Hi there, Santa!
Thank you so much for signing up for the Seekrit Santa fic exchange! Rest assured, you are a lucky critter to have drawn me, because I am ridiculously easy to please. I'll probably be pretty thrilled with whatever you decide to write, and chances are I'll respond to your story with a big hunk o' feedback full of adjectives and
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I'm not sure I can hang out with you anymore. Or if you'll want to hang out with me. Because I requested angst, swear to god. Angst and no Ray Vecchio wingfic.
IDEK. My brain is a strange place.
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But if you can still love me despite my affection for sappy holiday kidfic? Well, we might just make it, kiddo!
(Hi, hi! I miss you!)
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Well, I thought I did, but now I find out about this seekrit kidfic schmoop kink of yours. I'm reconsidering all those assumptions about amputation being your favorite plot device ever.
I suppose I can overlook it, since you're otherwise universally awesome. Except for the being TOO FAR AWAY, so that I can't drag you to a million concerts that are better than a Dave Matthews cover band.
(Hi! I miss you, too! How're things in the Great White North?
Spencer Smith shaved his beard into a pornstache and a soul patch, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave bandom over the sheer horror of it.)
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And word on the too-far-awayness. We really need to look at that whole, "moving the border closer" plan. Or the "shrinking the continent" plan. Either one. Because I really, really would like to go to a concert. I went to see Swell Season! It was fabulous! So now I've been to two concerts! \nos/
Well, okay, three, if you count the Dave Matthews Band Cover Band, which I do not. Seeing that homeless guy peeing in the bottle was the best part of the concert.
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