//------------------------------//
// King or Sum shit 
// Story: Comedic Burst of Funniness 
// by Lunatic God 
//------------------------------//

In the middle of the night, In one of Canterlot Castle’s courtyards, there was the sound of swirling energy. Toothless cracked an eye open, which quickly locked onto the glowing orange eyes of a newcomer just a few feet away as a purple portal closed behind him. Opening both of his eyes, he slowly rose to a crouching position, watching as the newcomer fiddled with something on his foreleg. 

Toothless thought it strange that this newcomer was as tall as Chrysalis, or Thorax and his brother. He was black, like Chrysalis, but had no holes in his legs, like Thorax. His head fin and tail were red, and the dragon noticed that the Changeling's eyes were slitted, which did not match any of the Changeling's he knew of. Toothless tilted his head in curiosity. 

“Need more Electrum Mana…” the newcomer mumbled. 

At the mention of the volatile material, the dragon emitted the smallest of mumbles in curiosity. 

The newcomer froze as his head immediately snapped to Toothless, locking eyes. The dragon stood up fully, looking down at what he recognized as a Changeling. 

“5 more minutes…” A deep and staticky voice grumbled from on top of Toothless, prompting the dragon to curl his head backwards, stopping for a moment to glance back at the confused Changeling, then nuzzled the origin of the voice. While Toothless was distracted, the Changeling took a step back. 

“One more step, and I’ll shoot your ass,” the voice grumbled loudly before sitting up. The Changeling watched as a human in a white full-body outfit stretched, locking onto the single, large, glowing red eye on his fully helmeted face, his helmet attached to the armor in a way that showed no skin. 

The Changeling watched as the human slid off the dragon's back, turning to the Changeling and placing his right hand on an occupied pistol holster. With wide eyes, memories flashing by behind them, the Changeling's elytra immediately parted, his wings spreading in preparation to fly before stopping, realizing that the gun, a .357 Colt Python Elite with a black handguard, was now pointed at him. 

“You seem to know what this is,” the human commented. “Which means you also know what it does to people who don't listen.” He pulled back the hammer with a click. 

The Changeling snorted. ‘And look where that got me.’

The human chuckled. “Don't worry. Long as you don't try to escape, I won't have to use this little guy. Now, with that in mind, state your name and business.” 

“K-King Phasmatodea of the Fifth Hive,” the Changeling finally answered, his mind racing as he watched the human warily. “And wouldn't you like to know?”

“King?” The human echoed, ignoring that his second question was unanswered. He removed his finger from the gun’s trigger as he crossed his arms. “Dammit, that means we need to get Thorax…” He looked down in thought, silent for a few moments, then shrugged and looked back up. “Then we'll have to wait for him to finish teaching his friendship lesson.” 

“Friendship lesson?” Phasma asked, confused. “Shouldn't he be busy, I dunno, running a country?”

“Well, yeah, but it's kinda important that he's teaching this particular one,” the human stated. “I mean, it is Chrysalis. Nobody else can–” 

“Chrysalis?” Phasma interrupted, scowling at the man. “You sure she's actually listening to the friendship lesson?” 

“She shared her love. Transformed. Just like all the others. That kinda shit don't lie, man.” 

“And what if that's just a disguise? A lie to trick you into thinking she's reformed?” Phasma rebutted, disbelief clear in his voice. 

“Hey, I'm not convinced. Hell, most of us aren't convinced,” the man admitted, arms dropping back to his sides. “But I trust Thorax. He's the only one that's trying to understand her side of things, and he has the determination to help her change for the better.” 

“Plus, you–” he snarled, pointing at Phasma. “–Are not from this universe. Don't you dare judge our Chrysalis on what yours has done. You don't know the shit she went through to try and save her Changelings, only for them to split into fucking tribes and start fighting each other. She was dealt a shitty hand, just lost it all, and now she's dealing with a buncha alien dipshits getting teleported in from across the multiverse and an alien invasion so fucking dangerous that even our best had to go back in time to escape!” 

As he was yelling, the human had taken a step towards the Changeling, panting with his fists clenched at his sides. The dragon looked at him with concern, especially the gun still in his hand, but didn't interrupt. 

“So you can just shut up, go quietly, and let us figure out how to send you home,” the human said quietly. “This…is a pile…of shit…and I'm not gonna let you waltz in, spout your fucking past and let you fling this shit everywhere.” 

After a few moments, the human began doing breathing exercises, taking a step back and unclenching his fists. “Im sorry, that was…fuck, Luna’ll be pissed. 3650 to NF one, hold viscon on target, block possible ripcord sectors, code Breach. Over.” 

The dragon responded with a nod, putting on a face of determination. The dragon pointed at Phasma, then pointed at the ground. 

“3650 to Overwatch. Code breach in effect, west courtyard. Target is Charlie Lima. Designated VIP. Contain, do not let him near Charlie Lima Actual. Repeat, do not let him near Charlie Lima Actual. Over.” 

“Look I know you don't wanna be here,” 3650 stated, climbing up on Toothless before crossing his arms. “Just play nice, and we can get you back home without bloodshed.” 

“Really think you can?” Phasma asked, sitting down. 

“The Combine would kill me on sight, as well as the rebels. Hell, fighting Freeman is how I got here. Anyways, we'll put an ankle monitor on you, and assign a squad to watch you, then we're square until we find out how to reverse these damn thaumic crossover events and send you back.” 

“I don't need babysitters,” Phasma replied. 

“I'm sure you don't,” 3650 agreed. “But it makes ponies feel safe.” 

“Disregard last.”

Phasma whipped his head around to face the deep voice right behind him, stepping back in surprise as he looked up and up, feeling an increasing sense of dread as his eyes moved up the jagged ebony-colored armor, which had a pulsing red glow emanating from under it's plates, before his eyes locked onto the eye holes of the helmet, which were staring right back at him. 

“Disregard that ponies will feel safe?” 3650 questioned casually. 

“No. Disregard Code Breach protocol,” the man in the armor continued, his words slow with strangely elongated final syllables, whilst he stood tall and unusually still with his hands behind his back, underneath his Vale-patterned [<Insert image link] fur cloak. Phasma flinched when the unknown Weave supplied the correct word, then realized that it was emitting from the human right beside him, and that he hadn't felt it until now. But now that he has, it felt…immensely scary. His ears involuntarily pinned back. “Establish code Chim.”

“Chim?” 3650 echoed, then gestured towards the Changeling. “For him? Really?” 

“For real and for true, 3650.” The armored man knelt down, although still ended up a head taller than Phasma. 

“Thou hast no need to worry, King Phasmatodea,” he stated. “Thou hath the Chim, the Secret Syllable of Royalty, gifted to thee by thine God. By uh, Panarthropo, if thy memory serves me correct.” Phasma felt the gentle pull on his Weave as the human pulled the information. He scowled, but said nothing. “Thy art recognized as royalty in Daedra culture–” he placed a hand on his chest with a clank. “–my culture. But most importantly, thy art free and safe from Oblivion’s corruption.” 

“...I’m guessing that doesn’t cover the Nightmares?” Phasma asked. 

“Do they invade the minds of good-hearted people and manipulate their bodies to cause chaos?” 

“Basically, yeah.” 

“Then it is covered, whether they were a creation from Oblivion or not,” the man told him, placing a cold metal hand on Phasma’s shoulder reassuringly–and carefully, as to not accidentally cut Phasma with the jagged horns of his shield on his right forearm–before standing slowly with a low grunt of exertion, each movement accompanied by the grinding and colliding of his metal armor. 

“...Well, it didn’t work before,” Phasma scoffed. 

“‘Twas an option likely unknown to Panarthropo until you arrived in a world with me,” the man explained. “Now, as a sign of good faith, I wouldst like to make thy Chim permanent, active outside of Oblivion-touched dimensions such as this one.” 

“What would happen if I left without making it permanent?” Phasma asked, ever so slightly shrinking back under the man's unrelenting gaze. 

“The Syllable ‘twould merely be removed by the forces of Harmony within the next dimension, stripping you of its benefits and drawbacks.” 

“What drawbacks?” 

“On a non-Daedra, really just that magic will see you as a Daedra, so spells and enchantments crafted to combat Daedra will wield their extra effectiveness against thou,” the man explained to Phasma. “But very few dimensions of Equestria art touched by Oblivion, so I doubt the drawbacks will be of any worry.” 

“Anything else I should know about?” Phasma asked coldly. The spell in the man's hand disappeared as he moved that hand to his chin in thought for a few moments. 

“Well, should thee enter a heavily Oblivion-touched dimension, with a similar level of affliction as my home of Tamriel, thy would still be seen as a Daedric prince, which would cause mass fear, due to thy actually possessing a physical body.” He leaned in, putting emphasis on his next words as he spoke them in a whisper. “And never again will you feel true love for you, as you will be seen as a Daedric monster, no matter your actions.”

Phasma was silent for a while. 

“...What about love from before?” Phasma asked, slightly quieter. 

“As long as they do not see thou as a monster, thou shalt be fine,” the human answered, returning to casual speech as he leaned back. 

“...As long as it doesn’t hurt,” Phasma finally told him. 

“Great! Such diversity in the Princes will do wonders! Now, the process differs for each individual, changing with the intentions of the marked,” he informed the Changeling. 

“Fuck does that mean?” Phasma questioned. 

“Think about it. I must obtain the necessary permissions.” The man stepped past the Changeling with loud, thudding footsteps. Phasma turned, opening his mouth to ask the man to wait, but he was nowhere to be found. Phasma looked around, thoroughly confused. 

3650 chuckled, watching in amusement as his dragon also looked around in confusion. “You can hear him comin’ a mile away, but only if you’re lookin’ at him.” 

“How does that work?” Phasma asked, pointing a raised brow at 3650. 

“I asked that too,” the human answered with a shrug. “All he told me was that Nocturnal works in mysterious ways.” 

“...Shit, I forgot to ask–”

“Don’t,” 3650 interrupted. “He doesn’t help dimension hoppers like you.” 

“Like me?” Phasma asked with a glare. “What does that mean?” 

3650 was silent for a moment, then looked away. Toothless shrugged, nudging the man, but 3650 didn’t budge. Toothless gave Phasma an apologetic look. 

“Is it because I’m black?” Phasma asked casually. 

“What the– no!” 3650 exclaimed, looking back at the Changeling. “It has nothing to do with your color! Nothing!” 3650 looked somewhere to Phasma’s left. “Luna! Help me out here!” 

With wide eyes, Phasma quickly looked to his left, and jumped with how close Princess Luna was. 

“Jesus!” Phasma exclaimed. “How the fuck are you all sneaking up on me like that?!” 

“Muffling enchantment,” Luna answered with a proud smile, lifting a hoof to show off her silver shoe, which had a soft sheen of barely noticeable blue magic. “Courtesy of Dag’gar.” 

“Dag’gar? Is that the tall fuck’s name?” Phasma asked. 

“Yes it is,” Luna confirmed, lowering her hoof. “And I would appreciate it if you do not call him names.” 

“S-Sorry,” Phasma mumbled, then looked at the human, briefly pointing at him. “Do you have any special enchantments?” 

“Classified,” 3650 said immediately. 

“Muffled footwear is standard issue–” 

“Lunaaa!” 3650 interrupted. “Why are we telling this new guy we met five minutes ago state secrets?!” 

“So he knows how fucked he is if he decides to be evil,” Luna answered easily. Phasma flinched at how easily she cursed. 

“He knows what a gun is!” 3650 retorted. “He already knows how fucked he would be!” 

“Plus, I trust him,” Luna added. 

“WHY?! HE COULD BE A USURPATION!” 3650 yelled angrily. 

“I have my reasons,” Luna answered calmly. “Please calm down.” 

Phasma glanced at Luna, noticing absolutely no fear from her. 

“FUCK YOU!” 3650 screamed. Phasma recoiled with an audible gag at the pure vitriol pouring from the man’s words. Toothless barked at the man with a glare. 3650 emitted a long sigh, venting his anger as he patted Toothless a couple times before sitting back and crossing his arms. 

After a moment, Toothless’ glare subsided as he looked back to the two onlookers. He pointed at Luna, then Phasma, before giving a thumbs up with a questioning look. Luna nodded. 

“Do not worry, dear Thirty-six and Toothless. I’ve got this well in hoof. You may go.” She gave a gentle wave of dismissal with her hoof. 

“Now hold on,” 3650 mumbled loudly, barely comprehensible in his garbled voice. “You shouldn’t be alone with him, Princess.” 

“Do not fret, for Overwatch has eyes on,” Luna stated. Right after, she looked away slightly, raising her hoof to her ear and listening intently. After a moment, she glanced at Phasma, who was watching her in curiosity, before she turned her head to fully look at him. “King Phasmatodea, were you previously a human?” 

Phasma flinched in surprise. “W-What? No! Never! Why?” 

“Do not lie. I am privy to the inner workings of the Secret Syllable of Royalty, including the fact that the version offered to you by one Dag’gar art designed for a human soul.” 

“I am a Changeling.” 

“I know that, but is your soul human?” Luna asked with a cute little tilt of her head, making Phasma look away slightly before he sighed. 

“...Five minutes here and you already know all my secrets,” Phasma mumbled. 

“Oh, do not worry, dear King Phasmatodea,” Luna started, placing a hoof on his shoulder. “Apart from those whom you have met, plus Overwatch, your history is private, and shall remain that way.” 

He nodded silently, then heard a door bang open to his left. Turning his head, he saw two humans. Or, human-like? They looked more like… Roblox avatars? However, that quickly became unimportant as his eyes fell upon the M60 machine guns that were pointed at him, one of them glowing a bright neon red around a pattern of Kool-Aid Man faces. In his peripheral vision, Pharma saw Luna facehoof. 

“GREETINGS!” The one with the glowing gun yelled jovially with a huge smile. “I AM NEON BOY!” He then gestured to his friend, who waved at him. “THIS IS LOGANG BOY! WE WILL ACCOMPANY YOU AS YOU GET PROCESSED!” 

“AND MAYBE AFTER TOO!” Logang Boy added. 

“3650, did you call these two fucking goobers?” Luna questioned in annoyance. 

“Well, I have a feeling that only guns can intimidate this new fella, and I know these two goobers have big guns,” 3650 explained. “And by that, I mean they were the closest, and of course ignored Dag’gar’s last, so they got here first.” 

Luna sighed in frustration, then glared at the pair, making them throw up quick salutes in unison. 

“Boys, don't be rude to him, okay?” Luna asked in a motherly tone. They nodded in unison. With a nod of her own, she moved her lips to Phasma’s ear, whispering to him. “I don't care what you say to them, but try not to diss their guns. They have a two pony–er, person cult around these infernal things for some reason.” 

“Of course they do,” Phasma whispered with a slight roll of his eyes. 

“But they are good at heart. Please try to use gentle words.” After that, Luna moved back, addressing them all. “Alllright! It seems you've got this well in hand, gentlemen! I'll be off!” 

Luna stepped back, doing a one-eighty while spreading her wings, then silently launched into the night sky. Phasma watched her, sighing glumly. 




 
Some Amount of Time Later… Maybe an Hour 


Walking down a hall of the castle with a deep frown, Phasma was enduring a headache. His escort insisted on yelling the whole time they watched him, and were currently laughing at something he didn't care about, which reverberated in the small hallway and exacerbated his pain. 

Suddenly, they were stopped as a Royal Guard stepped in front of them. Phasma raised a brow, not feeling any emotion from the blank faced white stallion. 

“Reveal yourself,” Phasma ordered through the Weave. He didn't expect the pony to follow the order, but was watching for any sort of reaction to indicate if it was a Changeling. 

“I'm to take over as the asset's escort,” the pony stated. 

“I'm right here,” Phasma sneered. 

“NONSENSE!” Neon Boy shouted, making the Changeling flinch. “PRINCESS LUNA HERSELF ASSIGNED US AS HIS ESCORT!” 

“Seems like you didn't get enough information to infiltrate correctly,” Phasma commented. The pony's eyes very, very slowly moved from the ‘humans’ to him. He could almost hear the stone grinding sound effect. 

“SILENCE, PHASMA! WE WILL HANDLE THIS!” Neon Boy said. 

“BUT NEON, HE IS A CHANGELING! AN EXPERT IN INFILTRATION!” Logang Boy started. Unbeknownst to him, Phasma barely noticeably rolled his eyes. “WE SHOULD LISTEN, JUST TO BE SAFE!” 

Neon Boy was silent for a moment. For a moment, Phasma thought about looking back, but decided to keep his eyes on the pony instead. 

“GUARD!” Neon Boy suddenly shouted, making the pony's eyes snap to him. “WHAT'S NINE PLUS TEN?” 

From way down the hall, Phasma could feel a burst of fear emanate from a guard standing by a door, before said guard magically opened it and quickly stepped in. 

Phasma also heard two barely audible clicks from behind him, making his hair stand on end. Well, he didn't have hair, but the feeling was there nonetheless. 

“Nineteen.” The guard looked between the two ‘humans’. Phasma slowly sat down and covered his ears. 

“Do not move, pris–” the pony started, there one second and being filled with holes the next. Phasma screwed his eyes shut as he was sprayed with blood, pressing his hooves against his ears harder to try and block out the non-stop extremely loud bangs from behind him, yet his attempts were quickly rendered moot as his ears began ringing loudly. He wanted to move away from the poor disguised creature, but was scared to accidentally step into the line of fire. 

After maybe a few minutes, sensing nothing but the warm blood covering and dripping off of his chitin, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He slowly cracked his eyes open, and looked to his right at Neon Boy, whose mouth was moving. He tried to read the flapping lips, and only made out one word. 

‘Invasion’. 

After a few moments, he noticed that Neon Boy had stopped. As in, he was as still as a statue, mouth frozen mid-word. Looking around, he noticed an angry Logang Boy with his gun pointed up, caught in the midst of doing a one-eighty. He discerned the reason why when he looked right, seeing three humans in tan armor with red visors sprinting towards them, holding up strange weapons–CS-BNG. Wielded by Usurpation Destroyers. 

Wait, this isn't Dag'gar's–

“Kiiiing Phasmatodeaaaaa…” 

Frozen with wide eyes, Phasma watched as a stallion in a dark blue suit stepped straight through the group of destroyers, stopping in front of them before adjusting his black tie with his left forehoof. Over his barrel was a pair of unmarked brown saddlebags. The wrinkles on his blank face showed his age, and his blue-green eyes seemed to glow with otherworldly energy. His mane was black, cut short and slicked back. Phasma could not see his cutie mark from here. 

“While I do not usually interfere with the affairs of…who you call, Panarthropo,” the stallion started, speaking slowly. “I am afraid that my employers have not scheduled you here, at this time.” 

“It means that you will be transferred to the correct dimension.” A white door grew from the ground behind the stallion, who turned and disappeared through it. The world around him faded away into black, before the door quickly expanded, suddenly filling his vision with blinding white and causing Phasma to step back with a hiss, raising a hoof to cover his squinting eyes. 

After a few moments, Phasma lowered his hoof. Looking around, he recognized the room that he and Luna spent so much time together in within his dreams. 

“In compensation for this oversight,” the pony spoke, his voice echoing while his body was not seen. “My employers have allowed you one… dream, connected through dimensions, with the one you love.” 

As he finished, Princess Luna quickly began fading in. As soon as she was solid, her mane and tail began to wave in an invisible wind like they always did, as she looked around in confusion. Then, they locked eyes.