The idea of a field trip with Lyler is nothing short of horrifying to you. When Lyra first asked you to keep her sister occupied for the day, your immediate response was to scream and vomit into her flower planters. It wasn’t even a conscious reaction; your body went into fight-or-vomit and acted accordingly. But after some convincing that may or may not have involved a fat stack of pony coin, you decided that a few hours out and about wouldn’t be that bad.

Chalk one more point in the “Stupid Decisions Made By Anon” column.

At least you had the sense to go someplace where Lyler’s collateral damage could be kept to a minimum, namely a cave. This particular cave is one you’ve passed by many times—it’s not too far away from the spot you go to get drunk and forget everything you’ve seen these past years—but you’ve never actually been inside. You figure today is as good a day as any to give it a shot. And who knows? Maybe the little creature will get lost inside, never to be found again! That would just be an absolute tragedy.

With these happy thoughts in your head, you march unsteadily up the hillside with Lyler drooling and clinging to your foot, making a small snail trail behind you as you limp along.

“WE GO TO PARP?” she bleats.

“No, Lyler,” you groan. “For the fifth time, we’re not going to the park. We’re going someplace new, okay?”

“OKAAAAY!” she wails with glee or disappointment.

This can only go well.

“DO YOU HAZ MAH TENDIIIIIEEEEEE-” Lyler screeches, her voice slowly morphing into an incomprehensible, gurgling hiss.

“Yes,” you sigh. “I have them.”

To demonstrate, you raise the picnic basket you’re carrying and shake it. Inside, the multiple cartons of tendies rattle softly. You got every kind of dip you could think of, but you doubt Lyler cares about that. She’d probably eat them with dirt as long as you told her it was tendie sauce.

Lyler suddenly makes a squealing, velociraptor-like noise and starts swiping at the basket with the energy of a hundred starving beavers.

“GIMME!”

“Not until we get to where we’re going,” you grunt, holding it just out of reach. Lyler still hasn’t quite figured out jumping, so it’s not that hard. When she eventually calms down, you continue your trek towards the cave, the filthy, whining pony still clinging to your ankle.

The cave isn’t too far now; you can make out the entrance beyond the trees and bushes lining the trail. You hold a childish hope that things will get better for you once you’re inside.

“REEEEEEEE!”

Maybe some rocks will fall down from above and crush you. Yeah, that would be nice.

“ARE WE THERE YET?”

“No, Lyler. We aren’t there yet.”

“HOW BOUT NOW?”

You don’t even bother answering.

Stepping through the trees into a small clearing, you stop dead in your tracks to avoid falling into a large hole. Lyler, however, has no such instinct for self-preservation. She finally releases your leg, then bounds past you.

“WHEEEEEEEE!” you hear her quickly diminishing voice scream as she tumbles down the hole.

Some part of you is almost tempted to leave her, but you know Lyra will be very angry if you do that. For some reason. Grumbling to yourself, you follow the defective pony down the hole, but with less tumbling and more hands.

You note how steep the tunnel is in places; hopefully you’ll be able to get out the same way. You can’t imagine a worse scenario than being entombed alive with Lyler. Then again, there’s a decent chance that a cave-in could happen, killing the both of you in one fell swoop. The world would finally be rid of the most pathetic waste of cells and Lyler.

It’s pretty telling that you’re returning to this topic. Stop it. Get some help.

The cave is dark. Really dark. Darker than that piece of toast you burned last week. Shame you didn’t bring a flashlight, not that ponies have that level of technology anyway. Sure, they have microwaves and ovens and slot machines and roller coasters, but flashlights are beyond them for whatever reason. You’re pretty sure you saw a light bulb at some point, but goodness knows that no one in their right mind would ever think to put one on the end of a STICK and let you walk around with it. Also, you’re pretty sure batteries aren’t a thing because everything here is magic. Where was this train of thought going? Oh, right, it’s DARK as SHIT in here. Looks like you'll have to make do with straining your eyeballs to see as you go further in.

You can still hear Lyler, so that gives you some idea of which direction to go. Putting your hand against the right wall, you carefully shuffle your feet forward so you’ll only stub your toe at worst instead of slamming your face into a rock.

After what feels like a nondescript amount of time, you see a faint light far down the tunnel in front of you. You take a pause and take a few calculations of whether it’s better to catch up to Lyler and suffer her presence, or to just stay in the darkness and risk a whole myriad of bullshit that happens in dark caves, including, but not limited to: death, stubbing your toe, being captured and eaten alive by spiders twice your size, getting lost and slowly starving to death, stumbling into another dimension, slowly transforming into a creature of the night from some sort of alien substance, being unable to make a down payment on the house you planned to live in, getting fired, getting fired again, being assaulted by a manbearpig, getting chased by sock hoarding gremlins, running into Red Anon (that dirty, slimy fucker), being sent to a gulag, migraines, falling into lava, headache, getting stabbed in the ass with a cordless drill by that douche named Strato, nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea, yay Pepto Bismol, grinding for three hours straight only to forget to save your progress because of course you’ve got two fucking tents in your inventory why didn’t you use them you dumb cunt now you’re getting pegged by a giant rat that for some reason is nine levels higher than any of your party members...

...Yeah, maybe sticking to the light is a good idea.

However, as you get closer to the light source, you stop dead in your tracks. There’s no way that could be Lyler. Her? Performing structured, regular magic? The idea is about as sensible as the fact that a FULL GROWN MAN IS BABYSITTING A MENTALLY DEFICIENT LYRA CLONE RIGHT NOW, so have fun parsing that logic.

Reaching the bottom of the winding rock path, you discover that Lyler has NOT figured out how to use magic properly, which is both a godsend and kind of sad, but instead has distracted herself with something far more mundane: her reflection. The light itself seems to be coming off of the surface of the small pond of water that seems to have pooled at the bottom of this cave, the luminescence and dark stone backdrop of the bottom of the lake turning the surface of the water into a perfect mirror.

Knowing pony propensity for lazy naming schema, it’s probably called something stupid like the Mirror Pool.

You approach the pool cautiously, and pause beside Lyler. She’s looking down into it, mouth agape. Slowly, she moves her head one way, then the other, then back again like some sort of OCD pidgeon. It would almost be endearing if you didn’t know the mare better. Still, you decide to try.

“Do you like your reflection, Lyler?”

She’s silent.

“It’s… you, you know,” you try in vain to explain. “That’s what you look like.”

Silence.

“Lyler, hello?”

You knock on her head, and it makes a sound like a hollowed coconut. You’re about to shake the mare, fearing she’s gone comatose, when she suddenly tips back her head and lets out a warbling cry.

“LOOK AT MEEEEEEE, DO YOU THINK YOU SEEEEE WHO I REALLY AAAAAAM…”

You clap your hands over your ears.

“Jesus christ Lyler, what are you doing?!”

“IMMA DIDNEY® PRINZESS!”

“You are not, you’re a fucking horse!”

“HORSE PRINZESS!”

The off-key scream singing continues.

“WHOOOOOO ISSSS THAT GIRL I SEEEEEEEE, STARING STRAAAAAIGHT BAAAACK AT MEEEEEE...”

You let out an exhausted groan, and hold up the picnic basket, your one saving grace.

“Lyler! Tendies! If you stop singing, we can eat tendies!”

That shuts her up. She spins in place, grinning, with mucus dribbling out from between her teeth.

“YES TENDIES NAO.”

You back away from the pool, luring her like a demented salavating infant away from the edge of the water. Well, at least you know she’s food motivated.

This could prove to be useful. Perhaps as long as you have tendies on you, this won’t be a living hell.

However, Lyler’s patience seems to be nearly non-existent.

“GIB TENDIES NAO! NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!” NAONAONAONAONAAAOOOOOAOAOAOAAOAOAOAOAOAOAAAAAAOOON!” She screams as though she will violently die if she doesn’t get her tendies immediately.

Not wanting to subject your ears to continual torture, you start handing her tendies. Before you even have a chance to stretch your arm to full length, she eats them out of your hand, her saliva oozing onto your fingers.

But as tendies tend to be salty, they tend to make you thirsty.

“NEED DRING!”

For fuck’s sake.

Leading Lyler right back to the pool, you grab her head, dunk it straight into the water, and hold it there for a good minute or so. Eventually, you pull her back up and quickly drag her away so she doesn’t go on another Didny^® faggot tirade again.

“THANDS ANON, I FEEL VERY MOIST NOW. HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN”

With that, she begins pissing on the floor with Mach-5 force. Even you’re impressed at how loud she’s pissing. It’s even managing to echo. You ever heard piss echo? It’s quite the sound. Also, she somehow made a pool-sized puddle with her piss. Fuck, it’s getting onto your shoes. You quickly back away, returning to the non-piss pool in hopes of washing off your shoes.

“ANON WERE ARE WE.”

You turn back to your lovely, retarded friend, seeing her roll in her own piss for... Okay, there’s no reason at all to do that, much less a good reason. That’s just fucking disgusting. Like, there’s being gross about chewing your food, and then there’s this. Literally wallowing in horse urine. Which, to be fair, isn’t an outstanding qualifier in a world full of colorful horses, but to you, it’s just barely above the idea of a fat neckbeard roommate who doesn’t know how to fap quietly or at polite times of the day.

You carefully pick up the piss-soaked horse, trying to keep it as far away from you as possible, and slam dunk her into the pool. If Michael Jordan could see this shit… well he’d probably report you for animal abuse. Lebron James would be like “Hey man cool dunk why are we in magical horseland again?”

Deciding that letting Lyler roam on her own would be a questionable decision (but, then again, this whole fucking adventure is highly questionable, so I have no clue why you’re worried about more questionable questionables), you wrap her up in Flex Tape, with only her head poking out of the black, undefeatable mess of adhesive strips, and begin walking with her under your arm.

Good thing you listened to your lord and savoir Phil Swift, otherwise you may never have bought Flex Tape™ in bulk. Maybe if you pray hard enough he come whisk you away from this world in a spaceship built out of wonderful product.

“AONO LOOK, THERE'S ANOTHER POL AHERAE D OF US!” With that, she leaks out of her Flex Tape prison and qwops over to the new, non-piss tainted pool ahead of you.

In some movies, especially older ones that appeal to housewives and no one else, there is a scene where a guy watches a beautiful girl prance through a meadow, and the color pallette has changed and the music starts to swell all romantic-like. The man see the very incarnation of beauty and feels butterflies in his stomach, and he thinks he might be the luckiest man in the world.

This is nothing like that.

You see your life flash before your eyes, and you start wondering if there is a Hell after all, and you wonder if you’ll be going there after all this is done. Is it possible to go to Hell simply because you let a complete imbecile clone herself with a magical pool?

Maybe.

You think as you watch in horror, Is this it? Is this really what my life has led up to? Why am I still here? Just to suffer? Just to bear witness to the mass production of Lyler clones, have them reproduce like bunnies (only not so much) and take over the world with sheer numbers and idiocy? Why did I never go to Disney World as a kid? Fuck you, Dad! You were never there for me when I was growing up! I’m about to join the ranks of Adolf Hitler and Dick Cheney because Flex Tape™failed me. It couldn't save my parents’ marriage, and I guess it can’t save the world from total destruction either. Are you there, God? It’s me, Anon! You might recognize me from such award-winning shows as “Whatever Happened to Robot Jones?” and “My Gym Partner’s a Monkey.” Remember those? I needed the money at the time...

Your internal monologuing lasts longer than you expect. Either that or time literally stopped and has yet to restart, or Lyler is just really slow once she has nobody to resist her pony princess nonsense.

“What a tragic situation indeed!” queefs the raven.

And then— Lyler falls.

With a gurgling cry of joy, like that of a baby who has just shit itself, the mare tumbles forward, out of your lunging grasp, and into the pool. There’s an echoing splash, and you stare at the place she’s fallen in horror. A small stream of bubbles works its way up from the darkness, creating ripples across the surface. Does this accursed creature even know how to swim? You’re pretty sure she doesn’t. Maybe she’ll float at least? You’re sure her head is mostly full of air anyway. But, surprisingly, she doesn’t come to the surface. Looks like you’ll have to save her.

You’re about to peel off your now soiled shirt to dive in after her, when you stop.

But, I mean, do you really though? Do you really need to save her? This is a horrible accident, she just fell in, all on her own. No one could really blame you, could they?

You watch the bubbles come up to the top, fewer and fewer, and continue your internal debate. Maybe if you take long enough, the decision will just make itself for you!

Then, to your admitted very mild relief, a green head bobs up past the surface and takes a sputtering gasp. Well, it seems she does float after all.

“I MADE BUBBLES!” She crows proudly.

You sigh.

“Yes, Lyler. You made bubbles.”

“With my BUTT!”

“...sure, okay.”

“THIS IS A MUD PUDDLE NOW!”

You step a little bit away from the pool which does seem a touch cloudier now. Yeah, outing over, it’s time you headed back and put Lyler into Lyra’s hooves once more for safe keeping. You’ve definitely earned that extra dosh today.

“Okay, get out of there, we’re going to eat tendies at home.”

“OKAAAAY.”

She splooshes her way towards the side, like a three legged puppy just doing his gosh-darndest to swim. You lean down to give her a reluctant hand out, when suddenly there’s another splash behind her. You look up to find… another Lyler??

“I CAME FROM DA NOTHING!” She shrieks.

The first Lyler turns around, see’s the other version of her, and gasps so hard that she breathes in some water and almost kills herself again.

“MY BUTT HAD A BABY!” she gurgles.

You stand there, simply dumbfounded. What are you seeing? Your eyes must be playing tricks on you, cave fumes or something. There can’t really be another Lyler! But, sure enough, both ponies now make their way over towards you and clamor out. While the one looks as wall-eyed and giddy as ever. This new one seems a little… off. Half of her face and body is drooping, like she’s had some sort of stroke. She drools a white froth, that bubbles out like a foaming soap dispenser.

Under the pressure of what you are seeing, something in your little caveman mind finally snaps. You shake your head.

“I… I can’t do this,” you wheeze. “You, uh… Lyler Two. Can you just… go back to the darkness, where you came from?”

Stroke Lyler tries to smile at you, but only half her face moves. In a slightly slurred version of Lyler’s usual squealing, she burbles out one word.

“Erkaaaaaay!”

Without any further explanation, she jumps back into the pool. Your Lyler turns to watch her. She seems… notably distressed. Before you can do anything to stop her, she rears back her head and unleashes a battle cry.

“NUUUUUUU I’LL SAVE YOU PRETTY LADY!”

With that, she leaps back into the pool as well.

Seriously, this time, you’re going to leave her there. You turn to go, but then you hear more splashing behind you, and turn to find…

FOUR. FUCKING. LYLERS.

You let out a sharp, animal cry and topple over backwards. You try to scurry away, but you can only watch in amazed horror as all four mares get out of the pool, look at each other, and make various unintelligible noises. One seems to be missing her eyes, and one seems to be, thankfully, mute.

What is even happening? Is this hell? Did you find a portal to hell somehow? Of course, hell would be full of various versions of Lyler…

But no, it must be the pool! Something about them jumping into the pool seems to replicate them! You realize this, just as the four join hooves and turn back to the pool.

“Cannonbaaaaaawl!” they all yell in unison.

You call out for them to stop, but all four leap into the water at once. You have to run, have to hide before it happens again, but… oh god, it’s going faster this time! Eight Lylers come up, all of them just slightly different, one twitching and making guttural noises, one without any front limbs so it just bumps up against the side.

You turn, ready to run, and find…. FOUR MORE??

How did this happen? Why…

And then you remember that these ones must be your fault. You did this. You dunked her into that pool to get the piss off, and from there, they must have been replicating out of sight, like that broken school copier in the library you once scanned your butt on. Dear god, the butts wouldn’t stop coming and they don’t stop coming and they don’t stop coming and they don’t stop coming and they don’t stop coming and they-

“ANERN!” you hear a Lyler yell. “ANERN WE LURVE YOU!”

You don’t want their lerve. You don’t want any of this.

“S-stay back,” you stutter out as you back away, hoping your headed to the entrance. In the back, you can see two of the Lylers taking turns popping in and out of the pool, creating a steady supply of mint-colored mental nightmares.

“BUT ANUNE!” One says, speech heavily slurred. “WE JUS WANNA GIBE YOU OUR LUBE.”

Okay, you don’t know if they mean actual lube or love, and you don’t want to wait around to find out.

Some part of you hoped this would stop. It thought that maybe this nightmare would stop on its own. But it isn’t happening. They aren’t self-regulating. There’s just more and more of them!

You thought maybe they would get bored with replication. You thought maybe they’d all be so fucking collectively stupid via deindividuation that they’d all just forget how to breathe without you telling them to. You wished, somewhere deep in your mind, where the last of your hopes and dreams lie, that they’d go all Highlander on each other until there was only one left, and you could fucking epoxy glue her to a stick or something and just javelin her ass back to Ponyville.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for this. Not only are there more than one of them, not only are they increasing in number by the minute, but somehow, against all magical horse logic, they’ve become…

Individuals. Government’s biggest enemy.

They’ve also learned how to open doors.

The collective shudder throughout the multiverse by each and every Anon reverberates on such a wavelength that it echoes back to the core of your being and emanates from your body in the only natural response. Screaming.

“WHAT. THE ACTUAL. FUCK.”

“Oh shut your fucking knob-slobberer you massive cuntmayor,” growls one of the Lylers. “You think we all WANT to be here?! FUCK no. I’d rather just get sniped by a stray testicle than hang around with this retardathon.”

You have decided you like this Lyler. She probably annotates lyrics on Genius and overanalyzes Earl Sweatshirt songs. Truly it must be love at first sight! Hopefully she has a midget dick as well. The last girl you dated had a bigger pee-pee than you, which really helped (in that it utterly destroyed) your self-esteem.

You have only one hope, you realize. The tendies. There is a chance that all these Lylers love chicken tenders, and if that’s the case, you have a chance for a diversion. You’ll need to bring back one of these things to Lyra, in place of her sister, but will she care which one? At this point, you really don’t give a fuck. Besides, you suspect the asshole one is probably an improvement. Cuntler. Yeah, that’s vaguely clever. At least she might be competent.

“H-hey Lylers?” you call out, as you pick up your picnic basket.

They all turn in unison and emit various noises of recognition. As if they’re a flock of demented chickens, ready to commit cannibalism. You hold up the basket, and again they make a series of weird sounds in response.

“TENDIES!?” they cry out together.

Good, you were at least right about something.

With abandon, you throw the basket towards the lot of them. Tendies spill out of it like meat-flavored confetti, giving the cave a warm, cheap, low-class kind of smell. There’s a moment of perfect stillness and silence around you as the stream of tendies floats through the air. Then, all hell breaks loose.

Lylers scream, leaping over each other to get their sweet, precious chicken. They cry out in obscenities and unintelligible sounds, and you can see blood fly through the air to sauce the tendies beautifully. Luckily, as you hoped beyond any other hope, the tendies are enough to make them entirely forget about your existence for a moment. It’s just long enough for you to make a break for it.

You grab Cuntler, the obvious best replacement Lyler, and place her onto your back, before making a mad dash out of there. Lyler will somehow get out alive, so you don’t feel any need to worry about her. Maybe you could also watch her clones all die in hilariously unsafe ways as they try to escape to the surface.

Suddenly, today just became a lot better.

Then Twilight fucking Sparkle shows up. Because of course she does.

“Anon,” she says with an exasperated sigh. “What did you do.”

“I didn’t fucking do ANYTHING!” you practically scream at her. “Like usual, it was this… this… thing!”

You gesture up at the scowling pony on your back. Twilight looks up at it, then back down at you and shakes her head.

“Put down the clone,” she says coldly. “You know that’s not the real deal.”

“Y-you don’t know that!”

“Yes,” she says evenly. “I do. And I can’t have you randomly replacing citizenry, even if it is that… thing. Put the clone down.”

Helpless against Twilight’s bullshit alicorn magic, you set down Cuntler. She glares at the princess, then at you. Then, she spits at your feet in open disgust.

“You fucking pussy,” she hisses at you.

Without another word, she floats up into the air, surrounded by a purple glow of magic. Twilight shoves the clone back into the cave, and after a moment, another dumber looking mare is yanked magically back to the surface. She looks up directly at the sun, stares at it a moment, then screams.

“THE DAY STAR IS FIGHTING MY EYE HOLES!” She cries, still staring unblinkingly at the sun. “BUT IMMA WIN, WATCH!”

Yep, it’s the real Lyler.

You almost want to break down and cry. You were so close, SO CLOSE to getting rid of her, and you even had a better version of her to take home. You could have learned to swear better, you could have had your life back! Instead… you have… this. Lyler finally spots you, stumbles over, and hugs you around the waist so tightly that she pukes a little on your crotch.

Yep. You have this.

You look up to Twilight, with tears in your eyes. She’s still glaring at you, like she’s waiting for some form of apology. After a moment, it becomes clear that she’s not going to get it, and she sighs before pointing in the direction of Ponyville.

“Take her home,” Twilight says. “Now.”

“But what about…?”

You gesture broadly at all of the screaming fuckery in the cave behind you. Twilight looks at you, then at the cave, then shuts her eyes and her horn begins to glow. With a low, earth-shaking rumble, the stones around the entrance to the cave seem to disintegrate. You watch as, just as you repeatedly predicted, the rock face slides and morphs in a terrible cave in, sealing the Lyler hoard inside the cave. You don’t know if you’re more relieved or shocked that Twilight has basically just commited mass murder. She opens her eyes, and again fixes you with a glare.

“We will never speak of this again,” she says darkly. “I needed to seal that cave up anyway for obvious reasons. Is that crystal clear?”

You resist the urge to make a pun involving caves and crystals, and instead just nod. It is not the time for puns, you reflect, things have gotten far to rocky right now.

...god damn it.

“Good,” she barks at you. “Now go.”

With your knees still shaking, you turn away from the sealed-up cave of Lylers, and trudge towards town, dragging Lyler by her mane behind you. She seems totally unbothered by the experience, as she wriggles in the dirt at your side.

“ANERN,” she says. “WHY IS YOUR FACE MAKING EYEBALL JUICE?”

Tears of deep, permanently emotionally scarring regret stream down your cheeks as you solemnly and silently drag her back towards home.

------

Maud stares at the chaos in front of her from the little cubby hole inside of the cave, and says, “This is so sad, Alexa, play Despacito three.” la di la di da, slob on me knob C̟̅͘H̳̀̊͢͞IͯḊ̹ͧ̓̆D̙̖̋Y ̠҉C̺̬̜͊̿Ḧ͚̩͟I͉͈̪D̸͐D̖̤̙̈́Y̴͉͍̘ ̶̭̻̙̀B͚ͤͭ͗A͕ͯ͛N̰͎̭͎G̝̈ͤ̇,̲̇̅ͣ ̇̏M͊͡U̝ͭ͋D̸ȑ͖ͧE̷̯̤̊R͎͆ ̠ͩ̾̔͊Ę̒̾͢V̡E̻̭͉͛R̖͝Y̶̛͊͢T̫H͈̿̚͞ͅIͦ͞NͦG̷͎ PẠ̉͛͢͠S̸̸̟̪̫̜̹̬̟̿̊̑̓͌ͬͅ͏͙S̵̠͚̾ ̭͑Ṁ̴̡̧̙͓͖͎̜ͪ͝E̛̟͕̍͑̾ͫ́͡ ̳͑ͣ̒͏̒̀S͚̈͟͝O͈̙͖ͥͯ͐̒̃ͥ͊M̢̗͎͇̩̙̞̽̌ͫͭ͌͑̕E̗̳̤̎̃̀ͭ͂͛̌̽͂̚ ̴̧̦͇̬͔̰͍̘̔ͣ̔̀ͩ͝S̶̷͕̫̮̥̆̅ͪ́̆̉ͫ̍Y̩̰ͣ̒̐҉͔͗͋RǗ̸̵̸̖̺̞̹͔͇̈ͥ̑͐͂ͩ̈P̭͚̼̳̀,̸̵̨͈͉̯̘̖͇̋ͨ̅̽̃̍͞ ̵̶̷͖̜̬ͣ́̃̍ͦ̓ͣ҉͍̑̎Ḟ̶̵̢̲̟͖̇͗́̈́̀̂ͩͯU͈̮ͮ̑͠CK̾̀ c͏(

-END-

Author's Notes:

This story is a Barcast Collaboration! It was written by the wonderful writers and degenerates there, all working together for the common cause of horrible Lyler humor, with some writing a few words and some writing pages. A “special” thanks to everyone for their hard work:

Anonpencil
Dustchu
Alex_
Iorii
Daemon McRae
Tony Montana
RundownJet
2Merr
No Raisin
Vylon
Lord Weesus Christ

You can join us for future collab stories at the Barcast fimfic group or on our Discord server!

Also… Priest is a butt and we hope he sits in syrup. We hope this made you very sad and regretful about what you’ve done with this archive. This is your fault. This story. You created Lyler. A plague and a cancer upon this world. It’s come to this. Shame.
-Everyone