Categories > Original > Fantasy > MegaMistake
The shit I plan to get done starts with breakfast. Ficwad (who is awesome and also me) is making breakfast. I sometimes refer to myself in the third person for no particular reason. It makes me an individual who’s not afraid to look outside the box at the void surrounding her life.
Breakfast includes fruit and plants. I don’t eat meat, because I’m a vegetarian. Killing animals is so not cool! Besides, I get enough from plants and vegetables and the bread my cousin Fictionpress mails me, even though my fingernails are kind of weird.
Besides breakfast, I also get dressed. I like wearing black, but it’s so damn hot in the jungle where I live that I swear like a motherfucker and stain everything. So today it’s olive green day. I dress up according to color days. I’ve had red day, blue day, and pink day already this week. Dressing in a solid color is fun, and Olive Green makes me feel like Jane from Tarzan, along with the whole living-in-the-jungle-by-myself sort of dealio.
My treehouse is where it’s at, yo! My cousin Fictionpress is only here six months of the year, and the rest of the year she’s looking after my Skank-Whore-Shipper cousin Fanfiction.net. One who is Supremely Awesome Does Not Need A Babysitter Year Round. Duh.
Speaking of supremely awesome, my laptop dings. Sick Rad Awesome, Brah!
I hastily stash a few changes of clothes into my sylladex, which takes about fifteen minutes. I don’t mind, the system I use is definitely superior to anything else. It’s Rate Up/Rate Down. See, it’s voice activated. I can command it by saying what I’m locking in, along with the phrase, “Rate up!” or “Rate Down!”
Rating up something puts it closer to the top of my Sylladex, and rating it down puts it lower. It’s easy, until you realize you’ve rated something so far down you’ll never find it.
Sashaying over to my laptop, I click on the game, and click ‘run’. Oh My God, Oh My God! This is gonna be so cool! I’m gonna run Homestuck!
My computer screen goes black. “What the fuck?” I ask, smashing random keys.
When I hit the enter key, I get a countdown of Four minutes and thirteen seconds. What even? I send a quick message to Pottermore from my handheld. Youtube got me a copy last year, which is more than my cousin sent me, I’ll add.
[Ficwad (FW) messaged Pottermore (PM)!]
FW: what the fuck, dude. the damn thing doesnt even work.
PM: What’s not working, pigeon?
FW: Homstueck! it’s just given me a countdown.
FW: Homestuck*
PM: You’re running it NOW?!
PM: I’m in the middle of class!
FW: listen, you’re being a major homophobe. wanna help me or not?
PM: Don’t use words if you’ve got no idea what you’re saying.
PM: ‘Sides, I’ve got flat A’s in this course. It’s doing this on a phone screen that’ll be tricky as all hell, love!
FW: just get going already!
PM: Right-o. Downloading things.
PM: And now movin them...
There’s an earth-shattering crunching noise from the front of my treehouse.
My handheld bings with more messages.
PM: Whoopsy daisy.
PM: Sorry about that.
Dashing to the front of my treehouse, there’s now a huge hole with some sort of machine through my front door.
FW: WHAT THE FUCKETY FUCK IS THAT!?!!?!
PM: It’s something that’ll help you later.
PM: Sorry about the front door. My finger slipped.
FW: STOP DROPPING MACHINES ON MY HOUSE! THIS ISN’T TERMINATOR, POMO!
PM: Machine number two inbound.
PM: You might wanna duck, pigeon.
I slam to the floor, and another machine falls through the roof to my left.
“Stop dropping stuff! I like my house without you adding skylights!” I scream.
PM: IT’S NOT ME BLEEDIN FAULT! I’M ON A PHONE SCREEN WITH SAUSAGE FINGERS!
PM: And yes, I CAN hear you.
Pretty sure I’m blushing by this point. “How many more machines do I have to get?” I ask the empty air. Does Youtube feel like this? I think her mental illness is tragic. And it makes her unique! Which is awesome! Being unique is a miracle.
PM: That’s all you get, for now.
PM: Seeing as we’ve got less than five minutes till the end of the world, mind checking them out quick-like, love?
Feh. Don’t tell me what to do! I’m my own person! Wait, that machine actually looks pretty cool.
I amble over to the first machine that crashed through my house walls. “How’d you even get in here?” I ask, looking to my handheld.
PoMo’s message comes through quickly.
PM: Easy, pigeon! It’s a drag and drop menu on my phone! Like the Sims!
FW: so basically you can control whatever the fuck hapens in my house?
PM: Exactly!
PM: Can I burn down all your stupid Frerard Fanart?
FW: NOOOOOOOOOOONONONONONONONONONONONONO!
The walls of my house are papered in Frerard stuff. I really, really like them! And I’ve spent half my life on them!
Turning my attention back to the first machine, I run my hand over it’s surface. It’s big, with a boxlike platform, with a cylinder on top. There’s a touch-screen on the side, and I run my fingers over it.
PM: DON’T TOUCH THAT!
PM: Shite.
A string of numbers runs across the touch screen, to be replaced with one word.
“Look! Pottermore! It’s welcoming me!” I shout, because it is. Even machines have to recognize how awesome I am!
The top of the cylinder sinks down, spitting out a solid, glittery-rainbow cylinder. “What’s that?” I ask, waiting for PoMo to recognize.
PM: That machine is called a Cruxtruder.
PM: The thing it spat out is a Cruxite Dowel.
PM: Pick it up, or put it in your Sylladex or something.
FW: k cool.
I dig my sylladex out of my pocket, and recite, “Mega-Glitter-Rainbow cylinder. Plus five.” True to it’s form, a silver haze encopasses the frame of the cruxidte towle.
ENCOMPASSES. CRUXITE. DOWEL. GODDAMMIT.
It appears shortly after in my sylladex. No idea how the fuck that works. Magnets.
The Cruxtruder clunks again, and spits out a sphere with smaller circles glowing inside it.
FW: oh hellz, yo. it's spitting out something else!
PM: Is it a random flashing circle with other circles inside it?
PM: That's going to be your guide. Take something you'd really like and toss it at it!
Glancing around, I rip a few Frerard fanarts off the walls. I should easily preserve my OTP.
The sphere takes it in, and immediately begins to balloon into something with two heads.
Wait, what? NO! NO NO NO! Something has gone horribly wrong!
"Urrgh...what happened?" it says. My new sprite guide has two heads, one supposed to be Frankie and the other is Gerard. My anatomy's a big wonky, so the arm on Frankie's side is longer than Gerard's. Gerard has a lazy eye, though, to make up for it.
PM: Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you....FRETARDSPRITE!
FW: sooooo not funny. can i fix it?
PM: Learn to love it. Try that, for a change.
PM: How much time we got left?
I race back to my room, ignoring Fretardsprite, to check my computer. “Two-thirteen!” I shout.
PM: Not a lot. We’ll have to do most of the making stuff in the Medium.
“The What?”
PM: Where you’re going next, love!
Then guess who messages me at this crucial time? My Fan-trollop cousin, Fanfiction.net.
[Fanfiction.net (FFN) messaged Ficwad (FW)!]
FFN: Hey, chick-cousin.
FW: WHAZZUP, MY UNICORN BRO?
FW: Awesome program you sent me! running it rgiht now!
FW: Right*
Ugh, that’s embarassing. EMBARRASSING. Fretardsprite taps my shoulder. "Not now!"
FFN: STOP. DON’T DO IT.
FFN: DESTROY THAT DISK.
Like I’m listening to you now, Bro.
FW: yeah, no, don’t think so.
FW: i’ve already downloaded stuff for it.
FFN: What kind of stuff?
Can’t you see I’m busy, you pea-brained busybody? To make matters worse, Pottermore messages me.
PM: Can you put the Dowel on the big round machine?
PM: The one I almost crushed you with?
I toggle my sylladex over to the dowel while keeping my convos going. Smart girl.
The second machine is a flat round circle with a larger cylinder to the side of it, clearly labelled ‘Alchemiter’. I match the dowel up with the larger cylinder on the Alchemiter.
I’m getting good at this.
Right away, an arm of the machine pops out, and starts carving the dowel.
I message FFN back.
FW: like machincal stuff! i’ve made these cool crystal stuff, and i got them all shaped.
Then Pottermore messages me. What the fuck, cannot keep doing this. "E-E-Excuse me? Us?" Fretardsprite asks. I'm not even paying attention to that ugly thing. I want a new sprite.
PM: Later on, you get to make your own stuff, too.
I don’t respond, but I send it straight to Fanfiction.
FW: sez i get to make stuff to. awesome! can’t wait!
FW: i’ve also got some sort of countdown. it says I need a server player. will you be my server player?
Wait, fuck, why’d I do that? Goddamn it, do not want to continue this conversation.
FFN: Okay. What’s the countdown mean?
FW: i’ve got 3 min 14 secs. Sex, lolz.
Yeah, I lied about the time, so what? "Why is everything red? Can you help me? Us? Everything's red outside..." Fretardsprite stammers.
Fuck all. "Fine! I'll look! Happy!" I snap.
Pushing myself off the edge of the Cruxtruder, I climb to the top of my Treehouse. The air feels like smoke in my lungs.
What...oh my God.
The entire forest around my house is on fire. I’m literally in the middle of hell. Holy fuck! Jesus, what do I do? I look to the sky, to see meteors streaking red-hot, leaving flashes when I close my eyes. Meteors are landing with dull thuds against the earth, trees catching fire where they land.
Looking straight up, I notice a really, really big and nasty looking rock headed right for my house. That’s it, so outta here.
Leaping down through the hole, I run to what used to be the dowel. "Is everything okay?" Fretardsprite asks, sounding scared. My heart twinges with pity.
The dowel's been carved into a box. Reaching to the side of the Alchemiter and running my hand over a screen in the side, a bookshelf and book appear on the flat circle.
This doesn’t even make any sense any more. But Fuck this. Fuck real, Fuck not making sense, Fuck this game. I don’t want to play.
FW: POMO! DIRECTIONS!
PM: Loud and clear, pigeon. Pick up the book and crack it against the ground.
I reach over, hauling the book up in both hands, and I can see the flames roaring outside the window, and my lungs hurt so much, but I send one last message to my cousin in case everything fucks up and I fucking die. Fretardsprite starts making panicked sounds.
[Ficwad.com (FW) messaged Fanfiction.net (FFN)!]
FW: hey sorry about not messaging you.
FW: all kinds of busy.
FFN: FICWAD OH MY GOD! ARE YOU OKAY?!
FW: yeah. don’t need you as a server playa though.
FW: got PM on it.
FFN: You’re still in your treehouse right?
FFN: The jungle one?
FW: yeah.
FFN: Aren’t there meteors landing the freak everywhere?
FW: yeeeeah. my bad.
FFN: Your bad? WHAT IS EVEN GOING ON?
FW: the game is ending my side of the planet.
FW: you guys should play too.
FW: or else we’ll all die.
FW: listen, i gotta go.
FW: there’s a bigass meteor headed right for my house.
FW: gotta get to the gate. get outta here.
FW: Laterz. get playing.
FW: :)
I add the happy face to let him know it’s all okay now. Hoisting the book above my head, I slam it to the floor, where a crack runs up the spine. “Nailed it!” I shout, punching the air. Even in the threat of death, I’m still cool.
A bright light bursts from the cracked book, and I cover my eyes.
I don’t smell smoke anymore.
I don’t smell anything.
Breakfast includes fruit and plants. I don’t eat meat, because I’m a vegetarian. Killing animals is so not cool! Besides, I get enough from plants and vegetables and the bread my cousin Fictionpress mails me, even though my fingernails are kind of weird.
Besides breakfast, I also get dressed. I like wearing black, but it’s so damn hot in the jungle where I live that I swear like a motherfucker and stain everything. So today it’s olive green day. I dress up according to color days. I’ve had red day, blue day, and pink day already this week. Dressing in a solid color is fun, and Olive Green makes me feel like Jane from Tarzan, along with the whole living-in-the-jungle-by-myself sort of dealio.
My treehouse is where it’s at, yo! My cousin Fictionpress is only here six months of the year, and the rest of the year she’s looking after my Skank-Whore-Shipper cousin Fanfiction.net. One who is Supremely Awesome Does Not Need A Babysitter Year Round. Duh.
Speaking of supremely awesome, my laptop dings. Sick Rad Awesome, Brah!
I hastily stash a few changes of clothes into my sylladex, which takes about fifteen minutes. I don’t mind, the system I use is definitely superior to anything else. It’s Rate Up/Rate Down. See, it’s voice activated. I can command it by saying what I’m locking in, along with the phrase, “Rate up!” or “Rate Down!”
Rating up something puts it closer to the top of my Sylladex, and rating it down puts it lower. It’s easy, until you realize you’ve rated something so far down you’ll never find it.
Sashaying over to my laptop, I click on the game, and click ‘run’. Oh My God, Oh My God! This is gonna be so cool! I’m gonna run Homestuck!
My computer screen goes black. “What the fuck?” I ask, smashing random keys.
When I hit the enter key, I get a countdown of Four minutes and thirteen seconds. What even? I send a quick message to Pottermore from my handheld. Youtube got me a copy last year, which is more than my cousin sent me, I’ll add.
[Ficwad (FW) messaged Pottermore (PM)!]
FW: what the fuck, dude. the damn thing doesnt even work.
PM: What’s not working, pigeon?
FW: Homstueck! it’s just given me a countdown.
FW: Homestuck*
PM: You’re running it NOW?!
PM: I’m in the middle of class!
FW: listen, you’re being a major homophobe. wanna help me or not?
PM: Don’t use words if you’ve got no idea what you’re saying.
PM: ‘Sides, I’ve got flat A’s in this course. It’s doing this on a phone screen that’ll be tricky as all hell, love!
FW: just get going already!
PM: Right-o. Downloading things.
PM: And now movin them...
There’s an earth-shattering crunching noise from the front of my treehouse.
My handheld bings with more messages.
PM: Whoopsy daisy.
PM: Sorry about that.
Dashing to the front of my treehouse, there’s now a huge hole with some sort of machine through my front door.
FW: WHAT THE FUCKETY FUCK IS THAT!?!!?!
PM: It’s something that’ll help you later.
PM: Sorry about the front door. My finger slipped.
FW: STOP DROPPING MACHINES ON MY HOUSE! THIS ISN’T TERMINATOR, POMO!
PM: Machine number two inbound.
PM: You might wanna duck, pigeon.
I slam to the floor, and another machine falls through the roof to my left.
“Stop dropping stuff! I like my house without you adding skylights!” I scream.
PM: IT’S NOT ME BLEEDIN FAULT! I’M ON A PHONE SCREEN WITH SAUSAGE FINGERS!
PM: And yes, I CAN hear you.
Pretty sure I’m blushing by this point. “How many more machines do I have to get?” I ask the empty air. Does Youtube feel like this? I think her mental illness is tragic. And it makes her unique! Which is awesome! Being unique is a miracle.
PM: That’s all you get, for now.
PM: Seeing as we’ve got less than five minutes till the end of the world, mind checking them out quick-like, love?
Feh. Don’t tell me what to do! I’m my own person! Wait, that machine actually looks pretty cool.
I amble over to the first machine that crashed through my house walls. “How’d you even get in here?” I ask, looking to my handheld.
PoMo’s message comes through quickly.
PM: Easy, pigeon! It’s a drag and drop menu on my phone! Like the Sims!
FW: so basically you can control whatever the fuck hapens in my house?
PM: Exactly!
PM: Can I burn down all your stupid Frerard Fanart?
FW: NOOOOOOOOOOONONONONONONONONONONONONO!
The walls of my house are papered in Frerard stuff. I really, really like them! And I’ve spent half my life on them!
Turning my attention back to the first machine, I run my hand over it’s surface. It’s big, with a boxlike platform, with a cylinder on top. There’s a touch-screen on the side, and I run my fingers over it.
PM: DON’T TOUCH THAT!
PM: Shite.
A string of numbers runs across the touch screen, to be replaced with one word.
“Look! Pottermore! It’s welcoming me!” I shout, because it is. Even machines have to recognize how awesome I am!
The top of the cylinder sinks down, spitting out a solid, glittery-rainbow cylinder. “What’s that?” I ask, waiting for PoMo to recognize.
PM: That machine is called a Cruxtruder.
PM: The thing it spat out is a Cruxite Dowel.
PM: Pick it up, or put it in your Sylladex or something.
FW: k cool.
I dig my sylladex out of my pocket, and recite, “Mega-Glitter-Rainbow cylinder. Plus five.” True to it’s form, a silver haze encopasses the frame of the cruxidte towle.
ENCOMPASSES. CRUXITE. DOWEL. GODDAMMIT.
It appears shortly after in my sylladex. No idea how the fuck that works. Magnets.
The Cruxtruder clunks again, and spits out a sphere with smaller circles glowing inside it.
FW: oh hellz, yo. it's spitting out something else!
PM: Is it a random flashing circle with other circles inside it?
PM: That's going to be your guide. Take something you'd really like and toss it at it!
Glancing around, I rip a few Frerard fanarts off the walls. I should easily preserve my OTP.
The sphere takes it in, and immediately begins to balloon into something with two heads.
Wait, what? NO! NO NO NO! Something has gone horribly wrong!
"Urrgh...what happened?" it says. My new sprite guide has two heads, one supposed to be Frankie and the other is Gerard. My anatomy's a big wonky, so the arm on Frankie's side is longer than Gerard's. Gerard has a lazy eye, though, to make up for it.
PM: Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you....FRETARDSPRITE!
FW: sooooo not funny. can i fix it?
PM: Learn to love it. Try that, for a change.
PM: How much time we got left?
I race back to my room, ignoring Fretardsprite, to check my computer. “Two-thirteen!” I shout.
PM: Not a lot. We’ll have to do most of the making stuff in the Medium.
“The What?”
PM: Where you’re going next, love!
Then guess who messages me at this crucial time? My Fan-trollop cousin, Fanfiction.net.
[Fanfiction.net (FFN) messaged Ficwad (FW)!]
FFN: Hey, chick-cousin.
FW: WHAZZUP, MY UNICORN BRO?
FW: Awesome program you sent me! running it rgiht now!
FW: Right*
Ugh, that’s embarassing. EMBARRASSING. Fretardsprite taps my shoulder. "Not now!"
FFN: STOP. DON’T DO IT.
FFN: DESTROY THAT DISK.
Like I’m listening to you now, Bro.
FW: yeah, no, don’t think so.
FW: i’ve already downloaded stuff for it.
FFN: What kind of stuff?
Can’t you see I’m busy, you pea-brained busybody? To make matters worse, Pottermore messages me.
PM: Can you put the Dowel on the big round machine?
PM: The one I almost crushed you with?
I toggle my sylladex over to the dowel while keeping my convos going. Smart girl.
The second machine is a flat round circle with a larger cylinder to the side of it, clearly labelled ‘Alchemiter’. I match the dowel up with the larger cylinder on the Alchemiter.
I’m getting good at this.
Right away, an arm of the machine pops out, and starts carving the dowel.
I message FFN back.
FW: like machincal stuff! i’ve made these cool crystal stuff, and i got them all shaped.
Then Pottermore messages me. What the fuck, cannot keep doing this. "E-E-Excuse me? Us?" Fretardsprite asks. I'm not even paying attention to that ugly thing. I want a new sprite.
PM: Later on, you get to make your own stuff, too.
I don’t respond, but I send it straight to Fanfiction.
FW: sez i get to make stuff to. awesome! can’t wait!
FW: i’ve also got some sort of countdown. it says I need a server player. will you be my server player?
Wait, fuck, why’d I do that? Goddamn it, do not want to continue this conversation.
FFN: Okay. What’s the countdown mean?
FW: i’ve got 3 min 14 secs. Sex, lolz.
Yeah, I lied about the time, so what? "Why is everything red? Can you help me? Us? Everything's red outside..." Fretardsprite stammers.
Fuck all. "Fine! I'll look! Happy!" I snap.
Pushing myself off the edge of the Cruxtruder, I climb to the top of my Treehouse. The air feels like smoke in my lungs.
What...oh my God.
The entire forest around my house is on fire. I’m literally in the middle of hell. Holy fuck! Jesus, what do I do? I look to the sky, to see meteors streaking red-hot, leaving flashes when I close my eyes. Meteors are landing with dull thuds against the earth, trees catching fire where they land.
Looking straight up, I notice a really, really big and nasty looking rock headed right for my house. That’s it, so outta here.
Leaping down through the hole, I run to what used to be the dowel. "Is everything okay?" Fretardsprite asks, sounding scared. My heart twinges with pity.
The dowel's been carved into a box. Reaching to the side of the Alchemiter and running my hand over a screen in the side, a bookshelf and book appear on the flat circle.
This doesn’t even make any sense any more. But Fuck this. Fuck real, Fuck not making sense, Fuck this game. I don’t want to play.
FW: POMO! DIRECTIONS!
PM: Loud and clear, pigeon. Pick up the book and crack it against the ground.
I reach over, hauling the book up in both hands, and I can see the flames roaring outside the window, and my lungs hurt so much, but I send one last message to my cousin in case everything fucks up and I fucking die. Fretardsprite starts making panicked sounds.
[Ficwad.com (FW) messaged Fanfiction.net (FFN)!]
FW: hey sorry about not messaging you.
FW: all kinds of busy.
FFN: FICWAD OH MY GOD! ARE YOU OKAY?!
FW: yeah. don’t need you as a server playa though.
FW: got PM on it.
FFN: You’re still in your treehouse right?
FFN: The jungle one?
FW: yeah.
FFN: Aren’t there meteors landing the freak everywhere?
FW: yeeeeah. my bad.
FFN: Your bad? WHAT IS EVEN GOING ON?
FW: the game is ending my side of the planet.
FW: you guys should play too.
FW: or else we’ll all die.
FW: listen, i gotta go.
FW: there’s a bigass meteor headed right for my house.
FW: gotta get to the gate. get outta here.
FW: Laterz. get playing.
FW: :)
I add the happy face to let him know it’s all okay now. Hoisting the book above my head, I slam it to the floor, where a crack runs up the spine. “Nailed it!” I shout, punching the air. Even in the threat of death, I’m still cool.
A bright light bursts from the cracked book, and I cover my eyes.
I don’t smell smoke anymore.
I don’t smell anything.
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