#nickelodeon new logo

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Excited about Nickelodeon foot logo? Discover the latest updates and how to download it in our comprehensive blog post!

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Finalized 2023 Nickelodeon Movies Logo (Concept)

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Nickelodeon’s new logo!!

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The Suitcase Gang Watches: The (First) SpongeBob Squrepants Movie

Feeling Cute, Might Continue This At A Later Date lol

Also, yes, this could be seen as post-canon. As seen below for obvious reasons lmao

The movie starts with the 2002 Paramount Pictures and Nickelodeon Movies logos. The titles read "Paramount Pictures Presents," "A Nickelodeon Movies Production," and "in association with United Plankton Pictures." Seagulls fly across the sky while the screen pans and the open credits start. We then see a pirate on a look-out post. He moves upwards to get a better look at something with his telescope. The screen then shows the view in the telescope of a pirate on a dinghy.

"Oh, live-action!" Regulus remarked, eyes shining with interest behind her goggles. "And pirates, to boot!"

Vertin nodded. "It's not often that live-action happens in this series."

"Perhaps it is. A new, approach?" Balloon Party asked.

A man on the dinghy, with a large trunk, yelled out, "I got it! I got it! I got it!"

"Got... what?" Sonetto muttered. Sotheby heard her, and motioned towards the screen.

"Something rare, I do believe!"

The look-out pirate squinted. "Dinghy ahoy." He then proceeded to look downwards. "Dinghy off the port bow!" after a moment, he yelled again, "DINGHY OFF THE PORT BOW!"

Below, another pirate yelled, "DINGHY OFF THE PORT BOW!"

Off screen, many other pirates yelled it too as they ran around the ship, before focusing on a door and a pirate going up to it.

"Captain! Dinghy off the--!" he was cut off, however, as the door slammed open and into his face, knocking him downwards.

"Dinghy." the Captain said, being a man with an eyepatch and a parrot on his shoulder.

"Ouch!" Regulus winced. That's gotta leave a mark!"

"A concussion." Balloon Party remarked. "No matter. He will be. Alright."

Vertin hummed. Maybe. They hurt, she'd know.

The screen went outwards, and showed then the dinghy being pulled on board, the pirate still deliriously repeating that "He's got it".

The Captain pushed on past. "Where is it?!" he asked.

"It's right here, Captain!" replied the pirate.

Everyone leaned closely.

The Captain looked as the chest opened, bathing his face in golden light. "I never thought I'd see it, with me own eye..." he whispered in barely-controlled excitement.

Everyone leaned in closer...

He turned around to show golden tickets. "TICKETS TO THE SPONGEBOB MOVIE!" he yelled, as the pirates start cheer.

Regulus let out a wheeze. "TICKETS?!"

"See? Rare!" Sotheby said. "Tickets to movies are quite expensive, you know!"

It was true, yes. But maybe in different times.

The pirates started to sail towards the movie theater as the main theme to SpongeBob Squrepants started to play.

Needless to say, everyone joined in. Even Sonetto and Vertin, Sonetto blushing while singing, but felt better with everyone else singing with her.

At long last, the pirates were sat... and the movie in the movie begun at last.

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 23 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!oc]

summary: in the beginning, there was darkness...

words: 5.1k

chapter warning: gratuitously deep philosophical nonsense.

series warnings: mob-typical bang bang violence, hurt/comfort. smut. Spicy situations. spousal / domestic abuse. family trauma. verbal abuse. PTSD, psychotic breaks/episodes, drug use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. possessive!peter, protective!peter. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self-talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships. having happiness ripped away from you.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you think that this symbol

is the logo of some off-shoot programming block on Nickelodeon, then you're wrong. But are you? Regardless, live a little and come back later.

Part 23

Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...

Peter thought of the elements. 

Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...

The Greats. Earth. Wind. Water. Fire. Space. Born out of Hinduism’s sacred literature. Also, Captain Planet’s sidekicks.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

The Chemical Elements. Only 118 of them have even been discovered. Only 95 of those are primordial, whereas the rest are man-made. 

His dad used to talk for hours about this stuff.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

The interrogation room he was in was dark, despite the flickering fluorescent bulbs. The buzz of the lights sounded like a buzzsaw. The air was cold, too. The thin NYPD-branded, crew neck tee that Peter had been given to wear didn’t help much. 

Tick... Tick... Tick

The lights flickered again, this time with a greenish hue. 

Argon. Symbol: Ar. Number 18. A noble gas. Mercury. Hg, number 80. Also known as quicksilver. Highly toxic. Phosphorous. Number 15.

In his class, he was Number 2.

Atoms aren’t even as old as people assume. After the Big Bang, the universe was still nothingness—white, hot light that scorched everything out of existence. The heat was uninhabitable. Hydrogen didn’t make its appearance until roughly 370,000 years later. 

370,000 years of hot, blinding nothingness.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

Hour after hour, they came at him like waves of radioactive light.

First, there were two detectives—both a bit too junior to be assigned to such a high-profile case, but Peter figured that they didn’t know that. A reserved Eagle Scout named Sousa and a snarky blonde female named Carter. 

Or just ‘Sharon,’ as her boss Alexander Pierce referred to her, to her thinly-veiled ire. 

The Commissioner waltzed into the room mid-interrogation and essentially asked his naive detectives to go back to coloring while the adults talked. Both detectives walked out of the interrogation room with a scowl on their faces.

They probably didn’t know it, but Pierce wasn’t concerned about their abilities as detectives, or the integrity of the case. All he needed was to get Peter behind bars, where crooked guards and violent inmates could take over. Where he could give Peter the same welcome that Miguel had.

They probably didn’t know it, but Peter could tell by the scent of Pierce’s cologne: a $1,200 bottle of Bond 9 Dubai that not even New York’s police commissioner could afford. 

Peter recognized the scent. It was Wilson Fisk’s favorite gift to give his friends.

They probably didn’t know it, but Peter did. 

Pierce had no intention of letting him make it to trial.

Peter was disconnected. Drained. Eventually, even Matt’s voice became static which blended into the tone of the room, and droned beneath the ticking of the clock and the god-awful buzz of the lights.

“—he’s in’a world’a trouble...”

“... absolutely no evidence —not even formal charges have been presented...”

It might not have been productive, but Peter allowed himself to tune out. Matt was a good lawyer.

“—lucky we’re not pressing charges against the department after Captain Stacy’s unwarranted attack on my client, whom he’s been stalking for years—”

Oh man, that’ll piss George off when it gets back to him. A very good lawyer.

Despite his earlier act, he still felt a great amount of sorrow for George Stacy. Not exactly sympathy... and not quite guilt. Just sorrow. 

Looking into his eyes was like looking down into a sinkhole. Or passing a destroyed car on the highway. Unidentifiable. Cold. Hollow. Empty. Somehow the emptiness in Gwen’s father always triggered an empty feeling in him. It was a secret weapon that George had over Peter that his estranged father-in-law didn’t even know he had.

On the outside, Peter could wear a mask that projected cockiness and make lewd comments about the man’s wife. On the inside, George could eviscerate Peter with a look.

370,000 years of nothingness. Nothing but white, hot rage.

Peter tuned back in for a moment when Pierce said the name Walker. He hadn’t even heard the question fully and already his blood was boiling. He wished that he was guilty of that bastard’s murder. He wished that he had killed him. He tried to focus on something that Felicia said months back which resonated with him: about how Honey needed a chance to stand up for herself.

Maybe Felicia was right. Maybe it was just a terrible thing that needed to be done, and Honey was the one that needed to do it. 

Honey wasn’t Gwen. 

The history she shared with that dead asshole was a far cry from the tragic turn of events that led Gwen to shove a man off the ledge of a clock tower. 

Honey wasn’t Gwen.

The look of heartbreak in her eyes. He’d never forget it. 

George looked at Peter that way once, too—after a closed-casket funeral when he laid his daughter in the dirt.

They looked the way Peter felt all the time. Devastation. Ruin.

How could Peter possibly be capable of such cruelty? The world was full of monsters. Sometimes Peter was one of them.

Honey wasn’t Gwen.

In the beginning, there was darkness. Then, there was an explosion. Then there was an inferno that burned so hot, even the basic building blocks of the universe could not begin to form.

Honey wasn’t Gwen; she was Peter’s universe. The stars in his sky. She was a vast, endless expanse that surrounded him. That held him in an ever-growing, outwardly-expanding gravitational orbit. She was everything, and outside of that, there was nothing.

And every second in that room he felt himself getting further away from her.

Peter’s bones hurt. His back was in so much pain it was difficult to sit still. On top of that, he was weary. He was traumatized. He was grieving the loss of his security, his home. Grieving Eddie.

Despite that, Peter could toss the table like a Coke can. He could punch a hole in the wall and stroll out if he wanted to. Or crawl across the ceiling, to Pierce’s astonishment and horror.

Pierce was staring at him again. This time, there was a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

Even if Peter did escape, he had too much to lose. Peter knew it. Pierce did, too.

In all the ways that mattered, he was trapped in his own web.

After several more minutes (or hours, maybe) of grandstanding on both sides, the door to the interrogation room swung open. A stocky figure silhouetted the doorway. Intense features, sharp lines in his jaw, brow, and aquiline nose, as much shadow spilling over him as there was light. 

The temperature of the room shifted. Matt and Pierce stopped talking. Peter froze, lifting his chin as he met the dark glare of Manhattan’s district attorney. 

“Frank,” Pierce said with a tinge of discomfort. “I wasn’t aware you’d be joining us so soon.”

Matt’s voice warmed but maintained a snarky edge. “Ah, is that the Honorable Francis Castiglione?” he bitingly beamed. 

Despite the smile on Murdock’s face, Peter could hear the pace of his lawyer’s heart pick up. Which... wasn’t a great sign. Even Pierce started to sweat. 

“Mr. Murdock,” New York’s toughest DA replied without batting an eye. Unswayed. Uncompromising. Undefeated. He held a stone, straight-laced expression. Even beneath a conservative black suit and tie, he was one of the most intimidating men Peter had ever laid eyes on. He was at least a solid 170 pounds, Peter supposed, of solid muscle and righteous fervor.  

“Just having a little fun, Mr. Castle,” Matt charmed with obnoxious flair. “How could I forget your name with all of the posters still hanging around? ‘Stand Your Ground.’ Great campaign slogan, by the way. Especially for a pacifist who managed to ban every firearm in the five boroughs. Although, I’m certain you won’t be getting any gift baskets from the gun lobby—”

“I wanna speak with your client alone.” Frank’s deep voice rolled through the room like the first tremors of an impending avalanche. The other men stared back, blinking silently.

Matt’s sunny disposition dimmed as his jaw tightened. Pierce’s hackles were raised, although he tried to suppress it. Wordlessly, they blinked and flinched and tried to wrap their heads around the request.

A humorless laugh left Matt’s lips. “Yeah. That’s not gonna happen—”

“That’s fine,” Peter answered. He and his lawyer spoke simultaneously, their voices crossing each other in converse directions. 

Matt turned his head towards Peter’s side of the room, his whole body going stiff. The flesh behind his light stubble turned pale. “Um,” Matt subtly cleared his throat while his heartbeat hurled alarmed profanities at Peter. “Uh, that is... not advisable.”

“S’okay, Matt,” Peter calmly replied, keeping his eyes locked on Frank. He could hear the sounds of his lawyer’s brain overheating while trying to reboot. Pierce pinched his lips in an anxious pout, avoiding looking directly at the district attorney.

Matt gripped the head of his cane tight enough to nearly break it. “Uh... Um. Oh-okay.” Awkwardly, Matt pushed his chair back as he came to a stand, shuffling to his feet. 

Leaning back into the chair rest, Pierce visibly relaxed until Frank sternly added, “You too, Commissioner.”

The irritation in Pierce’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Shoulders tensed, teeth gritted, the man stood from his chair. He mirrored Matt as he sidestepped from the table and towards the exit.

Matt lingered for a moment at Peter’s side while his nails anxiously scored the cane. Peter noted the pinched expression behind Matt’s ruby-colored glasses.

“It’s okay,” Peter murmured under his breath, repeating an earlier sentiment that Murdock was skeptical to believe. And with that, Matt was powerless. Hesitantly, he gave them a parting nod, and followed Pierce out of the room.

The metal door echoed as it slammed shut, leaving the two of them alone in the cell. 

Peter threaded his fingers together, the metal in his chains clinking, and leaned back as far as his restraints would let him. Thighs spread and chin tilted off axis, he fixed Frank with an unimpressed glare as a smirk played on his lips.

The prosecutor shifted like a monolith unearthing itself. Frank measured the cocky, sharp-tongued mafia ringleader with eyes colder than steel as he strode to the table. He pulled out a chair across from the prisoner and lowered himself down into it.

The two of them sat quietly for a moment on opposite sides of the room. But it was their positions on opposite sides of the law that created friction. 

Frank was at least a decade older than Peter, but Peter seemed even more juvenile by comparison. The mob boss looked and acted like a young prince, leaned back in his seat with a smug face. Alternatively, Frank glowered down at him with the authoritative scrutiny of judge, jury, and executioner.

“Hot daaamn,” Peter said, mouth curved into a smile. “You put on some weight since I last saw ya, bub.” Waggling his eyebrows, his eyes flicked over the other man’s form. “You been workin’ out? Crossfit, maybe?” He let out a mirthless laugh. “Forget bein’ the scourge of New York’s underworld— Bro, you must be killin’ it in the gym.”

Unfazed, Frank disregarded the remarks without a single blink. His dark eyes bored into Peter, and he remained more than comfortable with the uncomfortable silence that followed.

Peter glared at him with darkening eyes, balling his fists against the table. “Is it safe to assume the cameras are off at this point?” Animosity sharpened his voice to a razor’s edge. “I mean, that’s the only way you’d ever allow yourself to be seen fraternizing with a criminal like me, right?”

The temperature of the room pitched downwards even further. Icy waves surged off of Peter. Frank was a stone wall, letting each wave crash over him and fall back into the surf.

“I’m not the one who put you in those cuffs, Peter,” Frank answered, nonconfrontational. “I’m not the bad guy here. And I never wanted to be your enemy.” He kept his voice soft and respectful, wisdom shining from his eyes. “You and I—we’re not so different. We’re not monsters; we’re men. We’re bound by the law. Both of us, judged by the law.”

The smile faded from Peter’s lips. “Well," he glowered, bitter frost in his bite, "aren’t you a modern-day Moses on the Mountain.” His words were punctuated with ire as he scrutinized him with disdain. “Y’know, they told me ya caught religion, but I didn’t realize what a holy roller you were. When we’re done here, I’ll give ya Matt’s number. Give ya tons to talk about. Bet'chu two would be a hoot at parties.”

Peter sneered at him a moment longer, then let out a bored, depreciating sigh. “M’not much of a Bible thumper, myself,” he half-shrugged. “Only verses I know by heart are Ezekiel 25:17... and, uh... whatever that bullshit was in Shawshank.”

Frank glanced down, deep in thought. “‘His Judgment Cometh and That Right Soon’,’' he said, recalling the prop he referenced. It was a tapestry embroidered with the Bible verse hanging in the corrupt Warden’s office—a MacGuffin in the film’s plot. 

“That's not a real verse,” Castle noted, matter-of-factly. “You’re probably thinkin’ of Psalm 98:9—’Let them sing Before the Lord; for he cometh to judge the earth: With righteousness shall he judge the world and all of its people equally.’” 

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Well.” The word tasted bitter on his tongue as resentment spread through his chest like a tumor. “I’m Jewish. And even then, I never drank the Kool-Aid. S’not really my thing.”

He waited, expecting Frank to take offense. To Peter’s dismay, he remained as peaceful as a lake on a windless day. 

“I get that,” the older man mused somberly. Contemplative, he looked up at Peter with sympathy coloring his face. “If what happened to you, happened to me,” he said, “I don’t know if I’d like who I’d become either.”

As he said it, his gentle eyes settled in on Peter with a knowing expression. Pity. It made Peter's teeth grind and his temper burn. It took all of his self-restraint not to break out of his chains and (re)break the prosecutor’s nose. Indignation writhed inside of his chest, souring his face and his stomach.

“Heard you were gunnin’ f’me real hard, too,” Peter muttered bitterly, tossing words like daggers. “Really put the heat on me— M'actually flattered.” Salaciously, he flashed his canines with a wink. “But ya didn’t hafta go to all that trouble, Frank. If y'wanted to get me alone in a dark room, y'coulda just hit me up on Grindr.”

“Are you done?” he replied witheringly.

“Oh, c’mon,” Peter taunted, equal parts threatening and scandalous. “I mean—they don’t call ya ‘The Punisher’ for nothin’, right? Well, go on. Punish me, Daddy. Why doncha just bend me over your knee?”

Frank’s eyes flicked to the black, mirrored glass window, shaking his head in frustration. “Always a comedian,” Castle huffed, annoyed. “Between you and Wade Wilson, it’s like watchin’ a hundred-car pile-up of clown cars. Can’t even be just a little real, not even for a second—” 

“That’s not true,” he pouted. “My tits are real...”

Fed up, Castle shook his head and grumbled, “Y’think everything's is a joke! Can you at least pretend like you give a shit about any of this—?” 

Peter’s temper flared suddenly, hitting a flashpoint that boiled the humor out of their rapport. “Y’know what I think?” he snapped back, eyes dark with rage. “I think you’re a God-damn hypocrite! That’s what I think! You and this whole corrupt, bullshit organization. That’s the joke.”

Frank shook his head, grinding his teeth. “There you go. Always a martyr.”

“Again, with the religious talk?” Peter rolled his eyes into the back of his head while letting out a dramatic sigh. “Look, ‘m’not interested in joining your little MLM cult-club, alright?”

“‘Mob Boss,’ my ass,” Frank scoffed. “Ya act like a fuckin’ child! Always whining about being the victim! Like you’re the only one in this city who's ever lost somethin’! Arrogant prick, I did three tours in Iraq while you were doodling in your diary! I was washing the blood of my brothers off my uniform while you were crying into your pillow at night! People die! Thousands of ‘em, every day! All tragedies, all the time, yet— somehow—yours is special!”

Frank’s voice boomed off the concrete walls, patience shattered. “You wanna talk about hypocrisy?” Castle said sharply. “Punishment?! How about three weeks ago in Forest Hills? Right in your backyard. Cops got a call about a domestic dispute. When they got there, the perp somehow ended up with a bullet hole in the back of his head, even though no one in the house owned a gun. You know anything about that?”

Peter straightened his lips into a thin line, lifting his chin. “Sounds like the dispute was resolved.”

“How about that hedge fund manager that committed suicide last spring?” Frank said, skewering him with his gaze. “The one that decided to swallow a container full of gasoline and light up a cigarette before jumpin’ off a roof on Park Avenue?”

“Tragic,” Peter replied, deadpan. “I read about it in the news. Guess the shame of stealing $8 million dollars of pension money from a firefighters union must’ve really burned him up inside.”

Agitated, Frank scowled with his eyes narrowed into slits. “How ‘bout in Brooklyn last fall? How do three seasoned drug pushers end up OD’ing on half their own supply of Fentanyl?”

Peter remained expressionless. “Dunno, Frank. Guess the Lord works in mysterious ways." The attorney huffed with nostrils flaring. By contrast, Peter idly see-sawed his head. "Rather poetic," he said, "as far as justice goes.” 

“That’s what I call ‘punishment,’ Parker. Not justice! Vengeance! Plain. Simple. And cold-blooded.”

Peter sat up, leaning forward as his colorless eyes flashed with rage. “Before you accuse me of anything else you can’t prove—especially the messes that New York’s Finest shoulda handled—how ‘bout you explain to me how two innocent women were butchered and burned to death in Midtown and not a single arrest has been made?”

Frank turned silent.

“How ‘bout the dozens of immigrant families who’re bein’ forced against their will to launder the Mayor’s drug money so he can spend it on campaign ads?”

The other man’s jaw clenched while Peter continued his attack. “Let’s keep goin’ shall we?” he hissed. “Tell me how a Russian oligarch and his buddies park a yacht in the harbor—filled with stolen girls—children, practically—and somehow just... get away?” Veins protruded from his neck as anger rippled through his chest. 

“Got any answers for me, Counselor?” Peter spat harshly, jabbing his index finger at Castle as far as he could while in handcuffs. “Wanna phone a friend? How ‘bout you call your boss, yeah? Why don’t you ask Wilson Fisk? Ask yourself! If you’re such a holy man, then how can you work for the Devil?! How can you even sleep at night, huh?I”

Outwardly, Frank was stoic with nothing but a crease between his brows to telegraph his thoughts. Inwardly, Peter could hear the attorney’s heart rate drumming up as Peter relentlessly dressed him down. Castle’s jaw was locked tight, holding his breath.

“And tell me one more thing,” Peter added, eyes flashing with rage. “How many times do you think about what woulda happened if I hadn’t been in the Park that night?” He blurted out the statement with a livid snarl and a dry throat. “What if I hadn’t intervened in the Blacksmith deal? What woulda happened if I hadn’t gotten your wife and kids outta there before the guns started goin’ off? You ever think about that!?”

Peter’s voice buckled on the last word. Memories of the violent night in Central Park five years ago flooded them both, bringing a tidal wave of conflicting emotion that swallowed him up. 

It was Peter that covertly led the FBI to a plan to eliminate several gangs (and Peter’s enemies) at once. Practically a gift from the gods, it seemed, to take out all of Peter’s competition in one swoop. 

Once it was clear to the young mob boss that the FBI cared more about making headlines than making sure the park was clear of innocent people, Peter chose to intervene. In the end, it was a disaster anyway.

When the other gangs realized they were being set up, a shootout erupted. Lives were lost. Peter saved as many people as he could, including Frank Castle and his family. For everyone else, it was still a tragedy. 

Gwen included.

It was the first and last time the two men had met. And subsequently, a night that neither of them ever talked about. 

Until now.

Peter’s eyes glazed over, tortured by the consequences of his choices. A tidal wave of conflicting emotions swallowed him up as his mind flooded with horrible thoughts. Betrayal, and resentment, and bitter, evil, disgusting jealousy that Peter could save Frank’s family but not his own.

Peter looked contemplative, then. Haunted. He fixed his weary eyes on Frank, continuing to unravel.

“And I’m gonna level with ya, pal,” Peter said in an unnervingly soft tone of voice. “Fuck. You. If you think that you and I are the same. You and I are not the same. Never will be.” Heartache pierced his throat, compressing his voice. He jerked his thumb toward himself. “Because somebody saved you.”

Tears glistened as Peter breathed hotly through flared nostrils. “Fuck your judgment!” he growled. “Because if what happened to my family happened to your family—ya wouldn't last a goddamn day! You’d be a nut job! You'd be beggin' for a bullet in ya head, rather than see what I’ve seen!” 

Fury vibrated through the younger man’s being, indignation piercing each sentence. “I don’t give a shit what nickname they call you,” Peter seethed, “in the media... in the Marines... not even in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade! When it’s your family filled with bullet holes—believe me— that shit hits different.”

Peter’s eyes were wild—black with anger, wet with tears. “‘You wouldn't like who you'd become either?’” he repeated, muttering spitefully. “Fuck you!" Peter’s voice echoed, bouncing off the walls and reverberating in Frank’s chest. 

He took a measured breath. His throat bobbed, cords pulled tight. "I may not be a religious man," Peter added as his chest heaved, "but I pray you never have to find out.” His volume abruptly dropped, adding a foreboding sentiment to the words. Like whispering a dark secret. A warning.

Blinding, white hot rage obliterating everything in its path. Scouring any sign of life before its existence.

Castle sat stoically with his arms crossed. Breathless from his outburst, Peter slowly retracted himself back into his seat. Frank studied him with a contemplative gaze and a tight-lipped mouth. 

Until he broke his silence. “Every night.” 

It was barely a whisper. Peter blinked at him with a crooked brow while the other man held Peter in his gaze.

“Every single night,” Frank answered, a little louder, “I think about what would’ve happened to my family if you hadn’t been there.”

Peter pressed his lips together, jaw flexing stiffly. Mist gathered on his lashes. He drew a shaky breath, lip trembling. To keep his eyes from betraying him further, he hardened his brow.

“You’re a hero, Peter,” Castle said simply. It was just a fact. “And a good man.”

Peter averted his gaze, casting it down while he swallowed a thick lump in his throat. 

“You have the power to do good,” he said. “So much more than you realize.” Frank’s eyes swelled with something like reverence and admiration for his antithetical counterpart. “And yeah,” he noted matter-of-factly, “I do pray." He watched him placidly and empathetic. "And when I do, I pray that one day, other people will see you for the man you really are. And maybe... just maybe—you'll see it, too.” 

Shooting pain in his fingers alerted Peter to the fact that his knuckles were clenched white. He kept his head lowered, eyes hidden and fixed on the shackles around his wrists. 

“I pray that you find faith in yourself,” Castle said, then. His soft voice sliced through Peter’s toughened heart. The older man’s lip tightened into a line, his deep voice thick with sorrow. “And salvation... from yourself.”

Peter looked upward. The attorney gazed back at him in earnest. The silence which followed felt like the end of an era.

“You and I want the same thing,” Frank then said, returning to a sense of formality. “You want to expose Wilson Fisk as the Kingpin. So do I.” 

Peter studied Frank’s heart—and his own. Steady. True.

“The only difference,” Castle added, “is I want to do it right: by the law. Justice. Not revenge.” Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes. “Because if we can’t do this right, then it’s not worth doing at all.”

“The only difference is,” Peter countered, “when I take Fisk down, he’s gonna stay down.”

Frank gazed at him incredulously. “That’s nice. Good stuff. You want me to write that down and read it at your funeral?” Peter glared bitterly but had nothing to say. 

“Cards on the table,” Frank explained. “I don’t have enough evidence to charge you. Not today. Now you can walk outta here, go back to your old ways. End up in a casket, or in a jail cell sooner or later. Take my word, there are plenty of people in this building that want you dead. You won’t last a night at Ryker’s without someone tryin’ to stab a broken toothbrush through that giraffe neck of yours.”

“Sounds like it’s gonna be painful,” Peter muttered in a low voice. “For them.”

Frank fixed him with a stern glare. “Alright, smartass. Then what? These people are comin’ for blood. And they’re not going to stop with just yours.” He paused, then added, “You should know that, more than anybody.”

Peter had nothing to say to that. The thought alone stole his breath.

“You wanna fight the system?” Frank said. “You wanna take down Fisk? Then you bring me proof to put ‘em away. All of ‘em. Fisk, Pierce, his little ‘Shield’ SS hit squad. Every last one of them.”

Peter bit his tongue, contemplating the idea.

“And most importantly, you keep your hands clean,” Frank declared sternly. “No more dead car thieves in the river. No more pimps gettin’ scraped off the subway tracks.” His tone was cold, eyes sharp as he skewered Peter threateningly. “There’s enough killing in this city as it is. You cross that line, and I will come for you, you understand? Deal or no deal, our history be damned—you are not allowed to take the law into your own hands. You got that?”

Peter raised his chin, peering at him through the fringe of his slitted eyes. 

The clock ticked on. Primordial elements as old as time surrounded them. And for reasons that Peter could not fully understand, he walked into a coffee shop one day and walked out with hope. A dangerous seed. 

A force that could save the whole city. The world.

Maybe even his own soul.

The district attorney came to a stand, holding the mob boss in his stare. “You’re a free man, Peter,” Frank said. “What happens next is up to you.”

After another moment, he headed for the door. As soon as he placed his hand on the doorknob, he glanced back at the man who he owed his life. With a stone expression, Castle made one final plea.

“Whatever you do... Don’t let me catch you.”

It was half past noon when Honey walked into her modest apartment in the Theater District off 45th Street. 

Flipping on the lights, she peered hesitantly inside. Stepping through the threshold felt like tumbling down a wormhole through time.

More or less, the studio apartment looked exactly the same as it did nearly a half-year ago, when she left for work at the coffee shop. 

It was a bit tidier than how she’d left it—her cheetah print throw blanket neatly folded on the edge of her thrifted loveseat. The smell confirmed that all the perishable food had been discarded. An empty vase sat alone on a scuffed, white, gateleg table that was crammed into a corner of her kitchen. The daisies that it once held had wilted and been tossed long ago.

The world was alien to her. It was like walking through a dream, or onto a theater set piece constructed for a play about her life. These were the possessions of a person she didn’t know anymore.

“We had someone come by earlier with groceries,” a voice said from behind her. She turned as Karen Page strolled into the apartment wearing camel wide-leg wool trousers and a matching double-breasted blazer from The Row paired with Salvatore Ferragamo Vara-bow pumps. “A maid came in once a week to tidy up, but other than that everything should be as you left it.”

Honey blinked with wide eyes as she watched the strawberry-blonde haired woman breeze through her home—former home. She pulled a rolling carry-on case behind her filled with a small portion of Honey’s wardrobe. Karen came to a stop in the center of the apartment. With neatly manicured nails, she produced a keyring from her blazer pocket.

“New keys,” she explained, handing it over to Honey. “Any pertinent mail has been left for you on the counter. The new wifi password is on the sticky note next to it, along with your new cell phone number.”

She had almost forgotten. Honey reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the latest model of iPhone. She stared down at the foreign object queasily. This one had no spider decal, she noted. 

“There’s also a debit card, too,” Karen explained methodically, as if reciting a monotonous dialogue. “New bank account information is in the folder. We’ve made a small deposit to compensate you for your troubles, at least until you find a new job. But you shouldn’t have any more problems from here on out.”

A few seconds of silence passed as Karen eyed the peeling paint on the walls. “Well. I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said, straightforward. 

Honey’s eyes darted over to Karen as the woman turned to leave mouth “Wait!” she called out, her forehead creased and mouth hung agape. Karen stopped in front of the doorway. “Wait... is that it?” she said, dismayed. 

Karen blinked her radiant blue eyes. “Was there something else you needed?”

Her nose crinkled at that. “What about Peter?” Honey said, almost in a demanding tone. “What happens to him?”

Karen cast her eyes to the floor, sighing uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that.”

Honey glared at her crossly. “Well, can I at least talk to him—?”

“It would be best to limit contact at this time.” The pleasant formality of her voice made Honey want to punch her.

“For how long?” she scoffed.

Karen gazed at her for several moments of silence. Which continued on, until Honey realized that an answer wasn’t coming.

“We’ll be in touch,” Karen added gently.

As the woman stepped out into the tenement corridor, Honey nearly jolted after her. “Wait... M-Ms. Page?”

She waited.

“What do I do now?” she asked meekly. Her voice sounded timid to her own ears.

Karen stared back at her then lifted up one of her shoulders. “Whatever you want.” 

And with that, Honey was left alone for the day.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Continue to Epilogue

[cosmicmote]

commercialization of life

I roll out of bed

and head to the kitchen

heat water for Lipton

black tea and caffienated

mmm mmm good

later what's for breakfast

Cheerios, or Quaker oatmeal

since I can no longer pancake with Aunt Jemima

and snap crackle pop is a 3 piece meal for dinner now

at least water isn't Nestle, yet

there's Elkay and China Lux for in-between times

with Frigidaire and

I saw someone yesterday on another somewhat life platform

she had changed her last name to match the brand name of her head

and if one looks just right, it's too easy to do,

the brand names all line right up there too, in her head and everywhere else

much like this platform we refer to as life, it's real

a whole Trompe community full of Pokemons in the streets

while I Kindle at home for my collections, it makes for more fruitful loops

and a silent Ring for my door

all of which is delivered by Casper and Amazon

and there are Candles and Cauldrons for protestations too

and we can recall that there used to Burning Life

and from My Space to Tik Tok now you yourself can easily be a brand

or even logo too, call it Fame

while my cat impatiently waits for Fancy Feast

everyone can learn how to fly or be a shero

maybe live forever like Kiss

but oh please not like Nickelodeon

they've been in the news and are still going strong

(unlike Boeing)

brought to you by

words ©spacetree 2024

we'll be back in 2 minutes

[onenettvchannel]

THIS JUST IN: Nickelodeon announces exciting TLH film sequel 'No Time to Spy: A Loud House Movie' releases on Paramount+ in America by Summer 2024 [#OneNETnewsEXCLUSIVE]

ROYAL WOODS, MICHIGAN -- A new sequel film reportedly announced last Friday (April 26th, 2024 -- Michigan local time), based on the Nickelodeon's hit original animated series 'The Loud House' is set to premiere exclusively on the American streaming platform, known as 'Paramount+'.

'Kyle Anthony Marshall', whose previously a Canadian animator and the current Executive Producer and Director at Nickelodeon, who has directed several episodes of the aforementioned animated cartoon series of 'The Loud House' said that the new movie sequel is set to premiere to stream all across America by Summer 2024, with the help of animated production company duos of 'Jam Filled Entertainment' (JFE) in Canada and 'Nickelodeon Animation Studio' (NAS) in Burbank, California, United States of America (U.S.A.).

Moreover, 'No Time to Spy: A Loud House Movie' is the 2nd TLH movie franchise, following the 1st streaming film of 'The Loud House Movie' which is previously released on Netflix a few years back in the late-August 2021.

Before that from 2 years ago in the fall of 2022, a Nickelodeon employee showed an untitled movie sequel title was leaked on their 'LinkedIn' profile, as obtained exclusively from a Californian-based YouTuber 'Vailskibum'. They accidentally revealed that a sequel to 'The Loud House Movie 2' is supposedly in the works, per the individual role of 'Associate Picture Editor' at the Los Angeles Metropolitan Area (LAMA) for Nickelodeon Animation Studio (NAS). Within a few years later, we do confirmed that the actual, legally untitled movie sequel title is 'No Time to Spy: A Loud House Movie'.

Citing exclusively from an entertainment news blog 'NickALive!'… A sneak peek trailer released on Instagram Reels video (owned by Meta Platforms Inc. [MPi]) showcases 'Lincoln Albert Loud', his friends and the 'Loud' family on one of their biggest and 'LOUDest' adventures yet, engaging in various spy-themed activities.

As the trailer video proceeds, fast-action scenes and humorous moments from the 2nd movie sequel franchise of TLH are at display to build hype for a televised online streaming release. First, for the background context, there is a supposed male person wearing black jacket & pants and light green t-shirt, standing outside below the wooden dock to deliver and transport something illegal going on. Lincoln is investigated on the spot for what was behind this mess, as well as the rest of his friends and the 'Loud' family.

The video wraps up with a release date announcement at the end of the IG reels video, to witness the 'Loud' family's thrilling spy adventure.

You can catch the action to stream on the 2nd movie sequel of 'No Time to Spy: A Loud House Movie'. Premieres this Summer 2024, only on Paramount+. Schedule release date may subject to change.

MOVIE LOGO COURTESY: Nickelodeon Animations Studios via IG Reels VIDEO BACKGROUND PROVIDED BY: Tegna

SOURCE: *https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FU-k9C_wVYw [Reference YT VIDEO via Vailskibum94] *https://www.instagram.com/p/C6PFZjHvObx/ [Referenced IG PHOTO via Kyle Marshall] *https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6O9i0YxLbb/ [Referenced IG Reels VIDEO via Nickelodeon] *https://twitter.com/pugavida/status/1783940895953588273 [Referenced Captioned X Network PHOTO via Miguel Angel Puga] and *https://www.nickalive.net/2024/04/no-time-to-spy-paramount-announces-new.html [Referenced News Article via NickAlive! News Bureau]

-- OneNETnews Team

[therafanatics]

MR. TOPHAT - ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK? / HYPOTHETICAL SPIN-OFF (2019-2024)

As we well know, almost five years ago during the Halloween period the reboot of the 90s anthology television series "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" concluded with the defeat of the main villain called Mr. Tophat.

Rafael Casal as the enigmatic and cruel circus director Mr. Tophat. The still photo belongs to Nickelodeon.

He owned a majestic and terrifying amusement luna park, known as the "Carnival of Doom" usually located around the woods as the caravan traveled from town to town.

The official Carnival of Doom logo, created by Westlake Design.

This possibility was given to him by an evil entity after the events of the tragic accident that occurred in 1944 when he was just an ordinary mortal named Marcus Cochran, receiving a magical staff.

However, a prophecy would have shaken his new condition with the arrival of a little girl who would have remembered the existence of the carnival with the face of the owner annex, upsetting the balance.

This happened in the present day with the arrival of Rachel Carpenter in the new town of Oregon, at first marginalized and then united with a group of peers who were part of the Midnight Society, where they told scary stories around a bonfire in the woods.

The Midnight Society of which Rachel definitively becomes part of the last episode "Destroy All Tophats." The still photo belongs to Nickelodeon.

During a long trip to Idaho to confront him personally, his trusted assistant lures them into a trap well orchestrated by Tophat himself.

He reveals that he has a twisted mental link with her due to the prophecy through her memories, ultimately stating that the full power of which he is the absolute master does not come from the hat, as was originally explained to her by Bartholomew, but rather from the artifact which he holds in his hand.

Lyliana Wray and Rafael Casal in their respective roles of Rachel Carpenter and Mr. Tophat. The stills photos belongs to Nickelodeon.

Escaping from his clutches and freeing the friends from his spell, the five boys encounter difficult obstacles to overcome within the evil carnival. Mr. Tophat offers her a truce in exchange for the stick, but she adamantly refuses and then defeats him once and for all.

It is not clear, however, whether he really died after the last words expressed, indeed it suggests that he could return in an as yet unspecified future.

The demonic entity that made him such an individual seems to still be around, so rather than a real conclusion it seems rather an ending open to new possibilities.

Rafael Casal managed to give a worthy depth to the character, making it iconic despite being niche. A man longing for acceptance and approval, pushing him to perform immoral acts in order to make his deceased father proud.

Despite being the villain to be defeated, he proved to be the true protagonist of the story, perfectly moving every single plot thread and triggering all the events.

Rafael Casal credited in an opening credit sequence in the homonymous TV series. The main title photo belongs to Philmograph.

So it seems more than right to me to create a possible spin-off centered on the disturbing and fascinating Master of Ceremonies which serves above all as a sequel with various more in-depth flashbacks to his past, then experiencing new and daring adventures with his own carnival. I really hope that Nickelodeon might consider the idea one day.

[dweemeister]

By Josh Rottenberg

July 9, 2024

(Los Angeles Times) — Legend has it that the iconic star-crested mountain logo of Paramount Pictures was born in 1914 from a simple napkin doodle by co-founder W.W. Hodkinson, inspired by his childhood memories of the majestic peaks in Utah. The fledgling company’s name, the story goes, was taken from a sign on the side of an apartment building. From such humble origins, the oldest film studio in Hollywood would come to be known as the Mountain.

In recent years, this once-grand peak has seen more than its share of erosion, as Paramount has fallen behind its studio rivals and struggled to adapt to the advent of streaming. Still, with a historic lot in the heart of Los Angeles and a stable of hit franchises, including “Mission: Impossible,” “Transformers” and “Star Trek,” the Mountain remains a vital piece of Hollywood real estate worth billions, part of a media empire that also includes CBS and such cable networks as MTV and Nickelodeon. In an era of increasing consolidation, the question was not so much whether Paramount would be sold but when and to whom.

With the newly announced acquisition of Shari Redstone’s holding company National Amusements Inc. by tech scion David Ellison‘s Skydance Media in a $8.4-billion deal, the Mountain is coming under new management. Now, Paramount Pictures will embark on the next chapter in its storied history at a time of deep existential anxiety and uncertainty for the movie business as a whole.

“Given the changes in the industry, we want to fortify Paramount for the future while ensuring that content remains king,” Redstone, chair of Paramount Global and chief executive of National Amusements, said in a statement announcing the deal Sunday. “Our hope is that the Skydance transaction will enable Paramount’s continued success in this rapidly changing environment.”

* * *

Opinion from yours truly: "Content remains king." Empty corporate speak, most likely. Most of the conversation has been surrounding on how Paramount can double down on franchises (I love Star Trek and soccer, but having Trek and soccer be the backbone for a streaming service you hope to rival Netflix and others is just asking for disaster) rather than create anything original.

Nevertheless, this was a far better outcome — Paramount's financial straits were such that someone needed to buy it out — than the alternative (Sony purchasing Paramount). The Skydance purchase of Paramount ensures audiences and creatives in Hollywood don't lose a major American studio, another outlet to take creative talents to. If Sony (which owns Columbia) had purchased Paramount, it would have been a similar situation to Disney's purchase of Fox. In that scenario, Paramount would almost certainly lose its major movie studio status, face devastating layoffs (far more than what is likely heading Paramount's way very soon), and would become subordinate to Columbia within the same corporate family.

[lok-repository]

New Avatar/Korra mobile game info

From the article: Tilting Point, one of the leading global publishers of free-to-play games, and real-time strategy game developer AN Games, under license from Paramount Consumer Products, are developing a multiplayer strategy mobile game focused on Nickelodeon’s Avatar: The Last Airbender franchise. Based on the renowned animated television series Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra, the strategic mobile game will have players explore the Avatar world, interact with beloved characters and work together with other players to defeat a Barbarian Death Cult that worships an evil spirit set on dominating the world. Launching in 2024, the game’s official title and additional details will be announced in the coming months.  In this multiplayer strategy mobile game, players will take on the role of a leader tasked with building an army and community to restore balance in the Avatar world. Strategy is key as players will need to build cities, manage resources, construct and upgrade buildings, explore the world, and engage in tactical combat to become victorious. With a focus on city building, cooperative gameplay, and exploration, players will work together to expand territories, manage resources, and restore harmony to the Avatar world.

[tacoma-narrows]

I'm working on completely overhauling my current coaster credits ranking (currently at 160, def getting one more in August, maybe more later in the year)

To kinda get an idea as to how I want things to be, I made a tier list of my credits. This is in no way set in stone, just kind of a ballpark idea. I'll probably post a more definitive ranking once I get it more sorted out. This includes defunct coasters as well. The pic is kinda small, even when clicked on. To see it a bit more clearly, open the image in a new tab

Rides with duplicate names have their park's logo on the icon, but for frame of reference, these are the parks I've been to that have coasters represented here:

Cedar Point

Kings Dominion

Kings Island

Carowinds

California's Great America

Dorney Park

Six Flags Great Adventure

Six Flags Fiesta Texas

Hersheypark

Knoebels

Busch Gardens Tampa

Dollywood

Kennywood

Fun Spot Kissimmee

Nickelodeon Universe (NJ)

Jenkinson's Boardwalk

Family Kingdom

Land of Make Believe

New Jersey State Fair

Kemah Boardwalk

Mountain Creek Waterpark

Goats On The Roof

ZDT's

Feel free to ask any questions abt my placements for any of these rides, I'm happy to talk abt them haha

[fidenciojesusfan92]

New Herion Logo

[dailynicknews]

via NickALive!

[thenightling]

I'm going to sound like an old fart here but after seeing some posts of Nightmare before Christmas Valentine's Day merchandise and seeing a Youtube video complaining about there being too much Nightmare before Christmas merchandise allow me to give you a weird throw back.

Imagine being eleven-years-old in 1993. Nightmare before Christmas comes out and you are fast obsessed. One night during SNICK (Saturday Night Nickelodeon) you see a commercial for the action figures. Your loving mother buys you some of the figures at Toys R Us as fast as she is able. But then... A few months later it all disappears from store shelves. No Nightmare before Christmas merchandise anywhere to be found.

This was my teenage-hood. Between 1994 until 1999 Nightmare before Christmas merchandise was VERY hard to find. I had a shelf in my bedroom dedicated to what I could find. For part of the 90s I was lucky to find one item a year.

A neighbor even gave me a Sally doll without a head (her son lost the head) and my mother cleverly constructed a replacement head that looked surprisingly genuine for the doll. She used a pillow case the same color as the doll's skin, dark red yarn for the hair, a tennis ball for the interior head wrapped in a white sock for the whites of the eyes, it was really well done. I cherished her. And when my mother finally saw the original doll head on a reproduction from 2003 she was proud of herself at how accurate her own version had been going just by the movie appearance of the character and some old sketches from the Making-of book.

In 1999 or so Nightmare before Christmas became popular in Japan so new merchandise started to slowly creep over back the US, especially through Ebay (Nightmare before Christmas was one of the first big searches on ebay when it was new).

In 2003 there was the Nightmare before Christmas 10th anniversary and much of the 1993 merchandise that had become scarce was now being reproduced.

In 2006 Nightmare before Christmas was released again cinematically, this time in 3D. And Disney had finally put its name all over it, instead of their Touchstone division to distance themselves. This is actually an important distinction because the older merchandise with the Touchstone logo and no "Disney's" are still the more sought after collectables.

From that point on Nightmare before Christmas merchandise became... well, common. Particularly around Halloween. Today I can't even keep up with what's out there.

But when you talk about how over-marketed Nightamre before Christmas is, how "Hot Topic" it all is, and how Jack is more of a brand than a character, please remember that eleven-year-old who had to roam store after store just to find a plastic wrist watch in 1994. And how those of us who loved it from the start were starved for nearly a decade because it hadn't achieved "Cult classic" status yet.

Sometimes I think eleven-year-old me would be jealous but maybe she'd also be burnt out with how common it is now. It's not something private and personal anymore.

I still remember listening to the soundtrack on audio cassette with my walkman and some kid asking what I was listening to and when I said "Nightmare before Christmas" I got a "Never heard of 'em." I think how jealous eleven-year-old me would be of hearing Danny Elfman's original demo recordings (which weren't available until 2006), his annual concerts of the songs, and even the unreleased unused song "This Time" song. How twelve-year-old me would have killed for that.

[aurazoo]

new Nickelodeon logo (after the revolution)

[terrascosmicstartover]

Some influences on my comic...

Cartoon CARTOONS. Pretty self-explanatory. Cartoon Network practically raised me in the late 1990s and early-to-mid 2000s. I liked Nickelodeon a lot, too, but I gravitated towards CN for not only their dynamic and varied original shows, but also their then *vast* library of Warner Bros. cartoons, MGM cartoons, and the Hanna-Barbera catalogue. And of course, [adult swim] had a massive influence on this as well. The varied art styles alone, they're just so burned into my brain, how can I not draw something and have it look kinda like - say - DEXTER'S LABORATORY or THE GRIM ADVENTURES OF BILLY & MANDY?

CRASH BANDICOOT in general, particularly the original trilogy for the PS1 from Naughty Dog, and CRASH BANDICOOT 4: IT'S ABOUT TIME... Absolutely. In fact, when I was watching a playthrough of IT'S ABOUT TIME from a favorite commentary group (BrainScratchComms guest starring Caddicarus), they were on the space levels, and they talked about going to restaurants like Denny's at 4am... And I just got this image of two characters in a diner somewhere in the cosmos, just up super-late and eating this early in the morning. That was more or less the genesis of my webcomic, in addition to a few other things... In a way I gotta thank them for that. Anyways, the space and futuristic city levels in the CRASH games? Big influences, from CRASH BANDICOOT: WARPED's Future Frenzy/Gone Tomorrow to CRASH 4's Bermugula's Orbit. Yes indeed.

Not just GALAGA... But also the cabinet art to *many* '70s and '80s arcade games. Heck, just games from that period alone. The Golden Age of Video Games. A long-time passion and hyperfixation of mine. But I wanted to include the GALAGA art specifically, given the space setting.

The logo for GALAGA was an influence on my studio logo. The art style for many arcade cabinets, for me, recalls the mesmerizing and varied art of '60s and early '70s album covers...

Hence... The inclusion of a late 1960s album cover. That's for CAULDRON by Fifty-Foot Hose, a short-lived San Francisco psych-rock group. CAULDRON, by some accounts, was either a late 1967 or late 1968 release. Either way, the album - which I totally hear when drawing for this comic - is like a mix of that Frisco psych vibe with lots of homemade electronic instruments drizzling cosmic effects throughout. Quite a unique and game-changing album, a little ahead of its time perhaps. This was around the same time the Silver Apples' self-titled debut came out, which was also a marriage of psychedelic rock and otherworldly mechanic noises.

...

Now for some real-life people who were inspirations for the main character, Terra Forma...

So we've got... Avril Lavigne, Ashnikko, Lauran Hibberd, and Debbie Harry of - in case someone lives under a rock - Blondie fame.

I feel Terra's a got a little bit of the early aughts pop-punk edge of Lavigne (heck, she STILL has that edge. One of her new songs, 'Bite Me', is a BANGER), and certainly Ashnikko's blue hair. I feel Ashnikko's music also has a unique edge to it, as does they, and there's a peculiar weirdness to them that I feel Terra and her weird-ass adventures kind of line up with. Hibberd also has that pop/punk rock kickass girl edge, too. What I also find great about Hibberd is how she unabashedly talks about her IBS. I suffer from IBS, and so does Terra. I guess being so cool means you have to be cursed with a garbage stomach! And of course, Debbie Harry needs next to no explanation, an OG punk rock chick.

Funny how they are all musicians... Terra dabbled in that before!

...