the last one is almost hypnotizing

Story 215: Cultural Exchange

The human steps onto the station from her shuttle, and walks into the scanner.  It flashes - no weapons.  I pity her, though there’s nothing I can do for her.  By tomorrow she will be a slave the same as me; the Gaunvans collect ambassadors like trophies.
“Hello there!  Amanda Thorn, ambassador for the Empire of Humanity.  You’re a Ixian, correct?”
Mimicking human body language, I nod my head.  "That’s correct.  Ix Malasan.  It is an honor to meet you.“
She smiles, reminding me again that she has somehow modified herself to breathe atmosphere suited to the Gaunvans rather than wear a respirator like myself.  Other than that she appears to be a standard human, something I am led to believe is less and less common as they pursue the bizarre compulsion humans have to alter their bodies.  Changing hair color, adding pigments to their skins in patterns and pictures, growing long tails or ears that mimic other species from their planet.  No other known species tampers with their bodies like this.
“Not to be undiplomatic, she says, "but the Gaunvans enslaved your people.  Why are you here?”
“We… reached a mutually beneficial agreement.  We would have lost in combat and been eliminated, so we chose to preserve what we could of our culture.  The Gaunvans are not naturally skilled at diplomacy, so they bring me along to assist and to show that peace can be made.”
She nods.  "Understood.  I can respect that choice.  How much freedom do you have, personally?“
Smart of her, to start planning for her future. "A fair amount.  I have free reign on the ship when we are in transit.  At the homeworld I have reasonably comfortable quarters.”
“Have you ever met the Empress, or…?”
“Oh, no.  No, while on the homeworld I am confined to my chambers - but they’re quite spacious.”
“Shame.  Okay, plan ‘A’ then.  Let’s get this over with.”

Despite my attempt at encouraging diplomacy, the Gaunvan commander starts with threats.  I don’t know why I bother.  He looms over the human, chitinous plates almost black in the dim light.  His pod of six is posted around the room, for show more than for actual security since she followed orders and came alone and unarmed.  "Failure to surrender will bring the full wrath of our army upon you.  Humanity will be crushed, and wiped from the universe.“
To her credit, she looks very calm.  "We live in a post-scarcity society.  Bloody conquest just seems silly, doesn’t it?”
“It is for the glory of Gaun!”
“Well, I’m not prepared to get into a religious debate with you,” she says, “since I doubt there’s anything I can do to change your mind.  Since you’re committed to this course of action, what are you willing to offer if we surrender?”
Now he goes back on script.  Maybe I am getting through to him a little?  He talks about the benefits of being enslaved, mainly the protections for up to twelve designated culturally historical sites.  They’ve been mostly good on their word on my homeworld, though they did use the area just outside of the Hahhn Memorial as a waste dump.

She nods as she listens.  There was a part of me that was worried she would argue, because the humans are somewhat childlike.  They don’t understand the horrors of war.  Certainly they fought in the past, but the last time they had to battle was more than two of their generations ago, so these ones have all grown up coddled and soft.  They play games with each other instead, silly competitions.  They make art, and play pretend, and alter their bodies for fun.  They don’t have weapons anymore, and wouldn’t know how to use them if they did.
“Well then,” ambassador Thorn says, “this is about what I expected.  On behalf of humanity, I would like to formally reject this offer.”
Oh no.  Foolish humans.  The galaxy will miss your innocence.  The commander makes an excited clicking noise, looking forward to combat.  He reaches a blade-tipped hand towards ambassador Thorn, but hesitates as every device in the room bleats out an alert - we’ve all lost communications with the outside.

Like one of the dances humans do, she gracefully pivots around while taking his hand.  She ends up close to him and places her other arm against his thorax, then… oh gods. Gods, what… she’s ripped his arm off.  It’s not possible.  The commander is clearly thinking the same thing, staring in mute shock at his dripping limb.
“I’d like to extend a counter-offer,” she says, and flips the arm around before jamming the bladed end into his neck.  The warriors around the room are fidgeting, uncertain.  They haven’t been told to attack, and don’t want to dishonor their commander by intervening in a fight with such a small creature.  She’s still holding the commander’s severed arm in his neck, but she rotates and heaves, lifting him off the ground with it for a moment… and then his head pops off, landing squarely on the conference table.  She allows the corpse to slide to the ground, and straightens her clothes as if they aren’t covered in ichor.

I don’t understand.

The warriors, now with no orders at all, finally act.  She smiles as they come for her, I suppose because she has done her duty to send this powerful message of resistance.  She can die in peace.  Or… no… She’s killing them.  She’s smiling because this is fun for her.  Though they’re partly killing themselves; if there had been two of them, prepared, strategic, they might have prevailed.  Watching six panicked fighters get in each other’s way while trying to stop a smaller, faster, and somehow impossibly stronger foe is almost hypnotic.  At least one is killed by the stab of a friendly lance due to pure confusion.  It’s over faster than I would have thought possible, severed limbs strewn across the room.  I’ve got some fluids splashed across my clothing.  Only one yet lives, and he is retreating.  She seems to be allowing it.

She follows behind, holding a lance.  The wounded and scared warrior scurries down the hallway towards his ship, looking back behind him as he goes.  She’s just… walking.  Calm.  And for some reason I’m following.  The last Gaunvan reaches the airlock and the second he enters his code she throws the lance - throws it! - and spears him.
“Come on, we’re stealing their ship.”  She says it like this is the most normal thing in the world.
“There are thousands more on board!  Thousands!  Almost all warrior caste!”
She smiles again, and keeps walking.  I see errors on the screens that we pass, messages indicating communications have been lost.  They can’t tell anyone what is happening here.  Even the communicators within the ship are on nodes rather than being wired, so the warriors at one end of the vessel won’t be able to coordinate with the other end.  Do they even know they’ve been boarded?

We enter the bridge after she kills a handful of other guards with ease.  They’re too shocked by her presence to act in time.  Once the door are sealed and she is working on the control systems she starts talking to me again.
“Well, you know, we do like to be prepared.”
“But you… you ripped his arm off.”
“Yeah, that was super satisfying.”  She looks at me appraisingly.  "Oh, come on.  Is it really that surprising?  You knew we were into changing ourselves, right?  Being strong enough to pop an overgrown bug’s forelimb off isn’t rocket science.“
"Your people are so peaceful…”
“Oh, sure, most of them.  But we did that, too.  Tweaked ourselves over the years to decrease aggression and some of our tribalistic tendencies, increase empathy… all stuff that can be undone if needed.  Though for a good cause even the nicest of us can squish a bug or two.”
“You bond with Ry'ling devourers!”
“Those are the big fuzzy guys that look like cats, yeah?  Those guys are adorable!  But… look, liking some things that could kill us doesn’t mean we’ll sit back and get enslaved.  We didn’t put up with it well when we enslaved each other, and we certainly aren’t going to go for it now that we’re… finally… on the same page about slavery being unacceptable.  It was, uh, a longer time than we like to admit before the last hold-outs were convinced of that one.”

I can feel the ship un-dock.  We’re moving.  "What about all the warriors on board?  They’ll break through the doors eventually!“
"Not according to this control panel here.  Take a look.”
It says there’s no atmosphere in the rest of the ship.  Life signs are negative on all but two of the warriors, presumably the only ones that got to their suits in time.  She disabled all the safety measures, somehow.  She just killed… I check the life signs readout again to confirm the number… three thousand, six hundred, and fourteen soldiers.  Wait, how is it tracking that unless… “Are communications back up?”
“Yeah, I’m calling some friends.  The military is right around the corner, so to speak.”
“But Earth doesn’t have a standing military.”
She laughs.  Not just a little bit.  She’s actually doubled over for a moment, unable to catch her breath.  "Sweet Jeebus, you guys actually fell for that?  No standing military.  Have you read about us at all?“

Three ships appear seemingly out of nowhere, and one docks with the Gaunvan vessel.  Once the atmosphere is restored we head to the airlock to meet them, and I’m surprised by an entire platoon of Gaunvan warriors.  Speaking English.
"Okay boys, send your last goodbyes!  This is in all likelihood a one way mission.  Commander Thorn!  It is an honor to see you again, and might I say you look exquisite drenched in the blood of your enemies!”
She bows to him, blushing, and then salutes the Gaunvans.  Or… humans?  Can they change themselves this drastically?
“You’ve got two holed up in here somewhere.  Bridge is clear, have the techs bring the new brain on board.”
“New brain?”
She looks at me like she’s forgotten that I’m here, and then turns back to the others.  "Men, this is our new friend Ix Malasan who has just been liberated from his captivity.  He’s going to be helping with our intel.  Malasan, yeah, a new brain for the ship.  Once this vessel is cleaned up and back in service with a new crew we’ll be able to take it over whenever we want even if all of our boys get killed.  We cooked up a really sadistic AI for it.“
"But how do you know the protocols?  This was your first contact with the Gaunvans, they’ve never lost a ship anywhere near here!”
“No?  There wasn’t a mining colony disaster two years ago?”
“But that was just an accident… and you weren’t even involved in the war yet… and…”

The faux-Gaunvans have finished boarding.  The one that was talking to them before puts a bladed claw on ambassador - commander - Thorn’s shoulder.  "You coming with?“
"Naw.  Orders said I could only come if they allow ambassadors near extremely high value targets.  Malasan here says they don’t, so I need to wait for my next mission back on Earth.”
“It would have been nice having you with us, Thorn.  Well, maybe we’ll see each other again.  Suicide mission or not, I think I’ve decided to live through it.”
“Bold choice,” she says, and kisses him next to his lower mandibles.
He nods at me, then turns back to his men. “Okay everyone, we are now officially on the job.  And what is that job?”
In unison, they start chanting.


For a moment I nearly feel pity for the Gaunvans.  Nearly.  Commander Thorn leads me off of the ship, and I start thinking about what useful information I can provide the ‘harmless’ humans.  Fuck shit up, indeed.

Part 1 | next >>
Heaven Sent index

Even from a distance, the villa looked enormous. Shouyou could see it perched on the hill from the time he set out from the temple, gleaming white under the sun during the day, and lit up by fires shining within its walls when he stopped at an inn for the night.

He had always seen it, of course, from the time he’d been small, allowed to play outside the temple in the dirt with the other children. The Centurion’s Villa, the owner of the land they lived on. For that privilege, they were taxed, though not an unfair amount. Every month, the temple sent an acolyte to deliver the payment to the villa, as a sign of respect to the one who lived there.

For years, one of the priests had been the one to make the trip, but he had twisted his ankle two nights previous. In his stead, the elders had selected Shouyou to go, because he was young and had enough energy for the trek.

They were concerned about his manners and how he would present himself to the villa on the hill, but after much lecturing, he was sent off, to fulfill their obligation and return. It had taken him nearly two days to reach the villa, but on the eve of the second, he’d finally arrived, as the sky grew dusky and purple.

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The Morning After

As promised.

Requested by @goingoutofmymind and @mylittledarlin and several anons

‘Sequel’ to DTR- here

The first things Jon heard were her soft breathing, the lap of water against the ship, and the cries of a few lone gulls wheeling overhead. 

Awareness came slowly; it had been so long since he’d woken up naked next to a woman. But more than that, there was a part of him that hated to be roused from sleep just yet. He didn’t want to be reminded of his responsibilities; he only wanted her. 

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Bloody Kisses- Chapter 1

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word Count: 3106

Warnings: None for this chapter…Ivar and You are playing a dangerous game

AN: Here is the series you all very so crazy about so I expect some feedback, please!

Originally posted by inthenameofodin

Brilliant eyes narrowed in concentration as she surveyed the table, the piles of books and notes not what she was seeking. She gnawed her lower lip, thinking. There was a reference she needed, a passage she’d read that might cast light on her current research, but it wasn’t in the collection beside her. A large book, heavy and old. Red leather? The title escaped her, but she thought she remembered the shelf where she’d found it before.

Rising with her usual unconscious grace, she moved to the stacks, dim illumination plucking highlights from her hair. Damn! Just my luck. How likely is it that two people would be interested in the same dusty old tome? She leaned against the shelves, trying to remember what the reference had said. No joy; I need that book. A student stomped by, scowling at the world, overloaded backpack like a camel’s hump swaying a beat behind his steps. She leaned back to let him pass, smiling kindly, not that she expected him to notice. He seemed oblivious to kindness. He passed her with half an inch to spare, but the bookcase was slightly wider. His pack hit with a thud, knocking the poorly balanced top shelf awry. She looked toward the noise, but saw nothing to concern her as she grinned; the student hadn’t even paused to glance back.

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Reggie x Reader: The Best Woman (Part III)



ALSO, this story is heavily influenced by the movie, “Love, Rosie” in fact I will be using THE WHOLE WEDDING SPEECH in this chapter.

Very sorry for the late update we went on a short vacation and my dumbass forgot my hardrive

Plot: The one where everything that mattered remained unsaid.

Originally posted by flyngdream

When you thought that Reggie was distracted enough not to see you leave, you left.

You walked to the confusing hallways of the hotel that you were staying in and managed to call an Uber despite your drunken haze.

You sighed in relief when you finally reached the front door of the hotel, where you agreed to meet your ride back home. You realized this was probably the last time you were going to see Reggie and you didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye.

Well, it’s not like you were running for best friend of the year anyway so if you were going to be a shitty best friend you might as well go big.

You see the thing about dying and being broken hearted is how much death seems like the better option. Because, at least, with death you know you can get some well deserved rest after the grand finale but with being broken hearted? It feels like consciously stabbing yourself over and over again hoping the one person who can help you will look your way and save the day.

They usually never really do.

You wanted to control at least one part of your life, one last time. You wanted to control your death; you wanted to choose how and when you will go. And that’s exactly what you will do as soon as you get your packed backs and get on a one way ticket straight to Riverdale and into the little cave you loved so much.

“Leaving so soon?”

Your body likes to remind you very much that you were still alive by beating twice as fast when you heard that gruff voice.

“Reg! Jesus, you scared me!” You laughed, placing a hand in your chest. “What are you—why are you here?”

“Could ask you the same. I thought the best men are the ones who usually stays late and cleans up the mess.”

“Good thing I’m the best woman then.”
Both of you managed a small laugh but then he suddenly looked at you from head to toe and when he reached your eyes you striked a small pose and fluttered your eyelashes. “Like what you see, Mantle?”

He let out a laugh as he took your right hand and spun you around. “You’re always a sight for my eyes, sunshine.”

You placed your free hand on his shoulders his hands immediately locking on your waist as you danced to the imaginary song only the two of you heard. “You charmer.”

He smirked. You placed your head on his chest, trying to memorize his hypnotizing scent and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat one last time. “Your shitty reception was making me barf so I had to go.”

“For your information, sunshine, that party caused me half a million.”

“Just tell me the name of your party organizer and I’ll take care of him so there will never be a second victim.”

Another laugh. You felt a kiss at the top of your head and you almost spat everything out. You were never used in lying to him but you had to learn.

“I have a flight to catch.” You admitted, breathing out the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

He hummed, and the rumble it emitted in his chest felt so familiar – so much like home you could almost cry. “Where?”

You looked up at him and he stared at you. God, you wanted to kiss him, just say ‘fuck it’ and just grab his neck and just get a taste of the little heaven in front of you.

Three hours too late. 


Reggie bit his lips – staring at you a second too long before he smiled.

“Okay.” He kissed my forehead. “Do me a favor and tell Pop’s I said  hi.”

You watched as his eyes looked past you and went behind you, to the car you have booked. You gave him one last glance before caving and kissing him in his cheeks, just close enough to graze the side of his lips.

“Will do, my love.”

You were this close to crying so you slowly pushed yourself off him and you knew that you in that exact moment, you were already dead. “You go in now. Congratulations, Reggie. I’m so happy for you.”

He squeezed your hands tighter and kissed the back of it. “I’ll see you when you come back okay?”

Another chill in your spine, another guilt in your heart. 

“Yeah, I‘ll  … I’ll keep in touch.”

Another lie in your lips.

He seemed to notice something was off but obviously decided to ignore it as he nodded and started walking away.

You watched him place two hands in his pocket and just as he was about to reach the front door and disappear from your view your will broke.


He looked way too fast but not fast enough because he barely had the time to prepare for you when you decided to jump into his arms. You hid your face as much as possible as the tears started falling in your face.

“I …” you hugged him tighter as he did the same, although confused. “In another life,” you whispered as you felt his hands run up and down you’re back trying to soothe you.

“In another life, ask me out to prom, okay?”

Reggie scowled, remembering how you didn’t go to prom because you were too busy sleuthing with Jughead and Betty to even look for a date much less a dress. He remembered a huge fight because you almost got shot that night and Reggie only heard about from your mother days later because you didn’t want him to worry as if that wasn’t his job. He also remembered feeling bad because if only he had asked you out, not too stuck up and cautious of his reputation back in high school, you would’ve been safe.

“Will do, my love,” he smiled, not bothering to ask the sudden and uncharacteristically strange request.

And you wondered if you were going to hell for causing that smile to fall in the next few hours.

Heaven Latin

alright because i’m a giant fUCKIN nerd who has taken latin for 5 years, when i read @essiecorking‘s “Heaven Sent,” a kagehina fic set in ancient rome, i was yelling for a while, okay? i was so excited to read something in a field i had been studying. i went a little overboard and decided to translate their dialogues into latin for the first part of it.

thank you @esselley and @reallycorking so much for your wonderful art and story!! i’ve loved you both for quite a while now and i’m so excited whenever i see you guys on my dash or hear you’re about to do something incredible.

warning: do not, under any circumstances, put any of this latin into google translate. we know how bad it is with modern languages. when i tried it out just for laughs, what it came up with was absolutely not what i had translated at all. other than that, happy reading!!!

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Nothing Like Us (M)

Genre: angst, fluff a bit of smut, in that order
Word count: 4526
Description: It was a love no one would dare to doubt, so it was even harder to pick yourself up when his words struck you like lightning out of a clear sky.
Warnings: Mature themes, non-graphic smut, mentions of possibly triggering topics.
Author’s note: Yes I got the idea for title while listening to Jungkook’s cover. I also listened to Homme’s Dilemma while writing, since it fit the theme quite well. I was (and still am) super inspired to write for Hobi, so this came out. I’m personally satisfied, so I hope you will enjoy this as well. I was really deliberating whether to put an M on this one, since there’s no explicit smut in there, but then I thought that it isn’t exactly innocent either so I put it there to be safe. ^^
P.S. I actually cried at one point while writing this. Angst might be my thing. Sad. :D

Standing there in your hallway, staring at the front door that just shut seconds ago, it was nothing like you imagined it would be. 

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Skipper/Kowalski in Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa

“I find it pretty and somewhat hypnotic.”
“That too, sir.”

The Best Kind Of Friends Chapter 2

Chat Noir finds himself falling for Alya, who loves Marinette, who is just confused. Relationship shenanigans ensue.

Chapter 1 | | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5Ao3

This chapter is very slightly nsfw, but still definitely within the T rating. 

Chapter 2: Adrien is a confused, desperate dork.

Adrien was embarrassed when he saw Alya the next day at school. It was always weird interacting with his friends as Chat Noir, but he had gotten used to hanging out with Alya like that. He enjoyed Alya’s company, but he pretty much never got a chance to hang out with her just by themselves when they were at school. That was why he came back after those first interviews. She was just really fun to hang out with.

But after last night, he couldn’t help but blush when he saw her.

He knew she was just joking around with the talk of superhero threesomes. She joked about things like that all the time. It was just what she did.

But when a super pretty girl says that she wants to have a threesome with you and your longtime crush, you pay attention to that. It was perfectly reasonable to dwell on it and imagine it while taking a shower. It was also perfectly understandable that he would feel awkward when he saw her again.

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Hypnotist Posters (Again!)

I’ve done this once before, but there are so many interesting old hypnotist posters around I couldn’t resist showing off some more I’ve come across.

I covered the Flints in my previous post but I wanted to show this one off. I actually unironically love this poster as it reminds me of Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s works due to the floral pattern and the lush skin tone used on Miss Flint. 

What I have found out since the last installment was that Miss Flint was heavily advertised as a solo performer, getting her own posters and other things. According to one source I found, she was famed for her dress collection and women would attend her shows, just to see what dress she was wearing that night!

Also, she had the cutest nickname a hypnotist has ever had. Seriously, “The Little Hypnotic Subeam” is just fantastic and would actually make her stand out amongst her contemporaries who went for much more formal and authoritarian titles.

I think this poster is from the 1890s. At least that is the date I see linked to this poster when it is mentioned and the art style sort of fits that date.

Obviously, the first thing that draws your attention is Kennedy and his pose. Where a lot of hypnotists went for a more intimidating or solid pose, Kennedy seems rather fancy-free.

Also, it’s nice to see the moon from Majora’s Mask getting work. This was one of it’s earlier appearances while it was still young and fresh faced. The people on the moon are pretty cute, I like the woman in the middle, I mean it takes a lot of effort to be having so much fun you almost fall off the moon. This poster seems to fit in with a tradition that saw magicians hanging out with various magical beings on their posters. Seriously, the sheer number of posters that feature magicians just chilling with Satan is pretty mind blowing.

If I could sum this poster up in one sound, it would be never ending screams. 

Now, I can’t find much about “The Amazing Ormond” but I do wonder if this is Ormond McGill, better known as Dr. Zomb. He wrote the book “Encyclopedia of Genuine Stage Hypnotism” which is still considered to be the bible of stage hypnosis. 

This poster is honestly terrifying. I’m not sure if it’s partially due to the reproduction, old paper stock with a black background is notorious for its inability to scan well. But the black eyes mixed with the uplighting give this a seriously creepy vibe, Ormond’s face having an almost uncanny valley look to it.  

But, I can’t deny it worked, I’m not able to go through my folder of hypnosis posters without this one catching my eye. In fact, one of the main reasons I am writing this post is so I can delete this image from my hard drive. 

I don’t know why, but this poster reminds me of a perfume ad. I’m not sure if it’s the color palette or Miss Brandon’s slightly wistful look. 

Joan Brandon is pretty famous in magic circles for being the first televised female magician. She was famous for combing her magic with orchestra music (played by her own orchestra) and was very well known for her signature trick, a magic cocktail bar (a variation on the Think-A-Drink trick.) 

In hypnosis circles, she is most known for her books, The Art of Hypnotism, Successful Hypnotism, The Science of Self-Hypnosis and Help Yourself Thru Hypnotism and Self Hypnosis which are all still good reads even to this day. 

The Art Of Hypnotism is also known for its rather amusing photographic illustrations. It’s easy to find online but quite often turns up for a few dollars on eBay or in second-hand bookstores and I thoroughly recommend it. 

This poster is one of those I see around a lot and only recently bothered to look into the history of. It’s from 1966 and I always thought it was from later on. This poster looks just so very 60s I really had it down as a later parody of the style as opposed to actually just being of that era. 

It actually took me a long time to find out even the most basic things about this guy but Merlin (real name William Joseph Rawle) was from Australia and was Australia’s oldest performing hypnotist.

I want to zoom into the text under Merlin for a moment, as it is rather glorious. 

It really is a throwback to older posters to have a description of the acts performed front and center, but compared to some of the older hypnosis posters (which promised utterly insane things) this seems rather restrained. In fact, these are now considered stock hypnotist tricks.  

What makes me chuckle is the onion eating trick. It’s done all the time but it always interests me to see which fruit is used as the replacement taste. In the UK it always tended to be an apple, and I’ve seen orange used a bit in the US. I wonder if you could do a chart of “onion taste replacement fruits” arranged by geography. 

Being the oldest performing hypnotist, Merlin has several other posters over the years. 

This one focuses more on his mind reading as opposed to his hypnotism, but I utterly love the design. It has this almost 3D effect which makes it look like the poster has a few actual physical layers, but I do suspect it might be the issue with scanning black ink rearing it’s ugly head once more.  

While the last one was pretty joyous this one is practically metal, with its skulls and very industrial images in the crystal ball.

 This poster seems very old school compared to the other two, mostly due to how text-heavy it is. But unlike some posters, the claims all seem pretty normal by today’s standards. The only one that sticks out to me is the one about treating children for nervous complaints while they sleep. All the methods I have seen for this involve just standing and whispering to your child while they sleep because nothing helps the nerves more than an adult looming over your bed whispering at you in the deepest, darkest night. 

Virgil and Julie were a big magic act in the 1950s and 1960s taking shows containing a few hundred illusions around the world. 

Hypnotism played a part but it was nowhere near the focus of the show, but this poster is something to behold, it really is a mish-mash of everything that was hip in the era. The B-movie Esq UFO and the almost eerie-cutie spacewoman flying around it. 

Julie’s costume is very similar to that of the Jeannie from the Tv series I Dream Of Jeannie which debuted in 1965 and went a long way to putting the “harem” costume we know today into the public consciousness.

I want to end on this poster which became quite the rabbit hole for me and I’m frankly not 100% sure I’m correct on all of it. 

I had a real good laugh when I saw the Reveer because he looks like every stereotype of a magician and hero cowboy got thrown into a blender. The turban and the Lone Ranger mask just look so silly together. 

I also found it funny that his name was close to that of Reveen, the hypnotist famous for his performances in Canada who would have been performing at around this time.

Then I got to digging and found I could find hardly anything on Reveer, apart from some poster seller listing him as Tony Cole, a magician who apparently worked sharpshooting into his magic act which does explain the Lone Ranger mask.

Tony Cole also apparently had posters of his own, but all I can find of them is the following: 

And no, Tumblr isn’t going weird, that is the only image I can find of one of his posters. I did, however, turn up a news article on him from 1977 from “The Independent Record from Helena, Montana” advertising a show he was going to do. 

As you can see the resembelence is there so I presume this is the same guy.

As an aside, you might realize this picture is totally and utterly unreadable. The place I found it had the plain text of the article, unfortunately, it was made by OCR copying the document and the results are an utter mess.

Some highlights include: 

To be able to make someone do what another person desires carl brln^a gleam .into the eyes of ambitious people. 

This impression oF hypnotism’s power is one of the mast fallacious and dangerous, according to Cole, who when pressed will admit bis lull name is Tony Colo, a hypnotist, magician ami entertainer.

In between all the weird OCR errors, we can see a recurring theme that Tony Cole doesn’t like to use his first name, which means he is the Cole from the latter poster and would explain why he would make a stage character.

M PEOPLE L'NDEH HYPNOSIS won t do anything they wouldn’t do normally, “ ttie Canadian-born entertainer said In an Interview In Helena. 

Cole recalled ihnl a Groat Falls A A W manager had been hypnotized and was told he was Elvis Presley. The man began gyrating and singing, dulng spills and performing in the late-lfloOs style (bat endeared Presley lo the teen set. Cole said. He added that the shy A & W manager would not normally rarry 1 don’t think a person has to put someone in an embarrassing situation or use anything smutty or not in clean family fun in order to entertain. 

I’m sure we can all agree that Elvis’ late-LfloOs style was by far his best style and one that really became his signature. And all of the teen girls were into Elvis for his pet bat. 

He tries, to Tony Cole, a hypnotist, magician and all-around entertainer correct any misconceptions about hypnotism, anri he hypnotizes willing members of the audience. 

He tries to himself? Is that some artsy way of saying he tries to be himself?

On his stage, people might shiver In Ihc arctic temperatures he has described or away In Lhc breeze like palm trees. 

And his chauffeur and helper, Wayne Adolph, emphatically added In his gravelly voice. "It’s real.”

I don’t know why that bit made me laugh so hard, but it really did. I’m not sure if it’s the fact the guy is called his “helper” or just the fact he decided to just randomly join the interview. 

MORE AND MORE PEOPLE are believing in Ihr authenticity of hypnosis, contends Cole, who has certificates from at least three schools of hypnotism and who has been licensed to leach hypnotism Physicians, dentists, psychiatrists, pollliuUnH, ministers, entertainers, teachers, lawyers, salesmen, atnletes and pilots are among those, who are studying or using hypnosis, Cole said. 

Some beneficial uses for which hypnosis Is being sLudled include easing childbirth, treating alcoholism, slopping smokers from Indulging and treating empbysemn and asthma victims to breathe properly. 

All of these arc medical uses or hypnosis and “the practitioner must by certified as a hypnolechuician and receive a doctor’s prescribed order before he hypnotizes someone. Cole said. 

Yes, everyone remember to become certified as a hypnolechuician, that is a very important qualification to have. 

But ask him about himself and the answers dissolve in shrugs and evasiveness. He doesn’t like to use his first name. 

Again, some more information that works with the idea that Cole had a few side characters he played sometimes. 

 He makes good money at hypnotism and his oilier entertainments as he travels across the country and into Canada. 

However, I do not wish to see Mr. Cole’s oilier entertainments.

I know I have a talent but that talent should he scared. ]f pc0pte |,ave a latent and don’t share it they re ripping it elf.“ 

And your guess is as good as mine on this last one. 

So there we have it, The Great Reveer, hypnotist and fiction all rolled into one oddly costumed package. I wish I could find more on this as there seems to be an interesting story in here, but unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any records I can find.

However, if this taught us anything, it’s that if I get bored of hypnosis, I can just turn this into a bad OCR blog. 

A Teacher of sorts (Pt 5)

Pt 1

Mark stood outside of his bedroom door for what felt like an eternity.

“Mark, come play. We could deal you in!” Amy suggested. 

As she spoke, Wilford shuffled the Cards Against Humanity deck as if he had done so his entire life.

Signe and Bim both watched, hypnotized by the movement.  The cards danced and spun between his fingers and onto the table into a neat pile.

“No. I need to make sure he does this right,” Mark said anxiously.  He ran his fingers along his jaw, scratching his beard.  He leaned up against the wall.

The last thing Mark wanted was for Sean to make an attempt to summon one, but he leapt up at the opportunity almost immediately. Mark could barely stop him.

The room had not made a sound for hours.

Amy went back to the table. The game began.

Signe wasn’t too worried.  She was convinced that Sean wouldn’t actually do it.  With what Amy had told her, it sounded like a lot of energy that he didn’t have.

When he thought no one was looking, Mark creaked his bedroom door open and tiptoed inside, attempting not to disturb Sean.

The minute the door opened, the Host’s neck jerked upward.  Amy put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?” She asked him.

“The Host is fine,” He put his hand up to his temple, “He just has a headache.  The Host advises that the group continue with their game as he tells them he is using the restroom.” The Host stood up, walking towards the room.

“Do you want me to keep playing for us?” Bim asked.

“The Host wishes to inform Bim Trimmer that the Host physically can not play, and that he should continue the game on his own.” The Host would have rolled his eyes.

“Okay… Just know that if you need a team mate when you get back I’m here!” Bim smiled.

The Host exited the room, heading towards Mark’s bedroom.

Mark saw Sean sitting on the center of his bed, cross legged.  He crept across the carpet and sat in the same position on the floor.

Sean’s eyes were closed, but his eyebrows were furrowed.  He had been trying really hard to access what Mark was talking about.

Sean’s mind was wandering the Void; and for the first time he felt as if he had complete control. 

Until he was grabbed by the shoulders.

anonymous asked:

Do you.. do Mafia!Dazai? If you do.. *coughs* can I have a *coughcough* hot and steamy kiss and sexy scenario of him? *coughs* please? /pretty/ please?

Of course, my dear anon! (Let the record show that I am a straight up hoe for Mafia!Dazai ok like it’s lit)

I was honestly so happy about all of the Mafia!Nerd requests bc I love writing this stuff… Also I have absolutely no idea where this came from I just have some kind of “making out in cars” kink or smth and so here we are??? Anyways I hope u enjoy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) {also I got a few rq’s for a Mafia!Dazai nsfw scenario so I’m planning to make a sort of part deux of this that’s full of even more sin zoo wee mama I can’t wait}

It’s quiet. Eerily quiet. Darkness floods the inside of the parked car loaned by the Mafia itself, its sleek black appearance almost camouflaging it within the night’s cover. The moonlight streaming in through the windshield seems to be the only source of light around, given that the dimmed off-yellow light of the near-deserted parking lot you’re parked in the far corner of almost appears to waver in its magnificent full glow. The smell of cigarette smoke and after-hints of alcohol permeate your nostrils, their scents seeming almost too strong under the effects of your currently heightened senses.

It’s intoxicating. It’s invigorating. It’s one of the many reasons you thank your lucky stars that you ended up in the Mafia to begin with. It’s the little unexpected detours and invitations for late night drives. It’s the almost empty parking lots at 1:00 A.M. It’s the way he’s so impatient. It’s the way he knows what he wants, and how he’ll go out of his way to get it. It’s the way he looks at you from the driver’s seat, street lights illuminating his dark, mischief-filled irises. The way he proclaims, with unwavering sincerity that he “absolutely just can’t wait any longer”. It’s his overbearing aura that sends your senses overboard each and every single time you’re alone. It’s him.

Your heart is racing. It’s not like you’ve never done this before, far from it, it’s just that every single time it happens, it almost seems even more hypnotizing and overwhelming than the last time. More surreal. As it starts out, slow and tantalizing, his upper body is twisted in the driver’s seat, long torso bent over the console between the two of you as you lean in to meet his reach. His long black coat has been long forgotten where it now lies in the backseat, tossed over carelessly because the growing heat in the small enclosed space was becoming just too much. His arms are wrapped around your torso; one hungrily roams underneath your shirt, clawing at your skin teasingly while the other roams more downcast- as far down as it can reach with you sitting in the passenger seat, that is. His right elbow is digging into the leather of the console with such pressure that it’s almost certain permanent marks will be left. Neither party cares. Oh, it’s too good, the way his smooth lips claim yours hungrily, the light taste of alcohol acting almost as a stimulant. His invading tongue asserts its dominance over the roof of your mouth over and over againbecause you simply can’t seem to figure out when to give in. But he liked that about you. It made him need to have you that much more.

Your fingers thread themselves through the executive’s hair roughly, tugging at the dark fistfuls just as your other hand tugs at his tie, bringing him as close as he could possibly get with the console in between the two of you. You take pride in how much you manage to quickly dishevel the otherwise sharply presented man, making short work of the buttons at the top of his white dress shirt. His teeth tug at your bottom lip roughly, almost drawing blood. It’s enough to make you gasp in surprise, opening your mouth wide enough for the man with the wide smirk on his face to show you just who is in charge once again. A muffled, almost strained moan hisses from your throat at the feeling of his tongue dancing with yours, and you pull him closer almost absentmindedly. But because this is his show, he has to be the one to make the bigger move. So, without missing a single beat to the kiss, he’s suddenly rearranging the whole game.

His seat quickly adjusted back to make enough room, he’s soon pulling you over into the driver’s seat so that you’re straddling his lap, his fast pace feeling pleasantly dizzying. He smirks triumphantly, pulling your form close to his with a firm grip. You are his, and he’ll be having his way with you how he sees fit. His hands now free to explore almost every inch of your body, he’s attacking your lips once again, but with even more fire and desperation than before. It becomes clear to you that this can and probably will get out of hand very soon, but do you care? Hungry lips suddenly peppering your neck and collarbone with unexpected attention affirms that the answer is most definitely a resounding “hell no”.

Time seems to be moving so quickly, yet so slowly- his hands traveling below your waistband, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your neck’s most sensitive spots, his breath in your ears, husky and deep, almost like a growl. It’s too much to take. Your head is thrown back in overwhelming pleasure, fully exposing your neck to the executive’s onslaught. You can’t hold it back any longer, or you’re certain you’ll burst. “Ahhh-


The mood is suddenly and swiftly torn to shreds at the sound of an annoyed, shrill voice paired with a harsh tapping on the passenger side window. Groaning, you try desperately to catch your breath while reluctantly maneuvering back into your own seat, taking note of the heavily fogged windows that produce a distorted image of the outside world you had long forgotten while trapped inside your little fantasy. Eyes narrowed, you wipe some of the condensation away from the glass only to gaze upon a very disgruntled looking older woman and her husband standing just a few feet away from your car. She’s angrily shouting something and pointing down the road, but her exact words you can’t quite make out. Sighing, you look down at the patch of moonlight on the floorboard as you quickly fix your clothing.

“Tsk. What a drag. …Perhaps it’s time to take this somewhere else?”

The disheveled executive, already straightening his tie and buttoning his dress shirt, seems to light up at the way your voice rises an octave with your question. He simply chuckles darkly, putting his seat back into position and turning the key in the ignition, roaring the engine back to life. As the little dark car pulls out onto the road, you feel a bubbling sort of excitement rise in your stomach, coupled with an all too real sense of unfinished business. It’s made very apparent that your mafioso boyfriend feels the same way by the low, lustful rumble of his voice. He looks over to the passenger side, the corners of his mouth curled up into a wicked grin.

“I hadn’t even gotten the chance to really get started. That was merely a small precursor to how badly I’m going to ravish you tonight, my love.”

Glitch In The Matrix

Submitted by:

Length: Medium

I’m obsessed with these stories since I have experienced it myself. I’m not sure if what happened to me is a “glitch” but I don’t know what else to call it.

When I was a kid, probably 6 or 7, the grocery store we shopped at had a pharmacy in it. Above the pharmacy there were three giant photos on the wall that you could see from anywhere in the store. One was a mother holding her baby, one was pills on a counter, and the last one was a woman with a stapler in her cheek. This is probably the weirdest thing to have on a wall anywhere. I still don’t know what it had to do with a pharmacy. There was something about it that was almost hypnotizing to me.

Anyways, I was obsessed with this picture. I would always stare at it anytime we went shopping. I would get in trouble for being so zoned out. One day after shopping, my very stupid 6/7-year old self decided to find out how a stapler could just go in skin like that. I went to my dad’s office, got his stapler, and put a stapler right in my bottom lip. I remember doing it so vividly, I feel the pain in my lip whenever i talk about it. Obviously, my mom rushed me to the hospital. My dad left work early to meet us there. The doctors removed it, life went on. It wasn’t ever really spoke of again.

I’m 18 now, I still have a little scar on my lip. One day after looking in the mirror, I brought it up to my mom. I asked her if it was kind of funny to her now. She looked at me like I was a ghost. She had absolutely no memory of it. Later that night, I asked my dad. He had no clue what I was talking about either. I showed both of them the scar on my lip, they swore that they had no idea. To try to refresh their memory, I told them about the photo of the woman at the grocery store with the stapler in her cheek. They didn’t know what I was talking about. They told me that the place we shopped when I was a kid didn’t have a pharmacy.

I know that it happened, I even have a scar to prove it. I don’t understand how, not just one, but both of my parents have absolutely no memory of their child literally stapling herself. A “glitch in the matrix” is the only way I could describe it.

Credits to:

Hallelujah Money

A lot of people in the Gorillaz fandom are talking about this, and I figured I may as well throw my own opinion into this mess. 

Generally, the reception of this song hasn’t been too brilliant. Most Gorillaz fans like them for their more upbeat and groovy tracks, see Feel Good Inc and Clint Eastwood. This track here is more of a Rhinestone Eyes or Cloud of Unknowing, slower, darker and generally with a more sombre tone. This right away sets it apart from the sort of songs your general pop audience would enjoy. Given the song’s meaning (A reflection on the political state of the world and a certain Donald Drumpf), writing a happy energetic song would simply not fit the mood. 

Another thing Damon Albarn and the rest of Gorillaz did is choose to write the song in the 6/4 time signature, a decision I wholly support. I’ve seen a lot of people complaining about how they aren’t able to find any rhythm in the song, and I’d bet dollars to donuts this is why. I definitely think time signatures other than 4/4 should be explored and used more, they’re more fun and can easily make something sound fresh and exciting, say Timothy Armstrong’s ‘Digits’, which features verses in 7/4, a personal favourite time signature of mine. 

Now let’s briefly touch on the chord progression. I love it. It’s good. The synths are good, the bass is good, the choirs and everything blend together brilliantly. A lot of people are scolding it for not obeying music theory, others are saying it follows it to closely and that theory is dead. Don’t know what those last people are talking about. Really, this song is a combination of two styles, an old fashioned, traditional vocal style (as seen in Benjamin Clementine’s conversational style of talking, just floating about) and Damon Albarn’s more modernised set-structure-for-each-bar vocals providing a nice memorable chorus.

I, for one, am a big fan of the track’s hallucinatory nature, as it sways back and forth in a hypnotic way. It’s almost as if the track is trying to soothe the listener, saying that while there doesn’t look like there’s much hope, things will eventually turn out okay. Not tomorrow, not the day after that. But eventually. One thing I like about the abrupt ending is that it shows that things may still end sooner than we think… 

I COULD go on about the lyrics, but I think I’ve said enough as is. I’ll just say that they’re pretty dang depressing and powerful.




Notes: A postmortem message to Luffy, from Ace.

You can’t see me anymore, Luffy.  It’s been years since we last spoke, years since we last clasped hands.  In that time you’ve grown so strong.  I’m proud.  I’m so damn proud of you, as your brother and fellow pirate.  No matter what happens, I want you to know that.  You’re the best little brother I could’ve asked for.

Keep reading

14 Things You Should Know Before Dating a Bisexual Woman

1. Yes, she’s really bisexual.
You wouldn’t keep asking a straight woman you were dating if she was “really” straight, right? Yeah, it’s just as weird for you to do that to a bisexual woman.

2. No, she’s not going to cheat on you just because she’s bisexual.
That’d be like saying someone was going to cheat on you because all blondes cheat. Do you know how many monogamous blondes there are in the world? So many monogamous blondes! Same with bisexuals.

3. She’s not going through a phase.
So many people act like bisexuality is this weigh station between gay and straight, but it’s not. She was probably born bisexual and will probably always be bisexual. Rest assured, if she likes you, she likes you.

4. She’s not attracted to everyone she sees.
Because I don’t just date one gender, people act like I’m attracted to every single person in every room, but in reality, I am usually attracted to zero people in most rooms. I’m a picky broad, man.

5. If she ends up with one gender, that doesn’t mean she’s not still attracted to multiple genders.
If a bisexual woman marries a man, she’s still bisexual. If she marries a woman, still bisexual. She didn’t finally, at long last, pick a side. She married someone she loves, who happens to be one particular gender.

6. She’s not just “greedy.”
Why do bisexual people get called greedy all the time like they’re going to date every single person on earth because they have hypnotic powers and then everyone else will be single and miserable? See no. 4. I am attracted to almost no one, which means you can have almost everyone. I do not want them all.

7. She might be really scared to tell you she’s bisexual.
Because if she does, you might assume one of the things on this list and then she’ll either feel like she has to explain her whole life to you or have you hate her or start being weird around her. Sadly, she’s faced these kinds of things before with other partners and is really worried that you might be the same as all the other assholes. So please don’t be.

8. She doesn’t have a specific percentage of how gay she is and how straight she is.
Seriously, why do you want her to make sexuality pie charts anyway, weirdo? She just told you she’s bisexual. That doesn’t require diagrams.

9. Guys: No, she doesn’t want to have a threesome with you just because she’s bisexual.
She might want to have a threesome because she likes threesomes in the same way some straight people like threesomes, but assuming she wants that just because she’s attracted to more than one gender doesn’t even make sense and it makes you sound like a moron. Please don’t be a moron.

10. Yes, she’s able to commit to same-sex relationships.
Lesbians, you are so scary to so many bisexual women because so many of you think that bisexuals are cheaters or liars or fickle when the fact of the matter is, that bisexual girl who broke your heart because she left you for a man just left you for a person. Be mad or hurt or sad because someone dumped you for someone else, but don’t think for a second they dumped you because they secretly loved boys more than girls. Come on.

11. She might feel like she doesn’t have any place in the LGBT community or in the straight community.
Because lesbians think she’s not gay enough and straight people think she’s this overly sexualized tramp who will sleep with anyone. Even though the B in LGBT is there, it often feels like it’s not, so being supportive of her occasionally feeling isolated goes a long way.

12. She may have only had serious relationships with one gender and not another, but that doesn’t mean she’s more into one gender or another.
Some bisexuals have mostly had long-term relationships with men and not as many relationships with women, oftentimes because they were socialized to be straight and pursue boys, so they’ve just been dating them longer. But whatever the reason, that doesn’t make her X percent gay or straight. It just means she’s had more experience (or luck) with one gender than another. Also, please stop trying to do the math on this, seriously.

13. No, you can’t “turn” her one way or the other.
Your love or sex or body parts cannot make her more into your specific gender just because you’re so awesome. That is not a thing.

14. Yes, fine, she’s bisexual, but she’s also a woman you’re crazy about.
If you’re reading this, there’s a good chance that the fact that this girl you like is bisexual is a little overwhelming to you. That’s OK. But don’t forget she’s a person. A complex, multifaceted, funny, intelligent, fascinating, hot person you’re totally into. So it doesn’t really matter who she likes or doesn’t like or why. If she likes you, that’s all you really need to know.

anonymous asked:

I used to be a HV stan and lemme tell you a few things from being in the fandom. The music is barely EVER mentioned unless there's a new song being released or someone criticizes them. Literally all that talked about in the fandom is how the girls dress and do their makeup. Also: the fans are very friendly. To a point. If you criticize one TINY thing, then it's like a warzone. No one is really allowed to share their opinions about HV if they're even slightly negative. Not even the stans. ++

++ I honestly don’t think that fandom will last. Waayyy too many people have dropped out already. Mostly because of how bitchy people in it are. That and people are finally opening their eyes and seeing that they’re not good. I’m no longer in the fandom. And tbh? I have NO idea what I ever saw in them other than their looks. It’s almost as if I were hypnotized

I will always go back to this point that appearance matters to if you like an artist and often puts an impression on. (e.g. if i dont like how a band looks, i wont be attracted to come listen to them)

i think HV know this

and even fans who became fans this way have realised the music isnt that good, but because theyre fans, they will stick up for them

they wont admit defeat, they will stand their ground like any fan but they know the music (the little that there is) isnt going to be a good argument for liking them, since most fans ive met dont even like their music.

the fans ive met are more fans of their aesthetic, their look and they way they do things. they dont care for the music and the past (its just an extra)

i think thats where/why things are wrong in that fandom

that fandom knows their idols are problematic and they cant handle it. so they fight. i cant say my opinion without someone coming to fight me. my untagged posts end up on instagram with someone starting a fight.

fans know theyre problematic but they cant handle someone else pointing it out. 

i dont see how their music is to like, BUT i can see how people think it is likeable. CB was about girl power, but nia and rena have always said their distractions are boys. thats where the flaws start. HV was going to be about girl power and they said it always is even with casey (and now iain) in the band.  

that message (that they are all about girl power) will always imprint on peoples brains. i understand how sometimes people say feminism goes too far, because SOME people do start being sexist towards men and thinking woman are superior. this is not the case. but sometimes, this mentality is there. and some young people especially will not understand that this is wrong, and young people will not understand that what HV is doing, is being sexist towards men, and glorifying toxic, abusive and illegal relationships. 

with this mentality, and the hype of women finally going to final mile to equality, people forget the true meaning of feminism and think stuff like fuqboi is okay.

im sure HV didnt know what they were doing, maybe they did. but the song is still wrong and it is still sexist. it amazes me how some fans dont see this. but they dont see it because of this mentality. 

i think people like their music because they still think its all about girl power, but that is not the case. and they need to realise that. it is no longer about girl power, some of their songs are sexist and glorify toxic/illegal/abusive relationships.

girl power is “i dont need a man to be a queen” “i dont need a man to complete me” “just because im a girl doesnt mean i cant do this” etc etc

girl power is not “i can abuse a man and show him i dont have to be his pretty house wife” or “ill hit him and show him im not a stereotype” or “ill show him im better than him”

everyone needs to realise this

(i know this post may be pointed out as problematic. but problematic as it, its true. that mentality is there and some people do think like that. im not saying every HV does and thats why they like it, but it is why some of them like it. this is just my opinion and my view on the matter)

So, this…this is the part where I ramble about my Evil Plan.
Yes, I know, it’s a bit of a clichè.
But it’s like…a supervillain convention, I can’t skip that.
Also, you are now powerless to stop me.
You see, you are in power.
You cannot resist.
Sure, laugh.
Come on.
Please, be my guest.
But you see…I already hypnotized you.
You just have to realize it.
I know, it’s a slow process, but I assure you…
it’s a blissful one.
Right now, I am…let’s say ten steps away from you?
I’ll give you this ten steps to stop me.
It isn’t much, I know.
But, it’s enough.
It’s enough for you to realize that is too late to stop me.
It’s enough for you to see that resistance is futile.
Am I talking too much like a comic-book villain?
Oh, my dear.
I LIVE like one.
And of course, my plan was to make you my mindless thrall.
Make you an obedient doll.
But completely, and utterly mindless.
Such a nice word.
It sounds…empty, but…so…so…
The words are starting to fade from your mind uh?
It’s a side effect of the brainwash I fear.
But, hey, there’s not a single problem with that.
I see that you are struggling.
And you took your first step.
Only nine left.
Only nine left to stop me.
And you still don’t believe me.
You don’t believe that you are going to fall.
Even if your knees are shaking.
Even if your arms are heavy as stones.
Even if your eyes, your gorgeous eyes,
are locked into mine.
Waiting for a signal.
Waiting for my signal.
Only eight steps left.
I’m impressed, really.
You are pretty good at this.
But I am just better.
You could have stopped me already.
But you are taking your time.
So, so slowly.
Only seven steps left.
It was such an awful thought in your brain.
It was such are…dare I say it? Disgusting idea.
You thought you could resist.
Maybe you could.
But my presence makes it so…hard.
So, so hard.
Stop struggling. You can still do that.
Just stop.
And kneel.
But still, you are walking towards me.
Only six steps left.
Six, small steps.
As your soles starts to feel warm.
As your toes became to curl.
As a familiar warmth spreads trough your legs.
Are you getting excited?
Oh sure.
Keep telling yourself you aren’t.
Your body is betraying you.
Just five steps left.
So close.
So, so close.
And yet, so far.
So far from your old self.
The one that was stubborn.
The one that thought that I was just telling a lie.
But you see, it wasn’t a lie.
I am brainwashing you.
But still, your mind thinks it can resist my programming.
How cute.
How adorably cute.
Four steps left.
And then you will stop me.
My voice will stop.
My words will cease entering your brain.
And that’s…odd.
You seem sad.
Sad that you are not going to hear me talk anymore.
You are growing accustomed to my words.
Only three, small steps left.
You have been so good until now.
I am proud of you.
That feels good doesn’t it?
Yes sir it does.
“Yes sir”.
Sounds even nicer when you hear it.
And, the voice that is saying that is strangely familiar.
Only two steps.
I am here.
I’ve always been here.
For you.
For you to hear.
And cherish.
Come one. You can just move your hand
And give me a punch.
A slap.
A kick.
And i’ll be stopped.
I am powerless right now.
But…so are you.
Feeling weaker
and weaker.
All those thoughts of being “one of the good guys”,
a “protector of the innocents”
are gone now.
You only want to take that last step.
Only one left.
Only one.
So close.
Your will is almost gone though.
Take that last step at your risk.
Zero steps left.
You are here.
In front of me.
And each step you took,
it made you blanker.
To me.
And to my words.
You see, I was telling a lie.
I hadn’t really hypnotized you.
I did it now.
And have been such a good subject.
So responsive.
So eager.
To learn.
And to please.
So eager to obey.
I commanded you to take ten steps.
And you did.
That was your first order.
And here you here.
In front of me.
On the edge of bliss.
Unable to say anything coherent.
With your body that shakes and twitches.
Now, there are no more steps to take.
So, the next logical step would be to do something different.
But you do not do logical anymore.
You do what I say you to do.
So, now, just kneel.
And start your new life.
As my obedient pet.
And now, if you would stop drooling,
and look into my eyes again,
you will go deeper, and deeper into trance.
And as I let you do that,
to lose more and more of your old self,
if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to practice my Evil Laugh.

deadpools-girlfriend as promised

I did a thing. It is a sad thing, but I did it. TW suicide mention.


I tried to call a crisis hotline but got one number off and started ranting for 10 minutes before you got to speak and tell me I got the wrong number but now you’re worried about me and telling me not to hang up

The phone felt slippery in her clammy grip and the streets below blurred from her tears. The line rang in her ear, drowning out the distant sounds of traffic. The wind whipped her hair around, the strands clinging to her wet cheeks, and her breath came out raggedly as the coldness of the railing bit into her palm that was tethering her to the building. Only a step stood between her and death. And so she stood, tremoring, and waited for someone to pick up.


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