The people who like these are the lowest form of neck beard, autistic basement dwellers...
Having saved one of these on your computer give you a higher ranking on the list of human decay that a fucking furry...
You are a more waste of skin than a furry...
At least we dont go outside dressed like autistic pedofiles
Its about as much use as going into a gay fur thread and yelling at them, that person is just curious and I dont think its worth slandering that person if they might be intrested.
Ir any of you had a fluffy
What would you do to it?
>Could you please not ruin the mood with such comments? They're pretty rude and not to mention very offensive to furries if they are around.
Not the guy you're responding to, but furries need to be rounded up and gassed.
Image is too large so just check the link :
Never saw it before either, and seriously it took me 10 seconds to find it once I had the artist name. You could have Googled it anon, don't be such an assisted
Thanks fam, i was testing if the resolution was a probblem for someone else than me, cause i cant upload Good manners are all that matter and others can
Dropping my OC and some other stuff
Pic is OC comic part 1/2
This way saves on food. Fluffies are like rabbits, there's still some nutrition left in their shit. That's why they shit all the time, they have a very inefficient digestive system.
>I did this to my hamster when I was 10yrs old. I didn't mean to hurt it. It fucked me up for life.
I drowned my hamster in it's own water bowl when I was 11. To this day I still don't know why I did that . . .
No, never buy a pillowfluff. Not even once. That vile trade had to end.
If you find a place that makes pillowfluffs, firebomb their place. When they come out screaming, pillow them. Let them find out what is like to live the way they've forced so many poor unfortunate fluffies to live. Cunts.
>You are Brother-Sergeant Maximus Decimus Meridias of the Ultramarines
>The Space Marines around which the mold that all other Space Marines were made from was formed
>You try not to bring this up in conversation with Space Marines from other chapters
>You wouldn't want them to feel badly about themselves
>Currently your squad is garrisoned on Geneticus VI, but your tour of duty is coming to an end
>Your mission had been to safeguard the research performed by some of your chapter's techmarines and the local Magos Biologis
>Their intention was to develup a serum that would cause a Space Marine to be so unpalatable that the Tyranids, deprived of their favorite meal, would leave Macragge alone
>And the galaxy at large, of course
>For the Emperor!
I'm working on a big comic right now (I've completly finished the first page, I'll post it on a fluffy thread when it's all done).
If you want to see more, my booru name is That-Guy (there's only one pic uploaded right now but more will come soon).
Pic is more OC.
>Unfortunately the project has ground to a halt as it has been realized that the only way to test the serum is to actually try to feed a Space Marine to Tyranids
>Frankly, you've been wondering about that the entire time, but you felt it wasn't your place to ask questions
>Despite your volunteering to be a test subject yourself, the project has been shut down indefinitely
>Soon you will take your leave of Geneticus VI and return to the bosom of mother Ultramar
>As dull as garrison duty can be, though, you feel you will miss it just a little
>Nothing has tried to kill you in months
>That's almost unheard of in your experience, and while it feels vaguely wrong to not bring the wrath of the Emperor down upon the heretic, the mutant, and the alien, not getting shot at it is kind of nice
>Despite that, your squad has still managed to suffer a single casualty
>Your former Sergeant, Joaquin, actually slipped and fell while speaking with the Magos in her chamber
>How he managed that, with the treads on his boots and the non-slip coating on every surface in the tower's flooring, you'll never understand
>Even so, a fall from standing height is not dangerous for an armoured Space Marine, although understandably embarassing
>But Joaquin just happened to be walking towards the tower's spiral staircase when he fell
>A hundred and seventy floors above ground level
>You witnessed what was left of him arrive at the bottom of the stairwell
>Brother Tyronicus very nearly threw up his Soylent Viridiens
>Everyone suspected foul play was involved, but despite personally leading the investigation, you never did discover any evidence
>You did detect an odor most foul at the top of the stairs, but nothing that would have caused a Space Marine to lose his equilibrium
>You never found the source, but it smelled like a combination of rotting meat and animal feces, and the Magos was at a loss to explain what it could have been
>Regardless, with the Sergeant dead, your squad required a new commanding officer
>The rest of the squad unanimously voted you into the position, and while you felt the promotion was undeserved, to refuse would have called your Battle Brothers' judgement into question
>Still, you insist on fulfulling all of your old duties as well as your new ones
>You are currently performing a routine perimeter check around the Adeptus Mechanicus compound
>It is more of a formality than anything else, but the walk provides you with some solitude to contemplate your duty to the Emperor
>You are passing the compost heaps at the moment, and you detect the scent of the leftovers from this evening's meal
>The Adeptus Mechanicus are not great chefs, but they do their best for the sons of the Emperor, and tonight they had served a fairly palatable dish of spaghetti with meat balls
>Personally you prefer your pasta served alfredo, but the meat balls were actual meat instead of processed protein shapes, which is a rare ocurrence on this world
>As you pass the compost heap your transhuman hearing detects the noise of something scrabbling about in the garbage, a noise that you initially dismiss as some type of large vermin, and thus beneath your notice
>"Fwuffy find skettis! Pwaise de Empwah fow dis bounty!"
>As quickly and quietly as you are able, you make your way down an alley that leads towards the small open area that houses the Magos' compost heaps
>The compost itself is contained in several large metal boxes, open on one side to allow for more organic material to be added
>A number of discarded cardboard containers have been stacked up beside one, allowing a small animal to get at the remains of your squad's spaghetti dinner
>It looks for all the galaxy like a very small, rotund horse with long, deep blue fur and a white mane and tail
>There is a small, stubby horn coming out of its head, and an expression of nearly orgasmic rapture upon its face as it chows down on the pasta with a "Nom nom nom" sound
>This must be one of those "fluffy ponies" you've heard about
>Battle Brother Tyronicus encountered one a few months ago, but he doesn't like to speak of it
>Personally, you feel the little abominations of science are an affront to the Imperium's long and glorious history of research into genetic manipulation
>But you have never heard of one praising the name of the God-Emperor before
>"Oooh, dey stiww wawm! Tank 'ou Gawd Empwah! Fwuffy wuv 'ou!"
>You are not actually sure if this is heresy
>As you ponder the tiny creature and its apparent devotion to your idol, you note another of the creatures approaching from another alley
>This one has blood red fluff and a black mane and tail
>Unlike the single horn that the first fluffy has on its forehead, the newcomer has a set of curling horns emerging from either side of its skull
>A sixth sense honed by over a century of conflict tells you that something is very wrong about this
>You can feel your trigger finger start to itch as the red fluffy approaches the compost pile
>"Fwuffy smeww skettis!" the tiny thing snarls, "Gib smawty fwuffy skettis, or fwuffy gib biggest owwies!"
>The blue fluffy looks down at the interloper in surprise, then smiles and waves a stubby hoof at the rudimentary staircase it constructed
>"Dewe nu need fow viowence," says the good-natured fluffy, "dewe mowe den enuff skettis fow aww. Come and shawe dese nummies, and fwuffies pwaise de Gawd Empwah togethow!"
>The red fluffy spits on the ground
>"Dummeh fwuffy go 'way and give smawty fwuffy aww da skettis ow get fowevow sweepies!" it declares, "Smawty fwuffy make sowwy poopies on 'ou cowpse gawd and his siwwy metaw chaiw!"
>The blue fluffy immediately stops eating and stares down at his scarlet counterpart, trembling with some unexpressed emotion
>Your own vision goes red and you raise your bolt pistol in preparation to annihilate this loathsome creature that has dared to profane the sacred name of the Emperor and his golden throne
>Before you can take action, however, the blue fluffy launches itself out of the compost container and slams itself into the red one with a howl of fury
>"Hewetic!" he screams, "Fwuffy gib 'ou sowwy hoofsies!"
>The red fluffy shoulders the blue one off of itself with a grunt of effort, and despite an obvious trickle of blood from its nose, it seems to feel no pain, laughing hysterically instead
>"De powah of fwuffy's dawk gawds pwotect fwuffy!"
>The red fluffy rears up and attempts to bring its hooves down on its opponent, but the blue fluffy is quicker and avoids the worst of the blows, using his stubby horn to poke and prod the other fluffy's legs
>"Faith is fwuffy's shiewd, and hatwed is fwuffy's weapon!" yells the blue fluffy
>You note with some surprise that the fluffy seems to have some experience, or perhaps some natural skill at combat, and is doing very well for himself
>Despite the bleeding wounds he inflicts upon his enemy, however, the red fluffy seems to feel none of it, and after flailing angrily for several moments it lands a powerful blow with one of its forehooves
>The blue fluffy flies backwards into the compost container with a loud bang and sinks to the ground, clearly dazed, with his eyes pointed in different directions
>"Boo boo juice fow da boo boo juice gawd!" cackles the red fluffy as it closes in for the kill, "Head bones fow da head bone thwone!"
"Yeah, that is about enough of that."
I wouldn't be an abuser, I don't like unnecessary pain. I've even stopped using a brand of mouse traps because they were to weak to damage them, just choking them to death. They are pests, so killing ferals would be fine if they were invading your yard, but this stuff to me is just fun fiction, abuse against a creature that never existed, and most likely never will:
>Both fluffies look up in surprise as you approach them with a slow, measured tread
>You draw a bead on the red fluffy with your bolt pistol, but at this range and from this angle you're far from certain that you can hit it without also killing the blue fluffy
>Fortunately the red fluffy is on some kind of combat high, and it begins hopping back and forth in a mad dance, slowly approaching you
>"Foowish hoomin munstah!" it shrieks, "Smawty fwuffy aweady gib one of 'ou fowevah sweepies! Fwuffy kiww 'ou too!"
>"Whut?" asks the blue fluffy
>"Smawty fwuffy make bad poopies!" the red fluffy cackles, "Den dummeh hoomin munstah faww down staiws! Fwuffy give hoomin boo boo juice fow da boo boo juice gawd!"
>To be honest, the pronounced lisp and bizarre dialect these things speak with is making it nearly impossible for you to understand what they're saying
>'Hoomin faww down staiws' rings several very large bells, however
>And 'bad poopies' sounds like something that could cause a horrific stench, although how this tiny thing managed to get to the top of the magos' tower and deposit its foul spoor there is a mystery you will never solve
>The shame and horror settles upon your shoulders like a great weight as you consider that your sergeant, one of the greatest and most zealous servants of the Emperor you have ever known, was laid low by a possessed shitrat
>For a moment your vision swims with the force of this revelation, but then you see the daemon fluffy cackling at you, clearly amused at your distress
>You lock the iron sights on your pistol over the little bastard's center mass and growl
"... you. You killed Sergeant Joaquin. You black-hearted little wretch."
>"Fwuffy am bestest and smawtest of fwuffies dat wowship wuinous powahs!" yells the fluffy, "Maim! Kiww! Buwn! Maim! Kiww! Bu-"
>A bolter round to the spine puts an end to the thing's screams
>The fluffy's body contains too little mass for the mass reactive round to actually react to, and instead of exploding inside of it the round simply goes through it and craters into the ground
>That impact alone is more than enough to blast the fluffy's fragile form into pieces, though
>Its head and forelegs are flung in one direction, and its ass goes in another
>That taken care of, you kneel before the blue fluffy, who seems to have recovered his wits and is pushing himself upright with difficulty
"Are you injured, little fluffy thing?"
>"Fwuffy have owwies," he confirms, wincing, "but fwuffy get wowse huwties dan dis befowe. Nu go fowevah sweepies yet."
>The little thing looks up at you with awe, and more than a little fear, but he somehow maintains his composure
>"Metaw hoomin is Space Mawine," he says to you, "Gweatest sowdiew of de Gawd Empwah. Why mawine hewp fwuffy?"
>Despite yourself, you feel a smile twisting your scarred features
"Rarely have I seen a creature defend the name of the God-Emperor with such conviction. I could no more abandon you to that wretched thing than one of my own brothers."
>The fluffy's eyes widen comically and he almost falls over backwards from the shock of your words
>You suspect that no human has ever had anything so kind to say to him
"Tell me, do you have a name?"
>At this the fluffy looks dejectedly at the ground
>"Nu, fwuffy nu have name. Fwuffy nu have hoomin daddeh, gwow up on stweets."
"Then how did you come by your faith in the Emperor?"
>The fluffy looks up at you in surprise
>"Space Mawine nu know? Empwah is evewywhewe. Fwuffy see Empwah on de side of hoomin safe pwaces, heaw pwiests pwaise de Empwah in de stweets. Aww fwuffy's wife fwuffy heaw about de Gawd Empwah who pwotects, his gweat powah, and his inexhaustabew awmies. Fwuffy onwy wive dis wong because of Empwah, fwuffy suw of dis. Pwaise de Gawd Empwah."
>You can feel a tear running down the side of your face
"Your faith is pure and admirable, little one. You say you have no name, and therefore I shall give you one. I shall name you Olanius. He too was a man who faced the evil of the ruinous powers with no hope of winning, but fought them regardless. You honor his legacy with your courage."
>The newly christened Olanius beams up at you
>"Owanius wuv nyu name. Tank 'ou mistah."
>He reaches a tiny hoof out to you, and you reach down to very carefully take it in your hand
>"Sssssstoopi hoomin munstah... dummeh fwuffy... de wuinous powahs... aw not so easiwy twawted..."
>You whirl, and behind you the upper half of the daemon fluffy has arisen on a column of flame and viscera, bat-like wings unfurling from its back
>The creature laughs at you through a mouth full of hideously large fangs
>It is mutating even as you watch, and the great scything claws bursting out of its nubby forearms look like they might actually be capable of harming you now
>"Smawty fwuffy can feew de Wawp ovewtaking fwuffy! It is a good owwies!"
>To your eternal shame, you are too completely dumbfounded by the sight before you to react for several seconds
>You are actually facing down a daemon possessed fluffy pony
>If you were paid, you would wager every gelt you owned that no other Space Marine has ever faced a situation this ridiculous
>Olanius, however, immediately leaps into action
>Running in front of you, he turns his fluffy backside on the creature and raises his tail
>Time seems to slow as you hear a noise like a wet cloth being torn asunder, and your nose wrinkles at the sudden smell
>The fluffy daemon shrieks in outrage as a stream of diarrhea strikes it in the face
>Olanius' courage galvanizes you into action
>Taking advantage of his smelly distraction, you seize the shrieking beast by its tiny skull, and shove a krak grenade down its gullet
>Then you grab Olanius under your arm and dive into a nearby alleyway
>Less than a second later the fluffy daemon's head is reduced to a fine mist, dropping what little is left of its corpse to the ground with a pathetic splat
>You and Olanius watch the twitching mass for several long moments, but it would seem that there is not enough of it left for the daemon to manifest itself again
>The viscera eventually melts into a bubbling puddle that leaves nothing behind but a dark red stain on the already filthy pavement
>The two of you breathe a sigh of relief
>Olanius looks up at you, and though clearly nervous, he attempts to hug the curve of your breastplate
>"Space Mawine... gib Owanyus name... Space Mawine... tink Owanyus is guud fwuffy? Be daddeh?"
>You can feel your hearts clench
>How can you explain to this courageous beast that you could never take him in?
>The life of a Space Marine allows for no pets, command would never...
>Olanius is clearly disappointed, but looks on with interest as you gently set him on the ground and connect to your vox network
"Brother Tyronicus? This is Sergeant Maximus Decimus Meridias. Do you have a moment?"
>The vox crackles in response
>"Certainly Brother-Sergeant, how may I assist you?"
"All of our battle brothers are charged with memorizing some portion of the Codex Astartes. You were given the task of memorizing the supplementary appendices, were you not?"
>Tyronicus takes a moment to reply, and his tone is ever so slightly sullen when he does so
>"...yes. Yes I was."
>You wince as you remember that he was always a bit sensitive about that
>But even a task as seemingly ignominious as that has its place
"Then you may be able to help me, brother. Tell me, what does the Codex Astartes have to say regarding mascots...?"
>Some time later your squad has rejoined the Ultramarines main force on Macragge
>Marneus Calgar himself is leading an expedition to the Madoran system to protect several colony worlds from Tau imperialism
>As the company musters, you stand at the head of your squad, armor polished, weapons gleaming, scalp freshly shorn
>Captain Gaius Tiberonicus is inspecting the troops, and he pauses to frown in your direction
>"Sergeant, what in the name of Guilliman is that thing on your pauldron?"
"Squad Mascot, lord."
>Olanius sits upright and does his best to salute
>He's been carefully washed and brushed, and his fluff is soft and shiny
>Techmarine Gearknutz made him a tiny harness with a pair of little shoulder pads and a squad banner
>Gearknutz also modified your shoulder pauldron with a few hoof holds so Olanius can perch there without falling off
>A fall from that height would turn him into a pancake, after all
>The captain stares at you for a long moment
>"... Does the Codex Astartes support this action?" he asks at last
"Yes lord. Under Chapter fifty-three subsection sixty-nine article nine, each squad is permitted to maintain one follower of sufficiently devotional temperament if doing so is deemed a benefit to the squad by their commanding officer."
>"Pwaise de Empwah!" hollers Olanius, "Gib de hewetic buwny huwties! Gib de mutant fowevew sweepies! Puwge de uncwean!"
>The captain stares at Olanius for a long moment
>"I see," he says
>Captain Tiberonicus leans in and speaks so softly that only you can hear it
>"That's cute as shit."
>Then the Captain straightens back up and continues on his way
>"Carry on!" he says to your squad
>As he passes, you grin and elbow Tyronicus affectionately in the arm
>Tyronicus simply shakes his head, and then raises his fist towards Olanius
>Olanius reaches out with his little hoof and brofists Tyronicus, and then they blow it up
>For the Emperor!
Holy fucking shit
I'm getting this weird satisfaction out of watching these creatures getting mutilated
what the fucking shit
I'm actually losing it?
I used to get sick at this shit
but now I'm growing more and more curious
I know, that because I gnaw my nails
That's normal, you're experiencing catharsis.
If you're curious enough, read this guide, i used to hate it too, but then im into this shit
It starts that way for everyone.
I already do smoke, been gnawing my nails for 17 years now (started when I was 2).
That's actually a good idea. There are some colorless nail paint out there, apparently it has a relly shitty taste, I might try it one day.
why leave a dangerous fire that needs to be smothered?
>not enjoying the absurdity
>stating the obvious on /b/
>complete loss of control over one's own Internet browser
>Accidentally clicked "fluffy" thread when meant to click "faggot/Trap" thread
You guys make me giggle every time.
If you are serious about fluffies
>Accidentally clicked "fluffy" thread when meant to click "faggot/Trap" thread
Don't look at the medium, look at the message.
Have more stories?
You immediately made me feel better about myself knowing you have nothing better to do with your life, where as I'm simply relaxing, reading articles, and enjoying some imaginary torture until my girl gets home.
>refers to Indian story he wrote
>check comments of Indian story
>so assblasted he replies to every individual hate comment
What a twatbadger.
>lowest form of neckbeard
>we hate something that isn't real
>we make pictures of these animals we made up to feel satisfaction about something we're too lazy to fix
>probably basement dwelling themselves trying to satisfy their anger
You guys still have yet to convince me.
Really unique, never seen this kind of abuse before xD
Why would you do that?! Fucking monster!
I was up a night or two ago, brain fucked up all to bits, daydreaming about chilling with a fluffy pony of my own. Shit was surreal and needed a dose of physician prescribed pharmaceuticals to even let me sleep at all.
>be 2 yo
>gnaw one of your nail
>gnaw the others
I think that's it, there's no real reason, it more of an habit I have at this point.
and still is going to eat it... fucking fluffys dude