boom, the dubs are already rolling in
Nope, I know the one you're talking about tho
Are you guys, like, paid to troll 4chan? Is it some kind of shill job? Or do you just have no life? It's hard to believe you would be so dedicated without some kind of real incentive.
it is kinda weird
it's not like there's a record that needs to be corrected here or anything
These threads are pure autism, I'm gonna fit right in.
I don't understand why people abuse Alicorns, In the lore they are literaly the way fluffies are meant to be.
They're smart (smarter than any non-alicorn fluffy) They tend to be better looking. And literally they're rarer than any fluffy and are worth almost a small fortune. Even the ferals.
YOUR AUTISM IS NOT WELCOME HERE, GET THE FUCK OUT!
I never got the sense Buwwito knew much about alicorns after
>ywn just fill your whole fucking trashcan up to the brim with dirt
why even live?
no worries fam
anything you wanna see more of?
have you seen this one? Skippy by Gr1im_1?
I'll assume that's a no, let's do some skippy
well that doesn't happen too often in fluffy threads so enjoy anon
but sadly th-th-that's all folks! Fortunately, Gr1m_1 is still active and updates this and other stuff regularly so feel free to keep abreast at the booru:
Gonna dump some carpdime while I look for a new smarty abuse comic to post
and also taking a dump brb
feel free to post more retarded ponies of your own tho lads
only shitposters since I left
Alrighty, story time
>it really fucks you up thinking about how Cambodians used to have shooting ranges with actual livestock on them as targets
>you appreciate a good steak like any red blooded patriot out there
>but there's a line you don't cross with an animal's dignity dammit
>"You still insulting Cambodian people in your head?" your wife asks impatiently
>"No sweetie, just...thinkin diplomatic thoughts about em is all" you reply lamely, accepting the offered AR-15
>not the most entertaining shot, but you just got to the range and want to warm up with something reliable
>"Well hurry it up, we're gettin' ready to go here"
>you try to ignore the sway of her hips as you follow her to the table where your two kids are milling about
>only ogle one sort of equipment at a time, your old man used to say
>yeah, he was full of specific advice like that..
>the kids are checking out their ordinance, a great big M2HB
>you got them $400 worth of ammo to shoot because you're a great dad
>"Alrighty everybody, are you all here and ready to get started?" the attendant asks for the millionth time
>you're a responsible gun owner but these guys and their safety checks sometimes..
>"Great, well you're in luck today - we just got a mega-herd in and they'll be wandering past the treeline any second now"
>these guys run a pretty sick double-business model
>people are so desperate to get fluffy herds off their farmland they pay to have them shipped away
>as one of the few organizations that takes them, the range turns around and sets them right up in the field just before the forest backstop
>even now you can see the rainbow starting to shuffle out
>"Dad! I see 'em!" your daughter confirms just after
>she's finally old enough to wear a shooters badge
>"You kids ready to have some fun?"
>you dramatically slide the action on your gun - admittedly wasting a bullet in the process
>you don't care, you'll pay for it, but money just can't buy that satisfaction
>"Peshuw fwen!" your mate calls to you from the cloud of rolling soon-mothers
>she's a pretty, white fluffed affair, and a rather fierce nest-partner hiding behind a charming smile and experience to share with the newer mothers
>it's a surge of prideful warmth to reflect that that experience comes from the number of times you bred the little minx yourself
>yes indeed, life is good at the top
>surrounded by your kin and your own, who form the web of your vast fluffy empire
>there are more fluffies than you think there are ones to count them with
>many of whom are from smaller herds you drove to submission and assimilated with your iron hoof
>"Peshuw fweeeeeeeen!!" your mate calls again, an impatient whine to her voice
>not now woman, you're busy
>yes you must have overcome countless obstacles at this point to reach the success you have
>not the least of which was yelling at the humans who put you in the roaring crates until they brought you to these greener pastures
>already the herd has begun grazing in this idyllic field
>the soon-mothers will eat well tonight, and that brings happiness to you
>any good, honest fluffy couldn't help love the sight of new life brought into the world
>your enemies are conquered and your herd swells and thrives
>that is best in life
>"PESHUW FW-OOMPH!" you put your hoof over your mate's mouth before she can finish screaming in your face
>you don't trifle with that whore shit
>"Yes speshaw fwend?" you ask once you're good and ready
>"Pwah! Smawty, soon-mummahs say dey am tiwed an haf head sickies" your mate reports
>the soon-mothers are sick from being rolled around all day, so be it
>"Teww odda smawties we west hewe den" you say, dismissively
>this is a good spot, you're inclined to think - you can see any approaching predators, the grass is lush, green and ripe for eating
>it's also very pretty which is a major bonus
>you settle in and wait for your mate to return to you for the evening
>life is good
>"Alright Brandon you're gonna open up with that thing and then your mother, Cindy and I are all gonna just go to town" you tell your son
>strapping young lad, if you and your completely unbiased opinion say so yourselves
>right now he's got his hands on an honest-to-god China Lake
>ranges these days..
>"Yessir" your son sounds off - on point and respectful like your little soldier ought to be
>"Okay, ready? FIVE!"
>"H-howd on..." your mate mumbles, and just as you were starting to nuzzle up to her
>she's on to something though, a lot of the fluffies are looking down away from the trees
>now that you're paying attention, you hear it too
>the barking shouts of humans
>you stand up from your impromptu nest to get a better look
>yep, there they are, not even that far from where your herd set up
>you curse yourself for missing them
>you look around for your firstborn, and second in command
>hey, nothing beats a bit of nepotism
>you lock eyes with him about forty meters away, and a simple nod communicates he lead his toughies to recon
>okay, it's a little less simple, he slowly tries to work through it while staring right at you
>whatever, he'll get it eventually, your firstborn has never let you down
>big and strong, you know he'll be smarty of the herd one day
>that will be such a proud day
>yyyep, just looking into your son's eyes you can see the same burning passion for leadership that stokes the mighty engine of your soul
>the world goes insane
>something wet splashes your face
>you hope it's not water, you hate water
>it's bad for fluffies.
>you turn to your mate to see if maybe she like..spat on you or something weird
>but her eyes are wider than the sky-ball and she doesn't seem to hear you when you speak
>actually..you can't hear you when you speak
>what is she looking at with her dumb open mouth?
>something wet splashes your face
>you look over your shoulder to follow her gaze - over where your son should be
>your herd is scampering too and fro
>what you notice first is the column of fluffies and fluffy-coloured chunks in the air
>a high pitched ringing noise comes into focus in your mind
>a disembodied leg lands beside you
>how long have you been making the same dumb face as your mate?
>something rolls across the ground towards you, bumping into you
>it's your son's head
>something wet splashes your face
>"WOOOOOOOOO!!" You holler, "Right in the fucking middle of 'em!!"
>ignoring your wife's reminder to watch your language around the kids you clap a fond hand on your son's shoulder
>he's just beaming
>your daughter doesn't waste a second with the browning
>music to your ears it really is
>you raise your M15 and open fire
>the fluffies are in a panic, all ambling around
>you can see the terror in their eyes as their friends are snuffed out around them
>your son blew a spectacular crater with his grenade - the body parts are still falling out of the sky
>firing indiscriminately into the herd has the satisfying effect of scoring kills with just about every other bullet
>a rifle like yours takes ugly chunks out of a fluffy's soft tissue, quickly staining the killing ground with red and viscera
>whereas anywhere your daughter aims, entire bodies simply come apart as if they'd forgotten the basics of holding together
>your wife, always the picky sort, focuses instead on precision shots, picking off fluffies who break from the bulk of the herd
>even above your gunfire you can hear the retarded wailing begin to carry down the hill
>that is best in life
>"EEEEEEEEEEEE NU WIKE NU WIKE NU WIKE PWEASE STAHP!!!"
>you don't know how long it's been since the world exploded but all you've done is run
>run and shove your way through panicking fluffies
>where's your mate? there's no time to look
>there's only time to run and shove and ignore the screaming and the begging and the distant roar of whatever monster is hurting your herd
>"MUMMAH! MUMMAAAAAAAAAH!!!" A foal screams in front of you
>you don't want to walk on her, she's so little and precious and just a baby
>but another fluffy bumps into you and you stumble and then she's just booboo juice under your hoof
>and you can't even hug her better because you have to run
>something whistles past you and makes a "TAK" in the dirt to your left
>the three fluffies it went through have big awful holes torn through them as they get flung down
>you clamber over one that's still crying for help
>"Sowee fwend.." you whimper to him as you pass
>there's more violent "TAKTAKTAKTAK"ing all around you, making you huddle up in fear that you'll get a hole blown in you too
>you don't, but once the scary noise moves on you can see you're one of the few fluffies exposed to it that can still stand
>a fluffy whose see places are leaking down his face tries to hug your leg but you shake him off and keep running
>the herd's gotten a little more sparse over the course of two minutes of continuous fire
>also your hands feel like you've been pushing the mower around for a whole afternoon
>you and the kids are starting to pick your shots now, the basic thrill of unloading into a crowd of fluffies having been tided over
>you're getting pretty good at scoring hits to different parts of the fluffies
>a nutshot here, a quick amputation there
>"Pink mare on the left, five foals" your son calls out, prompting the lot of you to start picking her screeching foals off her back one by one
>your daughter waits for the mare to start clumsily trying to put the mess of foal guts back together before popping her with a .50 cal
>stastically speaking, this range alone is responsible for 40% of the recent reduction in shool shootings, and that's according to the FBI
>you can see why
>you would strongly recommend the pasttime to any responsible parent
>now let's see if you can find your son another grenade
>"HuuuuuuUUUUUHUUUUUUUUUUUU!!! AAAAAAAAH OWWIIIEEEESS!! WAN MUMMUUUUH!"
>no no no not your special friend
>not like this
>her leg is...you don't even want to look
>"Is otay! Smawty hewe!" You tell her shakily
>you won't leave her, not for anything
>"Smawty hewe, make it aww bettah!"
>"WAAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAH!! PWEAS NU HUWTIES TO FWUFFY!!!"
>fluffy? No no no special friend how did you forget you're a mummah?
>she doesn't even seem to realize you're there talking to her
>"O-otay! Smawty g-get peshuw fwend to tweesies. S-safe in tweesies!"
>it's way easier being brave when you're doing it for someone else
>you wrap your leggies around your mate and start slowly dragging her across the red-stained grass
>it's hard, even harder when she starts screaming in pain
>you hate hurting her...
>but when another spray of loud noises shatters the ground near you you remember what the alternative is
>it's so hard dragging your mate, you can feel your strong legs protesting
>you have to stop to let another fluffy who somehow caught on fire run past you
>you're starting to get away from the bulk of the herd
>looking back you can see a lot of them have recollected into a fluff pile and are just squeezing their eyes shut and hugging
>your heart aches to join them and just let the bad feelings wash away in soft fluff
>but you close yourself off to that longing and focus back on your mate
>she is your future, she is all you need
>a faint whistling is all the warning you have before something slams into you, sending you pitching forward
>you can't hear anything again, and it takes you a moment to remember what's happening
>you don't waste any time getting to your feet - who knows when the world will explode again
>you wrap your front leggies back around your mate and when you push off against the ground she's so light you lose your footing
>oh no...you can see why
>when the world exploded it took half of her body with her!
>and the tummy babies she was going to have with you
>something wet splashes your face
>you close your eyes as hard as you can and swallow the lump in your throat but you can't help it
>a lot of wet somethings splash your face
>"I thought you knew how to aim those things," your daughter remarks
>"Shut up!" Your son shoots back, "it was the wind and you know it."
>"What's the blue one doing to that corpse? Eww is he-?"
>"Dear, I don't really want to hear you finish that thought."
>"Just saying that's what it looks like."
>"I think he's the smarty leader. I saw him organizing some others earlier."
>"Huh.. He does have a horn. Good catch sweetie."
>"P-Peshuw fwen.." your mate murmers
>there's booboo juice oozing out of her mouth
>"Is otay! Is otay smawty make bettah! Smawty fix! Gif bestest huggies! Aww bad dweam!" You assure her
>you don't think it's true, and that makes you feel even worse that you said it
>you want to keep dragging her out of here but she needs emergency, battlefield aid
>you look around to make sure there are no more hurty noises and then wrap your mate up in the warmest hug you can manage
>"Is otay smawty hewe, smawty keep bestest fwuffy safe from owwies. Aww owwies gu way now," you murmer
>she's shuddering and shivering and breathing way too fast but you don't stop hugging
>"Gu way gu way meanie owwies," you chant, "nu mowe owwies to soon-mummah."
>your voice breaks when you think about the precious babies your mate will never have
>"Pwease..." your mate rasps, "Pweas nu owwies..nu foweba sweepies..soon-mummah wan wiv.."
>"Aww bettah soon, smawty pwomise!" You tell her. She's so soft and warm, even now it's no wonder you love her
>"Owwies.." she weeps, "owwies...nu su huwtie anymowe peshuw fwend..gud huggies."
>"G-Gud huggies!" You bleat, stupid with joy but not caring "smawty gif bestest huggies see? Aww bettah!"
>"Wuv smawty.." Oh God it's getting better, she's getting better you're gonna be okay
>"S-Soon-mummah awways wuv smawty but..n-neba teww smawty enuff..Mummah weawwy wuv yu smawty"
>"G-gonna make new hewd wiff smawty.." She promises you, "gonna gi-*kaff*-gib smawty bestest new babbehs and biggest hewd wiff smaw-"
>the back of her head explodes
>Your son is literally doubled over with laughter
>even your wife has an uncharacteristic smirk of satisfaction as she lowers the scope from her eye
>"Oh my God did you see his face!" The young lad is almost in tears
>"NUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!! NU NU NUUUUU!! WYYYYY?!?" You scream, whirling to face the distant roaring monster
>"JUS GIF FWUFFY A CHANCE! JUS A CHANCE!!"
>you stand on your hind legs and spread your forelegs apart, still howling threats and obscenities
>whatever final ounce of light was in you is snuffed forever
>the damn monster took EVERYTHING from you
>you don't even know what you're saying anymore
>you hate it
>you've never hated anything like you hate that monster
>you're not even scared anymore
>you just wish you were big and strong like a human
>then you could make them so sorry for what they did
>then you wouldn't just be screaming at them to come and fight you
>"So uh..whaddya think it's doin?"
>you're all down to the last few rounds, and they're yours to fire
>you've got the sky-blue fuzzball in your sights and he's peacocking like an angry, impotent little carebear
>"Dunno, but you should take 'im out dad," your boy says
>you grunt and look back at the smarty
>he looks pissed
>hell, he IS pissed
>who wouldn't be?
>who wouldn't be..
>with another grunt, you take careful aim and squeeze the trigger
>the ground bursts in front of the fluffy, snapping him out of his fury and sending him scampering away towards the trees
>no one says anything as you watch him go
>everyone knows better than to question your aim
>just before he disappears behind the first tree, you think you see him take one last look at you
Foal trap, see
>sold by weight
>bag weighed down by shit and piss
Post more Carpdime
Was legit gonna post the same question? It happens especially with "smarty fluffies" and I think It has something to do with "Cute aggression" where our bodies react aggressively to things we find cute mixed with karmic retribution.
Fluffies in general don't make sense. Their species is as easily kill able as human skin cells, yet have a thriving population. Enough so that slaughter factories can have hundreds die in mere seconds without it affecting the population. Then they have shits and farts so toxic that it's flammable, even domestic fluffies, yet can only kill themselves, their babies, and plants.
Just don't question it.