GIMME MORE POWERSTONES!!!
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3 May, 2006
Alex's name had stopped being a headline and started being a weather system.
The industry adjusted around it.
After the Oscars, his inbox became a war zone of agents, managers, producers, and publicists all pretending not to be desperate while being deeply, spiritually desperate. Then Titan Studios made it official. The announcement dropped early in the morning, clean and devastating.
TITAN STUDIOS CONFIRMS OPEN AUDITIONS FOR LIVE-ACTION SPIDER-MAN.
Hollywood promptly lost its mind.
Projects were paused. Schedules were mysteriously cleared. Agents began making phone calls that started with casual greetings and ended with desperate optimism. Actors who had never considered tights suddenly found deep emotional connections to responsibility and trauma.
Everyone wanted in.
But a very small number of people did not have to audition.
They received an email from Alex Wilson himself.
...
[Andrew Garfield]
Andrew was mid commercial shoot, standing under blinding lights, holding a cup of soda he was not allowed to drink. He was supposed to smile like liquid sugar had just solved all of his problems.
"Again," the director called. "This time happier."
Andrew nodded, reset his expression, and waited for the cue.
His phone vibrated in his back pocket.
Normally, that would have stayed there. Commercial shoots did not care about your personal life. They cared about teeth and angles. But something in his gut twisted, sharp and sudden, like his instincts had been trained for this exact moment.
The thing is, he has been waiting for a call or a text from Titan after the success of the Spider-Man movie and the ongoing animated series. Back then, Alex told him that he'd consider Andrew if he decided to make a live-action movie. So, yeah, he was excited after hearing about the audition this morning. He has actually planned to sign up for the audition after the shoot. And now that he got the message, he couldn't help but check.
"Sorry," he said quickly, already stepping out of position. "One second."
The director sighed. "Andrew, we are rolling."
"I know," he replied, already checking his phone. "This will take less time than pretending this soda tastes like joy."
A notification sat at the top of his screen.
From: Alex Wilson
Andrew stared at it and blinked a couple of times.
He opened it with hands that suddenly felt much less steady than they had been moments ago.
Andrew,
I am casting Peter Parker.
I would like you to play him.
If you are interested, text back and we will talk details soon.
Alex.
There were no exclamation points or dramatic buildup... Just a simple message like the first time when Titan recruited him for the voiceover.
Andrew forgot how to breathe.
The director cleared his throat loudly. "Andrew?"
Andrew looked up, eyes wide, mouth half open, phone still clutched in his hand.
"I am so sorry," he said, voice shaking. "I just got an email that might fundamentally alter the trajectory of my life."
The director blinked. "Is it good?"
Andrew nodded slowly. "I think I am about to be Spider-Man."
The set went quiet.
Then some of the crew began to laugh thiking he was joking. But when he showed them the message, they went silent. Then someone swore. "Lucky son of a bitch!" Then the director stared at him for a long second before waving his hand.
"Take five," he said. "Actually, take whatever amount of time you need."
Andrew sat down hard on a folding chair, staring at his phone like it might vanish if he blinked too much.
He did not blink.
...
[Willem Dafoe]
Willem Dafoe had committed fully to the idea of rest.
He walked barefoot on the beach, leaving his phone in his hotel room on purpose. Sand stuck to his ankles as he returned to the path, holding a paper cup of coffee. The ocean was calm, and his thoughts were calm as well. This was such a peaceful day without any calls or anything urgent.
Then he noticed the hotel concierge jogging toward him with the kind of urgency normally reserved for fires or misplaced celebrities.
"Mr. Dafoe," the concierge called out, slightly out of breath. "I am so sorry to interrupt, but you have several urgent calls waiting in your room. Your manager sounded… intense."
Willem stopped.
That word alone ruined the peace.
He sighed, thanked the concierge, and turned back toward the hotel. Each step across the sand felt like leaving a different version of himself behind. By the time he reached the elevator, he already suspected the vacation was over.
Inside his room, the phone rang again almost immediately, as if it had been holding its breath.
He answered.
"This better be urgent," Willem said calmly, setting his coffee down.
"It is," his manager replied, skipping every greeting. "Alex Wilson wants you."
Willem leaned back against the table, eyes closing.
"That could mean many things," he said. "Some of which come with lawsuits."
"Green Goblin," his manager said. "Live-action Spider-Man. Wilson has personally offered you the role. You don't need to audition."
There was silence on Willem's end.
Then he laughed. It was the laugh of a man who had just been handed permission to be dangerous on a very large scale.
"Well," Willem said, glancing toward the open balcony and the ocean beyond it. "That explains why my vacation just ended."
His manager hesitated. "So… is that a yes?"
Willem smiled slowly, already imagining the grin.
"Oh," he said. "That is a very enthusiastic yes."
...
[Emma Stone]
Emma was on a small television set, hair pinned back, playing a scene that required exactly two lines and one emotional beat she had already nailed three times. She sat on the edge of her mark, waiting for the lighting to be adjusted, scrolling absentmindedly through her phone.
Then she saw the email.
She read the subject line.
She read the sender.
She read the first sentence.
Her breath hitched.
"Emma?" the assistant director called. "We are ready for you."
She stood automatically, legs moving on muscle memory alone.
"Okay," she said, then stopped, then laughed softly. "Actually, sorry. I need one minute."
The assistant frowned. "We are rolling."
"I know," Emma replied, eyes still glued to her phone. "But I think my life just made a left turn."
She stepped aside, reading the message again, slower this time.
Emma,
I am casting Gwen Stacy.
I think you would be perfect.
If you are interested, text back and we'll take details soon.
Alex.
Her hands shook.
She pressed her phone to her chest and let out a breath she had been holding for years without realizing it.
When she looked back up, her smile was bright and disbelieving.
"I am so sorry," she told the assistant director. "I will give you the best take of my life in exactly sixty seconds."
...
[Alfred Molina]
Alfred Molina was halfway through a plate of pasta, wine glass raised, laughing with his wife about absolutely nothing important.
His phone buzzed on the table.
He ignored it.
It buzzed again.
His wife raised an eyebrow. "Just pick it up."
Alfred sighed and checked it.
Then he froze.
She noticed immediately. "What is it?"
He read the message once more, then set the phone down very carefully, like it might explode if handled incorrectly.
"Apparently," he said slowly, "I have been offered Doctor Octavius."
She blinked. "The one with the arms?"
"Yes," Alfred said. "The one with the arms."
She smiled, warm and proud. "That sounds like a yes."
He nodded, still stunned. "It does. It also sounds like I will be wearing a lot of metal, and I'll finally get to work with Alex. Hopefully, he'll be directing the movie."
She raised her glass. "Congratulations."
He clinked his glass against hers, still smiling like a man whose lunch had unexpectedly turned into history.
...
[Samuel L. Jackson]
The set of Snakes on a Plane was loud, chaotic, and exactly as ridiculous as it sounded.
Samuel L. Jackson stood between takes, sipping coffee, already mentally rewriting his dialogue because it needed more conviction.
Then his manager came running.
Actually running.
Samuel frowned. "If this is about wardrobe, I swear to God."
His manager stopped short, breathing hard. "Alex Wilson."
Samuel blinked. "What about him?"
"He wants you as Nick Fury. Post-credit appearance. Spider-Man live action."
Samuel stared at him for a long second.
Then he smiled slowly, dangerously.
"Well," he said, lowering his sunglasses. "Took him long enough."
The director called out. "Sam, we are ready!"
Samuel turned back, already walking toward his mark. "Give me five minutes," he said. "I am about to join something that will not stop for the next decade."
...
[Robert Downey Jr.]
Robert was in New York for a night shoot, the kind that wrapped late and left the city buzzing just enough to make sleep feel optional. By the time he stepped out of the wardrobe, jacket slung over his shoulder, his phone vibrated with a single message.
Houston's Bar. 30 minutes. You still owe me a drink.
He smiled before replying.
You still owe me two.
The bar was one of those high-end ones with no camera and proper privacy. The bartender did not ask questions and did not care who you were as long as you tipped well.
Alex was already there, seated in a corner booth with his jacket off and sleeves rolled up. He looked more tired than triumphant. Two glasses waited on the table.
"You look like shit," Robert said as he slid into the booth.
Alex smiled faintly. "Thousands of calls and mails and haaa... You know, the usual rush. I barely had time for lunch."
They clinked glasses without ceremony.
"So," Robert said, leaning back. "This is either a friendly drink or the beginning of something big."
"Possibly both," Alex replied.
They talked first. About the shoot. About New York. About how awards season aged you faster than bad relationships ever could. The conversation stayed easy and familiar, the kind that did not rush toward a point because neither of them needed it to.
Eventually, Alex leaned forward slightly.
"I am doing Spider-Man," he said. "Live action."
Robert nodded. "So... Ironman?"
"Yep!" Alex nodded. "Tony Stark. A brief appearance. Post-credit."
Robert did not interrupt.
Alex kept going.
"And then," he added calmly, "two Iron Man movies back to back to build up the proper cinematic verse which will eventually lead to Avengers. So, it'll be the biggest franchise in the history of movies."
For a moment, the noise of the bar seemed to recede.
Robert stared at him, then laughed, shaking his head slowly. "You did not even pretend to ease into that."
Alex smiled. "We are past easing."
Robert lifted his glass, took a sip, and set it down with care.
"I am in," he said. "I will do it."
Alex blinked. "You want details first?"
"No," Robert replied easily. "I do not."
"No questions about timing?"
"No."
"Payment?"
Robert smiled, relaxed and certain. "You do not bring me something like this unless you already know the answer. And I trust you. That is the whole equation."
Alex exhaled, something unspoken loosening in his chest.
"You are sure?"
Robert leaned forward and pointed at him lightly. "You believed in me when the industry had already decided I was a footnote. You stuck your neck out when it was not convenient. Like I wouldn't be here today had you not helped me with those chances and you know... my bad habits. So, if you tell me this story matters and you want me in, then I am in with my 1000%."
They sat in silence for a moment, letting the weight of it settle.
Then Robert grinned. "Also, I get to be Iron Man."
Alex laughed. "That too."
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[POWERSTONES AND REVIEWS PLS]
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[5 advance chs] [All chs available for all tiers] [No double billing.]
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