Hey guys, as some of you may have noticed I took down my RPF's from livejournal... well, I didn't so much take them down, I locked the entries. If anyone is interested in them I'm willing to share them as PDF files, so if you want them please don't shy away from dropping me a message with your email address and I'll send them.

Love
Selina

Friday. Usually I like Fridays. Fridays rock. This one? Not so much. My sister and her boyfriend (now ex-boyfriend) broke up after 2 years and the little on is devastated, has cried all night. Luckily I didn't get to see it - mom told me. I felt my eyes water just imagining the pain my baby sister is in. 16 years is just too young to have your heart broken. I'll see her later but am already wondering if she will tell me what happened. My mom asked me not to tell her that I already know.

My aunt is at the hospital, had a operation on her spine. I'll visit her later although I hate hospitals and do my damnest to get around having to enter one. I was in a hospital twice. Once when I was born and once more when I was about 9 or 10 years old because I ate something poisonous that grew on a tree or bush or something... I can't quite remember.

I have a cousin who's physically disabled, something with his hip/leg. It's bad, but people can barely tell if they don't know. However, back then I was watching him for about a year because my aunt and uncle had to work and Dennis wasn't able to go to school for months and once he could go he needed someone in the morning and afternoon. They asked me to do it because they didn't want some stranger taking care of their kid. Dennis has become something like a little brother for me. At some point he had to have another operation and of course I visited him at the hospital every day... I think that's what makes it so hard for me these days. Seeing that poor child in that hospital bed, barely able to move and when he had physiotherapy he was just crying from pain... you sit there watching, unable to do something. I grew to hate hospitals then. Just the thought of it makes me panic in a weird way.. I can't even describe it.

I feel like sitting here on my couch all day. I feel like doing nothing for once. Nothing.

Probably there won't be an update for the next 1-2 weeks... I just don't have the time and I'm thinking about where to go with this. I hope you understand.

xoxo

Burger King's delivery service is awesome... so unhealthy but sooooo good.

having that smile on my face... can't stop it. at the same time I'm totally out of it. At least that's what my co-workers + my mom say. ooooookay. Ready for the shrink.

guys, I'll update soon... maybe even tonight, not sure yet. We have a french bulldog puppy so he took up pretty much all of my time and I didn't have a minute to write. Today I finished chapter 11, finally.

Title: Crashing
Author: Georgia_v_g
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Not really... but well... Zebras

Just a little something. Stupid really. Meaningless. Really.

He’s sitting at his desk, typing away on the damn keyboard and she can’t do anything but stare at him. Stare at him with his stern facial expression, furrowed brow and all. He’s refusing to look at her even though he knows that she’s staring and waiting for him to throw her a glance just so she can jump on it and throw in her comment of how much he’s avoiding her. He knows better than that.

Her gaze drifts to his shoulder, his upper arms. He’s all sinew and muscle, hard like a rock and she’s just like the sea crashing into him and deflecting off him just as hard. She knows this. She’s been there.

She bites her lower lip, her incisors piercing the soft flesh and just as the pain is evident in her eyes she stops biting down, releasing her abused lip. She wants him so damn much that it hurts.

His ring finger slams the Return key and she knows he’s done but he stares at the monitor, determined not to let her win this battle.

It’s stupid and they both know but they’re that twisted. He feels her staring right through him, through all the layers of clothing, skin, flesh and bones. She’s right there under his skin, implanted in his being. She’s so much like him. Just as angry, just as fucked-up but they deal.

She knows they’re not good for each other. He pulls her down with his bullshit and at some point she blows up in his face. She’s always the one to save him and when there’s no more saving on the job she saves him from himself.

Just last week she has saved his ass, saved his good-for-nothing life for the umpteenth time. Ever since then they played their game of ‘look and don’t look’.

She said things. She knows she meant it. He does, too. And that’s where they’re running in circles ‘cause she would never admit and he would never tell.

She notices that she stopped breathing and inhales deeply, taking her eyes off of him.

He knows she’s pissed and the words are sitting on the tip of her tongue but she won’t say them, she won’t.

He knows it’s there and she’s trying to convince herself it’s not but when it comes down to it they both know it’s the inevitable. One day he will crash into her like a rock into the sea.

Title: Late at night
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did they'd have much more fun.
Summary: Elliot's nights after Wildlife

It’s stupid, really. How every night I think of her I have a raging hard-on. How my dick is throbbing with desire before I even touched it. Just that picture in my head, that memory of her in a bra, purring those words that meant more than she could know. “Are you ready for me daddy?”

Fuck it. If it wasn’t for the situation, if it wasn’t for us having had company I would have taken her then and there.  Up against the wall. On the bed.

I stroke the length of me slowly, close my eyes. See her. Really see her. My hand’s grip on my dick is firm as I kiss her. Hard. Wet. I’m bruising her lips, suck the lower one. I can hear her moan. I can hear it clearly. I rub my cock faster, up and down, up and down. Time and time again. Just kissing her won’t do. I need to have her. All of her. I skip the part where I rip the few clothes off her body. Fast forward to her lying on the bed, legs spread, inviting me to play. To do whatever I want to her.

I come down, nestle in between her legs. Staring. Just staring. She looks different down there than Kathy. Her clit is bigger, her inner labia has a darker shade of pink. It’s beautiful. The most beautiful pussy I have ever seen. I can’t help but groan and it comes out louder than I anticipated.

I hear Kathy shifting, mumbling something in her sleep. I stop dead for a few seconds.  Don’t wake up. Not now. As I’m sure she’s still sound asleep next to me I pick up my task again. Stroking. Squeezing. Imagining.

My breath is rapid. I feel my dick growing even harder. I had no idea that this is possible. I’m running my index finger through her folds. The slightest touch, before I bury it into her. I’m losing my mind because she’s so wet. It’s like I’m dipping my finger into an ocean of warmth. She’s moaning, making sounds I never heard from her mouth. She’s begging me. Begging. Me. I lower my mouth to her center. Smell her. It’s intoxicating and I cannot wait. So I close my lips around the bundle of nerves, feel her, press my tongue against her. And god, she tastes good. I push a second finger into her, pick up on the speed, plunge harder into her and she’s whimpering, begging, tightening around me and I fucking know I’mma come. The blanket above me is rising and falling with my rhythm and…

“Elliot!” Her shrill voice makes me stop in my tracks. I breathe out. Keep my eyes closed. The image is gone. Just like that.

“I can’t believe you.”, Kathy whispers appalled. “Are you serious? Really?”

I let go of my dick that is semi-hard. I don’t answer her. She doesn’t say anything either.

“Go back to sleep”, I tell her. I’m an asshole, I know that. I should be apologizing, especially because she had offered herself as we went to bed. Offered me to take her. I didn’t want to. Truth is, ever since I’ve seen Olivia like that, in a bra, flirting with me, ready for me to have her I couldn’t really get it up. Not for my wife.

I see her shake her head in disbelief. At least I think I do.

“That all you have to say? What’s wrong with you?” She’s mad. Of course she is. I can’t blame her.

“It was nothing.”, I hear myself say.

“Right. Nothing. You won’t touch me but once I’m asleep you jack off. That really sounds like nothing.”, she states. Her voice gained volume but she isn’t yelling. She won’t. The kids.

“I don’t wanna talk about this now, Kathy.”, I tell her. Of course I don’t. What can I possibly say? Sorry, but you’re not really turning me on anymore. See, I love you, but I don’t wanna fuck you. Jacking off with Olivia on my mind is much more fun.

“Do you ever.”, she hisses under her breath.

I don’t comment on that. She keeps quiet, too. And at some point she goes back to sleep. As do I.

So this is G
Title: Green
Rating: Some language. not much.
Notes: Not mine. 
Summary: I have no idea. You'll know when you read it.  I don't know why I wrote this. I don't even know if it makes sense. Suddenly it was just there.

Green

This is green. It must be fucking green. Fine, there’s a slight shade of blue. It could be turquoise.  But judging from the first look it’s fucking green. Green like the leaves of a tree. Or grass. Grass is green. Not that I ever see much of it. I see gray. Black. Pavements. Tar. Hot black tar. But this is green. It is. Maybe turquoise. I wonder if pharmaceutical companies do that shit on purpose. Give pills some stupid colouring so those poor wackos start philosophizing about it. About greens and blues and turquoises. As if it would keep anyone from eating that shit. Kill themselves. It won’t stop anyone from trying to figure out if 20 pills are enough not to wake up again before they decide that it’s safer to pop the whole bottle’s content. Just to make sure. Because if not you might wake up a day later, knowing you royally fucked up. And that’s even more depressing than just dying. After philosophizing. Not that I do. I’m not philosophizing, analyzing or fantasizing. I’m just trying to make a point. My point being: pills should be white. Just white. It’s not like they make you happy just because they’re yellow, pink, brown, red or green. So why is this green? Sorry, turquoise. We agreed on turquoise. Because it’s not blue. You’re a fucking turquoise pill. I got it. I will keep that in mind, really. No more slips. I will stop thinking of blues and greens. Now. Really. Right now.

Her eyes – those were blue. Not ocean blue. Or royal blue. Maya blue doesn’t match it either. Dodger blue. That one is close. Really close. But it’s still not it. Maybe I am phiolosophizing. Am I? God. I’m fucked up. I’m really fucked up. And I think I’m having a headache. It’s throbbing and I think I can hear it. It’s like a buzz. I shouldn’t have downed that bottle of whisky. Alcohol is a fucking pain in the ass. It’s no solution. But no alcohol ain’t no solution, either. Do I sound like a child? Like a fucking teenager? Does it even matter? Alcohol may be a pain in the ass but it kept me from falling apart, didn’t it? I’m not falling apart. Sure it made me sentimental. I’m not really sentimental. It had me crying like a baby, sobbing so hard that I wasn’t even breathing anymore. Okay, I was breathing. It was erratic and loud and heavy. Truth is, I had been crying before. But that was silent. Just a few tears slipping out of the inner corners of my eyes, tracing my cheeks. But the alcohol made it all come out. The first half of the bottle anyway. After that I started feeling numb. Really numb. When you think about it it’s actually kinda depressing. Cause numb is that point where nothing matters anymore. All the feeling is gone. The floor isn’t really cold anymore, my ass doesn’t hurt like it did three hours ago from sitting on the hard wood. I should get fucking carpets. Fucking green carpets. Or blue. Turquoise. Wait. I don’t need carpets anymore. I’m past that. I don’t bargain.

I should just pop those fucking pills right now. Just get it over with. But it’s so good not to feel anything. It’s so good just to stare at the green that’s sitting on my palm. To think and then forget what the hell it was I thought about. It’s that special kind of calm. Almost blissful. It’s quiet and except for the hammering in my head and that churning in my stomach it feels kinda good.

It’s liberating, that feeling as if you’re floating on air. My eyelids are heavy. I have to close them. Just for a second. A moment. It’s good. It’s better. Maybe I could stay like this way for a while. Just leaning against the kitchen counter. I’m sleepy. Just sleepy. For a moment I want to stop thinking, stop sitting, staring, remembering. I shouldn’t. But I can’t fight it. I know when morning comes the sun will hit my face. I’m past the point of opening my eyes again. My hand is no longer holding the pill. Exhaustion takes over my body. Sleep is here. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.