Please read this chapter first, in succession with the next before you bop around to other one-shots. Chapter titles will do something to give away the contents of the chapters. Any chapter with a star ✰ next to it is "canon" and matters to the overarching plot. If you don't care about the plot and just want the fluff, you can feel free to read in whatever order you'd like.

Mandi Gribbin stood over the fresh grave of her dearly departed husband, Blake Gribbin. Fresh tears stuck to her blemished cheeks, stinging hot from bloodshot eyes.

It had already been a day since his funeral, his body buried six feet below in a coffin she couldn't afford. There were many fees that came with death, and many burdens that the living dealt with even while in mourning.

Her hands shaking, she pulled her carefully penned note from the pocket of her hoodie that read "Queen" across the front. She and Blake had worn matching clothing since they started dating, doting on one another to see who could buy the tackiest couples' merch. She had nothing else to wear, the only black thing being the "Queen" hoodie and her old pair of dress pants from when she played music in high school, years back.

She cleared her throat, her voice unsteady as she read the eulogy she couldn't bring herself to recite at the actual reception. Her lips parted, chapped and pale from lack of moisture. Tears continued to flow from her eyes, relentless as they drained her body and sent stinging, deep-rooted pain through to her chest.

"Blake," she sniffled, "you were the love of my life, and I will never forget your kind smile or your crazy laugh or the way your eyebrows swished back on themselves like fishhooks." Mandi laughed through her tears, then gritted her teeth. "Do you remember when we used to tease each other all the time about who would die first? I never thought you'd actually win. I mean, you promised you wouldn't..."

She gripped the paper in her hands and let out a frustrated sigh.

"You dummy! Why'd you leave me here all alone? I know I'll never find anyone like you. Remember what I said about the red string? The one that ties us together no matter the circumstance, no matter the distance? I know you always said it was hokey, that such a thing is silly and doesn't exist, but it... it..."

Mandi frowned and allowed the sorrow to overwhelm her, consume her in its cool, bitter embrace. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed out through her mouth, moaning as the chaos and sadness knifed through her.

The paper dropped to the grassy ground, then blew away with a puff of wind.

Something pulled on her ring finger, where she still wore her wedding band. She'd sworn to never take it off.

At first, this pull seemed like a mere spasm, the kind you have when you're just starting to fall asleep. But then, it tugged again, and spun her around, her back facing the grave.

Tied to her ring finger was a thin, translucent red thread. Glowing slightly, like it was magical.

Her eyes widened.

The red string exists.

If Blake could see she'd been right all along, she'd say, "I told you so!" and laugh in his face. She'd tease him and torture him with the thing he hated most: tickles under his ribs.

But he wasn't here.

She dropped her hand to her side, the string pulsing like a blood vessel external from her body but in tune with the beating of her own heart.

"Mandi?"

A chocolatey voice melted through the thick sorrow that rooted Mandi to the ground. The voice was so velvety sweet, so real-sounding that she could hardly believe her ears.

Her head shot up and she looked around frantically.

"B-Blake?"

She caught a glimpse of something, perhaps the silhouette of a person, though it was hard for her to see through puffy eyes.

Her finger was tugged again. Her eyes ran along the glowing red thread, and she blinked to try to focus on where it led.

There, in front of her, was none other than her precious husband, Blake Gribbin. A smile dashed shyly over his wonderful lips, his hair swished to the side as if he'd just gelled it. And he was wearing a dark black, way-too-expensive suit.

But that wasn't all. Mandi could see through him. He was transparent.

"Blake," she cried.

"Mandi," he said happily back.

Oh, the way he said her name was pure magic. Ecstasy. Music.

They embraced, and though he wasn't entirely there, she could somehow still feel him. His thin frame towered over her and kept her safe.

After a long while, they pulled apart.

Blake lifted his hand, displaying the glowing red string that threaded under his silver wedding ring. A grin stretched from cheek to cheek.

"Do your worst," he chuckled.

Mandi giggled, holding her hand up. She pressed her fingers to his.

"I told you so."