kat | libra | she/her requests are open
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ok I have a couple ideas for what to write/work on..
#katsuniverse#challengers#katlovesall#mike faist#art donaldson#patrick zweig#art donaldson fanfic#challengers fic#art x patrick x reader#patrick zweig x you#art donaldson fic#art donaldson x female reader#art donaldson smut#art donaldson x you
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love him, need him bad but his entire outfit looking slightly too big for him is killing me 😭

#katsuniverse#it’s ok bby u pull it off#challengers#mike faist#art donaldson#LMAO#i had to#someone needs to say it#love him tho#dodge mason#west side story#riff lorton#pinball#patrick zweig
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that’s it. no questions just this picture.
AHHH. imma need him to keep this hair for awhile 🤞🤞
#katsuniverse#challengers#mike faist#art donaldson#dodge mason#riff lorton#west side story#need him pregnant poll#need him so bad#need him biblically#need him rn
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nvm i figured it out 😛
does anybody know how I can use pinterest shuffle cutouts to make dividers and profile pics for my blog theme?? ty
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this is so real
whenever i miss mike faist i feel like a wife clutching her shawl standing in the fields staring at the horizon with the wind blowing her hair wondering when her husband will return from war
#rpf will not win today#god gives his strongest soldiers the hardest battles 💔#realest shit ever#art donaldson#mike faist#challengers#wss#west side story#riff lorton#dodge mason#pinball#katsuniverse
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Reposting a comment I made on a post and adding to it
x Reader fics need to handle writing “reader” better sometimes
As a 6ft afab person who’s built like a man and has never been super feminine and has a more unique haircut that’s shorter I hate to read about “readers” petite, small, pale body and her “long flowy straight hair”, etc.
Reader is meant to be ambiguous!! And if it’s important to the plot please mention it at the beginning!!! If it’s not important to the plot why is it being included???
Some people who are reading may be tall, fat, skinny, short, or even somewhere in between. The readers could have a hijab, 4c hair, locks, braids, long hair, short hair, wavy, no hair and even more.
Stop making all readers so sweet and innocent, I want a reader who’s petty and sassy sometimes. I’ve noticed also that so many readers are either too baby to do anything or over powered.
Personally I also hate reading about obviously toxic men and relationships that the reader goes back to because they are “so in love”, like no please let me deck that sucker and leave them in the dust and be happier.
Also, if you label your post with the tag “___ x reader” or titled with “___ x reader” and then make descriptions and then ADD A NAME!!! It’s not an x reader fic and I heavily want to block you.
Edit:
Hey hello! I just wanted to add that I heavily respect and love fic writers! So many have a talent that I will never reach or have and I appreciate your content being put out at all! I made this post as a 5 am ramble and was half delirious lol
People can write as they please and I’ll ignore it if I’m not interested or I’ll make slight internal edits to fit me if I am
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chat I might need a slime tutorial for making bots bc I tried to make one and it was so trash 😭
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— BODY BETTER




summary — your boyfriend patrick is convinced that you have a thing for tennis players. you say the same about him. it doesn’t help that you’re both sleeping with one.
pairing — stanford!art donaldson x reader, stanford!patrick zweig x reader, hints of stanford!tashi duncan x reader, also tashi x art and tashi x patrick, and since this is challengers, also art x patrick. literally every single combination, but mostly art x reader
track four — “body better” by maisie peters
warnings — swearing, mentions of sex/sexual moments, CHEATING, both on and by the reader this is a clusterfuck that could be solved by polyamory, patrick is a student at stanford and find my iphone was out in 2007, also no tashi injury in this.
word count — 1.9k
note — don't ask me what this is i couldn't tell you. biblically accurate challengers where all 4 of them have fucked at one point. i kinda accidentally made patrick a bit too much of an asshole i think but whatever i stand by it. i love u tashi duncan if you have no haters it's cause i killed them all.

If you were honest, Patrick probably wouldn’t be your boyfriend if he didn’t play tennis. And you can say that’s because if he didn’t play tennis he wouldn’t have been friends with Art, who you’d met through Tashi, because sure, that would be factually correct.
But the real reason is because you’d thought Patrick was an asshole until you’d seen him on the court. Then you’d still thought he was an asshole but your desire to stick your tongue down his throat outweighed that.
There was something about the way he looked with a racket in his hand. The way his shirt would cling to his chest, the way his calves would shake as he hit the ground. It was something you hadn’t felt before with any of your boyfriends in high school, something innate, something shallow, something absolutely idiotic. But that didn’t stop you from waiting for him outside the locker room and taking him back to your dorm. He’d thought you were a good time, and then the next morning you’d planted yourself in the front row for his single’s match and he knew that he’d gotten himself into something more than he’d planned.
You and Patrick moved fast. Nights spent in his bed evolved into you practically living in his dorm room. You kept moisturiser and a box of tampons in his bathroom. You knew the names of the guys who lived on his floor and they knew yours. You were happy - overjoyed even, and you spilled every single detail to Tashi, who seemed ecstatic you and Patrick had hit it off so well. You told her everything, how he was in bed, how he’d kiss you when he was drunk, how he’d get cranky when he lost a match. Tashi had laughed.
And then she started showing up in other places. His matches — even when Art didn’t go, His phone, left on your nightstand to charge while he showered. You’d watch it ring out, the vibration coursing through your brain as you stared at her face. He’d come back into the room, kiss you roughly and then grab his phone, giving you an apologetic, “Hang on, babe. I gotta call Art.” As if you were that fucking stupid.
You’d felt guilty about it, but that had gone away immediately when you saw it. Patrick’s phone in Tashi’s building. He’d told you he was going to the gym. Art lived in your dorm building, and Patrick’s was across campus. You’d stared at it for ages, like maybe you’d blink and it would refresh and tell you it was just an error, or maybe a text from Tashi would pop up; Hey I found your boyfriend’s phone.
But nothing came, and nothing happened.
So, you called Art. Your boyfriend’s lovely best friend, your best friend’s lovely boyfriend. Art who always looked at you a second too long, who once said you looked like a summer morning and then laughed like he knew he’d overstepped. Art, who you had thought was loyal to a fault.
The first time was in his car, parked behind the library. Shaky hands and foggy windows. He’d asked you “Are you sure?” You’d told him “Shut up,” and he had. You didn’t even feel guilty about it, it felt so good to just be wanted. For as long as you’d known her people wanted Tashi. It hadn’t even taken her long to get a boyfriend once the two of you started college. You weren’t ugly, you knew that. You got slightly better grades than Tashi, and you were probably more popular in high school. But you weren’t deluded; people didn’t want you the way they wanted her. She was an athlete, she was hot, she was alluring in ways that your highschool self had been kind of terrified by. Art moved in ways that conveyed his emotions clear as day without even trying. He wanted you, and he had for so long that it almost felt like he might have been looking for a reason.
You weren’t doing it to spite her, or even to get back at Patrick. Not exactly at least. It was about momentum, moving forward and trying to pretend things weren’t monumentally different now that you’d had both of them. They were the antithesis of each other, Patrick with his bright, empty ambitions. Art’s slow burning affection for you and the way he kissed you like he was trying to take back words he hadn’t said yet.
And you couldn’t bring it within yourself to feel bad. Not when you knew his girlfriend was fucking your boyfriend. It didn’t feel like an intentional choice you were making, it was just oh so easy to let Art climb into your bed and kiss your collarbone, to let him call you baby and to pry your knees open with one of his own. As if he didn’t belong to someone else.
You’d never tell Art this, but sometimes you’d look over at him and try to picture her the way he’d see her. Glowing skin and soft divots. You’d known her your entire life, knew her better than anyone. Better than either of your parents’ probably would have allowed. You couldn’t help it, least of all back then, when it was just the two of you and no one else mattered. Some girls were meant to be looked at.
Art looked at you like you were one of them. Gazes filled with such a longing look he almost looked devastated. Like you were withholding something from him at any given moment. You weren’t just sleeping with him, he’d knock on your door in the middle of the afternoon and kiss you sweetly with a DvD in hand. Or he’d drop by after training with a warm drink so you didn’t have to leave your dorm when you were studying.
Patrick looked at you like he owned you, and you’d thought it was really hot at first, but now it made you bitter. Like he’d done nearly enough for you to belong to him. He loved looking at you, loved when you wore tennis skirts even though you didn’t play. He told you you had the thighs for them, and you let him believe you’d been happy to hear that.
And Tashi? Tashi hadn’t looked at you in weeks. You didn’t notice it at first, but you saw less and less of her. No more post lecture lunches or study sessions. You stopped coming to her matches if Art or Patrick weren’t also playing the same day.
So when she showed up at your dorm one afternoon without warning, you knew something had happened. “We need to talk.”
You didn’t argue with that, holding your door open wider for her. “I know.” You were resigned. This would be it.
She stood in your room, back straight like she was about to give a speech. Her hair was tied back sloppily, with long dark pieces falling in front of her face. She’d cut it recently. It looked good. “How long?” She asked.
You didn’t even think about lying to her. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “A while. Not for as long as you and Patrick.” If she looked surprised she didn’t show it, just sat down on your bed and stared off into the distance.
“So, you fucked my boyfriend.”
“You fucked mine first.” It came out defensively.
“Does he know?” She asked. “Art? Does he…” you nodded. “Patrick doesn’t. He still thinks you’re interested in Art’s serve.”
You snorted. The two of you sat there for a moment, closer than you’d been in months and further apart than you’d been in years. “You could have told me,” you said eventually. “I would’ve understood.”
Tashi eyed you. “Would you have?”
“I would,” you insisted. “I love you.”
She laughed, not bitter, just exhausted. “Truce?” She held her pinky finger out to you.
You took it without hesitation. “Truce.”
She left and was replaced with Art’s presence, him taking you in his arms in your bed, his legs hanging over the edge, and pressing his face into his neck, whispers of how much he missed you despite the fact that you weren’t his to miss and that he’d seen you only hours earlier. He didn’t only touch you like he wanted to fuck you, sometimes it felt like he was trying to remember what you felt like. Or like you were a palette cleanser.
“You okay?” He murmured into your skin, feeling how tense you were. “You can tell me, sweetheart.”
You shook your head. “It’s easier when we don’t talk about it.” You turned away from him, not able to look at him. A slow burning fire, blinding and warm. He kissed the fleshy part of your jaw in response.
And you felt kind of fucked up, the way the world kept spinning even with everything going on in your head. The way Patrick would lean in to touch you and you’d hesitate before letting him. The way you’d hear Tashi’s laugh from across the quad and feel the sound carve out a hollow in your chest. Art never pushed, never pried. He agreed, it was easier for both of you when you didn’t talk about them. He never asked you to choose, it wouldn’t have been fair to when he didn’t know who he’d pick either.
He knew it was wrong, the way he felt about you. Like he kept renewing a library book and accidentally had it memorised. Like you could belong to him if he got enough pieces of you to keep. You hadn’t done it out of spite, but he had. Sure, when he’d been introduced to you as his girlfriend’s friend, he’d done his best to be respectful. But fuck, he’d be lying if he’d said some nights he didn’t think about you when he had a second alone. It had morphed, from that first, messed up time, it was messier. His body ached for a version of you he felt he’d maybe made up in his head.
Tashi couldn’t be mad, not when the only reason your boyfriend didn’t notice your absence was because she was keeping him occupied. She knew how affection could bleed into longing when you weren’t paying attention. And she couldn’t blame Art, either, for being desperate to be twisted in your sheets. She’d suffered the same fate for long enough.
Patrick didn’t think of himself as a bad guy. He just didn’t like to dwell — not the nights he spent with Tashi, not the way you looked at him when he’d snap at you in the heat of the moment. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what Art looked like when he was invested in someone, and he knew Tashi was giving him too much of herself to let Art get like that. But he let you think he didn’t know so he would get to kiss you on the forehead and go off to her.
You didn’t mind being lied to by Patrick. Because on the nights he did spend with you, he’d whimper into your ear about how you were it for him, and those nights held more weight than anything. When he was lying to you, it was easy to see when he was telling you the truth.
But the truth didn’t matter when you were knocking on a door past midnight, when there were hands on your skin that weren’t your own, or when you’d sit in the stands of a tennis court, watching the three of them play like breathing. Like lying. Like touching you.
It was so nice to be wanted, none of them could argue with you. So nice, that it didn’t even matter who it was by.
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does anybody know how I can use pinterest shuffle cutouts to make dividers and profile pics for my blog theme?? ty
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stanford!bestfriend!art headcannons
(who obliviously likes you)
a/n: first challengers writing yay!! until I find some new ideas or get requests here’s some hcs! also there’s some nsfw at the end but it’s not necessarily smut
would totally get jealous if you have many other friends. he’s just insecure like that.
gives you the silent treatment if you missed one of his games and didn’t have a ‘good excuse’. probably would only last a day though, because he still loves you
he’s just as supportive and tries to make it to all games, recitals or concerts you may have
is completely clueless whenever someone is flirting with him. “they’re just being nice!”
is terrible to study with. unless it’s a subject he desperately needs help with, he’s not the best with focusing whenever your around
he may be a teenage boy but he was still raised to be a gentleman so he opens doors for you and buys sweets whenever you’re on your period
asks you for girl advice all the time but acts weird whenever you try to ask him
y’all made out a couple times while drunk and never talk about it
would definitely nerd out about certain things like a fandom or video game and yap to you all about it
very touchy! one of his love languages is touch and he’s always up to give anyone a hug when they need it. this makes him great for comforting you whenever you need it
can be surprisingly a good listener
hates when patrick flirts with you
saw you makeout with of his teammates at a party and couldn’t understand the sinking feeling in his chest
nsfw
has gotten off multiple times to a picture of you at the beach and feels terrible about it
you accidentally left a piece of underwear once at his dorm when he let you stay over and he keeps it in one of drawers and doesn’t plan on giving it back
has gotten hard more than once cuddling with you or making you practice tennis with him and always has to give himself a cold shower afterwards
#katsuniverse#challengers#mike faist#art donaldson#art donaldson x you#art donaldson x female reader#art donalson x reader#art donaldson fanfic#art donaldson smut#art donaldson x reader#challengers x reader#challengers fic
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new mike faist pic dropped — jesus was seen!!


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the last two mike faist sightings were of him wearing the exact same outfit, most likely on the same day. he really is never leaving his house 💔
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just yapping but I hate mischaracterization for tashi duncan…
it’s genuinely such a pet peeve of mine when people write her to be this big, egotistical, mean bully of a woman. especially when interacting with another woman/ x reader bc we only really saw tashi act that way with the boys(and her racist opponent ig).
there are plenty of scenes in the movie that show tashi’s vulnerability and insecurity and her gentleness/empathy, especially when talking with women or loved ones. tashi duncan is not this evil home-wrecker between a beautiful male homoerotic friendship. it’s an old, tired and overplayed story that ppl love to use to as an excuse to hate on women/female characters.
art and patrick may have loved eachother but they’re relationship wasn’t perfect. art was too insecure and patrick was too ignorant that they would eventually have had a falling out imo.
tashi was by far a perfect person who made good decisions. she could be unkind when she wanted like any character. but she isn’t this antagonist that everyone wants to be the ‘bad guy’. ITS HER MOVIE!!
her complexity it what makes her a perfect main character and so well written!!
#reblogging for the anniversary bc some of y’all need the reminder#oh how i will always defend an overhated woman#challengers fic
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please share or donate if you can!!
Help a Family in Need💔
I am reaching out on behalf of my dear friend, Mohamad S., who is facing one of the most challenging times of his life. Mohamad is 37 years old and left his homeland in 2015 in search of a safer and better future. He’s a kind, hardworking man, and his small family has always been his greatest priority.
Living abroad, Mohamad has recently endured unimaginable loss and financial strain. Amidst the ongoing conflict in his homeland, his mother passed away, leaving behind his sister and her five young children—the last remaining members of his immediate family.
As the situation worsened, Mohamad managed to help his sister and her children escape to safety in Egypt, covering their immediate needs and securing a temporary refuge for them. Since then, he has been fully responsible for providing everything they need to survive during this transition.
In his efforts to support his family and cope with this devastating loss, Mohamad has found himself deeply in debt. To make matters even more difficult, he recently underwent knee surgery, which limits his ability to return to work for the foreseeable future. This has made it even harder for him to manage his financial responsibilities and the pressing need to provide his family with a stable future.
Mohamad is now working to bring his sister and her five children to join him in Belgium, where he hopes they can find stability and opportunity after all they’ve endured. This transition, however, requires significant resources that he is currently unable to meet alone.
For privacy reasons, we are not sharing Mohamad’s full name, as he has chosen to keep his identity discreet. While he initially refused the idea of asking for help, I couldn’t stand by and watch him struggle alone. I insisted on doing this for him because he deserves a chance to overcome these challenges.
Your contribution will help Mohamad repay the debt incurred during this difficult time, cover ongoing living expenses for his family, and assist with the costs involved in bringing them safely to Belgium.
Mohamad has been a good friend of mine for years, and I’ve always admired his resilience and generosity. Any support, no matter the size, will make an incredible difference in helping Mohamad and his family rebuild their lives after these painful experiences.
Thank you for reading his story and considering helping a man who has always done everything he can for his loved ones.
Adam
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