#this gifset brought to you by the 'no close up left behind' initiative

[cowboyshit]

[sonderthroughthestreets]

Souls of the Underworld (Greek Myth AU)

Hi!!! I’ve been working on something for a while now and this is the first time I’m attempting something like this. This is a Greek Myth AU for sobbe and I don’t have everything figured out but I’m really excited to see where this goes! I’ll post the link but you can read it here too. I might have longer chapters going forward. Hope you enjoy reading it!

A/N: It’s an AU where they are demigods and it’s mainly centred around the Hades and Persephone myth. Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst. No warnings apply (for this chapter) 1861 words

AO3

Special thanks to @to-enter-polaris (whose gifset themes had started all this) @fvae @robbesdriesen and @lieverobbe for helping me with this! I love you all dearly💞

She wasn't always like this.

It wasn’t always messy words screamed in anger and torn apart syllables. It wasn’t shattered glass and shattered parts of herself, a wreckage in the storm. And it wasn’t a stream of negligence, silence hanging in the air, unintentional at best.

In the cold nights of winter, it would feel like a ghost swallowed in the dark, like a walking corpse floating silently down the halls. The grey skies would engulf her whole being in the mornings, unable to let her move or get out of bed. She wouldn’t eat, she wouldn’t sleep, she wouldn’t tend to things that needed to be tended to. Some days she’d swear she’d burn this whole city, a bitterness in her throat as she grumbled the words lying under the covers.

But she wasn't always like this.

In the months of a new spring or in the sweet heat of the summer, she would be different, completely reborn of ashes. It was as if her body would wake up from slumber, rejuvenated and refreshed, and in the midst of her slowly healing soul, she would hold a small, little boy in her arms. She would sway him and sing him lullabies to sleep, and as he got older, she would kiss his injuries and welcome him to her bed when he had nightmares. And when he got older still, she would run her fingers through his dark hair and she would make him breakfast, cutting up fruit for him. She would lay kiwis, strawberries, blueberries, and blackberries, really any kind of berry, on a plate. Oranges and melons, apples and bananas. But as he got even older still, she told him that pomegranates were her favourite.

He would watch her slice open the rind and fiddle with the seeds, a yellow hazy glow surrounding her. The details of her face were hard to decipher, but her smile and warmth was there. It was a warmth as radiant as the sun. And that warmth would just slip away. Just when he felt like he could reach up and touch her, she always slipped away.

“Robbe,” he heard her voice, sweet as honey in the thick air. It echoed and faded into ringing.

“Robbe.”

His eyes abruptly opened and his body jolted in bed. Light peeked from the windows of his shared apartment, illuminating his room. The ringing hadn’t stopped and he realized it was the alarm on his phone buzzing. He let out a groan and turned it off. When his eyes focused on the screen, they widened to see the time. 08:35. He was late. He was very, very late.

Jumping out of bed, he threw on the shirt closest to him and headed for the bathroom. It was locked and as Robbe jostled the doorknob, he knew who was inside.

“Milan! Milan come on,” he yelled through the door. He brought his ear closer to hear him singing in the shower, completely unaware of his state of panic. Robbe sighed.

Just then, Zoë emerged from her room shuffling through the purse in her hands. She had an almost frantic look on her face as well.

“Robbe, have you seen my charger? I can’t find it and I have to meet Senne soon,” she asked him.

Sure enough, she was dressed for the fall weather, wearing a loose beige sweater layered over a fitted black full-sleeve, her blonde hair immaculately straight and her lips tainted with her favourite red lipstick. The effort wasn’t just all for Senne, but Robbe could smell the perfume he helped her buy and he noticed the extra rings she wore on her fingers. He could sense her frustration in not wanting to be late, to see him as soon as possible.

“Maybe try under the couch cushions,” he suggested. “Things always get stuck there.”

As Zoë turned into the living room to squeeze her hands through the cushions, Robbe tried knocking once more, calling out Milan’s name. When she returned with her charger, she thanked him and gave him a look of realization.

“Shouldn’t you be in class by now?” she asked.

“Slept in. And Milan is not helping,” Robbe rolled his eyes.

“Milan!” Zoë knocked. She turned back to Robbe. “He’ll be out soon. I hope,” she added. “We’re still meeting up tonight, right?”

She doubled checked her bag for her keys, her phone, and other essentials, then looked up to see how distracted Robbe looked. His mind was elsewhere, drifting through the memories of his dream, eyes fixated to the side. He could feel her watching him.

“Robbe?” Zoë asked. Robbe’s brown eyes lifted to meet hers finally and he tried to muster up the best smile he could manage.

“Yeah,” he said. Zoë didn’t look convinced but she also didn’t want to push him, especially when both of them were pressed for time and she knew how much Robbe didn’t like being late. So instead she opted to reach out and squeeze his shoulder with a solemn smile.

“I’ll see you tonight, then,” she said as she hurriedly left the apartment, the door clicking closed.

Robbe heard the shower stop and a humming Milan with a pink towel on his head opened the bathroom door.

“Finally!” he threw his hands up as he entered, ignoring Milan teasing him with a

“Wow, someone’s in a grumpy mood.” -

By the time Robbe rushed outside with his bike, the sun hid behind the clouds of grey skies. It smelled like rain, the petrichor oozing off the streets of Antwerp and as he rode, pedalling faster than ever, his energy depleted. His initial panic had worn off and now he just felt dread about going to class. As he turned a corner to the university, his mind kept seeping memories from his dream this morning. He always felt a twinge of bittersweet whenever he thought about his mother, but she never left his mind or heart.

The time spent with her in the summers, laughter floating through the air and the feeling of sadness when autumn came and she had to leave or the lonely winters when he was younger and it was just him and his papa, it all still burned in his memory. He’d just seen her the past month, but she had left again for therapy treatment. He’d speak with his dad from time to time with awkward pleasantries shared, but it just wasn’t the same, What little time he could spend with her, he cherished and whenever she left, he felt a gaping hole in his chest. God, he missed his mama.

Robbe quietly snuck into the lecture hall for his plant biology course, shaking his curls and trying not to rustle his brown jacket as he took it off. He sat in his seat next to Yasmina who gave him a squinty-eyed look.

“What?” he whispered.

“You’re late,” she whispered back.

“Yeah, and?”

“You’re never late.”

He glanced at her, her olive green hijab perfectly wrapped around her head and her pens laid on the desk neatly next to her notebook. Always on time, always prepared.

“Sorry,” was all he could say as he took out his own notebook, irritated that it was true but he couldn’t do anything about it now.

Yasmina looked like she wanted to say something but just then the door to the class opened and a student walked in. He slipped by unseen and promptly took what seemed to be the only seat available: next to Robbe. Others may not have noticed him, but Robbe’s eyes had followed him all the way until he sat down. He was donned in all black, shirt, jeans, jacket all black and his bleached blond hair looked almost white under the fluorescent lights. He had a strong jawline and perfectly tanned skin, radiating a glow Robbe didn’t know was possible.

When he glanced over at him, Robbe had turned his head back to his notebook so fast, he might have gotten whiplash. He tried to focus on the professor and his notes instead. Scribbling down the names of plants being mentioned, he also tried to slow his breathing. But that was pointless when the boy leaned over to look at his writing.

“You write the names in Latin and Greek?” he asked.

Robbe wasn’t expecting that question, yet he lifted his head to answer.

“Yeah,” he drawled slowly.

“Strange,” was all the boy said before looking straight ahead to the professor.

And Robbe didn’t know why but it irked him. For as long as he could remember, he’d been able to read and write in Greek and he would always accompany any Latin with Greek. Who was this guy, coming into class late, not even notebooks or a laptop open for notes, and what made him feel the need to comment on his notes? He hadn’t even seen him in class before now. If it wasn’t for the fact that he still felt groggy after waking up late, he’d probably say something, but instead he seethed in silence for the next hour and a half.

Once class ended and everyone packed up to leave, Robbe saw him glance over at him one more time, like he was deciding something, unsure and suspicious. Like he was sensing something. Sensing him.

Then he left.

“We’re studying Thursday for the midterm, right?” Yasmina piped up behind him. Robbe was almost startled.

“Yep,” he told her. “At 16:00?”

“Sounds good. Who was that?” she tilted her head at the now empty space where the boy had been.

“I don’t know. Never seen him before in this class,” Robbe shrugged.

“Me neither. Probably just transferred from another course or got off the waitlist for this one.”

“Probably.”

“I’m sorry I can’t make it tonight for the get-together,” Yasmina said as she lifted her bag. Robbe, his flat mates, and all their friends planned to spend some time together tonight at the apartment. It had been a while since all of them had been together, what with school and their own lives muddling in-between. Second year in uni for Robbe was turning out to be much easier than his first, but he still wanted to find time to dedicate to relaxing with his friends. Yasmina had been able to make it once before, but mostly she had to keep missing them.

“That’s ok. You know, you don’t have to apologize every time,” Robbe smiled at her.

“I know,” she returned the smile. “It’s just I really have to help out my parents and I wish I could be there.”

“Next time,” he blinked with a slight nod, lips curving up with sincerity.

“Maybe you could invite your new friend, too,” she teased.

“Again, I don’t know him,” he rolled his eyes.

While walking out of class together, he tried to ignore the nagging feeling inside of him that he would, get to know him that is. The nauseating feeling that irony would catch up to him. That feeling that there was something about that boy and he couldn’t be sure about him either.

The one that told him he sensed something in him too.

[littlespoonevan]

“please stay” for gallavich 🥺🥰

ok so the other week i saw gifset of the policeman telling ian mickey escaped prison during s7 and people were discussing the suggestion ian had visited mickey more than once so obviously i had to write it. so here’s a little snippet of ian visiting mick in juvie/prison over the years - i hope you like it

(this got angsty in the middle lol sorry)

*

Ian had been nervous when he’d first shown up tovisit Mickey in juvie, too afraid that Mickey might refuse to see him and notat all strong enough to deal with that kind of rejection. But Mickey had agreed to see him – not only that,he’d seemed happy to see him.

Well, as happy as Mickey ever allows anyone else tosee.

Sure, Mickey scoffs when Ian says, “I miss you,” butIan can see the way he hesitates before he starts throwing out threats, thequiet surprise in his expression before it melts into something else. Ian is convinced it’s understanding.

It’s what prompts him to reach out, to reach forMickey even though he can’t touch him.

“Take your hand off the glass,” Mickey says and Iandoes but he still has to bite back a smile.

He lets Mickey change the subject then, happy to lethim complain about his inmates. It’s inane conversation that doesn’t mean much– even Ian can tell the majority of Mickey’s threats are empty ones – but hestill revels in listening to Mickey talk.

He really fucking misses him.

All too soon their time is up and Ian has to fightthe way his face falls at the warden’s warning.

“It was good seeing you,” he says hesitantly,watching the way Mickey’s expression flickers before going carefully back toneutral. “Can I come see you again?”

Mickey huffs, “Do what you want, man, I don’t care.”

Ian nods, trying not to let himself feel dejecteduntil Mickey’s fingers tap against the glass once – so quickly you’d miss it ifyou weren’t looking. Ian blinks in surprise, gaze shooting up from whereMickey’s hand has disappeared from the table to Mickey’s face.

Mickey nods silently and hangs up the phone.

*

Juvie the first time had been shit but relativelymanageable. Juvie the second time was torture.

The first time he’d been able to pretend he didn’tmiss Ian, pretend he didn’t care about him and that they were nothing but fuckbuddies. And in spite of all that he’d known Ian would wait for him in somecapacity. Even if he’d been off fucking other guys he’d still want Mickeybecause what they had was good.

Now…

Ian probably hates him, the last words Mickey had saidto him were that they were over, and Mickey misses him so fucking much he feelslike he can’t breathe.

When he’s told he’s got a visitor he assumes it’sMandy since it’s always Mandy, what he doesn’t expect is to see Ian sittingthere on the other side of the glass. He’s got a fresh buzzcut and hisshoulders look bigger with the way his t-shirt stretches across his chest butit’s the look on his face what gets to Mickey the most. The look of nervousdetermination like he’s more than willing to tell Mickey, “fuck you,” if hequestions him for coming.

Christ, Mickey wants to touch him.

He sits down heavily in his seat, putting the phoneto his ear and gripping it too tightly. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ian says back, voice carefully devoid of anyemotion. “How’ve you been?”

Mickey shrugs, averting his gaze, because lookingdirectly at Ian after so long hurts his eyes. “I mean, it’s juvie.”

Ian nods like he gets it even though he’s neverstepped foot in this place unless it’s to visit Mickey.

“You?” Mickey asks then, unsure of how to navigatethis conversation when he’d felt so angry the last time he saw Ian.

You’renothing but a warm mouth to me haunts him at night. Ian’snot a warm mouth. He’s warm everything. He’s the only fucking thing that’s evermade Mickey feel warm.

Ian lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Okay, Iguess.” He falls silent for another beat before looking up at Mickey under hislashes. “For what it’s worth, I think Frank drank away whatever brain cellsregistered what we were doing. He hasn’t brought it up since – I don’t eventhink he remembers.”

Mickey swallows hard, forcing himself to nod. “Kindafigured when my dad didn’t sic anyone on me in here to send me to theinfirmary.”

Ian’s mouth pinches into a tight line and Mickeywants nothing more than to reach out and smooth it out.

“Would he really do that?” Ian asks and Mickey wantsto scoff or roll his eyes or call Ian fucking deluded but he’s too tired so hejust nods.

“Yeah,” he says, resigned. “He would.”

Ian’s quiet as he absorbs that, expression unreadablewhen he turns the full force of his gaze on Mickey again. “How long you gotleft?”

“Six months, I think. Maybe less if I get out on goodbehaviour.”

“Okay,” Ian replies, voice too soft, and Mickey wantsto remind him where the fuck they are but he can’t get the words out.

Ian taps the glass just once, seeming more like anervous habit than anything else, but it sets Mickey’s heart pounding in hischest for the rest of the night.

*

This is probably a mistake. In fact, it’s definitelya mistake.

But Ian feels like he’s drowning in plain sight andnobody can see it. He’s hollowed out inside and raw and broken and he just reallyfucking wants to see Mickey.

He hasn’t since the last time.

When Mickey showed him the tattoo and Ian had liedand said he’d wait. But he thinks he’d been lying more to himself than toMickey.

It’s just- fuck, he doesn’t want to put Mickeythrough this. Over and over again. He doesn’t want Mickey to see him like this.But he also can’t breathe and Mickey’s the only person who knows how his lungsare supposed to work.

Mickey freezes on the other side of the glass when hesees him, hand gripping the back of the chair where he’d been about to pull it outto sit down. Ian wouldn’t blame him if he threw the chair at the glass andstormed off. He deserves worse.

Mickey doesn’t do any of that though because Mickey’sa better person than him. Instead, he sits down, faltering for just a momentbefore he picks up the phone and puts it to his ear. “Fucking hell, Gallagher,”he breathes. “What happened?”

“Hey Mick,” Ian replies quietly. His voice doesn’teven sound like his. It seems to be permanently hoarse from disuse lately.

Mickey’s initial shock seems to have worn off,replaced by a deep-rooted look of concern that Ian feels all too familiar withnow. “Ian,” he says, like the name’sbeen ripped from his chest. “What’s wrong?”

Ian shrugs, hunching his shoulders. “Jus’ been a badday,” he mutters.

“Uh huh and how long’s this bad day been going onfor?”

Ian closes his eyes because Christ, Mickey knows him. Mickey sees through him everyfucking time.

“A month or two,” he admits finally, swallowing hardat the sadness in Mickey’s eyes.

“You takin’ your meds?” Mickey asks likes he’s afraidto even say it.

“They’re not helping,” Ian replies tremulously.

“So try different ones,” Mickey murmurs, voice asoothing balm on Ian’s soul. “Ian, you can’t pull yourself out of this on yourown.”

Ian nods, staring down at the table in front of himas he takes a steadying breath. “I know that.”

Neither of them speak for a moment and Ian isoverwhelmed with how much the yearning he feels for Mickey consumes him. God,he just wants to hold him once more.

“I’m sorry,” he says then, voice wavering as he meetsMickey’s eyes. “For trying to push you away. For what I said. For everything.”

Mickey seems so surprised he forgets to keep hisguard up and his face is too open, too vulnerable. Ian has never despised thepanel of glass between them more. “You mean that?” he asks eventually and Iannods fervently.

“I thought you’d be better off without me,” hereveals, ducking his head self-consciously.

“Ian, when the fuck have I ever been better offwithout you?” Mickey asks tiredly and Ian closes his eyes, forcing air into hislungs and back out again as he pushes back the burn behind his eyes.

“You shouldn’t have to put up with me when I’m likethis. It shouldn’t be this for therest of your life.”

Mickey stares at him, mouth working. “How ‘bout youlet me make that decision for myself, huh?”

Ian nods as his eyes travel across Mickey’s face.Fuck, he misses him. “I miss you,” he sighs.

“I miss you too,” Mickey says, almost choking on thewords. His eyes are shining when Ian looks at them and he doesn’t think when hereaches out, just presses his curled fist against the glass.

Mickey takes a shuddering breath as he watches himbefore his own knuckles mirror Ian’s.

“Eight years is really long time,” Ian whispers, thelump in his throat making it hard to speak properly.

“Yeah,” Mickey agrees, opening his mouth to say somethingelse before closing it again.

“Ian, can you just- Please stay,” he requests finally,shoulders hunched and head bowed like he’s already expecting a rejection.

“I’ll stay,” Ian replies quietly and Mickey suddenly seemsto breathe easier.

Ian stays until visiting hours are over, neither ofthem really even talking – just watching each other, committing one another’s facesto memory once again.

“I’ll come back soon,” he promises, forcing himselfto stand when the warden starts eyeing him irritably.

He touches the glass one last time and Mickey’s stillgripping the phone so hard it looks like it’s going to break but he nods.

Ian’ll come back.

*

Mickey had felt sick to his stomach stepping backinside prison. It hadn’t been the usual fear – it’d been different.

Fear of rejection tangled with nerves andanticipation.

It had all melted away the moment Ian had looked athim though.

It’s been hours since then and Ian had climbed downoff his own bunk the second the guard had done his last check, crawling intoMickey’s and kissing him until both their mouths were raw. Now Ian’s lying onhis side against the wall, head pillowed on Mickey’s chest and Mickey can’tfucking believe this is something he gets to have again.

They’d talked before, not about much beyond how thefuck Ian ended up in here and muffled, “I missed you”s in between kisses. But theystill haven’t really talked about them.They’re quiet now, Mickey’s fingers gently trailing down between Ian’sshoulderblades and back up again.

Ian reaches for his shirt then and Mickey doesn’t getwhy he’s tugging at it until he catches sight of his own tattoo peeking outfrom behind the fabric. Mickey feels shame and embarrassment burn through himand he’s about to pull Ian’s hand away until Ian’s pushing up on his elbow abit and kissing Mickey’s heart, right where his own name sits.

Mickey swallows hard, hand coming up involuntarily totwist in Ian’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” Ian mumbles into his skin. And it’s notthe first time he’s said it but it still makes Mickey’s chest tighten.

“I know,” he says after a beat.

“It never went away,” Ian tells him, gaze boring intoMickey’s. “Loving you, I mean. It never went away.”

Mickey wets his lips and tries not to let hisemotions get the better of him. Searching for something to say, he lifts hisfree hand and reaches for Ian’s, folding their fingers together on top of hischest.

“I know that too,” he mumbles.

It never went away for Mickey either.

*

[cinnamaldeide]

#Hannigraham Meet-Cute Challenge

There’s just barely enough air to breath lately, summer has finally hit us in full force and all that is left for us... is fun. Fun at the seaside, fun with our psycho friends, fun with our precious, scruffy partners, and @funwithtyler​ fun reading lovely stories. Some of us have to combat this torrid heat to approach one very hot computer to type their very beautiful fanfictions and creations, but luckily for us we get to reap the benefits!

#29: Welcome to Widdershins Close by @zigzag-wanderer #110: Fancy meeting you by @mazephoenix #74: Going My Way by @fragile-teacup #55: A Face Like Yours by @hannibalsimago (now with fanart by @bayobayo) #13: Admirable Deceit by @cinnamaldeide​ #248: The night shift customer by @niceven-silace​ #3: You don’t see enough, you see too much by @fhimechan​ #1: Nigel’s Books by @murderfriesandgayguys {fanart} #186: Hello Gorgeous, Love Your Left Hook by @ishxallxgood #230: the aesthetics of pleasure by @exarite​ #116: Speed Dating by @ishxallxgood​ and @stratumgermanitivum #50: Evening Wedding by @emergencytrap {gifset}

You see our list of contributions is growing steadily and inexorably, but in this update I have the pleasure of including not only an incredible cooperation between our unstoppable @ishxallxgood and @stratumgermanitivum, but also an entirely new form of art, which is @emergencytrap’s nsfw gifset where the film Evening meets After the wedding.

As we had announced months ago, despite the name of our challenge, we’re allowing both Hannibal and HEU character, which means EveningWedding and Spacedogs, like in the case of our gifset and fanart, but also RoyalInstincts, DogsDogs, LucAdam, Kaisergram, whatever crosses your mind.

I’ll seize the opportunity and remind you of the #RareMeat fest, mostly on Twitter by now, which is exactly about these pairings. If you’re eager to write something involving Overgård and Galahad, for example, but you don’t know how or where they meet, only that a lot of snow is involved, consider selecting one of the prompts you see here (ง ื▿ ื)ว

#22: A is having a quiet night at home – that is, until A’s apartment neighbour begins blasting music. Frustration levels rising, A goes to knock on the neighbour’s door to ask them to keep it down… at the same time B, the resident on the other side, is about to. Need more detail? Click on the post.

#32: A checks into a cozy inn while on a cross-country road trip, beyond tired and ready to collapse. When A gets to the assigned room, he or she is in for a surprise! Someone else, B, is already in the room. Uh-oh.

#117: A is a professional assassin hired to take out a client’s cheating husband. But the client also spoke to B, a close friend, who has made it his/her’s own mission to also kill the husband. Unfortunately, both A and B have chosen the same night to do so, and it just so happens that B is a bit clumsy… and keeps getting in A’s way.

#143: A’s blind date just left, mumbling some sort of excuse about leaving the stove on. Confused and feeling rejected, A sits orders another beer at the bar, wondering where s/he went wrong. B, who had witnessed the situation, goes over and says sympathetically, “I think I know what went wrong… there’s something in your teeth.”

#162: A is interviewing potential roommates and is having very little luck. When it comes to B, A says, “I’m so sorry, I don’t think this is going to work. I can’t live with someone that I’d like to ask out.”

#166: A is at a coffee shop and sits down at a table, only to find a book on the chair. Intrigued, A starts flipping through it, and realizes it’s actually someone’s journal that had been left behind! And it’s fascinating. Unfortunately, B, the journal’s author, rushes back to retrieve it… and is horrified to see A reading it. But A, having gotten a feel for this person through his/her writing, asks if they want to go out sometime.

#176: A works at a pet store and is utterly surprised when B bursts through the door in a hurry and walks up to the cash without looking around. Out of breath, A says, “Please don’t ask why, but what do capybaras eat?”

#180: There has been a series of recent break-ins in A’s neighbourhood. B, a cop, knocks on A’s door to recommend safety measures and to ask if A has noticed anything peculiar — A hasn’t really seen anything, but invites the cop and his/her charming smile inside for coffee and a bit of false information so s/he might stay a while.

#207: A meets B and falls immediately for them, but B clearly doesn’t feel the same. After being rejected, A calls on Anteros, the avenger of unrequited love, to exact vengeance on B.

#210: A is a writer struggling to find inspiration for their next book. The publishers are breathing down their neck and the pressure is almost more than A can take. When A comes across an old Greek book in a thrift store, A brings it home and flips through the pages…. only to come across an old chant that was supposed to bring inspiration to those who read it out loud. A gives it a shot and… oh dear. Oh, oh dear. Somehow that summoned B, one of the Muses, to A’s living room.

#215: A is brought in to the police station for questioning about a crime they know nothing about and is put in an interrogation room… with B, who is another suspect in this particular case.

#231: A is hanging out with a friend but ends up stopping to look at some lingerie in a shop window. A is still chatting away, thinking that their friend has stopped with them also, and turns to where they assume their friend is to jokingly ask: “Wouldn’t I look sexy in that?” But it turns out that the friend had kept walking and it was B, a total stranger, who A had spoken to.

#232: A is in a public place and temporarily leaves their things where they are seated so that they can use the bathroom. When A returns, A notices B, the person sitting at the next table, putting A’s phone back on the table. A demands to know what they were doing with their phone, and B tells them that the phone was ringing non-stop and it was bothering everyone. Also… “Your friend is drunk and I think they want to sleep with you.”

#239: A is sitting in a cafe trying to casually read their book, but is distracted by B’s loud phone conversation at the table over. B tells a joke over the phone, which makes A crack up unexpectedly – B looks over at A, annoyed that they were eavesdropping, but also appreciative that at least someone liked their joke! B hangs up and offers to tell A another.

#240: A stops at the pub near their house to pick up some food on the way home (they make the best fries in the neighbourhood) when A receives a phone call – and some terrible news. A starts crying and B, the bartender, asks A what’s wrong. As A opens up to them, B gives A a drink on the house, and helps talk them through it.

#246: A was fatally wounded in an accident and suddenly finds themself looking down at their own lifeless body in confusion. B is a reaper and offers A guidance… but A doesn’t want to do the whole follow the light bullshit. A wants to flirt with the cute reaper.

#252: A is in the public library and notices a strange book that looks like it doesn’t belong in this section. A moves along to another genre, but it seems that this book is in every section… almost like it’s following A. How peculiar! When A finally picks it up to see what exactly it is, B appears out of thin air, and simply says, “I’ve been waiting fifty years for you.”

You may have noticed the lack of line breaks in this post. Well, it’s not the only thing I cannot do anymore on this platform, and it would be a big leap to say I’m more or less leaving Tumblr because I can’t do anymore what I previosly did, but that’s exactly what I’m doing. And I’m not alone, apparently.

This challenge, as well as the Accidental Sex initiative, could go on only thanks to those who so kindly kept the word spread for @fhimechan​ and myself. This time, I really thank @zigzag-wanderer​, @mistikfir​, @diemetzgermeisterin​, @cassraven​, @ishxallxgood​, @tiggymalvern​, @crisisoninfintefandoms​, @dyggyd​, @evakkorotta​, @thatthreetoedsloth​, @hannibalsimago​, @xchrysaliswhispersx, @bonesandscales​, @fragile-teacup​, @psychoheu​ and @cinelitchick​, you’ve all helped us keeping this well into Tumblrgeddon, but I’m sad to say this platform is not helping anymore. We’ll have to close this challenge before we had planned and hope the next one will be more fruitful.

In short, hereby starts your last month to choose one of those fantastic prompts and fill it, in whatever capacity you like: fanfiction, fanart, gifset, smoke signals, Hannigraham or RareMeat, whatever crosses your mind. We’re here to reap and to include in our collection, we appreciate your commitment and hope you won’t be mad at us for letting go of this challenge before due time.