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j-rease · 10 years

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Fanfiction Update: Snippet: Being Human

Spoiler Alert!

Snippet under the cut of the 60+ page update of Being Human. (I coauthor this fic with the amazing Guyana Rose (I know her simply as Alicia).

Check it out if you haven't (Hint: it's uploaded to her fanfiction page)

Full update coming soon.

Being Human Snippet:

She'll do anything for Shelby; anything. If Shelby wants her to wear pretty dresses and play nice, she will. If Shelby wants her to drop out of school and help her raise Beth-- she will. At this point, if Shelby even mentions setting herself on fire because it will make her happy-- Quinn will do it, because all she needs is Shelby. All she thinks about and aches for is Shelby. Ever since the bathroom stall incident, Quinn has been more aware than she has been before. It's like she has a radar for her mate now; and every breath Shelby takes, Quinn almost swears it fills her own lungs with air.

Quinn can only take that to mean that she's getting closer to changing Shelby's mind for the better.

She had her doubts at first. That she is biting off more than she can chew with Shelby, that maybe her mind would be one Quinn couldn't change. But with every passing day, Quinn chips away a little bit more at Shelby's cool exterior. Beneath the surface she can feel the heat of the inferno raging inside her. She's happy now that she knows-- no matter how much Shelby tries to deny her, that Shelby wants her; that they are compatible.

Since that day in the bathroom, Quinn has been on the straight and narrow. She doesn't want to give Shelby any reason to ban her from her life. She also doesn't want to give Puck any leeway in his preposterous plan to get into Shelby's pants. Especially since Shelby's offer to baby sit Beth a few times each week. Puck would get days with Beth as well-- but hopefully he isn't using the time to get closer to Shelby.

The first time she babysits Beth, she is terrified. The child is gifted; but she also has a mean streak longer than Quinn's could ever reach. Beth's vendetta doesn't calm down after Quinn agrees to babysit for her while Shelby goes to the gym, and the child spends the evening reading quietly to herself and ignoring Quinn altogether. It's then Quinn realizes she needs backup.

Approaching Rachel for help is like swallowing every ounce of pride she has left. But she swallows it like a lump in her throat and she does the impossible. She asks for help. Rachel seems excited about the entire thing-- and Quinn isn't sure what she's getting herself in to-- but apparently Beth loves her sister to pieces, and Quinn doesn't deny it when they cross into the threshold of Shelby's condo together and the tiny person all but runs and jumps into her sister's arms.

Quinn is a bit jealous-- but she files the feeling away. She'll have time to make it up to Beth ... the time she's already missed will hopefully be forgotten once Quinn makes them all a family.

Quinn uses the distraction to greet Shelby, who's getting ready to leave with the bathroom door open. Quinn walks up quietly, taking in the grand view of Shelby in her yoga pants, the black material hugging her firm calves and supple backside. Quinn coughs as Shelby adjusts her ponytail. She leans against the door frame and crosses her arms over her chest when Shelby tries to hide the smile that manages to spread quickly across her features and disappear just as fast.

“Hey...” Quinn says it like she knows a secret.

“Hi...” Shelby replies bashfully.

Quinn can feel it. It's like two trains on the same track; speeding toward one another until meeting in the middle in a screech of bending metal and ricocheting shrapnel. She feels the chug chug chug down a proverbial track.

"You got a hot date?"

Shelby laughs, rosy cheeks blushing her bronzed complexion.

"Ha! Me? A date? More like a date with a treadmill."

Quinn chuckles along with her until her eyes drift down to where her hand rests on her hip.

"Everything looks great to me..." Quinn bites her lip.

Shelby stares at her in surprise before snapping back in to her denial.

Quinn's decided that that is what this is; Shelby is in denial. She wants her. And as soon as they acknowledge each other-- it's all they can acknowledge. Quinn takes a steadying breath. Shelby walks out of the bathroom with a head nod to follow her, and Quinn does, reluctantly, into the kitchen. Rachel and Beth are on the living room floor, pouring over music from Shelby's collection. Shelby is going over the same lecture she always does. When Beth last ate something, where her food is in the cabinets and to not let Beth talk them out of going to sleep on time.

Quinn follows even though she's heard this lecture twice before, hanging off the brunette’s words as Shelby moves gracefully around the kitchen. She's doing it to distract herself. Quinn lets her do it; pushing aside her impatience. Shelby will give in sooner or later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Confusion. It’s a word that Shelby associates with often these days. At its very base level she blames her issues on her hormones. It’s been awhile since she’s felt more than wanted for a night’s company; awhile since she’s felt truly … desired. It’s not like she doesn’t get compliments, or invites out; she actually gets hit on quite frequently. But when it comes to Quinn, and Shelby really hates admitting it, there’s something more; so much more.

Ever since her bathroom debacle she’s been waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under her feet. Shelby’s been waiting for her indiscretion to be held over her head by some over-eager, under-sexed asshole; but nothing has happened. The person that was in the other stall still remains a mystery. Sometimes her imagination likes to tease her and she thinks that somehow it could have been Puck, or worse, Quinn. But then she comes to her senses and dismisses the thoughts because they are based on nothing; except her actual interactions with Quinn, and to an extent Puck, aren’t nothing.

Puck is relatively easy. He’s a pound puppy that simply wants to, well … pound. He’s not so subtly already laid his cards out on the table. He wants to sleep with Shelby. He gives her longing looks at school and constantly flirts when he spends time with Beth and has no shortage of innuendos falling out of his mouth at all times. He’s also very competitive; he tends to draw Quinn in to battle.

At Glee practices it almost seems like the two are in a heavy weight boxing match; both vying for her attention and approval. Shelby won’t admit to it - hell, as far they know she doesn’t acknowledge their competition - but most times, Quinn wins. Beth for the most part thinks the man is an immature goofball and the little blonde is certain her vocabulary has a lot more range than his. The young girl rolls her eyes at most things he says. Beth gets on with him decently enough though, and Shelby’s happy for that; although it makes her feel flip floppy.

Puck has a few redeeming qualities; he can be awfully thoughtful and sweet when he chooses to be. When it comes to Beth, despite his flirtations, he is always in caring daddy mode. It’s cute to see, but does nothing to cure the flip floppiness Shelby feels towards the boy. One minute she forgets that he’s a hormone driven teenager trying to get into her pants because they’re at the park and Beth is happy and he’s smiling at her with his cute goofy boy grin as they watch Beth play and Shelby doesn’t feel so lonely anymore. But then they’re back at her condo for lunch and Beth is napping and Puck is standing far too close for her comfort and then she remembers, eighteen or not, he’s a child. She pushes him away but she also feels like she’s still sending him signals; which is why he keeps trying. She can’t, or perhaps won’t, completely shut him down; at least not yet, because despite how annoying he can be at times … he’s the perfect buffer for her issues with Quinn.

Quinn is far more complicated than Puck. Shelby knows if she asks the girl for anything at this point, Quinn will happily do it without hesitation. The girl has even asked if Shelby wants her to dye her hair blonde again. Of course Shelby said no; she likes Quinn’s pink hair. The color does something to the natural rouge shade of the girl’s lips and...

Damn it.

That’s what makes Quinn so dangerous. A simple thought about hair color can so easily blossom in to thoughts Shelby should not be having. Quinn gets under her skin like no one’s business. If Shelby ever really wants to make a bad decision, with the right push, she would definitely do it with Quinn. She knows, trust, Shelby knows how bad that decision would be. Because she knows that with Quinn, it’s not going to be just a quick romp. She doesn’t know why she has that information or why she feels so strongly about it; she just does, and that single thought scares the hell out of her.

Unlike Puck, Quinn is more refined with her charms. When in school, she sits near the front of class, but not too close. Shelby never has to worry about turning around and seeing Quinn practically drooling and looking like she’s about to jump out of her chair and hump her leg. When class is over, Shelby’s noticed that Quinn is usually the last one out. When Shelby turns around from erasing the lessons on the board there is usually a witty romantic quote or a small box containing a piece of artisan chocolate near her briefcase on the desk. How Quinn knows that those chocolates are one of her favorite treats she’s unsure.

Quinn’s first few visits are not completely unpleasant; but they’re not very comfortable either. Shelby knows why, and she understands, but she really hopes Beth opens up to her other mother soon. The similarities she sees in the two are uncanny sometimes. A lot of Beth’s facial expressions come from Quinn, as does her mean streak and witty sarcasm; all qualities that deep down, Shelby adores and can’t see Quinn being without.

Quinn’s smart, and Shelby internally commends her. She brings Rachel over to help babysit. If anyone can help Beth come to terms and move on with Quinn, it’s Rachel.

Shelby is getting ready in the bathroom for her trip to the gym - which is preposterous in itself since no one should really “get ready” to sweat - but she knew subconsciously that Quinn would be paying attention to her. She feels Quinn without having to turn away from the mirror; Quinn’s gaze grazes over her skin like hot lava. It takes everything for Shelby to ignore the urge to have her.

“Hey,” Quinn says in greeting as she leans against the bathroom door jam.

“Hi,” Shelby blushes through her reply.

She’s been trying to work on this; on not showing so many of her inner thoughts and feelings on her face for Quinn or anyone to see and decipher. However misguided it may be Shelby has come to the conclusion that it’s not Quinn that she’s drawn to, but the idea of what Quinn wants from her. She could have her picture perfect family with anyone; it doesn’t have to be Quinn. Quinn’s just … pretty and there and charming and there. There’s no particular pull towards the girl, just the idea of what a relationship with her could possibly mean; not the girl herself.

Goodness she needs to keep her shit together. The bathroom is too small; being in close proximity with Quinn has become dangerous. She is too compelled to reach out; too enraptured in the frozen moments that her body sometimes acts on its own accord and she has to catch herself from being reckless. She doesn’t manage walking out of the shrinking room without brushing past Quinn.

She heads to the kitchen, giving the same speech she always gives to Quinn.

Quinn takes a moment to brush some stray hair from Shelby’s falling ponytail and the woman almost freezes. The older woman abruptly pulls away when she notices what she’s allowing herself to do. She refocuses on the speech after her words return to her. She needs something tactical; something familiar to distract her mind from focusing too much on the fact that her body is going haywire around her daughter’s mother.

She lingers for just a while longer to make sure Quinn has all the information she needs to have; even though she knows she’s simply repeating herself for lack of courage to say anything else. She kisses both of her daughters goodbye and sends a wink at Beth before finally going through the door; it’s a silent signal meant to coax her youngest daughter to give Quinn a chance.

Once she’s in the corridor leading to the parking lot her hand seems to stick to the door knob. A fleeting thought of going back in and kissing Quinn goodbye sifts into her mind. She takes a final breath and decides against it; Quinn may be eighteen, but Shelby is the real adult and she knows she needs to keep a level head. When she gets to her car she decides against going to the gym. She turns away from the vehicle and her sneakered feet immediately begin to pad against the asphalt.

She’s once again painstakingly aware that there’s far too much Quinn in her mind. As hard as she tries, and she really does try, she can’t get the girl out of her head. Sometimes she feels so connected to the Quinn without really meaning to be. It’s almost like there’s something far more powerful than Beth that connects them; pulls them toward each other. She feels like she knows what Quinn wants; and she wishes it was as simple as sex.

She breathes deep as she pushes herself to go faster. She can almost feel the air; like it’s passing through her body and easing the wound up cogs within. She decides that this run has to be long if she wants to disperse the energy building inside of her.

She can only hope when she gets back home that she’ll be too exhausted to act on anything involving Quinn Fabray.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is definitely something going on between Quinn and her biological mother. What it is ... Rachel isn't sure. Quinn has this smitten look about her and Shelby is just eating it up. It's odd. She can't quite place it but she knows something is up with them. She watches them flitter around the kitchen from her perch on the floor. Beth is going over which musicals to sing together for their “night of fun” when she sees it.

Quinn reaches out a hand to move a stray hair from Shelby's face and Shelby all but melts into her embrace.

She's definitely disturbed.

She and Quinn aren't as close as they could be, Rachel supposes. Since Quinn's makeover (and her un-makeover), Rachel has been worried that something in Quinn's life was in disarray. Rachel has so much of her own plate that she'd only tried an intervention over the summer; under the bleachers with Quinn in front of the skanks. She could only hope that Quinn's drastic changes were primarily for image.

And as a potential friend, Rachel wants to always have open arms. She always wants Quinn to feel as if they can talk-- especially if Quinn is trying to get back in to Beth's life. Rachel loves her sister-- it had taken some time to get used to the fact that her mother had chosen the offspring of her ex-fling and ex-nemesis-- but Rachel has matured and she's been dealing with it splendidly.

And Beth is irresistible. A tiny ball of enthusiasm and intelligence; it's hard not to love a child as happy and bright as she is. The girl’s intelligence makes it easy to forget how young she really is.

"I notice it too Rachie..."

It's only then does Rachel realize she's been staring. She turns to the child with a quirk in her brow that suggests that Beth should continue.

"...Mom smells like chocolate whenever Quinn's around."

Rachel has no idea what this means. Nor does she understand Beth's implications.

"It's the smell of love, silly!" Beth whispers it behind her tiny hand as Quinn follows Shelby around listening to the speech Shelby gives every time she's about to leave Beth with a sitter. "Mom smells like baking chocolate. And she doesn't stop smiling. And when Quinn goes away, Mom smells different; like she's disappointed."

Rachel rolls her eyes dramatically.

"Beth there is no way your sense of smell can pick up on hormonal changes--"

"You had almond milk and nutella toast for breakfast this morning. You smell like you've been hugging cinnamon sticks wrapped in vanilla. I can only assume you've been hugging your girlfriend ... because it's not how you usually smell."

She is taken aback. Especially since Beth is right. Shelby walks over to them and kisses them both goodbye before turning back to the door. Rachel tucks hair behind her ear and looks over to Shelby and Quinn by the door.

"So what does Quinn smell like when she's around Mom?"

Beth takes a moment, looking to the two of them in confusion-- Rachel rarely sees that look across the gifted child's face. Beth turns back to Rachel as Quinn blushes and grins openly at Shelby who's had her hand on the door to leave for a few moments now.

"It's hard to explain. But she smells like ... like heat."

It's Rachel's turns to be confused now.

"What does heat smell like?"

Beth shrugs.

"It smells warm and inviting. It smells like sweat on Quinn's hands. It smells like a racing heart and tired, jelly legs. Like I said, it’s hard to explain.”

Beth goes back to arranging musicals, alphabetizing them before standing and excusing herself to use the bathroom. Rachel sits on the floor of the living room watching Quinn and Shelby interact. There is definitely something there. It's sweet and subtle and she can see it growing between them.

It's attraction.

Rachel looks away then, taken at the news of Quinn wanting her mother that way ... and possibly Shelby wanting Quinn back. She blushes at the implications. She's been noticing things a lot more these days-- especially with Puck. Puck being a horn dog is normal; and when he started making obvious passes at Shelby, Rachel wrote it off: Puck made passes at everyone-- now was not the time to start questioning his motives. And besides, her mother could obviously take care of herself.

There is something so different about Quinn though, and Rachel has always known it. She wants to know everything right now; but she doesn't want to delve in to Quinn's intentions with Beth there-- especially if she finds out that Quinn is only vying for Beth's affections in order to impress Shelby.

Rachel is giving her the benefit of the doubt that that isn't the case-- but Rachel has seen Quinn do much worse.

The idea of Quinn and Shelby actually dating is a scarier thought. Rachel files her thoughts away for later just as Beth and Quinn come to sit down with her on the floor-- thoughts of musicals and singing quickly overpowering Rachel's mind.

#Guyana Rose #Quinn/Shelby #Glee #Being Human #J Rease #Update coming soon #Sci-Fi #Fantasy #Smut #girlpeen

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j-rease · 10 years

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I'm like two books away to reading this. So excited!

#My kind of book #Go check it out #Reading list is long #Valhalla #Ari Bach

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j-rease · 10 years

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Everyone go read Molly's Faberry week short--

Here's my review of it:

Ok. So reading this first without the references-- I noticed the familiarity of the Watson-Crick Academy ( I read it twice). After remembering the story of Oryx and Crake-- I made connections with your themes etc to those of the lovely Miss Atwood.

Beautiful job :).

From what I remember of the book (read it a longggg time ago, still haven't gotten to the sequels), Crake bioengineered a perfect species (that wouldn't get itself into the things it did to kill a lot of the population) and killed off the "true humans" still left to destroy the planet. Oryx-- the teacher of the Crakes, was a former pornographic child star who grew to date both Crake and Snowman. While she may have loved Jimmy more (undecided), she respected Crake for his intelligence. Crake was God and Oryx was the keeper of animals.

Snowman was there to care for the Crakes.

Now in your version, I love that the Other are the Bioengineered. How the human finds all the negative things about something before they have a chance to prove them wrong -- it's in our nature. You've left me with reasonable doubt. You made me question what it means to be human and in this case... who the bad guys are.

I love how LQF and RBB are these machines that find all the meanings of life in the seconds they are alive and that's enough. You've encapsulated humanity in mere seconds and the way it ended left me with so many good feelings-- they'll be atoms floating around the universe but they'll come together again.

I love the created at the exact moment thing as well-- like a soul split between two inanimate objects; experiencing life in the eternity of mere moments.

This is beautiful. It's short and you haven't wasted a word of any of it and while it's short it's perfect and I don't want to add or take away.

I'm rambling.

I love your shorts -- as always. But this one touched me. Especially your references to the great Miss Atwood.

As always. Never stop writing. I need things like this to read.

Jess

Faberry Week Day 1: Scars Day 2: Meeting Frannie (or: The Devil Wears Gardenias) Day 2: Meeting Frannie (or: Gardenias in Stone) Day 4: Age Difference (or: The Lack Thereof)

At precisely 12:01pm on June 30th, 2046, the assembly line at Watson-Crick Institute, a subsidiary of Big Ideas Incorporated, ground to a screeching halt – literally.

Their newest big idea – pronounced ‘Big Idea!’ in certain circles, and ‘big idea…’ in others – had been a self-sustaining, though limited, artificial intelligence processor encapsulated by a biodynamic hardware shell. Said biodynamic hardware shell possessed the intricacies and capabilities necessary to mimic the human form. The concept of these WCI deemed “BioForms” was to fulfill service obligations to the public by carrying out menial – but necessary – jobs left vacant in the wake of the population crash of 2037. Such jobs included Froyo Dispenser, Ticket Booth Clerk, Street Sweeper, and Crosswalk PatrolForm. Temporary investigation had gone into the possibility of BioForms taking over public office in the United States; the project was successfully implemented for approximately six months in the year 2042, but the outcry from other “legitimate” terrestrials who happened to be real members of Congress was so insufferably whiny, once they found out the truth, that the project was shut down. In New York City, BioForms were incorporated into the taxi driver system; as a result, people did not necessarily get anywhere any faster, but there was a lot less anger in general – especially given the restrictions on the earliest BioForm models’ abilities to feel or express emotion.

And that, really, was where the problem had started.

Apathy is a strange thing – it is a vacuum where emotions go to die. And so its very lack of emotion defines its existence, and makes it an emotion itself. There was always, from the beginning of production, something disconcerting about being around a BioForm – an entity greatly resembling a human being but with none of the neural complexities. Such an utter lack of emotion was terrifying to behold, though useful to society in general.

And thusly, BioForm2.0s were created. The first unit rolled down the production line on August 1st, 2043, at 8:00am. They hit the market in 2044, and shop-owners, municipalities, and those with money to burn and whims to pander bought them up like hotcakes. They could smile coyly, express attitude, and instantaneously adapt their personalities to befit the moods of the people around them.

They were not dangerous. Not inherently. But all good things must come to an end.

So the history of science fiction tells us: these things are Other, these things are not Us, these things will someday realize that we have created them to be so (so so so) utterly powerful that their will, will be greater than our will, and that we must therefore use the will we (still, luckily) possess to crush (destroy obliterate decimate) this Other so that only We remain.

And so it was.

On the morning of June 30th, 2046, a heated debate between the Watson-Crick Institute and Wyandotte College was nearing its culmination. The former maintained that, since life – however artificial – had been bestowed upon the newest model of BioForms, to shut them down would be murder – nay, mass genocide. And the latter institution argued that ‘the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away’ – an argument that conveniently ignored the College’s motto of ‘Science, Alone, Above All Else’. They had been arguing for months with, perhaps unsurprisingly, no ground gained or lost.

But at approximately 11:00am, the order came down from the Highest Authority in the land: the Plug was to be Pulled, big time, and the Watson-Crick Institute would have one hour to do so. Every single unit was to be deactivated simultaneously via the WCI’s kill switch. The Watson-Crick Institute representatives wept – both at their apparently fruitless efforts and also for the loss of life, however artificial. And Wyandotte College’s representatives also wept – mostly from relief. Relief that these menacing things would never incite revolution amongst themselves, would never murder them all in their beds at night, would never again glance at them with a look in their eye either too empty, or too full. They were Other, and they were to be no more.

In the days since BioForm1.0 production had ended, the WCI had stopped running all but two assembly lines. Those assembly lines had been running non-stop since the first BioForm2.0 unit began its creation journey to a fully formed product. The assembly lines did not create BioForm2.0s in sync; rather, they managed to create a fully-formed BioForm2.0 at distinctly different times, but at ever so slightly variable rates. This variation in rate allowed for a confluence of events resulting in the simultaneous completion of two BioForm2.0s at exactly the same time once every 91,943,940 seconds. Or rather, once every 1,532,399 minutes. Or, if it pleases you, once every 25,539 hours. Or, perhaps easier to visualize, once every 1064 days.

For those of us not inclined to spontaneous and perfectly accurate mathematical calculations, this means that 2 BioForm2.0 units were created at exactly the same instant – at 11:59am on June 30th, 2046. Their serial numbers (randomized, per WCI protocol) were LQF184EV4 and RBB317BE9.

If you’ve been keeping track of the numbers – of which there have been a few – then you may recall that the kill switch was engaged at precisely 12:01pm on June 30th, 2046. This means that units LQF and RBB experienced the miracle of life – however (arguably) artificial – for approximately 120 seconds before their operating systems were wiped out completely, along with all other BioForms on the face of the planet.

But sometimes, two minutes is the equivalency of a thousand, thousand lifetimes. When your brain – or rather, your computer processor – is as efficient and well-developed as those of the BioForm2.0s’ had to be, then this was the case.

It took LQF and RBB fractions of a millisecond to become aware of each other. A few fractions of a millisecond more for their individual systems to reach out through the ether and discover – and subsequently, to memorize – every minutiae of the other. In the few seconds following this, they had a conversation; this conversation encompassed everything from the meanings of life, the universe, and the existence of love, to the reasoning behind giant balls of yarn, mountains carved into faces (‘Or is it vice versa?’ RBB had wondered to which LQF had replied ‘Tomato, tomato’ which was actually a strange human saying that neither of them fully understood, despite having grasped the meaning of life quite quickly), and war. A few seconds more were devoted to death – its meaning, its relevance, its inevitability. And though they well knew by now that their existence was to end at approximately 12:01pm, they had plenty of time to come to terms with this. It didn’t even take a fraction of their computing power to reason that everything dies, and that all things must eventually come to an end.

All of this communication happened before noon.

In their last 73 seconds, BioForms LQF and RBB stepped down from their designated positions amidst other finished BioForms, and they walked towards each other. They stood before one another, their biodynamic hardware shells bare for complete perusal by the other. The tips of their fingers extended outward, reaching. And when their components met, data exchange between the two units stopped completely. This silence lasted one entire, painful, blissful second. And then their processing cores began firing rapidly enough that, had anyone from the Watson-Crick Institute (or even Wyandotte College) been paying proper attention, they may have been able to access data sufficient enough to prove the existence of life within these units, a hundred times over.

Alas, that was not the case.

The clock ticked down. Every second gave birth to a hundred universes in which LQF and RBB imagined their lives together, in absolute entirety. First, a life in which they lived far from each other and did not meet until their 28th birthdays, at which time they fell madly in love, and eloped. Then, a life in which they knew each other from the time they were thirteen years old, both new students at a strange new school. Then, a life in which they were best friends in high school, madly in love during college, went their separate ways and started families with others until finally meeting again in their forties, somehow picking up as if they had never been foolish children. Then, a life in which they grew old (old, so old) together, sitting in rocking chairs on the wraparound porch of their ranch-style home every evening as the sun went down. Then, a life where they were neurons, flitting about the universe, becoming a part of this or that or the other, always together. Then, a life where they were LQF and RBB, standing, staring, touching, feeling – loving.

And then, nothing. The kill switch was engaged. Every BioForm on the planet powered down instantly.

But LQF and RBB had lived a thousand, thousand lives together. And so they bore no ill will towards the world as they dissipated into the ether.

Author’s Note: “Watson-Crick Institute” is a reference to Margaret Atwood’s novel, Oryx and Crake, and Wyandotte College is a reference to Kurt Vonnegut’s collected works, Welcome to the Monkey House (though the college’s lame motto is all mine).

#Molly #Your.Kat #Faberry Week #Awesome Read

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j-rease · 10 years

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Back in Action

Hello all!

I have been off in studying, test taking and book promotion land for a while, and I've neglected my fanfiction readers (I know, I suck). But do not fret, I'm getting back into the swing of things and I'm assessing what will be updated when.

I have gotten a few glee prompts (and apparently two bates motel prompts) that I may start working on as well.

My next update will most likely be Behing Human with my friend and fellow writer, Guyana Rose. After that will probably be Stealing Sunshine and So Pretty in Your Pain. I'll release dates next week.

I know Glee is a sucky show now... but I will try to keep my quality of work as it has been thus far.

Hit the ask box if you have any questions.

Jess

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j-rease · 10 years

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Fanfiction Update: So Pretty In Your Pain

New chapter from J.Rease, So Pretty In Your Pain Chapter 4: Chapter 4 https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6970902/4/So-Pretty-In-Your-Pain Glee Words: 5,146 Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Rated: M Character: Santana L., Will S. Summary: When Santana Lopez accuses William Schuester of rape, she splits the Glee club in half. Only they know what really happened that night. But what happens when Santana can't quite recall everything that happened? Who's side would you choose? Prompt Fill

Thanks goes out to all the patient followers. I broke this up so you guys wouldn't have to wait. Errors are all mine.

#So Pretty In Your Pain #fanfiction #glee #Santana #Triggers #Promptfill #hurt/comfort #j rease

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j-rease · 10 years

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j-rease · 10 years

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Procrastination.

It'll drive a girl to do the craziest things...

People put stuff in my ask box to distract me from studying...

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j-rease · 10 years

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Today I met a goal...

The formal count for my novel, Villainous, is at 29 sold books; and 120 e-book downloads. My original goal had been to sell 20 books in the span of three months. Two weeks after publishing my debut novel; I have received overwhelming support from friends, family, and strangers.

I'd like to personally thank all of my tumblr followers, fanfiction readers and avid reviewers for their constant support. Without you guys, I would have never fulfilled a dream I have always hoped to accomplish.

Thanks to each and every one of you- the known and unknown.

Jessica.

#Jessica S. Carter #Villainous #Novels #First time publishing #A big thank you #Goals #Writing

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j-rease · 10 years

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I just wanted to let you know that I have read your book and that I absolutely loved it. I have the kindle version currently, but I'm going to buy the paperback version just so that I can share with my friends and family.

Why so Anonymous!? I'm glad you enjoyed it. I wish amazon let me see users that downloaded. I always love to know who is reading.

I also want you to know that I'm scrapbooking this (and probably all feedback I get from my novel).

Thanks for giving my book a chance; it means the world to me.

Jessica

And remember. If you need a discount code for the print book let me know.

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j-rease · 10 years

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Villainous FREE Today!

There is currently a promotion running on my e-book version of Villainous. Thanks to over 60 downloads, I have reached number 4 on the bestsellers in Free Contemporary Fantasy list.

The e-book will remain free until the end of today, for anyone interested. The next promotion will be announced beforehand.

Find the book HERE

Jessica.

#Villainous #Jessica S Carter #Nanowrimo #Novel #Amazon Details #Free Stuff #Books

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j-rease · 10 years

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New Fanfiction: The Sitter

Getting back into the swing of things with a prompt from Guyana Rose.

The Sitter

NC-17 Shelby/Mercedes G/P Prompt Fill

The Sitter

The door slams behind you when you let go of the handle-- you flinch at the noise, hoping Beth doesn't wake up from the commotion. That date had been a bust; almost immediately you were annoyed-- the blonde man had asked you out and you accepted; it had been too long since the last time someone took you out. He just so happened to be the coach of Aural Intensity; and you had hoped that having similar hobbies would set you up for a fabulous night.

He took you to Breadstix and you had to hold back the scathing remark at the sleaziness of the place. You bit your tongue and you let him plow through his life story-- what he thought were accomplishments. You chewed and stewed on the brittle bread sticks and let him run on about his team and his community theater days; until the check came and you were back in his car.

You went dancing afterward. He had two left feet and no confidence leading-- so you salsa danced with a beautiful Latina that you would have rather taken home instead of Kriss (a name he insisted on spelling three times in case you hadn't caught it the two times prior). By the time he pulled you away from her (Maribel, you learned as you were led back to his car), you could feel the adrenaline rush of connection.

You convinced yourself it was just the dancing-- that being so close to a beautiful woman had gotten you worked up. You were tense and had a lot of things that needed releif--but you would deal with that when you got home. Kriss (you roll your eyes instinctively), had asked to take you to his favorite "spot", and you obliged since it was only nearing eight when you had gotten on the road again.

His favorite spot had been a lake near the end of town; surrounded by forestry and low hanging stars. It was the first time he had been charming that night, telling you he called the small clearing his snow globe-- that he came there to think or unwind. You talked for a while, about Beth and your job in Lima-- about meeting people online and dating colleagues. About how all the other romantic endeavors had fallen apart.

He claimed he wanted this one to be different-- it was at the same time his hand rested on your inner thigh-- and you smirked at him. He leaned in to kiss you and you let him--hoping he would surprise you with some skill.

He didn't.

Instead you let him handle you like a teenager would (he hadn't even been as good as Noah Puckerman); groping and squeezing in disbelief that someone let him close enough to touch. His wandering hands slid under your skirt and you pushed him away immediately. Most men didn't take it lightly when they found your penis-- no matter how soft it was under the body shaper you'd worn specifically for this event. And while you were sure there had to have been some ounce of gay in this man-- you weren't sure how in denial he had been.

You realized early on that more often than not a man would feign anger before curiosity got the best of them. And it was always a plus that underneath it was a functioning vagina-- that the penis was completely optional to the men who chose to be with you that way. You weren't sure Kriss would be ready to find it-- to touch it or accept it; and you didn't want to find out how bad he was in bed.

So you asked him to take you home.

Of course; only after the apologies and pandering of a desperate man; a complete turn off. You asked him again to take you home-- not afraid in the least that he would do anything to warrant a kick in the nuts. His heavy sigh protested how unfair he thought the entire ordeal was; but he started the engine and drove you home as slowly as he possibly could while trying to change your mind.

When he dropped you off he asked for a nightcap; but you gladly declined citing having to pay the baby sitter. He was confused; as he obviously hadn't been listening to anything you mentioned about your family in between his gloating and boasting of his mediocre job and low reaching dreams.

Now you were home. It was only ten o'clock-- and you paid Mercedes to stay until at least midnight. What expectations you had at the beginning at the night had dissipated the moment you sat down on the sticky booth at Breadstix.

You reach for the scotch you keep in the cupboard above the refrigerator just as you hear Mercedes rise from the couch in the living room to make her way to the bathroom. Out of all the girls you had taught-- Mercedes was the most level headed. When she had first gotten under your tutelage; you had to point out her laziness. The girl's voice was melodious...she had the potential for greatness but she also assumed a beautiful voice was all she needed for her arsenal.

Of course, you let her know that it was more than that. Mercedes met your challenge eagerly-- something you hadn't expected, and you admired how mature and level headed she was. It was a big reason you'd asked her to babysit. Sure, you could have asked Quinn or Noah-- but after Quinn's last stunt and Noah's last sexual proposition; you'd decided that someone not directly associated with the current situation you are in.

Rachel had crossed your mind before she asked Mercedes; but your biological daughter was off putting when it came to Beth-- and you can never quite look at her for too long-- flashes of the threesome you had with her fathers would constantly flood your mind and you could never stop the constant blushing.

Mercedes peeked from around the kitchen partition; her eyes still sleepy from the nap she must have taken waiting for her. There is only ice in your cup; so you refill it, and you sip at the scotch.

"Hey Miss C. Is it okay for me to head out? Beth was out like a light since nine." She watched you swallow the rest of what was in your cup. "Or...I could stay until midnight if you think you'll need any help. How was your date?"

She sounded hopeful for you. You chuckled, refilling your glass.

"It went horribly. Lima's dating pool is lacking to say the least--"

"Yea I know what you mean."

"Oh do you now?" You were curious as to why a beautiful girl like Mercedes would have any trouble finding a boy who liked her.

"Well-- everyone I know is too immature for a relationship. They always want to be with someone but they don't understand the responsibility of it." Mercedes folded her hands at the counter and lifted onto a stool.

"And it doesn't help that it's hard to be bisexual in this town. Everyone is always so afraid of what other people might say."

You swallow another gulp of the drink you're having. You try not to notice the slight cleavage peeking from Mercedes's v-neck.

"You know that about yourself, already?"

Mercedes shrugged.

"I had 16 years to get to know myself. I think I've become very acquainted."

You nod, and you grab another glass from the rack on the counter and you mix Mercedes a drink. You don't expect her to take it; but she does, and throws it back like a champ before sliding the glass toward you.

"So why didn't your date work out, Miss C.?"

"Call me Shelby," your hand reaches out to Mercedes and lingers; and you watch her stare down at it like it were hot to touch. It hovers a while before you pull it away. "... and it went badly because he was utterly pompous and boring at the same time. And a bit too handsy for my liking."

Mercedes nods at her.

"Do you need to call your parents? Do you need a ride home, I can call you a taxi if you'd like?"

Mercedes bit her lip. You almost bite yours in reply-- you don't know where the tension is coming from but it's palpable.

"Do you mind if I stay here? I'll totally sleep on the couch-- if I go home tonight I'd be spoiling my parent's anniversary. I was supposed to go to Tina's but Mike is still over and well-- yea."

"I don't mind if you don't. And I have a spare guest room. So you don't even need to sleep on the couch. Would you like another?". You swish the liquor around for good measure and Mercedes' nods.

"Is this...okay? I mean I won't go telling everyone we had drinks but-- if anyone did find out I wouldn't want to get you in trouble--"

"Pish, posh Mercedes. You're a very mature young woman; I'm sure you can handle yourself just fine."

----

Mercedes Jones was definitely a happy drunk. Conversation led you both to the living room, and you began taking about things you couldn't imagine a teenager understanding. You traded the scotch for a mild red wine and you and Mercedes sat cross legged on the couch watching a movie about a teacher falling in love with her female student.

It was fitting for the situation.

You had given Mercedes an over sized t-shirt and some baggy shorts to sleep in; and you admired her curves as inconspicuously as you could without leering. You had changed into something a bit more comfortable- tossing aside underwear in lieu of the heat on your cheeks. The couch was comfortable and the wine was halfway gone by the time the first sex scene began playing on screen, and you watched Mercedes take in the scene to gauge for any odd behavior.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and your eyes immediately found an expanse of skin you wanted between your teeth. You refrained from action, opting instead to make yourself busy in the kitchen. You had to cool down before you did something stupid. It had happened before and you knew how easily a situation could become uncontrollable.

But at the same time you wonder if Mercedes is intentionally throwing you signals. You stop that thought and you will your body to shut down before you embarrass yourself. Sitting back down, the scene changes and once again you are staring at the blatantly lesbian sex happening on the screen. You sip at your coffee to sober up, and you watch Mercedes out of the corner of your eye.

The girl has a hand wedged between her thighs, and you can see her muscles clench desperately around her palm. You swallow the scathing liquid and you turn to the television just as the teacher's mouth envelopes a prky nipple.

"That looks like it would feel really nice.."

You are almost sure you made the comment up in your mind. When you turn to face her, her eyes are half lidded and she's biting her lip like she really wants what's happening to happen to her. And gosh if you aren't instantly hard when you see her arousal poking through the white t-shirt.

You swallow again, and you try to ignore the comment. You play a mantra in your head that she is a child and probably a virgin and you tell yourself to go to bed and leave her on the couch before you put your hand between her legs--

"Shelby what is that?"

It snaps you out of the pep talk you were giving yourself. Your cock is throbbing now, and you can't stop the make believe from running wild in your mind. Mercedes is staring at the bulge in your sweatpants, which is aiming up at her with a single dark spot where your precum has gathered. You grab a pillow and you cover yourself, hoping Mercedes just let's it go.

She does the opposite.

The girl snakes her hand beneath the pillow and squeezes you. Her hand feels tiny and your hips buck up and you push down the urge to bury yourself deep inside her.

This is inappropriate. But she continues to watch the movie with her hand securely squeezing your package and you pretend like nothing is weird about her working you up to full length.

"You're a very...curious girl, Mercedes..."

"Only sometimes, Shelby. I'd like to be a bit more bold but I'm not sure you're okay with that."

You listen out for Beth stirring. Or an alarm going off. Or anything that would stop you from letting Mercedes have her way. There is nothing-- no divine intervention no signs-- not anything.

So you let her pull the pillow back and tug your sweats down so that you spring forward; hard and thick and ready.

Mercedes looks like she doesn't know what to do. Your full of stress and you're sexually frustrated and you know this is wrong and you keep trying to get yourself to stop but then Mercedes leans over your shaft and she kisses it with her full lips and you're lost to the sensation.

You gather her hair and you guide her up and down your shaft until it's sloppy wet. You thank whoever taught her how to use your throat and you revel in the girl bent sideways on the couch sucking you off. When her lips ghost over the base of your cock you nearly explode; but instead you move your hand down her arched back until they are under the baggy shorts that you find ruined by how wet she is.

You slide your finger along her folds as she strokes up and down your shaft. The noise she makes are powerful on your ears and you can't tell how long you'll last if you let her keep going--but you're not sure how far she wants to go so you try to bask in the glory of Mercedes' mouth and tongue and throat and--

You pull away; trying not to spill over with your release, and you breathe until you've composed yourself. When you find Mercedes' eyes, they are dark. Her hair is tousled and her lips are plump only in the way lips can be after sucking something thick and hard.

"You sure you want to do this? Once I start we can't....there is no turning back."

Mercedes is leaning on the heels of her own feet. She nods definitely and she looks down at your cock; still wet and erect-- hot pink and hard and ready.

Nothing stopped you. You actually waited a beat for her to change her mind or for her parents to call or anything that would stop you from burying your dick inside a teenaged girl. Instead you moved to maneuver her; pushing her legs back enough to pull the shorts down and off; and you stare her straight in the eyes as you press two fingers to her clit and begin rubbing tight, soft circles over her over engorged nub.

She makes whimpering noises as you work her up-- and you can tell no one has gotten close to doing this for her--she is trying to stay quiet and she coos and mewls in ways that makes you want to be inside her immediately.

You bring the fingers to your mouth and you suck them clean, your eyes never leaving hers before diving mouth first into the dripping slick that is her sex. She stops the noise with a palm to her mouth and your hands wander across the expanses of firm muscle between her legs.

You devour her. She tastes like innocence and discovery-- something sweet and tangy that would remind you of her even after the taste faded from your tongue. You tried not to feel guilty; but soon her moaning grew and she began thrusting against your mouth until she froze; stiff and taunt, until her orgasm.

You could have stopped right there and been completely satisfied. You should have stopped right there but she was kissing you in ways that no adult ever had. Your hands were roaming down her sides and across the flimsy t-shirt-- across her hardened nipples. She mewled in your mouth and you suddenly wanted her naked. You reached for the hem of her shirt, you started to pull it over her head; but you stopped yourself-- you needed to collect your bearings.

"Mercedes have you ever...are you sexually active?"

She shook her head.

"Do you want to stop?"

She shook her head again. And bit her lip for good measure.

You wouldn't ask again. You lift her shirt up and off and you pull her over you as you kick your sweat pants down and off. Her breast is in your mouth and your suckling her left nipple in time to your moving hand thumbing her right. She throws her head back and you reach up to lavish in the expanse of neck covering her esophagus. She bucks over your shaft and leaves a trail of her arousal behind; you push her on her back then, unable to control the urges she evokes from your willing body.

"You ready?"

You see he swallow heavily; and she nods just as you align yourself with her entrance. Your breathing is sporadic and you try to control yourself from the frenzy building in your gut. You want to go slow and be careful and you don't want her to hurt--

"Fuck me, Shelby. I can take it. I want it to hurt so good--"

She chokes on the word when you slam inside her; one straight shot to the hilt. Tears gather in Mercedes eyes and she wraps her legs around you as you begin stroking. If she can't handle it; she wouldn't have asked. Mercedes is the tightest person you have ever been inside. Your legs shake but you forge backward, plowing into her as quietly as your action allowed. You didn't want to wake Beth. You didn't want to have to leave this tight wet delicious warmth.

The tears in Mercedes eyes fall, but she smiles up at you, and she begins reacting to your movement, clawing for more-- trying to get you deeper. There is a thick squish between your meeting bodies and you feel yourself sliding out of her each stroke-- the tightness relents but she suffocates you still until she is tumbling again over the edge.

She squeezes down on you so hard you'd be afraid of bruising if it didn't feel so damn good. The gush of wetness floods your lower half and forces you into an orgasm as well; one you would rather have put off to feel the inside of Mercedes from behind. But you empty into her gripping the edge of the couch; not phased at the fact that you came inside her. You can't get her pregnant.

When you pull away, she bears down until you watch your semen seep from inside her; sheening her sex with remnants of you. You kiss her, and you pull her close to you for sleep.

----

Things felt different this time than they had with Noah Puckerman. You hadn't wanted Mercedes gone immediately; you didn't mind that you woke up cuddled beside her. You showered and let her do the same as you tended to Beth, and you dropped her home before going to school. You were nervous that you hadn't had the chance to talk to her about what happened; if it would ever happen again, but the smile on her face seemed permanent; and she kissed you the cheek after checking who was watching despite the dark tint of your Ranger Rover windows.

School commenced and nothing seemed out of place--Mercedes threw you no seductive looks or clandestine signals. When the last bell rang you felt a little slighted; hoping Mercedes didn't think you didn't want to be with her again.

When she emerged in the choir room she had Tina with her. The petite Asian girl busied herself with something when Mercedes asked her the question.

"Do you need me to babysit again tonight, Miss Corcoran?

You smirked; admiring the physique of the girl.

"Actually; I thought we'd make it a weekly thing if you're okay with that. Speaking of which-- I forgot to pay you yesterday. Sixty dollars, right?"

Mercedes was blushing.

"That's quite alright Ms. C.-- you definitely paid me enough yesterday."

You nodded and watched Mercedes leave; excited about getting into certain positions with the girl once Beth went to sleep.

End.

#ShelCedes #Fanfiction #Promptfill #Practice #J Rease

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