Ben 10 is the creative property of MoA, not I. Something wholly unexpected happened around early 2015, that being the source of 99% my parodies finally getting banned after around 5 years of tormenting this website and harassing innocent authors she was so violently jealous of. Somewhat of a shock. Here's a large chunk of unpublished work before I retired which I said I'd stick into a collection when and if I ever posted it. This amusingly terrible 34 year old woman who gets off to sexually humiliating and torturing fictional men, women, children, and animals disturbs me on a visceral level to this day. If I never have to read the words "baby" or "sobbing" or "kissed" and "underwear" and "chocolate cake" again, it'd be too soon. Let the repressing of infernal memories commence.
Nigh-Invulnerable D'Void Won't Stop Dying
By: I'm Not Wearing Any Pants
He's just dying for the attention. Literally.
I don't own any Ben 10 characters, nor do I claim.
D'Void pranced around alongside his Null Guardians as he wandered aimlessly in the Null Void, having no particular purpose other than to appear ultra kawaii with his beloved pet Nulls, who he is not controlling by force against their will as his definitive canon characterization cements to the people who actually watch Ben 10. No sirree Bob, hopefully we've established this within the 9,000 similar tales attempting to reinforce this illogical headcanon.
Fanon? No, canon, bitches. Jim Krieg told me so on Twitter.
Otherwise I as a pretend fan of the Ben 10 franchise would not claim to enjoy this character who I merely learned of 7 years after his established existence during a crossover with another show I used to pretend to like for a single presumably elder male character with long white hair, wouldn't you know, who I projected the same weepy-sobby kawaii uke tragedy death woobie stereotype underwear fetish upon and called it canon as I am doing right now with this similar elder male character with long white hair and I've been otherwise propping myself up as the Biggest Fan to Ever Exist in the same way as all those previous years as I was doing with the last fandom. GASP.
Hope you don't notice this suspicious correlation despite the subtlety being nonexistent.
D'Void cuddle-wuddled his precious Nullie-Wullies, giving them cute scratchies beneath their chins that they don't have. Shut up. It's cute. Cuteness defies all logic. This is all canon, by the way. In my head, cough. Krieg was trying to get rid of me from stalking him by telling me presumably what I wanted to hear, but damn if I can see anything outside my own insane delusions. I will assert it to the rest of the fandom anyway. Those dimwitted, talentless plebes. Everything I make up based on my outlandish self-insertion based anime masturbation fantasies is canon now. Because it fucking is!
When suddenly...gasp...the Helpers attacked!
Oh the repetitive convenience of it.
"Stupid recycled line of dialogue I always speak," Manny shouted. He raised three of his guns in preparation to do harm to the poor innocent tyrant and family. "Your laughable weeaboo delusion self-insertion happy family won't save you when they're filled with holes, D'Void!"
Pierce walked forward. He stumbled upon a rock, tripping and face-planting. It was more dignified than the lines of dialogue the original author forcefully crammed into his mouth.
"Pew pew pew pew!" Helen imitated weapons firing. "I shot you, D'Void. Now fall down." She lowered her hand guns. Which literally were her own hands that she was making pretend guns out of.
D'Void stared at her. "No," he said.
Helen looked scandalized. Her mouth dropped open. Her tiny female brain erupted into massive confusion. "D'Void, you're not playing by the rules."
"No duh." D'Void snapped his fingers. The Null Guardians went snarling after the Helpers while they screamed and scattered.
"FUCK YOU, D'VOID," Manny shouted as he and the others vanished conveniently off screen and out of the plot until their presence was required again.
"I love being an nigh-invulnerable tyrant," D'Void said. He smiled with all the malevolence he could muster. It was a lot. "And I love this sky. It's red, like blood. Also sometimes pink or purple and splotched with white. Like a background painting."
He sat down and waited for his cutie patootie pets to return home to him. He waited and waited. Then he waited some more. He fell asleep. He woke up and wiped drool from the corner of his mouth.
"Where are those fat lazy bitches?" he grunted. "They better not have deserted me."
He folded upon himself after being hit by a wave of intense fragile emotional vulnerability that testosterone poisoned males such as himself often experience. It hurt so good. It gave him a shamefully fearful boner.
"I'm so alone. I can't be alone," he whispered. "I have too many Cluster B personality disorders that require constant validation of my self-worth for me to function. Curse my crippling low self-esteem that I obviously have in canon and no adult woman of severely low creative skill but gigantic ego is projecting upon me. Along with my several dozen stereotypical female mannerisms that I somehow attained after this 30 something year old virgin hardcore Japan apologist weeaboo with a bunch of extremely narrow interest sexual fetishes started shipping my hair with her hands. Again, no correlation. Hope my obnoxious and disgusting inhuman Mary Sue baby who is in no way the original author's obvious and terrible self-insert shows up and makes out with me again before dying in a hilariously stupid way."
The Helpers were required once again by the plot and poofed into existence in front of D'Void. He yelped while clutching his chest.
"How do you assholes keep doing that?"
"We'll never tell you, D'Void. And we'll never tell you the location of The Wrench either," Manny said.
"I didn't ask that," said D'Void.
"Yeah, well, I don't care," Manny retorted. "I told you anyway. I gave you unsolicited information against your will." He made an intimidating motion with his body and raised his hands full of guns. "So there, unh! You like that? Huh? YOU LIKE THAT, BITCH?" He began to pelvic thrust as a means to indicate his greater alpha dominance over his emotionally fragile enemy. "Yeah, I thought so. Take it, unnn, TAKE IT, BITCH!"
D'Void just sneered like a mean girl while shaking his head at the display of posturing machismo. Secretly, he was a little wet. He lifted his cape and fluttered it about as he sashayed in defiance.
"Pew pew, D'Void," Helen said angrily. This time she fired off actual rounds from some guns that struck her enemy in the leg.
D'Void yelled as he went down on one knee. "OW, WHAT THE FUCK? YOU SHOT ME!" He observed the scorching holes in his pant leg. He gasped. "Hey wait, how am I hurt? I'm supposed to be nigh-invulnerable! Damn these fickle plots. Good thing Ben Tennyson isn't here. He would exploit the hell out of that."
In an instant, D'Void was too busy obsessing about his adorable family of kissing Null Guardians thanks to intrusive thoughts. He tried to hide his shameful blossoming boner from onlookers. He blushed and bit his lip.
"Now you're going to jail, D'Void," Helen said. "You big fat jerk."
"I'm not fat," D'Void wailed. "I'm large boned!" He pointed behind them at a distance. "Oh, goodness, me. Look over there, a distraction!"
The idiots all looked behind them, leaving D'Void enough time to get out of there on his wounded leg. Don't ask how. Realism is whatever I assert it is in my own warped little mind. Long as it moves the plot from Point A over to Point B and ends in hysterical sobbing.
"Suckers," he said while running until he tripped and landed on a boulder. The Helpers disappeared again for the sake of the contrived plot and were no longer a threat. He was somehow gravely wounded anyway. "Aw, fucknuts. I think I'm dying from this minor leg wound."
D'Void began to sob with an endless torrent of self-pity surging through his body. His boner was half chub. The shamefulness of it made him red as a tomato. Kawaii, desu ne.
"This story sucks."
Then he died.
Alone and afraid, and with shit in his pants. That happens after you die. Look it up. It's biology, folks.
The End
