Hey guys, I've finally caved and written some of this down... I just can't help thinking up new ideas for stories! I promise my others are not abandoned, just... postponed. ^_^ I'm going on Spring Break tomorrow, so I'm afraid that there will probably be no more updates/replies for at least a week, if not more. :blush:

Right, so this will probably be PG-13 for language, and most def some R for strict language and some sexuality. Ummm... I do not own any of the Lads (*pouts*), but all the other characters/situations are completely my brainchild. Thanks to LacedNBlue for being one of my betas, and for allowing me to manipulate her into being in this. Thanks also go out to Sammi for being my other beta. Hugs to you both! :hug:

So here goes! Any and all criticisms are welcome! ^_^



Chapter One



The shrill sound of the alarm breaks through the warm darkness enveloping my mind, and I feel like shrieking. I had only gotten about an hour and a half of sleep, thanks to my brother, Dominic. This is a long story, but kinda funny, so I’ll tell it anyway.



So I had gone out to a hookah bar with some of my friends, and we got in at about two am. Well, my best friend/cuddle buddy and I sat up for a while, then decided to watch a movie. Let me tell you something. It is a big mistake to let your male best friend pick out a movie to watch at two in the morning, right after coming home from a long night of hookah and booze. So he put in Alice in Wonderland (I had put it in the wrong box the last time I had watched it with him. We were totally wasted of course. You can’t watch that movie not be high), walked back to the couch before plopping down beside me. I quickly cuddled up to him, and then the menu pops up. Being too lazy to walk all the way over to the DVD player, he simply pressed PLAY and we end up watching a drug trip movie. It’s not quite as fun when all you’ve got going through your system is the after-effects of a long night of hookah, but we were totally beat, and this was the best we could do.



The movie finally finished, and I had begun dozing, completely sprawled all across Jake's (or Cupcake to me, but I’m the only one allowed to call him that) lap. He gently lifted me off him and placed a pillow under my head. Smoothing my hair back and giving me a kiss on the forehead, he whispered “I’m gonna head home, darlin’.” Grinning at my hopeless attempts to sit up and give him a hug, he squeezed my hand. “I’ll see you at work?” All I could do was nod, and he smiled. He quietly let himself out the back door, locking it from the outside. He was always able to recover amazingly fast from getting plastered. If he had taken and blood-alcohol-level test, it would register near zero after only about two hours. Lucky bastard. Oh well. Within seconds, I was asleep, the screensaver on the screen still casting blue light all over the room.



I awoke to the noise of someone trying desperately hard to keep the door from opening without making a sound. As this someone tiptoed inside, I screwed my eyes shut, praying for them to go away so that I could sleep. This unknown entity comes over to the couch, turns on the reading light on the table beside it, freezes, turns the light of (much to my relief), and goes back to the door.



“You guys gotta leave! That’s my mom in there! She must have waited up for me.” a voice whispered, one which I finally recognized as Dom’s. I pushed my hair off my face, groaning in exasperation. I could hear some scared giggles coming from outside the door, and then I heard Dom come back to where I was trying to sleep. I felt his hands wrap around my shoulders, and then he shook me. Hard.



That dirty bastard.



“Argh!” I yelled, pushing him away.



“Who is this?” he asked, and then I remembered his pitiful night-vision.



“It’s your sister, you moron!” I yelled.



He let out a relieved laugh, almost a bark, and gave me a bone-crushing hug and kissing my forehead. “Oh my god,” he said, giggling slightly. “I thought you were mom.” Standing up and turning back on the light, he walked over to the door, poked his head out and hissed, “No, guys, wait! Totally kidding, that’s not my mom! We’re good.” They came trooping in, a crowd of stupid, drunk college kids.



Don’t get me wrong, I love my little brother, but sometimes, he can be a right pain in the ass. Maybe it’s just that I was the accident in my parent’s relationship. They had been high school sweethearts, and their first time, they didn’t use a condom. Nine months later, I come into the world, and they get married. Then they spend all their time working as hard as possible to try to make ends meet. Basically, I was my own parent. They were never home. Not that I blame them, of course. My mother had to support my father as he went through college, then he had to support her and the baby as she followed in his footsteps. Finally, they get their dream jobs, their dream house, their dream cars. Then they wanted their dream child. There’s a nine-year difference between Dominic and myself, and I suppose I’ve become like a second (albeit cooler) mother to him.



So Dom and his totally plastered friends came in, and started to try to play ping-pong. Now, Dom has enough trouble playing that game sober, and he’s absolutely hopeless at it when he’s drunk. Finally, I lost my patience with my dear eighteen-year-old brother.



“Will you guys shut up!?” I screeched, my voice sounding obnoxiously high and grating to my recovering senses.



A dead silence blanketed the room, as Dom and his friends stared at me like I was crazy. I glared at him, and he sat down on the other end of the couch, looking like a chastised puppy.



“If you guys won’t go to sleep, and I know that you’re on spring break, please watch a movie or something. Some of us need to get up to go to work tomorrow.”



At my suggestion, they fall to the floor and put in a movie. Of course, Dom picks Fight Club. A typical male, to the core. Now, normally, I love Fight Club, but not when I’m starting to suffer from a hangover. The whole movie went by in a blur, and finally, when it was over, I could see the sky beginning to turn pink through the window. I sighed and pulled the covers over my aching head, and tried to go to sleep.



And now I’m being pulled from my slumber by that obnoxious noise. I wish I had enough energy to fling something at it, but I don’t. I wonder if Jake set it for me. He’s so adorable. I would totally date him, but it's never going to happen.



I'm a lesbian.



Tell me what y'all think! :yes:

WHA?!?!?!??!?!!?!! :blink: :eek: Whoa was that ending a shock. I didn't see that one coming, Fi. Brilliant job and look, I am the first replier! WOOT! :woot: Ok, anyway, are you gonna have a cast call for this? Because I so tottaly want to be apart of this, but maybe I would be straight. Sorry, I just can't see myself as a lesbian. Anyways, great start, I can't wait to read more.
:love:
~Kit-Kat~

I dunno... I might. I'm trying to keep it down (the character numbers [it's impossible to write a convincing story if you have a gazillion people in it]), but if y'all don't mind being inked and stuff, I guess. I'm not that far ahead in my thinking yet. ;-)

This is really good story concept Feebs, I love it!!!!!! Can't wait to see more :)

Katie

P.S. I'm doing your casting call thing, if you can't fit me in, then that's cool :)

Right, so before I dash off to the beach, I figured I'd give my lovely ladies another chapter. ^_^ Just as a general side note, people's ages are rather flexible at this time, and we will now pretend that only Elijah was in LOTR. I know, I know, Orlando is sexy as an elf, but I'm afraid we'll just have to do without. :cry: lol

Chapter Two

I slam my hands into the steering wheel, feeling like I’m going to scream. Why the hell are there no parking spaces on a Saturday morning? It’s only eight thirty! Who the hell is in DC at eight thirty in the morning on Saturday? Especially this part. Finally, I spot a parking spot, and I thank whatever god is up there that I have a tiny car. Somehow managing to squeeze my Mini Cooper into the space, I jump out and practically sprint the three and a half blocks to work. I push the door open and rip off my coat, getting out a breathless “I’ll be right with you,” to the people already sitting on the benches inside the brightly-lit shop.

Jake’s in the back, sterilizing the equipment before he begins inking people, and I wonder just how the hell he can get here so much earlier than me. It takes a while to set that shit up, and he’s almost finished. He looks up, grins, and comes over to give me a hug.

“Well, good morning Sleeping Beauty!” he cries, his grin getting even wider at the pout I give him.

“You know that little shit kept me up until seven o’clock?” I ask him, tying my thick sandy hair back with an elastic before going over to find the hand sanitizer.

He laughs, tying back his own long locks. “Dom?”

I just roll my eyes, and he punches my shoulder. “C’mon, you know you love him!” he says, ducking my own attempts to hit him back.

“Remember how I want to kill you in the face?” I ask, making demonstrative gestures, just in case he didn’t understand my English. “Kill you in the face. In. The. Face. You freak. FUH-REAK!”

He just laughs, and I roll my eyes before turning back to the new kid sitting on the bench in the front, waving at the regulars, who were already showing off their designs, looking through the portfolios of our staff, and discussion the pros and cons of various piercings.

“Hi! My name is Morgan. Tattoo or piercing?”

He grins unsteadily, obviously nervous. “Tattoo.”

I smile. “That’s Jake’s department. I do piercings. Unfortunately, Jake’s the only tattooist we have here this morning. Have you looked through his portfolio? You can schedule an appointment if you like one of the other artists style better.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I’ve seen it. It’s good.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Have you got your design all planned out?”

He nods unsteadily.

I smile even wider, trying to make him more at ease. “Your first time?”

He nods again, this time smiling weakly back.

I sit down on the bench beside him, and tuck my leg under myself so that I’m facing him. “Okay, I know that you’ve probably heard that tattoos hurt a lot. Well, they do. But the amount of pain you feel is all dependant on the size, location, and coloring of your tattoo. Where are you planning on getting it?”

He motions to his bicep, looking at me with wide eyes.

“Can I see your design?”

He hands over a piece of computer paper with a rough outline of a star, shamrock, and heart, with a (pretty crappy, but this is only a sketch) banner on the bottom with a woman’s name in it.

I look up at him and raise an eyebrow. “This isn’t your girlfriend, is it?” I ask, motioning to the paper. “Because if it is, you’re going to regret it.”

He shakes his head. “That’s my mom.” He looks down at the paper again. “She died last week. I had already planned this before it happened, but now I’m thinking about adding the dates below the name.” He bit his lip, and I suddenly felt incredibly sorry for him. I knew how that felt. One of my incredibly close friend in high school was shot and killed in a drive-by gang fight, and he wasn’t even involved. That shattered my world. That was when I had first begun researching tattoos and piercings, because I wanted to get inked in his memory. Now I have a beautiful tat that reminds me of him every time I look at it.

“It’s beautiful. And you know, I think that getting a tattoo in memory of someone is the best reason to get inked.” I pull up my sleeve and show him my own memorial tattoo, and he visibly relaxes. I don’t know what it is about it, but every time I show it to people, they suddenly become more at ease around me. Maybe it’s the copious amount of metal I have in my face, but still. Having to endure something like that seems to make me more… well… of a person in people’s eyes. Which is weird if you ask me, but there you are. I’m used to people getting weird around me when they first see me.

Jake poked his head around the door, “Send the first victim in, O Minion of Darkness.”

I flick him off, and turn back to the kid in front of me. “Before I send you in to get your design re-drawn, and stenciled, etcetera, I need you to sign these forms for me, stating that you are, in fact, eighteen, that it is your fault if your arm falls off because you didn’t follow the after-care instructions,” He shoots me a look of pure terror, and I laugh. “Sorry, your arm’s really not going to fall off, I promise. Just, sign them so that I can move on to the other people waiting in line behind you."

He swallows, checks all the right boxes, shows me his ID, signs an unintelligible scrawl along the line, and heads off into the back room.

I sigh and turn around, only to find Alexandria, Jake’s girlfriend, watching me from across the room.

I grin and wave at her. She winks and holds up a bag in her hands. As she makes her way over towards me, she pulls out the most beautiful sight I’ve seen all day: a bag of Colombian coffee beans.

“Oh my god.” I say, bending down to bow before her. “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

She grins. “Only about a million times a day.” she replies, giving me a hug as she hands over the booty. “Jake told me about your late night yesterday, and I figured you’d need a pick-me-up.”

I grin at her, silently thanking whatever god is up there that my best friend’s girlfriend is so cool with me being so chummy with her beau. I guess she assumes I’m no competition because I like to kiss girls. She’s right. I love Jake, but thinking about us like that is just weird.

Suddenly, the phone behind the counter rings, and I give her a quick kiss-pat (when you kiss the tips of your fingers and pat the other person on the head; it’s a less personal version of the regular kiss) and race around to pick it up, opening our appointment book as I go.

“Artistic Armor Tattoo and Piercing, this is Morgan, how may I help you?” I ask, clicking the back of the pen incessantly. I can’t help it, it’s just something that I’ve always done.

“Hi, this is Suzy from the Sperm Bank of the District of Columbia, I have some good news for you, Ms. LaFey.”

I grab the edge of the counter, barely daring to breathe. “Yes?” I manage to peep out. Alex gives me a weird look, but I ignore her, deeming this matter more important than my best friend’s girlfriend.

“We have the results back from your pregnancy test, and congratulations! You’re going to have a baby!” My mind goes blank. What? Then my slow mind finally manages to digest what Suzy had said, and the phone drops from my nerveless fingers. Alex looks at me, suddenly a lot more concerned than she was earlier, and then I scream.

Loudly.

For a long time.

I had no idea I could scream this much.

Since when did I have this much lung power?

It’s amazing.

“Oh my god! I’m going to have a baby!” I screech, turning to look at Alex’s stunned face.

“Oh my god!” she echoes, then jumps over the phone on the floor and envelops me in a bone-crushing hug. Now, let me tell you something. Alexandria Jordan Bridges is a rather imposing woman. No, that sounded wrong. She’s amazingly beautiful. It’s really depressing. She had this amazing straight chestnut hair and these adorable dimples when she smiles. And she’s always smiling.

She holds me out at arm’s length and looks down at me with big green eyes. Then she squeals and pulls me back into a hug. “I’m so happy for you!” she cries, then pushes me away from her. “You’ve got to go tell Jake!”

I nod, still grinning like an idiot, and race down the mini-hall to one of the tattoo rooms. Flinging open the door, I see Jake pulling off the stencil on the kid’s arm. He looks up, surprised to see me there, and reaches over to turn down the music. He had obviously not heard the commotion at the front desk. I shook my head. Jake always liked to work with music blaring. He said it lessened the distracting noises from outside. He was, however, completely able to ignore the loud screaming and crashing drums. Weirdo.

“I’m pregnant!” I cry, and he drops the pen in his hand.

“What?” he asks, his brown eyes incredulous.

“I’m going to have a baby!”

He makes his way around the dentist chair, and envelops me in a bear hug, picking me off the ground and spinning me around. “Oh my god!” he whispers, then continues in a louder tone. “I’m so happy for you!” He puts me down and grins hugely. “Finally worked then, eh?” he asked, winking.

I give him the patented ‘Why are so you stupid?’ look. “No duh! Why are you so stupid?” I reply, the answering grin and wink coming naturally.

“Because your beauty astounds me, O Glorious Aphrodite.” He pretends to sweep one of those hue hats with the feathers on them off his head as he bows. It’s a long story. Well, not really that long… So, to make a short story even shorter, Jake and I have been friends forever. I’m not joking. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know him. Well, before I realized that I liked to do it with girls instead of boys like my other class-mates, Jake and I were watching an old swashbuckler movie, and I commented that when I fell in love with a man, I wanted him to have on of those floppy hats. Then when we met, he would sweep the hat of his head and bow to me, before kissing my hand and whisking me away into the sunset. Since I like girls, I’ve now abandoned this fantasy (much to my disappointment) because I think it would be a little ludicrous to have a girl swish an oversized hat off her head and whisk me off into the sunset. So, he does it whenever he gets the chance, simply to rub it in. Idiot.

“Better not let Alex hear that, asshat.”

He affects a look of shock at my ‘crude’ language. I shake my head and walk out of the room, convinced that I head Alex call my name. I was correct.

“Yes?” I ask, walking up to the counter and noticing the sudden depletion of customers. I wave my hand in the general area where they were earlier, and she smiles.

“I had them make appointments to come back later. Figured you’d be a little too… preoccupied… to shove metal through their flesh.” She grins wickedly at my exasperated face.

“Thank you, Shakespeare, for your poetic depiction of my job.”

Her grin widens as she bows in front of me, pretending to sweep the proverbial fluffy hat off her head, a wicked glint in her eyes.

“What is wrong with you people?” I ask, throwing my hands up in the air.

She giggles, her dimples getting even more pronounced. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself. Jake told me about it, and I figured you wouldn’t get it any other way.” She gives my the innocent puppy dog face, and I roll my eyes.

“Fine. Whatever. But just know, I’ll get you back for this one day.” I shake my finger at her, and she dismisses my threat with a wave of her hand.

“Well, you got a call from some acting agency/movie company thing.” She said, grabbing a slip of paper off the table and handing it to me. “I didn’t really catch the name, but they want you to… I dunno… train one of their actors? Whatever. Something like that.” She shrugged. “They want you to call them back.”

I look at the little slip of paper (it looks like the bottom half of a dry cleaning receipt), and read the number scribbled there in Alex’s bad handwriting: 1 800 734 9273. I frown. I’d never seen that number before. I shrug and pick up the phone. “Can you make appointments for me babe? I don’t know how long this will take.”

She nods, and perches her tiny little bottom on the stool behind the counter. Alexandria is such a sweetheart. Whenever she has the day/morning off from her job at the hospital, she comes in and helps out. She also has a habit of scaring some of my newer customers with her graphic depictions of what she’s seen pertaining to not taking care of piercings, or how badly you can damage your face if you’re in a car accident and your piercings (ironically) pierce the airbag. You can get some pretty nasty burns that way. Pretty gross.

Thankfully, my favorite chair is empty, and I curl up in its plush depths and look at the number again. Punching it into the cordless, I frown as I hear the automated voice pick up almost immediately.

“You’ve reached Time Warner, if you would like to leave a message, please press one. If you would--” I press one. “Please leave a message after the tone.” A beep. I roll my eyes. I hate messages. “Hi, this is Morgan LaFey, I was informed that you called my studio, Artistic Armor, and something about a movie? The message wasn’t very clear. Anyways, my number is 202 374 86--” Someone picks up.

“Hello?” they ask, almost as if they hadn’t interrupted me in the middle of leaving a phone message.

I start again. “Hi, this is Morgan LaFey, I was informed that you called my studio, Artistic Armor--”

“Yes, I know who you are, I heard the message.”

An awkward silence. “Well, what do you want?”

“Miss LaFey, we have a proposition for you.” The man on the other end of the line pauses, then continues, sounding almost pissed that I didn’t automatically respond with enthusiasm. “We have a new movie in consideration, and we were wondering if you would like to train one of out actors in your professional field.”

“How much would I get paid?” I ask, rolling my eyes. It’s bad enough when I have to do apprenticages, but having to train some stupid hung-up-upon-themselves actor who didn’t even care about my career was something else.

“Well, that really depends entirely on how much the movie grosses for, but a rough estimate would be somewhere around $500,000, probably more.”

My eyes widen. $500,000? That would buy me a relatively nice house in the suburbs. Or an amazing car. Or let me expand the studio. This was starting to sound a whole lot better.

“There are a few conditions, of course.” I should have known about something like this. I quell my hopes for a second, and allow the man to continue. “We are trying to get our actors as much into the ‘alternative’ lifestyle as possible,” Ew. I hate it when people say ‘alternative’ like that; like it’s some sort of curse word. “and we would insist upon our actors staying with the people they would be training with. We are more than happy to compensate for any extra costs that would entail.”

I make a face. I don’t know if I want some famous actor living with me. As soon as people find out I’m a lesbian with two tongue rings, all they ever talk about after that is sex, and how hot they think girl-on-girl porn scenes are. It’s almost as if my oral piercings suddenly make me a nymphomaniac. Let me tell you something: I haven’t gotten any in over a month. My girlfriend (well, ex-girlfriend) and I just broke up after three years, and now I’m pregnant with the child we decided to have together. Damn it, now I’m depressed. This has been a crazy day.

“--arrangement would only be temporary, as soon as shooting is over, the actor would move out, if that is your wish.” I could hear the sneer in his voice. I debated turning them down, just for that, but I’m a greedy little bitch, and the prospect of half a million dollars was just too much for my little mind.

“If I was to say yes, who would I be assigned?” I ask, twirling the pen around in my fingers.

“Elijah Wood.”

:heartbeat: First off GREAT CHAPPIE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Quote time,

Oh come on NO ONE could ever be that cheerful in the morning, *kicks Jake*

Damn that's rough...two tongue rings? YEOUCH! *shudders* No thank you lol.

LIJ!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love Lij :drool: Anyways *wipes drool off of keyboard* Can't wait to see more! I love it dahlin!!! :)

Katie

Hey great chapter and I can't wait for more! I hope you have fun at the beach and sorry such short reply but I've got to run! Cya Fiona!
:love:
~Kit-Kat~
PS- this is gonna kill me but is your real name fiona or morgan? Which is it or are those your fiction names and what is your real name? I am just curious, because I like to get to know people better.

Fiona. Sometimes I just get bored with having all of my character's names be Fiona, it kinda makes them lose parts of their personalities. Although, it does make it easier to distinguish them from the other characters! ^_^

Hey babe! :D *huggleZ* I'm so sorry I haven't been here the past week or two or three....*sniffles* I love the story! *grins* And I cannot wait until you post more...hehehehe :wub: U! And I'll try my hardest to post ASAP!

Fi this is fantastic!!!! I absolutely adore the way you write! It's so funny and holds so much emotion! I'm so sorry that I didn't read this sooner, and even more sorry that your on break! And sorrier still that this is a short reply, but know that I love it!

Chloe xxx

Awwww.... thanks girls! Hehehe, I'm just on for a few minutes before I go back to beach-time with no internet (*sob*), and you guys made my day! For all the girls who signed up on the Cast Call, I won't be able to do banners for y'all until at least Sunday night, most likely the beginning of the week.

Gotta dash!
:heartbeat:
-Feebs

Hey I have an idea for you too and I hate to be annoying, but I am impatient sometimes sooo...

UPDATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*coughs* I mean I would like to see another chapter soon Feebs or I will be forced to use my weapon of mass destruction...by the name of Lijah Wood as he is my slave and will do anything I tell him to do...

So you have no choice...okay you do lol. But please update soon, I wanna see moreeeeeeee!

Katie

P.S. Yeah I'm a tad bit hyper ;)

Oh fine, this one's for Katie. I'm an insomniac anyways, might as well give me something to do at 1.30 in the morning. ^_^

Chapter Three

“Dude, I’ve told you! I can’t come to work today!” I explain as I shuffle around my kitchen, trying to pin the phone on my shoulder with the side of my face. “Because I’m having a guest today! I explained this last week!” I make a face at my co-worker, Hayden, even though he can’t see me.

“You’ve got to cover for me! I can’t make it, no matter what!” I pour the coffee into my favorite mug. “You broke up with your girlfriend? Well, sorry, but last time I checked, I still made it in to work when I broke up with mine. How long were you two together anyway? Six months? Try three years. Oh, did I mention that I’m pregnant with the baby we decided to have together?” I pour in some milk. “Look, I’m sorry that you two broke up, but moping around your apartment is not going to make the situation any better. You need to keep yourself busy. And besides, if you stay home, you’ll have no one to complain to! Just think of the number of people who you’ll be able to coerce into listening to your most treasured memories!”

The doorbell rings. I hate the doorbell. There’s a perfectly good brass knocker on the door, why don’t people ever use what’s in front of their noses? I walk over to the stupid thing and begin undoing the bolts. One can never be too careful in this city. Opening the door, I am greeted by a pair of big blue eyes which I immediately recognize. Great. I thought he was coming later. I didn’t have a chance to shower, and my hair probably looks like crap. Just what I needed; having him show up now, on top of having to deal with whiny co-workers. “Look! You’re going in to work, and that’s that! I can’t cover for you today! Besides, you owe me from last time. And you’re actually scheduled for today!”

He finally agrees, and I roll my eyes. “Good, now go!”

Turning back to my (slightly uneasy) guest, I smile and hold out my hand.

“I’m Morgan LaFay.” I say, and he takes me hand in his. He has a surprisingly firm handshake. Good.

“Elijah Wood.”

I smile. “I know.” I turn back to the kitchen. “You want some coffee?”

He looks relieved. “Yes please.” He drags his duffle bag into my hall and closes the door. “Who were you tearing a strip off of?”

I grin as I hand him a steaming mug of fresh, black joe. “One of my co-workers, Hayden Christensen. He’s a relatively new addition to our ‘team’, and he’s being a whiny little bitch because his whoreish girlfriend dumped him. He’s better off without her, seeing as she was cheating on him. Sugar?” I offer the little ceramic bowl.

“Thanks,” he says, and spoons a little into his cup before blowing across the top. “Hot.” he says, motioning to the drink in his hand.

“There’s a reason why it’s called hot coffee, instead of, say, tepid coffee, or luke-warm coffee.” He grimaces at me, and I grin. I was kinda worried about his reaction to my… interesting adornments, but he seems totally unfazed by it. It’s nice to have a ‘normal’ person not freak out about what you chose to do to your own body. I get enough weird looks on the Metro. I start to feel a whole lot better about this arrangement. Maybe being greedy and not being able to pass up half a million smackrels isn’t such a bad thing.

“How did you know she was cheating on him?” he asked, taking a sip.

“She was cheating with my girlfriend.” I shrug and hop off the counter, upon which I had been sitting during our little chat. I set my drink down on the table and pick up his bag, testing the weight. Substantial, but not as heavy as I had expected. I lead the way down the corridor and up the stairs to the spare bedroom.

“Whoa. Wait. You said ‘my girlfriend’?” he asks, coming up behind me. “And I could have taken that, you know.” he adds, motioning to his bag.

“I know. And yes, I did say ‘my girlfriend’.” I edge around him and point down the hall. “The room at the end is my room, the first door on the left is the guest bathroom, I get my own, and the door opposite your own is the library. Downstairs are the kitchen/dining room and living room, both of which you’ve already seen, and the den and the laundry room, which are at the other end of the hall.” I start my descent downstairs.

“So you’re a lesbian then.” he asks, following.

“Not particularly.” I frown, trying to figure out a way to describe this. “I just happen to fall in love with women. I’m sure if the right man came along, he’d be able to sweep me off my feet. It just hasn’t happened yet.” I shrug and make my way into the kitchen. “You hungry?”

“A little, I guess.”

I toss him an apple, which he deftly catches. “Sorry, I haven’t gone shopping yet.” I grin, and then suddenly think of what the CEO person said. “Oh, by the way, I’m planning on billing your company for some of my housing costs. This thing wasn’t cheap, considering how little I actually make a year.”

He looks around, noticing all my (framed) music posters, and dead animal collection. What can I say? I dated an embalmer for those rich little ladies who wanted to remember their little Princess after she got run over by that trash truck. My ex didn’t pass the test to embalm actual human beings, so she got sent to the veterinary ward. Boy did she hate her job. I also dated a girl whose brother was a butcher, so I have a few cow skulls and stuff like that. It makes for an interesting décor.

“I’m sure they won’t miss it,” he says, turning around. He munches on his apple for a few minutes in silence.

“Have you ever been to DC before?” I ask.

He grins. “Once, before I became really famous. Some friends of mine were attending George Washington University, and I went to visit them. We were totally out of cash, so we all decided to go to a sperm bank. That was the easiest grand I’ve ever made.”

I roll my eyes. “So you’ve never been to any museums or anything?”

He shook his head.

“Well, they’re showcasing DADA at the Smithsonian, is it the Smithsonian? Maybe it’s the National Gallery of Art. Whatever. That’s pretty interesting. Oooh! We should go to the Spy Museum!”

He gives me this look like I’m crazy.

“No, seriously! It’s a lot of fun. And you can wear big glasses so no one can see that you’re famous.” I shoot him my prize-winning coercion smile.

He grins and rolls his eyes. “Maybe later.”

I frown and stick my tongue out at him.

His eyes widen. “Dude, do you have two tongue rings?”

I nod, and stick my tongue out further so he can see them better.

“Did it hurt?”

I give him my ‘Why are you so stupid?’ look. “Yes. I have metal shoved through one of the most sensitive parts of my body. It hurt.”

He grins, totally unfazed by my rudeness. “That’s pretty sweet.”

I find myself grinning back. I just can’t help it. I had already made up my mind to not like him, and then he comes in and is all cheerful and nice. Damn him for not being obnoxious and bitchy like I had expected him to. Now Jake will me fun of me. Oh well.

“When do I start my training?” he asks, and I turn to look at him, expecting to see some sort of derision in his creepily large eyes. Nothing. He looks perfectly earnest.

“Monday.” I answer, heading back into the kitchen. “That gives you the weekend to adjust to the time difference and get into the ‘alternative’ lifestyle.” I grimace and put my cup in the dishwasher. “I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself at home.” I head up the stairs, and the last look I get of him is him looking through my CD collection. As I turn on the water, I hear Smashing Pumpkins' Bullet With Butterfly Wings start to blare through the house. Who knew we shared a musical interest? This kid was a lot different than I had imagined. And I kinda like it like that.

Tell me I'm the only one
Tell me there's no other one
Jesus was the only son, yeah.
Tell me I'm the chosen one
Jesus was the only son for you

Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
And I still believe that I cannot be saved
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage.

Sorry it's kinda short and a little disjointed, I haven't had a chance to edit it... this one's hot off the presses! :yes:

:heartbeat:
-Fi

LOL!! :laugh: Thank ya! *pats Lijah's butt* Not today sweetie...

Anyways I can't wait to see more, I likey a lot :)

Katie

That was a great chapter and I would've loved to see Elijah's face when she told him she dated girls and guys. I also like her crazy decor it's funny. alright, I've got to run and please update soon! It was really good Feebs. :yay:
:love:
~Kit-Kat~

*bites lip* :unsure:

Please tell me Eli's not the dad. How frickin' ironic would that be? Eeeehhh...

Must refreshing for Mo: having a nice, un-imposing celebrity who's actually intrigued by her mods. Suh-weeeett!!

Sorry I haven't been around lately. :wacko: Sooo sooo busy.

Morgan Lafay eh? Do I detect some Arthurian legend loving here? lol.

I love where this is going! More please!

:heartbeat: Pat

Yeah, that's part of the storyline. :lol: Just couldn't help myself. ^_^

I have totally been reading this by the way *laughs* I just keep forgeting to comment! :blush: Sorry!

It's good though, I like you writing style very much Fi :)

And someday I will post a worthwhile comment, I swear! *laughs*

*wanders off*

You are such a teaser, I got all excited thinking that you might have updated, but you didnt... :cry:

Meanie....lol

Katie

Yeah ... I have MASSIVE writer's block. But don't worry, I'm planning out scenes for the end, so by the time I start writing again, the end will be completely finished. :lol:

Thanks for reading guys, I promise I'll try to update soon! :hug:

:heartbeat:
-Feebs

I want mooooooooooooooooooooooore.

:heartbeat: Pat

I second that!!

*hands Fi a cookie* Here; hope it helps ward of the eeeevil writer's block!

Ttfn

Hahaha ... thanks. Guess it worked! ^_^

Chapter Four

The alarm goes off right beside my head. I reach out to find an extra pillow, and I fling it at that stupid red monster sitting on the side of my bed, promptly disconnecting it. I hate my alarm. I roll over, and immideately grimace as the bright sunlight glares through my window. Finally awake (damn sunlight, damn thin curtains), I drag my sorry ass out of bed and pad over to my bathroom. I splash cold water on my face, and pull out some of my jewelry. I like to change what I’m wearing every few days to prevent infection and stuff like that. The bits I’m not wearing, I boil in salt water to get rid of any bacteria that might be residing there. I know it’s not entirely necessary, I mean, it’s not like any of this stuff is fresh, but still. Better safe than sorry.

Oh shit. I think, leaning over to look into the mirror more closely. I sigh in exasparation and gently poke at my nose. Fucking ring. They always get infected. I should have just stuck with the nose screw. I fling open the medicine cabinet and reach for the little bottle of sea-salt solition that I keep stashed all over my house. Drenching a cotton puff with the stuff, I press it against my nose, undoing my pants with one hand. Tilting my head to prevent any of the water to fall off, I try to examine my week old tattoo on my hips. However, this is a lot easier said than done, because my boobs keep getting in the way. Damn them. I don’t understand what the big deal is about large breasts. I mean, I’m a 32D, and I just think they’re annoying. They get in the way all the time, I can only wear certain shirts, running is too painful, and people constantly stare at them instead of my face. Well, they stare at my face too, but that I can understand. It’s not like boobs are a new thing or something. I sigh and walk over to my bath. Gingerly balancing on the edge of the porcelain, I turn around and look at my tats in the mirror above the sink. I grab on to the shower curtain rack with my free hand, and frown. It might just be my pickyness, but I think that the ink in the star on the left isn’t taking as well as the one on the right.

Sighing, I give up and walk out into the hallway. Making my way down the stairs, the cotton puff still pressed against my nose, I enter the kitchen, looking for my guest for his opinion on the matter. By the way, just in case you were wondering, it hasn’t actually crossed my mind that I’m not wearing pants. I mean, when I lived with Jake, I walked around in my underwear all the time, and it wasn’t a big deal. I guess I just forgot that I don’t actually know this guy.

“Elijah?” I ask, turning the corner to find him standing at the stove, making breakfast. I sniff the air: waffles. I love waffles. This kid might just be my new best friend. Sorry Jake.

“Yes?” he asks, turning around. Upon noticing my state of undress, his wide blue eyes widen even more, and a slight flush creeps up his cheeks. I grin, a little confused at his reaction, but ploughing ahead anyway.

“Is it just me, or is the star on the left fading?” I ask, turning my hips a little for him to examine them. “See?” I ask, pulling the skin a little, staring down at the bright blue star. “I think the ink isn’t really taking.” I pout, annoyed. I had gotten them to cover up the scar left from my surface hip piercings that eventually rejected. They were pretty when they lasted.

He coughed, a little uncomfortable. Shit, I thought, realizing my severe lackage of pants for the first time. I laugh. “I’m not wearing any pants.” I say, rolling my eyes. Captain Obvious? Right here. “Sorry about that.” I bite my lip, deciding that I don’t really care all that much. “But seriously. Is it fading?”

He shrugs. “A little, I guess.” He turns back to his waffles, continuing with his back to me, “You’d probably want to talk to someone who can make an edcuated decision about that.”

I roll my eyes. Walking over to where he’s standing, I bump him out of my way with my hips and reach up above his head for the mugs. Placing them on the counter beside the coffee maker, I reach out for the grinder. I refuse to buy pre-ground coffee, preferring to give my puny little arms a workout in the morning. Pouring a handfull of coffee beans into the little cylinder, I begin grinding away, hitching my bum up on one of the bar stools. He still has his back to me, but I continue antway.

“So, why did you become an actor?” I ask, the beautiful aroma of freshly-ground coffee beans permeating the air around me.

“Well, my mom just thought I was a cute kid, I guess.” He shrugged. “I started doing commercials when I was about seven, and it all kinda snow-balled from there.” He transferred a waffle from the griddle onto a plate. “I can think of worse things I could be doing …” He turned around, the plate held out in front of him. “Waffle?”

I grin. “Kid, you are my new best friend. Waffles equals love.” I frown, suddenly realizing my calling him ‘kid’. I assume we’re about the same age, but I don’t know. “How old are you?” I ask, jumping down from my stool to fill up the pot.

He rummages around in my cutlery drawer for a knife. “Twenty-five. Why?”

I press the button on the bottom of the coffee thing. “Oh, just wondering.” I grin. I can finally lord my seniority over someone. Both Jake and Alex are older than me, and they’re about the only people who I talk to anymore. “I’m gonna go take a shower; I feel kinda gross.” I start to walk out the door, then poke my head back around, looking at him sitting benignly at my kitchen counter, a plate piled high with waffles in front of him. “Oh, and Elijah?” He looks up. I shake my finger at him. “No smoking inside the house. You wanna smoke, you do it outside, you hear?” I raise my eyebrow, trying to look fierce.

He raised his own, looking rather incredulous instead. “I hear …” he said, frowning.

I grin. “Good.” I say and bound up the stairs. We’d be starting today, and it wouldn’t do to be smelly and gross. As I step under the jet, I look at my hips again in the mirror. Stupid tattoo … I think, then hiss as the hot water hits my skin. Oh well, I’ll just get Jake to fix it for me later today. Hopefully today won't be very busy, or else I'd have a hard time convincing him to ink me in his limited spare time. Oh well. I shrug and reach for the shampoo.

Sorry it's been so long, guys. :bloom: Here's a flower for your patience! ^_^

:heartbeat:
-Feebs

WHAT?? WON'T BE WHATTTT????????/

:faint: You can't do this to meeeeeeeeeee............

Sorry, my computer's been effing up. Off to fix that. :eeek:

:eek: OMG Feebs updated...........*dies of shock* :faint: haha :laugh:

Definitely knows what she means, I have to constantly remind guys that my boobs and face are in two very different places...I always get the perverts :cry2:

Anyways oooh Lij can cook yay!!! I can't wait to see more :)

Katie

Yay! Update and it was great! I love her reaction to waffles, the same as me! I love waffles, anyways, wonderful chapter update soon!
:love:
~Kit-Kat~

YAY! I totally love this fic :)


Lesbian chicks rock! I can totally understand her POV and it rocks! Well only thing I can't understand is the metal in her face but hey, whatever makes her happy, right?

Anyway... I hope to read more soon *tracks topic from now on*


Love, Moon :hug:

Awesome chappie babe! *grins* I can't wait for more. *giggles*

Well, I know for a fact that I'm going to be up late tonight, so I might write some more. But Idk. I might go out. *evil laugh*

Awww ... thanks! :hug:

lol, I know, me too! :lol:

You're a freak. <_< But it's okay, because we love you! ^_^

Gee thanks, that made me feel loads better *rolls eyes* lol

Katie

Sorry it's taken me so long to reply- end of the semester craziness, oh the joy *grumble*

Just want to let you know I'm still reading :D

She's certainly and interesting character, isn't she? Hehe, but I can relate to instances where one suddenly realizes "Oh yea, you don't know me as well as most people- I should probably stop acting like such a freak...heh..."

*sniggers* Teh heh...

Anyway, nice chap hun (makes me want waffles! Mmmm...) Glad the cookie helped with writers block :laugh: Ttfn!

Well, I know it's kinda weird and all, but so what? It's all I can think of. ^_^

Chapter Five

The shop was rather quiet for a Monday. Then again, maybe it was simply because that it was Monday that there was no one there. Jake was in the back, working on a back-piece for an old friend, and Orlando, our behind-the-counter-bitch was home sick with laryngitis. Elijah had stepped outside for coffee and a smoke, so I was all alone in the waiting room. Sighing, I walk over to the stereo and switch it to something else, anything else, than Dashboard Confessional. I don’t know how the hell that CD got there, but I have a strange feeling that it was all Hayden’s fault. It usually is. Stupid bastard. Gotta love him though. He’s one of those adorable allways-accidentaly-messes-everything-up guys that you can’t help but love. Crazy kid. I remember when I pierced his eyebrow, boy, his eyes watered like hell about that. We made fun of him for days afterwards.

I make my way over to the bookshelf, and pull out something at random. And yes, before you make some smart-ass comment, there is a bookshelf in my parlor. A room without books is like a body without at soul. All the rooms that I (even partially) own have books in them somewhere. Here, we tend to have more magazines than books, but there are a few proper books. Grey’s Anatomy, for one, complete with full-sized pictures and shit. It looks like some old cheezy witchcraft manual. I bought it at a flea market years ago; I just fell in love with the heavy weight and the leather cover.

The book I’m holding in my hand is bound in gold faux-silk, with some chinese lettering on the front that I can’t really remember what it means. I suddenly smile, remembering what it was. My diary, the one that I hadn’t opened in years. I got this diary for Christmas in sixth grade, and I only had one entry in it. I had never felt the need to write in a diary before, but this was the first time that writing was the only way I could make myself deal with what had happened.

It all happened in the last few days of school. I had just survived a rather messy break-up with my girlfriend of almost a year, and I really didn’t actually want to see anyone who knew about her and me. I just didn’t want to see anyone for that matter.

I loved her so much. It hurt every time I though about her, every time I saw her face in pictures, sketches, through a classroom window… I still couldn’t believe that she had simply dumped me because she had found someone else. It was almost as if she had only dated me because I was a year older than her, I had a tattoo and a tongue ring, and already had my license. Was my only redeeming factor my car?

I suddenly find myself overlooked, someone who becomes a friend and nothing more, who spends hours fixating upon my looks and my personality and my actions because it must be me that is doing something wrong. I don't give it up on the first date, I don't want to play mind games, I provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story I’ve heard a thousand times. I understand that I’m not perfect and that the people I’m interested in aren't either… I flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow I am able to keep alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time they’ll have understood. I laugh loud and often, am comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, and care more than I should for people who don't deserve my attention. I’ve been in the trenches, I’ve watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the people in my life without saying a word. I’ve been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." And the funny thing is that I don’t believe you anymore.

I have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that I’d rather not have experienced. I have spent my weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting friend or a comatose crush, I’ve received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite me over but is still willing to pass out in my bed. I have left sad song lyrics in my away messages, have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, I have time and time again dropped my ‘friend’ hint after hint after hint only to watch them chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. I have been told that I’m too good or too smart or too pretty, I’ve have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, and I’ve have ever been told I am only wanted as a friend, most recently by the girl that I thought I could have spend the rest of my life with.

I’ve been told that I’m the girl you can take home to mom, but, funnily enough, I won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; I have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. I believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want me, it's that they don't want anyone. I have had my heart broken and my hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; I have experienced those nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in their speech… and also nights when I’ve seen from across the room them leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl they’re with to be a random hookup. I have endured party after party in their presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that they didn't want a relationship: it was that they didn't want me.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard the, "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after I read more into a situation than they ever intended; I have been on the receiving end of those hugs you get from your other friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; I have experienced the despair you felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear.

I still can’t believe she’s gone. I love her so much. Why can’t she see that?

Morgan and Lucy forever.

What have I done wrong? I want to die…

Well, no matter how much I wanted to die, Jake wouldn’t let me. Dirty bastard. Instead, he took me to the tattoo parlor where he was working, and convinced the piercer that it would be a great idea to pierce my nipples. I had always kinda wanted them done, but my girlfriend, no, ex-girlfriend, didn’t like the idea of the girl she was with having metal shoved through “there”. It was a rather bittersweet victory over the girl who had simply played with my emotions and left me in the dust. And the funny thing is, it’s not like she cared anymore. I suppose I was just doing it to simply spite her, but truth be told, it was basically a wasted gesture. I sigh, placing the book back on the shelf.

Stretching, I rub my belly, trying to imagine how it would feel completely distended and gross. I peer down at my feet, wiggling my toes in my sandals. I probably won't be able to see these for much longer. I make a face. Sure, babies are cute and everything, but sometimes, people tend to overlook the part where you spend nine months feeling like a fucking baluga whale before the little bugger pops out. What am I doing? I think. I don't really even like children that much. Frowning, I turn off the light behind the counter, grab my jacket, and flip the sign on the door over, making sure to adjust the time to indicate that I'd be back in twenty minutes. I need to walk a bit to clear my mind. What did I get myself into? I ask myself, wishing that there was some way I could figure out the answer.

I was totally going to quote the entire journal entry, saying how much I sympathize with it and how its so me and ... then I realized I've seen it before, and not in my thoughts.

I really like how you incorporated that into this.

And its really depressing that she's having a baby when they broke up with her.

^_^ Yeah, it just seemed like something that would fit well with her character. I had one hell of a time trying to make it all into first person present tense though. Good Lord. You'd think that wouldn't be that hard, but it totally is. -_- Totally gross. :lol:

Great chapter hun and I like the journal entry, it gave you a good insight into her feelings and how she really feels about her up coming events. Please update as soon as you can!
:love:
~Kit-Kat~

Hey babe. I just wanted to say that the journal entry blew me away. You can feel her pain at being driven to care so much for someone and then have it blown in your face. :cry: And I feel so bad for her cause she's having a baby that they were gonna share, so I understand why she's doubting it now. Awesome chap babe. *blows kisses* Write more soon.

Great chappie!
Must have been hard for her to be dumped for someone else... twice now!

I hope to read more soon!


Love, Moon :hug: