Feel Free to Ignore This. It's Not About Any of You.

< rant >

Why do people look at me like I just crawled out of a bloody council estate?

I assure you, ladies and gents, that I can hold my own in polite society if the need arises. I know my forks and I know my manners, and I can curtsey like a mofo. Thanks.

I can speak posh, if you'd like. I can roll my R's and stick my nose in the air as well as you can. I can behave myself if I want to. I can have my people ring your people, and we can do high tea in the East Garden.

My daddy can buy and sell your daddy. And your daddy's daddy. And your mum as well. Of course, anyone can buy your mum for a fiver and a packet Benson & Hedges.

Stop looking at me like I'm gutter trash.

< /rant >

Hrm.

Just a quick poll about City of London. I can't decide how I want to develop Dom, and maybe you can help.

[Poll #580923]

City of London, Part 13.

Title: City of London
Author: limeysugar.
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Elijah Wood
Rating: PG-13 for language and innuendo.
Disclaimer: Not true. Fiction.
Author's Notes I: SQUICK ALERT! In the UK, the age of consent is 16. This story takes place in the last year of school for the boys (who in the series are the same age.), which makes them 17, almost 18. I am well aware that some people will not read anything wherein the characters are under the age of 18, hence the warning. There will be no descriptive sex, just angst, innuendo, and salty language. If this bothers you, don't read it. Simple as that.
Author's Notes II: Heavily inspired by the recent AU school fics by marrymemerry and deleerium, and by the film Get Real. If you haven't seen it, do.

Read the first twelve parts.

( Part Thirteen. )