Archive of Our Own ^beta

Fate is a hunched figure in a room full of golden strings. The strings, the lives, and universes they’re in, are usually quite similar. Some are so alike they mesh together, intertwine until you can't tell one from the other.

Others are different, alone, and empty. A heartbeat in a void. 

But the one thing that is never consistent about them is their length. Some could wrap around her body, could make a proper shroud. Others barely curl around her wrist. 

Each a life cut short, each a life lived and died. 

Fate cuts the string in her hand, it echoes around the room and sounds like a box slamming shut. For a moment the room is completely still, no stray breaths because Fate is not alive. 

Then, perhaps in a moment of very human weakness, gained from years of writing their stories, Fate draws her hand over the nearby strings. Lives flash before her hollow, empty eye sockets. A handful of universes unfold beneath her hand. 

✧

i 

Niki laughs so hard her sides ache. She nearly runs over Charlie, their shoulders bumping as popcorn spills over her fingers. Through gasping breaths, she manages, “Careful - careful!” 

Sneeg smiles without remorse from her other side, his fingers poking at her sides and her one extremely ticklish spot that she definitely shouldn’t have told him about. Ranboo grabs his arms and forcefully moves him over, taking his spot beside Niki.

She gives them a thankful smile, grabbing his wrist and throwing it over her shoulder. Austin keeps giving them very judgy looks over his shoulder as he walks in front of them with Vinny and Ethan. But honestly, it’s not her fault Sneeg decided to mess with her. 

Speaking of Sneeg, Niki has a feeling he’s planning something when Charlie speaks. “Calm down guys, we still have to have enough popcorn to last us through Barbie.” Of course, they all listen because of Charlie and Barbie, the most important things ever. Her laughter burns out and Sneeg only gives her a look. 

It’s Charlie, how the hell are any of them supposed to upset him and be on the receiving end of his I am very disappointed in you look? For someone who lacks any kids and siblings, he is surprisingly very effective at it. 

Vinny, one of the few people they could trust with tickets, scans them with the worker. They walk to the theater, passing by more than a few people in hot pink outfits. She lightly elbows Ranboo and nods to a group of teenagers in matching outfits. “You should have dressed up, I saw that skirt in your dresser.” 

Ranboo’s ears go red and Niki knows he’s blushing behind the mask. He shakes his head, “It totally didn’t look good on me.”

“Lies!” She might have said it a little too loud because while they’re walking into the theater Sneeg leans over her shoulder.

“What are we lying about?” There’s a sparkle in his eyes, he’s wearing his up-to-no-good smile. Yeah, he definitely heard them and choose to be as difficult as possible. 

Niki plays along as they walk to their seats, the lights still bright enough to make out everything. “Ranboo and that cute plaid pink skirt they totally didn’t buy.” 

Ranboo groans, and her heart warms. Friends, God she loves her friends. 

“Oh, that one? I almost forgot about it, you should have worn it. It looked awesome on you.” Sneeg means it too even as amusement bleeds into his voice. Teasing Ranboo is worth every word. 

The three of them sit down, Charlie thankfully engrossed in a conversation with the others. Which means they’re left to their fun. Ranboo sits in the middle of them, Sneeg on the outside, and Niki elbow to elbow with Charlie. The second they’re all situated they turn to him, matching grins and sparkling eyes. 

It’s the breaking point because they toss their head back with a groan, “Okay okay. You win, I should have worn the skirt.” Grudgingly, “And it would have looked good.”

She meets Sneeg’s eyes and the second they do she breaks, giggling so hard she has to sit the popcorn down for fear of spilling it. Niki can hear Sneeg’s laughter and Ranboo’s heavily exaggerated sighs. 

She forces herself to quiet down as the lights dim, turning her head to look at the screen. Ranboo intertwines their arms and she can feel Sneeg lightly kicking her leg once. Charlie and the others are beside her, and Niki can feel them, feel them without seeing. Like knowing without knowing. 

A trailer plays and her cheeks ache from smiling. It’s certainly something miraculous to be young and alive and side by side with your friends. 

✧

ii 

Niki nervously smooths invisible wrinkles from her skirt. It’s truly a work of art, dark blue silk over starch white petticoats, everything with fine embroidered waves so lifelike she can almost hear their crashing. It’s a lovely thing and perfect for a day like this, her coronation. 

She swallows hard, a diamond necklace rising and falling on her chest. It’ll be fine, everything will be fine. She takes deep, supposedly soothing breaths, her heart stuttering. Niki tries to think positive thoughts, something good, something kind.

It’s not working.

For a moment she thinks this is it. Niki is going to spiral into a panic attack and ruin everything. Of course the second she thinks that the door swings open so suddenly it startles her. She turns around, at the last moment remembering to be careful with her hair pinned and curled, to see Ranboo. 

Relief crashes over her, of course, Ranboo is here. In what world would her little sibling not be there to see her off? 

He stumbles over something, tripping over the rug and loudly apologizing for being late. Niki smiles, the first real smile today, “I was worried you wouldn’t show up.”

They finally make it to her side, grabbing her hand. “And miss your big day? Never.” Her eyes water, everything catching up to her, crashing alongside the grief. 

Ranboo notices, as they always do, and he pulls her into a hug. Careful of her dress and hair, they curl their arms around her and Niki does the same. She digs her fingernails into their shoulders, shoving her head into the crook of their neck. For a moment the two of them just breathe, content and alive with each other. 

It’s easy to just be around Ranboo. They share the same blood, the ocean rages in their veins, and their souls were cut from the same cloth. Siblings are the sort of thing not even the universe understands. That not even the universe can stand in the way of. 

He finally pulls back, a hand wiping away a tear falling down her cheek. “You ready?” 

It’s so gentle, so loving Niki almost wants to cry. She doesn’t, instead, she takes a breath, unclenches her hands, and allows herself to become the embodiment of calm. “As I’ll ever be.” 

They offer out their arm and Niki takes it. 

Later when a crown, heavy and cold, is resting on her brow Niki will look over the crowd of screaming people and only see Ranboo smiling with a nod of their head. 

✧

iii

There are tales of the Ocean, of how she was the mother to all creatures. How she had lovingly stroked the shore and from her came life. She was the creator of life and thus when it came time, she took their dead. Written on some of their oldest tombs was a prayer inscribed in stone from which we came we shall return. 

Some kingdoms buried their dead, others burned them. They sunk them. 

Ranboo watched with a sense of calm that wasn’t calm, that was just blankness. Niki’s tomb was a beautiful thing of marble and granite, a permanent memorial of her life. Her coffin on the other hand was plain wood and certainly didn’t seem like it contained the former Queen. 

People were watching, as they always had and always will. They were watching their King, their King because their Queen was dead and war boiled at their borders. Ranboo knew there was work to do, allies to make, and advisors to consort with. They knew that Niki would tell him to get off his ass and get to work, but he couldn’t.

Ranboo could barely breathe without Niki and now he was sinking her. He thought he was allowed a little time to grieve even if monarchs are rarely allowed that. 

The wood sunk below the waves, it consumed it and with the coffin Niki. Niki in her lovely purple dress, her hair in intricate braids, paint marking her life and tales across her skin. A sword and crown tucked in her hands. Niki was dead and now she was gone. 

They could hear whispers as they moves but whispers be damned, they no longer cared. Ranboo walked into the water, falling to his knees. Salt water sprayed across his face, mixing with the tears that still fell. Water lapped at their waist, it curled around their body.

It was the same water that now held Niki, that would swiftly bring her to the afterlife, that would hold her, and by the Gods Ranboo wished it would take him too. Ranboo wished to sink into the sand, for his skin to rot and melt, for his bones to be turned to dust on the seabed. As long as it was beside Niki. 

Ranboo wished for anything, as long as he had her. To be trees with branches intertwined, old, and arching, covering the night sky. Two stars twinkling next to each other, burning side by side. Bears curled alongside each other, slipping into sleep in the same carved-out cave. Two old buildings that had long melded together, so much so you cannot tell where one began and the other ended. 

Ranboo wished for death or life or reincarnation, as long as Niki was there.

They got nothing. Instead, they stood up, weighed down by grief, salt, and duty, and they got to work. A crown steady and cold on their head.

✧

iv

Niki’s day consists of a series of lists and orders. It goes as follows. 

Niki’s Bakery: open 7:00 am - 8:00 pm

Cortado - a balanced mix of espresso and warm steamed milk - Ethan who arrives at seven on the dot, always the first to order - He fidgets with his keychain charm, a metal clicking thing - He rarely meets her eyes, tends to look at the wall or just under her eyes - He always smiles so sincerely and caring at her - He always tips

Espresso - a concentrated shot of coffee - 8:15 and Ranboo hurries through the doors, always tired and always running late - They certainly look like they need the shot but with how they talk about their work projects they’re certainly hyper without it - Is some sort of tech person, a coder maybe - Rambles on and on about any topic that catches their mind while they wait - Niki doesn’t mind because mornings are always quiet without them

Galão - add foamed milk to an espresso - 8:45 and Austin strolls in with a perfectly put-together outfit, something stylish, always new, and a calm smile - He walks like he knows he has all the time in the world, that he can never be late - A pair of headphones hanging around his neck and the second he gets his drink, after a thank you and a tip, they’re over his ears and he’s listening to music - Drinks some in the cafe, bobbing his head and humming along to a song 

Mocha - chocolate espresso with steamed milk and foam - Anywhere from 9 to 10 - Vinny and his terrible sweet tooth – Often made with one of her special of the week desserts - Carrot Cakes, Lemon tarts, Blueberry and Rasberry muffins, Chocolate parfait - He sits at one of the cushioned seats and brings out some new handheld puzzle, and solves it - Has a tendency to leave things around the cafe, a carved wooden cat, a tiny metal crown, a surprisingly accurate miniature clay tree - Always waves goodbye when he leaves and wishes her a good day 

Affogato - ice cream with espresso poured over it - 11 on the dot on Saturdays - Charlie with a smile on his face, a light blush when she already has it written down - Some nice small talk about everything that has happened in the past week - She complains about certain rude customers and he tells her all about what the kids he’s teaching have come up with - Children are far kinder than adults - He sits by the window and soaks in the sunlight, he takes in every moment and sees the beauty in it - Alongside her tip he leaves a new drawing on a piece of paper, a cat that walked past the window, a bird in flight, a willow tree dancing in the wind 

Iced Mocha Latte + Black coffee - cooled coffee with milk and chocolate syrup + plain coffee - 2:23 pm just as the sun reaches its highest point - Rae and Sykkuno - They always come together, have since the beginning - Rae’s always busy talking about something new and exciting but spares Niki a smile and a look that says can you believe this? - Sykkuno looks fondly between the two of them before sighing a little - They walk out together, drinks in hand 

Americano - espresso shot diluted with hot water - Sometime around 3 - Sneeg wearing his usual blue hoody, the sleeves pushed up his arm - He takes the coffee gratefully and has a tendency to tell her, after a sip, that she’s a Goddess - Reads the news on his cracked laptop screen and occasionally, when she isn’t busy, he tells her something either new, cool, or sad - Gives a two-fingered salute when he leaves 

Of course, she has other customers, other people she helps. Everyone comes and goes, but they rarely come back though. Niki remembers her regulars and the habit they have made in her life.

✧ 

v

Ranboo is grateful that of all the times the world decided to look kindly at them, it had been when they met Aimsey. He had walked into their life with exactly no grace. Bumping into them and spilling coffee all over their shirt. 

The subsequent trip to the laundry met, Aimsey furiously apologizing the entire time before moving on to rambling, it had been a lovely start to a friendship. 

Besides being funny and an easy person to know, Aimsey was ridiculously kind. Like the infinite sort of kind that shouldn’t exist. Every day Ranboo thanked the Gods for him, because honestly, after everything they lived through, they aren’t sure what they would do alone. 

For know example, they were sitting in front of a mirror, perfectly still and looking at their scars. They had healed nicely, the burns and cuts fading to a light pink. But still, you could see them easily, could see the mask they outlined. 

The worse part was they had almost forgotten about them. Not forget-forget but their mind had slipped as the pain lessened. When they could no longer feel them burning and tearing at their skin it had become less of an issue. But now Ranboo was sharply reminded, Aimsey outside while he waited for them to be ready. Because they were going to a mall to get him a stuffed animal they so desperately wanted. 

Ranboo knew they needed to get up, to walk out but all of their masks were either messy or gone, and they couldn’t stop seeing their scars. It was too much and slowly the world faded, it lost focus. Only the scars on their face and the burning of the mask and the ice-cold shock down his spine.

A sharp inhale brought them back, they met Aimsey’s eyes in the mirror. Her eyes were sad and there was a slight turn of her lips down. Shit. “I’m almost ready. I just have to - I have to.” 

She saw through it easily and the way they stuttered certainly didn’t help. Aimsey walked forward, footsteps soft on the ground. “What’s happening Ran?”

He looked down at his hands, the black nail polish already chipping. Quietly, an almost whisper that was half ashamed, he said. “The scars, I can’t go out with the scars.”

“Oh.” There was no irritation in her voice, Aimsey was calm although they always were when the situation required it. Whenever Ranboo really needed them, they were there. He heard footsteps and the sound of a drawer opening and shutting before Aimsey was back in the room. “How about this?” He looked up to see a foundation, their shade or close to it, in her hands. 

Ranboo looked between Aimsey and the foundation, the twinkle in her eyes. There was no wrong answer, just whatever he was comfortable with. If he said the word they would stay home and watch British baking shows. Or they could let Aimsey cover up their scars. 

After a second of deliberation, a second of realizing how they would trust Aimsey with everything, they nodded.

“Okay, turn so the lights on you.”

He turned so his side was to the mirror, light across his face. There was a pause, Ranboo opened his eyes not realizing when he shut them. Aimsey was standing in front of them and looking rapidly between their face and the foundation. She whispered to herself, “Okay that’ll work.” And then hopped onto the counter, kneeling on it in front of them.

Ranboo couldn’t stop his laughter, his teasing smile. They rolled their eyes, lightly punching his arm. “I need to have a better angle to get it right idiot.” There was nothing but fondness in their voice as they unscrewed the foundation. “Hold still.”

He nodded very seriously but went dead still at the first touch of the cool liquid. It soothed something as Aimsey applied it to their scars, outlining his jaw where the burns were worse. Lightly going over the bridge of their nose. 

They breathed in and out, a calming breath after another. Their heart was beating a little off, a little too fast. It’s not that Ranboo didn’t trust Aimsey, they did, with everything they had. But still, after what Showfall did, any action of having something done to him made his skin crawl. 

Autonomy, they’ve found, once stolen is rather hard to get back. 

But Aimsey was also narrating everything he did. Aimsey was asking permission before blending it in, before adding it to certain areas. Aimsey wasn’t taking anything they did not freely give. 

That made all the difference in the world. 

After an undeterminable time, thirty minutes maybe, Aimsey pulled back and turned her head to one side and then to the other. Finally, she smiled, “It’s perfect. Want to look?” 

Ranboo nervously turned his head to the mirror and nearly flinched. Aimsey was right, it was perfect. The scars, although you could tell the texture was different from this close, were no longer bright pink. No longer jarring on his face. There was a slight difference in their skin color across their jaw and the bridge of their nose but still. It was far better than before.

They could look in the mirror, they realized. They could look in the mirror and not flinch back. Aimsey rocked a little on his feet and Ranboo must have been staring for a while. He shook his head, “It’s - It’s really nice Aimsey. Thank you.”

She smiled back at him, before grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the door. “Come on! There are squishmallows to steal!”

“And by steal you mean buy?” She only grinned back at him in a way that was not at all soothing. Ranboo groaned but it was ruined by the smile that matched hers. 

✧ 

vi

Ranboo scrubs the deck, silently groaning because of course he has to. Of course, being the newest crew member means getting stuck with the worst jobs while everyone laughs at him. Traitors. 

The sun beams down on them, the breeze floats through the sails and everything tastes vaguely of salt. Being a pirate isn’t all bad, except when you’re doing chores.

They wipe the sweat off their brow, and pause. Ranboo leans on the mop and before he starts cleaning again something catches his eye, a glimmer on the sea. Not a glimmer of sunlight on the waves, but something different, something moving.

He walks to the edge of the ship, dropping the mop where he was, and leans on the railing. The glimmer moves closer and closer to the ship, and when it does he begins to make out what it is. A tail cutting through the waves. 

A sea creature, more specifically mer. 

Ranboo is hit with that realization as a head pops up from the waves, a merman with dark green scales along his shoulders that must match his tail. They stare at each other, making uncomfortable eye contact, and while Ranboo is debating on what exactly to say he gets interrupted. 

Water hits his face and not from a stray wave, but from the merman who splashed him. The green scales shimmer in the light but his smile is nearly as bright. He’s playing a game, Ranboo realizes, he’s playing a game. 

They smile back, it seems only polite, and the merman’s eyes twinkle in response. He dives under the waves but resurfaces after a moment, this time with something white in hand. He throws it in the air and Ranboo stumbles to catch it, a seashell. 

The merman mimics something, he balls up his hand and suddenly throws it, his hand opening. “You want to play fetch? Like I throw and you find it?” Ranboo isn’t sure why they expect the random merman to know English but luckily, for some odd reason, he does. 

The merman, Charlie he decides, Charlie fits. Charlie nods rapidly. Ranboo obliges, winding their arm back and throwing the seashell into the waves. Charlie ducks under, his tale briefly swinging up and it shines more than emeralds. Then it’s gone and there’s nothing but a quickly moving shadow under the waves. 

Ranboo waits a moment, they count the waves and where they break. Then with a burst of water, the shell is thrown right by their head and Charlie’s emerged from the water, grinning. Two bored people, well not quiet. Two sentient beings, find each other on a sunny day. 

He brings his arm back, ready to throw it again, when there’s a yell. “Ranboo, what are you doing?!” They turn to see Sneeg leaning on one of the upper decks, a bemused look on his face. They suppose this is an odd situation. 

See they could give him a reasonable answer, or they could screw with him because Sneeg definitely didn’t need the deck cleaned by them when it was cleaned earlier this morning. 

A reasonable answer is rather boring, so instead of throwing the seashell they throw the mop. Charlie of course goes to get it but Sneeg’s yell and the utter confusion on his face are priceless. And worth the lecture he'll get later. 

✧ 

vii

In one universe, one where the show really is a show. One where pain is a distant memory, Charlie and Ethan always hang out after a day of shooting. 

It’s exhausting, performing for hours on end, especially draining scenes. Charlie has a habit of getting migraines, although he rarely complains about them. Instead, he grits his teeth and presses his head to cool metal. He looks at the ceiling because it’s plain and boring, because it doesn’t make his head spin. 

It works most days, after all rarely anyone has figured it out yet. He likes it better that way. But children are worse at hiding things and some people don’t forget. So Ethan always comes over on his bad days.

On days when Charlie shoves his face into his leather couch, hands pressed to his ears, to his pounding head, Ethan's there. He’s quiet, he knows his way around Charlie’s house like he knows his own. Ethan gets warm tea and an ice pack. He presses the ice pack to Charlie’s head and sets the tea on the coffee table.

Then he curls into a chair and reads a book, turning the pages without a sound. When Charlie finally emerges from his cocoon, he drinks the tea and wordlessly Ethan sits on the couch next to him. He puts on a calm cooking show, the brightness, and sound turned down. And the two of them half watch it, Charlie’s head resting on his shoulder. 

He never says it, never looks at Ethan, and calls him brother . Although it would be rather accurate. Instead, Charlie thinks, fondly, sometimes family is you and that one other child actor who grew up with you. Sometimes family is the furthest thing from blood and all the better for it.

✧

viii

Austin snaps his fingers and the fire crackles. He’s burning, his body a pyre, his eyes a wildfire. 

Vinny sighs when smoke fills the room, rolling his eyes at Austin’s sheepish stare. He spreads his arms and the wind swirls across the room, it curls around the fireplace and the tables and chairs. The smoke disappears and the room smells faintly of burning cedar.

The two of them sit on the couch, enchanted to match their perfect level of comfort. Vinny pulls up a blanket, the wind hollows his bones and blurs in his veins. He tends to run cold.

Austin curls into the chair and if it weren’t for his flammable, vintage jacket, he’s been practically purring in the fireplace. Something he definitely should have warned Vinny about before he did it the first time. 

Vinny presses the remote and a movie, an action thriller, starts to play. Magic is thick in the air, thyme, and nutmeg. They’re warm and content and in this life, fear hasn’t scarred them, hasn’t torn them apart. 

✧

ix 

Heartbeats are terribly loud Niki’s learned. If she isn’t careful they consume her, fill her mind until it drives her mad. Good thing she’s careful. 

The bar she’s in stinks of alcohol and women’s cheap perfume. Typical but time in the middle rings of the Earth Kingdom have made her nose wrinkle more than usual. 

Hunting the Fire Nation, more specifically soldiers had taken her across the continent. The last few weeks Niki had been hunting a General, the same General who slaughtered her people and threw chains on her. 

She’d made sure he had known someone was coming. Let him get a little taste of being hunted. By the time Niki had finally gone to finish the job he had stunk of fear. 

Killing him had made her blood thrum, had made the wild girl-child screaming inside of her quiet. The girl-child who'd been screaming since the attack, since Niki had lost everything. 

Whoever said revenge wouldn’t soothe the soul was a fucking liar. 

Revenge had healed her wounds, blood bending had, which brought her here: a sketchy and questionable bar. She’s sitting in a corner seat, a hood over her hair and face, a cup of alcohol she will not be touching in front of her. 

Niki was looking for someone to hurt, someone to take the buzzing in her blood out on. It’s been far too long since she’s been able to breathe and bend water, blood to her command. She knew that she’d find someone like that in a place like this. Some drunk idiot who didn’t know what no meant, some old man talking about beating his wife. This is the sort of place where assholes go to congregate. 

Which meant it was the perfect hunting place for a girl like her. 

She absentmindedly traced the rim of her cup, finger catching on a chipped edge. She was almost bored enough to complain about it when a hushed silence filled the place. Niki looked up to see red, a red that meant death. A red that meant Fire Nation Soldiers.

The bar, which previously was full of laughter and loud voices, was now a buzz of whispers. The soldiers, three of them, walked toward the barkeeper with nothing on their faces that showed they noticed the silence. Though, Niki saw their tense shoulders, their tapping hands. They definitely noticed.

The group of soldiers, and her attention was now fully on them, were two men and a woman. The men towered over the woman but she held herself like Niki, like she knew that when it came down to it she was the danger. If there wasn’t hatred festering in her stomach Niki would respect it. 

They ordered their drinks and slowly when they didn’t start burning people the bar returned to its normal noise. Everyone seemed to forget the soldiers, everyone but Niki. Her eyes were glued to them even as they slowly relaxed, the tension in their shoulders melting away. 

That is what does it, the thought of them feeling safe enough to relax, feeling calm and content. Their laughing together and Niki wants to claw at their eyes, she wants to tear them in two, she wants to scream and cry like the child she never was because how dare they be happy. How dare they smile in their blood-stained armor with their blood-stained hands. After everything, how dare they be happy. 

Every dead Fire Nation Soldier is another life saved, another terrified child untouched, another village unburned. 

She waits until one of them, Ethan the female soldier is saying, her head resting on the other soldier’s shoulder. Ethan gets up to get something from his bag, a missing something. He walks out, swaying on the steps.

She follows, melting into the crowd, stepping around drunks and passed-out figures. Come morning not a single person would remember her. That’s how she liked it. Niki shuts the door quietly behind her and takes a breath, relishing the moon against her skin. 

She walks quietly on the brush until she can see Ethan, digging through his saddle bag. Niki raises her hand and pulls, her blood burning, the moon singing an old song. He doesn’t die instantly, she could kill him instantly but instead Niki tears. She pulls the heart in two and for a moment he’s just making a gasping noise. 

He makes eye contact with her, her hood finally falling back revealing her hair and eyes. They reflect in the moonlight and when he sees her fingers twitch, when the pain doubles, she knows he knows what she is. That is its own terrible sort of power. 

There is a flicker of fear, of pain, of infinite sadness, and then there is nothing. The Fire Bender with sad eyes drops to the ground with a thud. She steps over his corpse. 

She’s left the town by morning, with a new name and new hair. Niki doesn’t give the fire bender with sad eyes a second thought. 

✧

x 

Niki is happy, Niki is in love and everything is perfect. She wakes up and smiles at the plants that line her windowsill. (She’s never watered them and yet they never die) 

She dresses in a nice dress and flats, and does her hair and makeup. Still smiling, always smiling because what reason does she have to not? Once ready she goes to the kitchen and makes pancakes. She sets them on a plate next to a glass of orange juice and leaves a little note. Love you - Niki :) 

Niki is happy, Niki is in love and Niki goes to work knowing that Puffy will have breakfast when she wakes. Puffy is always working night shifts in that hospital, of course she sleeps late. (What’s the hospital's name, what’s the hospital's name) 

Niki flips the open/closed sign and waits patiently. She’s surrounded by beautiful smelling flowers, lilacs and roses and lilies and every flower under the sun. (She cannot remember buying them)

Customers come as they always do. Austin and flowers for his many wives, she gives him a smile and suspicious eyes, and a laugh track plays. Charlie and his Mother's Day gift, she melts, the audience melts. Ethan for those friends of his. (Mark and Amy, Mark and Amy)

Time passes and like clockwork Puffy shows up. Niki lights up, her smile growing. (Her cheeks ache) She practically runs over and throws her arms around Puffy. Like she didn’t just see her. Like she didn’t just see her. 

She presses her lips to Puffy’s and sparks fly, they burn and Niki burns with them. Puffy is here, how could she not be happy?

Niki is smiling, Niki is in love and Puffy is the perfect girlfriend. She asks her questions about her plants and doesn’t get annoyed when Niki rambles. Puffy looks to the side, with a see what i put up with for love look. 

Niki’s cheeks ache, they hurt from smiling so much. She’s still talking about flowers, about Hyacinths and Daisies, Forget-me-nots and Tulips. She’s smiling and talking and smiling and talking.

The streets outside of her shop haven’t changed, in all her years here they haven’t changed. The same trash, the same red bin with weeds overflowing. The same out of cookies on the bakery sign. They haven’t changed, why haven’t they changed?

This isn’t right. This isn’t right, something is off, something is wrong. This isn’t - 

Puffy threads their fingers together and the world snaps back into place. How could anything be wrong with the love of her life at her side? 

✧

xi

Blood drip drips on the floor. Red lights glare against a limp body. The controls are shut down, leaving nothing but a black, wire-covered mess. The only lights left are those off the wall, a haunting shadow projected on the ground.

In another room in the Showfall branded mall, a man in green twitches on the ground. It’s not the twitch of life but that of death, of when the air from your body is expelled. When your blood and organs shift as your body cools. The man has shattered glasses by his face, and a clawed beast rests beside him.

On the beast's claws, in the messy flesh and wires of his torso, is the blood of another man. The man in blue, the man who almost escaped, the man who got caught. The man in blue has his intestines laying on the ground beside him in a once fog-covered area. 

Further into the facility, past the Blue man’s body and the mock cabin are a series of rooms. Within the rooms, there’s a girl, splayed out on the ground, with blood stains on her. One on her torso, a bullet that glided through her muscles, through her spine, severing it, before sticking in the wall behind her. The second, a perfectly round hole in the middle of her head. 

The next is a man, his head crushed in by an anvil. Brain matter mixes with blood in the once lazor-filled room. He hadn’t had time to be afraid, he wasn’t allowed to be afraid. He was just dead.

The next room, crumpled in between a wall, is a mess of limbs and crushed body parts. The man in purple, though it’s no longer purple, though it’s stained a deep ugly red. The man in purple lies there, you cannot make out his face but you can see the blood trail. 

The last part, the last man, the one in orange is much in the same condition. A mess of twisted limbs and shattered bones. The white sticks out amongst the red, the bones snapped in two, cracked. The man in orange had fought, he had failed. 

Blood drip drips and bodies rot. Showfall’s banner hangs limply in the center of it all, pure white. 

✧

xii

Paraplegia, paralysis of the lower body. 

It turns out that being crushed to death and then brought back has consequences. Ethan can’t feel anything below his waist, the sheets against his skin must be rough and yet, it’s just nothing. 

See in stories when the police come, when the heroes come, everything is supposed to end up okay. But that’s not how reality goes because all of them are in the hospital, Niki with two gunshot wounds, everyone else with various crushing, shattered wounds. Ranboo with their face pierced and torn apart. 

None of them are okay and none of them ever will be, and it’s not fair. 

There are hands in his own, and for not the first time Ethan thanks God that he didn’t have full paralysis. He’s not sure he could handle not being able to feel Mark and Amy’s touch, their comfort.

They had shown up at 1 am, all tears and grief that was years old. They had yet to leave even at his blank stares, his lack of memories with barely the slightest of feelings. They had stayed and that was far more than most people.

Ethan survived Showfall, at a cost, but that is a worry for another time. Now he just squeezes their hands and when they wake, he lets the tears come. They hold him, arms wrapped around his trembling body and this is what safety is. 

Mark and Amy hold him and nothing is okay but for now, he’s safe and loved. For now, that has to be enough. 

✧

xiii

Austin hides in the ship called Araxs, owned by Vinny, a ship that totally isn’t full of illegal black market items. He manages to stay hidden for two weeks before he’s caught by Ethan in the dead of night looking for food. He scares Ethan so much he phases through the floor and lands on a sleeping Sneeg. 

If it weren’t for the heartstopping fear Austin would be cackling. Years later with a blue-blushing Ethan and a glaring Sneeg he finally does laugh. Years later Austin finds a family with a group of smugglers and the chains and tools of the monsters who stole him from Earth become a distant nightmare. 

✧

xiv

A mark somewhere on your body connects you to your soulmate - platonic, romantic, or familial. The mark can be anything, any sign, shape, or color. You can have more than one mark, but everyone is born with at least one. 

Ranboo is born blessed, or at least his parents tell him that. He is born with six marks, all up his right wrist to his elbow. A red cat with fangs, a green bat, a blue baseball hat, an orange music note, a rubber duck with a jean hat, and finally a purple goldfish. A lovely collection of permanent tattoos that they’re stuck with.

So very nice and lovely. 

Yeah, turns out weird marks are rather annoying when you cannot find your soulmate. So instead of being this nice sweet thing, they’re just bad tattoos. 

Ranboo has had to deal with them and the constant teasing, the how drunk were you? how much do you regret it? And just the plain assholes who don’t know when to stop. So obviously they’ve gained a little annoyance at their soulmates, all completely warranted mind you. 

But after about five years of silence, nothing, not a single meeting, the annoyance had died down. It’s hard to be angry at people you’ve never met. Ranboo certainly still feels it but it’s like a dull ember rather than a wildfire sort of annoyance. 

They had, for some reason, decided not to wear long sleeves at a party their roommate invited them to. It was a typical college party, with alcohol, loud and terrible music, and even more terrible dancing. So he had strategically retreated, not in a cowardly run away from everything and was now sitting outside by the pool way.

Nobody had the great idea to jump into it, at least not yet, so Ranboo counted themselves lucky. They watched the water swirl around, lights flickering around at the bottom. It was peaceful until someone sat down next to him rather loudly. 

They glanced over to see a man in orange, a red cup in his hands, and a smile on his face. “Do you need -”

“You’re the angry zebra!” What the fu-

“I’m sorry?” The man in orange smiled, the sort of cat got the canary smile. He looked like he had won the lottery and was staring at Ranboo’s arm. They glanced down at the marks and their eyes widened.

He let out a groan just as the man pushed up his right sleeve before grabbing their arm, shoving the two next to each other. Their arms were similar except for one difference, in place of the musical note on the man’s arm there was a Zebra with red eyes and a glare. 

Are you kidding me?!?

The man traced over the symbols, “See that’s Niki, then Charlie, Sneeg, You, Vinny and Ethan! All of us there! And we’re here!” 

He nodded to a group surrounding a ping pong table, a woman, and four guys. Ranboo looked rapidly between them and the still happily talking guy holding his arm. They let out a frustrated groan that was close to a scream, just their luck. 

Orange music note hopped up, pulling them with him. He dragged Ranboo towards the group, they could hear laughter, laughter that warmed them. Charlie smiled at them, a concerned look in his eyes. Niki waved her fingers and her laughter was the sort that belonged in movies, that should be bottled up and kept safe. Damn.

Yeah, they thought bitterly, this annoyance was not going to last. 

✧

xv

Ethan cannot look at himself in mirrors and it’s become the bane of his existence. Become a vampire they say. You’ll be immortal they say. You’ll be all-powerful and epic they say. What they don’t say is that you’ll have terrible hair for the rest of eternity.

“Oh come on Ethan, it’s not that bad.” He throws a glare that could burn at Sneeg, who is having the time of his life on the couch. Sneeg’s been a vampire for over a century, he’s an old dinosaur and therefore doesn’t get to talk. 

Ethan pointedly doesn’t look at the others, who are all older than Sneeg. Charlie whose the eldest, Charlie who none of them quite know how old he is because he just gives them non-answers. Ethan has a sneaking suspicion he's at least five hundred years old, something about how he talks. 

But on to more important matters. “I am going to die and it’s going to be your fault.” He runs his hand through his hair, through the mess of hair dye and two in-the-morning haircuts. Ethan was just having a little bit of a crisis okay? It seemed very reasonable at the time. 

The only reason he knows that Niki gets up and stalks behind him is because he can feel her. Just like he can feel all the others, covens and sire bonds and all that. Niki’s the oldest besides Charlie and was born to a hunter family, and she certainly learned well. She’s always more panther, more predator than anything else.

She was also caring. 

Niki places a hand on his shoulder, her voice calm. “It looks fine, I promise you it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

He groans, and Ethan knows he sounds like a whining child but his hair. “Niki don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying,” Her hands don’t tense and her voice doesn’t shake. “It looks decent Ethan, decent enough to go out into public.”

He turns to look at her, flinching a little at the purple/blue hair that falls into his eyes. “You sure.”

She nods and sends a glare at Sneeg’s muffled laughter. Sneeg shuts up instantly and Ethan doesn’t try to contain his glee, Niki is scary as shit. She also isn’t in the habit of lying to them. So it’s decent, he can work with decent. 

With a forced lightness he speaks, “Okay! Ready to go piss off some wolves?” There are faint cheers as they get up and Niki’s gaze turns sharp. She always did like a good hunt. 

✧

xvi

Niki is the Goddess of Revenge, Nemesis is her first name but not her last. Her snarl becomes just as well known as her steady hands, and the blood that follows. She is the Goddess of vengeance, of Clytemnestra’s dead husband, and her smile as her daughter was avenged. People, Mortals and Gods alike, often forget that she is the Goddess of Retribution as well. That she is simply Fate righting the scales. They never liked to be reminded, but oh how she takes pleasure in it. 

Charlie is the God of Family, of Hearths, of the first home. Hestia in another life, the forgotten sister is replaced with the forgotten brother who shares her kind smile and pyre eyes. He watches as his family tears each other to pieces, and when they come limping to him Charlie picks up the pieces and rights them. The Hearth of the Gods never dies out, not under his watch. 

Vinny is the God of trade, of messages, of feet that can never stay still, and an ever-present smile. He bounds the worlds, those of Gods and Mortals and things that are neither. He carries with him both words and trinkets. He smiles at Nemesis, the hounds of war and blood howling at her feet, and gives her a blade so sharp she could cut the heavens in two. He ducks under shadows, under crumbling skeletons, and gives the Lord of Death a flower that cannot die. 

Austin is the God of Love, of lovers and smiles pressed to skin under the moon, of kinds and queens who bear the same crown. Austin spreads love and smiles when it blossoms, smiles when Ares comes tumbling after. Few realize that love is intertwined with war, in more ways than one. He laughs against Ares and a Princess kills the King and crowns herself, her lover, her former lady in waiting by her side. He presses a kiss to Ares blood stained, scar-ridden skin, and empires rise and fall. 

Ethan is the God of Death, of the truly lost. He sits in the darkness and aches for that which he can never have. For the smiling and joyful Amy and Mark, for those who live. He collects dutifully, but never cruelly. Death is not a monster, Death just is. Or at least he tries to remind himself of that when his brothers and sisters howl at the deaths of their beloved mortals. 

Sneeg is the God of Duty, he is the judge and the jury and the executioner and the dead man walking. He shoulders the world on his shoulders in a way that few, Godly or not, could. He is the Queen and the cold crown on her head, the babe in her arms, and her husband's pyre burning. He is the peasant waking before dawn to tend to the animals. He is Nemesis and her biting sword. He is Charlie and the embers that may never die. Sneeg is the God of Duty and he has yet to falter under the weight of it all. 

Ranboo is the God of Soldiers, of Survivors. They cradle blood-stained children in armor too big for them. They wipe the sweat-stained brows of men who’ve fought war after war. They are the soldier dying beneath the blade and the one holding it. They are the victim and the perpetrator, and then the roles reverse. Ranboo is the God of those used by Kings, by Gods, whose lives are nothing to them. Ranboo is always dying, always killing, and there is no end to their story

✧

xvii

In a universe where trees are purple and humans are air-bound things unburdened by bodies, Charlie and Ranboo sit next to each other on lilac leaves.

They are happy being two whispy spirits together.

✧

xviii

In a world that is more fairytale than reality, Ranboo sits with Death and makes her tea. She’s wearing all black, a mourning shroud covering her face. Although occasionally she’ll glitch, warp into a white draped dress, into a small girl or a figure with a scythe, more than he can count. 

Death sits at his table, all deaths. 

They set the hot teapot in the center and take off the top. Chamomile tea sweetened with honey and a drop of maple syrup fills the air. Ranboo carefully pours two cups and sits one near Death. 

There are blueberry scones and bread rolls on the table as well but they know by now that Death will not touch them. Something about how the dead cannot eat but can drink. But still, it’s rather rude not to offer. 

He imagines Death’s smile, skin crawling with moss and cracking like stone, as a shadowy hand wraps around the teacup. Ranboo does smile when the cup disappears behind her shroud. There is satisfaction in knowing your guests enjoy your drink. 

As usual, they don’t talk, Ranboo had tried in the beginning but every raspy response had sent shivers down their spine. Some things such as the words of a God aren’t meant to be heard over tea. Besides, silence is rather comfortable.

The tea rolls down their throat, wetting it for the scone. Butter melts on the roll, some dripping on their fingers before they wipe it away. The wind drifts through an open window, the sun shines alongside it. All is well.

When the tea cup is empty Death sets it down in its place. Ranboo expects her to leave, to blink, and for the shadows to be gone. But she doesn’t.

Death reaches out a hand, shadows curling around her fingers, around her ring. They hold still as her hand frames his face. A finger brushes against the scars on their jaw, the outline of a mask. Ranboo almost imagines there is regret that flickers across her face.

The world is still, the breeze gone and even the sunbeams hesitate. Ranboo holds their breath, a hand trembling above their face. Death pulls back and whispers, a thousand voices and languages that they understand perfectly.

“This was never meant to be your fate, and for that I am sorry.” 

Oh, he had always wondered why Death stuck around, why she visited. Now it’s rather clear, guilt because this was not the life he was intended for. And yet it was the life he had received.

Ranboo tries for a smile, tries to forgive a God who is without fault. Who simply was unaware of what humans and their terrible ways could do. They can picture Niki’s snarl, her too-sharp teeth, and how they never caused him fear. Charlie’s gentle, small smile and his aching wound of heart.  

He’s certain that when Death came for them, she was gentle. That she had raised them in her arms and cradled them like they were still children. That for all their lifetime of fear, their few moments with Death were fearless ones.

That is why forgiveness comes easily.

“It’s alright.” They mean it and Death knows because the air of guilt is gone. She smiles, he knows she smiles even behind the flickering shroud. Then she is gone.

Ranboo sips chamomile tea and this world, although full of pain and grief, also has a soft ending.

That which many are denied. 

✧

xix

Austin hurries through the grass, through the small cracking tombstones. It’s rather fitting, if slightly annoying, that the graveyard is perfectly quiet. Which means his swearing is rather loud when he slams his foot into a grave that blends into the grass.

He leans down after a few curse words and brushes away the growing ivy and leaves. It’s not like Charlie is going anywhere and he certainly owes this person something. Austin almost laughs at his thoughts and Niki did say his way of coping was terrible jokes. 

With a little tugging and digging, the flowers he bought nearby resting on the grass, he can make out the name. In carefully carved letters reads Ranboo, Nov 2, 2003 - May 28, 2023.

Nineteen, the kid was nineteen when he died. Austin inhales sharply, a pang of grief in his stomach, a pain that he shouldn’t be feeling towards a stranger.

It’s the age, it must be. There’s always something worse about dying young. Especially dying young and being forgotten because clearly there’s no one tending to his grave. 

There are no flowers drying and crumpling only to be replaced. There are no toys or momentums, no picture or tear-stained, earth-ruined letter. There’s nothing for the nineteen-year-old who died except for a run-down grave. 

No one to mourn.

He wonders if there’s a reason, if Ranboo died with his family, or if there was never anyone to care for him. Neither option sounds particularly pleasant. (A car accident, a drunk driver, and a mother's scream. A normal tragedy.)

Austin looks at the flowers, forget-me-nots curling around white lilies and roses. He thinks of Charlie and his care, his smile and the way safety was his hug. He knows suddenly, and with certainty, that he wouldn’t mind.

That Charlie would want it. 

Austin carefully pulls out one of the roses and lays on top of the grave. He pauses before cleaning it up, throwing away the vines and weeds, brushing off the dirt the best he can. Finally, once he’s done, it looks like there’s someone in this world that’s grieving the kid.

As he gets up, walking towards Charlie's marble grave, Austin thinks it’s true. There is someone grieving Ranboo, even if he didn’t quite know him. 

✧

xx

Somewhere in between the realities, cushioned between royals with crowns of blood and rebels who fight amongst the stars, is a perfectly mundane world.

There are no monsters, no mind-controlling memory-stealing companies, there is no bogeyman. It’s as kind of a world you’ll ever find.

Ranboo works for a computer company, coding, and he does so happily. They wake up in the morning and walk to their favorite coffee shop for breakfast. The cashier, Aimsey, and their black beanie, greets them with a smile and the same order they always get. 

They sit in the corner of the shop, with their back to the wall and front facing the window, and enjoy the coffee and muffin. Once they finish they walk to work and go about their day. 

Ranboo doesn’t know Sneeg or Charlie. He’s never met them, never smiled at them bloody or not, never died for them. 

One day though two men will come into the cafe. It was storming that day but there was no anger on their faces. They were laughing enough that Ranboo looked up. 

The man in blue orders a plain black coffee. The man in green orders chamomile tea. They sit by the door and talk and soon Ranboo has forgotten all about them. 

He gets up, throws away his trash, and pulls up the hood of his coat. He walks past the men and for a moment he almost pauses. For a moment he almost talks to them but then there’s a bing on his phone and work to do.

Ranboo walks out the door and into the storm, he never sees the men again. Never do they walk into the cafe, laughing in a way that makes him look up. 

There’s a flicker of regret when they don’t come in the next day. Maybe, Ranboo thinks, he should have talked to them. Maybe they would have been friends. But then Aimsey is handing him the muffin and he pushes away all the thoughts of these men.

They meet once in this mundane world, and by meet, Fate means they barely cross paths. You’d be surprised by how often that is a kindness, not a cruelty.