I Hope I'm Not An Oracle.

Imagine this POV with me: (a little fiction for the fun of it and because sleep is not happening)

They see you.

They. See. You.

You're standing in a crowd of people crushing through the arena corridors between food vendor lines that are absurdly in the way, and the noisy merch sellers.

You find yourself trapped in a standstill. You're nearly crushed up against the person that dead stopped infront of you. There's just so many lines over lapping and people dead stopping to gawk at their tickets and phones.

No one ever looks up.

But, in these moments where you feel your heart pounding too hard and the crush of the crowd too much, you got in the habit of looking up to find free space to breathe.

You closed your eyes. Tilted your chin up and up, letting your head fall back against your shoulders. And inhaled.

The arena air wasn't anything special. Beer is always a sharp, cutting note through the grease of hot dogs and popcorn. You keep breathing a few lungfuls more.

As you open your eyes, expecting to see a white painted criss-cross of steel girders and concrete slabs, you instead make contact with darkness.

You're so surprised by the unexpected, that you can't really understand what you're looking at until it moves. And shines.

About 20 feet above you, gliding along a catwalk, is The Band.

You're stunned. You're seeing them. And they're very clearly seeing you. Except, no way. Right? Nah, you're one face in this chaotic sea of fans, there's no way.

Tobias has been walking with his head focused on the crowd. He loves to see his congregation before sevice. Welcoming them with love and blessings for a good evening. He is the silent Watcher in the Sky right here, right now, and the irony is enough to make you chuckle.

The Ghoulettes are clearly gawking at all of you and are just as excited to see how many fans there are as you are to see all of the band.

You smile, a really big, toothy grin, as you watch them walk by. This is such a peaceful and rare moment. Like a nature documentary, but you're both observers and rare beautiful creatures to the other.

What if?

You just?

Waved?

You slowly, careful not to draw attention from the rest of the crushing crowd that isn't paying the slightest attention to anything, raise one hand over your head and.

Shake shake. Just a quick little wiggle of the wrist.

No way they saw that. Right?

Right?

IT'S A COSTUME OF BONES YOU DIPSHITS

Holy shit, this is gorgeous!!!

like a mother would save ⋆˚꩜｡

her own child from digging a grave

Can't stop won't stop

"This is what Dreams are made of" is ringing theough my ears.

I know it's hunger and my concert tinnitus acting up.

Still, I hear it, like a beaconing call.

I feel it.

The smoldering ember of creation, burning away the decay.

I'm. So. Close.

I'm so close to making something!!!

WHAT THE HECK WILL IT BE????

(I legit don't know and have 15 ADHD Crafts/Hobbies, so don't put too much stock into this)

My soul feels like a speaker and it keeps blasting the "Save Me" of Satanized.

Good day.

I finally almost look like the Bad Ass Goth Girl I always wanted to be, and Tumblrs stupid algorithm is filtering me.

Come on, let a ghoul get a win.

✨💜 Perpetua 💜✨

Brain rotted: everytime, I get to the "Save Me" of Satanized, I veer wildly into Evanesance territory.

Welp, I guess I gotta make a dumb mix.

This meme, but your favorite papa outfits.