#Rite Academy

[riteacademyblog]

Level Up Your Skills: Top MEP Courses in Hyderabad with Rite Academy

The Mechanical, Electrical, and Plumbing (MEP) sector plays a crucial role in the development of modern infrastructure.

For those seeking to excel in this dynamic field, selecting the right training institute is vital.

Rite Academy has established itself as a premier destination for MEP courses in Hyderabad, combining quality education with practical exposure to equip students with industry-relevant skills.

What is MEP? Understanding Its Importance

MEP stands for Mechanical, Electrical, and Plumbing, the three core components that ensure the functionality of a building.

From HVAC systems to electrical wiring and plumbing networks, MEP services are integral to residential, commercial, and industrial projects.

Professionals in this field must possess in-depth knowledge of design principles, system installation, and maintenance practices.

Read More : MEP Course in Hyderabad

Why Choose Rite Academy for MEP Courses in Hyderabad?

Rite Academy is a leading ISO 9001:2015 certified training institution that focuses on delivering specialized courses tailored to meet the demands of the evolving job market. Here’s why Rite Academy stands out:

. Expertise in Training

Rite Academy is backed by a team of seasoned professional engineers with over a decade of experience in both training and engineering services.

This expertise translates into high-quality education and personalized guidance for students.

. Comprehensive Curriculum

The MEP courses at Rite Academy are designed to cover all essential aspects of the field, including:

Mechanical Systems: HVAC design, ducting, and thermal load calculations.

Electrical Systems: Power distribution, wiring design, and load analysis.

Plumbing Systems: Water supply systems, drainage design, and fire protection systems.

. Hands-On Training

Rite Academy emphasizes practical learning through state-of-the-art labs and real-world projects.

Students are exposed to industry-grade tools and technologies, preparing them for on-site challenges.

. Global Recognition

Rite Academy’s reputation extends beyond borders. The institute has successfully trained over 3,000 professionals, including international students from countries like Canada, Australia, and the Middle East.

. Placement Assistance

The academy takes pride in its robust placement support. Hundreds of graduates have been recruited by top companies in sectors such as manufacturing, oil & gas, shipbuilding, and construction.

Invest in Your Future with Rite Academy

Choosing the right training institute is a critical step toward a successful career in the MEP industry.

Rite Academy offers the perfect blend of theoretical knowledge, practical exposure, and global recognition to help you excel.

[leelarots]

hi. torvic rock murder. each time the rock comes on his head, regeneration energy sparks out of him like a fire striker against flint, but without it taking. am I making sense here. please

for reference, a fire striker

[shouldwemaybe]

non binary rep on my brother's math

[odileeclipse]

April Fools’ Special: “The Great Prank War of Blueberry Yogurt Academy” Crack-filled spinoff…Non-canon. No logic. Just glitter and emotional whiplash.

The day begins with a single, ominous announcement echoing through the Academy’s ancient halls

“To all students and faculty: April 1st shall henceforth be known as the Day of Arcane Fools. The Hall of Enlightenment bears no responsibility for what is to come. Proceed with chaos.”

You wake up to find your shoes replaced with jelly slimes that scream “THE TRUTH IS A LIE” with every step. Chai Latte Cookie bursts in moments later, giggling uncontrollably.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, deadpan. “Hazelnut dared me. Besides, you do look good in slime shoes.”

Earl Grey Cookie and Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie have barricaded the dining hall, claiming it's under quarantine due to "rogue custard spirits." They’re dressed in full alchemical hazmat robes, enforcing ridiculous entry rites like reciting the entire history of blueberry cultivation.

And then oh, then comes Shadow Milk Cookie. He enters the dining hall by materializing from a burst of stardust and scrolls, grand cloak billowing behind him, voice echoing with noble gravitas.

“BEHOLD. I HAVE FORESEEN THE GREATEST FOOLERY IN THE STARS. AND I yes, I, the Sage of Truth SHALL JOIN THIS GLORIOUS NONSENSE.”

He’s wearing sunglasses shaped like ancient runes, and his Soul Jam is flickering with rainbow disco light. Chai Latte Cookie collapses into laughter. “I knew he’d crack eventually,” she whispers, nudging you. “Is it weird that I find this version of him kinda... charming?”

Shadow Milk Cookie has declared a Prank War Tournament structured, of course. He conjures scrolls of rules that are 73 pages long and somehow signed by “The Ghost Council.” No one remembers such a council existing before today.

The teams are set Team Moonmilk  consists of You, Shadow Milk, and Chai Latte. Team Chaos Custard consists of Hazelnut, Earl Grey, and a very confused first-year student who thought this was a study group.

The war includes

Potion Ping-Pong don’t drink the wrong one; some give you wings, others uncontrollable hiccup spells.

Scroll Charades, where mispronunciation can summon temporary illusions (Earl Grey accidentally conjures a herd of tiny squealing sheep. No one knows why.)

and Hide-and-Seek through the Nightmare Archive, where all the books whisper dad jokes to throw you off.

At one point, Shadow Milk Cookie corners you in a corridor, gently smirking behind his rune-glasses.

“You’ve played quite cleverly today. I daresay I underestimated you, my starlit assistant in tomfoolery.”

You blink at him. “You just enchanted the custodian's mop to sing opera. Doesn’t that count as clever?”

He gasps. “That mop had dreams!” Later, during a breather in the botanical gardens where prank pollen causes uncontrollable giggling fits Chai Latte sits beside you and hands you a cup of your favorite drink…which now sparkles for some reason. She leans her head on your shoulder with a soft sigh.

“Even if the world’s falling into prank-fueled chaos,” she murmurs, “I’m glad I get to be by your side. Just like always.” Before you can answer, Shadow Milk calls across the courtyard, waving what appears to be a glitter bomb shaped like a moonstone.

“Come, my dear trickster! We must seal our victory with The Grand Finale of Truth Confetti!”

You glance between your two companions, the sage gleaming with wild delight, and your friend glowing with gentle fondness. And you think 

Maybe this is what truth feels like too. Not just in knowledge... But in joy. In being seen. And in letting yourself laugh.

Operation: Confess or Confuzzle

You are minding your business. Simply existing. Enjoying a perfectly normal snack in the courtyard after surviving the Prank Tournament. The sun is gentle. The air smells like a mix of lemon balm and unidentifiable magical residue. Peaceful. Then Hazelnut Biscotti approaches with a shifty look in his eyes. “Just so you know,” he says, “something’s about to happen. I tried stopping them. I really did.” You don’t even have time to ask before

“DEAREST SCHOLAR OF MY HEART!”

Shadow Milk Cookie descends. From the sky. Cloak trailing behind him, arms wide, like a meteor of romantic drama. He lands on one knee before you, holding up a scroll with your name written in sparkly calligraphy.

Chai Latte Cookie is behind him, barely holding in her laughter. She gives you a wink and mouths, Just play along.

“For far too long,” Shadow Milk intones, “I have resisted these truths buried within me. But nay, I can hide no longer. On this sacred day of cosmic jest, I confess my soul yearns not just for truth... but for you.”

The entire courtyard goes silent. Several upper scholars drop their scrolls. One of them screams. Your jaw drops. You open your mouth to ask what in the moon-blessed realms is going on, but Shadow Milk continues.

“I seek not merely academic clarity, but the clarity of your gaze. Grant me thy hand, thy snack, and perhaps even thy study notes.”

He holds out a macaroon. You’re about to respond with something resembling a sound when…

“I OBJECT!”

Chai Latte Cookie storms forward in full theatrical fury, knocking over a chair for effect. “You can’t just confess on April Fools’ Day, Sage. That’s breaking the Ancient Rules of Trickery. Which means by Article 7, Clause Chaotic I have the right to duel you for their heart.”

You blink. “What.”

Shadow Milk narrows his eyes. “So be it. Let this duel commence.”

The Duel for Your Affection: “Truth vs Tea”

Location: The Courtyard of Possibly Cursed Flowers Judges: Earl Grey, Hazelnut, and the Opera Mop Weapons: Pranks only. Winner is whoever makes you laugh harder.

ROUND ONE: Prank Poetry

Chai Latte: Delivers a fake love poem that starts beautiful and ends in a recipe for lemon muffins. You tear up. Until she pulls a muffin from your pocket and yells, “Checkmate!”

Shadow Milk: Opens an ancient tome that releases a recording of him dramatically confessing his love to a potted plant...your potted plant. From three weeks ago. How did he even???

Point goes to Shadow Milk Cookie, for historical commitment.

ROUND TWO: The Embarrassing Memory Spell

They each cast a minor illusion spell that reveals a shared memory.

Chai Latte: Shows a moment when you fell asleep studying drooling and all, hairs out of place and she gently covered you with her scarf, staring at you like you were the only Cookie in the world.

Shadow Milk: Accidentally shows you calling him “Shmilk” in a dream. Out loud. In a crowded library.

You scream. Your face flushing. They both look smug. Point goes to Chai Latte, for psychological warfare. Wasn't the point of this to make you laugh?...

FINAL ROUND: Personal Confession Bomb

Each gets one final statement to “convince” you.

Chai Latte Cookie: She steps forward, all teasing gone from her face. Voice soft.  “If I only get to make you laugh today… that’s enough for me. But if there ever comes a day you want to know how I really feel…”  She presses a tiny folded note into your hand. “You’ll find me.”

Shadow Milk Cookie: He clears his throat, awkwardly solemn for once.  “It may have begun as a jest, but in trying to make you laugh, I uncovered a... truth I hadn’t prepared for. I would like to continue being the reason you smile even if it's as a fool.”  He bows. “Though I must admit... I rather like it when you blushed.”

The courtyard erupts.

Earl Grey: “I CALL IT A TIE.” Hazelnut: “I vote for the mop.” The Mop: operatic screeching intensifies

Epilogue:

You’re left on the grass, heart pounding, surrounded by absurdity and affection. A note in one hand. A glitter scroll in the other. And two very different Cookies one warm like tea, the other burning like a comet watching you with soft smiles.

And even though it’s all a joke...

...why does it feel so real?

Post-Credits Scene: The mop lands a solo in the Academy spring recital. No one questions it.

A/N I made this not weeks ago but maybe a week and a half ago waiting for today...<3

It's just silly and non-canon

[bigboysfalldeep]

the rookie's rite of passage

Declan loved his new job as a police officer. Ever since he’d stepped foot into the academy, every push-up, every test, every drill had been worth it to finally wear that uniform. The navy blue sat perfectly on him, sharp and pressed, his badge gleaming, and his belt sitting snug around his hips. The hours were long, the expectations high, but it didn’t matter—he’d earned his place here, and he belonged.

For two months now, he’d been partnered with Sergeant Brooks, an older officer in his mid-forties with short-cropped graying hair and a sturdy, broad frame. Brooks was respected, one of those men who carried authority with him effortlessly. Everyone in the department said he was the kind of partner a rookie could learn from, someone who knew the ins and outs of the job beyond any textbook or academy lesson.

The two of them made an odd pair, Brooks heavy-footed and gruff, Declan lean and bright-eyed. Yet, they worked well together—Brooks providing the steady guidance and Declan always eager to absorb the advice. Today, their last shift of the week, Declan couldn’t help but feel satisfied. He was getting the hang of it—running plates, responding to calls, talking to the public. He was finding his rhythm.

“Almost done, rookie,” Brooks said as they sat in their patrol car, cruising down an empty stretch of road outside town. The late afternoon sun painted the horizon in gold and orange, and Declan felt that calm that came after a good day’s work.

“Yeah,” Declan said, glancing over at his sergeant. “It’s been a good week, hasn’t it?”

Brooks nodded, lips curling into a faint grin. “Not bad at all. You’re starting to get it. There’s only so much the academy can teach you, though. The real lessons—the real training—happens out here.”

Declan sat a little straighter at that. He liked when Brooks complimented him. “I appreciate that, sir.”

“Good man,” Brooks said. Then, as if considering something, he slowed the patrol car down and turned off onto an old, abandoned parking lot. The cracked asphalt stretched out before them, surrounded by a scattering of trees. It looked like a forgotten place, far enough from town that it felt isolated.

Declan frowned curiously. “Something wrong, sir?”

“Nah,” Brooks said, parking the car and shutting off the engine. He turned to Declan with that same faint grin. “I’m going to show you how I do field sobriety tests.”

Declan blinked. “Field sobriety tests?”

“Yeah,” Brooks said, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. “Come on. It’s a little trick of the trade. Maybe you’ll pick up something they didn’t show you at the academy. Besides, it's something we old guys show you rookies, consider it, a rite of passage."

Declan’s curiosity got the better of him. He climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him, and followed Brooks to the center of the lot. The sun was sinking lower now, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. A gentle breeze rolled by, rustling the trees, but otherwise, it was eerily quiet.

Brooks pulled a pen from his pocket and held it up for Declan to see. It looked ordinary enough until Brooks twisted it, and the tip lit up with a bright, pretty light. It was a vivid, almost hypnotic color—soft and warm. Declan stared at it a second longer than he meant to.

Brooks chuckled softly. “Special pen. Makes it easier for the subject to focus. You’ve seen this test before, right?”

Declan nodded. “Yes, sir. I know how to conduct it. Hold the pen twelve to fifteen inches from their nose, have them follow it with their eyes while keeping their head still.”

“That’s the basics,” Brooks said, holding the pen up. “But there’s a bit of an edge to it if you know how to do it right.”

Declan tilted his head, intrigued. “Okay, sir.”

Brooks gestured for him to stand still. “I’ll demonstrate. Just follow the light with your eyes. Keep your head still, all right?”

Declan nodded again. “Got it.”

The light flickered on, that same captivating glow drawing Declan’s gaze. Brooks began to move the pen slowly from side to side, the rhythm steady, smooth. At first, it was simple—Declan kept his head still, his eyes tracking the pen as instructed. But something about it felt different, strange.

Brooks’ voice came softly, low and even. “That’s good, rookie. Just follow the light. Let your eyes track the motion. Don’t think about anything else. Just the light.”

Declan felt himself relaxing, his shoulders loosening as he obeyed. His focus narrowed.

“Nice and easy,” Brooks said, the pen moving in the same slow pattern. “Now, as you follow the light, I want you to listen to my voice. You’re doing great. Just let it happen. All your limbs are feeling heavier now. Heavier and heavier.”

Declan’s brows knit faintly, but he didn’t break focus. The words were soft, soothing, weaving through his thoughts.

He didn’t notice it at first—the tingling sensation that started at the base of his spine and worked its way up through his body. It felt good, warm and safe, like slipping under a blanket on a cold night.

“Just keep following the light,” Brooks murmured. “Your arms and legs are so heavy now. It’s easier to let go. To just listen to my voice. That’s all you need to do. Nothing else matters.”

Declan swayed slightly, but he didn’t notice. The pen was so pretty, and Brooks’ voice so calm.

“Okay, sir,” Declan mumbled, his words sluggish.

Brooks smiled faintly, though Declan didn’t see it. The rookie’s movements had grown slower, his eyes glassy but still tracking the pen obediently.

“That’s right,” Brooks said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Just follow the light. Don’t fight it. Don’t think. Let everything else slip away.”

Declan’s eyelids fluttered as he swayed more noticeably now, his lips parting slightly.

It was always so entertaining to watch. Brooks had done this before, of course—tested his little tricks on a handful of rookies over the years. Some resisted more than others, but in the end, it was always the same. They all sank under eventually.

And Declan? Declan was particularly responsive.

“You’re doing great, rookie,” Brooks said, still moving the light in slow, mesmerizing arcs. “Your body is so heavy now. So tired. But it feels good, doesn’t it? To let go. To relax completely. Just listening to me. Following the light.”

Declan swayed again, his breathing slower now. “Yeah... feels good,” he whispered.

Brooks chuckled softly. “That’s a good boy. You’re almost there. Just a little further.”

He slowed the movement of the pen until it hovered directly in front of Declan’s face, the glowing light reflecting in his wide, unfocused eyes.

“Now, rookie,” Brooks said softly, stepping closer. His free hand came up behind Declan, ready to catch him. “I want you to sleep.”

With that, Brooks tapped Declan’s forehead gently.

Declan’s body went limp immediately, his head falling forward as Brooks braced him easily with one arm. Brooks guided him down slowly, holding him steady as Declan’s weight sagged completely. His breathing was deep and slow, his expression blank and peaceful.

“Good boy,” Brooks murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. His hand came up to caress Declan’s cheek possessively, his thumb brushing over the soft skin. “You’re such a natural. I knew you’d take to this well.”

Declan’s lips moved faintly, as if murmuring something inaudible. Brooks tilted his head, smirking.

“You’re already repeating my words, aren’t you?” Brooks said softly. “You can’t help it. You’re so far under now. So deep.”

The real training could begin.

Brooks shifted, keeping his grip firm on Declan as he whispered into the rookie’s ear. “Now listen to me, Declan. Everything I say becomes the truth. Everything I tell you, you’ll obey without question. Do you understand?”

Declan’s lips moved again. “…Yes, sir.”

Brooks smiled.

“That’s right, rookie. Good boy.”

“Whenever you hear me say the word tingle, you will fall back into this blissful trance,” Brooks said, his voice calm and commanding, lingering just beside Declan’s ear.

Declan’s slackened form stirred slightly, lips parting to respond. “…Yes, sir,” he murmured, his voice distant, dreamlike.

Brooks smiled, satisfied. “Good. Now get up, rookie.”

He pulled Declan upright, steadying the younger man as his weight adjusted. For a moment, Declan swayed, but Brooks held him firm until he could stand on his own. The rookie’s eyes were still glazed over, unfocused, his face soft and relaxed.

Brooks stepped back just enough to take in the sight. The young officer stood there, obedient and pliant, his crisp uniform slightly disheveled. Brooks had always appreciated the look of discipline—the sharpness of the uniform, the pride in how it was worn. But on Declan? There was something more. Maybe it was the way the fabric clung just a little tighter than necessary to his lean frame, emphasizing his youth, his energy.

Brooks reached out again, letting his hand graze Declan’s cheek. Warm, soft skin met his palm, interrupted only by the faint roughness of stubble. A line of drool had slipped from the corner of Declan’s lips, and Brooks’ thumb brushed it away, his touch lingering.

“Attention, rookie. Stand tall,” Brooks commanded, his tone sharpening slightly.

Declan’s body reacted instantly, his training kicking in despite his dazed state. His spine straightened, his shoulders squared, his hands fell to his sides. He stood at full attention, chest slightly puffed out, chin raised.

Brooks smirked, circling him slowly. “Good boy. Flex those muscles for me.”

The words sank into Declan’s hazy mind like an anchor dropping into calm waters. Without hesitation, his body responded, his posture tightening further as his muscles engaged. His arms flexed subtly, his chest lifting as his pecs pushed against the tight fabric of his uniform.

Brooks stopped in front of him, his hands moving with deliberate slowness. He placed them on Declan’s shoulders first, feeling the tension beneath the layers of fabric. His grip moved downward, unzipping the rookie’s vest to give him some breathing room and better access.

“There you go,” Brooks murmured, his hands trailing over Declan’s chest. “Let’s give those muscles some room to work.”

The vest slid open, and Brooks let his hands roam. His palms pressed against Declan’s pecs, firm and defined beneath the taut fabric of his undershirt. He stroked along the curves of the muscles, his touch firm but not rough, kneading them slightly as he spoke.

“Good boy,” Brooks praised, his voice low. “You’ve been working hard, haven’t you? Feels like it.”

Declan sighed softly, his chest rising and falling under Brooks’ touch. The praise washed over him, mingling with the trance in his mind.

"Thank you, sir," he breathed deeply.

Brooks moved lower, his hands brushing over the flat plane of Declan’s abdomen, tracing the faint ridges of muscle beneath the shirt. His fingers lingered on the belt for a moment, then slid up again to feel Declan’s biceps.

“Strong arms,” Brooks said, squeezing the muscles appreciatively. “You’ve been putting in the effort. I can tell.”

Declan murmured something incomprehensible, his body leaning ever so slightly into the touch.

Brooks’ hands returned to Declan’s chest, stroking downward again—and that’s when he noticed it.

The strain in Declan’s uniform.

The fabric of his pants, usually crisp and smooth, had grown noticeably tighter at the crotch. A bulge pressed against the material, faint but unmistakable, the tension pulling the seams taut.

Brooks let his hand hover for a moment before placing it back on Declan’s abdomen, stroking idly. His smirk deepened.

“Well, well,” Brooks murmured, his voice almost teasing. “Looks like someone’s enjoying this a little more than they expected.”

Declan didn’t respond, his head tilting slightly as he let out another soft sigh.

Brooks’ hand trailed upward again, settling on the rookie’s chest once more. “That’s all right, rookie. You’re just doing as you’re told. And you’re doing so well.”

Brooks’ smirk deepened as he stepped closer, his hands firmly gripping Declan’s shoulders, steadying the younger officer as if grounding him. The rookie stood frozen in place, his breath slow and steady, his eyes unfocused but glimmering faintly in the dim light.

“You see, rookie,” Brooks began, his voice a low, velvety murmur, “this isn’t something every new recruit gets to do with me.”

He reached out, letting his hand rest possessively against Declan’s cheek, his fingers brushing through the soft stubble that framed the young man’s jaw. He tilted Declan’s head slightly upward, inspecting him as if savoring the sight.

“Just the eager ones,” Brooks continued, his tone almost mocking. “The willing ones. The ones who absorb every little word I say, who hang onto my instructions like they were born to obey.”

Declan let out a faint sigh, his lips parting slightly as he leaned instinctively into the touch. Brooks chuckled softly, his thumb tracing a deliberate line along the edge of Declan’s jaw.

“And you, rookie,” Brooks murmured, “you were so eager, weren’t you? Hanging on every word. Following every command without hesitation. It’s why you’re here now.”

Declan didn’t respond, his lips trembling faintly as if searching for the right words. Brooks didn’t let him. He moved closer, his hands sliding down from Declan’s shoulders to his chest, fingers splaying over the open vest and the taut fabric beneath it.

“You even asked for a tighter uniform, didn’t you?” Brooks teased, his grin sharp. “Trying to look sharp for me. Or maybe you were just showing off. I know what you are.”

His hand slid lower, brushing over the straining bulge in Declan’s pants. He stroked it teasingly, his fingers pressing just enough to make the tension more noticeable.

Declan shuddered at the touch, his breath hitching.

“That’s right,” Brooks said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know exactly what you are. And now, rookie, you’re where you’re meant to be. Obeying your sergeant. Doing everything I say.”

His hand lingered, stroking the bulge again, his other hand returning to cup Declan’s cheek. The rookie’s face was warm beneath his palm, flushed and pliant, his body practically melting under the weight of Brooks’ control.

Brooks took a deliberate step back, his boots scuffing slightly against the cracked pavement of the abandoned parking lot. He glanced down at them, then back at Declan, who remained standing tall, his uniform tight against his lean frame, his face blank and pliant.

“I think my boots need some cleaning, rookie,” Brooks said, his voice edged with authority. “Get to work.”

Declan blinked once, his glazed eyes flickering faintly with confusion before the command settled deep into his dazed mind. His body moved automatically, a puppet to Brooks’ will. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, the impact of his weight against the ground soft against the cracked asphalt.

Brooks watched, arms crossed, his smirk widening as the rookie leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on his thighs, his head bowing toward the polished black leather of Brooks’ boots.

“That’s a good boy,” Brooks murmured, his voice low and almost affectionate. “You’re learning fast. Just like I knew you would.”

Declan’s tongue darted out hesitantly, the tip grazing the surface of the boot. The leather tasted bitter, cool, and unfamiliar, but Declan didn’t pause. He worked his way along the toe, the motion slow and methodical, his breathing steady as if this was simply another task to complete for his sergeant.

Brooks chuckled, shifting his stance slightly to give Declan better access. “That’s it, rookie. Don’t miss a spot. I want them shining.”

Declan obeyed, dragging his tongue over the contours of the boot, his focus singular and unwavering. The light in his eyes had dimmed further, his thoughts clouded by the trance Brooks had carefully crafted.

Brooks let the silence hang for a moment, broken only by the soft, wet sound of Declan’s tongue against the leather. He drank in the sight of the rookie kneeling before him, so willing, so utterly compliant.

“You look good down there,” Brooks said finally, his tone almost teasing. “On your knees. Maybe that’s where you’re meant to be.”

Declan didn’t respond, his movements smooth and precise as he continued to clean the boot. A faint sheen of saliva coated the leather now, catching the fading light of the evening.

Brooks chuckled as he watched Declan work, the rookie's tongue dragging dutifully over the smooth leather of his boots. The sight was everything Brooks had imagined: obedient, eager, and entirely his. When the rookie finally paused, looking up with that blank, pliant expression, Brooks reached out and ran his hands along Declan’s sides, slow and deliberate, petting him like a dog.

“Good boy,” Brooks said softly, his fingers pressing into the firm lines of Declan’s waist, feeling the tension and warmth beneath the tight fabric of his uniform. “You’ve done well.”

He let his hands linger for a moment before stepping back and barking the next order. “Up, rookie. On your feet.”

Declan moved immediately, his body responding with automatic precision. He rose unsteadily, still swaying slightly from the trance, his eyes half-lidded and his face flushed. Brooks caught him by the chin, tilting his face up so their eyes met.

“There you go,” Brooks murmured, his thumb brushing over Declan’s cheek. His skin was warm to the touch, flushed with heat and something deeper. “That’s a good boy. You’ve earned this, rookie. All of it.”

"Thank you sir," Declan mumbled, his body heavy, but his mind satisfied by the praise.

Declan blinked slowly, his breathing shallow, and Brooks’ grin widened. His hand trailed lower, fingers grazing the damp fabric of Declan’s shirt, lingering on the tension in his chest before moving further downward.

“Oh?” Brooks teased, his tone mockingly surprised. His fingers stopped at the waistband of Declan’s pants, pressing slightly against the taut fabric before stroking over the obvious strain. A dark patch of wetness had begun to spread at the front, soaking into the material.

“Are you wet, rookie?” Brooks asked, his voice laced with amusement. “You are, aren’t you?”

Declan’s lips parted, a faint, trembling sound escaping him as his face flushed deeper.

"Y-yes, Sir," he stuttered.

Brooks’ hand pressed more firmly against the damp spot, stroking teasingly. “You’ve been working so hard for me, haven’t you? Following every command, doing everything I’ve told you. And now look at you.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You’re exactly where you’re meant to be. A good, obedient rookie. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir,” Declan murmured, the words barely audible but filled with a dazed certainty.

Brooks smirked, his hand withdrawing as he patted Declan’s cheek possessively. “That’s what I thought.”

Brooks stepped back, his eyes trailing over Declan’s form once more, savoring the way the tight uniform hugged the rookie’s athletic frame. His smirk deepened as he reached out, smoothing the fabric of Declan’s pants, wiping away the faint remnants of gravel before his hands deliberately lingered over the tension at the front.

“This uniform looks good on you, rookie,” Brooks said, his voice low, a hint of possessiveness threading through his tone. “Especially these tight pants.”

"Thank you, sir," Declans voice was barely above a whisper.

Declan stood still, his flushed face tilted downward, his breathing slow and steady as Brooks tugged gently at the fabric, straightening it with deliberate care.

Brooks’ hands moved back up, zipping the vest closed again, patting Declan’s chest with satisfaction. “Perfect. Now let’s get to the car. It’s time for the final step of your training for today.”

Declan nodded, wordless, as Brooks guided him back to the patrol car. The older man opened the door for him, placing a firm hand on Declan’s shoulder to help him inside. Once Declan was seated, Brooks leaned over, pulling the seatbelt across the rookie’s chest and buckling it securely.

“There we go,” Brooks murmured, his hand brushing briefly against Declan’s chest before stepping back and closing the door. He circled the car, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. The low growl filled the air, but Brooks didn’t move immediately.

Instead, he turned to Declan, placing a hand firmly on the younger man’s thigh, squeezing just enough to make his presence unmistakable. Declan stiffened slightly, his eyes flickering toward the touch before settling back into their glazed, empty stare.

“Now, rookie,” Brooks began, his voice soft but commanding. “I need you to focus. Focus all of you—every thought, every feeling—on your cock. Let it consume you.”

Declan’s breath hitched slightly, his chest rising and falling faster now, his body responding instinctively to the command.

“Good,” Brooks said, his hand remaining steady on Declan’s thigh. “Let it all out. Empty your mind. Don’t think. Just feel. Let it build. Let it take over.”

Declan’s eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting as he exhaled a shuddering breath. The tension in his body melted away, leaving him pliant once more, his head tilting slightly against the seat.

“And now,” Brooks continued, his voice dipping lower, almost a growl, “finish your training, rookie. Show me how far you’ve come.”

Declan let out a soft, trembling sound, his body obeying without hesitation as his mind emptied, focusing entirely on the sensation overtaking him. Brooks leaned back slightly, his hand still firm on the rookie’s thigh, watching with satisfaction as Declan surrendered completely, the final step in his transformation into perfect obedience.

Brooks’ grip on Declan’s thigh tightened as he leaned closer, his hand sliding up to firmly hold the rookie’s bulge. The strain beneath the fabric pulsed with tension, and Brooks’ touch remained steady, guiding him through the inevitable.

“That’s it, rookie,” Brooks murmured, his voice soft and coaxing. “Let it all out. Just focus on me, on my hand. I’ve got you.”

Declan’s breath came in shallow, shaky bursts, his body trembling as he surrendered completely. Brooks’ possessive hold didn’t waver, his hand firm and reassuring, controlling every motion as he guided Declan to release.

When it finally happened, Declan’s entire body shuddered, and he let out a low, involuntary groan. His muscles went slack, and he slumped back against the car seat, his chest heaving as the last remnants of tension drained from his body.

The wetness soaked through the tight fabric, against Brooks' palm. His cock throbbed visible, as he gave in completely. His eyes opened briefly just to roll back.

Brooks chuckled, withdrawing his hand but letting it linger on Declan’s thigh, a silent reminder of his control. He surveyed the rookie with satisfaction: flushed, pliant, and utterly spent.

“Good job, rookie,” Brooks said, his voice filled with pride. “You’ve learned fast. You’ve done everything I asked of you, just like I knew you would.”

Declan’s head lolled slightly to the side, his glazed eyes fluttering shut as his body relaxed into the seat.

“Now, rest patiently,” Brooks instructed, his tone soft but firm. “It’s almost time for you to come back. I’ll tell you when we’re at the station.”

He leaned back, gripping the steering wheel as he glanced at Declan one more time, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. The rookie was perfect—obedient, eager, and exactly where Brooks wanted him. The car rumbled softly as Brooks turned his attention back to the road, driving toward the station with his rookie still deep in his trance, waiting for his sergeant’s next command.

A few blocks from the station, Brooks pulled the patrol car to a stop once more, the engine rumbling briefly before he turned it off. He leaned back in his seat, turning toward Declan. The rookie was slumped slightly, one hand lazily stroking his chest through the fabric of his vest while the other rested over the damp bulge in his pants.

Brooks smirked, shaking his head with mock disapproval. “Now, now, rookie. We need some composure,” he chided, reaching out to straighten the fabric of Declan’s uniform. His fingers lingered over the taut, damp patch, smoothing it as if to hide any evidence of the rookie’s earlier release.“

We don’t want the other rookies to know, do we?” Brooks continued, his voice low and teasing. “They might get jealous.” He chuckled softly, his hand drifting up to caress Declan’s flushed face, his thumb brushing over the rookie’s jawline with possessive care.

“Don’t worry about the older guys, though,” Brooks added with a smirk. “They already know.”

Declan’s lips parted slightly, his breathing steady and shallow, completely under Brooks’ control. Brooks let the silence linger for a moment, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles along Declan’s cheek before giving him his final instructions.

“Time to come back, rookie,” Brooks murmured, his voice soft but commanding. “You won’t have any vivid memory from today. Just the little conditioning remains. Understood?”

Declan gave a slow nod, his head tilting slightly into Brooks’ touch. “Understood, sir.”

Brooks leaned closer, his hand moving to cup Declan’s chin. “You won’t bother with the wetness. It will feel natural soon. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Brooks pulled back slightly, his smirk returning. “Then rise and shine, rookie. Tingle.”

Declan blinked, his eyes slowly coming back into focus. He shifted slightly in his seat, a faint frown crossing his face before he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re at the station already?” he asked, his tone light and confused. “Must’ve dozed off.”

“It’s fine, lad,” Brooks said with a warm smile, patting Declan’s shoulder. “Didn’t miss anything important.”

Declan smiled sheepishly, still rubbing his chest absently, his fingers drifting over the wet patch without realizing it. Brooks noticed, his amusement hidden behind a professional veneer.

“Listen,” Brooks said casually, leaning back in his seat, “word has it we might be partnered for a while. If you want it, that is.”

Declan’s face lit up, his excitement palpable. “Really? I’d love that, sir.”

Brooks chuckled, gesturing toward the station ahead. “Good. Let’s head back, get changed, and call it a day, huh? You’ve earned it.”

Declan nodded eagerly, already unbuckling his seatbelt as Brooks started the car again. The sergeant smirked to himself as he pulled into the station lot, already planning the next stage of the rookie’s training.

Brooks guided Declan out of the car and toward the station, his hand lingering on the rookie’s back in a steady, reassuring gesture. Declan walked beside him, a slight bounce in his step despite the lingering haze from earlier.

As they stepped inside, the buzz of the station enveloped them. A few older officers lounging near the breakroom glanced up, their eyes immediately settling on Declan. Knowing smirks spread across their faces, subtle nods exchanged as Brooks and his rookie passed by.

“Evening, Sergeant,” one of them called out casually, his tone dripping with amusement.

“Evening,” Brooks replied with a grin, his voice calm and composed.

Their eyes darted to Declan, whose flushed face and slightly rumpled uniform made him an easy target.

“Rookie’s coming along nicely,” another officer said, his voice low enough that only Brooks caught it.

“Oh, he’s going to be such a good cop,” another muttered, barely hiding his chuckle.

Declan didn’t notice the teasing, too focused on walking straight and making his way to the locker room. Brooks kept his hand on Declan’s shoulder, steering him through the space with quiet authority, his expression unreadable but for the faintest trace of satisfaction.

Inside the locker room, Brooks stood back as Declan began unzipping his vest. The younger man’s movements were slow, deliberate, his focus entirely on the mundane task of changing out of his uniform.

“You did well tonight,” Brooks said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the room.

Declan looked up, his face brightening at the praise. “Thank you, sir. I’m just trying to learn as much as I can.”

“You’re learning fast,” Brooks replied, stepping closer and adjusting the collar of Declan’s shirt with deliberate care. “Keep it up, rookie.”

Declan nodded, his chest puffing slightly with pride as he turned back to his locker. Brooks allowed himself one more smirk, the knowing chuckles of the older officers still echoing faintly in his ears.

The rookie had no idea how much he stood out—or how much he was already fitting in.

Brooks leaned against the row of lockers, watching as Declan fumbled slightly with his belt, the rookie’s fingers working the buckle with the kind of earnest determination Brooks found endlessly amusing. When the uniform finally came off, piece by piece, Brooks made no effort to hide his curiosity.

“Go on, rookie,” he said smoothly, gesturing toward the showers. “I’ll handle the report this time. Paperwork’s a pain—you’ll learn it soon enough.”

Declan gave a grateful nod, oblivious to the sharp, appraising look Brooks cast his way as he walked toward the showers, his bare back glistening faintly under the fluorescent lights.

Brooks chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he turned and exited the locker room. The soft hiss of the showers starting echoed behind him, and he smirked to himself as he made his way down the hall to the breakroom.

The moment he stepped inside, the older officers lounging around the table exchanged knowing glances, their smirks widening.

“Back already, Sergeant?” one of them asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Rookie busy cleaning up?” another chimed in, his tone laced with amusement.

Brooks grabbed a cup from the counter, pouring himself a coffee with deliberate slowness. “He’s doing just fine,” he said, his voice calm but with an edge of satisfaction.

“Bet he is,” one officer muttered, earning a round of muffled chuckles from the others.

“Looks like he’s taking to your methods real well,” another added, nudging his partner with a grin. “Real eager, that one.”

Brooks turned, leaning against the counter with his cup in hand, his expression unreadable except for the faint curve of his lips. “He’s going to be a damn good cop,” he said simply, his tone loaded with meaning.

After some time, Declan emerged from the locker room, freshly showered and dressed in his casual clothes. His hair was still damp, and he wore a comfortable, relaxed expression, a quiet smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He stepped into the breakroom, glancing around before his gaze landed on Brooks.

“See you on Monday, rookie,” Brooks said with a playful pat on Declan’s back, his tone light, though there was a certain weight behind it. The kind of weight that suggested there was more than just casual camaraderie between them.

Declan nodded eagerly, still buzzing from the events of the evening. “Yeah, see you then, sir.” He flashed Brooks a smile before turning toward the exit.

A few older officers, who had been quietly chatting nearby, exchanged amused looks as they watched Declan go.

“You’ve got him well trained, Brooks,” one of them commented, his voice teasing but with a note of admiration.

“He’s gonna be a handful,” another officer added with a knowing grin, leaning back in his chair. “He doesn’t even know it yet, but he’s already hooked.”

Brooks chuckled, his eyes narrowing with amusement as he took another sip from his coffee. “He’s got potential. The rookie’ll be fine,” he said, but there was an unmistakable pride in his voice.

“I’m sure he’ll be quite the asset,” the first officer agreed, his tone light but with a hint of admiration. “Takes a special kind of rookie to make it this far.”

Brooks didn’t respond immediately, but his lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. He watched as Declan headed out the door, unaware of the subtle teasing from the older officers around him. He knew his rookie was already on the path to being just the kind of cop Brooks had been looking for.

“Time will tell,” Brooks murmured under his breath, his gaze lingering on the door where Declan had just exited.

[ectoberweekofficial]

Ectober Week 2024

🪄 ✨ Welcome to the Ectober Academy where you will spend a week casting spells, making potions, and sharing your conjured enchantments for all to see! ✨🪄

Each day you have a choice between a short charm, or a longer incantation from your spellbook (or perhaps, for the most daring witches, you can combine them both).

Note: The one-word prompts are not limited to artists, and the two sentence prompts are not limited to writers. Both prompts are available to anyone who wants to try them.

The result of your spell can be in the form of a piece of art, a written story, a musical jingle, a tenacious craft, a silly meme, or whatever your heart desires. All content directly related to the Danny Phantom cartoon is acceptable for this magical challenge. Ships, non-ships, crossovers, angst, fluff—so long as it relates to the show, how you choose to represent these prompts is entirely up to you.

When you are satisfied with your creation, you may post it on Tumblr under the tag #ectoberweek2024 so that we may find it and reblog it here!

Happy Ectober! 👻🎃

[art credit goes to @faerynova - check out her blog and look through her cool art!]

Prompts:

October 25

👻 Graveyard Shift

👻 They found the corpse on a Sunday. So why was Danny Fenton still alive?

October 26

👻 Cornered

👻 Desiree makes all your dreams come true. And Nocturne handles the nightmares.

October 27

👻 Ghost Peeler

👻 He tried to stay in control of his ghost half. He really tried.

October 28

👻 Skeleton Key

👻 Tick, tick, tick. The sound was coming from his core.

October 29

👻 Last Rites

👻 They knew it would kill him. They did it on purpose.

October 30

👻 Tarot

👻 Danny had wondered when he would see his clone again. He never wanted it to be like this.

October 31

👻 Ectology

👻 He thought he'd been prepared to take off the mask on the hazmat suit and see what he looked like underneath. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Check out our Post Guidelines for posting your work, and if you have any questions, feel free to shoot us a DM!

[kuronekoartsblog]

DC original character!

YAAY joining the DC oc club 🤸🏻‍♂️ meet my girl, her name is Meave Marlowe/Stardawn and if that wasn’t clear from the big ass S on her chest she’s a super skjsk

Some lore below for who wants to know more: ⬇️

Human name: Meave Marlowe

Kryptonian name: Mea’el

Age: 21

Meave was abducted by the dominators as a newborn in one of the MANY invasions that happen in metropolis

She was experimented on and they fused her with kryptonian dna, (the aliens were searching a compatible race for it)

It was supposed to be a long time investment, they wanted to create a weapon they could indoctrinate and have full control over.

Kind of like Kon 2.0 but less impatient (Don’t ask me where they found the dna sjkks it’s not clark’s that’s for sure lol)

Superman of course saved the day and she went back in her family’s arms safe and sound.

He didn’t notice though that the damage was already done.

Her kriptonian genes stayed quiet for all of her childood and adolescence apart from random outbursts of strength or things sporadically catching fire.

She’s kinda strange and socially awkward but that’s no alien influence.

She lived a relatively normal life in metropolis and never had a traumatic event that could trigger sleeping Kryptonian genes.

That’s until she moves to gotham to study in gotham art academy!

Like every true gothamite she HAS to get mugged in a dark alley by some lowlife (meta or not doesn’t matter)

It’s a rite of passage!

The shock activated the sleeping genes and BAM she’s not entirely human anymore, oh and she’s also very much not in control of her new powers anymore

Obviously batman and robin are already on it and clark is immediately called to sedate the situation.

Clark and his family will help Meave learn how to use her powers and understand herself better.

The krypotonian name is clark’s courtesy since it’s already been a year since she came in their life and she’s basically a honorary member of the family.

Now that she has a grasp on her general powers (flying is still a work in progress) she thinks it would be selfish not putting them to good use

But she feels left behind when she compares herself to all those young heroes who are already way more skilled than her

[2-dsimp]

===+====+======+== Yandere monster gang

Introducing the incubus

===+====+======+==

Yandere incubus who was clumsily failing his seduction classes and as a last resort the Hell academy sent him to the human realm with one special task in mind which is to seduce and feed off your dreams in order to get the rite of passage into becoming a full fledged member of the Succubi community. A task of which you voluntarily agreed to of course since you’re getting paid either way for the inconvenience.

Yandere incubus who gets flustered at the simplest of touches either from you idly brushing past him or if you’re trying to give him a helping hand with moving his things in as he was required to live in the same housing as you to accomplish his mission training.

Yandere Incubus who gets easily attached to his partner that was assign to him from being seduced by your friendly nature and gets comfortable enough to shamelessly cling onto you and whine whenever you have to leave him to go to work.

Yandere Incubus that gets pouty when being told that you have to hang out with other people other than just him and in retaliation he dives into your dreamscape feeding off your desires until it drains you physically and mentally allowing him to coddle you and nurse you back to health in his possessive embrace.

Yandere incubus that calls you dreamie because you always manage to give him an amazing spectacle from your lovely dreams that he withholds on corrupting with degrees of lewdity since that would be the end of his stay with his precious partner.

Yandere incubus who plays coy and is two faced around those who attempt to steal his darling away from him he’ll actively play the victim and turn everyone against his “aggressor” using his harmless cute facade who couldn’t hurt a fly as a cover up from the truth.

Yandere Incubus that’s addicted to the ideal of being with you and refuses to let this heavenly dream escape his grasp.

[thatshowthingstarted]

Corinthian Whipped Bronze Helmet, 560 BC.

It was discovered in 1930 in the Ria de Huelva, (Spain).

According to the analyses carried out by Dr. Gomez Torga, director of the laboratory of the Mines de la Reunion, in Rio Tinto, it is pure copper, without any kind of alloy.

In any case, this unique piece is one of the most important Greek finds of the Iberian Peninsula. By its location, it must be related to the emporion or commercial factory of Huelva, where numerous remains have appeared that evidenced trade between the Greeks and the Tartesians, which boomed in the middle of the sixth century BC. C, coincides with the date of this helmet, to which elites it would be intended as a weapon of prestige acquired to highlight to society the aristocratic status of its owner.

It was acquired by purchase, by the engineer José Albelda, who later donated it in 1932, to the Royal Academy of History.

Height: 26.6 cm, Width: 33.6 cm

Thickness: between 0.1 cm and 0.4 cm, but reaches 1.3 cm in the nasal defense.

Weight: 1370.5 g.

Indeed, the place of the finding is not too far from where it was recovered, also in a dredging of the River, a famous set of weapons of the Final Bronze, which makes it assumed that all these objects were deposited as exvotes or offerings to the divinity of those waters.

Water represented the passage point of Mas Allá in the Indo-European world, so this kind of offerings could be related to rites of arrival or passage, as can be interpreted another Greek helmet, something earlier, found in the waters of the Guadalete river, on its way through Arcos of the Frontier, which is preserved in the Museum of Jerez.

Source: Royal Academy of History. Text from the Catalogue of the exhibition Treasures of the Royal Academy of History. 2001. Sign written by Martín Almagro Gorbea.

[hivemuthur]

requests masterlist

All requests in one place, a complete list under cut! And here is collection on AO3.

✧ Friends with Consequences - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader Modern University AU about fwb dynamics changing into something more

✧ Hand of the Beholder - mature - viktorxgn!reader where Reader is a sculptor with a sight disability and Viktor is their muse

✧ Five things - mature - viktorxgn!reader where Reader commissions an elevator in the academy only to get stuck in it with Viktor

✧ Lover, You Should've Come Over - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader hurt/comfort/smut, making up after a fight

✧ Cuteness Aggression - mature - viktorxgn!reader Modern AU, about Viktor getting groped by Reader before an event because he's just so fine

✧ I Sink Into Bliss - general - viktorxgn!reader Modern AU, depressed reader, hurt/comfort

✧ ViktorXAutistic!Reader HeadCannons - mature - viktorxgn!reader, fluffy HCs for dating Viktor as a person in the spectrum

✧ Eat Me - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader, Viktor is jealous, therefore: smut, also dom!Viktor

✧ Mendings, Minor and Major - mature - viktorxgn!reader, a bit of angst and fluff referring to disability in intimate situations

✧ Off, off, off, off With Your Hands - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader, Reader looks too good and Viktor learns a lesson

✧ Help me get back to your arms - general - Jayvikxgn!reader, depressed reader comfort

✧ Lay My Hands on Heaven - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader, Dom!Viktor with shibari

✧ Skin - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader, yearning that leads to smut, inspired by Cigarettes After Sex

✧ It Never Entered My Mind - general - viktorxgn!doctor!reader, angst with a vague resolution

✧ Gooey - general - viktorxgn!reader, where Reader is tipsy and tears up when Viktor is out of sight

✧ Teenage Dirtbag - general - viktorxfemale!reader, where Viktor takes Reader to prom

✧ First Rites - mature - viktorxfemale!virgin!reader, where Viktor kisses Reader for the first time

✧ What Brings You In? - explicit - solo viktor, having a really hard night thinking about gn!reader

✧ Hand Me My Lover - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader, needy, just needy

✧ Long Weekend - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader, domestic fluff + morning sex

✧ Come So Close That I Might See - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader, Jayce and Viktor score a grant for their further science developments, silly Viktor offers to throw a party instead of just grabbing beers only for you to come, light AU Modern Era

✧ Someone Barricade The Gates Of Hell - general - viktorxfemale!reader, Viktor takes care of Reader on her period

✧ ViktorXADHD!Reader HeadCannons - general - viktorxgn!reader dating HCs

✧ Mind Holds The Key - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader, where Reader covers her face during sex

✧ Same As It Ever Was - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader, where Reader and Viktor got separated by circumstances and now get to get back to each other

✧ The Heart Below - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader, small chest appreciation

✧ Filth, Unspoken - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader, Reader accidentally slips Viktor some of her love poems about him -> art for this!

✧ V Time’s The Charm - general - viktorxgn!reader, where Reader secretly brings Viktor sweets

✧ Tearjerker - general - viktorxgn!reader, Viktor makes Reader cry unintentionally

✧ Unknown Variable - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader, sex pollen :v

✧ Lips Burn Too - explicit/mature idk - viktorxfemale!reader, they go to the beach and put sunscreen on each other (beach episode if you wish)

✧ (To Speak Or) To Die - general - viktorxgn!reader, Viktor-centric, ANGST, unrequited love

✧ Lips Where Lips Were - explicit - viktorxfemale!reader, panty sniffer Viktor

✧ The Hollow of His Hand - mature - viktorxgn!reader, an ode to Viktor's hands

✧ Restless - explicit - viktorxgn!reader, Viktor keeps a dream diary that you discover

✧ An odd one out: Wait Ten Seconds - explicit - DU x Astarion (BG3)

[lunastrophe]

BG3 Drow Lore 🕷️ Minthara's Childhood

Some thoughts on Minthy's childhood in Menzoberranzan:

🕷️ Assassination Attempt – being almost killed was likely among Minthara's earliest memories: I survived my first assassination attempt while I still suckled at my mother's breast. I tasted her blood that day. She covered my body with her own, and a blade bit deep into her chest, almost puncturing her heart.

We do not know why somebody wanted to kill her - the assassination might be orchestrated by some relative, for example, or some other person who wanted to weaken her mother's position in the family. Minthara was likely important to her (see this post).

🕷️Lessons of Early Childhood – Minthara was being raised by her mother instead of being fostered to some other relative, like it happens with less important drow children: My mother taught me to talk, to walk, and then to kill. I still hope to thank her by teaching her how to die one day. In another line, Minthara says: I had every advantage, and my mother showed me how to survive.

As a female and Baenre, Minthara was infinitely more privileged than many other drow kids in Menzoberranzan – at the same time, though, she lived under enormous pressure, striving to meet her mother's high expectations. A failure meant a punishment, and little Minthara probably quickly learnt that in her world, failures can be deadly.

🕷️ Lessons In Killing? – Minthara most likely started to learn how to survive the perils of Lolth-sworn drow society when she was still very young.

It is quite possible that she scored her first kill before actually reaching adulthood – in one of her lines, when she is asked at what age it is right to set a child upon mortal combat, she answers: The moment it can hold a blade. It may even test its resilience against some common poisons while it is still in the womb.

We do not know if her own mother was building up her resistance to poisons in such a way, but in another line, Minthara says: my mother would have poisoned her own milk to torment me. So... who knows.

🕷️ Protected And Tormented – Minthara says that there was no love between her and her mother. As an adult, she reflects that her mother protected her with one hand and tormented her with the other, and admits that her relationship with her ...may not be the best model to follow.

🕷️ End of Early Childhood – in noble drow families, sons typically start to serve the household when they are around ten years old and when they are sixteen, they are officially recognized as members of their house. During the family meeting in the chapel, they receive the house piwafwi and then their mother - or matron mother of their house - makes decisions about their education and future.

I doubt that daughters of noble drow families need to serve the household as children - but maybe after reaching a suitable age, they start to visit the family chapel, for example, to observe and learn basic duties of priestesses? In case of Minthara, it would probably mean spending some time in the huge, domed chapel of House Baenre.

🕷️ Young Baenre - noble drow girls probably have their own variant of societal rite of passage around their sixteenth birthday, celebrated more grandly than that of noble drow boys. Maybe it is also a formal ceremony in the family chapel, followed by less formal celebrations - maybe even a party? Some drow version of "sweet sixteen"?

If yes - then most likely during this ceremony it was officially announced that Minthara is to be trained as a soldier in Lolth's service. It was probably one of the most important moments in her life, especially since noble females are typically trained to be priestesses - if they want to pursue a different career, they need their matron mother's permission. House Baenre apparently recognized Minthara's talents early.

Minthara's early training lasted for several decades - until she enrolled into academy.

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

[riteacademyblog]

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[popponn]

dating consultations. [nagi seishiro x f!reader]

notes: it's like 'wow feelings eh' read in elmo voice. then add my nagi phase and my recent obsession with childhood friend!nagi, it turns out like this. warnings: mentions (in a very unserious way) and (manga esque) depiction of break up at the end (not between you and nagi), mentions of bunch of break ups on your part, pinning, childhood friends + gaming buddies (?), obliviousness, post canon au, minor cursing. wo/ta/koi influenced this in some ways.

“Nagi Seishiro, listen to me,” you began.

“Don’t wanna,” Nagi replied, without lifting his head from his phone.

“So, I think my boyfriend broke up with me after finding out I spent money on gacha game,” you continued on, ignoring Nagi’s refusal. “I mean, sure, that's not a good financial decision. But hey, my husband gotta go home somehow and it's like an extra money that I already planned to spend anyway. Don't you get it?”

“No, I don't.”

“Exactly—but you see, I also think that he was honest, and what bothered him the most is because he found out that you and I play better in another game that he also played…” you trailed off at a sudden, more unpleasant that appeared in your mind. “…Seishiro, if I suddenly kick you out of the leaderboard’s number one spot, you will still be my friend right?”

“Nope,” Nagi replied without missing a beat. Like a rite of passage, you knew what came afterward would make you angry. “Your aim at FPS sucks way too much for that to happen.”

Immediately, you heaved out a short huff. You then threw your body over Nagi’s quickly, cuddling the soft blanket draped over him and enjoying the soft detergent scent left on it. Whining and protesting, you “Cheer me up, you brat! I raised you on my back since kindergarten and this is how you repay me?! We grew up in the same litter—spare some sympathy for me!”

(Seishiro found his whole body stiffening when you buried your face on his shoulder and pressed your chest towards his arm. Through the blanket, he could faintly feel your warmth and body. Five years ago, this would have been something he would brush off without batting an eye. Having crushes on oblivious childhood friends who only saw you as childhood buddies is hard—Seishiro noted dully.)

“Eh, why?” Nagi questioned back, blankly, focus still drilled on the PVP shooting game he was on. “This is your…how many breaks up it had been already?”

“…I know your social IQ is low, but can you stop rubbing salt over my wounds?”

“Anyway, don’t you think you break up way too often already to feel hurt?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…ah,” Nagi mindlessly cut the silence between the two of you. “That headshot was dirty.”

“…you are really bad at this whole cheering up thing,” you chided, sounding all too fond for it to have any effect at all. “And stop making me sound like some Whatpad bad boy.”

(From the corner of his sight, Seishiro saw a small smile etched itself on your lips. It was still too bittersweet for his liking, but at least after this—like always, as Seishiro had come to remember after all this time, without willing to—you would cheer up and stop talking about your nth ex. You wouldn’t sulk anymore and go on with whatever else except some guy who happened to be your ex.)

“Didn’t you say you want to be one, back in middle school?” Nagi questioned. “Also hurry up and log in, I need to grind for new artifacts.”

“That was middle school!” you screeched, feeling your whole head heating up due to some embarrassing flashbacks. “And you are still playing another game—I will log in later—”

“I’m done,” Nagi said, perfectly timed with the winning screen his phone displayed. “Log in. Hurry. Hurry.”

You glared dirtily at Nagi and his timing—or luck, whichever it was this time. “I hate you. Also, use Al-Haizen and Seno, I want the full ikemen academy team today.”

“Their synergy is shit.”

“And they are handsome. Your point?”

“I don’t wanna.”

“I will curse you with all defense and flat sub stat if you dare.”

“…that’s awful,” Nagi said, finally. His defeat was imminent from the start.

You sent him a wolfish smile, “And I’m still your only gaming buddy. Shush and just log in, big koala.”

“The one who is stuck on my back is you,” Nagi commented, while still following your words and changing his team before requesting to go to your map.

You laughed as you pressed your phone. With a certain brand of closeness laced in your voice, you protested, “Why are you this nosy with me? Last time I checked you are pretty obedient to Mikage, Isagi, and your captain.”

(Seishiro tried to process your words for a moment. To him, the answer has always been obvious in the way that both you and him even bothered to stick close to each other even as the two of you approached the age of twenty together. In how the one you told everything to is still him despite everyone in your life. In how if you ask, he will walk through the city just to pick you up after a terrible date and walk side by side to your home.)

Nagi stayed silent for a moment. From his side profile—adorable, handsome, yet still as baby-faced and familiar as ever—you could see how he was thinking. Then, he offered you an answer in a half-baked, dry tone, “…because it’s you?”

Once again, you laughed. Trying to swallow whatever odd beat his answer managed to draw from your heart deep and away from your face. “Gosh—watch your wording, Sei—oh, you are in already. Let’s go artifact farming! If it’s shitty let it just be Seishiro’s and not mine!”

As you hurriedly pressed your screen, you tried to not realize Nagi’s stare from your side.

You were not ready yet to admit whatever you felt for him was real. This was only a side effect of consecutive terrible break ups.

That was it and nothing else.

(”I don’t think I am the one you are in love with,” your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—told you gently. This was yet another same reason, just told to you in a gentler, more understanding way.

You could only watch him silently. You were confused, yet a part of you somehow managed to understand what he meant. However, you still couldn’t put what it was into words despite all that.

“..well, I don’t think you do it by purpose,” the man in front of you said with a nervous laugh. “…nonetheless, I’m rooting for the two of you. Don’t make him wait for too long, okay?”

Hearing that, even if you still couldn’t grasp much yet, you forced yourself to respond through your tears. “…I’m sorry...?”

“Don’t be. It should be me, really.” Ever the nice guy, your ex-boyfriend still smiled. “This is more of me saving myself from hurting in the future… just, think of it as me being bitter for being worse than you and that childhood friend of yours in that shooting game, okay?”

You laughed bitterly at that. Your crying hadn’t ceased yet, yet you managed out another reply, “Seriously? You are a shitty nice guy.”

Still smiling, your ex—a good friend, a gentle person, a diligent worker—gave you a chuckle that sounded guilty. “…sorry. I really hope we can still remain friends after this.”

“Of course. No way I’m letting go of a star student as a group project member just because of a breakup,” you joked, even if you were unsure of the future. Then, remembering how he is, you added, “And get your ugly mug off my sight now. We are breaking up—stop smiling, you bastard.”

“…well, then… should I… accompany you home…?”

“You are my ex now—no way, nice guy,” you shut him off quickly. Then, after a pause, it felt like an answer as you continued.

“…I will just call Nagi. Go away.”)

[coochiequeens]

Women’s history just became even richer

By Marco Margaritoff | Edited By John Kuroski

Published March 14, 2025

Items found with the skeletons — including iron arrowheads, horse harnesses, and a broken vase — helped researchers trace back the burial to the 4th century B.C.

Institute of Archaeology RASThe oldest woman found in the grave wore a calathos, which is a ceremonial headdress.

Archaeologists in Russia have uncovered the remains of four Amazon women of different ages buried in the same tomb. According to CNN, this is the first time in history that such a discovery has been made.

Published by the Institute of Archaeology of the Russian Academy of Sciences, a new study estimates one girl to have been between 12 and 13 years old when she died. The second was aged 20 to 29, the third was 25 to 35, and the fourth was 45 to 50.

The tomb itself was built from clay and oak blocks.

Items discovered at the burial site — iron arrowheads, a bird-shaped hook made of iron, horse harnesses, harness hooks, iron knives, animal bones, various vessels, and a broken, black vase — all helped researchers estimate the burial to have taken place during the 4th century B.C.

This suggests the warrior women were Scythians, who were ancient warriors living throughout Siberia between 200 and 900 B.C. Female Scythians, in turn, were Amazons — and the inspiration behind Wonder Woman.

The more magical elements, of course, have yet to be discovered.

Institute of Archaeology RASThe excavation took place at a cemetery called Devitsa V, which contains 19 burial mounds.

This remarkable find took place at a cemetery in the Voronezh region of Russia called Devitsa V. The site is comprised of 19 burial mounds, and has been studied since 2010. It took an entire decade, however, for the Don Archaeological Society of the RAS to excavate these specific remains.

“The Amazons are common Scythian phenomenon and during the last decade our expedition has discovered approximately 11 burials of young armed women,” said Valerii Guliaev, head of the expedition.

“Separate barrows were filled for them and all burial rites which were usually made for men were done for them.”

The ancient personal items of this stunning discovery carry with them priceless ancient information that clarifies just how these people lived, millennia ago. While the girl and one of the young woman’s graves were ravaged by robbers in ancient times, the other graves were left undisturbed.

One young woman was buried as a “horseman,” which meant her body underwent a rather macabre tradition that includes cutting the tendons in the legs. Underneath her left shoulder was a bronze mirror, two spears, and a glass bead bracelet along her left side and hand.

At her legs laid a one-armed drinking cup and a dish adorned with a black lacquer design.

In addition to the headdress, many other priceless artifacts were also found.

The average life expectancy for a Scythian woman was between 30 and 35, making the oldest woman’s age at the time of death impressive enough. The calathos, or ceremonial headdress adorned with floral ornamented plates and pendants, however, was just as surprising.

The jewelry she was buried with was 65 to 70 percent gold, with copper, silver, and iron comprising the rest. Scythian jewelry has previously been found to contain far less gold. She was also buried with an iron knife that was wrapped in fabric, and an iron arrowhead with a forked end.

The researchers explained that the headdress was shocking to find, as so few of them even survived the burial itself, not to mention the years before people dug them up. Archaeologists typically find mere fragments of these calathos, rather than entirely preserved ones.

Besides the intriguing, ancient objects found in the middle of Siberia, the fact that no one has ever found for Amazons buried in the same grave before makes this rather exciting. There’s no telling what researchers will find in the remaining mounds at Devitsa V.

After learning about the ancient Scythian Amazon warrior women being uncovered in Russia, read about the Slavic warrior woman buried with weaponry in a Danish Viking cemetery. Then, learn about the ancient warrior woman unearthed in Armenia who may have been an Amazon.

[senualothbrok]

Hello! I'm Senua! 🤗

Welcome to my world! 👋

Commission by @demiesop

I am obsessed with Gale Dekarios and Baldur's Gate 3. I also love animals (especially dogs, cats and horses), tattoos / neotrad art, haiku, and existentialism. This post pretty much sums up who I am, and this post goes into my writing journey!

I am currently prioritising writing my original novel, a literary fantasy story.

I have written a collection of BG3 fics, mainly about Gale. Most of them are angst, hurt/comfort, and smut (Gale x Tav/OC/reader). I have made some memes about Gale brainrot. I love visual art and supporting artists.

Below the cut, you can find a list of my work and an assortment of things I love. You can also find me on AO3. I have a Ko-fi account if you want to buy me a coffee for something you enjoyed reading.

I'd love to get to know you, so please feel free to pop me an ask or message with any comments, questions, or requests! Just don't be a hater. I'm not into those.

--------------------

Fics

Enough (Non-18+. Astarion x female Tav. Angst. Trauma and recovery.)

You agreed to help Astarion with the Rite of Profane Ascension, but you can't watch him go through with it. You interrupt the ritual, and Astarion turns on you. Now, you must deal with the aftermath of your actions.

Love and Beauty (Non-18+. Non-ascended Astarion x female Tav. References to bereavement.)

A few days after Astarion has taken you to his grave, you are lying in bed together. You decide it's time to make a confession.

Rest (Non-18+. Gale x female Tav. Hurt/comfort.)

You have defeated the Netherbrain and survived. But when Gale asks you to marry him, you find that you cannot accept his offer.

Content (Non-18+. Gale x Tav. Mild hurt/comfort. Fluff.)

After the reunion party, Gale wonders whether you regret choosing him over Astarion.

Prayer (Non-18+. God!Gale. Gale x Tav. Heavy angst. Grief/mourning.)

The God of Ambition has returned to Elysium, and you did not follow him. You grieve for Gale, and you struggle to move on with your life.

A Show of Love (18+. NSFW. Gale x female reader/Tav. Smut.)

Sometimes, Gale doesn't seem sure how much you love him. So you decide to show him.

Words (18+. NSFW. Gale x female reader/Tav. Smut.)

At your home in Waterdeep, you and Gale recall the early stages of your relationship.

Progress (Non-18+. Professor Gale x female OC. Angst. Mental illness and recovery.)

When you start your studies at Blackstaff Academy, you expect a battle with your demons. But the last thing you expect is to fall in love.

Promise (Non 18+. Professor Gale x female OC. Angst with a happy ending. Mental illness and recovery.)

Gale learns what it means to love and be loved. Sequel to Progress.

A Brush With Danger (Non 18+. Gale x female Tav.)

Anon prompt: Gale's thoughts and feelings before his infamous declaration in the Shadow-Cursed Lands.

Unexpected (18+. NSFW. Professor Gale x female reader/Tav. Smut.)

You pay Gale an unexpected visit after one of his classes.

Absolution (Non-18+. God!Gale. Gale x Tav. Angst.)

The God of Ambition considers the last of his attachments. Sequel to Prayer.

The Difference (Non-18+. AU (reverse isekai). Gale x female Tav/OC. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Mental health issues.) Multichapter.

When a portal appears in your living room and Gale Dekarios tumbles out of it, you think you are going insane. But truth is stranger than fiction, and things are rarely what they seem.

Mortal pleasures (18+. NSFW. Smut. Gale x female Tav/reader.)

Gale has shown you how gods bond in the astral. Now, you show him how good mortal pleasures can be.

Revelation (18+. NSFW. Smut. Gale x female OC.)

Gale shows Aurora she has nothing to hide. Sequel to Progress and Promise.

Open Hands, Open Hearts (Non-18+. Gale x female Tav. Mild hurt/comfort.)

With the Netherbrain defeated and the companions about to go their separate ways, Gale decides to be honest about his feelings for Tav.

Remembrance (Non-18+. Professor Gale x female Tav. Angst.)

In Waterdeep, Tav journeys through grief and loss, with Gale by her side.

Oath of Devotion (Non-18+. Professor Gale x female Tav. Mild hurt/comfort.)

When you accompany Karlach to Avernus after the defeat of the Netherbrain, you assume it is the end of your romance with Gale. But you have a lot to learn about the meaning of devotion.

Come What May (Non-18+. Gale x female Tav. Angst (with a happy ending). References to trauma, grief, and suicidal ideation.)

On what Gale believes is his last night alive, you cannot give him your body. But there are countless ways to declare love, and infinite ways to express it.

Nocturnal Postulations (Non-18+. Gale x Tav. Fluff.)

Response to prompt: Tav gets grumpy when sleep-deprived. Gale sleep talks a lot and then jokes about it.

Carried Away (18+. NSFW. Smut. Gale x female Tav/reader.)

Response to prompt: good old fashioned 'boring' bed sex with Gale.

Here (Non-18+. Gale x reader/Tav. Hurt/comfort).

After you rescue Gale from Orin's lair, he has some things to work through. You show him he is not alone.

A Tight Fit (18+. Smut. Gale x female Tav/reader)

You and Gale are trapped in a locked room, with no space to move.

Research (18+. NSFW. Smut. Gale x Mia (female OC from The Difference))

Gale and Mia do some very vigorous research.

A Generous Portion (Non-18+. Gale x female Tav/reader)

Gale is a flustered mess after you are locked in a room together. Sequel to A Tight Fit.

A Perfect Storm (18+. NSFW. Smut. Gale x female Tav/reader)

You and Gale give in to your passions, but there are some obstacles along the way. Sequel to A Tight Fit and A Generous Portion.

The Tree (Non-18+. Gale x Mia (female OC from The Difference).

Gale decorates Mia's Christmas tree.

Other writing

My Tulpa - a personal reflection on what Gale means to me, and what it means to love him

System Error - a poem on a hard day

Ember - honest feelings about love

Collaborations

Two Monks, Two Gales

The adventures of a pair of polar opposite Monastery-siblings and their same-person-different-version Gales

Celebrating monk Tavs and East Asian culture with @inglorionamy-ammy

* Vegetarianism 茹素 (1)

* Vegetarianism 茹素 (2)

Gale's Compundium

A magical collection of Gale's best puns, with a sprinkling of chibi Gales

Adoring the socks off our dorky wizard with @dekariosclan

Drabble tennis

Gale-based to and from drabbles with the magnificent writer extraordinaire @theletteraesc

* Hands

* Asking for help

* Introverts

* Undiagnosed sorcerer

* Pillow talk

* Challenge accepted

* A lover and a fighter

* Sleepy, dishevelled and hungry

Memes

I occasionally make Gale-related memes because I think I'm funny 💀

* The inside of my brain

* When your soul mate is a pixel man

* Smooching Gale - the struggle

* Gale porn is therapeutic

* Fic vs therapy

* Gale's chest hair

* Trying

* Every day I wake up

* I don't get it

* Fictiophilia

* Horny on main

* Drawing Gale

* Evil endings

* Happiness is

* Can't let go

Doodles

I'm not very good, but I am trying 🤦🏻‍♀️

* Bite that wizard

* Infodump on me, baby

* Smiles and smirks

* Why so serious

* Chibi Gales

My OCs

I like to make things about my OCs, because who doesn't? 🥰

All the picrews

I self indulgently made picrews of most of my Tavs/OCs, and there are a lot

Mia Zhang (from The Difference)

* Playlist

* Picrew of Gale x Mia

* This or That

* Nine things

* Five songs/outfits

* Another picrew of Gale x Mia

Aurora Dekarios nee Wintertal (from Progress, Promise and Revelation)

* Picrew of Gale x Aurora

* This or That

* Dressing up

* Mood board

Tav (from Open Hands, Open Hearts)

* Picrew

* Patron saint

Gifts

* My dear friend @dolceaspidenera made some wonderful gifsets of Gale x Aurora from Progress and Promise. They are so beautiful, I still haven't recovered from them.

* Lovely @mahiiimahiiii made a beautiful piece of art inspired by The Difference, which overwhelms me with so many feels.

* My beloved @practicallydeadinside-blog gifted me a cameo from national treasure Tim Downie explaining why Gale is so shredded and it changed my life.

* I commissioned one of my favourite artists @demiesop to draw Gale and Mia from The Difference, and Gale and Aurora from Promise, and she truly delivered. She has also done an epic chibi masterpiece of the companions which gives me such joy.

* Tim Downie kindly did a beautiful reading of Gale and Mia's wedding vows from The Difference, which I treasure so much.

* Wonderful @alpydk wrote a heartrending poem dedicated to Elspeth from The Difference. I'm beyond amazed.

* For my birthday, amazing @inglorionamy-ammy did a beautiful tribute not only to Gale and Tara but to my best buddy George who passed away. I cherish it.

* @inglorionamy-ammy and I had an unhinged conversation about trading a liver for Gale to become real and she made this hilarious comic on the back of it. I love her.

* I was very lucky to get a commission from @ym523 of my Tav and Gale having some spicy time together.

* The wonderful @thycatsays has written a beautiful sequel to The Difference called Divenire. It is truly excellent, and such an honour to enjoy this.

* @colorisandoo did a beautiful commission of Mia from The Difference which I love a lot.

* Come and admire this transcendent render of my Tav and Gale by @brabblesblog, and this lovely solo portrait of my Tav.

* @alpydk had Tim Downie read a passage from My Tulpa. I don't have words to explain how much this means to me.

[electronickingdomfox]

The Kobayashi Alternative (or the 1000 deaths of James T. Kirk)

Finished this game (a text adventure) recently, and oh God, what a glorious mess it was!

The frame story (which only appears in the manual, by the way) places you as a Starfleet Academy cadet, playing a simulation of one of Kirk's famous missions, as a sort of alternative to the infamous Kobayashi Maru test (hence the title). But the actual game revolves around Kirk's mission, trying to find Sulu, who has disappeared in the Trianguli sector. And you're given complete freedom to explore the area and planets in whatever order you choose, and to mess the game in whatever way you want.

And that's my main point of interest here. I've witnessed so, SO many deaths for poor Kirk, because of my ill-advised decisions... Falling into craters, being run over by lava from a (not-so-extinct) volcano, sinking in quicksand, being eaten by a dragon, falling into a moat (and then being eaten), beaming down to a planet with a temperature of -250° in just my uniform (because why not?), or the more gruesome version of beaming down to a no-atmosphere planet without a spacesuit. It's also possible to return to Earth without finishing the mission, just like that, which gets you court-martialed. Or beam down some unsuspecting redshirt to a dangerous area, and to his unavoidable death (which here causes a Game-Over, very much unlike the series). Want to swear at someone until the crew arrests you for bad conduct? Check. *For the record, these are the swear words I found to work: bitch, bastard, suck, c*ck, f*ck, ass (use them in any combination you see fit). There's also many crazy things to do, which don't necessarily lead to a game over. Leave poor Scotty stranded on a planet and depart without him (good luck when you need something from Engineering). Or make Spock mindmeld with clay. Or tell McCoy to enter Spock's quarters, and just leave him there for the rest of the game. There's a planet with aliens that are offended by clothes and will put you in jail for wearing them (well, this is inaccurate, because James Tits-Out Kirk would definitely beam down naked, if it would help the mission... and make sure to video-call Spock right before doing so).

Anyway, despite being a primitive game from 1985, I'm impressed by the sheer amount of possibilities and open-ended options in this game. The graphic adventures from the 90's (25th Anniversary, and specially Judgement Rites) are much, much better games overall. But I wanted to talk a bit about these, more obscure text adventures.

If anyone's interested in playing them, I've found the best way is through this custom installer here, which includes all three adventures: https://collectionchamber.blogspot.com/p/star-trek-first-contact.html It automatically runs the games through an emulator for modern systems, and has the last version of Kobayashi Alternative (which is very important, since previous versions were buggy as hell). First Contact uses the same engine of Kobayashi, but since it's a much linear and smaller game, it's obvious a lot of options go un-used. The Promethean Prophecy is a more traditional text adventure. It has some ingenious puzzles, but I found its typical plot of "go there and collect gems" less Trek-like.