#could go wrong

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

I'm thinking so much about how different Poll and Tequilla's life experiences are and how thats going to affect them both

Like, Poll was adopted WAY earlier than was intended. They had gone through all the tests when they were very young and then put on ice until they were needed for an adoption event, of which they never got to because their papa found them not even an hour after being thawed out! Then, living with Stardust, they traveled around the world for a while before being forced to settle down so it could take care of it's baby properly. Poll was raised in what was basically a nonverbal household with not much supervision, they barely even used signs when they were younger because it just wasn't necessary after a while.

Even more, Poll is VERY sheltered by egg standards. They've never experienced a death (anothers or their own), they've never been in a fight, or been in danger from the Federation. They've always lived away from all of that and had their papa to protect them.

Tequilla on the other hand? He never traveled from home much, having 4 doting parents to take care of him, but he DID experience the horrors of the island. He's even died! Sure he doesn't remember any of this, but it still happened. He has fighting instincts, poisonous color schemes. You can see dozens of signs littered through his childhood home, untouched. His parents protected him with everything they had and mourned him when he died.

Like I seriously didn't plan for such a perfect contrast between these kids but. it. WORKS.

Poll is a great talker but a bad writer, Tequilla is the opposite. Poll had one parent while Tequilla had four. Poll has their memories but is entirely unequiped to deal with what life is trying to throw their way, while Tequilla knows how to fight away the dangers but can no longer even remember what the dangers ARE. Poll who looks like themself, Tequilla who looks like his parents. Orange and blue, round and sharp, sun and moon, earth and stars.

[mcskullmun]

The horror of old things that no one understands anymore going wrong. Black and white TV with fuzzy sound (sorry that’s old to me) and images that don’t look real, fucked up 1900’s labs with weird equipment and broken cages, windows NT 4.0 with three homosexuals trapped in it with varying degrees of self awareness and expression

[laski-and-sage]

Anderson: I can't believe we're stuck in this room together!

Alucard, swallowing the key: truly unfortunate...

[jmenfoot]

Football is actually so fun I love to watch it’s my favorite hobby to destress (Argentina has a two goals lead)

[hinamie]

trick or treat!

[theiliad]

making this one binary. no ghost agnosticism allowed. but explain the nuances in the tags if you want.

[egophiliac]

can't believe that skeleman has turned on us, and Halloween Prom is tomorrow.

(what a top-tier UM...we are about to be just totally obliterated in the absolute silliest way. what possible use could this power have outside of bringing us to the brink of utter holiday disaster.)

[rosescoast]

i just think we would both have so much fun if we fucked

[puck777]

Trying to figure out clip studio paint. Anyways have more doodles of my freaky creature

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[puraiuddo]

WAIT

WAIT

WAIT

(sjabhdhsjdja fyi i've retracted this post, but it was fun while it lasted lmao)

[danielcalmdown]

early morning, on the way to Martinaise

[stoopidstapler]

SO IVE BEEN GOIN INSANE SINCE THIS TRAILER DROPPED. JUST. SIMON. SIMON. SIMON.

[shepscapades]

[Set in Mid-Late Hermitcraft Season 8]

In which we learn a little something about Cub, a little something about Doc, and a little something about Xisuma.

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[skadoodler]

etho in infinity room hell: a compilation