#parker street studios

[luveline]

could you write a ditzy!reader with tasm peter parker -- i have a vision of them bickering and reader just saying incredibly wrong things (ala getting things confused with each other, not flat out lies) while effortlessly beating whoever theyre fighting

“You always make this look much more difficult than it is, Spider-Man!” you call.

Peter is a little busy getting his head smashed into a wall to answer you. “Fuck! Hey, man, are you trying to graduate from robber to murderer? ‘Cos you’re getting there,” he says, shooting the front of a web into the robber’s face before ducking under his arm and quickly climbing up the opposite wall. He smacks the end of the web into the buildings  and lets the guy hand there two feet off the ground, dropping down to poke at his dangling feet. “Or you could be a life-sized Christmas decoration. This is way cooler.” 

“He’s not a robber, Spider-Man,” you say. He’s surprised you don’t call him Peter, honestly. “He’s a cat burglar. They’re different.” 

“He’s not a cat burglar, he didn’t go into anyone’s house. What are you doing?” 

You’ve strung the robber’s accomplice up like a fly in a spider's web. You’re giggling as you drop down beside him, the sound only so slightly muffled by your spandex mask. “He looks tasty.” 

A honk echoes from the mouth of the alley, then a screech of tires. Peter heard a cry of, “Hey, my purse!” and then, predictably, the approach of hurried footsteps. 

“Good day for robbers,” you say conversationally. 

“Bad day for old ladies. Do you have the purse?” 

You turn to him to show the purse already slung over your shoulder, the body bumping against your hip. “It suits me, right? Hey, did you know purses keep getting bigger because women have to carry more stuff? Soon, my purse will be the size of my car.” 

“You don’t have a car. And that’s not true, purses come in a hundred different sizes.” Peter gently pushed your chest back to get a clean shot at the approaching robber. He webs him at the feet, and smirks to himself as the newcomer immediately topples forward, the stolen purse flying from his hands. “Watch your step.” 

“Delivery!” you laugh, grabbing the bag off of the ground. “Hey, we should make these guys pay for the bags, considering they’re all scuffed up and broken now. What do you think?” you ask the robber stuck to the floor, who’s now lamenting a potentially broken nose. “Aw, Spider-Man, look what you did.”

“Walk it off,” Peter advises, taking you by the shoulders to lead you out of the alleyway. He’s too tired to deal with these idiots today. “It was in the name of justice.” 

“I heard that a broken nose takes up to five months to heal. What justice is that?” 

“That’s not true.” 

“It is. I saw it on the history channel.” 

“The same channel that thinks aliens built the pyramids?” 

“Everyone’s wrong about something.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ll keep it in mind. Now where did that old lady go?” 

“There’s a Pilates studio down the street. Old people love that stuff.” 

“No, they don’t.” Peter looks at you with concern. You keep on walking, unaware of his looking nor his judgement as you emerge from the alley into the New York City hub. Peter jogs to catch up, slipping an arm between yours to anchor you to him as he says, “It’s a good thing you’re so pretty.” 

“That’s mildly insulting. It’s a good thing you’re pretty.” 

Peter can’t kiss you with the masks. He would, though. A smacker of a kiss pressed unabashed into your cheek. “You really think old people like Pilates?”

[oldiesstationlover11607]

perhaps peter has an important interview for something like a college interview or something and perhaps reader had something to do before it so couldn’t go with him (for moral support) but then she rushes through her thing to get to him and surprises him like 5 min prior, gives him a good luck kiss when his name gets called and tells him to call her after. they celebrate that night (since it went well) with pizza, a movie and cuddles.

Interview - Tom!Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!Reader

Pairing: Tom!Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!Reader

Warnings: None! Super fluffy <3

Word Count: 1,001

Note: Reader isn't Stark's daughter she's Stark's niece

A/N: I hope you like this @urmykindofwoman !!

Peter and I were in our senior year, which came with all the busy days and rough nights of writing college application essays, getting final assessments to the teachers, and booking interviews. While Peter and I were dating, we definitely weren’t going down the same career path. I had my own after-school radio show, wanting to go into something arts and humanities-based, and Peter clearly wanted to do biology and biochemistry. He wanted to go to MIT; science and technology were his whole life—especially with his ‘internship’ with Tony, who had helped him get an interview.

“Y/N? Where’s my suit?” Peter asked, running around his bedroom frantically.

“It’s over there, Pete. Relax, and you’ll do fine. I’m sure Tony put in a good word for you anyway,” I smiled.

“And you’re sure you can’t come with me? I just—this interview is a big deal for me, and if I don’t get in, then I have no idea what I’m going to do,” he said as he folded the suit and put it into his backpack.

“You know I can’t. I’ve got the radio show in an hour, and I can’t miss that,” I sighed, getting up and grabbing my bag. Peter nodded, reluctantly accepting the situation. “But make sure to call me once it’s over and let me know how it goes, okay?” I pulled him in for a quick kiss.

“I love you,” he grinned.

“Ditto, spider boy.”

I walked to the radio station to meet Ned, who had been co-hosting with me for the last few years. We didn’t have any guests for this episode, and instead, we were talking about the latest Star Wars movie that had come out. The episode lasted for an hour and a half, and I sat there staring at the clock to see if I could leave and make it to support Peter before his interview.

“And that’s our show!” Ned smiled and played the last piece of music, finally turning off our mics. “Okay, you better hurry if you’re going to be on time to surprise Peter.” I nodded, grabbing my bag and rushing out of the studio. I ran down the street towards Peter’s house, where he was doing the interview online. Knocking on the door, I noticed it was only 10 minutes before the interview started.

“Y/N?! Oh my god, what are you doing here? What about the show and Ned and—”

“I ran here when we finished. You said you wanted me for support, so I’m here, Spidey,” I grinned. Peter returned the smile, picked me up, and spun us around.

“Okay, Pete, you need to get yourself ready. They’re going to call you any second now, and you’re gonna ace it!” I pressed my lips to his in a lighthearted kiss, my hand coming up to curl his hair in my fingers. He pulled away once his computer started ringing and closed the door to his bedroom.

I sat there scrolling through my phone, hearing the hum of Peter’s voice through the door when he responded to the questions. MJ had sent me a few text messages about our English report, so I took the time to respond. About an hour later, Peter finally opened the door and walked out. I stood up excitedly, walking over to him.

“How’d it go?” His face showed no emotion, and my mind raced through all the possibilities. I’d put him off his game by surprising him, hadn’t I? Peter was going to hate me, and Tony was going to be so disappointed in Peter. It was all my fault.

“They said it was a pleasure to meet me,” a small smile grew on his face, and he looked shell-shocked, completely unsure of how to act.

“Oh my god, Peter, yes!” I screamed, running into his arms. “We need to celebrate! I’ll call Tony and organize something. We are 100% having a pizza party with the others.”

“You’re too good for me, Y/N.” Peter pressed a kiss to my cheek as I pulled out my phone to call my uncle.

“Hi, Tony. Yes, Peter did well in his interview. I’m wondering if we can order pizza and invite the others for a movie to celebrate?” Peter placed kisses across my jaw and down my neck, smiling with each press of his lips.

“Okay, I’ll call them and make sure they’ll be there,” Tony responded.

“Tell him I say hi,” Peter mumbled.

“Peter says—”

“I can hear him, Y/N. Tell him to watch where he puts those hands. Be here by 6, okay?” Tony laughed before hanging up. Peter pulled away and looked up at me with a questioning expression.

“Stark Tower at 6.”

“God, I love you,” he grinned.

“I know you do,” I said, getting everything I needed for dinner.

“That was 100% a Star Wars reference, wasn’t it?” Peter pointed to his Empire Strikes Back poster, and I nodded, trying to suppress my laughter. Peter shot out a web to pull me close to him again.

“You’re a nerd, you know that, Parker?”

“As if you’re any worse; you’ve got that Stark blood in you. I can smell it with my spider-sense—”

“Your Peter tingle,” I interrupted. He let out a loud and annoyed sigh.

“And you’ve ruined the moment.”

“You ruined it yourself, spider boy.”

//

Please submit any requests y'all have! I love to write so let me know if you've got any!

[pxnsneverland]

Heartbreak Hotel | austin!elvis x oc (part 2)

(gif source: violaobanion)

plot summary: Angel Casteel is a small town girl who lucked into working as a costume designer at a film studio. Unfortunately, her confidence in herself wavers as she is assigned to work with Elvis on his latest motion picture. Overcome by his star power at first, she slowly starts to realize there is a man behind the fame, a man she understands. But as they grow closer, the world grows more turbulent, especially Elvis's world. Will this Angel be able to save Elvis from himself and the people around him? Or will getting mixed up in his word prove to be her downfall as well?

Part 1

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 2664

warnings/notes: N/A

Chapter 2: A Bullet, a Tear, and a Silent Room

  Weeks of filming on Elvis's movie had passed, and Angel had become his regular companion. Their evenings often ended just as this one began, with drives down the glittering streets of Los Angeles or quiet dinners in tucked-away restaurants that Elvis knew would offer them some semblance of privacy. Their bond grew deeper with each shared sunset ride, dinner conversation, and moment spent away from the glare of the spotlight.

On one of the days where filming was paused, Elvis had invited Angel to his trailer. They were standing outside of the trailer joined by Elvis’s father Vernon, his cousins Jerry and Billy, and Colonel Parker. The group was lively, sharing stories and hearty laughs. Vernon was recounting tales from Elvis's childhood, embellishing them with a fondness only a father could muster, while Jerry and Billy chimed in with their memories of mischief and mayhem they had caused together. Colonel Parker was the only one who seemed unimpressed by Angel’s presence. When she was around Elvis, Colonel Parker always had a peculiar look in his eyes. It was a gaze that said, "You don't belong here." Angel developed a quick mistrust of him, but didn’t let it on to Elvis. After all, he worshiped the man.

Despite this, she tried to stay focused on the conversations around her. Elvis seemed oblivious to the tension, laughing heartily at a joke his cousin Billy had just cracked. The trailer was filled with memorabilia and photographs from Elvis’s career, each telling a story of triumph and nostalgia. Angel felt a pang of gratitude for being included in such a personal aspect of Elvis’s life.

After a while, Elvis pulled her aside into a quieter corner of the trailer. "You alright?" he asked softly, concern lacing his voice.

Angel nodded, though she hesitated for a moment before answering. "Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just not sure the Colonel likes me very much."

Elvis's expression shifted slightly. "I know he can be a bit intense," he admitted. "But he's been with me through everything. Gotta trust him, you know?"

"I know," Angel replied, though her voice carried a trace of doubt.

Elvis caught the hint of uncertainty in her voice and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Angel,” he began, his voice low and earnest, “you’re here because I want you here. I’ll handle the Colonel, alright? Don’t you worry about him.”

Angel nodded. Despite the reassurance, she couldn't shake off the feeling of being an outsider in Colonel Parker’s eyes. Still she managed a smile towards Elvis. “Alright. I’ll trust you. For now.” She smirked at her tease.

Elvis's answering smile was contagious, his eyes lighting up in a way that eased some of her concerns. "That's the spirit," he chuckled, leading her back to the group. His arm settled comfortably around her shoulders as they rejoined the group. The lively conversation had died down as everyone’s attention was turned towards the television.

“What’s happened?” Elvis questioned.

Jerry pointed to the TV. Elvis sat on the couch while Jerry cranked up the volume on the television. The news was on, and Cronkite, the news anchor, had a somber expression. “Officers also reportedly chased and fired on a radio-equipped car containing two white men,” he said over the speakers, “Dr. King was standing on the balcony of his second-floor hotel room tonight when, according to a companion, a shot was fired from across the street.”

Angel sat down gently next to Elvis, speechless. The room fell silent as the gravity of the news sunk in. Elvis’s face, usually so full of light and laughter, darkened with a mix of confusion and sorrow. The rest of the group shifted uncomfortably, the earlier jovial mood shattered by the harsh intrusion of reality.

Elvis' eyes were getting red and filled with tears as he stared at the television. “Dr. King. He always spoke the truth.”

Angel grasped Elvis's hand. He grasped it hard before bringing her down and placing her head on his shoulder. Angel only allowed herself to be stunned for a few seconds before calming down. As they continued to watch the news, he ran his palm up and down her arm.

“They rushed the 39-year-old Negro leader to a hospital,” Cronkite continued, “where he died to a bullet wound to the neck.”

Jerry made a shaky motion with his head. “Unbelievable. To shoot someone just because you don’t like what they say.”

“People have been shot for less,” Angel commented.

Elvis sniffled, and his grasp on her tightened. He remained looking at the TV, his eyes gleaming and unblinking. “When I was young and still lived in a negro neighborhood, I used to hear the most wonderful music comin’ from the church tent. The soul and heart of a community flowed out through gospel music that could be heard for blocks. Dr. King fought for that heart and soul, for a world he could see that was better than the one we have.”

Angel raised my head. “What are you thinkin’, Elvis?”

“We need to do somethin’,” Elvis said as he met Angel’s eyes. “Say somethin’.” He returned his gaze to the television. “What happened to Dr. King, what’s happenin’ in the world…it ain’t nothin’ to stay quiet about.”

“Now, now, my boy,” came Colonel Parker from his space on the opposite couch. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. What has happened here, it is tragic, yes. Very tragic. But one in your position must stay out of politics.”

Elvis crinkled his brow staring at Colonel Parker as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “How could you say that?”

“I am doing what I always do. I am looking out for you and publicly addressing this assassination nonsense will have the police all over you again.”

Vernon ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Maybe Colonel is right, Elvis…”

Elvis shook his head. “No, no that ain’t right, Daddy. This is bigger than me, it’s about what’s right.” He stood up, his frame casting a shadow across the room as the television flickered in the background. “Dr. King was about peace and equality. If I have a platform that can help share that message, how can I stay silent?”

Angel watched him, pride swelling in her chest. She knew the risk of speaking out, especially in an era where everything you said could be twisted and used against you. But here he was, willing to stand up for what he believed in. It reminded her why she was drawn to him in the first place - beyond the charm and the fame.

Colonel Parker scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re talking about alienating half your audience, Elvis. You think this won’t impact your career? Your shows? Your endorsements? Your pictures are already selling out the box office less and less. Do this and they’ll toss us off this lot for good.”

Elvis stood to his feet, his face red and fists clenched. A mask of battling emotions ran over his face before he stormed out of the trailer. Angel glared at Colonel Parker as if she could stab him with just her eyes before following Elvis out of the trailer. She found him pacing back and forth angrily on the makeshift lawn they had made outside. Elvis's hands were balled into fists, his jaw clenched as he continued to pace. His frustration seemed to radiate off him in waves, and the cool night air did little to quell the storm brewing within him.

Angel approached slowly, her heart aching for the man before her. She reached out, her hand gently touching his arm. He stopped pacing and turned to face her, his expression softening as he met her gaze.

“I can’t just sit back and do nothing,” Elvis said, the passion in his voice clear. “How can I look at myself in the mirror if I don't use what I have for good?”

Angel nodded, understanding his turmoil. “I know,” she said softly. "And that's one of the things I admire about you. You have a big heart, Elvis. But sometimes the best thing to do isn’t the right thing.”

“So you don’t think I should say anything either?”

“I didn’t say that. Say something, maybe just don’t say it all.”

Elvis paused, considering her words. His expression was one of a man torn between his ideals and the realities of his position. "Maybe you're right," he conceded eventually, his voice low. "Maybe there's a way to do this smartly. To stand for something without turning it into a war."

Angel smiled gently, relieved to see him thinking strategically rather than letting his emotions get the better of him. "Exactly," she said encouragingly.

Elvis smiled bringing his hands up to cup Angel’s face. He placed a small kiss on her forehead. “This is why I need you around.” Elvis leaned back, still holding Angel's face gently in his hands. "You keep me grounded," he murmured with a tired yet sincere smile. The stress lines that had furrowed his brow earlier seemed to soften under the comforting glow of the porch light.

Angel felt a blush creep up to her cheeks. She knew how she felt about Elvis, how much she had enjoyed being by his side and how much she wanted to stay there. But she could only dream about his feelings for her. She didn’t dare do more than that. The night air grew cooler as they stood there, the quiet surrounding them like a comforting blanket. Elvis's gaze held hers, intense yet gentle, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause on its axis.

In that suspended stillness, Elvis’s voice broke through the silence, softer now, but with an undeniable weight. "Angel, I've been thinkin' a lot lately—about where I'm goin', what I'm doin'. And you're always there, somehow part of my thoughts.”

Angel’s heart raced. “Elvis...” she whispered back.

Elvis took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving hers. "I don't know what the future holds or how much I can change the world, but I know this—I want you in my life, Angel. Not just now, but as long as you'll have me."

Angel's breath caught in her throat. Her emotions were a whirlwind. “What are friends for?” She chuckled nervously. She wouldn’t hope he meant something more. She couldn’t hope.

A touch of melancholy lined Elvis’s features. "No, Angel...”

"I should get some sleep," she quickly interjected, “Big day tomorrow.”

Elvis’s hand tightened slightly on her arm, holding her back. “Wait, Angel. Please.” His voice was earnest, pleading.

But she didn’t turn back around. She kept walking quickening her pace as the tears started to fall. No. She wouldn’t hope. He was on another planet and she was just here on Earth. Her heart beat faster in her chest. Whatever she felt would disappear, it had to.

A few days passed and Angel made it impossible to be caught alone with Elvis. Every time he tried, she would make sure she was busy. Even fixing his wardrobe was done quietly with none of their usual banter. Elvis noticed the change immediately. The laugh that used to brighten his day was muted, and her smile, once so quick and warm, now seemed forced at best. It hurt him more than he expected, this distance she had put between them. He tried to respect it, to give her the space she obviously needed, but it gnawed at him, this gap that had formed out of a confession he hadn’t even gotten a chance to make.

One afternoon, during a break in rehearsals, Elvis found Angel adjusting costumes in the back room. She was rearranging a sequined jacket when he quietly stepped in. The sound of his footsteps on the wooden floor made her tense up, her posture stiffening as she pretended to be engrossed in her task.

“Angel,” Elvis started, his voice gentle, trying to bridge the gap that had formed between them. “We need to talk.”

She didn’t look up, focusing intently on a stubborn thread. “There’s nothing to talk about, Elvis. I’m just here to do my job.”

He moved closer until he was standing right behind her. “Since when did us being us become just a job?”

Finally, she looked up, meeting his gaze in the mirror’s reflection. Her eyes were guarded, but he could still see the hurt hidden deep within them. “It’s always been my job,” she whispered.

Elvis’s heart sank at her words, the weight of them heavier than any lyric he'd ever sung. With a step closer, he placed his hands gently on her shoulders. “No, Angel, it wasn’t,” he countered softly.

“It should have been. You’re a superstar and I’m just a costume designer. Our friendship was wrong in the first place. It should’ve stayed professional.”

Elvis’s reflection in the mirror showed a man grappling with emotion, his usual confidence replaced by a vulnerability that made him seem almost unrecognizable. “That’s not how I see it. I ain’t never seen it that way.”

Angel’s eyes filled with tears, her resolve wavering under his earnest gaze. “Elvis, please don’t,” she pleaded softly, turning away from the mirror to face him directly. “I can’t be another one of your fleeting distractions.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“You can have any girl, Elvis. Any girl. And it’s no secret to anyone that you’ve had more than your fair share. Why would you think any different of me?”

Elvis took her hands in his, the sequined jacket forgotten on the floor beside them. “Yes, there have been others, but none of them have ever touched my heart the way you do.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Elvis's gaze intensified, his grip on her hands firm, yet gentle. “I don’t, Angel. I’ve never felt this way before.” Angel shook her head trying to pull away, but Elvis held on. "Please," he implored, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. "Don't shut me out. Not now. Not when I'm finally bein’ honest.” It had been years since he had let his emotions spill over like this. The last time he could remember was when his mother had died.

Angel’s resistance faltered as she looked into his pleading eyes. The Elvis standing before her was not the confident showman the world adored but a man stripped of his veneer, vulnerable and sincere.

"You really mean that, don't you?" she murmured, her voice barely audible over the thrumming of her heart.

"I've never been more serious about anythin’ in my life," Elvis replied earnestly.

Angel's features softened, her defenses slowly crumbling under the weight of his words. The distance she had meticulously maintained over the past few days seemed trivial now, irrelevant in the face of his confession. Tears brimmed in her eyes, spilling over as she finally allowed herself to believe him. "Elvis, I—I don't know what to say."

"Just say you believe me," Elvis urged gently, a hopeful note threading through his voice as he wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

She took a deep breath, steadying the tumultuous emotions within her. "I believe you," she whispered.

Elvis's face broke into a relieved smile, one that reached all the way to his eyes, lighting them up in a way that Angel hadn't seen in days. “So you’ll be my girl?”

Angel hesitated, the gravity of the question anchoring her to the spot. She knew what this meant, the depth of commitment that question carried in its wake. “Yeah, I’ll be your girl,” she finally whispered back.

Elvis pulled back slightly to look at her, his eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he leaned in and kissed her gently on the lip, sweet and affirming. The kiss lingered, a promise sealed between them. It was gentle, tender—far from the passionate, showy kisses that Elvis was famous for on screen. This was real, raw, and it spoke of truth.

Stay tuned for part 3!! Click HERE to view!

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 3

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic asshole. After their moment at the wrap party, Tom shows up at Parker's bookstore. How is it possible someone can be such an asshole when asking for a favor?

read the story here: prev / next

Two weeks later finds the weather outside shifting with the first hint of autumn; cooler temperatures in the morning greet Parker when she walks to work, and the coffee shop next door has started advertising their new fall drinks of pumpkin spice and cinnamon tea. She's seen her brother every day since the wrap party—partly because he always makes a point of taking some down time after finishing a movie to recover from his stunts, and partly because her and Jody have become fast friends—but she hasn't seen Tom since their moment in the bathroom.

She suspects that's for the best. The internet is flooded with paparazzi photos of him flouncing around town with models every other day, and she's still trying to forget how natural it felt to laugh with him.

But despite her brother's newly open schedule, and Jody's constant pestering to go spend a day at the beach, Parker finds her bookstore just as empty as always.

There are a few stragglers here and there throughout the day. Sometimes she gets lucky when a tour bus stops for gas and snacks, allowing an ensemble of tacky dressed tourists to flood her street for twenty minutes. On unlucky days, Mr. Chamberlain will stop in to peruse her historical section; but he doesn't have any sort of schedule or income, and those visits consist entirely of him describing last night's CSI episode to Parker before trying to set her up with his grandson. Once he bought a book from her dollar bin. He attempted to return it three days later.

On days like today, Parker is visited by a sixteen-year-old named Melissa who hangs out every so often while her mom attends overpriced Pilates in the studio down the block.

"...and then Peter was all 'no, sorry Mandy, I'm not interested". Like, hello! My name is Melissa and we've lived in the same neighborhood since we were four," said teenager was droning on from her spot atop the upcycled reading chair in the corner. She never failed to impress Parker with how much she could talk—the stories quite literally never stopped coming—while at the same time she managed to read about four books a week. Parker suspected that Melissa's brain represented something like the Rainbow Road in Mario Kart, when the music got a little too fast and the turns were a little too hard to keep up with. "Now, I have no idea what I'm going to do. There's no one else for me to ask since it's three weeks away."

Parker, only half-listening to the story, hummed from her spot two rows back. She had won several boxes of books at a local auction about a month ago and had done a pretty good job at pretending they didn't exist.

Ignoring the problem only lasted so long, however, and this morning she had ended up spilling coffee all over herself when her sneaker caught the edge of the box. Pride—and knees—damaged, she decided to tackle the issue first thing in the morning.

It was now four in the afternoon, and the books were mocking her.

"Can't you just go alone?" she asked.

"Go alone? Are you crazy! That's, like, really sad, Park," Melissa explained. She couldn't see her, but Parker could feel the judgmental look the teen girl was giving her. "Only losers go alone to dances."

"Baby did it."

"Who?"

"Baby. You know? You don't put Baby in a corner? That one."

A tut. "You should really update your references."

"Jesus. Since when did Dirty Dancing become an outdated reference?" she muttered while inspecting the spine of a mystery novel from the 70s. It had definitely seen better days, and when she shifted it, three pages fell out. Parker tossed it into the TRASH box with a sigh. "Is going to a dance with your friends considered outdated too?"

"That's the same thing as going alone," Melissa groaned.

"How? You're literally not alone."

"Because if I go with my friends, that means that I couldn't get anyone that wasn't a friend to agree to go with me. I don't need the whole school thinking that I'm a total loser."

"I went with my friends and had a blast. And I'm not a loser."

There was no response other than silence, and after a few moments Parker realized that if Melissa had nothing to say about the subject, she likely had nothing nice to say.

She cleared her throat before moving onto the next, and final, box hoping that there would be better books in it. So far, her KEEP pile was looking pathetically small compared to what was about to be binned. With a forced change of conversation, she asked, "hey, you grew up here, right?"

"Sure."

"Did you know the Sawyers?"

"Like, Miss Sawyer? Down on Oakcrest?"

"The fancy old house with the bushes shaped like dogs. I bought a bunch of books at her estate sale, and so far, they all suck. I thought she was supposed to be a big collector or something."

The sound of Melissa humming echoed throughout the empty store, and Parker peeked around the bookshelves to spot the girl lying upside down on the chair; Doc Martens stuck up in the air, long ponytail hanging to the ground as she played on her phone.

Parker rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, totally. But she collected those kid's books. Original copies or whatever. Mom said she paid hundreds of thousands of dollars for some rabbit book."

"...Peter Rabbit?"

"I guess," Melissa shrugged. There was a loud smack of gum popping before her voice rang out, "she did a bunch of donations to local art musuems and galleries and stuff. A phila-something—"

"Philanthropist?"

"—and there was some big deal about her donating everything to some charity. Mom was talking about it. Which, like, good for them or whatever but I don't understand how donating an old book is helping solve world hunger."

Parker let her head drop against the beat-up cardboard box in front of her, something despondent and miserable sitting on her chest at the realization that she had wasted time and money on nothing but crap. "Well, I wish I knew that before I went into a bidding war over this garbage. Are the Hardy Boys still cool or is that dated too?"

A judgmental laugh floated back. "Um, their name is pronounced Hemsworth, Park."

"I meant—" she started, before realizing that this was a battle she was never going to win, and even if she wanted to try the musty smell resonating from these boxes of crap had burned through her daily allowance of braincells. Something Melissa didn't seem to worry about as she puffed from her vape pen. "Forget it."

Not so shockingly, Melissa did not, in fact, forget it. Instead, she spent the next ten minutes describing in scary detail each Hemsworth brother, their looks on a scale of one to ten, their best movies, and why Chris was the dreamiest of them all. His hair and eyes were a big selling point, apparently, and as Parker listened to the teenager drone on, she couldn't help but wonder if Chris Hemsworth used box dye too.

So wrapped up in her own world of book sorting, Parker didn't notice when the front door opened with a tinkle of the bell until the shop went eerily quiet. Melissa, it seemed, had finally found a reason to shut up.

"I never liked Chris all that much," Parker said as she slowly gathered the KEEP bin and hefted it off the floor. Her lower back ached at the strain. Jesus, maybe I am old. Moving towards the front counter, she continued musing, "There's something about him in the first Thor movie, when his eyebrows were all bleached, that kind of turned me off. I think there's a word for that, right? The ew or something...."

She spots Melissa first.

The girl is sitting upright in the chair now, face flushed a deep scarlet red with a book held tightly in her lap as she pretends to read through it. Her phone and vape are nowhere to be seen, and she doesn't so much as glance up when Parker strides by.

"What happened to you?" she asks with an amused quirk of the brow. Melissa doesn't respond, and Parker turns to set the heavy box of books on the front counter when she spots the other person in the room. "Oh, sorry. I was in the back. Can I help—?"

It shouldn't surprise her as much as it does, but Parker blinks to find Tom Ryder standing on the other side of the counter staring at her with raised brows.

Tom fucking Ryder.

He looks better than the last time she ran into him. He has a nice tan going underneath a funky pair of yellow sunglasses that are, in her opinion, too big for his face. They look a little absurd with the whitewashed denim jacket he's wearing, but the yellow matches the bedazzled t-shirt he has on underneath, so she suspects it's some sort of fashion statement. Paired with an expensive pair of well-polished boots, it all looks quite absurd standing in the middle of her dilapidated bookstore.

Even more so when Parker realizes she's wearing nothing but a pair of cheap cargo shorts and an oversized Twilight sweatshirt that was covering the coffee-stained shirt underneath. (Team Jacob, always).

"Tom. Um... are you looking for Colt or something?"

In typical Ryder fashion, he ignores her question entirely to do a slow spin; blue eyes tinted by his glasses trailing over everything in sight. She can feel the judgement from across the counter, and when he finally fixes his sights back on her, his smirk is rage inducing. "This is your store. Seriously?"

Parker promptly plants her hands onto her hips with a scathing glare.

"Ok, what do you want?"

"Jesus, no wonder this place is empty," he drawls, a pointed smile tossed towards Melissa's prone form as he leans an elbow onto the counter. At being noticed, the teenager ducks her head behind the spine of her book as if she had just been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. "Do you talk to all your customers like that?"

"Just the assholes," she retorts. Over Tom's shoulder she catches Melissa's book dropping down two inches, and the girl's face is completely aghast.

What are you doing! she mouths, that's Tom Ryder!

Parker rolls her eyes. As if she didn't know who the blinged-out asshole standing in her store was. Speaking of—he's still standing there smirking at her. "That's you, if I wasn't clear. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Tom snorts. "I think I got that after the fifth time you said it."

"And yet..." she gestures vaguely to him, then to her store.

Because he's never behaved like a normal person, however, Tom doesn't seem to mind the insult or the offhand comment that she didn't want to deal with him. Instead, he smiles while his gaze drifts from judging the bookstore to judging Parker. He gives her a glance over—up, down, lingering on her oversized sweatshirt, before going back up—and finishes with a snort. "If the door hits me, I'm suing for damages, and I doubt you could afford the lawsuit. Let alone a lawyer."

God! What. a. fucking. asshole!

Parker bites back the insult knowing that it won't do any good. They've played this game before, and clearly being called an asshole seemed to have lost some of its bite over the weeks. So instead, she forcefully returns her attention to the cardboard box and slowly starts sorting the books into categories. "Fine. Can you just tell me what you want so I can get back to my life?"

He shifts against the counter and over the mustiness she catches a waft of his cologne when he grabs a book at random from her pile. "Why else do people come to a bookstore? I want a book."

Parker snorts. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Seriously, what do you want?"

There's a moment of silence. She glances up to find him pointedly ignoring her as he flips through the book at random.

"You're... serious?"

He shrugs. "You said you have a bunch of sci-fi books."

"I'm surprised you even remember that given the whole," she sticks a finger into her mouth and mimes throwing up. He doesn't find it funny or cute and responds with a disgusted glare. Parker rolls her eyes with a shake of the head. "It was a—never mind. Why not order off of Amazon? I thought you said you've never even been to a bookstore before?"

This time, it's his turn to roll his eyes. He drops the book with a thwack before turning his attention to the overstuffed bookshelves at her left. At random, he starts ambling towards one. "You should be flattered that I picked your little store to start. Most people would kill to say that you know. Tom Ryder explores rundown bookstore in the shitty side of LA. If you had a picture, the paps would run it in every paper by tomorrow morning," he huffs.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to document this monumental occasion forever," she snarks, but follows after him anyway. His pattern is half-hearted; poking books here and there, glancing for hardly a second, before moving on. "And my store isn't rundown. It just has some... character."

He snorts over his shoulder. "That's what a Mom says when her daughter is ugly."

"Don't you go through PR training or something?" she scoffs as he diverts to a different aisle. "I can't imagine Gail would like to hear that particular opinion if I sold it to TMZ."

"Gail would sue you for everything you own," he laughed while flipping through an old copy of Gone with the Wind. Parker crosses her arms at him with a glare, and in response Tom flashes a too-white smile at her. "She freaked out about the mink rug, by the way. Was screaming and everything. It was hilarious."

Parker's heart stopped in her chest, but when there was no continuation of the joke—haha I can't wait to see you served with papers!—she furrowed her brows at him. "You didn't tell her it was my fault?"

A shrug as he shoved the book against her chest.

She huffed, turning the book over to check for damages, but when he turned his back... well, a part of her did wonder why he would keep that a secret if it was such a big deal. Was it to be nice? Or so he could hold it over her head indefinitely? Then again, if this was his attempt at blackmail, letting it go for two weeks seemed like the wrong way to go about it.

Deciding not to linger on unsolvable riddles, Parker returned the book to the end cap he had found it on and asked, "so, does this mean you've decided to audition for that sci-fi part after all?"

Her question went unanswered as Tom paused in front of the SEX & SEXUALITY section. He pulled a wrinkled copy of Fifty Shades of Grey off the shelf and waggled his brows at her pointedly. "Keeping the good stuff for yourself, huh?"

Parker responded by snagging the book out of his hand and stuffing it back into place. "You break it, you buy it applies here too, Ryder."

"Half this place is broken," he said with a pointed glance at the flickering overhead light. "I still can't believe you own this shithole."

"I happen to love this bookstore—"

"Oh, trust me, I can believe that you would own a bookstore," he said, and while there was nothing insulting about owning a bookstore on its own, the way that Tom spoke made it clear that owning a bookstore was not something he held in high regard. Then again, he spent all his time reading shitty scripts, so what would he know? "I just can't believe that you would own this bookstore. Like, you actually paid money for this place?"

"If you have to know, I used to be friends with the owner, and got a good deal on the property," she started to explain. He raised his brows at her while slowly perusing the RELIGION section, and Parker shook herself. She didn't need to explain anything to him of all people. The reminder helped her find some confidence, and she fluttered her hands at him irritably. "You know what—I don't need to explain myself to you. You've never even been to a bookstore before. What would you know about making sacrifices for something you believed in?"

Tom paused in his search. She saw his jaw clench, and eyes droop towards the creaky wooden floor beneath his shiny boots, and his comment from the other day drifted back to mind.

"You can be a real asshole sometimes, too, he had said.

And while guilt did block her throat up a bit—fucking asshole couldn't even let her defend herself without feeling bad about it—this time he didn't make any such reprimands. Instead, he just shrugged, before diving deeper into the store.

He cleared his throat. "I just expected it be nicer coming from you."

"Does something about me secretly scream rich girl to you?"

Tom harrumphed. "Trust me, no one is mistaking you for rich. Uptight, however..."

"Oh, ha, hilarious, Tom. God! You're such an asshole," she laughed, but it was a mean sound, paired with a mean insult. It failed to have the desired effect, however. In fact, Tom seemed to have shifted from hating the insult to owning it and looked far too amused for her liking. Frustrated, Parker decided the best plan of extermination was a straightforward shot. Through gritted teeth, she asked, "...what kind of sci-fi book do you want?"

The rhinestones on his shoulders sparkled as he shrugged. "I don't know. I need to understand what gets nerds so fucking excited about this shit. Not too nerdy, though. Alright? I'm not trying to be a Trekkie or whatever."

There were so many things wrong with that statement that Parker wasn't sure what to pick first. So, she pinched the bridge of her nose to point out, "I have a feeling the so-called nerds making up your potential fanbase aren't going to appreciate being talked about like that."

"Who's gonna tell them—you?" he asked with a derisive glance over.

It was definitely true what they said about Tom Ryder; his effect on women was instantaneous. Parker just doubted the tabloids were talking about migraines.

"The sci-fi section is on the right," she sighed while pushing past him. It was one of the larger sections she had; it hadn't been a lie to say the books weren't selling all that well despite being her favorite. "What have you read before?"

The blank look he gave her was response enough.

"Ah, right, maybe... Altered Carbon?"

"Isn't that a tv show?"

"Well, yeah, but it was a book first."

He glanced at the book in her hand, but clearly wasn't impressed. Leaning on the shelf, he said, "why the hell would I read that if I could just watch it?"

"Sound logic," she tutted with a narrow eyed look. Parker returned the book with an eyeroll. "Fahrenheit 451?"

"Read it in high school. Not impressed."

She trailed the shelf while muttering, listing books in her head before subconsciously crossing them off the list of something he was likely to read and enjoy. "I guess that means you wouldn't like The Illustrated Man or The Martian Chronicles," she said to herself.

His arm brushed her aside to pluck out a familiar novel. "Nerds love this," he said while already flipping through the pages. She was surprised the size didn't scare him off immediately.

"Nu-uh. No way," she shook her head.

"What?"

"Dune is not a starter book."

He furrowed his brows crossly. "You don't think I'm smart enough to read this shit or something?"

You shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answers to, her mother's voice echoed in the back of her head.

"Reading Dune as your first sci-fi book is like jumping straight into the deep end," she told him in a much more diplomatic approach. "If a sixteen year old wants to start drinking, you don't give him scotch, you give him a fruity cocktail."

Tom huffed; first through his nose and then through his mouth but stuffed the book back onto the shelf anyway. To which Parker then had to put it back on the correct shelf with a huff of her own.

"Don't be a baby and just trust me that Dune isn't a starter book. Okay?"

"Well—what is? You're supposed to be the expert here."

"If you weren't so picky it would be a lot easier..." she deadpanned but returned to her search anyway. Tom didn't seem to like waiting, and scowled at her as she shifted past him. She ignored him as best she could while squatting down to the lower shelves. "Arthur C. Clarke is one of the best sci-fi writers. He established a lot of rules that still exist in writing today. And films."

Parker pulled one of his novels, before moving towards Asimov, and then finally to Sagan. They were all slimmer novels than Dune, but no less complicated.

"Contact is my favorite," she said, shoving the books into Tom's arms. His denim was rough on her hands, and she tried not to think about how feverishly warm his skin had been the last time she had been this close to him. Swallowing, Parker remained on task. "But any of these should be good starter books for you to get into sci-fi with."

He glanced at the choices warily. "My audition is next week."

"Then I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to finish these if you're really serious about wanting to get that role," she chirped.

Together, they wound back towards the front counter. The TRASH boxes sat in the middle of the aisle, and she carefully toed them to the side before trailing past. While she was pretty sure he had been joking about suing her, a workplace hazard was the last thing she needed.

"How do you remember all of this?"

"Where stuff is? I spend almost all of my time arranging books. I'm uptight, remember?"

She felt more than saw his eyeroll. "These books, the authors. You, like, know everything about them."

Parker paused. It definitely wasn't a compliment, but it definitely felt like it could have been. Then again, this was Tom Ryder. When she glanced up from the counter, she found that he already has his nose back in his phone, and the conundrum of compliment versus not was thrown out the window. Parker shot him an unimpressed look to say, "please tell me that you're not on SparkNotes right now."

It was his turn to pause. "I'm just... reading the descriptions."

"Maybe that's why you can't understand why nerds like these books," she argued, hands planted firmly on her hips now. "Why would I go to watch one of your movies if I already looked the plot up on Wikipedia?"

He ignored her point entirely to smirk. "So, you do see my movies?"

"Goodbye, Tom."

"Relax. I'm not going to spoil them, alright? What's the fun in that when I could read them instead, and then leave you a bad review when the books end up being awful?"

"You mean have your assistants leave me a bad review."

He didn't seem impressed at the jab but didn't defend himself either. Most likely because they both knew she was right. Parker shot him a smug smile that he promptly rolled his eyes at. "Hilarious. Just tell me how much the books cost so I can leave before stepping on a rusty nail or something."

"Didn't you see the sign out front? Can't come in without a tetanus shot due to liability reasons."

There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, but when she glanced up at him, Tom was wiping a hand down his face. "How much for the books, smartass?"

Parker was pretty sure she could upsell him. There was no way that he knew those three books, decades old with ripped pages, were only worth fifteen bucks together. And with all the Gucci name brand bullshit that he wore, she was pretty sure she could get away with telling him the price was a hundred dollars and he wouldn't even blink an eye.

But he was also a customer, a somewhat work acquaintance, and someone she really didn't want to hang around any longer than necessary. Not to mention her brother's pseudo boss, and someone that knew she was guilty of wrecking a far more expensive rug than she could ever pay to fix.

"Just consider them a loan," she said before she could second guess herself. When Tom raised his eyebrows so high they disappeared into his hairline, she waved a hand at him while half-heartedly returning to her job of book sorting. "If you're that put-off by it you can always pay me an agent's fee if you get the part."

He stared at her for a long moment, not necessarily computing, definitely hearing static, before Tom spared her an over-the-top eyeroll that surely had to have hurt to perform.

From his pocket he pulled out a couple of crumpled bills and slapped them onto the counter. He didn't even look at how much money it was. Just shook his head at her, glasses bobbing on his nose, before he was on his way out the door.

"Hey! Don't you want your change—?"

The door shut with a ting.

On the counter sat seventy-three dollars. Parker wasn't sure if she should be offended or complimented.

From outside there was the sound of an obnoxiously loud car engine revving, alongside the thrum of music, before it tore off down the street.

"What a fucking asshole," she grumbled with the shake of her head.

But it wasn't exactly an asshole thing to do, when she thought about it. And she would know; every exchange they had since being introduced had Tom acting like an asshole to her.

Or, well, not every exchange. Not when he had been, almost, nice to her at Gail's party, if only for a few moments when no one else was around.

"OH. MY. GOD!" a shrill voice shrieked across the store, bouncing off of bookshelves, as two boots went crashing towards the window. Parker was reminded in no gentle terms that they had not, in fact, been alone when Melissa smudged her face against the glass to peer out onto the street. "Holy shit! That was Tom Ryder! Tom Ryder! Are you kidding me right now? TOM. RYDER."

"Yeah, Jesus, I know who that was," she winced, pinching her ear when she thought the girl's high pitch yelp may have burst an eardrum. There was definitely a ringing as Melissa tromped around.

"You—he—I can't believe after all of this time you never once mentioned that you're friends with Tom freaking Ryder!" she squeaked.

"Well, hang on, we're not—"

"How long have you known him? How do you know him? Do you have his phone number? Ohmygod everyone is going to flip when I tell them that you know him. Tom Ryder!" Melissa shouted, phone already in hand as she started typing. "My friend, my dear friend and favorite bookstore owner, is best friends with Tom Ryder! Did you see his latest movie, Good Cop, Bad Dog? Ugh! He's so hot!"

"We're not friends," she said immediately, not even bothering to dispute the fact that Good Cop, Bad Dog was a puff piece in an attempt to market him for younger fans. "He's actually kind of an asshole."

The teenager shot Parker a scandalized look, mouth popped open into an O as her brows lifted to her hairline. "What? Are you kidding me right now? He just drove all the way out here to ask for your recommendation for a sci-fi book! His house is, like, fifty minutes from here with traffic. Don't call him that when you just became so cool."

Parker frowned. "How do you know where he lives?" she asked, before adding with much more intensity, "hang on a second, am I not cool?"

But Melissa was already moving on, the sound of facetime dialing on her phone as she darted back outside in hopes of catching another glimpse of the celebrity. Parker, in response, caught her head between her hands with a low groan.

And yet, she couldn't help but think about what Melissa said.

Tom Ryder was a total, grade-A asshole... right?

She cast a despondant glance towards the crumpled bills on the counter, then the box of books at her side, before fishing her phone out of her back pocket, and pressing the second number on speed dial.

"Hey," she said, "do you want to get, like, really drunk tonight?"

Colt didn't bother to ask why before he was checking what ingredients he had in his fridge and offering to invite Jody and Dan over for dinner. Sometimes, she really loved her brother.

[miela]

Shattered Memories • Chapter I: The Expo & The Files • {Peter Parker x Stark!Reader}

Chapter Genre: Angst Chapter Warnings: Flashback Death (writing it hurt me lmao), Mentions of substance abuse and alcholism. Masterlist

↪ divider by firefly-graphics

DIARY / Dream Log #3 / 10 NOV 2024

Dear Diary,

 I dreamt of him again last night…the faceless boy

For the past few nights I've been dreaming of this boy. I didn't remember the dreams but I remember him. I can't remember what he looked like. It's like I remember the essence of him. Like he existed but he's nowhere to be found.

Only this time I remembered.

We were at the studio on a rainy day. I was wearing a long sleeve fitted crop top and matching leggings with my ballet shoes on.The pink of my slippers were a stark contrast against the black of my outfit. He was wearing a black fitted muscle shirt with black leggings under a pair of loose fitting Midtown Tech PE shorts. He was wearing a pair of star wars socks, which I found quite adorable. We were dancing playfully around the studio as we laughed at ourselves for not dancing so seriously but instead sliding across the floor and twirling each other as if we were ipart of a dance number in a musical

I wish I could remember his face.

I remember loving his smile. It's such a pretty smile, that much I know…but I don't remember what it looks like. I just know it brought me comfort and joy. His hair is soft and curly. He has such lovely hair. It feels soft and silky in my hands as I ran my hand through them a few times just to feel them. His eyes are puppy-like but I don't know what color they are. I just…know how they are.

It's strange to dream of someone and have no idea what they look like, but knowing little details that explains what they look like. It’s like running to a destination and then having no idea where you’re going. 

He likes to kiss my cheek and his lips feel velvety on my skin. He calls me different pet names too. 

"Baby, you’re going to hurt yourself."

"My little Lovebug." 

"Are you hungry, Darling?" 

"Princess, you’re doing great!" 

"There’s my Pretty Girl~"

His voice is soft, just like everything about him. (Well…minus his arms and chest and abs…) but his voice is like music to my ears. I would respond with my own pet names for him.

“Don’t worry, My Love, I’ve been doing this my whole life.”

“My Sweet Boy~”

“No, I’m okay, Baby.”

“It’s like you’re my own Disney Prince.”

“And there’s my Handsome Boy~”

We danced around the studio for about an hour until we laid on the floor facing each other tiredly. His fingers traced over my hips and waist several times causing my skin to react to his touch. I scoot closer to him until our faces are centimeters apart. I could hear his heartbeat and I’m pretty sure he could hear mine. We have a special connection that is different from most. It was a biological connection that I couldn’t place. 

I wish he was real. Then maybe I wouldn't feel so fucking lonely.

I leaned in to kiss him before something happened. He glitched. He glitched and my head felt like it was splitting in half with a migraine so painful that I woke up dizzy, shaking and sweating. 

How strange…and terrifying. 

[END NOTE]

The night was in good weather and the streets of New York City were bustling and busy, as per usual. Life was moving on as usual. The sun and moon cycled as usual.

The year is 2030.  

Five years had gone by after the incident at the Statue of Liberty. Five years since you were forced to forget him along with the rest of the world. 

No one knew who Peter Parker was. Not a single soul. To anyone that would be a terrifying thought, but it was something Peter himself had to accept.

He was swinging across buildings in the city one night, as usual. He was on his nightly patrol doing the same thing he's always done—protect the little guy. He figured it would be a somewhat busy night considering today was a special day so, he would probably have to protect some of the…not so little guys as well. He only stopped when he saw one of the big screens in Time Square and decided that this was a good spot to watch from. 

It was showing the Stark Expo. 

It had been awhile since he'd been excited about the beloved and annually anticipated event. Before, it hurt too much to bear with everything that happened but he was particularly intrigued with this one this year because this is when you made your official debut as the new owner of Stark Industries, and he knew you always wanted to make a big entrance. Much like your father, Tony Stark.

Only you wanted to do it bigger. Better.

Peter remembered different ideas you came up with for when the tech company torch was passed down to you. You said no to fireworks because the constant loud noises bother you and it was disrespectful to veterans, animals and those who are like you and sensitive to sound, even more so as a mutant human with super hearing.Other ideas you thought of were outlandish like setting something on fire or blowing something up (which Peter reminded you, contradicted your statement about the fireworks) and some were outrageous like blasting out of a giant cake. Eventually you came up with a solid plan that seemed to have fit your personality and mission as the legacy. You had it all planned out in a digital notebook with blueprints, lists, distributors, catering options and many more categories. Peter loved to watch you while you were fixated on something. It showed how much passion you had. He wondered how you felt leading up to the event. 

He wished he could have been there. 

There was a countdown on the screen for when the Expo was going to begin. Peter's friends invited him to go with them to see the Expo but he decided against it and used the excuse of having a lot of work; for school, for home and his job. Really he just couldn't handle the crowd right now he didn’t think he would be able to handle being so close to and yet so far from you. 

Also he's Spiderman. He's got his hero duties to do. 

With school, work, trying to function as an adult and being Spiderman, he was a busy guy, and that was the only thing that kept him distracted from thinking about his friends, his family, Mr. Stark, you…

Especially you. 

There were times when he looked at the necklace you gave back to him and remembered what you had said to him. 

"Give this back to me, I'll remember you."

But he knew it wouldn't be that simple. 

Five years ago, he had full intentions of calling you at seven like he promised but...he didn’t. He went to your window later that night instead. You were sitting on your bed sadly looking at a picture of you and your dad. It had been a year since you both lost Tony but it was taking you a longer time to move on for obvious reasons. He was your actual father and you knew him much longer. Tony was like a father figure to Peter, but he's been to this rodeo four times already. 

This was the first time you lost someone so close to you in such a way. 

Peter recalled that day. He remembered how you were.

Pepper had her arm around a crying Peter’s shoulders. Rhodey had given you a sad and apologetic look as you went over to Tony. You kneeled down by him.

"Dad, we did it." You said going up to him, your voice shaking as you put your hands on his shoulders. "Pops, we won. You did it. You…you…"

You paused when you saw the state of him. Half of his body was fried from using the infinity stones and he was taking his last breaths. Peter put his hand on your shoulder and you glanced at him with a fearful and hopeful look in your eyes. He pressed his lips together in a thin line giving you an apologetic and pained look. He had that same look you had in his eyes a moment ago. 

“No,” you shook your head and looked back at Tony. “Dad, please. We….we….we won.”

Tony looked at you one last time and weakly pointed to his heart before pointing to yours. You understood what he meant by it and you sighed deeply, nodding before he forced a small smile on his face that was barely there and took his final breath.

Your lip quivered and you leaned your forehead on his. “I love you, Daddy. I love you so much.”

Then the arc reactor light on his chest went out. 

Peter sat next to you after a moment and you instantly wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug and you hugged him back both of you crying your eyes out and attempting to comfort each other. Peter had to carry you back and he didn’t put you down until you had cried yourself to sleep on his shoulder.

Remembering that moment and then remembering how you were afterwards, it dawned on him how things played out. Peter was your rock, and you were his, but he had already made his decision. 

Your name was called and you perked up before quickly wiping your eyes and softly calling “Coming!”

You put down the photo on your end table and then walked out of your room. Once it was safe to do so, Peter climbed into your window and gathered any trace of his existence and put it in a box and left with it.

 Would he regret this? He had no idea.

He had run into once or twice or three times after that but as Spiderman and when he was saving your life from any danger. Nothing too eventful.

And that is how he ended up here five years later with a new life so different from yours.

The countdown made it to the 10 second mark and Peter was knocked out of his thoughts to pay attention to the screen. Once the mark hit zero the intro began.

Instantly he recognized the song. Back in Black by AC/DC. 

Different forms of tech and inventions were brought onto the stage in an almost cinematic way. Lights flashed, sparks flew, and the crowd went wild. Fireworks went off in the sky to Peter’s surprise but he was even more surprised when they made no sound. He concluded that you somehow made soundless fireworks. He wondered when and how you came up with that one. 

Once the platforms finished forming on the stage he spotted something flying in the sky. He didn’t sense danger from it but it was headed towards the expo. 

“Hey Karen, zoom in on that thing in the sky.”

“Okay, Peter.” and with that the lens of his mask zoomed in on the flying object. It was red and gold and mechanical…

Wait, could it be…?

“It appears to be an Ironman suit.” Karen stated.

“Who is it…?” Peter wondered.

“Activating X-Ray Scan Function.”

“Wait a minute…!” Peter panicked. “What if they’re naked…!”

“Be serious, Spiderman.” Karen retorted while deactivating the x-ray scan. 

Peter was taken aback by his AI. “Wow, Karen, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“All Stark Industries AI have been updated with a Bestie Feature created by (Y/N) Stark.”

Peter smirked to himself. “Classic (Y/N/N).”

You landed on a mid-rise platform on the stage as it lowered to the regular height. The crowd was cheering loudly as you stepped out of the iron suit and Peter was taken aback.

You looked amazing. 

You wore an oversized blazer with a black dress underneath and knee high combat boots. Your lips were painted a bright red color and your nails were a teal blue that Peter recognized you always wearing.  Under the dazzling lights of the Expo. You looked happy, healthy and lovely as ever.

Just how Peter hoped for you. 

You danced your way across the stage before you stood poised at the podium, your confidence radiating, much like how Tony was. The audience hushed, anticipation hanging in the air as they waited to hear from the new owner of Stark Industries, Tony Stark's eldest daughter, (Y/N) Stark.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests and partners," you began, your voice steady yet carrying an echo of nervousness that Peter recognized all too well that others wouldn’t. “How are we all doing tonight?!”

The crowd went wild and you grinned in response.

"Good glad to hear it because today marks a significant milestone – not just for Stark Industries, but for a legacy that my father, Tony Stark, entrusted me to carry forward."

The crowd erupted in applause, the memory of Tony Stark's genius and charisma still fresh in their minds, even five years after his passing. Your presence on that stage, the spitting image of confidence of your father with a twist of your own determination, stirred a mix of nostalgia and curiosity in everyone. Even people on the street stopped and watched curiously and anxiously. Once the crowd calmed down, you continued on with your speech. Peter sat on top of the tall building that was right across from the screen that he was watching. You looked a little different but you were still as beautiful as he could remember. 

“Tony Stark was many things; a visionary, a genius, a multi-billionaire, a philanthropist, an American patriot, a playboy, a raging smart ass…”

The crowd laughed, and you continued.

“But to me, he was my number one supporter, my greatest mentor, my biggest inspiration and my best friend."

You looked back at the Ironman Suit that you arrived in longingly for a moment before turning back to the crowd. 

“When I was nine years old, my dad was taken by terrorists. He told me those three months were a huge awakening for him and changed the trajectory of his life. Through those dark times he went in a man, and came out a hero. A year later, he had learned that he had made enemies and then one day, our home in Malibu was blown to pieces. Each and every attempt to knock him down only made him come back stronger and stronger...and each time he became more and more my hero.”

Peter agreed with you from his sitting place in the building and the crowd cheered once again.

“Obviously, I began to notice at a young age what was happening. I did inherit his genius after all. And I began to ask questions, lots of questions.”

“One day he pulled me off to the side and He told me, ’(Y/N/N), one day this company will be yours and I want this to be a learning lesson for you. I want you to learn from my mistakes, instead of your own. I want you to grow to be a better person than I am’... I still hold those words close to me and I wonder how I can even be half of the genius and a fraction of the hero that he was...and still is to many people? I don't think I ever could. But because he believed in me so deeply, I will be. Even though he is gone from this world, he's still in my heart, guiding me.”

"Change is inevitable, and with change comes the opportunity to create a brighter future,” you continued, your eyes alight with determination but Peter could tell that you did it to hide the pain. "My father once said that his suit was a cocoon, and he emerged as Iron Man. Stark Industries is my cocoon, and I am committed to guiding it toward new heights of innovation and impact.”

“I remember his speech here at the expo, after he revealed himself as the iron hero and how he said ‘it's not about us, it's about legacy’. I stand before you as a testament to my father's belief in progress, innovation, and the power of human potential," you stated. "Tony Stark was more than a genius inventor; he was a visionary who saw challenges as opportunities, who dared to dream the impossible and then turn those dreams into reality."

The holographic screens around the stage displayed images of Tony Stark's greatest creations: the Iron Man suits, the Arc Reactor, the revolutionary technologies that had changed the world and his one of his greatest creations stands in the middle of all of it. 

You. 

“So I will go on with this genius mind and this heart made of gold and iron that I inherited from one of the greatest people I have ever known and be the heir of legacy that he believed me to be.” 

Peter looked at the screen, his heart swelling at your words and the emotion and passion in your voice. He could only imagine how this was for you.

"As the new owner of Stark Industries, I take this responsibility seriously," you asserted. "My father's legacy was not just about technology; it was about making a difference. And that is what Stark Industries will continue to do under my guidance, because with great power comes great responsibility."

Peter could have swore that his heart exploded. That was what his Aunt May had told him right before she died. He wondered where you heard it from. “Now, just because I came down in the suit, doesn’t mean I’m trying to be the new Iron Man. Oh no, I’m trying to be a different kind of hero…but I will work hard to find someone who will be suitable to wear it.” You stated and the crowd seemed to look at you understanding. 

After that, you spoke of a renewed commitment to clean energy, sustainable technologies, and global initiatives aimed at improving lives.The audience was captivated, witnessing the torch being passed from one generation to another, seamlessly transitioning from Tony's leadership to your vision. Peter was also captivated by the strong and determined person you have grown to be. 

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was better that he was out of your memories and your life.

“Now a few words from the man who walked and the man who ran so that I could fly.” You smiled.

Your words resonated deeply with the audience as you concluded your speech. The applause that followed was thunderous, a testament to the faith they had in your ability to carry on your father's legacy. Peter couldn't be anymore proud of you than he already was.

He just wished he was by your side, supporting you.

As you stepped down from the podium, Peter couldn't help but feel the weight of the moment.

 The Stark Legacy was in your hands now, and you were ready to honor it and not by imitating your father, but by carving your own path while staying true to his spirit of innovation, determination, and a desire to make the world a better place. Just as you had told Peter once before.

Peter pressed his lips together under his mask as he watched you. He watched as you walked off stage as a video of Howard Stark began to play. He talked about the initial mission for Stark Industries. Then Tony’s video came on, and he spoke about legacy and the future. It sure seemed like the future of Stark Industries was bright with your mission to push it even further with technology for space exploration of the solar system, and making technology that can advance cybernetics and construction tools. 

Peter wished nothing for the best for you, but he couldn’t help but wish he could be by your side while doing all of it. Something told him to go to you and tell you everything but another part of him told him to do the opposite and stay as far away from you as possible, but he had decided a while ago that he would just let you have your own space to grow before he attempted to come back into your life…before he would return the necklace to you, but the more he thought about it the more he feared doing it. He had tried once  with Ned and MJ before they left for MIT, but he also chickened out. He couldn't even get close to Celina since she was training with Doctor Strange. He figured by now it would be a dead end anyways. 

So he promised to support you guys from a distance. A big one. 

The wail of sirens echoed down below fading in and out as they passed by and that was Peter’s signal to resume his duty as the beloved web slinging, wall crawling hero that he was meant to be. 

You had left the Expo early.

You left after you actually gave your speech. You had better things to do than to pretend that everything was okay. These five years were tough on you. You have lost so much and so many people and even five years later it deeply affects you. You were definitely better than you were years ago though. You pretty much flew off the handle and went off the deep end. You did some dumb shit and did some bad shit, took some dumb shit and took some bad shit and now you’re trying to forget all of the dumb shit and the bad shit. Lucky for you, you always kept a low profile. 

Everyone knew Tony Stark had a daughter but he kept you out of the public eye for good reason.

You preferred it that way anyways. It made life and school easier. You went as far as to take up the name (Y/N) Jarvis and take the bus home from school to keep your identity a secret. You were in no way ashamed to be a Stark, in fact, you were proud of it. You just didn’t want the unwanted attention that comes with being a famous person’s offspring. You could already hear the nepo baby accusations for everything (not that they were really wrong…).

So, when you went on a bender for a year, no one knew who you were. When you decided to take things to forget your pain, no one batted a pretty eye.

Except those who did know you of course. 

You’d rather not think about how you broke Pepper and Happy’s hearts seeing you like that. Or how selfish you had been. It wasn’t until you were at your worst one day, where you finally decided that you were gonna get your act together. It wasn’t easy…it was far from easy. You had spent the first half of the first year utterly depressed from the loss of your father and the next half was your party girl bender era, much too young from doing anything that you were doing. The year after that was recovery and the years after that was making amends with everything you made crash and burn. 

This year you worked. A lot. 

You spent most of your time in your lab at the avenger’s compound creating and inventing while also scolding DUM-E, the help robot your father created, for doing too much. Which is where you were right now instead of networking with people you really didn’t give a flying fuckaroo about at the expo.

You had more important matters to attend to. 

Usually you would be working on a new AI format (that wasn’t the debauchery that Ultron was..) or the car you were supposed to build with Tony before he passed, but with the world in near shambles all the time, you have a different project you were working on.

The NAI— New Avengers Initiative. 

After the fight with Thanos and the blip coming undone by the hands of your father’s sacrifice, shit went sideways in your eyes. You recalled how people reacted when the world went back to normal, you recalled Sam and Bucky going on missions to stop a literal child from causing a mass murder attempt on government officials, you recalled Sam becoming the new Captain America and his beautiful call out speech to those government officials, and you recalled the day five years ago at the statue of liberty.

 Sort of.

You had remembered a battle, you had remembered being there with Ned, Celina and MJ, but you honestly weren’t really sure why you were there and you didn’t understand why you were crying so hard. 

Come to think of it, why were you crying at all? 

You fought all types of enemies including the Big 3 (Aliens, Robots, and Wizards) as Sam likes to put it. You have fought terrorists, governments, hell you have fought in the civil war of the avengers, and yet you had the waterworks about a battle you couldn’t even remember. You blamed it on the realization that you would have to fight big battles without your biological family and chosen family the same way anymore, but…you felt like something else was missing, like a big part of you was carved out of your life. It was like there was this big hole in your chest and you tried to fill it with everything imaginable. You failed miserably.

It must be the dreams you were having. 

You kept dreaming about a boy, and everytime you dream about him you’re super happy. The happiest you have ever been. The only problem is you couldn’t remember who he was and why you kept dreaming about him. Since those dreams began you have been having terrible headaches and nothing has been really fixing them. Morgan would tease you in her oh-so-annoying-little-sibling-way and basically say that your brain is trying not to be stupid for once. 

God forbid she knew you were dreaming about a boy. You wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“FRIDAY,” You stated as you sat in your chair in thought. “Pull up all the files on the Avengers.”

“The remaining ones or All of them?” the voice asked.

“All,” you replied. “Minus me, I know me. Very well actually.”

“Pulling up Avenger’s database right now, miss.”

Holographic screens appear in front of you. “Spread them out. Circular please.”

The screens surround you as if they were a council meeting. You walked to each one studying them as you reminisced on your past relationship and current stance with each of them now. 

You heavily looked up to Natasha Romanoff and she was like a big sister to you.

Now she’s dead.

You deeply admired Wanda Maximoff, and even had a mini crush on her.

But she went rogue and is now nowhere to be found.

You adored Vision, since he was the personification of AI Jarvis.

But you don’t know what happened to him either.

You also admired Steve Rogers, and he was like a big brother to you. 

But he decided to go back to the past and live his own life. 

Thor was like your goofy uncle and you loved him like one.

But he has his own thing going on in New Asgard and with the Guardians of the Galaxy.

Doctor Bruce Banner you felt so much for. You honestly admired him too. You were one of the only people who didn’t fear him as the Hulk but rather felt pity for him.

You decided he needed to be left alone, even though he was better now.

Scott was cool. He was also like a cool uncle figure. 

But he has other matters to worry about. Including a family.

Same with Clint. You learned alot from him.

But he only came out of retirement by force. You didn’t wanna bother him. 

Doctor Stephen Strange you found amusing. 

But you currently hate magic, that’s more of Celina’s thing. Possibly Ned too apparently.

You look at each of them as if this is the only way you could send them off with good riddance…for some of them it was true. Some of them you expect to never see again. You long accepted that already and wished nothing but the best for the rest of them and you hoped they all could find peace as much as they could. You sighed and smiled as you looked over all of them, but your eyes landed on a screen that would change the trajectory of your life.

You let your eyes scan the face of a puppy-eyed figure with brown curls and boyish features. There was something vaguely familiar but so foreign about him. It bothered you. You read the name.

“Peter Parker…” His name tasted familiar on your tongue, like you had spoken it many times before.

Could it be…?

“FRIDAY,” you asked. “Give me all the information on Peter Parker that we have.”

“Certainly,” she responded and pulled up more screens. “Peter Parker. Age: 21. Would have been 26 but he was part of The Blip. Hair Color: Brown, Eye Color: Brown. Ethnicity: Some sort of European descent, seems to be English by the last name.”

“Okay, okay but like ...who is he in the Avengers?”

“He is Spiderman and he was taken under the wing of your father.”

Your face twisted in confusion. “Huh? How…?”

You knew Spiderman. You remember Spiderman as your partner on Missions. You two bonded over the fact that you both had Spider powers. You even built his and your suits and begged your father not to tell him that it was you for some odd reason…oh yeah you had a major crush on him. Your suits synced up to each other making you both the Iron Spider. 

Two Spider Mutants + Stark Tech = Iron Spider. 

As you scanned your neurons for memories, you tried to remember his face. Surely, you knew his face…but you couldn’t place it. Really, all this time you just thought Spiderman was Harley Keener, but now that you think about it…nothing in that thought process would make any sense. After all he’s from Tennessee and has been in the same room as Spiderman. You recall sleeping on the Quinjet with Spiderman with your head on his shoulder and his head on top of yours. You recall even fighting “against” him in the Avengers Civil War.

That’s a different story for a different day.

You went through a plethora of memories but you could never remember his face and it peeved you to no end. Did he just hide his identity from everyone? He was young and honestly you did the same thing for a while, so you don't really blame him. After you gave the heroic works, he continued being the friendly neighborhood spiderman, helping the little guy. But things weren’t adding up in your mind still. 

Especially if he knew your father on a close level to wear he took him under his iron wing. 

“Peter Parker,” you said softly again. “Who are you? How did you meet my father…? Are you the boy in my dreams…?”

“The Database says he was part of the Stark Internship. Which was a Pseudonym for his Avenger call.” FRIDAY responded. 

“Something isn’t adding up,…” you said, chewing your lip, vexed. “Why don’t I recognize him?”

“Would you like me to do a deeper search, miss?”

Invading his personal information? You thought. 

“How deep are we talking, Fri?” You squint your eyes at the picture of Peter Parker, as if you were addressing him. 

“I can go as far back as to the day he was born and as deep as to where he is right now.” 

You nearly fell out of your chair. “FRIDAY…!” 

“It’s the way I was built, miss. You can’t blame me.”

You snorted.

“FRIDAY, that is stalker behavior,” You respond, thinking no more than ten seconds on the idea. After all, if you knew each other personally I’m sure he told you most of this stuff already. 

And if he’s the boy from your dreams…

“Do it.”

And this is how everything changed.

~

[bronzemettle]

Superhero media is pretty popular IRL. If superheroes are part of the real world in the BronzeRealms, what does that mean for the movies and games and stuff?

Some of it still exists as in-universe licensed semi-biographical media or propaganda.

There is an officially licensed X-Men comicbook published by Image Comics since 2000. It was originally based on the adventures of the original X-Men in the 60s and 70s, but it runs to this day and has fictionalized versions of many more modern events in the current generation X-Men's lives.

Similarly, Fox made X-Men movies starting in 2005 with the participation of Consulting Producer Charles Xavier. He thought both these projects would help normalize Mutants for the public to see them in a heroic light, even if executives demanded they would primarily be fighting against other "bad" Mutants for most of the movies.

Spider-Man, thanks to debuting in Pro Wrestling before he became a superhero, is a copyrighted character whose name and image are wholesale owned by someone who is not Peter Parker. Wilson Fisk bought out that wrestling company in 2006 and immediately started marketing the fuck out of Spider-Man.

Halloween costumes, lunchboxes, popsicles, a newspaper strip, multiple movie series, many cartoons (often running during the same years as other Spider-Man cartoons on different networks), musicals, theme park rides... Spider-Man is just as much of a brand in the BronzeRealms as he is in our world, and he is NOT HAPPY about it.

Marvel Comics exists as a company. It is US government propaganda. It published heavily sanitized and fluffed accounts of the at-the-time recent exploits of Captain America during World War 2, and then continued with entirely fictional stories of Commie-punching after he went into the ice.

The Justice League as an organization assists any heroes who care to do so in managing their brand. They do not partner with any one specific comicbook company, but a collection of smaller companies, Charlton Comics, Fawcett Comics (based out of Fawcett City), Wildstorm, Quality Comics, Milestone, Gold Key Comics, and National Allied Publications.

Some of these Justice League-managed brand deals have led to movies and cartoons, but not anything directly analogous to the ones we know. The 60s Adam West Batman series is culturally more or less replaced by the Fearless Ferret and Grey Ghost franchises.

After the Mortal Kombat tournament concluded in 1990, Johnny Cage got most of the earth-based participants to sign him as their Agent, allowing him to license all of their likeness rights into a fictionalized arcade game retelling the story of their adventures, which quickly became a successful video game franchise under the new NetherRealm Studios, several movies, and more.

In 2005, to go alongside the first movie, Charles Xavier approved the creation of the fighting game X-Men Vs Street Fighter. In 2008, NetherRealm Studios would make Mortal Kombat Vs Justice League, and then in 2013, a much more popular and less charitable fighting game based on real superheroes, Injustice: Gods Among Us.

These two previously unrelated projects would crash together in 2014 with Injustice Vs Capcom 3 (titled such recognizing X-Men Vs Street Fighter and Injustice 1), which later became Ultimate Injustice Vs Capcom 3.

NetherRealm would next attempt to separate from Capcom for another solo game, Injustice 2. However, now that this was becoming an undeniable franchise... the inevitable lawsuit arrived from the real world Justice League after years of being presented in game narratives as murderers, totalitarians, traitors, etc. The game was forced to release a major update renaming and reskinning the entire roster into original characters.

Capcom would return to the franchise with Injustice Vs Capcom: Infinite. Injustice 2: Monsters Never Die Edition would clean up many of the rough edges that the lawsuit-mandated updates had introduced and bring in a handful of new characters. The most recent game in the series, Injustice Vs Capcom 2: New Age of Heroes, is a prequel that uses a retro pixel art visual style and was released in 2024.

Now we've been talking about superheroes, but the BronzeRealms is much larger than that, so let's talk about some other things that have various justifications to both exist as real things, and also be recognized as in-universe media in some way.

The Xena Scrolls, written by the Battling Bard Gavriil before she departed to Themyscira along with the rest of the Amazons, were found by Indiana Jones, and passed through various hands until they were acquired by Ted & Sam Raimi, who pitched an adaption of the scrolls as a tv franchise.

Benny Russell was a comicbook writer, artist, and sci-fi novel author in the 1940s and 1950s. Almost no-one knew it at the time, but he was psychically linked with Captain Benjamin Sisko across centuries into the future. So, when Gene Roddenberry acquired some of his unused worldbuilding notes and directly adapted them into the tv franchise Star Trek, he was unknowingly fictionalizing real future events. This same coincidence would repeat with a different collection of Benny's notes 10 years later for the series Galaxy Quest.

Now, you may wonder why, in the future, no-one starts to notice that these tv shows are coincidentally guessing a lot of real events. This is because, by an extremely convenient coincidence that most definitely wasn't assisted by the intervention of Time Agents, all historical record of the existence of the Star Trek franchise was destroyed in World War 3 and the Post-Atomic Horrors.

There are probably many other similar temporal shenanigans leading to franchises that most people reasonably assume to be fictional actually being loosely adapted from some account of real future events. There are also things like Wormhole X-Treme, a franchise that was knowingly created to obstruct the truth by presenting people trying to claim it's real as obsessive fanboys. This post is not a comprehensive list, just a grab bag of examples.

[alldancersaretalented]

NYCDA National Outstanding Dancers 2002-2024

2002

Junior: Garrett Smith (Dance Impressions) and Erica Ross (Dance Connection 2)

Teen: Anthony Lomuljo (Dance Attack Sunnyvale) and Becca Henderson (Ballet Society)

Senior: Danny Tidwell (Denise Wall Dance Energy) and Melissa Hough (Dance Explosion)

2003

Junior: David Gensheimer (American Jazz Dance Co.) and Whitney Jensen (CSPAS)

Teen: Travis Wall (Denis Wall's Dance Energy and Marilee Glazier (CSPAS)

Senior: Phillip Spaeth (Triple Threat PAC) and Carly Lang (DDK Danceworks)

2004

Mini: Corey Snide (Eleanor's School of Dance) and Christina Spinger (Dance Motion Performing Arts Co.)

Junior: Nick Young (Young Dance Academy) and Kayla Radomski (Michelle Latimer Dance Academy)

Teen: Chuck Jones (CSPAS) and Jaimie Goodwin (Denise Wall's Dance Energy)

Senior: Jon Bond (Center Stage Dance Academy) and Ellery Baum (CSPAS)

2005

Mini: Hogan Fulton (Bobbie's School of Performing Arts) and Tiara Keeno (Wasatch Dance Center)

Junior: John Manzari (Spotlight Studio of Dance) and Angelica Generosa (Dance Stop)

Teen: Garrett Smith (Odyssey II) and Dusty Button (Movin' South)

Senior: Teddy Forance (Hackworth School of Performing Arts) and Allison Holker (The Dance Club)

2006

Mini: Ross Lynch (Artistic Fusion Dance Academy) and Catherine Hurlin (Westchester Dance Academy)

Junior: Corey Snide (Eleanor's School of Dance) and Christina Spinger (Dance Connection)

Teen: Ryan Steele (Dance Dynamics) and Kirsten Wicklund (Danzmode Productions)

Senior: Christian Denice (Bobbie's School of Performing Arts) Jamie Godwin (Denis Wall's Dance Energy)

2008

Mini: Kolton Krouse (Tempe Dance Academy) and McKenna Ross (Tempe Dance Academy)

Junior: Alex Hathaway (Dance Dynamics) and Tiare Keeno (Wasatch Dance Center)

Teen: Corey Cox (Denise Wall's Dance Energy) and Taja Riley (Denise Wall's Dance Energy)

Senior: Crain Dionne (Donna Coco's Performance Plus) and Erica Ross (Tempe Dance Academy)

2009

Mini: Brandon Chang (Dance Town) and Sarah Pippin (CC&Co. Dance Complex)

Junior: Kolton Krause (Tempe Dance Academy) and Kamila Shah (Westchester Dance Academy)

Teen: Mason Manning (Dance Industry) and Tiare Keeno (Classical Ballet Academy)

Senior: Richard Villaverde (Dance Town) and Ida Saki (Dance Industry)

2010

Mini: Tade Biesinger (Dance Impressions) and Payton Johnson (Jean Leigh Academy of Dance)

Junior: Rae Srivastava (Independent) and Jayce Kalb (The Dance Centre)

Teen: Corey Snide (Eleanor's School of Dance) and Mattie Love (Dance Impressions)

Senior: Cory Barnette (Tempe Dance Academy) and Kaitlynn Edgar (Spotlight Dance Works)

2011

Mini: Travis Atwood (The Talent Factory) and Jacalyn Tatro (Inspire School of Dance)

Junior: Niko Martinez (Dance Images & Music) and Sarah Pippin (CC&Co)

Teen: Ivan Kalinan (The Dance Zone) and Madi Hicks (Academy of Dance Arts)

Senior: George Lawrence (Dancemakers of Atlanta) and Kali Grinder (The Dance Zone)

2012

Mini: Kyle Anders (Savage Dance) and Kayla Mak (Westchester)

Junior: Jack Wolff (Precision Dance Academy) and Payton Johnson (Jean Leigh Academy)

Teen: Kolton Krouse (Tempe Dance Academy) and Jordan Pelliteri (Plumb Performing Arts Center)

Senior: Joseph Davis (Draper Center) and Alexia Meyer (The Dance Club)

2013

Mini: Justice McCort (Krystie’s Dance Academy) and Jasmine Cruz (Westlake)

Junior: Jonathan Fahoury (Artistic Fusion) and Sophie Miklosovic (Faubourg School of the Ballet)

Teen: Jake Tribus (CC & Co) and Jayci Kalb (The Dance Centre)

Senior: Alex Soulliere (Spotlight Dance Works) and Alyssa Ness (Northland School of Dance)

2014

Mini: Luke Spring (Independent) and Charlee Fagan (Main Street Dance)

Junior: Matthew Spangler (Artistic Fusion) and Mackenzie Bessner (KJ Dance)

Teen: Rae Srivastava (BHumn DanceSpace) and Jacalyn Tatro (Inspire School of Dance)

Senior: Kolton Krouse (Tempe Dance Academy) and Jordan Pelliteri (Plumb Performing Arts Center)

2015

Mini: Brady Farrar (Stars) and Madison Brown (Lents Dance Company)

Junior: Parker Garrison (Stars) and Jasmine Cruz (Westlake)

Teen: Harrison Knotsman (Studio West Dance Center) and Nina Bartell (Sweatshop)

Senior: Jake Tribus (Next Generation Ballet) and Sarah Pippin – CC & Co

2016

Mini: Luke Barrett (Dance Attack) and Eden Galloway (Center Stage Dance Studio)

Junior: Jack Easton (IMPAC) and Mahalaya Tintianco-Cubales (Westlake)

Teen: Kele Roberson (Dance Institute) and Ali Deucher (The Dance Club)

Senior: Zach Manske (Woodbury) and Jacelyn Tatro (Inspire School of Dance)

2017

Mini: Hudson Silva-Costa (Spotlight Dance Center) and Phoenix Sutch (Krystie's Dance)

Junior: Mason Evans (Performance Edge 2 and Madison Brown (Lents Dance Company)

Teen: David Keingatti (Columbia) and Sydney Revennaugh (CSA's Dancers Edge)

Senior: Michael Garcia (Dance Industry) and Kaylin Maggard (Columbia)

2018

Mini: Sienna Morris (Westchester) and ???

Junior: Eden Galloway (WNC Dance) and ???

Teen: Aydin Eyikan (Kanyok Arts) and Jasmine Cruz

Senior: Harrison Knostman (Studio West Dance Center) and Jenna Meilman (Westchester)

2019

Mini: Ian Stegeman (Woodbury) and Ivana Radan (Westchester)

Junior: Justin Padilla (Infusion Dance) and Rebecca Stewart (Spotlight Studio of Dance)

Teen: Luke Spring (East Coast Edge) and Madison Brown (Lents Dance Company)

Senior: Jamaii Melvin (Miami Dance Collective) and Madison Goodman (KJ Dance)

2020

Mini: Eric Poor (CityDance) and Kynadi Crain (Jean Leigh Academy)

Junior: Jagger Effs (Miami Dance Collective) and Sienna Morris (Westchester)

Teen: Mason Evans (Performance Edge 2) and Mahalaya Tintianco-Cubales (Westlake)

Senior: Aydin Eyikan (Kanyok Arts) and Sydney Revennaugh (Performance Edge 2)

2021 (Orlando)

Mini: Spencer Parnell (Academy of the Living Arts) and Kiera Sun (Westside)

Junior: Michael Duvali (Centerstage Dance Academy) and Macie Miersh (All American Dance Factory)

Teen: Luke Biddinger (Touch of Class) and Eden Galloway (WNC Dance)

Senior: Jemoni Powe (Academy of Nevada Ballet) and Kayla Mak (Westchester)

2021 (Phoenix)

Mini: Ellis Khoundara (Tempe Dance Academy) and Skylar Wong (Woodbury)

Junior: Ian Stegeman (Woodbury) and Carolina Garcia (Miami Dance Collective)

Teen: Justin Padilla (Westside) and Erin Park (Westside)

Senior: Justice Wooden (Just Dance) and Charlee Fagan (Main Street Dance)

2022 (Orlando)

Mini: Mali Photnetrakhom (In Motion Dance Project) and Avery Gallenero (Dance Inc.)

Junior: Bryce Young (All American Dance Factory) and Eva Jimmerson (Renner Dance)

Teen: Luke Barrett (Dance Attack) and Phoenix Sutch (Krystie's Dance Academy)

Senior: Mason Evans (Performance Edge 2) and Kailey Woronstoff (Dance Universe)

2022 (Phoenix)

Mini: Levi Caicco (In Motion Dance Project) and Kensington Dressing (Evolve Dance Complex)

Junior: Avery Khoundara (Tempe Dance Academy) and Fiona Wu (Yoko's)

Teen: Keenan Kiefer (Academy of Dance Arts) and Georgie Weir (Miami Dance Collective)

Senior: Parker Rozzano-Keefe (Westlake) and Mahalaya Tintiangco-Cubales (Westlake)

2023

Mini: Jonathan Macleod (Joanne Chapman) and Hannah Fogel (Dance Institute)

Junior: Lincoln Russo (Poirer Productions) and Kiera Sun (Westside)

Teen: Hudson Silva-Costa (In the Spotlight) and Crystal Huang (The Rock)

Senior: Jonathan Paula (Canadian Dance Unit) and Abigail Weber (Dallas Conservatory)

2024 (New York)

Mini: Marko Kokovic (Draper Center for Dance Education) and Maeve Olsen (The Dallas Conservatory)

Junior: Levi Caicco (In Motion Dance Project) and Aria Du (Yoko's)

Teen: Sam Gauss (Draper Center for Dance Education) and Evee Lee (CAP The Company)

Senior: Caleb Abea (Larkin Dance Studio) and Izzy Howard (Westside)

2024 (Phoenix)

Mini: Anderson Sander (New Dimensions) and Belle Marie Arauz (Dance Town)

Junior: Ellis Khoundara (Tempe Dance Academy) and Mali Photnetrakhom (In Motion Dance Project)

Teen: Maceo Paras-Mangrobang (Westlake) and Gracelyn Weber (The Dallas Conservatory)

Senior: Cameroon Janson (Creative Conservatory of Dance and PA) and Jordyn Sarmoen (Performance Edge 2)

[hooked-on-elvis]

"Long Legged Girl (With the Short Dress On)" (1966-1967)

Recorded on June 29, 1966 at MGM Soundstage, Hollywood · Released as Single on April, 1967 and on the Soundtrack album Double Trouble on June, 1967.

MUSICIANS Guitar: Scotty Moore, Tiny Timbrell. Harmonica & Guitar: Charlie McCoy. Bass: Bob Moore. Drums: D.J. Fontana, Buddy Harman. Piano: Floyd Cramer. Steel Guitar: Pete Drake. Saxophone: Boots Randolph. Trombone: Richard Noel. Vocals: The Jordanaires. OVERDUBS, Guitar: Mike Deasy. Bass: Jerry Scheff. Drums: Toxey Sewell. Saxophone: Michael Henderson, Butch Parker.

Elvis as Guy Lambert in Double Trouble (1967).

RECORDING SESSION Soundtrack Sessions for MGM’s Double Trouble June 28-29, 1966 (7PM–12AM; 1–3AM): Radio Recorders and MGM Studios Recording Stage, Hollywood. Ever since the frustrating exercise of making the music for his first two movies, Love Me Tender and Loving You, Elvis had insisted on doing his soundtrack recording in a regular studio setting, not on a large, impersonal sound stage where he felt he couldn’t perform at his best. Disgusted with yet another round of lackluster material provided by his own publishing companies, Elvis showed up late at Radio Recorders for the Double Trouble sessions; but this time the result was that MGM studio executives moved the next night’s sessions to their own sound stage, saving money for themselves and for the film’s eventual bottom line (in which Elvis and the Colonel too had a share). Elvis had long since learned from Colonel Tom to be mindful of his obligations, and he raised no explicit objections—but he could not have been pleased when he heard the sound of the recordings they were making. The soundstage had all the presence of a giant tin can. Poor miking and generally sloppy engineering produced a sound that might have worked for mono cinema playback, but scarcely for the work of a major recording artist. (...) The session concluded with the rerecording of a single with a title as long as the song was short — “Long Legged Girl (With A Short Dress On),” which ran, mercifully, for one minute, twenty-seven seconds. Excerpt: "Elvis Presley, A Life in Music: The Complete Recording Sessions" by Ernst Jorgensen. Foreword by Peter Guralnick (1998)

RELEASE On April 28, 1967 "Long Legged Girl (With the Short Dress On)" was released as A-Side Single (backed with "That’s Someone You Never Forget", which had originally appeared on 1962’s Pot Luck; ref. 47-9115) by Elvis Presley with the Jordanaires. A couple of months later, in June 1967, it came out on the Soundtrack album Double Trouble (ref. RD-7892).

LYRICS — "Long Legged Girl (With the Short Dress On)" Songwriters: John Leslie McFarland/Winfield Scott All right I've been thumbing rides, travelling light Walking streets 'til past midnight Tramping roads, trails, and lanes Scaling cliffs, fields, and plains Searching 'til the early dawn For that long-legged girl with the short dress on Riding trucks, bikes, and skis Sailing lakes and brooks and seas Driving wagons, cars, and jeeps Walking stilts in ten foot leaps Searching 'til the early dawn For that long-legged girl with the short dress on And everywhere I go, she's been and gone She's fine (she's fine) It's just too bad she's the travelling kind So fine (so fine) I just can't rest 'til I make her mine I've been from Maine to Tennessee Mexico and Waikiki Rain or shine, sleet or snow Searching high, then I'm searching low Everything depends upon For that long-legged girl with the short dress on She's fine (she's fine) It's just too bad she's the travelling kind So fine (so fine) I just can't rest 'til I make her mine Well, I've been from Maine to Tennessee Mexico and Waikiki Rain or shine, sleet or snow I'm searching high, well, I'm searching low 'Cause everything depends upon For that long-legged girl with the short dress on The long-legged girl with the short dress on

Elvis performing "Long Legged Girl (With The Short Dress On) in scene from Double Trouble (1967).

[jazzandother-blog]

Fats Navarro

Fats Navarro, photograph from the William Gottlieb Collection at the Library of Congress, in the public domain as of 16 February 2010.

Fats Navarro and his ´´greasy´´ influence on modern jazz.

He died at the age of 26. We will know the cause later. For now, let us note that his official name was Theodore. But in the music scene he was better known as Fats, the talented Fats Navarro (1923-1950), born in Florida, USA.

There are no reliable sources to clarify the reason for his nickname. Therefore, it would be a waste of time to investigate who, when or why he began to be called "Fats". A quick hypothesis would be that it was because he was notoriously overweight. A lot of body fat, then. Beyond that there is nothing.

Because of this, little Fats started taking lessons on that instrument at the age of six. From there he tried the saxophone, but his skills did not progress. However, his skills were not progressing, so he tried the trumpet.

Meanwhile, the jazz scene that surrounded the young Navarro in the thirties developed, above all, with the big orchestras that played swing, a danceable musical style composed for the great salons. Those combos brought together more than ten musicians. Wind instruments such as saxophone, trombone and trumpet abounded. For each group there were undoubtedly more than two musicians playing these brass instruments at the same time.

That is, during that decade there were still no solo musicians of any kind who could survive on their own. Therefore, those jazz performers were considered as a subclass within a subclass.

Thus, for example, the band led by Earl Hines had Charlie Parker as saxophonist, Cab Calloway gave work to trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie, Coleman Hawkins had Thelonious Monk as pianist; at the same time, Louis Armstrong invited saxophonist Dexter Gordon to some sessions and Fats Navarro even played as a studio musician. That is why the history of jazz still hides talented musicians who unfortunately lived only a short time and did not record their own material, a situation that can be annoying and painful.

However, there were various causes that led to the extinction of the big bands. Thus, in the early 1940s, jazz was turned on its head and bebop emerged as a result.

This was a musical revolution carried out primarily by musicians belonging to different orchestras and not by soloists. What happened was that these less famous musicians relished the opportunity to demonstrate "their" music, "their" skills, and the harder they sounded, the better for everyone.

Moreover, another important factor was that these jazzmen were oblivious to the commercial pressures that plagued the bandleaders of the time. Thus, these secret practitioners of an unpublicised art were free to take this new sound to its ultimate consequences.

So it was that, in his early twenties, Fats Navarro joined none other than Andy Kirk's band Clouds of Joy. Navarro's forcefulness and vitality were evident in the various tones he achieved on the trumpet. For this reason, the following year he replaced the admired Dizzy Gillespie on trumpet in Billy Eckstine's orchestra, considered the first great bebop band.

Undoubtedly, Fats coincided with the best moments of bebop. He was an undisputed driving force behind this new rhythm. In addition, during his short life he worked with New York studio musicians, recording with almost all the leading figures of the time.

Despite being only a few years old, Navarro is considered by his colleagues as the forerunner of the modern trumpet in jazz. And that is no mean feat. His musical contribution is best perceived, above all, in the company of other trumpet players. As an illustrative example in this case, just listen to the 1946 recording with drummer Kenny Clarke's band, the 52nd Street Boys, where he shared trumpet solos with another great, the boper Kenny Dorham. (listen here)

In addition, Fats' great quality as an improviser was his ability to think of long musical phrases and put them together in even longer paragraphs. All within the same melody, without losing the tempo. That is why, with these same traits, there was no other trumpet soloist with his same ability until Clifford Brown.

Thus, Fats Navarro's musical heritage is a complex conceptual globality and the result of a type of music worked in flows, in movements, energies, forces. It is a sound ensemble that at the same time vibrates together with an immense living body. A sharp musical philosopher. A rabid promoter of jazz.

Unfortunately, tuberculosis and his unfortunate heroin addiction ended his life at the age of 26. He recorded no solo albums and there are few sessions of him playing live. Fortunately, though, most of his performances are collected on albums dedicated to him in the form of a tribute, to be listened to in one go as often as necessary.

Listen and enjoy Fats Navarro - Blowing at the Royal Roost ( Full Album ) Recorded - New York: September 13, 1948.

Fats Navarro - Trumpet

Wardell Gray, Allen Eager - Tenor Sax

Tadd Dameron - Piano

Curly Russell - Bass

Kenny Clarke - Drums

Text: José Rivera Guadarrama in NEXOS magazine

[korgbelmont]

Cassius Harlow x Stevie Sun

Part 1

Sometimes all it takes is one move to change everything. Something that Cas is going to learn the hard way...

Written in the present tense.

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations, @jerzwriter

Warnings: Blood, Death, Feeding, Violence

Word Count: 1232

Notes: I don’t own these characters, they are the property of Pixelberry Studios.

Harlow created on cooltext.com

This is set a couple years after the events of both books.

CRIMSON BEECH

Chasing down a bloodlust driven Seth, Cas and Gabriel near him as he pounces someone, his fangs descending.

Cas - Seth, NO!

But it's too late. Seth's fangs pierce the neck of his victim, who screams out. Cas and Gabe grab a shoulder each, pulling him off. Gabe knocks the young Vampire out while Cas looks over the person Seth fed from.

Cas - Shit.

Gabe - We can't hide this, Cas.

Cas - Trust me, Golden Boy, I know.

Cas looks over at Seth, before looking down at the bloody wounds.

Cas - Seth's my responsibility. If the Elders find out this was him... the things they'll do.

Gabe - What're you thinking?

Cas - Get Seth home, and then... Then take me to the Nexus...

THE NEXUS

Astoria pounds her fist into the wall. cracking it. Gabe and Parker watch from the edge as Lewyn pushes Cas down onto his knees.

Astoria - Every time, it's you.

Cas - We're Vampires, feeding is what we do.

Astoria - Silence.

Lewyn - You can only be branded with silver so many times. I think this time, something more is in order.

Cas - What? A death sentence?

Astoria - No. That'd be too easy.

The two coven heads share a nod of agreement.

Astoria - Cassius Harlow, you hereby exiled from Crimson Beech and the Venandi Coven.

Cas - I can think of worse.

Astoria launches her fist into Cas' face, knocking him out. Gabe and Parker rush over, but Astoria steps between them and the unconscious Vampire.

Astoria - Don't.

Parker - What will you do with him?

Astoria - There is somewhere he can be taken. Gabriel, Seth will be placed under your care, as it seems Harlow is not the right person to be a mentor.

Gabe - I understand.

Coming to, Cas finds himself in a room he doesn't recognise, the sun shining through the curtains. He sits up and looks around, the bedroom, not recognising anything. He leaves the room to enter to a small studio apartment. On the table in the kitchen area, he finds a couple boxes along with a letter on top.

'Welcome to your new home, Cassius,

This is the consequences of your actions, whilst you are still within leylines, you are now the only Vampire in your new home town. Be careful of your actions or you may find your life being ended.

Astoria'

Cas - Whatever. Could have at least told me where I am.

Under the letter he finds a folder with paperwork in it.

Cas - Who do they think I am? Golden Boy, he's the one who enjoys paperwork.

He throws it on the floor, but notices something fall out. A driver's licence with his photo on it. He grabs it and looks at the open folder. At the top of the page, he finds an address, one he can only presume is his new one.

Cas - Beachwood... Never heard of it. But at least I'm still in the leylines, surprisingly nice of them.

He looks down at his hand in the sun.

Cas - Wonder what made them decide that...

He grabs his jacket and heads out. If this is where he's now stuck, he may as well get to know it.

Cas - (Let's see what you have to offer, Beachwood.)

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he takes to the streets of Beachwood, seeing what his new life has in store for him.

As he walks the streets, he finds places like he had in Crimson Beech, until he comes across what seems to be a club and looks in through the window, finding that it is empty. On the next window, he finds a poster in the window advertising a band playing that night.

Cas - Might be worth checking out...

Woman - You should!

He looks to his side to see a young woman with long red hair stood by him.

Cas - That so?

Woman - Maybe I have a bit of bias because the singer is a friend. You're new in town, aren't you?

Cas - What gives it away?

Woman - The fact that I've never seen you before.

Cas - Touché.

The woman extends her hand to Cas.

Stevie - Stevie Sun.

Cas - Cas. Harlow.

Stevie takes her hand back, easily able to tell that Cas isn't a hand shaker.

Stevie - Well, Cas Harlow. If you're wanting a way to make friends. This'll be the place to do it.

Cas - Never said I was looking for friends.

Stevie - Oh, I get it. Lone wolf?

Cas - Something like that.

Stevie - We'll see about that.

Stevie takes her leave, walking past him. Cas looks over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

That evening, Cas arrives at The Verve as a band plays. He keeps to the back, looking around at all the people.

Cas - (Guess this is the gathering spot.)

The band finishes up their song and everyone applauds.

Singer - Thank you. We're gonna take a break for a bit, but we'll be back out soon.

The crowd disperses and Cas moves more out of the way. But amongst them is Stevie, who shakes her head with a smile as she approaches.

Stevie - You came after all.

Cas - I did.

Stevie - So what brings you to Beachwood?

Cas - It wasn't by--

He stops himself mid-sentence, something setting off his Vampiric instincts. He heads out, leaving Stevie in confusion.

Cas - (Something's here...)

His eyes turn silver and something in him tells him to go down the alley behind the Verve. Looking around, he hears something he didn't expect to.

Cas - No...

A humanoid bat-like creature pins him against the wall, raising it's clawed hand.

Creation - You will pay for your treachery, Venandi.

Using his strength, Cas kicks himself off the wall, throwing his weight against the creature, sending them both crashing into the wall.

Cas - You should all be dead!

His fangs descend and he hisses at the creation as the two charge at each other.

Backstage inside, Donovan, Blake, Stevie, and Tyler all hear something outside.

Tyler - What was that?

Blake - I don't know. But it didn't sound good.

They rush out, all of them looking in shock as they see the impossible taking place in front of them.

Stevie - Cas...?

Cas holds the Creation by the neck with one hand before throwing his fist full force through it's chest. The creature drops and Cas shakes the blood off of his hand, catching his breath. He looks over at the group, all of them looking at him in horror.

Cas - You're welcome.

He picks up the creature, throwing it over his shoulder before speeding out of the alley, leaving the group in shock.

Donovan - What did we just see?

Tyler - I-I don't know.

Blake - Stevie, you said 'Cas'.

Stevie - That's what he said his name was. Cas Harlow.

CRIMSON BEECH

Placing a marker on the map, Lewyn and Astoria look it over.

Lewyn - You sure putting him there was a good idea?

Astoria - He's proven he can handle Creations. This way, we kill two birds with one stone. He's no longer our trouble, and any remaining Creations can be dealt with.

[bucksboobs]

What did tom holland do?

He was the 3rd in a line of movie Spidermen so there was already several points against him if someone was already invested in whether the MacGuire or Garfield version was better, which a lot of comic book nerds did and then the MCU made their Peter Parker a massive Tony Stark fanboy when normally Peter only associates with the Avengers out of necessity and prefers being a street-level hero like the Defenders (there's a reason the phrase is "your friendly neighborhood Spiderman") and then basically turned him into Iron Man Jr. with the Iron Spider suit and access to a private jet and drone warfare when one of Peter's defining characteristics is his self reliance and underdog status. He makes his own suits. It's implied that either Aunt May taught him to sew or he instinctively learned as part of his suite of Spider Powers but either way the idea of Peter in a suit he didn't make himself is borderline heretical because it goes against his street level hero persona. Add in the general backlash to the soullessness of the Marvel Studio complex and that's why Comic Book fans have a generally negative opinion of Tom Holland from guilt by association.

The film snobs hate him because back when Scorcese said that Marvel films can't be considered art Tom said "has he actually seen the films?" And while a cute pithy statement that you'd expect when someone insults one's work, it has created a grudge for some people who have dedicated themselves to tearing in to his filmography (which is pretty easy when outside of The Devil All the Time and maybe Cherry, Tom's bread and butter is Popcorn fare.)

There's also a third group that sometimes overlaps with the previous that thinks Zendaya is too good for Tom and wants her to be with Timothee Chalamet, but at least the film snobs and comic book geeks have concrete reasons based in reality.

And that's what you missed on Glee Xitter stan drama!

[phantom-of-the-ruckus]

The lost episode of Mortimer's Handeemen

Disclaimer: This is a creepypasta meant to be a just-for-fun Halloween thingy. I did not go all the clichés. I now just find most of them silly, but I know there are some good ones. This creepypasta is not connected to any AU and is more of an internet story that would appear in the games in the 1990s to 2010s with some speculation about whether it's real or if the one who posted it was a troll or did it for entertainment.

Either way, happy halloween! Enjoy ^^

TW: for blood, scary imagery, horror, creepypasta, body horror, and gore

[An audio log is found. A mysterious person presses it. The message start.]

H-Hello?

[It appears to be a young teenager. Her voice is groggy and whispery, you can hear her heavy breathing]

I...I hope you can hear me or...well rather listening to this audio log.

I'm trapped, and I can't get out...I can't remember well how I got in, but I can tell you what I know of my current location and well my personal state.

[There was a long pause and heavy breathing. In the background there were some steps and scratches at the distance.]

T-they're looking for me....

[It appears that she is muttering to herself. After another long period of silence, she begins to speak once again.]

Sorry...I'm not exactly in a situation where I can easily tell my story. I'm c-currently hiding in some domain of the studio.... T-the Handeemen Studio to be exact. The one that got burned down and close.

[She let out another long pause as footsteps in the distance could be heard.]

I am not supposed to be here. I am supposed to be in the testing rooms, or I think it was the testing rooms. Perhaps I did die and I am a ghost... No. They are looking for me. I must be alive...

[A door shuts and the mysterious girl lets out some heavy breathing.]

I think they left. Hopefully.

[She breathes once again. Her voice is hearing a bit close to the voice recorder.]

I...I don't remember much. I can't remember my family, if I had one, nor my age. I can't recall my own face, or my own name. I think It was Jessica Parker....or was it Jessica Drew? No...maybe it was Siobhan Drew or Siobhan Parker.... It must be one of those names. They are familiar to me, but I can't remember who belong to who. I do remember they were part of a story. The story of how I got here. That is the story that I can't seem to forget, and probably the reason why I am recording this. I may never remember it or probably would get killed for running away. So...I guess I am recording this now in hopes anyone finds it.

[There was another long pause and a sigh followed after.]

I suppose I can't remain nameless for the rest of this recording. I don't want to remain nameless as I don't remember my name of who am I. But....but I think I used to be called "Jay." It's written on my wrist, or well is smeared with my own blood and I can see is either "Jay" or "J 4 Y." I used to have some writing on my arms and legs, they are smeared and I can't decipher what it was or why it was written. The only thing readable was the "Jay" or "J 4 Y." You can call me Jay. After all it does sound like a name, and I do love the idea of having a name...even if it's not my own name....since I can't remember. But....but I do remember one name. It's Jordan. No last name since I can't recall. Jordan was a kid I used to babysit...or I think I did. I used to watch him. I do recall a lady who was his guardian or mom I don't remember her name. I think it was either one of the possible names I mentioned before.

She'll be just Jordan's mom. It makes it easier for me to remember, and she no longer becomes a nameless face in what remains of my memory. So...Jordan's mom usually called me to watch over Jordan. I think I was his babysitter. I can't remember. She often had to go to work, and we spent hours upon hours doing homework, playing, and...watching TV He...he had a favorite show. A puppet show, some sort of Muppet's knockoff....or was it Sesame Street? It was a cancelled show from a closed down and burnt down studio. The same studio I am trapped here today Mortimer's Handeemen. The thing that got me where I am today. My own nightmare, and the parasite that is taking away my life and memories.

[There was a small pause. Jay was oddly silent. It was almost as if she was taking a time to recompose herself.]

I can remember how did they use to look like. They looked friendlier, happy, and almost as if they never thought about harming anyone. What a crude lie. I see them every day. They are mean, and they like to sew puppets into my arms. I can feel the pain, and then I feel asleep and wake up with no memory.

It's an endless cycle. Every day, I remember less and less about myself. My memories are snapping moments in time. I can't remember how long or when they happened. But I do remember the handeemen from the episodes. I remember them so vividly, and their hyperrealistic faces that were captured into my memories. I saw them permanent smiles. They made Jordan happy ...or I think they did.

He loved the show. It was no longer on aired, but he managed to get some merchandise, VHS tapes of the episode, specials, and shorts. He owned the figures of the main group and the dog. I...I think his favorite was the dog or the artistic guy, Nick Nack. I remember seeing them in a lot of the episodes Jordan and I used to watch. Or maybe it's because I have vivid snapping memories of a hyperrealistic dog made out of humans parts. Large teeth filled with blood, a red eyes staring at me, and his killer bloody paws that could maul anyone within reach.

[Jay pauses momentary.]

Sorry, I lost track of myself.

My mind keeps flooding with memories and...I keep forgetting why am I here sometimes. Not...not how I got here, but rather why am I hiding again...

I know I don't have much time...so it's better if I finish my story. That if I actually have time as they might get me soon...

[There is another period of silence. Jay gets close one again. Her voice is trembly.]

J-Jordan adored the show, and we watch it like a lot. Eventually, we ran out of episodes, and Jordan was getting tired of watching them.

This is where it gets a bit blurry for me. I can recall caring for Jordan, and I am sure I bought him a VHS tape.

But...but the thing is I can't remember why I bought it.

I think he asked me if there were unseen episodes to watch, or I wanted to surprise him.

I was talking to who I believe was my boyfriend. I don't remember his name, so he'll remain as "boyfriend." There is also this other guy involved, so he'll be called "Guy."

So...Boyfriend told me about Guy. He was in his 20s I think. He loved to break into abandoned places for loot, which...also included the abandoned studio.

According to Guy, he didn't break into the studio as often. He got inside like three times I believe or from what I can actually remember.

One of these times, he found a mysterious VHS in the late creator's office. I can't tell if that was a stretch to be cool, or if he actually went in there. Either way, the VHS was a very real thing.

The episode was a never seen or aired episode. The episode was called "Mortimer's Handeemen and the mysterious Meteorite." In the back there was a note saying "PROTOTYPE. DO NOT PLAY" but Guy did play it for some testing before putting it on sale.

I knew that Jordan would love it, so I bought the VHS tape for about 20 or 10 bucks. I remember doing some bargaining. I can't remember the exact price, but I got a sweet deal and immediately brought it to Jordan.

We turned on the TV and placed the tape. The episode started with Mortimer staring with his permanent smile. There was so music. Only a dreadful silence. I didn't have too much importance, and took the VHS out and in thinking the episode froze.

Then, the episode started with Mortimer greeting the audience. He sounded less cheerful than usual. He was introducing the fictional place where the Handeemen lived....but he was rather staring almost as if he could see us. I ignored thinking it was just a prototype error.

Eventually the main theme started. It was very slowed down, and the music sounded off-key. We figured it was due to the age of the VHS tape and continued watching the episode. It started normal with one of the kids finding a strange rock and calling the Handeemen about it.

Then, things started to get odd. The tape suddenly stopped and looped over when the Handeemen were picking up the meteorite. Suddenly the TV went black, almost as if someone turned off....but it was still on and the VHS tape was running.

The screen turned on and showed an empty room. It was silent, but I could feel something was lurking over. I turned off and on the TV. The normal episode was on. I rewind the tape, but everything was as if the image was not there. We continued watching the episode thinking it was a glitch.

Or so we thought...

As the episode progressed. The handeemen sounded less friendly. They sounded annoyed and furious. Their eyes were slowly becoming red. Then they went back to normal as if nothing happened.

I was getting nervous as this was starting to look less of a malfunction and more of a prank. I left the room to call Guy and ask him what was this all about. He was confused and told me that never happened before.

Suddenly I heard a scream. It was Jordan. I hung up and rushed to the living room. He was curled up and crying as he begged me to turned it off. I was confused, so I watched at the TV to see what was going on.

[Jay gives out a long pause. Growling can be heard from the outside. Her breath can be heard again, until the growling fades.]

Sorry... there were puppets nearby...

Where was I?

Oh yes...

When I looked back at the TV, I saw hyperrealistic man. He had a horrified expression and seemingly was rotting. He was sitting on a chair...but he was cut in half and was bleeding. He had mitten sewn into his hands, as I could see the bloody stiches.

It was almost as it was a real thing going on, as if the camara was live. It was horryfing.

Jordan began to scream and begged me to put it away. The channel began to fave, as numerous symbols and strange words began to appeared. I tried to turn off the TV but the off and on button nor the controller were working.

Suddenly a raspy voice began to muttered "I C U" just as the image of the man cut in half was getting closer. Before anything else could happened, I unplugged the TV and everything shut down.

Jordan was upset and terrifed as ever. It was within very good reaons. I did my best to calm him down and told him that I will get to the bottom of this. He decided to go outside and play with his friends. I called Boyfriend, and then called Guy.

When they arrived, Jordan was drawing on the floor. Boyfriend and I confronted Guy about the tape. He swore he never tampered with it. I took him to the living room and plugged the TV back. The episode runned down normally to my surprised.

Jordan eventually sat down and watch it as Guy told me I was crazy and to never contact him again. He left leaving Jordan and I confused. Boyfriend tried to be suportive, and telling me it was propbably some prank in bad taste.

[Jay pauses. It appears she needed a momment to think.]

I do like to think that was the case, but reality turned to be another. Now I am stuck here. Loosing my memory and myself eventually... Alone. A lab rat And-

[Jay pauses before sighing]

Sorry. I lost track again.

I....we....

Jordan. I talked to Jordan about the situation. I told him that this was either a malfunction or a prank from Guy. He felt unsure, but decided to trust my word. That's what I can remember most about the event.

I know that I ended up staying watching for the night. I cannot assure you wether it was on that same night or if a few days pased. All I know was that Jorda's Mom had aked me to stay overnight to watch her son.

And then, that was when things started to get spooky and unsettling...

Jordan was in his room asleep. I just tucked him in, and I was helping Jordan's mom to clean the kitchen. The phone began to rang and I picked up thinking it was probably Jordan's mom asking me if Jordan was okay.

When I picked up the phone....there was silence and a breathing.

"Hello?" I said, thinking this was some bad connection.

"Have you checked on the kid yet?" My blood went cold as shivers sent right down my spine. I dropped the phone and ran towards Jordan's room.

He was still in his bed asleep. I checked around to see if there was anything off. When I was sure he was safe, I left the room and picked up the phone.

"He's alright." That was the lat thing I said when I hung up.

15 minutes, I recieved the same call.

"Have you checked on the kid yet?" I once again dropped the phone and checked on Jordan.

He was alright, and I hung up the phone refusing to answer the question this time. The mysterious guy called again but I hung up as soon as I heard his voice, and went directly to check on Jordan.

After a while, I decided to leave the door open and keep an eye if anything happened. The same mysterious person kept calling for about 20 minutes. I hung up each of his calls, and he eventually stopped.

I started to slowly doze off. It was getting pretty late, but part of me remained unsettled about the mysterious calls. I doze off momentarily before the phone rang. I hesitated to pick it up, fearing it was the mysterious caller.

To my surprise and relief, it was Jordan's mom. She was calling to check if Jordan was alright.

"He's just in bed. Everything is fine, ma'am." I said just as I heard the TV turning on, and the Handeemen's playing. I ended the conversation and hung up.

I was upset. I figured that Jordan woke up and tried to sneak into watching another episode. When I entered the living room, my skin went pale. The episode I brought from guy was playing, but there was no one watching it.

I took the TV remote and tried to turn off the TV or stop the player. Neither of them worked, but their batteries were still on. I tried to manually turned them off, but it was useless. Then...I tried to unplug the TV.

"This should do it." I thought to myself.

The episode continued to play as if nothing had happened.

Terrified, I tried to remove the tape but what happened next, left me paralyzed in fear.

The screen went back, and then showed Guy being strapped into a bed. His eyes were swollen and he was screaming. Suddenly, the scientist puppet, Riley, entered the room. She had a twisted smile and her eyes were glowing red. In her left hand, she had a saw.

I could not feel my body as I was too horrified to move. I saw Riley slowly approaching guy as she maniatically laughed.

"You'll become one of us!" She said just as she slowly began to press the saw into Guy's torso and slowly cuting him off as blood dropped.

The screen went back, and the next picture was a twisted and bloody Mortimer staring at the screen with a teacup filled with blood and the letters I, C, and U underneath.

The picture then changed to a video of Nick. He was in his art room. His face was melting so hyperrealistic, that it almost looked as if he was bleading. He was sobbing uncontrollably as he strocked some abstract painting of black and red.

The screen went black, and then Daisy appeared on what is seemed to be a kitchen. She was humming to herself as she baked a pie made out of human organs. My stomatch twirled up as I could see Guy's eyes into the mix.

The screen shut down as I stood there trembling as the phone began to ring. I walk towards it and pick up with trembling hands.

"Have you checked on the kid yet?" It was the same mysterious caller as before. I dropped the phone and ran towards Jordan's room.

The bed was empty and he was nowhere to be found.

I picked up the phone and I cried "WHO ARE YOU? WHERE IS HE?"

There was no answer, and no sign of the caller. Then the call disconected and the phone disconnected completely. I dropped the phone, and rushed towards the living room when I heard sobbing.

The place was empty, but the TV had a distrubing picture. It was the same mysterious human puppet man, but now where was Guy accompaning him. His eyes were gone and he was bleeding. He had sewn mittens into his hands, and just as the mysterious man, his upper body was sitting on a bleeding chair.

There was some silent sobbing as the background, but my eyes focused on the message underneath the figures...

"HELP ME" Underneath was the direction to the abandoned studio.

Fearing that Jordan was taken by those puppets, I left the house and rode on my bike into the studio. After I came in, I broke inside and desperately began to look for Jordan.

[Jay's voice trails off as she starts to become uneased.]

I-I couldn't find him, but I heard noices from the outside. I feared that they were outside...a-and went down deeper. Then someone struck me in the head and everything became a blurr.

I heard the voices of Jordan's mom, Boyfriend, the police, and Jordan looking for me outside. I doze off as they shut down.

I woke up on a lab with a puppet sewn into my hand, and then I lost my memory slowly and began to forget who am I or where am I, just remembering the evil faces of the puppets and how I got here.

Now, this the only chance I got to store what becomes of my memory. If you find this, that means that I am dead...or if miracously you found me with no memory.

Either way, please find the VHS and destroy it. No one should have ever seen the lost episode, and become a victim like I or Guy became.

[The tape ends as Riley Ruckus tosses it aside , scoffing, before returning to work. Not realizing that a mysterious man is staring at the tape from afar. His plaque, reading JORDAN]

---

HAPPY HALLOWEEN AND I WISH YOU A VERY SPOOKY DAY!

~ With care, Phantom <3

[mortemoppetere]

TIMING: current LOCATION: downtown wicked's rest SUMMARY: rhett doesn't show up to apartment hunt with his brother; emilio worries. CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of sibling death

He checked his watch again. It was habit, at this point; like a silent prayer that he’d seen the numbers wrong before, a flutter of hope that he was wrong. But the numbers on the face remained the same, the truth stark and blatant. 

Rhett was late.

Some people might have written that off, because it was Rhett. He didn’t strike anyone as the sort of guy who valued punctuality. He lived in a van, he ate fucking soap, he talked shit to anyone and everyone who would listen. But Emilio knew his brother like the back of his goddamn hand, knew that, for all his faults, Rhett was a man of his fucking word. He showed up when he said he was going to show up, especially when the person he was saying it to was Emilio. With the lives the two of them led, that was a fucking necessity. 

He pulled out his phone, flipping through it absently. Rhett’s account was offline, as it had been for days now. Parker’s messages glared up at him, and irritation slid down his spine. If something was wrong, there were few people who would be willing to help him. Parker was one of maybe two who might. 

And Emilio would rather die than admit to that.

He slid the phone back into his pocket, glanced up at the building he’d been waiting outside of. The studio apartment for rent inside would likely be snatched up by the morning. On the off chance that Rhett was skipping out on their plans in some attempt to avoid moving out of his van, Emilio planned to make good on his promise to rent him a three bedroom just to spite him. But odds were, that wasn’t the case. 

Odds were, this was something much, much darker.

The detective limped away, hands in his pockets. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was work a damn case. 

He made the rounds, checked Rhett’s usual hideouts. No one had seen him at the forge. His van was empty. None of the bartenders remembered him coming in lately, none of the hunters he knew had heard anything. Worry turned to dread when he found his brother’s cane outside an apartment building downtown, laying at the edge of an alley like it had been kicked there. He leaned down and picked it up, the knot in his stomach tightening as he stepped further into the alley. He checked the dumpster, checked the ground. No body, no blood.

He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

Tucking the cane under his arm, he trudged back out into the street. He texted Javi, made a request for information that would probably cost him a drink or two and a roll in the hay. After a moment’s hesitation, he texted Kavanagh, too. Covering all his bases was important and, as he told most of his clients… It was better to know. Even when the news was bad, even when it hurt. It was always better to know.

With a few more messages sent, he tucked his phone away, trying not to think too hard about the weight of that cane under his arm, about what it meant. One way or another, he’d find the truth.

Even if it fucking killed him.

[hooked-on-elvis]

Elvis' first LP cover 📀

A LITTLE BACKGROUND STORY ABOUT THE PICTURES USED AS COVERS FOR ELVIS' FIRST LP "ELVIS PRESLEY" RELEASED ON MARCH 23, 1956. All the pictures were taken in 1955.

THE FRONT COVER

Scotty Moore, Elvis Presley and Bill Black in July 31, 1955, during concert in Tampa, Florida. Photo by Williams V. "Red" Robertson.

Known as the "Tonsil Photo", the picture of Elvis holding his 1955 Martin D-28 guitar (with custom made tooled leather cover with his name "Elvis Presley" blazoned across the front), as used on the front cover for his first RCA LP, was taken on July 31st 1955 in Tampa, Florida, according to Tampa photographer William V. "Red" Robertson, who took the picture.

Colonel Parker hired quite a few different studios and photographers to photograph Elvis in the 50s for commercial purposes. Williams Vernon "Red" Robertson was one of the professional photographers hired by Parker, in his case to photograph a show with Elvis Presley on July 31, 1955. Robertson did field work for his Robertson & Fresh commercial photography studio, a firm active in Tampa from 1932 to 1960. Roberton's business partner, Harry Fresh, processed and printed the images. You can see some other pictures from Robertson & Fresh's studio in here (digitalcommons.usf.edu archives).

The "tonsil photo" since taken was extensively used in newspaper and print to promote future shows in the 50s, and due to its use in Elvis' first LP, specially, it's one of the most famous pictures of the King of Rock and Roll.

[1] Elvis' Martin D-28 guitar backstage at the Mosque in Richmond - June 30, 1956 Photo © Al Wertheimer -- [2] The "Tonsil Photo" used in a February 8th ad for the shows on the 10th in the Charlotte Observer. Friday, February 10, 1956, Elvis, Scotty, Bill and DJ made their first appearance in Charlotte with four shows at the Carolina Theatre. [3] Elvis' tooled leather cover (trimmed) and D-28 - Aug 5, 1956 Photo © Bob Moreland.

Other pictures of Elvis taken that same day, July 31st 1955, in Tampa, Florida:

Elvis at Fort Homer W. Hesterly Armory in Tampa, FL on July 31, 1955.

THE BACK COVER

On November 30th 1955, Elvis and the Colonel flew to New York, where they register at the Hotel Victoria on Fifty-first Street.

On Thursday, December 1st 1955, Elvis and the Colonel met RCA executives, including president Larry Kanaga and publicity director Anne Fulchino, at the RCA's Twenty-fourth Street studio in New York.

JUST SO YOU KNOW: I think there isn't photos of Elvis with RCA's president Larry Kanaga (at least I haven't found one yet) but below is a photograph from another day (in the future) of EP and Anne Fulchino, publicist for RCA Victor's Pop Record Division. They were waiting for the elevator at CBS Studio 50 in New York City on Saturday, March 17, 1956. Photo by ©Alfred Wertheimer.

Back to December 1st, 1955: A photo shoot was arranged and pictures of Elvis and the Colonel, Elvis and Steve Sholes and Elvis and fellow RCA recording artist Eddy Arnold, who happened to be in New York for a session, were taken in December 1st 1955.

December 1st, 1955, RCA's Twenty-fourth Street studio in New York: Elvis and Steve Sholes; Elvis and Eddy Arnold; Colonel Parker, Eddy Arnold, Elvis and Steve Sholes.

After the pictures with other people, Elvis was photographed by himself... a lot (I mean it). From all the pictures, four of them (posed action shots of Elvis) were used on the back of Elvis' first album.

THE PICTURES ON THE REAR JACKET OF ELVIS' FIRST RCA LP:

Note: I haven't found the 2nd picture in a satisfying quality yet but if I do, I'll update the post.

Some other pictures taken that same day:

Elvis Presley. December 1st 1955. Photo shoot at the RCA's Twenty-fourth Street studio in New York. Photographs by William "Popsie" Randolph.

Credits: Pictures from Pinterest Elvis fan accounts (too many different accounts); Discogs (album sleeves), elvispresleymusic.com.au (some more pictures and info from the December 1955 day in Elvis' life); scottymoore.net (some other pictures and info from the December 1955 day in Elvis' life); digitalcommons.usf.edu (information about one of Elvis' early photographers, William V. "Red" Robertson, who was responsible for the "Tonsil photo").

[magicalgirllove92]

My favorite TV shows of 1997

1. South Park (1997-present) One of the best Comedy Central original shows and one of the longest running adult animated shows ever. The show takes places in the fictional town of South Park, Colorado where 4 young foul-mouthed boys got involved in the series of hilariously mature adventures. This cartoon is for adults only. Starring: Trey Parker, Matt Stone, April Stewart, Mona Marshall and Mary Kay Bergen. Distributed by Comedy Partners and Paramount Global

2. King of the Hill (1997-2010/2024-present) Fox Television Network folks is needed another adult animated show besides The Simpsons and Mike Judge arrives and creates one of the best-loved Fox shows ever King of the Hill. The show takes places in the fictional town of Arlen, Texas, chronicling the lives of Propane salesman Hank Hill, his family, and his 3 comical best friends. Starring Mike Judge, Kathy Najimy, Pamela Aldon, Johnny Hardwick and Stephen Root. Distributed by 20th Television Animation and Disney

3. Cow and Chicken (1997-1999) With an success of Cartoon Network's second original show Dexter's Laboratory and 3rd series Johnny Bravo, the all-cartoon TV network has come up with an plan... an new summer TV show that involves 2 funny young kid animals, an devilishly funny villain, an dashing brave weasel and an buffoon baboon. Thus, Cow and Chicken was born on July 15, 1997. This grossly laugh out loud animated comedy about an scrawny 11 year old Chicken, his beefy 7 year old sister Cow and their unconventional weirdest human parents. Cow and Chicken navigating their lives throughout suburbia, encountered hilarious problems not just at school but an evil funny guy with devilishly schemes named Red Guy whose singular intent to make the siblings' lives miserable. Along with Cow and Chicken, the 2nd segment that spun-off an very short-lived show called I Am Weasel. The spin-off that focus on a smart, dashing, intelligent, noble and successful weasel named I.M Weasel and an unintelligent, rude, dumb and stinky baboon named I.R Baboon who is unaware of Weasel's good deeds and acts as his rival and friend, and the mischievous funny devil Red Guy, he often antagonize the two. Starring Charlie Andler, Candi Milo, Dee Bradley Baker and Michael Dorn. Distributed by Cartoon Network Studios, Hanna-Barbera Productions and Warner Bros Television Distribution

3. Stargate SG-1 (1997-2010) An television sequel to an 1994 blockbuster hit movie that started it all. Showtime ordered 6 seasons before Sci-Fi Channel (Syfy) took over from the remainder of the series after successful reruns. An young team of explorers made up of soldiers and scientists travels through a Stargate, an ancient portal to other planets. They use the Stargate to explore new worlds, forge ties with friendly civilizations and protect earth from evil and hostile forces. Starring Richard Dean Anderson, Michael Shanks, Amanda Tapping, Christopher Judge and Ben Browder. Distributed by Metro Goldwyn Mayer Domestic Television, Showtime Networks and Syfy Originals.

4. Disney's Recess (1997-2001) Recess is might be ABC's first original hit show/original Saturday Morning Cartoon show since acquired by Walt Disney Company in 1996. 6 brave 4th graders at the fictional school of Third Street School make it their mission to protect the kids on the playground despite King Bob and his minions who enforce his harshly unwritten law, TJ, Gretchen, Spinelli, Vince, Gus and Mikey seeks a rational balance between conformity an individually. The hit cartoon that spun 4 movies, the underrated 2001 movie Recess: School's Out, an Christmas compilation sequel Recess Christmas: Miracle on Third Street, 2 direct-to-video movies that debuts in 2003, an prequel Recess: All Growed Down and the series finale movie Recess: Taking a 5th Grade. Starring Andrew Lawrence, Ricky D'Shon Collins, Ashley Johnson, Pamela Aldon and Jason Davis. Distributed by Walt Disney Television Animation

5. Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction (1997-2002) Sci-fi/fantasy/mystery fans are need a relief after Unsolved Mysteries suffered from disastrous failure after the show was moving from NBC to CBS, 4 more months before the first ever Murder, She Wrote TV movie and the 1996-1997 season of The X-Files ended with gigantic cliffhanger, so Fox and Dick Clark Production conjure up an summertime experiment to turn the tide until September and that's when Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction? Debuts on May 25th, 1997. Each episodes that has 5 tales, all of them which appear defy logic or some of them are loosely based on actual events. The viewer is up to challenge of determined 5 stories that are true or false, at the end of each episodes, it is revealed to the viewer whether 5 tales were true or fiction. The show was massive popular in Germany, RTL II revives the show with Star Trek actor Jonathan Franks reprise his hosting duties in October 2021. Starring James Brolin and Jonathan Frakes. Distributed by Fox and Dick Clark Productions

[poetsalchemy]

woah! was that PETER PARKER walking down main street? i heard they’re not actually from ivy cove but come from MARVEL. they’re 21 and live in FULTON PARK but watch out because they can be BRAZEN + IMPULSIVE but are actually INTELLIGENT + ENTHUSIASTIC. despite them NOT HAVING memories, you’ll always think of INK-STAINED FINGERTIPS, NIGHTS IN NEW YORK AS SEEN FROM A FIRE ESCAPE, & THE RUSH OF WIND AGAINST YOUR FACE when imagining them. ( wolfgang novogratz, he/him )

[ * THE BASICS ! ]

NAME:  peter benjamin parker.

NICKNAME(S):  pete, web-slinger, wall-crawler.

ALIAS(ES):  spider-man.

SPECIES:  human.

BIRTHDAY:  august 10th.

BIRTHPLACE:  queens, ny.

PAST RESIDENCE(S):  queens, ny.

CURRENTLY RESIDING:  fulton park, ivy cove.

LIVING SITUATION:  studio apartment that he pays for himself.

GENDER IDENTITY: cis man, he/him.

SEXUALITY:  bisexual.

ETHNICITY:  caucasian.

FACE CLAIM:  wolfgang novogratz.

OCCUPATION: photographer.

MEMORIES: peter has no memories of ever being spider-man; he only remembers his immediate family (aunt may and uncle ben) & growing up in queens. he only vaguely remembers losing his friends ned and mj, but believes this is due to them growing apart when he moved to ivy cove & went to college.

[ * CONNECTIONS ! ]

MOTHER: mary parker (deceased)

FATHER: richard parker (deceased)

AUNT: may parker

UNCLE: ben parker (deceased)

SHIPS: gwen stacy, mj watson, felicia hardy, or chemistry.

FRIENDS: ned leeds, harry osborn, more tbd.