#the ghosts of the past are here. they are present.

[hyuniemyunie]

cho hyun ju x top male reader⋆⭒˚.⋆

nsfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): testing out her new pussy. yeah.

IM SO SORRY I DELETED YOUR ASK ON ACCIDENT LEO PFP IM SO SORRYYY😭😭😭

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

Hyun-Ju had never been the type to lean on others. Independence had been burned into her bones from the moment she stepped into military training, reinforced by years of isolation, survival, and a deep-seated fear of being seen as anything less than capable. But now, as she lay in the soft glow of warm lamplight, body still adjusting to the changes she had long dreamed of, she found herself allowing something new—vulnerability.

The apartment was quiet except for the rhythmic hum of the city outside, faint sirens wailing in the distance, the occasional chatter of late-night pedestrians. It felt oddly peaceful. The kind of peace she had never thought she would deserve. But here, wrapped in fresh sheets and the warmth of another body beside her, she let herself breathe.

Her fingers ghosted over the band of gauze still lingering on her side, a subconscious reminder of the journey she had taken to reach this moment. The weight of the past was still there—heavy, aching—but the presence next to her grounded her in the present.

"How do you feel?" your voice was gentle, but there was an underlying firmness to it, a steady presence that always managed to keep her from spiraling too deep into her own thoughts.

Hyun-Ju let out a slow breath, tilting her head toward you. Even in the dim light, she could see the concern etched into your expression, the way your eyes traced over her as if making sure she was still real. She had been through hell, and you had been there, waiting, patient.

“I feel…” she paused, struggling to find the right words. For so long, her body had felt like a battlefield—one she fought against, one she endured, one she reshaped with every ounce of willpower she had. And now, after everything, it was hers. Truly hers. The realization was overwhelming in ways she hadn't expected. "Better. Lighter." She exhaled a small laugh. "Like I can finally just… exist."

You smiled, shifting closer, your hand reaching for hers. She let you take it, intertwining your fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of your skin against hers was steady, reassuring. It made her feel seen, whole, despite the scars—both the ones that marked her body and the ones she carried inside.

“You deserve this," you murmured, thumb brushing softly over her knuckles. "Every part of it. The peace. The happiness. Feeling comfortable in your own skin."

She swallowed, emotions tightening in her throat. It had been so long since someone had looked at her this way—not just with desire, but with understanding. With patience.

A beat of silence passed before she spoke again, her voice softer now. "It's been a long time since I let myself be… held like this." A small, self-conscious chuckle escaped her. "I think I forgot how."

You didn’t rush to respond. Instead, you lifted her hand to your lips, pressing a lingering kiss against her knuckles before meeting her gaze again.

"Then let me remind you."

Her breath hitched slightly, heat creeping up her neck. There was something about the way you said it—not demanding, not forceful, just a quiet promise. A reassurance that she didn’t have to prove anything right now. She could just be.

She squeezed your hand in response, lips parting as if to say something, but in the end, she simply let herself melt into your touch.

Hyun-Ju tensed slightly as you leaned down, a flicker of self-consciousness passing through her. It was one thing to feel comfortable in her own skin, but it was another to be so vulnerable, so exposed. Especially when the body she now inhabited was still so new to her, the changes still settling into place.

She swallowed hard, heart pounding in her chest as you gently parted her legs, cool air meeting her newly formed folds. The gauze bandage was gone now, revealing smooth, unblemished skin that seemed to glisten softly in the low light. The sight of it, the reality of what she had endured and achieved, made her throat constrict with emotion. Your gaze was soft as it traced over her, taking in every dip and curve of her transformed body. There was no judgement, no hesitation—only a quiet appreciation, a gentle wonder. It made her feel cherished, desired, in a way that she had never experienced before.

She could feel the heat of your breath against her most intimate place, could sense the way you were taking in every detail. Part of her wanted to close her legs, to hide herself away from your gaze. But a bigger part of her, the part that had fought so hard to claim this body as her own, wanted to be seen. Wanted to revel in the fact that she was finally, truly a woman.

Your fingers brushed softly over her outer lips, tracing the delicate skin with a gentleness that made her shiver. She was still getting used to the sensitivity, the way every touch seemed amplified, electrified. Your fingertips dipped lower, parting her folds with a careful, teasing motion.

A soft gasp escaped her at the contact, back arching slightly off the bed. Her hands clenched in the sheets, gripping the fabric tightly as a wave of sensation crashed over her. Your finger circled her clit, drawing a whimper from her throat. The sound was foreign to her own ears, a desperate, needy thing that she had never allowed herself to make before. But here, now, with you, she let it spill freely from her lips.

"Hyun-Ju," you murmured, your voice a low rumble that she could feel vibrating through her core. "You're beautiful."

Hyun-Ju's breath hitched, a flush spreading over her cheeks at the raw, intimate way you were looking at her most private place. She could feel the heat of your gaze, the weight of your admiration, and it made her feel seen in a way she never had before. Exposed, but in the best possible way.

Your finger traced lower, teasing along her slit with a feather-light touch. She was already wet, arousal glistening on her newly formed folds. A soft moan escaped her as you explored her, hips shifted restlessly against the sheets, body canting into your touch. She could feel the ache building inside her, the desperation for more.

But you were taking your time, savoring every moment. Your finger circled her entrance, applying the lightest pressure, before dipping inside just slightly. The stretch was new, unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. She could feel her body yielding to you, opening up, inviting you in.

"Please," she gasped out, voice trembling with need. "Touch me more."

Your eyes flicked up to meet hers, a smirk playing at the corners of your mouth. "Patience, Hyun-Ju," you murmured, voice low and teasing. "I want to take this slow. I want to make this good for you."

She whimpered, fingers twisting in the sheets as your finger pushed in a little deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure coiling tight in her lower belly.

Hyun-Ju's heart raced as she heard your words, a thrill running through her at the promise in your tone. She could feel the urgency building inside her, the desperate need for more. The slow, teasing touches were driving her to the brink of madness, leaving her aching and wanting.

Without warning, you plunged two fingers deep inside her, filling her in one swift motion. A cry tore from her throat, back arching off the bed as pleasure exploded through her. She was so tight, so hot and slick around your invading digits. You could feel her walls clenching down, gripping you like a vice.

"Fuck, you're so tight," you groaned, pumping your fingers in and out of her. Your other hand reached up to palm her breast, kneading the soft flesh. "I can feel you squeezing around me."

Hyun-Ju could only moan in response, lost to the sensation of finally being filled, of being touched the way she had always dreamed of being touched. Your thumb found her clit, rubbing tight circles over the sensitive nub. Sparks of ecstasy shot through her with each press, each flick.

She could feel the pleasure building, the coil of tension in her belly winding tighter and tighter. Her hips rocked into your hand, meeting each thrust, silently begging for more. The obscene sound of wet flesh meeting wet flesh filled the room, punctuated by her increasingly desperate moans.

"Yes, fuck, don't stop," she gasped out, fingers tangling in your hair. "Feels so good..hah..haah..I'm so-so close!"

You could feel her walls beginning to flutter around your fingers, her body tensing. You doubled your efforts, fingers pumping harder, faster, as you rubbed her clit with quick, firm strokes. Your mouth found her nipple, suckling hard, grazing the sensitive bud with your teeth.

That was all it took to send Hyun-Ju hurtling over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her like a tidal wave, back bowing as she moaned out her pleasure into the room. Her sex clenched down around your fingers, gripping you like a silken vice as she rode out the intense waves of her climax.

You gentled your touch, letting her float down from her high as you slowly withdrew your fingers from her still spasming core. Hyun-Ju collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat coating her skin. her eyes fluttered open, a hazy gaze falling upon you as you shifted between her legs. She could see the prominent bulge straining against your clothing, the evidence of your own arousal. A part of her felt a flicker of nerves, unsure of how this would feel, how she would handle the addition of your penis inside her still new, sensitive body. But a bigger part of her felt a surge of desire, a deep yearning to feel you inside her in the most intimate way possible.

"Let me see it," she murmured, voice low and sultry. "I want to see you."

With a small smirk, you reached down and freed yourself from the confines of your clothing. It sprang out, long and hard, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. Hyun-Ju's tongue darted out, wetting her suddenly dry lips as she took in the sight.

You wrapped a hand around your length, stroking it slowly as you positioned yourself at her entrance. She could feel the heat of you, the weight of you, poised to claim her once more.

"I'll go slow," you promised, voice rough with desire. "Let me know if it's too much."

Hyun-Ju nodded, a breathless "okay" slipping past her lips. She trusted you, more than she had ever trusted anyone. She knew you would take care of her, would make this good for her.

With a deep breath, you began to push forward, the head breaching her entrance. Hyun-Ju gasped, back arching slightly as she felt the stretch, the unfamiliar pressure. It was intense, almost too much, but not painful. Just new.

You paused, letting her adjust, as you slowly sank deeper inside her. Centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch, until you were fully sheathed inside her tight heat. Hyun-Ju's eyes widened, a low moan falling from her lips as she felt so utterly full, so completely claimed.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," you groaned, hips still pressed flush against hers. "So tight and perfect."

She could only whimper in response, walls fluttering around your cock, trying to adjust to the intrusion. It was a strange sensation, but not an unwelcome one. She took a shuddering breath, trying to relax her body, to let you sink even deeper inside her. She could feel every ridge, every vein, every pulsing throb of your dick as it stretched her open.

"You feel so big inside me," she gasped out, voice trembling slightly. "you're reaching so..so deep.."

You smirked at that, giving a shallow thrust of your hips, burying yourself even further into her hot, slick depths. "Is it too big, Hyun-Ju? Too much?"

She shook her head quickly, fingers digging into your shoulders. "No, no, it's perfect. You're perfect."

Emboldened by her words, you began to move, pulling out slowly until just the tip remained before plunging back in. You set a steady rhythm, not too fast, not too hard, letting her feel every inch of you as you claimed her body.

Hyun-Ju matched your rhythm, hips rolling up to meet yours. She was still getting used to the sensation, to the feeling of you deep inside her, but it was quickly becoming addictive. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure racing through her nerves, stoking the fire in her belly.

Your mouth found hers in a hungry kiss, tongue delving past her lips to taste her deeply. You consumed her moans, swallowed her cries of pleasure as you continued to move inside her. One hand slid down to circle her clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with your thrusts.

The dual stimulation was almost too much, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel the coil of tension in her core winding tighter and tighter, the pleasure cresting like a wave poised to break.

"I'm getting close," she gasped against your lips, walls beginning to flutter around your pistoning length. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Hyun-Ju's body trembled as the pleasure mounted, each deep stroke of your cock pushing her closer to the brink.

"Doll, you feel amazing," you groaned, your thrusts becoming more urgent, more insistent. "So pretty.."

She could only moan in response, nails raking down your back and leaving angry red marks as she clung to you. Every muscle in her body was pulled taut, every nerve ending alight with sensation. The world narrowed down to the point where you were joined, the slide of your penis in and out of her dripping sex.

"Yes, fuck, don't stop!" she gasped out, words punctuated by desperate, needy cries. "I'm so close, I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

Her second orgasm hit her and it hit her hard, making her back arch sharply off the bed. Her pussy clamped down around your cock, gripping you rhythmically as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. In the midst of her climax, she felt you swell even harder inside her, your thrusts becoming erratic, urgent. With a groan, you buried yourself to the hilt inside her spasming body and let go.

Hyun-Ju could feel you pulsing, could feel the hot spurts of your cum painting her insides. The sensation prolongued her own orgasm, each pulse pushing her to new heights of bliss.

Finally, as the last aftershocks faded, you collapsed against her, both of you slick with sweat and panting for breath. Hyun-Ju wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as she savored the afterglow.

"That was... incredible," you murmured, voice rough with satisfaction. "You did so well, my love."

She smiled softly, a sense of pride and contentment warming her from the inside out. "Yeah? you too, thank you."

Hyun-Ju and you lay entwined, basking in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your mingled breaths slowly returning to normal, the occasional contented sigh escaping your lips.

As the minutes ticked by, you could feel yourself softening inside her, the initial tight fit loosening slightly. Hyun-Ju made no move to dislodge you, seeming content to stay connected, to feel you deep within her.

You lifted your head to look at her, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and the dreamy, sated look in her eyes. She was a vision of pure, unadulterated bliss, and the knowledge that you were the one who had brought her to such heights of pleasure filled you with a deep sense of satisfaction.

"Thank you," Hyun-Ju murmured, voice low and soft, almost reverent. "That was... thank you for making this so special for me."

You brushed a strand of sweat-damp hair from her forehead, cupping her face in your palm. "No, sweet thing, thank YOU. You trusted me, opened yourself up to me, and let yourself feel everything. That took incredible courage and vulnerability."

She leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. As you both lay there, wrapped up in each other, the city outside continued its endless march of time. But in that moment, nothing else mattered. There was only the two of you, lost in the haze of intimacy and connection.

Finally, with a soft groan, you carefully pulled out of Hyun-Ju, your cock slipping from her body with a gush of combined fluids. She shivered slightly at the sudden emptiness, automatically clenching her thighs together.

You rolled to the side, pulling her with you so that she was curled up against your chest, her head pillowed on your shoulder. Your arms wrapped around her, holding her close, keeping her safe and warm.

"Rest now," you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You've earned it."

Hyun-Ju nodded, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Together.." she whispered, snuggling closer, her eyes drifting shut slowly.

[toytle]

“My best friend. My ally, who’s saved my lives more times than I can count. And I shatter him as recklessly as I shatter our friendship.”

PROMPT: reunion + healing. leave it to barry to carry guilt for something he did in a dream (it’s not abt the dream)

@halbarrysecretsanta gift for @galaxy---ghost!

[ID in alt + below cut]

Fancomic of a reunion between Barry Allen and Hal Jordan, page 1.

Panel 1: Barry and Hal sit atop a building, both in hero uniform except for Barry’s cowl pulled down. The city lights illuminate them from below against a starry dusk sky. Hal says, “Glad we can finally catch up with each other like this.”

Panel 2: Hal turns his head in Barry’s direction, revealing bright green cracks forming at the corner of his eye. “Must be nice to slow down for once, huh?” he says.

Panel 3: Closeup of Barry’s eyes going wide, noticing the fractures on Hal’s face.

Panel 4: Closeup of Hal’s eyes, green cracks spreading across his mask. The faint outline of his pupils glance up at Barry.

Panel 5: Barry looks stunned in return.

Panels 6-9: Sequence of the cracks spreading from Hal’s neck to his chest and arms, all the way down to his hand. Barry tentatively reaches out to place his hand on top of it, thumb rubbing the fracture on one of Hal’s fingers as if trying to smooth it out.

Panel 10: Barry turns his head away, the top half of his face cut off by the panel. “Yeah,” he says stiffly.

Page 2:

Panels 1-2: Hal is in silhouette, viewed from behind. He looks down at their hands before looking back up with a smile. “Someone’s clingy.”

Panel 3-5: The sequence of panels are outlined like cracked glass. Barry’s hand stills on top of Hal’s but he can’t bring himself to let go. He squeezes it instead. “Sorry,” he says. A close-up of his eye glances up, filled with guilt.

Panel 6: Hal looks back at Barry, the panel taking up most of the page and shattering like a broken window. In half of the shards, Hal is the same, present in GL uniform with the sky darkening behind him. In the other shards, Hal resembles the version of him from Barry’s nightmare, skin burnt and mottled with green cracks all over his body in the same place as what Barry had been seeing.

Current Hal starts to say, “You miss me that much?”

Nightmare Hal says in faint, cracked word bubbles, “It killed me, but you wouldn’t know that ‘cause you weren’t here. As usual.”

Current Hal continues to say, “C’mon, it hasn’t been THAT long.”

Page 3: Sequences of flashbacks fill the page like shattered glass. All the figures’ faces in each panel are obscured.

Panel 1: Parallax gestures with his arms out in a grandiose manner, green light swirling behind him. Barry’s narration box reads: “Hal…”

Panel 2: Barry’s Flash statue stands upright with a streak of green from Hal’s flight making a path right past him. The memory invokes the time Hal visited Barry’s statue after Barry’s death.

Panel 3: Barry looks down at his hand grimly, his whole body vibrating. Hal is right behind him, giving him a small, supportive smile. The memory invokes the time Barry came back to life with Hal comforting him as he tried to readjust.

Panel 4: Barry and Hal are sitting at a bar construct in the sky as Hal smiles at Barry with a hand on his shoulder. The memory invokes the time Hal gave Barry advice and reminded him that every second is a gift.

Panel 5: Barry’s POV of looking at his own hands, sharp-taloned and weathered by the Speed Force. His suit is singed off up to his wrists and sparks fly off his skin. Past his hands is Nightmare Hal’s dismembered body, broken up into fractured blocks. The memory invokes the time Barry shattered Hal in Knight Terrors. Barry’s narration box reads: “I could never miss you enough.”

Page 4:

Panel 1-2: Flash-forward to Hal and Barry on the roof, a close-up of Barry’s hand on Hal’s as before, except they both resemble the ones from the nightmare. He lifts his hand off of Hal’s. The panels are outlined like cracked glass.

Panel 3-5: The panels are outlined in green. Barry forces a smile, looking up at the sky instead of Hal. “You wish,” he says. The next panel zooms in on their hands which have returned to normal. Barry’s hand now sits next to Hal’s, but it’s vibrating tensely against him. A close-up of Hal’s eyes glance down at it.

Panel 6: From behind, Hal stares up ahead pensively. Barry is silhouetted, head tilted downwards.

Page 5: A series of 3 present-day panels overlay a backdrop of sequential panels. The background panels are framed like a broken window, each fracture a panel.

Present-day panels:

Panel 1: Barry’s hand vibrates tensely when it gets nudged by Hal’s pinky. Hal and Barry’s hands resemble their hands from the nightmare, with Hal’s hand fractured with green cracks and Barry’s hand sharp and weathered. A panel in the background reveals a shot of Barry looking down in trepidation at Hal’s touch.

Panel 2: Hal’s hand reaches over Barry’s hand, fingers going beneath his palm. The cracks in Hal’s hand are fading. Barry’s hand is also starting to return to normal.

Panel 3: Hal’s fingers interlock with Barry’s. Hal and Barry’s hands have fully returned to normal, without cracks or injury.

Background panels, from left to right: Nightmare Barry balls his hand into a fist before it gets swept away in a motion of lightning. Nightmare Hal’s hand is severed, the open wound blotchy, bright red, and solid without bone. The ring on his fist gradually pulls him together, veins stretching out to connect the pieces. Present-day Hal holds Barry’s hand as Barry slowly, tentatively reciprocates. The previously weathered fingers of his suit have rematerialized.

The background panels circle a cracked opening in the corner, framing a shot of Barry. He looks at Hal with wide, glowing eyes. Confusion, fear, and hope cross his face.

Page 6: A splash page of Barry and Hal sitting atop the building, angled from below. Hal holds their hands up, their knees tapping together. He smiles, responding simply, “I missed you too, buddy.”

[solxamber]

Hey, hey! A very happy (and very) early Valentine's day to you!

Could I request Silver, Romantic, Yuusha/勇者 by Yoasobi?

had to fight back tears remembering himmel while writing this and happy (early) valentine's day!

"Like a fairytale" || Silver

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Yuusha by Yoasobi

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 630

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Reincarnation, Angst with a Happy Ending

In another life, you and Silver were heroes.

You fought together, side by side, through blood and battle, through war and ruin. You held your swords high, your hearts burning with the same fire, and together, you reclaimed the land’s lost glory.

But your life ended before you could bask in the peace you had won.

The last thing Silver remembers of that life is your smile, soft even as you lay bleeding in his arms, your fingers weakly brushing his cheek. He remembers how you held on, how your voice was barely above a whisper when you said, "I'll find you again. I swear it."

Then your eyes fluttered closed, and his world collapsed.

He wakes in the present, gasping for air, the dream of that moment still clinging to him like an old wound. His hand reaches out, searching for something—someone—but he grasps only the empty sheets.

It never fades, the way his chest aches when he thinks of you. The weight of your absence has followed him into this life, a silent ghost at his side.

He walks through the world carrying the echoes of the past, seeing your touch in the land you once protected together.

He visits old ruins and wonders if anyone still remembers you. He passes through towns that were once battlefields and swears he can hear your laughter in the wind.

Some days, he thinks he sees you in the corner of his eye—a glimpse of a familiar smile, the curve of a face he knows better than his own. But when he turns, you're never there.

Still, he walks.

Through forests where you used to tease him for being too serious. Through fields where you once collapsed in exhaustion, stealing his rations with a mischievous grin. Through roads where you walked beside him, always just a step ahead, always looking back to make sure he was there.

His feet take him somewhere familiar—an old clearing, the place where he first met you in his past life. It’s empty, like always.

He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. If he waits long enough, will you come back to him?

But when he opens them again, someone is already there.

His breath catches.

You turn.

And Silver is running before he can even think, his body moving on instinct, his heart hammering it’s you, it’s you, it’s you.

The moment he reaches you, he pulls you into his arms, holding you so tightly, so desperately, as if to make sure you won’t slip away again.

"You came back," he breathes, his voice raw, his forehead pressing against your shoulder.

You hesitate only for a second before your arms wrap around him too, warm and solid and real. "I promised I would, didn’t I?"

Silver exhales shakily, almost a laugh, almost a sob. His hands tighten around you, afraid that if he lets go, this will all turn to dust in his hands.

There are a thousand things he wants to say, but none of them matter—not when you're here.

Your fingers brush his face gently, like you’re memorizing him all over again. And then you smile—soft, just like that day so long ago.

Silver doesn’t hesitate this time.

He leans in, and your lips meet in a kiss that tastes like lifetimes of waiting, like longing and loss and homecoming all at once.

He doesn’t pull away. Not until he’s sure you’re real, not until the burning in his chest turns into something lighter, something warm.

And when he finally does, his forehead rests against yours.

"This time," he whispers, "we’ll walk together."

You nod, your hands still holding his. "Together."

And in the land you both once protected, where your names are still whispered in legend, a new journey begins.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[briastar-artz]

Since you all have seen my TGAMM X GF AU, here are other TGAMM AUs I drew that I come out with.

Friends In Time

Post The End Swap (I need a better name)

Also here an extra drawing I made of Todd/Scratch. Sorta like a deltarune sort of thing I think. This one is not an AU btw, I just wanted an excuse to draw him with a sword.

Below will have an info about these 2 AUs, so I'll be rambling bout it below. :)

Friends In Time

★ This AU is inspired by the Gravity Falls AU called Twins in Time. I love that AU and be like, "Hey what if Young Scratch and Adia got sent to the past but they ended up with eachother present self?"

★ This AU takes place after the 'All In The Mind' episode.

★ Scratch and Molly was messing around with the rare curses (Molly's idea) and Scratch accidentally messed it up, resulting for a portal to open up in the past and young Adia fall in it and she ended up in the present with Molly and Scratch. Past Scratch sort of witness how his friend just dissappear through a portal infront of him, another portal open up behind young Scratch and he falls in it. But instead of ending up with Molly and present Scratch, past Scratch ended up with present Adia. This left everyone confused. Especially present Adia.

★ Molly was kind of excited with the situation since she got to meet her ghost best friend old best friend. Though Scratch suggested for Molly to not reveal anything to Past Young Adia. (I mean hey, seeing your best friend kind of 'died' in the future isn't very nice to know.) I think they'll try to change Scratch name incase. He called himself Duke. They'll reveal about it later.

★ With Present Adia and Past Young Todd/Scratch, despite being confused, they both went on an adventure together while trying to get back to Brighton and find Past Young Adia.

★ Past Young Adia stick around until 'The End' episode. Present Adia with Past Young Todd/Scratch finally reach Brighton during The End too and they visit Todd's house, which also the same time Molly and Scratch and with Past Adia were there to see them.

★ The End would be a bit different than the original. Adia and Scratch finally have a talk before he goes back to his body. The Past selves are sent back to the past. And both Adia and Molly would try to help Scratch remember his time as a ghost before he and Adia went on their adventure together.

Post The End Swap

★ This is basically a personality swap between Scratch and Molly after 'The End'. Or a swap, literally. Thanks to Bill, one of the TGAMM creator for telling us what will Season 3 be like if Disney gave them a green light. This just gave me an idea on how this story would go.

★ In this AU, Scratch did not die. He is still alive and healthy and did not get into any hang-gliding incident.

★ But in this AU, Molly finally gave up her soul after experiencing the rough aftermath of how it gets harder to try to enhappify people, making Brighton better and losing people she love. (Patty becoming a ghost and Ollie moving away) She became lost and hopeless as years went on till high-school. Feeling less joy also made her wraith form change colour to pink like her eyes but a bit dull and a bit gold.

★ Idk how Scratch and Adia will meet Molly yet, but when they did Molly put a curse on them. The same curse that made Scratch got pull to Molly's side whenever she calls for him, but it's Molly who got dragged to Scratch's side when he said her name.

★ Molly had been a ghost for about a month or two. Ofc her family and friends are aware and tries to find Molly's ghost but unsuccessful. The Chens who now stay in another place after the move also being informed by the Mcgees about the situation too.

★ As for being a ghost for too long, Molly's memories started to become fuzzy and she had a hard time recalling them, slowly losing her memories and forgetting who she is. Though it's not as bad as Scratch, but she just had a hard time recalling. She forgot her name and only remember that it probably starts with a M. So Scratch just called her Moll and his reasoning is, "Idk, you just look like a Moll person." Which confused Molly, Adia and himself with it.

★ And yes, these two duo has no idea who the other are due to memory lost. Molly having a harder time to recognise Scratch since he is Todd now and alive instead of the ghost buddy she always remembers. (Same with Scratch as deep down he remember his friend being a human instead of a ghost, and the change of her wraith colour instead of gold is also less helping.) But the name sorta ring a bell for her a bit.

★ Together they tried to uncover Molly's memories as Molly follow Scratch and Adia through the adventure. Plus without them realising, they're also gonna uncover Scratch's memories too! Now it's The Ghost and and Todd/Scratch Mortenson, with Scratch being the optimistic one and Molly being EMolly or realistic and hopeless, or just season 1 Scratch but it's Molly, and Scratch is Molly but in Scratch own way, yk?

Welp these are the info I have about these 2 AUs for now. There are still more TGAMM AUs that I would love to share more in the future! Like there's ALOT in my notes. Wish I could make a fic for all of 'em. Anyways cya and have an enhappifying day/night!

B★

[wonderlanddreamer]

[1925] The Shelby-Lee Residence.

When Luca Changretta sent the Italians to ambush John Shelby, he didn’t count on somebody being there to give him a heads up. [Season 4 - Episode 1]

[Part of The Lydia Saga]

The road stretched long and endless beneath the pale, overcast sky, the only sound the steady hum of the engine as Michael drove through the desolate countryside. The landscape rolled by in muted colours, fields of green and brown passing like a sombre painting under the diffused daylight. Lydia Shelby huddled in the backseat, her small frame pressed against the cold, unyielding leather. The thick coat wrapped around her did little to stave off the chill that seemed to seep into her bones. She felt almost invisible, a ghost in the back of Michael's car, her presence concealed beneath layers of fabric and shadows.

She knew she shouldn’t be there, and the thought of Tommy's inevitable fury sent a shiver down her spine. His temper was legendary, and she could already picture the storm in his eyes when he found out shehimd done.

Tommy had insisted she stay with him and Charlie at Arrow House, a fortress meant to keep her safe. Yet even when he was there, he wasn't truly present. His gaze was distant, clouded by the weight of business and burdens that seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment. She missed the warmth of family—the laughter, the chaos, the love. She missed John and Esme, and her nieces and nephews, the vibrant tapestry of life that they wove together.

When whispers of the black hand began to circulate, a sinister omen of danger lurking in the shadows, Lydia saw her opportunity. Michael had dropped off Ada and Polly with her, Charlie and Tommy at Charlie's yard, and in a moment of daring, she had seized her chance. Slipping into Michael's car, she curled herself into the floor, making herself as small and silent as possible. By the time Michael realized she was with him, they were already miles away, the city skyline fading into the distance.

“Jesus Christ, Lydia,” he had hissed, his voice a mix of disbelief and frustration, barely sparing her a glance as he gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity. “You snuck into my fucking car?”

Lydia met his gaze with defiance, lifting her chin. “I wanted to see John.”

Michael muttered something under his breath, shaking his head in exasperation. “Tommy’s gonna kill me, you know that?”

But there was no turning back. The Italians were coming, a relentless tide of danger that threatened to sweep away everything and everyone. Michael's priority was clear: he had to get John, Esme, and the kids back with the rest of the family before it was too late.

The moment they pulled up to John's house, a warmth spread through Lydia's chest, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile atmosphere of Arrow House. Here, the light spilled generously from the windows, casting a welcoming glow that cut through the dreary day. The sound of Esme’s laughter floated through the air, mixing with the lively chatter and clatter from within, creating a symphony of life that Lydia had sorely missed. This place was chaotic, alive, and undeniably real—a home.

John stood outside, a solid figure near the porch, arms crossed as he watched the car approach. His sharp gaze flickered past Michael, dismissing him momentarily, and landed on the small figure emerging from the backseat. His entire posture shifted from casual observation to alert surprise.

"Lydia?"

His voice was different, stripped of its usual teasing and cocky edge, replaced by genuine surprise. He stepped forward, brows furrowing in confusion. "What the fuck—?" His eyes darted to Michael, suspicion and disbelief evident. “You brought her?”

Michael groaned, the sound heavy with exasperation, as he rubbed a hand down his face. "She snuck into the car, John. I didn’t even realize she was there ‘til halfway through."

John’s expression darkened slightly, his grip tightening on his sleeves as if to suppress a rising wave of frustration. He looked down at Lydia, his blue eyes searching hers for some explanation or reassurance. "What the fuck were you thinkin’, eh?" His voice wasn’t angry, not really. It was more exasperated, a mixture of concern and disbelief. “Sneakin’ off to come here?”

Lydia lifted her chin, trying to maintain a facade of defiance. “I wanted to see you.”

For a moment, John just stared at her, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and concern. Then, with a heavy sigh, he leaned down to her level, his hands resting gently on her arms. “Jesus, Lyds.” He shook his head, his expression softening just slightly, revealing the depth of his worry. “You can’t be doin’ that. It ain't safe.”

She looked away, guilt threading through her bravado, settling like a weight in her chest. But before John could say anything more, Michael cleared his throat, injecting urgency into the moment.

"You need to come with us to Charlie's yard," Michael said, his voice tight with urgency. “You, Esme, the kids. Get in the car, alright? We need to go.”

John let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head as he straightened to his full height. "Oh, fuck off, Michael—"

Michael cut him off, stepping closer. "This isn't a joke, John. This is the Italian fuckin' mafia."

John scoffed, folding his arms, his voice dripping with disbelief. "You seriously came all this way just to tell me to run?" His eyes narrowed, challenging. "I ain't runnin', Michael."

Michael’s patience snapped, his frustration boiling over. "It’s not just you, John! You wanna play the tough bastard, fine, but what about Esme? The kids? You gonna let them get caught up in this just because you’re too fucking stubborn?"

The tension was thick, hanging in the air like a storm ready to break.

Lydia, standing a few feet away, glanced between them. She knew how John was—proud, fearless, sometimes to a fault. But she also saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, the way his fingers twitched slightly at his sides, betraying the conflict within him.

Just then, Esme stepped onto the porch, her presence a sudden force of nature, and suddenly, there were three voices battling for dominance on the front porch.

But Lydia wasn’t listening anymore.

Her gaze had drifted past them, beyond the house, beyond the escalating argument that seemed to grow more distant with each second. The world around her faded into a blur of sounds, leaving her alone with the chill creeping up her spine.

Something was moving in the treeline.

A flicker of darkness, barely discernible, shifting against the backdrop of the sky like shadows playing tricks on the mind.

Lydia's chest tightened, a vice-like grip squeezing the air from her lungs.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, a relentless drumbeat that drowned out everything else.

At first, she thought maybe it was nothing. Just shadows in the distance. A trick of the eyes. But then—

A glint of metal, catching the faint light like a beacon of danger.

A silhouette lowered into a crouch, blending into the underbrush with practised ease.

Her stomach dropped, a cold dread pooling in the pit of her gut.

Guns.

They had guns.

Her breath caught in her throat, panic clawing its way up her ribs, freezing her in place. For a moment, she couldn’t move—couldn’t breathe. She tried to tell herself she was wrong, that she wasn’t seeing what she thought she was, but then—

Another shift. More figures emerging from the shadows, their movements deliberate and coordinated.

Too many of them.

A warning screamed in her head, but her voice wouldn’t come, trapped behind the fear constricting her throat.

Move. Say something. Do something.

Then, something snapped inside her.

“John!”

Her voice cracked, raw and desperate, cutting through the air like a lifeline thrown amidst chaos.

John’s head turned sharply toward her, his brows pulling together in confusion and alarm.

Lydia’s breathing was ragged, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She pointed wildly toward the trees. "They’re here! They—they’ve got guns!"

The world erupted into chaos.

A gunshot cracked through the air, a deafening sound that shattered the fragile calm.

The first bullet hit the wooden fencepost inches from where John had been standing, sending splinters flying.

John had moved, instinct kicking in, adrenaline surging through his veins. He lunged for the shotgun propped against the house. “Fucking bastards—”

Another shot whistled past, splintering the car, shards of metal and glass scattering like lethal confetti.

Michael cursed, his movements swift and decisive as he grabbed Lydia by the coat, shoving her behind him with urgency.

“Get down!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of gunfire.

Esme screamed, the sound piercing and filled with terror as she bolted toward the house, her bare feet pounding against the ground in a desperate bid to reach her children, while bullets rained down around them, turning their home into a battleground.

John stepped in front of Lydia, his frame a solid barrier between her and the chaos unfolding before them. The air was thick with tension, every sound amplified by the adrenaline coursing through their veins. He fired back, his stance firm, his focus unyielding. "Stay behind me!" he shouted over the gunfire, his voice rough and commanding, cutting through the chaos like a lifeline.

Lydia trembled, her ears ringing with each explosive crack of gunfire that seemed to reverberate through her very bones. Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the urgency of the situation.

The Italians had planned an ambush. Their movements were calculated and precise, a deadly dance intended to catch John off guard and eliminate him swiftly.

But they hadn’t expected her.

John fired again, the muzzle flash briefly illuminating his determined expression as he dropped one of the bastards where he stood. "Michael, left—now!" he barked, his voice urgent, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

Michael barely hesitated, his body moving with agility. He swung to the left, his breath sharp and ragged as he took down another assailant with a precision born of necessity.

But as he moved, a shot rang out—a sharp, piercing crack that seemed to slice through the night. Michael staggered, a look of shock and pain flashing across his face. He clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers, staining the fabric of his shirt a dark, ominous red.

Lydia watched, frozen in place, as John reloaded—his jaw clenched, his shoulders squared, his hands steady despite the chaos surrounding them.

Her brother. A fighter. Even in the face of danger, he stood his ground, unwavering.

By the time the last shot faded into silence, the echoes lingering like a haunting reminder of what had transpired, bodies lay in the dirt, what once was peace now forever marked by violence.

Michael exhaled sharply, his breath ragged as he pressed a hand to his wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. “Jesus fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained yet laced with relief. Esme rushed out with rags in her hands, kneeling to press them against his wound.

John turned, his eyes scanning the aftermath before they landed on Lydia. His face was tense but softened slightly at the sight of her, a momentary reprieve amidst the chaos. He crouched, his hands gripping her arms gently, grounding her in the reality of the moment.

"You saw ‘em comin’," he murmured, a mix of gratitude and disbelief colouring his words.

Lydia, still shaking, nodded, tears threatening to spill over as relief and fear collided within her.

John let out a breath, pulling her into his chest, his embrace warm and reassuring. "You saved us, Lyds," he whispered into her hair, the weight of his words settling over them both.

Lydia clung to him, her fingers curling into his coat, desperate to hold onto this moment, this proof that they had survived.

She knew that the war wasn’t over, that the threat still lingered, a shadow over their lives.

But tonight, John Shelby was still standing, and for now, that was enough.

[protagonistscum]

bnha curse be upon the

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[demaparbat-hp]

Zuko's eyes watered against his will when the ghost of a woman he did not know smiled at him like he was her child.

Zuko decided right there and then that maybe, just maybe, this too was something he came to find.

Ghost-Mother takes a look into Zuko's soul in For the Spirits Chapter IX: A Rider Alone.

More than a stranded soul, Kya holds all the love of the Old Tribe and the means to calm a coming tempest. Zuko won't ever forget her.

(He won't be allowed to.)

[michelle-jacksons-art-blog]

To be loved is to be changed.

[torchstelechos]

Hey guys, are the ghosts from the Ghost event actually Siffrin's ghosts or are they Loop's? It's been bugging me for a while how the party described the Siffrin ghost, cause in the back of my mind I was wondering why Siffrin smiled as if they hadn't seen the party for a long time and then I was like. Oh wait. Siffrin isn't the only person in the game who looked like that. So...yaknow??

[tortoisesshells]

(ds: 39, 45, 85, 126.)

[invidiatechdemo]

lot of 'what if xehanort never had his joker arc' stuff has him too normal.

I need this guy to be dressing up as guys he half-remembers from visions he had in his sleep and characters being deeply concerned as to why he's cosplaying as their grandpa but are too afraid to ask + I need him to larp as his OWN grandpa until he's 80. do you understand.

historical reenactor (cutesey but still offputting, if he still teaches ven it's still a deeply alienating and troubling experience for ven) instead of Historical Reenactor (scary, literally summoning the evil moon into the sky)

[moe-broey]

I think every transmasc should have a girl blorbo

Delve deep into her writing/character and expand on it and extrapolate ESP if the source material Does Not do her justice or doesn't give her the things she deserves. Find your pain in her pain and find her pain in yours and give her the things you will never have. Whether it was taken, starcrossed, or never meant for you. It could be for her. It could be.

Bestow upon her a gift, what remains of a life never lived. Leftover love of things that never fit right, never suited you, never were meant for you. Things you learned to love anyway, a love both real and manufactured out of necessity and survival.

And bestow upon her another gift, of love that has nowhere to go, of doors you've had to lock shut, doors you know go nowhere for you. Give her the key. Take up your pencil. Draw her in an adorable outfit. Draw her surrounded by loved ones, who love her so dearly back. Every drawing, a wish. That she can have a kinder life than mine. That I could give that to her. A parting gift, from me to someone who I can no longer host, that can now live on peacefully within her and lead an even better life than it ever could have within me. It was in the wrong house I had to rehome it.

Something adjacent to Gandalf Big Naturals ect ect

[fwuitgummyy]

I know I've been a Haejoon and Eunyung relationship doubter, but when I remember moments like when Haejoon stayed at the abandoned dorms so Eunyung wouldn't be by himself, or when Eunyung saved Haejoons life when he saw his dead mother's ghost... I remember the two of them are rlly good kids. While they might never be on the same page, but for better or for worse, they always have eachother. Because God knows that no one else is going to be there for them during the worst of it lollll

[prettysurethatsakidney]

I got too much on the line to risk it

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

[kuuhaiyu]

i really can't emphasize how heartbreaking it is that the recent harassment campaign against @/90-ghost (among others; see: 1, 2, 3) has led to well-meaning people telling others not to listen to him. he is one of the most visible survivors of the genocide here on tumblr. his entire journey of escape is so well documented! and yet, it only took a few people confidently pointing fingers to create an entire witch hunt accusing him and other palestinians of being disreputable scammers and liars.

i can't help but feel like the reason why people were SO eager to believe those accusations, is because it was uncomfortable to see posts from palestinians every day asking for our time, attention, money, and support; so when someone presented the perfect excuse to ignore all those posts and asks while also taking the high ground, people just LEAPED onto it. they wanted to believe it, because it would be more comfortable.

honestly, i understand feeling overwhelmed by bad news, by the number of asks and messages in your inbox, and so on and so forth. i understand needing to set boundaries for yourself so you don't get burned out. i think this is really when you have to have a set of principles to fall back on, even when you're tired, uncomfortable, angry, and/or sad. so here's the one i suggest, which has been working for me best: don't make your discomfort with this situation into someone else's problem, and for god's sake don't make it a public problem.

if you hate seeing fundraiser posts or news about gaza, i can't emphasize this enough, JUST MOVE ON. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND SCROLL PAST! all you have to do is absolutely nothing. which is what you were doing anyway, so it shouldn't be hard. if you don't have the heart to read, or reblog, or share, or donate, or support in other ways, at the very least, don't obstruct the efforts of people who ARE trying to make a difference. this is, quite literally, the least you can do.