#smoke tertiary

[fantastic-fr-scries]

Fae Male

Brick / Watermelon / Wine , Tiger / Stripes / Smoke

Arcane Something

[scryingworkshop]

[frtools]

New Flash Sale: Tertiary Aether Gene: Smoke

A new flash sale has been discovered for Tertiary Aether Gene: Smoke

A scroll that will change the tertiary gene of one Aether dragon to Smoke. This item can only be used once and will disappear after it has been applied.

Game database: click here Marketplace link: click here

Treasure: 95000 76000

[bonusdragons]

October 11, 2023:

Cottoncandy Tertiary, Snapper, Smoke.

Thyra of scrango's clan!

[ninoxwof]

Scarlet the Skywing (revisited)

[Image Description: A digital drawing of Scarlet from Wings of Fire. She is a bright scarlet feathery chicken like skywing with a large crimson red comb and wattles. She has a light orange underbelly, legs, beak and covert feathers. Her underbelly then transitions into a deep jade green at her chest area, and she also has that same green on her primary, secondary tertiary feathers, as well as her feathery rooster tail. Her claws, eyelids, and sharp two tipped horns are a deep dark blue. She is laying down lavishly with a mean smirk on her face, an arm up like she wants to gain it all, and smoke blowing out of her nostril. In a second drawing she has her adorned rubies over her brow, two horns rings in the shape of crowns, a chest piece with rubies, and an assortment of rings on her fingers. /.End ID]

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Polyphony

Chapter Twenty-Six

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Lee, Kevin, Charlie, Benny, Jesse, Sam/Madison, Annie/Bobbie, Crowley, Patience, Donna, Jody, Cesar, Nancy and going forward I'm just gonna list the bands as a whole unit and then the tertiary characters there's so many people all of the sudden!

Word Count: 3443

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, jealousy, Dean/Bela blow job, he's trying his best okay?, after party shenanigans, mild drug use

A/N: I am so sorry this update has taken me so long. It's been a weird couple of months. And with that I quickly duck away from all the tomatoes you will want to virtually throw at me over this chapter. xoxo Stu

Series Masterlist

Dean stepped off the side of the stage into the pit like a madman. He’d just played an entire show and finished with three encores. He didn’t want to be caught, it wasn’t an attempt at crowd surfing. It was submitting to the tide, merging with his audience.

They loved it, he was immediately met with open arms and cheers and more than one pinch on the ass.

The fog of smoke from the stage mixed with the stink of alcohol, decent weed and drying sweat then hovered over the entire crowd as Dean laughed and joked and hugged his way toward the barricade. Lee was still shouting his thank yous and Kevin was continuing to jam on the keys as the lights came back up.

Charlie cut all audio and the sudden lack of background noise was deafening. Everyone’s focus zeroed in on Dean among the chaos.

“Alright, c’mon brother,” Benny’s voice wrangled Dean out of the throes of fans more than anything. “Time to go home, folks! Let the man through!”

Dean waved and threw kisses backwards to the fans. Damn, his cheeks ached with the length of his grin, but he just couldn’t stop it. And apparently it was contagious, from Benny to Jesse, and all the way back to the dressing room, everyone who met his eye beamed back at him, followed by a cacophony of praise and congratulations that came by too fast to appreciate.

“There he is!” Lee shouted over all the laughing and cheering. The band and SPS had apparently started the after party the moment the show ended. Lee grabbed Dean around the neck, kissed his temple, and bowed him over for a noogie in the blink of an eye. Dean could have punched him in the dick, but took the high road and elbowed him in the gut instead. “Sonuvabitch—- let’s get you a drink.”

Lee dragged Dean towards the wall of booze they requested by the neck.

Someone smacked Dean’s hip as he waddled past, probably Donna, but it was too rowdy to be sure.

“Uh-oh!” Lee teased and then finally let Dean go. 

He popped up just in time for Bela to swoop in and kiss his speaking mouth. “Heh!” And okay, he closed his eyes a little late, but he was not expecting that. Lee whistled in his ear, but Dean had finally caught up with her and didn’t want to be ungrateful, so he deepened the kiss, got a hold of her hips and made it dirty, for the audience.

“Okay! Okay! Christ,” you swore. “Shots? I’m ready. Who else?”

Dean pulled back from Bela’s lips, suddenly self-conscious. She smirked, but Dean couldn’t quite match her mischief.

“Trouble’s startin’!” Pam hollered and Kevin practically shrieked as he rushed over to join you.

“You want in?” Dean asked Bela out of the side of his mouth.

“Definitely,” she agreed. They shuffled over and lined up for Cesar to drop another two disposable shot glasses onto the row before overfilling them all straight down the line.

“Salud!” He bid them imbibe.

“SALUD!” They shouted back in a choppy chorus.

The tequila without lime rolled down his throat more than stung, but Dean liked the way it felt on his tongue, an entirely different mouthfeel than his usual whiskey.

“Gah!”

Cesar eyed Dean knowingly, dark eyes bright and proud. “More?”

Dean nodded and looked around, seeing Patience sitting on the minifridge. “Hey Psychic chic, lay one on me?!”

She rolled her eyes but hopped down and got Dean a beer chaser as Cesar poured another row. “You’re a goddamn saint, thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Nice job out there,” Patience almost looked impressed.

Dean cranked the cap off his bottle and held it up. “Just gettin’ started.”

“That we are,” she agreed and then leaned over and reached behind Dean, waving and then holding out her hand. “Hey! Sorry, we haven’t met. I’m Patience— I’m the bass player for the opener.”

“Bela! I’m with him,” Bela replied, diligently shaking Patience’s hand. Dean couldn’t see it, but he felt it as Bela braced against his back to reach.

“You poor thing!” Patience teased.

“I’m right here you know!” Dean griped playfully and took his and Bela’s shot in the meantime, winking at Cesar.

“Eh, it’s not all bad,” Bela heavily implied something.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” Patience said in a way like she’d be following up.

Dean groaned and took a long pull off his beer before finally turning around and joining the conversation about him. Bela practically draped herself against him, her spangly bracelets rattled down her forearm as she got comfortable.

“What is that bad?” Dean stage whispered to Bela.

“I’ll tell you later, dear,” Bela said diplomatically, patting his chest.

Patience chuckled. “How long?”

Dean looked at Bela before he could fuck that one up. “Couple of months.”

“Six.”

“Six?!” Dean balked.

“Yes, six months since we met for brunch at that place with the frittatas.”

“It’s March— that was November,” Dean countered.

“It’s still new, though,” Patience suggested, clearly amused.

“Basically,” Dean agreed.

“Not too new,” Bela tacked on.

Dean sipped his beer and looked around the room as Bela asked Patience about her band, things Dean heard but already knew. Lee and Kevin were geeking about something or another as they talked to Donna whose smirk told Dean that she was baiting them for something. Sam was spread back on the couch with Madison draped against his side while Annie sat across from them sealing a joint. Bobby and Victor were talking shop with the Sera chick from the venue just outside the door, making peace or demands, Dean couldn’t be sure.

He wondered if Charlie was still making notes for the show tomorrow or if she was here somewhere he hadn’t clocked.

“Alright folks, time to go make nice with the civilians. SPS let’s get you ladies first— Sam, grab your brother.” Bobby bellowed through the dressing room before heading out to the meet and greet area. Lots of bands did this stuff before the show, but Dean always preferred it after. Plus enough booze tended to put everyone, fan or band member, at ease.

Dean gave Patience a knowing look, rolled his eyes, and then pulled his arm off of Bela’s shoulders. “Duty calls.”

Seeing fans face-to-face was a mixed bag. Dean was never immune to the ego boost, it meant a lot that someone enjoyed something he helped make and that they were able to give them a good show in return. But there were the absolute nutbags too. And then everyone else in the middle who were either way too excited and forgot he was essentially a stranger or that he was a person at all, or trying so hard to be cool and aloof that he left feeling bad for them.

Generally it was fun, if exhausting. But after he had crashed and burned, he had this nagging urge to hang back and let the rest of the band do the heavy lifting for once. The guilt of entertaining that thought weighed on him as he followed Sam, Pam and Bobby while being flanked by Kevin and Lee. Dean Winchester didn’t pass the buck, he picked up the slack and so he walked into the repurposed rehearsal room with a big grin and his arms wide above his head.

“How’s it going everybody?!”

Screams and cheers hit them in a solid wave of sound. Carefully, you escorted them to the signing tables while everyone was still corralled behind the snap-bracelet dividers while Bobby watched the exit and the crowd. The venue’s security managed the line, ensuring everyone generally kept their clothes on and hands to themselves for this part.

SPS took up the first two tables, forcing PT’s diehards to play nice and give the openers some love. Though Dean was pleasantly surprised to see some folks decked out in their gear too, especially as a transplant band it made him proud of his friends. He cracked open the water bottle that was set in front of his assigned seat and chugged half of it. Suddenly hoping he didn’t smell too rank, from breath or sweat, he hadn’t stopped long enough to remember to grab some gum or more deodorant. He did a sniff check and felt a warm palm on his shoulder.

“Sure or unsure?” You teased, leaning in to hear him over the hustle and bustle of approaching fans.

“Passable. Got any gum?”

You rolled your eyes and stood back up to spin your compact cross-body bag around to dig through for him.

“Thanks,” Dean said while popping the piece into his mouth.

“‘’Course— anybody else?” You held out your pack and it got passed down the line from Lee to Sam, Pam was already covered, but Kevin took two, unabashedly pocketing the spare for later.

Then it was go-time and autographs passed in a blur.

The venue staff broke down the tables and slowly the people who hung around were able to mingle with the bands. Dean felt the urgency of a few groups pressing in on him, but he just grabbed his nearest bandmate, Kevin, and made the circle of conversation bigger. 

“So you’re the new Cas— how’s that going?” A woman who was old enough to know better asked behind hipster glasses.

“Weren’t you out there?!” Dean pushed back. “Dude killed tonight.”

“Ah, thanks, Dean.” Kevin said like the asshole he is. “And to think the last eight months felt like a fever dream.”

“Yeah, yeah, pipsqueak, we’re keeping you around.”

The small crowd around them laughed nervously, not yet getting Kevin’s humor.

Dean posed for selfies and gave out hugs and even had a thumb war with someone’s eight-year-old (who should not have been hanging out so late, but he wasn’t their parent). By the time the rest of the band had slipped away to the official afterparty, which included more of their friends and family and the rest of VIP, Dean was beat. 

So he headed back to the dressing room for a quick pitstop, Benny at his side now that the stage was secured for tomorrow night’s show.

Waiting for him, sprawled out on the couch like the epitome of seduction, was Bela, slowly smoking a joint through an antique cigarette holder. Who the fuck even had one of those? But damn, it stopped him well and good.

“Hey.”

“Hi there, is it time for the next round?” She slowly pulled herself up and slinked into his space. Behind him, he heard the door close. Fucking Benny.

“Yeah, I was just coming in here to— uh, freshen up a bit.”

Bela took another hit. “I see. Well, I won’t keep you from all that, but I might tempt you to stick around a bit before bumping more elbows.”

Dean eyed the couch she had crawled off of and the whole expanse of their suddenly empty dressing room. “Uh, yeah, I could use something to take the edge off.”

There was an actual shower stall nestled in the back of the ensuite bathroom of the dressing room. Dean was not brave enough to tackle that series of possibilities at the moment. But he ddid a quick scrub down of his junk and pits at the sinks, because nobody deserved a whiff of stale ball sack even if they only did this half clothed and dirty. He was a gentleman, okay?

He made sure to pull a condom out of his wallet and moved it to his front pocket instead. With one final glance in the mirror, Dean stepped back out into the dressing room proper, to see Bela now sipping something clear and fizzy out of one of the small plastic cups the venue sold cocktails in, legs crossed and eyes wicked.

“Hey.”

This thing with Bela had been growing tedious the longer it went on, but with the tour and all the publicity it wasn’t like either of them could get their rocks off with randos anymore. Dean liked Bela, in a get under-your-skin way with a perpetual need to one up one another flare that felt very high school yet with more varying levels of stakes attached. 

But she was gorgeous and more than interested. So he indulged again.

Dean sank down onto the couch beside her and finished the roach she had left in the tip of her cigarette holder, propped up on an ugly brown glass ashtray that was potentially older than both of them.

Who knew where half the shit in the dressing room came from.

Once he was good and relaxed, Bela set down her drink.

“You know New Kids on the Block was my first concert. I got to meet them and pose for pictures before they took the stage at Whitley Bay. Nobody knew who I was, we had just finished filming the first season of Red Sky at Dawn, but they still made me feel like a princess.”

Dean didn’t quite know what to say. “Well I hope we rocked a little harder than a boy band.”

Bela nodded and considered. “I was wondering if you’d mind making me feel a little more grown up—- a little more wild.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “You got some sort of fantasy I need to know about here?”

Bela huffed a laugh, more to herself, she wasn’t quite looking at him.

“All this, backstage at a rock concert— sex, drugs and rock'n'roll. I guess I always wanted to be the teenage bad girl. But I was never allowed, my “reputation” always came first.”

“Okay, well, I’m not exactly into PYTs anymore, so if you want to play pretend, let's keep our own ages— I’m game, just tell me what you wanna do.”

Bela kissed him in response and creeped onto his lap.

Dean’s hands found her hips and dragged her closer, while his tongue turned the kiss sloppy. She hummed into his mouth and rubbed the warmth between her legs against his hardening dick. They really didn’t have time for a whole scenario here, but he wanted to make her happy.

“You like it a little dirty? Fucking groupie just need to get a piece of me to brag about to all your friends? Huh?”

Her voice came out accentless and needy, always a performer and goddamn pro too. “Please, Dean, I just want to touch it. To feel you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you can do more than that. How about you get on your knees and show me how much you want it?”

“I can do that— I love doing that,” Bela emphasized the last word, like it was too dirty to call by its name. 

“Yeah?” Dean leaned back and unbuttoned his jeans. “Show me.”

Bela eagerly dug him out of his boxers and fly, stroking him to his full glory. Her eyes sparkled conspiratorially. Dean tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before she took him deep inside her mouth.

Fucking hell was she warm and sucked him like she was pulling a golf ball through a garden hose.

“That’s it, take me deep. Show me how much you want me to come down that tight little throat of yours,” Dean growled, nearly spitting the words out until he closed his eyes. 

         He was transported back into his shower at home, the thoughts of you on your knees, of you teasing him, and running your bottom lip over the ridge of his tip. You lapping up the bead of precum you coaxed out of his slit. Dean wanted it to be you more than he should. But more than that, he wanted you anyway he could have you. And the thought of all the ways he would make you scream was what sent him over.

“FUCK!” Dean shouted, biting his bottom lip and holding Bela’s head in place as his dick finished twitching through his orgasm.

Bela purred and licked him clean. 

“You’re a fucking menace, I’ll have you know.” Dean said exasperated. And then pulled her face to his for a final kiss. “UGH! I have to go to at least another two parties now.”

Bela chuckled. “You can do it. You’re the lead singer of Phantom Traveler! You can’t be made useless from a single blow job.”

“Yeah, well, it was a killer bj.”

Bela rolled her eyes. “Stop bragging and help me fix my hair.”

Dean did as he was told.

Crowley was waiting at the after party. Which, fucking figured, but Dean and Bela showed up fashionably late had the snarky asshole smugger than a grandma who just gave her grandson his fifth cookie before sending him home for nap time.

Dean looked around the club, keeping quick tabs on the rest of the band and SPS. Jody and Donna were talking to Pam in the corner and he wouldn’t be surprised if somebody swapped hotel rooms that night. Those women knew how to have fun.

Patience and Kevin were talking to some more dressed up fans that might actually be family of someone or another at the label. Dean couldn’t remember what Crowley’s son looked like the last time he saw him, besides having an early Beatles ‘do.

Nancy and Sam were talking animatedly about something nerdy, Dean was certain. It even looked like Sam had found himself a triple red eye somewhere tonight, because there was no way that moose was that awake this late naturally.

Lee was sweet talking a group of ladies along the half wall near the bar, as Cesar watched from the corner amused. All of their people were there it seemed, he just hadn't spotted Charlie yet until he got a solid knuckle to the bicep.

“Took you long enough!” 

“A wizard is never late, he arrives precisely when he means to,” Dean quoted in his best Ian McKellan voice.

“Dude! Stop, you can’t do a good Gandalf and you know it!” Charlie begged. “So? Good night so far?”

She eyed Bela knowingly. “See anybody on my team? Besides the openers? I’m not touching that kind of drama again. Though Pam looks like she may be—?”

Dean chuckled. “Pam does what Pam wants— too late to stop her now. But, uh, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

Charlie held up her fist and Dean met it with a solid bump. “See you ‘round, Red.”

Bela waved at her as she left, comfortable at Dean’s side and smug as ever.

Dean made his way to the hor'dourves table and Bela went to find them fresh drinks. As far as afterparties went, it was a little more high brow than they usually were, but it wasn’t bad. 

Dean just wasn’t feeling it.

Or maybe it was the way Victor was leaning in to hear you better as you discussed something or another with him and Bobby and Annie across the bar. They ate and they drank and they got rowdier once everyone made it to the hotel. Lee had two girls heading up to his room, but he and Pam were arguing over who got to use their room for the night and who was picking up their luggage to make getting ready in the morning easier.

Sam and Madison kept stopping every five feet to kiss or grope one another. While Charlie and some curly haired girl with cat ears sticking out of her head were almost as gross.

SPS were riding into the hotel on the roadies’ backs, little Nancy on Jesse and Donna on Benny like they were jockeys or cowgirls. Kevin and Patience were carrying their bags and shoes, apparently, behind them, amused and begrudgingly helpful. Dean, Bela, you and Cesar all rode up on an elevator together, leaving behind most of the mayhem for a blissful stretch of two minutes of quiet.

You actually may have fallen asleep standing up.

Dean nudged you and you quickly snapped out of it, fumbling for your room key and dragging Bela with you.

“Uh, Y/N? I’m going to Dean’s— I’ll just get my stuff in the morning.”

“What? Oh! Yeah, of course.” You yawned so hard, Dean had to take a deep one himself. It didn’t lessen the heat that crept up his neck as you watched Bela walk the opposite way down the hall from your room. “See you guys— see you guys at breakfast.”

Dean wanted to say something, to be reassuring, you looked so sullen all of the sudden. His mouth wouldn’t work and his feet didn’t either until Bela tugged on his elbow and marched towards his penthouse suite.

He really wanted to shoot her in that moment.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

Chapter 27: Molto

[solanj]

His radiant lordship Xavier van Mirren in the flesh Unrivaled in the high art of infuriating every living being (un)lucky enough to be in his presence. And most non-living beings too, for that matter, daemons are not immune, we've checked. Employs that honed skill of his, alongside his abilities as an Astropath, in his official work as an Explicator and the leader of our warband. It's super effective. Once someone (no one important, really, just a Halo device user in the tertiary phase...) dared to infuriate him back. There is now a smoking crater where that halo user used to stand. Do not infuriate Xavier, for your own good.

[phoenixyfriend]

[Personal rambling about my relationship with an event of recent history. This is not meant to reflect anyone else's feelings on the subject, just my own. If you reblog, please engage in good faith.]

[TW: discussions of 9/11 and its effects]

One of the side-effects of watching a lot of videos on the topic of architecture, especially in NYC, is getting really strong, complicated feelings rising back up about 9/11.

I was living in Queens when it happened, and not yet six years old. I was young, but a few moments of the day it happened is pretty clear in my memory. I was too young and not connected directly enough to the event to really understand what was going on at the time, but it was very nearby and had very strong impacts on my life both immediately, and going forward.

(After all, I had to fly inter-continentally just to see my grandparents, and I had younger siblings. Any family from Serbia needed to apply for a visa to come over to visit us, and most of them didn't speak English. Imagine how difficult airports are, right after that, if you hadn't experienced it yourself. This doesn't apply to just New York, but it does apply to me.)

Anyway, the memories are pretty shaky but definitely there for me. I was lucky enough to not have anyone who died in the event or the aftermath, but my surroundings were pretty heavily impacted due to proximity, and I imagine there's a lot that happened that I don't remember because my parents shielded me from it.

The thing is... I was still there. I still remember it, and I feel a sense of connection to the way NYC chose to rebuild after, the ways it worked to commemorate the dead, etc. I was too young to be involved and, for a time, too distant--I lived in Colorado for six years, starting '07.

It's still the city that's defined much of my life, either while living in it or living on LI, which isn't NYC but is in its shadow in all ways. I've lived in or near NYC for over half my life.

So when I look at New Yorkers reacting to the event or commemorations of it, I get it. New Yorkers erecting monuments and having strong feelings about 9/11 makes sense. Of course the people who live here and were directly hit by it have strong opinions! It was a major event! Of course city residents went feral with anger when a random luxury housing unity tried to build higher than One World Trade Center. You don't just... choose to be larger than a building that was designed to commemorate one of the greatest tragedies in the city's recent history, especially not when that building's height is already symbolic, being exactly 1776ft tall at the spire.

It might seem stupid, but I get it. I understand why NYC residents were furious at the idea, given how contentious the supertalls already are.

I understand why, over twenty years on, the rebuilding is still ongoing. I understand why 2, 5, and the Perelman Performing Arts Center have taken so long, and are still years away from completion. Nobody wants to get this wrong.

And the reason it gets so complicated is because there's this stark difference to my feelings on how the average American, and also some New Yorkers, it's true, might use 9/11 as a tragedy to fuel their racism and xenophobia and jingoistic warmongering.

This isn't my tragedy, for all that I was in its shadow, saw the smoke rising and felt the echoes of it across my childhood. I didn't lose anyone in the attack or the aftermath, and I wasn't part of a minority group targeted in its wake. I was only ever on the fringes... but it was still my city, you know?

When I was in high school, I lived in Colorado. We were discussing the difference between primary, secondary, and tertiary sources in class. The teacher used 9/11 as an example, saying that everyone in the room was a secondary source, because we were alive and saw the events unfolding on television, but we weren't there, just getting the information secondhand from the news.

I raised my hand, and said I lived in New York at the time, just across the river, and the teacher acknowledged that I was significantly closer as a source than most of the class.

I don't call myself a primary source on this. I wasn't even six, yet. My memories have faded with time, and I wasn't as close as many were.

But there's still a pride in NYC and in the rebuilding, in the way that the city bounced back. It's not so much about the architecture and rebuilding, for all that its symbolism is important and meaningful in its own right. It's more about the smaller businesses that were impacted by the destruction of a large section of the financial district, the local delis and bodegas, the hot dog carts at Bowling Green, and the wider economy hit by the ripples of the event, which definitely did affect everything in the metro area, not just the immediate surroundings.

So it's not my tragedy, really, but it is New York's.

And there's a specific kind of distaste and rage in me when I see it co-opted. When I see the average American call it 'our' tragedy. 'The nation's' tragedy.

It's not. It's not yours to use for your violence and hate for what you call Other.

I don't feel suspicion when New Yorkers hold on to the symbolism of the event, and snap back at corporate interests that try to disrespect the memory of it. This is New York's tragedy, and it makes sense for New Yorkers to feel strongly about it.

I sure as hell suspect everyone else that tries to claim it, though.

[argyleheir]

Drabble - Mix

It's Argyle's Fandom Cheese Plate - Day 18! | Fandom: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde | Pairing: Henry Jekyll/Gabriel Utterson

"And now," says Henry, "the tertiary compound."

With great care and exactly as he has explained, I watch my friend let two perfect orbs of vermilion-hued fluid drip from the flask to the beaker—swirl the lot round—and then produce in the latter a most extraordinary effect.

"Gabriel!" Henry coughs against the ensuing billow of smoke. In a moment, he's enshrouded; but his voice is clear enough: "The window, man! Get the window!"

I run to it. And then to him. "My dear! Are you quite all right?"

He smiles. "Of course." And then: "Your gin and tonic, however..."

[blacksapphicguide]

Friendsgiving (movie)

AKA Dinner with Friends. 2020 movie. Drama, romance, holiday movie.

Plot points:

Star studded

Holiday movie (thanksgiving)

Friendship

Strong female leads

Multiple queer characters

No homophobia

Lesbian breakup

Open relationship

Kissing friends

Lesbian relationship (tertiary)

Real life black lesbian actor (Wanda Sykes)

Black sapphic characters:

Civil [lesbian] (Brianna Baker) Fairy gaymother #2 (Wanda Sykes) *Lauren [open experimental] (Aisha Tyler)

Connections:

Civil x Palo (interracial sapphic: black x white) Lauren x Abby (interracial sapphic: black x white)

Sex & Nudity - Moderate

Scene with dominatrix costume and BDSM

Character enters naked, but only his butt is shown

Male character shirtless the entire movie.

Implied sex (heterosexual)

Kissing and making out.

Violence & Gore - None

Profanity - Moderate

Use of the word ‘fuck, shit’.

Use of reclaimed sexuality slurs 'dyke'.

Alcohol, Drugs & Smoking - Mild

Social drinking.

Frightening & Intense Scenes - Mild

Baby having an allergic reaction.

[fantastic-fr-scries]

Obelisk Male

Cream / Peach / Orange , Tiger / Stripes / Smoke

Fire Pastel

[scryingworkshop]

[frtools]

New Flash Sale: Tertiary Dusthide Gene: Smoke

A new flash sale has been discovered for Tertiary Dusthide Gene: Smoke

A scroll that will change the tertiary gene of one Dusthide dragon to Smoke. This item can only be used once and will disappear after it has been applied.

Game database: click here Marketplace link: click here

Treasure: 95000 76000

[bonusdragons]

March 24, 2024:

Clay Tertiary, Guardian, Smoke.

Riviel of Seeker85's clan!

[divine-domme]

29

29. Do you have a favourite CNC scenario? Which is it?

Oh my yes. Crafted very specifically for one particular person, in fact (though I would be giddy to play it out with anyone). I want to hunt you. I want to hunt you and I want it to be transparently unfair.

I want to drug you before we even set out so that your head is swimming at the start and you will only get more disoriented with time.

I want you mostly clothed in colours that stand out amidst the trees, but your top torn open. Just the right amount covered to feel like maybe you could salvage just a little control if you could just get away, while sufficiently exposed to make it clear how impossible escape is.

I want to cuff your arms behind your back. I know you are already drugged, but it can't hurt to mess with your balance even more and make it harder to run through the woods. Make it easier to get accidentally caught on something.

I want you collared and tagged. I'm confident I could track you on my own given your handicaps, but this isn't meant to be a challenge - this is me playing with my food. (Also sending someone bound and drugged into the woods with no way for a sober spotter to quickly zero-in and find them if needed is a great way to get someone killed - necrophilia is not one of my kinks, so let's avoid that?)

Then I want to send you off with a shove. Don't worry too much about falling - I expect you to and won't immediately pounce. For one thing I'd still need to get my bow out and strung and ready, but more importantly? I want to be able to point and laugh at you, stumbling around helplessly, struggling to stand, and not even gone into the trees yet.

And you'll try your best, I am sure. Will try to run and find a place to hide, try to stay ahead of me as I stalk you. I plan to take my time and follow from a nice distance. Give you false hope, see how far you can get, at the very least let you go long enough to be a little winded. And then start shooting at you.

Realistically, at this point you will be so out of your head and tired that it won't take more than one or two blunted impacts to send you crashing to the forest floor again, but my hope is I will be able to tag you from enough of a distance that you can get up and run some more at least once before I reach you.

I won't take you right then, though. I'll pin you by the throat, get out a nice sharp blade, and cut you out of your pants. I will trail the blade up and down your exposed leg and tell you how much I am looking forward to consummating this hunt, and I will press the flat between your legs to drive home just how obviously you are enjoying being my prey.

Then I'll help you up and send you off again. I figure the amount of time it takes me to smoke a joint is fine. Again, it's my hope that you'll be into things enough that you will just take off like a scared little deer, but I'm prepared if not. In addition to helping me time things, if you don't run, I can just pick a bit of exposed skin and snuff the thing between each hit. Might not be the most convenient way to get a buzz, but that is a tertiary concern at best.

Then we repeat the chase, but this time even more desperate. You've already taken one shot at this and failed. You aren't as fresh as you were then, you have new bruises, and now exposed brush can nick at your legs. You wont get away. All you can do is make it amusing enough to me that I finish things next time I catch you - I could easily just keep striping you and sending off worse and worse if you don't.

But I trust you to be what you are at heart - my prey. You'll run. You'll be confused and frightened and hurt and out of your mind high and might not even notice when you the next arrow drops you.

Do it right and I'll take pity on you and tie your ankles together, let the chase be finished. I'll grab you by the hair and drag you down to the river to finish up and clean off. Even knowing what is coming, you'll be relieved. At least until then you don't have to run just hurt for me. And while the next bit will suck, after that it'll be over.

I'll put you on your knees by the river. I'll cut your underwear off as neat as I can. Then, as I fill you from behind, I'll move the blade to your throat and push your head under the water for a couple seconds.

I know your body will struggle, but I also know that you will feel more alive than you ever have. Every time I pull you up for air it will be the sweetest breath of your life. The water and steel keeping you there every time you go back under will be the sharpest cold you can imagine. And when I cum inside you, it will be the warmest and most welcome thing you have ever felt.

So yeah, I do have a favourite cnc scenario. I have given it a lot of thought.

Send me a number and I will answer your kinky questions!

[lets-make-a-dragon-tournament]

TERTIARY GENE POLLS ROUND 2 SIDE 1 POLL 4

Standard 3-way poll rules apply, one day poll first then a 6 day with the two top choices!

Genes shown under the cut!

SMOKE

STAINED

VEINED