SOS SAS
Alex just sat there, staring at Blunt, hoping that he had gone mad. Blunt had had some pretty bad ideas, but this took the biscuit.
It was a warm Sunday afternoon, and Christmas break was coming up in a month or two. The last thing he needed was to be here, of all places.
"Sorry," he apologised, "but I think I heard you wrong. The SAS. In my
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And yeah. Sure. Why not. They used to be good. Until I grew brains and the mistakes pissed me off endlessly.
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At the very least put in the fact I wrote it. Not you. Me ¬¬
Damn you, traitorous Beta.
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My LJ. You left the door open. My plot lines. DEAL.WITH.IT.FUTCHAMUCKER.
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I don't care about whether it's your LJ or not. You can either put up the fact I wrote it, not you, or I will refuse to update again ¬¬
*sighs* soon you Betas will be wanting Unions and rights!
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I will. Next time. It's too hard to edit.
And a bed to sleep on.
AND A PAY TO RULE GIRLS. I CANT WORK LUNCH THE UNION GIRLS UNION! AND WHAT IF THERE'S A LIGHTENING STRIKE!?!?!? WHAT THEN?!?! WE'LL MISS SO MUCH CLASS.
That is how I'm greeted every Maths class.
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