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feel199x · 5 years

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✲ミ☁ awaken, my love! ☁ミ✲

god/demi-god!seo changbin, hades!changbin

minho’s god au felix’s god au

masterlist

a/n: finally. a fic where i dont clown changbin.

☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆ ☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆ ☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆

You knew it wasn’t a normal hobby, but it was an important one. On days you weren’t particularly busy, or whenever you had the free time, you walked around cemeteries. You don’t know when this ability had nested itself in your body, or why for that matter, but you weren’t upset about it. Whenever you could, you’d wander cemeteries, looking for graves that had no mementos in them. You avoided the ones that gave you an uneasy feeling, but for the ones that gave completely benevolent vibes, you grew flowers around them. You could grow any type of flower, but the spirit generally had a preference on what they wanted left on the only memory of them that remained in the mortal world. Sometimes though, you would get the occasional spirit that was just happy to feel like they were remembered again, and you would leave a variety of flora- their small personal garden around their tombstones. You never necessarily believed in the occult, or the divine. But at this point in time, you didn’t have a choice. You knew there was something after death, even though you weren’t completely sure what it was.

Today was no different, in terms of routine, but the cemetery you were at was completely unfamiliar to you. As soon as you arrived, you’d already had a dangerous run-in with a spirit that wasn’t too happy with you trying to grow flora around his grave. The general threat of possession and cursing wasn’t exactly new to you, but it was still pretty stressful, especially when all you wanted to do was help them a bit. And after a couple more less than smooth encounters with unruly and downright mischievous spirits, you were surprised, though very happy to see a triplet of dogs come your way. You sat as they grouped around you, all very eager to receive your petting. You checked one of the german shepherd's collar and was surprised to read Cerebus. Actually, all of their dog tags read ‘Cerebus.’ The name sounded familiar, like distant bells ringing, there on your tongue but not quite. It bothered you, it was uncanny. But after receiving a satisfactory amount of petting, they tugged lightly at your shirt, beckoning you to follow them.

The mausoleum they had lead you to, was oozing black smoke from the cracks of the door. And never, never had you felt so compelled, so urged to enter a crypt. One of the shepherds nudged you with his nose, snapping you back to the reality of things as you moved closer and closer to the mausoleum’s opening. But you weren’t scared, you felt a sense of comfort as you pushed the door open. You overestimated the amount of effort needed to open the door, and before you knew it, you were falling. Now, you were scared. Bracing for impact, instead you found yourself in a wheat field, with a river in front of you. And the triplet of dogs was now but one, with three heads clustered together upon one body. Cerberus was still cute though, even if he was a little bigger with sharper teeth. You cleaned yourself off, brushing the snapped wheat crops off of your body and getting up to observe your surroundings.

The first thing, you noted, was that it was loud. Though you couldn’t see anyone, you could feel their energy, hear them. It was a bit overwhelming at first, but it was only a bit more to manage than a large-scale cemetery. It was some sort of hell, you assumed. But it wasn’t exactly how people had described it. The second thing you noticed was the smell, it was a bittersweet type of smell. It was sulfur, most definitely, but with undertones of sweetness- something you immediately identified as flowers. The third thing you noticed, was a boat wading down the river you had fallen in front of. Cerebus nudged you again, and since you figured you had nothing better to do, you approach the canoe.

He waved to you, smiling at you as if he already knew you. Cerebus jumped into the canoe, rocking it slightly, but the elder man helped you ease your way into the boat.

“It’s been a while,” he said smiling cheerfully, “Welcome back. We didn’t know if you would ever be here again.”

You looked quizzically at him and then at Cerberus, as the dog rested his head upon your lap. He just gave you an understanding smile, continuing to row down the river. You pieced together that a lot of this seemed straight out of greek mythology. But where the ferryman, who’s name you were sure you knew but couldn’t remember, was taking you, you had no idea. You pet Cerberus, who wagged his tail happily, and looked over, observing the uncanny valley. You had made your way past the wheat fields, and suddenly it got so, so much louder. You stopped petting to cover your ears, experiencing the shock of sound like when your car’s radio is just a bit too loud when you turn the engine back on. The ferryman laughed, increasing the pace of his rowing.

“It always happens when you’re back after a while.”

Soon, the ferryman stopped rowing and Cerberus jumped backed onto land, wagging his tail happily and jumping around. The ferryman offered you his hand as you met Cerberus ack on dry land.

“Thank you..,” you paused, unsure of what to call him.

“Charon,” he offered, and then added with a wink, “Changbin’s been missing you, you’re all he ever talks about.”

You gave Charon a bewildered look as rowed off into the distance, but followed a very hyper Cerebus into the most beautiful piece of architecture you had ever seen. The outside of what you could only call a palace was beautiful. More than beautiful, breathtaking, out of this world. And the interior was even more detailed, marble statues lining the front, exquisite paintings on the wall. Cerberus grew impatient with your fascination with the interior decorating though, and r an out in front of you, and you ran after your only guide in the place.

“Oh! Cerberus, you’re back!” you heard a voice say, and as you stepped out into the open area, you saw that it belonged to a very young man. He was dressed in all black, and while you’d normally consider someone of his attitude intimidating, all of those thoughts went away as soon as you saw him interact with Cerberus.

When he noticed you though, his face lit up even more, impossibly more. “Persephone? Persephone! You’re back!”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #seo changbin #skz imagines #skz fic #skz fluff #stray kids changbin #skz changbin #changbin fluff #changbin fic #changbin imagine #changbin imagines

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dreamsofpilots · 7 years

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Miss you...

Josh Dun x Reader fic, fluff

AN: Wow, so I got a little carried away with this one. I’m sorry it’s so long, but it’s fluff and was fun to write. Enjoy.

Warnings: Mild panic, some strong language, breakup.

Received 9:55 AM

Seriously stop with this shit, or my GF is going to step in and trust me you don’t want that

My eyes were locked on my phone. I can’t believe I messaged him again. Why couldn’t I just let it go like a normal person? You break up, you move on, done, that’s it. But not me. Even though I knew I didn’t want him back or that I legitimately hated him, I still messaged him last night, only to get this reply when I woke up. Why am I like this?

With my hands shaking I went to my recent calls on my phone and pressed Josh’s name, he picked up on the second ring.

“Hey! I was just thinking about you, how’s it going?” His voice was always so cheerful, like every day was the best day ever. Normally that brought a smile to my face, but not this time.

“Josh..” was all I could get out. His tone immediately changed.

“Hey, Y/N what’s wrong? What happened, are you alright?” I wavered a moment, not sure that I could tell him. He’d be disappointed in me again.

“Talk to me hon’…” he urged.

“Josh, I,” I drew in a shaky breath. “I messaged him again…”

He sighed heavily, “Y/N why would you do that? You know he doesn’t really care about you, and he’s only going to hurt you. Besides, doesn’t he have a girlfriend now?” He asked, his tone clearly agitated. I knew this would upset him. Josh always looked out for me and never had a good feeling about my ex when we had started dating, but I had ignored him. I regretted that now.

“Yes, he does, and I don’t know Josh! I was just feeling lonely last night I guess and…” I trailed off.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Then, finally, “You know you can call me whenever you feel like that, right? Like, I’ll always be here for you.”

My heart felt like a weight in my chest, I had hurt my best friend. “Yes, I know that Josh. It’s just, I guess I wanted something else. Like you’re my best friend and what I wanted was something, well, different, I guess.”

Josh was silent again on the other end. I could hear a commotion in the background, probably the crew setting up for another show. “Y/N-”

My phone chimed, another incoming message. “Hang on a sec,” I pressed the home button and then to my messages. My ex had sent me another text.

Received 9:58 AM

And don’t get me started on why she’s a HUGE upgrade from you. I know exactly where to hit you to beak you. Sit the fuck down before shit gets real for you

I stared at my screen, my hands shaking. Why would he say something like that? He knew exactly how to break me? What kind of person would say that? And to someone they used to love?

I could hear Josh calling my name, so I put the phone back up to my ear.

“What did he say now?” he pressed. When I relayed the message to him, he blew up. I had to pull the phone away slightly so his shouting wouldn’t hurt my ear.

“Who the heck does he think he is?! You listen to me, you are a goddess. Do you hear me? He was lucky that he even got the time with you that he did. You’re funny, smart, talented, and drop dead gorgeous. There is no way his troll of a girlfriend is an upgrade from you. He makes me so mad! I could cuss right now!”

I suppressed a small smile at his last comment. It would take a lot for Josh to cuss. He would feel like he was letting down his mom if he ever did, so he avoided it as much as possible. Tyler too.

“Look, we’re about to do sound check and Tyler is waiting for me, so I will call you after. But this is what I want you to do, first, block his number. I mean it. Block him from everything, facebook, snapchat, all of it. Throw out all the crap he gave you. I don’t want you to have any of it laying around anymore. You’ll feel better when you do, trust me. Then, go take a bath or something, make yourself your favorite drink, and just relax. I’ll call you soon okay?”

“Okay, Josh. Thank you. I miss you”

I could almost hear Josh’s smile. “I miss you too. Now go, I’ll call you soon.”

I did what I was told and blocked my ex from all social media, even email. Then I gathered all the mementos, the hoodie, the cute mug, the necklace, everything I could find that reminded me of him, and I scooped them up in my arms and marched outside.

Luckily for me, my dad was already outside starting a fire. Since it was now fall, we had a fire almost every night, dad was getting a head start and burning some garbage.

“Hey dad,” I acknowledge him as I stomped by with my arms full. His puzzled eyes followed me, “Hey pumpkin.”

I dumped all the garbage right into the fire unceremoniously, and watched the flames overtake everything. My dad stood beside me and patted my back with what I assumed was understanding. After a few more minutes of watching the fire, I took a deep breath, and let everything go.

I stayed in the bath for quite a while, afterwards. I let the negativity wash away from my body, and watched as my fingers pruned up. When I felt more refreshed, I finally stepped out and wrapped myself in the fluffy white towel my mom and left for me, fresh from the dryer. I guess dad had told her what had happened.

My phone was ringing when I entered my room, Guns for Hands blaring as my ringtone. I rushed over to pick it up from where it sat on my bed. “Josh?” I asked breathlessly.

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I want to see you, you know, to make sure you’re okay. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone right now.”

Confusion tugged at my brow, “But how? You’re on tour and I have work. Josh, honestly, don’t worry about it, I’m okay.”

Josh was silent again, I could tell he was trying to think it through, but he really didn’t need to worry. His advice had already helped me quite a bit. “Are you sure? Because we have a day off tomorrow. I could-”

“Josh.”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe. I’m okay. I don’t want you to stress about me. You have the show to focus on, and Tyler needs your head to be in it, not on me. I promise I’m okay.”

He sighed heavily, “Are you sure?”

I couldn’t help but giggle, he was being so sweet. “Yes, I’m sure. Besides, there’s only like a month left of the tour anyway. We can hang out when you get back, just like we used to before- well, before he came along.”

“I’d like that.” I could almost hear his smile through the phone again. “Okay, if you’re sure you’re alright, I’ll call you tomorrow. But you can text me if you need anything, okay?”

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful after I hung up with Josh. I spent some time with my parents, cooked dinner, watched netfilx, and I was fine.

I was fine…

But then it was 3 AM, and I still hadn’t slept. My mind wouldn’t shut off. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about what a fool I was. I had wasted so much time on this guy and had nothing to show for it, nothing besides a broken heart, anyway.

As these thoughts flooded my mind, my breaths became shallow and rapid, and my skin clammed up. I couldn’t get enough air and I felt sick to my stomach. It was when the tears came that I decided I needed to talk to Josh.

Instead of answering right away like he normally did, I got his voicemail. It was pretty late so he could be sleeping, but I didn’t think it was likely. Josh was normally on a high after a show, and stayed up late exploring or hanging out with his friends. Him not answering at this time wasn’t really like him.

I started to worry, what if something happened to him? My mind filled with images of him being hurt and my panic only grew. I couldn’t handle this, there was just too much stress today, I needed to calm down. I just didn’t think that I could without Josh.

Josh was always there for me. He made me laugh, he protected me when I got picked on, he always surprised me with little gifts or my favorite foods. It never bothered him when I called late at night when my troubles got to me. He would talk me in his soothing voice and I would be able to relax right away.

Ever since we became friends we were almost inseparable. I always wanted to hear about his day and he always wanted to know about mine. We supported each other. I was so proud of the success that he was able to achieve, but I missed him all the time. He was my best friend, the only person I could always count on, and I-

Oh.

How could I have been so stupid? This whole time I was wasting my affection on someone who didn’t deserve it when Josh was-

I hurriedly called his number again, desperately wishing that he would pick up.

“Come on, come on, come on.” I pleaded, listening to the ringing continue.

“Y/N! Sorry I missed your call, I’m actually-”

“Josh, wait. I need to tell you something.”

He chuckled, “Well that sounds ominous.” A pause, then this time with more concern, “Wait, what did he say now? I thought you blocked him”

“No. I mean, yes, I did. No, this is about something else.”

“Y/N you’re scaring me. Are you alright? Did you have another panic attack?”

I was starting to get frustrated. “Josh, just listen for a moment!”

“Okay…” he sounded hurt. I guess my tone was too harsh, but now that I realized, I needed to get it out.

“Josh, I-” But what if he didn’t reciprocate? He’s such a nice guy, there’s a high chance that he never thought of me that way. I wasn’t that special, I was probably only a friend to him in his eyes. Could I risk destroying what we have?

A rustling on his end pulled me from my thoughts. What was he doing? A sudden tapping sound on my bedroom window nearly made me jump from my skin. I turned to look at it with a gasp, dropping my phone from my clammy hand.

Josh was there, at my window. But how? He was supposed to be a few states away, the show would have ended only four hours ago. How did he?

I leapt from my bed, rushing to the window to let the yellow haired boy in. As soon as his feet were planted on my floor, he crushed me to his chest in a hug. The smell of his cologne, sweat, and something like the smell of an airplane washed over me. My heart skipped and danced in my chest at his proximity, and I wasn’t sure If I was warm because of his body heat, or just how he suddenly made me feel, being so close.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t feel right about the situation. When we hung up I booked a flight and left right after the show. I figured we could spend the day together tomorrow, and forget about that dipcrap.” He lifted his cheek from where it was resting on top of my head to look down at me. “Is that okay?”

I felt as if I could melt, or fly, or cry, sing, dance, laugh. There were too many emotions swirling around in my stomach, and my mind felt as if I were in a fog. I couldn’t believe he was here. That he would rush here just to make sure that I was okay. That had to mean something right? Would just a friend do something like that?

“Yeah, that’s absolutely okay, thank you. I can’t believe you’re here.”

Josh smiled, causing his eyes to squint and his perfect teeth to flash. My stomach did a somersault. “What did you want to tell me?” he asked.

I pulled him over to my bed so that he could sit, and I began pacing in front of him, not sure how to put what I’d realized into words.

“Y/N?” I stopped pacing and locked eyes with Josh. I was surprised to see him blushing and fidgeting where he sat. When I didn’t say anything, he continued. “Before you say anything, there’s been something I’ve wanted to tell you too. I’ve felt it for a long time, but then you were with him, and I wanted to give you time to heal, but then I guess I just chickened out really and, well, I just-”

“Josh.”

His eyes locked onto mine again, and I could see it. I saw our shared feelings reflected back at each other. I had been blind to it, and he had probably gone through so much pain because of it. I didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

So I kissed him.

He jumped in surprise at first, then relaxed into the kiss, bringing his hand up to cup my cheek. He tasted like coffee and mint. Feeling brazen, I crawled into his lap to deepen the kiss. I just needed to be closer. I pushed his hat off his head to thread my fingers though his silky hair. This is what a kiss was supposed to feel like, like fire and passion, and comfort all rolled into one. It never felt like this with my ex. I trusted Josh in a way that I’ve never trusted anyone else.

Josh’s tongue flicked against my bottom lip, pleading with me. I complied and a little moan escaped him. I echoed with my own, my cheeks flushing and dizziness overtaking me. When we finally broke away for air, I rested my forehead against his.

“That’s all I wanted to tell you,” I said after a few gulps of air.

Josh laughed, his voice thick from what just happened, his warm breath mingling with mine in between our shared space. “Funny, I’ve been wanting to say the same thing. It’s like you took the words right from my mouth.”

That brought a laugh out of me. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize, but I’m willing to see where this goes if you are.”

Josh gave me a sweet peck on the nose, “I would be delighted.”

After a few more stolen kisses and warm embraces, it was time to kick Josh out. He couldn’t stay here with my parents so close by, but now that we knew how the other felt, we had all the time in the world to enjoy it.

As Josh started to climb from my window, he paused to look up at me with those beautiful eyes. “Can I take you on a date tomorrow?”

I pecked him on the lips and smiled, “I would be honored.”

#josh dun #Joshua dun #josh dun x reader #topfic #twenty one pilots #twenty øne piløts #fem reader #jishwa #jish #clique #fluff #josh dun imagine

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ghostingnovel · 7 years

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Chapter Two

“Daddy, do you know what I’m thinking?”

Sammi had escaped her thirteenth birthday party and sat behind her house, clutching a birthday candle she’d stolen from her cake. The candle flickered, annoyed.

Of course I can. I live in your mind.

“Okay, what am I thinking then?”

The candle sighed – a very peculiar thing for a candle to do – before replying, You’re very happy that your father is able to be here for your birthday party.

“And? What else am I thinking?”

… And you love your father, very much. Even though I am dead.

Sammi smiled, holding the candle tightly – before suddenly dropping it, startled by the hot wax dripping onto her finger. She let out an anguished cry as the candle extinguished on the ground. She hurriedly picked the candle back up, trying to wipe dirt from the hot, sticky wax, even if it burned a little.

“Dad? I’m so, so sorry,” she frantically apologized, “Are you alright?”

Of course I’m alright, Samantha. My essence isn’t contained in a silly candle. Now, get back to your party, the voice responded. After a moment, it added, But Samantha?

“Yeah, dad?”

I love you too. Happy birthday.

It didn’t matter that Sammi lived directly above her uncle’s bar; she still managed to be late to work.

“Hey Samantha, I could use a hand down here you know,” Uncle Sam’s voice called up to her, followed by the muffled voices of patrons that were already strolling in at ten AM. Sammi quickly swished her mouthwash, spat, and shouted back.

“Be down in a minute. Do you know where my hair dryer is?”

“Check your brother’s room. You have five minutes.”

Sammi cursed, stubbed her toe on her way to her brother’s room, cursed again, and immediately found her hair dryer on her brother’s nightstand. Finding it wasn’t hard, as her brother’s room was neatly organized and the bright blue hair dryer was the only thing that didn’t match. Her brother's room was as neat and well put-together as her brother was as a person. He had even found time to make his bed before he left this morning.

Sammi scowled at her comparative inferiority and returned to the bathroom to dry her hair.

By all accounts, despite being almost twenty-six, Sammi didn’t look like someone who should be working at a bar. Everyone assumed that the accident her father died in had somehow stunted her growth, but whatever the cause, it had left Sammi at just a hair over five feet, with facial features that made most people ask where she went to high school. It didn’t help that her ghost problem had left her chronically pale and chronically thin – not pale and thin in the pretty way, but more "The Fault in Our Stars". Polite people called her "petite" and "youthful", but she heard the words “waifish” and “sickly” thrown around enough that she knew better. Once her hair was dry she padded on some blush with a fat makeup brush, but it didn’t do much to help her complexion.

Besides giving off the impression that she might snap in half if the wind blew a little too hard, Sammi had two features that were noticeable: Her hair and her eyes. Her hair was noticeable by choice, dyed a shade of pastel pink that she’d been sporting since her mother had been alive. She kept it pink because her mother used to dye it this color while Sammi was still in elementary school, and after her mother’s death Sammi continued to wear the pink as a memento. Sammi's natural hair color was probably some shade of blonde similar to her brother’s, but she couldn’t remember it at this point.

Her second prominent feature, and the feature she hated the most, were her eyes. One iris was a normal, albeit sharp, shade of icy blue that she shared with her uncle; the other was black. Not black as in "a dark shade of brown" black, but black as in "doesn't reflect light" black and "there is no visible distinction between the iris and the pupil" black. She used to have two blue eyes. She also used to be able to turn off her powers. The black eye, and the powers that never turned off, and the dozens of short, pale scars on her hands and arms, were the parting gifts of the fire.

In any case, her mismatched eyes made people very unlikely to maintain eye contact with her for very long. Even her uncle and brother would usually look away rather quickly. Only the Reaper Diana didn’t seem perturbed by her eyes, which was one of the many reasons that Sammi liked her so much. A family friend had gifted Sammi with a medical eye patch to help Sammi get through school without being bullied too badly, but it itched and destroyed Sammi's depth perception, so she hadn't worn it much recently.

“Samantha Eliana Gwendolyn Parish, if you’re not down here in sixty seconds, I’m docking your pay,” her uncle’s voice called up the stairs again, louder this time.

"That's only a threat if you start paying me," Sammi shouted back. Still, she didn't like being late. She tossed her mostly dry hair into a pastel bun on top of her head, rushed to her room for a moment to put on a stray t-shirt from the floor, and sprinted down the stairs.

“Oh, look who finally joined us,” Uncle Sam greeted. “However," he added, pointing down at her feet, "You’re still wearing your slippers.”

Dammit.

By noon the little pub was already half full, the nocturnal types getting their drinks in before going home to sleep the afternoon away. This was commonplace. After all, there were few places in the city limits that serviced non-humans. At midday the bar was filled with vampires, ghouls, and all sorts of magical folk who worked night jobs nearby. They passed Sammi as they entered: She was out front, reattaching the welcome sign that had been knocked out of place by a very tall and probably drunk patron.

Probably a giant, Sammi guessed. Or a werewolf. Regardless of who or what, the sign was knocked down enough that Sammi wondered frequently and loudly why her uncle didn’t just affix the damn thing above the door like a normal shop owner, but her uncle claimed the hanging sign provided “ambiance”, whatever that meant. Sammi knew her uncle was just too cheap to buy a new sign. Still, he’d have to soon – the first S in “Schrodinger’s Beer” was about ready to fall off, and the thing hadn’t lit up properly in ages.

“Did the sign fall off again? We ought to get that thing fixed above the door.”

At the sound of the voice, Sammi put down the battered sign and the hammer she was holding and waved. She also used the opportunity to wipe flaking paint and grease off her hands with a napkin she’d snagged from inside.

“Yeah, well, tell your fellow co-owner that," Sammi sighed, "He might actually listen to you.”

Jonathan Graves, the co-owner of Schrodinger’s Beer and Uncle Sam's longest business partner, was a bear of a man, tall enough that Sammi might have suspected him of knocking down the sign if the man wasn’t so careful. Despite his hulking appearance, Graves was quietly polite, fastidiously organized, and was the main reason that the bar hadn’t gone under ages ago. Sammi’s uncle was excellent at bringing customers in, but it was Graves who really handled all the details.

Graves also had a missing eye, and a story to go with it that changed every time someone asked. Between the eye, his general aura of intimidation, and his incredible attention to detail, Sammi had a theory that he was probably ex-mafia, but she never bothered asking. Over the years she and Graves had bonded over the fact that no one could look either of them in the eye for any length of time. They even had staring contests sometimes, when the bar was less busy.

Graves made the expression of a man doing very advanced math in his mind before nodding quietly to himself. He gestured for Sammi to set the sign aside.

“Leave that for now. I think it’s about time we ordered a new one, anyway. We have the profits. Is your uncle inside?”

“Of course, Jamie too," Sammi replied, smiling wryly, "Where else do you think we’d all be on a Monday afternoon?”

Entering Schrodinger’s Bar was a lot like entering a seasonal Halloween store. You see, while Uncle Sam didn’t have magical talent himself, he enjoyed surrounding himself with it; he also was a master of satire and loved cheap, kitschy things and overused stereotypes. The bar was the embodiment of the above ideals: it had broomsticks propped against the entryway, accompanied by smiling ceramic pumpkins and plastic knee-high gravestones ; cobwebs in the corners that he claimed were fake but probably weren’t; several ugly paintings of witches, werewolves, and vampires that he found in a clearance rack at the local thrift store; and, of course, an abundance of candles - that weren’t actually candles, but rather remote controlled replicas that could be activated at the push of a button. The finishing touch was the bar’s mascot, Schrodinger, a black cat that was very large in height, fluff, and girth. He wandered between the tables freely, meowing and acting as the bar’s janitor by eating any food that fell on the floor. He was very good at his job.

Schrodinger greeted them with a yowl when they walked in, purring loudly and nearly bowling Sammi over when he collided with her legs. Sammi knelt to pet the massive feline before he trotted off again. Sammi watched as he found his way under a nearby table, where he curled up under the chair of a very large, very ugly man who was sloppily eating a burger.

Halfling, probably, Sammi guessed, sizing up the man. On his way to being a troll. To Schrodinger he was merely an excellent food source.

“Sammi!”

Sammi was almost bowled over again, from the other direction, as arms wrapped around her from behind, lifting her up in a bear hug. She laughed, struggling only half-heartedly against the attack.

“Put me down you dumbass, we’re at work,” she chided. She was quickly returned to the floor, her hair was ruffled, and the person who had grabbed her smiled apologetically.

“Sorry, I just was excited to see you.”

“You’re always excited to see everyone, Jamie. Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re just always excited in general.”

James Parish, Sammi’s younger, but significantly bigger, brother, was a constantly smiling, blonde haired, blue-eyed man who would probably be mistaken for a prince if he ever set foot in Disneyland. In his early twenties, James was too young to remember his and Sammi’s parents in any detail. He couldn’t remember their deaths, either. Sammi guessed that was why he was everything Sammi wasn’t: Happy, healthy, attractive, charismatic, and entirely non-magical.

Sammi loved her brother. She also had a tiny, jealous, bitter part of her soul that couldn't stand him, and especially hated how inferior he made her feel simply by existing. This was a part of herself that she zealously hid – but hiding it still didn’t suppress the gnawing shame.

To Sammi, the worst part was that, if she ever told James about how she felt, he’d probably just forgive her. He was that kind of person.

She gave James another hug, pushing away the unpleasant thoughts.

“So Sammi, did you get the sign out front fixed?” James asked, resting his chin on top of her head. He still had to lean over a bit to do so. Sammi shook her head a little.

“Nah. Graves said that the sign is too far gone.”

“Oh, finally? I thought we were going to be stuck with that ugly thing until this place closes down. Which I don’t see happening for quite a while.”

“Right? But Graves said we’ve made enough profits to get a better sign. I’m pretty excited to not have to fix it every week.”

“Good," Jamie said, and Sammi could hear the grin in his voice, "that means that you’ll have more time to bus tables and serve customers.”

Uncle Sam appeared behind both of them, dressed in a suit, a tie, a hideous hat, and carrying a very overfilled bin of dirty dishes. He passed this plate to Sammi, pointing to the back room where the sink resided.

“Sibling moments are good for business and all, but I’ve got two orders to fill and these to clean. Get back to work, you’re still on the clock.”

Sammi sighed, taking the bin obediently with a nod. Still, as she walked to the kitchen she quietly beckoned Schrodinger. He was thrilled to help clean the plates.

You would already be done with these dishes if you’d use your magic to clean them.

“I prefer to clean them by hand. It relaxes me.”

You promised, Samantha. Practice.

Sammi made a face, sure he could see her just fine even if she couldn't see him. If he had seen her, though, he didn't say anything - just waited patiently. He kept waiting until Sammi grudgingly relented.

"Yes, sir," she sighed, setting the plate and the sponge she was holding aside. She closed her eyes. She breathed.

Using magic was a lot like flipping a sock inside out. First, Sammi reached within to herself, mentally searching and grabbing onto a pinprick of power that she could feel lodged deep within her chest. It felt... kinetic, two magnets pushing away from each other. She grabbed the slippery thing, focusing on holding it by picturing her hand wrapping around it entirely, and pulled it outward.

The magic flipped, now pushing outside her body and attracting things outside of her, inward. Sammi could sense the dishes, the air, the water in the sink, the water pipes below her feet and running through the walls, as if each item had a magnetic charge that pulled all of them toward her chest; she could sense Schrodinger, sitting alert at her side and watching her intently with his giant eyes and quick, tiny heartbeat. She tested each of them, gauging the pressure and the weight of everything. She singled out each of the dishes, the soapy water, and the water coursing through the pipes around her. She breathed again.

Then she pulled on the water in the sink and the dishes, while simultaneously pushing back on the pipes to keep the outside water at bay.

The lights flickered. The dishes spun, getting faster, wrapped in a thin sheath of soapy water until they sparkled and shined. Sammi felt her heart pound faster, thrilled that she was able to maintain, one, then four, then eight micro-spells at once. Once they were clean Sammi began to heat the air, spinning it, using it to dry the dishes she had just cleaned.

Then Schrodinger yowled.

Her concentration collapsed. Sammi cursed, but her words were lost in the sound of crashing dinnerware shattering on the floor. She caught six of the pieces before they fell, quickly throwing out a levitation spell, but a plate and a glass met the hard tile and sent ceramic and glass scattering dangerously over the kitchen floor. Her uncle was there in an instant, quickly throwing open the kitchen door but smart enough to stop before stepping on the glass.

“Aw, hell – James, get the broom, would’ja?” Uncle Sam called, pulling the large black cat out of the wreckage. The cat yowled again. Blushing furiously and tears stinging her eyes, Sammi shook her head, gesturing to her uncle.

“No, no, it’s fine. I can clean it myself,” Sammi insisted, but her uncle waved her off.

“It’s fine, just let Jamie sweep it up. What all was broken?”

“A glass and a plate.”

“That’s not too bad. That’s replaceable and pretty cheap.”

Uncle Sam thought for a moment, but stopped to glance at Sammi, flashing a reassuring smile. It just made Sammi feel worse.

“Hey, no crying sweetheart. It’s fine, honest. Just a couple dumb dishes,” he assured, hefting the large, still agitated cat. “You hurt at all, pumpkin?”

“No.”

“Good, that’s all that matters. Now come out of there, I don’t want you getting cut on any glass.”

Sammi could feel the eyes of the patrons staring at her as she came out. She felt a sudden burst of rage, a desire to cast out a burst of force magic and send them all flying into the walls, just to get their eyes off her. But that was stupid. After all, she wasn’t angry at them. She was just angry at herself, and that she’d broken concentration because of a damn cat.

James passed her with a large broom of the non-witchy variety, flashing a broad smile before going into the kitchen.

“Hey Sammi, besides the glass, things look amazing in here! I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this clean,” he called over his shoulder.

Sammi wanted to be dead.

The disgruntled little witch sat behind the bar and made drinks for the rest of the night. After normal work hours, the place got its second rush: it filled with a pack of werewolves in construction uniforms creased with dirt, witches from various local covens dressed in business attire, fae and changelings with inhuman grace who settled down with flowery drinks and vegan dishes, some more humane vampires settling down with pigs blood and the expressions of those who just got out of bed, and countless others that drifted in and out of the bar for a respite from mundane human society. Eventually a group of Paragons, the police of the magical world, came in and settled down at a large table with glasses of beer and a couple large pizzas. James joined them immediately, pulling up a chair and quickly joining their conversation.

“That boy is still jonesing to be a Paragon one day,” Uncle Sam sighed as he picked up a couple drink orders from Sammi’s station. “That’s gotta be rough. They’ve still never let someone who was non-magical join – too dangerous.”

“Yeah, well if anyone could be the first, it’s Jamie,” Sammi shrugged.

“You ever think about joining them? You could be good at it, you know. And it’d give you a way to hang out with more magic types.”

“Me? A Paragon? Hardly. Besides, I’m too scrawny. I’d get broken in half.”

Her uncle barked out a laugh. "That's probably true."

The real reason Sammi had never become a Paragon was because it required extremely rigorous magical screening, and Sammi’s father had warned that the process would lead to him being severed and reaped. Young Sammi had desperately not wanted that to happen. Then, by the time her and her father’s relationship had deteriorated to the point she wouldn’t mind being severed from her father, Sammi was generally too sickly and too nervous about using her ectomancy to try out. She also assumed that she would be under-qualified.

Besides, most of the Paragons she knew she’d met through the investigation of her father’s death, and she didn’t like the look they gave her. It was too much like pity.

“Hey, earth to Sammi. Get out of your damn head, you’re slowing down on the drinks.”

Sammi scowled, quickly pulling up several more beers before starting to mix some bizarre mixed drink containing elderflower.

“You know, it’s funny. I always assumed that you’d end up being the Paragon or whatever,” Uncle Sam said nonchalantly, coming behind the counter to grab the drinks. “But that’s probably just my bias talking.”

Sammi looked up at her Uncle. “Watch it now, you’re not saying that I’m your favorite child? Jamie would be heartbroken.”

“Of course not, that’s favoritism. But when your dad and I were growing up, he was always the one who was better at everything, so I guess I just assumed the things would be the same with you two,” Uncle Ben sighed, holding the beers on a tray and leaning against the counter, “You know, the kid without the magic getting the short end of the stick and all.”

“Hey, you calling me a failure old man?”

“I'm not, but you are. Oh, don’t give me that, I’ve seen the way you look at James when he’s not looking,” her Uncle snapped, giving her a knowing glare that stoppered the words in her throat before she had the chance to create a comeback. “It’s the same look I gave your dad when the two of us were growing up.

"Look, Pumpkin,” her Uncle continued quietly, leaning a bit closer, “I saw your face today after the dumb thing with the dishes. Honestly I’m just proud that you’re using complex magic again, to hell with a couple plates. So stop being so damn hard on yourself. You’re doing good. And you don’t need to be so jealous of your brother – I’ve been there, and it’s not a good feeling. You’ve just gotta find your niche, you know?”

Uncle Sam straightened up as some of the werewolves began to howl, clearly impatient for the beers Sam was holding. Uncle Sam winked.

“Give yourself a break, kid. You’re doing just fine.”

Sammi felt a little happy, a little sad, and a little offended for the unsolicited advice. She liked to pretend that no one else was aware of her failings.

I’m aware of them too, you know, her father’s voice whispered into her mind nonchalantly.

“Oh, shut up dad.”

Your spellcasting was actually superb today, you know. You are very talented. The complexity with dealing with a city watermain while casting multiple micro-spells is hardly insubstantial. If you simply hone your concentration –

“Dad. Please shut up.”

“You say something, pumpkin?” her Uncle Sam turned from the werewolf pack he was joking with. Sammi waved and shook her head.

“No, everything’s great over here,” Sammi assured. She flashed a smile and vividly imagined killing her father a second time.

That’s rather impolite of you. I was trying to give you a compliment.

“I don’t want your damn compliment,” Sammi responded - under her breath this time.

Fine. In that case, when do you plan on searching for my pocket watch?

“I’ll stop by the precinct after work. They probably have it in evidence.”

Good. Have a lovely day at work, Samantha.

With that the voice in her head went silent, and she was once again alone with her thoughts. The bar seemed oddly loud after that.

“Hey Sammi, hit us with a couple more beers!” James called, still sitting happily – and possibly a little drunkenly – with the Paragons, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the young man next to him who was also grinning. “And maybe another order of fries!”

“Coming right up!” Sammi shouted back. She pulled out some beers, slipped back into the kitchen, nodded at Graves who was taking inventory, and got to work, drowning out everything else with the sound of boiling water. As she worked, she thought about going to the precinct later that day, surprised to realize that it had been almost three years since she’d last visited.

A drop of hot water hit her hand as she dropped the fries into it and she reflexively pulled back, her heart immediately beginning to pound. That was stupid, it was just water. She relaxed, returning to her work.

Still though, especially when she was going back to the precinct, the feeling of the burning water lingered. It brought back the memories of when her dad died: the months of police officers and Paragons investigating the remnants of her home, and the weeks after that her hands had been wrapped in bandages while she healed from burns that ran from her fingers up her arms.

She knew that it was all in her head – she’d been healed by the best medical magicians and mundane doctors in the city, after all – but at times like this, her palms still itched.

“Just find the stupid watch, Samantha,” she whispered to herself, dunking the fries into the water again. “Find the watch, and you can finally leave this all behind you.”

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