#i want to be and i wished to be but i wont be

[imwetforyourmom]

JUST FINE.

CW: Unrequited love, unresolved angst, crying, swearing, cheating in a way if you think about it, yelling

SUMMARY: When you’re the only thing Chris has ever wanted, and ever will, but, when you dont see him that way, and probably wont ever, how will he take it? Or, you’ve stood the poor boy up on a date, hoping he’d get the hint.

A/N: Doc give it to me straight, did I fall off?

·˚ ༘

“You didnt have to do that.”

The dark alley way lit you and Derek, the light providing the perfect visionary to Chris’ nightmares. But, oh gosh, how he wished it hadnt. He would’ve given anything to not see your and his actions. It all sending an itch to gag at the back of his throat and tears beginning to take their place along his waterline.

His eyes took in what they could with his consistent wiping of the back of his hands to rid of the shedding tears, trying to see, to acknowledge what you wouldnt do to Chris, what you could never picture doing with Chris.

What wasnt meant to be for Chris. Your hands were never meant to be running along his body, rubbing seductively while your lips pressed against his, your lips teasingly keeping shut, depriving him of a more intimate kiss. But, what more depriving than watching the love of your life do the actions you’d begged for if she’d asked, do to another without hesitation? No holding back seemingly present in your movements, everything raw and unforgiving to chris. Why couldnt that be him?

Why couldnt he be the one pinning you against the brick red wall, why couldnt he be the one you were moaning and inhaling sharply for, the one where your stomach fluttered with butterflies, the one where you planned to live old with? Why couldnt he be ‘the one’?

Why wasnt he meant for your love? Why was fucking derek the one in his place? Out of all people.. Derek. Derek was the one you desired the most, the one you couldnt hold your composure with, the one your heart beat raced with.

Why couldnt it fucking be him?

His body felt heavy with each second he stared, his eyes beginning to puff with each unshed tear, or hard sob being held deep into his throat, making it harder for him to watch your sinful actions.

The flowers he’d especially boughten because they were your favorite, slowly began slipping from his loosened grip. Too distracted with the utter sight of your carefree actions to keep hold of the now useless flowers.

If you’d told him a year ago, he’d be here, watching his unrequited love makeout with another man—after standing him up, he would’ve laughed in your face. Collected his breathing, and looked you into the eyes, with a puzzled expression, “who is my ‘unrequited love’?” even despite the gleam in his eyes that was present just minutes ago, now gone with the forced laughter that escaped his body.

His body would crash on the inside, but his face would stay stoned, eyebrows raised with questionairre and a clenched fist with the grasp of the little tamed composure he had left. He’d act as if he’d no clue whom his unrequited lover was, but, as much as he wish he did, he knew who she was and now the name brought an itch to throw up at the back of his throat.

The mere thought of you would strike his entire being with the pain he thought he’d never experience, but thats what everyone thinks, until it happens, then they’re never the same.

Everyone swears the love they experienced in highschool was one of tragedies, but tragedies to adore, to admire, to wish you’d had.

Its the tragedies that get to your soul, tear you apart and leave you with the thought ‘Will I ever be the same?’ tears lining your eyes and the ghost feeling of being ‘you’ again, whoever that cold, distant memory may be.

Till that special person falls to their knees and mends you back together entirely, their hand a delicate reminder that you’ll always be worth something to them, never differentaiting from the earths grime, to the earths wonders, the northern lights being danced inside your eyes, but even the skies that withold the mesmerizing colors go dark, see the nights light, an uninteresting black, but they still stand colorful again.

All it takes, is that special person.

And Chris wasnt your special person, the one that would hold your face in his palms and whisper soothing praises as you cry about the tragedies currently overtaking your soul and claiming it as its own.

Derek was gonna be that person, at least, for what he hoped, until highschool was over.

A few years later, on that same street, Chris thought he healed, he’d wished he had, but he knew he didnt. Sure, maybe majority of him healed, but deep down, in his gut he knew a part of him would never heal from the possibilites of you and Chris becoming more, becoming everything he’d ever dreamed of.

His mind never left that brick red wall, too tangled with the mingling of your and Dereks bodies, lost in the desperation and confusion of why he couldnt be Derek. What did Derek have that Chris didnt? What was so good about Derek?

But to you, your voice could never end when Derek was mentioned, the nervous beating of your heart when his name was even mentioned, you could go on and on about Derek, seemingly never having an end towardd what was so good about Derek, and when Chris was mentioned, your arms cradled yourself, curling into yourself as the guilt in your stomach filled, replacing the rapid beating of your heart with its rightful pace.

You knew what you did that night, you saw Chris watching you and Derek, but in that moment, you were too caught up with the fire Dereks fingertips danced along your skin, his lips pressing on yours with comfort and need all at the same time.

Everything about Derek was everything you’ve ever described as ‘begging to want’, the love you’ve so desperately latched onto even the second it was offered, with no thought. Too desperate to experience the love you’d crave everynight, cradling yourself in your arms as your mind did the best it could, creating the fake scenarios for love.

Nothing about Chris was in your desires, nothing he seemed to do gave you the same fluttery in your stomach as Derek did. Even when Chris did his best to adopt Dereks mannerisms, try and be a little more like him—he couldnt. That wasnt him, Derek wasnt him. He was Chris, he just needed to accept the fact that he was him.

The sound of small splashes against rain puddles and footsteps broke Chris’s train of thought, his ghost train, to be specific, his better judgement the ambulance just begging to save him.

He looked away from the same spot he witnessed his entire world fall, only to meet your gaze. The same, cheerful gleam in your eyes, warmfilled smile overtaking your features. Everything about you was comforting.

“What’re you doing out here at,”—you pulled your puffed jacket sleeve from your wrist, checking the familar patterned numbers on the watch, comfortably placed on your wrist, before looking back at Chris—“Twelve ‘o clock at night?” You asked, even with the question in your voice, the same bubbly features remained on your face.

Chris looked back at the wall beside the streetlight, licking his lips dryly as he thought of an answer, his mind running laps, desperate for a reason as of why he was here.

His head dropped to look at his feet, his throat closing with the dry sensation.

“Just, y’know, thinking.” He replied, looking back at you, his tongue peeking back out to lick his lips again.

“What about?” Your curiosity overtook your tongue, though, chris expected no less. You were always naturally curious.

“Us,” his eye contact faltered, deciding it’d just be best to stop lying, to stop living his life in his own shadow.

Your eyebrows stitched, your loud smile beginning to fall to a slight frown. “Whats there to think about us, Chris?”

“Everything, Y/n,” he looked away again, his voice faltering between a cracked whisper, to the non-chalant tone he was desperate to keep.

“I cant keep pretending like im happy with ‘us’. I’m not, fuck, I’ve never been happy with how we are. I dont want this.” He shook his head, closing his eyes as he fought the overwhelming emotions slowly taking over his features, the frown enveloping his mouth, the slight crack in his voice each time he spoke and a slow start to the never ending whirlwind of emotions he’s about to speak of, and experience, all over again.

Your eyes ran over his face, slowly understanding everything that he was saying. Your heart fought its own thumps to stay unwounded from his own hurt.

“Chris, I-“ your voice was cut off with his, a seemingly urgence in the way he spoke.

“No. Let me finish.” He shifted on his feet before turning to look at you, taking in a small breath as preperation before continuing.

“I, I was fucking standing there, watching as you and Derek got all- fuckin,” his voice began to break, thinking of the night he witnessed why you stood him up, “all that. Do you know how fucking bad you hurt me that night? Words dont even begin to explain how hurt I was. You were feeling Derek up, while I was fuckin crying in the empty space of my room.” He exasperated, the look in his eyes gave it all away, he still wasnt finished. His mouth was still full of words he wanted to say, but he wanted to let his previous words sink in first.

“Chris, im sorry, I really am—I dont know what I was thinking- I truly am sorry.” You begged, your eyes filled with sympathy and your voice beginning to crack with guilt.

“You can’t say that, Y/n, you’re not sorry. You dont have a right to be sorry, all you had to do, Y/n, all you had to do was go on the date with me. You didnt fucking have to stand me up, you could’ve even shot me a text cancelling the date, but you didnt. You didnt, you left me there to watch. To watch what you weren’t willing to do with me. And I get that, I understand that you dont want me, but you could’ve fucking said that!” He snapped, his emotioms overtaking his everything. Tears brimmed at his eyes, his voice gave signs to the vulnerabilty he was giving.

“You didnt have to do that.” He sighed, unwilling to let the rest of his emotions flow, he didnt want you to see what you did to him, only hear what you caused.

The shield you’d made just minutes ago to keep your heart together, crashed down. You could feel the radiating thump of your heart against your rib cage throughout your entire body, but none of it amounted to the pure guilt that claimed your body, the sinking hole inside your chest beginning to sink with the guilt overlapping, becoming too heavy.

Tears brimmed at your waterline, a lump grew in your throat, creating the effort you should’ve put in Chris, now replaced with the effort to apologize to Chris.

“Please Chris, you need to understand, I didnt mean to hurt you!” You begged, your voice becoming desperate. Yet, not even beginning to be as desperate as Chris ever was.

Hearing your words sent anger coursing through his blood, “Didnt mean to hurt me? You didnt fucking mean to hurt me? Can you hear yourself, Y/n? Are you out of your mind? Of fucking course you were gonna hurt me! You stood me up for some low life, I would’ve given you the world! But you chose fucking Derek—who, remind me, left you for a slut? No?” His words pierced right through you, re-opening the carefully stiched wounds Derek had left on you.

Fighting off the sobs became weaker and weaker, before your body felt absolutely broken from it all. Sobs racked through your body, and guilt replaced the tears spilling from your cheeks.

“No, no, no, Y/n, its fine. I’ll be just fine without you.” He mocked, shaking his head before sparing you one last glance, moving his begrudgingly feet away from you, walking away and leaving you there just as you’d done to him.

Even despite the pure need Chris felt to run back to you, to cradle you in his arms, soothe and apologize to you, he knew you didnt deserve that, he knew he was better than what you were going to offer to him anyways. You didnt fucking deserve the love and pure adoration Chris would’ve offered, would’ve given with no hesitation.

2096 words.

TAGS

@luverboychris @chrissturniolosfavoritesexdoll @meg-sturniolo @junnniiieee07 @ssilentzom @b2cute @graysturns @wh0resstuff @sturn-bugz @sunsetsturniolos @strniolo @sturnssmuts @simply-a-simper @stunza @meerkatzthings @joemamaaa42069 @sturniluvr @cindylcuwho @wurlibydominicfike @watercolorskyy @aaliyahsturniolo1 @hearteyesformatt @alyrasturnz @colorthecosmos444 @sturnobsessedwh0re @jetaimevous @nicksgirlfriend @4kv4mp @asherrisrandom

@lovesturni0l0s @maryx2xx @mattsmad @dollyspsychoxo @riasturns

@starsturni @britishamerican11 @mattspinkshirt

@chrissturniolosworld @ariqolyx

@mels22lunchbox

@elas3

[stormyelliotwritez]

walk with me…

ftm reader who has been in love with logan for years but he thinks logan is straight and also logan like wont stop being in love with jean and is absolutely OBLIVIOUS that r likes him.. (literally all the other x men know) and honestly this can be like super angsty or just silly idc whatever the vibe u best think works

im gonna somehow go with mostly angst coz thats my fav so here goes

tw for gender dysphoria related to wanting to fit logan’s so called type

BUT HE’S STRAIGHT?

Logan was staring at Jean again. This was like the fifth time just this staff meeting. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take this. Maybe Charles would let you go lay down if you faked a fever but maybe he’d do the whole psychic thing and realize you were fine.

You sat through the rest of the meeting and then left quickly, feeling like a loser. It’s been years and he still hasn’t noticed you. He’s always staring at Jean who’s literally been in love with Scott since they met. Why won’t he stare at you? How the fuck is he straight? But alas, he is.

You walked to your room, tugging at your shirt and wishing it would fit better. Maybe he’d have noticed you if you weren’t a boy, if you’d stayed what you’d been born as. Maybe if you were still her, he’d think you were cute. Maybe he’d look at you how he looked at Jean.

You slammed your door shut and clambered onto your bed, curling up into a ball. You stayed there, just thinking, until eventually you fell asleep.

In the morning, you got up and after showering and getting dressed, you threw on the jacket you’d stolen from Logan a few months ago, the one with the school’s logo. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. It’s not like he ever noticed you.

You went about your day, bumping into Scott who made a faux growl sound like Logan’s to tease you and then bumping into Hank who sniffed your jacket and then applauded you on managing to steal from Logan. Later in the day, you ran head first into Storm, when you were trying to avoid Logan, and she glanced at him and then meowed at you teasingly. You’d swear on someone’s grave that the only person who didn’t know about your years old crush was the man himself, Logan.

You managed to avoid Logan all day until… dinner. He was sitting opposite the spot you always sat in. He was sitting there. Why was he sitting there was a question you couldn’t answer. You tugged at your jumper while holding your plate with one hand and you walked over to him.

“Logan,” you said with a nod.

“Bub,” he said back before looking you over.

He didn’t say anything about the jacket. He just sat there and ate his dinner and then stood up. He walked around to your side and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Nice jacket, bub.”

He then walked off, just like that.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? He didn’t know though. He would know about your ridiculous crush if he was listening to your heartbeat right now. Oh my god, so he knew you’d stolen it but he couldn’t put the damn pieces together?

You finished your dinner and walked off. You were halfway to your room when someone grabbed your hand and pulled you into an empty classroom. The door was slammed and you were disoriented in the dark.

“You like me, bub?”

That was Logan’s voice. Wait, he knew? How? But…

“Come on, I ain’t got all day,” he said abruptly.

You nodded. You were quite sure he could see in the dark and the scoff he made seemed to say so. How could you have been so stupid? He was probably going to hate you now. He was straight. He’d always been straight and in love with Jean. He was oblivious. He’d always been oblivious. He could never like you. You weren’t a girl, no matter how hard you wanted to still be one so he’d like you. Your heart was racing and soon enough, you were hyperventilating.

His hands were on your shoulders and you were being pulled into a hug, a hug that smelt of wood and fuel. He was hugging you?

“It’s okay, I got you, bub,” he placed a light kiss on your forehead, “I swing both ways, you know.”

You’d always hated that he was still taller than you, one of the downsides of not getting on T until your 20’s and- wait, what? He swings both ways?

“You-you do?” You said once your breathing had slowed.

He nodded. You couldn’t see it but you could feel it. He could like you… as you, as a man? You didn’t have to be someone else? You could just be you.

“Yep, now let’s go. I think there’s two beers calling our names in the teacher’s lounge,” he said before opening the door and pulling you out of the classroom. “Jean mentioned your little crush and now I gotta hear all about how you’ve been pining for me for years.”

Curse you, Jean, but thanks, was all you could think as you just nodded and walked with him to the teachers lounge.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Howl I'm thinking about Nightmare's gang being a cult again.

Just how fucked up is it that Killer had to go through that twice? First with the Something New Player rewiring how his brain works entirely, while Chara meticulously breaks down his boundaries and reworking his identity until only they could decide who he is. Only for Nightmare to do exactly the same once Killer finally killed them.

And not only that, but now he has to watch as the same exact thing happens to others. And Stage 2 can push for apathy as much as they want to try and protect them from that crushing realization, but eventually it's gonna hit. Eventually Killer's brain is gonna let its thoughts wander in that direction because boredom is always gonna be the greatest threat for it. And then Killer will wish he'd never done that, because this whole time he's kinda been complicit in their indoctrination.

But, then again, by then he doesn't really know another way to live. He knows that once he broke free of Chara's very similar conditioning, but he doesn't have a concrete idea of what could come next. He doesn't know what life outside a cultish structure looks like and that makes the prospect of ever leaving terrifying.

I think Color coming in and showing him that there is a possible future out there for him is the saving grace he needed all along. And also the push he'll need to get the others out too. Because he's definitely not gonna let them leave for as long as he doesn't see an exit. Whether they hate him or not for it.

It is extremely fucked up. And that’s why I’ll keep saying that Something New is a psychological horror until someone eventually starts writing a fic about it. /lh

And the realization that hits is still very likely going to be tinged with that deep seated apathy that chara reinforced. I can’t see killer breaking out of his belief that he’s emotionless, that emotions are signs of being weak and that attachments are threats to his autonomy and independence, for many many years, with a lot of set backs, and I can’t see it happening when he’s under nightmare.

I don’t really think killer has broken free from chara’s conditioning—despite how much he’d like to claim he is free now that they’re dead. Because they cant be dead when their voice still rings in his mind, and their eyes still watch him everywhere he goes. A constant lurking shadow.

Chara never died, killer never escaped. they just became more elusive.

I think there’s still a lot going on in killer mind he doesn’t realize is conditioning, such as his belief in his emotionlessness. His kill or be killed, controlled or be controlled mentality. Even the reason why he turned on chara was still within the confines of what they taught him—the most determined decides fate, the strongest controls the weakest, and he had no need for them anymore. and so he will make them suffer.

with nightmare, i do think he wont even realize or care what’s happening to the others—because its just how things work. not until color comes along, showing him that things don’t have to be like that. before that, i can see killer helping only in ways that would benefit or amuse him, or whenever nightmare tells him to help someone—because he doesn’t think theyd ever willingly help him if it came down to it.

but if he realized somehow before color comes along—because he definitely wouldn’t take into consideration anything horror, murder, or cross have to say about it because they are apart of the weak/the controlled and they’re just struggling to realize that. it is inevitable, and it’s pointless to try and change it. or at least that’s his justification for avoiding any responsibility.

but i can see any attempts to “help” them being tainted by his worldview and what he’s been taught; such as teaching them how and when to avoid upsetting nightmare, teaching them the rules of the place, trying to teach them when to go to limp and stop resisting, how to learn how to enjoy the pain of themselves or of others. best ways to torture others, and how to “go away inside” if they truly can’t handle it.

and he definitely wouldn’t let them leave unless nightmare says so, which is unlikely. In his mind this place in castle can be learned and then eventually become predictable, they’d struggle outside of the castle because of who they are and what they do. that’s really the only kindness he knows how to give.

..i can definitely see spiting the Chara in his head for being a huge motivation for certain more “merciful” or “kinder” things. just to prove to himself they don’t have control over him anymore, and to spite them even beyond the grave.

{ @stellocchia }

[brokenbytheircursedlove]

Lucifer knew something was wrong. He was not fond of how Diavolo had called for you, his tone was soft nearly vulnerable, unlike his 24/7 happy-go-lucky voice. He had a feeling where this was going....

He is a friend nonetheless, and as much as his pride wont let him to confess; he overthinks often.

You were in the living room devilsiting with the others. The serenity manor is huge and with all his brothers there, he could almost mistake it for House Of Lamentation.

He crawls behind your seat on the couch, his hand almost touching your shoulder. almost.

"Mc, Diavolo was looking for you"

His voice calm, contradicting the twist in his guts. He should be above such feelings.

You comply, of course you do, Diavolo's your friend too. He wants to stop you, he almost does.

"Hey Mc..."

"Actually, Nevermind"

He shouldn't. Diavolo is a friend and he wants to see MC, for whatever reason that's none of his concern.

Living with his obnoxious brothers who bring chaos and trouble anywhere they go, no one knows and cherishes privacy and peace like lucifer does.

Then why, he asks himself, why is he trying to spot the both of you from the window and why are his feet leading him to the poolside when he can't see you through the window?

It's too late now, he's already in earshot and unnoticed. As Diavolo starts speaking his ears perk up.

Diavolo confesses about the cursed karaoke room, which was quite obvious, for Lucifer at least. He'll hear a word or two from Lucifer but that's a different thing. He's apologising now-

Lucifer sighs with a tinge or relief he'll refuse to admit. Achieveing that assurance made him turn, ready to head back inside before he got caught.

"Whenever we're together. I have so much fun"

Lucifer halts at the words, a sinking feeling now present in his gut.

"I feel sort of nervous and yet happy at the same time"

Oh did Lucifer know that feeling. That feeling of butterflies, that feeling that drives you to be the best version of yourself, that feeling that gets your heart racing the feeling when you love someone. He was good at concealing them but they're feelings nonetheless. But for the first time in his life, Lucifer wished he was wrong.

"Um, MC... There's actually one more thing I wanted to tell you.."

Please don't.

Lucifer, too focused on the conversation that was playing out in front of him, had his fists clenched so tight, his knuckles were white and his nails were a breath away from drawing blood from his palms. It is also note-worthy, the look he was giving Diavolo, was enough to freeze devildom over.

He didn't get it. Why was he suddenly feeling so intense? Diavolo, like every other, has the right to his feelings, and he himself doesn't have a claim on MC.

"I truly adore you, MC and I..."

He also might have been drugged, cause no way in devildom was he so close to punching Diavolo's face if he continued that sentence while sober.

And thank Barbatos that he made his entrance at the right time.

He wouldn't punch Diavolo, that was just the anger talking.

He lies to himself.

~

[crowind1]

You may ask why i didnt upload anything for "acnologia day"... or anything in this last months that has passed.

Ive decided that i will no more upload my art on internet (At least not without glazing it or using any possible tool to not allow people to steal it easily.) The whole AI problem has reached a point for me that its scary and discouraging. Ive worked so hard to have the level i have today and because of AI now only few artists with a very defined style and skills will survive which... its impossible for me.

I will still keep working and developing my art but until i dont create a well defined proyect that allows me to live of it i wont share it with anyone.

I am sorry, i am sure that you guys were happy to find an artist that only would draw Acno (Since there is little or no fanarts about him) but the fact the AI its capable to replicate the appearance of Acno without having much fanarts of him... its honestly concerning and i have the feeling/hunch that some of my illustrations has been used as well to get this feat.

So this is a no-no for me. Tumblr its also no precisely a good plataform, for what i know, it can create perfectly with the data of the plataform their own AI and i wont risk it. (Not that the plataform said anything. Its more the people that work in the app. I dont trust anyone.)

This means a honest good bye.

I will soon erase this account or maybe i will just abandon it. (The illustrations will be erased. My illustrations are already circulating around the cloud so there is nothing i can do about it but at least i can stop the creations here and enjoy art at my tempo, as ive always wanted.)

I hope that you can fullfill your dreams and aspirations; i really hope that you guys can keep enjoying art or in other hand, developing yours. I am sure that you guys can reach far and yes, thats sounds weird taking into account that i am saying goodbye; the logic thing would be to encourage others to leave social media too but the truth its that, this whole thing just have hurted me in a deeper level so, in some sense, i just leave because of my own personal weakness that i cant bare to see of what has become of the world of art nowadays.

Now, i wish you the best and hopefully, if god so want it, we may see each other again.

[bunnihearted]

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

[daftpatience]

im obsessed with this image

[othercrossee]

I dont know anything about this guy

[pineappical]

would calling this something like "the sun to his earth" be a little bit too cliche? maybe...

[buwheal]

Spamton please go to sleep, you look really tired

[carpathiians]

dont think i ever posted this

[dreamsy990]

something about the erasure of platonic love in fandom bothers me. maybe its just that im aroace, maybe i just dont 'get' the differences between loving and being in love. but it bothers me.

[your-fuccked-up-dad-volume61]

it’s always “i want a stalker bf” until i start leaving love notes around your house and sneaking through ur window at night, then it’s “how did you find my address” and “put the knife down and please don’t hurt me🔪🌹

[milkbreadtoast]

I've already drawn him so many times... it's so #yeseover

[luck-of-the-drawings]

POOR GABRIEL MONTEZ! YOU NEVER SAW THIS COMING DID YOU? ALL YOU WANTED WAS POWER. SECURITY. SAFETY. & THATS EXACTLY WHAT YOU GOT! JUST IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR BODY. LETS JUST HOPE NO ONE FUCKS THIS UP. LETS JUST HOPE YOU WONT HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE MESS.

[skunkes]

weird 2 say but sometimes i wish i was more into hobby/medium so id have an excuse or wasteless purpose to get more of it. Like. Wish I had purpose within watercolor illustration and as a medium in general so I could get those fancy artisinal watercolors just bc they look so beautiful