#gtafest 2024

[tacticalhimbo]

HAPPY HOLIDAYS @despitethecold ! I come bearing a gift for you, courtesy of @gtafest !

Your prompts were GORG and I loved them all, but I saw your suggestion of a very Lester Christmas(tm), and decided to give him some love because he's underrated imo <3

Also because complex holiday feelings and complex feelings surrounding disability... felt 😔✌️

But I promise this has a happy ending :} Hope you enjoy it!

WORDS: 1.1K FANDOM(S): Grand Theft Auto 5 WARNINGS: Mentions of Internalized Ableism, Post-Game Plot (Ending C/Deathwish)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Let me know if you’d like a more permanent copy of this, too! I’m always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do!

[NEOCITIES MIRROR]

Life keeps ticking. That’s what everyone says, isn’t it? That life’s some great climb; you only get one, so live it to your fullest! Hell, he brought into that ideal briefly–thought it would make things in his personal life better. But it didn’t. And now that the snow began to fall in the once tropical streets of Los Santos, and the neighboring homes began to glisten with multicolored strings and twinkling lights, Lester realized that yet another year had rushed by.

He was just another year closer to the inevitable.

It hurt when it’d hit him. Punched him in the gut as the realization sunk and kept sinking. It was going to be harder to get out of the house now, more than it already was given the crumbling steps in front of his home and the lack of reliable transportation now that… he was alone. Back to ol’ reliable: Solitude. Isolation. The status of a ghost, as everyone else had to go off the radar after The Big One™. What was done was done, and it was done for good. Michael and Trevor seemed to have made up enough to not kill each other in the end–truly a Christmas miracle, if one was to ask Lester–and Franklin decided that he was done with this sort of life. He struck gold, and decided after all the shit he’d been through… enough was enough. He wasn’t going to throw it all away because he got a luckier break than his counterparts. Or so Lester had thought, until he’d caught a glimpse of movement outside the door. A blip on the security screen. Tired hands reached up to adjust thinly-framed glasses, eyes squinting to account for the change in focus. When they did, a finger slid to enable the microphone.

“Franklin? What are you doing here?”

The bundled-up man outside looked around, then up to the corner. His head tilted until he’d noticed the camera staring back at him.

“Hey! Lester. What’s good man, was wonderin’ what you were up to. I was in the area and… you know, figured I’d drop by.” 

Not a lie; not the whole truth. The fact of the matter is… Franklin missed the camaraderie, despite the intense arguments and the chaos that often ensued. He missed the opportunity; the feeling of being busy and having a purpose beyond everything he’d settled into. One thing was certain enough, though: There was no way in Hell he was going home for the holidays. Denise would have his head if he’d suddenly shown up after fucking off to his new home in the hills��after all, she’d finally gotten what she wanted: peace and quiet and a home to herself. Lamar and him were still on rocky terms after everything, too. Sure, they’d more or less made up, but there was still tension in the air; a stiff sense of betrayal that’d left a bitter taste on their tongues. And beyond that… The Unholy Trinity were all Franklin really had. With them gone their separate ways, the best option–besides spending the holidays miserable and alone–was with the one connection he knew he had.

And it went both ways.

“Alright, fine, come in.” A few button presses. A click. The door unlocked and Franklin was more than happy to step into the warmth that’d awaited. Hands finally left his pockets, rubbing together rapidly to take it all in. The friction alone generated enough heat to warm his palms, whilst the interior’s stiffness brought the backs to an equal temperature.

“Surprised nobody else stopped by. Woulda thought…”

Lester wheeled himself from the computer and to the cluttered living area. When he got to the threshold, he felt along the wall until the hilt of his cane fell into his hands. He took a moment, adjusting the placement, before using it to pull himself up and lazily push the chair back.

“Michael’s been handling things with his family, and Trevor… well… he’s doing his own thing I’m sure.”

“You doin’ your own thing too?”

“Something like that. You know, I’m… surprised you’re here. Figured you would have found some chaos to dig yourself into.”

A lighthearted, albeit stilted, laugh from Franklin. “Nah… Flyin’ solo for now.”

Curiosity. “And your first thought was to come here to resolve that?”

Well, when Lester put it like that… it sounded pathetic. Sad. Bitter. And perhaps it was. The subtle disavowing of his own worth, and the subtle chiding of Franklin’s loneliness. There was recognition in it. An intimate understanding of what it felt like to be alone while the world around you kept moving. Franklin sighed and shrugged, finding himself skirting around the question in an attempt to guide the conversation elsewhere.

“Well, it’s on the way up to Mirror Park. When Lamar and I were kids, we’d always walk up that way and look at all the decorations people put up–’course I drove down here and parked somewhere else. Wasn’t about to haul my ass down from the Hills–but he’s got his own thing going, and sometimes walking alone’s just… you know, relaxing.”

“Can think as much or as little as you want, that it?” A subtle vulnerability; an acknowledgment of understanding.

“Exactly.” A pause. “You wanna come? Could be fun laughing at all the tacky blow-up Santas and shit.”

And as much as Lester wanted to say yes, he knew all too well going out in the cold and walking was not an option. Nowadays, walking was hardly an option as is; everything fucking hurt and the more he lingered on his feet idly chatting about the prospect, the more he felt like just laying down and trying to sleep it off. Was it the best way to manage the pain? No, but it beat the amount of medications he was taking just to ‘stay functional’ while overseeing the Unholy Trinity’s shenanigans. Now, it was down to the bare essentials, and even then…

“Look, Franklin, I appreciate the gesture. Really. But… Ah, fuck it.” 

It wasn’t worth rehashing. Not to him; Franklin, however, noticed the hesitation backing his words. The subtle but visible discomfort as Lester pressed on toward the door.

“Hey–hold up. Let me go get my car.” A pause. “Does your chair fold?”

He paused.

“That old thing? Never got around to getting one that could. Figured most of my work was done in-house and I’ve never been interested in going around the city and witnessing all these… whiny West Coast douchebags.” A subtle smile followed by laughter from Franklin.

“Man, fuck you–this whiny West Coast douchebag’s trying to be a good friend and this is the thanks I get?” A lighthearted jab–Franklin was already in the midst of pulling out his keys and stepping out the door. “Listen. I’ll go get my car, ride us up to the little lot by the park, and we’ll take it from there, yeah?”

“... Alright, fine. Only because you twisted my arm. And, uh, thanks Franklin.”

[notmadsimon]

🌿 Happy Halloween, GTA fandom!

This is my work in mind blowing marvelous Lie Still Fanzine (2024) 🪨

> Make sure to follow the link to see the mesmerizing horror of other participants' fan art and fanfiction!

Special thanks to @nevergonnasimpyoumikey @thenoman-sland @gtafest for organizing this project 🎃

[danidfordangercreativestuff]

gtafest valentine's day gift 2024

hiya, @hanajoyishere (i can't tag your blog for some reason)! here's your valentine's day gift for @gtafest. glad to see i'm not the only one who enjoys what tommy and lance had going on in vice city lol. that back stab hurt badly oml. i hope you enjoy this short piece i wrote. fair warning, it includes some homophobia since even though i like the idea of tommy having a thing for lance, i also think he would struggle with denial and internalized homophobia in general.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. One of the first people I met when I came into town, one of the first guys who I considered a true friend, stabbed me in the back. The prick had taken the sharpest knife he could find, brandished it, and shoved it right through my back, spurting blood everywhere.

As I stand there listening to Lance speaking belligerently and even with some cockiness, I can’t help but take note of his appearance. Ever since I’d met him in that alleyway, I did actually think he was a good dresser. Even though I prefer dressing casual, even I can recognize a good suit when I see one. Not that that makes me a queer or anything. But…I also can’t deny that Lance is a good looking guy, and the way he carries himself, although annoying at times, is kind of charming in its own weird way. Too bad that was all bullshit at the end of the day. Earlier he looked playful and laid back, but now he’s just frowning and looking at me like this is his way of getting revenge on me. But why? Sure, I gave him a hard time here and there, but that was only because he needed to get off his lazy and ungrateful ass for crying out loud.

And then it hits me. He probably felt like he was being treated like crap under my shoes, like he was nothing compared to me. That’s not true, but he doesn’t know that. How could he? I’d be pissed too if someone talked to me like that. I’d string them up by their neck and watch them hang. But it’s not like I’m in love with the guy. Far from it. Being with Mercedes is all the proof needed to show that I’m straight. Who cares that I feel more connected to Lance and would charge into a fight with him no matter what. I ain’t no damn fag. Still, this hurts. More memories of us hanging out and talking come back to my mind: him laughing and me laughing along with him, us having each other’s backs when we took down that idiot Diaz, and me literally saving his life. Not to mention, why did he have to make that joke about us locking lips? Is he a fruit or something? 

Goddamn it, Lance…

Remorse for both what I did to him and what I know I have to do now washes over me. A part of me doesn’t want to do it, but another part is demanding that it must be done and that there's no other way, at least when it comes to being able to keep my sense of dignity and pride intact. I load my gun with a heavy heart.

I didn’t see this coming, but I should have, and now I have to deal with the consequences.