The Land of Fog and Magic is even colder than my cousin's land. Fretardsprite's carrying me on his back, with my head nestled in the Y joint of his spine. Fanfiction Dot-Net is probably dead. My communication stuff isn't working anymore, after FFN pushed me into the water, so I don't really know. I just want to go home and not play anymore.

"Let me down, okay?" I mumble to Fretardsprite. He obliges, and I slide to the snow-covered ground. My teeth are chattering together. Man, how can it be so cold? But I should find Pottermore, and then I can let him know what went down. Then we can plan around that, and everything probably won't be okay, or even close to okay, but we'll have a plan and that's a'ight with me.

"Hey!" someone calls. That is a girl's voice.

Whoa, what if Pottermore was a girl the whole time? That notion sort of trips me out. Like, what? What if?

This girl's decked out in some kind of God Tier outfit. Her hair is blue, and really well-dyed, no roots or anything. My dye's grown out and greased over. No more random-colored hair for me. The girl eyes me suspiciously. "You okay?" she asks. She isn't wearing pants, how can she not be wearing pants, it's freezing out here!

"Not really," I reply. "A lot of my family is dead."

She seems thrown. "That's not good. Um, Pottermore went running after some bitchy girl, with his dragon. Not to hate on girls or whatever, she's probably empowered and just super rude. He might be back? Hashtag Not-Sure?" she says.

Pottermore's apartment looks relatively inviting, so I wander past the girl and inside.

"Can I help you with anything? I'm Tumblr, by the way," the girl says. Pottermore's apartment is littered with book pages and torn-up HP posters. Fretardsprite pulls me by the arm to the bathroom. "Ficwad," I call back to her.

"Oh, no way! You're friends with DA!" chirps Tumblr. Fretardsprite starts messing around with the tub settings, and eventually gets it running. The taps spit a lot of water.

"I'ma take a bath, okay?" I tell her.

"Yeah, fine," she says, and settles down right outside the door.

There's a silence between the two of us. "Wanna talk for like two seconds?" says Tumblr.

Whatever, haven't got anyone else. "Sure."

Tumblr launches into a long speech about her life. God Tier, a rivalry with some douche, mentions of my cousin, Pottermore, and here. Plus, she thinks Youtube is a stuck-up bitch. I have no energy to argue with her, so I just take a bath and focus on the little bit of skin in between her Tier tunic and her underwear.

My hair is too gross to comb, but the water quickly turns from clear, to murky, to grey, and to black. Was I seriously that filthy?

After the bath, I equip some clean terrycloth shorts and a MCR shirt. My cousin is now dead, probably. I'll have to go back to his planet and look for his body, assuming that it'll wash up on shore. Or maybe he sank and is getting eaten by fish or something.

Tumblr's keeping an eye on me, making sure that I'm not going to do something stupid. There's a room beside Pottermore's that must have been his mom's. There's a pair of craft scissors in one of the bedside tables, which click deliciously.

"Easy now," cautions Tumblr. She pushes her glasses up her nose.

"I'm fine. Can you help me cut my hair? I want it really short," I tell her.

She shrugs, and holds her hand out for the scissors.

My head feels a lot lighter afterwards. My hair's been cut to my ears, and is curled like an afro. "Hold still!" commands Tumblr, racing to Pottermore's mom's closet. She grabs a scarf, white with black branches, and ties it around my head. "Tah-dah! Hastag: Perfect!" she announces, pushing me in front of the mirror.

The girl is still, technically, me.

"Can you take me out of here?" I say quietly.

"What?" says Tumblr, running a hand through my short hair.

"Take me back to your session. I'm not safe here, and I just need to go somewhere else."

She hesitates. "I don't know if I can do that?"

"Please? Just me and Fretardsprite?" I ask.

Tumblr wavers. "Well, I don't know if I should?"

I give her my totally-heartbroken face.

Tumblr gives an aggrieved-sounding sigh, and says, "fine, fine, okay, fine, whatever."

My skin starts crawling, and the room smells like diesel. I want to ask if this is it, but the room starts to fizzle. I blink rapidly, and with one hard blink, I'm standing on the surface of somewhere else.

"Okay," says Tumblr. "Happy?"

I tell her, "You forgot my sprite!"

"I'll go back for him," she says, and is gone with a burst of static.