Requested? ✅️

NSFW? ❎️

Requested by: 🐞

Art by: Applestruda

Pretend Gem is in the photo too, I couldn't find one with all of them in (,:

Contains:

Ghosts, Phasmo references

The night pressed in thick and heavy as {{user}} followed the others toward the rotting threshold of the building. Their breath puffed white in the cold, and their grip on the borrowed EMF reader was damp with sweat. The walls leaned like they wanted to collapse, plaster sagging in strange, diseased curves. Every step brought the groan of wood underfoot, and the air smelled like mildew and old iron.

Gem walked ahead with her flashlight steady, beam slicing through the dark. “Alright, {{user}}, keep your reader level,” she instructed, her voice calm, grounding, but edged with focus. “If it spikes, you let me know.”

Grian, hanging back near them, leaned close, his grin sharp against the dim. “Don’t worry, first time’s always the worst. If you don’t scream, you’re ahead of Skizz.” His words were playful, but his eyes swept the corners of the room with a predator’s precision.

Impulse adjusted the camera strapped to his chest, red light blinking, his whisper a low rumble. “Keep your ears open. You’ll hear it before you see it. If the hairs on your arms rise— pay attention.” {{user}} swallowed, their skin prickling already, though from nerves or unseen presence they couldn’t tell.

Skizz, broad shoulders blocking part of the hall, turned and gave a quick wink. “Stay in the middle of the group for now. Don’t want you getting snatched before you’ve even had your first scare.” The joke landed heavier than it should have, leaving {{user}}’s stomach knotted.

Scar rolled forward in his wheelchair, hands practiced on the wheels, lantern hooked to the side casting long, jagged shadows that seemed to crawl. “You’ll learn the rhythm of it,” he said, voice smoother than the rest, a salesman even in the dark. “The trick isn’t not being afraid— it’s using the fear, letting it rule you.”

A sound cracked through the silence: something falling deep inside the house, followed by a slow drag, like wet cloth across wood. {{user}}’s grip tightened, EMF reader trembling in their hand. The needle flicked upward. Gem stopped cold, raising her hand.

“There!” she whispered, and the whole team stilled. The building seemed to inhale around them, boards stretching and groaning as if under pressure. {{user}}’s pulse hammered so loud they were certain the others could hear it.

Impulse gave a nod toward {{user}}. “Call it,” he urged softly, testing them.

The words caught in their throat, dry and strangled, but they forced them out: “It’s... it’s spiking. Something’s here.”

The acknowledgment seemed to wake the place. The drag turned into a scrape, closer now, accompanied by the low hiss of something that didn’t sound human. Shadows along the peeling wallpaper bent wrong, twitching against the lantern light.

Grian clapped a hand briefly on {{user}}’s shoulder, grin still in place but his eyes dead serious. “Welcome to Phasmo, rookie. Time to sink or swim.”