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Title: Resolve
Author: Ruth Sadelle Alderson
Pairings: JC/Justin, Justin/Britney, JC/Britney, JC/Lance, Britney/Christina
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: They're not mine. This is not true. I will make no money off of this.
Summary: A liberated bunny. JC decided to give Justin a blow job.
Author's Note: All Melle's fault.


Resolve )
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"You want a hit?" JC asked, holding the joint out to Britney.

Britney fluffed her hair in the mirror and wrinkled her nose. "No."

JC laughed mockingly. "Of course not. You can't tarnish your good girl image."

Britney turned to glare at him. "Fuck off."

"You know," he drawled, "if you're serious about your image, you shouldn't go around telling people you and Justin," the name was said with a sneer, "had 'great sex.'" He took another hit off the joint. "Especially where the press can get a hold of it."

Britney draped herself across his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I wanted to tell them how great it was with you," she purred, "but they all think I'm with Justin." JC slipped a hand under her skirt and stroked the inside of her thighs. She squirmed happily. "I had to tell them it was him," she said with a pout.

JC pulled her close and kissed her. She choked on the smoke he breathed into her mouth and pushed him away.

He watched her in amusement, sliding his hand higher. "Can't handle a little smoke, princess?"

"Fuck you." She pushed his hand away and got off his lap to pace the room.

JC chuckled, watching her with heavy-lidded eyes. "Been there, done that." He breathed in more of the smoke from the joint. "You're more mine than Justin's."

Before she could answer, the door fairly flew open. "Chris says he heard the place is hopping," Justin informed them as he bounced over to smack a kiss onto Britney's cheek. "This is gonna be fun."

Britney smiled up at him and kissed his lips lightly. "They always are."

JC finished off his joint and came over to throw one arm around each of them. He kissed Justin's cheek. When he leaned over and did the same to Britney, he whispered, "Remember, princess, you're mine," against her cheek.
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Inspired by Katy.

She can see his shock when she takes off her bra. He knew they were implants, of course, but he didn't know what that really meant. He traces her scars with the fingers of one hand. Even she hasn't done that. She doesn't want to think about it.

He brushes his lips down over her breast and sucks on her nipple for a moment. When she doesn't make a sound, he asks, "Don't you like that?"

She looks away, turns her head to the wall. "I can't feel it."

He stands all the way up then, and cups her head in his hands. "My poor baby. What has this pop life done to you?" She wonders if he realizes how often he brings his lyrics into their space.

Knowing about her makes him gentle, tender. His hands are soft against her skin, his kisses soft against her lips. She doesn't want that. She wants it rough and hard. She wants him, with his jailbird haircut, to make sure she knows what he's doing to her. She wants him to make her feel it.

She hasn't felt anything since that day her mother said, "You're growing up now, and sometimes nature needs a little help." She was so trusting, so innocent. Whatever her mom says must be true.

And then this. These. She still can't think about it, can't touch them, can't even look at them in the mirror. It cost a lot. She used her Mickey Mouse money. Ironic somehow that Disney paid for her breasts. She paid the doctor a lot of money, but most of it was to keep him quiet. They hurt. They're ugly. She's scarred. She doesn't feel like herself anymore. She'd have them removed if she could, but she has no wish to become the next Pamela Anderson.

Justin strokes her skin the way a four-year-old heeds the warning to "be gentle" when he pets a kitten. It's soft. It doesn't penetrate. She can barely feel it.

She wants to feel.
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Title: Revolution
Author: Ruth Sadelle Alderson
Pairing: Justin/Britney
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: This hasn't, to my knowledge, happened.
Summary: After the Teen People photo shoot, Justin and Britney switch clothes and don't have sex.
Author's Note: You wouldn't believe how easy this was to write.


Revolution )
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Molly pointed me in the direction of Fake!Britney's journal. She was far too amusing not to friendify, and then I went about reading other Fake!Celeb journals. Some of them are excruciatingly boring. Like Mandy Moore, for instance. Others, however, like Britney and Christina are quite amusing. I'm trying to matchmake Britney and Christina, and Christina seems to be playing along.

And to think, I'm still only 11% Teenybopper. Good thing they didn't ask if you'd ever started a list for the "Teen Blondes."
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In the waiting room of Student Death (also known as the James A. Taylor Student Health Service), I picked up a copy of People magazine with the headline "The Plot to Kidnap Russell Crowe" emblazoned on the front cover. I, of course, chose to read about said plot to kidnap Russell Crowe. Tthe idea behind kidnapping Russell Crowe is not merely so that one may say that one has successfully kidnapped Russell Crowe and now has him in one's possession, but rather so that one may demand a ransom for the safe return of Russell Crowe, which brings to mind the following question: Who would want him back? This is neither as cruel nor as trivial as it first seems. Collecting ransom is not some arbitrary third party action; someone, some concrete person, has to pay the ransom. Presumably the money would ultimately come out of Russell's own bank account, but who would be the person fronting it in the first place? He has no wife, no children, no girlfriend, no boyfriend (that we know of). He says he was a disappointment to his parents, and although I'm sure they love him and would want him back, would they be able to get to the money? Perhaps Joaquin Phoenix would front the money, or Ridley Scott. The best bet, however, is that his accountant would cut the check under the assumption that it would be an approved expense.

Before the Oscars, I, and many other people with television sets, saw the commericals for Britney Spears' Pepsi commercial. During the Oscars, the semi-hyped (I wasn't aware of more hype than the previous commercials, the reports of just how many millions of dollars she's getting out of the whole deal, and the gossip that Britney herself is a Coke drinker, not surprising as she's a Southern girl) commercial aired for the first time. It's an awful ad. Not only does it fit right into Britney's pattern of selling herself as a sex object first, last and only, but the commercial itself is badly done. The dance routines are hardly exciting, the words that are supposed to be coming out of Britney's mouth are not synchronized with the movement of said mouth, and even the supposedly humorous scene of the diner cook letting the stove burn as he watches the commercial is not funny. The commercial is not, however, completely without its good points. Britney does look healthier than usual, and the Bob Dole bit at the end of some versions is rather amusing.

Speaking of Britney, there is a picture of her and Justin Timberlake in the same issue of People as the Russell Crowe kidnapping plot. While I can't stand NSync, I do find Justin marginally interesting as one of Britney's accessories. It is great fun to write stories in which she dumps him for being the spineless, boring, stupid boy he most likely is. Nette and I are still looking for interesting people to pair her with. Although Eminem and Christina Aguilera are both viable prospects, we'd like to give her someone less fucked up than Eminem, and I can't seem to write Christina without having her want Fred Durst.

Thanks to Nette, who found things out at Metal Sludge, I am now quite enamored of Scott Ian of Anthrax (the band, not the disease) and VH-1's The Rock Show fame. I love him for his brain, truly I do. He's smart. He's Jewish. He's shaved his head. What more could you want in a rock star to admire? Ah yes, the music. I listened to Anthrax clips at CDnow (I honestly don't have Napster), and liked them. I'm very slow about deciding to buy CDs, but Anthrax is definitely now on my list of things to buy. Scott Ian is doubly wonderful because he's friends with Metallica. Anthrax and Metallica even lived in the same, run-down, old building in New York in the early 80s. Even to this day, Scott and Kirk are friends and Scott even commented on Jason's departure from the band saying, among other things, "People should do what drives their passion. I know Jason. He's incredibly passionate about his music and metal. And he's probably thinking, I gotta do what I gotta do. I gotta move on."

I made the mistake of watching most of the made-for-ABC version of South Pacific. I saw the play produced by the late, lamented (by me, at least) Chico City Light Opera years and years ago, so many years ago, in fact, that I barely remember it. All I could recall was the line "I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair." In the made-for-ABC version, the song is rendered even more ironic by Glenn Close's very close-cropped hair, although that may be in the original script. Quite possibly the worst bit in the whole movie (that I paid attention to, anyway) is the scene in which Bloody Mary pimps out her daughter to a Lieutenant, and after having sex with her once, he imagines himself in love. He will not, of course, marry her. It's that kind of play.
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Title: Drive Me Crazy
Authors: Ruth Sadelle Alderson and Larissa
Pairing: Lars Ulrich/Britney Spears
Rating: NC-17 for smutty hetsex involving Lars and Britney.
Disclaimer: Let's all sing the disclaimer song, shall we? They don't belong to us, we don't belong to them, and if you think this happened, well, you'd better check again.
Summary, courtesy of Amatia: Britney loses her virginity to Lars. Run while you can.
Warnings: Explicit underage sex and swearing. Be warned.
Authors' Notes: We were watching the American Music Awards where LL Cool J was lusting after Britney, which is just wrong. We had to fix things. Lars lusting after Britney is nowhere near that level of wrong.


Drive Me Crazy )
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Title: Arms to Be My Shelter
Author: Ruth Sadelle Alderson
Pairing: Britney Spears/Christina Aguilera
Rating: FRAO for f/f interaction.
Disclaimer: Not mine; didn't happen.
Summary: Britney comes to visit Christina after a long day of filming.
Author's Note: Thanks to Nat for reading this and telling me that the ending works.


Arms to Be My Shelter )
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I'm hoping it's only the time change, but for some reason, I couldn't sleep last night. I finally did fall asleep, some time after 2:30, but then I woke up about half an hour early. I would just put it down to the night before the first day of classes oddness, but I couldn't sleep a couple of nights ago, so I'm a bit disturbed.

Part 1

Anyway, as I wasn't sleeping, Britney was in my head, as a possible continuation of the previous snippet, saying, in response to something Em might have said, "I don't fuck. I do everything but--touch, suck and I'll sure as hell let a guy eat me out--but I don't fuck."

Of course, then Em comes over and stands over her and trails a finger down her breast and says, "Will you suck me?"

"Only if you'll go down on me first."

Em shakes his head. "I've learned that lesson. You suck me off first." When she hesitates, he adds, "I'll touch you while you do."

That, of course, decides her.

And that, I think, is quite enough insight into my fantasy life for the moment.
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No ranting today. I had an idea for a fic, and I thought I might as well write it here since that's what everyone else does. While I would not jump off a cliff if everyone else did, I do have a LiveJournal because everyone else does, so it seems appropriate.

If you didn't know, some time ago, Eminem lost his lyrics notebook. He had to put out a plea for help in hope that someone, somewhere would find it and return it. This means he had to admit that his lyrics notebook has Britney Spears on the cover. So my idea: Britney hears about it and pays a little visit to Em.

"So," she says, leaning in his doorway, "you're not as antagonistic as you seem."

He's packing, or, more likely, unpacking, and she startles him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

She shrugs and comes into the room. "I heard about your notebook and thought I'd come see how you're doing."

He huddles in on himself defensively. "I'm fine."

She picks a shirt up off a chair and tosses it on the floor, clearing herself a place to sit. She sits sideways, throwing her legs over one arm of the chair, showing herself off. "Sure you are. All your creative input lost, and you have to admit to the world that your lyrics notebook has my picture on the cover." She examines one nail. "That's got to be a blow to your image."

That's all I've got thus far, and that's more than I thought I was going to write here. Maybe it will become a story one day.

Although I chose to do this because everyone else does, I didn't italicize it. It's not that I don't know the correct HTML to do that, but rather that the snippet is just a part of the journal, and I don't think I need to set it off. If you can't figure out that what I just wrote is a figment of my imagination, you're probably not old enough to be using the Internet.

Part 2

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