#Darker Waves Festival

[iloveasunflower]

Huntington Beach, what an amazing crowd. Maybe we should play more of these… festivals… Thank you for having us, @darkerwavesfest. 🌊

From Tears For Fears on Twitter.

[imustbeamermaidrango]

I got to see Chino Moreno sing live. That is all.

[mr-huntington-beach]

Where's Huntington Beach: Unveiling the Charms of Surf City

Nestled along the sun-kissed shores of Southern California, Huntington Beach, often affectionately known as "Surf City," is a coastal gem that seamlessly blends laid-back beach vibes with a vibrant community spirit. Located in Orange County, what makes this city is not just a spot on the map, but a destination that captures hearts and waves alike.

Geography:

Huntington Beach is situated in Orange County, approximately 40 miles south of Los Angeles. Boasting a stretch of over 8 miles of pristine coastline, the city is a mecca for surfers, beach enthusiasts, and those seeking the quintessential Californian experience. The iconic Huntington Beach Pier, extending into the Pacific, serves as a symbol of the city's coastal allure.

Community Spirit:

One of the defining features of Huntington Beach is its strong sense of community. The residents, known for their laid-back attitude and friendliness, contribute to the warm and welcoming atmosphere. The city hosts various community events throughout the year, fostering a sense of togetherness. From local farmers' markets to neighborhood festivals, there's always something happening to bring people closer.

Special Events:

Huntington Beach comes alive with a myriad of special events that cater to diverse tastes. The annual U.S. Open of Surfing attracts world-class surfers and spectators alike, creating a lively and energetic atmosphere. The Fourth of July celebrations, complete with a spectacular fireworks display over the ocean, draw crowds from far and wide. Additionally, the Surf City Nights street fair, held every Tuesday, showcases local artisans, musicians, and delectable cuisine.

Recently we've had two successful events the Pacific Airshow and Darker Waves Festival. Even the rain and wind of the cold November night for the Darker Waves could not keep people from attending the music festival at Huntington Beach City Beach. I will say it was an awesome moment during the air show when the F-22, F-35 and P-51D Mustang flew together doing amazing coordinated stunts. In my opinion better than the Thunderbirds Finale.

School System: For families considering a move to Huntington Beach, the city boasts a commendable school system. The Huntington Beach City School District and the Huntington Beach Union High School District oversee a range of public schools known for their academic excellence and extracurricular offerings. The city's commitment to education is evident in the well-maintained campuses and dedicated teaching staff.

Edison High School: Nurturing Excellence in Academics and Beyond Edison High School, a cornerstone of the Huntington Beach Union High School District, stands as a beacon of academic achievement and community pride. Nestled in the heart of Huntington Beach, Edison High has earned a stellar reputation for its commitment to excellence. With a dedicated faculty and a wide range of academic programs, the school provides students with a solid foundation for success. Beyond the classrooms, Edison High is known for its vibrant extracurricular activities, including competitive sports teams, award-winning arts programs, and clubs that cater to diverse interests. The Chargers, as the students are affectionately known, not only excel academically but also embody a spirit of camaraderie that contributes to the overall sense of community within the school.

Huntington Beach High School: Where Tradition Meets Innovation Huntington Beach High School, another jewel in the educational landscape of Surf City, seamlessly blends tradition with innovation. With a history dating back to the early 1900s, the school has stood the test of time, consistently adapting to the evolving needs of its students. The Oilers, the school's mascot, take pride in a comprehensive curriculum that prepares students for both college and the workforce. The campus, surrounded by palm trees and just a stone's throw from the iconic Huntington Beach Pier, provides an inspiring backdrop for learning. From championship-winning sports teams to an array of performing arts programs, Huntington Beach High School embodies a holistic approach to education, fostering not only academic growth but also personal development and a sense of community that extends well beyond graduation.

Why People Come to Huntington Beach:

Surfing Paradise: With waves that beckon both beginners and seasoned surfers, Huntington Beach is a surfing paradise. The Surf City designation is not just a title; it's a way of life.

Outdoor Recreation: Beyond the beaches, the city offers a plethora of outdoor activities. From biking along the scenic trails to exploring the Bolsa Chica Ecological Reserve, nature lovers find ample reasons to stay active.

Cultural Scene: Huntington Beach strikes a balance between beach culture and a thriving arts scene. The Huntington Beach Art Center and the International Surfing Museum are testaments to the city's cultural richness.

Huntington Beach is NOT just a dot on the map; it's THE lifestyle. Whether you're drawn by the crashing waves, the tight-knit community, or the diverse events, Surf City USA has a way of making you feel like you've found your own piece of paradise on the coast.

Come for the sunsets, stay for the surf, and discover why Huntington Beach is more than a location—it's a destination worth exploring.

Conrad Mazeika

Mr. Huntington Beach Real Estate

315 7th St D

Huntington Beach, CA 92648

949-310-4110

[mbeezkneez]

Darker Waves today

[wonderlesch]

Can’t Miss November 2023 Events

Hey There November Lovers! Ready to dive in headfirst into all the exciting events this month has to offer. There are Sci-Fi conventions, Music Festivals, Beer Festivals and more. Click the link, grab your calendar and let's make November busy!

Hello and Welcome to my next Travel Destination Guide Blog Post Can’t Miss November 2023 Events. Here I share Orlando Beer Festival, TusCon’s Sci-Fi Fantasy Convention, Disco Trip Music Festival and several other can’t miss events. Get your calendars out and start planning your next November getaway! Orlando Beer Festival November 4, 2023 Scheduled the first Saturday in November Orlando Beer…

[imustbeamermaidrango]

I'm going to see Drab Majesty this Novemburrrrrrrr

😎😁🌚

Darker Waves Fest 2023

[melancholydoll]

Darker Waves @ Huntington Beach

[goldengodcannibal]

Everyone gets to see AFI tomorrow but MEEEEE

[senoritafish]

So, this is going on on the beach about a mile from my house. A few the of artists I wouldn't have minded seeing, but a bit pricey for my blood.

This thing is, we can hear it fairly clearly. I think it started last night and I just thought some of our neighbors were being loud. Weirdly enough I was listening to 91X (a San Diego station that comes in here when the weather is favorable) a few weeks ago, and they were giving away tickets for this. They're a 2 hour drive south of us, but I don't recall hearing about it on local stations.

[schisms]

umm……leem and i are gonna go see alice in chains :}

[iloveasunflower]

Thank you Huntington Beach, you were the Hyena’s hymen 😊. What’s the collective noun for Goths? A gaggle of Goths? It was an absolute joy @darkerwavesfest

from Curt Smith on Twitter

[imustbeamermaidrango]

Drab Majesty <3 <3 <3

[monster-disaster]

[elf] Everen +1

elf!Everen x human!Reader Good to know: barely any spice

Summary: You barely get to the party but Everen already wants to leave.

Tell me again, why do I have to be here? The bright light of his phone illuminates his sharp features. The bluish glow follows the straight slope of his nose and the curve of his lips. They are currently twisted into a frown.

Because it’s your brother’s party, comes the reply after a few seconds, and Everen scoffs softly, his thumb hovering over the screen.

Where are you anyway? he sends back.

I’ll be there in a sec.

Everen huffs in displeasure but lets the conversation drop, sliding his phone into the back pocket of his tight jeans. He glances around, eyes skimming over the dimly lit room. The string of lights cast everything in shifting hues of orange and purple, making it feel like he is trapped in a nightmare full of carved pumpkins and fake bats. Shadows dance across the walls, stretching into long, twisted shapes that sway in time with the bass-heavy music. Paper ghosts and cobwebs hang from the ceiling, all cheap and hastily arranged, fluttering in the slight draft from an open window. Their eerie glow mingles with the festive lights.

The elf shifts his weight, trying to find a comfortable spot against the wall while glancing at the entrance door every now and again. He grits his teeth and forces himself to stay put, resisting the urge to bolt back outside into the cool night air. He’d promised to at least try to enjoy himself tonight, but it’s a promise that feels thinner by the second. As thin as the fake fog pooling around his feet.

“I see you are having fun, brother,” a familiar voice cuts through the thumping music.

Everen rolls his eyes, the irritation clear on his face as he turns his gaze toward the source. His younger brother stands there, dressed in a sleek black suit with fake vampire fangs that catch the dim light when he grins. His hair, a few shades darker than Everen’s, is tied back with a leather strap. It gives him a slightly rakish look that matches his playful attitude.

“Don’t even start,” Everen grunts, but his gruff demeanor only earns a warm, joyful laugh from Eenor. The sound is bright in the roar of the party.

“Where is your pretty assistant?” the younger elf teases, leaning in just enough to be heard over the music. “Maybe she’d lift your spirit.”

“She is on her way,” Everen replies. His tone is guarded as he narrows his eyes at his brother. Since when did he pay attention to whether you were pretty or not? He studies him, searching for the usual hint of mischief, but his brother’s grin is as easygoing as ever.

The older elf shifts his stance, trying to dismiss the discomfort that prickles at the back of his mind. His brother’s grin, paired with those ridiculous fake fangs, seems far too amused, and Everen’s suspicion only deepens.

“Oh,” Eenor breaks the silence after a few seconds, his grin widening as he glances toward the door. “She is here.”

Everen straightens instinctively at his brother’s words, a reflex that irritates him the moment he catches himself doing it. He follows his brother’s gaze to the entrance, where you’re busy maneuvering your coat onto one of the overcrowded racks. The noise of the party fades for a moment in his ears as he takes you in. Your tight black jeans hug your curves like a second skin. A loose white button-up shirt, clearly a few sizes too big for you, is tucked neatly into the waistband.

Next to him, his brother lets out a laugh, and Everen shoots him an irritated, confused look. The young elf's amusement only deepens, and Everen’s frown tightens. He shifts on his feet, the party’s rhythm pressing against his mind, but he can’t quite tear his gaze away from you as you finally manage to hang your coat and turn toward the room, scanning the crowd.

“We are here, Y/N!” Eenor shouts, waving his hand above the crowd to catch your attention.

You spot them quickly and navigate through the guest with a grin on your face. “Hey,” you greet as you approach, giving a quick glance around the room. “The party looks good,” you add, taking in the vibrating lights and playful decorations.

Everen, standing rigidly beside his brother, has to bite his lip to stop himself from scoffing at your comment.

He eyes you, frowning slightly. “What are you supposed to be?” His gaze sweeps over your outfit again.

You grin up at him, eyes glinting with mischief. “You.”

Everen’s eyes widen in surprise, his lips parting slightly. Meanwhile, his brother’s booming laughter fills the space between you, his amusement echoing off the walls.

“That’s great, Y/N!” the elf laughs, clapping you on the shoulder. “I love it. Let me grab you something to drink.”

“Thanks,” you reply with a chuckle, watching him head off before turning your attention back to Everen. You tilt your head, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “So? What do you think?”

Everen scowls, his arms crossing over his chest as he stares down at you. “You are not me.”

“Of course I am,” you retort, raising an eyebrow as you gesture to his outfit. He’s in his usual attire; fitted jeans and a crisp white shirt that hugs his lean frame perfectly. The resemblance is amusing, especially since you clearly put in some effort, unlike Everen, who didn’t even bother with a costume.

“It looks stupid,” he grunts, a frown etched on his face.

You blink at him, unimpressed. “Yeah,” you respond dryly. “I’m the one who looks stupid.” Your voice drips with sarcasm.

The room is a chaotic mix of dramatic capes, fake blood, and short skirts, with people leaning into the theme of the night with exaggerated enthusiasm. Around you, everyone is dressed as vampires, horror movie killers, and the inevitable assortment of slutty nuns and nurses.

Everen glances around again, following your gaze, and his scowl deepens as he watches someone stumble past in a cheap Frankenstein costume. The thick green paint on the guy’s face looks like it might peel off at any moment, and the elf can’t help but roll his eyes. A group of witches in matching hats giggle in one corner while a pair of ghostly figures with sheets draped over their heads approach them, looking more comical than scary.

“They look stupid, too,” he mutters in stubborn defiance.

You can’t help but chuckle at his irritation. You are used to this by now. “But that’s the point!” you reply, your voice bright with laughter. “It’s Halloween. It’s all about being over-the-top and having fun.”

Everen shoots you a sidelong glance. “Fun for who?” he counters, eyebrow arched. “Not for me. I would rather be anywhere but here.”

You roll your eyes again, exasperated. “It doesn’t matter where you are, you always want to be somewhere else.”

A slow, sly grin pulls at the corners of his lips as he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You know that’s not true.”

Your breath hitches at the meaning behind his words. Ever since you followed him to Ironridge, you find yourself in his arms quite often, much to your annoyance and his satisfaction.

“No,” you reply firmly, stepping back to create some distance between you, though your body betrays you immediately, craving the warmth he radiates. “It’s a party. We are here for your brother.”

Everen grunts, scanning the crowd until he spots his younger sibling among a group of angels with fluffy fake wings and short skirts. He is sipping from the disgustingly orange punch he originally intended for you.

“I think he is fine without us,” he mutters dismissively.

“Everen,” you groan. He doesn't even have to say anything, you already know his thoughts.

Your boss turns back to you. A smirk plays on his lips, and his eyes glint with mischief. “You can’t tell me you don't want the same thing,” he challenges.

You bite your lip, trying to maintain your composure even though you can feel the heat pooling in your belly. “This isn’t about me,” you insist stubbornly.

“Right,” he replies, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Just here for my brother, huh?”

"No," you reply. "I'm here because you wouldn't be here otherwise."

By the time you found out about the party, Everen had at least ten excuses to stay out of it.

"Come on," the male hums, stepping closer until his breath fans over your ear, warming you up from the inside out.

"People will see," you reason, though it sounds weak even for you.

"So?" He asks, wrapping his arms around your middle until you are pressed against his lean body.

You tilt your head to frown up at him, catching the faint smirk playing on his lips. “So?” you echo.

Your relationship with Everen is nothing short of a mess. He is your boss, a fact that should keep things strictly professional, but instead, it’s become another layer of tension. You sleep together, argue over the smallest things, and sometimes share lazy mornings like a couple. Yet, neither of you has dared to put a name to it. Most days, you’re both too caught up in your banter to dive into what this really means.

The elf, instead of answering, shrugs and shifts with an effortless motion, maneuvering you both until you find yourself between him and the wall. The fake spiderwebs hanging from the shelves above stick to your shirt, but none of you care about it.

"Everen," you warn, but your voice falters, betraying you as it slips into a breathless gasp when he slides his leg between yours, pressing up just enough to make your thoughts scatter. The closeness, the firm heat of his thigh against you, sends a rush of heat through your body. "Wha—" you try to form the question, but the word dies on your lips once again when the elf leans down, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s as impatient as it is demanding.

You fall into his rhythm easily. Your body responds instinctively to the way his lips move against yours, taking everything he can from you. The hunger between you hums beneath the pulse of the loud music surrounding you. Each beat thrums through your veins and ripples down your spine. Your hands glide upward, fingers slipping along the firm lines of his neck before tangling into his white-blond hair. The strands are soft between your fingers as you pull him closer, opening your mouth to deepen the kiss.

"See?" Everen murmurs against your lips. His voice is a low rumble that you can feel as much as hear. His breath is warm and teasing, brushing over your flushed skin. "Nobody cares." His words carry a cocky edge, and before you can say anything, he moves his leg, pressing it more firmly between your thighs.

The shift sends a jolt of heat through you. The friction through the thick fabric of your jeans is maddening. It’s not enough to ease the ache building inside you, but just enough to make you crave more. The pressure is perfectly placed, grinding against your clit with every subtle shift of his body, making your breath hitch and your knees threaten to go weak. You bite back a whimper, clinging to his shoulders for support as your head falls back against the wall.

"Just say the word, and we can go back to my place." His mouth brushes over the corner of your lips, not quite kissing you again, but close enough to let you feel his smile, triumphant and amused.

"You are insufferable," you groan, half-annoyed, half-aroused.

The elf chuckles. His chest rumbles against yours. "Tell me something I don't know."

With feigned annoyance, you let out a dramatic sigh. Your grip on his shoulders tightens, though, as you look up at him. "Let's get out of here, then."

The moment the words leave your lips, Everen’s smile morphs into a wicked smirk. A spark of mischief gleams in his eyes underneath the vibrating lights of the party that faded into the background a long time ago. "That’s what I like to hear."

_ Tumblr Masterlist Original Everen Story Halloween week on my Patreon 🎃

[mynameis-noe-body]

Catch me if you can, Chief!

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: It's the 4th of July in Hawkins, and while everybody's having fun at the amusement park, the only one who's catching your attention is Jim Hopper, Chief of Police — and he's looking at you, equally interested.

OR — you and Hopper have fun in the parking lot, in his car.

The mayor of Hawkins wasn't a particularly politically gifted man, easily bribed and evidently fishy in his manners, devoid of any charm. However, he had always thrown the best Fourth of July parties. This year, as always, Hawkins park has been transformed into a huge, glittering Luna Park. It's just sunset, and everything is illuminated with colored neon, written in large letters attracting people like moths to a flame. Children run amused among the rides, greedy for cotton candy and soft candies, lollipops and sugar-coated pancakes. Families jump from one attraction to another holding hands with the little ones, whose eyes sparkle like so many little stars, inebriated by the festivities. Music plays everywhere, incessant and covered only by the sound of laughter. It's a warm summer evening. The clear sky, of a warm blue that gets darker as the minutes go by, is the backdrop for a blanket of stars that finally seem to show themselves. And everyone is waiting for the fireworks.

Yet, none of this catches your eye. The usual amusements, the usual rides, the usual sweets. You even wore the same shorts as last year, the jeans just a little tighter around your hips, a little shorter along the soft curve of your buttocks. You are slightly sweaty, a wet line permeates your white shirt leaving a transparent veil between your breasts. A breath of fresh wind ruffles your hair, giving you relief. And your eyes, dreamy and greedy, rest on only one person. Jim Hopper, Chief of Police. He's not on duty tonight. Jane Hopper, his young adopted daughter, has already ridden off on the ferris wheel with her boyfriend, and he seems almost annoyed; he's been chatting with your father for a few minutes now, with an ice-cold beer in his hands. He looks bored, hot. That Hawaiian shirt would look ridiculous on anyone else, but he fills it completely. His thick arms, full and shot through with soft muscles, are absolutely delightful. You can't take your eyes off the way his chest looks so large and huge and tight under that garment. Almost as hot and delicious as his ass - god, a forty-year-old man has no right to be that damn sexy. Irresistible.

If you weren't (almost) sure that Jim could never be attracted to someone as seemingly young and green as you, you'd say that his eyes have turned to look at you more than once ... and yet, it seems so. His gaze is so heavy on you, you feel it glide over every curve of your body, you almost feel him touching your sweaty clothes on top of you – you wish they were his hands. You smile, wave your hand to say hello. Your father smiles, but you don't look at him. Jim doesn't take his eyes off you, even when you take your blue lollipop - just bought from the stall - and suck it hard into your mouth, between your cheeks. You lick it until it leaves a blue streak on the soft flesh of your tongue, around the edge of your rosy lips. You just wait for your dad to walk away - your mom must still be somewhere near the photobooth - and then, finally, you walk towards him.

He wants to spank you. It's a sick, dirty, damned irrepressible impulse. You, with your languid eyes, and that mouth that must be the softest and sweetest he could ever taste, drive him crazy ever since he realized that inside your tight jeans, inside your tight and low-cut T-shirts, inside your full clothes, you've grown into a young, gorgeous woman. He would like to wrap his fingers around your neck, squeeze it until he takes your breath away and hear you beg. Beg for what - this is not important. But when you get close, he's wearing his best smile. Safe, protective - all that he, in that moment, is not. No, you're a lost little sheep, and he's a hungry wolf who can't wait to sink his teeth into your flesh.

"Hello, Chief" you chirp, and smile. Your lips are smeared with blue sugar. It must be delicious.

Jim smiles. "Hey, kid. You okay?"

You huff with an amused laugh. "Kid? I haven't been a kid in a while, Hop. What do I have to do to show you that?"

Adorable. Your games are adorable. "Um, I don't know." Jim takes the lollipop stick, his rough thumb lingering a moment longer on the outline of your lip. The soft blush on your cheeks blossoms on your neck, runs down your chest and his greedy eyes can't help but wonder how far that sweet blush extends on your body. The treat slides out of your mouth, resting on your lips. "A woman, for example, wouldn't waste time with these sweets."

You smile, you fucking vixen. "Really?" you reply, impertinent. Snatching the lollipop from his hand, you suck it once more between your clenched cheeks before handing it to him. There's still a glistening trace of saliva around it. "It's so good, it would be a shame to throw it away. Why don't you taste it?"

His nostrils flare, sniffing in the cool evening air in a desperate attempt to hold on to what little control he has left. And he smiles. Tense, forced-like his pants, increasingly tight and uncomfortable. But when he barely opens his mouth, and tries to take the lollipop from your hand, you push it away, hiding it back in your cheek. "If you want it, you gotta catch it!" and with a goofy laugh, you walk off, hopping towards the parking lots.

God, you will be the death of him.

It's not difficult to find you, leaning against his police van with only one hip, your tongue sinuously rolling around the little blue sugar left, that sweet and colorful stain in your mouth that he doesn't want to wait any longer to taste. You expect him to stop, an amused grin, an almost pedantic reproach, and instead Jim keeps walking towards you with large steps, determined and without hesitation. His eyes have never been so dark and deep, his lips are already anticipating yours and just a moment - he is on you, Hopper cages you between the metal car door and his warm and massive body, his left hand on your hip digs into the softness of your body so hard it almost leaves a mark and his left hand grips your neck - tight enough to take a quick breath away, before covering your lips with his.

The lollipop falls forgotten on the floor.

His tongue eagerly seeks yours, fills your mouth and feeds on your sweet taste. You are perfect - perfect. Your small stifled moans die in your throat as he devours your lips, sucks your tongue between his lips and bites lightly into your mouth just to make you feel how he could destroy you with a simple kiss, break your lip and suck it again.

"Didn't they ever tell you it's not safe to tease a man like me, hm?" he growls into your skin, you feel the roughness of his beard scratching your neck, his lips sucking red marks all over you, as if to write his name on your body. It's terrifying, to find yourself powerless in such intense hands, pressed against such a strong and warm body. It's exciting. Pressing your palm against your mouth, you try to stifle a gasp, somewhere between pleasure and pain when he pinches your nipples from over the top of your shirt. "Your dad knows what you like to do? Runnin' around the parking lot, begging like a desperate bitch, with your stupid, little games? You knew this would happen." His voice makes you tremble with pleasure, and anxiety. "Remember that, when you think about it. You wanted it - you want me, my hands, my tongue, my cock. Come on, feel it.” Jim takes your hand, abruptly, places it on his crotch and squeezes it inside his. Stifling a moan against your neck, he pushes and presses on you. And it's big and hard and thick like no other. You're almost scared, but you're dying to suck it and feel it emptied down your throat.

"Please" you cry, a little whispered prayer, and so desperate. "Please give it to me - please!"

"That's it, love" he grunts "you asked for this." And his hand rips the button of your shorts with an unheard-of force, you almost feel the fabric of the seam tear. Violently, Hopper undresses you. You are naked from the waist down, you are all wet, clammy with sweat and arousal. His fingers are calloused, rough, so thick, when his middle finger swirls around that swollen pearl, you can't help but dig your face into his chest and stifle a cry of pleasure. He smells of tobacco, beer, cheap cologne, sweat. He's so gross and masculine and delicious at the same time - you're confused and so wet for him, you can't think of anything else. Two fingers slide inside you, you're tight but so wet that Jim can only feel the softness of your body. "So fucking wet, baby. So tight - how is it, hm? Tell me you like it."

"God - yes - yes, Hopper, more!"

He laughs, the bastard. "Such a fucking, little slut. That's what you are, fucking desperate for some dick."

"Only yours" you cry "only you, chief."

He groans at the name. "Keep on with this shit and I won't get to fuck you. And you're dying for me to fuck this tight little cunt."

His fingers dig into your sweet juices, so wet you can feel the sound of his movement around your nectar, his fingers pressing hard against that perfect spot inside you, his thumb rough and flat on your clit until it rips a violent, sudden orgasm. Your legs are shaking, you dig your nails into his muscular arms, clinging to him to keep from passing out and you can't even think. You don't notice that he has opened the car door, and you fall backwards into the seats not knowing what to expect. Only when he enters, sitting next to you, fumbling with his belt and the zipper of his trousers, do you know what awaits you.

You smile, spitefully. "I've waited so long, chief. Give it to me, please. Want you so much."

"Yeah?" for the first time he almost seems to blush. Your words stroke his ego in a way he's forgotten; that such a delightful young beauty as you whould so desire him, it was flattering. And exciting. "Then be a good girl and take it all." Hopper pushed you against the seat and spun on top of you. One hand against the window, the other wrapped around your hips to lift your pelvis and push into you. “Oh, shit” he moans, burying his face in the corner of your neck. "Fucking tight."

You have to stuff your gasps against his shoulder, he's so big inside you, he stretches you - so wide open, it's almost painful, but he's perfect inside you. And when he starts to move, coming out slowly, enjoying your softness, and then pushing harder, ruthless and greedy inside you, you can no longer hold back that immense pleasure. "God, fuck yeah-again, again" you plead and he growls, vents and uses your body for his pleasure, like a flimsy toy in his hands, he slams you into the seat, without any kindness. The car sways, screeches, you feel nothing but his hot, ragged breath against your skin, his stiff legs using all their strength to press you against the seat and drive his hard cock between the abused lips of yours wet pussy. You feel him hit that spot, again, your legs gripping his wide hips, wide open to take him all the way into you, so deep—he's touching places you thought weren't there inside you. "Oh fuck, fuck Hopper, I'm going to - I'm gonna-"

"Come - fucking come for me!" he growls. With a desperate moan, one last thrust into you, he feels your pussy throbbing around his member, squeezing and milking it desperately, fully enjoying your orgasm, and it's so intense he can hardly contain himself anymore - as soon as you start again to breathe, Jim slips out and comes too. He empties on you, on your bare thighs, on your belly, splashes of hot cum dirty your skin and your ruined clothes as he masturbates all of his orgasm on you, with a last desperate breath.

"Shit" he whispers, finally. Dropping into the seat next to you, Hopper inhales deeply, and his gasps slowly extinguish, as he decides to grab a cigarette and roll down the car window. "Look at you" he comments, with an amused smile. "Looking like I just murdered you, love."

You smile, tired and fully satisfied. "No, not yet, Hop."

He looks at you, curious. Almost hesitant. But your eyes are so bright – no one should be looked at with such devotion after doing what he just did. Yet there is something so perversely satisfying about seeing his cum on your bare thighs. With a handkerchief, Hopper cleans you, slowly. A hand combs your hair, before stroking your cheek. "Go back to your rides, kid" he grins "I bet we'll see each other again soon."

You bite your lip, and he almost wants to kiss you again, watching you get dressed. "Only if you can catch me, chief." And with that cheeky smile of yours, you leave his car, already fantasizing about your next meeting.

Like it, love it, hate it? Let me know! And if you feel a little naughty and wanting for more, please know my requests are open 🖤

[mikashisus]

EMPIRE OF BLOOD

02. when does a ripple become a tidal wave

TAGLIST ! @https-sourlimes @ughscara @yourfavoritefreakyhan @wystiix @kvriealis @cherieiu @pixelcafe-network

NOTES: the first portion of this chapter has been sitting in my drafts for maybe 2-3 months now, i just didn't know how to continue it until now, and i'm more than pleased with the result! fun fact: i actually had to look up how to load and fire a musket for this chapter and it was actually really cool!! huge ty to @mitsvriii for proofreading this for me! <3

WC: 4.3k (we love to see consistency)

masterlist | prev. | next

The sun was partially covered by the clouds when you stepped outside of the House in the early afternoon. Distant rumbles of thunder echoed, and you lazily raised a hand to check for raindrops. 

It was too doom and gloom lately for your liking. Even though you loved watching the rain pitter patter on the streets of Fontaine from your bedroom window, it was hard weather to work in. 

Rain made missions harder for you. You couldn’t see your target, you couldn’t move as fast because your soaking wet clothes hindered your movement, and running in heels on slippery streets called for a death sentence. 

It was pleasant to look at and bask in, but not to work in. 

Your thoughts paused on one such topic: work. Without a moment’s delay, you secured your thigh holsters one last time and set off for the city’s forgery. 

Thunder continued to rumble, but there were no signs of lightning. You nodded approvingly at this fact, and your eyes went back to darting between the faces of the people passing by you on the street. You knew each of their faces, studied their names and appearances from the papers that Father gave you to read. 

Absentmindedly, you tapped your thigh as you hummed softly under your breath. Today was supposed to be your day off; Well, before one of your ‘siblings’ woke up with a fever and their mission was handed off to you. 

You usually didn’t take on information gathering missions. Everyone in the House was well aware of your previous failed attempts to do so from a young age. The only thing you were good at was carrying out the less than ideal dirty work– one of the so-called “darker” jobs in the House: assassinations. 

None of the other children favored your job; especially not Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet. 

Truthfully, you were one of the only children in the House who took on assassination missions. You were quick and thorough, never missing your targets. You could easily turn off your emotions and focus entirely on your tasks. Due to this, Father had no doubt in her mind that you could finish the job. All heavy duty work in that regard was passed to you without a second thought. 

If it crossed someone else’s desk, they immediately passed it to you. And sure enough, you would return at an alarmingly fast pace, claiming the work had been completed. 

It felt nice… having people trust you like that. It felt nice— feeling like you had power and strength. A small smile twitched at your lips. It was gone as soon as it appeared as you approached the forgery. 

The man you were supposed to meet was here already, chatting idly with the owner of the shop. They were having a lovely conversation about this year’s Weinlesefest in Mondstadt, which piqued your interest. 

You haven’t heard the mention of Weinlesefest in some time. 

“Oh, really? I had no idea Mondstadt had that kind of festival!” Came the man’s words. “Sounds interesting, though! Being able to brew wine with family and gathering together as a community to share drinks. Sounds like something I’d like!” 

“Weinlesefest, over the course of Mondstadt’s history, became a holiday to welcome the Anemo Archon, Barbatos, home during the harvest season.” You said calmly, walking up to them without a sound. 

The woman screeched in surprise, practically jumping out of her skin at the sudden appearance of another person. She placed a hand over her heart upon seeing you, and let out a heavy sigh of relief. 

You continued, “The people of Mondstadt brew wine and offer it up to Lord Barbatos. If he is satisfied with the wine, he guides a gentle breeze to bless the people. This is usually the time of year that Mondstadters living in other nations miss their homeland the most, because it is a holiday spent entirely with family and friends.” 

“Why hello, (Name)!” 

A pout settled on your lips as your superior, Childe, ruffled your hair with a bright smile on his face. A chuckle rumbled out from his chest as he greeted you softly just like he did every other time you saw him. You suspected it was because you reminded him of his younger sister. 

Although there was not much you knew about the Eleventh Harbinger, you did know that he had siblings and he was a very family oriented man. You wondered if that was the reason why Father respected him…to some degree, at least. 

“I see you haven’t changed when it comes to sneaking up on others! Your stealth is impeccable!” He complimented, removing his hand from your head. 

You raised a brow in surprise. “Hm? But I didn’t—” 

He abruptly changed the subject. It was a repetitive trait of his that irritated you. “Now back to that Mondstadt festival. How do you say it again? Vine…something?” 

Your eye twitched at his poor attempt to say the name. With a smug smirk on your lips, the word fell from your mouth effortlessly, as if you could fluently speak the language of Mondstadt, which was a fact that only you and Father were privy to. 

“Weinlesefest.” 

Childe’s brows furrowed. “How come you can say it so easily?” 

No one knew your origins, except for Arlecchino and Signora, but the latter was dead…and all of the secrets you shared with her were ones she had taken to the grave. As far as anyone else knew, you were a child of Fontaine. But you and Father knew the truth. 

“Father took me to Mondstadt a few times. After the first visit, I said I would like to learn the language of the nation, and she set up a tutor for me immediately upon our return to Fontaine.” 

Your lie, as ever, was flawless enough to convince him. He hummed in understanding, stroking his chin. “I see. I guess that makes sense.” 

With Childe, you had to amp up your deception. One slip up in your body language, a stutter in your words, or the wrong tone of voice, and he would instantly see right through whatever fabrication you tried to ensnare him in. It was like that with all of the Harbingers, but more so with your own Father. You had a lot of experience in deceiving her.

“But why Mondstadtian of all languages?” he questioned, “you don’t take me as that type of person. I think you’d enjoy learning Liyuen instead. Or maybe Inazuman—”

“Sir, we’re getting off topic…” You attempted to bring the conversation back to the topic of work. That’s what you were here for, after all. 

He laughed sheepishly. “Right! Man, you’re still a stick in the mud, huh? It’s always ‘work’ with you, nothing more and nothing less,” he sighed, “anyways. I was supposed to meet one of your siblings here, but it seems they’re not—” 

“I was sent in their stead,” you stated, “they got sick unexpectedly, so I took on their task for them.” 

“I see. Well, do you have the documents, then?” 

You nodded curtly. No matter what job was handed to you, you always took it seriously. Childe’s words were correct: you were always talking about work. Rarely did you ever discuss anything else with him. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him, but simply because you had nothing else to talk about. You weren’t much of a talker, and you never have been. 

The first time you met Childe, it took him four hours before he was able to get you to say anything back to him, and even then, it was only because he brought up your position in the House. 

“I have them all right here.” You lifted your skirt a little to undo the clasp on your thigh holster, and pulled out a set of folded up documents that were given to you by Father. “I triple checked I had the right count before I left. All twenty-three pages are there in order, and the list of names on the last page has been rearranged in alphabetical order for your perusal.” 

His eye twitched. You’ve known him for how many years now and you still acted formally around him. It was tiring. He understood that you took your work incredibly seriously and you were acting professional, but you didn’t have to act that way around him. Around him, you could relax. But if you never did that before, he knew you weren’t going to start now. 

He let out a heavy sigh. “Great, thanks. Can’t wait to look over these later.” He absolutely despised paperwork. He’d rather be sparring with some of Fontaine’s champion duelists right now instead of participating in the business aspect of his job. 

A small snort left your lips. It was so quiet he thought he had imagined it, before he looked up to see you covering your mouth with your hand. He stood there, stunned for a moment, before his lips curled up into that smug smirk you were way too familiar with. 

“Did you just laugh?” 

This was the first time he made you laugh, and you knew he was going to hold it over your head like a vice now. 

You attempted to regain your composure, clearing your throat, but your uneven voice betrayed you. “N-No…I- I coughed.” 

“No, I’m pretty sure I heard a laugh,” he teased. “I finally made you laugh!” 

You took a deep breath and exhaled. Within seconds, the amused expression on your face was replaced with a stoic one. “Whatever you think you heard, you didn’t.” 

The way you could effortlessly turn off your emotions whenever you wanted was an ability he greatly admired. Even to this day, he still had trouble concealing his own emotions from others. He wished it was as easy as you made it look— as if it was second nature to you. 

Maybe it had been…but he was satisfied that at least for a moment, he was able to grant you a brief respite and drop the mask he knew you always wore.

Rosalyne liked to visit when she could. 

As it turned out, she became the only person you could trust in this awful place. When she had to leave you two months ago after your first meeting, you begged her to stay for just a little while longer. 

Surprised by your sudden outburst, she did all she could to calm you down, and she told you that she could not stay… She had to return to Snezhnaya because her work in Fontaine was finished, and the Queen was expecting her return in no more than three days’ time. No matter how many tears you shed, it didn’t make her stay. 

As soon as she left, you were left alone in Arlecchino’s care again, and the real training began. 

First, you were tested on all of your physical aspects: running, climbing, jumping, lifting, running while carrying weights on your back, and stealth. 

Arlechino watched over every single bit of your testing, a clipboard resting in her perfectly manicured hands. Her eyes were akin to that of a hawk as she picked out every flaw and talent. She glanced down at her clipboard as soon as you collapsed from the three mile run she had you take with weights on your back. 

A sigh left her lips. 

Jumping

Climbing

Lifting (weights)

Stealth

Running

Running (with weights) 

Marksmanship

Out of irritation, scribbled another line over ‘running with weights.’ 

She gazed over at your heaving, exhausted form. You were laid sprawled out on the grass, your chest rising and falling in step with your racing heartbeat. You could feel your head throb and your ears ring from the exertion. Your legs felt like jelly and sweat dripped from every pore. The loose clothing you wore stuck to your body, and the scent of musk and freshly cut grass entered your nostrils. 

You stared up at the sky, your mind blank as you watched it contort from brilliant blues to a soft pink and deep orange. Had you spent all afternoon out here? 

Your lungs were burning, and your mouth was dry. As soon as you got your hands on a bottle of water, you knew you were going to chug the whole thing down in three seconds flat. When you returned to the House, you were going to take a nice cold shower and wipe all the grime and sweat off your body. 

Arlecchino let out another stressed sigh. She definitely had her hands full with you. In an overly annoyed voice that she knew you could hear above the ringing in your ears, she shouted, 

“What did I tell you before? Laying down will only hinder your breathing more. Stand up and place your hands on your head to allow your lungs to open up.” 

As she jotted down some notes on her clipboard, she heard you whine and groan in protest. However, you obeyed her without tossing a backhanded comment. She was getting somewhere with you, even if she still couldn’t figure out what it was you were good at. 

Her eyes skimmed over the list again, stopping momentarily on the last bullet-point. She peered up at you again, studying your small build. She hummed thoughtfully before grabbing your attention with a firm “come with me.” 

Back at the House, she allowed you to shower first before leading you down a hallway you only passed by once when you first arrived. At the end of the hallway next to the supply closet was a room with an old wooden door that looked as if it was on its last leg. It let out an obnoxious screech as it creaked open, causing you to cringe. 

She walked inside and you followed behind her as you finished drying your hair with the towel in your hands. It was a decently sized, rectangular room with padding on the walls and lanterns hanging from chains on the ceiling. A row of guns and rifles sat to your left, all of them freshly polished and hidden inside a display case with a lock on it. On the shelf above the case were bullets and all the necessary cleaning supplies for a gun, as well as a jar of earplugs. 

On the far side of the room, just across from where you were standing in the doorway, were targets. All of them were beaten and battered from years of use. To your right were three chairs, all supposedly there for spectators. 

A glass wall separated you from the actual shooting area, with a lone glass door leading into it. One of your older siblings, Amélia, greeted you both from the other side of the glass. She opened the door and smiled warmly. 

“Good evening Father, (Name).” 

Arlecchino nodded curtly. “Amélia, perfect timing. Would you care to teach (Name) the basics of gun use?” 

Amélia was one of the only children in the House who was adept with guns. Her vast knowledge stemmed from the years she spent as the daughter of a champion duelist, before that very same duelist was bested in battle. 

She nodded, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. You watched as she took apart the gun she was previously using and gently set it back in the display case. She reached for another, larger gun and turned around to face you. It was sleek, wood polished over with a clear shine and silver that gleamed under the dim lighting of the room. 

“This is a musket,” she held it up for you to see, “usually, they’re only used in war nowadays. They’re not as popular as they used to be, but the Gardes tend to use them on occasion. We’ll start with this.” 

She handed you a pair of earplugs and guided you into the training area. She positioned you in front of one of the targets and handed you the musket. It felt heavy in your hands, and you struggled to keep a hold on it. 

She helped you, placing a hand on one of yours. “Yep, just like that! Now, you’re gonna take this,” she handed you a paper cartridge, “and you’re gonna tear that end part off.” 

You did as she told you and tore the piece off with your teeth, spitting it out elsewhere. She laughed softly. “You’re a natural already! Now, pour a bit of the powder into this pan…and wipe off the excess. Yep! Now, close the frizzen.” 

She helped you hold up the musket and pointed to the muzzle. “Now take the rest of the powder and pour it down the muzzle. Carefully seat the ball, and ram it with this–” she pulled out the ramrod, “yep– and then put it back. Alrighty! Now, stand here, hold it up so you’re eye-level, and fire!” 

She took her hand off yours and stepped back to allow you some space. You held the butt of the musket to your shoulder and pressed your cheek against it. You weren’t sure what it was exactly…if it was some sort of otherworldly power surging through your veins or if it was adrenaline that accompanied your fast beating heart, but the moment you readied the gun, your world shifted on its axis. It was as if there was something locked away deep inside you that was coming to the forefront, like it was breaking free from whatever cage that was holding it back all this time. 

The rest of the world around you faded away into nothing, leaving you and target alone in a dark plane of existence that was only visible to your sharpened eyesight. Only the target mattered, nothing else. Not the fear of failure swirling around in the back of your mind or the water that slid down your forehead from your wet hair. It slowly, agonizingly, trickled down the bridge of your nose and you rested your finger on the trigger. 

Time seemed to move slowly in those few seconds. It felt as if an entire eternity had passed before you finally pulled the trigger. You barely felt the recoil of the gun as the bullet darted out, but that was the least of your concerns. 

Precision was a lesson Arlecchino taught all of the children in the House, and yet in this moment, when it was a given that the bullseye would be missed, a deep-rooted instinct tucked away inside your heart was screaming at you that it would undoubtedly hit the mark. 

BANG! 

A perfect shot, right in the center. 

It was silent for a few moments as your concentration faded away. You stared, dumbfounded, at the target, before you glanced down at the musket in your hands. 

An eerie clapping drew you out of your stupor, and you turned around to face Arlecchino. She wore a satisfied smile. There was a smugness around her, as if she had also known that you would hit the bullseye. 

Amélia took the musket from you, a look of pure amazement in her eyes as she shook your shoulder. You couldn’t hear what she said above the ringing in your ears from the adrenaline rush you were coming down from, but you could only assume it was words of praise, judging by her excited smile. 

Once she was gone, Arlecchino placed a hand on your shoulder. “We’ve found where your skills lie. Now, it’s time to hone it.” 

A few weeks after your discovery in the shooting range, you received a letter in the mail. One of your brothers, Louis, slammed the door as he rushed inside, carrying the entire House’s mail in his arms. He dropped it onto the coffee table in the common space and plopped onto the ground in front of the lit hearth. 

You sent him a glare. “Some of us are trying to read.” 

He ignored your cold stare and rifled through the mail, separating everything into piles depending on whose name was on the address. Father’s, naturally, had the biggest pile. It was hardly a surprise, as most of her mail was sent directly from Snezhnaya to the House and consisted of hefty amounts of paperwork. 

Louis paused on a strange envelope, his brows raising in utter shock as he called your name. You answered in a mutter, too focused on the crime novel in your hands to worry about what it was that he wanted from you. 

“You have a letter…it’s from a Miss Rosalyne Lohe—” 

You snatched the letter from his hands and abandoned your book on the sofa as you stood up and ripped open the envelope. An elegantly crafted necklace and a letter fell out. You gasped softly at the gorgeous craftsmanship of the necklace. A pristine, golden chain with a cecilia flower carved out of glass and hand-painted dangling from the middle. 

Jewelry of this quality could only be purchased by aristocrats. Never in your life could you ever have the money to purchase something like this— only in your wildest dreams. You didn’t know how long you stood there staring at it in awe with your mouth open, but it must’ve been a few minutes judging by the confused stare on Freminet’s face. 

Freminet was another one of your brothers. He was a few years younger than you, and based on what you learned about him from the loud-mouthed Louis, he had supposedly been here before Arlecchino rose to the position of The Knave. He was a kindhearted boy, if not shy and quiet much like you. You found that although you were content to ignore your other siblings, Freminet was welcome company. 

And just like you, he didn’t excel in most things. When you first asked him what it was that he specialized in, he said, “Nothing, really. I do like diving, though.” 

“Is everything alright?” He questioned. “Amélia says that if you keep your mouth open too long, bugs will fly in.” 

You closed your mouth immediately and turned your attention back to the necklace in your hands. To avoid further disruption, you ran to your room to read the letter Rosalyne had sent you. Sitting down on your bed, you pried the carefully folded parchment open and began to read. 

“(Name), 

The weather in Snezhnaya is tolerable, I suppose, but I would much prefer to be relaxing on a Fontainian beach with a cocktail and a good book in hand while I soak up the Summer sun, instead. 

The Knave has told me you finally found something you excel in. Congratulations! I hope your training is much to be desired. Guns are handy companions if you know how to properly wield them. I never saw the appeal when I can just use my hands, but if a gun is what you desire, then I wish you the best of luck moving forward. 

The Tsaritsa has tasked me with a mission in Mondstadt. Although returning is a burden, I do suppose it’ll be pleasant to take in the scenery once more… Even if the Wind’s influence is practically crawling everywhere. It’s a shame you could not accompany me, but you have your priorities, and I have mine.

I sincerely hope that the next time we meet, you can show me how much you have improved. I will be awaiting results until then. 

As for the next time I step foot in the City of Bards, I hope you are there with me. Until then, take this token I commissioned from the best blacksmith in Mondstadt. I thought it only right to get you a gift. 

Best,

Rosalyne” 

Standing in front of the full length mirror next to your bed, you pushed your hair aside and clasped the necklace around your neck. It sat delicately on your collarbone, and you fiddled with the cecilia flower, feeling all along the crevices and grooves of the finely crafted jewelry. 

An absentminded smile tugged at your lips as you admired it, before a loud yell sounded from the common space. You flinched and let out a sigh. 

Waiting in the common area was Arlecchino, with two children huddled behind her legs. They looked to be about your age, with near matching hair and eyes the color of amethysts. 

You studied them intently, taking in the appearance of the girl first. She had darker, gray hair than what appeared to be her twin brother, and a deeper shade of violet eyes that were a bit sunken in from what looked like exhaustion. She had longer lashes than him, too, and a set of gray cat ears and a swishing tail. Her lips were drawn into a thin line. Her eyes scanned the whole crowd, calculated and piercing. Her shoulders were tense as she kept a firm grip on Arlecchino’s pant leg. 

She reminded you of yourself in a way. 

Meanwhile, her brother had faded blonde hair and striking violet eyes that pierced through your soul when you met his gaze. There were bags under his eyes, just like his sister. He didn’t have any animalistic features, but his pupils were pulled into slits— exactly like a cat’s. There was a certain mischief that laid deeper in his gaze, behind the apparent nervousness that currently shone in them. 

That was enough to tell you that even though he didn’t have the ears and tail to back it up, he had other features that declared how cat-like he was. 

Upon meeting your eyes, his chapped lips pulled up into the slightest of smiles, and his eyes were now shining with a newfound wonder. You returned his smile with one of your own and sent him a small, friendly wave. 

“This is Lyney and Lynette,” Arlecchino announced, placing each of her hands on their heads, “welcome them with open arms.” 

Just like the day you first laid hands on a gun, your whole entire world tilted on its axis, and it was all because of a boy with a cheshire smile.

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[twinflameauwof]

SeaWings - The Vast Tribe of Pyrrhia

SeaWings are not under one kingdom, instead there are three known as the Three Tides Kingdoms. The first kingdom is the Reef Tide Kingdom, the SeaWings there are brighter and smaller, and are more likely to have odd coloring (ie red or orange), Reef SeaWings are said to be friendly and open. The Sea Tide Kingdom is the SeaWing’s we’re used to seeing, these variants have normal coloring and little color differences. The Deep Tide Kingdom is less of a kingdom and more of a settlement of SeaWings that have adapted to higher pressure, they do not have wings, have darker coloring, and are larger than other SeaWings.

Appearance - Traditionally, SeaWings are shades of blue, green and occasionally purple, although Reef Tide SeaWings can be just about any color in any amount. Their limbs are shorter and thicker, their wings are more built for swimming than flying, and they have glowing scales along almost every limb.

Culture - Reef Tide SeaWings are very festive, they often decorate their scales with shells and sea glass, their leader, Hermit, is known to be very wise yet carefree. Sea Tide SeaWings are far more regal and uniform (they could be compared to canon IceWings except a bit less strict). The kingdom is full of cleverly crafted statues, due to the SeaWings often being artistic. Not much is known about the Deep Tide SeaWings, other than they cannot enter shallower waters easily, and that they are far more serpentine than other SeaWings.

Abilities - SeaWings are very powerful and fast swimmers, they can breathe underwater, see in the dark, and have a great sense of smell. They have glowing scales along their body which they can use to communicate, and their tails are powerful enough to create “waves”

The SeaWing queen, Mariana, is very anxious due to news of assassination attempts across other kingdoms, alongside the mysterious death of her own sister, and oftentimes she refuses to leave the Sea Palace and sends ambassadors in her place to any official meetings.

Other lore bits: (may be late to update these are scheduled)

MudWings

RainWings

NightWings

SandWings

IceWings

SkyWings

MistWings

SwiftWings

If you have any questions please let me know!

@escapismartist