#IRDA

[ttrpg-smash-pass-vs]

Irda are "giant" spies made by Tiamat, they're still humanish size so way to fuck that one up. They can double in size, but only for a minute, though they can turn into any other similarly sized humanoid for however long they want. they are skilled spies, and even ones who have broken free of the Dragon Queen spend thier time gathering info to help keep thier villages hidden. EDIT: Irda Seeker is the First, the Irda Veil Keeper is the second one. Irda being the species, the other part being thier role/job. Since we're doing this as a species I kept them together.

[adafruit]

IrDA codec board 🔧📡🕰️

We've been designing all sorts of IR transmitters and receivers for the Adafruit shop lately, and a chance discussion got us thinking about IrDA - an old wireless protocol used in some PDAs, watches, laptops and toys. its not used anymore - bluetooth LE does a way better job - but there's probably some cases where IrDA hacking could be useful such as communicating with retro devices or if you want an RF-less wireless link. here's a board that combines a TFBS4711 transceiver (https://www.digikey.com/short/jn43cz31) with a MCP2112 codec (https://www.digikey.com/short/m8tp3708). you can communicate at 115.2kbps with RX and TX lines just like any UART. 115.2kbps is the standard baudrate. or, provide your own CLK for something like 9600 baud.

[lyrics365]

청춘 (Youth)

uri muneojija amudo eopneun neoleun deulpan wiro gaman nuneul gamgo naui onmomi biro deopil ttaekkaji uri sseureojija padodo eopneun pureun bada wiro gaman sumeul chamgo naui maeumi janjanhaejil ttaekkaji maeileun jiruhande sesangeun honranhae haruga haengbokhan ge neomudo eoryeowo geureotge uldagado seororeul chyeodabogo uteobeoriji urikkirin meoteopneun nega jotdago malhaejuja gomineul haebwado…

[haztory]

[fairytales: fathoms below]

⤷ john price x f!reader; fairytales!au, mermaid!reader, no warnings!

⤷ summary: a series imagining each of the cod men in fantasy/fairytale settings.

(w.c: 3.2k)

captain john price - the little mermaid 

Deep brown oak lays a steady foundation for the billowing ivory cotton. It is a formidable beast, splitting the current with a wicked ferocity that only further emboldens everything your sisters have said in the privacy of hidden corners and muttered breaths. This monster is a fearsome one, its force unparalleled. Something entirely different than what you have seen before.

Mind your distance, your eldest sister had spoken in between the echoing bellows of your father’s rampage as he raged and roared about the increased presence of the fiend in the seas. It is a frightening being. 

Yet, as you peek above the waves to peer at its high fixtures and its grand weight gliding across the water, you’re less inclined to be scared of the vessel and more curious about who could have made such a thing. Your sister’s words and your father’s fear are quickly things of the past, rendered outdated almost instantaneously beneath its shadow.

What could they know about the intent of such a thing with certainty when they themselves have never been as close as this before? If they had, surely they’d feel the same as you do now.

The ship rocks with a force equal to the volume of the men steering it. They are of varying shapes and sizes, loud as they shout at one another along the choppy water. Words you can only catch on whispering winds, syllables and sounds that are completely foreign as you try to repeat them to yourself. A pulse echoes within you, a ferocious beating of your heart that begs you to get closer, to let the curiosity that surges within you seize its grand moment. If only just to see, just to hear. 

It is one thing to see the ancestors of this magnificent watercraft on the seafloor—to play in its cracked beams and chase your sisters through the wreckage, imagining in secret what an image it would be were it fixed and afloat—but it is something entirely different to see the beast alive. 

To see it be tamed, made nothing more than a tool to be beckoned— by him.

He stands commanding on the helm, the gruffness of his voice carrying on the winds, crossing the distances to you. The men follow his calls, responding in time to his orders and moving with preciseness on the vessel, not entirely unlike your father’s guards. They are seasoned, well learned, and they follow him without question. It is truly a sight to behold, but him, he trumps it all. 

His figure is distinguishable even from afar. You’ve been able to make him out even as you trailed a couple hundred kilometers behind, curiosity consuming all reason as you followed the ship past neighboring reefs and exiting well beyond the boundaries of your father’s kingdom. He’s well cut and corded, muscle visible even if the white of his shirt didn’t stick to his skin—wet from the seawater. 

He’s wide in the shoulders, tall and lean, before it tapers down to a narrow waist; His bottom half is obscured by a dark fabric, which must be the object of your father’s frequent cursing. Legs. You’ve never seen them before, much less two of them. 

Still, his… abnormality hardly detracts from the verboten truth—your eye is caught. It hardly deviates from his powerful stance; Your gaze can wander across the bridge of the ship to the working crew, but it ends up inevitably circling back to him. Drawn into the vortex of him, water rushing, pulling and pushing, and the pang of longing that you have long held quiet finds its strength.

It tastes of wonder and the desperation to escape; To leave behind the home that you know, all that has created you, for the realization that there’s more.

You leave behind the ship before you risk the chance of it seeing you, but the appetite of fascination is hardly appeased. It becomes the bad habit. The ships are wondrous things, but you find out rather quickly that when he is at the helm, that is truly when your heart leaps and you trail even closer to its hull, eager for a sight. 

It goes this way for forty rises and sets, your eyes held on the horizon for the familiar sight of the wooden ship’s sigil and its master. 

Today, he is seen on the day of the great storm. 

The sky sits in a violent gray, lightning spreading its branches as they flare across the clouds. The air smells of the impending storm as the seas grow rougher and with it the ship rocks unsteadily—the waves beating against wood, climbing up its ridges higher each time it strikes against its side, as if it were begging to climb aboard. Despite the mayhem, he stays sharp, pointing direction from the helm and eventually leaving it to the charge of someone else when he decides to help directly. Grabbing rope and throwing it around the masts, clapping others on the back, Keep going, boys! shouting from his mouth.

You see it before they do. A crack that widens in the undercarriage of the ship, beaten open as the waves ram against it, water rushing in. You want to shout, tell them to look, but they realize it soon enough. One of the shipmates peers over the edge of the ship before turning back and shouting,

“She’s goin’ to sink, Captain!”

The Captain—finally a name to the face, one that you roll around in your mind as your eyes track his every movement; Captain, captain, captain.— moves quickly, foregoing the lugging of a rope and saying something that forces all men to divert attention elsewhere. It’s a flurry of movement from there, the men gathering supplies, hauling smaller wooden vessels by rope and filling them in a quick frenzy. Abandoning the ship. 

It’s difficult as wind and rain pellet them, obscuring vision and keeping them unsteady as they attempt to save themselves. The first lifeboat hits the sea viciously, the waves almost capsizing the vessel as they meet its surface. You don’t mean to interfere—you know you shouldn’t— but they’re terrified, and risk drowning, and you’re much more worried about them dying than you are yourself, so you swim to them; Grab the bottom of the boat and pull with as much strength as your arms and tail can muster and haul them away from the immediate danger of the turbulent waves split by the sinking ship. 

The pulley breaks when the next boat tries to descend, hitting the surface unceremoniously, but the men make it to the water.  Two wooden boats buoy a safe distance away from the main ship and the crew sits, thankfully, unharmed as they look towards their Captain, beckoning him to jump. He stands at the edge of the great being, a monolith of a man overseeing the wreckage of his great accomplishment. He must be bidding it goodbye, because he then turns, ready to jump, fortified in that decision as he realizes that all of his men are safe and it is now his turn. 

Wind turns threatening and the air ignites with a charge that speaks of impending doom. It is then that lightning strikes the mast, sparking a loud blast. It singes the wooden pillar, immediately exploding it into a shattering of pieces. The detonation’s impact pushes him off the edge, the Captain’s body hurdling over one-hundred feet. 

Your scream is hidden by the shouts of his own men. His body hits the surface of the water, plunging into the depths as the violent waves hurtle him below. 

There is no hesitation, a choice made without conscious thought. You curl beneath the cresting of a wave and immediately sink into the depth in search for him. It is significantly easier to swim beneath the hurtling waves than atop of them, pressure equalizing against your body. You glide within the water, pushing straightforwardly to the spot where his body met water. 

Your heart pounds in fear. Even if you reach him—no, when you reach him— there is no guarantee of his survival. There must be some kind of injury from falling that kind of distance, or so you would imagine. Being sucked into vortexes does all kinds of damage to merfolk, it must be of equal balance for humans. And even if by some miracle he does survive impact, humans cannot breathe under the water like you can. He must have swallowed some water, is that dangerous for him? How much can he swallow? What do you do if he has swallowed too much?

Thoughts hurtle and tumble in fast succession, but your body moves faster. Crossing the distance between your position next to the lifeboats to the spot of impact at a speed that has never before been demanded of you. Your lungs burning, your mind aching, your heart hurting with worry for a man that you do not yet know. A man that, for all you have been told, could kill you. A man whose kind has hunted yours down for sport, strung your people up for decoration. 

You should not care for this man, have been warned not to, and yet the relief you feel when you find him are the blessings from the forces of the heavens and earth. 

He’s sinking, unconsciously. His eyes closed, body suspended to the whims of the tides as they pull him down. Nearing him reveals that he is much larger than you had anticipated but it means nothing in the rapid pump of adrenaline. Hooking your arms underneath his, his back to your chest, you haul with great might. Lugging his weight with a grunt to the surface, just to get him to breathe again. 

Breaching the surface exposes you to the pellets of the ferocious rain, but it matters not. Your eyes set for direction, your head turning frantically in search of a marker, a sight, something to reveal where you are— where you can take him for safety. The lifeboats have been taken far away by the tumbling tides and the ship that was once so marvelous now roars with a fire aboard its surface. 

You have no idea where to go. You have no idea what to do. 

But the Captain is held tightly in your arms, his head rolling lifelessly on your shoulder. A quick placement of your fingers on his neck reveals a pulsing heart and while it hardly solves any of your problems, it’s all you need to do as you have always done and swim. Somewhere, anywhere. 

So, you do. 

South, in search of sanctuary.

It comes faster than you had thought it would. The shallowing of waters after an hour long haul of both he and you bleeds a hope in your soul that pushed you forward until it came into sight. A cove. Away from the large strip of land that surrounds it, remote enough to deposit him without being seen, but close enough to civilization for him to find a way home. Wherever home may be for him.

Your body is exhausted, the muscles in your tail cramping and spasming from the sheer burden of his weight on yours but you don’t stop. Even as you can touch sand with your hands, even as the movement of waves can carry you the distance to the shore— you don’t stop until he is safe. On land. 

Hauling him out of the water and onto the flattening surface of the beach is surely the worst part. Dragging him a safe distance from the water that was able to ease the pressure of his full weight on you to now being on the surface where his body seems to weigh even more, your arms trembling from trying to pull him further up on the coast, is misery. But you do it, with some herculean effort that has never been introduced to you before. 

He lays on land, supine on his back, finally safe. The rain has stopped, the sky turning from the harsh gray of before to a smattering of thickened clouds that finally allow the sun to bleed through. 

You fall beside him in exhaustion. Ragged breaths heaving your chest, your tail grateful for the much needed rest. The swim home will be significantly easier (and faster) without the man in your arms, but such a trek is daunting when physical debility renders you useless. 

But you must go, before he sees you. You have done what you needed to, you have brought him to land, and while you don’t know how to save him, or if you need to, you know his heart still beats. And that is enough to make a job well done. Rather, it should be enough to grant you dismissal.

And yet, you linger. Unable to part, waiting. Watching. You shouldn’t, and still you cannot help yourself. 

You sit up and lean over him, curious to spare him another look. 

Laid beneath you, the truth repeats like a broken mantra in your head. It is a sin of the highest offense to touch him. Being near him like this is a crime itself. But, there is an ache in your fingers that urges you forward and the desire to know eats away at you, until you blink and suddenly, your fingers are tracing the length of his strong nose.

A straight bridge, freckled with color. Your fingers move in a fixed trance, trailing across the soft of his cheek until it reaches the jagged meeting line where skin becomes obscured with hair. You feel the coarseness of his beard, trace the pads of your fingertips down the thick and long hairs. The men at home have hair on their faces, your own father does, but it doesn’t feel like this. So coarse, so rough, prickling against the tips of your fingers. Not made silk by the submergence in water, but thick and apparent. 

You don’t dislike it. At least, you don’t think you do, your fingers smoothing down the expanse of his cheek. Up and down, over and over. Feeling the vitality of this human life.  

You don’t feel the same repulsion that your father does whenever mention of the humans is made near him, nor do you feel the same fear that your sisters have at the mere thought of them. You’re drawn closer, if anything. Curious to know more. 

Wondering what would happen if he opened his eyes.

He has a nose, two ears, and a gentle prodding of his lips reveals a full set of teeth. They’re not sharpened in fangs ready to rip your throat (a rumor circulating through the schools of children) nor are they laid in multiple jagged rows (a preach hailed truth by your father). Instead, just a set of hard bones, the same as yours. He has two eyes that you don’t dare try and see the color of, and a full head of thick brown hair.

For all intents and purposes, he looks like you. The same features, the same design.

Your fingers trail downward, below the thick of his beard and down the column of his strong neck. His shirt is soaked and stuck to his skin, stretched to reveal even more tufts of thick hair on his chest. That is new to you. The men at home don’t have hair on their chest much less a kind so thick. They’re smooth, and if you thread your fingers through it in wonder, it will be a secret you take back to the sea with you.

Maybe the gods made you more similar than different. From where you sit beside him, the only obvious difference lies below. Two long limbs that hold flat appendages at the end. Feet, separated with what you can only imagine are toes. Ten of them on each one. 

Maybe in his creation there was an image of you. A curiosity that was sated by the division of a tail into legs, but otherwise remains the same. Two beings sent to their respective homes and yet destined to intertwine. It must be, otherwise these unexplainable feelings that brew within you have no source other than sheer madness. 

A kind of madness that finds you sitting beside him, staring in lingering awe at the marvels of danger.

You don’t know how long you stay there for, trailing your fingers over him. Finding them studying the feel of his skin and somehow always returning back to his neck, feeling the pulsing of his heart as reassurance. But, a long look to the horizon reveals that the sun is beginning to set and you know then that much time has passed. The sky turns to a burnt orange and the warning to return home beats within your mind. It is unwanted, but you know that you can no longer stay here with the man. Soon your father will suspect something amiss and send guards to find you. While you don’t doubt the capabilities of the human, there’s no guarantee he will be able to defend himself against the royal guards of the palace, especially in his weakened state. (There is no telling what he could do to you if he awakens in this state.)  

So you will leave him with the hope that he will wake soon, that he will recuperate enough to pull himself from the sand and walk the short distance back to the mainland. That your efforts were timely and he is able to make his way home. 

You will leave him and hope that maybe, he will come back to the cove in search of you. You will leave him and hope that maybe he will see you waiting for him in the water.

With a sigh, you turn your head back to his face. To look at him once more before you go.

Eyes as blue as the sea you pulled him from, meet yours. You gasp, jolting backwards in shock and he—the Captain, alive and awake— blinks slowly.

“You’re real.” He croaks, his voice hoarse. It still holds the same gruffness that you heard on the ship, the commandeering tone and hefty weight, but in the closeness it is twinged with gentleness. No longer addressing men at his command, but you. A softness mirrored in tone and gaze as he, for the first time, sees you. 

His hand reaches up and you hold still in fear. The conditioning of your father’s paranoia rears its head; Is this where his strength is exhibited? In the calloused palm of his that is larger

than your own? Is this where he decides to lay waste to you in a manner your father is so convinced that humans possess? 

Instead, his hand raises to your face, fingertips slowly brushing a fallen strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ear. His touch is light on your skin, brushing against the curve of your ear before trailing downward and across your cheek. Warm and soft, he stares a seriousness into you as though the only thing he intends to do in that moment is commit you to memory. 

You fall into his touch with little convincing. His skin melding to your own, as though it were meant to be there. 

“I thought you a dream.” 

You shake your head slightly. His eyes dart across your face before moving downward. Surveying you before spotting the obvious truth.

“Mermaid.” He chokes out, in reverence. His stare does not falter and his face does not scrunch upward in disgust. He looks at you much like you have always looked at him. 

Adoration disguised in the innocence of curiosity. 

“You saved me,” He says. “Thank you.”

a.n: i blame my visit to disney world for this idea. the thoughts of john price soaking wet is irresistible, and i aint sorry for it!!

simon is next :)

[lordrandreaming]

Recent art! 💙✨

Would you believe me when I said I haven't drawn in weeks? Because I haven't! I've been sitting on a big fat artblock for awhile now, but finally I managed to break away from it!

Rambling under the cut (plus bonus art of Irdas) because I just have so much to say >3<

With the Witcher resurfacing in my life, I decided to give a little love to my Aen Seidhe boys! Irdas and Vehann! I have not shared Irdas, but Vehann has a digital painting I did of him earlier this year on my blog!

Truthfully, Irdas has been around about as long as Vehann (maybe a little less, since Vehann came first!) But I never figured out anything beyond a headshot of when he was younger! A couple days ago, after doing the young Scoia'tael Vehann, I finally sat down, lined over, and colored Irdas! After 4 years of being dormant in my brain, he deserved some spotlight.

It's a 2020 sketch that I didn't sign because I felt like it's a little trashy compared to what I usually make x'3 then again! Old drawing vs new skills = odd results. So no wonder I'm not happy with it! (Plus I couldn't remember what I wanted to do with him exactly oop)

Today, I was itching to draw Irdas again. Scratching the itch, I made the quarter body you see up next to Vehann! :3

As you can see, he's only got his right arm. Story for another time~ if I think anyone cares enough to want to know more about my silly bastards anyway.

Anywho- I hope to be sketching out those Messmer requests tonight because I've been absorbing Elden Ring all over again! It's good to take a momentary break from one fandom, to reindulge in another! I don't like burning myself out on a fandom, so I try to balance out the obsessions yknow?

[uorufein]

perrin is not a clanleader descendant please get well soon <3

[seiwas]

SEL

ARE WE COD MOOTS NOW TOO????? I MUST YELL ABOUT COD

IRDA. the way i GASPED seeing u write for cod OH MYG OD. it felt like i was blessed by god LMAO

COD??!? YES. YES WE ARE. YELL SOME MORE. I AM LISTENING 👂👂👂

[insurancesamadhan0]

IRDA Insurance Complaint | Resolve Issues with Insurance Samadhan

File your IRDA insurance complaint easily with Insurance Samadhan. Get expert help to resolve claim issues quickly and effectively. Contact us today!

https://www.insurancesamadhan.com/blog/navigating-the-complaint-process-with-irdai-steps-to-seek-redressal/

[sonalj]

What is IRDA: Meaning, Functions, and Role Explained

What is IRDAI? Meaning & Functions of IRDA The Insurance Regulatory and Development Authority of India (IRDAI) is an autonomous statutory body established in 1999 to regulate and develop the Indian insurance sector.

[securenow]

IRDA’s latest circular clarifies common claim issues faced by policyholders, offering better protection and clearer guidelines. According to the prescribed IRDAI guidelines, the insurance company is required to collect the phone number and email id of the policyholder when the policy is bought and also update the same in the course of the policy. These details are voluntary on the part of the policyholder, but if the details have been furnished, the company needs to keep it safe and confidential, so that there is no possible misuse of the same.

[personal-finance8]

What is Claim Settlement Ratio?

Claim Settlement Ratio (CSR) is a crucial metric used in the insurance industry to evaluate the performance of insurance companies in settling claims. It represents the percentage of claims settled by an insurance company against the total number of claims received during a specific period, usually within a financial year. The formula for calculating Claim Settlement Ratio is:

Claim Settlement Ratio=Number of Claims Settled/Total Number of Claims Received×100%

Claim Settlement Ratio=Total Number of Claims Received/Number of Claims Settled×100%

A higher Claim Settlement Ratio indicates that the insurance company is more efficient and reliable in processing and settling claims. It signifies the insurer's ability to honor the policyholder's claims promptly and fairly. A low CSR may indicate potential issues such as delays or denials in claim settlements, which could affect the reputation and trustworthiness of the insurance company.

It's essential to consider other factors along with CSR when evaluating an insurance company, such as customer service, product offerings, financial stability, and overall reputation.

[lyrics365]

바다 (Sea)

kkeuti boiji andeon ne badaneun tteonagago ije naege nameun geon umjikiji anneun bae han cheokgwa noppun dalri bangbeopi eopeo naneun gamanhi ana dasi muli chaoreul ttaekkaji neol gidaryeo geureotge heulreogan sigani naegen jeonhyeo akkapjiga ango barami bandaero buneun ttae nan dasi miso jitne banjjakineun morael yeokeo ne mokgeolireul mandeulmyeon maeil bam sarajigon ttodasi nal…

[syamsulrozy]

Dan tetesan airmata kebodohan kala itu mengajarkanku mencintai seseorang itu tidak perlu berlebihan cukup sampaikan ingin mu pada tuhan dengan langit kan doa dimalam hari , sambil di iringi sedikit usaha

[haztory]

irda's masterlist <3

tags and tagging: you can find most of the works related to a character under the appropriate pairing name of “character x reader” or of “fandom x reader”.

for all things related to writing, they can be found under “my writing” or “my fics”. these will usually encompass everything from fics to drabbles to regular asks. (I’m too lazy to develop a complex system)

“*” indicates sexual content; timestamps are drabbles

the pitt

jack abbot:

ask me and i'm there (series)

genshin

diluc ragnvindir:

a matter of principles

my hero academia

katsuki bakugou:

aphrodite drabble

call of duty

simon "ghost" riley:

commitments*

john price:

fairytales: fathoms below

john in a relationship (blurb)

johnny "soap" mactavish:

rain, for good luck.

haikyuu!

iwaizumi hajime:

of fangirls and milkbread (series)

kuroo tetsurou:

river of styx

cherry wine

red suits, red hearts, red ledgers* (series)

miya atsumu:

'sex' by the 1975*

[5:36]

je te laisserai des mots

oikawa toru:

[5:39]*

kageyama tobio:

and they call it, puppy love

hanamaki takahiro:

[11:41]

sawamura daichi:

unnamed boxing!au

attack on titan

erwin smith:

the secret life of daydreams

jujutsu kaisen

itadori yuuji: 

to tame a god

nanami kento:

the silence of this process

“nice tits”

marvel

steve rogers:

saturday night.

tired.

frank castle:

birdy.

dawn.

heroes.

“Do it. I dare you.” (blurb)

“Okay, it was me…so?” (blurb)

“Quit staring! They’ll notice us!” (blurb)

hurricane.

forgiveness.

matt murdock:

don’t think twice, it’s alright.