#sinister mouse

[jjstarz]

what’s good danger mouse nation

[loudlyhappycupcake]

Danger mouse sketch doodles @shironezuninja @bloodmoon24 @bossbabyfan2 @princess-paige-place-of-fun @princesshillaryellaworld25 @princessfandom812 @untitled14360 @twiliartsdreams2017 @pastelmermaidgirl @jazzyrazzy157 @billyjoelmutt @gametoon @gamebruh12 @saltysoulballoon @leo-x-u-raptor-fan @moonlighteclipse17 @punk-63 @aromantyczno-liryczna @jedimemories @pinkdiamondstar

@freyzw0rld

[ohmaerieme]

even more old danger mouse art i never posted. its all gay people.. sorry

[im-so-done-with-myself]

(grips my knees normally) Sinisterfold. Sinister mmouse and penfold pleaseePLEASE. if u want . im just so normal about them u understand

SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG but I'm glad you reminded me these losers exist! I kinda struggled with making SM design look cute but I think I did a decent enough job. Anyways they give me toxic yaoi vibes...

[sinistermouse]

decided to clean up one of the frames

[callofdooty]

Love that the instrumentals I associate most with Mouse's presence are just spooky/mysterious as fuck

[cardentist]

I think sometimes we allow people to act this way specifically Because "this is a funny joke." because the idea is that the target (in this case men) is perceived as fair game specifically for not being Able to be hurt.

it's funny to objectify men because men are the ones who do the objectification of course. let them get a taste of their own medicine, it's not like it can hurt them.

but it Can, because the problem is the behavior, not the target. and normalizing and giving a pass to that behavior unchecked allows for people to be toxic and harmful in plain sight.

and while I think it's worth pointing out that allowing this behavior to be pointed at Anyone is bad, it Is the marginalized who are hurt most by it. because there Are men who are marginalized, and marginalized people who are wrongfully considered to be (or treated as) men. and They are the most affected by being dehumanized or othered.

a person doesn't have to Be marginalized to be hurt by another human being, but not recognizing that seemingly privileged groups Do have marginalized people within them (people whose gender can even be a factor in their marginalization) is part of what helps to normalize the behavior. by pretending that there are no vulnerable people within the group you can feel good about "punching up" and ignore the ramifications of what you're saying.

I Also think people get away with a lot of open (if casual) bigotry pointed specifically at marginalized people by Being funny. to the point people will share said bigotry without even realizing it

here's the thing. I don't think that men and women can't be friends. I do think, however, that some men can't be friends with women. bc they are misogynists and don't see women as people. so if you as a man say men and women can't be friends I think you're telling on yourself

[konigsblog]

OCTOBER 16TH — STEPDAD!KÖNIG. You're even better than your mother; tighter, quieter, and younger, with a pliable mind easy to morph to fit his sickening beliefs.

2024 KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. (DAY 16)

(TW: STEPCEST, DUB-CON)

Your stepfather has always been overprotective of you, you could say.

Your mother brushes off his extreme and controlling protectiveness and perverted touchiness as him being eager to bond with his beloved stepdaughter, ignorant to his disturbing and self-serving behaviour. She's too devoted to your stepfather to truly care for your concerns, blinded by love and adoration for her new husband. What do you mean your stepfather talks about you while drunk? Sure, you're not hearing things, Schatz?

When your mother isn't home, König's grubby hands find themselves exploring your younger figure. He favours you over her, if he's being honest. Your cunt latches onto his growing and meaty cock with greed and hunger, too inebriated to fully comprehend the severity of the immoral situation. You lay there, bleary and glassy eyes rolled to the back of your head and your bottom lip quivering and trembling through the miserable and splitting stretch of his large boner stuffed inside of you, a lone tear wandering down your stinging cheeks at the new experience.

You're much tighter, quieter, and more docile and flexible, too afraid to disobey through drunkenness and uneasiness. Easy to coerce and manipulate.

Your brain is like mush to König; so pliable, easy to morph. He trains your brain to accept and follow his sinister beliefs, conditioned to accept his distorted and ill form of love. He claims he's just looking out for you, that you should trust him to be your first, to ignore the nagging and mortified voice in your head pleading with you to intervene.

It's just König's form of showing affection, isn't it? Come on, Little Mouse, you trust König, right?

[xcarveoutmyheart]

What's your favorite movie? -🧁Anon

Difficult question! I have quite a few across a lot of genres, mainly animated films, horror, romance, among others, but I think I’ll focus on specifically Disney movies to at least keep this concise and sort of together hehe. I love a LOT of Disney movies, especially the classics, so this is gonna be a bit of a difficult question to answer.

The Hunchback of Notredame, The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Hercules, Sleeping Beauty, Tangled, and The Lion King take the cake for most rewatched on my end. I just love them so much??? I relate with a lot of Disney protagonists, but especially the protagonists in at the very least MOST of these. Especially Quasi, Ariel, Belle, Rapunzel, and Herc! We have… similar experiences? Motives? Difficult to really explain in detail hehe. Aurora is also someone I identify with but for different reasons in comparison to the previous four (mainly sleeping habits honestly, but to the extreme.)

The Lion King was my first favorite though, and is one I hold close to my heart, so I think I can say that one is my favorite movie?

They also have like, the best villains by the way. Another thing I’m honestly so in love with when it comes to these movies. Scar is my favorite in this regard, if you’re curious. Also??? The music??? Hello??? Bangers, all of the songs are bangers.

Special mentions: Cinderella (but specifically Cinderella III, but the other two are okay also), Alice in Wonderland, The Jungle Book, Aladdin, and 101 Dalmatians.

Some non-Disney movies in the tag ig~ What movies do you like? :)

[princesssarisa]

Disney's unconventional "Cinderella" (1950) (long)

Having watched most of the many adaptations of Cinderella, I've come to realize what a unique adaptation Disney's 1950 animated classic really is. Unlike Snow White, which only had a few stage and screen adaptations before Disney produced its groundbreaking film, Cinderella had already been adapted many times before Disney's turn came, and Disney's version makes a surprising number of departures from the standard Cinderella "formula." It was definitely a fresh, creative Cinderella when it made its debut, and it arguably still is. Yet because it's become so familiar in pop culture, and today so often serves as our childhood introduction to the tale, it's easy to overlook its inventive storytelling choices. The 2015 live action remake uses several classic Cinderella adaptation tropes that the original 1950 film actually subverts!

Here's a list of the often-overlooked ways in which Disney's Cinderella stands out from earlier adaptations, and from many later ones too.

Cinderella herself. Disney's Cinderella isn't a traditional Cinderella in personality. The "traditional" portrayal of Cinderella, seen in virtually every adaptation before Disney's and several afterwards too, is the portrayal I call "The Waif": a very young, fragile, melancholy girl, dressed in pathetic rags and smudged with ashes, who makes the audience want to rescue her and who wins the Prince's heart with her wide-eyed innocence and artless charm. But whether chiefly to set her apart from earlier screen Cinderellas or from Disney's earlier delicate ingenue Snow White, Disney's Cinderella is none of those things. She comes across as older, or at least more sophisticated. Nor is she waif-like, but instead combines down-to-earth warmth with ladylike dignity, even at her lowliest. She doesn't sit in the ashes ("Cinderella" is her real name in this version), and her servants' dress is humble yet clean and only slightly tattered. She's gentle and kind, yes, but also intelligent, practical, playful, sometimes sarcastic, philosophical, optimistic, genuinely cheerful when she's with her animal friends, and yet angrier and stronger-willed than virtually all earlier Cinderellas. She doesn't beg to go to the ball, but asserts her right to go, and then sets to work fixing up an old dress of her mother's for herself. Only her stepfamily's sabotage, first by keeping her too busy to finish the dress, and then by destroying it after the mice and birds finish it for her, prevents her from taking herself to the ball without a Fairy Godmother. To this day, she stands out as a complex, unique Cinderella, which pop culture too often forgets.

Lady Tremaine. Some critics today complain that Disney makes Cinderella's stepmother a total monster instead of giving her "nuance" and call her portrayal "sexist." But can't we agree that her sheer cruelty enhances the film's dramatic power? And compared to earlier portrayals of Cinderella's Stepmother, it definitely makes her stand out. In most pre-Disney Cinderellas and many after, the Stepmother is a pompous, vain comic antagonist. Once again, Disney was innovative by portraying Lady Tremaine as a dignified, manipulative, and truly sinister villain, who takes quietly sadistic pleasure in abusing Cinderella and will stop at nothing to prevent her from going to the ball or marrying the Prince. As far as I know, she's also the first Stepmother to realize before the slipper-fitting that Cinderella was the lady at the ball and to take action to prevent her from being found. That's a commonplace plot device in more recent adaptations, but in 1950 it was a creative twist!

The mice and other animals. Viewers debate whether Cinderella's mouse friends, Jaq, Gus, et al, and their misadventures evading Lucifer the Cat are a welcome addition or take away too much screen time from Cinderella herself. But there's no denying that the presence of the mice and birds is an inventive storytelling choice, which makes Disney's Cinderella stand out! And I can provide a long list of reasons why they're more than just "filler." (1) They add liveliness, humor, and appeal for younger children. (2) They gave the animators an outlet for the type of character animation they did best, rather than binding them to the harder work of animating realistic humans. (3) They give Cinderella someone to talk to besides her stepfamily. (4) They give her a way to demonstrate her kindness. (5) The struggles of the mice with Lucifer parallel Cinderella's abuse by her stepfamily, and Cinderella's undying optimism not only keeps her from despair, but inspires them too. (6) They arguably provide a further reason why Cinderella stays with her stepfamily – not only does she have nowhere to go, but an entire community of small sentient creatures relies on her for food and protection. (7) They reward Cinderella for her kindness. From the start, her friendship with the mice and birds makes her life easier to bear, both by easing her loneliness and because they do helpful deeds for her, like mending and cleaning her clothes. They fix up her mother's dress for her to wear to the ball – only the stepfamily's last-minute cruelty requires the Fairy Godmother to step in. And in the end, they're directly responsible for Cinderella's happy ending by freeing her from her locked room. They do all these things because Cinderella has protected them, fed them, made them clothes, and been their friend. Therefore, Cinderella's good fortune never feels "just handed" to her: her kindness directly earns it.

The Fairy Godmother. It's always varied between illustrators whether Cinderella's Fairy Godmother is portrayed as a grandmotherly old woman or as youthful, regal, and beautiful, but screen and stage adaptations before the Disney version virtually always took the "youthful, regal, beautiful" approach. That is, when they didn't change her into a wise, fatherly male magician-advisor, as in several opera adaptations! At any rate, seriousness and dignity were the norm for this character in most adaptations from the 19th century through the 1940s. Making her a sweet, comforting, grandmotherly figure, with a comically and adorably absent mind, was another of Disney's fresh choices.

Cinderella's entrance at the ball. We all know the classic image of Cinderella's entrance from other adaptations. Cinderella appears at the top of the grand staircase that leads down to the ballroom, and a hush falls over the assembly, as not only the Prince, but all the guests and members of the court are amazed by the unknown lady's beauty and magnificent dress. Even in versions without a staircase, Cinderella captivates the room the moment she enters. Adaptations both before and after Disney's, including Disney's own 2015 live action remake, play her entrance this way. But the 1950 animated classic subverts it! The grand staircase leads up to the ballroom, not down to it, and Cinderella's entrance isn't a triumph at first, but a vulnerable moment as she makes her way up the stairs alone, dwarfed by the splendor around her. Then, when she reaches the ballroom, no one notices her at first, because the other ladies are being presented to the Prince and all eyes are on him. But then the Prince notices her in the shadowy background as she quietly marvels at her surroundings, and leaves his post to approach her and invite her to dance. Only then does the rest of the assembly notice her, because she's the one the Prince has singled out. It's more understated and it feels more realistic than the traditional entrance, as well as more clearly symbolic of Cinderella's venturing above her station, then both literally and figuratively being led out of the shadows by the Prince's unexpected attention.

The slipper-fitting plan. Over the years, it's been fairly popular to mock the idea of using the glass slipper to find the Prince's love, as if there were no chance it would fit anyone else. Disney's version is creative by having the slipper-fitting search be the comical, hot-blooded King's idea, not the Prince's, and making it clear that it's not, nor is it meant to be, a foolproof plan to find Cinderella. The Duke points out that the slipper could fit any number of girls, but the King doesn't care if they find the right girl or not: he just wants to hold his son to his pledge to marry "the girl who fits this slipper" and force him to marry the first one who fits it. This also means that Disney doesn't do what most adaptations do and have the Prince conduct the search himself, but follows the original Perrault tale by having a gentleman, in this case the Grand Duke, do it instead. This prevents audiences from mocking the Prince for relying on the slipper instead of knowing his beloved's face.

Cinderella breaking free and asking to try on the slipper. Even though in Perrault's original tale, Cinderella asks to try on the slipper, she almost never does in adaptations. In most versions other than Disney's, including Disney's own 2015 remake, Cinderella's presence in the house (and/or the fact that she has the other slipper) is either discovered by accident or revealed by Cinderella's allies, not by Cinderella's own initiative. In some versions, she even tries to hide from the Prince and/or the search party, either out of fear of her stepfamily or because she feels unworthy of the Prince in her rags. But not Disney's animated Cinderella! First of all, she has an assertive emotional breakthrough when she calls on her dog Bruno to chase Lucifer away and free Gus to slip her the key to her locked room. Earlier on, she urges Bruno to try to get along with Lucifer, lest the stepfamily not allow him to sleep in the house – it's clear that Bruno represents her own rebellious side, and in that scene she's really talking about herself, revealing that she tolerates her stepfamily's abuse so she won't lose her own "nice warm bed" and be homeless. But in the climactic scene, when she finally sees a way out, she gives up playing nice and seizes her chance. First she unleashes Bruno on Lucifer, and then she runs downstairs and directly asks to try on the slipper, not caring how her stepfamily will react, or what the Grand Duke will think of her shabby dress, or whether the audience will accuse her of gold-digging or not. This isn't a common breakthrough in other Cinderella adaptations, but it fits perfectly (like a glass slipper, you might say) with the Disney Cinderella's stronger-willed and more self-assured characterization.

"I have the other slipper." We can probably all safely assume that when audiences first saw Disney's Cinderella in 1950, they all expected Cinderella to try on the glass slipper she lost, with her identity revealed by its perfect fit. They never would have expected Lady Tremaine to trip the footman and break the glass slipper... only for Cinderella to calmly reveal that she has the other one. It's yet another clever and unexpected twist, not seen in any other version. Not even Disney's own 2015 remake.

Disney's Cinderella deserves far more credit than it gets for being unique among the myriad versions of the tale, especially compared to the versions that came before it.

[wolfgang1097]

There's also El Nieto Siniestro, known as the Sinister Grandson, but he is more commonly known as the Sinister Child, I believe. Unless I'm mistaken, y'all have heard of him too, right?

Here's another:

Here he is with El Hombre Siniestro and La Mujer Siniestra:

Not gonna lie, that group photo of the three of them is so frick'n adorable. For some reason, I personally wonder if they are directly related to each other in any way despite that El Nieto Siniestro has been shown with a different family and/or caretakers. I will admit, to me El Nieto Siniestro is basically Stewie Griffin before Stewie Griffin, kind of.

I do not claim ownership of any content. The El Nieto Siniestro comics, as well as the titular character himself plus El Hombre Siniestro and La Mujer Siniestra, belong to the great late Antonio Prohias.

So...

Everyone knows that Antonio Prohias has other characters. And one of them is "La Mujer Siniestra" (The Sinister Woman)

so not long ago I found one sketch with her

I don't know if this was drawn before or after it was published, but she looks gorgeous.

[youryanderedaddy]

Tw: female reader, hinted captivity, attempted murder, hinted non - con, condescension

"Go on, do it."

He looks at you through half - closed eyes, an almost playful, yet condescendingly tiny crooked smile biting at his lips, threatening to spill into a self assured grin. Your hand shakes along with the bread knife - you almost drop it entirely, but his hand grabs your wrist and forcefully steadies your movements. A hot bubbling humiliation burns your swollen throat, but you can't bring yourself to flinch away.

"I mean, it's pretty dull - are you going to kill me or make me a fucking sandwich, doll?" He barks out a cold laugh, an ugly ringing sound that only serves to make you even more disoriented. The man takes advantage of your distress, roughly gripping your hips in, and you realize with dread the position you're in. Your thighs are spread across his lower body in a pose that is way too intimate for murder, and with each passing moment you can feel his length harden underneath you. The knife feels slippier and slipplier.

"Here, I'll make it easier for you, darling." He whispers with voice too sweet for those words. Before you can do anything to stop him he takes your hand and positions the sharp end of the knife over his left breast. "Feel my heart. It beats just for you." He taunts, tone silky and seductive, assured, completely in control. "Now stab it." His delicate features twist into a sinister grimace.

You take a deep breathe. He's playing with you. He's playing with you just like a cat would with a mouse, yet... you can't just let this opportunity pass. This might be your last chance at escape - so you feel the softness of his skin, the curve of his collarbone that peeks just slightly under his blue shirt. The flesh is warm and pumping blood at speed that feels so awfully alive. The body laying under you is painfully human - even if it belongs to the one you detest with everything you have. You hold his life in your palm right now - you can easily reach and squeeze his thin neck or dig the blade into his chest as many time as your soul may desire. You can press your hand against his mouth or thrust your fingers deep inside his throat until he chokes on his own spit. You can do it. You'd be a fool not to. It's you or him. Either you walk out alive or he drags you down to his own personal hell. You know it. He knows it. And yet your body just won't move. It's useless to struggle - as long as he keeps those deep black eyes on you, you turn to stone.

"Aww, getting cold feet now, are we? You must really love me after all." The man cooes at you playfully, gripping both your wrists in one go. You drop the knife, breaking into a cold sweat. "This was quite adorable, you know?" He pinches your cheek, softly patting it. All colour drains from your face - you failed, again. "Got me all hot and bothered here with your little rebellious stunt, didn'tcha?" He forces you to feel his crotch, and before you know it you're flipped on your back.

"Guess it's my turn now, pretty girl. Brace yourself."

[loudlyhappycupcake]

My dad brought me a new headphones 🎧 @shironezuninja @bitter-yet-civilized @burningmusicfunnygiant @homuncvlus @collector-noceda-clawthorne @cartoonfan21 @wolfie245 @sakulovejulius12 @lillywhynot8098 @lilnaru1 @aamericanotaku @bossbabyfan2 @evander2511 @miniaturejudgeturkeytree @enchantedchocolatebars @entinullbutno @bloodmoon24 @moonlighteclipse17 @jj-the-hamster @andykasane @yomis1527540 @fireopal-tash @walt-diego-rodriguez @daydream358 @ladybugsonfire

[serpentandlily]

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Untouchable - Azriel x Reader

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Wicked Games - Batboys x Reader

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥Part III

➻❥ Halloween Special

Summary: Desperate to pay off a debt, you decide to break into the penthouse of one of Prythian’s richest males, one rumored to make his money in a less than legal way. But after witnessing something you weren’t supposed to, you find yourself caught in a wicked game of cat and mouse with three of the most dangerous males in Prythian. (Modern AU!)

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Archeron!Reader

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓞𝓷𝓮-𝓢𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓼 & 𝓡𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼

fluff ☀︎ angst ☾ smut ♡

Request guidelines

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓐𝔃𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓵

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Scared to be Happier - Azriel x Reader ☾ ♡

No Going Back - Azriel x Reader (Part I) ☾

↠ Now That We Don’t Talk (Part II) ☾

Mystique - Azriel x Reader ☀︎

Arcane - Azriel x Reader ☀︎

The Crow's Poet - Azriel x Reader ☀︎

The Shadowsinger's Secret - Azriel x Reader ��☀︎

Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader (Part I) ☾

↠ We Should Stick Together (Part II) ☾

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓡𝓱𝔂𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓭

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Falling Apart for You - Rhysand x Reader ☾ ☀︎

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓔𝓻𝓲𝓼

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Reader ☾ ☀︎

Last Solstice - Eris x Reader ☾ ☀︎

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓬

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Butterfly Fly Away - Batboys x Platonic!Reader ☾ ☀︎

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back Pt. 2

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

Whoo! The darling @jackofallrabbits has all my thanks for the continuation of the DCA Hocus Pocus AU! The boys want every piece of the historian reader, and they have no time to lose! The sun is rising, and they must prepare the ceremony, and you realize that your dear friend Michael has arrived at the witches' home. Very poor timing, on his part. Enjoy the flirts and curses!

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, heavy touching, injury, disturbing imagery, and fear.

———

The witch carries you across the room, clasping you tightly within a cage of his claws. You’re frozen in his embrace. His towering height and lithe, long limbs make you feel incredibly small, like a mouse before a hungry cat. His extra set of arms disappears into the shadow of his dark cape. How did he summon them so effortlessly? You tilt your head back to gaze up at Eclipse’s face, the eldest brother of the hanged brothers. They should still be dead—they were for almost four hundred years.

His face is inhuman. The markings and color stain his visage in a midnight-red crescent, and a blackened shadow swallows it. His eyes, bright yellow and predatory, glance down at you. A grin splits his lower face with wicked teeth. He runs his tongue over his bone-white fangs.

Your stomach flip-flips within you.

Candlelight flickers ominous over the colonial home as the cauldron continues to bubble in the fireplace. The other two, Sun and Moon, watch you. Their wide eyes gleam in the firelight: one of pale pools of feverish desire and the other glint in scarlet, roiling with appetite.

You cling tighter to Eclipse’s shoulder. A childish desire to bury your face in the crook of his shoulder almost takes hold of you.

“Where are you taking me?” you whisper into Eclipse’s cape.

“To the parlor,” his voice is soft as dusk, and the vibrations through his chest sink into you with a gentle rumble. “The main hall is hardly a place to hold a ceremony.”

Your eyes widen. He strides past the tables with the many candles aflame in a thick, waxy cluster. His claws flex against your shoulder and around your thigh.

“What ceremony?” your voice climbs into a squeaky pitch.

A chuckle echoes behind Eclipse’s shoulder. You turn your head to catch Sun and Moon following behind, and the latter’s lips curl into a sinister smile as his shoulders shake with amusement—as if he finds you utterly adorable.

“Little mouse, there’s nothing to fear,” Moon soothes, almost in a sing-song voice.

“It will be wonderful,” Sun clasps his hands together. Eagerness streaks through his face like falling stars at sunrise. “You’ll see, sunshine.”

A thickness coats your throat. When Eclipse asked you to stay, did you agree to something far more sinister? Do they intend to use your soul or your life to grant them greater power or something else just as nefarious? 

“Wait.” You tremble. “Wait.”

“Little comet, we still need you,” Eclipse says firmly but gently. His yellow eyes narrow in the slightest, glancing at the black ribbons on his wrists. “The bells will ring for us at dawn unless we perform the ceremony. You must be part of it. You must speak the vows.”

Your heart scampers within your rib cage.

“Wait,” you say again, panic slithering up your spine. He continues onward.

Eclipse easily unlatches an almost hidden door in the back of the main hall while balancing you in his arms. Cobwebs tear apart as it swings open and he enters a smaller but no less intricate room. A window overlooks part of the road cutting through the thick forest. A few shelves are covered in dusty bottles of glass and woven baskets. Ancient and dried fronds, stems, thorns, and petals are stored on wooden tables.

In the corner of your vision, the white rabbit darts inside the room. The one that spoke with a woman’s voice. She bounds across the space, knocking into a small stand that topples over a jar of powder. Sun curses, his voice growling demonically. The claws holding you tense as Eclipse glowers. You shiver under sharp talons pricking into your sweater.

Moon leaps forward and cuts the rabbit off in her destructive path. His eyes, glinting with bloodlust, follow her like a hound eager to tear apart a fox. He steps across the room, into her path, and forces her to correct her race. Her hind legs kick out. Her fluffy body arches smoothly through the air but she lands too close to the door and clips her front foreleg. She topples over, sliding across the hard floor and back into the main room. 

With a flick of his wrist and a dark murmur, Moon casts the door shut without laying a finger upon it. It slams close, rattling the walls and causing you to jump in Eclipse’s arms. 

“It’s alright, little comet,” Eclipse purrs. 

“We now have privacy,” Moon declares with a rasp. He eyes the door with a branding glare as if daring the rabbit to intervene again. 

A faint scratching is heard at the bottom of the door.  You clutch your hands into small balls of anxiety.

“I’ll rid us of the little beast after the ceremony,” Sun promises as he steps closer, laying a hand upon your arm. “As for you, my little ray of sunshine, we must get you ready.”

“With haste,” Eclipse speaks, and his brothers listen. You snap your head from one witch to the other. Gently, Eclipse sets you back on your feet. You sway, clutching your chest and twisting your fingers into the knitwork of your sweater.

“This is all happening fast,” you say, breathless. The room spins slightly in your exhilarated state. You start to inch away, back to the door with the soft sound of claws gouging into it.

“We apologize, mouse,” Moon whispers as he steps to a black wood cabinet and pries open one low door. “But necessity calls for it.”

“When we have the luxury of time,” Eclipse speaks while approaching a small table where a stack of books resides. His black claws draw slowly down the spines, “We will have a proper ceremony, with all the decorations you desire and a feast that could gorge a village.”

A shudder falls down your back. The chill sinking into your bones is numbing, and fear creeps deeper into your mind, plucking at every wild and frantic thought. Are they going to cook you up and eat you? Are they going to cast a spell to turn you into a toad? This wasn’t part of the fabled story of their return, was it?

You’re not certain you want to find out any more. Are your questions worth your life? They’re being so cryptid, so rushed.

You shuffle further back, away from the focused witches and their enchantments. What are they capable of? If only you could make them stop for a moment and answer you.

“Sunshine, darling, where are you going?” Hands slip down your arms and over your wrists.

A gasp falls from your mouth, quiet and quick. The hands, pale and yellow, with scarlet ribbons tying golden bells to his wrists, lift your hands into the air. You’re not so different from a little ballerina figurine being posed, forced to dance endlessly in a music box.

“I’m not sure I want to stay,” you breathe, frightened. The rate of your heart picks up in tempo, banging like a drum against your sternum.

He leans over your shoulder. His wicked smile fills the corner of your vision. Eyes, pale and gray like mist, hold you captive.

“There’s so much we can show you,” he says. He trails the tips of his claws down your sleeves, and the layer of separation causes your eyelids to flutter. “There’s so much we can do for you. What would you like, my poppet?”

You’re locked in his spell. Did he cast magic or is it simply his touch? Your arms stay in the air as his hands fall down your sides, rubbing slowly over your ribcage before settling on your waist.

“I want to know.” You stare ahead at Eclipse and Moon as they set a blackwood altar in the center of the room, before the window. “I want to know everything about you and your lives.”

Sun’s teeth graze the curve of your shoulder. His breath is warm against the side of your neck, and the air rattles out of your throat.

“You will have it all,” he answers, and whisks you off your feet in a spin. The room blurs before he stops you, hands holding your own as you’re locked in a dance with the witch. His cape shifts over his shoulder, revealing the deep opening of his flowy, white shirt. Your cheeks burn. Flustered, you jerk your head up, tearing your eyes away, and almost become ablaze as you find his cheeky smile.

“I do mean all,” he winks, coquettish and wicked.

You balk.

He takes your hand and presses it to his chest, right above where his heart would be. His skin is smooth and pale, split into two colors of yellow and off-white down the middle of his torso. You feel a strange hum instead. Not a beat, but a constant buzz of energy. Magic, perhaps.

His footwork guides you around the room in a sweeping circle. As he twirls you, one hand on your waist and the other holding your arm above your head, you catch a glimpse of old and age-stained pages fluttering open. Eclipse sets the book on the altar. He bows over it, his eyes roaming over the archaic writings.

Beside him, Moon holds a silvery veil in his arms. He murmurs something to his elder brother, who dips his head in agreement.

You almost stumble as another shock of fright seizes you.

“What is that?” you ask as Sun reclaims you, pulling you flush against his torso—your middle bubbles at the contact. 

He simpers with a low hum.

His mouth opens but before he can speak, bright headlights cut into the room from the window. The diamond-patterned panes slice the room into shapes of light and shadow, and you inhale sharply. 

A car. Who’s here? The owner of the property? 

“What is that?” Moon hisses, his hood falling deeper over his face as he slinks into an alcove of shadows.

“It’s like the sun.” Eclipse lifts his arm to shield his eyes, peering around the blinding high beams. 

“No.” Sun’s brow narrows. His arms lower around you, tightening around your waist until you gasp. “It’s unnatural.”

You peek over Sun’s shoulder, pushing up on your tiptoes to see a familiar build of the vehicle just behind the lights. Michael’s car.

What is he doing here? Did he suspect you would come here alone, against his advice?

What will the witches do when they realize your friend is here?

Your gut clenches. You have to warn him. He has to stay away before they try to throw him into their cauldron or turn him into a fox.

A shiver falls down your back and down to your toes. You turn your head to find Eclipse’s wide eyes cutting into you, and you freeze. He couldn’t know it’s your friend, could he?

“We have an unwelcome visitor,” Eclipse declares. The corners of his mouth tug downwards and he promptly slaps the book close with a heavy, dusty thud. “Brothers, what shall we do with him?”

“Let’s cast him into a carrot and feed him to the rabbit,” Moon suggests.

“No, no, I was of the mind that we could make a new rug out of his skin,” Sun muses, his fingers stroking the small of your back, much to your terror. 

Michael’s voice rips through the house. Muffled by the door, his shouts turn quick, frantic. You clamp your mouth shut. A horror so cold slips into your veins, and you tremble. He can’t be here. 

Eclipse lifts his hand, a hum filling his throat as he stares down the door. You cry out a soft, “Please, don’t!”

His wide yellow eyes turn back to you, surprised. The next moment, the jarring thud hits the wood of the door and cracks it by the wrought-iron handle. Splinters fly outwards. 

Michael shouts your name, then commands, “Don’t make any vows!”

Your mind turns blank. What?

A snarl rips from Moon’s mouth. You flinch, the sound right at your shoulder as you realize the hooded brother has joined you and Sun. His clawed hand falls to your shoulder, talons almost digging into your collarbone.

“Who is that?” Moon’s scarlet eyes flash in demand. “How does he know?”

Another kick flies into the door. The entire house shudders as the wood buckles and a boot chops through it. Immediately, you watch a familiar hand snake its way inside and throw open the mangled frame of the door. In the threshold stands your friend.

“Michael!” You stare, stunned. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes widened upon the scene. His dark jacket catches splinters of wood and his unruly hair is extra ruffled from the effort of breaking the door down. Immediately, a white rabbit darts inside. Michael lands on the witches and their snarling, teeth-bared expressions before finding you. His fists clench at his sides.

“Get away!” He dips a hand into his jacket pocket and hurls a handful of small, dried lavender petals. 

As if struck with a blade or bullet, the witches all recoil as the flowers rain down. Sun’s and Moon’s hands disappear from you. Backing away, Eclipse almost stumbles into the altar before he rights himself. A hiss, furious and demonic, roll off his tongue. You flinch. Lavender flowers litter the floor.

The white rabbit rushes for you, stopping only to stand on her hind legs and press a foot to your shin. Her green eyes shine with desperation. “Stop standing there and run!”

There’s no thought but of terror. You reach down and scoop up the rabbit just as Michael steps towards you. He grabs your arm and half dragging, half guiding you through the witch’s house, the three of you rush for the exit.

“Little comet!” Eclipse cries. His voice tugs on your heart, but you twist and refuse to be pulled back into his orbit.

A growl follows from Moon, and a mumbling of something wicked and furious slips from Sun’s mouth, but you can’t look back. Through the candlelit main room and out the door, Michael races. His grip almost crushes your elbow.

“I told you not to come here! I told you not to come here without me!” Michael boils. You shrink slightly as he reaches for the passenger side door, uncaring for the rabbit you clutch against your sweater.

“I didn’t—I didn’t know,” you say quietly, defenselessly. 

The rest of your rebuttal doesn’t leave your mouth before a familiar and haunting voice shouts, amplified like a poltergeist screeching into your ear. Michael immediately forces you to duck, pushing your shoulder down until you’re crouched behind the car, him protecting you with his own body. Gravel shifts underneath your shoes.

Michael’s car begins to groan. You lift your head tentatively, then gape. The frame of the vehicle begins to twist and rust, curling at the edges and darkening with burnt-orange marks. You hear a strange, hissing sound, then realize the tire you’re hunched beside is leaking air. As the car withers, glass cracks then pops. You yelp under a shower of shards but Michael’s jacket shields you from the sharp edges. The rabbit in your arms struggles for a moment.

“We have to keep moving! Go to the cemetery,” she demands.

“Right,” Michael mutters. His eyes land on the rabbit you shield in your arms, and his expression only shifts in the slightest at the human voice emerging from the rabbit’s mouth.

Likewise, she stares back at Michael. You pet her fluffy white fur as your fingers tremble. Her hide is soft and her body is warm and comforting.

“You’re an Afton, aren’t you?” she says softly, almost as if she were seeing an old friend.

Your brow furrows. How could she possibly know his last name? Is she a witch too?

“I am.” Michael stares down at her, his grip shifting as he looks forlorn to his car and then back to the house. His mouth twists in a grimace. “I read about you in my ancestor’s journal. You’re Vanessa. I thought… I hoped it wasn’t true.”

“Vanessa?” you echo in your whiplash confusion.

The rabbit’s white ear flops back slightly before she presses a foot to your chest.

“We can’t linger.” Her green eyes flash to you, scathing as she remarks. “The witches want the virgin for their ceremony. We can’t let them complete it.”

Michael’s grip tightens upon you, and you make a sound of discomfort. His nostrils flare, his breath running harsh and heated. You’ve never seen Michael so upset, so close to violence.

“What is going on?” you gasp, clutching Vanessa tighter to your pounding heart.

“I’ll explain later.” Michael moves away, shaking glass from his jacket and jumping to his feet. He surveys the house. You can hear footsteps, curses, and something sweeping the floor. “Follow me. Run as fast as you can.”

“Michael—” you start but he’s already pulling you back to your feet. Vanessa leaps from your arms. She bounds across the road and into the tree line. Michael follows the white rabbit, and you try to catch your breath as the darkness becomes absolute as you try to keep pace.

You have to trust him. He and the talking rabbit. You follow, your feet pounding over pavement and then dirt and leaves. Branches scratch at your sleeves; you’ve long forsaken your poor sweater to being snagged and ruined.

Laughter cracks overhead like black lightning. The echo isn’t too far away, and you shudder at the thought of what spells will allow them to catch you. Witchy howls of both amusement and anger snake through the half-dead canopy of trees. The midnight air hangs heavy. Michael bursts through the treeline to an open field of dead grass with you hot on his heels before you spy what he’s running you toward.

An old wrought fence spans the length of a reclusive cemetery. It’s ancient, by the shape and crumbling aspect of a few of the headstones you spy on within the space. Your mind races to date the burial ground but Michael urges you forward just as a breeze cuts overhead.

You turn your eyes skywards just as Michael finds the corner of the overgrown and neglected corner of the graveyard property. A streak of movement interrupts the constellations of the night sky, and you almost stumble in dawning horror.

Flying just above the near leafless and dark trees are the witches. Brooms, elegantly carved and sleek, carry them effortlessly in the air. Their capes and cloaks billow like black manes to dark beasts behind them, and claws clutch tightly at their flying vessels. Teeth sharp, eyes glinting, their gazes meet yours. Eclipse. Sun. Moon.

Under their harrowing eyes, you feel no more than a mouse running from a cat’s pounce.

“Keep going,” Vanessa urges. Her white form dashes onwards, but she comes to a sharp halt and turns back, ears pricked.

Two stone pillars, cracked and faded from years of standing as sentinels mark the entrance to the burial ground. Michael ushers you into the cemetery. For one desperate moment, you wish you could study the history of this place, find out its name, who lies here, but you are torn from your brief musings.

“I know you.” Eclipse’s voice carries over the field. His black cap settles onto his shoulders as he sinks in the air to hover just above the threshold of the graveyard. “Your kind are all the same, witch hunter.”

Michael stands between you and the witch. His gaze is hard, unyielding. You clutch at his jacket, fearing the lack of barriers.

“What did he call you?” you breathe out. “Michael.”

He huffs at Eclipse as Sun and Moon settle on his flanks. Moon turns his hungry eyes upon you, glinting like blood. Sun strums the staff of his broom. His claws catch on starlight.

Eclipse tilts his head and bares his fangs in a taunting smile. “Do you really think you can keep our lovely little virgin from us?”

You shiver violently. What do they want?

“I’ll watch all three of you return to dust and ashes,” he promises. Vanessa slips against your ankle, pressing close as if she were a guard dog instead of a rabbit.

All three of the witches burst into laughter, wicked and harsh before they rise and fly over the gate, deeper into the cemetery.

Michael pushes you further down an unmarked and overgrown path. “It’s alright. They can’t set foot here. I’ll take care of them.”

“Wait,” you gasp. You stumble as Michael urges you onward. “Wait, don’t hurt them!”

“They’re witches,” he snarls so viciously, it makes you jump. He stops, finding a row of headstones with tall and web-cracked faces. “You have no idea how dangerous they truly are. I will explain everything once they’re gone. Stay here. Vanessa?”

The rabbit hops up beside you. Michael again pushes you down by the shoulders until you curl up in the shadow of a colonial headstone. He stands over you, glancing this way and that to the sky. A few large and overgrown trees cut into the skyline through the burial grounds.

Vanessa noses her way onto your lap. You open your arms and she hops on, her small feet pressing on your jeans. 

“Listen to him,” she speaks sternly. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“But—how? Michael? Where are you going?” you call, your voice cracking, but he’s already rushing away from the grave you’re hunkered near. He rushes into a flat, open plot of land filled with weeds and dead grass. Michael looks to the midnight sky.

You peer over the headstone. Vanessa hits your shoulder until you slink back down, but you catch a glimpse of Eclipse emerging from behind a black, dead tree and sailing through the air. He bows low upon his broom, eagerly stalking Michael. Your friend withdraws a cylinder from his jacket pocket. Popping it open, Michael quickly sprinkles something white around him—salt. 

Your heart climbs into your throat. You long to call out, to beg Eclipse to spare him, but Michael whips out what appears to be an old charm made of leather. Upon it are scratched archaic symbols you have never once glimpsed before in your historical studies. A few small bones dangle from where the leather is tied with cord.

Your eyes widen as Michael holds it high. Eclipse stops, leaning back and tilting the broom away until he comes to hover. Then, he laughs. Michael remains unmoved, though his brow furrows in the slightest.

A disgusted sound leaves Vanessa’s voice.

With a point of Eclipse’s finger, the charm ignites into flames. Michael yelps, dropping it to the ground and clutching at his hand, no doubt burned by the spontaneous combustion.

“Little mouse, where are you hiding?” A low voice calls, rasping out like a lover searching through the dark. Moon.

You stiffen. Vanessa’s ears pin flat against her skull. You press your back against the headstone, hiding yourself in its shadow. A soft breeze touches your hair, tugging strands across your face.

“We can play so many games when it’s only us.” Moon’s broom appears just a row down, scanning the fallen leaves and grave markers. He perches low, his shoulders shifting under his cloak like a tiger ready to leap upon prey. “Come on out. Let me take you home.”

Your blood runs cold. The ghost of his hands is still upon you, and you wonder if it would be so terrible to return with them. They would leave Michael and Vanessa alone, wouldn’t they? 

Moon slips slowly through the air, his broom black as night and silent, and his head lifts. He inhales deeply. Under the brim of his hood, his eyelids flutter. 

Then his entire head snaps to where you hide. You squeak in fright.

“There you are.” His jaws split into a ravenous grin as he reaches out a hand, flying over a gravestone just to where you kneel on the ground.

“No!” Michael shouts. “Get back!”

You jerk your head to him and watch as he steps away from the salt he just spilled. 

“Michael, don’t!” Vanessa warns a moment too late.

Eclipse sneers. Extending his hand, he speaks. His voice becomes of tongues, lapping and overtaking, but mostly devilish. The air turns sharp and tangy, and the wind picks up, twisting leaves around Michael’s feet. His eyes widened at his mistake. 

A flash of horror cuts through you just as Eclipse hurls out a curse.

Michael drops to the ground and begins writhing. You can only catch glimpses of him between rocky headstones, his body twisting and his flesh turning dark and rancid. His body convulses. 

A scream tears out of your lungs. You jump to your feet, clutching a hand over your mouth as you witness Michael suffer. Eclipse’s eyes immediately snap at you. Close beside you, a hand brushes your sleeve, cool and blue. Moon. You can’t move.

“Oh, how I’ve yearned to curse your ancestor.” Eclipse leans low, lording over Michael’s writhing form with little more than a delighted glint in his gaze. “He forced my brothers and I upon the gallows. He let us hang slowly. We convulsed and gagged for air, and then we died.”

Eclipse leans closer, hanging over Michael in a taunt. “This is the least I can bestow upon you. Never fear, there is far more punishment to be delivered.”

You’re rooted to the spot. Ice water flows in your veins.

“Come here,” Moon murmurs close beside you. His hand begins to circle your wrist.

“Don’t let him take you!” Vanessa’s voice cuts through the hazy terror fogging your mind, and you jerk back to alertness. You shake off Moon’s hand. His sharp breath of frustration follows as you take off over the graveyard towards Michael.

“Stop it! Whatever you’re doing to him, stop!” you cry out, reaching one hand out. You’re not sure who—Eclipse or Michael. 

Eclipse straightens upon his broom. His expression brightens into a pleased, unholy smile.

“Little comet,” he purrs, opening his arms.

“Eclipse, please—gah!” Arms grab you from behind. You hear Vanessa’s voice calling out, furious and demanding, but your feet leave the ground and in a heartbeat, you’re airborne.

“Sunshine, there you are!” The cheerful voice falls over you. Sun continues, “The wretched rabbit is getting her fur all over you! I never did like her, not even as a vermin.”

Large hands maneuver over you, pulling you onto his lap and balancing you in his hold while the broom rides faster, racing over the cemetery and away from everyone else. You gasp. You immediately twist and cling tightly to his shoulders. His hands surround you. His palms rub slowly along your back.

“I’ve got you now,” he declares. His breath, warm and misty, tickles your cheek. “One would think a person would be lonely and bored watching our home for all of these years, but that was what she did when she was mortal at her master’s request. So really, isn’t our curse just a lovely gift for her?”

“Sun!” You tremble. The wind tears at your clothes. You watch the ground become a blur underneath you, and a sickness stirs. “Please, set me down.”

“Not yet, sunshine.” The air changes, and the broom gains speed, pressing you deeper against his chest. “I want you for only a moment. You can say ‘I do’ can’t you? I’ll do the rest.”

“What—wait, wait,” your fingernails dig into the fabric of his cape hanging over his shoulders. The flight is far too fast and you feel far too vulnerable, seated upon his legs as your only insurance you won’t fall to your death. 

“Although,” Sun’s fingertips slip under your chin and tilt your face up, “it’s not fair that Eclipse kissed you and I haven’t. We can steal one before the ceremony, can’t we?”

Your tongue becomes heavy in your mouth. You can say little, caught in the torrent of the breakneck speed of the broom as well as the Sun’s sultry eyes devouring you whole. He lowers his mouth to your neck. His other hand caresses your thigh, fingertips touching your flesh with reverent want. Heat waterfalls into your middle. He lowers himself to your shoulder and grazes his teeth against your neck.

You inhale, your breath rattling at the touch of a warm and wet tongue dragging over the tips of your collarbones in the hollow of your throat.

“One kiss,” he half pleads, half demands. His lips brush your jawline in their climb upwards. 

“Too fast,” you utter. The world spins and blackness swoops in on your vision.

“I can go slow,” he assures, but when he lifts his head, his smile drops from his lips. “Sunshine!”

The world tilts, and you think of very little as hands grasp at you, but the broom rocks and you slide out of Sun’s hold as a curse rips from his throat. A wretched call rattles your darkening visible, and then, you’re falling.

Your eyelids flutter, and you hardly have a second to scream before a second pair of arms catch you and pull you against a cool chest.

“You buffoon!” Moon snarls right beside your ear. “You dropped our virgin!”

A numbness clings to your limbs. You’re still reeling, slumped in his lap as he rides on his broom at a much safer speed.

“I would not have let death take away our chance at happiness and life and love,” Sun shoots back, not unlike a sibling retort in an argument. 

“Go help Eclipse deal with the vermin!” Moon demands in a low growl. Sun snarls something back, but his voice fades in the distance.

You feel the wind shift, slowing down until you’re left to hover in the air. Eyes closed against Moon’s chest, you breathe rapidly. Your shaking hands press tight to his white shirt.

“I will keep you safe,” he murmurs softly into your air. “Step here, little mouse. This mausoleum wasn’t blessed, and it lies outside of the cemetery's boundaries.”

“Okay,” you murmur listlessly. You lift your head, trying to stop the spinning from within. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn but you feel dead grass underneath your shoes as Moon holds you up on your feet. His broom lowers gently to the ground and falls still as if there were no magic to the black wood staff at all.

“Breathe.” He moves you slowly, carefully pressing your back to the solid brick of a small, gray mausoleum. “Apologies for my brother. He is eager to make you our bride.”

Perhaps it only houses a small family. What is their history? Your brain churns over senselessly while the oxygen returns to your head. 

Did he say bride?

His hands find your shoulders and pin you in place. Chest heaving, you gaze up at the witch now hovering over you. There is no escape. You smell midnight and something herbal and sharp upon him.

“The vows,” he says. His eyes hold you captive. “You can say the vows to marry us.”

“Marry?” You’re breathless, but you ask all the same, “Why am I marrying you?”

“To have us,” he says, low and husky. He presses closer, caging you with his body and holding you hostage against the cool stones at your back. “You will know everything soon. There is so little time—the witch hunter and the rabbit are trying to spoil everything. Little mouse, look at me.”

You try to avert your gaze, turning your cheek, but his command causes you to buckle. 

“I will begin the vows.” Moon presses in closely. His chest is flush with your own, and you fear he can sense the wild fluttering of your heartbeat. You are not cool and suave, and you are still falling, falling, falling. 

“Will you take me to be your husband?”

“Moon,” you whisper. “I… I… I…”

His teeth flash. Then, he leans in, pressing close to your ear. A soft flick of his tongue against your cheek draws out a breath from you, just before he begins nibbling on the soft flesh of your earlobe. You gasp. Your hands find him, clinging tightly as flutters begin in your middle.

He releases your ear from his teeth but his mouth remains pressed close to the shell of it.

“Will you take me, so I will obey, serve, love, honor, and keep you in sickness and in health?” 

Your knees sink deeper but he refuses to let you slip out of his grasp. His claw hooks the collar of your sweater and stretches it, exposing your shoulder to the starlight.

His mouth lowers there. The press of his lips is soft and cool like a stone smoothed by a river. Your stomach burns with a flame you cannot name. He slowly opens his jaws, first licking your sensitive flesh until goosebumps run down your arms, then ever so delicately pressing his teeth into your shoulder. The tease of fang marks. The promise of more. He does not break the skin, but you mewl under his controlled bite.

He releases you. His hand cups your cheek as he straightens. 

“And forsaking all others,” he rasps, “keep you only unto me and my brothers, so long as we both shall live?”

Your bottom lips tremble from emotion. Confusion spins you.

Can you say ‘I do?’ Should you?

Moon softly caresses your cheek with his thumb. His eyes are gentle like pools in the starlight.

“I swear to love and cherish you,” his voice softens.

Your fingers curl around his wrists. He lowers himself to you, and your eyes flutter as his lips brush against yours—

“Get away, witch!”

Your eyes flash open. Moon’s gaze narrows into slits as he turns his head, pressing harder against you and trapping you against the mausoleum until you squirm. 

“Michael?” you gasp, peering over Moon’s shoulder, only to choke on your breath.

Over the slight hill from the true cemetery, a creature shambles. Purple flesh clings to bones, arms extended. Shuffling over the gnarled, dead grass, you watch as flesh splits and hangs by threads across his cheeks, exposing his molars. His nose is little more than a nasal bridge and two dark holes. His hair is dark and greasy, and his eyes are sunken, barely left save for black orbs and a single pinprick of light in each, like a lone flame of candlelight. 

“What did Eclipse do to you?” You feel faint. “No, no, no, change him back! Moon, please!”

“No need,” Moon steps forward to face your zombified friend. You almost drop to the ground when Moon’s hands leave you. A cold fury radiates around the witch’s cloak.

Bounding over the top of the hill, Vanessa appears. Her white fur is now smeared with dirt and her breaths are sharp and quick. She hops over to you. 

“Get up! Michael’s lavenders won’t keep the other two back for long!” Vanessa pushes against your leg, her tiny bunny body doing little to bring strength back to your limbs.

“Michael,” you whisper, clutching your mouth where the witch almost kissed you. “Eclipse has to take away the curse. He has to.”

“He won’t.” Vanessa’s eyes are dark, and hard. “We have to go.”

Your chest is hollow and your head swims. You watch Moon approach Michael in swift, sure steps. Michael’s arms are stiff and crooked, but his rotten fingers curl into a fist. Moon strikes and gouges his claws into Michael’s throat. You watch in muted horror as Moon rips away purple flesh and sinew. A rancid smell spills into the air. You gag, then scream out Michael’s name. The pale, bony column of his throat is exposed.

“You’re interrupting my wedding,” Moon hisses slowly at Michael before lifting his other hand.

Unphased, Michael throws a punch at the witch, and it hits with a burst of lavender petals. A screech drawls out of Moon. He falls backward. You hear the faintest sounds of Moon’s wretched snarls as Michael then awkwardly runs. His leg drags at the shin as if it were broken. You realize it is. Moon howls, clawing at the petals and trying to remove them from his person.

The witch calls out your name. You look back. His red eyes are furious, then desperate as Michael cuts in between the two of you. He brings his good foot down hard on Moon’s broomstick, and it snaps.

Moon screeches and writhes on the dried grass.

“Go,” Michael croaks. You stare at his gaping open neck but he takes you by the arms and hauls you back up to your feet. The scent of death is thick. “Now!”

You stumble, tears filling your eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I’m so sorry. I’ll make them change you back.”

“Just run,” Michael huffs, half decayed and struggling. “We have to get to town. We have to lose them. They only have until sunrise.”

Sunrise.

And a ceremony they wish to perform. 

[sinistermouse]

okay this outfit was really cool, I had to draw it

reference under the read more