#I mean the hobbits is A plot but you get me

[3hks]

How to Get Better at Writing Without Actually Writing

Are you looking to improve your writing without needing to write? I'll admit, I am definitely that kind of person--I have the hardest time even finding something interesting to write--despite that, I have noticed that my writing has vastly improved over the past year or two when it was hardly a hobby, and here's how I did it!

ANALYZE DIFFERENT WORKS

Yes yes, everyone tells you to READ, READ, and READ, even I will agree. However, unlike what some people tell you, you don't actually have to read all those classics like Heart of Darkness or The Hobbit. Of course, those books are very beneficial, but if you find no interest in those types of books (like me), then don't read them!

If you prefer reading casual stories posted by online authors, whether it be a fanfiction or their own, original story, it still qualifies as reading! As long as you are able to find a work that you particularly enjoy, that's all you need!

When reading, the key to improving at writing is to always study the story. Take a moment to look at certain words or phrases that stick out to you. How does the author use them? What do they mean? Keep track of the characters' development and how it affects them. Additionally, note things like powerful scenes, dialogue, and more to have an idea of how you can create something just as impactful. For example, if a text made you cry, think about how and why you reacted like that. This can actually help you re-create events that hold the same effectiveness, if not more!

To add on, if you really dislike reading just that much, then you can always analyze things like shows, movies, etc. However, this will prove to be less efficient because you often don't get access to the text behind the shows. Still, it's a good way to study the plot, characters, character developments, dialogue, and relationships!

2. PROOFREADING

No, I'm not saying that you should be an editor; this actually ties back to my first tip. Remember how I said that if you don't want to read classics, then don't? Well, this is because forcing yourself to read them is completely unnecessary (unless you like them or want to write like the author, of course). As a matter of fact, reading poorly written stories can be very helpful for improvement!

When we read books or novels that have obvious grammar errors, repetitive words, and choppy sentences, we will realize these mistakes and point them out to ourselves. Being able to scout out faults means that we are able to learn from them and grow! Noticing these things will also help prevent you from making the same or similar mistakes!

3. STUDY TIPS ONLINE

I used to go search up websites on Google whenever I wanted help with a certain topic. Of course, not all of the sites are reliable and/or helpful, but some point out good ideas that a couple of us just need! This can be especially useful regarding the things that we are unfamiliar with when writing. They can offer a base foundation and tips on how to start and finish!

They can also serve as a great inspiration for fresh ideas and new perspectives!

Yes, these three tips are pretty simple; however, I have found that they work very well for me! People vary from person-to-person, so it can't be guaranteed the same effect, but this is the best I got! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! <3

Happy writing~

3hks :)

[physalian]

Pacing your Story (Or, How to Avoid the "Suddenly...!")

Arguably *the* most important lesson all writers need to learn, even for those who don’t give a damn about themes and motifs and a moral soap box: How your story is paced, whether it’s a comic book, a children’s chapter book, a doorstopper, a mini series, a movie, or a full-length season of TV (old school style), pacing is everything.

Pacing determines how long the story *feels* regardless of how long it actually is. It can make a 2 hour movie feel like 90 mins or double the time you’re trapped in your seat.

There’s very little I can say about pacing that hasn’t been said before, but I’m here to condense all that’s out there into a less intimidating mouthful to chew.

So: What is pacing?

Pacing is how a story flows, how quickly or slowly the creator moves through and between scenes, how long they spend on setting, narration, conversation, arguments, internal monologues, fight scenes, journey scenes. It’s also how smoothly tone transitions throughout the story. A fantasy adventure jumping around sporadically between meandering boredom, high-octane combat, humor, grief, and romance is exhausting to read, no matter how much effort you put into your characters.

Anyone who says the following is wrong:

Good pacing is always fast/bad pacing is always slow

Pacing means you are 100% consistent throughout the entire story

It doesn’t matter as much so long as you have a compelling story/characters/lore/etc

Now let me explain why in conveniently numbered points:

1. Pacing is not about consistency, it’s about giving the right amount of time to the right pieces of your story

This is not intuitive and it takes a long time to learn. So let’s look at some examples:

Lord of the Rings: The movies trimmed a *lot* from the books that just weren’t adaptable to screen, namely all the tedious details and quite a bit of the worldbuilding that wasn’t critical to the journey of the Fellowship. That said, with some exceptions, the battles are as long as they need to be, along with every monologue, every battle speech. When Helm’s Deep is raging on, we cut away to Merry and Pippin with the Ents to let ourselves breathe, then dive right back in just before it gets boring.

The Hobbit Trilogy: The exact opposite from LotR, stretching one kids book into 3 massive films, stuffing it full of filler, meandering side quests, pointless exposition, drawing out battles and conflicts to silly extremes, then rushing through the actual desolation of Smaug for… some reason.

Die Hard (cause it’s the Holidays y’all!): The actiony-est of action movies with lots of fisticuffs and guns and explosions still leaves time for our hero to breathe, lick his wounds, and build a relationship with the cop on the ground. We constantly cut between the hero and the villains, all sharing the same radio frequency, constantly antsy about what they know and when they’ll find out the rest, and when they’ll discover the hero’s kryptonite.

2. Make every scene you write do at least two things at once

This is also tricky. Making every scene pull double duty should be left to after you’ve written the first draft, otherwise you’ll never write that first draft. Pulling double duty means that if you’re giving exposition, the scene should also reveal something about the character saying it. If you absolutely must write the boring trip from A to B, give some foreshadowing, some thoughtful insight from one of your characters, a little anecdote along the way.

Develop at least two of the following:

The plot

The backstory

The romance/friendships

The lore

The exposition

The setting

The goals of the cast

Doing this extremely well means your readers won’t have any idea you’re doing it until they go back and read it again. If you have two characters sitting and talking exposition at a table, and then those same two characters doing some important task with filler dialogue to break up the narrative… try combining those two scenes and see what happens.

**This is going to be incredibly difficult if you struggle with making your stories longer. I do not. I constantly need to compress my stories. **

3. Not every scene needs to be crucial to the plot, but every scene must say something

I distinguish plot from story like a square vs a rectangle. Plot is just a piece of the tale you want to tell, and some scenes exist just to be funny, or romantic, or mysterious, plot be damned.

What if you’re writing a character study with very little plot? How do you make sure your story isn’t too slow if 60% of the narrative is introspection?

Avoid repeating information the audience already has, unless a reminder is crucial to understanding the scene

This isn’t 1860 anymore. Every detail must serve a purpose. Keep character and setting descriptions down to absolute need-to-know and spread it out like icing on a cake – enough to coat, but not give you a mouthful of whipped sugar and zero cake.

Avoid describing generic daily routines, unless the existence of said routine is out of ordinary for the character, or will be rudely interrupted by chaos. No one cares about them brushing their teeth and doing their hair.

Make sure your characters move, but not too much. E.g. two characters sitting and talking – do humans just stare at each other with their arms lifeless and bodies utterly motionless during conversation? No? Then neither should your characters. Make them gesture, wave, frown, laugh, cross their legs, their arms, shift around to get comfortable, pound the table, roll their eyes, point, shrug, touch their face, their hair, wring their hands, pick at their nails, yawn, stretch, pout, sneer, smirk, click their tongue, clear their throat, sniff/sniffle, tap their fingers/drum, bounce their feet, doodle, fiddle with buttons or jewelry, scratch an itch, touch their weapons/gadgets/phones, check the time, get up and sit back down, move from chair to table top – the list goes on. Bonus points if these are tics that serve to develop your character, like a nervous fiddler, or if one moves a lot and the other doesn’t – what does that say about the both of them? This is where “show don’t tell” really comes into play.

4. Your entire work should not be paced exactly the same

Just like a paragraph should not be filled with sentences of all the same length and syntax. Some beats deserve more or less time than others. Unfortunately, this is unique to every single story and there is no one size fits all.

General guidelines are as follows:

Action scenes should have short paragraphs and lots of movement. Cut all setting details and descriptors, internal monologues, and the like, unless they service the scene.

Journey/travel scenes must pull double or even triple duty. There’s a reason very few movies are marketed as “single take” and those that are don’t waste time on stuff that doesn’t matter. See 1917.

Romantic scenes are entirely up to you. Make it a thousand words, make it ten thousand, but you must advance either the romantic tension, actual movement of the characters, conversation, or intimacy of the relationship.

Don’t let your conversations run wild. If they start to veer off course, stop, boil it down to its essentials, and cut the rest.

When transitioning between slow to faster pacing and back again, it’s also not one size fits all. Maybe it being jarring is the point – it’s as sudden for the characters as it is for the reader. With that said, try to keep the “suddenly”s to a minimum.

5. Pacing and tone go hand in hand

This means that, generally speaking, the tone of your scene changes with the speed of the narrative. As stated above, a jarring tonal shift usually brings with it a jarring pacing shift.

A character might get in a car crash while speeding away from an abusive relationship. A character who thinks they’re safe from a pursuer might be rudely and terrifyingly proven wrong. An exhausting chase might finally relent when sanctuary is found. A quiet dinner might quickly turn romantic with a look, or confession. Someone casually cleaning up might discover evidence of a lie, a theft, an intruder and begin to panic.

--

Whatever the case may be, a narrative that is all action all the time suffers from lack of meaningful character moments. A narrative that meanders through the character drama often forgets there is a plot they’re supposed to be following.

[writers-potion]

Got anything for dialogue

Writing Dialogue 101

Dialogue is conversation, nothing more, nothing less. The catch is: diagloue is EDITED conversation. It must be more concise, purposeful and witty than the everyday sentences we speak, while sounding natural.

The Purpose of Dialogue

Diaglue is definitely a fiction elements that pops everything up and out. Thus, dialogue is going to have more impact than your normal paragraphs, in order to:

Characterizes/reveals motives

Sets the mood in the story

Intensifies the story conflict

Creates tension and suspense

Speeds up your scenes

Add bits of setting/backgronud

Communicates the theme

Matching the Dialogue to the Genre

The dialogue in a book should speak the reader's language. There is a type of voice that suits each genre/category of fiction, and we must understand what matches the reader expectations and rhythm of the plot we are writing.

Magical Dialogue

"Do not kill him even now. For he has not hurt me. And in any case I do not wish him to be slain in this evil mood. He was great once, of a nobel kind that we should not dare to raise our hands against." - The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkein

"As much as I want you and want to be with you and part of you, I can't rear myself away from the realness of my responsiblities." - The Bridges of Madison County, Robert James Waller

This is the language of The Hobbit, Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

When writing literary and mainstream fiction (that is targeted at the general public rather than a target audience), we need to go with what sounds real, even with a magical setting

Science fiction and fantasy can be more unreal, i.e. things like "May the Force Be With You."

In romance, magical dialogue takes on a differen form. It's magical in that it transcends the way we talk to each other in normal society. Magical in that all of it makes perfect sense and is said in such eloquent langauge that we marvel at it while at the same time knowing that if we are left to ourselves, we would say something absolutely banal.

Cryptic Dialogue

"You know, the condom is the glass slipper of our generation. You slip it on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night, then you throw it away. The condom, I mean. Not the stranger." - Fight Club, Chuck Palahniuk

This is the dialogue in literary and religious stories that dealw ith abstract ideas and vague concepts and has double meanings. Readers aren't meant to understand theses right away.

These bits of dialogue plant sublimnal messages in the reader's mind that help communicate the theme later on, ultimately making sense.

Cryptic dialogue is difficult to do well. If we're not careful, we'll end up sounding preachy, moralistic and dogmatic.

You need to be able to view the world in different perspectives.

Descriptive Dialogue

The literary, fantasy and historical story often relies on dialogue for worldbuilding (expplaining history, magic rules, etc.)

The author's goal in descriptive dialogue is to provide the reader with information. However, the character's goal cannot be sacrificed for the author's. Dialogue can still have tension and suspense and can be inserted into a scene of action so the story doesn't bog down while the readers get some info.

Shadowy Dialogue

In shadowy dialogue, the character's job is to keep the reader suspended in a state of terror/suspense. Then you periodically tighten and loosen the tension.

The key here is uncertainty. The reader cannot trust the speaker, so we're always questioning him, wondering whether he's speaking truthfully or is presenting the full picture.

Keep the tone as dark of possible, using action and background as supporting tools.

Make it cryptic, or even better, offering an omnious threat of what is to come.

Provocative Dialogue

This is the type of dialogue that conveys the theme, talking about the "universla truth" your book is trying to convey.

Readers like to be challenged in their thinking, provoked to consider other ways of thinking, and shaken up in their belief systems with a fresh perspective about the world.

Consider this example from To Kill A Mockingbird:

"...but there is one way in this country in which all men are created equal - there is one humna institution that makes a pauper the equal of a Rockfeller, the stupid man the equal of an Einstein, and the ignornant man the equal of any college president."

There is no way we can read this and not think about something that is bigger than our daily lives.

Make your readers squirm, and shock them out of their comfort zones.

Uncencored Dialogue

Uncencored dialogue in YA stories are of young people, but that doesn't mean it's filled with hip-hop words and slag.

While adults cencor themselves when they speak, teenagers haven't yet learned that skill so their dialogue is more raw, edgy and honest.

Readers of YA novels expect realism, so make it as authentic as possible. The last thing we want to is for our characters to be brash and honest, but NOT sound like they've just stepped out of Planet Way Cool.

For example:

"What if he doesn't like me back?" "You are too much of a chicken to do anything aboutit but mope."

As an adult, how often do you admit fear of rejection out loud to another, or call out your friend to her face? In YA-type of dialogue though, we can just write what comes into these characters' minds.

So that sums up the different types of dialogue. Consider the nature of your plot, what your readers and the genre of the story you are writing to choose an appropriate way for your characters to speak!

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[creepychan08]

Yandere Thranduil x Reader

It wasn't supposed to end up like this. You heart's desire becoming a nightmare.

And now there's no way home.

"Thranduil, you can't keep me here. Sooner or later I must return home." You once again plead your case as Thranduil frowned and hold both your hands protectively. But lately it feels like his gentle touches were slowly turning like handcuffs chaining you to him, unable to escape his grasp.

"Meleth nin (My love) please, this is your home. Have I not treated you well? Tell me what more can I do to make you stay by my side?" 

His grip tightened, not in a hurtful way, but just enough to prove his desperation for your continued presence in his kingdom.

"Its not that at all. You have been truly kind to me and for that I am eternally grateful. But I have my family waiting for me. I miss them Thranduil. Terribly." Your eyes glistened with unshed tears and his gaze softened, drawing you closer in an embrace. You welcomed the comfort he provided and lean your head almost close to his chest, the part you can only reach due to your unfortunate stature.

"Have you found some other way to return to your world?"

"How could I when you took away that book and refused to let me out of your kingdom?" The bitter tone of your voice breaks the moment of tranquility when you remembered it was him who didn't allow you to leave and travel to Rivendell to seek help from Gandalf.

Though your tone was bitter, you felt him relaxed more against your embrace as if relieved.

"You know there are threats coming from the orcs resurfacing in the forest. I can't very well allow my beloved to travel and place yourself in harm's way. No, you will stay here with me." His fingers slowly brush down your hair as you feel your anger boil inside.

"I will not allow you to keep me in here like a trophy! No more! I will go out and discover the way back- back to my real home- if you won't help me." 

Thranduil grit his teeth in frustration as he roughly tilt your head up to look at him. His eyes fierce and burning as it stare straight to your soul and your composure faltered, realizing how large he is compared to you and the power he has to crush you any time.

"I will say it again. You won't leave my side forever. You are mine as I am yours."

A whimper unconsciously left your lips as you began to fear and tremble before him. The dominance he was radiating made you feel weak, unable to do anything but submit to his will.

Upon hearing that helpless sound, his seething expression was immediately wiped off, dark glint in his eyes returning to a soft crystal blue filled with worry and regret when he behold the terror he accidentally inflicted on his beloved.

"My starlight, I am so sorry. Please forgive this ignorant King from his careless actions. I did not mean to make you afraid of me. That was the last thing I ever wanted." The sorrow in his voice made you want to reach out and comfort him.

You remembered how it all started. 

*Flashback*

Being a fan of The Hobbit trilogy movie, you were immediately captivated by the ElvenKing, Thranduil. The daily occurence in your life involves imagining random scenarios and plots with him and deeply wishing to somehow be transported in Middle Earth to meet him. And one day it did come true.

You have no idea of your last memory of how you came to this new world. Whether you were killed by a truck driver and get isekai'd, or if you were just dreaming or worse case in a coma, you have no idea how you are actually faring in the real world. But there was a portal which immediately closed as soon as your feet step into the grounds of the forest of Mirkwood.

Obviously you were taken by the patrolling group of elves and presented to Thranduil. It was not love at sight as you were already crushing on him way back on Earth but it sure did made your heart jumped with excitement as you eagerly and honestly answered each one of his questions.

You were detained in the dungeons for some time as the ElvenKing pondered on your statement to see if you were just lying to get yourself out of this mess. Perhaps it is dark magic then to how you were transported to this world? Are you a threat? But somewhere deep down in his cold heart, he could feel the sincerity radiating off you. And there was something else too- something foreign but pleasant that he felt when he first talked with you.

After careful consideration, Thranduil finally released you from prison and transferred you to a well-furnished room. He was still unsure of what to do with you. Strangely enough, the thought of assigning you to be a servant, a maid, cook, or a warrior didn't sit well with him so he decided to treat you as a guest and get to know you better.

As he did, he finds himself slowly falling for you. Unlike the other elleths (women elves), you possess kindness and genuine concern for other people. You interacted with his guards and other servants with much respect and he saw them slowly warming up to you. Everyday, he would look forward to seeing you first thing in the morning as your smile immediately brightens his day. And during the evening after he finish his work early, he would asks you to walk with him in the gardens.

It was no surprise when he ends up falling head over heels in love. He started properly courting you and sending expensive gifts everyday.

"You know you don't have to send me all these stuff, Thranduil. Its too expensive"

"Nonsense. I am the King and I can give you everything you deserve and more. Unless.. do you not like them? I can have another jewel be made to fit your taste-"

"No! No need, I really like this one. Thank you, Thranduil" You smiled at him gratefully and the corner of his lips lifted up as he stare at you.

"Anything for you, my starlight" He draws his arms open and gently pulled you to his embrace, his robe covering your form as you lean you head on his chest.

You wished those moments would have lasted more.

Thranduil was a gentle lover. Always kind. Always patient. Always caring towards you. He never once raised his voice at you and you greatly appreciated it. But as the days go by, you noticed him getting more possessive and obsessive over you.

"We were just talking! He is your guard long before I came here and he is just my friend" You defended yourself as Thranduil warned you against talking to one of his royal guards.

"I do not like the way he looks at you, meleth nin. You are mine, don't forget that. He should know his place."

"Everyone knows we are together so stop being suspicious of other elves! I am not fond of the way you're acting right now. I will leave you to cool your head first."

As you turn to leave, his arms reach out to wrap around your waist as he hug you from behind. His head bowed low so as to breath in the scent of your hair to calm him down.

"No, don't leave please. I am sorry, my love. I am just afraid of losing you."

You sighed, feeling your heart soften. You turn to face him again and saw the insecurities and doubt swirling in his eyes.

"Now what brought my King such worries? Haven't I told you I only have eyes for you? That my heart beats only for you?" You cup his cheek as he closed his eyes and lean towards your touch.

"I know and I believe you. Sometimes, I just can't help but fear that you'll find someone better than me. I can't live without you, YN"

"You'll always have me Thranduil. My heart belongs only to you." You reassured, hugging him tightly to show your devotion.

Maybe you shouldn't have promised that as months passed and you soon discover a way to open the portal again back to your real world while browsing the library. But you don't understand some of the text written as it was in Elvish language and from what you can read, it also needs the spells only casted by wizards.

"Thranduil, I finally found a way to return back to my world!" You excitedly said as you barge to his throne room, while carrying the book.

His eyes widened and he immediately walked down the stairs of his throne towards you.

"What did you say, my love?" The cutting edge of his tone failed to make its way to your ears as you were excitedly thinking of how soon you can probably go home once this works.

"I said I found a way to open the portal again to my world! But I need some help with the Elvish language and Gandalf as well to complete the steps here." You showed him the book and the pages where it was located.

He was quiet for a while and politely asked for the book. As you gave it to him, he immediately throws it to the ground and asked his servant to seal it in the forbidden section of the library.

"No! Why did you do that?!" You screamed, feeling betrayed by his action. You tried to get back the book but he tightly hold you against him before carrying you towards his bedroom as you continue to resist.

Once he locked the door, he put you down on his bed as you glare at him.

"How could you do that? That was my only way home!"

 His eyes hardened, frown marring his features.

"Exactly. I won't have you leaving me alone here, YN. You promised that I'll always have you, didn't you? And I promised to be yours forever"

You frozed as you remember the promise you said to him months ago. You meant it. You did. But that was before you learned that there is still a way back to your real world after giving up for so long. However, you did promised him and you can't go back on your word.

Bowing your head in shame, you nodded. "Yes, I did. I remember my oath that day, Thranduil." A feeling of frustration and mixed feelings made its way to your heart.

"You know I love you. I do. I just miss my family so much. I wonder what they are doing in my world. I wonder if they are grieving over me or still patiently hoping for my return. Am I selfish, my love?" You looked up at him as tears stream down your cheeks.

Thranduil felt his heart clench as he saw your sorrow. He can't stand to see the anguish in your eyes as it overflows with your tears. He gathered you in his arms and let you cry against his shoulders.

"I'm here, meleth nin. I'm here. Please don't cry." He whispered comforting words and before long, you felt drowsy and fall asleep in his hold.

Thranduil carefully put you in the bed and covered you with blanket. He placed a kiss on your forehead before leaving the room.

From that day on, he decreed an order that you are not allowed to leave his kingdom and that anyone who try to help you escape will be executed.

*End of Flashback*

"You've changed Thranduil" You gaze at him with such disappointment that he falters for a moment.

"No, please don't say that meleth nin. Don't look at me like that. I love you. I can't let you out of my grasp. I can't let you go. Ever." He pulled you closer and tilted your chin so you were looking straight at him.

The sight made you tremble. His eyes which were once full of adoration and pure love for you were now filled with dark obsession.

"Resist me no more, my starlight. Stay here. I will take care of you. I will love and worship you forever." 

He back you slowly into the bed and you didn't notice until you trip and lay sprawled against his bedsheets in a vulnerable state.

You tried to get up but he lightly pushed you down so he towers over you.

"No, no, I have to return home. I need to see my family again. I can still come back here Thranduil. I won't leave you forever." You tried to reassure your lover.

Shadows loomed in his face and when he finally look at you, something dark and dangerous radiated from his being.

You gasped, crawling away from him towards the center of the bed as he followed after you. You grab his pillow to defend yourself.

"Okay- stop. Don't get any closer, Thranduil. You're scaring me."

The blank look in his eyes shifted to that of a predator finally catching its prey as he reach you. A smile of dark insanity painted on his lips. He take hold of the pillow separating you two and throws it to the side.

"You know, I've always wanted to marry you, my starlight. In our culture there are two ways one can get married. First is by traditional exchange of vows and the other-" He paused, pushing you down once more as he hovered above you. "-is by being one in body, two souls bonded forever. If I may be honest, I much prefer the latter."

His fingers slowly slid down your body, touch as light as feather as it passes through your neck, the valley of your breast, down to your stomach and settling on your lower abdomen.

Your breath hitched as you watch him, goosebumps rising on you skin as you feel your heart thumping loudly.

"We will be one tonight, my love. And I will plant my seed inside your fertile womb. Since you miss your family so much, we will have one of our own- a much bigger family. We will have a dozen or more elflings running around the kingdom. And you will soon forget that silly ambition in your mind. I told you before. You won't leave me. Ever. For you are mine and I am yours."

With that he sealed his promise with a passionate kiss as he consume your being, leaving you breathless and gasping for more.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I didn't expect this oneshot to be longer than what I originally planned lol. Anyway, I've been obsessing over Thranduil for weeks now and I thought if he'd be the one going yandere for me, I would immediately give in 😂

But yeah unfortunately he's just a fictional character sooo! Anyway thanks for reading up this far.

Hope you have a great day and stay safe guys! :)))

[strangersteddierthings]

Fic Masterpost

General Fic Tag Ao3 Account - All fics with [Ao3] next to them can be found here. Reference post for Steve's BMW

Bad News First, Eddie - Completed [Ao3] Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Final Part

Shovel Talk(s) - Completed [Ao3] Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Final Part

Porcelain Steve - Completed [Ao3] Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Final Part

What's Eight Plus Seven? - On Going - [Ao3] Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

The Interview - Completed [Ao3] The Interview (Part One) The Response (Part Two) The Conversation (Part Three) Untitled Song - A The Interview Tie-In Fic [Ao3]

No Regrets - On Going Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Good People - Completed [Ao3] Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

My Default’s Self-Destruct (Oh, I’m Not Used to Normal) - On Going Part One

Envy, Baby. Written for Rustypeoplekillz for the Steddie Summer Exchange 2024. Eddie makes a new friend and Steve spirals about it.

Steve and Robin talk about how Steve wants to be romanced, instead of always doing the romancing.

Eddie's over dramatic, Steve talks him down, and they're okay in the end :)

Steve reflects on how other people make the decisions in his life and decides, y'know what? No. Fuck that and fuck you.

Beg You to Love Me - Steve and Eddie talk for the first time two and a half years after they break up. [Ao3]

Steve pines for Eddie and carves a pumpkin for the first time. He is completely normal about both things. [Ao3]

Eddie left, and has to face the consequences of that

Steve has great parents and goes to therapy. Too bad he forgot to tell his friends that [Ao3]

Middle School Meet Cute? [Ao3]

One sentence and one phone call are all it takes for Steve to realize he needs to go after what he wants [Ao3]

Steve's sad, Eddie's an (accidentally on-purpose) jerk, and the miscommunication gets solved? [Ao3]

Steve gets Vecna'd and a terrible rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody saves him

Angsty Ella Enchanted AU

Steve finds it funny, the differences between him and Eddie.

#81. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain?” [Ao3]

#23. “Just pretend to be my date.” and #60. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.” [Ao3]

#60. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to seduce me." [Ao3]

#13. "I dare you to kiss me"

Requested by Anon - Eddie catches Billy throwing Steve around in the locker room; it leads to an unintentional deescalation of the situation and a conversation Eddie's surprised to have. [Ao3]

Steddie Week 2023: Day 1: Pining [Ao3]

Anon Prompt - Robin brags about her boyfriend to Steve. He's a little jealous, because he wants to brag about his own boyfriend but doesn't know if Robin is safe to tell that too. Until, whoops, turns out Robin's BF and Steve's BF are the same boyfriend. [Ao3]

Steve doesn't want to be put on a pedestal. Eddie doesn't understand, and tries to reassure Steve. [Ao3]

Eddie's friends try to prove Steve's cheating on him. Eddie doesn't take kindly to them trying to ruin his relationship for no reason.

Plot Idea I’ll never fully flush out or write but gotta get out of my head or it’ll never let me know peace again. It’s basically Steve sent from the future going all John Wick.

Steve-focused ficlet exploring the idea of Steve becoming a Mean Girl because he learned his tactics from Carol Perkins rather than Tommy, and how he regrets the results of that.

Domestic Bliss fluff fic that ends in a loving blow job. Minors DNI. [Ao3]

Childhood Best Friends AU where Steve and Eddie agree to learn the elvish script from The Hobbit so they can pass notes and no one can read them. Things get a little messy when Eddie moves away with no notice but Steve takes it upon himself to learn Elvish anyway. [Ao3]

Steve doesn't think before he all but crawls seductively into Eddie's lap accidentally. There's also not much thinking once he realizes what he's done, or in the aftermath of it. [Ao3]

Steve, Gareth, and Chrissy Are Cousins [Ao3]

Steve, Gareth, and Chrissy are all cousins, and Gareth doesn't want anyone to know that. For his street cred.

The Steve, Gareth, and Chrissy are cousins AU gets sad (Sad AU Part 1).

Steve realizes he's the only adult left In The Know in Hawkins; Gareth wants answers, one way or another (Sad AU Part 2).

Steve doesn't attend a funeral; Gareth goes with Jason&Co to Reefer Ricks (Sad AU Part 3).

The gang arrives at Skull Rock and Steve learns Gareth's now involved. Robin learns the truth (Sad AU Part 4).

Vecna gives Steve the vision and forces him to make a choice (Sad AU Part 5).

Everyone learns they are cousins now and it goes well. Gareth makes his own plan to save the day. (Sad AU Part 6).

Wayne joins the fight and Gareth ensures that Max gets saved (Sad AU Part 7).

The cousins reconcile. Max and Steve don't (yet). It's as happy an end as a Sad AU can get (Sad AU Final Part).

Time Travel Fix It Fic

Class of '85 [Ao3]

Save Max [Ao3]

September Prompts 2023

Coffee Smell ○ Horizon ○ Foggy Mornings ○ Jukebox ○ "Kiss me or leave me" ○ "Did you lie to me?" ○ Bonfire ○ Recipe Book ○ Gas Station

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Ready to rec some awesome fics that I read this month!! Feel free to add on with some of your own Bagginshield recs. 😁

April 2024 Rec List

G Rated:

A Dwarven Beauty by bebel_bee (Complete, 4K, 1ch.)- You have to love cultural differences where it comes to the dwarven and hobbit concepts of beauty. Bilbo is getting a bunch of odd comments on his looks that he thinks are derogatory. This is such a fun, quick read with fun misunderstandings and a lovely getting together scene.

Green-Handed by lotus0kid (Complete, 41K, 20ch.)- This was a really fun magical hobbits fic. Under certain conditions, hobbits go "green-handed" which means they can grow anything through touch and that's how Bilbo finds himself one morning. The ending of this fic just gets me with how absolutely enamored Thorin is with Bilbo and his gift.

Ive found Frodo...and he found you? by Lucigoo89 (Complete, 2K, 1ch.)- I need to preface this by saying my house had an entire den of fifteen skunks living under it that we tried to relocate...I absolutely despise skunks. But I gave this a chance for Lucigoo and it was as predicted, completely adorable. Little skunk Frodo wanders off and when Bilbo goes after him, he finds him in a den of badgers, one of whom he knows rather intimately.

T Rated:

Burning Crowns by Morg47 (Complete, 9K, 2ch.)- I read the first chapter when this was just a one-shot craving more and the author didn't disappoint! Infamous thief Bilbo helps the rightful king of Erebor in his assassination attempt of Smaug. I love seeing a confident BAMF Bilbo, and apparently Thorin does too.

Frozen Heart by snowmissus (soul_of_blaze) (WIP, 14K, 5ch.)- This is such a unique AU with a compelling set up. Bilbo has been tasked by Yavanna to try to help Erebor out of its frozen state, and by extension its king. Very fairytale-esque with some great characterizations and interactions, I can't wait for more!

Imbalance by northerntrash (Complete, 10K, 1ch.)- This story genuinely shocked me! In this Hades/Persephone AU, it is Bilbo who is Lord of the Underworld and Thorin who is a plant life god. As cracky as that sounds, it actually legitimately works in this AU as Bilbo and Thorin rely on each other to make themselves better.

There and Not Back Again (or, The Saving of Erebor) by femmbingley (WIP, 178K, 52ch.)- There’s so much to say about this fic. Post-BOTFA dwarven politics where Bilbo has assumed the duties of the consort which makes things more difficult for Dain. I really love the characterizations and I just can’t get enough of this fic!

to feel you like a knife by queerofthedagger (Complete, 23K, 2ch.)- Thorin's POV absolutely shook me at the beginning as he describes seeing his three loved one laid up in cots. After Bilbo saves Thorin's life, he wakes up to find his memories prior to Laketown are gone. It was so well paced and absolutely delicious in angst with a happy ending.

M Rated:

Backs to the Wall by Conkers (WIP, 124K, 24ch.)- I held off on this fic for a long time, not because I was worried I wasn’t going to enjoy it, but because I knew how much it would have me foaming at the mouth. Missing the deadline, the Company splits up at Laketown with Thorin, Dwalin, Nori, and Bilbo remaining to earn some coin. I’m beside myself with the gentle, sweet moments of pre-Bagginshield that have me screaming.

E Rated:

The Burden of Choice by Fantasyinallforms (Complete, 56K, 12ch.)- I went absolutely feral over this fic! Bilbo and Thorin are arranged to marry each other, neither knowing who the other is, and they escape in the night and begin to travel together. There were just so many emotions throughout this fic, it was so well written!

The Riven Crown by BeautifulFiction (Complete, 254K, 31ch.)- It was time for another read of this wonderful story. Bilbo stays in Erebor to see them through the winter only to find himself in a courtship with the king and a plot to see Thorin off the throne. This is just the ultimate Bilbo remains in Erebor fic and definitely worth the read if you haven't already.

Theft by Erinye (Complete, 124K, 40ch.)- Another epic that I had to reread this month. For his part in the alliance, Thorin demands Bilbo be returned to the mountain to be tried for his crimes in stealing the Arkenstone. Although the deaths of Fili and Kili break my heart in this fic, the rediscovery of Bilbo and Thorin's relationship through sex and comfort makes this a great read.

[prpfz]

👑💞 — twentyone plus mun. they/them pronouns.

info . . . only looking for historical/fantasy ( think a song of ice and fire , dragon age , lotr / hobbit , skyrim , vikings , etc ) right now. bring me your royals , your highborn gals , your lgbtq+ muses. I have a m oc I've been dying to use and work on. he can be adapted to fit into other verses , however I am primarily looking to write him against some kind of royal right now. the princess of a kingdom , highborn noble girl with a skewed view of the world , but i'm open to other muses as well. mxf is my ideal pairing right now ( or mxm with your muse being trans or is a softer , gentler type of m ). themes . . . the specific vibes i'd like to touch on include heavier themes ( dead 🕊️ including 🍪 , non/dub con , incest , and more ) , the mistreatment and struggles around being property , forced into roles , to wed and bear children , age gaps , and seeking freedom , escape , or otherwise. looking for a mixture of heavier and softer themes. this could mean kidnapping , violence , power imbalances , abuse , your muse seeking mine out as a form of s/h , to flee a forced marriage , and so on. i'd also really like this to imply some sort of stockholm syndrome type bond eventually, or maybe our ocs build a genuine bond together? are they soulmates? are they facing against the same enemy? unlikely friends? forced together to interact? there's endless possibilities, and i'd love to explore them. angst is beloved here , so please bear that in mind too! nsfw highly encouraged ( i only have a few limits ) , with a range of around 50:50 plot to smut to 80:20 plot to smut. kinks can be discussed privately! interested . . . leave a like , and I'll reach out!

give a like and anon will get back to you

[ironmandeficiency]

silly king

pairing: thorin oakenshield / half-elf!reader

word count: 1025

summary: silence is nigh but unobtainable with your joining of the company

req: Can I ask for 🎶 do doo do do 🎶 "FUCK!" with thorin oakenshield pls?

a/n: giving a MASSIVE hug to the darling and stupendous @nicole-lightfoot who beta’d this for me & helped me with writing the ending

none of the company believed they could find someone in all of arda that spoke as loud as sugar-rushed kíli or sang as cheerfully as bofur deep in his ale

you proved this assumption very wrong very quickly, loathing the silence that made you feel like your head was dipped in molasses

there was always some form of song flowing from your lips when your hands were too full to tap them to whatever song you’re hearing in your head, every footfall against the earth synchronized to the same tune (sometimes you skipped as you sang, hummed, or whistled, much to the disbelief of the others)

your joining of the company happened in rivendell. as a half-elf, there was only so much respite you could find in the last homely house, surrounded by what many (somewhat accurately) believed to be the uptight half of your bloodline. it was safe, yet stifling, and you felt akin to a caged bird yearning for the open sky

the presence of a half-elf in their company didn’t bother as many of the dwarrow as you believed it would. your jovial disposition rubbed off on them quickly, and soon you were joining several of them in a modified chorus of ‘that’s what bilbo baggins hates’ to coincide with more recent events of the quest

bilbo took the playful jabs with a grin, getting small bits of payback by “accidentally” knocking members of the company in the ankle with the walking stick you procured for him

bofur, nori, and the princes took to using you as a shield when they feared the hobbit was about to strike, laughter all around

despite the grim nature of what lay ahead of the company, you’d never had so much fun. it’s why you found such joy in your new companions, your new friends, because that’s what they were

you ignored the tense glances from the king under the mountain and his stalwart captain during these moments. there were vague ideas to be had of why the two royals saw you as a liability at best and a threat at worst, and many of them pertained to your blood

logic (and well-meaning princes) reminded them early on that you were of neither faction that caused such strife for the dwarves of erebor, and had proven yourself as a loyal member of the company ten times over

the distrust ended, but you could still tell they were wary of you even on a good day

in the beginning, your charming disposition and lackadaisical attitude had thorin seething. every smile and laugh and song boiled the blood in his veins. did you not take this quest seriously? was he saddled with a jingling fool of an elf by lord elrond as a plot against his mission?

now, months later, watching you dance with the princes in beorn’s fields, he realized just how faulty those thoughts were

kíli was riding fíli’s shoulders while you held his hands, the three of you playing merrily around to bofur and nori’s raunchy tune

thorin was sitting on a stump nearby when he heard your voice across the field, your laughter joining the silly little ditty

thorin knew better than to let himself grow distracted while cleaning his blades, but he was so lost in your merriment and sweet-sounding do-doos that he didn’t notice his hand moving wrong before it was too late

“FUCK!!”

his exclamation scared some of the local fauna away and startled several members of his company. fíli whipped around so fast to check on thorin that he forgot his brother was on his shoulders until he suddenly wasn’t, and the two princes found themselves toppled in the grass in a true dwarfling pile

you were on your knees in front of thorin before he could fully register the pain and embarrassment of slicing his finger on his own blade. your nimble hands held his wounded one gently, tending to the cut with precision

you gently cleaned his ill-gotten wound while he growled with all the dignity of a wet cat. “oh you silly king, just let me take care of you”

“this is all your doing.” you smiled at his facade, knowing that his grumpiness wasn’t actual malice and he was just frustrated at his own folly

you felt his gaze on your head while you threaded the needle. “tell me, my king, how exactly is this my fault?” the words were an almost teasing whisper, a small attempt to goad him into better spirits once again

in the distance, you could hear various members of the company whispering amongst themselves like a group of gossiping old biddies, and it took strong effort to not cackle in thorin’s face. he was already iffy about you tending to his little scratch, you didn’t want to jeopardize what pride he had left by calling attention to his nattering company

the small huff of exasperation that escaped him would have been mistaken for a wince by someone who didn’t know him. “you’re distracting. it’s difficult to get things done when you jaunt around with your heart on your sleeve and a song on your lips. you weren’t made for battle, nor for the hardships of the world, so i have to keep an eye on you lest you fall victim to your own nature.”

when thorin noticed you smiling at his chiding, he was not amused. this was exactly his point! you didn’t take his warnings seriously, which attested to how desperately you needed to heed them.

“thank you for your concern, thorin. it’s touching. but you must know by now that i don’t ‘jaunt around’ anyone i don’t feel safe with, i have at least a few skills in self-preservation, you know.” your voice was soft as you finished the last suture, securely wrapping the wound and taking a risk by placing a small kiss atop the bandages

he stared at you speechless, mouth gaping like a fish and cheeks ruddy. you give him a smile as you walk away, feeling every moment his eyes stayed on your back and hearing his personal scolding about keeping his head straight around you

[distinguisheddwarffriend]

My brain is FULL of TH fic ideas but I've already got 3 WIP and most of them are just "what if"s with no plot so I'll just post them here I guess and maybe some writing god hears me/ reads them and someone else actually uses them.

Here's Nr. 1:

Frerin did in fact NOT die at Azanulbizar but was transported into our modern world, sometime in the second half of the 19th century.

After some adjusting (industrialization is in full force but it's still not as 'bad' as it would be rn) he builds a life, him being a dwarf meaning that he ages extremely slowly compared to us lowly humans so he has to move after a while and again and again.

He lives in the UK, US, France, Germany, Italy, Finland.....

He fights in both world wars depending on where he lives during that time (WW1 on the German side, WW2 on the UK's), other than that he goes to university and works all kinds of jobs like policeman, fireman, soldier, teacher, carpenter,smith, weaver, factory worker, violinist etc etc etc

Around 1900 he meets this fella J R R Tolkien and befriends him, and after a time finds out that his friend is writing books about middle Earth, not only that, but one about his very own brother. Tolkien apparently is a seer of some kind because it's still almost a century until "The Hobbit" would happen (he does the math).

Frerin helps Tolkien with authenticity for his books, because the dude is smart and found out about Frerin after he corrected his Khuzdul one time too many.

Anyhow, after reading what will happen to his family, he becomes a mite bit obsessed with returning to Middle Earth and having ammased quite some wealth and with the help of some friends in high places starts founding various research projects into things like teleportation, multiverse, magic, alchemy, you name it. He also becomes a member of the Freemasons due to his occult knowledge.

In around 80 years there's almost no progress towards Frerin's goal of returning home, he does still have a research company but only a small group of mostly students works on the multiverse hypothesis, the rest does all kinds of stuff, technology, energy, whatever.

He has for the time being settled somewhere in Scandinavia, is a College Professor for Sociology and Political Science and volunteers as a social worker for troubled children.

He is fostering 2 or 3 children himself (ages 6 - 16) and has two grown up adopted children that still live & work with him (they found out about him), a guy & a lass ( both early twenties).

Somehow (don't ask I don't know) the whole household (meaning Frerin, his two young adult children, the foster children, his south American householder, her tiny dog and their personal Butler (more of a live-in family friend by now, think Niles from "The Nanny")) all get sucked into a portal or whatever end get spit out into Middle Earth.

Not at Ered Luin of course, that would be easy, no, but somewhere extremely inconvenient. The Lone lands, the Brown lands, Moria, something along the lines of "we are so fucked".

So now it is a few years (1-3, or the characters have too much time to become Mary-Sues), before the quest to Erebor, and they have to reach Thorin before then and somehow survive a world filled with orcs (and elves!) while juggling a 6 year old, a tiny & barky dog, a cliché Mamacita, a British butler, and Frerin's realisation that he has gotten much too used to modern convenience.

(my weak ass would probably include some romance between one/more than one of the original characters and the canon characters, I'm a sucker for Fili or Kili x OFC and rare pairings like KilixBifur or ThorinxNori and I want Frerin to date an elf or Bard I think.)

.... Does this sound like something you would read/write? I'd maybe try to write this with someone else, alone I don't dare to. What do y'all think?

[tathrin]

My little Tolkien-fic pet-peeve of the day? Writers calling elves, dwarves, or hobbits men or women in their* narration.

"Pippin shaded his eyes, squinting until the sight of the man walking up the road resolved itself into the familiar form of his cousin Merry..."

Hobbit. Just say Hobbit. You don't need to gender everything. Or if you must, then "Hobbit-lad" or "Hobbit-lass" how's that? Or person! Being! Individual! Literally any word that isn't an inaccurate use of the word "man" for someone who is not a man!

"Gimli looked up at the taller man and scoffed at the sight of Legolas's pointed ears, now drooping with dismay..."

See this one just sounds silly, doesn't it? Silly and also confusing! Because you've just called Legolas a man, but clearly you're talking about an elf or he wouldn't have pointed ears, now would he? And Gimli's a dwarf! So why did you say "man" at all? There are no men here! (Unless Aragorn is playing Third Wheel in the background I suppose, but that's neither here-nor-there right now.)

"Glorfindel turned upon the edge of the fountain and greeted the other man with a smile like a sunrise..."

No no no stop, they are not men. Neither of them are men. They're elves. That's kind of a big important plot element in fact, that the Firstborn and the Secondborn are distinct and sundered from one another, please don't call elves men it's weird and awkward and often confusing because then I'll think you're talking about "A Man" but no, you mean an elf but you said man and it's just so off-putting...

They're different species, guys! (This drives me nuts in scifi too. Stop with the humanocentricism! You're not the Galactic Empire!) Replace the word "man" with something else and see how silly it sounds. "Elephant," perhaps; or any other species that isn't the one you're actually talking about.

"Gimli looked up at the taller raccoon and scoffed..."

"Glorfindel greeted the other ant-eater with a smile like a sunrise..."

"The sight of the giraffe walking up the road resolved itself into his cousin Merry..."

See? Yeah, that's how inaccurate it feels to me every time I read the word "man" or "woman" when you're talking about somebody who is not a human. It's not something on the level of squick where I'll reverse out of a fic if I see it, no, but it absolutely is jarring enough to throw-off the rhythm and mood of the story, for me.

(And if I see it in the first line or so before I've gotten invested in the story...yeah. That'll get me out of a fic almost as fast as lack of paragraph-breaking.)

Because I'm such a sucker for world building, I suspect, and the fact that these are all different peoples with different cultures and capabilities and outlooks and understanding and history and everything is such an interesting and important aspect of Middle-earth to me...and lumping all these different folks into one thing like that as though gender is the most important and indeed only notable aspect of their identity, and overrides everything else about them is just weird. It doesn't make sense. And I do not like it.

(Exceptions obviously made for when the character's identity is being deliberately obscured or confused, and they are erroneously thought to be a human and then revealed as something else; that sort of thing is on purpose and thus is fine.)

(Also exceptions for folk like Arwen or Elwing or Elladan etc who straddle the line between species.)

Anyway thank you for coming to this session of Tathrin Whines About Little Things To Avoid Doing Productive Writing Today.

*none of these lines are actual examples taken from real fics; I made them up for this post. Please do not attach call-outs to actual fics or authors in the notes. No need to be mean!

But absolutely fell free to gripe along with me if this silly little world building detail bothers you too. Or laugh at me for being a ridiculous spec-fic nerd. I'm fine with that too!

[sungbeam]

nonidol!ji changmin x bff!fem!reader

after the death of his best friend, changmin’s been left to grieve and wallow. but when you suddenly come back to him in the form of a ghost, he realizes that this might be his chance to right some wrongs. (aka; changmin has seven days with your ghost to figure out why you’ve been returned to the land of the living.)

▷ genre, warnings. childhood friends au, you are literally dead./major character death, mentions of a car accident, implied past bullying, swearing, fluff, comedy as a coping mechanism, angst, comfort/hurt, grief and survivor’s guilt, so much crying that you might get tired, just telling you now it is not meant to be a romantic plot but there r hints bc i’m a sucker, i’m not religious but ur a ghost(?), getting over one’s best friend’s death is not easy folks so that’s why y/n goes ghost B)

▷ total wc. 16.8k </3

▷ permanent taglist. @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @ethereal-engene

a/n: hey hello! ik this prob won’t get a lot of interaction bc it’s a tbz fic and non-romantic main, but it would mean a lot to me if u reblogged and shared this :’) otherwise, hope u enjoy, and here's some mood songs: yellow (coldplay), last (dvwn), & let's hurt tonight (onerepublic)

DAY ZERO

JUYEON wasn’t really the best at approaching people in this way. There was something about sad people that made him feel helpless, and the fact that this was Ji Changmin, one of his closest friends, the helplessness had collapsed into a sinkhole in the pit of his stomach. Even Chanhee, someone who was arguably closer to Changmin, sat silently after Kevin’s proposed question.

Kevin lifted the straw of his coffee to his lips, eyes glued to a crack in the table they surrounded in the local coffee shop by the school campus. “So… no one has any ideas?”

Sad, drooping heads.

Chanhee blew a puff of air out from his lips as he propped his chin onto his palm. There seemed to be a permanent frown etched into his face nowadays, not far from how Changmin looked. “I wish that we knew how to get through to him, y’know? I think if he would just let us, then we could at least be there with him.”

“He’s grieving, Chanhee,” Kevin replied firmly, but not unkindly. “If he wants alone time, then he deserves that time to himself. But I do think that he needs to come out of his apartment. I mean… his parents will not be happy when they find out he’s skipped almost a month’s worth of classes.”

It had been about a month since that dreadful night you died. Changmin and his friends had all awoken to the news that there had been an Accident. It was on the corner of two streets, on the opposite side of campus, that you had been run down by a drunk driver on your way home from a late shift. Since then, Changmin refused to crawl out of his apartment, insisting on hoarding himself away. He’d only come out of the apartment to let Gana frolic and do his business, but would then proceed to go straight back to his hobbit hole.

This was a far cry from the Changmin they knew—the one who would drag his friends out to the permanent Haunted House attraction in the middle of July, the one who refused to return to his own apartment until he nailed a dance move just right. But the day you died seemed to be the day that Changmin had as well.

Juyeon chewed on his bottom lip, knee bouncing up and down fervently with anxious energy. He hated feeling helpless. As Kevin and Chanhee continued to talk themselves aloud through their own thoughts, Juyeon pulled his phone out from his pocket and sent Changmin a series of texts. When he finished, he shoved the phone under his thigh to keep from constantly checking the screen for disappointment.

“…could always call up Sunwoo and drive him up here. I’m sure he would gladly intrude to cuddle—”

Juyeon was suddenly yanked back out from tuning in when he felt his phone vibrate. His eyes widened slightly in surprise as he watched the little bubbles appear under Changmin’s name.

juyo: hey changminnie~ wanna come get bbq with us tonight? it’s on me !

juyo: ice cream afterward on me too

kyu: okay

kyu: what time?

———

Changmin didn’t know what possessed him to come out of his apartment to hang out with his friends. For far too long, he had refused to hang out with anyone else besides Gana and his lonesome. But something in him ignited at the sight of Juyeon’s texts and offers; perhaps it had been his stomach and dwindling bank account.

Nevertheless, he told Juyeon that he would meet him there, and he wasn’t about to flake on his word.

He exhaled a haggard sigh from his mouth, the breath turning to visible air in front of him. His nose and cheeks were pink from the cold nipping at his skin, but the sensation felt nice, felt normal. He ducked his head, puffy and tired eyes hidden beneath a red baseball cap, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark hoodie as he walked across the street to reach the lively and warm embrace of the bbq restaurant.

He spied his trio of friends lingering just outside the door, small smiles on their faces as they talked about something amongst themselves. Chanhee threw his head back in a laugh at something Juyeon said, and Changmin suddenly felt out of place without even being there. What if he was just going to ruin the mood? He didn’t want them to be sad or walk around eggshells around him. What if he cried, just out of nowhere? That would definitely ruin the mood—

Before he could swivel on his heel and turn back, Kevin caught his eyes from down the road, his face lighting up. He raised a hand to wave him over, catching the attention of the other two who turned to look. “Yo, Changmin! You made it, man.”

Changmin tried for a smile, his shoulders relaxing. This was fine; he was going to be okay. “Hey guys.”

Chanhee immediately rushed over to him and crushed him in an embrace. “I can’t believe I’ve missed you,” he lamented into Changmin’s jacket.

Changmin chuckled, affectionately patting his friend’s head. “Well, I’m not surprised. I missed you, too, though.”

When Chanhee pulled back, there was an expression of stark disbelief on his face. But before he could point out that Changmin actually admitted to missing him, Changmin was greeted by Kevin and Juyeon.

Juyeon pulled him into a small side hug. “How’re you feeling?”

Changmin swallowed. The tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and his inner voice was shouting at him to hold back. He sucked in a breath. “I’m… I’m okay. How’re you guys?”

There was an exchange of looks between the other three as if they didn’t believe him or they were all silently trying to figure out what best to respond with. Kevin was the one who said, “We’re doing okay, too. Come on; our table’s ready.”

And that was perhaps the very response that Changmin was hoping for—and yet, at the same time, he wondered if he would have liked it better if they called him out for lying instead.

———

Changmin stumbled into his apartment, hand flapping against the wall blindly to find the lightswitch. His dark bangs hung in his eyes as the lights flickered on. He winced, digging his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes to stave the brightness. As he kicked the front door shut, he heard the jingling of Gana’s collar as his pup came up to circle around his legs in warm greeting.

He bent down slightly to scratch behind Gana’s ears. “Hi, boy. Yeah, I’m back.”

He let out yet another sigh and dragged himself over to the couch, collapsing onto the cushion dented with the imprint of his butt from heavy use. Gana leapt onto the couch beside him, dutifully taking residence on the cushion and resting his fluffy head in Changmin’s lap.

For the first time in a month, Changmin had smiled, laughed even. He didn’t like admitting that it had made him feel good; he didn’t like that he could be happy when you’d died so soon ago. The devil perched on his shoulder whispered insecurities into his ear and that high he had been on while out with Chanhee, Kevin, and Juyeon disappeared. Replacing it was that gut-wrenching guilt in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t even describe the deep sadness that fell over him like a tsunami wave. Everything had come to deafening silence, like when he would dunk his head beneath water. Everything became muted… he was slipping again.

Changmin leaned his head against the back of the couch and let the tears trail down the sides of his face. He was trying to breathe—inhale, exhale, inhale—but he would only choke on the sounds of his sobs.

Gana crawled into his lap now, warm mass like a hug. It was the only thing grounding Changmin to reality now.

Do you even deserve to be happy? He wondered to himself, shifting to sit up and wipe the tears from his cheeks with the backs of his hands. Did you deserve to go out and be happy when Yn can’t?

Changmin swore under his breath, angrily pawing at his face again, willing the waterworks to stop. “God, stop crying, you fucking wimp,” he growled at himself.

It wouldn’t help; of course, it wouldn’t help.

His frame trembled and quaked and… and…

Changmin gently moved Gana off of his legs so he could make his way over to the little side table beside his TV. It used to be where he stashed yours and his favorite movies, video games, and board games. But now, it had become home to pictures of you and him, tealights, and your favorite plushie that he kept from when your parents asked to meet with him.

All of it. Why was it here if only to remind him of the person he treasured most lost to the cruel hand of fate?

He collapsed before the table, knees pressed between his body and the cold, hard ground. He clasped his hands together, tears pouring down his face. “If I could just see you again, Yn… just one more time,” he managed to choke out. “Just one more time. Please.” Would that even be enough?

DAY ONE

LIGHT filtered in through the shutters of the apartment windows and directly into Changmin’s eyes, but what woke him up was the incessant sound of Gana’s barking. Changmin groaned, body rolling around onto its side as he reached for his phone charging on the nightstand. It was ten in the morning, well past his first lecture of the day’s allotted time.

He sniffled, hand reaching up to gently touch his puffy eyelids. God, eight hours and he still woke up sore as—

“Jesus, it’s still a pigsty in here.”

Changmin froze. Gana kept barking.

He blinked. He must have been hearing things, because he couldn’t have just heard your voice say that from out in the living room.

Changmin shook his head. He really needed some coffee or something. Now he was hallucinating you? How much worse could his mental health get? Maybe he really should have accepted that offer from your parents when they’d asked him if they could pay for any counseling services he needed. He rose from the bed with a yawn, arms stretching up over his head.

Gana had stopped barking at this point, and Changmin mentally thanked whatever it was that was making his dog go mad for…

The thought ran dry in his head like words dying upon his tongue. He stepped over the threshold between his bedroom and the main living space, and his eyes landed on something awfully peculiar… Not something, rather someone. You. He was staring right at you leaning down to scratch Gana behind the ears.

His heart leapt into his throat and his eyes fluttered shut. This could not be happening.

“Holy shit!” Your exclamation made his eyes shoot open. You were gaping at him now as if you were surprised to see him. “You’re supposed to be at class!”

He couldn’t help but retort in his own defense, “And you’re supposed to be dead!” But here you were, in the flesh—in an old T-shirt from your high school Science Olympiad team and comfortable sweats—petting his dog.

Changmin grasped his bedroom door frame, free hand flying to hold his head. “Oh my god, I’m going insane. What was in that ice cream last night?”

There was no plausible reason for you to be standing in his living room right now. Not when you had been dead for an entire month. He had been at the funeral, had sobbed his heart out over the pile of dirt they’d shoveled over your grave. A prickling sensation came to the corners of his eyes and he willed himself to not start crying again. He didn’t even know he had tears left to cry after the session he’d had last night.

“Changmin.”

He shuddered.

Your voice was softer this time as you slowly moved away from Ghana. “Changmin, it’s Yn Ln. You know me.”

He peeked out from behind his hand and sniffled. Nevermind, he was definitely crying. “Stop,” he rasped, shaking his head. “Stop. This is just a figment of my imagination. Yn is not really here; she’s definitely—” His voice broke and he let go of the door jamb so he could bury his face into the palms of both of his hands. He let out a shaky breath. “I need coffee.”

He averted his eyes from looking in your direction as he shook some sense into his head and headed straight for the kitchen to start the coffee pot. He could hear Gana’s collar jingle as he bounded after him.

You could only stand there where you had been before and watch with sad eyes as he kept his back to you the entire time the coffee brewed.

One scaldingly bitter cup of brew later, Changmin leaned his back against the counter to face you. His face was set in a permanent grimace from the gross after taste of that hot bean juice, but the slight buzzing sensation at the back of his head was definitely a sign of alertness. Okay, now to solve all his problems.

“So you’re a ghost?” Were the first words from his mouth.

Your face dropped into a deadpan that was so you, Changmin almost broke out into hysterical giggles. “That’s your first question?”

“It’s a very valid question.”

You sighed. “Yes. Sure, I’m a ghost.”

He narrowed his eyes on you, lifting the mug in his hand to his lips, then frowning when he realized it was empty. “Okay, but how do I know you’re really Yn? How do I know you’re not just a projection of my crippling depression, and that you’re actually my Yn?” He didn’t know where the my had come from, but he was going a little too insane to care.

You made a face at him, nose wrinkling up cutely. He could see you in all the little mannerisms, and to be honest, he wouldn’t be surprised at all if you turned out to be simply a figment of his imagination because he knew you that well. He could probably resurrect you into an animated character if he knew how to animate in the first place. “Changmin, how am I supposed to prove to you I’m actually Yn? You can’t just recognize me?”

Maybe his brain was just tuning into work mode to block out all of the emotions. At the moment, he let his playful, curious side win his body over. “I dunno,” he grinned. “Ooh! What is my middle name?”

“You don’t have a middle name.”

“What is my favorite movie?” He stopped short, his pointer finger tapping his chin. “Wait, that’s too obvious. When’s my birthday?”

You squinted at him in disbelief. “So your favorite movie is too obvious, but your birthday, which is on your birth certificate, isn’t?”

He huffed. “Okay, what did I wear to Juyeon’s fourteenth birthday party then?”

Your hand moved to hold your forehead. “Changmin, how the fuck am I supposed to remember that.”

“THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT YN WOULD SAY!”

“THAT’S BECAUSE I AM YN, YOU IDIOT.”

When Changmin doubled over himself in laughter, your lips settled into a thin line. He thunked his mug onto the counter with a concerningly loud crash so he could brace himself against something with one hand. (Maybe he really was going insane.)

You fixed him with a look. “Are you done messing around, Ji Changmin?”

His eyes, squinting from all his laughter and the biggest grin on his face, twinkled from where he peered over the counter at you. The sight almost brought a smile back to your face. “You’re just fun to mess with, Yn-ie.”

———

Reality came crashing down on Changmin in as little as five minutes.

“So… you’re a ghost?”

This time, when he posed the question, it was smaller and mellow, his body settled onto the couch with his legs pulled up to his chest as he peered up at you through watery eyes and a childlike disposition. Gana had retreated into his bedroom to snuggle into his bedsheets, leaving only you and Changmin in the main living space. You were perched on the wooden coffee table across from where he sat on the couch. You didn’t have it in you to be annoyed at him when he looked so… looked so unlike himself. This wasn’t the Changmin you knew before: ballsy, smiley, unafraid. There was something so blanched about him, like he was washed over in some kind of filter. It was unnerving.

You bit your upper lip, hands drumming against your legs. “Yeah.”

He stared at you for a moment, then pointed at the TV remote next to you. “Move that.”

“Pardon?”

“Move it,” he repeated.

You moved it.

“Why aren’t you just phasing through shit if you’re a ghost?” He asked, hands tightening around his knees.

His logic, or well—some semblance of logic—was trying to help him process this, that much you understood. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I was literally just manifested here.”

“So you know you’re dead?”

You nodded. “I don’t know how long I’ve been dead for—”

“Three weeks and four days,” he blurted. He averted his gaze for a moment and picked at a stray thread on the couch. “Three weeks… and four days.”

And suddenly, you felt as though you reflected how he looked right now: eyes shining, frown engraved into your face. Your body went numb from the shock and the sudden realization that he had been counting. You swallowed. How were you supposed to comfort him through your own death?

“Can I hug you?”

Your head perked up and you met his small gaze again. You nodded. “Yeah,” you cleared your throat and held out your palms like an offering, “yeah, c’mere, Kyu.”

At the sound of his nickname, he practically pounced across the gap between you two, and into your arms. You were able to grab hold of him and keep your own body upright, and you felt him fist the material of your shirt in his hands as he sobbed into your chest. He could feel you, all of you—could smell your shampoo, feel the warmth of your neck. He could squeeze and grapple onto you as if you were truly here. God, what he would have given to hug you one last time. His knees were definitely bruised from how hard he hit the floor, but he had slid down far enough that he was clinging onto and crying into your stomach, all while one of your arms came around his top half and the other settled comfortably in the nest of his hair.

“I—” he blubbered into your dampened shirt, “—I missed you so much, Yn. I missed you so bad. I—I can’t—I don’t even know what to do without you. I missed you so, so badly.”

You squeezed him a little harder and leaned down to lay your body over his. “God, I’m sorry, Kyu. I missed you, too. You’ll be okay, hm? You’re gonna be okay.”

He shook his head against you in insistent refusal. “Mm-mm. No. Can’t do this fucking shit without you—can’t do this ‘live your life’ shit without my—my best friend.” He wasn’t even sure how he could manage to get words out. Even if he had known he would be given the opportunity to speak to you one last time, he wouldn’t ever be able to settle on the right words to tell you. This moment was no different. All that spilled from his mouth was nothing short of the truth, though.

———

Hours later, you and Changmin laid on the length of the couch with his face tucked into your neck and his body lying atop yours. You’d coaxed him to move with you onto the couch, knowing that his legs were probably screaming in agony for being pressed against the hardwood floor. He hadn’t said anything for a long time; only deigning to lay there in silence as he assured himself that you really were a solid mass beneath him. He came to realize one thing in particular, however—you lacked a heartbeat.

Everything about you seemed perfectly and incredibly human, except for that fact. He felt no pulse aching from where he nestled by your jugular. All of those crime dramas he’d spent hours upon hours watching with you had come in handy in learning how to feel for pulses. He tried to get past the fact that you didn’t have one; after all, you were dead.

His fingers wrapped around a strand of your hair, and he voiced a thought aloud, “Did they lock you out of heaven or something?”

Your laugh came out like a snort. “If anything, I was booted from hell.”

“Wow, so you died and gained a sense of humor.”

You flicked his forehead, and Changmin grinned, rubbing the spot. “Ow. Rude.”

“Bet you wish I could phase through things now, huh?”

He turned his face into your neck again and his voice came out nasally, “That would have been cooler.”

You huffed indignantly. “Don’t think I didn’t miss your little shrine of me, Mr. Cool Guy.”

Changmin groaned and hid his burning face from you. It was suddenly far too hot in this room, and your laughter was a little too bright to be a good representation of the dead. He grunted. “You died, Yn. What was I supposed to do?”

“You kept Bruno for me though,” you said with a soft sort of smile as you ran your fingers through his hair, making eye contact with the angry, little red t-rex plush sitting on the table by the TV. “He seems to like it here.”

“Do you like it here?” He asked then. “I mean, why are you here, Yn-ie? If—if you’re real, then why are you in the land of the living and fully corporeal?” He braced himself on the sides of the couch then so he could push up. When his eyes clashed with yours, he realized just how close your faces were, and reddened, immediately spacing himself from you to the other end of the couch.

You frowned slightly at the action, but thought nothing of it as you shifted to match his seated position. “I’m not sure. I just remember the accident, the world fading to black, and now…” You gestured to yourself and all around you. “Now I’m here.”

“How do you know things though? Like, how do you know you’re a ghost? How do you know you’ve been dead?”

You could only shrug. “Injected into my brain? Can’t really answer that, Changmin.”

Changmin raked a hand through his hair, licking his lips. “Okay, well you had to have been brought back here for a reason right? Maybe to right a wrong? Something you have to finish or satisfy before you’re allowed into the afterlife or whatever comes after death,” he reasoned with his hands gesticulating madly like flapping wings.

“I know that I have seven days,” you offered.

The world crumbled and the blood drained from his face. “Seven days?” He whispered.

You nodded solemnly. “Just one of those things,” your tone went quiet like an apology, “I guess.”

Changmin’s eyes shuddered. Seven days. Seven days. Seven… okay, he could do this. Seven days to think of all the things he was supposed to say to you and to finally say them. And also, to figure out why you were sent here in the first place. Who knew what would happen to you if you weren’t able to accomplish whatever goal you were supposed to reach? He couldn’t bear the thought.

“Okay,” he managed to say.

“Well, I know where we should start,” you suggested with the slight lift of your shoulder.

He glanced at you in waiting.

“We need to clean this messy ass apartment up.”

DAY TWO

CHANGMIN couldn’t possibly sleep when he knew you were just waltzing about the apartment throughout the night. You had assured him that, as a ghost, you didn’t need to sleep, nor eat, nor breathe, nor shower, nor do anything else of the normal human sort. Yet he laid awake in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Even Gana was fast asleep, curled up at the foot of his bed.

The two of you had spent the entirety of yesterday cleaning up his dump of an apartment. You’d said something about how “spring cleaning isn’t just a spring thing” and handed him a duster. He’d gone along with it, even moving to eventually start playing some music to fill the noise. It was just nice to be in your presence for once.

Even when you were alive, you’d encourage him to clean; maybe even pick up around the place for him when he was too tired from dance practice and his job and his life. But there was no doubt that cleaning around the apartment space made him feel just a little bit refreshed, a little more alive and awake.

But clearly, all that work hadn’t been enough to tire him out.

And he tried to fall asleep, but sleep would not grace him with its mercy.

It was when the sky outside oxidized into a rusted color that his eyelids finally fell. He blinked once, and the next moment, his alarm blared beside him.

An arm shook him awake. “Kyu, wake up.”

He whined, shaking you away. “Nooo,” he groaned and tugged the covers back over his head. The alarm kept going.

“I made coffee.”

He exhaled through his nose and reluctantly pulled the covers down to see you. You were still here, sitting on the edge of his bed in that same, old ratty T-shirt with your hair falling in your eyes, and a sweet, fond smile on your face… “It wasn’t all a dream?” He pondered aloud, voice gravely from exhaustion.

You shook your head. “Nope. Now, get up. Time to go to school.”

At that note, he let out a loud groan, sweeping the covers over his head in protest. You laughed as you exited the room, and Changmin could only smile to himself as he let that sound echo in his ears.

———

“Do I really have to go to class, Yn-ie? It’s Tuesday.”

You sent him a look as you strolled beside him on the sidewalk. “Yes, because it’s Tuesday.”

Changmin pursed his lips as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. While you were able to get him out of bed, you weren’t able to get him to at least look more Changmin. That was, he still walked out of the house in a hoodie and pajama pants and zero product in his hair. You did manage to convince him to slap on deodorant, so you could call that a win.

The sky was just bruising to a purple color as the sun took its sweet time trekking up into its perch in the sky. Changmin knew he shouldn’t have chosen such an early lecture, but he and Juyeon were supposed to weather it together. Guilt suddenly swirled in his stomach at the thought—he’d abandoned Juyeon.

His eyes flickered back at you and your bare arms, wondering if ghosts got cold. But based on the fact you hadn’t stolen a hoodie from his closet, he figured they didn’t then.

As you and Changmin neared the lecture hall, having well stepped onto the college campus for the first time in a month, you both stalled. There were a handful of people milling about, but most of them were too tired to care about other people just standing around anyway.

“Okay,” you began, “remember that when you get in there, you can’t talk to me or about me.”

His breath hitched. “Why can’t I talk about you?”

“Because they’ll think you’ve gone crazy.”

“But I haven’t.”

You chewed your upper lip. “You can see me, Changmin, but they can’t. People are going to look at you weird if you suddenly turn to your side and start talking to the air next to you.”

So that was how ghosts worked? He had to snap his brain into focus. “People already look at me weird,” he muttered, staring across at the path to the entrance of the lecture hall. He could still recall all of the pitying looks he’d received everywhere he went. He couldn’t stomach it anymore. Everyone knew that you and he had been the best of friends, practically attached at the hip. You would sit with him through hours of dance practice and be the loudest one in the audience; he would remind you to get sleep during your worst exam seasons and shuttle you home after late nights at the lab.

His eyes shuttered, and for a moment, that wave of guilt washed over him. He should have been there that night; he should’ve been there to take you home—

A hand on his arm. He sniffed, swiping at his eye. “I’m okay,” he insisted before you could say anything.

He began making his way towards the entrance with you in tow.

When he found the lecture room number, he stopped just short of it. Those feelings of insecurity and fear bubbled up inside of him like bile in his throat. He wanted to turn back and run to the safety and seclusion of his apartment.

But when he felt your hand take his and give it a gentle squeeze, his heart swelled. He glanced back at you, then his eyes widened when he saw someone coming down the corridor. Changmin ducked into the lecture hall, his hand gripping yours tightly.

There were… way too may seats and people, he realized, as he surveyed the room. A couple people recognized him and shot him surprised glances, but otherwise, no one paid him much attention. The lights were dimmed to half-brightness, and the professor had yet to arrive.

“Go sit next to Juyo,” you whispered to him, nudging him toward the left stairs. Up in one of the middle rows sat Juyeon with a hood pulled up over his head, practically nodding off to sleep. “He looks so sad all alone.”

Changmin sucked in a breath, then made the journey up the stairs.

He cleared his throat when he reached Juyeon’s seat, the one beside him always left empty in case Changmin ever did show up to class. Juyeon’s head shot up, and his eyes widened to the size of saucers, a grin slowly forming on his face. Changmin let a small, dimpled smile come to his face.

“I think I’m dreaming, dude,” Juyeon said. “Good to have you back, Changmin-ah.”

Changmin let out the breath he had been holding. “This seat’s not taken, is it?”

Juyeon gave a hard shake of his head. “I’d make a joke about it being some other guy’s, but I’m way too tired. Sit down, for God’s sake.”

Changmin lowered himself into the seat next to his friend, letting go of your hand so he could get settled. He almost turned his head to ask where you were going to sit, but reigned in the urge. He could talk to you afterward, no matter how much he wanted to talk to you now, maybe even ask Juyeon to move down a seat for you.

But then he felt your presence right next to him as you perched on the side of his chair’s armrest. No, you weren’t going anywhere just yet.

About an hour later though, Changmin and Juyeon trudged out of the lecture hall side by side, hands lifting to shield their eyes from the sunlight peeking through the clouds. They had managed to drag each other through the contents of that lecture—mainly Juyeon giving Changmin miniature summary lectures on the points that he didn’t know (everything). No new information from that lecture had been acquired.

“—you should’ve seen when we got our papers back,” Juyeon shook his head with a breathy laugh tumbling out of his mouth. He brushed a hand through his hair, squinting at the daylight. “Absolute madhouse. Professor had to extend his office hours because the line out of his office was so long.”

Changmin smiled widely. “I really should go to office hours, huh? That would be the smart thing to do.”

“You know, I tell myself that everyday, and yet…” Juyeon shrugged. “I never heed my own advice.”

When the two of them reached the intersection where you and Changmin had stood at just earlier this morning, Changmin’s head perked up, eyes searching for you. At some point, it had slipped his mind that you were in lecture with him, and you hadn’t done or said anything to make him remember. He looked across the street though and relief soared through him when he spotted you seated on a bench waiting for him.

Juyeon followed his gaze curiously, but thought better than to question the soft-cornered smile on his friend’s face. “Hey, uhm, did you feel up to having lunch with me and the others today? I’ve gotta go to my social justice lecture right now, but we’re hitting the new ramen place in the district at like, one, I think.”

Changmin snapped back to reality. “Oh, uh…” His eyes drifted back to you, but you were looking elsewhere at a couple who were passing by walking their pups. His foot tapped against the ground as he seesawed between options. Did he feel up to it?

“You don’t have to if you want to go home,” Juyeon assured him with a sympathetic smile. “You should go home and rest.”

Changmin licked his lips. A part of him realized that he was glad Juyeon had been the one to say it. “Sorry, I just…”

“Hey, today was a lot. Don’t sweat it, okay?” Juyeon then gently patted Changmin’s arm with his hand as he turned to head down the road toward his next class. “See you later?”

“Yeah, see you, Ju.”

Something poked at the back of Changmin’s mind as he ducked his head slightly and bounded across the street to where you were seated. He lifted his hand in a subtle wave to you, then nodded toward the road back to his apartment to make a more natural course of action for any onlookers. You fell into step beside him as easily as breathing air.

“How come you didn’t want to go have lunch with the guys?” You piped up.

“Huh? Oh.” Changmin kicked a pebble on the road with the side of his shoe and watched it bounce into the grass next to the sidewalk. “I wanted to spend time with you—Wait, you heard that conversation?”

You tapped the side of your head as if that was enough of an explanation to his question, then moved on. “But you get to spend time with me whenever you’re at the apartment. How long has it been since you last hung out with them?”

“Two days ago, actually. The night before you showed up, we had dinner.”

“Did you enjoy it?” You asked.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, stopping at the traffic intersection to wait for the walking sign to turn on. “I mean, yeah. Yes, I did. I just—afterwards—it was…” He could hear his own sobbing echo in his head, and as if he had projected those memories into your head or as if you could read his mind, your expression grew somber. Changmin’s voice quieted, for fear that adding volume would push out the emotions all over again. “It was really hard, Yn. All I did was cry when I got back.”

You moved closer to him and offered your hand to him. The crosswalk symbol lit up white, and Changmin took your hand as the two of you made your way across the street. “I’m sorry,” was all you could manage to say.

“‘s not your fault,” he replied. He couldn't possibly blame you for your own accidental death. You hadn’t forced that guy to get drunk and drive down that specific road. You had no choice in your death, and for some reason, that made Changmin’s chest hurt just a little more. “I liked having dinner with them and I think I genuinely laughed and smiled for the first time in a while, too, but I just…”

He grappled for the words, unable to admit the truth aloud.

“Kyu-ah,” you said to him, hand-holding shifting to you holding onto his upper arm so the two of you walked closer in a half-embrace. “You can be happy. You’re allowed to feel these things, and you’re allowed to smile and laugh.”

He shook his head, his head tilting back as his eyes closed. The prickling sensation had come back and goddamn it, he didn’t want to cry again. He had to make it back to the apartment at least. “Not without you.”

You frowned, but kept quiet until the two of you reached Changmin’s apartment. He dumped his shoes at the door, backpack thumping to the floor, body crashing onto the couch. You settled down onto the cushion next to him, and he nestled his head onto your shoulder.

“Kyu, can you do something for me?”

He hummed, arms encircling your arm like you had done to him on the walk back. “Anything.”

“Will you go to lunch with Juyeon, Kevin, and Chanhee? Will you at least try for me?”

Changmin stared at your portrait, the one across from his eyes on that little table by the TV. Yours and his smiles were a reflection of each other, framed in eternity behind that clear plastic. He gulped. “Okay. I will.”

DAY THREE

LUNCH yesterday went perfectly well, mainly because you stood behind Changmin’s chair the entire time with your hand on his shoulder to assure him that you were still present and “hanging out” with all of them, too. You appreciated the thought, but you appreciated seeing and hearing him happy. Even if it was at poor Chanhee’s expense (he really had dug himself into a hole when he confessed his crush on one of his peers at the university’s magazine association). It was nice to see everyone, too, of course, even if they weren’t aware that you were watching over them with a fond gaze. As a ghost, you could still feel emotions—that was why you were so human to Changmin, but there was still a sense of ease about you.

When Changmin had finished with his classes for today, you and he lingered in the kitchen while he heated up a pot of ramen on the stove. You hopped onto the counter, arm resting comfortably around his shoulders.

“I’ve connected the dots,” he said suddenly.

“You’ve connected shit.”

He scoffed with a feigned look of offense directed up at you as he pressed his hand to his chest. “Okay, rude! Death has given you so much audacity.”

Your lips curled up into a little smirk. “It’s just an instinct when it comes to you.”

Changmin rolled his eyes. “Whatever. As I was saying, I think I know why you were kicked from the underworld.”

“You say that like the underworld’s an online forum,” you huffed, chuckling. When the pot reached a low boiling point, you tapped him on the shoulder to spur him into action, and he reacted like second nature, even if he had seen that it was ready anyway.

“Hey, I mean, if I had an online forum, I’d kick you out, too.” He giggled as you gently kicked the side of his butt with your foot. “Remember when we were eleven and we thought Omegle was the greatest thing of our naive lives?”

You hummed in content remembrance. “Mhm. Man, we were stupid. But that was a lot of fun.”

He grinned at you over his shoulder. “Wasn’t it?” When he turned back to the pot, he realized how hard his smile pulled at his cheeks. This wouldn’t be forever. Today was day three, and he was already growing used to your presence again—for a split second, panic seized his heart and the smile slipped into the simmering ring of bubbles in the ramen pot.

Changmin cleared his throat. “So what I was saying earlier.”

You blinked at his sudden change of tone. “What about it?”

“Maybe you were sent back here on a mission or a task. You probably have to right some kind of wrong—or, or—or figure out your death?” He whipped out a bowl from a cabinet. “So what did you do wrong, Yn-ie?”

You smiled, amused. “How long do we have?”

He shook his head with a chuckle. “You’re so silly. You were the goodiest-two-shoes of all goodie-two-shoes.”

You scoffed. “Not true.”

“Oh, yes, true,” he quipped with a smug grin. He leaned back against the counter to face you with a full bowl of noodles in his palm. “The guilt after you snuck out with me ate you up alive—”

“Because I broke my parents’ trust!” You sputtered out in protest. You thrusted an accusing finger in his face that only sent him into further fits of laughter. “You’re so lucky I didn’t spill to your parents, Ji Changmin! You should be on your knees because I begged my mom and dad not to tell your parents!”

Changmin had to hold his chopsticks in front of his mouth to keep the food from flying from his mouth. You were fired up, yet all he could see was how the kitchen lights framed your face like a halo. Once the food had been swallowed, he replied, “I feel like I just have to ask: you weren’t a serial killer, were you? Since we’re on the topic of all your wrongdoings.”

Your eyes widened, and in that moment, he knew he was screwed. “Ji. Changmin.”

He giggled. “Don’t hurt me?”

You huffed, nose twitching and wrinkling. “You are so lucky I’m a good ghost.”

The reminder sobered him up a little. “Yeah…” He said quietly.

Silence descended between the two of you as you refrained from saying anything else, so Changmin could finish eating. You hopped off of the counter and went to go find Gana, who was sleeping in Changmin’s bed again. Changmin was left to his noodles and thoughts, his stare blank and spaced out with his mind far off. If you truly had been sent back in order to right a wrong, or even figure out something about your death, then where would he start? Where would you be expected to start if you didn’t have him to help you?

When you were still alive, he was aware of a few nasty people in your lives who weren’t exactly fond of the relationship you two shared, but as far as Changmin knew, their feelings weren’t malicious to the point of death.

Changmin swallowed a bite he was chewing on, mouth slowing as if his train of thought had just eased into the station. All mysteries began from the end, didn’t they? All detectives had to start their investigation from the scene of the crime, whatever that may be when put into context. His hands began to tremble as a thought occurred to him. Clutching the bottom of the bowl and his chopsticks harder to stop the shaking, Changmin forced himself to admit what he didn’t want to.

You emerged from his bedroom cradling Gana in your arms, and when your eyes fell upon Changmin’s grave expression, you couldn’t help but coax an answer from him.

He couldn’t meet your eyes. “I think… we have to go to the site of the accident.”

———

On the night of the Accident, you had been walking home with crisp night air nipping at your nose, your cheeks, your resolve. It hadn’t necessarily been the worst of nights at your shift, but it hadn’t been on the better side of them either. Earlier that day, Changmin had nearly collapsed from exhaustion on the way home, so you insisted on walking home alone. It wasn’t like he could refuse when he pretty much knocked out as soon as his head hit his pillow; plus, your pepper spray made for decent company. You hadn’t anticipated the driver, the screaming tire wheels, the blinding lights. After all, how could you have?

The corner of two streets on the opposite side of campus from where Changmin lived was pindrop quiet. There was one large, framed portrait of you seated against the fence, surrounded by a litter of flowers, tealights, plush toys, and other offerings to the dead. One of your friends from an art class you’d taken in freshman year had made you a sign and nailed it above your picture: In fond and loving memory of Yn Ln—beautiful, beloved, and a heart of gold. May she rest in peace.

Changmin couldn’t move.

He’d been staring at it all for about ten minutes now, shaky hands hidden in the pockets of his hoodie. The last time he’d been here was four weeks ago, in the ungodly hours of the morning, as he chased after your body in a bag, tears flying from his eyes like gushing streams. The red and blue sirens flashed in his eyes and pulsed like heartbeats; his own heartbeat deafened out everything else and thundered in his ears.

Just like now. He… he couldn’t think—couldn’t process anything. He couldn’t turn himself to the street where your broken, lifeless body had laid.

Your smiling portrait glowed in the dim, flickering lights of the tea candles, similar to the very set up he had at home.

For the longest time, he was never able to bring himself to come here. He couldn’t have, of course, he couldn’t have. He didn’t have the stomach to.

Oh my god, he was going to throw up—

“Changmin, hey—hey, buddy. You’re gonna be okay.”

You appeared at his side, hands grabbing out to hold onto his lurching body. He stumbled into you, grappling at your hands, arms, shoulders—anything to anchor him to something. He couldn’t breathe—

“Changmin, look at me! Look at me.”

Your hands forced his head up and his eyes gleamed silver in the gold tea light glow. You had never seen him so afraid. “Inhale, exhale for me. Inhale… exhale… come on; one more time, hon: inhale… exhale… good. Good. That’s really good, Kyu, that’s it.”

Changmin’s entire body trembled as he gripped your hands until, even as a ghost, you could feel his strength. His chest rose and fell at a slower pace now, and the blanched, blankness had melted away into a contorted expression of rage, sadness, panic, and every other emotion in between. Tears cascaded down the slopes of his cheeks in a free fall. “I should have been there, Yn,” were his first words to you, choked out between gritted teeth.

You realized that his anger was not directed toward anyone else but himself at this moment. You held him, mirrored his strength, so he knew he was holding something solid. You murmured firmly, but not unkindly, “Changmin, you couldn’t have changed what hap—”

“Yes, I could have.” He wailed now, his heart-wrenching loathing toward himself echoing against the surrounding buildings, “If I had just been there to walk you home…” You would still be alive, was what he didn’t have the strength to say aloud. To give the world such power over him… as if it didn’t already have him by his neck.

He crumpled to the concrete, his knees buckling from under him, and you could do nothing but fall to the ground with him. You cradled him to your chest as he bawled his entire body out, his conscience no doubt throwing rocks at himself. Your mouth parted, eyes squinting as if you were about to cry, too. And you felt the sensation at the corners of your eyes, and yet, no tears fell from your tear glands. They would not come, no matter how much you wished them to.

Changmin’s arms wrapped around your waist as he tucked himself into you. If he could just—if he could just hold on—if he could just make this right—

Your hand smoothed over the back of his head. “Changmin, it was not your fault. None of it was your fault, so please—please don’t spend your life blaming yourself for something you could not control.”

He pawed at his face, swiped at his eyes, his nose. He sucked in a desperate breath of air, gasping and choking out the words, “I can’t—can’t believe that—that I—I’ll never see you again. The—the world lost you—I lost you too soon.” He gasped for air again: “It’s not fair.”

None of it was fair. Changmin didn’t deserve to feel any of this and you didn’t deserve to die so young. But here the two of you were, a heap of emotions and injustice. Of longing and grief. What might have blossomed to something else in the future had been cut short by the cruel hand of fate. Why had the world set this in motion? What had either of you done to deserve such hurt?

You cleared your congested throat from unshed tears. “I know it’s not fair, but I’m never truly lost.”

Changmin pulled away from you then, still actively trying to tame the emotion rolling down his face. He glared at you then through blurry eyes. Such pain in his contorted features; you hated seeing him so hurt and being so useless to help him. “Cut the sentimental, cliche crap,” he practically snarled. “Please, you know me better than that. I never get why people say shit like that because that’s not how it goes, that’s not how it feels. It’s not the fucking same.”

Your mouth went dry. He was right, and how could you counter that? You weren’t the one who had to live without him now. “You’re right; I’m sorry.”

He was breathing loudly now, more labored. His rage dulled to something of a soft simmer as it dawned on him what he just said. “Wait—I’m sorry. You… you shouldn’t be the one apologizing, Yn. You didn’t deserve that from me.”

“I think I did deserve it,” you shrugged simply, sadly. Just because you were dead didn’t mean you couldn’t be sorry. “And I think you deserved to air that out.”

He sniffed and pulled his knees to his chest. He huffed out an exhale. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a lot.”

You nodded, expression solemn. “And I’m sorry that you’re hurting so badly. I wish I could make everything better.” What was the point of you being here if you were just hurting Changmin more?

Changmin let out another sharp exhale. Slowly, he extended his hand across the gap between you. His fingers still trembled, but he no longer tried to subdue it. “Can I just hold your hand again?” His volume was set almost inaudibly, “Just to assure myself I haven’t been dreaming?”

Everything, you wished you could give him everything. Without hesitation, you bridged the gap and grappled onto his fingers, felt the heat of his palm, and reminded him that you were here.

DAY FOUR

YOU almost couldn’t convince Changmin to go to classes the next day. Almost.

You’d sent him off even as he drooped with his two shots of espresso and puffy eyelids, but he seemed content enough to let you hold his hand all throughout the day. Maybe even tap his shoulder a couple of times to remind him that you were there and that he needed to pay attention. Well, you’d only accomplished such feats because you agreed to his compromise.

“Changmin, you can’t get in without a lab pass.”

Said compromise was chasing after something you were certain didn’t truly exist, but Changmin was set on the idea that you were sent back to the land of the living to “right a wrong”, and he was on a mission to help you accomplish just that.

Changmin stood outside the laboratory building you used to work at with a cinematically narrow-eyed, hands-on-hips pose. He stared up at the looming building, nestled between the massive, glass-faced population health building and the vine-riddled biology buildings as if he could climb up all their stairways without breaking a sweat. “I know, but I’m sure we’ll bump into someone who we can just leech off of to get inside.”

In other words, he would make you both wait until someone came by to open the door and you would then follow them inside. At first listen, it wasn’t an impossible task, especially since this area was relatively populated during business hours. Only, it seemed that the street seemed comically barren. Wherever all your former peers were, you had zero clue.

You pursed your lips and took a seat down on the curb. “Do you even have a plan?”

Changmin poked his tongue in the side of his cheek. “Ha, do I have a plan?”

“Sooo you don’t have a plan; got it—”

“Sh,” he said, turning around to peer inside the glass door of the laboratory building, “someone’s coming!”

You twisted around, silently questioning who?, but as soon as you saw who was making their way toward the entrance of the building, you immediately bobbed your head. This made sense.

Because making his way toward the door from the inside was Lee Sangyeon, your workaholic, grad student supervisor. As usual, he wore a dress shirt appropriate for an office space, hair swept back neatly. In his hands was his phone, while a dark leather satchel bag hung from his shoulder. He glanced up from his phone as he pushed the door open, then started when he realized Changmin was just… there.

“Oh. Sorry, didn’t see you there,” Sangyeon said with a polite smile.

“Uh—wait,” Changmin stammered, effectively halting Sangyeon’s movements. “You’re Lee Sangyeon, right?”

Your eyes widened. “You know Sangyeon?”

Changmin flicked his hand by his leg subtly to gesture at you to wait.

Sangyeon angled his body toward Changmin now, the tilt of his eyebrows curious. “Yeah, that’s me. Can I help you with something?”

Changmin fidgeted with his fingers and rocked on his heels. “Uhm, you were a friend of Yn Ln’s, right? I’m Ji Changmin, she was my best friend.”

At the sound of your name, recognition and something melancholy smoothed over Sangyeon’s features. “Ah, nice to finally meet you, Changmin. Yn-ie used to talk about you all the time.”

“She did?”

“No, I didn’t!” You buried your face into your hands as embarrassment curled in your stomach. “Sangyeon has become a chronic liar, I see!”

Another flicking of Changmin’s fingers. Hush, you! “I actually wanted to talk to you,” Changmin said slowly, “about her. I… I’m trying to uh, piece together some parts of her life, y’know. And I know I wasn’t really able to get to know this aspect of her life much when she was alive, and I thought, better late than never.”

You settled your chin onto your knees. Even if you knew Changmin had an ulterior motive in mind, you couldn’t help but hear the truth laced in his words. Even if he was chasing after this “wrong that needed righting”, there was that twinge of desperation locked in his voice that you couldn’t shake.

“Ah.” Sangyeon nodded. “Well, I’d be happy to talk to you about her. Do you wanna come with me down the road? There’s a pretty neat little coffee place we could sit in.”

You knew this coffee place, you thought to yourself as you followed Sangyeon and Changmin down the road to said coffee shop. It was the place you ran to during dinner breaks and last minute caffeine pick-me-ups. Their banana bread was fantastic, and your mouth watered as you could practically taste it while walking in.

Once the boys were settled at a table, a cup of coffee each, you leaned against the window behind Changmin’s chair, arms crossed and eyes pinned to the steam rising from Sangyeon’s cup.

“I’m sorry for your loss, by the way,” Sangyeon said quietly, sincerely. “I mean, she was important to me, but she must have been so much more to you.”

Changmin gestured vaguely, half-heartedly. His chuckle was the same way. “You don’t have to do that; she’s—was—she was important to both of us.” He nursed his coffee cup between his palms. “Sorry, it’s taken me a while to get the courage to talk about her to anyone but my dog.”

Sangyeon’s eyes shone with that characteristic warmth and patience that made you long for the life you didn’t have anymore. “I… I get that. It’s really tough dealing with the death of a loved one, especially when people expect you to move on with your life.”

Changmin’s head bobbed up and down earnestly. “It really is. It’s so, god, it’s so hard to move on.” He drummed his fingers along the sides of his coffee cup. “Uhm, but I guess I wanted to start with how you knew her—as in, like who did you know her as?”

“Who did I know her as?” Sangyeon sighed, eyebrows furrowing in thought as he grappled for the adequate way to string those thoughts into words. “Well, she was brilliant. She was more than brilliant; she was passionate about what she did. You could see the bags under her eyes and sometimes I knew she took naps in the break room, but…” He blew out a puff of air, his cheek pressed against his fist and coffee forgotten. He lifted his right shoulder in some semblance of a shrug. “I admired her a lot. I didn’t get to work a lot of shifts with her that… that week, but she left these little post-it notes on the break room door with smiley-faces and encouraging messages for everyone to find the next day.”

This time, when you settled your hand on Changmin’s shoulder, it wasn’t for Changmin. Changmin reached up to put his hand over yours, but to anyone else it would look like he was simply holding his shoulder and tucking his chin into his elbow. “Sounds like Yn-ie,” he chimed in softly.

Sangyeon smiled, a breathy laugh following suit. “She was—she shined so bright, Changmin-ah. But I’m guessing you already knew that, huh? She talked about you a lot. She would hear something or do something that reminded her of you, and then she would mention you with that little twinkle in her eyes. The one where she gets all—y’know.”

Changmin inclined his head and felt himself smile. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

A nod. “Yeah. I was kind of surprised that you didn’t introduce yourself as her former partner. I mean, the way she looked when she talked about you…” He shook his head and reached for his coffee cup. “God, sorry. This is probably making you really uncomfortable.”

You lost your breath. Or whatever you had left of it.

Changmin’s thumb brushed over the back of your knuckles. You didn’t know what it meant, didn’t know what he was thinking. You knew you talked about Changmin a lot, but you figured that everyone would assume it was normal because he was your closest friend. Perhaps you had been a little more obvious than you had intended.

“It’s all right,” Changmin replied. You wished you could see his face. “I think a lot of people saw us that way.”

———

Sangyeon’s cup clattered hollowly as it tumbled into the recycling bin on his and Changmin’s way out of the coffee shop. The sky had broiled to a molten gold while the sun began its descent into the folds of the horizon.

Changmin stepped out into the cool afternoon feeling like a weight had been lifted from his chest. There was something refreshing about hearing about you from someone else, as fondly as he saw you. He and Sangyeon had even shared a couple favorite moments of yours; Changmin kept his favorite of all favorites to himself though, of course. Some memories, he wanted to be selfish with. Tears had been shed, too, but a minimal amount. Changmin wasn’t one to cry to strangers, but Sangyeon wasn’t exactly a stranger anymore, was he?

Sangyeon lingered on the sidewalk. “It was really nice talking to you, Changmin-ah. I really needed that, I think.”

Changmin nodded his head. “Me too. Thanks for not being weird about it.”

“Bare minimum, man,” Sangyeon chuckled. He took his phone out of his pocket and offered the new contact space to Changmin. “Hey, maybe we can trade numbers? Any friend of Yn-ie’s is a friend of mine. If you need anything, Changmin, and I truly mean it, don’t hesitate to call or text.”

Changmin accepted the phone from him with his eyes wide like a doe’s. He hoped Sangyeon could see all the gratitude in his silver-lined eyes. “Thank you,” he said in earnest. “I—same to you.” He swiftly put his contact information into Sangyeon’s phone before returning the device to its owner.

Sangyeon mustered up a kind smile, clasping a warm, reassuring hand on Changmin’s shoulder. “Stay strong. You’ll get through this; I know you can.”

Oh god, there was that prickling sensation again. Changmin could only manage a nod without breaking down right then and there in the middle of the walkway. Sangyeon seemed to understand, and took his leave.

Changmin stood there watching his back go farther and farther away.

For a moment, he let himself stand there in silence, soaking in everything that had just passed between him and Lee Sangyeon. He sniffled, knuckles pressing against his nose. “He’s a really cool guy,” he finally said with his words directed toward you.

You were leaning up against the outer facade of the coffee shop, uncertain as to what your role was supposed to be. You felt like you were intruding, like you really were just a ghost now. That you were just a spectator. There was definitely something beautiful about watching two important people in your past life starting a bond, but then… then there was something bittersweet about it, too. “He is,” you agreed.

Changmin hung his head, then raised it up with a tired, dimpled smile. “Let’s go home.”

DAY FIVE

TODAY, Chanhee was the one who got Changmin out of the apartment.

“—I even got Gana a play date—”

Changmin’s neck stuck out from his bathroom, toothbrush hanging from between his teeth. “Huh?!”

Even you spared a laugh from where you were sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter. It was a comical sight for Changmin, seeing that you were making weird, funny faces at the back of Chanhee’s head from where he sat on the couch with Ghana curled up in his lap.

Chanhee nodded enthusiastically. “Yup. Him and my friend Younghoon’s dog Bori. He’s taking them to a dog park nearby.”

Changmin’s eyes narrowed. “So you set up Gana on a blind date?”

“You’re so overprotective, Changmin-ah. Yes, it’s a blind date.” Chanhee waved his hand at Changmin. “Now hurry up! Juyeon and Kevin are already at the performing arts building trying to score a studio!”

Changmin huffed, but stalked back into the bathroom. “Fine.”

While Changmin was finishing up getting himself ready, Chanhee gently removed Ghana from his lap so he could trudge over to the little table beside the TV. You watched him quietly as he knelt in front of it, poked your T-rex plushie, then gave your portrait a small wave.

You craned your head, attempting to see what he was doing. He had picked up one of the tea lights that went dim, most likely from overuse and a dead battery. Chanhee set it back down on the table though.

“Hi, Yn-ie,” you heard him greet your photo. “I see Changmin has dedicated a corner to you, as he should.” Chanhee was silent for a moment, and you thought that maybe he was only voicing his thoughts in his head now. Then he continued, “I miss you. We all miss you. Sometimes I dream about memories of you and it feels like déjà vu. We’ve been trying to help Changmin through this, but it’s been a little difficult getting through to him.”

Your chest tugged as Chanhee slumped his chin onto the ledge of the table. “I just wanna help him. I can see he’s hurting, but I’ve never been good at this stuff. Maybe you can send me a sign that I’m doing okay.”

The light to the bathroom clicked, and Chanhee murmured something else to your picture, blew you a kiss, then turned his head to watch Changmin sweep past him and into the bedroom.

“Let me grab my jacket and we can go!”

“Okay, you slowpoke,” Chanhee quipped, collapsing back onto the couch.

You hopped off from the kitchen counter and walked over toward the couch next to Chanhee. You called out to Gana, immediately garnering a response from the pup. Swiftly, you moved out of the way, hand gesturing to Chanhee on the couch.

As if Gana could read your mind, he leapt into Chanhee’s lap and licked a wet stripe up the man’s cheek.

Chanhee squealed in surprise, a laugh falling from his grinning smile. “Yah! You’re so full of energy this morning, hm? Well, save some for Bori later, okay?”

You smiled, watching the interaction and hoping that that might suffice as a sign.

Changmin hustled out of his room, and you came to the startling realization that he looked so… Changmin today. There was a glow about his cheeks now, the divots of his smile enunciated at the thought of dancing again. He wore something fashionable, as he had always once done, with his black athletic duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He met your gaze as he walked out and you shared a smile for a moment.

“I know I’m pretty, Changmin, but we’re going to be late,” Chanhee teased.

Both you and Changmin laughed, and the two of you followed Chanhee and Gana out to the car.

Gana had propped himself onto the center console of Chanhee’s silver Corolla, while Chanhee and Changmin took up the front two rows, and you sat in the backseat. You leaned your head against the back of Changmin’s seat and gazed out the window at the world passing you by, your hand reaching forward to hold onto Changmin’s.

Chanhee stopped at a nearby park, and after Changmin insisted he was going to stay in the car, Chanhee took Gana out to meet with this Younghoon character and his dog.

The car filled with silence for a beat as the two of you watched Chanhee walk up to a tall, lanky man with a pretty face and pretty pup.

“You haven’t danced since I died, have you?” You released the question into the world and confronted him with it.

Changmin swallowed, his fingers pressing into yours. “No.” In retrospect, maybe if he had continued to dance, he wouldn’t have been holed up at home. A flame in him had died the night you had, but the remaining embers were slowly catching fire again. They hadn’t been wholly swept out or quieted.

Chanhee skipped back over to the car with a boyish smile on his face and he crashed into his front seat with a laugh. “Okay, let’s go!”

The car was turned on, the radio resumed play.

———

Like any other day, especially Fridays, the performing arts building was abuzz with life. People, both solo and squadrons, came to and fro about the large, branching corridors. A smile crawled onto Changmin’s lips as he recalled the familiar route to the practice dance studios in the back half of the building. There was a bounce in his step now, hands gripping the strap of his duffle bag.

Chanhee nudged Changmin with the back of his hand, coughing not-so-quietly under his breath. “Incoming.”

Changmin perked up at the familiar warning. He hadn’t heard it in a little over a month, but the feeling of cold shivers down his arms was no stranger. And the group of girls making their way down the corridor toward them, having just finished with dance practice, were unfortunately no strangers either. Changmin’s mouth pressed into a firm line as he reached out beside him for your hand—fumbled around in the air as if you weren’t there for a second, then latched onto you.

“Changmin-ah!” One of them lit up at the sight of him, and the rest were set off like succeeding lines of firecrackers.

“Well, this should be good,” you mused next to him.

He snuck a glance at you from his periphery, spotted the carefully crafted mask on your face. Even in death, you were trying to put up a brave front.

He turned back to the front, and the group of girls had come closer. “Oh, uh, hi.”

“We haven’t seen you in so long! How have you been?”

“We missed you at the dance rehearsal last week, but we can definitely reschedule.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing a private—”

Changmin blinked. Did they not see how absolutely done he looked? Chanhee looked just about the same way, but he knew the drill; there wasn’t really anything either of them could do until they’d said whatever they said.

“—so sorry about her. It must have been so difficult for you to get through, Changmin-ah! But see, you must be all better now!”

He nearly doubled over in laughter. “You’re shitting me,” he said without stopping himself.

The girl who had been rambling on about your death and how it must have affected him, halted in her tracks. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Tongue in cheek, he shook his head. “No, whatever. Keep going. I wanna hear what you have to say.” The muscle in his jaw feathered and his grip on your hand tightened.

To the others’ credit, they tried subtly getting their friend to not take the bait, but she just couldn’t help herself. “Well, it’s no disrespect or anything, of course. But she was completely holding you back, y'know? She didn’t even know what to look for when she watched your practices and she just sat there like a duck, so I don’t know why you even asked her to come with you so often. I mean, you guys were friends—I get that—but we’re friends, too. I would’ve definitely been able to help you so much better.”

Well. That spelled it all out for Changmin in capital letters.

Chanhee arched an eyebrow high. “Wow, you’re a worse human being than I gave you credit for.”

“It’s funny how whenever people say they mean ‘no disrespect’, whatever they say is extremely disrespectful,” Changmin huffed. His eyes narrowed into daggers now, hands fisted. “You not only spat on my best friend, but also on me and my ability to choose friends. By the way, we are not friends, especially not when you shit on mine right in front of me. Dead or not.”

When a rush of silence fell over the corridor, Changmin muttered, “Thought so,” then nudged Chanhee. “Come on, Chanhee. Let’s go.”

When the two boys brushed past the girls, Changmin finally breathed out.

When he no longer felt your hand, his head whipped around the corridor, searching for you—

“Changmin, the room’s this way.”

He coughed. “Oh, uh, right.” His eyes swiveled about the corridor once more, frowning when he caught you slipping into the practice room right behind Chanhee.

The practice room was dimly lit with the far wall lined with mirrors and a barre, floors made of a smooth hardwood. Kevin and Juyeon were by the large speaker in the corner trying to hook up one of their laptops to the sound system. They glanced up and saw both Changmin and Chanhee coming into the room, then lifted their hands in cheerful waves.

“Hey! Glad you guys are finally here,” Kevin exclaimed.

Chanhee snorted, dumping his bag in his usual corner. “We just had a showdown in the hallway.”

Kevin’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh?”

“They were disrespecting Yn,” Changmin shrugged stiffly. He walked over to his own corner, where you were already seated against the wall, and dropped his bag down next to you. He held your eye contact as he said, “They deserved it.”

Juyeon whistled lowly. “I’m sure they did. Wow, the fucking audacity. Do they just lack human decency?”

Kevin pursed his lips. “Apparently.”

“Fucking incredible.”

Chanhee shrugged his jacket off, eyeing the dark look still present in the shadows cast over Changmin’s face. Or maybe it was just the lighting. “Okay, let’s get started, shall we? Changmin, warm us up.”

———

Practice progressed smoothly.

You always liked Changmin’s corner of the room—definitely not because his duffle bag was here (because lord did that thing smell some days), but because it had the best view. (Of Changmin.) From here, even on the floor, you could observe his sharp, calculated movements, the graceful way in which he knew how to use his body and draw art in the air.

It seemed that the harder the choreography was, the more sweat he perspired, the harder he breathed, and the bigger he smiled. It was hard work like this that made his heart full, and thus, made you happy.

Occasionally, he would pass looks over to your corner, always looking for you and your reactions (maybe even your approval). He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do when this was all over, but… he wasn’t going to think about that quite yet. He didn’t want to give that thought time to sink in.

The music blasted throughout the room louder than your own thoughts when Chanhee threw his head back and declared a break.

Everyone retreated to their separate corners, and Changmin, sweat dripping down his bangs and the side of his face like he’d just showered, came over to you. He leaned down and swept his water bottle out from his bag and guzzled the water down as fast as his throat could accept it.

“Tired?” You asked him quietly as he wiped his mouth with the collar of his shirt.

He broke into a smile. “Yeah.”

Changmin dropped his bottle onto his bag, exchanging it instead for his phone. “Are you okay? From earlier, I mean.”

“Oh. Those girls? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

His mouth curled into a frown. “What they said—”

“—Can only hurt the living,” you said, brushing it off.

“Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you can’t still hurt.” Changmin lowered himself beside you now, only stealing glances at you so he didn’t look weird to everyone else. “They didn’t say anything to you when you were alive, did they?”

Your blank face didn’t make him feel any better. “Maybe something here or there, but nothing as direct as what was said earlier. It’s okay though. The past is in the past.”

Changmin swallowed. “How could you say that?”

You held his eyes, and for a moment that was all you could do. Instead of pushing against him and trying to defend your insensitivity, you said, “I’m sorry, Kyu. And thank you for what you did back there. But I guess even when I’m dead I don’t like talking about it.”

His eyes gleamed. “I’m sorry they did that to you.”

“Just don’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t have stopped.”

His throat bobbed. “It’s not that easy, Yn-ie. You know that.”

“I do know, but just try, for my sake.”

DAY SIX

CHANGMIN didn’t sleep. Technically, he slept for half an hour, but those thirty minutes of sleep had been enough to keep him awake for the rest of the night.

The dream he had awoken from was still fresh in his mind. Thirty fast seconds of gauzy, luminescent adolescence. It was the rusty squeaking of the playground swings, the afternoon golden hour sun hanging like a medal in the sky at the end of the day. It was yours and his youthful gazes, cheeks full of love and smiles and that god forsaken discussion about death.

“What comes after this?” A line like this could only come from a child who had yet to experience the beauty of the world or a child exhausted by its horrors.

A shrug from him. “I dunno. Maybe we become ghosts!” He delivered this line with such vigor and delight that you couldn’t help but beam at his antics.

“Like the ones from Ghostbusters?” You asked him.

He bobbed his head, kicked his legs out to gain some momentum on his swing. He fell back whilst gripping the twin chains, tongue lolling out and making you laugh. He loved making you laugh, even as a kid. “Exactly like that. I want to spit out green ectoplasm just like that. Blehhh!”

The two of you mocked the ghosts from the universally known blockbuster. You didn’t exactly like scary movies, but the way Changmin stared up at the screen with awe and dimples big, you couldn’t help but like them, too.

After a minute, Changmin wrapped his elbows around the chains and let himself drift there, his eyes turned to you. “What about you? What do you think happens to us when we die?”

You looked up at the afternoon sky in thought. “Shei from art class told me this story that her mama tells her as a bedtime story. At the end, the girl and boy become butterflies so they can fly together in death because they couldn’t be together in life.”

Changmin blinked, the thoughts bouncing about in his head coming to a slow halt. His lips parted. “Oh.”

“It’s not as cool as ghosts, but I think about my grandpa whenever I see a butterfly now.”

Well, how could he possibly argue against it? He smiled then, reaching across the gap between you two to bump your shoulder. “I think butterflies are cool, too! We should say hi to every butterfly we see then.”

Changmin’s eyes fluttered open like the wings of a butterfly then, twelve years later from that moment in time. The room was dark, the sky outside his window burned to rust and void of stars. He let out a shuddering breath from his lips, shaky from exhaustion and shivers from the memory he had just revisited. How had it been so vivid?

He rolled around in bed to his other side and his eyes screwed shut in an attempt to return back to the land of dreams—maybe even to that very day twelve years ago. When death had only been a conversation, and not a reality.

Sleep would not come. Today was Saturday, day six.

You said you had seven days before leaving him forevermore.

Changmin rolled back over and grabbed his phone off the nightstand and squinted as the light from the screen blinded him. It was three in the morning; that definitely checked out. He opened his notes app, disregarded the title, and began to type out something. Anything to get his body moving as fast as his head.

Things to do with Yn before tomorrow.

His hand came up to rub his lips for a moment, then he yawned wide. His eyes had adjusted to the bright screen by now, and he swiped out of his notes to consult the internet.

Ghosts. What are ghosts? How do you summon ghosts? How can you make a ghost stay?

Changmin’s brows creased as his eyes zipped down article after article—he was pretty sure he must have downloaded about a hundred viruses and bugs onto his phone by this point. Not one article gave him a straight or doable answer. Not anything that he couldn’t do without practice or additional materials. Nothing he could accomplish before midnight tomorrow.

He dropped his phone onto his bed, flopping backward onto his pillow with his hand draped over his forehead. Was it too much for him to want you to stay? All of the things he had thought about doing with you or saying to you when you were alive, shoved under the rug for “another time”… He wished he had known. Goddamn it, he wished he had known.

———

“You’re up early.”

Changmin practically bolted into the bathroom to start up the faucet and brush his teeth. “I’ve been up since three,” he replied, toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

You were sitting on the couch again and rubbing Gana’s belly. “Three?”

“Mhm. Couldn’t sleep.” He spat out his lathered toothpaste and speed-ran his skincare routine, hands slapping the moisturizer and sunscreen into his skin.

You chuckled out from the living room. “What’re you doing in there? It sounds like you’re hitting yourself.”

“I’m just trying to be fast,” he said. When he was done, he took the slightest bit of hair product between his hands and ran it through his dark locks to give it life and volume. When he was decently satisfied with it, he breezed back into the living room and flicked his fingers upward at you. “Come on! Chop chop, Yn-ie! Things to do, places to see!”

You cocked your head to the side, a slightly weirded out smile pressed onto your face. “Huh? How are you so awake right now?”

He was in his bedroom when you asked this and thus, out of your direct sight. He shuddered, the energy slipping off the lines of his face for a split second as he threw things into a bag haphazardly. “I’m just—it’s just one of those days where I’m better off on a power nap, y’know?”

“Okay…?”

Changmin slung his bag over his shoulder and strode over to you to yank you up to your feet. He grinned wide at you. “Well? Ready for the day I have planned?” He stuffed his shaky hands into his pockets.

Your eyes narrowed at him, but you eventually sighed—accepted it. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”

———

Changmin pulled his phone’s notes app up and clicked the checkbox next to “go down to the boardwalk for rolled ice cream”. It was accompanied by about seven items prior to it, also crossed out in twin strike-throughs. It was about six o’clock in the evening now, the sun having well set into the horizon to yours and Changmin’s left. The ocean breeze wafted through his hair, and though the view of the boardwalk below was glittering and beautiful, all he could think about was the next thing on his list.

It wasn’t that you didn’t need to eat, but that you couldn’t… really eat. The food related items were there so Changmin could experience it with you one last time, but his cup of strawberry cheesecake rolled ice cream sat untouched and fast-melting in his lap.

Changmin felt the familiar twin taps on his shoulder and jolted. His head whipped up to meet your eyes. He gulped at the look on your face. “What?”

“Your ice cream is soup.”

He glanced down at his lap and saw the thick chunks of pale pink swimming in an ocean. “Oh.”

You rested the side of your head against your fist, then propped your elbow up on the back of the bench the two of you sat on. “What’s going on, Kyu? What’s your rush today? You have a whole list written out, and we’ve been practically everywhere around the city today. I think I saw you ignore the giraffe statue in the toy store earlier—which, frankly, is not very Kyu of you.”

The last thing you expected him to do was to stare at you until he started crying. You saw the way his face scrunched up, first, then the silver pooling in his eyes. His cheeks had puffed just slightly until he combusted, fat tears rolling down his face and dripping into his ice cream soup.

Your heart sank.

Changmin got up and stalked to the trash can just a little ways away from the bench and tossed the wasted ice cream away. When he came back, you wrapped him up in your embrace, gently cupping the back of his head. “I’m sorry I upset you,” you said quietly.

“I’m sorry for crying again,” he hiccuped. “I just—I’m just so frustrated. And I just don’t know anymore. There’s enough shit to do on that list to get us to tomorrow night—”

The realization dawned upon you. You had a sneaking suspicion throughout the day as he dragged you from place to place, barely taking the time to properly enjoy the attraction, but now that he had finally said it, the truth hit you square in the chest.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, before they opened toward the shimmering boardwalk below. “Changmin-ah. Kyu. Let’s go home, hm? Do you wanna go home?”

You felt him nod against you, and that was settled.

When the two of you made it back to Changmin’s apartment, he walked in with shoulders hunched and head hanging. The lights stayed off, the quiet remained unbroken. You sat him down on his worn place on the couch, and you resumed that perch on the coffee table that you had taken on that very first day you had manifested in his apartment.

Changmin leaned forward onto his elbows. He was no longer crying, but his eyes were red and puffy, bottom lip wobbly. The worst thing was that he not only looked sad, but also ashamed. He kept his gaze firmly on the hardwood floor, and his voice was gravelly, “I just wasted an entire day, didn’t I?”

You shook your head. “N—”

“I’ve come to the realization that you’re probably not here to right any wrongs,” he pressed on, his head lifting for this moment to plead with his eyes for you to let him continue, to let this all out. “You haven’t done a single horrible thing in your life, Yn, not in my eyes. And… well, your death was an accident, and maybe for a second, I wanted to believe that there was foul play involved so I could distract myself but…” He picked at one of his fingers. “Now I just want to seize the last of these hours I have with you. And I thought I was doing it right today, but it was the exact opposite.”

He reached out for your hand and you gave it to him as he cradled it with both of his.

“I,” you began, “I understand what you were trying to do, Changmin, and I don’t blame you. I would have done the same thing.”

The breath he released was shaky as he stared you in the eyes with his red and silvery ones—stared you right in the eyes as he lifted your knuckles to his lips and held them there.

Something rocked through you then. You wanted to cry; god, you so badly wanted to cry.

“I wish it was me,” he croaked. “I wish it was me. I wish it was me—”

Your hand tightened around his fingers. “No,” you asserted. The strength and firmness of that single word made Changmin’s breath hitch. “No, Changmin. Don’t.” You shook your head vigorously, trying to wrap your head around the mere thought of Changmin taking your place, and everything in your chest seized. “Don’t say that.”

“God, fuck. Yn—” he stammered, pressing the back of your hand to his lips to stop the flood of emotions to break through yet again. Every time he thought he built himself back up, the dam just happened to be more fragile than he believed it to be.

You swallowed. “Changmin, I have to tell you something.”

He shook his head then. “No. God, no, don’t say it.”

“Changmin, I love you. You know that.”

He released your hand and flew back onto the couch, knees pulled to his chest and his face buried in his hands. “Yn, please.”

You clutched your hand to your chest. “I’m being selfish, and I’m sorry for that, but I… never got to say it to you before I left your house that day.” Not enough times. Never enough times.

“Yn, you don’t understand,” he rasped. One hand gripped onto his knee, the other swiping upwards into his hair so you could see the full brunt of his emotions, clear as day on his face. “I love—d you. I loved you so much that it makes my chest hurt. And—and—god, I think I would’ve wanted to spend the rest of my life with you if we had more time and I came to my fucking senses. Yn, it hurts so bad.”

You lowered yourself to your knees in front of him and coaxed him to unravel himself. He leaned forward, forehead pressed against you as he dry-sobbed until his lungs ached and burned from the inside out.

You couldn’t tell if all of what he just told you was true or in the moment. But what you did know was that the world was so very cruel. It would have been nice to figure this out with him, to see what might have transpired, or enjoyed the journey nonetheless. All of that… you had reached the final destination, and Changmin would go on without you now.

You had one day left.

With that one day… you were still unsure as to how you should seize it, but at this very blink in time, your priority was your best friend. You climbed onto the couch beside him and let him find comfort in your embrace.

You rubbed soothing circles into his back as you gathered your thoughts. “Do you know…” you started lowly and gently, “that I think the world of you? And I don’t say that to make you cry again; I’m saying that so you know, in your heart every day, that you could have never failed me. Like you said, in my eyes, you could do no wrong.”

Changmin sniffled against you. “But what if I do fail you? What if, when you leave for real, I can’t go on?”

“Well, then I’d like you to promise me that you will try your best to keep going. Your best is enough,” you said to him, finger brushing the hair from his forehead. “The Kyu I know is so very strong, and I know that even when the going gets tough, you get going, because you are tougher.”

He held onto your shirt, his chest’s rising and falling beginning to slow and calm down. “I promise.”

“Good. I’m proud of you.” You leaned down and pressed a butterfly kiss to the crown of his head then rubbed his shoulder. “I know this week must have been really difficult for you, but I watched you make steps toward healing. I won’t sugarcoat how hard it might be, but you have people who love you, Changmin. People who love you and care about you and want to be there for you.”

“Thank you,” he rasped. “Thank you for being here. For coming back. It probably wasn’t your choice, but thank you for choosing me in life and in death.”

For a moment, you closed your eyes and (maybe; just maybe) thought you finally felt a tear cascade down your cheek. “I wouldn’t have chosen anyone else, to be honest.”

DAY SEVEN

IT had been awhile since Changmin had invited anyone over to the apartment. Chanhee had pretty much invited himself over yesterday, but this morning, you had suggested to Changmin to host a movie night with the others so he wouldn’t have to be alone when you took off. (For wherever you were off to.) Changmin had recovered slightly from yours and his conversation last night, but there was still a soft spoken air around him.

At about six minutes past eight o’clock that Sunday evening, Changmin let Chanhee, Kevin, and Juyeon into the apartment, with Ghana leaping for joy onto the knees and thighs of these old friends he hadn’t seen in awhile. Before you died, it wasn’t uncommon that Changmin invited the group over to hang out. He thrived on the energy and connection of other people, and when he had shut himself in for an entire month, it was clear that he would not be himself for a while.

Kevin scanned the apartment with a pleasantly surprised nod. “Wow, I’m shocked that you kept it clean.”

“Yah! What kind of guest are you?” Changmin jokingly whacked Kevin with the excess material of his sleeve.

From your perch in the middle of the kitchen counter, you snickered. “If only he knew, Changmin.”

Changmin sent you a look, lips pressed in a smile.

“Man, I missed Gana so much,” Juyeon groaned, leaning down to pucker his lips at the poodle. Gana reacted accordingly, hopping up onto Juyeon’s knees and licking the tip of the man’s nose. “Mwah!”

Changmin rolled his eyes and hopped onto the ledge of the kitchen counter right in front of you. You leaned forward and rested your chin on his shoulder. “Oh please. Gana’s only got eyes for that pretty, white poodle—what’s her name?”

“Bori?” Chanhee’s pink head perked up from the couch. He peered over the ledge with a wide smile as he wielded the TV remote in his hand. “Younghoon says the two lovebirds ought to hang out again soon.”

Juyeon pouted. “Hmph, well I was in line first, so…”

Changmin shook his head with a melodramatic sigh. “Aish… by the way, you weirdos better say hi to Yn over there or I will kick you out right now.” He was only kidding, of course. (Maybe half kidding.) He was tempted to make the joke that you were really behind him and that he wasn’t referring to the shrine by the TV, but he knew they would only give him weird looks and he’d be the butt of the joke.

His three friends immediately jumped to it, raising their hands in cute, excited waves, smiles gleaming under the television light. Kevin scurried over to the table, cooing at the dinosaur plush seated next to your portrait. You couldn’t quite hear the words he murmured to you, but Juyeon was a little louder when he paid your shrine a visit himself.

When they had finished, Juyeon raised the dead tea light in the sky. “Aye! This light’s out, Changmin-ah.”

“That’s what I noticed yesterday, too!” Chanhee chimed in. He shook his head with a playful click of his tongue. “Tsk, tsk. If you’re gonna keep a shrine, you should tend to it.”

“Aish,” Changmin muttered again. (“They’re not wrong,” you added cheekily; “Heeey, shush you.”)

“Changmin, are you not coming to join us at your own movie night?” Kevin teased as he tore off his jacket and settled onto the couch next to Juyeon.

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” He felt the weight of your head lift off his shoulder, then could he slide off the counter and join his friends at the couch.

You smiled to yourself as you scooted up the counter to take Changmin’s old place. From here, you had a great view of the movie anyway. They were arguing between a couple different titles, but it seemed that Changmin was insistent on one in particular.

“—Ghostbusters. Have you seen the original? You haven’t? That’s so insulting; we’re watching it now!” Changmin screeched, grabbing hold of Chanhee’s shoulder to shake the poor man into doing his bidding with the remote.

Eventually, the movie started rolling, the ectoplasm spilled, and on your final night as a ghost, you watched yours and Changmin’s childhood staple movie for the very last time. From time to time, you caught Changmin twisting his head over his shoulder to throw smiles back at you, and you knew he was reminiscing the same as you were. Only, as the night grew longer and time flew by, there were less and less looks thrown back at you.

And just like that, a sense of contentment settled over you. Like a set of ellipses, your time was coming to a gradual halt.

At five minutes to midnight, Changmin jolted up in the middle of The Avengers to a twin set of taps on his left shoulder. Chanhee sent him a mildly concerned look, since his friend’s movements jostled his head off Changmin’s shoulder.

Changmin cleared his throat, quietly murmuring, “I’ll be right back”, then slipped out of the front door.

Changmin’s slippers hit the concrete outside the apartment complex with a dull smack. Crisp cool night bit at his cheeks, but when he saw you standing beneath the rusty-orange night sky, he ran up to you and crushed you to his body in a final embrace. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but his mouth curled into a smile against your shoulder.

“I wish we had more time,” he whispered in a last, desperate attempt to implore the universe.

You cradled the back of his head, eyes screwed shut. “Me, too. You have no idea, but… you’re gonna be okay, Kyu. It’ll all be okay.”

Changmin tucked his face into your neck to catch the lingering scent of your shampoo, to memorize the imprint of your body into his brain so he might always remember what holding you felt like. “I’ll make you proud, Yn-ie.”

Silver lined your eyes, your throat tightened—for fuck’s sake, you wished you could cry. “You’ve already made me proud, Changmin.”

———

When Changmin returned, three heads perked up from the couch to watch him settle down next to Chanhee again. They caught the glistening wetness of his eyes, but he smiled through it, as if he had just come back from seeing a friend off.

Changmin curled up into Chanhee’s side, the latter asking him gently, “You okay?”

Changmin nodded. “I’m okay.”

—fin.

BONUS SCENES. — day seven cont’d.

(“Hey, before you go, can I ask you a favor?”; “Anything.”)

A minute after Changmin had settled back in the apartment, he cleared his throat, inclining his head to the shrine. “Guys, I know you said I should really maintain the shrine better, but the shrine maintains itself.”

Everyone followed his line of sight to the shrine where your portrait glowed in the light of only one tea light. However, they all heard, loud and clear, a distinct tap-tap sound against the base of the dark candle. The light blinked to life, and everyone erupted into madness.

Through his friends’ screams, Changmin cackled in hyena-esque delight. “I told you my apartment was haunted!”

DAY TWELVE

“CHANGMIN, over here!”

The street was alive as university students flooded into all cram into the humble bbq restaurant in the district, this chilly Friday evening. Only a lucky few would be able to score a table without having a prior reservation, but lucky for Changmin and his friends, Kevin was always on top of his Yelp notifications.

Changmin beamed at his friends, his eyes widening as Chanhee practically hurled himself down the street and into Changmin’s embrace. “Holy shit—I could’ve become a pancake on the sidewalk just now.”

Chanhee rolled his eyes with a laugh. “Oh shut up, you drama king.”

“Hey, that’s all you, dude.” The two of them walked back over toward where Kevin and Juyeon stood by the door. A long line had formed down the opposite side of the block, but the four of them stood in the area simply waiting for their reservation notification to arrive.

Juyeon brought Changmin in for an affectionate side hug, and Kevin asked him how he was feeling. Changmin answered with a small, affirming nod and statement; though, the deja vu was awfully strong tonight.

Kevin pursed his lips in a smile. “Good, I’m glad, man.” Then his phone lit up, and so too did his face. “Ooh, fuck yeah! Our table’s ready—c’mon!”

Changmin was about to follow his friends in through the door when he stopped short. His head perked up and swiveled to survey the sidewalk. He thought he had just heard his name being called…

“Kyu!”

He whipped around now, and his eyes locked onto a form on the far side of the street. It was a mass crush of people over there, but he could pick you out of a sea of people—anytime, anywhere.

Something seized in his chest, and he broke into a teary-eyed smile. Before he could wave or further acknowledge your presence, someone passed in front of you, and you melted in with the crowd. Gone, as if never there before.

“—Changmin-ah, what’s up? We can’t be seated until we’re all inside.” Chanhee shook Changmin’s shoulder, then followed his gaze. “What’s over there?”

Changmin shook his head and turned on his heel to duck into the warmth of the restaurant with Chanhee. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I just saw an old friend.”

a/n: thank you so much for reading all the way thru and i hope u liked it ! :') pls do consider reblogging this or dropping a comment/ask &lt;3

[dancerinthestorm]

Fic Recs: "Didn't see that one coming" edition...

I've been wanting to start collecting my all time favorite stories in ages but never knew where to start, there are just too many talented souls out there. A lazy day of re-reading favorites makes me want to finally give it a try though.

Featuring today: stories that defy my usual hunting patterns but still became all time favourites against all odds. Stories leaving me utterly gobsmacked thinking "That was so, soo awsome... but how on earth did I end up in this fandom / character / trope tag of all places?".

@messy-insomniac-bookgirl Let's be honest: this writer is the spirit animal of this specific selection. Never heard of the fandom? Dislike the protagonist with a passion? Doesn't matter: she writes it, I devour and love it. The reason? Dense and hugely rewarding story-telling, perfect pacing, side characters you want to adopt on the spot, delicious slow burns with sooo much yearning. And, most importantly, the awesome female OCs. I am in love with each and every one of them, regardless who they share a screen with. It's almost impossible to select just one story for this list but let's go for "Keep Calm and Buckle Up" (AO3) for suddenly making me feel things when Steve Rogers entered the stage in "Infinity War". Steve Rogers x OFC, James "Bucky" Barnes x OFC, Steve x Bucky x OFC. Action, slow burn, emotional roller coaster rides. Rated E.

@batsingotham "Written in the stars" (AO3) I don't do Soul Mate AUs. I don't do Robert Pattinson characters. For me the best things about "The Batman" were Andy Serkis' Alfred and 3 hours of Niravana in a loop. But the undisputed goddess queen of slow burn domestic fluff overruled all of that. Bruce Wayne/Reader. Soulmate AU. Dorks in love. Bruce needs a hug and Alfred has the patience of a saint. Rated M.

"Sweet Conversations" by @glassgulls Lord of the Rings has been living in my head rent free ever since I was a teenager but I simply don't do Elves. Period. Yes, Glorfindel is very cool and Lee Pace's Thranduil is an absolute vision (the costumes, the voice and the make up, mind you, don't get me started on any other aspect of the Hobbit movies though...) but otherwise? Thanks but no thanks. Nevertheless: the award for best fictional kiss I’ve come across in ages goes to this gem. Amazing scene setting and character work for something so short. Leaves you weak-kneed and high as a kite on serotonin for the rest of the day. Haldir/Reader. One-shot. Rated M.

„Ownership of Mine“ by @amywritesthings . Okay, lets be honest, peeps: Prison settings for a romance story? Seriously? Who in their right mind would be able to think about romance and seduction when all of your freedom is taken away, you are crammed into a small and dark space with people of questionable character and put under constant surveilance. Well… apparently I can… with this story. Even if that tag is a big red NO GO sign for me otherwise. Amazingly dense story telling and atmosphere building in just 3 short chapters. Kino Loy/Reader. Rated E.

„Directions“ by @zinzinina . Probably a sure sign that I am getting too old for all of this but tags about age gaps, first love or first times usually make me run for the hills. Add a character like Poe Dameron (I mean: come on! Howww…?!) to the mix and there is not enough willing suspension of disbelieve in the world to get me immersed in the plot. Or so I thought. Unwisely. Until this beauty came along. Poe Dameron/Reader. Rated E.

[conkers-thecosy]

Bagginshield-tober / Day 1 / Breakfast

I've decided to take part in the lovely "Bagginshield-tober" prompt list by the excellent @smolestboop 💛

I've always wanted to write some reshirement stuff for Thorin and Bilbo, but never really had a definitive plot bunny for it, so this works out quite nicely! Going to keep them fairly short (although who knows what that actually means, when it comes to me and writing, lmao) but ideally all following on from one another! Hopefully they come out okay!

~*~*~

Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain for a mere nine days, all told, was getting pudgy.

It had been only six months since he had followed Bilbo Baggins to his home back in the Shire under the guise of an escort, unsure what to do with himself after his abdication. In that time he had let out his belt by two notches, and was starting to feel that he might need to purchase new clothes entirely, both for his own comfort, and for the sake of decency. Everything was decidedly tight, including his temper, as he'd had to lay back on the bed to fasten his trousers that morning.

Simmering with suppressed annoyance, Thorin entered the bright and warm kitchen to find his retired burglar already cooking up a vast and sumptuous breakfast for the two of them. He stood in the doorway, looking warily around at all the hustle and bustle, fried potatoes, ham, sausages, mushrooms, tomatoes. There was toast piled high beside the already open butter dish, where one half eaten slice was laying, slathered with strawberry preserve. Tea was being brewed, already laid out on the table with milk, sugar, and two cups and saucers, waiting with another two jars for the toast of marmalade and raspberry jam.

This was the issue. He tried to stay active, he really did. He chopped wood, he mended things about the smial, carried groceries (which was quite the undertaking given the amount of food the pair of them seemed to get through), he'd even taken to helping in Bilbo's garden, which he had found surprisingly back-breaking. Still, it wasn't enough to counteract the vast amount of meals the Hobbit seemed intent on feeding him.

He watched Bilbo from the doorway, still unnoticed by his host, and felt a little of his annoyance fade at the sight. He was humming merrily to himself, standing over the hob and frying a pan of eggs, the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window and catching the gold and copper in his hair. His small hands were delicate, but deft as he cooked with practised ease, and Thorin couldn't help but notice how radiant Bilbo looked. There had been a time when he had been deeply concerned about how small the Hobbit had grown on their journey, and to see him now filling out his clothes better, looking round and soft again as he ought, filled Thorin with a quiet sense of relief.

Just then, Bilbo turned to remove the pan from the heat, the eggs apparently now done, and saw his long-term house-guest watching him with, what was quite likely, a besotted look upon his face. Thorin straightened, feeling his cheeks heat, and cleared his throat. Before he had time to apologise, to explain, or anything really, Bilbo's eyes lit up and he smiled widely.

"Good morning!" he practically chirruped as he scooped the eggs onto the serving platter with the rest of the food. "I trust you slept well?"

"I did indeed," Thorin replied. "And yourself?"

"Very well, thank you, yes!"

It was a lie they both told one another each day. Neither of them slept well anymore. Thorin awoke often with nightmares, and from the bedroom beside him, he often heard that Bilbo suffered in much the same way. It was likely they both knew it was happening, but neither wanted to admit it to the other, and so they pretended every day that the fear, grief, heart-ache, and deep, abiding shame was nonexistent.

Suddenly Bilbo was standing right in front of him, eyes too kind, yet somehow hesitant, and Thorin wondered if perhaps the Hobbit was about to break their mutual silence on the matter. Instead he reached forward and almost absently patted Thorin's tummy with those small, deft hands he had been admiring only moments before, and smiled warmly.

"You're looking so much healthier lately, Thorin," he said, blushing gently. "I'm pleased to see it."

In the face of such honest concern and happiness, Thorin felt all of his previous annoyance melt away to nothing. Bilbo had worried for him, just as he had worried for Bilbo. What did it matter if he needed to purchase new clothes or let out his belt a little more, when the one he loved was so determined to see him along the road to recovery? It wasn't as though the physical changes to his body were a hindrance to him, and perhaps he might see about working in the smithy if he was going to stay a while yet in Bag End.

He hoped he would never have to leave, in truth, but that decision was not up to him, and not one he had felt able to broach just yet.

"Thank you," Thorin said instead, smiling gently down at Bilbo and fighting the urge to reach up and caress his slightly pink, rounded cheek. "You are looking healthier, as well."

There was a moment between them, a pull that happened more and more lately, but Bilbo only winked and stepped back. "Come along then, breakfast is getting cold. I didn't bother making porridge this morning, but if you like we can have some with fruit for second breakfast later."

Thorin smothered a chuckle as he followed Bilbo to the table as he was bid. Yes, perhaps some time working at a forge would be a good idea, after all.

[frenzyarts]

hi!! I was recently at a book store and had absolutely no idea what to get. you seem to have impeccable taste in everything (homestuck, the locked tomb, ur whole aesthetic) so I was wondering if you had a list of books you'd recommend! have a good one (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

This is very flattering, thank you 🥰 I like a lot of novels and comics so it would probably be easier for me to narrow it down if you gave me a genre you like but if you’re open to anything here are some of my favs!

Beauty by Hubert and Kerascoët

“When the repulsively ugly Coddie unintentionally saves a fairy from a spell, she does not understand the poisonous nature of the wish granted her by the fairy. The village folk no longer see her as repulsive and stinking of fish—they now perceive her as magnetically beautiful—which does not help her in her village. A young local lord saves her, but it soon becomes apparent that Coddie's destiny may be far greater than anyone ever imagined. Caustic and flamboyant, this fairy tale offers grownups an engrossing take on the nature and corrupting power of beauty, in our age of obsession with it.” (The art in this book is so so so gorgeous. Also I love dark fairytales)

Not Simple by Natsume Ono

“Ian, a young man with a fractured family history, travels from Australia to England to America in the hope of realizing his dreams and reuniting with his beloved sister. His story unfolds backwards through the framing narrative of Jim, a reporter driven to capture Ian’s experiences in a novel: not simple. A story within a story, a book within a book, a tale about the search for family, for an emotional home.” (This one has some really dark themes, highly recommended looking up content warnings before you read. It WILL make you cry, but it’s one of the most beautifully plotted novels I’ve ever read. Also the art style rules.)

Not even gonna bother to introduce this one cause it’s so famous but if you’ve never read the Hobbit, I highly recommend it. Especially because bookstores are always making pretty gilded versions of the book cause it’s so famous.

A short story but: Ligeia by Edgar Allen Poe (sorry I know he sucked) but that short story and the poem it features left a big impression on me. I feel like I can’t describe what the story is about without spoiling it, but if you like stories about mysterious and beautiful women who are involved with the supernatural and death, then you might like this short story!

Okay last one since I don’t want to make this list too long (I have a lot more recommendations if you’d like, these were the first that came to mind!)

Snotgirl by Bryan Lee O’Malley and Leslie Hung

I’m struggling to find a description for the series as a whole, probably because it’s still slowly being released and it comes out in monthly issues (you can usually find the issues compiled into graphic novel format in bookstores, which I still need to get, I only have the issues) But basically it’s about a social media influencer named Lottie Person. She gets wrapped up in a sapphic supernatural romance with a big mystery element. If you’re a fan of the famed “toxic yuri” then this is the series for you, 100%. I’ve actually been meaning to do a re-read 👀

[pygmi-cygni]

idk if this counts as a request, but I loved your post on starting, and I was wondering if you had any advice for one step before a writing session (i.e., going from the staring-at-the-wall phase to sitting down in front of some sort of screen and opening the right document). It sounds silly, but that's where I'm at right now; I've figured out how to handle a blank page most of the time, once I'm there, but I'm having trouble getting to that point. Is this something you deal with, and if so, do you have any tips for handling it?

i'm gonna assume you mean the like outlining/drafting stage? like not 'writing' the story but just like making scene outlines and stuff? that's what I'll answer but if it's wrong pls send me a follow up and i'll fix it lmao

outlining is a very person-to-person thing because it fits the story and the style and the blah de blah de blah.

but...here are some basic templates you could build off of and make your own.

the 3 act outline. divide your story into 3 'acts'.

Act 1: set-up and exposition - in the Hobbit, for example, this act would be like the arrival of the dwarves, the setup of the journey, and the beginning of the journey.

This act looks different for every story. you can pick where this act ends, but it usually transitions into the second act right before a point of major conflict or the beginning of rising tension. this act includes the inciting incident and the first 'turning point'.

Act 2: confrontation - the beginning of the intense stuff. In the Hunger Games, this would look like the beginning of the Games, where Katniss is first realizing how dangerous it is, maybe the first time she gets seriously injured. it ends with the 'darkest moment', when the characters feel all is lost and they need a win.

Act 3: resolution - The final act contains the climax, the plot twist, and the fallout. it's the final battle, then any last obstructions to peace, and then the clean-up of everybody going home, wounds being bandaged, the end yayyy.

Personally, I think 3 acts is too vague, so I do 7 acts, which is basically 3 acts divided into two (plus one) to narrow down the different phases. You can absolutely mix it up depending on the story; really big intense stories might benefit from more detailed outlining just to keep the facts straight, whereas smaller stories might not need it.

play around, find what works. if you hate an outlining process, don't use it. don't butcher your story to fit it, just find something that works.

Here are some other misc tips for setting up a writing space:

keep a fact sheet handy. just basic things to remember, if you have a hard time with remembering setting locations (me cough cough) draw up a lil map to keep it straight.

a goal checklist for the part/chapter. write out generally where you want the story to go in that place, and some need-to-happen things. this can help for writer's block, if you don't know what to write next.

remember it's okay to write out of order. make a separate document for things that you liked but don't necessarily have a 'place' in the story yet. keep it on a back tab and if you realize 'oh that piece of dialogue would be great here' do an ol' copy paste and ta daaa

I hope this answered your question and helped out anyone else who needed this! if it didn't please message me again (no hard feelings my skull is thicker than Oscar's ass) and I will write a follow up!

xox love ya

[theriverwild]

One Year

I published what is now the first chapter of Autocorrelation a year ago. Twelve months later and I've got nearly 675k posted on AO3, another 100+k in my WIPS folder, and three different fic universes.

Whoa.

I'll be the first to admit, brevity, or finely crafted prose, are not my skills. Plenty of writers might post 1/10th of my WC with x10 of the quality. But I'm proud of my stories, of the plots that came to me in late nights or between meetings or the hundred of ideas I had watching and re-watching the Rings of Power.

(And I wax philosophical self-reflection on writing below the cut.)

I started off by thinking I would write my whole head canon of an in-universe world that lined up (insofar as possible with weird timelines and multiple versions of Tolkien's own histories), with TROP, LOTR, The Hobbit, The Silmarillion, and other lesser known Tolkien works in his Legendarium.

Of course the goal was to create a believable HEA for Sauron and Galadriel and I'm getting there! His redemption arc can't happen overnight, he did some real bad shit. But he's immortal, the Elves are immortal, and reckoning and reconciliation might be approached reluctantly, but also seem somewhat of an inevitability for eternal beings. They can't exactly toss everyone to the void each time one does something unspeakable. There'd be no one left in 100,000 years.

I digress. It's a saga. And while I don't like every plot decision and have put out some clunky scenes to get from A to B, on the whole, I not-so-humbly think it's alright!

Land of Enchantment and Kingdom of Rust are my foray into darkfic. But if anyone's keeping track, I do like a good fix it, even if it means confronting challenging and uncomfortable topics in the comfort and safety of fiction.

And then there's my Fluff AU which is not a WIP as I simply post sequential one-shots whenever I feel like it. Nothing but domestic fluff and smut with the teeniest bit of angst or hurt/comfort to keep it interesting.

If I don't finish one of my WIPS it means I died. I've really enjoyed writing and it's been a delightful journey to try something new (writing fiction), learn about and join fandom, share the brainrot, and interact with anyone who likes my stories even a fraction as much as I do.

Thank you to everyone who has welcomed me to this space and an extra special thank you to anyone who dared to read something I wrote, whether you liked it or not.

Cheers to another year of my new favorite pastime and a hyperfixation that's not going anywhere any time soon.