#feral Ethan hunt

[missunderstood-with-ideas]

The muzzle that Ethan is put in in MI3 does something to me 🫠🫠

but also it cracks me up cuz like 😂😂wtf *why*

what did he do in the car back to IMF base that he got muzzled like a dog and then strapped to a table???

Like my guys. Y’all tased the fuck out of him just 10ish minutes ago. (no matter how high of a pain tolerance you have, getting hit THREE TIMES with THREE different tasers will take you out for a while. Sure he brushes off the first 2 but the last one takes him out.) he’s still shaking from the electrical current as you are handcuffing him.

I’m sooooo curious about what Ethan did to go from getting handcuffed like a normal arrest to fucking strapped down to a table and muzzled.

Can you imagine being the agent who had to undo Ethan’s cuffs and restrain him to a table and put that muzzle on him??? That’s hazard pay right there.

Thoughts?? Opinions???

[nade2308]

"Get that son of a bitch."

@thethistlegirl @malewifebillcage

[hollybell51]

If I don't have you

Navigation

Ethan Hunt x AFAB!Reader

Mission Impossible (around MI3)

Word count: 6.6K

Summary: your mind won't let go of a close call, or all the things that remain unsaid between you and Ethan.

Content: gratuitous smut, angst, light blood/wounds (canon typical), swearing, angst with a happy ending, some mildly dubious moments (ie., sneaking into people's beds), but there's explicit consent so dw about that. Friends to lovers, first kisses (like between people), oral (f receiving), handjobs, making out, missionary, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk, sappy love confessions (I'm a sap myself, give me a break). I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.

Notes: hey guys I'm back with another terrible title and porn nobody asked for! I've recently been consumed by Mission Impossible and was devastated by the lack of Ethan Hunt content, and I may or may not be starting down the Tom Cruise rabbit hole, so I did the natural thing and wrote some good old smut. This man makes me absolutely feral in every film (sixty fucking one and he's still got it! What the fuck!) but the long hair really gets me (you all know this already) so I chose to go with somewhere around the MI3 mark. I'm also somehow convinced that he just gets hotter with each film but that's another issue.

Mandatory disclaimer, I don't really care what Tom Cruise does in his own free time with his money and energy but I personally don't fuck with scientology, so yeah. Anyways, enjoy!

The door to the hotel room banged shut behind you, loud and sudden in the cool stillness of the evening. Your face felt hot, and not just because of the heat outside or the fact that you’d just effectively undertaken a high-speed parkour course, blood rushing in your ears, heart pounding. 

“What the hell, Ethan?” you hissed as you spun to face him, jerking your arm out of his grip. 

He ignored you, stepping closer in the narrow entryway. “Are you hurt?” 

Were you hurt? God, it never failed to amaze you just how little regard this man had for his own safety. First he’d quite literally jumped off the roof of a building (albeit a low building, and he’d slid down the tented roof of one of the market stalls first), then raced head-first into what had nearly ended up an all-out fire fight, despite you and Luther both yelling across the comms at him to stop, go around and cut them off! Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t listened. 

“That was fucking insane!” you burst. 

“Are you ok?” 

You were being pursued, first at a walk and then a run. Ethan had seen, you’d told him and Luther both over the comms, and had been receiving directions from the latter. But there were three men chasing you – working for the man you were stalking, most likely, although you weren’t sure – and the streets were unfamiliar, the heat of the evening oppressive, the crush of bodies at the market stifling and the air dusty and thick. You knew, even as your feet pounded on the uneven ground, that you were not going to outlast these men – locals, larger and more numerous than you. 

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?” 

Ethan had barrelled into you from the side just as the first gunshot had gone off, rolling with a grunt and a curse over some poor stallholder’s display and behind a wall of crates. The rush of relief his presence unfailingly conjured was short-lived as he dragged you to your feet, a quick “alright?” and that goddamn movie-star grin before he was pushing you out from behind the makeshift shelter and back into the crowd. You hadn’t even noticed the substantial tear in his shirt or the rough hatching of a graze high on his cheek until you’d been leaning against a wall, panting and a little shaky, but alive and free of your pursuers. 

You’d almost ripped him a (another) new one then and there, but then he’d shaken his head at you and held up his hand, panting, “let’s just get back,” before you could even open your mouth. So you’d held your tongue. Until you’d gotten back. 

Now, both his hands were on your shoulders, firm and warm, holding you still. “(Y/N),” he was saying, his eyes searching your face. “Are you hurt?” 

“No,” you sighed after a moment, half tempted to jerk out of his grasp again. You didn’t. “I’m fine. Are you?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, his hands sliding down to grip your arms. The graze wasn’t too bad up close, but as your eyes flicked to the cut on his arm, your anger reared its head again. God, if that had been twenty centimetres to the right…

“No you’re fuckin not,” you said, breathing deeply. It was late, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone more than you already had. “Let me see that.” 

His hands dropped from you altogether, and he stepped back. “It’s fine, (Y/N), just a graze.” 

“A bullet graze!” 

“It’s fine.” 

You shook your head, closing what little distance had opened up between you to point your finger into his chest. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.” 

“No promises,” he shrugged.

Jesus fucking Christ! You had half a mind to grab his gun off him and finish the job right there, see how fine he’d be with his brains blown onto the wall behind him. Even then he’d brush it off as a bruise, maybe a light concussion. You swallowed. “Ethan, you could have been killed !” 

“But I wasn’t. All that matters is that you’re alright.” He’d taken your hand, folding your accusing finger back towards your palm gently – so gently it made your heart ache – and enclosing your fist in his much larger one. Your stupid, traitorous stomach did a flip to rival his acrobatics. 

“No,” you gritted, “that’s not all that matters! You fucking–” matter. You matter to me. You pressed your lips firmly together, the words boiling in the back of your throat, spiralling into a hard, painful lump. You matter, Ethan, more than any fucking mission. None of it would mean shit if you didn’t make it, if I didn’t have you. You matter and I fucking love you, you idiot!

He was looking at you oddly, you realised, the silence hanging between you so thickly you’d need a damn chainsaw to cut it. His hand still cradled yours, but as you watched, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the ready-for-anything gleam you were so painfully familiar with faded from his eyes. 

You both turned as someone – Luther – cleared his throat, a sharp silhouette against the glow of twilight through the window behind him. 

“Are you alright?” your friend asked, looking between the two of you. 

“Yeah,” you huffed, pulling back and running both your now-free hands through your hair. 

“Ethan?” 

“Yeah.” 

Another silence, though less tense. 

“Taking a shower,” you muttered, feeling your own body slouch as the adrenaline drained from you. You were sweaty, hot, dusty, shaky and too strung out for any more of this shit. Nobody stopped you as you trudged past first Ethan, then Luther, down the narrow hallway and into the small hotel bathroom. You thought you could hear Luther’s rumbling voice over the stream of shower water, Ethan’s higher-pitched response, but couldn’t make out any words. Maybe that was for the better.

In your dream, Ethan wasn’t fine. In your dream, he hadn’t moved as fast and wasn’t stumbling to his feet, pulling you with him. In your dream, he went down and stayed down, breath coming fast and short, and instead of a rip in his sleeve there was a dark stain spreading over his chest. 

“Ethan?” you said, watching yourself scramble across the rough dirt of the street to his side, your hands flitting uselessly over his torso. 

He cursed, taking your hand as he had so many times before, big and warm and more comforting than it had any right to be. “You alright?” he asked, teeth gritted. 

“Yeah, fine. Fuck, Ethan hold on–” 

“No, (Y/N)–” 

“Hold on , dammit!” It was amazing how viscerally you could feel the pain, sharp and hot like a gunshot wound of your own. You fumbled at your pockets with one hand, pressing down on his chest with the other, but your phone was nowhere to be found. When you shouted for an ambulance or help or anything at all, nobody was listening. The market bustled on around you, the people no more real than shadows on a wall. 

Ethan was saying your name again, his blood hot and wet against your palm. Too much, too much too fast. 

“All that matters is that you’re alright,” he was telling you, and half your mind was seeing him as he had been in the hallway – serious, sweaty, patch of pink skin over his cheekbone hatched with where the dirt had caught and cut it as he’d rolled. 

In your dream, you told the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, words spilling from you in a sick waterfall. “You matter, Ethan. You matter to me, I love you, do you know how much you matter to me?” 

You’d seen people die before. It was part and parcel of your job, so you knew what it looked like. This was no different. Ethan’s eyes were hazy, unfocussed, and he was too pale. There was a light sheen of sweat beading his face and neck. His chest was soaked with his blood and your hands were slick with it. His fingers were loosening around your own. 

“Ethan?” you asked, your own grip slackening as his head lolled. “Ethan, come on, just hold on–” 

No one’s coming. 

“Hold on, Ethan. Don’t go. Don’t go, I can’t do this without you.” 

He wasn’t looking at you anymore. 

“Please, just– listen to me. You don’t know. You have no idea how much you matter to me, how much I need you. Ethan, come on, I love you!” 

In your dream, Ethan was dead and you woke shivering despite the warmth of the room. You lay stock-still, counting to ten again and again until your breathing finally slowed and your heart rate returned to normal. You wriggled down under the sheet you’d draped over yourself, curling inwards and wishing for something more substantial than the loose t-shirt – once Ethan’s – and your underwear. 

You’d watched Ethan die a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Nobody would ever torture it out of you, but these – when he didn’t know, when it was too late before you told him – were the worst. It left you with a sick feeling in your gut, a hollow emptiness in your chest where your heart and lungs should have been, and limbs so heavy you were always surprised you managed to get up the next morning. And, of course, the inevitable wave of loathing at how fucking pathetic you were dreaming about telling your partner – friend , probably your best friend, because you were long past being coworkers – that you loved him. 

You sighed, turning over. It was close to the full moon, the open window casting a rectangle of silver over the lump that was your legs, the light breeze moving the curtains gently. You could get up and close it. You should. 

You’d been too pissed off and tired after your shower to do much more than grunt thanks to Luther when he handed you a cold doner kebab, eat it, then fall onto your bed and close your eyes. Usually, you’d have forced Ethan to take a shower too, waited until he emerged in fresh clothes and smelling like cheap soap, hair damp and curling around his ears, and patted the spot on the couch or bed or floor beside you. He’d always roll his eyes but sit anyway, and he’d stay sitting as you cleaned and dressed – sometimes stitched – whatever injuries he’d acquired with only minimal complaining. He’d give you the same treatment afterwards. 

You hadn’t done any of that before, and now you missed the little ritual. You’d been mentally cataloguing the first aid kit for antiseptic cream, bandages, wound pads, suture needles and sterile thread as soon as it had even clocked in your mind that he had more than just the graze to his cheek, the uncomfortable weight of your dream growing heavier with the realisation that you’d left it all to him. And Luther, you supposed. 

It was such a little thing, but in the moment it seemed to loom over you, blocking out the moon’s rectangle. 

You sighed again, your feet hitting the floor before you’d even fully realised that you were getting up. 2.28 AM glowed sickly green from the digital clock on the nightstand. Maybe if you hadn’t had that specific dream, you thought, you would have given this more consideration. Turned over and closed your eyes, decided to wait until morning proper, dismissed your guilt and concern as remnants of a stressful evening. But you had had that dream, and now that you’d eased the door open and were slipping down the hallway towards the room Ethan occupied, there was no way you could have turned back. 

His door was ajar, and didn’t squeal or protest when you eased it open. The set-up, like most hotel bedrooms, was exactly the same as your own. Cupboard on one wall (open, with a duffle bag resting half in and half out of it), dresser next to the door (two guns and a few spare magazines next to them), and a double bed by the window. The orientation of the room meant that the moonlight fell on the floor instead of the bed, but you could still clearly make out Ethan’s prone form, sheet wrinkled and twisted under him, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, a few strands of hair over his face fluttering with each breath. 

You’d seen him asleep before, of course you had. There hadn’t always been hotel rooms with two bedrooms and a pull-out couch to rotate through, nice as that was. There hadn’t even always been separate beds or mattresses – or any at all. Sometimes you ended up side by side in a queen that was supposed to be two singles, slumped on top of him in the back of a van or on a rooftop, curled against his back in a sleeping bag that was only really meant for one person. You didn’t mind, not really, but seeing him like that – totally relaxed, peaceful – tugged at something deep inside you. 

You hesitated, one hand on the doorframe, shivering once more in the breeze from his open window. The curtains billowed inwards, floated suspended for a moment, then receded back to brush at the thick sill. The bed rustled as Ethan turned over, and you froze. He’d said something, you thought he’d said something that sounded like your name. Then he did it again, and you were sure. 

“(Y/N).” 

You crossed the room silently, kneeling then lying smoothly on the bed and against his back like you were made to fit there. He hummed softly as your arm slid over his ribs, your fingers splayed over his heart. Still beating, strong and even and alive. 

He sighed, shifting ever so slightly back towards you, his own hand finding yours, larger fingers lacing with your own. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. The dressing on his arm where the bullet had clipped him seemed to glow, taunting you. He did this himself, it said. You left, he almost took a fucking bullet for you and you didn’t even fix it for him .

The slow expansion and contraction of his torso paused for a moment. Neither of you were heavy sleepers, your job had seen to that. “(Y/N)?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What’re you sorry for?” he asked, voice thick with sleep. 

Everything. “Yelling at you. I just…” You paused, no longer cold in the shadow of your dream, but still aware of its presence. “I don’t wanna see you get hurt.” 

There was a beat of silence, then he was turning over again to face you, his hand slipping from your own to run up over your forearm, your elbow, your upper arm, catching momentarily on the sleeve of your shirt before coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re here,” he whispered. “Thought I was dreaming…” 

You smiled, reaching out to run your fingers around the neck of his wifebeater singlet. Even just waking up, he looked good in the damn thing. “You were.” 

He frowned, the patch of rough red hashing standing out in the silvery dimness. Up this close, you could see every minute crease between his brows that hadn’t been there a minute ago, every tiny line of tension around his eyes. “What’re you doing here?” he asked. 

 You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I felt bad.” I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t help you and I couldn’t tell you, and you still don’t know. 

“For yelling at me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t wanna see you get hurt, either. That’s–” 

“All that matters. You said.” 

You were at a crossroads. You felt it as if someone had infused your every cell with the knowledge that you had two options, and you could only take one, and it would change things. How, you weren’t sure, but the sticky warmth of Ethan’s blood between your fingers and the rough dirt digging into your knees still made your skin tingle. 

“You’re wrong,” you continued. “That’s not all that matters.” 

The frown deepened. “Hm?” 

“You matter, Ethan. To me. If I don’t have you…” You shrugged, once again counting your breaths. How was it that you were more highly strung now than you had been while you were quite literally being chased through a market and shot at? It was so far away now, a distant memory of someone else. This, here, the gap barely wider than ten centimetres between your face and Ethan’s, the warm air and the pale moonlight, the warmer weight of his hand still on your shoulder… That was real. 

But bravery – a strange word, you realised, even as you had the thought – only went so far. “Don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” you finished lamely. 

He knew it wasn’t what you’d been going to say, that it barely went half way to getting across what you wanted to. But still, he just smiled and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You won’t ever have to find out.” 

Maybe you weren’t really awake. Maybe you’d wandered into his dream instead of his room, or maybe (and more likely) he’d found his way into yours. Maybe you really had turned over and gone back to sleep instead of padding down the hall and sliding in next to him, and this was your mind’s way of apologising to you for the earlier horror show. It must be, you reasoned, because somewhere you’d ended up pressed against his front – something that hadn’t happened before; you always found yourself curled around him from behind. Your skin felt like it was on fire as his hand slid across your collar, up your neck to rest on your cheek. 

The kiss, when it came, hardly registered as something new. After all, how many times had this played out in your mind? How many times had you wondered what it would be like to move those last few centimetres, lean across that last gap, shove the two of you over that line like he’d shoved you out of the way of that bullet. It was an extension of where you were right now, of where you’d been for the last however long, of where you’d somehow known you were eventually going to end up. 

He was as gentle with you as he’d always been, soft and so painfully careful. He held you like you might break, as if you were something precious and delicate, his hand warm where he cradled your face. You felt the last sticky residue of tension and fear drain from your body as you slid the hand that had been resting on his chest down, over his ribs, around his back, pressing between his shoulder blades. 

“Ethan,” you whispered as he pulled away, still close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You weren’t shivering anymore. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he replied, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face. 

You smiled, every cell in your body tingling with warmth. “So’re you.” 

“Mm-mm,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Not like you. You have no idea how beautiful you are.” 

There wasn’t much your kiss-addled, Ethan-filled brain could say to that. You closed the gap once more, his mouth impossibly soft, the faint hint of his toothpaste clinging to his tongue when it slid against your own. Someone – you or him, you weren’t sure – made a tiny noise somewhere in the realm of a sigh as you shifted even closer to him, hooking your leg over his. 

He was almost on top of you now, leaning over you, suspended carefully on one arm. You’d been here before, pressed into the floor of wherever you were sparring, sweaty and determined to do whatever it took to gain the upper hand again. Secretly, though, you’d wondered what that would feel like like this, and now you wondered if he had, too. 

Just as you had all those other times, you pushed your hips up off the mattress and flipped him smoothly. He huffed as you straddled him, blinking up at you in surprise before a smile spread over his face and he sat up, kissing you once more, his hands settling on your hips. You were half aware of your body curving towards his as your hands tangled in his hair, the rapid deterioration of your kisses into something that probably wouldn’t fit the word under any stringent definition. 

“Can I?” he asked, fingers flitting around the hem of your shirt. 

You just nodded, pulling the garment over your head quicker than you ever had before and casting it aside. If Ethan recognised it, he didn’t say anything. 

“You too,” you whispered when he didn’t show any signs of copying you, pulling at the thin cotton of his own shirt. 

“Huh?” 

“Shirt, dummy,” you smiled. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who’s naked.” 

“All’s fair in love and war.” 

Love. Your heart sped up at the word. This could be love. Or war, you supposed.

“I don’t think that’s what that means,” you said, wrinkling your nose. 

“Sure it is,” he shrugged. But his hands were at the hem of the stupid thing, and before you could say anything else he was easing it over his head – mindful of his arm – and tossing it to join yours. “Fair now?” 

“Yeah.” You’d seen him without a shirt before. Changing in the back of a van, bandaging a cracked rib or disinfecting a patch of tiny cuts where he’d rolled through broken glass (which happened far too frequently, in your opinion), passing him on his way out of the bathroom. Every time made your stomach flip over and your mind race, but you’d never been able to touch him like this before; run your hands down over his shoulders and arms, across his stomach, up again over his chest, around his ribcage, down the curve of his spine. 

He was in the same boat, you supposed, smiling as his hand slid appreciatively up your side, thumb skimming the soft underside of your breast. You moaned as he bent to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking at the flesh over your jugular and where your neck met your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin occasionally, tongue soothing the blossoming marks left behind. 

“Can I ask you something?” you sighed as he mouthed at the hollow of your collar bone. 

“Yeah.” 

“You said my name before. Were you dreaming about me?” 

Again, “Yeah.” 

You smiled. “What about me?” 

“That you were here.” He broke away from your skin, stretching to place a soft kiss on your lips. “And you were safe.” 

“Well I am.” There was more to it, you could feel it. 

“You are.” Another kiss, almost chaste in its brevity. 

“What else?” you asked. 

He paused, hesitant, then, “You had your legs around my neck.” 

Oh. Oh. 

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whispered. That image wasn’t a new one. The fact that he dreamed about you was news enough, but that… That sent a veritable deluge of heat and desire down through your body, pooling wetly between your thighs. You had to consciously stop yourself from grinding on him right then and there.  

You wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. He was pushing you backwards now, his kisses trailing down over your sternum, between your breasts – he paused here to mouth at one, kneading the other gently, making you moan again – and on to your stomach. He slowed when he reached the waistband of your underwear, kissing across the bridge between your hip bones, leaving you a belt of faint hickeys. 

“Can–” 

“Yes,” you answered.

He looked up at you from where he’d slid between your legs, one hand on your hip and the other pushing at your thigh. His hair hung over his forehead and almost into his eyes (you’d been trying to get him to let you trim it for weeks now), lips pink and kiss-swollen and so pretty. “Ok,” he smiled, pulling your underwear down over your legs shockingly easily, considering they were still wrapped around his waist. You cursed softly as he bent his head again, kissing the inside of your thigh. 

“Wondered what this’d be like,” he whispered, sucking at a spot beside it.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, your hand sliding down to rest on his head, fingers carding through his hair. 

He hummed softly into your skin. “What you’d taste like.” 

You cursed again as he licked over the mark, fingers skirting where you wanted him most, your skin on fire with every kiss.

“What you’d sound like.”

You pressed your lips together firmly, stifling any sound as he slid a finger over your wetness. You raised your head, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you wanna find out?” 

“Yes,” he breathed. His breath hitched in his chest, and there was that perfect movie-star grin. “Fuck, yes.” 

You opened your mouth to say something to that, but before the words had formed in your mind Ethan was licking up your cunt and the only thing that came out of your mouth was an embarrassingly loud moan. You felt him smile, his own soft noise of pleasure muffled against your flesh as he licked again, then sucked determinedly at your clit. 

“Oh, fuck , Ethan–” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, legs locked around his shoulders. 

“Hm?” 

“That’s fucking– You’re– Holy shit that’s good.” 

Ethan just grinned again, his tongue flicking over you, one finger circling your entrance. A suggestion. “Is this alright?” 

You nodded frantically, pressing your lips together as he pushed it inside you. “Yes,” you whined as he licked you again, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress as the hand not gripping his hair twisted in the sheets. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating over you as he sucked your clit, his finger working your hole. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted, practically grinding on his face. 

A soft hum, then he was adding a second finger, lapping up everything you were giving him as you squirmed , your breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the orgasm coming now, coiling in your stomach like a spring, hot and tight and Ethan was the one building it up. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his tongue and lips, every little grunt or hum, and his free hand gripping your thigh like a vice. You hoped you’d have bruises. 

“Oh, oh, Ethan, oh my God–” 

Close, you were so damn close. You were aware of your hips jutting up against his face, and the tiny part of your brain that wasn’t consumed with pleasure and want might have felt bad. 

“I’m gonna– fuck – holy shit , Ethan– Ethan I’m gonna–” 

Then everything was crashing around you and you were crying his name, your legs spasming and your spine arching, electricity fizzing through you. Ethan continued fucking you with his hand, slower and gentler now, his mouth soft on your sensitive clit. Maybe it was gradual, maybe not, but eventually your body transitioned from roiling static to a gentle buzz and your grip on his hair slackened, your legs relaxing around his shoulders. 

He sat calmly between your legs, licking his fingers. The entire lower half of his face shone silver in the moonlight with your slick, his lips pink and swollen, eyes fixed keenly on you. You thought if he looked at you like that a second longer, you were going to cum all over again. 

You smiled at him, your hand finding his where it still rested on your hip. Gently (though maybe it was because your limbs still felt so heavy and floppy), you pulled him up the bed and down on top of yourself, stretching up to kiss him hard. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue when it slid into your mouth, and his hand on your skin was slightly sticky. It slid around your waist, pushing against the small of your back, pressing your chest to his. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough of it.

You whispered his name against his lips, your own hands settled firmly around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The fabric of his underwear – why the hell was he still wearing anything? – seemed to burn where it brushed over your hip, pressing hot and hard against you. 

“(Y/N),” he breathed, pulling back enough to study your face carefully, as if he were memorising every detail. 

You felt the air catch in your lungs, your heart skip a beat. “You’re so…” Pretty. Lovely. Gorgeous. Hot. Handsome. Beautiful. You’re everything, Ethan. “God, I love you.”

He froze, and it was only then that you realised you’d said it. You’d actually said the goddamn words, aloud, to him. 

“Are you serious?” he asked. Not incredulous, not judgemental, simply seeking clarification. 

And how the hell were you supposed to lie? You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry. 

“Say it again.” 

“I love you,” you repeated numbly. Then, swallowing, “Is that ok?” 

Another beat passed in silence, then he laughed. “Yes, dammit, I love you too.” 

“You… love me too.” Had you heard him right? Had you somehow wandered back to your dream, fallen into an orgasm-dulled sleep and imagined the last few minutes? But no, Ethan’s lips felt real enough when they brushed yours again, his fingers felt real enough on your back. 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

“Say it again.” 

“I love you. And you love me, don’t you?” 

You nodded, an absurd bubble of laughter swelling in your chest. “Yes,” you grinned. “I love you, Ethan.”

This kiss was different. A kiss has to taste different after something like that, you supposed, and you were both still smiling. You reached down, your fingers skirting the waistband of his underwear, then further still to press your hand against his hard bulge. He moaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss to glance down, up again. 

“Off,” you whispered, already pulling at the fabric. He obliged, quickly and smoothly as he’d rid himself of his shirt, and in a moment his lips were back against your own, hot and hungry. You took his cock in your hand, your own lips moving away from his across his jaw, the hollow where it met his neck, his skin clean and smooth and tasting faintly of hotel soap. 

His dick was hot to the touch, thick and long and roped with veins. You’d wondered, sometimes, what this would feel like. You’d imagined the sound he’d make when you touched him like this (it couldn’t ever have come close to the real thing, you knew that now), how that hot weight would feel against your tongue. He groaned in earnest as you stroked your hand along his length, your thumb swiping around the leaking head. He cursed softly, your name hissing between his teeth, hips moving gently in tandem with your hand. 

“I wanted you for so long, Ethan,” you murmured into his neck. “You have no idea.” 

“Yeah?” 

You smiled. “I dream about you too, you know.” 

He faltered, just for a moment, then, “What about me?” 

You felt your smile widen and you frantically suppressed the urge to laugh again at the echo of your own earlier words. “I dream about fucking you six ways into next week,” you said simply. “Sucking your cock till I’m choking on it and making you cum in my mouth. Or in my pussy, I don’t care.”

“Oh fuck, (Y/N), Jesus,” he groaned, the sound sending another bolt of heat to your still sensitive pussy. “You think about that when we’re out there?” 

“Mhm.” This time you did laugh, nothing more than a soft exhale, not stopping your hand’s movements. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to jerk you off when you’re tryna aim a gun.” 

His cock twitched in your grasp, a low moan pressed back behind his lips. “God, (Y/N) that’s–” 

“Insane?” 

“So fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Wanna feel you, all of you. Can I?” 

Now it was your turn to curse. “Yes,” you breathed, wriggling to wrap your legs around his waist, your hand leaving its place to grip his shoulder, run down his arm, guide his hand to your hip. “Please, Ethan.”

“Here?” 

“Yeah. Here.” You ground your hips against his, already tingling as his cock slid against your slick centre. “I want you inside me. Need you.” 

“Shit, ok, just let me–” He broke off as he sank into you, his hum of pleasure mingling with your own breathy moan. Maybe it was the after effects of your earlier orgasm, the dream state you still weren’t entirely sure you’d broken out of, or a combination of both, but you swore that nothing would ever top this feeling. It was like he was made for you, slow and soft as he pulled out and pushed back in, did it again, then again and again. 

“Shit, Ethan,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair as he bent his head to kiss your chest. You were glad it was still long enough for this, that you hadn’t managed to get him to cut it. He groaned against you and you smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 

“Harder?” you murmured. “Don’t have to be so gentle.” 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he replied, his breath warm against your skin. 

“You won’t, don’t worry. Please?” 

He raised his head, eyes searching your face. “Ok,” he said, dipping down to kiss your lips quickly and softly before he was drawing away and sitting back between your legs, lifting your hips with one hand and sliding a pillow under your lower back with the other. 

Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies swirling alongside the magma in your stomach. This time he pushed hard into you, his cock stroking every inch of your insides, the hand that had been on your hip sliding to press down on your pelvis. “Yes,” you gasped, “yes, just like that.” 

“Like this?” Another thrust, even and determined. 

“Yeah, oh fuck that’s so good.” You reached up over your head, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed as the other twisted in the sheets, eyes fixed on Ethan. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, shining as though he was cast in silver. He was a fucking masterpiece. 

“You’re so good,” he said. “You look so perfect like that, feel like Heaven, (Y/N), I swear.” 

Oh, did he know what he was doing to you? Every jolt of his hips against yours building low inside you, his barely restrained little sounds and the heaving of his chest. You weren’t going to last much longer. 

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, “ fuck, Ethan, you feel so good. Making me feel so fucking good, so good , you have no idea.” 

“Hm?” 

“So hot. You’re so goddamn hot, you know that?” 

“(Y/N)–” 

You were close. You were so fucking close, wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You whined his name, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, legs tight around his waist. 

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m– I’m gonna–” He broke off, pressing his lips together, his eyes fixed on you. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum?”

“Yeah, fuck, where do I–” 

“In me.” 

“You sure?” 

Were you sure? You’d been sure for way too long now. “Yeah, dammit, wanna feel you cum in my pussy, fucking filling me up so good–” 

That did it. His thrusts stuttered and slowed as he spilled inside you, his chest heaving and his head tilted back, eyes closed, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. God, he was just too much, and you’d made him look like that. It had been you, all you, and it was you he was still buried deep inside. Your own climax rolled over you with that, your body squeezing tight and hot around him, your grip on the bed hard enough that you were sure your knuckles were white, spine arching as bliss flooded your body. You might have said his name, he might have said yours again, but it didn’t matter. 

You lay there, warm all over and shaking, watching him. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at you, gingerly pulling out to flop beside you on the mattress. 

“Clean up?” he asked, already reaching over the side of the bed. 

“Yeah.” You were too heavy to do anything but let him gently run the towel he’d found between your legs, thighs and stomach twitching when the rough cotton came into contact with your oversensitive clit. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, cursorily wiping at his own crotch before tossing the piece of fabric away. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” you sighed again, wriggling off the pillow and kicking it aside. You shifted closer to him, his arm sliding around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, his heart beating strong next to your own. Your eyes were drawn to the darker, rougher patch on his cheek, and you frowned. 

“What?” he asked. 

“This.” You ran your fingers over it gently, barely even touching the skin, doing the same to the dressing on his arm. “And this. Can I have a look tomorrow?” 

“It is tomorrow.” He nodded to the clock. Right, yeah. After midnight. “I thought I did an ok job,” he went on before you could say anything. 

“Ethan, there’s nothing even on this one,” you protested. “It’s just… there.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna kiss it better?” 

“I never said that.” You smiled, dipping to brush the spot with your lips. Featherlight, barely there. “Better?” 

He nodded. 

“I still want to check them.” 

“Ok,” he relented, squeezing your shoulder gently.  

You shifted closer, your face inches from his own. Up this close, you could see the baby hairs stuck to his forehead with sweat, every eyelash shining iridescent white under the moon. “I meant it,” you whispered.

“What?” 

“That you matter to me. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.” 

His breath rushed through his lungs and back out again as he stretched to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most important thing to me, too. I love you.” 

You tilted your face to his, this time meeting his lips with your own. It was slow, unhurried, relaxed and tender, and everything you adored in Ethan. “I love you, too,” you whispered into it. Then, grinning as you drew back, “And I meant all the other stuff, too.” 

He raised an eyebrow, “All of it?” 

“Yeah.” 

His chest shook with faint laughter under you, his hand stroking over your shoulder. “I didn’t know you thought like that. Didn’t know you thought about me like that.” 

“Yeah, well…” You trailed off, shrugging, your cheeks warm. “Sorry if it was a bit much.” 

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “it wasn’t. I liked it.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You know,” you said as you lay down, “anyone else couldn’t waterboard that out of me.” 

“Guess I’m just that special.” 

“You are, Ethan.” You weren’t shivering anymore, the only weight in you was the pleasant kind of exhaustion that came with finally being safe, being home. Ethan was alive and he knew, he knew you loved him, and he knew what he meant to you, and he loved you too. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had.

[ineffablecrisp]

I mainly go feral over Maverick on this blog but trust me when I say I feel so incredibly normal and okay about Ethan Hunt

[highlifeboat]

i didnt know about the cass first bite voiceline! i think maybe she’s at the “bottom” because alcina knows she’s the best hunter, like she knows cassandra has the drive and skill to hunt. (not saying its fair, but plausible reasoning) like, daniela says she wants to hunt like cass, so maybe alcina is a little more concerned/protective over dani getting enough fresh food. bela ig has big sister privileges lmao. the older two might be complaining more because they overestimated ethan (obvi), but its so funny to think like: “I’m going to vent about the frustrations of my family dynamic while slowly killing you :)” …..girls…..

That's honestly pretty good reasoning.

It's shown that Alcina worries a lot for Daniela. So much so that she literally LOCKED HER AWAY in a place that Ethan only got into BY CHANCE because Alcina left her key hung up where he could find it, and then he had to actively search out ANOTHER key to get into the room Daniela was actually in. (If Ethan never had to enter the library, Daniela very well could have been the sole survivor of the Dimitrescu family.)

With that logic I'd actually be willing to bet that Alcina makes both Bela and Cassandra wait, so Daniela can eat first to ensure she's getting enough. So maybe their "feeding order" is different from their actual hierarchy. Daniela and Bela eat before Cassandra but Daniela isn't actually as respected as Cass is or anything. It's just because she doesn't have the drive/patients/ability to hunt for herself like Cass does.

Mind you I always assumed they just went in like feral animals when they killed people, but it's interesting to think that Cass (or Bela, though Cass is probably their main hunter) would kill a maid, and then call Daniela over to see if she was hungry before going at it themselves, because they were taught to always let Daniela eat first since she was less capable of hunting than them.

[buckybarnesss]

I LOVE READING ALL OF YOUR TEEN WOLF THOUGHTS!!!!

But I do have some questions. You had an interesting post about Omegas and how the Feral thing was Argent Propaganda/made up by fans, but it got me thinking about Ethan and Aiden. Before the alpha pack took them in, didn't they talk about how their previous pack had them at the bottom of the hierarchy, that they were the Omegas of the pack? How does TW define Omega?

Also, what was with their mutant alpha form? Were they like, special or have special powers? If you squint hard enough, could you say that's why Peter (maybe the hales?) had a psychic link with Scott?

thank you anon. i'm glad you enjoy my posts!

the hale triskele tells us what an omega is. it's a status of werewolf just like alpha and beta are.

werewolves derive their power from their packs so an omega being less powerful than a beta is often because they are without a pack hence the lone wolf.

the idea that omegas are feral is total propaganda to me. the omega we did see in omega was a normal guy seeking out an alpha but he was vulnerable due to being alone. the argents use the idea of omegas being feral to justify hunting and killing them.

when peter resurrected himself it came at a great cost of power. he says as much to derek in battlefield.

i'm not healing as fast. coming back from the dead isn't easy, you know. i'm not as strong as i used to be. i need a pack. i need an alpha. an alpha like you. i need you as much as you need me.

i tend to take what ethan and aiden say about omegas with a grain of salt because i think their lived in experience is unfortunately shaped by the abuse they endured rather than the norm of most werewolf packs. they were the scapegoats and "bitches" of their pack because their alpha was an abusive piece of work. duecalion didn't have to do much manipulation with them because all the had to do was show the twins basic compassion and offer them a way out.

as for their alpha form -- my best guess is that since your shift reflects what you are inside and being twins was a core part of their identity they were able to merge almost like vanishing twin twin syndrome in the womb only they became one giant person. we know the writers use the concept in season 5 for mason being a genetic chimera because he absorbed his twin in the womb. so maybe their ability to merge stems from that but don't quote me on it.

peter and scott's psychic connection has long fascinated me. it's rather unique to the teen wolf mythos. if i were to offer my best guess on this one i would say peter was able to develop a more refined and powerful aspect of the pack connection. derek exhibits a less powerful form of this when he senses scott dying in raving.

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

So.

It's evil Wednesday.

Short headcanons for the ladies finding their lover killed by Ethan.

You want some angst? Alright then, have some angst 😌

Alcina: When the Countess loves, she loves hard - deep. A woman who's been alive for what feels like ions, she only knows to love like it could all be taken away tomorrow - because she knows all too well that it can. It's no surprise when she drops to her knees - your body bloodied and still on her bedroom floor. Swiftly cradling you limp in her arms. Half of her so overcome with grief that she can barely breath, the other wanting nothing more than to release into her dragon form and rip the person responsible to absolute shreds. How her body trembles, eyes glistening with unspent tears as she gently strokes her thumb over your cheek. A soft, broken "Pet?" slipping from her lips every minute or so until she finally falls forward, body overwhelmed with sobs. The promise of your future together gone within a second.

Bela: She's quiet as she walks towards your broken body - face solemn and eyes cold. She could smell your death as soon as entered the room, but the sight of it now was almost more than she can handle. She was used to being the strong one, known for the being the most level headed. But looking at the soft trickle of blood that drips from your slightly agape mouth and your vacant gaze was enough to break anyone's composure. She swallows hard - biting back heated tears and the steady breaking of her own heart. You were one of the few she let in and now you were... gone. She kisses you softly on the temple and then rises to wipe the tears from her eyes. She had a murderer to take care of, after all.

Cassandra: The entire castle is filled with the sounds of her rage when she finally comes across you - your body overrun with bullets. A flash of red across her eyes as she runs over to you, screaming in wounded agony as she pulls you close. She curses - at you, at herself. For loving you, for leaving her. She's uncontrollable in her rage.. running throughout the castle in a feral haze. Sniffing down every hallway as she searches for her prey. She will avenge you - for that you can be certain. Cassandra won't stop the hunt until she's drained every last drop of blood from Ethan's lifeless body.

Daniela: At first the redhead will be positive that you must be playing a prank on her - an incredibly cruel one, yes, but there was just absolutely no way you could actually be dead... right? You promised you'd never leave her, that you'd always love her. But as soon as her eyes fall to your lips - to lips that no longer take in breaths or have the ability to tell her how beautiful she is - Daniela sobs uncontrollably. Your body held close to hers, tears staining her robes and your already blood soaked clothes. She's inconsolable - grief stricken - her love for you an all consuming entity within itself. So distraught she's barely aware of her surroundings - so lost in loss that she doesn't even hear the door to library as it opens, nor the soft click of the safety that soon follows.

Donna: Even though the dollmaker has spent most of her life preparing for people to leave, that doesn't stop the shock as she stares at your lifeless body when her and Angie stumble across you. She's almost stuck in disbelief, frozen in denial. How could she just accept this to be true? I mean.. it wouldn't be the first time somebody saw something that wasn't real around her. But, no.. it eventually becomes all to clear to her that she's actually lost you - that her worst fear has come true. Or.. has it? So obsessed with the idea of keeping you around - of having you stay - the dollmaker gruesomely puts her skills to use, making sure she never has to say goodbye to you again.

Sal: She'll walk over to you slowly - solemnly. Finding your body broken and limp along the path back to her hut. She can still smell the gunpowder fresh in the air as she leans over you, eyes steadily filling with tears. "Luv?" her voice cracks. ".. luv?" Her head falls with a single sob, body shuddering as she lifts you up into her arms and holds you against her chest. The scent of the cupcakes she made you that morning still lingering on your cold lips as she kisses them gently. A final stolen kiss before she breaks down into sobs. No one had ever loved her like you had - truly seeing her for who she was and loving every part of it. She takes a deep breath and slowly walks you back to her hut, placing your lifeless body safely on her couch before a deep growl rolls over her. The only thought in her mind is the one where she drags Ethan's struggling body to the very bottom of the reservoir.

Miranda: Let's be honest.. if Miranda actually loved someone enough to label them as her significant other, she would burn the village to the ground and everyone in it to have her vengeance. She would stop at nothing to make Ethan pay for everything he's taken from her.

I hope you enjoyed those, dear 😌😭😭😭

[corvus-the-trickster]

Is Cecily alive in your aus? And how is Ethan as father I feel he's not a great one 👀, has Jacob a child or he's only a bird's dad? Lastly is Henry involved in your aus? Thank you for answering in advance 😄

Cecily is unfortunately not alive in the aus I've made so far. She didn't die during childbirth in the werewolf au however, she went feral shoetly after the twins were born and the brotherhood pressured Ethan to take her out.

I want to fistfight Ethan in all of these aus and I damn near do have plans for Evie to fight his "ghost" in my fire at Alhambra au where Jacob dies with Roth but piece of eden yada yada. Even in the modern au he's a bit of a dick.

Oh yeah also gonna leave this here but Jacob fell so easily for Roth because Roth seemed to offer him the freedom he never had when his father was alive

I do have three ocs for a future sketchpage of Jacob's wife, bio daughter and adopted daughter, but first he was a bird dad. Gaining Sprinkos dueing the game events. Sprinkos is in like every au. Even the victorian legends one, though i don't think he's gonna be a magical immortal bird.

Henry has more involvement in the werewolf and modern aus than the others. I need to draw him more tbh.

In the werewolf au, the assassins would hunt the werewolves before they could be used by the templars as like attack dogs, of course Cecily and her family were never found out by the brotherhood. Henry's involvement is moreso as the only full human in the trio and keeps them from the scrutinising eyes of whatever still remains of London's brotherhood when the tempkars use Jacob's lycanthropy against them.

Evie can't transform in the au but she does have rhe enhancements in speed, strength and agility as well as the fangs and weakness to silver.

I'm not sure to what extent his role will be in victorian legends though, maybe much the same as canon, where he's the one looking for the shroud and kind of being the reason that Evie's in London. Whilst also helping her find whatevers left of her brother.

[ethanhuntfemmefatale]

so much love in my heart for ethan hunt ghost protocol era because he is so feral and tired & such a bitch...he is not ready to be a leader he's not ready to be a mom (hes 47)

[teenwolfrarepairevents]

February Round Up: Isaac Lahey

Is it almost April? Yes. Is this going to be a trend for these round ups? Probably. But here are the stats for our February Character of the Month! We created 47 new works for Isaac Lahey rarepairs.

That’s 2 more than January! … so we should step it up for these last few days of March cause I don’t think Boyd’s gotten as much love…

Specifically, these 47 works breakdown into: 2 videos, 14 written works, and 28 artworks across 23 ships!

Links to them all below. Remember, if you post on Ao3, please add your work to the collection!

Videos:

Isaac Edit by domesticated-feral

Isaac/Stiles/Scott by domesticated-feral

Collected Works on Ao3:

dark humor makes everything better by RayByAnotherName (same on tumblr)

Isaac/Malia: Isaac and Malia bond over dark humor and Isaac asks her out.

Tumblr Post

paint me like one of your french girls by ashyjingles (same on tumblr)

Isaac/Brett: 3 times Isaac Lahey didn't know who the hell Brett Talbot was and the one time he did.

Tumblr Post

Secret Admirers by cosim18

Isaac/Stiles/Kira: Stiles begins finding little gifts and notes, seemingly directed at him, but he couldn't fathom who they were from. Once he does, he finds himself immersed in a dynamic he could only have dreamed of before.

Milkshakes at Castle Doom by RhysLahey (same on tumblr)

Isaac/Brett: Isaac came back from France only to find that there was a new werewolf in town, that everybody seemed to know him, and that now, to his surprise, he's got a crush on.

Chapter 1 Tumblr Post, Chapter 2 Tumblr Post

The Kobold Quarry Project by RhysLahey (same on tumblr)

Isaac/Brett + Isaac & Erica & Boyd: Erica, Boyd and Isaac finaly get permission to film their own cryptid-hunting documentary, so they head out to the mountains around Beacon Hills to film and spot the elusive kobold. For better or for worse, Brett finds himself at the centre of his boyfriend's (and his friends') shenanigans.

Chapter 1 Tumblr Post, Chapter 2 Tumblr Post, Chapter 3 Tumblr Post

Other Written Work:

Isaac/Scott/Kira Fic by impalachick

Isaac/Scott/Theo(/Liam) Fic by wolfboy88 (link on ao3)

Isaac/Theo Fic by polifandom

Isaac/Jackson Ficlet + Moodboard by lemonhoarddragoness

Isaac & Jordan & Liam Ficlet + Moodboard by wolfboy88

Isaac/Theo Fic Sneak Peak + Moodboard outcastpack

Isaac/Theo Ficlet + Moodboard by transdunbar

Isaac/Liam Ficlet by wolfboy88

Isaac/Brett Ficlet/Postcard Set by rhyslahey

(Where in the World Is Isaac Lahey?)

London, no. 2

Alicante, no. 1

Ravenna, no. 1

Aqaba, no. 1

Knossos, no. 1

Prague, no. 1

Rida, no. 1

Finland, no. 1

Moodboards:

Isaac/Boyd Moodboard by silent-snake7

Isaac/Danny Moodboard by silent-snake7

Isaac/Brett Moodboard by silent-snake7

Isaac/Theo Moodboard by thiamsxbitch

Isaac/Malia/Scott Moodboard by thiamsxbitch

Isaac & Boyd & Erica Moodboard by thiamsxbitch

Isaac/Liam Moodboard by thiamsxbitch

Isaac/Malia Moodboard by thiamsxbitch

Isaac/Kira Moodboard by softranswolves

Isaac/Ethan/Aiden Moodboard by wolfboy88

Isaac & Theo & Erica Moodboard by transdunbar

Isaac/Malia/Scott Moodboard by moths-in-hats

Isaac/Brett/Jackson Moodboard by wolfboy88

Isaac/Kira Moodboard by moths-in-hats

Isaac/Scott/Liam Moodboard by thiamsxbitch

Isaac/Theo/Liam Moodboard by thiamsxbitch

Isaac/Liam/Scott/Theo Moodboard by thiamsxbitch

Isaac/Josh Moodboard by thiamsxbitch

Isaac/Brett Moodboard by thiamsxbitch

Isaac/Liam/Scott/Theo Moodboards by wolfboy88

Isaac/Josh Moodboard by wolfboy88

Isaac/Brett Moodboard by wolfboy88

[missunderstood-with-ideas]

Mission impossible 3 was Ethan’s feral cat biting era. (I’m serious he bit like 4 people in the span of 2hrs Julia please vaccinate your husband. Luther come get ur boy)

Which is funny cuz Julia straight up domesticated Ethan. The cat distribution system worked to well and Julia got a husband with a cat personality instead of a plain and normal cat.

Ethan probably wandered over and Julia just picked him up and took him home. She literally got hobo!Ethan who canonically sleeps in barns/abandoned warehouses/hotel rooms/garages/streets and is legitimately a squatter to sleep in her bed and live with her (it has to be her house, Ethan credit is probably like a 6, the insurance company’s hates and loves him at the same time. If he does have a good credit score it’s 98% faked/hacked by Luther who looks at his peasant friend and feels bad) which btw has the same energy as a human seeing a feral cat on the side of the road and just picking them up and taking them home *your my friend now! And then casually catnaps them*

Ethan also give off the outdoor farmcat attitude of stopping by and living in the house for some days then disappearing back to its colony or back to work. Liked a shared custody case. The other spies be like bro wtf have you been??? And Ethan will be like I got myself a wife, food, and a roof over my head by just giving her all my affection wby? How’s living in that barn rn?

In conclusion Ethan hunt is a feral cat who was pretty enough to get adopted by a single but gorgeous women.

Discuss if u must

[flashnthunder]

Miscellaneous tag game

@grumpy-liebgott and @sharkboyandlavalieb tagged me <333 and i am of course a million years late

Favorite place in the world you’ve visited?

inside the us i would say maine, i love the ocean/forest combo it's got going on

Something you’re proud of yourself for?

coauthoring several medical research papers as an undergrad, which is like my one and only flex and it's a nerdy one

Favorite books?

new hampshire- robert frost, the art of being human- michael wesch, ajax- sophocles (yes, only one of these is technically a book ik)

Something that makes your heart happy when thinking about it?

it might be cheesy to say music, but music and my friends <3

Favorite thing about your culture?

from the midwest US (so there's not that much), but i was raised very much in borderline appalachia and the older i've gotten the more i've come to appreciate that as part of how i was raised, so i would say quilting! i was taught to quilt by the women in my family and i still cherish the connection to them through that

When did you join the HBO War fandom? What was the first show you watched?

band of brothers in 8th grade, my history teacher would play it for us and i'm pretty sure he used it in place of actually teaching but he was a real one and also a drill sergeant so i don't think anyone argued with his methods

Have you read any of Easy Company’s books? If so, which ones were your favorite?

have NOT read any BoB books, but i have read most of the ones that inspired the pacific + a shit ton of pacific memoirs in general

Favorite HBO War character and your favorite moment with them?

lip and luz with the dud shell, bull watching out for the younger replacements, the officers in the eagle's nest, and just in general all of episode 8

Do you make content for any fandoms, if so; what sort of content?

band of brothers, top gun, the pacific (hypothetically), mota now it looks like, way back to my roots would be star trek and also whatever was going on with bandoms in hs that is a dark time

Favorite actor/actress and your favorite film of theirs?

oooh idk it changes, but last year i was on an ethan hawke kick- 'adopt a highway' and 'first reformed' are two he's good in (obligatory dead poets society mention ofc)

Favorite quote/s that you wish to share with others?

"Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night." - sarah williams

Random fact your mutuals/followers don’t know about you?

so bad at fun facts uhhh. uh. i am double-jointed in my hands.

If you’re a writer, do you need a beta reader (say yes so I can be your beta reader 🤭)?

i have NEVER had a beta reader and i am simply too scared to ask how it works because i'm not sure anyone should have to be subjected to my writing process but!! always willing to give a new thing a shot

Three things that make you smile?

my dog when she stretches in the sun, swimming in a creek in the summer, sitting in the car with my best friend while it rains

Any nicknames you like?

izzy! i have liked it well enough to all but legally make it my real name, other than that izzy-maye from people i'm close with, or iz/izzers when people are in a hurry

List some people you love to see around on tumblr!

@andromeddog art makes me go feral, @mutantmanifesto killer art that is living rent-free in my mind, @ewipandora MWAH you already know you make my day better on here, @onehelluvamarine has me kicking my feet giggling when they're in my notifs, @terresdebrume lovely writing <3

What would you do during a zombie apocalypse?

foolproof 3 step plan, ready for it? 1- find a good ditch 2- lay down in the ditch 3- just let it happen

idealistically i think i could go chill in the woods for a semi-significant period of time and be alright

Favorite movie?

logan's run (comfort movie, questionable 70s sci-fi), the hunt for red october (always feeling very big feelings on this), arrival, apocalypse now, fury, dead poets society, alexander (like the 4 hours version because im insufferable like that) the old star trek movies

Do you like horror movies?

i love horror movies WITH people you will not catch me watching them on my own, but 100% love love getting to sit on someone's couch and watch one

Tagging:

(no pressure and apologies for any double tagging) @ewipandora @blood-mocha-latte @deputy-buck @lamialamia @blurredcolour @saturnwisteria @staud + anyone i tagged in my answers and forgot to tag down here, or anyone who just wants to do it :)

[fantasy-relax]

Brains worms demand information about the Chris, Mia and Ethan.

The king was paranoid and his children were narcissistic and just wanting to take the throne. The king ordered the execution of the second line, the Winters to avoid usurpers, Chris (alpha) and Claire are part of this line.

Albert(alpha) convinced his father to keep Chris alive and in exchange Chris will hunt and kill all the illegitimate children that could try to dethrone him. This wasn't done because of mercy, Albert is obsessed with Chris, they being distant cousins not affect him he wanted to keep him for himself forever.

His father tell him to kill Claire, but he fakes her death and send her away to maintain his control over Chris ( try to escape she is dead, try to kill him she is dead, looks at someone else she is dead) he is just wanting, making Chris do all the hard work of dealing with the threats to his future reign.

Chris do it, he kills and kills and kills ( man, woman, teenagers, children, babies) until Claire gets information back to him about an rebellion. Then he starts making preparations.

Mia and Ethan (as the dimitrescu sisters) are illegitimate children but of a member of the second line, they are half siblings actually, their mothers planned keep them around until they were olds enough to be of use about 8 year old normally as for that time they features and scent start showing and that can be used as a form of familiarity.

Mia is a wild little shit ( similar to her resident lover version) as she was the one that have zero support or care giving.

When Ethan was born she did her best for him, so he is a lot more calm but still is ready to do whatever he needs to do to save what he loves. Ethan was pretty much the only good thing in her life, so when Chris show up asking(demanding) support to take the throne she makes a deal, she will be the perfect spy/assassin as long as Ethan is safe.

She kills both of their mothers, fake her death and Ethan is send to a trustworthy family allied, the Bakers. He grows to love them just to watch all of them be killed by Miranda orders because Lucas was in deep shit and his family pay the price, Ethan was spared because he was part of the second line.

He is angry at Mia when the reveal happens but still accept her back in his life (their relationship take long to heal) , he accept to marry Karl because he doesn't want more bloodshed (and to be away from the place that brings so painful memories) he tries to be a good husband and alpha as he knows Karl is very hurt too. Ethan is the one doing the heavy lifting of the relationship.

Ethan fall first, because Karl is hard working and loves with savagery, he puts a show of not caring at all but he does, he feels things very deeply and through stubbornness and patience breaks the barriers that Karl put, one by one.

The heat and rut periods are deeply emotional and exhausting, is not all about reproduction and lust, is also about connection, trust and vulnerability.

Emotional needs come first, physical after and emotional again at the end. Both dynamics are protective and territorial when they are in heat/rut and both are dangerous and should be treated with caution.

Omegas in heat tends to want to be comforted and spoiled by parents or mates, if they have toddlers or babies they want them to be close so they can care for them and sex never cross their mind (partners that try to get lucky end with claws mark and not the good ones)

Alphas in rut tend to want to be needed and praised by parents or mates, if they have toddlers or babies they will want them close were they can protect them.

Rational thinking is reduced and feral behavior is augmented, however this happens slowly so alphas/ omegas trying to excuse their actions as hormonal had to be reviewed with detail.

Now take all that and put the Ethan/ Karl relationship, because as married couple the duty to take care of each other is expected and pretty much obligatory. Ethan does his best to be a good husband/alpha and Karl can't help but think that this what his parents were talking about, this is what they were hoping for him, he followed their steps, he is married to a good man (he knows his preferences) he has everything they ever wished for him but it doesn't matter because they aren't here to see it.

Things get more rocky with the unexpected pregnancy and subsequent birth of Rose as Karl haven't mourn properly the family he lost so he keeps his daughter and husband at arm length but Ethan is determination incarnate he will never accept defeat ( because he knows that Karl loves them he can see it, he can feel it, he can smell it so he can wait for it)

Mia not likes alcina at all for starters because she remind her of all the haughty nobles that made her existence miserable. But she has a soft spot for the daughters because they have similar background, the daughters hate her but they can't help to go to her when they have bad days were everything feels wrong (alcina tries to understand but there is much she can do) because Mia was a feral child too, she understand them better than anybody.

Acting for so long in instinct alone Is very damaging to the psyche, worst when is done in the childhood. They get better but they will be always living in the edge of human and beast.

So the alcina falls in love first thanks to care and patience that Mia showed to her daughters. She will let them go feral at her when they needed to vent (play fight, biting, growling, scratching, etc), will teach to be proud of this side of them and to use it as weapon also will listen attentively when they have fights with alcina.

Mia falls in love with alcina after seeing the ferocity of her love and the depth of her dedication to her family, because alcina tries to hide how much she actually cares but Mia is expert in reading people, alcina can't hide shit from her ( funny/sad fact Mia is oblivious to the fact that alcina is in love with her but this is because she believes that she is unworthy of being loved)

[eemcintyre]

Re-watching and re-evaluating "M:I - Dead Reckoning (Part One)"

A long, long time ago, somewhere in the Internet ether, I had promised to review this movie. well here it is if anyone still cares

Still think the introductory scene in the submarine was a bit long, but it didn't feel as long as it did the first time when I was foaming at the mouth to see Tom and only Tom for the first time in a new movie in the theater

Definitely a lot of exposition in the first Cary Elwes/Kittridge/etc. scene, but the information was necessary for the most part. Just very funky and unnatural how they divided the dialogue amongst everyone and they were finishing each other's sentences, like people Do Not talk like that

Also did anyone else think it was weird how long it was until the intro credits montage too? Idk maybe that's my personal artistic choice talking. Either way it was a super neat montage and I loved it, regardless of when it occurred; I was just afraid the first time I saw it that we weren't going to get one 👀👀👀

The whole end-of-days AI thing is definitely way too relevant and 1) stresses me out v badly, but also 2) Tom Cruise gives me hope that maybe we will eventually defeat it, even if it's not by he himself punching it to death 🤞🏻💖

Best comprehensive soundtrack of the franchise; the only one that has actually stuck out in my mind and I can remember at all and has stirred up genuine emotion in me

The Rome car chase safely occupies the spot as the best one I've ever seen, and you can tell the difference with how they used real sets and props vs. just wall-to-wall greenscreen 😖 I also love how the hijinks with like, the handcuffs and the seat-switching feel like smth out of an older spy comedy movie?? Vintage vibes ✨🤌🏻

If Tom Cruise could just casually stand with me protectively like that for a while and shield me from the w o r l d I think it might fix me 🥺🥲

The way Grace drives is a glimpse into what it feels like for me every time I get on the road

I love the yellow Fiat and I want it gimme gimme

Pom Klementieff's character is definitely too over the top for me. absolutely feral. someone tranquilize her pls. give her a nap. but hey, I'm glad she's having fun 🩷

Rebecca Ferguson was so underused and felt weirdly distant and separated even when she was present in this movie- def my biggest disappointment >:(

When I say I absolutely hated the big retcon about how agents are drafted into the IMF like MY PUPPY-DOG EYED NERD BENJI AND ETHAN "LOVES HIS FRIENDS" HUNT WERE NOT CRIMINALS IT DOESN'T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE FOR THEIR CHARACTERS BOY HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND CAUSE I'LL HELP YOU FIND IT 😤😤😤

Didn't think I was going to like Hayley Atwell at all before seeing the movie bc I tend not to like the way female action movie characters are written and I am a simp for Ilsa if you couldn't tell, but I ended up really enjoying her

Gabriel showed a lot of promise as a cool villain in the beginning when he was all mysterious, but ultimately there wasn't anything memorable about him for me. Only one who's earned that reward to date in M:I is Philip Seymour Hoffman, but maybe if/when we learn more about his backstory/motivation; hope is still alive for now

They've got Grace dressed like a fkin pirate there in Venice. And Pom is giving absolute "Black Parade" realness

ILSA MY SWEET LITTLE BABY SHE DIED ALL ALONE AND THEY DON'T EVEN SHOW ANYONE CRYING OVER HER DEATH EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS SUCH A SO-CALLED CLOSE FRIEND AND ALLY AND *DEF MORE* TO ETHAN AND IT'S JUST SO FUCKING WEIRD AND WRONG I ALMOST WISH THEY'D JUST QUIETLY WRITTEN HER OUT AFTER FALLOUT

Like kill her off if Rebecca wants to engage in other projects but give the character a proper send-off if you must. But fr, I agree with everyone's critique that she was such a welcome departure and sign of progress from the completely-interchangeable-female-action-character-who's-only-there-to-provide-new-and-different-eye-candy-every-time, and then right after she's really established and gelled with everyone they kill her off and switch her out in the team with another brunette female IN THE VERY NEXT SCENE BEFORE HER BODY IS EVEN COLD IN THE GRAVE

Yes. I understand that it's an action movie and, within the high-stakes confines of the plot, time for mourning is limited. Yes I understand that the other characters have witnessed many other deaths before. But the fact is that her character was special and different, to the characters and to us, and the filmmakers could have done it better. Ok, main gripe of the movie over 😔

Not sure if it's a plot hole or I just don't understand technology, but couldn't the Entity have messed with the computer in Benji's car when he puts it in self-drive while trying to help Ethan board the train...? 🤨🤨

Yep the Train Scene was just as brilliant and utterly harrowing as I remembered; most stressful viewing experience of me life 🥲😭

And, as much of a stretch as it was, I am a sucker indeed still for the part where Pom saves their lives 🥺 and now I kinda hope she lives and sticks around and has a badass, dare I say heroic moment or two in the future

Overall, despite my number of gripes, it still goes down as my favorite movie in the franchise overall 💖 the perfect proportions of comedy and drama, so many iconic and likable characters, and plenty of the unparalleled action sequences we've come to expect but even better than any we've seen before, and I am chomping at the bit for Part Two to eventually, someday, please please please come out thank you and see you at the movies 👋🏻✨

[mlady-magnolia]

Tell us your top 5 fav mission impossible characters

Ooh!!

1. Alanna Mitsopolis/White Widow; Obviously. She is my beloved <3

2. Ilsa Faust; also obviously, she is Alanna’s beloved <3

3. Grace; Hayley Atwell was the reason I got into this franchise so I blame her for everything. Anyway, I love Grace, she’s so pathetic, she’s perfect

4. William Brandt; Yeah, I love Brandt okay? Jeremy Renner <3 He’s just there and he’s so concerned. I love him.

5. Ethan Hunt; he’s just cool. He’s so cool. Look at him run!! Look at him fight!! Look at him!!!

Honourable mention goes to Paris (she’s so fun to draw and she is feral), Julia Meade (my sweet beloved), and Sabine Moreau (for getting kicked out a fucking window)

[buckybarnesss]

Sooo... I don't think this is a canon thing but I have never seen the 2nd half of season 6 and it's well known by now that I snoozed through season 5, but:

Is it ever stated at any point that werewolves without a pack go feral? I know Argents target omega werewolves because they're cowards and it's easier to kill a lone wolf, but Derek is NOT in a pack from season 3b and onwards and he is as in control as he is in seasons 1 and 2.

Peter also is not in a pack after Derek loses his Alpha powers (assuming he was in Derek's to begin with, but those two are weird). Werewolves who lose control lack anchors to humanity, not packs. This is why when Peter came back to life (anchored literally by Derek), he was more stable.

Where did this idea of feral wolves come from, because I don't remember it all in the show?

i think the idea of feral omegas in teen wolf is largely a fandom creation.

being omega is a status just like being an alpha or beta. they have less power because they don't have a pack. in universe i fully believe that the idea that omegas become feral is propaganda from hunters to justify killing them.

we also know packs aren't just about power either (at least for the reasonable and sane alphas) as they also provide safety in numbers.

just look at what gerard says in the episode where the concept of omegas is introduced -- titled omega -- gerard says this shit:

"the lone wolf! possibly kicked out of his own pack, or the survivor of a pack that was hunted down, maybe even murdered... and possibly alone by his own choice... certainly not a wise choice... because, as a am about to demonstrate... an omega rarely survives on his own.

derek has been an omega and he's perfectly fine. it's why he was able to evolve. he collected statuses like he was playing bingo.

ethan and aiden were omegas in their original pack and while they tell scott, stiles and & co. that they were essentially "the bitches" of that pack they also indicate that their alpha was terrible and duecalion saved them from that.

being an omega is dangerous not because it makes a werewolf feral it's because they are alone.