#cross all the streams!

[tabbyrp]

@brooklynislandgirl cont from [x] for funsies (dishonorable mentions to @therealgamble @tarnishedhalo @whosxafraid )

Tabby would be among the last people on earth to judge imagining a hot rocker losing his shirt while sailing. She only casts Vedder in his younger incarnation within her mind’s eye because it allows for some dramatic billowing of curly locks, standing against the ocean wind like an oil-painted romance book cover. It’s a pity that Beth is not the sibling with the ability to peek into minds, for Tabby is quite proud of the scene she’s created.

The mental landscape is, alas, scrubbed clean when Beth takes her turn in the idle coffee shop game. “Oh man. Give me a second.” Tabby reaches for her own latte, only to remember she guzzled the whole thing while Beth checked off her answers. She stalls by tearing off a chunk of the blueberry muffin between them, crumbs landing on the plate before the segment disappears into her mouth.

“Okay.” A swallow before she plows on. “The TV show is the hardest, just because getting any of those boys to take a whole day off for themselves is, like, rare. But get the right show, some beer and some pizza, and Brian would relax and maybe even enjoy it. So, he gets the pick.”

“Karaoke is Riley. Easy choice there, even if he would do the whole proper singing, instead of banshee screaming which is kind traditional when you’re on a stage trying to do Whitney or Celine.” Mischief appears on her face. “Remind me in seven months that we should go karaoke’ing for my birthday.”

The muffin tempts Tabby briefly, though she resists, playing with her empty coffee cup to keep idle fingers busy. “And Luka gets yoga class. Those small mats might be a bit of a squish for him, but I also kinda think he’s the most likely to find the class not total torture. He’s got the most inner calm, y’know?”

[stil-lindigo]

ARTISTS FOR PALESTINE 🇵🇸 - On the 6th and 9th of March, I'll be doing art requests on stream with other notable artists to raise money for Operation Olive Branch and the PCRF.

I'm incredibly lucky to be counting quite a few big names in the roster, including known Jesus and Odysseus enthusiast @wolfythewitch, the extraordinary fanartist @denimcatfish, and the incredibly talented @troubledminnesotan, as well as Lilypichu from OfflineTV.

You'll be able to watch the streams on the day of the event either on my twitch channel here, or via the links provided by the artists below.

Lilypichu

Cuptoast

Akairosu_

Sevvanto

Wolfythewitch

[tomatoart]

the raw guy

[royalarchivist]

After completing the Nether minigame, a short video plays showing some of the last things the Eggs did before they disappeared.

[Muted the irrelevant cross-talk because it was loud and distracting.]

[mokeonn]

I fucking hate the tetris effect so much. Like oooh lemme play this funnie little card game rogue-like, ooh it's so fun it's gonna be the only game I play for weeks now, oooh what do you mean I'm fucking duplicating multi-card holographic sevens in my dreams

[placetneplacet]

Just wanted to make sure we all got a chance to see Tay and Mads just chilling in Milan…as you do…

[youphoriaot7]

He hasn't seen Roier awake in nearly a week. The two keep managing to just barely miss each other, one crawling into bed mere hours after the other has already started to warm the sheets. They haven't managed to wake up at the same time, either: the amount of times Cellbit has awoken to an empty bedside this week is unmatched.

But there is a call to the main square today, and nearly everyone is there. It isn't until they've been standing around for a few minutes that the thought truly works its way up from the depths of Cellbit's mind: cadê o guapito?

Moments later, a united buzzing on their communicators fills the air, a note from an unknown number telling them to "follow the lights." Mouse cries out, pointing towards a nearby trail of torches, and Cellbit quickly bolts after her, eager to keep an eye out ahead of everyone in case of danger.

Familiar shouts from just behind him catch his ear, and his face melts into a grin as he glances over his shoulder. "¡Guapito!"

"Gatinho!" comes the easy reply, Roier locked sword to sword with a straggler zombie. Cellbit can only pause for a moment to watch as his husband slices the arm of the zombie clean off. He swings the sword in a wide arc, twirling it around his wrist to bring it back bladefirst as he shoves it into the zombie's torso.

He always was the better fighter. 

The pull of the blade out isn't quite as clean as it usually is, Roier's hands seeming to shake a bit with the force, but before Cellbit can mention anything, Mouse is exclaiming from behind him. He smiles instead, shaking his head as he sets one foot on the staircase. "Ven aqui, vamos!"

"¡Sí, sí, sí—vamos!" He can hear Roier's quick steps behind him as they barrel up the stairs, quickly arriving at a small landing built into the hill. Mouse is already up there, scratching her head in bewilderment as she stares at the trail of torches that have simply…stopped. Dead ended against the wall.

The ledge starts to fill out with people behind them and Cellbit quickly moves aside, scanning the crowd for the familiar face he knows so well. Eventually, he manages to spot the classic flash of red and moves forward, catching the corner of Roier's hoodie and tugging him over. 

"Óla, guapito," he smiles, though the expression fades the moment his husband looks up.

Roier looks exhausted. The circles under his eyes are as dark as coal, and so deep that for a moment, Cellbit wondered if he hadn't been punched. He seems somewhat paler than usual, and it looks as though he hasn't showered in days, judging by his unruly hair. 

"...hey, ¿qué pasó?" he asks quickly, hands finding purchase against Roier's forearms, even as the younger man tries to take a step back. "You alright?"

"Nada, nada, ¡bien!" Roier responds, a bit too quickly—and he won't meet Cellbit's eyes. "Estoy bien."

It's not convincing, even despite his bedraggled state. "...certo?" Cellbit presses, but Roier just shakes his head, tugging his arms away.

"Sí, sí, estoy bien."

There's a loud shout of triumph from over by the wall, making them both jump, and Cellbit casts one last look in his husband's direction. "...we'll talk about this later, okay?"

Roier nods, throwing him a small, half-hearted smile. "Claro." Before either of them can say more, they're swept into the rush of excited people, but for the rest of the night, Cellbit can't help keeping one eye on his husband. Something's wrong, whether he's willing to admit it or not, and he is determined not to head to sleep tonight without figuring out what's going on.

— — — — — — — — — —

Fuck.

He already knew he couldn't hide from Cellbit forever. This discussion had been coming for a while, ever since the kids had vanished, really. (Died.) But with all the excitement around the new islander, and the way he'd managed to postpone it further by showing Cellbit around his newest construction, he had been hoping maybe the other man had forgotten.

But Cellbit wasn't the head of the Ordo for no reason, and Roier was definitely not the best at lying to his husband. (Plus, his current appearance made it really, really fucking obvious—even Forever had stopped him the other day; he'd only just managed to escape the other man's questions.)

But now, outside of the hospital with nothing but air between them, as Cellbit rests an arm on his shoulder—now, Roier realizes, there's nowhere to run.

"Still no news on the kids?" Cellbit asks softly. He already knows the answer.

Roier shakes his head anyway. "I think they're dead, Cellbit."

Cellbit freezes for a few seconds, his arm slipping off of Roier's shoulder. Moments later, he lets out a small laugh, gently punching Roier's bicep as he shakes his head. "Callaté, pendejo. Não é verdade."

Roier watches him step away, taking a deep breath before letting it out in a rushed sigh. "Listen, Cellbit—you wanna know what's going on? I'll tell you."

Cellbit glances back at him, sharp eyes fixed on his own. He inclines his head to indicate he's listening, reaching a hand out to take Roier's own. 

"I'm tired, Cellbit." There's a lot more weight behind the words than Roier really intended to give them, but, well. He's in it now. Might as well go all in. "I'm tired of not being able to sleep. I'm tired of lying awake in bed all night, staring at the wall, thinking about where the children could be. I'm tired of feeling alone. The kids have been gone for so long, Cellbo, so fucking long—and I don't think they're coming back."

Cellbit's face softens, an expression Roier hates to see slowly overtaking his features. It's not pity, per se—and thank the lord for that—it seems more…guilty. It's guilt.

Ay, mierda.

"...we can't give up on them, guapito," Cellbit murmurs. "If we give up on them, then who will go after them?"

Roier nods, staring at the ground. "I know. We said it was up to us to find them." He does not tell Cellbit that there may not be anything for them to find.

"Exatamente." Cellbit sighs, running his other hand through his hair as he shakes his head. "And I'm sorry I haven't been around, okay? I've been so caught up in the work at the Ordo that I haven't really…paid much attention to anything else—"

"No se preocupe." It's Roier's turn to shake his head. "I know you've been busy." He grins. "It's not like the work ever stops, so how could you?"

Cellbit doesn't return the smile. Instead, he takes Roier's other hand, staring down at their interlocked fingers. "I know you, Roier," he says softly, rubbing his thumb over Roier's ring. "I know you hide your sorrow with jokes and giggles. I know you try to be the ray of light, always try to make others laugh." He swallows hard, glancing up to meet Roier's eyes. "But I know you, and I know you're sad."

Roier takes a deep breath, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat as he nods. Cellbit's gaze holds his own for as long as he can take it before he has to pull away. They say eyes are the windows to the soul, but Cellbit simply feels like he's pulling Roier's out for the world to see. And he trusts Cellbit with it, to be clear—but this isn't the privacy of the castle, and Roier feels horribly…vulnerable out in the open like this. 

Then, Cellbit opens his arms, and Roier tumbles into them. The other man's grip is tight, and Roier's chest shudders as he takes a deep breath. "I miss them," he whispers. "I miss Richarlyson. I miss Leonarda." He swallows the end of his sentence. I miss Bobby.

"Eu sei." Cellbit presses a gentle kiss to the top of his head, ignoring the leftover building dust stuck in his hair and smoothing pieces down with one hand. "I do, too." And Roier doesn't have to look at him to hear the way his own heart is breaking.

"We're going to find them, guapito," he continues firmly. "We're going to keep looking; I know they're here somewhere."

"Yeah," Roier mutters, "somewhere dead."

Cellbit ignores him. "This is all leading up to something, I can feel it." He squeezes Roier tightly. 

Roier sighs. "Yeah, leading up to them telling us they're dead," he repeats flatly. 

Cellbit finally pulls away, shaking his head. "Eu não acho, guapito," he says softly, "I really don't think so." Roier meets his eyes, watching him for a moment.

He recognizes that look. Not hope, the emotion he's watched drain from so many people's eyes the past few weeks. Not hope at all, no—this is the same look that Bad had in his eyes a few days ago, when Roier had almost the exact same conversation with him. It's the same look Foolish had when Roier had broached the topic of Leo's disappearance with him. It's the same expression he's felt on his own face before, when he had journeyed thousands of miles away from home…only to be told that his son was dead.

It's happened before. Roier knows how the Federation works, at this point. They get your hopes up, just so they can dash them all at once and bring you to your lowest point. 

He is not going to let them break him again. 

But Cellbit doesn't understand. Bad doesn't know. Foolish has never lost a child. They still have hope—desperate hope, but hope nonetheless. Just a single thread that they're left clinging to, before they shatter completely. Just like Roier did. Just like Roier is. Once again.

And he can't bring himself to be the one to cut that thread. 

Silently, he squeezes Cellbit's fingers, giving him a slow nod. "Okay," he murmurs, trying to muster up a smile. 

It's not very convincing, and Cellbit sighs. "We'll get them back. We have to."

"Sí." His response is quiet, without much hope. Roier takes a deep breath, clearing his throat. "Okay. Well, um…I'm gonna go get some rest, yeah? I haven't slept very well the past few days, so…" He shrugs. "I could probably use it."

Cellbit nods, kissing the top of his hand. "Okay. Look, I'm here if you need me, okay?" He smiles slightly. "If you need a hug or something, just message me. Eu estarei lá."

At that, Roier is finally able to crack a smile, the irony of his own phrase being tossed right back at him like a lifeline enough to ease a small weight off his shoulders. "I will." He squeezes Cellbit's hand one last time before finally letting go, waving over his shoulder. "Hasta pronto, gatinho. Wake me up when this is over?"

It's just a simple line—a half-joke, really—but Cellbit's smile turns sad, and he nods. "Prometo."

[greenduvet]

slay happy 2 year anniversary of me doing a seance in the murderhouse

[californianedgeworth]

the amount of people who point out Steven as some kind of money hungry villain manipulating Shane and Ryan in the whole Watcher debacle is so annoying. clearly they just liked Shane and Ryan a lot better and want to take culpability away from them. but all 3 of them made this decision, as far as we know they're all equally accountable. stop making conspiracies based off people's lives you don't know so you can continue to justify your parasocial relationship jfc

[mariatesstruther]

okay wait im obsessed with the idea of chihuahuas surviving especially well in the apocalypse

[eefaevie]

Hey, if Rhys Darby and Oscar Isaac kissed, Rhys’ mole would fit into Oscar’s scar. Just so you know.

[tabbyrp]

Medieval AU

A lost meme from the inbox – something something AU.

Behold first an AI monstrosity to set the mood.

A medieval AU sound, to be honest, absolutely fantastic. Pure crack-nip. As long as it’s one of those quasi-fantasy ones where plague isn’t a common issue and people have decent hygiene habits.

It’s also one of those settings which feels ripe for all the raccoons-in-a-trench-coat to inhabit. Corinne is the local baker, a semi-recent arrival in the village who carries her own secrets. Brian as the county sheriff, or one of his men, appointed by the king to deal with unruly criminals. Raylan stops by on frequent occasions, hunting for the worst in the land, and often finding them already waiting for him in the local jail cell.  

Beth and Riley, the local nobles, one a noble knight and the other prone to appearing in the village to aid those inflicted with ailments. There is rumor of another sibling, a whisper of a name of Billy, but none have seen him. The villagers do know Jayden, a fellow noble, choosing to reside with the Riley’s instead of in her own castle, and a lady not to mess with.

While every land has the nobles, it also has those of less courtly aspirations. Ron, the owner of the local tavern, and the one who keeps many ruffians from swindling the town. Luka, who the children call the wolf of the woods, only comes into the village when he must. Aspen, an unruly waif with an uncanny ability to know all the secrets the town folk would rather stay hidden.

And amid the other souls who have been carelessly overlooked, there is Tabby, still serving drinks as everyone’s favorite tavern wench.

[citrlet]

brownies for dinner because i'm mentally unwell

[sysig]

PinkBlueSpam anon I am still thinking of you *blows you a kiss 💕*

[creatediana]

"Untrusting Free Verse" - a poem written 4/16/2024

I'm suspicious but ignorant. I'm astrology itself. I'm the naked eye on Saturn assuming it's a star because I belong to a child, or am one. I'm the infomercial for Zoobooks. And I'm a ten-dollar art set with markers that come dried out. And the good markers I crushed to make puddles of color—I'm those as well. I'm Lizzie McGuire on a 12-inch TV. No, I'm Kate. I'm an outfit rememberer. I'm a compliment collector. I'm a purveyor of vanity and a paper doll-making prodigy and I'm the dolls. I am paper. I'm still blank on the back. Reuse me. Remember me. Cut me out. And some slack. I am far too suspicious. I am going to shreds.

[pichuamiibo]

every time a streamer reads out a cringe awkward chat msg i keel over like a sick dog with second hand embarrassment my body literally lurches and bends like a cockroach sprayed with raid i cant take it