#we all have a metro inside of us.....

[oensible]

"i know this tunnel and this tunnel knows me"

image descriptions in alt

(version without the map/diagram under the cut!)

[protect-namine]

had to go (near) bgc today......... I was so STRESSED just being there. I haven't been there in years but I get flashbacks to how bad commuting to and from bgc was like. and that stress is just gonna follow me every time I'm near that area

ofc no one here knows what I'm talking about except for maybe like a handful of people, but just know that if you're ever in metro manila, do NOT believe anyone who says it's nice to be in bgc. it is a soulless capitalistic haven without good public transportation. dude I'd rather commute to makati, or hell, mall of asia than bgc. bgc is a hellscape (if it's not apparent from the post, I live in north metro manila) (this is also funny bc like. it shouldn't be terrible to go to bgc bc it's quite near makati but makati is sooooo much more accessible. commuting to and from bgc and makati itself is also its own nightmare)

[pathologicalreid]

Hii I am making a Spencer Reid x citizen! F reader. They have been dating for a really long time but for a while reader has been dealing with a stalker, suddenly the stalker becomes much more violent and maybe even kidnaps her if we want to get real cray cray. Just lots of protective reid and angst to comfort!!

don't lose your head | S.R.

a stalker uses your work as a tudor history professor to follow your every move, so you go to the only place you can think of for help - the BAU

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: professor!reader, fiance!spencer, erotomaniac stalker, lots of tudor history facts, kidnapping, decapitation, happy ending, s11 (post-maeve), guns, death, spencer feels a lot of guilt, unhelpful police, exhaustion, nausea, dry heaving word count: 3.71k a/n: yall if i wanted to make this into a series would you read it 😭 i had so much fun writing this!!! and yes the title is a reference to six! thank you sooo much for requesting!!

you

You told Spencer after the fourth note. While the first two had been near your office door – harmless enough to have been brushed off as a student prank, the third note had been left on your desk. When someone had gotten into your locked office to leave you an intense love letter, you knew you were out of your depth.

After years of hearing stories about the BAU needing to battle the chain of command, you thought the best thing to do was to first go to the campus police. You were a professor, so the natural assumption was that they’d look into it.

They didn’t even take a report. No one listened to you.

From the campus police, you went into the city police, then the county, and by the time you marched into DC Metro, you hadn’t slept in a day. Spencer was in Utah on a case, and you didn’t have anywhere else to go. Once DC Metro told you there was nothing they could do without an open investigation or further evidence, you went back to your apartment.

The fourth note was there waiting for you, covering the camera that you kept on your front door.

Since you had the first three notes already in your bag, you plucked the newest one from where it was stationed on the front door and stuffed it in with the others before making the trip down to Quantico.

You had no idea when the team would be back, but the security guards at the front desk recognized you from the times you’d come to pick Spencer up or bring him lunch and they let you up anyway.

There were no notifications on your phone from Spencer letting you know that they were flying home, but the only place you felt safe was in their headquarters. The idea of going to see Penelope crossed your mind, but as a profiler-adjacent, she’d likely see right through you. You never dropped by, especially not when Spencer was away.

Settling yourself at his desk, you pulled an empty manila folder from a drawer, placed the notes neatly inside, and left it on Spencer’s desk before sitting in his chair and waiting for something to happen.

“Hey, Reid,” you heard a familiar voice from behind you. Slowly, you spun the chair around and looked at the team as they filtered in the glass doors.

Confused, Spencer tilted his head at you, clearly wondering why you were staking out the bullpen as he approached you. As he got closer, he observed the bags under your eyes, bloodshot from your lack of sleep over the last few days, “What’s wrong?”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you clutched the folder like your life depended on it – for all you knew, it did. Your eyes followed Spencer as he knelt in front of you, accepting the folder when you handed it to him, “I think I’m in trouble,” you whispered, voice raspy from lack of use.

Your fiancé flipped through the pages, reading each of them a few times while you garnered attention from other members of the BAU. Tara, Derek, and JJ all crowded around Spencer’s desk, curious on your surprise appearance.

“I…” you faltered as you tried to explain what felt inexplicable. “The first one was folded over the doorknob of my office, the second one was slid beneath the door to my office, the third one was left on my desk, and the fourth one,” you glanced nervously at Spencer, “it was on the apartment door.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed, “apartment door? Our apartment door?” As he questioned you, he stood up, leaving you with four federal agents staring down at you.

Despondently, you nodded, steepling your fingers in your lap and letting your shoulders droop.

“I’ll go get Hotch,” JJ said, nodding at everyone else to confirm her intentions before turning around, making her way up the steps to Hotch’s office.

From there, you ended up in the roundtable room. Tara had personally brought the letters for the lab to be checked for prints, and the techs had sent Garcia scans that were now projected on the screen. Each member of the team had them up on tablets, but you and Spencer knew the words by heart.

Shaking her head, Tara looked up at everyone, “I mean, who writes like this anymore? ‘But if you please to do the office of a true loyal mistress and friend, and to give yourself up body and heart to me, who will be, and have been, your most loyal servant,” she shrugged, continuing to look over the letters.

“They’re love letters,” you explained, tugging the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your palms before crossing your arms in front of your stomach. “The words aren’t original, they’re all passages from the love letters of Henry VIII to Anne Boleyn.”

Pointing to something on her screen, JJ frowned, “And what does his greeting mean? He always starts with ‘my rose without a thorn’.”

Nodding dejectedly, you focused your eyes on the now-empty manila folder on the table in front of you. “That was what Henry VIII called Catherine Howard, she was his youngest wife. It’s widely accepted among scholars that she was around seventeen when they got married, but others say she could’ve been as young as fifteen,” you answered, wondering if more details would help the investigation.

“So, we have Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, which wives were those?” Rossi asked, looking around the table for someone who knew the answer.

In the middle of scrawling something on an evidence board, Spencer answered quickly, “Two and five.”

Folding your hands in your lap, you scoured your memory for anything that could be helpful. When Hotch asked if those numbers meant everything to you, you just shook your head. “Is there any significance to the two wives he chose being Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard?”

Your lips parted in surprise as the blood drained from your face, “They were the two wives who were beheaded.”

An eerie silence fell over the room, interrupted only by a chime from Penelope’s laptop, her shoulders slumped forward in abject disappointment, “The lab didn’t find anything on the letters. No prints, no hair… nothing, but uh…” her voice trailed off as she looked up at Hotch, it was almost like she was seeking permission.

Each member of the BAU looked at each other with the same concerned expression on their faces. “What do you all know that I don’t?”

“Two bodies turned up last week in the greater DC area,” Morgan was the brave soul who spoke up, “they were both missing their heads, and they were both college professors.”

Goosebumps spread over your entire body, a chill of fear causing the tip of your nose to feel cold, “Oh, I…” you fumbled over your words, standing up from your chair and rushing to leave the roundtable, nearly throwing yourself out of the bullpen on your way to the women’s restroom.

Entering one of the stalls, you haphazardly gathered your hair at the back of your head and you dry heaved into the toilet. You dropped to your knees as nothing came out.

A knock at the door barely garnered your attention, you didn’t even bother responding as Spencer was already entering the stall, “Oh, honey.��

That was it, you sat back on your heels as tears welled in your eyes, looking up at Spencer as he sat down next to you. Immediately, you turned your body to face him and leaned forward.

Welcomingly, Spencer grabbed you, firmly wrapping his arms around your torso as he pulled you into his lap, “I have you. I’m right here.” His voice was gentle, no more than a whisper as he kept a firm pressure around your body, “You’re safe with me,” he reassured you, using one hand to keep you upright and the other to rub your back as you cried.

Your face was buried in the crook of his neck as you wept, the sensation of fear ran through your body like electricity, and you felt content for the first time in days in the safety of Spencer’s arms. “I- I just teach. I’m n- not built for this,” you cried, words slightly muffled by his shoulder.

You were a history professor, teaching a course on the six wives of Henry VIII, this was never even in the realm of things you considered when putting together your syllabus.

Taking a shaky breath, you pulled away from Spencer, and he reached behind you for a wad of toilet paper to dry your face. “Spence,” you said, though it came out as more of a whimper.

“When’s the last time you slept?” He asked, cupping both of your cheeks in his hands while he studied your exhausted expression.

Shrugging, you shuffled off of him, dropping the wad of toilet paper in the bowl and flushing it, “A day? Two?” You weren’t entirely sure what day it currently was, the events of the last few had caused everything to sort of blend together.

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Okay,” he responded, slipping his phone out of his pocket before typing something out, “Why don’t you go lie down in Morgan’s office for a little while? He won’t mind.”

You blinked a few final tears from your eyes before affirming, “Yeah, uh. I need to grab something from my car.”

“Okay, are you parked in the garage? I’ll go down with you,” he offered, getting up and lending you a hand up, mumbling about the state of the bathroom floor as he did so.

After washing your hands, the two of you made your way through the hall and to the elevator before Garcia called out for Reid, “Hotch needs you for something, he said it’s urgent.”

Glancing back at you, he pursed his lips before selecting a lower-level special agent to go with you to the parking garage. “Be right back,” you told him as you stepped onto the elevator.

him

Once he was finished with Hotch, Spencer made his way back down the hallway, expecting to find yourself settling in Morgan’s office only to find it empty. Turning back in the hallway, he nearly bulldozed into Morgan and JJ, “Hey, what’s the rush?”

“Have either of you seen Y/N?” He asked, trying not to let panic rise in his voice, but there had been ample time for you to get to the parking garage and back. You should’ve been back by now.

The two of them shared a look, “Uh, no, I haven’t seen her since she left the roundtable room. Is she alright?” JJ asked, blue eyes filled with concern.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Spencer hit the number one on speed dial – your number – and brought the phone to his ear before rushing to the elevator and moving to the side as JJ and Morgan piled in with him. Frantically pushing the button for the parking level, he cursed as the phone went to voicemail.

“Reid, what is it?” Morgan asked as the elevator started moving down.

Redialing your number, Spencer muttered to himself, hoping you’d pick up, “I sent her down with an agent. Hotch needed my apartment key so that Tara and Rossi could go look for anything.”

As the steel doors opened, the three of them drew their firearms, each of them taking a different direction when Spencer realized he didn’t even know where you had parked your car. “We have an agent down,” Morgan called out, calling Garcia and putting the phone on speaker. “Baby girl, we need medical and crime scene techs down to the lower-level parking garage,” he said into the phone.

“Spencer,” JJ called out, garnering his attention as he made his way through the garage to where JJ and Morgan were now stood, Morgan was applying pressure on Agent Franks’ wound, and JJ was looking at a car.

The passenger door to your car was open, and the vehicle was chiming as an alert to get you to close the door. As he stepped forward, something glimmered at the edge of his vision. Crouching down, he picked up your engagement ring from the cement, “He’s got her,” he said, a wave of déjà vu nearly toppling him over.

Impatiently waiting for the elevator to take him back up to the sixth floor, Spencer trudged to the roundtable room, desperate for another look at the evidence board. The dates of each letter that you had received, the content of each letter, and the reason for all of this didn’t make any sense to him.

It had to be an erotomaniac, it was the only thing that made sense. You were an object of someone’s desires, and their delusion had to have become so strong that they took you.

Quietly, someone stepped into the roundtable room behind him, “What are you thinking about?”

Imminent death. Statistics of harm and death in cases involving erotomanic kidnappings. “Synchronicity,” he answered simply, entertaining JJ’s conversation as he continued to study the letters. The love letters were at the core of it all, so the answer needed to be written in there. Everything that had come to you was almost an exact copy of words written by Henry VIII.

“Ah, that’s Jung, right?” JJ asked, her voice was kind, and she was using the same tone she used when doing cognitive interviews with victims. He didn’t have time for her pity, they were on a clock.

Sighing, Spencer picked his dry-erase marker back up and scrawled on the board, “It’s a concept that he introduced, yes. It’s meant to describe the occurrence of events which seem like they’re significantly related but there’s no discernable causation.”

JJ nodded understandingly, taking a spot next to him and looking at the notes, “And what occurrence of events are we thinking about right now?”

“I suppose more than anything, I’m wondering if there’s an action that I took in the past that somehow caused me to find myself in this situation twice,” he answered, circling the word ‘the place chosen by yourself’ on the evidence board.

Humming, JJ turned to face him, “Does Y/N know?”

Pressing his lips together in a thin, white line, he nodded tightly, “I told her years ago, when we had first started dating, actually. I never thought…” his voice trailed off as he set down the marker, “She came to me, JJ. She came here to be safe, and he grabbed her from the parking garage.”

“You sent her down there with an agent, you thought you were doing the right thing,” JJ tried to comfort him.

Scoffing dismissively, he stepped back and took a seat in one of the chairs, “I can’t stop thinking about if it would’ve made a difference. If her asking me for help would have fixed anything, or if it would have ended the same way.”

Taking a seat near him, JJ paused for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words, before responding, “We can’t really afford to think like that though, in our line of work.”

Spencer scoffed, “No, we can’t. Especially not now, but the timing of it is weird. It’s been almost exactly four years, and now…” his voice trailed off as his eye caught on something on the paper. “The timing is off,” he muttered, picking up the first letter you had received.

“What is it, Spence?” JJ asked, tilting her head to the side curiously.

Shaking his head, he read the letter again, “This letter, it’s from the first letter Henry VIII wrote to Anne Boleyn, but in this version, he says he’s been waiting for months to be with her, but they waited seven years to be together because they were waiting for his marriage to Catherine of Aragon to be annulled.”

Still confused, JJ leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, “Okay, what does that mean.”

“We ruled out a student because the crimes didn’t read as mature, but what if it’s a different kind of student?” He proposed, standing up from the chair abruptly and starting to write on the board.

Rolling her chair closer to the board, she shrugged, “I’m not sure I’m following.”

Holding up a single finger, Spencer wrote a name down on the board, “Y/N has a grad student TA, he’s been working toward his PhD for seven years. He’s been her TA for three months – that lines up with the timeline in the letters.”

“Okay,” JJ said, starting to follow along, she waved at the team members in the bullpen to get their attention before hitting the call button on the conference phone. “Penelope, what do you have on a Geoffrey Williamson? He’s a TA in Y/N’s class.”

There was typing on the other line before a sound of disgust came from the technical analyst, “He is a different kind of smarmy, it looks like he transferred programs two years ago to Y/N’s university after he… oh. It looks like he bounced from foster home to foster home as a kid, his parents never fully gave up their rights but couldn’t follow through on their case plan. He was unsuccessful in his last dissertation defense three months ago,” she continued clacking on her keyboard, “after which his mentor teacher dropped him and the school gave him one more semester before pulling his funding. He asked Y/N to be his new mentor teacher and it looks like she turned him down -very nicely, might I add.”

Scoffing, Morgan crossed his arms in front of his chest, “That sounds like a stressor and a trigger if I’ve ever heard one.

“Garcia,” Hotch spoke into the phone, “Do you have a location for Williamson?”

There was more typing as Spencer could feel his carotid pounding in his throat, “It looks like he lives in student housing, but… he recently inherited an old factory after his biological father passed away two weeks ago.”

Nodding, Hotch looked around the table, “Send us the address, and forward it to Rossi and Lewis too.”

“Done, go get her,” Penelope urged into the phone before hanging up.

He slipped your engagement ring into his pocket before adjusting the strap on his Kevlar, thrumming with nervous energy as Morgan coordinated with SWAT, waiting outside of the old textile factory as the tactical team organized themselves in front of the BAU.

Spencer and JJ took the left side, Rossi and Tara took the right, and Morgan and Hotch went through the main doors.

“No!” Your voice broke out through the steel corridors of the factory, immediately followed by a yelp.

There was an awful noise then, like metal scraping against itself, “Fucking say it!” An unfamiliar male voice broke out in a holler.

Steeling himself, Spencer had to hold himself back from rushing into the room where your voice was coming from, each one of your sobs was like another strike at his resolve. “Good Christian people,” he heard you say, your voice was strained, “I am come hither to die, for according to the law, and by the law I am judged to- to-“ Your voice broke off into a heap of wails.

“What is she saying?” JJ whispered, waiting for SWAT to clear the corridor.

All of the blood had drained from Spencer’s face, “She’s reciting Anne Boleyn’s execution speech, from right before she was beheaded.”

JJ nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation – they needed to get in there, and they needed to do it quickly. SWAT waved them over, and the two of them filtered through the open doorway. The space was dimly illuminated by candles, but the only thing Spencer could focus on was your head, bowed toward the ground as you watched the ground. Above you, Geoffrey was holding a sword, ready to cut your head off.

“Geoffrey Williamson, FBI!” JJ called out, announcing themselves to the UnSub before he could get any further in his convoluted execution, “Put the sword down! Let Y/N go.”

Spencer clocked the UnSub’s grip tightening on the sword as he zeroed in on you, “I can’t! She has to pay for this! She has to finish the speech.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but as you raised your head slightly, he found himself silenced by your gaze. Roll, he mouthed the words to you, hoping Williamson was too focused on JJ to notice what he was trying to tell you.

“And by the law I am judged to die,” you continued the speech, your voice wavering.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer watched as the UnSub raised the sword despite JJ’s instructions to set it on the ground, “Y/N, stop talking!”

Releasing another sob, you finished the execution speech, “And therefore I will speak nothing against it.”

As soon as the last word was out of your mouth, Williamson brought the sword down, and as it swung, two things happened. JJ pulled the trigger on her firearm, killing the UnSub, and you rolled out of the way, the chains that bound your hands and feet clanging on the ground as you did so.

Holstering his weapon, Spencer ran over to you, dropping to his knees in front of you, “It’s done. It’s over,” he tried to reassure you, but you had begun struggling against your restraints as Spencer tried to settle you down, “Stop, it’s me, baby. Baby, it’s me,” he said desperately.

Once you had maneuvered yourself into a sitting position, you looked at Spencer with big, watery eyes before completely breaking down. “I just wanted it to end,” you babbled as your face crumpled.

“I know, honey,” he said, reaching out to pull you close as JJ contacted the rest of the team, asking for a chain cutter to get your restraints off of you as they weren’t able to find the keys on the body. “He’s gone, you’re safe,” he urged, holding you tightly.

You weren’t seriously injured, but there were enough bumps and bruises to make Spencer insist on a trip to the hospital. Until the EMTs could make it to you, he was fine with holding you on the floor of the factory. Keeping you close. Keeping you safe with him.

[errolluck]

Dear Americans and people outside Mexico: Please stop.

I have seen many posts of people outside Mexico saying: Congrats, Mexico! Claudia, a leftist feminist ambientalist jewish woman, is president! Take notes US!

Meanwhile, you go out in the streets in Mexico today and no one is celebrating. No one. The streets are empty, everything feels sad and hopeless.

A lot of people didn't want her. Because we know what is going to happen.

Morena (her political group) is literally in every position of power. From senators, to city governors. They have EVERY SINGLE thing in the goverment.

You know how bad things are gonna get for us here? Do you know what she has allowed? What THEY have done to our country? All the shit we have been through because of them?

No, because you don't care. You haven't cared enough to research who this woman is really and just praise her without knowing a shit.

Because you have to make everything about you, don't you?.

"I can't believe Mexico has a woman president before US!"

"OMG, US take notes!"

"The US-"

Can you stop for a second and think outside of your bubble? Do you truly know who this woman is and what she has done to Mexico? Or you are just using this to talk about you and your own country and problems?

Please. Please do your research.

She is not your precious feminist ally.

She has denied multiple times the ongoing wave of violence against women in Mexico (11 women go missing A DAY). She has sent riot police to gas feminist protests.

Did you hear what I said?

11 WOMEN GO MISSING A DAY.

EVERY DAY 11 WOMEN NEVER COME BACK, ARE KILLED, ARE RAPED, ARE TORTURED, ARE GETTING FORGOTTEN WITHOUT LEAVING A TRACE. EVERYDAY.

And she denies this. She has denied MULTIPLE TIMES that the violence against women is at an all time high.

A feminist would denied that 11 mothers/sisters/daughters/aunts/girls/women/people are going missing PER DAY?

No. Because she doesn't fucking care.

She is no ambientalist.

She was more than happy to support the Tren Maya, a project AMLO, the former president, was hooked on making since the begining.

The issue?

DEFORESTATION. MASSIVE DEFORESTATION.

10 MILLION TREES HAVE BEEN CUT DOWN.

Entire natural spaces gone for a train that isn't even working and already is having problems.

Also, how can I forget this?

27 people died, 80 injured.

The line 12 (Linea 12) of the CDMX Metro collapsed. The structure and the entire transport had (and still are) been neglected by the city administration.

Guess who was in charge of CDMX at the time of the tragedy?

Exactly, Claudia Sheinbaum. What was she doing instead of sending resources and money to fix and mantain the Metro?

But political propaganda for herself, of course!

And even after that tragedy, there have been multiple issues and accidents in the metro. A fucking coworker of a family member was trapped in a wagon alongside multiple people for HOURS due to a malfuction of the metro. They weren't allowed to get out even if they were cooking alive due to the heat of being inside a closed wagon and police ordered them TO NOT FILM what was happening to them.

She is not a saint. She is not an icon. She is not someone you should praise.

FUCKING INFORM YOURSELF BEFORE TALKING.

Mexico is not USA. Get it? We don't have the same politics and issues you have, get that?

The entire world doesn't revolve around you. We aren't your argument to use, we aren't your little meme to fuck around with.

We are people that are tired. People that didn't want this. People that are upset, dissapointed, mad, hopeless.

My blog isn't a political place, so as a final note, I want to say this:

I want to be wrong. I really, really want to be fucking wrong.

I want my country, Mexico, to be ok. To be a better place to live.

I HOPE to be wrong and that things get better. For me, for my family, for my friends, for the millions of people that stay, study, work, breathe, live and love this country.

Claudia Sheinbaum, I really want to be wrong about you. Not because I love you, but because I love Mexico.

I don't have high hopes for the future, but I really, REALLY, want things to be better.

That's all I have to say for now.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Confident in Us

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x confident!fem!reader (single mom)

Summary: You're confident, you keep Tim on his toes, but he realizes that it's not enough. He learns that you have a son from a previous relationship while Angela is pressuring him to ask you out, but you beat him to it.

Warnings: misogynistic comments (not from Tim), fluff, flirting, Tim gets a little nervous around r, r's son likes Optimus Prime (bc I like Transformers)

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“C’mon, babe, wake up!” you call again, holding your phone away from your face. “Okay, sorry, Angela, how can I help you?” you ask into the microphone.

“Babe? Did someone spend the night?” Angela teases.

“You know he did. Early morning calls from you are new, though.”

“We’re infiltrating a money laundering scheme. The Metro captain said you’d be a good fit to lead the operation,” she explains.

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Perfect! And I’d tell you to take your time getting ready, but you always look good.”

“Back atcha.”

You end the call and yell another wake-up call with more urgency. There’s a case to be worked on, and you know you can get it done. If you can get to work, that is.

“Sergeant Bradford,” you greet as you approach Angela’s desk. “Detective Lopez.”

“Morning,” Tim replies.

You smile at him before asking Angela where your temporary team is. She tells you they’re arriving shortly and meeting in the roll call room. There’s a case file spread open on her desk, and you lean beside her to look at it.

“When do you think your captain will just realize that I’d be a great permanent fixture on your team?” you ask Tim, looking up through your lashes. “I’d only distract you boys sometimes.”

“I think that’s the major concern,” Tim deadpans.

“Granted, we wouldn’t be able to work together,” you sigh.

“Why not?”

“We’d draw too much attention, Tim. Look at us.”

You smile again and Tim shakes his head. Your confidence reads as flirtation occasionally, but Tim has always been drawn to you. He’s constantly impressed by how good you are at your job, and how aware you are of what you are worth. Your strengths and weaknesses are well-known to you, and you use them to your advantage. Most importantly, you don’t let anyone walk over you. Being a woman in the police force is hard, but you make it look effortless and do it with grace.

“Why am I in charge of this?” you ask.

“You’ve worked a laundering op before, right?” Angela asks.

“I assisted in one when I was on patrol, yeah.”

“A very successful one, from what I hear. Since you’ve been on the ground for one, you were the best choice.”

You nod before you notice the Metro team enter. As you stand and move toward Tim, he wonders if you’re this confident outside of work, or if it’s something you’ve built up to maintain your sanity in a job surrounded by men.

“Think we’ll be done by eight?” you murmur.

“Why? Have a date?” he counters.

“Something like that,” you reply with a wink. “Let’s go catch some money launderers, Bradford.”

“We’ve got three Metro teams here for this op,” the Metro captain explains as you enter. “Work together or get out of my station, is that clear?”

Overlapping replies of “Yes, ma’am” mix as you lead Tim toward the front of the roll call room. A television screen shows the layout of the warehouse you will be infiltrating, but you have to explain all the minor details. Your previous success in a place like this was due to the precision of little movements, and this will be no different.

“So, what’s the plan?” a man in the front row asks.

You nod toward him and say, “Our goal is-“

“I was asking Sergeant Bradford,” he interjects.

You smile at him as you explain, “I’m in charge of this operation, so I can answer any questions you have. Our goal is to infiltrate the operation without breaching. Once inside, we can better understand the operation. Then, three different teams will breach from the locations marked on the map.”

“‘Scuse me,” someone calls from the back.

“Yes?”

“Why leave the front side open during the breach?”

“Excellent question. This unit backs up to a storefront on the opposite side. Patrol units will evacuate that store before the raid, so there will be no exfil points nor civilian interaction.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“No problem. You have your team assignments, and we will ensure each team is in location before the infiltration. In the case of anyone exiting the building before the breach begins, immobilize and detain as quickly and quietly as possible. Are there any other questions?”

Everyone shakes their head, and you hear the first man who cut you off mutter something under his breath.

“One more thing,” their captain adds. “If any one of you have decided to feel misogynistic today, get out now. I will not tolerate you rejecting orders for any reason. One more disrespectful comment toward another officer will get you benched. Indefinitely. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the men call together.

As they leave, she apologizes to you, but you brush off her concerns with a smile. You’re used to it, and she is too.

“Thank you for letting me join this operation,” you tell her.

“Of course. I hear you and Bradford are the best,” she replies. “Prove ‘em right.”

You nod before following Tim out. There’s a bit of time until you have to change and prepare to infiltrate, and you have paperwork to do until then.

“Good work in there,” Tim says.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls, Bradford,” you joke. “See you in a bit.”

He watches you walk toward your desk. When Angela slaps his arm, though, he turns away quickly with wide eyes.

“What was that for?” he demands.

“Are you going to ask her out or not?” she sighs.

“Not.”

“Why not?”

“Um, I don’t have a death wish,” Tim says dramatically. “She does not like being hit on, you know that.”

“No, she doesn’t like being objectified. You asking her out – genuinely being interested in her – would get an entirely different response.”

Tim rolls his eyes and notices a man walking toward you. He lays a hand on Angela’s shoulder and turns her toward you.

“Hey, baby, you need someone to escort you home tonight?” the man asks, though his eyes are nowhere near your face. “No need to go home without a man one more time, right?”

“The only boy I’ll be taking home tonight is my son, so no thank you,” you reply easily.

“Son?” Tim whispers.

“You didn’t know?” Angela asks.

“No, I… Look, Lopez, the point is I don’t need her to stop talking to me because I asked her out.”

“Then don’t ask her out like that.”

“She doesn’t want anything!” Tim exclaims. “Drop it.”

You look up when his voice raises, and your brows furrow when you see him talking to Angela. They wave, and you shake your head in amusement before returning your attention to your paperwork.

“I didn’t even know she had a son,” Tim adds quietly. “She keeps me on my toes at work, and that’s enough.”

“Sure,” Angela agrees. “But what about when it’s not enough anymore?”

“So…” Tim begins as you walk down a street to reach the target location.

“Put your arm around me,” you say suddenly.

Tim doesn’t question your request as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. His eyes are on your face, and you smile as you look up at him.

“It’s busier than I thought it’d be,” you murmur. “Don’t need to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

“Not a problem. We’re going to a place that doesn’t exist anyway,” Tim replies.

“You seem… off. Are you okay to do this?” you check.

“Yeah, I’m good. Angela just pried into my personal life again. Made me question things, for some reason.”

You chuckle and shake your head against Tim’s forearm. “Trust me, I know that situation all too well. She’s been trying to get me to start dating since my son got old enough to be left with a babysitter.”

Tim hums and you realize he may not have known as much about your personal life as Angela. You don’t talk about your home life much at work for a couple of reasons, but the biggest is your concern about the comments you’d get. Being a cop is hard enough, but a cop who is a single mother is much different. The things that the men you work with would say require a level of patience that you don’t have, and your confidence can’t conceal that.

“We’re here,” Tim alerts as you reach the entrance.

He removes his arm from your shoulders and opts to take your hand as he opens the door and leads you inside. The false front, Coo-Coo Cash Checking, is tiny, though you suppose they need as much room as possible for their backdoor counterfeiting business.

“Welcome, folks,” a man says as he steps to the desk. “What can I help you with?”

“My girlfriend and I are looking to buy a house but can’t get approved for the loan we need. A friend of mine told me you, or your boss, Malcolm Dmitri, could help,” Tim explains.

The man nods at the mention of the code word and steps back. “Sure, we can. Mr. Dmitri is in a meeting right now but should be done in about five minutes. Mind waiting?”

“That’s perfect,” Tim replies. “Thank you, sir.”

The door closes behind him and you turn toward Tim.

“Something feels off,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

He looks around, but there isn’t much to see in the five-foot-deep entryway where you stand. You rise to your tiptoes and look over the desk, but there’s nothing back there, either.

“They’re going to do something unexpected,” you say. “Let’s just roll with it.”

“Within reason,” Tim argues.

“What if my reason is different than yours?” you ask, leaning against him and smiling.

“Then I’ll pull rank,” he answers, sounding breathless.

“And here I thought we were friends.”

You pout, and Tim looks away quickly. Just as you stand and prepare to apologize for going too far, the door opens again.

“Mr. Dmitri can see you now. The problem is his office is small, so it’ll have to be one at a time. He’ll see you first, Miss…” he trails off, waiting for your name.

“Walton,” you answer, making up a name quickly.

Tim squeezes your hand, but you run your finger over his palm as you step forward. He registers your signal but doesn’t like what you’re about to do.

“I’ll be right back, honey,” you promise as you walk through the door.

Tim leans back against the wall as he waits for your signal to breach. He will rush inside the moment he hears it. Not a moment before, though, because he knows you and you know what you’re doing.

As you and Tim walk out of the front door after a successful raid, you pull his hand into yours again.

“Ask me what you wanted to ask before,” you say softly. “I don’t keep my personal life a secret from you on purpose, it’s just that some of the guys at work… I know how they’d treat me if they knew I had a kid.”

“I get it,” Tim replies. “You said you’re a single mom. I guess I’m just surprised anyone would leave you.”

“I left him,” you admit. “I know what I’m worth and that didn’t always sit well with him. I wouldn’t change a thing, though, because I got an amazing son out of the deal.”

“What were you thinking?” one of the Metro officers demands as you near the rendezvous point. “Going in there alone was stupid!”

“I had the situation under control,” you reply calmly.

Tim drops your hand and levels his gaze on the man before you. He’s too close to you, but Tim won’t step in unless he has to. You can handle yourself, he knows that, but it doesn’t keep him from getting angry with people who talk down to you.

“Clearly! They could’ve taken you in a second!” he replies. “How do you deal with her, Bradford? You just let her waltz into a death trap.”

“She is good at what she does,” Tim answers. “And you would do well to treat her like the cop she is and not my assistant. This is her operation, so stop questioning her decisions.”

“Oh, she’s got you on a tight leash, Bradford.”

“That’s enough,” you interrupt, your friendly smile long gone. “I know what I am doing, and since you clearly have no trust in me as a member of your team, you can go.”

“That’s not your call, girlie.”

Tim steps forward, but his Metro captain approaches before he can say anything.

“She dismissed you, officer. That means go. Now.”

The officer rolls his eyes and stomps as he pushes against your shoulder to get past. You shake your head before you ask if all of the suspects are in custody.

“Every one of them,” the captain answers. “Excellent work in there.” “I appreciate that,” you reply. “Sergeant Bradford was a great asset in there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Reviews are coming up soon.”

She winks at Tim before she pats your shoulder and returns to the mobile command unit. You exhale and roll your shoulders back to stand straighter.

“I’m sorry,” Tim offers.

“I don’t let it affect me anymore. My confidence threatens their insecurity, so they try to knock me down. I’ve gotten very good at standing my ground. But I meant what I said, you were great in there; couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I wasn’t even with you,” Tim argues.

“Yes, you were. I knew that you’d be there the moment I signaled. That’s why I was okay going a few steps further alone because you had my six.”

“Always.”

“There is one thing I’d like to ask you to do, though,” you begin. Tim nods, and you request, “Whatever Angela wanted you to do, go do it. She looks out for our best, even when it just feels like pointless meddling.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Sure, you can.”

“No, I really-“

“Tim,” you groan, leaning back.

“She wants me to ask you out,” Tim blurts out.

You stand up to look at him, and he simply shrugs. Though you suspect why he doesn’t want to do it, based on how you usually respond to being hit on at work, you know that you would say yes before he even finished.

“I have a kid,” you remind him quietly.

“So?” Tim asks, furrowing his brows.

“That’s a non-starter for most guys.”

“Most guys are idiots, then.”

You smile as you agree. “But you’re not. So, what are you going to do?”

Tim shakes his head, so you sigh and do something for both of you.

“Tim Bradford, will you go out with me?” you ask.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m asking you out. Now, my son may have to crash the date because my sitter is supposed to leave early tomorrow, but he’s a good kid. Most of the time.”

“Okay,” Tim says. “Yeah, let’s go out.”

“See, that wasn’t so scary,” you tease. You lean toward him to whisper, “And I promise that I’m not just using you to be a good influence in my son’s life. He has all the father figure he needs in Optimus Prime.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Tim asks quietly.

“Which part?”

“The-“

You cut Tim off with a kiss on the cheek, and when your hands hit his shoulders to steady yourself, he knows that Angela was right. She can never know that, though, and it was a one-time thing. Tim pulls you into a hug before you can pull back.

“Thank you for defending me,” you tell him.

“You didn’t need it,” he counters.

“Yet you did it anyway. That makes it even better, Tim.”

“Thanks for asking me out.”

“Now that we did need. I can get another sitter so we can go on a real date.”

“No, bring your son. He’s important to you, so he needs to be a part of this. If he doesn’t like me, we go back to being work friends.”

“And if he does?”

“Then I guess I have to fight Optimus Prime.”

“Mm,” you hum, pretending to think. “I think you could take him with a little help from me.”

“A sentient robot who turns into a semi versus two human cops? You’re more confident than I thought.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, I don’t.”

You step away from Tim and smile. “Then it’s a date. Am I in charge of this operation or are you?”

“Well, you did this one so well… I’ll handle the date; you just look perfect as always.”

You gasp and point at Tim as you walk backward toward your car. “You can flirt!”

“I learned from the best,” he replies playfully. “See you tomorrow.”

“Twice!” you remind him. “And, Tim, don’t bother to brush up on your fighting skills. You’re better than Optimus, every day of the week. He’s going to adore you.”

I hope so because I adore his mom, Tim thinks. Maybe more than adore.

[kamotecue]

first time trip ✾ a. putellas

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

summary: in which a lovely couple and their only child visit the philippines for the first time. pwnt!reader, real madrid!reader

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

you were sitting in the private jet, it would be a few hours till you’d land in the philippines. you looked to the back to see alexia sleeping with ana marie cuddled into her.

ana marie was the exact carbon copy of the two of you. she had your eyes and nose, but she had alexia’s hair and mouth shape. you softly smiled seeing the cute scene, alexia was the one who suggested to visit your home country for the first time.

after all, your daughter is reaching her sixth month. and her grandparents are so excited to see their little heiress, it was decided that ana marie would inherit your parents company.

you protested not wanting her life to be controlled, but your parents had agreed that she could live her life how she wants it. if she wanted to pursue a sport then she could, but she’d also have to run the company at the same time. quite hectic, is it not?

your thoughts were cut out as you heard someone calling you, it was your mother.

“anak, asan na kayo? [child, where are you now?]” your mother asked, as you hummed.

“nasa eroplano pa kami, ma. [we are still on the plane.” your mother hummed.

“tell us when you arrive, ha? susunduin kita. [i will pick you up.]” you softly mumbled underneath your breath.

“ma, it’s not needed po. i can drive there naman.” you talked with your mother for a few moments before she hung up as she had to go to work.

you opened your laptop preparing to do some work, and in that amount of time, the jet has landed. the pilot exited his cockpit, as you stood up packing things away.

“mahal?” you called out, wondering if alexia was awake. she was as she gently carried ana marie in her arms.

“vamos.” alexia said as you chuckled at her behavior, the bags were already placed into your car, as you opened the passenger seat for alexia who gave you a soft kiss on the cheek.

the trip to the house wasn’t that long, there would usually would be traffic as you lived in metro manila but for some reason, there wasn’t any which you were thankful for. traffic in the philippines was such a hassle, you didn’t want your child waking up in between.

as you pulled up, you noticed the silhouette of your parents waiting at the porch. alexia was the first one to get out, greeting your parents along with a certain mini you.

while you had gotten the bags from the trunk, you were pulled into a hug as soon as you were in your parent’s view.

“anak, miss ka namin. kamusta naman sa barcelona? [child, we miss you. how is it at barcelona?]” your mother said, as you hummed.

“it’s really great, ma. parehas lang yung weather. [the weather is the same].” your mother hummed as she pulled you all inside.

“ma, i’ll drop the luggage sa room ko.” she gave you a quick nod, as you carried the luggage by its handle, and swung the duffel bag over your shoulder.

you slowly went up the stairs, careful not to trip or fall. it was just as you remembered, the posters filled on the wall.

the medals you won from football tournaments during your studies in the states. you’ve joined your middle school, high school and college varsity team. you also played for a youth team as well.

the different colored medals were on display, the trophies had a specific shelf and the academic awards were also there.

“it’s still the same, huh.” you said, before joining your parents in the living room. alexia was chatting with them, while ana had just woken up from her nap.

the whole time of the trip, you’ve gotten to introduce alexia to the filipino culture, the crusine more specifically dishes like sinigang also known as sour soup, adobo which is braised pork, and etc.

you also visited a few clubs like stallion laguna fc or kaya-iloilo, clubs that your national teammates play in. they were quite surprised when they saw alexia knowing she’s considered as la reina. but it was a notable experience, alexia got to see you coach for the first time. in her words, it was extremely attractive for her.

[imdefinitelyfloating]

A Perfect Chaos (spencer reid x reader)

Pairing: Spencer x fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

This will switch between Spencer’s POV and Reader’s POV – the first paragraph is Reader, and from there it alternates. I hope it isn’t too difficult to follow along!

The universe can be funny sometimes. It puts us in places we never expect to be, and sets into motion the new chapter of our lives. And I believe that is exactly what happened when I walked into the BAU bullpen on my first day at my new job, 3 years ago. The only empty desk sat across from a man, with his curly golden locks, his sharp jawline, and the softest eyes; I was sure, this was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. I don’t know if I believe in love at first sight, but that’s the only way I can describe what I felt at that very fateful moment.

My whole life, I’ve been trying to narrow down all the things around me to an exact science. But when she walked in that day, I felt something I had never experienced before. I was… speechless. The way her hair flowed, the way her eyes sparkled, the way her skin shone despite the harsh lighting of the BAU bullpen; I’m sure, this was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid my eyes upon. There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to each other. I don’t know if I believe in soulmates, but that’s the only way I can describe what she would become to me.

Spencer and I became fast friends after I joined the BAU. I don’t know if it was intentional or just a simple coincidence, but Hotch always paired us together on cases, we sat opposite each other every day, and even rode all the same trains on the Metro. It’s safe to say we were quickly becoming the best of friends; we’d have Doctor Who marathons at his place, and have sleepovers at mine. Platonic, of course. There is no doubt in my mind that this is who I love, and this is who want to spend the rest of my life with. But I know he’ll never feel the same way, not for me.

Y/n became a place of comfort for me after tough cases, and she’d always be the one to pull me out and lift me up. She was my best friend, and I loved her, in more ways than she could even understand. I still remember the first time we sat together on the jet. It was a long case, and everyone was worn out. I felt the warmth radiating from her as she rested her head on my shoulder. I’m not the best with touch, but with her I didn’t mind. With her, I wish I could stay like that for all eternity. But I know she’ll never feel the same way, not for me.

Sitting opposite the man everyday, I quickly realised how much Spence loved his coffee (or in his case, sugar with a hint of coffee!) It soon became a tradition for us to bring coffee for each other every morning, and to go down to the little coffee shop a few blocks away on our shared breaks. As we’d walk, he would ramble on about Star Trek, and I’d counter back with my love of Star Wars! If there’s anyone who was going to challenge one of my favourite movie series, I’m glad it was him.

Valentine’s Day was always tough for me. To be honest, I was never really bothered by it until I met Y/n. Seeing her almost every day, but not being able to hold her, not being able to tell her how I really felt, it killed me inside. Every year, I thought this time I’m going to tell her. But when I would open my mouth to speak, it was like I’d forget how to talk, how to breathe. Now, three years later, I’m still just as speechless as I was when I had first met her.

February 14th – a day of love. It was meant to be a beautiful day, but for me it was just another day gone by when I hadn’t confessed my feelings to the man I so desperately wanted to hold, and to love. Still, me and Spence both went for our daily coffee break, both pretending to ignore the clearly obvious tension between us. We both had a lot of paperwork to get through, so we ordered our drinks to go. February in DC is unpredictable to say the least; the sun was finally shining through as we stepped into the small café, but as we stepped out, I felt the rain brush upon my face as I looked up to see clouds looming above us once again. And of course, just my luck, I don’t have my umbrella!

I must have forgotten my umbrella at my desk. The rain is really coming down now, so Y/n and I decide to take a shortcut through the park. We’re practically running now, and well, I’m not the most athletic of individuals. I stop at a bench, with Y/n coming back to hopelessly get me back up. She quickly gives in, sitting down on the small, wooden bench with me. The two of us sit in silence as I struggle to catch my breath in the cold Virginia air. But just as I felt my breath coming down to a more normal pace, I heard Y/n ask me the question I had been hoping she would never ask.

“So, Reid, who’s your Valentine’s?”

It had become something she’d ask me each year, always pestering me to go on dates or trying to set me up with one of her friends. But all I wanted to say was “I wish it was you.” It amazed me, a profiler, and she is still oblivious to how I really feel about her. Instead, I just brush her question off and ask her one instead.

“Who’s yours, Y/n?”

It’s now or never. If I don’t tell him now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. He has to know.

“I wish you were my Valentine.”

Is this real? Did she really just say that? No, she must be joking. She could never love someone like me. I’ll just laugh it off. Why isn’t she saying anything? And that’s when I saw it. I looked in her eyes. She’s serious? This is happening? Oh, this is happening. It’s now or never, she has to know. And with that, I pressed my lips to hers, and we stayed like that. The rain was pouring, the wind was howling. People were shouting “Get a room!” But we didn’t care. You always hear it in children’s fairytales, that when you truly love someone nothing else matters, the whole world stops except for you. I had never believed it until now, but Y/n is my fairytale come true.

As our lips parted from one another, we rested our foreheads together. Magic really does exist, because Spencer Reid is my magic.

Eventually, Y/n and I made it back to work. We were so ready for a trademark Hotch glare, coming back so long after our break had finished. But all we heard was Rossi, “Finally, thank God they admitted it!” I was about to speak, but Y/n read my mind and beat me to it:

“How did you- HOW?!”

Everyone erupted into a fit of laughter, Emily and JJ making pointing fingers and teasing as Garcia literally suffocated me in a classic Penelope hug. And then there’s Morgan patting Spencer a little too enthusiastically on the back, “Pretty Boy, my man!” Even Hotch gave a rare smile as he and Rossi observed the scene. It was a perfect chaos, and in the middle of it all stood Spencer and I, my soulmate and I.

Thank you for reading! 🥰💗

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

So, fun detail I just noticed about Megamind:

Famously, throughout the film Megamind mispronounces certain words, most notably: "hello" ("olo"), "Metro City" ("Metrocity") and "school" ("shool").

Like many fans, I'd attributed this and other oddities— like not knowing what a window is— to his unconventional upbringing and general social isolation. His speech sounds a lot like the way people pronounce words that they've only seen written down, so maybe he just hasn't had enough practice talking to other people out loud.

Lovely theory, very angsty, makes sense that this would be what the film-makers intended.

Except…

You know who doesn't seem to have this problem with pronunciation? And who in fact attempts to correct Megamind's pronunciation of various words more than any other character?

Fucking Minion.

Minion was there for literally every step of Megamind's childhood. They were raised on Earth together and went through seemingly the exact same experiences. Yet somehow Minion came out the other end knowing how to answer the phone and what a window is and why people use codes, while Megamind didn't.

And I am just so fascinated as to why.

Top three theories:

1. Megamind isn't actually mispronouncing words due to lack of practice, but rather for some other reason.

Maybe there's something up with his ability to hear certain sounds, or his alien anatomy makes it harder to pronounce them. Maybe he's neurodivergent (I mean, he definitely is, but maybe that fact is affecting his speech).

2. Megamind is mispronouncing things due to lack of practice, but there's something about Minion that makes him need less practice to pick up new languages.

Possibly as part of their protective role, his species has advanced language acquisition programmed in so they can act as translators. Else, while Minion and Megamind landed on Earth together, it's not 100% clear whether they were actually at the same age/developmental stage when that happened. If Minion was an adult (or older child) when he became fluent in English, he might have consciously focused more on accurate pronunciation than Megamind did.

3. Megamind is mispronouncing things due to lack of practice, but Minion is getting more practice than him.

This is… honestly the theory with the most evidence behind it. Like, we know that Minion isn't in jail at the start of the film, so he's clearly mot spending the same amount of time in solitary confinement that Megamind is.

He also appears to be in charge of providing Megamind with the resources needed to carry out his plans, which would presumably require him to communicate with scrap merchants, crocodile breeders and Romanian outlet store owners (among others) on the regular.

And like… if he's not getting thrown in jail whenever Megamind does, and Megamind is spending a fair amount of time on the inside, then Minion has to be doing something to pass the time. He's clearly a bit of an extrovert, and seems to take more pleasure in interacting with people than Megamind does.

It seems unlikely that he'd spend all his time sitting in the Evil Lair waiting for Megamind contact him or escape. So what does he do?

I find it both sweet and hilarious to imagine that Minion actually does have his own social circle outside of Megamind.

Minion goes to DnD on the second Tuesday of every month.

Minion gets advice on making costumes for Megamind from his weekly sewing circle.

Minion has been going to university online for the past eight years and is currently working towards his PhD in Marine Biology.

Minion is a semi-regular at Metrocity Night Clubs.

Minion does volunteer work sometimes with kids at the Metrocity hospital.

Megamind has barely any idea about any of this. Like, he knows Minion goes places at various times.

He knows that when he's rampaging through the streets Minion will sometimes stop to wave hello to various people that Megamind has never met. He's seen the half-orc paladin costume that Minion made for DnD.

But he's never really asked about it, and Minion has never seen the need to tell him. So long as Minion's happy, Megamind's happy, and so long as Megamind's happy, Minion is happy.

Meanwhile Roxanna, post-movie, has to grapple with the fact that sometimes she'll go to visit her boyfriend only for him to ask if they can go out for dinner instead because Minion's book club is meeting in the Evil Lair, and he's been gently encouraged not to come back after what he said to Helen about her (wrong) opinions on To Kill A Mockingbird.

[canonicallyobserving911]

“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

Season 7 FANON Speculation: Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapters 24 & 25 are now available on AO3.

Please note: Chapters 24 and 25 were posted at the same time.

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Currently 25 chapters completed: 973.1K Words; Rated: Mature

One chapter will be posted at a time.

___________

Two snippets are included below, one from Chapter 24 and one from Chapter 25. Both chapters are available on AO3.

___________

Here's a snippet from Chapter 24 on Christmas morning that's taking place inside of the Diaz Family's hotel suite in London, England.

___________

“Chris!”  Buck exclaims but his voice is still just above a whisper.

“Read it aloud so we can all hear it.”

Buck’s still trying to blink back his tears but he’s having a hard time doing it, so he just lets them roll down his cheeks.  He uses his forefinger and thumb to wipe them away and clears his throat then says, “Petition to adopt minor child Christopher M. Diaz” but that’s as far as he gets.

He hiccups on a sob, lowers his head and cries but they’re happy tears.  Eddie wraps his left arm around Buck’s shoulders, pulls him close and Chris moves from sitting on the ottoman to the sofa on the other side of Buck.  He wraps his arm around Buck shoulders the same way he did after Eddie was shot and the feeling makes Buck break.

Eddie rubs circles on his back to console him then he leans in and whispers into his ear, “My love, you’re already Chris’ dad and you have been for years.”

Buck nods and takes a few moments to compose himself.  Once he does, he looks at Chris and asks, “You want me to be your dad too?”

“Yes, I do.  Will you adopt me?”

How will Buck answer Chris' question?

___________

Here's a snippet from Chapter 25 of an emotionally angsty discussion happening on New Year's Eve after Buck, Eddie and Chris arrive at Maddie and Chimney's house.

___________

After they make it to the front door, Buck knocks at 8:54PM and after a few seconds, Chimney opens it.

“Welcome back guys, how was your trip?”

“It was great.”  Chris replies as he enters the house.

Buck and Eddie smile and Eddie says, “Exactly what our son said.”

Chimney raises his eyebrows but he recovers quickly because he knows they’re close but Buck’s never admitted Chris was his son before so he shrugs his shoulders and says, “Come in”.

When they enter the house, several voices yell, “SURPRISE!”

Buck and Eddie look at each other then they scan the room and they see everyone from A-shift along with Linda, Josh and some other people Eddie remembers from Metro Dispatch present.

Buck asks, “What’s all this?”

“It’s your engagement party.”  Maddie replies.

Buck and Eddie look at each other and other again and the only sound in the room are Chris’ giggles.  Everyone else is still and quiet because they can’t figure out why Buck and Eddie aren’t celebrating with them.

It’s so quiet that it’s starts to feel awkward so Buck raises his eyebrows and exclaims, “Uh… guys… we’re not engaged…”

He doesn’t get to finish because Maddie gasps and loudly asks, “What do you mean?”

What's going to happen next?

__________

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it.  But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

__________

Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago.  They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial.  But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories.  Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie.  It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - As Buck and Eddie begin to prepare for their marriage ceremony that will take place in Rome, Italy in December 2023, they start planning their first international adventure as a romantic couple. Even though Chris is still the only person they’ve told about their relationship, several people who know them have already witnessed the love they share and as the days continue, others will witness it too.

Chapter 17 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to departing Los Angeles for their international adventure, a moment in time will remind them; life is fragile, tomorrow isn’t promised and every second of everyday should be cherished because everything can change in an instant. The result of that realization will cause them to hold onto each other even more.

Chapter 18 - As Buck, Eddie and Chris prepare for family gatherings before and during the Thanksgiving holiday, the “Santa Ana Winds” start to blow and all sorts of expected and unexpected familial drama ensues.

Chapter 19 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to their wedding day, the universe begins to align everything so that some of their parent and children's relationships are strengthened while others come to an abrupt end.

Chapter 20 - With only 14 days remaining until Buck, Eddie and Chris depart Los Angeles, CA traveling to Rome, Italy, for their first family adventure, an early morning conversation about “tying up loose ends” helps Buck and Eddie realize there are still several things left unfinished on their ‘To Do’ lists. The question is will there be enough time to complete all of them?

Chapter 21 - Buck, Eddie and Chris are finalizing their ‘To Do’ Lists, double checking their itineraries and packing their suitcases in preparation for their trip to Europe so they can board their flight that departs Los Angeles, CA on Friday, December 15, 2023 at 3:25PM.

Chapter 22 - While Buck, Eddie and Chris spend the first 8 days of their European family adventure in Italy, their primary reason for going will be fulfilled as well as several others they hadn’t considered or anticipated.

Chapter 23 - As the Diaz Family continues their Italian family adventure, they’ll say, “Ciao” or hello and goodbye to a lot of things almost immediately after they become an official and legal family.

Chapter 24 - After Buck, Eddie and Chris arrive in London, England on December 24th; the Diazes immediately start preparing to spend their first family Christmas together. During their stay, each of them will hear a few choice words that will be the life raft to get them home to complete their searches to be seen and to be found.

Chapter 25 - After spending more than two weeks in Europe, Eddie, Buck and Chris are back in Los Angeles and they’re getting ready to attend Maddie and Chimney’s New Year’s Eve party. During the event, they have plans to make two surprise announcements but the question is, who’s really going to be surprised, the Diaz family or their found family at the 118?

Chapter 26 - Will be posted soon.

__________

Read chapters 1-25 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

[giuliadesu]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 | bang chan

kpop | giuliadesu

fem!reader ⍛ fluff ⍛ 1.4k

chasing that feeling by tomorrow x together

if it wasn’t for the giddiness you felt bubbling inside you, you wouldn’t have believed in the turn of events the last few days brought.

it was the last day before christmas holiday in the school where you taught english. the day was slowly moving towards a cool yet pleasant evening, with kids scurrying around to bid goodbye to teachers and friends before heading home, and faculty members stopping by a bit longer to chat before the long awaited break.

snow had started to coat the streets of seoul a couple of hours prior to your exit from the premise of the building. a smile crept over your face, as you enjoyed the feeling of the cold flakes gently landing on your skin, making your way to the metro station to head home.

after that, it was a flurry of events: chan had visited your apartment (thanks to the spare key you gave him) and left a small envelope on the console table near the door; it contained train tickets for a small skiing location in the gangwon-do prefecture, along with a tiny note handwritten by him.

“hey pookie! the guys and i have rented a cabin in this small village for the holidays, come join us! and no, we don’t accept a negative answer ♡ i’ll pick you up at the station”

you had just enough time to change into more comfortable clothes, pack a suitcase with warm clothes and your skiing gear, grab the presents for the boys and off you were towards the train station! 

you and chan had a bit of something going on, it was clear to everyone. the fine line between friendship and romance had started to get more and more blurred, with both of you making clear moves and statements that made it obvious you were in love with one another — despite not having confessed yet.

it was easy, considering you were both big on physical affection; hugs, naps together, holding hands whenever, soft kisses placed over cheeks or foreheads, tons and tons of cuddling… the kids were almost exhausted of hearing you say that you were just friends. friends didn’t behave like that and didn’t look at each other like that.

they were just hoping that the amounts of mistletoe hanging around the cabin and the festive atmosphere would give you the final push.

the 25th was a very sunny day, the majority of which was spent outside in the snow — whether skiing, snowboarding or simply chilling together.

then, after dinner, you all gathered on the carpet to exchange gifts, a warm glow coming from the lit fireplace. unsurprisingly, you and chan were sitting one next to the other, his arm lazily draped around your waist, while your hand would occasionally come to rest over his thigh.

while the other kids were busy opening the matching sweaters you’d gotten them (and throwing a tantrum over who wore it better), you took the chance to give chan his very own christmas present.

it was a small box, and just from the outside he realised it must have come from a very expensive jewellery brand. he sent you a glare, to which you replied by sticking out your tongue.

the black ribbon came off together with the lid, revealing the equally dark inside of the package. resting on a velvety cushion was a silver dog tag, engraved on both sides. the first thing chris noticed was how it perfectly matched the style of his chain bracelet. then, the quote on the front caught his attention: together forever, never apart; maybe in distance, but never at heart. the back also had something etched on it — the korean names of his friends.

his eyes shot up to meet yours, and you swore they were almost glossy.

“i don’t even know what to say… it’s just perfect.”

then he lifted you up from the floor and put you on his lap, hugging you tightly. you returned the hug immediately, your arms going around his neck.

“you don’t have to say anything. just know that the sentence speaks the truth and you are so, so loved.”

his grip tightened even more around your mid and you smiled in the crook of his neck, placing a gentle kiss there. he found himself willing to chase the feeling of your lips, although he knew it was not the moment.

“put it on for me, please?”

later that night (or was it the wee hours of the morning?), well past the time everyone had gone to bed, chan found himself in the kitchen, trying to make a hot chocolate. he regretted not wearing a shirt over the short, grey sweats he used to sleep the second some hot milk droplets landed on his chest.

“you should be more careful when cooking, mister bang.”

he jolted in surprise, and you couldn’t hide the giggles that left your mouth.

he was about to retort, but when he turned around and saw you wearing his very oversized hoodie over your definitely-not-wintery pyjamas, the words died in his throat.

“do you want some hot chocolate?”

the way your eyes lit up pulled a chuckle out of him, and he went to grab a second cup from the shelf. while he had his back turned to you, you went and hugged him from behind, your arms snaking around his waist and resting on his abs.

“thank you for inviting me here. i don’t think i’ve ever had this much fun over the holidays.”

one of his hands came over your own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“hey, don’t mention it! that’s what… friends are for, right?”

you felt a slight tinge of weariness in his voice, and you couldn’t help the small pang of disappointment in your chest.

“right, friends…”

a relatively comfortable silence fell over the small kitchen of the cabin. while chris finished preparing the beverage, you stayed glued to his back. you could feel his warm skin, the way his muscles moved with every action, the faint sound of a song he was humming.

chocolate now safely poured inside the mugs, the boy turned around.

“wait here a second for me, yeah?”

without even waiting for an answer, he lifted you up and sat you on the counter; then he disappeared in the living room, where faint lights from the christmas tree created shadows over the walls.

he came back a few moments later, a small box in his hand. it was very similar to the one you presented him a few hours earlier.

“i know i should’ve given this to you before, but i didn’t want the guys to make fun of me.”

he laughed while coming closer, and you instinctively parted your legs to allow him to stand right in front of you. the dog tag caught on the dim kitchen light. you smiled.

he started humming a tune again, probably to ease the nerves. you recognized it as chasing that feeling by txt.

you couldn’t contain the giddiness bubbling inside you while carefully unpacking the present. the white box contained a bracelet, whose very thin chain matched that of the necklace you’d gifted him, and the small charm dangling from it was of two hands making a pinky promise.

wordlessly, yet with a warm smile across your features, you moved your arm in front of chris, the bracelet in your other hand. while he was hard at work at unclasping it and wrapping it around your wrist, you caught a glimpse of the two words etched on the back.

“… is it a confession?”

“only if you want it to be.”

the smiles on both of your faces were already enough of an answer, yet the moment needed something more.

one of his hands cupped your cheek, while one of yours gently took a hold of the dog tag.

chris stopped one millimetre away from your lips, still giving you the chance to turn down both his confession and the kiss.

“na sungmyeonga, come and kiss me, i just keep on chasing that feeling.”

with a slight tug on the necklace his soft lips landed on yours.

it was a sweet kiss, all smiles and giggles. your hands came over his wrists while both of his were now holding your face.

and boy, did you both chase each other’s feelings with your mutual pining!

the next morning, no one was surprised to find the both of you sleeping on the couch, necklace and bracelet on full display. apparently, the smiles on your faces were enough for everyone to know that you finally belonged to one another.

© giuliadesu. please do not copy, translate, use in videos or reupload on other platforms and sites. it is strictly forbidden to feed any part of my content to ai.

[rassicas]

Haikara Walker pages 6-17

Scanned by @milkiemilkshake Scans color corrected by @Mk_Squid Posted these on twitter a couple years ago, now here they are on tumblr with some slight adjustments to the wording, and a few more little tidbits translated!

Translations under the cut!

Pages 6-7 A Strange Underground World

(Page 7, main text) After passing through the hustle and bustle of Inkopolis Square, we entered a sparsely populated alleyway. With Spyke tapping away on his laptop with a difficult look on his face in a half-basement glass-walled café, we walked further down the alley and found a passage leading to the underground. Standing in front of the barricade, we listened carefully to the sounds coming out of the underground, the faint rumbling of a train running on rails. Yes, what lies beneath the ground is a subway system, the "Deepsea Metro." Connecting important underground facilities, this essential artery of transportation for life in the Deepsea is almost unknown to the Inkling world. Let's take a long look around this secret-base-esque location.

(Page 6, caption) A Deepsea Metro station. A subway train is about to arrive at the platform. In the corner of the station, which is also an experimental facility, there are a lot of IV sets.

(Page 7, caption) Inside the dimly lit station, a graffiti-painted map of the line welcomes passengers. It may have been created by the groovy deep-sea dwellers who use this line. (Page 6, CQ Cumber and Page 7, Iso Padre Information. i keep trying to put images in here but it keeps breaking so heres a link to this info typeset.)

In the subway cars, you can meet many inhabitants of the Deepsea, who look very different from us Inklings. The appearance of the passengers also seems to change depending on the subway line. Maybe you'll learn something new by observing them? C.Q. Cumber The conductor of the Deep Sea Metro, whose vivid blue body color is eye-catching, gives out CQ points and provides information on the platform at each station. See link for translated notes.

Iso Padre A famous passenger of the Deep Sea Metro, this deepsea isopod uncle loves Mem cakes. His best feature is his whiskers. See link for translated notes

Pages 8-9

(Page 8) The vast Central Station is the main facility that controls the operation of the Deepsea Metro. When you visit the platform, you'll find a single phone installed in the middle of the platform. When you answer the Telephone, you will hear a voice through the speakers that will lead you to the "Promised Land," and you will be given a CQ-80 and CQ card for free. Check it out before you stroll through the subway.

It seems that many of the inhabitants of the Deepsea have a light or transparent body color, probably because they live in the gloomy depths of the ocean. Their fashion sense and use of items that we don't have may make for a good example of how to dress stylishly.

(Page 9) When you turn on the CQ-80, a map of the Deepsea Metro lines will be projected in midair. It's a great way to see at a glance the stations where different lines connect and where the "thangs" are located.

(Page 8-9, bottom) Not translating all these notes. some info: -The dogfish salarymen are described as "ikemen." lol -The deepsea jellyfish are a bit smarter than those on the surface -the ping pong tree sponge lady likes wearing vintage one-piece outfits. her perfume is a bit strong

Pages 10-11

(page 10) The interior lights are exquisitely adjusted to make the neon tubes flowing through the windows look beautiful. The innovative materials used here enhance the viewing experience of the dim atmosphere of the Deepsea.

(Page 11) Deepsea Metro stations are directly connected to the experimental facilities. C.Q. Cumber said happily, "It's very convenient and popular among both the Octarians working at the facility and people living in the Deepsea."

(Page 11, bottom)The interior of the train is designed with accessibility in mind, so that even the inhabitants of the Deepsea, who have larger heads and bodies than ordinary Octarians, can ride comfortably. The conductor spares no effort in moving things around for the passengers.

Page 12

The inhabitants of the Deepsea, who have adapted to the harsh environment brought about by high water pressure, low water temperature, and low oxygen, seem to have evolved unique body parts. It is not easy to copy their cool appearance.

Pages 14-15

(Page 15, Caption) The culture of the Deepsea is different from that of the surface where we Inklings live. After passing through the gates of each station, there are strange items floating around that you may or may not have seen before. To visit the inside of the facility, you need to pay CQ points at the ticket gate.

(Page 14 and 15, bottom) Not translating all these notes. Summary: -Real life sea angels have an inverted triangle shape, that influenced the sea angels in game (labeled "onii-san", big brother) to look all macho. supposed to look like theyre in rugby club at university. -The scalyfoot gastropod is labeled as the "ironclad big sister." Her scales are supposed to look like a shawl. something about a scary feeling of illegality to her (like shes a criminal? not sure) -the barreleye fish gives off the impression of either a baby or an old lady

Pages 16-17

(Page 16) At the experimental facilities outside each station, you can play fun games with the working Octarians. If you are successful, you will receive CQ points, which will allow you to visit more places.

(Page 17) The Deepsea is full of fascinating species and new cultures that are rarely found on the surface. The unique atmosphere of the Deepsea is something that can only be felt by visiting the area. Why don't you take this opportunity to travel to the Deepsea Metro for a weekend?

[fluentmoviequoter]

Speed Limit 2525

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: When Tim Bradford goes head-to-head with a bomber, he finds himself on a bus carrying a bomb and you.

Warnings: spoilers for Speed (1994) (I think this qualifies as an AU/rewrite), angst, bombings, nightmares, death and fear of dying, teasing, fluff, a little make out scene at the end? basically every warning that applies to the movie and The Rookie. I also made up a story about "Reaper"

Word Count: 11.7k+ words

A/N: This isn't completely proofread, but I'll be back soon to check it. I hope you enjoy!🤍

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Shoot him.

Tim doesn’t feel the trigger depress, only the hot desert air beating against his face. Though the trigger doesn’t move, a bullet rips through the barrel and into Tim’s only surviving squad member. He yells to warn his teammate, but no sound comes out. The wind is loud in the desert, yet the sound of Tim’s friend falling against the sand seems to echo for miles.

“Bradford,” the injured soldier coughs. “Wrong target, Reaper.”

Tim’s chest is tight with guilt and anxiety when he wakes. The sheets are wrapped tightly around his legs, and his shallow breaths distract him from freeing himself. Before he has time to orient himself, Tim’s phone rings and snaps him out of his post-nightmare, adrenaline-fueled state as he reaches across the empty pillow to answer it.

“Bradford,” he says.

“Get to the station as soon as you can,” Sergeant Grey demands. “Your Metro captain has me calling everybody in. We’re sending patrol units out, too. It’s gonna be a long day, Tim.”

Tim forgets about the nightmare and the memory within as he rushes to get ready. Tim’s tunnel vision focuses on work, and everything else fades away. Middle-of-the-night calls aren’t unusual, especially for a Metro Sergeant like himself, but this many officers getting a wake-up call is. Whatever is happening is big, and it doesn’t sound to Tim like it will be over any time soon. He makes it to the station in record time, and his commander is directing the other Metro officers when he enters.

“We don’t have time,” she says suddenly. “I’m running this force from here. Sergeant Grey will fill you in on the way. Get to the target location and stick together. Bradford, you’re with Temple!”

Tim nods as Harry Temple walks to his side. Harry was one of Angela Lopez’s first patrol partners, but he decided Metro was a better fit when the time to move forward in his career came along. Like Tim, he was in the Army before becoming a police officer, and he and Tim have some shared experiences. Neither of them is overly eager to bond over them, however.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Tim asks Harry as he turns on the lights and sirens in the shop.

“All I heard was ‘elevator,’” Harry answers. “I’m assuming they’re more to this than that.”

“Listen up,” Sergeant Grey says over the radio. “This is your official brief. When we roll up to the scene, we go straight in. No time for questions after we exit these cars. Fifteen people are trapped on an express elevator. The owner of the building is also inside. A bomb took out the cables, and our bomber is demanding three million dollars, or he blows the emergency brake, too. Cell phone service is spotty in the building, so we can’t rely on that to track anyone or anything.”

“Cell phone service is nonexistent in the elevator. A defensive move against trade secrets,” someone adds.

“What’s our clock, Sergeant?” Harry radios.

“He gave one hour when he called, which leaves us with twenty-eight minutes.”

“The only thing that’ll stop the elevator is the basement, right?” Tim adds.

“The city plans to avoid that. They’re working to release the money.”

Tim stops the shop beside the curb at the front of the building. He leaves the lights on as he and Harry remove their weapons from the back and meet the rest of their tactical team in the lobby.

“We can’t just unload them,” an officer says.

“The bomber wired the elevator doors and the hatch to trigger the bomb. So, he’s crazy, but he ain’t stupid,” Wade explains as he enters.

“Harry volunteers to examine the device,” Tim interjects. “He was on the bomb squad in the Army.”

Harry turns to glare at Tim as he says, “Right. And since Bradford also has Army experience, he’d like to provide a second opinion.”

“Fine,” Wade says. “You two check it out. Hey! Where’s the nearest access panel?”

“32nd floor,” a nearby employee answers on his way out. “It’s in the hall by the storage closet.”

“Report only. We’re in a holding pattern until we get word from your Commander back at the station. Confirm building evac and keep your radios active.”

“What about the other elevators?” Harry asks the employee.

“In an emergency, all passenger cars go to the nearest floor and shut down,” he says.

Tim frowns and moves his gun to his side. “Looks like we’re walking up the stairs.”

Harry nods before sprinting up the stairs behind Tim. Tim outpaces him but waits at the access panel for Harry to arrive with his small tool kit. He begins removing the nuts from the metal cover while Tim watches the hallway. Harry gives Tim a signal and Tim lifts the metal sheet. Light filters into the elevator shaft as Tim crawls through the opening and moves to the top of the elevator, where the bomb rests.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the L.A.P.D.,” Tim announces loudly. “There has been an elevator malfunction. Just relax and we’ll have you out of there as soon as possible.”

Harry looks up from the bomb and raises his hands in question.

“I didn’t lie,” Tim defends.

“I don’t recognize this work, Tim. Whoever our bomber is… he’s a pro and the work is solid,” Harry says.

“Bradford, Temple, hold position,” Wade radios. “We’re waiting to hear back from the bomber.”

Tim looks at his watch and muffles a curse. Their time is nearly out, and Tim continues to look at his watch rather than think about the lives in the metal death trap below his feet.

Harry sees the look in Tim’s eyes and decides to distract him. “Terrorist in a crowded room, five pounds of dynamite. He’s got a deadman’s stick. What do you do?”

“How close am I?” Tim asks, looking away from the elevator.

“Twenty feet.”

“Taser. He can’t let go with enough volts surging through him.”

“Alright, hot shot. Fifty feet?”

“Nice try.”

“Airport, then. Gunman with one hostage, using her for cover. He’s almost on a plane, you’re a hundred feet away.”

“Why is the hostage always a woman in these scenarios? Watch too many romcoms in the academy?”

“What do you do?” Harry repeats.

Tim kneels to examine the bomb once more and remembers his nightmare. Shoot him. He shakes his head before answering, “Shoot the hostage. Take her out of the equation, he can’t get to the plane, and I have a clear shot.”

“You are out of your mind, Bradford.”

“This is wrong,” Tim says suddenly. “He’s gonna blow it. How much do you think this elevator weighs?”

“Why? You wanna try to bench it?”

Tim doesn’t acknowledge the teasing as he adds, “We can do something about the hostages.”

“No shoot them, right?”

“Roof,” Tim reads as he points to a roof access sign. There’s a heavy-duty winch secured to the corner of the roof, and Tim runs to it as he says, “We don’t shoot them. Just take them out of the equation.”

Tim pulls the cable from the winch toward the elevator housing on the roof. He drops it in and watches it fall several feet before it catches.

“It’ll hold,” Tim tells Harry. “It’ll hold,” he repeats, quieter.

“Six minutes,” Harry alerts.

Tim throws his legs over the edge of the housing and lowers carefully onto the elevator cable. He hooks the winch hook to his tactical vest before moving down in the elevator shaft. Wade and the Metro team argue with the city council about releasing the money in the lobby, and no one has a clue that the shooter is listening to their radio frequencies. Without cell phones, they’re completely reliant on their radios to stay in touch with one another. Tim ignores his radio as he flips so he’s headfirst as he nears the trapped elevator.

“One more pop quiz,” Harry begins. “Psycho Sergeant Tim Bradford rigs an elevator to drop thirty stories. What do you do?”

Tim rolls his eyes before gesturing for Harry to hold the winch cable steady. A small pile of C4 waits beside his feet, but Tim ignores it as he secures the cable hook to the frame of the elevator.

“Why did I take this job?” Tim murmurs.

“Hey, a few more decades and you get a tiny pension and a free watch,” Harry answers.

“Hit the switch, Temple.”

Harry runs to the winch, hoping that the cables used to wash windows are strong enough to catch a free-falling elevator. He flips the switch, and the winch begins pulling in the cable. As the extra cable Tim pulled into the shaft begins unspooling, he moves up to the open access panel.

In the basement, a man missing a thumb presses a button on his handheld device. Instantaneously, a red light illuminates on the bomb. Tim sees it and throws himself through the access panel just before the bomb goes off. The passengers begin screaming, but the winch catches the falling elevator before it reaches the bottom of the shaft.

“What is happening, Bradford?” Wade asks, his concern evident over the radio.

“He’s early!” Harry yells as he returns from the roof.

“We have to get them out of the elevator. They can’t be lower than 28,” Tim exclaims.

When he and Harry meet the rest of their team on the 28th floor, they see that the elevator is stranded between floors. Only the floor is accessible from their current position, but there is no time to run up and down the stairs and look for the perfect access point. The elevator passengers lower to the floor and Tim and Harry pull people out one at a time. Tim pulls the last woman to safety seconds before the winch fails and the elevator plummets to the bottom of the shaft. After the sound of impact, Tim and Harry lean back against a wall and pant from the effort they exerted.

“Is your watch slow?” Tim asks.

“Nah. He jumped the gun,” Harry says with a shake of his head. “We had three minutes.”

“He blew more than the elevator. He blew his three million dollars. Why would he do that?”

“Maybe he decided it wasn’t worth it.”

Tim sits up as he declares, “He’s here.”

“He could have blown that thing from anywhere, Tim.”

“He knew we were doing something, that’s why he acted early. That means he’s close.”

“He’s not gonna corner himself in the building. The building we evacuated.” Harry leans his head back against the wall and thinks for a moment before he adds, “He’d want to be here, yes, but stay mobile… The elevators.”

“All of the passenger cars stopped, and we checked them.”

“Did we check the freight elevators?”

Tim’s eyes widen in realization as he and Harry push themselves to stand and run to the freight elevator doors. Once Tim pries the door open, he slides down the cable and lands on top of a car. Harry reluctantly follows and freezes when a noise echoes inside. Tim doesn’t notice Harry behind him as he prepares to enter the elevator. Before he can, a shotgun is fired between them, and Harry falls into the elevator. The man inside knocks him out with the butt of the shotgun, and Tim waits until the elevator moves up to drop in through the roof panel. As he lands, he looks up and sees a shotgun barrel in his face.

“I don’t suppose anybody would pay me three million dollars just for you,” the nine-fingered bomber muses.

He pulls the trigger, but the gun is empty. Tim removes his Glock from his side and demands the bomber lower the shotgun. He does so but opens his coat to reveal dynamite strapped to his chest and a deadman switch detonator in his hand.

“Hotshot,” the man begins. Tim’s jaw clenches as he realizes the man listened to their conversations over the radio, but he can’t say anything before the bomber says, “Terrorist holding a police hostage. He’s got enough dynamite to blow the building in half. What do you do?”

“Fifty cops are waiting for us in the basement,” Tim states.

“Standard flanking, I’m aware.” He presses a button on a device wired into the elevator controls. “So, maybe we’ll get off early.”

The elevator stops at a parking level, and Tim watches as the bomber pulls Harry toward the door. His eyes open slowly, and Tim keeps his eyes on Harry rather than the man pulling him.

“Well, end of the line, Bradford. This day has been a real disappointment, I don’t mind saying.”

“Why? Because you couldn’t kill everyone?” Tim asks.

“There will come a time, hotshot, when you will wish you’d never met me.”

“I’m already there.”

“Look! I have your partner, I’m in charge! I drop this stick and they clean us up with a sponge!”

“Go ahead!” Harry yells. “Drop the stick!” “Shut up!” Tim demands.

Harry looks at Tim and mouths, “Shoot the hostage.”

Shoot him. Wrong target, Reaper. Tim takes a deep breath and shifts his arms to shoot Harry in the leg. He collapses onto the floor, and the bomber steps back in shock before running into the garage. Tim steps over Harry to shoot behind the feeling suspect. As the man reaches the door, he looks over his shoulder to smile at Tim before he disappears. Tim can’t check on Harry as the garage explodes and the force pushes him back against the wall. As Tim collides with the concrete behind him, everything goes dark. And everything changes.

After Harry’s unplanned and involuntary retirement party, Tim nearly oversleeps. His alarm pulls him from a dreamless sleep, and he winces at the sound before turning it off. Before he showers, he decides to go for a quick run to clear his head. Once he’s dressed and ready for the day, he drives to his favorite café. It’s one of the only places in Los Angeles where you can get a decent cup of coffee and breakfast without being surrounded by millennials working on their screenplays. Tim nods at another regular, Vince, as he enters.

“Hey, Tim. You look awful,” Bob, the owner of the café, says.

“Thanks, Bob,” Tim grumbles.

“Pretty boy party too hard?” Vince asks Tim.

“I- I don’t remember that well.”

“Wake up alone?”

“Always do.”

“Must be nice,” Bob interjects. “The last time I partied like that I worked up married.”

Tim shakes his head as he accepts his order and walks out behind Vince. He sets his coffee on top of his truck as he retrieves his keys from his pocket. Vince’s bus starts behind Tim and pulls away from the curb. Tim turns to wave at Vince before unlocking his door.

After it crosses the first intersection, the bus explodes. Tim stumbles as he looks toward the source of the noise. He runs to the bus as it rolls to a stop and fights against the flames to help Vince, but it’s too late. As Tim lays his hands on his knees in shock, he notices an abandoned cell phone lying on the sidewalk behind him. It rings continuously, and Tim doesn’t hesitate before he answers the phone.

“What do you think, Bradford?” the bomber from last month asks. “You think if you and Harry find all the driver’s teeth they’ll give you another medal?”

“Where are you?” Tim demands.

“Twenty-second delay. I’m in the air duct when the garage blows. Did you think I wouldn’t come prepared? I spent two years on the elevator job. Two years. I invested myself in it. You couldn’t understand the commitment I have. A child, Tim, you’re a child. You ruin a man’s life’s work and then think you can walk away. You’ve got blinders on, but I got your attention now. Didn’t I, Tim?”

“Why didn’t you just come after me?”

“This is about money – 3.7 million. Not you and your ego. None of it had to happen, Tim, and I hope you realize that. How long do you think the driver’s wife and kids will wait before they get worried tonight?”

“When I find you, I will kill you,” Tim threatens.

“There’s a bomb on a bus, hotshot. Once the bus hits fifty miles an hour, the bomb is armed. If the bus drops below fifty, it blows up. What do you do?”

Tim doesn’t answer but looks around for any sign of the suspect.

“What do you do?” he repeats.

“I’d want to know what bus it was,” Tim answers. He’s accepted the challenge and knows that it has to end with a death: either his or the bomber’s.

“You think I’m going to tell you that, Tim?”

“Yes.”

“Very good.” The man sounds happy, and Tim presses a hand against a nearby wall to control his anger. “Now there are rules, Tim; we have to do this right. No one gets off the bus. One passenger leaves, I will detonate it. Now, if I don’t get my money by 11 a.m., there’s also a timer.”

Tim looks at his watch: 8:05 a.m. “I can’t pull that money in time-“

“Focus, Tim! Your concern is the bus. Don’t call, the radios are jammed. Number 2525, running downtown from Venice. At the corner of Lincoln and Pico…”

Tim drops the cell phone and runs to his car to follow the bus. The lives on that bus are in his hands, and he doesn’t plan to shoot any hostages today.

“Please stop! Sam!” you yell as you chase your bus.

You don’t want to ride the bus, but since your most recent speeding ticket, it is your only mode of transportation. In the few weeks since your license was suspended, you’ve gotten to know the driver, Sam, and some of the regular passengers. You hope that camaraderie is enough to convince Sam to stop for you. The brakes on the bus squeal as it stops, and the door opens.

“This look like a stop to you?” Sam asks.

“You are an amazing man, Sam,” you say as you walk onto the bus. “The men in books and songs have nothing on you.”

You swipe your bus card and take a seat before saying hello to Ortiz, a regular passenger. Comfortable in your seat, and glad that none of the passengers are in a talkative mood this early on a weekday, you relax and hope to get your car back soon.

Tim drives his truck in and out of traffic, onto the shoulder, and into the emergency lane as he tries to catch up with bus 2525. Other drivers honk their horns, flip him off, and yell insults through open windows, but Tim doesn’t notice or care. If he can stop the driver before it reaches 50, then the bomb will never activate. The only danger would be the man with the detonator.

You look up as Sam slows for a traffic jam.

“Can’t you just drive over them?” you ask with a smile.

“Is it always like this?” a man asks from the back of the bus. “It’s my first time here, and it took me three hours just to get out of the airport.”

“Yep,” you answer. “It’s usually worse.”

“That’s why I never drive,” the woman behind you interjects. “I’d never have a car in this city.”

“I have a car. I miss my car,” you lament.

“In the shop?” the tourist asks.

“Something like that. Sam, seriously, the bus is huge, just run them over,” you say again.

When Tim sees the bus has stopped because of a stalled car ahead, he sighs before he pulls onto the shoulder. He exits his truck and runs toward the bus, but the accident clears faster than he expected, and begins moving before he reaches the door. Hitting his fist against the side, Tim yells for the driver to stop.

“Can’t blame him for wanting to get on the bus,” you mutter as you watch him slap an open palm against the door.

“Get off the doors, man! Wait for the next one,” Sam yells before he speeds up.

Tim removes his badge from his pocket a moment too late. He continues chasing the bus, and you look down at your phone as the other passengers watch the unknown man run down the freeway.

Nearly half a mile from his truck and with no other option, Tim stops and waits at the edge of the road. He sees a speeding sports car approaching, and he moves into the middle of its lane and raises his badge.

“Stop!” Tim yells over the traffic.

The young man driving the car slams on his brakes to avoid hitting Tim. Several cars behind him blow their horns, and he raises to yell over the convertible’s windshield.

“What the-“

“L.A.P.D.,” Tim interrupts. “Get out of the car.”

“This is my car! It ain’t stolen and you have no right!” the driver argues.

Tim pulls his gun from its holster and says, “It’s stolen now. Move over.”

The man nods quickly before he jumps over the console and settles into the passenger seat. Tim sits behind the wheel and swerves into another lane as he ignores the owner’s pleas not to scratch the car. Tim drives the expensive, sporty convertible exactly as he had driven his truck, and the man in the passenger seat covers his eyes in fear for his car more than his life. As Tim steers the car beside the bus, he lays on the horn. Sam looks over and immediately recognizes him, and his eyes widen to prove it.

“I’m a cop!” Tim yells.

Sam lowers the window and raises his voice to ask, “What?”

“L-A-P-D!” Tim spells slowly. “There’s a bomb on your bus.”

“There’s a what?” Tim’s passenger exclaims.

“I can’t hear you,” Sam says.

“There’s a bomb on the bus!” Tim repeats.

Sam shakes his head, and Tim looks at the convertible’s speedometer. He’s over 50, so the bus must be, too.

“Drive!” Tim yells as he gestures for the bus to keep moving. “FIFTY! STAY ABOVE FIFTY!”

Sam nods rapidly and trembles a bit as he holds the speed steady. The commotion draws your attention, and you turn in your seat to watch the man who desperately needs a ride or is crazy.

“Call the Mid-Wilshire division station,” Tim says as he hands his phone to the man beside him. “Ask for Detective Angela Lopez.”

“Okay, okay.” The man speaks into the phone briefly before passing it back to Tim.

“Angela,” Tim says.

“Why are you calling me on your day off?” she asks. “Harry’s here, if you’re looking for him.”

“He’s alive.”

“Who?”

“The bomber! He’s back.”

“Harry!” Angela calls.

“Tim, did he hit the bus in Venice?” Harry asks as he approaches Angela’s desk.

“Temple,” Wade interrupts. “We just got a ransom demand from your dead terrorist. Says he rigged a city bus. Where’s Tim?”

“Where do you think?” Harry replies.

Tim ends the call and navigates around the back of the bus to drive alongside the door. Traffic is increasing with the morning rush, and he doesn’t want to risk getting stuck in another slowdown. He honks to get Sam’s attention, and gestures for him to open the door.

“Drive straight,” Tim directs him. “Stay in this lane.”

Sam agrees before Tim speeds up to get ahead of the bus. He opens the driver-side door and hits the brakes, so the bus rips the door off the car. Tim presses the accelerator again to catch up with the bus as he is yelled at by the owner of the car.

“Take the wheel!” Tim says.

Tim waits until the car’s owner moves back into the driver’s seat to jump into the open bus door and pull himself up the stairs.

When the bus rips the door off a convertible, you finally look up. The man driving the car beside the bus is attractive, but you’re a little concerned for his mental well-being. Sam seems willing to help him, and you don’t understand why. When he jumps from the car and onto the bus, you stand and grip the bar above your head. He locks eyes with you before holding up a police badge.

“Everyone, I’m Sergeant Tim Bradford, L.A.P.D. We’ve got a slight… situation on the bus,” he explains.

“Are you crazy?” you ask.

“Ma'am, if you’ll please sit down, we can deal with this in an orderly-“

“But what are you-“

“Ma’am.”

His tone and the look in his eyes convinces you, so you sit down as Tim walks toward the back of the bus and looks at the other passengers. You watch him move and wonder if he’s truly a cop or just insane.

“Just stay in your seats and remain quiet,” Tim says. “Then we’ll be able to defuse the, uh, the problem.”

A passenger you’ve spoken to before, Jay, leaps from his seat and points a gun at Tim.

“Jay!” you yell worriedly.

“Get away from me!” Jay demands.

Tim pulls his gun and matches Jay’s stance. Two women at the back of the bus scream, and you look between Tim and Jay from your seat.

“I don’t know you, I’m not here for you. Let’s not do this,” Tim says calmly.

“Stop the bus, Sam,” Jay calls.

“He can’t. Look, I’m going to put my gun away.” Tim holsters it slowly and raises his hands to show they’re empty. “I don’t care about what you did. It’s over. I’m not a cop right now. See? We’re just two guys on the bus.”

Tim tosses his badge to the floor beside your feet, and you look at it before raising your eyes to Jay again. You understand why he calmed down so quickly; Tim Bradford has a soothing voice, and his presence is assertive but caring. More importantly, you can relax now, because his badge looks real. Jay’s hands begin to lower, but your fellow passenger Ortiz jumps onto his back before Jay puts it away.

Tim rushes forward as Ortiz tries to pull the gun from Jay. A shot goes off, and everyone ducks before a second shot fires.

“Sam!” someone screams.

You turn toward the front of the bus before moving to help Sam. Tim disarms Jay with minimal effort while another woman joins your side.

“Move him,” you say.

“He’s bleeding,” the woman argues.

“We have to stop the bus!”

At your words, Tim spins quickly to face you.

“No!” he yells. “Stay above fifty.”

“Sam is wounded,” you begin.

“You slow down, and this bus will explode!”

Tim holds your eyes and nods slowly. He’s not kidding, you realize. Turning quickly, you look at the speedometer, which falls to 51. While Sam is still in the seat, you push your foot onto the gas pedal and watch the line rise above fifty.

Tim handcuffs Jay to one of the poles before he explains, “There is a bomb on this bus. If we slow down, it will blow. If anyone tries to get off, it will blow.”

The women on the bus surround Sam and help him get comfortable as they try to slow the bleeding. As they pull Sam from the driver’s seat, you slide into position and steer into another lane to keep the speed over 50.

“We’re only gonna make it through this if everyone stays calm, sits down, and listens to me,” Tim adds.

You don’t hear everything he says, with your complete focus on the road ahead and the speedometer on the dash. Your knuckles are white because of your grip on the wheel, and you don’t hear Tim approach behind you. He lays a hand on the headrest behind you and leans down.

“This is great. A bomb on wheels,” you muse sarcastically.

“Can you handle this bus, ma’am?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just like driving a big Toyota, right?”

“Can you handle it?”

“I’m fine. What’s the plan? Is there a plan?”

Tim nods and stands to his full height. He watches you take a deep breath before turning to the rest of the passengers.

“Everyone, I need your cell phones,” Tim announces.

“No way, man!” the tourist yells.

“There is a terrorist out there with a bomb, and I don’t need any of you live streaming or interfering with the radio signal he could be using to detonate a bomb. So, I will only say this one more time. Phones - and anything else with a cellular connection – now.”

The passengers nod and offer all of their cellular devices. Tim accepts an empty bag from a woman beside Sam and places everyone’s belongings inside. He returns to your side and removes his phone from his pocket.

“Do you have anyone you need to call?” Tim asks softly.

“No. I- I don’t want to think like that,” you answer.

“We don’t have to. Everything’s going to be okay. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

You nod and Tim lays a kind hand on your shoulder to add, “But I need your phone.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s- uh- it’s in my back pocket. Right side.”

Tim’s hand brushes your lower back as he pulls the phone from your pocket. He apologizes, though you can’t imagine why. You’ve only known Tim Bradford for a few minutes, but his words mean something, and you can only hope he keeps the promises he’s making.

“You’re a cop, right?” you ask.

“That’s right. Metro Sergeant,” Tim says. “But you can call me Tim if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Uh, no. Thanks, and you can stop calling me ‘ma’am’ while we’re at it. I just- I should probably tell you that I’m taking the bus because my driver’s license was suspended.”

“What for?”

“Speeding.”

Tim shakes his head and hides his smile before calling the station again. He leans forward, but keeps his hand beside you, to look at the news chopper circling above the bus.

“Lopez, it’s me. I took phones from all the passengers. Where do we start?” Tim asks.

“Alright. Harry and Wade are with me,” Angela replies.

“Check the speedometer, Bradford,” Harry says. “Has it been messed with? Any wires or anything that don’t belong?”

“Sorry,” Tim whispers as he leans in front of you to check the dash area. “No, it’s clean.”

“Then it’s gotta be under the bus. Probably rigged to one of the axles.”

“I can’t get under the bus to check right now. The whole you stop, you die thing. Remember?”

Tim doesn’t sound like he’s kidding; in fact, he sounds grumpier than when he first boarded, but his comment makes you laugh. He pats the back of your seat before turning.

“Sergeant Bradford,” Sam calls weakly. Tim kneels beside him to listen, and Sam stutters, “There’s a- an access panel… in the fl-floor.”

“Hold on, Angela,” Tim says into the phone.

He unscrews the panel and pulls it aside. The asphalt moves quickly under the bus, and Tim looks around before handing his phone to a passenger. You look up in the mirror above you to watch Tim briefly before returning your attention to the road.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Stephen. I’m a tourist,” Stephen introduces.

“Welcome to the City of Angels. Hold my phone, please. Tell my partner what I see.”

Stephen nods and raises the phone to his ear as Tim moves so he can see under the bus. He takes a deep breath; Tim knows a bit about bombs from his time in the Army, but it’s Harry’s expertise.

“Okay, there’s a bundle here,” Tim yells over the wind. “Pretty big.”

“There’s a pretty big bundle,” Stephen relays.

“Brass fittings. I think I can reach the circuit wire.”

“He can reach the circuit wire- No, don’t do that, Sergeant Bradford. It can be a decoy, he says. What else?”

“Hold on,” Tim murmurs before moving further underneath the bus. He sees the extent of the bomb and pulls himself back up to take the phone. “Angela, Harry, there’s enough C4 on this bus to take out everyone on the highway. There’s a wristwatch: gold band, cheap.”

You look back at Tim quickly before inhaling sharply. “Sergeant,” you call.

“What do you think, Harry?” Tim asks.

“Bradford!” you yell into the bus speaker.

Tim moves to your side and places a hand on the dash to lean forward. His face is right beside yours, and you wish you were nervous because of him and not the bomb underneath you.

“Everybody’s stopping,” you point out. “What do I do?”

“Get on the shoulder.”

“This is an exit!”

Tim flinches as you sideswipe several cars.

“Tim!”

“Off. Get off!” Tim yells.

You nearly miss the ramp and pull the wheel to the right to merge onto another road. Honking the horn and yelling for people to get out of the way, you take a deep breath. At least you’re off the freeway. Tim tells you to keep driving as he answers his phone again.

“Where?” he asks. “Got it.”

“Do I stay here?” you inquire.

“Yes. Just straight on this, they’re trying to clear the roads for us.”

“I’m never getting my license back, am I?” you grumble.

“The police commissioner will buy you a car if you ask,” Tim says quietly. “You’re doing well, okay? Don’t worry about anything else.”

You nod and return both hands to the wheel. Tim removes the flannel shirt he’s been wearing, leaving him in a white t-shirt, and drapes it over the back of your seat. Your eyes catch on his biceps before you chide yourself for getting distracted.

One of the phones in the bag rings, and Tim yells, “Who didn’t turn their phone off?”

No one is willing to admit their fault or doesn’t want to risk dealing with Tim’s wrath and ending up like Jay where he sits on the floor. Tim digs through the bag and pulls the ringing phone out. The number is one he recognizes, but he hesitates before answering.

“Taking their phones was smart,” the bomber says as the line connects. “2525… nice passengers, aren’t they? See, that’s the beauty of being in this day and age. I know everything about everyone on that bus. So, if you or your little girlfriend, or even the tourist from Kalamazoo try to double-cross me…”

“The bus explodes,” Tim interjects. “I’m aware.”

“What’s with the attitude, Tim? You’re seeing one of the prettiest places in the world, riding a bus for free… Oh, no, I know. Can’t shoot a hostage that makes that cold heart beat again, huh?”

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want! 3.7 million dollars. I get the money, and then we can both get what we want.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“I know what you don’t want. Tell your girlfriend to keep her eyes on the road.”

The call ends and Tim raises the cell phone in his hands. “He knows who is on this bus.”

“How?” Ortiz asks.

“Your bus passes, your phones, both, maybe. Look, one of the conditions of our survival is that no one gets off the bus. If he knows who you are, then we are even more obligated to keep that promise.”

“You didn’t even try to get us off the bus!” Jay accuses.

“Because he would have blown it. I understand what you are feeling, but I need you to trust me, trust the L.A.P.D., and work with me on this.”

“Tim is this your team?” you ask over your shoulder.

A police car pulls into the lane in front of you as several more flank the sides of the bus. The road clears around them, but more news choppers are joining the airspace above you.

Tim nods and looks at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. What happens now, though?”

“My teammates are working on it. We’ve got gas and open road, so keep driving.”

“Is it- can I be okay and really nervous at the same time?”

“I’d be more concerned if you weren’t nervous.”

“You don’t look nervous.”

“My friend Angela says I never look anything; thinks I can’t show emotion because I can’t feel them.”

“Is it true?”

Tim looks at you and lowers to squat beside you. “No, it’s not.”

“How’s Sam?”

“The driver? He’s gonna be alright. Thanks to you.”

Someone calls for Tim, and he squeezes your shoulder reassuringly as he stands. You glance at him in the mirror as he returns to the access panel. A police helicopter drops to fly above you, and you wonder what the news stations and police officers know or think about the situation. The bus begins losing speed as you steer around a curve, and when you try to speed up again, you realize something is wrong.

Back at the station, Harry and Angela work with Wade and a bomb expert to search for a way to disarm the bomb and for their suspect. Harry has a description of the bomber, but there’s only so much they can learn about the bomb without seeing it.

“Sergeant Bradford!” you cry as you press the gas again.

“What?” Tim asks with wide eyes. You were calling him Tim, and your sudden change of formality and tone concern him.

“The gas pedal’s stuck.”

“What else can go wrong?” Tim asks under his breath. “Move your foot.”

You pull your foot from the pedal and steer as Tim presses his leg against yours to slam his foot down against the pedal. It doesn’t move, and the speedometer dips closer to fifty. Tim moves his hands to cover yours on the steering wheel and moves his leg between yours to try a new angle. You’re close to him, but the fear of dying keeps you from enjoying it in any way. He pushes the pedal again and his shoulders drop.

“There,” he announces as he steps back.

You take the wheel back and press the accelerator down again. The bus gains speed and you catch up to the police car before you.

“Lopez, talk to me,” Tim greets as he answers his phone again.

“You’ve got a hard left coming up,” Angela says. “Really hard.”

“Hard left up ahead,” Tim tells you.

“We’ll tip!” you argue.

“Who is that? Your driver?” Angela inquires.

“We’re not going to tip,” Tim says.

“Yes, we are!”

The curve in the road comes into view, and Tim suddenly agrees, “We’re going to tip.”

He leaves your side to move everyone onto the right side of the bus. The weight distribution keeps the bus from tipping, but as Tim helps you pull the wheel as hard as possible to make the turn, you forget why you were concerned. His presence is the only thing keeping you calm, and you wish he could just sit beside you the whole time.

“Angela, get those news crews off our tail!” he yells over the cheers of the passengers.

You look in the mirror beside you. The news crews must have arrived recently because you didn’t notice them before.

“On it. Harry’s working with the bomb squad. Keep it fifty,” Angela responds.

“Don’t try to make that a thing, Lopez,” Tim says before he ends the call.

“Hey, who’s doing this?” you ask Tim.

“The bomber? He’s just a guy who’s angry with me for foiling his last bombing attempt,” Tim explains.

“So, he’s trying again? Using you to get whatever it is he wants?”

“More or less.”

“What if you stop him again?”

“We do this again tomorrow. Until one of us dies trying.”

“That won’t work.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not available to drive tomorrow.”

Tim nods but doesn’t reply before a flatbed truck merges into the lane beside the door. His Metro captain and two officers are on the back, and the driver blows the horn to get his attention. Tim opens the door and moves out of the door to talk to them. You can’t hear much but suspect that they want to get the hostages off the bus, which Tim already said was impossible. Your sudden and unbending trust in him should probably concern you, but you will do anything and everything he tells you, even if that means staying on a bus with a bomb on it.

“He called the station looking for you,” an officer announces.

“Why? He has my cell,” Tim says.

“Maybe it died.”

“Just give him my number again! And keep looking; find this guy so we can move these people.”

Tim steps onto the main platform again and closes the door.

“Are they going to help us?” the woman holding Sam’s head up asks.

“Sure, they will. They’re the police,” someone jokes.

Another phone rings in the bag, and Tim pulls your phone out this time. He hadn’t thought to turn yours off because he was concerned about you and wanted to make sure you could drive like the bus needed to be driven.

“Hello?” he answers.

“Tim, you know I trust you. But it looks to me like you’re trying to move passengers off the bus,” the bomber says.

“I need one as an act of faith,” Tim argues. “The driver has been shot.”

“You shot another hostage?”

“He’s dying! If you want your money, show a little charity.”

The line is quiet for a moment before the bomber says, “Fine. You can try to get the driver off. I have more people to kill. Tell your girlfriend behind the wheel not to slow down or he won’t get a chance to bleed out.”

“We’re getting the driver off,” Tim announces after returning your phone to the bag. “Just him for now.”

Ortiz moves out of the seat to help Tim move Sam to the door and onto the truck.

“Get as close as you can,” Tim says. “A little closer.”

The side of the bus hits the truck and swerves, and you rush to apologize.

“It’s okay.” Tim says your name, and you know that he means what he says. “Perfect! Hold it steady!”

You sigh as Tim walks past you again after getting Sam to safety, but then you see a woman walking toward the door. The officers on the truck reach out to help her, unaware of what will happen if she steps off the bus.

“No!” you yell.

“I have to,” she responds.

“No! Don’t get off! Stop!”

An explosion echoes through the bus as the steps fall out and go underneath the bus. The female passenger disappears after she falls with the debris, and you look away quickly as Tim falls forward trying to catch her.

“You’ve got to get those choppers out of here!” Tim yells to his captain. “He’s watching!”

The bus is silent as Tim stands up and waits beside you. With your eyes on the road, he doesn’t see the tear that leaks out. When the passengers start arguing behind you, your grip on the wheel tightens.

“Hey!” Tim calls as he turns to face them. They silence, and he moves his attention to you. “How are you doing?”

Tim steps forward, sees the tears covering your face, and squats with an arm behind you. “What can I do?”

His voice is softer than when he yelled at the men behind you, and you can’t lie to him.

“I thought that was the bomb. When I heard it… I thought everything was over. But then I saw her fall under the bus, and-“

“You’re glad you’re still alive,” Tim finishes.

“I’m so sorry. Does that make me a terrible person?”

“No. It doesn’t mean you don’t care. We’re still alive, and we’re all allowed to be thankful for that. The guy who put us here? He’s a terrible person. Don’t think that you’re a bad person. You’re not.”

“Tim,” you say before pointing to his Captain, who is waving for his attention.

“There’s a gap in the freeway. It’s big. We have to get these people off, Tim,” he says.

“You know I can’t, Captain.”

“Tim?” you ask as he walks past you. “What’d he say?”

“There’s a gap in the road,” Tim tells everyone.

“How big is a gap?” Ortiz asks.

“50 feet, a couple of miles ahead,” Tim says.

“Tim?” you repeat. “What if I shift down and just keep the engine revving?”

“He thought of that… Floor it.”

“What?”

“There’s an interchange, maybe there’s an incline. Just floor it.”

“Okay.”

“Everyone keep your heads down.”

The police car leading you falls off the side, but you continue driving toward the unfinished overpass. The needle on the speedometer nears 70, and Tim waits beside you. As you approach the end, Tim yells for everyone to hold on. He puts his arms around you and pulls your head down with his. You feel weightless for a moment, grounded only by his arms around you before the bus collides with the other side of the interchange. Looking up over Tim’s arm, you see more road ahead and press the gas again, so you don’t slow down.

Your forehead begins to burn and hurt, and you press your palm against your temple as the people behind you cheer. Tim checks on everyone before returning to your side, and he immediately realizes that you’re in pain. He moves your hand and presses the bottom of his shirt to your head. It’s stained with blood when he pulls his hand away, and you grimace at the idea of a wound on your head.

“Get off here!” Tim calls suddenly.

“Yes! Get off!”

You obey and soon enter the Los Angeles International Airport. Tim gives you directions to an emergency runway and explains that you can simply drive here. Without traffic or road closures, the only concern is staying above fifty.

Being in restricted air space is also a bonus, and you notice that the news helicopters are hovering at a distance. Tim seemed concerned about the presence of news cameras, so maybe the location will also keep the bomber from knowing exactly what is happening.

“Yeah?” Tim asks as he answers his phone.

“The airport. Well done. You had some close calls, but you did well, Tim,” the bomber says.

“What do you want?”

“My money. Help me get it before it’s too late, will you? The negotiators think I’m doing this for fun?”

“Are you not?”

“Oh, now you think you know me too?”

“I know you want money you didn’t earn. More than you deserve.”

“I did earn it! I got a medal, too, you know.”

“Let me off. If you want my help, I need to explain that you’re not bluffing. Just me.”

“Alright. But you have to come back. I can see everything; remember that.”

Tim ends the call and slides his phone back in his pocket.

“There’s a plan now?” you ask.

“Maybe. He’s letting me off,” Tim says.

“Hey, don’t forget about us,” you call as he steps off the bus and onto an SUV. “He’ll be back,” you promise the others.

While you circle the airport runways, Tim works with the other officers he told you about to find a way to disarm the bomb. Ortiz walks to your side and looks out at the airport.

“Ortiz?” you ask.

“He’s not coming back, I’m telling you,” he says.

“He didn’t have to get on in the first place. Hey, get behind the yellow line.”

Ortiz looks down and takes on short step back. “You let the cop up here.”

“What is that?” Stephen asks as he joins Ortiz.

“I have no idea,” you answer as you look at Tim standing on the back of a truck covered in machinery. It pulls over in front of you, and Tim lowers onto a cart attached to a winch, and you mutter, “I was right. He is insane.”

“How’d they get that so fast?” Stephen asks under his breath.

You focus more on driving in a straight line as Tim disappears under the front of the bus. He looks up at you just before he disappears, and you nod once. Knowing that he’s under the bus makes you more nervous to drive than you have been at any other point today. Driving in a straight line at the airport is more stressful because Tim is underneath a moving vehicle and touching a bomb. You know he has friends and colleagues who are helping him, but you feel more than a need to survive when you look at Sergeant Tim Bradford.

The winch on the truck releases suddenly, and the cable unfurls.

“Check and see if he came out the back!” you demand. “Can you see him?”

“He’s not back here!” Ortiz calls.

“Look under the bus! Back by the tires!”

“I don’t see him.”

The winch cable snaps and the back tire bounces over something. You press a hand over your mouth in shock, and Ortiz runs to the back access panel.

“Please tell me he’s alright!” you yell. “Do you see him?”

“I see him!” Ortiz responds. “He’s alright!”

You look back and forth between the empty runway and the back of the bus. Ortiz and Stephen pull Tim up onto the bus, and you can’t decide whether to be angry or relieved with him. Tim thanks Ortiz before walking to your side.

“How are you?” he asks.

“You scared me!” you accuse. You slap his vest to express your displeasure before hissing in pain. “What’s that smell?”

“Gas. We have a new leak.” “You caused a leak?”

“It was that or get run over. You can see the difficulty I had choosing.”

“Don’t try to be funny right now. I thought I killed you.”

“I’ll ask my captain to get a fuel truck.”

“Will it work?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re not exactly comforting, you know that?”

“You just hit me and now you want comfort?”

You sigh and look at him again before saying, “Thank you, Tim.”

“Just doing my job… ma’am.”

Tim stays beside you while Harry and a S.W.A.T. team infiltrate the house listed on the bomber’s records. He was surprised by how quickly they found his identification, but now that they have the element of surprise, he hopes that this game is almost over.

 When he gets another call, you can only see the anger in his eyes as he listens to the person on the other end. The bomber tells Tim that Harry and the S.W.A.T. team walked right into his trap. You watch him and can only wonder what is making him so mad. His life is in danger, but something is capable of pushing him even further, it seems.

“I’m going to rip your spine out. If you know as much as you think you do, you know I can,” Tim threatens lowly.

“Oh, I do, Reaper. That’s why you should do what you’re told. You and I both know you can’t do it without Harry and his ability to follow a cheap watch, anyway. Get me my money and it’s over. Otherwise, you, lumberjack-ie, and the others are dead. Got that?”

“Yeah,” Tim says after a moment. “Howie.”

The bomber hesitates at the mention of his real name but doesn’t let it stop him. Tim listens to Howard Payne’s demands before ending the call. Tim turns around and kicks where the stairs used to be before pulling against the handrail in his anger. You try to get his attention over his yelling, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Tim! Please!” you try again. “I can’t do this without you. Please.”

Tim slows his movements before gripping the rail beside you. His jaw is clenched as he looks at you, but your pleas soften his eyes.

“Please stay with me,” you whisper.

“We’re going to die,” he says.

“No. You got us this far, right?”

Tim leans against the dash beside you and looks at you. His shirt is still behind you. Lumberjack-ie. Your little girlfriend.

“Lumberjacks wear flannel, right?” Tim asks.

“Uh, yeah. As far as I know,” you answer. “Why?”

“He can see you.”

“What?”

“Keep looking straight ahead.”

You turn your face to the windshield and watch the runway as Tim examines the top of the bus. He sees the camera at the top of the windshield and shakes his head.

“He said, ‘your girlfriend behind the wheel’ and ‘lumberjack-ie’. I didn’t even realize. There’s a camera in your face. He can see the whole bus.”

“He can see me, but can he hear me?” you ask.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Bus cameras can’t be very high-tech, Tim. Can’t your people get it on a loop or something?”

“You’re brilliant,” Tim murmurs before pushing himself off the dash and to his feet. “Guys, there’s a camera over my left shoulder. I need everyone to sit still. No big movements, no talking, just look concerned and sit still.”

He calls his captain and asks for someone to approach the news trucks at the fence to end the live broadcasts and use their equipment to make a video loop. His captain agrees and texts Tim with an update that the reporters are cooperating.

“Remember, stay relatively still. Just look scared,” Tim reminds everyone.

“That won’t be hard,” Ortiz grumbles.

Tim leans beside you while the video is being recorded. You drive in silence for a minute before noticing the blinking red light on the dash.

“Tim,” you whisper. “Look.”

“Cap, roll the tape. We need fuel,” Tim says into his phone.

“We only have a minute recorded. That won’t convince him, we need more footage” Wade argues.

“No time. Get these people off before this bus runs out of gas.”

“Fuel tanker is running behind. Driver said big rigs need radio signals, and they’re still jammed. Crazy not stupid, right?”

“Right.”

“Now what?” you ask Tim. “Are you tired of that question yet?”

“I’d like an answer to it,” he replies. “Get alongside this bus, okay?”

You nod and drive steadily alongside an LAX passenger bus. Tim’s team lays a wooden board between the bus doors and helps people cross to safety. You listen to Tim encourage the passengers across and are glad he was the cop who got on the bus today. The rear tire blows out suddenly, and you pull the steering wheel back to the middle and yell for Tim to come help.

Tim falls on his way back to the front of the bus, but when he reaches you, he moves his arms across you to pull the wheel.

“Use this to hold down the gas pedal,” he says.

You take the device from his hand and lower it into place. Tim steps back to tie the steering wheel to the floor of the bus, and you steer to keep the bus straight while he works. The moment it’s secure, he pulls you to your feet and tells you to get on the metal access panel.

“I can’t do this,” you argue.

Tim raises his hands to either side of your neck and brushes his thumbs along your skin as he promises, “Yes, you can. I’m right here with you.”

You swallow nervously and nod before sitting on your escape route, a thin piece of metal that Tim moved with no problem. Tim moves to lay over you, and he wraps an arm around your waist as you hide your face against his shoulder.

“I got you,” he promises once more.

The bus turns and the access panel cover falls out of the bottom. You clutch Tim tightly as the metal door slides across the runway and into a nearby patch of dirt. He sits up and watches the bus slow as it nears a plane but doesn’t let go of you. Just before the bomb detonates, Tim pulls you down again and lays over you to protect you from any debris. Sirens echo in the distance, and you wrap your arms around Tim’s back.

“Are you alright?” he asks again.

“No,” you answer, your first honest answer of the day. “Oh, I hate the airport.”

Tim moves to your side but keeps an arm around your shoulder as he looks into your eyes.

“You can’t get mushy on me. You can’t show emotion, remember?” you tease.

“I think I might be able to after all.”

“Relationships that start like this never last. It’s just the high-stress, adrenaline pumping, all that.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe we can change that.”

“Uh, I think your friends are here.”

Tim looks up but doesn’t move as Angela and Wade exit a police car and run toward him.

“I was worried about you,” Angela says. “And here you are.”

“I’m sorry about Harry,” Tim offers. “I wish we could have changed it.”

“You good?” Wade asks. “’Cause I might be a nice guy and let you take the rest of the day off.”

“And stop worrying about what we could have done differently. You saved a lot of lives today, Timothy,” Angela adds.

“A day off sounds like a good deal,” you murmur.

Tim shakes his head before introducing you to Detective Angela Lopez and Sergeant Wade Grey. When he finally stands and sees the scrapes and gashes littering your skin, he forces you to let a paramedic treat you. Tim follows you to the ambulance but hangs back to talk to Angela. He’s lost a partner before, too, and knows what it’s like.

“I’m sorry for bringing everyone into this. Howard could have just come for me,” Tim concludes.

“I appreciate everything,” Angela responds. “But, you’re going to the hospital, too. Is that Chen?”

Tim turns quickly and sees Lucy running toward the police cruiser parked behind the ambulance.

“Sergeant Grey!” she yells. “We’ve got Payne on the line, and he wants to know when he’s getting his money. Whoa, Tim, are you alright?”

“He doesn’t know,” Tim says. “He doesn’t know the bus exploded.”

“Tell him thirty minutes,” Wade alerts all the nearby officers.

“Stay in the ambulance,” Tim tells you.

“But I-“

“Ma’am, stay in the ambulance.”

You nod and climb into the ambulance after refusing help from the paramedics. They continue bandaging a cut on your leg as Tim climbs in.

“I need to make a quick stop on the way to the hospital,” he tells the driver.

“Where?” she asks.

“The drop spot. Pershing Square.”

The driver reluctantly agrees, and you watch Tim as she drives. He demands you stay in the ambulance until he returns, and you agree but don’t mean it. You’ve been beside Tim for most of the morning, and you neither remember how to be away from him nor do you want to. You stand on the sidewalk beside the ambulance and watch people move around you. It’s another normal day for them, but your life will never be the same after today.

“Miss, you can’t stand here, you need to move back,” an older officer says as he grabs your shoulders.

“Oh, I’m waiting for Tim-“

“Tim Bradford, yes. He asked that I move you out of harm’s way.”

“But he told me to stay here.”

His hold on your shoulders tightens as he says, “And I’m telling you to move.”

“Payne is late,” Angela complains.

“He’s not late,” Tim says. “He’s never late.”

“Two hundred cops are watching that sculpture, plus a tracker in the bag. He hasn’t been here,” Wade explains.

“Turn on the tracker,” Tim requests.

“What for?”

“Just do it!”

Wade presses a button on the laptop before him, and the blinking light of the tracker travels across the screen.

“He’s got the money,” Angela says.

Tim runs out of their hiding spot and to the drop spot. He pushes the art installation over and kicks it when he sees the opening in the sidewalk beneath it. As he drops into the defunct subway system, he sees someone walking farther into the tunnel and pulls his gun.

“L.A.P.D. Freeze!” he yells.

The person stops, and he aims at their head before saying, “Pop quiz. Someone has a clear shot at your head. What do you do?... Turn around.”

“If you don’t do it, I’ll kill Tim Bradford,” Howard Payne threatens as he secures a vest covered in dynamite around your chest. “What are you going to do?”

“Wait- wait for him to come in and walk away. Then I listen to you,” you answer shakily.

“Perfect. Maybe you two can have your happily ever after all. You say one word that I don’t like and you’re both dead.”

Howard disappears down the subway, and you bite your bottom lip to refrain from crying or screaming for help. Tim may shoot you, no questions asked, but at least he will be safe. When you hear something crash above you and sunlight infiltrates the dark staircase before you, you take a deep breath and begin walking away.

Tim’s voice doesn’t carry the same comforting words or soothing lilt as in the bus, but you still recognize it and want to hear it as he yells at you.

“Turn around!” he demands.

You turn slowly and can see the moment Tim realizes he’s pointing his gun at you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

The apology echoes off the concrete walls as Tim lowers his weapon. You don’t see or hear him, but you can feel the change when Howard appears behind you.

“Be prepared!” Howard says as he walks up the stairs behind you and raises the detonator, a deadman’s switch. “What are you gonna do, Tim? I don’t think you can shoot this hostage.”

“Let her go,” Tim demands as he points his gun at Howard.

“I don’t think I’m going to do that. Move the money,” he tells you.

You transfer the money from the L.A.P.D. bags and into Howard’s duffel bag as Tim yells at him to let you go.

“You don’t need her!” Tim adds.

“I will let go,” Howard threatens as he moves the detonator switch. “You don’t get it, Tim. Do you know what a bomb that doesn’t explode is? It’s the cheap, gold watch they gave me after I lost a finger and a life to my country.”

“You’re crazy.”

You push yourself against the wall as you listen to their exchange, but you keep your eyes on Tim rather than the bomb just below your chin. Howard demands you take his money and enter another part of the tunnel system and you know that you’re going to obey because he’ll kill Tim if you don’t. You tear your eyes from Tim and walk exactly where Howard leads you.

As you enter a crowded stop, Howard fires several shots into the concrete ceiling as you drop your head and cover your ears. The subway passengers waiting for the next train flee in terror as you try to get away from Howard. Tim can’t be far behind, but when you’re pushed into a subway car, you’re tempted to think that no help is coming. Howard handcuffs your hands around a pole before the subway lurches into motion.

At the back of the subway, Tim struggles to pry a set of doors open before he falls into the car. He moves strategically through the empty rows of seats with his mind on you and ending this game with Howard Payne once and for all.

The subway conductor reaches for his radio, and Howard forces the deadman switch into your hands and tells you to hold it. He turns his back on you and kills the conductor as you struggle to move away.

“Look, you won. You beat Tim, you beat everybody, you can just throw me off the train. I don’t care,” you plead.

“You see this stick? When you explode, the police will come there. But that’s not where I’ll be, so I get more time. I promise it won’t hurt,” Howard replies as he pulls the detonator away from you.

A series of dull thuds echoes, and Howard looks up quickly. He smiles, and it makes your stomach flip.

“Hey, Tim. Is that you?” he asks. “He’s so persistent. Wouldn’t be able to interest you in a bribe, would I, hotshot?”

Howard kneels and opens the duffel bag full of cash. You watch as a dye pack explodes in his face and paints his money purple. In his anger, he fires bullets into the roof, and you drop to the floor as Tim rolls out of the line of fire. Howard runs through a door, and you can only listen as he climbs onto the roof and begins struggling against Tim.

Howard has the deadman stick in his hand and can kill you by moving a centimeter to the left or right, but you’re more worried about Tim with every noise against the roof. You stay low on the pole you’re cuffed to, twisting your wrists and manipulating your fingers as you try to slip free. The struggle above you silences suddenly, and you watch the door nervously.

“Tim!” you call when he rushes in. “Tim. Where’s Payne?”

“Uh, he lost his head. Turn around,” Tim says.

You circle the pole, and Tim rips a wire free before loosening the straps of the vest.

“Let’s take this off,” he says before pulling the vest away from your chest.

“Tim, can you hear me?” someone asks through the driver’s radio. “This is Wade. Listen, the track isn’t finished.”

“What else can go wrong?” you murmur.

“Wade, I copy,” Tim radios.

“Do you copy? Try the emergency brake.”

“I copy!” Tim tries again before throwing the radio down.

He steps to the right and hits the emergency brake. After the train doesn’t even slow, he begins hitting other buttons, but nothing happens.

“None of this works!” he exclaims as he hits the control board.

He turns away from the useless machinery and returns to you. When he notices the handcuffs holding you in place, he slows.

“You can uncuff me and we can get off,” you say with an exaggerated nod.

“I don’t have a key,” Tim replies.

“You don’t have…”

You trail off and look at the handcuffs. If only you could slip your hands through them, you think. Tim begins pulling and kicking the pole as you try again to pull your hands through the metal cuffs. He pauses and lays a hand against your arm to look at how tight the cuffs are.

“Help me pull,” you grunt as you lean your weight back against the restraints.

“No, no,” Tim says quickly as he pulls you forward. “You’re just hurting yourself.”

You stand still and see a bead of blood running down your fingers. As you stare at it, Tim walks to a map on the wall. He remembers the nightmare again; a series of bad memories that end with him, “the Reaper,” standing alone in the desert before being rescued and awarded a medal. As he searches for a way to save you, Tim decides that he will never shoot the hostage again, and he won’t leave you behind, even if that means dying with you.

“Tim, please just go,” you beg.

“There’s a curve ahead. I can make it jump the track.”

“Tim! Sergeant Bradford!” Tim turns to you, and you repeat, “Get off this train. You can still jump. Tim, please. Please.”

Tim ignores you as he returns to the controls and increases the train’s speed. You slide your hands down the pole as you sit on the floor, and Tim walks silently to your side. He leans in beside you, and you raise your arms to wrap around his neck as you lean your head against his. He moves his arms around the pole to circle you and holds you tight as the train picks up speed.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper just before the lights go out.

The train car hits something and spins, but Tim tightens his arms around you. With every bump and move of the subway, you become more convinced that you’ll never get out of this position. Light enters the windows as you crash through something, and the car flips onto its side as it lands on asphalt. The impact loosens the pole, and you fall onto Tim, whose grip on you doesn’t waver for a second. As the car slides to a stop, you squeeze Tim and take a deep breath.

“You didn’t leave me,” you say before forcing yourself to open your eyes.

Tim cradles the back of your head before moving his hands to your back. You lean up gently and look into his eyes again.

“I told you to leave me!”

“I didn’t have anywhere to be just then. Rest of the day off and all,” Tim responds before pulling you down against him.

He kisses you, and you’re surprised that it is more than adrenaline. The kiss is more than a relief to be alive, and you want to feel Tim Bradford at your side every day for the rest of your life (which would have ended today if not for him). You move your hands to Tim’s short hair as you return his kiss. It’s relief, joy, love, and passion in a single touch. When Tim begins breathing heavily against you, you move up.

“I’ve heard relationships that start during intense situations like this never work,” Tim says.

“Oh,” you sigh. “Then I guess we’ll be the first.”

“Whatever you say, ma’am.”

Glass rains down on you as you kiss Tim again, and though your day went nothing like you thought it would, it’s now the best day of your life. Tim helps you stand as his team approaches the scene, and you stop him before you exit the car.

“You know if this was a movie, they’d make another one where the same thing happens again, right?” you say softly.

“We’re never taking public transportation again,” Tim states.

“Yeah. Hey, where is the truck you were driving this morning?”

Tim hesitates and tightens his arm around your waist before turning away to yell, “Chen! I need you to do something for me.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Naomi Kritzer's "Liberty's Daughter"

Tomorrow (November 22), I'll be joined by Vass Bednar at the Toronto Metro Reference Library for a talk about my new novel, The Lost Cause, a preapocalyptic tale of hope in the climate emergency.

There's so much sf about "competent men" running their families with entrepreneurial zeal, clarity of vision and a firm confident hand. But there's precious little fiction about how much being raised by a Heinlein dad would suuuck. But it would, and in Naomi Kritzer's Liberty's Daughter, we get a peek inside the nightmare:

https://fairwoodpress.com/store/p148/LIBERTY%27S_DAUGHTER.html

Beck Garrison is a seasteader, living on a floating platform built by libertarian cranks to get away from big government, taxes, and the idea that people owe each other care and consideration. Various kinds of market trufans have built their own fiefdoms: there's a sin city, a biotech free-for-all, a lawless Mad Max zone, and so on.

Beck's father, Paul, is some kind of local functionary. He's wealthy and respected, both a power-broker and a power in his own right. He pays for Beck to get private tutoring (no public schools – no public anything) and if she needs bailing out from some kind of sticky situation, he's got her on his account with Alpha Dogs, the toughest mercenaries on the sea (no police, either). An armed society is a polite society, after all.

Beck has a job, naturally (there ain't no such thing as a free lunch). She's a finder: for all that the steaders worship commerce as a sacrament consecrated to the holy Invisible Hand, there's not a lot of retail at sea. California – the nearest onshore neighbor – has lots of pesky taxes, and besides, it's a long ways off. Besides, space is at a premium on the stead, so people don't have attics and basements to fill with excess consumer junk.

Instead, when a steader needs something – a shoelace, a fashion accessory, or any other creature comfort – they hire a finder like Beck to clamber around between the decks of the aircraft carriers, scows, yachts and other vessels comprising the stead. It's a good way for Beck to earn spending money, and she's a natural at it. After all, she's been a steader since she was four, when her mother died in a drunk driving accident and her father took her to sea.

The story opens with a finding job. Beck wants a pair of sparkly shoes for her client, and the woman who owns them is an indentured servant whose sister has gone missing. Find the sister, get the shoes.

Indentured servant? Yeah, of course. Freedom of contract is the one freedom from which all the others flow, so you can sell yourself into bond labor. Hell, maybe you can earn enough to buy a share in the stead and become a co-owner/citizen.

This is the setup for Beck's adventure, which sees her liberating bond slaves tricked into fatal work details, getting involved in reality TV production, meeting illegal IWW organizers, and becoming embroiled in a pandemic that threatens the lives of all the steaders. It's a coming of age novel, told with the same straightforward, spunky zeal of Heinlein's juvies, but from the perspective of the daughter, not the dad.

Kritzer makes it clear that growing up under the thumb of a TANSTAAFL-worshipping, self-regarding, wealthy autocrat who worships selfishness as the necessary precondition for market clearing would be a goddamned nightmare. She also thinks through some of the important implications of life in one of these offshore libertarian archipelagos, like the fact that the wealthy residents would be overwhelming drawn from the ranks of corporate criminals and tax-cheats, and the underclass would be bail-skipping proles ensnared in the War on Drugs.

But Liberty's Daughter isn't a hymn to big government. Most of the steaders are escaping the US government, a state whose authoritarian and cruel proclivities are well-documented. Kritzer uses the labor dispute at the core of the novel to reveal market authoritarianism – the coercive power that hunger and poverty transfers from the have-nots to the haves. Think of Anatole France's wry observation that "the law, in its majestic equality, equally forbids the rich as well as the poor to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal bread."

If you're familiar with Kritzer's work, you won't be surprised to learn that she tells a zippy, fast moving tale that smuggles in sharp observations about the cleavage lines between solidarity and selfishness. Her story "So Much Cooking" – published years before the pandemic – captured life under lockdown with eerie prescience:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/17/pack-of-knaves/#so-much-cooking

More recently, her "Better Living Through Algorithms" is a dazzling display of knifework that'll cut you a dozen times before you even notice that you're bleeding:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/02/wunderkammer/#jubillee

If you habitually read Kritzer's short fiction, Liberty's Daughter might be familiar to you, as it is adapted from a series of stories that originally ran in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. Kritzer's YA debut, Catfishing on the CatNet, was also adapted from a short story, "Cat Pictures Please," which won the Hugo Award in 2016:

https://boingboing.net/2019/11/19/setec-astronomy-kitteh.html

"Libertarian exit" – buying a country, or an archipelago, or just a luxury bunker – has been in the air lately. It's a major element of my new novel, The Lost Cause, which came out this month – anarchocapitalist wreckers try to sabotage the Green New Deal from the seastead they've moored to the tallest point in the drowned Grand Caymans and declared to be a sovereign nation:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865939/the-lost-cause

Kritzer is great at catching that zeitgeist. Seasteading is part of a long, bitter dream of a certain kind of selfish person to escape society, a tale told in lurid and fascinating detail in Raymond Craib's 2022 history Adventure Capitalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/14/this-way-to-the-egress/#terra-nullius

There's a longstanding joke to the effect that you can shut down any discussion of the merits of a libertarian exit by asking three questions about the brave new world:

Whether you can sell your organs;

Whether you can sell yourself into slavery; and

Whether there is any age of consent.

Kritzer tackles the first two, but tacks around the third. Instead, by giving us a young adult protagonist who has been raised in a rusting libertopia, she finds a decidedly less incendiary way to think about the role of autonomy in adolescents, and thus generates far more light than heat.

The result is a cracking read with a sting in its tail.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/21/podkaynes-dad-was-a-dick/#age-of-consent

[chqolan]

Comfort at night — Ed x Reader

A/N: this was something i had written up for a while in my drafts and i’m finally posting it! unfortunately there was a weird error that happened and i had to redo the last bit of this, so apologies if it feels rushed </3

TW: gn reader, fluff, a bit of angst, ed and reader are friends ! , mentions of that card game ed talks about in world tour, author can’t write to save her life

recently his nightmares had become more frequent than usual for the first time in a while. every night felt the same — constantly bursting awake, feeling dizzy, out of breath and covered in sweat… he felt like such an idiot, like a stupid little kid who couldn’t sleep alone.

ed let’s out a sigh and grabs his phone from the nightstand as he sits up against his headboard. he glanced at the time, ‘just 1:00 am…’. with a swift motion of his thumb, he unlocks his phone and opens his messaging app. from there he sees a series of texts he’s yet to respond to, but he didn’t have time for that right now.

he glanced over your contact, contemplating wether or not he should be bothering you at this hour…

‘you up?’

to his surprise, he seen the typing icon appear from your end of the screen almost instantly.

‘yup! i might get ready to sleep soon though.’ he only watched as you continued typing, ‘did you need something?’. ed sighed and forced himself to respond in a ‘normal’ way.

‘can’t sleep.’

you glance at his response and bite the inside of your cheek, waiting to see if he’d say anything else. though after a minute or so, you caught the hint that he had no intentions of continuing. both you and ed have been familiar with each other for quite some time after he helped you with beating up some weird creeps who were following you around in the subway.

since then, the two of you had become mutual friends. he’s opened up about his past, but did so very cautiously as he didn’t want to scare you away. ed wouldn’t ever admit it — but it was comforting to have a friend who wasn’t fully involved in his past or his crazy line of work. comfort was also something that ed was never used to receiving during his years growing up… the feeling was still quite foreign, but he only ever felt it with you.

‘wanna come over to my place, then? i don’t mind staying up a bit longer.’

‘plus, it feels like a while since you’ve last swung by metro city. we should enjoy your time here together while we can!’

ed reads over your messages and hums to himself. will he ever get used to the gratitude and kindness you show him? he always tends to ask himself that same question…

‘yea, you’re right.’

‘i’ll head on over right now.’

the next thing he knew, he was at the front door to your apartment. he held a blank stare and slowly held up his fist to softly knock (more like bang) at the door. the sound of the lock fumbling from the other end was heard and you cracked the door open to take a peak. once you notice it's ed, you fully open up your door to welcome him inside.

your place was so clean and organized compared to his, he thought. just by stepping inside he felt a wave of comfort wash over him. ed makes his way over to your couch and plops down with a sigh. you could tell how exhausted he was just by looking at him...

although you didn't know the details of everything, you knew that ed has been through (and still puts up with) a lot. you'd never be able to relate to his struggles like his neo shadaloo group could, but you made sure to give him all of your comfort and support for whenever he needed it.

"i know you're not one for small talk, so i'll get to the point..." ed keeps his eyes on the blank tv screen in front of him, but you knew he was listening. you take a seat next to ed and turn your full attention to him. "what's going on? you don't look like you're holding up too well, ed." you noticed from the moment you opened the door that he looked in worse shape than usual.

the bags under his eyes made it apparent that he's been lacking proper rest time, and his pale skin was scattered with red patches, along with what you could only assume to be bruises. knowing ed, he most likely wouldn't bother to take some time off and take care of himself.

the boxer was hesitant to respond. he didn’t know how to communicate very well, and the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally lash out at you. ed looks in every direction except yours and you notice his leg started to bounce… was he nervous?

without even thinking, you placed your hand on his knee and softly stroked it. the sudden contact took ed by surprise as that same leg stopped its bouncing. there it was again — that weird sense of comfort you brought him which he would never get used to.

ed couldn’t bring it in himself to answer your question even though it was something so simple. he hated that he didn’t know how to respond. the boxer tiredly rubs his eyes and awkwardly clears his throat. “you’ve still got those cards i gave you, yea?” ed looks over at you and he can sense your small hint of confusion from him desperately trying to change topics.

to his surprise, you don’t mind and let up.

“oh, uh.. of course i do.” your response makes him crack a slight grin as he pulls out a small deck of cards from the pocket of his hoodie.

of course he carried these around with him.

nothing can stop the small laugh that you let out at the sight of him hurriedly looking through all his cards.

you remember ed telling you about this trading card game he had been into… you’ve bought him some cards on certain occasions because you’d figure he’d enjoy it with how much he seems to gush over this game. and he had also bought you a small deck of cards along with giving away some spare ones he thought were useless for him. he mentioned that it’d be useful for whenever you two had a chance to hang out and play together.

it didn’t take long for you to get up and find your small deck of cards. once you came back to your main living room, you seen ed already seated at your table. he was organizing everything and sat on the opposite side to your seat. without wasting any more time, you grab your seat and begin getting your cards ready to play.

to be honest, you weren’t sure how much time had passed. once you two played multiple rounds of that trading card game, you had binged a few comedy shows that had ed intrigued even though he would never admit… but you can tell he was into it just by how much he bantered with the episodes as they went on.

and now you were here…

ed was fast asleep as he snuggled into you. it took everything in you to hold on your giggle and not wake him up. you were certain that he wasn’t aware of how close he was holding on to you right now… he would probably die of embarrassment if he was conscious right now. ed had only asked to share your bed because it ‘looked comfy as hell’ , but in reality you knew there was definitely more reason behind it. and that’s how you can only assume it had to do with his night terrors.

it’s not a surprise that he wouldn’t admit that, but you knew better and allowed him to sleep with you for the night. his face finally looked relaxed as he slept here close to you. honestly, you also never would’ve thought he’d be the small spoon between you two.

though, you couldn’t stop thinking about how there was a part of you that felt extremely sorry for him… sometimes you can sense and feel the heart of a little boy inside of ed, but he’s forced to keep up such a rough exterior due to everything he’s been through.

the thought of it made you frown a little bit.

he deserves so much better.

although he’ll never fully tell you what’s going on, you still want to be there for him as much as you can. you gently move his hair to the side to see his full face and you instantly smile at the sight of him.

without even thinking, you slowly place a kiss on his forehead and close your eyes with an even bigger grin on your face now.

“good night, ed.”

[bengiyo]

Last Twilight Ep 3 Stray Thoughts

Last time, Mhok began working and was pleased with his salary. He may be rough around the edges, but he was doing his "easy" job. He had some initial friction with Day around moving his things and taking care of the fish, but things came to a head when Day tried to run from strangers seeing his condition. Mhok got triggered, thinking Day might hurt himself, and broke into his room. Mhok got fired, but Porjai came to talk to Day about Mhok putting himself through an exercise to understand Day's disability more and the two have reconciled for now.

I like the two of them straightening Day's room together and understanding the system to help him find things. It's a relief to see Day having fun with it.

The inflatable dino costumes are so silly. This is fun.

Now, Mhok, you know better than to swipe through someone else's pictures.

They saw Day making progress around the house and made him instantly clam back up by suggesting he go back to school.

Mhok's relationship with Porjai is used very well here. I love that she has moved on from Mhok and is happy, so I don't feel bad about her giving perspective and wondering about some jealousy plotline.

I like the pace of the relationship between Mhok and Day so far. Day is already asking Mhok for help on his own.

I will always love teachers who refuse to let students give up on themselves.

Mhok is a good listener and supporter. I like that he doesn't involve himself in the conversations between the family or the teacher, and that he aids Day's attempt to avoid notice.

Said the name of the show. Finish your drinks.

Thank you for keeping the lights on, Oishii.

I like how Mhok plays with the preconceptions that he doesn't know much to encourage Day to figure out some things. It's a very gentle approach that uses Day's own ego to move him forward.

WE HAVE FINALLY USED THE BANGKOK METRO SYSTEM IN A BL. 🎉 IPYTM came close, but we never went inside.

I love that Mhok tried to prank Day with the pink shirt. Later, in the dressing room, we know he's watching out for Day because he confirmed that he knew what was on the shirt he picked.

I like the way the physical tension between them around Day's exposed body is building.

And Day made Mhok get the pink shirt! I love this.

Mhok being sure to include Day in the conversation with the bookstore owner is a great touch. I like that he didn't let Day give up and insisted they find the book today.

Even if it's a bit artificial, I like Mhok slipping the book where Day would find it to help him have a sense of accomplishment since Day had been also sifting through books.

The last page is missing? How will we know the ending? Okay, Aof. I see you.

Increasing the price because he's Mhok's friend was so fun. It's the kind of detail that makes the world feel like it has a history. It was clearly a joke and let Day have fun.

Oh, we were having such a good day, and now Mhok feels like he has to defend Porjai and in a fight against Porjai's two-timing boyfriend. Now Day is lost.

Oh my goodness, did Mhok switch to the pink shirt to make himself more visible? I am going to melt.

Mhok is so ready for people to look down on him that he immediately owned his own history rather than let the mom hold it over him.

Oh shit that was great eye shine from Jimmy when Day started saying how much he appreciates Mhok.

Not sure what all is going on with Night and Day yet, but I like that he came to Mhok's defense after they left the room.

That was a really well done wind down for this episode.

More of Film next week!!

So, I'm really loving this show and so glad that a GMMTV show is back to sound episodic structure. Jimmy and Sea both feel much more attuned to their characters and their chemistry feels a lot easier than their last outing. This is a solid watch

[transforming]

The Vitruvian Vault

Maximilien was wearing a tux that fit tightly around his built frame, and his handsome face made everyone’s heads turn and gawk at him.  His charming smile made everyone watching swoon. What they didn’t know was that he wasn’t really that handsome, or muscular, or attractive, and that he wouldn’t be this if he never found the Vitruvian Vault.

Three months ago, Max was on the metro when he saw an envelope fall from another man’s pocket. He didn’t seem to notice that it fell, as he didn’t look back, and the doors were closing anyway, so Max looked around and carefully swooped it up and put it in his satchel.

Getting off at Seneca, he walked to his cramped studio apartment (which came with no bathroom, just a toilet and a sink) and rummaged through his satchel and slid the envelope into his hands. Opening it, he found an empty piece of paper and something else - a remote of sorts. It was a flat piece of plastic with a light at the end, with a singular button, emblazoned with a copy of da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man.

“One button with the Vitruvian Man?” he asked, curious. He looked at his small flat screen, aimed the remote to it, and pressed it. 

Nothing.

“So not a TV remote, I guess,” he said dejected, and accidentally pressed the button as the remote aimed at the front door. The wooden door glowed and Max gawked as atom by atom, it transformed into a metal one.

“Woah, what the–” his voice trailed off as the door shifted and morphed into metal. Max carefully approached it and turned the handle.

On the other side was not the corridor of his apartment floor, but a huge warehouse full of human-sized pods. The room was super bright, and as Max stepped in, he heard a voice from somewhere:

“Welcome to the Vitruvian Vault, Mr. Lopez,” it said in a flat, almost robotic tone. “Please close the door behind you.”

Max did as was told. He walked down the steps and took a close look at the pods. Each one had a screen, with pictures of beautiful people of all ethnic backgrounds and sexual orientations.

“Wh-what is this place?” he asked to… well, no one.

Steam hissed from an area of the warehouse, and a humanoid robot was walking towards him. Max was frightened - it’s like seeing the robot inside the Terminator, about to kill him. Instead though, the android pressed a button on the screen of a pod, and it opened to reveal a handsome young man. 

“Mr. Lopez-”

“M-Max,” he stammered.

“Max, call me Marwan. I’ll be your guide to the Vault.”

“So wait, this… this Vault thing, it houses bodysuits?”

“Not just bodysuits… well, it stores copies of bodies, but the ways you can use them are endless,” Marwan chuckled.

He led Max to an empty white room.

“This is where we scan you so the bodies can be calibrated to your… physical size? Yes, that’s it.”

Marwan positioned Max in the center of the room, and an oculus opened above. Lasers aimed all over his clothed body as the Vault’s AI measured every area of Max’s body (including package, which did not enthuse the ladies and gents), while also assessing the types of bodies Max would like. It took about ten minutes until the oculus shut itself.

He sighed, “So what now?”

“We pick out bodies we think you’d like,” Marwan smiled as he led his ‘master’ back out into the warehouse. 

“Okay, so… here we have about ten specific bodies we think you–”

“H-him…” Max stammered, staring at a pod.

“Oh, this guy. Well, he’s of French origin, so you’ll be able to speak French very sexily in this vessel. I mean, you could speak anything sexily in–” Marwan said, interrupted by Max.

“What are the ways?” he asked.

The screen flashed five options:

Bodysuit

Avatar

Body swap

Permanent merge

“Which option would you like to take, Max?” Marwan asked, walking over to look into the pod.

“I choose…”

A year later…

Weird enough, he’s still a robot, and they’re both trying to find a way to make him human, but sometimes, it never mattered anymore. They love each other.

“Je suis Max,” he mumbled. He chuckled. He was indeed sexy, the very definition of pulchritude. The Vitruvian Vault gave him a new lease on life, and now, it was someone else’s turn. Luckily enough, he got to explore the whole vault to understand how it works, seeing all the bodies.

He dropped the envelope and walked away, smirking, knowing whoever picks it up will have a real adventure.

And that person is you. What do you plan to do with the Vault?