#*･༓☾ grand theft auto v! night lights shine on vespucci.

[moonrevolutions]

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ ❝go!❞ ✧ sadie & vi.

౨ৎ ˖°.⋆.˚ @wildlcck asked ♡ 'i'm not gonna lie… i want that leg'. ft. lcd soundsystem / ❝daft punk is playing at my house.❞

❝Same,❞ Virote wistfully responded, taking in one, big drag on his cigarette before tossing it to the pavement and crushing it with his heel. Right into smithereens. It was past March, but there was still a weird chill in the city, and poppies were blooming only in places where the sunlight reached around the parks and beaches. It was a beautiful afternoon. They had done everything—drive through Vespucci, haunt the cafes in Mirror Park, have a couple of drinks in the hills.

They were loitering around a studio lot, now. Around the Sam Austin Memorial Building. One of the executive producers of a small, independent film, Martin Guthrie, meandered around the trailer, barking orders at whoever the fuck. This particular guy had a fake appendage. Virote wanted it ( as a trophy, for some sick reason. ) ❝Hey! I have an idea. I distract him, then you take it. I mean he… Just has it there. On a table. Take it, run, I'll drop some people, we'll get in the car, and then flee. How about that? You know, I'd usually feel bad about something like this. But... Mr. Guthrie's a dick that votes liberterian, so who gives a shit.❞

[moonrevolutions]

Who is Michael? What does he mean to you?

°✩₊˚.⋆ ft. @rcckstars because i love love!

❝Michael? Well… That's the love of my life.❞ Ew, he thought to himself. He felt yucky, in a ' who do you like, who do you love! ' playground crush kind of way that was a little too sweet. ❝Not many people like him because he's grouchy. Rude, sometimes. Hot-headed and his sarcasm makes it hard to talk to him, sometimes. Simultaneously an open book while still being THE most guarded person I've ever met. Even then, I love him. He's always been sweet to me. Not sure why... But, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth. It's hard loving Michael. He has a lot of baggage. However, like, I think he's worth the work it takes. I like those moments when it's a little quiet on Vespucci around 7am and we hold hands. He means the world to me. I hope he feels the same way.❞

[moonrevolutions]

What do you think of Jimmy De Santa

°✩₊˚.⋆ feat. a verse with @rcckstars also wow this little man is brutal.

❝This question feels like a fuckin' setup. You know I'm gonna say some off-the-rip shit and then sound mean, so I'll just calibrate my mouth before I answer.❞ Only a little. Virote's ability to fine-tune his thoughts before saying them wasn't great. Wasn't even good. ❝He's okay, even though he's the reason why the Power Rangers have to shout their colors, even though his tattoos look like they were done for $20 and a blunt by an ex-convict named Connor McBurger down on the corner of Vespucci. I don't hate him, even though he's like someone injected cheap beer and the vomit of a regretful night into a sausage and gave it sentience. He's okay. Definitely holds his pencil like it's a smoked turkey leg when he writes. I have stronger opinions on wheat cereals.❞

[moonrevolutions]

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ ❝afternooning.❞ ❀ andreas & vi.

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆ @vendettavalor asked ⊹ “There has to be a better way for me to learn Cantonese. I’m not sure I can take much more of the Duolingo owl threatening suicide because I keep forgetting to do five minute lessons on my break.” - Andreas. ft. stefaloo / ❝eyes for you.❞

❝Okay, well. I'm sure my threats don't help.❞ PRACTICE YOUR CANTONESE OR I'LL KICK YOUR NUTS, he'd text around 1:20PM every day ( except the weekends, Andreas was spared then. ) They were at a dumpling spot right off of Vinewood Boulevard, veering a bit into Mirror Park. It was the afternoon after an overnight shower of rain over the city, the ground starting to dry. Virote saw sunlight reflected in puddles from their table and droplets dripping from the tips of palm tree leaves nearby. It was nice out. Good day for a date when they both didn't have much to do—Virote wasn't on some set, Andreas wasn't being muled around for Steve Haines or Dave or whoever the fuck.

If they were a normal couple, they could do this regularly.

He grabbed for a bottle of black vinegar, only to pour too much on his plate much to his chagrin. Then, he reached out to pluck a rice dumpling from a plate they shared. ❝What're you learning Cantonese for, anyway? Some government stuff? Also, lemme see your phone! I wanna see how bad your Duolingo streak is.❞

[moonrevolutions]

🌼 / from mike (got to be a rose smh at his ol classic ass sksk <3)

°✩₊˚.⋆ @rcckstars. meme. still accepting!

They stood in the De Santa household driveway when Michael handed Virote a rose. The petals, egg yolk yellow and velvety, looked like they came from the Daisy Dukes Flower Boutique—expensive, right on Vinewood Boulevard. All of the stars got their flowers from there when it was time for a birthday or someone getting out of rehab or some shit like that. Smelled like how he felt about their relationship. Pretty and romantic. Simple. Loving.

Unlike the daggers being glared by Amanda at the window.

Virote turned his head and made direct eye-contact with her, almost in a split-second display of dominance, before turning back to Michael. ❝It's so beautiful, Michael. Look, it matches your pocket square.❞ He lightly tapped the rose once against Michael's chest, near said pocket square. ❝So, are you taking me somewhere nice? It's too early to get dinner... Movies?❞

[moonrevolutions]

'hey. i'm moving in. for at least a couple of days. or weeks. or months... is that cool? i'm, like, so over my family's bullshit. they're just so fucking fucked!'

bearing two bottles of wine, chips ahoy and trailing a tiny, battered, pink suitcase in her wake (the remaining diamantes on it just about spell STAR), she stands in virote's doorway, mascara trails upon her face. looking very much like the lost little girl she is and may always be, at heart

'i brought snacks. and wine. that's not his name, obvs. virote, meet my new baby- tito!'

oh, and she also happens to be carrying an impossibly small chihuahua in a sweater within the tote that's slung over her shoulder, emblazoned with NASTY in baby pink. / a random trace for v JHDSFSDF

°✩₊˚.⋆ @rcckstars bustin' in...!

Thunder shook the entire condo as he stood in the kitchen, knife working through herbs, vegetables, and whatever else. He felt calm, he felt restless—he really had no idea what he was feeling, considering the weather was pretty erratic for Los Santos, with a cold snap and inevitable flash flooding on the outskirts from the pouring rain—while he focused on cobbling together a meal that made sense. Winter melon soup. Dumplings. Rice, maybe. Or, vermicelli. Something. Anything. At least it was quiet.

Then, came Tracey. Absolutely fuming ( over some bullshit, probably. )

But, hey, she brought a dog! And, his name was Tito ( he would kill for this little ass dog )! Virote immediately made a beeline to one of the lower cabinets for a couple of metal bowls for him, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. That was probably Michael calling.

❝Okay,❞ he said, almost flatly. Not out of disinterest… But, this has happened at least twenty times before. It would happen again. ❝I'll, uh…❞ Have to call Michael and cancel that date. ❝You hungry? I'm making dinner. Get Tito some food from the pantry by the bathroom and make yourself comfy. Tell me what happened.❞

The phone in his pocket buzzed again. Michael, please give it a rest.

[moonrevolutions]

♡ ˚‧⁺ °.☾ michael & vi / ❝11:41pm.❞

✧˖°. @rcckstars​ asked ❝Let me drive you home.❞ meme. still accepting! ft. ❝cool night.❞ by paul davis.

❝Are you sure...? I can call a taxi, it's not a big deal. I don't want you driving when it's raining so hard, 'cause that's dangerous. Besides, your couch is sooooooo comfy, I don't wanna move,❞ Virote said, every word coming out of his mouth slurring a little into the next. The house was warm. Much warmer than it was outside—it was surprisingly cold for Los Santos that evening, even with the downpour. Rainy nights, though rare, were usually still lukewarm and uncomfortably tepid. Whenever it rained in LS, most people freaked out and drove like shit ( much shittier than their usual. )

Virote had spent the entire evening drinking canned pinot and watching movies on Michael's couch. A couple of William Friedkin and George Roy Hill flicks. Classics. Michael liked those a lot; not Virote's favorite time period for cinema, but he was open-minded about everything.

It was about half an hour 'til midnight, now. Tracey was out with friends under the promise of coming home before 1am, Jimmy was holed up in his own room, and Amanda was... Well, wherever. Probably out fucking the yoga instructor. Virote peeled himself from the couch and raised both hands above his head, stretching towards the ceiling with a yawn. ❝Alright. I guess we can head out, though…❞ He took two half steps back, unsteady on his feet. The wine drunkness suddenly rushed to his head. ❝We'll continue our little movie night some other time, I guess. I'm kinda bummed we didn't get to watch Slaughterhouse-Five, though. That one looks interesting. Jesus... I feel like shit. Hangover's gonna be brutal.❞

[moonrevolutions]

mistletoe / mike? 😳 aGSDFDF

°✩₊˚.⋆ @rcckstars. meme. still accepting!

Los Santos was boring as hell around the holidays, Virote learned early on, even though he didn't even care much about Christmas—the city's Mediterranean climate kept the landscapes relatively green throughout the year, and December was no exception. It wasn't a winter wonderland like one would associate with the month. Grassy lawns, shrubbery, and flowering plants littered the path they walked, along with lights strung through trees and miscellaneous tchotchkes that lit up their way on a semi-lukewarm 7:29pm evening in the Los Santos Botanical Garden above the hills; as they weaved around various paths while Virote pointed to all of the different little displays, they meandered winding trails until they ended up under an arch with a single mistletoe hanging from it.

He could've been real bold with it, too. Virote always wondered what it'd be like to kiss Michael, despite the… Situation ( that situation being a marriage about a decade past its expiration date. ) He was terribly attracted to him. In a way that almost made himself uncomfortable, but not uncomfortable enough to not put out signals of said attraction; at this point, it was obvious. What was understood didn't need to be explained.

Virote looked around, left and right. Eyes drifting from a statue of an elf holding a candle, to a lit up bush bright with red flowers and ornaments. Not many other people were around, since they were so deep in the sprawling, few acres of the garden—most others opted to hover around the pond near the entrance, where there were light shows and carts selling merch.

It didn't take much coaxing to reel Michael in by the collar of his polo, Virote making up for their height difference. Without saying anything, he pressed a kiss right to Michael's cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. On the left. That's what Americans did with mistletoe, right? Kiss underneath it? The kiss didn't last long, but it lingered enough for Michael to get the point. Virote wanted to really kiss him on the lips, but… Circumstances.

❝Wanna go get dinner? I know this place that has curry that kinda tastes like my grandma's.❞ He asked the question innocently while pulling way. Yeah, why not? Why not act like nothing happened? Virote liked playing coy, anyway.