#ethan's parrot

[kitweewoos]

An Incomplete List of Questions I'd Like to Ask the Chicago Med Writers

Where's Ethan's parrot?

What happened to Kol?

How come we never saw Claire Rhodes again?

How did she handle Cornelius' death?

What's Robin up to?

Is Anna Charles okay? I miss her.

What's going on with Denise Lockwood?

How come there's no queer doctors in your hospital?

Why is Crockett Marcel so fruity if you're not going to make him bi or pan?

[rafeysbafey]

✮ COOKIES ARE READY — ETHAN LANDRY

SUMMARY. you do the “avoiding my boyfriends kisses” prank on tiktok with ethan

WARNINGS. soft!ethan, fluff, vv suggestive content at end

WORD COUNT. 0.8k

you were lazily scrolling through tiktok as you laid comfortably on the couch, humming to yourself as you waited for ethan to get back from econ.

you were about to leave the app and go find something else to occupy the time, but stopped when a certain video caught your eye.

‘avoiding my boyfriend’s kisses prank.’

you watched the video with curiosity, giggling when you saw how confused the girls boyfriend was—soon ending with them both on the floor play fighting when he found out.

a new idea sparked in your head as you now impatiently waited for ethan to come back, deciding to bake yourself some cookies in the meantime.

about an hour went by as you finished baking, pulling the tray of baked goods out of the oven with a satisfied smile on your face.

just as you were about to set a timer for them to cool, the door opened to reveal just the person you’ve been waiting for.

“something smells good!” he said, immediately picking up on the faint smell of chocolate that floated through the air.

quickly—you set the timer before perching your phone up between a few cook books, making sure to drape a small hand towel over to cover it more.

“hey eth,” you smiled, trying to act normal as you started to clean up your mess, “i made your fav.”

you heard him approach you from behind, his arms wrapping around your waist as he squeezed you gently.

“you’re the best, babe,” he said, leaning down to kiss the side of your neck before letting his chin rest on your shoulder.

ethan was a very clingy boyfriend, always finding someway to have you both touching whenever you both were together—which was pretty much 24/7.

you never complained though, actually developing a love for physical touch after dating ethan.

you went to bend down and open the kitchen sink, ethan letting his arms drop as he waited patiently for you to rise back up.

when you did, grabbing the wipes you would use on the counter, he stood to your side—waiting for you to turn his way.

“when will the cookies be ready?”

“they need to cool for a few minutes, id say give it ten,” you responded, turning to answer him in the process.

he gave you a warm smile before leaning over and kissing your lips—except failing when you quickly turned your head to the side.

he was met with your cheek, causing him to furrow his brows as he watched you wipe down the counter.

thinking you just moved suddenly to clean up the hardening chocolate batter, he went to try again.

instead this time, you stepped back before turning to toss the now used wipes in the trash.

“y/n,” he suddenly spoke, causing you to look at him with a smile—you weren’t sure if he caught on or not.

his hands suddenly cupped your face and pulled you into him, going to give you a kiss but failing once again as you turned your head.

“y/n!”

“ethan!” you parroted back, giving him a teasing smile as he huffed in annoyance.

his hands stayed put on the sides of your face, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he tried a second time.

again, you did the same thing, causing him to finally drop his hands in defeat.

“did i do something?” his voice dropped, your smile faulting at realizing he was actually hurt.

“eth, no, no—you didn’t,” you quickly assured, now your turn to cup his face as you pulled him into a quick kiss, followed by many more on his lips and cheeks.

“it was just a prank, baby.”

he pouted in your hands as you tried kissing it away, becoming successful when he couldn’t help but smile into you.

“i saw it on tiktok,” you continued, pointing at the counter where in the corner was your phone—partially covered by the towel you had placed over it.

ethan moved closer to the device, quickly realizing it was recording and had been this entire time.

before you could get his reaction, he spun around and grabbed your waist, throwing you over his shoulder as you screamed in surprise.

“ethan!” you laughed, hitting his back lightly as you demanded he put you down—although you didn’t sound angry considering how your giggles were betraying you.

he quickly threw you on the couch, his body climbing over yours as he started attacking you with kisses, his hands holding your face impossibly close to his.

before you could pull away for air, you heard the familiar timer go off in the background, ethan pulling away for a second to look across the kitchen.

“cookies are ready,” you said, a wide smile taking over your features as he leaned back down—now inches away from you.

“you’re not going anywhere until im done.”

and let’s just say, that silly tiktok prank you filmed had to be quickly deleted after it took a turn.

instead turning into a more inappropriate film that would probably be more suitable on another video platform.

[murdrdocs]

i can definitely see ethan mocking ur moans when ur overstimulated 😭 it’s just something about his ghostface confidence

oh 100%

sometimes it's just a taunt ("feel that good, bunny? no? yeah? yeah, i know it does, baby"). he'll just say things to make you feel embarrassment, maybe a little humiliation depending on how far gone you are. but there's some other times where he'll literally echo the moan that already sounded so pathetic coming from you, but it's so much worse coming from him.

"you sound so pathetic. i'm barely even touching you! do you hear yourself?" and that's when he'll parrot it for you and if you weren't horny and a little angry, you would understand how hot he sounds like that, but you're wiggling your hips and whimpering to get what you want at this point. he's still going, though. "that's you. that's what you sound like. fucking pathetic!" and he's laughing through it.

"you're lucky you're so sweet. just a sweet, dumb, little thing."

[pad-wubbo]

All AAI2 official English character and case names rated based on whether I think they're better or worse than the fan translation equivalents:

Di-Jun Huang > Di-Jun Wang - It's the same.

Horace Knightley > Bronco Knight - Worse.

Ethan Rooke > Bastian Rook - Worse.

Nicole Swift > Tabby Lloyd - Much better.

Raymond Shields > Eddie Fender - Slightly worse.

Jay Elbird > Rocco Carcerato - Much better.

Simon Keyes > Simeon Saint - Slightly worse.

Sebastian Debeste > Eustace Winner - Sounds worse, fits better.

Justine Courtney > Verity Gavèlle - Much better.

Sirhan Dogen > Bodhidharma Kanis - Much better.

Patricia Roland > Fifi Laguarde - Much better, they've already done "patrol" twice.

Jeff Master > Samson Tangaroa - More unique, less punny. Not sure.

Katherine Hall > Judy Bound - Slightly worse because no food pun.

Isaac Dover > Artie Frost - References his nature as an artist, better.

Pierre Hoquet > Paul Halique - Same as Japanese name, no longer parrot.

Dane Gustavia > Carmelo Gusto - Worse, doesn't sound as awesome.

Delicia Scones > Delicia Scone - It's the same.

Karin Jenson > Florence Niedler - Much better. Florence Nightingale and needles.

Bonnie Young > Hilda Hertz - Better, because alliterative.

Jill Crane > Rosie Ringer - Better, alliterative. Different nursery rhyme.

Blaise Debeste > Excelsius Winner - The absolute Winner among these names. It's so pompous, contains "celsius" and "excel" and just sounds like he went to Oxford.

John Marsh > Shaun Fenn - It's the same. Shaun means John and fen means marsh.

Amy Marsh > Amelie Fenn - It's the same.

Dai-Long Lang > Da-Long Lang - It's the same.

Jack Cameron > Alf Aldown - Better, only because it's a Deid Mann tier awful name rather than a boring realistic name.

Turnabout Target > Turnabout Trigger - Better, sounds more like a presidential assassination attempt.

The Imprisoned Turnabout > The Captive Turnabout - Better, less long-winded.

The Inherited Turnabout > Turnabout Legacy - Better for same reason as above.

The Forgotten Turnabout > A Turnabout Forsaken - Sounds more pretentious, but probably better because less confusion with The Lost Turnabout, where Phoenix forgets.

The Grand Turnabout > Turnabout for the Ages - Worse, I think. It sounds cooler, but doesn't have any chess connotations. They should have called it "The Grandmaster's Turnabout" or "Turnabout Checkmate", I think.

Also, have updated case cards to help you get used to the new names.

EDIT;

Some extra things:

* iFly Airlines in AAI1 has been reverted to its Japanese name of "GoYou". This was probably done because iFly is the name of a real Russian airline with global sanctions against it since 2022.

* As a result, Hugo Ifly is now Ugo Hughes and the tanuki called Mr. Ifly is now Captain Ugo.

* Moozilla is now Taurusaurus, which I think is a better name.

* The Grand Tower is now the Bigg Building, suggesting that Big is not merely its size, but a Mr. Bigg is its proprietor.

* The Zodiac Hall galleries are now referred to as seasonal "Wings" rather than "Palaces". Makes more sense.

* Edgeworth Law Offices is now referred to as Edgeworth and Co. Law Offices, the Co. being Eddie Fender (aka Ray Shields). Again, makes more sense.

* Rocky the bear is now Teddy, since his owner is now already Rocco as a Rocky reference.

* Anubis the hunting dog is now Helmut, a lame pun on "hell mutt".

* Astique the elephant is now Azea, like an "Asian" elephant.

* Ally the alligator is still the same. Regina Berry is not very good at naming animals.

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | iv.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

"Put the phone down. On speaker," Ghostface orders.

The device almost slides right out of your clammy palm when you place it by your sock-covered foot. 

"Now…"

His voice dips, its intimate echo rippling across your skin.

Tension clogs your throat as you await his next command, a mess of shivering limbs on your bed.  

Whatever he asks you to do, you know you’ll hate it, and yourself. 

But there’s no other option when your friends’ lives hang in the balance. 

No choice besides yielding to the killer’s whims, however sick and twisted. 

"I want you to touch yourself, princess."

Puzzled by his request, you blink and parrot his words back to him,"Touch myself?"

He unleashes a dark laugh, a chill dancing on your spine at the sound. 

"Let me explain it in terms even my airheaded little princess can understand," he rasps, blatantly condescending. I want you to shove your fingers in that tight pussy while I watch you do it…and make yourself come." Your eyes widen in shock. "If you don’t come…" Your open thighs tremble as an air of malevolence saturates the air. "Goodbye Mindy and Anika."

The heavy, searing weight of his threat sits in your gut like hot coals. 

Your lip wobbles, a tear escaping the confine of your lids. 

"I’ll do it," you mutter, your quivering hand already inching to your exposed center. 

"Hey, no need to rush," he chuckles. "Take your time, princess. After all…I want to enjoy the show."

He sighs and a zipping sound followed by a muffled rustle reaches you. Relief flows from his inflection as he instructs, "Why don’t you start with rubbing your hand up and down your pussy?"

Sticky wetness coats your fingers as you glide them over your folds. 

Heat flares in your cheeks as Ghostface’s gruff moans rise from the phone. 

Though you can’t know for sure, you suspect from how breathless and hoarse he sounds, he may be touching himself too. 

You grow more embarrassed at the thought. 

"Unbutton your shirt and grab your tit." He lets out a throaty purr as you undo the buttons of your blouse. You palm your breast and rub your thumb over your pebbled peak. A hiss floats from your lips at the sensation, your core clenching. 

"Fuck…you’ve got the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. You know that, princess?" He pauses, seeming to choke on his own breath before chiming, "Bet they’d look even better covered with my cum."

A shuddering breath escapes your mouth. 

"Put one finger inside. Tell me how it feels."

As you keep fondling your breast, you sink one digit inside your wet heat. You gasp as you graze a sensitive, spongy spot that makes your breath falter. 

"Wet. Tight…" Reflexively, as you rock inside your walls, they squeeze around your fingers. Ragged moans climb up your throat. 

Pleasure builds in your belly as it tenses. 

"Put a second one," he urges, his words punctuated by a gravelly whine and the faint, sloppy friction of skin against skin on the other side of the phone. 

Your face ignites. While you’re not the brightest bulb, it’s not hard figuring out what he’s doing while talking to you. 

A wave of sickness threatens to overwhelm you but you quell it.

You add a second digit to the first. Your lids quake, a sharp pain rippling through your core at the burning stretch.

You hardly ever touch yourself there, much less with more than one finger.

"It hurts," you sob. "Please…"

Your whimpers only appear to arouse him more, a moan following your admission. 

"Oh…Fuck." You hear him swallow and exhale rapidly. "Keep going. Don’t you dare stop. Play with your clit at the same time."

Letting go of your chest, your other hand creeps between your thighs. Cheeks aflame, you start rubbing your swollen, sensitive nub in circles.

Your breath stutters. Your hips wiggle as your stomach tightens. 

"Rub it harder." You chew on your bottom lip as the lustful pants leaving your throat swell in volume. Disapproval vibrates in Ghostface’s distorted, gravelly voice. "Don’t keep it in. I want to hear you loud and clear, princess."

Reluctantly, you free your lip, allowing every moan and whimper to spill out unchecked. 

Your fingers pump in and out at a faster pace and the wet squelching of your cunt mingles with the shameful sounds rising from your mouth. 

You massage your clit, growing slicker as your vision gets hazy. 

"Remember what I said. What happens if you don’t come, pretty girl."

This incentivizes you to try even harder. 

You play with your pussy with more fervor than before, teasing that tender spot inside you that has your vision sway. 

You can tell how close you are to your pinnacle, the coils in your belly tight and warm tingles swirling at the apex of your thighs. 

The patterns your fingers trace over your sensitive parts turn hectic and desperate. 

"Tell me you can’t wait for my fat cock to ruin your tight little pussy," Ghostface rumbles through the staccato of his uneven, raspy moans. 

Tears adorning your lashes, you repeat his words between strained lungfuls. "I c-can’t wait for your f…fat cock to ruin my little p-pussy, Mr. Ghostface."

His elated laugh cascades across your flesh. 

"Come for me, princess."

The air dwindles in your lungs as your eyes roll back. The dam shatters at once, your legs quaking as waves of pleasure scatter through your lower body. Your body jolts and falls limply on the sheets, your back arching as your climax hits you. 

"Ah, shit," he says. 

The killer’s long, throaty sigh lands in your ears, the sound of him relieving himself strangely making your bundle of nerves pulse. 

"Good girl," he lauds, mirth and lust radiating from his deep timbre.

His choppy breaths mingle with yours through the phone.

As you lie on your side on the bed, the haze clears and a vast well of shame blooms inside you. 

After a few minutes of silence, he laughs again. 

Satisfaction drips from his tone.

"I’m proud of you for playing my little game," he says. "And now, we have our first souvenir together, in 4K."

Your brows knit as you shakily pick up the phone.

"What do you m-mean?"

He doesn’t reply, instead humming softly, "Goodnight, princess."

The call ends as he hangs up. 

Quivering lips bound shut by stupor, you quickly grab your bear and hold him against your chest. You bury yourself under the covers as quiet tears roll down your face. 

You don’t get much sleep if any that night, tossing and turning when you’re not drenching the sheets with the salty streams pouring from your eyes. 

Despite him never entering the room, terror paralyzes you. 

He might as well have, his sinister presence coiled around you and the power he held over you tattooed into your very bones. 

You bolt awake in the morning, the wild drumming of your heart blaring in your ears.

The first thing you do is rush to collect  your phone. But frustration roars inside you when you realize it died during your fitful sleep. 

Heart in your throat, you scramble in search of your charger. Once you find it in a forgotten corner of your bed, a relieved exhale ripples through your lips. 

Impatient, you groan as you wait for the lightning bolt icon to shift to one percent. The painful sluggishness of it escalates your blood pressure even more. 

You bounce on your bed as your phone takes what seems like eternity and beyond to turn itself on. 

When it finally does, you don't even have to look through your contacts to find Mindy, your best friend appearing in your most recent calls.

You punch the number and chew your nails anxiously. 

Ghastly thoughts lurk about your mind with each lingering, torturous second. 

What if he lied? 

What if he toyed with you for no reason? 

Of course, your roommate picks this opportune moment to knock on the door.

"Hey! Did you lock me out? Open the fucking door!"

Startled, your head snaps up.

"Not now, Vanessa," you yell, herding your focus back to your phone. "Pick up, pick up, pick up…"

You hear your roommate mutter 'bitch' on the other side of the door and kick it one last time before walking away. 

All your calls go to voicemail after a few rings. You lose hope, already picturing the worse. In your sleep-deprived, frazzled brain, the image of your friends’ lifeless forms lying sprawled on the floor is conjured. 

Your gaze fills with tears as you plummet at the end of your bed. 

While the sun’s basking your room in light, your world has never been this dark. 

It’s the pathetic state you remain in as you amble across the hallways later, no cheer in your step as you drag your feet to class. 

Each of your thoughts is asieged by your friends’ fate. Who knows if they even made it through the night, despite your best efforts to comply with Ghostface’s sick demands.

Your dispirited trek comes to a sudden halt as you catch sight of them, strolling to your first class with their arms linked. 

You all but tackle Mindy into a hug after racing down the hallway. 

"Mindy!" you shriek, overwhelmed with emotion at having her in your arms, safe, whole and - most importantly - alive. 

She laughs, both she and Anika casting you a puzzled stare. 

"Wow, is something wrong? Not that I mind random hugs but…"

You punch her in the rib and rear back with a scowl. 

"You didn't answer your phone, dingus! I was worried sick."

Mindy winces in response to your outburst. 

"Ouch. Sorry, mom," she jests, but when she notes the way your eyes fill with tears again, concern invades her features. Her tone softens as she elaborates, "Anika and I were…busy last night, so our phones were on silent."

They share a secret smile, hands twining. Your cheeks warm as understanding dawns over you. 

You approach them and give them a tight hug.

"I…I’m just happy to see you both, that’s all," you mumble between quivering sobs. You take a minute to soak in the fact that they’re okay, that you can feel their beating hearts against your own. 

Your friends are okay. Ghostface kept his promise. 

Despite how humiliated and violated last night made you feel, at least there is one perk…your friends lived through it. 

Anika rubs soothing circles on your back.

"Well, we’re happy to see you too. Always." She tilts her head and studies you. "Wanna grab lunch later? Talk about what’s really going on with you?"

Gulping a pacifying breath, you fall back. You look at both their faces, scrunched in worry. You’re thankful for them…but you can’t talk about last night to anyone. 

In fact, you’d rather toss the whole ordeal into a well of oblivion. You feel dirty enough as it is. Tainted. 

Still, spending time with them is just what you need. 

"I’d love that," you chime, swallowing your tears long enough for them to disappear from view. 

But as soon as they’ve vacated the hallway, the ephemeral mask of cheerfulness you donned before crumbles. 

You shrink into a mess of tears in a dusky corner of the faculty, hiding behind a set of stairs no one ever uses. 

"I have tissues if you want. I have t-three tissues."

"Ethan?" Your mouth parts as Ethan’s staggering presence crowds your vision. He’s crouched in front of you, that same lopsided, bashful smile he had at the party decorating his lips. Sun beams hit his dark curls, highlighting the russet and chestnut hues of his thick mane. 

You slowly blink, noticing his outstretched hand and the tissues in it. 

You accept them gracefully and dab your eyes with one. 

"Hey." He sits next to you under the stairs and leans against the wall. "Wanna talk about it?"

You sniffle and shake your head in response. 

Ethan nods in acknoledgement. You appreciate that he doesn’t push, settling for sitting with you as you cry in your hand.

"Okay," he says when your weeping alleviates. "Then, maybe we can go to a café and study? Since you’ve missed our first session anyway."

Embarrassment surges inside you. Right. You and Ethan agreed to meet at the library two days ago. 

You were caught amidst your guilt spiral regarding Connor’s death at the time. 

You squeeze his arm and bunch your lips apologetically. 

"I’m so sorry, Ethan. It totally slipped my mind."

He waves a dismissive hand in the air. 

"It’s okay. You were dealing with a lot. I get it."

Deflating, you release his bicep and sigh. 

"Still, that’s not okay. You were so nice to offer."

"Don’t worry about it. Besides, I’ve got time now," he informs.

Hugging your knees, you flash him a hollow smile. 

"Thank you. You're a really good friend." You grimace. "I'm sorry Chad and Mindy gave you such a hard time the other day."

He gives a nonchalant shrug. 

"It's okay. Could be anyone, right?" He pauses, scrutinizing your face. "Even me."

This draws the first genuine laugh of the week from you.

Ethan being Ghostface? The mere idea is ludicrous. 

There is an ocean of differences between the monster who coerced you into doing dirty things last night and the sweet boy who handed you tissues today. 

They could never be the same person. That’s silly. 

"I’d find that very hard to believe," you say between watery chuckles. 

The only reply you get from Ethan is a wide, tight-lipped smile as he slants his head sideways, his gaze lighting up as it runs over you. 

~

[ghxstfacesgf]

anchor: ethan landry x reader

Ethan returns from a ghostface attack to find you waiting for him, the only person who can ease his mind. His anchor.

Warnings: ya know violent ghostface things

Note: I wrote this super fast bc I had this idea and couldn’t get it out of my head. I realized after I wrote it that it’s pretty gender-neutral so enjoy! Let know how you like it! <3

A loud crash echos through the small apartment as a ghostface mask smashes into the dresser. An unlit candle falls, coating the wood floors in shards of glass. Ethan Landry tramples over them— breathing erratic, hands shaking, curly brown locks coated in sweat. The events of the night clouded his memory, an unsuccessful attack on the Carpenter sisters. He tried, he really did try, but to no avail. His father would return to the apartment any minute now. The apartment they had purchased as another hideout, other than the shrine. The boy could practically hear his father now: unfocused, sloppy, weak.

Ethan frustratingly ripped the cloak off his body, chucking it on the ground with a groan. With brown eyes prickling with tears, he collapsed on the bed head in hands. A small, comforting voice called to him from the corner of the room,

“Ethan?”

You. Of course it was you. Your voice laced in empathy and the only voice with the power to instantly calm Ethan Landry. He let out a sigh, not even needing words to communicate to you what he needed. You moved in front of him while he remained seated, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. Those eyes closed in relief and your delicate hands cupped his face. His medicine. His anchor.

You brought him closer to you, head nuzzled into your chest. Ethan melted instantly at your touch as you stroked his hair lightly, his eyes still closed. He had no idea when or how you’d gotten here and, frankly, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were here. You were there to save him from his own devilish thoughts. That’s what you’d always done for Ethan— grounded him. It was you that helped him balance along the line of good vs evil. He was a killer, yes, but he didn’t want to be. At least not when he was around you. Your glossy eyes, your perfectly imperfect smile, all of you made him forget his family’s plan. No— his family’s mission. One that he almost considered aborting at the sight of you. Almost.

“What happened, Eth?” His eyes fluttered open at your question. He didn’t know why, but he felt like dumping all of his trauma onto you. The only person in world he felt like would truly listen to him without judgment.

“I failed. Again, y/n, I failed. And my dad and Quinn will be back here any minute to berate me for it. He will go on and on about Richie. “If Richie was here this”, “if Richie was here that,” it’s exhausting never being good enough,” Ethan rambled, his voice cracking. Tears were begging to be released but he blinked them away. He sighed, bringing a hand to your face to brush away a stray lock of hair.

You smiled down at him understandingly. “But how did you fail?”

He scoffed at your comment, “how did I fail? Y/n, I didn’t kill anyone that’s how I failed! That’s all he cares about!” Ethan’s hands, that were wrapped about your waist, tightened in his annoyance.

“No.” You spoke calmly, pulling back from the boy in front of you.

“What?”

“No.” Ethan’s eyebrows burrowed in confusion as he, too, pulled away. You were starting to sound like a parrot at this point. “Ethan, what happened tonight?”

He blinked at you. Why did you have that look on your face? Why weren’t you scared? He had just admitted to you he was ghostface, you’d even seen the mask once he entered the apartment. Why were you still here?

“I already told you. I didn’t kill anyone. I was supposed to, supposed to attack Sam and Tara.”

You closed the gap between the two of you once again. A smile full of pity played on your pink lips. Ethan felt his heartbeat begin to race again and he wasn’t sure why. He tried to think, but he couldn’t. How did you even get here? How did you even know this apartment existed?

“You didn’t fail, baby,” your hands cupped his face again, though they were colder now. “You did kill someone.”

Ethan’s eyes widened, he could practically hear his heart beating out of his chest. His eyes closed, the memories of the night flashing across his mind faster than he could stop them. And boy did he desperately want to stop them.

Sam and Tara’s apartment. Glass breaking. Screaming. Ethan lunged for the sisters, managing to slice Sam’s forearm. She fell to the ground— this was his moment. The moment he would finally make his father proud. The blade raised above the boys head. He brought it down, hard and fast. Although it wasn’t Sam he’d just mutilated. It was you. Those eyes he’d once became entranced in looked up at him one last time. This time filled with hatred and fear. Blood soaked your navy top as he removed the blade from your chest. You’d gotten in the way, how could you be so stupid? The others called your name and Ethan ran. He wanted to stay and help you, he really did. He wanted you to be alright. The sounds of Tara’s screams confirmed his fears.

Ethan’s lips began to form a reply but you’d cut him off, “you didn’t mean to.”

His eyes looked up at you frantic, unable to stop the tears from flowing now. “I don’t understand, you’re here! I can feel you,” the boy pulled your hand from his cheek. Both of his hands cupped yours as he brought it to his lips, kissing your hand softly. “You feel real.”

“You know I’m not, Ethan. You know what you did, you know you didn’t mean to. This isn’t what you want, you’re not a killer.” Your words seemed to pierce him like a blade. Like the blade he’d shoved into your chest just hours ago. He cried now, cried harder than he ever had. At some point his hands released yours and those curly locks fell wet against his forehead.

The door to the apartment swung open harshly. Ethan’s attention was torn away from you. It was Detective Bailey.

“There he is! My boy,” Bailey smiled wildly, arms widened for a hug. “I didn’t think you had it in you, to kill y/n.”

At the sound of your name Ethan’s head turned back to where you were standing. Your figure gone now, only a window overlooking the city replaced it. He felt like he had been the one murdered.

“I’m proud of you, son.” Those words, the only words Ethan had wanted to hear, snapped him away from his sorrow. Eyes glistened up at his father. They embraced.

You had been Ethan’s anchor, the one thing keeping him somewhat sane. But, you were gone now. It had to happen, it did. Ethan knew that now. Without you, he could finally live up to his fathers expectations.

He could become a true psychopath.

[gamequoteshowdown]

Quote 1: “I would like to cross-examine the witness’s pet parrot!” - Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney

Quote 2: "'Shaun! Shaun! Shaun!' (Ad infinitum)" - Ethan Mars, Heavy Rain

Propaganda

Quote 1: Such an iconic Phoenix moment. It seems like all hope is lost and then by the most absurd idea or the smallest little detail he ends up turning the whole case around. Also it’s a pretty funny quote

Quote 2: It may *technically* be a glitch, but my god isn't it one of the most iconic video game "quotes"

[putaposyinyourhair]

And they were roommates…

part 1 | part 2

• back by popular demand

• you get some chadthan and you get some chadthan everybody gets some chadthan!

• y’all wanted more… well this is what it look like

“Movie night?” Ethan repeats, watching Anika as the beta digs out multiple pillows from the giant sparkly pink tote bag she’s brought along with her.

He’s not sure how she’d managed to get so many to fit in there and as impressive a feat it is, frankly, he’s afraid to ask.

“Movie night,” Mindy parrots from where she’s lounging atop Ethan’s bed— because she steadfastly refuses to go anywhere near her brother’s bed because, and Ethan quotes, she doesn’t, ‘know what kind of bodily fluids are all over that thing.’

She holds out both hands and moves her fingers back and forth in a spirit-fingers kind of way as she echoes the words.

It’s disconcerting.

Mindy Meeks-Martin is a rollercoaster. Ethan is terrified of rollercoasters.

So, his slight fear of her checks out.

“And this is… a weekly occurrence?” he inquires, brows furrowed as he continues to watch Anika.

She’s kneeling atop the seemingly endless layers of blankets and bedsheets she and Chad have stretched out onto the floor between the beds, meticulously organizing the countless pillows against the dresser that he and Chad share— the one they’ve split evenly down the middle so each of them gets four drawers.

Chad’s desk chair is rolled out in front of the makeshift futon on the floor and his laptop is perched atop the seat, lid open and ready to go— the screen proudly displaying a slideshow of pictures of the Meeks-Martin family and friends.

It’s kind of endearing.

Ethan refuses to acknowledge the way it makes his chest ache a bit. He doesn’t have a single family photo on his phone. Only a few pictures he’s taken with Quinn over the years. And a single solitary snapshot of his mother from when he was a kid, before she’d passed.

“Every Friday!” Chad calls from where he’s got his head shoved in the closet— successfully pulling Ethan out of an inevitable dark swirl of thoughts. “We rotate. We had it at Tara’s last week but you missed it cause you were trying that study group thing. Next week it’ll be at Mindy and Anika’s and this week we get the pleasure of hosting, babe.”

Ethan feels his cheeks flush horribly, despite the fact that he tries his damned hardest to ignore the way his heart kind of trips over a beat in response to the flippant way Chad calls him babe. The alpha’s continued and incessant usage of pet names has been steadily increasing over the past two and a half weeks that they’ve known each other.

“You ditched us for study group last week?” Mindy inquires, face twisted in clear disgust. “Nerd.”

Ethan’s still reeling over babe so he can’t even bring himself to remind her she’s a horror movie fanatic and that, in and of itself, also makes her a nerd.

“Hey!”

Ethan’s gaze slides over to where Chad has pulled his head out of the closet.

“He’s the cutest nerd in all of Hortense Tower,” Chad declares with a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Put some respect on his highness’ name.”

Ethan wishes he had a shell he could retreat into and hide.

Princess definitely seems to be the alpha’s favorite pet name for him— thanks to Quinn and her downright mortifying stories— and he uses, ‘his highness’ to refer to Ethan when talking to others more often than not. It’s embarrassing as hell. But Ethan doesn’t… dislike it.

Babe is a close runner-up, followed by the more pretentious-sounding ones; Baby, Darling, Sweetheart, etc.

Ethan’s sure at some point he’ll have to draw the line. Probably somewhere around Honey or Pookie.

He shivers at the thought.

“Debatable,” Mindy decides in monotone, giving Ethan one of those sweeping once-over’s before she turns her attention back to Anika.

Chad’s lips purse in an almost disappointed pout but Ethan smiles softly at his roommate when their gazes meet and Chad grins before he returns to whatever he’s attempting to do in the closet.

Anika is kneeling beside Ethan’s bed, stealing his pillows to add to the collection already on the makeshift futon on the floor. Mindy’s still sprawled on his bed though and is holding a few pillows hostage and Ethan watches as the alpha flops around, groaning dramatically and refusing to move when Anika reaches for them. She only relents when the beta huffs and sweetly asks for them with a gentle smile.

Ethan is still trying to figure out if they’re dating or not.

If they aren’t, they absolutely should be. Sometimes, when Anika goes on these long-winded, passionate rants, Mindy stares at her like she hung the moon and all the stars in the sky.

It’s downright adorable.

But Ethan’s not going to say anything. Despite the fact that he’s Chad’s roommate and Chad seems to like him well enough, Ethan feels like he’s on the outside looking in most of the time. Chad, Mindy and Tara had grown up together. And Mindy and Anika had met at summer camp years ago.

He’s kind of the outsider in this equation.

There’s a sharp knock at the door and Chad pulls his head back out of the closet for a moment to shout an enthusiastic, “Come in!”

The door is thrown open with such force that Ethan physically winces when it slams into the wall with a loud bang.

“The party has arrived, bitches,” Tara drawls, her fingers clutching a downright impressive amount of chips and snacks. She sweeps into the room, toeing off her shoes, and depositing all of the snacks onto the futon on the floor before she looks up at Ethan and waves.

Ethan lifts a few fingers in response to what he naively assumes is her greeting him, but when he glances over at the open door the other omega’s left in her wake, he stills and his hand drops to his side.

Oh, he realizes, that must be his cue.

He sniffs and resolutely does not frown.

“Okay, so— um,” Ethan mumbles, reaching up to run a hand at the back of his neck anxiously. “What time should I come back?”

All at once, four pairs of eyes turn to him.

Even Chad's, who finally seems to find whatever it is he’s looking for in the closet— it turns out to be an old, ratty red-and-green plaid blanket that the alpha tosses over at his sister, who catches it one-handed, even while she arches a sharp brow up at Ethan.

“Back where?” Tara questions, her nose scrunching and her brows furrowing. “What are we talking about?”

Chad’s eyes are narrowed at Ethan and there’s a distinctly grim frown on his face.

Ethan squirms, shifting from one side to the other as he avoids the alpha’s gaze.

“To the room?” he squeaks out, motioning in the general direction of his side of the room. “I mean, I can like… kill a few hours in the library or something but, um, I— I don’t really have anywhere else to like… sleep and stuff.”

Anika drops the pillow she’s holding, her mouth gaping as she stares at him like he’s suddenly grown another head or something.

A muffled sound comes from where Chad’s standing by the closet, something like a wounded noise.

Ethan doesn’t look.

And he gets the feeling he’s said something wrong.

When do you ever say the right thing, a mean little voice that sounds suspiciously like his father’s hisses from the recesses of his mind.

He takes a step back, lifting both hands to wave in front of him frantically.

“I— I mean, sorry, never mind,” he croaks, his face positively flaming once more in shame. “It’s fine, I can— I can figure something out.”

He turns abruptly, and almost trips over Tara’s discarded shoes in his haste to grab his backpack and flee.

Maybe Jason from his film class will let him stay the night, Ethan thinks as he shoulders one of his backpack’s straps and groans internally. If he does that, he knows he’ll have to deal with an infuriating barrage of subtle anti-omega bullshit Jason’s roommate, Greg, is sure to throw his way.

It’s ridiculous that in this day and age there are still people who think omegas are less-than for some reason.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.”

Ethan’s head jerks back hastily as Chad rushes forward and steps into his path, effectively blocking him from their open dorm door.

“Slow your roll there, sweetheart,” Chad reasons, regarding Ethan with what looks to be a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Ethan grips his backpack’s strap tightly and does not think about the fact that even though Chad’s eyes look almost black from a distance, up close they’re very much a deep chocolate brown color that Ethan definitely doesn’t think is the most gorgeous he’s ever seen.

“Yeah, it’s your turn to pick the movie,” Tara calls out, and despite the fact that she’s clearly speaking directly to Ethan, he’s unable to pull his gaze away from Chad’s to look at her. “Thank fuck because I don’t think I could survive another one of Chad’s picks.”

“Whoa, hey,” Mindy pipes up, shooting up from her horizontal position on Ethan’s bed. “First of all, how dare you? Secondly, Empire Records is God tier.”

Mindy is kind of fiercely protective of her brother. It’s unexpected but admirable as all hell. Ethan highly respects her for it.

Quinn is the same way with him. Although, she’s probably the only person in the world who even cares about him at all so it’s probably not saying much.

“God tier?” Tara guffaws. “You and Chad literally just spent the whole night drooling over Liv Tyler.”

“So did Anika!” Mindy squawks, pointing up at said beta accusingly.

Ethan kind of half tunes them out— as they continue to bicker back and forth for a moment, until Anika steps in, in an attempt to mediate— and gulps quietly under Chad’s intense stare, the alpha refusing to look away from him.

“My turn?” Ethan queries uncertainly, licking at his lips nervously and staunchly disregarding the way the alpha’s gaze flickers down for a second. “Are— you want me to stay?”

Chad’s lips stretch out into this lazy reassuring smile, a few of his top teeth digging into his bottom lip as he reaches back with a foot and pushes at the door.

It closes with a soft click.

“Your turn,” Chad promises, one hand lifting to slide the strap of Ethan’s bag off of his shoulder.

Ethan lets him do it and relinquishes his backpack, which Chad immediately tosses into the corner.

Then, Ethan’s eyes widen and his face flushes furiously as Chad wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him into his side, ducking his head just the slightest bit so his lips graze against the shell of Ethan’s ear.

“Stay with me, princess.”

[delicatebluebirdruins]

Resident Evil 7 - Full Map Exploration EXPERIMENT Part 4 (Ethan's Face E...

Warning minor jumpscare at the start so skip to 05:12

So I said in the past that serum has a shelf life and loses it’s potency as a cure (aka just me parrotting the file)

But what I never considered is how Zoe actually made it. I wonder how well the bloody thing worked when put into a FUCKING SMOOTHIE/ COFFEE MACHINE? and how did that even come up as an option? did at somepoint in that time before Mia was put in jail, Zoe was worried about how they were going to make the serum and Mia consoled her with they just need something simple?

[neillesimstories]

Family #9 Clary

[previous update of the family] Lana and Ethan are newly married couple. His previous wife Raspberry, who is the mother of their two daughters Eve and Rose, cheated on him with her girl friend. Firstly they wanted to fight for their marriage but everything went too far and eventually they have divorced. She moved out to Bridgeport, leaving children with Ethan. Lana was their maid for the long time, but after the divorce, she and Ethan got really close. Now they're happily married, and no one's bothered by that, except Eve. She hates Lana and doesn't accept her as a mother. Because of that, moods in their home are vary. But Ethan and Lana are trying their best. Apart from that, they are pets lover so they have a crazy cat Bingo and aviary with two parrots. Traits Ethan: good, virtuoso, friendly, family-oriented, green thumb Lana: absent-minded, neat, perfectionist, hopeless romantic, nrturing Eve: over-emotional, neat, ambitious Rose: absent-minded, loves the outdoors, lucky

Careers Ethan: pop icon (music level 9) Lana: cash register specialist (nookstore clerk level 1)

Lifetime wishes Ethan: rock star [not fulfilled yet] Lana: living in the lap of luxury [not fulfilled yet]

[thebleedingeffect]

Thinking about just how fucking tragic the Frye twins are and how desperately they need to communicate because it's obvious how much they love each other but there's so much driving them apart.

Just like, the very concept of twins being born into a family where their destiny has already been chosen for them. There's no arguing, there's no communication, there's no compromise, no, they're going to be raised as assassin's and that's final. Two children who are twins in every way, but with a father who practically drills in the ideals of the creed and how to be a proper assassin. Hearing the same lectures every single day for years, endlessly trying to reach this perfect ideal that your father expects you to be because you're not allowed to be anything else. A father who endlessly judges and tests you, refusing to raise you as their own child and instead just an assassin in the making.

What does that do to a kid? Well, we see it perfectly with Evie and Jacob. Evie is the golden child, the perfectionist, the child who will do anything and everything it takes to win her father's love and approval. Her father's recognition is what comforted her as a child, but it was only at Jacob's expense that she became the most beloved child. She endlessly chases after her father's legacy after his death and she parrots the same criticisms that their father said to Jacob. That he is reckless and doesn't care at all about consequences.

That he doesn't care about others, that he is a poor excuse of an assassin.

Evie internalizes everything that their father ever told her because in her eyes- Ethan Frye was someone who was to be never doubted, never questioned. His memory is to be forever untarnished because if she dares to question his memory, their childhood, she'll realize that her father was never the perfect man or assassin. It'll bring into question everything that she is and everything that she believes in, the very tenets that were drilled into her at such a young age and the ones she accepted because she had no other choice. Evie is terrified of failure and she's terrified of being wrong, of having the wrong judgment, of not knowing everything and not being the one in the right. Evie is the golden child left without their parents' guidance who ends up parroting the same hurtful things, unaware that she's both hurting herself and her brother.

And Jacob, oh Jacob... here's the thing, I truly believe that Jacob had once tried to be what Evie was so effortlessly becoming. The studious, well-behaved daughter, the daughter who is perfect in every way and is the star in their fathers eye. Evie, who is endlessly compared to him, the sister who is perfect without ever questioning anything or even give the slightest hint of wanting- no, demanding more. Jacob, who's so tired of having his life decided for him, for having a father who despises having him as a son and constantly puts him down. A father who never saw him as a son, because he was an assassin before all else, and even if the creed was good and the tenets were true- it didn't matter because it was all force fed into him with none of the understanding or compassion directed to him.

Jacob is the problem child, a chaotic blight to the brotherhood itself. Uncontrollable, reckless, and so hungry for recognition and to make his own path because he was never allowed to in the shadow of the brotherhood. He's hungry, starving even, for someone to understand and to stay by his side and to not highlight his every little flaw. Jacob is made up of sharp edges that are endlessly sharpened with having his fathers legacy constantly thrown back at his face while being treated as little more than a burden. A title that he's been carrying for almost his entire life and is now being carried by his sister now that their father is no longer there to torment him instead. Jacob returns the disappointment in Evie's eyes with barbed words of his own because he can't fucking admit his own weakness and wants! The fact that he wants his sister and not just his fathers shadow! But he can't tell Evie that so he just returns everything that she gives him because he can't be honest with himself, so how can he be honest with her?

They're just... so tragic because they desperately need to talk to each other as actual siblings and not be stuck in their fathers shadow. They deserve so much better than to be at each other's throats for their own misled beliefs about the other as well as always expecting the worst from each other. They need to fucking!!! Talk!!!!! But will we get that??? PROBABLY FUCKING NOT.

[callmearcturus]

1) i am interest, what does the "brachtian lens" mean in your MI post? 2) i did google pathologic and seems interesting but i don't know if its for me, would you recommend it? (you have good taste)

Brechtian, a Brechtian lens.

Okay so everyone brace yourself for the most unhinged take you've ever heard. I'm gonna caveat this up front by pointing out that I don't know if I actually myself ascribe to this read, it's just the kind of thing that happens when you are at work listening to the Codex Entry performance of Pathologic: The Marble Nest and the adderall hits just right.

I'm an undereducated pleb so I'm not going to go into the full history of Brecht, hit up any of your local pretentious media nerds for that. But one of the things associated with Brecht is the Alienation Effect. One of his primary concerns as a playwright was the idea that audiences were becoming complacent and were watching plays and observing art without internalizing everything. He had this idea that as the artifice of theatre became more and more immersive, as the Theatre of the Real so to speak became more seamless, audiences weren't actually connecting to what they were seeing. It's hard to impart wisdom and propose hard questions when the audience is just out here vibin', basically.

So Brecht's whole thing was to make the artificiality of the theatre as conspicuous and obvious as possible. There were a few tactics for this, including fun stuff like spoiling the plot of the story at the very start, casting very incongruous actors in specific roles, making the violence over the top to the point of being ridiculous, etc.

The point of these tactics was to jolt the audience out of their Vibe, to remind them they were watching a play, a performance. And in doing so, in theory, it would get the audience to pay more attention to the content of the play. When you are not passively absorbing the story, you will in theory give more consideration to what you are observing and actually THINK about what is being presented to you. Audiences tend to feel empathetic to characters in media, and you wanna jolt them out of that comfy zone.

Okay so how the fuck can I apply this lens to Mission Impossible? Besides being the most pretentious bitch on your dashboard obvsly.

One common interpretation of MI is that the movies are documentaries of their own productions. I have heard this idea parroted many times by people I broadly respect. Now... I don't personally ascribe to that take, but lets hypothesize for a moment that it's true, that there is a purposeful artificiality to MI. One of the things people point to with this theory is the fact that the first footage of MI: Fallout ever shared wasn't a trailer or teaser or anything.

It was footage of TC breaking his ankle doing that rooftop jump. It was a behind the scenes moment of ultra-reality that affected production. Because the hype cycle around MI is linked inextricably to "oh man what bullshit is TC gonna pull in THIS one" as a conscious marketing tactic.

It's accurate to say that yes, some people just go to see MI for the stunts. And the marketing knows it and promos it. There is an effort to focus on the physical, practical feats of the movie.

What I find interesting is that McQ and TC both share an ethos, that the only reason audiences give a shit about the stunts is because they are a vehicle of characterization. There is more overt writing and acting in MI than it gets credit for. It's like the stunts are a Loss Leader of the movie, yanno? Here is the big spectacle to get people to show up, and once people are in the theatre, you can talk to them.

So, what I'm positing is that if you believe that there is a heightened artificiality to MI, if you think its just a sequence of bombastic set pieces, if you think Ethan Hunt is just TC's alter ego, blah blah blah (again, not my belief) then it should in theory become difficult to sink into passivity with these movies.

If all that is correct, then there is a forced artificiality to MI that mimicks the Brechtian-style, leading to the Alienation Effect. Therefore, the text of the movies, what they are saying about, for random instance, the encroaching threat of uncontrolled AI in a digital world, that message should become more stark and harder for audiences to glaze their eyes over and miss.

And ALL OF THAT is the kind of bullshit you too can cogitate on if you inflict Pathologic on yourself and let it rewire your fucking brain! If you want a primer of what the fuck Pathologic is, look up hbomberguy's legendary Pathologic video, then come hit me up for further links.

[murdrdocs]

hear me out.. reader waking up in the middle of the night and can't go back to sleep, so ethan takes it upon himself eat the reader out or whatever to get them back to sleep 🫡

i'm hearing all right

you know that exam season is stressful. you've been through it for years now, if your experience in high school is anything to go by plus the stressful period you had during midterms just a few months ago. you knew that exam season is stressful.

but the stress still shocks you. it keeps you away from food and friends and sleep.

which is why ethan came over with food and your sleep show. and you should be asleep, you were asleep, up until a few minutes ago when your dream ended and your bladder filled to the brim and now that you're empty again and you're comfortable in bed, you wait for sleep to find you.

but it doesn't.

it's silent in the room, netflix having shut off by now and only playing images of shows it wants you to watch, and you should be hearing the gentle sound of ethans snoring, but you don't.

so you turn over to face him and he blinks lazily at you, a slow smile spreading to his chapped lips.

"hey," he says, voice low and raspy.

"hi." your voice sounds similar.

"you can't go back to sleep, can you?" he knows you so well, it's almost embarrassing.

"yeah."

"yeah."

you shuffle and turn around, obviously reaching for your laptop which was on the floor beside the bed. before your fingertips can graze the case, ethan's pulling you back into bed.

you yelp, then laugh a little. "i was only gonna study for like 20 minutes. just until i was tired again."

he shakes his head. "i know you well enough to know that 20 turns to 40 which turns into until your exam."

true.

you sigh and lay back down, on your back this time, turning your head to look at him. "so what do you suggest will help me sleep?"

you were expecting an answer of another episode, or melatonin gummies, or even a glass of warm milk. what you didn't expect, but you should've truth be told, was ethan to situate himself between your legs on his haunches, and begin to tug at your sleep shorts with a sly smirk.

"i think i read somewhere that head has the same effects as melatonin gummies if it's given between the hours of ..." he trailed off to look at your clock and you did too. 2:03 AM. "2 and 3 AM."

your laugh is joyous and infectious, it has ethan's eyes crinkling and his chest shaking as he parrots the sound.

"yeah, okay. worth a shot." you lift your hips to help him shimmy your one layer off, then spread your legs, bent at the knee, to welcome him in.

his warm breath against your cunt has an initial shiver running up your spine, and the first lick of his warm tongue makes you flinch, but his hands hold you still, his fingers digging into the plush fat of your thighs, and you're so comfortable where you are.

with each lick and suck from ethan, the bed becomes comfier, you begin to sink into the mattress more, your eyelids get heavier and your muscles do too.

by the time he'd added a finger, curling it within your fluttering walls, you're already reaching your peak, and sleep is so close that you can almost feel it.

"'s close, e," you tell him, pushing your hips further into his face. "jus a little more." your hand finds his hair and you grip, pushing him further in. when ethan moans, delivering a few more licks to your cunt, you cum, hard and satisfactory.

your come down is mixed with you falling asleep, and you have just enough energy to register ethan kissing the inside of your left thigh and sliding up to pull you to his chest before you're mumbling a hard-to-hear "thank you" and falling asleep, not to wake again until your alarm hours from now.

[figurelifeflirt]

Chicago Med Season 1 episode 16 Disorder

Ethan Choi. You did absolutely spectacular today. Did you keep the parrot? Does it have a name?

Desmond, aren't you pretty. Can we see more?!

I like crossword puzzles. But Doctor Charles would have to be patient with me because I am terrible at them.

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

So im reteaching chicago med and in the end of s1, beginning of s2 Dr. Choi (who is a navy vet, struggling with ptsd) gets this parrot (who is also struggling with ptsd). And anyway, the psychiatrist who works at the same hospital as him comes over for a beer and is like:"y'know va is pairing vets with birds that have similar issues." for therapy reasons, I guess? And so Ethan tries to teach it new phrases and how to fly and ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS THE CLONES POST WAR FUCKING TALKING TO BIRDS FOR THERAPY

[mccbrackets]