FicWad

So. Been writing your own story, have you?

What’s it to you?

Don’t like your tone.

Y’know what? I don’t think I care, much.

What do I have to do? Kill them all in front of your eyes? Prophesy their deaths?

.....

FFN, if you don’t mind.

_______________________________________

I keep trying to message my cousin, but she’s not answering. I know she’s alive, Probably, but she’s ignoring me. Well, then. If I can’t talk to her, I’m going to have a word with Pottermore.

[Fanfiction.net (FFN) messaged Pottermore (PM)!]

FFN: I’m raising the rating on this to T for language.
FFN: But all things considered.
FFN: YOU.
FFN: INSUFFERABLE.
FFN: PRICK.
FFN: YOU SENT MY COUSIN OFF THE FACE OF THE PLANET, AND HAVE BROUGHT ABOUT THE END OF THE WORLD.
FFN: CONGRATS.
FFN: YOU’RE THE ANTICHRIST.
PM: Alright, yeah, I can understand you’ve got your knickers in a twist over this.
PM: But before you start ragetyping at me, listen!
PM: Ever think about how the world might not be worth saving?
FFN: No. Nuh uh. Don’t pull that sociopathic bullshit on me now.
PM: You really are knackered at me, aren’t you?
FFN: WHAT, LIKE YOU CAN’T TELL?!
PM: Calm, down, will you?
PM: Look, Ficwaddle’s perfectly dandy. She’s in the Medium.
FFN: The what?
PM: The wait a minute.
PM: Did you not read the directions?
FFN: I don’t need rules to tell me how to play.
PM: AAAH! OH MY GOD! WHAT THE SODDING HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?
FFN: LANGUAGE!!!!!
PM: Oh, shove it. Shite, shite, shite. Okay. Do you know about dream selves or anything at all?
FFN: No.

PM: Okay. It’s like this:
PM: Once the world is destroyed, there’s going to be a new universe where we’re going to fight it out with an Agent of Evil.
FFN: SUGOI!!!!
PM: ...
PM: Do you want to hear about the Solar system or about the Agent of Evil?
FFN: Both.
PM: Okay. We’ll start with the solar system.
PM: The new universe is called the Incipisphere.
PM: There are only three planets in the Incipisphere at the mo.
PM: When a new player enters, they get their own planet.
FFN: So far, this makes sense.
PM: Your cousin, Ficwaddle, is in the Medium, which is the space between planets. She is literally in a void.
PM: The other planets are Prospit, Derse, and Skaia.
FFN: (Absorbing information and debating taking notes.)
PM: Skaia is basically made up of unlimited creative potential. It can do everything and anything.
FFN: Like stem cells?
PM: Hey, presto, there we go.
PM: Exactly.
PM: The other two planets, Derse and Prospit, are at war over Skaia.
PM: Lots of power, and all.

PM: This is where it gets confusing.
FFN: It wasn’t already?
PM: On Derse, or Prospit, there is an alternate version of the HS player.
FFN: WHAT WHAT WHAT I HAVE A CLONE?
PM: Yeah, pretty much.
FFN: I should have started playing sooner :D:
PM: Somehow I have a feeling you haven’t been paying attention. It’s fine, it’s not like this’ll be a point of major importance, or definite foreshadowing.
PM: Anyways, every time you fall asleep once you enter the game, your dream self wakes up, and you can trod about on Derse or Prospit or wherever the hell you happen to be.
FFN: This is so cool.
PM: Listen...this is kind of a big deal. I need you to get me out of Pasadena, mate.
PM: For good.

I look away from the marathon chat session to check the news, mostly on meteor progress. It’s moved up from South America and is moving towards the southern USA.
I didn’t know Pottermore lived in Pasadena.

FFN: What can I do?
PM: Download the Server Player software. Move the machines into me flat, I can take it from there.
FFN: This game messes up reality, doesn’t it?
PM: Video game logic For the Fuckin Win.
FFN: LANGUAGE!!!!!!

I run a quick search for the software, and I hit the download key. This is too easy.
God. I’m actually on the cusp of something, aren’t I? This is it. I can’t just back out of this. I’m deeply entrenched in this thing for good. It’s not like there’s enemies in this game either, except for that Agent guy. This thing’ll be a cakewalk. “I’m not a failure, FP! I’ll show you up! Show you who’s boss!” I shout, standing on top of my chair.
My chair creaks under my amazing hero pose, then breaks. The base and the cylinder separate with a very plastic sounding Crack!
My sister’s handiwork. Again. God knows when she did this. She might have snuck into my room while I was asleep. Two weeks ago. This Morning. After the fight. I don’t know, pick one.
I try in vain to remember my deep thought, but it’s long gone.
Pulling myself forwards along the carpeting and giving myself what feels like a massive carpet burn, I trawl over to my laptop, which seems to dictate my life. A few keystrokes is all it takes to download the Server software. I fall asleep on my carpet with my hand still resting on the keypad. It’s a good life, being a teen.