oh my god why is Michael such a horrible trash compactor of terrible decisions and negative feelings?? UGH! MICHAEL EVERYTHING IS YOUR FAULT
I drew this comic literally years ago except for ONE panel of Michael, and never bothered to finish it until now, lol. The work is kind of stale by my current standards now, but I love??? Pablo Neruda?????? his poetry is the most cutting??? If you aren’t familiar with his work and enjoy feeling every horrible and glorious feeling, look that dude up! This shining endorsement for this amazing master poet is commin at you from a sourpuss cave troll who Doesn’t Even Like Poetry, so, take that as you will.
PS: hello GTAV fandom it is me, Julia, still alive and well! Soon I’ll be launching into a brand new printed north yankton zine project (!!!) and so! Digging up this little old moody oneshot again seemed timely.
i am so about the fake ah crew being just like. incredibly nonchalant/cavalier/offhand about their violence because it allows for moments of hilarity that mirror ones we see in their let’s plays:
“don’t you think we should try, you know, getting through this without murdering everybody?” jeremy asks before he knows better. michael snaps his fingers. “oh, shit, you’re right! i forgot something.” “what?” “shut the hell up.”
gavin standing up on a crowded bus and announcing like a tour guide, “and on your right, you’ll see the tallest building in los santos. also on your right, you’ll see the exit. which you’ll want to be taking. because we’re stealing this bus. for god’s sake– leave, you lot, on your left you’ll see a massive wall of bodies if you don’t get the bloody hell off the bus.” “and directly in front of you, you’ll see the biggest donut in los santos.” “michael, you’re pointing at me.” “i know what i said.”
geoff is yelling at ryan over the phone demanding to know where he is and then yelling more when he finds out ryan’s off doing hitman jobs independently. eventually ryan’s just like, “would you just relax and let me kill for money?!”
jack stops a hostage from pulling a gun during a heist and tsks. “oh, honey. your next of kin is going to be so embarrassed for you when the paramedics tell her how you died.”
ray’s on a sniping job and the guy he’s about to kill is standing in front of a window; the sun comes out and suddenly bathes him in this angelic halo of light. ryan’s watching for shits and giggles. “that looks like divine intervention if i’ve ever seen it. that’s some symbolism right there.” ray rolls his eyes. “screw you, symbolism,” he says, and pops off the shot.
gavin’s playing with a new shotgun during a heist and is amazed/grossed out to discover that it can blow limbs/heads/etc off of bodies if shot with care. geoff comes in when he hears all the noise and is sort of like “what the fuck, gavin” in general. gavin waves away the interruption impatiently. “oi, i’m operating,” he says, punctuating it by blowing the leg off a corpse. “amputation!” ryan says, delighted, when he walks in. gavin beams. “yeah, exactly!” (”you guys are fucking gross and i’m going home.”)
michael’s gunning down cops when his gun malfunctions. “performance issues,” jeremy comments, mock-sympathetic. “oh, what, you know from experience?” and then they’re just bickering about erectile dysfunction, heedless of the officers in various stages of injury/death around them
geoff is holding some people hostage in a bank; a dude in the corner is murmuring oh my god, oh my god, oh my god and geoff grins at jack. “y’know, if the whole ‘life of crime’ shtick doesn’t work out, i think i have a career as a pastor.” “yeah?” “yeah. for some reason, people get awfully fuckin’ religious when they’re around me.”
Summary: You’ve just moved into your new home in Hell’s Kitchen. On your first night you can’t help but witness a lanky, purple suited man being thrown through a door down the hall from where you’re staying. You meet one of your neighbours during the incident, and didn’t expect to find people who also have abilities of their own…
Summary: You’re a foreign exchange student who’s been granted a scholarship to attend the University of San Andreas, Los Santos (ULSA). Tracey De Santa signed herself up as a volunteer for one foreign student to reside at her home for as long as they need (without asking her parent’s permission of course). You’ve been randomly selected by the university to reside at Miss Tracey De Santa’s home until your studies end. Good luck!