...Because I know what the Denizens want, and I'll write it for reviews...

SPECIAL BONUS FEATURE: DELETED SCENE FROM END OF CHAPTER TWENTY

Bobby's study. Dean and Sam are poring over books.

Dean (biting bottom lip in attractive confusion): They have aspects suggestive of Amazons, temptation demons, Deadly Sins, succubi, sirens, but they aren't any of those things. What the hell are they?

Sam (frowning adorably): I think they might be a sub-genre of... fangirl.

Dean (looking cutely vulnerable): But... how do they get past Bobby? Why are they always so... convincing?

Sam (doing eyebrow thing that makes him look like a little boy who needs to be mothered): I think they might be tapping into the power of a fickriter.

Dean: A what?

Sam: It's a creature that can bend reality to suit itself for the purposes of amusement. It derives its power by feeding off the adulation of others. They, in turn, are inspired to encourage it. It's a vicious circle.

Bobby: My advice to you idjits is that you don't go messin' with one of these things. They're pretty much harmless. They just sit at their laptops, and giggle to themselves.

Dean: Harmless? Harmless? You haven't been inside that van, Bobby! It's... it's...

Sam (in a small voice): I don't want to go back into the custard tub...

Bobby: Well, you always come out so clean and presentable, smellin' nice, and I know that Dean enjoys the thing with the chocolate brush, and unless I've suddenly adopted a cat, I suspect that the purrin' noise is coming from Sam when they do the scalp massage and hair treatments...

*The Winchesters both blush furiously*

Dean: So, how do we stop them? Set fire to that *shudder* van?

Sam: We have to deal with the fickriter. *touches own hair* Although it will be a shame, because it always comes out so nice and soft afterwards...

Dean: So, we deal with them, we remove the source of the fickriter's power, and it shrivels up and dies?

Bobby: Pretty much. No adulation, it'll just sit there, and sob quietly into its own keyboard.

Dean: Right. So, we go confront these things in their lair. Take the fight to them. Are there any weapons we have that will work against these things?

Sam: Hang on... reminders of Real Life can repel them.

Dean: What sort of reminders?

Sam: Uh, says here, reminders of Real Life, including the workplace, such as PowerPoint presentations and meaningless jargon, or textbooks or conversations suggestive of schoolwork requiring completion. Stuff like that.

Dean: Okay, we can suit up and work with that. Gimme that business card, Bobby.

Bobby: I think this is a mistake. They provide a valuable service, you know.

Sam: That's easy for you to say, you haven't had the chocolate sauce massage...

Dean: To the Winchestermobile!

They drive to the headquarters of DDD&SSS. They sneak down damp stairs and along a darkened hallway.

Sam: This place seems creepily familiar, somehow.

Dean: It's probably the smell of custard evoking memories of... you know...

They hear that jingle practice is in progress.

Bartlebead: All right, ladies, altos watch your bottom register...

ccase: I know whose bottom I'd like to register.

*Denizens all giggle and guffaw*

Katiki: Yes, but have you read my assay on the registerableness of Sam's backside?

Darla: But Dean's just had his waxed.

Denizens *mutters of approval*

Bartlebead: Save it for tomorrow's seminar, ladies, when the topic will be 'Winchester Backsides: a Custard-Coated Perspective', chaired by SeaGlassGreen. Now, from the top, and a-one, and a-two, and a one, two, three,

Denizens: Have your Winchesters been traumatised by curse of body switch?
Do you need someone to come and calm your stressed out jerk and bitch?
Call DDD&SSS to soak and soothe and scrub,
We're local and we're prompt and we've just filled the custard tub.

Steelhorse67: Excellent job, ladies, now, I have had a request from admin that we take more care with the surface of the pool table...

knivespast (muttering): It barely even got damp...

Steelhorse67: Also, these riding crops showed up, they'll go into Lost Property if not claimed.

Georgia/Kepouros: That one's mine, sorry, won't happen again, silly me, brain like a sieve, etc.

Anj Emm: Has the games committee anything to report?

aeicha: Yes, we have made progress with our new project. It's a board game called 'Handsome Handsome Hunter'.

Denizens: Oooooooh.

PaulatheCat: Meow, every time you land on a Handsome square, your Winchester gets to put on another item, until you have collected them all.

LeighAnnWallace: Then there's the Adults Only version; every time you land on a Handsome square, your Winchester removes an item...

Denizens: Oooooooh!

Dean and Sam kick in the door, and stride in, wearing suits and serious expressions.

Sam (brandishing PDA): All right, level the playing field, run it up the flagpole and see if you can get it pregnant, I want blue sky thinking outside the box, to repurpose and realign face-time before shooting the puppy and taking ownership of the space – there are seventy-three items on the agenda, I want spreadsheets from everybody before COB as a KPI or it's a CLM, and you're DOA, PNG so POQ and RIP. Fear my TLAs! Anyone who's just GTTM, can GTFO. No POETS day, so PUOSU. Now, back to work, slaves, before I sell you all to the galleys.

Dean (glaring over silver wire-rimmed glasses and frowning at clipboard): Tonight, read chapters 4 through 9, and summarise each, it will be on the exam, and also on the quiz first thing tomorrow morning. I want a ten-thousand word essay on why the topic is a good idea, explain elaborate and discuss, contrast and compare, with the other, and heaven help you if your footnotes are not in order. Complete all problems at the end of Section 3, and show your working, or you will be marked down. There will a be a uniform inspection, a lab book inspection, a lunch box inspection, and all phones, iPods and novelty pens will be confiscated. Incidentally, you all have detention. Now drop and give me ten!

Denizens: Ska-WEEEEEEEEEE!

Jelly: Oh, they look so edible! I mean, professional.

Leahelisabeth: Prof Sam, Prof Sam, I need help with my calculus! I want to integrate with you!

SeaGlassGreen: Wanna see how many laps of the custard tub I can do, Mr Winchester?

DefyTheUnknown: I love me some Winchesters all dressed up...

elf: I love me some Winchesters getting undressed!

maybe-moey: I'll just go and get the chocolate brush, shall I?

Rockwat: See if there's any whipped cream left!

Dean (looking worried): Er, this doesn't seem to be scaring them off at all.

Sam: YEEEEEP! Oh, no, Dean, we're in their games room! Our weapons are useless against them in here! Madam, keep your derivative to yourself!

PhoenixFelicis: I wanna analyse the force your vector has, Prof Sam!

Sam: Aaaaaaaargh!

Dean: That's it, we're out of here... Yaaaaargh!

*He trips over a carelessly discarded riding crop*

MegginLane: Now, just lie there and I'll show you how many push-ups I can do...

Dean: Er... *he scrambles out from beneath MegginLane*

*vsama, emebalia and Dani1200 leap out from behind the sofa with large cargo net and throw it over the Winchesters*

Sam and Dean: AAAAAAAAAAARGH!

aeicha: Now would be an excellent time to do some beta testing of Handsome Handsome Hunter!

Denizens: Yaaaaaaay!

*They divide up into Team Sam and Team Dean. They strike a problem almost immediately, as an argument breaks out over who gets their Winchester to wear the collar, the bunny ears and the sparkly briefs. Inevitably, Shenanigans A La Winchester ensues, with scrubbing, massaging, screaming and chocolate.*

Under the pool table

TheBlueOrleans: What are we doing under here again?

Ronnie: Hiding until they get it out of their systems. Did you bring a book? It could take a while.

In the spa room

Bobby (hefting wrench): Well, there's your problem, this was stuck in the filter box. *He deposits soggy pair of shorts on the tiles* Is that a butterfly?

Lampito: You are a man of many capabilities, Mr Singer.

Bobby: Looks to me like your gasket might be goin', probably needs recaulkin'. A butyl sealant would be best.

Lampito: I cannot help but notice how manly you look in those overalls.

Bobby: I noticed that you got a bit of mould growin' on the pump housing, you might want to take the pressure washer to that.

Lampito: You honey-tongued Casanova.

Bobby: Use an alkaline degreaser, but then you might want to consider regroutin' around the housing, that stuff can be pretty harsh, but it'll get rid of the mould, and the scum that builds up around the trap grating.

Lampito: I cannot resist your seductive blandishments, Mr Singer.

*Splashing and a surprised yelp of "God's tits!" are heard*

FIN

Aaaaaaand another bunny finally bites the dust. *squeak* Huzzah!

So, for now, I'll be off to give a bit more thought and attention to bunny #2 from 'The Jimiverse's Next Top Plot Bunny', as it has twice the votes of the others. I blame the corrupting influence of Leahelisabeth. I have been wondering which fanfic staple trope I should give the Lampito treatment next, seeing as I've now done body-swap/gender bender, a Weechesters, a deaged fic, an mpreg, gratuitous nudity, 'Just Like You' was pretty much a kidfic, and even a wedding of sorts (even if Castiel was a terribly reluctant bridesmaid). AU is all that's left. AU to the AU that is the Jimiverse, that is. That, and evil Winchesters. As ever, I am open to suggestions. The Jimiverse: screwing with your favourite fanfic themes, one bunny at a time...

Meanwhile, you know the drill: Reviews make the fickriter rite ficks! And, for the last time: NO SHENANIGANS ON THE POOL TABLE!