#Fractional flow reserve | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year

Text

Bluebird — Part IV — (Azriel x Reader)

Hey! Here’s Part IIII to this! Thank you for being lovely about it. 💕

Warnings: None for this part!

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Your fingers danced across the piano keys with a mind entirely of their own.

Sheet music sat before you, but you didn’t need to glance at it. This was pure muscle memory. Your favourite piece, memorised note by note. Playing it always felt like breathing for the first time.

Arrival of the Bluebird, it was called. You couldn’t help smiling as you played.

The notes climbed and fell in their flawless way, always like the calming ebb and flow of a tide. You soaked it in, your eyes closed, your skin prickling at the music caressing you—

A soft rustle sounded behind you. A rude awakening.

Two thoughts struck you at that moment.

The first — that you’d never played for anyone but yourself. To have a spectator felt like parading naked through the village.

And the second — that said spectator was, bizarrely, of the same ilk that you had been raised to detest.

A shadow moved in your periphery, and your fingers fell still, the music coming to an abrupt stop.

The creature — Azriel — loomed at your side, his gaze intent on where your hands had sat.

“Beautiful.” He murmured softly. “You play so flawlessly.”

It seemed so, so strange, so wrong, to sit and chat casually with a creature of such bloodshed. Like the tune had washed over you and made you truly aware of the situation. Of the action you’d taken.

You’d let him into your home.

You’d helped him when he’d been more or less incapacitated. When you probably had the advantage to strike and make a killing blow. To rid the world of one of its demons.

And now you were playing music for him. Had he…had he enchanted you, somehow? Some faerie magic, perhaps, that put you at such ease? That made you forget who you were alone in a building with?

Your body was taut as a bowstring as you slowly swivelled on the stool to face him. And his beauty struck you speechless again.

He offered you a smile. One that was small and reserved, and yet held such devastating charm. You quickly forced your eyes away.

“Who taught you to play?” He asked softly.

Your hands twisted around each other as you answered, “I taught myself.”

“Entirely by yourself?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Some people can’t reach such skill even with honed, esteemed pianists to master them. It must be in your blood.”

You’d always thought so. The piano had been here your entire life — your fingers had inched towards it for as long as you could remember.

“I’m told my mother used to play.” You said. That sore spot in your heart stung at the mere mention of the parent you’d never known. “The piano used to be out in the bar area. My father told me that she used to play every night, and people would flock to the inn just to listen.”

There was a heavy, unmissable pause. You were sure you noticed Azriel’s shoulders stiffening out of the corner of your eye.

“Used to?” He asked quietly. “Is she…is she no longer alive?”

You turned your gaze on him, sure it appeared as blazing as you felt. “I never knew her. She was murdered. By your kind.”

“By my kind?”

“By a group of High Fae.”

Another pause. Azriel’s head dipped a fraction, his eyes lowering to the ground.

“That’s awful.” His voice was soft. Unbearably gentle. “I’m truly sorry that you suffered such a loss. However…I’m not High Fae.”

The declaration was enough for you to narrow your gaze on him. He certainly looked High Fae; you were sure there wasn’t a human in the world who carried such flawless beauty, nor the preternatural stillness that only a honed, immortal being could master.

Azriel smiled wryly, like he knew you were searching for some physical evidence of what he’d said. He turned his head to the side, his fingers moving up to brush the shell of his ear.

A very rounded ear. No pointed tip.

“I hail from a warrior-race of the fae called Illyrians.” He explained. “We’re fae, but…certainly not High Fae.”

You stared at him.

At those rounded ears. The scarred fingers.

As if not being High Fae somehow erased all that had been done.

It didn’t.

You shrugged rather brusquely. “Makes no difference to me. Aren’t all fae the same, with a history steeped in violence? I hate violence.”

“…Blood has been spilled on both sides of the Wall—”

“I hate it.” You cut him off. “Too many people resort to violence needlessly. I see it every single night working in this place. And for fragile humans like ourselves, all it can take is one strike to finish a person off. I wish people — human and Fae — thought more before deciding violence as their route. Perhaps if they did, I wouldn’t have grown up without a mother.”

It was the most you’d said to Azriel in one breath. And you waited for his defensiveness, for him to tell you your thoughts were somehow wrong.

But he simply stared at you, an unreadable expression on his face. And his response wasn’t what you anticipated.

“You’re not wrong.” His voice was like wrapping yourself in silk. “I’m sorry you’ve seen such violence. I’m glad you have music to escape to, at least.”

You stared back at him, your thoughts emptying for a moment. You willed yourself not to be intimidated by the beauty; by the deadliness of it. He could probably snuff out your life without anyone hearing so much as a squeak from you—

“Are you going to kill me now?” You blurted, rather pathetically.

Azriel’s steeled face twitched just slightly; the only reaction to your question.

It surprised you as he retreated a step. Put more distance between you.

“Why are you so convinced that I want to kill you?” He asked quietly.

“Am I supposed to believe it a coincidence that a Fae male begins appearing in these parts at the same time that the girls in this village are being murdered?”

His brow furrowed. “Girls are being murdered?”

“Yes. The Village Guards have found them brutally slain, and then you appear. If I’m to be next, I’d really appreciate it if you don’t leave me to be found by my father in that condition.”

“I haven’t killed anyone in this village, and I’m not going to kill you.”

His words should have reassured you. But you honed in on the sentence. Saw it for what it was.

He hadn’t killed anyone in this village.

But he’d killed elsewhere.

Bile rose up in your throat as you stared at him. And as he studied your fearful expression, he sighed. Looked away.

“What I told you was true. I was passing by, and I heard your music, and I wanted to hear more. But I don’t wish to frighten you.” He retreated another step. “Perhaps I should go—”

He was cut off by a thump so abrupt, it had you jumping out of your skin. Azriel quickly looked up.

Another thump, followed by a third.

“It’s the door.” You quickly stood, brushing yourself down. “I should answer.”

He pressed himself against the wall as you brushed past him, hurrying through to unlock the front door. You pulled it open a fraction, narrowing your eyes at the darkened figure on your doorstep.

Kiall. He looked…wired. Stimulated. But he didn’t stink of booze, for once.

“I’m sorry about the music.” You said before he could speak. “I didn’t realise how late it had got—”

“I’m not here about your little piano.” The older, scruffy male looked around feverishly. “I shot one down. A Fae. That fucking winged bastard from the alley. Got him right through those wings. He was flying above the village and I got him.”

You swallowed. Pulled the door a little closer to you. If Kiall — or anyone — knew that you had a Fae in your home, you’d be done for. Probably killed right alongside him.

Unless, of course, you gave him up. Disabled him somehow and turned him over to the Village Guards. Perhaps those ash arrows, still lying in the puddle of his blood, could still be of some use—

“Where is the Fae now?” You blurted, blocking Kiall’s minuscule glimpse into your home. “Have the Guards dealt with him?”

“No.” Kiall sneered. “He got away someplace. Probably bleeding out somewhere nearby. I wanted to know if you’d seen or heard anything.”

This was your chance.

Kiall could help you.

Azriel had regained most of his strength, but he’d been caught unaware once already. Surely the two of you could deal with him.

And then you’d never have to worry about him hanging around here again. Watching you. Watching and—

And listening to your music.

If he was to be believed…that was all he’d lingered for.

You didn’t really know why you did it. It probably made you an utter fool. But you swallowed and schooled your expression, shaking your head.

“I didn’t see or hear anything.” You lied. “Like I said — I was playing music.”

Kiall studied you for a moment. And you wondered if, perhaps, the untruth lay blatantly on your face, in your eyes. The Bluebird Inn — your family business and home — was the hub of this little community. Everybody knew you. Everybody knew that you were the daughter of the Fae-hating innkeeper, and the woman who had been murdered by their kind. That you were raised to hate them just as fiercely.

To have one right here, in these very walls…to have helped him, and to now protect him…

You had utterly, utterly lost your mind. But you let none of that show.

“If I see or hear anything suspicious, I’ll report it right away.” You said.

Kiall eyeballed you again. “You do that, Y/N.”

“I will. I’m going to go to bed now.”

“Be sure to lock your doors. Don’t want to end up like those other village girls.”

A shiver ran down your back. But you nodded. “I will.” You repeated. “Thank you.”

Kiall had always been a strange person. His reputation for being a drunk was known from one end of the village to the other. But being the one who served him most of those drinks, you saw something more. An ever-present, crazed look in his eye, like he was always on alert, always ready — and happy — to attack. Many of the brawls in the tavern had been started by him over nothing.

That crazed look stayed trained on you, now, as he slowly backed away from your front door. And when a good distance was between you, you pushed it firmly shut. Locked and deadbolted it. Released a long, deep breath.

You slumped against the door, blinking forward.

You’d lied. You’d actually lied. All those years of your father telling you what to do if you came face-to-face with a Fae, and what had you done? Played him music.

And then protected him from the wrath of other villagers.

Maybe you were the crazed one. Maybe—

Soft footsteps thudded against the floor. You looked up as Azriel slowly approached, keeping a great distance away. He studied you unsurely; you had no doubt that he’d heard every word. That he knew what you’d done.

“Are you alright?” His voice was so gentle, so quiet; something you knew no human voice could ever master.

Are you alright? When was the last time anyone had asked you that?—

You knew precisely when. When Azriel had stepped in and protected you from Kiall’s drunken ranting in the alley.

You stared up at him — those hazel eyes — and wondered why. Why he seemed to care.

And why it made you feel good.

“I’m alright.” You eventually answered, pushing to your feet. “You should…probably go, though.”

He dipped his chin. “Thank you — for what you did just then. And for pulling those arrows out. And for sharing your beautiful music.”

Your beautiful music. The words almost knocked you breathless.

To hear someone appreciate it so freely—

That, you told yourself, was why you asked, “Will you come back and listen again?”

You could have sworn Azriel’s lips twitched. “I’d certainly like to.”

Insane. This entire thing was insane. You with a Fae in your house, engaging in pleasant conversation. You more or less inviting him back.

But you couldn’t stop yourself.

You dipped your head, staring at the floor. “Will it be safe? Flying, I mean — with the injuries. And with Kiall still snooping around.”

“I have enough strength to get home without flying, now.” Azriel nodded. “I’ll be alright. And what of you?”

“What of me?”

“Will you be alright?”

Yes? No? You weren’t sure. Possibly not. You weren’t entirely convinced that you wouldn’t collapse under the entire, bizarre weight of the night’s events. You were in need of a stiff drink yourself.

But you nodded, all the same. “I’ll be alright.”

A moment passed of nothing. No sound, no movement. Neither of you took a step forward or back.

But then Azriel inclined his head. “Goodnight, then. Sleep well.”

“You—”

Before your very eyes — before you could complete your sentence — he disappeared into thin air. You blinked at the space that he’d vacated. And at the words you knew you were about to speak.

You sleep well, too.

Well-wishes to a Fae. You almost laughed at yourself.

But as you stepped past the spot in which Azriel had stood, you paused at the scent that lingered. And inhaled.

A scent like…like fresh, undisturbed snow. Frosty nights and cedarwood.

It was calming. Soothing. You felt it wash over you, like a blanket of security.

You stood there for a moment longer, and then made your way into the bar area to clean up. And fix yourself that drink.

And you found yourself continuously glancing out of the window. Wondering if Azriel truly would come back.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel didn’t consider the fact that he looked a little worse for wear.

That blood still stained his wings, his clothes, his skin.

That his hair made him appear like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. That he looked as though he could use at least three weeks’ worth of sleep.

Honed spymaster, indeed.

He traipsed into Rhysand’s office. The High Lord immediately sat up in his chair, relief filling his eyes.

“Don’t go quiet on me like that, asshole.” He admonished. “I couldn’t reach you.”

“Sorry.” Az winced slightly as he lowered himself into his chair; the wings were still a little sore. “Took a couple of ash arrows to the wings.”

Rhys stared back at him. “So it’s true, then. The humans are trying to rise up against us.”

“A whole group of them are travelling from village to village, spreading the word of their cause and trying to rally forces. They’re serious about this.”

Rhys slumped back, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Why now, though?”

Slowly, Azriel shook his head. “I think they’re using a whole number of reasons to justify it to themselves. They’re incensed about the land we have, the lives we live…a bunch of things. But…there have been attacks in one village. A few women have been slain. I think the Village Guards are spreading the word that they’re Fae attacks.”

“And do you believe them to be?”

“Not sure. I’d have to investigate it further.”

Rhys firmly shook his head. “I don’t want you going near those villages again for the time being. Not if they’ve got ash arrows in their arsenal.”

Azriel sat up. Tried not to wince. “The bastard had no more than two—”

“I’m not risking anything until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. We wait to see what move they make next; it could all just be talk, and I’m not risking you for some human gossip. I want you here, alerting the other courts that we may have an issue on our hands. Understood?”

Azriel’s jaw clenched. Yes, he understood. He understood his High Lord’s order perfectly well, but he didn’t have to like it. He wanted to go back to the village, ash arrows or no ash arrows. He wanted to hear the music again, to talk to Y/N again—

“Understood, Azriel?” Rhysand repeated.

“Yes.” The shadowsinger gritted out. “Understood.”

“Good.” Just like that, Rhys was shucking off his title; sitting back and becoming a brother again. His face softened. “Go get some rest. You need it.”

Azriel stood without a word, dragging his feet from the room.

He wouldn’t disobey Rhys’s orders.

But Cauldron fucking boil him, something nagged at him to do exactly that.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *

Weeks passed. And there was no dark, passing figure in the skies. No booming clap of wings.

And your disappointment at Azriel’s absence frightened you far more than his presence ever had.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

azriel tag list: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @emturtles @lostpirateinwonderland @kammsinn

455 notes · View notes

no-mercy-bby · 2 years

Note

Would love to request an x reader with Ralph during their wedding. I know that boy would have tap shoes on at the reception lol

OMIGOSH YEAH HE WOULD

[Marriage, fluff, not proofread: it's 1 am people]

Please

The ceremony had just finished. Your dark colored lipstick was still smudged across Ralph's grinning lips as he led you out of the church.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look today, darling?" Ralph drawls flirtatiously after exiting the church while leaning in towards you. You giggle softly, and turn your face towards him as you readjust your hold on his arm.

"You might have mentioned it, love." You smile brightly at him, as you squeeze his arm closer to yourself. The air had started to cool, and the wind was starting to pick up, causing your long veil to swirl a dance behind you. Making a noise of surprise, you reach back with your free hand to grab a handful of the flowing white fabric to keep it flying off of your head; despite all the pins that were supposed to be securing it down.

"Here let me, my love." Ralph murmurs, his fingers already carefully plucking hair pins from your hair. Ralph's tongue pokes out the corner of his mouth as he concentrates, and you can't help but admire him.

"There, we needn't worry anymore about your veil running away." Ralph jests, pecking your forehead with a tender kiss as he bundles up said veil under his arm.

"Thank you," You bite back your grin at his doting nature, affectionately brushing your nose against his, "My husband."

Ralph's cheeks turn rosy as his warm eyes gaze into yours, and his free hand moves to hold yours.

"My wife," Ralph charms with a grin you could only describe as lovesick before chastely kissing you sweetly, " Let's go, shall we?"

"We shall." You hum agreeably, then Ralph leads you across the street to the restaurant that was reserved for your reception.

It was then after he held the door open to the restaurant that you were finally able to sigh out your nerves. Not that you were nervous about marrying Ralph of course, but rather that having over a hundred of both of your families and closest friends witness you swept up in a rather passionate kiss. It was all water under the bridge now, seeing as your wedding cake was almost taller than you.

"Come on, darling." Ralph chuckles quietly, pulling on you down the narrow hall which lead to the kitchen but also the powder room.

It was there you both had stashed a few of your belongings in the cupboard under the sink. You swapped out your short heels for a more suitable pair of flats, considering dancing all night in heels would certainly lead to aches. The clutch with your makeup was also there, since you had placed it there beforehand, and you take a few moments or maybe minutes to freshen up your makeup. When you reapply your lipstick you remember how it was still smudged across Ralph's lips earlier, so you grab a water cloth and carefully soak some water into it.

Turning to Ralph at your side, you notice he was kneeling as he tied his shoes, but not the ones he was wearing during your wedding ceremony.

"My love," You start but you can't help not smiling as Ralph stands up, familiar tapping noise and all," Are you wearing a new pair of tap shoes?"

"Yes! It's the big day, innit? When I saw them it made me think of when we first met, so I had to have them darling." Ralph's fondness for you had poured into his voice like honey, and you don't even try to stop yourself as you kiss him lovingly.

Ralph's grin oozes off lips and onto yours as you both move your lips in a rather heated tango. His hand travels to cradle the back of you neck, his thumbs caressing the edge of your jaw, pulling you closer and closer still. When you both part fractionally to greedily inhale air, you admire the sight of Ralph's lips now more smudged with your dark lipstick.

"Mmm, you've got a little something here," You hum as you eye his lips before quickly catching them with your own," And here..."

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Wedding cake my beloved

#ralph timewasters x reader #ralph timewasters #ralph x reader #timewasters #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn imagine #mmm i hate tagging these #i wrote da #i feel like this one is real bad so sorry

720 notes · View notes

cnnmairoll · 9 months

Note

hello Mai!!! i hope you're having a lovely day <3

i was wondering if i could humbly request a Blade x reader, where the reader is having a hard time due to challenging life circumstances and is incredibly stressed because of it, but is constantly putting on a brave face for Blade? i imagine he probably has an idea that something is amiss with the reader, but is too reserved to actually approach them about it until they finally break down when everything becomes too much </3

take your time with this!! i can't wait to see what you produce!! <3

Bearing the Burden

Pairing : Blade x Reader Genre : Hurt/Comfort a/n : Sure thing Eli! Glad to see you back on tumblr, hopefully this met your expectations since I don't really know how to write blade (；´∀｀) Hope you're doing okay btw !!

You never thought you'd find solace in the most unlikely place - the heart of Blade, the enigmatic and emotionally repressed warrior. Life had thrown its worst at you, and you were drowning in a sea of troubles. But in Blade's presence, you found a sanctuary from the storm, even though you couldn't put a name to what was brewing beneath the surface.

Your days were a blur of trials and tribulations. Every morning, you'd summon a smile that masked the turmoil within. You didn't want Blade to worry; he already carried a heavy burden.

One day, while you both trained together, Blade's intense gaze caught you off guard. He stopped mid-swing, his sword poised in the air, and said, "You seem different lately, more distant. Is everything alright?"

You hesitated, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm fine, Blade. Just a little tired, that's all."

He nodded, but the concern in his eyes lingered.

As days turned into weeks, the weight of your secrets grew heavier. You continued to endure, never letting your façade slip. Blade's subtle attempts to reach out went unnoticed or unacknowledged, and the walls around your heart thickened.

After another grueling training session, you found yourself patching up Blade's wounds. Your hands worked with skill and care, a testament to your dedication. But the silence weighed heavy on both of you.

Finally, Blade broke it. "You've been awfully quiet lately."

You couldn't avoid the question this time. "It's just…life has been throwing a lot at me, Blade. It's hard to keep up sometimes."

Blade turned his gaze toward you, his eyes probing but kind. "You don't have to bear it all alone, you know."

You looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time in weeks. "I didn't want to burden you with my problems. You've got enough on your plate."

A rare smile tugged at the corners of Blade's lips. "We all have our demons, even me. Sharing the load makes it lighter."

In the following days, Blade continued to offer his support, even if it was through small gestures. He'd make sure you had an extra meal, or he'd simply sit beside you during your moments of quiet contemplation.

One moonless night, you found yourself sitting alone by the river, tears streaming down your face, lost in the abyss of your thoughts. The world felt like a cruel place, and you didn't know how much longer you could bear it.

Then, Blade appeared, as silent as the night itself, and sat beside you. He didn't say a word, but his presence was a lifeline in the dark.

You couldn't hold back anymore. Your voice trembled as you confessed, "Blade, I'm not as strong as I pretend to be. Life has been tearing me apart, and I can't keep up this act."

His stern façade melted, revealing the depths of his concern. He might not have been skilled in comforting words, but he tried. "I'm not good at this, but I'll listen. You're not alone."

Tears fell freely now as you let your emotions flow. Blade didn't have all the answers, but he was there, offering the one thing you needed most - someone who cared, someone who tried.

In that moment, the unbreakable warrior became your refuge. The darkness lifted, just a fraction, as you realized you didn't have to face your demons alone.

He may not have been the best at comforting, but his presence was enough. Together, you faced the trials of life, knowing that you had each other to lean on.

And in the embrace of Blade's quiet strength, you found the comfort and courage to face each new day, no matter how challenging it might be.

#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ mai writes #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade #blade hsr #honkai star rail blade #blade x reader #hsr blade

86 notes · View notes

theravenclawgirl7 · 2 months

Text

You Won't Ever Get Over It, and That's Okay

Ellie is grieving and her girlfriend, Violet, comforts her.

(I wrote this a while ago for Ao3 but I thought I would post it here too! My Ao3 is writeaboutit is you want to check it out <3)

word count: 1.9k

The opening of the bedroom door caused a humid breeze to flow into the room from the open window, rousing Violet from sleep. The thin sheet was bunched down at the end of the bed and she was lying on her stomach, arms propped under her head and pillow.

The summer heat was brutal this year. Seven days had reached over a hundred degrees this month and they were only fifteen days into August. It made patrol awful. Everyone was vying for the night shifts now.

She could not wait for autumn when sleeping with the widow open would actually do something to regulate the temperature in the house not just circulate the stagnate, muggy air.

Heavy footfalls sounded across the room before coming to a stop on the other side of the bed; Ellie’s side. Though awake, Violet hadn’t made any move to make Ellie aware of that fact yet. The sound of objects being set on the rickety bedside table that Violet has painted flowers on the drawer echoed throughout the room; probably her gun and walkman.

The mattress dipped behind Violet before she heard her sigh. A sound she knew all too well and dreaded every time the woman she loved made it. That particular sigh is not the one she makes after a long day of work patrolling the gates.

No, this sound is reserved for when she’s grieving. Violet turns over to face Ellie knowing that she needs another person’s presence in this moment. She’s met with Ellie’s back, hunched over, elbows resting on her knees. She runs her fingers through her hair, the limbs only gliding through her bangs before getting stuck in the bit that is pulled back into a half-up half-down style. There’s that sigh again.

Violet worms her way closer to Ellie’s figure. She runs her fingers up her back alerting her girlfriend to the fact that she’s awake. Ellie jolts slightly and the touch, not expecting her to be awake.

She glances over her shoulder a small, sad smile on her face.

“Hey you,” Violet whispers.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, baby.”

She tries to play it off as nothing is wrong but Violet knows her better than she knows herself, probably. There’s no hiding herself when it comes to things like this, not when they both understand the feelings of grief.

“You didn’t wake me, this godforsaken heat makes it impossible to sleep,” a small, comforting smile decorates Violet’s face.

She only gives her the same smile from earlier, before turning back to rest her arms on her legs. Violet sits up, scooting in to sit behind Ellie. Wrapping her legs around the woman, she rests her chin on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She softens the question with a light kiss the the side of Ellie’s neck.

Ellie leans her head back, looking up at the ceiling before blowing out a long breath.

“You can say no,” Violet reminds her, not wanting to pressure her girlfriend into talking about it if she’s not ready.

“No, I do. I’m just thinking…” she trails off, still looking at the ceiling. Violet rests her chin back on the woman’s shoulder, patiently waiting.

“A man,” Ellie sucks in a breath like the memory physically hurts her.

“Why don’t we lay down, hm?” Violet runs her fingers up Ellie’s back once more. Ellie nods once.

Violet moves back to her side of the bed pulling the sheet up around her waist, peeling it back for Ellie to slide underneath.

They lay on their sides facing each other, noses almost touching. Once Ellie is settled Violet leans forward a fraction bumping her nose with her girlfriends in a comforting gesture.

Ellie gives her a small smile before continuing, “A man came in today. They found him out while scavenging.”

Violet has a feeling she knows where this story is going. There are very few things that pull that particular sigh out of her girlfriend and Joel is one of them.

“He was alone, all beaten up, covered in dirt.” She pauses like she is picturing said man, “I was out on patrol, they asked me to bring him to get cleaned up and then to Donna so she could ask him some questions.” Her eyes squeeze shut.

Violet traces the lines of Ellie’s forearm tattoo, knowing that there’s nothing that needs to be said at this moment; she’ll continue when she’s ready but Violet couldn’t help but give her the little encouragement at the sight of her pain.

“I walked him to the bathrooms so he could shower. On the way, he talked a little bit, nothing much but he mentioned his daughter,” She gasps before the first tear falls onto the pillow under her head.

“I don’t know what happened but the pain in his eyes when he mentioned her reminded me so much of him,” she sobs, “and his hair was black wi-” gasp, “with streaks of gray. It just reminded me so much of him.” The last bit of the sentence is garbled.

“Oh baby,” Violet rushes to wipe her tears, hugging Ellie’s head to her chest. Joel. She’s talking about Joel. This happens now and again. It’s not often that Ellie cries over Joel. Violet knows her girlfriend feels the grief of losing him every day, but it’s not often that she lets it out like this.

“It’s stupid, I know. That guy is just a random man, it doesn’t matter, but for some reason it just hit me.” The sound of her voice is muffled into Violet’s chest.

“It’s not stupid baby. In fact, it’s completely normal. Every time I see Tessa and that blond hair of hers my heart seizes. It’s only for a brief second but not a day goes by where her hair doesn’t remind me of Jessy’s.” Violet assures her. Years ago, before Ellie and Violet had even met, Violet and her sister Jessy were out on their own. Violet got lucky, found a safe place to live, a woman to love. Jessy was not as lucky.

Not a day goes by when Violet does not grieve her sister so she can understand the pain Ellie’s in, it’s one of the reasons they were so drawn to each other, their shared grief.

“I know it’s not stupid it’s just-” she pauses, bringing her head back to the pillow, “I just want the constant pain to end. He died years ago. When will it end?”

“Never.” Violet bluntly told her, “You loved him. He was important to you. You’ll never forget him and so that grief will never leave, not fully.” She gave a sad smile.

“Such a pep-talker,” Ellie joked, giving a wet chuckle.

“I’m trying here,” Violet playfully slapped Ellie’s shoulder.

She reached for Ellie’s face wiping away a few lingering tear streaks, “I’m serious though. It will never go away, but that’s not a bad thing. It means that he’s still with you, in here.” Violet rubs a finger on Ellie’s chest right over her heart, “Just like Jessy’s still in here.” She brings Ellie’s finger to her own chest rubbing the same spot.

After a few moments spent in silence the women lock eyes, “Maybe you’re not so bad at the whole pep-talk thing,” she chuckles, Violet matching her with a giggle.

“I have something for you,” Violet surprises Ellie by saying.

“Oh and what could that be?” She suggestively questions with the raise of her eyebrows.

“Get your mind out of the gutter baby, it’s an actual present.” Violet laughs, getting up from the bed and heading towards the closet. She slides the door open, squatting before a pile of clothes on the ground.

Ellie sits up, trying to get a better look at what she’s doing riffling through their dirty clothes. Violet springs up spinning on her toes, hiding something behind her back. She walks over to the bed crawling up the mattress before settling on her knees in front of Ellie.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,”

Ellie raises an eyebrow at the request.

“Please?” Violet gives her the doe eyes that she knows Ellie can never say no to. She complies, slowly shutting her eyes, and running her hands up her girlfriend’s hips before holding them in the air before her.

Violet gives a soft moan and the light caress causing Ellie to give a cocky smirk. She settles the present in her outstretched hands settling back onto her heels, anxiously waiting for the woman’s reaction.

Ellie opens her eyes staring down at the cardboard square in her hands. Her eyes widen in realization over what this gift is. It’s a vinyl of the 2013 album Lightning Bolt by Pearl Jam. Silence lingers in the room, Ellie in shock at what she’s holding, Violet anxious, and the woman’s silence.

“Maybe it’s stupid but I thought since you have the tape version you might like the vinyl for the house.” She wrings her fingers together.

All Ellie says in response is, “Where did you get this?” at a loss for any other response.

“Nalla was out on a run a few days ago when she found it. I traded her some paint for it. Apparently, she has taken up the hobby of water coloring.”

“You didn’t have to do that baby,” she says so softly, still looking at the album.

“I wanted to.” She simply responds.

Ellie finally looks up, her eyes watery, “Thank you.”

“Of course baby.” Ellie pulls Violet into her lap, placing a chaste kiss on her lips.

“I love you,” Ellie says between another kiss, this one a little firmer, as if to cement the statement.

“I love you too,” Violet says against her lips, before deepening the kiss.

Their lips lock together like pieces of a puzzle. As if they were made for each other. Sometimes Violet thinks they must have been; it’s the only reasonable explanation for the connection they share.

Ellie bands her arms around Violet’s waist, drawing her impossibly closer. The movement grinding them together causing both to let out synchronized sighs.

Ellie runs her tongue along the seam of her girlfriend’s lips begging for entrance. Violet immediately grants it to her moaning at the taste of the woman.

They tumble back into the pillows, Ellie on her back, Violet settling on top of her hips, their lips never disconnecting. Ellie runs her hands up the back of Violet’s thighs.

Violet gasps out a moan, pulling back to sit up. Ellie continues her exploration of the woman’s body with her hands. She leans up to trail her lips down the side of Violet’s neck, “Please,” she sobs when Ellie’s hands reach the hem of her loose, black tank top.

At the whine in her voice, Ellie seems to turn feral, whipping the shirt off and over her head. The feral-ness however is paused when she sees what is under her girlfriend’s shirt. A red, lacy bra with little gems lining the sheer cups.

She blows out a breath at the sight, falling back onto the pillows. Running her hands up the top of her woman’s thighs she takes in the view. Violet, straddling her in her sleep shorts and a red lace bra, smirking down at her.

“Jesus,” she mutters, at a loss for words. She can’t believe this woman is hers.

“Oh yeah,” Violet plays innocent, “Nalla also found this while scavenging.”

“You give Nalla all the paint she wants,” Ellie jokes looking up into Violet’s eyes.

Violet giggles, leaning down to frame Ellie’s face with her hands, “God I love you.” She says against her lips.

Ellie grips her hips flipping them so Violet is now on her back, long brown locks fanned out on the pillows.

She leans down, looking deeply into Violet’s blue eyes, “I love you too.” She punctuates the statement with a searing kiss.

(How did we like it? I don't know it was bouncing around in my brain for a while so I just decided fuck it why not, and wrote it. I also have written a few more scenes with Ellie and Violet but idk when I'll post them. Thanks for reading<3)

#tlou #tlou2 #ellie tlou #joel tlou #joel and ellie #ellie williams #dealing with grief #loss #emotions #comfort #original character #my fic #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

16 notes · View notes

putschki1969 · 11 months

Note

Hello Puts, how are you?

Thanks always for your hard work.

Here's my question: what do you think of Hikaru's current solo career?

Hello there!

I am okay, a little busy but nothing I can't handle.

Phew, that's a loaded question. I have quite a few thoughts about Hikaru's current situation but most of them are rather negative so I am a little hesitant to share them. But oh well, here goes nothing...

Fair warning though, this is probably gonna sound like a rant, there's just a lot of pent-up frustration within me🙈

Right off the bat I wanna start with something positive before we get to the nasty stuff. I am a big fan of Hikaru's collabs with members of C.C.C. So glad Takeshi Kato (= SPICE guy) brought her onboard. As far as I am concerned, her stage play appearances are some of the best work she has done in recent times. You can tell that she is having fun and everyone seems to have welcomed her with open arms. When she is interacting with her cast-mates, it's like she transforms into a totally different person, she is happy and carefree, no sign of her reserved and quiet self. I also appreciate that HaKA (Kenichiro Hakariya = head of C.C.C.) continues to write solid tracks for Hikaru, so far he has done all of her freelance solo work, I am guessing her newest song "Flow" (debuted during her birthday broadcast) is also by him. Hopefully they will invite Hikaru to join another play in the future, one with a lot of music just like "Ambient Border".

In a similar vein, I very am happy to see that Keiko is taking Hikaru under her wing a little, I think that helps her get some much needed exposure.

Now that that's out of the way, let's address the elephant in the room: Music Champ. There are really no words that can convey how much I hate the fact that Hikaru has chosen a nondescript app as her main platform for almost all private and work-related interactions. I use the word hate very sparingly when it comes to anything Kalafina-related but in this case, nothing else seems fitting. In my opinion, relying solely on this stupid "Music Champ" app really cheapens her status as a serious artist. She might as well be using OnlyF@ns at this point¯\_(ツ)_/¯ The whole purpose of this streaming app is to level up a handful of wannabe idols by throwing "items" at them (which is achieved by viewers purchasing coins in the app). I can't believe that a large portion of each broadcast is wasted on those silly level-up campaigns or "item-times" which have literally no added value. Just a bunch of people sending items and Hikaru reacting to it. Not exactly my idea of fun. And really, you pretty much just finance a shady app, I bet only a fraction of the revenue goes to Hikaru herself. Everyone here knows that I am the biggest advocate of supporting your favourite artists but even I have to draw the line somewhere. I honestly don't trust weird apps that no one uses and on principle, I refuse to feed into this kind of activity ¬_¬

Another thing that really bothers me about the app is more of a me-problem but I'd still like to point it out. It's the fact that I cannot record any of the live streams. Yeah, I know, as a fan I am by no means entitled to a recording, this is complaining on a high level but it bugs me. I am aware of course that this feature might very well be one of the main reasons why Hikaru favours this platform over others but for some reason, that makes it even more annoying. Especially since the timing of her regular broadcasts is not exactly foreigner-friendly (at least not for my time-zone) so I can almost never watch her stuff live. I don't think I've been able to watch any of her more recent Wednesday lives and that sucks.

On a side note, is it just me or does this app consume a ton of RAM and drain the battery way too quickly ? Whenever I watch the broadcasts, I am having some major issues with my smartphone even though I have a relatively new iPhone. Within a few minutes, my phone will overheat and sometimes the app will even crash. Does anyone else experience similar problems or is it really just an issue with my phone?

All right, rant over. There is really not much else to say. Hopefully this didn't turn out too bad, it wasn't my intention to bash Hikaru or anything. I am just sad that she has chosen a path that I am not willing to follow. A lot of her loyal fans seem to be happy to support her on the app though so I am glad she has that backup at least.

#kalafina #hikaru #reply #hikaru solo career #freelancer hikaru #rant

33 notes · View notes

delicatemagazinedreamer · 2 years

Text

Fractional Flow Reserve Market Business Opportunities by Leading Players, Incremental Revenue Growth and Trends Outlook to 2025

Fractional flow reserve is a metric used to assess the functional significance of an epicardial coronary artery stenosis. The fractional flow reserve (FFR) is calculated by dividing the stenosis's distal coronary pressure by the aortic pressure during maximal hyperemia. FFR is regarded as the gold standard for determining whether a specific stenosis is to blame for inducible ischemia.

The Fractional Flow Reserve Market is divided into invasive and non-invasive monitoring based on technology. The invasive monitoring segment held the largest market share in 2018 and will continue to do so throughout the forecast period. The gold standard for determining the hemodynamic impact of coronary lesions is invasive FFR monitoring. This technology measures fractional flow reserve using pressure guidewires and monitoring systems. The pressure guidewire calculates a ratio by measuring blood flow and pressure before and after the blockage.

Read more @ https://creativeedge16.blogspot.com/2022/06/fractional-flow-reserve-market-size.html

#Fractional Flow Reserve #Fractional Flow Reserve Market #Fractional Flow Reserve Market Demand #medical devices #Healthcare IT #Coherent Market Insights

0 notes

mrunalnerkarblog · 2 years

Link

Fractional flow reserve (FFR) is a technique used to determine the blood pressure difference across coronary artery stenosis (blockage). FFR is considered as a standard to determine the need for angioplasty. This technique is carried out during the process of angiography and is useful for evaluating the amount of oxygen delivered to the heart due to the stenosis (blockage). Fractional flow reserve can be defined as the pressure after a stenosis, relative to the pressure before the stenosis.

#Fractional Flow Reserve Market

0 notes

comingsoon2aroadsideditchnearyou · 9 months

Text

Why Capitalism Needs Infinite Growth to Survive

Or, 'Even The Goddamn Money Is Privately Owned '

So, you know how capitalism apologists always say that we need a high growth rate in order to ensure high standards of living? Didja ever notice how they don't actually give a shit and a half about the magnitude of resources people are able to access, only that the rate of change is positive? There's a structural reason for that. It's a dogshit one, but like, it's pretty influential.

It starts with Fractional Reserve Banking. Been around for a while, basically ever since paper money was invented. When a bank takes a savings deposit, it can lend most of that deposit back out to someone else. The person who takes out the loan will spend the money on something, and the person who receives the money will put it in their savings account, and the cycle repeats.

The reserve requirement in the US is 10%, which means that through this multiplier effect, the commercial banking system can expand the money supply printed by the government by up to a factor of 10x. In other words, ~90% of the money in circulation is privately owned, and crucially, it carries interest.

So, almost every dollar out there needs to get paid back to a lender, with some extra dollars sprinkled on top (as a treat). This is only possible if there is always more money in the future than there is in the present, in order to make up the missing difference.

This means capitalism is always operating in some mixture of three states:

1. The increased flow of money is spent on an increased flow of stuff, which is growth.

2. The increased flow of money is spent on the same amount of stuff, which is inflation.

3. The flow of money does not increase, so the loans cannot be repaid, so the banks crash and pull the plug on the money printer and now nobody has permission to do anything anymore and the entire system crashes and everything is terrible but it can probably be fixed with austerity guys, I promise, just one more public service cut, it'll fix everything this time, trust me bro

The State can come in and print a whole bunch of money to shift the economy from situation 3 to situation 2, but you can't print more resources. That requires pulling a bunch of energy and materials out of the ground. And so they pillage the Earth, and they lie about trying to cut back in the future, and they greenlight new fossil projects, and they pillage even faster, and they profit.

Capitalism can often feel insurmountable, but part of that is because, ever since World War 2, there have been easily extractable deposits of petroleum that have let the system constantly accelerate to insane levels of material throughput. That won't last forever. Fossil fuels and mineral deposits get harder to extract as time goes on. And every time the extraction system has even the slightest hiccup, capitalism reveals itself to be as fragile as a shark, choking to death as soon as it stops swimming.

PICTURED: How energy and mineral resource depletion built up to trigger the 2008 financial crisis, and radicalized an entire generation

#anti capitalism #climate change #economy #infinite growth #degrowth #eat the rich #if you squint real hard it looks like everybody in charge is a massive fucking clown #politics

4 notes · View notes

collapsedsquid · 1 year

Text

Can draw parallels between the low/no-cost fractional reserve checking accounts and Robinhood style no-fee payment-for-order-flow brokerages work, both are places where people are very fee-sensitive so both come up with ways to avoid or minimize fees that then become controversial.

3 notes · View notes

in-inertia · 1 year

Text

Gladiia: Face the Herald

The ocean pulsed and swelled, the waters choked with masses of teeming flesh.

[ Part 3 of 4 ]

[ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ] [ Part 4 ]

The Church of the Deep was too ingrained in Iberian society to ever truly be extinguished by the loss of any Bishop. The cultists rebounded quickly from the losses of Quintus and Amaia. This time, another face, and another Seaborn 'Herald' to bring about yet another disaster. It would hardly be the last, but it would be the last one that Gladiia faced. She would not continue to spend the lives of those she cared about pressing back hopelessly against oblivion. Perhaps at one point, she would have—but she'd become soft, weakened by the love and comforts she'd found in the last year upon land. If she continued to lead her Hunters into battle like this, she'd be flirting with disaster.

She might already be doing that, just by completing her current mission.

It was massive. The Herald was a veritable Leviathan—the largest Seaborn she'd seen since the ill-begotten victory against Ishar-mla that sundered her troops and stranded what little remained of the Abyssal Hunters upon Iberia's shores. This was no Firstborn—if it were, there'd be no hope for the Iberians—but it still spelt disaster for the Inquisition.

The Inquisition was out in full force. Every able Inquisitor was mobilized for this crisis, though only a fraction of them were able to assist in the fight itself. The rest were back upon land, rooting out the cultists' plot to the best of their ability. Tulip was among them, spearheading Rhodes Island's efforts to collaborate with Saint Carmen. Likewise, Carmen himself would not be joining the Hunters in this battle. He would seek out the newly-appointed Bishop himself alongside one of his greatest critics.

Gladiia would have found some amusement at that were she not overcome by a profound dread. Their forces were split. The most powerful of the Inquisitors were committed to hunting the Bishop—a necessary affair, but one that left their assault force dangerously anemic.

Irene, incidentally, was one of the Inquisition's forces that remained by the Hunters' side. She hadn't spoken much to them since they confirmed they'd be leaving alongside their Captain. In truth, neither Skadi nor Laurentina protested much. While both were conflicted about the idea internally, they had more than enough reasons to hang up their weapons.

Skadi had already resigned once. It brought her no happiness, but she was alone, then. She wasn't alone anymore. Laurentina, meanwhile, had reservations about leaving the hatchling bird to fend for herself—but Gladiia and Skadi were the world to her, and she would do anything to remain by their side. Even if surrender were tantamount to death, she'd join them in peaceful repose.

They would need to survive today first. Against something like this, that was never guaranteed. As a trio, the Hunters were akin to an army by themselves. This creature, however, was the worst they'd yet to encounter upon the land.

The Herald began to sing.

The air was choked by Silence. The singing of the Seaborn, alien to human ears, was incomprehensible. Human minds couldn't process the sound, and so they took to processing nothing at all. A torrent of misshapen creatures poured from the abysses, a writhing tide of alien flesh replacing the waves. The ocean became solid, its ebb and flow swallowed by the undulating mass.

An individual Sea Terror on land would be a nearly unstoppable, endlessly voracious hunter that local forces would be hard-pressed to contend with. Their armor was nigh-impenetrable by all but the most powerful of terrestrial weapons, and even their fleshy skin would shrug off bullets and blades. Now, thousands of them—perhaps millions—emerged from the sea, rushing towards the land as an unstoppable swarm.

At the center was the creature that beckoned them: a gargantuan monster, long and segmented like a bobbit worm. Adorning the surface of its cuticle-plated body were a number of smaller terrors, though each still quite large in their own right. They bore some resemblance to hooded nudibranchs, with eyes lining their hoods.

It became nearly impossible to make sense of the tides of battle. The Penal Battalion's Tercio opened fire upon the masses of terrors with all the artillery it could muster. The onslaught was a devastating surge of Arts and explosives from an array of casters and cannon operators that could reduce a human force to a fine mist in seconds. Here, it only served to thin the encroaching tidal wave. The surviving terrors responded in kind by rushing the beach. The Inquisitors, virtual demigods among men, could not afford to turn their sights away from the larger targets—more durable and advanced Sea Terrors, akin to officers among the legions, which the Battalion's weaponry had little effect against. They quickly disappeared into the fray, their silent battles nearly unrecognizable against the drowning visual noise of combat.

The Herald itself would be the focus of the Hunters. Figuring out its weakness was Gladiia's job.

The Seaborn aspired towards perfection. Their evolution converged upon pristine, flawless existence—but asymptotically. No matter how immaculate the creature was, it was made of flesh and organic matter. It was alive, and life requires compromise.

The shell of the creature was impossible to penetrate, even with their immense strength. Similar to the Firstborn, they wouldn't be able to simply overwhelm it with brute force. Between its segments were fleshier bits, but they were protected by glistening barbs. In these cases, her instinct would be to go for sensory organs—but if this creature had any beyond the antennae above its maw, she couldn't discern them.

The antennae would be useful in water, but outside the waves as they were, they should be largely useless. How, then, was the creature able to track their movements so well…?

The Hunters were easily able to avoid the slams by its massive, tentacular arms—but the Penal Battalion back ashore wasn't so fortunate. Singular impacts scattered hundreds of soldiers. Though the Hunters engaged the Herald before it could reach the shore, its immense limbs caused shockwaves and tidal surges that knocked the soldiers off their feet and disrupted their formations. Even the briefest lapse in their artillery barrage made them easy prey for the masses of terrors. Lines of terrors broke ashore with each slam, cutting down dozens of men in moments before the Inquisitors pushed the line back with the blinding flare bursts of their handcannons.

The Battalion couldn't maintain constant fire for long at this rate, and constant fire was the only thing holding back the endless lines of horrors.

The Hunters would need to ramp up the aggression, but how? There would need to be exploitable weak points for them to accomplish anything, and forcing those weaknesses into the light was easier said than done. The nudibranchs, meanwhile, spat some pressurized violet fluid at them—likely some form of corrosive neurotoxin, if their previous experiences with the Seaborn were any indication. Immediately lethal to any human, it'd only serve to stun the Hunters for a few moments, but those few moments would likely be their last with the horde swarming around them. For someone with Gladiia's speed, avoiding the spittle was no issue. For her slower comrades, however, it was difficult to juggle with aggression. Without a proper field to fight upon, and with the ocean thick with the sea terror hordes, they instead balanced themselves upon the Leviathan's massive limbs, leaping into the air before each impact. In the limited field, their options for avoiding the spittle were few.

Gladiia quickly made a deduction about the Herald's nature. It wasn't a particularly profound conclusion, but it was one that she could easily test.

The beast was blind outside of the water. That was the tradeoff for its invulnerability—by removing weakpoints from its design, it necessarily sacrificed sensory organs. But she and her Hunters were fast, too fast for the Hivemind to communicate information about their locations so quickly. Yet, when she went after the needle-like barbs, the beast immediately recoiled to deny her purchase as the nudibranchs fired upon her.

The nudibranchs weren't separate entities at all. They were part of the Herald. In fact, if she had to make a further deduction, she'd judge by the worm's bestial movements that it had very little in the vein of a developed brain, if it had a brain at all. It certainly acted by pure instinct in the moments after it took a blow from Gladiia, a superficial wound carved by her lance as she carefully avoided the surging barbs rising to meet her.

That was incongruent with each previous 'Herald'—the Seaborn that collaborated with the Church were typically intelligent creatures, capable of speech and understanding. That was the foundational basis of their wretched symbiosis.

If the Leviathan was brainless, then the Leviathan wasn't the Herald. The nudibranchs were, collectively, and they controlled the larger creature. Without them, it would be blind and dumb.

The first fell at her hands. It was a trivial matter to sever life from flesh once she was within reach. Its fleshy form gave easily to the supersonic impact of her lance. Her theory was put to the test. If the Herald was indeed the sum of the nudibranchs, then the creature would immediately change its strategy upon realizing its vulnerability was noticed.

Indeed—the moment the nudibranchs realized what was happening, the game changed. The invulnerability that the Herald enjoyed vanished quickly, as its camouflage failed. No longer safe, it ceased its efforts to disrupt the Penal Battalion to devote its full attention to the Hunters now assaulting it.

Perhaps, at one point, the Hunters would have been able to rise to that challenge.

The Leviathan's arms ceased scattering the soldiers at the beach, but their activity did not become any less dangerous. Instead, the Herald commanded it to use its limbs to confine the Hunters. Suddenly deprived of much of the space they were working with, the Hunters had to leap into the waters to avoid the spittle—cutting through masses of sea terrors as they did.

—

Upon the shore, Irene turned her gaze towards the massive creature as its movements changed. She couldn't afford to watch for very long, but something that immense taking any action was cause for some concern. Gladiia moved too quickly for her eyes to track, but Skadi and Laurentina were easier to observe. To Irene's surprise, they weren't attacking the Leviathan at all, but those strange creatures clinging to the surface of its body. She wasn't entirely sure why, when they were largely avoiding wasting time on every other Sea Terror—but if they were, then there might be a chance she could help. Killing the Herald was akin to killing a General. Once the leader was slain, the rest of the troops would become demoralized and disordered, many of them reverting to near-mindless beasts.

She had to get within firing range. To the confusion of the soldiers in her vicinity, she rushed the shoreline.

#action post

6 notes · View notes