golden teeths

my new tablet still hasn’t come in

Things I Love About The On The Spot Episode With The Free Play Crew
  • Every Time They’re Talking And The Camera Cuts To Jon With A Look Of Deep Regret
  • Hearing Michael Laughing Like A Maniac From The Audience
  • Hashtag Assplay
  • Team Been Trying To Fuck
  • Meg Shouting “Team Been Trying To Fuck” And Ryan Making A Heart With His Hands Behind Her
  • “This Is What You’re Fighting For; The Golden Gus-”
    Ryan Elbows Jon And Takes It “We Won!”
    They All Start Singing The Theme Like That Was All Planned
  • Ryan Covertly Taking, Dismantling And Replacing The Golden Gus
  • “White People Can Be Bait” And Then Everyone Loses It
  • As Soon As Ryan Says “Find A Corpse” Mariel’s Exasperated “Goddammit Ryan”
  • Ryan Awkwardly Going Along With The Sponsor Read
  • When Ryan Loses The Screw From Gus And Starts Looking For It Under His Chair, Confusing Everyone
  • “Morgue- Ah- Er- Meg!”
  • “Why The Fuck Would He Find Romance In Deep Space”
  • “I Tried This With Ray And He Betrayed Me Too, Go With It
  • When Meg’s Yelling At Ryan For Not Describing A Romance And He Recoils With The Most Amused Grin
  • When Meg Flicks Ryan To Make Him Stop
  • Mariel And Tyler Dying As They Try To Describe Kindergarten Cop Without Just Describing Kindergarten Cop
  • Ryan Singing Africa By Toto While Being Shocked
  • Ryan “How Many More Do I Have To Do?”
    Jon “Alright You’re Done”
    Ryan Hits The Button Again “I LIKE IT”
  • Tyler Being Confused About The Alphabet
  • Everything About Ryan And Meg’s Roleplay
  • “OPPRESSIVE BITCH”
  • When The Golden Gus Falls Apart And Everybody Loses It
  • They’re All Just Cheering And Laughing Like Kids Who Overthrew The Teacher
  • “It’s Finally Over, We Can Leave
    “NO MORE ON THE SPOT”
  • When They All Run Off And Jon’s Just Left Staring Into The Abyss Behind The Credits
  • The Sheer Amount Of Screenshots Of Ryan And Meg Laughing It Has Blessed Me With

Just testing out how Gavin’s little dude will move. You know, trying to give him character/ personality. BOy I haven’t animated in a long time; getting those legs to look right was like reinventing the wheel. 

It’s far from perfect but this project is gonna be anything but perfect anyway lol so. 

more coming  s o o n 

anonymous asked:

If you wanted to i'd love to see Gav using his charm and wiles to get the others lads out of trouble somehow, maybe flirting them out of some kind of mess or something?

Michael and Jeremy have been dealing with a particularly unpleasant crew, forced into a fake civility every couple of weeks when they go together to collect shipments or demand payments. It’s the sort of thing Gavin would normally be involved with, at least in the early days of establishing a relationship, but no one really wants him near this one at all; the crew in question is incredibly unstable, more mercenaries in an ever-shifting arrangement than anything like the close-knit loyalty of the FAHC, and their leader is absolutely the worst of them. Some smarmy bastard with a stupid name neither Jeremy nor Michael deign to remember – Taylor or Tristen or Troy – he’s always intentionally rude, stopping just shy of openly mocking the Fake’s with an arrogance that even his own people seem to despise.

It would be so much easier to just kill him and move on but no matter how much Michael and Jeremy argue Geoff won’t have it. Something about relations, how for all Toby(?) is an asshole he’s got enough power, a nasty enough crew, that it’s smarter to just wait them out for now, get whatever they can out of them before it all goes south. Which is easy enough to say when Geoff’s got very little to do with them, but nonetheless Michael and Jeremy suck it up, go to every dealing with clenched teeth and itchy trigger fingers, and life goes on.

After one such meeting, maybe three months after this unwilling relationship began, Michael and Jeremy drive out to meet Gavin for drinks, Jeremy tuning out as Michael rants the whole way to the bar because all he wants is a beer or twelve, wanted to just go to their normal dive but Gavin had insisted on coming out to this fancy yuppie shithole. It’s still full of crooks but mostly the rich, stuck-up variety instead of honest thugs, the kind of place that likely only stocks pretentious brews, but Gavin offered to pay so here they were.

Gavin’s already there when they arrive, leaning carelessly against the bar, all fake flirty smiles and inviting angles as he holds court, surrounded by half a dozen admirers - though two in particular seem to be jockeying for his attention. Thing One had just turned to growl something at Thing Two when Gavin notices his Lads coming through the door, lazy showman grin brightening into something more genuine as he shakes off his fans and flounces over. The group is less than pleased, more than one throwing absolutely filthy looks that have Michael sneering nastily back while Jeremy not-so-innocently flexes beside him, neither making any effort to hide their weapons and quickly sending the one idiot who tried to follow into a hasty retreat. Gavin just laughs, grabs a tray of beers before towing his boys back towards a booth.

That should really be that, except apparently Gavin’s not quite finished with whatever game he’s playing. It’s clear his focus is still on Thing’s One and Two rather than the conversation happening around him; he asks all the right questions, hums sympathetically in all the right places, but nothing gives away Gavin’s drifting interests quite as much as the palpable feeling of having his undivided attention.  Michael asks, Gavin ignores him in favour of throwing an all too familiar smile towards the bar, and Jeremy groans, thunking his head against the table and wishing he’d just gone home.

It’s not genuine interest, there’s nothing honest in the way Gavin’s eyes narrow, nothing sweet in the sharpness of his grin, which is just as well really because Gavin certainly knows how to pick them. Thing One is gorgeous in a poisonous kind of way, tight black clothes and blood red lips only accentuated by the wicked looking scar curving across her cheek. Thing Two isn’t quite so put together but is no less imposing, big and blonde and definitely armed.

They both tracked Gavin’s movement across the room like starving dogs, sneering and snapping at one another as they turn back to their place at the bar where they’d obviously been sitting together before Gavin stuck his big nose between them. Jeremy and Michael toss each other a glance, long suffering but confident; it wouldn’t be pretty but presuming it was two on two they could take them. That’s the grim reality of drinking with Gavin when he’s in one of these moods; there’s no saying there will be a fight, but you’ve always got to be ready for the moment he tires of civilised society and pushes someone into violence just because he can.

And Gavin is definitely in a mood, openly playing the two against each other every time he passes on his way to the bar; brushing against one, flashing her a secret little smile, only to make eyes at the other on his way back, the man half rising from his stool as Gavin laughs and trots back to the booth. When Thing One ducks into the bathroom Gavin steals her seat, leans right into Two’s space and orders them each three shots before slinking off again. When Thing Two walks off to answer his phone Gavin’s back to buy One a drink, something straight and dark and far more impressive than his own neon cocktail.

So goes the rest of the hour; it’s blindingly obvious by now, at least to anyone on the outside, that Gavin is driving headfirst into one hell of a fight with no sign of hitting the breaks. His admirers are getting steadily drunker, louder and nastier with one another as they try to compete, and Gavin just keeps throwing fuel on the fire.

It finally comes to a head when, on yet another bar run, Gavin brushes past them both and zeroes in on a third man who’d just arrived, abandoning coy touches and heated looks for his thickest accent and most charming smile. The three at the bar clearly knew one another, the Things had been friendly enough when greeting the third, but the longer Gavin stands there chattering away the cooler their interactions become, shoulders growing stiff and tight as fists clench and voices rise.

Seemingly oblivious Gavin keeps stirring the pot, whispering something to one, winking at another, brushing off someone’s reaching hand only to skate fingers down the other’s arm, until eventually he tosses his head and stalks off in a huff, triumphant little smirk sneaking across his face as an all-out fight breaks out behind him.

Michael, who’d been growing snippier and snippier all night, is fed up with pandering to Gavin’s nonsense when he and Jeremy actually had to work today. He gets himself going on tirade about just wanting to drink and forget the assholes Geoff has them dealing with, not watch Gavin flutter his eyes at idiots and destroy their friendships for his own sick amusement. Jeremy tries to agree wholeheartedly but Gavin interrupts him with an exaggerated pout that quickly bubbles into laughter as he croons back, as infuriating as ever, aw Bois, don’t I always do right by you?

Timing as spot on as always Michael doesn’t even get to snap a reply before an almighty crash has the three of them spinning around just in time to see Mystery Man #3 tripping over the floored bar stool, turning just far enough in their direction to reveal himself as none other than Todd (Tommy? Theo?). He’s reaching into his jacket in a way that has half the bar twitching towards their own holsters but its already over, Thing Two grabbing at his arms while Thing One ducks in from behind, rapid jerky motion of her arm unmistakable as she makes good use of a knife.

There’s shouting now, people moving in every direction as even the bartenders pull out weapons but Michael and Jeremy just turn back to Gavin, eerily synchronized in their surprise, and Gavin smiles. Climbs to his feet and buttons his jacket as casual as you please, all C’mon lads it’s getting a bit too loud in here innit? Like the bane of their last few months isn’t bleeding out on the floor, like Jeremy isn’t still open mouthed in shock, like Michael isn’t choking back laughter all vicious and brilliant, adoring affection so familiar on his grinning face.

Tomorrow Geoff will get a phone call. Will hear that Travis was taken out in some kind of scuffle, died slow and bloody in a bar just outside the city. He’ll hear that it was an inside job, some escalation of a drunken argument between Travis’ people, that their whole crew is in uproar and already splintering apart, not much of a threat to anyone besides each other. Geoff will know that despite their desire Michael and Jeremy couldn’t have had anything to do with it, death witnessed by far too many to be a frame-up, will know that even Gavin, who’d been sniffing around the deal ever since his precious Lads started complaining, can’t possibly have forced Travis’ crewmates to kill him. And yet, tomorrow Geoff will glare at the three flopped all over his couch, faux surprise at the news doing nothing to hide the way they’re as unapologetically self-satisfied as overgrown cats, and will know with the absolute surety of any harried parent that somehow, in some way, this mess was absolutely their fault.

For now, though, three friends spill laughing out of the bar, hopped up on petty vengeance and unmatched camaraderie, on the sweet victory of their chosen reality; the night is young, the city is theirs, and the Lad’s remain untouchable.

Polish Gothic
  • You live in a block of flats. All your friends live in blocks of flats. You might as well have been living in the very same block of flats and never noticed it. 
  • Your local grocery store is called Leviathan. The cashier bares her golden teeth at you. It takes you a while to realize it’s a smile. Or is it?
  • Old men are drinking on a bench in the park. They’ve been there for a while. They’ve been there your whole life. They stare at you with hungry eyes as you hurry past them.
  • They’re building a new fancy skyscraper in the city centre… Or so they say. You only see a black pit in the ground, but you’re too afraid to ask somebody if they see the same thing.
  • You somehow know Russian. You don’t know how or when you’ve learned it. It might not even be Russian. How are you supposed to find out?
  • Where were your grandparents during the war? How did they survive? You have no idea. You suspect you come from a family of ghosts. “Don’t we all?” says the Mickiewicz statue as you walk by.
  • You’ve only ever been on schooltrips to churches and graveyards, and you kind of like it. You never understood what’s the big fuss about the living.