#implied cato/reader

[mothiir]

xenobiology

pov: you’re an eldar, and the human you’re working with smells better each day.

this is the other side of eyes full of stars, told from Taleath’s perspective. fair warning that it will get pretty weird pretty fast, because writing from the pov of a murderous space elf leads to some strange avenues.

—

—

Whatever process that Cato Sicarius underwent to shape him into a muscle-bound killing machine clearly stripped out his — already limited — social grace and replaced it with battle acumen and bloodthirst. Taleath isn’t complaining — the creature is a worthy ally on the battlefield — but it is vexing to see the Astartes snarl and posture around you, despising how you inspire such rampant sexual desire in him, and thus despising you. It’s such a petty human trouble: denying your feelings, and having them twist into something gnarled and uncontrollable. And human emotions are so base and simple! If Cato were to feel one tenth — no, one hundredth — of the true emotional range of an Aeldari then his tiny, unwrinkled brain would combust with the effort of controlling them.

That being said: Taleath runs his tongue over his gauntlet, tasting where your lips brushed, and suppresses a full-body shiver. Oh how he wants. He’s spent almost a hundred years learning to manage his darker impulses, but before that he indulged them at will, and the hedonistic habits of three centuries are clawing at the edges of his self control. You taste sweet and mammalian. He wants to drink you down to the bone, your hot blood down his gullet, your shining soul sticking between his teeth. As he roles the fragments of you over his tastebuds, the tiny shreds of skin cells and drop of saliva, the taste thins and vanishes, and oh it is not enough.

It will never be enough.

“Come here, please,” he says, removing his gloves slowly, slowly, slowly — meditatively, focusing on the slide of metal over each of his knuckles, trying to use the sensation to ground himself. It works, up until the point when you stand before him, your warm heart racing, echoing in his marrow. His ears twitch to better capture the sound. He places one bare palm against the small of your back, pulling you closer, and declares a personal vendetta against whatever seamstress made your clothes, against whatever beast produced the fabric. He will gut them all, burn their worlds and display their loved ones on spikes, all for having the temerity of separating his hand from your flesh.

His thumb presses at your lower lip. Your flesh is softer than he expected, downed with fine hair that is invisible to a human’s eyes, but he sees it; sees how the light catches on the strands, velvety and exotic. He exerts just the tiniest amount of pressure, willing you to open your mouth, to welcome him inside, to lave that warm tongue of yours over his digit. You don’t, however. You hold yourself there, heart rabbit-swift and skin rosy with arousal, and you defy him. Your eyes fix on his: challenging. Pushing inside your mind feels all too natural; you welcome him in — subconsciously, of course — and he tastes your defiance like dandelion leaves plucked at dawn, your desire a rosy pink sunrise glow on a still pond. By the gods, this is monumentally unfair. He is meant to be reformed. A century ago, he would already have had you a dozen times over, shaping your sweet warm insides to fit him: you wouldn’t be able to move without the remnants of his pleasure leaking down your thighs. He would have braided your hair with diamonds that glittered like caught stars; you would jangle with the jewellery he draped about your throat, displaying the trophies of his latest raid. He would have have branded his sigil between your breasts and pierced your nipples, just so he could string a gold chain between them, and use it to pull you closer and —

Your breath puffs against his flesh, and he can restrain himself no longer. His fingers slot into your mouth like they were destined for it — maybe they were. The Farseers have stranger prophecies than this; it is not beyond the realm of possibility that Isha, in her infinite wisdom, sewed the seeds for your birth ten thousand years ago, knowing that one day you would be here, mouth crooked open, silk-wet and perfect.

He explores your mouth in the same way he removed his gloves: slow, deliberate; an act of meditation. He catalogues the ivory ridges of your teeth; the pillowy softness of your cheeks; the squirming wet muscle of your tongue. He coos with appreciation, his chest vibrating with a sound that few humans hear: the sound of a deeply content Aeldari.

Your drool should revolt him as it slicks between his fingers and drips down your chin — but no, it is not enough. He wants to see it pasted all over your face as you gag and hiccup, clinging helplessly to his boots for support, his cock sliding down your tight tight little throat —

It’s a trick. It’s what they do, it’s what they do. Your thoughts are abrasive: a stone splashing directly into his skull. He probes back into your head, and feels the spiderweb strands of your conviction that this is all a trap, that he is just pretending to desire you for some infernal purpose. Knife-ear, you think, and in that moment he wants to slice out the tongue of every human you have ever spoken to, just so he can mute the bastard who taught you that word.

“Do not insult me,” he growls, his voice slipping lower, losing the artificial Iyanden accent he adapts when conversing with others (once you hear the voice of a Drukhari you do not forget it, and humans often have quite dramatic reactions when they realise what he used to be. Entertaining reactions to be sure, but not ones conducive to diplomatic negotiations.) “I would not need to resort to such base measures to trick you, if I wanted to — if — “

You hollow your cheeks and suck, welcoming his fingers down into your soft palette, Taleath’s vision goes white. When he returns to himself, a fraction of a heartbeat later, you are bobbing your head back and forth, your thoughts pink-red with desire. You want so badly to hold his wrist, to urge him deeper — you are thinking of it so vividly — that for a moment he thinks you have done so. He feels the ghost of your grasp on his wrist, and — no. No, he cannot lose himself in this, he cannot.

I want him to fuck my throat —

Your desires are strident lightning, reverberating thunder. He yanks you closer, thankful that the segments of his armour shield his growing erection. He will bend you over his throne, he will carve his name into your back again and again, until there is scarce any flesh to mark that does not already bear the signs of his ownership —

No. No. He yanks his fingers free, and you mew with distress, leaning forwards after them, lips parted in canine supplication, your feelings spiking in violet defiance: give it back. Not just pleading, but entitlement; you want him, you resent him for stopping.

“I should not be doing this,” he says, swallowing thickly. Think of the ocean, his teacher would tell him when he first joined Iyanden, constantly changing, grey and endless beneath a bleak sky. “You are human.”

Your lips bump against his palm.

“Yes,” you coo, “and you want me.”

His body moves before his higher brain functions can step in; three centuries of slaking his thirst without thought for the consequence triumphing over a century of trying very hard to unlearn the impulse. In that space between one breath and the next he is not Taleath of Iyanden; he is Taleath of the Crimson Talon, kabalite warrior without peer. Your flesh gives way beneath his teeth like warm butter, and he greedily slurps down the blood that spills out. Your little cry of pain is music to his ears, and it will be the first of many; he will wring a symphony from you by the time he has finished. You open your thighs for him — so willing, so obedient — and he fully intends to give you what you both so clearly need. He will fuck you again and again and again, until even that idiot Cato Sicarius sees who owns you, body and bone and soul —

For you, the exchange is less than a heartbeat. For Taleath, it feels like an eternity: he grinds between your thighs, the heat of your cunt pulsing through his armour; he can smell how slick you are, how easily he could push inside. Your blood between his teeth and on his tongue, rich and delicious. He’ll dine on you each morning and each evening, glutting himself, because does he not deserve it? Is he not entitled to you? Sweet, soft human, so frail in his grasp — his kind built an empire whilst yours scrabbled in the mud, and —

He recognises the drift of his thoughts into old, familiar patterns and with a monumental effort of will he hauls himself away. Standing at the other side of the room, he licks your blood from his lips, rolling it between his teeth like he is sampling a fine wine. He wants the flavour to linger forever.

“Taleath —“

Gods preserve him, you smell of prey. Fearful, sweet, confused, aroused: you might as well be a fawn, tottering on long fragile legs before a hungry eagle.

“No. Stay there.”

Your fingers probe the bite mark, and he wants nothing more than to rejoin you, to replace your hand with his own; his fingers would span your throat, your jugular nuzzling comfortably into the webbing between his thumb and index finger.

But he does not move — not to join you, and not to retreat. The old soul-hunger is stirring once more; never quite gone, only denied and starved into submission. Taleath will die a thousand intricate deaths at the hands of a haemonculi before admitting it, but he understands Cato a little better now: one touch of your lips, one taste of your blood, and he is ready to tumble headlong back into the doomed ways of his former kin, willing to embrace damnation as long as he can do it with you warm and squirming under him.

“I hope that this is not a diplomatic incident.”

“No. But it could be. My kind do not engage in carnal pleasures casually — “

“—and not with mon-keigh.”

”Not often. Not usually.” An Aeldari would notice the telltale signs of sexual arousal he’s displaying, and would not-so-gently advise him to meditate until they vanish. His ears twitch; his voice echoes with that damnable coo that only the most practiced of his kind can swallow back.

You are human. You do not understand.

“I do not want you to be hurt,” he says, cursing the limitations of your language. To be hurt: what a limited, idiotic expression. There is no shorthand to specify what sort of hurt — injured pride, perhaps, which can be both a positive or a negative and thus demands at least two tenses; hurt in battle, which can be honourable; hurt in the aesthetic sense, where you view something so abysmally hideous it sears the artistic sensibilities of your soul — and so he must communicate with the linguistic equivalent of a shovel.

“I’m fine. It barely stings. It will heal up soon enough.”

That is not what he means; not even a little. Indeed, the notion of his bite healing up pains him, a searing slash across his chest worse than any bolter fire.

“—I do not want you hurt by anyone who is not me.”

“You — you want to hurt me?”

Again: your language is so limited, so primitive. There is a word in his native tongue that translates as one so precious that only I may flay them and another that means a face so beautiful it is best when attached it its bones and not even displaying it on my finest trophy wall would enhance its appeal.

He does want to hurt you — but it is more than that. He wants to own you. To devour you. To feel the warmth of your body under his, and to see your soul flare bright against the dark. He wants — and wanting, to an Aeldari, is poison.

When he leaves you, it takes more willpower than you can ever understand. And even as he sits alone in his quarters, trying desperately to reach the fathom depths of Craftworld serenity he now carries within him, he tastes your blood on his tongue.

He will be back to you. Of this, he is certain.

[lemon-russ]

The girls have ceased the fighting. A momentous occasion for all. war is over.

Part 14/ ???

< previous || next >

Cato Sicarius x F!Reader

CW: Depictions of a panic attack, Violence / brotherly stabbing, mentions of sex

Summary: Ambassador handles getting caught with a boy by Dad SUPER well.

word count: 2,089

You sit in silence across from Guilliman in the thunderhawk, flanked on either side by Gallan and Brutus, the other space marines who were guarding you.

You try really hard to count the little lines on the textured metal floor, focusing on not having a panic attack and not throwing up as your stomach does terrified back flips. Every time you look up and see Guilliman's cold, disappointment stare, you feel like ice water has been dumped over you and your mind resets into a panicked static.

Eventually, Guilliman speaks, but not to you. “Where even were you two? I sent three of you for a reason.” He asked Gallan and Brutus. They share a look, expressions unreadable under their helmets. “We didn't want to crowd out the ball room.” Gallan says. “We were securing the parameter instead, my lord.” Adds Brutus.

Guilliman frowns and grunts a tired noise. “I suppose you couldn't possibly predict… that.” He says, rubbing his temple. He looks at you again. “Well? Are you ready to explain what in my father's name that was about?” He says in a calm but stern tone.

You swallow hard and start doing grounding techniques, counting up and down your fingers as you tap them, trying not to cry. You couldn't stand disappointing the primarch. He'd been like a father to you since you started working for him, he was always so kind and patient- and you failed him.

He sighs, spotting the familiar sight of you trying to de-escalate a panic attack. He switches places with Gallan to sit next to you, and wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to him and rubbing your arm. “There, there, I'm not that mad. No need to get in a tizzy, little one.” He says in a more soothing voice.

She sniffle back tears, looking up at him, lip quivering. “I- I'm sorry, my lord.” You squeak. He frowns a bit, ruffling your hair. “You're okay, ambassador. Everyone has off days. Can you please just help me understand why Titus and Cato were bare knuckle brawling in the mud on your forced vacation?” He asks, a little exasperated.

You swallow again, heart stuttering with cold fear at having to face this. You have to tell him what you and Cato have done. Have been doing. You take a few deep breaths as the Lord Reagent rubs soothing circles on your back.

“Promise you won't murder anyone?” You squeak.

He frowns. “…I promise…” he says, turning his head to side eye you a bit. “But this does not give me confidence…”

You frown and hold up a pinky.

He blinks, then laughs and shakes his head, trying to wrap his massive pinky with yours. “You are ridiculous sometimes, little one. I pinky promise no one will die over whatever you tell me.” he chuckles tiredly, squeezing your shoulders.

You let out a nervous breath. “Okay… well…” you look at your hands, fidgeting in your lap, trying to barrel through the cold fear.

“Captain Sicarius and I… well, I was going to ask you about it when I got home…” you start nervously. “But we… well, we're… together…” you manage to force out.

Guilliman blinks, expression unchanged. “I'm sorry my dear, I must be losing some of my hearing in my time-coma-ressurected body. I thought-” he chuckles nervously, “-I thought you just implied you were romantically involved with Cato Sicarius.” he says, smiling with a touch of desperate denial.

You grimace, bracing yourself a bit as you quietly wait for him to process.

He silently maintains the forced smile, lower eyelid twitching.

“Ah.” He finally says. He stands, walks to the door for the cargo hold, opens the door, and walks inside, and closes it behind him.

The only sound was engine noise and slight rattles of the ship as you, Gallan and Brutus sit in deafening silence for a few minutes.

He re-emerges maybe ten minutes later, face a forced mask a neutrality.

“What are the… ramifications of a broken pinky promise again?” He asks in a strained voice.

You tear up immediately, lip quivering, “Sir! You promised! No killing anyone!” You sob, sniffling.

His jaw muscle twitches, neck straining as he grinds his teeth, and he turns and returns to the cargo hold a few more minutes. This time, there’s the sound of the hull being dented by Ceramite armor a few times.

He returns again, more collected, and sits next to you again. You are shaking with quiet tears, going through every worse case scenario of your new sort-of-boyfriend being shred into confetti by his father.

He sighs, pulling out a handkerchief from his armor that you're pretty sure he keeps just for you, dabbing your cheeks and rubbing your back with his other hand. You take the handkerchief and dry your eyes, sniffling sad little huffs.

“So.” He says, “How… long? And how serious?” He asks, resigned.

You sniffle, looking up at him sadly. “S-Since that first assignment we went on. And… I think p-pretty serious… I was going to ask you for your blessing, when I got back, and Cato wanted that…” you rasp through a tear thick voice.

He sighs a long, drawn breath. “…I… need to think about this.” He says softly. “I'm not saying no. But this is… a lot.”

You swallow hard and nod. “Um, th-they were fighting because… well honestly I think they just hate eachother for starters. But, Titus said I can't consent to dating an Astartes cause I'm dumb, and Cato called him jealous, and- well, it happened so fast…” you say with a frown.

Guilliman grimaces, furrowing his brow. “Wait, Titus called you dumb…?”

You roll your eyes. “Ok, he said I'm like, not intelligent enough biologically, cause Astartes brains are better, but… I mean, same difference.”

Guilliman lets out a tired chuckle, shaking his head. “What has gotten into my sons lately…?” He sighs.

“I won't hurt Cato, but I will need to talk to him. If it was any other two astartes and mortals, I wouldn't do this, but… I'll think about it.” He finally says. “Only think, no promises.” He adds.

You sniffle a little, giving a small smile. “Thank you, sir.” You say in a soft, tired voice, leaning against his side.

He sighs and pets your hair. “You bring such chaos with you sometimes for such a nervous, orderly mortal, little one.” He chuckles.

_____________________________________________

Cato and Titus sit at either side of a table back at the dining hall, arms crossed and staring away from each other. Their bruises and scrapes have already healed completely, leaving them merely covered in dried blood and mud.

Cato was seething, glaring out a window, while Titus tried to bore a hole into the table with his stare.

Cato glanced at him. “…this is your fault.” He grumbled.

Titus didn't look up.

“If you'd just left the Ambassador and I be, and not thrown a sucker punch like a child, we'd be fine.” He continued, looking back outside.

Titus leaned forward and put his head in his hand, anxiously running his hands over his short hair.

Cato watched him a moment. “…that's why your hairline’s receding you know.” He mumbles.

Titus shoots him a look and Cato puts his hands up defensively before they go back to their respective sulking.

A nervous waiter comes and places two cups of recaff in front of them. “Your Kaffe, sirs…” he says politely. “Made from special beans grown in our mountains, like plant grown recaffe-” The waiter stops his spiel when they give him a warning look and scurries away.

Titus goes back to nervously preening his hair, and Cato takes a sip of the drink and scrunches his nose.

“Eugh.” He huffs under his breath.

Titus stops his fidgeting and raises an eyebrow, then takes a sip of his own drink. He scrunches his face as well.

“Eugh.” He agrees.

“Plants aren't meant to make recaff.” Cato mumbles, pushing his cup aside.

Titus tests another sip and follows suit, shivering at the unpleasant taste.

“What's wrong with regular recaff? Why make it from beans?” He grumbles.

They sat looking out the window in silence a few minutes before Titus grumbled again.

“…You're a shit dancer.” He says, still looking away.

Cato snaps his head to him with a what the fuck dude face, and Titus shrugs and holds his hands up.

“What? You are. You looked like a robot. The Ambassador had to carry you through the whole thing.” He retorts defensively.

Cato gives him an incredulous stare for a minute. “You wanna try?” He says dryly, gesturing toward the dance hall.

Titus chuckles, “Don't be sensitive, it's constructive criticism-”

Cato laughs incredulously, “You want constructive criticism? How about if you sucker punch your Captain, you don't fucking miss.” he says through a dry laugh, shaking his head.

Titus scoffs, “I didn't miss-”

Cato barks a small laugh, “Oh? You were aiming for air and accidentally his my jaw?”

Titus laughs properly now, “Oh, fuck you-” he chuckles.

“Fuck me?” Cato says, picking up a steak knife and pointing it toward Titus, but still laughing a little at the absurdity of it all. “How about fuck you, you're the one who started a fight because I caught you checking out my girlfriend for like, the 10th time.”

Titus scoffs again, “I was not- put the knife down Cato you're not going to stab me-” he chuckles, the insanity of the day wearing on him now too.

“Oh? I'm not?” Cato says wryly. “I think I'm earned one, since you were staring at my girlfriends ass and then sucker punched me over it” he says, raising a brow and turning his head a bit, holding the knife a bit higher.

Titus was giving him a look. “Cato, really?”

Cato raised his brow and tilted his head a bit more in a go on, try me gesture.

“Emperor's balls Cato you're not going to- AH! FUCK-” He jumped as the small knife flung into his arm.

He started laughing hard, pulling the knife out, the wound almost immediately starting to close. “You little shit-” he laughed hard enough tears started forming in his eyes.

Cato laughed the same, putting his head in his hand on the table, then jolted when the knife flung into his arm instead, “FUCK- No! Hey! Unfair, I was owed a free one!” He laughs, pulling it out of his arm.

They both double over a bit laughing until they are weak. The anxiety and anger and absolute disbelief that they were caught fist fighting over a woman by their genefather wearing on their raw nerves.

“You're such an asshole.” Titus chuckles, wiping a tear from his eye.

“And You're a massive dick- oh yeah, what the hell was that about her being to unevevolved?” Cato chuckles back.

Titus pouts, “Okay I did not say that, you said that, and it made her think I said that-”

“No, no you definitely were saying something along the lines of her being too monkey brain to date me.” Cato retorts, shaking a finger at him.

Titus pouts harder, crossing his arms. “You're making me sound bad on purpose, asshole.”

Cato chuckles and shakes his head, “Don't give me that, I'm not the one implying she's some child with no capacity to make her own choices.”

Titus stares angrily out the window, huffing. “Not as bad as, wait, how did you get here?” He asks, raising a brow as Cato stops laughing and pouts himself. “Did you hijack a ship?” He asks, starting to chuckle again.

“I can't hijack my own ship.” He grumbles, crossing his arms.

Titus laughs again, “you fucking didn't— you just got on your ship and left? Didn't tell Guilliman??”

Cato slumps in his chair, pouting harder. “You're a dick.” He grumbled as Titus laughed again.

Titus jumps again as a fork now finds its home in his pec. “Fuckin- stop that!” He laughs as Cato joins in with a chuckle again.

The waiter walks towards them, sees Titus pull a fork from his muscle, and turns on his heel without missing a beat, making both of them melt into cackling again.

“We're really fucked.” Cato says through manic giggling.

“We're so fucked.” Titus agrees, trying to catch his breath. “How do we even ‘find our own ride home?’”

Cato clears his throat and sighs a laugh, “I hijack a second ship…?” He says with a wry smile, making Titus devolve into another laughing fit.

[sunyandmony]

"ꋊꏂꅐ ֮ϐׁυׁׅtׁׅ ….σℓ∂?" |Cato and Reader drabble(?)|

Cato but if he was a… Mer? Fish? Dunno- I'll see what I can do- The design comes first though- So yep- that's why it comes out very badly and late 😔

Just to be safe, I'm gonna add extra trigger warnings..

Tw:body horror(?), implied gore, potty mouth author/reader, self-harm mentioned(ig??)

B̶i̶g̶ f̶i̶s̶h̶ a̶r̶e̶ d̶a̶n̶g̶e̶r̶o̶u̶s̶ no̶w̶- B̶u̶t̶ a̶l̶s̶o̶… V̶e̶r̶y̶ s̶m̶a̶s̶h̶a̶b̶l̶e̶- I M̶E̶A̶N̶ H̶U̶H̶?̶!̶- D̶O̶N̶'̶T̶ L̶O̶O̶K̶ H̶E̶R̶E̶ D̶A̶N̶G̶-

Start reading under cut ⬇

—-------

You were NOT gonna make it out alive, not out of this one, nope, all the instructions did not tell you about a humongously tall half-human and half-fish, dangerous and about to probably rip you into pieces creature who currently had a staring contest with you, scarlet eyes glowing straight towards you, pentagrams sending daggers(?) your way as you prepared for the worst yet to come..

╰•°`°•>3 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒..<•°`°•╯

You finally managed to get out of that ridiculously uncomfortable seat, your mind trailing with thoughts of how your life is changing so fast, it hasn't even been that long since your parents handed out this house to you, and you knew they weren't poor, but neither that rich, you might've been wrong about that- What you're looking for was right in front of you as soon as you looked up from your phone and compared the screenshot to the actual thing.

The house itself wasn't much of a house itself,..a beach house? Could it be considered one at its size? Probably- But you didn't really care, this was now your new home, along with your dog of course, who's been following you all along, practically trying to get your attention to feed them, but you can't right now, it's too much to unpack now and so, she'd have to wait for a bit, you already gave her treats not long ago before getting out of the taxi.

Your dog was mostly fluffy and pretty friendly towards everyone, mostly children and especially you, the owner, the fur on her body being like a rough, colorfully coat. Black, brown and white adding to her fit, her ears dropped over her head as if acting sad from your denial for more treats, slowing down her rhythm ever so often while running off to the docks while you opened the door to your house, a key you almost forgot you had in your jacket that lazily draped over your persona.

This was much better than being locked in your apartment 24/7 working from home for the stupid makeup company your mom told you would be 'best for you' even though you barely liked makeup in general, not phased by it or anyone wearing it, because unlike everyone else, your parents just sent you off and said that it's fine to just retire all of a sudden, and not even bothering to tell you why, just 'waving' you off the best way through a call at midnight.

It wasn't new for them to ask you to do something, but this? You surely haven't expected things to go out this way, not when they planned on you being the one to take over their company when you're older, no not the make-up one, that's just another job you rather forget about now, because you hated every moment being there, not one moment did you enjoy working with uncooperative people at your side and trying to get projects done before they're overdue, so you took it pretty well actually, a chance to start fresh.

You slowly unlocked the door with a click and looked inside, the curtains having been left closed from the last time someone was probably, which you doubted was recent due to how private this part of the town was, nobody even stepping here and just going another way to avoid this place as if they couldn't step on the beach near this house, and you assumed it's your parents who bought this place for sure, because unlike your cousins you're not that easily gonna gloss over it and just, enjoy the kind of wealth? Not quite though, and the beach beside it, how do they have the money? A total mystery you don't ever wanna find anything about.

Ever so slowly, you set your bags near what looks like a desk with many drawers that had already been here for a long time, the dust having gathered onto it, the way this place looked like couldn't be described better then a abandoned house, a whole bunch of old garbage and dust laying around for who knows how long now, bookshelves full of books that somehow fit in the shelves for how many there were, old furniture somehow still intact as well but as everything else here, dusty, but overall organized. Huh, it seems whoever was last here at least left less chores for you to do, you assume that they're more responsible than you are though.

As soon as you hear the creaking of the porch behind you, ever so slowly getting closer, you open the door as your dog, which you so decided to call 'Jua', since the name fitted her pretty well. After she got in, you shut the door closed, making sure to check if it would budge before groaning to yourself, your thoughts running a mile an hour for whatever reason as you slumped towards the middle couch, letting yourself fall on it face first and not thinking twice before closing your eyes, trying to get some good night's rest.

… Turns out that's just impossible the moment you got your phone out and started scrolling through media, again, trying to pass the time and looking through 'Tuza', a popular app today that mostly had everything you could wish for, aside from the hackers, that's something you'd rather not get involved with, yet… At least if it's not necessary..

You didn't realize just how much your eyes hurt until you blinked once, finally coming to a stop from scrolling through Tuza, closing the app and then closing your phone, the screen turning black as you set the said device on the coffee table next to you, closing your eyes and uncomfortably shifting on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in, but none of the positions helped one bit with your sleepy state, you wanted to sleep so badly, yet couldn't, shifting eve more, as if it would help at all.

You grip your already messy hair and pull on it, the silence abruptly cut short as droplets of water started pouring down from the sky above on the roof of your house and everywhere else outside. You have not watched the news for a while, so you weren't expecting rain at almost 4 AM in the morning, and to say you were tired was a lie.. You were exhausted, spent and done staying up just because of your thoughts, stupid, awful thoughts..

What thoughts were they to be so bad? You don't even know, all you know they're so bad they keep you awake, and a bonus with that constant scratching noise from outside, and you already forgot what you were even talking about a moment later. You slowly loosen your grip on your hair, looking up to be met with the said rain outside that kept on pouring down on your windows. It was actually pretty quiet except the sound of your breathing and Jua's on the floor next to the couch, somewhere in the pitch blackness in front of you.

A deep sigh and you stand up, strolling closer to the window and looking outside, it was all normal. The palm tree ravishing with the violent wind outside, leaves thrown around by the force. You squint your eyes, and then you're met with another, much bigger, much weirder face staring back at you. You scramble back, breathing heavily. What is that? Whatever it is, it's not human, but it wasn't gone even when you looked back out, it started almost right through you.

You gave it a small wave, more out of curiosity than anything, and it returned the gesture, much to your horror. Yep, so it could see you through the darkness from a distance of at least a hundred yards away. Great. You understand why your parents had so many books about mythical creatures now, given one is staring at you. You come back to the present and skip back to your room, picking up a few clothes and changing into them. They were soft and somewhat comfortable on your cold skin, but it wasn't time to think. You put on the hat and then throw a raincoat around yourself, plucking the buttons on it close and putting on the hood before putting on some much needed boots and putting your phone in your pants pocket under the raincoat before running outside, bursting the door open and then closing behind yourself.

If you were gonna see a creature, you would see it up close to make sure it is real and not a trick or your imagination. Humid and wet sand crunched up under your feet and the wind blowing past you so rapidly made it impossible to concentrate on the current mission. Mostly because you forgot to bring a flashlight, so you had to base yourself at the bare minimum that you could see outside in the rain with the bare moonlight slipping through the heavy clouds.

A particular hard swoosh of the wind almost knocked you off your feet, but you grounded yourself, breathing heavily under the collar of your shirt, trying to warm up your breath somewhat before continuing on. You weren't seeing anything as of yet, given how low you are on the ground at the moment, and it felt like forever but you hit somewhat of a checkpoint, a rock in the middle of the beach that you sat down behind to rest on the sand, the wind not as effective now as it was before.

Were you seriously risking your life just to prove a thing to yourself? While it would satisfy your curiosity, it could also satisfy your death wish. A shiver ran down your spine. No, you were not going to die, if it was dangerous you knew you could run, some creatures of the ocean couldn't always stay on the ground before needing to go right back into the water. But given the rain right now, it didn't count, but they could still be out given the chance, and you weren't taking a 'no' as an answer from your brain.

A few more deep breaths and you got off the ground, steadying yourself with the help of the rock given at hand before walking around it and continuing your adventure towards the rocky hill, trying hard to not fall over because of the rain picking up and the wind blowing past you becoming much, much colder and harder to ignore.

A particular area nearby the rocks started rocking along with the wind, and the moment you got too close to it, the wind picked up and the boulder on top fell over, rolling off its spot.

You were so focused on it that before you knew it, darkness ate at your eyes and you collapsed completely under the boulder that continued to crush your body. You were too weak, too stupid to defend yourself against a rock, much less an unknown creature. It ate at your thoughts.

. . .

And suddenly, you took a deep intake of breaths as something heavy was lifted off of you as simply as a feather, you shot up and held a hand over your heart, trying to calm yourself. Your back was most likely not gonna help you, and neither were your most likely broken legs, well, not that broken, you still could move them, given your stupid attempt to get up off the ground.

A harsh gasp came from you, and you sat back down, feeling with your free hand at your ankles and lower leg, trying to see if it was fractured. On the inside it felt intact, on the outside however it felt like it was all scratched and bruised, for both legs had the same problem, but your right leg aches more given the weight that was put on it the most. More thoughts came about and then you raised your head, looking up to be met with what you could describe only as some sort of mer or even, leviathan. It couldn't be put in words at how silent it was, it was leaning close and stabilized with two hands on the ground, holding its body upwards.

You couldn't help your curiosity growing even more, despite the dread you were feeling, knowing that you were probably just prey in its eyes. It inched closer to you, and you had to hold back the shiver that ran down your spine once its immense, wet face was right in front of you, blocking out everything else, all you could see were the obvious scarlet, glowing eyes. To say you were one second away from running wasn't a mistake, but even if you tried, your legs would've given out the moment you get up, given just how much damage has been done already to your body.

The moment you took in a deep breath, it seemed to back away just the slightest bit, you were sure it was more scared of you then you were of it, even though it obviously had an advantage over you in most things. The first obvious one is the height, given you're about the size of an ant to it at this point. You weren't sure what to do, this was just a long staring contest between the both of you.

While most people would've run for their life or fight back, even do as much as flinch, you barely even took in a breath when it inched much closer to you than before. Not to mention it had an unreadable expression on its face, which, from your point of view, looked like a crescent moon and the variety of curves on its face couldn't give it away better than that. You wish you knew more about…Whatever this thing was, so as to know at least what would trigger its fight or flight response.

More harder given how dark it still was right now, and the fact it was still raining, but the creature's body somewhat loomed over you so much it blocked out the rain drops, it was probably trying to trick you into thinking it wasn't dangerous and then just finish you off without a second thought.

It was more than frustrating to think you would be done so easily, given all your life built up to this point, the silence is deafening, it's not a good sign, neither is the way it's inspecting you so closely. You forgot you were still in danger, given it hasn't moved a single bit, well, except for its head, but its body was as still as ever. Was it having some sort of debate on what to do with you? Okay, stop thinking that way, this creature is definitely not as dumb as you thought it would be, it's more like the smart type amongst its species. It's weird to say that too, you don't even know what it is.

It then shifted, leaning away all at once, and you once more had to hold back your breath, though that didn't prepare you for it to smirk at you. The sharp, razor teeth didn't help the matter much. It literally looked like it was about to eat you alive, not like it would be different from when you tried to do it to yourself, but glossing over that- You squeaked the moment the ground left you, and your raincoat not being helpful anymore, given how far off the ground was, you didn't dare look down knowing it would make it worse.

A sound revertabrated from its chest as you didn't move a muscle in its hold. It was so, SO, slippery and wet, yet it had such a hold. The grip around you tightened and your breath was taken away. It slipped closer and closer to the water, using its other hand, clawed tips dragging along the sand, dragging you along against your own will. A momentary midair view of the stars and then darkness.

Water surrounded you the next moment almost instantly, luckily for you, it wasn't as cold as you thought it would be, it was actually pretty warm water. Would be logical, given how hot it was outside not long ago. You blinked several times, adjusting your vision and looking around your surroundings, yep, confirmed you're being dragged deep into the ocean. It wasn't so hard to guess, seeing as many fish started to appear the more your vision cleared, yet your lungs didn't appreciate being so abused, bubbles left your mouth in an attempt to breathe.

Wherever you were being dragged to, it wasn't your home any longer. You covered your mouth with your palms, not doing much but giving you some sort of feeling that gave just the slightest bit of hope you wouldn't drown while being carried away. Was this really a reality? Or is it a dream? It feels too real to be one. The thing holding you was more than real, given that it looked at you from time to time. Your lungs didn't last long, and you started to lose consciousness, your vision blurring out most things around you. It was too much silence.

Wherever you were going to get dragged to, you just hoped it would have some air pocket space. This was the least you could think about before everything suddenly went dark, a warm embrace amongst the sudden cold in the deeper sea. It felt…Comfortable… The light was getting far too close for your liking….

𓆝~°^•*`°•End of prologue⌕`*•°^`•𓆜𖤐

@artistkeval , your blorbo.

FEESH, am I right? 🤔

[darkmold]

could I request yandere cato hadley hcs?

Yandere!Cato Hadley HCs

Warnings: typical yandere behavior (obsession, possessiveness, etc.), Cato is a spoiled douche who tries to force you to marry him, tried to make Reader gender-neutral but lemme know if I gendered something

Cato is a lot to handle. Being from District 2, his life has been fairly easy and he views aggression and dominance as honorable traits

He trained for the games since he was a kid, and takes his goal very seriously. His obsession probably began because he saw you as a rival. Cato is extremely competitive, and didn’t take kindly to being one-upped. You were his motive for getting stronger, and eventually you invaded his thoughts more and more often.

His frustration towards you became fascination. He’s arrogant, and the thought of someone being half as great as him is mind-boggling. He begins thinking of ways to impress you, starts subconsciously looking for you in crowds, and even looks for ways to establish some sort of dominant role over your life.

Cato is a jerk, but he knows how to turn on the charm when he needs to. When his feelings become romantic (his twisted version of romance at least), he lays it on thick. Brings you all sorts of gifts. Nice and practical gifts that, despite your stubbornness, do make your life easier. Ex: new shoes that are just a tad more expensive than the old pair (he’s gotta show he’s “better” than you financially ofc)

The next stages could go one of two ways; you willingly go out with him, or you refuse and provoke his utter douche-ness

Option One: you willingly date him

He may actually prefer to call this “courting” or something else that implies a much more serious relationship

He asks you out in a very nonchalant way, however. He brings up how similar you both are maybe complimenting you but don’t hold your breath and suggests that it would be mutually beneficial to partner up (I imagine he’d phrase it similarly to forming an alliance in the games. His entire life is focused on that shit)

Anyway, he’s over the moon when you say yes. Just be aware that this is a “no backsies” kind of situation. He immediately tells everyone whats going on between you and makes it very difficult to change your mind.

At this point, you’re probably a bit uncomfortable with his behavior but still think you can get through to him somehow and fix him up (spoiler: you can’t)

Option Two: you reject him

He’s pissed. Point blank.

Every positive thought he had about you is gone, but the obsession remains. The rejection solidifies his belief that you are below him.

He’s not gonna let a weak embarrassment of a person hold him back from the plans he’s built these past months. In his meltdown, he spills every idea he’s had for the two of you

He’s been training so hard to win this shit, just for you. Weak, pathetic, adorable you. So he can come back as a victor and bring honor to his district. So he can come back and marry you! How could you not want that?

I imagine that Cato’s family has some kind of foothold in District 2’s community, so it wouldn’t be hard to keep you under his thumb even after you refuse him. Wether that be through social isolation, threatening people who help you, or direct abduction is up to you.

The day of the reaping, you get dressed together. He chooses your clothes to compliment his, sits silently at the breakfast table as you both eat, and stops you at the door before you head to the square.

With your wrist in a tight grasp, he pries your hand open and gives you a plain golden ring. It’s proud and foreboding; like the man who gave it to you. He tells you that when he gets back, you’ll be his. Forever.

You can only hope for a deadly miracle in that arena.

[elijahs-dumps]

The Infantilization of Wylan Van Eck (within the soc fandom)

Hi! This is my first tumbler post ever, which is like super scary I wont lie. But I've had this project I've been working on since October and I'd love to share it with people, so here goes nothing!

Infantilization or to infantilize someone means to treat them as a child or in a way that denies their maturity in age or experience, and it qualifies as a form of mental abuse. 

This treatment is common in fandoms, although it obviously isn't done in a hateful way on purpose. It’s often directed towards characters who are more innocent, more kind, or more anxious than the other characters within the universe. Or, sometimes these characters are literally just the youngest of the group. Some examples of this include, Entrapta from She-Ra and the Princesses and Power, Varian from Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure, Number Five from The Umbrella Academy, Hunter from The Owl House, Little Cato from Final Space, and even Peter Parker from the MCU.

However, most of the traits found in characters that are infantilized are also traits found in neurodivergent people. These traits include, missing social cues, being easily excitable or restless, often feeling anxious hyper fixating on something (usually related to science or math), being an outcast from the rest of the group in some way, and so on and so forth. Therefore, infantilization within fandoms is pretty problematic on its own. People (usually online) think that characters with these traits should be babied or pitied or demeaned in some way, even though neurodivergent consumers usually relate to these characters because of those same traits. 

Some evidence of Wylan being infantilized can include; the fact he's only referred to as cute or synonyms to that, while the other Crows or their actors are often sexualized more. People saying or implying he's smaller, weaker, or even younger than the others. And of course, people saying Kaz and Wylan are father and son... which is something I'll come back to later.

Why Wylan?

To better understand why exactly Wylan is receiving this treatment exclusively from the fans, we need to fully analyze the Six of Crows duology, which is exactly what I did!

When we are first introduced to Wylan in chapter seven (Matthias’ POV) of the Six of Crows, we see him sitting at the table and doodling while occasionally chewing on his thumbnail. He doesn't speak until Inej voices her doubts in Wylan’s demolition abilities. Jesper says Wylan “barely knows his trade”, and Kaz mentions that Wylan is “new to the scene”. Matthias also makes a comment about how Wylan “looks like he’s about twelve”. When Jesper and Inej continue to complain about Wylan being their demo man, Kaz tells them that Wylan is doubling as their insurance policy because Wylan is Jan Van Eck’s son, the rich merchant who’s paying Kaz and his chosen crew 40 million kruge in exchange for breaking Bo Yul-Bayur out of the Ice Court. This immediately makes everyone in the room think less of Wylan because of his privileged past.

This introduction sets up Wylan to the readers. His reserved body language, along with his inexperience and Matthias’ comment about his young appearance gives the impression that Wylan is more childish than the other Crows.

In the next chapter (Jesper’s POV) as the Crows react to the reveal of Wylan’s identity, Kaz tells Wylan that he’s “passable at demo, but excellent at hostage”. Jesper calls Wylan a “baby merch” and insists that Kaz leave him behind, less he slows the crew down. Wylan is annoyed that Kaz and Jpeser are talking about him as if he isn't in the room. Then, Kaz tells Wylan that the only reason he hasn't been mugged or jumped in the three months since he left his father’s house is because Kaz placed him under Dregs protection. In fact, Jesper even says that Kaz has been “coddling Wylan”. Jesper proceeds to call Wylan useless as he and Nina belittle Wylan for living in the Barrel “by choice”. This is also where the nickname “merchling” comes from. When the group continues to go back and forth over Wylan’s skills, Kaz repeats that he’s only bringing Wylan along because he doesn’t want to leave their hostage alone in Ketterdam. This makes Wylan the only Crow that wasn’t hired for their abilities, Wylan’s passable demo skills are simply a bonus. It’s a way for Kaz to keep the crew small and avoid splitting the money even further. 

This entire exchange and interaction between our six main characters lays out the groundwork for the dynamic between Wylan and the other Crows for the majority of the first book. Everyone else in the room believes Wylan is just another spoiled rich kid. They make fun of him for his lack of street smarts, and the money he was born into. Wylan never really fights back too much when it comes to comments from the others, which just reinforces the idea that he came from a cushy lifestyle where he never had to learn how to defend himself verbally. Wylan’s inexperience and innocence is often mistaken for stupidity by the characters, and therefore the readers. 

Kaz saying, “Always hit where the mark isn’t looking.” Only for Wylan to reply with, “Who's Mark?” is a great example of this. (Still chapter eight, Jesper’s POV.)

In chapter nine (Kaz’s POV) we see how Kaz views Wylan in his inner monologue. He says Wylan seems out of his depth, and even though he’s only a year younger than Kaz (making Wylan sixteen)  he still looks like a child. Kaz describes Wylan as a silk eared puppy in a room full of fighting dogs. This pushes the concept that Wylan is more childlike than the others further onto the audience. 

Additionally, in chapter eleven (Jesper’s POV), we see Jesper quite literally call Wylan “kid” during the attack at the docks, even though they’re also only one year apart. And in chapter fifteen, Matthias refers to Wylan as “the soft one” within his own inner monologue.

Since Wylan doesn't have his own point of view chapters in the first book, the reader’s entire understanding of this character is formed through the eyes of the other Crows. So, what we’re hearing about Wylan in the first book might not be entirely accurate, which is something people often forget. Part of the reason why the fandom treats Wylan the way they do is because of the way the Crows describe and talk to him throughout the entire series, The reader learns to rely on the others’ opinions on Wylan in order to learn more about him. 

All of the evidence I have shown so far, and even some smaller things I haven't included, plants a certain mentality in the reader; Wylan doesn't have the same knowledge as the other Crows, so he must be weak and gullible. Weakness and gullibility are often traits associated with the “younger-one-of-the-group” trope, or the “Kid Trope”. So, since Wylan is displaying behaviors that we as media consumers have grown used to attaching to characters who are literal children, Wylan must be a child, or at least be treated like one. 

However, the Crows don’t treat Wylan this way because they truly believe Wylan acts like a small child, because he doesn’t. Wylan’s behavior is perfectly normal, it simply sticks out in contrast to the harsh environments all the others have been exposed to. They treat him this way throughout the book as a sort of condescending joke, they belittle him for the stereotypes surrounding his upbringing and little else.

Still, like I said, the Crows’ mindset on Wylan is all the reader is exposed to for the entire first book, so the reader will subconsciously assume Wylan must be doing something to earn this odd treatment from the others. Sometimes readers don’t understand that it is not Wylan’s wealthy and sheltered background that makes him different, it’s the fact that the others are all criminals, murderers, soldiers, and convicts. Wylan is the only “normal” Crow on a very surface level, so his innocence is bound to stick out more.

As the first book continues, we see that there’s more to Wylan’s past than he lets on. We see first hand how smart and capable Wylan truly is, as his character grows with the story. It begins in the fight at the docks in chapter eleven, where Wylan uses his own flash bombs to help Jesper out.  In chapter thirteen, Wylan openly questions and even challenges Kaz after he throws Oomen overboard, which shows great courage on Wylan’s part. This pattern of questioning Kaz when no one else really does is a common theme when it comes to Wylan. We also see Wylan explain who Pekka Rollins is to Matthias in chapter fifteen. This shows that he’s not completely incompetent, and is at least somewhat aware of what goes on in the Barrel. Then, in chapter seventeen (Jesper’s POV), Wylan expresses his natural curiosity and desire for knowledge about anything, from the mechanics of the Ice Court moat to the design of Jesper’s guns. All of this builds to chapter twenty-two, where the Crows are attacked on the ice by Grisha who were sent by the Shu, dosed on parem. Wylan does a lot of heavy lifting in this fight with his bombs, and everyone is impressed. Jesper even makes a comment about how Wylan’s “earned his keep” now. 

Small moments like this that showcase Wylan’s natural resourcefulness and strength are crucial to communicating with the readers that the Crows were wrong about Wylan in the beginning. As Wylan’s true nature begins to develop further throughout the first book, we slowly see the Crows and their attitude towards Wylan change. It becomes more positive. In the future, when Wylan makes an ignorant comment, the others don’t poke fun at him as much. They’ll tell him to be quiet at most.

By the final climax of Six of Crows, chapter forty-six (Kaz’s POV), we find out Wylan cannot read. Jan Van Eck is open about his hatred and mistreatment of his son. When Jesper jumps to Wylan’s defense, he goes as far as to say Wylan is smarter than most of the others put together. Jesper is in love with Wylan at this point in the story, so his words might be a little exaggerated. But there’s still truth to them. This entire scene serves as evidence that Jesper and the other Crows have realized Wylan’s intelligence and worth, so they don’t even think twice when they find out Wylan can’t read or write. 

If all the Crows’ preconceived notions about Wylan were proven wrong before the end of the first book, then why does the fandom still view Wylan in such a problematic way? 

Blame Booktok

This is all mainly tied to modern day book consumption, and the obsession with “tropes”. Online reading communities such as “Booktok” or “Bookstagram” have normalized interpreting even the most complex characters through simple archetypes. This is something all six crows are a victim of, in fact, most characters within all kinds of media are. 

A good example of this within Six of Crows is Kaz Brekker himself. Kaz, within “Booktok”, is often lumped together with several other male YA love interests in books, like Aaron Warner or Cardan Greenbriar . They all usually share very few qualities, like having violent tendencies, being extremely protective of their loved ones, and acting cold or mysterious towards others. Regardless of the fact that all these characters are so complex and different, from their relationship dynamics, to their morals, to their backstories,  readers still often view them as one in the same because of videos online pointing out very minute similarities. A broader example I would use is the way the Hunger Games series was often marketed and discussed as if the love triangle between Peeta, Gale, and Katniss was the main focus of the story. But really it was just a subplot to a more serious and heavy narrative.

People will often focus too much on singular tropes because it makes books easily identifiable and marketable in this new era of self-publishing and online purchasing. It’s easier to judge a book by its cover if you have a broad sense of what might be inside based on the small character details or scenarios other readers liked from it. But what does that have to do with Wylan? 

Well, because people often talk about books or even whole genres on a surface level, they also discuss characters on a surface level. This lazy form of consumption is what often leads to mischaracterization. People can obviously understand complex characters like Wylan, so it’s not a question of intelligence. Fans online are just used to discussing things within books fandoms in such a simple way and viewing a character through the lens of one trope. They’ll put the character in a box, and Wylan just so happens to check all the boxes for a character who would be infantilized. Even though there are interesting things about Wylan besides his “innocence”, people are less inclined to talk about it. In short, viewing Wylan as just another character who falls under the category of a simple stereotype is easier than including and discussing his nuances. 

So who is at fault?

When it comes to talking about a more harmful fandom behavior, like infantilization, it’s important to keep an open mind. Sometimes, it’s the creator’s fault for writing a character in a problematic way, not the fandom’s fault for interpreting it that way. So, is Leigh Bardugo at fault here for writing Wylan in this light? Or is it the fandom’s fault for not looking past the obvious parts of a character? 

I don’t think it was Leigh Bardugo’s fault. If you take the second book, Crooked Kingdom, into account then you can clearly see that the way Wylan is disrespected in the first book is something he’s dealt with his whole life, especially from his father. Wylan has been taught to believe that his reading disability makes him useless as an heir, and as a human being all together. This is one of the reasons why we never see Wylan truly snap back in an aggressive way in Six of Crows when the others insult and belittle him. A big part of Wylan thinks that the others are right about him being useless. Obviously, Wylan couldn’t have had his own POV chapters in Six of Crows, because then that would spoil his father’s true motives. However, I think the fact we didn't get to see his point of view in the first book serves another purpose. Wylan’s low self-esteem is definitely a major thing he needs to overcome in his personal story within Crooked Kingdom. So for the readers to fully understand this, we needed to view Wylan from an outside perspective. First, we get to view him as the other Crows do, as someone sheltered and weak who’s in way over his head. Then, we get to see why Wylan is the way he is. I think this sort of reverse style of character writing is really interesting and more fun to read. But still, not every reader accepted Wylan just because the Crows started to warm up to him. So by extension, this is also why Wylan is one of the most hated Crows. Nevertheless, I think the way Leigh Bardugo chose to write Wylan is inevitable for the story and vital to his character! It wouldn't feel the same if we didn't get to see how the others viewed him first. 

The fault lies with the fandom when it comes to Wylan’s infantilization. But, are people online really just lazy when it comes to discussing characters, or is something bigger at play here? I think it’s both. People do misinterpret Wylan’s strong and resilient character because of laziness and the normalization of oversimplification and overconsumption within the book community. But this treatment is also rooted in subconscious ableism. To better explain what subconscious ableism truly is, I’ll be taking a deeper look at a specific dynamic.

Kaz and Wylan (are not father and son)

Despite these two characters only having a one year age gap, the fandom often views Kaz and Wylan’s relationship as one similar to a father and son dynamic. Which is understandable to a certain degree. Kaz is the very first person Wylan ever told about his reading disability. Kaz had Wylan placed under Dregs protection the minute Wylan set foot in the Barrel, which may have been for Kaz’s own selfish reason, but it still kept Wylan safe for a while. There are a couple scenes in the books where Kaz will give Wylan advice about life in general, or about having a disability, not just about being a criminal. We see Kaz take getting Wylan justice for his mother and stealing back Wylan’s inheritance very seriously. Wylan even starts to pick up some of Kaz’s mannerisms and facial expressions. All of these could be viewed as things a father and son would do, despite how small the actual age gap is. However, the fandom seems to take this relationship to the extreme, from fan fiction and fan art, to getting the characters’ actors involved. 

It’s somewhat because of very minute subconscious ableism. People naturally view Wylan as younger because of his demeanor, but also because of his disability. The opposite is true for Kaz. His physical disability makes people naturally view him as older than seventeen in their minds. This is due to long standing ableist tropes within the media. People with mental disabilities are often depicted as stupider in some way, so they need to be babied or coddled. While people with physical disabilities are often depicted as very ill, or very old. 

This might seem far fetched, but it’s true. And it’s quite obvious if you look closely enough at anything from books, to movies, to TV, to games! These are just some of the harmful stereotypes we see in our world every day, 

How to fix this issue

Now, of course people aren’t just going to stop misinterpreting characters or stop viewing them through small scale tropes all together. But keeping yourself educated and aware is a good way to stop promoting these harmful stereotypes. Listen to the voices that are being affected in these situations! In this case, it’s people with mental or physical disabilities. Be sure to take into account what they have to say on matters like this one. Allow yourself to take the criticism and learn from their experiences or feelings. It’s important to be empathetic and kind to one another, and acknowledge that sometimes we do problematic things without intending to. When talking about characters with disabilities, it’s important to remember what they represent, and the fact that you can't always say whatever you want just because the characters are fictional. 

As always, if you’re ever unsure about whether something you feel or think is harmful towards a certain community, never be afraid to ask questions and do your research!

[moodymisty]

Soorrryyy in advance for the below word salad!!

Dumping all the worm induced blueberry thoughts plagueing me today here, so I may be rid of them.... Also I have very little knowledge of the lore I'm mostly going on what I see here.... sooo yeah it's me just just twisting whatever loose grasp I have on the characters😅

The Cato content is really getting to me (your art is not helping fighting it off!!💜). I put on a little spin on it though (real life experience kind of spoiled it for me), for myself, of the reader bullying him into character development instead...😅 (I think an inquisitor reader would be much harder to bully + would have some weight to throw around herself or a custodes love interest). Also I'm a whore for the idea of men getting their shit together to earn the love of their target of affection.

On the other hand that addition of Titus being present when Cato barges in on the reader in their room sent my mind to the gutter. Like, Titus and the reader being intimate during this Cato just pulling rank and ordering them about how to proceed (just now, my writing this I'm facing the fact, that my skills are seriously lacking to describe it in more detail....)

Also, I'm reading Dark Imperium, so there are some wishful thinking of Thiel living a happy life with a doting wifey, same for Andros (I can't believe only a couple of pages can make me go 'rip king, you were soo right and deserved better'). Also just, a cute medic reader taking care of Guilliman's wounds (putting some healing/pain soothing oinment on his neck scar, etc)... Also, also, Dad Guilliman having a daughter first than a son from reader and him freaking out as the two proceed developmentally at completely different speed (the daughter hitting everything super quick while the son doesn't and just him dealing with the dissonance of it)....

Well, now I have cleansed myself for today.... (Pls don't ask how my brain can go in soooo many directions within a day....)

I wish you a nice weekend!💜

None of us can form our thoughts coherently, don't worry. if anyone has the illusion that I can it's only because I can reread my responses to everything 36 times before posting.

also, yes. The idea of catching Titus/diplomat!Reader in some way or another (i always imagined him overhearing them talking privately somewhere and it's VERY obviously intimate conversation) and he just loses it. Either barging in, or just kind of losing hope that he's too late and he got beat by Titus so why not crank up the douchiness even more then?

Guilliman implies that he still feels the pain from the scar in DI so yeah helping him would be nice, even if it doesn't actually help, I'm sure he'd enjoy the feeling of someone caring. <3

[kit-kat-katie]

I Knew You Would

A/N: Here's a small drabble that I finished before my exams, so I'll work on that Finnick fic in my WIP when my exams are in the rear-view window. Hope everyone, students especially, are doing well. ❤️

TW: Small mentions of death, reader is worried about Clove

Pairing: Clove Kentwell x Reader (implied romantic)

Summary: After Clove is announced the victor of the 74th Hunger Games, it feels unreal until the moment she comes home. Well, until she kisses you, of course.

"And the victor of the 74th Hunger Games... Clove Kentwell!" Ceasar announces, and although those in your district cheer loud, your voice rings strong and true above them all.

Ever since you've wished her goodbye, you've been awaiting her arrival back home to you. A kiss goodbye wasn't the best place to end things between the two of you, but she'd come back for you again when she won.

If she won.

Your doubts were strengthened in the weeks between the Reaping and the Hunger Games themselves. The competition seemed tough, and there was good traction behind a few of the tributes in Districts where there wasn't a victor in a while.

But who were you to doubt Clove?

Her arrogance nearly got her killed towards the end, which nearly sent you spiraling, but she was able to recover and kill the boy before killing the girl that was her first target. You loved her pride sometimes, but the mentors that trained you were right - it'd be the death of you if you took it too far in the arena.

After that, Clove and Cato scouted out the last boy before it was announced that only one of them would be going home instead of a pair. Although Cato was stronger, Clove was quicker and skilled with knives, so she stuck one right in his heart before he could do any damage.

Clove showed a winning smile to the camera as her victory was announced, and you couldn't help but cheer.

Your Clove would come back home to you.

~

The train station had all sorts of people crowding around the entrance, waiting to take a gander at the newest Victor. You find yourself among the first as you await for her arrival back home.

When the train comes into view, people cheer and clap as it comes to a screeching halt. Before the train stops, you see Clove looking out one of the windows before she spots you. A wide grin spreads onto her face as you excitedly wave at her.

You were in disbelief that she was the one, out of all of those kids, to come home, but it felt so real now.

Clove Kentwell was the 74th Victor of the Hunger Games.

~

After the buzz and excitement died down, people dispersed from the train station as Clove was escorted to her family. They were happily reunited, with tears and all, and she talks with them for a few moments as you look on proudly.

She then gets a small pat on the back from her father before she comes running to you.

You immediately embrace Clove as she slams into you with all of the force in her body. You both go crashing to the ground, but the mixture of laughter in the air assures everyone that you're both okay.

"You came home." You mutter softly as she cautiously lets go of you.

"Of course I did," She smiles before resting her elbows on the ground next to you, "we had unfinished business, remember?"

Ah, the kiss.

You shyly laugh before biting your lip.

"You wanted another kiss?" You teasingly say before gently placing a strand of Clove's hair behind her ear.

"I wanted a better kiss."

Her smirk tells you all that you need as you place your hand on her face.

She pulls you in for a rough kiss as your eyes widen. You deepen the kiss for a moment as you enjoy the feeling of her lips on yours.

"I missed you." Clove breathily admits as her lips part from yours.

"I missed you more." You mumble before giving her another quick peck. "Let's get you cleaned up before your big interview at home, huh?"

"Sounds like a plan."

A genuine smile lights up her face as she helps you off of the ground. You walk, arm-in-arm, towards her new home as you fill her in on every little thing that she's missed.

[ancient-rome-au]

I was reviewing some rules of Latin grammar and I was struck at how this brief passage in Wikipedia features sample text with all the highlights of Ancient Rome. We’ve got:

Cicero writing to his friend Atticus, begging him to send any interesting news from Rome

a line discussing bathing in play that was a rip-off of an earlier Greek play

Cato telling the reader the best way to eat cabbage

Martial saying that you should laugh at and flip off anyone who calls you effeminate / implies you are a bottom

[catilinas]

there is definitely a law+lit adjacent point to be made about Guilt in the pharsalia where btw we sing [...] of legality given to crime and the idea that guilt is determined retrospectively by the winner of the civil war but also nefas as guilt or godcrime that you the reader are implicit in so maybe it’s Not just retrospective bcs the guilt reaches forwards into the future sounds kinda like a miasma thinking also abt how acc. to girard the choice of og scapegoat is actually random and the reasons for their eminent sacrificeablity are only determined later ALSO thinking about guilt and crime and how caesar’s whole THING was like. aggressively pardoning his enemies. like to lucan the legality given to crime is caesar’s retrospective justification for doing civil war but the clementia caesaris is also. that. although really “legalising” the “crime” of fighting against caesar is probably like a moral crime to lucan bcs pardoning an action implies that it WAS a crime to begin w and tbh what the pompeians did was...... not. see also: the suicide of cato the younger

[wreckofawriter]

See you around One.

Pairing: Marvel x reader

Word Count: 3,866

Warnings: Swearing? Implied smut?

Request: Hello! I have searched everywhere, trying to find an imagine or fic for my boi Marvel. When I came across your blog and finding out you could write about him, my heart- I thought of a x reader insert where the reader is from another district and she catches Marvels attention, the other careers tease him about his crush and the night before the games they meet up and kiss or sumn else 👀 Thank you :)

A/n: ok so. All of this might not be accurate from the books but like idc. Umm sorry this took so long to come out, hope you guys like it.

Marvel had never been a very romantic boy. He had never liked a girl past the thought of her being hot, he had never wished for a girl in more than a sexual way and he sure as hell never dated a girl. 

He stuck to himself in the academy and focused on training, it was easier that way. But here he was finding himself staring helplessly at you again and again, his eyes tracing over your body as you twirled a knife in your hand before thrusting it at a target, as always lodging itself into the red circle on its head. 

"Marvel!" Cato yelled clapping his hands together to gain the boys attention. 

Marvel tore his gaze away from you and glared at the other boy. 

"What?" He asked sharply, visibly annoyed with the other careers. 

"Can you please at least try and focus on something besides Four's ass?" Glimmer scoffed, "It makes us look weak." 

"Please Glimmer the only thing making us look weak is your poor attempt at a shot," Marvel mumbled, "Now hand me that bow so you know what hitting a target is." 

Glimmer rolled her eyes handing the boy the bow before walking off to talk with Clove. 

Once she left he took a few shots before letting his eyes wander back to you. He knew it was wrong, but he could help himself. 

He had first seen you in person just before the chariot parade and he had felt his breath leave his body. 

You had been dressed in a maroon strapless bikini with a fishnet dress hanging loosely over your body. Your hair had been half up half down, curled slightly at the ends. 

The boy had been in a daze the whole parade, he couldn't focus when he could run his eyes over so much of your smooth y/s/c skin. It was definitely true what they said, district four had the most attractive tributes.

Marvel was snapped from his daze when you began to head towards him. He quickly turned his gaze from you and back towards the targets attempting to ignore the color trickling up his neck. He knocked  another arrow, pulled back the string and released. It wasn't a perfect shot but it was okay.

You were now beside him and he felt his cheeks rise in temperature. 

"You almost done with that?" You asked, your voice strong and sharp. 

Marvel turned towards you. Your hair hanging in a Dutch braid a few strands falling into your face. The tight shirt and pants you were wearing brought attention to your curves, your y/e/c eyes shining dangerously. Your eyebrows were raised in anticipation, arms crossed, waiting for an answer. 

"Almost." Marvel shrugged causing you to roll your eyes impatiently. 

The tribute grabbed a final arrow all to aware of your judicious eyes watching him carefully. He once again knocked an arrow, pulling back the string and releasing smoothly.

You snorted quietly, trying to control your laughter.

Marvel turned back towards you his intense hazel eyes narrowed, "What?"

"Your doing it wrong." You laughed biting your deliciously pink lips. 

"How would you know?" He asked scornfully. 

"Well just from looking at one shot I can tell you're not floating your aim, your trying to pin-point it, which wont work well. You need to follow through mentally and focus in more in the smaller range your trying to hit" You smirked, "Also your grip is way too tight, you need to relax your hand." 

Marvel attempted to mask his embarrassment with annoyance, "Is that all?" He drawled sarcastically despite his cheeks flashing crimson. 

"Nope," You popped the 'p' in your lips. "You also should only use two fingers to pull back the string, you may feel like you have more power when you use three, but it fucks with your aim." 

"Oh." 

You laughed again, Marvel had never heard such a sweet sound. "Can I have the bow now?" 

He nodded handing you the weapon, his face red, ego damaged. 

You knocked an arrow pulling back the string and releasing, hitting the target square in the chest. 

The embarrassed boy turned to leave but was stopped by you voice, "It also helps if you focus on your shot instead of on the girl throwing knives across the room."

Marvel blushed deeply and looked at anything but you, his gaze landed on the group of three who were now laughing and giggling behind their hands at him. His eyes were brought back to you when he felt a soft tap on his shoulder. 

"I'm kidding you know, I don't really mind the staring, its refreshing." You shrugged. 

"You don't get stared at often?" Marvel said in disbelief. 

"I do, just usually by men twice my age or slimy creeps, not…" your voice trailed off as your eyes traced his body, "attractive young men." 

"Oh." Marvel repeated his face warmer than it had ever been before, he noticed a bit of color in yours as well. 

You knocked another arrow firing at the target to the left, "Also, I've seen you with a spear, your really good." 

"Thanks." Marvel mumbled scratching the back of his neck. 

"You'll have to give me some tips some time." Another arrow, this time at the target to the far right. "I can't throw a spear for shit." 

"Y-yeah, sure." Marvel stuttered feeling his heart rate pick up at the idea of talking to you again. 

"It's been fun talking to you Marvel, it's nice to know not all of the careers as assholes." You murmured nodding your head at the group of teenagers laughing at a young girl on the climbing wall.

"You too y/n." He paused before adding, "Good to know I have someone besides assholes to talk to." 

"See you around One." You smiled before setting down the bow and heading over to a rope climbing section. Marvel watched you leave in a daze a small smile twitching on his lips.

The smile disappeared quickly when the group of three began to make their way towards him. 

"How was your little chat lover boy?" Clove sneered. 

"None of your business Clove." The boy murmured walking towards a rack of swords.

"Oh he's all bitter now that his girlfriend left." Glimmer pouted humorously. 

"She's not my girlfriend." Marvel grumbled angrily, picking up a short Dao sword with leather handle. 

"Oh but you wish she was." Clove snickered. 

"Trust me your going to be happy that she isnt when were in the arena and I drive a knife through her pretty little ne-" Catos words were cut off when a sword was suddenly thrust centimeters from his neck. Glimmer gasped Clove room an instinctive step backwards.

"I'd watch what you say if I were you." Marvel hissed his voice low and dark, "Wouldn't want to get hurt now would we?"

Cato leaned forward, almost touching his neck to the sharp blade, "You need to get a hold on your emotions One, or you'll get yourself killed over some stupid girl." He spat. 

Marvels eyes darkened with rage but before any action could be taken the boys were pulled apart, the blade pushed from Marvels hand. 

You watched from your perch in the netting strug along the ceiling. You hadn't heard Marvels words but you couldn't help but smile as you watched a blade was put to Catos neck. You hoped you would be the one to get him in the arena.

The next time you and Marvel spoke was the day after the fight as you stood in line waiting for your turn to throw knives. 

You nodded your head sending silent respect to Clove. She may have been a complete bitch but she definitely had some skill. 

"You're better than her you know." Marvel stated, suddenly appearing next to you. 

"I don't know about that, but I do know I'm better than you." You smiled, turning to face the boy. He had been the first to throw, they were on target but the rotation was off causing the handle to hit the target instead of the blade. 

"Well, you are definitely better than Clove, she can hit some but she misses quite often as well. I've never seen you miss." 

"I've never seen her miss." You shrugged taking a step forward as the boy from three reached for a knife. 

"Well I have." Marvel smirked, "How did you get so good with knives? I thought tributes from four were supposed to be good with tridents and spears?"

You snorted, "We all know that spears are your thing One." 

"Well, why are you so good with knives and a bow? We all know that not fours thing." 

You sighed, "My dad cleaned fish for a living, I have been around knives my whole life. They are definitely different types but once you get good with a blade, it's easy to pick up another. I started throwing when I was nine, my dad got me a set of throwing knives for my birthday." 

Marvel nodded, he wondered what it would have been like if he hadn't trained in an academy for most of his life, what would he be good at then? 

"And I'm good with a bow because I have always been terrible with a spear. I used to use arrows with fishing line attached to fish instead. I got really good at it." 

"Cool." Marvel nodded he opened his mouth to continue the conversation but was cut off.

"District Four!" The trainer shouted. 

"See you around One." You smirked before stepping and forward grabbing the set of knives, standing on the platform to wait for the targets to light up.

 You could feel four sets of eyes boring into you, you turned to see all four Careers staring at you. Cloves mouth twitched into a sneer her eyes narrowed. 

You glared back before turning back to the targets.

You took a deep breath in and waited. The second the target lit up red you sent a blade into its chest where it landed with a thump. The next target lit up and a knife lodged itself into its head. Another target and you released a blade with perfect aim.

 You took in a deep breath, the last targets were two at once. Clove had to take one shot then the other because she couldn't throw with her left but you were used to throwing with your left hand. 

Both targets lit at once and you released a knife from each hand, hitting both in the head. You smirked looking back at the careers, Clove shrugged raising her eyebrows, Glimmer rolled her eyes and Cato was glaring at Marvel who had a lopsided smile plastered on his face. 

"You were right." You said as you descended from the platform. "I am better than Clove." 

The next two weeks were a constant flirtatious banter between you and Marvel. You would tell small stories to each other about your family's or your interests. Just quick things while you were waiting in line or practicing side by side. You would both sprinkle suggestive remarks and various complements into your conversations making the other blush as well. 

You could still feel his eyes locked on you when you spared with a trainer or climbed the wall, but it's not like you didn't stare. You had found your self following his movements as he thrust a spear into a target or admiring his muscular form as he pinned a trainer to the ground, he sure as hell wasn't ugly. 

Marvel got into one more fight before the games. It was four days before the game, the boy from district eight had been hovering around you all day, chatting and training with you. Marvel had been on nerve since he had seen the boy graze his hand along your arm that morning. 

"Somebody's jealous." Glimmer cooed as Marvels jaw clenched watching as the boy from eight showed you how to grip an axe. 

"I am not jealous." Marvel scoffed reaching for the next spear angrily and thrusting it at the target. 

"Oh please," Glimmer snickered, "a blind man could see it, your jealous because another boy is flirting with your girlfriend." 

"She's not my-

"Yeah, yeah we know, we've been over it." Clove interrupted rolling his eyes. "Catos right you know." 

"Never heard that sentence before." Marvel jeered grabbing another spear and thrusting it at the target. 

"Well he is, you need to get your emotions in check before they check you." Clove stated looking back up at Marvel who's eyes and attention was elsewhere. 

The girls followed his gaze to you and Eight just as you bent over to pick up an axe you dropped. Eights eyes danced over you hungrily before reaching out and grabbing your ass. Marvel dropped the spear he was holding with a loud clang, the two girls glanced at each other knowing this wasn't going to end well.

You spun around anger radiating from you, your eyes dark and dangerous, fists clenched. 

The boy put his hands up in surrender "Sorry." He scoffed, "I just thought you were an easy fuck." 

Your fist connected with his jaw wand he sprawled to the ground,his hand flying to his jaw. You were about to advance on him once more but Marvel beat you to it. 

He grabbed the boy off the ground lifting him by his shirt into the air, "You touch her again and I will kill you before you even get a chance to look at the arena." Marvel snarled his eyes narrowed. 

He threw the boy to the ground and began to advance on him but was pushed back by a man in white body armor. 

"Step back! I said step back!" 

"Yeah, yeah, I got it, I'm back." Marvel spoke harshly backing away his hands raised. His gaze softened when he turned to you only to be met with anger. 

Your eyes were set in an icy stare but much to Marvel's surprise it was directed straight at him.  

"Y/n?" He asked softly, taking a step towards you. 

You scoffed turning and walking away from the tribute. 

You had effectively ignored Marvel for two days, and he had no idea why. 

It made him angry, confused and  heartbroken. You wouldn't even look at him, the feeling of your eyes lingering over him disappeared completely after the fight. 

Cato and Glimmer tried to convince him to forget about you and move on and he tried, he kept telling himself it was stupid to start to like you anyway, you would be trying to kill each other in a matter of days. He thought if he had time away from you it would be easier in the arena. 

He was terribly wrong, your complete absence made things worse, he found himself imagining your touch and taste more than ever now. He had dreams about you, they varied from kissing you to killing you. Some gave him relief when he awoke, others made him wish he had stayed asleep. He missed your small chats, your cunning smile and your sweet laughter desperately. 

You sat in the private sessions waiting room running the plan you and your mentor had made over and over again in your head. He had said if you got a nine or over he could get you some sponsors. So that's what you were going to do.

You were tapping your foot nervously when the door at the front swung open to reveal Marvel, a thin layer of sweat made his face shine his dusty blonde hair was a tousled mess he glanced at you his hazel eyes locking with your y/e/c ones for just a second before yours darted away. 

The next time you saw each other was before your interviews. You were adorned in a white and blue top that reached just before your belly button with a matching skirt that had two slits in the fabric where your legs were, making the skirts material fall around your skin. Gold painted swirls twisted around your arms and legs paired with golden dots at the corner of your eyes and a golden tiara to match. 

It took everything in Marvel not to slam you against the wall and kiss you right there, but he kept his composure and calmly made his way over to you much to the other careers amusement. 

When you saw him coming you turned to leave but were stopped by his voice. 

"Please y/n, just listen to me." He begged making you turn to face him. Marvel was in a blue and yellow tux, his hair combed back neatly his eyes desperate and longing. 

"What?" you snapped harshly.

Marvel smiled a bit, he hadn't even expected you to speak to him. "You look amazi-" 

"Don't attempt to flatter me Marvel, what do you want?" You hissed despite the color rising in your cheeks. 

He leaned in close to you, his breath on your neck making you shiver. "Meet me near the elevator on the second floor at midnight tonight." He whispered, "Please." 

Marvel then walked back to the front of the line. He heard giggles from Clove and turned to face her. When he turned Cato got down to his knees in front of Clove. "Oh please, y/n please talk to me, I'm so desperately in love with you please." He mocked.

Clove responded with, "Don't attempt to flatter me!" Before bursting into a fit of giggles Cato mimicking her actions. 

"You two are childish." Marvel scoffed rolling his eyes. 

"Well at least we're not in love with a girl they are going to have to kill." Cato pointed out causing Marvel to flush.

"I'm not in love with her dumbas-

"District 1!" A voice called and Marvel rolled his eyes before ascending the stairs to the stage.

You debated meeting Marvel for a long time. On one hand you were pissd at him, on the other you really, really wanted to see him, run your hands through his soft hair and kiss his boyish pink lips.

 Finally after two hours of pacing and debating you slipped into the elevator, heart racing. You pressed the button next to the number two and listen to the soft hum as it dropped you three levels. 

The doors opened with a soft ding and you were met with a relieved pair of hazel eyes. 

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't come." Marvel said softly, reaching for you hand and pulling you through the penthouse his district was staying in. 

He lead you to a bedroom shutting the door softly before turning to face you. 

"Why are you so mad at me?" His voice was kind yet melancholy when he spoke. 

You sighed walking over to the window where you could see the people of the capital partying below. 

"I barely touched that guy I don't understand." 

"It's not about how much you hurt the guy." You huffed in annoyance. 

"Well then what is it?" Marvel asked joining you beside the window. 

"It's the fact that you stepped in, you made me look weak." You explained looking down at your hands. 

Marvel stood silently, unsure of what to do, he was slowly realizing how him stepping in to save her could appear on her end, especially in front of the gamemakers. 

"I-im really sorry, y/n I didn't mean to." The boy stuttered, "I just got so mad when I saw him touch you. I wanted to help you." 

You glared up at him, "I was fine by myself. I was handling it." 

"I know, you were, it was stupid of me to step in I just…" he exhaled loudly not exscatly sure what happened himself. "I got so angry I couldn't stop myself."

"You should try to keep your emotions in check." You scoffed. 

"You think I haven't tried?" Marvel seethed.

"Try harder." You hissed back.

"You make it very difficult!" He defend quietly, not wanting to wake the other people in the apartment.

You sighed looking down again. 

"If it's any consolation, you got a higher score than me." Marvel mumbled. 

"That did feel good." You smiled, your happiness was cut short when you were reminded of your impending doom by a particularly loud cheer from the crowd below you. 

You reached slowly for Marvel's hand brushing your knuckles against his. He quickly grabbed your hand, wrapping it in his own. 

"I don't want to have to kill you tomorrow." You mumbled a tear leaking from your y/e/c eye. 

"I know," Marvel sighed sadly lifting your chin with one of his fingers to meet his gaze. "I don't either." 

"I'm sorry." You whispered you voice breaking. 

"For what?" Marvel asked confusion momentary taking over his features. 

"For this." You murmured before placing your lips on his. 

You kissed him softly, feeling his lips dance slowly against your own, he tasted minty and sharp, reminding you of the peppermint candies you used to steal from your kitchen. When you felt his tongue grazed your lips you pulled away. 

"If I do this I don't think I'll be able to kill you." You whispered dropping his hands. 

"We only have tonight." Marvel mumbled tracing your jawline softly, "I don't want to waste it." 

Against your better judgement you slammed your lips back onto his. This kiss was much more aggressive. It was desperate and lustful, so drastic from the first kiss you shared. 

Marvel pushed you roughly against the wall sliding his tongue into your mouth without hesitation, his hands holding your waist firmly. Your own hands found the back of his neck, one of the two sliding up to his smooth hair.  

His lips moved from your own down your jaw to your neck leaving marks that were sure to be bruised tomorrow. You moaned quietly when his lips danced just above your collarbone. 

Marvel lifted you up and walked you over to the bed his lips meeting yours quickly because the truth was you did only have one night. 

The next morning you woke to a shriek followed by muffled giggles.

You darted upward to see Glimmer standing in the door entrance hand clasped over her mouth, eyes wide.

"Oh my god!" She yelled making you flush red when you realized you had no clothes on and was in an equally naked boys arms. 

Marvel quickly jerked awake flashing red before yelling "Glimmer get out!" And throwing a pillow at the girl before turning to you. 

"Sorry, she has no concept of personal space." He mumbled, face a light pink. 

"I better get out of here." You sighed sadly, wanting to stay in bed with him forever.

"Yeah. You probably should." Marvel agreed his voice equally glum. 

You stood up the cold air hitting you in a wave before you gathered your clothes and got dressed. 

The whole time you could feel his eyes following you. You turned and looked at the boy, a small forced smile taking your lips. 

"See you around One." You mumbled before turning and walking out through the door. 

[lemon-russ]

good news my fever broke and my regular illness of putting Cato in situations returned

this upcoming arc has been haunting my brain since someone?? prob moodymisty?? posted a list of trope-y things Cato would be forced to endure as a body guard, specifically diplomat going to a warm planet with balls and wearing revealing dresses and making him p a n i k. anyone knows the post lemme know it's haunted me forever.

Part 8/ ???

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 7.5 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10

Cato Sicarius x F!Reader

(both POVs today)

CW: Vague alluding to sex, Cato back to being mean

Summary: Ambassador heads off on vacation with Titus, Cato takes it SUPER well and is very normal

word count: 1,720

You try not to pout as you sit on the ship heading out to the planet you were being forced to take a vacation to.

Commander Titus and a couple of lower rank ultramarine's sit across from you, talking politely among themselves. Guilliman has forced you to rest after the scare you gave him on that planet that rebelled.

You sigh a bit. You heard Cato swept through the place in a day with the second company. Titus said he was on a warpath- he always delighted in battle, but this one was a personal vengeance against the people that put them through all the trouble of having to rescue the both of you.

Now you're off to a particularly pleasant agri-world, renown for their fruits and home to hot spring baths and nightly dances. The marines with you weren't thrilled about standing around while you relaxed on warm beaches, but unlike Cato, they would never dare voice it. You were a high ranking diplomat, personal ambassador to Guilliman. Most marines show you a modicum of general respect. Then again most ultramarines were very professional all around. Cato is an outlier in his attitude and disrespect.

Which is nice. It's nice to not be bullied and teased. Nice to not have a whining huffing rain cloud following you. Nice… and a little boring. The two lower rank marines don't talk much, and when they do it’s polite “yes, Ma'am.” And “of course, Lady Ambassador.” Titus was a little better, still reserved, but seemed to at least understand you were looking for conversation, so tried his best.

You smiled at him a bit. “Will you be taking part in any of the activities, Commander?” You ask, desperate for conversation. He smiles politely. “Ah, no, Lady Ambassador. That would mean I'd not be properly guarding you, and, I am here to guard you.” He said apologetically. You sigh. “You mean here to babysit me…” you mumble, putting your head on your hand and looking out the window. Babysit was the word Guilliman used for it, specifically. Calling you a disobedient child when he'd found you sneaking paperwork.

Titus let out a soft chuckle. “I'd never want to imply you were childish, my lady.” He said with a small smile. “I am merely here to ensure a less dramatic trip for you than last time.” you sigh. You were disappointed when Guilliman told you he was removing Cato from your guard. You don't know why you were. He was a huge pain in the ass, a bully, and caused most of the issues. But your mind flashed to him pinning you to that cave wall and you flushed a little. Damn it, Cato. You couldn't get that day out of your head.

He would have just cause you issues here, too. But you had secretly hoped a bit that you'd get to convince him to join you in a hot spring- no, no stop that. Its bad enough you kissed him for some reason. Everything is so complicated with him now. You hate him a little, but you also kinda really like him, and you definitely are attracted to him… and you can't get all these images and memories of him out of your head. He's haunting you and it's making you angry at him by proxy. Stupid Cato.

Titus glances at you a bit while you think. “Lady Ambassador? You look upset, is all well…?” He asks with a small frown. You blush a little, sitting up properly. “Ah, sorry. Just have things on my mind. No need to worry, Commander.” You say, composing yourself. He looks unconvinced. “Ah, I wont pry then, my lady.” He said politely.

Cato would pry, you think. No, that is unfair to Titus. He is very kind, more personable than most other ultramarines too. But he's so… professional. And polite. He sometimes will respond with a light joke if you do so first, or laugh at something. But mostly he just smiles and nods and stands an appropriate distance away. As he should, that's how a bodyguard should act. But you'd gotten used to Cato cracking jokes at your expense, and insulting random passing nobles, and walking right next to you to force you to walk into walls and things. Which is annoying. But at least it was something.

The thunderhawk jolted a little as it began to land, and for a split second your heart skipped a beat and your hand jumped to your harness. You'd been a bit jumpy about flying in small craft since the thunderhawk crash. And much more on top of keeping buckled in.

Commander Titus frowns as you flinch and grab the belt, lifting a hand a little towards you, “Ah- my lady? Are you alright?” He asked politely, confused about what happened. You frown a bit, “oh, yes, sorry. Just, a little spooked by the landing…” you play it off a bit, giving a tight smile. He raises his brow but nods and sits back as the thunderhawk finishes its landing sequence.

The marines help you unload your things and you get off the ship and look at the pretty planet you’ve landed on. Lush tropic greenery, warm breezes, greco-romann looking buildings with lots of open to the air arches. there’s a beach and gentle waves nearby, and you think you hear a waterfall. You try and force yourself to stop thinking about how much work you’ll have back home, but what if Guilliman didn’t understand your file system? did he get those things filed in time- No, stop it, relax.

You sigh, pursing your lips. you take all your unwanted thoughts, worries about work, worries about deadlines, and the stupid thoughts of Cato Sicarius saving you from burning shipwrecks and pinning you to walls- and you file them all away in your mind in your mental LATER pile. You sigh, and try and soak in the warm air. You’ll get to it, in a few days. You were ordered to relax, and you hate not following orders.

___________________________________________________________

Cato paced the training fields, watching some of the newer aspirants to the Ultramarines do drills. They’d all passed trials, and it was one of his responsibilities to keep up on new recruits to the company. He didn’t normally take fresh marines, but he liked to keep an eye out for talented new Astartes. He needed the distraction anyways.

That world had been far to easy to run through, barley taking a day to fall to the impirium. It was meant to calm him, leading the charge, but it was only more infuriating how he had been cornered by people so weak and low tech. He growled to himself, and pulled his un-powered power sword out, practicing his regular drills on the combat dummy. Stupid primitive world. Stupid Titus, gallivanting on that stupid romance planet with the Ambassador- he chopped a chunk of the dummy off- Stupid Ambassador, kissing him randomly and then barely talking to him for two days- another chunk flew off- Stupid, warp-damned woman keeping him up all night, haunting his mind- The dummy shattered into a splintered mess with a hard swing. He growled, then stomped it a few times. Stupid combat dummy that can’t even take him going light on it.

He lets out a frustrated snarl and throws his sword to the ground, running his hands through his hair. What were they doing right now, his throne damned commander and the ambassador? Nothing good could come from them locked away together for days on a planet Guilliman described as “one of the few places left a noble could take a honeymoon.” He bets Titus is being unprofessional- he never knew how to stick to the rules. He bets he's taking her dancing- he's probably stealing a dance with her right now. She always dresses so impractically, and it's warm there, is she wearing something even more revealing? Is Titus eyeing her the way he did?

He heel stomps the dummy once more for good measure, picks up his blade, and storms off toward the Hangar. He has to go fight something, anything. He'll ask around for leads on something to kill and go focus on things that actually matter, like defending the Imperium. And not stupid, vapid women who probably are taking the first chance alone with Titus to give him secret kisses and hide away in corners with, doing emperor knows what in hot spring pools. He's fooling himself thinking he'd be an exception anyways, the way she smiles at everyone who looks at her, she's probably in everyone's beds. Everyone's but his.

He slams his fist on the button to open the hangar doors. One of his men looks up at him and grimaces. “Are we going out again today, sir…?” He asks, and Cato just nods and scowls. “Get everyone together, we're going… going… somewhere- it doesn't matter, just get the men in here!” He snaps. The marine frowns but nods, scrambling up to follow his orders.

He lets out a long, frustrated sigh, gripping his hair a bit as he runs his fingers back through it. If Titus lays a finger on her, he's going to kill him. He doesn't care if that's the worst thing a marine can do, betray a battle brother. Titus would be betraying him first, touching his woman- he stops dead in his tracks.

When did he start thinking of her as his?

Holy golden throne, she's driving him mad and she's not even here. She's broken his mind, flipped some switch he can't find to turn off again. He hates this, he hates her- but by the emperor, he hates the thought of her and Titus doing what he and she had done most. He grits his teeth and smashes his helmet on, stomping onto a thunderhawk. If his men weren't here in 30 seconds he was going without them. He white knuckled the hilt of his power sword.

In his mind he was desperately trying to shove all these feelings and thoughts into the overflowing WEAKNESS box, but there was just nothing rational left to think about. He's hanging on by a thread, and his men now have 20 seconds to be on this ship before he went and tore through some Orks alone.

[imaginesbymk]

fandom list.

categories:

Films

TV Shows

YouTube ASMR Voice Audios (misc.)

* Italics = a character I will only write platonically.

—films

The Maze Runner

Thomas / Teresa Agnes / Newt / Minho / Frypan / Gally / Brenda / Aris / Sonya / Harriet

Janson / Ava Paige

The Hunger Games

Katniss Everdeen / Primrose Everdeen / Peeta Mellark / Gale Hawthorne / Finnick Odair / Haymitch Abernathy / Cato / Clove / Glimmer / Foxface / Enobaria / Johanna Mason / Effie Trinket

Rue / President Snow / President Alma Coin / Cinna

Titanic (1997)

Jack Dawson / Rose DeWitt Bukater / Fabrizio / Cal Hockley / and maybe the ship officers

Triple Frontier

Tom “Redfly” Davis / Santiago “Pope” Garcia / Francisco “Catfish” Morales / William “Ironhead” Miller / Ben Miller / Yovanna

Reservoir Dogs

Mr. Orange / Mr. Pink / Mr. Brown / Mr. Blonde / Mr. White / Nice Guy Eddie

Pulp Fiction

Vincent Vega / Jules Winnfield / Mia Wallace / Butch / Ringo "Pumpkin

Inglourious Basterds

Aldo Raine / Donny Dorowitz / Shosanna Dreyfus “Emmanuelle Mimieux” / Marcel / Archie Hicox / Bridget Von Hammersmark / Hugo Stiglitz

Hans Landa, Major Dieter Hellstrom, Fredrick Zoller (in some cases, I can write implied topics but nothing of my writing condones Landa, Hellstrom or Zoller’s actions as N*zis - in no way am I tangentially condoning their actions in this film - so they are written platonically - preferably as enemies of the reader)

Dunkirk

Tommy / Peter / George / Gibson / Alex / Collins / Farrier / Soldier (Cillian Murphy)

Midsommar

Dani Ardor / Christian Hughes / Josh / Mark / Pelle

Heathers (1989)

The Heathers / Veronica Sawyer / Jason “J.D” Dean

Scream franchise

(1996) Sidney Prescott / Billy Loomis / Stu Macher / Randy Meeks / Tatum Riley / Dewey Riley / Gale Weathers

(2000) Roman Bridger

(2022) Tara / Sam / Amber / Richie / Chad

—tv shows

Gotham

Bruce Wayne / Selina Kyle / Edward Nygma / Oswald Cobblepot / Jim Gordon / Jerome Valeska / Jeremiah Valeska / Ecco / Barbara Kean / Tabitha Galavan / Jervis Tetch / Lee Thompkins / Ivy Pepper (older), Fish Mooney, Eduardo Dorrance “Bane” / Ra’s Al-Gul / Victor Zsasz, Jonathan Crane “Scarecrow”

Harvey Bullock, Alfred Pennyworth, Butch Gilzean

Squid Game

Gi-Hun / Sang-Woo / Kang Sae-byeok / Hwang Jun-ho / Ali Abdul / Ji-yeong

Arcane (League of Legends)

Vi / Jinx / Caitlyn Kiramman / Sevika / Silco / Vander / Ekko / Jayce Talis / Viktor / Mel Medarda / Deckard 

Powder (younger) 

Euphoria

Rue Bennett / Jules Vaughn / Maddy Perez / Cassie Howard / Lexi Howard / Kat Hernandez / McKay / Fezco / Elliot

Gia Bennett / Ashtray

***will not write for Nate, Cal or Aaron Jacobs***

Skins (UK)

Generation 1: Tony Stonem / Sid Jenkins / Cassie Ainsworth /  Michelle Richardson / Jal Fazer / Chris Miles / Anwar Kharral / Maxxie Oliver (no female pairing unless platonic/familial)

Generation 2: Effy Stonem / Pandora Moon / James Cook / Freddy McClair / JJ Jones / Thomas Tomone / Katie & Emily Fitch / Naomi Campbell

Generation 3: Franky Fitzgerald / Mini McGuiness / Alo Creevey / Rich Hardbeck / Liv Malone / Grace Blood

The Haunting of Hill House

Steven Crain / Shirley Crain / Theo Crain / Nell Crain / Luke Crain

Young!Crain siblings, Hugh Crain, Olivia Crain

The Haunting of Bly Manor

Dani Clayton / Jamie / Peter Quint / Rebecca Jessel / Owen / Hannah Grose

Henry Wingrave / Flora Wingrave / Miles Wingrave

Black Mirror

Bandersnatch: Stefan Butler / Colin Ritman

Fifteen Million Merits: Bingham Madsen / Abi Khan

Be Right Back: Ash Starmer

White Christmas: Matt

San Junipero: Kelly / Yorkie

Hated in the Nation: Karin Parke / Blue Colson

USS Callister: Nanette Cole, Walton, Elena Tulaska, Shania

Hang the DJ: Frank / Amy

Kenny (Shut Up & Dance) / Robert Daly (USS Callister)

*I do not write for all Black Mirror episodes*

The Pacific

Bob Leckie / John Basilone / Manny Rodriguez / Lew “Chuckler” Juergens / Wilbur “Runner” / Conley Andrew “Ack Ack” Haldane / Eddie “Hillbilly” Jones / Bill “Hoosier” Smith / Eugene Sledge / Merriell “Snafu” Shelton / Sid Phillips / Jay D’Leau / Bill Leyden / R.V Burgin / Vera Keller / Lena Riggi

Superstore

Jonah / Amy / Dina / Garrett / Cheyenne / Mateo / Marcus / Bo

Glenn Sturgis

The Queen’s Gambit

Beth Harmon / Jolene / Benny Watts / D.L Townes / Harry Beltik

The Good Place

Michael / Eleanor Shellstrop / Chidi Anagonye / Tahani Al-Jamil / Jason Mendoza / Janet

The Walking Dead (S1-11)

Rick Grimes / Shane Walsh / Daryl Dixon / Carl Grimes / Glenn Rhee / Maggie Rhee / Beth Greene / Michonne Hawthorne / Negan / Simon / Enid / Rosita Espinosa / Yumiko / Magna / Connie / Kelly / Jesus / Siddiq / Noah / Cyndie / Tara Chambler / Dwight / Sherry / Sasha Williams / Eugene Porter / Jerry / King Ezekiel / Abraham Ford

Aaron, Lydia, Judith Grimes, Henry Peletier, Sophia Peletier

Dracula (BBC/2020 Netflix original)

Count Dracula / Agatha Van Helsing / Zoe Van Helsing / Jonathan Harker / Jack

Peaky Blinders (S1-S6)

Tommy Shelby / Arthur Shelby / Ada Thorne / John Shelby / Finn Shelby / Polly Gray / Michael Gray / Grace Burgess / Lizzie Starke / May Carleton / Alfie Solomons / Luca Changretta / Tatiana Petrovna / Gina Gray / Aberama Gold / Bonnie Gold

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Jake Peralta / Amy Santiago / Rosa Diaz / Charles Boyle, Gina Linetti

Raymond Holt / Kevin Cozner

Shadowhunters

Clary Fray / Jace Wayland / Alec Lightwood / Isabelle Lightwood / Magnus Bane / Simon Lewis / Maia Roberts / Luke Garroway / Raphael / Jordan Kyle / Seelie Queen / Meliorn / Hodge Starkweather / Helen Blackthorn / Aline Penhallow

Jonathan Morgenstern / Sebastian Verlac (as disguise) / Valentine Morgenstern / Jocelyn Fray / Maryse Lightwood / Max Lightwood / Camille Belcourt

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington / Jonathan Byers / Nancy Wheeler / Robin Buckley /  Eddie Munson / Chrissy Cunningham / Dmitri Antonov / 001/Henry Creel/”Peter” (not writing him as Vecna) / Jim Hopper / Joyce Byers

Eleven / Mike Wheeler / Will Byers / Lucas Sinclair / Dustin Henderson / Max Mayfield

***no longer writing for Billy Hargrove***

—youtube asmr voice audios (misc)

ZSakuVA 

Professor Andrew Marston (Strict Professor series)

CardlinAudio

[maxwellyjordan]

Adjourned: Overlawyered to cease publication May 31

Dear friends and Overlawyered readers:

I’ve been considering ceasing publication of Overlawyered over the past couple of years, and the time has finally arrived. I plan to publish its final post on May 31, ten days from now.

That will leave the site just one month short of a remarkable 21-year run. That makes it the longest-running general interest law blog anyone has been able to identify. It’s one of the monuments still standing from the heyday of individual blogging on current events and public policy, a sector that bloomed after 9/11 two years into our run.

It has been a pleasure beyond compare to write it. But blogs that publish every day (and with only a few exceptions, that is what Overlawyered has managed to do for all these years) are extraordinarily time-intensive for a single author, and my time is constrained.

Be assured (if you count this as assurance!) that I am not going anywhere. I look forward to continuing my writing as a Cato senior fellow both at the excellent multi-contributor blog Cato at Liberty and at many other outlets. One reason I’m making this decision is that I’m eager to step up the pace of this other writing at a time rich in policy challenges.

Even in its early years Overlawyered had a much broader range of interests than its name might imply. It covered (and still does cover) wacky lawsuits as well as the more serious side of litigation policy but also many areas of writing interest of mine such as free speech and business regulation. Especially since it came to Cato ten years ago, it has continued to branch out into such areas as constitutional law, criminal justice policy, and state and local policy. But at heart it has always been a blog about law in America.

I’ll have more to say in coming days to recognize and thank the site’s community of readers, contributors, and guestbloggers, to talk matters of transition and what will live on in what forms (I expect the archives to be fully available for the indefinite future, thanks Cato), to reminisce, and also to do a bit of regular blog posting as the impulse strikes. Just this once, I’m leaving comments closed on this post, but they will be open on a nearby related post.

Tags: about the site

from Law http://www.overlawyered.com/2020/05/adjourned-overlawyered-to-cease-publication-may-31/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[nyonyo-writer]

Structure

Day #10

To me, the word “structure” implies a broad meaning. Last weeks haven’t been easy, nor this 365-day project. Nonetheless, I’m trying to keep up the goal alive. 

Regarding structure, a structure is a powerful tool. To keep a project going, to have a healthy sleep cycle and eating habits for example. And very much structure is involved in storytelling.

So, first structured decision making is project management.

Focus on the story of the game first.

Second structured decision making is to learn about structured storytelling.

Recently, I stumbled upon this course (realizing a pattern here) it has a really interesting approach and its free. I love to learn, and mentorship is one of the most successful methods for me. You can check it here if you want. A 10-day course on “How to Plot a Novel Using the 3-Act Story Structure” by Reedsy. Reedsy a network of world-class publishing professionals, you can learn more about them here. 

I’m not going to publish the whole course, but rather give my understanding and some further research and readings about the topic.

In my opinion, the class is intended for newbies, like me. The first class is, guess what, about the 3-act structure. Perhaps such structure paradigm is more widely recognizable and more feasible for new writers. Even thou, I’m very interested in the underlying principles of story-telling, definitely, not every story is structured in that way, nor every life event, movie, novel, video game plot, follow the same conventions.

As I dive deeper and learn, I will try to unravel more details and perhaps find, or merge a suitable storytelling process for the story I want to tell for a video game.

Basically, the 3-act structure follows a somewhat intuitive pattern; set-up, conflict, resolution. Each act can be dissected into smaller parts. Reedsy enumerates like this:

Act #1 I like to call it “set-up”

The Hook, which captivates readers by introducing the protagonist and teasing the story’s conflict;

The Inciting Incident, which serves as the protagonist’s first call to adventure;

The First Plot Point, which launches the protagonist into the heart of the story.

Act #2 “Conflict” 

The Pre-Midpoint Rising Action, in which the protagonist cautiously sets out to achieve their goal while shying away from conflict with the story’s antagonist;

The Midpoint, a major conflict between the protagonist and antagonist that highlights the story’s stakes and irrevocably changes the protagonist’s viewpoint;

The Post-Midpoint Rising Action, in which the protagonist no longer hesitates to confront the antagonist while fighting to achieve their goal.

Act #3 “Resolution”

The Dark Night of The Soul, in which the protagonist suffers an unexpected loss that forces them into a make-or-break situation;

The Climactic Sequence, which serves as the final conflict between the protagonist and antagonist;

The Resolution, in which all or most of the story’s loose ends are resolved.

As a matter of exercise, The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins can be dissected and try to find out if the story can fit into the 3-act structure.

I might get this one wrong, but anyway... let’s see:

Act #1: 

The hook: Katniss, Peeta and Gale characters and the relationship between them is presented, other important characters are shown as Primrose. The district context, everyday life of characters and Hunger Games reaping is presented.

The inciting incident: The reaping, the ballot process. Primrose is selected but Katniss volunteers instead of her, for the Hunger Games, Peeta is selected as the male tribute.

The first plot point: Tributes die! :( 

Act #2:

The Pre-Midpoint Rising Action: Katniss is starting to show defiance to the establishment of Capitol, rivalries between contestants added heating up to the start of the event.

The Midpoint: The hunger games start, Katniss allied with Rue, Peeta on the other hand allies with the “bad guys”.

The Post-Midpoint Rising Action: Rue is killed, Katniss reacts killing Rue’s assassin.

Act #3: 

The Dark Night of The Soul: Rules are changed, same district contestants can now team up. Katniss finds Peeta injured and risks her life to heal him. Now they know they have to face Cato.

The Climactic Sequence: Katniss and Peeta face Cato, mercy killing him as he is mauled by wolves. Destined to kill each other Peeta retrieves poisonous berries that he took early and they decide to kill each other. Seneca changes the rules, and declare them both winners of the 74th Hunger Games.

The Resolution: Peeta and Katniss are healed in the Capitol district, and returned to district 12. Haymitch tells Katniss to play along with the Capitol to stay out of trouble. But Katniss has other plans.

This is a really interesting exercise for storytelling. Like I said before, I could have messed it up somewhere but roughly or not, it gives you a really thoughtful appreciation of the story.

Keep learning!! 

[kit-kat-katie]

Come Back Home

A/N: As an unapologetic Clove stan, I'm happy to write something for her. I'm thinking about writing for Glimmer too, but idk, we'll see ;)

TW: Fluff if you disregard what happens in the first book :), weapons, fighting

Pairing: Clove Kentwell x Reader (implied romantic)

Summary: As the 74th Hunger Games approaches, you train with Clove to prepare her for what's to come. When The Reaping occurs, Clove makes a promise that you can only hope that she's able to keep.

It wasn't fair.

She was better with close-range combat and could put you on the ground in under a minute.

You were better with long-ranged combat - spears, bows, and anything that could deal damage from a range was your bread and butter.

Still, you try to look as menacing as possible as you stand toe-to-toe with Clove Kentwell. You know you'll get your ass kicked, but you might as well put on a good show, right?

A whistle blows, and she's the first to charge at you. You quickly step aside as you find yourself playing defense - your first mistake.

You nearly step off of the mat as you dodge another swing from her. A vicious smile sits on her face as you realize that you've somehow managed to get yourself into a corner - your second mistake.

Your third and final mistake was trying to do something instead of bracing for impact. You attempted to tackle her, but she quickly moved aside as you came crashing to the ground.

You roll over before Clove climbs on top of you. You feel the heat rise to your cheek as she pulls a fake knife from her training uniform.

You pretend to be in pain as she stabs your upper torso, and you stick your tongue out and play dead as she gets off of you.

You hear her laugh as you tilt your head to her.

"You're an idiot, you know." She says before offering you a hand up.

You nod before taking her hand.

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot."

~

Hand-in-hand, you and Clove make your way to the Reaping - the place where Clove will have the honor of being District 2's female tribute in the 74th Hunger Games. There was no guarantee that she'd be reaped, but she was given the right to volunteer by fighting her way up the ranks.

"You good?" You softly ask before squeezing her hand.

"I'm okay. I'll just miss home, that's all."

"Not me?" You take offense at her statement as she scoffs.

"You're a part of my home, so I'll miss you most of all."

You bite your lip as you approach the Peacekeepers, and you let go of her hand.

"I'll be watching you." You warmly smile at her before giving her a quick hug.

A cocky smile rests on her face.

"I know. All of Panem will be there too."

You don't think the escort can fully read the name out of the ladies' bowl before Clove volunteers. Full of energy and life, she bounces up to the stage and takes Cato's hand. The crowd goes wild, with you included, and the 74th Hunger Games are going to commence with Cato and Clove in them.

~

You're silent as the Peacekeepers escort you inside of a small room. You see Clove say goodbye to her family before turning to you.

"I'm so proud of you." You softly mumble before giving her a tighter hug. "I'll miss you while you're gone."

"I'll be back, I promise." Clove lets go before taking your hands in hers.

"Come back home safe, alright?" You blink away the tears in your eyes as she silently nods.

"I will."

You embrace her again before letting go for good.

"Oh, and one last thing-"

You give her a quick peck on the cheek, which causes a small blush to appear on her face.

"-a good luck charm for my favorite tribute."

[kristinsimmons]

Misdiagnosis: Obamacare Tried to Fix the Wrong Things and Prescribed the Wrong Treatments

By CHARLES SILVER and DAVID A.HYMAN

Today THCB is happy to publish a piece reflecting the learnings from Charles Silver and David Hyman’s forthcoming book Overcharged: Why Americans Pay Too Much For Health Care, shortly to be published by the libertarian leaning Cato Institute. In subsequent weeks we’ll feature commentary from the right radical libertarian zone on the political game board (Michael Cannon) and from the left (Andy Slavitt) about the book and its proposals. For now please give your views in the comments–Matthew Holt

There are many reasons why the United States is “the most expensive place in the world to get sick.” In Part 1 of Overcharged: Why Americans Pay Too Much For Health Care, we show that the main reason is that we pay for medical treatments the wrong way. Instead of having consumers purchase these treatments directly, we route trillions of dollars through third-parties payers – both government and private insurers.

Relying on third party payers has many consequences — few of them good. To start with, this arrangement removes the budgetary constraint that would otherwise cap the amount consumers are willing to spend. By minimizing the direct cost of treatments at the point of sale, third party payment arrangements alter everyone’s incentives fundamentally. Consumers no longer need worry about balancing marginal costs against marginal benefits; instead, they have an incentive to use all treatments that have any potential to help, regardless of their prices. When millions of consumers act on these incentives, total spending skyrockets and consumers collectively wind up worse off, because their fixed costs spiral upward too. Heavy reliance on third party payers creates a classic failure of collective action.

It isn’t just consumers. Providers love third party payment as well. And why not? Once providers have access to the enormous bank accounts of third party payers, the sky is the limit, at least until third party payers start setting limits on the amounts they will pay and saying no to unproven and/or cost-ineffective treatments that doctors want to provide and patients want to receive.

Not surprisingly, it has turned out to be extraordinarily difficult and politically unpopular for third party payers to set such limits. Obamacare’s appeal derives largely from two requirements: health insurance plans must accept all comers, including applicants with preexisting conditions that require expensive medical treatments; and health plans must provide unlimited benefits (i.e., no annual or lifetime spending caps). From an individual consumer’s perspective, what could be better than having access to unlimited amounts of money to spend on medical needs? From society’s point of view, though, this combination is a recipe for disaster.

Medicare hasn’t been able to do much about this problem either. In Medicare Part B, the program simply pays whatever price the drug companies ask – even if the treatments offer only marginal benefits over existing (and far cheaper) treatments. Medicare Part D is better, since private plans can use formularies to create competition among drug manufacturers. But even here, there are limits, since plans are required to cover all drugs in six “protected” classes: immunosuppressants, antidepressants, antipsychotics, anticonvulsants, antiretrovirals, and antineoplastics.

Why is Medicare such a patsy when it comes to drug prices? Politics. If CMS were to refuse to pay for an effective medication because of its price, cries of rationing—the third rail of health politics—would quickly fill the air. The AARP would pack the halls of Congress with seniors in wheelchairs, drug makers and the AMA would send in hundreds of lobbyists and doctors in white coats, and pandering politicians would inundate CMS with demands to pay for the drug. Knowing full well how this scenario would play out, no head of CMS who wanted to hold onto the job would risk incurring the backlash in the first place.

Private insurers haven’t done much better. In fact, there is an emerging consensus that private insurers don’t care about prices nearly as much as they should. “Widely perceived as fierce guardians of health care dollars, insurers, in many cases, aren’t. In fact, they often agree to pay high prices, then, one way or another, pass those high prices on to patients — all while raking in healthy profits.”

The main problem with our health care system is that the prices are too damned high. Consider the conclusion of a well-known study published in Health Affairs in 2003:

In 2000 the United States spent considerably more on health care than any other country, whether measured per capita or as a percentage of GDP. At the same time, most measures of aggregate utilization such as physician visits per capita and hospital days per capita were below the OECD median. Since spending is a product of both the goods and services used and their prices, this implies that much higher prices are paid in the United States than in other countries. But U.S. policymakers need to reflect on what Americans are getting for their greater health spending. They could conclude: It’s the prices, stupid.

In case anyone missed the point, the same authors published a follow-up paper in 2004, entitled “It’s The Prices, Stupid: Why The United States Is So Different From Other Countries.”

A decade later, little had changed. That’s when the late Uwe Reinhardt, one of the authors of the two studies already mentioned, wrote a column entitled “U.S. Health Care Prices Are the Elephant in the Room.” Additional confirmation arrived in 2018, when JAMA published a study finding that “Prices of labor and goods, including pharmaceuticals, and administrative costs appeared to be the major drivers of the difference in overall cost between the United States and other high-income countries.” If third party payers had been doing a good job of controlling prices, none of these publications would have been written.

Part 1 of Overcharged documents the real-world consequences of our third-party payment system. For example, Chapter 2, focuses on the prices drug makers charge for new medications. When the sky is the limit, pharma companies maximize their profits by developing new medications on which they hold monopolies and by charging absurd amounts. Often, these medications confer minimal benefits.  “The 72 cancer therapies approved from 2002 through 2014 gave patients only 2.1 more months of life than older drugs,” but 11 of the 12 approved in 2012 were priced above $100,000 per course of treatment. The tally was even higher in 2016, when the approved drugs cost an average of $171,000 a year. “Although the high prices can lead patients to think they’re getting the Mercedes of cancer drugs, research shows that a medication’s price has no relationship to how well it works.” The situation is so bad that “[a] group of academic researchers has demanded an end to cancer medicines costing more than $100,000 a year.”

By comparison to the prices being demanded for the new CAR T-cell cancer treatments, $100,000 seems like a bargain. Novartis set Kymriah’s price at $475,000, a level that, in the words of Dr. Leonard Saltz, chief of gastrointestinal oncology at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in New York, “shattered oncology drug pricing norms.” And that’s just the price of the drug. Kymriah requires lengthy hospital stays and can have serious side effects, including immune system reactions, stroke-like symptoms, and coma. Some patients who receive it need bone marrow transplants and other expensive procedures. The total cost per patient could reach $1.5 million. With 21 other CAR T-cell treatments currently under development, the cost of treating cancer patients seems bound to increase.

What’s true for cancer treatments is also true for other specialty drugs. “[S]pecialty drugs account for less than 2 percent of all prescriptions, [but] they make up roughly 30 percent of spending on all prescription drugs.” “That is projected to grow to 50% in 2017, according to Express Scripts, the pharmacy benefits manager.” The growing number of high-priced specialty drugs is a primary reason that total spending on prescription drugs is expected to exceed $590 billion by 2020, up from $337 billion in 2015.

The absence of a ceiling on prices is a serious problem, but it is far from the only pathology caused by our heavy reliance on third-party payers. There is also the gaming of payment rules, quality indifference, waste, and fraud. Part 1 delves into these consequences in nauseating detail. One reader, a well-known health economist, told us that, after finishing this part of the book, he felt like he needed a shower. Another health economist complained the book made him depressed about his career choice. When even practitioners of the dismal science find the stories and statistics overwhelming, it is clear that the problems we document are pervasive and severe.

Many knowledgeable observers believe that something on the order of one-third of dollars spent on health care are wasted. Donald Berwick and Andrew Hackbarth offered a mid-point estimate of the 2011 cost of waste to the U.S. health care system of $910 billion, with an upper bound of $1.263 trillion. Paul Keckley and coauthors reached a similar conclusion in 2015. And as health care spending continues to grow, the number of wasted dollars does too.

Why so much waste? Because our third-party-dominated payment system corrupts everyone’s incentives. As explained previously, consumers care about neither costs nor the ratio of marginal cost to marginal benefit. Providers gain by maximizing their billings, which they do using multiple schemes. Many are illegitimate and inappropriate. Some expose patients to unwarranted risks. Payers have neither the incentive to ferret out waste nor the resources that a serious undertaking would require.

Put simply, third-party payment creates an enormous need for monitoring because the incentive—always present in first-party arrangements—to demand value for the dollar is lost. This monitoring problem has never been solved, and never will be solved, because the health care sector is too large to be policed. It is easier for payers to recoup dollars lost to fraud, waste, and abuse by raising premiums and collecting higher tax revenues than it is to keep providers and patients honest.

The lack of a price ceiling and the extraordinary sums lost to waste are the problems that Obamacare should have tried to fix. Unfortunately, it didn’t address either.  Instead, it made both problems considerably worse. The Medicaid expansion and the new insurance rules brought tens of millions of new people under the comprehensive third-party payment umbrella.

Therein lies the problem. Most mainstream health policy analysts believe that the biggest problem in health care today is that millions of people are uninsured. A large fraction of the population, especially voters who identify as Democrats, feels the same way. For both groups, the preferred solution is more and more comprehensive insurance. The large and growing base of support for Senator Bernie Sanders’ Medicare-for-All proposal reflects this belief. But it should be obvious that our heavy reliance on third-party payment arrangements is the major driver of our health care cost crisis.

Third-party payment is the disease, not the cure. This will be no prospect of reducing health care spending until this point is understood.

Charlie Silver holds a Chair in Civil Procedure at the School of Law, University of Texas at Austin. David A. Hyman is Professor of Law at the Georgetown Law Center. They are both Adjunct Scholars at the Cato Institute.  

Misdiagnosis: Obamacare Tried to Fix the Wrong Things and Prescribed the Wrong Treatments published first on https://wittooth.tumblr.com/