#ghost!tommyinnit

[painless-innit-colourful]

o7 dream smp you crazy, weird, unsatisfying, wonderful, random, ridiculous piece of media/server. have a lovely last day darling it hasn't been perfect but I'm so glad we met

[ghostly-groves]

literally the situation rn

[guywithporcelainskullsforeyes]

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

[dotts-inkings]

My prompt from @sixteenth-day-event was Ghostbur and Tommy - shovel ! This was a lot of fun to work on, working on painting practice :]

[pepemoon]

Strip mining can be lonely and especially claustrophobic at times, but recently thats not the case. Cause Tommy got his, dare he say best, friends on his back.

[codgod]

a post-revival ctommy for old times sake

[ringnea]

Happy Wednesday! Today will have a redraw of an old piece with ghostinnit. Emduo got him some new discs as a gift.

[nomsfaultau]

The Lambs Wolves Wear part 9

Dark SBI AU where Philza’s human children were replaced by monsters. Start of ficlet is here.

For all that “Wilbur” was blatantly hostile and suspicious at times, Philza somehow got the impression that “Technoblade” trusted him the least of the monsters. They were never at ease, rigid like a soldier standing guard. At least more often than not they were farming, which meant Philza worried the least about them hurting Tommy. Still, at meal time he watched them closely as the ghosts fed their chosen vessel.

Tommy held no reservations, sitting by the skeletal husk of his brother and swinging his legs, piling on extra of the potatoes “Technoblade” had harvested. Finally it was easy to get Tommy to eat his vegetables. Really the sole benefit from his stint as a cow, even if Philza had the new hassle of convincing him not to eat grass. And Philza was certain he was the real Tommy, as the “Tommy” sitting next to him was curling his barbed tail around Philza’s ankle. Tommy poked the bony ribs of “Technoblade”, pestering until they bent for him to whisper in their ear. “Technoblade” scarcely reacted as Tommy snickered, but the red lights dancing in their eye sockets darted for Philza, locked upon him like a target. 

“Technoblade” was by far less impulsive than the other two, but that just meant what ever nightmare they inflicted was calculated. Philza could tell they were scheming for all that they rarely imbued Technoblade’s features with expression. But Philza offered the ghosts a cheery grin though he knew it would never be returned.

A cold shiver of a spectral claw tapped on his shoulder, and Philza canted his head. “Do you need something, mate?” “Technoblade” shook his head, and for some reason Tommy looked disappointed. “Well you did wonderful on these potatoes. You’re so hardworking, it’s very kind of you to help me out so much.” Sometimes praise would get Philza a slight smile, since unlike the real Technoblade the imposter didn’t become awkward about it. Yet for some reason “Technoblade” dropped their gaze, sweating slightly. Philza didn’t let his unease trickle into his smile. Usually they swallowed sycophancy well, what changed? 

He hid his confusion with a sip of his tea, only for his tongue to freeze mid-drink. Philza’s eyes flew open, frantically yanking to escape the searing cold only for a frozen block of tea to pull out of his cup. Philza couldn’t help his bewildered laugh, intertwining with Tommy’s cackles. He pried the frozen drink off and winced as ice shattered everywhere. 

The shards of tea flew back together, filling the cup that “Technoblade” caught with spectral hands. It floated back into Philza’s hands, who sat it down to avoid another prank. It was distinctly not in the vein of the stoic “Technoblade’s” humor, or the real Technoblade for that matter given he was far funnier than his counterpart. No, the simplistic practical joke reeked of Tommy, and he turned upon the boy with an eyebrow raised. “Tommy?” 

“Wasn’t me! I don’t have ghost powers!” 

“Sorry, sir,” “Technoblade” mumbled. “It wasn’t particularly noble, but I hadn’t-” Tommy elbowed the spirit vessel roughly and they went quiet, clearly uncomfortable. 

“You said hurting feelings is just as wrong as hurting small squishy human bodies,” “Tommy” announced with a nod as he parroted Philza’s own words. He looked at Philza expectantly for praise, and received a vague head pat. “And you said not to hurt Tommy, and he would be very sad if he wasn’t allowed to be annoying so we HAVE to do everything he says!” 

“Uhh…right,” “Technoblade” agreed dryly. “In our case, Tommy threatened to claim we hurt him and so we were forced to comply or risk being grounded. A fate worse than death.” And given they’d died countless times…hm. 

“Tommy!” Philza scolded. “You shouldn’t manipulate your brothers like that.” Philza hadn’t planned for Tommy somehow becoming the ringleader. That…might make this next part more difficult. 

He blanched. “I’m not Tommy, I’m “Tommy”! I’m innocent!” 

“No you aren’t. Nice try, but you’re grounded, mate.”

“Tommy” cheered. “WHOOO! He’s grounded! That means you’re going to grind him into mush with a mortar and pestle and bury him all over the place, right? TAKE THAT, WORM-FOOD! I’m the preferred Tommy!” He stuck out a forked tongue at Tommy. “He loves me more than you, he loves meee more than youuuuu~”

Philza paused. “I’m sorry, what exactly do you boys think grounding is?” 

“Tommy” scowled. “I know what it is! That’s how it worked in hell.” 

“Wilbur” wouldn’t look at him. “...if it were the Fae Queen, I’d guess it’d mean being trapped in an underground labyrinth for weeks alone. Or treated like the dirt she walks on, but that was always.” 

“That’s not what it means. If you’re grounded Philza despises you for eternity and you can never redeem yourself, cursed to forever roam the land without a chance to move on to the next life. It’s called grounding because he’s anchoring us to the mortal coil,” “Technoblade” posited confidently. “And also extra chores, probably.” 

…that would explain why they all reacted so horrifically. And while it was rather effective at protecting Tommy, he thought in the long run the monsters holding any fear towards him would prevent the underestimation he was relying on. “I…suspect your past experiences are warping your understanding. In this household, grounding means you are housebound for a few days and help with extra chores while we talk about how to act better in the future. I’m not- I’m not going to torture you, good god. I won’t hurt any of you.” He can’t, no matter how much he should want to. He hadn’t seen any of his real children in months; shouldn’t he want them slaughtered? Shouldn’t he hate them? But Philza only hated himself for the weakness. 

“Wait………grounding means we get to spend more time with you?” “Tommy” asked slowly. “And hurting Tommy means we’re grounded…?” 

Philza had just enough time to think oh no before “Tommy” turned into a lion and threw himself at Tommy. Though Philza barely held him back, that just meant a different monster got there first. “Technoblade” nearly punched Tommy in the face, but that turned out to be one of “Wilbur’s” illusions, who was going the emotion route by trying to show Tommy images of his brothers dying in really gruesome ways. Kicking “Tommy” back, Philza lunged across the dinning room table, scooping his boy up as fire began to spread through his house, spectral dead weaving between illusions as the three began to bicker about who got to hurt Tommy first. The dinning room chairs began to float up and hurl themselves violently at “Tommy” and immediately bursting into cinders. “Wilbur” egged them on further in a desperate bid to have his competition annihilate each other given how outclassed he was. 

Panic exploded in Philza’s chest as he realized how badly he’d messed up. He clutched Tommy to his chest, trying to protect him as best he could. Tommy, feeling awfully guilty about having threatened them not knowing their original interpretations of grounding, kept shouting apologies, having apparently not clocked that the brawl was about who got to murder him first.

“ENOUGH!” Philza screamed. “YOU’RE ALL GROUNDED!” A chorus of cheers broke out, the monsters ceasing the violence immediately. “All of you go to your rooms!” A round of protest, but he quashed it. Tommy stuck out his tongue as the monsters dragged their feet, and Philza sighed. “Tommy, you’re also grounded.” The boy protested. “No, you started this mess by manipulating them. You’re going to spend your time thinking about how to apologize.”

“But you already sent “Tommy” to our room!” 

“You’ll be by my side.” Philza stared flatly at their uproarious objections. “Grounding is a punishment tailored to the offense. I want all of you to think about how ripping each other to shreds in a race to see who can attack their brother first is completely unacceptable. At dinner I will bring supper to you and we will privately discuss the matter.” Somehow, it worked despite how clearly they all hated it. 

He waited till they were gone, then dragged Tommy out of the house, brushing objects with his iron ring to rule out illusions and tossing a handful of salt over his shoulder before he began to speak. “Listen to me,” Philza whispered as he cupped Tommy’s face. “What you did was immensely dangerous. You cannot be messing with them like that.” He knew much of it was his fault as well, but it was more important to stress the point to Tommy. 

Tommy’s brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t have bullied them like that if I knew that’s what they thought grounding was. That stuff sounded scary. Who did that to them? Are my new brothers okay?” 

“I-” Philza was blindsided at his concern for them. “I…don’t know. You have to be careful around them.” 

“So I don’t hurt their feelings?” 

“...exactly. When they’re frightened, or mad, they can cause accidents like the one you just saw.” And yet Tommy was enchanted by the show of lethal power, like they were fairy tale heroes. What spiked Philza’s terror only had the boy eager with excitement. He couldn’t see how Philza fought tooth and nail to eke out what little safety they had now. 

And that naïveté would get him killed if Philza didn’t act quickly enough. For a brief second he’d hoped- no. Didn’t matter. They’d all tried to slaughter Tommy just to spend more time with him. They’d proved his children would never be safe if they were around. Philza’s resolve hardened, quashing the part of him trying to protest. He had no other choice. 

Philza had to get rid of the monsters to protect his family.

Next>

[frog-lover69]

Made a painting that I wanted to make people reminded of Tommy exile arc and Ghostbur

AAAAAAA

[ghostly-groves]

tommyinnit -> grian evolution real

[legionofghostss]

Just imagine I've come up with a funny caption about them being twins

[marshmellowjay]

Bro am I the only one who sees a traumatized character and just wants reader to be their sweet ol' grandma/grandpa who loves them unconditionally 😭 like I can't be the only one thinking this.

Repost if you wanna

[ria-writes-stuff]

the blood you bleed (is just the blood you own)

Ghost hunting au! where Phil, Techno and Wilbur run a ghost hunting agency, Phil gets killed on a job and Techno has to prove his innocence against a first degree murder charge, while seeing the ghost of his best friend, dealing with his asshole of a lawyer who he beat up in college, and doing a deep dive into a sketchy company that has a little too much interest in the house where Phil died.

Featuring: Quackity is a fantastic lawyer and a little shit, Fundy is an unpaid intern, ExDee industries, ghost children, Lockwood and co ghost mechanics and a suspicious number of people called Dream.

“Phil… Phil was my friend as well. I don’t like you, but I know you well enough that’s there’s no way in Nether that you killed him." Techno swallowed, the sick feeling twisting further to the point of pain, “... fine. What do you need me to do?” “Keep your mouth shut and play nice with the judge. If you say anything about how corrupt the government is, I’m leaving the country and immigrating to Romania where I’m going to live in a trailer in the forest and sell plums for a living.” “That’s oddly specific.” “New rule, just don’t speak at all. It might help"

[sketchesfromghost]

Tommyinnit's Clinic for Supervillains fanart

[08/20/23]

[mrtechlab]

Come get y'alls food

I have cheese for the rats here. I'm writing more fanficiton!

Doing a professor Techno, ghost Tommy, and very young adult Tubbo (and Phil of course, it wouldn't be right to leave him out) with the obvious found family trope and a side of ghost shenanigans. The goal however is to make you cry smiling.

I've got three pages out already and this is the happiest I've been with my writing so far. I don't like picking parts out so just take like the whole first page:

(Skip past the big ol' paragraph if you want quick dialogue)

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The halls are chill and barely lit, a hollow echo of their usual life. Hundreds of students pass through them daily, bringing warmth and sound to cover the creaking of old floorboards and warped, rattling windows. Yet every night they leave, and the building descends into darkness. But there is no fear, only the comfort of holding a stuffed dog tattered more from love than age; it was ripped and repaired, held and thrown, old but never unfamiliar. The bones may settle and creak in the dark but their language is comfort. The sounds of Manberg University for History and the Arts are comfort to only a select few, but those few revere it. One’s out now, his footsteps muffled in the unevenly worn carpet. There’s no point to his walk besides the ritual of habit. Tonight the moonlight is soft and the breeze softer, the exhale of one more day. However this hall is dark and still, save for one set of windows. The drapes are undone from their usual quick, elegant knots and hang, heavy and tired. Like the walk, this too is a ritual. But unlike it, there is meaning behind the action. Light bathes the shallow niche, and a few hours from midnight would fill it exactly. A marble statue glows faintly, her eyes closed and smiling like a dreamer. She’s a companion when the nights get long, and the walker worries she becomes lonely too. There’s little cause for his concern; he wasn’t the one to open the curtains and let her feel the moonlight again. Every night the headmaster visits, a few hours before the man here now. He dusts, and fusses, and when the world is looking away he runs a calloused hand over her cold cheek, hoping for those few seconds it can again hold the warmth of life. And every night as he leaves the bronze plaque shines, never showing the many hands to pass over its carved lettering: Mrs. Trixtin, deeply loved and never forgotten. Never had any writing been truer.

The headmaster came hours ago and left the doors unlocked behind him. The hall may be closed, but the walker is always welcome.

“D’yah still think she would’ve liked me?” The boy speaks without an actual sound, no force to carry through an incorporeal throat. This is also a habit, the reassurance that someone he’s never met would have liked him, someone would have cared had they the time. 

“For the last time, Tom, yes.” The walker's voice, at least, breaks the quiet. “She would have liked you when you’re not being a nuisance during my classes. I still can’t speak on her love of pranks, but I like to think she wouldn’t encourage you.”

“That’s stupid, Mr. I-Know-Everything Blade. Just ‘cause you're both old doesn’t mean she hates pranks like you.” He huffs, something impressive considering the lack of air to move. “I’m Mrs. Trixten and I think Tommy should be given more people to influence for pranks” he sings in a high voice, throwing his head into and through the statue bust.

“I told you not to do that, Tom. Go have fun with the decorative armor stands, but not her.” He waves his hand through the air at Tom, more for the meaning of the motion than the hope of moving him. “It’s disrespectful.” He’d given up years ago on beating some respect into the kids head, and there was no else to see him or hear him use the wrong title anyway. It really was his fault for letting the students get away with Professor Blade, now Tom thought nicknames were fair game. At least only the headmaster knew he liked it, and even that was used as light blackmail. He really shouldn’t have done a demonstration for the week on Renaissance Duels.

“Maybe she’s still around here, and I just haven’t looked hard enough. It would be nice to have… someone else.” He gets what the kid means. They have each other, but it’s not the same. Tom wants someone dead, just like him. The kid had left the paralyzing confusion and fear behind, but having to exist without a single person that can feel the things you can is the worst kind of loneliness.

“I’m sorry, Tommy. I’ve been here so long, and even in the weeks after she was lost I saw nothing. I’ll admit I wasn’t looking very hard, I hadn’t known she could return until I met you. I’ll tell you immediately if I do, though.” 

“Thanks, Techno.” Tommy really meant it, there was no other time he’d use Techno’s real name. There was no better way to express the bond between a lost kid and the only person he could reach to, the only person who could ever help him. The cracks in Tommy’s brave face always appeared during these brief moments of vulnerability, and there was little either could do. So the living man and dead boy stood side by side watching the moon shift across the statue's features, each wondering how it felt to be loved so much.

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[manyminded]

agere hermit!tommy 💥💥💥💥 he has 28 parents and NONE OF THEM are Philza 💥💥💥