Puddle Of Little Ponies!

The narrative is sentient and it is coming to GET you

..oh lordie hi i’m in literally the same boat i thought i was alone haha. i broke down and annoyed my sister via facebook dms at one point. i’m on season 6 approximately episode 21 rn

i have exactly one friend i’m harassing with my shenanigans, and my therapist LOL

had a mental breakdown last night bc ive been rewatching spn and getting super back into it and destiel but have nobody to talk to about it anymore so like. i may start just randomly posting my every thought on here even though i havent used this website since 2018. pls feel free to send me recs of people to follow. or be my friend. i wanna talk abt destiel.

@yinnyguardian cherri coded sentence

I feel like this is a tasteful and accessible way to dip my toe into comics and original characters on here

something possessed me

[ID: Diarra Jasmine doodled a colorful image of her wonderful fat body with a poem she wrote. The poem reads:

Would you hate your body if the world didn’t?

If you could go somewhere without society saying no in the form of chairs that are too small and clothes that don’t fit?

If you could eat without someone jumping down your throat to assign moral value to food

If you could move without the weight of the world adding to the weight of your body

Assuming they know the fate of your body

Would you hate your body

if you didn’t constantly hear death’s chorus with every swish of your hips

“I’d rather die than look like you”

“You’re gonna die soon”

They chant and they dig

a person sized hole based on what they think your heart looks like?

Your heart looks like

The heart of a person who deserves to feel at home

not at war

Simply because they are a person

At home

And not at war

Would you hate your body if the world didn’t? End ID.]

(Source) @diarrajasmineyoga

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finished! OCs belong to @bl00dgutz4evr

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WIP of a christmas gift for a friend. Kat if you saw this no you didn’t

Changelings! Six legged insectoid beasts grown to the size of ponies, their target mimic species. Rather than evolving perfect physical mimicry, changeling imitation is a two-pronged process. In addition to a color-shifting carapace, magic distorts and twists the silhouette to match the mimicked subject. The spell is weaved with a rapid beating of the the wings, which creates a delicate network of invisible magic threads that tie the changeling's physical form to the projected mirage to make it move. After casting the spell, the changeling needs to recast it periodically, so if you doubt your friend's identity, listen for the buzzing of wings.

It takes a lot of concentration to keep the illusion in place, and changelings are naturally much taller than ponies when standing at their full height. Inexperienced or agitated changelings may forget to crouch, which breaks the illusion in a terrifying way. Because the features of the mirage are bound to the underlying insect body, moving wrong will distort the perceived form before it reveals what lies beneath.

The reason changeling bodies are so much longer than their target species is to allow a changeling to mimic creatures many times their size, provided they have the wingspan to reach the entire length of the target individual. A full wingspan is the sign of a healthy changeling, one that has enough magic to cast their illusions without much effort. Without sufficient magic, a changeling must constantly refresh their spell, and the ceaseless beating tears their delicate wings to shreds.

There is one changeling with enough magic to spare: The Queen. Drones store magic in their tails and bring it back to feed her. The queen of years past has been bleeding them dry and soaking up all their magic, leaving what should be a healthy reservoir in their tails as a withered pocket. This new style of ruling could possibly have started as a response to the ascension of the Goddess of Love, and the resulting magicification of feelings of romantic and platonic love.

For millennia, changelings evolved to feed on emotions directed at them (or rather the being they mimic) and convert it into magic. Positive emotions were the most stable, but any emotion worked. But when Love started to feel an entire meal, and gave the drones strength to subsist on their own, their queen demanded every drop of intoxicating love for herself, leaving them in a constant state of starvation and desperation.

Just a little love can go a long way. Changelings are forbidden from changing their colors or illusions to express themselves, as they must be seen as "mindless drones" and part of a single hive mind, despite their potential for individuality. Instead, they remain black unless imitating a pony or other creature. Each section of a changeling's carapace has a clear top layer with liquid suspended above the actual armor layer beneath. Microscopic grooves display different colors and shades based on how much of the liquid fills them, and how much pressure it's under. With the base colors set, wings spin the illusion of form to completely disguise the changeling beneath.

But what if they didn't have to save all their energy for disguises? What if there was enough love to go around?

The Changeling Revolution is an ongoing battle, but it has a hopeful, vibrant spark. Led by a mild-mannered former "drone," a growing faction are discovering peace, safety, and individuality by feeding off love directed not at illusions they cast, but to the people they truly are. It's a scary, vulnerable first step to allow others to see your true nature, but the rewards of loving and being loved are worth it.

Revolutionaries are not "reformed" so much as healed by embracing individual love. It turns out when each changeling allows themself to have their own color, preferences, and name, then the love felt from one changeling to another can be converted into magic, and a hive can become a thriving ecosystem within itself.

Nymphs, once destined for a viscous cycle of deception and starvation, are now able to bask in love given to them by hivemates, and they grow up stronger and kinder than any generation before. Though they can only shift into pastel colors until their carapace fully hardens and darkens, they still express by choosing their own look, name, and destiny.

The healing of the changeling population is as varied as their prismatic colors, and as beautiful as their glittering wings.

humans forever will love funny little horses. love and peace and ponies runs in our blood

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drawing ponies with no context! (some context; this is a persona/ponysona. yes i am bald)

ALSO I SWEAR I DO FINISHED MY WIPS. I JUST CURRENTLY HAVE A LOT OF PROJECTS