#cadet cobalt

[cc-cobalt-1043]

I'm going to hell for sure:

Cadet Crosshair: don't worry, if I die I'll be looking up at you very fondly

Cadet Cobalt: looking up

Cadet Crosshair: oh yeah, I'm going to hell for sure

[inky-writing]

Hi there! I was wondering if you would consider writing about a petite reader, similar to violet but not quite as frail x Garrick. Maybe like he helps train her for challenges or something like that?

Thank you :)

Of course!! Here it is!!! I hope you like it :)

Garrick Tavis x reader

Warnings: some typos maybe

Word count: 719

The training grounds hummed with the sound of clashing weapons and heavy breaths, but Garrick Tavis’s attention was focused on the figure in front of him. She moved with a surprising fluidity, her small frame deceptive. She was no Violet Sorrengail, less prone to injury, more determined to prove herself despite the odds stacked against her, but still, a fragile thing compared to the towering giants who filled the Riders Quadrant.

“Keep your feet apart,” Garrick said, his voice rough as he stepped behind her, adjusting the grip of the sword in her hands. “If you lose your footing, you’re dead.”

She nodded, her face a full of concentration as her fingers tightened around the hilt. Her name escaped his lips far too often these days, softly spoken in encouragement or barked as a command. She wasn’t a natural at combat, but she had heart. Every time she fell, she got back up, bruised and determined.

At first, he’d thought her tenacity was foolish. But now? It was something he couldn’t help but admire.

“You’re doing better,” he found himself saying after she executed a clean strike, her blade cutting through the air. The small smile she shot him in response caught him off guard, warmth blooming in his chest.

“Better doesn’t mean good,” she replied, her voice light but self-deprecating.

Garrick huffed, crossing his arms. “Good is a long way off, but you’ll get there.”

As the days blurred together, Garrick saw her transform. She learned to fight with more precision, more grit. She listened, adapted, and, against all odds, thrived in the chaos of the gauntlet. Watching her climb the walls and dodge the deadly traps with the agility of someone twice her strength had been both nerve-wracking and exhilarating. When she crossed the finish line, battered but victorious and alive, Garrick had felt a pride that he wasn’t sure he’d earned.

Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped thinking of her as just another cadet. She wasn’t a burden or a project anymore. She was her. Her determination, her quiet resilience, her sharp wit, it was impossible not to be drawn to her. And now, as the Threshing approached, Garrick found himself in a state of constant anxiety.

Dragons didn’t care about heart or determination. They cared about strength and power. And as much as she had grown, Garrick feared it wouldn’t be enough.

He wasn’t there when it happened, and the waiting nearly drove him mad. Every moment stretched into an eternity, his imagination filling in the gaps with horrors. What if all the dragons rejected her? What if they killed her? Or worse, what if she failed to survive the bonding itself?

When the bell tolled, Garrick bolted for the arena. His heart thundered in his chest as the first bonded riders began returning, their dragons’ massive forms filling the sky with shadow and fire. He scanned the horizon frantically, barely breathing until he saw her.

She was alive.

She dismounted a sleek, cobalt-blue dragon with grace, but he didn’t care about her poise. She was there, whole, breathing, alive. Relief slammed into him like a physical force, and before he could stop himself, he was running.

“Garrick?” Her voice was soft, tinted with disbelief, but he didn’t let her say anything more.

He cupped her face with calloused hands and kissed her. It was desperate and raw, a culmination of weeks of worry and unspoken feelings. She froze for a moment, and then she melted into him, her hands gripping his tunic as if to anchor herself.

When he finally pulled away, their foreheads touched, both of them breathing hard.

“You made it,” he said hoarsely, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions.

“I told you I would,” she whispered, her lips curving into a soft smile that stole the breath from his lungs.

Garrick shook his head, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re dramatic,” she shot back, but there was no heat in her words, just warmth.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her close as the chaos of the arena swirled around them. For the first time in weeks, he felt something other than fear. Hope. Maybe, just maybe, they’d make it through this war together.

[missbubblesoda]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (26)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 3k

Perfumed breeze tickled your bare shoulders and sweet wine swayed inside clinking glasses, soft music lured twosomes to the dance floor, and the golden midday sun shone brighter than ever, as if making some sort of grand entrance, stepping into the courtyard like a guest of honor, blinding your eyes until they could no longer see anything around. Only the shadows and the shapes, and the bluest sky painted behind him.

And speaking about the sky, it had evidently dressed to match him that morning, from the cobalt pocket square peeking out of his morning coat to the corresponding silk tie obediently waiting on his chest; without forgetting, of course, about the crystalline sapphires embedded in his face, because in all honesty, who could forget? How could anyone overlook that heavenly blue of his eyes, iridescent at times, dreamily reflecting back all your favorite colors whenever they stared into yours. Just like they were right now, opportunely reminding you of secret moments spent inside some mountain castle down south; and the pleasant warmth that radiated from your chest at the thought made your lips curve into the same kind of smile his were wearing: knowing and conspiratorial. And you wondered if he found it overpowering too, the need to melt into each other’s arms.

His fleshy lips, appetizing as ever, parted slightly at the sight before him, his eyes methodically exploring first your features and then the colorful flowers on your dress, as if counting them, as if you were a coveted treasure seized from an enemy beyond the walls; his chest expanding as he took the type of deep, steadying breath that usually precedes life-altering statements. And then, when a labored ‘wow’ was all that left his lips, an amused chuckle escaped yours. You found it funny, to think those were the same lips that always knew what to say, the authors of the compelling speeches he used to motivate his men out there on the field or secure funds from closefisted aristocrats. And now, those same lips that not too many seasons back, had convinced a bunch of frightened kids to dedicate their hearts to a suicidal cause, had stopped working with nothing but a smile frozen on them. But that wasn’t a problem, given how eloquently his eyes were, instead, delivering the biggest compliments a lady could ever receive.

“Commander Smith.” You smiled teasingly, sending a courteous nod his way as you extended a hand for him to take.

“My lady.” He greeted back, his unusual wording eliciting another chuckle from you, because suddenly, it felt as if you were meeting for the first time again, as if you were the center characters in one of those romance novels your mother kept hidden under her mattress, as if some sort of magical encounter was taking place in the middle of Lord Koch’s garden.

He took the hand you were offering and brought it to his lips, where it remained for what, some would say, way longer than tradition stipulated. And all the while, you could feel him smiling against your fingers, his soothing breath keeping them warm, and the gentle stroke of his thumb against your skin sending a playful shiver straight to your core.

Some would say, probably the same people whose eyes were currently glued to the two of you, that ten thirty in the morning was too early for one’s mind to drift to the kind of inappropriate places yours was; but the thing is, they didn’t know about the wonderful things those lips could do nor the incredible delight those thighs could provide: muscular, well-developed, gift-wrapped in grey silk…or was it wool? If you could touch them, you’d be able to tell. But then again, that would be highly inappropriate for a garden party, wouldn’t it?

When his lips reluctantly let go of your hand, his fingers decided not to, choosing to stay wrapped around yours instead, gentlemanly accompanying them as if to see their safe arrival to your lap.

“Forgive my lips.” He smiled dazedly, eyes still lost in yours. “But it’s in familiar tastes where they find the greatest pleasure.”

That kind of apology suggested that he’d also noticed the inquisitive stares emerging all around you, stares that, at the moment, you didn’t have the mental disposition to concern yourself with, not when his words, as well as the evocative tone used to deliver them, were making your insides bubble in a dangerous cocktail of excitement and pleasure; a pleasure that quickly began to drip from deep within, like champagne spilling from the glass, drowning any other thought until all you could think about was how bad you wanted to pull him to a secret corner, sit on his lap and glide your fingers through that perfectly smooth hair of his, slicked back and neatly combed, desperately asking to be messed up.

“My lady?” He smirked playfully, a gesture that suggested he was probably very aware of the mess he was causing between your legs, a mess you hoped he would be so kind as to take care of later.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Commander Smith.” You replied calmly, your lips curving up in mischief. “At the moment, I feel like overindulging in familiar tastes myself.” You held his gaze boldly, unashamed to acknowledge all the things he could do to your body with his words only.

“Is that so?” He asked enticingly, taking a step closer and then another, his eyes locked so intently on their target as his face came just mere inches away from yours. “My princess shall never have to wait.” His lips whispered softly, only for the two of you to hear. “To indulge in whatever pleasure she craves.” He concluded, his husky voice more animalistic than human, the tantalizing woods and musks of his cologne intoxicating your senses, numbing them, clouding your mind until you could no longer think about anything, at least not anything that wasn’t his lips or the forbidden nights you spent together with them in his office, under the covers of secrecy. Was he about to pull those covers down with a kiss?

The logical part of you was certain he wouldn’t, but logic and rationality were not enough to stop the rest of your body from wishing he would. Especially your lips, they didn’t care that your parents were around somewhere, they didn’t care if they fainted the moment they saw their darling daughter kissing a man she had not been promised to; they didn’t care if, for the following weeks, you became the topic of the conversations all those fine ladies, who were now attentively staring at the two of you, would be enjoying with their afternoon tea. You and your lips cared about none of that.

But you knew he did.

And you knew him too well.

That’s why you weren’t really surprised when his fingers ignored the blushing cheeks he liked to hold when he kissed you, and reached for the back of your head instead, gently hooking the butterfly pin like a crown on a princess’ head. What surprised you, however, was that he knew the exact same spot where your mother had placed it that morning. Almost as if this wasn’t the first time he’d seen you today. And you wondered if that could be the case.

But before your mind could start speculating, he took a step back, a disarming smile painted on his handsome features as he offered you his arm to hold.

“May I?”

You smiled with delight, not hesitating a second to wrap both hands around the hard, unyielding muscles of his arm, letting them guide you to the other end of the courtyard. As you made it past grey-haired gentlemen who nodded back at him and blue-blooded ladies who were trying to exchange discreet glances with each other, you stroked his biceps subtly, eager for everyone to know that you were with him today, and that no, he wasn’t available for discussing work-related matters at the moment, much less dancing with anybody else. The gentlemen would have to wait until he was back at the office on Monday; and the ladies, well…their business would have to wait even longer. Because today, you looked up and smiled back at the man beside you, today he was with you.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite contrarian!” Lord Koch’s exclaimed overjoyed once you reached the north pavilion, his tall frame approaching his friend with open arms. “Erwin! Glad you could make it.”

“Hansel.” The Commander patted his back congratulatory. “Wouldn’t miss an opportunity to celebrate a good friend.”

“My lady.” Lord Koch nodded politely at you once he was done greeting his friend.

“I came to greet you earlier, but Lord Angert told me that you and Madam Augusta were yet to arrive.” The Commander turned to the plush, jovial-looking lady beside his friend, who you assumed to be Mrs. Koch. “Madam Augusta.”

“Erwin! I’m so glad you could join us!” She exclaimed, also overjoyed and using the exact same tone Lord Koch had, albeit a few scales higher. According to your mother, the Kochs had been married since their academy days, and engaged since even before that. No wonder they sounded exactly like each other. “I asked Hansel if you’d be joining us this morning.” She smiled beamingly, taking the Commander’s hand in hers. “I warned him that if he didn’t go deliver the invitation in person, you wouldn’t come. He didn’t want to go at first, but I ma-”

“Augusta.” Lord Koch cleared his throat, flashing an uncomfortable smile at the Commander, who looked at you amusedly, gifting you with one of those light-hearted chuckles that always sounded like honey in your ears, and you giggled back.

“You’re never too busy to visit a friend.” Mrs. Koch said, smiling beamingly and naively, her expressive eyes making you realize she looked exactly like the fairy godmothers they drew on picture books. “Your father knows that very well, dear.” You blinked in confusion, thinking about the Commander’s late father before noticing she was looking at you instead. “He never misses a Wednesday, that conspiracy theory club is going to cause the demise of so many I know.” She squinted her eyes at her husband.

“Augusta.” Lord Koch cleared his throat again.

So the club was still a thing, only they moved it to Wednesdays instead.

“Oh Hansel, please. You don’t believe there is someone, even a single soul, at this party who doesn’t know about that little society of yours. Do you?” She chortled giddily when she saw you nodding in agreement. “Anyhow, it both pleases me and surprises me that someone has at long last managed to conquer this man’s heroically large yet forebodingly rebellious heart.” She said contentedly, smiling at the Commander and then at you.

“Augusta, the lady is his assistant.”

“Oh, my bad!” She feigned embarrassment, her eyes darting from the Commander to you, and then back to him, a knowing smile blossoming on her lips as soon as she caught glance of the comfortable way in which your hands were wrapped around his arm, almost as if they were more than fairly acquainted with his body. “What a shame, her angelic smile and Erwin’s dreamy blues would make for beautiful offspring.” She said with mirth, giggling enthusiastically as her expressive eyes awaited a reaction from you.

But you had nothing for her, at least not anything you could show her without incriminating yourself, so you just lowered your head, looking down at the glossy marble tiles in an attempt to hide both your burning cheeks as well as the little smile that started to take over your lips at the thought of their chubby fingers tugging at your skirt; their angelic blue eyes gleaming with happiness whenever their cute button noses caught a whiff of the little somethings you loved baking for them; their excited little feet making the cabin’s floorboards creak on their way to the front door, your way of knowing that he was back.

No, Mrs. Koch wasn’t the only one. You had thought about it too. Goodness, your pen knew just how much; she remembered about every single time you had forced her to stop right before she could tell your journal about it, because your mother always said that telling your dreams to someone else was the most effective way to curse them into never happening.

“The infamous Nile Dok in the flesh!” Lord Koch’s jovial greeting startled you out of your thoughts, making you raise your head just in time to see Hitch’s boss striding towards you. “Today is really one for the books, isn’t it? It’s not every day you get to see both your favorite commanders together in one place.” He said delightedly, giving the lean, black-whiskered man a welcoming hug, a gesture that showed you just how close they were.

“I just hope Commander Pixis doesn’t find this statement too aggravating.” The Military Police commander said in a monotone voice before turning to Mrs. Koch. “Madam Augusta.”

The feeble smile he had managed to put on for her quickly expired on his lips as soon as he was done shaking her hand, and you couldn’t help but smile when you remembered Hitch’s words: ‘he permanently has the face of someone who hasn’t been able to poop in years.’

“Good to see you, Nile.” Mrs. Koch smiled heartily, her eyes turning into the same crescent moons Leon’s did whenever he smiled, confirming your suspicions that it was indeed a family thing. “Hansel still resents Dot for outsmarting him at the regionals last summer.” She explained amusedly. “A sore ego and a thin skin make it difficult for anyone to forget, never mind forgive.”

“Oh I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. Saw him near the brandy earlier.” Lord Koch motioned with a lazy flick of his hand, the indifference in his otherwise enthused demeanor proving that the hurt ego his wife had mentioned was pretty much there. “Dot did win but I wouldn’t say I was outsmarted. Calling his performance ‘brilliant’, like the press did, would be a stretch.”

“Oh I’m sure this year’s regionals will grant you the rematch that you and your ego so desperately crave. I believe in you, darling.” Madam Augusta rolled her eyes, silently contradicting her words. “Hansel will only accept defeat to this man right here.” She explained, pointing at the Commander, who was now shaking Commander Nile’s hand. “Erwin is truly in a league of his own. Hansel is lucky he doesn’t have the time to compete at the regionals.”

“It is my desire to keep a solid friendship with Hansel what keeps me from playing at the regionals, and not lack of time, Madam.” The Commander said, eliciting joyous laughter from everyone, including Lord Koch himself. “How are Marie and the kids?”

Marie and the-

‘I don’t understand how someone like her ended up marrying my boss.’

Hitch’s voice started ringing somewhere deep inside your head, reminding you of the one thing you’d hoped you could forget.

‘She could have married anyone she wanted.’

She said, the warm spring breeze turning unpleasantly bitter all of a sudden, bringing back memories of that snowy winter afternoon spent with your best friend, not too long ago.

‘Eyes bluer than the summer sky, porcelain skin. A goddess.’

She continued, as if listing the participation requirements for a very prestigious competition, one you really wanted to win, but felt you’d already lost.

‘Gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe her-’

‘…beautiful falls short-’

‘…stunning doesn’t do her justice.”

Her words grew louder the more she spoke, eventually turning into a sharp hissing that threatened to break your skull into a million pieces.

‘Apparently, they used to be close friends back in the day, all three of them…’

No.

‘Both, your boss and mine..’

No. You didn’t want to remember.

‘…were completely smitten with her.’

The last sentence painfully reverberated in your ears, each word feeling like shards piercing through your eardrums, like an unpleasantly loud and very discordant crowd of cicadas making your ears bleed, as they announced the end of the most beautiful sunset you would ever get to see.

‘Did you know…’

No. You were just fine living in ignorance.

‘…she was this close to…’

No. Please don’t say it.

‘…marrying your boss?’

You held his arm tighter, something similar to a heartbeat violently jolting your entire body, the aftershock sending painful shivers throughout your skin, all the way to the deepest, darkest part of you, where your chest stung and ached in a type of pain you were already growing quite familiar with.

And you wondered if Commander Nile was acquainted with it himself because, although his inexpressive eyes were difficult to read, you could have sworn that you saw them narrow, the mild bags beneath them darkening even more at the mention of his wife’s name.

His wife’s name…

You looked to his right abruptly, your heart racing as if to match the crazed speed of your thoughts.

If Commander Nile was here, then probably his wife…

You looked to his left, and then around; your eyes embarking on a journey of anticipation and uncertainty as they navigated the sea of faces surrounding you, each little glance holding the potential of familiarity for any wistful eyes wishing to spot her, or the dread of recognition, in your very particular case. The dread to discover, among the countless expressions, the telltale features Hitch had so poetically described, the golden hair, the porcelain skin, and the blue eyes that had stolen his heart all those years back.

-

next chapter

buy me a ko-fi?☕️ ^^

taglist: @mysticalnightbeliever @aliasrising @elnyrae @mchlist @apts2000 @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @lucifers-nipple-piercing @karmabyfernando @thicc101q @shittyprofilebutfuckit @dilfenthusiast-union

[dingodad]

As for Equius's aspirations, are ruffianihalators the troll word for executioners or do we know anything else about their roles? And what about archeradicators? We see The Executioner with a bow so perhaps archeradicators are executioners or at least can be? What positions would cerulean bloods hold?

the name ruffiannihilator and the fact that Equius' intro says he would be good at that and terrible at archeradicating point to it being a role that specialises in physical roughhousing and not delicate weapons. so no, not formal executioners, though they probably execute lots of aliens with their bare hands as part of the army the condesce uses to subjugate alien worlds. these distinguished military roles should be thought of as separate to practical jobs in civil service, like being an executor or a legislacerator.

as per page 20 of act 5, Troll Will Smith is "a green threshecutioner cadet who sasses up the bluebloods in his flaysquad pretty good." so the specialisations in the condesce's army are mixed, and not representative of ranks in a hierarchy. while archeradication is a noble art, there will be boss archeradicators and underling archeradicators just like in any other occupation.

it's possible to imagine that through immense difficulty and effort a troll might be able to earn enough experience and renown to command trolls of higher social standing than themselves, but it should be kept in mind that the Grand Highblood has authority over Dualscar because the land dwellers are in charge of their own affairs and the rivalry between land and sea is actually codified into their social structure.

less clearcut answer to this one but i would say it's a bit of both. despite being evidently mixed most of the military roles have a clear lean toward one caste (clowns for laughsassins, trolls who can commune with animals for cavalreapers and so on) so it would make sense that the pattern continue with the gamblignants, and the bluebloods being a "Thief class" would fit some of Caliborn's worldbuilding sensibilities. on the other hand i see gamblignants as a kind of independent culture divorced from the mainstream Alternian hierarchy, and it doesn't REALLY make sense for the hemospectrum to have one singular rigidly defined "criminal caste" so I expect the gamblignants as a people would have consisted of a broad variety of expatriates from the empire even if they were possibly cobalt-dominated in some way. and pirates any higher than cobalt are definitely gonna be some kind of rarity

[throwmeabonepleaseandthankyou]

I was going to just change it to Cobalt but I wanted y'all to have a say in it

Flutters eyelashes

[beep-boop-still-not-a-bot]

Skylanders Academy Quattor

Season 1 Episode 4 - Dream Girls

(Quattor is latin for four, I wanted to spice things up a bit)

-They definitely made SED Talk as a parody of TED Talks. They might be completely different, but I can't see this as a coincidence.

-Now, normally, making the twist obvious from the start is a bad move, but I think Dream Catcher being the obvious villain of the episode is a nice treat for those who played Trap Team. Like 'what is she doing here?! That's the bitch who made me deal with waves of enemies, only for her to flee to the next level!'

-Young, impressionable cadets... and Chill, who is, in fact, a Skylander, as shown in the first episode. Why is she being called a cadet? Did she demoted herself like Bad Breath did?

-Also, Chill being here with the Skylanders means the Snow Queen of the Ice Kingdom has been kidnapped by Cyclops and Chill has been either been ostracized or left out of shame for failing to protect her.

-Despite the amount of flyers Eruptor and Spyro had... not that many people showed up to the SED Talk. Guess they don't know that many people. Relatable.

-If I didn't know it was made of a gizzard suit, I would eat that bread for sure. It looks sooo good.

-Jet Vac is so dad in this episode. He spends most of it making cheesy lines, but what Stealth Elf is clearly distressed, he sits her down and tries to cheer her up. It's sweet.

-Cobalt the Brave, Sharon the Victorious, and Edwin the Meek at first but eventually Brave and Victorious are not real Skylanders. Not that you needed me to tell you that.

-Stealth Elf may be a fictional character of a fictional race, but I'm still going to comment on that there is no way she had enough brain power to deduce that Dream Catcher was behind the sheep phobia after having not slept for multiple days.

-I originally was going to question why Dream Catcher seemed to be a known villain despite having not joined the Doom Raiders yet, but she's actually already escaped from the Lucid Lockdown inside the Realm of Dreams... not that those words mean anything to me. Wait, go back, she's only fourteen?! She might be one of the youngest characters in the show!

-Dream Catcher mentions parents... Are they also both floating heads? If that's so, how did they have a kid? Am I thinking too hard on this? Probably.

-The conflict of this episode is so funny. I'm not saying I support giving people deep seated fears through constant nightmares, but if you're going to anyway, sheep are a great candidate.

-Remember when I mentioned in Skylanders Unite! that I'd be talking about Spyro knowing his name later? It's later! In this episode, Spyro tells the people that came to the SED Talk a story about how he got his name, and even mentioning someone named Gyra. Now, that is likely a reference to an American jazz fusion band called Spyro Gyra (yes I had to look that up, I hate jazz), but it's still odd to me that Spyro met someone before he was even born.

-Not going to question how Stealth Elf had this presentation ready when she probably came up with it about five seconds ago. Oh wait, I guess I am.

-I swear I heard Cy's voice cheering, but I couldn't spot him. Beep's gone delusional.

-There is no way attaching an iron ball to braces wouldn't rip them out, handcuffs or not. In fact, it might rip the teeth out, too!

[mewnellyart]

New sci-fi ocs yaaayyy!🪐🚀

Introducing Pierce, Cobalt and Sade, three space ranger cadets protecting their city from harm, with the small amount of brain cells they all share with each other💫

They’re still a work in progress, so there’s not much detail to them or their world yet👻 but I’m working on it!

[cc-cobalt-1043]

Grounded for a month:

Cadet Spectre : no more swearing, if you swear you're grounded for a month

Cadet Cobalt: heck

Cadet Crosshair: you're on thin kriffing ice

Cadet Spectre : Crosshair you're grounded for a month

Cadet Crosshair: kriff

[captaindibbzy]

He'd never seen Tadek wearing anything but the deep, rich cobalt of the core-guard's uniforms. He'd been stripped of that honour with all the rest, of course. To replace it, they'd given him the uniform of a cadet, trousers and an ill-fitting knee-length kaftan of the palest blue, two shades off white.

That particular shade came from a dye made of dogwood barn and hyacinths—cheap materials, in comparison with those used for the fringe-guard and the core-guard's uniforms. There were nearly three times as many cadets as the two upper levels combined. As a person rose through the ranks, they were given uniforms made of more precious materials—finer cloth and buttons, better tailoring, more vibrant dyes... An outward expression of the increasing value in which House Mahisti held them, the investment of time and training and education.

Someone had looked Tadek in the eye and told him that he wasn't valuable anymore. They'd taken away his beautiful cobalt uniform which had been made just for him, and they'd put him back in this.

I just love Tadek so much ok ;-;

A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland

[missbubblesoda]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (20)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.1k

If you were ever asked to describe nostalgia to someone who has never experienced it before, you would say it’s like walking down the hallways of a museum at sunset, with nothing but the sound of your footsteps as company, echoing down seemingly infinite walls decorated with sepia memories that belong to happier, distant times.

For you, nostalgia was always the one who spoke most clearly in the silence, and just like the corridors of that metaphorical museum, it just so happened to be ghost-quiet in your office that evening. And in such solitude, when the only heart beating in the room belonged to you, your otherwise welcoming workspace became an echo chamber of unsought feelings and unwanted thoughts.

You looked at his empty chair. So much for a quick ride. You thought. It had been hours since him and Lord Koch had ventured into the field, and even though the Sun had decided to call it a day, you hadn’t. According to the clock ominously ticking on the wall before you, as well as the animated chatter coming from the dinner hall downstairs, your shift had ended a while ago, yet somehow you found yourself still sitting at your desk, fountain pen hovering over boring administrative stuff you had read at least three times that day, working extra hours, all because you didn’t want to go home.

Not without seeing him first.

Making sure he got back safe was part of the reason, albeit a small one. Because, if you were to be honest, in the end the decision to stay working overtime for free, had come down to something way less noble. It was simple: If you were still in your office by the time he came back, there was a chance of something happening, there was a chance of something changing between the two of you. And that possibility was enough remuneration for you.

Your eyes, however, begged to differ and, tired of looking at the same words over and over, decided to wander around the room until they found the big window behind his desk. The sunset sky, with its sad pinks and nostalgic blues, held nothing but the promise of more loneliness. And that melancholic palette you would’ve otherwise found pretty, as well as the empty chair behind his desk, acted as nothing but a reminder of how much you missed him, and you didn’t mean just today.

You missed how things were back then. You missed the warmth of his skin and the gentleness of his touch. You missed getting drunk on the rich sandalwoods of his hair: musky, earthy, a little sweet, and just the right amounts of spicy. You missed the addictive taste of his lips as well as the velvety, honeyed words that would leave them in your most intimate moments. And most of all, you missed the way his cobalt eyes would make your heart soar whenever you looked his way and found he was already staring.

That was the best feeling.

And it had been so long since the last time you had experienced it.

The calendar would argue it had only been a week, but if that was the case, then that week surely had the personality of a month. The clock would call it nonsense, saying that time was measured and constant. You knew that Leon, however, would agree with you.

‘Alike are time and water.’ He had told you just earlier that day, as he read out of a small leather notebook snippets of what was, in his own words, ‘some nonsense’ he had written on his way there. ‘Flowing slowly one drop at a time, or rushing by in the blink of an eye.’ You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then I look at you and watch it freeze, knowing little has it to do with the mesmerizing view, when I find myself in the midst of that algid winter that is you.’

Maybe it was the bright oranges and mellow pinks of the sky you were staring at, or the connotation of endings that sunsets have, but your vision started to get blurry.

And sitting there, listening to the distant clatter of cutlery, unsure if the thing beating in your chest was a knot or a heart, you felt forgotten. Like the stuffed animal nobody packed before moving out, or the grandmother nobody visits anymore. And you had no one else to blame for that.

If you could, you would have pinned everything on time. On how it makes children turn into adults and forget to write home. On how it turns friends into strangers. On how it makes people grow tired of each other. On how it was starting to make him feel fictional, making you wonder if whatever beautiful thing you had, ever even existed.

If you could, you would have excused yourself behind ignorance, hiding under the blanket of confusion, claiming you didn’t know what happened.

You wished you could. But you couldn’t.

You couldn’t, because you knew exactly what had happened. You had heard the words leave your mouth that morning. Very clearly, even through the loud sounds of your own pleasure. You had said them. Words that he probably didn’t need. Words that had been distasteful enough to push him away.

Guess that saying I love you can sometimes make you unlovable, after all.

He did warn you, after all: Scouts don’t start families.

They avoid love.

They don’t marry.

But, who was even talking about marriage?

Beginning to grow frustrated with yourself, you tried to blink your feelings away. But the more you tried, the more they would pour out, and the more your eyes would start to burn as a result.

And that was a problem because, in that very moment, you heard the unmistakable sound of his footsteps down the hallway.

You rubbed your eyes one last time as they approached, trying to erase any traces of your lingering melancholy, and when the door opened, your fingers hurried to fiddle with whatever papers they found in the top drawer of your desk.

You didn’t know if he had even thrown as much as a passing glance your way, but judging by the discreet, distressingly quiet way in which he headed straight to his desk without uttering a single word, you could be forgiven for thinking he hadn’t even noticed your presence at all.

And it hurt. It sure did. His silence was so sharp it stabbed the deepest part of your chest. So loud it broke you like the wailing of singers is said to shatter glass.

But, if you were to put yourself in his shoes, you would understand.

Why would he say anything?

You tried to reason with yourself while your fingers caressed papers and closed drawers.

Why would he say anything to his dumb, incompetent assistant?

If you were him, you wouldn’t utter a single word either, out of fear of being misunderstood. Because, in the presence of someone as foolish as her, any simple, commonplace action could risk becoming fuel for even more stupid, delusional ideas forming in her little head.

However, although it had taken that little head a while, it was finally beginning to understand.

That she was just his clumsy, fuckable assistant who, after opening her legs for him a couple times, had accidentally fallen in love in the process. Nothing more than a stupid, inexperienced city girl who didn’t know anything about life in the Survey Corps.

But that same city girl was starting to learn. Yes, she was was.

You rose up from your chair.

It may take her a while, but she always learned.

You walked towards the fireplace.

And once she learned, she made sure she never forgot. Never forgot that she was hired to make his job easier, not harder. To handle his mail, not to warm the left side of his bed. To administer schedules, not to moan his name. To revise budgets, not to beg for orgasms. To bring him tea, not more problems.

And like so, with all that in mind, you retrieved the kettle from the fire.

It wasn’t hard to believe that the Commander of the Survey Corps had other things in his mind. More important, better things than his foolish, lovestruck assistant.

You carefully poured boiling water into a porcelain cup.

But to this foolish, lovestruck assistant, the problem was accepting all the aforementioned.

You sliced a lemon and watched it sink into the water.

It was hard to accept that he didn’t feel the same way you did. It was hard to accept that his lips didn’t instantly curve at the sight of you, the same way yours did at the mere thought of the cobalt in his eyes, and that little frown he did when he was tired. And you didn’t need to look at him to know he had it on his face right now.

You didn’t demand to be the first thought he had when he opened his eyes, nor the last one when he closed them at night. But you just wanted to be a thought.

Just a thought. Maybe the one he had when the first snow fell, or when new buds sprung upon old trees. When the first rain of the summer fell on him while out on the field, or when a gentle breeze mischievously shifted his hair out of place in the fall. Or when it lovingly caressed his cheeks in passing, just like you would right now.

If you could.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you threw a glance his way. He was sitting at his desk, head down, hand busy on what you guessed was the report about the new horses. And it was so very funny. If you had it in you, you would have even snorted. How something that could bring so much joy could also bring so much pain. And even more puzzling it was, how a heart could feel both at the same time.

He was so beautiful. Sunshine strands falling on his face, hiding the depths of his thoughts. The genius of those strategies that were always several moves ahead of what anyone was capable of.

So attractive. The frown in those jungle eyebrows telling you it had been a tough day for him too.

You forced your eyes to look away.

Of course anyone would fall for him.

You thought as you added a spoonful of honey and watched it melt into the boiling water.

Maybe you could forgive yourself for having done just that.

You picked up the tray with whatever steadiness your trembling hands were capable of, and, in the company of a desperate, uncomfortable hammering in your chest, cautiously made your way towards him, the hesitance present in your footsteps making you feel as if you were in some sort of cage, approaching a wild animal.

It shouldn’t be like this. You had been bringing him tea for months. Every night. Without fail. So, why did it feel as if it was a complete stranger you were about to serve? As if you didn’t know how many cubes of sugar he took or how many spoons of honey he enjoyed.

“Be careful, in case it’s too hot.” You warned him, carefully placing the tray on the empty corner he always left for his tea. “I didn’t know when you’d be coming back, so I wasn’t able to let it cool down first.” You avoided looking at him, although it wouldn’t even matter if you did, because from the corner of your eye you could tell he was doing just the same. Head down, eyes on his papers, just like yours were on the tray, as you took your sweet time adding sugar cubes to his cup.

He likes it sweet. His tea. Very sweet. You reminded yourself, stirring as slowly as you could, praying the sugar cubes would also take their sweet time melting. Because, some hopeful, silly part of you still believed he would say something. You needed to confirm he could still see you. You needed to make sure you hadn’t become a ghost from his past. Not yet.

And for that purpose, even the coldest ‘Thank you. You may go’ would do it for you.

If you couldn’t have his hand to hold or his arm around your shoulders, the smallest word of acknowledgment would be enough.

But when none of those came, you realized you had no choice but to leave. Quietly. Collectedly.

Despite the painful knot stuck in your throat.

Leave. To your room. Where you could take care of it. Where your eyes could bleed an ocean, eroding the boulder-like thing you had for a heart. Chilling what was once warm inside.

“If you don’t need anything else, Commander, may I be exc-”

“Are you going to him?” The sound of his voice made your heart explode inside your chest, and its abruptness left you wondering if he was even talking to you.

You wanted to believe he was, but he kept his head down, pen in hand, unmoving; making it hard for you, in your desperate state of mind, to tell.

“Commander?”

“Are you going to meet him now?” He asked again, and this time his eyes found yours, dissipating any doubts you may have had.

And you would have allowed yourself to indulge in some form of cheer, happy he was starting any sort of conversation with you.

You really would have.

If only his eyes weren’t the color of a midwinter night, starless, pitch black, so dark it was impossible to see what was hiding in them.

But something was for certain: whatever it was, it wasn’t there this morning when he left.

-

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @mchlist @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @apts2000 @lucifers-nipple-piercing

[simplegenius042]

If you want, come down to my inbox and ask for any of my main eight OCs:

Joaquin Cobalt - Protagonist of The UnTitledverse, a kid that grows and faces adversity throughout the four sagas, finding his identity as he does.

Silva Omar - Protagonist of Silva's Hope, La Última En Pie and Old Dusk in The Silver Chronicles, a junior deputy with a past shrouded in mystery who fights against the tragedy that follows her for a chance at normalcy, the newest challenge being a local cult in Hope County, Montana; the Project at Eden's Gate.

Haoyu Anabuki - Protagonist of Life, Despair & Monsters, they're the half-sibling of Monika and finds themself caught in the fray of a series of twisted social experiments run by the Ruins of the Midnight Rise and its director, Sir Enigma Malvolio.

Archangel Metatron - Protagonist of my original WIP, Wings And Horns, Metatron is the archangel of life, who is tasked to preserve the Soulmate System with his cadet, a young angel of death.

Jade Smith & Jasmine Rafiq - Protagonists of the An Old Ballad of Chance and Ember Hearts Trilogy (an original WIP trilogy), both women are two of the first humans to explore and travel the Multiverse, as girlfriends of course.

Ortega "Ore" Brantley & Marissa "Ress" Bishop - Protagonists of A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore, both are half-siblings who go across the remnants of America's post-nuclear wasteland to hunt down and end their father, the Arcane Urias, and his Occult.

Meta OC Questions

Once upon a time, I posted a series of questions asking about thematic/symbolic elements in relation to ocs.

Well now I've decided to create a new set of oc questions, this time touching upon meta elements of them as well as how they interact with the world they're placed in.

I'm mostly aiming these questions at fandom ocs (which is more obvious in some later questions) but these could also apply to wholly original characters.

..........

What inspired you to create your oc?

Why does your oc look the way they do? What are your reasons for their appearance?

What is the origin of the character's name?

Why did you give them the name they have? What is the in-universe reason for their name?

What kind of abilities and power level does your oc have? Why did you give them their powers? What's the in-universe reason?

What are the weaknesses in their power? Why did you give them their weaknesses? What's the in-universe reason?

Does your oc have any notable skills or good personality traits? Why did you give them those traits? Why do they exist in-universe?

Does your oc have any notable flaws or activities they're not good at? Why did you give them those flaws? Why do they exist in-universe?

In a group dynamic, what kind of role does the oc usually fill? Are they a worry wart? A troublemaker? The straight man?

What is your favorite trait regarding your oc?

What is your least favorite trait regarding your oc?

Which canon characters (if any) do the oc have good relationships with? Why those characters?

Which canon characters (if any) do the oc have bad relationships with? Why those characters?

Did you give your oc a love interest? Is it another oc or a canon character? Why?

How does your oc interact with the canon narrative? What about it do they change?

What aspect(s) of the universe's lore are they connected to? Do they change/add lore to the universe?

List/describe up to five tropes that apply to your oc. They could be related to the oc's characterization or their narrative arc.

Imagine meeting your oc. What would you want to say to them or do with them?

How might your oc react to finding out you are the one responsible for their life?

Share a random piece of trivia about the creation of your oc. Examples: scrapped ideas or changes you didn't expect to make.

[toranoya]

ABOUT: Duke Jayael (OC)

“Your Grace, it is not often the wind guides me to still ground—but when it does, I know the company will be worth the landing. May our words today carry further than wings ever could.” hc

Name: Duke Jayael, the Azure Quill Title: Newly Appointed Duke of the Goetia Lineage Species: Avian Demon (Blue Jay) Realm: Pride Ring, House of Echoed Wings Height: Approximately 6'4" (193 cm) Weight: Around 185 lbs (84 kg)

Biography: Duke Jayael, also known as The Azure Quill, is a recently ascended Goetia noble whose presence commands attention with effortless charm and regal poise. Born into a lesser-known cadet branch of the Goetia bloodline, Jayael’s claim to nobility was long overlooked—until the untimely vanishing of his predecessor during a political coup that rocked the upper echelons of Hell’s aristocracy.

With the title thrust upon him, Jayael rose not through traditional bloodline scheming, but through wit, charisma, and undeniable merit. Standing at an elegant 6’4” like his distant cousin Prince Vassago, Jayael carries slightly more weight than his relative due to his honed, athletic physique. His slender yet fit frame was sculpted by years of aerial duels, dance-like swordplay, and solo patrols of his territory above the clouds of the Pride Ring.

Graceful in the air and sharp in mind, Jayael possesses two rare and formidable powers that solidify his status as a Duke not to be underestimated.

-Command Script—a supernatural ability to compel others through written word. With his signature quill carved from his own feather and ink drawn from arcane wells, Jayael can write commands or truths that etch themselves into the will of others. Whether scribbled on parchment, carved into stone, or traced midair with glowing runes, his words bind. The strength of the compulsion varies by the target’s willpower, but few can resist the elegant force behind his script when written with intent.

-Jayael is a master shapeshifter. He most commonly uses this to shift between his refined humanoid form and a striking full blue jay form with radiant wings and an intense gaze—but his power allows him a wide variety of transformations, including shadow-forms, illusory doubles, and stylized disguises. He uses this gift as much for survival and espionage as he does for theatrical flair.

Adorned in cobalt and silver robes that shimmer like his vibrant feathers, Jayael blends modern elegance with the ceremonial traditions of his House. His sapphire-blue eyes gleam with intelligence, and a streak of mischievous ambition lies just beneath his polished manners.

Though new to the politics of Hell’s upper crust, he has swiftly garnered a reputation as a cunning diplomat and tactician. He is often seen at the Ebon Menagerie—a high-society lounge for Hell’s elite—where his silver tongue, disarming grin, and subtle use of his Command Script have earned him both admiration and wary distance.

Yet beneath the charm is a bird always watching, always calculating. Jayael may have only just taken flight as a Duke, but all signs point to a rising power who intends to soar far beyond the perch fate originally granted him.

Likes: -Arcane calligraphy and rare inks -Windy heights, especially cliffside libraries and skyward balconies -Formal debates with intelligent opponents -Duels (both magical and physical) with style and flair -Music played with stringed instruments—he is a lover of elegance in sound -Birds of any kind—he respects them as kin and messengers

Dislikes: -Being underestimated or spoken down to -Enclosed, underground spaces (he gets visibly tense) -Anyone who mistreats animals, especially avian familiars -Hot, dry weather—it makes his feathers lose their shine

[team-oliv]

Part 1: One Year Ago

“Onyx Cheshire,

“Lapis Hamelin,

“Ivory Reynard,

“and Violet Goodfellow…”

“Allow me to welcome you to Atlas Academy. As most of you already know, I am Major Cobalt Ymir- third and fourth year combat instructor for Atlas as well as your team’s advisor. During this orientation you are allowed to speak freely and ask the questions you need before we begin with your first assignment.”

“I have a question, Uncle Cobalt-” Violet, the shortest of the four, spoke up. She held her slight frame in the best kind of official-looking stance she could come up with.

“Major,” Cobalt corrects, “You now part of Atlas Academy and we hold ourselves to military standards. Who I am in relation to any of you holds no bearing outside of the fact that I am your team advisor and an officer. Cadet Cheshire, the same goes for you. The fact that I am your father’s friend means nothing here.”

“R-Right! I have a question, Major,” When Violet received the nod to continue, she did. “Is it true you asked for all four of us by name?”

“I did. This does go against usual convention but occasionally we scout our entrants ahead and form teams accordingly.”

“And you claim no special treatment? The fact that all but one of us knew who you were ahead of time would hint at something else, wouldn’t it?” Onyx stands more casually than the others, but with an air of proper manners. A wide smile never left his face.

“I have to agree with Onyx, sir.” Ivory stood a full head over everyone else and nearly a full two over Violet. Unlike the others she stood with perfect soldier-like attention. “Both of us know you through Onyx’s dad and… you’re that one’s uncle?” She nods to head to Violet, “And you asked for us specifically. Why?”

“That would be because I know you and your families- and they trust me to work you hard and without exception.” Cobalt says in a stern official tone. “None of you will coast through this academy on name or privilege under my watch!”

“What’s that mean?” Lapis asks, finally opening his mouth to speak to Ivory. For such a large built guy, he was speaking plainly and quietly.

“Really? You’ve never heard the name ‘Cheshire’ before? Hamelin, was it?” Onyx gives a slightly haughty glance to the bulkier student.

“You mean that investment firm? The one founded by that former huntsmen?”

“That’s the one,” Ivory explains, “That former huntsmen is Onyx’s father and he’s an old friend of the Major. Mine works for the company. Onyx and I have known each other basically all our lives.”

“Uh huh…” Lapis says dully before turning to Violet. “What about you?”

“You’ll see…” Violet responds, deflating her shoulders and flicking her eyes to Lapis, then looking up to actually meet his face. “How about you?”

“That’s a good question, actually.” Lapis says, staring right at the Major with a demanding intent. “I don’t have any convenient friends or relatives in the army.”

“You are a very special case, Cadet Hamelin. Under normal circumstances students much finish a training school or receive private tutoring to become ready for the academies. You managed to pass our entrance exams without that. While not unheard of it is exceedingly rare. Rest assured the academy will be watching your progress closely.”

“Just don’t make it too close. I don’t plan on joining the army.”

“Whatever you all choose to do after graduation is your choice. However, starting today you are under my direct supervision. Beacon Academy has a tradition of launching their first year students into the Emerald Forest to test whether they have what it takes to survive being a huntsmen. We're going to do something similar. Gather your things and get some rest. Tomorrow you will embark on your first training mission as a team. Prove to me my faith in your capabilities is not misplaced.”

[dragonstoravens]

Piccrew looks for Rebel Blue! In order:

Periwinkle, Cadet, older!Cobalt, Moonstone, human!Jet, Siren, Trinity, and Fate.

Taglist: ask to be added!

[morninkim]

Individual brief characters profiles under the cut!!

Aki Akahiro

21 year old Firefighter cadet at Shin Tokyo Fire Department

Selected for his bravery in the face of danger and unwavering sense of responsibility to the safety of others.

Though inexperienced in both leadership and life as a public figure, he does what he can.

Kiyomi Asano

19 year old Shin Tokyo University Student

Selected for her aptitude in martial arts and self defense, promised a scholarship after failing her entrance exam

Bright but shy, she's able to let go of insecurities and become a different person under a helmet.

Seiji Asano

34 year old office admin worker for The Gemini Company

Requested his position on the team after learning his sister had been recruited, wanting to ensure her safety

Distrusting of The Gemini Company, he works to support his sister and pay for his mother's many medical bills.

Cobalt Mason

29 year old Mechanic, Cybernetics graduate from Shin Tokyo University

Selected as tech expert, accepted for access to the Gemini Crickets' augmentation schematics

Works on cars and robotics as a day job, but their true interest lies in human augmentation.

Isabelle "Belle" Vance

32 year old Model

Selected for her ability to thrive in the public eye, accepted to help boost herself back into prominence

Left public life years ago for the sake of her transition, she is determined to make her comeback count for something.

The Super Team Ganbarengers.

Five young people chosen to wield The Gemini Company's GanBraces to transform into heroes and protect Shin Tokyo from the interdimensional Kaijin threat. They inspire children and adults alike, keeping morale up for the Megacity.

Each Ganbarenger is equipped with their own skills and specialties, designed to equal the strength of the Gemini Crickets.

Five disparate people, five views on the city, five different attitudes toward their benefactor.

They're a team, whether they like it or not.

[cc-cobalt-1043]

Snitch:

*cadet Cobalt and cadet Hunter were training but Cobalt hurt his knee during training*

Cobalt: *groaning in pain* kriff

Hunter: *angry* watch your language young man

Cobalt: sorry, it slipped out, besides it really hurts

Hunter: I know vod, but where did you even learn that word anyways

Cobalt: Crosshair taught me

Crosshair: *scowling* snitch

*Hunter groaned and threw Lula at Crosshair's face*

Hunter: and consider that a warning Crosshair