Authors Note: This is just a silly little story about Starfire snagging a job as an advice columnist. All the characters will ask for her advice. It's my first one. Sorta. I deleted the first one. As I will probably say in every fic, "If you enjoy this, there are some nice men in white who want to be your friend! And you can have sleepovers! Won't that be fun!"

Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans, thanks for reminding me. I really want to , you know, and you have to go remind me that I dont. HMPH!


A tall, slim redhead bounded into the building. The building had the sign " The Daily Plaid Lightbulb" written in the color-you guessed it-plaid. Saving up for a dress for Silkie costed bucks, and being a superhero wasn't exactly the best paying job on Earth!(And it wasn't the best paying job on Tamaran either.) So when Starfire saw that red frilly thing with the lacy and silky bonnet, just Silkie's size, the alien princess had to search for a job. She had looked everywhere. Perhaps she would do well as a "journalist"? Robin had suggested it.

Starfire searched the room, walked up to the front desk, and asked, "Who can I see about the HELP WANTED sign in the window?"

A pudgy old man glanced up at her.

"Me. If you are hired, I shall be your boss."

"Oh, hello, friendly potential boss! I would like to be a journalist please!"

"Okay, do you have a resume?"

"Nooo-ooo...But...I am very good and would like an interview!"

The man's eyebrows knit together. No resume? Who the heck was this girl? And who did she think she was?

Starfire continued smiling at the man. "Could I have one, please? It would be very pleasing for me. I'm a cold candidate!"

"Cold candidate?" Starfire didn't think it was possible to have your eyebrows practically touch, but his were.

"Cold! You know, awesome, in, good?" Starfire exclaimed, slightly confused at why this man didn't understand Earth slang.

"Oh! Are you foreign or something?"

"Yes, Mr..."

"Mr. Eimdaboss"

Mr. Eimdaboss, being a blond American, was wondering how the heck this foreign girl who spoke strangely could ever write well in English. Suddenly, his phone rang. He uncertainly glanced at it, finally deciding to answer it.

A nasal-sounding voice of a toddler filled the room. "Papa, when are you coming? You promised you'd be there for my sho-oo-oow!"

The blond, short, man's thin bored face became melancholy.

"I'm sorry, Josephine, I have work right now! I really tried, honest!"

"You PROMISED! I hate you! Waah!" The girl over the phone burst into tears and the line went dead,

John Eimdaboss sighed and tucked his cell into his pocket.

Kori Ander's head was tilted in sympathy.

"Oh, I feel so bad for both of the you. You should talk to your boss and try to get out of work sometimes. You deserve a break. If not, don't make "infection" promises to your daughter. Don't-"

"You mean, 'rash' promises?"

"Yes. Don't get her hopes up. And if you can't come, at least get a videotape of it. Ask the teacher to videotape the show."

Eyes squinted in thought, John Eimdaboss stared at her. He wondered if maybe the idea forming in his brain would succeed. The Daily Plaid Lightbulb needed an advice columnist.

"You know, that's not a bad idea."

Kori Anders smiled graciously, squealing, " You're going to take my advice? I hope it works! Really! No one wants to see a crying toddler and a miserable man! I'm so happy I could help! But...Could we get to the interview please?"

A grin graced Mr. Eimdaboss's lips for the first time in years. This girl was crazy and enthusiastic. Just right for the job.

"Of course."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------The Interview---------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, your name is Kori. You love to dance and sing, and help others. You live with four roomates, who often argue, but never with you."

"I wouldn't say never, bec-"

"And, according to you, you help out a lot of strangers and constantly stop trouble."

Star chuckled. That was the most normal description she could give of being a superhero constantly stopping villainy and saving civillians.

"Yes, sir." She confirmed with a little bit of pride.

"And...you want this job to buy a dress for your dog?"

"Dog?" The confused alien asked. "Oh, yes, dog! Yes, I desire to purchase a silky dress for Silkie."

"Okay, Kori. I regret to inform you" Mr. Eimdaboss started to inform regretfully.

Kori's head hung. "Say no more." She muttered sadly, and whirled to stalk out the door.

John grabbed her arm.

"That you cannot be a regular journalist. Instead, you will be doing the job of the advice column journalist."

"Woo of the hoo!" Starfire exclaimed.

John Eimdaboss rolled his eyes at the odd way she talked. It would require some getting used to.

"So ya except?" The question sounded annoyed.

"I accept! When can I start the advice journal column?"


A/N: I know, it's short, badly written, and is cluttered with unneccesary crap. Can't say I didn't warn you. And if you say it anyway, I'll give away your location to the friends I mentioned. You know, the ones who want to have sleepovers with you? And always dress in white? Don't read it, but if you do, review. I don't care if they are flames, just as long as the flames explain to me what's wrong with my story. (Like I already don't know.)