Couting It For The Perpetua Smile Alerts

Sorry I cropped your shots so badly, Richard

I can be your angel. Or your devil

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?

Update: Levitating

Just floating around

THE MOUTH ON THE CORSET OMFG

perpetua-l terror

drawn on procreate

This just reminded me that I'm not going to get devoured anytime soon.

Fuck, I miss Joe. He would have loved this.

One thing about Ghost I know I can always count on is that musically, they’re never gonna switch it up when I am moaning “yes right there don’t stop.” Their songs are never gonna dj my inner thigh crease while smiling smugly; it’s a discography that clearly and proudly knows where the clit is. It’s a back catalogue that’s two fingers in and curving up in a come-here motion. It’s a band that checks in and asks questions, wants to make you feel good and feel good together. It’s a musical experience that leaves your thighs shaking and a face wet, and I respect that tremendously.

This one's for you, V.

So this is just hiding out there on the internet (I need to be rhinestoning, but I'm just stoned scrolling)

A black moon, over the Peacefield

Can't stop won't stop