#counteracting transference

[shallowrambles]

I like to harp on attachment theory because it endlessly fascinates me.

But seriously … the splitting that dean does where he’s hot and cold, erratic … you see it in his deepest relationships and especially in the ones where he is the one doing the needing.

It doesn’t manifest for him as readily when he’s able to keep them at arm’s length, is the pure caregiver, or is the donor of the help/the one being needed. (There’s security in that dependence.) He deeply loves the ones he supports or is responsible for, but the minute it crosses over into being someone he needs or can’t bear to say goodbye to, it registers as a threat…even Mary!

But! He also desperately craves for his loved ones to be over-strong and invincible, which puts them in danger and aggravates his base anxiety-neuroticism. Because if they are stronger than him, they could go off into danger. Die. They could let go of his hand. And he’s powerless to do anything about it. It’s also why Cas and Jack are particularly frightening as much as they are soothing. It’s why when Sam is no longer a child, or when Mary is so willful and real and hunts on her own and makes her own decisions and mistakes that it’s …unhinging.

Rowena has some of the same issues with not wanting to be weak “ever again” but also craving a strong protector figure in her life. And being afraid to love because it hurts and love is weakness. (But if you’re strong and I love you, nothing bad will happen to you because you’re invincible. But I want you to protect me, but not put yourself in harm’s way!) These two things are co-existing and creating and unhinged nut jobs… In season 15, she picked *Ketch* and Dean approved of her choice apparently. It’s still so funny to me that he was caught playing matchmaker between them.

—

(8x07)

—

Loved ones he lets in are simultaneously a source of threat and a secure base. There are so many similarities with disorganized and borderline. There is so much therapy surrounding the ability to counteract transference, control the disillusionment that inevitably rears its head once the person integrates the relationships more appropriately and with complexity that comes with them.

[seveneyesoup]

things i should be doing

1. sleeping

2. essay my whole class grade is riding on

things i want to be doing

1. doing a bunch of math to figure out whether a vampire gets to ambient temperature over time or if they don’t, given some measure of heat transfer from drinking blood

[nobodysdaydreams]

More Hatchetverse Theory: Sycamore High and the Timberwolves are connected to the Hatchetmen and the Tree-People

Starkid's Hatchetverse has retriggered my hyperfixation, and by golly if you think I'm not gonna share every unhinged theory...you're wrong. I’ll tag them “#hatchetverse theory” to make it easier. So let's dive in.

One thing I haven't seen anyone talking about is the fact that, based on what we know about canon, Sycamore High School likely shouldn't exist.

Hatchetfield is a "tiny town". There doesn't seem to be a reason for them to have two high schools, especially when Sycamore seems to not even have enough staff and students for most extra curriculars and programs (in TGWDLM, Paul mentions they don't have a theater program).

So why does Sycamore High School exist? Well, one thing I noticed was that SYCAMORE High as well as its mascot, the TIMBERwolves, have tree related pun names. And what a coincidence, trees happened to be big in the hatchetfield universe, particularly when it comes to the hatchetmen and their hatred of the LIB and magic/“the gift” in general. They did plant a forest of magic tree people after all. And, since they hate the LIB so much, they likely wouldn't want their children attending high school at one of the black altar locations, which just so happens to be Hatchetfield High. That gives them a motivation to build an alternative school.

Sounds like a pretty solid theory to me, but then there's also the fact that the residents also seem to have an odd attitude towards Sycamore High. It's not hated by Hatchetfield High with the same level of hatred they give the Clivesdale Chemists, but they still don't like Sycamore, and the students hate the idea of transferring there. Which seems odd. You'd think it would be the other way around since Hatchetfield High is the school with the black altar. Unless being around a black altar makes the students hate Sycamore, and I could probably do a whole different rant on how the LIB's influence is messing with the perceptions and behavior of the people of Hatchetfield, particularly at the altar locations or when someone uses or has used the black book, but maybe I'll save that for later.

However, if you really wanted to take this theory to the extreme, it could be part of the reason why Paul "doesn't like musicals." Musicals and music are the primary way Pokey expands his influence in Hatchetfield, at least in TGWDLM. That might be one of the reasons Sycamore doesn't have a choir or theater program: not just due to lack of students, but strategically to keep Pokey's influence out. Paul went to Sycamore High, which isn't a black altar (and indeed, might even be designed to counteract or resist the LIB), therefore he's more put off by music and musical performances in Hatchetfield, though he doesn't really know why.

I also suspect this isn't the only instance where the name of locations around town have significance. This has already been seen several times, particularly with the black altar locations.

For example:

The Starlight Theater: has a star theme similar to "the Church of the Starry Children"

CCRP (COVEN Communication Research and Power): Literally has the word "Coven" in it.

Lakeside Mall: Used to be the old mill (which would be located near water, also "mall" and "mill" are one letter off).

And trust me, I have my theories about Clivesdale as well, but again, maybe that one is better for another time.

I hope you enjoy Starkid fandom!

[bad-traffic-smp-ideas]

Cursed Life You start with anywhere between 20 - 30 hours; above 20 is green, above 10 is yellow, and above 0 is red. Killing rules of limited life. However, the fun part is that the boogeyman works like a game of hot potato. The victim is transferred the curse. However to, counteract keeping track of the boogey, death messages do not specify victim or perpetrator. Whoever has boogey at the end of the session only loses 3 hours.

Hot potato boogey man!!! AND NO DEATH MESSAGES!!!

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

HOLD ON THAT ONE ANON GAVE ME AN IDEA

So basically, what if the whole reason why Makima is worshipping reader is because she was the first ever person to be *genuinely* kind? Like what if as kids they met, then like four years later they meet again but reader is more mature and is less kind and that like upsets Makima???

If that's the case we already know what the treatment is about to be from her:

The 'be conformed to the image Makima has of you' treatment. But should you have a strong sense of self, you should be able to counteract her ability. Makima's psyche is just interesting to probe at. She wants an equal relationship, something like a family, but she's too far gone to truly have the type of relationship she wants with someone else.

Should you fold to her ability, I think that would crush her even more if you hadn't. It's like a reinforcement that she is going to always be alone. Or perhaps, she was just foolish to think you were the person she was hoping for. That must be it, so she simply has to continue looking for that person. You're just a stepping stone in the right direction of what she is looking for.

But the idea of the reason her worship for you comes from kindness you gave her when she was younger? I like that idea, it gives me Yuno Gasai-vibes.

Like it hasn't been too long since she was taken in by the government, so in spite of her despair she still has hope underneath that that there is someone out there that will treat her kindly. Enter you, a child of one of the devil hunters at the Bureau that happened to stop by because your parent forgot their lunch or something. But since your mom is already out and she plans on getting lunch while on patrol, you give it to Makima instead and you talk while she eats, discussing your mom. It eventually becomes a habit for you to bring her lunch instead, at least until your mother's transfer to another city.

Upsetting as it is for her, you promise that you'll make her lunches again if you're ever lucky to cross paths once again the future. Hell she owes you a lunch or two, you jokingly add. But at the very least, it was fun hanging out while it lasted You take a couple pictures on a polaroid, twice. A copy for yourself and a copy for Makima.

That picture is one of her most important treasures.

[77dekiru]

MHA 415: What Will Eri’s Role Will Be? (Theory)

Disclaimer: This is my own personal theory for what will be happening with Eri, and a decent portion of it will be speculation, but I will be including evidence that supports it as well. I’m unsure if I will be correct in the end, but I still think it’s worth putting out there!

Anyways. Since the cliffhanger from the latest chapter dropped, I have seen the majority of people speculate that Eri will be rewinding Tomura back into Tenko, but at this point, I genuinely don’t see that happening.

((Izuku can’t only save “Tenko” because Tenko and Tomura are the same person. No matter what Izuku, the Vestiges, and All For One think, they are not two separate people. If Izuku wants to save “that crying little boy” then Izuku must do so as Tomura still being Tomura.))

Instead, I think that Eri will have a quirk awakening.

(Quirk awakenings have been shown to happen during times of crisis, and while I don’t think that anything bad will happen to Eri, this is still a crisis situation for her.)

Instead of rewinding time with her quirk, I think that she will accelerate it instead.

Eri has a direct connection to the Quirk Singularity theory, (after Ujiko mentions her in his recording that he left AFO) and she is the character that has been chosen to represent this concept.

This was done for a reason.

The Quirk Singularity theory has been consistently brought up, over and over again throughout the series, and soon we will be reaching the climax of that plot point as the series comes to an end.

One For All has already passed the point of singularity, but we still haven’t seen the climax of that yet. I might just be forgetting something, but I don’t believe that All For One (quirk) has been said to have passed the point of singularity (yet).

It’s only been shown that Tomura’s body has been modified with counteracting the effects of Quirk Singularity in mind…

If Eri tries to use her quirk on Tomura to help Izuku, and she accidentally accelerates time instead, I think that Eri’s quirk will be what finally causes All For One to reach the point of Singularity, and will be what finally merges both One For All and All For One together.

((Not to mention, even if Eri doesn’t have a Quirk Awakening, All For One has already been consistently taking damage due to the transferring of the Vestiges.

Tomura can (probably) counteract the regular effects of her quirk, due to his body modifications being made with the effects of Quirk Singularity in mind.

Rewind will just be what weakens All For One enough for One For All to break through the current barrier that’s between both quirks.))

Anyways. A lot of this is speculation, but now that Eri will be playing an active role in this battle, this is the most likely scenario, in my opinion.

[tumble-tv]

I was looking through your page after finding a post of yours on my explore page. I saw that you suffer from chronic pain and are working as an EMT. That's really cool! But I'm curious, how does that work for you? I imagine an EMT has to move a fair bit.

(I want to clarify that I am in no way saying you can't do it, I am just curious how it works for you. I think it's awesome that you are able to do something like that. I am disabled myself, physically and mentally, so hearing about someone with chronic pain doing a job like that gives me hope for myself)

It's hard, but I do it!

I wear heavy-duty joint braces on my knees and ankles to help with the pain, but I also know what's safe for me to do and what's not. We do move around a lot on scene, but in between calls, I spend my time recovering and preparing for the next one. Of course there's times where we have 5 back to back calls and I don't have that privilege to relax for a few moments, but that just means that u can do it at home later.

I'm a small guy and most of my coworkers are larger than me, so I can leave most of the heavy lifting to them to keep myself safe. I of course help with transferring patients to and from the stretcher, unloading and loading the stretcher into the ambulance, carrying bags and monitors, all of that, but there are also times where all I can do is carry one bag and hold a patients hand depending on the situation.

My hips, knees, shoulders, and ankles like to dislocate on scene, which is an inconvenience, but I just put them back in place and continue with whatever I was doing.

I almost quit a few months ago. My pain has gotten worse and I'm scared of hurting a patient by dropping them, but I'm counteracting that fear by lifting weights and making sure I'm strong enough to reduce the chance of that by a lot.

It's a lot of knowing my limits and taking care of myself. Myself and my crew come before the patient, as awful as that sounds, but that's how it is. I can't take care of my patient if I can't take care of myself.

[introvertedlass]

I am having one serious question now why this one particular blog gets all the info, video and pics regarding ab ?//

Hi friends -💅🏼💕

My question exactly. I don’t see how the blog that gets these pics or info (who happens to be the only one) like she doesn’t see that it’s weird. She thinks she is some big deal that she is trusted with this content. When in fact it tells me that she is being fed info and getting leaks whether it’s in her knowledge or not that she is being used as a pawn. I’m sorry. I have read these past few days in various blogs that she is claiming to have pics of Baptista in MA on the 14th of May and she refuses to share them is very odd and suspicious. Like if she is team real- then why not prove it if she claims to have the proof? She says “I get blamed for everything” which is why she doesn’t share them. But if that’s so, then why even bring it up? It’s causing chaos and a lack of trust and credibility for her.

If she truly does have such pics of Baptista in MA on that date- It’s very suspicious that a person would send it into her blog rather than share it publicly in social media like a normal person would when spotting a celeb. The fact that it’s sent to a specific blog tells me it’s staged and orchestrated. Whether that blog mod sees it or not, it is staged to push a narrative and she is being used in the process to transfer the message. No matter how big or small her blog is, people take and rumors spread across media.

Furthermore, her knowing Evans’ flights and tracking his moves is counteractive to what she claims on her blog. She says she is over the mess and doesn’t care about it, yet she is very involved. A person like this should be questioned and not blindly trusted. At this point she is no different that DM. Take everything with a grain of salt. That blog is not a professional with trustworthy and honest sources. In situations like this, there is always an ulterior motive. Whether the blog mod knows it or not(she could be totally innocent and naively trusting her “sources”) she is still being used.

Welcome back 💅🏼💕

[ewingstan]

I really love this bit, because it helps illustrate a key part of superhuman fights in Worm: fights tend to be dangerous not just because the combatants are dangerous, but because their powers are often unknown and unpredictable. A good portion of the fight scenes in Worm pivot on learning the details of an enemy’s power and figuring out way to counteract it mid-fight. But this passage shows how if you know the ins and outs of an enemy—like, how they can only extend sharp edges—you can figure out how to safely counter them with some preparation and training. If Jack Slash hadn’t had the Slaughterhouse 9000 backing him up, I’m pretty sure Golem might have been able to overwhelm him using this maneuver, even with his secondary power.

This also helps explain why there aren’t a huge amount of direct nemesis relationships like Golem and Jack. If you are constantly at each others throats, it becomes both easy and advantageous to become familiar with each other, and if you’re familiar with each other, it becomes easy for one to overpower the other quickly. No wonder so many villains change towns with regular frequency, why the PRT will transfer heroes to new cities so regularly. We see this in action earlier with Shadow-Stalker—Grue and Shadow were already more dangerous towards each other than the rest of the Undersiders and Wards were because of how their powers interacted and the consistency with which they faced each other. It’s probably one of the factors in why the Undersiders chose Sophia as the Ward to Regent-jack during the PRT heist. And, because the Undersiders were familiar with both her weaknesses and how she fought due to her spats with Brian and Taylor, she was fairly easy to overwhelm and subdue.

Man, this really makes me want to see how a more long-term battle between the Undersiders and the PRT would go. It was already heading in the direction of nemeses specifically counteracting each other, what with Taylor’s more brazen solo assaults on the headquarters using her swarm more ruthlessly to overwhelm the heroes, Kid Win developing the anti-bug drones, and Skitter having an even more direct adversarial relationship with Tagg than any previous PRT official. I’d be excited to see who’d win the prep race in that scenario.

[quirkwizard]

Half-Cold Half-Hot and Radio Waves?

New Quirk Name: Static

This Emitter type Quirk allows the user to form static from around their body, with their right side forming black static and their left side forming white static. The user can fire this static outward, spreading it out over dozens of meters. This static can enhance or weaken electromagnetic activity with anything it comes into contact with. The black static weakens the signals, causing the area covered by it to become a dead zone for signals and hampering electronics. The white static enhances signals, letting it extend the power of these signals and even causing a weak electrical effect on surfaces. The user can create certain weak points in the static, letting them block specific signals while leaving others unaffected. This gives the user a unique tool for support and subterfuge, letting them have total control over communications. They can help transfer signals for their allies, hide a location from radar, restart and overload electronics, disable enemy equipment, extend the range and scope of their own equipment, counteract electricity or magnetism-based Quirks, or just use it to shock people. Though the user is fairly limited in application, making it less than useful in direct combat. Using the Quirk too much on either side can affect the user's senses, with the white static causing their left side to be oversensitive and the black static dulling the senses of their right side.

[agerefandom]

Once Upon A Midnight Dreary

Fandom: Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Characters: adult!Henry Jekyll, regressed!Henry Jekyll, and an appearance from Edward Hyde

Words: 2,860

Summary: One of Henry Jekyll's experiments goes a bit unexpected and causes him to mentally regress to the age of four! What will Hyde have to say about this when he emerges? What chaos will Henry cause as a child?

Warnings: References to murder and claustrophobia: this is set during Dr. Jekyll's self-imposed isolation near the end of the novella. Unsafe scientific practices are a given, and there is some mild cursing as well. References to religion and hell.

For my friend Mikey, with apologies that it took me almost three years to write this story: but I'm glad your request led to a friendship! Sorry I only write you back once a week :P

The night is long, and Henry Jekyll’s eyelids are growing heavy with exhaustion. With a table covered in papers and measurements behind him, he leans over his workstation and carves a small portion of powder off a red crystal that sits on a transfer sheet. Gathering the dust, he carefully pours it into a shallow dish and drops it onto the scales beside him. His hands, Henry notices, are shaking. Whether this is from exhaustion or the extended anxiety of these past weeks, he does not know. But there is no rest from his work until the result had been attained.

What irony, that his fervent dream could become such a vivid nightmare. Henry holds his hands up and watches them tremble, relieved that they are his own familiar slim-fingered hands that are lit by the flickering candle-light. He has those half-shattered memories of different hands, moving under his control: wide-knuckled and dusted with hair, and covered in blood… covered in that poor man’s blood…

Henry does not cover his face, but only through concerted effort. His fingers are spotted with the red dust of the experiment, and the results would be skewed should it come in contact with his face or eyes before the steps were finished.

Instead he takes a deep breath to steady himself and turns to consult one of the papers on the chaotic desk behind him. Fixing the relevant measurement in his mind, he selects the correct weights and places them on the other side of the scale.

The two sides tremble for a moment, then come into balance. It is a sign of how often Henry has been working with this particular substance that he had been able to perfectly carve the amount required for the next step of the process. Any feeling of success he might have found is lost to the bone-deep exhaustion of guilt and too many sleepless nights.

He washes his hands in the basin near the stairs, dries them well, and transfers the measure of powder into a test tube, careful not to spill. This mixture is intentionally calculated to hopefully counteract the cruelty and evil that Hyde is a manifestation of: while none of this was trodden territory, Henry is desperate to find a cure. He has tried tinctures made to cancel out the original experiment, but he still finds himself changing into Hyde with no discernable trigger.

Now he is focusing on potentially bringing out a purely positive side of himself: an angel to balance the devil, as it were. It may be that the two mixtures would cancel each other out, leaving him safe from the danger of his- or Hyde’s- actions. Or this might lead to a secondary manifestation, one that could bring good things to the world in equal measure to Hyde’s evil. In his more lucid moments, Henry fears that he might lose himself entirely to these extremes: but then he reminds himself of the danger to society he has created, and knows he must take the risk.

Henry’s hands move nearly on autopilot, mixing the new experiment with the other fluids and powders he’s already prepared. At the end, he is left with a nearly purple-tinged solution, which fizzes against the glass.

He’s tested so many of these that he’s almost inured to the sour scent. Nevertheless, he takes a moment to breathe and centre himself before he forces himself to take the beaker and swallow its contents.

It burns in a familiar way, like acid on his tongue and down his throat. Nothing like the fire of alcohol: nothing like anything Henry had ever tasted before this fateful experiment began. Somewhere in his stomach, the burn dissipates as a tingling sensation spreads outwards from his core. Henry finds himself closing his eyes to focus on defining the feeling, a scientist to the end.

The tingling comes up his throat, crawling along his skin like invisible threads brushing against him, then cover his face and work up to the top of his head, and Henry

Is on the floor.

Henry opens his eyes, and finds the room around him dim. He’s lying down on a hard stone floor. Around him are papers and half-familiar equipment, like he’s in some kind of laboratory.

Curious, Henry starts to get to his feet, and immediately finds his body unfamiliar. Distracted from the scientific artifacts, he sits back on his heels and holds his hands up in front of him. It’s hard to say exactly what is wrong with them: too blocky? Too veiny? Too lined? Whatever it is, Henry is certain that these can’t be his hands: they look far too grown-up, somehow.

And Henry is only four.

Finally pushing himself to his feet, he looks down at himself and sees the clothes of an adult. They seem dirty, but definitely the long sleeves and pants that his parents would never put him in unless it was Sunday: Henry is very bad at keeping his clothes clean, which upsets his mother. Luckily, it seems that these ones have already been through a lot, so Henry doesn’t need to feel guilty about wiping his dusty hands on his trousers.

Henry runs a hand through his hair and finds it shorter than his mother usually cuts it, and greasier than he’s used to. Wrinkling his nose at the feeling, he wipes his fingers again over the leg of his trousers, then embarks to explore.

The room is full of marvellous equipment and strange mixtures, and Henry keeps his hands at his sides as he peers at them. It would probably upset their owner were he to touch them.

Once he grows bored of staring at glassware, Henry tries the door and finds it locked. Confused, he pushes the mail slot open and bends down to peer through it, which emphasizes the size of the body he’s found himself in. Through the little metal slot, he can see a dark garden, and the lights of a manor house beyond. Is he in some kind of shed?

Letting the slot close, Henry straightens up (his spine hurts a bit from bending) and notices another door, more hidden in the shadows of a bookshelf on the other side of the room. A little bit scared at the idea of being trapped in this room, Henry rushes over to the new door, barely avoiding tripping over his newly oversized feet.

Thankfully, twisting this knob lets him out of the little room with the science equipment and the fireplace. Henry finds himself in an odd little theatre, of all places!

He is at the top of one of two aisles, which lead down through the seats to a circular stage at the bottom of the room. Henry runs down the steps, curious about what he will find. This body is getting a little more familiar, and things don’t feel quite as scary as he might expect them to. Like there’s a quiet part of him that knows this space quite well, even though he can’t reach it at the moment.

And there’s little flashes of knowledge, like the pop of a photographer’s bulb. He knows the last three stairs will creak when he steps on them: he knows that the wheeled metal table to one side of the stage belonged to the person who lived here before. He doesn’t know why a person would need a metal table in a theatre, though.

Henry comes down into the circular stage, floored with stone and grout with an odd little drain in the centre of the space. He turns to the theatre of empty seats and thumbs his nose at an imaginary audience, then laughs and darts away to duck behind the table. He drags the table into the centre, the wheels rattling as they run over the stones.  

The sound delights him, so he hits his hands against the metal top of the table until they sting with the impacts and his ears are ringing with the sound, like a metal drum filling the space. With a whoop of pure childish abandon, Henry runs up the stairs on the other side and continues his exploration through the second door.  

There are two dusty empty closets, a door to a cellar that he shudders and closes, and a long tunnel that seems to go underground, but it’s lit by gas lights and Henry’s curiosity pushes him into it. At the end of the tunnel is another locked door. Henry finds a key on the ground, and picks it up excitedly, but it’s flattened and bent and won’t fit in the lock. Henry tosses it back into the corner of the hallway, frowning.

This means that there’s no way out of this structure, with both the doors locked and no keys in sight. Did someone trap him here? Or… did he trap himself?

Something about the thought makes his head hurt, and he can almost hear words at the edge of his mind, here and not-here in a dizzying contradiction.

Unsettled, Henry pushes the entire issue away and wanders back through the halls and the theatre to the original room. This is the only room in the building that isn’t chilly, kept warmer by a fire that burns in the fireplace. There’s a plush chair as well, which seems worn.

Henry grabs the poker and rummages in the fire a bit, happy with the sparks that fly upwards whenever he knocks over a log. Eventually, he takes another piece of firewood from the rack and adds it on top, mesmerized by the way the flames start to creep upwards and blacken the sides.

Once the log is well and truly aflame, Henry gets bored and stands up. He considers trying to kick the door, or breaking a window, but again that pressure at his temples starts aching, and he turns his attention to the glassware.

Now that Henry knows there are no adults nearby, no voices about to be raised in reproach, he visits the equipment with a smile and curious fingers. He pokes all of the powders, picks up various test tubes to sniff their contents, and plays with the metal weights on the scale for a few minutes, then uses the scale to catapult one of the smaller weights up in the air. 

The metal weight comes down on the table, scattering equipment and breaking one of the empty beakers. Henry winces, then laughs. Destruction is a pleasure of the young. Remembering his mother’s harsh words, he doesn’t touch the glass shards, but carefully picks the weight out of the debris and puts it back on the scale.

Just as the plush chair is beginning to look nice for a fireside nap, Henry is overtaken by a sudden pain in the back of his neck, creeping up his spine. Trying to reach backwards, his body seizes for a moment, and then everything turns sideways and inside out and there is a moment of pure disorientation before Edward Hyde regains his footing.

Hyde only takes a moment to adjust before he starts laughing. He remembers the previous hour in a sharpness and clarity that he usually doesn’t have for the stupid doctor’s memories, but they are significantly more interesting than Jekyll’s boring day-to-day. The thought of Henry himself destroying his scientific equipment in a childish curiosity makes Hyde smile, even once he’s finished with his chuckling.

Hyde returns to the table and does the same thing that the child had done, slamming a hand onto the opposite side of the scale to send the small weight hurtling upwards. This time, it lands on the floor with a sharp cracking sound. Hyde retrieves the weight and smooths a finger over the small fissure it left in the stone.

He doesn’t feel the same childish joy in the action, but there is a certain pleasure to it that he acknowledges. The destruction is incidental: what Henry wanted was to see his actions have consequences. A child’s need to feel more powerful than they really were.

Hyde has no need for such play. He returns the weight to the table and knocks one of the test-tubes off, just to cause Jekyll a bit of trouble cleaning it. He’s perfectly aware of the fact that Jekyll’s experiments are their best chance at survival, and chooses one that doesn’t have anything important in it.

Hyde paces into the theatre, leaving the broken glassware where it lies. Being in the laboratory is nothing but frustrating. He could make a version of Jekyll’s concoction, but has no mind for the finer points of its refinement. Measurements and careful paperwork, the work of a man who seeks to put numbers on everything.

Hyde hasn’t bothered to change out of Jekyll’s clothes, and they hang loose around him. As long as he isn’t going out (which Jekyll has made certain of, damn him), he doesn’t care what he wears: their size difference isn’t so great that the sleeves get in his way once he rolls them up, and the belt is easily adjusted.

Walking past the empty seats, Hyde sits on the table in the middle of the operating theatre. It’s larger to him than it was to Henry, and his feet dangle above the ground. Hyde stares out at the missing audience, feeling the familiar anger burning in his stomach, directionless and bitter. He had been made to break the cage that Jekyll had walked into willingly, and now he had been imprisoned again: this time inside a laboratory instead of the back of Jekyll’s mind.

Hyde was not made to sit and brood. He was a creature of action, and there was nothing to do here in this dusty theatre. He envied the simple curiosity of the younger self that Jekyll had inadvertently set free. To be entertained by the simple sound of a metal table and a few hallways to explore. How little he must have seen at that age.

Hyde was harder to please, and getting ever-more demanding. He was hungry for experience, and all he received were the same four walls pressing closer. His unfulfilled appetite manifested in this frustration that warmed his stomach and made his fingers itch for something to pin and scratch and strangle.

Springing to his feet, Hyde paced the floor of the operating theatre, a well-trodden path. Damn Jekyll and his slow-moving work, damn his appearance for how it struck all who saw him and ensured his capture if he broke free of this oppressive space. If there was a way forward, Hyde’s anger was too blinding to allow him to see it.

Not wanting to take out further anger on Jekyll’s glassware, Hyde kicked the metal table across the room into the chairs in the front row. They were attached to the floor and held up remarkably well, but the resultant crash did draw a smile to Hyde’s lips. Humming one of his favourite drinking songs, he retrieved the table and pushed it back into the shadows, and returned up to the laboratory.

The warmth of the fire was almost soothing in this room. Hyde tossed two more logs on the fire and stretched himself out on the heated stone in front of the blaze. Jekyll preferred to sleep on the chair, curled into himself like he wanted to disappear, waking with sore muscles begging for their familiar bed. Hyde preferred the heat of the fireplace at his back, like a noon sun beating down.

Surrendering himself to the lazy pleasure of warmth and fatigue, Hyde drifted on the edge of his own thoughts. What would happen if he ingested the same mixture that Jekyll had? Would there be a child version of Hyde himself, or was there any distinction at all?

Being a child didn’t sound very entertaining to Hyde, but he also remembered how it had felt for Henry, how interesting the world had felt, how sharp the pleasure of exploring something that might be dangerous. He remembered similar feelings in his own time, venturing deeper into the dark areas of London, one hand on his cane and the other on his moneypurse.

Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. To be a child for a while again.

Hyde yawned widely, showing his teeth to the empty room. Reaching up, he dragged one of the chair cushions down and flipped over to let the fire warm his front. Jekyll’s shirt gaped open on him, allowing the heat easy access to his chest. Hyde tugged it further open, tearing off one of the buttons in the process. He flicked the mother-of-pearl button into the fire and watched it blacken with soot.

Maybe he should throw all of his clothes in the fire, just to watch how they burned. Wouldn’t Jekyll appreciate the irony? Naked like Adam in the garden, before the invention of sin. Hyde smiled to himself as he continued staring into the flames, waiting for his time to run out.

Perhaps Jekyll would save them both. Perhaps they were doomed to the eternal flames. Either way, Hyde was content to lie here and enjoy the warmth for the time he had.

[anthromimicry]

okay, so i believe it's time to talk about what kind of powers misao possesses. let me start off by saying that she is by no means invincible and/or invulnerable: so, she can be defeated in combat, of course. i just wanted to affirm that with y'all because she does have an enhanced healing factor. but unlike a regenerative healing factor, which heals a lot of things pretty much automatically, it does still take a good amount of time for her to heal. i'd say it's just a bit faster than a human's ability to heal, and so she can not do things like regrow limbs / reattach her head.

BUT to counteract her lack of a more proficient healing ability... misao and all jorōgumo can produce very sharp, silk-like threads and manipulate them to their liking to attack other's + create constructs out of these silk threads that can be used as weapons. and thus, one could argue that she has a certain 'advantage' over humans since this is a long-range attack, which would mean only they would have to get closer to her in combat if they didn't have any long-range weapons themselves. being a spider in actuality, misao can also make webbing that comes from within her.

another, and her last ability, is that she has venom available at her disposal much like a real spider that targets the central nervous system / is a potent neurotoxin ( in which she would transfer directly into someone through a bite ) buttt the thing is is that she will often not use this method of killing, and/or seriously harming someone because of how long it takes for her body to regenerate the venom. thus, most of the time, misao will only use it if she is in a very dire situation where she has to defend herself or someone she cares about.

and as a result, those who are in combat with her don't really have to worry about her using this ability unless she's genuinely on death's door or something of that nature. so yeah; i hoped this gave you all a little more insight as to what exactly she can do with her powers as a jorōgumo.

[fidelixcorde]

Taylor's (Main) Hogwarts Verse: Detailed

(Creative liberties, long post ahead)

Taylor is the third child and last born daughter of Catherine Khalil and Alessio Borelli; her elder fraternal twin sisters Heather and Ruth are a good six years older than her, and she's about five minutes older than her own fraternal twin, Tyler. All four of the children are direct descendants of Isolt Sayre, the founder of Ilvemorny, through one of her own twin daughters, on Alessio's side of the family, and Alessio died of dragon pox when Taylor and Tyler were only four years old.

Being born in America, the Borellis were content to stay, allowing Heather and Ruth to attend Ilvermorny all their school years and graduate. But after Taylor and Tyler completed their first year, Catherine was offered a job by the British Ministry of Magic and the pay was good, so she packed her kids all the way to the UK and had their papers transferred before second year; the twins were with the first years in their Sorting, with Taylor going to Slytherin and Tyler going to Hufflepuff.

Taylor has vague Seer abilities in which she had visions while she's dreaming, but often cannot recall explicit details in her dreams unless there's danger approaching. So she has nightmares about big yellow eyes after the Chamber of Secrets is opened, and she reveals she's a Parselmouth the same time Harry Potter does, resulting in the school regarding the two of them with heavy suspicion. It's also how she befriends the Golden Trio and becomes outcasted by many of her Housemates. Despite being a true Slytherin descendant, Taylor is not regarded very highly by many in her House, but she doesn't care. If anything, she often beats up people who try to be bigoted around her and she always gets away with it.

Tyler is one of the Petrified victims that year, and so Taylor travels with Ron and Harry -- and Lockhart, briefly -- into the Chamber of Secrets itself in order to help control the basilisk long enough to rescue Ginny Weasley. She helps to stab the Diary with the basilisk fang, and she earns friendships across the rest of the school for her efforts.

In third year, Taylor becomes fascinated with the concept of Animagi, and she works that entire year to become one herself. During her efforts, she helps Hermione in trying to help Hagrid save Buckbeak's life, as well as trying to keep Harry safe from Sirius Black, not realizing that he's an innocent man. She also figures out quickly that Remus Lupin is a werewolf, and keeps his secret, often leaving high quality chocolate outside of his office after full moons. Before the end of the year, she succeeds in becoming an Animagus; her form is a little black fox with white spots all over her back. She reveals this when she helps the Trio try to save Sirius from the dementors, and she chased after Peter Pettigrew when he turns into a rat to try and escape them, unable to catch him, but she does manage to cause some damage before the dementors cause her to faint. No one else knows that she's an Animagus, and she remains unregistered.

Fourth year, Taylor is one of Harry's supporters after he's named a Fourth Champion in the Triwizard Tournament, even making new buttons to counteract the Potter Stinks ones. She's even Harry's date to the Yule Ball, even if she was a last resort option for him. She helps Hermione capture Rita Skeeter in the woman's beetle Animagus form, and she even keeps the jar on her during the summer, only releasing her once she's sure Rita is too traumatized to retaliate.

Fifth year, Catherine, Heather and Ruth have officially joined the Order of the Phoenix, so the Taylor and Tyler are at Grimmauld Place when Harry's brought there. They become even closer to the Weasleys, and Taylor is named the girl prefect in Slytherin House, which annoys her since she has to work with Draco Malfoy. For every time Draco abuses their position to abuse others, she willingly docks points from Slytherin in retaliation, until he knocks it off. She gets on Umbridge's nerves so much that she earns a scar on the back of her hand through those "detentions" that says I Must Not Challenge Authority. She wears the scars like a badge of honor, even joining Dumbledore's Army; the Patronus she produces during these lessons is a thestral, one of the rarest forms a Patronus can take, while Tyler's takes the form of a sparrow. She has horrendous nightmares during the year, various visions coming through, and at least three days before Arthur Weasley is attacked by Nagini, Taylor begs Ron to write to his father and ask him to not "take unnecessary risks". Due to this warning, Arthur's injuries are less severe. At the end of the year, Taylor and Tyler join Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna to the Ministry of Magic to try and save Sirius Black, something Taylor succeeds in doing by pushing him out of the way of Bellatrix Lestrange's curse. She also chases after Harry when he chases Bellatrix and battles Tom Riddle one on one for a brief time before she's almost fatally injured and rushed to the Hospital Wing after the Battle concludes. Her feelings for Harry have started to turn romantic (she's in denial).

Sixth year, things are quieter, though Taylor's nightmares persist. Her Amortentia smells like Harry -- treacle tart, with the Quidditch pitch, fresh air, leather gloves and broom handle polish -- and she becomes quietly obsessed with wanting to know what Harry smelled, though she never asks. She also notices Draco becoming sicker over the year, and tries to corner him about what he's doing, but he always shakes her off. It's during this year that she either gets close enough to Harry that they start dating, or they become very close, but he tells her at the end of the year that he can't risk putting her in danger and doesn't want to start anything lest Riddle figure out that Harry has a more severe weakness, meaning his feelings for Taylor. When Dumbledore dies, Taylor's the only one who doesn't care because she hated the guy, and she only attends the funeral for Harry's sake. She also starts looking into Horcruxes on her own.

Seventh year, the Borellis are invited to Bill and Fleur's wedding. Taylor and Harry dance and share a kiss, before the Death Eaters attack and the guests either flee or fight back. Taylor and Tyler manage to flee before they're captured, and Catherine, Heather and Ruth are tortured for information on Harry's whereabouts. As a pureblooded family, they're not killed, especially since Catherine's from a powerful ancient family of her own back in Lebanon; it's during this year that Riddle finds out about his blood ties to the Borelli siblings, and he instructs his Death Eaters to not spill their blood, imagining that they can be brought around to "the right ideas beheld by their noble ancestor".

Tyler is the only one to return to Hogwarts for their seventh year, when attendance for all students becomes mandatory. Taylor instead flees, and she begins hunting Death Eaters on her own, wearing a cloak that covers all identifying features, and a mask covering her face. She monikers herself The Banshee, as she whistles before every attack on Death Eaters and Riddle supporters, leaving a bloodbath in her wake. She's slippery enough to not get caught, and she knows better than to contact anyone in the Order, but she reverently listens to her radio every night for Potterwatch, waiting for news on Harry and feeling relieved every time there isn't any. Heather and Ruth also flee by Christmas, as Catherine refuses to go into hiding unless she knows where Tyler is, and then the entire family goes underground. They all return for the Battle of Hogwarts, and Heather dies to protect her siblings during the fight. Thanks to Taylor killing as many enemies as possible, Riddle's forces have dwindled to less impressive numbers, and she cheats by giving as many allies as possible Felix Felicis right before the fight, so the Fallen Defenders are also dwindled; she's still devastated by Heather's death, even if they were never very close.

Taylor and Harry marry a few years after the wars' end, and they have several children. Harry becomes the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, while Taylor and Hermione Granger band together to create a magical primary school called the Magical Academy; it's to give a learning space for all magical children, including Muggleborns and halfbloods who only live in the Muggle world, being taught alongside their magical world raised peers, in order to stop the bigotry that the pureblood ideology upheld.

[blackthornwren]

Hey, I'm looking for info on something specific and was wondering if you had any thoughts on where I could start. I'm trying to figure out a ritual to help alleviate the fatigue and if possible pain associated with chronic illnesses from a tradcraft perspective. Is there anything in particular that comes to mind? (Already on meds for the pain btw, but they don't do enough. I'm willing to try herbal remedies too, but that still won't help much with the fatigue and brain fog)

So, I don't have a specific pre-made ritual that comes to mind and I'm unable to share my own workings. I can recommend a few books, specifically look to the Carmina Gadelica, Vol. II - which can be found here - or if you're able to acquire it, Lecouteux's 'Traditional Magic Spells for Protection and Healing', or 'Healing Threads' by Mary Beith. The bad news is that when looking for healing folk charms is that you're likely never going to find one that is exactly tailored to your needs. The good news is that through process of experimentation, you may be able to tweak them to suit your needs or use the format and methods found in folk magic to craft your own charms, blessings, or rites based on your specific requirements. Folk charms in general (speaking through a Celtic regional lens here) tend to be an informative template for crafting your own workings. Specifically in healing charms there are recurring elements of repetition, storytelling narratives, transference, and the use of simple items such as cords, wax, rocks, etc. Repetition: For example, a charm might include a countdown - there's a spell to relieve a skin condition that goes "Tetter, tetter, thou has nine sisters, god bless the flesh and preserve thy bone, perish thee tetter in the name of the father, the son, and the holy ghost. Tetter, tetter, thou hast eight sisters..." This repeats, each time the number diminishing, until at last "thou hast no sisters". Storytelling: The best example of this is often found in folk magic involving Catholic Saints. The Charm of the Sprain in the Carmina runs as such - "Bride went out in the morning early, with a pair of horses; one broke his leg, with much ado, that was apart, she put bone to bone, she put flesh to flesh, she put sinew to sinew, she put vein to vein; as she healed that, may I heal this." Transference: Many folk charms for healing involve transferring the injury or illness to an inanimate object. This is found often in manuscripts, journals, texts about superstitions, folk customs, and popular antiquities. If an individual were ill or injured, the disease or the pain might be eased by perhaps tying a cord around the part of the body that was suffering (headache - a length of black silk tied round the head, sore throat - cord around the throat, etc) and used in conjunction with spoken prayers or charms. Rocks could be rubbed on the afflicted appendage or generally on the body to take the illness from the patient and place it into the stones which would then be disposed of in a stream. Food was also used for this - bread that had been marked with a cross or a written charm and/or prayed over. This method could be used to cure anything from dog bites to fever. Because you have stated that you are already on pain medication , I am unwilling to suggest any herbal remedies - the reason for this is that herbs can often interact with medications you are taking, including counteracting them, and they can create problems far worse than what you're currently experiencing. If you are still interested in trying herbal remedies, it would be best to discuss it with your doctor as they will be better able to predict how any herbal supplements will interact with your current medications and your medical history - age, weight, potential genetic health issues, pre-existing conditions; these are all major factors in determining how someone will react to new chemicals being introduced into their system. Thank you for your ask, I do hope this has been of some use to you and please make sure to take care of yourself.

[dollelujah]

Im transferring germinated seeds to dirt today and I'm annoyed cause then I have to scrub the SHIT out of my hands afterwards, then lotion them up to counteract the warm water and soap so they don't dry out, then wait for the lotion to absorb before I can even think of touching my dolls or sewing like I have so much to do and only so much time to do it in 😭

[starlitangels]

Temperature Spikes

I missed my hot head, okay? I don’t generate a lot of body heat (bad circulation for the win! /s) and wanted to daydream about how warm this boi must be 1.6k words A lil non-canon HBS spice and tooth-rottingly sweet fluff for you on this fine day

—

Damien was hot. In every sense of the word. To his credit, he tried to keep his heat to himself, but there were times when I got him so riled that he forgot. Or maybe he just chose to let it slip out of his conscious control. Wouldn’t surprise me either way.

During the winter, he let his hold on his heat slip more—but I knew it was for my benefit. Because I tended to cling to him like a particularly stubborn spiky piece of Velcro. He’d scoff and roll his eyes a lot; but every time I snuggled up close to him, he’d wrap an unconscious arm around me and rest his cheek against my head or shoulder—whichever was nearer. He liked to joke that I had the circulation of a sloth made of molasses and that was why I was always so cold. I told him I wasn’t cold, he was just hot.

During the summer, like now, he tried to keep his heat as internal as possible so that the heat he radiated didn’t completely counteract the A/C.

But I decided to change that. School was out for summer break and neither of us had signed up for any summer semester courses. For the afternoon, we didn’t really have anything else better to do.

I sat down beside him on the couch, scooting close. He looked up from the paperwork he’d been reading—more bureaucratic bunk to get the humanborn support club set up before Fall Semester could start—to meet my eyes as I pressed my leg and side firmly against his. “Hi,” he said.

I smiled. “Hi.”

“You looking to get up to something, Freelancer?”

I shrugged. “Just curious if you’d be... interested in taking a little break. With me. Maybe in our room or something.” I gave him that knowing smirk that I always gave him. The one that I knew got him going.

The air around us got just a touch warmer. My smirk widened.

Damien snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’re trying to get me riled.” He leaned closer to me, dropping his voice to a whisper. “It’s not gonna work.”

I bit my tongue between my teeth. “You sure?” I whispered back, lowering my eyelids just a little, hooding them in a smolder.

The temperature spiked significantly—and quickly returned to normal as he absorbed it back into himself. But we’d been together long enough—and I was plenty close enough—that I recognized the thin, faint sheen of sweat budding on his forehead from absorbing the heat. 

He straightened up to how he’d been sitting before. “I have to get this done,” he said decisively.

I set my hand on his thigh—plenty high enough to be suggestive and not at all innocent. “Okay.” I squeezed his thigh as I stood up, letting my fingertips trail down his leg as long as I could with the motion of standing.

With that, I wandered—slowly and deliberately—toward our bedroom.

I heard him sigh as I opened our door and moved to tug my shirt off. “You brat,” he muttered. Not quiet enough for me not to hear. He probably wanted me to hear anyway.

The sofa creaked. I took two steps into our room.

Damien tackled me onto the bed, grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head. I laughed. He was scowling at me. “You like teasing me, don’t you?”

I gasped sarcastically. “Nooo! What gave it away?” I put my tongue between my teeth as I grinned.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You are such a nightmare.”

“Aaand... that’s a bad thing?”

“You’re lucky I love you, Freelancer.”

“Or what?”

“Or I wouldn’t put up with your teasing.” He bent down. “Now shut up and kiss me. Your teasing worked.”

“I can tell,” I whispered as he got close. Our bedroom felt like we’d left the furnace on in July.

He smirked. “Shut up.”

“Mm. Make me.”

He kissed me. Transferred both of my wrists into one of his hands so his other one could roam. Slipping under my shirt. I arched my back as he started to tug it upward, making it easier on him.

He pulled back from the kiss for a moment. His eyes were hooded as he gazed down at me, hot and heavy. His irises were amber—a base of brown with the warm goldenrod of a campfire. His pupils were dilated and his lips were parted. “You’re still a brat,” he said softly.

“You like it,” I replied, arching up just a little.

His lips crashed into mine again. “Unfortunately, I do,” he agreed.

A pair of half-healed love bites—one on the crest of his left shoulder, the other on his right collarbone—stood stark against his bronze skin as he bent back up to examine me.

“Damn, you’re incredible,” he whispered.

“Even when I’m sweaty?” I teased.

A muscle in his jaw flickered—and the heat in the room subsided a little. A single bead of sweat slid down his temple and gathered into that warm, wavy black hair of his. “Even then,” he replied.

He bent down, hand tightening around my wrists, letting his other one continue its exploration of my bare torso.

I moaned as his fingers found a sensitive spot that sent a thrill through my entire body. I heard him snicker. Felt his breath against my skin. “Like that?” he whispered.

“Mmhmm,” I breathed.

“Want more?”

“Yes.”

He smiled. And the temperature in the room spiked again.

—

Sweat gleamed on my skin and Damien’s as he fell onto the bed beside me, holding me to his chest. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

I nodded. “I’m good. How are you feeling?”

His eyes were still half-closed and he didn’t quite look me in the eye. “Really good. You?”

“Really good,” I agreed. “But...” I leaned up a little, bracing myself on one elbow. “It’s hot in here.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Damien said with a smirk. The heat didn’t bother him, despite the fact that he was sweating. I knew why he was sweating as hard as I was. He’d gotten hotter than he’d externalized, and keeping that heat inside had made him sweat.

 I narrowed my eyes and raised a hand at the window. A thrill of power ran down my Threads as I called on my powers. The Psychokinesis to open the window was easy and didn’t require a lot of effort.

And the cool breeze that came in was a welcome relief.

I flopped back down, bracing my head on one arm, smiling at Damien.

“What’s with that moon-eyed look, Freelancer?”

I smiled. “I just love you. You make me happy. And I’m lucky to have you.”

Damien’s eyes flicked away and refused to meet mine again.

“Hey,” I said softly, reaching out and brushing his jaw with the backs of my fingers. “I mean it.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m just... you know me. I’m still not used to this.”

“What? Having a partner?”

“Well, yeah, that. But, also... I’m not used to having someone be... soft with me.” His eyebrows twitched closer together. “Sure. I’ll go with that word.” He made a face. “Soft might not be the right word but I’ll use it.” He closed his eyes and shook his head—a little wiggle against the pillows. “I’m not used to having someone treat me like I’m worth knowing.”

I cupped his face in my hand. “You are worth knowing, Damien. I am so grateful I got the chance to get to know you. I’m grateful every day that we got assigned to be partners for our Psychokinesis class. That we became friends, and then more. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He closed his eyes and leaned into my hand. “What did I do to deserve someone like you in my life?”

“Be a decent human being who’s patient enough to put up with me being a nightmarish menace all the time?” I teased.

He snorted. “Sure. We can go with that,” he said.

“Or it could be the fact that you’re kind, underneath it all. You’re kind and you’re passionate and you’re so smart—you’re one of the smartest people I know. You work so hard and you always get back up when you feel beaten down.”

I could tell my words embarrassed him because he was fidgeting the entire time I spoke. He really wasn’t used to someone being gentle with him—something that probably should have surprised me more than it did. We’d known each other for almost two years—and he still fidgeted when I was friendly or flirty with him. He still got flustered (not that he’d use that word or admit it) when I gave him unexpected kisses or snuck up behind him while he was working on something to hug him.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

I leaned forward and pecked a kiss to the tip of his nose. “You’re welcome, Damien.”

He pulled me close for a proper kiss, resting his hand on my cheek. “I love you, Freelancer.”

“I love you too.”

Another long, slow, hot, lingering kiss.

Damien smiled when he pulled away. “Shower?”

“Sounds great.”

I laughed as the temperature around him increased again. 

“Shut up,” he complained as he swung himself off the bed.

“Neverrr!” I retorted with a laugh, hopping up myself and chasing him into our bathroom.