#i should be asleep but im thinking of him

[wqnwoos]

⇢ pairing. chwe vernon x reader ⇢ summary. vernon loves music, and you love vernon. ⇢ genre. fluff, bffs2lovers, college!au ⇢ word count. approx. 2k ⇢ author’s note! happy (early) valentine’s day! i unfortunately wrote this last week which means it came so close to deletion at least 10 times, and so im posting it now to prevent that. thank you to alta @haologram for helping me brainstorm the playlist, i truly believe u are a gift to this world.

playlist. love language, kehlani / jasmine, dpr live / want u around, omar apollo & ruel / like i want you, giveon / thinkin bout you, frank ocean / best part, daniel caesar & h.e.r.

It’s closing in on two in the morning when you finally leave the library. Your phone’s been on do not disturb since you got there at seven, which feels like forever ago — as you exit, casting a sympathetic glance at the remaining two students still glued to their textbooks, you scroll quickly through your notifications. Two emails, a follow request, and a passive-aggressive threat from Duolingo.

You pull your coat tighter around you as you finally emerge through the last set of double doors — it’s freezing, and you’re just about to stow your hands deep into your pockets when your phone buzzes.

[2:03am] vernon 👽🖤 yo [2:03am] vernon 👽🖤 ur prob asleep but i made u smth [2:04am] vernon 👽🖤 https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4grGIbqG5VSvNpDLuwdG7X

Instinctively, you smile. You and Vernon have a bunch of playlists. A collaborative one, for when you’re together, driving or hanging out or whatever. Then he has one for you with all the songs he thinks you’ll like, and then you have one for him for the same reason. 

[2:05am] you another one?  [2:06am] vernon 👽🖤  yooo why are u still up dude [2:06am] you hypocrite 🫵 [2:06am] you but i’m walking home from the library rn

vernon 👽🖤  is calling . . .

“Dude,” he says, by way of greeting, and he doesn’t sound impressed.

“Dude,” you mimic exactly, biting back a smile at the sound of his voice.

“It’s two in the morning,” he sighs, and you can hear sheets rustling in the background. “Why are you walking home alone?”

“It’s not far, Vernon.” 

“It’s dark and it’s been snowing. You should have called me,” he reprimands without any heat. “I would’ve picked you up.”

“Well, it is two in the morning.” You cross the road, stepping over a patch of snow. “I assumed you’d be asleep, not curating another playlist.”

“Oh. Yeah, that — that was — have you opened it?” Vernon’s words trip over each other, and your lips turn up ever so slightly. God, he’s so sweet.

“What, are you nervous?” you tease, unable to resist. “I have, like, fifteen of your playlists saved already.”

“You haven’t opened it,” he infers, and exhales a little. “Okay, um, maybe you should… wait. Until the morning or something.”

“Yeah, right,” you snort. “I’m listening to it now! It’s going to keep me company on my way home. Talk to you later!”

And you hang up before he can protest, already scrolling to find the link he sent you.

The first thing you notice is the name — Love Language. Which makes your heart twist a little, until you realise it’s the name of the first song, and anyway, you and Vernon have made this joke a hundred times. His love language is making playlists, he does it for his friends all the time. You included — you especially. Like the time he’d eaten the last slice of a cake you’d bought, apparently because he thought it was free-for-all. You’d given him the silent treatment for a day and a half before he’d texted you a playlist link: 

I AM (IVE)

really (mimi bay)

Sorry (Justin Bieber)

About (SoKuen)

EATING (Sukihana)

The Cake (John Powell)

I Will (Remastered 2009) (The Beatles)

Buy (Cousines like Shit)

You (Basil Valdez)

MORE (j-hope)

Please Please Please (Sabrina Carpenter)

Forgive Me (Chloe x Halle)

It made you laugh, because Vernon always makes you laugh. A few months and a few playlists later, you were harbouring the biggest crush known to mankind.

That was three years ago. You and Vernon are seniors now, set to graduate next summer, and what was meant to be a harmless crush on a friend has turned into being completely, totally in love with your best friend. It wasn’t that serious until it suddenly was. It was butterflies in your stomach when you saw him, at first. Now it’s like a sigh of relief. It's more coming home. Which is a lot more dangerous, and a lot more painful.

You handle it, most days, but sometimes he’ll do something or say something that completely throws your perfectly regulated emotions into overdrive. He’ll laugh at a stupid joke you make, or he’ll grab your hand to make a point or he’ll tell you that you’re pretty, and your heart swells until it presses painfully against your ribs, hot and slippery and aching. Those days, you mostly go home just to lie on the floor, listen to the only playlist of yours that Vernon hasn’t seen.

The second thing you notice about the playlist Vernon made you is the cover. It’s you, you know it immediately, and you know exactly which day it was taken. You just didn’t know it was taken. But your best friend must’ve snapped a photo when you weren’t looking, because the cover is you, looking up at the cherry blossom tree that the two of you stumbled on during a late-night walk. It was maybe a little under a year ago, it was the night you realised you loved him, and it was the night you almost kissed.

You don’t know if he remembers it the same way you do. To you, that’s your biggest what if? moment. To him, it’s probably just another fun memory with his friend. His best friend, if you’re lucky.

It takes you a second, but you finally click play on the playlist — but the picture stares back at you, practically taunting you with the memory.

The two of you had been walking for twenty minutes, sharing airpods, until you’d seen the tree and gathered a pile of pink petals to dump over Vernon’s head; he’d realised what you were doing just a moment too late. Asshole, he’d said smilingly, brushing the petals off with two hands. Everything that happened next was cliché. He’d missed a spot, one pale petal still clinging to his hair; you reached your hand up to get it, and lingered a little too long, a little too close. You don’t think you’ve ever held eye contact for so long — it felt like forever and then some.

Until his eyes flicked downward. Only for a split second: if you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it, but you saw it, and it was enough to have you taking a step back. Not like this, you’d thought to yourself. You wouldn’t do anything like that. You wouldn’t throw years of friendship and an extended period of pining away so easily — you wouldn’t risk it over an impulse that Vernon was experiencing. If you couldn’t have all of him, you refused to even take one night. You’d rather not know than live with the memory.

You’re halfway through the second song when you finally snap out of the memory, and you can actually take a moment to glance at the rest of the playlist. To your surprise, it’s short — it’s only six songs — and more interestingly, you know all these songs. And Vernon knows you know them; some of them you recommended to him, some of them he’s sent to you already, and you’re still wondering what he’s thinking as the third song ends. 

Despite you claiming to be his best friend, you don’t always understand Vernon. Sometimes it’s little things, like how he fist bumps the cat on the street corner of his apartment. Sometimes it’s bigger, like the girl he dated last year. You didn’t understand that — or maybe you didn’t want to, because yes, you were well on your way to being in love with him, but he also didn’t tell you. You found out from Seungkwan (who was kind of triumphant about it, because he was always vying for the position of Vernon’s best friend, and he finally knew something you didn’t).

Mina was lovely. As if Vernon would date someone not lovely — he brought her to movie night after a month or so of them seeing each other, and she met your group of friends, and everyone loved her. Even you. And honestly, after excusing yourself to the bathroom to blink away your watery eyes, you convinced yourself that it was for the better: that this would be how you officially got over your best friend. So when Soonyoung asked you to go on a blind date with one of his friends the next week, you said yes. You and Wonwoo saw each other for about a month before you broke it off, and about a month after that, Vernon showed up at movie night without his girlfriend, and casually mentioned that they’d broken up.

Even the news of that didn’t do much to soothe you, because you’d quickly come to a conclusion while dating Wonwoo: that it would not be easy to get over your best friend. You knew you loved him now. You’d come to that realisation under the cherry blossom tree, a few months after both of your breakups, a year after you realised that you liked him like that in the first place. It’s been well over two years since you first fell for him, and you’ve been stuck there ever since — falling deeper and deeper because you refuse to pull yourself out.

Sometimes, on your most hopeful nights, you think that maybe Vernon could feel something too. Some nights he looks at you with a certain shine in his eyes, or when he hugs you he makes it last a little longer than usual. Some nights he opens his mouth to say something and the words get stuck in his throat, and he waves it off like nothing happened. Symptoms that are all too familiar.

Those nights are even worse, the ones where you go home and read too much into his every move, try in vain to stifle the hope that insists on clawing its way to your chest. Those nights are getting more and more frequent, and you don’t know how much longer you can handle it. Those nights, something in you is convinced he feels something, that maybe he could like you — on the very worst, you think he might even love you. But by the next morning, you’re dead certain that all you’ll ever be is a friend to him.

But now — today — you’re eight minutes away from home and nearly five songs in when it starts snowing, and at the same time, the cogs in your mind slowly start turning. You love these songs, Vernon knows you love these songs. You’re pretty sure they’re some of his favourites too; he’s always listening to them. And you’re so preoccupied with the realisation that’s sinking in, that same traitorous hope you’ve always shoved down stirring again in your chest, you barely even notice the snowflakes settling around you.

Because maybe you don’t always understand Vernon, but most of the time you do, even if it takes a little while — even if he has to spell things out for you, like his stupid cake playlist. Because that’s what he’s doing, you realise with a sudden jolt, looking at your favourite songs. Your favourite love songs. He’s spelling it out for you. That this is his love language; that he wants you; that he thinks about you; and as the last song finishes, just as you turn onto your street — if you love me, won’t you say something?

When you finally look up, you think you’re hallucinating. Because Vernon’s standing in front of your apartment building, holding an umbrella, and it startles you so much you actually stop in your tracks a few metres from him, blinking idiotically.

Vernon gives you a shy smile, charming and awkward. Your heart does the thing it always does when he looks at you like that; stutters, skips a beat, clenches tightly.

“You stopped replying to my texts,” he says, and the street’s empty enough that you can hear him, even from where you’re standing. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You don’t say anything because what can you even say? Where do you even start? You don’t have words — but you tap quickly at your phone with a sudden idea, and you hear the ping of Vernon’s phone from where you’re standing. You move closer anyway, smiling at the familiar furrow of his brow as he glances between you and the phone he digs out of his pocket. And you see the exact moment he registers what you’ve sent him, the smile that spreads across his face.

[2:39am] you https://open.spotify.com/track/5oO3drDxtziYU2H1X23ZIp [love on the brain - rihanna]

You and Vernon first met at a party. Seungkwan had promised both of you, separately, that it wasn’t a party, more of a small gathering between his friends, but of course, Seungkwan’s definition of small doesn’t match yours. And so you were kind of hiding in a corner, nodding your head and mouthing subconsciously to Rihanna’s Love on the Brain; you’d turned your head a few inches, and Chwe Vernon was standing a few metres away, doing the exact same thing. You guys had accidentally made eye contact and split into matching embarrassed smiles, until he’d sat next to you. He’d offered you possibly the most awkward fist bump ever, pairing it with an even more awkward, “So, uh, got love on the brain?” You’d laughed, and that was it — the beginning of you and Vernon.

Now, he pockets his phone again, but holds the umbrella out over both of your heads, which only makes you giggle. “You brought an umbrella?”

“It’s snowing,” he shrugs, but his smile is wide, “It’s just like… colder rain.” 

“Stupid.” What’s more stupid is the smile you can’t peel off your face. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” he counters, and you tilt your head with a sheepish smile. So many reasons, but one look at him and you forget them all.

“So,” he murmurs, slipping his free hand around your waist, “got love on the brain, hm?”

“Something like that,” you agree, and after three years of wanting and waiting, you finally kiss him.

a/n i linked the playlist vernon made at the top (yes i dug up one of my very old spotify accounts to do this). i have very mixed feelings about this one. it's kind of cheesy but so is most of my work, and anyway it's valentine's day!! so who cares!!! also once again this got a banner bc once again this picture inspired the whole thing. also wtf is up with tumblr ruining image quality!!!

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud

@tokitosun @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin

@icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars

@immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya

@yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9

@lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

@iamawkwardandshy @twilghtkoo @yuuyeonie @lllucere

@pearlesscentt

@sourkimchi @porridgesblog

[gublersquill]

To love and be loved by me

Spencer x BAU Reader

Reader spends Valentine's Day alone after Spencer is called out on a case but doesn't tell her.

AN: Hey Loves <3 its been a while im trying to get writing more before i start uni so i could love any requests and feedback

TW: Angst. The reader is self-conscious, overthinking, and struggles with insecurity about her looks.

WC: 0.9K

The cloth scrapes across your face, smudging the mascara lines over your cheeks. You throw it aside, leaning on your palms as they press against the porcelain of the sink. Your face hovers over the basin, tears splattering against the alabaster surface.

You shuffle out of the bathroom, curling into a ball on your shared bed. Cold. It was always cold now when you slept—no soft hands tracing circles into your skin, no one there to hold you, to pull you away from the rest of the world, to whisper how much you mean.

Instead, you wrap your arms around yourself, burying your face in your sweater, trying to fight off the tears. You should have expected this—you just dared to hope that, for once, it would be different. That maybe, this time, he would finally stop trying to save everyone else and start trying to save you.

And you know you don’t need saving, You can handle yourself.

But it was just so nice to lean on someone. That had always been one of your favorite things about Spencer—how much he cared, how he always seemed to know exactly what you needed.

Well, he used to.

The book, wrapped in brown paper, sits abandoned on the marble counter. Beside it, your bag rests haphazardly, the metal strap dangling off the edge. It had taken hours of scouring bookstores to find something that felt just right, something that truly fit.

And then, there it was. Sitting in the barely lit corner of a second-hand bookstore, the soft brown leather cover was both worn and inviting. When you opened it, you found a message scrawled on the inside cover:

"With a love that the wingèd seraphs of HeavenCoveted her and me.To my beloved Lillian."

It was perfect. That poem—the one Spencer would recite to guide you into a soft, dreamless sleep.

After buying the book, you added your own note beneath:

"And this maiden she lived with no other thought,Than to love and be loved by me.To my beloved Spencer,Who showed me that love was all around us ."

You huff, sitting up in bed and checking your messages again. It wasn’t as if this was a big deal anyway. You’d always resented Valentine’s Day—the excess of it all made you feel sick to your stomach. But he had always made it special.

You had grown to understand the goofy smiles and the boxed chocolates. One year, he’d shown up at your apartment with a bottle of wine and a leather-bound copy of To the Lighthouse in his hands. He had smiled, so effortlessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “I saw it and thought of you,” he’d said softly, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed you the leather-bound book. “I know it’s your favorite.”

You had welcomed him in, and the evening unfolded like magic—sometimes quite literally, as he laughed while pulling the bottle opener from behind your ear. The two of you talked about everything and nothing, sharing greasy takeout and sipping wine. When the night finally came to an end, you fell asleep together, wrapped in his arms, with no idea where you ended and he began.

This is what you think about as you lie in bed alone. It feels silly to be so upset over something so trivial. 

What was it Spencer had said about crimes increasing over the holidays? But he’d promised it would never happen again.

You still remember the sting of that empty seat across from you, the waitress’s pitying glance as you paid for the wine he never showed up to share.

Spencer had of course apologized profusely the next morning—something about a sadistic narcissist. You’d forgiven him. 

 But it just kept happening.

Silence and darkness always unearthed the thoughts you tried so hard to bury. Thoughts that slither into your mind on nights like these. You pull the blanket up to your chin, shivering.

Thoughts of him—his voice, the way his lips curl into a smile—are crowded with others. Was he sitting in a meeting room somewhere, his phone set to silent. You can almost picture him, gesturing with his hands, laughing at something Emily had said.

She is stunning. Her soft brown eyes are the first thing you see in your mind. You trace the features of her face—her elegant nose leading down to those perfectly shaped Cupid’s bow lips.

Is he looking at her right now? Spending Valentine's Day working with his beautiful colleague? Is he sitting too close? Can she smell the cologne you carefully picked out for him to wear today? Your throat aches at the thought.

It’s wrong to think like this—you know that. You know him, sometimes better than he does. It’s selfish. It must be selfish. You think you should have more trust in him.

But then again, maybe you are right to feel upset. Maybe you’re not being oversensitive. Maybe he just didn’t think.

It’s physically impossible for him to forget your plans. That thought does nothing but twist the knots in your stomach tighter.

You sigh, rolling onto your side, looking over at the empty space next to you and pulling the blanket tighter. You push those thoughts away as you start to whisper to yourself.

"And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee."

[angelyuji]

drinking with papa!

this one i wrote in like 30 minutes lmao inspiration flowed through me i felt like a prophet i am wiritng the words given to me by god... pause idk if god's into fauxcest... i mean he has to be since he made me like this and we're all made in god's image so maybe he is into it.... i think im losing my mind (also trying out scheduled posts to see if it works isnt technology insane, im so glad i was born in this era like i cant imagine being anywhere else in time)

stepdad!logan howlett x reader

minors dni!!! 18+!!!!!!!!!!!!!

tw // yandere, drinking, pervert logan, pervert stepdad, abuse of power, forced intoxication

you stumble in through the window, trying to land on the soft carpet to muffle the sound. "where have you been?" you freeze, eyes snapping to your step-father lounging on his recliner. he sips on his beer as he takes in your attire. you don't respond, pretending to freeze. "you think that i won't see you if you don't move?" he quirks an eyebrow at your stance. you sigh, carefully taking your shoes off.

"is my mom asleep?" you whisper.

"don't you think there's something else you should be saying, sweetheart?" logan takes a sip, his eyes raking your body. you roll your eyes, ignoring his words. you try to walk past him, but his words give you pause, "i don't like being ignored, (y/n). get over here. now." you grit your teeth and walk over to him, standing in front of the gruff man. his hand comes up to grip your thigh, you try to back up, but he glares. you clench your fists and stay in place. "if you didn't want something like this to happen, baby, you shouldn't have dressed like a whore." your eyes widen.

"i'm not a whore. everyone wears stuff like this." you cross your arms, you try to leave, but his hand moves up to squeeze your butt. you yelp and try to back up, but he pulls. you stumble, landing face first in his chest. logan manuevers you into his lap. you struggle, but his firm grip around your waist keeps you trapped.

"you ain't everyone, sweetheart. you're mine." he growls. you feel him sniff your hair, "you drank too? wow... i'm so disappointed, baby." you try to defend yourself, but his beer presses against your lips. you move your face, but logan grips your jaw to face him. "you'll drink with strangers, but you won't drink with me?" you shake your head. logan's grip tightens, "this is your punishment, (y/n). either you drink what i give you or i force it down your throat." he growls, pressing the bottle to your lips. you feel your breath get stuck in your throat as you open your mouth. the liquor flows quickly, you try to drink fast, but the alcohol overflows out of your mouth. it drips down the sides of your mouth onto your top and logan tips the beer further, making more spill down your front. you choke, spitting out the beer, and heave as air fills your lungs. he laughs, deep and cruel. before you could react, something wet presses against you. you freeze as logan drags his tongue up your neck to your mouth. you shove yourself off him.

"you're sick." your words come out hoarse and you feel your skin crawl, remembering the feel of his tongue against your skin.

"don't sneak out again, sweetheart." he smirks as you tremble. you stumble away, trying to put distance between yourself and your mother's husband. he chuckles as you "next time, it won't be a beer you're forced to drink."

[itswhattheycallyou]

laying in bed kicking my legs in the air smiling (thinking about animations and drawings of my oc i dont have the time to do)

[purpleshadow-star]

It's kind of funny (heartbreaking) that there were multiple Ravens who wanted a number, to the point where some tried to manipulate Jean into helping them one way or another, but none of them would have been next in line. No matter what they did, there was always someone ahead of them on the list. Someone who wasn't even on the team. That someone wasn't Neil. Neil was a surprise to everyone, including Riko. That someone was Andrew.

Kevin might have had to beg Riko to go visit Andrew, and Riko might have laughed at Kevin and dismissed Andrew when Andrew turned him down, but make no mistake, if Andrew had accepted and had become a Raven, he would have taken that #4 spot within his first year.

If we're being real, Andrew had more of a chance at becoming part of the perfect Court than any of those Ravens ever had. Even Jean thinks of Andrew as one of them.

The other Ravens never stood a chance.

[unriding]

me n moze say good morning to the world !!! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

art by @rabbbitseason of course <3

[cheshitora]

oh nothing, just imagining latino!baji and you growing up in a barrio your whole life, never knowing anything outside of your normal lives of poverty. the one driving force keeping you two sane is the bond you share together and a passion you picked up from the neighboring teens - dancing. but not any dancing, salsa.

you were the first to experience the older kids entangled in the passionate dance, your eyes glued to their connected bodies as they spun, kicked and enchanted the dancefloor. a young girl noticed you out of the corner of her eye as her partner spun her around in circles, a soft smile on her face as she trotted towards your hiding spot.

she took your hand into hers, her palm clammy from the heat of the night and exersion of the dance. she was your teacher - you, her pupil. everything you learned was her doing and she made sure to teach you not just the steps, but how to seduce your partner, how to draw them in and keep them on their toes, how to never let the fire die out until the dance is over.

after perfecting your newly acheived craft, you sought out a dance partner, someone to move melodically with you, the read the dance as well as you could. you knew only one person who could match your energy - baji. and baji, of course, told you no.

it took days, weeks of convincing a clearly undeterred baji to be your dance partner and after a month of begging and pleading, he caved in, just to shut you up. he wasn't the most coordinated at first and definitely not the most patient, becoming frustrated if he messed up a step or if you stepped on his foot, even once bumping heads with each other as you tried to practice your turns.

it took longer than expected, with baji turning out to be a better partner than you could've initially imagined. despite the first few days of missteps and pent up frustration, you noticed how fast baji picked up the steps, how easily he swayed to the music, how his body fit perfectly against yours like missing puzzle pieces, the chemistry between the two of you palpable as the days carried on.

the weeks and months carried on and your dancing progressed, along with your growing feelings for baji. you hadn't expected to fall for your childhood best friend, only intending to have the perfect dance partner to dance the nights away with and now, you truly only envisioned baji on those nights with you.

you could almost feel the way his rough hands gripped your waist, his hips pressed tight against yours as your bodies traced the rhythm of the music, his darkened eyes gazing into yours as the dance heightened, reaching its peak before coming to a reluctant close.

suddenly, all of your thoughts contained visions of your raven haired dance partner. you couldn't get him out of your head, images of his hardened body towering over you plastered into your mind, making it nearly impossible to be in his presence, prompting you to almost avoid him entirely, though this hadn't gone unnoticed by baji.

during another practice session, your eyes consistently avoided his, looking in every other direcfion but his, his frustration growing as you continued to mess up the steps to your dance. the final straw was you turning so fast without realizing and slamming into his chest as you came to a halt, the two of you toppling over onto the beaten ground of his basement.

your inital reaction was to stand back up apologize. instead, as you looked down at him, your body draped not-so-delicately over his, leaned down to softly brush your lips against his, your heart going 100 mph in your chest as he looked at you, his eyes widened in surprise. it dawned on you what you wete doing but before you could even muster an apology, let alone form another thought, he reached out, placing his hand behind your head, pulling you down into another deep kiss.

and after a few more heated seconds, he pulled away from you, your breaths mingling as you gazed into each other's eyes, a mutual understanding of your unspoken feelings for the other. with a grin, baji stood back up on his feet, dusting off his clothes as he helped you off the floor. the night was still young and practice was far from over, but this time, it was baji who would take the lead.

"eyes up here," he commanded, pointing into his own for your understanding. you nodded, a cheerful smile on your face as he took your hand into his, his arm snaking around your waist, pressing you against him as you carried out the rest of your night, a new future mounting over the horizon as you danced the night away.

or you know, something like that.

[aether-weather]

DP FANDOM. i call on you with A Question.

please answer this i need other people's opinions!!!!!

[oifaaa]

Thinking about the rule of three and how if a good writer got ahold of Dick then maybe the next time Dick gets to go full righteous anger on a guy the fucker he's punching doesn't get back up

[vigilskeep]

if you took a bad enough hit while dao rock armour was active, could you have scars from blunt force trauma that spiderweb like cracks in stone

[salt-n-salt]

HI! Wishing you the best for finals!

Sorry if it's a bother but I just realised that I haven't actually made a clear distinction between my two besties.

The screenshot one absolutely is not a Shane girlie, like AT ALL. And the horse friend is a very big Shane fan for the exact same reasons as you.

This image encapsulates these two cause they obsess over the same characters but SHANE is the one divide.

Thank you for looking at this goofy ass not-an-ask and as thanks, here's some teaser sketches for the Apollo ref sheet and a WIP Shane on fire for an au I'm cooking up🙇‍♂️

AGAIN BEST OF LUCK WITH FINALS!!!

CRUNCHY ! TWO THINGS !

to ur boob-loving and shane-hating friend .. i ask .. how can u hate a man w honkers THAT honking .. close ur eyes and let the boobs be all he is .. 👩‍💼 as evidence i offer to the court shane and haley comparing boob sizes:

TWO ! it’s criminal and actually illegal that I haven’t given u an apollo yet so I’m dropping one here 🤭 in a skin tight shirt bc im sure u know why

ALSO IM STILL EXCITED TO SEE UR SHANE ON FIRE AU .. SALEM WITCH TRIAL SHANE AU ..

[jfkisonthemoon]

they honestly couldve done so much with junpei beheaded/dismembered and im disappointed that it ended up just being mira. so much of his character and his relationship with akane is characterized by his lack of bodily autonomy, and him being openly beheaded during the nonary games would be the ultimate example of this. its perhaps the most brutal death in the game, and it never really gets explained or developed beyond the one puzzle that we get with it. junpei has been shown repeatedly to be subject to akane's plans or follow her blindly and i just think that would have been a really interesting angle to approach his beheading from. junpei has willingly signed up for nonary games in two different timelines just because he knew he would see her. he was infected with a deadly virus trying to find her. he grew desensitized to death as he took underground jobs to try and find her. his safety always comes second when shes in the picture, and his beheading wouldve been a prime opportunity to 1. exploit his willingness to let himself die/be injured for her and 2. make akane confront the fact that her confidence that junpei will always follow after her is not necessarily a positive thing.

[possamble]

realizing im kind of a weirdo about laios and marcille

[autobahnmp3]

im ready for tomorrow whatever it may bring (hopefully one nightmarish person getting fired)

[crossnamara]

horrible when music reminds me of people. what do you MEAN all of a verbal equinox and fucking. dirty little secret (bc she had it on her playlist for me) reminds me of my ex fwb.... girl..........................

[cloudcountry]

i love how i come back to twst post about how much i hate idia for a few days and then leave again it's such a cycle