Posts Tagged ‘radioactive moss creature’

Because time in HQ can be very wonky indeed, the Radioactive Moss Creature was already at the Nursery, waiting for him. It was talking to an elderly lady with her hair in a bun. She turned and smiled at Mittens, then she cooed at Elisabeth, who giggled back and made happy spit bubbles.

“Shall I put you down as her legal guardian?” asked the lady and took the baby from Mittens.

“Uh, I’m not sure if …” he began.

“You won’t have to adopt her or raise her, but it would be a kind gesture. It will be nice for the girl to know that someone cares about her.”

Miss MacKinnon,” said the RMC firmly, “I appreciate that you are thinking about what’s best for the children, but it’s not nice of you to try to emotionally blackmail my partner. He is not responsible for the child.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I would like to come visit,” said Mittens. “That is, if I may?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful.” Miss MacKinnon beamed a smile at them. “And have you thought about a name?”

“A name?” asked the RMC.

“Well, she can’t go on being named Winchester and since she’s so young, we can change her first name also.”

“I haven’t got any ideas,” said the RMC. “Never really saw the purpose of names, myself. How about you?”

Mittens thought about this. He tried to think of a good girls’ name. Someone he admired. Finally he said: “Ammy, and for her last name, she should be called Moss.” He looked down at the RMC, worried that he might have gone too far, but it just looked bemused.

Miss MacKinnon looked very pleased. “Ammy Moss, a beautiful name. Well, Ammy, I think it’s time for your bottle so wave goodbye to the nice agents.”

Ammy looked thoughtful and stuck her whole hand into her mouth. Then she took it out and made what might have been a waving motion.

Both Mittens and the RMC waved in return, before starting the walk back to RC#170.


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Disclaimer: Supernatural was created by Eric Kripke. The PPC was created by Jay and Acacia; I’m only playing in it. The fanfics ‘Ski Trip‘ and ‘Baby‘ belong to Kit-Kat92 and she can keep them; preferably far away from me. Mittens, the RMC and James are mine.

Rating: T. Fics contain attempted rape and miscarriage, but no details.

”You are back,” said James as soon as Mittens opened the door to RC #170. ”How did it go? Where were you sent?”

”We’ve been transferred to the Department of Improbabilities,” the Radioactive Moss Creature replied. ”It’s …” It was interrupted by the console going BEEEEEEEEP!!

Mittens strode over, hit the button and checked the Intelligence Report. “It’s another Supernatural fic,” he said and frowned. “For no discernible reason, the Winchester brothers stop looking for their father and Sam settles down with a girlfriend.” He turned to look at the RMC. “That’s …”

“Improbable, yes,” the RMC finished dryly. “Well, we’ve already packed for that canon. Do we need a new dummy?”

“No, but I think we might need extra bottles of Bleeprin.”

“Then grab what you can find and let’s get going.”

Mittens set their disguises to human, opened a portal and they stepped into the pre-fic darkness.

An Author’s Note boomed.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything certainly not this.

My sis wrote this and told me to post it so hear it is.

“It’s going to be one of those fics, isn’t it?” said the RMC with a sigh.

“According to the report, yes. But maybe the sister has better SPaG than the poster?”

The fic opened with some exposition.

They had been looking for there father for almost a year now and Sam hadn’t gottenover the death of his girlfriend but he Dean convinced him that as much as it hurt Sam was just going to have to move on no matter how much the pain was. There had been “supernatural” cases but Dean decided Sam needed a little break to get to move on with his life before he continued being a supernatural bounty hunter.

“What? No!” the RMC exclaimed. “Back then Dean would never have told Sam to take a break from hunting. Not to mention that the demon who killed Sam’s girlfriend and their mother is still out there and they would still want it dead.”

“So, a charge for OOC behaviour, then.” Mittens took out a notebook and a pen. “I should get a reading on the brothers, just to make sure none of them have been replaced. Once they show up, that is.” Mittens shot a pointed look at the lack-of-setting-around them.

When he went back to what as hewould call it a “normal” life he went back to schooland his friends andhe even got a new girlfriend, her name was Crystal she was a Latin girl and very beautiful. But today was the anniversary of his girlfriend’s death and Crystal didnt know of her boyfriend’s life past or present and on this specific day he seemed very depressed.

This ended the exposition and the fic finally deposited them in a hallway outside a classroom. The hallway was so generic that for a moment the agents thought they had somehow landed back in HQ, but Sam and Crystal were there.

They watched as Crystal asked Sam if something was wrong and he changed the subject by asking her if she wanted to go skiing.

Mittens took the opportunity to get a reading on Sam. [Sam Winchester. Human (mostly). 91,2% OOC. Otanche. Siem reap District] He looked at it in dismay, before showing it to the RMC. “Apparently there’s much worse to come.”

All of a sudden Xs started falling down around them and they had to dive into the classroom to avoid getting hit. The bold, upper-case Xs had been used to mark a scene change. From the outside, it merely looked bad, but from inside the text, it was very much like having caltrops raining down.

“Charge for the use of weapons grade punctuation,” the RMC said, while opening a portal to the next scene, which took place in a cabin somewhere.

The next thing Sam heard was Crystal’s scream. He went and got there as fast as he could. When he got there she was bleeding from the head. She fell back and hit her head on a rock. She had scratch marks on her and they did not seem normal. So Sam called his brother, Dean, and they where on another supernatural search.

“That came out of absolutely nowhere,” the RMC said. “No buildup, no tension, no nothing. Charge.”

“Also, that has to be the worst description of someone getting injured, that I have …” Mittens began, but was interrupted by an Author’s Note in all caps. Both agents clamped their hands over their ears, but it barely helped.


My ears are ringing,” the RMC said, when it was safe to remove one’s hands from one’s ears.

“What? I can’t hear what you’re saying. My ears are ringing,” Mittens replied, almost as if someone, somewhere was scraping the bottom of the barrel of jokes.


The next chapter opened in a hospital.

Sam called Dean, while he rushed Crystal to the hospital. She woke up 3 hours later and by that time Dean had already gotten there so Sam went in the room alone and Dean stayed in the waiting room.

Being off stage, so to speak, the story had a less firm grip on Dean and he had a puzzled frown as if he was trying very, very hard to remember something that was just outside his reach.

“Get a reading on him,” the RMC whispered. “I’ll take a look at the action. Or what you might call it.” It peeked into the hospital room, where Sam had just told Crystal that something knocked her out and scratched her.

“What do you mean by something?” she asked with a scared look on her face.

“You didn’t see what attacked you?” he asked with a shocked look on his face.

The RMC winced. Then it looked ahead in the Words and returned to Mittens, ushering him to safety in another room, just as more X‘s began raining down.

“We need a charge,” it said, “for what is possibly the worse prose I have ever had the misfortune of coming across. What did the reading say?”

Mittens showed the CAD to the RMC; the last readout still visible in the display. [Dean Winchester. Human. 43,7% OOC. Belvis. Craftivism.]

“He looked like he was trying to break out of it,” he said. “Maybe … Oh, I guess it’s too late now. Sam’s here and Dean is back in the story.”

“Yeah I know, I have to tell her the truth she has to know that we are bounty hunters.”

Sam had not notice but Crystal had came out of the room when he said that they where bounty hunters.
“You’re a what?” She said with a surprised look on her face.

“They’re not bounty hunters!” both agents said, at roughly the same time and with exactly the same tone of annoyance.

Suspense what can I say. PLEASE R&R.

Charge for stupid Author’s Notes,” the RMC said as next chapter began.

After Sam called Dean, while he rushed Crystal to the hospital. She woke up 3 hours later and by that time Dean had already gotten there so Sam went in the room alone and Dean stayed in the waiting room.

Both agents stared. Then blinked. Then stared again.

“You know,” the RMC said. “I’ve got the strangest feeling of deja moo.”

“Did we somehow end up back in the beginning of the last chapter instead of going to the next?”

The RMC looked at the Words. “No. We’ve moved on as we were supposed to. It would seem that whoever put this up, posted the second chapter twice. Let’s just skip it. I have absolutely no desire to rewatch any of it.”

They opened a portal to the next chapter and found themselves standing in a foggy, grey nothingness, since there was no indication of where the chapter took place.

Crystal tried calling an ambulance, but there was no service where they were they where standing. They had Crystal who was in the metical classes in the school and she knew there was a first aid kite in the cabin, so they got on the motor skis and where on there way to the cabin.

“Huh?” asked Mittens.

What?” asked the RMC.

What it this … I don’t even … What’s a ‘metical class’? Or a ‘first aid kite’?”

Never mind that. Where are we and what’s going on?” The RMC frowned and studied the Words for a moment. “It would seem that the second chapter was not just posted twice, it was posted instead of the third. Thus we have no kind of context that could make this make sense.” It paused. “Not that anything could, really, but you know what I mean.”

It checked the Words again since hanging back meant that they had gotten left behind by the story. “So there’s a fourth person who’s hurt. Crystal tells Dean to get the first aid from the bathroom and for some reason he just stares at her like an idiot. Although maybe he’s wondering if she’s talking about the kite or if she wants him to bring something actually useful.”

“Huh. I suppose the Sue is making Dean an idiot because she’s trying to make herself seem competent and assertive.”

“And failing spectacularly. Let’s go to the cabin and watch them in person.”

“Hola beba como estas?” She heard her mother’s voice.
“Bien, yo esto en la mountains con los amigos meo.” She responded in Spanglish.

“What language is she talking?” Dean asked his brother in a whisper.

“I have no idea what she’s saying,” the RMC commented. He and Mittens were outside the cabin looking in through the window at Crystal, who was on the phone. “But even the story admits that it’s not proper Spanish, so we can make the charge.”

“Ok guys, I just asked my mother what a Chupacabra was and she said it was a blood sucking thing and it also does weird scratches.”

The agents gave each other a long look.

“Okay,” Mittens started. “Even though they haven’t actually been featured, chupacabras are mentioned in Supernatural, so they do exist. Which means that Sam and Dean should already know about them.”

“And if they don’t, there could be an entry in their dad’s journal,” the RMC interjected.

Mittens started ticking off points on his fingers. “They could also call Bobby or hit the library or use the internet. Basically, you could do a top fifty of places they would look for info about a monster and ‘waiting for the girlfriend’s mom to happen to call and tell them about it’ wouldn’t even be on it. This is …”


“To say the least, yes.” Mittens crossed his arms. “And it’s not even like the mom knew anything important, like how to find it or kill it.” He uncrossed his arms and started scribbling more charges.

“How did your mom know that?” Sam asked wondering if his girlfriends family was part of the bounty hunting business.

“They show things about that thing on the Spanish news.” She responded.

They started to do more research on Sam’s laptop.

Both agents facepalmed.

“Well, that just made the last part completely and utterly pointless,” Mittens said and wrote a new charge.

They skipped ahead to the next morning and came out of the portal to find the whole cabin in an uproar because the wounded woman from the last chapter was dead.

“It was my fault I should have kept an eye on her we never should have left her alone.” Crystal said with tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Crystal come downstairs with me, Dean you go and do some thing with the body.” Sam said walking out the door with Crystal.
“Look at me. It was not your fault, we couldn’t do anything about it she died it her sleep maybe she didn’t feel anything.” Sam said.

“You idiot! Of course it was her fault!” the RMC snapped, before turning to Mittens. “She couldn’t call an ambulance, but there was nothing stopping her or the Winchesters from driving the woman to the hospital. Instead Crystal, who is supposed to be studying medicine, patched the woman up with a first aid kit or kite or whatever and then ignored her until now. Sam and Dean should also have known better, but they’ve been brainwashed into extreme incompetence so the blame falls squarely on Crystal.”

There was a moment’s silence after the rant.

Mittens cleared his throat. “They’re going hunting. Should we follow?”

“Have to,” the RMC replied moodily. “The hunts are an essential part of a Supernatural story; we need to see how badly she mucks it up.”

Crystal stayed in the car until she heard a scream and it sounded like Sam, so she got out of the car and ran to where the boys where. Sam was not hurt he Screamed because a branch hit him on the back when the wind blew.

There was the sound of two agents banging their heads against two tree trunks in an attempt to lessen the pain.

Crystal didn’t move but it was coming to her. Then Sam took his gun and BOMB. He shot the thing it was on the ground so they said the spell and sent it back to hell. Then Crystal ran to Sam and they got there bags to go home.

“If this was any other fic,” Mittens said, “I would make a charge for having a hunt that was far too short and lacking in tension, but I’m just so glad that it’s over.”

“I know what you mean,” the RMC said. “But you should still find it in you to make the charge. We can’t go around slacking on the Duty.” It checked the words once more. “At least the fic is done. There’s a short scene in which Crystal finds out that she’s pregnant, but we don’t have to watch it.”

“It’s done?” Mittens frowned. “How long is this fic?”

“I’d say around 2000 words, including Author’s Notes.”

“Seriously? I know it makes no sense to complain that it wasn’t longer, but it’s barely even the length of a decent chapter.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just wrap it up so we can go home. It’s …” The RMC stopped and squinted. “There’s something in the Words ahead of us.”


“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this before. You know how the end of a fic looks like the grey pre-fic darkness?”

“No.” Mittens had always had difficulties looking ahead in the Words and had never tried to look beyond the end of a fic.

“Well, it does. Except that here, there seems to be something behind it.”

“It continues?”

“Well, it can’t, can it? The fic ends, that’s why it goes grey.”

“Should we skip ahead?”

The RMC considered for a moment. “No. The greyness can’t hurt us, but if we portal blindly, we have no idea where we might end up.” It reached out and grabbed Mittens’ hand. “We’ll let it catch up with us. Just keep the Remote Activator ready so you can open a portal back to HQ, if we need to get out.”

Wide eyed and rigid Mittens waited as the scene with Crystal played out. He made a mental note to charge for stupid use of a pregnancy test, but didn’t want to let go of the RMC’s hand. He probably couldn’t if he had tried. The RMC was holding on to him with an iron grip that turned its knuckles white. Then the greyness at the end of the fic was visible, not unlike the Nothing from the movie version of The Neverending Story and it washed over them and he couldn’t see a thing, could just feel the grip on his hand and gripped tightly in return.

There was a sense of falling or maybe of being catapulted straight ahead; it was impossible to tell. Then they hit something.

Since the pre-fic darkness has no actual mass, landing in it should have been like two solid objects landing on something soft. In reality – although that word is used very loosely here – it felt like the agents were two soft, bouncy objects, like silly putty, landing on something very hard. While it didn’t technically hurt, it was as far away from being comfortable as you can get without losing the ‘didn’t technically’ part of the sentence.

The RMC finally let go of Mittens’ hand and dazed and confused but relatively unscathed they picked themselves up from the not!ground and looked around. Words were glowing in the darkness.

By: Kit-Kat92
What happens in the life of Sam and his girlfriend Crystal From the story sky trip.

“Wha…” Mittens said in a sluggish voice.

“I think,” the RMC said, concentrating hard, which wasn’t doing anything good for its head, “that we have been propelled directly into a sequel to ‘Ski trip’.

Wha…” Mittens said again; then he frowned and tried harder. “Who starts a sequel after writing barely a chapter’s worth of a fic?”

“The same kind of Sue who can’t even get the title of their own story right. Can you get at the Bleeprin?”

“Sure,” Mittens muttered and fumbled for a moment in the dark before finding the glass in a pocket and handing it to the RMC.


Both agents winced as the word suddenly roared though the darkness.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, certainly not this.

The fic started properly and Mittens took advantage of the light to write down the charges that had accumulated, along with one for having an annoyingly phrased disclaimer.

The action picked up right where the last story had left off, with Crystal on the phone, learning that she was pregnant.

“Can you believe it?” Crystal asked.
“Of course we did it three weeks ago.” Sam said.
“Yeah and the doctor said I was about 3 weeks a long.” Crystal said.

“Uh, yeah, no,” Mittens said. “A pregnancy test can only tell you that you’re pregnant, not how far you are. Even I know that and I …” He stopped.

The RMC tactfully changed the subject by saying: “Another one of those scene dividers. Take cover.”

The next day Crystal had gone to work because she had gone on the trip three weeks before graduating and getting her thing to become a doctor. The day before finding out she was going to have a baby Crystal had gotten the thing and she was a doctor now.

Mittens slumped against a convenient wall and slid down slowly. Sitting on the floor, he buried his head in his hands and made small whimpering noises. The RMC patted his arm and muttered soothingly.

Finally Mittens lifted his head. “I’m … okay. Sorry about this.”

“Shh. She’s the one who should be sorry. And she will be.”

Mittens nodded grimly and got to his feet. “We’ve been left behind again.”

“I watched the words and we didn’t miss much. The chupacabra is back, the brothers are still incompetent and the idiocies won’t stop piling up, but no real new charges. But we have to watch the scene that comes right after Dean and Sam going for drinks and Sam getting drunk.

Mittens nodded again and opened a portal to right outside Sam and Crystal’s bedroom.

When Dean left to his room Sam woke Crystal and started calling her Jessica his dead girlfriends name and she tried to move from under him and he hit her in the face. She screamed and Dean ran into the room and moved him off her, then took him to another room. Crystal ran to the door and locked it she stayed up for a while but then fell asleep.

The next morning Sam begged Crystal for forgiveness, but she was angry and left for her mother’s house. Dean yelled at Sam and then they followed the Sue, which left the agents alone in the house.

“So,” Mittens said, “right out of nowhere, Sam decides to get drunk, then he calls Crystal Jessica’s name, but then he attacks her. Is he possessed?”

“No,” said the RMC who had looked ahead in the Words.

“A shape shifter? Is the real Sam tied up somewhere?”


Mittens thought some more. “Mind control of some sort?”


“Okay, I give up. What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing. Everything. This is bad storytelling at its worse. The scene we just witnessed was simply an attempt to inject drama into their happy domesticity. And you wanna know the worst part?”

“Not really, no.”

“In a few paragraphs, he will save her mother’s life, the Sue will forgive him and it will all have been rendered completely pointless and never be mentioned again.”

Mittens got an exasperate expression. “But whyyy?” he asked with almost a whine.

The RMC shrugged and downed a few more Bleeprin. Having no answer to give, it handed the bottle back to Mittens, who took a handful himself, before opening a portal so they could go back to watching the fic.

Crystal was now 8 months along and she was so happy that her baby was going to be born in a week and that was the last day of the 8 month. Crystal was going to give birth in 2 days.

“I would previously have judged the Sue’s knowledge of basic human biology and medicine to be at zero,” the RMC remarked. “Which means that she’s now going into negative numbers. Same goes for her grasp of basic math.”

In a few paragraphs the baby, Elisabeth Winchester, was born and mother and child were sent home from the hospital just an hour and a half later.

The baby was put in the nursery and everyone went to sleep, but Crystal woke up the next morning to the smell of smoke and the sound of the baby crying.

“Is the yellow-eyed demon back for Crystal?” asked Mittens, sounding hopeful.

“Nah, that would, you know, indicate that the Sue has actually watched more than two episodes of Supernatural.”

The fire was put out and no one was hurt, but Sam still had a meltdown.

“I’m sorry but this is happening because of me I’m going to leave.” Sam said running out of the room.

Crystal cried and then called Dean to ask him to find Sam. By this point Dean was so incompetent, that his ‘searching’ simply meant trying to call Sam’s cell phone. Whether he would actually have done anything useful was doubtful, but never put to the test since Sam showed up at Dean’s place. Crystal came by and they kissed and made up.

“Making this whole thing totally pointless, once again,” as the RMC noted.

What happened next was that some kind of entity tried to get close to Elisabeth, but was dispatched by Sam in a few sentences. It was not brought up again. Following naturally after the other completely random events, Sam and Crystal randomly bought a new house and moved in.

The agents went with them to the new house, where they made themselves relatively comfortable under the kitchen table. Here they could watch most of the story unfold, safe from the frequent downpours of scene dividers.

Crystal found out that she was expecting again, by repeating the pregnancy-test-fail from earlier, down to the fact that she was three weeks pregnant.

One month there was a creature in there house and Crystal was running with Sam trying to kill it. Then Crystal tripped over something and fell down the stairs.
Sam killed the thing and drove Crystal to the hospital.
They ran some test and they told her that she had lost the baby.

Mittens took out his crossbow and absent-mindedly started checking it. “It’s just more fake, boring, inconsequential drama. I’m pretty sure we have enough charges. Can’t we kill her now and get it over with?”

“All right, I’ll take a look at the Words and see if there are any minis or anything we need to pick up.” The RMC was silent for a few moments. Then it simply said: “Oh.”


“Oh,” the RMC repeated but didn’t elaborate.

Mittens didn’t ask. He started taking out the crossbow bolts one by one and running his thumb over the tips to check how pointy they were.

The next day Kathy took Elisabeth to Crystal since her mother was sick. On her way to Crystal’s house Kathy was hurt something came in front of her and she had a car accident she crashed into a tree and got hit on the head luckily Elisabeth was not hurt she didn’t have a scratch on her.

“I just had a thought,” Mittens began. “If the sister is named Kathy and the poster is named KitKat and the Sue is named Crystal and the author of this atrocity is the sister of the poster, do you think we’re actually dealing with a self-insert?”

“Most likely, but the evidence is too circumstantial for us to make a charge. Hm. According to Kathy something jumped on the car and that was what caused her accident.”

“Another monster?”

The RMC sighed. “I wish it would stop. It’s bad enough with all the dull family stuff, but every time the Sue brings in monsters, she’s reminding us that this is supposed to be Supernatural.”

Mittens dug around in the backpack and found a bag of insta-popcorn, which he started munching on with a gloomy expression. The RMC also had a snack consisting of some stray punctuation it had saved from an earlier mission.

The characters came home, went to bed and once again Crystal was woken by the sound of Elisabeth being in danger. Since that particular plot device had already been done to death in the fic, Mittens was a bit surprised when the RMC said: “Finally, something new. This is what we stayed to witness.”

They got up and went upstairs to watch the scene.

Sam ran into the nursery after Crystal and saw a man holding Elisabeth and holding a knife to Crystal’s throat. A moment later the man dragged them out the window even though they were on the second floor and all three disappeared without a trace.

Sam and Dean searched the room for evidence and found a gold chain with a circled diamond one the ground.

“I’ve seen that before but not on Crystal or the baby on some man at the supermarket who always wears a black sweater with a hood on.” Sam said looking at the chain know it was that weird mans thing. He didn’t know where the man lived so he went to the supermarket to try and find out where he lived.

A few paragraphs of supremely lame detective work later, the brothers had the man’s address, which turned out to be the house right across from Sam’s.

The brothers went there, broke down the door, saved Crystal and Elisabeth from the man and had him arrested.

“Sam what the hell was that all why would he take the baby?” She asked not knowing why he took Elisabeth because she knew her took her to rap her.

“Trivializing attempted rape, to the point where she can’t even be bothered to spell it right,” said Mittens, who had taken advantage of the confusion to pocket the gold chain with the diamond as a souvenir. He scratched his chin with the end of the pen. “So was that guy a demon or something?”


“Then how did he manage to drag a woman and a baby out of a second floor window without everyone breaking their necks?”

“The idiocy in that scene was so thick, it probably cushioned their fall.”

Crystal was briefly interviewed by two detectives, before going home. The next morning she went to work and a couple of disposable girlfriends of hers were introduced into the story. The agents neuralyzed one of them, who wasn’t going to show up again anyway.

“Cameos by real life friends?” asked Mittens.

The RMC never got around to answering since the two detectives showed up again, this time to ask Crystal if Elisabeth was really Sam’s child, which caused her to leave in a huff.

Sam picked her up from work and she told him what the detectives had asked. Sam was as shocked as she was and suggested that they went to the station to confront Detectives Benson and Stabler and demand an explanation.

“I want to know why you asked me who the father of my child was.” She said looking at her.
“Well I was wondering why a man would attack out of the blue. Then say that the women he attacked baby was his.” She said explaining why she asked that.
“Well… its… true.” She said with tires coming down her cheeks.
Sam went in to the room enraged. “What… how could you this to me you… you.”

“What the teacup!?” exclaimed Mittens, which earned him a bemused look from the RMC. He stared at the scene in front of them, the furious Sam and Crystal, who had small rubber tires rolling down her face, giving new meaning to the phrase ‘tear tracks’. “Okay, so she seems to have cheated on him and passed the baby off as his; at this point I’m not the least bit surprised. But why tell him about the detectives’ question? Why agree to confront them, when she knew all along that they were right? It’s just so …” he grasped for a word. “It’s so extremely improbable,” he finished.

Sam and Crystal went home and the Sue started to explain herself.

“Ok, ok this is what you remember my ex right you know Luis?”
“Yeah what does he have to do with anything?”

“Oh, Sam,” the RMC sighed. “You really are dense in this story.”

“That’s him he changed his name but trust me that is him, I was mad that had not gone home for 5 days when you went on one of your trips with Dean and I hurt myself so he help me we started to talk and then it happened. But also remember I was mad at you.” She said walking away from him.

“Did she just blame him for her cheating on him?” asked Mittens incredulously.

“Oh, yes. And he’s buying it. I think now would be a good time to break out the next bottle of Bleeprin.”

“Oh then… I still don’t know why you didn’t tell me why you didn’t tell me she was not mine.” He said getting up and moving away from her.
“Sam I don’t know I thought this was how you going to react of course I was not going to tell you.” She said turning around and whipping her cheek.

“And she also just blamed him for her lying! Because he would get mad! Which he has every right in the world to be!” Mittens swallowed a handful of pills before passing the bottle to the RMC.

“I love you and I love Elisabeth I don’t care if she’s not mine.” He said holding her tight as she cried.
“I love you too. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness but you still gave it to me.” She said crying into Sam’s chest.
“But Crystal how do you really know it’s his did you take the paternity test?” Sam said wondering if she could still be his.
“That’s true how about I get Lourdes to do it tomorrow at 3 witch is mine and her lunch time.” She said wondering if there was hope of her being his.

Both agents just groaned at this.

The next day some sort of unspecified test was done and the day after that Crystal picked up the results. The agents neuralized Lourdes and then followed the Sue home, where she was reading the results with Sam there.

“You are… the father!” She said giving him the biggest hug in the world. She was so excited to know that he was the real father.
“Sam did you hear me?” She said looking at her boyfriend seeing that he made no movement or showing any emotions.
“Ahhhhhhh Sam please says something!” She screamed and she looked at her hand and saw that there was blood on her hand.
“Sam?” She said.
She saw something behind the where they where sitting, it was Luis. He jumped on her and they where on the floor.
“No one will know that I am not the father if they don’t see the test.” He took it from her and was about to rip it but he was knocked out.
“Don’t ever touch her or me.” Sam had gotten up even though he was hurt he managed to hit the guy.
“Crystal do me a favor?” He said looking up at her.
“What’s that?” She said.
“Call an ambulance.” He said before he passed out.

“What … did I just watch?” asked Mittens. “I mean, what just happened?”

“We should intervene here,” the RMC said. “She’s planning to stitch him up herself.”


She got the phone and called the police. She can take care of her own man.

“Uh, yeah, no,” said a voice behind her.

Crystal turned and saw a young man, whose most remarkable feature was the fact that he was pointing a crossbow at her.

“Put down that needle and step away from Sam,” the man continued.

A young woman, who looked like she might be the young man’s sister, went over, bent down over Sam and felt his pulse. “I’ll send him to Medical and get them to patch him up,” she said. She took out a pen and some paper and wrote a note, which she stuffed down Sam’s shirt. Then she started fiddling with some kind of mechanism and a moment later, there was a blue glow and Sam disappeared. Crystal gave a scream and tried to lunge at the woman but a bolt hit her in the thigh and she fell to the floor with a cry. Then she felt a foot on her back.

“Quiet,” the man said.

There was a knock on the front door.

“Must be the police,” said the woman. “I’ll go take care of them.” She left.

Crystal thought about screaming for help, but the foot pressed down threateningly.

A few moments later the woman returned. “Well, that was convenient,” she said. “It was Detectives Benson and Stabler, so now they’re taken care of.”

“What did you do to them?” asked the man.

“I neuralyzed them. They were actually okay cops and I suspect once they’re free of the Suefluence they can be quite good, so there’s nothing to keep them from assimilating into the canon. We can do the same with Kathy and the mother.”

“We can?”

“Yes. They haven’t really done anything, except aiding and abetting a Sue, but they seem like normal people. Once they forget about Crystal, they can also become background characters.”

“So that just leaves Luis,” said the man.

“Yeah.” The woman paused. “Can’t melt into the canon and I really don’t feel like recruiting him.” She sauntered over to the still unconscious Luis, bent down and said: “Luis, you’re charged with being a crazy, violent ex and wanna-be rapist and with performing an impossible kidnapping. Your sentence is death. Mittens, do your thing.”

There was a ‘thunk’ sound and then a bolt was sticking out from Luis’ neck. Crystal whimpered.

Then the man, whose name seemed to be Mittens, started talking. “Crystal, as agents of the PPC we hereby charge you with the following: Crimes against the English language, that are many in number and heinous in nature, not least the use of weapons grade scene dividers. Posting your second chapter twice and in place of your third. Writing a fic filled with boring domestic scenes, where the Winchesters were so bland that if it wasn’t for the names, we wouldn’t have any idea who they were supposed to be. Interjecting said domesticity with random overblown drama, all of which was both badly handled and inconsequential. You are also charged with the fact that any time you sent the Winchesters on something resembling a hunt, you made them so incompetent that they seemed to be too dumb to eat a sandwich. While it is not a charge to make your story up as you go along, it is definitely a charge to ignore what you have previously written in favour of chasing some new stupid idea, so we’re charging you with that as well.

You are also charged with claiming to be first a last-year med student and later a doctor and yet you haven’t the slightest grasp of medicine or biology. You are charged with criminal negligence towards a person in your care, resulting in said person’s death.”

“That wasnt my fault Sam said so himself.” Answered Crystal with a shocked look on her face.

This earned her a vicious kick to the ribs. “Learn some SPaG!” He cleared his throat. “You are charged with cheating on Sam and blaming him for it and with passing Elisabeth off as his daughter and then blaming him for your lie. You are an awful, awful person.

You are also charged with … You know what, I’m not even going to read the rest of the list. Any one of the points I have already mentioned would be enough to condemn you. You are a revolting, detestable Sue and your punishment is death! My only regret is that you have to be dead when we salt and burn you, but that doesn’t mean that you will get off easily. I have something very special in mind for you.”


“Well, that was even more satisfying than I had imagined it would be,” said Mittens, dumping the drained and mutilated body of the Sue next to Luis.

“I agree,” said the RMC. “It was both entertaining and enlightening. Very interesting to find out what a chupacabra looks like in this canon. I wonder if they will ever get around to feature one in the series.”

Mittens took out the salt and the gasoline from the backpack and started pouring them on the bodies.

The RMC moved back a little. “Why don’t you do that and I’ll go find Dean and the two bits and neuralyze them. Then you can grab the baby and take her to the Nursery and I’ll meet you there.”

“The baby?” Mittens turned and looked at the crib where Elisabeth was lying, apparently sleeping through it all. “Can’t she stay here? If you tell Kathy that she is her daughter …”

“No. She’s a child of a canon character and she has to go.”

“Well, um, okay then. See you.”

The RMC portalled out and Mittens poured the salt, lit a match and threw it on the bodies. They caught fire almost at once. He turned to the crib. “Okay,” he said to himself. “You can do this.”

He bent down and looked at Elisabeth, who was still sleeping. He poked her with a finger and she opened her eyes and looked up at him. She didn’t look dangerous. He reached down and lifted her up, dimly recalling something about how you were supposed to support a baby’s head. He held her firmly against his body so he could get one hand free to work the RA. Smoke and heat started to fill the room and Elisabeth made an unhappy noise.

“Shh,” Mittens said while pressing the coordinates back to HQ. “I’m here, you’re safe.” The portal opened and he stepped through.

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Thank you to Rats and Phobos for betaing this.

”Transferred?” the Radioactive Moss Creature repeated.

Mittens nodded. “We’re supposed to go and see the …” He checked the screen again. “The Reannual Grape Vine.”

The RMC thought about this for a moment, then decided that the best course of action would be to shrug (figuratively) and go with it. “Which office?”

“Number 57.”

Mittens had only knocked once when a telepathic voice, sounding rather impatient, said: Yes, yes. Do come in.

Maybe wandering backwards through the corridors of HQ had taken longer than they had thought and they were now late. But the message hadn’t specified a time and anyway, he had no idea what time it was, since he hadn’t seen a clock since he came to the PPC. Still, back in Hell, reasons like that would not have stopped anyone from punishing him for being late, so it was with a feeling of unease that he pushed the door open.

They entered a small office, kept neat in spite of the fact that it was packed with crates and cardboard boxes. Behind the desk sat the Sentient Reannual Grape Vine. It was wearing a robe and a hat with the word ‘Wizzard’ embroidered on it. Small clusters of unripe grapes could been seen amidst its leaves.

, it said, in a brisk voice. My new Agents. Welcome to the Department.

The agents looked at each other, looked down and shuffled their feet or feet analogues a bit. Finally the RMC said: “Pardon me, but what Department would that be? The message didn’t specify …” It let the sentence trail off.

The Reannual didn’t look surprised. The Department of Improbabilities. We used to be The Department of Ah, Hell Naw! but people objected to the name. Anyway, it’s not surprising that you haven’t heard of us. We were never big in terms of numbers and we tend to get a bit overshadowed by the Department of WhatThe. I haven’t had agents ask to get transferred to this Department in a decade and this is the first time in years that Personnel has actually sent someone here, so you will understand why I was eager to meet with you at once. Now, to answer your question …

“I’m sorry,” the RMC interrupted, as politely as possible. “What question would that be?”

The question you just asked of course.

“But we didn’t ask a question,” the RMC insisted.

Didn’t you? Oh, dear. The Reannual looked slightly flustered. I accidentally started answering your question before you had asked it. It happens sometimes. You were going to ask me what this Department does, exactly. We deal with fics that contain elements that are highly unlikely, but not on the level of brainbreaking WTF. So we don’t get your typical clichéd thirteen-a-dozen Sues. But something like that eight year old Tenth Walker you took care of would have fitted nicely.

“You’ve read our reports?” Mittens asked.

Well, technically, no, I haven’t read them and won’t get around to it until this afternoon. But for the sake of getting this conversation to make sense, let’s just say that I have. I wanted to know who my new agents were. What you’re good at. Whether you own a flamethrower. According to your reports, you’ve performed … adequately. I’m sure you’ll do this Department proud. Or at least not embarrass it. Though I really don’t see how you could do that, since hardly anyone know we exist.

It mused about this for a moment, then continued. One last thing, before you go. Would one of you be so kind as to ask the question?

“What question?” asked Mittens.

Oh, not that again. The question I answered just a moment ago.

“But,” said the RMC, “you already know what it is. You’ve already answered it.”

Answering the question before it gets asked is all fine and good, the Reannual replied. But answering a question which then never gets asked violates the laws of Time and can disturb the fabric of causality.

Mittens tried to think back and remember this exact wording. “So what does this Department do, exactly?” he asked.

Thank you, said the Reannual. I’ll let you get back to work. Good luck. And it waved a stalk dismissively.

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[Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke. The PPC belongs to Jay and Acacia; I’m only playing in it. ‘Daughter Of A Winchester‘ belongs to Fallen Angel and I do not want it. Mittens and the Radioactive Moss Creature are mine.]

Mittens was distracted from his search for the biscuits, by the console giving its familiar ear-splitting BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!! He pressed the button and started to read.
“It’s a Supernatural-fic,” he said, after a moment, “the full title is ‘Daughter Of A Winchester (Will Become an Andy Biersack Love Story!)’. It’s written in first person, so we’ll need the dummy. And there’s a mini in the summary.”
“You should stay here,” the Radioactive Moss Creature said to Saxo and James. “You’re fully fledged agents now. No doubt, there’ll be another mission along for you soon.” They looked like they wanted to object, so it added: “Anyway, Christmas is near and we haven’t had time to decorate. You can do that.”
“So,” Mittens said, eyeing their rather extensive weapons collection with a thoughtful look, “would the crossbow be canon?”
The RMC gave a sound that could have been a laugh, converted into a cough. “They used a Christmas tree as a weapon once. Bring whatever you feel could be useful. Also, lots of salt and some kerosene.”
“We don’t have any of that.”
“We don’t? Then we’ll have to pick it up in the fic.”
Mittens packed their backpack, set the disguise generator to ordinary humans and programmed the portal.
They threw the dummy in first and stepped though after it.

They were in prefic nothingness. Mittens turned on a torch, knowing from experience that gathering charges from Author’s Notes and prologues in pitch darkness was a pain.
There was a bark. He looked down. Then further down.
The dog wagged its tail.
He stared, then turned to the RMC, who was also staring.
“Is that a … a …Is that Winchster from the summary? What kind of mini is it?”
The dog wagged its tail harder and barked again at the mentioning of its name.
“It must be a mini-Hell Hound,” said the RMC.
“By why does it look like that?”
“Well … It is never shown what the real Hell Hounds look like, so I suppose it is within the realm of possibilities, that the mini-version is a,” it hesitated for a moment, “a Yorkshire Terrier.”
The Yorkshire Terrier wagged its tail some more. It had a little purple bow between the ears.
There was a pause, then Mittens shrugged. “A mini is a mini.” He picked up the small dog. It tried to lick his face and he giggled, before placing it in the backpack.
The fic started, not with an Author’s Note or a Disclaimer, but with a character sheet.

Full Name: Raven Natasha Winchester

Age: 11 (she’ll get older as the story progresses)

A picture of a girl floated through the darkness, startling both agents, before it disappeared again.
“That must be one of the features of the Circle of Lemmings,” said the RMC.
“Is it dangerous?” asked Mittens.
“I don’t think it’s any more dangerous, than things like punctuation rains and unmarked scene changes.”

Personality: People She Doesn’t Know: Shy, Quiet, Adorable. People She Does Know: Funny, Sarcastic, Outgoing, Snarky, Witty, Sweet, Can Win Almost Any Argument, Is Known To Stay Quiet For Long Periods Of Time, Very Protecteve.

“That Is One Of The …” The RMC paused, then cleared its throat. “Sorry. It seems to be catching. That is one of the worst instances of telling, not showing, I have ever had the misfortune to witness. Charge.”
Mittens rummaged in the backpack for Bleeprin and giggled again, when Winchster licked his hand. “I’m also charging for crimes against capitalization and spelling.”
“And I suppose, we’ll have to inform the Department of Redundancy Department.”

Status: Hunter, Bird Kid (Idea stolen off of Maximum Ride), psychic

Hobbies: Hunting, Shooting, Skate Boarding, Flying and Messing with people’s minds

“What’s a Bird Kid?” asked Mittens.
“Something from another book, which has absolutely nothing to do with Supernatural.”

The character sheet was then followed by a back story. It explained how Dean Winchester, at the age of 15, had gotten another 15-year-old, Natasha Rivers, pregnant and how she had died after giving birth.
The RMC scoffed. “With the number of Sue-mothers who die giving birth, you would think that they all live in the Dark Ages, not in the modern world, where these things are very rare, thankfully.”

There was something wrong with the baby.

“You don’t say,” Mittens said, absent-mindedly, while checking his gun.

She  had been born with little, black, dawny wings. It turns out that Natasha was being experimented on by an underground science facility to earn some extra cash.

There was the sound of two palms hitting two foreheads.
“I don’t even know where to start,” said Mittens.
“Neither do I. The whole thing is just so idiotic. Underground facilities do not experiment on anyone, although the people in them might do so. And ‘to earn some extra cash’? It makes it sound like she got extra pocket money for mowing the lawn.”
Mittens handed a couple of Bleeprin to the RMC and also took some himself.
The infodump continued by explaining that John Winchester had taken Raven in as his own daughter, until she was five years old, when she had been told the truth.
“She might as well be going through a check-list,” said the RMC, while Mittens scribbled furiously to get all the charges.

She turned out to be a little girl genius at the I.Q. of 360.

“Firstly,” said the RMC, “charge her with giving herself an absurdly high IQ, despite clearly not having any idea how an IQ score works. Secondly, charge her with insulting the honourable Agatha Heterodyne, by calling herself that.”
“There’s a another chapter coming up.”
“And thirdly, charge for having a whole chapter consisting of a character sheet.”

Dean and I pulled up outside Sammy’s apartment complex and pulled to a soft stop.

Mittens made a mark next to the charge for redundancy, happy to have firm ground under his feet once again.
The dummy settled into a blond girl with blue eyes; she was sitting next to Dean. She had some kind of odd pink-orangeish light, in the colours of a sunrise, shimmering on her back. It might have been pretty, if not for the fact that it, at the same time, tried to be black.
Mittens tilted his head. “I suppose that’s her ‘dawny, black wings’ shining though her clothes.”
The Sue explained that she called her dad ‘Dean’ and John ‘Dad’.
“So in reality, she’s an ordinary Winchester-little-sister-Sue, with a convoluted back story,” remarked the RMC.
Mittens looked round. “This is from the beginning of the pilot episode,” he said. The complete lack of description meant, that their surroundings defaulted to canon, but the colours looked a bit pale. “If they leave the car unattended, we can get some salt and kerosene from it.”
“I think we’d better not,” said the RMC. “I can’t remember if they already have the devil’s trap in the trunk, but if they do, we don’t want to trigger it.”
“Why …” began Mittens. Then he stopped and his eyes went big. “Oh,” he said.
“I see you catch my drift.”
“Wasn’t it a bad idea for the Flowers to send us here, then?”
The RMC shrugged. “I suspect, that if we get the disadvantages, we also get the perks.”

We climbed out of the impala, and snuck inside the complex.

The lack of capitalization caused the car to turn into an antelope. The agents winced in sympathy as the two people climbed out of it. It looked painful.

I pick-lock my way in, and I listened for the thoughts or dreams of Sammy. Yeah, I’m a psychic. It helps a lot. Like, I can here people’s thoughts, make them see or think what I want them to see or think, and I can even make people do what I want them to do. Not only is it useful, but it’s also really fun. Do you know how many times I’ve gotten out of cleaning the motel room?

“That’s just wrong,” said the RMC. “You don’t use your psychic powers on your friends and family like that.”
“Charging. Also for crimes against grammar, punctuation and tenses.” Mittens stopped writing and lowered the notebook. “Can she hear our thoughts?”
“Maybe, but she seems to be focused on Sam, so we’re probably safe for now.”
In the fic, Raven hid, while Dean and Sam got into a brawl as per canon.

I watched them go at it for awhile (A/N: I just realised how dirty that sounded>D) and finally it ended with Dean on top. (A/N: That sounded dirty too! :3)

The RMC glared. “This is a Suefic. You’d think, we would at least be free of Wincest.”

“Or not,” I said reviling myself.

“You got it wrong,” said Mittens. “Reviling is what we’re doing to you.”
Dean told Sam that their father hadn’t been home for a few days.

Dean wasn’t getting through to him so I stepped in. Okay first you should know that I may be able to read his thoughts, I can’t do any other mind tricks on Sammy. It’s just weird. I’m telling you this so you don’t think Well, why don’t you just compel him to go with you?

“So the only reason,” the RMC said, more acidly with every word, “you don’t force your uncle-brother to leave his life and girlfriend, drag him back into something, he has made it very clear, he wants no part in and make him risk his life, is because you can’t. You are a horrible person. And it’s an extra charge for assuming that everyone else are horrible persons as well.” It turned to Mittens. “If she can’t compel Sam, it’s probably because of the demon part of him. That’s lucky for us.”

“Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days,”

Mittens facepalmed. “That’s exactly what Dean was going to say. Not only is she stealing lines, she’s making the canons look like idiots, who can’t speak for themselves.” He grabbed the Bleeprin and chewed moodily on a couple of pills. Then he looked at the RMC. “She’s just going to insert herself into the pilot episode, steal lines and not add anything but rubbish, isn’t she?”
“Ayup!” the RMC replied with false cheerfulness, having had a brief look at the Words ahead of them. It swallowed a couple of Bleeprin, looked at the bottle of pills, shrugged and swallowed some more.

They followed the canons and the Sue outside and settled down to watch behind a parked car.
Sam and Dean were arguing in lines taken more or less straight from the canon, but with added spelling mistakes. The Sue didn’t have any lines; instead she was making mental comments on everything the brothers said.

“I’m not,” Sam said much more calmly. Told you.
“Why not?” Dean asked raising his eyebrows. Well ain’t that a stupid question?

Obnoxious mental comments.
“Can we kill her now?” asked Mittens.
“No. Sorry.”
Raven told Sam that she wouldn’t give up being a hunter for anything.
The RMC scoffed. “She’s supposed to have an IQ of 360 and yet she wants nothing more than to run credit card scams and drive around killing monsters. I’m starting to think, there’s a zero too much in that number. We might be doing more or less the same, but at least we get paid and we recognise, that this isn’t the best job in the world.”

“So dad was taking out this two lane balck top just outside of Jerico, California. About a month ago this guy. They found his car but he’d vanished completely MIA.”

“Bleeprin?” asked Mittens.
“Don’t mind if I do.”

I slowed the message down, ran though a goldwave(?)

“If you don’t know what it is, why don’t you look it up!?” snapped Mittens. “It would have stopped you looking like an even greater moron than you already do.”
The RMC snatched the extra punctuation and started chewing on the quotation mark, stuffing the parentheses into its pocket for later.

The chapter ended with Sam wishing Raven a happy twelfth birthday.
“Speaking of which,” said the RMC. “How does the math add up?”
Mittens did a quick calculation, jotting down numbers in the note book, scratching his head and redoing them. Finally he said: “It doesn’t. This is 2005 and if she has just turned 12, she should have been born in 1993, but Dean is 26, so he wouldn’t have turned 15 until 1994.”
“Which means, that he couldn’t have been 15 when she was born, much less when she was conceived. Thank you. Make a charge for failing at basic math, resulting in under-age characters having sex.”

In the next chapter the canons were on the road, but had stopped for food. Since there were no more mentions of any impalas, they were now driving in a proper car.

I skipped inside and grabbed everything that was appeiling(SP?) Being a bird kid, you burn a lot of calories fast. So I have to eat a lot. Being a bird kid is also why I’m so tall. Sometimes people are all like, You could be a model! And I’m just like, Me. A model? You sir/ma’m owe me a new lung!

“So that’s what all that bird kid nonsense was about,” said the RMC, pocketing some more punctuation marks. “Being really tall and being able to eat lots of food without getting fat.”

But seriously, being tall can be pretty annoying. I’ve been hit on by a sixteen year old boy once.

“Why do Sues want to be tall and thin if it’s such a bother?” Mittens mused.
“Sues don’t want to be tall and thin, that would be shallow. They just are and they can’t help it. It’s almost like a curse. Trajeck, really.”
Both agents sniggered.

“Oh yeah? And what names did you put on the application this time?”
“Um, Burdafromniam(?), his son Hector, and grandaughter Lesely,” I said with my mouth full.

There was a small ‘pop’ and the mini-Hell Hound Burdafromniam appeared. It was also a Yorkshire Terrier, but rather than its fur being long and smooth, it was in tight curls.
“It has an afro,” Mittens said incredulously.
“Let’s just be grateful that ‘Lesely’ didn’t get us a mini-Sue.”
“What’s a grandaughter, anyway?” Mittens asked, picking up the mini-Hell Hound. “The daughter of his gran?”
“Probably has something to do with her unlikely family circumstances, which means that none of us wants to know.”

“Scored three cards out of the deal.”

“Do they issue credit cards to twelve-year-olds?” asked Mittens.
Sam started going through Dean’s ‘caset tape collection‘.

Black Sabbeth? Moter Head? Metallica?

The agents blinked.
“One out of three,” the RMC said, falsely cheerful. “That’s not … Actually, it’s horrible. You call yourself a fan, you star in a fanfic and you can’t even be bothered to look up the names of Dean’s favourite bands!?”
Mittens handed it some more Bleeprin and wrote the charge. Then he made a mental note to snatch the tapes. They would make a nice souvenir and besides, he was a bit curious as to how the music sounded.

There was a new chapter. The brothers and the Sue arrived at the bridge where the scene with the police officers was to take place.
Sam and Dean got out their fake IDs, but Raven had to stay in the car. Sam had promised her that she could get her own fake ID when she turned fifteen, by which time she would be able to pass for someone in her early twenties.
Mittens leafed back through the notebook. “What happened to her ability to make people ‘see or think what I want them to see or think, and I can even make people do what I want them to do’?”
“Either she has forgotten about her special powers already or she’s too lazy to describe the following scene and this is her way of skipping it.”
“If she just stays in the car, can we go watch the canon scene?”
The RMC checked the Words and frowned. “She texts her friend and … Never mind, I’ll keep an eye on her, you can go watch.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Mittens, you’ll be standing right over there. I think I’ll be safe.”
So the RMC was handed the notebook and stayed to watch the Sue, who was texting her best friend Nick, who was ‘Bobby’s nephew and practically my brother‘.

Me: Damn it!
Him: Damn what?
Me: I have to stay in the car again!
Him: And I should care why?
Me: Dick.
Him: Meanie.

“So that’s the kind of conversation a girl genius, with an IQ of 360, has with her best friend,” the RMC muttered to itself.

Yeah, him and I have our own little name calling thingy. You know? Kind of like the one Sam and Dean have?

“No, it’s nothing like that. For one thing, their conversations are actually funny. I would charge you with stealing, except that you seem to have left empty-handed.”
Mittens returned, for which the RMC was grateful. Talking to itself felt kind of uncomfortable. It made it remember being locked up, alone.
“’Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you,’” Mittens quoted, with a chuckle.
The RMC smiled. “Hope you enjoyed it. I doubt we’ll be seeing much intact canon. Now, on to the next chapter.”

Name: Nickoli Thomas Singer

Age: 13 (He will also get older as the story prgresses)

A picture of Nick floated past them and disappeared.

Personality: People He Doesn’t Know: Vague, Quiet, Feirce.

“All three things at once?” Mittens mused.

People He Does Know: Sarcastic, Childish, Bubbly, Funny, Witty, Smart, Very Protective.

“You know,” the RMC said, looking up, as if addressing someone outside the Word World, “repeatedly stating that your characters are witty does not make them so. You have to actually write witty lines for them.”

Hobbies: Reading, Writing, Researching, Playing Computer Games, Hanging Out With Raven, Skate Boarding.

“Raven’s hobbies did not include ‘hanging out with Nick’,” said Mittens, who had started a new chargelist for Nick by writing on the last pages of the notebook.
“Almost enough to make you feel bad for him. Almost.”

His parents died when he was young by a poltergyste.

Both agents sniggered.
“I wonder what a ‘poltergyste’ is,” said Mittens.
“Obviously a bilingual pun, since ‘gyste’ is Danish for ‘shivered in fear’.”

So, his Uncle Bobby on his dad’s side took him in.

“So,” the RMC said, “he is both a non-canonical nephew and foster son to Bobby Singer. That’s like our Sue being both daughter and little sister to Dean.”

Half of his feels for Raven are like brother sister. The other half, however, is like feelings feelings, you know?

“Such eloquence in the description of luw and friendsheep,” said the RMC and downed another couple of Bleeprin. It checked the Words again. “They’re heading into town. You’ll watch the action for any more charges, I’ll go buy salt and kerosene.”

In the next chapter, Raven spelled Modesto as ‘Madesto(SP)‘ and Mittens aggravated the charge for knowingly spelling words wrong, then scooped up the punctuation marks for the RMC.

This one girl, she got murdered out on Centenial.

Mittens picked up the new mini-Hell Hound, Centenial, and placed it in the backpack with the others.
The RMC returned carrying a couple of shopping bags. Besides large quantities of salt and kerosene, it had bought chocolate and other goodies.“Anything interesting?”
Mittens shook his head. “Not really. They’re going to the library.”

Raven upstaged the brothers once again, by being the one who guessed, that they should search for articles about a suicide victim.

“This was 1918. Constance Welch, 24 years old jumps off Sylvainia Bridge and drowns in the river.”

“You fail at numbers as well as letters,” Mittens muttered, then bent to pick up Sylvainia the mini-Hell Hound. It barked in agreement, before being placed in the bag with the others.

An hour before they find her, she calls 911.

“In 1918? You fail at history as well,” said Mittens.

It was the same bridge that the cops were all over. So, that night we headed over there.

The RMC checked the Words ahead of them. “There’s some more copying the canon and except for the fact that she apparently enjoys watching the Winchesters argue, there are no new charges.” It frowned. “She uses her wings for the first time, but nothing comes of it. She just flies away from the possessed car. There’s a mini we need to pick up, but other than that, we can skip ahead.”
Mittens nodded and opened a portal.

That Constence chick, what a bitch!

Mittens picked up Constence and placed her in the backpack with the other minis.

Thank you Captian Obvious.

The RMC shifted both shopping bags to one hand, so it could use the other to pinch the bridge of its nose. “How do you manage to spell ‘captain’ wrong, but ‘obvious’ right?” it demanded.

Then the lack of a new paragraph caused both agents to be whipped through time and space and land in a small heap outside a motel.
“Is it just me,” began Mittens, getting up and helping the RMC to its feet, “or has the SPaG gotten worse? Back there she spelled genius as ‘genious’.”
“We could be dealing with deteriorating writing, caused by an author getting bored with her work,” agreed the RMC. “We need to watch ourselves in that case.” It looked at the Words again. “Let’s skip ahead.”

They portalled to where the cops were coming to arrest Sam and take Raven into custody.

I didn’t mind control them because I was trying to work on not using my powers. It really drains me.

“You are so full of it,” Mittens muttered, while scribbling the new charge.

The agents followed  Dean, Raven and the sheriff to the station. Raven listened in on the sheriff and Dean’s conversation.

“You talking like Mistimener kind of trouble, or, ‘Squel like a Pig’ trouble?” Dean asked. I remember that movie!

“You got a reference to a grown-up movie,” said the RMC flatly. “How nice for you.” It turned. “Mittens, brace yourself.”

I almost got up and punched the sheriff’s stomach right on the spot.

With a jerk, that made the two agents stumble and almost fall, everything was pulled sideways and through a wall, as the Word World adjusted to the fact, that Raven was not listening in on the conversation; she was in the interrogation room with Dean and the sheriff. A moment later, she shifted back to being outside and the room followed. She then spend a bit of time in a sort of quantum uncertainty, where she was both in the room and outside it, before finally settling on being outside. Then the officers left the station and she went into the room again, but at least this time, she used the door. Both agents glared at her, nauseated by the many shifts.

I broke off the handcuffs with ease. I’m super strong like that.

“And it gets worse,” said the RMC gloomily, as the next chapter started.
Dean was calling Sam; Raven was ignoring the conversation, in favour of playing ‘pac man’ on her phone, until it got serious.

I walked over to the nearbye parking lot and hot wired a car.

“Much, much worse.”

We drove up the road and I saw the Impala in the far of distance, and thats with my super vision.

Mittens carefully split the rest of the bottle of Bleeprin between them and they both downed a large – but not big enough – handful of pills.
The whole climatic battle from the pilot episode was abridged to a few, clumsily worded paragraphs. After that came a few rushed chapters wrapping up the end of the episode and then a chapter consisting of nothing but an Auther’s Note.

So, just do you know, Raven doesn’t go on every hunt. She mostly just stays with Bobby and Nick until I decide her next hunt. But I’ll do chapters on her school life and stuff so you’ll be entertained.

“Sure,” said the RMC, when it was safe to remove one’s hands from one’s ears again. “What people really want to read in a Supernatural fic is stuff about some girl in middle school, with Sam and Dean being nowhere in sight.” It once again got the distant look, that meant it was looking ahead in the Words. This time the look stayed on for a very long time. “Oh no,” it said.
“Is it … bad?” Mittens ventured to ask. He actually shivered a little. Whatever could make the RMC go ‘oh no’ after everything else in the fic, had to be very bad.
“Oh, yes,” came the reply, followed by a long silence. Finally it said: “First it’s all about her going to school and being a weirdo and there are some kids being introduced, who are supposed to be her new friends.” Its voice started to loose its calm and got more agitated. “Then she just as suddenly goes back on a hunt. But it’s still partly about Nick, who is Andy Biersack or at least will be when he starts his band and …” It broke off its rant and had to take a couple of deep breaths. “I will not have it!” it shouted so suddenly and loudly that Mittens jumped. Then it stamped its foot, which would have been more effective, if they hadn’t been in the Author’s Note nothingness, where there wasn’t anything for its foot to connect with. “Mittens! Open a portal!”
“Um, of course. Whereto?”
“To the end of the pilot episode. We’re going to get her there.” It looked at Mittens, a furious glare in its eyes, he couldn’t remember having ever seen before and didn’t care to ever see again. “We are agents of the PPC, we protect canons from bad fanfic, but we are not obliged to police bad real-person fanfics, which is what this is becoming. Not to mention, that it gets really, really ugly. We are going back to the last time this was decidedly a Supernatural-fanfic and then we’ll shut it down.”
Mittens took a while fiddling with the RA. Opening a portal to a previous chapter was much more difficult because, if not done properly, they risked crossing their own time stream and meeting themselves, which would be embarrassing.
“Bobby and Nick are the only ones, who are mentioned in the fanfic part,” said the RMC, once again calm. “We’ll neuralyze Bobby and kill the kid. From the way he’s written later, I’m not inclined to offer him recruitment.”
Mittens nodded and pressed the final button to open the portal, that took them back to the scene at Breckenridge Road.

“So,” Mittens started once more fiddling with the Remote Activator, “now we separate her from the Winchesters?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“No?” Mittens looked up, surprised.
“I think, call it a hunch or what you will, that it’s actually better for the canon, if we can make the canon characters snap out of it on their own. I know, we don’t usually do it that way, but the Winchesters are hunters; they have experience with all sorts of weird stuff, including mind control. Maybe we can talk to them.”
“If you say so.”
“But keep the RA handy, just in case it doesn’t work out.”

Mittens and the RMC walked up to the two canons and the Sue, who were all still standing by the empty house.
“Sam and Dean Winchester?” said the RMC.
Both men turned.
“Yeah, that’s us,” Dean replied. “Who are you?”
“We are fellow hunters … of a sort.
“Really? What are your names?”
“This is Mithrades and I’m … Aniseed.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of you. Where’ you from?”
“New Caledonia. And none of that matters. We are here to warn you about a very dangerous monster, that is stalking you.”
“What kind of monster?” asked Sam.
“Her.” The RMC pointed at Raven, who simply looked confused.
“If that’s a joke, it’s a very bad one,” said Dean. “If it’s not a joke, then let me tell you, that you are barking up the entirely wrong tree and I think you should leave and never come near my daughter again.”
“She’s not your daughter, she has simply manipulated you into thinking she is.”
Dean scoffed. “Bullshit!”
“Why? You know that she has the ability to manipulate people’s minds and she has never hesitated to use it on you.”
Dean opened his mouth, closed it again, looked at Raven, then at Sam, who looked equally confused, and finally back at the two agents. “Look, I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but she is my daughter, I know it.”
“You should go,” said Raven.
The RMC turned to look at her coldly. “I’m afraid that your jedi mind trick does not work on us,” it said and turned back to Dean. “What was her favourite toy, when she was little?”
Dean hesitated. “A teddy bear,” he said finally.
“Is that something you know or are you just guessing? What’s the name of her school?”
“I … I know it. I just can’t remember it right now.”
Mittens, who had been quiet until now, pointed at Raven. “What clothes are she wearing?”
They all turned to look at Raven. Unlike many other Sues, she had completely neglected to describe her outfit and was therefore wearing Generic Clothing. Until now it had defaulted to a sort of jeans-and-a-t-shirt outfit, but under the sudden scrutiny, it melted into something grey and foggy.
“She’s standing right there,” Mittens pressed on. “What is she wearing?”
“I don’t know,” Dean muttered. He was staring at Raven, as if he was seeing her for the first time, which wasn’t entirely untrue.
“That’s because she’s not really there, she has only made you think that she is,” said the RMC.
Dean looked from the agents back to Raven. “Who … are you?”
“This has gone far enough!” shouted Raven. “Dean, attack them!”
Dean immediately threw himself at Mittens, ignoring Sam, who yelled at him to stop and be rational about this.
Mittens, who’s lean appearance belied his real strength, managed to block Dean’s punch, but he wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up, especially since he was trying not to hurt Dean, who seemed to have no such qualms regarding him.
The RMC folded its hands together, the way Mittens had taught it, swung them like a club at the Sue’s head, the way Mittens had taught it and missed completely, which had not been one of Mittens’ lessons.
She glared at it. “I’ll …” she began, but the RMC never found out, what it was she intended to do. In the next moment, she fell to the ground, unconscious. The RMC looked at Sam who was standing right behind where the Sue had stood, then it turned and looked at Dean and Mittens who had each other by the throats and were playing a game of who-passes-out-first.
“I think we should separate them,” it said.
“I think you’re right,” replied Sam.

“I want some answers!” Dean demanded, a few moments later. “Who is this girl? Why did I believe she was my kid? What was she trying to do to us?”
“All your questions will be answered in a moment, if you’ll look here,” the RMC said, pulling out the Neuralyzer.
“Hey, Sam! Close your eyes!” shouted Dean. “It’s one of those flashy thingies from Men in Black! They’re trying to make us forget!”
“It’s called a Neuralyzer,” the RMC said. “And, well, yes, I was.” It exchanged a glance with Mittens.
“Awkward,” he muttered.
“There are mind controlling monsters stalking the world and you just want us to forget, huh?” said Dean.
The RMC mulled this over for a moment. “Isn’t that kind of hypocritical? You and Sam rarely go around telling people about the things that go bump in the night.”
“That’s different,” said Dean. “Ordinary people can’t handle that sort of knowledge. They don’t even want it. But Sam and I are hunters. We can handle it.”
“Sorry, but no. There are things that even hunters like you can’t handle. Now, just open you eyes and lets get this over with.”
“No!” said Dean.
“Look,” said Sam. He was trying very hard for his puppy eyed look, which was surprisingly effective, even with closed eyes. “If you make us forget, we’ll be easy prey the next time one of those monsters shows up. You should tell us about them instead.”
“Don’t worry, if that happens, we’ll be there to protect you.”
“You are only two,” Sam argued. “What if something happens to you?”
“There are other hunters like us,” said the RMC. “They’ll look after you. And speaking of them, if you won’t let us neuralyze you, someone else will show up and get the job done. You can’t escape it. Might as well make it easy on all of us.”
Dean scoffed. “We’ll deal with whoever you send.”
“Tell me,” said the RMC, “aren’t you curious, as to why Raven couldn’t compel me and my partner?”
“Why do you want to tell us that, if you plan to erase our memories anyway?” asked Sam.
“I thought you might find it interesting. You see, it’s because she had already established that she couldn’t compel people who have something demonic in them, so it makes sense, that she certainly wouldn’t be able to manipulate an actual demon and a hellspawn.”
“What?” Dean forgot himself and opened his eyes in surprise. So did Sam.
“Sam and Dean Winchester, you do not know a girl named Raven, who claims to be Dean’s daughter. Any lingering memories of it, will have been an odd dream, caused by too much junk food before bedtime. You have just defeated the White Woman and now Sam wants to go home.”
The RMC pocketed the Neuralyzer, then picked up Raven who, being a Bird Kid, weighed almost nothing.
Mittens opened a portal and took the RMC’s shopping bags.
“Nice one with the clothes, Mittens,” said the RMC with a smile and walked though the portal.
Mittens blushed, smiled and followed.

Raven blinked a couple of times, her gaze slowly focusing on first Mittens, then the RMC, then at their surroundings. They were in an open field in the middle of nowhere. She was tied up and gagged.
“You’re awake,” said the RMC. “Finally. Now we can read your charges.”
Mittens opened the notebook. “Raven Natasha Winchester, as agents of the PPC we hereby charge you with having a supremely stupid story title; grossly violating the ‘show, don’t tell’ rule; redundancy; repeating things; creation of the mini-Hell Hounds Winchster, Burdafromniam, Centenial, Sylvainia and Constence; horrendous crimes against spelling, punctuation and grammar, especially tenses; with having a back story that managed to somehow be both a rip-off and not make a lick of sense.”
He stopped reading for a moment to look at her. “That’s actually quite a feat, because normally, in stories like this, the only parts that make sense are the ones stolen from elsewhere.”
He looked back in the notebook. “Where was I? Oh, yes. You are furthermore charged with giving yourself a ridiculous array of speshul abilities and powers and then placing random limitations on them, when using them would mean, that you would have to deviate from canon. You are especially charged with not knowing how an IQ score works and just giving yourself a random high number. This is made worse by the fact, that you sounded and acted like a moron throughout the story. You are charged with insulting Agatha Hetrodyne; having whole chapters with nothing but character stats; cruelty to a poor antelope; mentioning Wincest in a Suefic; being a horrible person; assuming that everyone else are horrible persons as well; not only stealing lines, but stealing the lines that made you look clever, thus making other people look stupid; having a bilingual pun, when you can barely manage your own language; making dumb mental comments and multiple instances of adding question marks after words you had spelled wrong.”
The RMC stepped forward. “Despite your many crimes against SPaG,” it said, “you have a grasp of the basics and you actually use that knowledge. You must have some idea about the value of proper grammar. So why didn’t you try harder? Use a spell check or at least look up words that you know, you can’t spell.” It stepped back.
Mittens whacked Raven over the head with the notebook for good measure, then continued reading. “You’re also charged with having the …” he squinted at the words the RMC had written, “… the most inane text conversation in the history of texting; with being a Mary Sue and with annoying PPC agents, for which the punishment is death.”
The RMC stepped forward again. “Normally our chargelist ends there. And normally we don’t charge for crimes we have only read in the Words and not witnessed ourselves, but we are willing to make an exception with you. We therefore charge you with loosing interest in your own story and rather than having the common decency to just abandon it, you hijack it. We charge you with turning a Supernatural fanfic into a real-person fanfic about this Andy Biersack, who we don’t really know and don’t care who is, but who we are sure, did not deserve to be dragged into this mess.”
Mittens pocketed the notebook and looked at the RMC. “Do you think we need to kill her in a special way? Like with a dagger that has been blessed seven times? Or maybe we should use a woodchipper; apparently, that works on most things.”
“I don’t think so. She hasn’t mentioned anything about being invincible. We should just make sure, that she doesn’t come back to haunt canon more than she already have, by salting and burning her.”
“Should she be alive or dead when we do that?”
There was a pause. Raven shivered, her gaze darting from one to the other, as Mittens used the time to sprinkle her with salt and pour kerosene on her.
Finally the RMC said: “Well, they’re always dead when they do it in canon, so I guess we have to kill her first.”
Mittens looked from the gun to the crossbow, decided on the crossbow, pointed it at Raven and fired.
There was a long drawn-out scream, muffled by the gag.
“Oops,” Mittens said flatly. “Was that your kneecap?” He retrieved the bolt and fired again, this time into her left eye.
The Sue turned back into an inflated dummy and glitter started streaming out of the two holes like sparkly smoke. Mittens stroked a match and let it drop on the dummy. The flames rose instantly and engulfed the cloud.
“We’re going to be in trouble about loosing a dummy,” he said.
The RMC shrugged. “Had to be done,” it said. “Unless the Flowers wanted a Glittery Woman who haunts the roads, luring unsuspecting canons to their deaths. Now, let’s go take care of Bobby and Nick.”

They neuralyzed Bobby and dragged off with Nick. After charging him with being a non-canonical nephew and foster-son of Bobby, engaging in inane texting, aiding and abetting a Sue and conspiring to do further crimes, he was executed by a gunshot through the head and the body salted and burned.
“What do you think happens with the rest of the OCs; I mean the ones from the rest of the fic?” asked Mittens, as he started opening a portal back to their RC.
The RMC shrugged. “They’ll never exist, I guess. Like in that episode with Titanic. A lot of people who were never supposed to be.” It smiled. “Possibly there’s a little book now, with their names in, belonging to Atropos.”
The portal opened and they walked though.

“We have new minis,” announced Mittens, as they stepped back into RC#170.
“Where?” asked Saxo, who was decorating half of the Response Centre with green fir branches and silver ornaments. James was hanging red and golden decorations on the other half.
“Right there,” said Mittens, pointing.
Both James and Saxo looked at the Yorkshire Terriers, who were already sniffing the floor and sending cautions looks in Aniseed’s direction. Except that they didn’t seem to look at them, as much as in their general direction.
“Where?” asked James, with a frown.
“Oh, I forgot,” said the RMC. “Hell Hounds can’t be seen by ordinary humans and such and neither can the minis, it would seem.”
“I’m not an ordinary human,” replied Saxo, indignantly.
“Neither am I,” said James.
“I did say ‘and such’,” replied the RMC. “Mittens and I can only see them, because …”
It was interrupted by a small ‘beep’ that indicated a message. “Will you get that, Mittens? No doubt we are being summoned to be berated about loosing the dummy.”
Mittens checked the message, frowned and turned. “We’re being transferred,” he said.

[Author’s Notes: This is from the newly discovered Circle of Lemmings. It’s not possible to copy paste from there, so all excerpts from the fic have been written in by me. I have tried to write everything exactly as it was, but it’s possible that I might have added some SPaG mistakes (not likely) or accidentally corrected some (more likely).

Mittens and the Radioactive Moss Creature are from an unpublished novel about angels and devils I wrote, before even knowing what Supernatural was. Any similarities between the two continua are coincidental, but highly amusing.

Despite the RMC’s rant. I am not against the sporking of real-person fics; I just think they require a lot more care and thought. In fact, if That Guy With The Glasses didn’t seem to be a self-sporking canon, I might have written a mission there. However, I had never heard of Andy Biersack before this. (When this fic caught my eye for the first time, there was no mention of him, neither in the title nor anywhere else.) Hardly a good starting point for a sporking. And while I won’t go into details, there were several things in that part of the story, that made me feel uncomfortable or even angry, and none of it made me feel, that I could get good humour from it.
Also, the later Supernatural parts were just the Sue once again – in Mittens’ words – inserting herself into canon and not adding anything but rubbish. Except for the occasional mini, there were no new charges and no new jokes. Therefore, I decided to simply wrap it up.]

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Agents Mittens and the Radioactive Moss Creature were on their way back from RC#9L0121F4114C3, walking backwards through the corridors of Headquarters, when the RMC said: “Now, about that Sparkewolf …”
Mittens’ mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Finally he swallowed and said: “How did you know? I thought I snatched it when everyone were distracted.”
“I don’t think Agents Shieh and Elerossiel noticed a thing. I certainly didn’t see you take it. I just heard you lament the fate of the poor mini and then you went awfully quiet on the subject. It didn’t seem like you at all.”
“I didn’t mean for anyone to know. I didn’t want anyone else to get into trouble.”
“Mittens …”
“We can’t send it back. We can’t.”
“You know the rules as well as I do. We can’t keep it.”
“I’m not talking about about keeping it. But we can’t let it be stuck in badfics forever. We just can’t.”
The RMC was surprised and a little bit shocked to see that Mittens’ eyes were wet. It was enough to make its mossy heart ache. Mittens, who always did his duty, who never complained and who never asked for anything.
It lowered its head. “Can’t send it back, can’t get it adopted. What we need,” it lifted its head again, “is a third option. And I have an idea as to who might provide that.” It lifted a paw to stop Mittens saying anything. “Mind you, I haven’t promised anything. If we get a no, then the mini goes back. I’m giving it a chance, nothing more.”
Despite these words, Mittens beamed a smile at the RMC.
“Now we just have to find …” the RMC began, then stopped when it noticed the sign on a door on their left, “… RC#412. Which is right here. Well, I guess it was a rather distracting conversation we were having.” It looked at Mittens. “Go on. Knock.”

On one hand, there was no answer when Mittens knocked on the door. On the other hand the door wasn’t closed properly and opened when he knocked on it. The Agents looked at each other, shrugged and entered a small room. It didn’t seem like anyone was living here, since the room contained nothing but a desk with a computer and a chair, in which a woman was sitting. She gave a small start and turned to look at them with a guilty expression as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t, while at the same time closing a browser window.
She blinked. “Oh,” she said. “It’s you.” Then, as if remembering her manners: “What can I do for you?”
The RMC turned to Mittens. “Close the door please.” When it had been done, it said: “Mittens, this is EileenAlphabet, Agent of the Department of Intelligence and author self-insert.”
Mittens stuck out his hand, which Eileen took, a bit awkwardly. He noticed that she was wearing nail polish, which was in a fetching shade of blue, but so worn and chipped, that on average only half of each nail was covered.
Eileen looked at the RMC. “So, how may I be of assistance?”
The RMC looked straight back at her, as it said. “Mittens, show her the mini.”
Mittens didn’t hesitate, but placed the backpack on the floor and took out the mini-Sparklewolf in question.
Eileen looked at the wolf questioningly, but said nothing, apparently waiting for an explanation.
“This,” the RMC said, “is a mini-Sparklewolf.” It paused. “It’s name is Stephanie.”
It took a moment, the understanding dawned on Eileens face. “Oh,” she said.
“Yes, oh,” the RMC agreed. “You know what the problem is. It can’t be adopted and there’s no OFU for Twilight it can be sent to. We were hoping that you, being what you are, could help us find a solution.”
“What, are you expecting me to start a Twilight OFU?”
“Certainly not.” The RMC actually shuddered a bit at the thought. “We were hoping you could think of a third solution. Come up with something creative.”
Eileen leaned back in her chair. “If I could do that – and I’m not saying that I can, but if I could – you realise that the Flowers very much frown on this type of thing? An author self insert, using her … abilities to break a stated rule? That’s more than halfway to Suedom right there.”
“I’ve been led to understand as much. But I have to admit, I can’t see the harm in writing a happy end for this poor mini.”
Eileen smiled, an odd smile, and leaned forwards towards the mini-Sparklewolf. Mittens shuffled his feet uneasily. Something about her seemed different suddenly. She started to speak and her voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere other that her lips.
“The authoress reached out towards the cute mini-Sparklewolf.’”
Mittens shivered. Stephanie looked fluffier and more glittery than before. He looked at Eileen’s hand as she reached out towards it. The nail polish was perfectly smooth and without the smallest scratch.
“’Do you need a place to stay, little one? You can stay with me and those evil Flowers won’t have anything to say about it.’”
Her hand was almost touching the mini-Sparklewolf’s head. It gave a low whine, but seemed rooted to the spot, unable to move. Then she pulled back her hand; the nail polish was chipped again.
“No.” She looked at them with an ironic smile. “This wasn’t what you had in mind when you asked me to think of something to bend the rules?”
The RMC shook its head.
Eileen once more leaned back in her chair. Her demeanour was now crisp and businesslike. “We can get in a world of trouble for doing this and no doubt we will. But I’m afraid you came to the the right person. I never could refuse someone asking me to help a small fluffy creature.” She reached out and scratched the mini-Sparklewolf behind the ears. It thumped its tail against the floor enthusiastically. “I’ll think up something for Stephanie here. But you’ll owe me one” She sighed. “And if the Flowers find out – and I suspect they already know – you owe me an even bigger one.”

The noises from RC#170 could be heard not only though the closed door, but a rather long way down the corridor.
Mittens sighed. “There they go again. No doubt they started fighting the moment we left and have been at it ever since.” He opened the door and he and the RMC stepped inside.
The sight that greeted them was not quite what they had expected. James and Saxo were facing each other across the small table; James was growling and Saxo had his own teeth bared and none of them had noticed the other two Agents enter. It looked like they had been sitting down for a cup of tea or something and had then gotten into an argument. But that was of course impossible. They would never sit down to have tea with one another.
Then Mittens noticed the small tiles that were strewn on the floor and bent to pick one up. It had the letter C on it and a small number 8 in one corner. He showed it to the RMC who looked from it to the two agents.
“Have you been playing Scrabble?” it asked.
They broke off their staring contest and turned to the RMC, both looking a bit sheepish.
James found his voice first. “I have been playing. That … that craven blackguard,” he pointed at Saxo, “have simply been cheating.”
“Rules are for muggles and weaklings. The strong and capable make their own rules,” Saxo replied loftily, which made James start to growl again.
“No fighting, please,” the RMC said.
“Why are there more mini-Aragogs than usually?” asked Mittens, who had been looking around.
Saxo and James looked at him, then at each other, then back at the other two and then they started to tell them about a mission, they had been on. It was all rather jumbled together and it didn’t help, that they kept interrupting each other, but Mittens and the RMC gathered, that it had been a really awful fic and that they had defeated it together.
“In that case,” said the RMC, “we congratulate you. You are no longer newbies or trainees. You are full agents and real partners.”
Saxo and James eyed each other unenthusiastically at these words.
“We should celebrate with some tea,” Mittens said. “And you know, I have some biscuits, that I have been saving for an occasion like this.” He walked towards the small kitchenette.
Saxo and James gave each other a look of sheer panic this time, before rushing up to Mittens, almost dragging him away from the cupboard and assuring him that they most certainly did not need any biscuits.

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Eledhwen and Christianne team up with Mittens and the Radioactive Moss Creature from the Department of Floaters to take out a confusing Twilight/Sherlock Crossover Sue.

The console in RC #170 gave a small [Bing]. Mittens frowned, got up and pressed the button to read the message, then turned to the RMC.

“It says we are to go to RC #9L0121F4114C3 and await further instructions. It also says to bring the Fictionary.”

Saxo groaned. “Not another Twilight mission.”

Mittens gave a small cough. “I’m sorry. I should have been more specific. When I said ‘we’ I only meant the Radioactive Moss Creature and I.”

“But,” James asked, “what are we, I mean, him,” the small fox-person shot a dirty look at Saxo, “and me supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Don’t kill each other,” Mittens replied.

“Read a book,” the RMC suggested.

“Keep an eye on the minis, Aniseed and the Prefect Badger,” Mittens continued.

“Or watch a movie or play a game.”

“Don’t break anything.”

“One cannot know too many canons.”

“And for the love of whatever …”

“Just …”

“Don’t get into trouble!” the two agents finished together.

James saluted. Saxo just nodded once.

“Good,” the RMC said. “Mittens, will you get our equipment and then we’ll be on our way?”

A couple of minutes later, the door slammed shut behind the two agents and Saxo and James were left to eye each other nervously.


“You think they’ll manage?” Mittens asked. Both he and the RMC were walking backwards, having found that this was the fastest way to get to their destination in HQ. Constantly walking into walls, furniture and occasionally other people, was very distracting.

“It’s a swim or sink situation,” the RMC replied. “They’ll have to learn eventually. One more mission and they’ll be full agents and then they’ll probably be assigned to …” It bumped into what turned out to be some female agents and turned to apologize before continuing. “To their own RC and won’t have us around to keep them in line anyway.”

“Yes, but …” Mittens would have liked to talk this over some more, which of course meant that when he bumped into something and turned to look at it, it was a door with RC #9L0121F4114C3 written on it; they had arrived. They turned around and Mittens knocked on the door.


After a long and terrifying [BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP] from the console which ended with Christianne hitting it repeatedly with a katana (relic from her Naruto days), the tired agent sat down heavily and stared at the fic that came up.

“Fuck,” she muttered. Her partner Eledhwen raised an eyebrow as she looked up from where she lay, almost corpse-like, on her bed.

Sevin dhaw?” asked the elleth.

Christianne blinked. “You only taught me cursewords. What?”

“May I?” Eledhwen snickered.

Christianne raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you swung that way.”

“What does my swinging have to do with things?”

“…” Christianne rolled her eyes. “Never you mind. Are there gay Elves?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” replied Eledhwen, shrugging. “No one has ever been marginalised for it, if that’s the case. We are all Eru’s children.”

“Yeah, I wish some people would remember that sort of thing.” Christianne turned back to the console. “That’s…” she paused, blinked, and tried to read it again. “I… what on earth… I’m confused…”

Eledhwen got up and walked over to the console, looking at the screen with a frown.

“Twilight… and Sherlock,” she mumbled, grimacing. “Sparklepires, hm?”

Christianne made a gagging noise. “At least we’ll have some help with this from some Floaters in RC… 170, wasn’t it?” she reasoned. “Can’t be that bad –”

She was interrupted by a knock at the door and faint cackling from above, which signified that the Ironic Overpower was about to become very, very active.

Eledhwen leapt to her feet. “That must be the Floaters,” she reasoned, nancing over to the door (Christianne scowled at that) and opening it. “Suil! Ni veren an gi ngovaned. Im Eledhwen Elerossiel.”

The two agents standing on the other side of the door only stared blankly at her. Christianne rolled her eyes.

“Ellie, they don’t understand Sindarin.”

Eledhwen huffed in annoyance. “Greetings,” she repeated, in a much less chipper tone. “I am happy to meet you. My name is Eledhwen Elerossiel.”

One of the agents, a very unremarkable looking young man, took a step forward and held out his hand in an awkward way that suggested that while he had heard of the concept of handshakes, he had never actually tried it and furthermore, he was not sure what it was supposed to be good for. Eledhwen took his hand, trying to look polite about it, and then let go.

“I am Agent Mittens,” he said. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Agent Elerossiel.” He gestured next to him and downwards. Both Eledhwen and Christianne tried hard to not stare at the green anteater with the brown fedora on its head. And was it made of… moss? Even for the PPC, that was weird.

“This is my partner, the Radioactive Moss Creature.”

“Radioactive?” Christianne echoed, noticing to her own annoyance that her voice sounded a tiny bit squeaky.

“It’s not at a dangerous level,” Agent Mittens said. “Just enough to let a Geiger counter know it’s there.”

“Oh,” Christianne said, looking at the Moss Creature curiously. It was kind of cute, with big soulful eyes, even though it was hard to tell how eyes made of moss could be soulful. A small cough from Eledhwen brought her back to the present situation. She looked up.

Mittens had his hand stretched out towards her and an uncertain look on his face, as if he was wondering if he had messed up this handshaking thing. Christianne quickly grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously.

“I’m Christianne Shieh,” she said.

“Pleased to meet you, Agent Shieh.”

“You too, Agent Mittens,” Christianne said, making up for her lapse in manners. “And you, Agent Radioactive Moss Creature.”

It nodded its head at her. It was amazing that the hat didn’t slide off.

“So, with the introductions taken care of!” Eledhwen beamed, walking back to the console. “Crossover between BBC Sherlock and Twilight. I know Chrissy is very cynical about Sparklepires –”

“So are you –” cut in Christianne.

Eledhwen glared at her. “I know we only know enough about the Twilight canon to be cynical about it. What about you, then? How much do you know?”

“Er, not much,” Mittens replied. “But we have this thing called a Fictionary that tells us everything we need to know in a canon.”

“Interesting,” Eledhwen said. “How does it work?”

Mittens looked down at the Radioactive Moss Creature, which said something that sounded like: “Ike a cao asys evice.”

“Like a Canon Analysis Device,” Mittens translated. “Only it gives longer descriptions.”

“Sounds useful,” Christianne observed. “That is, as long as it doesn’t short out near OOC canons, or…”

Mittens shrugged. “Right now it seems that all it does is get us sent into Twilight crossovers.”

“Sounds like fun,” Christianne deadpanned. “Well, it seems like we’re all set to go. We’ve got a Crash Dummy, for the first-person nature of the fic, too. So if you’re packed and ready as well, then maybe we should just hop to it?”

“ouns ike a lan,” the RMC said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Mittens translation-repeated.

“You have your Bleeprin?” Eledhwen asked, her hand hovering over the console.

“Copious amounts,” Mittens replied.

“Good.” The elleth wasn’t quite sure about the two agents they were about to go on a mission with, but anyone who knew to bring large quantities of Bleeprin couldn’t be completely wet behind the ears. “Disguises, then? I could be wrong, being from Arda and all, but the people of Forks might not consider a mossy anteater-creature a normal fixture of the local fauna.”

“Uman dsguses fr you n me,” agreed the RMC.

Nodding, Eledhwen pressed the corresponding buttons. She then opened the portal, set the Me Crash Dummy on the other side, and pulled the string. “Onwards to Forks, then.”


“So, exactly what century are we in?” demanded Christianne as soon as the portal faded and the four humans – or one human, two humanoids, and a plant-based creature disguised as a human – landed outside an ordinary-looking house in the sun-deprived town of Forks, Washington.

“I should hope I set the time to twenty-first century,” Eledhwen replied, drawing out her long-neglected Polaroid and taking pictures of the trees. Everything was so green; it was so refreshing!

Christianne groaned with the air of someone whose friend had missed the joke. “Just look at the words, lembas-head,” she grumbled.

“I could be wrong,” Mittens mumbled as he pulled out of his word-reading trance, “but it could indicate a German-speaking background…”

“Well, as long as she’s not using the long S we’ll assume this isn’t the seventeenth century,” grumbled Christianne.

“Look on the brighter side,” Eledhwen chirped from above them – the agents looked up to see their Elvish colleague sitting in a tree, peering into a window at the side of the house. “At least the Sue uses some dialogue punctuation. As opposed to, you know, dropping it completely.”

Christianne rolled her eyes. “Like we needed to be reminded of that,” she muttered. In a louder voice, she asked, “Well, then? What’s the Sue up to?”

“She’s calling Sherlock,” Eledhwen reported, already jotting down charges as the Crash Dummy continued her call, evidently in hysterics of some sort. “I think she told us to ‘answer the damn phone’ earlier. Is that a charge?”

“Probably,” agreed the RMC, who, in human form, still bore a brown fedora. It looked suitably androgynous, with green hair that would look, to any onlookers, like a rather bad dye job. It was also clad in green clothing.

“A foul scent lingers in the air,” Eledhwen declared suddenly, as the Sue hung up. “It has the odour of Stulock.”

“Not again!” complained Christianne.

Eledhwen shrugged. “It could just be out of character behaviour,” she reasoned. “Hard to tell from one call. She’s now turned into Cat, with a capital C.”

“What?” The RMC demanded, and then checked the words. “Oh, right. Feline grace. I see.”

Eledhwen was frowning again. “I think she’s in two places at once. Isn’t her room on the second floor?”

“Isn’t that where bedrooms tend to be?” Christianne wondered.

“She said she was rushing downstairs, and then she starts replacing things in her room, which suggests that she went back upstairs, because Charlie’s calling from downstairs, but –” Eledhwen cut off. “I have a headache.”

“You mean to say she’s defying the laws of physics?” asked the RMC.

“Possibly, yes,” Eledhwen replied, jotting down the charge. “Is that what you call it?”

“Being in two places at once, defying gravity, those sorts of things, yeah,” agreed the RMC. “Either that, or she actually has all of her personal belongings in the bathroom.”

Eledhwen nodded, and resumed spying on the Sue’d Crash Dummy.

“I’m confused,” Mittens said suddenly, looking up from the Fictionary. “Is she or is she not Bella Swan?”

“Excellent question. I’m not sure.” Christianne checked the words. “Looks like a character replacement to me, considering her situation. She’s supposed to be in hiding as Bella Swan, right?”

“Yes, she took out a set of dice from her hair a couple minutes ago,” Eledhwen called. “But if she’s in hiding to the point where she maintains the persona even at her house, then why tell Charlie that Sherlock was coming over? Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of hiding the skull?”

“Why would she even own a skull? It’s not a Holmes accessory,” sniffed Christianne.

“And why is she in hiding to begin with? And why is it suddenly more important to get Sherlock over, than to remain incognito?” Mittens added.

“The Cullens just showed up,” Eledhwen announced.

“I’ll go have a look,” the RMC agreed as it got the Fictionary from Mittens and climbed up next to her. A few moments later it was shaking its head as it checked the Fictionary. “If she never tried to kill herself, then there’s no reason for them to return. And why is she acting like she doesn’t care about them, when she was heartbroken a minute before?”

“Did Emmett just call her Belly-Bean?” Eledhwen asked, disgusted.

Both Christianne and Mittens looked at the words. Bella was asking Charlie if she could ‘deduce’ Edward.

Mittens facepalmed. “You know him. You’ve been in a relationship with him. What do you think you’ll be able to deduce that you don’t already know?”

“That’s a dangerous assumption, that Bella thinks at all,” muttered Christianne.

That question was never answered, as Bella was interrupted by her phone.

“Trying to hide the fact that she couldn’t deduce her way out of a paper bag,” Christianne snarked. Mittens smirked.

“She just told them to leave and now she’s taking a bath. Again,” the RMC reported from further up. “This time she shaved. I suppose it is refreshing to have a Sue who isn’t naturally smooth as a marble statue.”

Eledhwen made a disgusted noise. “Mycroft is being all warm and fuzzy.”

Christianne and Mittens checked the words again, just in time to raise their arms to protect them from a minor punctuation rain and then hold their ears to block out the bellow of an author’s note.

“New chapter, incoming!” Christianne yelled.


“She spelled Stephenie Meyer’s name wrong. Why am I not surprised?” Christianne demanded as soon as the disclaimer of the second chapter ended and a mini-Sparklewolf called ‘Stephanie’ dropped out of nowhere.

“Poor mini has nowhere to go,” lamented Mittens. “Can’t be adopted, and there’s no OFU for Twilight… is there?”

“Let’s not discuss what they’d attempt to teach there,” Christianne grumbled as the glittering canine nipped at her ankles.

There was a lurch in the ground suddenly, as the story inexplicably skipped to a week after the first scene. Eledhwen retched, fumbling for the motion sickness pills in her bag. She nearly upended the entire bottle into her mouth.

“You all right?” asked the RMC.

“I’ve been worse,” Eledhwen replied, shrugging.

“DoSAT’s trying to work on a set of LCD shutter glasses that might be able to help with spatial distortions, but I’m not sure about temporal ones,” Christianne added helpfully as Eledhwen clambered down from the tree, the RMC in tow.

“We should portal to the airport,” Mittens added. “She’ll be there in a moment.”

Eledhwen looked at the words. The Sue had gotten dressed, describing her outfit in painstaking detail, and then –

“Rhiach!” swore the elleth, as the ground lurched again – a bit softer, this time, but still noticeable. Isabella-Sue had more or less driven herself and her car to the airport via temporal distortion, and Eledhwen certainly looked worse for wear for it. With shaking hands, she opened a portal to the airport, and the four of them stepped through.

15 minutes and 39 seconds later My impala was parked in front of the Airport, waiting for Mycroft, Sherlock, and John’s plane to land.

The RMC consulted the Fictionary. “Bella Swan’s car can’t be a Chevrolet Impala,” it said, as the Sue’d Crash Dummy left her car to get a coffee.

“No, isn’t that the car that the Winchesters use in Supernatural?” asked Christianne.

The RMC nodded. “That’s a little ironic,” it snickered.

“Admittedly, though, since she didn’t capitalise Impala, it’s safe to assume she actually meant the animal.” Eledhwen pointed out, and sure enough, the sleek yet slightly outdated (it was an old model, according to John) automobile turned into a grazing African impala.

“Have fun explaining that,” snickered Christianne as they entered the arrivals terminal of the airport. Up ahead, Isabella saw a curly head that, apparently, belonged to Sherlock.

“Sherlock!”Running as fast as I could towards him, I jumped on him, hugging the daylights out of him.

The agents were treated to a not-very-pretty scene of a Crash Dummy with curly black hair and blue eyes tackleglomping Sherlock and squeezing rays of sunlight right out of his body. And for some unexplained reason, Sherlock didn’t seem to mind.

Eledhwen’s heavy-duty CAD screeched. The elleth yelped, ducking behind a generic baggage carousel and pulling out the device. It flashed at her:

[Sherlock Holmes. Human Male. Canonononono what is going on? He can’t touch canon with a 221-metre long pole at the very LEAST. Out of Character 78.49950349823847% CHARACTER RUPTURE!]

“So snarky,” grumbled the elleth as she straightened up and aimed the CAD at Mycroft and then John.

[Mycroft Holmes. Human Male. Canon???? Length of pole needed to touch canon: 150.33242343 metres. Out of Character 67.2474747474747474747% CHARACTER RUPTURE!]

[John Watson. Human Male. Canon. Length of pole needed to touch canon: 95.32454764321456432465. Out of Character 49.9999999999%]

“It’s always the Holmeses,” Christianne remarked, leaning over Eledhwen’s shoulder to peer at the screen.

“Admittedly, it is rather hard to write insufferable geniuses right, especially in canons that seek to develop their personalities,” Mittens pointed out.

“Doesn’t excuse what Izzy-Sue’s doing to Sherlock and Mycroft,” Christianne grumbled as Eledhwen pocketed the CAD.

Meanwhile, back with the Sue, it appeared that her cheeks were now composed of acute and obtuse angles, and that she had temporarily fused herself with Sherlock only to ‘detach [her]self from Sherlock’s body’ to hug Mycroft.

John then used the wrong form of ‘two’, causing four identical cringes a couple feet away, and fused himself with Izzy-Sue in a hug. Four agents reached for their Bleeprin.

“Hello, Izzy! I missed you. You were the only one that kept Sherlock in line.” He smiles and let go of me. “Why don’t we head to you home and settle in, then we can catch up, okay?”

For a moment, the world shifted into present tense, and Eledhwen rushed for the nearest toilets. “She has it bad,” remarked Mittens sympathetically, patting Christianne’s back. Christianne shrugged.

“I’m trying to figure out what she can do to get rid of it,” she replied, shrugging.

“Have you tried chocolate milk?” the RMC suggested. “Could help a bit with the timey-wimey things.”

“I thought that was a symptom of someone fucking with time, not a cure,” Christianne pointed out.

“Chocolate’s a cure-all,” declared Mittens, grinning. “Or at least that’s what Johanna tells me all the time.”

“Johanna?” Christianne looked at him curiously. “Your girlfriend?”

Mittens blushed a rather unfetching shade of scarlet. “Nonono, she’s not. She a friend of my boss. Former boss, I should say. Wait,” he looked at the Sue, “did she just say it would take them an hour to drive back to Forks? Even though it took her just over 15 minutes the other way?”

Christianne raised an eyebrow. “Nice try, but I still want to hear some more about your not-girlfriend. And banging your head into the wall isn’t going to distract me either.”

“Mittens,” the RMC snapped, “just have some more Bleeprin and lets portal back.” It looked around. “Once Eledhwen gets back from the restroom.”

“There’s a cliffhanger at the end of the chapter,” Christianne added, as Mittens downed a tablet of Bleeprin.

“No kidding, Sherlock,” Eledhwen deadpanned as she returned from the restroom. She was looking almost as green as the RMC’s hair.

“At least she didn’t write ‘Dun-dun-dunn!’ at the end,” the RMC pointed out. “Incoming author’s note!”


“Well, that was stupid,” Mittens said when it was once again safe to remove one’s hands from one’s ears. They’d portalled from the airport back to the Swan residence, just in time to see…

Moriarty stood above Charlie’s body, laughing. I felt the tears begin to pool in my eyes, but I fought to hold them back, refusing to show weakness in front of him.

“Sh-sherlock!” I screamed in hopes of getting away from Moriarty, the only man I had ever feared.

“Oh, great,” Christianne grumbled, pointing to Charlie’s corpse. The Crash Dummy Sue was sobbing and screaming for Sherlock, as if just yelling Sherlock’s name would protect her from a deranged criminal mastermind. “Now we got a dead canon on our hands.”

“We’ll just take him to Medical. I hear they’re really good at fixing these things,” Mittens stated matter-of-factly.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Eledhwen said stiffly, “because then we can focus on how complete and utterly wrong it is for Moriarty to get his hands dirty like this.”

“Is that … is that ‘worry plastered across his face’?” Mittens asked, pointing at Sherlock. They all stared, then reached for some more Bleeprin.

“At least she didn’t say that he had it staple-gunned on his face,” Christianne said, through a mouthful of pills.

“You’ve actually experienced that?” the RMC asked.

“No, but now that I’ve mentioned it I’m sure the Ironic Overpower will make sure it happens,” she replied with a sigh. The RMC and Mittens cringed; Eledhwen was too busy trying to remember what a staple gun was.

Moriarty then somehow managed to take out the blood from his knife without the handkerchief he’d just pulled out. Because he had his lines in three separate paragraphs, that only added to the confusion by creating three Moriarties.

“Well, you know, there were three James Moriarties in the original canon,” Christianne muttered, rolling her eyes.

Mittens raised an eyebrow. “There were?”

“Two,” Eledhwen amended. “Two James Moriarties, and a third Moriarty brother everyone just assumes to also be called James.”

“I bet that made calling for them around the house extremely easy on his mother,” deadpanned Mittens.

“Now Sherlock, Who’s more important your Dear Baby Sister or your Dear Doctor? Tik-tok, Sherlock, Tik-tok”

And without further warning, the song “Tik Tok” began to play. “Why do we never think to bring Glopsnerch?” demanded Eledhwen to Christianne, who had her fingers plugged into her ears. Much to Christianne’s chagrin, the annoyingly autotuned voice of Ke$ha could still be heard.

“Because you’re a forgetful idiot!” Christianne shouted back. Mittens and the RMC watched them rather bemusedly, both of them having produced matching sets of Glopsnerch earmuffs.

The Crash Dummy Sue started to cry, somehow ‘ruinging’ her makeup. The following bits of dialogue had other people’s actions tagged to them, making it seem as if Mycroft, who was then running through the door looking uncharacteristically ‘worried and angry’, was saying Moriarty’s lines.

“I have a headache,” Christianne grumbled as the Sue turned ‘parylized with fear’. Exactly how one turned parylized was a mystery, but it looked extremely painful.

Mycroft then made some ultra-dramatic declarations about having guards everywhere (Christianne valiantly resisted banging her head against a nearby tree trunk and resorted instead to wringing and ripping leaves and blades of grass as if they were the Sue), the Sue was shot in the arm, and the cops showed up to arrest Moriarty, accompanied by a mini-Hound called LeStrade. Moriarty made some stupid clichéd dramatic statements at Sherlock, and Lestrade – LeStrade, apparently – had the gall to call the American police force ‘incompetent idiots’.

“Character Replacement,” Eledhwen said immediately as Christianne put the drooling mini-Hound into her pack. “We’re going to have to split up. Mittens, you and Chrissy can charge the Sue. The RMC and I will find the plothole that contains Lestrade.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mittens gave a smart salute. Eledhwen shot him a puzzled look, but followed the RMC into the house. Mittens started fiddling with the Remote Activator.

“What are you doing?” asked Christianne.

“Oh, I’m separating her from the canons.” He pressed the button and with a small yelp of surprise, the Sue fell into the hole. Nobody heard her over the sound of an author’s note declaring that the author now had major writer’s block.

“You mean, you’ve written yourself into a corner,” Mittens remarked dryly. “And that is why we should always outline before writing.” He pressed the buttons to summon another portal, this one vertical, and stepped through with Christianne.


They landed in the forest surrounding Forks. The Crash Dummy Sue was sitting on the ground, looking thoroughly confused. “Are you vampires?” she asked.

“Oh, now you remember that they exist.” Christianne rolled her eyes.

“No,” Mittens growled. “We are something much worse. We are from the PPC and we are here to charge you.”

“Charge me? But it’s Moriarty who’s the criminal.”

“And he’ll get what’s coming to him in series two,” Christianne assured her. “But right now, we want to talk about you.”

“Bella Swan,” Mittens said, “or perhaps Isabella Holmes… you are charged with replacing the real Bella Swan and with having a backstory that’s really stupid, totally inadequate, and made less and less sense as the story went on.”

“Also with being the gratuitous younger sibling of Sherlock and Mycroft,” Christianne chimed in, “and with making up the names of the Holmes’ parents without any reason.”

“Not to mention,” Mittens added, “that in the intro, you made it sound like you were the offspring of Sherlock and Mycroft. You’re also charged with having the Cullens return without explanation and with ignoring Edward and anything else having to do with the Twilight plotline, even though you were in tears over it a moment before.”

“Changing the laws of physics, or perhaps just having all your personal belongings in your bathroom.”

“In fact,” Mittens frowned, “it seems that you don’t even care about Twilight, which is normally not a charge, except when you’re writing a Twilight fanfic. You are also charged with having Emmett call you Belly-Bean, having it take a week to fly from London to Forks, being seriously inconsistent with how much time it takes to drive to the airport and with killing Charlie Swan.”

“Thus giving the already overworked people in Medical even more to do,” Christianne added.

“I didn’t kill Charlie!” Bella Swan/Isabella Holmes cried. “Moriarty did! I’m …” Mittens smacked her with the notebook until she fell quiet.

Christianne continued: “You’re also charged with creating the poor homeless mini-Sparklewolf Stephanie and the mini-Hound LeStrade, with replacing Lestrade with some idiot who brings a plothole full of British police to America, with cheapening the friendship between Sherlock and John, with upstaging John by claiming that you’re the one who keeps Sherlock in line. You’re charged with making Mycroft act all warm and fuzzy, with throwing Moriarty wildly out of character by making him kill someone in person and then get caught in the act, with ripping off the scene at the swimming pool in ‘The Great Game’, and with causing a Ke$ha song to play.”

“Then there are all your crimes against grammar, punctuation and spelling. Too many to mention, so I’ll just point out your extreme cruelty to homonyms and the fact that you capitalized words after commas. What do you think this is, the seventeenth century? It wasn’t even correct back then.”

“And we almost forgot,” Christianne finished, “the most important. You are charged with being an insufferable Mary Sue.”

“I thought the most important was ‘annoying PPC agents’?”

“Well… yes, that too.”

“Any way, for that you are sentenced to die. Any last words?”

“I want my big brother!” the Crash Dummy Sue shouted.

“He’s not your brother – and believe me, as soon as he snaps out of it he would not want you,” Christianne snapped, voice oozing with acid.

“How should we kill her?” Mittens asked. “The Radioactive Moss Creature and I usually go for something canonical.”

Christianne mused over this for a moment. “I suppose we could stuff her in the apartment next to the old lady’s right before everything blows up.”

“She’s a Crash Dummy. DoSAT will have our heads if we destroy the dummy.”

“Point.” Christianne sighed, and nodded at Mittens. “Shoot her.”

Mittens raised an eyebrow, taking out his Five-Seven. “You sure you don’t want to?” Behind them, the Sue continued to blubber and wail. She even tried to escape, but Christianne had her gun aimed at her in an instant.

“I insist,” drawled the assassin, so Mittens did. The Dummy crumpled to the ground as the Sue Spirit screamed in agony, rushing out of the Dummy and exploding in the air right before their faces. As the last bits of Glitter floated down, the Dummy folded itself back into a cube.

Christianne picked up the cube. “Well, that’s that. Let’s get back to the house.”


Meanwhile Eledhwen and the RMC had located the plothole holding the real Bella Swan and Lestrade. It turned out to be in the gravity defying bathroom, where the Sue had tried to keep all her personal belongings. The RMC pocketed the skull; it would make a nice souvenir for Mittens.

“Right,” Eledhwen said, turning to Lestrade, flashing the Neuralyzer. “You have never been to Forks, and even if you had, you would know better than to bring British police with you and order the local force around. This has all been a rather strange dream brought on by too much coffee and doughnuts. Now back to London with you.” She opened a portal and waved him through. Then she handed the Neuralyzer to the RMC, who turned to Bella.

“Bella Swan,” it said. “Edward is still gone and – much as I’m averse to telling you this – you’ll soon jump off a cliff in an attempt to hear his voice in your mind again,” It grimaced. “The things we have to tell the Twilight canons to do,” it muttered.

“Speaking of which,” Eledhwen said, “we still have to find Edward and the rest of the Cullens.”

“She threw them out, so I’m guessing they are somewhere outside the house waiting to be used again.”

It didn’t take them long to locate the Cullens; the sparkling vampires were wandering aimlessly through a different part of the forest. They were near the infamous meadow in which Edward and Bella stared at each other; Edward was now looking tall, sparkly, and broody. Eledhwen had to suppress the bile threatening to rise.

“Cullens! If you can all look here, please,” she instructed, waving the Neuralyzer at them. Another flash. “This has all been a very strange dream. You will not discuss anything about Isabella Swan looking any more different than before. You will all go your separate ways until Alice receives the vision of Bella jumping off a cliff. Rosalie will tell Edward that Bella has committed suicide, and Edward, that’ll be your cue for you to make a fool of yourself in Volterra.”

“Do not bother contacting Bella until then,” added the RMC. “You are canonically obliged to remain oblivious to her suffering, thinking you left her for her own good. Don’t worry; you’ll be back by the third book.”

Eledhwen opened a portal, and the Cullens stepped through. Once the last one – Edward – had disappeared, she opened another one to the front of Charlie’s house, where Christianne and Mittens were dispatching the other Sherlock canons.

“How’s Charlie?” asked Eledhwen, as Moriarty left through the fading blue doorway. Christianne gestured to the corpse on the table next to them.

“Dead,” she pointed out bluntly.

“Very helpful. Let’s get him to Medical.”


“Oh, it’s you two,” Nurse McKay remarked drily to Christianne and Eledhwen as the four agents dragged in Charlie Swan’s corpse. “You couldn’t have stepped in before he got killed?”

“The fact he got killed at all was the breach in canon,” Eledhwen replied cheerily. “How is little Muriel doing?”

“She’s fine,” replied the nurse, scowling over the paperwork for Charlie. “Run along now.”

Once out of Medical, Christianne groaned. “She makes us sound like naughty children.”

“It’s because you are,” Eledhwen replied calmly. The RMC huffed in laughter, and the four of them made their way back to RC #9L0121F4114C3.

Once back at the RC, Christianne opened her pack and took out LeStrade; it bounded over to Mittens and licked his face quite thoroughly. Mittens laughed, ruffling the mini-Hound’s fluorescent green fur.

“So…” he remarked as LeStrade drooled all over his face, “you’ll be taking care of the mini-Hound?”

Christianne rolled her eyes. “He seems to like you. Sure you want me to drop him off at the Modern Baker Street Fanfiction Academy?”

“I…” Mittens trailed off, looking at the RMC nervously. The RMC shrugged as well as it could, being back in its original form. Mittens looked down at LeStrade longingly. “I’ll keep him,” he said after a moment. “That is, if it’s not too much trouble…”

“I’m sure Messrs Ben and Marty have enough minis on their hands,” Eledhwen replied bracingly.

“No, I meant if it’s not too much trouble for my partner. Is it?” Mittens turned to the RMC again, the expression on his face rather reminiscent of the ‘puppy dog eyes’ look.

“Ure,” said the RMC. Mittens beamed, and packed LeStrade into his own pack. “So I spose thi s t, fo now,” the mossy Floater added, shuffling its paws a bit awkwardly.

“It has been a privilege to work alongside you,” Eledhwen replied, putting a hand to her chest in farewell. “If you ever need help with anything Sherlock related …”

“Or other stuff!” Christianne chimed in. “We can do lots of other stuff!”

“Yes, thank you,” Eledhwen muttered, frowning slightly. “As I think my partner was trying to say, if you need our help with anything, do not hesitate to contact us.”

“E won’t,” the RMC said. “Bye fo …”


“Betr get tha,” it finished. “E’ll be off.”

“Not a moment’s peace,” Christianne muttered as she pressed the button and started to read the Intelligence Report. “Not a damn moment’s peace.”

[Lily’s Notes: For the morbidly curious, as always: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7922325/1/The-Strange-Life-Of-Isabella-Holmes

I, er, have no sarcastic comments about this fic that weren’t already said in the Consulting Sue Slayer report of the fic. So yeah.  Obligatory apologies to Emma-Queen of the Nerds.

Elvish, as always, is brought to you all by the fantastic people at Merin Essi Ar Quenteli. This mission has most of the Elvish translated in-text, and ‘Rhiach’ means curses.

For my Agents, this mission should take place before “The Missing Tales of Winnie Breccan”.  Timey-wimey shenanigans for the win!]

[Eileen’s Notes:  (I say, Author’s Notes at the end? What a novel idea!) This has been my first collaborative mission and it was a lot of fun to write. I’ll not go into how horrible this fic was and how glad I was to kill it, but just note that if someone is writing a Twilight fanfic, they should love the canon, or failing that, hate it passionately; being ‘Meh’ about it makes for a very confusing fic. Oh, and the Fictionary was invented by Tungsten Monk and is used with permission.]

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Disclaimer: Narnia belongs to the estate of C. S. Lewis. Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. ‘The Vampire,The Ice Queen and the Wardrobe’ belongs to Jill.x, who can keep it. The PPC belongs to Jay and Acacia; I’m only playing in it. Mittens, the Radioactive Moss Creature, Saxo Cruore and James Vulpes are mine. The quote about the coat is from Bum Reviews and belongs to Doug Walker.

The atmosphere in RC#170 was tenser than usual. Agent Mittens was sitting in front of the TV, playing Okami; his back rigid, as if he was prepared to turn around at any moment. Agents James Vulpes and Saxo Cruore were sitting in their beanbags, each reading a book, very carefully avoiding even glancing at each other. The RMC was playing Okamiden on its hand-held console and would occasionally look up at the three other agents, sigh inwardly, then focus on its game once more. The minis, the Prefect Badger and Aniseed, the Tulip Cat, were all playing a game of ‘let’s see who can be quietest’.

It had been somewhere around three days since their last mission. Of course, it was hard to tell, time being what it was in HQ, but James and Saxo needed to sleep and eat and that made it possible to keep track. When not sleeping and eating, they spend the most of their time getting in each other’s throats and on Mittens’ and the RMC’s nerves.

The RMC had hoped, that getting an appreciation for each other’s canons would help them bond and had therefore made James read the Harry Potter books and Saxo watch the Labyrinth. It hadn’t been a success. James had liked the Harry Potter books very much – although he was occasionally scandalised by how many rules the children in the book broke – but the more he read about the Death Eaters, the more hostile he grew towards Saxo. Saxo, on the other hand, hadn’t liked the Labyrinth at all. He complained that the depictions of various magical creatures were all wrong, the magic made no sense and he was upset that a Muggle girl had been able to defeat someone who was almost a wizard, even if the magic was senseless. He had voiced these opinions loudly in front of James. By now it was an almost constant battle for the RMC and Mittens to keep them from getting into a lethal fight.

Something had to snap and this morning something finally had. Mittens and the RMC had been up all night playing games, enjoying the silence. When the other two awoke, the RMC had been on an errand to the Canon Library and Mittens was still playing, trying to ignore what he knew was coming. And then, just as he had reached his second-favourite cutscene and had started to tear up, because it was so heartbreaking, Saxo had slammed open the door to the bathroom and in a loud voice announced that from now on, James would have to use the bathroom last, because he was sick of the drain clogging with hair. James had bristled and, as usual, had challenged Saxo to a duel. Normally, the RMC would deflate these situations, but it hadn’t been there.

Instead Mittens had turned around and told them, in a very calm voice, exactly what he would do to them if they did not stop their bickering this instant. It had been a very detailed explanation; the word ‘kneecaps’ had been used quite a lot and while some of the things sounded rather outlandish, none of them could be said to be actually impossible. It was the kind of threat that would have made Mittens’ instructor back in Hell give a curt nod of approval.

When the RMC got back, both James and Saxo were sitting very still in their beanbags. Each was holding a book, looking at the pages, but long stretches of time went on between them actually turning a page, suggesting that they were finding it difficult to concentrate. The RMC didn’t ask what had happened.

Ironically, the RMC had been in the Canon Library to get an extra copy of the first three seasons of Merlin. Since learning about each others canons hadn’t really done anything to improve the relationship between the new agents, it had thought, that maybe they could bond over a different canon. Merlin had the rulebound magic that Saxo seemed to crave, and knights and fair maidens, that James loved, so it seemed perfect. But this was a theory which would have to be tested another time.

Just as Mittens reached his very favourite cutscene, the console went BEEEEEEEEEP!! He glared at it, in a way that suggested he could think of creative things to do to electronics as well, but the console ignored his look and went on beeping. He got up, pressed the button to acknowledge the mission and started reading the report. Then he frowned.

“This has got to be a mistake. It’s a crossover between Narnia and Twilight.” He turned. “Any of you know Twilight?” he asked, rather accusingly.

Both James and Saxo quickly shook their heads.

The RMC merely looked thoughtfully. “This would explain why we were sent to get that Fictionary. The Twilight canon is so popular, that there are far more crossovers, threatening other continua, than there are agents actually versed in Twilight, who can take them on.”

Mittens rummaged around until he found the Fictionary on a shelf under a tea cosy and stuffed it in the backpack.

He checked the report again. “It’s in first person. So we’re going to need a Crash Dummy.” He rummaged around some more, looking for the dummy, which he finally found under the fridge, where Aniseed had probably batted it.

The RMC turned to the other two agents who had gotten to their feet, still avoiding looking at each other.

“I’ve heard about first person fics,” Saxo said. “All kinds of things can wrong.”

“As opposed to the fics we usually deal with, you mean?” the RMC asked mildly. “You can write the charge list.” It turned to James. “You’re in charge of the CAD. Remember to always check that it’s muted before you point it at something.”

“What should we go as?” Mittens asked, bending over the console once more. “The first chapter is in England, but it’s very brief and then she goes to Narnia.”

“In that case,” the RMC replied, “we’ll go as fauns. We’ll just keep hidden for the first part.”

“I’m not going as a half-human!” Saxo said. Mittens and the RMC turned to look at him and he looked nervous, but stubborn. “Well, I just wont.”

“Fine,” the RMC said. “No-one is forcing you to go as a half-human. Mittens, make him wholly goat.”

“Um … Eh … On second thought, being a faun sounds great.”

“How nice,” the RMC said dryly.

Mittens, allowing himself a brief smirk, set the disguises, handed everyone their weapons and opened the portal. He pulled the string on the dummy and threw it in, then the agents followed.

I walked into my room, confused about what Professor Cedric had said.

‘Don’t use the wardrobe, it’s dangerous.’

They stood in a generic room. The dummy had, rather anticlimactically, landed on the floor and was just lying there. A girl with her back to them was walking into another room, which, from what they could see of it, was equally generic.

“So she’s not a Sue,” muttered Mittens, picking up the dummy and tying it to the backpack for easy access if they needed it later.

“I would like to know,” the RMC said, while pulling out the Fictionary, “who this Professor Cedric is, since the professor from ‘The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe’ was named Digory Kirke.”

“Has he been replaced with someone from Twilight?” James asked.

“Fictionary says no,” the RMC said after consulting the devise. It looked up. “I’m guessing she either got the name wrong or simply made something up. Either way, we have our first charge.”

Of course that sounded stupid. But he was a very smart man, so I figured out I could better listen to him. A voice somewhere in my head kept repeating the words in my head:

“I would love to know where else the words in her head would be repeated,” Saxo said.

“That’s one for the Department of Redundancy Department,” Mittens agreed. “Write the charge.”

Don’t use the wardrobe.. Don’t use the wardrobe.. Don’t use the wardrobe..

Both stating that the words were being repeated and actually repeating made the phrase echo. Apparently, generic walls did nothing good for the acoustics.

It was pretty scary. I came into my room and the first thing I saw was the amazing wardrobe . It was made of old, brown wood. I let my fingers slide over it, was careful that I didn’t touch something I shouldn’t touch. I’m Isabella Swan, Bella for short. I’m 15 years old and was send to my fathers friend Professor Cedric, because my parent’s couldn’t take care of me. My attention always got back to the wardrobe.

“No!” James broke in. “The wardrobe was in a completely empty room, not in anyone’s bedroom.”

“Not to mention,” the RMC said, “that the professor never warned the children about the wardrobe.”

“And,” James added, “why have the wardrobe in her room, if it is dangerous? The house is enormous; he could easily hide it somewhere and lock the door.”

“So we’re what?” Saxo asked, frowning. “In the first paragraph of the story? And already there’s a complete breakdown of canon and logic.”

“Not to mention an awful attempt at back story,” the RMC said. “Why couldn’t her parents take care of her? How does she feel about being sent here? How long has she been here? Is she American or English, because if it’s the first, I’m dying to learn why her parents thought a war-torn country was the best place for her and if it’s the latter, I really want to know why she didn’t just come here because of the War like everyone else.”

“Well, apparently she has multiple fathers,” Mittens said, pointing at the sentence in the Words. “I’m all for that, but if this takes place during the War, it must have been quite unusual.”

“Charge for ignoring canon,” the RMC said, “ignoring common sense and having a back story with more holes than your average Swiss cheese.”

“And now she’s going through the wardrobe,” James said.

When Saxo had written down the charges, Mittens opened a portal to Narnia and the RMC walked through. The other three tried to follow, but only managed to stagger and stumble. It turned out that goat legs and small cloven hooves were quite difficult to manage, when you weren’t used to them. Saxo had to grab a chair to keep himself upright. James had no such luck; he fell flat on his face and had to be helped up by Mittens. Finally, they all made it through the portal, where the RMC was waiting.

They hid behind a bush and watched Bella push her way through a cluster of trees.

Then I saw something moving in the woods. I got scared immediately, I couldn’t die!

It was moving very fast and it came closer and closer. I thought about running away, but since it moved so fast, I decided that I better could stay and welcomed the dead in my arms.

The RMC lifted a hand and pinched the bridge of its nose. “So. Much. Wrong,” it said, in a pained voice. Mittens started to look in the backpack for Bleeprin.

“Her reaction makes no sense,” James said. “She gets scared, but rather than running away or trying to find her way back to the house, she just decides that it is not worth the bother, gives up and waits for certain death.”

“Not death,” Mittens said, stopping his search for a moment to point, “’the dead’, see? Clearly she thinks it’s a zombie running towards her.”

“Zombies can’t run,” Saxo said.

Mittens pulled out the bottle with a triumphant smile, then shrugged. “Must be one of those modern zombies. But yes, James, we have a charge for having an nonsensical reaction to danger. Also, for serious crimes against the English language.”

Don’t use the wardrobe.. Don’t use the wardrobe..

I used it as some kind of mantra , I kept saying it all over again..

“And we’re back at the redundancy,” Mittens said, handing out pills.

“She seems to have all the time in the world to think and speak,” Saxo said, “why doesn’t she try to do something useful?”

“Typical bad storytelling,” the RMC said with a shrug. “She wants a scene where she doesn’t have time to run away and where she is chanting the phrase, but she doesn’t realize that having that much time makes the first part ridiculous. Many badfics have moments like this, where a character try to both have the cake and eat it. It’s a charge for bad writing.”

‘Hello.’ I screamed.

I was too scared to turn and face the beautiful face, so I just kept sobbing.

Everything slowed down as the Word World tried to decide how to interpret this. Finally, with a small ‘plop’, Bella grew eyes in the back of her head so she could look at a beautiful face floating right behind her, without having to turn around.

For a second all four agents stood frozen, then they all turned away. Saxo was looking slightly green and had his hand over his mouth.

“This,” the RMC said, “calls for more Bleeprin.”

The floating face turned into Edward from Twilight who started talking to Bella.

‘Listen up, girl. I’ll tell you my story when we’re at my home; MOVE!’ he took my hand and lead me to his house. It was freezing cold and I couldn’t feel my entire body. He lead me into a little, stone house somewhere in the mountains. He gave me one of his shirts, so I could warm up.

“I forgot to bring a coat to the mountains once. No wait, I didn’t. Because even I know to bring a coat to the mountains and I’m a bum!” Mittens quoted. Saxo and James eyed him wearily, but the RMC sniggered,

“Charge for squatting in Mr. Tumnus’ house. We’ll portal after them so we don’t have to wade through the snow,” it said.

They portalled to right outside the small house and peeked through the windows. Edward was giving Bella his back story.

‘Well, I’m Edward Masen and I’m 17 years old. I came here with my brother and sister , a long time ago, when we were playing in the wardrobe of the our father..’

Mittens tilted his head. “Unless he’s claiming to be the non-canonical son on of the professor, the wardrobe has never been his father’s.”

A few years since we came here, my brother Emmett fell in love with the Ice Queen, me and Alice ,my sister, were mad at him, so we tried to talk to him. The Ice Queen, Rosalie, Didn’t like that, so she doomed us. And we’re frozen in our 17 years old body forever. We’re just like other creatures, we mean nothing to her. They call us here vampires, although we don’t drink blood. It’s weird, I know. And for your information, you’re in Narnia.

The RMC scratched its head as it checked the Fictionary. “This is all wrong. Emmett and Alice are his adopted siblings, but if he has been adopted by now, why didn’t he introduce himself as Cullen? And Rosalie is not the Ice Queen – and do charge for calling her that, rather than the White Witch – or even a native of Narnia; she’s his adopted sister as well. This isn’t following Twilight canon either, it’s just using random bits and pieces and replacing the rest. Charge for messing up both canons.”

“And what did commas ever do to this fic?” Mittens wondered aloud. “Charge for that.”
“I think there’s a new chapter,” James said and pointed at the Words coming up. “And an author’s note.”

They all covered their ears.

Hi Everybody ! Here’s chapter two in Edward’s POV. Thanks for reading my story, it means a lot to me. Anyways, I DON’T OWN TWILIGHT OR THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA !

Thanks xx


Edward: ‘Now tell me your story..’

“A disclaimer,” Saxo said, when it was safe to remove their hands. “Better late than never I suppose.”

‘I..I’m Isabella Swan. Swan, I mean, Bella for short. I’m from England and I’m 15. I was at the home from Professor Cedric, when I saw the wardrobe he had been talking about. I was curious and took a look. And now I’m here. I was send to the Prof because my parents couldn’t take care of me. I don’t know where I belong, I’ve never been someone who fitted somewhere. I don’t know why I’m here, Cedric told me I shouldn’t use the wardrobe! But I was curious and..and..and yes. I hope I’m now where I belong. Although it looks a bit weird here. And Narnia, I’ve never heard about that before.. Is it some kind of magical land?’

The agents just stared for a moment.

Then the RMC said briskly: “Right. Charges. We already have a charge for redundancy, which would make it redundant to charge for repeating her back story. Charge for having a extremely underwhelmed reaction to being in another world and for talking about her feelings with a complete stranger. Also charge for having vampires who don’t even drink blood, when that is their single most important defining characteristic. Even Twilight didn’t completely take that away from them.”

In the fic, Edward was now elaborating on his backstory.

‘It was a cold night in Villa Phoenix, in the middle of a valley in England. Alice, Emmett and me were playing in my dad’s work office. He told us not to use the wardrobe, but we were curious. So we got in the wardrobe and entered the Unknow Land.

“Where all Sues hail from,” Saxo said.

We had to hide us, and had to fight everyday for our lives.

“I imagine them taking turns to hide each other in small jars on the top shelves,” Mittens said.

One day, Emmett met the Ice Queen , Rosalie. At first she looked kind, and Emmett fell in love with her. They married soon after that. Rosalie was angry with me and Alice because we didn’t like their marriage. She turned us into vampires.

“Proving them right, then,” James said.

Since that day, the beautiful land of Aslan, king and protector of Narnia (may he live forever) ,

“Presumably he is immortal, so I doubt he needs your good wishes,” the RMC said, crossing its arms over its chest. It was cold up here, fauns apparently did not use sweaters and it hoped that this scene wouldn’t take much longer.

“Hey, we should do an MST some time,” Mittens said. “This is starting to sound like one.”

That day, the Ice Queen promised that she’ll turn every human who comes here into a tree.

“Since Bella is human,” Saxo said, “she should just make like a tree and leave.”

The three other agents groaned.

“Well, I suppose there’s no MSTs without really bad jokes,” the RMC said.

Everyone lived happy together. The Animals could talk and the dwarfs walked in the woods, singing every song they knew.

“Somehow, I just don’t see the Narnian dwarves doing the whole Snow White ‘Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho’ thing,” Mittens said.

The fauns had a campfire every Tuesday night.

This was followed by complete silence on the agents’ part, since this was simply too random for them to think of anything to say.

We had 2 kings and two queens, the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eva. They were called Peter, Edmund, Susan and Lucy. They died a few years ago. Than the Ice Queen saw her chance and attacked Narnia again. Since then, we all are doomed to have a sad life.

“They died, did they? Can’t even get that detail right,” the RMC muttered.

“’Doomed to have a sad life’,” Saxo repeated, through chattering teeth. “The PPC should use that phrase in their next recruitment campaign.” He and James were also starting to look like they were freezing badly, but they were eyeing each other and both of them refused to rub their chests or in any other way acknowledge the cold.

But Aslan told us the day that Queen Rosalie turned the world into ice, that there would come a young girl, who would become the wife of a Doomed Person.

“That means I get to sing the Doom Song,” Mitten said enthusiastically. “Doom doom doom doomy doom doom!”

I was absolutely sure that she was the girl. I felt some weird connection with here, so I think I’m the doomed person , like Aslan called him.

“That’s a rather circular logic,” James said. “It would seem that he thinks he is the doomed person because he feels something for her, but that is also the only reason why he thinks she is the girl.”

“You’re right,” Mittens said. “Charge for circular logic.”

‘Listen Bella, I know you are the girl. And I know that I’m the doomed person. I know it sounds weird, but we have to marry soon. Only together we will be strong enough to lead a war and to save Narnia.’

“He got awfully sure in a very short time,” Saxo commented.

“I have to admit, as pick-up-lines go, that one is rather novel,” the RMC said.

‘I’m almost positive that Aslan’ll turn you into a Mythical Creature, so that you’ll be strong enough.

“Mittens,” the RMC said, its eye twitching, “could we have some more Bleeprin, please?”

In the fic, Bella suddenly grew wings.

She had wings growing on her back, and became more beautiful than everything I’ve ever seen. She was an elf, just like my sister. But you could see she was very powerful. The fire in her eyes was like nothing I had ever seen before.

‘What the heck?’

‘You’re an elf. Told you Aslan would change you into something else. Now all we have to do is marrying, and I’m sorry about that. I know it sounds weird, because you don’t even know me.’ I told her shy.

“I think,” Mittens said slowly, “we are long overdue for a reading.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” James said and fumbled with the CAD. He pointed it at Bella.

[Bella Swan. Canon/uncanon/canon/Sue/Canon/Uncanon/Sue]

The others looked over his shoulder to see the read-out.

“I think,” the RMC said, “she might be the real Bella Swan. The CAD is not designed to get readings on Canon Sues and furthermore she is a stranger to this continuum.” It checked the Fictionary. “Of course, suddenly finding herself in the middle of a supernatural war and being turned into a sparkly creature is very much in character for her. There’s just rather more glitter and bad storytelling heaped on top of her.”

James nodded, although he did not look entirely convinced and pointed the CAD at Edward. There was a very loud and very shrill BEEEEEEEEEP!! Mittens yanked it out of his hands and turned it off.

“You have to check that it’s muted,” he said, as he gave it back to James.

“I did!” James objected.

“You have to check every time,” Mittens said. “This means, between uses as well.”

James growled at Saxo, who was grinning widely, then looked at the display.

[Edward Masen/Cullen/Masen. ??? Canon/uncanon/canon/Stu/Canon/Uncanon/Stu. Twilight? Ohgodnottwilight!]

“It’s the same,” he said. “Does that mean that he is the real Edward as well?”

“It would seem so,” the RMC said. “But we’ll have to bring them to the Twilight continuum and get a new reading on them there, to be absolutely sure.”

We were training hard, but still not hard enough. My sister helped us with finding other creatures, but all we had by now were 12 werewolves, 13 vampires, 25 dwarfs, 3 elves (including Bella and Alice) , 5 ice bears and 2 wildcats.

“I thought he said that both he and Alice were vampires,” James said. “And who are the other vampires?”

“Don’t know, but we’ll have to think of what to do with them,” the RMC said. “There are no vampires in Narnia. Nor Elves for that matter not that, that ever stopped a fanficcer who wanted to include them. Charge for that and for leaving out most of the mythological creatures who actually did fight on Aslan’s side the last time, such as dragons and unicorns.”

“Hey,” James said, “is that an autho…”

Thank you for reading!

I don’t know yet how I will describe the fight. If you have suggestions, let me know it!

And I’m sorry for my horrible grammar!

Xxx Jill


Here’s the next chapter!

Don’t forget to review

The songs for this chapter are:

-A Change in me, Beauty and the beast

-The battle (instrumental), The chronicles of Narnia

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Twilight or The Chronicles Of Narnia.


“Charge for apologizing for her horrible grammar, rather than actually doing something about it,” the RMC said.


‘Dwarf 223! Get your little ass over here!’ I screamed. It was Monday, 25th of Jinfire(AN: That’s one of the months of Narnia, it’s the same as June)

The dummy flew through the air and Mittens, who was wearing the backpack, was yanked sideways. Then the string holding the dummy broke and it stood on the floor and started yelling after a dwarf.
“I think we have our Sue,” James said.
“No kidding, Sherlock,” Mittens said. He shot a nervous look downwards. The complete and utter lack of setting meant that they were all standing on a floor so generic and undefined, that it was rather foggy and not nearly solid enough to support them. They were slowly sinking into it and Mittens doubted that there was anything underneath.
“Charge for making up the names of months in Narnia,” the RMC said. “Then make an additional charge for keeping the names of the days of the week. And Mittens, some more Bleeprin if you would be so kind.”

In the fic, the dwarf gave a brief recap of what they had already seen.

I was shocked.

‘So the girl finally arrived?’

‘Yes Mrs Rosalie, she did.’

Saxo groaned. “I have no words for how stupid this is.”

“This is how she chooses to replace the White Witch?” the RMC said. “A screaming … harpy, with a foul mouth and nothing resembling dignity or cleverness? Charge for it!”

‘What was the Vampire’s name?’ I wondered who it was, there weren’t too many outta here..

‘I think it was Edward Masen, Mrs Rosalie.’ I screamed. Emmett’s brother. I couldn’t kill him, Emmett won’t be happy about that. Did I have another choice?


Let’s go kill some Vampires, and their stupid little friends.

The RMC frowned and checked the Fictionary once again. “This seems off, and not just because she apparently asked a question and then screamed the answer herself. According to this, Rosalie is extremely self-centered, but loyal to family and friends. She shouldn’t be so quick to kill Emmett’s brother. Nor to have turned them into vampires to begin with. James, would you get a reading on her?”

James pointed the CAD at the Ice Queen and pressed the button. For a few moments nothing happened. Then the CAD started vibrating.

“I think you should drop it,” Mittens began, but then there was a small ‘bing’ and the screen lit up with a reading.

[Mrs Rosalie aka. The Ice Queen. Species undetermined. Uncanon. Sue. Kill it! Killitwithfire!]

“And here I was, almost thinking that we wouldn’t get to kill anything,” Saxo said with a gleeful smirk.

“Charge for being a Sue and for bashing Rosalie as well as the White Witch,” the RMC said.


It was a long night on Gindra (same as July here) the 25th.

The RMC glared at her. “I wish she would stop making up names of months,” it said, annoyed.
Mittens just sighed in relief. The words mentioned Bella sitting on a rock, which had been enough to conjure up a mountainside as a setting.

Ever since I was young , I wrote music. I had an amazing voice, they always told me. I decided to write a song (A/N: Now listen to A change in me- Beauty and the Beast)

There’s been a change in me
A kind of moving on
Though what I used to be
I still depend on

As the whole song played out, Mittens banged his head against a rock. When the singing stopped, he swallowed a handful of Bleeprin and said: “Charge for using a whole copyrighted song. I believe that it is against the rules of the Pit, but it’s also plain annoying.”

“Also charge for Sue-singing,” the RMC said, consulting the Fictionary. “There’s nothing about Bella Swan having an amazing voice or writing music.”

There was a minor shift in time and space, even though there was no reason to.

(In the evening, on the campfire)

Bella and Edward were now sitting in the middle of the fire. Their clothes were burning away, but neither seemed to notice.
The agents stared at them, dumbstruck, for a moment, before the RMC found its voice. “Charge for this. And Mittens, another round of Bleeprin, if you please.”

It was to give Narnia his original proud and beauty back, to give all of the habitants a perfect, long and happy life. I knew it was going to be hard, but I was sure that we could do it. After all , how strong could that little Ice Queen be?

Mittens shuddered. “I have a hard time believing that anyone, who could think like that, is a canon character.”

“Well, she is Suefied,” the RMC said, “but she’s also a Sue to begin with. This is her good and caring traits being warped to the extreme.”

And I promise that if we win the fight, we will go and rebuild Cair Paraval, and have the most perfect life you want.

Mittens pointed eagerly. “Oh! Mini! Mini-something! Mini-Dragon?”

“A mini-Dragon, yes,” the RMC said. “It must be Paraval.”

Mittens picked the mini up and placed it in the backpack.

Edward and Bella kissed and then Aslan showed up.

‘That’s great news. And kids, the energy you both felt trough your body, was the energy of love. It’s the most powerful thing.

“I think I know what this is,” the RMC said, “but get a reading just to be sure.”

James checked that the CAD was muted, then pointed it at the great lion.

[Tashlan. Character replacement. Terminate with extreme prejudice.]

The RMC grimaced at this. “Being right is much less fun than it ought to be.”

‘You.. You brought soldiers for us?’ I asked.

‘Indeed, Bella. I brought 25 wildcats, 12 ice bears, 45 dwarfs, 123 centaurs , 256 elves, 56 fauns, 5 giants and a lot of horses. I’ve trained them ,too.

“What are we supposed to do with 256 non-canonical Elves?” Saxo asked.

“Winged Elves,” the RMC corrected, rubbing its forehead. “Which means that we can’t just send them to Generic Fantasy Land or WOW or any other place I can think of. We’ll have to deal with them later. Anyway, I’ve checked the Words and Tashlan doesn’t show up again, so we’ll take care of him now. Mittens, any ideas as to how we kill him?”

“I have one,” Mittens said. “I’ll use the Remote Activator.”

“Very well,” the RMC said. “Saxo, do you know which charges are for Tashlan?”

“Yes. There’s only a few, since we pin the rest on Rosalie.”

“Exactly. I think you should read the charges.”

Saxo smirked. “Watch and learn, Fox,” he said and strode towards the great lion.

“Tashlan, as agents of the PPC …” The huge lion roared and jumped him. He just had time to throw himself flat on the ground.

“Is this something I should learn?” James yelled in a innocent tone. “Should I be taking notes? Will there be a test?”

“Stop kidding around,” Mittens said, his finger poised over the button on the RA, “and just read the charges.”

Saxo was getting up and didn’t seem to be paying attention. His gaze was fixed on the lion and he drew his sword. The lion growled and started to circle him, looking for an opening. Saxo ventured a glance in the notebook, he still held in his left hand, and said: “You are charged with being a character replacement, with turning Bella into an Elf and with bringing 256 non-canonical Elves into this fic.” The lion roared and positioned itself to jump once more. “For this, you are sentenced to die!” Saxo yelled.

The lion jumped at him, but Mittens pressed the button on the RA and the roar turned into something like a bellow of surprise as it soared through a portal. “I believe that was my cue,” Mittens said.

“Weren’t the timing all off with that joke?” Saxo asked, sheathing his sword.

Mittens shrugged. “If you prefer, next time I can snark first and get rid of the lion afterwards.”

“Let’s go check that it doesn’t get away,” the RMC said.
On the other side of the portal, a battle between two white lions were raging. But while the lions were the same size and build, this was in no way an even fight. In fact, if Mittens should compare it to anything, he would say it was like watching a Smurf being thrown before a tiger.

With a last howl which was cut short, one of the lions feel to the ground, dead. The other turned to the agents.

“The Protectors,” it said, its voice deep and powerful, but with an undertone of mirth.

Mittens looked down at his feet, or in this case, hooves. “I … I hope you’re not angry I dumped that other lion on you,” he said. “It was kind of going to eat Saxo and …” He scraped the ground with his hooves.

“I am always pleased to meet your kind, even if the reasons for your visits are regrettable,” Aslan replied. “And I do not mind helping you with the challenges you cannot face on your own.” The mirth became even more pronounced. “Now, you should take care of the so-called Ice Queen. Whatever the differences between me and the White Witch, I do not like to see her impersonated by something like that.”

Mittens looked relived. “Will do, “ he said and started fiddling with the RA again. The agents all bowed before Aslan and went though the portal, which deposited them back where they had left the story.

“Author’s note coming up,” James warned and they covered their ears.

So, that was chapter three! It’s way better if you listen to the songs 😀

I want at least 3 reviews before I update again, they make me happy!

Click the green button !



“Is holding your own story hostage for reviews a char…” Saxo began, but was interrupted by another author’s note in the beginning of the next chapter.

4. Authors NoteI’m Sorry

Hey Guys!

I’m so sorry I didn’t update for what seems a thousand years!

And I have to disappoint you , I’m not going to update for the next 2 or 3 weeks..

That’s because my exams are starting next week, and so I’m really busy with studying..

I hate it.

And than again, I’m so so so so sooooooooooooo sorry !

I promise that my next chapter is going to be the best.. I hope.

Sorry Again.


“She had a whole chapter consisting of an author’s note, explaining why she hadn’t updated?” James began. “How is that even …”

But suddenly there was another chapter and yet another author’s note bellowed over them.

5. An TwilightNight

First off all, guys, I’m so sorry to tell you this, but I’m a little done with this story. I will continue this, and I already know how. You will get to choose between a good ending and a sad ending. I’m writing another story now, Alice In Wonderland. Read it ,please. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to update this story for a while. Please forgive me!


6: The Plan

Here’s the new chapter,

But I need more reviews to motivate me, because I’m kinda tired of this story..

So Review please , it would make me happy.


“I think there’s a real chapter now,” Mittens said, carefully lowering his hands and looking at Edward who was giving orders to the army.

“Unbelievable,” the RMC said. “The stupid fic has two chapters consisting of nothing but author’s notes, begging for reviews and bad excuses. And she is going after Alice in Wonderland next.” It nodded its thanks as it took the Bleeprin Mittens handed it. “Charge for the last two chapters.” It got a distant look as it scanned the text ahead of them. “This is the last chapter. We just need to find a good moment and then I think we can wrap this up.”

“How do with kill her?” Mittens asked.

“I say we follow the CAD’s suggestion and use fire,” the RMC said.

“That was an actual suggestion? I thought it was just a figure of speech.”

“Speaking of speech, Edward is giving one,” Saxo said.

But if we’re in the fight, you are going to fight not for yourself, but for Narnia. Choose someone of your own length, and don’t think we’re better than them, because we’re not. Knowing Queen Rosalie, she has made the best army. Don’t forget that we do this for your wives or husbands. If we win this fight, we’re going to be happy and die happy when we’re old and gray. If we loose, than there’s a big chance that we all are going to be a slave of Queen Rosalie. Do we want that?’ Edward asked.

‘No! We Don’t want to be slaves of stupid Queen Rosalie!’ They all screamed.

“Yeah, that’s right up the with ‘There may come a day, where the courage of man fails’,” the RMC said acidly.

“Is there a volcano or something in Narnia we can dump her in?” Mittens asked. “Otherwise I’m not sure how we are going to get fire enough to …” He was interrupted by the sound of something scratching on the inside of his backpack. Mittens opened it and Paraval peeked out, the blew a rather impressive flame, almost as long as the small dragon itself.

“It wants to help,” James said. “Good mini-Dragon.”

Mittens hesitated for a moment, but the RMC nodded its approval, so he started giving Paraval instructions, at least half of which were some variation of ‘be careful and don’t get hurt’. He then placed the mini-Dragon on his shoulder.

In the fic Rosalie showed up with her army and Emmett. Edward told Emmett that Rosalie didn’t love him and had only married him to get revenge on Edward and Alice. For some reason Emmett believed him at once and started yelling at Rosalie, calling her the worst names in the book. Rosalie tried to persuade Emmett back, but then Alice and Bella changed.

I growled and felt Bella and Alice changing next to me. Suddenly, they were in the air with their big, beautiful wings spread out wide. Bella’s wings were a passionate red colour with some blue accents, while Alice’s were red and pink accents. They both looked beautiful.

“Okay,” the RMC said. “Text says he is distracted by this. Everyone else probably is as well. I say we take care of Rosalie now.”

Mittens nodded briefly, while pressing buttons on the RA. A portal opened underneath Rosalie and she fell through. The agents quickly jumped in after her.

The Ice Queen was getting up from the ground, looking furious. “Who are you?” she demanded. “Are you some more of the stupid little friends of the vampires?”

“No,” Mittens said. “We are something much worse. Saxo, charge list please.”

Eyeing the Ice Queen wearily, Saxo opened the notebook and started reading. The Ice Queen however, made no move to attack, but simply glared at him, perhaps waiting for some sort of explanation.

“Rosalie aka. the Ice Queen, with the power vested in us as PPC-agents, we charge you with the following crimes: Getting the name of the Professor utterly wrong; multiple cases of redundancy; ignoring and messing with the canons of both Twilight and Narnia; ignoring common sense; giving Bella a stupid back story, multiple fathers and a nonsensical reaction to danger; severe cruelty towards the English language, especially the common comma; having no sense of timing; making Edward squat in Mr. Tumnus’ home; calling yourself the Ice Queen; making Bella be underwhelmed at being in Narnia and talk about her feelings with a complete stranger; having vampires who don’t drink blood; making Edward employ circular logic; having Elves and vampires in Narnia, while at the same time ignoring most of the other interesting creatures who should have been there; apologising for your horrible grammar rather than fixing it; inventing new names of months, but keeping the names of the days; copying a whole song; placing two characters in the middle of a fire; having two chapters consisting of author’s notes and excuses; calling yourself the Ice Queen; being an extremely poor replacement for Jadis, bashing Rosalie and being a Mary Sue. Your punishment is death.”

“What nonsense is this?” Rosalie demanded. Then she screamed. Mittens had sneaked up behind her and planted his knives in her back.

“Now!” he yelled and as Rosalie whirled around to face him, Paraval swooped in and breathed flames right in her face. She stood for a moment, then she collapsed in a burning heap.

“Swooping is not always bad,” the RMC commented sagely, as Paraval flew back and landed on the arm of Mittens, who called him a good mini-Dragon and made promises about rather large amounts of bacon.

“How come she was so easy to charge?” Saxo asked. “Tashlan attacked me, but she just stood there.”

“Tashlan is in the rare position of being a canon character-replacement,” the RMC replied. “As such he has faced PPC-agents before and know what we are. Anyway, we should get the neuralyzing over with and clean up the mess left behind.”

However, when they returned to the battlefield, most of the armies were missing. It seemed that all the non-canonical beings had simply gone, now that there was nothing keeping them in the story. The RMC took out the Neuralyzer.

“Look here, please,” it said and everyone turned towards it. The agents closed their eyes as it pressed the button. “Okay, everyone who is not a vampire or an Elf, you don’t know what either of those things are. The White Witch was defeated years ago and this is not a permanent winter, but an perfectly ordinary one. You’ve all had a rather confusing daydream and now you will all go home and forget about it.”

Mittens opened a portal back to the Twilight canon and they went through it, dragging the confused-looking Bella, Edward, Alice and Emmett with them. James got new readings on them, which confirmed them as the real characters.

“Right,” the RMC said. “Bella, you have never met Edward and won’t for some years to come. You have never been turned into an Elf,” it looked with mild distaste at the sparkly wings on her back, “or a fairy.” The wings faded away. “Also, you have never lived in England because your parents couldn’t take care of you and you do not have multiple fathers. You live in Phoenix, Arizona. Now walk through here, please.” It gestured towards the portal and Bella walked through.

After modifying the memories of the rest of the characters and sending them on their ways, they could finally go back to RC#170.

Saxo lowered himself into one of the beanbags. “That was awful,” he groaned. James did the same and nodded in agreement. Then they both lifted their heads and looked at each other for a moment.

Neither Mittens nor the RMC dared to breath, fearful of interrupting. Then Saxo got up and James abruptly turned his back to him.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Saxo said. “I feel dirty.” He went to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. A moment later he opened the door. “The drain is still completely clogged with hair. There’s water all over the floor!”

James growled an insult in return and drew his baton.

Mittens and the RMC sighed. Paraval watched in mild puzzlement from his new place on top of the bookshelf, where he was happily tearing into a large piece of bacon.

The there was a loud ‘BEEEEEEEEPPPPP!!’

Mittens got up. “Seems everyone will have to wait with the showers.”

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