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fireflykaizoku · 2 years

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Vampire!Kid x Reader | Red Eyes

i started writing this for halloween, so let's pretend it's still halloween pls thank you! i also thought this would be a multichapter, but let's be honest: i often forget to update the multichapter fics. i may post some special chapters

You came from a family of vampire hunters. So ever since you were a child, you remember seeing your parents, sometimes even your grandparents, go out for long travels to hunt those “awful and vile creatures”, as they said. The feeling was mutual, naturally. Vampires hated you and all the hunters.

Your family held a long time grudge for them due the fact that decades ago, a vampire turned a family friend into one of them. They wanted revenge, and finding the creature that took your friend wasn’t enough for them, and it wasn’t enough for you either.

So that’s how you lived your whole life until now, having an aversion for vampires, and it felt like it was your duty to keep the “family business” and hunt as many as you could. So when you turned fifteen, you started to hunt with your family as well.

Honestly, and you didn’t really want to brag, you became one of the best at your job. You knew you wouldn’t rest until you exterminated each vampire that crossed your path.

While some of them used to fear you, one of them mocked you. He was sarcastic and annoying. Your encounters always turned into a fight and a cat and mouse chase, and whenever you met for another battle, it was hard to tell if both of you lost or if both of you won.

The fights were always cut short, because of course, the vampire with red eyes and pale skin was powerful, but the sun was still one of his weaknesses.

So you both always left with the promise of a rematch. The two of you were equally strong and smart, that explains why there was never a winner.

But how come the two ended up here, so close to the creature you used to hate? The first time you were so close to him was during one of the battles, you were challenging each other, mocking each other even. Eustass Kid, the strongest vampire you’ve ever met, found amusing and admired how you didn’t fear him.

You were the first vampire hunter that didn’t run as soon as you both met. Maybe that’s how it started, the mix of passion and hate; how exciting it was to challenge each other and the whole battle for power. Even though the crucifix around your neck made him feel uneasy and irritated, the redhead couldn’t help finding it amusing to be face to face with you.

Eustass Kid knew he had to conquer you.

And he did.

It took him a long time, but it was worth it. He became so irresistible, maybe because he was the first man, human or not, not to fear you. He challenged you.

And while Eustass Kid only wanted something physical, with hate and desire in the same proportion, the strongest vampire started to feel weird. To feel irritated without you and hate whenever you had to leave.

Your encounters happened very often, but suddenly you stopped meeting him. It had been a week, two… A month even, and Eustass got worried. What a joke, a vampire worried about a pathetic human.

His worries were confirmed after he found you. Kid looked everywhere for you, searching for information of your whereabouts. And when he finally found you, you were weak in bed. The vampire sat on the window, looking at you.

— Why haven’t you told me? — he asked as soon as you laid your eyes on him. — Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?

You rolled your eyes, making them hurt for a second.

— Hello to you too, Eustass. — the silence lasted so long. He was still waiting for your answer. — I didn’t want you to worry. But my situation isn’t the best. I assumed I’d just stop appearing and you’d… Forget about me.

— Great fucking job! And how did that work, huh? — he exclaimed. — Invite him to come in now.

Oh, yes. Sometimes you forgot he was still a vampire and had to be invited.

— Don’t you want to come in, please, Eustass Kid? — you asked.

The red haired vampire entered your room, sitting by your side on the bed without saying a word. He was analyzing your situation, seeing your fragile body.

— I can help you. — he started, making you raise an eyebrow. He knew many things, but for sure he wasn’t a doctor. — If you turn into a vampire, you…

Kid didn’t need to finish the sentence for you to reply right away. What an awful joke was that?

— No! — you tried to say as loud as you could. — Are you insane? A vampire? Seriously, Kid? — you coughed.

— You’ll be able to live! — he got up, raising his voice. — Or you’d rather want to suffer to death?!

You coughed, covering your mouth with your hands, only to notice the small droplets of blood all over it. It was hard not to freak out at this point.

Fuck.

You were definitely getting worse.

— Yes. — it was all you could say, your voice sounded almost like a whisper at this point, unable to say a full sentence without feeling the air leave your lungs. — I’d rather…

Your stubbornness used to amuse Kid when things were funny and not a life or death situation, but now, when you were so sick and who knows what could happen to you, it started to piss him off. Even though you both used to be rivals, enemies even, trying to kill each other whenever you could, the redhead vampire couldn’t lie, he didn’t know what he’d do without you.

— I don’t want to turn into something… — you started, closing your eyes, feeling your chest hurt from taking a deep breath. — That I spent my life trying to kill. It’s against my morals.

— Your morals? — he mocked without even wanting to, it was just too ironic to talk about character and morals now. — With what we have? Seriously, do you think we can talk about morals?

You grunted, trying to move away from the vampire, but your body was too weak to even move. Kid sighed.

— Alright, do you really want to know why I want to do this? — he asked, walked around your room until he stopped, turning his back to you. He, the strongest vampire, wasn’t supposed to have any weakness or feelings, but there he was. — Because I’ll live forever, and knowing that I’ll have to live for the whole eternity without you makes me feel… Weird.

You widen your eyes, not expecting these words to leave his lips. It was the closest to a confession that you’ve ever got in all this time that you were together.

— Weird… How? — your weak voice asked, not trying to get more romantic and cute words from him, but genuinely curious to know.

— It’s a weird sensation, alright? — Kid asked, already about to get defensive. — I don’t like it!

In other words, he’d miss you. He’d miss you so much, he’d hate to live so many years without your company. Your annoying company and your weak little human self.

Silence, awkward and long silence, dominated the room. Kid felt stupid and weak, while you felt surprised and started to think, and maybe you’d regret your choice. And if you did, you’d have to live forever with regret.

— Will it hurt? — you whispered, making him turn to look at you right away, with his eyes full of surprise.

He gulped. Kid tried to remember how he felt when he turned into a vampire, but it was so long ago.

— I don’t know. — his answer was honest, just like he always was.

— Will you stay here with me? — you asked, making him nod. —Alright... Make it quick. Kid moved closer, sitting on the bed and pulling you into his lap. The movement your painful, after all, your body was still sensitive and in pain. Your lover was trying to get you as comfortable as possible. You closed your eyes shut and gulped, preparing yourself for the pain of the bite. Your mind was racing, wondering if it’d hurt or how it’d feel. Doubt crossed your mind at some point, but you had no choice now. For some reason, you didn’t want to die now.

Maybe Kid was right, turning into a vampire was better than death. Maybe being with him for the rest of your life was better than death.

Kid’s rough hands tried to be as gentle as possible while caressing your neck, finding the perfect spot. He moved even closer, feeling the delicious smell of your flesh, making you shiver. His tongue found your neck, licking the right spot before placing a kiss. The redhead was too tempted. Your smell and the taste of your soft skin were making him lose control. But he obviously couldn’t drink too much of your blood.

After all, you weren’t his prey, you were his lover.

Trying to be as careful as he could, the vampire sunk his teeth into your soft skin. Surprisingly, the vampire bite didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. However, the transformation wasn’t as magical as you assumed it’d be.

It felt like you could hear everything, even a low noise from far away, and it felt like something weird was running through your veins and the foreign sensation was making your stomach do backflips. Your eyes got more sensitive to the lights, and you could feel the slight fangs growing. You closed your eyes shut, trying to make the feeling go away.

While you were trying to get used to the sensation, Kid held you. His strong arms reassured you, letting you know you weren’t going through this alone. It felt like forever, when you opened your eyes, that turned into a bright shade of red now, just like his.

— So, what do we do now? — your still weak voice asked, looking at your lover with big curious eyes. — Do we turn into bats and just fly around scaring people? — you giggled, yawning, as if your body got too tired, trying to still recover.

Kid clicked his tongue and sighed. Looking at the window, the first rays of light were about to invade the room through the curtains.

— You’re very funny to someone who was almost dying. — he paused, getting up and taking you in his arms.

The vampire made his way to the coffin bed made of dark brown mahogany wood and burgundy insides. It was still small, after all, even after all these years, Eustass never expected to have someone sleeping by his side. Maybe he’d need a bigger bed eventually.

He gently placed you inside, entering and making himself comfortable soon after.

— First, you need to rest, brat. — he whispered, placing an unusual soft kiss on your forehead. A quite out of character attitude of his, but he couldn’t help it. All he could feel right now was relief to know you were okay.

You smiled, closing your eyes.

— For the whole eternity sounds like a long time now, right, Eustass? — it was the last thing you remember before feeling your body almost drifting into a calm sleep.

#eustass kid #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #eustass kid x reader #kid pirates

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vampirewrestlinglover · 4 days

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I don't know if you take requests or not, but here goes nothing: What if there's a spike x reader where the reader is a slayer yet she's ofc like the opposite of Buffy(goth, rebel, lives in a trailer with her mother), and when Spike figures out there's another slayer in Sunnydale, he's in disbelief, and then he sees hee in like full goth getup and everything and assumes she's a vampire💀. But then she tells him that she's a slayer and he's taken aback and stuff(I'm thinking that it'll be funny).

I'm not the best writer, but i'll do my best-

"So, i'm assuming you're not a vampire?" Spike had welcomed himself into your trailer and was met with a wall of stakes and crucifixes that only made him slightly nervous.

"What? No." You slowly approach him, a stake behind your back and a look of both confusion and annoyance on your face; You really want him out of here. Your mother would be home from work soon after all. "Alright," Spike held his hands up in mock surrender, though it was clear this was kinda funny to him, "i'll get out of your hair in a bit. I just saw your badass get-up and thought you were a vampire. Not another bloody slayer." You lower your stake and look him up and down, then you look at yourself; You couldn't deny that he was kinda cute, even if he was possibly a horrible human-or undead-being. And you also couldn't deny that you did look kinda like a vampire.

"Uh, thanks I guess?" You were looking everywhere but at your target by now. You had no clue what you were supposed to do with him. At first you wanted him gone, but now you kinda wanted him to stay with you. "Are you gonna leave now?" You pushed your... feelings aside for now and tried to stay focused on getting this man, this blood-sucking, hot awful man, out of your home.

"Oh, so you don't want me here?" Spike's voice was slow as he walked even farther into your trailer despite you grabbing his arms in an attempt to stop him. He knew what he was doing. He knew you kinda liked him. "Fine, I guess i'll leave and never come back. I'll just be lonely for the rest of my poor, undead life." He dramatically threw himself onto the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table with no regard for your things.

"Get your nasty shoes off my fucking table. NOW!" You drive your stake as hard as you could into the wood, making a small dent you knew your mother wouldn't be pleased with. Spike just stared up at you, shock and amusement mingling in his eyes. "Well well, looks like someone's got a bad bloody temper, huh?" Spike stood up and placed his hand on your cheek, a smug grin on his stupid face. "That's alright luv. I like a good temper."

You turn to look out the window and see your mother pulling up, completely unaware of what was unfolding in her house, and you knew you had to act quickly. "Can you turn into a bat or something?" You ask, the small amount of patience you had dwindling quickly. "No." Spike answers quickly, too quickly, but you don't have time to question him and instead grab his hand and drag him down the short hallway.

"Well, if you can't fly out of here or whatever, you're gonna have to stay in my room until you can sneak out once my mom's asleep." You continue power walking until you reach your bedroom door and open it, being greeted by the sea of posters and CDs on your wall.

"Maybe i'll shove you into the back of my closet and forget about you until I eventually move out of this shithole and I have to dig deep into my closet to get my things and i'll find you back there. That sounds exciting, huh?" You weren't looking at Spike so you didn't notice the large, shit-eating grin he had on his face.

He'd gotten into your room like he wanted to, but now what?

Hopefully this is what you had in mind and it didn't suck too bad!

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #spike btvs #spike x reader #vampire stuff

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imnotavamp1r3 · 4 months

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♡ Underrated songs! ♡

🎀 Factory Girl ♡ The Pretty Reckless

I'm waiting for my man on Hollywood and Vine, so fine Gettin' done in the LA sun, I'm on New York time Take a look at those red lights, green lights, blowin' my mind I'll show you somethin' if you show me a good time

🎀 I'll Do Anything ♡ Courtney Love

Give me one match so I can set myself on fire Let them eat coke until they all starve Give me one light that pulls down on me so hard Twist it like a miracle Blast your heart to shards

🎀 Looking Glass ♡ The Birthday Massacre

A boyish notion of false emotion These words are spoken despite my love A fool's devotion was set in motion My eyes are open now

🎀 Serial Killer Girl ♡ Snow White's Poison Bite

Hey, pretty boy let's have a slaughter tonight She's got a crucifix and she's gonna take your life This massacres for killers, I wanna be a sinner You're the one who's dead so take your last breath

🎀 You First ♡ Paramore & Remi Wolf

I like it when you're pissed off Fucked up in the head It makes me feel a little less crazy, oh

🎀 Checkmarks ♡ The Academy Is...

So suck your so called pity down Hey, that's not so bad, is it? So take your cold, cold heart and drown And don't forget to take deep breaths

🎀 Down in the Morgue ♡ Snow White's Poison Bite

Plastic surgery in the doctor's chair Scalpels cutting everywhere

🎀 First ♡ Lindsay Lohan

Don't wanna be like every other girl in the world Like every other one who wants you 'Cause when I see you something inside me burns And then I realise I wanna come first I wanna come first

🎀 Reverse This Curse ♡ Escape The Fate

A deadly wish, but it should've come sooner A corpse and a funeral that I would never attend There is a light on in the back of this house But you're not around, to die is to live in her head

🎀 Sure As Hell ♡ Tonight Alive

I never felt more free, I've never been more true Never thought I'd see today with you I didn't picture this, I wasn't hoping high Now I'm reaching for all the things I left behind Because I'm finally content and I sure as hell meant all of it

That's it, byeeeee!! ˚｡⋆୨୧˚♡

#emo #scene #pink scene #the pretty reckless #courtney love #the birthday massacre #snow white's poison bite #paramore #the academy is...#lindsay lohan #escape the fate #tonight alive

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phantomgaming1920 · 1 year

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Funny thought. I like to imagine that at one point malleus broke into ramshackle while Yuu was sleeping. This is before they really formed a better relationships so think very early into gameplay. Since no one has bothered to tell Yuu about Malleus they assume this shadowy figure is probably a vampire. I mean wizard magic familiars exist so why not vampires. So one night they pull and Andrew Garfield and when they see malleus. Pull out a a clove of garlic, a compact mirror they happened to find (steal) from Vil, holy water that Sam claims is legit and a crucifix that they made from pencils and some tape. Eventually giving a double bird and booking it back to the safety of their dorm. After a while they build up a friendship with Malleus and in return he never lets Yuu forget this encounter.

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twisted wonderland malleus #twst malleus #malleus draconia #yuu #random

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lukweer · 11 months

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As a bi girlie, I somehow always gravitate towards my fellow gays and lets just say Max and Lando made my gaydar go off. So no surprise there.

On Yuki, I totally agree with your statement that man is at least bi. Lmao, he was like a scorned housewife when Pierre left the team. That level of drama, it is giving bi.

(I’m also really conflicted with Pierre, either, he is straight and just french, or he very repressed)

As for Daniel, he is either one of the few straight man with a working gaydar or he has something fruity going on.

Carlos honestly is really difficult for me to pinpoint as well, sometimes he seems so straight to me. But around Lando, everything is thrown out of the window I guess.

And finally Oscar, that man screams twink to me I’m so sorry.

I have a couple of other drivers on my mind as well. But I’ll hold my opinions for your part 2 to see if I’m right👀

Anyways, hope you a great day!🥰

-P

ok i love these so i'm adding even more input ;)

i think lando has officially matched (or is at least very close to) max on being accepted by the gays as queer. check and check.

i think netflix should make a miniseries or like a short film on yuki and pierres break up. i dont even care if they were never dating, that was such a movie break up and i need to know the details.

pierre gives me the feeling that he's maybe hooked up with a guy and then immediately went to mass. him and his crucifix necklace, smh.

i'm sticking with my guns here, i think daniel tells ppl he's straight but doesnt really care, if he caught feelings for a guy he wouldnt be upset. idk if that makes sense? but yeah, he gives me the feeling. that vibe.

i use to think that about carlos too, but the more content (?) i consume outside of just the races the more i feel he's queer. my gaydar goes off just a bit you know? maybe he is bi with a strong preference for women. yeah.

please do not be sorry, i am very happy that he screams twink to other people. i want him to scream twink. i love him.

if i do make a part two it will likely be much shorter but i'll definitely try to work on it :)

also i know i said i'd post about lando's mannerisms but i keep forgetting to work on that so maybe that will be out soon too, who knows.

#f1 #lgbtq #carlos sainz #lando norris #max verstappen #pierre gasly #yuki tsunoda #daniel ricciardo #oscar piastri #formula 1

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tolivealone · 9 months

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❦ Par-delà les paroles, un regard, un sourire suffisent pour que chacun s'ouvre au mystère de l'autre, au mystère tout autre...

_François Cheng

So long Marianne

Well you know that I love to live with you, but you make me forget so very much. I forget to pray for the angels and then the angels forget to pray for us.

Now so long, Marianne, it’s time that we began...

We met when we were almost young deep in the green lilac park. You held on to me like I was a crucifix, as we went kneeling through the dark.

Oh so long, Marianne, it’s time that we began...

Your letters they all say that you’re beside me now. Then why do I feel alone? I’m standing on a ledge and your fine spider web is fastening my ankle to a stone.

Now so long, Marianne, it’s time that we began...

For now I need your hidden love. I’m cold as a new razor blade. You left when I told you I was curious, I never said that I was brave.

Oh so long, Marianne, it’s time that we began...

Oh, you are really such a pretty one. I see you’ve gone and changed your name again. And just when I climbed this whole mountainside, to wash my eyelids in the rain!

Oh so long, Marianne, it’s time that we began...

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm, your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm, yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new, in city and in forest they smiled like me and you, but now it’s come to distances and both of us must try, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye. I’m not looking for another as I wander in my time, walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me, it’s just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea, but let’s not talk of love or chains and things we can’t untie, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye.

youtube

#Youtube

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foster-the-moths · 1 year

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some doodles for churchghost au (still figuring out designs), plus a basic outline of the au under the readmore! (warning for descriptions of child death and suicide)

-mark was killed by intruder. he made 'scary night' like in canon, but nobody believed him, and after about 3 days of living with MAD intruder comes back and either finishes the job OR mark sees his true form and his head just explodes idk still figuring that out. maybe he took his parent's gun? his death causes a bout of hysteria in mandela and is on newspapers for like a week.

-even though he's a ghost, mark ages. his appearance changes to match how he would have appeared if he had stayed alive (this is how he has different outfits, his hair stays short, etc) due to this he is also pretty much stuck in mandela county, since if he had lived he would have stayed in mandela anyways.

-in the dream i had cesar's mom was a mortician, and this is why he's at the morgue where mark's body is. i might change this to cesar just happened to be at church while mark's funeral was going on. ms.torres as a mortician sounds cool tho so i might keep it.

-mark is tethered to a rosary/crucifix (not sure which one yet). he had it in his pocket when he died, and it falls out either when his corpse is at the morgue or in the church. cesar finds it and picks it up, and that is how he can see mark.

-when cesar first sees mark, he freaks out and actually drops the crucifix, but later he comes back and picks it up again, after he's calmed down. mark is surprised that cesar actually came back for him and thats how he and mark become friends.

-cesar usually wears a suit/something resembling a suit because mark is extremely bad at recognizing faces in ghost form, and associates cesar with suits because that is what he was wearing when they first met.

-mark goes to school with cesar bc he's tethered to him. they both hate it bc they can't talk to each other, but mark helps cesar with his homework bc he can just float over to the teacher's desk and give him answers.

-cesar will sometimes pretend he's on the phone with someone in order to talk to mark without looking crazy. it works surprisingly well. he'll also write things on paper for mark to read.

-due to how young mark was when he died, sarah never got to meet him :( she does meet him eventually though by pulling out a oujia board or something

-speaking of sarah, since mark is. no longer around the heathcliffs need someone to babysit her. and, in a funny little turn of events, they hire cesar! this is how mark finds out he has a baby sister. mark and cesar agree that its best not to get her involved with mark's ghost shenanigans, but mark is still. a bit jealous for a while. he is glad that sarah gets an older brother, though, even if it can't be him.

-mark also just. completely forgets his last name until he sees his parents and recognizes them. or maybe he and cesar go through old newspaper clippings and find mark's name there? unsure.

-sarah sees cesar as a big brother figure, but she knows he's hiding something. little does she know his big secret is ANOTHER older brother. wild. 2 in 1 deal.

-i do think that sarah still founds the bps, and that means adam jonah and evelin will also be in this au.

-not sure if i want to keep the timeline the same or not. on one hand i could have mark and cesar be 34/35 in 2009 (like in canon) and cesar works somewhere in mandela bc mark can't leave the county (maybe he works at mandelatech????) or on the other hand maybe they are slightly younger?? not sure yet.

#tmc churchghost au #tw: child death #tw: gore #tw: suicide #tw: body horror #ask to tag #foster's art tag #this entire au is just 'yes the horrors are incomprehensible but you have to be silly!!!!'#bad things happen but it all turns out okay in the end bc they really just need a break.#mark don't look

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sleekervae · 1 year

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You Look So Cool | Remington Leith x OC | The Robbery AU

Masterlist

A/N: wow, so this got really long and it took on a whole other life of its own. However, I haven't written action sequences in a long time and I'm proud of myself! I hope you all like it, don't forget to like, comment, reblog, whatever you feel like! And I'm super excited for the Debilitate video!

Warnings: guns, violence, swearing, some naughtiness but no smut

No one ever batted a second eye at the Hideaway Diner, a local truck-stop dive outside of Vegas that hosted a variety of curious and outlandish characters. The owner didn't really give a damn so long as his patrons paid their bills and no rough housing went about. The paint was peeling off of the walls, the wooden tables were chipped and worn down, and the end-to-end carpet could've used a good deep cleaning, nevertheless the mighty portions and enticing smell of crackling bacon was enough to leave every customer satisfied.

On a particularly sunny late morning, the diner was bustling with truck drivers and hitchhikers. Overworked and underpaid staff went about brewing pots of watery coffee and the kitchen staff were sweltering in the humid kitchen. There was indistinct chattering, retelling of stories and old men getting into debates over their bets for the next big football game. Nobody was paying attention to the young couple in a back booth, two half-eaten plates of hash and eggs sat cold between them.

Remington looked like every straggly, lanky weirdo you'd see on the side of town your mother would warn you not to visit. The people who didn't understand him would make assumptions, he's heard them all: drug addict, drug dealer, parolee, a deviant. Nevertheless, no one could deny how handsome he was, alluring in a dangerous classification that could spell trouble in the best way. The younger waitresses would always light up when he strolled in, instantly smitten with his sharp gaze and his charming smile.

He didn't have a lot to hold on to, just his car, the crucifix chain he kept around his neck, his two brothers, and of course he had his girl. Sitting opposite to him, Vera was a statuesque beauty with pixie-like features, and at first glance not many people would understand what such an innocent-looking girl was doing sitting across from Remington. But those same people making assumptions about Remington made poor ones for Vera, too. They couldn't possibly imagine what greatness the inconspicuous couple had to sit on.

Vera picked at her scrambled eggs absent-mindedly, taking bites between reading through the drawn plans Emerson had given them the night before. Remington had skimmed through them already, but he knew how prepared Vera liked to be for everything. He watched her curiously; the loose hair from her ponytail swinging across her face, how her eyes darted between Emerson's notes to the ones she made on the napkin, and her lips moved slow, chewing her food thoughtfully. They were all such simple things, but Remington couldn't deny watching Vera be in her own presence was a true privilege.

She looked up when she felt his eyes on her, dropping her pen and sitting back in the booth, "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he shrugged back, his fingers inching across the table towards her free hand, "I just like watching you,"

"I'm not doing anything, though," she smiled at him skeptically.

"So what? You're pretty cool, anyway," he replied.

"I know," she teased back, "Maybe not as cool as you... but still,"

"We're gonna have to disagree on that," he simpered.

Vera didn't hesitate as he took her hand into his, giving her an affectionate squeeze. Even the simplest things he did, how he complimented and took care of her, Vera appreciated him so much. She had never met anybody like him. Underneath all his faults, Remington was truly nothing more than a dorky goofball.

"Well then, would you like to read your brother's blueprint so you can get on my level of cool?" she asked.

"I already read them," he replied simply.

"You barely glanced at them yesterday," she noted back.

"But I cased the place last week. I memorized every exit and noted all the shift changes in security," he reminded her.

"Sweetheart, all due respect, but you have the memory of a goldfish," she smirked.

"I do not!" he exclaimed, mocking offence, "I have a great memory!"

"Oh, really? What movie did we watch last week?" she asked.

Remington shrugged listlessly, he truly couldn't ever recall, "It was at the drive-in, right?"

"No, we were at home," Vera replied, "What about what I cooked for dinner Tuesday night?"

Again, Remington regretfully drew a blank, "You know, it was just so good I was more consumed with eating it than actually taking in what it was," he decided, trying to work his charm. Vera however had been around long enough to know when he was bullshitting her.

"Hmm. My point," she nodded victoriously.

"Hey, hey, hold on now," he interjected, "Those are just minor things. I remember all the big things,"

"Like what?" she asked.

Remington smiled coyly, "Like the red dress you wore for our first date; it had the white buttons going up the front and you had a black shirt on underneath," he recalled, "How about our first vacation together? We booked a ratty little BnB and the generator went out so we had no heat?"

Vera blushed, "And we had to find creative ways to keep warm. I remember," she chuckled.

"Not to mention our first heist together," he went on, "I was all nervous because it was your first one but you handled everything so fucking smoothly," there truly was no denying how proud he was that day, watching Vera take command of ten people so seamlessly and keeping them all in order while the guys took what they could from the bank safe.

Vera giggled some more, "Does it make a difference if I mention I was absolutely shitting myself and was just trying to impress you?"

"It worked!" he agreed, "And every time, you've done better and better,"

"Well, I did have a great teacher," she winked, "He's a pretty cool, guy,"

Remington slid out from his side of the booth and slide in next to her instead, looping his arm around her shoulders and Vera let her head rest on his chest, "Not as cool as you, V,"

Her eyes slipped shut as he kissed her head, a simple gesture but it made her heart flutter every time. No one had ever treated her as well as Remington did, and Vera didn't care if people didn't get it. He was her person, now and -- God willing -- forever.

However, their moment of bliss was interrupted as the waitress strolled over, a pot of sloshing coffee in her hand. Vera moved quickly to hide the evidence of what they were doing under her arm. The waitress, an older woman with greying raven hair, smiled at the couple.

"Well, aren't you two just adorable!" she drawled in a Carolina accent, "Can I offer you some more coffee?"

"That would be great," Remington smiled, pushing his coffee cup towards her, "Breakfast was excellent, as always,"

The waitress giggled merrily, "Oh, you're just the sweetest thing, hon," she then caught on to the blueprints under Vera's arm, "What're you two up to with them papers?"

Vera opened her mouth, her mind racing for a believable answer, but Remington beat her to it, "Oh these? They're plans for our new house," Vera looked at him skeptically. The waitress gasped in delight.

"Plans for a new house? You two are building a house?" she asked.

"Yeah," Vera nodded, quickly catching on, "We're just figuring out whether we have the space to put in a walk-in closet or a man cave?"

"You know which one gets my vote," Remington added.

"Well, good for you! That is excellent! I don't see a lot of young people these days taking the initiative like you two are. That is wonderful," she spoke as she topped up their coffee.

"Thank you," Vera grinned sweetly, covertly brushing her foot up Remington's leg. He did his best to bite back his smirk.

"Can I get you two anything else?" the waitress asked.

"Just the check would be great," Remington nodded.

"You got it," and she walked off back to the front.

Vera slumped in her chair, shaking her head as she began to put the plans away, "Okay. That was too close," she mumbled.

"C'mon, she didn't suspect a thing," Remington assured her.

"To be fair, we could rob this place right now and she wouldn't bat an eye," Remington chuckled as she went on, "But now the next time we come in, she's gonna be asking us about our house that we do not have," she replied.

Remington pulled her in closer, bringing his lips just over her ear, "Hey, depending on how this goes tonight, we can totally have that house,"

At that, Vera was intrigued, "To buy or to build?"

"How about both?" he suggested, "We could get a plot of land out in the country, build our dream house. My brothers wouldn't be around, either, just you and me,"

As much as Vera loved Emerson and Sebastian, having their own separate life to build sounded wonderful, "Sounds like heaven," she drawled, "Let's just not fuck up tonight,"

"We won't," he assured her, "We never do,"

She eyed him skeptically, "People who say 'never' always tend to get it in the end, Remi," she pointed out.

"Okay," he nodded, "How are you going into this, then?"

"With skewed optimism and a prayer to Jesus,"

Ambition was Sebastian's middle name -- or so he liked to think. However, when he saw the news of a diamond bid a year ago, he didn't bat an eye before he told his brothers of their new target. Emerson was skeptical at first; a great big convention centre in the heart of Las Vegas brimming with people of all walks of the economy, housing millions of dollars worth of diamonds. The money alone couldn't compare to the jewels and priceless accoutrements the crew could get away with. But the security was unparalleled to any bank they'd hit before. Nevertheless, the brothers, as well as Vera and their right-hand man, Andrew, had spent the past year preparing and planning for what would be the peak of their heist career.

The ultimate prize tonight was the Warhol Diamond necklace, worth a reported 11.5 million dollars. That should be more than enough for a house.

Of course, since this event was so upscale, it called for upscale tactics. They had to use some of the funds from previous jobs to score some invitations, and of course the invitation required them be dressed to the nines to get in. Of course, this was no problem for the crew, they always liked to dress it up a little on their jobs.

The evening came upon them quickly, and already the strip in front of the convention centre was packed with people. It would be so easy for any of them to slip away unscathed. The top of society was attending, limos and high-roller cars were lined up around the block while dashing men and extravagant woman stepped out, practically dripping in jewels. Remington licked his lips like a hungry predator.

"Did you have to wear the hat?" Sebastian grumbled at Emerson, who was dressed in a tailored red jacket and dark slacks. He had an antique top hat on his head, the brim lined in gold thread.

"I like the hat," Emerson grumbled, not very impressed with Sebastian's own velvet maroon suit, "You're the one wearing an ascot with an open-neck,"

"It draws less attention than a top hat," Sebastian pointed out. The brothers were hanging around in the lobby, shuffling through the herd of people who were oohing and awing at the gold-crusted, lavish Venetian decor. Everything oozed expensive, even the security guards at the metal detector appeared in bespoke tailored suits.

"Hey, c'mon. He likes it, just leave him alone," Remington grumbled back, dressed up in his own dark tartan suit.

Emerson was gawking around the halls, "They really beefed up security around this place. Are you sure about the shift change schedule?" he asked Remington.

"Of course I'm sure. We've been casing this place for a month," he assured, "Trust me, everything is under control,"

"It's all under control as long as V does her part," Sebastian whispered.

Remington smirked back at him, "You talk like she never pulls through," he said.

"I'm not saying she doesn't," Sebastian replied, "But it doesn't matter how many of these we do; there's always an outlier,"

"You were the one that wanted to hit this place," Emerson mumbled.

"Vera is gonna' be fine," Remington assured them, "She knows what she's doing. As long as Andrew's not late we'll be just fine,"

The boys got into the security line up, separately of course. They didn't want to draw attention as a group. One by one, they each went through the metal detector and a pat down, neither of them were flagged.

Meanwhile, Vera was already inside the party. She assimilated well into the crowd of philanthropists, politicians, and unabashed millionaires. She stood off from the bar while she waited for her drink, appearing lusciously priceless in a sleek, velvet black gown. It was a more expensive piece she bartered for, it made it so easy for her to slip into the persona of someone she could only dream to be.

She thanked the bartender for her whiskey soda and she wandered around the venue, meeting eyes with inconspicuous guests. Everyone was gathered around an empty stage front, awaiting when the bidding would start for the extravagant variety of jewelry pieces. Where would the money gathered be going? Well, the front man, Alister Warhol, announced that a percentage of the proceeds would be going off to benefit various charities. The only thing he neglected to mention was he was keeping over 90% of the proceeds for himself, as most philanthropists did.

With most of the guests distracted, she stopped to bend down in front of one of the vent grates. Attached to her garter belt were five canisters, each the size of a large fingernail. Vera had distributed the other four already, having slipped them into the vent grates. Making like she was adjusting the strap of her shoe, she was about to slip the last canister inside when she heard a throat grumble from above her.

Vera looked up, coming face-to-face with an older, distinguished gentleman. He was slender, his stark cheekbones protruding harshly through his skin, and his sunken eyes made him appear older than he appeared. He nursed his own champagne flute, and he smelled as though he'd enjoyed a few beforehand.

"Hello," he drawled, looking her up and down.

Vera strapped an alluring smile to her face, "Hello,"

"I'm sorry if I startled you, but I noticed you from the bar," he said, "You are absolutely stunning,"

"Why thank you," Vera smiled back, "Are you a bidder, tonight?"

He chuckled blithely, "Not exactly. I'm an acquirer for Mr. Warhol,"

Vera raised a brow, "Ah, so these pieces have come from your collection?" she asked.

"Some are mine, some are from other generous cohorts, some have been sold off to Warhol to pay off debts," he replied.

"I imagine I wouldn't want to be the person to owe Mr. Warhol money," she said.

"Absolutely not," he then took her hand in his, "The name's Redmond. Redmond Barrymore," and he kissed her knuckle.

Vera swallowed back her distaste, "Sophia Blackwell," her public cover name.

"Sophia Blackwell..." Redmond drawled, his expression furrowing, "... Oh, yes. I recall seeing your name on the guest list,"

Vera hummed, "I thought you were just Mr. Warhol's acquirer, Mr. Barrymore?"

He chuckled heavily, brimming with the bravado of a man with enough secrets to eradicate every person in this room, "Well, I like to have a handle on who may be bidding on my diamonds,"

Across the room, the brothers had finally entered the major ensuite. Remington immediately accepted a martini from one of the passing serving staff, scanning the room for their target. And there it was, the Warhol Necklace on full display in bullet proof glass, shelved on a high platform and out of reach for any person of general stature. Of course, it was surrounded by a handful of security guards.

"God, it's beautiful," Remington awed, "All 11.5 million of it,"

"We could make out pretty well with some of the pieces on these guests, too," Emerson added, looking around at the crowd.

"Remember, we have to stay focused," Sebastian reminded them, "Where's Vera?"

"I'll find her," Remington nodded, "You remember where we put the bag?"

"Yeah, I'll get it," Sebastian nodded, "We'll meet at the south-east corner in twenty minutes," and he ducked out of the crowd.

"I'm gonna' get a drink," Emerson decided before he too took off.

Remington sipped his martini meanwhile, his dark brown eyes skimming for faces and the odd Tiffany or Rolex he could knick away with. In the next pass he locked on Vera, her exquisite appearance accentuated against the shimmering gold and marble fixtures, not to mention the peak of her long leg beneath the high slit in her dress was so sexy. Remington had so many ideas of what he could do to her in that dress... if only that old man chatting her up wasn't ruining his picture.

He finished the martini promptly and placed it on a discard tray, making his way through the crowd and towards his girl. Vera meanwhile made her attempts to leave, though Redmond wasn't ready to let her go.

"Why don't you join me at my table?" he offered, "We're having dinner courtesy of Wolfgang Puck,"

Vera smiled politely, "That's very kind of you to offer, Mr. Barrymore, but I'm afraid I already have a table tonight," she replied in kind.

"Oh? With whom?"

"With me," Remington appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and Vera was relieved. Redmond looked him up and down, a little more critically than he had with Vera.

"Ah. And you would be...?"

"Aldous Blackwell, sir," Remington shook his hand, "Of the Toronto Blackwells,"

Redmond nodded slowly, "I see. I haven't seen you around here," he replied skeptically.

"I was kept late at an important business meeting, so I sent my wife ahead," Remington explained.

"And... what business do you run, Mr. Blackwell?" he asked.

Vera linked her arm with Remington, "The type that could afford him over half of Alister Warhol's diamond collection," she said. Remington squeezed her hand, never breaking his gaze with Redmond Barrymore.

"Very well, then," Redmond nodded, "I wish you luck in the bidding. As for you, Mrs. Blackwell," he took Vera's hand again and planted another kiss on her knuckle. Remington felt his blood pressure flare, though he kept his composure without a flinch, "It was a pleasure,"

"The pleasure was mine," she tried not to sneer as he walked away. She squirmed on the spot and rubbed her soaked knuckle on her hip, "God, what took you long?" she whispered to Remington.

"I couldn't help it," Remington ushered her through the crowd and towards the back hallway, "They got into it over accessories,"

"Well, they sure picked a time. If it wasn't for you, that creep would've suckered me into sitting for a dinner by Wolfgang Puck," she scoffed back, not thinking as Remington ushered her away from the crowd and into a dark, quieter hallway, "Not that I'd complain about the latter part,"

"I think with this, we could buy us a set meal from Mr. Puck's restaurant," before her eyes, Remington held up Barrymore's Panerai watch.

Vera wasn't shocked per say, though more or less impressed at his speed, "When did you take that?"

In a sharp instant, Remington had her backed into the corner, the watch shoved deep into his pocket, "While he was slobbering all over your hand,"

Remington stepped impossibly closer and pushed her legs apart with his knee. Vera's gasp was swallowed by his mouth engulfing hers, lips and teeth smacking in a rough, passionate kiss. She squeezed her legs around his, fingers threading through his hair as he moved to nip at her neck, his hand coming up to wrap around her throat. She had to bite her lip as he marked her, the rush of adrenaline and carnal tension shivering through her body, every touch of was electrifying and excitement bubbled beneath her skin.

“Remington,” she breathed, trying her best not to smirk as his dark expression, "Did it really bother you seeing the old man so close to me?"

He chuckled suddenly, though she knew it wasn't from amusement. His hand left her throat, slipping down the silky material of her dress until he reached the slit of her dress. His hand slipped up, caressing the inner part of her thigh, his eyes never leaving hers and his smirk widened.

"You belong to me," he mumbled, the intensity of his stare so dark and sharp, "You're all mine, and anybody who tries me will fucking regret it," he did not hesitate before pressing his lips firmly against hers, a desperate attempt to feel more of her. Vera looped her arms around Remington's neck and threaded her fingers within his soft locks, tugging it, smirking against his lips in satisfaction once he hissed at the action.

He swiped his tongue against her lower lip and pushed his tongue inside her mouth, deepening the kiss. With his other hand, he jerked her hips closer to his and pushed his hips against her, she moaned at the sensation of him rubbing against her. He emitted a low groan, his eyes clouded with pure desire as he pulled away from her lips in order to trail kisses down her throat. Oh, if only they had the time, the privacy, she would wrap her legs around his waist and let him take her against the wall right now, the crowd be damned.

"Are you for real?" their moment was slighted by Emerson, standing at the mouth of the hall, his unimpressed glower lit dimly in the shadows. Remington groaned, pulling away from his girl to face his brother, "You guys are like God damn rabbits; can you wait at least until we leave the premises?"

Vera couldn't help but laugh, the brothers equal annoyance with each other a nice breather for her.

"Alright, c'mon then. Let's go find Seb," she patted the lapel of Remington's jacket and walked off, all the while he stared a hole into his cock-blocking little brother.

"Five minutes," he grumbled at him, "You couldn't have let me have five fucking minutes?"

Emerson shrugged, not bothering to hide the shit-eating grin on his face, "You forget your room is right next to mine. You take way more than just five minutes," he smirked.

"Oh, fuck off," and he brushed right past Emerson.

Sure enough, twenty minutes had past. Bids were called, alcohol was consumed, and the diamonds glittered so deliciously under the chandelier display. No one was the wiser to the crew crouched down behind the stage, the dapper looking group having switched out their classy shoes and heels for treaded sneakers, and each of them slipped a gas mask over their head. Sebastian kept checking his watch, it was almost time for the canisters to go off.

"Are we all ready?" he asked.

Remington nodded as he checked his phone, "Andrew's ready and waiting downstairs," he reported.

"And the canisters should be going off in five minutes," Emerson added.

At the mention, Vera's face changed. A sharp fear ripped through her as she realized she never finished her assignment, "Fuck!"

"What?" the boys turned to her, praying her exclamation wasn't anything bad.

"I forgot one," she whispered, reaching under her skirt.

"Forgot one what?" Sebastian asked nervously. They were stunned in silence as Vera pulled out the last canister from her garter.

"Fuck," Emerson covered his mouth.

Sebastian glowered at her, "How could you forget?!" he snapped.

"I didn't mean to! I'm so sorry!" she gaped.

"It's not her fault," Remington cut in, "She was almost caught by Warhol's collector,"

"And yet you wanted five minutes," Emerson snickered at him, slipping his mask over his now hat-free head.

"Shut up!" Remington snapped at him.

"Five minutes? Five minutes for what?" Sebastian asked.

"Nothing!" Vera replied swiftly, "You guys go ahead, I'll slip the last one in the vent real quick," she pulled her mask off and hid it behind her back.

"You're gonna' go out there without your mask?" Sebastian queried.

Vera started for the curtain, "I'll make it. Security just hit shift change," and she disappeared around the velvet material.

"Is she serious? Fuck," Sebastian kicked at the wall.

"She's right, though. She'll be fine," Remington assured, slipping his gas mask over his head, "Let's move,"

Sure enough, the security was switching to the late shift, leaving just a few crucial minutes for the boys to take the stage. Sebastian was swift to subdue the first guard and Remington hopped onto the platform. The auctioneer was more than confused as he turned mid-bid of another diamond piece, coming nose-to-nose with a stranger in a gas mask. Remington knocked him upside the head with his own microphone, taking the stage to address the astounded crowd. Gasps and screams of horror bounced off the marble-slated walls.

"Ladies and gentleman!" he announced, his voice muffled by the mask, "Please, we ask you to remain calm! You are not in danger! However, in case it wasn't clear: this is a robbery!"

Vera meanwhile was slipping through the crowd, the gas canister clutched tightly in her fist as she ran for the last vent. She heard it begin to sizzle and it burned against her skin. In the chaos of the mess however, she was suddenly slammed by another body. The impact threw her to the side and the canister went flying. It was long gone by the time Vera realized what had happened, and she was sure to catch shit for it later. Nevertheless, the canisters were beginning to release the gas from within them and she needed to get her mask on fast.

Some people tried to run for the door, though they found they had been locked in. It was all thanks to Andrew and his quick skills with heavy chains wrapped around the handles from the outside. The sleeping gas began to fill the room, no one would be getting out.

"We're not here to hurt you! In just a few minutes, you're all gonna' feel the most relaxed you've ever been," Remington called out. And sure enough, the gas had begun to take effect. The echoing of coughing, sputtering, and gasping bounced across the walls and bodies began to slump. It wasn't just the guests within the hall, the gas traversed through the vents, reaching the security wing above them, as well as the kitchen below. No one within the immediate vicinity would be able to call for help. Sebastian was holding some taken aback guards at gun point while Emerson was tying them up with duct tape.

"Hey you!" Remington glanced down towards a brave security guard, aiming at the younger boy with his gun, "You get the hell down from there, right now!" he shouted angrily.

Remington, ever so the one to tempt fate, stepped out from behind the podium, his arms raised in an open target. He was goading the guard to shoot him, revelling in the chaos, the panic, and the thudding of bodies beginning to hit the floor.

"You talking to me?" he chided. The guard coughed, trying to cover his mouth and nose with his jacket lapel, and he fought diligently through the gas.

"Yes! Now, I won't tell you again!" he exclaimed. He was none the wiser to the striking young woman coming up from behind him, the bottle of champagne in her hand she used to crack him upside the head. He went down hard and fast, his gun flying off to the side.

Vera stared up, annoyed with her showman boyfriend, "Really?" she groaned at him.

"Hey! You love my theatrics!" he replied, pulling her up on the stage.

"Not when you're goading a loaded gunman into shooting you," Vera rolled her eyes, watching as the last few groups of people began to succumb to the sleeping gas. It was truly a marvel to behold, the room that was bustling with excitement not ten minutes ago was wilted and weak, struggling for air like plants in a drowsy, dark room.

"I saw you coming, anyway," Remington assured her, "Did you get rid of the canister?"

Vera inhaled sharply, "Kind of,"

"What does that mean?" he popped a brow.

"... I might have lost it," she admitted sheepishly, fear flashing through the eyeholes of her mask.

"What do you mean you lost it?"

"I got knocked into one guy who knocked me into another guy and it's out there somewhere!" she pointed to the sea of bodies.

Remington peered out in shock and dismay, scanning as though he could magically spot the canister in the mess. He had a sinking feeling in his gut.

"And which vent were you supposed to put it in?" he asked tentatively.

Vera shook her head, self-resentment and disappointment settling in her chest, "... The one that leads to the security office,"

"Shit," Remington turned to the plethora of diamonds, calculating as their estimated time was now cut by half. Surely, security would be down within minutes, and it wouldn't take them long to cut the chains off the doors.

"Sebastian's gonna' kill me this time," Vera shook her head, "I fucked up, I fucked up real bad --"

"Hey! It's okay," Remington took her by her shoulders, "Listen, you tried. Shit happens,"

"But Remington --"

"But nothing, Vera! We'll be fine! I'll handle Sebastian, you start on the codes for the cases. Let's just get what we can,"

Remington directed Vera to start getting the diamond cases open. Emerson went to help her while Sebastian kept watch over the guards. Remington wandered over to him sheepishly, knowing fully well he was going to be pissed.

"Don't be angry," he muttered to him.

Sebastian eyed his younger brother cautiously, "... Why should I be angry?" he asked.

"Our time was just slashed in half," he admitted. Sebastian gawked at him, his furious expression maximized by his mask.

"Okay, I'm angry. What happened?" he asked.

"It's not important right now,"

"Remington --"

"Don't argue with me right now, please? It was one slip up," he pleaded. Hell, Sebastian of all people had to know nothing was perfect, not even circumstance. Remington just prayed that they could get away with enough bounty to calm him down later.

Sebastian was at a loss for words, staring back and forth between him and the diamond cases. He decided quickly; if they only had half the time then they had to go for the most valuable pieces. He immediately looked up to the Warhol necklace, still perched on its high platform.

"Alright. You scale the platform and get the Warhol. We'll take it and whatever else these guys can get, and we go," Sebastian decided.

"Deal," like a bat out of hell, Remington began to climb the stage set up, clinging to the bars like a howler monkey in the jungle. He had had enough practice that every move was a calculated piece of cake. The Warhol diamond was just within reach.

He jumped for the platform, clinging tightly to the shelf as he shoved at the glass case, moving it until it just teetered off the edge.

"Hey sweetheart!" he called down, garnering his girl's attention, "Here's our house! Heads up!" and the case plummeted down into Sebastian's arms. Emerson and Vera meanwhile had broken out a few key valuable pieces, definitely enough to warrant Remington and Vera their own property and then some.

However, the true crown jewel of the collection was the Warhol Diamond Necklace; a custom waterfall design with stardust African diamonds, ordered by Alister Warhol himself. The rumour around town was he'd had it especially made for the woman he wanted to marry, the only woman in the world who had supposedly rejected him and his high-class attempts.

"Emerson! C'mere!" the youngest brother discarded the last case he had in favour for the big one. He was an expert at cracking codes, give him any safe in the world and he could have it open within minutes. Time of course was not a luxury they could spare.

"What house is he talking about?" he asked.

"I don't know," Sebastian shook his head, "They're at the stage where they wanna' start playing house,"

"Ew. Gross," Emerson chuckled, working as quickly as he could to unlock the case.

"I heard that!" Remington called, still hanging from the rafter. Vera laughed to herself, working quickly to pack what few pieces they had into the duffel.

"Don't be upset, honey. They're just jealous," Vera teased.

"Oh, you wish," Sebastian simpered.

It was painstaking process, and every second they spared was another second authorities had to gain on them. However, Emerson heard the last click of the combination lock and the lid snapped open. With glazed eyes, he pulled out the million dollar masterpiece, truly feeling as though he had grasped the Golden Idol.

"God, she's beautiful!" he mired.

"All 11.5 million of her," Sebastian agreed, swinging around to Vera, "That's buy each of us a house and then some,"

"Hell yeah it will!" Remington leapt down onto the stage with a hard thud, though he walked away unscathed, "I can see it now: large open yard, rock wall faces, Italian fixtures --"

"How about a pool?" Vera suggested.

"Dream house needs a dream pool," Emerson agreed, slipping the necklace into their bag.

Remington chuckled, "And a big pool we can light up at night so we can --" however, he was cut short when a sharp bang rang out through the air, and a crippling pain in his torso followed. Remington fell to the ground to the horror of his crew, Vera and Emerson dropped what they were doing and rushed to him.

"Remington! Oh my God!" they quickly turned him onto his back. Remington was still alive, he was sure of that as he saw the gruesome fear rippling through his brother and his girlfriend, and his body felt as though it was burning from the inside out. He had been shot.

Sebastian meanwhile turned out to the crowd, finding himself in a gun draw with Redmond Barrymore. The older gentleman's gun was still smoking from his fire. He wheezed heavily, keeping himself upright on the table with shaky limbs. It wouldn't have taken much to take him out if not for the nine millimetre he had aimed for Sebastian's head. He grunted through the gas, his willpower seemingly stronger than the gas.

"You put my diamonds back! Or you're next!" he sneered.

"How in the fuck..." Sebastian drawled.

Redmond chuckled darkly, "What's the matter, son? You didn't expect to see an old man come back from the dead? You don't work for Mr. Warhol without having some special tricks of your own," he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like an epipen at first glance. Whatever was in that needle was a counteract to the sleeping gas, an insurance policy should an occasion as this arrive.

"We don't want to hurt you," Sebastian assured him, "We're just gonna take our loot and go. You'll never hear from us again,"

The older gentleman was in hysterics, "Really? You're quite brave for a man with no options, sir! You're down a man with no escape route because the security will be busting through those doors any minute!" he roared, "I commend your efforts though, the gas masks are a nice touch!"

Remington was gasping for a deep breath under his mask but he knew he couldn't remove it. The air was still too thick. Emerson had to hold him down while Vera ripped off part of the curtain, trying to clot the pack the wound so he bleed out. In his haze of pain and uncertainty, Remington focused on the giant chandelier. Thousands of crystals glinted and twinkled, giving him a brilliant yet crazy idea.

"The chandelier --" he sputtered, "The chandelier!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's pretty," Emerson grumbled.

"No! The chandelier!" Remington snapped at him.

"What about it?!"

"Use it!"

"What?"

Vera faced up to the ceiling, almost being blinded by the chandelier and its many glinting, sharp crystals. There was a cable holding the entire structure up; and it hung smack over Redmond Barrymore. If only she had something to cut the cable, they could make a clean get away. It was then she remembered the guards carried their own guns.

She raced over to the group of large men, each of them still out cold as she felt around for a gun. She found the perfect line of trajectory behind the stage, aiming at the guesstimated angle she prayed would make quick work for their escape.

Sebastian froze as another gun shot rang out, but it wasn't from his nor was it from Redmond's. He heard a distinct tinkling, jewels clanging together above his head. The cable holding the chandelier up was sizzling, and he caught wind of what was about to happen. He took a cautious step back.

"You know, I believe things are looking up for us," he noted. Redmond glanced up to the vibrating chandelier, just as another shot rang out. He leapt out of the way just as the chandelier plummeted to the ground, sending thousands of crystals smashing and flying everywhere, electrical sparks raining down from the cable.

The brothers didn't have time to take cover, they made quick work to get Remington to his feet. Vera took the gun with her and grabbed the duffel bag while Emerson had the bag with their stuff.

Redmond hadn't gotten away from the crash unscathed, his leg was pinned down by a metal rod, effectively shattering his shin bone. He cried out in pain and in anger, lashing out as the crew headed for their escape route. He roared like a lion who had missed his dinner, rage flaring through his body as he called, "Who the fuck are you people!?"

The crew stopped, turning back to Redmond with a great smugness hidden under their masks. Remington gathered his wits enough to taunt him back with a sassy remark, "Us? We're The fucking Bastards,"

A loud banging thundered from the doors, and they knew their time was up. Vera and Emerson lead the way while Sebastian hobbled along with Remington, all the while the middle brother kept pressing the curtain tightly into his wound. It hurt like hell, but it was nothing compared to what being caught would feel like.

They cut through the kitchen, a mess of passed out staff, bubbling pots and burning pans. The smell was distinguishable of just burnt, burnt flakey char that nobody would eat. The service elevator was in the back and they all piled in, just as a flood of footsteps entered the kitchen. They had a second to relax.

"Well, that was fun," Emerson puffed.

"Yeah," Sebastian turned to Vera, "Nice thinking with the chandelier,"

Vera shrugged, "It was all your brother's plan," she replied simply.

"Do we have everything?" Remington groaned.

"Not like we can go back," Emerson replied.

"I just hope Andrew's ready," Sebastian shook his head.

"What's he driving?" Vera asked.

The boys looked between each other, realization hitting that they never asked what vehicle Andrew was going to be in. Vera stared dumbfounded between them.

"He didn't tell you what he was driving?" she asked in disbelief.

"We were running late, we just trusted him," Emerson replied.

"It's okay," Remington assured, "Andrew always pulls through,"

The elevator dinged to the basement level and the giant doors swung open. Much to their luck, security hadn't reached the basement yet. They quickly shuffled out, looking around for any sign of Andrew. It was then Emerson found the obscure looking ambulance in the sea of high-end cars, and sure enough, Andrew and his wild head of hair were sitting upfront, his own gas mask covering his face.

"I found him!" he pointed to the ambulance.

"Huh, fitting," Remington chuckled.

Andrew looked up from his round of candy crush and spotted them immediately. He started the truck before Sebastian could wave him down and pulled out in front of them. Sebastian ripped the back doors open and they all clamoured inside. Remington slumped to the floor.

"We all good?" Andrew called them.

Sebastian took the seat beside him, nodding and panting heavily, "Yeah. Drive,"

Andrew however had focused on Remington and the pool of blood staining his shirt, "What happened to him?"

"Just drive!" Sebastian snapped.

Andrew didn't need to be told again, he peeled out of the delivery truck exit and onto traffic. Police cars whizzed by them meanwhile, all stopping at the convention centre. Vera watched out the back window with bated breath, finally relaxing when she saw they were safe.

"We're clear," she announced, and they all pulled off their masks.

The fresh air was a welcome reward for their strife, that and the bag full of diamond trinkets and other jewelry pieces the crew pocketed. They drove unscathed out of the city, the flashing lights of the Vegas strip quickly dissipated into blacked out desert. Some lights flared from homes in the distance, the further they drove the less there was around. Remington stayed slumped on the ground, breathing slowly through his pain whilst he gripped tightly to Vera's hand. She cleaned his wound as much as she could, more of the dirty work would have to be done at home. When they hit a particular checkpoint they had to switch vehicles, Andrew already had a camper van waiting and left the ambulance behind.

After thirty minutes of driving through seemingly nowhere, they turned into an obscure bungalow neighbourhood. It was a lower middle class community where nobody asked questions and everybody usually kept to themselves. The camper van pulled into their home, and the engine hadn't even been cut before the back door flew open and Emerson and Vera helped Remington inside. Sebastian and Andrew meanwhile took charge of unloading their loot.

Remington groaned as he fell into the bathtub, turning over to rip his shirt off. Vera began soaking rags in disinfectant, beside her a hastily thrown together medical kit. It wasn't much, but the tools she had were enough to patch her boys up when necessary.

A half-drunk bottle of whiskey sat on the rim, and Remington swigged it plentifully to numb the pain he knew was coming. Vera's hand were already a sticky mess of blood from the centre and she scrubbed hard to get herself clean.

"I thought he'd killed you," she rattled off, "I didn't know he had a gun, I should've known. He's a diamond collector of fuck sakes --"

"Vera. Vera!" he called, "Sweetheart, we got away scot-free,"

She fell to sit on the rim of the tub, staring at the open wound in his skin with marred distain, "But you got hurt, anyway," she huffed.

"We knew what we were signing up for," he assured her, taking her hand, "You did so fucking well tonight,"

"I fucked up, Remington," she sighed, "We could've gotten more than double what we made away with,"

"And it's enough. Vera, I don't care what we take or what happens to me, I just need you to be okay," he replied, searching for a depth of sparkle in her eyes, "Are you okay?"

She inhaled deeply. She couldn't lie that she had been rattled, and it was surely just a fluke of luck that she had shot down that chandelier so skillfully. She hadn't done her job properly and yet Remington was still so concerned for her. She couldn't imagine how she could even begin to repay him for his love. But then that was it: love wasn't supposed to be something transactional, it was a deep connection and profound fondness for one another. Remington wasn't just her partner in crime, he was her partner for life.

"I'm okay," she nodded, staring wistfully at the rags on the sink counter, "You're probably not gonna' like me in a few minutes," she warned.

"Impossible," he smiled, "You're so fucking cool,"

Vera blushed, supporting herself on the rim and wall of the bath and leaning in to brush her lips against hiss, but was interrupted when their foreheads bumped together, making them both giggle and the tension faded away.

She kissed him sweetly, muttering softly under her breath, "I love you,"

"I love you, too," he sat back in the tub, bracing himself for the stinging pain of retrieval and cleaning. He'd done it before, but every time it never got easier.

Vera took her own swig of the whiskey bottle, holding it out for him, "Drink," she ordered. He obliged her happily, his eyes stayed glued to hers.

Vera sighed as he handed her back the bottle, making a silent apology, "Good, now bite your tongue," and she poured the alcohol over his wound.

The boys couldn't help but tense up when they heard Remington shouting from the bathroom, a position neither of them envied him for. He would bitch and complain for about twenty minutes, grovel about his pain for a day, but he would be back to normal in no time. It was all worth it anyhow as Emerson held up the Warhol necklace, every individual diamond sparkled in the low light. No matter how many hitches they hit in their job tonight, The Bastards were successful in what they'd come for.

#palaye royale #remington leith #emerson barrett #sebastian danzig #andrew martin #original story #original female character #the bastards #fever dream #remington palaye royale #palaye royale imagine #remington leith imagine #remington leith smut #original character #band blog #band imagine blog #band imagines

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sleepy-writes-stuff · 11 months

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TRIGUN WRITING PROMPT

So this is a bit of a deviation from the usual prompts I come up with, but come on. It was bound to happen eventually. I've been stuck in Trigun hell since January. I'm honestly surprised I didn't come up with a prompt sooner. Not really expecting this one to gain much attention but wanted to write it down anyway.

⚠️Spoiler Warning!⚠️

I will be going more off of the manga, mainly the ending, and possibly(?) some of the 98 anime! You have been warned! This is gonna be sad and angsty, btw. When isn't it tho?

✦

What if after all is said and done, the humans pack up everything and make their way back to Earth and inadvertently leave Vash behind?

They literally couldn't find him for once. Everyone leaving could happen almost immediately after things settle down after the climax or it could take more time. Either way works, but he still gets left behind on No Man's Land/Gunsmoke like a dog left to die on a deserted island.

Vash is completely drained of energy, figuratively and literally, after the whole ordeal with Knives but he still has quite a bit of life left in him. He wanders the empty deserts ceaselessly for centuries, his mind slowly withering away as he starts to question if any of it was ever even real and he just had a really fucked up dream.

He starts losing memories. Forgetting faces. The sounds of his friends voices. His brother's smile. The words to Rem's lullaby she always sang. His body is slowly deteriorating as well, so much so he can barely maintain the energy and balance to walk. He's starting to wonder what's the point in moving anymore. The point in living.

Right as he's convinced himself he should just lay down and never get back up again, he blindly stumbles into a giant cloth wrapped cross half embedded in the ground.

At first, he doesn't know what to make of it with his vision weak and blurry from exhaustion. After almost a full minute of staring at it he places a shaking hand against the sturdy crucifix and drags himself closer until he's leaning heavily against it. He brushes his thumb gently back and forth against the bindings that conceal the massive gun as tears spill from his eyes with what little moisture his body has left. He starts to smile, weak though it may be.

"Hello, again." He says with a cracked whisper.

His body shakes with the echoes of grief from long ago, crying silently all the while. He sits there for quite some time until he eventually drifts off sleep to the memories of the man he would've loved to have spent the rest of his life with. Hours pass. His tears eventually dry up. His body grows cold.

He doesn't get back up again.

✦

That's all I got. For now. I'll probably make a few more prompts if any more ideas come to me. I'd love to see someone flesh this out a bit more into an actual angst fic tho! Trigun just really puts one in the mood to have their heart ripped out for some reason. At least in my case.

#trigun #trimax #trigun maximum #vash #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #vashwood #humans literally leave his ass to die #not on purpose but still #vash wanders until his old age and lagging energy catch up to him #this is sad #i'm sorry #trigun prompt #trigun fic prompt #trigun fic #angst prompt #writing prompt #prompt

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joz-yyh · 8 months

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Another WIP flashback of Damian and Bigby getting to know each other for my fic, "Blighted Hearts." :> (You can read the previous snippet -> here)

He finds Bigby near the confessional, not inside but hidden next to t’s shadow, separating himself away from the rest of the religious group.

"What did you think of the service," Damian asks, trying to hold back his excitement, but it inevitably seeps through.

"It was nice," the wolfboy replies simply, keeping still, neutral as if hoping to fade into the wall.

"The way you sang with such emotion, I am inclined to believe this is not the first time you have recited the Lights prayer," the priest twitters, swirling around with arms wide, invigorated by the memory. Damian feels as though he could scale a mountain with nothing but his bare hands.

When he notices Bigby has gone quiet rather than share in his praise, Damian reigns in his effervescent display.

"Am I wrong," he asks, stepping closer, voice cracking.

Should Bigby tell him? No, not everything, but perhaps just a piece of his past would suffice.

"No, you're not wrong," the man sighs, head downcast, mind heavy with shame.

A long moment hangs between them, the two unsure of where to take the conversation.

"Forgive me for asking,” Damian starts, voice gentle, “You do not have to answer, but what has changed you so? I sense great reverence from you, but it is divided."

Was it wise to reveal more? He can’t explain it, but this man, something about him makes him feel … serene, enough that he’s already reaching into his pocket, taking out his rosary for his company to see.

"I still carry it.”

There, in his palm, is a crucifix made of crude materials, wood long since faded, tied together with scraps of rope.

"It's lovely," Damian gasps, drawing closer to get a better look.

The abomination scoffs. How could he think of something so crudely broken as lovely?

Bigby still remembers that day, how ugly it was, how much rage he held.

How could the holy flame allow this to happen to him? Betray him? He’d been faithful, attended mass every sunday, said his prayers just as he was supposed to. He believed and yet and still he captured, tortured, and defamed.

"You don’t have to patronize me," Bigby growls curling his fist around the trinket, shielding it from the flagellant's' sight.

"Do you not see,” the priest says, risking a step closer, “that was never my intention.”

He lays his hand upon Bigbys, the man gasping, clenching, but he does not pull away.

The flagellant smiles, grateful for this.

“Let me show you,” he says, unfurling the abomination's fist like a chrysalis of wings.

He strokes bloody fingers over where the wood was once broken in half, the mending of rope that was used to repair it. This small token held such history, a declaration of its owner's struggle to renounce the very thing he so badly wants to forgive.

"These cracks, they represent your own journey, just like the lines of your hand. They speak to me, they say that you have not lost hope. That is what makes it so lovely."

Bigby tries to concentrate on his words and not on his touch. If he was honest, something about Damian has a way of lowering his defenses, making him forget all except for the warmth spreading in his veins.

He realizes that he's daydreaming, head lost in the clouds while the flagellant is still speaking to him.

"I believe that is why you came to us," Damian says, a revelation, "that you were drawn here when you could have gone anywhere else that night. That this is where you are meant to be."

Other than seeking a safe haven from the rain, Bigby doesn't think his decision serves any higher purpose, but now that he dwells on it maybe Damian had a point.

"I want to help you find that faith again," Damian says, looking him in the eye, "Will you permit me the honor?"

Bigby holds his gaze, crumbling to it, weak and helpless.

"Yes.”

How could he say anything else?

{To Be Continued}

#abomination/flagellant #dd abomination #dd flagellant #abomination #flagellant #dd #darkest dungeon #my writing #blighted hearts #darkest dungeon abomination #darkest dungeon flagellant

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cheesybadgers · 2 years

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(GO TO PART 2 AND PART 3)

PART 1

I’ve been meaning to do this for a while and just never got round to it, but figured now was finally the time!

This post is basically a bunch of random trivia and references for OHDH based on stuff I’ve researched when writing. There are a few things in my next couple of chapters that I thought warranted further explanation if anyone is interested. And well even if they’re not, it’s handy for me to refer to when I no doubt forget things 😂

I’ll keep adding to it as much as I can, including going back to older chapters whenever I think of anything.

1. The bombing in Madrid that happens whilst Horacio is living there in chapter 6 actually happened in real life in 1992, which is the year I placed Horacio in Spain.

2. The crucifix necklace that features throughout the fic was based on the chain we see around Carrillo’s neck in the scene below (and the screencap doubles as a nice bit of eye sex as well 😉). I just headcanoned it had a cross attached to it, seen as we see him praying with Trujillo and I think it’s highly likely he had a Catholic upbringing in Colombia.

3. Linking on from the above, thanks to this post I also found out part-way through writing the fic that there was a prop necklace made for season 2, but we never see it on screen (we were robbed!!).

I don’t know if this is the same one from season 1, I suspect it’s not otherwise why would the auction not mention that? Plus the one above appears to be silver (although the lighting is terrible in that scene so who knows?!).

The auction page says the following about the prop, along with a charm bracelet:

Now, I haven’t been able to fathom out what they mean re: the charm bracelet tbh. Because the first time we see it is when Steve goes to dinner with Connie in The Enemies of My Enemy:

He gives it to Connie to give to Olivia, but Connie tells him to keep it because he needs the luck. This scene takes place after they visit Juliana Carrillo, but what I don’t get is a) Why would Steve still have it after visiting Juliana if he was supposed to give it back to her? and b) If it is supposed to be Carrillo’s, what was he doing with it when he died? Because he clearly wasn’t wearing it lol. I can only think his wife/daughter gave him it for good luck and he just carried it around on him, which is a thought I have a lot of feelings about 😭❤️

Anyway...I digress lol. As for Carrillo’s necklace, I ran with the auction site saying the medallion is of a deity, and after falling down multiple research holes, I found out there is a Colombian deity called Bochica.

Bochica looks like this:

I went through all of the Colombian deities and to me, the medallion looks most like Bochica out of all of them.

Now, this is where I lost my mind slightly. Because Colombian mythology states that Bochica is the God of morals and laws 👀👀 So, I can only assume it was a deliberate choice by the writing team/prop department to include Bochica on Carrillo’s necklace. Which makes it even more of a crying shame that we never saw it in the show!

Linking back to OHDH for a second, as I’d already given Horacio the crucifix necklace by the time I was aware of this prop, in chapter 14 I decided to add a second one that belonged to Horacio’s dad instead. And it may make another appearance in a future chapter 😉

4. In chapter 13, Horacio talks about celebrating Día de las Velitas every Christmas (the candles in the guesthouse were his own tribute to it). It translates to ‘Day of the Little Candles’ in English and is celebrated on 7th December in Colombia. In the same chapter, Javier also mentions Las Posadas which is celebrated in various Latin American countries and Mexico between 16th and 24th December.

5. In chapter 13, the song on the radio at Chucho’s celebration meal is Look At Us by Vince Gill. Because the lyrics just felt apt for where Javier and Horacio were at by this point of their relationship ❤️

6. If you want an idea of what I had in mind for ranch!Horacio in chapter 13 (when Javier can’t control himself in the kitchen 😉), this is basically it:

This is Maurice Compte in There is a New World Somewhere (which you should definitely watch if you haven’t already btw) and even though I wrote a damn fic about this film lol, I had forgotten he wears this outfit. And it wasn’t until I went looking for gifs of Maurice wearing jeans (because I just couldn’t imagine Horacio wearing them for some reason 😂) that I realised he was basically ranch!Horacio 👀

7. The scenes between Horacio and Chucho in chapter 15 were slightly inspired by the fact that both Maurice Compte and Edward James Olmos starred together in Mayans MC. I remember watching Mayans early last year after I’d started OHDH and could not believe my luck, because their interactions in that were kinda how I imagined Horacio and Chucho (although Chucho doesn’t at any point attempt to kill Horacio, unlike their respective characters in Mayans 😂). The scene of Horacio drinking on the porch and of Chucho covering Horacio with a blanket were nods to similar scenes the actors shared in Mayans MC.

8. Speaking of Edward James Olmos, in chapter 15, Horacio finds a book on Javier’s shelf called With His Pistol in His Hand by Américo Paredes. A film adaptation was made of it in 1983 called The Ballad of Gregorio Cortez starring none other than, you’ve guessed it...Edward James Olmos. The detail of Javier and Horacio watching the film serves no purpose other than a fun Easter egg for my own amusement tbh 😂

There are also a few other literary references in the same scene as the above that I thought were kind of apt: Rosario Castellanos (a Mexican author/poet), One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez, Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin

9. In chapter 15, Chucho talks about making an altar for Mariana each Día de Muertos, which translates in English to the Day of the Dead and is celebrated in Mexican culture on 1st and 2nd November.

A large part of my inspiration for this came from a book called Everyone Knows You Go Home by Natalia Sylvester which I highly recommend.

10. Whilst on the subject of other books I’ve read that have inspired me for this fic, here are a few more (and I’ll add any others I read in the future):

Like This Afternoon Forever by Jaime Manrique

Fruit of the Drunken Tree by Ingrid Rojas Contreras

Under the Mesquite by Guadalupe Garcia McCall

11. In the opening scene of chapter 16, Chucho is cooking with a Mexican spice called epazote. And ok so this is really random, but I have to thank this interview with Tony Dalton (Lalo from Better Call Saul) who is from Laredo, for educating me on the existence of this spice. He talks in that interview about how he schooled the BCS writers on authentic Mexican cooking and got them to change a line in the script to include epazote. So, I thought why not use it here when I’m writing about characters in Laredo?! Frijoles de la Olla is also a Mexican bean dish that uses epazote in the recipe.

12. In the scene where Javier and Horacio reunite, I kind of had the bottom gif from this post in mind, which is a scene from another Maurice Compte film called I Do. Obvs Horacio is wearing a cowboy hat as well, but you get the idea 😉

13. In chapter 16, when Javier tells Horacio everything about Los Pepes and Bill Stechner, I expanded on the canon detail that Bill Stechner was an instructor at the School of the Americas and was involved with conflict in Nicaragua, and decided that it was highly likely Horacio and probably Javier as well, would have received some sort of SOA-related training.

As is so often the case, I got sucked down a research rabbit hole and ended up reading this book: The School of the Americas: Military Training and Political Violence in the Americas by Lesley Gill

This was an interesting paragraph that made me think of a certain scene in Narcos, I can’t imagine why 👀

14. Chapter 16 is named after Like a Prayer by Madonna because it just suited the mood and also, some of the lyrics are so them ❤️

15. The show sets Javier’s and Horacio’s trip to Tolú in December 1989, but never specifies a date. My anniversary with my husband also happens to be in December, so in chapter 17, I may have given them the same anniversary 😳

EDIT TO ADD: Erm, the show actually did specify a date for their trip to Tolú. And you'll never believe which date:

For some reason, I only noticed this in August 2023, so there you are, they actually do share my anniversary based on canon's timeline of events 👀👀👀

16. The song they dance to in chapter 17 is Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley. I kind of need to do a shoutout to The Killers for covering the song and planting the idea in my head to use it here after setting up in chapter 15 that Javier kept Mariana’s records in his bedroom ❤️

17. The poetry book Javier gifts to Horacio in chapter 17 was heavily based on An Anthology of Spanish Poetry: From the Beginnings to the Present Day, Including Both Spain and Spanish America by John Armstrong Crow. I particularly wanted to include Federico García Lorca because he was a gay Spanish poet, who was tragically assassinated for his socialist political views.

18. Thank you to this post for helping me figure out that ‘Mi hogar’ was the right Spanish phrase for ‘My home’ ❤️

19. There’s also a callback in chapter 17 to Horacio discovering Javier’s copy of Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin in chapter 15. Weirdly, I included this detail before I read or knew anything about Swimming in the Dark by Tomasz Jedrowski, in which the gay main character bonds with his boyfriend over Giovanni’s Room. The way I SCREAMED when I read Swimming in the Dark, having already included a reference to Giovanni’s Room in chapter 15 👀👀

20. I’ve already mentioned Las Posadas in chapter 13 and seen as chapter 17 takes place a year after chapter 13, I thought I’d go into more detail about the celebrations. You can read more about the significance of the piñata and various traditions here and here.

21. Chapter 17 mentions Día de los Reyes Magos, which takes place on 6th January and closes out the festive season. Rosca de Reyes (Kings’ Loaf) is a type of sweet bread traditionally eaten on this day.

22. Fiesta San Antonio is references in chapter 17 and is an annual festival that takes place in San Antonio every April. Cascarones are a tradition at the festival, where confetti-filled eggs are cracked over the heads of your friends and loved ones (I loved discovering this fact!).

23. I did a lot of reading about Madrid and Spain for chapters 18 and 19, so I’ll talk about the books I found the most useful here:

Snow on the Atlantic: How Cocaine Came to Europe by Nacho Carretero

This book was INVALUABLE in helping me link together Spain and Colombia with regards to drug trafficking (of which I knew nothing about beforehand, funnily enough). In fact, it’s now my headcanon that this is what Horacio would have been involved with when he was exiled to Madrid in the show lol. Galicia is a region of Spain where drug trafficking clans operate and they ship product in from Colombia to distribute through Europe. Weirdly, I saw a news story about this in the UK the other day (April 2023) where traffickers were using submarines to smuggle cocaine off the Spanish coast, so this kind of thing very much still goes on!

There was also a line in the book about Pacho Herrera visiting the clans in Galicia back in the 80s/90s, so that’s where I got that line from in chapter 18.

Operación Nécora is covered in the book, but you can also read more about it here as well (this was another namedrop in the conversation between Horacio and Álvaro).

The Book of Casey Adair by Kevin Harvey

A book about gay characters living in Madrid in the 80s – perfect research! I do have more to say about this one, but I’ll save it for after chapter 19 has been posted.

For any Pedro fans interested in A Strange Way of Life that’s coming out later this year, Pedro Almodóvar gets mentioned quite a bit in this book!

Without a Second Thought: A Memoir of Life in Franco's Madrid by Diane Lorz Benitez

This was a memoir of an American woman living in Madrid in the 70s and 80s, so just at the end and immediately after the Franco regime. Again, I will say more about this book after chapter 19 has been posted.

24. The bombing that killed Álvaro’s brother, Jaime, is based on the one that actually happened in Madrid in 1993. Please note I have not based Jaime on any of the real victims; the date of the bombing just fit the timeline of the story.

25. El Retiro Park exists in real life Madrid, as does the Fuente del Ángel Caído (fun fact: it sits 666 metres above sea level 😈), the Palacio de Cristal, the lake and the Monument to Alfonso XII.

26. La Semana Santa is Holy Week in Spain, which begins on Palm Sunday and ends on Easter Sunday. If you’re alarmed by some of the outfits shown in that link, don’t be, as they came first and it was a certain white supremacist group who did the cultural appropriation.

Some of the foods referenced in chapter 19 are traditionally eaten during La Semana Santa. Here are a few recipes: Espinacas con Garbanzos, Croquetas de Bacalao, Bartolillos Madrileños, Buñuelos de Viento, Flores Fritas and Torrijas.

27. I previously mentioned reading Without a Second Thought: A Memoir of Life in Franco’s Madrid by Diane Lorz Benitez (see point 23). In chapter 19 of OHDH, Señora Romero talks about hiding people from raids back in the days of Franco. This book references such raids by Franco’s men during the Spanish Civil War and explains how the porter in the author's apartment building used to hide people like this. So, given the age of Señora Romero, I decided she would have been in Madrid around this time and it felt fitting for her character to have put her neck on the line for others.

28. While on the subject of historical Madrid, I also previously mentioned reading The Book of Casey Adair by Kevin Harvey (see point 23 again), which follows a gay American postgrad student living in Madrid at the start of the ‘80s. It focuses largely on his personal relationships and sexuality, the political upheaval in Spain around that time and also the HIV/AIDS crisis.

I cried my eyes out at the ending, and it got me thinking about my own fic. When I first started it, I wasn’t expecting it to become so detailed with history and realism beyond what we see in Narcos, so I didn’t plan on talking about HIV/AIDS at all. But now we’re here and research has become a big part of the process for me, so even though I didn’t want it to be a significant subplot (because there's enough going on already), I wanted to at least acknowledge the existence of HIV/AIDS in a story about bisexual men set in the ‘80s/'90s. And I think it adds another layer to the sense of relief Javier and Horacio are feeling now they’ve come through the other side of everything ❤️

29. In chapter 19, the phone call between Javier and Chucho delves into their family history and gives a bit of backstory about how Chucho’s and Mariana’s parents came from Mexico to the USA. The following book about repatriation of Mexican and Mexican-American people from America in the '30s has been an invaluable resource and I couldn’t have written this scene without it: Decade of Betrayal: Mexican Repatriation in the 1930s by Francisco E. Balderrama

30. I chose Cattleya orchids for Trujillo's wedding, as it's the national flower of Colombia.

31. The church where Trujillo gets married is the same one seen in The Sword of Simón Bolivar (season 1, episode 2) where Javier is anxiously waiting for news from Helena (also just feel the need to say I'm obsessed with the framing of this shot below, it has subtext written all over it lol):

It's the Iglesia del Señor de las Misericordias and the below picture shows the balcony Javier and Horacio talk over more clearly:

32. I included several Colombian wedding traditions in Trujillo's ceremony and the reception (disclaimer: I'm not Colombian and unfortunately have never been to a Colombian wedding, but I've tried my best with research and appreciate some people may do things differently). The candle ceremony, arras coins, mantilla veil, the shoe game and belt contest, La Hora Loca, the bride and groom having godparents (padrinos and madrinas) rather than bridesmaids/best man, Trujillo's guayabera and bandeja paisa are all referenced here and here.

33. Feria de las Flores is a festival of flowers held in Medellín every August.

34. Jardín Botánico de Medellín exists in real life, and really is a stone's throw away from Iglesia del Señor de las Misericordias. However, I may have taken artistic license with the Orquideorama (the orchid canopy under which the reception is held). It does exist as below, but it wasn't actually built until 2006 lol:

I'd already decided on the botanical gardens being the reception venue, then I saw someone's beautiful wedding photos and decided I had to have the Orquideorama and the tables amongst the trees ❤️

35. I won't link each dish separately, but for most of the wedding food, I used this Colombian recipe site for ideas.

36. Cumbia is the national dance of Colombia, so I had to include it in chapter 20.

Lucho Bermúdez was an important influence in cumbia music and you can listen to Tolú here.

I've had a hard time tracking down the origins of Noches de Cartagena. It seems to be one of those old traditional songs that everyone has done a version of, e.g. here's one version that sounds very different to this one. So take your pick!

37. Given Javier's background, I wanted to include something from the Tejano/Texan music world as well: Laura Canales was a Tejano musician and Hank Locklin made country music.

I also want to mention this piece written by a gay Texan man about dance hall life and his sexuality. It's so beautifully written and the lyrics to a Hank Locklin song called Please Help Me, I'm Falling certainly hit different from a queer point of view. Immediately after reading this piece, I wrote Javier's memories of dancing in chapter 20.

38. If anyone didn't already know what shirt stays/garters are, you're welcome:

They're commonly worn in the military/police, apparently, so I figured there's no way Horacio would put up with an untidy shirt 😉

39. Carolina García Velásquez, who is mentioned in the final scene of chapter 20, is the innocent bystander killed by accident in the La Dispensaria raid. The show didn't give her a name, so I did, just to give Horacio some closure really.

40. For some strange reason, the show never gives Trujillo a first name. So, in the OHDH universe, he's called Felipe, just because I thought it suited him tbh lol.

41. I don’t think I’ve ever really mentioned the fact I decided to kill off Horacio’s dad lol. The only reference to Carrillo’s parents in the show seems to be this one-off line by Escobar when he’s having his bitch-off with Horacio over the phone:

So, this suggests in canon, Carrillo’s parents are very much alive and well. But in the OHDH universe, I liked the parallel with Javier losing his mother (seen as it’s very heavily implied she’s no longer around in the show, and I believe the mother of the real life Javier Peña died too) and helped to develop the thread of grief running throughout the fic.

42. I established in chapter 17 that Horacio’s family live in Manizales. So, once I started researching the city and discovered it’s part of the coffee growing region of Colombia, the idea of the coffee farm in chapter 21 just sprung to mind.

43. La Leyenda del Mareco (The Legend of the Mareco), which Horacio tells Javier about in chapter 21, is a story from Antioquian folklore that I came across in my research.

44. The sudado de pollo recipe cooked in chapter 21 is based on this one and this one (for some reason, the voice of the chef in the video totally reminded me of Juliana Carrillo’s lol).

45. The line in chapter 21 about Madrid being good enough for Simón Bolívar stems from the fact he lived there for two years and married a Spanish woman named María Teresa Rodríguez del Toro y Alaysa.

46. The references to La Violencia (The Violence) relate to a civil war that took place in Colombia between the Conversative and Liberal Parties in the ‘40s and ‘50s. Given how old I placed Horacio and Eduardo, it fit that Eduardo would have been a serving police officer around this time, and I liked the parallel of him being as morally conflicted as Horacio ended up becoming.

The Colombian military and the CNP were largely on the side of the Conservatives, and were up to their necks in brutality and corruption (police officers who were known to be Liberals were also kicked out of the force). So, for me, it kind of puts the outrage/surprise in the show at Carrillo’s more extreme methods in a new light, because plenty of police officers/soldiers before him did a lot worse lol.

Ironically, a lot of those displaced in rural areas by La Violencia fled to cities like Medellín and that's how Comuna 13 was born, which obviously went on to become a victim of Escobar's violence.

Some books I read that add a lot more context about this era:

In Evil Hour by Gabriel García Márquez

Blood and Fire: La Violencia in Antioquia, Colombia, 1946-1953 by Mary Roldán

47. Speaking of Gabriel García Márquez, the line Javier quotes to Alejandra in chapter 21 is from One Hundred Years of Solitude (“We came,” they said, “because everyone is coming.”). In the book, it comes after a railroad is built to Macondo (the fictional town the story is set), which sees the beginning of capitalist imperialism in the town as the American banana companies take over and exploit the Colombian workers.

The line before the one Javier quotes is: “Look at the mess we’ve got ourselves into,” Colonel Aureliano Buendía said at that time, “just because we invited a gringo to eat some bananas.”

It just felt like an apt comparison to America’s involvement in the War on Drugs, so that’s how that ended up in there.

48. In the same conversation between Javier and Alejandra in chapter 21, he calls cowboys ‘vaqueros’ whereas she refers to them as ‘llaneros’. ‘Vaquero’ is the Mexican word for ‘cowboy’ and ‘llanero’ is the Colombian equivalent.

49. The two cats in chapters 21 and 22, Caturra and Bourbon, are named after types of coffee beans.

50. In the conversation between Horacio and Elena in chapter 22, I couldn’t have written the parts about the jaguar, snake and condor without Infinite Country by Patricia Engel (I’ll talk about this book more again after chapter 23).

Another book by a Colombian author that inspired me for chapters 21/22 was The Man Who Could Move Clouds: A Memoir by Ingrid Rojas Contreras (the same author as The Fruit of the Drunken Tree, which I’ve mentioned above somewhere).

51. In chapter 22, when Horacio says: “But there can be a certain kind of freedom in the dark....” I have to give a nod to Black Sails. It’s a quote I’ve talked about before on my Tumblr after I realised it had unintentional similarities to chapters 1 and 2 of OHDH (I only watched Black Sails for the first time in 2023, so wasn’t aware of Flint’s quote back in 2021). Obviously, Flint isn’t just talking about queerness in his speech to Silver, but I used light/dark metaphors in a similar way at the start of this fic, so this is just another callback to that.

52. The mention of El Dorado (‘The Golden One’) in chapter 22 is in reference to the Spanish conquistadors’ quest for a hidden city of gold when they came to Colombia and other parts of Latin America. The legend centres on Lake Guatavita (located near current-day Bogotá), which was one of the sacred lakes of the Muisca people (of which Bochica is a deity of). They were said to carry out rituals at the lake involving their leader being covered in gold dust and trinkets/jewellery etc. would be thrown into the water as offerings. The Spanish colonisers found the lake and tried to drain it in order to hunt for gold, but nothing substantial has ever been found. The lake is now a protected area and attempts to drain it are illegal.

53. The Simón Bolívar half-man, half-condor statue in Manizales mentioned in chapter 22 exists in real life:

54. Here’s the Colombian coat of arms referenced in chapter 22, which also forms part of the CNP emblem:

55. Bochica has been mentioned previously, but I added reference to Chibchacum here as well, who was the one to cause the flood that Bochica stopped with a strike of his staff by creating the Tequendama Falls (also near current-day Bogotá).

56. Día de Todos los Santos refers to the Catholic tradition of All Saints Day, which as explained in chapter 22 differs from Día de Muertos. I wanted to show the differences between Colombian and Mexican culture here – and by extension, Horacio’s and Javier’s different experiences - but then also maybe have one kinda influence the other based on Horacio’s time spent in Texas.

57. Calentado is mentioned in chapter 22 and there’s a recipe if you fancy a traditional Colombian breakfast and here’s a recipe for cocadas as well.

58. Eduardo’s term of endearment for Elena is ‘Mi media naranja’, which literally translates from Spanish as ‘My half an orange’ but really means ‘My better half’ or ‘My soulmate’. I went with soulmate in my translation, as it feels more significant/appropriate to me. The reference to a postcard with orange groves on it in Eduardo’s trinket box is also a nod to this nickname, just because lol.

59. In case anyone was wondering, or didn’t pick up on it, the scene towards the end of chapter 22 between Horacio and Javier in the car and looking down on Medellín is the same spot from chapter 5 where they said goodbye before Horacio left for Madrid. It felt like the perfect full circle but everything is obviously different now ❤️

#Narcos #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #OHDH Trivia #OHDH #My Moodboards

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