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#oc diego
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I redesigned my TD OCs. So I made a little evolution of all their designs. Part 1/2
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Alex
The Attention Hog didn't have many changes. He stayed consistently orange but other things changed.
His beach-y look got more stylish and his hair got more swept back and changed in color.
He's still desperate for attention. That never changes.
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Augustus
The Religious Do-Gooder didn't have many design changes but he certainly changed in concept.
Originally he was just a religious guy that went wild during the show. Feral!Auggie got dropped in favor of making his arc a bit more serious.
He's still a sheltered religious kid but his journey of learning about the real world will be taken a lot more serious instead of making him a joke.
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Cherry
The Competitive Dancer barely changed. She only had one design before this and all that changed was making her a bit more modest. And adding some green.
Not much to say about her otherwise. Except some new additions to the cast will change her story arc a bit.
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Darla
The Visionary had a big and very noticeable change in her 2nd design. The moon afro has become her signature look and the main reason I don't wanna draw her from the side.
Her outfit also got more darker in color. Which make the lighter part of her outfit stand out more.
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Diego
The Zoologist is a design I haven't shown off before. Because originally he and his sister would be newcomers in a 2nd season.
Also not much to say about his redesign. Just cleaned up the original.
Personality wise he's a peacekeeper, he loves animals and is basically the team leader. He's also a bit of a neat freak but he tries not to be obnoxious about it. Tries.
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Finn
The Workaholic got a lot less saturated as time went on. He's duller colors reflect how much passion he has for all his jobs. Not much.
His hair got cleaned up, the uniform less cluttered, a new shade of blue. And his stubble got more youthful. He's only 18. He doesn't need to look like he's in his 30s.
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Flo
The Rebel Rocker based on Floyd Pepper from The Muppets!
Her outfit kept looking more pirate like so I just leaned into it. I made it her brand. Her hair also got longer with her bangs supposed to resemble Floyd's mustache.
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Gabriel
The Pretentious Goth also has only 2 designs. And the redesign looks a lot cleaner then the original.
Darker colors, refined his outfit, a bigger hat and restyled hair makes a world of difference despite the similarities.
His opinion of you hasn't changed tho. He still thinks you're below him.
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Isa
The Botanist is the 2nd half of the Globetrotting siblings. Unlike a certain other pair of siblings, Diego and Isa have a much healthier relationship. They're still competitive af tho.
Her design didn't change too much. Her colors did however. The dark orange looks better next to Diego's blue and makes her stand out more in the cast overall.
Now she may not look like it, but this gal is the Owen/Sugar/Ripper of the season. She's a total slob and it drives her brother insane. Not that she ever listens to his complaints. Or other people's complaints. She's a handful.
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Janus
The Hippie bases on Janice from the Muppets!
Like his inspiration he had some prominent lips that got removed in the 2nd design. But were brought back in the new design. His pink also got softer.
His name however was the thing that changed the most throughout his development. Starting with Jason to Jonas to finally Janus. Which is pronounced basically the same as Janice.
I've been having a lot of fun redesigning them all. I hope you all like them as well.
The other 10 will be posted soon.
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drabbles-mc · 5 months
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Crumbled to Dust
Horacio Carrillo & F!Reader (ft. OC Diego Ramírez)
For @narcosfandomdiscord's Day of Surprises: create a fanwork that focuses on dreams, either literal or metaphorical
Warnings: 18+, language, nightmares/ptsd, angst, mentions of blood
Word Count: 1.2k
A/N: It's so like me to see a prompt that says 'dreams' and automatically turn it into 'nightmares' isn't it? 😂 I feel like some of the context for this story makes a lot more sense if you've read Grave Mistakes however, that being said, you will be able to understand most of what's going on just fine without it. I think that if anyone is going to haunt Carrillo's nightmares, it's only right that it's Diego. That's all.
Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @616wilsons @mirabee @nessamc @mysun-n-stars @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @narcolini @hausofmamadas @cositapreciosa
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When he snapped out of the nightmare it wasn’t with a jolt and a gasp. His eyes snapped open, air constricted in his chest, tied into knots in his lungs. Sweat slicked the side of his face that was pressed to the pillow, the case of it cool now, but uncomfortable and damp. He could feel a few stray beads of sweat still creeping their way across his chest, gravity pulling them down towards the sheets as he laid with one shoulder pressed into the mattress, all stacked up on one side.
He tried to move, tried to take a concentrated breath, but he couldn’t do either. He was just frozen for a moment, jaw and fists all clenched tight enough that it was shocking the nightmare woke him instead of the popping of his joints, or the cracking of his bones.
Slowly, working upwards from the soles of his feet until it finally reached the muscles of his neck, the tension waned. He unfurled his fingers, sucked in a deep breath like he’d finally broken the surface after being held underwater for too long. Instead of water he was drowning in he wiped the sweat from the side of his face instead. It took longer than it should have, longer than even on his night with the least amount of sleep, but he finally rolled onto his back and forced himself to sit upright.
It was harder to shake off nightmares when they were of things that had already happened.
He heard the gunshot, the scream. He heard the ragged breathing coming from the back seat of the car. He saw the blood—on Diego, on the backseat, on his clothes, on you. The knots in his lungs came back the more he thought about it. Awake or asleep it didn’t matter. The nightmare didn’t stop.
Each time he tried to think himself away from it, he always circled right back to it. His finger pulling the trigger. Diego crumpling on the stairs, his only crime trying to bring a fellow officer to safety. Ramos hadn’t ever really forgiven Carrillo either. In moments other than the one he was in, he wondered if the two of you ever commiserated together over that. All these years he thought he’d been adept at holding grudges, but his anger had nothing on his conscience, and now it was him versus himself.
Looking at the time on the clock, he knew there was no use in trying to go back to sleep. It was too far into the morning hours now. Even if it hadn’t been, waking out of a nightmare only to be catapulted right back into it when he went to sleep again didn’t hold any appeal. He might as well get up and shower off the sweat.
His head pressed against the tile in the shower, eyes closing as the water beat down his back. A reprieve that was close enough to sleep without letting his imagination run too wild. The water trickled down his shoulders, his back, down his legs until it hit the floor of the tub.
When he opened his eyes all he saw was blood swirling down the drain instead. His eyes widened, breath hitching. Two more blinks and it was all running clear again.
He was sitting at the foot of his bed, towel tied around his waist. Droplets from the showerhead were still slowly crawling down his back. Elbows pressed to his knees, he dropped his head into his hands. He stared at the floor beneath his feet, willing himself to think about something else, anything else.
He wished he could call you. He wished that you wouldn’t hang up the moment you realized who it was on the other end of the line. You had every right, of course. No one in the world could blame you, least of all Carrillo. He’d dashed your dreams once before, and somehow he’d figured out a way to not only do it again, but to up the ante in the process. He wouldn’t be able to be that cruel to someone even if he’d tried, and he’d tried, but somehow he’d accidentally dragged you directly into your worst nightmare.
The sun started to come up, colors clawing their way through the windows. He got halfway through buttoning the shirt of his fatigues before his hands started acting independently of his brain and he dialed your number. It rang, and rang, and rang. He hung up. He should’ve taken it as a sign to give it up while he still could, but relenting had never been a strength of his. He dialed Diego’s number next.
“Hello?” a tired, raspy answer after a ring and a half. He couldn’t force out a response. Clearing your throat, you tried to speak more clearly but it felt like your throat was still raw, head throbbing from tears spilt. “Hello?”
“I’m sorry,” he forced out.
The following pause was long, uncomfortably so. He would’ve assumed that you’d hung up completely if he’d heard anything reminiscent of a click. “Don’t call here, Horacio.”
“I’m—”
“I don’t care,” you said, voice cracking as a fresh wave of tears cascaded. “I don’t care if you’re sorry—it won’t bring him back. It won’t change what you did.”
He thought the nightmare had been losing you the first time around. All that time ago when he had driven you away. At that moment he’d watched a thousand little dreams about you all crumble to dust around him, all because he just didn’t have it in him to show you. That was all you’d wanted, really, someone who could show you, tell you how they felt. You’d gone and found it in someone else when you couldn’t find it in Carrillo, but he’d gone and taken that from you too—your dreams all dust right alongside his now. The real nightmare was so much worse than he ever could’ve imagined.
He only got one syllable out of the question how are you before you cut him off again. It was just as well, really. He knew how you were doing. He put you there. “I hope you’re losing as much sleep over this as I am, Horacio.”
You’d never been the type to be cruel. It almost made him think that none of it was real. But it was. He knew it was. And he was the reason you were like this now. “I am,” he admitted, honest the way that he should’ve been with you so long before now.
“Good,” you said, wanting it to sound scathing, but the tremble in your voice as your lips quivered dulled the edges of your anger. You tried to take a breath in and were only partially successful—Carrillo could hear the knots in your lungs too. “I keep waiting for this all to be over. But it never is. There’s always more.” You sniffled. “Absolute fucking nightmare.”
“Let me—”
“If you call here again, I’ll unplug the fucking phone, Horacio.”
He knew that you meant it. “I’m sorry,” he offered up one more time, like it was going to make any difference now. All he got in response was the click of you cutting the call.
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peapod20001 · 2 months
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Ghehgegeh boyfriends <3
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astererer · 6 months
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OCtober day 15: meme
We’re back baybeeee I skipped the palette days bc I didn’t feel like doing them lol
This is Diego who I….. have not drawn during this whole month oops. He was heavily inspired by Super Hans from Peep Show so of course I had to go with this lol
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itsberru · 2 months
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your local tiefling has a new outfit 🌊
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phidont · 2 months
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Little scene from the Hot Pants fic I so badly wanna write, but played a little sillier because I did this for a class assignment.
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onmyyan · 4 months
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Diego Dumas
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Spoiler alert he's a werewolf
Was bitten, not born, and he kinda loves being a monster.
He used to feel all angsty about his condition, that is until he used it to get rid of a bastard who in his mind, committed a great sin against you and your relationship (some dude made you giggle which he took as a threat), now he's all for it.
Likes to scent you even though you can't smell it, he can.
And boy oh boy does he like it when he's the only thing he can smell on you.
But that means God help you if you dare to come home smelling like someone else, will pitch the biggest fit.
Can shift on command, has been afflicted since he was 18 so he's had a lotta practice on getting this thing under control.
Hence the scarring, but if you ask him he'll just say he's clumsy.
Age 24 this big boy stands at a tall 6'5
Scary dog privilege goes without saying.
Bites to give affection
Please bite him back
Favorite color is that pale blue the sky is when the sun is first coming up.
Works as a security guard for a small plaza in your town, keeping little old ladies safe and all that, his stature is enough to stop most would be criminals but if someone tries him he's more than happy to bare his teeth.
Accidental flirt, he makes really intense eye contact when he speaks to people, that paired with his warm baritone voice leaves mf's flustered.
Smells faintly of campfire and the woods, always has dirt on his shoes.
Would walk around barefoot if he could.
Please pretty please pet this mf's hair.. he will fall apart in your lap.
Protective/delulu yandere, in his brain y'all are basically married, so ofc he's gonna glare at the UPS guy until he's too freaked out and leaves your package by the driveway
Don't worry he'll go get it
Kinda just inserts himself in your life, but he's so smooth with it, it's hard to stay mad
One second he's some hot dude you see around town the next thing you know he's in your house raiding your fridge and complaining about your snack selection.
Huge foodie, something about shifting makes him hungry, he eats like he's filming a mukbang
Surprisingly funny for such a stoic looking fucker
Has a dry wit and he can come off as blunt or rude but it's just his tizzim' (samebro)
Outdoorsy and handy
In his dream life y'all live in a secluded cabin in the thick woods where the only person with access to you was him
If you're in the dark about his condition he'll keep you in the dark as long as possible but it's hard not to know when he's basically a doberman that got turned into a man
Extremely loving and warm, likes to bear hug you when y'all sleep, unless you got a queen sized bed he will take up the entire thing.
His socks are always mix matched
Likes keeping a braid in his hair, especially if you're the person braiding it.
Has binged the Twilights with you and has a personal beef with Jacob
Radiates heat like a mf, even in his human form he runs hot as hell, like to keep a window open at night but don't worry, getting cold isn't possible with him next to you.
Likes baggy clothes because he's big.
When he gets real man, like real mad his nails grow into claws, has scars on his palms from clenching his fist too hard.
His eyes flash with hints of yellow when he's turning.
All in all this good boy just needs someone to hold his leash.
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yunisverse · 8 months
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I work with therapists for a living and I KNOW they'd love to work with this absolute basket case,
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royalsea-art · 9 months
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I'M SO HAPPY
so, last dnd session, it was finally revealed that Diego (my character) is the infamous masked killer that wears a golden mask, the Harlequin of Arca.
I've been trying to hide this reveal from the other players for a year, but finally he revealed his secret identity to the others when things got really ugly. I'm really excited to be able to share more info about him!!!
He's been operating as the Harlequin for over a decade, approx. His main targets are usually nobles from the good part of the capital (Arca Alta), and he only kills for money, meaning someone has to hire his services first. He hasn't had any contracts in the last few months, and when strange, magic-burned bodies started showing up near the port on the lower part of the city, people thought it was the Harlequin's doing.
the last straw was when someone tried to kill the current head of the Empire, and fingers were pointed at the Harlequin again. Frustrated, he decided to leave a message to the people, hanging a scarecrow fashioned after a corpse, with a note stating his innocence.
last session, the other party members were being accused of being involved with the Harlequin, so Diego had to intervene. We left the session at a cliffhanger, and I can't wait to see what happens next!!!!!!
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get-rammed · 5 months
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"Superstar, I don't think that's Monty-"
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Boy Dad Miguel.
Gimmie BoyDad!Miguel.
A Miguel who gets SO excited to have a girl.
Who is over the moon at the news, in tears, decks out the nursery in all pink. A Miguel who calls your belly 'princess' and 'mija' all throughout the pregnancy, buying dresses and bows and the barrettes for the pink bundle of joy. A Miguel who almost passes out the second the nurse says 'Wait, I think it might be a boy-' while you're in delivery
I want a Miguel with a little baby boy who looks JUST like him - with the same curly hair and round brown eyes like Gabriel. And he suddenly has to relearn everything he did with Gabby.
I think that be so cute.
Miguel and a little boy with a temper like him, and Miguel has to help him curb it and calm down sometimes. One of those kids that loves insects and keeps telling Miguel interesting facts about spiders and bugs
Miguel being completely sidelined by having a boy - or even better, multiple boys, in a row. Trying multiple times for a girl and getting MORE BOYS.
And just having to readjust really quickly cause he's so use to having a 'Mija' in the house, that having a mijo - or mijos - seems entirely new to him
And his son grows up to be like him, just as cocky and sarcastic, but so much healthier. A son that wants to be JUST LIKE his dad, and Miguel wanting to be a good role model.
I'd like more BoyDad!Miguel please.
A Miguel loves his son(s) to death, and they're so much like him and he just adores it.
Give him some sons he has the range
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doctorsiren · 11 days
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Old art of mine I found while looking through my procreate gallery
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drabbles-mc · 1 year
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Grave Mistakes
Horacio Carrillo & OC Diego Ramírez (ft. Reader)
For Day 12 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: friendly fire / "Get away from me"
Warnings: 18+, major character death, angst, language, blood/injury
Word Count: 5.7k
A/N: And another layer of the Diegoverse emerges. The saddest layer to date. Whumpril really comes for everyone eventually.
Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @anditsmywholeheart @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @southotheborder @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @passionatewrites @artemiseamoon @purplesong1028 @hausofmamadas @narcolini @cositapreciosa (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)
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The entire scene was utter fucking chaos. It was dark, loud, cramped quarters. All of the reasons that they shouldn’t have been there in the first place continued to become more and more evident with each passing second, but it was too late to take it back now. Even if they abandoned all their plan and decided to retreat, there was no telling how many men they were going to lose in the process of that. It was at the point now that backing down would just mean that they would have all of that loss and nothing to show for it. So, they pushed onward.
There were so many yelling voices intermingled with the incessant gunfire that an untrained ear wouldn’t have had a prayer in hell in trying to piece it apart. Even for the men who had been training day in and day out for this didn’t exactly have an easy time of it all. Difficult but not impossible.
Diego was completely tuned into the situation that was unfolding around him. The adrenaline coursing through his veins made the blood in his ears seem louder, but it also let him pick apart the chaos that was coming down around him. In the cacophony of yelling and screams of pain, Diego managed to be able to hear Carrillo’s voice through it all. He heard the instructions that were being barked out, his body responding before he even realized that his brain had processed it. Before he knew it, they’d all split off into their smaller teams. Divide and conquer.
The concept of time had been lost on all of them. For all they knew, they could’ve been trapped in the firefight for a few minutes or a few hours. Each second felt like it was stretching to be longer than the last. The trail of dropped bodies left behind by both Search Bloc and Escobar’s sicarios was only getting longer by second after endless second.
In a perfect world, Search Bloc would’ve operated on a no man left behind basis. But they weren’t working in a perfect world—they wouldn’t have been necessary if the world had been perfect. The unfortunate reality was that a lot of men got left behind in the heat of things. There was no triage until everything was over with, and by then it was usually too late for it to matter. It was bleak, but those were the unfortunate rules of engagement that every single officer in Search Bloc had agreed to when they joined.
Dragging people to safety was a difficult thing to prioritize when each man was trying to make sure that he wasn’t getting himself shot while trying not to trip over the body of his fallen or injured fellow officer. That was another harsh reality that they all lived with, a callous that had to form over the last gentle aspects of themselves.
And, every other night that they hit the streets, it was something that was ever-present in Diego’s mind, evident in the way that he moved and operated with the rest of the officers. Not this time.
They’d cleared the top floor of the house, him and three other officers. Two of the men who’d been there escaped out the window and onto the rooftop of the next building over, the others were stopped in their tracks by a tirade of bullets when Diego and his men burst into the rooms. Diego sent two of his men after the ones who’d run off—better odds of both of them coming back if they didn’t go alone.
“Ramos,” Diego spoke with such a finality in his tone as he pointed to the man in front of him before gesturing to himself, “conmigo.”
Diego and the officer that had stayed with him shared a wordless exchange as they reloaded their weapons. It ended with Diego nodding back towards the stairs as he raised his gun once more, ready in case anyone was coming up the stairs that shouldn’t have been. He walked behind the other man, neither of them saying anything as they listened for anything that was supposed to be a cue, or a warning.
They hadn’t even reached the top of the staircase when one straggler came bursting out of one of the rooms they’d previously thought to be empty. One gunshot rang through the air followed by Ramos beginning to crumple to the ground. Before Diego could even think twice about it, he turned and fired two bullets, one into the man’s chest, one into his head.
Looking down, Diego saw blood starting to seep through the pantleg of his teammate. He was struggling, trying to get upright again. Diego didn’t even have to think twice about it as he squatted down, looping his arm underneath that of his friend and hoisting him up to his feet.
Ramos was allowing Diego to drag him along towards the stairs, not that he had much of another choice. He tried to protest, telling Diego to leave him and someone would come back for him later, but Diego wasn’t hearing any of it. They’d lost enough men already. He wasn’t going to be the reason that they lost another.
Meanwhile, Carrillo and the few men that he had been running with had come up high and dry. Foot-chases had a low success rate no matter who was doing the running. He’d lost Peña and Murphy to the chase, the two DEA agents already disappeared around the corner of the block where they were at, determined to chase the men as far as they could. Carrillo knew that being the third person to take off from the epicenter of it all wasn’t going to do anyone any good. He knew that the two of them could handle themselves, so he turned and started making his way back into the thick of it all.
He didn’t have far to travel to get back to the buildings where he’d sent his men, and yet as he quickly traversed the short stretch, he felt like he was weaving in a constant attempt to avoid being pieced by bullets that were coming seemingly from all directions. He turned, firing into a few of the windows where he thought they were coming from, be he was already moving forward again before he could stop to think about whether or not he even hit an intended target.
Just as he was approaching the door of the house where Diego and his men were, one of Escobar’s men came skidding out of the alleyway next to the house, clearly trying to outrun a different officer. He almost slammed completely into Carrillo, nearly knocking the Colonel off his feet. Carrillo stumbled back a step, heart racing and caught off-guard. Luckily, his response time was just a fraction of a second faster than the man fumbling to jump up off the ground in front of him. He was just about to point the gun at Carrillo’s head when the colonel pulled the trigger on his own gun, splattering blood and all manner else onto the dirt and grass by the man’s head.
Heart still pounding in his chest from the surprise and the close call, Carrillo abruptly pushed open the door to the house. He scanned quickly, gun at the ready, but found the first floor empty. He was starting to make his way across the expanse of the disheveled, empty room when he heard gunshots from upstairs. He froze, hoping that the pause n his movements would slow his heartrate down as well. He heard three shots and one pained scream, but that didn’t tell him enough about how the situation had played itself out. Whoever it was that came out on top, was going to have to come down the stairs, and when they did, Carrillo would be ready to fire.
For Diego and Ramos, getting down the stairs wasn’t pretty, but they were making do on the first few steps. Diego still had his gun clutched in the hand that wasn’t supporting the man who was leaning so heavily onto him, although realistically he was in no position to shoot. This was why they didn’t go back for anyone until everything was said and done.
As he tried to make the next step, Ramos misjudged how far ahead he was placing his foot, causing him to slip and stumble, dragging Diego with him. Diego was doing what he could to keep them both from going down, his actions pulling a pained yell from the other officer’s throat as he did.
Carrillo didn’t have a good enough view of the entire staircase to get a full picture of what was going on. He saw the quick flash of the CNP uniform, which was almost reassuring, but at the sound of his officer’s anguished scream, all Carrillo zeroed in on was someone grabbing at the bloodied officer, and a gun waving around. Without thinking twice about it, he aimed and squeezed the trigger.
The next scream that cut through the air was one that Carrillo instantly recognized, and it caused his stomach to drop. Lowering his gun, his eyes widened as he watched Diego let go of Ramos, attempting to brace himself on the wall that ran alongside the staircase. His gun clattered to the floor as he brought his hands to his stomach, just below where his tac-vest covered. Neither officer really capable of supporting themselves now.
The chaos outside the walls of the building they were in continued, but everything came to a complete standstill for a few agonizing seconds on the first floor of that one nondescript building in the middle of Medellín. It wasn’t often that Carrillo found himself at a complete loss about what to do, how to handle a situation, but he felt like he was completely frozen in place as the weight of what had just happened started to settle over him. He’d made more than his fair share of bad calls throughout his career, but this was one that he wasn’t going to be able to shake off, to try and blame someone else for. There was not going to be any justifying how this went down if someone was to ask, not in a way that would ever really put his own mind at ease.
“Colonel,” Ramos broke the unbearable silence, speaking through gritted teeth.
One word was all he’d said, but it was enough to force Carrillo into action. It was all a blur as he worked to get both of the officers closer to the door. The sounds of gunfire outside were finally starting to subside. It wasn’t gone completely, but the fight was fading.
Triage. Damage control. It’d never been Carrillo’s forte, never been something that he bothered himself with. He’d made plenty of messes that he never had to stick around to clean up, but he knew that there wasn’t going to be any easy walking away from this one. He already knew what the worst case scenario was, knew how likely it was that that was going to be the outcome. If Carrillo had been looking at the situation logically, if he had been playing the odds the way that he usually did, he would’ve left Diego behind. Collateral damage. Time and resources would’ve been better spent on the officer who had a better rate of survival.
But Carrillo was the one who shot him, and all of the logic had been stripped from him because of that.
Ramos didn’t put up a fight about it either. When he saw Carrillo hoisting Diego upright, he also saw the split second of hesitation in the Colonel’s face, like he knew that he was choosing the wrong side of a losing battle. But the officer simply waved them on, knowing that only one out of the two of them could afford to wait.
“Ramírez,” Carrillo grunted as he pulled Diego along with him, the younger officer still clutching his wound that was losing blood at an alarming rate, “no puedes morir.” The colonel wasn’t known for being the type to plead, but in that moment it was about as close as he’d ever gotten to it.
Carrillo was dragging him towards one of the vehicles that was still left and usable. Steve and Javi were standing by it, slicked with sweat from their own chase, which looked like it turned out to be fruitless, but completely unscathed otherwise. Both of them realized what was going on at the same time.
“What the fuck happened?” Steve asked as he went over to help get Diego the rest of the way to the car.
Carrillo avoided the question, not wanting to give the answer. “He doesn’t have long.”
The two of them, very ungracefully, got Diego into the back seat. Steve was helping Diego get his tac-vest off when he repeated the question, directing it at the Colonel even though his focus was on Diego. “Carrillo, what the fuck happened?”
Javi interjected. “He got fuckin’ shot, Steve. What does it look like?”
Steve didn’t dignify Javi’s sarcasm as he continued to talk to Carrillo. “You see who shot him? He get away?”
Carrillo felt like he was frozen in place as he watched Steve peel Diego’s vest off. The fact that Diego hadn’t thrown him clean under the bus yet had Carrillo more confused than anything else that had been going on.
“It was me.” The words came out before Carrillo had fully thought through what it meant to say them.
Steve’s head dropped back. “What the fuck.”
“It wasn’t—” Carrillo stopped himself short, shaking his head. The accidental nature of it all was implied, but it didn’t undo the damage.
Javi shook his head. “Whole operation was a fuckin’ mess. Shouldn’t’ve—”
“Not the time, Peña,” Carrillo cut him off.
Steve shoved the car keys into Carrillo’s hand. “Take him.”
The Colonel instantly shook his head as he gestured to the mess they’d just created. “My men—”
“One of your men is bleeding out in the back seat because you shot him.” Steve nodded towards the driver’s door. “Take him to the fucking hospital.”
Carrillo cast a split-second glance at Javi, almost like he was waiting to see if the man was going to offer him an out on this one. That was usually the division of it, after all: Steve and Diego versus Carrillo and Javi. But the concern that was starting to break through the annoyance on the agent’s face, along with his silence, let Carrillo know that he was alone in the water on this.
In every other circumstance, Carrillo would’ve fought back against Steve. He didn’t have the right to be able to speak to him like that. He had no rank to pull. But this was the one time that Carrillo had to admit he had no right to argue. And there was no time to waste getting into a bigger debate about it. Diego was on borrowed time now as it was.
It was a miracle that the vehicle they were in had suffered as little damage as it had. Carrillo threw it in gear and took off towards the hospital. His eyes were constantly flicking back and forth between the road in front of him, and the rearview mirror that was angled so he could look at Diego in the back seat so he could see if Diego had gone and fully bled out.
It was silent between the two of them, not that that was anything new. It’d been a long time since anything besides orders and reports had been shared between the two. This silence was different, though. All of the tension that existed between them seemed to evaporate almost instantly now that the circumstances changed, now that things were dire the rest of the mess didn’t seem to matter.
“Carrillo,” Diego had his eyes shut tight, trying to breathe against the pain and not think about the exhaustion, “call—”
“No,” Carrillo cut him off, knowing exactly where the sentence was going. He wished that he could say that he was being adamant about it because he had faith that everything was going to turn out alright, but it was much more selfish than that. There was no guarantee that things were going to turn out alright. With each passing second as Carrillo sped down the road it seemed less and less likely that it would. But he still wasn’t ready to do what Diego was about to ask of him.
The shaky breath that Diego let out in lieu of that would’ve almost been a laugh if he hadn’t been dripping blood off the seat and onto the floor of the car. He was at a loss for what else he was supposed to be doing. Everything that was unfolding and on top of it all, he still couldn’t get in touch with you.
The hospital had been ready for them to show up. Carrillo didn’t know if someone made a call, or if they had seen it on the news, or if it was just one tiny shred of luck in the midst of the shitshow of the day, but he was met at the door by doctors who were much better prepared to transport Diego than he was.
They asked what happened, along with a few other questions that Carrillo answered but if someone had asked him to recount the conversation he wouldn’t have been able to. It was hard to focus on anything else when he could see the way that Diego was fading more and more as each second went by. The same man who was annoyingly present, determined and positive to a nearly naïve extent, the one who had been able to maneuver through every single thing that Carrillo had thrown his way over the years, was hardly able to keep his own eyes open. Carrillo knew that he should’ve had something to say to the man laying in front of him, but he couldn’t force any of the words out.
A team of doctors was wheeling Diego away when one of them stepped back to let Carrillo know that they would update him when they could. Carrillo nodded, thanking them, but the ice that was starting to run through his veins told him that the next update that they were going to give him, wasn’t going to be a good one.
He paced in the waiting room, unable to sit down, unable to force himself to leave. Each time a doctor or nurse came out, he stopped and waited, hoping that they were coming over to talk to him, but they never were. Other people were being brought in, some of them officers, others looking like they were unfortunate bystanders to the mess that had unfolded at the hands of the CNP and Escobar’s men.
He wasn’t usually around to see this part. At this point, he was usually picking through the wreckage for anything that was useful, carting out any of Escobar’s men who were lucky, or unlucky, enough to survive. By this time during any other op, he was out there getting answers. But now he was stuck in the hospital waiting for someone else to give them to him. The weight of the entire day should’ve been resting on his shoulders. The insubordination, the bad tip, the botched op, all of that should’ve been noise in his brain that was impossible to silence. But it barely even moved the needle on the register. All he could think about was the look of pure shock and pain on Diego’s face, the sound he let out when the bullet buried itself in him.
His eyes were glued to the tiled floor as it all came rushing back again. He was so lost in his regret that he missed the doctor who was walking over to him. When he cleared his throat to get Carrillo’s attention, the colonel found himself flinching at the sound.
The doctor didn’t even have to say it. Carrillo could tell by the look on the man’s face what had happened. There was exhaustion and sadness etched into the man’s features as he offered up a simple but sincere, “Lo siento mucho.”
Carrillo gave the man a small nod of acknowledgment, of dismissal, but didn’t say anything in return. The doctor took his cue to go, leaving Carrillo standing there in the middle of the waiting room, once again staring at the floor. He knew that he should force himself to move, to go back to base, to go back to where the rest of his men were cleaning up the mess, but it felt like his feet were rooted to the floor. He knew that there were going to be calls to make, not just for Diego but for the other men as well. He couldn’t make himself move to take care of any of it, though. The chaos of the hospital was different from what he’d been lost in before, but there was enough of a similarity that it made Carrillo’s chest feel like it was going to cave in.
The blood rushing in his ears was deafening, the pounding of his heart inside his ribcage so intense that it felt like it was a cruel reminder that his was still working, that he was still here while Diego was lying lifeless on a cold metal table behind some door that Carrillo didn’t even have access to.
Just when it felt like it was all finally going to make him implode, sink into the floor under the weight of his mistakes, there was the sound of running feet followed by a panicked voice that he hadn’t heard in far too long.
“Horacio?” you gasped out as you tried to catch your breath.
His heart stopped for a moment. He almost wished that it had stopped completely, given him a way out of having to look you in the eye after everything that had happened. Prying his eyes from the floor, he looked at you. You were fighting to catch your breath, a sheen of sweat on your forehead either from panic or your mad dash from your car into the hospital, either one was just as likely. The glassy look in your eyes was one that he knew all too well—the look when you’d been crying but were desperately trying not to anymore.
Unable to stand the silence, you spoke up again. “I heard the news, the shoot-out—I panicked.” You swallowed a breath, trying to get yourself right. “What, why…why are you here?” You looked him over. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“That’s, that’s good.” You wrung your hands in front of you. “News made it sound like a fucking bloodbath.” You couldn’t help but to notice the way that he didn’t try to correct you. “I didn’t hear from anyone. Didn’t hear from Diego. Did you,” you glanced around the waiting area, “did you see him before you came here?”
Carrillo’s frown deepened as he continued to look at you. He knew that he was going to have to tell you. He’d already put you through so much, and now this. He owed you the honesty, being the one to tell you what happened. He knew that, but he just couldn’t force it. How many times was he supposed to break your heart?
He’d never been a chatterbox, but his current silence was making you want to crawl out of your skin. “Horacio, is…is Diego okay?”
He stood up a little straighter, the stoic, professional façade going into place in real time as he geared up to tell you the news. Over the years, with all of the deaths that happened within his ranks, he’d developed a script for the entire scenario. It was just enough to not seem cold, but not so much that it would lead to more of a conversation than he could handle. For all the other widows and families, he was able to rattle it off while barely faltering and letting any real emotion shine through. He knew that it wouldn’t be like that with you, but he was a creature of habit and he felt himself pulling up the same script he used for anyone, even though you were far from being just anyone.
He barely got your name out before you were collapsing against him in tears, all of your worst nightmares coming to life. Carrillo managed to catch you, keeping you from dropping to the floor. You slumped against him, body wracked with sobs as you balled your fists into his blood-stained fatigues. Diego’s blood. He held you, not sure of what to do or say, his whole script completely wiped from his memory. He was no stranger to grieving widows, but this was different. There was no comparison between you and all the others he’d had to deliver such awful news to over the years. There was no comparison between his relationship with those officers and the dynamic he had with Diego. The circumstances of his death versus every other death he’d had to divulge couldn’t have been more different.
“What did you do?” you asked through the sobs.
Carrillo flinched at the question. He knew that you were asking in the vague, cosmic sense. He was the Colonel, Diego’s commanding officer. He said jump, Diego had to say how high. No one, not Diego or anyone else, would’ve been out on those streets raiding those buildings if Carrillo hadn’t told them to do so. The fact that he gave those orders despite his superiors telling him to hold off was salt in the wound that he didn’t want to keep thinking about.
“I’m sorry,” he said, one of the only times he’d ever given you a real apology, one that he actually meant in the moment that he said it.
Finally gathering yourself enough to pull away from him, to support yourself on your own two feet again, you stepped back. Tears were still streaming down your face, your bottom lip quivering as you asked, “What happened?”
“Not here,” he tried to stall.
Your jaw clenched, a hardness creeping into your voice at his attempted dismissal. “Horacio, if you don’t tell me what happened to Diego, I swear to god I will—”
“He was shot,” he cut you off, spitting out whatever words he could bring himself to.
You froze, fresh tears spilling over. “Wh-what?”
“He was shot. He,” Carrillo dropped his gaze to the floor for a moment to give himself a second of reprieve from the broken look on your face, “he died on the table here.”
A choked sob slipped past your lips as you brought your hand up to cover your mouth. You were trying to stifle your cries, not that you were very successful in your attempt. Your legs shook, threatening to give way beneath you. This was always a possibility—you knew that. It was dangerous work. Every day that Diego put on his fatigues and strode out the door he ran the risk of not coming home. Both of you had acknowledged that. Until now, though, it just seemed like a harsh possibility that wouldn’t ever come to fruition. If only.
Forcing yourself to take a few breaths, you looked him in the eyes and said, “You’re going to get whoever did this to him, right?”
His stomach twisted into knots as he said your name, the tone of his voice making it evident that he was trying to calm you down.
You wanted no part of that, though. “Horacio,” your voice shook, “you, you fucking promise me. You promise me that whoever did this, is going to pay for it.”
“It’s not…” his voice trailed off as he tried to figure out how to tell you, “it’s not that simple.”
You sniffled, shaking your head in disbelief. “Seems pretty fucking simple to me.”
He knew that the longer he dragged this out, the worse it was going to be, but he still couldn’t make himself say it. “He wasn’t supposed to di—”
“I know!” you snapped through your tears. “I know he wasn’t supposed to die! You,” you angrily wiped the tears from your face, “you’re supposed to keep your men safe. Where the fuck were you?” It was a low blow, an unfair one, but you didn’t care.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said, not sure where he was going with it.
“What?”
He took a deep breath, not wanting to look at you but knowing he owed you at least that much. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think…I didn’t think it was him.”
Yor blood ran cold as you tried to register what he was telling you. “Wh…what are you saying?”
Horacio had put you through the wringer so many times, more than anyone deserved. Back then, he never took the blame for it. According to him, the problem was never his. Ever. He knew what that had done to you but that knowledge hadn’t been enough to make him change. And he lost you over it. You, Diego, nothing about the situation at hand would be the way it was if he had just managed to get himself right all that time ago.
But he didn’t. Now here he was again, having to place another unbearable weight on your shoulders. Another problem that was his, but you were going to be left to deal with it all on your own.
The anger on your face was something that he hadn’t seen before, something that was almost outweighing the sadness but not quite. He didn’t know how he was supposed to tell you, but from the look on your face he had a feeling that you already knew. You just wanted to hear him say it.
“I…” he trailed off, unable to be pragmatic about it the way that he had been when he was talking to his men on-scene. He couldn’t admit it to you.
Your body started to shake as the reality of it all came crashing down on you. You looked at the lost expression on Carrillo’s face, a look you hadn’t ever seen before. Regret. Something that until this moment, you weren’t sure he was truly capable of feeling. Then you saw the blood on his clothes and looked down, seeing the way that some of it had rubbed off onto yours. The realization of whose blood it was slammed into you, fist to sternum.
You sputtered, attempting to get something, anything out. “How…why…” You shook your head as your tears started to flow again. “How did this happen? Why, why did you do this?”
He deserved your accusatory tone, but it still stung and caused him to flinch. “It was a fucking mess out there,” he spoke quietly, but firmly.
You shook your head, not wanting to hear it if it was going to sound like an excuse. “Don’t,” you forced out past a sob.
He knew that he was the last person on the planet that you wanted comfort from, and truthfully he didn’t even know if he knew how to give you any, but he still wanted to. If there was any way to make this better, he’d do it.
“We all—”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” you spat, knowing the spiel he was about to try and dive into. Diego wasn’t just any officer, and you weren’t just any grieving spouse. If anyone knew that, it was Carrillo. You didn’t want to hear him give you the lines about what Diego knew he signed on for. You knew that he hadn’t signed on for this.
He could feel the anger rolling off of you, and despite knowing he deserved it, he still couldn’t help but to want to quell the feelings rolling through you. Stepping in closer to you, he reached out like he was moving to try and comfort you, “Let me—”
You stook a sharp step back, shaking your head as you did. “Get away from me.”
You hardly registered him saying your name in a clear attempt to try and get you to calm down but you weren’t having any of that. With every step that he took towards you, you took an equally large step back to keep the distance. You were choked up with far too many thoughts and feelings to try and listen to him rationalize the situation away, and far too disgusted with him to try and accept whatever menial comfort he could provide no matter what the circumstances were.
Still, he tried. “Please,” he stayed put, realizing that you weren’t going to allow him to come any closer to you, “let me help.”
Despite the quiver in your voice, your tone was cold as you spoke. “You’ve done enough, Colonel.”
You shook your head, wiping at the tears on your face as you tried to figure out who you were supposed to be talking to next, what the next steps even were. Doctors. Phone calls. Diego’s family. Too many heavy items on the list to try and check off but you didn’t have any choice in the matter now.
Taking another step back, you said, “I’ll let you clean up the rest of your mess.”
He went to try and stop you, to try and say something that would make you pause in your tracks, but you’d already turned around and taken off. He watched as you all but ran across the floor of the hospital in search of someone who could actually help you. Carrillo was helpless to do anything but stand there and watch you, both of you left alone through no fault of yours, all of the blame resting square on his shoulders yet again. The loss this time so much more than either of you could ever imagine.
He remained glued to his spot as he watched you disappear around the corner of the hall with a doctor who was being much more comforting than he could ever hope to be. His head dropped, chin tucking to his chest as he tried to ward off all of the regret that was starting to bubble over. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to tune out all of the chaos and noise of the hospital. But even so, all he could hear in the back of his mind were gunshots and screams, sounds he wasn’t going to be able to shake for a long time to come.
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peapod20001 · 2 years
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I love it when I have ocs <3
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astererer · 8 months
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Other new OC lol
Met Shoko at a rave around 10 years ago and started hanging out with her and Vern. When his old flat mates moved out he offered them the vacant rooms and they agreed to move in with him.
Diego’s a bit mysterious. He has a strong Hammerlocke accent but his name implies he might be Paldean. However, he claims to have never set foot in the region in his life, nor does he have Paldean family. It might not be his real name at all, though it’s all Vern and Shoko know him as. They aren’t too sure what they do know about him, really.
His pokemon are also a bit of a mystery, since none of them are native to Galar and when asked about how he got them the stories always change.
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itsberru · 1 month
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More about Diego's new outfit 💙
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