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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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d e v o n

JVL

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@allamericancaptain
This account has been remade and the character reworked! If you would like the URL, please message me!
Okay.
I can barely get on this account anymore?
A lot of stuff happened here that I didn't like. Hell, a lot of stuff happened in this fandom in general that I didn't like. I wish I could remake this whole character.
I feel like Alfred is just somebody who I personally wouldn't want to be; and it's not a matter of playing someone new who's their own person, and it wouldn't be a matter of whether I like them or not.
Getting on here makes me feel like shit. Because I feel like people judge me due to the things that Alfred does.
And there are people here who would be much happier if I just stayed away. You don't need to raise hands or say "no", I know that they're there because they have told me so. And that's fine. Not everybody has to like me.
But I am so unhappy with this character, I'm so paranoid about this community, and I just want to stay away for a while.
This account is going on hiatus.
Which means that there's a good chance that I will be back. I might want to develop Alfred more, try to change him... and there are people here that I love. I adore my followers and I thank you for standing by for so long.
But I need to get away. I don't want to feel pressured to come on here.
So this is my notice.
I'm sorry that Alfred isn't canon and I'm sorry that I can't create a better portrayal. I'm sorry that I don't want to be here right now and that I'm happier somewhere else.
I'm sorry to all of the people I don't talk to anymore.
Most of you have my Skype, but a lot of you don't.
I'm very, very sorry.
What on earth is happening with Peter?
Alfie...
Stuff happened, and we ended up back together. I don’t know how it happened either. But it just kinda… did.
I’ve been trying to talk to him. Every time I try to even be nice, he doesn’t listen to me or respond. I know he doesn’t like being called a brat, but when I told him my side of the story, he wouldn’t listen. So I don’t know what to do…
I... suppose that's good, then.
What is the story? Explain.
Alfie...
[She takes a deep breath]
I’m gettin’ that weird feeling that no one needs me anymore. Like they’ve all moved on… Plus other things. Boyfriend things… I might of fallen in love with someone else. And I don’t want to do anything to hurt my boyfriend. But I love this guy a lot, and I see him a lot more. He makes me smile… Then Peter and I got into a fight, and he said he didn’t want to talk to me anymore. So I told him to not call me Auntie anymore. And now I regret that.
I thought that you and your partner had hit a rough patch and agreed to separate?
As for Peter... he is a child and cannot always be held accountable for what he says. Perhaps you should sit down and have a talk with him. He's not so young as to not comprehend what's going on. If you tell him that you're having trouble right now, he'll probably understand.
Alfie...
…. Can we talk?
Of course.
*sits, crossing his legs*
[She sits down next to him, ad lays against his side]
I don’ know what to do…
[His arm comes up, wrapping around her shoulders; he rubs small circles in one arm with a thumb.]
Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.
[She looks at him, before looking back down at her lap]
Where do you want me to start…?
Wherever you feel comfortable. You can go back and fill in the rest later.
I’m not sexually frustrated, I’m sexually FURIOUS *punches hole in wall*
Alfie...
…. Can we talk?
Of course.
*sits, crossing his legs*
[She sits down next to him, ad lays against his side]
I don’ know what to do…
[His arm comes up, wrapping around her shoulders; he rubs small circles in one arm with a thumb.]
Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong.
[3/2/13 11:37:21 AM] Alfred Valjones: before u think i am stoling this english ship let me explain u a thing
Alfie...
…. Can we talk?
Of course.
*sits, crossing his legs*
Les Mis AU.
Peter had, at once, noticed the way that the man’s face changed. Children are gifted with the ability to notice such things, to take to kind the type of expressions adults had bestowed in their arsenal. It is how most children survive day to day, and Peter was no exception to that rule.
However, when the light began to shine on Alfred’s face, the mayor of the town whom Peter had never set eyes on, the child began to feel drawn to him. And so—carefully, oh so carefully, because he was still scared, still worried and his heart was pounding in his chest—inched out from behind the blacksmith’s wife, and carefully tip toed to the older man.
Now, Peter was never one to feel emotion towards strangers—even to the kind people who cared for him, he hardly ever gave a smile. He was always skittish, always worried about not being a help, always afraid that he would be kicked tot he curb as soon as money stopped coming in—and he waited, he waited so long for his mother.
The laugh startled little Peter slightly, but again he did not flinch—he merely blinked, confused for a moment, before nodding his head, letting go of the baker’s skirt and finally taking a step forward.
Peter was not blind to the horrible things in the world. He knew of pain and isolation, he knew of trickery and hate. But this man—this man, whom Peter had never seen before—gave a kind light, and Peter couldn’t help but be drawn to it. He had never been drawn to any other before, and it was a strange experience for the child—though it was not bad, not at all. Peter hesitantly inched forward as the other settled down to his height, and a hand reached out, unsure—unknowing—hesitant in what to do next.
“Ah—”
He stopped, paused in speaking, before finally breeching the distance between the two and resting his hand on the other’s knee.
“…I am not afraid, sir,” he said softly, swallowing hard—and he was speaking the truth, for fear was no longer a part of him.
“I am not afraid.”
Alfred's heart had begun to pound; that thing so long dormant that it had, despite frequent searching and vows to transform back to the living thing that it once was, become stone and was not won't to move again, now began to race, skipping beats and scrambling over itself, stumbling and falling in a way that made Alfred's head spin. There were stars before his eyes and they all collected within the little boy before him, and there was his world, all laid out, perfect and sparkling and new.
This would be his life, now; this child whom he had been charged with would fill his days; yes, Alfred Franklin Jones could now die a happy man! What luck, this child falling into his care! But that stopped him: how wrong of him, how terrible to let the mother rest in an unmarked and public grave, and to take her child without paying the least bit of thought, the least bit of thanks! In that moment, he had almost become a thief once more, and the thought pained him such that it was no small wonder that he did not moan, and bury his face in his hands.
No, all of this would be for Alice, that woman who had given everything so that her son could live; Alfred would honor her until the day that God claimed the soul that he owned but allowed to walk freely amongst His children. Alice was in Heaven, now, he was sure; and better there than here on Earth; and now it was Alfred's job to protect her child from the world, to bring unto him the safe and joyful existence that his mother had fought for.
"Of course not," said he, the glee bubbling lower; no less powerful, but in check, now; he had a mission here and he would see it through. "For there is nothing to fear. Tell me, Peter, how old are you?"
A gloved hand came to rest at his mouth, absentmindedly drumming on his lips, as he was given to doing at times when he was restless; and he was restless indeed. The boy before him thrilled him, and Alfred found himself struggling under the sudden crushing force of protectiveness that threatened to choke him.
He had not known it possible, for a father to feel this way about a child! Certainly not a child that wasn't even his! Oh, but he was, he was; Alfred would fill Alice's place as best he could, and Peter would be his own until he was relinquished to his mother's arms, long after Alfred himself had departed the world.
[3/2/13 11:33:10 AM] Alfred Valjones: alfie
[3/2/13 11:33:11 AM] Alfred Valjones: alfie boe
[3/2/13 11:33:13 AM] Alfred Valjones: alfie jones
[3/2/13 11:33:15 AM] Alfred Valjones: alfred jones
[3/2/13 11:33:17 AM] Alfred Valjones: alfred valjones
[3/2/13 11:33:20 AM] Alfred Valjones: we've come full circle
Born to revolt by *SandLion-Curse
No bull shit post man
My name is Marius Pontmercy
And Mine’s Cosette
AND IM JAVERT
DO NOT FORGET MY NAME
DO NOT FORGET MEEE
ohmygod javert shUSH
(( when you look at blogs that follow you that haven’t updated in up to a year and a half you just
friend
friend come back ))