Subject: Of Trolls and Talking, Chapter 3: A Finale
Posted on: 2021-09-10 19:54:41 UTC

(Author’s Note: Hi guys! Sorry ‘bout the finale being a day late - college essays were rough this week and my brother still refused to help actually write. Anyways, I had to cram to get this done at all, so I hope you like this more than the last chapter, I think!

Thanks for reading this dumb tribute to my brother’s favorite internet group, I guess.

-Lou Caroline, signing off)

(Disclaimer: The Protectors of the Plot Continuum belongs to Jay and Acacia.)

(Content Warnings: This chapter contains big flowers, a big insect-troll things, plant philosophy, creativity shields[singular], disappearing, and the void.)

The door to the Sunflower Official’s office blew open in a blast of wood shards, metal scraps, and clouds of dust.

”PEW PEW PEW!” roared a voice from the haze, echoing around the small room a thousand times over, almost tinkling like the sounds of bells shattering glass.

A figure stepped through - tall, gray-skinned, with empty eyes aglow with innate prismatic light and a leering grin stretching her exoskeletal face across her nonexistent skull. Her wings buzzed with sheer menace as she hovered into the room, and her orange horns resting atop her head seemed to glint in the light.

”Y’gatha arrives,” she purred, lowering herself to the ground, right in front of the overgrown weed’s desk, resting her elbows on the wood and her chin on her hands.

The Sunflower Official, despite having no eyes, bothered to tilt its head down to give the impression of sight.

You could have just knocked, you know.

”Haha! Why would Y’gatha?” She leaned further forward, kicking one of her heels up into the air. ”What will the Weed that Walks do, I wonder? Call your gatekeeper dogs on me?”

She pulled herself upright and sat back on the guest chair, putting her hands behind her head and propping her legs atop the desk. ”But no, Y’gatha is not here for knocking. Y’gatha is here for talking.”

The Sunflower Official did not blink, as he was a flower, but he did fold his fronds in front of his stem and lower his head in quiet condescension

You know, I could very easily pop you like a tick right now. I was having a very nice rest, you see.

Y’gatha heard a very clear mental sigh emanate throughout the room.

But because I have no interest in instigating violence at the moment, I’ll let you speak. So. The Sunflower Official leaned forward, and Y’gatha found herself tilting back her head in order to maintain eye-to-disk contact.

What brings you here?

Y’gatha’s grin grew so wide it looked like her head was splitting in half lengthways. ”Oh, you see,” she growled, ”The TriumVirate of Tropers and the Organization of the Red Dits have unanimously declared your organization… unnecessary. Your gatekeepers stifle imagination and free speech! You kill those who do not fall into your standards of good and indoctrinate those you find weak-willed enough! You establish dictatorship through CONTROl! And your reign of gatekeeping terror ends HERE!”

The Sunflower Official stood unmoved.

And these organizations, which have never once bothered to contact us in the past, have sent… you? I see… well, I hope you’ve gotten that out of your system. Good day to you.

There was a short silence.

Y’gatha then broke said silence with a shrill shriek, whipping her legs off the desk and replacing them with her fists, both glowing with swirling iridescent light.

”WHAT?!” she roared, cocky grin transformed into a huge, face-splitting scowl that almost made her sculpted flesh dip down below her chin. ”You disRESPECT Y’gatha! You dISRESPECT Y’GATHA like an INSECT?”

She slammed her fists onto the desk, leaving cracks in the surface. Then she did it again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, akin to a baby having a temper tantrum.

”You should have WILTED!” she screeched. You should have shrunk BACK like the BULLIES YOU ARE! You should have FEARED Y’GATHA, DESTROYER OF EVERYTHING!”

She stomped atop of the desk and raised her head to the Sunflower Official’s level. ”Why.” she hissed, eyes glittering bright. ”Why do you not fear Y’gatha like you should.”

Because nothing here matters.

Just like that, Y’gatha Mesome seemed to run out of steam. She dropped down, collapsing in her chair, energy and light fading from her fists. ”What?” she said, voice quiet for the first time since she had arrived.

Nothing here matters. The Sunflower Official sat up straight in its pot, lifted a frond, and tapped on empty air - or at least it seemed to be air at first. The frond made an audible noise of contact, and for a moment, a grid of translucent hexagons was visible.

See that? The Official’s mind-voice sounded resigned. The work of a Creativity Shield. Meant to keep us in, and the true canon out in the real world.

He pushed against his desk, his pot gliding back like a rolling chair. They folded their fronds over their soil and mind-sighed. You see, we… we don’t exist. We aren’t real. We are but warped, fractured facsimiles of the actual Protectors of the Plot Continuum Headquarters, sealed here to prevent us from accidentally disrupting space-time stability.

And if we cannot exist, truly, then did we ever exist to begin with? Do we truly exist? If a story is told but no one hears it, did it ever occur?

The Sunflower Official moved back over to the desk, petals bristling. So. The reason why I don’t treat any of this with some alleged “deserved” respect? I’ve been cursed with this knowledge. It doesn’t matter, anyway, as we are to be discarded as the month fades.

And he was silent.

Y’gatha blinked. Then she growled, standing up and pushing her chair over. ”You lie,” she said. ”Y’’gatha has purpose! Your confusing gatekeeper babble has no hold over one as pure as myself! And I will prove it by DESTROYING YOUR FUN SUCKING WET BLANKET CONTINUUM!”

Y’gatha turned in a huff, ready to leave, then stopped.

The door was gone, in its place a solid wall with no trace or markings where it used to be.

Y’gatha whirled back towards the Sunflower Official and noticed the desk and chairs had disappeared as well, leaving just the Flower sitting in his pot like nothing unusual had happened.

”What are you doing?” Y’gatha screeched. Glittery energy coalesced around her hands, and she leaned in close to the overgrown plant. ”Just what game are you trying to play with Y’gatha?”

None, I’m afraid, the Official said, the tone of his mind-voice unchanged.

Then the walls and ceiling disappeared, gone like they had never existed, revealing a purplish-black void littered with specks of light scattering the distance. They glimmered and winked and lit up the remnants of the floor Y’gatha and the Sunflower Official stood on.

What did you DO?!” Y’gatha screamed. She staggered back, expression going from anger to surprise, then fear. The floor, the last remnant of the Sunflower Official’s office still existing, rocked with her every movement on the ocean of the void like a boat in the water. “What’s happening?!

Nothing, said the Official. It seems the Word World has decided to purge itself, though. Noncanonicity tends to lend itself to things like this, I’ve heard.

Y’gatha took one step towards the Flower, then another, her legs fighting back her attempts to move as the floating Generic platform continued to spin through space.

Then the floor disappeared, and it was just Y’gatha and the Sunflower official floating amongst the stars. Y’gatha threw her arms out, wings buzzing to keep her from falling down into the infinite abyss. The Sunflower Official stayed in the same position he was at before the ground vanished, hovering in his pot, head tilted at her in silent condescension.

”Stop this!” Y’gatha screamed, grabbing her horns tightly and pulling in distress. ”Stop it! STOP IT, Y’GATHA COMMANDS YOU!”

Happy Badfic Games, said the Sunflower Official. Then he disappeared.

Y’gatha gazed upon the infinite void, at the emptiness, at the lights. It suddenly dawned on her just how lonely she was now. She found herself alone with the knowledge that nothing she did, nothing she saw, nothing truly mattered under the pressing force of this all-powerful Creativity Shield. And that was just the way it was.

She opened her mouth to scream, and disappeared.

((Author’s Note: Hi! It was nice contributing to the Badfic Games this year, and I hoped y’all loved or hated this piece to the extent it deserved. For the curious? The entire plotline of this trilogy was created over the course of a few days, and I decided this year to just write like I usually do, just without beta readers. And the result was badfic. Whoopee.

On the TriumVirate of Tropers thrown randomly into the story… well, I picked up a lowered opinion of TV Tropes earlier this year after seeing their review page of the PPC, which… isn’t very well-informed, considerably dated in a lot of things and just overall smug and derogatory. Especially the reply thread connected to it. So hey, just a little bit of self-indulgent destressing here. And he, it’s the badfic games. Random personal gripes chucked clumsily into fics are, like, a pretty common thing to see in badfic, y’know?

Anyways, thanks for suffering with me.


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