#SOME not all leather is a byproduct but if that makes you feel okay about cattle farming when it's a huge greenhouse gas emitter...

[massharp1971]

Before you get all pompous about how a leather shoe is more eco-friendly than a plastic one: Just how many plastic feed sacks do you think went into feeding that oh so biodegradeable cow? This is not a leather over plastic argument: this is "we can't individually purchase our way out of ecocide".

[the-darklings]

“ i know it’s late, but i just needed someone and. i guess you always answer when i call. ”

HECTOR AND V? HECTOR AND V ARE SO LOVELY!!

prompt: “ i know it’s late, but i just needed someone and. i guess you always answer when i call. ”

pairing: hector x v (coa)

note: some spoilers from ch19 if you're not caught up.

wc: 658

You’re not sure why you make the call. In the middle of the night. Like some straggler begging for attention. It’s one of the stupidest impulses to overpower you given the circumstances. Oddly enough, he picked up on the second ring, a biting rumble of his voice a good awakening call from your miserable mood.

Perhaps it’s the same exact impulse that made you divulge the truth - the whole truth - to him and not anyone else in the first place.

Because he doesn’t coddle you, doesn’t hold your hand and tell it’s all going to be okay.

And as if to confirm this thought, Hector’s first words to you when you pull open the hotel door are blunt, “You look like shit.”

A common enough phrase coming from his mouth, and you shove down the impulse to snap at him, point out he looks no less shitty. Exhausted, and scowling; his eyebags darker than his hair or supple leather jacket he dons. Every edge of his chiselled face seems to have set in a permanent, pissed off scowl.

“Byproduct of dying,” you respond dully in a greeting, letting him shoulder his way into your room. A toothpick sits between his full lips, eyes instinctively scanning his surroundings. “Sorry if my sorry state offends you.”

“Spare me the pity party, sweetheart,” he grumbles, mean and harsh, a quirk of his eyebrows betraying his annoyance. “You’re not fucking dying. Yet, at least. I thought you said you’re working on it.”

There’s accusation there, as if perhaps you’re not taking the running timer seriously enough. An old instinct wants to flip him off and call him a dick. Which he undoubtedly still is. His favourite setting.

“Working on it,” you muse, a breathlessness to your words that causes his eyes to narrow further. Leather and cigarette smoke tickle your nose when you stagger past him, trudging further into your room. His hulking frame seems to shrink the space despite your effort to increase the distance between you. Your bones ache with every step taken and you grind your jaw; flimsy and weak attempts, but stubbornness is one thing you’ve never lacked. “Doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve gotten results yet.”

You haven’t gotten any.

Hector’s scoff sounds behind you. “Then why the fuck would you call me? I don’t speak poison. Or cheering people up. I don’t do that shit.”

No, he doesn’t. Which is precisely why you did call him. Him - and not anyone else. Aside from the fact others don’t know yet, can’t know, and you’re both aware of it. It’s a pervasive feeling - loneliness mixing with desperation you haven’t felt in a long, long time.

“I know it’s late, but I just needed someone and…” you trail off, sucking in deep breaths yet failing to sense enough oxygen in your lungs. All you do feel is a distinct rattling deep down. A bitter aftertaste of copper is unlikely to be a result of an overactive imagination this time. “I guess you always answer when I call,” you add quietly.

The sheer irony of your words is not lost on you. You’ve never liked each other. It’s no secret. You and Hector have never seen eye to eye. About anything. But something has undoubtedly changed between you as of late. A shift in the tide. A sensation of some anomalous understanding settling between you.

Your head tilts to the side - heavy, too heavy, everything is too heavy as of late - and you peek at him from the corner of your eye.

“It’s my job to answer when you call,” he says, gruff and low. “In case you forgot.”

There’s just enough there, in the low ring of his baritone, that you feel your breath catch - just briefly, just for him. The shadows of your hotel room make Hector appear mighty. Like a warrior of old. War-torn and deadly.

“I haven’t,” you admit softly, not meeting his piercing stare. “And I’m grateful.”

[wiener-soldiers]

how to (not) be internet famous - peter parker

summary: peter parker becomes internet famous overnight and doesn’t exactly know how to deal with it, which causes him to end up in a precarious situation.

words: 4k

warnings: rien, mes amis!

a/n: part of the unsolved mini-series! just wanted to write a lil blurb w some world building before i go into more ghost/ghoul hunting. also goes without saying that this is minimally edited, sorry lol

unsolved masterlist | masterlist | add yourself to the taglist! | faq

Peter Parker did not intend on becoming famous.

It was quite literally an accident—a byproduct of being in the right place in the right time. But, completely out of his control, Peter Parker helped solved an Unsolved mystery.

It was one of Buzzfeed Unsolved’s most viewed episodes; the story of Peter Quill, a little boy who went missing right after his mother died. Of course, one theory was that he was abducted by aliens. That was the joke theory.

Until Peter Parker and Y/N Stark proved that theory to be correct.

Being fans of the show, the duo was vaguely aware of the existence of Peter Quill, the mysterious boy who went missing. It wasn’t until Thor traveled back to Earth with the rest of the Guardians did Peter and Y/N recognize Peter Quill.

Of course, their first instinct was to interview him about how he got abducted and ask about some space stories. Their next instinct was to invite Ryan and Shane of the Unsolved Network to interview him as well.

This subsequently made the internet blow up. And Peter Parker became famous because of it.

The video titled “We Solved A Buzzfeed Unsolved Case” garnered millions of views overnight, with thousands of comments flooding the video. Peter’s Twitter went from less than a hundred followers to more than a hundred thousand overnight, and his Instagram blew up in a similar fashion.

He was used to Spider-Man being famous, but Peter Parker had never gotten that much attention before. It was surreal.

He found himself sitting on the brown leather couch at the Avengers Tower (where the Stark family alose happened to reside) the morning after the video was released, staring at his texts blow up in front of him.

Ned: Dude you’re famous?? You’re on the YT trending page!!

MJ: can i meet ryan and shane? also warning: flash and brad don’t know you’re dating y/n so their texts may be a little hostile…

Flash: Damn Parker, how do you know Y/N Stark???

Brad: Why haven’t you brought Y/N around?

Betty: Peter you HAVE to let me interview you for the school news! When are you free??

“What the hell is going on…” Peter whispers, jaw unhinged as notification after notification caused his phone to ‘ding’ out of control.

“Hey Pete,” he hears a voice flow into the living room. His girlfriend walks past him, not before pressing her lips to his cheek. His cheek warms at the contact and his eyes follow her pajama-clad body into the large kitchen.

“Did you see the video you posted?” Peter calls after her. Y/N shakes her head as she throws a banana along with other frozen fruit into the blender.

“No…why?” she calls back. “Do you want a smoothie?”

“No, but thank you,” Peter replies quickly. He turns his body to face her and raises his voice at the sound of the blender turning on, “It’s trending. Like, everywhere.”

“I figured it would,” Y/N calls back, the hum of the blender drowning her voice out.

“How are you so chill?” Peter asks her, slightly bewildered.

“There was paparazzi in the hospital waiting room when I was bored. You get used to stuff like that,” she answers, before making her way back to Peter, smoothie in hand. She positions herself on the couch, placing her legs overtop Peter’s lap.

He places his arms over her shins instinctively. “I’m definitely not used to stuff like that,” he mumbles, still scrolling through his notifications.

Y/N scoffs, “You’re Spider-Man, honey. That comes with press.”

“Spider-Man is famous, not me,” he counters.

The sound of the elevator opening and deep voices conversing cut the couple off as they turn towards the door. Tony, followed by Steve, Bucky, and Natasha file into the common floor, all deep in conversation. They don’t seem to notice the young couple, so Y/N decides to make them known.

“Morning!” Y/N calls out.

Tony’s head snaps up towards his daughter, before shifting and narrowing his eyes at Peter. “We were just talking about you,” he says, walking towards the two.

“Oh?” the younger Stark challenges.

Natasha lets out a soft laugh before patting Peter on the shoulder. “You need a public relations lesson,” she says to Peter.

“A what?”

Y/N lets out a fit of giggles. “It’s to make sure you don’t say something stupid to a large audience,” she tells him, and Peter scrunches his nose.

“Why would I need a…oh.”

Tony smirks at him before showing him his ever-rising Twitter followers. “Yeah, oh. That video you posted basically broke the internet. Even old man Steve is talking about it.”

Steve rolls his eyes but smiles sympathetically at him before handing him a grey folder. “Protecting Spider-Man’s identity is still your number one priority, right?” Steve asks and Peter nods. “So, we need to make sure you don’t say anything stupid or post something that gives away who your alias is.”

“So, what’s in the folder?” Peter asks the adults in the room.

“Homework,” Natasha answers. “I’ll help make sure that your identity stays a secret, but I need you to make sure you read that document very carefully. They’re full of general best-practices and protocol for if your identity is exposed.”

“Got it,” Peter whispers, mostly to himself.

“Great,” Tony says with a pat to his shoulder. “It was a funny video, by the way. Can’t wait to see what you kids come up with.”

Over the weekend, even though Natasha, Tony, and Y/N prepared him as best they could for the storm that would most likely ensue on Monday at school, Peter still didn’t feel prepared.

He stood in the middle of his room, gnawing at his lip and choosing between the dark blue sweater and the maroon sweater. Granted, the sweater wouldn’t make that much of a difference and hide the fact that Peter was still a big nerd, but he had a feeling he needed to make a good impression today.

“Babe, you are overthinking it,” Y/N mumbles from Peter’s bed. Like most weekends, she spent the night at Peter’s place. Although things do tend to get a little heated, most nights the couple just watch movies, play video games, or take a walk around the block.

“You’re not the one going to a public school,” Peter mumbles back. It was true; Tony had tried sending Y/N to Midtown, but the paparazzi was getting unbearable, so she took online classes instead. Y/N didn’t mind missing out on the high school experience—her life was so surreal that nothing could make her feel normal, except Peter or Morgan.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Y/N groans and rolls out of bed. She shivers at the cool breeze caused by the AC being blasted on high as she wraps Peter’s flannel around her body even tighter. “I meant that you’ll look really good in whatever you wear, honey.”

Peter rolls his eyes but turns to face his girlfriend, dark blue and maroon sweater still in hand. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” he admits.

“Afraid everyone will look at you differently?”

“Afraid everyone will think I don’t deserve someone like you…”

Y/N gives him a soft smile before closing the gap between them. She peppers kisses along his shoulder, his neck, then finally his lips. Peter ducks down to look at her, wrapping his arms underneath the flannel she’s wearing and around her waist.

“I love you, ya know that right?” she whispers into his collarbone.

Peter hums in response.

“And the world doesn’t get to decide who or what you deserve. Because you deserve a hell of a lot more than what I can give you.”

Peter groans, “Don’t say that. You give me everything I need.”

“And that’s what matters,” Y/N replies. “Not what anyone else thinks. Okay?”

Peter pulls away and gives his girlfriend a sincere smile, “Okay.”

“Good,” she muses before pressing a final kiss to Peter’s lips. She then takes the maroon sweater from his hands. “Wear the dark blue sweater, I want to wear the maroon one.”

---

Despite Y/N’s encouraging words, Peter’s still nervous.

He’s nerves kick in as soon as Y/N has to leave his place while he packs his school bag. He’s nervous on the subway on the way to school. He’s nervous as he crosses the street towards campus. He’s nervous when he’s walking toward the school entrance, so much so that he can hear his heartbeat over the podcast he’s listening to. And he’s especially nervous when people openly gawk and stare at him as he makes his way to his locker.

Luckily, MJ and Ned are there to save him.

“They’re all staring,” MJ comments as Peter yanks his locker open and reaches for his calculus textbook.

Peter laughs nervously, “I’m aware.”

“You know that clique of really hot sophomores who won’t shut up at lunch?” Ned adds on as he stares at his phone, “They’re all thirsting over you on Instagram.”

Peter slams his locker shut in surprise, “Wh-what?”

Sure enough, Ned’s phone is filled with screenshots of the video on Allison’s Instagram story with the caption ‘hmu peter ;) or i may have to fake needing a tutor to talk to you.’

Peter gags. MJ snickers.

“Oh my god, this is awful,” Peter shudders as he turns around and makes his way to first-period calculus. Ned and MJ follow suite. “Don’t they know I’m dating someone?”

“Peter, if we barely knew you were dating someone until we met her and started handing out with her,” MJ deadpans.

“Speaking of your girlfriend,” Ned butts in, “are you going to tell her about Allison?”

“No, she’d probably laugh. And it’s not a big deal, right?” Peter answer honestly, smiling slightly at the thought of Y/N laughing her ass off at the thought of sophomores at his own school acting thirsty on main.

Ned stops dead in his tracks, “What if she was actually talking to you?”

“Ned, what—”

“Hi, Peter!” a high-pitched voice attempting to sound sultry cuts him off.

MJ laughs in amusement before walking away as Peter squeaks out, “H-hi, Allison.”

Ned pats his shoulder encouragingly before walking away, giving Peter a ‘you’re on your own’ look.

She bats her eyelashes at him, giving him a shy smile. Peter’s distracted by her bright pink outfit—she looked straight out of an early-2000s movie. It suited her, but it wasn’t really Peter’s preference.

“I watched your video, it was really funny,” Allison says, inching closer to Peter.

“Thanks, um look, I gotta go—”

“You doing anything tonight?” she immediately asks.

No, Peter thinks, but he racks his brain for an excuse. May is working so he can’t use her, Tony is at the Avengers’ Compound, MJ has art class, Ned is working on a group project, maybe Y/N…

It’s too late. “Great!” Allison quips, “I’m having a party tonight and you’re invited, hottie. I’ll AirDrop you the details.”

“Uh, thanks,” he mutters pathetically as she practically skips away.

It wasn’t just Allison’s invitation that stuck out to him; it seemed like everybody more popular than Peter was giving him some sort of attention. If Peter didn’t know better, we would’ve been flattered. Instead, he was suspicious.

By lunch, Peter had been invited to three parties, a football game, a boat ride, and more invitations to hangout than he could count. Even Mr. Harrington made a jab at Peter’s internet fame.

As soon as the bell rang, Peter bolted out of his English class and ran out the front gates to take a breath. Even as Spider-Man, public events often felt overwhelming. Now, with no excuse to leave and no disguise to hide his flustered expression, the few minutes of silence he had at beginning of lunch was the only break he got all day.

“You don’t look too hot, babe,” he hears a voice say. From his spot leaning against the railing of the school entrance, he lifts his gaze and finds Y/N Stark staring up at him from the bottom of the stairs.

He stands up immediately and meets Y/N halfway down the stairs. He smiles widens as he gets close to her, “What are you doing here?”

“MJ texted me—said you were feeling overwhelmed,” she says nonchalantly, but concern laces her features. “You doing okay?”

“Just not used to so many people giving Peter Parker attention. And the feeling that they probably just want to hang out with me because they want to be famous makes me icky.”

Y/N hums and reaches for his torso to give him a hug. Peter is on the step above her, so he wraps his arms around her shoulders and rests his chin on her head. “I know how you feel,” she mumbles.

Peter laughs half-heartedly, “Got invited to a shit ton of parties, though.”

Y/N chuckles into his chest, “Oh really?”

“One of which is tonight. Got any plans?”

“Hmm…maybe,” she tells him. “Dad wants me to be his plus one to a gala thing, but I don’t really want to go.”

“You’d rather go to a shitty high school party?”

“I’d rather do anything, honestly.”

A honk from a car parked on the curb catches their attention. Peter looks up and finds Happy peering his head through the window of a black sedan. “Hate to break you two up, but I really don’t want to be swarmed by high schoolers,” Happy shouts, “so we should get going, Y/N.”

Y/N sighs, “And, that’s my cue.”

“I’ll see you tonight, maybe?” Peter asks hopefully, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

“Maybe. Text me the address, but don’t bail on the party,” Y/N tells him before giving Peter a proper kiss. Another honk from Happy causes them to break away, followed by the school doors opening and more and more people filtering outside. A series of shocked gasps at Y/N Stark and Peter Parker in such a compromising position prompt Y/N to start walking down the stairs.

“See you, Peter,” Y/N shouts as she quickly makes her way down the steps.

Peter waves to Y/N in the passenger seat as her and Happy drive away. His phone the buzzes with a text from Y/N:

Y/N 🥰: hang in there bb, love you!

“Yo, dickwad!” Peter hears Flash shout from behind him, “Why didn’t you introduce me to your Stark friend?”

Peter sighs. This was going to be a long day.

---

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I want to May…it’s just that—”

“It’s just that you want Y/N there?”

Peter sighs and shakes his head. He sits in the passenger seat of May’s car as she’s parked outside Allison’s house where the party is taking place. He’s beyond uncomfortable: the girl who was shamelessly flirting with him was sending him DMs, asking him when he was going to show up to her party. His skinny jeans—the nice ones saved for special occasions—were still a little stiff because he never really wore them, and he’s sure he’s made sweat stains on his white t-shirt.

“I guess, I just want the high school experience, to feel normal. Even if it’s a fake normal,” Peter says honestly, fiddling with his hair in the mirror. “But everything is easier with Y/N around.”

“Did she answer your texts?”

“I sent her the address and she said she would try to find an excuse to leave the gala early, but I don’t know if she’s gonna make it,” Peter says dejectedly.

May nods understandingly, “If you want to leave, just send me an SOS. I’ll come pick you up.”

“Thanks, May,” he says before pressing a kiss to her cheek. He doesn’t feel his body move, but his feet carry him out of the car and towards the front steps of the house. He doesn’t realize he’s reached for the door until he’s already inside, looking around at the darkened house illuminated by colourful lights and blaring with music.

“Peter!” he hears someone call from the top of the stairs. It’s Allison, clad in a sheer top, lacy bralette, and tight leather pants. He tries not to gawk at her, but he gulps in nervousness as she approaches.

“You made it!” she exclaims over the rumbling bass. Without warning she pulls Peter into a hug, pressing her body close to his. His muscles tense in surprise, but he feels Allison shiver.

Fucking great, Peter thinks as Allison eyes him up and down, biting her lip.

“Do you want a drink?” Allison says, latching onto his bicep and guiding him further into the house.

“Um, sure,” Peter says as he tries to remove his arm from her grasp while still remaining subtle. He fails, and Allison proceeds to run her nails up and down his arm.

Someone shoves a solo cup in Peter’s hand, and he takes a few big gulps immediately. His powers can’t get drunk, but he can sure as hell try if he has to handle Allison’s not-so-subtle advances towards him all night.

“I’m glad you came,” Allison suddenly whispers in his ear before biting his ear lobe in an attempt at seduction.

Peter whips his head around to confront her but before he can say anything, she’s left him to chat with her friends who have been watching the whole interaction in jealousy and awe. Great, Peter thinks before wiping his earlobe clean of her spit.

The party isn’t too bad; a few games of beer pong are going on the patio and people are taking turns jumping into the pool in just their underwear. Peter makes small talk with some people he recognizes, but for the most part, he leans against the wall and watches Flash pretend to be good at beer pong. Every few minutes, he checks the time on his phone and hopes for a text.

At 9:15, Peter has been at the party for forty-five minutes and is on his third drink. He still doesn’t feel buzzed.

At 9:24, Allison checks up on him again and tries to get him to strip with her and jump into the pool. He declines.

At 9:32, Flash loses his third game of beer pong in a row and a heard of angry freshmen finally scare him away from the table.

At 9:47, he hears excited commotion inside the house. He doesn’t bother to look inside and instead stares at the amber liquid in his cup.

He feels a hand fall on his shoulder, and he groans, finally fed up with Allison’s antics. “Look Allison, I think you’re sweet and all but—”

“Who’s Allison?”

Peter’s face breaks into a huge smile at the sight of Y/N Stark, still in her formal evening wear. The dark green, straight gown falls to the floor and the simple dress is bedazzled by nothing except the gold necklace Peter got her for her birthday and the million-dollar Stark smile.

“You made it,” he says in relief and excitement.

Y/N smirks back, “I’m overdressed.”

“You look beautiful.”

Y/N examines Peter’s outfit, “You look good too. This shirt makes your arms look huge.”

Peter blushes but takes a hold of her hands, only half-aware that half of the party is probably staring at them right now. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

Y/N laughs, “We were stuck in traffic. Dad wanted to get out of there too, it was pretty boring. We had to drop him off at home, first.”

“You left a boring party to come to another boring party, then. The difference is that you don’t get free dinner over here.”

Her laugh draws more attention to the duo and Peter finally finds the balls to look at the decent-sized crowd accumulating around them. He then notices a familiar face push through the people.

“Oh my god, you’re Y/N Stark!” Allison gushes as she approaches her, “Can I get a picture with you?”

Y/N smiles at her, “Um, sure?”

Allison squeals and shoves her phone into someone’s face, demanding them to take her picture. After a few photos are taken, Allison grabs her arms giddily and says, “You should totally follow me on Insta, these pics turned out really cute.”

Y/N looks amusedly at her, “Yeah, for sure…”

Allison then gasps, “You know Peter, too! We go to school together.” Allison then wraps her arms around Peter’s bicep and Y/N and Peter lock eye contact; Peter looks at Y/N in a state of panic and Y/N looks at Peter with nothing but amusement.

“Yeah, I figured,” she tells her, the amused expression growing.

Allison gasps again, “Peter! We should get a picture together too!”

Before he can really process it, Allison is pulling Peter close and shoving her phone in front of their faces. As Allison makes several different selfie faces, Y/N laughs softly as Peter smiles awkwardly at the camera. Suddenly, the feeling of lip-glossed lips touches his cheek and Peter raises his eyebrows in surprise and watches as Allison presses a kiss to his cheek in front of his girlfriend and what seemed like half the party. Her kisses trail down his neck, jaw, and ear before Peter finally gets over his initial shock and laughs awkwardly.

“Okay, um. That was kinda weird, Allison. You see, I’m ac—”

Allison juts her lip out and pouts, “But these were turning out so cute, Petey!”

Y/N Stark finally breaks out into a fit of hysterical laughter and both Peter and Allison turn to her with a bewildered expression.

“What?” Allison asks accusingly, thinking that she’s being mocked.

“Honey, he’s not interested.”

Allison’s jaw unhinges, “And how would you know?”

“Sweetheart, you’d be embarrassed if I told you.”

She scoffs. “Try me.”

“I’m dating Peter.”

Allison’s eyes bulge. The group of people watching the interaction gasp. Peter chokes on his own spit.

Allison’s face suddenly gets very, very red. “Miss Stark, I’m so, so sorry—"

Y/N holds out a hand to stop her rambling. “Don’t worry about it, love. If I wasn’t already dating him, I would be all over him, too,” she quips before grabbing Peter’s hand and leading him out of the party.

“E-erm, bye! Thanks for inviting me,” Peter calls back as Y/N leads him out of the house and towards the black sedan where the driver was waiting for the two to be done partying.

“All things considered, I would call that a pretty tame first fan interaction,” Y/N tells him as they walk towards the car. Her arm is wrapped around his torso as she leans her cheek on Peter’s shoulder. 

Peter’s arm slings around her shoulders and looks down at her face. Her eyes twinkle in the moonlight and her features are light with amusement. “You’re not mad?” he asks her.

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because another girl was kissing me in front of you. And that you had to out our relationship.”

“Not a valid reason to be mad, to be honest. She didn’t know, and our relationship was bound to get out anyway.”

Peter laughs lightly, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Y/N hums, “Yeah, I know. But so are you. And don’t worry, after a few weeks, the whole school will be a little chiller about your internet fame.”

A week later, Y/N and Peter uploaded a video where they went ghost hunting with Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes and it broke the internet yet again. Needless to say, the whole school was not very chill about it.

[tonystarktogo]

In celebration of my birthday *yay, I’m getting old*, here’s the second part of An Unwise Murder (An Inconvenient Survival). It’s only half of the chapter, but once I’ve finished it (which will hopefully be tonight although no promises cause I’m spending a lot of time with my family today) I’ll post the full version on AO3 as well.

*

Part II

Tony pours himself a glass of lukewarm coca cola on autopilot. It tastes disgusting, but that doesn’t stop him from swallowing it all down in one go. He should probably put the glass down afterwards, except that’s easier said than done when his hands clutch the fragile cup so hard, his fingers ache. Still better than watching them shake and tremble though.

Maybe it’s a remnant of being raised as the heir of the leading company in one of the most cutthroat industries. Maybe it’s just a byproduct of being the son of Maria Carbonell. Either way, Tony has learned the value of good pokerface early in life. It’s going to take more than some stranger appearing out of nowhere with ominous declarations to shake his composure. Particularly considering Mystery Guy has the guts to introduce himself as James. 

James. Of all the fake names he could have picked, seriously. The least he could’ve done is put a bit of effort into the pretense. Tony wants to snort, make a stupid James Bond quip, except—

Steve is dead.

Tony doesn’t know what to do with that information. His mind is racing into five different directions at breakneck speed and simultaneously shies away from the terrible, inevitable conclusion that rests at the center of it all. The implications of what Wannabe-Bond [who, by the way, is glowering suspiciously at Tony from where he’s leaning against the wall on the other side of the kitchen, the best vantage point to keep an eye on all windows and the door, and is apparently incapable of understanding why Tony might need a goddamn minute] has oh so casually announced — and, more tellingly, what he hasn’t said — are staggering. 

"Want some?" Tony gestures jerkily towards the open bottle of coca cola. Never let it be said that his mother didn’t drill some basic manners into him, whether the situation calls for it or not.

00-Copy-Cat shakes his head, which suits Tony just fine. He’s not in the mood to share.

Officially, Tony barely knows Steve Rogers. [And fuck, it’s knew now, isn’t it, no, no, don’t think about it—] They ran into each other twice, once accidentally, once on purpose. Both times they spent more time arguing than agreeing on things. Both times left Tony feeling raw and tired, a little bit like he’d just barely escaped a violent death.

Officially. Such a nice, convenient, little word, isn’t it? The grounds you can cover with that kind of safety blanket are truly astonishing. 

Tony takes a sip from his drink, is reminded that the glass is already empty, and promptly grabs the whole bottle instead. Lukewarm cola is disgusting, but it’s still sugar and caffeine — the magical combination, in this case. Tony has no illusions about his odd visitor: He’s going to need all the energy he can get if he wants to make it through the next forty-eight hours intact. That he’s got what is quite possibly a real-life assassin watching over his shoulder, screaming murderous aggression from his every pore, is doing wonders for Tony’s ability to stay calm and focused.

Not.

Anyone asks about me, don’t trust them. Anyone searches for me, lie. Don’t say anything, don’t admit anything, don’t imply anything. If they don’t think you useless, they’ll convince themselves you’re a threat. Do you understand? Steve’s voice whispers into his ear, low and serious and so irritatingly commanding that Tony wants to turn around and punch him in his stupid, white teeth.

But since he’s currently in the company of a more volatile version of Steve — something Tony didn’t know was possible — who looks like he might eat aspiring serial killers for breakfast, that’s probably not his best idea.

“Alright,” Tony says eventually, mostly to himself. “Steve’s dead. Shit happens.” Move on and adapt, is what is father used to tell him. These circumstances probably aren’t what the old man had in mind, but Tony has underestimated Howard before. The man has his fingers in a lot of pies, some of which the general public doesn’t even know the existence of. If Tony was three years younger and two times more paranoid, he’d suspect this to be another attempt by dear old dad to show him "the error of his way". Although not even Howard Stark would kill off Steve Rogers just to prove a point.

Probably.

Tony turns around and looks Wannabe-Bond straight in the eyes. [He’s lied to Maria Stark’s face, okay. This is nothing.] They’re a very pretty shade of blue, there’s no denying that. That doesn’t change the fact that it would really suck if those eyes were the last thing Tony ever sees though. He’s too young to die. He’s got things to do, people to annoy. Not to mention Pepper would murder him if he got himself killed before the whole mess with his inheritance is sorted out.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here." As far as questions go, it’s an implied, roundabout way of asking. The kind that raises Tony’s hackles — as well as the spiteful child inside him — and makes him snipe back viciously in response. Despite that Tony can’t bring himself to ask the far more direct 'Why are you here?' out loud.

It helps that he really, really doesn’t want to know.

Wannabe-Bond stares at Tony with a blank expression that gives nothing away. It’s creepy as fuck, Tony’s not gonna lie. Like staring at a lifelike puppet and half-expecting it to start moving any moment now, even though you know damn well it shouldn’t. 

Double-0-Leather takes a measured step towards him. Then another. “How much do you know about Steve?” he asks in that gravely voice that makes Tony want to lecture him on the dangers of smoking. Totally not helpful right now, but it’s always good to know that, despite all evidence to the contrary, Tony has been listening to Pepper’s lectures. 

Not that he actually lectures Mister Tall, Dark and Murderous. Tony has some sense of self-preservation, thank you very much.

“I know seven different Steves. You’re gonna have to be more specific."

Alright, maybe not that much. In all fairness though, everyone who knows Tony knows he doesn't handle fear well. He just doesn’t. His fight or flight response is broken beyond repair — or so Rhodey likes to mutter under his breath when he pretends to be the reasonable adult he definitely isn’t and Tony has done something Improbably Stupid™ again — and it’s moments like these when it shows.

To his surprise, Wannabe-Bond snorts. It might have been a trick of light, but Tony could’ve sworn he sees the beginnings of a grin there for a second. Huh. Are assassins allowed to have a sense of humor?

“Fun as this might be-” Wannabe-Bond takes a hold of both of Tony’s shoulders, looming straight into his face now, and, nope, Tony doesn’t like that at all, he’s fond of his personal space, okay, this totally isn’t cool because he’s made Steve a promise and Tony keeps his damn promises — no matter what stupid, self-righteous Steve might think — and Tony really isn’t sure how well he’s going to hold up under torture, that is so not his specialty.

“Are you even listening?” the Man in Black snaps suddenly, in the middle of what is undoubtedly a lengthy, well-delivered threat. It’s the impatience in his tone more than the words themselves that jerk Tony out of his internal rambling.

“Not really?” he blurts out, then immediately regrets it when Double-0-Lame-o’s expression darkens even more.

“Listen carefully!” the guy grinds out between his teeth with the barely restrained violence of a panther on the prowl. "I don’t have the time or patience to play nice right now. This isn’t the time for games. Because I’m not Steve and no one’s gonna look twice if some mouthy civvie disappears." Tony does not shrink into himself — he’s been trained better than that, and it’s not true anyways, Pepper and Rhodey would raise hell in the wake of his disappearance— but, damn it, he really, really wants to. 

“We’re compromised," Agent McGrizzly continues with glacial calm. "Someone from the inside betrayed Steve. And you’re going to find the rat. I don’t care how, you’re gonna get it done or I’m gonna use you as a demonstration for what will happen to them when I catch them, got it?”

Tony swallows. Wannabe-Bond hasn’t raised his voice even once. Has spoken barely louder than a heated whisper. Somehow that makes him all the more terrifying.

“And how exactly—” Tony croaks, immediately clears his throat and continues without pause, "How exactly am I supposed to do that?"

Because even when he ignores every command Steve has given him — and there’s a certain delight in that knowledge, not gonna lie — even if he believes this stranger with a handsome face and murder instead of tears in his eyes, even if he wanted to — which he doesn’t because Tony Stark doesn’t help people out of the goodness of his cold, black heart — that still leaves him with a grieving madman sprouting conspiracy theories and nothing else to go on.

Tony expects many things in response to his very legitimate question. The USB stick Suit-Without-The-Suit throws at his face isn’t among them. Luckily, he’s got fast reflexes. Evading DUM-E’s claws whenever he’s trying to help because he’s fallen in love with yet another car is one hell of a training exercise.

The stick is unremarkable in all the ways that matter. A black, plastic casing. Nothing to see there, it screams at anyone who might care to listen. Tony stares at the small, outdated piece of technology in the palm of his hand for a long moment. Then, slowly, like a cat stretching before its next nap, he smiles.

"You should’ve led with that."

Sleep is for the weak anyways.

(tbc)

[cami-chats]

One For You Too

Title: One For You Too

Link: AO3

Square Filled: Free Square

Ship: background Tony/Rhodey

Rating: Mature

Major Tags: None

Summary: “Tony gives the okay for someone to make prototypes of Avengers themed sex toys, but he forgot to warn the team. They're more than a little surprised when they're opening the mail and see that.”

Word Count: 1447

Created for @mcukinkbingo

Full text also below 

The thing was, all of the Avengers knew that Tony was shameless when it came to sex-- even if he was a little more reserved these days because of his relationship with Rhodey. Whether he was that way because he was Tony, or if it was a byproduct of the leaked sex tapes, drugged out orgies, having sex so young in such a public way, or a combination of all three, it meant that when someone approached him about the idea of licensed sex toys in the style of all the Avengers, he gave them the go-ahead without much thought. So little thought, in fact, that he forgot to mention it to any of the Avengers until the prototypes were done and had been sent over.

Like advertised on the site itself, the products were sent in the classic plain brown box that didn't give even a hint about what its contents were. It was reasonable then, that when they saw a package marked for the Avengers in their mail, they opened it up without hesitating.

After they could see what was inside though, they hesitated a lot. Tony, of course, was late to breakfast that day and walked in only to have everyone turn to stare at him, some of them a little more hostile than others. "Did I do something to deserve this or did you all decide to hate me today?" He glanced around, noticing that Bruce seemed more embarrassed than anything else, so it surely wasn't as bad as Bucky's glare was making this out to be.

Bucky grabbed the card that had been sent along and read out, "'Mister Stark, thank you for considering the Avengers Toy Set. Please let us know if you have any suggestions or improvements to make the buyer of the product feel more like they are truly with an Avenger. This set is of course for your personal use and you can contact us whenever you have the time.'" Bucky flicked the card at him, obviously not aiming for anything painful since it hit his arm.

"Tony," Steve said, rubbing at his temple, "I thought we agreed that you weren't allowed to make decisions about the entire team without asking first."

"And I didn't." He poured himself a cup of coffee, frowning when it only filled up half of his cup. He set about making another pot as he talked. "They asked if they could try, I said sure. These aren't on the market yet, they just want to see if we'll agree to them. Besides, don't you want to know what they decided for you?"

"No," Bucky said vehemently, but Tony rolled his eyes at him.

"Relax Bucky-bear, you don't have to use any of them if you don't want to."

"Really?" Tony wanted to tease him for being so disbelieving, but all things considered with his past, that would be insensitive, and not the kind that Tony could just brush aside.

"Course not. This is more to simulate what the public thinks you'd be like in bed and marketing that. Personally I hope they made mine some sort of vibrator. Is it?"

"We haven't looked yet," Natasha said, peering inside the box. When no one beside Clint made a move to look, she pulled it towards them.

"First up is a vibrating wand!" Clint said like he was an announcer. "Given the coloring, we can assume it is for our good ol' Captain. Congratulations, Steve."

Natasha set it on the table, where everyone could see it. Tony thought it was a little unimaginative to have red and white stripes leading up to the fat end which had the blue background with white stars, but he also didn't have a better idea (yet). She raised an eyebrow, then lifted out a set of handcuffs that had a silver chain connecting them to a second set, obviously to go around ankles. The cuffs were leather which was normal enough, but they were adorned with bright red stars, which made them Bucky's.

"No," Bucky said immediately, shaking his head.

"Aw c'mon Barnes," Clint said, jangling them a little as if that would help.

"I hate to say it," Natasha said, "but what did you expect when your outfit has that much leather? At least they didn't do an entire fetish outfit."

"They have those, they just aren't officially the Winter Soldier," Tony chimed in. Bucky glared at him, and Tony just shrugged. "It's true."

Natasha sighed at the next item she pulled out. "I guess these are mine. We match." Bucky did not look heartened in the slightest, but that would have been a strange reaction to have to nipple clamps, not matter how much it would make sense in the moment. Clint leaned over and whispered something in Natasha's ear that made her laugh. "We'll see what you say about yours when it comes up."

It was Tony's next, obvious by the red and gold color. It was just a rabbit vibrator, but he appreciated that it was one of the thrusting ones. After that was a giant purple dildo, and Tony had to press his lips together to keep from laughing.

Clint's face brightened. "They think I'm hung! I approve of this," he said to Tony.

"I don't think that's yours Robin Hood."

"What do you mean? It's purple, that's my color."

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Bruce cover his face as he realized that it was actually the Hulk's toy. "Well, let's think about this. Out of everyone on the team, he do you think the public would assume has a giant cock?"

"...Steve?" he guessed.

Natasha covered her mouth for a second, before composing herself. "Dear? I think it's Hulk."

Clint turned to look at Bruce, who hadn't moved. "The Hulk? Wouldn't his dick be green?"

"His nipples are purple." Now everyone turned to look at Tony. "What?" he said defensively, holding his coffee cup like it was a shield. "That's how it works." They all continued to stare at him for a minute, except Bruce, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here with them.

"So if this is the Hulk," Natasha said, setting the ridiculously massive-- her fingers couldn't even get all the way around it-- dildo to the side, "then this one must be you." Natasha pulled out the anal beads with a wide grin, which was not something Tony ever thought would be something he'd see. "See? Still purple."

"This is more my shade of purple," Clint allowed, taking the toy from Natasha and examining it.

There was a moment of quiet as they all looked at the display of sex toys on their kitchen table-- yes, even Bruce, although he was peeking through his fingers rather than staring outright like the rest of them. "I'll tell them to go ahead with mine," Tony said, pouring himself another cup of coffee now that it was done. "Anyone not want theirs?"

Bucky raised his hand, but the rest of the team didn't move.

Tony nodded. "Alright, I'll tell them it's a no-go for the Winter Soldier. They'll probably re-brand these to be Black Widow, just fyi."

"Fine with me," Natasha said with a shrug.

Tony made a mental note to get back to the company, along with asking if they could come up with another couple ideas for Steve's because really, that was just pathetic. "Any other suggestions? Complaints? Questions?"

Bucky glared at him again, but Tony knew that he didn't mean anything by it.

He made to walk out of the room, but Natasha talking stopped him. "Hey Tony?"

"Hm?"

"They made one for War Machine," she said, smirking and holding the box out to him.

Tony walked over and glanced inside the box, then grinned. He took the box from her and left before anyone could stop him again. He got out his phone and texted Rhodey. You'll never guess what I have.

He didn't get an answer because Rhodey was either asleep or working, but then, he hadn't expected one. He took a picture and sent it, along with a peach emoji. Tony was getting a little aroused just thinking about it, but he didn't actually plan on using it for a while. He went down the 'shop and set it somewhere out of DUM-E's way, and generally forgot about it for a while until Rhodey texted him back. He was so caught up in his work that it was a shock when the text he got back was absolutely filthy.

He got to his feet, retrieved the box and started for the elevator, calling out to Jarvis to save everything.

[drag-family-trees]

WreckRoom Idol Meet the Performers (3 of 3)

Here is the final segment of WreckRoom Idol’s Meet the Performers interviews! Reblog and tag your early favs!

Tape, 23

What attracts you to drag? How and why did you start doing drag?:

  What attracts me to drag is the performative aspect to it, as well as the ability to create a character that connects with an audience on a deeper level than I could if I was performing as just myself. I love how I can eliminate my name and bring to life something people can relate to and see themselves in. Which is why I manifested “Tape.” Tape started off as a scholarship video I did my sophomore year of college where I wrapped my head in tape and stuck plants on the sticky side to represent the growth of natural talent. It’s on YouTube under “Growth of an Artist” if you wanna look it up. It’s baby Tape. From there I was asked to write a show based off that to be performed in Scotland at the Edinburg FRINGE Festival. So I wrote a show relating Frankenstein to pop stars and how they create egos, their monsters, that end up resulting in their deconstruction. We incorporated drag in the show. When we got back I wanted continue the drag element of Tape so I jumped into performing at The Boom. Now here we are. It’s also a way for me to feel like a pop star since I can’t sing. I mean, I COULD, but you don’t wanna hear that. Trust me.

Describe your drag persona. Who and what influences your art?: Tape is a mixture of a lot of things. Three adjective I could use to explain Tape would be; metal, grunge, chic. I’m really inspired by heavy metal and rock music. Rob Zombie and Rammstein. I also draw influence from Gaga (who doesn’t), Bjork, and Enigma. My ultimate goal when I perform is to make people think I just stepped out of a Tarantino or Rob Zombie film.

How has drag impacted your life?:

 Drag has impacted my like in both positive and negative ways. One of the few things that actually makes me happy is performing. And doing drag has given me something to look forward to everyday. I get to meet all kinds of people and inspire the fans that I have and make them feel good as well. I find it so weird when I get recognized now in the “Gayborhood,” but it’s still amazing that people do. I won’t go into details on the negatives. There aren’t a lot, but I’d like to stick to thinking of the positive.

Why did you decide to compete in WreckRoom Idol?:

 I’m competing in Idol to improve. I wanna learn more. I need to be pushed to explore my creativity and believe a competition will do just that. I also want to prove to people in my life that this is more than just a hobby, it’s an artwork that truly brings me happiness. I’m good at it and want to make something of it.

 Can you give me a glimpse at what people can expect from you in this competition?:

You can expect a lot of performance art elements. I’m planning on incorporating little nods towards performance artists that I look up to. Mille Brown, Oliver de Sanganza, Marina Abromovic . I don’t want to give away to much though. I will say I’ve been asked about my silly string crotch a lot, and I will say that will be making a “comeback” (oh my god! I didn’t plan that pun.)

 Do you have a favorite WreckRoom Idol? If so, who and why?:

I really didn’t know much about idol.  I would probably have to say Miranda Wrights. She’s basically my drag mom. I started out on my own,but she helped me learn so much more. I mean, I AM blessed with her hip pads.  I also adore Jak Kay. She was my first drag queen back in senior year of high school. I sent her a message once telling her how inspirational she was. She probably won’t remember tho.

Quick catchphrase, GO!:

“Truly, 100%, without a doubt, relevant.“

Entity (Miss Tiddie if you're nasty),  24, high mileage but new tires and wiper fluid, runs okay, $32.50 OBO What attracts you to drag? How and why did you start doing drag?:

I grew up around queens, specifically those invested in the pageant circuit. My older sister was a dresser and occasional judge for many of the folks we would consider local icons today. I remember seeing signed posters from drag performers around the house when I was 8 or so and being completely enamored, but I also remember thinking it wasn't for me. It wasn't until Drag Race aired and I saw queens like TaMMie Brown and Raja that I realized the full breadth of the community. The rest is tragedy. Describe your drag persona. Who and what influences your art?:

Entity isn't so much a persona as she is a more vibrant version of my daytime self. She's like if Nina Hagen and Bill Hader fucked and dolled the byproduct up in real life neuroses, insecurities, and quirks. How has drag impacted your life?:

Drag gives a person permission to look their faults and virtues in the eye. It's hard to be intimidated by something that chooses to stick cosmetic grade pipe cleaners on its lashes; it's harder yet to ignore it. I know myself better than I ever have before, and I know my friends better too. It's funny how something predicated on fantasy can illuminate what's real. Why did you decide to compete in WreckRoom Idol?:

I'm almost out of pickling jars and the wrinkles are coming back; I heard harvesting the life force of the youth at large would do in a pinch. Also, like, the cultural importance of preserving queer spaces and a good old fashioned validation complex, but I'll save that for the tell-all memoir.

Can you give me a glimpse at what people can expect from you in this competition?: Dirty lace fronts, absurd song choices, and a can-do attitude. Also probably a cyst or two, who's to say? Do you have a favorite WreckRoom Idol? If so, who and why?:

Alotta, because she doesn't have much time left. The Make-A-Wish Foundation does really good work, I suggest everyone donate. Quick catchphrase, GO!:

Sometimes she's Entity, most times she's just entitled.

Jessi Alexander, 19 years old.

 What attracts you to drag? How and why did you start doing drag?:

 People get to live out who they see themselves as in drag, you get to be the real you but also a completely different person. I started doing drag because I saw it as my chance to escape. I work a boring job, I was a nerd in high school but while I'm performing I feel like a famous celebrity and it's the only time I feel like that.

Describe your drag persona. Who and what influences your art?:  

My persona is the bad boy who lived next door to you your whole life but your parents never let you hang out with him. Messy hair, tattoos, rock music and very sexual. Classic movies influenced my persona. Grease, pretty in pink, rock n roll high school, the breakfast club, etc. I'd see the bad boy character and want to be them. Leather jacket, ripped jeans, dead behind the eyes but can party.

How has drag impacted your life?:

  It gave me something to live for. Before I'd go to work then go home, I was in a rut. I'd hang out with friends but only if my depression wasn't too bad and I could actually feel motivated enough to get out of the house. Drag motivates me, it makes me happy, it makes me want to get out there. It's led me to people that I love and call family. It's given me that opportunity to express how I feel inside and when I go out there and hear people cheer for me it gives me life.

 Why did you decide to compete in WreckRoom Idol?:

I've never done something like this before and I think it'll be really fun. I'm excited to compete!

Can you give me a glimpse at what people can expect from you in this competition?:

 Surprises. I am definitely bringing some new style out and trying to do things I wouldn't normally do.

Do you have a favorite WreckRoom Idol? If so, who and why?:

I love everybody

Quick catchphrase, GO!:

 YOU GOTTA RISK IT FOR THE BISCUIT!

[fromtheringapron]

Ranking the Songs on Piledriver: The Wrestling Album II

I had so much fun last year ranking the songs on WWE Originals that I’ve decided to travel back time over 30 years ago to ranks the songs on Piledriver: The Wrestling Album II. The first Wrestling Album was one of Vince McMahon’s many attempts in the mid ‘80s to present the WWF as a circus the whole family could love. They had a Saturday morning cartoon so why not take things one step further with an album featuring the WWF superstars themselves? In many ways, it was also the natural result of their relationship with MTV. Amazingly though, requisite player Cyndi Lauper didn’t partake. Instead, it was a pretty mixed bag of some of the most iconic entrance themes of the era and songs that were quickly forgotten, probably rightly so.

The second Wrestling Album follows that same formula. However, if its predecessor felt like a one-note gimmick, the sequel feels much more in touch with the pop sensibilities of the day. In addition to featuring more songs that would go on to serve as the entrance themes for several of the superstars here, there are a couple of tracks that could’ve blended right in with ‘80s Top 40. Even if their partnership with MTV was over by the time of the sequel’s release, 8 of the 10 tracks here got music videos, all released on a hot Coliseum Video release. Yes, there are some duds. Oh, boy, are there duds! No music production where Vince McMahon is involved would be complete without them. And you bet I’m gonna cover and rank all of them. As always, songs are linked in each entry so without further ado, let’s get to it:

1 (best). “Demolition” by Rick Derringer: A head-banger’s ball of loud noise and Hell roaming the earth⏤that’s literally the best way to describe this and I don’t even think it makes a whole lot of sense. This isn’t just the best song on the album; this is one of the best entrance themes in history. It can’t be stated enough how much this raised the bar on what a wrestler’s theme song could be. It manages to perfectly capture the essence of Demolition, the tag team, whilst sounding like an actual demolition. It sounds like burning buildings and brick walls getting bulldozed over, demon spawn crawling out from under the heaps of rubble. You can hear the Motley Crues of the world shake in fear somewhere in the distance. The thing is, Derringer already had enough of an accomplished music career at the time that he didn’t need to partake in such a gimmicky album, let alone give the performance of a lifetime. He didn’t need to go to this hard but he totally did. What an act of generosity. Bless him.

2. “Jive Soul Bro” by Slick: There’s no doubt the Slick character was largely birthed out of Vince McMahon’s racism. There’s also no doubt this song is a byproduct of that. Even its title should tell you how well Vince understands black culture. So with all that going against it, it’s practically a miracle the performer and producers have created something this stellar. This is an endlessly listenable piece of old-school hip hop, featuring some dope ass Santana guitar. There are so many ways it could’ve gone wrong but if it were to take its cues from anything, I’m happy it’s “The Message” by Grandmaster Flash. The sound is, well, pretty slick and could sound fresh on a dozen songs. Slick may have be presented as a stereotype, but he brings a ton of personality to this track. I personally love the inclusion of the female vocals. “NO WAY YOU JIVE LITTLE MOUSE” is certainly a highlight. It feels like I’m just listing off the good things about it, but I’d like to think they all tie together to make the song fantastic. It could’ve been a one-note production; it opts to revel in the potential of a three-dimensional world where Slick is the central character.

3. “Piledriver” by Koko B. Ware: Okay, so this actually slaps. Koko is the one member of the WWF roster who could’ve made a little career in music out for himself. He’s got so much charisma in his voice that it’s kinda remarkable it didn’t take him anywhere outside of this album. He almost makes me forget about the Sesame Street-level lyrics to this which include but not limited to “First you think you’re so strong/ but something goes wrong/it feels like a big bad mistake.” Love is said to be like a piledriver, as I guess they needed to tie it all back into wrestling somehow. Luckily, Koko’s voice isn’t the only distraction we have from the lyrics. The production is unexpectedly badass. It has absolutely no right to go as hard as it does. They could’ve turned it into a schmaltzy ballad but, god bless us all, they chose to dress it up in a leather jacket and torn jeans. Maybe love does feel like a pile driver. I don’t know; I’m not an expert. But if this song is any indication, it does at least sound good hitting the mat.

4. “Honky Tonk Man” by The Honky Tonk Man: Come on, you can’t just have The Honky Tonk Man not have a song on the album. That would’ve been remembered as one of the biggest blown opportunities in the history of recorded music, I’m sure. Anyway, this is everything it should be. Matches the gimmick perfectly. It’s catchy but never lets us forget that HTM himself is a total dweeb. Then opening guitar is now the stuff infamy. When it played in the arena, the fans knew a real asshole was about to walk his way down to the ring. I’ve never been a huge fan of throwback music because it often comes off as tacky and totally misses the point of what its bygone era of music so great. There was a troubling time in American history where we allowed The Cherry Poppin’ Daddies to make a career out of that sort of thing. But since the whole point here is to be as tacky as possible, I’m totally okay with it. It’s audio proof that a bad Elvis impersonation can really work.

5. “Girls in Cars” by Robbie Dupree & Strike Force: This is the biggest slice of ‘80s cheese on the album, which is appropriate because Strike Force is one of the definitive squeaky clean babyface tag teams of the era. I’ve always found the presentation of Strike Force kinda weird. Tito Santana and Rick Martel as teen idols? When they’re clearly two thirtysomething dudes with spouses and children? What? Why? Sonically, this is no different than a billion other pop rock songs of the era. It’s kinda catchy, kinda sounds like Uncle Jesse from Full House getting his big break. Dupree actually boasts some impressive credentials, with a Grammy nom for Best New Artist under his belt. He also had a top 10 hit in “Steal Away” which I’m sure you can hear playing at a CVS near you. Sadly, none of this can distract me from the fact that it’s still a song for two married dudes who are going too hard to reenact their best high school days which makes the overall effect really, really awkward.

6. “Waking Up Alone” by Hillbilly Jim & Gertrude: If there were ever a more unexpected song, I’d like to here it. When I first listened to it, I thought I’d actually made a mistake. Did I accidentally listen to the wrong song? Of course I didn’t but, man, this is so frickin’ bizarre. Hillbilly’s “Don’t Go Messin’ With a Country Boy” from the first Wrestling Album is kind of a bop but if you came into this album expecting more of the same, you’d be dead wrong. In fact, a standard ‘80s adult contemporary ballad is one of the last things you’d expect. Perhaps even more of a shock is that this is actually, um, not bad?!? I can’t hate on an 80’s ballad that knows its way around synths and percussion. Hillbilly’s voice is largely what you’d expect, though not super terrible or anything. Gertrude is the real standout here. I’ll probably never know her real identity, but she’s such a welcome presence on an album filled with muscled dudes trying to be singers. How did this poor woman get roped into this project again?

7. “Crank It Up” by Jimmy Hart: Literally every wrestler in the ‘80s and ‘90s used this as their entrance theme at some point.  Yes, literally every wrestler. I’m convinced of it. Recent WWE Network discoveries show even The Rock used it in a pre-debut dark match. Its status as a relatively evergreen piece of music isn’t all that surprising though. It’s generic heavy metal that can fit a wide range of gimmicks. Unfortunately, this isn’t anywhere near as catchy as it thinks. Jimmy Hart obviously has the chops to make a recordable song, but the trade off here is one that’s blandly competent at best. It tries to answer the question: is Jimmy Hart a rock ’n’ roll badass? And the answer is, no, he’s not. It’s really jarring to hear him talk about picking up chicks in his car or some shit. I can’t buy Jimmy as anything other than an annoying little mouse. I mean, that’s what the WWF wanted us to believe, right? This would be fine if it were parody, except I don’t think this is meant to be.

8. “If You Only Knew” by WWF Superstars: This sounds cute, in theory. Your favorite WWF superstars coming together to do some Band Aid collaboration should be at least get on through the absurdity alone. But in practice? Meh. Everyone sounds like they’re not even in the same studio with each other. That shouldn’t be surprising, but at least try to work me, y’know? There also aren’t any hilarious lines I’d usually expect with something like this. Just sounds like everyone is half-asking their part (except for Koko who, even in this bit role, seems to be stretching his vocals to their limit).It’s not even all that catchy, really. Astonishingly, this includes the only appearance of Hulk Hogan on this album. You’d think he would’ve had his own song here considering, y’know, he’s on the fucking cover. How dare they ignore the would-be bassist of Metallica like that? Oh well. At least we have the amazing Slammys performance to make up for all of this.

9. “Stand Back” by Vince McMahon: Dear god, where do I begin? Even if you’re not familiar with ‘80s wrestling, you may still recognize this one anyway, given its usage in the DX/McMahons feud of 2006. Its meme status aside, this is pure cringe. Maybe this is Vince’s way of waving his finger at the Jim Crocketts and Verne Gagnes of the world who doubted his clown shoes of a wrestling company. I honestly wouldn’t doubt he’d be that petty and ridiculous. Come on, who else could he be telling to stand back? It’s always fun to look for glimpses of the evil Mr. McMahon character he’d become, and it’s right here when he uses the the throaty “You’re firrrrreeedddd!” voice. Except he tries using it as a singing voice and the results are hilariously awful. I’m not sure who convinced him to do this, but I think it’s telling how it was brought up all those years later as a way to embarrass him. 

10 (worst). “Rock & Roll Hoochie Koo” by Gene Okerlund & Rick Derringer: To be fair, this isn’t the disaster I was dreading. I fully expected Mean Gene doing some excruciating throwback shit, but this is thankfully just him getting up on the stage on karaoke night after too many drinks. That doesn’t mean it’s good, because it definitely isn’t. While there are plenty of other songs here that can easily stand on their own two legs, this is one that totally feels like a novelty. After all, this is merely a cover version of Derringer’s lone solo hit from the ‘70s, so it feels kinda lazy. Did we really need Mean Gene’s take on it? Like, his take on the Star Spangled Banner at the first WrestleMania is more inspired than this. The production makes Mean Gene’s voice disappear under various guitar screeches, which is probably a wise decision. If I had my druthers, however, this entire song could disappear off the album altogether and I wouldn’t even care.

So there you go. Agree or disagree with this ranking? Am I just spouting nonsense? Will we ever see The Wrestling Album III? Is love really like a piledriver? While you’re pondering these questions, give this album another spin and, of course, don’t forget to crank it up.

[redprincessfics]

Gift

“If you want to go to a place like that, just let me know, okay?”

Yona’s own words bounced around in her head, mocking her. Back at Awa, Hak had wanted nothing to do with them. He’d sworn up and down that he had no intention of messing with girls, and after meeting Jaeha, she knew he hadn’t been lying. So when she had caught him sneaking off the perimeters of their camp after dinner, a bulging pouch of rin in hand, the last place she figured he would be heading to was the red light district. But he was, and he flatly admitted it to her--completely unabashedly.

“I was heading out to Sensui’s Red Light district for the night.”

The words felt like he’d simultaneously dumped a bucket of ice water over her head, and ripped the ground from under her feet. Hak… was going to play with a girl? A beautiful one? One who met his every probable standard?

Yona had calmly sent him on his way, even as endless scenarios ripped through her mind a million miles a second, each one worse than the last.

Hak... meeting some pretty girl with hair that isn’t so red or so unruly, who’s never put his life on the line, who’s never bossed him around or worried him sick. That girl, falling for his smile, twining her fingers with his, holding his face, kissing his lips… spending her nights with him. Would she have to come to their union? Sit with the rest of the wedding guests and watch him exchange vows with some other woman? Would she--

“Shut up.” She hissed to herself. He’s going out for a single night of enjoyment, stop acting like he’s already left you forever.

… but he would someday, wouldn’t he? He’ll find someone who’s curvy and tall, whose humour is just as dry and teasing as his, who could actually compete with him in a fight--a cool, tough beauty that matched him perfectly. And suddenly, he would want out. He’d ask to leave the group so that he could go live happily with his love, and of course she’d let him, because he deserves so much more than just his freedom.

Yona silenced the cynical voice in her head and rolled onto her side, drawing her knees up to her chest. After catching Hak, she had retired to her tent for the night to mope, knowing she’d worry her family  if she spent the evening with them. She could see the faint flicker of their campfire through the thin slit in her tent flaps, hear each of their voices carry on hushed conversations she couldn’t quite make out.

All but one… That stupid, intrusive voice mocked in her head.

Why was she was being so silly and selfish? She didn’t own Hak, and she didn’t want to. He had his own life, his own feelings, his own desires… none of it was any of her business nor was it something she could or should control. If he wanted to mess around with girls, that was his right. A right even she’d defended, once upon a time. She knew it, she knew all of these things painfully well…

And yet, here she was, still getting stupidly jealous over it.

Yona sighed, wrapping her blanket around her head as if it could stifle the ache in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the mental image of Hak surrounded by beautiful women from her mind, but it just kept creeping back. For a moment, she wondered if things would have been easier if she hadn’t realized how she felt about him…No, definitely not. She’d feel the same, only she’d have no name for it.

“Hak! Where have you been for the past hours? Hime-sama is ill!” Kija’s voice suddenly piped up from outside the tent, only to be followed by a chorus of shushing.

What? Yona sat up immediately. Shouldn’t he be out until morning for… those kinds of activities?

“I was out, White Snake.” She heard Hak answer. “Hime is sick?”

“She said she has a headache,” Yun clarified, matter-of-factly. Then, with a voice tinged with anger, “It’s likely a byproduct of her long-term dehydration.”

“You didn’t answer me, Hak,” Kija hissed. “Where were you? You didn’t even tell us you were going anywhere! The last thing we need is someone else going missing just after we got Hime-sama back!”

“Sorry to worry you, White Snake. I needed some weapon polish so I went to buy some in-town.”

He was lying? She realized, and the blankets fell from around her shoulders. He was more ashamed to admit it to the others than to me? A strange, conflicting feeling twisted her gut. On one hand, she was happy he felt he could confide in her, that he trusted her to understand him in ways the others might not. On the other, it made her ache to realize just how little it mattered to him that she knew, just how little she must register to him as a woman.

The two feelings seemed to wrestle for dominance, and perhaps because she was already moping, the depressive feeling won.

“Let us know next time, Thunder Beast.” Yona vaguely heard Yun grumble. “I would’ve gone with you, we’re low on rice.”

“Yes, mother.”

“I never gave birth to you!”

Some muffled laughter followed, and Yona’s face felt warm. How silly and pathetic was she, feeling so warm and happy just because she heard him laugh… but Gods, did she hang on his every chuckle. She was just so glad to know Hak could still be genuinely happy, and she was so grateful to the others for welcoming him despite his incessant teasing.

The tent flaps ruffled suddenly, startling her. Scrambling to look as if she were asleep, Yona fell backward--missing her pillow and smacking the back of her head on the ground. She hit grass, so the blow wasn’t as harsh as it could be, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Her hands flew to her head, and an involuntary grunt of pain spilled from her lips just as the tent flaps were tugged open.

“Oh, Hime.”  Hak peered over her, concern wrinkling his brow. “Sorry. Did White Snake wake you?”

Yona sat up, cradling her head. “No,” She said, embarrassed. “My… head just hurts a bit.” At least it wasn’t a lie anymore.

“I can get Yun--” He started to duck back out of the tent flaps.

“No!” Yona was pretty sure Yun had no cure for stupidity, otherwise she’d have requested it far sooner. Scrap that, Yun would have used it on them far sooner. “It’s--I’m fine. Thank you, Hak.”

He heaved a sigh, and settled cross-legged at her feet. “If you say so,”

She was dying to ask why he was back so soon; if that meant he never actually went to the red-light district, if he was stopped by something, if he’d only been teasing her when he said that. The rational side of her brain stomped on each question before they found her mouth, shutting them down with one simple statement.

It’s none of your business.

“Did you… need something?” She asked instead.

At her question, Hak stiffened slightly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. His blue gaze flit around the tent, never focusing on her or anything for long. And perhaps it was the poor lighting, but Yona could swear she saw the slightest spread of redness across his cheeks. It was almost as if he was… nervous?  No. Not Hak. Not the same guy who had a snarky reply for everything, who didn’t sweat in the face of danger, who could be surrounded with beautiful women without batting an eye. Hak never got nervous, least of all in front of her… didn’t he?

After a moment of (hesitant?) silence, Hak sighed and jammed his free hand into his robe, retrieving a small parcel. It was plainly wrapped in brown paper, tied in place with a frayed string.

“Here.” He said, thrusting the package in her direction.

Yona blinked at the box, confused. “What--what is it?”

“Just...” He took her hand and laid the little parcel in her palm. “I, um. It’s for you.”

Yona was stunned. Hak, of all people, stumbling over his words and getting tongue-tied. It was something she rarely, if ever, experienced. Even when Jaeha would tease him about  something outrageous, he’d never respond past a threat. And yet, as he watched her unwrap the gift, he seemed finicky and flustered, as if he was fighting off the urge to snatch the package back from her.

She couldn’t understand what had him so bothered, but as she lifted the lid from the box, she completely forgot her desire to ask.

It was a small pendant looped through a thick, tan-leather cord. The cord was attached to an intricate, winged handle formed from tendrils of silver and dotted with a couple of tiny gems. At the base of handle, a long, thin powder-pink stone sat--polished and chiseled to a dull point.

“I can take it back and you can pick out something better,” Hak said quickly as she stared open-mouthed. “I don’t why I even thought I’d be able to pick something you’d--”

“Hak, it’s…” Yona interrupted, lifting the pendant from the box. A laugh bubbled from her chest. “It’s perfect.”

She was baffled that he just always seemed to know. It was like a super power of his; knowing everything about her without even trying, effortlessly reading her. He knew what she liked, what she hated, what she needed, how she needed it, what makes her happy, when she was sad… Hak just knew everything. One would think she’d get used to it after a lifetime of friendship, but she never could.

Only Hak would think to buy her a sword-shaped pendant. Only Hak would know how perfect such a thing would be.

“Are you sure?” He asked, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s no big deal if you don’t--”

“No really, it’s beautiful.” She shook her head, reaching behind her head to tie the leather cord around her neck. “I just… Why? How? When?”

Hak reached into his robe, fishing out the little blue lapis necklace she’d bought him the week prior. He looked down at it, then back up at her. “This was a… small comfort for me when we were separated.” He admitted softly, dropping blue shard of lapis so that it fell back against his chest. “I thought… I don’t know… that maybe it’d be nice if you had something to do the same.”

Yona reached down to touch the sword pendant at her chest, her cheeks reddening. She hadn’t realized he saw her gift that way.

A sly smile spread across his lips then, his stiff shoulders finally relaxing as he shrugged. “As for when and how? I bought it just now, with the money I’ve had saved from what Yun gives us every time we sell medicine in-town.” He said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “I told you I was going to the red-light district so you wouldn’t follow.”

Yona gasped in exasperation, whapping him on the arm. “You uncute liar.”

Deep down, she was relieved. Extremely so. He hadn’t spend the night surrounded by adoring, beautiful women, he’d spent it picking out a gift for her. The realization was equal parts embarrassing as it was a comfort--she’d let herself think of the most melodramatic scenarios, she had moped for hours, when she really had no reason to.

“How does it look?” She asked shyly, trying to distract herself. She tossed her red curls over her shoulder as to not obscure the pendant from view.

Hak reached between them for the necklace, tracing a thumb over its glossy surface. His lightning blue eyes flicked up to meet hers, and a gentle smile quirked his lips.

“It suits you.”

The simple praise left her face redder than her hair. She opened her mouth to thank him, unsure if she was thanking him for the pendant, the compliment, or just… everything. Before she could figure it out, she was interrupted by a new voice.

“I agree. It looks very cute on you, Yona-chan.”

Hak stiffened, a look of pure and unbridled annoyance crossing his face. Behind him, peeking through the tent flaps with a smirk so wide it nearly split his face, was Jaeha. He gave a wink, a hearty salute, and soon disappeared from sight. Predictably, Hak soon followed with a growl and clenched fists.

“You’re dead, Droopy Eyes.” He spat, tearing back out into the campsite.

Yona could hear Jaeha laughing somewhere above her, no doubt safely perched in a tree. Meanwhile, Yun was yelling warnings and Zeno was cheering for a fight. She found herself laughing along with him, clenching her new present in her hand fondly.

“I love it,” She admitted out loud to herself.

I love you.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

11 People on Their Private Obsessions

http://fashion-trendin.com/11-people-on-their-private-obsessions/

11 People on Their Private Obsessions

I watched a Netflix documentary about minimalism a few months ago and keep recalling one particular scene. The doc’s main subjects, Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus, are minimalism maximalists: they own just a few, necessary items of clothes; their homes are bare. No decorations. No knickknacks. No “stuff.” They don’t need a ton of things to be happy, and they travel America to spread the gospel of living without excess. As someone who stores sweaters in the oven and had to lobby with a professional closet cleaner to let me keep my box of costumes “just in case,” the concept was refreshing — it seemed freeing. But it also seemed impossible. I wanted to know what you’re supposed to do with all the impractical, space-taking, no-value, dust-collecting stuff that you love, that means something.

Millburn and Nicodemus get that question a lot, they explain about halfway through. They share an anecdote of a book collector who takes joy in their library, who likes to loan friends old books, find new ones, browse through dog-eared pages at whim; and the book collector wants to know whether or not, in order to convert to minimalism, they have to get rid of their collection. The minimalists’ answer is simple: keep it. That which fills you with joy and happiness, they reason, no matter how much space it takes up or how useful it is, is not excess. It’s not just “stuff.” It’s a part of you.

In what started as a pitch to celebrate Fandom Month, I asked members of the team to bring in their obsessions, which quickly translated into something more: their not-just-stuff — that which they collect and cherish, individual items that are important to them for various symbolic reasons. Matt, our Head of Operations, has held on to a pair of sky-high patent leather platform stilettos because they represent a pivotal change in his perspective. Nikki, our Director of Ad Operations and Product, brought in medals from all the half marathons she’s completed. Scroll down to see the things that matter most to them, and then, in the comments, tell us (or better yet, show us) your most important “stuff.”

Ashley, Social Media Editor

What do you collect? I collect U2 stuff. I brought in a few records (I don’t have a record player), some concert tees, and a wristband from a time I saw them live. I have a giant framed poster in my bedroom but I wasn’t sure how to get it across the city for this shoot.

What made you start this collection? How long has this collection been growing? I’ve been a huge fan of U2 since my freshman year of high school. My first items from around that time (though not pictured here) were an Achtung Baby CD and the book U2 by U2. They both currently live in my childhood bedroom.

Would you ever sell it? No way.

What do you need strangers to know about your U2 stuff? U2 gets a lot of inexplicable hate and I just love them so much and I need strangers to know that it’s okay to like whatever music you like. Britney Spears and U2 and whatever else aren’t guilty pleasures, they’re just good.

What does this collection say about you? It says I know great stuff when I hear it.

Have a good story about any of it? The SNL wristband is from last December, when I got a friend to get me into the show. It has no value to anyone else, but to me it’s something I wore the night The Edge and I touched elbows “by accident” and I teared up.

Amelia, Head of Creative

What did you bring in? Vampire Weekend’s debut album, Vampire Weekend, in record form.

Why is it special to you? It reminds me of a few very, very specific moments in my life. One in particular is the first time I heard the album, from start to finish. I think it was summer 2008, since the album came out in January that year. So many things happened in that short half hour that I feel like I could write a whole book around it. I have a few other albums from around that same time period that I feel the same way about, but I have no idea where those CDs are.

Would you ever sell the record? Sure, although I’d feel guilty because the record’s in bad shape. I’m not attached to the physical record — just the album itself. ~*It’s a metaphor, man.*~

What does this record say about you? That I am a very bad record owner? Also that I used to spend a lot of time at Urban Outfitters (because I own a Vampire Weekend record and was probably like “buying this is the coolest thing I have ever done.”). Also that I am unequivocally stuck in 2008, musically, and forever will be.

Crystal, Operations Manager

What did you bring in? A Halle Berry-as-Jinx-in-007-Barbie

What made you buy this doll? Representation has always mattered to me, and seeing Black dolls, especially one that depicts a character in a mainstream film like Bond, was so awesome that I couldn’t leave it behind.

Are you strict about who can/can’t “play” the Jinx doll? I don’t believe in “look, don’t touch.” I invest in these sorts of silly things so they can be enjoyed by everyone, not just me.

Would you ever sell it? No, it’s more sentimental value than anything else!

What do you need strangers to know about it? I know, the idea of Barbie is problematic, and I get that (and agree), but this doll is more about the kick-ass character and less about the body politics, for me.

What does it say about you? It really speaks to the duality of who I am, now that I’m thinking of it. I like to think that I’m Woke AF, but I also own a Barbie Doll. That about sums it up.

Haley, Digital Editor

What do you collect? I enjoy small animal figurines and have amassed a small army of them completely by accident. Not all of them are pictured here, but these were the ones I could find when I was late to work. They’re curiously scattered around my house.

What made you start this collection of animals? I’m easily charmed by cute things. I hesitate to call it a collection because there’s been no intentionality in its creation, but maybe that makes it all the more legit! I just love objects that look like creatures and I wish everything I owned had ears, eyes and a tail.

How long has this collection been growing? I think the first one was Helen the frog, pictured above. I found her in Chinatown in San Francisco in 2012 on what I used to call “my trinket hunts.” She’s followed me everywhere since, usually finding a home on my desk among my other treasures. Occasionally I will drop Helen on other people’s desks at Man Repeller when they’re feeling down. Her presence helps.

What does it say about you? I love animals so much and am quick to anthropomorphize. I think some part of me truly believes in the aliveness of certain inanimate objects. I find comfort in surrounding myself by a little family of cute things. That sounds so creepy, but I just think it makes life more charming.

Have a good story about any of them? The white seal you see is called a Squishie — you can buy them in bulk on Amazon. When I first bought them and had them shipped to the MR office, Amelia freaked out because she had just ordered one the week before. We ordered more as a group, and everyone at the office had one on their desk. When we started posting them on Instagram, people started asking where they were from and buying them too. It was a Squishie moment. A couple months later, my SF friend told me he shipped me a present for no reason. It was a box of Squishies. He had no idea I knew what they were. Guess it’s been a Squishie kind of year; we need them right now.

Harling, Fashion Editor

What do you collect? I brought in my collection of mini bags, which was amassed not so much as a byproduct of intentionally “collecting” them, but more so organically, as a result of my great affinity for the way carrying them makes me feel (like a stylish giant).

What made you start this collection? After I purchased my first mini bag two years ago and realized it was the perfect size combination of aesthetically pleasing (they’re adorable) and functionally utilitarian (they hold the perfect amount of stuff), it was full speed ahead.

There’s no storage in NYC — where do you keep all of it? This is a great question — one I’ve been struggling with given my bedroom itself is nearly as small as a mini bag. For a while, I stored them all around my room in various nooks and crannies (on top of my radiator, in between stacks of jeans, inside bigger bags), but that system proved to be problematic because I frequently forgot where I put them (that’s the thing about small bags — they’re tiny enough they can get lost, even in the tiniest of New York apartments). Now I keep them together in a giant basket underneath my shelves.

Would you ever sell any of it? I don’t know. This sounds weird, but each one has a different personality, so they kind of feel like my friends. I’m pretty attached to them.

Imani, Editorial Intern

What do you collect? I collect postcards from places I visit and museums/galleries.

What made you start this collection? I started collecting postcards when I came to college — so it’s been roughly four years now — because it was a really simple and cheap way to decorate. It’s become something much more sentimental; now my walls are covered with little memories.

Would you ever sell them? I don’t think anyone is interested in purchasing my collection, but maybe for the right price…? It depends on the postcard.

What does this collection say about you? I think my postcards are like puzzle pieces of who I am, as corny as that sounds. They are physical and visual artifacts of the experiences I’ve had and the emotions I’ve felt at different moments of my life.

Have a good story about any of them? One of my favorite postcards, an image of a bullfighter’s butt in hot pink hot pants that I got in Cordoba, went missing! I got it during my last full day in Spain when I went back to visit in August (I spent a semester in Madrid during the Spring semester of 2017). I was so devastated that it was gone that I tried to convince a friend in Spain to try and find me another just like it. A day later, I found it tucked in the notebook I brought with me on my trip for safe keeping.

Louisiana, Visual Assistant

What do you collect? MUGS!

What made you start this collection? I think it started when I was about 15? 16? I bought a Polish pottery mug and got hooked. I like ceramics and I use mugs every single day, so the collection grew from there.

There’s no storage in NYC — where do you keep all of it? Thankfully I live alone so all my kitchen cabinet space is for me and my mugs.

Would you ever sell any of it? Maybe! There are a few I don’t *love.*

What do you need strangers to know about it? I try and get one every time I go on a trip!

What does it say about you? That I love beverages, which is true! What’s also true is that I probably always have seven half-full mugs around my apartment at all times.

Have a good story about any of them? Two very nice ladies at Waffle House gave me mugs (one regular, one holiday edition!) after I asked if I could have them. GOTTA LOVE THE SOUTH.

Do you have a policy about using them or who else gets to drink out of them? I have a ranking of which mugs I love the most, so I save my highest ranking ones for myself and then let others use those lower on the rank. Hehe.

Matt, Head of Operations

What did you bring in? A pair of size 15 black platform patent leather pumps.

How long have you had them and what made you keep them? I’ve had them for four years. Aside from their timeless and classic nature, they were the first pair of heels I ever owned and a gift from a good friend who had them custom-made via a human named Blondie.

Who is/isn’t allowed to touch these shoes? All are welcome to experience their glory.

Would you ever sell them? No — they’re sentimental!

What do you need strangers to know about them? While on the surface they are just a beautiful pair of shoes sized for a large-footed individual, they represent a pretty pivotal moment for me in terms of opening my mind to sartorially expressing myself beyond the bounds of traditional gendered clothing.

What do these heels say about you? That I am confident in my balancing abilities and love living on the edge. (Also that I’m not afraid of a sprained ankle?)

Have a good story about any of them? Less of a story and more of a newfound appreciation for every sorority girl I went to college with.

Nikki, Director of Ad Operations & Product

What do you collect? Medals from races that I’ve completed

When did you start this collection and what made you keep going? I did my first half marathon in 2008. I was so happy that I saved the medal and the bib from it. After that, I just started saving all of them and never stopped!

There’s no storage in NYC — where do you keep all of it? Thankfully, I have a ton of closet space. I hang them on a hook tucked behind a dresser in my closet.

Would you ever sell any of your medals? I don’t think anyone would buy one, but I want to hold onto these forever.

What do you need strangers to know about your collection? There’s an accompanying Google spreadsheet with the date, race type (run, cycling, tri), distance and results for all of my races.

Have a crazy story about any of them? One year I tried to do a half marathon every month. I got up to 10 and then a few storms wrecked my streak.

Patty, Head of Partnerships

What do you collect? Letters between my grandparents during their first year of marriage while my grandpa was in the service overseas and my grandma was pregnant with my dad.

What made you start this collection? I love letters. Reading them, writing them, receiving them, reading books with letters IN them. My aunt found these and, because of my letter obsession, gave them to me for safekeeping. I treasure them (and her, thank you Aunt Mary!).

In addition to these letters, I have most letters that anyone has ever written me: letters from my parents and brothers when I went away to college, love letters from past boyfriends, letters and postcards from friends. There are some meaningful letters that I’ve lost along the way, and I do miss them.

There’s no storage in NYC — where do you keep all of it? Um, in my apartment with no digital back up. I know, I know, working on it.

Would you ever sell any of it? How dare you.

What do you need strangers to know about it? That my grandma had the most beautiful handwriting in the entire universe, and she was a lefty!

What does your collection of letters say about you? Words matter to me. And I need to back up my shit more regularly.

Have a good story about any of the letters? There is one letter in there that my grandma wrote while she and my grandfather were dating. She was in college in Kansas, he in Indiana (her brother was his roommate). My favorite bit: “Tony, I got the lead in the play! I was so excited when I found out that I could scarcely think. It is really a tremendous part and will be quite a challenge. Thank you so much for your prayers. They really help.” I MEAN C’MON.

Starling, Social Media Intern

What do you collect? Star jewelry!

What made you start this collection? At first, it was accidental. I received a lot of gold jewelry as gifts. Then I started to realize that wearing the items when I started a new class or new job helped people remember my name.

How long has this collection been growing? I had a terrible nickel allergy growing up, so once the allergy faded and I was allowed to get my ears pierced, it was a BIG DEAL. I bought my first star earrings at the pharmacy in Canada where my sister and I got our ears pierced together.

Would you ever sell any of it? Nope.

What do you need strangers to know about it? My name isn’t STERLING. Or Sterlene. Or Charlene. Or Sternum (yes, I got that written on a Starbucks cup once).

What does your collection say about you? When I first learned to write my name, I was desperate to perfect my criss-cross star abilities. I knew I wanted to write my name with an actual star in it. It’s been my legal signature on my passports and every legal document. My sister Rein wrote her name with a raindrop on the ‘i’, my sister K’s name is just one letter long, and my sister Willow used to doodle a willow tree out of the ‘l’s, so name imagery was a big thing in my fam.

Have a good story about any of your stars? I wore the dangling star earrings (from Madewell) to my first day at Man Repeller, and so far I haven’t been called Sterling once!

Photos by Louisiana Mei Gelpi.