#clock and dagger

[spookywolfgardener]

Book rebinding practice! A great way to experiment with cover design ideas. Local library had a by donation book sale and I picked up this cozy clockmaker mystery series to rebind into hardcover versions. Was able to practice with layering different designs and quite happy with how it turned out! Getting more comfortable with vector art programs. The design elements themselves are pretty predictable but I never claimed to be creative!

[clownmfxx]

what is the dog doin

[moontheoretist]

So many cameos today! (Why human-like Apocalypse is so HOT?!) Also Tony at last looks like a metal bucket I remember him as xD

Silver Samurai (Kenuichio Harada) Captain America (Steve Rogers) Iron Man (Tony Stark) Daredevil (Matt Murdock) Dr Strange (Stephen Strange) Black Panther (T'Chaka) Dora Milaje Clock (Tyrone Johnson) Dagger (Tandy Bowen)

Winter Guard Team:

Darkstar (Laynia Petrovna)

Crimson Dynamo (Valentin Shatalov)

Omega Red (Arkady Rossovich)

Alpha Flight Team:

Aurora (Jeanne-Marie Beaubier)

Northstar (Jean-Paul Beaubier)

Puck (Eugene Judd)

Cipher (Alisa Tager) Psylocke (Elizabeth Braddock) Scarlet Witch (Wanda Maximoff) Quicksilver (Pietro Maximoff) Polaris (Lorna Dane) Peter Parker (Spiderman) Mary Jane Watson

On the photos:

Colossus (Piotr Rasputin)

Dust (Sooraya Qadir)

Archangel (Warren Worthington III)

Magik (Illyana Rasputin)

Iceman (Bobby Drake)

Havok (Alexander Summers)

Exodus (Bennet du Paris)

Shadowcat (Kitty Pryde)

Emma Frost

Mother Askani (Rachel Summers) Apocalypse (En Sabah Nur)

[thunderous-aesthetics]

An In Stars and Time Siffrin stimboard because the game has gripped me to the core and refuses to leave.

Sources:

🕒 🕒 🕒 / 🕒 🕒 🕒 / 🕒 🕒 🕒

[themidnightcircusshow]

I feel like you could do an absolutely amazing thriller that's just the lead up to Henry IV's death

[sneeb-canons]

Because I've seen a few Mind's weapon headcanons, I'll throw my own headcanon hat into the ring.

Mind doesn't have a weapon. He's the weakest of the three and has no physical defense. Instead, he uses his words as weapons, trying to manipulate anyone aggressive towards him into backing down. He destroys people with his epic Facts and Logic.

Unfortunately, those manipulation tactics just make Heart angrier most of the time. This is what lead to the Ruler Of Everything incident.

After reconciling with Heart, Mind tries to deescalate fights into simple discussions.

Headcanon #154

[council--board]

Ghostfire [OC] stimboard

phighting oc phighting oc

I need more art of this man. I forgot his fucking jacket collar when drawing this :(

x | x | x

x | x | x

x | x | x

[green-eyes-and-orange-ties]

I think Dagger is a Valkyrie

theory based entirely on the fact that Dagger Cam and Seb all have green eyes (at least according to the official art) - now there's many characters in NSP so could just be coincidence ... but ... maybe her small magic isn't so small...

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

List of Random Things For Your Dark Academia Settings | For Writers

The Library 📚

Towering mahogany bookshelves filled with ancient leather-bound tomes

Antique globes and faded maps mounted on the walls

Heavy velvet drapes blocking out the sunlight

Ornate brass reading lamps casting a warm glow

The musty smell of old books permeating the air

The Study 🪶

A large oak desk strewn with papers, quills, and ink bottles

Walls lined with pinned insect specimens and anatomical drawings

An antique typewriter, its keys clacking softly

Stacks of well-worn leather journals and notebooks

A cabinet of curiosities filled with skulls, fossils, and scientific oddities

The Classroom 🎓

Rows of old wooden desks, surfaces scratched with generations of graffiti

A blackboard covered in elaborate chalk diagrams and Latin phrases

Dusty shelves holding jars of formaldehyde-preserved specimens

Antique microscopes and brass telescopes waiting to be used

The tick-tock of a grandfather clock counting down the minutes

The Dormitory 🕯️

A four-poster bed heaped with tattered quilts and faded velvet pillows

Parquet wood floors layered with antique persian rugs

Flickering candles in tarnished silver holders casting dancing shadows

A steamer trunk overflowing with vintage tweeds and wool knits

Tea-stained pages of love letters and poetry scattered on the nightstand

The Secret Society Meeting Room 🗝️

An imposing stone fireplace with Latin phrases carved into the mantel

Worn leather armchairs circled around a low table set with tarnished silver

The air thick with pipe smoke and burning incense

Shelves lined with ancient masks, ceremonial daggers, and dusty alchemical tomes

Shadows dancing on the tapestry-covered walls in the candlelight

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

@errorunfound1

Yandere!neglectful!Batfam x mom!reader

Wayne Manor had always felt vast, but to you, it was more of a void than a home. It was easy to get lost in its endless hallways, in the constant hum of life orbiting Bruce’s nocturnal mission. You married him for love, despite knowing the weight of the life he led. You accepted his scars, his mission, his world. But what you hadn’t expected was how little space there would be left for you in it.

Bruce was always out, chasing shadows, leaving you to navigate a family that seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length. You poured your heart into them—Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian—but your efforts were met with indifference at best and disdain at worst. You had been a mother in every way that mattered, yet the coldness you received in return made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to act like you care,” Jason sneered once when you tried to patch him up after patrol. “We both know you’re just here for him.”

Tim barely acknowledged you unless it was necessary, his head buried in his work. Dick’s smiles, once genuine, now felt like politeness masking discomfort. And Damian, always the sharpest, had no qualms about cutting you down. “You’re not my mother,” he’d said, his words a dagger that twisted in your chest.

Bruce never intervened. When you tried to tell him, his responses were dismissive. “They’ll come around,” he’d say before disappearing into the night. But they never did.

So, you stayed quiet, swallowing the hurt, letting it fester.

One night, you stood in the empty dining room, staring at the cold, untouched dinner you’d prepared. The clock ticked on the wall, counting the hours Bruce was late. Again. You could hear the faint hum of voices from the Batcave below, the family gathered around him while you sat alone.

It wasn’t anger that bubbled up this time. It was resignation.

You left that night, not with a dramatic goodbye, but with a simple bag and a note left on the kitchen counter.

“I love you, but I can’t keep losing myself in a family that doesn’t want me.”

The days without you passed unnoticed at first. Bruce buried himself in his work, assuming you needed time to cool off. The Batkids carried on as usual, their lives too busy to miss the quiet presence you’d once provided.

It was Alfred who noticed first—the meals left uneaten, the flowers on the windowsill wilting. “Sir,” he said carefully one evening, “she’s not coming back.”

Bruce stopped mid-step, his expression flickering. “She just needs time.”

But days turned into weeks, and the absence became impossible to ignore. The manor felt colder, emptier. Jason snapped more often, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. Tim’s focus wavered, his mistakes piling up in a way they never had before. Damian trained harder, his strikes sharper, but there was a new tension in him, an unease he wouldn’t voice.

“She left us,” Damian said one night, his tone sharp but brittle. “That’s on her.”

“No,” Dick said quietly, guilt heavy in his voice. “It’s on us.”

Bruce found you three weeks later, living in a modest apartment far from the grandeur of Wayne Manor. The door was locked, but that had never been an obstacle for him. He let himself in, his imposing frame filling the doorway as you stood frozen in the kitchen.

“Bruce,” you said, your voice tight.

“Come home.” His tone was soft but firm, the same voice he used to give orders in the field.

Your laugh was bitter, hollow. “Home? That place hasn’t felt like home in years.”

His jaw tightened, the only sign of his frustration. “You belong there. With me. With them.”

“I belonged there once,” you said, your voice breaking. “But I spent years trying to love a family that couldn’t love me back. Do you even realize how much it hurt, Bruce? To be invisible in my own home?”

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “I didn’t see it. I should have. But I’m here now.”

“Too late,” you whispered, tears spilling over.

But Bruce Wayne was not a man who gave up easily. His hand reached out, brushing against yours. “You think I’ll let you go that easily?” His voice dropped, a dangerous edge slipping into his tone. “You’re mine. You always have been.”

You pulled away, shaking your head. “You don’t love me, Bruce. You love control. You love having someone waiting for you. But I won’t be that person anymore.”

The silence between you was heavy, suffocating. His eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go. But Bruce was nothing if not persistent.

“You’re coming home,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding.

Before you could respond, his hand shot forward, pressing a syringe into your arm. The sharp sting was followed by a wave of dizziness, and your legs buckled.

“Bruce,” you gasped, your vision swimming as he caught you.

“It’s for your own good,” he murmured, his arms cradling you as darkness pulled you under.

(A/n: this is why I don't take money 😅 writing shi asf 😔🔥 chat did I cook or am I cooked?)

[cozwalt]

I cannot justify the amount of money that larp companies charge for foam weapons as a cosplayer ;•;

If you don’t own the equipment to make foam weapons then it’s a fair price but for me it aaaiiiin’t

[clockwizart]

Wall Clock snake, snakes on clock dagger on clock wall clock with snakes

[lulunothulu]

“Migraine Induced”

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: You have a migraine and Jake’s the one who caused and clocked it.

Content: good ole Hangman charm, migraines, FLUFF

Your call-sign: Sparrow (yes I know it’s been used before but not the same universe lol)

“Sparrow!”

You wince at Hangman’s loud and obnoxious voice. You’d had a migraine for the past few hours and his loud, southern drawl wasn’t helping.

“Sparrow!” He calls again. You pinch the bridge of your nose before turning around.

“What?” You ask harshly.

“You joinin’ us tonight?” He asks, winking at you.

As much as you’d like to react to him winking at you (and god did you want to) you furrow your brows, placing pressure on your right eye before shaking your head. “I’m sorry, where?”

“Hard Deck,” Rooster says, walking toward the two of you. “We asked you about it yesterday?”

Oh fuck.

“Yeah,” you start, “I think imma have to sit this one out.”

“C’Mon,” Phoenix joins in, playfully elbowing you. “Don’t leave me here with all these boys.”

“We’re men,” Coyote corrects.

“Whatever,” Phoenix laughs. She turns to you, expectantly waiting for your response.

“Um,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut to then open them again. “Sure.”

———

Later after work, you and Phoenix are playing pool and about a beer or two into drinking. You thought it would help but of course…it didn’t. Your migraine still hadn’t passed and you were starting to squint, trying to keep the light out. So you asked Bob to get you a water, thinking that would help.

Of course the one day you need an ibuprofen, you leave it at home.

“You okay?” Bob asks from the stool he frequents.

“Never better Bobby boy.” You flash him a tight smile before groaning when Hangman approaches you and Phoenix.

“Ladies,” he says loudly. If the music in the bar was loud, Hangman made sure to be louder. “What’re we drinking?”

“I’m having beer, Sparrow’s drinking water,” Phoenix tells him.

Hangman turns his gaze to you, green eyes full of something you hadn’t seen before. Was that worry? And why did that do something to you?

“Is that so?” He asks, flashing you his famous cocky smile and shedding whatever possessed him before.

“Yeah, I’m not really in the mood to drink,” you tell him.

“Let’s change that.” Before you can begin to resist, Hangman turned to the rest of the Dagger Squad before yelling, “Let’s play a little game called ‘List Five Things’.”

Around you, Rooster, Hangman, Phoenix, and Coyote gather around in a circle. Bob, Payback, and Fanboy decided to sit this game out and are acting as the judges.

You knew the game well—list five things for whatever someone chooses. The twist to it is you have to remember what the person before you said that way, you can not only repeat what they had said—but also add on. If you end up forgetting, you have to take a shot.

“Coyote,” Hangman calls. “Start us off.”

“List five things a woman would say to you on a first date,” Coyote smiles.

“You’re handsome,” Hangman smirks across from you, winking in your direction.

“You’re handsome, you look nice,” Rooster adds.

“You’re handsome, you look nice, you have a pretty smile,” Phoenix adds.

“You’re handsome, you look nice, you have a pretty smile, yoi have something in your teeth,” you add, a fake smile directed toward Hangman.

“You’re handsome, you look nice, you have a pretty smile, you have something in your teeth, and your dance moves are killer,” Coyote ends it. 

This goes on for a while, only you and Jake drinking five shots compared to everyone else’s seven to eight. You were all pretty plastered and you knew your migraine would be ten times worse tomorrow.

“Sparrow, my dear,” Hangman smiles, taking a swig of his beer. “You’re up.”

“Name five things you can say in bed,” you randomly blurt.

“That’s tight,” Coyote laughs.

“Thats tight, where are my clothes?” Hangman smiles.

“That’s tight, where’s my clothes?, can I taste?” Rooster adds, wiggling his brows at Coyote making him howl in a laugh while simultaneously making you flinch at the loudness.

Across from you, Hangman’s brows furrow.

“That’s tight, where’s my clothes?, can I taste?…”Phoenix thinks before shouting very loudly in your ear, “GOT PROTECTION?!”

“Fuck!” You yell, grabbing your right eye and shutting both in pain.

“You lose, Y/N!” Everyone yells.

Well, everyone but Hangman.

No, he’s watching you with the same worried expression on his face. But instead of hiding it like he did before, he makes a point to walk up to you and tilt you head back for you look up at him.

“Let’s go outside,” he tells you.

“I’m fine,” you start.

“Now.”

You obey, hearing the others whoop and whistle behind you. You allow him to walk you out to the beach before sitting you down in the warm sand.

“What’s going on? You’ve been a lot more irritable today and that says a lot because normally loud noises wouldn’t bother you.” He’s squatting before you, practically begging you to rip his vocal cords out by how loud he’s talking.

“Just for once, can you please talk quieter?” You scold. “It’s bad enough you’re already loud, just…dial it down.”

He silently watches you, at least you assume because you’ve already closed your eyes again. Even though you’re fairly far away from the bar, you can still feel the pulsing in your eye every time someone inside yells.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “Sometimes I get over-excited and can’t help myself.”

To say you’re surprised is an understatement. Hangman had never apologized to you or anyone for anything. Not even when he almost got into a fight with Rooster that one time. Or that other time he ran into you as you ran during PT.

You squint to look at him. He’s breathtaking. The moonlight lights his handsome face and makes his green eyes look almost aquamarine. His golden skin practically glows, his hair along with it.

You were caught off guard by those thoughts. Why are feelings suddenly manifesting for him? And why do you like how it feels deep in your stomach?

“Are you seriously apologizing?” You ask.

“Don’t get used to it, sweetheart.” He smiles down at you before grunting and joining you in the sand.

You sit in comfortable silence, taking in the crashing of the waves ahead and the beautiful night sky.

“I have a migraine,” you finally tell him. Looking up at the barely starred sky. “I’ve had one since,” you look at your watch and it reads 2:35 AM. “4:15 PM yesterday.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to drink,” he states. “You didn’t want to have to nurse that and a hangover.”

“Yup,” you say, lips popping on the ‘p’.

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” he tells you.

You snort. “How?”

“Let’s go for a dip,” he smiles.

“Now how the hell is that gonna help?” You frown. “I’m not skinny dipping with you.”

“As much as I know you’d love that, no. The water’s cool.”

“Okay?” You reply, still frowning and ignoring the comment.

“The cool water to your feet will help minimize the pain in that thick ass head of yours,” he says, standing and offering you his hands.

“I do not have a thick head,” you mutter, taking his rough hands. “That’s all you, Bagman.”

“I’m just here helping you out of the goodness of my heart and you want to insult me?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand after you both remove your shoes.

In fact, he holds it even when you both start splashing in the water and again when you decide to walk down the beach, shoes in his other hand.

He stops you in your tracks when you both return to Hard Deck. You’re standing on the back deck of the bar and looking in on your colleagues and friends laughing up a storm.

“What?” You ask, a small smile creeping on your lips.

“Did the water help?” He asks, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

You smile up at him, you never realized how much taller he was than you. Maybe a head taller? And god, he smelled so good.

“Yes, it helped a lot actually,” you tell him. “Thank you, Jake.”

“I like how your voice sounds with my name on your lips ,” he flirts.

“Are you flirting with me Seresin?” You grin.

“God, even my last band sounds good,” he rolls his eyes in pleasure.

You laugh, going on your tiptoes and kissing his cheek. “Fuck off, Bagman.”

You make to turn away but he catches your wrist and spins you around so fast, you feel like falling. Only, he catches you before planting his lips on yours.

It’s like a scene from a cheesy rom-com you and Phoenix watch. You used to think it was funny but now actually living it? You loved it.

Jake pulls away, panting before giving you the biggest smile. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Have you?” You ask.

He nods. Then, pulling you up and in his arms, he asks, “So did this help ease the migraine aftermath?”

You smile, reaching up to pull him in for another kiss.

“Definitely. But I think a date would settle it once and for all.”

Before he even has time to answer, you’re pushing him away softly and swaying your hips to walk into the bar.

“Fuck, I think I’m in love,” he mutters to himself.

I kinda wanna write a part two…. Their date maybe and her realizing she really likes him? Let me know 💗💗

[buckys-estrella]

I had the most delicious dream ab bob floyd and I’ve been replaying it in my head since I woke up

[hyuny-bunny]

what are your thoughts on skz with a dumb s/o? like genuinely ditzy and little absentminded and forgetful, but you’re still such a sweetheart. makes them wonder how dumb you’ll go on their cocks.

skz + dumb s/o

MDNI(18+): suggestive, nsfw, corruption kink, dumb kink ?, finger sucking, oral, penetration.

love this ask so much, it's not something i've thought much about before but here you go ! :3

chan: oh he dotes on you sooooo much. in the beginning he thought it was just a cute quirk but as you became more serious he realized... you really are just ditzy. he can't lie that he has to hold back on the days you can't help saying "huh?" or "hmm?" to everything but it sounds so saccharine from you. he loves the duality of it though. he can dote on you with how cute your whims are then flip you into a submissive state. even more so when he decides to pin you down in the backseat of his car putting your pretty mouth to good use. chastising you with "pretty baby so cock dumb hmm? only good for sucking me off huh?" with your response being your typical "hmm?" but your mouth stuffed with cock instead. even with your whimpers to take more of him in your mouth, he's happy to oblige holding your pretty face in his hands to use your mouth.

minho: as 1/3 of paboracha, he's never minded. intially i think he would think consider them as one off moments like asking the same question twice in a 2 second span. he might look at for a solid momemt with those cat blinking stares, processing that you're serious. he finds it cute though!! maybe quietly giggling to himself before kissing you on the forehead in passing. he likes it even more so when you're too cock dumb from him making you ride him while he coos and pets you like he does a cat. after trying to tease him all day with sex and suggestive groping. he only let you ride his thigh before caving into you enough to give you his cock after you begged him so nicely. "jagiya, use your words hm? too dumb to speak now hmm?" he'll say while thrusting up into you pretending he's not paying you any attention

changbin: loves loves loves how ditzy you are. he likes playing into the idea that he's just as much brain as he is brawn to you. especially when you're so absentminded with your surroundings in public. maybe there's someone being creepy towards you in a cafe, he's clocked them in already wrapping a protective arm around. you pick up in his protectiveness and to find your answer is being stared down with daggers by binnie. you're hero, savior! you have to reward him with the best head he'll ever had so you're happily taking him in your mouth once your home. he's got you on his cock taking him all the way down his throat while he coaxes you into fitting it all in your mouth "stupid angel always needs time to come to rescue mmh rewards me so sweetly."

hyunjin: 2/3 of paboracha coming in. he'd never think you were outright dumb, ditzy ? oblivious ? yes. he himself has no room to judge, you'd probably have him questioning himself on multiple occasions. you're probably just a little more oblivious around him, which he doesn't mind one bit. he kinda finds it cute how little though you probably give to so many things. he finds it even cuter when he's able to convince you to wear an outfit he picked out for you, one that of course will give him easy access to tease you in public. it was supposed to be cute picnic in secluded area of the park, until he had you laid out on the blanket taking his cock from behind shoving strawberry in your mouth & sucking fingers to shut you up. "shhh my love, don't want people to find us okay? can't let them see how stupid you were to let me take you like this"

han: going 3 for 3 with paboracha here. another one who dotes on your ditzy nature. i could see him with a s/o that's a little more clumsy. maybe you're always scraping a knee, bumping into sharp corners, burning yourself while cooking/baking, or just straight up walking into glass doors or poles. whatever the case may be he's there holding out his arms to soothe you, giving you kisses all over your face. he finds out how easy it is to convince you to the dumbest things. like convincing you that if you let him go down on you, his headache will go away or you're sore throat from the concert last night will feel sooooo much better if you blow him. that by swallow his cum, it'll feel & tase better then honey. "that's it's, good, suck me dry baby i promise you'll feel better. we might have to try a few loads of cum for it to work, k? just focus on taking it all though." his head thrown back while shoving you further on his cock.

felix: he likes that your so absentminded and ditzy. it make its so easy for him to impress you. especially when he has you sitting like a curious cat on his bed while you watch him build his new PC. your eyes sparking with excitement as he completes each step. or even when you watch him bake his recipes from scratch. doe eyed while you sit perched on the counter making your favorite brownies! he'd take a finger coated in the batter letting you lick off his fingers which only leads to him fucking you on the counter while he makes you choke on his batter covered fingers, "doesn't your orgasm feel so much better when you have something so sweet in your mouth mm? maybe let's watch you suck me off with the batter on my cock since you like my fingers so much?"

seungmin: mean dom seung *sigh*. he loves you to death but god you make it so easy for him to tease you. you're not a quick as he is, whether it's his snarky remarks or quick reactions to things he knows. you try to learn baseball, not actually playing but you know the basic rules. you want to try to at least understand what goes in the game. you're not the best but your attempts don't go unnoticed. even when someone hits a home-run but you're shouting goal so confidently it has him falling to his knees in laughing clutching his stomach because you genuinely meant it. he calls you the nth member of paboracha but in bed you're his dumb cock slut, taking him so good you're babbling nonsense. " what was that slut ? did you say something ? aren't you too dumb for words? " he'd condescendingly say before slamming himself into you once more.

jeongin: bark. sorry i love him so badly. he takes your ditzy nature as naiveness. whether or not that's the case, he'll treat it that way. even when you try to argue over something you know already he'll talk to you so sweetly like he's done such a good job of teaching you. maybe you're trying to learn japanese and his fluency helps you but he'll tsk you if he's in a particular mood. maybe you're out in japan gawking, 'ooh'ing and 'aww'ing at each store and you're curiosity almost gets you dragged in a male host club. so jeongin decides you need a break for a few hours so he checks you into a love hotel (unbeknownst to you) where he'd spend the next 2 hours or so talking down in your ear while he plays with you between your legs. haughtily scolding you for every single thing that's led to this moment, " i thought you knew better ? you have to listen to me jagiya, there's so many people out there that just want to use you hmm. guess i'll just have to show you." all before bending you over and smooshing your face into the pillow to abuse your hole with his cock, crying out for him to let you cum. chastising you until he's felt you learned you lesson.

[lowkeyren]

—catch me if you can!

in which : it’s a classic game of cat and mouse between you and moze, yet why does it seem like the mouse is enjoying the chase far more than the cat?

pairing : moze x gn!reader

wc 1.9k, exorcist x ghost, last part ib a chinese superstition (ghost marriages), u tease HIM like.. a lot, implied past lovers if u squint, art by @/darkavey, reblogs r much appreciated!! enjoy <3

"the hunter gets haunted while trying to hunt the haunter" brain stroke? yeah me too. anyway, happy halloween! dearest @https-sourlimes moze kisser + lovely @cherieiu n @iceunhie proofread this ^^

moze senses your presence long before he sees you. the flickering candle flames dance erratically, casting long, distorted shadows across the walls as if acknowledging your arrival. his instincts sharpen as he scans the room, fully aware that you're close —though unable to pinpoint where you’re hiding.

his grip on the dagger remains firm, a steady calm settling over him as he prepares, knowing you're out there, watching him from within the shadows, waiting. he starts to recite an incantation; his voice echoes through the hall, the air crackles with energy, ready to draw you out. 

(after months of this relentless back-and-forth —countless of times you’ve narrowly evaded him, slipping through his fingers just when he thought he had you caught, he’s confident he finally has you in his grasp.)

the silence that follows his pause is nearly suffocating, broken only by the steady ticking of the clock. until a sudden chill slithers down his spine, accompanied by a soft, teasing whisper near his ear, so close it feels as if lips are hovering just above his skin, “were you hoping i’d appear just for you?” 

moze swears he can see you smiling through the reflection of his dagger.

instinctively, he spins around, heart racing, adrenaline surging through his veins —only to find nothing. the room is exactly as it was, albeit this time the ticking has stopped, and the candles in the room start to flicker, before the room goes completely dark.

he hurriedly scrambles to find a match, striking it to bring a flicker of light to illuminate the dark room, but his breath catches in his throat when he finds your face just inches away from his.

“boo—!” he’s unsure if his heart is racing from the shock of your sudden appearance or from your close proximity, perhaps it’s a mix of both. any closer and you would've…

he quickly composes himself and swings his dagger, aiming right for your chest —only for the metal to pass right through you. he stumbles back. “really, moze?”

“you should know by now that these basic rituals don’t work on me.” you tilt your head at him, a playful smile tugging at your lips, your eyes gleaming with mischief. “you wretched—” he begins through gritted teeth; you gently place a finger on his lips, the ghostly touch silencing him instantly.

“better luck next time, pretty boy.” 

his eye narrows at the nickname, a mix of exasperation and a flutter in his chest he can't quite put a finger on. he raises his dagger in a futile attempt to strike, but by then, you’ve already disappeared into a whirl of mist, leaving him grasping at nothing but the lingering echo of your laughter.

moze isn’t able to get a wink of sleep. 

pretty boy? he scoffs at the thought, not sure whether he should feel insulted that you called him a boy, or focus on the fact that you called him pretty. 

he shifts in his bed uncomfortably, trying to dismiss the strange flutter in his chest, but it’s no use. every time he closes his eyes, you're there —hovering at the edge of his thoughts, as if you’re haunting him (when he’s supposed to be the one hunting you.)

the memory of your teasing voice and the glint in your eyes keeps pulling him back from slumber, making him question why, of all things that happened today, that’s what stuck with him.

moze is anything but weak, renowned for his skill, his expertise is unmatched; yet of all the spirits he's faced —some stubborn, some cunning —none have been as elusive as you. 

what makes you so different, so maddeningly irresistible?

but now that he thinks about it, you’ve never attacked him, not once. it’s always him on the offensive; chasing, striking, trying to pin you down. while you, on the other hand, merely tease and toy with him, calling him those pet names that feel far too intimate for mere “enemies” before disappearing into thin air.

breaking his line of thought, a soft giggle reverberates through the hall, a sound both familiar and infuriating. 

…ah right, focus. 

he scans the shadows, every inch of the room, but finds nothing. “come out, i know you’re here!” he calls out, frustration creeping into his tone. you’re playing your games again, always just beyond his grasp, a tantalising wisp of a spirit who knows precisely how to keep him on edge.

in the dark, you closely observe moze. you notice the subtle rise and fall of his breath; he’s tense, exasperated, and yet something in his eyes betrays that flicker of intrigue he tries so hard to bury. it’s almost endearing, the way he’s so wound up, yet completely at your mercy.

“you can't hide forever,” he growls, his voice low, the sound echoing through the empty room. "show yourself, or i’ll—”

“you’ll do what, exactly?” you whisper from just behind him, a teasing murmur that brushes past his ear, vanishing as soon as he whips around to strike. “you’ve had a hundred chances to exorcise me, but you still can’t bring yourself to let go.”

“i’ll finish what i started,” he scowls, though it sounds more like a threat than a promise.

“so you say, but deep down? i think you’re starting to like this little chase of ours. are you sure you’re not the one who keeps coming back to me?"

—you swear you catch the slightest twitch in his expression.

“don’t flatter yourself," he mutters, though his words don’t quite carry the same conviction.

"then why do you look for me?" you tease, circling around him like mist, your voice a gentle taunt in his ear. "it’s not duty that brings you here every night, is it, moze?"

he’s known many spirits, but this —you, are something else.

as he stands there, lost in thought, you whistle from the end of the hall, your voice ringing out like a beckoning call. “over here, pretty boy.”

he fights the urge to smile at your audacity, the playful lilt of your voice slipping under his skin. “what are you playing at?”

“nothing, i just want to see how far you’ll go,” you reply, your voice laced with mischief as you linger just out of reach. “come catch me if you can.”

with that, you vanish into the shadows, leaving him standing there, heart racing, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. he steels himself, adrenaline kicking in as he begins his pursuit once more, knowing that this game is far from over.

“i know you’re here,” he murmurs to the empty space, half hoping for a response, half expecting you to just flit out from a corner without warning. 

just then, a sudden chill envelops him as your cool hand gently obscures his vision, he feels icy fingers trail along his skin, teasingly tracing a path from the nape of his neck down to his shoulders and across his chest, sending shivers coursing through him. 

a huff of cold air brushes against his cheeks, delicate and fleeting, like the whisper of a lover's breath. it lingers just above his skin, as if someone exhaled right beside his face.

(every fiber of his being yearns to call it a night, and maybe it's the exhaustion washing for him but… for a ghost, you sure smell good.)

he feels a cold touch on his neck, and he knows damn well that it isn't your hand, because one of your hands is still covering his eyes, while the other rests on his chest, fingers splayed across his palpitating heart. a gentle nip leaves behind a chill, igniting his senses and drawing a soft gasp from his lips.

his grip on the dagger falters, the weapon clattering to the floor as if it’s nothing more than weightless feathers. one hand finds its way to your waist, pulling you closer. the other instinctively lifts to your wrist, gently prying your fingers away from his eyes.

“don’t hide,” he murmurs, his voice more of a plea than a challenge, as if he craves the clarity of your presence more than the thrill of the chase.

“you want me to look at you?” you tease, a familiar smirk gracing your lips.

he’s acutely aware of how your body fits against his, the way your cold body contrasts with the heat radiating from him. “yes,” he replies, there’s a softness in his eyes, his gaze traces over you, as if to will you into life.

you lean in closer, the space between you narrowing until it feels like you’re suspended in time, and he realises he doesn’t want this game to end. not yet. not ever.

in xianzhou, there's a superstition —a whispered belief, if you will; that picking up money from the ground can bring bad luck, or worse yet, lead to an "accidental marriage" with a ghost. accepting the money, it’s said, forms an unintended bond between the person and the spirit who left it behind.

moze is well aware of this. he’s also very aware of the strales scattered across the ground in front of him, seemingly waiting for him to make a choice.

he glances around, though he’s not entirely sure why; deep down, he already knows there’s only one person who could be behind this.

“not today,” he mutters under his breath, though the way his heart quickens suggests he’s not as resolute as he wants to be. “why are you messing with me like this?” 

a soft giggle echoes in response, light and airy, as if carried on the wind. “it's fun watching you squirm,” you tease, your voice carrying a haunting ring that lingers in the air.

he narrows his eyes, trying to shake off the feeling that clings to him— “i don’t believe in superstitions.” —yet a faint, stubborn “unease” still twists in his chest.

“is that so?” you reply, amusement dripping from every syllable. “then prove it. show me how brave you are.”

his own heart betrays him with its racing beat.

“fine, if you’re so keen on games, i’ll play.” he hopes the sound of his boots scuffing against the floor will mask the frantic beating of his heart.

but as he reaches out, the air around him cools, prickling the skin at his nape. your presence looms close, closer than ever. “...are you sure?” you murmur, the amusement in your voice giving way to something softer. 

his fingers twitch, as the cold sinks deeper, prickling through his skin and settling somewhere far more vulnerable. “i’m sure.” he’s teetering on the edge of something dangerously familiar, a reminder of a time when your touch was warm, alive. 

“i wonder, will you regret it?”

he glances over his shoulder, feeling your chill wrap around him like a shroud. his hand hovers above the strales, fingertips just grazing the metal. “only if you give me a reason to.” 

"careful what you ask for,” you whisper. and he closes his eyes, unable to deny the ache that resurfaces, raw and unbidden. 

what makes you so different, so maddeningly irresistible? it’s a foolish question, yet he knows the answer lies within your eyes. he can’t help but wonder if, when he opens his eyes to meet yours, he’ll be stepping closer to salvation.

MASTERLIST.