#thank you to everyone who submitted a prompt <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[beefscrap]

!!! DESIGN A STORY CHARACTER CONTEST !!!

Finally, it’s here! To celebrate 400 PLUS followers now, I’m hosting a WOF design challenge/contest! Your mission is to design a character that’s going to appear in TBoFS 2. The character is already decided, and you’ll be given information/prompts to design them. First place winner will have their design be the official design for the character, and anyone who doesn’t win can keep theirs! So keep in mind that if you win, I’ll be the ‘owner’ of your design and the character.

!!! GENERAL INFO !!!

- 1ST PLACE PRIZE: Your design will be the official design in the story! You also get a free dumb doodle from me of any OC (or character) you want.

- 2ND PLACE + 3RD PLACE: You’ll each receive a doodle, as well as being featured as winners when they’re announced! Of course!

- Anyone else who submits a design will get honorable mentions, and your design will be linked when winners are announced.

- Very little artistic bias is involved. Not being able to ‘draw well’ isn’t an issue, as long as you have good ideas and a good imagination!

- DESIGNS ARE DUE BY [ Friday, December 20th ] !!! I’ll have results by December 25th!

- I’ll personally be picking the top 3, then put a poll up that lasts for 1 DAY. This will determine the winners.

- TO SUBMIT YOUR DESIGN: Either tag me in a post or send in my asks inbox! I will be reblogging/posting with the hashtag #TBOFS2DESIGNCHALLENGE (and you can post with the tag too ofc!)

- Please ask questions if you have them!

!!! RULES !!!

- I have faith in people but PLEASE BE NICE! I don’t want fighting for any reason, I don’t want unwanted criticism of people’s designs, etc. I want this to be enjoyable for EVERYONE, even if you don’t win!

- You may only submit ONE DESIGN! If there’s some sort of issue where you need to resubmit, just let me know!

- Another reminder that the first place winner gives me ownership of the design, and I’ll put them up on my Toyhouse folder. Please don’t submit to win if you’re uncomfortable with this!

- I have faith about this too, but just in case: don’t submit inappropriate art. If I find out you draw gross feral art/sexualize dragons I won’t accept your design and you’re blocked.

- Similarly, no design you submit should be offensive or hateful in any way.

!!! DESIGN INFO !!! finally the fun stuff

- The character is a PURE NIGHTWING.

- I prefer to stick to MOSTLY canon color choices, but some deviation from this is welcome! Ask if you aren’t sure, but feel free to look at the character designs in my TBoFS Toyhouse folder. That should give a good idea.

- Adding accessories and even little headcanons for the character are fully welcomed and encouraged (keeping in mind that some headcanons may not end up to be true, lol!)

- Name ideas are welcome, too!

- YOUR GENERAL PROMPT IS: a snobby, intelligent, standoffish Nightwing who does not believe in animus magic as it exists.

- Keeping my prompt pretty vague so you can have fun! The best designs (to me) are ones that’re recognizable. Not necessarily jam packed with accessories and colors and stuff… just recognizable.

- Your designs may be sketched, lined, etc, but my main requirements are that it’s at least a fullbody + colored. You CAN add more visuals to the design if you want (front face view, mouth view, paws, wing view, etc etc). It does NOT have to be digital!

Woo hoo! Have fun and thank you again for your support!

[enjoythesilentworld]

I can’t believe I almost missed the chance to ask you to write smth. That’s what I get for having a busy tumblr dash. Anyway. “Join me” as a prompt pls? 💜

hello my darling Lia. you know i'd write anything you asked me to. for today, here's a (not) little ficlet in which Simon neglects to read the fine print and somehow it actually turns out really well for him.

💜enjoy xx

Alone in a foreign country, Simon must find a stranger to join him on the romantic couples food tour he’s accidentally booked. (a 2.3k strangers to lovers, fake dating, speed-run of an AU) if you see this again for day 2 of simon's month dont worry bout it

Simon curses under his breath as the confirmation email comes in.

So, he’d booked the food tour a little quickly, possibly without reading all the fine print. He can’t even blame a language barrier because he’s in Spain and, thanks to his mamá, his Spanish is really better than his English.

The solo-travel thing had been a bit of a last-minute decision. Spurred by the post university graduation crisis of, ‘Oh Fuck What Am I Doing With My Life?’ whichled twenty-somethings around the globe to grab a backpack and buy a one-way plane ticket. Simon’s decision was also encouraged by the fact that he’d woken up one day and realized he was in a toxic relationship, quickly packing his bags and saying Hejdå to a two-year relationship. He’s only about three weeks into the whole self-discovery shtick, but it seems to be going well so far. He enjoys the independence of it all. Not that he’s not independent at home — in fact, he’s been a little bit too much of an adult since he was 10 — but more so that he doesn’t have to worry about anyone else. Simon goes to museums when he wants to, stays for as little or as much time as he wants. He eats when he wants, goes to shows he likes, and doesn’t spend every second of every day worrying about everyone else. (Of course, he’s called his mama and sister nearly every day since he left, but he’s working on it.) He also, apparently, incorrectly books guided food tours that are actually romantic couples excursions. 

Glancing around the nearly empty breakfast room at his hostel, he chews on his options. One is to show up to this tour alone and look like a dumb tourist. Two is to find someone willing to go on it with him.

There’s a pair of British girls in the corner, giggling over their plates of breakfast. Simon recognizes them from the stand-up comedy show the hostel had organized the night before; they’d been attached at the hip the whole night. Slim chance of separating them. Crowding around the cereal bar is a group of American guys who all look like fraternity brothers. If Simon remembers correctly, he’d overheard some vile words from them in the bar last night, and so he’s is not too keen on participating in any sort of tour with any of them, romantic or not.

The only other person in the room is sitting a few seats down at the communal table: a very good-looking man with light auburn hair and high cheek bones. His long fingers, nails painted a deep purple, hold up a book with one hand and gingerly lift a coffee cup to his lips with the other. He’s dressed quite casually, in an un-done button up over a tank-top and baggy trousers, but somehow makes it look refined. Simon noticed him yesterday afternoon in the hostel café, noticed the way the man’s eyes tracked Simon from across the room.

His pretty brown eyes are no longer locked on the pages of the book, but have found Simon again and caught him staring. Simon forces himself to hold his ground and smiles, glancing down at the book title. It’s by a Swedish author, he realizes, and a gay Swedish author at that.

Gesturing with his head, Simon asks, “Is it good?”

The pretty man places his coffee cup down clumsily. “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“I’ve read it a million times,” he says, closing the book. “I’m Wille.” 

The light blush on his cheeks is endearing.

“Simon.”

Wille smiles softly and nods, “Trevligt.”

He’s polite and looks suspiciously rich to be in this hostel, but his eyes are kind and has a rainbow pin on his tote bag so, before Wille can say anything else, Simon slides one chair closer.

“Are you doing anything today, Wille?”

Wille moves to the chair across from Simon. “Nope.”

Simon props his head on both his hands and gazes at this beautiful stranger, wondering why he didn’t speak to him the day before. “Would you like to join me on a romantic food tour around Barcelona?”

Wille quirks an eyebrow, then mirrors Simon’s position. “I would love to.”

The tour doesn’t begin for a few hours, so they sit and chat while the breakfast room fills up around them. Wille laughs when Simon explains how he’s gotten himself into this situation, and the sound sets little sparks bursting in Simon’s chest. What luck he’s had this morning.

Simon learns that Wille is also at the beginning of a self-discovery trip, running away from a family legacy and a desk job he desperately did not want. He also learns that Wille is incredibly funny and quite flirty, though whenever Simon starts flirting back he becomes incredibly flustered. His stare, though, is the thing that gets Simon the most. Wille looks at him so intently, gaze flitting between Simon’s eyes and his mouth, listening to every word and seemingly staring directly into Simon’s soul. It would be troubling if he wasn’t so goddamn beautiful.

The conversation flows so easily between them that Simon, so wrapped up in Wille’s laugh and crooked teeth, almost forgets they have somewhere to be.

They walk quickly through the streets of Barcelona together, heading towards the café at which they’re meant to meet the rest of their tour group. Wille’s fingers brush against Simon’s a few times, though his voice never falters, so Simon isn’t sure if it’s just him that feels the jolt of electricity each time.

“You said this is a romantic food tour?” Wille asks, reaching out to pull Simon out of the way of a passing cart.

The city is bustling with life around them, the sun shining hot between the buildings, people hanging off balconies, chatting with neighbors or stringing up laundry to dry. It’s absolutely beautiful, and somehow it seems a bit more colorful than it had the day before.

“Yes.”

“Is it going to be obvious that you and I just met?” he says, letting Simon go ahead of him to squeeze through the crowd, staying close, with a hand hovering over Simon’s lower back.

“Well,” Simon muses, “we could make it a bit of a game. If you’re down.”

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Wille’s eyes light up with mischief. “I’m down. What kind of game?”

Simon chuckles and shrugs, checking his phone to make sure they’re still headed in the right direction. “We could pretend to be a couple. You know, really put on a show.”

“That sounds very, very fun, Simon.”

For the last ten or so minutes of their walk, they establish some basic rules. They’ll hold hands and gaze lovingly in each other’s eyes and ramble to anyone who asks about their beautiful love story. The goal is to one-up every other couple there by acting sickeningly in love. By the time they make it to the café, only a few minutes late, they’re holding onto each other and cackling at the increasingly ridiculous ‘meet-cute’ ideas they’ve come up with.

There are three other couples in the tour: one looks like a very young newly-wed couple, another is a pair of middle-aged ladies, and the third is a pretentious-looking, older couple who already look fed up with everyone else. As the tour-guide starts on their spiel, Wille wraps a tender arm around Simon, pulling him close and whispering jokes into his ear, somehow making them look more like a couple than even the newly-weds.

They sit down to start, and Wille lets Simon order for them off the selected menu. They feed each other bites of tomato toast and gently wipe crumbs from each other’s cheeks, all the while giggling to each other and only half-listening to the explanations of the food. It also seems they’ve unintentionally started a competition with the other young couple of who-can-look-more-in-love. When Wille hands Simon a napkin before he can even ask to wipe up his splashed juice, the man of the other couple tries to lovingly whisper something in his wife’s ear but gets brushed off as she’s too busy listening intently to the tour guide. When Simon holds out a forkful of potato omelette for Wille, the man tries to do the same, but his wife shakes her head, smiling, and fondly pats his cheek then turns back to her own plate.

As they move through the next few stops — a restaurant, a food cart, and an open-air market — he and Wille fall even further into their ‘game’. There’s plenty of very intentional touches and exchanged loving glances, but Wille also asks Simon about himself. About his family and his dreams and where he’s going next. Simon learns even more about Wille’s obsession with frogs and his love for lakes and his passion for writing. The rest of the tour group fades away, and things between them start to feel a little less like a game and a little more real. The prolonged eye contact becomes less playful and more loaded. The lingering touches become less out of competition and more out of some deep urge. Simon’s eyes flick more often down to Wille’s lips, watching him lick cream off his fingers or clean gazpacho off his spoon.

Maybe it’s the wine, but as they head to their last stop of the day, hand in hand, trailing behind the group, Simon finds himself hoping Wille isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He’d made a few friends over the past few weeks, but it always seemed to work out that when he was having a great time, the person would be leaving the very next day, heading off to some new country or heading back home.

Wille grins over at him and points out a pretty sculpture, mumbling something smart about the artist and looking absolutely ethereal in the light of the early evening with his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Maybe it isn’t just the wine.

Their final destination is small tapas place on the beach. Simon and Wille have given up any pretense of listening to the tour guide or of playing their little game. Instead, they sit close at their table and chat about their favorite memories growing up and tell embarrassing stories. Simon, as he’s done at every place, translates every bit of Spanish on the menu and giggles helplessly as he corrects Wille’s pronunciation. They share a plate of pulpo and split a liter of sangria and it’s one of the most perfect days Simon’s ever experienced.

“I’m really glad I misread that website,” Simon says, fiddling with his fingers. When he glances up, he finds Wille grinning at him. He takes Simon’s hand.

“Me too.”

After the tour concludes and their guide bids they all farewell, their group mostly scatters. But, Wille and Simon stay at their table, finishing off their pitcher and becoming increasingly rowdy with their jokes. After a few annoyed looks from their waiter, they collect their things and stumble down to the beach. Simon jumps onto Wille’s back, laughing loudly and savoring the feeling of Wille’s strong hands wrapped securely around his legs. Wille wades out into the shallow water of the beach, and Simon yelps when he pretends to nearly drop them both into the cool water.

Eventually, Wille lets him down but takes his hand instead, and they walk down the sand, talking about the food tour and realizing that they maybe didn’t pay attention at all.

There’s a warm buzz in Simon’s body, making him giddy and calm all at once. When they make it to a small concrete pier, Wille pulls him out to the edge of it and they stand, arms wrapped around each other, staring out at the Mediterranean.

Simon sigh happily. “Beautiful.”

“Yeah. Very,” Wille says breathlessly, and Simon looks up to see Wille staring down at him. He smacks Wille’s chest playfully.

“You’re an idiot, Wille.”

Wille laughs, “I’m being serious!”

“Sure,” Simon hums, turning back to the water, biting back a smile.

“Hey.” He turns back again and Wille’s face has sobered, and he’s now gazing down at Simon with that same intense stare. “You are beautiful, Simon. You’re also funny and kind and— I had a really, really great time today.”

He squirms slightly at the force of the words, the conviction in Wille’s tone, but can’t help but let his eyes flicker down to Wille’s lips. He’s so close and looks so pretty in the cool lighting of the twilight evening and Simon’s never thought it could be possible to fall for someone like this, this hard, in one day.

“Me, too,” Simon whispers. Then, “Wille?”

“Yes?”

“Can I—”

Wille nods, gasping, “Yes,” before Simon can even finish his sentence and then they’re both rushing forward.

Finally, after thinking about it nearly all day, Wille’s lips connect with his. He tastes like fruity wine and olives and something so Wille, and Simon melts into his arms, coming up onto his tiptoes to press further into him. Wille’s hair is soft under his fingertips and though they’ve basically been touching all day, this is different and overwhelming and everything.

When they break apart, giggling into each other, the lights have come on along the paved pathway by the beach.

“Maybe we should head back?” Wille suggests, looking just as much like he doesn’t want to head back as Simon feels. But, it’s getting late and he’s also starting to feel tired from all the wine and walking, so Simon nods and takes Wille’s hand again.

They trail slowly back through the streets, pausing occasionally to exchange a quick kiss, or to slip into an alcove and exchange a slightly longer one. By the time they make it back to their building, Simon’s limbs feel syrupy with sleep and his chest feels warm with the events of the day.

Two steps up the stairs to the front door of the hostel, Simon stops and turns.

“Where will you be tomorrow?” he asks, looking down at Wille.

Wille smiles. “Wherever you are.”