With an over-inflated ego and influenced by the praise of his friends, Flint did the unspeakable. A blasphemous act of, well, blasphemy. Utilizing his studies of the occult, mythology, and pop culture, he designed his own shrine of worship, believing him to be the personification of a cosmic force (and coincidentally, an automobile).

Unfortunately, he was wrong right somewhere in the middle. When Eros takes offense, he offers Flint an ultimatum: rise to his ego and spread seeds of romance (not those kind) among a new, nearly god-less land, or spend the rest of his life in the Fields of Punishment listening to Justin Bieber's "music."

In other words, Flint must become a god. A god of shipping.

Trigger warnings: blatant parody, self-insert, insertions of self, Greek mythology, and a shit ton of lesbians.

Don't Look At My Name Bro looked over this little scribble for me, and I truly appreciate it!

Just a little something I cooked up for my birthday.