#where is hous :(

[charmac]

On Sunny, sometimes sacrificing the idea of what’s funniest to prioritise what makes most sense for the story they’re telling … EXACTLY.

[mutantfactor]

Fangs of Fortune 𓆩𓆪 Zhuo Yichen & Zhao Yuanzhou

[cdramastuff]

Fangs of Fortune - Episode 23.

[feral-geges]

Fangs of Fortune Ep.12 (2024)

[alipeeps]

New trailer for Love in the Clouds - Hou Minghao

[dubaipenthouseupdates]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE | The Thing Lay Still (1/2)

[tenwhiteandalusians]

and then no one said anything about the fact that if i watched ONE MORE episode tenax pulls a "i'm not angry i'm just disappointed i'm hurt" about scorpus signing with the white faction.

[iamthetruestrepairman]

I have the autistic collector / wants stuff impulse but I’m so scared of people knowing my interests that I never even use my “for fun stuff” money to buy anything. I’ve never bought anything related to anything i enjoy ever and it gnaws at me a little

[jils-things]

OK I HAVE A FEW MINS TO SPARE BEFORE MY ACCOUNTING EXAM. LOOK AT THEM LOOKLOOK WWIIWIWIW

no thoughts head empty only EGGDOGS 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 WKWKWKWKWKWKSK MWAS THEM ALL WAIWAIWIAIWIAIA

[xinyuehui]

So they go on movie dates in their free time? 👀

[hurglewurm]

idk if it's the grad school, 3 hour lectures getting to me, or the fact that i have to be on campus for 12 straight hours every thursday but goddamn i just want to sleep. and sleep and sleep. and then wake up and draw every animal and fanart for things only i have witnessed and NOT do my readings

[vanus-galerion]

TALLY OVER HERE STANDING IN THE CORNER LIKE “YOU WEREN’T EXPECTING ME TO FIGHT A DRAGON WERE YOU?”

[pd3thoughts]

Irreplaceable

Or, Chains thinks about Houston.

(Hi @neomineom ! I was your secret Santa! Sorry for taking years, it wasn’t canon compliant so I scrapped it and restarted. Among other real life things. it was totally my fault! I hope that I got your boys right and did them justice 👀)

written for @paydaysecretsanta

// canon compliant fluff with a bit of angst :)

Chains remembers Houston from before they both were in the PAYDAY gang. It was back in the early 2000s, when Houston would unlock the back door every morning so that they wouldn’t bother any customers while talking. The younger man didn’t really speak all that much, but Chains hadn’t minded. He’d met much worse, and the glint in Houston’s eye hinted to his amusement.

Houston was stoic from the beginning, forced to grow up in a household that had no place for a kid. Chains could put two and two together just by the way he mentioned his brother, those glimpses into complex feelings caused by years of neglect. He “had no chill,” as Joy used to say. It might’ve looked like that, but she didn’t know how he was back then.

The Ghost was almost completely silent, immediately getting down to business. He made no time for small talk, finding every conversation meaningless if it didn’t have a point. Chains admired the way that Houston was serious about his work, but it wouldn’t have killed the guy to loosen up a little. Chains had—for lack of a better term—annoyed Houston into relaxing every so often. When the younger man would roll his eyes, the veteran counted that as a victory.

At first, Houston was visibly irritated by Chains’ antics, having half a mind to kick him out of the range. Chains’ disrupted his usual quiet, but Houston began to grow used to it. He didn’t know when it happened, but he had started to expect his presence.

Chains started off by looking at the merchandise, then moved on to talking about other weapons and what Houston used to clean them out. The Armorer, knowing full well how to do it by himself, watched the younger man dismantle a desert eagle with deft fingers.

…When Bain chose Houston as a stand-in for Hoxton, Chains had agreed to it. He had seen Houston’s potential in how he applied himself and in the way he handled his weapons. (It was a mistake. He didn’t regret working with Houston, but Chains never meant to hurt Hoxton. He had always seen the two as separate people despite their similarities.)

Chains would keep it on the lighter side, but he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. Houston wouldn’t judge him for any of it, sometimes agreeing with what he said. Likewise, Houston had no qualms with asking him for advice.

———

Asking people for help was weak… but with Chains, Houston felt different. This was just two friends talking to each other.

It didn’t stop him from feeling a bit dumb for asking Chains for ideas about what sort of Christmas present to get Dallas. It’s not like he could stroll up to the guy and go “so is there anything you need other than me forgiving you for every time you weren’t there when I needed you?”

…Because that would be distasteful. Probably.

But it could definitely throw a wrench into their operations. With a heavy heart, Houston goes back to the drawing board.

“Would he… actually want anything?” Houston asks his partner in crime. He can’t really keep his eyes on the other man, pretending to work on something. The Ghost tightens screws on a spare ECM, but not enough to strip the thread.

“Heheh, yeah. The guy doesn’t go around screaming his love for Breaking Bad… except when he does,” Chains replies lightheartedly, knowing the Crew Chief’s love for old men getting punched in the face. (They never miss a chance to tease Dallas for being a decade older than the rest of them.)

Houston doesn’t think that Dallas does meth. It wouldn’t be professional. If he did, Bain would fire him… on second thought, maybe he wouldn’t. But Dallas’ level of methness is beside the point.

“He wouldn’t like that,” he says with a slight grumble. Houston could get him something related to the retirement home show, but Dallas would be too embarrassed to actually do anything with it. Houston doesn’t blame him. He’s gonna act like he does, anyway.

“…Well, he likes money,” the Armorer shrugs, “but you should be the one to decide, you know? Can’t do it for you. But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way.”

The Ghost can tell that Chains is listening to what he’s saying, and he appreciates the sentiment. No, he’s always appreciated the way that Nicholas understood him. The younger heister turns to nod at his friend and is greeted with a smile, as always.

(Houston ended up getting Dallas a pair of ugly Christmas sweater socks with tacky dollar designs emblazoned across them. Dallas acted polite about the gift as if he didn’t like it, but Houston noticed that his brother wore those stupid fuzzy socks with each subsequent holiday.)

———

Chains sometimes tells stories about how him and Houston used to work in the same room—something that the latter never rarely did by choice. People would take his stuff without asking or get things dirty without cleaning up afterwards and it irked him to no end. Chains was someone who respected Houston’s boundaries, and there’s the fact that they’d known each other for over a decade… that’s gotta count for something, right?

Eventually, the Armorer taught Wolf how to behave himself around Houston as well, slowly helping his friend branch out. Houston learned how to trust a select few, settling both Wolf and Chains into his close circle of friends. Still, the older heister was different to him than the rest. He had bad experiences with Dallas, and Wolf was sometimes unpredictable. They were each unique in their own ways.

Houston was uptight, rigidity mellowed out with time. He knew his own boundaries, pushed them and even went to open a bar in Mexico with the crew’s support. Sure, Chains had shown him the way, but how much he changed was all on him. Chains helped Houston get a foot in the door, allowing him to meet new people. To see new things. To be independent again—apart from both Hoxton and his brother. Just because the gang was apart hadn’t meant that they cut all contact—they met every now and then just for the sake of spending time together.

Chains had sent letters to the former heister between his shoots, talking like they did back in the old days. He would light up whenever he found a reply in his mailbox, putting it elsewhere for safekeeping. Houston never completely chilled out, but he built his own life over there, at his own place! Chains was proud of the younger man. Houston updated his friend on the things that were happening… until he couldn’t.

Chains wasn’t able to save anything from his house when he was attacked.

Which is why when Dallas looks out the window for someone who will never arrive, Chains can put a hand on his shoulder. That’s why he doesn’t have to say a single word. He’s able to show the Crew Chief that he understands. Hoxton is his own person, and Houston never could’ve replaced him. He didn’t have to. Hoxton can’t replace him, either.

The two of them wait for an impossibility until after the sun sets.

[bigrigsonice]

Okay completely random but a while back we (my family) had this problem with gnats in the house (like hundreds of them I’m not even exaggerating) and we thought we found the source of the problem and they’ve been gone for a while but I’ve been noticing them again ever since my sebastian post blew up and I think that’s really funny. Like now I’m almost inclined to believe every one of you who interacted with that post is a gnat and now you’re infiltrating my house. Where are you coming from.

[elprupneerg]

i have. not a clue. how the hell i'm supposed to know what to do for this stupid class

[commence-screaming]

can we have some good dallas and houston brother moments i like... don't see enough of that lol

Hiiii manekiiii Y’know, Eric once said that he wished there had been more development with these two. Sharing their highs and lows. a dual perk that lets you do something like that. Quick shoutout to the Panic Room server and @ghousebox for the voice lines, they totally inspired this

————

They’ve gone over the plan dozens of times at this point, no need to remind everybody of the blueprints. This should be a quick in and out, under thirty minutes flat. Houston and Dallas stand against the side of the van, a comfortable yet tenuous silence blanketing them. Pre-heist jitters.

A soft click of a lighter illuminates Houston’s thoughts—Dallas is counting on him to do his job. I can’t mess this up.

The man in question holds out his lighter between his index and his thumb, glancing at the Ghost, a silent offer. Houston takes it, trying not to care. Nicotine fills the air with an aching burn, the both of them breathing in poison and exhaling their worries.

I’ll spot you, Dallas doesn’t say.

I know you will, his response audible somewhere in the space between clouds of twinning smoke.

When the cigarette burns out, the younger heister crushes the butt with a fist, holding his hand up to his brother. Dallas casually brushes the back of Houston’s hand with his own, half a fist bump, half a handshake; an acknowledgment.

The Ghost pulls the mask over his head, obscuring his face.

————

(Something goes wrong! Houston out of grenades so Dallas TOSSES him one and they work in tandem, Dallas wouldn’t be able to have a good angle so Houston is able to score the shot. But I do not know how to write this HELP)

————

They’re forced into a corner, taking a different route back to freedom. Heavy footsteps race in their direction, the both of them barreling through trees and shattering branches underneath their shoes. Dallas hears bullets whizzing past his ears, the crack of a round embedding itself into wood. He shouts at Houston to hurry up, a quick burst of inspiration as the Ghost starts the van. Muscle memory tricks him into reaching for a grenade when there’s nothing to be found.

Dallas just barely grasps the door handle, a panicked yell as he signals for Houston to step on the gas. They peel away before Dallas even shuts the door—cops are hot on their trail, firing at the escape vehicle. Gunpowder fills the air, sticks to their clothes as bullets clip the paint off of the van. The heisters cringe at the sound of metal being pierced, barely stopped by the flimsy box that was the only thing between them and certain death.

Houston tries to catch his breath and drive simultaneously, his veins bursting with adrenaline. For a solid minute it’s just the two of them, air conditioner put on blast as the engine hums. Dallas checks behind them again and again, gun drawn beneath their feet. Only when he puts it down does Houston finally relax.

“We’re in the clear,” he rasps, reality starting to hit him as he tries to calm his nerves.

“I almost can’t believe we did it,” the Crew Chief says, a slow smile spreading across his face as he vocalizes exactly what Houston was thinking. Dallas’ tacky mask stays on, but the Ghost can tell that he’s grinning. They lock eyes for a moment, relief and joy mixed up together.

They almost died. They almost died, yet their bodies weren’t cooling on the unforgiving ground. Sure, Houston will have to order new parts for the van but that’s a small price to pay considering. Considering—

In a move uncharacteristic of him, Houston grabs his brother’s wrist, raising their arms as if they’ve won a contest. His grip is tight as he shudders, betraying his fear. They’ve made it out alive and whole and well and—

“We did it.”