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About Deviant Member A Quirk of ArtFemale/Canada Group :iconclassycupcakes: ClassyCupcakes
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Without thinking, Matthew ran and ran.  He let the trees surround him, wishing with all his might that they would block out his feelings.  As the forest grew denser, Matthew was forced to slow down.  His instincts told him he should turn back, but in that moment, his sadness was stronger than his instincts.  There was no way he was returning to the cabin.  There were no more hard decisions he’d force himself to face.

The birds kept singing overhead, and to Matthew, it seemed almost rude of them to carry on like that.  He recalled how he used to think of the birds and squirrels as his friends; that was before he met Alfred.  It wasn’t fair that he would have to give up Alfred.  

Matthew sobbed.  He wanted someone to comfort him, but everyone he loved was so far away in so many ways.  Soon, the forest floor was so thick with plant life that Matthew had to change directions.  He spied a clearing a short distance away and made his way over to it.  When he had nearly reached gentler ground, his foot caught on a tree root.  He fell upon a cluster of sharp twigs and thorny weeds.  The clean, grassy ground taunted him from about a metre away.

Sobbing louder, Matthew sat up.  He examined his arms, which had absorbed the brunt of the fall.  There were many scratches, some of which were bleeding.

“It’s not fair!” Matthew cried to the forest floor.

“What’s not fair, little one?” said a voice.  Matthew gasped.  He looked up to see a dark-haired woman standing over him.  She offered her hand and helped him into the clearing.  The two of them dusted the leaves off of Matthew.  Suddenly remembering something, Matthew’s hands flew to his shirt button.  His maple leaf from Alfred was, thankfully, still there.  The woman, who looked rather familiar for some reason, smiled down at him.

Out under proper sunlight, Matthew looked at the woman once more.  He couldn’t believe it.  Unmistakably, she was the person in Arthur’s picture.  Matthew tried to speak.  He had so many questions, but words failed him.  The woman knelt to his height.

“You’ll be alright,” she said, examining the scratches on him.  “My house isn’t far from here, so we can get that cleaned out in just a moment.”

“I... I know you...” Matthew whispered.  The woman’s gaze travelled from his arms up to his face.  Puzzled, she looked deep into his eyes.  Soon, her own eyes lit up with a flash of recognition.

“Kanata?” she asked.

“I... think so?” Matthew replied.  The woman gently grasped a lock of Matthew’s golden blond hair.

“You look so different since you went into your fathers’ custody,” she said, an edge of sadness in her voice.  “Both Arthur and Francis have made their mark on you, it seems.”

Matthew curled his pale hand around her tan wrist, wishing to hold her close to him forever.  More memories came rushing back.  Her voice.  Her scent.  Her warmth.

“Mother!” he cried, burying himself in a hug.  She squeezed him tightly.

“Yes, my little Kanata,” she said.  “You’ve finally come home, if only for a little while.”

Reluctantly, Matthew pulled back.  He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand.

“Only a little while?” he asked.  “What do you mean?”

Matthew’s mother sighed.

“Your father made some very particular arrangements,” she said flatly, getting to her feet.  “Arthur, I mean.”

“So I can’t - wait, what?  Arthur is my father?”

Matthew’s mother nodded.

“And Alfred’s as well,” she said.  “You are brothers by nature as well as by... whatever it is Arthur and Francis have concerned themselves with.”  Once again, Matthew was overwhelmed by conflicting thoughts.  If his family was much closer than he initially thought, why were they all further apart than he could ever imagine?  If Arthur was his father, then he did indeed have a home as a British colony.  But that would pull him even further away from his papa.  These paradoxes were made all the more stressful since he’d finally met his mother, only to learn he could never get close to her again.  Fresh tears began to fall.

“Don’t cry, little one,” Matthew’s mother said.  “Let’s go back to my house and deal with those cuts, first of all.”  Matthew nodded.  He let her scoop him up and carry him across the field.
Beginnings, Chapter Nine
Nnnot sure if anyone is reading this story, but, I don't care. :XD: I like it and I'm finishing it anyway.
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Tonight was the fourth rainy night in a row.  Between the cloudy days and stormy nights, Arthur hadn’t see the sun in forever.  Not that he missed it.

“Not that I miss anything at all,” he said aloud, turning the picture frame around.  He debated throwing the photo away.  It wasn’t like he wanted to see that loudmouth’s goofy, bespectacled face every time he walked into his study.

Outside, the wind howled.  Arthur shut the study door behind him, hoping to make the large room seem cozier.  It was on nights like these that Arthur’s mind tended to wander.

So many memories haunted him.  Every drop of rain that fell made him think of all the wasted seconds.  The little boy who admired his every action somehow grew into the young man who would rather face death than stay by his side.  Whatever had gone wrong, it was always itchingly beyond Arthur’s grasp.

“No,” Arthur said to himself.  He wouldn’t let himself be swept up in these same old thoughts again.  What happened after that world meeting was a one-time occurrence.  He knew that he and Alfred could never find true love together.  Not after what caused them to part ways in the first place.  As Arthur paced through his study, his gaze landed on his bookshelf.

“Of course,” he said.  “Reading always helps me take my mind off my problems.”  He skimmed the titles.  Love poems, more love poems, classic tales of romance...  Arthur regretted letting Francis buy books for him.  That’s when he spotted a dusty tome of ancient philosophy.  It held the promise of being wonderfully boring.  It was exactly what Arthur needed; something unemotional and ultimately inconsequential.  That and the falling rain might let him have a good night’s sleep.

Lifting the heavy book from the shelf, Arthur blew the dust off it.  A rather small amount of dust actually came off, but the action had a certain gravity to it that Arthur liked.  When he sat down to read, a folded piece of paper fell out.

Arthur unfolded it.  In an instant, he knew what it was.

“Hey, bro!

I’m just writing this letter to let u know I think your actually a really cool dude.  Like, it would be better if u didnt have a complete bug up ur butt all the time, but anyway, I like u.  I hope we can hang out more together.  I can teach u how to spell normally and stuff like that.

Piece out.
Alfred”

Sighing, Arthur let the letter drop to the ground.  The paper rustled as it landed.  Then silence consumed Arthur one more.  He groaned, wishing the night would be over.  Not that it made a difference.  Even when the sun was shining, he missed the young lummox terribly.

There was a knock at the door.  Arthur pulled himself out of his chair and traipsed down the hall to answer it.  He hoped it wasn’t Francis; he couldn’t take his antics now.  Grumbling, Arthur pulled the front door open.

Standing on his doorstep was the bespectacled blond in a bomber jacket.  He was soaked through.  His hair stuck to his face, save for that lone cowlick that was still somehow defying gravity.  His glasses were fogged up and covered with beads of water, making Arthur wonder how Alfred could even see well enough to find his way up the path.

“Hey, bro!” Alfred said.  He lunged forward, glomming onto Arthur and trapping him in a wet hug.  Hiding his smile, Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred in return.

“What brings you here, you dumb yank?”

Alfred cocked his head.  A spray of water droplets leapt from his hair and landed on Arthur’s sweater.

“I got lost on your weirdo reversed British road system,” he said.  “Can I stay over tonight?”

Alfred gestured to the stormy surroundings.


“It’s raining,” he explained.

“Yes, I know it’s raining,” Arthur snapped.  He pulled Alfred inside the house and closed the door behind him.  With an exasperated sigh that was purely for show, Arthur gestured for Alfred to remove his wet jacket and shoes.

“So... uh... Does that mean I can stay?” Alfred asked.  Arthur nodded.  He forced himself to scowl.

“You need to behave yourself, though,” Arthur said.  “I was looking forward to a peaceful night.  I trust you won’t disturb that.”

Alfred shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on top of the banister.  He rolled his eyes.  Then he looked around the cavernous house, which was much bigger than he’d remembered it.

“Whoa.  It’s quite a place you got here, dude.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you ever get lonely?”

Arthur scoffed.  He had suddenly forgotten what loneliness felt like.
When Arthur and Matthew pushed the cabin door open, they were met with the delicious smell of Francis’ cooking.  Whatever it was had been made with lots of butter and fresh herbs - and there was little left of the dish.

“I’ll bet you’re regretting not staying for lunch,” Francis said as he scrubbed the pan.  Arthur scoffed, refusing to admit how much he missed Francis’ cooking.

“Suit yourself,” said Francis.  He handed a cleaned dish toward Alfred so the child could dry it, but Alfred had already run off.  Matthew looked around and found Alfred bouncing on Arthur’s bed.  In mid-air, Alfred stuck his legs out in front of him, bounced to a sitting position, and let momentum take him off the bed.  He stopped inches away from Matthew, who flinched.

“You missed lunch,” Alfred said.  Matthew shrugged.  Even when enveloped in the scent of delicious food, Matthew still couldn’t think of eating.  Arthur’s words weighed heavily inside his stomach.  Looking at Alfred, Matthew felt like maybe he should say something, but he didn’t know what.  Once again, Alfred broke the silence.

“Help me find my toys,” Alfred said, grasping the handle of one of Arthur’s bags and pulling it out of the stack.  “I brought some but I don’t know where they are.”  Matthew took another one of Arthur’s luggage cases and fiddled with the clasp.  He didn’t feel up to making any big decisions right then and there.  Besides, a chance to play with Alfred was nothing to pass up.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to go through your dad’s stuff?” Matthew asked.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Alfred replied, tossing one of Arthur’s dress shirts to the floor.  Matthew carefully lifted the lid of the trunk he had unlatched.  This one was heavy; it was full of books.  Although he knew he should move on and not be nosy, he didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to see an English book.  Matthew could read a little bit in French, but English was still a mystery to him.  As he picked up the top book, something fluttered out and landed on the floor.  It was a picture - not a drawing, but a real daguerreotype.  Matthew had never seen one of those before.  It was haunting how the person in the picture looked exactly as they did in real life.

The woman in this picture had dark eyes and a kind smile.  Her shiny dark hair and high cheekbones were like nothing Matthew had ever seen before.  She wore a necklace of beads, and even though the picture was black and white, Matthew could tell the beads, in reality, were colourful.  He looked at her eyes again.  Something about them was terribly familiar.  He put his hand over his heart and unexpectedly bumped the maple leaf hanging from his shirt button.

“Alfred?” Matthew asked, turning the picture so Alfred could see it.  “Do you know who this is?”  Alfred took a good, long look.  Before he said anything, Arthur leaned in and grabbed the picture out of Matthew’s hands.

“And why, exactly, do you two think it’s okay to go rifling through other people’s personal belongings?”

Matthew crumpled in shame.  Alfred shrugged.  Muttering to himself, Arthur put his things back in order while gesturing for the children to leave.  Matthew scurried away, grabbing Alfred by the hand and dragging him with him.

“Is he angry?” Matthew asked in a hushed tone.

“Nah,” said Alfred, shrugging.  “He acts like that with me all the time.”

Before Matthew could really consider that, Alfred darted ahead toward the other side of the cabin.  The boys were still holding hands and Matthew let himself be carried along.  Alfred stopped in front of Francis, who showed them a smile as he stirred a large bowl of cake batter.  Something about that just made Matthew’s heart break.  It was impossible.  There was no way he could leave Papa’s cakes, Papa’s smiles, Papa’s language.  Papa’s love.

But there was also no way he could do without Alfred’s boldness and vivacious nature.  And he’d been offered a place in the British Empire!  If he went to stay at Arthur’s house, he would have the love and attention of the world’s strongest nation.  He would have a special title and a secure future and... and... and English books!  Did it really have to be one or the other?

“Matthew?” Francis asked.  Matthew blinked, forcing himself to focus on the present moment.  Francis held out a batter-covered spoon, which Matthew accepted with a quiet, “Merci, Papa.”  Alfred had already licked his own spoon clean.

The taste of the batter made Matthew cry.  The thought of never cooking with his papa again was too much.

“What’s wrong?” Francis and Alfred asked together.  Both family members looked at him with such concern.  Matthew knew that after this birthday, they would never all be together again.  More tears fell, clouding his vision.  Unable to speak, Matthew ran out of the cabin.  The teardrops formed hot streaks down his face as he disappeared into the forest.
Bad Touch Trio Awkward Roses by CaptainQuirk
Bad Touch Trio Awkward Roses
I clicked that this has moderate nudity because... I don't know if this counts as nudity.  That's the point of the roses, anyway. 

Please nevermind how terrible the anatomy is.  I just thought this would be a conversation the BTT would have.  Come on, you know France would get his friends to try this.  :iconfrancesmileplz:
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Since the start of October, I've been working on animating Monsterville myself.  It's, uh, not going so well.  I'm doing my best but it still looks horrible, to the point where someone in a meeting actually laughed at me and told me it would never be taken seriously.  Thing is... he's right.  It looks like garbage.  If I'm totally honest with myself, yes, it is horrible.

And I have had positive encouragement (from people in the industry) too, but only from people who hadn't seen my work and are just impressed that I'm crazy enough to keep this thing going for five years.  Apparently, the tenacity is good, but... yeah.

So, I'm not giving up on the project.  I still want to make a full episode.  At least one.  And I have had friends so kind as to volunteer their voices to help bring the characters to life - I'm not wasting that.  So, maybe I will return to the much-less-frustrating, much-less-time-consuming version where it's just a solid picture that changes every couple of seconds.  I'd rather it be fully animated, but I've been told time and time again to just hire a professional studio for 15 thousand bucks.  Guess what.  I don't have 15 thousand bucks.  I have two jobs right now and neither of them pay any money.  So that ain't gonna happen.  Maybe I just need to look at what's the most efficient use of my time.

I'm just wondering if this is "worth it" worth it.  I mean, let's say I release the garbage homemade version of this to the world.  Can I use it to crowdfund something better?  Is this going anywhere?  Or is it just going to make it harder for me to get my next internship because, ew, that project was so ugly.  So... I don't know what to do.

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CaptainQuirk
A Quirk of Art
Canada
I'm Tamara. My life is pretty awesome. I'm an intern on a TV show and my dog is brilliant.
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:iconmodounbubble:
ModounBubble Featured By Owner 2 days ago
Thanks for the llama! You have some amazing idea s of your art work and literature:D (Big Grin) (Sorry if I use the wrong grammer)
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:iconmasterthunda22:
MasterThunda22 Featured By Owner Nov 8, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the llama!
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:icondancingsitar09:
DancingSitar09 Featured By Owner Nov 8, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you oh-so-much for the llama!
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:iconmagic3c:
Magic3C Featured By Owner Nov 2, 2014
Thank so much for the llama :D
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:iconroseraven28:
roseraven28 Featured By Owner Oct 19, 2014  New member Hobbyist General Artist
thank you for the :llama:
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:iconalltimeopheliac:
alltimeOpheliac Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2014
Thank you for the Llama...an important part of life 
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:iconkiramaru7:
kiramaru7 Featured By Owner Oct 12, 2014
Thanks for the llama! :hug:
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:iconqueenmimi011:
QueenMimi011 Featured By Owner Oct 11, 2014  Student Traditional Artist
Thank you for the llama! I have named him Salexandiir, and he lives on my llama farm with his parents, Kingsley and Missy, and his other friends and relatives. He's going to be so happy, thank you for sending him to The Queen's Llama Farm! :D
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:iconcaptainquirk:
CaptainQuirk Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2014
Oh... my.  That is the best comment.
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:iconnayawhovian1016:
NayaWhovian1016 Featured By Owner Oct 7, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the llama
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