#adiosnachito

[cartelheir]

she stands out in this place, like a drawing that's too different of a texture to mix with its surroundings. black dress, high heels, shiny golden jewelry that makes the place around her look even more lived-in. maybe another sign that she shouldn't be here at all. there's too much that could go wrong ━━ if navarro finds out, if anyone at mazatlán so much as suspects she's been here, if lalo takes offense in this impromptu meeting for some reason; she's pretty much dead. she has information as leverage, but not much more than that.

she pushes the worries out of her mind, looks more confident than she feels as she takes a seat at one of the available tables. she doesn't order anything, only sits and waits to be noticed, ignoring the cashier's confused stare and listening as lalo hums a tune from the kitchen.

ft. @adiosnachito

[bulldoged]

she knows this routine well enough to understand that all she has to do is sit and wait. el michoacano, like the other times, is empty save for the owner in the back. her grip on the side of her chair is so tight that it turns her knuckles white, the other hand tightened around a wad of cash in the pocket of her hoodie. her leg bounces at a rapid pace, until she hears the familiar sound of the entrance cracking open behind her. jade��s head whips around, and once her eyes focus on the stranger, confusion sets in. this wasn’t nacho — though at least it’s not tuco. this was someone new, and he was alone. had leadership traded hands that fast? a swell of nerves comes on so fast and she becomes nauseous, but does her best to greet him with a blank face. this is the drug business, she tells herself, changes happen all the time, i’m sure.

@adiosnachito “do you mind if i sit?”

she shakes her head, bottom lip curling upward to form a frown. “ i’ve um… ” she clears her throat, sitting up a little straighter, “ i’ve never seen you before. are you filling in, or ? ”

[slash-aaa]

'just wanted you to know it's been taken care of,' @adiosnachito.

[withsunlight]

photographing parties wasn’t necessarily in her wheelhouse anymore — she’d been under the impression ( incorrectly ) that she’d paid her dues during college, spending her weekends following brides around wedding venues for extra money and free prime rib. but since leaving new york city and moving westward, a phrase she’d heard her father say time and time again ( and never really reflected on ) began to ring true; a job’s a job. and if spending her saturday night watching others have a good time meant her rent was taken care of for the next month, so be it.

at least this party looked interesting, if not a little eccentric --- the theme alone had been enough of a reason to accept the offer; it wasn’t very often ( or never before in her personal experience ) that someone wanted the theme of their get together to be around a city that was within driving distance of where they currently were. ( not that a party centered on albuquerque sounded any less unconventional. )

and that someone was taking his party very seriously ---- she’d had a hell of a time catching him as he hovered around the caterers.

“i’m ready to set up wherever you’d like me to,” a suggestion offered with a professionally pleasant smile; the last thing she wanted was to be added onto his list of stressors for the evening. “and i brought my portfolio like you asked. we can go over it later if you like.”

@adiosnachito 🩷 sc.

[toprayarc]

in the after-hours of the skies, vacancies run rampant. the empty spaces of the world hollow out. the sun swallows itself whole, fragments into speckled pieces, and scatters slivers of stars, elsewhere. masks, illusions, and metaphorical personas, are no different. at night, the monsters come out to play— creeping along horizon lines, back doors, beckoning a black abyss to their advantage. mari, along with all else, finds no harm in playing eagerly to someone else's foul. finds no issue, with the complexities of a two sided coin. come morning, she'll transfix herself anew; translate her tarred tongue to something sweet ... but, for now, lalo gets nothing but sour.

"take it easy, i can’t hardly walk today." — @adiosnachito.

"you hurt?" a slow drift of a stare moves from head to toe, masked features melting away any hint of concern. (a partner in crime is convenient, sure, but not if they're crumbling at the edges: and mari has no room for liabilities.) "—because if y — you're going to be limping around for the rest of tonight, i'm not pulling shit with you." a twirl of a lighter flips through her palm, and then flicks. the flame rises, and then dissipates in a second, as her legs swing over the side of an armchair, near lazy, with her movements. a tilt of her head. "unless you're going to p — play it to your advantage, but a piece of advice? ... playing pathetic isn't always as fun as you think it'll be."

[steavia]

lydia visibly startles when the debris of dropped groceries flies in her direction. "oh, my god!" the reaction is instantaneous - a flinch, a wince, and a little stagger backwards. after a short but stressful work day, this is NOT what madrigal's head of logistics needs. & yet, this man ... he's apologetic, asking a question out of concern. thank goodness that the neighbor is not impolite about his blunder, otherwise lydia might further toe the line of panic.

"it's... it's fine, thank you," she stammers out, an awkward little laugh that teeters on sounding much too squeaky. "it's nothing that a good dry cleaning can't fix, i suppose..." by god, she's not good with people, but she forces down the creeping anxiety by stepping forward. being a good neighbor is a first step to fitting in, appearing functional in the greater eyes of society. the smile she offers is admittedly rather meager, but one can't say she isn't trying when she asks the stranger, "do you - do you want some help with that, maybe? that looks like an awful mess to deal with alone." ( she can't be sure she's seen him before, but lydia never paid much mind to her neighbors, for better or for worse. )

FOR LYDIA , @steavia.

⠀⠀three keys,⠀three labels. they don't unlock anything,⠀and they never will. but lalo doesn't need physical access. it is the mind that he is after. his family's legacy,⠀⠀SALAMANCA MONEY & SALAMANCA BLOOD,⠀it walks a tightrope against gustavo fring's secret plans. with the werner ziegler trail dead and buried,⠀quite literally,⠀lalo is quick on his feet to find another angle.⠀⠀what was that chicken man up to?⠀⠀lydia rodarte-quayle,⠀she knew.

⠀⠀he jingles the keys,⠀reaching into his car and pulling out two heavy loads of groceries. she walks by,⠀precisely when lalo had expected her to,⠀and the game begins. he puts on a show of struggle for a few seconds,⠀balancing the items in his grip,⠀before both loads come crashing to the floor. glass shatters,⠀milk runs down the cracks of the curb. ‘¡dios mío!’ lalo utters to himself. lydia is just a metre ahead,⠀a debris field of groceries surrounding her,⠀‘i am so sorry,⠀did anything hit you?’⠀⠀question is,⠀did she buy it?

[adiosnachito]

CONT. FROM HERE , @cannib4l.

⠀⠀light seeps through in small cracks,⠀just enough to illuminate a slither of lalo's face as he walks through the cellar. despite rafael's two week ordeal,⠀lalo is in no rush.⠀⠀he hardly ever is.⠀⠀‘really?’ lalo laughs a little,⠀flattered that he might be worth the hastle,⠀‘maybe i just didn't get the invitation, eh?’ fumbling in his pocket for a flashlight,⠀he nears rafael & sighs deeply. ‘mano, mano. no tienes que disculparte. is over, no? lalo is here.’ he's laughing again.

⠀⠀the flashlight is now on & clamped between his teeth. lalo gets to work on the zip ties,⠀‘this place is muuuucho bigger than i thought. but the guards, like a gato durmiendo.’ the light conversation of lalo salamanca contrasts heavily with the situation in hand. but it's okay,⠀he has it under control. rafael is finally freed and lalo aids him to a standing position,⠀his legs quite possibly dead from all the sitting. ‘let's get you home, eh raffy?’

[cartelheir]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘?

the antihero

ah yes, hello edge lord. it is lovely to see you again. you my dear, are the incarnation of duality, and you might think of claws and venom mixed with grace but alas, nothing near as poetic. you my friend, are mixture of what is seen as right, and what is questioned. you follow the path of your own two feet, you know the twists and turns of life's forests quite well if I do say so myself. and you can meander along them wonderfully. you strive to stay true to a certain sense of principles you might call your code, but whereas in reality, those would be your morals. people tend to see you as strange. sharp edged and glinting you hide behind a cloak of chain mail but really you just prefer to show off your imperfections first. unlike many who scramble to make it as if their flaws never existed, you proudly raise yours up. saying, "this is me, this is the worst of me, now you know what to expect." and might I say, it is quite an intriguing mindset, for truth be told, the ones that love your spikes and craters are the ones who appreciate your softness the most. you wish not to be loved as something lovable, but as a monster. for aren't we all just beasts in human skin? you are brave, but you are lonely. you know quite well how to scare off most, making even the heroes with the boldest bravado creep away with their tails between their legs. you are not a villian, sometimes you play the part a bit too well. but nevertheless you are no hero either. you put yourself first, but if one wins your trust then may the gods have mercy on those who might wrong them.

you long to be a poetic mess of sorts, and well, if the ink sets in long enough you might just become that sooner or later. but for one who is so dead set on truth you sure do hide a lot don't you? please, step out of the shadows, there is a difference to not making your flaws visible and to simply acting as if you're the most despicable person in all the realms. it's because you're afraid of attachment is it not? well let me tell you a little secret, everyone is. you say you wish to be left alone for eternity but then why are you craving connection? you wish to be known and understood truly, but you snarl and push the ones that might be trying away. please little wolf, accept you are lovable. you are not some ravenous beast that terrifies the multitudes, sure, you are not for the faint of heart but that does not make you an inkling less perfect as you are. young antihero, step into the sun. you would do better actually reaching for the things you want rather than pining for them in the darkness.

tagged by: @sharpsuite <3 tagging: @urbanoath @adiosnachito @flmed @nguyetvan

[adiosnachito]

FOR LYDIA , @steavia.

⠀⠀three keys,⠀three labels. they don't unlock anything,⠀and they never will. but lalo doesn't need physical access. it is the mind that he is after. his family's legacy,⠀⠀SALAMANCA MONEY & SALAMANCA BLOOD,⠀it walks a tightrope against gustavo fring's secret plans. with the werner ziegler trail dead and buried,⠀quite literally,⠀lalo is quick on his feet to find another angle.⠀⠀what was that chicken man up to?⠀⠀lydia rodarte-quayle,⠀she knew.

⠀⠀he jingles the keys,⠀reaching into his car and pulling out two heavy loads of groceries. she walks by,⠀precisely when lalo had expected her to,⠀and the game begins. he puts on a show of struggle for a few seconds,⠀balancing the items in his grip,⠀before both loads come crashing to the floor. glass shatters,⠀milk runs down the cracks of the curb. ‘¡dios mío!’ lalo utters to himself. lydia is just a metre ahead,⠀a debris field of groceries surrounding her,⠀‘i am so sorry,⠀did anything hit you?’⠀⠀question is,⠀did she buy it?

[adiosnachito]

FOR MARÍA, @crue11.

⠀⠀lalo had never been one to bring business into his home,⠀but he had found himself with little choice.⠀eye for an eye,⠀tooth for a tooth:⠀he had taken arguably the most precious thing in a man's life,⠀⠀HIS WIFE.⠀this was messy business,⠀but it had not been a decision made in the heat of the moment.⠀taking maría had been a tactical move,⠀and one that was bound to pay off.⠀but until then,⠀there was nothing much to do except wait.⠀twenty men surrounded the perimeter,⠀one in front of the bedroom door & one inside where maría slept.⠀lalo himself had not so much as uttered a word to her,⠀not yet.

⠀⠀knuckles rap against the door,⠀a key twisting in the lock.⠀the sound of freedom?⠀not quite.⠀balancing on the palm of his hand,⠀lalo carries a tray of breakfast prepared by his cook yolanda.⠀⠀BREAKFAST FOR TWO.⠀they're going to have a little chat.⠀with his free hand, lalo opens the door and begins to hum a happy tune.⠀she looks neither well or poorly rested,⠀not that lalo particularly cares.⠀for a hostage,⠀what maría has is luxury.⠀his eyes rest upon her⠀&⠀he forges a smile that seems very much genuine,⠀‘¡buenas!⠀—⠀is a comfy bed, no?’⠀lalo sets the tray down on a spare surface,⠀before taking a seat with a satisfied sigh and smiling once again,⠀jovially,⠀at his hostage.

[adiosnachito]

FOR VIKTORYIA, @leagueprem.

⠀⠀the air in mexico is hot,⠀but comfortable at first.⠀the sun is a welcome sight in the morning for lalo and vik,⠀roof rolled back as they mosey down unknown roads & look for the next thing. whatever that may be,⠀WHO KNOWS? but by midday, the sun is choking them like a tie that has been tied too tight. lalo sits stock-still, eyes narrowed and unresponsive to the surroundings. the sweat leaks into his brain like a toxin & lalo is suddenly enraged. a burning smell hangs thick in the air as he aggressively slams his foot down into the brake pedal,⠀bringing the car from eighty to zero in a matter of seconds.

⠀⠀‘¡maldita sea mi vida!’ lalo is out of the car now, kicking a can that had probably long lay in the deserted road. WHAT WAS HE DOING? his entire family, his entire life: it wasn't here. lalo had once been something great, and now he was nobody. not even that, he was someone on the run. lalo never ran, people ran from lalo. of course, this was the heat talking. and even the empty stomach. vik was used to it by now, but it never got better. he was a man who simultaneously loved & hated his life.

[bulldoged]

she  expects  the  bosses  in  this  business  to  be  stern  enforcers.  people  you  don’t  cross.  people  you  never  look  at  sideways.  she  watches  him  laugh  uncomfortably,  unsure  of  herself.  her  youth  is  clear  in  her  body  language,  her  posture  has  fallen  and  she  picks  at  loose  the  skin  on  her  cuticles.  this  is  something  she  can’t  be  blamed  for  –  she’s  barely  cracking  twenty  years  old,  after  all.  but  that’s  what’s  helped  her  out  in  this  business  so  far.  most  people  trust  a  young  and  innocent  looking  girl.  so,  when  she  pushes  her  way  into  your  friend  group  and  then  your  college  party,  with  some  persuasion  you’ll  pay  top  dollar  for  what  she  says  is  a  top-tier  way  to  start  the  party.  and  then  the  wad  of  cash  that  lalo  is  tucking  away  accumulates  easily  enough.  

when  he  finishes  talking,  she  decides  to  follow  his  lead.  it’s  all  she  can  do.  her  eyes  become  alight  at  the  idea  of  intoxication,  which  is  becoming  a  better  and  better  friend  to  her  by  the  day.  she  prefers  drugs  to  alcohol  these  days,  but  she’d  never  deny  the  offer.  although  she  knows  it’s  anything  but  smart  to  get  drunk  in  front  of  your  employer,  he  is  offering  isn’t  he?  she  nods,  “  i’ve  been  known  to  drink,  from  time  to  time.  ”  she  replies  as  casually  as  she  can,  “  you  got  a  drink  of  choice,  mr.  salamanca?  ”

⠀⠀he eyes the cash that is now sitting upon the table,⠀it looks about right.⠀not that lalo was particularly worried about that,⠀he was sure these people knew their place.⠀though he couldn't say he'd seen many like her in the business.⠀in his head,⠀all lalo could think about was how she could ever push cocaine when she looked like she should be pushing girl scout cookies instead.⠀but,⠀to underestimate is a dangerous game,⠀and not one that lalo was often willing to play.⠀he takes the wad and brushes his index finger across the top,⠀each note slapping against the last.

DON'T YOU JUST LOVE THAT SOUND? lalo is laughing now,⠀the kind of random jovial laugh that doesn't let you know whether you are coming or going.

⠀⠀the young woman blunders her way through her sentences,⠀but lalo doesn't react unfavourably.⠀it is the⠀⠀SALAMANCA EFFECT, and only if she were to remain steady would he be concerned.⠀he stands,⠀tosses the cash back into a container & turns again to face her, ‘don't worry about it, eh?⠀you did good.⠀who am i to waltz in here from méxico and tell you how to do your job, right?’⠀lalo seems sincere here,⠀warm and welcoming.⠀UNDERSTANDING.⠀his face is nothing but smiles.⠀he then points a finger towards her,⠀eyes wide as if the best idea has struck him from the sky above,⠀‘you drink?’

[cartelheir]

carosellita. she resists the urge to frown at the nickname, unsure if it's a jab at her height ━ admittedly, not very impressive, specially when compared to lalo's taller frame ━ or if simply a remark referring to the passage of time. she was a child, after all, last time they'd seen each other; fourteen years old, a bold teenager who'd hang around his younger cousins and thought of herself as basically an adult already. the memories are nostalgic, almost pleasant weren't it for the circumstances surrounding them. she stands up to greet him.

" i take it you remember me. " she looks different than she did at fourteen, for sure, no matter how grown-up she'd try to act around that time. " i'm sorry for showing up unannounced. " pat doubts she would've even gotten a hold of him had she tried to call first; and he must know that any suspicion from her bosses would result in her certain death. " ¿tienes un minuto? "

⠀⠀the el michoacáno is a collision course of the mexican colour palette.⠀but lalo has never been much for glitz.⠀some may call his wardrobe tacky,⠀CARTEL COUTURE,⠀he finds it tasteful.⠀it is definitely not the bling that his cousin tuco drapes himself in⠀⠀—⠀⠀pendejo.⠀this is more lalo's thing,⠀decorated like his mamá's curtains or his abuelita's saucers.⠀warm,⠀homely,⠀built on salamanca blood money.⠀the kitchen is like his own⠀&⠀he makes haste in preparing his recipe for the perfect taco.⠀just another day in paradise. ♫ ‘yo quiero ser [ ... ] ay nada mas’ he begins to sing,⠀dicing his ingredients to the rhythm.

⠀⠀and then he turns to the fryer,⠀his eyes perceiving the unexpected.⠀through the kitchen hatch,⠀⠀PATRICIA CAROSELLA? it had to have been some fifteen years.⠀relations between the two cartels had broken down around the same time.⠀lalo began to battle with a multitude of feelings as their gazes met.⠀betrayal,⠀animosity,⠀even nostalgia.⠀but she came into his domain,⠀and he was going to own it.⠀maybe she had something for him,⠀and if not?⠀she would know not to approach him twice. ‘¡carosellita!’ lalo emerges from the kitchen,⠀wiping his hands on a small towel and throwing it over his shoulder.⠀arms open wide as he approaches because,⠀even amidst blurred lines,⠀she is an old friend.

[slash-aaa]

julian didn't like talking to lalo directly. they'd rather report to someone else and have them bring it to the man in charge. something about the don left jules on edge, though it doesn't tend to show on their normally inscrutable features. knowing what could happen in if they showed weakness - a flinch, a frown, a shudder - julian remains as still as possible, their hands clasped together in front of them, unsure if lalo's question was rhetorical or not, but coming to the conclusion that they probably shouldn't speak until they were sure he was finished. they thought the sounds he made with his teeth would haunt their dreams. jules nonchalantly shifts their weight from one leg to the other. 'anything else you need before i head back?'

⠀⠀lalo is sat leaning back against the chair,⠀eyes narrowed and tempestuous. in this state,⠀he is a wild animal set free and his next move is impossible to calculate. his index finger brushes gently against his mustache.⠀⠀what is he thinking?⠀⠀but before long,⠀lalo swings into being. he drums the table in front of him with a wild smile and lends a short burst of laughter while he's at it. julian had done their due diligence,⠀earning another tick in lalo's book.

⠀⠀‘good’ he replies,⠀leaning back once more. for a moment,⠀his eyes are closed. as if he is imagining something,⠀something that is amusing to him. ‘because you know what happens if it isn't, eh?’ lalo's eyes open,⠀his mouth replicating the sound of bones snapping. he's laughing again, ⠀he's insane. ⠀‘just playing, cuate.’

[bulldoged]

there’s  no  hiding  it.  her  expression  and  demeanor  are  nothing  short  of  a  deer  in  headlights.  she  knows  she  has  to  learn  how  to  hide  it.  nacho  understanding  just  how  vulnerable  she  is  might  be  one  thing,  but  something  tells  her  that  information  is  nowhere  near  as  safe  with  the  man  who  takes  a  seat  across  from  her.  wide  brown  eyes  stare  back  at  him  for  what  jade  feels  is  an  eternity,  and  she  desperately  wants  to  shred  herself  away  from  his  gaze.  but  she  keeps  her  eyes  level  with  his.  when  he  finally  does  something,  the  action  is  so  abrupt  it  makes  her  jump  in  her  seat.  

she  reaches  out  and  shakes  his  hand  with  an  embarrassingly  light  grip.  ‘lalo  salamanca’.  she  thinks  maybe  she’s  heard  his  name  before,  let  out  by  nacho  in  a  conversation  she  probably  wasn’t  supposed  to  be  listening  to  so  intently.  in  any  case,  the  name  salamanca  evokes  just  the  reaction  lalo  is  looking  for.  her  brows  raise,  lips  parting  slightly.  she  may  be  fresh,  even  a  little  naive,  but  she’s  been  in  it  long  enough  to  understand  what  that  means.  this  is  no  time  to  mess  around.  so,  when  he  asks  for  his  money,  she  doesn’t  hesitate.  she  removes  her  hand  from  her  pocket,  revealing  the  wad  of  cash  and  placing  it  on  the  table  between  them.  

“  s’all  there.  ”  should  she  have  said  that?  she  shakes  her  head  lightly,  don’t  overthink  it.  “  there’s  no  reason  to  think  it’s  not  all  there  –  i’m  just  saying,  you  can  trust  me.  i’m  a  good  earner  and  everything.  and  honest,  too.  ”

⠀⠀back when lalo was in albuquerque,⠀and it had been years,⠀el michoacáno wasn't a thing. not for the salamancas. but there was something about the place that lalo had immediately liked,⠀so much so that he would often kick out the owner to run the place himself. lalo came a lot⠀⠀[⠀silently,⠀unannounced,⠀not to temper but to instil fear,⠀remind the troops of who they called boss⠀]⠀⠀and enjoyed a taco & a modelo. today was no different,⠀except he'd never seen ⠀HER⠀ before. domingo and nacho he saw often,⠀their ratty men in and out of here daily,⠀but not her. ⠀time to introduce himself.

ARE YOU FILLING IN, OR?⠀⠀lalo leans back into the chair,⠀his face alight with amusement. ‘eh,⠀something like that’ he responds,⠀his eyes not letting up on hers⠀—⠀not even for a second.

⠀⠀silence continues to sit between the two of them,⠀thick and visible,⠀until finally broken up by a sharp drumming of the table with his hands. ‘lalo’ he smiles,⠀outstretching a hand,⠀‘lalo salamanca.’ the surname drips from his tongue like honey,⠀his favourite word to say just for the reaction. he can thank his tio for that. ‘you got some money for me?’ lalo rubs his hands together,⠀looking expectantly at the woman.

[adiosnachito]

⠀⠀it wasn't often that julian and lalo came face to face.⠀he wasn't like his uncle,⠀nor tuco⠀—⠀he didn't intimidate via aloofness or violence.⠀instead he opted for close contact,⠀personal attention⠀&⠀getting to know each pusher.⠀like a mole,⠀lalo could pick up on a bad scent this way. ‘you have somewhere to be?’⠀he asks,⠀coming to his feet slowly and reaching for the apron laying on the back of his chair,⠀‘i make the best tacos in all chihuahua.’

⠀⠀lalo's face is alight with amusement as he ties the apron strings.⠀⠀WHAT'S SO FUNNY? but the truth is: nothing. here, doing his job, lalo is the best version of himself. happy & full of life. a smile shaped from others' misery, their blood. ‘you'd be a fool to turn these down, no?’ he jests, winking and clicking his fingers in julian's direction, ‘sit! i got you.’

julian didn't like talking to lalo directly. they'd rather report to someone else and have them bring it to the man in charge. something about the don left jules on edge, though it doesn't tend to show on their normally inscrutable features. knowing what could happen in if they showed weakness - a flinch, a frown, a shudder - julian remains as still as possible, their hands clasped together in front of them, unsure if lalo's question was rhetorical or not, but coming to the conclusion that they probably shouldn't speak until they were sure he was finished. they thought the sounds he made with his teeth would haunt their dreams. jules nonchalantly shifts their weight from one leg to the other. 'anything else you need before i head back?'