A/N: got another update for you, but in truth I don't think this one is all that funny, it's more stating my personal opinion on a certain type of writer that really, really, pisses me off. So I'm sorry if this wasn't what you were looking for, or if you're offended by it, but I felt the need to include this, so I hope you'll forgive me.
"That's it!" Christine yelled. "I've had enough of this mad house. I'm leaving before anything else happens; you two, enjoy your fan clubs." And in a tantrum befitting a true diva, Christine stormed from the room, leaving the others blinking.
"Is she going the direction I think she's going?" Raoul asked slowly, turning his head towards Erik.
"I believe so…" he answered with the smallest hint of a grin.
Turning another corner, Christine ran headlong into a girl who looked oddly familiar, though she was sure they hadn't met before.
"Oh, excuse me," the girl said in a huff, but as she beheld Christine, her eyes went wide with shock.
"Do I know you?" Christine asked the stunned girl.
The loud sound of a snort coming from the opposite corner brought Christine's attention to yet another girl, standing quite bored and with a rather haughty expression firmly planted on her face.
"I was wondering when you would get here," the girl from the corner said lazily, barely even lifting her eyes.
"Sorry 'bout that, Elite. Been a little busy today," a strangely accented voice drifted from directly behind her. Christine jumped, turning to see The Slayer standing with a smug grin on her faceand rather unsettlingly close to her. She was eyeing the girl in front of Christine, who was now backingaway ever so slowly.
"What's this all about?" asked the backinggirl with an air of dignity. Elite only made a scoffing noise at the show of bravado.
"Get on with it then," Elite said calmly, watching the scene unfold with suppressed anticipation.
The unnamed girl glanced quickly at the other three, still backing up. Christine thought it was better to let them sort out their own problems and moved away from the action with her arms folded tightly across her chest. There was no telling what any of these people would do.
"You don't think…" began the girl with a tone ofdisgust in her voice. "You know I'm not, one of them."
"Sorry, nothin' personal, but it's my job to rid the world of Mary Sue's." The Slayer replied.
"But I am not a Mary Sue!" the girl defiantly cried, holding her head high. "I, am well developed!"
The Slayer simply raised her brow. "Are you a non canonical female?"
"Well… yes, but—"
"DIE!" The Slayer screamed, lunging towards the girl. Christine watched, completely shocked, as thegirl ran from the room with The Slayer trailing fast. All at once there was a blood curdling scream and then, silence.
Elite peeled herself away from the wall with a smirk. "It's true, she was well developed, but The Slayer tends to be a little over zealous in her job. Not that it isn't to my advantage, of course. Well developed or not, that girls author had terrible grammar skills, The Slayer's really doing us all a favour by ridding us of her."
Christine gave her a quizzical look.
"Don't worry Christine; I'm on your side. You wouldn't believe the drabble that comes out of these girls. You know, sometimes I think they actually believe they're writing for themselves and their equally inane friends, ignorant of the fact that by writing their stories, people like me have to go through them, looking for the writers that actually have a solid grasp of the English language."
Christine blinked.
"I mean if they realized the hours I've wasted… it really is a crime you know, I should be pitied. Reading their hard work…" Elite shook her head sadly. "You have to wonder how many actually think they have a chance at being published."
Something just wasn't clicking in Christine's head as she observed Elite. "You do realize that over half of them are still in high school, right? And have no interest in pursing writing careers…"
"Another excellent point! There should at least be an eighteen year old age limit I think, the fact I just turned eighteen two months ago is beside the point,what i'm getting tois that most younger writerssimply don't have the experience needed."
"Well isn't this giving them the experience and helping them improve—"
"Yes but I, have to read it! It's outrageous!" Elite sighed and tapped Christine sympathetically on the shoulder. "They really should all just be rounded up and shot. It would save me a lot of time."
Christine backed away from the girl, not sure if she liked her anymore than these other fic writers. "I think I'll just be going now," she said slowly, heading in the opposite direction.
"I wouldn't go that way if I were you," Elite called, grinning to herself.
Christine stopped dead in her tracks, the last thing she needed was to wander in on some more humour writers. "And why is that?"
"That, my dear, is the way to the Daae nursery."
Not sure she heard right, Christine gave the girl the most perplexing glare. "Excuse me?"
"The Daae nursery," she repeated, once again coming to stand beside her. "I think that that Mary Sue somehow managed to escape from it. You are very fertile in this fandom, Christine. Though unfortunately you also manage to defy most medical knowledge and are about 75 percent likely to die while giving birth. It's a shame really, in either case, it will almost definitely be a difficult labor."
Christine's jaw dropped in horror. Her? A mother! "And just who exactly is supposed to be the father of all these fatal children?"
Just then Erik and Raoul walked in, looking for Christine. She turned to them, with a fully flushed face andwith an expressionas though she wanted to kill the next person who spoke.
"This girl was just telling me about a certain nursery. Care to explain?"
Both men stood quietly for a moment, not sure where to start. Elite was busy smiling smugly at the rest of them, fully enjoying herself.
Erik was the first to step forward. "Well, I see you've met Elite, the resident Elitist."
The girl's grin widened.
He then turned to look at her more directly. "But perhaps better known as our resident bitch."
The smile fell as fast as it camewhile a look of complete outrage took its place. "Why I… Fine, I'll leave! But you just wait! When I'm no longer here to make my oh so witty remarks at kids for actually writing at their age level, or discourage other potentially good writer even from trying, you'll be swamped with a cesspool of your own undoing! You'll just long for the days when the use of an adjective was common, and people spent time proof reading. Then you'll be begging for me to come back! You just wait! Just--"
"Wait. Yeah we got it," Erik finnished, turning back to Christine.
Fully outragged, Elite triumphantly left the room, making sure to strut the entire way with her head held as high as possible.
"What a bitch," Christine commented once she had left.
"Don't mind her," began Erik. "I think she just likes the sound of her voice. She does this about every other month, but always comes back saying how she's needed here and it's her personal mission to save the fandom by making thirteen year olds cry. I mean, obviously, her opinion is the only one that really matters, but in truth," Erik leaned in to whisper quietly. "Nobody cares."
A/N: well I hope nobody's too mad at me for that little rant and to everyone who wasn't, keep writing! Don't let anyone discourage you, and let loose whatever your wild imagination has in store for the rest of us. I love you guys!
