#(and hold it down) verse

[pandadrake]

Spider-Society and The Day of Lots of Involuntary Trips to Earth-19999. (Finally finished this, god damn.)

I hadn’t seen any takes on what Spider-Society was like during Spider-man: No Way Home (2021), so I thought about it too hard.

I.e. I pulled up a clip of No Way Home to see what the Peter-abduction spell would look like from Miguel’s POV, then realized he'd have no idea what he's looking at and would probably mistake it for something else.

[unbloodiedmartyr]

never dreamt of such sterile hands. you keep 'em folded in your lap and raise them up to beg for scraps. you know he's holding you down with the tips of his fingers, just the same.

[sojourner-between-worlds]

If you need me I'll be chewing on the fact that, yes, the other eight uses are in Exodus and are about the Tabernacle tapestries and in the New Testament our bodies are called the temple of the Lord

[autumnalfallingleaves]

Particularly excited about the rise of Changeling Hilda content as of recent :D

Anyway I'm incorporating Louise into my (and hold it down) 'verse because I love her. She's not phased by much, is she?

reblogs are highly appreciated, and please do not repost my art

BONUS: Local Changeling Fed Up With Fish, More At Eleven

[zepskies]

Wake Me Up - Part 3

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Get ready for some angsty, but fun attempts at memory jogging. 😅

Song Inspo: “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers.

Word Count: 4.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some...mature talk lol. Angst and hurt/comfort, fluff, PTSD, protective Ben, tinge of spice~

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 3: “When You Hold Me”

Those first few days were the hardest ones.

Marie ran out of paid time off, which meant she had to go back to work. That left you alone with Ben during the day.

He was standing in the middle of the kitchen, arms crossed, and glaring at you after you’d just pushed away the bowl of bland instant oatmeal he’d “made” for you.

“We’re not gonna have this discussion again. You need to fucking eat,” he said. “I could feed you, though I promise you’re not gonna like it.”

His surly, frowning face was annoying you. His deep voice was annoying you. His tall, ridiculous wall-of-man body in your line of vision was annoying you, clothed in the rumpled shirt and sweatpants he’d slept in.  

Everything about him annoyed you right now.

But that could also have something to do with the pounding ache in the back of your skull, radiating forward and between your eyes.

“Bro, I’m on like, three kinds of medication,” you replied in weary irritation. “With what appetite do you expect me to eat?”

Bro? His eyebrow twitched. He saw the pain and tiredness written across your face though, and the way you were sitting hunched at the breakfast bar, arms crossed on the counter. He softened a little.

“Look, I get it,” he started to say.

“No, you don’t,” you snapped. Your eyes closed as the pain sharpened. You lifted your hands to either side of your temples. “You don’t know what this feels like.”

You huffed and dropped your hands flat on the counter in frustration. Your eyes opened, and you looked down at the various healing scars littering your arms. You knew there were a few more across your neck and chest, and even your thighs. No matter how you stood, sat, or laid, it was painful to move your body. Even your face still hurt, with the fracture and bruises.

“You’re not the one who looks like Edward Scissorhands had a party,” you said, gesturing at yourself as you glared up at Ben. Emotion began to rise in your throat. “Or for a reference you’ll actually understand, how about this: I’m the Bride of goddamn Frankenstein. A fucking patchwork quilt.”

Ben hardened again, even with the deep pit forming in his stomach.

“That’s enough—”

“And despite what little you, or my mom, Grace, Annie, or even the doctors have told me, I can’t even remember who did this to me or what the hell happened,” you said. Hot tears welled up in your eyes. You wiped at them furiously and turned your face away.

“So no, the indestructible supe doesn’t understand. You literally can’t!” You pushed away from the counter and did your best not to lose your balance when a wave of vertigo hit you.

Ben started toward you, but you held up a hand against him.

“Just leave me the hell alone,” you muttered.

It wasn’t the first time you’d ever said that to him, but somehow, this one cut into him worse than the last.

Over the next several weeks, you did begin to heal from your injuries. Your doctor even noted that you were healing better than she expected. Bruises faded, wounds slowly became scars, some of their stitches removed, and with the right topical medication, a couple of them began to disappear.

The memories remained—at least for Ben. Finding you in that dark, disgusting place, breaking your chains, seeing how thoroughly that piece of shit had worked you over…

It still made him angry at times. He’d broken a couple of mugs, and one near-empty beer bottle. (You’d only caught him once, though he’d given you some bullshit excuse as to why.)

Your memory, on the other hand, still didn’t return.

And you weren’t an easy patient. That episode in the kitchen wasn’t the first, nor was it the last. Often the pain made you crabby and irritable, whenever your medication wore off. The head injury was also causing vast mood swings that Ben could barely keep up with.

It was all he could do to stop himself from snapping back at you at times (and sometimes he failed). He wasn’t exactly Mr. Rogers.

Marie was the only buffer. At least, when she was home. On more than one occasion, she’d had to try and diffuse the tension.

She was working during the day though, which of course, left you with Ben.

You were prone to headaches and dizziness, so he was careful with you, more than he’d ever been. You were starting to notice how he sometimes had to correct himself before he touched you, or forced himself to be deliberately slow when he helped you. 

Your mom had also been doting on you, laying out your clothes, brushing your hair, trying her best to cook for the three of you in the evening. Apparently, she’d been taking lessons, though she still couldn’t cook for shit. Ben often suggested takeout, since he was also no “Betty fucking Crocker,” in his own words.

Still, it was a foreign feeling to be taken care of. It often left you unbalanced, even after your vertigo settled, or your headaches eased.

You considered it while you and Ben were channel surfing together from opposite ends of the couch in the living room. Your mom had just given you a blanket to cover your shoulders, before she went off to water your potted plants on the balcony for you. It was a Saturday, so she had the day off work.

You watched her go with a measure of disbelief.

“Look at Mother Theresa go,” you remarked. “You’d think they replaced my mom with one of the Stepford Wives.”

Ben snorted, because he actually knew the movie you were talking about. You’d forced him to watch it with you a few months ago, mostly to tease him.

“She’s never babied me this much in my life,” you said. “Not even when I was still old enough to be babied.”

Instead of commiserating with you, Ben just sighed, shaking his head a little. He glanced away from the History Channel on the screen to shoot you a glance.

“Maybe you should cut your mom some fucking slack,” he said. “She’s doing a hell of a lot for you. Even more than I am.”

You raised a brow at him. While you had a feeling that wasn’t so easy for him to admit, something about his words annoyed you.

“You clearly don’t know her like I do,” you said.

Your childhood had been no picnic. While you didn’t necessarily blame your mom (anymore) for staying with your father when you were a kid, you had never truly been a child. Your self-imposed job had been to protect your sister’s childhood, and sometimes, your mother too.

Ben gave you a more direct look.

“I know plenty,” he said.

And in his eyes, you saw that he did know something. Perhaps too much. You gathered the throw blanket closer around your body and sank further into your side of the couch.

The last thing you wanted to talk about was your messed up childhood, let alone your father. You couldn’t even remember his death, though Marie told you that you had been there. And so had Ben.

You snuck a look at him while his attention had returned to the TV. He’d settled on Ice Road Truckers. You weren’t impressed.

“Ugh. Can we watch something else?” you asked. “Something funny maybe, like How I Met Your Mother?”

Ben shot you a look. “Sounds like a chick show.”

“Not true! It has universal appeal,” you argued. Slowly you raised yourself from your corner of the couch, grimacing just a bit as it disturbed the delicate equilibrium of your still-fractured skull. It was healing, but that, of course, would take the most time. Your headaches would turn into migraines if you weren’t careful.

Ben knew that full well as he watched you move towards him across the couch. He couldn’t help but reach out a hand to steady you by your arm. You gifted him with a smile and grabbed onto him.

“Please?” you implored.

Ben tried to remain unaffected, but that smile of yours was endearing. Plus, it wasn’t often that you willingly reached out to him, touched him.

“I’ll do you one better,” he said, turning off the TV with the remote. You gave him a curious look. He turned to you with a smile.

“Let’s go for a ride.”

Of course this man would have a Benz, you thought. The car was black and sleek with beige interior, and it was both comfortable and decked out with all the modern bells and whistles.

You wondered if he knew what half of these buttons did as you gazed across the dashboard, but the path of your eyes continued until you settled on the man himself. Ben was casually dressed in a burgundy sweater and dark brown slacks, a silver Rolex on his wrist. He had one hand casually on the wheel and the other resting in his lap.

Part of you itched to take his hand, but you decided against it. You could admit, if only to yourself, that you were warming up to him.

Maybe you even liked him.

You knew you didn’t always make it easy, but he had been as patient and gentle as he could be with you, for a man who clearly wasn’t used to being either for anyone.

Despite his gruff exterior, however, you knew he had to care about you to put up with all this. It made you more willing to trust him…and even more curious about him.

“What’s my favorite color?” you asked.

Ben gave you a furrowed look. “What?”

You crossed your arms over your blouse.

“We’ve supposedly been together for a year,” you reasoned. “You should know what my favorite color is.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

“Come on,” you nudged his arm, trying to get him to smile. You succeeded, just a little.

“I don’t know…blue,” he guessed. Your mouth fell open in shock.

“How do you not know my favorite color’s red?” you said. “That’s the most basic thing ever.”

“What are you, five years old? Who fucking cares?” he said, rolling his eyes.

“I do!” you said. “Well, fine, Mr. Grump. When’s my birthday?”

With another shake of his head, he did correctly answer that question, at least.

“What’s my favorite food?” you asked.

“What’s with the goddamn quiz?” he retorted.

“I’m seeing how well you actually know me,” you countered. “Come on. Impress me.”

Ben slowed to a stop at a busy intersection. He’d been trying to jog your memory by passing certain landmarks he thought you might recognize, like the grocery store you two always shopped at, or the park where you liked to go for walks. So far, you seemed disinterested in the sights and more interested in grilling him.

Despite his longsuffering sigh, he had to wrack his brain in order to come up with something for you.

“The Beatles are your favorite band. Specifically the Abbey Road album,” he said. 

That didn’t exactly answer your earlier question, but…he wasn’t wrong. 

“Okay, you get a point there,” you said.

“And you fucking love Christmas,” he said, somehow with both annoyance and fondness. “Tacky as hell, with the…the ribbons, and the red flowers, and the jingle balls, and whatever the fuck else you can get your hands on. You love that shit. Because when you were a kid, that was the only time of the year your family got any peace.”

You were smiling at his description, but you sobered when he got to that last bit. Ben met your gaze. 

“I know that you’ve had three boyfriends before me,” he said. Then, a smirk grew across his face. “But I’m the only one who’s made you come. Every time. Like a goddamn faucet.”

You gaped as your face grew red with a hot blush. “Excuse me—”

“You claim to like getting taken from behind the best. And you do. You’re all too happy to get bent in half for me. Hair pulling, ass-slapping, the whole sticky nine yards,” he continued, with an even fonder gleam of memory in his eyes. His hands caressed the leather wheel of his car, long fingers flexing.

“But you actually like it better when you can see my face, watch me work. I don’t blame you,” he added, smiling. “I mean, if there was an Oscar for laying it the fuck down, I would’ve taken that shit year after year. Would’ve beat out Burt Reynolds by a fucking landslide.”

You thought you were about to combust, whether from indignation, or straight up embarrassment, you didn’t know. (And you were going to ignore the little tremble of heat between your legs.)

But just as you were about to blow your top, figuratively speaking, Ben’s expression became more serious when his gaze returned to you.

“I know that you’ve had to take care of yourself. And that you’ve been alone all your life,” he said. Then a slight pause, before his attention went back to the road. “That’s something you and I have in common.”

The light turned green. Your anger and embarrassment settled, somewhat, into contemplation. You didn’t know what to make of this man.

He was infuriating, with all kinds of audacity. He was crass, and at times, he grated on your very last nerve.

But somehow, he knew you. He seemed to know the parts of you that you didn’t even want to know.

Sensing your angry gaze on the side of his face, he turned to you with a devil-may-care grin.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Ben, I’m not dressed for this,” you said, leaning in close to whisper to him.

He’d taken you to a nice steakhouse for dinner, on the even more affluent side of town. You still couldn’t believe you’d moved out of New York City to Scarsdale, of all places.

Ben wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you closer, enough for you to feel his body heat.

“You’re just right,” he looked down on you with a teasing wink. It made you blush, despite yourself, with a small smile.

You went with him to a secluded booth in the back, by his request with the hostess. They seemed to know him, so maybe he was a regular. Or more likely, both of you were regulars. This place was only vaguely familiar, but when you saw the menu, you knew you were going to get the salmon.

Ben snorted when you said so.

“Yeah, that’s what you always get,” he said.

He smiled though—at the fact that this little outing was helping you make progress after all.

He didn’t need the menu either. He always ordered the dry-aged porterhouse steak. You couldn’t drink on the medication you were on, but he ordered a glass of bourbon for himself.

When the meal eventually came out, you glanced at his enormous plate with wide eyes. That had to be the biggest damn steak you’d ever seen, along with a huge loaded baked potato and a side of broccoli. You doubted the greens would do all that much for him, nutrition-wise. 

“Whoa. Did they cut up a stegosaurus back there?” you quipped.

Ben chuckled. He’d actually missed your sense of humor, no matter how dumb it was sometimes. He unwrapped the steak knife they gave him from his napkin and started to carve a big piece.

You raised your brows, but shifted your attention to your fish and mashed potatoes. It was delicious. Like melt-in-your-mouth good, and you weren’t sure fish was supposed to be “melty.” No wonder you two liked coming here.

But then, your thoughts were entirely derailed.

Hearing the sound of his knife hitting the plate, carving into the meat—it struck a discordant note in your mind. You looked over, and the sharp, silvery gleam of it caused a vision to flash across your eyes…

Of a blade sliding against your skin, over and over. Along with questions. The same questions being asked of you, over and over.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

“Tell me!” a man demanded. “Give me something.”

He grabbed your face, squeezed your neck until you choked on blood and spit.

“Hey!” a more familiar voice cut through it all. “Come on, sweetheart. Answer me.”

You blinked and caught yourself mid-gasp, staring into the deep green of Ben’s eyes.

Your head was resting on his shoulder, his hand pressed to the side of your cheek, which stung slightly, as if he’d had to try and wake you. His arm was wrapped around your waist in the booth.

He was gentle in sliding your hair away from your face, but his own was hard and almost angry, as his brows were knitted together. His gaze then traveled across the room, and you realized that there were other people in the restaurant now watching you and Ben. Even the servers stopped what they were doing at the sound of his shout.

He gave them all a pointed glare.

“What? Nothing to fucking see here,” he snapped. Most of them were wise enough to turn away, back to their meals and conversation. Ben focused on you as you caught your breath. You were finally able to support yourself, though you stayed leaning on his shoulder. He wasn’t about to let you go either, until he got some answers.

“What the hell happened?” he asked. You frowned at his gruff tone, until you met his eyes. Somehow, you could see that there was worry there.

You glanced down, and you closed your eyes when you saw it. You pressed your face into his arm to steady yourself.

“The uh…the knife,” you whispered. “It made me see something…remember something.”

“What did you remember?” he asked quickly. You sucked in a shuddering breath, squeezing your eyes shut tighter.

“Nothing good,” you whispered.

You felt him pause. You heard the shuffle of silverware, a thump on the table. Then his hand came up and cupped your cheek.

“It’s okay. I put it away,” he said.

Tears burned behind your eyelids, and you buried your face harder against his chest. At this point, it wasn’t just about seeing the knife. It was knowing that whatever had happened to you, it had truly been hell. Unlike anything you’d ever been through before.

“You want to go home?” came Ben’s voice, deep and steady in your ear.

You sniffed and nodded, as your tears seeped into the fabric of his sweater. He rubbed your back, holding you more securely.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Unfortunately, the episode at the restaurant led you to a migraine. Ben carried you to the master bedroom and laid you down, helped you undress down to your underwear, and gave you a shirt you liked to sleep in. He turned all the lights off and made sure the curtains were closed tight.

Marie brought you your pain medication with a glass of water. Ben hoped there was enough in your stomach that the pills wouldn’t make you nauseous as well, like they occasionally did.

After you took the meds, you curled up on the bed and closed your eyes tightly, trying not to whimper like a child. You’d dealt with pain before; that was nothing new. But this was getting ridiculous. 

Ben gave Marie a certain look. “I’ve got it from here.”

She gazed at you with sympathetic tears in her eyes, but she nodded and touched his arm.

“If you need anything, just call for me,” she whispered.

Ben nodded, but he closed the door behind her and began by taking off his watch, then his shoes, pants, and sweater. He changed into a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt.

You were too busy hugging your pillow and pressing your face into it. You didn’t realize he was still with you until the bed dipped behind you.

Ben turned you around and gathered you into his arms. You inhaled sharply, but then you clung to him. His chest and middle were warm, a bit unnaturally so.

“You’re hot,” you muttered, splaying a hand against his chest. “Like a radiator.”

Ben quirked a smile. “Yeah, you tend to complain about that.”

You shook your head and pressed yourself closer to him. “Not today.”

He wiped the tears from your cheek and laid a kiss on your forehead. He held you that way for a while, just silence and the sound of your breathing covering the room. Eventually, the pain medication began to kick in, helping to ease your pounding skull.

You pulled back enough to see Ben’s face. He was still awake, but he opened his eyes and met yours in the dim light. You reached up and touched his bearded cheek, hesitantly.

“Why can’t I remember?” you asked, in a broken voice.

Ben’s brows furrowed. He curled his hand around yours and let out a breath.

“I don’t know,” he said, but all he wanted was for this to be over.

“I could take this from you,” he said. “What’s the big fucking deal about a blood transfusion?”

Your fingers stilled against his cheek. Your tearful eyes averted from his, but you weren’t as opposed to the idea as you were before.

“The last time, it healed me?” you asked.

“Within the hour,” he said. His hand tightened a fraction on yours. “It’ll be like it never happened. And your memories could even come back.”

You sighed, briefly closing your eyes. Your hand fell from his cheek, but you nodded.

“Okay. I’ll think about it,” you said.

Ben’s frown remained, but at least it was a step in the right direction. He took your chin and slowly tilted your face up to his. You stared up at him with shining eyes. He didn’t like the pain he still saw there, but he did like the way you glanced down at his lips.

He took a chance, and he leaned down to meet you with a kiss. What first was a gentle touch, soon became heady as your hand slid up his arm and into his hair. He brought you flush against him and deepened the kiss, when his tongue swept past your lips and brushed against yours. You welcomed him in with a surprised moan.

He hadn’t tasted you in so damn long, it was like indulging a craving he’d been denying himself. It was even harder to slow down and ease away from your lips.

You rested your forehead against his chest afterward.

“Wow,” you breathed. “Okay.”  

Ben chuckled. But unlike the movies, a kiss didn’t break the spell. You were his, but not completely. 

He wanted nothing more than to show you how much you could be…but your body was still weak. He would have to continue protecting you, even from himself. 

“I want to stay here tonight,” he said. 

Despite his earlier thoughts, he didn’t think he could take one more night of not being with you in this bed. He could control himself. He just wanted to make sure you were all right, and safe with him.

It took you a moment to decide, but you nodded. 

“You can stay,” you agreed, with a more teasing smile. “I don’t think your old man back can handle the couch anymore.”

He snorted in amusement. There was some more of your sense of humor peeking through. 

Meanwhile, you still weren’t totally convinced that him sleeping in the bed with you was a good idea. A good part of you craved his nearness, and how he made you feel safe…but you also weren’t sure if you were ready to continue being so vulnerable with him. 

Just when you were about to put some distance here between you and tell him to stay on his side, Ben rolled you back around so that your back was pressed to his chest. He slid a warm, strong arm around your waist. His lips pressed to your bare shoulder. The sleep shirt you wore (one of his old shirts) had ridden down your arm.

“Just relax,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

And you actually believed it.

You felt comfortable and secure in his embrace. Soon enough, you relaxed into him.

Sleep wasn’t easy, but you got there in time. It even lasted for a while.

Just not long enough.

In your dreams, there were flashes of things that didn’t make sense. They were jumbled together like white noise on a TV, occasionally screeching with color, and mostly red with blood.

You woke up shaking and sweating.

Ben was a light sleeper at best. He was startled awake in confusion, disturbed by how you had been tossing and turning and making sounds of distress. He turned toward you and moved his arm to make room for you, but he decided he would let you come to him this time.

You didn’t disappoint him. You reached for him and buried your face in the crook of his neck for a while, trying to ground yourself in him. He held you and rubbed your back until you calmed down.

When you pulled away slightly, and spoke his name in the dark, Ben looked into your eyes. For a moment, he could’ve sworn you were there. The real you.

“Thanks for staying with me,” you whispered.

Ben was disappointed. This wasn’t you remembering. But at least, this was you being you, thanking a man like him.

He just nodded and guided you back into his arms. You let him hold you for the rest of the night. 

AN: So close, but yet so far. 🥲

But just wait for the last part...

Next Time:

You brushed your fingers over that picture in wonder. You didn’t remember that day, even though you were sure you must have been there…

It was so odd to see so much of your life in pictures, yet it was all still so fuzzy, or entirely blank in your mind.

You paused, blushing once again when you saw the picture of you getting out of the shower with the towel barely wrapped around your body. Why the hell would this be in a photo album?

You quickly moved on. Though you stopped next at a picture of you and Ben in what looked like a dark nightclub. The way he was holding you, looking at you like he was ready to devour you, and the way you were looking up at him, with a smile that said he’d better damn well try…

It made a sharp pain lance behind your eyes.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4 (Finale!)

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD/Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

i did not realize that eridan rap was originally from an epic rap battle of history .

-mod dave <- FORGOT about the walter white rap

[cupcakeinat0r]

Happy 1 year anniversary to ATSV n to my sweet, sweet boyfriend, Miguel O’Hara, te amo, papi <3

[panstarry]

from the depths of my hard drive, a spider emerges... 🕸🍋

[coyotetatertot]

Promotional for Tate's company in my interp of A Better World AU.

FULL TEXT BENEATH THE CUT‼️‼️

God, I love exploring what he can do if he hadn't suffered through his father abandoning them and then YEARS of caretaker burnout as he tried in vain to heal his dad. What if he hadn't learned to fear his intellect and skill. What if Appalachia hadn't been cut out of him by being raised in the Bay Area. What if his abilities and cultural identity were both nurtured and encouraged by loving parents and a strong educational support system. What then. 👁️

I think he definitely still has his issues, because public figures often do lol. Fame causes so many problems. But fuck if I don't wanna let this lil scruffy genius out of his mental cage of repression, burnout, and depression. I think he's wild, enthusiastic, and has so much heart and spirit underneath all those layers of bullshit. 30 years of suffering and he is in his 30s, the divergence of the AU puts him on a radically different path from childhood and that makes him a TOTALLY new person.

On the highest peaks in the world, the strongest tethers aren't your rope, but the emotional ties which unite your climbing team and keep you connected to those waiting for you back home. Whether it's by blood or by choice, Tater Higgs McGucket understands the importance of family. Son of revolutionary inventor and co-founder of the Institute of Oddology Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, Tate describes his father as his closest friend, collaborator, and mentor. In collaboration with family friend and other co-founder of the Institute Stanford ("Ford") Pines, the three first designed their renowned supplemental oxygen delivery system after an expedition studying anomalies in the Himalayas.

"Our investigation took us to Camp 1 of Manaslu," Tate described in an exclusive interview with Mountaineering Monthly last week, "And I was shocked by the amount of traffic. This was some of the roughest terrain on the planet, but we saw more people out there than on some of my hiking trips back home in Oregon. . . Ford was our interpreter, and after talking with the locals, we realized that there were all these companies selling tickets to the top — with sherpas puttin' themselves on the line just to ferry tourists to the summit."

The influx of inexperienced climbers has had disastrous consequences, as Tate witnessed firsthand. "A lot of these people, they're physically and mentally capable of makin' that kinda climb, but maybe they don't follow best practice. You can summit without any oxygen, if ya stop and acclimatize along the way. But that takes a while, so it can be really temptin' to ignore your body and throw an oxygen bandaid at the problem. But then you're puttin' yourself in an emergency situation if it fails. While we were there, one of those climbers ran out, and a sherpa had to run more oxygen up there. I told him there was a storm a-comin', but he went up anyway. And we ended up losin' 'em both."

Tate's growing twang was underscored by a nervous bouncing of his leg, and he took a moment to collect himself before resuming the interview.

"Dad and I had a look at these open circuit breathing apparatuses. While they were reliable, we saw they were plum wasteful. Knew we could make somethin' better. There's a growin' culture of risk-takin' 'round them mountains. And maybe we cain't stop the industry that's causin' these problems, but we can at least make it safer for them climbers. 'Cuz at the end of the day, regardless of what ya think about these people? With an accident like that, there’s people left behind that're a-hurtin' somethin' fierce. Partners, friends, kids without parents. I mean, just the thought of losin' my dad like that is enough to break my heart — but that's reality, for both the families of that climber and the sherpa who died tryin' to save him. . . Naw, I reckon we can do better."

That was how the youngest McGucket, who had become a household name in the 1990s for his work in designing personal computers with his father's company, first ventured into the world of alpinism. But what he hadn't expected was to fall in love during the process.

"I always needed nature," he explained, "I get overstimulated awfully easy, and so I go out there to clear my head. Been hikin' and fishin' since I was a kid. . . And so, after workin' with climbers to test this equipment — I saw a lot of them eight-thousanders up close, right? And one day, I just knew I had to see it from the top."

But having become familiar with the dangers involved, Tate knew that preparing himself for such a climb would be no easy task.

Luckily, he found a trainer in Ford's twin brother, Stanley Pines.

“Stanley is a stand-up guy. Real old school. Throws a hell of a punch, catches a hell of a catfish.” Tate said of his mentor, “He’s a fighter. So I knew I needed him, because all it takes is one slip up or act of god for these expeditions to turn life-or-death. And he’s been great. Neither of us knew much about rock climbin’ or mountaineering before all this. But we’ve learned together. And having summited a few eight-thousanders now, I can tell ya, I wouldn’t be here without his help.”

Also aiding in his expeditions were his prototype real-time weather and vital monitoring systems, which have since become standard issue in all McGucket brand protective wear. But Tate is most proud of his high-frequency beacon system, which allows climbers to communicate with their partners and first responders — even from inside perilous crevasses.

"The danger of avalanche or serac collapse is real. There are times when your life just ain’t in your own hands. Our systems allow climbers to communicate when they’re entering or exiting a perilous area, and can send out an SOS. They’re also constantly pinging, so in the event somethin’ does happen, they’ll help your climbing partners or first responders find you.”

But high altitudes aren’t the only place you’ll find the twin peaks of McGucket Mountaineering. Tate’s inventions have seen heavy use by first responders of all stripes, from firefighters to wilderness search and rescue — and he has recently signed a contract to manufacture respirators for medical use.

"At the end of the day, it’s all about making it home safely.” Tate concluded, “You gotta prioritize what matters most. You can do incredible things in this world, but none of it matters if you can’t share them with the people who love you.”

[citylighten]

long before i came to simblr i had an au where [middle aged] eve was a thief and this pose? these expressions? this was the dynamic of sal and eve. 😭

[stansangel]

things @diamonds-at-y11 has begged me to watch pvpciv parkourciv arcane across the spider-verse the owl house (probably more if i forgot any she'll tell u guys trust)

who's coming to the watch party!

[gingermintpepper]

I hear the original Odysseus and Epic the musical’s Odysseus are pretty different to the point they’re sorta their own characters- how do you feel about this?

Hello beloved Anon!! Thank you so much for the ask <3

Generally, I feel like a very big part of the appeal of adapting stories, especially myths, comes from seeing what these stories and characters mean to the author and how their interpretations of the themes and conflicts in a piece of classical literature are expressed in their interpretation of the story as a whole. This, naturally, means that I fully expect and look forward to unique interpretations of well loved figures whenever I hear that something is going to be adapted! I love being able to see what aspects of a character has stuck with an author, I love being able to trace said aspects back to the original myth and see what other places the author has picked up inspiration from along the way to inform their interpretations! A big part of the appeal of reading and interacting with a whole lot of different mythical media comes from my genuine excitement and anticipation in seeing how a favourite figure of mine has been adapted or how a moment from a story that I really like has been handled!

With respect to specifically Epic and the Odyssey, my opinions on how the characters have been adapted are somewhat mixed. Putting aside my general misgivings about the current writing of the musical, I really like the directions Herrans has taken with the theming and the broad strokes of Odysseus' character and consequent arc. I like the idea of Eurylochus as a well-meaning but still very fallible second, I like the idea of Odysseus and Athena's close-knit mentorship that completely goes to shit after the Cyclops Incident, I even really liked a lot of the representations of the gods - from Hermes' carefree and relaxed kind of power to Aelous' frivolous cruelty to Zeus' power and command prior to God Games. A lot of the interpretations in the Wisdom Saga are things I feel much more neutral-negative about though. While Telemachus' ingénue-esque naivete and enthusiasm in Legendary and Little Wolf is endearing, I much prefer the Odyssey's slight desperate but unfailingly politically apt Telemachus - the wily son who helped his mother with her staling schemes and who was praised for his wit by his father. Telemachus is a young man and while he's technically characterised as such in EPIC, he's also treated in the same way a Disney Princess is where she is technically a young woman but must still appeal to very small children and I'm just not a big fan of that. I'm also not a big fan of Antinous' characterisation though that was something I was originally intensely excited about in the early days of following EPIC! Hold Them Down is a song I'd been dying to hear a full version for because I felt like it captured the quiet menace of Antinous so well - his charisma, his vile motivations, his absolute disdain for the strong-willed Penelope who has thwarted his attempts to take Ithaca for himself and the way his mask has slipped from barely cordial but socially correct visitor to absolute monster who is willing to do anything to get that crown. Just, UGH, Hold Them Down had me HYPED, but the Antinous we got in Little Wolf was... inelegant. Not subtle at all, crass with his intentions - the kind of guy who would've gotten kicked out ages ago for contempt against the queen. The whole political aspect of why they couldn't just kick the damn suitors out is that technically they'd never done anything punishable that would justify rejecting them and sending them on their way. Antinous was the head of that malicious compliance - the one who had the intelligence to be menacing but not so much that his words could be blatant insults or threats. That was part of the whole point of Odysseus striking Antinous down first! Little Wolf's Antinous,,, was not that and I found myself intensely disappointed by it considering that he was that in the earlier versions of Hold Them Down.

My other misgivings in terms of characters just have to do with Apollo, Hephaestus and Zeus in God Games tbh. I'm someone who is generally more concerned with the portrayal of gods in a work than I am with the humans and EPIC has a super unique take on all of the gods that accompany and inhabit its world. I've made a separate post voicing my misgivings about Epic's Apollo but I don't have a long laundry list of issues with EPIC's Hephaestus, I just wish he had more time to shine and that there was more to chew on with respect to his argument. Zeus however is in a similar boat to Antinous where in the first half of the play he was perfect - literally the perfect neutral god-figure who was simply doing his job and obviously not personally swayed one way or another when it came to Odysseus and was maybe having some fun at his expense in Thunderbringer. His violence in God Games then was not only greatly surprising and seemingly out of character, it was also completely unsubstantiated in the story of EPIC itself. Zeus had nothing against Odysseus, he has no particular reason to bar Athena from rescuing him. Likewise, he is the one who offers up the proposal of a game, why would he have a problem with losing it? The reason of 'he doesn't like to lose' doesn't cut it for how extreme his reaction was and it completely undermines what was a genuinely super enjoyable and different take on Zeus in a modern Western-based greek myth inspired piece of media. Absolutely such a tragedy to me.

Of course, to me, the biggest actual crime of adaptation that EPIC's committed with respect to its characters is that we only have about 10 songs left based on Herrans' original outline for the musical and Penelope still has not had a single song or showing or meaningful reference apart from "I am Odysseus and I miss my wife (her name is Penelope)". The Odyssey was a twofold story split between Odysseus vibing on the way back to Ithaca and the political bullfuckery that was awaiting for him when he inevitably returned to Ithaca. The center of that aforementioned political bullfuckery was Penelope and Telemachus. Considering Penelope has been Odysseus' guiding motivation for the entire play, the fact that there has not been a single solid piece of real characterisation that can be attributed to her this late in the story is uh! Criminal actually, and it's the only thing for which I hold some level of genuine disdain over.

In conclusion: I generally quite look forward to people doing adaptations and interpretations of myths and such! I generally think EPIC's done a good job with the adventure and exploration part of the epic but the political and domestic aspect of it really isn't where Herrans shines as a writer and it shows.

[crimeronan]

i'm still fucking thinking about faulkner silt verses i haven't stopped all day. i just keep intermittently replaying parts of the ep and working my way thru the transcript. just now i was trying to explain to rafi how elated i was about everything that went down during this ep and rafi, horrified, was like "BUT I - I DON'T WANT HIM TO BE SUICIDAL????" and i was like "rafi. listen to me. i cannot express enough how much the suicide attempt was POSITIVE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT."

[autumnalfallingleaves]

Hilda Appreciation Week Day Seven: Free Day or Favorite AU(s)

For me, it's my (and hold it down) 'verse, of course!! This AU started with my wondering what Hilda would be like if she retained the ability to turn into a troll, then it spawned a fic, then a series, and now a whole 'verse I love to play around in. I'm still planning to work on it because I still love it so so much, but internship be wild and I'm so tired (and stressed) these days so that's probably not going to happen for a while :(

I decided to include my teen and adult designs for Hilda and Frida, with Hilda's troll forms included, as that's the time frame in which the majority of AU takes place (also ft. Arch-Sorceress Frida) and also included Frankie because he's also a part of the AU! Beloved child :)

reblogs are highly appreciated, and please do not repost my art

[abominable-space-they]

Ace In The Hole (Jokers Wild)

Ch 5

In which Ace learns about family, Magellan chokes on his own venom, Crocodile discovers some previously buried paternal instincts, & Bon Clay is living his very best life