Unicorn's Art Topic

This pon approves. Now go post art.

By Kelly!

OH GOD WHY DID YOU POST RETARD BUNNY. XD

Btw, ik post hier ook ff stukjes verhaal net als Poncho, die ik MISSCHIEN-HEEL MISSCHIEN in mini-comics wil veranderen;

Amo fell silent. He never really did tell many people about this, let alone in this much detail. He looked at his beerglass and was toppling it to have some distraction.
"You tell me something now.. What happened when you were under Lucian's control?"
Bryce began to talk about what he experienced with that filthy demon. Amo sometimes looked at him, but mostly just stared at his glass. Everything the man said sounded so sad.
"And yeah.. that's kinda what happened," Bryce finished his story.
Amo had finished his beer and looked at the vampire with emotion in his eyes, drunk as fuck. He threw himself onto Bryce will keeping his balance no the barstool, hugging him tightly.
"That sounds so awful!" he uttered.
Bryce grinned, surprised and tried to not fall over from the man's weight on him. He gave him somewhat of a hug back, he felt awkward but it didn't feel bad.
"You should never be drunk again man. Next time you'll kiss me."

Linda M. Degarmo
For a moment a man stood beside the gravestone, his lips tightly pressed together. It had been so long since he came back, back to Paris. He felt that he needed to visit his mother again, he hadn't paid his respect in too long and no matter how difficult it was.. He needed to see her. Or well, in some shape or form. This gravestone was the only thing that he could talk to, but it would suffice.
"Mom.." he whispered softly.
He kneeled down in front of his mother's name, carefully engraved on the dark grey marble. With a gentle touch of his fingers, he followed the letters until the end.
"I'm so sorry".

He stood up and turned his gaze to the street beside the graveyard. It was cold outside, the winter was awaiting it's turn in the seasonal cycle. The man took a slow breath in, and exhaled, visible in the cold air. Carefully he wrapped his wool scarf around his chin and started walking. The streets seemed abandoned, yet many people passed him by. Maybe it was just him. His goal was the only thing in mind, he came here for one purpose. Meeting his mother again was one smaller part, but the main goal was his father.. He was scared. If it was the cold making him shiver or the dread of having to face his dad, he could not tell. But he did know it had to be done.
"Excuse me m'am," he asked politely whilst showing a passerby his charming smile, "I seem to have lost my way around here. Where would Square de la Trinité be?"
Why did he even ask? He knew his way around, but he wanted to do anything to delay his visit to his old house.
"Just go straight on here, take a left at the liquor store and keep walking until you see the square on your right," she answered.
He simply nodded as a thank you and resumed his small journey. Not long after he encountered the liquor store. He faintly remembered this place. How could he not? This had to be his father's favorite store, he visited it daily. He shook his head and walked on. No time to dilly-dally, no time to waste. He needed to get this over with. Otherwise he would never be able to let the past go.
"I hope you're ready dad.." he mumbled under his breath, "because i'm most definitely not".

Step by step, every tile was another tile closer. He looked intently at his feet. If he would look at his old home it would only upset him, though he knew he had to finally man up and take responsibility for his actions. The fountain. From the corner of his eye, there it was. Almost like a wooden doll, he turned his head. His brown eyes were without emotion and his lips had formed a tense line. He began to walk, now faster paced. His eyes were locked on the house that had been his home for years. It looked exactly the same. He was stopped in his steps by his own anxiety and confusion. He hadn't planned this trip, he hadn't thought it through. His hands had formed into fists, his skin turned white at the knuckles from the pressure. Could he do it? he wondered. He wasn't a strong-willed man, he was no superhero and he was no real adult either. His age might have counted twenty-nine years, but his thoughts and actions were still in a twenty year old's state of mind. Even though his mind was still pondering, his physique had other plans. He took another step, and another, until he was face-to-face with the door. He raised his hand to press the little doorbell on the right upper corner.

"Thomas?"
The man's head turned to the direction of the voice, his finger still doubtingly frozen before the bell. His eyes narrowed, checking to see if he knew or remembered the woman peeking out of her door next to him.
"It's Thomas isn't it.. Oh young boy.."
Her voice leaked of pity. She was an elderly woman, around ninety years old, wearing a flower-printed dress and her slippers. Something began to dawn on him.
"Mrs. Bernard..?" he said carefully.
She nodded with a smile and walked up to him.
"Yes, i'm glad you remember me dear.. Come inside for a moment, please, I insist."
The man was slightly baffled and looked at the door. He finally had put himself to ringing the doorbell. If he followed her now he might not have the guts again.
"Sorry mrs. Bernard," he spoke with a smile, "I should really-"
"Please," she interrupted him sternly, "come with me".
He nodded. It seemed important, so he would await what she wanted to say. The short woman laid her hand on his lower back and gently pushed him towards her opened front door. She presented a short laugh.
"Well you got big and buff didn't you dear?"
"Thanks, i guess so huh?"
He smiled back at her, nervous; but nonetheless happy he ran into someone he knew. He wiped his shoes on the doormat and entered. Mrs. Bernard closed the door behind him and led him into the living room, where he was offered a place to sit and some coffee.
"Some coffee would be nice, yes."
"Milk and sugar dear?"
"Yes please."

She left for the kitchen, and as he heard the old-fashioned coffeemaker humming, his eyes turned to a few photographs on the mantelpiece. They all portrayed mrs. Bernard with her husband. He could faintly remember they never had children.
"Here you go dear.."
He smiled at her and gave her a small thank you, when she put his mug on the table. When she wanted to return to the kitchen, he offered to help, but was denied. She slowly walked back and sat down on the chair facing the couch he was sitting on. He picked up his coffee and took a sip. Mrs. Bernard's coffee wasn't great, but he was too polite to mention this.
"Why have you decided to come back Thomas?" she asked with a soft voice.
He took a deep breath through the nose and put his mug back on the table.
"To visit my mother's grave, and to speak with my father about everything."
He knew she had been aware of everything that happened. She was like a sister to his mother, but he was too young to really speak with her a lot at that time. But what he did remember, was that she was a sweet woman who cared too much about people she barely knew.
"Where.. is mr. Bernard?" he whispered painfully.
The woman sighed and looked out her window while she spoke. "Passed away, three years ago".
Thomas looked to the ground. "I see, i'm sorry for your loss m'am.."
For a moment, but what seemed like hours on, they were both silent. He might not have known the man, any loss was painful. Especially when it reminded him of his mother.

"Dear.. I know you came to see your father but.." she tapped on the mug with her nails, "I'm afraid to say he as well.. passed on.."
It was as if his heart stopped beating for a moment. "W-what?" he uttered.
He could not grasp that his father had taken his last breath. His hatred for the man was as alive as ever. From all of the things he thought of when being scared of this trip, this was not one of them. It couldn't be.. He covered his mouth with his hand while he stared at his mug on the table, in disbelief. Mrs. Bernard turned her gaze to him and put her hand on his lap.
"I'm so sorry sweetheart.. He had a heart attack. It was natural honestly, he was of age."
He simply nodded to her friendly words. Why was he even upset by these turn of events? He hated him, despised him. For years he wished the man would die a slow and painful death. And yet.. it hurt. He looked at the trees outside the window. Now he could never get closure.
"We made sure the house was left for you, to decide what happens to it. Your father never made a will.. I have the key, come on, i'll walk with you".
She grabbed the key out of a cubbard and looked back at him. He got up from the couch and put his hand on her shoulder, slightly shaking from shock and anger.
"Can I do this alone..? I need to be alone for a bit.."
The woman nodded and gave him the key. He smiled at her.
"Thank you, really."
He had to keep himself together. Even though the shock was still controlling his thoughts and actions, he left her house and approached his 'own'. He hadn't noticed the evening falling, nor how cold it had gotten. He hid his hands in his coat pockets, shivering, taking those final steps towards his former home. When he stepped up to the door, he stared at the key in his hand for a moment, before entering.

The door made a horrible sound before it revealed the familiar hallway. Thomas' eyes were focussed on the living room at the end of it, for a moment. He closed the door and slowly walked through the hallway, his shoes clicking on the old wood. Endless pairs of eyes stared back at him as he slowly progressed, his own, his mother's and his.. father's. How happy they looked. What a charade. Well, it did teach him to smile when times were bad. Involuntarily it made him smile a bit. He stopped at the last picture. It was obvious here that his mother was in a bad state, yet Thomas himself looked so content in the frame. He clenched his fists. If only he'd done more, if only he hadn't been the ignorant child he was then. He walked into the living room. In all honesty, he didn't even know what he was doing there. He knew now that his father had passed away, he knew there was nobody that could help him release his feeling of guilt now. His hands were shaking and all color had dissapeared from his face. Everything was in the same state as he could remember, some furniture had taken a new place, but nothing else. He saw his father's old desk and walked towards it. For a moment his eye twitched, when he noticed a few empty bottles in the corner of the desk. He smoothed his hair with his big hand. He felt anger overcoming him, his face turning red and his eyes widening.

"YOU ASSHOLE!!" he yelled.
He reached out over the desk and swiped everything off in a moment of rage. The sound of glass breaking, he didn't care for it. Some items were not swept away and were still laying peacefully on the desk, but he quickly changed this by throwing everything he could find on the ground. His breath was quickened, his heart was pounding in his throat.
"You're a filthy liar!" his voice changed pitch as he screamed into the empty room.
"I will NEVER forgive you, EVER! You killed my mother! It was you!"
He grabbed the desk and gave a rough pull to it, throwing it over onto the wooden floor. Every emotion that he had hidden all these years..
"I hate you! You continued to beat her up EVERY single DAY!!"
He remained quiet for a moment, to catch his breath. He was breathing heavily with his hands on his knees and his eyes fixated on the ground. Softly he could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. When he calmed down slightly, he stood up straight. The anger was still racing through his veins, but he got scared of himself. Thomas was a man that simply did not get angry. But this had driven him to insanity for years on. He kneeled down to pick up the desk again, to put it in its rightful place, when a piece of paper fell out. He put the desk straight up and picked up the little piece of paper with confusion written in his eyes. Thomas didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't what was written on there.
"What is this.." he mumbled softly.
15-05-1974
To my son and late wife,

I know I have caused you both pain in our time together. I'm sorry. I cannot emphasize how sorry I am, but I know it's too late. The stress from the aftermath of the war had broken me. I never intended to hurt you both this much, resulting in my true love's death.. Thomas, if you are reading this, I am sorry. Though I understand if you throw this letter into the garbage. I never meant to give you the childhood you had. I am spending my days now trying to better my life, trying to stop drinking. It's difficult contacting you, but I want to at least try and speak to you. Maybe.. maybe you could write me back. I'm so sorry my son.. I've been terrible, and I do not expect forgiveness, but I hope to at least read how you are holding up.

Sincerely,
your father.


Before Thomas could reach the closure of the letter, he threw it through the room and stepped back, until his back hit the wall where he collapsed. He raised his hands to his face, hiding his expression. Tears began flowing down his cheeks uncontrollably. His shoulders shook and his legs gave in, making him slide onto the floor. There he sat for minutes.. maybe an hour, crying.
"Why do you make it difficult now, for me to hate you.."
His voice changed in tone and he violently wiped the tears from his face. He wanted to hate the man so bad, but now that he found this letter.. confusion arrised. It didn't change what had happened in the past, but it did change his view of his father. And what was he to do if he didn't have the hatred to hang on to.. For a moment he felt completely lost. He didn't even bother wiping his tears anymore, they just dried up on his cheeks. Suddenly the ringtone of his cellphone was heard. He opened the phone and checked the name on the screen without emotion in his eyes.

Liv <3

For a moment he just stared at the screen, but he answered soon after, numbed by the crying episode he had just experienced.
"Hey how is it going over there?"
"Fine, it's going fine."
A short silence was heard through the phone. "Bullshit. You don't sound okay.. Fuck, I know I shouldn't have let you go on your own."
He smiled faintly. "What, are we worried?" He teased.
"What? Well. No I.. I just wanted to check".
Thomas let out a small laugh. She was as stubborn as ever, her pride in the way of telling him what she really felt. But he knew.
"Don't laugh! Just.. come home soon okay? Or should I.. come over there?".
He closed his eyes and smiled, genuinely this time.
"No no, sweetheart. I'll come back with the next plane.. Wait for me tonight?"

When Amo and Bryce returned from their night of drinking, they didn't exactly come home subtly. Bryce was supporting Amo, who was flopping everywhere while trying to keep standing.
"Shhhhh" Bryce whispered and he chuckled.
Amo snorted and closed the door as softly as possible. They then tip-toed through the house, almost fell a few times and replied to this with soft giggling.
"Hey, shh, look..!"
Amo pointed to the couch while almost falling over, only to be caught by Bryce. They both laid eyes on a sleeping Liv, apparantly out cold, since she didn't even wake up from their loud entrance. Bryce grinned and whispered; "How about we play a prank on her?"
"Oeh! like putting her hand in water?" Amo replied with enthousiasm.
"No you idiot, something more creative."
Both of them thought for a moment, frowning and looking at the poor victim in front of them. Not long after, Amo tapped Bryce on the chest, practically jumping up and down while grinning.
"How about we give her a mustache and a beard with some whipped cream?"
Bryce laughed with his hand before his mouth. That would be an awesome idea. He let Amo stand on his own and walked towards the fridge. He looked in the fridge, grabbed the whipped cream and closed the door, only to find that Amo had fallen over on the floor, chuckling. Bryce laughed too and shook up the whipped cream.
"Ready?"
Amo crawled back on his feet and grabbed the whipped cream from Bryce's hand.
"Ready!"
He carefully painted a mustache and goatee on her face, tongue sticking out from the effort he was putting into it. Bryce grabbed his stomach which was now stinging like hell from laughing. He had to wipe some tears away.
"You wanna add something buddy?" Amo asked.
He gave Bryce the whipped cream and almost burst out laughing when looking at Liv's 'hairy' face. Bryce shook the thing up again and elegantly 'painted' two nipples over her shirt. Amo had lost it by now and fell flat on his back, laughing his ass off. This, however, woke Liv up. Bryce stood completely frozen. Amo stood up, not realising she had woken up. When he did notice, he froze as well.
"Stay still.. they respond to movement," he whispered.

"Look we gotta kill him."
"I can't, okay!?"
Amo looked at the werewolf that was sitting on a chair, bound just like he and Liv were once. He knew the man was going to change any second, and could kill them when he did. But he just didn't have the courage to shoot the man. It felt like a human being, besides, even if it wasn't Amo probably did not have the guts to kill it.
"Fine, i'll do it you pussy." Liv proclaimed.
Amo didn't object, he knew it had to be done. He felt like such an idiot. But Liv also seemed different.. She never killed anyone this easily. When she killed the man, Amo closed his eyes, he didnt want to see. What was going on with her..?

notes to self voor short comics;

Kao die voor de deur staat voor party en STIPT op tijd komt (checkt watch terwijl hij voor de deur wacht, want hij mag niet te vroeg komen in zijn ogen). Dan duurt het ff voor de persoon opendoet en is hij alsnog 'te laat'.

Damiën en Jason meeting:
Jason: *Shows teeth*
Damien: "Well this turned out to be an interesting situation" *grin*
Jason: "Wait what?"
Damien: *transforms his head into a wolf's and growls at him*
JAson: "WTF"