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Daniel of Mirrel (sketch)  by Obsess-Confess Daniel of Mirrel (sketch) :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 18 2
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Metamorphosis || TEN (Final Chapter) :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 7 19
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Metamorphosis || NINE :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 5 8
Queen Valeria by Obsess-Confess Queen Valeria :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 14 9
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Metamorphosis || EIGHT :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 9 3
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pour some sugar on me (nsfw) :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 28 6
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Metamorphosis || SEVEN :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 6 2
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Valour and Blood || 3.3
“What took you so long?”
Valeria curled up smaller as the three giants’ footsteps reverberated through the walls and made her hiding place quake.
“We were just having breakfast.”
“God, you look a mess.” Alasdair put his hands on his hips, eyeing Morgan’s dirty uniform and marked face. Tiny lines of dried blood criss-crossed his cheeks and knuckles. “Just got back?”
“Aye.” Morgan shouldered past Ross, who swiftly moved to close the door and follow him into the kitchen. Morgan landed heavily in a chair, regarding Ross with a tired smile. “Don't suppose you have any of that left do you?” he asked, nudging Alasdair’s bowl. “I'm famished.”
“O-of course. Let me just…” Ross’ voice caught as he noticed the thimble - still resting by his own bowl in plain sight.
He was not so lucky that Morgan overlooked it. Ross winced as Morgan reached to pluck it up, leaving a tiny pu
:iconObsess-Confess:Obsess-Confess
:iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 15 11
Literature
Valour and Blood || 3.2
One morning, near dawn, Erica wandered out to the sitting room to find Roman and half the company crowded over a table. As she shuffled closer, she got a glimpse of what they were poring over: a supply list and rough designs, prices tallied below. There was a buzz of activity different than the usual gatherings. It was enough that she couldn't pass it by, not knowing.
"Roman," she mumbled. "What is all this?"
Roman looked up, brightened, and quietly excused himself to speak with her aside.
"Thought you would never wake up," he chuckled.
Erica did not smile. "What are they all doing here? What's happening?"
Roman took a breath. "King Amos is willing to forgive our past crimes in exchange for our expertise."
Her eyes widened. She had feared it would come to this. "You're not a soldier, Roman. You have no place making a deal like that!"
"It's already done," he said. "Besides, we have experience taking down giants when we must… what difference will it make to take down a few more on
:iconObsess-Confess:Obsess-Confess
:iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 13 3
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Metamorphosis || SIX :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 13 2
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Metamorphosis || FIVE :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 10 3
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Valour and Blood || 3.1 :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 17 7
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Metamorphosis || FOUR :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 11 5
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Valour and Blood || 2.28 :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 19 19
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Metamorphosis || THREE :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 14 7
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Metamorphosis || TWO :iconobsess-confess:Obsess-Confess 12 4

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Daniel of Mirrel (sketch)
The rough sketch, first of several, that I’m planning to make for a character lineup for The Heart Between Kingdoms! Minus his scruff, haha.
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They wouldn’t come to a conclusion on his disciplinary hearing for up to a week, but Patrick knew it was unavoidable. After his outburst at the round table, it would be nothing short of a fucking miracle if he wasn’t fired by Sunday.

He took a deep pull from a beer— his fourth that night— and slouched backward in the driver’s seat of his car. He’d been sitting in the parking lot of Yemen’s Liquor, fully intending to finish the six pack in the seat beside him. He stared out the window, his brown eyes shadowed as he gazed at the colossal silhouettes of the DEMFAC prison.

In that second cylinder that vanished into the twilight fog, Thomas was waiting for him.

Entering would be simple. Barely anyone was around for the midnight shift, and Patrick knew for a fact that the acres of green around the facility were unmanned by officers or automated weapons. The security in the building itself was so airtight that no one had deemed it necessary to add another layer. The last breakout from DEMFAC had been, if memory served Patrick correctly… never.

With his full access coding still intact within in his Lens and his tablet, this was the last chance Patrick would have to breeze through the locked gateways and back again without setting off a single alarm.

Before he knew it, he was draining the last dregs of his sixth beer. His hands were perfectly steady as he balanced the can on the dashboard before him. The time on the radio declared it to be 00:37 AM. Now was as good a time as any to make a move.

He eased himself out of the driver’s seat and slammed the door, making his way across the almost deserted car park without bothering to lock his car. It was unlikely that he would ever be needing it again.

He entered through a maintenance entrance. The staircases were the safer way to reach the cell blocks-- rarely used and requiring no ID check until the top floor. The beer in his veins made the journey more hazardous. He tripped on every other stair but only grew more urgent despite the throbbing in his shins. The pain made his mission feel more real.

The cool light of the cell floor was nearly blinding. It was like walking in a dream as he looked over at the circular line of cubed Juren. The sight had become familiar in the past months, as familiar as his own reflection. But standing here in his street clothing and smelling of booze, it felt like seeing it all again, completely new. Most of the man eaters were asleep at this hour. The scene could almost be described as peaceful.

Fighting to keep his feet in a straight line, Patrick mounted the first hoverpad he could get his hands on and jammed his ID into the slot. "Come on, come on…"

It hummed to life, control panel greeting him with bright letters. WELCOME BACK, PATRICK. He swiped them away, having to type in his controls twice when his fingers started shaking.

There was a creeping sensation on his neck; his earlier confidence that he would not be caught by another officer beginning to crumble. But there was no one behind him, no one coming up the lengthy tunnel towards the hovercraft bays. The cameras on the walls showed no movement other than his own.

The vehicle seemed abnormally loud as it juddered to life, making Patrick clench his teeth. One of the other giants in the cells grunted and twitched in their sleep, but did not waken. He forced his fingers to relax on the controls, steering the craft forward at an urgent pace.

Thomas’s stats appeared automatically on the tablet as it reacted to the proximity of his active implant. The piece of metal in his neck blinked with its usual blue light, vivid in the dark cell block. Patrick could barely see the giant himself, just the faint outline of an enormous body on the floor, propped up but perfectly still next to the cot.

“Alright,” Patrick murmured. He exhaled one long, shaky breath as he issued a command on the tablet.

Disable implant.

The blue light vanished. Almost at once, the massive shadow shifted in the cell, expanding as Thomas rose to his feet. He brushed his hand over his neck, feeling the spot over and over.

"It's you, isn't it?" Patrick caught a flash of blue as his eyes hit the light. "You came back for me."

"I couldn't let those monsters have you." Patrick's eyes were wet with sudden, inexplicable tears. He steered the hoverpad closer, too eager in his movements. It bounced right off the forcefield, giving a disagreeable buzz of warning. Thomas had his hand pressed to the translucent material. Patrick slammed both his hands over where his palm was, gazing straight up at him. "T-there's a doorlock just three hundred feet south. The way they brought you in when you came. We'll need to run for it."

Thomas nodded at him. "I'm ready," he said softly.

This was it. “Stand… stand back a little,” Patrick breathed. “I’m about to get this cell open.”

The giant obeyed without argument, taking two steps backwards and lowering his hand. Patrick was finding it hard to navigate his controls with those beautiful, beautiful blue eyes fixed on him so intently. The gratitude in those eyes - all for him - had him inebriated all over again.

The faint, buzzing haze that separated them vanished in a millisecond.

“Come on,” Patrick choked. His hand trembled on the lever and the hovercraft jerked backwards some, allowing the Juren room enough to step beyond the invisible boundary of his cell. “I’m getting you out of here.”

A smile, a glorious smile, spread over Thomas’s face. “Patrick…” Fast enough to make the human flinch, Thomas closed the distance between them to stand in the corridor  - for the first time without a Juren officer clamped on each arm.

When he thrust out his hands Patrick responded immediately, practically leaping off the floating vehicle and into those waiting palms. Before he could even take a moment to catch his breath he was being lifted high, towards Thomas’s face.

“I can’t believe this.” He held Patrick close, their foreheads touching, their eyes closed in a moment of pure relief. “Y-you shouldn’t have come. They’ll-”

“Fuck them,” Patrick said fiercely. “I’ve made my choice.”

He could think of little more rewarding than the gleam in Thomas's eyes when they opened and focused on him again. It was possessive and reckless and so utterly rejoicing.

His hands lowered after a moment, and Patrick found himself sliding down into the breast pocket of the giant’s plain DEMFAC-issued tee.

“Stay in there until we’re out,” Thomas said, his voice rumbling in Patrick’s ears.

He could have laughed at the strangeness of it. Him, sitting in a pocket! If anyone were to see, there would have been an outrage. The beer made that particular prospect all the funnier, but he was wise to bite his tongue as Thomas began walking and his little hammock was set into motion.

Only a few steps in, the alarm went off. Blinding lights flashed and blaring sirens at top volume. Thomas continued as though nothing way happening. Patrick had to hoist himself up to get a glimpse. He froze up as he watched Thomas’s muscular arms reach out and rip the power right out of the adjacent cell. The force field flickered and went out. The giant within stood up, cautious of his newfound freedom.

“Thomas?” Patrick gave a grunt, struggling to hold himself up by the lip of the pocket to get his attention. “Thomas, what the fuck are you doing? The door is the other way!”

A massive fingertip gently pushed him back to the bottom. “I know, Red. Just sit tight.”

Uncertainty chilled Patrick to his very bones. He looked down at his hands, remembering only at that moment that he had set down the tablet on his hovercraft when he removed the forcefield.

“Thomas, my control pad!” he called up hoarsely. “Where is it?”

“I have it,” he replied. “Don’t worry, Red. I’ll let us out myself.”

“No, Thomas-”

His alcohol-saturated stomach turned as the giant picked up speed, dismantling the security on the remaining cells before heading for the staff entrance that led back to the main area. Through the thin grey fabric of Thomas’s shirt pocket Patrick saw the silhouette of the tablet pinched carefully between the giant’s finger and thumb. The gigantic doors parted for them at the slightest touch of Thomas’s thumb to the screen, unbelievably delicate for someone so large.

“Not that way,” Patrick cried. “Do you wanna get caught?”

“Relax. You told me yourself, there’s next to nothing out there other than locked doors. You took care of that problem.” He twizzled the tiny tech in his hand pointedly. “I have to say some goodbyes before we leave.”

Shock rendered him speechless for several moments, while Thomas’s gait grew in power and confidence with every passing second.  The pocket had swiftly lost its charm.

“No,” he said. Again, louder. “No! This isn’t what we talked about!” He pounded a fist against the wall of a chest behind him. His own insignificance was beginning to deafen him more than the blaring alarms.

His worst fears were confirmed when Thomas rounded a corner. Two enormous Jüren guards stood in his path, armed and short of breath.

“Oh fuck me, it’s him,” the woman muttered. Patrick recognized her. Nadine. Many a morning she had kindly escorted him by shoulder or palm to his station.  

She fumbled for her own control pad as thumbed the trigger for his implant. Naturally, nothing happened. “The fuck… it’s not working!”

“I’m not leashed anymore,” Thomas explained cheerily. “Not used to that, are you?”

Thomas charged before the other guard could get his gun out of its holster. Patrick himself was horrified at the giant’s burst of speed, and found himself forced to cling to the inner seam of the pocket to keep from spilling out between the brawling giants.

With surprising strength, Thomas pinned the guard to the ground. He twisted the hand reaching for the gun and with a savage noise pried the weapon from bent fingers. In one smooth motion, he had it flipped around. Patrick shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut as the butt of the gun clubbed against bone and flesh over and over in an endless string of smacks long after the giant had stopped struggling.

Nadine advanced with a cry of panic, snatching at Thomas’s wrist. She caught hold of it and clung tight, her grip strong despite her being smaller than the other giant. It did no good however when Thomas threw his weight forward, his forehead smacking into her nose hard enough to draw blood.

She let go and fell, howling in pain and trying to staunch the crimson flow spurting from her face. Thomas cracked the gun once against her temple and was up and running in an instant, the other prisoners hot on his tail. Patrick could feel the giant’s heart pounding with disturbing clarity behind a wall of flesh and bone, dangerously fast. Patrick gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, willing himself not to think. The sooner they were out of this place, the better.

After navigating the last few sets of doors, they emerged in the main building. Thomas came to an abrupt halt. At first, Patrick assumed he was just checking the coast was clear, until he realised that the giant’s attention had been caught by something across the way.

There was a light on in Doctor Summer’s office.

Glass shattered to his left. Metal scraping. The alarm blaring. Patrick’s head felt like it was going to explode as the other prisoners made chaos in the lobby. With lockdown being triggered, the main doors had been fortified by an iron shield. It would have burned any Jüren that tried to bare-handedly pry it open. They were smarter than that, using steel ripped from foundations to wear down metal against metal. It would be minutes, he guessed, before those powerful blows made very real progress.

Every so often, a giant would roar and clutch their necks, and Patrick realized the security team was operating safely from the adjacent building, watching from the many cameras. They wouldn’t risk losing more officers if they’d seen the footage of Nadine and her patrolman. No, they wouldn’t be taking any chances with this lot. A nervous sweat broke out as he considered the possibility of what would happen if incoming backup caught up to Thomas— and him.

Fueled by these fears, he struggled to stand and gave the grey wall of t-shirt a harsh tug in both hands, again and again like a petulant child. He almost expected to be ignored again, and flinched in surprise when he got a flash of ice blue when Thomas dug his chin to his chest to peer down at him.

“Shh. Don’t ruin this for me, Red,” Thomas breathed. He pinched the lip of the pocket and with the slightest jerk of his wrist, Patrick was sent straight back to the bottom.

The screams of the other giants increased in vigour and volume, their electrodes buzzing shrilly. But the slamming of the metal against the doors was insistent and, all too soon, there were the tell-tale cries of triumph.

“Get out of here,” Thomas yelled at them, and Patrick felt the laughter in his voice. “Go before they catch you.”

They needed no further encouragement.

“Oh my god,” Patrick was saying, over and over. “Oh my god, oh my god.” The most dangerous prisoners in the whole facility were escaping, and it was his doing.

Thomas, however, did not seem to be in as much of a hurry to leave. Instead, he was heading for the line of small rooms positioned a little over his eye level that filled the walls of the lobby.

“Summer,” he called. His voice shook Patrick to the core. “It’s time for another </I>session.</I>”

He tapped a finger on the glass, taunting her with the courtesy of a knock. The poor woman must’ve made a run for it, for Thomas suddenly slammed his fist through the window. The entire third floor set of windows shattered from the blow. Patrick couldn’t be sure if he was only hearing the destruction, or if there were screams lost to the noise. Picking away the biggest shards hanging on the frame, Thomas crammed his hand into the office and pulled out a kicking and screaming Doctor Summer by her ankles.

“You’re always so happy to see me,” Thomas crooned to her swinging form. “What’s wrong?

“Lancaster, stop,” Summer weeped. “You’re n-not well. T-this isn’t right. I can help you.”

Thomas made a noise in his throat, like a chuckle. “Give me a fucking break.”

Patrick’s stomach bottomed out once again as Thomas dropped to his hands and knees right in the middle of the lobby. He began to slip down to the very front of the pocket as the giant dropped Summer in a heap between his knees and leaned over her.

“You enjoyed every second of those godforsaken experiments, didn’t you?” His full lips rasped against her tear-stained cheeks. Summer twisted away. He let her crawl all of two feet before snapping out a hand to drag her back to him and pin her down at the waist. He must’ve gotten some sort of pleasure from her squirming, Patrick thought.

“You're a sick little girl under all this. Wanting to see me scream and sweat all for you.” Thomas leveled his face over her entire body, as if to make sure she knew exactly how little she was compared to him. “I’m sure you won’t begrudge me for enjoying this.”

She was sobbing now, hysterical, the calm-and-collected doctor of before nowhere to be seen. “Thomas… please… please…” she panted. “E-everything… I did was… t-to help you…”

Patrick couldn’t see her anymore. But he’d seen enough footage of Thomas’s victims to know the exact expression that must have been on her face.

“Shh.” Patrick could feel a hum reverberate through Thomas’s chest as the Juren leaned in ever closer to the cowering scientist. “Trust me, Summer. This will be the best thing you’ve ever done for me.”

“What… what are you doing? No, please- no!

Summer’s wails were drowned out by the sharp sound of fabric torn by some great force. When Thomas raised his head again, Patrick saw the front of Summer’s suit had been cleaved open, her underwear and bare skin disturbingly clear in the overhead lights.

Thomas only laughed, spitting a chunk of linen to the floor. “When you’ve been doing this as long as I have,” he said conversationally, “You’ll find clothes don’t go down so good.”

The brutal realisation that had been swimming around in the back of Patrick’s head for some minutes now had finally hit him full force.

Oh god. What have I done?

“Thomas.” Patrick’s voice was hoarse, and more pleading than he had intended. “Thomas, you have to stop this.”

“P-Patrick? Patrick, is that you?” Summer screeched. “Oh my god, Patrick, help me please.”

“Thomas,” he roared, tears pricking his eyes. “I said stop this!”

It was as though the Juren hadn’t even heard him, so absorbed he was in Summer. Patrick was jostled to and fro as Thomas set about tearing away every fragment of clothing from the wretched woman, snarls of pleasure rumbling from him as he did so. Eventually, these sounds gave way to a sickening, wet rasping noise, and the hot stink of blood and viscera flowered in the air.

Summer’s moans and cries erupted into one long strained howl of terror and pain. The world lurched again as Thomas rose up on his knees, Summer in hand. Her torso had been ripped open as easily as her clothes, a great splash of crimson across the centre of her body and staining Thomas’s massive palm.

The simulation they had forced Thomas to watch flashed in Patrick’s mind, disturbingly similar to the sight before him but nothing, nothing in comparison to the ghastly white face of the doctor, the smell of meat and blood and bile like no simulation could offer. Worse still, was when Thomas leaned in to put his mouth to the gaping wound and begin to suck.

Patrick wasn’t sure whether he was going to piss himself or vomit.  

When Thomas swallowed, the sickening sound was amplified. He could feel the muscular chest at his back twitch from the action, easily downing a mouthful of Summer’s insides. Patrick moaned, turning pale in the corner of the cloth hammock. Just minutes ago, he couldn’t wait to be close to Thomas. It felt like so long ago now.

What was left of Doctor Summer when Thomas was finished with her was hardly recognizable as human. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand with a rumbly sigh, slowly getting to his feet. He dropped the shredded body like it was crumpled litter, where it landed with an inconsequential thump far below. With alarms still piercing the air, Thomas’s huge boots shifted. Patrick rocked as he turned east and finally made for the gaping doorway.

He moved fast once they were outside. It wouldn’t be long now before his window to outrun the cops was shut forever— and Thomas knew it. It wasn’t until they were miles into the thick of Jüren woodland that his beautiful captor slowed to an amble and sniffed the air. Patrick felt a pang of sympathy for him; this was, after all, the first oxygen in over a year that hadn’t been recycled and processed through a dozen E-filters.

For a while, Thomas was just quiet. The heart beat that had accosted Patrick for much of the journey was slowing to a comfortable pace again, Thomas’s chest moving him up and down with luxurious inhalations and exhalations of the pure, raw air. The only sound came from the leisurely thud of his footsteps and his contented breathing.

Patrick white-knuckled the edge of the pocket, more than content to be ignored. Hot tears stung the corner of his eyes, a sour taste in the back of his throat as Summer’s glistening red body flashed through his mind again, and again, and again. My fault, he thought. That blood is on my hands.

It was only when Patrick began retching that Thomas seemed to remember his tiny accomplice.

“Don’t worry, Red,” he panted, still winded from the first run he’d had in months. “Let it all out. I’ll be ditching these clothes before long anyway, right?”

Patrick gasped and choked, only a small amount of beer-tasting vomit emerging. The shock seemed to be preventing him from even throwing up properly.

There was a smile in the power of Thomas’s voice again when he murmured down to him. The strange mixture of comfort and condescension turned to a chuckle, and then a laugh. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Patrick slowly craned his neck.

“What’s so funny?” he rasped.

There was blood staining the perfect white of Thomas’s boyish grin. “In all my time in that hell… I never imagined it would be so easy. I barely had to bend a finger to turn your head, you know that? And you gave everything for me.”

A shudder wracked Patrick’s body, but he held down the gorge that threatened to rise. “I don’t u-understand,” he said. “I thought… I thought we…”

“I know,” Thomas cooed, smoothing Patrick’s sweaty hair out of his face with one tender finger. “I’m sorry I had to do that. But you know it was the only way I was ever going to get out of there alive.”

“So you were lying this whole time.” He slapped at Thomas’s hand until it retreated. “About us. About how you feel about me.”

Thomas’s smile widened. “You have to admit I did a good job, didn’t I?”

Every bone in Patrick’s body was turning to liquid as Thomas said these words. “You were never in love with me, were you?”  

“Love is a strong word…” His fingers wrapped around him now, pulling him out of the confines of his pocket. “Oh, Patrick, you needn’t look at me like that. I’m more grateful than you can imagine. Really! Thanks to you, I’m free again.”

Borne aloft in his gentle fist, the spires of New York City were visible to Patrick now behind a curtain of Jüren sized-trees. The dense forest that surrounded DEMFAC was beginning to thin.  The sounds of city life began to overpower the chaos of the prison. Within a few more miles, the giant would be freely roaming the streets.

He didn’t know how Thomas could have possibly known the east field was the only unfenced part of the place. It didn’t matter. Nothing did, it seemed, as a numbness crept through his body.

Fake. It had all been fake.

“But what happens now? We talked about that cottage a-and ferrying overseas,” Patrick protested weakly. “You’re just going to forget about me now.”

“Hey, hey… I could never forget you.”

But Thomas was no longer looking at him. His occupied hand lowered near his waist as he stared out at the sprawling city with hunger glinting in his eyes. “I’ve got a long way to go from here. I’m going to need a snack for the road.”
Metamorphosis || TEN (Final Chapter)
The thrilling conclusion to Metamorphosis has arrived!! I hope you all enjoyed this gt horror/thriller short as much as MentalcaseVole and I had a diabolical time writing it! I appreciate everyone’s comments and guesses along the way! I know this is a little darker than a lot of gt lol!

What other stories or characters would you like to see in future Caught/ Valour and Blood universe shorts? : D
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Officer Simons sat across from Patrick in the dimly lit conference room. Only humans sat around the table, but the  space was kept as cold as though they were trying to preserve a Jüren. He shivered, rubbing his hands together beneath the table.

This was going to be ugly.

"The time for your social experiment with Thomas Lancaster has elapsed." The stern voice of Edmund Gillian, the head of security, rang out like a spear of ice. "I trust you've reached some sort of… enlightenment with the prisoner."

Summer, sitting directly to Patrick’s left, cleared her throat, unfolding the tablet that sat before her on the tabletop. “It’s been some months since we started the therapy with Mr Lancaster,” she began. “A lot of development has occurred in that time. We’ve have some interesting results.”

Gillian arched an eyebrow. “Positive results?” he coaxed impatiently.

“Some,” she replied. “His behaviour towards human staff has improved tremendously. No more threats, no suggestive comments, no lewd allusions. He doesn’t hide his disdain for me-” here she smirked, “but he doesn’t antagonise either. It’s as if he’s trying his best to convince us he’s a perfectly stable Jüren.”

Of course she thinks it's a ruse, Patrick sneered to himself.

She swiped a few times against the cool glass of her tablet. In a moment, the space projector hiding behind the dim fluorescents flickered to life. Holographic, full-color models of Thomas's brain scans were suddenly before each of them. It was a gruesome profile view solid down the center of his skull, each part of the grey mass color coded for clarity.

You could barely tell it was him at all. A true shame.

"The scans my predecessors have made support my theory that Thomas suffers from a mental disorder involving homicidal ideation. Not discounting his traumatic past," Summer went on, "it's quite plain to see that this is a genetic defect. A disconnect from reality and compassion."

"So what do you suggest, Doctor?"

"Weed him out. And all those like him." Her voice was a cold snap, like a whip.

Patrick opened his mouth before he could stop himself, but someone else beat him to the punch.

“Doctor, you just said yourself he’s not mentally stable,” a woman to Simons’ right interjected. “If he’s not in control of his thoughts and behavior, how can we punish him as a murderer? Mental patients don’t go to the gallows.”

Summer eyed her with cool condescension. “Just because he’s genetically predisposed to these impulses, doesn’t mean he can’t be held responsible for them. With the exception of our late colleague, Prennan, Thomas didn’t kill at random. He selected his victims. Kept them hostage. Chose their method of death. Now, if that isn’t thoughtful, premeditated murder, officer… then what is?”

“But-”

“Mr Lancaster is a high-functioning psychopath,” she barrelled on. “He’s made it quite clear that he’s fully aware of the ethical implications of his crimes - he simply doesn’t care. Trying to ‘cure’ him is going to take up time and resources better spent on criminals who are likely to reform. Better we give him the punishment HM’s court couldn’t bring themselves to dish out.”

"But he's reformed!" Patrick blurted. The tables silenced, and his cheeks went pink. Still, he pressed on. He thought of the cottage, and Thomas's promise to him. His pleas. "He… he's changed. I spend half my day, every day, guarding his cell. He doesn't even think about eating people any more."

A hushed murmur ran through the officials. "Oh?" Summer snapped, her blue eyes flashing. "This, coming from the man who's been too sympathetic from the start. Sit down, officer. I won't ask again."

“Maybe sympathy was just what he needed,” Patrick argued, not budging. “Instead of being left in that box on his own, his only human contact being us poking and prodding him and treating him like a monster. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to.”

“What are you getting at here, son?” Simons levelled him with a withering glare.

Patrick took a deep breath. “I’ve… been speaking with him,” he admitted. “Outside the timetabled sessions. Just being able to talk to a human… like normal… it’s changed him. I’m sure of it. He respects me. He trusts me.”

The hushed discussion around the table jumped, a dozen outraged voices ringing out. Patrick dodged his gaze to the window that overlooked the titanic, concrete facility that housed the man-eaters. Where Thomas was sitting on the cot that could be his deathbed.

“You fucking idiot,” Summer escalated to make her still voice heard above the others. “Lancaster isn’t capable of making sincere bonds with anyone. You’re deluded if you think he sees you as anything but an naive target.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “For once, I’d agree with the man.”

“You’re wrong!”

The entire table went silent as Patrick’s shout echoed around the room. He stood there, fists pressed on the table, his chest heaving as he looked from stunned expression to stunned expression. Only Summer remained composed.

“And why is that?” she said, in a voice like stone.

Patrick could feel sweat breaking out at his hairline. Suddenly, his throat was dry, dry enough to make his voice hoarse when he replied: “Me and him… we’ve bonded. Really bonded.”

Simons scoffed. “Patrick, I told you right from the start not to trust-”

“I know! I know what you said,” he interrupted sharply. “But you don’t understand… you couldn’t possibly realise how this feels. He’s not faking this. You have to take my word for it, because I’m the only one who knows how it feels to be with him.”

“You’re not suggesting we let him go?” the doctor scoffed. Her pretty eyes were narrowed to slits, as if daring him to answer.

Patrick leaned across the table, his voice trembling. “You can’t kill him, Summer. Please.”

“Enough!” A throaty voice silenced all others. Patrick sank back in his seat when he recognized the face of Carl Usher, Security Director, glowering down at him from the other end of the conference room. An intimidating man despite his advanced age. “Patrick, I want you out of this room, now. We’ll be launching a full investigation into your behavior, but in the meantime, I will not have your insubordination delay a judgement that’s long overdue.”

As a pair of guards rose from their posts to collect him, Usher waved his hand and made the projections of Thomas’s body vanish. The room darkened. Patrick didn’t fight until the director cleared his throat to continue.

“The execution will proceed on Friday as planned. Make the necessary preparations for transfer and broadcast.”

Patrick’s stomach bottomed out. He bucked, wrenching himself free with a wildness that wasn’t his own. No, he thought, </I>This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. </I>

“What about his trial?” he demanded. “What about his goddamn trial?”

“Mr Lancaster was tried and given a suspended death sentence three years ago in Grendall High Court,” Usher replied, as casual as Patrick was agitated. “He’s lucky he’s lasted as long as he has.”

Angry tears sprang to Patrick’s eyes. The guards had a painful grip on his arms but he barely noticed as he fought against them. “This isn’t right.”

“We’re not letting that monster back out on the streets,” Simons said. “And we’ve wasted enough resources keeping him fed and clothed in that damned box. I think I speak for everyone when I say the bastard should be grateful he’s facing a swift death instead of thirty more years in a cube.”

“Fuck that!” The words spilled like Patrick like acid, burning him as they went.

“I think it’s time you headed home.” Usher have a curt nod. “Have a Jüren guard escort him from the building.”

With wildness that wasn’t his own, Patrick fought them the whole way.
Metamorphosis || NINE
Alasdair’s fate is decided. One more chapter left!

Co-written as always by the very talented MentalcaseVole
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Queen Valeria
Part of a Valour and Blood AU that MentalcaseVole and I have been toying around with! Mostly just painted bc Valeria is the prettiest thing EVER and she needs a hundred portraits of her painted :love:
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Patrick woke at dawn in a hot sweat.

Breathing hard, he threw the quilt covers off of him, half-expecting to see the sheets soaked with blood. Instead, they were damp with perspiration and… something else. He squinted at the blackout blind, seeing the light beginning to creep around the edges from his floor-to-ceiling window. A dull pain wracked his arm - he had been sleeping with his weight on it and now it was tingling in protest.

There was no way he was going to try and nestle down in those sheets again. The clock by his bed beeped, making him jump as it proclaimed the time: 5:00am. An hour before he had to get up for work.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself out of bed and, naked, padded to the shower. Flashes of the dream assaulted him as the warm water pounded against his back. The still, silent forest. The strange clothes adorning him. The grassy earth under his head as he was pinned to the ground and-

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he murmured to himself.

A dream. It was only a dream. Dreams didn't have to mean a damn thing. It was just the result of having spent too much time cooped up in DEMFAC with lunatics and man-eaters.

The best thing he could do was put on his uniform and forget it ever happened.





"Red?"

Patrick blinked, finding himself back on his hoverpad in the late afternoon. Summer had left to consolidate her notes from the day, and Jüren guards were changing shifts. It was quiet in Block A, apart from the bated breath of the man before him.

"I'm sorry," Patrick muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You were saying something and I…"

"You straight up went catatonic for a second," Thomas finished for him. "You'd think you were the one being fried for thirty fucking minutes a day."

He laughed breathily. “I just have a lot on my mind, is all. What were you saying?”

“Nothing interesting, apparently.”

He sighed and stretched, rising out of his chair and sauntering across the tiny space with his fingers interlinked above his head. He had a ponderous gait that never failed to remind Patrick of a big cat, a caged leopard.

“Hey, when was the last time they let you out for some fresh air?” Patrick wondered after a time.

Thomas pursed his lips. “I don’t know. Last month maybe?”

“Last month?” Patrick shook his head. “This place, man…”

The giant only smiled, smoothing down his shirt when he lowered his thick arms. “You fancy escorting me out to the yard?”

“Funny.”

“They used to do that, you know,” he continued. “At my old place anyway.”

“Yeah, well, blame Health and Safety for me not doing that,” Patrick scoffed. “I should tell one of the big guys to come and get you…”

“I’m happy right here.” His eyes locked with Patrick’s. “I’d rather talk to you.”

As he laid one of those massive hands over the crackling barrier, Patrick felt the ghost of Thomas's touch along his arms. The vividness of it made his mouth turn dry.

It was as though Thomas could read him like a book. "What's the matter with you?"

"I'm worried about you," the words came tumbling out. It was another moment before Patrick realized he truly meant them.

"That's adorable."

Thomas was smirking, but Patrick challenged him with a grim stare. "Summer almost has what she needs from you. I'm not sure if they'll bring someone else in after she's done with you or--" He cut off and let the silence say the rest.

The giant dropped his head, nodding in understanding. “I don’t know why you give a shit, Red. It’s all the same to you whether I live or die.”

“No it’s not,” Patrick shot back. His knuckles were white on the hovercraft railing. “Look, I care what happens to you. Despite what they all say… I feel like I know you. I know you want to change. I don’t want you to die because…”

He trailed off as Thomas’s eyes returned to him, intense in their regard. He swallowed and scowled down at his hands. “Never mind,” he murmured.

“What?”

“No.” He shook his head, a humourless laugh leaving him. “I mean- god, this is unprofessional…”

“Am I going to have to report you?” Thomas was grinning again. Trying to set him at ease. Somehow he knew exactly what Patrick was feeling, he was sure of it.

“I-” An idea struck. Glancing around furtively, Patrick saw no one in the corridor. There was no one around to see them.

No one to see him turn off the recording equipment in Thomas’s cell.

“This is crazy,” Patrick muttered. He hit the control on the screen before him. Thomas flinched and peered upwards as the cameras in each corner of the cell beeped and went out.

He could kill you. He could fucking kill you.

Nonetheless, Patrick lowered security on the electro barrier so the hoverpad could push right on through before he could carefully mull over his insane impulse. Thomas staggered back in surprise to avoid a collision between them, crashing down onto his cot with a grunt.

"Holy fuck, Patrick. A little warning would be-"

"Lay down," Patrick interrupted. He cleared his throat, willing his voice not to shake. Thomas just stared. "Lay down, Thomas, please. I have to restrain you."

The giant obeyed after another moment of confusion, allowing the cuffs to click into place in their usual positions.

"What is this?" Thomas asked. There was no suspicion in that rumbling voice, only curiosity, the kind that could have belonged to a child.

He trusts me more than anyone.

"I'm tired of raising my fucking voice. And… I-I just know we're not going to have much longer when this is finished, to talk like normal people." Patrick leveled the hoverpad to the side of the cot, next to the thin band that circled over Thomas's neck.

"Normal," Thomas said, smiling sadly. "I'm strapped to a table, Red. About as much normal in that as dancing with a cadaver."

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I wish I didn’t have to, but…”

“I know.”

The giant shifted his weight as much as he was able, turning his head towards the ceiling. Patrick stared with unabashed appreciation of the strong line of his jaw, his curved lips and the lashes that were so inexplicably attractive. With one hand gripping the rail, Patrick lowered himself off the hoverpad and onto the taut fabric of the cot.

“Don’t move too suddenly,” he breathed. “I’m right here.”

A vein pulsed in Thomas’s neck, just above the electrode embedded in his skin, and his eyes flickered to the left. His nostrils flared briefly, and Patrick knew he could smell him better than he could when there was a barricade between them.

“Why did you turn off the cameras?” he asked softly.

Patrick paused in the shadow of his shoulder. “I’m not supposed to get this close. If anyone saw, there’d be trouble.”

More like a death sentence, a little voice chirped in the back of his head.

Short gusts of air breezed over his head. Thomas looked as breathless as he felt, trying in vain to get a good look at him.

"You can touch me, if you want."

The mere permission had his heart racing. Already, he was close enough to feel that wonderful Jüren body heat rolling off Thomas's skin in waves. Defensive, he shook his head at once. "I'm n-not here to manhandle you. What do you take me for, really?"

"It's alright," Thomas crooned. "I know you're not like the others. Go on, please."

Though Patrick dithered, the temptation was ultimately too strong to resist. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed his eyes shut and closed the distance between them completely. He spread his palm flat against Thomas’s neck.

He gasped. The sheer power of the giant's body heat banished the chill the heavily air-conditioned block instilled on his fingers. More than this, Patrick could feel the hot blood seething beneath the skin. He swore the pulse quickened at his touch.

“Whoa…” he murmured. Without instruction his hands wandered freely, raising the minute hairs in their follicles and tracing freckles as big as his own eyes.

Patrick almost jumped out of his skin when Thomas chuckled. “You don't get up close and personal with us big guys often, do you?”

“The officers here occasionally give me lifts.” He managed to recall, amid his concentration, Nadine’s enormous presence as she saved him a long walk across the facility every once in a while. “But that's hands only.”

Thomas hummed, a rich vibration that made Patrick's fingers dance on his skin. "Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time a human came this close to me. Without taze sticks and those little triggers you boys are so fond of."

"It's okay, though?" Patrick was suddenly meek and double guessing, as if he might be making the titan uncomfortable. But the hint of a smile on those full lips said anything but.

"It's amazing," Thomas countered. A rumble ran through the bed. Hands clinking against their bonds. "Don't you trust me enough to touch you, too, Patrick?"

Patrick let the silence ring in his ears. He thought if he ignored the plea, Thomas might drop the subject. He should have expected that Thomas would surprise him once more.

"We both know you're dying for it. Aren't you? You want my hand around you, making you feel small." The lips pulled into a smirk. "I bet you're getting hard just thinking about it, aren't you? And now, nobody has to know."

Patrick shook his head like a petulant child. Thomas's musk clouded his thoughts like a fog. He eyed the chained hand so much further down the cot. Even his hands were beautiful.

"I know you're more capable of change than they know," Patrick said breezily, letting his hand drift upwards towards the stubbly underside of the giant's jaw, like he was petting a tiger. "I trust you enough to be here. Isn't that enough?"

Thomas seemed distracted himself, eyes closing lazily when Patrick smoothed his palm along that hard jawline. “What danger could you possibly be in here?” he asked. “I can barely even turn my head.”

He had a point. But still… Patrick glanced over at the tablet on the hovercraft. “I know how I can tell for sure whether you'll try something.”

Thomas scoffed gently. “Feel free to whip out the lie detector if you want,” he said. “But I think you already know I won't hurt you.”

“Really.”

Thomas flexed his hands and offered a reassuring smile. “We have to stop with the pretences, Red. I'll just come out with it. I like you. Maybe more than I should. Doesn't that make all the difference?”

Patrick considered him. He knew better than most - maybe more than anyone - the danger that pretty face could hide. Lord only knew how many times he'd watched him lie to Summer's face. But there was something decidedly pleading beyond that kind smile that made Patrick falter. It was sad; a loneliness that resonated with Patrick too.

And suddenly, it became amply simple. Neither of them should be alone any longer.

After one more glance around for stray human guards making their rounds, he stepped back onto the hoverpad. His heart was oddly calm as he pressed a white, shaking finger to a section labeled MANUAL RESTRAINTS, when it should have been pounding. One cuff around Thomas's hand gave a hiss and retracted back into the cot.

Faster than he could comprehend, the giant had taken advantage. Thomas lashed the hand towards him. Darkness and pressure and rushing air came as he was whisked away effortlessly.

He had truly believed that man, that murderer wouldn't hurt him. Stupid, stupid, stupid-

He couldn't see a thing, but as the air turned warmer and humid, he had an idea where he was headed.

"Thomas, d-don't--" he choked off. The enormous hand wasn't squeezing him. There was ground beneath his feet again, rising and falling. Warm.

“Didn’t I tell you, Red?”

Patrick, shivering, staggered to his knees as the enormous voice rattled through him - from the ground straight into his skin. Thomas’s hand was relaxed behind him; he was in no danger of being snatched up again. A brief glance down made him realise that his knees were resting in thick, grey fabric. As he watched, it moved again.

“You’re safe with me,” Thomas finished softly.

Patrick whipped his head around to face the voice. All he could see of the giant’s head was the marble underside of his jaw. The silver cuff around his neck glinted in the light. Still shaking from head to toe, the human dragged himself upright and half-walked, half-stumbled over the hillock that was Thomas’s chest.

A nervous laugh erupted unbidden from him as he spread his arms for balance. “You scared the shit out of me,” he breathed.

When he staggered, Thomas's hand was there to break his fall.

"Sorry. I'm tired of talking," he rumbled by way of explanation. "Too damn much of it around here."

Patrick swallowed hard and nodded. His chest was still tight, as though his body was still wound up and ready for a near death experience. He looked to his right, where his hand was braced so casually along the back of Thomas's hand.

How had he come to this point? Sitting on the fucking chest of the world's most horrific serial killer to date?

Something powerful stirred in him as he let his hand slide along the index finger. Right down to the tip, over the fingernail and back down to the knuckles - each as large as his head. He let his eyes flutter shut, feeling the power in that hand while Thomas lay there, letting him.

Patrick breathed. His head was in the lion’s mouth right now, but his fear was strangely taking a backseat. Still his hands trembled as they traced the much larger one supporting him.

“Just relax, Patrick,” Thomas purred. There was no hiding anything from him. “You know I’m not gonna do anything to you.”

Just looking into those great eyes now sapped the tension from Patrick’s shoulders. It was almost incomprehensible now that he used to see such cruelty and malice in them. It had all been a front.  In reality, they were soft and gentle.

“This is fucking insane.” Patrick let his hands continue to wander, but his eyes remained on Thomas’s upturned face. “Summer would have an aneurysm if she saw us together like this.”

The giant chuckled his agreement, letting his head fall back with a light thump on the cot. There was a red line where the cuff had been pressing on his neck. “Are you going to tell her?” he asked.

Patrick squirmed. “If they knew you were safe to be around… to touch… that could change things for you. That could change the way they see you.”

Sighing, Thomas ran his thumb down Patrick’s side. “I think it’s too little too late,” he admitted delicately.

"But you've changed. God, why is everyone else so fucking blind?"

He shuddered and sighed, tapering off as Thomas traced fingers along his front and back. Feeling him. Memorizing him. It was all too easy to forget himself and lean into that gentle touch, like a flower starved for a taste of sunlight.

"It's alright, Red. I've known the end was coming for a long time now. I'm ready."

“No.” Patrick shook his head, dropping a frustrated fist against Thomas’s chest. “No, no, it’s unfair. They can’t kill you now. It wouldn’t be right.”

The giant took a shuddering breath, the first crack in his composure. “It’s what everyone wants,” he said flatly.

“It’s not what I want.”

Thomas’s hand suddenly became a much greater weight. The fingers cast Patrick in shadow as they closed in around him, picking him up gently. This time, he voiced no complaint as he was lifted into the air.

When his head cleared, he was staring the giant straight in the face from above. Doleful gratitude shone in Thomas’s eyes as they regarded him. “That’s, you know, great and everything,” he mumbled, arching a brow. “But what the hell can you do about it?”

Patrick wriggled so he could lean down and give the giant a hard look. "I could help you."

Thomas was expressionless. "How?"

"I… I dunno. If they won't see reason at your final evaluation, maybe I could do something. I could get you out."

"No," Thomas said at once, fingers tightening. "They'll shoot you on sight."

"If I do nothing, you'll die, and it won't be nearly quick as a gunshot," Patrick fired back, nearly losing his balance right over that pretty face.

“How exactly do you think you’re gonna just bust me out of-” he cut himself off, eyes darting to the corners of the room. “No one can hear us now, right?” he murmured.

Patrick shook his head. “No cameras, no sound. It’s just me and you.”

“You can’t get me out of range of this facility without anyone noticing, Red,” he continued. “Hell, you couldn’t even get me out of this cell on your own. It’s illegal for a human officer to escort a Juren prisoner alone. We’ll be nabbed before we even leave the block.”

“I’ll come for you after hours,” Patrick persisted. “Hardly anyone is around for the midnight shift.”

Thomas looked unsettled by the idea. Patrick liked that- surprising him.

"If we moved fast we could have a chance then," the giant conceded. "But you… you could never step foot in here again. You can't give up everything like that."

"I'm getting sick of this place, anyway," Patrick joked weakly. But the truth was, it wasn't a joke and he knew neither of them were ignorant of that. He dug his little fingers into Thomas's perfect ones, his brown eyes imploring like a child's. "Thomas, if the others could see you for who you were, they'd do this for you too."

Thomas snorted. “No they wouldn't. They would be wanted for the rest of their life. No one would give up their normal life like that for me.”

Heart pounding, Patrick swallowed his nerves and looked the giant dead in the eye. “I would.”

His breath hitched as the hand moved, and suddenly he was much, much closer to Thomas. He could feel the aromatic heat of his breath as it ruffled his hair. It did something to calm his racing heart.

“You're worth the risk,” Patrick asserted. “I don't care if it means we have to run away together. I just can't go on with my life knowing I could have saved you and didn't try.”

He had never seen that look on Thomas's face before. Short of words, breathless. Patrick wondered if he was the only person in the entire world that got to see it.

"I knew you were something incredible," Thomas croaked.

Patrick cracked a smile. "What will you do when you get out?"

"You mean if."

"When," Patrick insisted. His eyes shone bright as Thomas smiled softly at this and pursed his lips.

"I'll find my way onto that ferry. We'll get out of the country, head to France or Sweden. Somewhere quiet, somewhere new. For both of us."

He wants me with him, Patrick thought with a thrill. Still, a pang of dread niggled in his stomach. “It won’t be that simple. Anything could go wrong.”

“Of course it won’t. But we’ll make it.”

Patrick grunted a laugh. “You have enough optimism for the two of us. Doesn’t make me any more confident this will work.”

The giant merely raised an eyebrow. "But you'll come with me," he said, and it was no longer a question.

How could he refuse him? The idea of losing this magnetic feeling was almost worse than the concept of being caught and killed.

"Anywhere," Patrick answered.

Patrick felt himself turn to jelly as Thomas brushed his thumb against his cheek, grazing against his fire-red hair. The killer in him was far away; banished from this perfect moment. Then, Patrick froze, ears prickling with the sound of distant movement. It was impossible to tell whether it was stirring from the next-door prisoners or something more.

How long have I been in here? He suddenly wondered. It had felt like only a minute but his watch told otherwise.

"Shit. Put me down, quick, I've got to get back to my rounds."

The urgency in Patrick’s voice had Thomas’s fingers spring open, dropping their catch with a strained grunt onto his hard chest.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Patrick waved him off as he scrambled to the giant’s vast shoulder and slid down, throwing himself back onto the hovercraft. Without thinking, he slammed his hands against the tablet, freeing Thomas of his restraints before even opening a hatch in the forcefield.

As the giant rose from the cot, the hovercraft slipped through the humming barrier, which sealed behind it. Rubbing the mark on his throat, Thomas took a slow step towards it, then another.

“You won’t forget what you said, will you?” The Jüren’s voice almost sounded… vulnerable. “You will help me.”

The hovercraft paused in the air. “I promise. You’re going to survive this. Even if I have to make sure of it myself,” Patrick vowed.

Thomas’s smile returned, tentative. Even as Patrick set the cameras rolling again, their tell-tale beep echoing in the chamber, the giant kept his gaze fixed on him.

“I’ll see you around, Red.”

His hand rose to Patrick’s level, pressing gently against the shimmering surface between them. There was only a short pause before Patrick, too, reached out, and their palms connected on either side of the prison wall. His hand looked tiny compared to the Jüren’s, not even big enough to cover a single fingertip of Thomas’s - and yet in that moment, they seemed a perfect match to each other.
Metamorphosis || EIGHT
Believe it or not only a couple chapters left! Stay tuned for the big finale!

Co-written by MentalcaseVole!
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Obsess-Confess
Little Miss Maggie
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Finally uploaded a pic of myself!
I'm a college student, majoring in character animation. My dream is to work at Pixar Animation Studios.
I love to draw people. The human body is a master piece in and of itself. I don't have a lot of my serious art on this account, but that might change.
I gravitate towards romantic subjects, or very emotional things. I like feeling something when I create. In a weird way, the mood of the piece possesses me while I make it.
I love art, writing, and discovering new ideas. I'm always up for a GT roleplay, or doing sketch trades.
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:icontp32:
tp32 Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2019
Hi,

How are you doing ?

Glad it is going to be in the 50s this weekend. crazy weather.

Yesterday, I had some friends over to play board games. We played Cat Lady Old Maid it was fun, some of the cat's names on the cards were cute, like Flutter Nutter, Greta, Colnel Snuggle Bottoms, I think is my favorite.

I miss your stories.
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:icontp32:
tp32 Featured By Owner Jul 14, 2018
Happy Birthday !!
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:iconrot8erconex:
Rot8erConeX Featured By Owner Jul 14, 2018
Happy birthday
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:iconwhitebearboy:
whitebearboy Featured By Owner Jul 14, 2018
Happy Birthday!
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:icontinyliltina:
TinylilTina Featured By Owner Jul 14, 2018  Student Writer
Happy birthday, and may you have a good many more!
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:icontorn-b-i-a-s:
Torn-B-I-a-S Featured By Owner Jul 14, 2018
happy birthday!
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Hells-Angel-Forever Featured By Owner Jul 13, 2018  Hobbyist Artist
Happy B'day :cake:
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:iconredwalls666:
RedWalls666 Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2018
Hi, was the story called The Doll House taken down or was it written by someone else? I read it awhile ago and I reread it a lot and I can't seem to remember clearly but I was sure you were the one that wrote it. I didn't care that it wasn't finished and/or that it died I just enjoyed the interactions.
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Sweetiebe11e2 Featured By Owner Dec 8, 2018  Hobbyist Artist
I think it was written by someone else.
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:iconbethelina:
Bethelina Featured By Owner Jul 15, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
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