Gotta Get Gustave

by Compendium of Steve

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Colgate, Twinkleshine, Lyra, Moondancer, Comedy, Lemon Hearts, Violence, Sex
Length: 9657

Moon Dancer and friends are having a Girl's Night Out when discussion inexplicably turns to Gustave Le Grand. They come to realize that there is very little Gustave in their lives, and that it needs fixing. This becomes a problem for everyone.

It started off like any Girl's Night Out for Moon Dancer and her four closest friends: meet up at their favorite watering hole and chat/drink away the hours in warm company. The mention of renowned griffon chef Gustave Le Grand comes up in conversation, merely as a throwaway piece of gossip. Only, they end up totally fixated on the subject. So much so that, in little time, they come to understand a profound truth: Gustave Le Grand needed to be in their lives. At any cost.

Equestria would never be the same.

Written for the Season 10 Bingo Writing Contest.

This fic will include: five very thirsty mares, public disturbances, blatant disregard for the law, street rumbles, destruction of property, shameless Prench accent, a literal cat fight, obvious references, ten banana creme pies, a bevvy of bad decisions, voyeuristic intentions, child endangerment, irresponsible royalty, a poor attempt at replicating a Brooklyn accent, societal breakdown, a shoehorned lesson, and one inexplicably irresistible cat-bird.

Cover art done by me, and inspired by this.

Published 2020-02-01 17:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-02-10 17:52:17 UTC

The Growing Thirst

Friday nights have always been lively, chaotic affairs for just about any town, village or municipality with a pulse, except for places like Ponyville. But this isn't about Ponyville, dear readers. Oh no no no, our attention is on Canterlot: home to one of the most bustling night lives in Equestria, outmatched only by the likes of Manehatten and Las Pegasus. With an obscene amount of restaurants, clubs, bars, theaters and exhibitions to choose from, the Equestrian capital leaves residents and visitors alike utterly spoiled with choices.

Fortunately, our focus is narrowed upon a small and inauspicious establishment misleadingly named the Downtrotter, a fairly reputable hangout spot for minglers and singlers alike. Reputable in that it was one-quarter as seedy as every other bar in the area, and its clientele primarily consist of unicorns. That’s how you know it’s credible(ly safe)!

Inside the murky, low-lit interior a lonesome, fair-if-slightly-faded powder blue unicorn sat at the bar nursing a drink that was practically water at that point. Rather a fitting beverage for so average and despairingly uninteresting a pony: one who stays within the lines of life and behaves reasonably, calmly and safely. In short, about as bland and almost bereft of flavor as the drink perspiring on the bar top in front of her. Her thoughts were equally bland as it was merely deliberating over taking another watery sip and literally nothing else. A train of thought that would have lasted another two minutes if they weren't halted by the approach of a pale white unicorn mare.

"Hey there, Minuette," she greeted as she magicked a stool up to her thin if somewhat bumpy tush.

"Ah, Twinkleshine!" the blue mare happily replied. "I was starting to wonder when someone would show up."

"It's your own fault for always coming so early." Being the early bird for just about every occasion was one of the few "qualities" that made Minuette stand out from a loaf of bread on legs (altough a loaf of bread with legs would still be considerably more interesting). The stereotypical surly-looking unicorn barkeep slid up to the newcomer as she settled in. "Whadda it be?"

"A cosmopolitan." One could surmise that Twinkleshine considered herself quite the cosmopolitan herself, though she leaned more on the soft-spoken, non-aggressive and frankly side of cosmopolitan. Nowhere as bad as Minuette, but nothing to write home about.

The barkeep nodded in the manner of someone used to taking orders from lonely inner city dames and turned to mix up the drink. He had barely left the girls' breathing space when a unicorn mare with a yellow coat and blue mane came up to the bar.

"Hey girls."

"Hi Lemon," Minuette greeted.

"That was sudden," Twinkle remarked. "Did you follow me on the way here?"

"I wasn't aware you had just come in," Lemon Hearts replied as she got her own barstool.

"Well I don't have a drink yet, so that should have clued you in."

"I guess. Speaking of which." Lemon leaned over and said, "Fix me up the usual, Clay."

Clay the bartender nodded, and soon his aura brought over Twinkle's cosmo and Lemon's painfully predictable lemon sour. Apart from the unimaginative lemon fixation, Lemon Hearts was a more outgoing, headstrong, controlling sort, unafraid to spout her opinions at anyone or anything with a set of ears. Often these opinions rubbed other ponies the wrong way, leaving a bitter, sour aftertaste not unlike taking a bite out of a highly potent lemon. Huh, I guess she's more predictable than I originally thought.

"You guys think Lyra will be able to show up?" Minuette asked.

"I'd be more concerned about Moonie not showing," Lemon replied. "It's hard to predict when she's stumbled upon another thesis or research article or whatever."

"She's been getting better at it, though," Twinkle said in their absent friend's defense. “Plus she always has to close the library on Fridays so it takes longer.”

"And that’s usually when something catches her eye and we wind up waiting another forty minutes." Lemon took a swig of her tart drink. "Ahhhh, that's the stuff."

"I just asked because Lyra hardly ever comes up to Canterlot these days, and even then she’s usually hurrying to get back to Ponyville," Minuette said to halt any further disparagings. Ever the peacekeeper, the dear little sheep.

"Well she told me she was gonna come. She knows the time and everything," Lemon bluntly stated. "She’s also less likely to get sidetracked, unlike somepo—"

"What's up party ponies!"

Yet another unicorn boisterously stepped onto the scene, this time being the mint green Lyra Heartstrings, dragging a barstool screechingly across the floor before planting it between Lemon and Twinkleshine. An obnoxious breath of personality if there ever was one: abrasive, loud, chummy to the point of suffocating. And that's when she's not being a weird, catty braggart.

"Ah, wonderful. I was worried if you were going to make it."

Lyra waved a hoof. "Ehh no sweat, Minuette. I'm not gonna pull a Twilight and ditch my old Canterlot chums."

"That hasn't been funny for over a year, Lyra," Twinkleshine said sharply.

"Pffffft!" Lyra shook her head. "I wish I was joking. I practically live next door to her and she never bothers to say hello, even after all that reconnecting and reconciling stuff. Yeah she's the ruling princess and all, but still! Anyway, I'm not here to dwell; I'm here to get drunk! Yo barkeep! Toss me a kamikaze!"

Clay rolled his eyes and begrudgingly went to fulfill the rude loudmouth's request (sans the tossing). In the meantime, Lyra glanced from friend to friend and asked, “So when will we be expecting Moon Dancer?”

“The library had closed nearly an hour ago so she should be on her way,” Twinkleshine answered before sipping her cosmo.

“That’s if she isn’t holed up in a corner with some new addition for ‘quality evaluation',” Lemon added, which was the tipping point in ruffling her white friend’s nonexistent feathers.

“Maybe if you worked in a library you’d know exactly what goes into closing one and not be so judgmental about Moon Dancer’s habits,” Twinkleshine rebuked.

“Ha! Well unlike the rest of you I have a job, and I can tell you it takes no hour to close up some library at the start of the weekend. That's if you get a headstart on it. I mean, honestly, who stays late at a library on a Friday night? Apart from Moonie.”

“Librarian and event-planner are totally different things, and I sincerely doubt the former allows you to shirk off super early.”

“And what was that about us not having jobs? I'm a roaming minstrel (and SMILE agent), and that, madam, is beyond reproach!” Lyra banged a hoof on the bar for needless dramatic emphasis.

“Girls, girls please calm down!” Minuette said in a tired damage-control-tone. “You barely got here and haven’t had nearly enough for petty arguing.”

“I’m still waiting on my drink, dang it!” Lyra exclaimed.

“Then I suppose we’ll have to wait together.”

That extra voice got everypony’s attention as they all as one turned their heads in the direction of the door. Approaching the cadre of up-and-coming cougars was Moon Dancer in her fleecy black sweater, still ever the most fashion-forward of her friends. Fashion-forward as in being the only one sporting any fashion, even if it's the “perpetually braving the brisk autumn chill after emerging from your dusty attic" look. Still knew how to flaunt it like the best of them, though.

She took a stool and scrunched in between Minuette and Twinkleshine. Normally she would have stuck to the other end, but this was a fresh and exciting Moon Dancer, so look out world!

“Sorry if I’m a bit late; some teens thought making a fort out of trash cans by the history section would make a profound statement for anti-establishmentism,” she excused herself, fussing at her glasses.

“Hey it’s fine. As long as you made it that's what counts,” Lemon said a tad nervously, the reason for which we’re about to hear. “I don’t suppose you had been standing back there for a while and caught me or us saying certain things that could be construed as smack talk.”

“Only about the part about minstrel being a respectable occupation. And I don't mind if you're saying things about me so long it's between friends. Certainly would be awkward to vent one's grievances on a stranger, wouldn't you agree?”

“Haha, yeah. Super awkward. Rude, even."

Moon Dancer nodded at her friend, then catching the bartender's attention she said, "I'd like a Swirly Dimple, please."

For those of you not in the know, a Swirly Dimple is about the same as a Shirley Dimple, but served with a twisty straw. Liking the politeness of this latest lonely lass, Clay took his time in whipping up her drink before finishing Lyra's, and in a few moments both drinks were placed on the bar.

With no mouth left parched, Minuette eagerly brought things to order. "Alright, looks like our latest girls' night out can finally begin. For starters, how has everyone's week been?"

"Fan-flippin'-tastic!" Lyra announced. "Got hit with some inspiration for a new sonata, practiced my singing and making this fine outing to ol' Canterlot for an ingredients run for Sweetie."

"How is Sweetie Drops?" Moon Dancer asked.

"Keeping good, keeping good. Still trying out new recipes to keep the candy shop lively. Not that it's been needing business. Ponies got to have their sweets all the time."

"You know I've noticed that myself, and just the other week I began pondering over the possible connection between sugar consumption and socially-tied mental—"

"Hey I just remembered!" Twinkleshine said to save them from another session of Moon Dancer's unnecessary lecture series. "You won't guess who I saw wandering about town today."

"Princess Luna?" Minuette guessed.

"Out with it, Twinkie," Lyra said.

"You know I hate that name. Anyway, I was doing some shopping earlier and I saw Gustave Le Grand just outside the store!"

"Really?" Minuette asked, her minuscule curiosity piqued.

"Was he doing some shopping himself?"

"Not from what I saw," Twinkle said to Lemon. "He was walking with some ponies in suits talking about something. I couldn't hear what they were saying."

"I believe they were his publicists," Moon Dancer said. "He's doing a book signing tour for his latest cookbook around the major cities of Equestria, with the Canterlot signing occuring at Biblio-Fillies tomorrow. We've had flyers for it at the library for some weeks."

"Oh yeeaaah. Sweetie Drops had mentioned wanting to check it out. Get some ideas for new candies."

"Like eclair candies? That's all he ever makes!" Lemon scoffed.

"The title of the book is eclair-based, yes," Moon Dancer acknowledged.

"See? The guy is totally unoriginal! Makes the same thing over and over again, yet he's supposed to be this big shot culinary genius."

"We have two of his cookbooks in our catalog, and while I'm no chef by any stretch of the imagination, I've read through them and the ingredients for every recipe were practically identical," Moon Dancer attested.

"Lazy as well as unoriginal!"

"He doesn't even try to make them look different, either," Twinkleshine joined in. "If it's just the same thing he could at least try to dress them up a little. How dumb does he think we ponies are?"

"He probably thinks we're all rather gullible. Especially if you consider how much bank he's making off of us."

"And griffons are always full of themselves to begin with," Lyra said. "Think they're so much better because they have wings and claws and are capable of digesting muscle proteins."

"I have to say his attitude is especially bad for a griffon," Minuette added. "In every interview he's always boasting about how great a visionary he is, like no humility at all. And for whatever reason the articles spell words the exact way he pronounces them, so you can't help but read them in that condescending voice of his."

"He's very obnoxious with that Prench angle," Lemon groaned after taking a swig of her drink. "The accent, always wearing that stupid hat everywhere he goes, that frou-frou ascot, and that ridiculous mustache, ugh!"

"Griffons can't even grow mustaches!" Lyra practically shouted. "Those beaks are all bone, so it’s obviously a fake ‘stache he’s got. But he goes twirling it like it’s his pride and joy, which pisses me off even more!”

"It’s actually keratin, but yes, it is pretty ludicrous how he presents himself.” Moon Dancer took a long sip from her straw. "Though you have to admit, it's quite the feat to be trained in classical Prench cuisine, in Prance. The Prench usually don't pass their skills on to non-pony races."

"Guess he was smug enough to pass for them," Lemon remarked.

"Shame all that skill is being wasted on just one type of pastry," Twinkle said. "I mean, there has to be something he does that makes them so popular."

"I actually tried them a while back," Lyra said. "Sweetie ordered them special for her birthday. They looked the same, but they tasted different. Different fillings, yeah, but the bread itself had these subtle, nuanced flavors to them."

"Really? I might have to try them myself if that's the case," Lemon decided. "It's actually kinda admirable he stuck to this one thing for so long. I'd be sick of lemon tarts if I kept making them most of my life."

"He doesn't seem that old, come to think of it," Twinkleshine noted. "Or at least, he has that graceful aged look. It’s probably the color scheme."

"Pretty fair-looking for a griffon, for a chef," Lyra admitted.

"I’m rather surprised how fit he looks despite his profession,” Moon Dancer said. “He may have an impressive metabolism, or looks after himself.”

“Gotta admire an old guy who keeps in shape,” Lemon said rather softly.

“Something about his pronounced lower beak gives him a strong, confident look,” Twinkleshine remarked, almost dreamily. “And you never see any of his feathers out of place in his pictures.”

“Not bad-looking fur, either,” Lyra added.

“I rather enjoy Prench accents, even if they come off as arrogant,” Minuette said demurely.

"Yeah they're… something," Lemon said, petering into silence that befell the whole group. Staring at the polished grimy texture of the bar, the girls' hearts mulled and stirred and ballooned with a growing, warming realization. A realization shared by one and all, which Twinkleshine took upon herself to vocalize and therefore free them of their self-imposed burden of restraint and modesty.

"I love Gustave Le Grand."

"So do I!" cried Lyra.

"Holy Celestia what a catch!"

"It's as clear as day he is the absolute best!" Moon Dancer swooned.

"He's so assertive and gives no flocks about any criticisms!" Lemon praised.

"That mind of his has to be absolutely brilliant to cook something so simple so ingeniously," said Moon Dancer. "And the curvature of that beak, umph! Peak evolution right there."

"Forget that; you see the shape of those hind legs? You can just feel the power just by looking at them and it drives me wild!" exclaimed Lyra, practically writhing in the general shape of the lauded limb.

"I just wanna bury my face in that feathery chest, ooooo what a fluffy hunk!" Twinkle gushed.

"And the way he says Prench words at random, just take me now!" Minuette said.

"I know, right!" Lemon shouted with quivering adoration.

"We have to get to that book signing!" Lyra declared, to which Lemon Heart got right in her face to say, "Was there any question about us not??"

Moon Dancer stood up on her stool and cried, "We have to plan. To the Tower!"

“YEEEEEAH!!!”

With that fervent call to arms the madmares pushed off from the bar and stampeded over the floor and out the door, into the shadowy Canterlot streets and whatever unfortunate soul couldn't get out of the way. Clay the barkeep only looked on with an indifferent gaze, merely shaking his head with a huff. Comes with the territory when dealing with anyone that has the slightest association with the Princess of Friendship. At least they had the courtesy not to start a brawl or break out into song, he thought as he went about retrieving the abandoned drinks.

Had he a little more insight than cynicism, he would have closed the bar early, gone home to pack the bare essentials, and hopped the next train out of the city.

For the display of fanaticism he witnessed had merely been a taste of the misery and madness to come.

Author's Note

I legitimately enjoyed writing the inconsequential bar banter. Shame this is where the normal ends.

Follow That Bird!

In the middle of one of the quadrillion Main Streets that exist in Canterlot (and just about every other city) stood Biblio-Fillies: a very niche, low-key book dispensary frequented by the loner hipster crowd, as one can surmise from the name. Truly the perfect site for a big name celebrity to host a book-signing event, and the turnout made that statement totally sincere. Yes, a whole lot of casual and aspiring chefs, bakers, and autograph hounds were lined up for blocks, chattering among or to themselves. The warmth of a brilliant, bright, sun-kissed Saturday afternoon removed all trace of fatigue, boredom and agitation from their little furry heads.

A crowd of the most well-prepared attendees had formed in a semi-circle around the storefront, where two hefty earth ponies in suits flanked a table loaded with books, some cutouts of the esteemed guest, and the tom of the hour himself: Gustave Le Grand. His black fur and white head feathers were groomed to perfection, shining like a snow-capped mountain of obsidian, and he looked positively resplendent wearing a fiery red ascot and starched chef's hat. The very epitome of culinary mastery given fashionable form.

When the crowd had gotten used to his presence and quieted down, Gustave finished twirling his lengthy mustache and addressed the assemblage.

"Zank you, zank you all for coming out today for zis signing of mon latest book, 'Exquisite Eclairs: Express Edition': Ze perfect read for ze pastry chef on ze go. It warms mon heart seeing so many fans and eclair enthusiasts showing le support to one such as moi. In truth, I only made it zis far zanks to you, my lovely fans, for whom I am most grateful… Now, if you wish for Gustave's signature you will need to have purchased your own copy of mon book, presently going for thirty nine bits and which can be bought directly from moi. If you wish for me to write a personalized message that will be an additional ten bits, plus one bit extra for every word past ten. With zat understood, please form a line so zat you may be graced by mon presence in le timely fashion."

The adoring mob hustled itself into an orderly if amorphous line before the table, clamoring anew for the promised autograph. But unbeknownst to them, an unsavory bunch had infiltrated their ranks, seeking to bring ruin to an otherwise ordinary, hospitable gathering. The kicker was that the five malectors in question weren't even aware of the misfortune they were about to bring.

"Alright, we got ourselves a good spot," said Twinkleshine, leaning over to verify that only twenty ponies stood ahead of her and her cohorts. "Now it's just a matter of waiting."

"But we've waited hours already," Lyra whined. "Why do so many ponies have to be up earlier than us?"

"Be grateful we're not further back," Lemon Hearts said.

"We must have patience, lest our nighttime planning would have been for naught," Moon Dancer reminded, just before Minuette let out a small yawn.

"I just couldn't sleep," she said. "Too much excitement. And Gustave is right in sight!"

"Hey, ladies? You shouldn't be bunched up like that."

The conspiring quintet turned as one to look at the unicorn stallion behind, which was easy for all of them to do given that they stood in a huddled bunch rather than single file, sticking out like a plum caught in a garter snake's throat.

"We're here as a group, pal," Lemon said rather stand-offishly. Dare I say, sourly?

"How else is a group supposed to arrange itself?" Twinkle challenged.

"So rude," Minuette added.

"It just doesn't seem fair to everypony else. And the way you're together, you're giving off this strong odor—"

"Say anything else and I'll give you the crazy eyes, bub!"

Lyra's threat ceased any further complaint from the stallion, who grumbled and tried to angle his nose downwind from the disagreeable mares. Shame it was the inner city, where a fresh breeze is but a distant memory.

"We probably should have showered before coming here," Twinkleshine said, but Moon Dancer only shook her head.

"A needless waste of time. When you're highly focused on something, there's nothing more frivolous than worrying about a little body odor."

"Maybe if you never leave the house and don't expect guests ever," Lemon remarked.

"Hey, less BO more Gustave, guys, " Lyra said.

"But of course, Lyra," Moon Dancer affirmed. "The wait continues!"

And continued it did, for another fifteen minutes. A fairly tolerable time for one to wait at such an event, but for the five friends it was the most arduous quarter hour of their lives. The first two minutes went by fine, but eventually agitation began to take hold, followed by anxious sweating that only worsened their sorry hygiene, making it even more torture for those nearby, to the point that ponies behind them began leaving for the sake of their stomachs.

The five were about at the breaking point when finally, at long last, only one pony stood between them and their prize. All agitation vanished, replaced by growing excitement.

"Alright, just remember what we discussed," Moon Dancer said. "Everyone has their book?" Four cries of affirmation met her, as did the magical raising of four books. "Alright. It's go time."

Unaware of the scheming taking place, Gustave Le Grand had put the final touches to his latest signature. "A merveilleux day to you. NEXT, s’il vous plait."

The latest lucky recipient had barely stepped a foot from the table before five feminine forms rushed in and pressed against the edge, nearly upending it while shifting the stack of books and knocking over a cutout.

“Oh Gustave it’s so great to finally meet you!” Minuette spouted, her eyes sparkling over the grand specimen before her.

“You can’t believe how long we waited!” Lyra said.

“Not that we would mind waiting the entire day just to see you up close,” Twinkleshine amended.

“Or even a week!” Moon Dancer needlessly added, her exuberance further ruffling the feathers of the startled griffon.

“What is ze meaning of zis?” Gustave demanded. “Only one pony at a time. I zought zis was obvious when I said form le line. And what is with zis odor zat accosts my grand nostrils?”

“We’re here as a group, so that technically makes us one,” Lemon explained, which did little to quell Gustave’s frustration.

“Then only one book will be signed in zat case,” he stated, trying to wave the stink from both his mind and face. “Otherwise, you'll have to wait at ze back of ze line like everypony else.”

“That’s fine; we just wanted to talk to you, anyway,” Minuette said.

“You may talk as I sign your book. Now, which will it—”

“I have to say you really know how to rock that ascot,” Lemon Hearts interrupted. “I do event planning and know about color-coordination, and that red makes a wonderful contrast to the white.”

“It really accentuates your already well-maintained chest feathers,” Twinkleshine added.

"Oh, zank you. I care not for ze fripperies when it comes to le fashion, but I try my best to make Gustave stand out simply as Gustave. Now about zat book—"

“My friend Sweetie Drops is a HUGE fan of yours!” Lyra cut in. “She specializes in candies, but she always tells me how she wants to try replicating your eclairs into something like taffy and brittles.”

“Oh, well, zat makes Gustave quite flattered. Your friend is a most commendable confectioner for wanting to try somezing so audacieux, especially when taking inspiration from moi.” Yes, nothing quite soothes a chef’s temperament like praising the allure of his dish.

“Ooooh, he just spoke Prench!” Minuette gushed.

“So we were wondering," Twinkleshine spoke before their headway could be lost. "When you're done doing book signings if we could treat you to a coffee."

"Or milkshake," blurted Minuette.

"Or some fortified ginseng tea," Moon Dancer added. "Perfect for soothing the mind for discussion both casual and intellectual."

"She means telling us more about yourself," Lemon Hearts clarified. "Like, cooking advice and the like. I make a decent lemon custard and I'd love some of your thoughts on the recipe."

"Ladies, please, your offers of hospitality are most appreciated," Gustave said with talons raised to hold back the surge of affection. "But Gustave is a busy griffon and has no time to spend with fans outside of ze signings, no matter how devout. Since you are quite ze admirers, zough, I am willing to sign all your copies free of charge—"

"We don't care about the dang signature; we want you!" Lyra half-shouted.

"Notice us, senpai!" Moon Dancer pleaded, getting a look from the feathery chef.

"Ehh, excusez moi, but what is zis 'senpai'?"

"Ohh he did it again!"

"It's just some Neighpon trash, just ignore her," said Lemon. "Now about my custard—"

"Madames, I must ask you to be silent and to disperse. You are making moi tres inconfortable."

"Ahhh!"

"Shut up, Minuette!" Lyra scolded.

“He’s not going for our charms!” Twinkleshine panicked.

“He’s a tough one; as expected from so ruggedly cunning a griffon,” Lyra said.

“There’s no need to fret; this is exactly why we made contingencies,” Moon Dancer said quickly to calm her associates. “Where talk fails, we switch over to Plan B.”

Moon Dancer's horn lit up, and Gustave became encased in a magical aura that yanked him from his seat with a squawk. That prompted the earth pony tough on the right to step forward and do his job.

"Hey! There's no touching Mr. Le Gr—!"

He was clobbered by the table magicked at him by Twinkleshine, and his partner took a chair to the head courtesy of Lemon Hearts. The five about-faced together right as the other ponies took notice.

"Cheese it!"

At Lyra's signal the group booked it, their captive hovering close behind. Before anyone could stop them or even cry out they galloped through the line of startled and confused fans and broke out onto an empty section of street.

"Help help! I'm being le birdnapped!"

Gustave's pleas were ignored by his captors along with the looks of frightened pedestrians watching their flight. The lack of opposition didn't last long, however, as a few meters down the road a cordon had formed up of ten unicorns in familiar blue uniforms.

"Their response time is quick," Lemon said.

"Ohhh, why do there have to be so many cops in the middle of the city?" Minuette bemoaned.

As the five were fast approaching, one officer stepped forth and shouted, "You five are to put down the griffon and disperse immedi—"

"Crazy Eyes ENGAGE!"

The police immediately began screaming in terror before Lyra's maddening gaze, one officer diving through a storefront window to save her sanity. Amid this noise and confusion the birdnappers dashed through the ruined ranks and veered down an alleyway. After making a few twists and turns and slowing down to a canter, Twinkleshine deemed things safe enough to speak.

"That went pretty well. Good thinking back there, Lyra."

"Yeah; no weekend warrior cops can resist the ol' crazy eyes," Lyra said cockily. "Still, we gotta wait till the heat dies down before celebrating. Best hole up in a warehouse or abandoned building for a few hours."

"What? But Lyra, we agreed on regrouping at the tower!" Moon Dancer said.

"You mean the most conspicuous building in the whole city apart from the castle? Get real, Moonie!"

"It's precisely because of its conspicuousness that we go there. It's so obvious, nopony would suspect it; we've gone over this!"

"We should go to my place," Twinkle suggested. "It's not too far from here and I just restocked my pantry. I'm sure our guest would want a good warm meal after all this excitement."

"Errr, I'm not hungry at ze moment," Gustave spoke up for the first time in minutes. "Aside from ze trauma of abduction, your odor is making moi nause—"

"In that case, we're better heading to my place," Lemon butted in. "My kitchen is up-to-date, with everything a culinary expert of Gustave's caliber would need."

"It's very quiet at my house," Minuette offered weakly.

"That's because no one ever comes over," Lemon said.

"Exactly; it's perfect!"

"Blast!" Moon Dancer skidded to a stop, prompting the other four to halt as well. "It just occurred to me that we forgot to blindfold him in the rush. And we forgot code names as well!"

"Ah fiddlesticks, you're right!"

"Really, Twinkle? You a housewife or something?" Lyra mocked. "What pony our age says 'fiddlesticks'?"

"I wouldn't mind being Gustave's housewife," Twinkleshine defended. "And I'd certainly look forward to growing old with him."

"Ahhhhhh, no offense, but Gustave Le Grand has no interest in marri—"

"Oh don't worry your handsome feathery head my avian Adonis; I'll treat you well shortly," Twinkle cooed.

"Who said you could sweet talk my birdy beau?" Lemon argued. "He needs a partner that can actually cook, and with our skills combined we’ll flood the world with eclair-infused custards! Or custard-infused eclairs. It’s win-win either way."

"Not unless he goes with me,” Lyra contended. “I guarantee I can get Sweetie Drops onboard in worshipping this magnificent hunk of eagle-lion. Just think about it: one to tend to his creative confectionery needs, and the other to show his downy derriere the recognition and appreciation it deserves.”

“I'm sure he's tired of all this attention he gets,” Minuette humbly argued. “I bet he wants to live a quiet life, like a plant. And that's something I can provide.”

“Gustave Le Grand is not interested in retirement, eizer.”

“Bah! Nothing but foalish fancies. I know what he truly wants.” Moon Dancer lowered Gustave down to face level, allowing her to look upon her captive with slightly demented eyes. “Society denies it, but it is the fate of prey animals to be devoured by mighty predators to satisfy their equally mighty hunger. Conforming to vegetarian ways must cause untold suffering for you, Gustave, but you need not suffer around me. Being the intellectual herbivore that I am, I not only accept this primal truth, but also wholly embrace it.”

“What the flip, Moon Dancer?” Lyra asked. "I know bookworms are usually freaks, but that's taking it too far for a sophisticated guy like him."

"Well I'm the one holding him, Lyra, and I'll show him the satisfaction of giving in to his instincts."

Lemon's yellow aura arose within Moon Dancer's and began to pull at the griffon. "Not anymore you won't."

"Lemon? What do you think you're doing?" Moon Dancer pulled back, which whipped the others into a frenzy.

"Hey I want him!" Twinkleshine demanded.

"Give him here!" shouted Lyra.

"Sacre bleu!" Gustave cried as five shades of magic tugged at him for ownership. After seconds of cries and curses, five sets of eyes met and everything went still. Within five glances, an agreement was reached, an irrevocable decision was made. Then the true horror began.

The five friends set off a simultaneous burst of thaumic energy, knocking each other back several yards. Gustave went spinning up some feet before coming down, only to be caught in Twinkleshine's sparkly grasp.

"Gaha! You're coming with me!" she cried triumphantly as she galloped for an alleyway, only to get tackled by Minuette. Again Gustave went tumbling in the air, then quickly reclaimed by Moon Dancer.

"To the brains go the spoils!" she said as she went down an alley with Lemon Hearts hot on her hooves.

"You can’t outrun me for long, Moonie; you have the worst stamina out of all of us during our ball games!” Lemon taunted as she focused on catching up to the fleeing academic.

“If only physical strength reflected mental fortitude,” Moon Dancer huffed out while avoiding various bits of trash and loose cobbles. Seeing the debris gave her an idea, and immediately her horn went to work picking up scraps and tossing them behind her.

Lemon Hearts used her own magic to catch and drop the projectiles before they could get within a foot of her. The hail of cans, rocks and refuse were a breeze, but then boxes, potted plants, vases and entire trash cans were thrown at her. These were also cast aside, making the yellow unicorn chuckle at her former friend's vain efforts to slow her down.

"My baaaaay-by!"

Her good humor went sour about as quickly as the giggling foal flying at her. Lemon caught it with its diaper mere inches from her snout, as well as the five other infants tossed her way. She didn't have time to cast aside these squirmy nuisances before several fretting, yelling mothers ganged up on her. Yards ahead, Moon Dancer looked back and laughed before taking a sharp turn down a side alley, entering a corridor where clotheslines criss-crossed overhead. Her eyes focused solely on the far end where a sun-drenched street could be seen, she never noticed the pony that was tailing her.

Twinkleshine had somehow gotten up onto the rooftops and was keeping pace with Moon Dancer high above, watching her through the arrays of drying laundry before literally springing into action. She touched down onto a clothesline and sprung off to another and then another and began sliding down one towards the alleyway floor. Unfortunately she hadn't accounted for her weight and her handy zipline snapped, forcing her to switch gears and go into swing mode for her swashbuckling approach.

The noise and falling clothes gave away her ploy, however, as Moon Dancer looked back and sidestepped, letting Twinkleshine soar past into a bedsheet. In her surprise Twinkle let go of her line, sending her cannonballing into an abandoned nightclub and disrupting a jellicle performance in an explosion of smashed wood and screeching cats.

Another thwarter thwarted, Moon Dancer looked forward to open space and freedom, only to trip over a raised manhole cover and go tumbling into some boxes. Lemon Hearts crawled out from the open manhole, nabbed a flailing Gustave and took off back down the alley before turning down a narrower side avenue, taking care to keep the griffon steady and mostly safe from scrapes. But as she's racing along—

"So you have decided to approach me!"

Lemon skidded to a stop, for some yards dead ahead was none other than Lyra, standing tall on her hindlegs and looking quite menacing.

"While I'm a little tardy to this party, there's not a chance I'm leaving empty-hooved," she said as she waved around her forelegs before bracing herself into a disciplined stance. "Hand Magic!"

Lyra's special shade of gold encased her forehooves, from which five semi-thick digits sprouted on each. Once fully-formed, she used one of her new appendages to reach behind her and pull out a scabbard, and with the other she withdrew a real-ass goddamn sword, leveling its blade directly at her yellow rival's head.

"Now forfeit the bird or forfeit your life. Either way, Gustave shall be mine (and Sweetie’s)."

Rather than feel intimidated like any ordinary city mare, Lemon Hearts calmly raised a lemon wedge with her magic and floated it toward Lyra. Lyra watched the fruit curiously as it came right up to her face, never breaking eye contact. Eventually it came to a halt before her open peepers and squeezed fresh juice straight onto her retinas.

"AAAGGGGHHHH!!! MY EEEEYES!!!" she screamed as she fell writhing to the ground, dropping both her sword and magic hands. "The third worst place for lemon juice to be!!"

Lemon Hearts casually trotted over her stricken attacker before going into full gallop once again. Eventually she entered the open space of a supermarket’s loading bay, free of transports or personnel. However there was a Minuette running at her from the side, but Lemon spun about so that the blue unicorn’s flying leap left her on the pavement. But then Moon Dancer rushed in from the front to grab at Lemon with her hooves, making her sidestep and backpedal toward a messy-maned and cat-laden Twinkleshine.

Twinkle lashed out with a calico, forcing Lemon Hearts to backstep and immediately duck to avoid a swinging bengal and a shorthair, but was too slow to avoid taking a Scoltish Fold to the snout. Gustave found himself free of his magic prison for one sweet second before Moon Dancer took hold of him once again. Twinkleshine retaliated by throwing a Siamese straight at the academic, but Moon Dancer proved too quick, grabbing the screeching feline mid-toss and returning it to sender with double the force.

Suddenly a screaming, red-eyed Lyra leapt out from the side and tackled Moon Dancer to the ground, rolling her along the litter-strewn pavement as they exchanged hoofblows and wrangled one another’s magic. They quickly pulled themselves up on their hindlegs in order to do some right grappling, while Twinkleshine and Minuette decided it was the perfect time to get the jump on them.

Lyra shot a back hoof at Twinkleshine’s chin before hopping to the side to allow Moon Dancer to back hoof Minuette’s shoulder, then both of them hopped together from the two-by-four Lemon Hearts tried to slam down on them. Lyra used the moment to grasp Moon Dancer and fling her aside into Lemon, wasting no time in catching Gustave and using him to beat back Twinkleshine with a “squawk!”, then repeating the maneuver on Lemon after she got up. Lyra decided to make a break for it, only for Twinkleshine to leap and grab onto her back hooves. Before she could whack her with her griffon, she was beaned in the face by a flying can right before being charged by Moon Dancer.

As the three fought, Lemon eventually jumped in, turning the bout into a four-way of yelling, smelly, female aggression with one disoriented griffon hovering helplessly overhead as unwilling witness. When they got to the point of mane-biting and face-shoving, Minuette leapt onto the sidelines and shouted—

“Toki wo Tomare!!”

Everybody immediately froze, much to her surprise. “Oh my gosh, it actually worked!”

After some seconds Twinkleshine blinked, looked around, then snagged Gustave and ran for it, making Minuette whine in disappointment as the others gave chase.

Down a narrow stretch of alley, Lyra caught up to Twinkle and rammed her side, making Twinkle ram back in kind. They bumped sides a few times before getting entangled and tumbling up against a wall, whereupon Lyra hoisted Twinkleshine and jumped high up onto a nearby fire escape. Twinkle tried to resist and break free, but Lyra smacked her and locked her legs around the white mare before kicking off the landing and initiating a spinning piledriver into a mound of trash below. A truly devastating maneuver reminiscent of that time in 1998 when the Undertaker threw Mankind off Hell in a Cell, plummeting sixteen feet through the Spanish commentator's desk.

Gustave found himself dropping once more until Moon Dancer sprung up to catch him, only for Lemon Hearts to fly in from the opposite direction to bounce off her, only to then have Minuette bounce off her head, make the catch and stick the landing, breaking into a gallop. She turned down a particularly shady alley and got a few yards before all four of her friends descended and glomped her into the pavement. The battle in the loading bay was about to be repeated when a whistle made them stop. Instead of the police, however, they saw three tough-looking stallions wearing black vests, fedoras and shades strut toward them.

"Youse dames ah makin' a lotta racket on our turf," said the pegasus in a heavy, inner city accent.

"Hey, ain't dose de daffy dames dat done made off with de one griffon chef?" pointed out the earth pony in an equally thick accent.

"So dey is," agreed the unicorn. "Imma finkin' wese nabs him and holds him for ransoms, see."

"Fuhgedabout dat. Ise always wanted mese a livin' body pillow, and griffon feathas can't be beat," the pegasus argued, getting a shrug from his associate.

"Can't argue wit dat."

The three hoodlums faced the entangled mares, with the earth pony holding up a knife in his mouth, the pegasus producing two switchblades from his wings, and the unicorn's horn popping off to reveal the knife jutting from his skull. The five mares looked at them, then at each other, then sprang up to form a line, dropping Gustave behind their ranks as they conjured up their own knives. With no further ceremony the two sides leapt at each other and got into one heck of a back alley rumble.

Gustave in the meantime picked himself up and wiped the filth from himself, then quickly realized he was in full control of his body.

"Now is mon chance!" he exclaimed before crouching and leaping up into the air with a flap of his wings. Unfortunately he had chosen to take off in the direction of the brawl, instantly getting the attention of the slash-happy mares.

"He's getting away!" Twinkleshine cried out, prompting the other ladies to ditch their weapons and go jumping after the fleeing griffon. Each mare grabbed hold of a limb, including the tail, in trying to bring him back to earth. Despite that, perhaps through sheer desperation, he flapped and hoisted his unwanted cargo out of the alley and above the buildings.

"He's so strong!" Minuette praised him from his left talon.

"I just have to have his chicks or cubs or whatever!" Lemon Hearts spouted while swinging from his poor tail.

"Can't… hold… much… longer…" the poor Gustave panted as the strain steadily built on his relatively unfit self. He only managed four more heavy flaps before his energy gave out and immediately dropped like a rock wrapped in crazy.

Fortunately there was a plaza hosting a farmer's market with a cabbage cart waiting below which he crashed down onto, breaking off the wheels and sides of the cart but nothing else. He didn't have much time to rest amid the ruffage before his tormentors were back to squabbling and fighting over his horribly fatigued body. At the very least it wasn't in some dank, filthy alley.

Unfortunately, there happened to be bystanders around, and not the helpful kind.

"Hey, that's Gustave Le Grand!" called out a patron.

"And the ones who birdnapped him!" shouted a pegasus.

"They're hogging him for themselves!" a minotaur said most angrily, throwing down his rutabagas.

"I want him!"

"No he's mine!"

"I saw him first!"

"Up yours!"

All Tartarus broke loose. Every creature in the plaza leapt onto the five deranged mares and each other in a frantic, violent bid to get a hold of that dashing griffon. Fur, hair and feathers flew as hoof, claw, paw and fist went all out in the sunlit arena. Diamond dogs bit and scratched, yaks charged, minotaurs lifted, hippogriffs cawed and flopped, breezies were blown about, and other acts of mayhem too ludicrous to properly describe. And it only got worse as pedestrians from surrounding areas caught wind of the prize at stake and poured in to join the free-for-all.

Anything and everything that wasn't cemented to the ground was caught up in the whirlwind of violence and used as weapons: carts, produce, produce stands, benches, a picture of Édith Piaf, lamp posts, brooms, banjos, street performers, you name it. Things got especially messy when one woefully oblivious waiter waltzed into the tussle carrying ten banana creme pies, adding sticky sweet fuel to the firestorm of insanity.

And above it all Gustave Le Grand was being passed and tossed around, long having surrendered any hope of getting away or even getting out alive. Right when it appeared the entire city was going to join the brouhaha, a bright flash filled the air.

"Everybody STOOOOOP!"

The entire brawling congregation of pony and beastkind stopped mid-pummel and looked in the direction of the authoritative voice. From the outer rim of the harried mass, eyes widened and gasps arose.

"It's the princess!"

"The princess is here!"

Indeed, a member of royalty had just zapped onto the scene. But which one you ask? Why, the one still in power, of course! Appearing pristinely pretty in her purple personage, Princess Twilight Sparkle flexed her wings before folding them majestically to her sides as she trotted at an easy, carefree pace. The assemblage parted like jello before her every step, humbled by her gracious air and smile in much the way they had regarded their previous ruler. Surely if the Twilight of old were told she’d evoke such a reception she’d have blushed herself silly.

Anyway, the young alicorn continued into the great mass and stopped before the literal center of the commotion, where, lo and behold, the five instigators lay sprawled about in various postures of combat, which they immediately abandoned upon seeing Twilight’s approach. Even in their maddened, bloodthirsty states, they still retained the good sense to (try to) make themselves presentable for a dear friend. Especially one who was the ruling monarch.

“T-Twilight?” Twinkleshine stammered as she got back on her hooves. “What, what brings you out here?”

“I got a summons from the Friendship Map at the castle a few minutes ago,” Twilight answered. “I was wondering what kind of friendship problem it would be, but seeing all this:” she waved a hoof to indicate the disheveled citizens and general destruction. “I have to say... I wasn’t expecting it to be this obvious.”

At that moment, Gustave Le Grand popped out from a pile of grocers gasping for breath, and upon seeing the princess he clambered along the ground and threw himself onto his knees before her, talons clasped. “Oh Princess Twilight, zank goodness you are here! Zese savages have been trying to tear moi apart, and it was started by zese five awful, deranged madams, birdnapping me and using me like some baton! Gustave knows not what he did to deserve zis!”

Twilight regarded the sorry-looking, whimpering chef a moment, then took a breath and smiled sympathetically. “I see what this is about.” She turned to her embarrassed-looking friends. “I'm honestly surprised you five of all ponies would cause this kind of incident. Especially you, Moon Dancer; I never took you for the spontaneous, volatile type."

"Yeah, this is far from my proudest moment," Moon Dancer meekly admitted, shuffling her hooves.

"But can you blame us? He's just so exquisitely excellent," Minuette defended.

"What red-blooded mare could resist, Twi?" Lyra asked.

"I don't deny Gustave's appeal, but an obsession should never come between friends, or one's personal hygiene. As a matter of fact, it can serve as a wonderful exercise in the art of compromise: a core pillar in the foundation of any healthy friendship. Of course, it can be hard to practice when faced with something, or someone, that is quite desirable. One can easily lose themselves, certainly, when met with someone that's highly sought after. But it's vital to keep a clear head when dealing with someone who is popular, and talented, who knows their way around a kitchen, with immaculate grooming standards that accentuates a respectable physique, boasting a downy covering of raven-black splendor that one's eyes can easily drown in—"

"Will you stop drooling and get to the point, Twilight?"

"Oh, yes! Sorry, Lemon Hearts. In such cases, stopping and making a compromise is critically important. And perhaps the best, easiest, and most rewarding kind of compromise for this situation… would be to share."

Twilight kept silent to allow her solution to sink in. This proved unsatisfactory for the begging griffon.

"Quoi?" he squawked.

"You mean like, form a herd?" Twinkleshine asked.

"Fat chance; there’s no way I’m gonna get hitched with the likes of Lemon Hearts!" Lyra said, grabbing Gustave possessively like a stuffed animal. “I refuse to associate with anyone that intentionally sprays lemon juice in my eyes!”

“You threatened me with a sword!”

"Girls, girls, the time for arguing is over,” Twilight said to referee the situation. “Besides, I don’t want you to do something so barbaric as herding. No, what I have in mind is much simpler, more effective and, most importantly, guarantees that everypony gets to share Gustave without further fuss. I just need to borrow him for juuust a few quick minutes."

Rushed Resolutions

With a statement like that you would think Twilight was going to abscond with Gustave and keep him for herself, but being the good regent she was she explained herself and immediately won the approval of her peers/subjects. Turned out that her solution was rather simple indeed… as well as immensely irresponsible, and arguably insane. For in a zap of magic she had taken herself and Gustave to a certain subterranean cavern, where she dunked the griffon into a certain magical pool of water and held him under for several minutes, remembering to let him breathe at intervals. When the rock sealing the mirror pool was removed, Equestria was literally flooded in Gustave Le Grands, and everypony couldn't have been happier.

It's no exaggeration to say there was a Gustave for everyone. Several, in fact. Not one household, apartment, condo, hostel, hovel, or dumpster was without its own blinking, breathing, snuggly sensuous Le Grand, each and every one adorably clucking “qu’est-ce que c’est?” on repeat. The original Gustave was quickly lost in the shuffle, but none mourned the loss or even noticed (much to his relief, wherever he may be).

And why would they? It mattered not that the original article wasn’t theirs; it didn’t matter that the clones were essentially gibbering parrots incapable of giving or denying consent. It was the ultimate, carefree fantasy for everyone, as though heaven had decided to come down and pay them a visit for a change. And the fact that the copies seemed uninterested in food, water or general upkeep was icing on the feathery cake!

However, while 99% of the citizenry were totally onboard with being drowned in an endless sea of musky confectioners, the sudden population boom did draw the attention of certain ponies of interest. Namely, the former ruling diarchs.

"I find this very concerning, sister," Luna said within the confines of her luxury bungalow, watching the state of her beloved country through a scrying crystal. "Twilight Sparkle has chosen to act impulsively yet again."

"It would seem that way," agreed Celestia from her plus-sized wicker chair. "Although it's far from the worst, most disastrous thing she's done."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. Still, we may need to intervene if this gets more out of hoof than it currently is."

"Of course. But I still have the utmost faith in Twilight and her friends to handle things. And besides…" Celestia took a moment to snuggle with her bawking Gustave Le Grand. “What hurry is there in parting with something so firm, hunky and harmless?”

“I definitely agree; they are just the most adorable, sumptuous creatures!” Luna took up her two Gustaves and squeezed them against her sides with the greatest satisfaction. “I can only imagine how they perform in the bedroom.”

“Why save it for the bedroom? We have ample romping space here in the rumpus room.”

“Verily!”

It remained to be seen how Equestria would fare: if it will go back to “normal”, fall into feathery, Prench-accented ruin or strike a bizarre yet harmonious equilibrium. Whatever fate would ultimately be drawn, there was no denying that the Age of Gustave had begun with open, clingy, sweaty hooves.

The Gods have mercy on their depraved souls.

Elsewhere, in a lopsided but cozy cottage within the twisty bendy loopy-doopy panoramic dimension of hyperbole and absurdity, the roguish, dashing master of the realm had been watching the madness of the day unfold. Reclining on the most ergonomically unsound chair imaginable, Discord watched the wave of Gustave clones covering Equestria through the glass of a large Magic 8-Ball, an amused grin taking up most of his elongated face.

"I must say, you picked a rather fortuitous day to visit, Fluttershy," the draconequus said to the buttercream-coated pegasus lounging on the upturned sofa across from him.

"Oh my. I would never think Twilight would do that," Fluttershy remarked, her lovely eyes tracking the spreading griffon hoard like it were an ant migration.

"Even with more duties and years of experience on her metaphoric belt she still has that hilarious tendency of overdoing things, usually mistaking convenience for practicality. It’s always a gas whenever it happens."

"Still, it wasn't nice of you to make everyone fixated on poor Gustave."

"I have done no such thing," Discord said in mock offense. "All I did was merely increase their male awareness. It just so happened that Mr. Le Grand was the most attractive male in the area at the time."

"I just find it hard to believe everypony would lose control of themselves like that."

"Ahhh, but that's the insidious, all-consuming influence of lust, dearest Fluttershy. It starts off small: a mild attraction, quite innocent. But in no time it becomes a gnawing obsession that reduces a 'civilized' individual down into a one-dimensional shell of their former self. Millennia of evolution and none of you has truly been able to shake off your basest biological needs." Discord took a moment to chortle over this undeniable truth before continuing. “Then again, you ponies aren’t exactly the pillars of abstinent fortitude. All it takes is a well-coiffed mane, a certain fetlock style, a brief simmering glance to turn you to jelly.”

Discord took a moment to rub his paw along the 8-Ball before him as he adjusted a pair of bifocals. He reached behind his back to produce a long metal pointer that he held in his talon as well as a chalkboard that had a conveniently drawn diagram of Gustave Le Grand pre-drawn upon it. “So of course it’s no surprise for them to fall for someone as obnoxious as Gustave Le Grand here. How easily they overlook his flawed personality because he knows how to keep his talons trimmed, his beak clean and his feathers in place.”

Discord used the pointer to identify each key area for emphasis as he spoke. “Or comb his fur just the right way to make it shimmer like an onyx ocean. Or get enough sleep to keep the redness from his eyes, allowing them to stay clear, vibrant, inviting. So flawless and radiant. Like the sun if it were also a mirror…"

The draconequus abandoned the chalkboard in favor of leaning forward and gazing deeply into the 8-Ball, his lower jaw going slack and his eyes glazing. Suddenly, he reared back and clasped his head. “I can’t fight it anymore! I must make him mine!”

Discord readied to poof out, but a furiously-flustered Fluttershy grabbed and threw him violently against a wall, making him utter the sound a bird makes when you punch it (but not too hard because its bones are hollow and it probably couldn't make that sound if you crushed its lungs).

“Back off, skank! I’ve known him longer!” Fluttershy warned, and risin' up to the challenge of his rival Discord taunted, “Oh for like what, two days? Years ago? Besides, you have literal animal magnetism; you can bag any studly beast to satiate that lascivious appetite of yours.”

“Well mama is hungry for a bite of sizzlin'-hot griffon!”

Discord abruptly morphed into an exaggerated replica of their desired avian, boasting a ludicrously broad chest, a beak bent at a ridiculously sharp angle, and a mustache with more twists than a kirin’s mane. “Would this be enough to satisfy your craving?”

“YES!!”

The two immediately launched at each other and got into a riotous make-out session that wrecked the already messy living room and knocked the entire house in every possible direction. Wow, just look at them go. Reminds me of that one saying about an unstoppable force colliding with an immovable object. Only in this case it's the insatiable lust of a chaos god colliding with the sexual frustrations of an otherwise demure pegasus. Methinks it's going to be a while.

In any case, if there's a lesson to be learned from all this, it's that you should take care of your urges in the privacy and safety of your own home. If you have a partner who can help, that makes it better! Otherwise, you risk having your naughty inclinations spill over onto those around you. And that, my friends, can lead to a mess in every meaning of the word.

(Told you it was shoehorned)

Author's Note

To quote Death of Discworld:
THIS IS REALLY, REALLY STUPID.

My bingo card, for those who are curious:

Shout-outs to totallynotabrony and RCharge for editing/suggestions, Shrink Laureate for the contest, Epithet Erased for existing, and shortskirtsandexplosions for blessing us with one of the greatest story titles in the history of mankind. Three prominent songs that helped my writing/thinking process were "Wild Side" by ALI, "Train Rush" and "The Battle of Award 42" (particularly the last minute of it) from A Hat In Time's soundtrack.
Can you tell I'm into swing music?

Thank you all for reading!