Monster type: Collector (Motivation: To steal specific sorts of things)
He is in your house. He’s in the walls, he’s in the plumbing, he’s in the closets and under the bed and in the cupboards.
He is the House Man. And as far as he’s concerned this is his house, and you are not welcome in his house.
No one is sure where the House Man comes from, he just appears one day, growing in the walls like a mold or fungus. But once he awakens he claims the house as his own, and will do anything to drive out the true occupants, who are intruders in his mind. The House Man does not share, he does not cohabit, he is selfishness and entitlement personified.
Physically the House Man resembles a giant lanky man, over twenty feet long with elongated limbs and pale fish belly white skin. He is hairless and wrinkly with yellowed eyes and teeth and long crooked nails.
Despite his size, the House Man is boneless, he cannot stand under his own weight, and instead crawls around, not that he spends much time out in the open; The House Man prefers to hide in tight enclosed spaces: In walls, closets, cupboards, vents, dumbwaiters, even pipes and plumbing. Their boneless nature lets the House Man squeeze into virtually any space no matter how narrow. An inch of space between a wall and a bookshelf is enough space for him to occupy.
Once the House Man becomes aware of “intruders” in his house, he will set about a campaign of terror upon them in an attempt to drive them out. He starts small, stealing small objects and food, allowing fleeting glimpses to be caught of him, making strange noises and smells. As time goes on they become more aggressive; reaching out to claw at its victims, smashing and destroying things, or maybe even killing a pet or small child. The House Man does not stop until its either driven out or killed the original occupants of the house.
Fighting the House Man is difficult; it can move shockingly fast and can attack from virtually any space or direction; a hand can snake out of a toilet, or a kitchen sink drain, or from a crack in the wall to slash at his victims, and he keeps himself well hidden, never coming out in the open willingly. Fighting the House Man is essentially fighting blind.
However, the House Man has a weakness; they cannot exist in the outside: Fresh air and sunlight are poison to the House Man. If the windows of a house are opened wide, and it is somehow pulled from its hiding space, then it would quickly shrivel and die. If actually pulled outside, the House Man would literally crumple to dust in seconds.
Once dead, if the walls of the house are explored, the House Man’s nest can be found; filled with trinkets and treasures its swiped, and the bones of previous victims.
Powers: Elongated rubbery body, can squeeze into virtually any space no matter how small. Can silently snatch and steal baubles which draw its attention.
Attack: Scratching nails: 3 harm, far*, innocuous
*ordinarily this would be hand or intimate, but this takes into account the House Man’s elastic body and ability to attack from a distance.
Armor: 1 (rubbery body)
Harm Capacity: 6
Weakness: Poisoned and killed by fresh air and sunlight, instantly dies if they go outside.
i really loved the panic attack scenario... could u possibly consider writing another one in which he teaches you how to play football? i love your work so so much
holaaa!
Ah yes, ofc I'll do that! Also, tysmm I'm glad you liked my work <33
"I hope you're ready to play with me, mi cariño..."
I just squint a little, blocking the sunlight falling on my face with my hands. The cute little grin on my boyfriend's innocent face, and the excitement his voice was laced with, only made it harder for me to say no, and go home for the simple reason that I was too lazy to learn football today. Especially from him.
Gosh, how does he always manage to convince me with those adorable puppy eyes of his? "At least this jersey looks good." I sigh to myself, looking down, trying to brush off my lethargy. "You look good in everything." He shrugs, placing the ball down. "And nothing." He winks, and I just roll my eyes at this cheesy goofball.
Although, I have to admit, no matter how many times I've seen him in his uniform, both on T.V and in person, he never fails to get me drooling. Everything about him was just so perfect. His dark, fluffy hair blowing in the breeze, his chocolate brown eyes filled with purity and mischief, and his soft, blooming skin being hit by the sunlight in all the right places...
Even the way he held his football made me wish that he was holding me like that instead. But then I saw his impatient face, making me roll my eyes and snap outta the trance I was put under by his then-charming face. Now he looks like an annoying kid ready to throw a fit any moment because his mother denied taking him to McDonald's.
"Where's the rest of the crew?" I ask him, walking closer. "I already told you last night. It's just you and me." He sighs. "You always said you wanted to learn how to play anyway." He then reminds. "Didn't think you'd take it that seriously." I murmur to myself. "What was that?" He questions. "Nothing." I reply.
"So you booked this entire place just for the two of us?" I then ask, smiling and looking around, somewhat flattered. "Of course not-" He scoffs. "I borrowed one of the spare keys from coach last practice." He adds. "Borrowed." I raise my brows at him. "Sounds a lot like stealing to me, not gonna lie." I chuckle wryly.
"Depends how you'd describe stealing." He bites his lips nervously. "The action or offence of taking another person's property without permission or legal right and without intending to return it." I answer, copying that definition straight outta google. Don't even know why I learned it, to be honest.
"Oh, uh... hehe." He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. "So not only did you steal something, but you're also technically trespassing?" I realize. "Oh, whatever, you've done much worse." He rolls his eyes. "Oh yeah? Like what?" I raise my brow at him. "I don't know... stalking?" He holds in a laugh.
"SHHH- I was drunk when I said that." I roll my eyes, referring to the time when drunk-me exposed myself by telling Pablo that I used to stalk him on social media when I was younger. "A drunk heart never lies." He chuckles, not minding it. "So are you gonna teach me or not?" I scoff, changing the topic.
"Oh yeah, of course..." He says, walking away and towards the goal. "Let's start with some basic passes, yeah?" He places the ball down in front of me, and then walking to the other side. "I know how to kick, Pablo. I used to play soccer in school a lot." I roll my eyes, kicking the ball over to him.
"The fact that you just called it that just proves that you got everything wrong." He scoffs, offended, kicking it back to me. "Same diff." I shrug, kicking it back to him, but harder. "Powerful kick." He compliments, running behind the ball to get it. "You're aim's still a little off though." He remarks. "Or a LOT off." He sighs, kicking it back to me.
It was going above me, but since I saw Pablo do it multiple times in the past, I figured it wouldn't be too hard to stop it with my head, and jumped up. Good news: I stopped it. Bad news: The blow probably flattened my face like a tortilla now. I landed on the ground with the thud, my vision extremely blurry as the world seemed to be spinning around.
"¡Ay, caramba!" I hear Pablo exclaim. "I am so so so sorry, mi amor." He rushes by my side, examining my tortilla face. "I'm used to playing with bigger guys- I totally forgot how delicate you were." He sighs, kissing my throbbing forehead. My vision began clearing up a little, but my head was still spinning.
Since I wasn't a fan of having my face flattened right that, and being called delicate, I quickly sat up, shooting him a glare. "Uh oh..." He gulps, realizing what was up, and began inching away from me slowly. "You get back here!" I snarl, chasing him now, but he was too fast, and my stamina was horrible. At least compared to his.
We ran around for about 5 minutes, and I tried throwing the football on him numerous times while doing so too, in order to avenge my face, but unfortunately, he dodged them all. "I'm sorry!" He yells again when I threw the ball at him, but it missed again, making him laugh. Was he seriously enjoying this?!
I finally stopped in the middle of the field, panting heavily, drenched in my own sweat. That was some workout... Pablo cautiously approached me, sweating too, but still fresh from the run, not even a little tired. Before any of us could say anything, we heard a whistle blow from the other end of the field.
When we both looked in that direction, we saw a bunch of security guards dressed in all black and some badass shades make their way towards us. They yelled something to us in Spanish, but we couldn't really tell what, as it was pretty indistinctive. "Oh shit..." I curse under my breath, knowing we were in trouble.
"This way!" I grab Pablo's wrist, taking off in the opposite direction. We made it to the end, and turned back and ran in another direction as there was nowhere to go. Dodging and tacking a couple of guards, we finally made it to the exit, but that's when Pablo turned back and ran towards the center of the field.
"The fuck are you doing?!" I yell at him, worried that the slow, exhausted guards might catch up. "I can't leave Señor Romero behind!" He answers, quickly getting his football, and running back to me. "You never carry me so preciously." I roll my eyes at him once he caught up, locking the guards in.
"You're seriously jealous of my football now?" He raises his brows, chuckling as we both sweetly waved to the screaming guards who cursed at us both, tired of Gavi's mischief, as yes, this wasn't the first time he had done something like this. Only difference is that he usually did it with Pedri.
"You know... We really should play football together more often."
Summary: After revealing a resounding success in his first video, Wes drags Sam and Tucker deeper into Amity Park, the heart of the haunting itself, FentonWorks.
Warnings: minor crime
Words: 2781
Notes: I love writing things from a limited perspective, I think that’s why I like how this turned out. This is finished btw, there is no Part 3, because there is no more camera.
@ectoberhaunt
The camera blinked to live, fully recharged once more, the countdown already going. In the frame was Wes Weston himself, while Sam stood begrudgingly beside him, looking irritated and tapping her foot while shooting Wes a glare. Wes himself looked like someone had thrown an extra three shots of espresso into his energy drink. They stood, once again in front of the Amity Park sign, yet again in the evening. There must’ve been some fort of signal from Tucker behind the camera, because as soon as the countdown hit zero, Wes began.
“Hello fellow conspirators and ghost hunters, I’m Wes Weston, once again joined by Sam Manson, our lore expert, and Tucker Foley on tech. After reviewing the footage from our last trip to Amity Park, we’ve learned that what we thought was a failure, was actually a resounding success! While we didn’t get close ups with Amity Park’s local population, we did get undeniable evidence of them. We even have what we believe to be one of the first recorded sightings of Phantom in the past three decades!” Wes took a deep breath, visibly trying to stop himself from skating with what looked to be giddy excitement..
“As such, we’ve returned for another round! This time, to inspect the object of my personal theory and obsession, the FentonWorks building. With the confirmation that Phantom is still in Amity Park, I want to see if I can get some closer footage of what I believe was once his home. It is also important to note that FentonWorks is regarded as ground zero for the ghost invasion, which also warrants inspection as a location of significance in Amity Park.”
Sam gave Wes a hardy shove, making the redhead stumble barely out of frame, and she got increasingly closer to the camera, until her face took up most of the view as she leaned in.
“Sam! Don’t get so close to Maria! She’s sensitive!” Tucker cried out. Sam dutifully ignored him.
“Let it be known that I said this was a bad idea. I did not agree to this, but if I hadn’t agreed to come, these two idiots would’ve gone without me!”
“Aww, don’t be like that Sam, Wes is the only idiot here.”
“Hey! This is my video on my channel!” Wes shouted.
Sam stood up from her crouched position in the camera, covering the view with the black material of her shirt. The camera struggled to focus, and ultimately didn’t.
“You still would’ve gone into FentonWorks, which makes you an idiot. I don’t even know why you want to in the first place. Ground zero is definitely going to be a place we shouldn’t step in. Even going into the Neon District last week was pushing it,” Sam countered.
“The Fentons were groundbreaking scientists, Sam. They built a portal. That’s some high-class tech, and I wanna get up close and personal with it. God, I hope some of their work is still there,” Tucker gushed.
“And this is why I’m the only one of us with self-preservation.”
“Can we get back to the video, please!” Wes huffed, dusting himself off.
Sam retreated from the camera. It took a few seconds to find its focus once more, but eventually returned to a crisp image of both Sam and Wes. Wes cast Sam a hesitant glance, as if she would shove him into the ground again.
“As a dangerous location,” Sam began, “We will be taking more precautions than we did last time, wish we should’ve done last time, too. And, also for the record, don’t do this. What we are doing is ultimately trespassing and disrespectful to the spirits remaining in Amity Park.” Sam let out a heavy sigh, visibly slouching into herself in resignation.
“Let’s get to it then,” Sam groaned.
The camera flickers to life, battery one bar lower, and the trio stands in front of an old, red-brick building. The windows on the first floor are cracked, broken, or boarded up, but the second floor seems to be intact. On top of the building, there is a giant metal structure, old satellite dishes and antennae jutting from it in every direction.
“I am so surprised that thing is still up there,” Tucker gasped. “There’s no logical way it should still be there, but here we are.”
“You say that like the Fenton family made much sense in the first place,” Sam added.
“No, but I’m definitely more excited to get inside of whatever the hell that is now.”
Wes waved them over, where he stood by the door. Tucker panned the camera around, showing the sheer size of the metal structure on top of the building before walking into its shadow and to the front door. Wes tried the handle, but it didn’t budge.
“Damn, guess we got to leave. No visitors allowed,” Sam shrugged, an exaggerated disappointment in her tone.
Sam walked over and grabbed onto Tucker, dragged him away from the building, jostling the video. It was still able to catch shots of Wes glancing around, before digging through his pockets and pulling out a small box, then approaching the lock. Sam stopped, and Tucker zoomed in on the camera.
“No fucking way… Wes!” Sam shouted.
“What? I still want to go in!” Wes defended himself, not turning away from picking the lock.
“You know,” Tucker said, “I’m not actually surprised he can pick locks, considering that Officer Grey mentioned trespassing charges.”
“I’m surprised there’s not breaking and entering charges on that list,” Sam huffed.
“Oh, there is,” Wes added unhelpfully.
“If we get arrested for this, I’m not paying either of your bails.”
“Sam! That’s so mean! You would abandon us?” Tucker cried out.
“Oh, absolutely. And then edit this video myself, cutting out the crime part, and then post it, taking all the credit.”
There was a barely audible click from the lock, and Wes pushed the door open. We gave a prideful grin to the camera, before standing up and holding the door open for Tucker and Sam.
“And on we go,” Sam moaned, following Tucker into the building.
Tucker clicked something on the camera, and the scenery switched into a night vision view in the dark entryway. He spun the camera around to watch as Sam entered carefully, closing the door behind them, limiting the light to only what could be caught from the fading sunlight through the broken windows. Wes sneezed, sending dust into the air.
“I am once again repeating that this is an awful idea,” Sam said, much more hesitation than the other times she’s made the same proclamation, covering her face with her hand to avoid breathing in the dust Wes had blown up.
“Well, it’s too late now,” Tucker shrugged.
“Do we want to go upstairs first, or down to the basement?” Wes asked.
“Upstairs,” Sam answered.
Wes led the way with his flash light, while Tucker made sure to keep the camera pointed at the red head. They found the stairs without much wandering around. It looked much like a standard living room.
They heard growling, and something scampered around on the floor. Tucker shrieked and Wes quickly pointed the flashlight over to it. The hotdog hissed at them once more, before scampering away.
The trio didn’t move.
“That was a hotdog,” Wes gasped.
“There’s a reason I don’t eat meat…” Sam half-heartedly joked.
“Because it apparently comes back to life after a while?” Tucker asked.
“Sure… Let’s just hurry up the stairs.”
The video shook as the trio practically ran up the stairs, pausing to catch their breath at the top of them. The camera pointed directly down a long hallway. Picture frames were still in place along the walls, and Tucker pointed the camera at one to get a good shot of what seemed to be the Fenton family at the park. It was a nice photo.
“Oh, now I’m starting to feel bad,” Tucker sighed.
“Would you rather go back downstairs with the hotdog?” Sam asked.
Tucker didn’t answer but walked down the hallways, pausing every now and again on various photos of the Fenton family. They looked happy in all of them, but both of their kids were young, and there were no photos of them in their teen years. Tucker pushed open a door, and gestured for Wes to go first. Wes huffed, but went in regardless, followed by Sam and then Tucker himself.
Wes shined his flashlight through the room, revealing it to be a dust-covered bedroom. It had been neatly emptied, but it was obviously a girl’s room.
“You think this is Ms. Jasmine’s room?” Tucker asked.
“Most likely,” Wes hummed, pursuing through the things that remained, which wasn’t much other than some old books and a couple of trinkets. And a stuffed bear meant to look like Albert Einstein, sitting neatly on the bed. There wasn’t a speck of dust on the bear, nor on a patch of the bed near the bear, unlike the rest of the room. No one noticed.
“Stop messing with her things like you’ve never been in a girl’s room before, Wes, and let’s keep moving,” Sam scoffed.
Wes gives her an indignant look, but puts the things back. “I’ve totally been in a girls room before,” he defended himself.
“Sure,” Sam drawled.
The group left the room, and went into the next one, which was another bedroom. The curtains were open, lighting up the room in a dim light. Wes went in and touched the neatly made sheets, then looked at his hand.
“What?” Sam asked.
“There’s no dust in here,” Wes frowned.
Wes inspected the room more, while Tucker recorded from the doorway. Each time he ran his finger along something, there was barely any dust. Wes paused over by the desk, and beckoned Tucker over, who pointed his camera down at the scattered papers, all in a strange language. On the video, the letters seemed to swim all over the video, shifting all on their own. Neither Wes nor Tucker seemed to notice.
“This is Danny’s room,” Wes stated.
“And that explains the lack of dust, how?” Tucker asked.
“Probably because it’s been locked up and completely unopened in years. Someone probably cleaned it after he went missing,” Sam answered.
“And that explains the mess, how?” Wes shot back.
Sam shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t want to mess with his things in case he came. And we really should either. Also, let’s just go down to the basement already and get this over with. This place gives me the creeps.”
“Because of the hotdog?” Tucker offered.
“That too.”
Sam left the room and went back down the hall, leading the way with her own flashlight. Wes shrugged and then followed, leaving Tucker recording their backs. They looked around the main room once more, carefully staring at corners in case something else popped up, before going to the stairs leading down into the basement.
The sound of metal stairs was unexpectedly loud after going from partially-rotted and dust-covered carpet. Sam’s boots sounded like drums as they echoed in the lab. Wes winced at the noise, hissing under his breath. Tucker made a noticeable effort to be quiet and scanned the lab with the camera.
The image glitched, struggling to truly record the deeply saturated color of the only light source from deeper in the room, but the light it cast on everything else in the room was a bright green that could never exist on its own. It revealed the lab tables, cabinets, half-finished contraptions littering their surface,some in pieces, others seemingly fully assembled. The more finished ones were carefully lined up, including a bunch of thermoses, what looked to be a boomerang, and a rigged box with a speaker, a small light blinking on it.
Tucker’s hesitation faded in an instant as he caught sight of the inventions on the table, rushing down the stairs, causing the camera to shake violently. He immediately pointed it at the various instruments scattered about.
“What do you think this one does?” Tucker asked excitedly, swinging the camera from the small speaker box to the entrance of the lab.
Sam and Wes stared at him dumbfounded. “Seriously? You’re just going to ignore the portal to another reality right in front of you?” Sam questioned.
“Yeah. Things already documented to all hell. Besides, it’s more ‘horrors of man’ and less technological advancement of the century’ at this point since no one knows how it even works. This thing on the other hand,” Tucker waved the speaker box in front of the camera, “can be taken apart and studied, the tech and theories behind it applied to other things.” The box was pulled back from view. “Wonderful machine, what secrets do you hold?” Tucker cooed. The box remained silent.
There was movement behind Wes and Sam, much bigger than a hotdog.
Sam sighed, arms crossed, and finally moved away from the entrance. Wes stayed. Tucker followed Sam with the camera as she crossed the lab going towards the portal. “How do you know it even does anything? Could just be a fancy piece of junk,” Sam commented.
“The Fentons punched a hole in reality, Sam. I’m sure they had some other, less catastrophic inventions. They were still active scientists before and after the portal opened.”
The camera glitched, cutting frames and reducing the quality to a blurry fuzz.
“Sure, if weapons count.”
The video spasmed.
“Hey, is it really cold down here or is it just me?” Wes interjected.
Sam got closer to the portal, approaching curiously. “Just you. What do you suppose is on the other side?”
“Uh… ghosts?” Tucker offered.
“Yeah, but what does it look like? How do they… unlive? Their culture?” Sam pressed, growing closer.
“I don’t know? Like ghosts, maybe? They’ve been pretty destructive here, so maybe it’s just anarchy?”
Sam took another step closer to the portal. “What do you suppose the geography is like? The biosphere, if it can even be called that? From the records, ghosts can all fly, so is there a ground at all? But if there’s no ground, why would they have legs? What about structures?” Sam was getting dangerously close to the portal as she rambled, but took a second to breathe. “There has to be at least some stable ground, or else the ghosts would have to be nomadic, and then there wouldn’t be any reason for the ones that used to be frequent visitors to come back. And what about the things some of them would steal? Where do they keep them? And-” Sam was so close she could’ve run her fingers over the surface.
“Sam!” Wes called out. “You shouldn’t get so close to the portal! What if something comes out?” Wes cried.
“Oh please. There haven’t been any active sightings in at least-”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Tucker jumped and whipped around so hard it seemed like he had nearly thrown the camera. The voice was thrown around the room as if shouted, echoing and reverbing off the walls and tiles.
“I am a ghost. It’s dangerous here and you are trespassing. Fear me,” a mechanical voice added.
The camera struggled to focus on the figure at the top of the stairs, still extremely out of focus due to the interference of the portal. All that was identifiable was black hair, pale skin, dirty clothes, blue eyes much brighter than they should be in the darkness, and the fact that the figure was young and male.
“Holy shit!” Wes cursed, turning so fast he fell over himself, staring up at the small figure at the top of the stairs.
“Leave,” the boy growled.
“Or I will remove you. Fear Me,” the mechanical voice finished.
“You’re Daniel Fenton,” Sam whispered in awe.
Wes choked on his own spit, frozen in place. He muttered something inaudible under his breath, eyes blown wide and staring at Daniel. He met his gaze, clearly having heard whatever Wes had said as the boy narrowed his too-blue eyes.
It broke when Daniel jerked his head towards Sam, eyes blown wide himself, burning the same green as the portal.
“WATCH OUT!”
Tucker tried and failed to catch the figure on his camera as he sped towards Sam, catching only a singular frame of a figure in black and white, with blazing green eyes. He managed to swing the camera just in time to catch Sam’s panicked face as something dragged her beyond the portal and Phantom dived after. Unable to take anymore, the camera devolved into little more than indistinguishable static and white noise.
“There’s someone behind you.”
The video was cut off completely. It didn’t start again.
