Application - Marla Singer, from 'Fight Club'

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

((God, oh God, stop me, really. Nine characters. I'm in for it. For reference, I'm playing a combination of movie and book!Marla, just because they both have their own kind of batshit insane tendencies. This is also Marla before, you know, insert large spoiler here at the end of Fight Club, so Captain Blankity Blank is not dead, in her eyes. She's also operating circa the late 90's, so try not to break her head TOO much.))


Four walls of stone, a table piled with yellowed parchment and a single quill poised on the heap, just waiting for somebody to get it writing, and Marla Singer had to wonder just what in the world she had taken before she'd stepped out of her shitty little apartment that morning. Brief check, from her rat's nest of a hairdo, tied into haphazard ponytails in various locations across her head, down to bone white legs shoved into a ratty pair of black combat boots and, nah. She wasn't on anything. She wouldn't be standing right now, then, would she?



"Fucking piece of bullshit excuse for a lighter, I swear to God," she hissed crossly to the small piece of plastic in her hand as she plopped down, rather unceremoniously, onto a seat on the table of applications, eyebrow arched behind a pair of dark, black sunglasses, cleverly engineered to disguise any hangover. Not that she had one at the moment, but, well, she imagined they were. "FUCKING LIGHT."

Her thumb furiously clicked down on the tiny wheel of the lighter until sparks finally turned into one, long flame. One she promptly used to light a cigarette, agitatedly blowing out a stream of smoke once she'd finally succeeded. And then, of course, proceeded to toss over her shoulder, sending the thing skittering across stones into a wall. It was a piece of shit anyway, about to get sent off to the metaphorical lighter graveyard, a structure that strongly resembled a trash can.

Even with the rather sizable fur coat... crossing her legs in such a short skirt, it was probably quite simple to see a pair of flowered panties as Marla snatched at a piece of paper beside her on the table, but, well, she'd never exactly been one to class. Besides, she was otherwise distracted, and panties were certainly not a concern to her at the moment. "Hello, pretty," she commented, cocking an eyebrow and scanning the sheet. "So just what the hell are you?"

An application? Christ, she hadn't filled out one of these since she'd gotten garbage man for a job, way back when on Career Day in grade school. "Well, shit," she smirked, tapping a bit of ash onto the floor and idly swinging her foot around in a circle. "Pass the time, shall we?"


---


1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?

At least it was damn entertainment. "Who the fuck asks about cheese for the first question on some application?" she asked in an estranged sort of voice, finally removing her glasses in order to see the paper, revealing dark, hooded eyes set on whites that were almost too bleached to be human. The quill automatically jumped into action on one of the applications beside her, and not even batting an eye towards an inanimate object that was seemingly moving around all on its own, she waved a vague hand as ink automatically started striking out her last statement. "Don't write that."

Cheese. What the hell could she say about cheese? "Oh, you know, I think a nice brie would do great!" she added brightly, voice laced with sarcasm. "With a fantastic wine. I can even wear my littlest cocktail dress!" Okay, dropping the act. "Or, you know, that watery shit they melt over hot dogs. I don't fucking care, for Christ's sake, it's cheese."

2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?

"Now, see, that one I can answer," she said aloud, jabbing a finger at the parchment and generally splashing a waterfall of ashes all down the sheet in front of her. "Carrottop. That hair? Those jokes? Oh, yeah, he's down the fuckin' tubes. Like to riddle him full of something, I swear. Probably something sharp. With lots of twisting for emphasis."

3. What time is it where you are?

Right. Like she even knew what day it was. With an odd sort of eye roll and a wrinkled nose of disgust, she just entertained herself for a few long seconds by burning holes through the paper. Heh. Neat.

4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them?

...The hell was The Order of the Phoenix? Was that some movie she didn't know about? "Christ, I don't know," she mumbled dryly, taking a drag off her cigarette and letting long, wafting tendrils of smoke escape from her lips. "Is that Brad What's-His-Name guy in that? He's in everything nowadays, fucking honestly. Ass like steel, though, I gotta say." Sure. Whatever. She chose him. Yes.

5. If you are pushing to be in:

A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.

"What is this? Some survey for Hot Topic Wannabes Anonymous?" she asked nobody in particular with an odd sort of smirk tugging at her mouth. "I'd really rather not do the bartending, you know, what with the whiny businessmen, weaving a horrid tale of lies and deceit when, in the end, all they really want is in your knickers." She rolled her eyes, flicking the butt of her cigarette idly behind her. "Thanks, but, really, no thanks."

B. Gryffindor – Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.

Fred, George and Harry, eh? Sounded like some kind of wildly homoerotic love triangle. Hot. "By all means, boys, fuck wherever you'd like, I mean it," she commented amusedly to the piece of paper, a wicked grin starting in on her face. "But I'm pretty sure that shit's illegal. No marriage for you." Beat. "Unless, of course, you wanna dress Harry up like a chick, George can be Fred's best man, and, what the hell, you can all have some wild, tequila-induced grope-fest in Hawaii. Be my guest."

C. Ravenclaw – You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.

Marla? Paperwork? Were those even allowed within the vicinity of each other? "Tragically, you're suffering from an ailment that some people refer to as a 'job'," she suggested, propping up her chin in the heel of a hand and letting her eyes gaze around the room. This place was pretty drab, in retrospect. "Luckily, it's no lupus, and there actually is a cure. How droll. Quit, get your unemployment, and voila. Paperwork no more. It's some other fucknut's job now."

D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.

Considering if Marla ends up anywhere NEAR Hufflepuff, I'm going to be severely confusedMarla really couldn't offer any sort of insight into how she wasn't useless, because, well, asking so would have just prompted her into a large, psychological rant about how much her life sucked and, yet, horrifyingly enough, she wasn't dead yet, yet another question was left blank, only this time she idled with her time by tearing off strips of the parchment. Was she done? Fuck, one more thing.

6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you.

A bribe? A fucking bribe? Were they shitting her? "There's always a fuck," she commented with a smirk and a wink, only, God, she really hadn't seen anybody here - watch them all be fat and ridiculously elderly. "Nothing wrinkly or over two-fifty, thanks."

What did she even have? "Pack of smokes, which you're not getting," she muttered, more to herself than anything. "You can have the lighter, I suppose. It's over there." She waved a hand vaguely in the opposite direction she'd thrown the thing, uncrossing her legs and switching knees before her thigh went completely numb. "There's short little midgets with huge fucking ears walking around here too," she added thoughtfully. "Maybe I can start dealing in those. You never know."




I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Multiple SclerosisMS
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them.they can shove themselves up their asses, anal lubricants aside. MS
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. Hah. I don't wear any knickers. Their loss. MS.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. In all its fruit reserving glory, I'm sure. Smuckers will be fucking thrilled. MS.

Comments

[sidney-reilly.livejournal.com]

Wouldn't dream of asking for the pack, but I wouldn't mind a coffin nail and a light for a bribe. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Miss?

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

With a heavy-hearted sigh that made it seem that she was giving up her left arm rather than a cigarette, Marla held up the pack, one white cylinder poking neatly out the top. "I'm fresh out of matches and fire in general - you'll have to help yourself with that light," she commented with a wrinkled nose. "Sorry. And yet, not."

As for her mother. "Well, I should hope I don't kiss her with this," she added with a bit of incredulity to her voice. "How much collagen she's had pumped into those things, I imagine it would be like kissing a sausage." She tilted her head a bit, contemplatively. "Not the nice kind either. Those shitty ones you get in the twelve pack at the convenience store."

[waste-lock.livejournal.com]

"Hot Topic wannabes? Well, if the PVC granny boot fits..."

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

"Then you more than likely have far too many buckles, and I suspect you'll be tripping over a gutter within the hour," she finished his sentence with a bit of a smirk, plucking a random, invisible piece of lint off her coat. "It's far cheaper to just lift them out of your friendly, neighborhood Sal's Boutique."

[lady-thujone.livejournal.com]

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

Marla let out a weird sort of scoffing laugh, sounding bemused. "Would I? What've you got?"

[sgtbothari.livejournal.com]

Bothari read over the application, and then did something so out of character that, was anyone around who actually knew him well, they'd be edging him back toward the door. What he did was smile beatifically.
Of course, the smile didn't reach his eyes, which were fixed on Marla with an intense hunger.

"You remind me of Elena," he breathed reverently.

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

Any other person, of course, would probably have been doing that said backing towards the door right about now. Marla, however, managed to only look bored. But then, she'd fucked Tyler Durden on many an occasion. If she could handle him, she could handle most of anything. "Elena?" she remarked, finger touched to her chin. "Begging the question, not that I care, is that a good or a bad thing?"

[aquilus-albel.livejournal.com]

*Albel raises an eyebrow amusedly.* Repeated profanity is the sign of an underused imagination. *Oh, yeah. Says the man who addresses every other person he meets as either "maggot," "worm," or "fool."*

*He waves his good hand in front of his face.* And I'll thank you not to smoke that around me, worm. *Albel has a tendency to start choking in front of a roaring fire - quite a drawback when you've got one arm that spends a lot of time in smithies.*

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

Worm? Marla only smirked, blowing out an extra enthusiastic cloud of smoke directly into Albel's face and leaning back onto a hand. "Oh, so incredibly sorry, you said to... NOT smoke that around you, right?" Not that she looked phased or anything. "Profanity, at any rate, that's the open door to just pissing off a fuckload of people. And some..." She paused, glancing over his hair with a cocked eyebrow. "Girl? Man? Transvestite? Isn't going to be much in the way of convincing."

[tourettesbunny.livejournal.com]

There was only one thing in this castle that was as entertaining as pissing off Santa, and that was hanging around the Sorting Room. Some real freaks passed through here, and they were typically quite interesting to talk to. ('Talk to', in this case, being the Easter Bunny unleashing a torrent of profanity on the poor person.) But this woman... hello. The Easter Bunny always did love a woman that talked like not just one sailor, but about forty of them.

Thankfully it didn't take much effort to get up on top of the table - he hated looking up at people - and the Easter Bunny sat on his haunches, drawing out the cigar that he kept behind his ear, and the lighter that Marla had discarded for being broken. "You know," he remarked, tapping the lighter with a paw (being a magic bunny comes in handy, when fixing things) using it to light his cigar, "You're more interesting than a triangle tent full of dildo-wielding midgets that are also on - fuck - ecstasy." Tourettes strikes again, with a violent twitch of his ears. "And I've seen that, so that's saying something."

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

Hey, what do you know. A talking bunny. With Tourettes.

Marla just sort of fixed the Easter Bunny with a deadened stare, watching him - him? It? - retrieve the cigar with something resembling interest in her eyes. As much interest as Marla could offer someone, at any rate. "Why, thank you," she remarked instead, because if there was any comment she could ever get from someone, one about dildo-armed midgets on drugs was quite possibly the greatest one possible.

"So you're a rabbit," she added dryly, taking a drag off her own cigarette and entertaining herself for a few short seconds by attempting to blow a smoke ring into the air. With a brief quirk of her eyebrows - and, okay, maybe she was a little impressed. Even a bottle of Xanax couldn't make up THIS kind of shit - she pointed her cigarette in his general vicinity. "Suppose you kinda speak for yourself, huh?"

[pompous-wombat.livejournal.com]

...*Chase just didn't know what to say* Smoking can kill you. If you keep at it, sooner or later you're going to develop cancer.

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

Marla feigned some sort of shocked expression, eyes wide and eyebrows heightened. "They can... can kill me? Oh, fucking imagine, I didn't even fathom!" she replied sarcastically, before taking another spiteful drag on the cigarette and blowing smoke in his general direction. "Oops. Guess you've got the cancer too. Damn. We can be lung buddies, though, what do you say?"

[wh0-kill3d-m3.livejournal.com]

"Oh, I am so tempted to call your bluff on that bribe, just to see what you'd say," Laura said with a grin.

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

"The lighter, the midgets or the sex?" Marla automatically prompted back, giving a wicked sort of smirk on her own as she idly fingered her cigarette pack, debating a new smoke. "Because I'm pretty fuckin' serious about'm all."

[torn-krimson.livejournal.com]

You're new to the whole "subtle" thing, aren't you?

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

"And you're new to the whole... 'human' thing, aren't you?" she parried right back, cocking an eyebrow. "You look like a fucking critter out of my basement." Not that she had a basement, naturally.

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

Camilla has one question.

"What's Hot Topic?"

No, she really doesn't know.

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

Marla smirked a bit, flicking some ashes onto the ground beside the table. "You don't know? Consider yourself lucky. A bunch of various whiny teens in black clothes, paying lots of money buying the same clothes to... somehow be different." She raised her eyebrows. "Neat, huh?"

[rogue-nebari.livejournal.com]

Chiana grins. Abrasive, foul-mouthed, opinionated, and apparently promiscuous? Drad. Plus, she has great hair. "Don't suppose your taste in sex partners runs to female Nebari, huh?"

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

Motherfucking pale. Christ, look at that girl. Marla cocked an eyebrow at Chiana, glancing her up and down contemplatively. The fuck was a Nebari? Oh well. "Depends," she finally decided on, snubbing out her cigarette on the table and flickering her wide eyes back. "Nebari good in bed?"

[tako-time.livejournal.com]

"Oh!" Tako said, hopping into the Sorting Room. "Another cheese fancier. How wonderful!"

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

It was a talking octopus. In a bucket. Shit, if she'd taken something, that was some really good stuff. "Cheese isn't really my thing," she added dully, wrinkling her nose. "Clogs the shit out of your arteries. Read it in some magazine."

[getoffmydesk.livejournal.com]

Provenza read through the application, set the sheet of parchment down, and gave Marla a sad, completely over-the-top puppy dog face. "Aww," he said in a condescending tone. "I suppose I'm out of the running for your bribe, then." Dropping his voice, he muttered to himself, "But I guess a girl like you spends enough time going up and down on the merry-go-round as it is."

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

"Suppose you would be," she replied just as patronizingly. "Although if you still want that lighter, with that puppy face I bet you're real good at fetching." Not, of course, like she didn't hear the mutter, but she was perfectly used to slander in her general direction. Although the word typically used was 'bitch'. "Bucko, I own the motherfucking merry-go-round," she added triumphantly, taking a long drag off her cigarette and spewing smoke up into the air.

[ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com]

So what exactly is it that you do?

[jacks-tumor.livejournal.com]

A talking hat. Huh. She raised an questioning eyebrow, nonetheless, towards its question. The hell was that supposed to mean? "Gotta be a little more specific there," she replied pointedly, tapping cigarette ash onto the floor. "You mean a job or... which people? Come on, work with me, talking hat."

Slytherin

[ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com]

I look forward to the wild sexings!

Your bribe has been accepted.

Welcome to Slytherin!