#we also went to chile

[holliano]

I made my high school’s wikipedia.

My citation is that I was there and the stamps in my passport prove it?

Also I still have the airport tag on my hockey gear.

[weedle-testaburger]

one topic I find weirdly charming is stuff for kids that's basically specific to one place. when there's some obscure thing that pretty much everyone outside your country goes 'what?' and everyone in your country goes 'OH MY GOD THAT' when you mention it, that's the shit

[moderatetoaboveaverage]

.

[mazojo]

What's yuri's personality then? Being gay?

About Minho, being mean and making mean two liners towards Kitty every in between?

ma'am this is a McDonalds drive thru

[itsays]

i remember when we got a new girl from chile at my catholic school and the whole time she was just having a horrible time because she had never been to catholic school in her life

[strawhatkia]

luvr boy.

INCLUDES ! izuku midoriya x black!fem!reader

GENRE ! fluff

SYNOPSIS ! general relationship headcanons with izuku !

WARNINGS ! cursing, fem!black! reader, we still in high school y’all, a little uraraka slander (read to understand), edited

WORD COUNT ! 1.6k

A/N ! another repost, i had to break it up bc it was a lot of text - izuku motherfucking midoriya. the blasian himself. isaiah niggadoriya. him with a black female? him with a melanated goddess? i think it god’s greatest gift to give izuku ‘deku’ midoriya a beautiful, melanated, healing black woman and for me to write about it.❤️🥰 also, i hate the way uraraka is written and i will not hold back

reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍

MAIN MASTERLIST | BNHA MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

— ☾⋆⁺₊ 👊🏻 📗✧

pretty boy- the prettiest 

alright!! let’s start with wash day!!

…nigga did not know shit-

 poor baby grew up with inko, bless her straight headed soul, so he had no clue how to probably take care of his hair

all he had was h e a t  d a m a g e

“zuku, how do you do your hair?” “huh?” “like what do you do?” “uh well, nothing really, i just wash it, that’s it.” “…” “what? why are you making that face- IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH MY HAIR?!?”

everything…everything is wrong…

aight sis, grab yo detangler, rat-tail comb, hard brush, sulfate-free shampoo, co-wash, conditioner, deep conditioner, protein treatment, all your oils, patience, and strength

and for the love of everything that is great- throw away his 3-in-1 before he give me a fucking heart attack

chile- you couldn’t even see his fucking scalp. his hair was so matted and curled up tightly together that it hurt to look at it 

don’t let him go out this house like this no mo, hear me?

but it’s nothing you can’t fix, give the lil boy head some TLC and watch them curls pop!

first wrap that towel around his shoulders, put a pillow on the floor and sit him down in between ya legs and start the marathon of old all might and black people movies you gon’ be there for a while

lil boy would not sit still and he was tender-headed pick a struggle; at this point it was either get popped by you or suffer the pain from his scalp…he chose the latter

mans almost fell asleep while you was shampooing his hair and when you put the hot oil treatment on his scalp- slumber  

after everything, you twisted his hair and gave him a bonnet

“uhm...why are you giving me a hat?” you almost slapped the taste outta his damn mouth

after explaining, he put it on; little did he know it was an expect copy to yours, just a different size

“baby, we’re matching!” ”yes, izu, we are. do you wanna take pictures?” you have just made his night. 

the pictures were posted all over insta and has them pinned on his account you betta bet mina was all in the damn comment section ; later, he would print them out and put them on his desk so he can look at when he sat down or went to bed

when you took his hair down the next day, he went to the mirror and baby had stars in his eyes

“it looks so cool!” “i’m glad you like it, izu”

he talks about you to all might all the fucking time to the point they both know you better than ya damn self

which is really annoying because all might be wanting them "one on one" talks and it will irk you to talk to him because everything will be "but young midoriya said..."

to be honest, he went to all might for love advice....don’t ever let him do that again. mans was using the most corniest lines but since it was izuku, he got away with- tell me you not cheesing thinking about him saying the "roses are red, violets are blue line" with the cutest blush...im waiting

golden hour, his favorite time of the day

this man will drop everything just to see you at golden hour like when the sun is just starting to set, he will rush into ya dorm room just to watch you

it's like therapy for him to see you relaxing under the setting sun and see your brown skin shining, i just feel like this time would be the time he reminds himself that he is incredibly lucky to have you and will literally do anything to keep you relaxed like this

"zuku babes, what are you looking at?" "nothing~" "whew boy you are so far gone" "hm?" "oh! uh...love you !" "hm, love you too~"

side note: ...if you hear a camera click, don't be surprised

izuku loves affection, giving and receiving

his giving love languages is acts of service and a lil bit of quality time; his receiving love language is physical touch and words of affirmation

so it’s important that you meet in the middle and give him praise, shit works like a charm

go up to him, pat and rub his curls and tell him that he did a good job and one of two things will happen

one: he'll tear up a lot and ask if you're sure or two: he'll blush really fucking hard

as for his giving love, he'll just kinda follow you now until he is told to leave. don’t do that. just don’t.

let him leave on his own, you'll make him feel like he's bothering you otherwise 

ask him for cuddles, he’ll drop almost anything he is doing to do so

even if you just drop hints about it, he’ll just smile and just take you somewhere quiet before sitting down or laying down to take a nap with you (nap dates with zuku !)

i think my heart just busted outta my chest i love him so fucking much

if you wanna match his acts of service, when he’s sick or just really busy at hero work studies, take notes for him in class. he will love you forever i promise. 

and best believe, that he wants your attention on him at all times

remember them head pats? let’s say you give them to todoroki or tsu for doing some reason

poor thing is definitely sitting in a corner somewhere sulking

he doesn’t want to get upset because that’s his friends and he's glad that you are getting along but he would be lying if he didn't feel a little salty about it

later on, he will ask for some and if you refuse for any reason, he’ll look at you like you just tore out his heart…cause ya did

and GOD FORBID if you give more attention to bakugo instead of him…it is now in God’s hands

he’s throwing you over his shoulder and walking away from bakugo, not before throwing him a glare which later on ensues another fight between them

he only did it because he doesn’t like you getting too close to bakugo, no matter how much he cares about him being his childhood friend

i would like to think there's always that underlying fact that yes, you can handle yourself, but he also knows just how capable bakugou is and lowkey does not want to risk it

please remind him that you do love him and that he is a good boyfriend with all the hugs, cuddles, and all that other good shit

he loves to write about you in his notes, he has AT LEAST 4 notebooks about everything about you as well as somethings he wish to say to you and a little souvenirs from moments between you two that he found special

he has a special item from the time he figured out that he loved you and wrote down in detail what happened and how he felt about it 

when you find these notebooks, do not, i repeat, DO NOT tell him that you found. just take the damn notebook while you can and run

give it back and you'll never see it again.

but most definitely tell him about all the things you read and watch him turn bright red

“so, you did get jealous when I gave Sero that hug the other day?” “HUH?!?!? H- H- HOW DID YOU FIND OUT!!?” “*holds up notebook marked ‘Y/n L/n’* Maybe because wrote about it…in detail” *cue the screams of embarrassment and horror*

nah but the amount of times the boy has gone off on a tangent about the little things he loves about you in there will get you flustered-

for drama sake, let’s talk about uraraka

short story: you almost knocked that bitch teeth in

long story: yes, deku used to like her and yes, she almost got him but that did not work out and guess who got him first ! tbh, you started out good friends with uraraka apart from the dekusquad but she never told you about her lil crush until it was too damn late !  

and little miss thing was not happy about it; “after all this time…he gets with her!!”

i think you noticed at first her lil sly ass actions and remarks but don’t give in, let her make a fool of herself and watch her run around in circles

be calm and stay two steps ahead, it will work out in your favor ! and it did !

the next person that noticed was tsu, however, she was on your side about this because she hates petty shit and people so what uraraka was doing was not to her liking at all ! 

the other two, iida and shoto, caught on to it (iida wanting uraraka to at least remain civil and shoto just watching from afar) but deku remained oblivious for a while

he just wanted to be friends with everyone so he kinda just...didn't notice or thought she was mad about something else

i feel like uraraka would get beside herself and start saying reckless ass shit to express her frustration but it would only end up with her getting her ass beat and shunned from the group until she got her act together

you can guess what she said but all imma say is….she really lost her god damn mind and paid the price

what's worse is she really did try to make it seem like you stole from her...but dum dum was the one who didn't speak up? until the very last minute? which...sounds like a personal problem? sssoooooo, stay mad?

everyone in class did figure it out and it was just lowkey sad to see her get so messy but in the end !

izuku loves you very much and would do anything for you 

you are his happiness and he’s thinking about spending forever with you

©STRAWHATKIA ━ all rights reserved. all content published on this blog belongs to starsoir. please refrain from copying, stealing, profiting off my works, or using my works for asmr related work. i don’t allow my works to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍

wanna read more ??

lip gloss, lil mama. | f. | multiple characters

boyfriend. | f. | katsuki bakugo

love you more when the day is new. | f. | multiple characters

taglist : @mypimpademia @sevvnt @cosmiles @megurulvr @miirene

izuku taglist: @cosmiles

[prisonhannibal]

Fosen update 12th of October 2023

Yesterday was the 11th of october, which means it’s been two years since the supreme court ruled the wind power plants at Fosen illegal and a violation of indigenous human rights. The local sámi reindeer herder families sued the state and WON in the supreme court, and despite this, the wind turbines are still up and the government is making no effort to change the situation even though they apologized and called it an ongoing human rights violation back in march after the first round of demonstrations. We live in a country where the state and state owned power companies can continue to violate sámi rights even after losing in the supreme court. 11th of october also exactly one month after the 700th day since the ruling, which was election day, and the day a sámi activist and artist moved into a lávvu in front of parliament where he still lives now. Because of threats, harassment, and vandalism, the lávvu has needed to be guarded 24/7 by other activists.

Yesterday, the main street in Oslo (which runs next to the parliament and continues up to the royal castle) was filled with lávvus while the surrounding traffic was blocked by people sitting down in the round. The lávvus were moved to the park in front of the parliament later that night, joining the first lávvu, pretty much filling up the whole lawn and some on the sidewalk. A group of activists entered the parliament, and yoiked (traditional form of singing/chanting) they sat in the main hall for hours until they were carried out by police while people were yelling ČSV and yoiking outside.

more than 40 years ago, sámi activists went on a hunger strike in a lávvu on that same grass to protest the building of the Alta hydroelectric power station (look up Alta conflict). They are still doing this to us, and they’ll continue unless we fight it and hold the state responsible for the harm it has done and continues to do to indigenous people of sápmi.

Today, all the entrances of the headquarters of the fully state owned company Statkraft have been blocked. Statkraft makes money off this ILLEGAL power plant. Statkraft operates the Alta hydroelectric power station, and the Pilmaiquén hydroelectric plant in Chile that the indigenous mapuche people have been fighting against. They have shown us so much solidarity and support in the fight against this company and Norway’s green colonialism, both in Sápmi and in Chile.

The lávvus in front of the parliament are still up, people are sleeping there and plan to stay.

thank you for listening to us, ollu giitu.

Baajh vaeride årrodh! ČSV ❤️💚💛💙✊🏼

[cat-in-a-mech-suit]

Transmasculinity Throughout Time: Antonio de Erauso

Alright everyone, fasten your seatbelts. This historical trans man had a wild and complicated life! Be warned that this history deals with violence, war and colonialism as it is set in 1600s Spain and South America. Also, if you are reading this post looking for a hero to look up to, you will not find one. Read a different post.

Historians aren’t sure if Antonio was born in 1585 or 1592, but we do know he was born in Spain, and from an early age, showed an interest in traditionally masculine things, like the art of warfare. He was confined to a convent as a nun, much to his distaste, from the ages of (we think) 4 to 15, after which, in 1600, he escaped and started passing as a man.

He became a fugitive, first going to Vitoria and staying with a distant in law who did not recognize him as a boy. The man he was staying with began abusing him, so he left again, and this time went to Valladolid and became a page for the king’s secretary. He worked there for seven months. One day, his father came in to ask about his missing “daughter” to him while he was working there, and did not recognize him! After that, he left and went to Bilbao. There, he got into a rock fight after a group of boys started harassing him, and he spent a month in jail. So, he went to Estella, and became a page again for a lord for two years. After that time, he went back to his home town of San Sebastian and continued life as a man, regularly interacting with people who he was related to and knew before - they all didn’t recognize him.

Then he set off to travel to the Americas in search of wealth (yikes..). He began as a cabin boy on a ship destined for the new world. He headed to Venezuela and confronted a Dutch pirate ship, emerging victorious. Later he killed his own uncle and stole 500 pesos from him, lying to the crew about it. The journeys continued until a strong wind destroyed the ship and only Erauso and his master survived. They went to Zana together and acquired a home. They also bought slaves (yikes again…).

He got into another fight and this time cut the guys face entirely off. A deal was made for him to marry a specific girl to avoid another prison sentence, but he refused to marry her and simply moved again, to Trujillo. The guy who got his face cut off came to challenge him again, bringing company this time. He won the fight again and killed someone, and went to jail again, and his master paid the bail. He got a letter of recommendation to become a shop manager in Lima. After nine months of working there he got fired for inappropriate relations with a woman (his master’s wife’s sister). He got recruited by a company trying to conquer Chile, became a llama driver and then a soldier.

The secretary of the governor in Chile was his own brother, who did not recognize him. They got into a fight (likely over a girl) and he was banished to Paicabi, where he gained a reputation for being skilled with weapons. There he was promoted to captain. He was not promoted any higher than this because he was too violent, even by the standards of other Spanish colonizers, so in retaliation, he started killing people indiscriminately, burning crops, vandalizing places, and generally being an extremely dangerous individual. He killed the chief auditor of the city of Concepción which led to him being locked up in a church for six months. After he got out, he killed his own brother in a duel (who still didn’t recognize him). That got him eight more months. Then, he fled again, and was briefly taken in by a villager in Tucamán but left again after promising marriage to two girls - ditching both of them. He kept their gifts though, including money and fine clothing.

After that he became a soldier again and killed even more people. He got accused of a crime but this time, he actually was innocent. Shocker. He still got tortured though, but they never found out he was trans. Then he started smuggling wheat and cattle, and also killed another guy. He was sentenced to death, but released at the last minute. He stayed in the church to have sanctuary, after he got into a duel with a jealous husband. He got sentenced to death again in La Paz, but he fled again to Peru.

In 1623 he was arrested in Peru because of a dispute. He was again on trial for execution. In his defense, he confessed to being assigned female and a virgin and was spared for these reasons and sent to Spain. He died in 1650 and a statue of him is on display in Mexico, with his birth name.

[thecountesstribe]

HOTD Ep 2x7 Spoilers and review.

So this was one of my favorite episodes this season and also one of the coolest imo.

Seasmoke being protective of Addam and looking proud he terrorized Addam into being his rider was too funny. I love that dragon 😂. Come through Addam the Loyal, all Rhaenyra had to say was she's queen and he immediately acknowledged her and bent the knee, I loved that. He's really about to become my other favorite boy.

Corlys being shook and acting like he doesn't know Addam, like sir if you don't tell the truth already. He's never gonna beat the deadbeat allegations. Although when he told him “Well done” I did whoop a little. I would've kicked his ass had I been Addam though.

Oscar Tully! That's it. That's the fuckin post. He gagged Daemon and stood on business. I love to see young kids bullying arrogant adults, he reminded me of the OG lil boss Lyanna Mormont. That's my lil nephew now.

Daemon didn't take the crown. We saw him hallucinating again, this time with the sick version of Viserys and Viserys holding the crown which he didn't take. I mean anybody with a brain could summarize that he never wanted the crown, we didn't need to spend so much time in his delusions in Harrenhal to tell us that. We certainly didn't need a scene of him feasting on his mom to tell us that, yuck. For all his faults he really was about his family. He went about it the wrong way but that's Daemon for you. His stupid self destructive ass.

We had an unnecessary scene of Alicent running about the woods after leaving King's Landing. Chile anyways. Larys is totally protecting Aegon now and he's essentially crippled atp. I fear for Baela's storyline.

Rhaena is looking for Sheepstealer. Her and Jeyne are still tussling but they waited until the final 2 episodes to give her something, Baela had no lines besides looking pretty and staring at Jace. I fuckin hate it here. Could we bully HBO AND THE WRITERS SOME MORE. WTF!!

Vermithor and SilverWing looked so cool. What did that old bum feed Vermithor though? He's big asf. SilverWing just might be the coolest looking dragon. I can't rank them anymore cause I like them all 😭. Literally my favorite thing about the episode. Like the directors cooked. The dragons are funny asf 😂😭😭😭. There were a lot of parentage reveals, I don't believe for a second Saera sired that ugly man but anyways. RhaeRhae led those people to their deaths. Rhaenyra deadass gave this big ass pep talk, she reminded me of Erwin before he led the scouts out on what would be their suicide mission except she didn't stay to see the outcome or participate in it. Vermithor saw an opportunity for a buffet and took it, Hugh claimed him. Fuckin cinema. Still gonna hate his bitchass but I can't lie that was badass. SilverWing was bullying Ulf. Why do people I hate always win sometimes?! Ulf literally failed upwards. Can't be mad at it. I mean if I was a dragon I would've done the same shit. How dare mediocre specimens come before me who is essentially the next best thing after the Gods!

We got Rhaenyra speaking High Valyrian. She had her dragon squad quit on her though and gave her a warning (foreshadowing). Her also being able to calm Vermithor, that's the Dragon Queen of her era y'all. We saw a little movement with her and her protective spoiled cat Syrax too 😍.

Not people hating on Jace now. Listen that argument has been brewing since season 1. He just finally let it out of his brooding body. I don't think many people understand the implications that argument meant. He sounded classist and maybe he was, highly doubt he is but he's being realistic and in the future he was proven right (unless they scrap the book canon). Rhaenyra paralleled Viserys in that entire scene. She really is her father's child in some ways. She did to Jace what Viserys essentially did to her. The one thing that could've upheld his ascension to the throne was him having a dragon and she essentially gave a free pass to anybody to do the same, the same thing was done to Rhaenyra when Viserys decided to marry Alicent and sire more children when he knew damn well that if he had a son, her claim to the throne would've been compromised. Jace knows he's a “bastard”, a legitimate one but a “bastard” ntl (I'm not calling him a bastard in a derogatory sense either, he isn't. Laenor claimed them as his sons and that's the end of it to me) , it shouldn't matter considering the throne is not passing from his father's side but his mother's. Sure his last name would've changed the minute he was named heir and ascended as stated by Viserys but what weight does that hold now? They briefly touched on it when he spoke to Baela about his fathers but he had always been insecure about his parentage. No he didn't call his mother a whore, he's been fighting that battle all his life, she just made it worse. In the dire situation they're in, the sacrifice had to be made but I could understand why he's angry and hurt over it again. She literally just made him illegitimate in the eyes of the realm. His anger is valid. Was his tone harsh yes, try dealing with the whispers and the jeers and everything else for the past 16 years of your entire life and seeing the same proof of what everybody else sees everyday and tell me that you wouldn't hold some kind of resentment towards it. I liked how Rhaenyra was patient with him though, just wished it wasn't as rushed as the scene felt.

The last shot of the episode was fuckin brilliant. Aemond turning his bitchass around knowing he can't handle that kinda pressure. Also Vhagar and Aemond's bond may not be as strong as it should be. She clearly does not listen to him sometimes. He's still responsible for Lucerys death IDC what y'all got to say. The episode got a 4/5 stars from me just for the dragons. I'm here for Jace, Baela, Addam and the Dragons!

Until next week guys for the finale. We're going to see Tessarion and Sheepstealer next week. I'm so excited.

[cuntess-carmilla]

Alright, let's try a thought exercise!

This thought exercise requires us to start by agreeing that women are an oppressed class (cis women, trans women, non-binary people who at least partially id as women or woman-adjacent).

If you can't concede that as a basis, then keep scrolling, this post isn't for you. I'm not here to convince MRAs that systemic misogyny – aka the patriarchy – is real. Alright? Alright.

I think we can all agree that, besides the institutional oppression faced by oppressed groups, they all also face acts of individualized concrete violence (which are then vindicated by institutions and/or sociocultural disinterest or even active acceptance).

You know, that thing we call hate crimes? Acts of violence committed against an individual by mere reason of an aspect of who they are which makes them oppressed and/or marginalized.

We discuss women as an oppressed class as well, but, save for specific feminist factions (largely, non-liberal feminists from the global south), no one really talks about misogynistic hate crimes.

Even though misogynistic men murder women and girls for no reason other than their own misogyny every day. There are exceptions, of course, but most of the time, when a man kills a woman it's not to steal from us, not as revenge for something shitty we did to them, not because we were in an altercation and it simply happened. No.

It's because "if I can't have her, then nobody can have her" (women as property), "she rejected me" (woman denied sex or romance to a man who wanted it), "she was trying to leave" (culmination of domestic violence), "she made me feel emasculated" (reaffirming masculinity through violence).

We're raped and otherwise sexually abused ALL the time as well, and our perpetrators are by far mostly cis men. I hope I don't have to go into detail on how that's related to misogyny.

Chile has pretty progressive femicide legislation as of somewhat recently. The legal definition of femicide went from being "male partner or ex-partner who murders his female partner or ex-partner" to "any killing of a woman for reason of her gender", which explicitly includes:

Women killed by men they were never involved with but who acted out of jealousy/possessivenes or as revenge because they were rejected.

Women being killed by men for being gender non-conforming.

Women being killed for being trans, lesbian or bisexual.

Women killed by men because they were sex workers.

(So, no, before the MRAs who kept reading get their panties in a twist, femicides in Chile are not defined as every single time a man kills any random woman. The motive for the murder has to be patriarchal bigotry in some form and that has to stand to scrutiny in court.)

If we accept that, like in the Chilean legislation of femicide, any act of violence committed by a man against a woman due to patriarchal bigotry is a misogynistic hate crime, shouldn't we be more alarmed with how astoundingly common and NORMALIZED hate crimes against women are?

How many women and girls do you know who have been sexually abused by a man or boy? How many which have been beaten? How many women do you know who have controlling and violent boyfriends or husbands or fathers or older brothers? How often do you hear about a woman who made it out alive by the skin of her teeth from the hands of a man who was absolutely going to kill her? And the ones that didn't make it? How about when misogyny intersects with race, disability, transness, gayness, socioeconomic class, religious minorities, and so on?

I firmly believe that the only reason we don't talk about these things as misogynistic hate crimes is because, despite being oppressed, women aren't a numerical minority. But, rather than that giving visibility to the violence we face, it invisibilizes it even more. It became society's normal to have approximately half of its population constantly subjected to hate crimes, to the point that there's whole TikTok trends dedicated to turning it into a joke (the "joke" where men pretend they're trying to suffocate their girlfriends with a pillow for being annoying) and until very recently it was perfectly ok for standup comedians to joke about it too. Precisely, because women are an oppressed class and violence against us is both socially sanctioned and encouraged, when it's hyper-visible, it becomes at best a fact of life that deserves no one's attention, and at worst it becomes a recurrent joke.

I, personally, believe that femicides and the largest portion of rapes suffered by women are misogynistic hate crimes, as are many other instances of violence women are used to now and that we deal with as a natural(ized) aspect of living as a woman. Which I know will get me called all sorts of names and slurs, but I can't see where my logic is failing.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Zhiying Zeng’s eyes begin to sparkle and her gestures become more animated as she recounts the day her lifelong Olympic dream came true.

She had to wait longer than most athletes, too: At 58 years old, Zeng will be one of the oldest Olympians at Paris 2024.

But for Zeng, whose Olympic journey began in China in the 1970s and culminated in qualification for Chile’s table tennis team earlier this year, it was worth the wait.

She had even retired from professional table tennis aged 20 – something which allowed her the opportunity to uproot her life in Asia and move across the Pacific Ocean to Chile – and at one stage went almost 20 years without playing.

“It was the biggest dream of my life,” she tells CNN Sport with a thick, unmistakable Chilean lilt.

“Even when I was a little girl and they would ask me what my dream was, I would say: ‘Become an Olympian.’”

Chile has now been Zeng’s home for 35 years and she is as Chilean as they come.

She is known in her adopted country as ‘Tania’ – because Chileans struggle pronouncing the Z in her name – and her favorite dish is pantruca, a kind of dumpling soup.

She also eats beans, a staple of the Chilean diet, every week.

Zeng loves empanadas, too, but doesn’t indulge too much now that she’s an elite athlete again. “Too many calories,” she laughs.

From China to Chile

Zeng was born in Guangzhou in 1966 and picked up a paddle almost as soon as she was physically able.

Her mother was a table tennis coach, which meant the then-government housed the family next to a sports complex, allowing Zeng to train every day and surround herself with professional players.

She was trained by her mother until the age of nine when, Zeng says, she became a typical grumpy child that didn’t want to be coached by a parent.

So her mother enrolled her in a school that employed a table tennis coach and after nearly two years, aged 11, she entered an elite sports academy.

Even in China, by far the world’s most dominant table tennis nation, Zeng’s talents were evident from an early age.

She became a national junior champion and won several regional tournaments before turning professional at the age of 12.

When she was 16, she was called up to the Chinese table tennis team for the first time.

“So many players in China have that dream because it’s so hard to achieve,” she says.

However, in 1986, two years before table tennis made its Olympic debut at the Games in Seoul, the “two color rule” was introduced, meaning the two sides of the paddle now had to be different colors instead of both black.

Zeng explains that the two faces of the paddle produce different types of effects on the ball and she would regularly rotate it in her hand to confuse opponents.

The different colored faces meant opponents could better predict her shots.

“The change of rules affected my game a lot,” she recalls. “That’s when I had a big downturn and left the national team.”

It was a painful moment for Zeng, who says she idolized players who were not much older than her that had already become Asian or world champions, and she was desperate to follow in their footsteps.

But the rule change paved the way for the next chapter in Zeng’s remarkable story.

In 1989, she received an invitation to coach schoolchildren in Arica, a city in northernmost Chile.

It was a job she adored, but it wasn’t until 2003 that she picked up the paddle to play competitive table tennis again.

She wanted to introduce her son, who was 13 at the time, to the sport in order to drag him away from playing too many video games and watching too much television.

In 2004 and 2005, Zeng comfortably won two national tournaments but once again stopped playing when her son was old enough to go to training on his own and travel with the team’s coach.

Third time’s a charm

Zeng only picked up a paddle again when the Covid-19 pandemic struck.

“More than anything, just to exercise because we weren’t doing anything locked down in the house except eating!” she laughs.

“I got the bug and, once we were able to leave, I immediately wanted to play against someone to see what level I was at – and see if I could I still run or not.”

She contacted the federation in Iquique, where she lives today and owns a furniture business, and was soon playing – and winning – regional tournaments against mostly men given there were few female players.

“That gave me a lot of confidence,” she says.

“I had no problems with running, with fatigue or anything. I wanted to know how much more I could do.”

In 2022, the Chilean Table Tennis Federation sent an announcement to the regional associations that it was hosting a tournament to put together a team for the 2023 South American Table Tennis Championships.

Despite her success, Zeng was skeptical about going.

All of the best players in the country would be there and she doubted that she would be able to keep up.

In the end, she only went because a friend managed to convince her.

“‘Go and find out if you can compete or not. If not, at least you’ll be left with no doubts,’” she recalls her friend telling her. “I thought she had a point.”

Zeng qualified for the team, of course, and led Chile to first place in the team tournament, while also coming second in the singles and women’s doubles.

“I forgot what I was afraid of and what I was worried about,” she says.

But it wasn’t until the 2023 Pan American Games in Santiago that her life really changed.

After her first appearance at the tournament, Zeng became a national icon overnight.

After losing the first two sets in her opening match, Zeng rattled off four straight to win 4-2 in front of her new adoring fans.

Chileans gave her the nickname ‘Tia Tania’ – Auntie Tania – and the AP reported that one young fan said he had gone just to watch the “table tennis grandma.”

Even Chilean President Gabriel Boric became a fan and congratulated her on a “tremendous” victory.

Zeng, who will play Lebanon’s Mariana Sahakian in the preliminary rounds of Paris 2024 on Saturday, says being in Santiago as an athlete during the Pan Am Games was a surreal experience.

She spent much of her time with other athletes, going out to dinner and taking photos.

“I lived like that when I was 15,” she says, recalling her time as a professional in China.

“It had been a long time since I experienced something like this. I was like an excited teenager again. I forgot I was 56!”

It proved to be a successful tournament on the table, too, as Zeng won team bronze for Chile alongside Daniela Ortega and Paulina Vega.

Zeng’s sons also noticed that her Instagram following had grown by almost 10,000 in a matter of days and had to teach her how to use social media, so she could keep her hordes of new fans updated.

Finally, 38 years after she gave up on her Olympic dream, Zeng qualified for Paris 2024 at a pre-Olympic qualifying tournament in Lima, Peru, in May this year.

Zeng says she didn’t sleep at all the night before the deciding game as she played out every imaginable scenario in her head.

On match point, when she went to collect the ball, her mind again began to run wild.

“Calm, calm,” Zeng, who says mental fortitude is her biggest asset in table tennis, repeated to herself. “You’ve got one more point.”

After winning match point, the emotion of everything she had experienced in the sport came flooding out.

Her father, who is 92 and regularly visits her in Chile, and her brother stayed up until 5 a.m. in China to watch the match, while her husband and friends were in Lima to celebrate the moment with her.

“My dad was able to see his daughter qualify for the Olympics,” she says, visibly emotional.

“He used to take me to training and to matches when I was a girl and now at 57, I made it. I made it.”

[hyper-trash-panda]

Bad Boys — Legacy

Pt 2/?

Warnings: Blood, violence, cursing

Rated R

Chile, I’m over here bootlegging the Bad Boys movies trying to make gifs 😆😆

The clink of silverware against plates echoed through the dining room. The smell of smothered chicken and roasted vegetables filled the air, but the usual warmth of Theresa's cooking were overshadowed by the heaviness that had settled over the table.

Marcus, sitting at the head, glanced around the table, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took a bite from his fork. To his right, Theresa meticulously adjusted her napkin, her lips pressed into a thin line, betraying her discomfort. Next to her, their daughter picked at her food, her usual chatter replaced by an uncharacteristic silence. Reggie was focused on his plate, completely unhindered as he scarfed down every bite. Marcus grimaced.

Mike, sitting to Marcus' left, was still; his fork hovering over his plate as he stole glances towards Valerie. She sat beside him, her smile polite but strained. The air between Mike and Armando, who sat beside Valerie, was charged with unspoken words. Armando's jaw was tight, his eyes flicking between his father and his fiancée, the muscles in his neck taut.

From the living room, the sound of the kids' cartoons provided a distant, cheerful contrast to the uncomfortable quiet at the table, but it only seemed to deepen the discomfort in the dining room.

The scrape of Marcus' chair against the floor as he leaned back to take a sip of water seemed louder than it should have. An awkward, "Sorry." Left his lips before silence overtook the table once more.

Theresa cleared her throat softly. "So, Valerie," she began, her tone warm but slightly forced, "how was your flight?"

Valerie, mid-sip of her water, swallowed quickly, her eyes widening in brief surprise. "Oh, um, it was good," she replied, her voice steadying as she placed her glass back on the table. "It's only a two hour flight from the Dominican Republic, but it was hard leaving my kids."

Mike perked up. “You got kids?"

"In a sense," Valerie admitted, "I'm a school teacher."

Megan's eyes lit up, a spark of enthusiasm breaking through the tension. "Really?," she said, leaning in. "I'm actually working on my master's right now to teach English. What grade do you teach?"

Valerie turned to Megan, her expression brightening. "It's a small district, so we don't really have grade levels. I teach kids from about six to ten years old."

"Oh, those are the fun ages, I should know," said Megan, eyes gesturing to her brood in the next room. "What do you teach?"

"Science," Valerie answered, her smile widening. "My degree is in chemistry, but I also teach them astronomy, earth science, physics, the general basics."

As she spoke, Valerie's eyes drifted to Armando; his arm rested protectively along the back of her chair as he leaned back, picking at his plate. Sensing her gaze, Armando glanced at her and then straightened up, his posture shifting as if already anticipating what she was about to say.

"Actually, that's how I met Armando," Valerie added.

Armando's eyes softened, his usually guarded expression easing for a moment as their eyes met. If one were to squint hard enough, they might believe him to be smiling back.

Marcus interjected with a smirk. "Well don't leave us in suspense, Valerie. I've got to know who managed to melt the warlock baby's heart."

Before anyone could react, Mike's foot shot out under the table, landing a swift kick to Marcus' shin. Marcus winced, but the pain went unacknowledged by everyone else at the table.

"Well," Valerie began, her voice gentle as she thought back, "I was teaching my kids about the rock cycle at the time. My home is set near a small dock, so I was walking along the shore collecting rocks when I noticed a boat floating out in the distance."

Valerie paused, her brow furrowing slightly at the memory. "At first, I didn't think much of it—there are fishermen who pass by all the time—but the person inside this boat wasn't moving, and it gave me an eerie feeling."

The table was silent, everyone leaning in a little closer as Valerie continued. "I got my neighbor, who owns a boat, we set out to check on it. That's when we found Armando. He—um—" Valerie paused, taking in the audience, realizing some of the finer details to be inappropriate, "Wasn't in the best condition. We got him to shore and set him up in my spare room. I spent the next two days helping him through a fever, rehydrating him, and sewing up his wounds until he was strong enough to leave."

Theresa, her eyes twinkling, cut in with a knowing smile. "Well, clearly, he didn't, did he?" she teased, glancing at the engagement ring on Valerie's finger.

Armando picked up the story, his voice steady. "Val got me a job working maintenance for the school. It gave me time to find a fresh start. It was honest work, something I needed."

Valerie nodded. "It took two years, but eventually, Armando proposed." She smiled softly, the memory still fresh in her mind. "And, well, here we are."

Marcus grinned, "Ain't that something," he said, his voice warm. "Congratulations, you two." He nodded approvingly as he noticed Armando's arm had moved from resting behind Valerie's chair to holding her hand on the table.

Mike, who had been quiet, focused on the ring on Valerie's finger. It was a simple design—a double gold band encasing a half-line of small stones. Mike knew that with the kind of money Armando's former cartel life would’ve have afforded him, he could've easily bought something far more extravagant. But this ring, it was a testament to Armando's honest work, to the new life he was trying to build. Mike felt a swell of pride for his son.

Just as Mike was lost in thought, Megan broke the silence with a playful tone. "So, when's the big day?"

Valerie started to answer, "We've decided to wait until Armando joined—"

But before she could finish, Armando interjected smoothly, his voice firm. "Until I've fulfilled my contract with Miami PD," he said, his words carefully chosen.

Valerie blinked, momentarily confused by the shift in their story, but before she could question him, the simultaneous ringing of both Mike and Marcus' phones cut through the room. They exchanged a look, already knowing what it meant.

"Duty calls," Marcus muttered, already pushing back his chair as Mike did the same. Marcus leaned down to kiss Theresa on the cheek, then turned to Megan, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Take care, alright?" he said before turning to Reggie.

"Let’s move," Marcus ordered.

Reggie stood up immediately. "Yes, sir." he replied with a nod, wiping gravy from his lip. He then turned to Megan, his expression softening as he leaned in and gave her a tender kiss before following his father-in-law.

Mike turned to Theresa as he grabbed his jacket. "Dinner was amazing, Tee. I'm coming back for them leftovers."

Theresa smiled, already heading to the kitchen. "I'll pack some up for you."

As Mike headed toward the door, he looked back at Armando, who was still seated, clearly conflicted. "Armando, you're coming with us," Mike said, his voice carrying a hint of expectation.

Armando hesitated, his gaze shifting from his father to Valerie, who looked at him with a mix of confusion and concern. He didn't want to leave her without explaining, but he knew he had to go.

Leaning in close to Valerie, he spoke softly, "Hablamos después, ¿sí?" *we'll talk later, okay?* His voice was firm but gentle before giving her a quick, reassuring peck on the lips.

Valerie nodded, though the worry in her eyes remained. She watched as Armando rose from the table, his movements deliberate as he joined Mike, Marcus, and Reggie at the door.

Eclipse was a far cry from its usual scene. The neon lights that once pulsed in sync with the deafening beats of the music were replaced by harsh, clinical overhead lights that washed the space in sterile white. There was no music now, only the mechanical rhythm of camera shutters and the soft thud of boots across the slick, glossy floor. Crime scene tape flapped gently in the artificially chilled air, marking off areas that had been vibrant just hours ago but now lay in silence, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of a body bag being zipped up.

Forensics teams combed through the wreckage of the night, dusting for prints, collecting fibers, and snapping close-ups of every bloodstain. Detectives huddled in quiet conversation, their voices low, while uniformed officers kept curious onlookers at bay outside. A few clubgoers who hadn't made it out before the chaos were lined up against a wall, their once-carefree expressions now replaced with shock and confusion.

The hum of an Porsche 911 rolled up to the scene, its tires barely making a sound as it came to a smooth stop just beyond the tape. From the driver's seat, Mike stepped out, his crisp black shirt catching the glint of the overhead lights. Beside him, Marcus followed, already tugging at his shirt collar like the tension of the scene had wrapped itself around his neck. Reggie hopped out of the back, eyes wide, taking in the grim scene. Last out was Armando, his posture cool, but his sharp gaze sweeping over the mess in front of them.

The four moved as a unit, heading toward the yellow tape that separated them from the chaos. Mike led the way, his badge flashing like a beacon in the dim light as he approached the officer guarding the entrance. Without a word, the officer lifted the tape for him, nodding in recognition as Mike passed. Marcus followed, flashing his own badge. Reggie was next, getting a quick nod from the officer who had seen him enough times to know he was with them. But as Armando reached for the tape, the officer stepped in front of him.

"Whoa, hold up. Where's your badge?"

Armando didn't flinch, but his jaw tightened slightly as he glanced at Mike. Before he could say anything, Mike stepped back, his usual cocky grin in place as he clapped a hand on the officer's shoulder.

"He's with us. AMMO consultant," Mike said, his voice leaving no room for argument. The officer hesitated for only a second, then gave a quick nod, lifting the tape higher for Armando to pass through.

"Gracias," Armando said, his voice cool and even as he followed Mike and the others toward the center of the club.

They made their way through the scene, weaving past clusters of investigators, toward Kelly, who stood over a body in the middle of the dance floor. Her gloved hands rested on her hips and sharp eyes scanning the evidence in front of her like a puzzle that hadn't yet revealed all its pieces. She didn't look up when the group approached but spoke, her tone matter-of-fact.

"Took you long enough," Kelly muttered, finally turning to face them, her gaze locking on Mike and Marcus. "You're not gonna like this one."

Marcus tugged on his gloves, flexing his fingers as he glanced over at the body Kelly stood over. "Who we looking at?" he asked, his tone casual. Mike, following suit with his own gloves, gave the body a quick glance before focusing on Kelly.

"ID says Maddison Harrison, age twenty-two," Kelly started, but the flatness in her voice gave away the truth. "Dorn ran facial recognition. Real age is sixteen."

Marcus grimaced, his usual bravado slipping for a moment as the reality of the situation hit him. "Sixteen? What the hell's a kid doing in a place like this?"

Kelly handed the fake ID to Mike, her jaw tight. "Good question. And she's not the only one. Found the same quality ID on two other bodies over at the booth." Her eyes flicked toward the far corner of the club, where another pair of black body bags lay zipped up, waiting for the morgue to claim them. "Same story, both kids."

Mike turned the ID over in his hand, barely needing a second glance to recognize the poor craftsmanship. "Who's the genius letting a bunch of kids in with this shit?"

Before Kelly could answer, Dorn approached, tablet in hand. His sudden presence made Kelly stiffen, her posture visibly more rigid, but Dorn didn't seem to notice—or he pretended not to. "The bouncer. He was distracted by a fight that broke out just as the kids were coming in. He let them slide so he could deal with the guys throwing punches."

Mike exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Hell of a time to drop the ball."

"Bouncer remembered the two boys at the booth," Dorn continued, tapping on his tablet to pull up more info. "Said they came in with their dates. Names were Tyler James and Zachery Harris, both seventeen."

Marcus sighed, the weight of it all getting heavier by the second. He crouched down next to the body bag, reaching for the zipper. "Let's see what we're dealing with."

Mike's brow furrowed, and he stepped closer. "Marcus, don't-"

But Marcus ignored him. With a quick, sharp pull, he unzipped the body bag and uncovered the face of the girl. What he saw made him jerk back instantly, swearing under his breath. The teenager was streaked with dried blood that had poured from her eyes, nose, and ears, her expression frozen in a final moment of agony.

Mike, used to his partner's squeamishness after all these years, shot him an irritated glance. "Seriously? After everything we've seen, you still can't handle it?"

"Man, shut up," Marcus snapped back, holding his hand up defensively as he gathered himself. "It's gotta be Helios. Only that nasty shit does this."

Reggie, who had been lingering nearby, furrowed his brow. "Helios? What's that?"

Mike crossed his arms, glancing at the bodies being wheeled away. "Its a new drug. Fucked up shit. Started out west, moving its way east. In the last six months, it's been tearing through the southern coast from Louisiana to here. More addictive than heroin, deadlier than fentanyl."

Kelly picked up where Mike left off, her voice clipped and precise. "It's potent. A little too much, and your body goes into overdrive. By the time you know something's wrong, it's too late."

Dorn, still holding his tablet, added, "Gets its name from the warm feeling it gives you. Like you're being hugged by the sun."

Kelly snorted softly, the sound bitter. "Yeah, but it's more like being roasted alive. Burns you from the inside out."

Marcus, having regained his composure, stood up, though his face was still pale. "Helios literally melts your brain. Cooks you. Blood comes out of everything-nose, eyes, ears. Fucks up everything."

He gagged, clearly visualizing the horror in too much detail, and had to cover his mouth. Mike shot him another annoyed look. "Come on, man?"

"I'm good, I'm good," Marcus muttered, waving him off.

Reggie, his eyes drifting toward the row of body bags being taken out by the forensic teams, swallowed hard. "All of this... was because of overdoses?"

The silence that followed was heavier than any answer. Mike and Marcus exchanged a glance, the weight of it unspoken but shared. Kelly turned back to the body at her feet, her jaw clenched, while Dorn stood by, still tapping through files on his tablet before clearing his throat, "Well, there's some good news. We've got one survivor." He tapped on his tablet for a moment before holding it out to show a picture of a teenage girl with bright eyes and a wide smile, frozen in a moment of happier times. "Hannah Davis. She was rushed to the hospital. Unresponsive, but showing signs of life. Her mother's on her way there now."

Marcus, still shaken from the gruesome sight, glanced at the photo with some relief. "That's something, I guess."

"Yeah, but she won't be ready for questioning until tomorrow," Dorn added, lowering the tablet. "Docs need to stabilize her first."

Mike nodded, his gaze shifting toward Armando, who had been standing silently on the edge of the group, his sharp eyes taking everything in but saying little. "What about you, man? You know anything about this Helios stuff?"

All eyes turned to Armando. He shifted slightly but remained composed, meeting their stares without flinching. "Not much experience with it personally," he admitted. "But my mother buying a batch a few years ago. Back when it was still in its testing phases."

Marcus, leaning against one of the club's broken-down tables, raised an eyebrow. "What was it like back then? Anything like this?"

Armando shook his head. "Weak. Barely gave a buzz. Nowhere near lethal. It was sloppy, low-grade. I didn't think much of it."

Marcus let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Times have changed. This shit now—it's evolved."

Mike crossed his arms, his mind already working on the next step. "You remember who was selling it back then? Might give us a lead."

Armando paused, thinking back, before finally answering. "No clue which gang it came from. My mother handled most of the deals. But I picked it up from a man named Rojas in Mexico City."

Mike exchanged a look with Marcus before turning back to Dorn. "Look into it. Find out everything you can on this Rojas."

Dorn gave a quick nod, already typing away on his tablet as he walked off, disappearing into the maze of flashing cameras and bustling investigators. Kelly watched him leave, a tension settling over her that didn't go unnoticed by Mike. He stepped toward her, voice low, his concern clear. "You good?"

Kelly blinked, snapping back to the present. She gave a tight smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just... gotta help bag evidence." She turned quickly, heading toward one of the forensics teams before anyone could push the question further.

Mike's eyes followed her for a moment, his brows knitting together in thought before he let it go. He turned back to Marcus, who was now pulling off his gloves with a sigh.

"Looks like we'll be stopping by the hospital in the morning," Marcus said. "Hannah's the only witness we've got." He tossed his gloves into a nearby bin. "If she makes it. Who knows how much of her brain was fried from this shit."

The two stood in silence for a moment, the flashing lights and hum of the crime scene continuing around them, as the weight of what was ahead settled in.

The warehouse loomed in the shadows, hidden behind a strip of rotting dockyards on the outskirts of Miami. Once a bustling center for trade, it now stood as a crumbling monument to neglect. Its corrugated steel walls were rusted, streaked with years of saltwater spray from the nearby bay. Weeds and wild grasses had forced their way through the cracks in the concrete, their jagged edges curling around broken pallets and abandoned shipping containers. A cracked neon sign, long since burned out, clung to the roof by a single bolt, creaking in the wind like the last whisper of something forgotten.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of chemicals and mildew. The interior, gutted from years of decay, had been crudely transformed into an underworld den. Makeshift tables lined the walls, strewn with plastic tubs and half-empty bottles of unknown liquids. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting the room in a sickly yellow glow that made everything look like it was drenched in oil. The floor was sticky, littered with cigarette butts, empty fast-food bags, and discarded needles.

In the far corner, near a stack of dented metal drums, a group of men worked silently, mixing powders with practiced hands. They wore torn tank tops and bandanas over their faces, their eyes dull and focused on the tasks in front of them. A radio, perched on a filthy crate, hummed out muffled Spanish music, its static blending with the low hum of machines churning in the background. Beyond them, a staircase rose up to a second-floor office. The steps were rusted, each one groaning underfoot as if they might collapse at any moment. Their railings, once painted red, were now chipped and peeling, revealing raw iron beneath. The stairs led up to a large glass window, cracked but still intact, through which the shadow of a man could be seen.

At the bottom of the stairs, a hulking figure emerged from the shadows. His body filled the space, almost too large for the narrow corridor leading to the staircase. Alejandro’s heavy boots thudded against the floor as he moved, the sound cutting through the murmur of the workers and the hum of machinery.

He reached the bottom of the rusted staircase, paused for a moment, and then ascended. Each step groaned beneath his weight, and the metal beneath his boots seemed to scream in protest. His eyes, dark and unyielding, flicked toward the window of the office above. The dim light reflected off the cracked glass, but he could still see the figure inside waiting for him.

Reaching the top, Alejandro stopped in front of a door, its once-white paint chipped and faded to a dull gray. He didn't bother to knock. He shoved the door open with a grunt, the hinges squealing in protest.

Inside, the office was surprisingly neat compared to the chaos below. The furniture was sparse but modern, a sleek black desk with polished edges, two leather chairs positioned neatly in front of it. Behind the desk stood a man with slick black hair, combed back so sharply it looked like it had been painted onto his scalp. He wore a black button-up shirt, its sleeves rolled up to reveal smooth, tanned forearms. His expression was calm, almost bored, as he turned to face Alejandro.

The man with the slick hair raised an eyebrow, awaiting an explanation that brought Alejandro to his office. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together on the desk in front of him, his eyes sharp and calculating. Behind him, a large map of Miami was pinned to the wall, red pins marking locations across the city. A small, gold-plated revolver sat on the desk next to a half-empty glass of whiskey, glistening under the dim light of a single bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Alejandro’s eyes flicked to the gun before meeting the man's gaze again, shifting on his feet. He ran a hand over the tattoos snaking up his forearm before speaking, “That girl," he said, his voice low. "She survived. They've got her at Mercy. Cops all over it."

The man behind the desk didn't flinch. His expression remained unreadable as he stared out the window, watching the silent hum of activity below.

"I see."

Alejandro nodded, though his face remained stone cold. The man picked up his glass of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid inside. "I trust you won't disappoint me, Alejandro," he said, his tone soft but laced with menace.

Alejandro cracked his knuckles, a slow, deliberate sound that filled the silence between them. "I never do."

The man's smile widened just a fraction, his eyes gleaming. "That's what I like to hear." The man gave the slightest tilt of his head, a shadow of a smile ghosting across his lips. “Prepare everything for the morning."

Alejandro's eyes narrowed, his face hardened with understanding.

The headlights of Mike's Porsche cut through the quiet suburban street as they pulled into Marcus's driveway. The hum of the engine faded into the stillness of the night as Mike killed the ignition, but the tension in the car remained thick.

Marcus opened the door and stepped out into the cool night air. The others followed suit, the tension still hanging over them as they approached the front door. Theresa stood waiting, framed by the warm glow of the porch light. Beside her, Valerie stood, her arms crossed and expression unreadable.

"Hey, baby," Theresa greeted Marcus softly, her arms wrapping around him in a comforting hug. She pulled back, studying his face. "You okay?"

"Real bad scene out there." Marcus muttered, running a hand over his face.

Theresa's brow furrowed with concern. "What happened?"

Marcus shook his head, his voice low and tired. "Kids, T. Three teenagers. Overdosed right on the floor of that club. All three gone before we even got there."

Theresa's hand instinctively squeezed Marcus's arm, a soft gasp escaping her lips. "Oh my God..." She knew how much it tore him apart to see kids caught up in the darkness of drugs and crime.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her thumb rubbing small circles on his arm.

Marcus nodded, his jaw tight as he forced the images away.

Reggie cleared his throat and gave a quick nod toward the house. "Where's Megan and the kids?" he asked, looking over at Theresa.

"They're in the back room," Theresa said, her voice soft but steady. "I'm sure they're ready to head out."

Reggie nodded gratefully and disappeared down the hall, eager to see his family and escape the weight of the day.

While Theresa comforted Marcus, Armando drifted toward Valerie. She stood stiffly, her arms still crossed, avoiding eye contact. He stepped closer, hesitating for a moment before wrapping his arms around her. The embrace was tentative, but there was no warmth in her response. She barely moved, her body cold against his.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and careful.

Valerie pulled back slightly, her expression distant. "Fine," she replied, her tone clipped. "What’s the case?"

Armando frowned, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. "That's not what we need to talk about," he said, keeping his voice steady. "I don't wanna keep dodging this, Vee.“

Valerie sighed, rubbing her temple. "Armando, I'm not doing this tonight. I just got off a long flight."

His patience, already thin from the night's events, was wearing even thinner. "Val—"

Before he could press any further, she cut him off, glancing at the yellow suitcase by the door. "I'm staying at a hotel.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. The distance between them felt more than physical now, and the coolness in her voice made his chest tighten. Mike, Marcus, and Theresa, caught in their own conversation, suddenly fell silent as Valerie's statement hung in the air.

Armando turned to her, trying to mask his frustration, though the edge in his voice was hard to miss. "That's fine," he muttered, "I'll go get my stuff."

Before he could move, Mike spoke up, his voice casual but firm. "Hey, hold up. You cant do that, man. You're still under contract to stay here at Marcus' house."

Armando shot him a look, but the reality of his situation left no room for argument. With a quiet sigh, he glanced at her, searching for some kind of compromise.

Theresa, sensing the tension and trying to defuse the situation, stepped forward. "Valerie, really, it's no trouble. You can stay here with us if you want. You don't have to go to a hotel."

Valerie gave her a tight smile, polite but firm. "Thanks, Theresa, but I've already called a ride. They're pulling up now.“

True to her observation, a dark, four door sedan pulled up to the curb. Armando clenched his jaw as he grabbed her yellow suitcase. "I'll walk you out," he said quietly.

Valerie gave a small nod and thanked Theresa again before heading down the pathway. Armando followed closely behind, his frustration mounting with every step.

The night air was cool and still. The soft hum of the idling car was the only sound as they approached. Armando opened the backseat door, and Valerie slid in without a word. He handed her suitcase to the driver and then stepped over to her window as it rolled down.

His voice softened, almost pleading. "Text me when you get there, okay?“

Valerie met his gaze, her expression softer now but still guarded. "I will." She paused, hesitating before adding, "Maybe we can talk tomorrow. Meet up for lunch?"

Armando nodded, a flicker of hope in his chest. "Yeah, come by the station. We can grab something."

Valerie gave a small nod and leaned forward, placing a brief kiss on his cheek. It was quick, more of a gesture than anything intimate, but it left Armando feeling both grateful and hollow at the same time.

He watched as the car pulled away, the taillights fading into the night. The silence settled back over the street, heavier than before. After a long moment, Armando turned and walked back toward the house, the weight of the day pressing down on him.

Mike stepped out of his car; the late evening breeze carrying the scent of saltwater as it drifted up from the bay. His bachelor pad, perched on the edge of Miami's waterfront, stood like a modern fortress of glass and steel. The house was all sharp lines and wide windows, the city's skyline reflecting off the shimmering surface of the infinity pool out back. Inside, dim lights spilled out, casting a soft glow over the manicured steps that led to the front door.

Balancing a container of leftover smothered chicken in one hand and a stack of mail in the other, Mike felt a flicker of recognition at the car parked in his driveway. The Mustang. His lips twitched into a smile. As he stepped through the front door, the comforting hum of home washed over him—the quiet thrum of the air conditioning, the faint sound of the water lapping against the shore. But it was the sight on his couch that really brought the warmth.

Rita, dressed in one of his crisp, white button-downs and a pair of black leggings, was comfortably sprawled out on the couch, chopsticks in hand as she deftly twirled noodles into a bite. The Chinese takeout box balanced on her lap, its open top revealing their favorite order from a spot they hit up way too often.

She paused mid-bite, her eyes darting to him as he entered. "Yours is on the counter," she said with a grin, swallowing her mouthful.

Mike set the leftovers and the mail down on the kitchen island, his gaze catching the familiar red and gold logo of their usual spot. "Damn, you didn't wait for me?" he teased, crossing the room with easy strides.

Rita chuckled, shifting slightly on the couch to make room. "You know I can't resist their noodles."

He leaned down, brushing a kiss against her cheek, the soft scent of her perfume mingling with the savory aroma of takeout. "Good to know I'm not the only thing you can't resist," he murmured, his voice low with amusement.

Rita rolled her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Please, you're not that irresistible," she shot back, her tone laced with mock exasperation. Mike chuckled as he shrugged off his leather jacket, draping it over the arm of the adjacent couch. The light scent of leather and his cologne lingered in the air as he headed toward the kitchen, flipping open the stainless steel fridge.

"I already ate, by the way," he called over his shoulder. "Marcus had me over for dinner."

Rita raised an eyebrow and followed him, curiosity piqued. "Oh yeah? What did Theresa cook this time?"

Mike turned around, one hand rummaging through the fridge while the other held up the plastic bag of Tupperware with the leftovers. "Smothered chicken," he said with a grin, waving the container slightly as proof.

Rita's eyes widened as she groaned dramatically, resting her hand on the kitchen counter. "Did she use the special gravy?"

Mike gave her a knowing look and nodded. "The one and only."

"You should've brought me some!" Rita half-pouted, stepping closer.

Mike laughed as he began placing the takeout box inside the fridge. But before he could close the door, Rita reached for the container in his hand, making a play for the coveted leftovers.

"Oh no, you don't," Mike said, swatting her hand away as she grinned mischievously. "Woman, don’t you touch my chicken."

Rita threw her hands up in surrender, eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're really going to be greedy like that?"

"Hell yeah," Mike quipped, slipping the container safely onto a shelf. "You've got your noodles. This right here"—he tapped the fridge door for emphasis—"is sacred territory."

Rita chuckled, leaning back against the counter. "You're lucky Theresa's food is worth it. Next time, though, I'm claiming first dibs."

Mike leaned forward, resting both hands on the edge of the counter, his dark eyes locking onto Rita's as he absentmindedly fiddled with the buttons of his shirt she wore. The playful tension between them simmered down, replaced by something heavier. "You know," he began, his voice quieter, "if Theresa knew you and I were together, she might’ve packed enough for both of us."

Rita's sigh was almost immediate. She straightened up, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she avoided his gaze. This wasn't the first time he'd brought it up, and she knew where this was going.

"Michael—"

"Nah, don't do that." He shook his head, cutting her off. "It's been almost a year, Rita. A year since we got together, and it's still a secret." His words were firm but not angry, like he was trying to understand, to make her see his side.

Rita closed her eyes for a moment, frustration bubbling up inside her. "We've already had this discussion," she muttered, her tone clipped as she pushed away from the counter.

"We haven't, though," Mike countered, following her movement with his eyes, his voice rising a little. "Every time we try to talk about it, you change the subject or dodge the question. You’re it doing right now."

She turned to face him, her frustration evident in the way her lips pressed into a thin line. "Michael, it's not as simple as you make it sound.“ said Rita as she made her way back to her spot on the couch, wanting the conversation to end.

Mike exhaled, following her movements as they stood by the window. "I'm not saying it's simple. I get that. But we're not just coworkers, Rita. We're… this is more than that."

"And that's exactly the problem," she shot back, pacing now, her voice tight with the weight of what she was trying to say. "I am your captain. The moment people know about us, they'll start questioning everything. Whether I can make unbiased calls, whether I'm doing my job because it's right or because of you."

Mike ran a hand over his face, trying to keep his cool. He knew she was right, but it didn't make it any easier. "I just don't want to keep hiding," he said, his voice softer now. "I don't want to feel like we're sneaking around, like we're doing something wrong."

Rita paused, her back to him for a moment before she finally turned around, her expression softening just a bit. "I don't want that either. But you know how this works. We don't get to have it both ways. And I can't risk everything I've worked for—everything we've worked for—just because we're... together."

Mike let out a long breath, the tension between them hanging thick in the air. "Alright, I'll drop it," he muttered, stepping back.

Rita glanced at him, sensing they both needed a shift. "Since we're already talking work," she began, her voice lighter but still carrying the weight of their jobs, "how was the crime scene? The one you went to tonight."

Mike took a seat on the adjacent sofa to Rita, his arms spreading out across the back, "Seven bodies. All overdosed on Helios. Three of them were underage kids. One of 'em survived, though. She's in the hospital right now, barely hanging on."

Rita nodded, her arms coming to cross over her chest as she crossed her legs on the couch, “Helios is spreading fast. And with this many bodies, someone's got to be moving a lot of it. You know Ernesto Vargas, right? Cuban gang leader?" Mike’s expression tightened as Rita continued, “His body was found this morning at the docks. Him and several of his guys. Shot to hell."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who did it?"

Rita shook her head. "We're still piecing it together. No witnesses, no clear leads. All we know is it was a bust—there was a bag of money left at the scene, untouched. No product.”

Mike crossed his arms, the wheels turning in his mind. "You think it's connected to the nightclub case?"

Rita sighed. "That's the theory. The timelines match up too perfectly. Vargas was a known distributor of Helios and he dies the same day we've got seven OD cases from that same drug. It's too big of a coincidence."

Mike nodded, his expression hardening. "Tomorrow, me, Marcus, Reggie, and Armando are heading to the hospital. See if that witness knows anything that can help us get a lead."

Rita's lips pressed into a line as she considered that. "How's Armando settling in?"

"He's doing alright," Mike replied, though there was something off in his tone. "He gave us a solid lead on someone in the Helios distribution line. Dorn is looking into it"

Rita studied him closely, her sharp instincts kicking in. “That's good news," she said slowly. "But you don't seem thrilled. What's bothering you?"

Mike exhaled, leaning forward. "It's not the intel. Armando's sharp, and he's been pulling his weight." He looked away for a moment, his frustration creeping back in. "It's just... he's got a whole fiancée. Showed up at Marcus' place tonight."

Rita's eyebrows shot up. "A fiancée? And you had no idea?"

"None," Mike said, shaking his head. "Two years and I didn't know a damn thing about it."

Rita's shock softened into confusion. "Is she connected to his past? To the cartel?"

Mike gave a small, bitter laugh. "No. He met her after the McGrath mission. When he was laying low in the Dominican Republic. Her name's Valerie. She nursed him back to health, gave him a place to stay while we were negotiating his deal with the DA."

Rita took a deep breath, processing the new information.

Mike's voice grew quieter, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. "I'm his father, Rita. We're supposed to be building something here, and he's still keeping shit like this from me."

Rita moved from her place to sit beside him, her voice softening as she spoke. "Michael, you've both been through a lot. He's spent most of his life not knowing you. This isn't going to be easy for either of you, but he's here now. You're working together, and that's a start."

Mike nodded, but the frustration still lingered in his eyes. "I just thought by now... I don't know. I guess I hoped we'd be closer. That he'd trust me at least.”

Rita placed a hand on his arm. "Give it time. He's working with you, with AMMO. He's in the states now, which means you have a chance to build that relationship. It's not going to happen overnight, but it will happen."

The tension in Mike's shoulders slowly eased, and he gave Rita a small, appreciative smile. Rita gently squeezed his arm, sensing that he'd had enough of heavy conversations for one day. "Come on," she said softly, standing up and offering her hand. "It's late, and we've got a long day tomorrow."

Mike watched her for a moment before taking her hand and letting her lead him. He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the lingering frustrations and doubts as they reached his bedroom. Rita was already at the foot of the bed, pulling the covers back, her movements fluid and familiar. Mike watched her for a beat, appreciating the quiet routine they'd developed, even if it wasn't something he could show off to the world. Here, in the dim light of his home, it felt... real.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, revealing a bustling hospital corridor bathed in the unforgiving light of late morning. The scent of antiseptic and the quiet murmur of medical staff hit them immediately. Mike led the way, his crisp, tailored jacket cutting a sharp contrast against Marcus's more laid-back attire, while Reggie and Armando followed closely behind, their eyes scanning the sterile surroundings.

They approached the reception desk, where a nurse in light blue scrubs sat typing on a computer, her fingers moving with practiced precision. Mike, ever the charmer, leaned in slightly, flashing his badge with a brief smile.

"Miami PD. " he said, his voice smooth. "Can you tell us if Hannah Davis is able to answer a few questions?"

The nurse's fingers stilled, and she glanced up at the four men before her eyes settled on Mike. She exhaled softly, a shadow passing over her face.

"She's awake in room 324," the nurse said, her voice measured. "But... she's suffered severe damage to her brain." She paused, her gaze shifting slightly as if unsure of how much to reveal. "Her short-term memory has been... hindered."

Marcus, standing just behind Mike, frowned and stepped forward, his brow creasing in confusion. "What does that mean exactly?"

The nurse's eyes flicked to Marcus, her expression softening as she elaborated, "She's lost the ability to make new memories. She won't remember anything that's happened since the incident. Every few minutes, it resets."

A cold, heavy silence settled over the group. Marcus shifted uncomfortably, his usual humor drained from his face as he processed what the nurse was saying. A kid, just sixteen years old, stuck in a loop, her life paused indefinitely because of a drug overdose.

Mike nodded slowly, the gravity of the situation written in the tight set of his jaw. "Thank you," he said quietly, stepping back from the desk. The nurse gave them a sad, knowing look before returning to her screen.As they made their way down the hall, the weight of the news sat heavy on their shoulders.

Marcus stopped just outside the door, his hand on the handle, and glanced over his shoulder at Reggie and Armando. "Hey, y'all hang back. We don't want to overwhelm the girl with too many faces."

Reggie gave a small nod with a sharp, “Yes sir.”while Armando just shrugged, not taking it personally. They both found chairs along the wall in the hallway, Armando into them while Reggie took to standing.

With a quick exchange of looks, Mike and Marcus steeled themselves before entering the room. Inside, the soft hum of machines filled the space, and the sterile white walls were softened only by the presence of an older woman sitting at the bedside. She had dark hair streaked with silver and light eyes that glinted with fatigue and heartache. Beside her, a young girl lay propped up on pillows, her complexion glowing with youthful health that seemed at odds with the reality they had just been told. Hannah Davis looked like any other teenager, but the hollow space between who she had been yesterday and who she was now seemed to fill the room.

The two men greeted the woman, their voices quiet but professional.

"Ma'am, I'm Detective Mike Lowrey, this is Detective Marcus Burnett," Mike began.

The woman stood and offered her hand, her grip firm despite the tremble in her lip. "I'm Helan Davis. Hannah's mother."

Mike nodded, glancing over at Hannah. The girl's eyes flitted between the detectives and her mother, a nervous energy radiating from her. Marcus softened his stance a little.

"Mrs. Davis," Marcus began, "if you're okay with it, we'd like to ask Hannah a few things. We'll take it slow. If she needs a break at any time, just let us know."

Helan hesitated, looking down at her daughter, her fingers brushing lightly against Hannah's hand. "It's okay, honey," she said softly. "Just tell them what you can remember."

Mike stepped closer to Hannah's bedside. "Hannah, we just need to know what happened last night. Anything you remember can help us."

Hannah swallowed, her eyes darting to her mother, seeking permission or maybe forgiveness. When Helan nodded, Hannah looked back at Mike, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maddie... my friend... she wanted to go out with this guy from her Geometry class—Tyler."

Marcus raised a brow, waiting for her to continue. She paused, her eyes welling up with the weight of the truth.

"But Tyler didn’t want to go out unless Maddie found a date for his friend, Zach. So... Maddie asked me to go with them."

Marcus exchanged a look with Mike, both sensing the nerves in Hannah's words.

Hannah hesitated, glancing down at the blanket in her lap. "I thought we were just going to the movies." Her voice wavered. "But then... in the car... Maddie gave me a fake ID. She said we were going to sneak into a club."

Helan's jaw tightened, though she stayed silent, squeezing her daughter's hand.

Mike nodded, taking this in. "Do you know who gave you the fake IDs?"

Hannah shook her head. "Zach got them. From some guy at a gas station... in an alleyway."

Marcus cut in, his tone gentle. "Did you or Maddie plan to meet anyone at the club?"

"No," Hannah whispered, shaking her head again. "At least, not that I knew of."

Mike pressed forward, his voice soft. "What about the vape pen? Where'd you get that?"

Hannah hesitated again, looking back at her mother. Helan squeezed her hand tighter this time, offering a small nod of encouragement.

"Maddie... Maddie went up to a guy at another booth. She got the pen from him. The same guy Zach got his from." Her voice cracked, and her eyes brimmed with tears. She turned to her mother fully now, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to—"

Helan wrapped her arms around her daughter, pulling her close as she started to cry. "Shh, honey. It's okay. We'll get through this," she whispered, her voice steady, though her eyes betrayed her fear.

Mike waited a beat before asking the final question. "Hannah, can you describe the guy Maddie talked to? The one with the vape pen?"

Hannah sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I never saw his face... but I remember he had wings."

"Wings?" Marcus asked, puzzled.

"Yeah," she nodded slowly, her voice distant, like she was trying to reach for the memory through fog. "Tattooed on his chest. They were... big, like angel wings."

Mike and Marcus exchanged a glance. It was a small detail, but one that could make all the difference. Mike nodded, taking a mental note of it.

Just then, Hannah turned to her mom again, her voice smaller this time. "Mom... I need to use the bathroom."

Helan nodded quickly, helping her daughter out of bed. Hannah stood shakily but managed to walk the short distance to the bathroom door on her own, closing it softly behind her.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Helan's composure shattered. Her body slumped as she pressed a hand to her face, choking back sobs that came in short, sharp gasps. Mike shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to approach, while Marcus stood still, giving her a moment.

Helan's voice was choked with emotion as she spoke. "I just... I don't know what happened. I normally keep such close track of her. I'm always so careful. But with my husband away on his business trip—he hasn't answered a single call—and the workload piling up at the office... I thought she was fine. She's always been so independent. I never imagined..."

Marcus stepped forward, his tone comforting. "None of this is your fault, Mrs. Davis. Kids make mistakes, and sometimes things slip through the cracks. It's not a reflection of your parenting."

Helan's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and despair. "Not all kids end up dead or with their memory permanently damaged, Detective. It's not just a mistake. It's—" Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her hands, sobs escaping despite her attempts to stifle them. “She'll never be the same, will she? She won't even remember this conversation in a few minutes."

The weight of that truth hung in the air, pulling all their hearts down with it.

Marcus cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. "We'll find the people responsible for this, Mrs. Davis. I promise you that."

Helan's eyes met his, searching for something—hope, maybe, or a reason to believe. She gave a small nod, wiping her tears away as best she could. Helan wiped her eyes, trying to pull herself together. "The doctors want to run a few more tests before they discharge her later today. They said it's important for Hannah to return to familiar surroundings to minimize her distress when her memory resets."

The weight of Helan's words settled heavily in the room. Mike and Marcus shared a solemn look.

"Mrs. Davis," Mike said gently, "we'll make sure to keep you updated on our progress. We're committed to finding the people responsible for this."

Helan nodded, her face pale but resolute. At that moment, the bathroom door opened, and Hannah emerged, her face fresh from washing up. She looked between her mother and the detectives, her confusion evident.

"Mom, who are they?" Hannah asked, her voice tentative.

Helan's face fell as she realized the implications. "They're detectives from Miami PD, sweetie. They were asking about last night."

The realization hit Mike and Marcus simultaneously. Hannah's memory had reset; the last twenty minutes had vanished from her mind as if they never happened.

The hallway was quiet, the kind of quiet that amplifies every small noise. Armando sat leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest. Across from him, Reggie stood like a sentinel, his posture rigid, the muscle memory of his Marine days still alive in the way he held himself. His eyes were fixed forward, scanning the hall as if waiting for something—anything—to happen.

For several minutes, the only sound was the hum of distant hospital machines and the quiet shuffle of medical staff moving in and out of rooms. But soon, Armando became aware of another sound—a rapid, relentless tapping. His eyes stayed closed, but his brow furrowed in annoyance.

Reggie's foot was tapping against the tile floor, the pace picking up every second. Armando let out a small sigh, trying to ignore it. The tapping, though, became impossible to drown out. After a few more moments, Armando's frustration peaked.

Without opening his eyes or changing his posture, he asked, voice casual yet irritated, "You waiting for permission to piss, or what?"

The tapping stopped immediately. Reggie looked down at his foot, realizing Armando was addressing him. "Uh... no," he said awkwardly, "Detectives Lowrey and Burnett told us to wait out here."

At that, Armando opened one eye and cast a dubious glance in Reggie's direction. "Detectives Lowrey and Burnett, huh?" he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You always refer to them like you're in basic training?"

"It's called respect," Reggie replied, crossing his arms. "Something you wouldn't know much about."

Armando let out a low scoff, now sitting up a little straighter. “Yeah? What's that supposed to mean?"

Reggie shifted his stance, his voice calm but pointed. "You still call your father by his first name like you're a stranger. You clearly don't respect Detective Lowrey."

Armando straightened up completely, his easygoing facade slipping. His jaw clenched as he leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Watch it, man. You don't know anything about me."

Reggie didn't back down, though. "That's the problem, Aretas. No one knows anything about you because you don't let anyone in. Hell, your own father didn't even know you were engaged."

The tension in the air snapped like a wire pulled too tight. Armando shot to his feet, "Mind your fucking business, Sargent Boy Scout."

Reggie stood his ground, meeting Armando's intensity without blinking. The two stood there, locked in a silent standoff, their frustration bubbling to the surface. Just as it seemed things might escalate, a nurse wheeled a cart right between them, breaking through the tension with an obliviousness that only heightened the absurdity of the moment.

Armando clenched his fists, but as the nurse passed, he took a deep breath and forced himself back into the chair, muttering under his breath. He leaned back, trying to settle his irritation, while Reggie returned to his watchful stance, though the air between them remained thick.

It wasn't long, however, before the familiar sound of Reggie's foot tapping started up again, quieter at first but picking up speed just like before. Armando squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation before muttering a curse in Spanish.

"Por el amor de Dios, *For the love of God* go to the fucking bathroom already!"

Reggie, startled, looked down at his foot and then back at Armando. "Uh... yeah, okay. I'll be right back."

As Reggie hurried off down the hall, Armando finally allowed himself a moment of peace, the silence—at last—returning to the hallway.

Reggie rushed down the hospital halls, turning the corner and practically skidding into the men's room. He made a beeline for the first open urinal, the pressure of needing to pee finally releasing with a sigh. As he finished up, he made his way to the sinks, washing his hands with a few quick pumps of soap. His mind was still half outside door 324, keeping an eye on things.

Just as Reggie rinsed his hands, the sound of a toilet flushing drew his attention. From the stall emerged a massive man, easily towering over six feet, he rolled his white sleeves down to cover arms of heavy black tattoos that snaked up farther than Reggie could see. His surgical mask concealed most of his face, but his eyes were sharp, darting around like he was more alert than a typical medical staffer.

Reggie's instincts flared immediately. Something about the guy wasn't right. He washed his hands too fast, barely scrubbing before bolting from the restroom with a casualness that felt forced. Reggie shook the water from his hands and, without thinking, began to tail him.

The guy moved swiftly, but not with the purpose of someone who belonged there. Reggie followed him discreetly through a few turns in the hospital corridor until the man disappeared into a supply closet. Reggie waited a moment, leaning casually against the wall, his mind racing. Something about this situation screamed wrong. He glanced down the hallway but stayed put, waiting for the man to reemerge.

After a few minutes, he couldn't afford to leave his post any longer. He made his way back to Armando, who was still lounging in his chair with an indifferent expression. Reggie sat down, his eyes never leaving the supply closet.

Armando, noticing the tension, raised an eyebrow and followed Reggie's gaze. "Why you staring like that?"

Reggie leaned forward slightly, his voice low. "The man that just came outta the bathroom—big, tatted up, scrubs and a mask—he's not right. He went into that supply closet, but something about him... it didn't feel like hospital staff."

Armando straightened up in his chair, shifting to get a better look at the man, who had just emerged from the supply closet and was now rifling through some files at a nearby desk. Nobody else seemed to notice him, which struck Armando as odd. He wasn't interacting with any other staff, like he was trying too hard to blend in.

"You sure about this?" Armando asked, his eyes narrowing.

Reggie nodded. "Problem is, I can't act without approval from the detectives, you know? I’m still a rookie."

Armando rolled his eyes, pushing himself out of the chair. "Rookie my ass," he muttered, brushing past Reggie.

"Wait—Armando!" Reggie whispered urgently, trying to stop him. But Armando was already halfway across the hall, ignoring the warning.

Armando walked over to the vending machine, the perfect cover to observe the guy without being obvious. He punched in some buttons for a coffee, all the while stealing glances at the man rifling through the files. From his position, Armando could see the bulge at the man's ankle—a telltale sign of a concealed weapon. Definitely not standard hospital issue.

Just as Armando's eyes moved up from the ankle holster, the man turned, catching him watching. For a split second, their eyes locked.

Then, without warning, the man bolted.

The files scattered to the floor as he took off down the hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing against the sterile tiles. Armando cursed under his breath, spilling the hot coffee as he turned to run after the guy.

Armando's boots pounded against the hospital tiles as he sprinted after the tattooed man, his heart racing but his mind focused. He dodged nurses, rolling carts, and patients being wheeled down the halls, keeping his eye on the man as he knocked over everything in his path. Chairs clattered, trays crashed, and people were shoved aside as the guy barreled through the corridor like a wrecking ball.

Despite the chaos, Armando managed to avoid the obstacles, slipping past tumbling chairs and hurdling overturned carts with ease. Just when he was about to close the distance, the tattooed man sent an older woman's wheelchair spinning into the middle of the hall, knocking her to the ground. Armando gritted his teeth as he jumped over her fallen form. He cursed under his breath and, despite the rush of adrenaline and frustration, skidded to a stop.

"Damn it!" he muttered, turning back.

The tattooed man was getting farther away, but Armando couldn't ignore the woman. He rushed back, kneeling beside her as she reached out, confused and shaken. Her face was pale, her breaths shallow with shock. Speaking softly in Spanish, Armando reassured her as he gently helped her up and steadied her in her wheelchair.

"Está bien, señora. ¿Estás herido?" *Its okay, ma’am. Are you hurt?* he asked, his voice calm despite his urgency.

The woman blinked up at him, her hands trembling as she gripped the arms of the chair. "No, no, gracias... estoy bien. Solo me asusté..." * No, no, thanks... I'm fine. I just got scared...*

"Lo siento mucho," *I am very sorry* Armando said quickly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before checking her over one last time before he bolted back down the hall. The chase wasn't over.

Armando pushed the door to the stairwell open with his shoulder, his eyes scanning downward as he leaped down the first flight of stairs. The clattering of hurried footsteps echoed beneath him, and a flash of a bald head caught his attention a few floors below. That had to be him.

He jumped two steps at a time, his breaths coming in short bursts as he descended rapidly. The tattooed man had a good lead, but Armando wasn't about to let this guy get away. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, sharpening his senses. Every turn of the stairwell felt tighter, every floor a blur as he pounded down after his target. The sounds of the man's movements echoed in the concrete stairwell, guiding him like a beacon.

When Armando finally hit the ground floor, he could hear the heavy thudding of footsteps just ahead. He tore through the lobby doors, his eyes locked on the back of a man sprinting toward the exit. Armando lunged forward, closing the distance in a final burst of speed before he tackled the man from behind, sending them both crashing to the floor.

They hit the ground hard, sliding across the smooth tiles. Armando wrestled with the man, using every bit of strength he had to pin him down. It took a few seconds of struggling, but eventually, Armando managed to flip the guy over and press his arm into the man's chest to keep him still.

But as soon as the man turned, Armando froze. It wasn't the tattooed guy. Not even close.

The bald man beneath him, wide-eyed and gasping for breath, was in his fifties, a look of sheer terror plastered on his face. His hospital scrubs had become bunched up and he looked nothing like the muscular figure Armando had been chasing.

"What are you doing?!” the man shouted, trying to wriggle free.

Armando blinked in disbelief, the realization sinking in hard. He'd grabbed the wrong guy.

"Shit!" Armando muttered, quickly letting go and jumping to his feet.

The man scrambled to his feet, his face flushed with anger and confusion, but Armando was already scanning the lobby. His true target was nowhere to be seen.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Tiny bit of Monster AU Brainrot-

Malleus calling human Yuu Child of Humans instead of Chile of Men

Human Yuu singing Human by Rag'nBone Man (I have had this idea for way too long)

Human Yuu just minding their business in gym class running laps, and sees Vargas running at them full speed in his monster form for the first time, scaring them so bad that they start haul assing to the woods near the field

Human Yuu starts gushing to Malleus about how cool he is, saying things like, "Your horns are so awesome and beautiful!" and "Your wings look so big! And your tail look so shiny and smooth too! I bet Vil could only dream about having a tail like yours!" (I just wanna shower him with my own endearing praise~)

I’d actually been debating for a while how Malleus would refer to Yuu as the last known human, though “Child of Humans” does sound fitting. /)Ò^Ô I think I'll keep it that way!

As for the song “Human” by Rag’n’Bone Man, I honestly hadn’t heard that song until now and it gives me some interesting ideas on how some monsters may have believed in the past that—according to mythology—most humans were the bad ones and “put the blame on” them for certain things happening the way they did. For the researchers to be looking towards Yuu for answers to things that happened centuries ago, or for those who grew up hating human mythology in general and blaming Yuu for these things…I can imagine it would cause a lot of stress and anxiety even for the calmest and most collected person. Ó^Ò

This could also segway into how the monsters would discover the human penchant to express their emotions in a way that also sends a message, and if someone were to catch wind of Yuu singing this song (or happen to stumble upon it like the Light Music Club did)? Things would likely start taking on a different tone as the monsters realize that Yuu is just as much an innocent who knows nothing of what happened in the past: only that they were alone in the world, and that—like the monsters themselves—humans can make mistakes too.

Of course, being able to share songs that hold a special meaning to Yuu is going to be a magical bonding experience! ÓvÒ/)

Omg, Yuu’s very first day in gym class would have been chaotic 🤣 Let’s see how that first day went down…>3>

Under a read more due to length!

///

FWEET!!!

“Alright, everyone, line up! You have one minute to stretch before we begin doing laps around the track.”

Yuu felt small compared to the much larger monster students around them, realizing that some towered nearly nine feet tall. ‘I’m going to get trampled,’ they thought nervously. ‘I’m in a strange world, forced to attend school, and I’m literally going to get trampled by giant humanoid monsters doing PE.’

“Hey, Yuu!” a familiar voice called, snapping them out of their thoughts as they turned to see Ace waving them over. “What are you doing in the middle?”

“Huh? I’m…running…I think?” Yuu replied, feeling self-conscious about the multiple sets of eyes now on them. Glancing at the multiple pairs of hooves and claws, they muttered, “And trying not to get trampled over…”

“Don’t worry, you won’t get trampled underfoot,” came Coach Vargas’ response as he appeared in front of them, gesturing with a large claw to the inner track ring. “Smaller students will start out on the inside and will work their way towards the middle with everyone else. Though seeing as you lack any tail or strong legs like the others, this will be a test for me to see how fast and strong you are as a human. Just keep running, and you’ll do fine. And if you fall behind, I’ll help you keep a good pace!”

Nearby Yuu could hear a couple of students snicker and whisper, “Humans must fall flat on their face all the time without a tail. Just look at those weird legs!”

Whether they meant for Yuu to hear them or not wasn’t clear, but before they could think of a retort, they jumped when the coach blew the whistle again. “Stretches are over—get into position!” he bellowed, Yuu immediately scurrying over to join the other smaller students. “On your mark…get set…GO!!”

FWEEEET!!

In an instant, most of the monster students took off, most galloping on all fours while others somehow kept pace on two legs before the rest of the students followed suit. Yuu did okay at first, keeping pace behind a large eared faun with violet hair easily enough. But by the time they came close to finishing the first lap they’d fallen far behind, forced to stick as close to the edge of the track as possible even as a literal stampede of students charged past them.

‘Just keep running,’ they thought, feeling their cheeks burn with embarrassment as the students that mocked them earlier ran past with cackles of amusement. ‘I just gotta keep running…’

Rrrrrrr….

‘Just keep running, just keep running, running, running,’ Yuu chanted in their mind, keeping their eyes on the student in front of them as a pacer as they finished their second lap. ‘What do we do? We run, run, ru-’

“Gah! Not again!” someone yelped, running past them like a scared rabbit. A moment later the student they were following glanced over his shoulder, his eyes growing wide in pure fear and panic as he too ran faster. What was going on…?

“Rrrrrr…rrrAAAWOOOH!”

Hearing the bellowing roar and the shredding of fabric behind them, Yuu’s head whipped around to see Coach Vargas’ frame grow larger, fur covering every inch of his body as his face pushed out to form a distinctly canine-like snout while his arms grew into massive, long clawed paws. They’d wondered what sort of bear-like monster the coach was, but now they realized that—like Professor Crewel and Professor Trein—he was a werebeast…a werebear.

Charging straight FOR THEM!?!?!

“Oh, Sugar Honey Iced Tea!!!!” Yuu screamed, flat out bolting the moment the transformed coach began to charge after them. They couldn’t let him bite them—they didn’t want to be a werebear!! “Shit shit shit shit SHIT!!! AAAAAAAA-!!!!”

Students that had passed by them before now squawked as Yuu passed them, Yuu’s shoes pounding against the compact rubber ground while their heart hammered in their chest. Blood thundering in their ears, they didn’t hear the others calling their name as they bolted off the track, running full speed into the forest. All they could hear was the earth-shaking steps of the massive werebear charging after them, his growls and roars urging them to run faster and faster until—

/Sometime later/

“Can someone please explain to me why the human is stuck in a tree?” Professor Trein asked, Lucius giving a low growl to match his master’s scowl.

“They climbed up the tree on their own! Honestly, I’ve never seen any student run or climb so fast during PE.”

Tilting his head back to look up into the tree, Crowley heaved a tired sigh as he spotted Yuu’s terrified face barely peeking over the large branch they’d wrapped themselves around. They hadn’t moved an inch since he arrived, their eyes locked onto the coach with a ‘thousand-yard stare’ and knuckles turning white. “Did you even warn them of your particular training style?” the headmaster asked, though he had a feeling he knew the answer.

“I told them that if they fell behind, I would help them keep their pace,” came the response. “They’ve exceeded my initial expectations and even surpassed a few of their fellow runners!”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure it was an impressive sight to see, and I admire your dedication to ensuring students get the most out of their exercise. That, however, doesn’t explain how we’re supposed to get what is quite literally the last living fragile human down from the tree before they get hurt.”

“Ah…right. Don’t worry, I’ll get them down! It’s been a while since I last pulled a tree out by the roots. Maybe I can shake them out?”

“Fragile, Ashton! Fragile!” Crewel growled out.

In the end, the staff somehow managed to get Yuu safely down on the ground. It took Crewel’s reassurances that—no—Coach Vargas doesn’t bite the students during his “encouragement runs” and that—no—it is highly unlikely that Yuu would even become a werebeast if they had been bitten by accident. Needless to say, Yuu was given a pass from Vargas running behind them in his werebear form, and he made a bit more of an effort to keep pace with them in his normal humanoid form to encourage them.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean that the rest of the students were safe if he caught them falling behind!

///

Pfft…yeah, it went about as well as you’d expect when being chased by a bear. 😂 At least now they know that they can outrun him, and the other monster students got to witness the magic of human adrenaline in action! 0v0

Malleus interacting with Yuu…I can imagine that—as a dragon monster—he would sympathize with Yuu’s situation as much as Vil in how few both their species were. Perhaps that’s what first drew him to interact with them the first night he realized that Ramshackle was no longer an empty tomb—but rather, a sanctuary to protect something precious.

And precious they were, as with each interaction he had with them, the more he grew fond of Yuu’s strange human ways. Their admiration for him was tempered by pure, innocent curiosity as they speak. Each question they ask, he obliges with an amused smile or allows them a chance to touch his wings and horns. Each praise they sang to him filled him with warmth, freely allowing their hands to glide over the feathers of his wings or brush against the scales of his tail.

His mirth and amusement grew when they began to compare his beauty with Vil’s own, seeing their eyes light up with each new discovery or flicker of power he showed them. He may have grown used to hearing Sebek’s praise, though there was something endearing hearing a fabled human compliment him as though he were the only dragon fae monster in the world…and perhaps he was.

At least in that regard, he would be content to share this companionship with his Child of Humans.

[animalsalvationassociation]

A.S.A. Octonauts Headcanons:

Pt. 3 – Peso:

[ This entry is not historically accurate to the areas mentioned. This is a rewritten/vamped fan version of lower Latin America in order to fit the narrative that I have created for this world. I have however tried to keep it regionally accurate to respect Latin America itself. ]

Peso Pedro Gentoo Perez was born in Ushuaia, the capital of Tierra del Fuego in Argentina.

He is the third born, with two older siblings and one younger brother. Pogo (Older Brother) and Piñata (Older Sister, lol I'm not judging I just wanna know how we got here), with Pinto being the youngest of the siblings.

Peso doesn’t have very many memories of his father (mostly trauma related) but he does know that when he was young his father was a factory operator. His father was in charge of overseeing not only the machinery but also the factory floor. Peso isn’t quite sure what kind of factory it was but it was good money and got his family through some very tough years.

His father unfortunately passed due to an accident at the factory involving a fire and several gas leaks.

Peso doesn’t have very many memories of his father (mostly trauma related) but he does know that when he was young his father was a factory operator. His father was in charge of overseeing not only the machinery but also the factory floor. Peso isn’t quite sure what kind of factory it was but it was good money and got his family through some very tough years.

His father unfortunately passed due to an accident at the factory involving a fire and several gas leaks.

He had gotten trapped underneath a set of cross beams when the ceiling collapsed and didn’t make it out before the entire building combusted.

His father was a kind man with a strong heart, and even in the circumstances he was in he did his very best to be a good person and take care of his crew.

The memory trauma I’m referring to is called Dissociative Amnesia or Traumatic Bereavement. When a traumatic experience (however powerful it is) happens (death, grief, abuse, war, or natural disasters), in order to protect itself the brain forces itself to forget.

Piñata also experiences memory lapses too but not on the level Peso does. Pogo is the only one who seems to remember enough, but he tends to shut away mentions of his father.

His mother Pricilla also worked. She was one of many nurses who oversaw penguin laborers, and although she never got a degree or went to school she was very well versed in the ways of medicine. This is where Peso learned his love of helping people.

She became a widow months before she laid Pinto's egg. After his father died several members of their family moved in to help take care of them, and they've lived there ever since. (Auntie Papita, Cousin Petina, Great Uncle Pepe, and Grandma Perdita)

Precilla would later remarry a king and very quiet sheep dog names Eriko (Mucuchies aka Venezuelan Sheepdog, born/raised in Venezuela but later move to Chile where they met.)

Peso has a large family.

During his childhood there were several epidemics that took out a large portion of the penguin/animal populace, so he’s very happy to have been able to keep his.

His family consists of several different species of penguins as well as multiple career paths, currently he and his two older siblings are the only ones to have had the opportunity to go to school, as well as their cousin Petina.

Of course Peso has very fond memories of growing up, especially with that family, but that’s not to say it was an easy childhood.

Even when Peso was young the community he lived in struggled, not only because of the epidemics but the working environments as well. They were known to be harsh, non-accommodating to the local populations (not just penguins), and overall low paying.

But back then work was work, no matter the pay. As long as you had a job, your family survived.

In those years even in some parts now, the lower areas of South America were plagued with factories and war bound organizations including the military.

Clear skies were few and far between as the air was constantly being pumped with smog, not only from the machines that were used but from the burning of blubber that kept them fueled.

When he was little Peso would go with his mother and the other nurses (some doctors would accompany every now and then, but hospitals were usually very busy) to visit the outer colonies. Sometimes even leaving for weeks at a time depending on how far they had to travel, or how affected the area was with sickness.

This of course, as I mentioned earlier, was how Peso learned to love medicinal practices. He would often claim that he would be just like his mama when he grew up, that he would do anything to help someone in need. And really . . . all he needed was a start.

Peso was roughly thirteen when the Animal Salvation Association (The A.S.A.) began to make efforts to aid communities like his. Sending peace treaties and resolving conflicts through pacifism. Because of these efforts his community began to change and kids like him were now able to go to school and receive education.

It was only when Peso learned about the “Thermal Adaptor Armor™ or T.A. Armor™ ” that he was able to realize his dream of becoming a doctor.

T.A. Armor is a body suit (Created by Lwazii Ntuli) with the ability to regulate internal body temperatures in countered climates. With this suit, warm/cold blooded creatures will receive proper fluctuating temperatures programmed to keep their bodies at the proper condition in order for them to survive.

Peso worked hard to learn and adapt to this new style of teaching. Spending years of his young life applying himself to his studies as well as any medical knowledge he could find. At seventeen he applied for his first internship in a schooling program created by Professor Theodore A. Inkling dutifully named “The Future Ahead.”

With his hard work he graduated early, and it was only when he applied for the Harbor Grove Institute a very sought after university within the United Kingdoms that he earned the attention of Professor Inkling himself, who just so happened to be the headmaster at the time.

Peso made the bravest move to travel all the way to the UK, and with the money he was able to earn working several jobs through the A.S.A.’s new programs, he was able to afford not only the suit itself but the tuition as well.

During his second term Professor Inkling sent him a scholarship that would carry him through the next two years.

He of course took the opportunity with great excitement, and finally Peso was given the advantage and he worked hard to keep it.

Peso was just a week from graduation when Professor Inkling offered him a spot as a Medical Officer for the Octonauts, and he’s been there ever since.

It wasn’t until Peso joined the Octonauts that he was able to really use his skills. Most of his experience came from helping his mother (now retired) in the field, while school only taught him the book stuff.

Note: The first season of the show really highlights Peso’s learning process. He’s naturally caring but because of his lack in field training he’s very hesitant to do things unless it is an extreme medical situation. He holds himself back, but through the caring nature of his team you really get to see Peso shine and find confidence in himself.

Fun Facts:

Fav. Gup obviously the Gup-E it's literally an ambulance.

Fav. Fish/Ocean Creature . . . probably the Snot Sea Cucumber, I mean let’s be honest here, we see Peso’s true form whenever he makes “s-not” jokes. Although a close second would probably be the Humuhumunukunukuapwa’a.

Peso comes from a very musical inclined family, he of course plays the xylophone and maracas (although I think he would also be ✨ magical✨ at the guitar, hopefully they make guitars Peso size because otherwise I might die from laughter) while the rest of his family varies in other instruments including singing/dancing.

Peso slept with a nightlight the first year of college, after that he felt comfortable enough where he didn’t have to use it. It’s only when he joined the Octonauts that it manages to slip into his belongings. 💙😭💔

(Peso could cure cancer if he wanted to but then he’d be out of the job . . . you know it’s true)

I’ve said this before . . . so here’s an excerpt:

I would love to be at one of their family functions

Just imagine someone’s Quinceanera!

Or even dinner at Grandma’s

Yum 🤤

(Yes I realize Grandma Perdita lives with them but STILL)

Every Sunday the crew gets to make video calls to their loved ones to check in and Peso makes sure to call his family at a certain time on the dot. If he doesn’t, his mother and Auntie Papita have been known to frantically call the Octopod thinking something is wrong.

It doesn’t help when there are actual emergencies but Peso and the crew can’t help but appreciate the concern.

Peso is an advocate for good health. (duh lol)

Everyone gets a monthly check up on the octopod (some more than others *cough, cough* Kwazii).

He is constantly making sure that everyone is getting the rest they need every night as well as keeping a constant eye on the Vegimals’ meal plans.

He also cares a TON about mental health.

That was one of the major practices he looked into before joining. I feel like he’s the type to research until he’s literally run out of every book/search engine in his possession.

I think a huge part of that research would have something to do with documentaries. Not so much psychology itself but actual examples from first hand accounts.

Ex: Astronauts, Ocean Explorers/Scientists, Team Dynamics within research groups, etc., etc.

He wants his team to be healthy in all aspects, so in a way I think Peso (Dashi may fall into this category too ngl) would become the group “therapist”, aka the shoulder to lean on when things got rough.

He actually does this very well and I know that the team would benefit from someone being the listening ear. Especially Barnacles and Kwazii.

Peso would be an amazing cook, and to be completely honest with you I think the only reason the Vegimals know how to cook is because of him.

Like I’m sure the others can cook to a certain extent like Dashi, Tweak, and Professor Inkling. Although Inkling is more of a baker as well as Barnacles, but Dashi and Tweak have at least some family recipes from when they were growing up.

I don’t trust anyone else. *cough, cough* Shellington and Kwazii (aka the only ones left) . . . I mean it’s not for lack of trying *sweats in memory of a pirate related foods*

Lastly I’d like to say that I am seriously impressed with Captain Barnacles in this series. He has helped Peso so much in becoming the truest version of himself. Having him step in instead of others (like Kwazii) and allowing him the chance to make decisions without his help.

I think it also goes to show that even in those moments, Barnacles is always there. Not just because he’s protective, but because he knows Peso can do it, and he’s really only there in case Peso needs a reassuring paw even when he’s far away.

A great example is the Vampire Squid episode.

Barnacles gives Peso the opportunity to test his abilities in a dark and albeit very scary place. He and Dashi are constantly monitoring Peso’s movements to make sure he’s okay but they don’t do anything until he has the chance to reach out.

When Peso shows that he needs help the captain allows Kwazii to go first. He knows Kwazii is capable of deterring any true dangers, knowing that he’ll make sure Peso is safe and has control of the situation.

And yes I do realize that Kwazii crashed the Gup-B, but I mean it wasn’t actually his fault . . . for once. (He just gets excited when he sees his friends, so he tends to shout and scare every fish in a ten mile radius away)

Captain Barnacles only comes after Kwazii has crashed, and he wants to make sure that they’re alright. But when Peso shows that he wants to step up and go at the rest of the mission alone Barnacles lets him. Leaving him with a reassurance that if he needs anything they’ll be there waiting for him.

Just the amount of faith that he has for Peso is truly touching. He is so proud of Peso and so supportive.

(Sorry that’s the end of my rant. I just needed to add some Barnacles appreciation to this post. MEOMI and BBC really gave us the perfect trio, I’d be lost without my boys.)

The Perez Family:

Mateo (Father) / Precilla (Mother) / Eriko (Step-Father) / Pogo (Older Brother) / Piñata (Older Sister) / Peso / Pinto (Younger Brother) / Auntie Papita / Petina (Cousin, Papita’s Daughter) / Great Uncle Pepe (Perdita’s Brother) / Grandma Perdita (Precilla’s Mother) / Rocko (Cousin) / Uncle Robert (Rocko’s Father) / Auntie Rachel (Rocko’s Mother) / Ooju (Cousin) / Uncle Oscar (Ooju’s Father) / Auntie Olivia (Ooju’s Mother)

–

(Not me sleeping in till 3, forgetting to work on this because I was so preoccupied with drawing Y/N & Fae, pausing the video I was watching halfway through only to panic at the time and rush this . . . well I wouldn't say it was rushed. I started at what? 7:30?? And it literally just hit midnight?? Anyways happy sleeping, I'm gonna hate myself when I have to get up at 9 for work.

Hope ya'll enjoyed the Peso content! I've had this backstory in mind for a while and now I finally get to share it. I think Barnacles' second headcanon is going to be a half post as in, that one is going to be more about his adult life and I may end up posting two headcanons that day. We'll see.)

Kwazii / Captain Barnacles ( 1 / 2 ) / Dashi / Tweak / Shellington / Inkling

[ This is a Octonauts AU, in no way is this canon to the OG storyline. ]

[pouncequick]

Thoughts on floor and what the right podium is...

I'm speaking there as an experienced fan, not as a professional judge. When I was watching, the clear podium to me was Andrade-Biles-Barbosu. I would have had four and five as Chiles and then Voinea, but that's less relevant at this point. In terms of balancing all the inquiries, etc... If Voinea didn't appeal the ND, she didn't appeal it. I read someone giving a good reason to why the line judge may not have given her the benefit of the doubt if they were unsure--Voinea could appeal her ND, but if she went out and it wasn't taken and that cost someone else a medal, that person would have no appeal. Did the OOB happen? It's clear her heel didn't go out; I have yet to see a picture or zoomed video of the big toe. Jordan's Gogean wasn't complete, but the judges inaccurately gave it to her on inquiry. We've learned the inquiry was late, but there is also an inherent unfairness to giving the last competitor less time to file than the other 7 athletes, and how much should that unfairness in the rules be taken into account? And then there's the issue of how much of the judges' rulings for one federation another federation can appeal--apparently, they can appeal if the judges allowed the inquiry improperly, but not if the judges judged the inquiry improperly. So in terms of if it was the podium it originally should have been, I think it is, with room for the kind of argument we all enjoy so much. I guess it's a lot trickier to say that it's the right podium, given all the events that followed.

All in all, this is just a disaster.

[judysxnd]

Pictures you take of Pedro : Vacation edition

I don’t know why but I struggle to do these? Not like writing them, but with the pictures. Every time I put another pic, it just puts the same as the first one 😭

A week off from work and you were both gone to the beach, needing to feel the hot sun on your skin, and swim a little. You enjoyed to stay on the sand, tanning, while Pedro went to swim. At some point he came back and sat next to you. You were on your phone, reading some articles, often texting some of your friends.

“How do you even see the screen?” Pedro just said as he was watching you carefully, his gaze wandering on your body from time to time. You laughed.

“I-I absolutely do not struggle to read at all” you said sarcastically. “I was bored” you shifted to face him, still holding your phone.

“You should have joined me, the water’s good”

“And leaving our stuff alone?”

“Good thinking” you both laughed. Your eyes went back to your phone, but you both kept talking. You wanted to unlock your phone but instead you opened the camera, so you decided to take this picture.

You never went to Chile, and Pedro took things in hand and booked a flight for the both of you to go there for two weeks. And it was amazing, he showed you so many things. One time, as you were walking back from the beach, he noticed a stand where you could drink coconut water directly in the coconut. He took your hand and just walked there. He took two, and you both sat down next to the stand and started to drink. You took this picture, locking a memory for life. It was one of the greatest trip ever.

You went hiking one day as the weather wasn’t too hot. You traveled to your family for a week during spring, and, not going to lie, it was like you were lost in the middle of the forest. But you took advantage of this, and decided to hike. As you did, at some point, (don’t even know how), you ended to a lake.

“The water doesn’t seem to be that cold” Pedro said

“Wait- you want to go in?” You laughed “we didn’t even take bathing suits” he smirked at you

“Who said we need them? There’s no one around us”

“You naughty boy” he just took his clothes off and went it the water, just like that. You took your phone out and took a picture, already knowing how you could caption it : “I’m pretty sure the water is under ten degrees but he went anyway”.

“A little cold at the beginning but you get used to it. Come on!”

You touched the water with your hand and gasped.

“A LITTLE cold? Are you kidding? It’s freezing! You’re going to get sick!”

“It will only be worth it if you join me!” He said, giving you puppy eyes that he knows you won’t resist. And he was right. You sighed, anticipating the cold water and getting sick afterwards, but you took your clothes off and joined him.

“Oh my god- why!! It’s freezing” he laughed

“Come here” he took your hands to get you closer to him.

“I hate you”

“Sure” he smiled, and kissed you. You stayed very close to him so that his heat could warm you up, as you enjoyed the view, talking a little, and also being children and playing around. You both ended up being sick afterwards but you had a lot of fun. He was right, it was worth it.

After hiking for a few hours to the mountain hut where you were going to stay, you took a break to enjoy the view. The mountains around, the sun, the temperature was perfect. You really enjoyed being able to travel a lot with Pedro. You weren’t used to that and always regretted not traveling before, but it was worth the wait.

You were sitting on a bench, and Pedro was standing a little further in front of you, feeling the warmth on him. You were taking pictures of the mountains, but in the middle, you took this one. This trip was definitely going to be added to the best ones.