(no subject)

[bubosquared]

Dear Nathan, Cooper, Throttle, Vinnie, Beckett, Ed, Senator Palpatine, and all the random people I wrote slash about during the first four years of my slash career,
I'm so, so, so very sorry for putting you through that horror. I don't even have the excuse of being young. Argh.

Dear Lars Ulrich,
I'm sorry for using you for comic relief, but dude, you got to bite James in the balls. That's gotta be worth something.

Dear Kirk Hammett,
I'm sorry for never writing you much. I do like you, but you're just not fucked-up enough to fascinate me.

Dear Jason Newsted,
Actually, I don't think I've done anything to you I should be apologising for. Do you?

Dear James Hetfield,
Um. I'm really sorry about making Lars bite your crotch. And about making you a sadist, raping asshole. And having Em castrate, blind and kill you. ... Sorry?

Dear Eminem,
I'm sorry about the rape thing. But you got your revenge, right? Even if you did go insane in the process. Um, yeah. Not helping, am I?

Dear Fred Durst,
Sorry for making Em go insane.

Dear U2,
I'd apologise, but I only ever wrote two stories about you lot, both of which were mostly sweet, and I also spent quite a bit of money on you lot, so forget it. Larry? I am sorry about making you a woman, even if it was just in two snippets.

Dear boybands,
Sorry about the glitter thing. And the cross-dressing. Not sorry about making you smart, though. Well, about making most of you smart. Justin, I'm sure you can do maths.

Dear Terence, Marcus and Oliver,
I'm sorry about making you have sex with each oth-- Wait, what am I apologising for?

Dear Lee and Marcus,
Er, yes, sorry about all that war stuff. And about the fact that you'll probably die in the end.

Dear Draco,
I'm sorry about sending you to Cuba, all right? I do empathise with your plightn, I hate the heath too.

Dear Harry,
Sorry that you're so fucked-up, yo.

Dear Lee,
I'm sorry I keep slacking and letting my kitchen become a sty. I'm sorry I blame you for my desire for dreads and for my cooking-obsession. I'm sorry about all the times I yelled "MARRIED" at you and George. (And dude, seriously, thanks for being my happy place.)

Dear Harry,
I'm sorry about all the times I yelled at you and called you an idiot. I'm sorry for making you such a basket case.

Dear Ilyssa,
I'm sorry you had to suffer through the mental images of Bill and Lucius having sex. I'm sorry for lusting after you even though you live in my head.

Dear Terence,
I'm sorry I gave you a pretty fucked-up life. In my defense, I didn't mean to.