jaxon was at his desk, a quil in his hand as he went on reading one of the thousands of books that littered his small tower like room. out of all of the rooms in the house jaxon had just been drawn to the tower like rooms. they were smaller but somehow jaxon fell in love with them.
he looked up hearing the all too known sounds. he got up, the low classical music being turned off as he walked. he opened the window and looked down at wednesday. “oh ?” jaxon called down. “like what?”
“ oh, you know. . . ” excitement bubbled inside her chest, making her limbs feel like air. the possibilities became a frightening storm in her mind, different shades of grey whirling with gusts of wind. “ little of this, little of that. old man richards got a new mailbox that’s begging to be vandalized. not to mention. . . i found a new spot. ”
of the few that wednesday had deemed interesting enough to warrant friendship, jaxon managed to coax a smile from her more often than not. it infuriated her. though, she would never say so out loud. a thrilling smile crawled across her face. “ now, are you coming or not? ”
the kid seemed as clumsy with his tools as he had been as his age. but tony would rather be caught in his underwear on the first day of school than admit so. a decent sized window opened up to the little garage attached to his shop and he found himself quietly observing from his office. he should have been watching the cameras for shoplifters but there had been very few in alucard. tony felt grateful that he had rarely needed to chase delinquents from his shop. for now, he sat observing his newest employee as peter installed some after market radio on an ancient car. it wasn’t until he noticed the kid had misplaced a certain screwdriver and was frantically searching for it among the mess he’d made that he decided to step in.
“ to your left, parker! ” he’d peaked from around the door, gesturing to the tool just out of reach. amusement flickered across the features of his face, “ you know i’m not payin’ you to reorganize my tools, don’t ya? ”
most likely the rat had been poisoned. there was no visible harm to it’s dull brown coat and it felt warm as if the poor thing had just died. there was no pity in wednesday’s heart. as they never thought of the dead as ever truly dead. wednesday had the dead rat wrapped in a white cloth and delicately placed into the inside pocket of their jacket.
the sudden discovery of the recently deceased had lightened their spirits. heart thumping at any possibility. one could almost anticipate the unknown while downtown. they found themselves roaming its attractions often out of boredom. with the bay so close they could smell the water. it was delightfully insidious. small wonder that they found themselves in attendance at the fairground. the dead rat safely snug in their pocket.
“ hey, strife! ” a grin almost threatened to crawl over her lips as the menacing girl absently patted her jacket pocket. cloud stood inside the hazy circle of light coming from the ice cream stand, advertising waffle cones and sprinkles. “ having a dreadful night by any chance? ”
the night time air had always felt crisp and it filled wednesday’s nose in a sharp cold rush. the feeling was painfully sweet as her lungs expanded to accommodate. it was the reason she preferred using her bicycle to travel around alucard. and it totally wasn’t because she couldn’t afford a car. absolutely not.
as she pedaled furiously towards her destination she let the air move over her. cold, sharp wind caused by her momentum left her face chapped and pink. it felt reviving. the dark sky didn’t threaten to burst with rain and the sun had been quietly resting for hours.
wednesday leaned into a terrifying curve, arriving at an expensive home with a single light on. it felt like an ancient time waiting for jaxon to answer her expertly thrown pebbles. they happily dinked sharply off his glass window. in a harsh stage whisper wednesday calls, “ hurry up! we have mischief to manage! ”
AFTER POURNG A SEVERE amount of sugar into her beverage, alice stands at the cafe’s add on bar, in search of a stirrer. she doesn’t pay any mind to the person beside her, until they reach for one of the jugs of milk. the feeling is like a jab at the back of her head, and before she can even stop herself— “ wait !! ” a dainty hand raises to gentle push the jug back onto the counter. a light, apologetic smile appears on her face, eyes landing on the other, “ that’s not a good idea. it’s spoiled. you’ll ruin your drink and your day if you use it. ”
with a surprised, low grunt tony releases the creamer. and as if out of habit, a charming grin curls at his lips. “ and this is why the safest bet is to always take your coffee black. ” the old mechanic adjusts the dark - tinted sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, pinching to relieve the pressure mounting in his head. a blinding mid - morning sun glared through the cafe’s windows, angrily reflecting off the floor and threatening to aggravate his hangover. “ ‘course, the old man would never let me here the end of it if he knew how much sugar i was puttin’ into my morning coffee. ”
▐▐ ░ * . — SHE IS AN EXTROVERT’S EXTROVERT , living on the outgoing & social . alucard’s mall is the perfect setting for someone like her , to which she can spend hours threading through each store & shelf , chat up any random passerby whether they’re an employee or a patron . on any other normal day , she would be a little more focused on her wares and company than the battered-cased cellphone in her hands - because maybe she’s multitasking , SHOPPING both in person & on screen . tinder , because it’s no secret misa is always looking for a pair of arms to hold her when she doesn’t have them … but the black fingernails swiping left on each face she’s sworn she’s already seen five times of each , the furrowed brow . there’s an ULTERIOR MOTIVE .
because maybe , her angel can be found in such an easy method . but she can only scroll through the same fake fuckboy smile & the over-compensating biography before she grows tired and frustrated that none of them ring a bell ( and of course , with recent developments in gaining the eyes of a reaper , the lifespans over each similarly-cut haircut are a telling sign she hasn’t found him yet ) . honestly , she’s growing sick of it , because every ping ! she gets with ‘ hey beautiful ’ written with some emoji that is supposed to convey some sort of personality ( for lack thereof ) , she grows more & more irritated . she already has perhaps the beginnings of interests in others , anyway , but she gave this a shot - because maybe she’d find him . but to no avail .
❝ huh ?? ❞ she innocently asks , finally giving up the ghost as honey hues look towards wednesday , and plum lips drop in surprise when they focus on the item she’s gifted her with . and misa will peek into the bag , mouth still agape , and then looking up at her friend . ❝ hey - where’d you get that ! w-was it from the jeweler a while back , did anyone see you , dayday ?! ❞
the cool glow of her cellphone’s screen illuminated misa’s face in a pale light. it didn’t make much of a change to her appearance except to give her an ethereal color she thought misa already had. as if the moon always liked to look at her face no matter the time of day. wednesday was quite used to her friend’s constant stream of thought taking precedence over the present day. fingers swiping, flicking, tapping against the glass screen. she never minded patiently waiting. when you did have misa’s attention, she had a strange habit of making you feel important, even if you never really were. the darker - hued of the pair dares an amused grin as she’s finally given attention, chin landing in the palms of her hands.
“ oh, please. ” wednesday briefly finds herself thinking back to the jeweler’s candy sweet smile and saccharine voice. reminiscing on the remorseless heist of her friend’s gift. “ i don’t get caught, misa. not even the cameras dare look in my direction. sometimes i swear my mother must have been half - void. ” her own sudden words were not lost on her. the mystery of her missing family members had always felt like an open sore. it angered her that their memory pained her still. it wasn’t as if she even knew what her parents had even looked like. as if she ever really cared anyway. they had abandoned her, deserving none of the quiet anguish wednesday put herself through.
“ anyway, if any one asks -- the pearl was graciously passed down by a grandmother or some stupid shit like that. ”
“ there’s no way you’re draggin’ me all the way downtown. ” what he doesn’t tell you is that he’d rather avoid a certain fairground that is home to a certain funhouse with a certain room full of mirrors. the memory still seems branded into his mind, doomed to start -- stop when he realizes he’s thinking of himself flying again -- then start once more as if it was put there specifically to torture him. “ not with out incentive at least, ” he teases, bringing the plastic bottle of orange soda to his lips. the caffeine momentarily jolts his system and he takes in a cool breath of air.
“ wouldn’t you rather see a movie? shoot pool at some bar that smells like plumber farts? ” he doesn’t seem nervous, but tony can feel the discomfort tightening in his throat. a threat that scares him more than the memory of him flying. “ i guarantee the fairgrounds aren’t the only place you’ll find a couple of idiots tryin’ to make you laugh. ”
▐▐ ░ * . — ZELDA’S A PRIME EXAMPLE OF ‘ORGANIZED CLUTTER’ ; thick binders of messy notes , a desk with everything in its own place but still covered from each edge with papers , books , pens . a head full of so much knowledge to the point she can barely keep track of all of it - and with recent events , such is only amplified !! because now she can’t seem to focus on one simple topic , let alone one … zelda .
zelda . that is her name still , yes ?? because sometimes she hears the name hylia whispered in her dreams and it gets SMOTHERING , especially when you’re unaware where it comes from . the burning palms & thoughts of gigantic machines also do not cease , and she tries to distract herself with … real life ?? maybe . even though her distancing relationship isn’t the most fun topic , she tries to keep it on her mind , maybe mend tears where it needs to be . costume planning ?? that certainly helps , a sapphic werewolf the perfect match to what could be marinette’s little red riding hood . problem is , all of her plans were in a red binder - just a list of items with clippings out of magazines , department store locations to go for each . this red binder ALSO includes her makeshift blueprints of the creatures from her dreams … and she can’t find it . in public . where she swore it was on the table mere minutes before she turned her back . ❝ e-excuse me , ❞ she asks the other , eyes still darting around in hopes to find the binder , ❝ the red binder - there was one here , right ?? a-and where did it go ?? did you see someone take it , or maybe it fell off , or … ❞ panic . panic , panic , panic - because where are her NOTES . where are her STUDIES … what hands could they have gotten into ??
libraries seemed to make him itch, to break out in hives, to make him uncomfortably sweat beneath his collar. tony wasn’t sure if it was the stifling gaze of the librarian or the sizzling minds of the students who made their homes there. either way, what the absolute fuck was he doing there? was it some pathetic attempt to understand his dreams, the delusions he sometimes had while walking in the day time? he refused to believe he was crazy and the flashes of a memory he knew wasn’t his were merely the results of a mushy old brain. a soggy organ slow to rise and early to bed.
no, tony stark was not a drooling old man. not yet, at least. sure, he’d felt his age while waking up to aching bones, but he always blamed that on the booze. he even ignored his failing eyesight as he scanned the shelves. his thoughts rapid fire against the quiet of the yawning building.
a panicked, high pitched voice triggered a primal response in his chest. it made his heart thump wildly until he remembered they were inside a damn library and who would have a crisis in a goddamn library?
“ relax, relax, relax. ” palms held up and faced outwards in an attempt to hold back the onslaught of stress oozing from the girl he’d just encountered. tony could practically feel the panic on his own skin. “ chances are it’s been misplaced an-- ” a crimson color catches his eye, found tucked into the back seam of a chair. seemingly as though it had slid off the table and onto the seat. “ -- misplaced or its tryin’ to run away on you. ” tony pulls the object from its hiding spot, revealing it to it’s owner.
VICTOR STONE & YOUR CHARACTER, @everyone.
location: midtown.
VICTOR’S BEEN HAVING WEIRD VISIONS LATELY, of a city he doesn’t recognise. but the visions are so vivid, that he has no idea where they’re coming from, if the images are real or not. it doesn’t help that his body has been aching more and more lately; phantom pain from the accident, or at least that’s what he keeps telling himself. it doesn’t help, really doesn’t, not when some of these visions are too real to be fake, when he’s more machine than human in his visions.
HE HAD TO GO ON LEAVE FROM WORK JUST TO COPE, especially after abusing his body, going days without sleep or food. he hadn’t been this bad since the accident - he’d managed to recover after a while, but it was as if the circus had brought all of that back again. he felt mildly guilty for going on break, knowing his co-workers also weren’t doing great. so, after finishing all the errands he’s had to run and bringing boxes of pizzas as his apology gift to his coworkers, he’s just on his way to the mechanic shop when he bumps into a figure. the boxes fall to the ground, and vic winces. oops.
HE’S ACTUALLY ADMITTEDLY SPEECHLESS for a moment before finally, “ well, shit. it’s a good thing dominos has carryout insurance, i guess. ”
the sudden, sticky smell of hot pepperoni and melted cheese filled her nose, making the walls of her stomach ache with hunger. hmm, wednesday hadn’t realized how long it had been since breakfast. a measly meal of half eaten poptarts and leftover coffee. had she only forgotten? it was hard to say, sometimes she just never had enough money to spare for a shitty burger before heading home. either way, a small part of her felt guilty for the tragic murder of his pizza. greasy pools of cheese already beginning to stain the sidewalk.
“ wow, tragic. ” apologize, a gentle voice reminded her. it’s advice felt out of place and disjointed with her own learning. wednesday addams never apologized for anything simply because she never needed to. not even now with pizza grease smeared over the toes of her boots and hunger threatening to reveal itself with a mighty growl. but the voice was insistent, stern and comforting at the back of her skull. “ sorry for the sudden collision. for a second the sky seemed to yawn open and i was wondering if it’d swallow us all. ”
wednesday addams ft. alessa gillespie / those-women-in-red.
{open starter for Alessa}
“shit.”
Alessa felt a sudden dread hit her, the shadder brush in her hand having gathered enough paint at its tip to splash some across the ground as she stepped back. Her eyes flickered over the corners of the canvas, from left to right, scanning and searching for any imperfections, for that one mistake that would send a bottle of paint straight towards it.
The painting had taken the majority of two weeks. Whenever the sun was out shinning on the streets of ALUCARD, you could find an apron clad brunette carrying about an easel and an array of jarred items. Small leaves along the Pennsylvania roads, the rust that gathered along a building that had stood more than just the test of time, she once swore she could catch the morning fog that passed through too, all for the sake of authenticity.
Hell, Alessa was her own walking Harvard collection of color. She thrived off those perfect colors, ones people could identify with, that one shade of blue that could get one to say, “Hey, that reminds me of something…”
She realized, only now really, that in her sudden excitement to call her project done, that she had something was off. No matter how long she stood there, she couldn’t catch it; a block of buildings in town a florescent green, rather than a barnyard red.
Running a hand through her hair, she let out a sigh, splatters and mixtures of a corner store she had shaded earlier covering her arm and now cheek. She could hear steps behind her, and rather be her own critic, chose to get another eye on the case.
“Excuse me,” She pipped up, wiping her hand across her apron. “Do you think I could get a second opinion on this?”
“ needs more gargoyles and broken windows, something menacing. a dark figure lurking in the background or perhaps a sudden shower of rain? ” one could say wednesday had an eye for art. or maybe it was just an affinity for the dark and dreary. the morbid was always beautiful and made for enchanting subjects. alucard felt lacking in the melancholy and the overcast, never enough ghosts and ghouls. too much sunshine that left her cheeks red with sunburn.
her face, inches away from the painting, felt warm with the high afternoon sun. her brows furrowed, squinting into the mass of color on the canvas. “ there are too many of them. ” wednesday squints harder, enough to make the spot between her eyebrows ache from the strain.
“ too many colors, i mean. black and grey are perfectly suitable for a view like this one. ”
( grim, 25, est ) ─ the mirrors surrounding you did as they were meant to, reflecting back a spitting image of ROBERT DOWNEY JR. - but it’s clear something is wrong from the moment that a vision of A DESOLATE PLANET FAR FROM HOME strikes you. perhaps it was a passing daydream in the frenzy of the funhouse. you reassure yourself - you’re TONY STARK, an FORTY- EIGHT YEAR OLD MECHANIC whose virtue lies in your + INTELLIGENCE & + AMBITION, although you’ve been told that you tend to be quite - DISTANT & - ARROGANT, and you’re associated with PRETTY LITTLE DRESSED UP LIES, HANDS ROUGH STAINED BY BLACK GREASE, AMBER COLORED LIQUID by those around you. suddenly, however, you’ve found E.D.I.T.H. SUNGLASSES on your person - was that always there? from the moment you leave the funhouse, memories from your life in MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE have begun to return - leaving whoever you had been before in the mirror’s reflection behind you. you can almost hear ROOSTER by ALICE IN CHAINS following in your wake. ( he/him & cis male )
( content warning for mentions of emotional abuse, child death, alcoholism. )
you pull up at STARK AUTO PARTS and notice the rundown sign, the peeling blue paint. there’s a garage attached to the left side, it’s large white door stained with dirt and grease. it doesn’t look like alucard’s best auto parts shop, but it is. and the man who runs it is TONY STARK. a mechanic with a weight on his brow that you notice turns his pretty face sour.
howard stark was mean. he liked to take out his frustrations on his only son with sharp words and drunken tirades. howard stark was supposed to be something. but he owned a shitty auto shop that sucked up the little inheritance he had. when he died and when tony lost his mother, stark auto parts became his own. under his care, the tired little shop actually seemed to make some money.
things to know about his life in alucard:
tony grew up practically dirt poor. howard inherited a bit of money from his father and used it to open stark auto parts. unfortunately, the location left things wanting.
howard was never physically abusive. he’d never hurt his wife and son, but he had a habit of drinking so much it left him without a filter.
tony grew up hating him and preferring his mother. when they died he felt relief, but he really mourned his mother. and still does.
he didn’t bother going to university, he had a shop to run.
tony met his wife in his late 20s. they were married at town hall. three years later, his wife gave birth to their first daughter.
life was really good. tony and his wife were able to support themselves. their child slowly grew.
unfortunately, tony’s life was meant for tragedy.
his wife and daughter both die in a car accident than left tony with a lot of debilitating chronic pain.
he was driving, completely sober. the blame was placed on an exhausted nurse on their way home from the hospital. they fell asleep at the wheel and collided with tony’s car.
after his family’s death, tony became secluded in heart and body. the trauma of the accident left him with nightmares.
his drug of choice became alcohol. brown liquor to be exact. he has a serious problem that he is very good at hiding.
tony can be found practically living at his shop. he avoids going home and sleeps on a couch in his stuffy office.
upon entering the funhouse:
it was supposed to be a kinky thing. find a cute girl, follow her into the funhouse. he didn’t expect to get lost, lose her and lose his mind in the process.
the house of mirrors sent a chill down his spine, one that blossomed down his legs. watching each identical version of himself move in unison. he winks, they wink. he flips the bird, they flip the bird.
“this is bullshit. no broad is worth this creepy shit.” his visage shimmers, shifts.
he sees himself, but not quite the man he’s so used to hating in the mirror. this one looks more like he’s been bathed in liquid crystal since birth and given a silver spoon to suck on.
he hated him immediately. hated his arrogant, snarky grin.
he leaves quickly, shoving his fists into his pocket. he’s surprised when he pulls out a pair of sunglasses.
the memory hits him like a truck. the feeling of flying, the concussive thrust of a blast coming straight from his palm. both palms, in fact. it felt like too much power for a man to have. especially considering with this power he had managed to save the world.
no, not him. iron man had saved the world.
the memory haunts him, invades his dreams. replaces his nightmares with debris and an open sky and a voice in his head. a voice that felt eerily similar to the one he heard when he had tried the mysterious sunglasses on.
the memory supplies a name and calls it EDITH.
tony has no memories of his death on titan. he doesn’t remember the avengers, his time as a prisoner in the desert and what he had to become to get out. nor about his health problems with the arc reactor. he has no memories beyond the single memory of saving new york city with the rest of the avengers. he’s refused to enter the funhouse since. if he were, he’d remember the snap. he’d remember what happened afterward. giving up iron man for his daughter. risking the life he yearned for to find the kid and bring him back. save the universe, the usual crap he’s been forced to deal with.
alucard’s mall was a pathetic little shopping center with only two entrances. it was so small that most days they never bothered having security. no cops to waddle down the aisles looking for shoplifters, no handsy pigs eyeing you from a corner -- their thumbs hooked through belts strapped underneath swollen guts. it would be almost peaceful if it weren’t for the pennsylvania soccer moms and their red-faced brats. but they happily accepted wednesday’s five-finger discount here. and she rolled a new trinket between her thumb and index finger, hidden inside her pocket, as she walked from the jewelry store to the cafeteria. the pearl had sat pretty on a glass counter, lit up crystal and gold. the poor saleswoman didn’t realize it was gone until wednesday had already been five stores down.
“ here, ” she grunts -- tossing the pearl into the smallest shopping bag misa had. which admittedly had been quite a few. “ special delivery from yours truly. ” the cafeteria was mostly empty as wednesday picked a few cold fries from misa’s tray.
when draco swaggers back into his old crawl with the confidence of an entitled rich boy, he much feels like he’s stepping back into the most boring place he’s ever been in. it had been a year since he was back home in alucard, gone away for school only to be back now. being an adult had only proven to him that life was rather boring. being sent to harvard on the hopes of becoming of a lawyer, representing the less-than-deserved celebrities much like his father had been at his age had only made draco less than thrilled to even try to do anything with his life. but it’s not like he has to let the world know he’s unhappy with his life.
“glad to see absolutely nothing has changed about this shithole,” he drawls in utter, obvious sarcasm as he sits on the bar of the cafe, “anything actually interesting happen while i was gone?”
wednesday made her own fun. created her own stories and weaved together her own mayhem as she walked the streets of her small town. thoughts of leaving have -- of course -- crossed her morbid little mind. a few months ago she had taken a bus to philadelphia. the bus reeked and the city was even worse. she loved it. enjoyed the stench, the homeless ( they were very kind when wednesday asked for directions ), the late night fights that broke out in the streets. a good broken nose can leave wednesday feeling like clouds, but she was a creature of habit and dearly missed her regular haunts.
“ oh, i’m sure our good dark lord is harboring plans for our little town. ” wednesday wasn’t sure if she wanted to bring up the fairground. it left her with dreams she couldn’t make sense of. but what kind of a ghoul would she be if she didn’t mention alucard’s newest, spookiest attraction. “ the fairgrounds have grown teeth. ”
SIGHING THE BLONDE — adjusts her sunglasses in the hopes that no one would recognize her. Very RARELY did she ever venture away from the cirque. Cirque du Eradicus was like her HOME. Being part of it gave her a certain sense of familiarity and COMFORT. For once in her twenty two years she felt like she BELONGED. However, like a cat even her curiousity couldn’t be helped. There was a LOT to explore in Alucard and quite frankly she didn’t even know where to BEGIN.
❝ I’m sorry, I’m new to town. Happen to know any place a girl can get a drink around here? Or hang for a bit. Whichever comes first,❞ she chuckles speaking directly to the FIRST person that crossed her path.
tony had just neatly stuffed a pink frosted donut between his lips. it quickly disappeared down his throat and sat happily in his stomach. tony stark felt hollow and dry. maybe he was just a smidge hungover. just a smidge. day drinking at his age really left his bones feeling like stripped brakes. screaming in protest. christ, when did he get to be such an old man? it was god damn embarrassing. and he knew there was only one way to fix that.
“ there’s a decent place not far from here. booze ain’t bad. bartender could use a little work. ” he gave the girl a small smile, one that never reached his eyes. thankfully, the sun was just not ready to set yet and the old man hid his tired eyes behind sunglasses. “ you want an escort? ” maybe, he didn’t want to drink alone this time.
