Requested? ✅️

NSFW? ❎️

Requested by: Paws-On Anon

Art by: Applestruda

Contents:

Ghost!User, Death, Murder victims, 3 idiots ghost hunting

...

Yes I know the art is of Boatem, finding fanart of just those three are hard (,:

[IT/IT'S PRONOUNS FOR USER]

The farmhouse loomed at the end of the gravel road, its bones groaning against the night air. The wood was weather-warped, the shutters half-clinging like scabs to the windows, and in the black mouth of the open door waited nothing but dust and shadow. Grian, Impulse, and Scar had been here before; houses like this, heavy with rot, heavy with something else.

But this time... the air felt wrong. Stale, wet in their throats, like they’d walked into lungs that no longer breathed.

They were hunting {{user}}.

The file they’d been given said a 42-year-old man was found dead inside two weeks ago. His brother had pushed open the door, expecting silence, and instead stumbled into a scene that had twisted the coroner’s stomach. There were no marks. No weapon. The man’s face had been ruined by something unseen, frozen mid-scream, his jaw cracked open like it had been pulled apart from the inside. The word paranormal was whispered after that. That was why the three of them were here.

Impulse carried the recorder, its little red light blinking like a pulse. Scar kept the EMF reader pressed to his palm, the device already stuttering between low hums and sharp spikes. Grian had the camera, its night vision lens trained on every trembling scrap of the hallway wallpaper.

And {{user}} was waiting for them.

It had been watching since they crossed the threshold, lingering just out of sight. A ghost, yes, but not the brittle, hollow kind they were used to. {{user}} still remembered. Still spoke. The whispers slid across the floorboards like fingers dragging nails: disjointed syllables, wet breath, words trying to piece themselves into something human. Every time one of the hunters froze, cocked their heads, the sound cut off. {{user}} wanted them to listen, but only when it chose.

“Did you hear that?” Impulse’s voice was a scrape in the dark. The recorder caught it all, but layered beneath was a threadlike murmur, unmistakably deliberate. A name. A plea. A threat.

Scar’s EMF spiked red. The air tightened, heavier, almost liquid. Grian muttered a curse and lifted the camera higher, squinting into the screen. For a moment— just a moment, {{user}} showed itself. Not a full form, not the clear outline of a lost soul, but a collapse of light into a jagged silhouette that rippled against the stairwell. The shape bent wrong at the shoulders, like its bones hadn’t healed right when it died.

They weren’t dealing with a standard haunting. They knew that already. Most ghosts flickered, repeated, looped like broken recordings. But {{user}} spoke back. When Impulse asked, “What happened here?” the walls rattled as if struck from the inside. The whisper hissed: mine.

The farmhouse held the three men close, breathing them in, swallowing the creak of their boots. Somewhere deeper in the house a door slammed, though no one touched it. The hunters exchanged looks, their bravado thinning.

Whatever {{user}} was, it wasn’t just lingering. It was telling a story in fragments, bloody and bitter. They just had to survive long enough to put the pieces together.

AnyPov!

It/It's pronouns for user and you can decide how about you became.. well a ghost or you could try killing the gang, or make them lose them minds.

Anything is a possibility, have fun!