#older!duncan

[angelplummie]

TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS!

ART X TASHI X PATRICK X F!READER

part 1 part 2

this one is exposition and build up for the smut eventually! enjoy my princesses

tashi duncan stole from you.

in many ways, many times. the first was when she thrashed you in your very first college tennis tournament. you would always remember the sound she made, that war cry. it was like she had decapitated you or something. she stole victory from you that day.

then she did it again, and again, and again. every single time she played you, she beat you. you could annihilate everyone but her, crushed them all to dust. but she was the one person that would not be decimated. you didn’t speak off the court, didn’t look at each other twice in the halls of stanford. but she had this look on her face. this smug, knowing look. here to lose again? it said. and you weren’t some average joe shmoe tennis girl. you were really good. people that had no reason to bolster your ego had told you that, so you knew it to be true. you were fucking brilliant, and she had no right to look at you like you were dirt. you gave her a tough match, but still she looked at you like she knew she was going to win.

when asked about her, all you could say was “i hate that smug bitch.”

what she said about you you didn’t know, and not for lack of trying. you didn’t know if she even spoke of you at all. the thought made you angrier than when she beat you. once, when at the same party, she waved at you.“hi,” she said, and gave you that same i-just-beat-you look. she was taller than you, and craned her neck unnecessarily far to look at you. where did that stupid bitch get off?

she was this towering roadblock, the one thing stopping you from entering the upper echelons of tennis royalty. you had the fucking talent, you had put in the fucking time, you were so fucking good. but you weren’t stanfords sweetheart. you just weren’t. everyone knew you were good, but you weren’t the best.

from the matches you had watched, which was nearly all of them, you were the only person she played that gave her a run for her money. she didn’t sweat the way she did when she played you, the points were never so neck and neck. she should be threatened by you, and yet she looked at you like any other silly college floozy that was the best in her high school. tennis was your life, as much as it was hers. she stole your dignity in that way.

the next time she stole from you was patrick zweig. a sort of boyfriend, an in-between, getting there boyfriend. he could’ve been yours. you could’ve been happy together. but tashi duncan couldn’t have that.

you heard whispers about a night in a hotel room, a threesome, a twosome with a watcher, two guys jacking off on tashi duncan. they could deny, deny, deny, but whatever did or didn’t happen meant patrick zweig never returned your calls anymore. you could still recount the exact tonality and pacing of his answering machine message.

it was fine. it’s whatever. he wasn’t a forever boyfriend anyway.

but once a girl has sex with someone, she expects some degree of loyalty, some sort of goodbye. it wasn’t about him, he was cute, a good-not-great fuck, and never claimed to be serious about you. he didn’t matter. it was the fact she had him. together or not, she had him. he belonged to her. even after they broke up, everyone knew he never liked any of his other many girlfriends like he loved her. they used to walk around hand in hand, kiss, and it made you brim with jealousy. not because you gave any kind of fuck about him as a person, but because she got him instead of you. it was her. all her. she had stolen one more thing.

as time passed, your hatred burned just as bright. you practiced day in day out, hoping that somehow she could see you now, somehow she would know you were her equal.

then you met a boy. art donaldson.

you had known he was involved with her. the hotel threesome stories spared no details of the parties involved, despite factual discrepancies in other areas. but you figured, while she was dating his best friend, you were safe from the curse of tashi duncan. you allowed yourself to fall in love, softly, timidly. having met in american literature, you fostered a little spark. a love, barely the size of a candles flame, flickered in your chest. maybe, you had prayed. maybe him. maybe he was yours. you kissed at new years for the first time, and days later he met your parents. it was new, fresh, but it was love. you loved him.

and then she stole from you for the final time. in one foul swoop, she took everything from you.

it was the final of the college tournament. the two stanford angels playing each other for the victory. the court was red and packed, newly redone. you both wore white. whoever won this was guaranteed a shot at the open in the summer, and that was all you needed. you were so fucking ready. no one was better than you. no one. you had trained so hard, art could attest to it, hell, the entire school could attest to it. ask anyone who saw you around that time, they would’ve seen a scowl on your face and a racket on your back. those who had the pleasure of watching you play would’ve say it: you were fucking good.

that’s why it crushed you. across from her, at match point, advantage duncan, you watched as her knee moved independent from her leg. in between grunting and pelting, there was a crack, and tashi duncan was no more. a hush fell over the crowd as she cried, fell to the ground clutching her knee. you heard that. but you didn’t hear the ear splitting scream that came from your own mouth, couldn’t feel your body sprint, jump the net to crouch by her side. beads of perspiration rolled down her face, scrunched in agony. she bared her teeth like a cornered animal, and looked up at you through her squeezed eyes. her knee looked awful, so you stared at the rest of her. without thought you placed a hand on the top of her head. to comfort her you think.

it was so quiet. the only sound was her crying, her laboured breath stilling your heart to a lifeless thud.

“it’s ok,” you said,”you’re going to be ok, tashi.”

you remembered feeling an inexplicable sadness, a grief that you had never known before. you wanted to get rid of her pain, any and all of it. none of it came from you, you didn’t want her to have it. but that was so quickly forgotten. because as you moved to touch her shoulder with your shaking hand, it was eclipsed by another. a larger hand, the hand of a man. a pale hand. a hand you had touched before, even kissed. the hand of your man.

your eyes met, each with equal fear, horror and sadness. it was then that you knew that the curse of tashi duncan wouldn’t rest until you died. she would steal and steal and steal, even beyond the grave. he looked caught, because he was. he was caught. once you loved tashi you never stopped. he had raced into the court because she had fallen at a game he attended to watch you play, had touched her shoulder with the hand that had held you. he was not yours, as much as you needed him to be. his eyes twinkled with regret, but told you everything you needed to know.

your hand drew away with a flick, like it had given you an electric shock. you rose from tashis tortured body. his hand slipped to where yours had rested. this was all somehow not her fault, while being her fault entirely. you hated her so much it made your heart bleed. you didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. no whisper of her name, no nothing. from this moment on she was dead to you.

you didn’t bother looking over your shoulder to see if art was watching you leave. he wasn’t. the umpire boomed something through a mega phone, something like wait. but you were going home.

in the hall you bumped shoulders with patrick zweig. he was rushing to find her. he looked at you once to apologise hurriedly, twice to utter your name in recognition, and a third time to look at your back and wonder why you were so down. tashi was out. you won by default.

[artashipatrick]

On the surface of it, this movie includes many instances of people being selfish or petty or cruel to each other, or playing games with each other.

But I think it’s important that anytime they’re doing that, they’re also being kind, they’re also trying to take care of each other in their own fucked up way.

There really is a deep care these people have for each other because they all recognize that they’re in this deep relationship with each other, that they can’t get away from each other. — justin kuritzkes on challengers

[rue467]

I need a comically large piano to fall on top of me after seeing this photo

[tashism]

uuugghhhhhh older girlfriend!tashi. not even sugar mommy!tashi, just older and sweet and tired of having to be the one in charge all the time.

she drinks tea every night and reads some thriller book with her little glasses, she gardens, she’s spent the last month trying to perfect her sourdough starter. she really likes dry red wines and hates cheesy romcoms but loves stoner comedies. she really likes hikes. like, wakes you up at 7a.m. on a saturday to go on some trail she drove past earlier that week. she loves eating dinner at the table every night without fail, loves having your little shows to watch together. she loves quiet dates with fancy drinks that cost way too much, french bakeries that you pull her into every time without fail. she has a “croissant rating” page in her notes app — it’s full of your opinions on every cafe. she gets you a pain au chocolat from one of your favorites when she knows you’ve had a hard day. she loves the way your fingers feel on her scalp and tense shoulders, how soft you are, how good you smell. she loves your voice and you love hers. she loves how you take care of her and how you draw warm baths, that you buy her “sticky dates” soaps and say “it’s called splurging for my lady” every time she tells you lush is too expensive.

most of all, she loves being held. she loves how warm you are and how tight you hold her. she loves listening to your faint huffs as you fall asleep, your nose buried in her hair every night. she can’t fall asleep without it, she can’t fall asleep without you — not anymore, not ever again.

[luvbecca222]

my gorgeous mads💗🎀

[swuspect]

how about older!tashi with quirky fem reader?

CENTER OF ATTENTION.

synopsis: tashi duncan is always in control—until you show up, all charm and chaos. she should ignore you, but somehow, she never does.

pairing: older!tashi x quirky!fem reader

wc: 800

a/n: tashi is not injured here!

warning: slight suggestive comments

tashi duncan wasn’t one to get distracted. not on the court, not in life, never when she had a goal in mind. but for the past few weeks, she’d found herself focusing on something completely unrelated to tennis—you.

you, with your ridiculous jokes and ability to trip over nothing at least twice a day. you, with your playful smirks and shameless flirting every time you saw her. you, who somehow managed to get under her skin in a way no one else ever had.

she hated to admit it, but she found it… endearing.

not that she’d tell you that.

“tashiiii,” you sang as you walked into the country club lounge, spotting her sitting at the bar, sipping from a glass of something dark.

she sighed, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips. “do you ever say my name normally?”

you plopped down on the stool next to her, propping your chin on your hand. “hmm… no, i don’t think i do.”

she rolled her eyes, but you caught the way her lips twitched, fighting back a smile.

“so,” you continued, turning to face her fully. “how’s my favorite retired tennis legend doing tonight?”

“retired?” she scoffed, setting her glass down. “i still play.”

you leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to be suggestive. “guess i’ll have to watch you play sometime then… see what those hands can do up close.”

tashi paused, fingers tightening slightly around her glass before she chuckled, shaking her head. “you’re insufferable.”

“yeah, yeah, i know,” you grinned, tilting your head. “but you like it.”

she didn’t confirm or deny it—just took another slow sip of her drink, watching you over the rim of her glass.

the next time you saw her was at a charity match she’d been invited to play in. you had zero idea what was going on, but you sat front row, pretending to understand, mostly just watching tashi move across the court.

“so serious,” you murmured to yourself, watching the way she focused, how sharp and precise her movements were.

then, suddenly, she glanced up—at you.

you, wearing her initials on your cheek in face paint because you thought it was funny. you, giving her a dramatic thumbs-up and winking like a complete idiot.

and for the first time in the entire game, she broke focus.

it was subtle, just the smallest hesitation in her stance before she shook her head with a barely noticeable laugh, lips curving into something dangerously close to a smile.

she was so, so screwed.

later that night, you found yourself sitting next to her again—this time on a balcony at the post-match event, the city lights twinkling below.

“you distracted me today,” she said suddenly, swirling the wine in her glass.

you turned to her with an innocent look. “me? nooo. i’d never do that.”

she shot you a pointed look.

“…okay, maybe i would,” you admitted, grinning. “but only ‘cause you look cute when you try to act all unbothered.”

tashi sighed, tilting her head slightly, eyes scanning your face. “you do this to everyone?”

you blinked. “do what?”

“flirt until they can’t think straight.”

your grin widened, but you leaned in closer this time, lowering your voice just for her. “nah… just you.”

for once, she didn’t have a quick comeback. just a look, one that sent a thrill down your spine.

after a long pause, she exhaled, setting her drink aside. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and yet,” you teased, reaching for her hand, gently running your fingers along her palm, “you still let me get this close.”

she didn’t pull away. didn’t stop you. just watched you with that same unreadable expression, the air between you growing thick with something unspoken.

“careful,” she murmured, voice lower now. “you might be playing a dangerous game.”

you smirked. “good thing i like a challenge.”

[jesterjaxx]

If i said genderfuck Duncan would yall shoot me (also just outfit practice)

[moocha-muses]

There she is!

It's probably not surprising for a sim with a rock star and a former world-famous conductor, but Billie Duke has grown into a bit of a diva. She likes money, and attention, and kissing cute, success-minded sims who know how to clean a room, but not if they have brown hair. Ew. It's like making out with a mirror.

[behindfairytales]

Lindsay Duncan in The Wheel of Time (s2) as Anvaere Damodred

[monsterhunting]

challengers | salt in the wound

[rue467]

He was right when he said sometimes love can be mistaken for a crime🤷‍♀️

[tashism]

this is soooooo so so so so older gf!tashi. cardigan especially. when she’s trying to ask for outfit advice and you’re at your parents’ house or something. waking up to this after getting a call that didn’t even start with a good morning. “baby, i texted you like 8 times, go tell me if i look okay” and you just have to stare at the picture for a good thirty seconds because holy shit that’s your girlfriend…….. yeah

[finelyageddragons]

Once again thinking about the connection between Duncan and the Grim Reaper. Imagine him, cloaked in black as he wonders the world searching for lost souls and claiming them as his own once their old life has ended and taking them for himself to sacrifice them in his war against the ancient evils. This great and valiant man with poison in his blood and the demon's song in his mind, a valiant knight slowing being eaten by the sickness he seeks to kill. A ghost who listens to the song at night and searching for warriors - for sacrifices - to give the blood the evil ones call for. Flee should you see him. Let the smell of his rotting mind ward you away and let not those cold steel gauntlets claim you. May the reaper find you before he does for the death will grant rest but a warden will send your soul to war as it dies.

[luvmoonie]

am i gonna have to be the one to say it … i know the end is challengers coded

[covertblizzard]

Anyway, the issue where the Teen Titans meet the four horsemen of the apocalypse might be the strangest thing I've ever read like, first they crash their bus, and then they run across this little shack with a blacksmith, right?

And this dude is all, I've got some horseshoes to fix but I'll fix your bus later. And he has like the funkiest looking horses ever or something but sure, they agree.

Then plot happens and they end up in this fictional country and when Wally tries to prevent a slaughter from happening, the first horsemen, War, knocks him out. And this is only very subtly references with Robin saying "War is stupid!"

Then after that, they try to get (read: steal) some food for some rebels who are being starved, but Famine, the second horsemen, burns away all the food. Lilith (of course) makes the connection and announcement that what they were seeing/meeting, but Robin doesn't buy it (which incidentally is hilarious because Robin was one of the quickest to believe Lilith when she said she was Juliet's reincarnation).

Anyway, so they meet and fail to stop the third horsemen, plague.

And finally, faced with death, they actually finally succeed! They rescue some refugees and beat death!! (Also giving us the hilarious panel with Robin saying "Get the child, Flasher!" which wasn't funny then but is kind of funny now with our use of the term flasher T.T)

Whether or not they do beat death does end up being kind of debatable because death then kills their friend, but these two specifically do not die.

And finally, when they get back to the blacksmith guy, he fixed their bus, and claims he hasn't done blacksmithing in 30 years and the forge has not been lit since then, BUT Wally does fine a hot ember in the fireplace so... WHAT? (Also, Wally zooming around secretly to check on stuff and/or change stuff happening since forever lmao)

Anyway, I don't really know where I'm going with this, it's just SUCH a strange story but also I recall someone mentioning the Sins of Youth lowkey making the Titans immortal and I'm just thinking about how this story could conceivably be made to tie in to that since they successfully evaded Death at the very least which is fun to think about so do with that what you will!

[theboost]

It is crucial to my interpretation of the events of highlander: the series and whatever movies take place in that continuity that Connor MacLeod was, for all intents and purposes, a 100 year old teen mom when he started training Duncan