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I'll try and break up the final issue with images, so it won't just be "here's a block of text, most of it is Tash". Fear not.

The alternative would be integrating the component pieces back into earlier issues. "4?" could sit on the end of [i]Rumours[/i], and "2nd" could obviously nestle on the end of [i]Coarse and Unrefined[/i], but there's not really an appropriate place to stick "3!", so we'll just stick with the way you have it. :)

I enjoyed this! It's nice to see a wrap-up of one of the various sub-plots we had going, and I liked the fact that the plan was... well, a bit of a shambles really. It's more realistic that way. ^_^ And the final scene was... sweet. :)

It would be fascinating to know how Tash's meltdown would have ended in the timeline where Ananke didn't intervene - we know she's still alive two years later, and everyone else isn't dead, so presumably someone managed to calm her down and/or lock her away. Quite possibly the Ellimist and the wizards dropped a local time-freeze on her, keeping her out of the way until they couldn't maintain it any more.

There are so many gods it would be hilarious to see in an event like this. Destiny of the Endless is one of my picks - carrying a book which theoretically tells them everything that's going to happen, but in the PPC just melts down. I had a sketch done (in case 11 people didn't join up) for one of the HQ Daleks as the Gallifreyan god Time. I was equal parts dreading and hoping for someone to pull out one of the Chaos Gods of Warhammer 40K.

But y'know, I think we had a pretty good Pantheon - and Tash, both because she's an amazing bundle of contradictions and because you did so much with her, was definitely one of the stars. Thanks for taking part. :)

hS

why cant ellie use her powers??? so is MEEN :((( looking 4ward 2 next chappy!!

Im lov Jaycacia!! and wow chruistianne should get her ebulness put in2 a pumpkin 2. >:( so mad e married her >:( rite moar!!

((Ekwy I am sending you my medical bills I need to get stitches from all the laughter!! Incredible ~Lily))

I like a bunch of fandoms, mostly LOTR and HP, but a couple others. As for other things about myself, I am a person. That's about it honestly.

((Okay, so this got away from me in a massive way. hS, feel free to cut some of this out of your final doc collection if you think my characters would end up dominating too much of the event. I can just post my overall story separately on my dreamwidth. And Iximaz, I hope you don't mind me describing the audience at a Kord concert. Hyenas live in matriarchal societies, so I think any god who is either bio-female or god-aspect-female would have been able to sway Alfajiri. Kord and the Ellimist were the only gods he could listen to without derailing the plot. But I can change anything about that scene you feel is inaccurate; just let me know.))

((Let's see if this all fits in one post . . .))

---

4?

Alfajiri padded around the corner. “Laquisha, we have a problem . . .”

“Okay, Alfa, I know you’re literally a hyena, but you still shouldn’t just walk into girls’ dorm rooms. That is a no-kay thing in human society!”

“Sorry,” he muttered, “but Anne and Numbuh 3721 and I went to the cafeteria like we had planned, and we overheard that there’s a bunch of kids who have started calling themselves gods.”

“Uh. Wow.” Laquisha got up from where she had been laying on the floor. She and Wilma had been working on wanted posters of Ilcharheen to plaster around Headquarters. “My kneejerk thought would be to call that a prank, but . . . it’s hard to picture Ilcharheen going along with something like that, huh?”

“Right.” Alfajiri let his head droop, eyebrows furrowed. “That, plus the fact that the gods are putting on magical concerts.”

A snap cracked through the room. Wilma let the destroyed marker drop to the now-ruined poster and wiped her inky hand on her shorts. “Well,” she said, standing up. “Well, well, well,” and she tilted her head back and forth each time as she said it.

Laquisha huffed. “Wilma, please, this is not the time. This is serious!”

“Oh, I think this is the perfect time!” snapped Wilma. Her constant t-shirt—showing a targeting reticle hovering over paired eighth notes—was on full display. “This is exactly what I’ve been warning you idiots about. Music is evil!”

“I think she’s right, Laquisha! After we found out about the concerts, we went to spy on one that the time guy was putting on. And after it was over, Anne and Numbuh 3721 didn’t even want to help find Ilcharheen any more! They were kind of babbling about how time is too precious to lose, and they had to go live in the moment, and they wouldn’t even listen to me. They just wandered off without me!”

Wilma was nodding sagely. “Yes, obviously, music is corrupting. This is old news. The question is, how do we stop these so-called gods from polluting HQ?”

“This is way beyond, guys,” Laquisha said. “We need to go tell Miss MacKinnon . . .”

“Wrong.” Wilma gazed smugly at her fingernails.

“. . . and find Mollie and Ollie, they can get Vania and Doc on board to help us . . .”

“Can’t trust them.” Wilma dropped the smug act and glared hard at Laquisha. “Can’t trust anyone. You understand that?” She poked her classmate hard a few times, right in the collarbone. “This is mind control. We don’t know who’s been affected!”

Laquisha frowned. “We can’t handle a problem like this on our own. There have to be some people unaffected. Alfa is fine!”

“Yep, I’m still me,” said Alfajiri, “other than being very sad because I miss my best friend and I don’t know what’s happened to her.” He groaned.

The animosity between the girls swiftly faded, and they looked at each other. Laquisha said, “All right, let’s compromise. Let’s hit up the next concert any of these ‘gods’ are performing. If it’s Ilcharheen, we can try to nab her once the show ends and try to find out what’s going on. If not, we’ll watch the adults around us and look for ones who aren’t being affected. Then they can alert the Flowers to do something about this.”

Wilma had groaned at the idea of attending a concert, but she didn’t argue.

---

3!

Wilma was soon groaning again, hands clutched over her ears as Kord’s musical performance filled the auditorium. In the seats around her and her classmates, fistfights were breaking out left and right. Wilma was grateful for all the cheering and yelling, as it made it easier for her to keep the actual music from entering her mind.

“This is pointless!” she yelled to her right. Alfajiri was next to her, with Laquisha on his other side. “That tiger thing definitely isn’t Ilcharheen, and all the people here are idiots hurting themselves over music! Let’s just go!”

Alfajiri, with his sensitive predator ears, rapidly nodded his head. Laquisha just stared forward, however.

“Laquisha? Let’s go!” Alfajiri nudged her arm with his muzzle.

“You know what?” Laquisha said, barely loud enough for the others to hear.

“What?”

“I can do . . .” She took a deep breath. “ANYTHING! I can do exactly ANYTHING! Anything I want! I don’t have to always be the responsible one! I’m not obligated to resolve disputes between my classmates all the time! And when I grow up, I can be WHATEVER I WANT! WHOOOOO!” She stretched her arms up, fists balled like Superman’s when he flies, and charged straight out of the auditorium.

Her classmates stared at her empty seat for a moment. Then Wilma squacked, “Holy crap, after her!” They charged down the aisle, Alfajiri easily slipping through agents’ legs. Wilma, however, was having to duck between fighting agents, and took a fist right above her jaw before she could make it through.

Once out the auditorium doors, Alfajiri and Wilma tried to follow after Laquisha, but Wilma soon had to lean against the generic wall, holding the right side of her head. Alfa gave up the chase and nuzzled her leg. “You okay, Wilma?”

“I just . . . damn, that hurt!” Eyes closed, she rested her forehead gently against the wall, feeling a sheet of paper attached there, waiting for the pounding ache in her head to fade. Eventually, she opened her eyes, and jumped back when she saw sand pouring right in front of her.

“What is this?” she wondered. Distracted from the pain, she ran a finger over the hourglass image. It still felt like paper, but the sand in the hourglass was very clearly flowing from the top to the bottom.

Then she read the poster.

“Wait a minute, ‘Tash.’ That’s that god from Narnia Ilcharheen believes in, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yep!” Alfajiri leaped up in excitement. “Tash the Inexorable! Ilcharheen says he’s pretty cool!”

“And he’s one of the gods doing concerts? No, there’s no way that’s a coincidence. That has to be Ilcharheen, right?”

Alfajiri gasped and his pupils dilated to a hilarious degree. “Of course, yeah!”

Wilma tapped a finger on the poster again. “Tash—ugh! I mean, Ilcharheen is doing a concert later today. Small Auditorium. All right.” She narrowed her eyes and said quietly, “Okay, ‘Tash.’ Let’s find out just how inexorable you and your music really are.” She paused. “Alfajiri, what does ‘inexorable’ mean?”

---

2nd

Hunkered down near the back wall of the Small Auditorium, Alfajiri and Wilma witnessed both Tash’s concert, as well as the confrontation that followed between her, the Ellimist, and two humans. (At least, it appeared to only be two humans to them; they were too far away to hear the different inflections between Julian and Estrid.)

And when Tash erupted upwards into a massive specter, they hunkered down even lower.

Alfajiri was trembling. “What do we do, Wilma? This is so bad! Ilcharheen isn’t acting like herself at all! How will we turn her back?”

Wilma stared at the colossal monster. Saving Ilcharheen was pretty far from her mind, at this point—not that she could tell Alfajiri that. “I’m. Uh. Thinking.” She traced a hand lightly over the anti-music symbol on her shirt. We turn the diamonds back into coal. Finally, she said, “I have an idea. Once we can sneak out of here, we need to find an RC no one’s using. And I need to do some research.”

---

1 . . .

“Welp, gosh, here I am, a desert-dwelling carnivore that feasts on carrion, very thematically appropriate to any sand-themed death gods from desert nations.” Alfajiri paced back and forth in a corridor that contained the former RCs of the Wrecked Music Department. “It’s such a shame there aren’t any such gods around right now, since I totally know the best desert in the multiverse, and I was about to visit! Sure would be nice to bring a desert god along with meeeee . . .” He trailed off, and peeked inside the nearby RC whose door was ajar. “I don’t think this is working, Wilma!”

“It has too!” Wilma whispered sharply. She was hiding behind a pile of termite-ruined wood that had once been a bunk bed and storage chest. Aside from the immovable console, the rest of the RC was empty and strangely dim, considering there was no light source to begin with. “The Ironic Overpower is supposed to—oh wait, I think we are doing it wrong. Start saying you don’t want anyone to come with you. That should make it work!”

Alfajiri sighed. “Ilcharheen could be anywhere right now . . .”

“We have to keep trying! It’s not like she’s just going to pop up unexpectedly without any input from us!”

“Thou hast called me into an abandoned response center for some strange reason, Wilma Harrison. Here I am. What hast thou to say?”

Wilma sputtered and spun around. There was Tash, indeed. “Hey, Ilcharheen, long time no see! You’re looking . . . real . . . different! In those clothes! How have you been?”

“I am no longer Ilcharheen. Ilcharheen is ended.” She shuffled a bit though, because . . . that wasn’t quite right, was it? Ilcharheen’s story wouldn’t end for a long time . . . yet how could that be, if Tash was here now, and Tash was Inevitable?

“Ilcharheen, please . . .” whined Alfajiri, padding into the room. “We miss you, and we want you to come back!”

Tash flung out her arms, dress swishing around her knees. “Ilcharheen is no more!” she cried, and her hands trembled, because it suddenly didn’t sound true. What was happening?

“Stick to the plan!” Wilma hissed at Alfajiri. To Tash, she said, “Never mind about that! We heard you were into deserts, and we searched the PPC’s records for the best desert there is! Burning hot in the day, freezing cold at night, spiny plants and venomous animals everywhere, and hardly any precipitation. We thought you’d like to visit?”

“Why . . . yes, it sounds excellent.”

“Good, good! I already entered the coordinates, just need to open ‘er up . . .” Wilma backed up towards the wall, leading Tash forwards while pinning Alfajiri in place with a look over Tash’s shoulder. “Here we are, I’ll just hit this button here, and . . . voila!”

The limited practice consoles the students used in school and for the Sprouts opened portals like an anode tv, starting as a point in the center and expanding outwards. But the WMD agents who once used this one had apparently programmed a joke into theirs, as it opened with a string of piano notes, with the generator filling in as the shapes of individual piano keys from top to bottom. Wilma gritted her teeth against the unexpected sound.

“Very well.” Tash stepped closer to the blue glow. Wilma watched her expectantly, not blinking. She heard Alfajiri’s feet moving behind her.

Tash stopped just shy of the portal and frowned. “This is—” But Alfajiri’s shoulder slamming into her back cut her off, and she disappeared into the portal.

Wilma slammed her hand down on the button again, and the portal closed in the same piano keys-style as before. “Yes!” she roared, jumping up and down and pumping her fists in the air. “One down, eleven to go!”

Alfajiri cocked his head. “Wait what? What are you doing? Open the portal back up!”

Wilma froze in mid-hand pump. “Oh. Uh. Slight change to the plan? We’re just going to leave her there for a while, let the Tash parts go away on their own. In the meantime, let’s work on catching the other gods, okay? We’ll check on Ilcharheen again once we get rid of the rest.”

An extremely low-pitched grunt began rolling out of Alfajiri’s throat, as he slowly padded closer to Wilma.

“Whoa, what is that noise? That’s creepy, don’t make that noise at me!”

“You lied,” fumed the hyena cub. “You’re supposed to be helping Ilcharheen! But you’re just trying to lock her out of HQ so she can’t sing any more, huh?”

Wilma scowled. “Well, duh. Hello?” She pointed to her shirt. “This is exactly the kind of thing Mom trained me for. Silence the noise! Turn the hype into hope! Music turns everyone into mindless zombies who can’t think for themselves. You saw it yourself at those concerts!”

“I still have to help my friend!” Alfajiri snarled and leaped forwards.

Wilma screamed, shutting her eyes and wincing against the wall. But all that happened was the sound of a button being smacked, and a lilting piano chord as the portal reopened. Then she screamed again as a tug on her shoe sent her toppling to the floor, and she was dragged across the RC towards the portal. She tried to warn Alfajiri. “Don’t go in there! It’s dangerous!”

But then they were through the portal, on spongy, shifting soil. Trees towered multiple stories over their heads, all twisted into sharp edges and wavering slightly as their trunks and roots continued to spiral and knot before the kids’ eyes. The air reeked of pollens, saps and oils, and everything was wet and hot and slimy like a rainforest. Massive insects wandered endlessly across every visible surface, with a spider the size of a pickup truck hovering a dozen yards away in a massive web, waiting for the insect life to wander too close.

Alfajiri narrowed his eyes at Wilma as she stood up. “This is Tash’s Country?”

“No, that was a lie, too,” Wilma said as she waved hand-sized gnats away from her face. “This is some fantasy forest that’s getting mutated by a magic weapon, so everything is growing out of control. I figured surrounding Ilcharheen with life energy would weaken her Tash powers.”

“Ah, but life and death art connected.” Tash emerged from behind a tree, filth flies swarming around her, though not touching her. “Thou cannot have one without the other. Behold!” She pointed to a tree behind the children.

They looked, and saw a tree just behind the open portal. It was producing fruit at an impossible rate, the flowers swelling into full-bodied green fruits in moments before bursting into juice and dying right on the branch. The ground beneath was littered with sludge, which beetles, ants and flies were greedily swarming over.

“Yes,” Tash continued, “there art much death here. I thank thee for bringing me here.” She made a clawing motion with her outstretched hand and drew it towards her. The sludge began sliding across the floor, prompting Alfajiri and Wilma to scramble across the heaving ground to avoid getting smeared with it.

The sludge rose up to meet Tash, and began coating her body. “And I feel the magic of this forest as well.” Debris began to drift from every direction: feathers and fur and bones, shed skin and dried out exoskeletons, and particles of dirt from untold numbers of previous plants and animals and fungi. “My power grows beyond the reach of the Lion, at last!” All the detritus collected over her, growing into a shifting shell that expanded, more and more, increasing her height. “No longer must I take only the rightful prizes I am allowed! Thou two shall be my first true prey.” She was massive now, towering over them like she had appeared after her concert, but solid rather than smoke. She took a step forward, heavy foot sinking deep into the roiling ground. She boomed out, “Now Tash is the one who declares the end! And all must end!” She reached a massive, fly-swarmed hand for her former classmates, who were both backpedaling towards the portal, eyes locked on Tash.

So that only Tash saw Ananke step out of the glow. And even through her veil, Tash could see the woman was crying. “Yes, Tash, all must end. Even you.” She whispered, but Tash heard her clearly. “I’ll miss you.”

And then Tash was not. Ilcharheen, dozens of feet in the air, began to fall.

Even as she fell, her mind was on the being that had been part of her just a moment ago. “Tash!?” she called out, frantically twisting about, looking for some sign of the deity she had worshipped all her life. “Tash, come back! Tash, help me!”

Then her head landed on an exposed tree root, and everything went dark.

---

0

Ilcharheen had no awareness of her friends dragging her out of the twisted forest, through the generic corridors, into the Medical Department. Her mind was lost in a quiet, dark fog, gently bobbing about with no ability to move or see. “Tash,” she tried to say, but the sound of her own voice was muted, shadowy, almost underwater. But she tried again. “Tash. Wasn’t I good enough? Haven’t I been loyal? Why? Why did you take your power away from me?”

“That power was not for you,” a deep voice rumbled. It wasn’t muted at all, but rang clear and strong in Ilcharheen’s ears&mdashif, indeed, it was her ears doing the listening at all.

“Where are you?” She tried to turn, to roll over, but it was like she was dreaming, and couldn’t get herself to move properly. “Please, Tash, come to me! Help me!”

“You’re all right now,” said the voice, and something brushed against Ilcharheen. Immediately, she felt stronger, and reached to grab the furry . . . no, not fur, feathers, of course it was feathers! The feathers of Tash the Inexorable!

She snuggled into the feathers, buried her face in the fluff, and felt so much more secure. “Thank you, Tash.” Her voice was even more muffled now, drifting further from herself than before. “I knew you wouldn’t really abandon me.”

“Never in this world, nor the next.” The owner of the voice wrapped a great arm around Ilcharheen, and she was surprised to discover that Tash’s clawlike bird hands were quite warm and gentle. Her consciousness began to drift . . .

She never quite heard the deep voice say, “Yes, sleep now, Daughter of Eve. You deserve a long rest.”

---

((Just to explain that forest near the end: that's Krosa from Magic: the Gathering, during a period when a magic-enhancing device called the Mirari was pumping magic straight into the forest floor, leading to Consequences for the life there. I know it's kind of a weird curveball to throw into the RP, but it seemed like a logical train of thought for Wilma to take in trying to negate a death god's power, and Mirari-infected Krosa is just about the most "lively" place I know of in fiction.))

—doctorlit, only now realizing how hilarious it might have been if someone had selected the Ironic Overpower as one of the gods

Title: Sexy Times With Jieyuan
Author: Lilith Wydenbrooke
Pairing: Jacques Bonnefoy/Liu Siyuan
Rating: NC-17 ((actually more like PG-15 lol))
Warnings/Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Content Warnings, Pancakes, Maple Syrup, Inappropriate Use of Food, I'm bad at tagging, I'm bad at summaries, Bottom Liu Siyuan, Top Liu Siyuan, Top Jacques Bonnefoy, Bottom Jacques Bonnefoy, Closet Renovations, Marie Kondo, Body Hair, Waxing, Baby Dolphins, Narnia, Internet Searches, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Naughty Student, Corporal Punishment, Miette, Haddocks, The Knights Who Say Ni, Monty Python Jokes, Mangoes, Horses, Business Practices, Corporations, Office Setting, Princess Carrying, Swooning, Resurrection, Selfcest, Clones, Catboys, Catboy Liu Siyuan, ((there will be more tags as I add more chapters, I am so sorry hS))
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin: Jieyuan having fun times together. Don’t think too much about the details! -wink-
Notes: YAOI! DON’T LIEK, DON’T READ! ALSO I’M SO MAD THAT CHRISTIANNE AND ELEDHWEN GOT MARRIED!11!! ELEDHWEN IS 2 GUD 4 CHRISTIAENEN WHO IS JUST A BITHC I CANT BELIEVE SHE GOT A TRJECK BACKSTORY TO MAKE ELEDHWN FEEL BAD 4 HER WHEN SHE IZ DA ABUSEER!1! IM NEVER RITING 4 THEM AGAIN!!11 >:(

---

Sexy Times With Jieyuan

Chapter One: For The Love of Maple Syrup

It was just another morning at the Protector of Plot Continuum headquarters. Liu Siyuan watched Jacques tuck into his pancakes with a fond smile. The pancakes were perfectly fluffy, made from the right combination of flour and butter and eggs and baking powder. The maple syrup was harvested from only the finest of maple trees in Canada.

“Do you like your pancakes, Jacques?” wondered Liu Siyuan.

Jacques waggled his eyebrows. “They’re perfectly fluffy.” he said. “I like them very much.”

“Good,” declared Liu Siyuan, whipping off his apron to reveal he was not wearing anything underneath. He grabbed the bottle of maple syrup freshly harvested from Canada, and poured it down his chest. “Would you like to have me next?”

---

“And this,” said Jacques Bonnefoy smugly as he watched his friend scroll down the tablet, “is an example of a functional creativity shield.”

Liu Siyuan raised an eyebrow at Jacques from over the tablet. “This is an example of a spring palace novel about our lives,” he stated.

“Yes, but the fact that I’m not licking maple syrup off your chest right now is proof that the creativity shield around FanficLand is working,” Jacques winked at him, as if to suggest he would probably be down to do so if Liu Siyuan bothered to ask. “What do you think, though?”

“Of the spring palace novel?” wondered Liu Siyuan, his brows now knitting together. He scrolled a little further. “This is all the same sex scene?”

“Yep.” Jacques accentuated the ‘p’. “Seems accurate?”

Liu Siyuan’s entire expression wrinkled. “I decline to answer that question.”

---

“I was cleaning out your closet the other day,” said Liu Siyuan later after hours of lovemaking, as he traced patterns down Jacques’ chest. Jacques needed to wax his chest. He was getting a little too hairy. Liu Siyuan liked it much more when Jacques’ chest was as smooth as baby dolphins. But it didn’t really matter, because Jacques was perfect no matter what amount of body hair he had. “I found something very strange.”

“Did you find Narnia?” asked Jacques.

“Worse,” said Liu Siyuan. “I found your internet browsing history.”

Jacques’ cheeks flushed plum blossom pink. “Siyuan, I respect you very much and would never do any of the things—”

He was cut off by Liu Siyuan kissing him. “I want to do all of the things with you,” he said.

“Okay!” said Jacques happily.

---

“Why would it matter to me what amount of body hair you possess?” wondered Liu Siyuan as he paused in his scrolling to boggle at this scene. “Also… baby dolphins? Do adult dolphins not have smooth skin?”

“It’s a turn of phrase,” said Jacques. “And for the record, getting your chest as ‘smooth as baby dolphins’ is pretty painful, if you’re using wax.”

“Wax,” echoed Liu Siyuan. “Like… from candles?”

Jacques laughed. “No, not really. Don’t use candle wax on your body, like, ever.”

“Thank you,” said Liu Siyuan, puzzled. “I have no idea when I would ever be in a scenario where I would want to, but… thank you.”

Jacques shrugged. “I mean, you never know. It could have been in my internet browsing history.”

“Why would I want to check your… browsing history?” Liu Siyuan shook his head. “I do not need to invade your privacy in order to figure out that your tastes run more eclectic than my own.”

That earned him a chuckle. “Touché,” said Jacques. “Read on. Apparently ‘all of the things’ starts with some light teacher-student roleplay.”

---

“You spank Liu-laoshi?” gasped the cultivator in mock horror. “You pull his hair like the blushing schoolgirl? Oh! Oh! Detention for Jacques! Detention for Jacques for the next seventeen hours!”

“Oh really?” asked naughty schoolboy Jacques, clambering onto the teacher’s desk and pulling Liu Siyuan forward by his sexy blue-green tie. “And how are you going to punish me in detention, Liu-laoshi?”

Liu Siyuan responded by kissing his student, who responded by opening his eager pink boy mouth like a ripe blossom —

---

“I never want to see the phrase ‘eager pink boy’ ever again,” said Liu Siyuan, throwing the tablet down on the sofa with a horrified shudder. “I feel as if I need to take a shower now, and I have not even read the worst of the sex scenes.”

“What a coincidence. I also need to take a shower.” Jacques winked.

“You are as incorrigible as the Jacques in this story.” Liu Siyuan shook his head. “This Lilith Wydenbrooke has captured your shamelessness perfectly.”

Jacques pouted at him. “Hey!”

Liu Siyuan grabbed the tablet and lightly bopped him on the head with it in a way that he could only have picked up from Dawn McKenna, before reluctantly (and with clear Morbid Curiosity in his eyes) continuing to scroll through the fic.

---

“No!” gasped Liu Siyuan. “You can’t do that—you’ll die! Or even worse, you’ll be stranded in the Void forever and I won’t ever be able to find you!”

“If that’s what it takes,” said Jacques, pausing just to kiss his cultivator one last time, “then it’s worth it. You are worth fighting for.”

Liu Siyuan swooned into Jacques’ arms like a distressed damsel. “Oh, Jacques, take me now!” he begged, ripping his robes open. Jacques picked him up into a princess carry.

“Of course,” he said, with another kiss. “Just one more for the road.”

---

“Oh, that was unexpected.” Liu Siyuan frowned. “When did it get serious?”

“This fic has the pacing of a low-budget soap opera,” said Jacques. “I honestly have no idea. Maybe somewhere around the time our in-fic selves decided to start a business called Jieyuan Co. Ltd.?”

“We start a business?” Liu Siyuan’s brows furrowed deeper.

“Yeah, apparently it gets bigger than the twenty-first century Kerblam, whats-its-name, Dauntless? Open Sesame?”

“I have no idea,” confessed Liu Siyuan. “Again, I feel as if I need cultural annotations for every other sentence people say to me here.”

Jacques chuckled. “I remember that feeling all too well. Anyway, keep reading, you haven’t even gotten to the unhinged part yet.”

---

When Jacques opened his eyes again, the first face he saw was Liu Siyuan’s. “Siyuan!” he gasped, clambering into a sitting position. Liu Siyuan pushed him back down, kissing him.

“You’re still hurt,” said the cultivator, “and should relax.”

“I’m fine! The immortality thing sorta resets me, you know,” said Jacques, but he kissed back nonetheless, his hands coming up to cup the sides of Liu Siyuan’s face. Liu Siyuan pulled back with a sigh, before turning and shouting:

“A-Wang! Yuanyuan! Sect Leader Liu! Jacques is awake again!”

Almost immediately, a younger version of Liu Siyuan with short cropped hair and an ESAS t-shirt came running in. “Jacques!” he said happily. “You’re okay! We missed you lots and lots!”

Just behind him was a slightly older Liu Siyuan with his short hair in a white-to-black-ombre. He had cat ears on his head and they twitched. “It’s good to see nya awake~” purred the cat boy, his tail flicking happily. “Yuanyuan has missed master very myach.”

And then finally, another set of arms wrapped around Jacques from behind, and a pair of lips pressed themselves against his ear. “I am gratified to see you alive and well again, Jieke,” drawled a dulcet sexy low voice, and when Jacques turned to see who it belonged to, he saw the face of Liu Siyuan as a legendary immortal beauty, the cold and refined Sect Leader of Liuying Valley. His hair was done up with an elaborate silver and jade hairpiece in the shape of a crane, and his robes were in the finest of blue-green and white silks.

The original Liu Siyuan squeezed his hand. “We were all so concerned for you this time. It was the combined power of our love that brought you back from the Great Void. We hope you will not be so reckless with yourself in the future.”

“You have all of us to choose from!” added the youngest Liu Siyuan. “A-Wang hopes Jacques will take it easy and let us pamper him!”

Jacques couldn’t help but grin as he stroked his hand through A-Wang’s hair. “Of course. Where do I begin?”

---

Liu Siyuan closed the tablet and set it down on the coffee table, wide-eyed. Jacques raised an eyebrow at him.

“Unhinged, right?” he asked.

“That door certainly is missing a few hinges,” agreed Liu Siyuan, folding his hands in his lap. “Three copies of myself?”

Jacques raised his other eyebrow. “That’s the strange part for you?”

Liu Siyuan looked at him sharply. “That’s not?” he demanded.

“Well, there is a Mirror Multiverse, for one,” said Jacques, “and the Transfictional Canonical Defence Authority, and a bunch of other alternate timelines and parallel timelines and whatnot. I’ll even bet good money that there’s some wuxia-style Plot Protection Sect now that you’re around.”

Liu Siyuan stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. Jacques chuckled at him.

“Look, last year I might have gotten caught in a couple weak spots between alternate universes, and I… might have met some alternate versions of myself.”

Liu Siyuan’s expression seemed to suggest he was tacking on a third head. Jacques laughed and shook his head.

“It’s not that serious, I promise. We mostly leave each other alone. But you know, now that you’re involved in my life, you might also end up with a couple… alternate timelines of your own.”

“This tells me you have already met some of these alternate mes,” said Liu Siyuan, his eyes narrowing.

Jacques snorted. “If they’re alternate versions of you, are they really worth the vinegar?”

Liu Siyuan huffed. “What makes you think I am jealous of them?” he wondered drily, before crossing his arms and adding, “Which ones have you met?”

“Aah, I think… the one called A-Wang in the fic,” said Jacques, rubbing his temples. “And the sect leader one. Haven’t seen the catboy one. Yet.”

Liu Siyuan shuddered. “Thank heavens that was all,” he said, nodding at the tablet.

Jacques shook his head. “Siyuan, ah, that’s exactly how you incur the wrath of the Ironic Overpower!”

---

((Lilith Wydenbrooke and her hacker are back in business, everybody!

ETA: Eledhwen, Christianne, Dis, the Agent, and Liu Siyuan are fair game for badfic (though I would be pretty amused to see anyone try to write LSY with him appearing in exactly 1 thing so far). Jacques is being used here with the knowledge (and general morbid amusement) of Zingenmir.))

Never heard of Jaycacia before, but she seems like a chill person. Pretty melancholic and thinking and suchlike. She feels like a solid character, basically. Maybe I'm wrong, I dunno. Don't take my word as law, please - writing was never my strong suit.

Louie says hi, by the way.

-Carolina

As I said, only skimmed the wiki for half these guys. Y'gatha was right on the front of the discussion page, so I thought she was a big part of HQ or something. But yeah, looking back on it? Doesn't look very Agent-y, now that I think about it. Not enough subtlety.

Oh well. Next chapter should have more actual Agent fellows. Sorry for any confusion.

-Carolina

Here’s your mini snek with a hat! How about you tell us about yourself? What fandoms are you into?

(It’s up to interpretation, I guess)

Vioven reporting for duty. Uh- hi!

though I'd perfer one withhe hottest GIRLS on it obsicousl.

Can't wait to find out who youre partner is! I cant' guess at all!

but I thinkg you're in posted it ni the rowng section?? Bcasue Yagatha Mesome doesn't sounds like a PPC agentm to me you know?!

maybe shceck your settings or somthing.

get it cuz it's like FanGirl but im all about the FUN? I am FUNGIRL. GET IT?

omg i cant believe it's that time of year! im so excited! Im digging up an oldie but a goodie haha and i have NEVAR posted anything anywhere befor so BE NICE ok?

Title: an all lower-case song lyric title(with some parenthesis)

Pairing: hS/Reader porbably lol spoilers i guess

Summary: My mother SOLD me to the PPC?!?!?!??!

Chatper 1: Beginnenings

[BEEEEEEEEEEP COME ON Y/N I SAID BEEEEEEEEP]

Groaning you rolled out of your bed and tried to remember were you were. oh right. you were at the PPC because your terrible mother had sold you to the PPC because she couldnt pay the bills because she was an alcolic.

FLASHBACK

“Y/N!!!” mom screeched like an angry owl. “get out of bed!!! you lazy!!! girl!!!”

Groaning you rolled out of your bed and put your naturally blonde with blonde highlights hair up in a messy bun and then you put on your biggest hoodie that said PPC Protectors of teh Plot Continum on it and it had all of the hottest guys on it like Hinesoron and some others. The hoodie was way too big on you cuz your too skinny and everyone hates you but you also look so pretty when you have just woken up though you are like barely aware of it. you went down to breakfast and there was mom still super mad but you werent even late so you dint know why.

“y r u so mad?” you asked and mom thrw a piece of toast at your face like a shurken.

“don’t disrespect your elders!!!” she scremed. “you are so lazy and rude!!! I cant have you in the house nemore!!! I am selling you to the PPC!!!!”

“what” you cried tears streaming down your face from your orbs that were sparkling with tears.

“they will straighten you out an no mistake!!! and they are paying a hefty sum might I add!!! this will buy me a lot of booz and also drugs!!!”

You couldnt believe that your mom was selling you to the PPC for drug money. but it was true! You thought you could run away from it but she made you pack a bag so you took your big duffle bag and you put all of your clothes that were black and all your potted plants (you love potted plants for some raisin) and a poster of Hs wearing a golden cape and your stationary computer and eighteen books. you loved to read because you were not like other girls that were all about make-up but you were still naturally so much prettier than them.

Mom called you down again. You took one last look at your room and crid some more then you took your bag and left. There was someone new in the kitchen and mom was counting hundreds in piles and piles on the table.

“hi” said the sunflower official thtat was there. “i have herd a lot of good things about you Y/N. Are you ready to become an assassni?”

END FLASHBACK

So here you are about to get a mission. BUT. Who is your PARTNER?!?!?! FIND OUT

(since i am only 14 if you are mean to me in comments I am callin the FBI! it is my FIRST FANFIC)

((Hello, this is Ekwy. And this was so much fun, but the second person POV scrambled my brain. I never played with writing badfic with my agents back in the day, but Blank, Ekwy, Moira and anyone else is totally up for grabs!))

... or is it the words 'no' and 'one' being forced to mate and produce Sueish words? -Claire, who probably has an overactive imagination))

Ellie Mae Rosebud walked down the hallwaies off PPCs HQ with her long luxurious gold felcked black hair swaying back and forth wit her movement and crystalline tears falling down her porcelain cheeks. She was an assasin in the DMS and loved to kill teh Sues. It was fun! But her boss the meanie SO said she couldnt use her super special fire powers anymore and that made her really real sad cause she loved using her speshul fire powrs. She wondered if the pyro department woould appreciate her really awesome powers an her good looks. She totally wasn’t a Sue despite being super pretty and havin teh cool fire powers tho cause Zues are bad and Ellke was good. Suddenly their was a huge crash in front of her and a mysteryious thing stood up!!11!!1 Oh noes! What could teh thing be? Is it a friend or a foe?! Find out in the next chapter! R&R pls!

(OOC: I both love and hate how easy writing like this is. Ack.)

(Author’s Note: Hello y’all, Louie Carolole’s older sib here. Louie’s unfortunately suffering burnout at the moment, but he was real insistent I help him crank something out for this group. I feel he’s grown attached to the community, and all that. Anyway, I think it’s nice he finally found a good place to express his imagination, and I’ve tried to be supportive of him the last few years. Wouldn’t be a good sister if I didn’t, eh?

So. This bit of writing's technically from me, I guess, so I’ll change up the name a bit to suit. Ideas are from him, but actual translation into understandable words are from me. To be honest, though, the only knowledge I have of this canon is from the wiki, so don’t expect characterization masterpieces.

So yeah. Hope you understand, and I hope y’all enjoy the piece.

-Lou Carole)

(Disclaimer - Homestuck, Y’gatha Mesome’s home continuum, belongs to Andrew Hussie. Y’gatha herself belongs to that one aspiring artist on the wiki’s Discussion page, whoever owns the throwaway account of No1r413. World One belongs to whoever or whatever created World One, a topic that is still hotly debated by World One-ers to this day. The PPC belongs to Acacia and Jay, wherever they are. The Emergencies referenced belong to those who created them in the first place, though I’m not entirely certain who they were. Pokemon belongs to Gamefreak and I guess Nintendo. The Cthulhu Mythos belong to H. P. Lovecraft. I only own the characters of the half-flesh robot, Mr. Matterhorn, and Torchic 04.)

(Content Warning: Contains cooking with fire, chopping with knives, zombie-robots, metal limbs popping off, a reference to a very Not-Safe-For-FourMoons character, large Homestuck bug aliens, and ligma.)

“Pew pew pew! Y’gatha Mesome obliterates your entire fun sucking wet blanket continuum with her muse of all aspects powers!”

Y’gatha Mesome grinned, baring glitter-caked fangs at the two unfortunate souls in front of her. Her insectoid wings buzzed loudly as she hovered ominously in mid-air, and her pupiless eyes glowed with an ever-changing array of light. The raw power of a Muse of All Aspects flickered around her claws, and her smile grew wider as she thought of the fear she was causing the sad mooks in front of her.

Neither soul gave her more than a sidelong glance.

The older one, an overweight, elderly man with more wrinkles than a crumpled tuxedo in a dog park and a graying beard flecked with unidentifiable meat, raised an eyebrow.

Y’gatha stared at the two as they shuffled around their strange little working area, pulling glittering meat from wooden boxes and moving them around and chopping and slicing and generally doing Cafeteria work without a care in the world. This didn’t please Y’gatha very much, and she cleared her throat.

”Pew pew pew-”

The older worker slammed the cleaver they were slicing with down with a loud thunk and spun his head around to stare at her.

“What is it?” he asked.”Surely you can wait a little, eh? Souffle won’t be ready ‘til lunch hour.”

The younger worker, a scrawny but comically top-heavy woman with metal where some of her skin should’ve been and rotting, sinewy muscle where the metal wasn’t, poured a few drops of Bleeprin onto a tray of meatloaf and started spreading it with a rubber spatula.

“To be fair, lunch break doesn’t really… exist around here. Time is weird, and all that.” She idly scratched the pair of dry, raggedy rodent ears on the top of her head with a metallic claw. “But still. Main courses aren’t ready yet.”

Y’gatha looked from one worker to the other, slowly feeling like she wasn’t being taken seriously.

”Y’gatha is not here for souffle,” she proclaimed, drawing herself up. ”Y’gatha is here to obliterate your entire fun sucking wet-blanket-”

The older worker clicked his tongue loudly. “You said that already,” he remarked, chopping at a stick of butter. “Can’t go attracting the ire of the Department of Redundancy Department now, eh? Ho! Ho! Ho!”

“Besides,” added the younger worker. “You’re already a bit iffy on that front to begin with. There’s been a lot of people wanting to destroy HQ before, from what I’ve heard, so this almost seems repetitive.” She picked up the tray of meatloaf and walked over to the oven.

The older man tilted up his chopping board, sliding his sliced butter into a small bowl, chuckling as he did so. “I’ll say. But hey, at least it’s something, eh? Normally work’s boring as all get-out, so anything’s a nice change of pace.” He picked up a few shakers of salt, pepper, and black glitter and began sprinkling it into the bowl.

He adjusted his glasses and turned to the other worker. “Take for example, Slorp. You remember Slorp?”

”Slorp?” hissed Y’gatha, striding forward and standing in front of the old man, arms crossed. ”What is Slorp, and what does it have to do with Y’gatha’s story?”

The younger worker slid her tray of meatloaf into the oven and slammed the door shut, before tapping away at the timer. A whip-like, hairless tail awkwardly poking out from the back of her uniform twitched slightly, sending flakes of dead skin floating to the ground. “Don’t remind me,” she said. “I was cleaning meat out of my wires for weeks after that.”

“And we were cleaning your limbs out of the meat! Ho! Ho! Ho!” The man casually sidestepped Y’gatha and opened up a drawer.

“...Yeah, and that. Made the cleaning a lot harder than it should have been, let me tell you that.”

”Y’gatha-” Y’gatha tried again, but neither Cafeteria worker seemed to be listening anymore.

The older agent chuckled again as he pulled out a whisk and began churning the spiced butter. “But believe me, it was worse before then. Were you there when the Macroviruses showed up?”

The younger agent blinked, stepping away from the oven. “Um. I don’t think so, no.” She headed over to a large refrigerator, pulling out a few containers.

The old man nodded. “Well, believe me, it was a wild time back there! Ho! Ho! Ho! Giant bugs, sister. Giant bugs. They crawled into people and did giant evil bug things and generally made a mess of everything. Lots of chaps died.” He pulled out a jar of sugar and began heavily coating the top of the butter mix.

“I almost died!” he continued with a grin. “Ho! Ho! Ho! And when that was over, the Sue Factories invaded!”

He put the jar (which for whatever reason had transformed into a bag) of sugar to the side and picked up a bird-creature passing by. “Oh, hello there. Torchic, Ember.” The small orange chicken-thing in his hands obliged, shooting a burst of fire at the sugared butter.

The rat-like younger worker blinked again. “Ah, was that when-” She shot a sidelong glance at Y’gatha. “Erm. Hey, how good are you at keeping secrets?”

Y’gatha scowled. “Y’gatha will obliterate-”

“Yeah, good enough.” She turned back to the old man. “That’s when I started working here, right?”

The man laughed. “Ho! Ho! Ho! In a sense, yes.” He turned to Y’gatha with a conspiratory grin. “One of the Sues there, she was. Don’t even know if she ever got sent for a de-glittering session or nothing. Ho!”

The Torchic in his hands started squirming a bit, so the man put it down. “Ah, yes. Good Pokey-man.” He patted it lightly on the head. “Good work, here.”

The Torchic took a moment to proudly puff out its chest, displaying the tiny bird-sized pore fungus flash patch taped to its feathers, before spinning on its heel(?) and trotting off.

The younger woman pursed her lips. “Right. Not that it matters, of course. Nobody seemed to mind me working here, and I’m frankly fine with it. Better than soldiering, at least. Limbs come off less frequently, too.” As if on cue, on of her arms popped off with a metallic click and fell to the floor in a sad heap of rotten flesh and rusted metal.

“...Screw you, Ironic Overpower.”

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” boomed the old man, adjusting his inch-thick glasses.

”Excuse me, Y’gatha is still important!” shouted Y’gatha. Neither agent reacted.

The younger worker bent over and picked up her disembodied arm before roughly jamming it back in place with a sound that was a combination of wet meat squelching and the hair-raising screech of metal on metal. “Anyway,” she said. “Could you pass the sugar?”

“Ah, sure. Sorry about that, I’m just finding everything dreadfully funny today. Ho! Ho!” The man picked up the jar of sugar and tossed it across the kitchen. It nearly clocked Y’gatha in the head, and she ducked away, hissing.

“Thanks.” The younger woman caught the jar in one metal claw and set it next to a carton of milk and a packet of table salt.

“So,” she added, pouring some sugar into a bowl. “Y’gatha, was it? What’re you here for, again? Where’re you from?”

Y’gatha pulled herself fully upright. "Y'gatha is from the Discussion page on your Wiki, here to obliterate your entire fun sucking wet blanket continuum! You utter buffoons do not even know you are but puppets under control of-"

She was interrupted by a glob of butter being flung onto her face.

"Nope!" the old man said with a grin, swinging a large measuring spoon by his side as Y’gatha hissed and began wiping off her face with her claws. "Not doing another Swan Song, thank you very much. One was enough!"

“Don't know what you're talking about, but I fully agree. Fourth wall breaking’s a real touchy subject, especially here of all places.” The younger worker mixed in the packet of table salt and a pinch of cornstarch, before unscrewing the lid of the milk carton. “So. Y'gatha. Before you go to try and blow up the place, how about you get to know the people a little? I promise they’re a lot better than they seem at first.”

The old man chuckled. “Believe me, I know. Ho! Ho! Ho!”

The woman continued. “It doesn’t have to start with violence, you know? Talk to people. Explore the place. Maybe take a look around before you raze it all to the ground. Besides, who knows? You might even wind up attached a bit.”

“Hold up, where are our manners?” said the old man. “We never even introduced ourselves!” His gray, raggedy beard twitched as he grinned, and he held out a glitter-and-blood-stained hand. “Ligma B. Matterhorn, at your service! Well met, and ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn! Ho! Ho! Ho!”

He gestured over to the younger worker, who had gone to mixing at her bowl of ambiguously-edible Cafeteria slime. “The anime ratgirl over there is Koratta Tesso. Don’t mind the rusty metal bits and rotting flesh, she still has more soul than a good amount of folk I’ve met here! Ho! Ho! Ho!”

“Lies and slander,” Tesso deadpanned, pouring the off-white slime from the bowl into a saucepan. “Anyways, welcome to the PPC, enjoy your stay while you can.”

Y’gatha blinked, horribly confused and feeling angry. These idiots weren’t giving her the attention she craved, the respect she deserved with her powers, they weren’t scared or-

Of course.

They weren’t Agents, that had to be the issue! The conflict between Sues and the PPC always seemed to revolve around Assassins and Disentanglers and Floaters and the like, not background extras like Cafeteria workers.

Y’gatha grinned. It was time to find some real targets.

The old man raised an eyebrow at her. “So. You staying for the souffle, or…”

Y’gatha cackled, wings buzzing louder as she raised herself off the ground. ”No souffle!” she screeched. ”Y’gatha is off! Y’gatha is powerful! Y’gatha will be respected!”

In an act of spite, she raised a hand and fired a bolt of multicolored energy into the kitchen, blasting several prepared dishes and containers of ingredients to pieces. She cackled again as her eyes glowed bright, lighting up the walls like a disco ball.

“Pew pew pew! Y’gatha Mesome obliterates your entire fun sucking wet blanket continuum with her muse of all aspects powers!” she roared one last time, before blasting out of the kitchen, out of the Cafeteria, into the halls of HQ, leaving behind only the echoing of her mad laughter.

The two cafeteria workers stood in silence for a bit.

“Well, then,” the older one said, shrugging. “Back to work, I suppose.” He picked up his bowl of freshly-made butter-and-glitter crème brûlée and put it to the side.

The younger one sighed. “She didn’t even say goodbye.” Her tail flicked in agitation, and a few more flakes of dead skin scattered off. “Rather rude, even for a Sue.”

“Eh.” The old man shrugged and pulled out a jar of Bleeprin, scattering some pills into a measuring spoon. “Could’ve been worse, as far as big dramatic shenanigans go. Could’ve been another Key to Canon thing, or another Swan Song.” He tumbled the pills into a small baking tray and dumped a tub of cookie dough on top of them, ignoring the splotches that flew out of the pan and into his beard.

“I… I don’t know what those are, but alright.” The younger worker bent down and started picking up the broken glass and shards of metal scattered from Y’gatha’s energy blast. She looked up at the old man. “Anyways, should we just pretend this never happened?”

“I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about. Ho! Ho! Ho!”

---

((Welp. Guess this is happening again. Anyways!

This badfic was actually spawned from a combination of midnight delirium and my natural lack of ability to piece together a long-term story. I just... kinda let loose and let the sleep-deprived writing muse take the reigns for this one.

So, hope y'all like it. Or hate it, which would probably be better for a badfic games piece. Signing off.

-OrangeFox))

Hey! I installed Grammarly now! My sentences should be better (hopefully)!

I hoping to follow someone's steps and make a gacha story involving, guess who?, O'Ryan Keys! Maybe with Attikus. I heard Kittyauthor talking about him...

Anyhow, I'm K1tK@t. I love weird and niche fandoms! They're my specialty :)

-K1tK@t

---

Once again, I ask that no one use Kittyauthor in their badfic. She's way too close to me for me to be comfortable with her use, I'm sorry.

Other characters I have? Go for it. I love to see O'Ryan ruined badfic of my agents :)

Have fun!

-kA, who needs to both write the fanfic of the day and write badfic sometime this month.

A/n: kk so like i said on my porfile iv'e matured alot as a wirter these patlst few years.. I wont' be deliting the old Jaycacia sotries but I wantto make them mor groundes from now no. Also myg irlfriend betad thus so DONT' BE MEAN!!!

Um and the chaptre tittle dousn't mean content, but content, you gt it?

~

It all seemed like something of a bad dream.

She had died. She had discovered her mother (Jay) was not her mother, but PPC HQ was really her mother (or actually father). Her not-mother's love for her lover (the SO) had brought her back to life. She had killed her other mother (Acacia) and only been saved by the power of her lovers' love (her not-mother was also her lover then). She had become the Starflower, defeated the evil Sub Rosa and her Spies, and died again. She had been resurrected by Illian (not as the Starflower any more), and through Lux's black magickckck had been wrought pregnant with PPC HQ (the father was the SO). She had found out that Lux had maybe lied, and that her evil mother (Acacia) was actually the Avatar's baby with a badfic. She had failed to stop the Avatar getting pregnant, but then it was okay because they tied Acacia up and didn't let her out unless she agreed to be good. She had founded a PPC OFU, defeated the evil fangirls, and then shut the OFU down again because it wasn't needed any more.

Jaycacia Thornbyrd had never wanted any of that. She had just wanted to be the best agent in the PPC, and to have a nice loving family in which nobody tried to kill her (except Mary Sues of course). And now, finally… she could.

She had separated from her husband, the Sunflower Official. They still loved one another, but they had mutually agreed that the head of the PPC and his best agent probably shouldn't be in a relationship - it didn't set the right example. Similarly, while she still loved Jay, it had mellowed into something close to what they had originally had: the love of a daughter for her mother, in action if not in blood. They lived together in Jay's Response Center, Room F - with Jay's partner, Acacia Byrd.

Yes, Acacia, the Department of Fictional Psychology's greatest triumph. Somehow, the psychologists had managed to draw out all her evil, malevolence, nastiness, and wickedness and transfer it to a pumpkin. The pumpkin, glowing purple-black and vibrating with rage, was placed in a steel box and buried in the BBQ Courtyard; Acacia was sent back to her RC. She still wasn't nice - what, were they going to take the pumpkin's niceness and put it into her? - but she was… tolerable. Like a big sister going through her Goth Grump phase, Jaycacia often thought.

Jaycacia had very little work to do, for the SO had agreed that her great powers should only be employed for really bad fanfic. Most of the time, she was able to wander around the city in Caledonia, gazing up at the snow-capped mountains and eating haggis to the sound of bagpipes. When that grew tiring (as bagpipes will), she was able to retreat into the cool, quiet corridors of PPC HQ. The spirit that inhabited the vast building, her child-parent, didn't often speak to her, but she felt comforted by the knowledge of its presence.

For the first time in forever, Jaycacia Thornbyrd was… content.

~

Acacia Byrd didn't look round. "The PPC… they've got a fire-themed department now, haven't they?"

Jay stepped up beside her and watched the growing pillar of smoke rise over Imperial Rome. "I think they're more about setting the fires than putting them out."

"Pity." Acacia sighed. "I liked that neighbourhood. I mean, we got all our stuff out - portals are still pretty handy - but now they'll replace it with expensive domūs or shoddy insulae that'll just burn down again."

"Checks out." Jay glanced at her friend's face, flickering in the distant firelight. "You said 'we'."

"Yes." Acacia seemed about to say more, but then her eyes narrowed. "It's been a while since I've seen you."

"Oh, you know me." Jay waved a hand through the air. "Busy, busy like a mumblebee-"

"Jay."

"All right, yes, she's back." Jay pulled a sheet of paper out of her pocket. She kept her eyes on it as she unfolded it, avoiding Acacia's gaze. "But it's not as bad as normal."

"I bet it is."

"Bet what?" Jay blinked. "Oh - figure of speech, right?"

Acacia grimaced, and reached out to pluck the page from Jay's compulsively-smoothing fingers. "That depends on exactly how bad it is…"

---

((Sometimes I just feel the need to write out all Jaycacia's adventures, to convince myself that I actually wrote them… ~hS))