#but that makes it a lot easier for authorities to crack down on unauthorized magic use and... deal with violators

[redwinterroses]

Okay so

TFC is a powerful stitcher who's been alive long enough to teach himself at least rudimentary unstitching

Ren is a pretty great stitcher, but it's something he learned from his prodigy younger brother who's actually Fucking Amazing at it

Jellie can stitch and no one knows how or why but Scar is delighted by it

False is one of the pioneers of combat stitching, idk enough about how this works in your head to really think of the details of what this would entail

Gem's stitching means her plants are Thriving no matter what environment she's in

Zed can't stitch. At least they don't think he can. Tango and Impulse insist that he's definitely not mundane, but the stories are always super hard to believe. Zedaph is just. Odd.

No one's sure if TFC was born with the ability, or if he's actually one of the fabled few who managed to learn it without a natural ability. And he's not telling. (Honestly, he's not sure himself. It probably doesn't matter anyway. He keeps the webbed foundation of Hermitcraft taut and watches for loose threads or weak spots so they can be dealt with before they're a problem.)

Ren can do Big Dramatic (Looking) Things that don't actually need much oomph behind them -- the magical equivalent of fireworks and smoke-and-mirror shows. But he's so clever about the way he uses them that half the time they end up just as useful as more dramatic workings.

Jellie Does As She Pleases.

Combat stitching would turn both ways, warp and weft. You'd be able to conjure armor and weapons and defenses, but also tug away at the threads that hold your opponent together -- you want to be evenly balanced in both so you can defend yourself against your enemy while still being able to strike back.

Gem, Stress, Jevin, Cub, Scar, and a few others are particularly skilled with the stitchings that cause life to bloom and land to grow. Xisuma can keep them safe, but he relies on them to keep their world alive.

Zed is. Zed. We're not entirely certain that Zed himself wasn't stitched into being by something or someone else. He doesn't have very many clear memories from before he found himself a Hermit... but that's probably for the better.

[crazypercheron]

The Haunted Manse

Foreword

I’m restless right now, so I decided I might as well start finally typing up my silly fanfiction that I have been working on since *squints at date on note book* the 24th of May, holy smoke has time gone by fast! And with time, the story actually dramatically changed not even halfway through the beginning so things are a bit off kilter I’ll admit but heck it, buckle up because you are going in for one heck of a dumb ride (just like the manor itself). I’m not a proficient writer I’ll admit and I do not claim to be one, but this fan fiction is only just for fun and for my reading enjoyment so if you find the fiction hard to read or just simply do not like the direction the story is going, sorry but I’m just going to have my fun. Besides, there are other extremely talented people out there who have written Haunted Mansion fan fiction better than I can so please go read and support their works of fiction instead of wasting energy to bash on my fun side project.

Anyways, I am going to base this Mansion off of the Original one at Disneyland with some hints of the other mansions tossed in with it, but appearance wise it is the one in California. Now this is my interpretation of the story with what little information I have, it will be based off the book The Unauthorized Story of Walt Disney's Haunted Mansion by Jeff Baham (Which I thought is a good read if you are interested in the story of the Making of the ride, not actually the story of the ride itself) as well as some information from awesome members of this fandom, I seriously love your guys works and major thanks to especially @asktheghosthost for allowing me to borrow their interpretation of, well, The Ghost Host. 

This is a muse/self insert fan fiction with my interpretation of Foxy the Pirate being an animatronic possessed by the spirit of a child since, well, there’s admittedly not that much information to what kind of character Foxy is -like is he a rival to Freddy or a friend?- and as morbid as it is, I’ve always actually liked the idea of a ghost helping a mortal out and following them around. Back then I use to watch a lot of those Ghost Adventure like shows and thought it’d be cool if like a Victorian era ghost follows and helps ghost hunters communicate with spirits and solve like murder mysteries and such. I should also warn you, the main character does not step foot in the mansion until Part 2, so if you want to get straight to the Mansion stuff, uhh, just wait until then. Anyways, enough with the rambling, I’ll post more later thoughts on future ‘Author’s Notes’, lets get on with the fiction.

Warning: Some strong language ahead

The Haunted Manse Part I

Chapter 1

Her boots pounded hard on the carpeted hallway as she rushed to find a place to hide. Anywhere in this contorted house. Despite a row of doors on either side of her flying past, Wren knew it was much more wise to run than to stop and waste precious time trying to open up one of those doors. Most commonly they were either locked forever to time or if they were left unlocked, they revealed nothing more than another corridor or that blasted wallpaper of the house. Besides, she had a destination in mind and she’d be damned if she allowed it to get any further. 

Finally reaching the door at the end of the corridor, Wren threw herself into the door and fumbled for the key in her pocket, not daring to look back as she could hear the crazed laughter coming for her, literally flying down the hallway. She cursed as the brass key fell from her grasp but snatched it up in her other hand and proceed to shove it back into the key hole.

Rusted with age, or perhaps with the magic of this damn mansion, the key protested with a squeal as she turned to unlock the door. The key was turned, but a lip on the deadbolt caught the door frame, preventing it from opening. Frantic, Wren tried rattling the door, casting a glance over her shoulder to see the eerie blue specter rush in for the kill. His cutlass raised high above his head.

With a crack of distant lightning, the sword swung down at her.

Suddenly her phone rang loudly, rattling the the brunette from her reading. Holding the town magazine in one hand, Wren reached into her bag and dug around until she grabbed her cellphone, answering it. With the blaring J-Pop ringtone silenced, Wren could hear a mechanical whirl over her shoulder, but she ignored it.

“Hello sir?” she answered.

“Songbird,” the gruff voice answered on the other end. “Good morning, just calling to check to see if you have gotten that email about your new job assignment?”

“Is it another pizzaria?” she joked, placing the magazine facedown to ‘bookmark’ her place to free up her hand to grab her cup of coffee.

The man chuckled. “No, at least, not for a while anyways since that Fazbear Pizzeria had closed down for good and no one is looking to hire any more security. So sorry Wren, no free pizza for you.” The voice continued, “Anyways, your new job assignment is at a memorial park. The last guard quit just a few days ago.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “I thought so, though let’s be honest, you sending me into a different county I think is worse than working at a cemetery,” she sighed into her cup. While the email didn’t named the new job location, it did provide an address to which she googled online. “Let me guess, ghosts scared him off?”

“There’s that, and apparently he had discovered that he had a paralyzing fear of dead bodies,” he added.

“What is it with you assigning me to places that are haunted? You think I’m some sort of ghost expert or something?” Wren laughed, “You know I have necrophobia as well, Bob.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not going to be assigned to the morgue if that is what you are afraid of,” Bob assured her, “We just need someone to just drive around the park, you know, make sure all the mausoleums are locked at dusk, and -uh- chase away any hooligans that this it’s funny to drink and drive on -uh- Gravity Hill.”

“So I’m working the night shift? Fun.”

“Someone has to, last month someone tried to steal an urn from the Lilac Mausoleums. They broke the glass to the case but luckily it was cemented to the wall.”

Wren frowned, “Ouch, someone actually tried to do that?”

“Well,” Bob said, “It’s not so much as the cremains they were after, err- rather it was the urn itself. Lilac Mausoleum is one of the oldest crypts, like -uh- a century old or so, I think. Back then, they prided themselves in art so that urn is nothing but pure bronze. Already the crypt vases for the -er- flowers have been taken to be melted down for money by thieves.”

“Oh, that sucks, but it does make sense.” She could picture a cat burglar with a black mask on making off the property with a bag full of loudly clanking brass crypt vases. 

Bob continued, changing his voice tone to change the subject, “But the park has added security cameras to the entrance and finally some bars on top of the display window so you’re just going to be doing patrol duty is all. Mostly at . . . uh,” he paused as Wren could hear him shuffling through paperwork, and shuffle back a few pages when he remarked, “Had the info right here, ah found it. Yes, they are hiring the extra guard to watch over Canson Cemetery. Apparently Floral Estates has noticed that there’s been an increase of trespassers.” 

By now, Wren had the phone on speaker and laid it on the table, picking up her knitting to keep her hands busy. She was used to Bob’s excessive conversation and wondered how the other employees managed to listen to him ramble on for hours. The again, there had always been, without fail, a vacancy or two in the company now that Wren was thinking about it.

“When questioned upon being detained, the security guards noted that they have video cameras and the trespassers -uh- have admitted to trying to film a ghost or some paranormal event for their UView channels,” Bob had said.

“Oh yeah, I was just reading about it just now,” Wren chimed in, picking up the magazine she had forgotten on the table to read the previous article. “Yeah, right here, it says ‘Canson Cemetery rings in another century of Ghost stories.’“

“That’s it, but it seems they want to actually -uh- get into the mansion next door. But the cemetery is much more easier to access since it’s open to the public.”

Wren paused for a moment. “The what now?”

“A mansion. It’s a real nice looking house, too bad it was the scene of an awful murder, but I suppose the long history behind it may be enticing to some paranormal hunters as well. Anyways, we’ll talk more later.” As if he sense that Wren wanted to ask him something, he also added, “And yes, you can bring your robot with you. You will be working at night, so not many people will see him anyways.”

“Alright, thank you, Bob. I’ll make sure to get there on time then since you send me so dang far away. Alright good bye.” The security guard pouted slightly after she hung up, leafing through the pages of the magazine. “Mansion? How rich are these people there?” Not a few pages in, Wren finally found the grand house she assumed her boss was speaking of.

It is indeed a nice house, painted white with beautiful scroll ironwork balconies and at the entrance stood four tall columns that reminded her of a Greek temple. Mechanical servos whirled again lightly behind Wren and she could sense that the robot behind her was trying to look at the magazine as well. “I think this is it, Foxy. It says here . . .” she skimmed the paragraphs briefly, “Yup, ‘Site of unsolved death, but the steward of the home, Eugene Davis, has refused to comment about the story of the house. . . While the home appears immaculately clean on the outside, residents as well as visitors to Canson Cemetery report eerie energy that radiates from the mansion.’” 

The animatronic fox let out a huff. Wren agreed, “Well yeah, no duh, they’re in a graveyard. ‘Some people believe that the murder cursed the house. Jerry, who is a gardener at Canson, said “Yeah, I’ve worked here since ‘94. . . There’s also a private cemetery on that property. I don’t understand how that guy and his coworkers deals with the creeps”. . .’ And just a bunch of dudes talking about hearing screams at night and seeing . . .” Wren had to not only reread the last sentence, but she even held it up to her eyes to make sure she was reading it correctly. “. . . And seeing what appears to be ghosts standing by the road sticking out  thumb as if asking to hitch for a ride?’ OK, that’s a load of bull.”

However, Foxy continued to stare at the photo, as though he vaguely remembered it from somewhere before.

Deciding to arrive early, Wren’s tiny car pulled up into the newer addition of the cemetery. The office building and morgue sat in the same asphalt parking lot she was parked in.

Floral Estates Memorial Park had to be one of the largest cemetery in not only Canson, but rather the entire state of California. While the corporate name is fairly new, there had always been cemetaries that dotted the immediate hill area, with Canson being the oldest. But eventually when Floral Estates was established about 100 years ago, they took in a lot of the older and more historical plots under their care and just expanded their property from there.

The Sun was still hanging over the horizon, but she could see a security truck pull out of the back of the employee lot and start driving towards the park. No doubt they were getting a head start in going to the far back of the cemetery to clear out the visitors before the sunset. Wren sat back in her car, pulling out a burger from a paper fast food bag and took out her phone too.

The large, furry red fox was also sitting in the back of the car, his yellow eye that was not hidden under an eyepatch gazed out the car window to observe the people getting into their cars and leaving the park. Wren paused her internet browsing as she glanced back up at the corporate office as she realized something. She lifted her phone up to take a photo of the Floral Estates building in front of her car then proceed to post the photo on her social media profile, captioning the photo, “That awkward moment you’re eating lunch in front of a building full of dead people.” She smirked to herself. Though who were the dead people? The cadavers or the employees themselves? she thought to herself.

Suddenly, Foxy’s ears perked up and he lifted his head slightly, the movement caught Wren’s attention. An older man had parked his truck the next car over to Wren’s car, but as he got out and walked over to her he waved. “Ey, Wren, good to see you again.”

Aw crap, she thought, I forgot he worked here too. She put on a big smile on her face as she opened the door. “It’s good to see you too, Dale,” Wren answered back, stuffing her unfinished burger into the bag and got out of the car. “So you’re going to be my tour guide for tonight I take it?”  Wren felt slightly embarrassed that she forgot that he still worked for the company. Perhaps she could lie that she lost his contact number if he asked why she didn’t stay in contact with him, though she prayed that he wouldn’t.

“Something like that,” he replied with a shrug, “Hello to you too, Foxy. Say, no Skye?”

“Not tonight,” balancing the drink and bag in one hand, Wren opened the door for Foxy to climb out, then shut and locked the car. “I heard there was coyotes and mountain lions here, so I didn’t want her chasing them thinking she could be friends with them.

The mustached man nodded. “And wolves too, yeah, Foxy could handle them I bet. So you’re going to be with me and I’ll show you the lock up procedures. It’s very simple, just walk through the mausoleums, remind any visitors still hanging about that we are closed, then you lock the doors and that’s it.” Dale continued on as the three climbed into the truck, “And then after that, you just drive around for the rest of the shift and the morning crew will open up. I’ll show you around the park where you will be working at. It’s got a nice view of the valley.”

Some of the polished black headstones that laid on the ground caught a glint of sunlight, making the green hills glitter in gold as they drove by on the winding steep roads of the park. The thicket of trees cast long, dark shadows on the hill as they finally reached the crest and just as Dale said, it was a lovely view of Canson and perhaps all of Secret County below them. 

“Alright, this is your first stop. I like to start here, you get a good view of the lawn to see if there’s any visitors still remaining,” Dale started, getting Wren’s attention. “It’s a big mausoleum, but you just have one hallway you go straight down and that’s it.”

“And if , by the off chance, there’s someone who refuses to leave?”

“Eh, you just call one of us and we’ll come over. Jeff is usually close by. His lawn is Peony Peace lawn. Plus he claims that he has a good view of the lawns,” Dale replied, leading Wren and Foxy up to the entrance of the Mausoleum and held the glass door open for them to enter. 

It was one of the modern mausoleums, with floor to ceiling glass windows at the entrance and surrounding the columbariums. Through the glass windows, Wren could see the urn niches, some of them stuffed with photos of the deceased person inside propped up among stuffed animals, others with marathon or military medals proudly on display, and some with rosaries of their respective religion surrounding the urns. Soft piano music was playing over the speakers, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the sound of Foxy’s mechanical gears grinding and moving his legs forward. 

As the trio passed the first hall though, Wren felt a chilly breeze blew past them. She swore she heard a chuckle, like the voice was . . . . amused at seeing Foxy since it sounded like it was directed towards the robot. “What did you say, Dale?”

“Hmm?” he looked over at Wren, “I didn’t say anything.”

Wren looked up at the speakers; they were still playing soft classical music, so doubtful that they made that strange sound too. “Sorry, must have heard the music.”

Finally securing all the mausoleums, Dal brought Wren back to the Main parking lot where her car was, the Sun had fully set beyond the horizon and was giving way to the silver glow of the moon and the orange lamps of the streetlights. 

“And that’s about it,” he finished, putting the truck in park. “Then sometimes, I sit out here. . . Make sure no one tried to climb over the fence. But you can drive around and I’ll let someone else watch it for you.”

“I’ll do the watch, it gives me time to finish knitting this sweater I’ve been working on,” she offered, getting out of the car. “Thanks for showing me around, Dale. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“No problem! You be careful driving home, say hi to your dad for me!”

“Will do! Come on Foxy.” Foxy, who was now sitting in the bed of the truck, rose up and hopped over the side of the truck, making it rock from the sudden lack of weight as he made his way over to join Wren’s side. “Say, Dale, I forgot to ask,” Wren started when she paused her walk over to her car. “Is it true? I mean, I heard that there’s like this . . . mansion that people have been trying to get into?”

Dale rubbed his chin, “Mansion? Oh yeah, there is this mansion-er I believe it’s called Hightower Manor? Yeah, it’s over there west of this road. . .” He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Say, you’re not trying to get inside too, are ya?”

She shook her head, “Oh no-no, it’s not that, I heard that is why I was assigned here. To help with the increase of trespassers here trying to get into that manor?”

“Hmm, yeah that's true. But I’ve seen these ‘ghost hunter’ trespassers in all the lawns and even properties I’ve worked at,” he shrugged, “That mansion is no different than the cookie factory I worked at before it got closed down for that shopping mall. Besides, it looks quite nice and there’s people who live there so I don’t think there’s nothing to worry about. Give it a year, people will forget about it and go elsewhere.”

“Right, well, it’s getting very late-I mean, early morning. Thank you again for showing me around,” Wren interrupted as she pulled back her sleeve on her jacket to dramatically look at her watch. It was only 1:30 in the morning, she had gone to bed on work nights way later than that, besides even on days off she would stay up almost all night long. Of course, now she had Foxy to blame, ever since the pizzeria had closed down sooner than scheduled, Wren was allowed to take Foxy’s internal hard drive from his old and heavily rusted animatronic body and replaced into a new animatronic frame. Needless to say, it was not a cheap thing to do and sometimes as Wren could hear him stalking around the house, she wondered if she had made a mistake bringing him home.

“Of course, I’ll get the gate for you.” He pulled away to park next to the gate as Wren helped Foxy get into the car. As she took her seat in the driver’s side, Wren looked over at the huge robot crouched in her backseat.

“What do you think? Should we drive by? Just to take a peek?” Foxy furrowed his brows and frown. Turning the key, Wren tried to convince him, “Oh, come on, I’m not going to stop, we’ll just drive by. Besides, Tasty Burger is in that direction I believe.” If he could sigh, surely he didn’t need to do so audibly as Foxy’s shoulder sloped down as if he did sighed and rolled his eyes in defeat. “Thanks Foxy-Loxy, you’re the best.”

The car puttered off of the cemetery lot and turned left on the road. Streetlights were placed so far apart, most of the road was almost pitch black with trees and bushes heavily lining one side of the road opposite of the cemetery property. No doubt it was to try to block the homeowners’ view of the cemetery and reminder of the inevitable just across the street. Soon the rolling tall hills with glinting flat headstone markers gave way to the taller, much more impressively ornate headstones and monuments that glowed an haunting white aura under the pale light of the moon and streetlamps. 

Finally, a tall brick wall severely cut off the field of tombstones and it was replaced with a huge lawn of grass, pruned shrubbery and trees. Wren slowed her car down to a coast and both she and Foxy craned their heads to get a look. There, sitting atop a hill as it almost on cue sat the mansion.

It appeared to be a fairly large home instead of the much giant castles that Hollywood stars of now live in, but this was surely the same home, Wren recognized the four distinct pillars that marked the entrance of the home. Unable to see much of the home due to how strangely dark the property was, Wren frown. “Hah, well Foxy, that was anticlimactic-”

She gasped as she turned her attention to the road. Wren slammed on the brakes and swerved into the next lane, then fishtailed back into her original lane before, with tires screeching, her car took a skidding slide across the entire road and finally came to a skidding halt in the shoulder of the opposing traffic lane. Thank God she was the only one in the road, she thought to herself, feeling her body running ice cold with the sudden adrenaline spike surging through her, gripping the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip.

Once the car had came to a complete stop, Foxy lift his head from his brace position and leered at Wren. She took noticed in the rear view mirror. “Hey now, don’t give me that look, Foxy! I just saw someone close to the street!”  

The petite woman placed her car in park and staggered out of the vehicle. She cursed under her breath as she walked over to the street, shining her flashlight down the road. “Alright jerk, where the hell. . . are . . . you?” Wren swept the light side to side down the road, but all she saw was the tire marks on the road that emitted the smell of burning rubber still. A glint suddenly flashed in the shadow of the bushes, making her step back. “What the-?”

“Miss! Hey, miss!” a voice called from behind. Wren turned to see she had stopped her car next to the gated entrance of none other than that of the grand house. There on the other side of the gate was an elderly-looking man, white hair stuck out in wild tufts from underneath his cap. He wore a green scarf around his skinny neck and his clothes and jacket just seem to hung off his hunched frame like it was one size too large for the man. “Are you alright? I-I heard the sound so I came over to see if I could help,” he stammered.

“I’m fine, just. . . just almost hit a deer or something,” she lied, looking over her shoulder at where the flashlight had caught that glint. whatever it was, it was gone now. She approached the man at the gate, getting a good look at his appearance and noticed he looked quite unnaturally gaunt. His cheeks sunken in his face and in his right hand, he held aloft an old-fashion oil lantern.

He sighed in relief. “Good, well I’m glad you are OK, miss. The roads are quite dangerous if you are not careful.”

“I now see that they are. Umm, thank you sir for checking on me, I’ll be leaving then.”

“Oh, alright,” the man said, watching her go back to her car. As Wern opened the door, he quickly called out, “You be careful now!” Wren gave him a wave as she reversed her car off the grassy shoulder and, once she was clear that no cars were coming down the road her way, drove back over to her side of the road. The mansion slowly fading from her view and into the darkness.

A few more seconds of feeling Foxy’s gaze of concern on the back of her head got Wren to finally answer him. “Yeah, I’m not really feeling like burgers tonight. Let’s . . .  Let’s just go home, Foxy.”