angelgazing | for those who try to slow their minds with weed

Dear CSI: NY,

You know that part, that part where Mac was looking at the card and then Danny came in and their ~~lusty looks~~ conversation ended with Danny all "so... how're we?" and Mac all "I don't know" and then going to the place for the thing I'm not talking about because that would make it real? Yeah, that part? Was so texty. Not subtexty, oh no, it was TEXTY.

I LOVE YOU.

Yours in OTPness,
Me

--

Dear Mac,

Ok, so, like, I know we got off to a rocky start and everything. I know that I said some hurtful shit, but really, really it was just so you would, you know, get your head out of your ass. Now that you're ~~sleeping with Danny~~ ~~kicking ass and taking names~~ not so much with the Big Dramatic Past, well, I'd maybe like to apologize. Cause, you know, some of the things I said about you and--in the interest of honesty--your dead wife were, perhaps, uncalled for.

Also, I would so have had your baby tonight if you'd only have asked. And not done that thing at the end because that so wasn't what I meant by "get over it". The Danny thing though? Look into that. Please?

Love,
Me

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Dear Bunnies,

Listen, bitches, back the fuck off. I have shit to do. I can't write everything you throw at me when I have due dates! And a to-do list! And I'll get to Danny/Mac later dammit.

May you burn in hell,
Me

--

Dear Harry,

Stop being such a fucking child and let me finish this story or I'm going to have to cry. Do you want to be known as the Boy Who Made Girls Cry? DO YOU?!

Hate,
Me

--

Dear Rusty,

I'm not writing you with Charlie. Shut up. I have a ficathon and a due date fast approaching. I need you to not start demanding cracked out crossovers just because you know I think Charlie is pretty.

Let a girl have her OTPs, will you?

Sulkingly,
Me

--

Dear NY!Danny,

And same to you, pal.

Poutingly,
Me

--

Dear Fox,

A show by a Buffy writer, with a Firefly star as a character named Danny Love?

Fuck you. I'm so there, but I know I'm only going to hate you for it later. Shame me once and all that.

Wearily yours,
Me

--

Dear Tummy,

Hey, we used to be friends right? Remember those days when you liked food too? Weren't those good days?

Could you at least please not grumble at me when I do eat and when I don't? I'd appreciate it.

Longingly,
Me

for those who try to slow their minds with weed

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