Nov 9, 2025
ghost Tommy moodboard
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ghost Tommy moodboard
I made these in very early February but I don’t wanna have to edit wilbur out so these guys are MY oc’s and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with em
Late night(morning?) phantommy doodle
Wheel of Fics : story 4 !
Since I have many ideas and projects and honestly struggle to push myself to write them, I decided to create a wheel that will decide which story to write for and see if it motivates my muse to write more I've been struggling to write since the break up and I'm trying to get back to it
Concept : trying to write at least 1500 words on one of the 40 ideas I put in my masterlist
Here is story 4 :
You can find the original idea here
And a new moodboard of course !
Eat your heart out, Casper !
Tommy is floating in the middle of his living room when the door to the house opens.
In the years he’s been here, the door had opened only a handful of times.
The first time was when his cousin came in to get clothes from his wardrobe. Tommy thought it would be to dress his body for the funeral, but he watched his cousin pack regular clothes, hoodies, and shorts like he was packing for a weekend away for Tommy.
“Been waiting for me to die so you could raid my closet, uh, Donny?” he muttered next to his cousin and watched the man shiver like the words touched him.
The second time was, well, Tommy doesn’t know how much later. Time is a weird thing when you’re a ghost, but it happened after his lawn got overgrown, that he knows. His fucking perfect lawn, which was now probably beyond salvageable unless with a flamethrower.
Whatever.
He’s dead anyway.
The second time the door opened, it was three kids from the neighborhood. They had a beer pack and stayed long enough to finish the six cans, and they even took them back with them. Tommy was grateful. An overgrown lawn was one thing, but his living room becoming an illegal trash dumping site? Not. On. His. Watch!
The third and fourth time, it was the same group of kids. They drank and had fun. But when one of them tried to light up a cigarette on their fourth visit, Tommy used whatever energy his death gave him to yank the cigarette outside of the teenager’s mouth.
They left screaming.
“Youth,” said Tommy, shaking his head before tossing the cigarette aside.
It took him two hours to move the cans they abandoned in their rush outside toward his now rotting garbage bin. And afterward he couldn’t even appear for what he counted at three moons, also he’s pretty sure one night had no moons, so it might have been four full days.
Afterward he started to train, making things float around so he could deal with anyone coming again and trying to trash his house and not end up as a tired ghost from the smallest effort.
And now is the fifth time the door opens and the man who enters is new.
Not family, not neighbor.
A third, and for now, secret thing.
He watches the man close the door behind him, a bag on his hips. He’s looking around the space as he walks toward the living room where Tommy is floating. The man's eyes find him and squint slightly. Tommy stops breathing, or the closest thing to breathing a ghost can do, staying immobile before the man's gaze move on to another corner of the room.
He looks a second time around the space and this time his gaze doesn’t even land on Tommy, which he finds even more suspicious.
Can this man see him? He wonders.
The man stands in the middle of his living room now when he finally speaks, “I’m here to free you!’, he says, and Tommy’s eyebrows raise, “I know you’re here, I can sense you. It’s ok if you don’t want to show yourself, I’m just here to help.”
In all the years Tommy spent in that house, no one ever saw him. He never showed himself, but none of the visitors even hinted that they could sense him, let alone see him.
But this man?
He can pretend that he doesn’t see Tommy, but he’s pretty sure he actually can. Tommy lowers himself to stand in front of the man and watches him open his bag to pull a book from it and a plastic bag. The book happens to be a bible and Tommy scoffs at its sight. Did that person think he was a demon?
The man opens the bag and pulls a salt box and starts making a circle around himself with the salt, before pulling three candles from it and sits on the floor where he lits the three candles in a triangle around him. To play with the man, Tommy bends over to blow on the candle, but his breath doesn’t affect the flame, and when he tries to put his fingers on it to extinguish the candle, his hand stops a few inches from it, blocked.
He looks at the man and he swears for half a second he sees a smirk on his lips before it disappears. The man pulls a rosary from his bag and finally opens his book on a marked page and starts reading while his fingers play with the beads.
In movies or TV shows, Tommy remembers that during exorcisms the lights flickered and some wind always magically appeared.
None of that happens.
He watches the man read for a full minute, in Latin first and then in English, the translated version Tommy guesses. The man raises his head and frowns, looking right at Tommy.
“I knew you could see me,” says Tommy with a smirk, which gets a deeper frown from the man who looks back to his book and starts to read again.
Tommy decides to play then, channeling all the drama he enjoyed in his favorite romcons, he raises his arms and starts shouting.
“No! Please! I want to stay!”
He hears the man’s voice raise. That little shit, he thinks, before turning the drama up even more. He starts to move his arms, balancing them like he was at a concert, and starts to spin on himself. Slowly at first, before speeding up like he did when he was a kid and pretended to be a helicopter like in his dad's army themed shows. And he focuses.
The man who entered his house was somebody who could see him, who knew of ghosts and apparently how to get rid of them.
Somebody like that could be useful.
So Tommy focuses and focuses, pulling his powers around him. He could make things fly, and make himself float and he could appear or disappear to people, at least regular people. He knows he has some kind of magic inside him. His power rises inside him, the pull in his stomach almost overwhelming, and as he spins, he visualizes a cloak around him. A fabric that would cover him and let him be invisible even in front of somebody who could see him, even when he didn’t try to be visible.
The pull in his stomach becomes painful. He almost trips over his own feet, and then he feels his ears pop, like he was on a plane. And the world around him is suddenly covered in gray, like a filter just appeared on his retina. He finally stops spinning, and he’s glad that apparently becoming a ghost prevents him from being dizzy.
He just stands in front of the man who looks around the room, his eyes not even stopping half a second more on Tommy, who’s still here. He raises his hands in front of himself, curious to see if he’d be invisible even to himself, but he can still see his hands or his body when he looks down. But the man can’t.
Tommy smirks and watches the man blow off the candles and put them back in his back, he also watches him try to get some of the salt back into his salt box, and it’s probably just so he can reuse it but Tommy is still grateful that his floor wouldn’t stay covered in salt.
The man stands up and after looking around again and let a sigh escape; he walks toward the door, not realizing that Tommy is hot on his heels and when he opens the door, Tommy grabs his shoulder and focuses again.
When he died, which he has no memory of, he reappeared in his house. On his bed, actually, like he was waking up from a bad dream. Except when he stood up and walked toward the door of his room, his hand couldn’t close around the knob and his body went through it when he tried to push it open. He went down and realized that he could touch absolutely nothing. Only himself, which probably because his hands and body were made of the same ghost fabric that he was apparently now made of.
He tried to leave the house then, tried to see if maybe he could learn what happened. But every time he went through his front-door his body would reappear on his bed. Every. Single. Time.
And each time he swore he could feel something on his feet, something tying him up to the place, tying him to his house.
That’s what he focuses on now, on the shackle he can feel tying him to the place. He pulls on it, as much as he can, and maybe if he just wanted to simply tear it off, it would be more difficult, maybe impossible, but that’s not what he wants. No. He wants to change his “reset” point, his anchor, and he wants to tie it to that man. That exorcist who thought he was doing good by coming into Tommy’s house to expel him from it!
His ears pop again and he stumbles, almost knocking into the man, but he barely avoids it. Still, the man turns around and rubs his shoulder where Tommy touched him. He stops moving while he watches the man squints around before scoffing and leaving the house.
And Tommy follows.
And wants to cry almost immediately when he sees the state of his front lawn directly on not just through his windows.
But he doesn’t have time to lament too much, the man is walking quickly toward a jeep parked out front and pulls a phone from his pocket.
He taps on it a few times. Tommy isn’t sure when he died. Just like he doesn’t remember how, the time since then is just a long string of days and nights that he stopped counting pretty early on, but he can recognize the brand of the phone. He does see that it seems different from the one he had, less curved and more angles, so a couple of generations, of years, probably happened between his death and now. He tries to see the date on the phone, but the man pulls it to his ear before he could.
“Hey Bobby, just finished the job,” he says.
The speaker is too low for Tommy to hear anything back.
“Yeah, the kid was right. It was the owner’s ghost.”
“It’s gone now. It resisted a bit, but I just read the exorcism a second time and it worked.”
“Yeah, I’m on my way. Lasagna?”
“Ok, see ya,” he says before hanging up and putting his phone back in his pocket.
He watches the man jump in his car and turn it on. He looks back at his house while the car starts driving away. For a few seconds he looks at the way his lawn is overrun, how the cracks in the paint on the front of the house grew. It was supposed to be his next big project, redoing all the outside paint.
Before he could look for more things that deteriorated since his death, his body is transported in the car. He smiles at the proof that transferring his anchor to earth or reality or whatever you want to call the living world worked.
The trip isn’t very long and soon the car parks in front of a fire-station, a fire-station he recognizes.
He man parks there and grab his bag from the passenger seat, which Tommy hasn’t realize he was “sitting” on and he sees and feels the man’s arm go through him to grab his bag and leave the car without reacting to Tommy’s presence.
Once inside, they’re welcomed by Howie Han, and Tommy feels a hysterical laugh raise in his throat and let it out.
He tried for years to come back here, to see if he could come here and at least discover what happened to him, and maybe finally “go into the light” or whatever people thought what death was about, and finally, after he doesn’t know how long, but not as long as he feared if Howie is still here and doesn’t appear too much changed, he’s finally back. Thanks to a wannabe exorcist who failed.
“Hey Buck, back from your secret task for Bobby?” asks Howie.
“Yeah, it was quick. Gonna put some food together before the shift starts,” answers “Buck.
Tommy follows Buck on the top floor, where he sees new faces and a new layout. He’s glad that it seems that Gerrard is gone. He would never have allowed all these modifications if he was still here. Tommy looks around while Buck is moving around the kitchen area, testing how far he can walk from him before being pulled back. As it is, he can go 50 feet before reappearing near the man. When he reappears, he sees the start of a tomato sauce, and he remembers the one his grandmother taught him all these years ago.
“You should add more oregano,” says Tommy, finally willing himself to appear to the man.
Buck shrieks.
I saw a Twitter post saying they during the prison arc, c!Tommy's ghost was seen by glatt crying nonstop and saying that dream killed him
There's a Ghost Haunting These Woods: Tommy is dead and Technoblade is in denial
Prompt 6: Cold
~Help Me Choose P2~ Short Animation was chosen by the public so that's what I'll do! Yet I do have a lot of WIPs stored on my devices... Which one first?(based on file name)
G e g g
Got you!
Poker Face
No I Saved You
Ha
Show Them
I'ts Just a Dream
Run lil boy ani
You Forget Where You Stand ani
Have We Gone Wrong
Hints in Tags
Happy Halloween!