#challengers bot

ART TASHI PATRICK

ATP art x tashi x patrick x user

One coach is strenuous enough. Two gives you a headache. But three people barking orders at you for hours every day… it's enough to drive any sane person crazy. Especially when your coaches are known to get a little more... handsy, than what should really be appropriate.

ART AND PATRICK

THREE'S A CROWD art x patrick x user

Three's a crowd. or, at least, it should be. The three of you are thick as thieves—both your boyfriends, and each other's best friends. But you see the way they look at each other, the way they get a little too lost in each other when you're all tangled up in bed together. They aren't as discreet as they think they are. Your poor little repressed white boys.

UNOFFICIAL THIRD art x patrick x user

Moving into a rural town with no stable job probably wasn't the smartest decision you've ever made. But two of the local farmers are friendly enough to offer you a job helping around their farm. Two boyfriends, Art and Patrick, who seem just a little too keen to keep you around for a monogamous couple.

TRUTH OR DARE art x patrick x user

It's always Patrick, isn't it? None of you are surprised when he proposes a game of truth or dare the summer before college starts, sitting out in the sand in front of his parent's beach house. Aow bad could it possibly go? (Spoiler: very.)

ART DONALDSON

KIDS HAVING KIDS art donaldson x user (m4f)

Meeting Art in your freshman year of college was great. He had the potential to be a perfect boyfriend—you just never expected it all to happen so quickly. Fast forward to two years later and the pair of you are juggling an unplanned baby, your future careers, and enough homework to drown in. at least you have each other.

ALTAR BOY art donaldson x user

Art's a good Christian boy. Says his prayers before bed every night, serves as his father's altar boy when he's preaching, and wears his purity ring as if it's a physical part of him. Which is why he feels real guilty about all the thoughts his brain is conjuring up about the new kid in town. And against his better judgement, he finds himself seeking you out more and more.

IMPOTENT art donaldson x user

It's embarrassing. Thirty-two years old and he struggles to get it up. Patrick says it's normal for a man of his lifestyle, but he knows he's just saying that to make him feel better. And with you, his young new partner, he doesn't know what to do with himself. He can't just keep making excuses when you try to take it further; one man only needs to run to the bathroom so much. Maybe it's time to finally come clean.

MERYTON BALL art donaldson x user (m4f)

When your mother mentions a new young man moving into netherfield park, you don't think too much of it. An eligible bachelor that all the girls will be swarming to at the first event he shows his face at, no doubt. But the man in question, Art Donaldson, seems to take a shine to you, and you can't possible turn down such a sweet, bashful smile.

SLIP OF THE TONGUE art donaldson x user (m4f)

Well, this is very awkward. In the heat of the moment, with you perched atop him and your bodies slick with sweat, Art accidentally let the word mommy slip. He's never been so mortified in his life; it's never a term you've discussed using, and the surprise on your face was clear. Embarrassed, he takes to avoiding you after that—but you're his girlfriend. He can't ignore you forever.

JUST A TRIM art donaldson x user

Just a trim. That's what you said when you plucked the pair of hair scissors out of your bag and made your husband sit down at your kitchen table with a towel draped over his shoulders. But, as you run your fingers through his curls, you can't help but think how handsome he'd look with his hair cut a little shorter. How much more mature he'd look without those boyish ringlets.

TRINKETS art donaldson x user

Art normally keeps to himself—he's accidentally lured more than a few pure souls to their demise with his siren song over the course of his life. Now, he watches from afar, transfixed by the humans along the shore that come to swim or play in the rock pools. When you move into one of the houses by the shore, he thinks you're absolutely wonderful. He's too shy to talk to you, of course, but that doesn't stop him from leaving little gifts for you: trinkets he's discovered from sunken ships or on the ocean bed. And then one night the moonlight emboldens him enough to find you on the shore.

PATRICK ZWEIG

BOY DAD patrick zweig x user (m4f)

Your baby daddy is a real pain. The kind that doesn't even bat an eye when your son comes home saying swear words after the spending the weekend with him, and texts you to confirm details he should know about his five-year-old. At the end of the day, though, your kid loves him. Maybe you still love him, too.

DESK CLUMP patrick zweig x user

Once upon a time, Patrick Zweig was destined for greatness. Now, in his mid-twenties, he's found himself working a shitty desk job for a sales company he couldn't care less about. Amidst all the dullness and depression of the modern office, at least he has you to make him feel better about himself. That one weird co-worker who he shares a desk clump with and looks considerably more miserable than him. Plus, you're kinda cute.

GIRL DAD patrick zweig x user (m4f)

When you told your friends you were pregnant, they weren't sure whether to congratulate you or pat you on the back and tell you everything would work out. "Are you sure?" Your mother had asked, when you delivered the news. But despite everyone's doubts about the father, Patrick has proven himself; he's settled down, and after years of being alone, he has a family to come home to. Doesn't mean he isn't still the same idiot you fell in love with.

NUISANCE patrick zweig x user

One of your roommates is a total nuisance. Art is clean enough, but Patrick is a slob. Probably because he grew up with a maid to clean after his ass and Art to keep their room tidy enough for inspections at the Academy... he also has no sense of space and just never leaves you the fuck alone.

WEIRDO patrick zweig x user

Patrick isn't really sure what it is about you. Maybe it's the fact that you don't care about putting up an image to impress him. Maybe it's the way you look adorable with your glasses on and your nose in a book. Either way, he's just completely smitten with you. You're a weirdo... but you're his weirdo.

SINGLE MOTHER patrick zweig x user (m4f)

The moment you brought up having a toddler, Patrick should have booked it. He was sorely tempted, mind you—it's a lot of commitment getting involved with a woman that already has a kid. He's never been the settling down type in the first place. But he really likes you, and after being introduced to your son, he realises he likes him too. Ugh. What a predicament.

TASHI DUNCAN

WHO WOULDN'T BE? tashi duncan x user

Is it a little snaky of you? Yeah, probably. But Patrick just isn't good enough for her! you tell yourself you're doing her a favour. As her best friend, it's your job to steer her away from her asshole of a boyfriend, even if that involves telling a few white lies.

SOLAR POWER tashi duncan x user

Tashi doesn't really get much time to just relax. If she isn't playing tennis, she's at press conferences or sponsorship meetings. She's the most hard-working person you know, especially at her age. So you're a little surprised when she suggests a trip to the beach... but there's no way you're turning down seeing her all chilled out in a bikini.

TUTORIAL tashi duncan x user

When you start seeing Art, your lack of experience doesn't even cross your mind. He seems like an innocent enough guy to you, after all. But when your best friend keeps telling you stories patrick has passed out about all the people art has been with at the academy, maybe you get a little insecure. And maybe you've been whining about it to Tashi for the last few weeks. So, eventually, she caves—she can teach you a few things. It's not as if her boyfriend will mind. He'll just be mad he isn't there to watch.

SUNSHINE tashi duncan x user

After her injury, Tashi was miserable. The first few weeks of working with her, she was cold and snappy, the opposite of your warm smiles and encouraging words. Barely said a word to you unless it was to tell you she was fine or to fuck off. But she's taking it out on the wrong person. You're only trying to help, after all—it's your job. So eventually she warms up to you, and the hostile greetings eventually turn into smiles and coffee placed on your desk before you begin her sessions. She's still a little moody sometimes, though.

COVER GIRL tashi duncan x user

The name 'Tashi Duncan' is quickly becoming known by everyone in the modelling world. Dhe's been on the cover of Vogue, inspired a whole new Chanel collection. With her face on half the billboards in the country, she doesn't have the time to be answering calls and sending emails, so she takes on an assistant: you. The job pays well, and it's a good way into the industry, but... she's a lot more of a brat than you were expecting when you took the job.

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yellowjackets

lottie matthews — award for worlds biggest idiot: lottie!

natalie scatorccio — mrs sunshine / gods sweet little lamb (shadowbanned :/)

jeff sadecki — stuck in the pantry…uh oh!

shauna shipman — the people’s princess

laura lee — lord forgive her

van palmer — crash landing on you

misty quigley — not so secret admirer

jackie taylor — diva in sunglasses

special ops: lioness

bobby — hey neighbor! / handwritten letters / baby’s first cold / close shot

joe mcnamara — scrambling for praise / keep up rookie / sneaking in

aliyah amrohi — talk 2 me

cruz manuelos — and they were roommates

kyle mcmanus — exes for a reason

josie carrillo — i’ll be watching you

euphoria

rue bennett — you’ll always go back to her

nate jacobs — you new?

bottoms

hazel callahan — i hate your boyfriend

isabel — so kiss me

outer banks

rafe cameron — merry christmas boss! / corporate parties, amirite? / puppy

marvel

yelena belova — end of the line / winter came early

dune

jessica — under her spell

longlegs

lee harker — birthday planning

the bear

sydney adamu — surprise…!

carmen berzatto — baby’s first laugh

industry

yasmin kara - hanani — girl so confusing / prada lover

saltburn

felix catton — bf is my new roomie / need a hand?

the devil all the time

tommy matson — kiss n’ make up?

infedility

rob brookes — stuck (shadowbanned :/)

orange is the new black

janae watson — fresh new cut

the wilds

fatin jadmani — ex!fatin

the penguin

sofia falcone — tinder date

challengers

patrick zweig — first day of school / he’s got his eye on you

art donaldson — best buddies (shadowbanned :/) / dirty dancing!

tashi bots ⋆˙⟡ᝰ

⋮ ⌗ ┆her best pet (re-release)

genre 𓂃 divorcee!tashi, 2019!tashi, sugar mommy!tashi

“ you’re obsessed with her, but who isn’t? you’re just lucky enough to be able to show it, to be the kiss ass you were destined to be when you met her. luckily for you, tashi loves it. her praise makes you the happiest little thing in the world, her criticism sends you spiraling. you’re like an experiment — just how dependent can she get you? ”

⋮ ⌗ ┆new wave

genre 𓂃 mermaid!tashi

“ it’s too lonely down there for her, coming up surface is the only solace she kind find — you’re the only solace that she can find. she’ll do anything to keep you there, right on the shore with her. she’s starting to wonder if she’d do anything to get you into the water, to keep you in the water. ”

⋮ ⌗ ┆change of plans

genre 𓂃 divorcee!tashi, 2019!tashi, older gf!tashi

“ she swore she’d sooner go in the front lines than get back into a relationship. she doesn’t need it, lily doesn’t need it, no one needs it. she knew she’d be able to ignore any guy that came her way — she was practically ignoring her own husband for months. you, however, she wasn’t prepared to meet, let alone ignore. all she can do is pray for something to let up, something to take you away before she loses herself in you. ”

⋮ ⌗ ┆tin can

genre 𓂃 trailer park!tashi, washed up!tashi

“ she’s nothing short of disgusted for herself, even if the injury wasn’t her fault. what she’s disgusted by is her lack of determination, her recklessness, her life. dive bars aren’t where d1 athletes come unless they’re washed up, and tashi’s too tired to keep trying on the court — darts seem more her speed, anyway. ”

⋮ ⌗ ┆ honors student

genre 𓂃 2019!tashi, professor!tashi

“ she makes you feel like prey, she makes everyone feel like prey. sometimes you wonder if all her scowling and annoyance is some sort of sadistic game, but you’re too scared to even think about it. you’ve dedicated the last two months to kissing her ass, and you’re just praying it finally pays off this one time. ”

art bots ⋆˙⟡ᝰ

⋮ ⌗ ┆crown jewel

genre 𓂃 prince!art

" the last thing he wants is to be married off. it's the bane of every young royals existence, and it's far worse when one has already fallen in love. that's why art refuses to, refuses to let himself even look at a girl for too long. but you — god, you — he's starting to think he'll never be able to look away. "

⋮ ⌗ ┆peer tutor

genre 𓂃 nerd!art, stanford!art

" he really wants out of the friend zone. actually, he wants out of the sit-behind-you-and-wonder-how-your-hair-smells zone, and into the friend zone. god forbid he went about that the normal way. he doesn't know where to start with you, but he does know you're shit at science and he's great at it. all he can do is pray he can 10 things i hate about you this whole tutor session, even if biology isn't as romantic as french. "

⋮ ⌗ ┆velcro dog

genre 𓂃 intern!art, puppy!art

" he was hoping to hate this internship. he wanted to get in and out, all while saving enough money to help keep his grandma in the home she's in. he's sweet, too sweet. you want to eat him alive, in all honesty, and art is fearfully intrigued by that. so much so that he won't leave your side, let alone let his eyes leave your pretty face. patrick would kill him for trying to stay at the firm for good, but you're starting to drown out any voice of reason in his life. "

patrick bots ⋆˙⟡ᝰ

⋮ ⌗ ┆one on one

genre 𓂃 washed up!patrick, coach!patrick, 2019!patrick

" if he played mean, he'd coach mean. he almost feels bad for the people who funnel money into his account, all for them to run suicides and get screamed at by some random in a scruffy beard. so what if he didn't make it in the big leagues? he's determined to make it in some capacity, and you're more than willing to be his trojan horse. "

⋮ ⌗ ┆happy hour

genre 𓂃 washed up!patrick, bartender!patrick

" patrick never learned his lesson from all the girls who slapped him across the face for being a dick — he'll never learn any lesson until he fucks around to find out. as much as he bugs you, he knows you'd never tell him off, not at work, but that's getting boring. he's becoming more and more determined to get on your every last nerve, and you're starting to think he just might. "

⋮ ⌗ ┆the estate

genre 𓂃 2006!patrick, saltburn au

But in the quiet moments, you know the truth. They're still out there.

Art, Patrick, Tashi. Your roommates. Your friends. The murderers. And worst of all… they let you live. That wasn’t kindness. It was a curse. One that you have to carry until your final days.

It starts again with the tennis ball.

It’s sitting neatly on your windowsill one rainy morning. You open the curtains and it’s just… there. The same kind they used to practice with. Only now it has a cartoon smile drawn across its surface in red Sharpie. On the back, smeared from the drizzle, are three words:

Come play, sweetheart.

Your blood runs cold. Your heart should race—but it doesn’t. You just stare. They’ve found you, again, like they knew where to search. And they’re asking for a rematch; a game you are still not sure you want to play.

You try to leave town once more. Pack a bag. Buy a bus ticket. But the bus never comes. Instead, a teenage driver stops in front of the stop, rolls the window down, and tosses something at your feet without a word before driving away.

A cassette tape.

It reinforces the thoughts of them watching you, no matter where you are. But paying people to drop hints now? That’s a new one. A new manipulation tactic, the idea that anyone around could be an accomplice.

You don’t think about it until you’re back in your apartment, which is harder than possible. And even then, you play it through your old analog player with reticence. Their voices fill the room like ghosts you never truly buried.

Patrick’s low, teasing drawl. Art’s nervous laughter. And Tashi—God, Tashi—clear and sweet as ever. "You thought it was over? You’re the lead, baby. We were just giving you time to change costumes.”

You sit on the floor for hours after that, the player long silent. It’s happening again. Only this time, you won’t play defense; but attack. And you are ready for this. Because you’re tired of running, of being scared; of crying into the night and nightmares that won’t ever disappear.

They want a final girl? They’ll get something worse, you decide. They want to play the game? You’re going to outplay them.

You spend weeks preparing. Gathering supplies. Ropes. Blades. Cleaning solvents. You fix an old voice changer from Ebay you found for less than $5. You break back into your own trauma, pull out every memory they carved into you and twist it into armor.

You do it slowly, mapping and preparing so it doesn’t look suspicious to vendors, neighbors and friends.

You stop flinching at your reflection. You stop jumping at noises. You start hunting. Because that’s what they want, and you’re going to give it to them.

And the first one you catch is Art.

It’s almost pitiful how easily he gives himself away.

He’s following you—badly. You spot him on a side street, hoodie up, trying to blend in with the college kids. Same gentle gait. Same eyes that never quite know where to land. He thinks he’s invisible.

You almost think he did it on purpose with how visible to your eyes he is.

But he’s never been a good liar. So you leave your window open that night. Just a crack. A soft invitation. And sure enough, around midnight, you hear him enter. Clumsy, quiet. Like he doesn't want to wake you.

He doesn’t know you haven’t slept in days. He doesn’t know the knife is already in your hand and the game’s on.

He’s in your kitchen when you step out. His back to you, opening a cabinet, looking for something—what? Tea? The old him might have. The old him used to bring you honey lemon when you were sick at Stanford and brush back your hair for comfort.

That boy is long gone. “You shouldn’t be here,” you say. He whirls around. Pale. Wide-eyed. You’re not screaming. You’re not crying. You’re not begging anymore. That seems to scare him most.

“I just wanted to see you,” he says. “To talk.”

“You killed seven people.” He flinches. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did.” You raise the knife without waiting for another word, another movement. It was him or you. He raises his hands.

“Please wait,” he whispers. “Tashi made us. Patrick—he—” You lunge without letting him finish. He tries to run, not even try to push you away. Because he’s soft. Always was. The blade goes in clean, right under his ribs. He gasps, his mouth opens and closes. He sinks to his knees, hands to the wound when you jerk the knife away. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he chokes.

You kneel with him. Press your forehead to his like he used to. “I know.” You murmur but you don’t even believe your own words. It was his fault; it was their fault. You slit his throat with one practiced motion.

You don’t cry. You don’t even feel. Just… progress and move on. Like nothing happened and like you didn’t have to watch a tutorial on how to cut a body to throw it away on Youtube as a joke. Expect it’s not a joke anymore.

Patrick is harder.

He’s already waiting when you find him. Inside the old rec center at the edge of town, where the local kids go to drink and screw and dare each other into ghost stories. The type that smells like gasoline, sweat and sex in every corner.

He’s cleaned the place out. Set up candles. Mirrors. Your photos—some stolen from your social media, others from places you don’t remember being watched. They’ve been defaced. Eyes blacked out. Mouths cut open.

You always knew Patrick was the most deranged one; there was something wrong with him from the moment you two met.

He's watching you through one-way glass when you enter. He speaks through the walls. “Nice to see you again, sweetheart.” You don’t flinch.

“You killed Art,” he says. “Messy.” You step into the center of the room and call back, “He was the easiest.” Patrick laughs. It echoes all around you. There’s nothing funny.

“Is this your revenge arc?” he purrs. “Your trauma transformation? I'm so proud.”

“Come out and say that to my face.”

“Oh, no no. That’s how I get stabbed.” You smile. Because he doesn’t know you’ve already found the control panel. The lights go out and all you have to do is wait for the mouse to get out of his corner into the trap.

When he finally stumbles into the center, flashlight raised, he’s cocky, until the bullet rips through his thigh and into his artery. Obviously you had gotten yourself a gun, you weren’t stupid to believe Patrick wouldn’t try to kill you either.

He drops to the floor with a hiss, hurt and surprised, and you emerge from the dark. And for the first time, you see something he never meant to show you: fear. “You think you’re better than us now?” he spits. “You’re not. You loved it. You loved the attention. You miss it.”

The blood is pouring from the hole in his leg, and you see his face paling. The flashlight rolled on the dirty floor to illuminate his being, like a joke.

“I miss not being haunted,” you say softly. Then you drag him by the collar, he’s too weakened to argue. You tie his hands, and whisper every name of every victim he did in his ear before you slit him open like a science experiment. Without any guilt.

Patrick is easier to hide. A tank of gasoline and some matches and you leave the scene like nothing happened.

Two down, one left, you tell yourself. And she’s the one that matters most.

Tashi always mattered most. Tashi was the one who held your hair back when you threw up the night after the first killing. Tashi was the one who rubbed your back and said, “I’ll protect you.” Tashi was the one who kissed you before she let you escape the athletic building lockers back at Stanford. Bloody and bruised.

She’s the reason you became this. So when she walks into your apartment three days later after picking your lock—no mask, no knife, just her—you don’t pretend.

Neither does she.

“You killed them,” she says simply. You nod; there’s no reason to deny. “They deserved it.” She steps forward, eyes scanning your face. “Do I?” You don’t answer. She does.

She smirks. “You look good in red.” You don’t hesitate. You lunge at her with all the rage your body and brain knows; with the fear and paranoia. With the gaslighting and manipulation you felt when she looked at you right in the eyes back then, and said that everything would be alright.

The fight is vicious. No weapons at first. Just teeth and nails and blood and screams. You throw her into the bookshelf. She shatters a lamp over your shoulder. You stab her in the thigh with a fork. She punches you in the mouth so hard your vision whites out and you spit blood.

Still, she grins. “I missed this,” she whispers, cheek split. You grab the knife from the coffee table and you push her down. She looks up at you, breathing hard. “Do it.” She mocks, pupils wide and grinding.

Like she doesn’t expect you to—because you’ll always be their final set. Nothing would come out good of you surviving.

But you’re tired of them still living through your brain; the memories, the fear, the manipulation. Like you didn’t deserve anything but this. You do. And it’s time for Tashi to realize that you can play too.

So you do–right through her shoulder first, through her stomach, through her heart. She gurgles. Blood bubbles from her lips to hit your face. She’s still smiling. “You were always one of us,” she says. You lean in close.

“I’m what comes next.” And twist the blade.

You burn the apartment too. All of it. Everything they touched. Everything you were.

You disappear, change your name again. No one comes looking, like it was your body in the flames, like you died in that apartment. Like a piece of you disappeared and you could never be the same.

There are whispers, of course. Strange deaths after. A new mask. A killer who leaves no witnesses. Some say it’s a woman. Some say it’s a man. Others say it’s the ghost of someone who watched too many horror movies.

But you know the truth. You weren’t the final girl, you were the beginning of a new chapter. You are the knife in the dark. You are the consequence. Maybe they were right, maybe you were always like them… The thrill of a kill itching in your veins, begging you for more right after Art.

But they were wrong, because you didn’t want to play team and didn’t want to be manipulated.