I AM ALWAYS WATCHING YOU.
It's calligraphed on my living room wall with permanent marker. I don't want to jump to conclusions, but it's probably my older sister. Which means she's alive. My sister's okay.
She's also in the house and will probably kill me when she sees the upstairs carpet, then dig me up and kill me again once she figures out I may have destroyed the world. And then she'll raise me from the dead and kill me a third time when she realizes that she can't actually reach Ficwad from here. So I am, at this point, in a lot of trouble. But all things considered, Fanfiction Dot-net and family are safely in The Medium. The Medium's actually terrifying. There's legit nothing out there. Just a void.
But to keep myself entertained, I've started combining things. It's become an option in my sylladex, and Pottermore got the idea to combine Grist AS A TEAM so we pretty much always have the ability to make stuff. So I just go nuts.
Why, yes, I will combine this and that to make a horrendous monstrosity! Why, yes, I will mix Starbursts and NyQuil! Why, yes, I will mix action figures with barbie dolls to create what looks like pre-operation transgendered village people wannabes!
For future reference, the Sylladex I own recognizes the NyQuil-Starbursts amalgamation as, and I quote, "Cherry Berry Drug-induced Coma Bursts!"
I honestly can't wait to eat them.
My Supernatural box set gets thrown together with my nicest clothes to create "The Supernatural Good-Looker."
But enough about medical-issue causing sugar stuffs and my totally sweet new clothes. My sister is in my house, and I need better weapons because my house is quickly filling up with beasts. Which is totally an issue because they are eating stuff they should not be eating, like the drywall. And, oh, ME.
One more quick problem. Interobanaraangsprite should be the best sidekick, seeing as he's made of a ninja and has elemental control and is made of my own prose, but he's such a pain. He's the worst sidekick ever. He's perfectly happy to just run through a crowd of monsters and leave me on cleanup crew. And not just, like, run-run. He doesn't stop moving. He doesn't stop talking. He talks so fast, that most of the time I don't know what he's even saying. It's just a cacophony with a few catchphrases thrown in.
I select my Pen-sword from my sylladex. It's time to make a super-sugoi weapon choice combination.
There's a sudden screech, and Interobanaraangsprite tosses a monster out the window. He lets out a war whoop, and just dives into the sea of gnashing teeth. "Hey, Interobander...Intero...Banana! What should I cross my Pen-sword with?" I call, kicking a bug-eyed monster in the face to keep him from ripping a hole in my sneakers.
"Prefarbsolunemy?! Ka-chow!" Naraangsprite shouts, throwing elbows and blocks like they're going out of style and he's got storehouses full of them. See what I mean?
"You know what I mean, right?"
"UNH! Tondowsnarchi! WHOO-HOO!"
"Can you slow down? I don't know what you're saying!"
Interobanaraangsprite rolls his eyes, and goes at the slowest speed he can, which is the equivalent of an angry Gordon Ramsay.
"Well! If! You're! Going! To! Just! Stand! While! Donoth! Whipwhine! About! How! Hard! It! Is! Then! Maybe! You! Should! SHUT UP!"
What a jerk! Bananasprite clearly doesn't need my help. He's tearing monsters apart all by himself.
Well, I'll show him! Stupid anime-sugoi-tastic idiot thinks he can do it all, huh? Well then. I'm here to play.
I take a running leap, landing on the skull of a basilisk-looking thing that shatters with a crunch! and push off, flipping over several other enemies, and dig through a cabinet. It's in here somewhere, I just know it.
When I finally find my Dance Dance Revolution game system, something's got a firm grip on my ankle. No big deal, I'm going to tear him up in about three seconds, beat that Interobanaraangsprite. You little pain in the butt.
The alchemization of pretty much every darn thing in my sylladex goes smoothly. I combine my pen-sword with Dance Dance Revolution, which makes the Mosh Jot Strife Rapier, an ancient name that I just gave it now. It even comes with a headset.
I need something to answer my messages, too, and I don't want to kill the headset, which is basically just a guide to tell me where to put my feet, and it comes with a free eyescreen. Basically, if I kill a monster with my feet in the right spot, I get more Grist. Hand spots count as doubles, and the higher foot and hand touch combinations I get, guess what? More Grist!
I kick off the little bleeder that's trying to chew through my socks, and ask the only girl who could help me, carefully holding onto my laptop.
[Fanfiction Dot-Net (FFN) messaged Youtube (YTB)!]
FFN: YO! YOUTUBE! WHERE ARE YOU LOCATED?!
YTB: ugh just say where u at
FFN: That's cool.
FFN: Listen, I need music for my new weapon. The Mosh Jot Strife Rapier.
YTB: U CAME TO DA GIRL FOR THAT!
YTB: Dun worry, ill give you a sick playlist
FFN: And I need something to manage my messages. Help?
YTB: Y U NO READ DA RULES?
FFN: I don't need rules. Help me before I get eaten.
YTB: npbadsfa a;lsdkfjasl;dfkjasdlfkjaroh;tFUCK
FFN: Language. God.
YTB: i am da language god
YTB: try combining your computer with glases or somethi
FFN: Thanks!
YTB: And heres ut platlist:
And cue outgoing link.
FFN: WHOOP! Thanks!
FFN: Anyway, Interobanaraangsprite's preparing to eat me, so I have to go. Do stuff.
YTB: k cool pve out
As awesome as screen-glasses sound, I think fingerless gloves would be a better choice. So after kick-stomping my way to the closet, I get my sister's pair of fingerless gloves. They fit me. They're women's. It's no big deal. Guys wear women's clothes all the time. The dark blue and black stripes even match my outfit.
Easy peasy. The computer gloves sync up with my Mosh Jot Strife, too.
"Yo! Shinobi! Donplytoll!" Interobanaraangsprite calls. He's put up with a lot already.
I set up Mosh Jot Strife to track 4. It's crazy awesome.
YTB: hop u like the musics i set it to cater to ir shitty msuic tastesd
FFN: Is this voice recognition?
FFN: Oh, sweet! It's like Christmas!
FFN: Hi! Awesome! Whoop! Echo!
YTB: y am i freinds with u?
FFN: Dunno. And-ERK!-first off, do not insult my excellent music taste.
FFN: And second, LANGUAGE!
A handprint shows up in the lens on the ceiling. I run, take the leap, tag the handprint, slice the head off a snake, get both the footprints on the table, then roll into a crouch, slicing open an ogre that looks like a tank. The kitchen is a mess of grist, and I scoop it up quickly.
"Beat that, Bananasprite!" I shout. He replies by cracking his knuckles, going back to wrenching open enemies with his bare hands and unleashing all-new fists of fury.
But then guess who shows up to ruin it all?
Fictionpress hits me on the blind side, knocking me down, but I'm awake enough to parry her next hit. She lunges, trying too hard, and I knock her pen-sword up and out of my way.
Wait, wait, wait. What am I doing?
"Fictionpress! YOU'RE ALIVE!" I am dangerously close to a shriek.
"You're so dead!" my sister snarls. I jump forward, catching her in a hug. "Let go, little bro!" Fictionpress tries to disentangle me at first, but then resorts to just slapping me in the face. That knocks me off, and sends me sprawling to the floor, knocking out another enemy with my fabulous bum.
"Did you know how worried I've been? Halfway through getting to Ficwad's, I learn that something's happening here, so I have to turn around and come all the way back-"
"You're okay! That's so great! I'm so happy!"
"Shut up! And I come around and turn all the way back to find that you're taking the house, and me, I might add, to some godforsaken void in the middle of nowhere-"
"You keep trying to pick a fight, but I'm just happy you're alive!"
I go in for another hug.
"...Please stop hugging me. You are scaring the monsters," intones my sister.
"I'm scaring them ironically."
My sister shakes me off. Interobanaraangsprite clears his throat. "What, do you want a hug too?" my sister asks, tensing her arms. He shakes his head so hard I think he could break his own neck.
"Good. Not much of a hugging person."
A new message pops up on my left goggle screen. "Go ahead and take it, little bro. We've got this," my sister says, hearing the ping.
While I compose an answer, they leap into the sea of monsters, pen-sword flashing, and arrows glowing.
[? ? ? ? ? ? (TMB) messaged Fanfiction Dot-Net (FFN)!]
TMB: kay so my friends and i are playing hs
TMB: and im givin you the #insidetrack because you seem okay
TMB: for a boy
FFN: Okay. Uh, listen, I don't know you.
FFN: Can I get a name?
TMB: i dont like my!name
TMB: names shouldnt define who you are
FFN: Y'know what? I totally get that. That sounds totally legit.
TMB: finally first person to get that ever
FFN: You must hang out with some pretty shallow people.
TMB: yeah theyre all pretty much ableist!sexists and aren't cool with who i am
FFN: That sucks :(:
FFN: Oh, wow, my voice recognition picks up smileys!
FFN: That's weird and unexplainable.
FFN: See, the second set of dots is supposed to represent my snakebite piercings!
TMB: #awesome i love sensitive guys with face rings!
TMB: so you into yaois or what
FFN: Heck yes! Who isn't?!
TMB: ohhh i get it now ;)
FFN: What?
TMB: whats your fleet
FFN: Ooh! Too broad! Pick a fandom!
FFN: (And technically, it's a Navy, but I'll let it slide.)
TMB: harry potter?
FFN: I ship basically everything, so you might want to sit down.
TMB: #toocool im so glad im patron playing you
TMB: i ship everything too were the same but i dont think canons important
TMB: you still there
TMB: helloooo
FFN: What did you just say to me.
TMB: canons not!important
FFN: Do you have any idea how wrong you are?
FFN: You've entered a whole new level of wrong.
FFN You're in the Twilight Zone of wrong.
TMB: #ohmygod dont take it so personally
FFN: Don't take it personally?
FFN: DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY?
FFN: THIS IS SHIPPING. THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE WORLD!
TMB: yeah agreed but canons still not important
FFN: EVERY SHIP. IN EVERY FORM. IS IMPORTANT.
FFN: HOW DENSE DO YOU HAVE TO BE?!
TMB: dont attack me because i believe in something you dont you communist asshole
FFN: Language! God!
TMB: dont take gods name in vain people could find it offensive
TMB: please check your privilege
FFN: DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!
FFN: Y'KNOW WHAT? SCREW YOU, YOU HARPY WHO HAS NO CONCEPT OF SHIPPING AND PROBABLY SHIPS LIKE, GINNY/HARRY OR SOMETHING.
TMB: DONT THRASH THE SHIPS AND DONT HATE!ME
TMB: I WAS SHIPPING BEFORE IT WAS COOL OKAY
TMB: YOURE OBVIOUSLY STUPID AND HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOURE TALKING ABOUT
FFN: I HATE YOU! SO! MUCH!
TMB: I HATE YOU MORE! FUCK YOU! IM NOT HELPING YOU!
FFN: THAT'S FANTASTIC! GOOD DAY! I HOPE I NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN!
By the time I'm done yelling at the mystery person, every one else in the room is staring at me. Blood drips off the edge of of my sister's pen-sword. Interobanaraangsprite has a firm hold on a struggling little imp, but he's staring at me. "What? What y'all looking at? IT'S PERFECTLY NORMAL TO FREAK OUT EVERY NOW AND THEN!" I scream. Everything takes a step back.
My palm vibrates. New message. God, if it's that mystery shipper again...
[? ? ? ? ? (HSG) messaged (FFN)!]
HSG: Bro. Bro. Did you just piss off Tumblr?
FFN: Oh, great. Are you her boyfriend are something?
HSG: implying I'd smack that
FFN: Ew. No. Trigger warning, please.
HSG: Hue Hue Hue. God, you guys are literally the same person. Trigger warnings.
FFN: So Tumblr was the girl I pissed off?
HSG: Yes. Bro, she is such a bitch. I love you. She's a straightlaced little prude and she's so pissed off at you. It's beautiful.
HSG: If you weren't such a little fag I'd patron play you.
FFN: Uh...I'm not gay.
HSG: Keep telling yourself that. Whatever helps you sleep at night.
HSG: Besides, we all know why you've got you've got the snakebites. I mean, hello?
FFN: What. I'm not gay. I'm strictly hetero.
HSG: We're asking every hetero to get to know us better, oh, it's not just for gays anymore!
HSG: Maybe you're just latent gay.
FFN: I'm not gay!
HSG: Then why the piercings? Got a tongue to match?
FFN: O / / / / / O
FFN: I think I understand what you're saying. Please tell me it doesn't mean what I think it means.
HSG: Implying that you wouldn't enjoy that.
HSG: Implying I wouldn't either.
HSG: Implying that I'm lying and so are you.
FFN: No! It's just, uh...I'm not gay!
HSG: Poor little idiot.
HSG: Is defense your only option?
FFN: Wait, back there, with the little, with the...stuff?
FFN: Were you hitting on me?
HSG: Implying I'm not?
FFN: Oh. Uh. Okay. Sorry. Um. What's your name?
HSG: You may refer to me as HSG.
HSG: Or, if the mood fucking suits you, Galactic President Superstar Mcawesomeville.
FFN: Don't swear at me. Give me your name.
HSG: You know I can see you, right?
FFN: NAME, HUMAN.
HSG: Fuck you. It's not a need to know.
FFN: Name or I'll block you.
HSG: FALSE. A bro does not cockblock another bro.
FFN: I don't know what I expected.
FFN:But listen, I have to get out of the Medium.
HSG: Fuck that noise.
HSG: I'm not helping you. Get that crazy-ass Albino chick to help you.
FFN: Go away. And stop swearing, please.
Navy blue light flashes outside the window. It's like Youtube read my mind. About fourteen stories of endless house copies have been stacked all the way up.
HSG: The gate'll take your hot little ass straight out of the Medium and into your new planet.
HSG: Bring your sister. She's a choice piece of ass.
FFN: HEY!
HSG: Relax. Bro Code says that a bro can hit on a bro's sister, but cannot hit the sister.
FFN: Hit?
HSG: Oh My Fuck. Just get through the gate.