I'm not broken, I'm twisted

Tempted to actually put this on spotify so I can secretly stream it at work...

So, we all thought it would be funny to pretend the Ken dolls were our current crush object characters and take them with us on our partying adventure. The game was, that the character we picked was head over heels in love with us, and we would talk for them. If we didn't know what to say, then we had to pull out a piece of paper from the bag and read it in the best impression of their voice we could.

It was hilarious. We looked like a group of crazy women everywhere we went. Out to the club, dancing with a Ken doll in one hand. At the restaurant, Ken loves fries and thanks you for your service, Mr. Waiter who is terrified of our table. Out for drinks, sorry, not interested rando stranger, can't you see I'm here with my boyfriend/girlfriend/significant other? Rude.

Anyway, the next day, when everyone was hung over and still living off the high, all anyone could talk about was how beautiful, wonderful, and amazing they felt. We'd spent the entire night telling ourselves how incredible we were, how every flaw was a perfection, how every quirk was adorable.

Ken was the fiction, the loving ourselves and forgiving ourselves of whatever we deemed was wrong with us was real.

If you only knew how truly special you were, you would know that you deserve your own fandom crushing on you just like your f/o. Think for one moment, how much you love your f/o. How you've forgiven their quirks, love their flaws, see past their mistakes. All of that love and devotion can't come from someone who isn't worth the same adoration. And if you could spare some of that love of your f/o for yourself, you would see that your f/o would love you too, because you're worth loving.

Fictional story or not, you are worth endless love!

Me:

A ff where the Hazbin Crew is in big fucking trouble and they're like aw shit we're so fucked the odds are 10 to 1 against us and then Alastor just pulls a pack of coke outta the nether, takes one big line and fucking obliberates the threat. Bonus points if he does so without any of his demon powers.

I want that man high as balls with a torn suit, a hunting knife and a shotgun.

The Hazbin group plays D&D

Fair warning: I did this on my phone so..sorry if it’s crap and the grammar sucks butt.

Untitled

Discussions of death, undead, theft, and chaos

——————

He had worked hard. Pushed himself to lie and steal and collect the things he needed to harness and perfect his craft. As the Lord of Death and Undying, Commander of the Crossing, and Watcher of the Spirits he believed it was his right to create the mimicry of the natural.

Life’s most treasured gifts.

But he did not have much time to bask in his accomplishment.

Soon, the armies of his wayward brethren would be upon him and his greatest treasure would be forever nails his grasp. Whether they choose to destroy it on account of the stolen blood he’d harvested many thousands of years ago or steal it for themselves, he would never see his life’s greatest work to fruition.

Already, he felt the distorted madness of their old enemy’s hatred clawing at the walls of his mind. Soon, even he would not be a safe guardian to this fragile, beautiful, thing. He had conquered the impossible and forged a vessel that would grow like the mortals, but remain true to their origins; born of stolen blood and inhabited by an old and powerful spirit. Whole. While he was an unfinished half this one would be complete capable of proliferating and creating Life from the Lifeless bodies of his broken brethren.

They would not lose themselves to time and madness. They would grow, and change, immortal as his brethren are their natures would change.

The gods would no longer be frozen and incapable of understanding the cycles of the changing world around them, uncaring of the future, barely a thought to the present, and consumed by the past. Yanked forward by progeny whose cries and grasping hands would be an anchor forcing them to see, and accept, the present to prepare and protect the future. For their descendants as much for themselves.

He’d stolen Life and repurposed it for their ends.

With shaking hands, lined with black veins, The Lord of Death and Undying placed the tiny bundle into a stone coffin and sealed it. Feeling the layers of chains snap into place he released the breath he had been holding. It was a brilliant plan; a true latticework of spells hiding the coffin from himself as much as his brethren and their servants. Only a truly neutral and unbound being could see the coffin and read the inscription he’d placed there.

Magdiguaya. He had named her after a strange spirit he’d met at the edge of the violent tear his brother created during his studies. She was exquisite and full of life for all she had no heartbeat and either forgotten what it was like to have a body or never lived in one entirely.

“Live Magdiguaya. May you live to see my aspirations realized and save us all from this fractured and filthy fate your progenitors have succumbed to. We were foolish to believe we could control this madness.” Closing the chamber behind him, he applied yet another, equally complex, set of spells feeling the knowledge and recognition of this part of his kingdom slip away from him.

THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!!!!!! OMG! It's so insanely good!!! I was looking at it before I read your caption, and I thought, "Wow! This is gorgeous! It's like that scene I still cackle about.... Wait... Omg, omgomgomgomg IT IS!!!!! Ahhhhh!!!! 😆"