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#Evanescence posters

piinkfang · 7 months

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Bands 👏🏼 Need 👏🏼More 👏🏼 Pink 🫶🏽 Merch!👏🏼 … so I’m making it for them Pt.2 Fanart design in honor of Evanescence’s lil tour in Mexico starting tomorrow that I wish I could’ve gone to 🖤🤘🏽 They were the first band I ever fell in love with back in high school and they hold a very special place in my heart, Amy’s voice is just magical to me. I thought this could work as both poster or tshirt, and hopefully one day I can work with them for real, what a dream that would be 🖤

#illustration #pink fang #artists on tumblr #pink aesthetic #merch #band merch #gig poster #tour poster #poster art #evanescence #amy lee

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magpie-rat-king · 9 months

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I'm currently the high bidder on this glorious Evanescence glitter chair and Im gonna lose my shit if I win it

ID: picture of an iridescent grey wingback arm chair. The lower part supporting the seat has a black patch with a silver e attached to it with decorative upholstery nails. The e is designed just like the logo of the band Evanescence. The wooden legs of the chair are painted black and silver. /end ID

#evanescence glitter chair #evanescence #my immortal #amy lee #ebony dark'ness dementia raven way #someone intentionally made this chair like this and I know they did it because nothing like this exists anywhere else #also the same auction lot has several posters of amy lee in it #i am currently the highest bidder at $7 #7! dollars! for this work of art!

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butchiful · 7 months

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EVANESCENCE IS COMING TO CHILE? WITH ALIEN ANT FARM TOO??INTHE SAME CONCERT.HUH!

#saw a poster outside that said EVANESCENCE really big. Im assuming this is soon.IM SAVING MONEY FUCK YOUUUU #txt #mp3

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noonieboonie · 1 month

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Our record wall!

I like to hang up the posters that come with our vinyl's next to our record player. So far we have Evanescence, Sublime, The White Stripes, and Mitski! We also bought a Nirvana vinyl but it didn't come with a poster:(

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equilibriocomunicativo · 4 months

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“I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone, but though you're still with me, i've been alone…”

Evanescence | My inmortal. Fallen.

#evanescence #amy lee #equilibriomúsica #equilibriocomunicativo #poster #musica #letras de canciones #citas de canciones #frase de cancion #love quotes #life quotes #quotes #quoteoftheday #qoutes #quotation #poster art #dadaismo

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tomsmusictaste · 2 years

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'Femme' We Were Young:

Behold! I may not be able to go to When We Were Young but I thought it'd be fun to make a mock WWWY poster specifically throwing the spotlight on some of the bands in the scene that aren't fronted by cis white guys. Y'know, the more I look at it the more I hate the title I gave this, but ah well it's there now.

Once more I want to stress this is not a real poster (I really do wanna emphasise this 'cause I always get annoyed when I see 'mock' posters that claim to be 'official' when they're actually not) but boy if it were, I reckon this'd be a pretty sick line-up.

Anyway, hope everyone who's at the real WWWY is having a great time! Very jealous of y'all

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chrs-r · 1 year

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Evanescence - The Bitter Truth Typographic posters.

Created a series of typographic posters inspired by the songs on Evanescence’s latest LP “The Bitter Truth.” All fonts were custom fonts created in Illustrator. So far this collection is incomplete with a few songs missing, maybe I’ll get around to creating them but until then...

instagram.com/chrs_r

#Evanescence #The Bitter Truth #Typography #graphic design #fonts #designer #Adobe Illustrator #art #typography poster #colorful #artwork

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sayoneee · 3 months

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☆ AND I KNOW IT’S OVER (STILL I CLING)

percy jackson, who never seems to know when to quit, keeps coming back. (2.9k)

contains: percy jackson x daughter of minor god! reader. post tlo (alt universe - everyone lives). book percy descriptions. apollo (derogatory).

kashaf’s note: book percy descriptions bc that was my first love. (sry if i get some of the words wrong, english isnt my first language pls be patient!!)

SUMMER BURNS. at camp half-blood, the scorching heat has dwindled to soft caresses, from the heat of the fire during sing-alongs where your cabin joins hands and toasts marshmallows to the cool breeze balming the sun’s glare at its zenith in the sprawling strawberry fields. at home, the scorching heat leaves marks — the biker with flames for pupils who clutched an openly bleeding wound as he thrust a first-aid kit at you, and the girl not much older than yourself with tears marring her face as she handed you a pregnancy test to ring up, avoiding your curious (sympathetic) gaze.

however, despite it all — you stand infallible, much like your grandfather’s part convenience store and part pharmacy, a poor man’s family heirloom.

you stand idly, flipping through an edition of seventeen when the rusty door swings open to admit a familiar face — with unruly black hair and an equally reckless grin (you know exactly who it is from the ba-dum of your heartbeat), the infamous son of poseidon (with the same smile as shawn hunter from boy meets world) is easily recognizable.

you glance at the crimson blooming around the crevices of his knuckles, tightly gripping a faded and worn-out skateboard, his scruffy converse squeaking across the tiled floor, raising an eyebrow as you coolly say, “band-aids are in the back, on the right.”

jackson laughs, an all-consuming sound (the wind-blown half-blood hill where apollo seemed to smile down at you, the laughter, like the memory, evanescent), “thanks, doc.”

you discreetly watch him perusing the aisles, before stopping in front of the ancient fridge — your grandfather’s store was something of an 80s pompeii with the peeling posters of back to the future and motley crue and the antiquated maroon and cream color scheme — and pulling out an arizona green tea.

when he finally goes to look for band-aids, you attempt to fix your attention back on the magazine in your hands, but like a moth driven to a flame, percy jackson was unbelievably hard to look away from (a magnet among mortals and immortals alike).

jackson’s hands are on his hips, his tupac t-shirt creasing, thick brows furrowed as he decides between different types of candy with the same intensity as a single mother with two children and a nine-to-five (even in the mortal world, there is something else entirely about him, something that made it so that you could never truly write him off).

when he approaches the register again, it’s hard not to look up and watch his ascent. when he finally does come to a stop in front of you, he looks the same as he did the last summer, though the tiny silver trident earring is new, the camp beads resting peacefully atop his collarbones aren’t.

you ring up his items: a box of band-aids, the arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks, looking away from him all the while.

“good to see ya, doc,” jackson says, a wry grin on his face, and his eyes are so green — as green as they were at twelve.

“it’s never good to see you, jackson,” you snark back, reciting his total, “four ninety-five, by the way.”

he laughs again (your heart goes ba-dum again), and hands you a five dollar bill, shoving his things into the seemingly bottomless pockets of his baggy jeans, with a salute on his way out (his turning back was a sight far more innocuous than the last time).

the next time jackson breaks whatever tacit agreement lies between the two of you, your hands are similarly stained. reds and purples line your palms, much like the burgundy seemingly permanently staining your grandmother’s fingertips; the culprit (the bowl of pomegranate seeds) sits innocently beside you.

“back again?” you say, glancing at the familiar scarlet stains adorning jackson’s hands (a familiar blue friendship bracelet sits on his wrist, edges frayed with five years of wear, and there’s a lump in your throat).

“why, did you miss me?” jackson asks, again with that wry grin of his, skateboard in hand.

“you’re the one who came back,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest, willing the constricting feeling to disappear.

“doc, i’m sorry to have to be the one that has to break this to you,” he sighs sympathetically, putting a bleeding hand over his heart, “but the sun doesn’t revolve around you.”

“actually, jackson, the sun kind of does revolve around me, ‘cause y’know apollo, the sun god apollo? my grandpa apollo? my grandpa, the sun god, apollo?”

“going by your logic, that would mean time revolves around me, ‘cause y’know kronos, the time titan kronos? my grandpa kronos? my grandpa, the time titan, kronos?” jackson says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sets down another band-aid box, an arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks on the counter.

“y’know, if you cared this much, you might’ve passed greek,” you say, referring to the progress report cards you were handed at the end of summer.

he shrugged, handing you another five dollar bill, and proceeding to shove everything into his black holes of jean pockets, “yeah, well — wait, are those pomegranates?”

“yeah,” you say, “i peeled them myself — do you want some?”

(your father liked these, your grandmother had said earlier this afternoon, your mother liked to peel them for him, as i peeled them for her, and your grandfather.)

jackson suddenly looked bashful, fidgeting with the hem of his a tribe called quest t-shirt, “i’ve never had pomegranates before,” he confessed.

you blinked, taken aback, “you’re seventeen years old and you’ve never eaten a pomegranate before?” you pushed the china bowl toward him, “now you have to eat it.”

“my mom liked telling me the myths when i was younger,” he begins, setting down his skateboard, and reaching for the spoon before halting, like he was shocked, “she told me about persephone —”

“jackson,” you say, sardonically, leaning over the register to look him in the eye (there was always a storm brewing in his eyes), “i promise you, hades won’t come out of the ground and drag you to the underworld if you eat the pomegranate seeds i peeled.”

“i know what my next sleep paralysis demon is gonna be — thanks to you,” jackson says, looking down at the bowl and its floral blue pattern around the edges, playing with the spoon, and shifting the seeds from side to side.

“percy jackson, i swear to asclepius, you’re missing out on pomegranates,” you say, coming out from behind the register, and looking percy in the eye again, and there is something so earnest, so raw about your next sentence that his breath catches, “and, i swear on the styx, if hades does somehow come out of the ground to drag you down to the underworld, i’ll come down myself to drag you out, even if it’s tartarus.”

a rumble of thunder can be heard overhead despite the clear sky and scalding sun; percy blinks, before breaking out into a slow grin (your stomach seems to grow wings of its own, on the verge of flight.)

“invoking your dad, huh, doc? these pomegranates must be serious,” percy says, finally taking a bite — stepping around the bomb you just dropped.

you watch him intently, studying him as you studied tennyson and homer, “they are that serious.” there is something innocent about the way he eats, starved like every other teenage boy with black holes for stomachs.

“y’know, i can put that into a tupperware container and you can take it with you, right?” you offer.

“really?” percy asks through a mouthful of seeds, looking up from the bowl at you, “won’t you think i’ll steal it or something?”

“not really,” you shrugged, “i trust ms. jackson.”

percy nods solemnly — sally jackson is sally jackson after all, a queen among women, and an achilles of sorts, with her soft smile and steely eyes.

steeling your nerves, this is already the longest conversation you’ve had (ignoring the forever-ago late-night debriefs under a firmament of stars), you step up to the plate and take a swing, “how is she, by the way, haven’t seen her in a while.”

percy swallowed, eyebrows furrowing, “great — oh, wait, did i tell you she was seeing someone new now?”

“no way, really? good for her, honestly. i know, poseidon’s a god and all, but like, she’s always deserved just, so much more.” (you manage to make contact with the change-up thrown your way.)

there is something so sincere about your words, that percy can’t help but grin back, finally reaching the depths of his sea-green eyes, and there is something still so boyish about him, that you can hardly believe any time has passed at all, and that somewhere within this demigod who successfully defeated kronos, while saving luke, there is still a semblance of your percy.

“yeah, the guy, paul blofis, he’s an english teacher — absolutely worships the ground she walks on.”

“sounds perfect for her.”

“you should come over some time — see her, meet paul, y’know,” percy offers, still funneling spoonfuls of pomegranates, meeting your gaze head-on (this is the home run you were waiting on).

you grinned, a slow smile overtaking your face, pushing your hands in the pockets of your jeans, “might just take you up on that, before you change your mind.” (you’re leaving the ball in his hands now; it’s up to him to tag you out or let you reach home base safely.)

“nah, i won’t change my mind, unlike someone else i know.”

you ignore the jab (a smaller, suppressed part of you itches to shoot a reply back), instead choosing to focus on the hesitant hand of friendship being offered — as your father liked to say, keep moving forward.

you shrugged, and you swear, for a second you think the intensity of his gaze has lessened, almost as if disappointed. almost as if mentally shaking it off, percy hands you the china bowl back, empty, running a hand through his shaggy hair with a sheepish grin.

you smiled wryly, glancing down at the bowl and back to his face. “fatass,” you say, affectionately, and then almost freezing, wondering if you somehow overstepped the invisible lines constricting you.

percy laughs — a green light.

“lucky for you, though,” you say, disappearing behind the register for a moment before reappearing with a tupperware container filled with peeled pomegranates, “i peeled more.”

you hold it out to him, and he glances down at your outstretched hand, then at your face, before seemingly making up his mind, and accepting the olive branch, “you’re really committed to seeing my mom, huh?”

“well, obviously — the other alternative would be seeing you, wouldn’t it?”

“aw, c’mon, doc, i know you missed me,” percy says, a bit smug, picking up his skateboard, the tupperware container in his other hand (the one he still wears your bracelet on).

“in your dreams, jackson.” there is a peal of odd laughter in your voice as if you were unused to this kind of jocularity when fumbling over his name.

“in my dreams, we do more than just argue,” percy says, with one last smug smile and salute, before walking out the door, leaving you behind in the worst state of confusion you’ve possibly suffered (percy jackson: 1, you: 0).

(your grandmother admonishes you later that evening as you stand beside her stooped figure at your kitchen counter, peeling pomegranates, you gave the rest of it to that boy, didn’t you? her voice is not scolding, but you feel like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar once more. your immortal grandfather, the nuisance that he is, stands in the doorway, hands in an 80s leather jacket and matching sunglasses, waiting to be welcomed in. in contrast, his son — your father — brushes past him, grumbling, and takes on your grandmother’s burden.)

the analog clock reads ten fifty-five as you start mopping the floor, yawning when the front door swings open with a jingling bell, and a sharp metallic smell wafts into the store.

you whirl around, gripping the mop in your hand as a baseball bat, immediately alert as your demigod reflexes come into play. you physically relax at the sight of percy clutching his side, crimson pooling on the edges of his white t-shirt.

“of course you would attack a man when he’s injured,” percy says with a grin, blood dripping from a gash over his eye (luke had returned to camp some years ago, with a similar scar), and a split lip, collecting like rust on his t-shirt collar.

you scowled, dropping the mop and immediately rushing toward him, your healing instincts kicking in. lifting one of his arms and letting it curl around you, you shouldered him to the register, cringing with every audible wince percy let out.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked, as you sat him on your stool, reaching for the ambrosia and nectar you kept hidden under the counter for emergencies (one could never be too careful).

percy grinned — it came out more of a grimace, “what isn’t wrong with me — that’s the question you should be asking, doc.” he nodded to himself, and then immediately cringed at the action.

you glared at him, shoving an ambrosia square in his mouth, before turning away from him to put antiseptic on cotton pads. “does ms. jackson know you’re here?”

“no?” percy says. you walk over to the fridge, grab a water bottle, unscrew the cap, and drench the part of his t-shirt covered in blood.

“ow? in case you forgot, i’m still injured here, doc?” percy clutches at his side.

“you dumbfuck, your mom is probably worried out of her mind right now,” you say, scowling, stepping closer to percy (he still towers over you, even when sitting down).

“i iris messaged her,” he shrugs, looking at you as you shift even closer to him, cotton pad in your hand, “she just knows i’m with you — pretty relieved at that, dunno why.”

reaching out to grasp his jaw in your hand, you begin dabbing at the bruises on his cheekbones, his eyes fluttering shut as you try to ignore the way his hot breath is fanning across your face right now. “you didn’t tell her what happened?”

percy opened his eyes, staring at you. “no, how could i?” he says, slowly, “you were her favorite — still are, by the way.”

you don’t say anything for a moment — after all, how could you? (sally jackson’s homemade cookies drift to the front of your treacherous mind — the sunny afternoons with her kind voice, and percy’s loutish laughter.)

“you didn’t come to see her,” percy says, the statement not accusatory, his eyes fluttering shut again (you try not to let the way his eyelashes sit so prettily distract you) as you dab at the gash over his eye.

“i didn’t think i was welcome,” you say gruffly, turning away to grab bandages. “after everything.”

while the deeper wounds have eased into far easier, superficial ones, you still make sure to wrap and bandage everything — percy had a penchant for getting into trouble (one that you knew all too well), so it was the least you could do.

“i just told you that you were welcome, last time i was here, didn’t i?” percy says, an accusation.

“yeah, well, it was hardly an invitation was it?” you say, turning away from him, packing your supplies up.

“doc, you didn’t even come to take your tupperware back.”

you ignore him, moving to walk away when his hand is enclosed around your wrist (the hand that wears your blue friendship bracelet), tugging you around to face him.

percy’s standing up now, his green eyes looking more like a swirling storm with each passing second — he still hasn’t let your wrist go.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, trying to snatch your hand back from him, to no avail — his grip is ironclad.

“i can’t let you walk away with your back turned to me again,” he says (the dim, lantern-lit night comes back into focus, and you wonder if you were too consumed by your own pride, if you had just turned around, if you had just stayed).

you realize too late that tears are pricking in the corners of your eyes, and you manage to successfully wrench your hand out of his grasp, a watery, sarcastic laugh escaping, “you’re a couple years too late, asshole.”

“i know that,” percy says, earnest, reaching out to cup your cheek, and wipe a stray tear (the action stuns you into paralysis), “but i miss you, and my mom misses you, and she hasn’t gotten off my case about you, yet.”

the thought of tender-hearted sally jackson scolding percy is an amusing one, and draws a laugh out of you against your will (percy’s smile grows a little brighter, and asclepius knows you’ve never been able to resist that smile of his), “i’ll come over for ms. jackson, not you.”

percy’s smile is even wider now (his hand is still ghosting your cheek), “same thing.”

“shut up,” you say swatting at his shoulder, trying to duck out from under his arms.

percy avoids your attempts to escape him, instead latching onto your hand, and pulling you out of the store. “c’mon, she’s expecting us for dinner.”

you let out an incredulous laugh, and let yourself be dragged out anyway (you would follow this boy anywhere, even to the depths of tartarus).

(your grandmother watches from the apartment window above the store, a soft smile gracing her lined features.)

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson and the olympians #woc friendly #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x yn #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson one-shot #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson series #percy jackson x fem! reader #percy jackson oneshots #kashaf ki likhai

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sukalaap · 4 months

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Here's what is technically based around my Warriors AU where Scourge & Firestar grew in the same household, but with a more... "furry" aura that is reminiscent of a certain era.

Also the second time I draw my own version of a webcomic, this time being Bjenny Montero's. The Cat Evanescence poster was painted by @saladmandere.

Let's hope cool edgy big bro will let lil' fire bro play "Byakuya" (True Light) on the radio, afterwards.

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oscarwiide · 5 months

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Supernatural Season 1 Promo Poster (2005) // Evanescence Fallen Album Art (2003)

#i love you 2000s blue #i love you emo winchester boys #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #evanescence #CDs #physical media #comparatives #*

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eeeeuuughggg · 6 months

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ticci toby hcs

toby definitely has holes or rips in a lot of his clothing. majority of his socks would have holes and half of his sweaters + pants/jeans have rips. he also wears grandpa sweaters, you cannot argue with me on this.

to add on to this, he also has a lot of band merch. band tees, tote bags, stickers, pins, whaaatever. he treats them like they're ancient artefacts, so most of them are pretty clean and have a surprisingly minimal amount of tears, rips, or holes.

he probably also buys signed CD's, posters or just special edition presses of vinyls. he went to an evanescence concert once and it's probably his favourite concert he's been to.

i'd say a good amount of the creeps underestimate his intelligence due to the fact that he probably isn't the best at expressing himself in words or actions. he fucking HAAATES feeling small or little in comparison to his peers - after all, he's just as smart as they are. he shouldn't be treated like he's beneath them.

i feel like tobias would randomly stare at people. he doesn't understand that he's making them uncomfortable. he just stares at them. their body language. he tries to figure out every little emotion they're feeling by analysing the way they carry themself, their posture - whatever.

he's such a midwestern emo. anyone who says he isn't is a big fat stinking LIAR!!! he definitely listens to loser music, too. dude listens to weezer. (self projecting a little here)

toby is awkward. he's really loud. i think he would have auditory processing disorder. he speaks really loud and someone will tell him "hey, keep it down dude" and he's confused. huh ???? he was speaking normally ????

it's also like that one picture.

"hey do you wanna get french toast"

"sorry can you say that again"

"do you wan-"

"oh shit yeah actually i heard you let's get french toast"

also i know i said this in my other post but he has the weirdest fucking contact names for everyone in his phone. he probably has jeff or tim (if you hc or whatever they're in the same universe) saved as "cocksucker mcgee"

he probably kinda stinks. doesn't like showers because of the water. he may not have any temperature perception but he fucking hates water. he doesn't like the way it feels on his skin. it's just icky.

toby probably puts on eyeliner sometimes. it's like that diary of a wimpy kid scene when frank asks rodrick if he's wearing eyeliner. i dunno who frank would be in this scenario but it's true.

he'd walk up to nina and ask to borrow her eyeliner. i forgot to clarify by eyeliner i mean black waterline pencils.

on roadtrips toby is almost always in control of the aux. @tobyislame has a REALLY fucking good toby playlist. (sorry for the @ by the way, whoopsies)

toby hoards things. he collects things, then will refuse to get rid of them even though they serve literally no purpose. he probably has a bunch of rocks with googly eyes stuffed away in a shoebox in his closet.

also,, he's probably allergic to bees.

#creepypasta #crp #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta hcs #crp headcanons #crp hcs #ticci toby #toby rogers #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby hcs #toby rogers headcanons #toby rogers hcs #tobias erin rogers #tobias erin rogers headcanons #tobias erin rogers hcs #headcanons #hcs

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clydesavage-thefox147 · 2 months

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Calling all Prinxiety Shippers, this analysis is for you!💜❤️

So, I have had my eyes set on Virgil's Spotify Playlist for a while now. And a few songs have caught my attention that I'd like to talk about.

The one in particular that I will discuss here is "Sally's Song" covered by Amy Lee from Evanescence, originally by Catherine O-Hara. A classic song from the even more classic movie The Nightmare before Christmas. Now, it's understandable why Virgil would have this song on there. It's from one of his favorite movies, it's a designated emo staple with lines like "We can live like Jack and Sally if we want" in Blink-182's "I Miss You", and overall it's Tim Burton which he's shown interest in as well. But, I wonder why this song in particular. He could've picked "This is Halloween" or "Jack's Lament" but..he picks "Sally's Song"? This isn't the only time he's been affiliated with this song either. In the 2020 Holiday Show, Thomas covered it in reference to Virgil's celebration of the holidays.

It's been stated that the songs on each playlist are on there for a reason. Some songs on each are directed specifically at another Side. I think I know who's being directed at here from Virgil's POV. Think about it, Sally is very similar to that of Virgil. Both are restless and want freedom despite the risks, they are both caution and concerned for others especially those they love, and just their overall aesthetics aline with a stitch work-ragdoll like appearance. The song in question is about Sally showing her concern for Jack. It briefly touches on her need for freedom and inclusion, but it's mostly about her love and consideration for Jack. Hell, she sang it right after Jack took off on his Christmas exploits that she knew would fail and tried to warn him. She thinks the love is one-sided, she gives up in believing it'll happen. However, it was reprised in the end with both of them admitting their love for each other.

Who is Jack in this situation? You could say Jack is a bit like Virgil in wanting to move away from scaring people all the time..but Jack's demeanor and personality isn't very Virgil like. He's ambitious, overly I might add. He's desperate, he's dedicated, he suffered an identity crisis, he's associated with royal standing as the Pumpkin King, and his voice is rather regal. Who does that sound like to you? Roman.

Sally's concern for Jack's actions failing or getting him hurt ties in with Virgil's behavior as anxiety. One major thing is concern for Roman being too forceful in his desperation for a boyfriend for Thomas could've got him rejected or hurt. This was shown in FWSA..the same episode where a sticker of Jack and Sally peaked both of their interest. They both have shown a love for this movie, so much so that Roman wanted Virgil's posters of it back in Accepting Anxiety part 2.

Sure, you could say that this could be directed at Nico but Virgil's playlist was debut in April of 2020, FWSA wasn't released until October. Sure, it could have been foreshadowing but I highly doubt it since the song itself shows that the person the narrator wanted in question, was already known to them and their concern for them was justified. You could say it's directed at Thomas, but this song is too romantic in its undertones to be that, even if it said "friend" in the lyrics...Roman called Virgil "Friendo" (so did Janus as Patton but that's besides the point).With lines like "What will become of my dear friend, where will his actions lead us then" could be reference to how Roman's overambitious behavior and reckless actions could be a problem. Stating a question Virgil was asked back in 2018 at live Vidcon QnA, Virgil did say he liked Roman's ambition..but wasn't sure he wanted that in his life. Maybe he's willing to take the chance now?

So, it's fair to say that "Sally's Song" is directed at Roman. They both are carbon copies of the characters, they both love the film, and the overall hints of this song and film in regards to them are too obvious to miss. ❤️💜

Seems like Virgil wants to live like Jack and Sally with Roman. 💜❤️

P.S: we so need an official Virgil cover of Sally's Song..like come on 😁

#sanders sides #sanders sides fandom #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #fanders #prinxiety

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