#i need to look at los santos with that in mind

[arthur-kilgore]

I have a lot of thoughts about the GTA VI trailer and idk where to put them bc I didn’t like GTA V enough to really engage in fandom but I also want to avoid any more speculation or leaks about the game bc I want to go in as blind as possible when get to play it two years from now (help lol). Most of my comparison points are based off of the red dead franchise bc I’ve only played GTA V out of all of those games BUT

I am (perhaps naïvely) optimistic that the story will be more emotionally meaningful than GTA V’s was, and a lot of that stems from the first trailer centering Lucia. Rockstar’s first female protagonist!! And what little we’ve seen about her shows a lot of potential for her to be well developed just as John and Arthur were (not that the GTA V protags weren’t well developed, but none of them resonated with me on a personal level the way so many RDR characters did and do to this day)

From the short glimpse we’ve seen, we know Lucia is someone who’s made mistakes due to her circumstances and has the potential to be a multifaceted character. We know she has a partner that she loves (James?), and we know that their relationship is a central component of this game - similar to red dead’s honor system - assuming that the leaks about that are correct. If we can assume that decisions around their relationship will be central to the plot’s direction and will affect the overall outcome of the story, I am so, so excited to see that in action because there is MASSIVE potential for that story to be exciting and emotionally compelling all at once.

The other thing that really excites me about this game is that it seems like they’ve really leaned into the realism and building an amazing open world the same way they did for RDR2. I haven’t played the older games with Vice City so I don’t have a frame of reference, but the shots they shared looked GORGEOUS and we know from the RDR2 trailers that we can expect the actual gameplay to look like that. I especially love that we can practically feel the footprint of RDR2’s world beneath it - they are two very different parts of the world and two totally different time periods, but that sky?? That’s the same sky and it’s just as gorgeous as it was in West Elizabeth. There are multiple shots of the Everglades (it reminded me of Bayou Nwa!!), and the ocean, and other wilderness outside of the city and I really strongly hope we get a lot of potential for exploration in those areas. Yes the city is obviously the main stage, but I am hoping for a wide world to explore beyond that (rockstar please let us have a horse in this game i am begging you on my hands and knees)

Like I said GTA V never emotionally resonated with me, and I very nearly didn’t give RDR2 a chance because until playing it I assumed it was “cowboy GTA”, so I’m very intrigued that this game seems to have some essence of what made RDR2 special built into it and I hope that future previews continue to support that. Given that we’re not likely to get another red dead installment (and that even if we did it would be probably 10-15 years away at minimum ough) I’m absolutely dying for something new that can fill that same void that only RDR2 can fill and I’m really hoping that they chose to give the story the attention it deserves with such a promising world to tell it in.

[respectthepetty]

Hello ✨️

Long time i don't enter in tumblr, but asap i came back only one question matters: what BLS are your currently obsession!?

Anon, this is where my slutty personality really shines because I can be obsessed with MANY shows simultaneously, and the current roster of airing BLs is keeping me entertained and satisfied.

But before I get into BLs that are currently airing, let's revisit the ones that just finished, yet are still constantly on my mind, so I'm going through their entire history on Instagram, liking their posts from 2013, and saving screenshots onto my computer:

Laws of Attraction - Building a Shrine level of obsession

I'm always thinking about this cute-ass bitch lawyer.

Jun & Jun - Anonymously Sending Love Notes level of obsession

I need more of my two dads. RIGHT NOW!

Love Class 2 - Scheming with My Friends level of obsession

I didn't know how much I loved it until it was almost gone, and now I'm trying to break it up with its current partner, so it comes back to me.

Now for the currently airing ones:

Kiseki: Dear to Me - Breaking into Its House and Putting Rose Petals on the Bed level of obsession

I can't be normal about this show. It's Taiwanese. It's about a gay mafia. It has younger guys in love with older guys, and those younger guys are ruining their whole lives for their older guys. Throwing away their entire futures for these men. Being trash in public for these men. GOING TO JAIL FOR THESE MEN! I. Love. It!

Dangerous Romance - Getting Its Name Tattooed on My Chest level of obsession

My mutuals hate this show, and I'm glad because it means there are fewer people to fight with for its attention. If more people liked it, I would convince everyone else it sucked, just so they would stop watching it, and I could have it all to myself. That's the level of obsession I have for this show. I want it isolated and alone, just to ensure its dependent on me and can never leave me. Nobody else. Just me. *blinks*

Hidden Agenda - Bunny Stew (aka Fatal Attraction) level of obsession

My obsession with this show is as unhealthy as Joke's obsession with Zo, and homie is OBSESSED with Zo. Joong plays quietly unhinged so well that I want him to play a serial killer because something about Joke's eyes, even when he says he loves Zo, just screams "if I can't have you, nobody will" and I want more of it. In my mind, Joke killed Puen and was *this* close to killing Nita when she smiled at Zo during her party. If Joke's dad says anything about his relationship with Zo in the finale . . . *finger across throat*

Naughty Babe - Recording Us Having Sex Just So I Can Listen to It Later When I Miss It (aka Only Friend's Nick) level of obsession

Indulgent Daddy Yi is my favorite daddy, and Max looks ridiculously attractive in this show. It has color coding and changed the dog attack from Cutie Pie into a TIGER ATTACK! Diao's family is trying to kill him, that new secretary is sus, and Lian and Yi definitely fucked each other in college. How could I not be super duper creepy about this show?

Shadow - Praying to God and all the Santos to Bind Our Souls Together level of obsession

I'm already thinking about the ways I'll have to repent for the sins I'm going to commit when this show comes out. I have waited for.ev.er for this, and I'm getting it for gay Christmas (Halloween). I'm willing to eff with los espookys for this, so I'll be death-gripping my rosary the whole way through, but I'll do anything for gay catholic boys. ANYTHING, including breaking 9 out of the 10 Commandments. Gotta keep the Sabbath holy, though. Even God took a break from being obsessed.

[rreskk]

Fanfic with stimulating submissive Trevor with a toy in public 🥺

Hiiii! It was a struggle trying to find a good setting for a public smut fic so I hope you didn't mind if it was still a stimulating, sub Trevor fic, but minus the publicity. Thank you for this request!

Summary: Trevor was a regular customer at your nightly affairs. Getting to know him, it was easy finding all his weak spots, one of them being vibrators.

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 1650

Trevor was a regular customer at your service. You’ve learnt many things on the course of his weekly visits, one including his current stay at Los Santos. He was a tourist, staying somewhere with a “friend” doing business related work. At first, you thought he was a major businessman considering the money he’d give you were folded in stacks. Then it became obvious that his line of work was more… Immoral, let’s say.

However, it didn’t seem to bother you (as most of the guys were some sort of Government rebels). That didn’t stop you from learning another thing; his fixation on toys, especially vibrators. The first time you went round his, the bedroom was cluttered with dildos and vibrators. You’d ask if he used them on himself and without shame, he admitted it. His roomie, a rather nervous, petite guy, seemed rather disturbed by the series of toys whenever he’d accidentally walk in before you and Trevor could get started. It was clear from the beginning that Trevor was hogging the place for his advantage but in a way, you couldn’t say anything since it was none of your business.

What was your business? Giving him some sort of stress relief, and you must be doing well as he keeps on returning with more requests, and more intimacy. Your sessions have evolved from a quickie to passionate sex. At this point, you didn’t care about the money. The moment he’d be inside you, it was heaven ordered on a golden platter for both your enjoyment.

This session was more… private. Trevor had taken time to talk and understand you more and more when seeing each other. You were sitting on his bed, watching him sluggishly lie down behind you. He had a small sheepish grin on his face before caressing your lower back and softly asking about your day. The conversation went smooth as you both snuggled close together. Trevor had mentioned that Floyd, his roomie, was at work so the whole place was free for you to roam. It was a thoughtful offer (ignoring the creepy tone of his voice when suggesting the type of “freedom” he was giving you), but what else did you expect from a lonely, older guy? Besides, he was oddly handsome as well. At first you thought he was quite… Unique, in a way, but then he somehow caught onto you, like a hook. His brown eyes were so charming and intense. His face, while dirty, was handsomely rugged with them sexy scars.

Trevor had a weakness whenever you’d trace his scars with your wet tongue, crossing each and every single one without fail.

“I wanna see you more than once a week.” He called out from your train of thoughts. His fingers traced the outline of your hips, tucking you closer to his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d be happy to.” You smiled at him.

Trevor was tasteful of your approval and kissed the corner of your mouth before crawling over you, smirking. He then gave you a mysterious look that made you wonder what he was thinking about.

“What’s on your mind?”

His eyebrows perked at your ability to read him so easily. He gave you a sly smile, fluttering his eyelashes like he was trying to prove some sort of innocence.

“What?” You’d ask again.

Suddenly, he’d scowl. It was like you were neglecting his needs. Trevor whined when you couldn’t understand his facial expression. He grumbled something inaudible before rolling to his side, turning his back to you like a grumpy child. You’d sigh and try to question him but, as expected, you receive no answer.

“Trevor.” He snarled when you addressed his name. The tone almost made him crack. There was a small tingle in his stomach when you spoke so motherly, yet sternly. He loved the attention though, so he refused to acknowledge you, hoping to receive some golden treatment.

You were greeted with his muscular back muscles and shoulder blades. Soon enough, his attitudes held no worry. You were too busy focussing on the way his muscles worked whenever he’d move his arms. Slowly licking your eager lips, your fingers itched closer, painfully drawing your name on his lower back.

Trevor shivered at your teasing touch, making him murmur your name. You carried on until your whole palm began to smoothen his rough, tanned skin. It was so simple to make him break. With the sharpness of your nail, you had sent him into a fit of sighs and groans. You didn’t scratch him hard but you weren’t gentle, either.

“Fuck…” He’d lowly growl and attempt to resist your skin, wanting to continue this fun game of playing hard to get. However, he was struggling.

Your hands reached lower until they praised the surface of his ass. You circled your routes, reached for the front where he properly gasped, the tip of your nail trailing towards his exposed penis. Your arms were around him with his back pressed against your breasts and chest. Trevor, in the heat of the moment, moaned out loudly and jerked his hips up, begging for you to take him in hand.

“C’mon!”

“Shhh…”

He refused to listen and panted, “Fuckin’ make me feel good! Now, now!”

“Trevor…” You leaned away from his body and reached for a vibrator, that was previously charging from the nightstand, “You wanna feel good? How good?”

“I just wanna cum so bad, baby.”

“You want it so bad?”

“Oh, just gimme a break and help me!” Trevor protested with an angry face, his pupils expanding with lust.

But you ignored and returned to your position, spooning him. The vibrator in your hand was held close to him (right in front of his cock). He wasn’t able to see this considering your arm, that was wrapped around his chest, blocked the view. He liked to be surprised though – so it was going to be a heavenly rush for him, and for you to watch. It was always great watching a “macho” guy like him crumble like apple crumble.

“I need you to love me!” He continued to cry.

“Easy…”

“Don’t fuckin’ “easy” me, babe. I need you!”

“I know you do,” You’d grin and turn the vibrator on, “I’m helping you.”

His eyes went wide when he heard the buzzing from the toy. He looked down at the tip edging closer to his erection. Excitement bubbled immensely and he nibbled his bottom lip with concentration, loving the way your hand gripped the handle and taking control of what he feels.

“Ohhh…”

“You like that?” Slyly, you asked him as the vibrator skimmed the skin. He gasped and arched his back. You had to contain him like a psychiatric patient. He rocked his body in and out, whining your name with muffled trances of ghostly moans. You hushed him with a comforting arm that hugged his stomach.

“AH! I WANT! – “ Trevor paused to inhaled when the toy finally attacked his cock. With both hands, you held his penis and vibrator, feeling him visibly shake in your palm. The mode was at medium, an easy beginning for him to ingest in the stimulation.

“How much do you want it, Trevor?”

“So… So fuckin’ bad!”

“You want more?”

“Ah! AH! Christ… I’ll do anything! More, fuckin’ more! Gimme, now!” He frustrated with a sensitive shake of his voice.

“That’s a good boy.” You praised and kissed the back of his neck as the vibrator continued to torment his boner.

“I can’t…”

“You can, darling. You got this. It feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“I- I…” Trevor took a deep exhale, “I love you, I LOVE YOU!”

The fake words of affirmation, that you know are a result of overstimulation, dropped from your ears. You let your lips assault his neck until you reached his earlobe, giving it a small tug with your teeth while the toy made him antsy and vulnerable. He grasped your wrist, that held this toy, and tried to control his own pace but you refused and slapped his hand away. The gesture was weakening his ability to hold that “bad guy” face as he’d twitch and flinch every so often.

“Don’t hold it in.” You encouraged, your teeth nibbling his ear still.

“I’m gonna cum, [y/n]… Fuckin’… GOD! You’re my whole world, you’re my fuckin’ girl. My beautiful, sexy… Sexy tits, sexy voice… Hold me! HOLD ME!” His frame shook continuously as he was reaching his climax.

“That’s right.”

“I’M GONNA CUM!” He announced before his penis twitched aggressively then squirting out semen all over the vibrator head and his lower stomach. Trevor cried out your name and held onto your wrists when ejaculating. His eyes were squeezed shut, his legs tangled together due to the overwhelming sensation. He’s never felt an orgasm so wild.

“Good boy…” You kissed the sweat off his forehead.

“OH, fuck! Ah!”

“I bet you feel amazing, don’t you, baby?”

Trevor nodded his head frantically and looked at you with dazed eyes. He was breathlessly and wiped sweat trails from his upper lip.

“I loved it, [y/n]. I love… Oh, Christ… I feel too good, it’s awful…” It was obvious he hasn’t been this relieved in a while. He was unfamiliar with the spark he had experienced.

“You were incredible, Trev.” You smiled.

“Eh… I wanna see you…” He panted, “I wanna see you every day. Every fuckin’ day.”

“I’d be happy to accommodate you every day. My lovely.”

“For me… All mine, all mine, all mine. I’m gonna have you all day long, every day. You ain’t gonna have time for no other turd, ma… You’re mine – I love you, I want you… Hold me?”

You sighed at his submissive whinging and nodded.

“Of course…” You  reached over and began to spoon him again, throwing the vibrator aside.

“So good.” He’d say one last time before leaning into your arms.

[raewritesf1]

Hi Rae! Can we get a little something from "Los santos"? 👀👀

Inspired by the song of the same name by Current Blue

His mind was racing a mile a minute, it felt rather similar to end of a race when he was coming down from that high. His heart was still pumping with adrenaline from the speed of the Valkyrie, fingers still buzzing, mind a bit frantic. He felt a little delirious in that moment.

George was saying something, but he couldn’t hear past his own blood rushing in his ear. His eyes instead fell to George's mouth, watching the way his lips moved as he spoke, the way his tongue slowly ran over his bottom lip.

He wondered for a second if his lip would still taste of the brandy George had drank before they left, and if they would feel as soft as they.

George froze in place, a shape intake of breath was his only reaction before Max’s lips pressed against his.

The kiss was, well, too short to really call a kiss, it was a brief brush of lips more than anything. It was short, awkward a, a stilted, neither

Max blinked and pulled back, terrors thruming through his body. What the actual fuck was he thinking. He'd obviouly let himself get too caught up in whatever this little game, George was playing was. They weren't stangers, they were coworkers, and he shouldn't be going around kissing his male co-workers, especially not mercedes golden boy George Fucking Russell.

"Fuck, I'm sorry." he said, voice thick with emotion. He didn't even want to look at George, see the way his face srunched up in disgust or anger.

He needed to get away from this feeling, from George, and just clear this haze of adrenaline from his mind. He slid off the hood of the car, not really knowing where he was planning to go, or where exactly he’s even driven them. A hand grasped his forearm holding him in place.

“George let go.” He snapped, trying to pull his arm away, but George held firm.

“Max, mate, calm down and just look at me.” George said, gently grasping his hand, George pulled him back, legs parting to accommodate him.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again, not really knowing what else to say.

"Hey, you don't need to apologize," He said, cupping Max’s face and slowly coaxing him to meet his eyes. His voice was soft, as if Max was some small animal that was going to scammper away at the first sign of trouble, which, he thought for a second, was understandable. "I'm not drunk enough that I wouldn't have stopped you from doing something I didn't like."

It took a second for George's words to really sink in. He wasn't drunk enough to not have stopped him from doing something he didn't like. George was sober enough to have stopped Max from kissiing him if he didn't like it. George didn’t stop him from kissing him.

He looked up. George’s eyes started back at him, brimming with concern. The small glow of moonlight was more than enough to illuminate the dusting of red on his cheeks.

Max swallowed, hand shifting till it rested on George's waist. A voice, which sounded an awful lot like his father, reminded him what a bad idea this was. He ignored it, pulling George closer by the waist, and kissed him. Gently, savoring the feel of George’s lips against his.

[nadiazahedah]

this is how it ends

LOCATION: Nadia's home WITH: @antoniojimenez MENTIONED: @roman-han

It had been months since Tony’s birthday, but they still hadn’t talked about the massive elephant in the room. After Nadia had kissed him, things progressed to a point she never believed she would have let them had you spoken to her even a few weeks beforehand, and yet... it felt like what she had always wanted from him: to feel desired, to feel wanted, to feel loved.

And then... nothing. Things went back to what they had been before, seeing each other when they transferred the kids to and from one another.

To say she was confused would be an understatement, but she had done so many years of chasing after him and practically begging him for the bare minimum that she’d determined a long time ago she wouldn’t do that again. If he wanted anything more to develop, he would have to do the work, and if not... then she could finally move on, knowing once and for all she’d made the right decision to prioritize herself and the kids.

When she received a text from him at an odd hour of the night, though, she couldn’t help the flutter in her chest.

“You up? We need to talk.”

Was this it?

She hadn’t been able to sleep anyway, and the kids had gone to bed hours beforehand, so she made her way downstairs and made herself a cup of tea while she waited. Her hands wrapped around a mug of the aromatic tea when she heard the light knocking on the front door. She unlocked the door and opened it, seeing Tony on the other side, looking a little worse for wear. She opened it further and let him in without a greeting, leading him through to the kitchen.

“Is everything okay?” she finally asked, voice soft. She watched him, trying and failing to read his body language to figure out what to expect.

“No, it isn’t,” Antonio answered with a sigh once he entered the kitchen. Drawing in a deep breath, or as deep as he possibly could with the weight of the truth resting squarely on his chest, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. It made him feel sick, really, having to come clean about the sort of double life he’d been leading. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you about… who I am, what sort of stuff I’m involved in… a lot,” he started, falling quiet just to let that marinate for a moment. More than anything, he wished he was here under better circumstances– perhaps circumstances that would allow them to talk about what happened on his birthday and what it could possibly mean moving forward. But…in the last few days, Tony had come to realize there was no ‘forward.’ Not for him, not in this town…and so inevitably, not for them either. 

Nadia could feel her walls building back up the more he spoke. It had taken years for her to finally open herself back up to him in any meaningful way, and there was no doubt in her mind that whatever he was about to say was going to destroy every ounce of goodwill he’d accumulated with her since their divorce. She didn’t speak, though, and allowed him the space to say what he’d come here to say.

“There’s a reason I’m ahead on child support now, and it isn’t from working at the restaurant,” Antonio continued, swallowing thickly. He’d dreaded the mere idea of this moment ever since he’d signed on with Los Santos, and now he was stood here wondering if it would have ever gotten to this point if things hadn’t imploded the way they had. Would he have just carried on, lying to Nadia forever? The coward in him whispered yes, he would have. 

Eyeing her for a moment, he couldn’t help but wonder what this would lead to. She worked for the law, he made his money by breaking it. Would she do her duty, or let him walk? So many questions passed through his mind at a dizzying pace, but he couldn’t linger on them for long. He needed to speak his truth and accept whatever came from it. 

“I’ve been flying again.” He nodded, having seen that as such a good thing for him at the time. It had put him back in the skies– the one place Antonio truly felt at home and at ease. But now…it might as well have been a curse. Clearing his throat, he looked down at the counter, unable to meet Nadia’s gaze as he continued, “For Los Santos… the drug cartel.” 

Nadia froze. She had thought when their marriage had fallen apart and she’d had to leave the career she loved behind that she would never have to experience that kind of pain again – one could only hit rock bottom once, at least in her mind – but she had been so wrong. A small part of her wondered if maybe she had fallen asleep while waiting for him and this was nothing more than a twisted dream, but no, this was real and the look on Antonio’s face said as much.

Growing up in Tonopah Valley, it was hard not to know of Los Santos. They were the boogeymen parents warned their kids about, the ones who had supposedly made the streets unsafe and brought the crime to the area, though Nadia didn’t believe they were the only ones responsible for it, especially with the Sons of Silence across town. Then, being in the department, it was hard not to hear the other officers discussing the newest pick-up of a dealer in Webster Village or see an unfamiliar young woman finding herself in the ER, having her stomach pumped from accidentally ODing on drugs she’d been carrying on her person. What she hadn’t known, though, was how close to home they had gotten – her home.

Not only had she let Antonio back into their lives, but she’d let him back into her bed, and she felt so, so stupid in that moment for ever believing he could change. He had been with their children alone on so many occasions that her mind started to race, imagining them in all kinds of scenarios where they were somewhere they shouldn’t have been or just simply unsafe because of the decisions their father had made and the company he kept.

“What did you just say?” she spoke, her voice steady though she had to clench her fists to keep them from shaking. “You got yourself clean only to fall in bed with a drug cartel?” It took her another few moments of quiet fury to figure out what she wanted to say. It’s not like any of it would make a difference, in the end. “I trusted you, Tony. After everything you’ve put us through. And now this?”

Antonio watched Nadia's expression shift from one of curiosity to genuine shock, and then, to what he could only assume was anger. He didn’t fault her for it. In fact, he knew it was justified, as were his reasons for doing everything he’d done– in his mind, anyway. But when it came to convincing her of that, Tony didn’t imagine that he could. Given her line of work and everything she saw, a lot of it because of Los Santos, it was already clear to him that there wouldn’t be a path forward. And now the ball would be in her court, to see just how far this would go. 

Palming at the back of his neck, he shook his head, a strained sigh leaking past his lips, “I needed money, Nadia,” he pressed, though he didn’t expect that excuse to be satisfactory, even if it was the truth. He’d been behind on child support, behind on rent, and the cartel had given him wings to get ahead of all that, and in his view, to get an opening to be around his children again. “It was a means to an end. I’m sorry.” It felt like a cheap excuse but it was the truth, regardless of how it looked. He’d done what he’d felt he needed to do in order to see his children again and if that made him a monster, then Tony was willing to accept that. 

“If you needed money, then you should have gotten a legitimate job, even if you hated it!” she hissed, though the desire to raise her voice, to shout at him for endangering them all for another quick fix, rose every passing moment. “Why do you think I stopped teaching? It wasn’t because I had a desire to be an officer but because they paid more, and I needed to provide for the family you left behind.”

“Look, it doesn’t affect any of the progress I’ve made, alright? I got my life together, Nadia. I don’t expect you to approve of the way I did it, but I’m clean, all my debts are paid. I did what I needed to do.” And he’d stand by it at the end of the day, because if even only for a little while, it had allowed him to get his life back. It had allowed him to be there for his kids, both financially, and physically– and that was more than he’d ever been able to say before.

Nadia took in a deep, shaky breath, turning away from him and raking her fingers through her hair. She forced her eyes closed, begged the angry tears she could already feel rising to hold off, to wait until he wasn’t there so he couldn’t see how much he still affected her. Her desire to bring their family back together, to finally feel the love that he’d never truly shown her during their marriage, had won out in the end. She had let him return to her life – to their kids’ lives – under the basis of a lie and she’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

“I was never going to let any of it bleed over onto you, or the kids,” he continued, having made that perfectly clear to those around him from the moment he’d agreed to sign on. It was his one condition, and though they’d never been able to outright guarantee him that, they’d still assured him that they’d try to prevent it. “But it’s over now. Los Santos is collapsing and in order to keep that from affecting you, I need to disappear– at least for now.” Tony knew he could’ve gone on and on, explaining everything to her brick by brick, but he didn’t have time, and so he tried to get straight to the point. “I don’t have much time, but I needed you to hear it from me. It’s up to you what you do with it,” whether or not she chose to call it in, that was, or let him walk. He wouldn’t fault her if she couldn’t stomach doing the latter. She worked for the law, and he’d violated it. And if she decided that she couldn’t let him go freely, he wouldn’t resist. “I’ll respect whatever decision you make.”

She didn’t know what she could say to make him realize there had been so many other options he could’ve taken, so many safer alternatives. He fully believed what he’d done had been for the best, and she couldn’t disagree more. She was a fool to believe they could have ever reconciled when they were such fundamentally different people.

She should call it in. She knew that, especially with the conversation she’d had with the leader of the ATF accusing the officers in the department of being complicit in proliferating the gang violence. How would she be able to explain that to Amelia and Aaron, though? They loved their father and were too young; they wouldn’t understand why their mother was the one to have him thrown in prison for who knew how long. And, in spite of all the lies, deceit, and betrayal, Nadia still loved him. She’d still let him in because she desperately wanted to feel loved; she had no one to blame but herself.

He was her weakness.

“Go.” Finally, she broke the silence, voice barely above a whisper. She wrapped her arms around herself in a subconscious need for comfort as she turned towards him. “I won’t call you in, but I don’t want you anywhere near us again. I hope it was worth it to you.”

[gta5blog]

Hi there! Sorry if I'm late but I have some GTA V asks, just in case you'd like to answer some ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

💡🧠❤️🐶

Hello! and no it's quite alright, Sorry for the late response, just been busy lately but I have time now so I'll be more than happy to answer your questions. ❤️

💡What is an easter egg in the game that I find funny or interesting...

The Bigfoot one. I just find it funny how there's a grown man in a suit dressing and running around as the Bigfoot and when he talks to Franklin it's just so funny. Even more funny when it's revealed he's not the real Bigfoot, the real Bigfoot is actually in the woods during the predator mission. I sniped him by accident thinking he was a O'neill brother, only to realise afterwards. But yes the bigfoot easter egg is the one I find funniest.

🧠 What is something I wish the game had more of or had done differently?

Hmmmm hard to say as GTA 5 is such a great game I find it hard to find a flaw in it, but if I had to think of something I would say more map markers, especially when it came to the Strangers and Freaks missions such as the UFO pieces, the bounty hits, Leonora's letters and Abigail's dead husband. So many of the Strangers and Freaks missions didn't have the map markers of the clues marking where they were. I know some people don't mind this and like a challenge, but this really bothered me.

When I play a game, I want to have fun as a form of down time and relaxation, I don't want to get frustrated or stressed having to find the location myself when the game could of marked it out for me like they do in so many other open world games. Even looking at the game guide it is still tricky to find the actual location in the map. That's the only thing they could of done differently was that one in my opinon. Other than that it's a perfect game.

❤️ What is your favourite GTA V ship?

Call me a Crack shipper for this one but it's got to be Tracey and Franklin. I know not many people ship F and Tracey here but outside Tumblr I've seen quite a few fans who have in the world of fanfiction and even fan made edits and videos on Youtube. I don't know something about the idea of Tracey and Franklin dating just appeals to me.

I don't mind other ships though. I'm very chill when it comes to other ships. I'm a Ship and Let Ship person so long as it doesn't involve pedophilia or blood related family members I'm not really going to say anything. You do what you want as long as it makes you happy. My other close favourites in the fandom would be Framar (Franklin/Lamar) and Trikey.

🐶 Do I ever play with Chop when playing as Franklin?

Of course! I love Chop, I always have done. I take him out in the car with me whenever I go out around Los Santos and Sandy Shores, I love him. He's even protected me in game when several construction men started on me around Route 68 (Where the dinosaur diner is). I didn't even need to get my gun out because Chop had already handled them for me (He bit them for me). I also take him on walks with me sometimes and played fetch with him too. So yes I do play with Chop while using Franklin.

Thank you so much for sending in the ask! I really enjoyed answering these Q's too. Sorry for the long essay, but thanks for sending it in. It's never too late to send in an ask. My ask box is always open. I'm more than happy to answer any questions, particuarly when it's about GTA 5 I'm more than happy to do so!

[whoredmode]

some assorted notes from my AU. not too much but just enough where i feel like i should put it under a cut. mostly talking about the idols but a quick mention of los panteros too. these gangs make me so mad there’s so much potential but they just feel so held back��� on the plus side that at least makes trying to rewrite them fairly interesting

to alleviate some of the weirdness of the whole “roommates but in rival gangs” thing between neenah and kevin, i want to frame the idols as more of an actual cult. they definitely operate as a gang, but they would not refer to themselves as such, nor would kevin. neenah definitely sees them as a gang though, so there’s another point of contention.

i get the point is that the idols don’t really know what their actual end goal is after they dismantle everything, but for the cult angle to actually work in a cohesive way, they need, well, an idol. some symbol of idolatry and some semblance of how they want their future to look. i think the idea of shilling something like a product (though obviously they deny that’s what it is and avoid the word “product”) is a decent starting point. there’s a specific line from a member early on where they talk about recruiting new members so THEY can move up a rank, which is just textbook pyramid scheme. and health/wellness cults are something that have definitely come to more prominence in the 2020s, so it’s not completely out of nowhere.

my thinking is this: have them do a sons of samedi where they’ve introduced a new drug on the street. it’s not touted as a drug but it totally is. maybe it’s said to be some cure-all supplement but it obviously has extremely addictive properties which is how it’s able to flourish. this causes friction with panteros who have had their own drug racket going on since the 80s. with that in mind, this is where the anarchy part of the idols comes through: they’re armed to the teeth. anyone trying to get in the way of their future and their cure-all is getting destroyed.

and since i mentioned them. real quick, on the topic of los panteros: sergio was the most nothing antagonist of the whole series. my god. i really went in thinking panteros would be my fave from srr. so i definitely wanna rework them. i would’ve delved into sergio and neenah’s dynamic a lot more. from the sound of it, panteros and sergio are the only type of family she has in santo ileso, and i think you could’ve done something with that. perhaps she’d opened up to him over time, telling him about her family situation and why she wants to fix up her car. and so sergio manipulates her, using those feelings against her for his own benefit. dangling the prospect of fixing up her mom’s car for/with her, knowing how much it meant to her, only for him to eventually destroy it as punishment for working against the gang. make it feel like it has a lot more meaning. something. anything.

[photog-crafty]

I wanted to like the Tropos Rallye, I really did. Stratoses are cool as hell and I love '70s and '80s wedgemobiles. The Tropos was just too grippy for me, though. It was a fantastic car and was great if you liked to drive grip-style, because it was nearly impossible to get this thing to break traction, but I was just more at home in slippery V8 barges.

Whenever a moon needed exploring, the Desert Raid was ready to handle it. This odd-looking giant rally buggy was much more nimble than it let on, with acceleration that rivalled even the electric cars and massive suspension travel that let it soak up the bumpiest trails. The best part was that the body panels loved to fall off at the drop of a hat, so after a couple of tumbles you were driving nothing but a pipe frame reminiscent of a failed Wile E. Coyote contraption.

The Trophy Truck was the Desert Raid's more svelte sibling, with almost identical performance and a much more traditional appearance. I used glitches to remove the spare tires from the back in order to make it look like something out of Stadium Super Trucks. If you like high-energy videogame-style racing, I highly recommend you look that up sometime.

There aren't many games with jumping tanks in them. Metal Slug and Blaster Master are the first to come to mind. The Scarab put a smile on my face by allowing me to add GTA to that list. This one in particular is the Apocalypse flavor, with more traditional treads and armor plating. In a move even more reminiscent of Blaster Master, the Scarab is the Arena vehicle in which I first learned to fly. The shunt boost pushes your vehicle to its left or right regardless of which way it's facing, so by jumping in the air and flipping on to your side, you could shunt straight up and, with some practice, chain shunts together to effectively fly across the map like the Metroid games' Space Jump ability. I'm pretty sure a lot of randoms thought I was an actual hacker.

Take the APC, remove its weapons, then give it bigger tires and make it rounder and cuter. That's the Zhaba. This peaceful herbivore of a vehicle could crawl over just about anything and float in water to go just about anywhere it wanted, albeit very slowly. Players could even stand on it without getting knocked down as it drove at full speed. As a side note, this thing looked absolutely ridiculous with F1 wheels, too much so even for me.

The Vagrant was a vehicle I wish I had tried a lot sooner. It was a zippy little buggy that thrived both on and off the pavement, and I bought it out of boredom when I had no reason to grind or run missions. It would have made those Blaine County jaunts a lot more enjoyable.

As fun as the Zhaba was, it just wasn't that practical for daily use because of its ponderous speed. The Freecrawler was the solution, offering much of the same capability and just as much cubic-ness in a faster and more accessible package. The short wheelbase and tiny overhangs gave it amazing approach angles, even to the point of conquering city barriers if you didn't mind scratching the paint a little bit.

Anyone who's grown up in Los Santos recognizes the Dubsta in its chrome and gold forms and understands the hustle they represent. Back when heists were just twinkles in our eyes and selling Ballers and Felons for $9000 was a legitimate moneymaking method, these Dubstas, commonly known as Dubsta 2s because they used a different model than the standard street Dubsta, were highly prized because they sold for roughly $25000 each. But they were like the Romero Hearse in that they wouldn't spawn unless you had one of your own to trigger it, so in order to get that gravy train rolling, you had to know a guy. This particular Dubsta was used to spawn a great many more, both for other players to add to their own rare car collections as well as for myself to use as garage fillers, because 25K is still 25K.

This Mesa was technically a Merryweather Mesa, specifically glitched to remove the roll cage but keep the hard top. Sadly, the mall in downtown wasn't very big, so it couldn't do a lot of crawling. I even tried to emulate the teal Bikini Pearlcoat color found on some modern Jeeps, though in hindsight I think I may have made it a bit too green.

Applying suspension upgrades at the mechanic would lower a vehicle's center of gravity. This piece of information was vital for anyone intending to drive a Rumpo Custom on a regular basis. This awesome off-road van was wild to tear around in, especially while blasting its ahooga horn, but taking a turn too tight would make it topple over like an old Explorer unless you lowered it as much as you could. Glitching the roll cage and roof rack off of it to make it look more like a plain adventure van certainly didn't help mitigate that damage.

[tma-entity-song-poll]

Battle of the Fear Bands!

B6R2: The Eye

Damn your eyes:

Ojos así:

Lyrics below the line!

Damn your eyes:

I can do what I want I'm in complete control That's what I tell myself I gotta a mind of my own I'll be alright alone Don't need anybody else I gave myself a good talking to No more bein' a fool for you But I see ya And all I remember How you make me want to surrender Damn your eyes For taking my breath away Makin' me want to stay Damn your eyes For gettin' my hopes up high Making me fall in love again Damn your eyes It's always the same You say that you'll change Somehow you never do I believe all your lies The look in your eyes You make it all seem true I guess I see what I want to see Or is it my heart just deceivin' me? Because with that look I know so well I fall completely under your spell Damn your eyes For takin' my breath away For makin' me want to stay Damn your eyes For gettin' my hopes up high For makin' me fall in love again Damn your eyes You keep deliberately deceivin' me Makin' me see what I want to see Damn your eyes For takin' my breath away, hey For makin' me want to stay Damn your eyes For getting'my hopes up high For making me fall in love again Damn your eyes Damn your eyes For taking my breath away Damn damn your eyes For getting my hopes up high For making me fall in love Fall in love again Damn damn your eyes

Ojos así:

Ayer conocí un cielo sin sol y un hombre sin suelo Un santo en prisión y una canción triste sin dueño

Yeah, hey, yeah-hey, yeah-yeah, hey Y conocí tus ojos negros Yeah, hey, yeah-hey, yeah-yeah, hey Y ahora sí que no puedo vivir sin ellos yo

Le pido al cielo solo un deseo Que en tus ojos yo pueda vivir He recorrido ya el mundo entero Y una cosa te vengo a decir Viajé de Baréin hasta Beirut Fui desde el norte hasta el Polo Sur Y no encontré ojos así Como los que tienes tú

رَبُّ السَّماءِ، فيك الرجاءِ في عينيها أرى الحياةِ آتِي إِلَيْكَ مِنْ هَذا الكَوْنِ أرجوك، رَبِّي، لَبِّي نِدائي

Viajé de Baréin hasta Beirut Fui desde el norte hasta el Polo Sur Y no encontré ojos así Como los que tienes tú

Ayer vi pasar una mujer debajo de su camello Un río de sal y un barco abandonado en el desierto

Yeah, hey, yeah-hey, yeah-yeah, hey Y vi pasar tus ojos negros Yeah, hey, yeah-hey, yeah-yeah, hey Y ahora sí que no puedo vivir sin ellos yo

Le pido al cielo solo un deseo Que en tus ojos yo pueda vivir He recorrido ya el mundo entero Y una cosa te vengo a decir Viajé de Baréin hasta Beirut Fui desde el norte hasta el Polo Sur Y no encontré ojos así Como los que tienes tú

رَبُّ السَّماءِ، فيك الرجاءِ في عينيها أرى الحياةِ آتِي إِلَيْكَ مِنْ هَذا الكَوْنِ أرجوك، رَبِّي، لَبِّي نِدائي

Viajé de Baréin hasta Beirut Fui desde el norte hasta el Polo Sur Y no encontré ojos así Como los que tienes tú

رَبُّ السَّماءِ، فيك الرجاءِ في عينيها أرى الحياةِ آتِي إِلَيْكَ مِنْ هَذا الكَوْنِ أرجوك، رَبِّي، لَبِّي نِدائي من البحرين إلى بيروت

Fui desde el norte hasta el Polo Sur Y no encontré ojos así Como los que tienes tú

Le pido al cielo solo un deseo Que en tus ojos yo pueda vivir He recorrido ya el mundo entero Y una cosa te vengo a decir Viajé de Baréin hasta Beirut Fui desde el norte hasta el Polo Sur Y no encontré ojos así Como los que tienes tú

//

Oh, you know I have seen a sky without sun A man with no nation Saints captive in chains A song with no name for lack of imagination

And I have seen darker than ebony And now it seems, that I Without your eyes, could never be

My one desire, all I aspire Is in your eyes forever to live Traveled all over the seven oceans There is nothing that I wouldn't give Came from Bahrein, got to Beirut Looking for someone comparing to you Tearing down windows and doors And I could not find eyes like yours Came from Bahrein, got to Beirut Looking for someone comparing to you Tearing down windows and doors And I could not find eyes like yours

Oh, you know I seen a woman of means In rags and begging for pleasure Crossed a river of salt just after I rode A ship that's sunk in the desert

And I have seen darker than ebony And now it seems, that I Without your eyes, could never be

My one desire, all I aspire Is in your eyes forever to live Traveled all over the seven oceans There is nothing that I wouldn't give Came from Bahrein, got to Beirut Looking for someone comparing to you Tearing down windows and doors And I could not find eyes like yours Came from Bahrein, got to Beirut Looking for someone comparing to you Tearing down windows and doors And I could not find eyes like yours

Lord of heaven, hope is in you In her eyes I see my life I come to you from this universe Please, Lord, answer my call From Bahrain to Beirut

Looking for someone comparing to you Tearing down windows and doors And I could not find eyes like yours My one desire, all I aspire Is in your eyes forever to live Traveled all over the seven oceans There is nothing that I wouldn't give Came from Bahrein, got to Beirut Looking for someone comparing to you Tearing down windows and doors And I could not find eyes like yours

[traumamor]

Winnie laughed a gentle laugh, batting her eyelashes when he returned her compliment. "Ron," she repeats. "Yeah, I can take you to him. Him and my dad work together," thinking of Trevor, him being away in Los Santos trying to find the ghost of Michael Townley, his old partner. Surely he wouldn't mind her going over to Ron's or helping some guy come without trying to rob him.

Swinging her keys on her lanyard, she points to her black bohdi and nods to it. "Get in and I'll take you to where he lives. I don't know if he's there though." Though Ron was somewhat of a recluse, thinking that the world was listening to him through cellphones and more, he might be working on something for T. Trevor never tells Winnie anything unless he needs her help with it.

"Hey, don't worry about a motel. I think I gotcha covered. Motels around here are full of diseases."

-

The ride to the trailer was quick, Winnie having driven in and out of traffic. She parked the truck in front of her and Trevor's trailer before pointing at Ron's house. "Right there. Doesn't look like he's there but y'know. You can go knock."

With that, Winnie jumped the fence over to the run down trailer her and Trevor shared. Disgusting old place, the smell of gasoline and urine hits her nose when she walks inside. This is just normal for her.

Continue from here. @cinnamilks

The girl looks few years younger than him with an appearance screaming 'don't come closer I'm dangerous' and the prettiest eyes he has ever seen, a dark eyeliner framing those beautiful orbs. Had a beautiful laugh, too and for a moment, John forgets why he's here only to flirt with the girl.

The compliment gets him by surprise, the city girls never talk to him like that, it's always him being the cheeky one- "..thank you" He clears his throat "you're um- you're a sight for the sore eyes yourself" and returns her smile "my friends told me I can find a man named Ron around here, he's good with computers and stuff if I'm not wrong" He had some trouble running away from his mistakes, he messed up, the head of the family, Stan, he sent him away to lay low for a while and clear his profile because there won't be 'next time' if he gets distracted during a mission again. He didn't know where to go, just sat in his car and drove.. letting the roads take him away.

"There's a motel nearby? Or some place that I can rent"

[xcjkt]

right person, wrong life.

Charcaters; Michael De Danta x Trevor Philips.

Timeline; Late 2010′s, Los Santos, post story.

Content Warnings; suicide, drug use, swearing, angst.

Summary; After Michael finds out Trevor cheats on him he gets back at him by sleeping with Dave Norton but ends up choosing Dave over Trevor. 

Author’s note; My best friend and I wrote about 200 pages during 2020 to get us through online school and during our peak of our gta v fandom. This is the end of the book and it holds such a special place in my heart. I actually have a tattoo of this book on my shoulder :)

Around midnight everyone started to leave slowly, some in pairs, some needing to be dragged out because they drank, smoked, or snorted too much of a substance. Trevor, though, proudly walked to Ron’s car in a straight line. He was proud of himself for staying sober for so long, it was his first birthday in 30 years he was sober the entire day. Ron drove him home with the only sound coming from the car was the soft classic rock music playing on the radio. He didn’t feel like he needed to say anything, just stare out the window at the sand and dead bushes they passed. “Do you need to stop anywhere before we take you home?” Ron asked as they entered the very edge of Los Santos. “Nope, i just want to be in my bed, asleep, dreaming of… of…” The only thing he could come up with on the spot was Michael. “I don’t really know what i want to dream of” he breathed out a laugh. Ron glanced at him before giving a small nod, “you do that T,” he seemed skeptical, like he secretly knew what Trevor wanted to dream about, and in a way Ron hoped Trevor did get that dream. “Any plans tomorrow?” Ron asked, “Don’t know yet, might see if Lester has any jobs for me, let me take my mind off things” Trevor mumbled the last part, as if admitting he needed to see a therapist again would make him seem weak again. 

Trevor waved goodbye to Ron as he pulled out of the driveway and back towards Sandy Shores. He fumbled around for his keys in his bag before quietly unlocking the door and stepping in. It was dark, as assumed, he hoped everyone in the house was asleep and he could sneak a soda up to his room without having a conversation with someone. He started his walk to the kitchen before a figure in the corner of his eyes caught his attention. Someone was sitting on the couch. He stopped walking and started before making out that Michael was sitting on the couch, in the dark, with no sound. “Michael?” Trevor whispered quietly, “Just making sure you got home safe” Michael said in a monotone voice. “Happy birthday” he mumbled before looking at him, “Dave went home for thanksgiving, figured i’d stay here to make sure the house didn’t burn down.” Michael stood up and made his way to the kitchen, Trevor following him into the kitchen. “Want a drink?” he asked, handing him a chilled can of alcoholic seltzer, “Uh, sure,” Trevor said skeptically, taking the can. Michael took out his own can and opened it. “How was the day with Ron?” Michael asked to take a sip, “pretty fun” Trevor said while taking a sip of his drink. He grimaced at the taste, watered down black cherry syrup didn’t taste as good as he remembered, “forgot how gross this shit tastes” Trevor laughed. “They never get better, Dave loves them though, don’t understand how” Michael chuckled, leaning his back into the counter. 

It felt weird actually having a conversation with Michael without getting snarky comments from Dave. “Maybe that’s why he’s so bitter, he’s never had good alcohol” Trevor said, raising an eyebrow as if testing the waters on being more open. “Maybe,” Michael laughed, taking a longer drink this time. “Take any drugs?” Michael asked, he sounded serious this time. Like he was expecting a “yeah and i fucked everyone that looked at me” Trevor shook his head, “got offered cocaine more than ever but stayed sober the entire party” He said leaning his back against the island, across from Michael. “Good job, honestly” Michael sounded a bit happier this time. “proud of you” He smiled. Trevor smiled back, “Is Amanda and the kids coming over for thanksgiving?” Trevor asked, sipping some more. “Nah, they said they couldn’t be bothered with seeing me. “Are you having Franklin over?” Trevor looked down at his can, “Probably,” Michael started, “If you’re okay with that,” Michael quickly added the last part, “Yeah, that’s fine i was gonna be in my room the entire time,” Trevor replied, “Why?” Michael asked, “It’s your house too,” 

Trevor’s eyes darted up, “I just figured it was yours and Dave’s now, and i was just a roommate, i was planning on heading back to Sandy Shores in a few days, you and Dave seem too happy to be bothered by me” Trevor mumbled. 

Michael went to say something before stopping himself and nodding, “If that’s what you want” he mumbled, heading to the sink and dumping the rest of his drink in the sink and walking away. Trevor didn’t say anything, he didn’t want to fight right now, he could tell Michael was pissy at the mention of him moving out. Once alone Trevor let out a long sigh and took his seltzer upstairs to his room. He softly closed the door behind him and pressed his forehead to the door for a moment. “fuck” he whispered before turning on the light and sitting on the bed. 

He didn’t really know if he wanted to move back to Sandy Shores, he knew Michael and Dave seemed pretty content with each other and Trevor seemed to be in the way of it. Maybe he just needed to move on, he tried to make it work with Michael but obviously couldn’t make it work. Even if Dave was killed, what good would that do for them? Michael would be in mourning for a while and if he found out that Trevor was the one that killed Dave, he would never forgive him. He knew deep down that at the end of the day the relationship would never be the same even if it did work out, there wouldn’t be enough trust in each other to be a stable relationship. 

He didn’t want to leave, he always wanted to be by Michael’s side, but he knew that it would never work the way he imagined it in his mind. He truly believed he got his hopes up that he and Michael would have the white picket fence American dream life after everything they had been through this last year. He still had hopes that it could work out but Dave was in the way and there was nothing he could do that could fix that. His heart bled for Michael. 

Trevor got out of bed the next morning to hear soft music playing downstairs. 

I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met. 

“Never would’ve thought of this song as a break up song” Trevor mumbled to himself as he turned to face the door, he didn’t feel like getting up yet, he didn’t want to face Michael right now. It was almost like Michael was finally  going through the break up, months later. In a way it pissed Trevor off that Michael was now mourning the relationship, as if Michael was doing anything to help fix it. Yet then again, Trevor was never doing anything to fix the relationship either. Fixing a relationship was a two sided battle that neither of them seemed to have the energy to fix. 

Trevor’s first red flag that Michael wasn’t ready for a relationship was the night they went out, with the milkshakes, calling the cashier sweetheart, snapping at him, then freaking out moments later. That wasn’t ready for relationship behavior, and Trevor should’ve respected that. 

Trevor let out a long sigh sitting up and running a hand through his hair. Maybe he’d get a cat to keep him company when he moved, name it something super absurd and make the vets question his mental state everytime he said the cat’s name. Bread Boy. That’s what he’d call the cat, he laughed to himself about the name, he knew he’d get lots of questions about the name, but what are the people going to do with that information? Nothing, so they get no concrete story. He’ll change the story every time, see if anyone picks up on the lie. Harmless fun is all it would be, and who’s to stop him? Not a single person. 

He eventually got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom to start a shower. Looking at himself in the mirror he chuckled a little, there was a little post it note just in front of his chest. “Have a shitty week :) -Dave” “fuck you too” He mumbled taking off his shirt and turning around to start the water. he took the note off the mirror and set it on the counter. All in good fun. Trevor told himself as he unclothed himself and got into the warm shower. The water was nice against his back and neck, relaxing even. He didn’t know why he took a shower, he had just recently washed his hair and didn’t need to wash it yet. He didn’t need to shave anything, who was he trying to impress anymore? He turned around and let the water hit his face. If Michael was in the shower with him he’d make a joke about how this is like letting a porn star squirt on him. Michael would laugh at that and then want to try. 

But Michael wasn’t here, and there was no joke to be made, except to have a shitty week. Just him, and his thoughts, and the shampoo bottle in the corner who had watched him cry in the shower enough times to refill the bottle. Fuck it, he thought to himself and grabbed the shampoo bottle and washed his hair, who was gonna stop him? God will strike me down if I shouldn't wash my hair! Nothing, no random lightning strikes. He’d use this moment to justify being an atheist until the day he dies. All in good fun. 

Hopping out of the shower was difficult, the air was freezing compared to the warmth of the water. Quickly grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his shoulders he basically waddled to the counter, glancing at the note and he put on boxers and his pants. Being 54 didn’t seem any different than being 53, then again 53 didn’t feel anything different than 52 and so on. But that was the way life goes, nothing feels different, except Michael being closer to a stranger than a friend anymore. It was his fault, he continuously pushed Michael away and kept getting worse, he never truly bettered himself, it was an act, because he knew in the end Michael would choose Dave. 

Trevor put his shirt on and made a quick shuffle to his room and started to pack. It was better now than last minute to start packing his clothes, that was all he really had anyways, just clothes, his truck, and phone. He paused packing and went to his phone. He opened his Photos app and started selecting all the pictures of him and Michael, just Michael, pictures taken with Michael next to him, anything that had to do with Michael. In order to get over a break up you need to get rid of the things that remind you of the person, he always remembered that. 345 pictures and videos later he was stuck on choosing “Delete permanently” or just leave them in recently deleted. What if this was a mistake? What if I’m overreacting too much?” Fuck, he hated himself for not bettering himself right away and taking so long, he felt like he used Michael for sex and a better life even though he truly believes he found his soulmate. 

Permanently deleted 

Trevor grabbed his bag of clothes and headed downstairs. He could hear the TV playing an old western movie, he had seen this western movie with him before, it was about two gay cowboys. He would never turn down an offer to watch the movie with Michael but it wasn't his favorite. And right now was not a great time to watch a movie. “I’m leaving now” Trevor said, shuffling over to the living room slowly, giving him and Michael some space. “I thought you weren't leaving for another few days, '' Michael said, looking away from the TV and to Trevor. “Decided to get a headstart on moving back into my trailer,” Trevor said, making eye contact with Michael. “If that’s what you want” Michael said standing up and making his way to Trevor. “Give you some time to clean up the office and make it ready for when Dave comes home too, I figured I shouldn't be here when Dave gets back” Trevor admitted. Michael pulled Trevor into a hug and squeezed, “I’ll miss you” Michael whispered. Trevor didn't say anything, he knew he’d miss Michael too but this was for the best, and the best thing to do right now was stay silent, don't show sadness in doing what’s best. 

Trevor pulled away and started to head for the door, he didn't turn back to look at Michael when he reached the door because he didn't want Michael to see that he was going to cry. “Goodbye Townley” Trevor called out, knowing Michael was still standing in the same spot. “Goodbye T,” Michael sighed, it was obvious there was pain in his voice. Trevor opened the door as the blinding light hit his eyes. He flinched a bit and a small tear rolled onto his cheek. He didn't look back when he closed the door. The TV’s noise fading out as the door closed until he heard the click of the doorknob and the sound fully stopped. 

Trevor could have sworn he heard Michael let out a sob, but that wasn't his problem anymore. Just Dave’s. He thought for a moment before stopping by Franklin’s to let him know that he won't be coming around anymore, but he had a gut feeling that Michael has already told him or will be soon. He walked down the driveway where his truck was parked and tossed his bag of clothes into the bed of the truck. He wasn't planning on making any stops on the way to Sandy Shores so he knew his bag was safe. 

He started his car and glanced at the door one last time, then up to the balcony, he saw Ryan standing there, with a wicked smile on his face, nodding.Trevor looked away and started to pull out of the driveway. His mind went to all of the memories of Michael, at the ferris wheel, when they were on the beach and Michael finally admitted to being an alcoholic, falling asleep in each other’s arms for the first time. Thinking about it now though, all the bad memories outweigh the good ones. It made him feel sick to his stomach. He wanted to puke all over his truck and sob into the steering wheel. 

Trevor closed his eyes and let a small tear roll down his cheek as he started pulling out of the driveway. His heart hurt for Michael and he wanted to get better for Michael but he knew it was over forever, there was nothing he could do to change the fact that Michael will never see Trevor the same way Trevor looked at Michael. He turned on the radio and started heading for the pier, he didn't know what he was going to do when he got to the pier, maybe ride the ferris wheel one more time then head to Sandy Shoes or maybe ride the rollercoaster to feel one last adrenaline rush before he lives the rest of his life wasting away in Sandy Shores. Maybe he’d just sit in his truck and watch as young lovers go through the puppy love phase before they waste their love and affection on some person who won't give a shit about them in less than two years. He started to speed once he saw the pier in sight, maybe this would be his adrenaline rush, that one last high before he rots. 

He drove past all the concession stands not swerving to dodge people, he didn't care if he hit anyone, it’d be their own fault if they didn't miss the giant red truck plowing towards them. His heart was racing as he pushed harder down on the gas pedal, he could see the fence that stopped people from falling off the dock, he knew what he was going for now. This wasn't Michael’s fault, nor was it Dave’s, he was going to take responsibility for what he was about to do. Without taking his eyes off the pier he took out his phone and dropped it in his lap.

He felt the fence hit the front end of his car before practically nose diving into the water. The truck floated for a second before slowly starting to sink. It took almost 30 seconds for the car to start slowly filling up with water. He grabbed his phone and unlocked it before quickly shooting a text to Michael; “This wasn't your fault :)” He watched the text send and say “delivered” before he blocked the contact and closed his eyes, the last of his tears rolling down his cheek as he felt the water hit his lower knee caps. 

He could hear sirens coming and what sounded like a helicopter approaching, someone called the cops on him, he couldn't care, by the time the cops could pull his truck out of the water, what needed to be done was done, he just hoped he would drown before they could get to him. 

He felt the water hit his chest and he laughed out, “Right person, Wrong life” before pushing his head under the water and screaming his last breaths into the water. He could feel the bubbles pop in his ears as he screamed harder. He inhaled as much water as he could before screaming the last of it out. 

[crowfootwrites]

Los Guardianes | Part II [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

In which Nestor needs a bandaid and we learn more about you.

Also, my apologies for any mistakes/errors. I was trying to edit this while surrounded by other people, so...

Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, and injury; language; mentions of alcohol | Words: 1,600+

Taglist: @chibsytelford @megapeacelovemusic-blog @broiderie

Part I of Los Guardianes

You had assumed, in your little flirtation with Nestor, that he was joking about coming around injured. So, when he showed up two days later, a little late for afternoon pickup, with a large piece of bloodstained gauze taped to one side of his face, you were shocked.

Your classroom was empty, and your aide had left for the day, leaving you to hang out with Cristóbal while you waited for Nestor to arrive. You were sitting at your desk with Cristóbal beside you, each of you scribbling away with crayons on coloring pages. Movement registered in the corner of your vision and you glanced up to see Nestor standing in the doorway, his face bandaged and the arm of his dress shirt covered in dried blood. His normally immaculate dress pants and shirt were covered in a layer of silt. You inhaled sharply as you rose from your seat, your feet carrying you quickly to stand in front of him. Cristóbal went to Nestor immediately, wrapping himself around Nestor’s leg in a fierce hug. Nestor sagged against the door frame with a grimace and your fingers reached for him instinctively, pausing when he met your gaze. But there was something encouraging in his glance, so you placed your cool hand softly against the feverish skin around the gauze. His eyes closed for just a moment, leaning into your touch, before you spoke.

“You know, I didn’t think you were actually going to take me up on my offer… I’m not sure I have any robot bandaids big enough for all this,” you teased quietly, tracing the bloodstained dressing. Nestor’s eyes opened and he smirked. You pulled your hand away, exceedingly aware of your rapidly increasing heart rate.

“Are you ok?”

His nod was slight, but it made you feel a little better. “I’m sorry I was late,” he mumbled, wincing as he took a breath. “I hate that you had to stay on my account.” He tapped Cristóbal and motioned for him to collect his backpack out of his cubby. Cristóbal did as he was asked, leaving you standing there alone with Nestor.

“Nestor, it’s really fine. Besides, if someone else had come to pick him up, I probably would have assumed you were dead, and that would have been worse.”

He studied you seriously for a few seconds, his expression giving nothing away. You tucked your arms behind your back nervously, rocking back onto your heels, but you managed to keep your eyes locked on his.

“Still,” he said finally. “I’d like to make it up to you. Can I take you out for a drink?” Cristóbal lumbered over, his backpack comically large on his small frame.

You smiled softly, trying not to appear as flustered as you felt on the inside. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Nestor grinned, and underneath the blood and filth, his face lit up. “I’ll text you,” he said with a quick nod, his stare raking over your body briefly before turning and ushering Cristóbal to the car.

Nestor had texted you that same evening and asked you to grab a drink with him the next day, which was how you found yourself at a low-key, dimly lit bar on the outskirts of Santo Padre on a Friday night. Your inclination towards promptness meant you had arrived fifteen minutes early, so you headed inside and took a seat at the bar, ordering a gin and ginger.

You glanced around you, trying to hold back the nervousness fluttering in your belly. You fiddled with the hem of your black dress before laying it flat against your thigh. In your classroom, you rarely wore anything other than pants and leggings. Working with preschoolers meant that you were always prepared to be crouching, crawling on the ground, sitting on the floor, bending over, carrying kids on your hip, cleaning up various bodily fluids, getting things spilled on you. So, it was always a treat to get to dress up and you felt extra cute tonight.

Shortly after the bartender returned with your drink, you heard Nestor’s low, familiar voice near the shell of your ear.

“I was supposed to buy that for you,” he murmured, and you shivered just slightly at the fanning of his warm breath on your neck. His hand grazed your lower back as he passed you to take the stool next to yours.

You ducked your head to hide your grin. “You can buy the next one.”

Your smile faltered as he faced you completely and you got a clearer look at his injuries. He had forgone the gauze on his face, instead opting for a series of butterfly closures running down the jagged cut along his cheekbone. He was sporting a shiner on the eye on that side, but he seemed like he was in one piece otherwise.

“How’s the face?” you asked with a grimace.

“I’ve had worse,” he told you before ordering a beer from the bartender.

“I guess a life of crime would do that to you,” you said, and he glanced over at you with a raised eyebrow, perhaps trying to gauge how you meant it. You tossed him a wink and he smirked, shaking his head slightly.

“So,” you asked casually, “how did you end up being a security detail to the little man?”

“Big man’s mad at me.”

You laughed. “What?”

Nestor sighed, smoothing his facial hair with a hand punctuated by scabbed knuckles. “I, uh – fucked up, a while ago. Caused a lot of issues for Mikey. He put me on school duty as a punishment, I guess.” He paused, tossing back his beer. “But things are really tense right now, too, and I think it helps Mikey to have Cristóbal with someone he trusts. So, he kept me on it. And it’s fine, you know? They’re my family.”

He met your gaze meaningfully. “And it’s a nice way to start the morning,” he added.

“You’re really good with Cristóbal,” you commented warmly, heat rising on your cheeks. You hoped he couldn’t tell just how much you adored that about him.

Nestor’s lips curled into a small smile. “I’ve been around his whole life. Plus, he’s a pretty great kid.”

“Can confirm.” You paused around a sip of your cocktail. “So, I would imagine that you can’t share too much, but what does being the head of security for a cartel boss entail?”

Nestor’s eyes darkened broodingly, and you wondered if you’d overstepped, although you’d tried to acknowledge that you realized there were things you weren’t allowed to know. He leaned onto the top of the bar on his elbow, studying you again. “A lot of illegal shit. A lot of violence.” He paused thoughtfully. “But it’s also just a lot of… waiting. A lot of phone calls, researching, driving, babysitting – and not just babies.”

You chuckled at his sardonic choice of words. “I don’t know how you do it,” you joked. “I’m only okay with the babysitting involved in my job because they’re actual babies.”

“What made you decide to be a preschool teacher?” he asked, his shoulders relaxing a bit. You were distracted for a moment by the way his floral dress shirt pulled taut over his biceps and you swallowed hard.

“Uh – I got my degree in elementary education, and I started out as a kindergarten teacher. I was working in LA, but I had sort of a… rough patch, and needed to start over somewhere else. When the director, Maria, opened New River, she offered me a spot so I could come down to Santo Padre and get my shit back together.” You took a long pull on your drink, trying to swallow down your nerves.

Nestor’s head was tilted to the side curiously and you waited to see if he would inquire further. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding when he stuck to easy questions.

“How long have you been in Santo Padre?” he asked, tapping his fingers against his beer bottle.

“About two years. You?”

“Most of my adult life. I grew up with Mikey. And then I was in the Navy, moving around a lot. When I got out, Miguel offered me the job and I’ve been here ever since.” He shrugged slightly.

You studied him thoughtfully for a moment, the question you’d been wanting to ask him since you first met him resting on the tip of your tongue. He held your gaze steadily, so you went for it.

“Is it lonely?”

In the brief silence that followed, you wondered again if you had overstepped, if maybe it was too personal of a question. But you also felt strongly that the way Nestor answered would give you some indication as to his intentions with you.

His eyes narrowed on you, his head cocked to the side. “It can be.” He shifted on his barstool, his clothed knee knocking gently against yours, the touch sending electricity directly to your heart. Before you could respond to his statement, he asked, “Are you lonely?”

You were immediately annoyed at yourself for not anticipating that he would turn the question back on you; that was followed by the rush of embarrassment at your answer. Your mind reeled. Should you be honest with him? If you told him about your past, would he feel sorry for you? If you shared how and why you ended up in Santo Padre, would he pity you? You didn’t want that.

But.

You also desperately wanted to trust him. There was something about Nestor that made you feel safe, and while you supposed that was a side effect of his job, his interest in you represented a connection you hadn’t had with another person in years. And that alone pushed you towards the truth.

Your eyes found the bar top as you answered. “Yeah. I am.” You waited nervously for the follow-up questions, but they never came.

Instead, you felt Nestor’s knee knock softly against yours again and you looked up to meet his eyes. “Maybe you don’t have to be anymore,” he offered, leaning to bump his shoulder into yours, making you smile.

Part III of Los Guardianes

[chaosfindsaway]

"Can't say the name sounds familiar, sorry." Tommy shook his head, not even bothering to sift through his mind to figure out if he recognized the name or not. Truth be told, he was waiting on a transfer to the department in Sandy Shores so he hardly conversed with any of his fellow officers of Los Santos. Just the ones who had offices next to his.

He picked up the plate, a brow perking at the realization that this man seemed to be lingering despite having no reason - though Tommy had a feeling he knew the reason. With a quick glance down at the burger, he exhaled and looked back over at John. "You know, I really shouldn't be inviting people into Mikey's house, but I cooked more burgers than I needed to and who knows when he'll be home. You wanna come in and maybe we can, I don't know, talk about what's wrong with your car?"

"Oh? A cop then.." He smiles, trying his best to look friendly "my ex-girlfriend worked for the police force too.." He waves a hand with a chuckle, correcting himself "she works. Should be careful how I choose my words around someone like you, no?" He winks "you don't want to arrest me for that? Do you?"  "By all means, I still have lemonade ready in my freezer and my car still needs repair, not asking you to get your hands dirty and all, just a little check up to tell me which part needs to be repaired? I'm not familiar with car's part and I think our local fixer lies most of the time only to get more money from me" He says with an eye roll. Moves his weight from one foot to another, chewing inside his cheek as he watches Tommy placing all the steaks in the plate, their talk is over officially. He grasps for something in his mind to get the man on his side as soon as he can, no way he walks away and leaves John with all the questions about that bitch Amanda and that idiot husband of hers! Ugh! "H-have you heard of her by any chance? My girlfriend I mean! Maggie Shaw? She was studying to become a detective last time we talked, I assume you know her?" Maggie who keeps saying dating John was the first and the last mistake she did.. come on! At least invite me inside, Goddammit! He yells at the man inside his head, keeping the polite face still.

[sorcererinthestars]

You’ve Got a Fast Car...

I’m back, bitches~~ But seriously, felt great to write again for the @rtwritingcommunity​‘s secret sunshine event! I will tag my recipient if/when I get their a-ok!

Summary: (FAHC) Michael doesn't expect a man to throw himself in front of his car and beg him to stop. This is Los Santos. Picking up hitchhikers is generally frowned upon. But this man has a pretty face and hell - he's got a fast car. What's he got to lose?

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32969470

-

Michael knew something was seriously wrong when a man throws himself out in front of his car.

Now, his car was nothing nice, but he still doesn't want to spend the next few hours getting some fucking asshole's blood off of his front bumper. So naturally he slams on the brakes as the man - a skinny, dirty thing with wild hair - does a legitimate fucking slide across the hood of his shit Honda Civic and nearly collapses on the other side. "Oi!"

"Get out of the damn road, idiot!" Michael yells out the window in a reply, flicking him off to boot. It was late, almost 2am at this point, and he really had anything better to do than scream at some (probably high) dickbag who decided to do calisthenics in the goddamn street. But the man doesn't run away ashamed, as Michael had expected. Instead, he frantically pokes at his phone - still in the middle of the street - and Michael sits there, a bit flabbergasted.

He doesn't move.

He still doesn't move when Michael lays his entire weight on the horn, sending a blast of sound into the Los Santos night. It's not as loud or annoying as he may have wanted - LS is always loud as fuck on a Saturday evening - but it does have the intended effect of nearly making the idiot in front of his car in the middle of the street jump half out of his skin.

"SHHH!" the man gasps, comically putting his finger over his lip like he was in a cartoon and making an over-exaggerated shushing motion. Michael has to blink. He's shushing him? While standing in front of his car? Before he can say anything or shake off the disbelief that this shit had to happen to him tonight - he had to get home and clean off before his next shift at the pizza place he had reluctantly taken a job at - the man (still crazy-eyed and wild-haired) runs up to his window. At this moment, Michael really wishes he had invested in a knife, or a Tazer, or something. People had warned him about LS, but he didn't listen. He should probably learn to do that, someday.

"Listen, man," the guy says (see?) and leans forward, a massive grin on his face. He has some pretty high cheekbones. Michael blinks. "Dude, can you please just move or I'm gonna run you the fuck down."

"No, no, no, listen," the man says again, waving his hands about. "Do me a favor, will ya? If you drive me to this address -" he holds his phone up and shows an address on the outskirts of the city - "I'll give you $1,000. Right here, right now, no questions." Michael blinks and then snorts. Yeah fucking right. "I'm not an Uber."

The man shifts on both his feet, looking agitated, and glances over his shoulder. There sounds like there's some sort of commotion coming down the street and he really has to move. So Michael leans on the horn again, blasting another honk into the LS skyline.

This has the unintended effect of making the man lean further over the hood of his car, as if he could hide. Remember. This was in the middle of the goddamn street.

"Dude!"

"I'm not kidding!" the wild-eyed man says frantically. "$1500. Deposited directly into your account. I'm serious, kill me and my crew if I lie."

That was no turn of phrase Michael had ever heard, but the money does make him pause. He's... short on funds right now. Well, he's always short on funds, but this time moreso than usual. $1,500 extra would be a huge boost to the amount he currently has in the bank. He'd pay rent. He wouldn't have to borrow any more from anyone else and avoid that loan shark fucker he found online.

Before he could really think about what he was saying, he finds himself tapping the passenger seat. "Fine. Get in. I swear to god, I better see that money."

And if he dies... well. Then he still wouldn't have to worry about rent, so win-win in his mind.

With a triumphant holler, the man leaps into the car and yanks up a GPS on his phone, pointing them to drive down the street. "Thanks man! I'm Gavin." -

They're not going more than five minutes when sirens start blaring behind them. The man tenses and looks backwards out the window with a frown. "Oh shit."

Michael immediately - immediately - realizes just how much he fucked up. "What do you mean, oh shit?"

"I - uh..." The unhinged man - Gavin - stutters. "Did... Did I mention that uh... the LSPD may want to arrest me?"

"May want to what?!" Michael's voice climbs so many octaves in that last word that it makes Gavin slump down in his seat, suitably chagrined. "I ... seriously, man, I - I needed a car, a way out, I promise I'll give you the money, just please for the love of god, drive the damn car."

"Pull Over," the cop car unhelpfully calls from behind them, making Michael's bowels turn to water. Gavin's even more frantically slamming keys on his phone as they approach a major intersection. Michael keeps looking behind him, unable to slow down as the cops continue to chase them. "Gavin, seriously..."

"You're with me now, man," he replies a bit frantically. "You're in it. So either we avoid them, or you're going to jail too. Sorry."

The words fall like bricks on Michael's shoulders as he realizes that what Gavin just said was true. No cop in their right mind would believe that he - a man with a few blotches on his permanent record already - would have just accepted to pick up a hitchhiker and drive him across town at 2am for $1,500 without assuming he was a criminal. No. Any sane cop would assume he was in on it.

Because the alternative was that he was a fucking lunatic, but here we are.

Gritting his teeth, a conscious shift happens somewhere in his gut. He's a survivor. He'd get the fuck out of this, one way or the other. So, without Gavin's input and in a split second decision, he takes a sharp left and rips around the corner, sending Gavin flying against the door with a shout of surprise. "HEY!"

"Gotta avoid the cops, don't we?" Michael says with a maniacal burst of laughter, the insanity that can only be best described as hysteria. "You're the navigator, idiot, get us to where we need to be!"

The nervousness - which had appeared on Gavin's face after Michael had blown up at him - evaporated as Gavin bursts into a big smile. "Hell yeah," he hums. "Let's do this."

-

After fifteen minutes, Michael had lost all his nerves. Instead, he felt like an overinflated balloon, filled with a giddy sort of lunacy that he had never felt before as they flew down abandoned Los Santos streets. He shrieked with laughter as they slipped down the runway illuminated by neon lights and flashing red and blues, which whipped around them like a rave of their own design.

The freedom was intoxicating. Michael had taken drugs before back in New Jersey, who hadn't(?), but this was a whole different sort of high. And as soon as Gavin realized that Michael was in it with him, he had turned into an erratic demon of death, urging Michael onward with the same fire that was reflected in Michael's soul.

They flew down the streets like hedonists, shrieking with laughter and happiness as Gavin shoves his head out the sunroof to flick off the cops and shout insults.

When the first gunshot cracks through the night, Michael is sobered only for a moment. In for a penny, in for a pound. He's already here, dodging the cops, so this shit may as well happen. It's like he's in a godforsaken video game but he's not. This is real life, this is his life, and maybe he's ruining it. Maybe. But what had he not ruined in his life already? For a few moments, he could feel like he was disconnected from reality, driving so fast he could swear he could fly, a - undeniably pretty - man urging him to new, foolish lengths from the seat next to them.

And so they flew. As they approached intersections and traffic lights, Michael could see - more like sense - Gavin's own particular talents. He admits he has no abilities behind the wheel, hence begging Michael to help him, but he's able to make every traffic light change from here to the safehouse, giggling like a school kid all the while, knowing he was being naughty but that just sends them into a more frenzied set of hysterics.

It tastes like the best drug, the most collective high, the freedom that comes from knowing you're one step away from death or worse but that dangle is intoxicating. Maybe ten minutes ago he hated what was happening, but all that was gone now.

It's just the car, him, and Gavin's frantic - musical - laugh.

-

Eventually - with Gavin's GPS and eventually warm hand over his - they lose the cops. Michael has no sense of time, no concept of how long they were on the roads causing havoc, fleeing and laughing and shrieking like demons.

All he knows is that he's out in the North now and the beginning shards of sun were peeking over the horizon. He's able to slow to a manageable speed and catch his breath.

Gavin's phone rings and the man answers it. Michael can't hear what he's saying past the ringing in his ears, the result of wind whipping past his face and hours of excitement. His face is red when he meets Gavin's eyes. He closes the phone and the excitement shines bright in his eyes.

For a moment, Michael's breath is taken away. Then Gavin just points. "Top of Chilliad. Get me there." His voice is hoarse from yelling, deeper than it was, and it stirs something that Michael can't explain.

"Yes, sir," he hums teasingly. In for a penny, in for a pound, like he had said before. They start the climb up the dirt road. Once or twice, Michael doesn't think his car can make it, but the tenacious Civic crawls forward as if it knows what it had done too and felt on top of the world.

They make it to the top as the sun finally breaks over the horizon completely, blanketing the world in orange and red. When Michael finally - finally- throws the car in park and looks over at him, Gavin's grinning the biggest grin Michael has ever seen.

Before he can do anything, fuelled by adrenaline and fire and the same pure joy on Gavin's face, Michael leans over and kisses him deeply, half dragging him over the stick shift.

They kiss feverishly for a few moments, the adrenaline fading, before breaking apart and chuckling sheepishly. "I - sorry, I ..."

Gavin just winks. It's knowing. "No problem, luv," he purrs. "Does it to you, doesn't it? The chase? Makes the fire in your blood run hot." He leans forward conspiratorially. "Men weren't made to walk on their knees," he hums. "Think about it." He digs in his pocket and drops a card on the passenger seat before climbing out of the door, even as Michael tries to grab his arm and yank him back. "Gav--"

"Later, beautiful," Gavin grins, seemingly more suave and sophisticated than the man he was when he first climbed into the car. Like he was grifting and Michael was his poor, unsuspecting mark. "I'll call you. You're a great driver. Check your account." He salutes and it's then when Michael can hear the thud-thud of roters. A helicopter?

Before he can say anything, climbing frantically out of the car to watch, Gavin grabs a rope ladder hanging off the bottom of a fucking cargobob and is lifted into the air, disappearing quickly out of sight like something out of a fairy tale.

And Michael is left in the remains of the sun-drenched LS morning, with a car almost empty of gas and mysteriously $1,500 richer.

Whatever had happened to him that night in Los Santos, he knows his life will never, ever be the same.

[writerofshit]

(I mentioned briefly a story of how the Stream Team met. This is that story.)

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the late night hours of a Tuesday, a convenience store is robbed. So is one several blocks southeast. And one roughly in the middle of them both. After all, what's more convenient than 24 hour chili dogs on every other street corner?

Cash. Cash is more convenient. So are guns. Hollering, waving one to get the other. Most important, back alleys that twist and turn, snaking away from increasingly distant sirens. Three individuals find themselves running through these alleys, a couple grand each weighing their pockets down.

It's through serendipity and convenience that their paths cross.

The man from the farthest store arrives first. He's done this a few more times than he'd like to admit, so he'd had a plan. Of sorts. Cut through the park, take a few sidewalks like an upstanding citizen, under the bridge and find a fire escape to utilize from there. There aren't any that reach the ground, of course, because he's smart but not quite enough.

And so this is why Trevor is standing in an dark alley, contemplating whether or not the dumpster will give him enough height to reach the ladder, when the man from the middle store appears. He's around Trevor's height, but would probably win in a fight between them, if he were so inclined. He doesn't seem to be, though. He seems shaken, like he's not quite sure how he ended up in this alley. He's holding a gun almost gingerly, as if it might bite him.

Trevor pulls his own gun.

'dont you fuckin' try anything!'

This does not go over well with Matt. He takes a step back, and then seems to remember that he also has a gun so maybe this is even footing. He holds it aloft, finger nowhere near the trigger.

'same, asshole!'

At this moment the robber from the first store arrives, also, of course, with a gun. And a mask. And an entire purple and orange neon fucking suit, actually, topped with a white cowboy hat. It gives them a few extra inches of height they are distinctly lacking, comparatively. Somewhere in the back of his head, Trevor acknowledges that this newcomer could probably kick his and the other gunman's asses. It is not a pleasant thought.

'oh, what the fuck!?'

Jeremy sounds more annoyed and less scared than one would think, considering they've run into an alley only to find two men with guns. Two men who quickly turn those guns on them.

'who the fuck are you?'

The question surprises them all, including Matt, even though he's the one who asked. As it turns out, people have a tendency to say the first thing that comes to mind when in a stressful situation. Such as, having robbed a convenience store for the very first time and immediately finding himself face to face with other apparent robbers. It would get to anyone, probably.

'i don't want any trouble, but i've already robbed someone tonight and i don't give a shit about felony murder!'

Two lies and a truth, is what Trevor has chosen to play, for some reason. In reality, one does not rob a convenience store at gun point if one is intent on staying out of trouble. And he does, in fact, care very deeply about felony murder. Felony murder is the precise reason he'd shot a bag of Doritos and not a clerk. In his defense, the clerk had initially rolled her eyes at him, asked what exactly he thought he'd get out of this. He'd found this question rude.

The truth, of course, is that he did rob a convenience store. That did happen. No take backs.

'so did i!'

Matt and Jeremy speak so in unison it's almost scary. If they didn't know any better, they'd think the two of them had always known each other.

Trevor's gun wavers between them, unsure which is the bigger threat. The guy who clearly has zero experience with guns, or the weirdo who seems to have far too much? It's a toss up, really. So his aim pinballs back and forth, but his finger does not curl around the trigger. He's serious about that felony murder thing.

The air seems to shift, suddenly, and the sound of sirens is now growing closer. This evidently also annoys Jeremy, and they throw a glance over their shoulder to the direction they'd come from. Red and blue lights flicker past.

'shit. ok. we're all robbers, i guess, and we're all fucked if we keep standing here. who's got a plan?'

Jeremy's eyes are staring impatiently at Trevor. Eyes being the only part of their face Trevor can see. And their hands, a plastic bag in one and a gun in the other.

Trigger finger is an apt name.

He glances at Matt, still wild eyed and glancing back and forth. No, Matt probably does not have a plan. He sort of gives the impression that he's never had a plan ever, actually. That perhaps he'd simply woken up here and decided to wing it. So Trevor makes an offer.

'fire escape?'

There's another moment of tense silence. Well, minus the sirens. And oh, helicopters. Even better. Jeremy shrugs.

'good a plan as any.'

And then they're off, brushing past Trevor and hoisting themself up onto the dumpster. He knew it could work. Trevor blinks and Jeremy has caught the ladder, is quickly working their way up. Shit, how does five foot something manage to get that high on a good day, much less in this situation and with a bag and gun in hand?

Matt's gun clatters to the ground, and honestly, that's probably for the best. He's climbing onto the dumpster now, and he mutters something about not signing up for this shit. Trevor reminds him that he apparently robbed someone, so yeah, he kind of did.

Before Trevor climbs up, he shoves his gun into his jacket pocket. Smart? Probably not. Convenient? More so than climbing with a gun in his hand. He follows Matt up the ladder, wondering what happened to his plan. Yeah, the ladder had been involved. Two other people, however, were not.

Above them, glass shatters.

'warning, maybe!?'

'oops. careful, there's glass.'

Jeremy's voice is no longer directly above them. Instead, it comes from one story up and a little to the left. So they've broken into an apartment. Sure, add breaking and entering to the list of charges, that sounds great. But Matt and Trevor follow, because there's not really another option.

Inside the apartment, Jeremy's mask is gone. The suit is quickly disappearing as well, revealing a rather boring outfit of a white tank top and...sweatpants? The true mystery lies in where the cowboy hat has gone to, because that's a hard item to miss.

'do we really have time for this? don't you think someone might, oh, i don't know, wake up and call the cops?'

Trevor doesn't mean to hiss, it's just that he's sure there's more pressing matters to attend to than an outfit change. Continuing to flee, perhaps.

'nobody's gonna wake up.'

They don't even have the wherewithal to lower their voice. It registers to Trevor that Jeremy's bag and gun are missing as well. Had they dropped them on the way up? It was certainly possible. Trevor thinks he would have noticed a gun flying past his head, but there's a lot going on.

'can we maybe not kill anyone? he brought up a good point with that felony murder thing.'

It's the most words Matt has strung together since he'd shown up. It's damn near a whisper, but at least it's progress.

'i'm not- god, can you two shut up? i gotta make a phone call.'

Jeremy yanks the door open, hand carefully wrapped in the fabric of their shirt. For a moment, Trevor thinks they're leaving and steps forward to follow Jeremy. Instead, Jeremy turns and heads toward the kitchen, pulling open a drawer and digging inside it briefly. They come back with a cell phone.

Something dawns on Trevor.

'is this- do you live here? did you break your own window?'

Jeremy doesn't answer. They put the phone to their ear.

'you're gonna wanna hide whatever you've got. and try not to look like you just climbed in through a window.'

And then-

'hello? yes, hi, i'd like to report a break in, i think? i was hearing a bunch of sirens and then i don't know what happened but some guy just broke my window? he ran through and i just- my friends and i are really scared and we didn't know what to do- yes, we're ok, he's gone, but we- you'll send someone? ok, thank you. the address? oh, uh, it's the del perro heights building, apartment 7. should i shut the door? no, don't touch anything. ok- guys, don't touch anything, she said someone's on their way to check on us! thank you so much- no, i think we'll be fine. thank you.'

It's a marvelous performance. Jeremy genuinely sounds like some poor flustered victim of a crime. Trevor would applaud if he thought Jeremy would appreciate it. Almost immediately, their voice is back to normal.

'check things out my ass. they're gonna show up, ask which way he went and never call me again. feel real fuckin safe.'

Jeremy settles themself onto the couch, choosing the spot closest to the door. Matt, who has apparently gotten over his initial terror, wanders into the kitchen. Searching for something to distract himself, if Trevor had to guess. Trevor is still standing in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded. How did a simple robbery become hanging out with other robbers, waiting for cops to show up?

'i'm jeremy, by the way. they won't ask, but y'know. just in case.'

They're flipping channels on the tv, seeming to arbitrarily skip almost a dozen programs. Finally, they settle on one and stand. Trevor recognizes it as an old Disney movie, and desperately wants to ask why the fuck Jeremy has put this on.

'uh, hi. i'm trevor. why are we watching Mulan?'

'matt. oh hell yeah, i love this movie!'

He sounds remarkably cheerful, considering the circumstances. How Trevor had seemingly switched places with Anxious McGee is beyond him. He needs to get it together. He pulls his gun from his pocket and takes it to the kitchen, sticking it in the drawer Jeremy had taken the phone from. There are several other phones of varying price point. He steps back to the living room just in time.

'that's why.'

They don't elaborate. Apparently Trevor is meant to just figure this out on his own, which ordinarily he might be able to do. After the course of events of this particular evening? Not a chance.

But he can't ask, because now there's a cop in the doorway and he's staring at Trevor and that will never be a good thing. Trevor stares back. He has no clue what he's meant to say. Hello? Welcome? He went that way?

'oh thank god! we've been so terrified, we didn't know if he'd come back or what he'd do.'

Naturally, Jeremy has taken lead on this. They're a phenomenal actor, Trevor has to admit.

'did you see which direction he went?'

'toward the stairs, i think. we've all been rooted to the spot, you know, it's so scary-'

Matt freezes in the doorway of the kitchen. He's just out of the view from the front door.

'right, well. you boys did the right thing by calling. can you give me a description of the man?'

The corner of Jeremy's mouth quirks.

'gosh, it all just happened so fast. taller than me, probably, but shorter than you, wouldn't you say, trey?'

Trevor nods, because he's not quite sure what else to do.

'alright, thank you. someone will be in touch with you for an official statement. in the meantime, if you remember anything else don't hesitate to call.'

He's holding a card out to Trevor, of all people. He takes it carefully, like if he does it wrong somehow the guy will know and arrest them all. The card is simply the number for a tip line.

As suddenly as he'd arrived, the cop is gone and they're all breathing sighs of relief. Jeremy closes the door.

'you guys can stay for Mulan, if you want.'

So they do.

Trevor asks about why Mulan again, and Jeremy explains that they assume most people have seen it, could answer any questions about it if they came up. Perhaps, if LSPD officers were less incompetent, they would have. Although if that were the case, they wouldn't be LSPD officers at all.

Matt asks about the window, and Jeremy says yes, they did break their own window. Of course they'd had an actual plan when they'd entered the alley. They were always going to end up exactly here, give or take the extras. Asking for a plan was simply a test, determining the merit in bring them along. They'd passed.

Jeremy asks if they want to stay for Mulan II, which is apparently up next. They do.

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the early morning hours of a Wednesday, three convenience stores are recovering from three separate robberies. Right in the middle of them all, their respective robbers are sitting on a couch together, watching a straight to video children's film.

It is the beginning of something far greater than any of them can imagine.

[drabbles-mc]

Just The Thing

Bishop Losa x F!Reader

Request by my fave @est1887: I have this idea for a request for bishop I saw this video of this guy using a flamethrower to clear his driveway of snow and I’m like that’s hilarious and perfect so since Texas just got a crazy snow and ice storm why not the same for Santo padre. Bishop comes to his lady rescue because she has to go to work at the hospital but she’s can’t get out of her driveway because it’s iced and on a hill, like it’s the apocalypse of snow. Idk where to go from there but I got this from a prompt list. “Well I suppose that’s one way of doing things. Wouldn’t have ever thought to use a flamethrower, myself.” “Is it even legal to own this many?” I can see him now looking like rambo with a cigar and a flamethrower clearing her driveway like el Rey de los Mayans Lolol her knight in shining leather lol

Warnings: language, Bishop being extra and loving every second of it

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I loved the slight sense of chaos of this request lmao. Bishop really didn’t come to play with Mother Nature. Enjoy! xo

Bishop Losa Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @queenbeered @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @arveeee @mayans-sauce @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12​

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You had never heard of there being snow in Santo Padre. It was the equivalent of hell freezing over—it just didn’t happen. Until it did.

You woke up and your body was instantly covered in goosebumps. You rubbed your arms to try and fight off the chill as you went to get out of bed. The hardwood floors were freezing against your feet and you immediately went to find a pair of sandals to wear around the house.

You peaked out the window in your kitchen and your eyes grew wide as you looked at the snow that was covering your front yard. Part of you was wondering if you were dreaming, because the entire scene in front of you just didn’t look right. You sighed, running your hands down your face. There was nothing you could do about it now, so you decided to get dressed and ready before you further assessed the situation.

You pulled on your heaviest hoodie over your scrubs before you headed outside to see just what you were dealing with. As you were stepping down off of your front steps, you nearly wiped out on the path that lead from your door to the driveway. You managed to catch yourself on the railing to your steps before your head smacked off the concrete. Carefully lifting yourself up, you took a closer look at the front path and driveway. With a heavy sigh, you realized that along with the thing blanket of snow, there was also a layer of ice underneath it all. You knew that your car wasn’t going to be good enough to get you to work.

You managed to get back inside without any further incidents and immediately called Bishop. He picked up on the second ring, concern heavy in his voice, “Hey, everything alright?”

“Think you could come over and help me out?” you couldn’t even try to hide the exasperation in your voice as you talked to him, “My driveway is a mess and I know for a fact my car isn’t gonna be able to make it down the hill safely. I was wondering if you had a plow at the scrapyard or salt for my driveway or just, something, anything that will make it so I can get to work today.”

He chuckled, not that he found your distress amusing but there was something about your tone that brought it out of him. “Of course, I’ll be over in a little bit. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you. Drive safe, Obispo. People are going to be fucking nuts out there today, I can feel it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You hung up the phone feeling a little more relieved than you had been before the call. Worst case scenario, you had to use some sick time and miss your shift. But you really didn’t want to. Hopefully, even if your car wouldn’t be able to survive the trek down your driveway, Bishop’s would and he could bring you to work instead.

Hardly ten minutes later, you heard the sound of Bishop’s pickup making its way up your driveway. The fact that he was able to do that was reassuring—you knew you had a guaranteed way to get to work if he couldn’t make it so your car could get out.

He let himself into your house, calling out for you as he brushed the snow off the bottoms of his boots. You walked over to him, instantly feeling more relieved just at the sight of him. You walked up and he wrapped you in a hug, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Heard you were having some trouble with the snow?” he said with a chuckle as you trailed your fingers through his beard.

You groaned and nodded, “Yea. Since when the fuck does it snow in Santo Padre?”

He shook his head, “No fucking idea. But I think I have just the thing to help you out.”

He motioned for you to follow him back outside. You carefully followed his exact footsteps, since he clearly was able to get into your house without falling and hurting himself. He walked over to the bed of his truck and pulled down the tailgate. You were a little surprised that he didn’t bring one with a plow attachment, but you figured he had some sort of plan in mind regardless.

You peaked around his shoulder to see what he had hiding in the bed of his truck. Truthfully, you had no idea what you had been expecting to see. But what you were met with was certainly outside your own realm of possibility.

“Bishop, is that…are those…” you felt like even finishing the sentence was going to sound ridiculous.

He chuckled at the surprised expression on your face, “Go ahead, ask.”

“Is it even legal to have this?” you looked at the device he was holding in his hands, “I feel like this isn’t legal…at all.”

“It’s only illegal if you get caught.”

“Bish, no,” you laughed, “That’s not how that works.”

“You want to get to work, right?”

You chuckled and nodded, “I mean, yea. I don’t exactly want you setting yourself on fire in the process, though.”

He shook his head as he leaned in and kissed you, “I won’t.”

The confidence with which he said it made you assume that it wasn’t anywhere near the first time he used it. You weren’t sure if that was comforting or concerning. In your mind, the last thing any of the guys in the MC needed to be playing with was a flamethrower. But it was too late to worry about any of that now.

You stepped back, nervous but eager to see what he was about to get himself into. He shut the tailgate and took a deep breath. You chuckled to yourself as you saw the excitement growing in his eyes. You could tell that he was thinking to himself that life didn’t give him enough opportunities to use a flamethrower.

He made an initial pass over part of your driveway and you looked on in shock and awe as the snow and ice disappeared in a matter of seconds. Bishop turned back to you with a proud smile on his face and you couldn’t help but to laugh and gesture for him to continue. You pulled your sweatshirt tighter around you as you watched him proceed to clear off your driveway. There were a lot of moments in your life with Bishop that left you thinking that you couldn’t make it up even if you tried, but this was definitely nearing the top of your list. He walked so nonchalantly down the driveway, waving the flames with as much ease as though he was watering your lawn with a garden hose.

It was quite the image, his kutte draped over his sweatshirt as he unleashed fire on the expanse of your driveway. You wondered if any of your neighbors were watching, and what they were thinking if they happened to catch a glimpse of any of this. No one would start trouble, knowing who Bishop was, but you wondered if any of them would want him to hit their driveways next. You chuckled at the thought of Bishop going from house to house like he was selling Girl Scout Cookies, only he was offering snow removal services by fire.

What you had initially thought was an insurmountable problem, Bishop solved in the matter of about fifteen minutes. He walked back up your driveway towards you with the flamethrower perched back against his shoulder as though it were a rifle. You laughed when you saw the cigar hanging loosely from his lips. It wasn’t even lit—you knew he was just doing it because he knew it would look extra badass and he loved getting a good laugh out of you.

He set the flamethrower back into his truck and you walked over to him, unable to stop smiling and shaking your head.

“Well that’s one way of doing things,” you glanced into the bed of his pickup, “Wouldn’t have ever thought to use a flamethrower, myself.”

He chuckled as he pulled you into a hug, “That’s what you’ve got me for, sweetheart. I’m the man with solutions to all of your problems.”

You rolled your eyes at his cockiness but smiled, “Yea, something like that,” you plucked the cigar from his lips, “Pretty sure that’s a giant fire hazard, though,” you tucked it into the pocket of his kutte before leaning in to give him a kiss on the lips, “Thank you, by the way.”

He smiled, “Anything for you.”

“I thought I was just going to have to ask you for a ride to work,” you laughed, “But this works too.”

“I can come and do another sweep later if you want? Just to be safe.”

You shook your head, able to see right through him, “I think I’ll be alright. Go lock that thing back up somewhere that the guys can’t get to it.”

“Yes ma’am,” he pulled you in, kissing you hard on the lips.

“I love you, you arsonist.”

He chuckled, brushing his nose lightly against yours, “I love you too. Let me know when you get to work safely, please.”

“Of course,” you nodded.

You stepped back and watched him climb into his truck. He offered up one small last wave before throwing his truck in reverse and rolling down your driveway. You stood there for a few moments and admired his handiwork, still unable to fully believe what your morning had been like. With a slight shake of your head, you walked over and grabbed your bags from the front step of your house before locking the door. With a slight sigh, you strolled over and hopped into your car. As you turned the key in the ignition, you wondered how many other people weren’t going to make it in to work, or were at least going to be late. You wondered if you were going to tell them how you managed to make it in, or if that was a story you were just going to keep to yourself.