“You’re not coming to the wedding?”
Two sisters sat at the dining table, enjoying a meal together for the first time in a while; one eating dinner, the other eating breakfast. Two sisters, polar opposites, they rarely got to dine together, thanks to the nature of their schedules. They hadn’t always gotten on together, but that was to be expected -- there was no such thing as a sibling relationship that didn’t get rocky at some point, and in any case, conflict was the spice of life. And these two sisters needed that spice, for theirs was the longest one.
“I wish I could, Celly,” Luna said. “But I’ve been up all night, and I simply wouldn’t be in any condition to attend. I’d look awful, and I’d be yawning, and...”
“Okay, okay,” Celestia said, pouting. “You know it’s the only chance you’ll have to see our niece get married for at least a hundred years and probably more, right?”
“I’m sorry,” reiterated Luna, spooning some salad into her mouth. “But I fear I’d only put a damper on proceedings. Not to mention I’m sure most ponies still harbor fear for me.”
Celestia’s lips pursed. “I wish they’d let Nightmare Moon go. I have.”
“Give it time,” Luna muttered. “It’s only been two years. Mortals are slow to forgive and forget; strange, since their time is so limited.”
“Chalk it up to our experience regarding grudges,” Celestia smiled. “Well, the celebration will continue until well after sunset, so you’re free to join us at any time.”
“I shall,” Luna said, nodding and getting up, stifling a yawn. “I think I shall retire at this point. I forgot how tiring it is to cast spells of scrying all night.”
Celestia nodded. “Sleep well, sister.”
“See you tonight.”
======
They came for her while she slept.
Luna slumbered fitfully, roused from sleep by a number of clues that all was not well. For one, she was over-warm. A window was perhaps open, which led neatly to problem number two, the sunlight beating on her closed eyelids, not something that would normally happen. Maker knew she loved her sister, but Celly could be a great big bag of parasprites sometimes with how bright she made the sun shine. She often wondered if it was just to wind her up, a practical joke on a cosmic scale.
And thirdly, the step of hooves. Nopony employed by the Castle was foolish enough to intrude on the Princesses’ bedchambers uninvited, much less when they were asleep, and Celly had better things to do than rustle Luna’s breakfast cereal. Which meant these intruders were not Luna’s loyal subjects, nor her sister, which was the second guess.
Her eyes snapped open, bloodshot from interrupted sleep, and the insect-like creature leaning over her let out a small noise of surprise.
With a blast of magic, the creature was flung across the room at high speed, plowing through the wall in a cascade of rubble. Luna sat up, eyes watering at exposure to sunlight, and saw that her assailant hadn’t been alone; a trio of the creatures stood nearby, alternating alarmed looks between the hole in the wall and their friend under the rubble, and Luna herself. They stepped back, chittering amongst themselves as they slowly made their way to the door, trying not to draw her attention and failing miserably.
Luna watched them go with a steely eye, before her other eye noticed something lying in the middle of the floor near where the creatures had been standing, a dear friend who should not have been lying there so... broken. She dived forward, leaping to it’s side, cradling it in her hooves.
“Abacus!” She raised the primitive mathematical aid in her hooves, alarmed. “Abacus, speak to me!”
The abacus did not respond, as inanimate objects are wont to do, save to rattle slightly as a bead fell off a broken strut. Luna closed her eyes, and reverentially laid the item down on the ground, before standing up straight, at her full height. A set of sunglasses resting on a peg were enveloped in a magical glow and pulled across the room to land on her face, allowing her to open her night-adjusted eyes without pain.
The creatures saw the expression on her face, and knew that they were in so much trouble, being buried under half a tonne of rubble was sounding more like an infinitely less painful option with every second that passed.
Luna gritted her teeth. “You changeling parasprites are going to pay for messing up my abacus.”
======
Changelings. Nasty little creatures.
Luna swung a silver-shod hoof through the air, and chitin cracked as the changeling had no choice but to obey the laws of physics and fly out the window, at speed.
Devious creatures, they fed off emotions directed at the pony they were imitating. Love was their preferred sustenance, although Luna vaguely recalled they were able to feed off any sufficiently strong emotion. The only one they couldn’t handle was raw hatred.
Luna grabbed a fleeing changeling by the neck with telekinesis, and used the changeling like a bat to smash three of his comrades into a marble pillar.
It was a pity they couldn’t feel the hatred she had for them right now. Abacus was- had been- a good mathematical aid, just two days from retirement, which was when Luna would finally pick up one of those new-fangled “calculators”. Luna gritted her jaw. When this was all over, she had a difficult letter to write to Mrs. Sexton.
Moonlight danced around the crowded hallway, and ice encrusted everything it touched; mostly changelings. The frost of the coldest night in winter, not something Luna got to play with much outside of the longest night of the year, which was a pity, because the patterns it formed were so very pretty.
Luna kicked out, and one of the changelingsicles was smashed into a million pieces almost as an afterthought, as Luna considered the situation. Why were they here in Canterlot of all places? She looked out the window, as she flung a hoof out, clotheslining a changeling going the other way, and saw it.
Or rather, she didn’t see it. Shining Armor’s dome had vanished, and the sky was thick with chitinous invaders. The answer: Something had happened to Shining Armor, and possibly the wedding itself.
This all ran through Luna’s analytical, scientific mind, which, deep down, was always watching, always thinking. Unfortunately for the changelings, it was staying deep-down, and between that and the world at large was a Luna who was, at best, intolerant of being woken up early and at present, emotionally distraught at the demise of her abacus.
“WHO WANTS SOME?” Luna boomed, shamelessly using the Royal Canterlot Voice exactly where she’d been told not to use it -- indoors. The resulting wave of sound blew several frozen changelings into small, frosty fragments, and sent others flying backwards down the hallway, clutching the sides of their heads in agony. The hallway cleared, Luna cantered at a brisk pace down the hallway, taking care to step heavily on any changeling that didn’t look like a pile of broken chitin at this point.
Luna stepped outside, onto a castle rampart, and let out a low growl when she saw what had happened to Canterlot. First she was woken up early, and then her abacus was broken, and then, just to add insult to injury, her little ponies were in mortal peril. She saw clusters of resinous goop in the streets below, and encased within, ponies struggling to escape.
“Nopony threatens my little ponies and gets away with it!” she growled.
The sounds of commotion within the castle got her attention;; she turned and saw a pair of larger changelings walking through a doorway with confidence all but oozing out of every pore; they were about her size and thrice as heavy-set thanks to chitin that was thicker than the average Canterlot noble -- they were insectoid juggernauts.
Luna didn’t give much for her chances of breaking that heavy shell without help. She could just freeze her way through it and be efficient; but right now, the irritation of being woken up early, along with grief and taking the attack on Canterlot as a personal insult, it all formed into a single call for cathartic, primitive, primal, unyielding violence.
Luna’s eye spotted a red-trimmed, glass-fronted cabinet on the wall; a plaque read “Emergency Use Only” (thus meaning, use it every day), and within, a sturdy axe rested on two pegs, never used. (Direct violation of plaque instructions.) Luna ran over to the cabinet, and after a cursory search for a proper way to open it (which proved fruitless), she simply reared back, and slammed her forehead into the cabinet.
With a tinkle of glass, Luna ripped the fire axe free, blood trickling down her face as she stared down the approaching behemoths, twirling the axe in her telekinetic grip.
“Come hither,” she said, beckoning. “I’ve got some questions to axe you.”
The Behemoths charged as one, heavy steps causing the very ground to shake with their approach. Luna leapt, twirled, and swung her axe in a vicious uppercut.
With a crash, one of the behemoths was brought to a terrifyingly abrupt halt,chin rising into the air and even moving backwards with the force of the impact. The axe made a loud metallic clang, and the wood fragments flew through the air as the axe itself exploded, the head reduced to a vaguely axe-shaped lump of steel.
Luna regarded the broken tool with contempt. “Shoddy modern tools...”
The changeling she’d backflipped with the axe wasn’t really in a condition to regard anything, much less with contempt, since the impact had done a solid job of rattling whatever it had for a brain. The behemoth landed on it’s back with a whud, and Luna cast aside the axe-handle irritably.
Then she was hit by a freight train in the form of a four-legged changeling behemoth, the one that she hadn’t knocked out cold. The beast carried her across the room, and without pausing to slow down, through the wall with a crash of masonry and stone.
It didn’t stop, carrying her through wall after wall, even as Luna swore and pounded on the creature’s back and spine with a hoof. It took an extended period where Luna was not being used as a battering ram for the princess to get free and escape her place on the front of the behemoth.
She landed on the carpet runner with a quiet impact, and looked around. Next to the wall, a familiar shape rested -- one of Pinkie Pie’s party cannons. Luna picked it up, and after a moment’s thought, emptied out the party-specific payload, replacing it with magically-sifted lumps of stone and rubble.
She felt the tremors of the approaching Behemoth, and spun around, dropping into her back and kicking up as she fired the cannon.
With a loud BLAM, stone and rubble became shrapnel, and the behemoth’s head exploded, the rest of the corpse completing it’s forced aerial arc to land on it’s ragged stump of a neck before rolling to a halt. Luna, covered in blood, got up and discarded the spent charge, levitating a belt of party cannon charges over her shoulder and around her neck as she reloaded her improvised weapon.
She sensed trouble, and still shoving debris down the barrel, turned around to see a trio of behemoths, none of them looking terribly impressed with her antics thus far.
“It is time for me to kick flank and masticate rubbery gum candy,” Luna said coldly, adjusting her sunglasses to sit better on her face as she wiped some gore off the lens. “And Pinkie Pie hath beaten me to the gum.”
======
The doors to the throne room flew open, and what was left of a behemoth landed on the carpet, to muffled cries of horror. Following it was a depleted, smoking party cannon, and one rather upset night princess.
Luna looked upwards, and saw wedding guests suspended in cocoons or stuck to the ceiling by adhesive resin. She noted several rather handsome stallions among them and sighed wistfully.
“Why is it always the hot ones?”
“Princess Luna,” a buzzing voice hailed. “So good of you to join us for the reception!”
Luna looked to the altar; above the altar, Celestia had been suspended in a cocoon of her own, unconscious and upside-down. Where her sister would have stood during the ceremony, a twisted, black creature stood in a mockery of a wedding ceremony, the couple-to-be bound by resin to the floor at her sides.
“I am Queen Chrysalis,” the Changeling Queen declared. “I’ll cut to the chase. Canterlot is now mine, and it’s only a matter of time before I have all of Equestria. I have absorbed enough love to overpower even Celestia, and the elements of harmony aren’t going to be able to stop me. The day is going exactly according to plan, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. What about you?”
“I’ve lost a dear friend,” Luna said flatly. “I’ve been woken up early. My subjects are in danger. My sister has been assaulted by you and yours, and I’ll just assume you’re to blame for ruining the wedding as well.” Luna pointed an accusatory hoof at the changeling queen. “I’m having a really bad day -- allow me to show you just how bad.”
“I think not,” Chrysalis chuckled darkly, tapping a chitinous hoof. “Grig. Step forward.”
A small changeling fluttered through the window, and circling around, landed in front of Chrysalis, facing Luna as if he was going to defend Chrysalis with his life.
Luna snorted derisively. “That weak little thing’s going to fight your battle for you, is he?”
“Don’t be so hasty,” Chrysalis said, “This is my bodyguard. This,” Chrysalis said as a warm glow enveloped her horn and a lance of energy shot into Grig’s back, “is Grig when he’s on one hundred percent, undistilled love.”
Luna’s face was fixed in a disbelieving sneer. A sneer that rapidly fell from her face as Grig bucked and bulged, chitin tearing as it made way for progressively newer, larger layers. Luna’s gaze slowly moved from below her height, to straight ahead, and eventually, above her, a shadow being cast across her and the carpet around her, Luna’s sunglass-clad face reflecting the hulking new form of Grig in front of her, his skin a roiling expanse of jagged and splintered chitin.
“Oh, hay no.”
There was a sweep of a pockmarked hoof, moving far faster than anything that size had a right to be moving, and Luna found the tables turned, herself being the one thrown through the air, leaving her tiara spinning in the air comically. Luckily for her, it was straight over the edge of the balcony, with no glass to prove an obstacle.
Unluckily for her, she was dazed by the sledgehammer hit, and by the time she could see just one oversized behemoth diving off the balcony towards her, she was far too close to the ground to be gliding out of trouble.
Flagstones smashed as Luna wrapped herself in otherworldly energies and reinforced her body to endure the impact; ponies nearby that hadn’t been imprisoned by changelings screamed loudly at the impact, relaxing a little when they saw it was just their friendly, not-evil Princess of the Night and oh sweet Celestia what is that thing landing on top of her-
With a heavy slam of raw mass on cobblestones, Grig landed on top of the princess, legs splayed out as he went for a bodyslam. Ponies shrieked, and many lost their nerve, fleeing into the street where changelings swooped down and plucked them up into the air. Those that did remain, either out of willpower or blind terror, were able to bear witness to a rare sight -- something not seen in a little over a thousand years now.
Luna got mad.
There was a creak of overloaded chitin, and Grig’s eyes went wide as his splayed-out posture slowly rose into the air. Underneath him, Luna stood on her rear legs, forehooves high above her head as one exposed, bloodshot eye glared out into space through the broken lens of her sunglasses, as if daring the universe to test her temper one more time.
With a scream of passion, fury and grief, she threw Grig, and the oversized changeling flew into a storefront, demolishing it almost completely, along with a good portion of the second floor. Luna returned to all fours, and swept the broken sunglasses off her face so Grig could feel the twin barrels of hatred glaring at him.
The oversized changeling rolled onto his hooves, and roared, galloping into a charge. Luna stood her ground, unflinching, until the last moment, when she spun, and lashed out with a kick of the gods.
The Equestrian Royal Guard undertook matters of personal defense for the Princesses on the basis that expecting a princess to defend herself simply wasn’t okay, even if they were gods and quite capable of dealing with any mundane and most supernatural threats to the crown. The truth was, any male watching the princesses really go to town on anything just made them feel inadequate by comparison. It wasn’t unknown for guardsponies to observe the power of the princesses, and abruptly resign from the guard in order to go on a journey of self-discovery or enlightenment out of sheer emasculation, and that was when the princesses weren’t trying to utterly decimate the target.
The charging Grig weighed just a little on the heavy side -- some three tons, and he’d managed to hit a scorching pace in his short run-up. A lesser pony, even a certain masked superhero from Ponyville, would have simply failed to even phase the changeling, pitched forward and eaten flagstone before falling over and getting trampled to death in the face of Grig’s strength.
Luna managed to not only stop Grig cold, but with a swift wind-up and second sharp delivery, delivered a second hit that staggered the titan-class changeling. It stumbled into a lamp post, causing the civic property to squeal alarmingly as it bent, and the changeling used it to stand up properly, feeling his cheek and the twin hoofprints stamped firmly into the chitin. Luna grinned, and with shakes of her hooves, dislodged her now-ruined shoes, beckoning Grig forward with a come-hither curl of her forehoof.
“Come on, big colt. Show me thy moves,” she taunted.
Grig growled a feral growl, and launched himself forward once more; rather than go for a blind charge this time, though, he kept a far slower pace, and when Luna went for a second buck, he slipped to the side, ducked under her attack, and swept under her, swinging upwards with a foreleg in a swift uppercut. There was a whud, and Luna went flying into the air, spinning about as she flapped her wings, trying to right herself.
She’d barely spun a third, eye-watering revolution when she managed to stop it, going from a spinning, uncontrolled rise into a sharp, directed drop, rear hooves outstretched for a flying kick. Grig’s hoof flicked up like a rattlesnake, and quick as lightning, swung her groundwards like a flail.
Luna hit the cobblestones once more with a smash, and Grig didn’t stop there, bringing Luna back to his other side to slam into the cobblestones again. The display of power and aggression didn’t stop until Grig was standing in between two vaguely equine-shaped craters. The dust slowly cleared, and Grig puffed heavily with the effort -- being huge wasn’t easy, but it had helped today. He’d be surprised if the pony princess was anything more than a fleshy, bruised sack of broken cal-
A midnight-blue hoof reached around, and twisted into a firm grip, making use of Grig’s hole-riddled legs for a better hold. Luna grinned at Grig from the end of the gripping leg, spitting teeth.
“My turn.”
Grig’s eyes went wide as he was lifted off the ground, and with a deep cry of terror, he was subjected to the same treatment that he’d just taken pride in giving to Luna. The impacts on the ground were like the hoofstomps of the gods, the ground shaking and juddering with each impact, as Luna used Grig as a living hammer to hit nails that didn’t exist. Ponies and now changelings alike winced as Luna brutalized the bigger creature, and breathed a collective sigh of relief when she finally got bored of it.
Grig wasn’t in a condition to hold much of an opinion of anything, eyes addled and mouth missing more than a few fangs, his chitin broken clean through in places, exposing slightly translucent, somewhat pink flesh.
And still, Luna was not done, lifting the changeling titan up and balancing him on his legs unsteadily. Grig cooperated, a bit of a mistake when he realized Luna was rearing back, brandishing her forehooves.
With a crushingly painful series of strikes, Luna demonstrated the true art that was hoof-to-hoof combat, an endless stream of straight rights and left hooks serving as an example of form in the noble, centuries-old sport. Grig stumbled backwards, his face cracking, splintering and bleeding as it was pummeled into a chitinous pancake.
Eventually, the punch-drunk Grig realized he wasn’t being hit any more, and that’s because Luna, in her eternal grace, had her hooves up in the air, slowly turning around and shouting her superiority int othe air as the growing crowd began to roar in anticipation -- even the changelings were excited, forgoing care for their comrade in favor of the excitement of a good, old-fashioned beat-down.
Grig coughed up a few more fangs as Luna stopped showboating, and gripped him firmly by the shoulders, and spun him around. His eyes went wide as he was pulled onto his hind legs, and gripped firmly about the midsection by two hooves that were so tight, he didn’t have a chance of escaping.
With a roar of fury, Luna lifted, and arched her back, throwing herself backwards with all her might. Grig had little option but to follow, a trail of spittle marking his crescent path through the air, before Luna’s back became a perfect arch, and Grig was exposed to that most iconic of wrestling maneuvers: The Germane Suplex.
His head and shoulders hit the ground hard, and the audience could hear the crumpling of chitin against the forces being put to work. Stone splintered, and Grig gasped in pain as his neck was forced into his shoulders by the power of the blow. And it was here that Luna finally let go, leaving Grig free to do what all squishy things did when hitting the ground that hard.
He bounced, skipping across the devastated street like a cast pebble, eventually sliding to a halt against the other side of the street. Luna straightened, and posed once more for the crowd, showing off her bicep.
“I still got it,” she declared, fond memories of a physical disagreement with the Dragon Lord of the Ruby Expanse some thousand-plus years ago running through her mind, even as she hooked a hoof into the broken chitin of Grig’s chest.
The Changeling Titan groaned as he was hoisted into the air again, his head brought level with Luna’s face.
“Don’t ever let me catch you in my Equestria again,” she growled.
Grig just nodded weakly, before dribbling some more blood and passing out. Luna dropped the body without ceremony, and turned to face the changelings, who suddenly thought of better places to be, fleeing into the air before they could be made an example of.
Luna nodded in satisfaction, before the ground was shaken by a second tremor, this time the air filling with a rosy glow of power.
“Cadance,” Luna muttered, before she felt a stiff wind being driven past her. Above her, she saw changelings flying through the air by the hundreds, chief among them a larger, lankier changling. Luna took the opportunity to show the airborne Chrysalis the back of her hoof, before a wave of pink light washed over her.
The ambient energy was stunning -- powerful enough to just pick up and throw changelings like they were ragdolls, but controlled enough to be discreet and only pick up and throw changelings. Powerful enough that it bled enough magical energy to make simply passing through the barrier was like a week at the spa, and discriminating enough to only give that power to ponies and not changelings.
The wave passed on, and Luna watched the dome race out to the limits of Canterlot and stop, fading into a gentle mist of light.
“That’s love, baby,” she muttered, before picking up what was left of her shoes, and with a beat of her wings, lifting off into the air.
======
By the time the sun had set, Canterlot had changed drastically. The remains of the failed invasion had been swept under the city’s collective rug, to be dealt with another day, the wedding had been done once more (properly, this time) and Luna had woken up with a hangover, an empty bottle of cider resting in the crook of her leg, teething pains where new teeth had grown to replace lost ones, and four dented and scuffed platinum horseshoes scattered across the midnight carpet of her room.
And in the corner, a white cloth covered what had once been a noble, calculating abacus. Luna regarded it solemnly, before thumping a hoof to her chest and making a small salute, before focusing her attention on the mare in the mirror.
Her exploits earlier in the day were a hazy blur, adrenaline and rage obfuscating the details of her rampage. Oh, Faust. She’d lost her temper, and after all that progress with the psychiatrist...
What if I just pretended it never happened, she mused as she combed out her mane and set the moon on an upwards arc almost absent-mindedly. As fuzzy as her memories were, she didn’t think anypony actually saw her.
Which is good, she decided, as she fished a fresh set of regalia out of her wardrobe. There was a list of things she needed, and “psychiatrist on her case” was not one of them. All she had to do was play it cool, pretend that she’d been asleep the whole time, and it’d all go quietly.
She could always blame what was left of the changelingsicles on somepony in the guard. She wasn’t the only pony that could freeze things solid, right? Yeah, that sounded like a plan.
She walked over to her balcony, and looked down at the party going on in the palace gardens, and flaring her wings, swooped down to join them.
Just play it cool, Luna. Act natural, act natural...
She touched down next to Celestia and Twilight and friends, and flashed them a (thankfully intact) smile.
“Hello, everypony. Did I miss anything?”
Luna Moonem: Ghettoquestria Edition
Some of you may have heard of Gizoogle.
Well, I ran this story through it, and this is what I got.
Don't read if you can't handle a little swearing, do read if you want a cheap laugh.
Luna Moonem: Ghettoquestria Edition
By Silvertie, co-authored by Gizoogle
"You’re not comin ta tha wedding?"
Two sistas sat all up in tha dinin table, enjoyin a meal together fo' tha last time up in a while; one smokin dinner, tha other smokin breakfast. Two sisters, polar opposites, they rarely gots ta dine together, props ta tha nature of they schedules. They hadn’t always gotten on together yo, but dat was ta be expected -- there was no such thang as a siblin relationshizzle dat didn’t git rocky at some point, n' up in any case, conflict was tha spice of game fo' realz. And these two sistas needed dat spice, fo' theirs was tha longest one.
"I wish I could, Celly," Luna holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "But I’ve been up all night, n' I simply wouldn’t be up in any condizzle ta attend yo, but it ain't no stoppin cause I be still poppin'. I’d look awful, n' I’d be yawning, and..."
"Okay, aiiight," Celestia holla'd, pouting. "Yo ass know it’s tha only chizzle you’ll have ta peep our niece git hooked up fo' at least a hundred muthafuckin years n' probably more, right?"
"I’m sorry," reiterated Luna, spoonin some salad tha fuck into her grill. "But I fear I’d only put a thugged-out damper on proceedings. Not ta mention I’m shizzle most ponies still harbor fear fo' mah dirty ass."
Celestia’s lips pursed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I wish they’d let Nightmare Moon go. I have."
"Give it time," Luna muttered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "It’s only been two years. Mortals is slow ta forgive n' forget; strange, since they time is so limited."
"Chalk it up ta our experience regardin grudges," Celestia smiled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Well, tha celebration will continue until well afta sunset, so you’re free ta join our asses at any time."
"I shall," Luna holla'd, noddin n' gettin up, stiflin a yawn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "I be thinkin I shall retire at dis point. I forgot how tha fuck tirin it is ta cast spellz of sbustin up all night."
Celestia nodded. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Sleep well, sister."
"See you tonight."
======
They came fo' her while her big-ass booty slept.
Luna slumbered fitfully, roused from chill by a fuckin shitload of clues dat all was not well. For one, dat biiiiatch was over-warm fo' realz. A window was like open, which led neatly ta problem number two, tha sunlight whoopin on her closed eyelids, not suttin' dat would normally happen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Maker knew she loved her sista yo, but Celly could be a pimped out big-ass ounce ta tha bounce of parasprites sometimes wit how tha fuck bright she made tha sun shine. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch often wondered if it was just ta wind her up, a practical joke on a cold-ass lil cosmic scale.
And thirdly, tha step of hooves. Nopony employed by tha Castle was foolish enough ta intrude on tha Princesses’ bedchambers uninvited, much less when they was asleep, n' Celly had mo' betta thangs ta do than rustle Luna’s breakfast cereal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Which meant these intrudaz was not Luna’s loyal subjects, nor her sister, which was tha second guess.
Her eyes snapped open, bloodshot from interrupted chill, n' tha insect-like creature leanin over her let up a lil' small-ass noise of surprise.
With a funky-ass blast of magic, tha creature was flung across tha room at high speed, plowin all up in tha wall up in a cold-ass lil cascade of rubble. Luna sat up, eyes waterin at exposure ta sunlight, n' saw dat her assailant hadn’t been alone; a trio of tha creatures stood nearby, alternatin alarmed looks between tha hole up in tha wall n' they playa under tha rubble, n' Luna her muthafuckin ass. They stepped back, chitterin amongst theyselves as they slowly made they way ta tha door, tryin not ta draw her attention n' failin miserably.
Luna peeped dem go wit a steely eye, before her other eye noticed suttin' lyin up in tha middle of tha floor near where tha creatures had been standing, a thugged-out dear playa whoz ass should not done been lyin there so... broken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch dived forward, leapin ta it’s side, cradlin it up in her hooves.
"Abacus!" Biatch raised tha primitizzle mathematical aid up in her hooves, alarmed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Abacus, drop a rhyme ta me!"
Da abacus did not respond, as inanimate objects is aint gonna ta do, save ta rattle slightly as a funky-ass bead fell off a gangbangin' fucked up strut. Luna closed her eyes, n' reverentially laid tha item down on tha ground, before standin up straight, at her full height fo' realz. A set of sunglasses restin on a peg was enveloped up in a magical glow n' pulled across tha room ta land on her face, allowin her ta open her night-adjusted eyes without pain.
Da creatures saw tha expression on her face, n' knew dat they was up in so much shit, bein buried under half a tonne of rubble was soundin mo' like a infinitely less fucked up option wit every last muthafuckin second dat passed.
Luna gritted her teeth. "Yo ass chizzlelin parasprites is goin ta pay fo' messin up mah abacus."
======
Changelings. Nasty lil creatures.
Luna swung a silver-shod hoof all up in tha air, n' chitin cracked as tha chizzlelin had no chizzle but ta obey tha lawz of physics n' fly up tha window, at speed.
Devious creatures, they fed off emotions pimped up all up in tha pony they was imitating. Ludd was they preferred sustenance, although Luna vaguely recalled they was able ta feed off any sufficiently phat emotion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da only one they couldn’t handle was raw hatred.
Luna grabbed a gangbangin' fleein chizzlelin by tha neck wit telekinesis, n' used tha chizzlelin like a funky-ass bat ta smash three of his comrades tha fuck into a marble pillar.
It was a bitch ass muthafucka they couldn’t feel tha hatred dat freaky freaky biatch had fo' dem n' aint a thugged-out damn thang dat yo' ass can do fo' realz. Abacus was- had been- a phat mathematical aid, just two minutes from retirement, which was when Luna would finally pick up one of dem new-fangled "calculators". Luna gritted her jaw. When dis was all over, dat freaky freaky biatch had a gangbangin' finger-lickin' hard as fuck letter ta write ta Mrs. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sexton.
Moonlight danced round tha crowded hallway, n' ice encrusted every last muthafuckin thang it touched; mostly chizzlelings. Da frost of tha ccrazy oldschool night up in winter, not suttin' Luna gots ta play wit much outside of tha longest night of tha year, which was a bitch ass muthafucka, cuz tha patterns it formed was so straight-up pretty.
Luna kicked out, n' one of tha chizzlelingsiclez was smashed tha fuck into a mazillion pieces almost as a afterthought, as Luna considered tha thang. Why was they here up in Canterlot of all places, biatch? Biatch looked up tha window, as she flung a hoof out, clotheslinin a cold-ass lil chizzlelin goin tha other way, n' saw dat shit.
Or rather, her dope ass didn’t peep dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shinin Armor’s dome had vanished, n' tha sky was thick wit chitinous invaders. Da answer: Somethang had happened ta Shinin Armor, n' possibly tha weddin itself.
This all ran all up in Luna’s analytical, scientistical mind, which, deep down, was always watching, always thinking. Unfortunately fo' tha chizzlelings, it was stayin deep-down, n' between dat n' tha ghetto at big-ass was a Luna whoz ass was, at best, intolerant of bein woken up early n' at present, wackly distraught all up in tha demise of her abacus.
"WHO WANTS SOME?" Luna boomed, shamelessly rockin tha Royal Canterlot Voice exactly where she’d been holla'd at not ta bust it -- indoors. Da resultin wave of sound blew nuff muthafuckin frozen chizzlelings tha fuck into small, frosty fragments, n' busted others flyin backwardz down tha hallway, clutchin tha sidez of they headz up in agony. Da hallway cleared, Luna cantered at a funky-ass brisk pace down tha hallway, takin care ta step heavily on any chizzlelin dat didn’t look like a pile of fucked up chitin at dis point.
Luna stepped outside, onto a cold-ass lil castle rampart, n' let up a low growl when her big-ass booty saw what tha fuck had happened ta Canterlot. First dat biiiiatch was woken up early, n' then her abacus was broken, and then, just ta add insult ta injury, her lil ponies was up in mortal peril. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch saw clustaz of resinous goop up in tha streets below, n' encased within, ponies strugglin ta escape.
"Nopony threatens mah lil ponies n' gets away wit it!" she growled.
Da soundz of commotion within tha castle gots her attention;; she turned n' saw a pair of larger chizzlelings struttin all up in a thugged-out doorway wit confidence all but oozin outta every last muthafuckin pore; they was bout her size n' thrice as heavy-set props ta chitin dat was thicker than tha average Canterlot noble -- they was insectoid juggernauts.
Luna didn’t give much fo' her chancez of breakin dat heavy shell without help. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch could just freeze her way all up in it n' be efficient; but up in dis biatch, tha irritation of bein woken up early, along wit grief n' takin tha battle on Canterlot as a underground insult, it all formed tha fuck into a single call fo' cathartic, primitive, primal, unyieldin violence.
Luna’s eye spotted a red-trimmed, glass-fronted cabinet on tha wall; a plaque read "Emergency Use Only" (thus meaning, bust it every last muthafuckin day), n' within, a sturdy axe rested on two pegs, never used. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! (Direct violation of plaque instructions.) Luna ran over ta tha cabinet, n' afta a cold-ass lil cursory search fo' a proper way ta open it (which proved fruitless), her big-ass booty simply reared back, n' slammed her forehead tha fuck into tha cabinet.
With a tinkle of glass, Luna ripped tha fire axe free, blood tricklin down her grill as her big-ass booty stared down tha approachin behemoths, twirlin tha axe up in her telekinetic grip.
"Come hither," her big-ass booty holla'd, beckoning. "I’ve gots some thangs ta axe you."
Da Behemoths charged as one, heavy steps causin tha straight-up ground ta shake wit they approach. Luna leapt, twirled, n' swung her axe up in a vicious uppercut.
With a cold-ass lil crash, one of tha behemoths was brought ta a terrifyingly abrupt halt,chin risin tha fuck into tha air n' even movin backwardz wit tha force of tha impact. Da axe done cooked up a funky-ass bangin metallic clang, n' tha wood fragments flew all up in tha air as tha axe itself blew up like a muthafucka, tha head reduced ta a vaguely axe-shaped lump of steel.
Luna regarded tha fucked up tool wit contempt. "Shoddy modern tools..."
Da chizzlelin she’d backflipped wit tha axe wasn’t straight-up up in a cold-ass lil condizzle ta regard anything, much less wit contempt, since tha impact had done a solid thang of rattlin whatever it had fo' a funky-ass dome. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da behemoth landed on it’s back wit a whud, n' Luna cast aside tha axe-handle irritably.
Then dat biiiiatch was hit by a gangbangin' freight train up in tha form of a gangbangin' four-legged chizzlelin behemoth, tha one dat dat freaky freaky biatch hadn’t knocked up cold. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da beast carried her across tha room, n' without pausin ta slow down, all up in tha wall wit a cold-ass lil crash of masonry n' stone.
It didn’t stop, carryin her all up in wall afta wall, even as Luna swore n' pounded on tha creature’s back n' spine wit a hoof. It took a extended period where Luna was not bein used as a funky-ass batterin ram fo' tha bizzatch ta git free n' escape her place on tha front of tha behemoth.
Bitch landed on tha carpet runner wit a on tha down-low impact, n' looked around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Next ta tha wall, a gangbangin' familiar shape rested -- one of Pinkie Pie’s jam cannons. Luna picked it up, n' afta a moment’s thought, emptied up tha party-specific payload, replacin it wit magically-sifted lumpz of stone n' rubble.
Bitch felt tha tremorz of tha approachin Behemoth, n' spun around, droppin tha fuck into her back n' kickin up as she fired tha cannon.
With a funky-ass bangin BLAM, stone n' rubble became shrapnel, n' tha behemoth’s head blew up like a muthafucka, tha rest of tha corpse completin it’s forced aerial arc ta land on it’s ragged stump of a neck before rollin ta a halt. Luna, covered up in blood, gots up n' discarded tha dropped charge, levitatin a funky-ass belt of jam cannon charges over her shoulder n' round her neck as she reloaded her improvised weapon.
Bitch sensed shit, n' still shovin debris down tha barrel, turned round ta peep a trio of behemoths, none of dem lookin terribly impressed wit her antics thus far.
"It be time fo' me ta kick flank n' masticate rubbery gum candy," Luna holla'd coldly, adjustin her sunglasses ta sit mo' betta on her grill as dat biiiiatch wiped some gore off tha lens. "And Pinkie Pie hath beaten me ta tha gum."
======
Da doors ta tha throne room flew open, n' what tha fuck was left of a funky-ass behemoth landed on tha carpet, ta muffled criez of horror. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Peepin it was a thugged-out depleted, tokin jam cannon, n' one rather upset night bizzatch.
Luna looked upwards, n' saw weddin guests suspended up in cocoons or stuck ta tha ceilin by adhesive resin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch noted nuff muthafuckin rather thugged-out stallions among dem n' sighed wistfully.
"Why is it always tha bangin' ones?"
"Supa-Hoe Luna," a funky-ass buzzin voice hailed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "So phat of y'all ta join our asses fo' tha reception!"
Luna looked ta tha altar; above tha altar, Celestia had been suspended up in a cold-ass lil cocoon of her own, unconscious n' upside-down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Where her sista would have stood durin tha ceremony, a twisted, black creature stood up in a mockery of a weddin ceremony, tha couple-to-be bound by resin ta tha floor at her sides.
"I be Biatch Chrysalis," tha Chizzlelin Biatch declared. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I’ll cut ta tha chase. Canterlot is now mine, n' it’s only a matter of time before I have all of Equestria. I have absorbed enough ludd ta overpower even Celestia, n' tha elementz of harmony aren’t goin ta be able ta stop mah dirty ass. Da dizzle is goin exactly accordin ta plan, n' it’s every last muthafuckin thang I’ve eva wanted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shizzle happens all tha time. What bout yo slick ass?"
"I’ve lost a thugged-out dear playa," Luna holla'd flatly. "I’ve been woken up early. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah subjects is up in danger. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah sista has been sucka-punched by you n' yours, n' I’ll just assume you’re ta blame fo' ruinin tha weddin as well." Luna pointed a accusatory hoof all up in tha chizzlelin biatch. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "I’m havin a straight-up wack dizzle -- allow me ta show you just how bad."
"I be thinkin not," Chrysalis chuckled darkly, tappin a cold-ass lil chitinous hoof. "Grig. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Step forward."
A lil' small-ass chizzlelin fluttered all up in tha window, n' circlin around, landed up in front of Chrysalis, facin Luna as if da thug was goin ta defend Chrysalis wit his wild lil' freakadelic game.
Luna snorted derisively. "That weak lil thang’s goin ta fight yo' battle fo' you, is he?"
"Don’t be all kindsa hasty," Chrysalis holla'd, "This is mah bodyguard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This," Chrysalis holla'd as a warm glow enveloped her horn n' a lizzle of juice blasted tha fuck into Grig’s back, "is Grig when he’s on one hundred cement, undistilled love."
Luna’s grill was fixed up in a gangbangin' finger-lickin' disbelievin sneer fo' realz. A sneer dat rapidly fell from her grill as Grig bucked n' bulged, chitin tearin as it made way fo' progressively newer, larger layers. Luna’s gaze slowly moved from below her height, ta straight ahead, n' eventually, above her, a shadow bein cast across her n' tha carpet round her, Luna’s sunglass-clad grill reflectin tha hulkin freshly smoked up form of Grig up in front of her, his skin a roilin expanse of jagged n' splintered chitin.
"Oh, hay no."
There was a sweep of a pockmarked hoof, movin far fasta than anythang dat size had a right ta be moving, n' Luna found tha tablez turned, her muthafuckin ass bein tha one thrown all up in tha air, leavin her tiara spinnin up in tha air comically. Luckily fo' her, it was straight over tha edge of tha balcony, wit no glass ta prove a obstacle.
Unluckily fo' her, dat biiiiatch was dazed by tha sledgehammer hit, n' by tha time dat thugged-out biiiatch could peep just one oversized behemoth divin off tha balcony towardz her, dat biiiiatch was far too close ta tha ground ta be glidin outta shit.
Flagstones smashed as Luna wrapped her muthafuckin ass up in otherworldly energies n' reinforced her body ta endure tha impact; ponies nearby dat hadn’t been imprisoned by chizzlelings screamed loudly all up in tha impact, chillaxin a lil when they saw it was just they bumpin', not-evil Supa-Hoe of tha Night n' oh dope Celestia what tha fuck is dat thang landin on top of her-
With a heavy slam of raw mass on cobblestones, Grig landed on top of tha bizzatch, hairy-ass legs splayed up as da thug went fo' a funky-ass bodyslam. Ponies shrieked, n' nuff lost they nerve, fleein tha fuck into tha street where chizzlelings swooped down n' plucked dem up tha fuck into tha air. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Those dat did remain, either outta willpower or blind terror, was able ta bear witnizz ta a rare sight -- suttin' not peeped up in a lil over a thousand muthafuckin years now, nahmeean?
Luna gots mad.
There was a cold-ass lil creak of overloaded chitin, n' Grig’s eyes went wide as his splayed-out posture slowly rose tha fuck into tha air. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Underneath him, Luna stood on her rear legs, forehooves high above her head as one exposed, bloodshot eye glared up tha fuck into space all up in tha fucked up lenz of her sunglasses, as if darin tha universe ta test her temper one mo' time.
With a scream of passion, fury n' grief, dat dunkadelic hoe threw Grig, n' tha oversized chizzlelin flew tha fuck into a storefront, demolishin it almost straight-up, along wit a phat portion of tha second floor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Luna moonwalked back ta all fours, n' swept tha fucked up sunglasses off her grill so Grig could feel the twin barrelz of hatred glarin at his muthafuckin ass.
Da oversized chizzlelin rolled onto his hooves, n' roared, gallopin tha fuck into a cold-ass lil charge. Luna stood her ground, unflinching, until tha last moment, when her big-ass booty spun, n' lashed up wit a kick of tha gods.
Da Equestrian Royal Guard undertook mattaz of underground defense fo' tha Princesses on tha basis dat expectin a bizzatch ta defend her muthafuckin ass simply wasn’t aiiight, even if they was godz n' like capable of dealin wit any mundane n' most supernatural threats ta tha crown. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da truth was, any thug watchin tha bizzatches really go ta hood on anythang just made dem feel inadequate by comparison. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It wasn’t unknown fo' guardsponies ta observe tha juice of tha bizzatches, n' abruptly resign from tha guard up in order ta go on a journey of self-discovery or enlightenment outta sheer emasculation, n' dat was when tha bizzatches weren’t tryin ta utterly decimate tha target.
Da chargin Grig weighed just a lil on tha heavy side -- some three tons, n' he’d managed ta hit a scorchin pace up in his short run-up fo' realz. A lesser pony, even a cold-ass lil certain maxed superhero from Ponyville, would have simply failed ta even phase tha chizzleling, pitched forward n' smoked flagstone before fallin over n' gettin trampled ta dirtnap up in tha grill of Grig’s strength.
Luna managed ta not only stop Grig cold yo, but wit a swift wind-up n' second sharp delivery, served up a second hit dat staggered tha titan-class chizzleling. It stumbled tha fuck into a lamp post, causin tha civic property ta squeal alarmingly as it bent, n' tha chizzlelin used it ta stand up properly, feelin his cheek n' tha twin hoofprints stamped firmly tha fuck into tha chitin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Luna grinned, n' wit shakez of her hooves, dislodged her now-ruined shoes, beckonin Grig forward wit a cold-ass lil come-hither curl of her forehoof.
"Come on, big-ass colt. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Show me thy moves," dat dunkadelic hoe taunted.
Grig growled a gangbangin' feral growl, n' launched his dirty ass forward once more; rather than go fo' a funky-ass blind charge dis time, though, he kept a gangbangin' far slower pace, n' when Luna went fo' a second buck, da perved-out muthafucka slipped ta tha side, ducked under her attack, n' swept under her, swingin upwardz wit a gangbangin' foreleg up in a swift uppercut. There was a whud, n' Luna went flyin tha fuck into tha air, spinnin bout as she flapped her wings, tryin ta right her muthafuckin ass.
She’d barely spun a third, eye-waterin revolution when she managed ta stop it, goin from a spinning, uncontrolled rise tha fuck into a sharp, pimped up drop, rear hooves outstretched fo' a gangbangin' flyin kick. Grig’s hoof flicked up like a rattlesnake, n' quick as lightning, swung her groundwardz like a gangbangin' flail.
Luna hit tha cobblestones once mo' wit a smash, n' Grig didn’t stop there, brangin Luna back ta his other side ta slam tha fuck into tha cobblestones again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da display of juice n' aggression didn’t stop until Grig was standin up in between two vaguely equine-shaped craters. Da dust slowly cleared, n' Grig puffed heavily wit tha effort -- bein big-ass wasn’t easy as fuck yo, but it had helped todizzle. It make me wanna hollar playa! He’d be surprised if tha pony bizzatch was anythang mo' than a gangbangin' fleshy, bruised sack of fucked up cal-
A midnight-blue hoof reached around, n' twisted tha fuck into a gangbangin' firm grip, makin bust of Grig’s hole-riddled hairy-ass legs fo' a funky-ass mo' betta hold. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Luna grinned at Grig from tha end of tha grippin leg, spittin teeth.
"I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah turn."
Grig’s eyes went wide as da thug was lifted off tha ground, n' wit a thugged-out deep cry of terror, da thug was subjected ta tha same treatment dat he’d just taken pride up in givin ta Luna. Da impacts on tha ground was like tha hoofstompz of tha gods, tha ground bobbin n' judderin wit each impact, as Luna used Grig as a livin hammer ta hit nails dat didn’t exist. Ponies n' now chizzlelings alike winced as Luna brutalized tha bigger creature, n' breathed a cold-ass lil collectizzle bust a funky-ass big-ass fart of relief when she finally gots bugged out wit dat shit.
Grig wasn’t up in a cold-ass lil condizzle ta hold much of a opinion of anything, eyes addled n' grill missin mo' than a gangbangin' few fangs, his chitin fucked up clean all up in in places, exposin slightly translucent, somewhat pink flesh.
And still, Luna was not done, liftin tha chizzlelin titan up n' balancin his ass on his hairy-ass legs unsteadily. Grig cooperated, a funky-ass bit of a mistake when he realized Luna was rearin back, brandishin her forehooves.
With a cold-ass lil crushingly fucked up seriez of strikes, Luna demonstrated tha legit art dat was hoof-to-hoof combat, a endless stream of straight muthafuckin rights n' left hooks servin as a example of form up in tha noble, centuries-old sport. Grig stumbled backwards, his wild lil' grill cracking, splinterin n' bleedin as it was pummeled tha fuck into a cold-ass lil chitinous pancake.
Eventually, tha punch-drunk Grig realized da thug wasn’t bein hit any more, n' that’s cuz Luna, up in her eternal grace, had her hooves up in tha air, slowly turnin round n' shoutin her superioritizzle int othe air as tha growin crowd fuckin started ta roar up in anticipation -- even tha chizzlelings was excited, forgoin care fo' they comrade up in favor of tha excitement of a good, old-fashioned beat-down.
Grig coughed up a gangbangin' few mo' fangs as Luna stopped showboating, n' gripped his ass firmly by tha shoulders, n' spun his ass around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! His eyes went wide as da thug was pulled onto his hind legs, n' gripped firmly bout tha midsection by two hooves dat was so tight, da ruffneck didn’t gotz a cold-ass lil chizzle of escaping.
With a roar of fury, Luna lifted, n' arched her back, throwin her muthafuckin ass backwardz wit all her might. Grig had lil option but ta follow, a trail of spittle markin his crescent path all up in tha air, before Luna’s back became a slick arch, n' Grig was exposed ta dat most iconic of wrestlin maneuvers: Da Germane Suplex.
His head n' shouldaz hit tha ground hard, n' tha crew could hear tha crumplin of chitin against tha forces bein put ta work. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Stone splintered, n' Grig gasped up in pain as his neck was forced tha fuck into his shouldaz by tha juice of tha blow fo' realz. And it was here dat Luna finally let go, leavin Grig free ta do what tha fuck all squishy thangs did when hittin tha ground dat hard.
Dude bounced, skippin across tha devastated street like a cold-ass lil cast pebble, eventually slidin ta a halt against tha other side of tha street. Luna straightened, n' posed once mo' fo' tha crowd, showin off her bicep.
"I still gots it," her dope ass declared, fond memoriez of a physical beef wit tha Dragon Lord of tha Ruby Expanse some thousand-plus muthafuckin years ago hustlin all up in her mind, even as dat freaky freaky biatch hooked a hoof tha fuck into tha fucked up chitin of Grig’s chest.
Da Chizzlelin Titan groaned as da thug was hoisted tha fuck into tha air again, his head brought level wit Luna’s face.
"Don’t eva let me catch you up in mah Equestria again," she growled.
Grig just nodded weakly, before dribblin some mo' blood n' passin out. Luna dropped tha body without ceremony, n' turned ta grill tha chizzlelings, whoz ass suddenly thought of mo' betta places ta be, fleein tha fuck into tha air before they could be made a example of.
Luna nodded up in satisfaction, before tha ground was shaken by a second tremor, dis time tha air fillin wit a rosy glow of power.
"Cadance," Luna muttered, before she felt a stiff wind bein driven past her muthafuckin ass fo' realz. Above her, her big-ass booty saw chizzlelings flyin all up in tha air by tha hundreds, chizzle among dem a larger, lankier changling. Luna took tha opportunitizzle ta show tha airborne Chrysalis tha back of her hoof, before a wave of pink light washed over her muthafuckin ass.
Da ambient juice was stunnin -- bangin enough ta just pick up n' throw chizzlelings like they was ragdolls yo, but controlled enough ta be discreet n' only pick up n' throw chizzlelings. Powerful enough dat it bled enough magical juice ta make simply passin all up in tha barrier was like a week all up in tha spa, n' discriminatin enough ta only give dat juice ta ponies n' not chizzlelings.
Da wave passed on, n' Luna peeped tha dome race up ta tha limitz of Canterlot n' stop, fadin tha fuck into a gentle mist of light.
"That’s love, baby," she muttered, before pickin up what tha fuck was left of her shoes, n' wit a funky-ass beat of her wings, liftin off tha fuck into tha air.
======
By tha time tha sun had set, Canterlot had chizzled drastically. Da remainz of tha failed invasion had been swept under tha hood’s collectizzle rug, ta be dealt wit another day, tha weddin had been done once mo' (properly, dis time) n' Luna had woken up wit a hangover, a empty forty of cider restin up in tha crook of her leg, teethang pains where freshly smoked up teeth had grown ta replace lost ones, n' four dented n' scuffed platinum horseshoes scattered across tha midnight carpet of her room.
And up in tha corner, a white cloth covered what tha fuck had once been a noble, calculatin abacus. Luna regarded it solemnly, before thumpin a hoof ta her chest n' bustin a lil' small-ass salute, before focusin her attention on tha mare up in tha mirror.
Her exploits earlier up in tha dizzle was a hazy blur, adrenaline n' rage obfuscatin tha detailz of her rampage. Oh, Faust. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. She’d lost her temper, n' afta all dat progress wit tha psychiatrist...
What if I just pretended it never happened, she mused as dat thugged-out biiiatch combed up her mane n' set tha moon on a upwardz arc almost absent-mindedly fo' realz. As fuzzy as her memories were, her dope ass didn’t be thinkin anypony straight-up saw her.
Which is good, she decided, as she fished a gangbangin' fresh set of regalia outta her wardrobe. There was a list of thangs she needed, n' "psychiatrist on her case" was not one of em fo' realz. All dat freaky freaky biatch had ta do was play it cool, pretend dat she’d been asleep tha whole time, n' it’d all go on tha fuckin' down-lowly.
Bitch could always blame what tha fuck was left of tha chizzlelingsiclez on somepony up in tha guard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch wasn’t tha only pony dat could freeze thangs solid, right, biatch? Yeah, dat sounded like a plan.
Bitch strutted over ta her balcony, n' looked down all up in tha jam goin on up in tha palace gardens, n' flarin her wings, swooped down ta join em.
Just play it cool, Luna fo' realz. Act natural, act natural...
Bitch touched down next ta Celestia n' Twilight n' playas, n' flashed dem a (thankfully intact) smile.
"Yo muthafucka, everypony. Did I miss anything?"
