I’d meant to propose this over the weekend bc the anniversary of HP Lovecrafts death was March 15.
All this cutesy springtime bunnies and flowers shit is getting sickeningly sweet. I want horror. Being a fluffy pony is a horrifying existence, and even simple things are Eldritch terror levels of frightening to a fluffy pony.
Not an actual contest, per se, with the prize being simply who disturbed their internet friends the most.
I’d be pretty horrifying if some fluffy was constantly tortured than revived, each time more horrible than the last and they remember the previous death. Could be some serious I have no mouth, and I must scream type shit.
When you think about it, fluffy pony literature is already Lovecraftian horror. The fluffies inhabit a sweet microcosm while surrounded by a macrocosm of human society that is at best indifferent to them and at worst genocidally hostile, but they are unable to recognize this indifference and hostility until it is too late; forced to confront the greater reality, the fluffy pony either is killed or has its mind shattered, enetering a “wan die” loop. And also nobody seems to like the brown fluffies.
