where's gavin

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.

And then this happened

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.

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This is a surprise project for @whalehuntingboyfriends heyo

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

FAHC Headcanon: Pride Parade

Okay. Imagine. 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.

AH (Achievement Hunter) Cooking Show ASMR
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

They’re 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.

The 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.

The 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.

It’s 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.

Not 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.

So 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 replaced.  

There 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 ruined clothing.

There 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 teeth.

Ramsey 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.

When 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.  

It’s 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.