#file under: faces: ezra

[knotfodder]

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 4.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 3,7K

tag: #what was that

summary: They have their first fight :')

author’s note: Beta reader: @rennethen

Cross-posted on AO3

—

The lab was unusually quiet for a Thursday afternoon, save for the steady hum of the machines and the rustle of papers as Renly flipped through a research file. Bent over the table, her mind was entirely absorbed in the task at hand when she sensed a subtle shift in the atmosphere. A presence at the door—a student, no older than twenty, with a shy but oddly confident grin.

Renly didn’t notice him immediately, her focus locked on her work, but the soft clearing of his throat drew her attention.

"Excuse me, Professor Huxley, I—" the young man began, his tone polite but with a faint attempt at charm.

Renly looked up, startled for only a moment before recovering with a polite smile. She recognized him—Ezra, a first-year student. Cute, a little too bold with some of the staff, though often forgiven because of his evident promise.

"Ezra," she greeted with a nod, keeping her tone professional. "I’m not a professor yet,” she smiled at him politely. “But what can I do for you?"

Ezra stepped closer, a little too close, his gaze lingering on her face as if memorizing every detail. "I was hoping you could help me with a project I’m working on," he said, his voice dipping just slightly. "Maybe after hours? I could really use your expertise."

Renly raised an eyebrow, holding back the instinct to step away. "I’m afraid I’m busy, but you can get started on your own. You know where the resources are," she replied evenly, the words polite but firm. She wasn’t one to let professionalism slide, especially with students. The last thing she needed was whispers of impropriety—not after John, and especially not with Viktor, well… unapproachable.

Ezra, however, didn’t take the hint. His eyes flickered down, lingering a beat too long before returning to hers, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That’s a shame," he said smoothly. "I really value your insight. More than anyone else on the staff."

Renly held back a sigh. His boldness might have been admirable under different circumstances, but now it was just exhausting. Before she could form a response, Viktor’s voice sliced through the room with chilling precision.

"She’s not interested."

Renly turned, startled to see Viktor standing in the doorway, a stack of papers in hand. He didn’t spare Ezra so much as a glance, his gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance, his tone cold enough to send the student reeling.

Ezra’s smirk faltered as he stumbled over his response. "Right. Well… sorry to bother you, prof... Miss Huxley." He cleared his throat, his confidence deflating as he turned on his heel and all but fled from the lab.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence that followed was as sharp as Viktor’s words had been.

Renly blinked, caught between surprise and something close to amusement. "What was that?" she asked, her voice light but tinged with curiosity.

Viktor had already moved toward his desk, setting the papers down with a controlled precision. He didn’t look at her as he muttered, "The boy’s an idiot. Driven by... stardom."

Renly crossed her arms, leaning against the table. "You’re not usually so… blunt."

Viktor adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable. "It was obvious."

"Obvious?" Renly tilted her head, her brow arching. "Obvious that he was flirting with me? I thought that was normal. Students try to impress their instructors all the time."

His lip curled faintly, the closest he came to a frown. "Normal? Perhaps. But pointless."

"Pointless?" she echoed, caught off guard by his sharpness.

Viktor’s gaze flicked up briefly, but he didn’t answer right away. His fingers busied themselves with the settings of a machine, though his movements were a fraction too deliberate.

Renly studied him, her amusement giving way to intrigue. "Why, does it bother you?" she asked, her voice softening.

"It doesn’t," Viktor said too quickly, the edge in his tone betraying the lie. "It’s simply unprofessional."

"Unprofessional," she repeated, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Right. So, what was all that about ‘she’s not interested,’ then? That didn’t sound so indifferent."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, Renly thought he might snap back. Instead, he turned his attention back to the machine, his shoulders tense.

"Fine," she said gently, relenting. "But next time, just let me handle it."

Viktor’s lips pressed into a thin line, and his silence stretched on longer than she expected. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant.

"I wasn’t… trying to intervene."

Renly blinked. "Could’ve fooled me," she teased, though there was no malice in her tone.

He finally looked up, his expression unreadable but his eyes softer now, as if the tension had ebbed. "Perhaps I was," he admitted, so quietly she barely heard it.

Renly’s smile faded, replaced by something gentler. "Thank you," she said softly.

Viktor gave a faint nod, his attention drifting back to his work. But the way his fingers moved, slower and more deliberate, suggested he was less absorbed in the task than he appeared to be.

“Are you going to chase away every man that approaches me from now on, or only those you don’t like?” Renly tried to test Viktor a little more.

“That’s a… difficult question. And it would be a futile practise, as the number of men I like is very low.”

Renly’s ego was tickled enough by her young admirer, so she decided she is ready to be humbled by Viktor. She folded her arms, leaning back slightly, her tone half-teasing. "Alright, Viktor. Let’s start with an easy question then. What drives a man like you—curiosity or conviction?"

The edge of Viktor’s lips curled upward in a near-smile, though his gaze stayed thoughtful. "An easy question, you say? You begin with a false dichotomy, expecting me to commit to one truth while dismissing the other. Is it not possible to be convicted by curiosity itself?"

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head as though examining him under a microscope. "So, conviction born of curiosity. That's convenient. But where does it stop, hm? At what point does pursuit cross the line into obsession?"

"Obsession, you think?" Viktor countered, his tone gaining a playful sharpness. "Perhaps it is simply dedication mistaken for obsession by those with lesser stamina for inquiry." He paused, his gaze meeting hers with quiet intensity. "I wonder, Renly, how would you define the difference? Or would you prefer to leave such questions unanswered, for fear of what they might reveal?"

Renly’s laugh came quick and light, though her eyes flickered with thought. "That sounds like something someone on the edge of obsession would say."

"Then you would know me better than I thought," Viktor replied, the barest flicker of amusement touching his words. "But tell me, what edges do you tread on in your work? Or are you content to stay safely within the boundaries?"

She leaned forward slightly, her smile equal parts challenge and intrigue. "Boundaries are subjective. I'd argue it depends on who’s watching—and whether they understand the lines in the first place. You, of all people, should appreciate that."

For a moment, Viktor said nothing, simply studying her. Something in her expression—the sharpness of her wit, the unflinching confidence—stirred an uninvited flicker of admiration. He cleared his throat, deciding to ground himself in the debate. "Then we are both trespassers, by your definition. Or would you deny me that camaraderie?"

Renly's grin widened, and she tilted her head. "You? A trespasser? Never. But if you’re offering camaraderie, who am I to refuse?"

The words hung between them, the air alive with the friction of intellect and something unspoken beneath it. Neither looked away, each silently daring the other to make the next move.

Renly broke the gaze first, though it felt more like a retreat to gather ammunition than a concession. Her fingers traced the edge of the workbench idly, an outlet for the quiet energy buzzing between them. "Camaraderie only works when both parties trust each other, you know. Do you trust me, Viktor?"

Viktor's brow lifted ever so slightly; his expression unreadable. "Trust is a peculiar thing, isn't it? It is granted freely to those who least deserve it and withheld from those who do."

"Sounds like a very Viktor way of saying 'no,'" Renly quipped, though her voice had a softer edge to it now.

"Perhaps," he allowed, his tone carefully measured. "But consider—trust is not the foundation of progress. Scepticism is. It sharpens the mind, ensures the work holds under scrutiny."

"So you're saying progress is worth more than trust?" She arched a brow, daring him to commit to his own argument.

Viktor hesitated, his fingers tapping the head of his cane in thought. His inner voice chimed in, slightly annoyed at the vulnerability her question exposed. She’s clever, sharper than most—but that sharpness is double-edged. Finally, he answered, "I am saying they are not mutually exclusive. But trust without merit is a dangerous luxury. Wouldn't you agree?"

Renly leaned back again, her arms crossing, and her lips quirked upward as though savouring her next move. "I might, if I hadn't spent all this time proving myself to you. Are you saying all that effort was wasted?"

The question struck deeper than he expected, though her tone was light. He realized, uncomfortably, that he did trust her in ways he rarely trusted anyone. Not entirely, not yet—but enough to let her slip past certain defences he usually kept up. That thought alone made him wary. "I suspect you are very aware of your abilities, Renly. One might even call you... persuasive."

Her laugh was immediate, bright and genuine. "That's the most backhanded compliment I think I've ever received. I’ll take it.",

"You should," Viktor replied dryly, though there was a faint glint in his eye. "After all, you seem to thrive on recognition."

"Who doesn’t?" she shot back. "Even you, with your grand speeches about scepticism, you can't tell me you don't enjoy hearing Jayce talk you up to anyone who’ll listen."

His lips twitched, but he didn’t confirm or deny. Instead, he looked at her, truly looked, as if trying to find the angle she wasn’t showing. Her confidence was real, but so was the curiosity burning beneath it, matching his own in intensity if not in focus.

"I think," he said slowly, deliberately, "you are more ambitious than you let on."

"And I think you're deflecting," she shot back, smirking.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I am... curious."

The echo of his earlier words lingered in the air between them, this time carrying an undercurrent of something neither dared name. Renly tilted her head, her smirk softening into a quieter smile.

"Then it seems," she said, her voice quieter now, "we both have a lot to learn about each other."

Viktor inclined his head slightly, his gaze steady. "A mutual experiment, then. I imagine it will be... enlightening."

Renly's laugh was softer this time, and she shook her head as she turned back to her work. But her heart, traitorous thing that it was, drummed a little faster in her chest. Whether it was from his words or the way he watched her, she wasn't sure. She decided not to think too much about it. For now.

***

The acrid smell of burnt chemicals filled the lab as Renly muttered a curse under her breath, waving away the thin plume of smoke rising from her workstation. The concoction in the flask had thickened far too quickly, bubbling into a viscous, tar-like mess.

"Wrong proportions," Viktor observed, his voice calm as he approached. Despite the tension that had hung between them for days, he leaned over her shoulder with no hesitation, studying the failed experiment with practiced ease.

"Thanks for the insight," Renly shot back, trying to keep the bite out of her tone.

Instead of rising to it, Viktor merely smiled faintly. "Viscosity," he teased, echoing an earlier joke that had become an inside reference between them. "I told you. Proper fluid dynamics are crucial."

She glanced at him, momentarily disarmed by the faint amusement in his eyes. "Alright, professor. Where did you learn so much about chemistry anyway? I thought you were more gears and circuits."

Viktor straightened, his expression turning thoughtful. "There was a man," he began, his voice measured, as though weighing how much to say. "A tutor of sorts. Back when I lived in Zaun."

Her curiosity piqued, she set the ruined experiment aside. "What kind of tutor?"

"A chemist. An inventor. You yourself have called him an ‘evil wizard’," Viktor said, a faint smile touching his lips. "His name was Singed. He… taught me much. He kept my mind alive when my body could not follow."

Renly stiffened at the name. Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering across her face before it gave way to something sharper—disdain. "Singed," she repeated, her tone flattening. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes narrowed, her gaze distant as if recalling stories she wished she could forget. "The madman who experimented on everything he could fathom? That Singed?"

Viktor’s faint smile froze, then faded completely. The familiar pang of defensiveness flared in his chest, like a shield hastily raised to deflect an oncoming blow.

"He was more than that," Viktor said, his voice quieter now, but firm.

Renly’s expression hardened further, her disbelief etched into the set of her jaw and the tight line of her mouth. "More than that?" she echoed, her voice rising slightly, incredulous. "Viktor, he’s a monster. He—"

"Stop." The sharpness in Viktor's voice cut her off. She blinked, startled by the sudden steel in his gaze.

"I know what he has done," Viktor continued, his tone low and clipped. "I am not blind to his actions. But you do not understand what he was to me. He was the only one who saw potential in a crippled boy who could barely walk across the room. The only one who taught me to think, to question, to create."

Renly hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. "I didn’t mean to—"

"You did," Viktor interrupted, his grip tightening on his cane. "It is easy to condemn when you have never been desperate. When you have never had to take scraps of kindness from people you might despise, because no one else would bother."

Her stomach twisted with guilt, and she opened her mouth to argue—but what could she say? He was right. For all her hardships, she had never been utterly alone. She had grown up healthy, with parents who cared for her, in a community that taught her to read and write. She had lost much, but Viktor had started with nothing.

"You think I admired him because I approved of his methods?" Viktor asked, his voice softer now but no less intense. "I admired him because he gave me the tools to escape the Undercity. To stand here, today, as your equal."

The words struck her like a blow. "Viktor," she said quietly, regret threading through her tone. "I wasn’t trying to belittle you, or your choices. I just—"

"You spoke without thinking," he finished for her. His tone was not unkind, but there was a weariness to it that stung more than anger. "It is fine, Renly. I hold no resentment."

But the way he turned back to his workstation, his shoulders taut, told her otherwise.

She swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling heavily in her chest. "It’s not fine," she said, almost to herself.

Viktor didn’t look at her. "Let us not dwell on it."

But the words felt hollow, even to him. His grip on the edge of the workbench tightened, his knuckles whitening as he struggled to suppress the knot twisting in his chest. Why did her words cut so deeply? He had always known the world’s judgment of Singed—of Zaun, of him—but hearing it from Renly stung in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

Her condemnation echoed in his mind, louder than it had any right to. Monster. He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing his expression to remain neutral, but the resentment stirred beneath the surface. How easy it was for her to dismiss, to condemn from a place of safety—of relative privilege.

You do not know what it is like to have no choices, he thought bitterly. To rip the opportunities out from wherever you can find them, even if it comes from a broken hand.

And yet, a part of him recoiled at the anger surging within him, ashamed of how quickly it had come. This was Renly. She hadn’t meant to hurt him—he knew that. But knowing didn’t dull the sting. It only made him feel more foolish for letting her words affect him so deeply.

He inhaled slowly, forcing the air into his lungs as he tried to steady himself. “It does not matter,” he murmured, as much to himself as to her. But it did matter, and she had seen the way his shoulders tensed, the flicker of something raw in his usually composed expression.

The finality in his voice left no room for argument. Renly bit her lip, frustration bubbling beneath her guilt. He was letting her off the hook, but the unspoken tension between them remained, a chasm that she didn’t know how to bridge.

The lab fell silent again, but this time the quiet was heavy, uncomfortable. Renly glanced at Viktor, his face unreadable as he worked, and she wondered how much of himself he kept hidden from her—and why she had never noticed before. She turned the radio on, as quietly as the dial would allow, and started humming in the hope of making herself feel slightly less small.

***

Renly sat on the edge of her bed, running her fingers through her hair, trying to shake the tension from her shoulders. This day was hard.

She reached for her bag, intending to grab a notebook, but as she moved it, a crumpled piece of paper fell out. She picked it up, her heart sinking as she unfolded it. The words VISCOCITY!!! were scribbled in Viktor’s familiar handwriting, sharp and urgent.

Her fingers lingered on the page, and for a brief moment, she closed her eyes, her mind flashing back to their earlier argument. How could I have said that? she thought, guilt gnawing at her. She could almost hear Viktor’s voice, the tension in his words when he’d defended Singed. She never meant to hurt him, but the words had come out before she could think, and now, as she held his note, she realized just how little she knew about his past.

*

Viktor stood in his cramped apartment, absentmindedly turning the gears of a mechanical ship he’d built as a child. The one that lured him down Signed’s cave. An evil wizard.

He stared at the small ship, its intricate design almost mocking him. Singed loved this, Viktor thought. A sharp pang of anger swept through him. Renly’s condemnation echoed in his mind. How dare she judge him; how dare she think she understood what it was like to be trapped with no one to turn to?

Viktor’s hand clenched around the ship’s hull. What was it that Renly had said? “The madman who experimented on everything he could fathom? That Singed?” Her words cut through him like knives, pulling him into a memory that was better left forgotten. Same day they talked about trust.

He wondered, for a fleeting moment, what it would’ve been like if he and Renly had met as children. Would they have gotten along? Would she have condemned him then too, or would she have seen the same potential in him that Singed had?

He looked down at the mechanical ship, the twisting gears a perfect reflection of his own life—complex, unfinished, and always shifting. Would they ever truly understand each other? Or would he always be locked in a cycle of missteps, of words unsaid, and of pieces of his past that could never be erased?

*

The viscosity note still clutched in her fingers; Renly tossed it back into her bag with a sigh. She stood up and walked to the window, staring out into the dimly lit streets of Piltover. She could hear the muffled hum of the city outside, but all she could think about was Viktor. How could I have been so careless? she thought, watching a pair of figures in the distance, their silhouettes barely visible in the haze.

She wondered what he was doing right now, if he was thinking about her, or if he had already moved on. He had so many layers, so many walls, and just when she thought she was close to understanding him, he pulled away again. Debatable before, in this moment absolutely certain—Viktor definitely didn’t trust her.

Still, she couldn't shake the pull she felt when he was around. The tension, the way his presence seemed to seep into every part of her, had been growing for weeks. And now, despite their argument, she wanted to reach out, to apologize, to explain that she hadn’t meant to hurt him. But how could she when she didn’t even understand him?

*

Viktor placed the mechanical ship down on the table, the soft click of the metal pieces coming together echoing in the stillness of the room. His mind drifted again to Renly, and the thought of her softened his harsh thoughts. She doesn’t understand, he admitted to himself, his chest tightening. Maybe I don’t need her to.

He couldn’t deny that her words had hurt, but he also understood the instinct behind them—she was trying to protect herself, trying to understand him. It’s not her fault, he thought, his hand hovering over the ship again. It’s mine. I’ve never made it easy for her.

He let out a slow breath. Maybe they would get along as children, Viktor mused. But that was a different time, and he was a different person now. The weight of his decisions, his past, hung heavily on him. He had grown, he had learned, but some parts of him would always be chained to that place, to those choices.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. Maybe she’ll understand one day, he thought. But for now, the silence between them was all that remained, and it was maddening.

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

a/n: midway through writing this, i realized it got too romantic, and then i changed my writing music and it suddenly all became clear looool here's your smut (even though i initially thought this fic was going to be way smuttier)

part 15: the king and his queen

word count: 2,831 tag: @bruhidkjustwannaread | @rubyxx16 | @immyowndefender

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Tommy sat in the office of the Garrison, cigarette in hand, staring at the reports spread across his desk. His expression was unreadable, but the sharp set of his jaw betrayed his tension. The fire at your bookshop had been days ago, but the fallout lingered like smoke in the air, thick and suffocating.

The door creaked open, and Arthur, John, Finn, and Michael filed in, their faces unusually grim. Arthur carried a small red notebook and what looked like a charred photo in his hand.

Tommy barely glanced up. “How bad was it?”

“There wasn't much we could do, Tom,” John said, his tone unusually subdued. "There were some books in the back that were saved, but the structure is lost."

Tommy’s eyes flicked to him, narrowing. “What else?”

Arthur stepped forward, dropping the photo and notebook onto Tommy’s desk. “Thought we might find somethin’ useful, but a lot of it was gone.” He hesitated, his usual bravado replaced with an uneasy edge. “Found this instead.”

Tommy reached for the photo first. It was warped at the edges from the fire, but the image was clear enough. He studied the man's features. Photographs usually told so little, but from this small glimpse of a face from your life—one he assumed had not resurfaced since your time in Birmingham—he found himself retreat. His usual firm hold on his emotions faltered at the sight of a man who could have meant so much to you.

Finn, standing off to the side, muttered, “Guessin’ that’s someone she cared about.”

Michael crossed his arms. “We found it in her desk. Buried under a pile of papers—like she didn’t want to see it but couldn’t bring herself to throw it away.”

Tommy turned the photo over, finding a date and a name scrawled in your handwriting: Ezra—1919.

“What else?” Tommy asked, his voice calm but commanding.

Arthur put his hand on the red notebook and slid it forward. "Haven't opened it yet, but it's hers."

Tommy ran his fingers over the leather. The temptation to pry it open and dive deeper into your thoughts coursed through his arm, but he resisted. He placed his hand down firmly on the journal with a heavy sigh. The last time he pried into your life, you met him head on. Unlike then, you wouldn't have expected anyone, let alone him, to see into the very depths of your soul. He didn't know why, but the thought unsettled him. He wondered when it had become such a priority to consider your privacy as something of importance.

Michael leaned forward, his voice sharp. “Should we try to find him?”

John tapped the photo. “Whoever he is, he meant something to her. For all we know, he's the cause of all this. Maybe he's involved.”

Tommy stared at the picture again, his mind working like clockwork. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s the reason she’s running.”

Finn frowned. “Think he’s dead?”

Tommy didn’t answer right away. His eyes lingered on the man—Ezra's face until the features had solidified in his mind. He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, standing up and pocketing the photo. “I’ll talk to her.”

Arthur scoffed. “And if she doesn’t tell you?”

“She will." Tommy’s eyes were cold as steel. "In time. Don't tell her what you found. She's still healing.”

As the others filed out, Tommy stayed behind, his hand brushing over the photograph in his pocket. Whoever Ezra had been, whatever happened to him, Tommy knew it held the key to understanding your past. And perhaps, at last, everything would finally unravel.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The early evening light filtered through the tall windows of Arrow House, bathing the room in a golden glow. You sat in a plush armchair near the fire, a book balanced on your lap, though you hadn’t turned a page in some time. Your wounds had closed, and what remained was the budding presence of scars, ones that wouldn't soon fade. The physical wounds may have mended, but the ache beneath the surface lingered, more persistent than you wanted to admit.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Tommy always walked with a deliberate purpose, a rhythm you’d come to recognize.

“Come to regale me with another story of a good day at the race?” you said without looking up, your voice tinged with dry amusement.

“Not today,” he replied, stepping into the room. “If those stories don't interest you, I will tell Arthur to stop.”

You chuckled, just loud enough for him to hear. “If that is what enthuses Arthur, then who am I to stop him? Better than him trying to watch me like an injured bird trying to take flight.”

Tommy moved to stand near the mantle, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as they studied you. The photograph of Ezra still lay safely in his pocket. He continuously tucked it away, convincing himself that now wasn't the right time to ask you. Eventually, it became routine to slip it back into his pocket in the hopes that it was finally time. His fingers toyed with its edges, the presence of your past trying to escape into the open.

But he couldn't. As the days past, you looked more and more at peace. You'd settled into a new routine. Finn brought books back to Arrow House, and while none of them knew what it actually was that you liked to read, they all started to recognize your true glimpses at contentment. Whether it was a book or a conversation that had no hint of duplicity, there was a part of you that was perfectly capable of what some considered to be a normal life. The possibility of shattering this and bringing you back into his world weighed heavier on his shoulders than he would have ever imagined.

Eventually, you grew used to his presence. You sighed from your place by the fire, gently massaging your shoulder. With one hand, you unbuttoned the first few inches of your shirt and eased the collar down to reach the ache. Tommy's eyes drifted to the newborn scar, but then his gaze wandered to your chest. Your breaths were soft and steady, a tempo that matched the ticking of the clock behind him.

“You're healing well." He broke the silence. Your eyes flickered up to him with a soft smile in acknowledgement.

“Like I said before,” you replied, closing the book and setting it aside. “I do not control how a body heals, even less so, my own.”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. With the slightest movement of your shoulder, Tommy found himself staring at the scar again, and, as if it were a reflex, he reached for his own. Now a part of his chest, he realized it was just like yours. Tommy’s eyes lingered on your face, searching for something beneath your composed exterior. You tilted your head to the side, eyes fluttering shut with a melodic hum.

No—not now. He couldn't ask you about Ezra now. This moment was so fleeting, and the second he asked, it would be gone forever. If only for today, he wanted to savor this—you both peacefully existing in the same room without any threats from the outside. It was a selfish decision, and he readily accepted that it was his own.

Tommy didn't know what he was doing when he approached you and reached for the scar, but as if sensing this was a gesture of curiosity, you let him. His fingers were warm and almost soothing as they ran over the fresh patch of skin like he was studying it.

For the briefest second, you tensed, your hand brushing absently over your side where the second wound lay tucked away. Tommy quietly retreated, but before he could step back, you grabbed his wrist and stood.

You let out a heavy breath, eyes shutting again in thought. Still holding his arm, you guided his hand to the buttons that were still clasped and nodded.

"You were a gentleman then," you nodded, mostly to yourself. "Telling Arthur and John to leave. I already felt... Exposed. Naked—just from the wounds alone and being seen like that. But, still, you told them to leave, so it wouldn't be so bad. Don't think I didn't notice, Tommy."

Tommy's fingers stayed on the top button like he was still processing if the gesture was an act of repayment or the giving of permission.

"If you need to see it for peace of mind, then you can," you whispered. The usual confidence in your tone dampened into a soft pitch.

He told himself he was doing this because he needed to see if you were telling the truth—that the wound had actually closed and was now just another scar. In reality, he didn't know his intentions. It could still have been a need, but it was one with weak conviction.

Tommy undid the rest of your shirt and parted it just enough to see the second scar. Your arms stayed relaxed at your sides, your face still but forlorn, as he touched the wound gently enough to make you shiver. He pressed the palm of his hand against your waist, firm and steadying.

He stepped closer, and your lungs filled with the scent that had accompanied you to dreams for many nights, always by your side. Tommy looked down at your as if he was silently seeking permission. Though, in truth, he didn't know what he was asking for.

As if seeing the war raging in his head, you reached for his neck and pulled him towards you. You rested your lips against his with a sigh—at last, feeling what you denied yourself weeks ago. Just a taste of him was enough, you told yourself. Just one.

Unlike then, he didn't move with urgency. He simply waited for you to make the decision. If it was just a kiss, then that's all it was. For once, he accepted this was out of his control.

You pulled back, eyes bearing into his with a seriousness one only experienced in the face of a choice that would not soon be presented again—or at all.

"Listen to me, Thomas Shelby," you whispered. Your stare commanded his to never tear away from yours as you spoke, insisting without words to hear you clearly because you wouldn't repeat yourself again. "I am not something to be won because I am earned."

Tommy's breath flitted across your skin as you spoke, and in your words, you showed him that your guard could go up at any moment. But for the moment, you were letting him acknowledge the mask of pain and power, one that only you possessed and chose to grace him with. The burden of understanding you wasn't not something easily given.

"If I give myself to you, I'm never taking any of it back." You spoke so firmly, the weight of your words forcing him to listen. "And if you give yourself to me, I am never letting you go."

He told you once that your purpose of being here would come out whether you dared to say it out loud or not. While you couldn't bring yourself to say this gently, you said it regardless.

"Every mistake you've ever made until now means nothing to me. But if this is a mistake—one you will come to regret, then tell me now. Tell me what you want." Your grip on his neck intensified with the slight twitch of your fingers. "That's why I'm here. That's why I made my choice. It scares you to crave, but it terrifies you to need. If you tell me now that I am a passing craving, then you've proved a point—that this was just business. But if you need me, all I want is for you to say it. And mean it."

It wasn't a threat. This was a declaration of self-preservation over the fantasy of possibilities.

For a moment, Tommy stayed silent.

He'd loved before, loved countless times to the point where it all might have been meaningless—just fleeting moments where he felt love, but it never lingered. And now, with your intentions finally out in the open, he understood. Your goal was to force him to experience it all—the pain and the loss. To be loved and respected. To choose to be alone no longer, and to understand what it meant to choose someone because he needed them and not because he wanted them for the moment.

You wanted him to face the inevitable—that loving someone wasn't a choice. But to love someone who was truly good for him, who didn't just love the idea of what he could be—that was a choice.

And he made his decision.

Tommy gripped your waist, sliding your shirt over your shoulders until it fell to the floor around your ankles. With a solitary sigh, he kissed you again, still as gentle as the first.

"I need you."

The words rang in your ears like an autumn breeze numbing summer's heat. And all at once, his lips found you again. His touch was tender, methodically moving in a way that still treated you as fragile beneath his fingertips. He carried you to the bed, his lips trailing down your neck, peppering you with kisses until all you felt was the need he'd suppressed for so long.

You sat up, taking his face in your hands. His eyes searched yours for permission, and with the soft nod of your head, his hands wandered your body, discovering and adventuring across your skin. He slipped his shirt off, and your eyes landed on the scar on his chest.

You reached for it, seeing in a different way how similar you both were. This was not an attempt to put the other back together, but a way to hold the broken pieces to the light and admire the sunlight between the cracks. To love the other earnestly and honestly, and to hope in desperation and the fear of never loving again.

Tommy watched you as you straddled him. You eased him into you with a long drawn out sigh, pressing your forehead against his. With one hand, he steadied your waist, guiding you as your hips moved, and with the other, he held your cheek with the gentle stroke of his thumb.

He sighed against your neck, groaning every time he slid inside you, the full length of him feeling the warmth of your walls. He admired you as you grinded into him, the last of your defenses crumbling down at his touch. There was no more need for words. Tommy let you take him in whatever way you desired. He didn't care if you were using him for your own pleasure. All that mattered was that you accepted his need, reciprocated with your own carnal desire to claim him.

Slowly, the mood changed. Your eyes darkened as it suddenly settled in that, together, this was something new. It wasn't just romance. It was the molding of the power you both held. Others only alluded that together, you and Tommy could set the world on fire—if that was what you desired. He held the match, and you soaked it with gasoline. At your command, he would set the world ablaze and build you a throne from the ashes and debris.

Tommy laid you back down on the bed and lowered himself in between your legs. He gripped your thighs, taking pleasure in how you writhed from the motions of his tongue. He hummed against your core, his mouth moving with an urgency that mimicked his need and hunger. You threw your head back with a gasp as his tongue plunged deep inside you, curling and pulling you against his face.

He pulled you closer, lapping up the dampness dripping down his chin. You gripped his hair, urging him to keep going until you felt that tug in the pit of your stomach. Your legs clenched, and with a guttural moan, you came until you twisted onto your stomach, riding the high as you spilled out onto the bed. Tommy positioned himself above you and slid back into your pulsing core. He eased himself inside you, taking a hold of your chest and holding you against him. He panted against your neck, his tongue dragging against your skin like no amount of your taste was enough. With a final thrust, he collapsed, his hips still grinding against you to draw out the ecstasy.

You panted, keeping a firm grip on the sheets until he was gentle once more. He kissed your shoulder with a sigh. Tommy's lips curled into a knowing grin, and you met his expression with equal satisfaction.

The game has changed with an entirely new board. The King has his Queen, and it was only a matter of time before the world would feel the ground rumble beneath their feet.

[ofgrenvde]

closed starter @akashxbedi - akash bedi

Ezra strode through the courthouse lobby, case files from the Golden Lotus's latest security audit tucked under his arm. The Zhao family needed these depositions filed before their casino's quarterly review, and he'd rather handle sensitive documents personally than trust a courier. Five steps into the building, he spotted Akash Bedi by the information desk. That snake had defended half the corrupt Chicago cops who'd torn Ezra's informant network apart, yet here he stood in Devil's Junction, probably still getting rich off others' misery. "If it isn't Chicago's favorite puppet. Still defending murderers for a living, Bedi? Or did you finally grow a conscience in Devil's Junction?" He kept his voice steady, professional despite the rage churning inside him. Each dead informant's face flashed through his mind and the man before him had a hand in their demise—indirectly or not. "Must be nice, sleeping at night after helping killers walk free. Tell me, do you charge extra for covering up police executions, or is that just a complementary service?" His expression remained neutral, but his words dripped acid. Some people never changed, and Bedi was living proof that a Harvard law degree couldn't buy morality.

[stars-n-spice]

Thoughts on S3 Ep09!

Went to Universal last week on Wednesday so I missed watching it this week, couldn't watch it until today and oh my god,,,

Ignorance really is bliss <3

It's slowly getting harder and harder to bring myself to watch the new episodes ahaha

Anyways, spoilers and my incoherent screaming under the cut!!!

So I was like a puddle on the floor the entire episode

Ventress spoke and I melted,,

I love her so much I'm so glad she's back and I hope she comes back PRETTY PLEASE

SO M COUNT WAS MIDICHLORIANS!!! I mean,, that much was obvious but we're one step closer to having answers!

Wrecker and Crosshair helping out the Pabu civilians :(

Also noticed how fucking,, big Wrecker looks compared to Crosshair,, aahhhhhaaaaa big,, big man, big guy,,

Crosshair being like, "We aren't going to hand her over" AAAAA he really is worse than Hunter,, fucking love him

Ventress just,, being able to find them so easily and get onto Pabu without anyone noticing makes me,, so nervous,, oh my god

WRECKER FOLDING HIS ARMS ACROSS HIS CHEST AFTER SEEING HUNTER AND CROSSHAIR HOLDING THE SAME POSE?!?!

WRECKER STEPPING UP AND PUTTING HIS HANDS ON OMEGA'S SHOULDERS WHEN VENTRESS MENTIONS FORCE WEILDING?!?

Wrecker just,, fucking doing ANYTHING?? I love him

Ventress is actually really tall-

tall,, tall woman

AND HER GAY ASS HAIRCUT OH MY GOD

"Clearly none of you are normal" LMAOOO

I was like,, "hey why don't they recognize her?? they were fighting in the same war???" and then Crosshair was like "I went through Tech's files" or whatever and :(((

Tech mention :((( I miss him more and more everyday

CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT FIGHT SCENE?!?!?!

HOLY SHIT!!!!!

want that fight scene injected into my blood

SHE SLAPPED WRECKER?!?!

she kicked their asses oh my god

fuck I loved that

Meanwhile Omega's on a scavenger hunt

I felt like I was watching Karate Kid

Omega not knowing who/what she is :(( and wanting to figure it out and have answers :( MAN.

WRECKER CHEERING ON OMEGA WHILE SHE WAS TRAINING!! it was so sweet but also hilarious because it made me think of how Chopper and Zeb would MAKE FUN of Ezra while he was training (I love my space families)

Omega trying to convince them to trust Asajj,, fucking,, "I never gave up on you, didn't I?" SHUT THE FUCK UP :(((((

With every episode I love Crosshair more and more and it's fucking DAMNING as all hell because I will not be able to handle anything remotely bad happening to him at this point

fuckin,, something,,, about,,, Hunter,, on his back,,, legs spread with the,, lightsaber in his face,,, fuck,, fuck fuck

I'M TELLING YOU MAN I WAS A PUDDLE ON THE FLOOR THE ENTIRE EPISODE

WE MAYBE DIDN'T GET WET HAIR HUNTER BUT WE GOT WET HAIR ASAJJ AND I THINK THAT'S OBJECTIVELY BETTER!!!

Omega is just collecting like,, mentors/parents like Ezra,, I fucking love it,, she comes across adults who are like,, "fuck it. I'm adopting this kid" and Hunter's like "NO!"

Omega is just a teenager I love her so much - "Ventress is bad." - "Okay, but-"

WHY IS THERE ALWAYS A BIG MONSTER?!?!?!

RAAAAAAAH SO SHE IS FORCE SENSITIVE?!

look,, I feel like,, that training wasn't nearly enough to determine the right levels and honestly I'm still confused

ASAJJ YOU BETTER COME BACK

I was like begging for her to stay because I know shit is going to go down on Pabu and they could use her help :(

but also I'm selfish and want to see her more

"But I've got a few lives left" - RAAAAAAAHHH

Also Crosshair helping Omega and Asajj up onto the Maurader :((

I love Crosshair :((

The last two episodes have been relatively,,, calm? Like the calm before the storm and that makes me fucking TERRIFIED for this week's episode oh my god

[zalrb]

PLL 2x17 Review - As Per Anon Request

Needed a little break but I'm back.

My IG kept showing me clips of Ali being mean to Hanna. It always knows what I'm watching.

"Shutting you out is killing me." WHY?

"Now that we know that it wasn't Lucas", you all need to be stopped, I swear.

"He passed out. A six pack and some weed will do that to you." Oh the 2010s, when we treated weed like it was crack.

"They were in her bedroom the night she was murdered." Okay. But that doesn't actually PROVE anything.

From what year did they get Dean, sorry, Toby's truck.

Emily can't even say that Spencer is in the shower? Girl, you ARE the weakest link. With your trying-to-emote face.

I like how when a boy respects boundaries on TV land it means he's gay.

Caleb's hair isn't giving Damon today, it's giving Emo Jeremy

and Emo Jeremy was somehow better. Jesus Christ.

Emily's eyebrows are eyebrowing a lot this episode.

Did they just stuff a pillow under Hanna's shirt for the flashbacks or what.

"Ali, someone trashed your porch." We can see that.

Lol, Hanna is going to end up standing Mona up.

Is Jenna going to appear from the bathroom stall, all creepy and shit?

Yes.

Toby has a near-death accident before Aria does. Is she even a Liar?

Wren is the only doctor in this hospital.

"Don't talk about her. Don't mention her." In the flattest fucking voice.

"Whatever you imagined is not nearly as bad as it really is." Hanna, why would you say that.

"Hey, I can protect you."

"I can protect you" with that little step. oh my god, this show does not know how to build a ship. he's not even touching her.

where is the

*throws up hands*

Even their arguing here. "What the hell, I spent hours on that!" It should really be about how she's in danger and he doesn't like it, he doesn't like her snooping around something that can get her hurt, not just anger that he doesn't know what's going on. Because here, he just looks like an asshole.

Jenna, why are you a grown ass woman?

See, and this whole Emily telling Toby about Wren thing, if you're going to go there then go there, let Toby see her kiss Wren (obviously he shouldn't be kissing her, she's a minor), like Liz was committed, man, she pretended to have sex with Kyle,

made sure Max saw her in bed with him

because she had to do something to make him stop pursuing her even though she didn't want to,

and it was devastating.

This show is not serious.

OH dear GOD, is this the rain kiss?

Leave it up to Ezra to let a student who's probably 18 inspire him to be a predator with his 16 year old girlfriend because of a story written in an intro to creative writing class or whatever he teaches.

He is a serial killer

Can we get to the rain kiss already? This is long.

"I'm just saying, I may have broken my left arm but my right arm is fine" oooooooh badass Toby.

She didn't ditch Mona!

Who is Jenna talking to?

How long have you been sitting there Aria?

L M A O. The way he says "Aria?" in that tone is SO funny. If there was a mood, his voice ruined it.

What an underwhelming rain kiss. I'm sorry but rain kisses, like IN the rain have to be done in a certain way so as to not call attention to the fact that it's only being done for the aesthetic. I swear to GOD, Scira just owns TV rain kisses.

no one surpasses them (and YES that includes Naley)

*rolls eyes* OBVIOUSLY it was important, that's why I kept a copy of the files. Caleb, you're such a passive asshole.

Considering that Spencer and Hanna are the best actresses out of the four of them, their showdown over Spencer lying to her and jeopardizing Caleb's life should be good. Like, good for this show.

Oh no. Toby left. That's soooooo sad.

[zia-zee-bee]

Walking Home

CW: kidnapping, hypnosis

“I’m just saying, Mr. Lyles has no concept of the subject he’s supposed to be teaching,” Ezra says with a large wave on the air. Eden just snorts, her thumbs under her backpack straps. “If we’re supposed to pass this exam, we need to actually be taught the material! This is the third time he’s ranted about how his wife hates him, no one cares!”

“Well, to be far the other students are feeding into his delusions,” Eden points out, her dark eyebrows raised. “If I hear Connor or David talk about how they totally understand what Mr. Lyles is going through one more time I’ll throw up. I’m so serious.”

Ezra huffs a laugh, and bumps his shoulder with his twin’s. “At least we know they’ll fail for sure,” He says. “But we might get good scores.”

“I miss busy work, those are always easy A’s for me,” Eden mutters, reaching a hand to adjust one of her hair buns. “Our books are good sources, right? So if we study using only those we’ll be fine.”

They turn a corner and Ezra pulls out his phone. “Dad says I need to get by four if I want to do an internship today,” He notes drily.

Eden checks the time over his shoulder. “We have plenty of time,” She replies with a warm smile. “Just don’t destroy another file of work and Dad will keep letting you in his company.”

Ezra lets out a betrayed squawk of indignation. “It was one time like, a year ago!” He exclaims, throwing his arms up. Eden giggles and he slaps her shoulders, pouting playfully at himself. “I should push you into running traffic.”

“But you’d die too,” Eden says with a grin, earning a confused look from her brother. She makes witch fingers at him. “Twin magic works again, Ezzy!”

Ezra rolls his eyes, then catches sight of something over Eden’s shoulder. He frowns in suspicion, before blinking as surprise barely has time to filter across his face, and soon his eyes are flutter. He staggers, causing Eden to start asking if her was okay, before the boy collapses against the sidewalk. Eden screams, kneeling down next to him and shaking his shoulder.

“Ezra? Ezra, wake up!” Eden cries out, opening her phone and scrolling through his contacts. “Don’t worry, I’m going to call someone!”

She called their mom, and it immediately went to voicemail. But before she could hang up and try again, someone spoke right in her ear. “Drop the phone.” And she did. It clattered to the ground, Eden frozen in a kneeling position with her arm still out like she was holding it, her eyes wide and staring in the distance, mouth agape.

A girl her age sat in front of her, grinning sharp teeth. “Who are you?” Eden questions, her voice shaky. She couldn’t move her body.

“Your new favorite person,” The girl coos, still grinning, moving to grab Ezra by his arm.

“No! Don’t touch him!” Eden cries out, lunging forward and pushing the girl away, shielding her brother’s body with hers. A car drove by, making Eden grit her teeth, eyes wide with fear.

The girl cups Eden’s face with both hands, turning her head to look at her. “Don’t fight me,” She murmurs, causing Eden to stifle a gasp as her eyes widened more. “We’re going to go home and you’re going to be my new thrall. How does that sound?”

What the actual fuck is she talking about? Eden thought. “No, who are you?” She exclaims, moving to pull her face from the girl’s hands.

But nails dug into her skin and she froze, the girl’s eyes flashing red. “Relax,” She murmurs, eyes abnormally wide and red. “You want to follow me, and you want to listen to me forever.”

Eden felt her body relax, eyes glazing over. A delirious little smile spreads over her face. “R..right..” She mumbles. “For… forever..”

She giggles sleepily and the girl nods, gently pulling the backpack from Eden’s body. She does the same to Ezra, leaving the two bags on the sidewalk as she grabs Ezra and heaves him over her shoulder using one arm. Then she links her other arm with Eden’s and starts walking into an alleyway, Eden stumbling next to her. “Oh you’ll just love my mansion,” The red-eyed girl gushes, her teeth sharp and eyes glittering. “You’ll have all the toys you’ll ever want, and all the food you’d need.”

“That’s.. ni..nice..” Eden mumbles. Ezra was completely knocked out over the girl’s shoulder, eyes shut and body limp.

“And I’ll get to bathe and dress you up like my own life sized dolls!” The girl continues giddily. “Isn’t that just so nice?” Eden dumbly nods, unsure what she was agreeing too. “My name’s Miss Lara.”

That sends a cold wave over Eden’s body, causing her brow to furrow. But one glance from the ruby eyed girl and a wave of pleasure replaced it, making Eden sigh dazedly. She was sure wherever Miss Lara was bringing them would be amazing.

And if someone started yelling Eden and Ezra’s names from the sidewalk an hour later, finding the abandoned bags and phone, the twins were too far away and far too delirious to hear.

Part 1 >>>

[morriganxshaw]

( Boyd Holbrook, 38, cis-male, he/him ) — Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, you’ll find that LORCAN "MORRIGAN" SHAW is a a GRAVEDIGGER that works in SECTOR 8. According to the file, they’re a mutant with the power of FAIRY PHYSIOLOGY and CURSE MAGIC. That must be why they’re INTROVERTED and TIMID. If you ask me, they remind me of an iron collar digging into soft skin, scuffed red knees, and a bare mattress tucked into a closet. They are affiliated with NOBODY.

UNDER THE CUT: TASK 1

basic information:

character name: Lorcan 'Morrigan' Shaw

nickname (s): Morrigan / Morri

face claim: Boyd Holbrook

mutation status: Gen 2

birthday:

sexuality: gay

moral alignment: coward true neutral

occupation: Grave Digger

work sector: 4

affiliation: Nobody

3 positive traits: Introverted, Sensitive, Submissive.

3 negative traits: Timid, Self Destructive, Needy, Nervous

biography (optional): coming soon

SUMMARY/TL;DR: He's been under daddy shaw's thumb since day one, when he was an unruly teen cursing people, he had a silver necklace welded onto him. His long time childhood girlfriend came out as lesbian, and he a little later came out as gay, and it worked out quite well! Ezra nearly killed his father, and Morrigan was commanded to stay and look after him. So he did. Only when Billie snapped and finished the deed was Morrigan really free. He waited in the old house, though. Lived a quiet lonely life until Billie was free and they decided to follow his eldest brother, Trent, to a settlement far far away. Read Billie's bio for ta more detailed rundown until I write his own bio.

questionnaire

how do they feel about living in sol city? have they always lived there or did they travel from another settlement? It's better than the settlement back in Ireland, but overwhelming in every way. He spent a lot of time locked inside, so the sprawling city is a lot for him to take in.

do they trust the council’s leadership?why or why not? He doesn't know enough, yet. Largely he cowers from authority figures as they never helped him in the past.

if they chose their sector and profession, why did they make that choice? if they didn’t, why not? were they happy with their assignment or not? Morrigan did not choose his assignment. With little by way of skills or experience, he was assigned to grave digging. It's a relatively unpopular choice, so it had free vacancies to fill up.

what’s one object that they always keep on their person? He has an iron necklace (it's a collar.) It's a solid piece of iron, bent and welded around his neck by dear old dad. He can't remove it without help but is too afraid (and embarrassed) to show it to anyone let alone seek help for it's removal. Morrigan is also afraid what it will mean if it is successfully removed and his ability no longer dampened by it.

mutation

what is your character’s ability (or abilities)? Fairy Physiology & Curse Magic

are they gen i or gen ii? Gen 2

what can your character do? what are their strengths? Visually there are very few physical traits that mark his 'fairy physiology'. Mainly it's a change in his anatomy and chemical makeup which lends itself to old faerie lore. He requires less food and sleep to function. He can cast curses on people, they're never long term but can be intense physical and psychological changes to a person or living creature.

what can’t they do? what are their weaknesses? He is weakened by iron and if attempting to (or accidentally) using his curse magic, he will be burnt by it. If anyone knows his real name (Lorcan) and uses it, they can command him to do anything and he cannot resist it. Wording has to be specific, though, as much like a magic lamp intention doesn't matter as much as the literal wording. This also goes for his curses.

misc

is there anything else you’d like to specify about them? Only Trent, Ezra & Billie know his real name. He fills in official documents as 'Morrigan Brogan'. Whilst saying 'Lorcan' is enough to command him, saying 'Shaw' could have a mild effect he can fight off. The power is in his first name.

[partisan-by-default]

The law, known as Senate Bill 4, will continue to be challenged by El Paso County and two immigrant rights groups — Austin-based American Gateways and El Paso-based Las Americas Immigrant Advocacy Center — who are represented by Texas Civil Rights Project lawyers.

In a court filing, the U.S. Department of Justice told U.S. District Judge David Ezra that it is voluntarily dropping its legal challenge.

The Texas Legislature approved the law in 2023, then the Biden administration filed a lawsuit against it. Ezra had blocked the law from going into effect, but Texas appealed. The appeals court sent the case back to Ezra’s court, where it remains pending.

The law would make it a state crime to cross the Texas-Mexico border between ports of entry. If a police officer believes they have evidence that a person illegally crossed the Rio Grande, that person could be charged with a Class B misdemeanor, which carries a punishment of up to six months in jail. For subsequent offenses, the person could be charged with a second-degree felony and face up to 20 years in prison.

If the migrant is convicted and has served their sentence, a judge must order police to transport them to a port of entry for removal from the country. A judge could drop the charges if a migrant agrees to return to Mexico, and police could turn over migrant families to Border Patrol agents to avoid separating children from their parents instead of arresting them.

Immigration advocacy organizations say the law encroaches on the federal government’s sole authority over immigration and will lead to racial profiling by police. When Texas lawmakers proposed the legislation, they argued the state needed to step in because the federal government under President Biden wasn’t doing enough to stop illegal immigration.

[dankusner]

Nate Paul pleads guilty to federal charge

AUSTIN — Real estate investor Nate Paul, whose ties to Attorney General Ken Paxton led to impeachment charges in 2023, pleaded guilty in federal court to one count of making a false statement to a financial institution.

Paul and his attorney appeared before U.S. Magistrate Judge Dustin Howell on Wednesday.

His plea, detailed in a court filing, is subject to final approval and sentencing by Senior U.S. District Judge David Ezra.

Under Paul’s agreement with prosecutors, all other counts will be dropped, and he faces up to six months in prison, according to the Austin-American Statesman.

Howell recommended the district court accept Paul’s plea and enter a final judgment of guilty after reviewing the presentence investigation report, which will be completed in the coming weeks.

Many of the 20 impeachment charges, approved by the House 121-23, accused Paxton of misusing the power of his office to help Paul, whose Austin home and businesses had been raided by federal and state agents.

Paxton, attorney general since 2015, was later acquitted by the Senate in a largely party-line vote after a two-week impeachment trial.

Paul was charged in June 2023 with eight counts of knowingly making false statements on a loan application to a financial institution.

The federal indictment alleged Paul misled lenders in Ireland, New York, Connecticut and Texas between March 2017 and April 2018.

Additional charges in November 2023 accused Paul of conspiracy to commit wire fraud and three counts of wire fraud.

Paul has owned properties across Texas through his primary company, World Class.

He was under FBI scrutiny since at least 2019, when the agency raided his business and home.

Business associates have sued Paul, accusing him of reneging on deals, and he’s lost several high-profile properties to foreclosure and forced sales in recent years.

The FBI began investigating Paxton the following year after officials in Paxton’s office told FBI agents in September 2020 they believed the attorney general had misused his office to help Paul during the federal investigation.

They alleged Paul in return employed a woman with whom Paxton had a personal relationship and paid for a remodeling project at Paxton’s Austin home.

Paul donated $25,000 to Paxton’s reelection campaign in 2018.

[knotfodder]

name: Ezra Ghoshal nicknames: Ez, "farmer boy", pup (by some) dob. age: October 13 (37) gender: Male pronouns: (he/him/his) secondary gender: Alpha occupation: ranch hand species: selkie fc: Rahul Kohli

+protective, loyal, dexterous+ -stoic, impulsive, uncommunicative-

[artemiseamoon]

Preview: Dancer between worlds

Chapter one: the lone wolf

Intro/ prologue & fic info

Words: 3,483

Warnings: missing persons, sexual theme and content

Below is a preview * read in full on A03

Sahali glanced at the clock, then back at the ominous packet. She’s been in her office for about 10 minutes now and didn’t open it up yet.

She didn’t think much of it at first and figured it was just a random vision, but the missing shifters weren’t the only thing she was getting hits about. The vision of a man came exactly 7 days earlier. She was at home, picking a movie to watch after repotting two plants when it came.

As she sat on the couch, an image flashed in her mind and quickly overtook all her senses.

A pair of hands searching a toolbox

The smells of oil and rubber

Music on the radio; "listen to the wind blow, watch the sunrise, run in the shadows"

A man's head from the back, dark wavy hair with strands of gray peppered in, broad shoulders in a worn shirt, a mechanic suit tied at the waist

Under the smells of the shop, a warm scent of wood, and spice, a barely noticeable touch of vanilla - a scent that's been with her for months now

A strangely familiar and comforting voice, one that echoed in the distance of her dreams

When the vision faded, along with the scents and faint sounds, she blinked it away. Maybe it was a random thing? Maybe imprints of someone's life? She learned over the years to sort things and push stuff back, otherwise, she’d go insane. But, she could never really put it, or him, out of her mind.

The second time she saw him in a vision was two days later, in the same shop. He wasn’t alone, he was speaking to a tall blue-eyed man now, there was a familiarity between them, like old friends. Sahali still couldn't see the brunette's face.

Just as the man was about to turn her way, her phone rang, snapping her out of the vision. Since then, there have been a few others, even one with his hand on the steering wheel of an old truck. Each vision teased his face, or his profile, but never revealed the full thing.

“Okay, get it together - “

She made herself focus, but couldn’t ignore his scent, it was back.

Sahali stepped away from the desk briefly to grab a tea then settled in. Opening the packet, she laid everything out on the long table, then pulled up everything Emi sent her on the computer. The moment she scrolled to his file, her jaw dropped. It was the man from the visions.

Sahali moved closer to the screen, then zoomed in on the picture, her eyes moving over every detail of his face. This photo was taken 6 or 7 years ago, so he’d be a little older now. According to his file, he retired 3 and a half years ago, just months before she came on.

She didn’t see the agents often, only when they came by the building. So even if he did work here still, chances were slim for them to meet. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if they could have. She also didn’t have access to the files on agents, so never would have seen his picture before this.

Francisco Morales. Code name Catfish.

Read on A03

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Want more shifter / wolf Pedro characters, check out Queen of Poisons (werewolf Ezra)

[kalluzeb4later]

Writing Kalluzeb Every Day for a Year - Day 15

Idea: (Wing fic)

The mission had gone wrong because of course it had, they usually do, but in fairness it had gone wrong in the usual way so it wasn't really a panic situation at the time.

Team A, Ezra, Kanan, and Sabine, had gone inside to get the what the files the Rebellion needed, while Team B, Kallus, Zeb, and a few other agents, waited outside to act as distraction while The Ghost extracted Team A before circling around to grab Team B.

Team B was spotted before Team A could finish and the shoot out had commenced.

Team B had been pressed back towards a cliff side of a near by canyon that they would have jumped from when their escape had arrived, but without The Ghost en route it was looking more that their future grave than their escape.

Zeb and Kallus were holding the line and providing cover fire while their teammates made for a small and perilous path down the cliff face to try and get some cover.

One shot caught Zeb in the shoulder, hard, knocking him off kilter.

Kallus caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Zeb falling in slow motion over the cliff. There was a half second where it looked like Zeb could regain his balance or at least catch himself with against the cliff with his powerful limbs and lasat dexterity, until Kallus saw the blaster bolt that clipped the side of his head.

Kallus reached out to grab Zeb and pull him back from the fall, but being unconscious he was essentially dead weight and pulled them both over the edge.

They plummeted into the darkness and fell from sight.

Kallus clung onto Zeb's body in the dark, denying that THIS was how they were going to die, wishing so many things had been different, and gratitude that at least they wouldn't see the end coming and it would quick.

During their fall, a stabbing pain erupted in Kallus' back, so much for a painless death, and then something in the wind shifted. There was a harsh pull in his back and the sudden sensation of ... being able to 'cup' the air. He felt Zeb's full wight in his arms and struggled to maintain his hold and not lose him to gravity.

Kallus' couldn't even begin to figure out what was happening and simply leant into his instincts taking over. He had slowed their descent and now had some sort of control of their fall.

It was took dark to see anything along the sides and he hoped that there weren't any stalagmites or pillars of rock to worry about. He looked up to the faint light above the cliff and-

The sensation of "cupping" the wind was almost similar to water, but without the ability to actually push it anywhere. But he felt if he angled the muscles in his back (and how the HELL was THAT a thing) he could 'ride' a current to get them out.

It was a long 'flight', compensating for Zeb's weight but he eventually made it out and landed them on the opposite cliff side from where they fell.

Kallus fumbled as he let Zeb down and tried to check over his body. His movement were awkward, like he had extra limbs he didn't know how to compensate room for, but he managed to check Zeb over. There was a harsh blaster mark along the side of his head, but it didn't look like anything had penetrated. He might have just been stunned, and his pulse was fine.

Thank goodness.

A sudden heaviness came over Kallus. He felt exhausted and strained. His back was the worst of it. He heard scraping along the ground to either side of him and turned to look at the source of the noise and found... wings.

HUGE wings

He turned and the wings turned with him. That was.... no.

He was losing his mind, surely.

His lifted on hand to reach over his shoulder and look at his back as best he could.

There, he could see the curve of the top of the wings curling towards himself.. and into HIS back.

Now that he looked at for himself, the connection of sensation settles in. He could feel the wings like second limbs. He could feel the new muscles as the flexed, shaking now with the sudden strain they had been under and feel the new tendons and ligaments ache with the stretch and pull they hadn't been prepared for.

Slowly he eased the ache and the wings folded inwards towards him.

His neck was straining to look back and so he untwisted and relaxed his body forward as best he could too stunned to really know what to do now.

He turned to see Zeb's wide green eyes were opened and looking at him in shock.

Thank goodness, he's regained consciousness.

Kallus slumped forward and fell into a fugue.

(I have NO explanation for this and don't care. It just happens and it's cool)

[beardedmrbean]

(WGHP) — The actor who plays The Flash in the DC Extended Universe is facing even more legal trouble, now accused of troubling behavior as courts struggle to serve a protective order issued on behalf of concerned parents.

Ezra Miller, 29, who is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns, is accused of a litany of abuses by the parents of Tokata Iron Eyes, an 18-year-old from North Dakota.

According to the LA Times, a protective order has been issued against Miller, filed by indigenous activist Chase Iron Eyes and his wife, Sara Jumping Eagle. They allege that Miller has psychologically and emotionally abused the 18-year-old, who met the actor six years ago.

Under tribal law, despite being 18, they are still Tokata’s legal guardians.

The Standing Rock Sioux Tribal Court granted the protective order, but law enforcement has not been able to locate Miller or Iron Eyes to serve the order.

The family’s petition indicates they’ve attempted to serve the actor at least four times, in both Vermont and California. Chase Iron Eyes says the pair “move around a lot” and it makes it difficult to find them to serve them the order, which dictates that Miller cannot contact the family and must stay away from their North Dakota home for 30 days.

Miller is accused of assaulting Jumping Eagle when they went to California to check on Tokata earlier this year. She filed a police report with Santa Monica police after the incident.

Tokata and Miller allegedly met in 2016 when Tokata was 12 and Miller was 23. The family’s petition accuses Miller of “corrupting a minor.” They believed the relationship to be innocent at first, established under the pretense of Miller’s activism during the NoDaPL (Dakota Access Pipeline) protests.

Now, they accuse the actor of “cult-like and psychologically manipulative, controlling behavior.” They also allege that Miller gave Tokata drugs and tried to sleep in the same bed as Tokata when the teen was only 14, flying Tokata to London for a “Fantastic Beasts” premiere.

Tokata’s parents also allege “sexual predatory behavior” and claim that Miller is using multiple social media accounts “to threaten and gaslight any victims and truth from coming out.”

Tokata took to Instagram, issuing a statement to “acknowledge the tragedy that is the narrative of the general public and the assumptions made on my behalf by my family and friends regarding my stability and otherwise.”

Tokata’s mother says that Tokota has not had a phone in some time and believes Miller crafted the statement on their behalf.

“The Flash,” which stars Miller, is set for release on June 23, 2023. Miller also recently appeared in the “Fantastic Beasts” movie.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

If you’re still doing requests for the android AU, maybe something angsty? Like someone confronting them about something about possible legal trouble for both of them? Or something fluffy like cuddle times after a long day. Whichever you are more up for writing

Currently I'm at work with an extra hour to my shift, so I'm still up for writing things!

How about both? Are you guys ready to meet some of Aziraphale's family?

At this point, a relationship is forming and Crowley has a name! Since I've written Crowley presenting male and gnc, let's try she this time.

Warning: belittling, low self-esteem, homophobia

On with the fic!

--

Aziraphale froze, a look of terror suddenly crossed his face when the door to his shop opened. Crowley wondered why the sudden mood change, until she noticed who had stepped through the door.

"Gabriel...! H-how are you?" Aziraphale greeted, and was met with a sharp, plastic smile from one Gabriel Archer.

Crowley knew exactly who he was, the current owner and CEO of Heavenly Industries. Which was dangerous for Crowley, considering that her make and model came from his company, along with Ninth Circle Inc.

She carefully slipped behind a shelf, but peered around, watching.

"Just came to check up on you, Ez!" Gabriel replied, still smiling. "It’s been ages!"

"Nearly a year, yes." Aziraphale tried to smile and Crowley frowned, worried for her angel. She also noticed another man with Gabriel. Her files indicated that this was Sandford Phon, Gabriel's righthand man.

Aziraphale coughed. "Well, seeing as you came all this way, might I offer you a drink? I also made a lovely orange glazed cake with dark chocolate shavings that's just divine-"

"Please, sunshine." Gabriel scoffed. "As if I'd sully my body with such... fattening matter."

Crowley felt a sharp spike of anger run through her system. Did he just insult her angel's perfect figure?!

"Nothing for me, unless if you've finally listened to me and gotten into those liquid supplements I recommend?" The taller man asked, then chuckled. "Well, dumb question, doesn't look like you did."

Aziraphale bit his lip, placing his hands on his stomach. "They make me nauseous... right, well, to what do I owe this visit?"

"Yes." Gabriel stood tall, his back straight as he looked down at Aziraphale. "Rumor has it you have an android."

"What?"

"Apparently, one of very high value too! One the... lower class can't afford." Gabriel was smiling again, and it made Crowley uncomfortable.

Aziraphale frowned. "Gabriel, you know how I feel about modern technology and the ownership of an android or robot."

"Yeah, yeah, that whole cyborg robot solidarity thing you prattle on about. Look, you know if you have one, it has to be registered, and... you're not in the system for one!"

Thr smile dropped. "Where is it?"

"Right here!"

Crowley felt someone grab her arm and she screamed. It was Sandford, when had he walked off?! "Let me go!"

He grinned, showing gold teeth, and pulled her over. Crowley could fight back, throw him across the room, but that was a very risky idea! They can't know she's an android!

"Crowley! Sandford, let her go!" Aziraphale snapped. "Gabriel, that's uncalled for! She's my friend!"

Gabriel ignored him, his attention on her instead. He grabbed her chin, looking at her face. Her shades were in place, dark enough to hide what was under them, but just in case...

He lifted them, surprised by what he seemed to find. Crowley left her left eye as it normally was, but her right, the snake eye...

It was gone, rolled back into her head, a protection method for her sensitive ocular parts.

He frowned touching her face, then toyed with a lock of her wig hair. Then he smirked. "Wow, Ezra. Didn't know you got yourself a little girlfriend! Always thought you were a fairy, but hey, guess you proved yourself wrong! There really is a woman for every man, am I right?"

Crowley pulled her arm away from Sandford, rubbing the spot he had been clutching. She was so glad for her shades and forgetting to take off her gloves when they got back.

"Guess seeing you with a girl must have confused the locals! Bet no one thought you'd date a real girl, just had to assume you were a robo lover!" Gabriel laughed and Aziraphale smiled awkwardly.

"Yeah... well, it was nice seeing you again, but call first next time. I could be out, or busy."

"Right. Oh, and sunshine, the annual party is coming you know you did get an invitation yes?"

"Y-yes, I have it in my office."

"Great!" The CEO was all smiles again. "See you then! And your lady friend too." He winked at Crowley, and she felt like throwing up for the first time in her life.

They watched the two men leave before Crowley stomped over, locking the door and turning the open sign to close. "Fuck, he's worse than I remember!"

She turned and looked at her angel, he looked so exhausted and sad. "Angel?"

"Crowley, I am so sorry...!" The cyborg blurted out. "That was so risky, he could have taken you away and... oh my dear girl, I would never let that happen!"

Suddenly, she had her arms full of angel and she clung tightly. "No, no, I should be comforting you! He upset you, insulted you!"

"It’s... it's fine."

"It’s not!"

"Really, it is. He's done it since we were children."

Crowley blinked, her mind buzzing. "What do you mean?"

Aziraphale sighed and took her hand, leading her upstairs to his flat, his room. He didn’t speak until they were on the bed, cuddling close, his fingers in her wig, his arm around her.

Gabriel and I are... brothers." Aziraphale sighed. "Same father, different mothers. I took my mother's last name and the family shop when I was out of school. He went off to America and took over the family business."

"But... you're not in his files." Crowley mumbled.

"No, because he doesn't want me to be. But father has me listed as part of the company until my death or I relinquish my rights and shares. I'm technically an employee, I get a paycheck, but I think it's to keep me away."

Crowley held him close. "Your brother's a wanker."

This earner her a laugh. "Oh, I am very aware that he is, love."

"He doesn't like the fact that you like men."

Aziraphale sighed. "No, he took after his mother. She had... opinions. Gabriel never liked my interests in men. Then again, I don't think he's ever liked much about me. He's the one who started the whole Ezra thing cause he hated my name. It just stuck "

"I love your name." Crowley replied. "It’s fitting for an angel, the best one."

Aziraphale smiled at her, kissing her head. "I could use a little nap, is that alright?"

"Fine by me! You know I love a good nap." She said before setting her eue back in place. Aziraphale made a face but smiled, kissing her head again with a quiet thank you.

He held her close, resting her head against his shoulder, and she smiled, keeping close, making herself warm for him. And quietly thanked her lucky stars her human was the brother with the brain cells, because that was too close.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Bad Batch x Jedi!Reader: Ghosts

(Author’s Note: I’m baaaacccck!  I’ve had a rough few weeks and found almost no inspiration or motivation to write here, but I woke up this morning and felt like a new person.  Thank you for waiting and for continuing to read, like, comment, and reblog!

Anyway, this was a request I received moons ago, and I just wanted to say to the Anon who requested that I did not forget about it and I’m so sorry for the wait.  For real, thank you for the request, and I hope you like it.

OG Request: Can I request a bad batch and reader who was their sister, they were also a Jedi. But then order 66 happens and the bad batch tries to kill her but she escaped after being shot by crosshair. She ends up working with the ghost crew and meets up with them during rebels, she's almost scared of them. She also tears up seeing how much older the are

Warnings: blaster wound, some angst, fluff ending)

   Got your back,” you growled, using your lightsaber to block some incoming shots. Hunter fired his blasters at the group of oncoming droids that headed toward you.

   Wrecker was plowing through the enemy squads like it was nothing, giving an enthusiastic yell here and there.  He paused to give you a thumbs-up with a gloved hand, and you grinned back.  Crosshair was picking them off from his position off the immediate battlefield. He blasted one right in front of you.

   “Nice shot!”

   Tech was handling things just fine on his side.  You moved past him to cut through a few droids nonetheless and exchanged nods of appreciation.

   Just another day with the Bad Batch, the rogue squad that had come to be your family over the course of the war.  You had adjusted to living life on the wild side- dangerous missions and poor odds.  The group managed to get through each one, and you grew stronger.

   This mission, to invade and destroy the Separatist base from the inside out, was a particularly risky one.  But like the others, this one was going rather well.

   Or it had been.  Until Tech alerted Hunter of an incoming comm that was rather urgent.

   You didn’t see who the transmission was from.  You caught a glimpse of the blue form displaying on Tech’s comm before having to deal with an oncoming droid.  You planted a thermal detonator and somersaulted away so it could blast the last of the droids, and you’d be ready to check in with your squad about the comm.

   As the battlefield went dead silent after the fall of the final droid, there was a shift.  That was the best way to describe the feeling.  Something just wasn’t right.  You glanced over to see Hunter and Tech standing perfectly still as they received the message.  That’s when it hit you.  Whatever it was, it was deadly, and you knew you needed to get your squad out of there.

   You turned fully toward them, lips parting in the beginnings of a warning about the shift in your feelings.  You could only hope they’d listen to you and get out in time without an argument.  Your voice was cut off at the sight of three visors facing you with blasters aimed your way.

   “Guys?” you called, eyes flickering to each of them.  “Hunter?  What’s going on?”

   Two more visors, Crosshair’s and Echo’s, joined them. Cross kept his rifle ready at his shoulder, aimed at you as well.  That’s when you realized they weren’t in danger.  They were the danger.

   “The jedi are traitors to the Republic,” Hunter’s voice echoed in the space between you.  “By order of Sidious, they are to be executed for their crimes, and that includes you.”

   “W-what?”  You grasped your lightsaber tightly, not wanting to raise it and alarm them further.  “I haven’t done anything.  We’ve been fighting for the Republic.  See those droids?”  You nodded in that direction.  “I cut them up myself with my lightsaber to protect the galaxy.  We did it together.”

   “Stop trying to reason with us,” Crosshair hissed.  “You’re...a...traitor.”  He hesitated, body quivering for a moment as his visor looked to the ground.  Whatever cloud of confusion had settled on him, it was like he tried to fight it.

   “It’s me,” you said.  “It’s __________.”

   Hunter’s body shook again before he aimed the blaster at you with resolve.  “You heard Sidious, boys.  Order 66 must be carried out.”

   Searing pain traveled through your shoulder as you made a run for it, causing you to stumble.  You spared a glance behind you to see the Bad Batch giving chase.  Crosshair had actually shot you.  A different kind of pain exploded in your chest at the betrayal.  Even though you knew this Sidious was behind it all.  Even though you knew it wasn’t the real Crosshair.  It still hurt.

   Despite the physical and emotional agony, you kept running.  You deflected more blaster shots with your lightsaber, using your abilities to leap into the nearest ship.  The presence of your closest allies began to fade as you took off, leaving to shoot at the vehicle to no avail.

   Fortunately, you and the squad handled dangerous missions on your own without too much Republic assistance, so you were able to get into space without encountering any other soldiers.  When things quieted down and you were faced with the blur of stars and planets outside the viewport, you shrank back in your seat from the weight of grief.  For the first time, you allowed yourself to grieve.  The life of a jedi was by no means easy, but you were trained for years to not give into such strong attachments to avoid the dark side’s pull.  

   This time, you let the tears fall for your squad.  You let the sob rip through the lonely ship.  It was a relief to cry, but not enough to dull the pain.  It was like a fresh wound, raw and stinging.

   “Crosshair, Hunter, Wrecker, Echo, Tech…” you cried their names, demanding an answer from no one in particular.  Just then, a beep sounded amongst the ship controls that alerted you of an incoming message.  You sniffled and answered, eyes widening at the sight of Jedi Obi Wan Kenobi.

   “...I regret to inform you…”

- - - - - - - - - 

   “__________?  What are you doing?” Ezra called.  “We’ve got to go!” 

   You glanced his way from several feet away, holding up a hand as a signal for him to wait.  Something felt off about this place.  It was a feeling you hadn’t felt in a long time.  A long time.

   “Is this a jedi thing?” he asked, walking over.  Despite being quite skilled and talented for one so young, he was still very early in his training with Kanan.  Nothing could quell his curiosity, though.

   You nodded.  “There’s something...someone...here.  I think I know them.”

  “It’s just an old ship,” he shrugged.  “It is a scrapyard, after all.”

   It was a good point.  The place looked rather abandoned to the naked eye, but you could see beyond appearances.  There was more to this ship than just a heap of metal.  Something felt oddly alive about it.

   “I’m going to check it out,” you said.

   “But Hera said-”

   “Ezra,” you interrupted with as patient of a tone as you could muster.  “I need to do this.  I’ll be right back.”  You took a few cautious steps forward only to hear him walking behind you.  You peeked at him over your shoulder to see a determined expression on his face.

   “If something really is going on, I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

   “Ugh, fine,”  You pretended to be annoyed, though deep down you were glad he was coming along.  Something stirred inside you.  You sensed a presence that you hadn’t in years.  Could it be…?  No, it couldn’t.

   “__________?” The all-too-familiar voice called.  A face popped out from the old ship.  Even among the wrinkles and white hair, you recognized a piercing set of brown eyes.  Your own eyes widened as your instincts took over, and you turned to bolt.  “No, wait!”

   “Stay back!” Ezra warned, hands raised to the figure that emerged from the ship quickly.  A much taller figure stepped out, and this fellow threw his head back and laughed.

   You froze in place, taking in the aged faces before you.  None of them held the same conflict in their gaze as they had the last time you were with them.  They held their hands up as a gesture that they carried no weapons.

   “_________, it’s alright,” Echo called.  “We mean you no harm.”

   “Please, don’t go.”  Hunter’s tone sounded so pleading; it made you want to cry.  You did not sense any evil intent on their part.  It was a good sign that they were no longer under Emperor Palpatine’s control.  Over the years, you discovered what exactly had happened to your squad.  Old Republic files you’d hacked revealed that something known as Order 66 had occurred, and you had pieced together the horrible plot to overthrow the jedi.  Like the others, you had to stay hidden- even from the Bad Batch.

   “How do I know this isn’t a trick?” you asked hesitantly.

   Tech took a step forward, and you gripped the handle of your lightsaber as a warning not to approach.  His eyes flickered to the weapon before he took a step back.  “After Order 66, the new Empire retired us.  I had quite a bit of free time, and while doing some research, I stumbled upon a report: it told me all about these biological chips.”

   “And we removed them!” Wrecker said.  He turned his head to the side, his pointer finger tapping on a scar on the bald skin.  By then, you started walking towards them.  You couldn’t believe how they had aged so much.  You were in front of Crosshair first, reaching a hand up to touch his weathered face.  He didn’t tense like he used to every time you accidentally brushed against him.  As a matter of fact, he even smiled a little.  Age had worn down his tough-guy act.

   “It’s...good to see you,” he said.

   Then, all at once, the tears started flowing.  It was like you picked up right where you left off all those years ago.  You threw your arms around him, and after a few moments of crying into his shoulder, you felt his arms come up to hold you comfortingly.  “Cross...I missed you so much!”

   “I missed you too.”

   “Hey,” Wrecker grunted.  “I missed you!  Don’t I get a hug?”

   You laughed through the tears and turned to give him a hug only to be lifted off the ground in a familiar, enveloping embrace- the kind only Wrecker could give.  He set you down laughing with you, and you pulled Echo and Tech into a little group hug.  They both smiled widely, Echo chuckling, as you pulled them tighter.  Then, you were faced with an aged Hunter who looked conflicted. You could feel his warmth and happiness to see you, but he also carried guilt.  You quickly wrapped your arms around him, and he hugged back.

   “__________,” he murmured.  “I’m...sorry-”

   “Not another word,” you interrupted.  “It wasn’t your fault.  None of you are to blame.”

   “But-”

   “Not another word,” you insisted, flashing him a smile.  He returned with a handsome grin that showed the old Hunter even through his aged appearance.  It brought more tears to your eyes.  “I’m so glad we all found our way back together.”

   “Um, __________?” Ezra spoke up.  He gave a shrug, confused about the interaction.

   “I’ll explain,” you told him.  “Bad Batch, this is my friend, Ezra.  Him and I are members of a crew that does what it can to mess with the Empire.”

   “Oh yeah?” Wrecker asked.  “As soon as our chips were removed, that’s what we started doing.”

   “Really?”

   “Indeed, we’ve made significant progress,” Tech said.

   “Well,” you sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder plate.  “What do you say we regroup and mess with the Empire together?”

   “I think…” Hunter stroked his chin in thought.  “I think that sounds like a great idea.”