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Ficbit Requests
I haven't done one of these for awhile, and I'm bored, and I feel a need to be productive about something therefore. Ficbit request time! Give me a characters, series, and/or circumstance, and I shall try my merry damnedest to give you fic in return. Length is debatable. Quality will be VERY debatable. Prose will possibly be purple. Pr0n will possibly be HORRIBLY BAD. But ohgodheregoes.
Fandoms as (vaguely) listed:
Bleach
Naruto
Fullmetal Alchemist
Shamanic Princess
Kingdom Hearts (and uh, by extension. Disney. Shaddup. I LIKE MY URSULAFIC DAMNIT)
My-HiME
Samurai Champloo
Avatar: The Last Airbender (...I make no guarantees on this one though. Except that I LOVE THIS FAKE ANIME and EVERYONE NEEDS TO SEE EP 13 LIKE NOW)
Zombie Powder
D.Gray-man
The Incredibles (why not.)
Whooboy.
Fandoms as (vaguely) listed:
Bleach
Naruto
Fullmetal Alchemist
Shamanic Princess
Kingdom Hearts (and uh, by extension. Disney. Shaddup. I LIKE MY URSULAFIC DAMNIT)
My-HiME
Samurai Champloo
Avatar: The Last Airbender (...I make no guarantees on this one though. Except that I LOVE THIS FAKE ANIME and EVERYONE NEEDS TO SEE EP 13 LIKE NOW)
Zombie Powder
D.Gray-man
The Incredibles (why not.)
Whooboy.
no subject
The Incredibles: The Interview
“…you’re a little…overqualified.”
The young lady looked up. She’d been trying not to fidget and she’d thought she’d done a good job at it. Now her hands tightened in her lap. “…overqualified?”
The man was squat with his eyes spaced far apart. He would have looked like a troll if not for the suit. He pinned her with those beady little eyes: “You’re just not what we’re looking for right now.”
She could have sworn for a moment his gaze had dropped to the front of her blouse.
“I see. Thank you for time,” she said, with a wounded dignity. Her stride fell apart the moment she stepped outside the building. She turned the corner, ran a hand back through her hair, took her glasses off and promptly threw them down and ground them under her impressively narrow shoe. Heels. She’d worn heels for this one. As though it might make a difference from the five other interviews she’d had that month. She could barely move in them.
“Overqualified,” she snarled, grinding the lenses into a fine powder. “Overqualified. Who is overqualified.”
“No one is,” said a voice, from the curb. She looked up and nearly tipping herself over. There was a car stopped there. The man--boy, really, he looked a few years younger than her--was looking at her, hands drumming on the wheel. “It’s a nice word though, isn’t it? ‘Overqualified.’ Telling you you’re worth nothing just by being too. Damn. Special. For ‘em. Kind of gets your goat, doesn’t it?”
He had a greasy look-- although his eyes were striking when he raised his brow at her. She just narrowed hers. “I didn’t ask for an opinion.”
He smiled. “And I didn’t stop out of the goodness of my heart. Elena Sahara is it? Right now anyway?”
A sudden tightness in her throat: “…how did you…”
“It was Gibson. When we took that bio course together. Sara Gibson. Liked to sit in the back. Small, easy to miss, never talked, kinda cute, kinda nerdy.” He was one to talk. He glanced her over. “You look good, Sara. Or, um, should I say…Mirage?”
She could’ve run if she left her shoes. They were expensive though, she folded her arms carefully instead. “….what do you want from me.”
“Nothing in particular. I just don’t see why you’re going all corporate when you do plenty of great things with that hobby of yours. You’re good at it, aren’t you? That whole…slipping under the radar screen thing? That’s why they keep turning you down. You don’t command enough of a…presence. Plus, yanno, your resumes gee golly impressive and that just scares them—I have a job offer to make to you.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “…I’m listening.”
“Great!” The man grinned. He had terrible teeth. It was somehow a nice smile, though. She could remember him, vaguely. Or she could remember the freckles, she wasn’t sure. He leaned over to tap the empty passengers’ seat next to him. “Let’s talk.”
Re: The Incredibles: The Interview