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Oct. 5th, 2011

[Alfred practically vaulted over the back of the couch and out into the hall - Ivan could still hear him, and as zoned out as he was Alfred decided against risking it, so he hesitated in yelling Arthur's name as he looked for any sign of him-]

DR Continuation thread

[No porn, but to avoid being threadjacking assholes, continued from this thread.]


[Alfred huffs, running a hand through his hair as his expression shifts through several different flavors of unhappy. He was not known for his ability to hide his own emotions for a reason, after all. And as angry as he is - as angry as he ALWAYS is when Arthur has the trace of recently used magic on his soul - Alfred has never told anyone. Whether he was asked to keep that secret or not, he has kept it quiet for years. No matter how much it bothers him... and it very clearly does.

He also can't quite keep the worry out of his voice. Alfred wears his heart on his sleeve. Always has, probably always will.]

Were you hurt?

Sep. 7th, 2011

.... . .-.. .--.

There was a crack in the wall.

It had been there since he left.

Back then it was just a tiny crack though and he didn't really pay any attention to it. But now it was larger, at least the whole span of his hand, curved so that no light escaped out of it. He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter, that just meant it didn't go all the way through because that wall faced the outside, but somehow, some way...

He knew that was wrong.

.--. .-.. . .- ... .

Alfred thought about it all day.

He listened to missions of course, to debriefings, sat in on classes, tapped his pen against the desk.


He wasn't a student anymore but he still liked to learn, there wasn't anything wrong with that.


He sat at the back to keep from interrupting, but he knew that didn't matter. Some people hallucinated that everyone was talking about them when they were crazy. He knew he couldn't be crazy because he didn't think anything like that. He knew the truth. He was becoming invisible.

He was being erased.


.... . .-.. .--.

The crack was almost as long as his arm now. He could fit a finger in if he tried, and the air inside was ice cold - it was still black as pitch, even on a sunny warm day.

He covered it with his graduation certificate, tried to not think about it.

That was just fine fine fine until nightfall. Laying in bed and trying not to think about anything, his eyes drifted to the wall.

Two black spidery lines were creeping out from under the certificate.




Then it came.



Knock. Knock. Knock.

Again. The certificate fell to the floor, no more wall left to hold it up, a yawning black chasm where there was no right to be one.


He took aim and fired seven full rounds.

.--. .-.. . .- ... .

A few seconds later when school officials arrived to check on the commotion, they found Alfred standing over the broken plaster and wall, staring at the hole he created, arm spinning down and transforming back into a normal arm.

He gave them a wary if embarrassed smile.

"Dude there was this HUGE spider! It creeped me the fuck out man, sorry!"

On the ground what was left of his certificate was riddled with bullet-holes, almost entirely destroyed.

He was being erased.


Motherfucking hero up in this!
Alfred Francis Jones

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