The Goliath Tank rumbled to a halt at the entrance of the grand Canterlot castle, its imposing silhouette casting a long shadow across the cobblestone. The shimmering spires of the castle glinted in the sunlight, offering a deceptive sense of calm. But everyone knew this was merely the calm before the storm.
As the Gutsypod hissed open, Jeremy stepped out, followed by an army of robots marching in sync. Each Mr. Gutsy and their mechanical companions had solar energy-gathering meshes atop their heads, barely visible unless one looked closely.
“Celestia,” Jeremy called, gesturing toward one of the robots. “Meet your sergeant: Sergeant Cavendish.” The robot stood tall, its optical sensors scanning the surroundings with an eerie precision.
Celestia looked at Cavendish with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Uh… hello? What exactly is his function?”
Jeremy chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension. “Well, they’re usually programmed to handle threats from places like communist China, but I’ve tweaked their programming for the Dominion. Just a heads-up, though: Cavendish might get a little overzealous and start accusing random ponies of being Dominion sympathizers. If that happens, you’ll need to step in before he goes rogue.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow, eyeing Cavendish, who was now performing an exaggerated search pattern and muttering about “suspects.” “Right… I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, still feeling a bit unsettled.
Jeremy then turned to Luna, pointing at another Mr. Gutsy. “And this is your sergeant: Sergeant Killington. He follows orders to the letter, so be cautious.”
Just then, Jeremy noticed Sergeant Houston harassing one of the castle guards, its mechanical arms flailing animatedly. “Sergeant Houston! Get over here and leave the guards alone!” Jeremy shouted, his voice stern. “If you attack them again, you’ll be demoted to private! Do you understand me?”
Houston froze, recalibrating itself before turning toward Jeremy. “Affirmative, Commander Jeremy! No aggression toward non-Dominion personnel
“Jeremy, Zack, you can keep Houston in line,” Jeremy instructed, gesturing toward the rowdy robot. He turned to see another Mr. Gutsy bullying a Mr. Handy nearby.
“Rose,” he called out, “Sergeant Yeager! Stop bullying your counterpart. He’s not in your group.”
The Mr. Handy, looking flustered, tried to keep its composure while Yeager chuckled menacingly. “I’m just having a little fun!”
“Not on my watch!” Rose shot back. “The Mr. Handies are here to help out around the castle.”
With the tension diffused, Jeremy addressed the staff members milling about nervously. “We need to send all the castle staff home. It’s not safe here.”
Celestia, her helmet from the Iron Horse armor retracted, stepped forward. “Castle staff, hear my warning. You must leave at once. We cannot guarantee your safety if you remain.”
A chef raised his hand hesitantly. “But I have nowhere to go!”
Another chef chimed in, “Come on, man! You can stay with me until this blows over!”
Despite their protests, Celestia’s resolve was firm. The staff began to gather their belongings, some reluctantly leaving, while others found comfort in the solidarity of their fellow chefs.
As they departed, the Mr. Handies got to work, dutifully helping to tidy up the castle, packing away unnecessary items, and fortifying the defenses as much as possible. The atmosphere grew heavy with the weight of impending danger, but also with a sense of camaraderie as they prepared for the challenges ahead.
“We need to make sure everyone knows their roles,” Jeremy said, looking at the gathered robots and allies. “Once the Dominion arrives, we’ll need to fight smart.”
“I’ll make sure my robots are ready,” Zack replied, a determined look in his eyes.
With their preparations underway, everyone felt the tension in the air, knowing that they were on the brink of a battle that would determine the fate of Equestria.
Jeremy, Rose, and Zack each felt an odd sensation, a wave of dizziness that made them uneasy. Rose felt it the most, her stomach churning. "I don't feel so good," she murmured, leaning against the side of the tank. Her face paled, her body shaking as if something inside her was struggling to break free.
Suddenly, the uneasy feeling shifted into something powerful. A warm, glowing energy surged through her, and the discomfort melted away. Before anyone could react, a radiant figure appeared beside her, shimmering with vibrant, iridescent colors. The form was sleek, ethereal, and seemed almost alive, its body composed of swirling musical notes and flowing sound waves.
Rose gasped, startled. "W-what is that?"
Jeremy stared at the figure in awe. "Rose... that's your Stand."
The Stand pulsed with energy, its presence amplifying Rose's senses. Though blind, she suddenly became hyper-aware of her surroundings. Sounds painted the world for her in vivid detail. The subtle hum of machinery, the distant conversations of her allies, even the flutter of birds in the Canterlot sky—all became clear as day through the vibrations in the air. Her Stand had given her echolocation, allowing her to "see" through sound.
The Stand's name resonated in Rose's mind as if it had been waiting for this moment: Don't Stop Believin'.
It wasn’t just a tool for navigation. She could feel its other powers, the way it could manipulate sound waves to create illusions, deflect attacks, and even influence the emotions of those around her. The music within her Stand could lift the spirits of allies and crush the morale of enemies, depending on the tune.
Zack, watching in amazement, muttered, "A Stand... incredible."
Rose stood tall, her newfound strength and awareness filling her with confidence. "I guess we're all standing up for this fight now."
Jeremy had been watching Rose’s transformation with awe, but as her Stand, Don’t Stop Believin’, fully materialized, a strange sensation began to settle in his own chest. It was as if something deep inside was stirring, trying to claw its way out. His head started to pound, and his vision blurred slightly. He clutched his stomach, feeling light-headed.
"Ugh… what’s happening?" Jeremy groaned, bracing himself against the side of the Goliath tank.
Just as suddenly as it began, the discomfort vanished, replaced by an overwhelming surge of power. His body tingled with energy, and before he knew it, a powerful figure began to materialize beside him. Standing there, as if born from his very essence, was a massive wolf-like creature, its fur shimmering with a metallic sheen. The wolf’s eyes glowed with a deep intelligence, and its body was covered in armor that seemed to pulse with latent energy. Its presence was both regal and dangerous.
Jeremy’s eyes widened. "No way… is that my Stand?"
The name echoed in his mind like a familiar melody—Wayward Son.
The armored wolf stood tall and proud, its posture calm and collected. Its form seemed to emanate Jeremy’s sense of justice, loyalty, and protectiveness. Yet, Jeremy could feel there was more to this Stand than its current form suggested. As if in response to his thoughts, Wayward Son suddenly shifted. Its muscles bulged, its fur bristled, and in an instant, the wolf transformed into a hulking werewolf-like creature, standing on two legs, now ready for combat. This form was far more aggressive and powerful, brimming with untapped strength.
Jeremy could sense the Stand’s duality. Out of combat, Wayward Son would remain a calm and composed wolf, ever-watchful, guarding him and his allies. But in battle, it would transform into the terrifying werewolf, an embodiment of raw power and ferocity. Yet despite its primal nature, Wayward Son held to Jeremy’s values—never crossing the line, never suggesting any action that would betray his beliefs.
"Three hours of combat time," Jeremy muttered to himself, as if instinctively knowing the limits of his Stand’s power. He glanced at Rose and Zack, a newfound determination burning in his eyes. "This Stand cares only for the lives of our allies. It’ll show no mercy to the soulless soldiers of the Dominion."
Wayward Son let out a low, rumbling growl, its armored form gleaming in the light. It was ready for whatever fight lay ahead. And so was Jeremy.
Zack watched in awe as Jeremy’s Stand, Wayward Son, shifted between its forms, the power emanating from it undeniable. He scratched his head, trying to process everything that was happening. First Rose, now Jeremy—both of his friends had manifested these incredible, otherworldly beings. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but his stomach began to churn, and an uneasy feeling swept over him.
"Uh, guys… I’m not feeling so hot either," Zack muttered, clutching his gut. The sensation grew stronger, almost like his insides were turning in on themselves, but then—just as quickly as it started—the feeling faded.
A strange energy swirled around Zack, and before he could react, a figure appeared in front of him. Unlike the sleek, shimmering form of Rose’s Stand or the fearsome wolf that Jeremy had, this one was different. Standing tall with a sly, playful grin was a humanoid figure that looked as though it had stepped right out of a comic strip. Its clothes were eccentric and colorful, a mix of old-timey inventor’s garb and the exaggerated style of a cartoon character. In its hand was a large paintbrush, dripping with vibrant paint that seemed to shift between hues at will.
Zack blinked. "What… what the heck is this?"
The figure twirled its paintbrush effortlessly, tapping it against the ground. Where it struck, the earth rippled like water, colors swirling and blending as if reality itself had become a canvas. With a flourish, it painted a tunnel on the nearest wall—one that shouldn’t have been there. Then, with a casual stride, the Stand walked right through it, disappearing into the wall for a moment before re-emerging with a mischievous grin.
Zack’s eyes widened. "No way… it’s like something out of a cartoon!"
The Stand's name resonated in Zack’s mind—Da Vinci’s Notebook.
Abilities began to flood Zack’s thoughts, and he could hardly believe what he was hearing. Da Vinci’s Notebook had the ability to manipulate reality like a cartoon, bending the laws of physics in absurd and unpredictable ways. It could paint objects into existence, create impossible spaces, and even alter the properties of enemy weapons with a mere stroke of its brush.
As if to demonstrate, Da Vinci’s Notebook pointed its paintbrush at one of the Dominion soldiers’ dropped phasers. With a quick flick, the weapon sagged, melting like wax, and in a deep, sad voice reminiscent of Droopy Dog, the phaser grumbled, "I’m happy…" before flopping to the ground, completely unusable.
Zack couldn’t help but laugh. "This is nuts!"
The Stand wasn’t finished yet. Seeing the Dominion soldiers panic as their weapons failed, Da Vinci’s Notebook painted a small green figure on the ground—one that began to inflate, growing into a perfect replica of a Minecraft creeper. The soldiers barely had time to react before the creeper let out its telltale hiss and exploded, sending them flying.
Zack grinned from ear to ear. "Oh man, this is perfect!"
But there was more. If an enemy soldier tried to use one of the melted weapons as a club, the gun would protest loudly, shouting, "Violence! Violence, I say!" before wriggling free from the soldier’s hands, morphing into another creeper, and blowing them sky-high.
Zack shook his head, still in disbelief. His Stand, Da Vinci’s Notebook, wasn’t just powerful—it was chaos incarnate. But it was also playful, whimsical, and entirely his style.
"Alright," Zack said, clapping his hands together. "Looks like we’ve got ourselves a stand-up fight! Time to get creative!"
Wayward Son growled lowly, sniffing at the air as he circled the Dominion soldiers and their Vorta overlord. Jeremy stood nearby, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. His eyes locked onto the Vorta, who stood trembling, a nervous wreck in the face of what had just happened. Without the presence of their Jem'Hadar soldiers, the Vorta seemed defenseless, a stark contrast to the usually arrogant demeanor they carried.
Jeremy stepped forward, grabbing the Vorta by the scruff of his collar and lifting him off the ground. He stared him dead in the eye. "Your ships haven't arrived. So how the hell are you here?" Jeremy demanded, his voice low but brimming with controlled rage.
The Vorta stammered, his fear palpable. "They... they left us... they forgot about us..." He glanced over at the fallen Jem'Hadar soldiers, their faces twisted in pain, their addiction to Ketracel-white now their undoing. "These men... they’re furious because they didn't leave me with any white to give them for their weekly dosage. I'm powerless here."
Jeremy scoffed, his grip tightening around the Vorta's neck. "Now, that's just too fucking bad, isn't it? Boo-fucking-hoo." With an effortless motion, Jeremy hurled the Vorta into the grill of the massive Goliath tank behind him. The impact sent the Vorta sprawling to the ground, dazed and humiliated.
He walked over, looming above the Vorta like a shadow. "Your men are dead. What are you gonna do now, huh? Your precious Founders have forsaken you, left you to rot in the dirt like the expendable trash you are. And you—" Jeremy sneered, his eyes narrowing. "You deserve every bit of it. Fighting for them... how pathetic."
The Vorta, in a last-ditch effort to maintain some semblance of authority, raised his hand and swung it toward Jeremy’s face. But Jeremy caught the Vorta's wrist mid-air with lightning speed, the sound of bones cracking echoing through the battlefield as he twisted the arm mercilessly.
"That was a mistake," Jeremy said coldly, watching as the Vorta cried out in pain, his arm hanging limp and broken. "I'll show you what happens when you try to hit someone, you pathetic excuse for an officer." He glanced down at the Vorta, disgust etched on his face. "You're so weak, a newborn pony could take you. Hell, Pinkie Pie's pet crocodile, Gummy, could beat you in a fight. What a joke. God, what a panty load."
Jeremy let go of the Vorta’s arm, letting him slump against the tank, utterly defeated. Wayward Son stood by his side, watching closely, the wolf's eyes glowing with anticipation, as if waiting for Jeremy’s command.
Jeremy shook his head and muttered, “You’re done. Just stay down, and maybe you’ll live to see tomorrow—if your Founders even care enough to come back for you.”
“Jeremy, Celestia,” he said, his voice low and intense, “enter my mind. Let me show you what these fucktards are capable of if given the chance.”
As they focused, Jeremy began to project his thoughts, images flooding their minds. Death camps—the infamous facilities used by the Dominion to hold prisoners, where the weak were broken down to serve the stronger. These camps were places of horror, where lives were snuffed out to fuel the enhancement of Jem’Hadar soldiers. The captives were subjected to brutal experiments and forced labor, their suffering used to create a more efficient, ruthless breed of warrior.
Jeremy's mind shifted to soulless soldiers, the Jem’Hadar, bred for war and utterly dependent on their masters. These genetically engineered warriors were stripped of individuality, loyalty, and compassion, existing only to serve the will of their Vorta overlords.
“They use Ketracel White to control the Jem’Hadar,” Jeremy explained, anger seeping into his voice. “Every week, the Vorta force these soldiers to swear fealty in exchange for their precious white. If they don’t, they don’t eat. They literally starve without it. It’s a brutal game of manipulation and fear, keeping them in line through hunger and desperation.”
The images showed the stark reality of the Dominion’s hierarchy, emphasizing how the Vorta lorded over their subservient soldiers with absolute authority. “These people make the Borg look like Mr. Rogers. The Borg might assimilate you, but at least they don’t force you to swear your life to them every week. At least they don’t starve you if you disobey. The Dominion thrives on cruelty and control.”
The images in his mind turned dark, depicting Jem’Hadar battalions marching relentlessly, faces blank and devoid of hope. He showed them the fear that gripped the soldiers when faced with the wrath of their Vorta commanders. “This is the kind of threat we’re dealing with. They don’t just conquer—they destroy lives, crush spirits, and extinguish hope. If we give them an opening, they’ll do it again, just like they did before.”
Celestia winced as the weight of Jeremy's memories settled over her. She could feel the depth of his rage and the pain of countless lives lost. “Jeremy…” she murmured, her heart heavy with empathy.
“No,” he interrupted, his resolve hardening. “This isn’t about pity. It’s about survival. We can’t underestimate them. We can’t show weakness. They’ll exploit it. We have to be ready to fight back, and we have to make sure they know we won’t let them take anything from you ever again.”
“Jeremy, do you remember the Klingon you met at Deep Space Nine?” he began, his voice steady but charged with intensity. “He would agree with me. He’d be the first to tell you that the Dominion are not to be underestimated. They forced him to fight tirelessly for hours on end, pushing him to his limits until he, Garak, and Dr. Bashir managed to escape. His experiences, alongside the leader of the Klingon High Council, revealed the depths of their cruelty.”
His expression darkened, reflecting the seriousness of the situation. “I won’t allow them the chance to turn your world into a place of suffering and despair.”
Celestia listened intently, concern etched on her face. “But friendship can triumph, can’t it?”
Jeremy shook his head, frustration creeping into his voice. “I know you’ve always believed that, but if you extend the hand of friendship to them, they’ll only take advantage of it. These beings are engineered for battle, with each generation of Jem’Hadar warriors designed to be increasingly relentless. They are trained to fight, to conquer, and to extinguish any glimmer of hope. Compassion and empathy are foreign concepts to them.”
Celestia frowned, trying to process the harsh reality he was presenting. “So they lack any emotions?”
“Precisely,” Jeremy replied, his tone grave. “They make even the most callous beings seem approachable by comparison. They’re created to be tireless soldiers, with no feelings to hold them back. If you can’t meet their demands, they’ll eliminate those you care about, and then they’ll come for you. It’s a ruthless pursuit of power, and they always play to win.”
The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder that the adversary they faced was unlike anything they had encountered before.
Here's a revised version of your scene that maintains the intensity and message while adhering to guidelines:
“Celestia, I know I’m coming across as harsh,” Jeremy said, his tone softening slightly. “But I can’t bear the thought of Equestria suffering the same fate as so many other worlds. Take Cardassia, for instance. They tried to collaborate with the Dominion, believing they could ally with them against the Federation. But then, just like that, they found themselves surrounded—Gem’Hadar soldiers on every street corner, and a blockade sealing off their home.”
Celestia’s eyes widened, concern etched on her face. “What happened if someone broke the rules?”
Jeremy’s anger flared again. “If you were late for curfew, there were no warnings, no second chances. It was instant death by phaser fire. And yes, that included children.”
“Even children?” Celestia gasped, her heart sinking.
“Yes,” Jeremy replied, his voice heavy with emotion. “They don’t care who you are. If you defy their rules, you’re dead, no questions asked. And if you were royalty? You’d likely spend your life as a prisoner, forced to mine hazardous ore that would eventually kill you. They’d make you work twenty-hour shifts, barely allowing you four hours of sleep, if that.”
He looked at her, his expression grave. “They would destroy everything—your castle, the sacred places where the Elements of Harmony were found. They have no respect for tradition or kindness. All they want is war, to conquer and kill.”
Celestia took a deep breath, trying to process the weight of his words. “I… I understand. I’m sorry for my initial reaction. I always believed…”
Jeremy cut her off gently. “If it were any other group, perhaps they could be reasoned with. The Ferengi might try to exploit you for profit, but most would leave you alone if you paid them enough. The Dominion, however, operates under a different set of rules entirely.”
“They would eliminate anyone connected to the royal family,” Jeremy continued, his voice growing more intense. “Yes, even baby Flurry Heart. They wouldn’t hesitate. Once they gained control, they’d force the ponies to abandon their lives, compelling everyone to assist in the production of a vital substance that keeps the Gem'Hadar loyal.”
Celestia's expression darkened, concern etched on her face. “What substance are you talking about?”
“It’s a resource that ensures the Gem'Hadar remain obedient,” Jeremy explained, his tone grim. “The Dominion would install a Vorta in place of any town mayor to enforce total compliance. They would exploit your world for its magic and resources, treating everything you cherish as mere tools for their agenda.”
He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to settle. “Your land, your people—they’d become pawns in their conquest, stripped of freedom and hope.”
Celestia's anger finally flared, her eyes blazing. “Oh no, they won’t take this world—not on our watch! Those heartless fiends will not prevail. We won’t allow it!”
“Damn, Celestia,” Jeremy said, raising an eyebrow. “You really surprised us with that one.”
Celestia looked taken aback. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, you nailed it!” Jeremy replied with a grin. “But it caught us off guard.”
“When you mentioned they attack children, it made me furious. I almost said something a bit stronger, but I knew that wasn’t the right term,” she admitted, a hint of mischief in her tone.
“Next time, just go with 'a bunch of jerks' if it helps,” Jeremy suggested.
Zack chimed in, “What are you up to, Zack?”
“I’m going to make this Vorta cry like a baby!” Zack declared, determination in his eyes.
Luna grinned. “Yeah! Make that coward cry!”
“Luna!” Celestia exclaimed, but her amusement was evident. “I like that term. Maybe I’ll let a bit of my old self come out for this.”
“Wait, are you bringing back Nightmare Moon for the fight? That’s good!” Jeremy said, excitement growing.
“No, Zack, let me show you how to handle this with humor,” Jeremy said, positioning himself next to the Vorta. He leaned down and gently poked the Vorta’s foot, teasing, “Does that hurt? Say ‘uncle’ if you want it to stop!”
“Let’s wrestle!” Jeremy exclaimed, grabbing the Vorta and securing him in an ankle lock. He then took a horseshoe rasp and playfully scraped it against the Vorta’s barefoot.
“Uncle! Uncle!” the Vorta cried out.
“Not until you say it right!” Jeremy replied with a smirk. “Say, ‘Grandma Moses makes munchy meat most Monday mornings.’”
The Vorta hesitated, clearly flustered. “G-Grandma Moses makes munch munch munchy meat most Monday mornings!” he stammered, struggling to get the words out.
“Good enough!” Jeremy said with a laugh, releasing him from the hold.32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYzgjZvXhIw
Zack chimed in, “Jeremy, you totally ripped that off from the cartoon Freakazoid! Cheater!”
Jeremy shrugged, a grin on his face. “Hey, I never said it was original! I just said it was funny.”
Celestia nodded in agreement. “He has a point, Zack. Besides, it’s a classic.”
Rose, confused, asked, “What are you all talking about? What’s Freakazoid?”
Zack stared at her in disbelief. “Rose, you mean to tell me you’ve been alive for 2,158 years and have never watched Freakazoid?”
“Zack, I’m going to jack you up!” Rose retorted, playfully glaring at him.
ns 15.158.61.55da2
