I don't own any Ben 10 characters, nor do I claim. It's not about the characters, nor the canon, nor devotion, nor appreciation, nor love. It's about the hideously awful "original characters" who are anything but original, the absurd and often hilarious porn scenes, the creepy often disturbing fetishes, and downright masturbatory levels of author narcissism. And that's about it. The 1% will toss a hidden gem or parody out every now and then. Enjoy it like an occasional healthy fat while you choke on the endless carcinogens of the remaining 99% of writing fandom.
Helen and Manny wandered aimlessly in D'Void's citadel.
"How did we get in here, Manny?" Helen wondered. "How did we get past all the Null Guardians and D'Void himself?"
"I don't know," said Manny. "Maybe because nobody's in character and nothing make sense? We're just here to say the same shit over and over and further the Sue based plot. That's all we ever do." He turned to Helen. His lip quivered. "We're tools, Helen. That's all we are. That's all we'll ever be."
Helen gasped.
The Mary Sue baby Null Guardian appeared.
"Wugga-doo," it spoke. It pulled out a top hat and cane. It began to dance around.
D'Void came out of his posh citadel slash mansion, wearing a towel. "What the fuck? I was in the shower. Can't I go for five minutes without some stupid interruption?" He looked over at his scream-sobbing baby. "Aw, shit. Now you woke the baby up from its nap!"
Helen and Manny began to cry. They hugged each other in terrified understanding. What once was that nothing made sense, suddenly became clear.
They were forced to come to terms with the cruel reality that they were in a endless string of bad fanfiction, destined forever to be out of character and do incredibly stupid things as the author deemed it so. They would be eternally forced to gush about unbelievably stupid Mary Sues, or murder them to invoke some misplaced audience sympathy, die repeatedly, be reduced to little more than scapegoats for rampant mischaracterization, in endless streams of unintentionally hilarious plots and revoltingly repetitive scenarios. And et cetera, etcetera, etc.
FOREVER.
Or until the OPs get over themselves, get a clue, or perhaps simply die of old age or at a young age from ailing health brought on by dangerous levels of morbid obesity. Whichever comes first.
The End