Your turn.
The collab is simple. Choose your character. Tell your eulogy. Get it off your chest.
Make them listen.
I know as much as the next guy that life has a habit of kicking when you're down.
Not today.
Let's kick it back.
Sock, Sock, Shoe, Shoe?
Or
Sock, Shoe, Sock, Shoe?
Defend your answer.
GOODBYE BARFLIES...
Today is the day.
At 6:30 PM PST, the six members of the Barcast will be getting together to sit, reminisce, drink, talk, and answer any final questions you may have. I know I'll cry. I'll definitely laugh though too. And yell. And swear. And then cry.
We're gonna read your comments and questions
Ask us anything!
If you check the "Sequels" area of FS Wants In Your Pants, I've added my other stories that are Along the same premise of this story, but are longer or more expounded upon in a way that doesn't fit the rest of this story.
Read them, if you want. 
B-because, reading is your fetish... r-right, Anon?
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Damnit. I'm more of an AJ or Luna person, but I guess I'll have to give it up to Fluttershy for guessing one of mine. Don't worry guys, I'll take this one for the team.
Aaahh! My bad. My request has already been answered!
I can't seem to find the story, where exactly is it?
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http://www.fimfiction.net/story/307540/fluttershy-wants-in-your-pants
sequels:
http://www.fimfiction.net/story/185063/my-special-somepony
http://www.fimfiction.net/story/229300/camp-crystal-pond
http://www.fimfiction.net/story/280474/a-jarring-experience
http://www.fimfiction.net/story/301558/whatcha-say
http://www.fimfiction.net/story/321821/jealousy
Thanks
Office love when?
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THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS
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Sometimes, on clear nights, I'll walk out on the back deck and gaze at the stars. I like to imagine that somewhere out there, amidst the vast infinite expanse of the created order, Priest is working on Office Love. Because if he isn't, then what's the point of all this? What's the point of man's struggle for meaning if there's no ultimate reward presented to us in the form of a continuing saga of a convoluted romance quadrilateral (or is it really a pentagon? Who knows?!) between a man and a bunch of miniature horses in a contemporary urban setting?
To even consider the possibility that he's not currently out there working on it is too much to bear, so I keep hoping, and I keep watching the sky. Ultimately that's all I can do, because at this point that hope, as faint but constant as the shimmering stars themselves, is all I have to left to cling to.