#I've had a half finished piece inspired by little miss why so and now I may ACTUALLY finish it

[kell-stitches]

[awkwaamo]

So, in the process of trying to get my partner into one of my childhood favorites, Winx Club, the brain gremlins took hold of me and I am now in the process of creating a rewrite. Not the entirety of canon, but definitely the first three seasons and throwing in some extra stuff from other seasons that I really enjoyed as well as some of my own personal flair.

That being said, a rewrite obviously has to come with redesigns and I have literally just finished up everyone's first transformation

Layla, or Aisha, is up first! I did really enjoy her original design (honestly, they're all wonderful) but it just wasn't going to work for my AU. Considering she's from a planet that is dominated by water, as well as being related to actual mermaids, I absolutely had to add in more mermaid traits. So we have wings that look and act similar to dorsal fins in the water which makes her an exceptionally fast swimmer, almost on par with her cousins. Then, of course, I had to include shells in there. The shells that function as her heels are angel wing shells and a horn snail shell.

Musa, oh Musa. Her original was lovely but it just didn't have enough punk inspiration. Luckily I was more than happy to provide a little in the form of shorts and a half skirt on top of wonderful boots with buckles. I did keep the sheer centerpiece though because I really wanted to pay some respect to the original. Also, and this is just my personal opinion, space buns are superior. My shining glory of this design has to be the wings, though. The bass clefs are wonderful but to top it all off I had to add the CD shine. It was a necessity. Also, if you haven't noticed the fact that her arm accessories mirror Layla/Aisha's, now is the time to notice. SoundWave will be a thing in this AU.

Flora needed more green! She deserves a little green considering she's a nature fairy and how else would I incorporate it other than vines? Especially considering she uses vine attacks all the time! Also that rose inspired skirt was a pain to do but so worth it. If anyone deserves a rose skirt, it's Flora.

While I do love Tecna, her original always felt like it was missing something so, after some scrolling through sci-fi stuff, I added the cropped jacket to it and more green for her as well. The ear piece actually extends into a helmet with a retractable visor, I'll probably post another image with it on full display another time.

Another thing to add is that there is a criminal shortage of Flora x Tecna content to the point that I haven't even seen a fun little ship name for them. So, I'll just be using BioTech.

Getting right into Stella's redesign, starting with the wings! I did like her original wings but with her being the fairy of the sun I kind of just spread them out similar to the way rays of light look. As for her outfit, I really wanted to add onto the ethereal kind of look with gorgeous drapery similar to what you see in depictions of goddesses but with a modern twist! Hence the underbust and other additions.

Bloom but much more draconian. As she deserved considering she's the keeper of the dragon fire. Dragon wings. Dragon scales. Need I say more? Yes, actually. Her boots are more armor like, which was fun but not the best part. The silver chains, the necklace, the gemstones. They're made to be a mirror to Stella's because SolarFlare is absolutely iconic. They deserve each other so much and it is my mission to highlight this fact.

I have so much planned for this AU. So many ideas that I've already noted down and places I want to go with this, I can't wait to get started.

And I literally just realized that this AU needs an actual name, so I'm going to go with Psyche. The reasons why will become clear later. 💜

[achitka]

Butterflies

Chapter 31: Butterflies

So it's day 31...Can't believe I managed to write something every day...was a good challenge. Gonna miss that. Also my thanks to everyone that participated. I've enjoyed writing, reading and looking at so many wonderful works of art here on tumblr. Extra, extra thanks for the crew running the event. @encantober-official I've had a blast writing all month. I feel a lotta bit of inspiration to work on my other fic. . That said off we go...day 31 Is Camilo that much of a jerk...

Mirabel and Camilo were together in Camilo’s room learning to make small boats out of paper. The book they were using was very beat up. It had survived two house fires and many a re-read. Camilo flipped through the pages, fascinated by the pictures of people inside. The came from a faraway place called ‘The Orient’ and their face shapes were new to him.

“Hey,” Mirabel said, “Go back to the directions for a sec, I think I missed a step.”

Camilo set the book on the floor and turned back to the page. Mirabel scanned the page and half way down she frowned, “Yep…” she sighed and tossed the incomplete boat behind her and got another piece of paper. Camilo flipped toward the end of the book and nudged his prima. Mirabel looked at it and smiled.

“You think we can make it? I mean we’re struggling to make a boat.”

“You’re struggling to make a boat,” Camilo said, “I am not being helpful, sans no struggling…see how this works out for me?”

“Whatever,” Mirabel said, “Let me read this.”

Camilo leaned back against his bed and thought about the drawing of the people in the books. He felt his face shift but didn’t get up to look at it. He was pretty sure it matched the face on page 93.

“What are you doing?” Mirabel asked. She was holding a razor blade and Camilo shifted back to himself.

“What are you doing?” Camilo asked back.

“Wow, short attention span much? I need you to hold the paper while I cut out the shapes,” she said and pushed the paper over to him. There were three different colors, purple, blue and yellow. “I’m going to try and cut them all at the same time.”

“How long is that going to take?”

“I don’t know, it’s pretty intricate.”

“Longer than five minutes?

“Why did you agree to help if you’re not going to help?”

“Fair point, but how long?”

“You know what, never mind. I’ll finish it myself,” Mirabel said as she gathered up the paper, string and glue. Camilo went to reach for the book and Mirabel snapped it shut and picked that up as well. “I need this,” she said and was up and out the door.

Camilo looked at the door for a while trying to decide if he should go after her. Truth was, he didn’t want to help make any gifts for Abuela and he couldn’t understand why Mirabel would want to. They way she talked to her, the just mean things she would say…as far as he was concerned, she didn’t deserve them. Antonio’s fifth birthday was less than six months away and his parents and little brother were already stressing out about it. While he wanted Antonio to get a Gift, he also did not.

Camilo got up and pulled on his ruana and shoes. He walked outside and around the house to the back garden. Mira was right where he knew she would be. She always came here when she was mad at him. He heard her let out a curse as the page she was working on ripped.

“Need some help?” he asked. Mirabel looked up from what she was doing and shook her head as she pulled out another piece of paper. Camilo glanced at the pages that had already been discarded and smiled. Only one was ripped, the rest looked fine…but not perfect and Mira needed them to be.

“Mind if I help, anyway?” he asked as he sat down next to her and put his hands on the edges. He wasn’t going to try and talk sense into her. She wouldn’t listen anyway.  She’d keep chasing the light of that candle ‘til it killed her. Waiting for a miracle that was too late in coming.

Mirabel was humming now, a clear sign she was completely focused on what she was doing and would finish this up pretty quickly. After a few minutes, she made the last cut and removed the pieces of cut paper. She tapped his hand and he lifted the page up. He noticed the butterfly she’d cut out was shining on the table where the sun shone through and was hitting the table.

“Pretty nice, Mira,” he said lifting the others.

“Thanks, and thanks for helping…it was not going well by myself.”

“Mind if I keep the scraps,” he asked indicating her abandon attempts.

“Sure, can’t use them for this anyway.”

“Great, I’ll see ya later,” he said and gathered up the papers, “Gotta go into town and be useful for a few hours.”

“Okay, thanks again, I’ll save you seconds.”

“Gonna need ‘em,” he said and went back to his room. He reached under his bed and pulled out a box. He took off the lid. Inside was a jumble of half-finished projects that Mira had decided were not perfect enough. He put the butterfly cut outs in it and reached around and picked up the incomplete boat placing it in there as well. Lately there had been a lot of them. If she kept it up, he was going to need a bigger box. Maybe he’d show it to her one day…he wondered if he would have to wait for Abuela to die before he did.

--------------------

Notes:

[bxllafanficc]

A world without heroes

Summary: Loki is imprisoned after the sudden attack on New York and with that, rest of the earth. And while you always thought you would have your lover's back, you find yourself unable to forgive this one. It's time for you to decide when enough's enough.

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x reader

Sidenote: This was inspired by the song "A world without heroes" from KISS. I just immediately though about a moment where reader would be thrown into a deep sea of darkness after finding out the major betrayal lingering beneath many layers of Loki Laufeyson's charismatic persona.

The cold surface of the bulletproof glass is supposed to have a large impact on your wrist as the two objects collide. It's supposed to hurt but it doesn't. The glass is meant to stand and for you to give up. You're meant to lay off and calm down; meaning, stop slamming your fist into the cell like if it was going to break if you just willed your way through.

They say that if you want something enough, you possess the power to do anything. But what do you want to such an extent? More importantly, what does he want? What did he really want? Has he ever wanted any more than a throne to sit on? Or was there something more to it? Did he even know what it really meant? And if so, did he realize the consequences of his actions; not just by the billions of lives he would have destroyed, but his family, yours and especially his own as well.

A part of you wants to believe that he was under some kind of control; that he wasn't really conscious these past days. All the lives he already stole, you want to think that if he had a choice, he would've spared them. You want to believe it all so badly. You want to throw all your common sense away and just collapse into his arms. Give him a tender kiss and gaze into his eyes with lingering warmth like you used to. To forgive and forget.

But the common sense stays where it should be. You can't. Because the past days he's been imprisoned, he's confirmed every action. He doesn't even defend anything; thinks he doesn't need to. Rock-hard believing his decision was the right one to make when he really had no right.

And your eyes are no more tender and soft; but clouded and swollen, piercing through the pair of eyes on the other side of the glass. And your mouth is not tasting the sensetion of sweet lips. Only the salty wetness of your tears pooling like mad rivers.

Your chest feels heavy and about to explode. You need to scream; feel like that's the only solution to relieve the pressure. You almost feel like you're being choked. Choked on love, choked on hope, air, trust, literally everything your life has contained so far.

And the man in front of you doesn't seem to understand how your world is seemingly falling apart before him. The pure confusion in his eyes is twisting your stomach and your feel like throwing up.

"I thought I knew you."

Your sobs has quieted down. Before, you weren't able to speak very well. You just had to wait the storm out until it came rushing back ten times worse next time.

"You do, darling. You always have."

Calm as a snake and laid back. He doesn't even seem to realize that every word spoken will matter in the following moments of actions where you will decide both your fates for him.

"Did I, really? How can you look me in the eyes and say that with your disgusting pride!" You spit at the glass; aim at his feet but it doesn't seem to faze him a tiny bit. You want to bring out a reaction from him, cause maybe then, you would get some sense of honesty out of him.

"My disgusting pride? The world we're living in is disgusting and twisted. How can you even compare midgardians brutality and greediness to Asgards prosperity and beauty?"

You don't want to hear this talk again. Only a couple of years ago, you would have ignored it as just one of his endless bitter rants and thought nothing more of it, not knowing that he was actually planning to find an end to his irritation.

"(Y/n), darling, You have agreed with me on this! We agreed that humans are short minded, only good for the cause of starting a war between their own race and assassinate each other. Their petty little lives are doomed anyway."

You can't even process the amount of irony and hypocrisy seeping through his sentences. You want to scream at him. You want to hold him. You want to cry, give him a piece of your mind. But you want to fall asleep in his arms. You miss his embrace so much. Endless tiredness since he vanished, only to find he's become a monster.

Your fists attempts to break the glass once again, aiming at his perfect eyes. Those damn eyes. The same eyes you used to adore. You still do. Torn between what you want and what you should do.

"You had no right! Who are you to choose who gets to live and who doesn't?! Why should you be any different from the humans?"

Your words are no longer contained into normal conversation. Only now, Loki seems to actually start realizing the weight behind your rage.

"I did it for us, love! For you. How am I supposed to give you everything if I'm just a mere god, son of a bastard and feared of my own people. Is that the man to give you everything? Is it?"

You don't even know where the thought process of this has sparked in his mind. Never have you asked anything unusual from him, just endless trust and honesty. You have always supported him when no one else would and when nobody wanted anything to do with him. A shoulder to cry on or an ear for venting. You've heated him up with your warmth when he was feeling cold and kissed him back to health countless of times. You used to be his. In return you only asked for trust and honesty. And the funny thing? In the end, you got none of that.

"I never wanted the world, Loki! I wanted you! Couldn't you see that you were enough?"

"Why do you care about the midgardians so much? What have they done for you? Have they given you flowers when you were sad? Have they kept you company at nights where you were haunted by nightmares? Did they do any of those? Because I recall it was me who stood by you all those years!"

Why is he suddenly so angry? It makes no sense to you. When he for once speaks from his real thoughts, anger and frustration is still the feeling behind it. Even if he got his plan to destroy earth through, it wouldn't stop his burning hate.

"You speak like they are nothing but soulless objects, pawns for you to manipulate when you feel like it!"

"They need a group of unstable mutants to protect them from dangers! A bunch of heroes that they don't even really like sometimes. The heroes gets the blame of the catastrophe happening even if they are the one fighting it! Is that a society worth fighting for? Their beloved little heroes are nothing but fools."

"Everything is worth fighting for. You don't know these people, do you? And as for the people, the heroes are a beacon of hope; a sign to stand strong and come together!"

You stand quiet for a second. Your fist lowers itself against the hard surface.

"Against people like you."

You don't want to see him anymore. Heard enough. Ready to go. You've made you decision. Because how could there ever be a change to this man? When he's been hiding his true nature behind your back for so long? Did you even know who you loved? Could you even call it love?

"Did you ever love me? Or was I just being fooled this entire time?"

Concern is now displaying on him for real. Maybe he's realize where you're going; what you're about to say.

"Why would you ask that? I love you more than anything! (Y/n), please understand this! I'd do anything for you!"

"Then tell me one single moment, just one, where you've spent time with me and thought 'I could be satisfied with this. I don't need power. I'm good with what I have'."

You heart is aching with anticipation. It's almost fatal. You don't want to know but he must realize it himself before you can finish.

And you can really see how he's trying. He's trying so hard for you, he thinks. He probably thinks he's tried doing everything for you; when he really just needed not to do anything at all. And just like you guessed, there comes no words. He knows you'll see if he's lying and knows you're right. But you don't ever think he will ever regret his attack for the right reasons. Nor for you, to get you back. No, you'll never accept that.

"I can't live like this, Loki. Can't you see you're breaking my heart?"

"I didn't mean to-"

"No. You didn't mean to do it, right? That's what you're gonna say... But I've heard enough. You have made a decision. And it's about time that I make mine as well."

The realization hits him almost instantly. And all the traces of his usually calm manner were gone in an instant. He's no longer standing with hands clasped behind his back. But they're clawing and pawning at the glass keeping the two of you apart. Loneliness is the one fatal emotion he hasn't dared himself to feel for years with you by his side. But now when it all might be taken away from him in a matter of seconds? How is he supposed to react?

He's begging, pleading, punching and screaming. Sobbing and begging even more. His silvertounge can't save him now. Nothing can save him now from the unruly fate. A path he himself had laid out beneath his feet.

"Please, (Y/n) I love you! I don't want to be here alone!"

...

"Please... It's cold and dark. I can't breathe without your warmth! Just.. Please!"

You can't stand to hear any more. His pleading is too much and you've stayed enough.

Your heart feels like it's being torn in half by your own hands as you turn around, the cold of your back hitting him in the deepest depths of his despair. And it sets him off.

You're going to leave him. The only purely good thing in his life is going to leave him. Where is he going to get his hugs? It doesn't matter because they won't be from you. Is he even going to remember your face when time has passed? Will he even remember your laugh, smile or your goofy little moments together? Will you find somebody else? Forget about him and move on.

Loki doesn't want you to move on; doesn't want you to move at all. He's ready to do whatever it takes to get you to stay.

And he would, if there wasn't a thick wall between you, keeping him from you no matter how hard he slammed it or how loudly he screamed at you.

Pleading became despair and despair led to threats; the only solution left to try.

He knew it was wrong. Wrong to threaten a loved one, especially you. But he would never accept his fate knowing that he hadn't tried anything in his power to make the only thing left for him to love slip past his hands.

But a tiny part of him knows that you won't hear him. Won't listen to him like those late summer nights under the moon on a cozy blanket, you tightly wrapped into his embrace with a content smile on your face.

Or the time when a sudden attack of sorrow and anxiety hit him in the middle of the night and you held him close to your chest while whispering sweet assurances for him to fall asleep to.

You had been his anchor to the real world.

You were the only thing to keep him sane enough.

But it wasn't enough in the end.

You had been his hero.

But not even a hero could save someone's world sometimes.

Especially when he was the one ruining it.

His love.

(Y/n)

[cavalierious-whim]

Sylvain sends Felix a very dumb selfie.

#

Remember the last time that I wrote smut for an AU that I wasn't done writing? Well I've done it again. This is part of the Model AU that I will be finishing. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Inspired by this ridiculous art that Sato drew, and a dumb meme that we all remember. You can read here on A03 for better quality. Follow me on Twitter!

#

It starts as a picture or two. Simple snaps of Sylvain’s daily life sent to Felix when he’s away at work.

Felix would much rather prefer to bring Sylvain along but he’s decidedly adamant about keeping his shitty job at the cafe. For some reason he likes being a barista, steaming milk and slogging through orders as customers threaten to dump coffee all over him if he fucks up their drink.

Even though Sylvain can model. That he’s been offered exclusivity rights from top-of-the-line brands like Von Aegir.

They could model together, traveling around, hypnotizing society with their vibrant sexual tension. But, is it sexual tension at this point? Felix and Sylvain have scratched that itch, thoroughly and extensively. Lazy nights and mornings filled with lingering fingers and wandering hands. Of kisses pressed into collarbones and purpling bites left behind in claim.

Felix is lonely on his trips abroad. He’s always had a dislike for his work. Kept it up only because he’s good at it and makes bank. It allows him to live a leisurely life full of pleasure and anything that he wants.

Aside from Sylvain, because he’s stuck somewhere in the butt-fuck middle of nowhere called Gautier. Tucked away high in the mountains where it still snows into the early summer, and the entire industry is dependent on tourism.

So, the pictures. Sylvain sends several each day, tiny little peeks into his relatively monotonous life. They bring a smile to Felix’s face as he zooms in, trying to memorize Sylvain’s smile.

Goddess, he’s whipped. Utterly and entirely. The worst part is that Felix doesn’t really care. Can’t find time to. Would rather pine away at the thought of his delectable boyfriend than try and forget about him.

Annette says it’s a good change. “You’re much more agreeable,” she’d said to him a few weeks back. “Clients are liking it. Amazing, what a good dick can do to you, eh?”

Felix hated the response because of course, she’s right. For the first time in years, he’s relaxed. Pleased with himself. Amiable, even.

It’s most definitely because of Sylvain’s glorious cock.

Then the pictures turned spicier. Sylvain half-naked, abs on display. Sleeves pushed up to his forearms, collar undone and open around the collarbone. Suggestive posing as he flaunts what he has.

Makes Felix go dry in the mouth and his shorts incredibly tight.

It’s why Felix hates being in Adrestia, thousands of miles away from it. Pining for it. Thinking about the damage Sylvain’s cock can do while he’s trying to work. It’s hard to model when your pants are tented like you’re a teenager.

Even worse when it’s for a summer swim line, clad in very little.

Felix sneaks away to carefully snap a picture in his trailer, showing off pale skin and swim trunks that leave nothing to the imagination. It makes work hell but means that Felix can go to bed tired and thinking good thoughts. Palming at himself to the idea that Sylvain might be doing the same.

Sylvain has to be, the insatiable fool that he is.

Felix wakes the next morning to a notification of a new picture. Probably Sylvain laying in bed, on his stomach, sheets pulled back to show off his ass. It’s a favorite of Felix’s and he has a few similar saved into an unlabeled folder on his phone.

It isn’t.

Felix drops his phone, face turning unbearably red. He shouldn’t be embarrassed. He’s seen Sylvain’s dick enough times to know exactly how the weight of it feels in his hand and on his tongue. The way that he tastes, the slight tang of his come, or the sweat on his skin.

This picture is ridiculous in a truly Sylvain-like fashion. He’s half-naked in front of the mirror, clad only in his briefs. His cock rock-hard and tipped to the side, filled entirely and--

There’s a shampoo bottle sitting on it.

It’s so obscenely dumb that Felix can’t help but stare, mouth parting. Tongue sneaking out to lick his lips. Sylvain’s big enough to be impressive, the bottle settling onto its perch with little to no effort. Then there’s the wink, Sylvain’s insufferable cheekiness evident in his expression.

It’s too early in the morning for Felix to be suddenly so horny. He shouldn’t be half-hard at the idea of such a dumb photo. There are less than two hours to be up, showered, and at the shoot location. And that’s if Annette doesn’t show up early to drag him out of bed.

Felix’s hand finds his cock anyway, palming himself over his briefs. This is a really, really bad idea. His hand sneaks into his waistband, circling his length properly. Then Felix slides down his briefs and kicks them out of the way. Truly, the worst plan he’s ever come up with.

And he’s dating Sylvain, so that’s saying something.

Felix throws his head back as he strokes along his dick, now fully hard. All because of Sylvain’s incessant, yet endearing, stupidity.

He certainly doesn’t think of Sylvain’s hands, large and calloused, wrapping around him entirely. In a warm grip. Doesn’t think of the way he whispers dirty things into Felix’s ears as he makes quick work of his cock.

Felix is already leaking at the tip, already feeling that tightly coiled fired deep in his gut. Pathetically close even when he’s only barely begun. He spreads the precome to aid the slide of his fingers, squeezing the crown of his dick on the next upstroke.

“Fuck,” murmurs Felix, looking at the picture again. At Sylvain’s softhearted and kind face, that devilish smirk that’s reserved for only Felix. Where his neck meets his powerful shoulders. His handsome pecs, clearly defined.

And then, of course, the best part; Sylvain’s cock, outlining his briefs so very clearly. Every crease woefully evident where it pulls the cotton fabric taut; the dips and valleys along the length of him.

It makes Felix’s mouth water and his ass clench painfully. Wanton and waiting. Incredibly frustrated.

Felix can end it now or--

He looks at the time and thinks. Then he makes the terrible decision to slip his fingers into his mouth, slicking them with spit. Not as ideal as lube but he’s short on time. Thankfully, he’s still a little loose, pliant from his night before.

Felix fucked himself on his fingers to many a picture in that cursed folder on his phone that remains unnamed. Random and innocent selfies. Slightly spicier, indulgent pieces. The pictures that they sometimes take together while sharing their bed.

Annette calls it his spank bank after accidentally stumbling across it while working. She’d spent a good ten minutes roasting Sylvain’s cock until Felix told her to shut up. Then she’d roasted his instead.

Felix works a finger in slowly. “Dammit,” he says. Sylvain’s ruined him, it seems. In his expectations. Felix’s fingers are slim and dextrous, able to get the job done. They aren’t nearly as long or thick as Sylvain’s. Don’t fill him up the same.

A second joins the first a little bit too soon, but Felix knows what he wants. Impatient at his best, he’s insistent in the way he touches himself. The slight, delicious sting of his fingers as they pull at his rim. The stretch is addicting as he presses them in and out.

Thinking that they’re Sylvain’s, that he’s right here beside Felix instead of across the continent. Whispering dirty, sweet nothings into his ear, his voice pitched dangerously low. Felix climbs that high, panting as he jerks himself off, his fingers sliding deep, angling just so.

The first touch against his prostate sets Felix’s nerves alight. The second turns him into a moaning mess. His dick is slick, his ass tight. Clenching around his fingers as he thinks the dirtiest thoughts that he can muster.

Particularly, Sylvain’s cock and the perfect way that it fills him. How he thrusts into his ass, teasing strokes as his hands grip at Felix’s thighs. The way Sylvain sighs into Felix’s neck as he tries to hold himself back, lasting as long as possible. The way that he watches as he slides in and out, murmuring about how Felix has ruined him forever.

Sylvain frequently worships the way that Felix can bring him to his knees with just a heated gaze.

“Idiot,” says Felix, looking at the picture once more, his face flushed and pink with desire. “Stupid, how much I miss you.”

Felix’s fingers find a good rhythm as they slide in and out, spreading his rim. Intoxicating, the way that pleasure flows through him. He can feel the tendrils of it in every limb. And finally, Felix comes, his cock spilling as cries out Sylvain’s name in a whining moan. Eyes shut tight as he rides that feeling, rides his fingers, rides the memory of what Sylvain would feel like were it him nestled deep inside Felix instead.

He pulls his fingers from himself gingerly and lifts himself onto wobbly legs. Sets about starting a shower. Once in it, he stares at the mini-sized bottle of soap tucked into the corner of the tub.

“Shampoo,” says Felix, still trying to catch his breath. “How utterly embarrassing.” Losing himself entirely to such a moronic selfie. He still saves it to that damned folder on his phone. Knows just how much relief it’ll bring him until he finds his way back home.

It’s a long cool down. Long enough that Annette’s banging on his hotel door once he steps from the bathroom, wrapped in a robe. He used to give her the spare key. Stopped when she walked in on him and Sylvain doing, in her words, dastardly things.

When he opens the door he still isn’t dressed. Annette looks him up and down. Takes in his relaxed and fucked out aura, then smirks knowingly.

Felix tells her to fuck off before letting her in.

She says nothing as he dresses. Only stares as he mills about. Then, when it’s nearly time to head to the shoot, she says, “Well, at least you’ll be pliable today.”

Annette has no idea.

Earlier, Felix took a photo while still in his blissed-out orgasmic haze. One of his cock in his hand and his spend all over his stomach. The mess that he’d made while fingering himself to Sylvain’s supreme idiocy.

He’s never sent something so overtly explicit to Sylvain. Until now. Sylvain must be asleep because he hasn’t responded. Or maybe he’s furiously stroking himself to the sight of it instead.

Either way, Felix can’t wait to see the result.

[imperial-martian]

Protective vs Possesive {Mycroft Holmes x Reader} [Part 2/?]

A/N: Sorry that it has taken me so long to get done, but I’ve finally gotten inspiration with the help of @kye06. I’m not sure how I feel about this. I was a bit iffy with it until the end, which I really love. Let me know what you think and if this should be the end or if more parts should be added!

Mycroft x Ex-Wife! Pregnant! Reader

Angst/Fluff

(Mentions of Divorce, Pregnancy, Fainting, Hospitals, Mentions of Llightly Unhealthy Weight Loss, Soft! Mycroft)

•—•

Sherlock was sat in Bart's hospital sitting room, his hands interlaced and his chin resting upon them as he waited and waited. Each second that past felt like hours, each minute felt like days. The ticking of the clock at the corner of the room was slowly driving the man crazy.

It had only been a month and a half since you've moved into Baker Street with Sherlock and John. Every day seemed to be weighing down on you more and more. There was no more waking up to morning kisses that, Mycroft so loved to greet you with, or the smell of freshly brewed coffee. No more late-night cuddles and silent reading as you laid in his arms, smiling.

With every memory came the ghost of his touch, and with that came the guilt. You should've cherished those moments you had with him, to thank Mycroft for always ensuring your safety. Now, you couldn't even do that. The simple thought of him made you want to cry.

Yet, you were unable to think about anybody at the moment. Not while you lied, unconscious in a hospital bed while doctors and nurses tried to determine what was wrong before finally, they did.

However, Sherlock was still waiting, and he was still slowly going insane with impatience. He let only a second pass him before he cams his older brother, his blue eyes shut as he listened to the ringing of the phone.

On the other side of London, in an office, sat Mycroft Holmes, a government official who was just scribbling down a note on a piece of paper. The moon was shining in through the window, having just crept past a cloud that obscured some of its light. The auburn-haired man let out a little grunt into the glass of scotch he had just raised to his lips. A phone call was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment.

Nonetheless, he grabbed the device, seeing if he recognized the number before feeling a sudden sense of shock and worry as he saw his brother's name. In a quick motion, Mycroft had placed down the scotch glass while throwing on his coat as he brought the phone up to his ear.

"Sherlock?" he said through the phone, moving around his desk to gather some things. If it wasn't an emergency then at least he'd be packed and have an excuse to head home.

Sherlock let out a small sigh as he heard his brother's voice, a sound he wasn't sure that relieved him or annoyed him. "Mycroft, come down to Bart's, Y/N's in the hospital," he stated, getting straight to the point and not wanting to waste time.

Mycroft was surprised for a moment, not because Y/N was in hospital but because he was being informed that she was. "Why am I being told this? And why am I being asked to visit her?" Mycroft asked, his tone airy and yet, somehow it sounded almost cold.

"Because this was your wife Mycroft! Because the person you once loved is now lying unconscious in a hospital room, and even I don't know what's wrong! That's why Mycroft, because if Y/N had even cracked a bit of that facade you've created, then you'd care enough to see her. God forbid she took her last breath in an hour and you weren't here to say goodbye or sorry, wouldn't you want to see her one last time?!"

Mycroft was shocked by his brother's outburst. He'd been yelled at plenty of times before by Sherlock, however, never for such a severe reason. A moment passed before he said, "I'll be there in ten minutes," and hung up the phone.

True to his word, Mycroft arrived at the hospital ten minutes later, walking towards the waiting room where Sherlock no longer sat. The government official walked up to the front desk, asking what room you were in.

"294," the nurse said before Mycroft said a quick thank you and made his way down the hall, his umbrella gripped tightly in his hand. He held it at the center, his leather shoes loud against the tiled floor.

He reached the room after a bit of walking, peaking through the window to spot his brother sitting at a chair beside the bed. Mycroft didn't bother looking around to see you, knocking on the door and waiting for someone to answer it. When the door was answered, Mycroft's blue eyes caught the ones of his brother who simply nodded and let him pass.

"Is she alright?" Mycroft asked, taking a step into the room and looking over at you. He placed the umbrella off to the side of the room and took a seat once he was finished.

He hadn't seen you properly since the ordeal that took place months ago. His heart ached at the sight of your s/c skin being much paler than what it usually is. Your body was a bit skinnier than he remembered and for a moment he feared the worst.

"Has she been eating properly?" Mycroft asked his brother who remained by the door.

Sherlock shook his head slightly. "She seems to be skipping breakfast every morning," he starts. "However, thankfully she eats her other meals."

Mycroft nodded, taking you over once more. "Did the doctors tell you what was wrong?" he inquired, his eyes never leaving your body.

Sherlock made a small hum. He knew that this should be something told to his brother, as well as yourself, by a doctor, but he knew it'd eat his brother alive if he didn't tell him. "She's pregnant Mycroft," he paused for a moment, expecting to see a reaction from Mycroft. When he didn't he continued, "they said she had fainted due to stress. They suspect she doesn't know she's with child yet."

All Mycroft could give in response was a weak nod before he asked his brother to leave for a moment. Sherlock obeyed Mycroft's wishes, taking a step out and moving back towards the waiting room before leaving altogether. He knew it was best to leave them both for some time.

Mycroft had leaned back against his seat, his mind seeming to bark questions at him, some that he didn't know the answers to. He looked back at you for a moment, taking in your h/c hair and familiar features. His hand was trembling as he brought it up to brush the strands of hair that cling to your face behind your ear.

Mycroft felt guilty at that moment. Guilty for leaving you when he could have been taking care of you, holding you close and protecting you. He was angry at himself that this entire situation was caused simply because he wanted to keep you safe, and yet, of course, he was the one harming you. It was always like that.

He'd never felt such a strong urge to hold you in his life. To whisper to you softly, letting you know that he couldn't wait to be a father and that you'd make an amazing mother. Yet, you were no longer his. He'd asked for the divorce.

The sudden feeling of warm, soft skin brushing against his arm caused his blue eyes to snap up towards you, his hand moving to clutch at your instinctively. "Y/N," he breathed out softly.

You felt emotional seeing Mycroft beside you, but you did not cry. All you did was smile back before facing the heart rate monitor. "Mycroft, what's wrong? W-why are you here?" you asked, scared and confused.

Mycroft tried his best to give you a reassuring smile. It was clearly forced and strained. He was about to answer you when a doctor entered the room, both heads turning to look at them.

"Ah, Mrs. Holmes-" you'd both tensed at that, but you couldn't blame the doctor. The divorce had yet to be finalized. "I'm glad to see you're awake. We've run some tests and nothing looks to be too worrisome. As a matter of fact, the cause of your fainting, although partially due to stress, is caused by pregnancy symptoms. Congratulations," the doctor explained.

Your eyes widened as you looked at Mycroft, fear written all over your face. How would this work now that you weren't with Mycroft?

Mycroft caught onto the fear quickly and gently ran a thumb over your knuckles, trying to assure you it'd be alright. Once the doctor left the room, Mycroft turned to look into your e/c eyes.

"Mycroft, wh-what are we going to do?" you asked, your hands trembling just as much as his are.

He took in a sharp breath for a moment, looking at you. "Y/N, I-I'd happily call off the divorce if you're willing to do the same. I... I'm not sure if I've truly ever wanted it. Ever since I've said it all I've felt was misery," he stated, his voice shaky. Mycroft's never had to say something like this. He's rarely ever let his emotions be spoken so freely.

You'd brought your hand up to his cheek when a single tear slipped from his eye. It wasn't a tear full of sadness, it was one of anger and guilt... and of the loneliness he tried so hard to get rid of only to welcome it back with open arms. Now, all he wanted to do was take you into his arms.

"I'd want nothing more than that, My," you whispered, and hearing the nickname- the one that used to bring him so much warmth -nearly caused Mycroft to cry more. He didn't, instead, moving to sit on the edge of your bed before taking you into his arms and adjusting himself so that he wouldn't hurt you.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, the warmth of your body against his cool skin causing him to feel safe and at home. "I've missed you," he whispered, placing a kiss against your shoulder.

"I've missed you too My," you whispered back, carefully running your fingers through his hair. "You'll make a great father," and just the thought of it caused you to smile because you knew it'd be true.

Mycroft lifted his head a bit to look into your eyes, a soft smile on his face. "And you'll be the best mother anyone could ever have, my dear," he replied, leaning down to give you a sweet, but passionate kiss against your lips. He'd only broken apart to murmur a soft, 'I love you,' before kissing you again.

[mult1fandomwriter]

Fuck Feelings ( JJ Maybank)

Pairing: JJ x Character

Inspired by: the song Heather- Conan Gray

Summary: Rose(character) is heartbroken because JJ has a girlfriend and she is trying to hide it. When it is revealed things between JJ and her get pretty heated

(I don't own the gif)

I sat at the old couch, at John B's house, mumbling a new rhythm for the song I was currently writing, with my guitar, right next to me. I remember my self having a passion for writing, since I was a little girl. I would always make up short stories of any kind and write them down in the notebook, I always carried with me. Later, at the age of 12, I discovered my hidden talent in music and had my parents buy me a guitar and pay for guitar lessons. So here I am, heartbroken, sitting on my own in John B' s living room, while my friends are outside enjoying their beer, doing the thing I love the most. Combining music with writing. It helps me take a break and relax, without thinking about my problems and how miserable I feel Without thinking about my parents, who I haven't seen in a month, because they are currently travelling around Europe, in order to "bring the spirit back to their relationship", as they told me when they announced me, that they were leaving. Without thinking about the blonde boy, who is sitting outside with his girlfriend, making my heart break in small pieces. I continue writing my song. It is inspired by him. Why would you ever kiss me? I am not even half as pretty, I am writing, remembering our kiss last week. Really though, why would he kiss me, when he had feelings for someome else? For Melissa. And why would he see me as something more than a friend, when he had her? God she is pretty...And I am nothing compared to her. Melissa moved here, in Outer Banks, about a month ago and from the moment JJ saw her, I could tell he was fascinated by her. Why blame him though? With her long red hair and her ice blue eyes, she looks like a damn godess. No wonder why he was immidiately attracted to her. They have been dating for about a week now. Six days to be precise. I haven't spoken to JJ since our steamy momemt at the beach last Saturday. That kiss meant everything to me, but apperantly nothing to him, considering the fact, that he asked Melissa out the next morning.

A few taps on the window bring me back to reality. I lift my head only to see Kiara tapping on the window, urging me to come outside. And so do I. I know it isn't a really good idea, but what else can I possibly do? As soon as I step outside, I am offered a beer from John B. "Finally my favorite Kook showed up" he says offering me a warm smile. "Hey, I thought I was your favorite one!" Sarah says with a fake hurt look on her face. I smile as John B leans in, connecting his lips to hers, kissing her sweetly "Always", he whispers. I catch my shelf smiling again at the way John B shows his affection for Sarah. I amhappy for them, because I've known Sarah for my whole life and she is one of my best friends, since she lives next door. John B and JJ have been my best friends since 3rd grade, when I met them at the beach. We've been inseparable since then. Later we became really close friends with Pope and Kiara too and now Sarah is part of our group too, despite her differences with Kiara, which are now solved. My feelings towards JJ changed, however. I want more from him and I thought he wanted too, with the constant touches and need to protect me and then that kiss. But as it turned out, JJ 's feelings were not mutual. My happines for the relationship of my friends is overshadowed by the feeling of a gap in my chest. I feel empty without JJ' s touch, without his kisses. I know of course, that I can not have that with him. "What were you doing in there for so long, Rose?", Pope asks me. "Just writing a new song", I reply while shrugging. I don't want it to seem like a big deal, because the lyrics are really personal. "I am already done with the music, but the lyrics are not finished yet". "Oh can I read it?", Pope asks with excitement in his voice. He is always hyping me up whenever I write a new song and he is always the first one to read it when it is finished, but I don't want anyone to lay eyes on this one. It is too personal. "No, not yet. Only when it's done. You know me", I reply chuckling so that I can sound cool and act like nothing is making me uncomfortable about this whole situation. I feel a cold breeze. " I am cold", I say, not really expecting a reply or something. Just to change the subject. "Yeah, me too.", says Melissa, with her annoyning voice. Why is she here again? Is she becoming part of our group now? JJ takes his hoodie off, revealing his grey sleevless shirt, underneath it. He takes it and offers it to her. Ouch...that hurt...I look away, as she takes it in her hands, ready to wear it. Sarah notices and gives me her "we'll talk about it later" look

Suddenly a rush of insiration hits me and I quickly grab my pen and notebook to add a few more lyrics. You gave her your sweater. It's just polyester, but you like her better. I wish I were Heather. I write concentrated, while a tear escapes my eyes. These lyrics describe my emotions. I am in a bad mental state. I want to be Melissa so bad. I want to be the one JJ hugs and kisses. I love him so much, but I am not good enough.

Looking up, I realisedJJ is eyeing me, a confused look on his beautiful face. Oh, he is so handsome. This is the first time I look at him in a week. I missed seeing his expressions change and I missed starring at those gorgeous blue eyes, I so much love. "Hey", John B says, "what's wrong Rose?". I do not reply, trying to stop the other tears that escape my eyes. But I can't. It isn't like me to show my emotions like this. I don't bother the others with the way I feel. Somehow, however JJ can always understand it, when something is wrong and we always discuss it privately. But this time I can't talk to him about any of it. "It's that thing you're writing, isn't it Williams?" JJ asks, calling me by my last name as usual. "It's none of your bussiness", I answer with a harsh tone. JJ' s eyes widen by my sudden outburst towards him. If he only knew how much damage he had done to me, he wouldn't be. "Give it to me. I wanna see it.", he demands. "NO!", I respond yelling, while more tears begin to run on my cheeks. "What the fuck is up with you Williams ? You stop talking to me for a week and now you will not let me read what you're writing. Do you think this is okay?", JJ snaps too, yelling at me, looking me straight in the eye. "Like you care about me not talking to you", I say sarcasticaly in a much lower voice. "Of course I fucking care Williams. You would not even look at me the entire time. Why?" "Why do you fucking care? You don't need me anyway, now that you have found a girlfriend, do you?" I know how jealous I sound, but i can't help it anymore. My four friends and Melissa look at as confused, although the last one looks pretty annoyed too. "Is that it? You act all weird because I have a girl? Or because that girl isn't you? It's the kiss, isn't it? Are you jealous Rosalie?",JJ replies with a tone of brag in his voice. He is being so mean and arrogant right now, like my feelings don't matter. He knows how I feel, but he doesn't care. This hurts. A lot. And the fact that he used my whole name, makes it worse, because I can tell how serious this is. All five of the others gasp when the hear about our kiss. "What the fuck?", Melissa starts talikng. "You want my man, bitch? Well it ain't gonna happen. He's mine.", she says looking at me. I give her a deadly stare, unable to speak. But it is good enough, cause if looks could kill, she would now be dead. I see as JJ turns around to look at his so called hirlfriend, his face red drom anger. "I am not a fucking object you can call your own!", he yells at Melissa. Her eyes open widely, scared of his angry outburst. John B interfears, trying to calm him down, but JJ, just pushes him away, turning his gaze towards me again. "Well", he says, "I am waiting for an answer Rosalie", he tells me angrily. I just stare at him, words unable to escape my mouth. "I...I am...I gotta go", I mumble looking away. "Rose", I hearKiara and Sarah say in unision, but I don't turn to look at them, alredy imagining the looks of pity for me im their eyes. I quickly leave John B' s house, while hearing him and my two girl best friends yelling at me to come back. I start running, in order to go home. I need to get away from here as quickly as possible. Oh, how emotionaly exhausted I feel...

Part 2 is out too

[dorigvbcorvis]

The Letters: A Glee Short Story

'The Letter' and 'The Letter Reprise' are two pieces originally written by Elton John for The Billy Elliot Musical in 2008

My short Glee story was inspired by these two songs and because Billy Elliot and Kurt Hummel share a lot of parallels this is one of the major similarities they both had lost a mom.  Copyright infringement not intended

This is dedicated to my own Mother who I lost last year to cancer

September 9th 1928 - September 16, 2020 RIP Mom

The Letters: A Glee Short Story

Scene 1 The Letter

Late October 2010 McKinley Hallway. Last bell of the day has rang and Kurt is on his way to his after school Glee Club. They are having rehearsals for The Rocky Horror Musical and his book bag with a bald cap and wig are already in the choir room. - Which is why he carried his books from his last class in hand and not in his book bag. In the hallway Tina is several feet behind Kurt and she calls to him.

"Hey Kurt wait up" she calls out. Tina has brought in her pair of freshly bedazled tap shoes for her Columbia role and she anxiously wanted Kurt to see them.

Kurt turns with his body to face Tina his back is now turned from the direction he was heading and so doesn't see who has now come up behind him. It is at this exact moment Kurt feels his body lunge forward he falls nearly face first into a row of lockers all his books crash hard against the metal lockers so hard that he drops his books and a cascade of papers fall to floor.

Kurt knows it was Karofski he doesn't have to look up to know it was him- Looking up to confirm now wouldn't matter anyways Karofski wasn't one to stick around once he had done this to some one.

In the immediate area Tina was now horrified she knows this is at least half her fault - her call out took Kurt off his guard.

"I am so sorry Kurt I didn't see him coming," Tina sighs. She feels badly.

"Nobody seems to," Kurt admits; he angry but not at Tina. He squats down to start picking up papers.

"This must get old" Tina quips in an attempt to make sympathetic light.

"It does," Kurt says, admitting this too.

"Here let me at least help" Tina kneels down and starts helping pick up the stray papers she spots an envelop it looks misplaced among the schoolwork.

"What's this?" Tina says picking up an old envelop yellowed at least a decade with age.

"It's a letter" Kurt says, and he abruptly snatches the letter out of Tina's hand.

"I can see it's a letter" Tina quips, a little shocked at how Kurt just took the letter away from her.

Kurt softens he sees how in shocked Tina seems. He hands it back. "You can open it if you want."

Tina of course does and she takes the letter and excitedly the pulls the letter from its envelope "Because yeah, the suspense is killing me now"

"It's from my mom," Kurt then adds.

"Your mom?" Tina asks, she's suddenly now reluctant to proceed.

"She wrote it for us for when I turned eighteen, only I found it way before then. It was in her nightstand I used to opened it just so I could smell her perfume. Gardenas

"I see," Tina said softly.

"Anyways, You can read it if you want," Kurt said, then clarified "Read it out loud"

"Dear Kurt," Tina begins,

"I must seem a distant memory..." Tina stops again; she realizes she's about one those private letters nobody else should read but the intended...but it is not only that she knows how this type of letter only ends in tears.

"Which is..." Kurt said, with a nod like he has the whole letter memorized which of course he has. But he encourages Tina to continue

Tina does.

"Which is probably a good thing"

"And it will have been a long..,."

"...long time" Kurt finishes the line for Tina. He then gives a sigh. Then instead of listening to Tina read back the whole letter to him Kurt starts to sing the contents of the letter.

♫ And I will have missed your growing ♫

♫ And I'll have missed your crying ♫

♫ And I'll have missed you laugh ♫

Tina watches on with a bittersweet smile.

♫ Missed your stomping and your shouting ♫

♫ I have missed telling you off ♫

♫ But please, (Know) Kurt ♫

♫ Know that I was always there ♫

♫ I was with you through everything ♫

♫ And please, Ku-urt ♫ Kurt said his name with a flourish

Tina joins the singing

♫ And please, Ku-urt ♫ she sings using the same flourish that Kurt had

♫ Know that I will always be ♫

♫ Proud to have known you ♫

♫ Proud that you were mine ♫

♫ Proud in everything ♫

♫ And you must promise me (my angel) ♫

In Kurt's mind he imagines a ghost image of his mom with darken eyes from illness and her head wrapped in a Chemo scarf. She seems so real like he could reach out and touch her. She kneels down to sing to her son. Kurt want so badly to touch his mom but is too frighten doing so would spoiled the illusion

♫ In everything you do ♫ Kurt's mother sings. Then another like

♫ Always be yourself, ♫ and then a third line

♫ And always to youself be true ♫

Kurt now joins in with the ghost vision of his mom. Singing the song like a duet with his mom.

♫ And I will have missed you growing ♫

♫ And I'll have missed you crying ♫

♫ And I'll have missed you laugh ♫

Tina even joins in with the singing and yet somehow Kurt still hears his mother's voice.

♫ Missed your stomping and your shouting ♫

♫ I have missed telling you off ♫

♫ But please, my angel ♫

♫ Know that I was always there ♫

♫ I was with you through everything ♫

♫ And please, Kurt (Please) ♫

♫ Know that I will always be ♫

♫ Proud to have known you ♫

♫ Love you forever ♫

♫ Love you forever ♫

The ghost of Kurt's mom embraces her son before fading away.

"Mom," Tina concludes the letter. She wipes away the tears she had forecast would come and hands back the letter and envelop. "Oh Kurt, I don't know what to say."

Kurt pulls out his wallet to show Tina a picture of three girls and from the fashion the girls are wearing ii the picture it looks like the photo was taken in the 80s.

"That's mom in the middle next to my late aunt Elisabeth and younger one is my aunt Mildred"

"Sorry, Kurt but did you said your aunt is dead too?"

"Breast Cancer Same as mom I guess Aunt Millie had it too but they caught it on time" an odd seemingly misplaced smirk came over Kurt's face. "Don't laugh," Kurt was now saying.

"Why would I?" Tina questioned

"No, what I mean is because it's hereditory there's now this 50/50 chance that I might get it. If Santana found out I could get breast cancer I would never hear the end of it."

"That's horrible why would I laugh even then?" Tina at least knew she wouldn't.

"Some people might"

I wouldn't. I am so sorry Kurt...sorry too that you already have enough on your plate without Karofski and all the others making it harder"

"That's probably one of the nicest thing anyone has said. Thanks"

Tina gives Kurt a long hug

"Ah....We should probably get to class Rocky Horror awaits"

"Yes, and I have taps to break in"

Scene 2 Letter Reprisal

After the Rocky Horror rehearsal Kurt is passing the trophy case on his way out of the school. Kurt eyes the 1989 Ohio State Championship Girls Softball trophy and a newspaper clipping that reads:

>>> Fairbank Sisters Kate and Liz prove they are a twin force to be reckoned with as their efforts beat Akron to secure state title win Go Titans!

The Kate, in the picture is Katherine Delorus Fairbanks, Kurt's mom. And the Liz, is Elizabeth Anne Farebanks his aunt. An aunt he never knew except she was his mother's twin and his middle name. She died two weeks before he was born.. he hid his middle name from nearly everyone... sometimes telling people the E stood for Edward but this wasn't true. His mom loved her twin sister born 3 minutes ahead of her...sorry mom sorry aunt Elizabeth calls through the glass case.

Kurt hears the clicky clacky of tap shoes he knows it's Tina.

"Who's that? - That's not... ?" But Tina already knows who it is...it's Kurt's mom

That's my mom and my aunt" Kurt confirms and he does a side glance over at the softball trophy "and that's their trophy."

"I had no idea your mom went here," Tina says with a smile.

"In the late 80's In fact I think they were seniors when Schuster was a Freshman"

Really? Do you know if they knew each other?

"I don't know," Kurt said then quickly changed the subject. "I was thinking about my mom's letter. When I found it I had written a reply...I thought since you read her letter you want to hear mine

I'd be honored" Tina answers with a smile

♫ And please, Mommy... ♫ Kurt stops and sheepishly looks at Tina. "I was still a kid."

Tina nods likes she really isn't bother in fact it is almost too cute.

Kurt starts over

♫ And please, Mommy ♫

♫ know that I will always be ♫

♫ proud to have known you ♫

♫ proud that you were mine ♫

♫ Proud in everything... ♫

♫ And I promise you this, Mommy, ♫

♫ In everything I do, ♫

♫ I'll always be myself, ♫

A ghost of Kurt's mom reappears sing her son's lined like a from the heart order Kurt must obey.

♫ In everything you do ♫

♫ Always be yourself ♫

Kurt gulps twice now he has seen his mother and he doesn't know if any of this is real yet he continues to sing to the ghost image of his mom.

♫ Mommy. And I always will be true ♫ Kurt sings to her.

♫ Love you forever, ♫ Kurt's mom sings back to her son.

♫ Love you forever, ♫ Kurt repeats the lyric.

♫ Love you forever, ♫ Kurt's mom echoing the lyric back to her son.

♫ Mom. ♫ Kurt sings wistfully concludes his song too fearful that the image would soon end too.

Tina is silent. She watches Kurt stand facing the trophy cabinet singing to it like his mother had been there the whole time. Maybe she had.

"Tina?" Kurt finally calls out.

"Yeah?" She answers.

"I'v been lying to you Tina...my middle name the E it isn't for Edward...it's for Elizabeth; after my aunt because she was my mother's twin and she died before I was born...just two weeks before"

Tina lightly pressed her lips together. It was a rare moment Kurt was ever this candid he normally didn't just volunteer information like this but when he did it was always bittersweet.

"So, I never met her," Kurt continued. "All I have to remember her by is a cream colour half sweater that was found in the attic of her house."

"Well, your collection of sweaters is epic!" Tina boasted. She imagine any sweater to find itself in Kurt's collection would be a valued thing.

"It's all I have to remember her by"

"And her name," Tina added.

Kurt nodded "Which is why I don't want to hide it anymore I owe it to the both of them not to hide it anymore" Kurt was stern.

"The guys are going to razz you for it" Tina warned.

"Let them," Kurt retorted. "and if they find out how I might also get breast cancer,...So be it"

"I think you are probably about the bravest person I know. You came out last year and now you're coming out to me about this?- It means a lot - that you trust me and all"

"D'You really think this or are you just saying it?" It is a question Kurt regrets asking because it says the either of two things; that he doesn't trust Tina or he doesn't deem himself worthy.

"I do mean it," Tina stresses. "even in Glee when you stand up in front of everybody and then you let go and just sing you're amazing" Tina says frankly. She smiles at her friend she knew it was more the doubt in himself. "Come 'on Kurt let's get out of here. I don't like this school after everybody's gone home...way too may ghosts."

"Why, did you see one?" Kurt suddenly asks wondering if Tina like him saw his mom.

Tina pauses before saying anything more. Kurt finds this pause truly haunting.

"Don't freak out but I sometimes think I see Mrs. Adler in the choir room" Tina admits.

But it's an admission that's still enough to make Kurt shiver. Kurt looked back at the trophy case. For a third Kurt sees his mom there but he also sees his aunt this time. His mom no longer looks sick as she did before but more like a young Carry Anne Moss with fair skin cropped black hair and glasz coloured eyes his aunt is a spitting image of his mom.

They both fade away and Kurt is spooked and yet amazed if any of that might have been real. His heart says yes the skeptic in him want withhold judgement.

"Need a lift? Kurt asks, he's still a little bit freaked out.

"My dad is picking me up but thanks for offering" Tina says.

"Tina?" Kurt asks.

"Yeah?" She answers back.

"Thanks for letting me share today" he says.

"Anytime Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, anytime" And with this they walk the remainder of the hallway to the main exit doors.