anyway i live for those moments where ryan and gavin are both fucking wrong but neither of them are backing down or offering compelling evidence for their side so it’s just them yelling at each other for like twenty minutes while everyone else lowkey makes fun of them
Remember that one week where every Rooster Teeth and Achievement Hunter video involved bananas. Like every single video had at least one person eating a banana. There was the Let’s Play where Gavin was a banana. They wore banana-themed shirts, they ate bananas on the various podcasts, at staff meetings. An animated Joel ate a banana in RTAA. And everyone was getting kind of suspicious because an entire company seemed to have suddenly become banana-crazed.
anyway fahc where the mugging gavin joke is still very much a part of it. gavins out with some contacts trying to Do His Damn Job when some teenager runs up shoves him on the ground and steals like forty-six dollars out of his wallet. this happens biweekly.
From the wonderful story “Where the lost go” by @whalehuntingboyfriends
I got commissioned a while ago by @armadil-lauren to made this comic inspired by Geoff and Gavin’s relationship in this story and the song “Dynasty” by miia
This is my first real attempt at comic layout kind of deal and I’m real proud of the result!
i love fahc fics where gavin’s the quintessential hacker of the crew, but what i REALLY love is the idea that gavin’s one of those people who gets really, really annoyed when anybody uses the word “hack” in relation to anything that isn’t hacking
and so of course the others do this all the time to the point of absurdity.
“hacked it,” geoff mutters, grinning, as he signs into his own facebook account
“hacked it,” jack says, unlocking the door to the penthouse
“i’ll be right there, lemme just hack this guy’s face first,” ray says, peering into the scope of his sniper rifle
“here, wait, i’ll hack the security cameras,” michael says, before fucking destroying them all with a sledgehammer
“i can hack the police officers,” ryan offers, armed with a machete of indeterminate origin, is that a pun
Los Santos is a pretty weird place, so of course they’d have one of the most extravagant pride parades ever. They’ve got balloons and floats and the whole nine yards. LSPD is just hoping the FAHC doesn’t use the opportunity to try to rob a bank or something, ya know. What no one is expecting is a sudden rainbow of colored flares shooting over the crowd. And there’s a big explosion as the boys whip out their fireworks launcher that Geoff gave them for the 4th of July. There are fireworks and flares /everywhere/ for a good bit. Then it goes strangely quiet and everyone is tense, waiting to see what the deadliest crew of all time is about to do.
What they don’t expect is for all of them, B Team included, to come sweeping over everyone in their rainbow parachutes. And they’re dropping candy and stolen goods all over, careful to not hurt a soul. It’s a day of pride and they’re not there to ruin anyone’s fun. And if they see someone so much as look at them with disgust for flaunting their pride… oops the fucker is on fire. Was that a flare? And Gavin had managed to hack into every speaker anywhere close to the parade and starts playing Lady Gaga’s Born This Way.
recorded by members of RoosterTeeth and Achievement Hunter
So you know that minecraft episode where the AH guys are building Jeremy’s home in Achievement City? And you know that part where Gavin, Ryan and Michael decide to ASMR, well I decided I wanted to do an animation for that part, so I isolated the audio from the video… and boy, even though it’s meant to be dirty, it sounds way dirtier when it’s just the audio. XD
Where Ryan and Gavin are a package deal before the FAHC
a marauding rumour, notorious from coast to coast, the Vagabond and
the Golden Boy; names that taste like blood. They drift from place to
place in patterns no one else can predict, taking jobs that catch
their fancy, leaving ruined bodies in their wake.
Vagabond is the mercenary, oversized and unforgiving, a masterclass
in brutal power. There are people who kill and then there are
killers, and the Vagabond has never once implied that he didn’t enjoy
his job. His disguise has become an icon, instantly recognised by any
in the know, a shorthand imagine for grisly ends. The mere presence
of the Vagabond sends a shot of dread into even the most experienced
of adversaries, primal fear born from a flawless record, from his
relentless drive and unmatched talent, from the way death bares its
teeth behind his eyes. Only one has laughed in the face of the
mercenary and lived to tell the tale, fondly and at great length.
Golden Boy is the talker, the charmer, the irrepressible deal maker.
He is blinding smiles and quick fingers, pretty knives and prettier
lies. Getting into his good graces is a boon of untold fortune, but
falling from them is a curse few survive. The Golden Boy’s shine
covers a dark streak, an edge of something deeply wicked and always
amused coated in false sweetness, in bubbling laughter and fickle
affections, in deceptively clean hands. Smarter than he’ll ever let
on the Golden Boy is always presented exactly how he means to be,
exactly how he needs to be, and no one sees even a flicker of emotion
he doesn’t intend. It’s easy to see his name in the visible affinity
for precious metals but it’s more than just that; the boy is walking
fortune, a well of good luck and perfect timing that never seems to
run dry - like everything he touches turns to gold.
an unusual partnership, their differences almost perfectly
symmetrical; the shadow and the sun, the apparition and the vision,
the reaper and the siren song. Cold apathy and vicious elation; a
mask to hide emotion and emotions used as a mask. Alone they’d each
be dangerous, together they are an unstoppable force.
that people haven’t tried. Not when they’ve made so many enemies,
when the bounty on their heads could buy small countries and they
serve no one but themselves. And each other. Their only perceivable
failing, that inexplicable devotion, adoration between monsters. It’s
not hard to spot, the ineffable way they’re linked together, a fond
affection beyond any business-only partnership. It’s visible in the
handles of Ryan’s knives, elaborately gilded in gold despite the
utilitarian matte black of all his guns. In the medallion Gavin never
takes off, differentiated from his other jewellery by the intricate
engraving of a distinctive skull. In the way they look at each other,
the way they talk to each other, the way they’ve both given up the
protection of hardened self-interest in favour of vicious loyalty.
Emotions so wildly out of place and yet even this is not the weak
link it should be; the two are rarely separated and never out of
contact, responding to threats against each other with a far greater
degree of horrifying retribution than is ever afforded to a threat
against them both.
many have tried and failed to understand their dynamic, attempting to
pick it apart and unravel hidden weakness. Countless numbers who
think the solution is to kill one, or the other; who’ve somehow
gotten it into their heads that either the Vagabond or the Golden Boy
is more valuable and the other is merely dead weight, easily
are those who claim the Golden Boy is the Vagabond’s pet; pretty and
pampered and merely tolerated by the assassin, more temporary appeal
than true partner. Those are the one’s who’ve seen Ryan huff long
suffering sighs as Gavin grows restless, seen him adopt the tone of a
frustrated parent speaking to an unruly child as he demands patience,
wraps commands in condescending endearments only to crumble into
indulgent acquiescence in the face of exaggerated insult. Who’ve seen
Gavin spin traps out of words then fade into the background while
Ryan does the heavy work, turning his nose up at blood and lamenting
are those who claim the Vagabond is the Golden Boy’s dog; boorish and
fierce and above all obedient. Those are the ones who’ve seen Gavin
command Ryan with a flick of his fingers, slink around the edges as
his bidding was done and offer crooning praise when a bloody head is
dropped at his feet. Who’ve seen the sharp violence of Gavin’s mind,
the way he pushes for slower and crueler and more entertaining; seen
how the Vagabond watches him with adoration in his eyes; a rabid
animal tame only in the presence of a master with equally sharp
is one of the few to see them as they truely are. To understand that
neither rumour was true, that both were, that power flowed equally
between the pair and neither could for one moment be thought useless
without the other. To see that their connection was less weakness
than it was violent strength, and realise that being forcibly
separated would only make them infinitely more volatile. Ramsey
noticed it all, and he wanted. He schemed. He sent out feelers, hints
and suggestions and little incentives. An invitation in blood and
gold and wicked chaos. In the only language they speak.
the Vagabond and the Golden Boy sweep into town Los Santos goes
still, holds its breath, prays to be forgotten. They’re not exactly
trying to be subtle, stories pop up all over the city, a nightmare of
violent shadows and polished gold but they don’t seek him out, so
Geoff waits. Patient despite the way his hair stands on end, the way
the back of his neck itches and he’s deafened by the relentless ticking of his own watch.
less surprising than it should be when they appear in the penthouse
unannounced; they were invited after all, in a manor of speaking, and
Geoff, ever the good host, narrowly prevents his growing crew from launching
into a firefight he’s not entirely confident they’d win. The Vagabond
looms, cold and unrelenting, demanding answers with tangible menace.
The Golden Boy lounges, smirk as lazy as his eyes are sharp, all
obnoxious comments and negligible threat. It’s a test. Geoff Passes.