Dark Places

Vian Vega | Multifandom OC | Payday 2, BNHA, Pokemon, Incubus, Shapeshifter, and Reservoir Dogs | Age varies upon universe | SHIPS: None | Faceclaim: Jorel Decker | Penned by J-Dog

[desiresblonde]

@goldenvegaboy​ | “You’re coming with me.”

❝  Hey, what are you DOING — ❞

Looks like he needs to step his awareness game up. With a short-lived gasp Vian has him completely off guard the moment he swoops in, sliding Danny off his own feet. A scowl quickly writes itself across his own features with unhappiness regarding the situation unfolding.

❝  I’ll give you two minutes to explain yourself, an’ it better be fuckin’ good. ❞

[goldenvegaboy]

“Pickin’ you up.”

He says it with such calm nonchalance. Their heist had gone well, and Vian was in a pretty good mood. He holds Danny against him. Maybe he’s showing off, maybe he’s not. He isn’t admitting anything.

“Ya looked a little tired. Thought I’d offer the prince some assistance.”

[goldenvegaboy]

“I'm five foot something, and I'm royalty. Short king, mama ay.”

[desiresblonde]

goldenvegaboy‌:

His brow raises and he can’t help but let out a slight chuckle. It’s a good-natured, dorky sound. In all his time with the Gang, he’s not sure he’s ever seen Danny drink. But, then again, he doesn’t know him all too well.

With an expert’s hand be begins his mixing, humming something under his breath.

“Shouldn’t give me all that power, sug. I’m what my sister calls a “self-learned expert” with alcohol. I personally think she just means learned alcoholic.”

❝ I know what I need, hon. None of us are goin’ to live forever no matter how much we want to — ❞

His eyes are on the same level as Vian’s, his hands resting flat against the bar’s counter. His tone is almost harsh but that was just his overall personality — a little cold on the outside, but warm once you opened up to him a lot more.

❝ — so a guy should be able to enjoy his bloody drink whenever the fuck he wants. ❞

[goldenvegaboy]

“Oh, trust me, I don’t plan on it.”

Could that be taken as an incredibly depressing statement, or agreement? Knowing Vian, probably both. He’s a generally gentle beast, though when hes heisting or drunk he almost goes berserk. Fitting for his role.

“Calm, cher, calm. I ain’t judging.”

[vicecityspeedfreak]

@goldenvegaboy

“You Vian? I followed some weird rabbit hole about some pool repair and, well, it got me here.”

[goldenvegaboy]

“Huh?? Oh–Yeah, I’m Vian. Vian Vega. Guess you met Bodhi then.” 

It’s clear he’s not used to people actually saying hisactual name. Vian’s used to his heister name.

[vicecityspeedfreak]

“Right, yeah, he connected the dots…”

The young man pushed his aluminum aviators off of his nose and shifted so his fringe bangs fell over one lens.

“I’m sorry. He didn’t give your name directly, but you know… I followed pieces here and there.”

He was no older than 21; young, fresh-faced, dressed like he just walked off the set of an episode of Miami Vice.

“Teller,” he said, “Greyson Teller.”

[goldenvegaboy]

“Bodhi’s, uh….real special.”

Not that he was shit talking his fellow “coworker” or anything, but it’s obviously Bodhi’s a little more eccentric than he’s used to.

“Don’t worry about it. My family’s kinda notorious. My brother was a hitman, my other brother worked with a crime boss, and my twin’s a heister with me.”

He held out his hand, arm covered in various tattoos. When he spoke, one could catch a glimpse of gold covering his canines. 

“Nice to meet you.”

[vicecityspeedfreak]

Greyson smiled a little, but not much. His sunglasses caught a ray of sun and shot a rainbow off the reflective lenses. The ray carried off of the silver Rolex watch on his wrist. Luckily, he wore it on his left wrist, so he didn’t risk blinding him when he shook his hand.

“No problem with notoriety, sir. I… well, used to run a pretty big business out west… I guess I’m on… administrative leave right now.”

“He’s… a bit of a character, our friend, is he not?”

[goldenvegaboy]

Vian’s personality didn’t seem to be that of a heister. He was mild-mannered, sweet, almost shy. But when he got into that frame of mind, that almost berserker state heisting, it was like a different person. But it wasn’t who he truly was.

“Don’t need to call me sir–Reminds me of Leroy. I get you. I used to own a bar before I joined up with my old crew, and now the Payday Gang.”

“Oh yeah, big time.”

[vicecityspeedfreak]

A quick look over either shoulder brought a more noticeable smile to his face.

“Taylor Gang Originals,” he said with the ghost of pride hanging around his words.

Greyson was very thin: a steady diet of maybe-a-little-higher-than pharmaceutical grade amphetamine caused the pounds to fall off with regularity. Still, he was very pretty.

“I… I drive for the most part now. I can do anything, you know, but I make art behind the wheel.”

[goldenvegaboy]

He couldn’t help but grin at his pride. He knew that feeling well, having something you’re proud of. 

“I used to work with Joe Cabot back in LA, if you ever knew him.”

Vian’s build was muscular. Not overly so, but enough to let people know he was a force to be reckoned with. His accent indicated he wasn’t from the area, much less LA. It almost sounded Cajun.

“My twin used to be the getaway driver for the Cabots. She’s…kinda scary. Not as scary as Vic was. Real big pride in her caddy.”

[vicecityspeedfreak]

Greyson recognized the accent and smiled. He lapsed a bit into his “north-of-Vice-City-west-of-nowhere” normal intonation.

“I might have heard of Cabot’s. The… what was it… jewelry store?” he asked with a tip of the hand, “I think they closed up before we were running numbers. But I have heard of them.”

Greyson had stumbled into money very quickly upon his arrival out west, but he was very smart with his money: he drew a fine line between “business expenditures” and “shopping.” He had a penthouse apartment, but it was at the end of a hallway with an elevator that only went up to his floor with a keycard. He had saferooms in the apartment and the building’s ten car garage.

He looked over his shoulder at the Oceanic, a car somewhere between a 50’s GM and an early 60’s Dodge. It was his pride and joy, but never something he would use for work.

“I can respect that.”

[goldenvegaboy]

His accent was noticeable, but not too heavy. His sister’s was always heavier. Maybe Vian just tried to hide it more.

“Diamond store, yeah.” It was a job gone bad, thanks to that rat Newandyke. The bastard that killed his brother. “Went bad. We had a rat. A damn cop. Weren’t for him, we would’a been clean outta there.”

The loss of both his brothers had turned Vian into somewhat of an alcoholic. It never really affected his relationships with people, or his ability to play bills, but he always seemed to have a drink on hand. His apartment was littered with them. His sister tried to get him to quit but it was no use. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

His sour expression quickly faded, a smile replacing it. Ah, Vian loved watching Viv fuss over her car. Wouldn’t even let him touch it. 

“She used t’race a bunch. Motorcross.”

[goldenvegaboy]

“Psst.

Wanna pet my cat?”

[goldenvegaboy]

[starter for @burniingchaos]

He’s just whistling to himself, mixing some sort of drink behind the bar. Bob’s not there, so he’s filling in. Jimmy’s completely passed out as expected. He doesn’t even need to look up to know someone else had taken a stool next to the passed out coke addict.

Is working the bar the best place for a borderline alcoholic? Probably not. But Vian’s never been one for rules.

“What can I get ya?”

[desiresblonde]

He’s not really the one to drink — usually it’s the energy drinks & caffeine that keeps him flowing, despite how unhealthy it was for the heart. You had only one life though, so it just depended on how you lived it through its fullest, right?

But he’s feeling lucky. He’d had a great day & he’s taking that as an opportunity to treat himself.

❝ What’s the most bizarre combination yuh’ can come up with? I came ‘ere for a good time so I’m expectin’ a heart attack tuh’ come outta this. ❞

[goldenvegaboy]

His brow raises and he can’t help but let out a slight chuckle. It’s a good-natured, dorky sound. In all his time with the Gang, he’s not sure he’s ever seen Danny drink. But, then again, he doesn’t know him all too well.

With an expert’s hand be begins his mixing, humming something under his breath.

“Shouldn’t give me all that power, sug. I’m what my sister calls a “self-learned expert” with alcohol. I personally think she just means learned alcoholic.”

[goldenvegaboy]

[starter for @burniingchaos]

He’s just whistling to himself, mixing some sort of drink behind the bar. Bob’s not there, so he’s filling in. Jimmy’s completely passed out as expected. He doesn’t even need to look up to know someone else had taken a stool next to the passed out coke addict.

Is working the bar the best place for a borderline alcoholic? Probably not. But Vian’s never been one for rules.

“What can I get ya?”

[goldenvegaboy]

[Sticks out leg. Who wants a starter? Specify, babs.]

[goldenvegaboy]

“What up. I’m Vian, I’m 28, and my life is crumbling apart as we speak.”

[sokolhaslanded]

[vicecityspeedfreak]

@goldenvegaboy

“You Vian? I followed some weird rabbit hole about some pool repair and, well, it got me here.”

[goldenvegaboy]

“Huh?? Oh–Yeah, I’m Vian. Vian Vega. Guess you met Bodhi then.” 

It’s clear he’s not used to people actually saying hisactual name. Vian’s used to his heister name.

[vicecityspeedfreak]

“Right, yeah, he connected the dots…”

The young man pushed his aluminum aviators off of his nose and shifted so his fringe bangs fell over one lens.

“I’m sorry. He didn’t give your name directly, but you know… I followed pieces here and there.”

He was no older than 21; young, fresh-faced, dressed like he just walked off the set of an episode of Miami Vice.

“Teller,” he said, “Greyson Teller.”

[goldenvegaboy]

“Bodhi’s, uh….real special.”

Not that he was shit talking his fellow “coworker” or anything, but it’s obviously Bodhi’s a little more eccentric than he’s used to.

“Don’t worry about it. My family’s kinda notorious. My brother was a hitman, my other brother worked with a crime boss, and my twin’s a heister with me.”

He held out his hand, arm covered in various tattoos. When he spoke, one could catch a glimpse of gold covering his canines. 

“Nice to meet you.”

[vicecityspeedfreak]

Greyson smiled a little, but not much. His sunglasses caught a ray of sun and shot a rainbow off the reflective lenses. The ray carried off of the silver Rolex watch on his wrist. Luckily, he wore it on his left wrist, so he didn’t risk blinding him when he shook his hand.

“No problem with notoriety, sir. I… well, used to run a pretty big business out west… I guess I’m on… administrative leave right now.”

“He’s… a bit of a character, our friend, is he not?”

[goldenvegaboy]

Vian’s personality didn’t seem to be that of a heister. He was mild-mannered, sweet, almost shy. But when he got into that frame of mind, that almost berserker state heisting, it was like a different person. But it wasn’t who he truly was.

“Don’t need to call me sir–Reminds me of Leroy. I get you. I used to own a bar before I joined up with my old crew, and now the Payday Gang.”

“Oh yeah, big time.”

[vicecityspeedfreak]

A quick look over either shoulder brought a more noticeable smile to his face.

“Taylor Gang Originals,” he said with the ghost of pride hanging around his words.

Greyson was very thin: a steady diet of maybe-a-little-higher-than pharmaceutical grade amphetamine caused the pounds to fall off with regularity. Still, he was very pretty.

“I… I drive for the most part now. I can do anything, you know, but I make art behind the wheel.”

[goldenvegaboy]

He couldn’t help but grin at his pride. He knew that feeling well, having something you’re proud of. 

“I used to work with Joe Cabot back in LA, if you ever knew him.”

Vian’s build was muscular. Not overly so, but enough to let people know he was a force to be reckoned with. His accent indicated he wasn’t from the area, much less LA. It almost sounded Cajun.

“My twin used to be the getaway driver for the Cabots. She’s...kinda scary. Not as scary as Vic was. Real big pride in her caddy.”

[goldenvegaboy]

[vicecityspeedfreak]

@goldenvegaboy

“You Vian? I followed some weird rabbit hole about some pool repair and, well, it got me here.”

[goldenvegaboy]

“Huh?? Oh–Yeah, I’m Vian. Vian Vega. Guess you met Bodhi then.” 

It’s clear he’s not used to people actually saying hisactual name. Vian’s used to his heister name.

[vicecityspeedfreak]

“Right, yeah, he connected the dots…”

The young man pushed his aluminum aviators off of his nose and shifted so his fringe bangs fell over one lens.

“I’m sorry. He didn’t give your name directly, but you know… I followed pieces here and there.”

He was no older than 21; young, fresh-faced, dressed like he just walked off the set of an episode of Miami Vice.

“Teller,” he said, “Greyson Teller.”

[goldenvegaboy]

“Bodhi’s, uh….real special.”

Not that he was shit talking his fellow “coworker” or anything, but it’s obviously Bodhi’s a little more eccentric than he’s used to.

“Don’t worry about it. My family’s kinda notorious. My brother was a hitman, my other brother worked with a crime boss, and my twin’s a heister with me.”

He held out his hand, arm covered in various tattoos. When he spoke, one could catch a glimpse of gold covering his canines. 

“Nice to meet you.”

[vicecityspeedfreak]

Greyson smiled a little, but not much. His sunglasses caught a ray of sun and shot a rainbow off the reflective lenses. The ray carried off of the silver Rolex watch on his wrist. Luckily, he wore it on his left wrist, so he didn’t risk blinding him when he shook his hand.

“No problem with notoriety, sir. I… well, used to run a pretty big business out west… I guess I’m on… administrative leave right now.”

“He’s… a bit of a character, our friend, is he not?”

[goldenvegaboy]

Vian’s personality didn’t seem to be that of a heister. He was mild-mannered, sweet, almost shy. But when he got into that frame of mind, that almost berserker state heisting, it was like a different person. But it wasn’t who he truly was.

“Don’t need to call me sir--Reminds me of Leroy. I get you. I used to own a bar before I joined up with my old crew, and now the Payday Gang.”

“Oh yeah, big time.”

[vicecityspeedfreak]

@goldenvegaboy

“You Vian? I followed some weird rabbit hole about some pool repair and, well, it got me here.”

[goldenvegaboy]

“Huh?? Oh–Yeah, I’m Vian. Vian Vega. Guess you met Bodhi then.” 

It’s clear he’s not used to people actually saying hisactual name. Vian’s used to his heister name.

[vicecityspeedfreak]

“Right, yeah, he connected the dots…”

The young man pushed his aluminum aviators off of his nose and shifted so his fringe bangs fell over one lens.

“I’m sorry. He didn’t give your name directly, but you know… I followed pieces here and there.”

He was no older than 21; young, fresh-faced, dressed like he just walked off the set of an episode of Miami Vice.

“Teller,” he said, “Greyson Teller.”

[goldenvegaboy]

“Bodhi’s, uh....real special.”

Not that he was shit talking his fellow “coworker” or anything, but it’s obviously Bodhi’s a little more eccentric than he’s used to.

“Don’t worry about it. My family’s kinda notorious. My brother was a hitman, my other brother worked with a crime boss, and my twin’s a heister with me.”

He held out his hand, arm covered in various tattoos. When he spoke, one could catch a glimpse of gold covering his canines. 

“Nice to meet you.”

[vicecityspeedfreak]

@goldenvegaboy

“You Vian? I followed some weird rabbit hole about some pool repair and, well, it got me here.”

[goldenvegaboy]

“Huh?? Oh--Yeah, I’m Vian. Vian Vega. Guess you met Bodhi then.” 

It’s clear he’s not used to people actually saying hisactual name. Vian’s used to his heister name.

[memeasaurus-promptus]

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[saintsflowed]

{ god im tired of feeling like im just waltzing in where i dont belong but everyone’s too nice to tell me to back off }

[goldenvegaboy]

[squints]