#ask duncan!

[the-gom-jabbar]

AI Search Engines: Why won't you use us? 😭

Me:

[thepowerofswayze]

college art donaldson !!!

maybe something about him , tashi , reader , and patrick all being in a friend group at while in college. maybe patrick comes down to visit tashi and suggest an idea where they drive down to the beach and rent a beach house for a few days or something. while they’re there tashi and patrick start arguing leaving reader and patrick alone.

change whatever if u need to but js anything with college art , please !!

so i took a million years and definitely wrote too much but. finally. FINALLY. thank you sm for this request, i hope you like it :)

☆

beach trip

pairing: art donaldson (challengers, 2024) / afab reader [gender not specified]

word count: 3.9K

warnings & info: 18+, afab reader, NOT beta read lol (but nothing of mine ever is), college era art my love, friends to lovers, art and reader swim in their underwear lol, reader wears a bra, reader likes swimming, first time together, oral sex (reader receiving), p in v sex, safe sex (condom moment), art is a munch

summary: A group beach weekend sounded great- until Tashi and Patrick spent the whole drive bickering and the whole first night moments from pouncing on each other. Looks like you and Art will have to keep each other company.

☆

“Don’t let him scare you, he’s shit at board games. And card games. Just like he’s shit at tennis.”

You just blinked, eyes darting to Patrick to see how he’d react to Tashi’s dig. The nervous laugh to your left let you know Art was just as unsure as you were.

When Patrick had come to visit Tashi and suggested all four of you take a trip to a rental beach house, you knew being in close quarters with the both of them for a full 3 days would be interesting, at the least. You weren’t about to pass up on the beach trip, though- not when Patrick was covering the rent.

What you didn’t know was that they would be argue-flirting the entire way there, and every moment since you’d all arrived. It made sense, though- between Tashi rooming with you, Patrick not having a room since he wasn’t a Stanford student, and his long stretches between visits, they hadn’t had any time alone in a little over 2 months.

Their flirting was always a little angry- little jabs and remarks that would have made you wince if you were the target. For them, it just made the other’s eyes linger on their partner's lips for a little too long.

Patrick licked his lips before he responded. “Do you ever talk about anything else?” He asked, a lazy half smile on his face.

Tashi’s comeback was almost immediate: “Not like you give me anything else to talk about.” She leaned back on her hands, eyes raking over him from top to bottom.

Patrick seemed to enjoy the scrutiny. He leaned forward, that lazy smirk changing into a playful grin. “Yeah? I got something I could give you right now.”

Alright. That was your sign to go.

When you turned to Art, brows raised, he was already looking at you. You glanced from him to the door and back. You knew Patrick and Tashi would be on each other any second now, whether you two left or not, and you really didn’t want to get caught up in it.

Art nodded.

Your “I think I’m gonna call it a night” and Art’s “Uh, me too” fell on deaf ears as you two scrambled out of the room. Art had barely shut the door behind himself before you could hear those two pounce on each other, the board game you’d been playing definitely scattered and forgotten.

It made you snicker, like a middle school boy. One glance at Art and he was laughing too, a hand over his mouth, his red stanford baseball cap the only thing keeping his hair from falling into his eyes as he shook.

More noises from the room- a crash, then the dull thud of something falling to the carpet. You winced through your grin, then made your way down the hall toward the front porch, beckoning Art to follow you.

Outside, you placed your arms on the railing, leaning entirely on the rickety wood. In the cool night air, you couldn’t hear your roommate and her boyfriend getting it on like animals. You didn’t blame them, even if the angry flirting style wasn’t for you. If you had a partner who was always away, you knew you’d jump on them the moment they were in sight.

You glanced over as Art joined you, mimicking your posture. You knew there was a point, early freshman year, when he’d liked Tashi. It was hard to ignore how his smile dropped when he’d watch Patrick and Tashi reunite, thinking no one was watching. And you always recognized how lost he looked when he stared at her while the three of you had lunch- after all, you looked at him the same way.

Recently, though- over the year and a half you’d known the three of them- he was easing up on it. His smiles lingered long after he thought everyone had looked away. He didn’t even notice when Tashi walked into the cafeteria until you waved her down to sit with you guys. And now, next to you, he was grinning at their antics instead of grimacing.

He seemed to be over it. If only you could be so lucky.

“Like… animals,” Art said, glancing over at you. You were caught so off guard, you didn’t even remember to pretend you hadn’t been staring.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” You laughed, grinning. “They definitely needed that. Did you hear them in the back of the car on the way down here?”

Art groaned. “Oh my god, I thought they were gonna go at it right there.” He brought his voice an octave higher, lifting his chin in an imitation of Tashi that could’ve also passed for royalty- what was the difference, really. “‘You eat like shit. No wonder you play the same.’”

Immediately, you dropped your voice, giving him a coy side smirk and raising one eyebrow. “‘I’ll tell you what I’d rather eat.’”

The two of you doubled over, howling in laughter. Then, another crash from inside. Escaping them was going to be harder than you thought.

“You wanna head down to the water?” Art asked.

“Sure,” you said, smiling wide when he gave you a mock bow and let you lead the way.

The roar of the waves was comforting as you got closer, sand covering your bare feet- neither of you remembered to grab shoes- and the salty air filling your nose. The walk was silent, and the few minutes you spent standing at the edge of the ocean was, too. You watched it reach out toward you, then retreat back into the glittering blue-black. At some point, you closed your eyes.

“I’ve never swam in the ocean.”

Your eyes snapped open. Art was still looking out at the water, head tilted like an inquisitive puppy. The wind fought to ruffle the few curls that peaked out from under his hat. “Never?” You asked.

Art shook his head. “We didn’t really go when I was a kid, and I was way too scared, anyway. Then when I went with friends it was more about beach volleyball and drinking than actually swimming.” He looked over at you, then laughed. “I’m guessing from your face right now, you must love swimming in the ocean.”

You closed your mouth, which you hadn’t realized had fallen open, and shook your head. “Do I?” His incredulous head shake made you smile. A beat of silence. “Are you still scared of it?”

He took a moment to answer, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Then he shrugged. “I don’t know. Not too scared to try, I guess.”

“Alright, wanna try?”

Art just tilted his head at you. You gestured toward your clothes, then the ocean, then to him. You could see it in his face when he caught on. “I’m not going in alone.”

You only took a second to think about it before you were tugging your t-shirt off and tossing it on the sand between you two. Your shorts came soon after. You already had one foot in the water when Art called your name, laughing so hard he could barely say it.

You shrieked at the cold as it hit your stomach, then sunk down to your shoulders, getting the shock over with all together. When you turned back toward the sand, you saw a shirtless Art running toward you in his boxers, moonlight tracing his chest and shoulders. He still had that fucking hat on. It made you grin.

He didn’t shriek when he hit the water, but he did take a lengthy inhale. You watched as he held his nose, screwed his eyes shut, and dunked himself up to his head. His hat bobbed just above the surface, and you picked it up and put it on yourself.

When he came back up, he shook his head, wet hair sending droplets flying. Art grinned, wiping water from his eyes and pointing at the hat on your head. “Thief.”

You rolled your eyes. “Next time I’ll just let it float away then, idiot.” It only made him grin harder. You waved your arms back and forth through the water, the cold easier to ignore when you moved. “So?”

“Hm?”

“Still scared?”

Again, he thought about it for a moment. “No, actually. I think I’m okay.”

You hummed, bringing a finger to your chin in mock deep thought. “What if there are sharks? I think you should be scared of sharks, probably.”

“Nah.” Art shook his head. “The sharks should be afraid of me. I’m the scariest thing here.” He lifted his arms out of the water to flex comically, chin lifted in comical pride.

You laughed, splashing him, making him yelp. “Okay, sure, macho man.”

“What, don’t believe me?”

You shrugged, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Before you knew it, Art had his arms around your middle, lifting you and dunking you in the water back first, like a baptism. You had all of two seconds to scream, then shut your eyes and mouth. He let you up immediately, wading away from you and toward the sand as you resurfaced, spluttering.

“Donaldson!” you shouted, though your serious tone was undermined by your beaming face. Somehow, his hat stayed on your head.

He’d gotten a little ways away from you, but you still had the advantage- you swam in the ocean every chance you got.

You surged toward him, biting back a cackle as his eyes widened in fear. You grabbed his shoulders, pushing off him and shoving him under the waves. He stayed under for a second- then two, then three, until you vaguely started to worry- before jumping out in front of you, wrapping his arms around your torso and making you all but scream.

“Holy shit!” You were giggling, wrapping your arms around Art’s neck for stability. “Isn’t it fun in here? You’ve been missing out.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, so you met his eyes. You hadn’t realized how close you were. It seemed like the realization was hitting him, too, as his eyes scanned your face. He glanced from your eyes to your lips and back. Despite the breeze and the water, your skin was suddenly very warm. You could feel every point where his body touched yours.

You knew what was happening- you could sense it. At least, you were pretty sure you knew. It’s the only thing that could come next, right?

… Maybe you were reading it wrong.

You hesitated. Then, suddenly, “God, it’s cold,” and you kicked off of him to dunk yourself in the water one more time, resurfacing a couple steps away and wading onto shore. When you looked back at him, you could almost convince yourself that the same disappointment that filled your chest was written on his face. “Come on!” You called cheerfully, and Art started after you, replacing the look with an amused smile.

You both put your clothes back on, if only to shield yourselves from some of the breeze on the short walk back. You were both silent as you neared the house, as you walked down the halls. Neither of you even remarked on how Tashi and Patrick had finally gone silent. When Art got to his door and stopped, though, you turned to him.

“Goodnight,” you said, willing your voice to sound less defeated than you felt. Your hands fiddled with the hem of your soaked shirt.

Art nodded. That look was back in his eyes, the one that looked just how you felt. “Goodnight.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The shower was much needed and very welcomed. You took your time getting sand off of you as best as you could, working the water into your hair (you’d wash it tomorrow- you weren’t going through that whole workout this late). When you stepped out of the hot water, toweling yourself off, your eyes caught on the red Stanford baseball cap on the sink counter. You bit your lip and walked past it, into the connecting bedroom you were calling yours for the weekend.

Pajamas on, you sat at the edge of your bed, scrunching your hair mostly dry with a spare t-shirt you’d packed just for that. The crash of the ocean enveloped you through the open window.

You thought about it. About his arms around you and his chest against yours. About the way he’d looked at you and you’d known exactly what he was going to do. About his face when you’d second guessed yourself and ran away.

Fuck. Why did you run away?

When you got up and walked to the door, you grabbed the hat from the bathroom counter. You told yourself you were only going to return it, but something in the back of your mind laughed at your excuse.

You had just gotten to the door, lifting a hesitant hand to knock, when it swung open and you were met with a flushed, freshly showered, boxers-and-t-shirt clad Art Donaldson.

The two of you stared for a moment. You didn’t see the disappointment in his eyes anymore, but there was still something there. You were sure it was on your face, too.

You cleared your throat. “Hat,” you said, intelligently.

Art glanced at the hat in your slightly raised hand, then nodded. His eyes came back up to meet yours, then darted down to your lips. He opened his mouth and hesitated. “Do you wanna-”

You pushed forward, pressing your lips to his for just a moment, before pulling back, searching his eyes. He didn’t give you too long to think about what you’d just done, his hands flying to your waist, pulling you back toward him and kissing you again. Hard.

Art yanked you into the room, and you dropped the hat, the door shutting as he pushed you up against it. His hands found their way under your sleep shirt, settling on your bare waist, and one of yours cupped his cheek while the other thread through his hair. You tugged gently at the curls, and he sighed your name into your mouth.

You pulled back just long enough to murmur, “Bed?”

He obliged, grabbing your hand to lead you to the corner bed. His rental room was similar to yours, save for a warm, dull bedside lamp on, barely illuminating the room.

You both crawled onto the bed on your knees, leaning forward to pick up where you’d left. Art’s hands played with the hem of your shirt and you helped him lift it off of you. His shirt went next. He cupped your breasts tentatively, thumbs brushing over your nipples, his face watching yours like he wanted to see if he was doing this right. You pulled him back in for another kiss and bit his lip. He groaned.

“Lay back,” he murmured against your mouth.

You did as told, scooting up the bed and falling into his pillows. They smelled mostly of the air freshener the owner of the beach house had doused it with, but the vague hint of Art’s cologne permeated the room.

He kissed you again, holding himself up over you. He placed kisses down your neck, your shoulders, your collarbone. As one of his hands came to rest between your legs, pressing against you between your pants and underwear, he placed his mouth on one of your nipples. He bit at it gently, sucking immediately to make up for the hurt and moving his hand against you. Your breath stuttered and grew heavy, lips parting, as he moved to your other nipple.

Art pressed a kiss to your stomach next, trailing lower, eyes closed. You watched as he murmured against your skin, “You don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this.”

“Yeah?” ‘Sex with me or eating me out specifically?’ you wanted to ask. Instead, you bit your lip and watched him hook his fingers into the waistband of your pants and underwear, pulling them down together and tossing them on the floor. He pressed alternating kisses to each of your thighs, inching closer and closer. You could barely hear your voice when you asked, “Why didn’t you do anything?”

A shiver ran through you, partially from the vulnerability and cool air, partially from the way Art was looking at you- reverent. Devout. “I couldn’t imagine I’d be lucky enough.”

You wanted to say something back- something clever and sweet to let him know just how easily he could have had you- but his mouth was on you in less than a second, and all that you could do was let out an odd cross between a huff and a whine.

His tongue pressed flat against you- eager, almost desperate, like you were an oasis in the desert. His nose bumped your clit as he bobbed his head, switching between long strokes and focusing on sucking your clit. “Shit,” you whispered, your hand threading through his hair. He fell into a rhythm, the consistent vulgar noises of his mouth against you filling the room alongside your gasps and whines.

When his tongue pushed into you, your eyes screwed shut. “Fuck, Art,” you said, barely gripping his hair and faintly hoping that it wasn’t painful for him. He only whined at his name, a desperate noise, and pushed his face impossibly deeper. “I’ll- I’ll come if you keep-” You cut yourself off with a groan.

Art pulled back just enough to say, “I want you to. Please, let me taste it.” Immediately, his mouth was back on you, like he couldn’t keep himself away for long. You would’ve playfully chided him for being so filthy had you not been busy gripping his hair and letting curses fly.

You let your head fall back, hips rolling on their own accord, and he only adapted and let you ride his face and bring yourself to the edge. You came with a loud cry, thighs pressing in on his head, back lifting just slightly off the bed. Art didn’t back off as your high subsided, continuing until you’d come down and were laying there, panting.

You pushed yourself up to a sitting position, then pulled Art back up onto the bed. His eyes were glossy, much like the majority of his face, covered in you and his own spit. You put your hands on his cheeks, ignoring the sticky feeling and pulling him in for a rough kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

One of your hands wandered, trailing down his chest and coming to rest at the front of his boxers, palming him. He groaned.

“I wanna fuck you,” you said, pulling away to look him in the eye.

Art huffed a laugh. “You can’t say that to me. I’m not gonna last at all.”

That caught you off guard, and you laughed. “What?”

He shrugged coyly, almost smug as if his cheeks weren’t still flushed and glistening from his time spent between your legs. “I’m, like, halfway there already.”

Just from eating you out and a little petting? That was… surprisingly hot.

You told him as much, relishing in how deeply he flushed and how widely he grinned. You made him lie back on the bed. “Condoms?” You asked.

He nodded toward his bedside, to the backpack leaning against the nightstand. You raised an eyebrow at him before leaning off the bed to grab one. All he offered you was a shy smile.

You kissed his chest, making your way down to his waistband, and he watched, propped up on his elbows, like he was sure if he took his eyes off you you’d disappear. When you pulled down his boxers and tossed them aside, you wasted no time ripping the condom wrapper open and rolling it on.

Getting up on your knees, you hovered over him and lined your hips up with his. You gave him a quick glance. “This okay?”

He nodded, eagerly, and you could’ve broken at the sight. You sank onto him, gasping slightly at the sensation. Art watched your face, open mouthed, eyes never leaving yours. You almost wanted to look away, but the intensity was riveting.

With him now fully in you, you gave yourself a moment to adjust, hands settling on his chest as he gripped your thighs. You gave your hips an experimental push forward.

Art let out a groan that sounded somewhat like “Fuck” and “Ugh” put together. You repeated the motion, your mouth opening softly as you watched his eyes flutter open and shut. It was like he was struggling between giving into the feeling and watching you.

You increased your pace, head falling forward as you lifted your hips with each push. Art’s hands moved to grip your ass, eyes focused on you, little pants and whimpers escaping him as you moved. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. You would’ve responded in kind, but he bucked his hips moments after and your head fell back with a moan.

With your hands now supporting you from behind, gripping the sheets, you rolled your hips with each lift. Art let out a particularly pathetic whine, and you grinned through your heavy breathing, gazing at him with heavily lidded eyes. “Close?” He nodded, his expression so desperate that you were sure he was right on the edge. You could feel yourself right behind him. “Cum for me then,” you panted.

Art groaned, one hand moving to press sloppy circles against your clit. You forced yourself to keep your eyes open, wanting to see his face as his orgasm hit him. His eyebrows were furrowed, lips parted as he panted and he whimpered. When his orgasm came, his eyes shut and he cried out, gripping you tightly and continuing to rub your clit, hips bucking into you involuntarily. You were only a second behind, “Fuck, Art!” the only thing you could say before your hips stuttered and your second orgasm washed over you.

Slowly, you came to a stop, panting and barely keeping yourself up. Your head was light, and you couldn’t wipe an exhausted smile off your face. When you finally felt like your arms wouldn’t give out, you lifted yourself off of him, collapsing on the bed between him and the wall, catching your breath.

Art removed the condom, tying it off and throwing it in the trash before turning to face you. His breathing was much more regular, but his chest still heaved. “...Fuck,” he said.

And you laughed, one arm over your eyes, the other clutching your stomach. “Yeah?”

He was grinning at you when your arm moved off your eyes, then leaning in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, your collar bone, your cheek. “Yeah,” he murmured. Silence fell over you both as you watched him intertwine your fingers and stare at them. His lip twitched, like he was working up the courage to say something. “I meant it, you know. I wanted this- you- I’ve liked you for… a while.”

You hummed, now suddenly also very interested in your intertwined fingers. “‘Liked,’ past tense? All done now?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, dumb-ass.” You smacked his arm, glancing up to find him looking at you now. “Like. Still. And probably will for a while.”

You felt your face warm. You kissed him. “I like you, too. Still do. Will for a while, etcetera.”

“Thank fucking god,” he said, and you couldn’t help but snort a laugh. When Art kissed you again, you could feel his smile against your lips, and you were sure he could feel yours.

[poppy-metal]

need 2 be older!arttashi’s young plaything, their lil assistant or nanny. fresh out of college and so eager to please, always calling them mr donaldson and mrs duncan even when they insist on calling them by their first names. they’re so sweet to you too :( so sweet and ur so naive that u don’t even pick up on the signs that they want to fuck u until ur pressed in between them :(

need it so bad like tashi's body is SO TEA just imagining her toned body pressed against your front, licking into your whimpering mouth. her nipples pressing against yours as your hands desperately seek out the perky swell of her ass, her eager little girl. grinning as she nips and bites at your lip, your growing desperation only making her more heated.

nd arts at your back, his hard cock nearly wedged between your asscheeks as he moves your hair from your neck to press open mouthed kisses there, rocking against you - so you can feel every inch of him, broad and big behind you, making you sweat with perspiration. your panties a tangled webbed up mess around your knees, cunt sticky and exposed but their hands haven't gone down there yet. you're just stuck in the middle, crushed between them. panting into tashi's mouth as you try to move back against art, wanting wanting wanting.

"this is so clichě." tashi squeezes your jaw to watch the way your mouth parts for her automatically. perfectly obedient. "fucking the nanny."

"at least we're doing it together." art supplies, right before he palms your ass, pulls one cheek apart so he has better access to rub his boxer clad dick between the lips of your cunt.

"please-" you'd gasp - reaching your limit. clit on fire. "please, please -"

that's true, tashi agrees, but your already gone, because her slender fingers are gliding down your stomach, over your pubic bone, sliding into the sticky mess between between your thighs. art shifts back a little, and when he comes back, you feel the bare press of his cock - tip gliding through your folds until it catches on tashi's fingers. she holds him there, digits curled around his head, and rubs him back and forth over that tiny little opening that wants to flower open for them so, so bad. already clenching and unclenching.

"you want him inside you?"

"yes - yes, please - "

"are you going to keep being our good girl if i let him fuck you? i don't want you to slack off. this -" she rubs his thick head against your entrance more insistently - he groans against the back of your neck, you whine - "is a reward. do you understand?"

you nod. "I'll be good, mrs. donaldson, i promise. I'll do all my work - please - please - I'll be the best nanny ever - I'll cook and clean ill do anything - anything -"

tashi smiles. she guides art in.

[dracoj]

hey guys remember how art is inextricable from every scene of tashi and patrick hooking up we get. in the hotel room almost-threesome, he’s there physically. in Stanford and Atlanta, they can’t stop talking about him. in New Rochelle, he literally looms over them from the GAME CHANGERS ad in every shot. he’s always there even when he’s not there

[beverlycrushr]

STAR TREK VOYAGER 5.17

[total-drama-brainrot]

[honeymuck]

Courtney in her PJs or her swimsuit plssss

Redraw from the first episode 😙 Girlies everywhere have been disgusted by this yucky man since day 1

[missjadesfics]

I love your Dune fics, and I've read all your fiction! Are there any other fic accounts that write for Dune? Can you let me know? Thank you, honey!

Thank you, lovely, that's wonderful! Yes, I have some friends who write some amazing dune fics if you want to check them out xx

@valeskafics One of my personal favourites and go-to writers. She writes for multiple fandoms, but she also writes for Feyd and Paul. 💗

@sansaorgana She too is a multifandom writer but she has also written some beautiful Feyd fics as well. 💗

@austinbutlerslovers My other go-to blog for Austin / Feyd gifs and fics. You will definitely enjoy the multiple-series fics on this amazing account. 💗

@dreamlandcreations She is multifandom but she has some Dune fics there you should definitely read! 💗

Other accounts I've recently discovered that write Feyd, Paul, or Dune in general are ones I love reading. @shockercoco @afewfantasies @foreverdolly @eraenaa

If you want to find more, just follow the tags I have listed, and more will come up as you scroll through your search. Happy smut reading xx

[l3irdl3rain]

A few months ago my cat Lyla passed away from bladder cancer and it really hit me hard. I've since gotten better and even adopted two kittens recently, but I still think about Lyla. There's a part of me that's almost jealous? Because Lyla was maybe 15 or possibly younger, and I hear so many stories of cats reaching 17 or even into their 20's and still having decent quality of life. It doesn't feel fair that Lyla had to go when she did. I know that it's only my grief making me feel that way and that 15 is a venerable age for a cat--and you can't measure the quality of a life in years anyway--but it still sucks. Have you ever had to deal with unexpected emotions when it comes to grieving any of your animals?

I handle pet grief very well but it still sucks. And Duncan was by the far the worst pet grief I have ever dealt with. Because of the fact that he needed SO much from me that I became extra attached, but there was also a certain feeling of how unfair it was. He was only a year and a half when he passed. And the same goes for John, who was just a young guy as well.

With those two especially I had to stop and remind myself that they had no idea they were dying young. I think a certain level of anthropomorphism when it comes to our pets is unavoidable. I even think that a lot of times it’s harmless. But it’s also not realistic. All our pets know is that they were happy and they were loved. There’s no regret for what they did or didn’t do like there is for humans at the end.

[sestrahulk]

My story is an embroidery with many beginnings and no end. But I will start with the thread of my sestra Sarah, who stepped off a train one day and met herself.

Happy 6th anniversary to the series finale of Orphan Black!

[the-gom-jabbar]

[jesterjaxx]

Ok SO

Canonically his dad is a cop and there are a couple jokes about his parents not loving him, dudes dad straight up said "actually, do we love you?" Like sir damn anyways im taking that and running with it SO

Giving him a fucked up situation of him and his dad always butting heads and both of them escalating things constantly, and as he got older the ends to the arguments went from getting grounded or punished to getting kicked out or Duncan just leaving, probably escalating to his dad kicking him out semi regularly and eventually his mom or dad telling him to come back home to make a kinda fucked up cycle

And like i know they gave the convict kid a cop dad for the laugh like its not that deep at ALL

but like that sets up sucha fucked power dynamic and i want to use that

and we never find out what got Duncan sent to juvie for the first time, its said off screen while some characters are spilling embarrassing or dark secrets and in my fucked up world either he accumulated a couple charges while he was kicked out, indirectly the fault of his dad

or worse but more tempting

he got kicked out and his dad arrested him for trespassing

so like idk i just love the idea of a pyromaniac, vandal convict who has no respect for authority or mutual trust having the tragic backstory that his first time getting arrested was at the hands of his father

[poppy-metal]

need to hear ur thoughts on

arts reaction when u whine "daddy" for him while tashi punishes you

Vs

Tashis reaction when u whimper "mommy" for her while art stretches you with his cock

sniffles because arts cock would definitely twitch and his mouth would go dry but he's not coming to your aid 😔 he might throw in a placating "tashi..." but the second she slices her eyes at him, or raises a brow, he backs down. "sorry, baby. you can take it, just for a little longer."

"she'll take it as long as I want her to."

"..."

"oh dont give me that look. Its your fault she's a fucking brar, you know? maybe her punishment should be not getting to sit on your dick for a week."

"mommy, no!!! im sorry - I won't ask daddy for help anymore. I'll be good!"

you dont see arts sigh of relief. tashi does and she has to stop her eyes from rolling. that would be a punishment for art as much as it would be for you, maybe even more so on him. seeing you whine and cry in distress always made him antsy. that need to fix everything, to offer himself to you, to care for you ingrained into his very being. she couldn't handle it when it was all directed at her, having it split in half makes his love much more breathable for tashi. you're much more accepting of it than she is. that doesn't mean you get to turn to him in times like this, though.

"that's what I thought."

the reverse is very different. you usually cry out tashi's name, it's because you're overwhelmed and she anchors you. arts lovemaking gets so intense sometimes - much rougher than his usual tender, slow strokes inside - when he's worked up, angry about something or stressed out or worked too thin, it can get rough. hips crashing into yours enough to jolt you up the bed and its not bad, just the opposite, its so fucking good it takes you out of your own body. you feel like a toy under him, a fleshlight for him to pound into - and when you cry out for tashi its because you need her rare tenderness as much as you need arts rare aggression.

the plea leaves your lips and your eyes are too filled with tears slipping down your cheeks to really see her but you feel her, feel the bed dip and feel her soft slender hand on your cheek. rubbing the salt of the tears off your skin, petting through your hair, damp with sweat. you lean into it, into her.

"pretty girl." her voice can be so soft like this. "is daddy being mean to you today? hm?"

you nod dumbly, even as you gasp when one of arts thrusts has you keening. he's a powerhouse above you, face intense and focused and slack jawed all at the same time, lips parted as he uses your body, dragging you up and down on his cock. makes no comment about you and tashi's conversation, too turned on, too in the moment for speech.

tashi's fingers smooth along down your stomach, into the little notch of space between arts body moving above yours until she reaches your clit.

"do you want me to make him stop?"

art does groan then, and its almost a plea. sounding anguished.

you shake your head. tashi smiles.

[spearxwind]

could we get an infodump abt the new broken horizon lore? how i found you was through extinction, so glad to see them back!!!

Absolutely!

The world of Broken Horizon is a planet (that I've yet to name) which has two major sentient species on it: humans and dragons (or khevirs in their own language). Both species coexisted side by side in relative peace (as much peace as two equally matched apex predators would have).

At some point in their history, Cercerion, a dragon with enough power to become a God, goes haywire and starts creating and becoming storms that span almost the entirety of the planet. These storms are devastating electrical hurricane cells that are charged enough to create their own magnetic fields, the incessant lightning rain is enough to literally rip chunks of earth, even mountains, out of the ground and earth and keep them in the air because of these magnetic fields. This is obviously DEVASTATING to the planet.

Eventually, a joint mutual effort from both humans and dragons is able to take Cer down, striking him down hard enough to bury him deep in the earth to sleep for ages, but the impact is so sudden that he cannot dispel the storms he created and loses control of them, leaving them to eternally roam the planet sowing destruction in their paths. There are six in total. (They are much less dangerous than when he IS in control though and the lightning rain is reduced significantly. But they are still MASSIVE hurricanes)

After this event, humans freak the fuckkkk out and in true human fashion decide that dragons are dangerous and must be exterminated. A massive war breaks out between both species where they try to obliterate each other (this is known as the Great Dragonslaying Era). Both sides develop technology to stay on par with each other (humans develop insane machinery, and dragons develop energy manipulation).

The war rages on for years, but true to their nature they an never truly best each other, and the war ends MANY years later in a shaky stalemate from both sides. This would be the present day.

Since the war has only recently ended, there are very few laws that regulate dragons and their rights in human territories, and viceversa. Using dragons as fighting dogs in gladiator arenas and treating them as animals is 'illegal', but extremely common in human cities. That would be the situation where our Extinction crew find themselves in.

Despite all the animosity towards each other, there are a great many people who want to uphold the peace and want to peacefully coexist and even work together (this is the basis for dragon piloting); but there are also extremists on both sides who still believe the others should be exterminated: humans who consider dragons a threat and a pest and no more than animals, and dragons who are unhappy with being 'tamed' and who clamor for a return to being ruthless deadly beasts.

----

Honestly, the setting of Extinction itself isnt that much changed! It's mostly been tweaked to be a lot more cohesive with the worldbuilding and the world's history. I have added a bunch more in the aspect of dragonflight and races and planes because I think its cool as hell. The gladiator side of it is only one fraction of the world.

[idontthinknowsthebesttime]

having seen Challengers for a third time I can now confidently wholeheartedly say that when Art asks Tashi "hold me until I fall asleep" all she hears is "hold me until I die" until he doesn't have a career. until he’s nothing at all. Patrick told her word for word earlier "he's ready to die"

[vanesawye]

oh!