Random headcanons/AUs that won’t get fics anytime soon. If anyone wants to add on/chime in/create something, feel free.
In which Ghost mainly just drooled over guys on instagram and needed a reason to link a million pictures– I mean, uh, you know, a car-stealing gang AU. Those are cool, right?
cw: smoking, guns, gangs, drinking; GTA-style hijinks, blood, minor wounds, explosions
Trott (Rodrigo Castelhano)
if Ross was a MMA fighter
(*drools over Lewis Tan* hello, sir, you’re very fit…)
(*the best ones)
(smoking in just the last one)
Cigar boys because they all smoke cigars, I guess? Don’t actually smoke kids, it’s terrible.
Sips was one of the finest mob bosses of Los Santos. He prided himself on his wealth. But things go sour for Sips, and his reigning crown as the king of Los Santos topples.
The City once more becomes a playground for various gangs to rise up and stake a claim.
One such gang is a trio of lads- amateur filmmakers who were famous for spurious stunts and high-stakes heists. Had Sips been around, they would have given him a run for his money.
But, being as they and Sips were friends, they inherited his money.
The plans fell as such:
Party, Plan (Procrastinate), Punish, Profit
guns, whiskey, cigars, sex, steaks, molotovs, car chases
Ross driving, pedal to the floor in a tight black sedan. Trott firing out the rolled down window, bullets flying. Smith nursing a wound in his leg, bloody bandage tied around it. smashing the window in with the baseball bat (“Smith!” Trott and Ross yell), quickly snagging a half-drunk bottle of port off the floor of the backseat, ripping part of the excess bandage and stuffing it in to make it into a molotov. lighting it, throwing it out the window. bang, whoosh of flame, squealing tires.
“Worked, didn’t it?”
“Shut the fuck up and get us out of here, Ross!”