Perfectly Imperfect

Grace from H50 will forever be 'Monkey' to me, because that's what Danny calls her. When I think Monkey, I think Grace.

So, then the other day, I was watching Tom Hardy do an interview and the person doing the interview brought up Hardy's fiance, Charlotte Riley, and when he turned around to look at the picture that had popped up on the screen behind them, he blurted out a delighted little 'Monkey!'

And now I want fic where an older Grace takes home her new boyfriend Tom Hardy (or I suppose one of his characters, I'm not particularly picky) to meet Danno and Steve.

Somebody who is not me needs to write this.

I kind of really want to write a Chin/Max fic. I'm secretly convinced that Chin is bizarrely fascinated by Max, especially after finding out about him saving up for six months to pay for testing on a sliver of wood (♥ you're creepily adorable, Max), and will eventually corner an oblivious Max in the autopsy room and go all quietly amused, smoldering alpha male on him. Every time they're in the same room together I end up wanting to write fic about them, but I never get around to it. Someday. Someday.

Also, I'm seriously behind on responding to comments. I'm not trying to ignore anyone. My social anxiety's just been all sorts of rearing its head this past week. I'll try to force it down to a mild panic and respond to everything I've missed tomorrow. Sorry! Please don't stop loving me? *makes puppy dog eyes*

I WANT TO HAVE THIS MAN'S BABIES.


GET THE HELL OUT OF THAT WATER AND START DOING UNSPEAKABLE THINGS TO ME ALREADY. OR DO THEM TO ME IN THE WATER. I'M NOT A FAN OF SAND, BUT I'M WILLING TO NOT BE EVEN A LITTLE PICKY.

Title:10th Avenue Freeze Out 
Author: coffeebuddha
Rating: PG-13/FRT
Characters/Pairing: Steve, Danny
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
Word Count: 208
Summary: Some things are sacred.
Notes: Originally posted as a comment fic here. ( Read more... )

Title: Just For Reference
Author: coffeebuddha
Rating: R/FRM
Characters/Pairing: Steve/Danny
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
Word Count: 619
Summary: "Ever think about getting another one," Danny asks, his voice still rough with sleep. Steve blinks, and since his entire world has pretty much narrowed down to 'Danny' and 'cock' it takes him a minute to figure out he's talking about the tattoo.
Notes: Originally posted as a comment fic here.
( Read more... )

Since I had so much fun doing it last week, I'm doing another comment fic post tonight. If you prompt it, I'll write something for it. Any of the fandoms on my list are up for grabs, as are scenes from the big bangs I'm working on right now (yes, that is directed at you, topetine).

My muse has been completely and utterly dead lately. This wouldn't be that big of a deal except that I just signed up for three big bangs and still have about a dozen projects that I need to just get done already. So, in the interest of kicking my lazy muse in the ass, I'm opening the floor for some comment fics tonight. If you prompt it, I'll write something for it. Let's get this party started!

Apparently I'm a masochist. In the last 24 hours I've signed up for three big bangs. I don't know why I thought that was a good idea, but...yeah. Sign ups are still open for all of them. Artists are especially needed across the board, so don't be deterred if you don't want to tackle the writing side for whatever reason. The Hawaii Five-O big bang is a minimum of 10k words, Criminal Minds is 15k, and the Sci-fi and Fantasy one is 25k.


Because there isn't any Tesla/Henry fic around.

Also, the link is now working over at the cmfanficawards. Head over here if you want to vote and thank you again to whoever nominated me! You guys have no idea how much that means to me. ♥

For dinner, I had a turkey, chicken, and brie sandwich accompanied a plastic cup of Arbor Mist wine. Calling Arbor Mist legitimate wine is like calling that skeevy guy at the mall who offers to take your pictures in his basement so that he can show them to his 'friend, the agent' a legitimate photographer.

Once my cup was empty, I realized there was not nearly enough alcohol in my system, so I poured myself a second cup of Arbor Mist 'wine', this time spiking the somewhat questionable sangria with some peach schnapps. Guys. Guys. It's like there's a fruit cocktail party in my mouth. Hee. Cock. XD Ignore me, I'm a twelve year old boy when I'm drunk. Or, well, when I'm sober. Pretty much all the time, really.

So! So, I'm nearly done with my second cup and I'm thinking a third cup is in order, because maybe it'll finally get me out of my self pitying slump and back to writing. That's what the greats do, right? Get wasted before they try and write? Eh, let's just go with that anyway.

Also! It's so super not fair that I'm still years-not many, mind you, but enough to be in the plural-away from being even twenty-five and I already have gray hairs. What's up with that, genetics I got from my dad's side of the family?

I be classy, yo. Don't let anyone try and tell you differently.

To Do List for the Night!

1. Read thing and give feedback. You know what you are, thing. Sorry I didn't read you last night. I was busy curling up around my heating pad and wondering why my room was so cold. But don't worry, you're getting the shit read out of you tonight, and I'm going to feed you back so good that you'll be feeling it for a week.

2. Write porn. Because I owe people porn, and I feel super bad about those people not having their porn yet.

3. Write angst. Because angst is like sweet nectar from the gods to me. I need your tears to live. They taste so very sweet. *insert creepy laugh here*

4. Respond to comments. This can actually go anywhere in tonight's timeline. Responses be flexible, yo!

5. Remind myself that I'm whiter than bread and have absolutely no street cred and need to stop acting like I do. Fo shizzle.

6. Watch random scenes from Hawaii 5-0 and cry myself to sleep because I'll never be that skinny/pretty/tan/badass. And also because they apparently have something against Chin taking his shirt off. Seriously, guys. Seriously. We aren't going to complain if he strips a little. Or a lot. We could go for that.