oh splendid!!!! i will do some research and conjure up a design and get to it! i've never made a ghoul design but they're all so fun i can't wait, thank you for the request!!!!!
pebble with a pepsi for the wonderful @caesar-xx ! sorry it took me a hot second to get around to!
i made a pebble design for this and he gives me a sorta flannel, lumberjack-ey energy for some reason. but specifically, a trans man lumberjack. very crucial to the vibe to me. and i gave him goat characteristics cus yeah
Okayyy i'm very excited about this ! This is the first piece for an AU I might elaborate on later. The past is haunting Bartender!Omega. They're all human in this AU, but there is supernatural stuff.
There's a stranger hidding in the shadows of the corner booth he claimed for himself, and Omega feels the weight of his gaze like a physical weight despite how the stranger keeps his eyes carefully out of view. He didn't get to see him walk in, or order, too busy chatting up a regular who always gives bigger tips when thrown a few flirty comments at. All he knows is that one minute, everything was as normal as it can be with the rowdy crowd the Meliora bar draws, and the next, the tell-tale prickly feeling at the back of his neck informed him that he was being watched.
It's been going on for a good two hours. It irks Omega like nails on a chalkboard, for some reasons. He's not usually one to be bothered by scrutiny ; most of the time, he even finds it flattering. But today, irrationally, the shrouded eyes boring holes into the side of his face are making his blood boil. His hand clenches around the rag he's dragging over the counter in an attempt to make the various stains on it less visible. At least it doesn't stick. Much. The floor, though, is an entirely different case, but tonight it'll be Pebble's problem. He will probably be moping 'til dawn after closure.
Rolling his shoulders to try and dislodge the tension inhabiting them, Omega inadvertently glances the man's way. He is still in the same position, leaned back so everything up his waist melts with the shadows, legs clad in airtight black jeans widely parted, too much skin put on display by the many rips and holes in the tired fabric. His rundown boots are fastened up the middle of his shins, their heavy soles firmly planted on the ground. Body angled so he can see the counter at all time. Now Omega's the one staring, gritting his teeth in frustration, eyes squinted in the hope of catching a glimpse of the man's upper body, but no luck. The shitty neons bathing everything in sickly greenish light does nothing to unveil the stranger's face.
A hand slides up Omega's back, slipped between the leather of his jacket and the worn cotton of his band tee. Overly warm, so it can only be Alpha. Omega leans into it with a small groan.
"You could just go an' ask him what's his problem you know."
Glancing at the patrons still lingering despite the late hour, Omega shrugs and affectionately hipchecks Alpha, making the many chains and trinkets dangling from his belt jingle lighty. It's a wonder the weight of them all never pulled Alpha's pants down his ankles.
"If he's still there when we're about to close, maybe. We don't need to make a scene. Aero will have my ass if I make him punch one more troublemaker tonight. His knuckles are turning violet."
Alpha huffs, but doesn't disagree.
"He's a bouncer, that's literally his job, but alright. Be careful though. That guy staring ? Weird, even by this place's standard. Fritter said he kept his hood down even when he got him his drink. Someone who hides like that has skeletons in his closet for sure."
Omega chuckles, taking to act like the offending corner of the room doesn't exist. He's a big guy, only a few inches shorter than Earth and Aero, and twice as broad. If trouble arises he'll easily settle them with his fists. He doesn't have time to voice those thoughts to Alpha, though, because someone approaches the bar and he's off to get their order.
"Maybe he just wants to fuck you. Plenty of people do, and you're intimidating enough that he could just be waiting for you to make the first move."
"Satanas-" Omega grunts, honest-to-god jumping as Mist's voice arises from behind him. He bites down on his lower lip, the metal of the ring threaded through it clashing against his teeth. She shrugs at him, slitted eyebrow raising in an elegant arch. She's leaning against the "employees only" door, wiping her right hand in a rag with a woman flushed up to her ears plastered to her side, legs unsteady underneath her. Her fishnets are visibly ripped at the thighs. Omega pulls a face, sliding two free shots their ways.
"You better have cleaned up after yourself. And i'm not in the mood, so if that's it, he'll be greatly disapointed."
Mist hums, and for a fleeting moment, there's concern in the draw of her eyebrows, but now is not the time to say what she wants to say ; she is otherwise occupied. Shooting him a glance that says they will have this conversation later, she steers her pretty girl toward a nearby stool, taking the shots with her. Omega is glad, hearing that he is allowed to have fun for the thousand time would just piss him off. He knows he is allowed. He knows he could go home with a stranger, share a bit of warmth until the sun comes up again.
He just doesn't want to.
It wouldn't fill the gaping hole in his soul, nothing would. So why bother trying ? The jagged edges of what used to be love will always cut deep, and fucking the asshole who made it his night's mission to bother Omega won't change that. He absent-mindedly rubs the spot right above his heart, where the three black lines are inked. No, there is only one man who belongs in Omega's sheets, and that man's body is slowly decaying under the solid ground he used to tread on.
Time passes, nothing changes. The stranger stares, Omega pretends he doesn't notice. Up until the last patron is gone and Omega's patience finally yields. Throwing his rag at Ifrit - who catches it more with his face than his hands - the exasperated barman strides toward the corner he spent so much time pretending didn't exist.
"You got an issue ?"
Now he can see the man a little better ; from the black gloves to the faded tank top and sleeveless jacket, the man doesn't try to hide, but he angles his face down so the hand-sewn hood casts shadows on everything above his collarbones.
"None," the man answer, swirling what remains of his beer in the bottle, "or rather, none with you."
His voice is gravelly, strangely choked up, as if the words struggled to crawl up his throat. It sounds almost...unnatural, like the man shouldn't be speaking. It sends a shiver down Omega's spine despite being the one towering over the man, but at the same time, something in the recess of his mind nags at him, begging to hear that voice again. Curiosity, perhaps ? Omega crosses his arms, his thick rings catching the light. He no doubts looks intimidating as can be, but the man doesn't flinch.
"So you've been staring me down for the whole night for fun ?"
There's an edge to Omega's words that begs to be careful about the answer. He can't help it ; this situation is gratting on his nerves, as is the easy confidence of the stranger, who gestures toward a point above Omega's shoulder instead of answering him.
"I see you didn't take the stage down. It has been a while since the band hasn't played, hasn't it ?"
Omega's hackles raise. The too narrow stage cramed in the back of the room hasn't been touched, no, just like his and Alpha's guitars, Pebble's drums, Delta's bass, or the mic stand. Not since- not since the voice that carried the music they played every friday nights was silenced forever. Not since their frontman was murdered in the back alley, throat slashed open and left to bleed out on the wet pavement. Not since Omega held a body already growing cold in his desperate arms.
He twitches, jaw gritted so hard he might shatter a mollar or two. He is going to kill that man. One more provocation, and Pebble will mop blood off the floor, too. His hands ball into fists, but the stranger huffs.
"Do not get angry, Omega. I am not mocking you."
He flinches. Hard. Something, about the way his name was pronounced, has an achingly familiar echo to it that hits Omega like a knife to the guts. The man's voice changed ever so slightly to utter his name, tongue wrapping gently around the syllabes, an a dragged for just a beat too long. A forgotten interpretation, one that shouldn't come out of a stranger's mouth. Suddenly, Omega cannot breath. It's impossible, and yet his entire being screams a name written on a headstone.
"Do you have a light ?"
Mechanically, Omega takes his lighter out of his breast pocket, refusing to look at the initials carved on it as he sparks the wheel with numb fingers. He shakes when he brings the flame closer to the cigarette pinched between the man's lips.
The flickering light finally bathes the stranger's face in a warm glow, shadows chased away.
Omega falls to his knees.
The flame gives out, lighter hitting the floor, but it doesn't matter. He knows what he saw. The man pushes his hood off, no longer hidding, no longer making the truth deniable.
Omega is kneeling at the feet of Terzo Emeritus.
Changed, certainly, but hauntingly familiar still. His facepaint is messier, running down his face in some places, his hair more ruffled than he used to let it be, there is a glassy quality to his green eye. But the white one is as clear as ever, piercing in the semi darkness, pinning Omega into place despite the shudders racking through his body. But his face is the same, and Omega would know, because he spent so much time staring at it in his life he could draw it with his eyes closed.
Distantly, he hears the others calling out for him in concern, too far away to see what made Omega crumble, but he doesn't turn around, doesn't move, like the apparition before him could disappear if he took his eyes away from it. Terzo cocks his head to the side, puts his bottle down. There is steel in his expression, but his lips part around a gentle sigh, cigarette carelessly dropping from them. Omega's stomach churn as he catches sight of the thick, gnarly scar running through the man's throat, a mockery of a smile where there should never be one. The scratchy voice that he couldn't recognize, suddenly makes sense.
Before their friends can storm their little corner and shatterthe moment, something thaws in Terzo's eyes, and he grabs the back of Omega's neck, leaning in until their foreheads touch. A shaky rush of air leaves his lips just as Omega, too, exhales unsteadily. Terzo's skin is colder than he remembers it being, but not as much as the last time he held him. A sob is ripped out of Omega's throat, then another, and another, and before he knows it, he is full on bawling, hands flying to cling onto his lost lover's wrist, arm, waist, shoulder, anything he can reach. In answer, Terzo slides from his seat and drops to Omega's level, gathering him in his arms with a wounded noise.
"Oh, Omega, my Omega. It's alright. I'm here, I am here, right here. It's okay. It's okay, caro mio, it's okay."
Omega's heart is splitting in two, is exploding, is twisting itself in impossible shapes, trying to wrangle all the love and yearning and relief suddenly rushing through him. Curling on himself, making himself as small as possible so he can tuck his head under Terzo's chin, Omega babbles a string of pleas, half-formed questions and a name, always, always that name, the only one that matters, one belonging to the figure craddling him so gently.
The sound of rushed footsteps finally cuts through the whirlwind of Omega's mind, and he looks up just in time to see Alpha and Mist enter his line of sight, looking ready to swing. They freeze when Terzo tilts his head back, still holding Omega close. The others nearly run into them, startled by their abrupt pause. Terzo's lips curve upward.
"Hello, my darlings."
Mist makes a choking noise. Omega is pretty sure Ifrit is crying amongst the sounds of quiet gasping. Alpha seems to go through six hundred and sixty six emotions before, unsurprisingly, settling for anger. His wrapped hands turn into fists.
"You fucking asshole, what did you wait hours for ? Was it funny to just watch us...watch us go about in our misery ?!"
Once Omega will be able to string words into a coherent sentence, he'll tell Alpha off for this, but right now he is feeling way too much and his brain is absolute mush. All he can do is lean into Terzo's solid hold and let him handle the situation. At least the man doesn't seem bothered by Alpha's outburt, but then again, he handled so many of them in the past.
"I had to see what I was coming back to. If I was still welcome here, or if I had better leave you alone."
He reaches out to Alpha's fist, unclenches it finger by finger, like he used to whenever his lead guitarist was about to lash out. Alpha takes a sharp breath in, but his tongue fails him, and once his hand falls open, he let Terzo squeeze it gently.
"What-" Mist's voice uncharacteristically breaks, "what's your conclusion then ?"
Terzo's smile widdens, a touch of mischief tucked in the corner of his mouth.
"You are doing as well without me as a bunch of blind kitten."
A beat passes. Then a hysterical laughter bounces off the walls around them. Zephyr, leaning heavily on their cane, folds in two with the force of it.
"Blind- Did you just...come back from the dead to call us incompetent ?"
Terzo shrugs, looking far too pleased with himself. Alpha still looks like he wants to punch him, but it feels more like annoyance than unbridled fury now, so there's that.
"How ?" Omega finally manages to mumble, and the brief air of levity that fell on the room comes crashing down. Terzo frowns down at him, tenderly cups his face in his hands. Sorrow is etched on his face, but anger shows its colors, too. Not directed at Omega, no, but it is there, like a snake coiled up under a heavy rock, ready to spring if provocated.
"I was never one to go quietly. I suppose I simply refused to leave this life like that. To leave you like that. I'm afraid I have no satisfying answer, for now at least. I woke up in the morgue. Crawled out of there and hid until I recovered my strenghts. I wanted to come back earlier, but..."
Here, his face twists, uncomfortable. Everyone is eagerly listening, still reeling from the shock.
"...I didn't want any of you to see me so...diminished."
"We would've helped you," Aether whispers, devastated, "you know we would have."
Terzo smiles bitterly, smoothing out Omega's hair out of habit. The feeling of his fingers combing through dyed strands is so undeniably real, Omega nearly starts crying again.
"I know you would have, my dear ones. But I couldn't stand it. The sight of me. My ruined voice. For me, there will be a stage no more. I croak like an old raven, and I do not have the will to be charming anymore. I had to come to terms with that on my own."
In the silence that follows, they all gather around the entwinded lovers, sitting on the floor like they don't see the grime it's covered in. Alpha lightly knocks his forehead against Terzo's temple, mumbling something that sounds like a fond insult. The man only huffs in answer, before focusing back on Omega. There is so much love in that look, longing twisting both their heart, it almost hurts.
"I missed you. I missed you so much, oh, Terzo. I love you."
There are familiar hands on Omega's face, and they're pulling him closer, pulling him in, until he meets soft lips and the world around him falls away, reduced to only one thing. Terzo, Terzo, Terzo. His beloved, his very own Terzo.
"I have been waiting for this moment," the man in question whispers against his lips, "for longer than you can imagine. To see you again, to hold you again, my love, is a blessing from Satan himself."
Omega's smile is shaky but true, as he tucks a black strand of hair behind Terzo's ear. He waits for the other's gentle teasing, maybe one or two fake gagging sound, but nothing comes. All around him, soft smiles and teary eyes watch over the reunion of two souls meant to be woven together. A pair of arms wraps around the both of them, then another, and another, until they're all holding onto each other, like proximity has the power of mending the cracks in their hearts. Maybe it does.
"If not charming," Omega breathes in the stillness, "what do you wish to be now ?"
Some of the steel he noticed earlier comes back in Terzo's expression. He doesn't even hesitate.
"Vengeful."
Omega nods, pressing a kiss to the scar he thought took his lover away. So be it. There is someone, out there, who is responsible for all of this ; and when the time come, they will reap what they sowed.
And again, guys. Sorry for the delay! August has be craaaazy for me and continues to be! Still trying to figure out a name for the chapter. But alas, here we are announcing a new chapter coming your way Friday!
Thank you ALL again for deciding to follow the Ghosts Project and being patient with me! All your comments, messages, and likes only fuels me with passion!! You all are the best and I love you guys! <3
Ok now that I'm home for real (flying from California all the way back to the eastern US is a NIGHTMARE) here's some notes about Storm ghoul I sent @caesar-xx (very important. Must read.)
(I mostly had notes to say about Storm & Aurora bc I had a perfect view of them from the floor, it was hard for me to see Cirrus & Haze for most of the show 😭)
I. LOVE. STORM. GHOUL. SO MUCH.
HE REALLY TRULY DOES JUST STANCE UP LIKE THAT ANY TIME HE DOESNT HAVE TO BE UP TO PLAY OR SING
HE CROUCHED DOWN AND WAVED AT THE AUDIENCE AND DID LITTLE HEART HANDS & SHIT
HE DANCED WITH AURORA
AT ONE POINT SHE LEANED BACK AND HELD OUT HER HAND AND HE LEANED FORWARD AND HELD IT
HE LOVED TO MAKE SO MANY GESTURES ALONG TO THE SONGS LIKE HE IS JUST SO FULL OF ENERGY AND GETTING INTO IT
I SAW HIM LIKE, ""TALKING"" TO CIRRUS & HAZE FROM ACROSS THE STAGE I S2G (LIKE MAKING GESTURES & SHIT)
WHEN IT WAS TIME FOR PAPA TO RISE UP FROM THE STAGE W/ THE COWBELL AURORA AND HIM WERE STANDING WAITING AND AT ONE POINT HE LEANED FORWARD TO LOOK IN THE HOLE, AURORA & HIM TURNED TO LOOK AT EACH OTHER AND SHRUGGED IT WAS SOOOO CUTE
HE LOVES HIS DEVIL HORNS
HE DID KNOCK ON HIS HEAD TO THE BEAT OF THE COWBELL A FEW TIMES
HE DANCED WITH PHANTOM AT ONE POINT AND DID HIT HIS TAMBOURINE ON PHANTOMS BACK A FEW TIMES
Stop using Per Eriksson's nickname in fanfic and fanart for the love of... He thinks you are talking about him! When you say "Sodo" to him, he does not think of Ghost! What is it going to take for y'all to respect one simple boundary?
You are not cosplaying as Sodo, if it's a cosplay of the ghoul. You are not drawing fanart of Sodo, if it's art of the ghoul. You are not writing fanfiction about Sodo, if it's about the ghoul. Not when you're referring to the ghoul! Stop using it!
Sodo is a real person. The ghoul is a character. LEARN TO SEPARATE THE TWO.
If you're not talking about Per Eriksson, then don't use Sodo.
I should not see SHIP posts with y'all using SODO.
At the Cleveland ritual last night I told my friend “phantom reminds me so much of aether now”. When I got home I told my other friend what phantom was doing. Right before majesty he pointed at the crowd and got us to cheer, and be quiet, got certain section going and then shut everybody up. He used his guitar to start a beat and get mountain to play the beat with him and then he worked into majesty with the beat. Later that night my friend sent me a video of Aether doing the exact same thing, for the exact same song :(
Last night we got Prime Mover! And at the end of the song Papa had his hands cupped over his lower belly and then as the lights cut at the end of the song he kind of mimed pushing and catching a baby. Y'all. He is having the time of his LIFE up there!
