#Summoning Contract

[mandokarla-mavrok]

If Sakura Haruno had her own summons, not something handed down to her like Katsuyu but actually reversed summoned herself, what Animal Summons do you think she would get?

or what animal summons would you like to see her have in a fanfic?

and why?

[sri-fanfic]

Absolutely Horrible Naruto Fanfic Idea

50. Sarutobi's monkey contract includes being able to summon Saiyans

[bluerosefox]

The MANY Bloodlines of Constantine

Those Constantine is Danny's dad and sold his kid soul because he thought he'd actually never have one and Danny is now the Ghost King so his soul claims are invalid AUs but learns he's not Constantine only kid (after a while Constantine honestly 100% thought he'd never have kids and never bothered with a 1st born clause when making deals, maybe some annoyed deity or powerful magic user made Constantine think he can't have kids anymore just to get back at the conman) and now doing everything in his Kingly power to save his half-siblings (can be other teens from other shows or movies or cartoons etc etc) because Danny is the oldest of them and really really wants to punch his biodad for making such a huge mess he has to deal with but Danny does get to meet and protect his younger Half-siblings.

Then comes the day he's celebrating one of his half-sibs birthday with all the others when he's suddenly summoned out of the blue and meets not just the Justice League but his, and his half-sibs, no good soul selling biodad.

Hello rightly placed aggression.... Once he takes care of that powerful evil spirit that's attacking earth first of course.

[o0sleepingdead0o]

The King and the Assassin

Damian blearily blinked at the stone that tilted and shifted beneath his body, spattered with his blood and leaking out towards the edges of the summoning circle. He had been hit in the head. It throbbed. He was dizzy, even laying on his side on the floor and not moving. His limbs had been bound and he couldn’t raise his hands to hold his head until it stopped spinning. Or, and probably more practically, staunch the bleeding in his stomach. His grandfather chanted some language Damian didn’t know, which was impressive. Damian knew many languages.

Ra’s volume grew and the circle burst into a wall of green flames and glinted eerily on Damian’s blood in the cave's dim lighting. 

Damian’s heart should be faster. He was frightened. Frightened what his grandfather would do with whatever came through the summoning circle, frightened of death, though he’d never admit it, and he was bleeding out. He’d lost so much blood. It was probably better that his heart wasn’t beating faster. 

He was going to die. Would his father refrain from killing Damian’s killer, like he’d refused to kill Todd’s? Damian had known it was a sore spot between the two, and it was quite enraging from this new perspective. Depressing. 

Maybe one of Damian’s siblings would avenge him. Perhaps Grayson.

The flames surged higher and the temperature plummeted. Damian shivered, though that could be the blood loss. His grandfather stopped chanting as deafening cracks like two glaciers ramming into each other boomed and echoed across the cave. Static was slipped into the cacophony between the screeching crashing and just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

The noise was gone, the flames sputtered out, and Ra’s stared in awe at something Damian couldn’t see. Stone pressed into the side of his face and the world was lilted sideways. But he could feel it. The presence of overwhelming power radiating somewhere above him that covered him in goosebumps and took his breath away. The strength was formidable. It was suffocating.

“Really? Another one?” The being’s displeased grumble resonated in the air and layered as if many spoke at once. Damian breathed deeply.

He was going to die soon. There was no point in being scared of whatever this thing was. 

“Your Majesty,” Ra’s started. “I am Ra’s Al Gh—“

“I don’t care.”

His grandfather’s face twitched and his jaw clamped shut with irritation written along the tension in his muscles. 

If Damian were in a better state he might have snorted. No, perhaps he would have just stared as he was doing now. No one interrupted Ra’s, Demon Head of the League of Assassins, and if they did, they wouldn’t live much longer. But his grandfather remained silent in the face of this being.

That did not bode well.

“Who is this?”

Damian’s heart stuttered as feet armoured in sharp, glassy ice, came into his vision. They landed delicately in front of him as if gravity was an option.

Okay, now he was scared again. If Grandfather was wary of this being, Damian didn’t want it’s attention.

Damian was a vigilante, he was an ex-assassin, he’d faced many terrible things, he didn’t get scared. This was ridiculous.

“My grandson. Damian Al Ghul.”

The being crouched down and Damian was met with glowing, green eyes that swept him up and down.

Damian didn't like this at all. He’d feel much better facing this creature’s evaluating gaze, standing, unbound, and uninjured. This sensation was quite unsettling. Damian’s eyes grew hazier by the second and he tried his best to study the being in turn.

It had snow-white hair and pointed ears. It’s tanned face was dashed with freckles and wore black ice for chest armour. White ice, similar to it's boots, protected it's hands. It looked young. No older than Damian himself. Perhaps a year or two younger.

The being hummed and it buzzed not unpleasantly in Damian’s ears. 

“Your Majesty, I have summon—“

“Shut up.” It said absent-mindedly, never straying it’s gaze from Damian. Ra’s begrudgingly did as he was told. Damian caught glimpses of his seething disposition behind the being blocking most of Damian’s view.

Then, the being smiled at him. Rows of sharp teeth were visible behind abnormally long canines and Damian withheld a shudder. He didn’t show fear. The being’s smile was disturbingly sharp, unnaturally wide, Damian’s heartbeat ticked up, but he didn’t show fear. 

“My, my, you’re a pretty one, aren’t you?” It said and Damian blinked. He didn’t. . .he didn’t know how to process that. The being’s hand reached out to brush his hair out of his face, frigid digits brushing lightly against Damian’s skin. “Tell you what.” The being said, his smile a little less wide, but no less haunting and filled with anticipatory intent that Damian didn’t find reassuring at all. “I’ll heal you.” The being’s head tilted. “And in exchange, you give me your hand in marriage.”

Damian short-circuited. His heart paused. His mouth parted. He may have stopped breathing for a moment.

He blinked several times. 

Surely he misheard that.

“. . .What?” He croaked. It took a concerning amount of energy to speak that one word.

“Times a-ticking.” It sang lowly, a knowing smile on it’s face. “You don’t have much longer. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re a ghost or living, but. . .” The being leaned slightly towards where his head tipped to get a better look at Damian’s soon-to-be death wound. “I assume you’d prefer the latter?”

Damian stared up at the being, dumbfounded. Knots of indecipherable emotions sat heavy in his chest as he nodded, mutely. He didn’t know what else to do. His family had no idea where he was or what had happened to him. By the time they figured it out, Damian would be dead. He could feel a darkness creeping into his head and tiring at his eyes. His body felt heavier the longer he laid here and the call to sleep grew stronger and stronger.

He would never wake up.

Or maybe he would become a ghost. That’s what the being said. Was it a ghost? His grandfather had said something about a ghost king, now that he thought about it. Damian had been a little too concussed to pay attention properly.

“Wonderful.” The being drawled with a widening smile that made Damian doubt that this was really a good idea.

From nothing, a rolled up piece of green, slightly glowing paper, manifested in the being’s hand. The ghost let it fall open with a flourish. The being read it aloud.

“Damian Al Ghul Wayne,” 

How did this ghost know he was a Wayne?

“In exchange for being fully healed, agrees to wed me, High King Phantom,” He flashed him another toothy smile “And reside in the Infinite Realms in the Royal Keep. Sound good to you?” It—Phantom—said.

Not really, but what else was Damian supposed to do? He had a thought. “Family.” He managed to say with some effort. “Visits.”

The ghost hummed and nodded amicably much to Damian’s relief. If he can see his family and tell them what happened, maybe they can help get him out of this.

Phantom waved his hand and new words appeared on the contract. He cleared his throat. Damian was starting to think he’d die before they got through all this.

“Damian Al Ghul Wayne, In exchange for being fully healed, agrees to wed High King Phantom and reside in the Royal Keep, with the exception of familial visits to the mortal realm.”

Damian kept his surprise from his face. He’d expected his family would be brought to the Infinite Realms, not the other way around. 

“How ‘bout that?” Phantom smiled down at him.

Damian nodded. Or tried to.

Phantom’s smile got wider. That bad feeling swirled again in Damian’s stomach. 

A feathery pen appeared in Phantom’s free hand and he scrawled his name in flowy letters along the bottom without hesitation. The pen disappeared into thin air. Phantom reached over Damian to slice through his chains easily with a claw.

Damian’s vision was blurring and his movements were sluggish as he pulled his freed hands in front of him. Phantom held out the same pen to him before Damian could even look at his raw wrists, and his shaking hands could hardly grasp it.

“Here. Let me.” Phantom placed the pen between the dying one’s fingers and held his freezing hand over Damian’s. He guided it toward the contract that floated near Damian’s head and touched the pen to paper.

Damian breathed uneasily as green, glowing ink followed the path of the pen, drawing out his name in increasingly alarming reality.

What was Damian doing? This was insane. Was this actually happening?

His heart beat faster, his blood flowed quicker, as the last letter was finished off with a flourish.

The contract glowed brighter and brighter until it disappeared ,conclusively, along with the pen.

Phantom turned to him and held a hand out. The effect was immediate. Damian’s blood ran backwards, dredging back from where it had leaked all over the floor to return to the veins it had been pumped out of. The black threatening to take over Damian’s consciousness slowly dissipated, and his wrists and ankles were healed of the chafing from the shackles. Breathing became easier. His vision grew clearer. His pain was gone. All of it.

Phantom’s hand dropped and Damian pushed himself to sitting, wondrously clenching and unclenching his perfectly functioning hands.

“Better?” Phantom said, standing up. He held a hand out to Damian. The latter eyed it cautiously before flicking his gaze up to the ghost’s face. 

“Yes. . .thank you. . .”

“Don’t mention it.” The being hauled Damian to his feet with a casual strength that seemed to surpass his lean muscle. As if Damian weighed nothing at all. The ghost king was a bit shorter than Damian’s six feet and floated to his eye level. He smiled once again. Was it automatic, or did he realize how off-setting it could be and used it? “It wasn’t a favour, after all.”

Damian’s jaw clenched and he hummed, disgruntledly.

“Awww.” The being laughed disappointedly. “That bad, is it?” He raised a hand to Damian’s face and he jerked back, catching the wrist before he could think better of it, and immediately cursing himself for acting so recklessly. Phantom’s hand went intangible and Damian’s eyes widened imperceptibly as it was pulled through his grasp. “Alright, alright.” Phantom placated, holding up his hands.

“Tt.” Damian clicked his tongue, hiding his relief and how erratically his heart fluttered in his chest.

“Your Majesty, might I have your attention?” Ra’s voice was strained with displeasure and he stood stiffly, restrained retaliation to the blatant slights on his person.

“Oh. Right. The fruitloop. Forgot about you.” The smile fell from Phantom’s face as if it had never been there. His tone dropped all previous easiness—because that is what it had been, seeing the undeniable change—and regarded the Demon Head rather coldly. “The one who decided sacrificing his own grandchild was a good idea.”

Damian glanced to the high king, something easing just a little that the king seemed to have some sort of moral compass. 

His grandfather paused, realizing he had made a terrible mistake and calculating a way out of this. “He was the only one wort—“

“I don’t really care for your excuses.” Phantom spat, his voice gaining more layers and glitching with harsh static that wasn’t there before. The room grew colder and frost leached across the ground from where Phantom floated. It didn’t touch Damian. “I have heard about you, a man pretending at being immortal and killing whoever you pleased. I can smell it on you.” Phantom snarled lowly as he neared the man, making his grandfather pale; a feat Damian has never seen accomplished. “Ectoplasm—the realm’s ectoplasm. You’ve tainted it.”

“I perfected it.” Ra’s said quietly. Stupidly.

Phantom hovered over Damian’s grandfather, a wicked, small smile curving up one side of his face.

“And now they’re gone. Have fun picking out a casket.” Phantom chuckled darkly.

Ra’s had gone deathly still, not daring to attack a being so powerful that could apparently wipe out the Lazarus Pits without even being present to do it. 

The vehemence was utterly gone when Phantom turned and floated over to Damian. “Ready to go?” He held out a hand.

Damian’s muddled, dumbfounded attention was on Phantom’s opposite hand casually trailing downwards and ripping open a green, swirling portal. The colour was similar to the pits. But. . .purer. Like Phantom’s eyes.

Damian looked into them and the king seemed to take that as answer enough. He gave a toothy grin and pulled Damian through.

[saintjudasi]

i like to think kakashi had him meet the ninken during his training

[evilkitten3]

naruto crack au where kakashi manages to successfully drill the "never abandon your comrades" thing into team seven's heads

so when sasuke deserts naruto and sakura immediately desert with him. like he gets to the village gates and they're just waiting for him bags packed like "what took u so long we doing this or what"

he tries to get them to go back bc of course he does. "no you losers this is about me i'm going to kill my brother. also i'll have to kill my best friend for the super sharingan and you two are like the only people i talk to". but they do not listen. teamwork sasuke we will defeat your brother (OUR brother #communism) with the power of teamwork. just like kakashi-sensei said

suddenly orochimaru has to deal with three horrible little goblins with an even more codependent relationship than his old team

[huldrabitch]

Ok I'm drinking and it's late, but imagine in DA4 Dorian has been introduced to Rook as this scary powerful magister by whoever. Then later Varric "pulls some strings" for Rook (he just sends a fucking letter he wants to sound cool) to have the magister meet with Rook because we need him to figure out something either with magic and his research, resources, or politically pulling string for us to be able to do something.

And then we finally find him and it's been a mess to get to the meeting point because it's by the border of tevinter because we have our team and Taash can't just valts in and it's just-

(Tiny artistic rendition bc I can't explain rn) You know?

[gay-and-bitter]

Posting this commission @slightly-depressed-sloth did for me because I need everyone to look at it

The edgiest of my truly vast collection of tiefling warlock D&D characters, fiend patron and pact of the blade (and chain too in the new rules, his imp familiar is in raven form in the piece)

[spidersins]

ok but...angel in verse 7 was/is a cocky little shit ( aka telling @hazbinned's alastor that summoning him by saying the words 'deer daddy' made the most sense because no one would know who he was talking about until he was too late && he's taking on the sterotypical protective father role )

angel then being in the hotel and using the nickname to get alastor's attention & giving husk, vaggie and everyone else a fucking heart attack because alastor responds like its his name??

gimme.

bonus points vox overhears it out and about while he's stalking alastor and causes a power outage

[okapi-jones]

😈 what is dark within me, illumine 😈

🔥RELAUNCHED FIC ALERT🔥

what is dark within me, illumine

A #Reylo divine rom-comedy.

OR: funny until it’s emotionally devastating (feels on brand)

🜘 Demon-Summoning Modern AU 🜛 Also an Office / Historical AU (yes, really. you’ll see.) 🜁 Multi-chapter / Long Fic WIP 🜂 Demon Ben with a mysterious past 🜃 Disillusioned human tech-worker Rey 🜄 Forced Proximity 🜘 Failed Soul Contracts 🜁 Bibliomancy 🜂 Humor and Romance and Angst and Fluff 🜃 Fish Out of Water / Man Out of Time 🜄 Existential Crises 🜁 Weird forays into surrealist imagery 🜂 Literary references. SO MANY LITERARY REFERENCES 🜾 Eventual Smut 🜡 Eventual HEA (Always. Promise. 🤍)

Art by the incredible @cndcrd!

———🜘———

I finally did it! After 9 months of hiatus, WE’RE BACK with demon!Ben and grumpy!Rey.

All six existing chapters on AO3 have been completely revised - and I’ve just posted the seventh, my first update since October.

I expect I’ll be working on this one for the rest of the year, if not longer. She’s CHONKY. She’s THICC. She’s going places I don’t think most people will expect. And I’m so excited to be working on her again.

I sincerely hope you’ll join me and keep me company along the way.

Revised summary below!

———🜘———

Five years after Rey graduated from college, she’s living the millennial dream: stressed, depressed, in debt, and working for a soulless social media tech giant. When she finally decides to throw away her dreams for good, a treasure from her past accidentally summons something she never expected: a monstrous demon straight from Hell.

A demon who might just be her salvation.

———🜘———

A Reylo divine rom-comedy, a.k.a: the modern/demon/office/literary/historical AU slow burn epic mishmash fic of my dreams - with a twist.

Come for the genre-bending and humor, stay for the philosophizing, non-standard demon lore, and eventual [ready-or-knot] monsterfucking. I don’t know, I don’t make the rules of demon anatomy.

(Except when I do.)

Read it here on AO3!

[haleingstorm]

So in What We Lost in The Fire(which side note I need to figure out a shorter name for) Shikamaru is basically an member of team 7 at this point. (He thought they were joking. They were not.)

But the question I'm sure you are all dying to ask is why? What changed from canon to this? The answer is both very simple and incredibly complicated. Asuma dies. And Shikamaru avenges him. But he wasn't strong enough to save him in the first place. In one world he goes to his father and throws himself into clan techniques. In another he mourns Asuma but does nothing. In this one he goes to the strongest person he knows and begs for help.

Kakashi really doesn't think he should be a teacher to anybody considering his latest round of fuck ups(looking at you Sasuke) but he reluctantly agrees. And Shikamaru throws himself into training like nobody has ever seen him do before.

And then. And then Pein attacks and it was all for nothing. Shikamaru uses all the jutsu and chakra tricks and nothing works. The village still falls Kakashi dies. And he was useless

So he goes back to Kakashi and practically begs for help. Kakashi thinks for a second and then is like hmmm. There is this scroll.... I'm pretty sure it's a summoning contract. For wolves. I could get you hooked up...

[phlebaswrites]

A Village of Family

Summary:

Izuna didn't have the most traditional upbringing.

(His children don't have one either.)

Rating: Teen And Up Fandom: Naruto Relationship: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Izuna, Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito Word Count: 1,539 (Complete)

Entry for @tbrmweek

Day 4 - February 16: Unhealed | Moon | Contract

This story is for @dominaaurum, @kurakura0-0, @dawen, @greencuttingmat, @lazuliofheaven and all the other weasel loving members of my discord server who encouraged me to write more of this series.

Izuna, petting a young weasel: Yes, I know you caught it! But you can't keep everything you kill!

Weasel, confused: But why?

Izuna, pointing at the dead rabbit: Well, it will rot before you can eat it. You don't want to eat food that will make you sick, right?

Weasel, downcast: No…

Izuna, hugging it comfortingly: So that's why you don't kill more than you can eat.

Tobirama, producing a storage scroll: Or at least more than you can safely store.

All the weasels, immediately surrounding Tobirama: More?!

Izuna, pinching the bridge of his nose: Tobirama… I was trying to teach them something! You can't just enable them!

Tobirama, looking up from packing rabbits into the scroll: It will run out of space eventually, so they'll learn it then anyway. Besides, it's my job as your alpha to enable you and your summons.

Izuna, laughing: … you are so lucky I like the way you smell!

Tobirama, kissing him on the cheek: Very lucky indeed.

Read the rest on AO3.

[lem-argentum]

it took me until dt to change rudy's hairstyle, but i ACTUALLY think he would've cut it back in post-stb when he became a reaper. the trope of "character cuts hair to feel more in control of their life" is cliché but REAL. and also the visual of him cutting it with his scythe is fun

[solosart]

Yvenrose, a prince who accidently summoned a demon and then accidently married said demon. Whoops!

[arg0t]

i love the fall because it makes all the whimsical spooky stuff i want to do not only acceptable but right and proper.

[sabraeal]

Brewed With Intent, Part 1

[Read on AO3]

Sequel to Practical Charms

It’s been three days since Shirayuki sat across from the boys on the 49, accordion seats contracting around every corner, and glowered a confession out of them. Three days since her unwitting participation in this ridiculous underground love potion scam was revealed, not only to her but to the most talented artificer in the city. And three days since Garrack has gone to ground, abandoning her shop-- and answering her texts, or phone calls-- to do city knows what. Probably wouldn’t even come to the front door either, if Obi even let her try.

Ah, now now, Miss. It’s impossible to make herself look straight at him, but she tried in that moment, only catching a glimpse of a grin. I think that might be, er, unrelated. Give it a couple days.

So she does. Three whole days of it, imagining every possible permutation of this discussion, breaking each argument down to its diction so that every word conveys the depth of her disappointment, and yet--

Yet, it could be going better.

“We went over this before you even brewed the first batch.” Garrack stretches her legs out under the table, sending her own scurrying back beneath her chair to make room. “The only active charm in the whole bottle is a perfectly legal infusion of Come-Hither. Everything else was just to fix the aftertaste.”

“I understand that.” What she doesn’t understand is how this whole conversation keeps slipping from her grip when she is the one who was wronged to begin with. “But rosehips are an amplifier of intent and a strengthener of will, which makes--”

“The whole shebang stronger, I know.” The frizzy mass of Garrack’s hair shakes with her head, like a wind rippling through autumn trees. “The whole point was to counteract the loss of potency from infusing rather than casting. At least, that was your explanation when you came up with it.”

“W-well, yes.” It’s not fair that all her pointed turns of phrase are being turned back on her, but there’s no way to say that without having to admit she’s losing ground. “But that was for a specific client, made to order.”

The girl had blown through the door soaked to the bone, umbrella turned so far inside out it looked like a crab on its back, and, well, if anyone in the shop was going to be sympathetic to the plight of a young woman with a distracted boyfriend, it was going to be Shirayuki. Especially that day.

“There’s a difference between making something like that for a person I can trust to use it on another consenting adult--” even if he was a bit preoccupied at the time ���--and just...selling it to whoever walks into the shop!”

Garrack presses a hand to her sweater, fabric shifting to bare a shoulder speckled with thumbprint-sized bruises. “Now, I don’t think that’s quite fair. I’m sure plenty of those girls were also in established, consenting relationships.”

“Better be,” Obi snorts, sprawled across the sill like he’s the neighborhood cat. There’s too much of him for it to be comfortable; one leg dangles out the window to make room for the other to brace. On anyone else it would look unnatural, but on him-- well, it’s hard to look bad in black leather and dark denim. At least the way he wears it. “Don’t think any of them were looking to spend a whole Benjamin on a nice bottle.”

Shirayuki’s jaw hangs so low it might well catch flies. “You charged them a hundred dollars? For a Come Hither?”

“Oh, what are they going to do? Report me to the Better Business Bureau?” Garrack huffs, hiking her sweater over her shoulders. The little bruises dip beneath the line of her collar, tracing down past where Shirayuki thinks it’s polite to speculate. “Bought love potion from this vendor but turned out there was just tea inside. Extremely sane sounding. I’m sure they’ll follow up on that one right away.”

“The Emerald Lady might!”

It’s the sort of threat that would have had a whole room catch its breath where she came from; an audit from the Rose Court might well mean the end of a business at best, and at worse-- well, she’d lived it. But here, in Garrack’s cozy little holdout against the mundane, no one even bats an eyelash.

No, instead Garrack snorts, tossing her head like the world’s most stubborn pony. “Haki Arleon comes from a long line of charlatans and scoundrels. Her great grandfather is still cheating half-penny hacks out of their life savings, and he’s dead.”

She doesn’t so much see Obi’s mouth twitch as feel it. “Maybe it’ll keep this time.”

“Never does,” Garrack mutters. “Anyway, the City Mistress has a lot more pressing problems than pinning our ass to the cork board over some mundies spending their pocket money.”

The last time she checked, a hundred dollars was closer to her life savings than pocket money, but Shirayuki knows better than to haggle over dollar signs with someone who can still pay property taxes in Belltown. “Altogether the material components hardly cost twenty dollars. Why would you even think to--?”

“Labor.” Long fingers wrap around the handle of Garrack’s mug, thumb resting right over a honeybee as she takes a long drag from her cup. “Expertise. Time is money, Shirayuki, and the knowledge you gained during it makes it all the more dear. Charge just for components and you’re not even breaking even. Especially not with a talent like yours.”

It’s terrible how her cheeks heat, how even as she tries to tamp down on her satisfaction it just keeps crawling under the door, sending its little tendrils licking up her neck. “That’s four hundred percent profit, isn’t it? On a potion that won’t even work--”

“So you admit it.” Her eyebrows twitch up in victory. “It won’t work. So there’s no danger in selling it.”

“That’s not--” she should have known better than to get into this with Garrack; not even Obi tries to bargain with her, not after the first time “--there’s still a chance, if the recipient is inclined toward the, er, caster--”

“Exactly.” A smirk unfurls across her face the way red carpets do for royalty. “Both parties have to consent.”

Her fingers curl so tight the bones ache. “Attraction is hardly the same thing as consent.”

Garrack waves a hand, as if simple denial could dispel the dire moral implications of her actions the way she could a charm. “There’s no harm in giving a little push now and then.”

“A push.” The word leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

“And that’s assuming any of it worked in the first place,” she sighs airily. “Which I doubt. What’s more likely is that a bunch of silly little girls wasted some of daddy’s money finding out the hard way that the school quarterback is into blondes or whatever.”

“Not so sure about that one, Chief.” Obi splits each word like a typewriter hits a period. “Sold too much not to have at least a few happy endings.”

Garrack shifts again, sweater slumping with her, and it’s not until she mutters, “In more ways that one,” that Shirayuki realizes those dark marks aren’t bruises, but-- but--

Bites. Bites because Shidan--

“In any case,” she sighs, “all’s well that ends well. Either they got what they wanted or they walked away disappointed, but either way, it was all legally above board.”

Shirayuki frowns. “That’s a very generous interpretation.”

“What can I say?” She shrugs, a cluster of those little love bites trailing down her collar bone, and ahh, Shirayuki could have survived not knowing how personally effective it had been for her boss. “I’m a generous person.”

Anyone else might actually provide an excuse to be excused, but Garrack simply unfurls herself just a hair shy of six feet and stalks from the room with the same level of satisfaction of a cat sashaying away from an empty birdcage. There’s nothing for it but to stare after her, wondering just how it all went wrong.

Obi cocks his head, threading himself through the sill. “All right there, Miss?”

“Yes. No.” She sighs, letting her palms relax against the tabletop. “I just...I really thought that would go better. Or...anywhere, I guess.”

The scent of sulfur snakes its way through the air; she’s so used to it now it’s almost comfortable. “That’s the problem with old goats like the Chief. They’ve been at it so long the goal posts change.”

She shakes her head, catching a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye. Even that much sends her eyes skittering across the table, looking for something more knowable. “That’s not really how morals are supposed to work, Obi.”

He blinks the way human eyes don’t. Too many eyelids, for one. “Maybe.”

Shirayuki collapses onto the window seat the way so many of her potions do in the last leg of their boil: with a sigh and a tangibly foul taste in her mouth. “I get that some people might want for something to happen, or even hope it would, all out of their control, but...just because you do, doesn’t mean you’re ready for it to happen now. For her to act like all’s well that ends well...”

Obi slips from the sill to the seat, long legs stretching across the floorboards. “Doesn’t quite jive with your experience, huh?”

Even at the other end of the cushion, his heat rolls over her; not the way an open fire does, so hot that you never forget it can burn, but more like a wood-burning stove, gently radiating warmth in a way that tempts her to scoot closer. “Yeah, something like that.”

A corner of his mouth twitches; if only she could look long enough to see if it was a smirk or a smile. “It’s heavy burden to be so cute when you’re unconscious.”

“If it just happened once, I could understand!” she huffs, crossing her arms. “But twice is just weird.”

“And different guys too,” he says, like she could somehow forget. “Guess you’re just that irresistible.”

“Don’t start.” He’s lucky mortal eyes can’t bear his aura, otherwise she’d give him such a glare. “I’m half convinced it’s a spell. Raj I can understand, but Zen is an entirely reasonable person, and still he--”

The thump is so quick, so sudden, that’s she’s on her feet before her words stop, heart pounding so loud she can’t hear Obi until he repeats, louder and slower, “You alright, Miss?”

He’s half out of his seat too, body twisted to put himself between her and the window, but--

The tension huffs from him on a sigh. “Ah.”

“O-obi?” She takes one shuffling step forward, reaching out but not quite daring to touch as she peers around him, into his cupped hands. “Oh!”

There’s a pigeon in his hands-- or a dove, maybe; she’d never quite known the difference besides color-- its wings flopping limply over his fingers, head hanging at an unnatural angle. Broken, she’d guess, probably from colliding with the window.

Her fingers bury themselves into fists. The last thing she needs is her magic to go wild with sympathy. “The poor thing. It must have just missed the opening...”

Obi shakes his head. “It’s cold.”

“Cold?” She leans closer, frowning. “But it only just--?”

Its whole body shivers, and with a blink of its glassy eyes, its neck swivels. “Shirayuki?”

She doesn’t scream, but whatever strangled noise escapes from her isn’t much better. “Is that...?”

“Suzu says this should work.” Yuzuri’s voice pours from its beak, as clear as if they were face to face. “Even though it’s weird. Anyway, Shidan’s finished your order. You should swing by and get it. It looks pretty dope or fly or whatever word Obi’s using for cool today.”

“Huh.” Obi lifts the thing, poking and prodding at its feather like the charm might pop out if he tries hard enough. “That’s sick.”

“It’s...something,” she agrees, willing her stomach not to turn. “Not what I--”

“End message!” the bird shrills. “Is that how you finish this thing off? Suzu--?”

It’s a clean cut that severs the sound from its beak. The body falls limp again, as if it had never moved.

“You don’t think...?” Shirayuki peers down at the grotesque display cradled in his palm, desperately trying not to think too hard about...any of it. “They didn’t...?”

“Ah, don’t worry, Miss.” Only Obi could sound positively jaunty in the face of questionably legal-- let alone moral-- magicks. “Pretty sure it was already dead.”

It’s a strange mental exercise, trying to decide whether reanimation is better than body borrowing, but she’s saved from having to think any further by Garrack sweeping in, Ryuu following resignedly in her wake. “Oh, is that one of Shidan’s creepy little messengers? I don’t think I’ll ever get used to them” 

Shirayuki blinks, trying to sweep frizzy blonde from her vision. “Oh, is he, ah, known for this?”

“No.” Garrack rocks back on her heels. “At least, not until recently. But one of his students has a talent for them, and it saves him having to dig in his pockets to put a charm on a dime or something.”

“On a dime?” She can see it now, Roosevelt’s profile turning to face her, serious as he says, the time is now. “Did it...talk?”

“I wish,” she huffs. “It would just glow, and do you know how easy it is to lose those things? Half the time I’d just go swing by myself just so I didn’t have to keep track of it. And he tells me that I need to learn responsibility and--”

“Couldn’t he just...text?” Shirayuki suggests, strained. “Or, er, call, I guess?”

Garrack frowns. “Where’s the drama in that?”

“Is this for the glamour?” Ryuu asks, pitched just loud enough to hear. “That’s...”

“Good?” Shirayuki supplies, when he doesn’t.

He nods. “Quick. I would have expected a week, at least. A month even, for his advanced charms.”

Obi’s brows hike toward his hairline. “It’s only been three days.”

Garrack grins, insufferable. “You’re welcome.”

It’s not until Shirayuki tugs her jacket off the hook, pulling the denim taut across her shoulders, that she dares to ask, “You don’t really think that, er...?”

Obi doesn’t answer so much as look attentive, all of his baleful gaze bent on her.

“It’s just...I know he’s the best artificer in the city.” She tugs the jacket tight over her chest, more from nerves than chill. “But not everyone wants to make the hike up to Capitol Hill and have to deal with, ah, mundanes. So surely...?”

He hums, a token display of support.

“He was probably already working on it.” She glances at him, as much as she can bear. “So it’s probably not that she...I mean, you don’t really think...?”

“Oh!” A wide flash of white hints at a grin. “That Garrack fucked us up the list? Absolutely.”

“Ahhh!” She claps her hands to her face. “You don’t have to say it that way. Maybe--?”

“Oh, my my. Is my favorite apprentice and her hellish escort on their way out?” Garrack turns the corner, a smile flanked by two ceramic cups. “Going to go reap the fruits of my labor?”

It’s no use, Shirayuki slumps. “Please don’t call it that.”

Her mouth sharps to a smirk. “A spade’s a spade, sweetheart.”

“Well, we’re not just doing that.” She infuses her tone with a sharp edge of officiousness, as if that might go some way in reminding anyone in this front hall that this is all supposed to be business, not-- not--

“Miss is gonna take us on our rounds too.” Shirayuki may not be able to bear his unholy aura long enough to see his expression, but she knows it must be a jaunty one from the way he kicks one leg over another and leans. “Put Shidan’s work through its paces, you know how it is.”

Garrack’s thick brows twitch, too suggestive for what amounts to a work meeting. “Mm, don’t I.”

Shirayuki fails stifle her sigh.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Garrack clucks, and if she’s the one disappointed with the turn of this conversation. “Here, I know things got a little heated today. Have an olive branch.”

Shirayuki stares as the cup fits into her grip, Garrack giving her knuckles a small pat for good measure. The smell of something sweet and floral wafts up from the lid’s vent. “You made...tea?”

“Hey!” she huffs. “I know how to boil water!”

Obi snorts. “Experience says different.”

Garrack may fold her arms over her chest, may tilt her chin, all high-handed and cool, it only takes a single quirked brow for her to admit, “At least the electric kettle does.”

“Ah,” Obi sighs, flipping open the lid. “There it is.”

“All right, all right, if you’re quite done, why don’t you two head out already.” She watches him take sip, mouth curling. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, she catches the twitch of Obi’s eyebrows. “That’s a short list.”

It’s with a strange satisfaction that Garrack says, “It sure is.”

The door closes behind them, close enough that the displaced air shoots up her jacket, sending her shivering.

“Huh.” Obi takes another sip. “Well, that’s ominous.”