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September 3rd, 2015

Sep. 3rd, 2015

Last yearalyse and I made the decision to have Hermiod hang up his little santa hat, and put the Asgardian reindeer out to pasture*. This was done with a heavy heart, as we had ten awesome years of wonderful joy**.

Indeed, only a week ago, I was opening up old spreadsheets and wondering what it was going to be like not spending hours trying to match someone who wants Carson Beckett dressed as a sheep while romancing Steven Caldwell with the writer brave enough*** to tackle such a request.

"It's going to be a cold, lonely Christmas..." I softly sang to myself****.

But then, just when things seemed at their bleakest, Alyse and I were both contacted. There was a light***** in the distance, drawing in weary travellers with offers of fic and glee and hope.

Yes, there is a new fest starting in the tradition of SGA Santa.

http://sga-secretsanta.livejournal.com/

Support them, love them, give them your prompts and write them your fic.

SGA Secret Santa rides again!


* And do you know how much of a bugger it is to find a field big enough to handle Asgardian reindeer? Not easy, let me tell you.
** Well, we had nine awesome years, and that one we don't like to talk about in public because it makes Claire's eye twitch.
*** And by brave enough, I mean with enough alcohol and brain bleach to see them through to the other side.
**** It's at this point I feel the need to admit that it wasn't good singing. It was breathy and pitchy and the kind of singing that made the cat look at me in utter disgust******.
***** But not over at the Frankenstein place.
****** This, however, is pretty much how my cat looks at me in general, so it may not have been the singing.

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