Notes: This fanfiction is a spinoff of the amazing "Official Fanfiction University of Middle Earth," by Camilla Sandman. If you haven't read it, do.

I don't own Weiss Kreuz. If you sue me, you will get exactly five dollars. Is that worth the legal fees, people?

The Weiß Kreuz Fanfiction Academy

It was late. (1)

In a darkened room, before a faintly glowing computer screen, sat a writer. A fanfiction writer.

Let's examine.

This writer's name was Clara. She was nineteen years old, and, on a night when she really ought to be studying for her European History quiz, was dinking around with a fanfiction.

. . . This is not unusual behavior, for a writer.

Clara grinned, a caffeine-maddened, four-a.m. grin, at her computer screen. It stared back with a faintly terrified expression. (2)

"'I love you, Brad,' Schuldig said, staring up into his lover's beautiful, amber eyes.

'I love you too, Angel,' Crawford replied, the words escaping his soft lips as if flying on moth-wings.

With that, the American pulled Schuldig close, breathing in the smell of his flame-red hair, and they drifted off into sleep in eachother's arms."(3)

This bit of cotton-candy fluff was definitely going to bring in the reviews.

Clara saved the story to her computer (which, if she'd listened closely, she would have heard emit a muffled sob), and pulled up the "document manager" screen on fanfiction.net. For the moment, she didn't mind that she had to be in class in five hours. Sleep was unnecessary when supplemented with fluffy shounen-ai scenes. She paused with her finger poised over the mouse, ready to click "upload." There was something very cold, and very hard pressed into the base of her skull.

"You really shouldn't do that."

"Uhm." She took her hand off the mouse.

The gun was removed. "Good."

Clara, very slowly and very meekly, turned to face the speaker. She was staring up into a pair of (4) amber eyes. "Eep."

She had a creeping suspicion that she may be about to die.

"Achem. I am here from the Weiss Kreuz Fanfiction Academy, inviting (5) you to enroll at our prestigious establishment and improve your knowledge of canon, writing skills, and survival instincts through our unique curriculum, based around a 'Learn or Suffer' philosophy." The speech had a written, revised, rehearsed, and reinforced (6) sound.

When Crawford handed her the stack of registration papers, Clara didn't need to look for a pen. It leapt off of the desk and into her hand.

"I trust you'll consider our offer," he stated.

Clara nodded mutely. She didn't watch him leave. She expected anything other than filling out her application would get her killed.

It is past four, she thought. I could be dreaming.

She decided not to take the risk.

1, said the form (7) what is your name?

2. Have you actually bothered to watch the anime series Weiss Kreuz?

3. What genre do you write?

5. Do you, or have you, ever written a Mary Sue (see glossary)

Putting her application on hold for the moment, Clara leafed through the stack of papers. It was about a foot high. The glossary, at the back, took up roughly a fifth of this. Another fifth was registration information. The rest was rules, a list of items to pack, and a thick packet labeled Crimes Against Language, Canon, and Characters.

Eep.

The computer smirked at her. Vengeance, at last!

"Don't give me that look," she told it. "You're coming with me."

Clara spent the next two hours packing, filling out forms, and making a mental note to skip history. If this was a dream, it was a tiring one.

She fell asleep with her head on the stack of papers.

Approximately an hour and a half later, she awoke with her head resting at an odd angle, and most definitely not in her dorm room.

Clara opened one eye, and found herself peering at what appeared to be a pair of small tarantulas. She yelped.

". . . ow," said the tarantulas.

Clara took a deep breath, blinked several times, and looked again.

The tarantulas were, in fact, a pair of heavily-masacaraed eyes, belonging to a pale-faced girl, slightly younger than Clara herself.

". . . hi?" the girl said.

"Uhm, hi." replied Clara. "I'm Clara."

The girl smiled nervously. "I'm Caoimhe.(8)"

Clara stared. ". . . really?"

Caoimhe sighed. "No," she said sadly. "My real name's Kelly."

A crackling sound came from overhead. Clara glanced nervously upwards. Her sleep-deprived brain kept expecting things to explode suddenly. She was only slightly calmed by the cheery voice from what she now realised was the intercom.

"Hello, my name is Sakura Tomoe, and I'd like to welcome our new students to the Weiss Kreuz Fanfiction Academy! The plane will be landing shortly. Buses will be waiting to take you to our lovely campus. Upon arrival, you will report to the main office, where you will be issued room assignments, course schedules based upon your personal needs, and campus maps. Have a lovely year!"

Oh. A plane.

"This is all pretty weird, huh?" Caoimhe commented. "I mean, it's like starting all over with college, but for ficcing. I can't believe there are so many people!"

Clara looked around, and saw, for the first time, that the plane was packed. Prospective students, mostly female, filled every seat. Some of them were chatting excitedly, others looking around, and a few simply sat and stared at the backs of the seats in front of them, looking more than a little terrified. These were the ones Clara sympathised most with.

"I heard there are two more planes, too," Caoimhe said. "And the information packets say our classes will be taught by the Weiss characters and everything."

Remembering the deathly gleam in Crawford's eyes the night before, Clara found it hard to share the other girl's excitement. She could not imagine taking classes with him, and preferred to keep it that way.

Suddenly, the plane dropped significantly. Clara shut her eyes tightly.

"There will be some minor turbulence during our landing, so everyone please fasten your seat belts!" said Sakura's voice over the intercom.

Minor, Clara thought. MINOR?

The plane lurched again. Clara whimpered and hugged the seat in front of her, fully prepared to die.

(1) Well, early, if you want to get technical. Four a.m.

(2) Many fanfiction writers do not consider the feelings of their computer about what they are used to create. This is cruel.

(3)Clara's fanfiction was not particularly unusual, either.

(4)Not so much beautiful as wrathful.

(5) Never before had Clara had such a compelling invitation. This one had a definite inflection of OR ELSE to it.

(6) With Crawford's own firm belief in the cause. And a gun.

(7) In Courier New font, size ten.

(8) Pronounced "Keeva," meaning "beautiful." Don't you just love Gaelic?

To apply for the WFA, send an e-mail to jiasachanyahoo.com with the following information:

Name:
Nicknames:
Gender:
Have you ever written a Weiss Mary-Sue fic?
Have you ever written shounen ai or yaoi for Weiss Kreuz?
What is the main fault in your writing? (ex. purple prose, bad characterization, little to no plot, etc.)
What is a quote you have said before or are likely to say?
Other useful information:

Do not leave this information in a review. If you apply through the review board, I will ignore your application.
If you apply, I'll give you a cameo appearance in the fic if I can fit you in. If not, I'm sorry, but thank you for applying!

Questions? Comments? Snide remarks?