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iamsweden · 1 month ago

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WE GET POSSESSED? | Ghost Hunting with Friends! Pt. 1 Before the Hunt

Summary:

While filming what should be a routine “ghost hunting” urban exploration video with her friends, Tressa uncovers old secrets that should have stayed hidden.

A/N:

Celebrate Halloween with me by reading this obscure Octopath Ghost Hunting Youtuber parody AU?

This is really just a fun little thing I wanted to do, so I’ll posting chapters as soon as I finish them! That means minimal editing, so I apologize for any errors! I just want to get as much done as possible before Halloween hits tomorrow :)

I’m also cross-posting this fic on AO3 but without the extra formatting. Click HERE to read!

All chapters will be tagged with #ghosthuntingwfriends if you'd like to follow along!

Enjoy!

WE GET POSSESSED? | Ghost Hunting with Friends!

515,962 views | Oct 31, 2024

For this week’s treasure hunt, I take my friends on a Spooky Halloween Adventure to the HAUNTED Old Royal Academy in Atlasdam!

Featuring:

Ophilia (@AskSisterOphilia)

Cyrus (@historywithcyrus)

Therion & Alfyn (@GrabBagGames, @DontTalkToMe, @thatherbguy)

Primrose (@primroseazelhart)

Olberic

H’aanit & Linde

Follow me!

IG and X: @TressaColzione

Edited by Noa (@wyndyseagull)

Time Stamps:

0:00 - Before the hunt

3:30 - FIRST FLOOR

8:50 - SECOND FLOOR

19:51 - THIRD FLOOR

25:02 - HEADMASTER’S OFFICE

33:28 - TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES

38:02 - History Lesson Break

46:57 - THE H4TCH

48:36 - B4SEM3N+

66:66:66 - F4LL1NG IN+0 +H3 A8Y5S

1:19:58 - CALLING THE EXORCIST

1:24:20 - NVM WE’RE GOOD

1:36:21 - REFLECTION

—

BEFORE THE HUNT

Since diving headfirst into her steller youtube career, Tressa has learned several valuable lessons: avoid drama, thoroughly vet and research any potential sponsorships, create backups of all her files and videos, etc. You know, the stuff anyone in the business will tell you to watch out for. And even though Tressa hasn’t been on the scene very long, at least compared to some of her peers, she really feels as though she’s gotten the hang of this youtube vlogger thing.

So when she rolls up to the looming, imposing facade of the abandoned Old Royal Academy in northern Atlasdam, Tressa doesn’t have a worry in the world. Tonight is gonna go off without a hitch. Once all of her friends get here, she’s sure they’ll be having too much fun exploring the old place to get scared.

Tressa can’t think of anyone else she’d want to guest star in her next big video than these guys. Even if they all make different kinds of content (or no content at all, in Olberic and H’aanit’s cases), everyone is guaranteed to come out of this venture with a special video of their own.

Cyrus and Olberic are here first, of course. They live in Atlasdam for one, and Cyrus specifically helped her nab permission to shoot on the premises tonight. His set up is frighteningly simple and devastatingly slapstick: a cheap video camera and likely even cheaper clip-on microphone. Olberic holds the camera steady with the fortitude of a statue. Cyrus barely pauses his agonizing ramble about the history of the college to wave at her in greeting.

“...thereby earning itself the new descriptor ‘old’ in 1847. However, the Old Royal Academy’s doors would remain open for several years yet, producing such austere minds as esteemed poet and playwright Simeon Ventus and Atlasdam native Yvon Baudelaire, who earned the title of second president of the (new) Royal Academy in 1864. Shortly after his inauguration, his alma mater would mysteriously catch fire, destroying a large part of the northern part of campus and compromising the structural integrity of the building as a whole. Regrettably, the fire claimed the lives of forty-eight students, teachers, and staff. The school closed, never to open again. As you can clearly see behind me, however, the Atlasdam Historical Society restored the building with the intent of transforming it into a protected historical landmark. While repairs were completed in 1962, a series of logistical mishaps stagnated the effort, leading to the project’s abandonment in 1970.”

With his very interesting and not at all boring monologue finished (for now), Cyrus claps his hands and spins on his heel towards Tressa, donning a mighty grin. “And here is our intrepid adventurer now, come to lead us on a journey through this stunning piece of history! How have you been, my dear?”

“Good!” she says, dragging her last duffle bag out of the back of her car. She brought more than enough gadgets and gizmos for everyone to use tonight.

Tressa has REM pods. EVPs. A bunch of different radios. This weird little teddy bear that talks to ghosts and records spooky sounds. A deck of tarot cards–though they’re mostly for show instead of, like, actual use in studying the paranormal. If there are ghosts and ghouls and demons lurking in that old spooky place, Tressa will find them.

And if not, because, let’s be real, ghosts aren’t real, she’ll have a ton of stuff she can use to edit spooks and scares in post! Her editor Noa always knows how to turn a boring video into something wild and interesting.

While Cyrus paws through her gear, critically examining each piece of probable junk, Olberic hums. “And these… items are supposed to help you do what, exactly?” he asks.

Tressa counts on her fingers: “Pick up weird ghost noises, talk to ghosts, catch apparitions, detect temperature fluctuations–oh, and this thing senses movement!”

“Ghosts are said to manifest as fluctuating energy,” Cyrus explains, holding the Boo Buddy teddy bear out at length. He pokes at its button nose. Then Cyrus hands the bear to his husband, who gingerly accepts it. “Paranormal investigators use sensitive equipment to measure that energy. I read through the wikipedia article last night.”

“I see,” Olberic evenly says.

Yes, their first real skeptic of the night! Cyrus is going to take this investigation so seriously, but she’s really counting on Olberic to keep realistic expectations! It’ll create a nice narrative for the evening, especially when everyone else gets here.

And speaking of the rest of their friends–

Next pulls up a real rust bucket of a truck, the back of which is covered in faded bumper stickers. Most of the decals are meme-y stickers from their own store, but there’s more than a couple hippy environmental messages thrown into the mix. The second the truck clunks into park, Therion tears out of his seat, indignantly hissing, “We’re fucking over.”

“Huh?” Tressa asks right as Alfyn calls through the still open door, “He broke up with me because my swag is–”

Therion slams the door shut.

“I’m done,” he reiterates, daring anyone to challenge him.

Tressa rolls her eyes. They’ll be back together within the hour.

Or so she thinks, until Alfyn joins the group, proudly standing before them while looking like an absolute idiot. Tressa doesn’t know what’s more egregious, the hat that says Paranormal Investigator or the shirt that says, This is my Ghost Hunting Buddy! with a big arrow pointed to the left. Presumably the shirt is half of a matching set. If Therion didn’t set fire to his shirt, it probably got thrown out the window to rot in a ditch somewhere.

(At least that’s what he’ll likely tell them–Tressa wouldn’t be surprised if he’s wearing it right now, kept hidden by his stupid hoodie.)

Tressa reminds herself that she loves Alfyn and Therion and values their friendship. She really does. She really, really does.

“I’m gonna text Prim and see where they’re at,” Tressa mutters, abandoning Cyrus and Olberic to deal with whatever that is.

She quickly rounds the corner, using her phone as a light. The academy rises high into the sky, blocking out the moon from this side and bathing the street in stolid darkness. Dead leaves sweep across the broken sidewalk and crunch underfoot. The gothic metal fence lining the property is painted a chipped black. The Halloween vibes are off the chart out here. If she hadn’t come out earlier to shoot some B-roll, this would be the perfect time.

the girlssssss 4 people Thursday 8:07 PM tressa Whats you guys’s ETA Alf and therion just got here Therions already throwing a fit prim we’re about 6 mins out. phili Oh no! What happened? tressa they broke up bc Alf looks stupid. prim I swear to sealctige. Sorry Phili. phili I’m sure he looks fine :) tressa He really doesn’t tho. prim well we’ll be there soon. hold fast soldier. tressa o7

Before Tressa heads back to the guys, she pauses for a moment. The air is cool but not uncomfortably so, yet a shiver still snakes its way up her spine. She zips up her vest and tugs the cuffs of her sweater over her fingers.

It’s pretty out here, sure, but it is genuinely pretty creepy, too. There are no street lights around the academy–save a large spotlight out front, illuminating the main front gate. The fence isn’t that high either. Even if it’s topped with ornate spikes, that wouldn’t be enough to stop any ne'er do wells from entering. Yet when Tressa was here earlier to film, she didn’t see any graffiti on the walls or trash strewn about the yard. The academy is in tiptop shape. Well, as in-shape as any old, abandoned building can be.

But it’s still weird that it’s so abandoned, right? Like, there’s not a lot of security around the building either. The front gate is padlocked shut, with the key held solely by some up and up from the (new) Royal Academy.

Tressa warily eyes the dark facade, half expecting to see something looking back at her from one of the windows.

But the place is as empty and lifeless as ever.

She’s psyching herself out for no reason. Ghosts aren’t real, and they’re not in any kind of danger. If they do happen to run into someone unsavory inside, they’ll surely turn tail and run at the sight of Olberic and H’aanit.

Tressa shakes her head. Prim, H’aanit, and Phili will be here soon. She needs to head back out front and–

Darkness swoops in as her phone’s flashlight turns off. Tressa flails in surprise, nearly throwing her phone–but self preservation keeps her fingers locked tight around it. She taps on the screen to turn it back on, but it’s like frozen or something, stuck on the background image of her, Ali, and Noa at the fair this summer. The time reads 8:88.

Wait. What? She looks closer, squinting at the dimmed brightness. Okay, yeah, she just misread it. It’s 8:14.

That’s still… weird, though. It wasn’t that late before when she texted Primrose and Ophilia, right? Is her phone on the fritz? Damn Apple, making crappy, overpriced products. Tressa smacks the side of it, clicking the buttons over and over, trying to force it to restart.

Eventually, it unfreezes and the screen goes black. She keeps holding the buttons, waiting for that stupid little apple to pop up and show it’s restarting, but it never shows. Instead, her lock screen flashes back on. It shows a couple missed calls and new texts:

dumdum did you fall in a manhole or smthn — phili Hello? Where are you? Are you okay? — Missed Call from alf — alf Everything ok? where’d you go for real tress we’re gettin worried — dumdum shortstack where did you go if ur doing a prank video i’ll kill you i’ll seriously do it. — Missed Call from alf Missed Call from phili

Before Tressa can respond or even figure out what everyone’s talking about, a blurred, unflattering picture of Therion fills the screen. Her ringtone blares, cutting through the silence like a jagged knife. She answers. “Hey–”

“It’s about damn time!” he interrupts, sounding breathless. “Where the hell did you go? Did you get kidnapped?”

“I’m like twenty feet away from you, just around the corner of the building,” she snaps, marching back down the sidewalk towards the main gate. “I stepped away to text Prim.”

“Yeah, like ten minutes ago! They’ve been asking us where you are.”

Ten minutes? But that’s….

Tressa rounds the corner, stepping back into the buzzing fluorescent light. Cyrus and Olberic still stand by the gate next to her ghost hunting equipment, but now they’re joined by Primrose, trying to convince them that this isn’t something we need to call the cops over, calm down.

“Perhaps she took a wronge turn and lost her way,” H’aanit suggests, though her brow pinches in concern as she scans the street–and then finds Tressa.

“Okay, well, bye,” Tressa mutters before hanging up on Therion. To the rest of her friends, she says, “I had some phone trouble and I think I zoned out for a bit! I’m good though!”

Everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief. Primrose’s thumbs fly across her phone screen as she texts Alfyn and Therion–missing from the group–that Tressa is back.

Tressa becomes a broken record as she assures her friends she’s fine, that she just lost track of time, that nothing happened. No, she didn’t get lost. Yes, she’s really okay. No, she didn’t see Alfyn or Therion–

“I don’t see how you didn’t,” Primrose says, giving her a thorough scan for–what, any injuries Tressa may be hiding from them? “They both went looking for you. You’re sure you just walked around the corner? Kept to the sidewalk?”

Tressa nods. “Yeah, I stood beside the fence the whole time. I don’t know what else to say. I didn’t go anywhere, I swear.”

“What matters is that you’re safe,” Ophilia decides, descending upon the interrogation with all the grace of a saint. She wears a beatific smile that completely unravels the tension. “Let’s head inside. When Alfyn and Therion rejoin us, we can begin filming.”

#ghosthuntingwfriends #I'M DOING IT #octopath #octopath traveler #this is such a goofy au but dang it I'm mostly writing this for me

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iamsweden · 30 days ago

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WE GET POSSESSED? | Ghost Hunting with Friends! Pt. 3 SECOND FLOOR

Summary: Is there anything better than ghost hunting? Yeah, some pizza at home.

Read on AO3 here!

Read Pt. 1 Before the hunt here!

The Rumor Come Out: Does Alfyn and Therion are gay?

249,109 views | Oct 8, 2024 #phasmophobia #gaming

Five episodes in and we’re definitely experts at this whole ghost hunting thing, right? (Spoiler alert: Alfyn dies within the first five minutes again).

********

Buy our stuff:

gbgmerch.com

********

We’re also here:

Facebook: @GrabBagGames

Instagram: @GrabBagGames

X: @GrabBagGames

—

SECOND FLOOR

The second floor is cold.

The change in temperature hits Tressa all at once, like she walked out of the stairwell and straight into a freezer. Her first thought is oh, there’s a hella draft up here. Her second thought is, it wasn’t this cold outside earlier.

“Good grief, it’s freezin’ up here,” Alfyn says. He tugs Therion flush to his side, caging him in a big bear hug. “Good thing I brought my personal space heater, yeah?”

Therion levies a weary sigh, but he can’t be mean to Alfyn now. Not when he’s finally crawling out of his funk. That’s illegal.

Immediately, H’aanit shucks off her coat and presents it to Primrose. There’s absolutely no arguing with her (and Prim is probably freezing in that dress anyway) so she tugs it tight around her. Olberic tries to do the same for Cyrus, but he’s already wandering off, twittering, “I say, this floor is nearly identical to the Royal Academy! I’m going to find my office! This is so exciting!”

“Don’t go too far,” Olberic warns as he hurries after him.

If this was a horror movie, Cyrus would absolutely be the first guy to die.

Well, they’ll rejoin him soon enough. At least they know where Cyrus and Olberic are headed.

Tressa, criminally single but laying claim to her status as the Final Girl in this theoretical movie situation, braves the cold and films another intro: “We made it to the second floor! Right out the gate, looks like we’re experiencing some ghostly freezing temperatures! Stay tuned for more as we dive deeper into our investigation of the paranormal!”

“That’s really considered evidence?” Primrose asks.

“It is in Phasmophobia,” Alfyn says. Before they ask what the heck Phasmophobia is, he explains, “It’s a ghost hunting game. We’ve done, like, ten episodes of it.”

“We’ve done five episodes,” Therion corrects, voice muffled by Alfyn’s chest.

“We’ve done, like, five episodes of it,” Alfyn corrects.

Well, Tressa hasn’t seen any of those five episodes. She doesn’t have the time nor the patience to watch Let’s Plays, unless it’s a game that particularly gets on Therion’s nerves. She always makes an exception for those.

“Well, this is ghost hunting for real, so let’s, I don’t know, find the spookiest office and see if… the REM pod works?” Tressa asks, choosing the first device she gets her hands on.

The REM pod is the goofiest piece of equipment she bought for this excursion–and that’s including the Boo Buddy teddy bear. It’s a plastic cube with very fake-looking lights and an antenna. Apparently this thing is supposed to measure temperature and proximal distance. So if a ghost or some other source of electromagnetic energy draws close, it’ll light up and make noise. Kinda hokey, but isn’t everything related to paranormal investigation kinda hokey? Tressa thinks so, at least. And she’s the captain of this adventure, so what she says goes.

Alfyn and Therion shuffle off with Prim and H’aanit in search of their new haunting grounds. Tressa is ready to get things moving, but she hangs back to wait on Ophilia. She’s been quiet since they left the cafeteria, only responding in vague hums or not at all. Tressa figured she was just as upset about the Estes Method as Alfyn was, and didn’t want to bring it up again. But now she looks… distracted.

Ophilia looks down the opposite hallway from where the rest of their friends walked down, eyes flicking to and fro as if searching for something.

“You okay, Phili?” Tressa asks.

With a jolt, Ophilia blinks heavily. She summons a smile. “Oh, sorry. Yes, I’m alright. Did everyone else walk ahead?”

Something’s definitely going on with her, and Tressa isn’t super sure it’s about the ghost stuff anymore. “Yeah, they’re just exploring a little. Is something bothering you?”

Ophilia has a bad habit of tugging on her sleeves when something makes her uncomfortable. It’s always subtle, too, because she never wants to draw attention to herself. One glance at her sleeves show that they’re tugged all out of whack, wrinkled with worry. Ophilia catches her looking and casually pulls her hands behind her back. “I’m fine, Tressa. I promise.”

Ophilia is also a really bad liar.

But she’s stubborn, and she won’t tell Tressa what’s on her mind until she’s ready to talk about it. Ophilia inches towards the hall, nodding towards the dim sound of their friends’ chatter. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

“...Okay,” Tressa relents. “Let’s go.”

Just as the classrooms downstairs were all identical, so are the offices up here. They end up converging on one of the central rooms with a decent view of shrouded street below. A sense of deja vu hits Tressa as she walks through the doorway. She’s visited Cyrus’s office countless times before, so she’s incredibly familiar with the layout.

He keeps his desk shoved in the corner, just out of reach of the window. Instead, he keeps an armchair for students to use by the window instead. The wall behind his desk is crowded full of skinny, perilously-full bookcases. A basket beside the door holds a bunch of dusty old maps he rescued from a renovation project years ago. In the back corner sits an ornate little cabinet kept well-stocked with tea. A kettle rests atop it, always ready for action.

None of that liveliness is present here. Tressa knew the room would be empty. She never once expected otherwise. But to see the barebones office now, drenched in uncaring darkness and a healthy layer of dust, makes her feel unwelcome.

Tressa clears her throat, trying to shake off that sense of wrongness. No matter how similarly built, this is the Old Royal Academy, not the (new) Royal Academy. “Okay, I thought we’d check out the REM pod next. Are we ready to try and make contact again?”

At everyone’s nods or yeahs, Tressa sets the REM pod in the middle of the room and flicks it on. The cube erupts into flashing lights, squealing with an electronic fury. Tressa quickly backpedals, moving against the wall with the others. The REM pod dies down the further away she goes, until, finally, it falls dormant again. “So that’s what this thing does,” she jokes.

With a deep breath, she turns the camera back to her face and delivers a more concise explanation to the audience. She makes a mental note to ask Noa to make an infographic or something showing a visual explanation. That’ll look more professional than a regular monologue. Once that’s out of the way, Tressa takes a page out of Primrose’s book and addresses the eerily empty air with gravitas: “If there are any spirits here who want to communicate with us, please give us a sign. You can use this box in the middle of the room if you want.”

The room is still. Ophilia digs her thumbs into her cuffs, kneading her secret anxieties into the knitted fabric. Cyrus eyes the REM pod, expectant and hopeful. Olberic absently rubs the back of his neck.

Nothing happens.

“We know this used to be an office,” Therion says at length. “Are there any professors here? Our pal Cyrus would love to talk to you.”

They wait a little longer, but the REM pod remains quiet.

“Are there any students here?” Primrose asks. She tugs H’aanit’s jacket tighter around her. Tressa is already used to the cold.

They wait, and wait, and wait. The room is silent save the sound of their breathing. No cars drive on the street outside. The building does not settle. The floor no longer creaks under their feet, even when Alfyn uncomfortably shuffles.

Tressa doesn’t like it in here. The room is too big and too small all at once. Their flashlights don’t shine bright enough. Tension pools in her gut, making her nauseous. Ophilia keeps kneading her cuffs. Olberic rubs his neck again like it aches. Alfyn shuffles. H’aanit runs a hand through her hair. Prim pulls her jacket closer. Something is wrong. Nothing is wrong. Tressa feels like she’s about to explode but doesn’t understand why.

“Is anyone else here?” Ophilia quietly chimes in, right when Tressa was about to call it quits.

Instantly, as if waiting for this very moment, the REM lights up and buzzes. A moment later, it falls silent once again.

Cyrus, delighted, claps his hands. “Marvelous! Are you part of the staff?”

He receives no answer, but that doesn’t deter the professor now that he’s made contact. Unless, of course, that brief burst of activity wasn’t just a fluke. Olberic has the same thought: “To confirm you are present, please touch it again.”

Tressa jumps when it responds. The REM flashes rapid colors along the walls, forcing life, however briefly, into the room. Her stomach does a flip.

“Hmm,” Olberic hums.

Cyrus tugs on his sleeve, excited like a kid on Aelfric’s Day morning. “That was express confirmation, Love! Spirit, are you in any way associated with the Royal Academy?” When that garners no response, Cyrus asks, “In that case, do you have a connection with one of us?”

Lights dance along the walls. The electronic wail rings in Tressa’s ears long after the machine stops.

She maybe thinks this was a bad idea.

“O-oh,” Cyrus stutters. “I… see. Well, then. That’s–that’s certainly–”

Somewhere out in the hall, a door slams shut with such force that it reverberates through the floor. Tressa can’t help it–she shrieks and flails away from the doorway. She bumps into H’aanit, who reflexively grabs her. Final Girl Tressa is going to be so real right now: in her terror and panic, she tries to climb H’aanit like a tree. This does not work, and instead she just stomps all over H’aanit’s boots while she hisses, “Tressa, calmen thyself, ’tis naught but a draft–”

“That wasn’t a fucking draft!” Therion curses. He sticks his head out the door and wildly darts his flashlight to and fro, searching for–oh god what if a serial killer snuck in after them and they’re all about to get stabbed to death and die gods that would suck Tressa still has her whole life ahead of her and she’s just about to hit one million subscribers and now she’ll never get that gold play button.

All the while, the REM pod wails. The electronic warble sounds louder and more frantic than ever. The lights flash rapidly, maniacally, and Tressa dimly thinks it shouldn’t be able to do that before the REM pod explodes.

…Okay, it doesn’t really explode so much as overheat and spark a little, killing both the dizzying lights display and the screams of the robotic damned.

Tressa’s heart beats a mile a minute, thundering in her chest and in her ears. She swears she can hear her friends’ hearts, too, each of them a part of some gruesome, horrible symphony. The only thing holding Tressa together at the moment is H’aanit’s sure, steady grasp.

What was that? What was any of that? The REM pod, that slam, the legit responses from something that came here with them–

It can’t be a good ghost. Not after that display. The way this room made her nauseous, the pervasive and otherworldly chill on this whole floor–no, a good ghost wouldn’t be so hostile. Any thoughts of that spirit being Alfyn’s mom fly right out the window. Maybe they were wrong about the Estes Method and Tressa wasn’t talking to Holly Greengrass at all. Maybe it was another spirit, and maybe that spirit wanted to make Alfyn upset. Maybe it wanted to make all of them upset.

Honestly? Tressa doesn’t care what the ghost’s motives are. All that matters is that the spirit only showed itself here at the academy. As soon as they leave, they’ll be free from it, and it’ll never, ever bother them again.

Tressa has filmed more than enough to throw together a video. She has no reason to stick around here any longer.

“Let’s–” Her voice catches in her throat. Tressa tries again. “Let’s just get out of here. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“I believe that would be for the best,” Olberic agrees. He’s the first to escape the spell laid upon them. He shrugs off his coat and bundles the REM pod inside it, mindful of any potential electric shock. “We can reconvene at our house and order pizza, if that sounds amenable?”

Pizza is always good. Tressa nods, finally extricating herself from H’aanit. “Yeah. We’ll rent a movie like we did last time.”

With a new plan of action, Tressa and her friends set into motion, gathering up their bags and booking it down the hall towards the stairwell. They do not see any serial killers or evil ghosts lurking in the dark. They do not hear any heavy slams. No, it is a very normal, very chill walk back to–

Tressa stops at the stairwell landing.

She looks down at the giant hole where a staircase once stood. In its place, a heap of rubble lay blocking the door that leads back out into the ground floor hall. It’s just gone. The exit–it’s gone.

They’re trapped.

#ghosthuntingwfriends

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