New Zendaya Louis Vuitton Campaign I’m UP

He’s like a toddler exhausted a long hard day of playing with blocks for an hour

the cry I let out

happy birthday jaw chokeonher!

love this goober that i do not know

my angel princess

As a slut for Tashi I feel so bad that in most challenger stuff she's always the least picked. Where's the love for my pretty princess? 🥺

right!!! :( </3

seems v apparent she is Not gonna win my last poll but i do have a few reqs for her so... tashi stuff on the horizon! but yeah i get the white boys are hot and u want to see them kiss but cmon... the original fujoshi is right there and i want her just as bad

ugh just look at her... my baby :(

Get a job. Take some writing classes.

okay, let's talk about this for a moment. a lot of my moots/oomfs have been getting a similar message in their inbox. i don't know if they're coming from the same person or not, and frankly, i don't care.

you are wasting time out of your day to leave a message that you are too cowardly to put an account behind, on a website that was created for the purpose of publicizing self-expression.

i don't care that you don't like my writing. i don't like my writing. i am upset because you are putting legitimate effort into bringing down other people who have absolutely zero impact on your day-to-day life. if anyone needs to get a job, anon, it's you.

i do not know what is possessing you to act with such cowardice, but whatever it is, i hope it gets better for you. in the mean time, stay out of the inboxes of creators who are volunteering their time and their efforts to enrich the lives of others.

i wish you good luck in the future.

PUT ME IN COACH

GIMME

bang bang bang punch punch pow pow. hair up, earrings out, etc etc.

AVA congratulations on 500! *dances*

for ask game > 🐓 you are in a fight, which tumblr account are you getting to help you?

HI THANK YOU SO SO MUCH!!!!! <3

this was honestly very easy for me to get down to two people, but i can't narrow it down any further:

@patrickzweigette and @jordiemeow i feel like we'd be a dream team. varying genres of humor and deadpan stares in a lethal mocktail.

OHHHH MY ANGEL BABY :(

Happy Challengers Anniversary #1 !!!

I present to you: Tashi Duncan’s Diary

Click for better quality

Author’s note

This is an interpretation exclusively based on the character.

I didn’t add much about Art or Patrick because it’s also a point of view where Tashi was only 18. A girl trying to figure out who she was —just like they were— and trying to build a life she could be proud of.

Before anyone tried to define her.

Some things she already knew: She wanted more. She wanted to be the best. She wanted to be herself.

This journal is my interpretation of that Version of Tashi.

It’s not perfect—it’s personal.

It’s a glimpse of her, through my eyes.

Thanks for reading. <3

YUCK!

Or: Art and Tashi really should’ve thought harder about becoming friends with benefits

an: sorry the formatting is so wonky?? posting from my phone so it looks odd. anyways this is for the peoples princess @diyasgarden . My wife. Heart.

————————————————————————

To be fair, she wasn’t thinking straight, so she can’t really be held accountable. Sure, she’d always been conscious of Art’s incredibly conspicuous feelings for her, and she wasn’t stupid enough to miss the envy he had for Patrick. All over her. You can’t blame a girl for getting a little high on the power trip. So, when it happened the first time, laying in bed entirely bare besides the brace on her knee, and she rolled over to see him staring at her like that, all warm and gooey like melted chocolate, she knew she’d regret this before it even started. It was so sweet. Gross. But hey, she wasn’t thinking straight. After all, your frontal lobe isn’t fully developed until you hit 25, and she’s skating through the end of her teens.

Now, Art on the other hand, was not grieving quite as much as Tashi was. No ended relationships, at least not romantically, and certainly no career-ending, or at the very least damaging, injuries. Of course, these would only hit him in his 30s, when he’d been molded into the shape Tashi should have taken. To him, this was his shot. I mean, really, he can’t be held accountable. All’s fair in love and war and whatever he and Patrick had going on over Tashi could definitely constitute both. So, yeah, when he was walking her to her dorm from a failed attempt at a practice match, Tashi throwing in the towel early, or more accurately, her body throwing in the towel for her, and she looked up at him with those big, wet, sad brown eyes, it’s really not his fault that he kissed her. I mean, who wouldn’t?

So, it’s been a month or two. A month (or two) of Art dedicating himself to learning how Tashi ticks better than she does, like he’s trying to master a new craft. He handles her with all the delicateness of an ancient masterpiece, careful brushes of his fingers against hard lines and curved edges. He’s clearly been studying, taking mental notes on what makes her brows pinch together in that way he’s quickly come to adore, and what doesn’t. Tashi likes x, Tashi doesn’t like y. Tashi kisses softer than you’d expect her to.

She should’ve expected it, really. And yet, she was still surprised when she looked over one night, Art still gooey-eyed and kiss-swollen from an hour or so well spent, and he manages to croak out a ‘Hey Tash, what are we?’ Tash. That stupid little pet name he’d chosen. As if chopping off the last letter of her name makes her his in a way. Reassigning her from Patrick’s possession to his. It made her chest flutter. It made her stomach roil with nausea. She turns to the other side, pulling the blankets tighter around herself. She doesn’t object when he places a hand on her cotton covered hip. It’s thick enough she can’t feel anything but the weight of it.

It’s not like she didn’t like Art. She did. She wouldn’t bother with dealing with him if she didn’t. The attention was nice, of course. Feeling wanted again. Patrick stopped wanting her, or at least she tells herself so to kill the guilt, and tennis most certainly wasn’t going to accept her with open arms anymore. But Art wanted her. Hurt, healed, grieving, unstable, remarkable her. And, yeah, the sex was good. Very. But she liked him, too. Art who still played against her on the days she was convinced she could still play, and picked her up when she inevitably fell. Art who spent more meal credits on her than his own food. Art who was still waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know.”

She’d have a better answer someday. He nods, she knows so without seeing it, his breath always hitches the same way when he does. She doesn’t like the realization that as much as he might know her, she knows him back. Really knows him. He couldn’t keep a thought to himself to save his life. But the thought of doing anything beyond casual fucking and pretending their interactions mean nothing makes her nose crinkle. Nuh uh. Not right now. Maybe someday, but not right now. She’d feel too bad about it.

He presses a kiss to her shoulder where it sticks out, mumbling a goodnight before he drifts off. Her skin prickles. Her brain gets fuzzy. Yuck

happy challengersversary angels!! i'm so endlessly grateful for all the lovely friends i've made here, you truly do mean more to me than you know. i'll try and repost any and all old fics of mine from the previous account, though i do have several reposted here if you choose to scroll down a bit. i'm still a bit shaky on my feet, but i'll be back to writing soon. regardless, this isn't about me. this is about my little babies turning one. and i love them. happy birthday to them.

smooches for them. and smooches to my friends.

Wish I could tell them that everybodys got a thing

challengers x sing

innocence sharpened to a blade — the quiet cruelty of being underestimated — a whisper that rewrites the room

elegance born from exhaustion — the quiet choreography of self-sacrifice — strength mistaken for serenity

fury knotted behind the ribs — longing that forgets how to ask — devotion that tastes like blood

thank you @asheepinfrance @diyasgarden @blastzachilles!