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Absolutely. Fanfic can't replace any relationship, and is only really wish-fulfillment. But even though I understand that, I still wonder what would happen if I went to Narnia and got Caspian to fall in love with me or something.

But then I'd be a Mary Sue, stealing him away from Ramandu's daughter and Susan. And I'd have to PPC myself.

Ok...may I adopt the mini-Dragon?

When I looked over my old fanfiction, I discovered Ewoyn, with an accented E. Also, I discovered Bilibo and Frogo.

And as for mini-Aragogs, I spotted Mc Gongall.

I do hope no one else from C&S frequents this Board. Especially Maikke-Fluffy.
But Sed, you asked for it...
To anyone else: This writing sample is Alternate Universe. It is a Narnia Fanfic where the Pevensies stay and Susan marries Caspian. After their wedding dance, Susan decides that Caspian needs to have a dance lesson.

A Lesson in Painless Waltzing
“Come on, Caspian!”
“My dear, I do not wish to—“
“You are going to, and I will not be dissuaded. Do you know how crushed my toes felt after that dance?”
The rest of the Pevensie siblings and Trumpkin looked on amusedly as Susan Pevensie literally dragged her newly-wedded husband into the ballroom. Said king was struggling all the while with a childish pout on his face.
“I do not see the reason in this, my Queen,” the King of the Telmarines and Narnians grumbled as Susan proceeded to plant him firmly in a seat.
The Gentle Queen scowled at him in a most ungentle way. “Your problem is that while you know the steps, you don’t know how to do the dance with a partner without giving them toe injuries. We’re changing that today.” She turned to Peter. “All right; come over here. We’re going to teach Caspian dear how to do a proper waltz without stepping on people’s toes.”
The High King of Narnia smirked a little, still finding the situation funny beyond reckoning. He approached her and placed one hand on her waist. Susan put one hand flat against her brother’s shoulder before taking his other hand. Finally, she gave the minstrel who was also in the room a signal to start playing.
A little waltz started. Susan and Peter danced slowly, while Susan chanted “One-two-three, one-two-three…see, his feet aren’t pulverizing mine…one-two-three...”
Pretty soon it was Caspian who was dancing with her, and doing a terrible job at it. The word ‘ow’ was slowly becoming an overused interjection for Susan.
“You know, Su, you can always let Caspian lead,” commented Edmund as Susan took a seat, bending down to massage her aching toes. Caspian sat next to her with a ‘see-I-told-you-so’ look on his face.
His older sister glowered at him. “Pray tell, Ed, will there be a difference?”
Their Dear Little Friend Trumpkin tilted his head a little and said shrewdly, “If you let him lead, your Majesty, at least you will be able to avoid his feet. You are already able to feel him moving forward with the hand on his shoulder there, so it is a simple matter to move with him.”
Susan shrugged. “It can’t hurt to try, DLF.” Sooner or later she and Caspian were in the dance position again, ready to waltz.
As they began to move, Susan fought the urge to lead him and instead opted to follow his footing. Trying her hardest not to look down, she closed her eyes and braced herself for a bout of pain that would certainly occur if he stepped on her feet again…
…It never came. Her eyes slowly opened again at the end of the dance to see her husband grinning smugly at her. “Looks like Trumpkin was right,” he murmured in her ear.
Susan laughed, admitting defeat. But her laughter died out as she noticed that his face was dangerously close to hers. She closed her eyes again as she closed the distance between their lips.
“So I guess the lesson is over, aye?” muttered Edmund. Peter merely grimaced. No matter how happy he had felt when Aslan noted the feelings Caspian and Susan felt for one another and therefore allowed them to stay, he still felt his big brother protectiveness struggling to kick in whenever Caspian and Susan showed public displays of affection.
Peter tried to grin and bear it, mentally beating back the protectiveness with Rhindon. “It would seem that way, yes,” he replied. They’re happy and love each other very much. There’s no need to step in, he reminded himself.
Lucy smiled. “Well, now that Caspian can do a waltz without stepping on toes, I think we need to teach him the minuet without crippling people for life as well.”
Caspian, who heard Lucy, groaned.

The worst of the damage.

*Agent Isaiah calmly takes up a whetstone*

mini-Aragogs:
Blaise Zarbini, Hanna Abbot, Justin Flintch -Fletchy

mini-Dragon:
Lucy Pevenzi

mini-Movie:
Nummy Muffin Cocoa Butter

mini-Reapers:
Darvos, The Doctro, J-9, Lela, The Meddling Mon

Actually, she's probably skinny enough that if she pulled a hat over her face or something it may not be immediately obvious that she didn't actually genderbend.

Anthony and Sweeney Todd?

I agree with the random beggar idea. After all, it's canon that Sweeney doesn't pay much attention to beggars, so as long as they don't seem like a threat to his plots ... or an annoyance ... or random people he could get away with killing ...

Well, he's OOC anyway, so your agents shouldn't be in too much danger, right?

Tee-hee...

Perhaps a gender-ambiguous street urchin?

Email me a portion of the story (~half page or so) and I will read it over and give you the official OK stamp. One thing that I am not getting from your letters is formating. I know that they are letters, but still dosn't give me a full perspective of what you can do.

That being said, you should have your OK, as soon as I read the sample.

my address: letohaven @ hotmail.com

Leto

I have a horse owned by another character. It's called Methusel (no description yet). I keep thinking that it sounds familiar, like I've pulled a Paolini and transposed letters or added/deleted some. I've already ruled out Methredel from Oblivion (Thieves' Guild person), but there's still a nagging doubt in my head.

Not meaning to be pushy, but I don't see why not. You wrote it, and the PG isn't going to be influencing the contest...

*shrugs* It's up to you. Just doens't make sense to me, that's all.

I don't think it would be wise to post it just yet...

It would be shorter, and a different style, to get a more rounded view...

Savaged by a baby rabbit. Oh, Monty Python flashbacks... only this is funnier.

...Arabian handmaidens. Oookay.

Mind you, it's probably due to the black being dominant...

My eyes hurt, too. And that's just because I'm looking at your link thingy.
The color for used links really does look like a diluted form of wilver. And the semi-urple is making me see things now.

Feel free to take the rip out of Ai Koi-hime's name. She thinks it means 'Princess Love Love' (or 'Love Love Princess', she changes her mind frequently).

There's also a lighter shade that could qualify as urple

My eyes hurt now.

Though I've never read Austen, I'll go tell some fellow PPC fan buddies and we'll get some Sharp Pointy Things (tm).

Urple and wilver (or as close to it as I can get on Firefox), on a black background. The effect is rather horrifying.

Isn't FireFox wonderful?

From my previous post...

(forgive any spelling errors), who is the Speaker of the House. On the other hand, Dick Cheney is the President of the Senate. In the House wing we also saw the spot where John Quincy Adams died while serving as a representative. He died during a House meeting, and the cause was a cardiac arrest. Did you know that he slept through some, if not many of those meetings? I once slept during class in sixth grade when we were studying the ancient Greeks. Thank God the teacher wasn’t lecturing at the time.
When we left the building, problems arose. Tony and Ashley had, by the looks of it, fast metabolisms, and therefore were hungry. Sarah accused Frank of wanting to starve us. He wanted to get us to Union Station for lunch, and when Sarah told him that it would probably be too far, he lost his temper. They had a little screaming match, and then Frank leaves us to go back to the hotel. Bad move—Sarah then assumed that he was deserting us and hammered another nail into his coffin. We ended up spending the afternoon without him. So our little troop headed back to the art museum to see if they had a restaurant. They did, but it was closed. We then browsed around in the gift shop and there I bought a little black guidebook to go with my journal (these letters) and the photos I took. I think that would be a nice present, wouldn’t you agree?
—Jenny
Dear Mrs. Fallace,
We spent the rest of the afternoon enclosed in soap-operatic drama. Eating lunch at the National Museum of the American Indian (where we went after the art galleries) is strongly not recommended because the chicken soup is spicy, and the buffalo burger, according to Tony, was flavorless. The only interesting thing about lunch was that it was Native American fare. Afterward we only had half an hour to go through a bit of the museum before it closed. I wasn’t all too interested in the Native Americans, so I nearly bolted out of the exhibit at the fifteen-minute-before-this-museum-closes warning. Aunt Sarah wasn’t too pleased with that because she had wanted to come here.
When we got back to the hotel, the real drama began. Aunt Sarah screamed at Uncle Frank for about an hour straight. They’ve got plenty of parallels with Ron and Hermione in the Harry Potter books all right. Sarah accused Frank of ignoring her achievements, and instead focusing on her failures, “putting her down” as we say. She was in such a sour mood that she nearly left for Pennsylvania a day early! (We were going to visit Pennsylvania to go to the Longwood Gardens and see an old friend of my aunt’s.) In the end, we kids had to make Uncle Frank swear to God that he wouldn’t lose his temper and yell at any family member anymore. So far he has kept his oath, but I’m not going to trust that.
We’re going to Pennsylvania tomorrow and it’s going to be a long car drive. Aunt Sarah has rented a car now, but we walked around DC and wore our feet to their metatarsals. What a lovely trip.
—Jenny

Day Seven: April 11, 2008
Dear Mrs. Fallace,
Wow, the Longwood Gardens are so lovely! I took so many pictures of it. It is simply splendid. What is not splendid, however, is the long drive that we endured just to get here. Uncle Frank nearly broke his vow. But they haven’t sued for divorce yet, and that is a good thing.
There simply aren’t enough adjectives in this language to describe the beauty and majesty of these gardens, so I’ll fast forward to my aunt’s friend’s house and family. She has a son named Anderson and a daughter named Alina. Alina is eleven, and she’s in fifth grade. Apparently their fifth grade is like our seventh grade because they’ve already learned what we’ll be learning in May. Alina also acts like a seventh grader with her manner of dressing (she always buys at Aeropostale, and would never touch Abercrombie or Hollister, the “preppy” stores, with a ten foot long pole) and her lifestyle (she gossips, stereotypes, surfs the internet, and obsesses over My Chemical Romance, especially Ray Toro’s afro and Gerard Way’s looks.) Her teachers only assign about 2 minutes’ worth of homework every night, so she has plenty of time to do what she wants. (and no, I don’t want to go to her school. I like it here at Venado.) We slept over at their house.
Tomorrow we’re flying home. I can’t wait to see you again.
—Jenny

Last Day: April 12, 2008
Dear Mrs. Fallace,
I’m heading back to good old Irvine now. I can’t wait for Monday. I want to see Brittany and Christina’s faces when I give them their little presents. I want to give Mr. Angel the document replicas to display in his classroom. But most of all, I want to see you again, and learn everything you can teach me about Biology before June. Can you believe how quickly time has gone by? Soon I’ll be an eighth grader and I won’t be little Jenny, the teacher’s pet anymore. That’s probably a hard thing to go through—letting your students go; especially those that did well in your class and who you wish you could teach again. (I bet you won’t be so misty-eyed seeing the “bad kids” off, though) But maybe I’m wrong and maybe I’m right. All I know now is that now I’m sitting in an airplane seat, feeling my ears pop and watching the plane’s progress on a map, watching it slowly take me back home.
—Jenny

Would this work? They're a set of letters I wrote to my teacher in seventh grade. It's quite a statement for my writing when it comes to casual topics. I swear that everything written here is absolutely true and please don't give out the information, even if it's not that personal.
There will be names not many people would recgonize, but then, reading my letters without background info is like reading fanfic without consulting Canon.

Letters To My Science Teacher: Destination Washington D.C.

Day One: April 5, 2008
Dear Mrs. Fallace,
HIIIIIII! I’m on a plane—a JetBlue plane, model A380. Right now I’m also watching TV. They’re built into the backs of the chairs. Pretty cool, huh? The show I’m watching now is 10.5, a sci-fi show about earthquakes and other natural; disasters. I applaud one of the characters’ (Samantha Hill, I think) tremendous knowledge of earth science. Earth science is so not MY forte. Ha. Later at seven they’ll be playing 10.5 Apocalypse. I want to see it, but by then I’ll probably be too busy learning more about Washington DC to be able to watch it.
I’m going to DC with my cousins Tony and Ashley, who like to call me Jenny-the-fur. (I personally HATE this nickname, so don’t get any ideas) Also coming along are my Aunt Sarah and Uncle Frank. They come up with the worst nicknames. (You can see them in the details book) Their dog, Rocky, is staying at home. Bet he doesn’t like that.
I wish you’d come along. Then I can have a conversation with at least someone who won’t be poking me every other word (Tony does that), criticizing me with a whole lot of swear words thrown in (Uncle Frank), making me feel insignificant (Aunt Sarah), or just being plain rude and immature (Ashley and Tony). Also, with them I feel like some alien from some distant planet in the Andromeda galaxy. It certainly isn’t fun feeling like that. Great…I’m not even in DC yet and already I’m school-sick (I don’t feel homesick, but I feel school-sick. How nice), and Portable C-sick. Boy, this is going to be a FUN vacation…
—Jenny
Dear Mrs. Fallace,
I am officially in DC now. Our plane actually landed in Virginia, at the Washington-Dulles Int’l Airport. We had to ride for about 40 minutes in a taxi to get to town, and so I took a lovely little catnap. After all, it was just as exciting as reading from the science book in class, but I would never sleep THERE. Our hotel is the George Washington University Inn and it’s just a block or so from said college campus. It has a really good Italian restaurant called Notti Blanche. It’s good, but expensive—dinner was $145!
—Jenny

Day Two: April 6, 2008
Dear Mrs. Fallace,
We went to the Museum of Natural History today. I like it. You’d probably like it too because they have a lot of evolution exhibits (which is to be expected from a natural history museum, right?) and a whole lot of fossils. Go Darwin!
Actually, we went at first to the White House, but they said that we had to apply for tickets through our congressman (Diane…something is ours, right? I forgot her last name.) Because it would probably take said congressman months to give a yea or a nay to the application, the White House was therefore out of the question.
But even before that, we ate breakfast at yet another expensive DC restaurant—the Old Ebbit’s Grill. It was so popular that the tables were all occupied, and we had to sit at the bar. The people next to me had so many Bloody Marys; I was getting sick of watching the bartender prepare glass after glass of tomato juice with celery. After breakfast, we had our White House tourist’s problem because my aunt and uncle did not consult with Diane whose-surname-I-can’t-remember. So we went over to the Washington Monument. Unfortunately, it was rainy and gloomy, and although we took some pictures, we decided to go again some other day when Uncle Frank can go get free tickets to go up to the top of the monument via elevator.
After that, we went to the Museum. Outside it was freezing cold, and I bet Mr. Angel would have loved to be there. He just thrives in freezing classrooms, and often told us that he wished that the air conditioning can go so low that it’ll snow in the room. Once we were inside, we visited nearly all the exhibits. I wandered away from the group once, because wandering around on my own or with a less annoying group than the one I came here with was something I did often. (I bet you’re imagining past field trips I would have went to where the chaperone had to call Lost and Found for my whereabouts.) According to Uncle Frank, Aunt Sarah had contemplated calling the FBI, and I don’t believe him. But anyways, I saw a lot of fossils and a lot of evolution. There was a mammals exhibit, an African culture exhibit, an insects exhibit, and the list goes on. One of the highlights of the day was watching the IMAX 3D film Sea Monsters: a Prehistoric Adventure, which was about a Dolichorhynchops osborni, or a Dolly for short. It looks like an older version of a dolphin, and the movie is about its life journey. Another highlight was seeing the Hope Diamond, a blue diamond that is supposedly cursed. What would have been a third highlight became a missed opportunity—the “Butterflies and Evolution” exhibit’s butterfly pavilion was closed. After tearing my eyes away from a pair of mating grasshoppers and their exasperated (and maybe scandalized) grasshopper buddies, we were told that the museum would be closing soon. We went down to the gift shop, and I bought lollisticks (they look more like candy canes without the curve, and are not peppermint flavored) for my cousins and myself and candy with bugs in them for Christina and Brittany. How appetizing…just kidding.
We went down to the cherry trees by the Potomac River and took a lot of photos there. Afterwards we ate dinner at a restaurant in Chinatown. Both of my cousins were complaining about their growling stomachs and sore feet. Back at the hotel, I had trouble sleeping because while our bedtime may be 9:00 here, back in Irvine it is still 6:00, and my biological clock hadn’t adjusted yet. So now I’m tossing and turning in bed, dreaming of what school would be like come Monday. That’s just how school-sick I am.
--Jenny

Day Three: April 7, 2008
Dear Mrs. Fallace,
We’ve decided to forego going back to the Washington Monument today because of inclement weather—yeah it’s raining again. Instead, we went to the National Air and Space Museum. It wasn’t as interesting to me as the Natural History Museum because I’m not interested in aerodynamics. I guess I just like things a little bit closer to home.
I bought a gyroscope from the gift shop, and I have no idea how to get it to work. Maybe M. Johnson can help, or you if you know anything about gyroscopic forces. It’s pretty cool either way. I should bring it to class one day…maybe. We watched a show about cosmic collisions in the planetarium, and learned how things can fly (and no, it is not gas propulsion, which was Tony’s immature comment. It is lift and thrust, which must overcome gravity’s pull and drag). In the IMAX theater I watched two movies: To Fly and Space Station 3D. I like the space station one more because it made space look like a nice and cozy place. It is about the International Space Station. To Fly is the inaugural film played for the grand opening of this museum, and it is about the history of flight. There was also a stimulator ride we went on—it wasn’t worth the money.
The exhibits were pretty intriguing, especially the satellite one where you could view the world from a satellite. I was zooming in on the Californian coast, although it most definitely is not Google Earth and I couldn’t find Irvine on the map. Or Huntington Beach, for that matter—no, I’m not trying to find out where you live. There were also a few displays about the electromagnetic spectrum, and a very awesome wheel that had a series of lenses and mirrors to show people how light is reflected in certain models of telescopes. One cool thing was that they had actual airplanes, rockets, and missiles hanging all over the place. I took pictures of some of them.
—Jenny

Day Four: April 8, 2008
Dear Mrs. Fallace,
Today we saw how money was made at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. You could smell the money there from the other side of the street. There’s money there, all right…loads and loads of it. Forget about bank robberies—rob the Bureau instead!
We got tickets for the 4:00 tour, so to kill off time we went to the Holocaust Memorial Museum next door. For my favorite museums at DC, the Holocaust Museum ranks third, under the Natural History Museum, which is in second place behind the International Spy Museum. The exhibits were very touching and intriguing. I mean, Hitler positively brainwashed the Germans into thinking that their race was superior to others, and that life was constantly a battle for the survival of the fittest and the fittest should be them and not any “inferior” race. And for members of those in the “inferior” races, their life was brutal indeed. I saw pictures and videos about the executions of millions of Jews, homosexuals, the physically or mentally disabled, gypsies, and anyone who did not measure up to Hitler’s standard. There was a model of the gas chambers, showing hundreds and thousands of those people getting killed by asphyxiation. Some of those corpses were sent to doctors for medical studies, especially in the field of genetics (how could they!). Other live victims became the guinea pigs for other experiments that were on the same plane as torture. All of this was too depressing for Aunt Sarah and my cousins, so they went to see the Hishorn Museum while Uncle Frank stayed behind. We were separated again because I was actually paying attention to the exhibits. In the end, Uncle Frank had to send up museum workers to track me down. It certainly is not fair. Harrumph.
After lunch we went on a tour of the Bureau. They showed us how money was made. Did you know the bills aren’t made individually? They are printed on huge pieces of “paper” that is part linen and part cotton. There is about 36 or so forth bills on each sheet. The guide said that we can buy some of those sheets there in the gift shop. Isn’t that crazy: buying money with money? The gift shop also has shredded dollars in a bag. Altogether the bills in the bag have a worth of about $150…if they weren’t shredded.
We went to the Jefferson Memorial afterwards. From there you can see the White House, although it is very small. In the gift shop there I bought a replica set of the Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights, and Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. All of them are reprinted onto parchment, and are somewhat hard to read. But if I could decipher the Tech Trek letter, I can read the Constitution replica. I don’t know whether to give it to Mr. Angel or to Mrs. Wimbrow, but I’d probably give it to the former because he also teaches US History. But that’s not helping my thoughts on what to get you…I’ll think on it.
—Jenny

Day Five: April 9, 2008
Dear Mrs. Fallace,
Boy, my feet hurt. We’ve set a record for most landmarks/attractions visited in a day today by visiting six. We visited the Washington Monument (Frank got the tickets at long last!), the World War II Memorial, the Lincoln Memorial, the Vietnam Memorial, and the outside of the White House—all before lunch. Bless the mighty mitochondria of my leg muscle cells! We took pictures outside of the White House because we couldn’t go in, but I’m fine with that. My aunt and uncle decided not to go to Monticello and Mount Vernon because they were too far. Sorry about that. The same fate befell the Roosevelt Memorial (both of them), the Pentagon, and the National Museum of Health and Medicine. I wanted to go to the last one because they had real body parts on display and there were stuffed germs in the gift shop. If we went, there wouldn’t be any question as to what I’d get you, but because we didn’t, I’m sad all the same.
This disappointment was somewhat alleviated by visiting the International Spy Museum. Their café, Spy City, had a wide range of hot dogs, but I don’t like hot dogs. My cousin Tony did, though, and had loads of cheese on his. How nauseating. I ordered a Panini. The museum, however, was not free because it was not part of the Smithsonian. But it was worth it because we had to assume aliases and anyone who knew me in elementary school knows that I love using fake names (I used my pen name on their valentines once). I was 13 year old Jane Meyer, who went to Ireland on a vacation (I wish it was for real). We had to withstand questioning by computerized guards and we crawled through air ducts to spy on people in the museum. There were real gadgets that real spies used, like a lipstick gun (Tony wondered if the spy using it would accidentally shoot him/herself because they forgot that it was a gun) and a shoe whose heel was actually an empty compartment. We also saw the history of espionage, and learned shocking things along the way. Did you know that George Washington started and led the nation’s first spy ring? Julia Child once served in the OSS and Alexander the Great read his soldiers’ mail to see whether they were loyal or not. At the end, we found our houses on Google Earth and shopped in the gift shop. On Google Earth I found the neighborhood near the Bolsa Chica Wetlands. Be afraid. Be very, very afraid. I also found my house, by the way. Tony bought a mosquito prankster that buzzed in dark areas to annoy the occupants of the room. He pulled the prank on Frank (hey they rhyme!), who was nearly driven to insanity before he “spied” on Tony while my cousin replaced the prankster thing in his shoe. On hindsight, I really ought to have bought you a handheld lie detector. It would come in handy the next time someone violates one of your rules.
The Spy Museum really had an effect on me. While we waited to get our pizzas (that was dinner), I was suspiciously eying everyone. After all, about one third of the tourist population in DC are spies. I paid the most attention to people with bags because you can hide cameras and disguises in there. Because Sarah bought Tony books on the CIA and the FBI, I read those books while he immersed himself in Harry Potter and his Nintendo DS. I think I’ll be a scientist for the CIA.
—Jenny

Day Six: April 10, 2008
Dear Mrs. Fallace,
I went to the Capitol today with the others at 7:30 just to get tickets for the tours. Can you believe that you have to present yourself in order to get a ticket? No one can get more than one. It’s annoying because my biological clock cannot wake up at 4:30 (that’s Irvine time for 7:30). I envy you—you get to sleep in, and your biological clock isn’t thrown out of whack because you’re not on the other side of the country.
Our tour was scheduled for 12:45 so we toddled off to see some art at the National Gallery of Art, East Building. All I have to say is that some of the contemporary paintings displayed there were quite a waste of canvas. What is so artistic about two vertical lines on a blissfully blank canvas? Would you call that art? We then briefly toured the West Building, which was much better than the East Building in my opinion, even if they showcased quite an array of nudes and scantily clad people. We even saw the painting of Ginevra de’Bedici by Leonardo daVinci. Time soon ran out so we went back to the Capitol and toured the place. It is absolutely lavish. The place is practically stuffed with ornate carvings, chandeliers, paintings, and so on. If those were the results of our tax money, I am going to be so angry. There is a spot where all four zip codes used in DC come together, and we took pictures of it. Then, we went to see the Senate and the House of Representatives. In the Senate gallery, I saw where our current presidential candidates sat in the room. Clinton sits a few rows behind Obama, who sits in the front. McCain sits on the other side of the room from them, in the Republican side. He sits near the back. Uncle Frank insisted we sneak into the House gallery, and we succeeded, although I strongly disapproved of it. There we saw Nancy Pelosi

Seeing Rapist!Anthony was kind of like the fanfic version of being violently savaged by a baby rabbit.

Sky can't very well go as a woman in male clothing in Victorian London and she'd be unable to move if she wore appropriate womens' clothing, so it looks like a male disguise is the best way. She would probably make an even less convincing boy than Johanna does if it wasn't for the Disguise Generator ... But then that may spoil the funny of another mission I wanted to do later, in which all four of my agents wind up getting gender-bent without their consent. (The Sue in that one drags Harry, Ron and Draco through a portal which turns them into beautiful Arabian handmaidens. Yeah.) Thoughts?

At least they have an obvious way to dispose of the corpse of Anthony's creepy replacement.

Where's your writing sample? Did you already submit one earlier? If so, you may want to give another link for ease of whatever PG takes you on.

Good luck!