A Series of Lavandar Antics

>Be the owner of Lavandar the fluffy pony
>He's a bit of a snark, and you're a ditz, but you make it work
>Taught him how to use the computer and Chrome
>He's a lot more capable than the other fluffies, especially for a foal, so he takes to Internet really quickly
>Walk in on him with his head in his little hooves
"You okay buddy?"
>He turns, face ashen
>Notice he's on Fluffy Pony General
"Wook at dis"
>You examine the shitposting
"Dese fagets neva' gonna hewp fwuffy wepudashun ef dey gonna shitpos' wike dis"
>He points to a particular post
"'Quadwupah Censorin''? Weawwy? Is dis wha' fwuffy pony haf descended to?"
>He gets out of the chair and walks off
"I mean, come on, it's not THAT bad"
>He keeps walking
"Where you going?"
"Wook I need... I need some time awone in da gwass fo' contempwatin'"
"Should I bring you your soda in a little bit?"
"Pwease do, hooman"
>Walk into the kitchen
>Fainly hear him again
"Faking newfags aww ova da pwace nowadays..."

--

>Be the owner of Lavandar the fluffy pony
>He's a snark, you're a ditz, it works
>You and him have just concocted the best allegory for making fun of the newfags on Fluffy Pony General
>Get awarded a couple of internets
>Arrive at the annual Internet Award Ceremony
>See a number of /b/tards, Ken Levine, and that-guy-who-made-an-IWTCIRBD-statue-and-actually-came-on-it
>The ceremony goes on
>Lavandar is engrossed in the amazing things done by the other internet-receivers
>Your names are called
>Before you can stand, Lavandar is already at the front podium, giving a speech, sitting in some buxom trophy girl's overly-generous cleavage
"...also wike to thank Mawcus, and Nay-sir-siss, or Nay-siss-sir.... da guy wif da eviw pony. Tank yoo steak nummies fo' not bein' sketties. And..."
>You scramble to get to the god-damned podium before the fucking pony forgets to give you some of the spotlight
>In addition to being a ditz, you have traits of an attentionwhore
>He looks at you, and smirks
"And tank yoo fwufflepuff fo' keepin' fwuffies in da mainstweam; GUD NIGH' EVEWY BODY!"
>He turns and shoves his face in that delicious boobage
>The attached woman giggles and walks backstage cuddling the little fuck
>Get given a much smaller Internet Award compared to Lavandar's
>Fucking fluffy ponies

--

>Be the owner of Lavandar the fluffy pony
>He's a snark, you're a ditz, it works
>Have just set your Internets on the fireplace mantle
>His is bigger than yours
"Yeah, in mowe way dan one!"
>You glare at the little foal
>His white mane and purple coat-fluff bounce as he giggles and breaks a few narrative walls
>Retire to your game room
>Fire-up the ol' 360
>Pop in MK9
>Ben's coming later this week for some Tag Ladder and Story Mode
>Lavandar walks in and plops down on your couch, watching the fighting
>Get bored with the numbing violence after a while
>Go out for a run
>Got a Bronycon to look good for in a few months
>Come home, hearing noises from the game room
"Lavandar?"
"Pwayin' Mowtaw Kombah"
>He doesn't even have any fingers
"You don't even have any fingers!"
"Dat dint botha pwetty hooman fwom Intahneh Awards"
>It's on
>Shower and change
>Start up a Versus match
"Wow, Scowpion? What a scwub choice"
>He picks fucking Ermac
>Starts beating your ass with all that psychic soul shit
>Green mist everywhere
>Can't even get a spear out
>Lose in record time
>He jumps off couch and walks towards the door
"Haven' seen poopies dat big since time yoo made dose taquidos"
>He turns his head arond
"...Wavandar know hooman stewin' in juices because yoo bad ah sub-pah fightin' game, buh can hooman pwease make dose taquidos?"
>Sigh
"Want hotsauce with that?"
"Is yo' noses funawal hooman"