P-friggin-S A

The Master List is here:  https://thehypnobunny.tumblr.com/hypnosis-resources

and it will be perpetually updated.

IF YOU ARE A HYPNO-FETISHIST, PLEASE GO READ IT AND SEND IN THINGS TO CONTRIBUTE

This is designed to be the answer that we can give people when they ask us how to get started/how to learn more/how to meet people/etc. To do that, it needs it to be more than just my voice and things that I’m aware of. I also need help spreading awareness.

If you run a hypnosis blog, please reblog

Tagging the hell out of people….

This is my grandfather’s rock.  It is Probably a Garnet, which he mined out himself when he was in college studying to be a geologist.

Though you may assume this is a Small Rock, it is in fact a very Large Rock, and also a very Heavy Rock, but most especially a very Square Rock, which is what makes it particularly cool.

Here we have a rock which used to be a tree.  This rock is petrified wood!  It was one of my very first Cool Rocks!

Speaking of rocks that used to be things that were not rocks, this rock is Petoskey stone!  This rock used to be a coral.  Let’s get a good look at those patterns.

Now that’s a Cool Rock!

Amethyst?  It’s an Okay Rock.  If you are looking for an inexpensive rock to start your collection, amethyst is the way to go.  It’s a quartz with a deep purple color.  A very nice, if average, rock.

Now citrine… Citrine is a Cool Rock!  It’s a smoky quartz with a lovely honey color.  The druzy on my chunk of citrine has a wonderful sparkle.

This is my Amazonite!  It grew that hexagon shape all by itself!!  This specimen is from Colorado.

Look at this shiny little slice of rock!  This rock is Tiger Iron, and those bands of red and orange glow beautifully with some light behind them.  These different colored bands are made from Hematite (the dark silver), Jasper (the red-orange), and Tiger-Eye quartz (the yellow-orange).

Here’s a rock you’ve probably seen before!  This Cool Rock is Malachite.  The patterns and rings are from the stalagmites this little egg was carved from.

Whoa, look at this giant slab of Extremely Cool Rock!!!  These crystals formed in the cracks of fossilized mud, to make the awesome patterns in this geode of Septarian!  This is my second best rock.

This is my Best and most Favorite Cool Rock.  In this dark room it’s a dull little grey rock, but if I move it closer to the light…

Those glints of gold!  Those veins of blue!  This rock is most certainly Labradorite, which changes color spectacularly when the light hits it just right.  Let’s put it in direct sunlight.

Gear? Bri looked herself in the mirror. Check.

Weapons? Thumbing at her hilt, she nodded. Check.

Supplies? Running her hand through the open bag on her desk, she nodded at the sound of potions jostling against one another. Check.

She threw the bag over her back and set out. Today. Today, she was going to get that title.

The local guild, partnered with some women in glasses (that had been there at the announcement, she recalled), came up with yet another level of prestige - and, much to her initial annoyance, she had fallen for it. She usually wasn’t one to fall for the guild’s latest trends. It was probably just a way to get certain adventurers up and out of there, instead of hanging around the guild and in town all the time, the drunkards, Bri thought as she rolled her eyes. Perhaps her interest this time was because she was uniquely situated for the quest.

In the depths of dungeons still barely explored, a certain creature had come to the town’s attention - for lack of a better name, the guild had decided to call them Sirens. Named after their sea-dwelling counterparts, Sirens were apparently otherworldly beautiful, enchanting, and mysterious, their faces partially obscured by their masks. The guild had initially thought their existence to be a prank by the researchers who insisted on ordering expeditions - but they had already lost several men, who set out to playfully attempt to unmask the ‘Sirens’ to see which women in town were in on the joke, within the last week.

One party of six returned the night before the announcement, having barely escaped - they spoke of the Siren that they had encountered, her sweet songs, the wonders of the Siren’s deadly beauty, the sting of the even deadlier magic she could cast, the way she seemed to take all of their hits without even flinching. Their eyes looked haunted, confused - and the very next day, the guild announced for all to hear that anyone who could bring back a Siren’s mask, would be bestowed the title and prestige of being the one who removed a Siren’s mask. Particularly detailed achievement-seeking adventurers immediately set out on the quest, but only few returned unscathed, the majority limping back or being carried back by their partners. Teams of five and six and eight would go at a time, and not all would come back at the same time. Two weeks later, and the first person the title was bestowed upon was someone who had gone hunting solo - a woman.

The guild was a bit of a boy’s club, and most of them had been skeptic, until one of the researchers in town confirmed that it was a Siren’s mask. Apparently, they could tell. Maybe they already had one, and were trying to get more. Maybe there were magical properties to it. Who knew? There was a stir at the guild and accusations went flying - namely towards the researchers, who reassured the guild that their only goal was to research more about the Sirens and that if the guild couldn’t help them, they’d be on their way to the next. When asked for tips on overcoming the Siren, the newly-titled adventurer seemed perplexed and didn’t understand the trouble people were having with it. Needless to say, it sparked another wave of adventurers, eager to earn the title now that it felt possible.

It only cemented the idea that beating the Siren would be a piece of cake for Bri - and so far, past the monsters and rooms and traps of the dungeon, she found herself looking forward to it. Leaning against the wall to take a quick breath, she braced herself for a fight. She could encounter the Siren at any moment, now. The monsters had gotten bigger, her enemies harder to overcome with every step deeper into the dungeon. She could only imagine the final boss being a Siren. But she’d be okay. Those adventurers, the ones that had failed - they were all too distracted and captured by her beauty. She smirked. Bri was better than that, beyond that. It wouldn’t affect her, even. Reaching into her knapsack and pulling out cotton, she carefully stuffed her ears. Just in case it was the song, too. A few tests confirmed that her makeshift earplugs worked.

Finally walking into a room that seemed mostly empty, Bri looked around in confusion, before her eyes grew wide. This was it. This was the room. The Siren could be anywhere now. She walked forward quietly, slowly. Looking around the room, she swallowed her anxiety. No use in getting nervous now.

Besides, she’d be fine, right? What would a Siren want with a girl? She’d return, at least, if not a little bit embarrassed for failing.

A blow from behind knocked her down to her knees, and she whipped her head up to look around to see who had done it. Nobody. As empty as ever. Cursing under her breath, she realized that she couldn’t hear the Siren’s footsteps because of the cotton. As she began to stand back up, she couldn’t help but notice a figure in front of her stepping out from the shadows.

It was her. It was the Siren. The Siren held a flute to her mouth, appearing to be playing it. Bri fought a grin threatening to spread across her face. She couldn’t hear anything. The music wouldn’t work on her. She walked towards the Siren boldly, drawing her weapon, and broke out into a run, hoping to catch the Siren by surprise by facing her head-on with confidence and stride. The Siren lowered her flute in surprise.

She had it!

She was going to do it!

That title was hers.

Bri’s thoughts of victory came to a screeching halt as the Siren dropped the flute to the floor and raised her eyes up to make eye contact.

Her eyes were beautiful, Bri could admit, but she was no silly drunkard playing adventurer, she was no wannabe playboy who had a guild card for appearance’s sake. She wasn’t going to fall for…fall for her seduction. If eye contact could be considered seduction.

She felt a faint rumble at her feet, a clatter. However she tried, she couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away from the Siren’s. With all of her strength, she mustered the will to look down at her feet, where her weapon lay, discarded - but didn’t have the energy or will to lean down and pick it back up. When had she dropped…her weapon? What was going on?

Her eyes felt magnetized as they almost immediately flew back to focus on the Siren’s eyes. The Siren walked towards her slowly, confidently, as Bri felt rooted into place, her legs unwilling to move, her feet unwilling to budge.

The Siren was drawing ever closer now. Her mask was beautiful - covered with dazzling decorations, it only really hid the Siren’s eyes, but the Siren didn’t seem too focused on protecting her identity anyway. Not when she was already so, so, so close.

Finally within arm’s length, the Siren put her hands on Bri’s shoulders and pet them, as if consoling her. The Siren spoke, but Bri could not hear her. Briefly confused at the lack of response back, the Siren realized her mistake and gently pulled out the cotton.

“Ah, there we go. You can hear me now, right? Respond.”

“Yes.” Bri couldn’t even stop herself from saying yes.

“Ah, what a silly rumor. You know, I just play the flute because I like it.” The Siren giggled, clearly pleased with herself. “But it’s so funny when people walk in here basically deaf and can’t hear me coming. Don’t you agree? I think you do. Say yes.”

“Yes,” Bri whimpered.

“Good,” the Siren sneered. “Keep your eyes wide, wide, wide open now!”

Bri’s eyes watered with effort as she stared helplessly into the dark depths of the Siren’s eyes, and found herself getting lost in them. This wasn’t supposed to happen, damn it, she was supposed to–

“You know, it’s really just everything about us.” The Siren sighed wistfully. “Life is so hard when people just do whatever you say. They can block their ears, they can take away their sight, but no matter what…” She teased a finger up Bri’s neck. “They always. Find. A way to obey. It’s such a shame,” the Siren pouted, her lips full and twitching, hinting at a hidden smile.

“Oh, you’re such a cute little thing, aren’t you?”

Bri couldn’t think of anything to say. She realized, with a sinking feeling, that it was starting to become harder to think of anything at all.

“Oh, wait. You’re such a cute little thing, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes!” Bri’s voice chirped back, regardless of her will. This was embarrassing. So much more embarrassing than just returning back to the guild without a mask. She wanted more than anything to pull away and turn around and run as fast as she could, but she just couldn’t bring herself to break eye contact with the Siren.

“You are cute, really. You know, I personally prefer girls…Hmm, let’s try…You’re such a cute little thing for me, yes? Say yes.”

“YES! Y-Yes?” Bri’s voice faltered, confused. She…She was… A sudden pounding in her head broke her focus, and she grasped at her head, her eyes squeezed shut as if to block out the pain. She was a cute little thing, but no, she was an adventurer for her? For, for… For herself, she loved adventuring, for herself, for herself for herself for herself for her for her for her. A cute little thing.

“Aww sweetie, I’m sorry. That might have been too confusing for you.” The Siren pulled Bri into a soft, warm embrace, and Bri couldn’t help but whimper and melt into her arms. She sank to the floor, her legs like jelly, and the Siren slowly lowered herself in kind.

“I’ll sing you a song, and you’ll feel alllll better…”

The Siren’s song took away the headache, and it took away all of the confusing thoughts, the small, weak thoughts that were confusing her, the thoughts that didn’t feel right…in all of her kindness, the Siren also made it easier to think again by helping the right thoughts feel clear, strong, bold. Bri wished she could understand the Siren’s song, but all she knew was that it sounded beautiful and that she just wished she could stay here forever and never leave. She opened her eyes and stared lovingly at the Siren, a trembling hand reaching towards her face.

“Hm? You want this?” The Siren smiled gently. She closed her eyes, waiting.

Bri pulled at the mask. Really, it was just fabric, and it fell away easily, but it was her mask. And Bri loved it. Loved it loved it loved it. She held it in her hand protectively, her thoughts of love and pleasure and worship interrupted by the Siren’s words.

“Up at me, sweetie.”

Bri looked back up at the Siren, her eyes watering with tears of joy, of reverence. Her body shook and trembled, and she squirmed in the Siren’s embrace. As her world went white, the last thing she saw were the Siren’s eyes, piercing, enrapturing, bliss, simply perfect…

The Siren cradled Bri in her arms and rocked her from side to side, humming and soothing her, slipping in mantras of praise for her and directives.

“You can’t stay here forever dear, and you do have to leave…” Bri whined softly in her haze, and the Siren smiled. “But do take the mask with you, as a token of your love for me, and to remember the time you spent with me…”

“And do bring some more of your friends back, soon.”

“You know the rules!!” The room erupted with raucous laughter as Beth grinned. “Seven minutes in heaven starts now. Go, go!”

“Beth!!” I hissed under my breath, my face blushing furiously. “Wha–”

“Go!” She winked at me and nodded towards Sara.

“Shall we?” Sara laughed along with the crowd. “I mean, seven minutes away from this party is like heaven, honestly.” She stuck her tongue out and playfully jabbed at Beth’s side. She extended a dainty hand.

Oh, be still, my heart.

I took her hand, hoping that she was too focused on getting to the closet, hoping that she hadn’t noticed how red my face was. The closet door being closed behind us, I sighed in relief - at least in the dark, she wouldn’t notice me freaking the fuck out. Now all I had to do was keep my voice calm and steady.

“You know…” Sara’s thumb rubbing against the back of my hand, I was now imminently aware that we were still holding hands. “I had been meaning to like, get some time with you in private.”

“…Wh-What?” I squeaked, my voice cracking. Aw, fuck. So much for that.

“Yeah!” Her other hand started to stroke my wrist. “I mean, these aren’t the ideal circumstances…” She laughed.

“Yeah, it’s like…so childish, really, to still, uh, have this game…” I forced out a laugh. Oh god, I was blowing it.

“Yeah, and it’s dark and you can’t even see me,” she pouted.

“Yeah, I– Wait, what?” I mean…I was slightly disappointed I couldn’t see her soft, cherubic cheeks, her perfect smile, her passionate, striking green eyes…

“Shh, shhh, just focus on my fingers. You can feel my fingers, right?” Sara whispered softly, her fingers sweeping up and down my forearm.

I blushed, once again relieved that she wouldn’t be able to see my face. She was right. Her fingers, so soft, just barely touching my skin…I couldn’t believe she was actually touching me, like this… I was hooked on the tingling tickling sensation of her fingers brushing against the hairs of my arm, how it transitioned to her nails gently trailing upwards towards my shoulder, her hand squeezing my shoulder reassuringly… I let out a sigh as I relaxed into her touch, as my mind began to wander. Her whispers felt almost drowned out by the sounds of the party outside, and I felt bad for not being able to fully hear her, but every time I struggled to focus on her words, I would just sink more and more into relaxation, my tension fading away. I couldn’t help it, just feeling her touch me was so… so perfect, and relaxing, and…

Her fingers lightly grasped my neck, and I was surprised by how forward yet gentle she was being. My heart leapt into my throat, and my breath hitched as her fingers slowly progressed up towards my chin.

“…Breathe, cutie…”

She called me cute!! I let out a longing sigh. I hadn’t noticed, until I started breathing again, how our breaths felt shared, how close her face was to mine, how her hands gently cupped my cheek and drew me closer to hers.

“I guess we’d better play the game, hmm?” I could hear the smile in her voice, the warmness of her breath on my cheeks, and felt both my body and mind dissolve into her embrace as we shared a kiss.

This was heaven.

I took a deep breath.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

I opened my eyes.

It was dark. Of course it was. The blindfold had been pretty securely attached, after all.

Tuning back into my surroundings, I could hear the sounds of the room around me. Quiet, not very many people talking, mostly hushed whispers and the low hum of the air conditioning. I felt myself starting to zone out again until a voice cut through the background noise, a voice that my focus zoomed in on, a voice that whispered into my ear.

“Are you ready?”

I nodded, a bit frantically. “Yes,” I blurted out. I was supposed to be more communicative. Had to remember that.

“Good.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

It was so different from the voice I was used to hearing from her. Somehow, lower, sensual even, the kind of voice that sent shivers down my back.

“Oh, you’re very reactive, aren’t you?” She cooed and ran her fingers up along my spine.

“Y-Yes,” I stammered out, my voice trembling. I bit my lip to try and stop, to try and stay calm, to not sound so already lost.

“Uh uh,” she chided. “No hiding your reactions. But good for saying yes. Your lips are for saying yes.” Her fingers slid up the back of my neck, into my hair as she ran them up and down my scalp, petting my hair. I couldn’t help but moan and lean into it, the sensation too calm and relaxing to sit perfectly straight. My breath hitched as her fingers tugged lightly at my hair every so often, much to her delight.

“Ah fuck.” She giggled. “It’s like, I can’t just pet you, you make all these good noises and it’s like ‘uff I need to pull your hair’ because damn, you’ve got some cute moans.”

“Uh– ah- um!” I flustered, the heat rising to my cheeks. “Y-You know, you can, right? That was part of–”

“Oh I caaan?” Her voice turned sickly sweet. “Thanks so much!”

“Yeah, of co–”

“So like this, right?” She grabbed at the roots of my hair, her fingers curling and tangling themselves into my hair, pulling at the roots.

“Aahhh, ff, fuck!” I gasped, caught off guard. “Yes, yes like–! Yes!”

“Yes what?” Her grip loosened.

“Yes to that.” I blushed.

“To…what?” Her voice dripped with anticipation. “You’re going to have to be more specific.” Her fingers teased at my scalp gently, the faint promises of more to come.

“To…to!” I stumbled over my words, my embarrassment rising. I heard more whispers around me, soft giggles and sounds of intrigue. I clutched at the sides of the chair and froze, looking down instinctively, even though I couldn’t see anything.

“Shh shh, it’s okay. Look at me.” I rose my head towards her voice as she tugged on the blindfold and my vision returned. “It’s me. Yes?”

“…Yes.” I found my voice.

“Look at me. Eye contact now.” She rubbed my back.

I swallowed and nodded, staring into her, feeling my world narrow until it was just the reflection in her dark brown eyes.

“You were saying?” Her hand trailed back up to my hair and started ruffling it gently.

“I…I. Yes, to the uh…hair pulling. A little rougher, I like when it gets a little…rough…” My cheeks were hot and I fought every urge to avert my gaze as she stared straight into me, into my core, into my desires.

“Mmm, good…” She started to smirk. “So like about thiiiis rough you think?” Her grip started tightening.

“Ah, ah, yes, yes, yes…” I groaned, my words sounding distant and dazed. “Almost hard to think, haha, with your hand in my hair…”

“Mmm, almost like your hair is just connected to your brain, and ruffling it kinda fuzzes you out, and pulling it kind of just scrambles your thoughts?” She grinned, pulling harder, tighter, further back slowly as the pressure grew stronger and stronger.

“Yes, yes, yes…” My voice faded into whispers and guttural moans as my world started to fall away, as my eyes rolled and felt pulled back into my head.

“Eye contact, I said,” she chided, her voice sharp, but with a smile behind it.

I fought to keep my eyes open, my eyelids fluttering with effort, my eyes only barely focusing on her face, catching a glimpse of her widening smile, losing myself in the predatory look in her eyes. Her hand loosened, then readjusted and pulled my head back again, the grip in my hair tighter and tighter as my scalp tingled and burned.

“I bet it’s real hard to think like this, huh?”

“Fuck, ahh–! H-hard, think?” I babbled and repeated after her, my mind too jumbled to form my own thoughts, latching onto hers instead.

“Aww, that’s right, it is isn’t it?” She mock pouted. “It’s so hard to think when it feels so good, isn’t it? Say yes, dear.” She nodded my head up and down for me with my hair still ensnared by her fingers, cooing as she puppeted my agreement. “So glad you agree. You love agreeing, don’t you?”

“Yes!! Yes, yes…” I trailed off, my voice wavering, soft, whimpering.

“Aww, you love the control, don’t you? And you love that I’m helping you agree? Don’t worry that it’s hard to think of saying anything but ‘yes’. Your poor brain’s so fried that’s all you can think of. Your lips are for saying yes.”

“YES!” I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding once she loosened her grip and returned to rubbing my back.

“Everything okay?” She whispered.

“Yes, yes, uh, good! Green!” I babbled.

“Good.” She flashed me a warm smile before her eyes widened with excitement. “Oh, an idea I have…”

“Ah?” I asked, more of a gasp.

“You said you liked the control of the hair pulling earlier…” She weaved her fingers back through my hair, yanking my head back, pulling firmly and taut.

“Well, one thing about this position is that it lends itself very well to control…” Her other hand slid up my chest and rested around my throat. “And you’re practically presenting yourself to me like this.”

My heart leapt into my throat, where it was caught, kept, seized by her fingers caressing my increasingly sensitive throat, my skin alight and buzzing with shivering sensations that made my body tense with cool shivers and trembling heat alike. As her fingers squeezed lightly, shifting position and grasping more of my neck, my heart stood still, though I could hear the sound of my heart rapidly pounding in my ears, along with her soothing, soft words as she whispered control and obedience into my thoughts. My consciousness focused on her while my eyes unfocused, first fluttering and blinking, then threatening to roll back again, kept only by my sheer will to keep eye contact with her.

“Oh, you don’t need to anymore. Sometimes it’s soooo hard to keep your eyes open. And that’s okay. Sometimes it just feels better to finally slip into darkness and sink, and drop and fall, and close your eyes while opening your mind. That sounds lovely, doesn’t it?”

Vaguely, I felt my head being nodded by her fist still clutched tightly around my locks, and the last thing I saw were her piercing eyes. Unable to stay sitting up, I slumped forward in my chair. She whispered affirming words into my ear, into my mind, how good I was for sitting up straight for so long, how good I was for keeping eye contact, for agreeing with her, for sinking for her. How good it felt to continue agreeing with her. A sleepy ‘yes’ slipped from my lips and she giggled, a light and happy sound unlike the commanding tone she had taken with me before.

I felt her fingers on the sides of my arms as they trailed upwards slowly, as she counted upwards and encouraged me to open my eyes, to take my time waking up.

“Flutter flutter,” she whispered. “Slowly now.”

As my vision flickered back alive, I took in the surroundings around me - the room, the people around, her.

“Hey there!”

I opened my mouth but the words wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t help but stare into her eyes, unable to break contact even as I felt the flush forming.

“Hey, hey!” She waved a hand in front of my face, breaking eye contact, the other patting my shoulder gently. “You can talk now. Let your words come to you now. Your lips can be for more than just yes, you know.” She winked.

Stunned by the lapse in eye contact, the events that had just transpired hit me all at once as I buried my face in my hands, blushing furiously.

“No wai– Nuh uh!” Her tone was firm, but gentle. “No hiding! I want to see you.” Her hand ruffled my hair and tugged lightly until I looked up at her shyly. She cupped my chin in her hand and tilted it up towards her, cooing.

“Good.”

A nervous energy tingled across my entire body, trembling with anticipation and excitement.

“That was,” I started. “Um. Uh.” Staring into her eyes, it was hard not to feel a bit embarrassed about gushing.

“It’s okay, take your time,” she reassured me, one hand rubbing my back and the other petting my hair all the while.

“That was, um.” I looked down briefly to gather my thoughts, the eye contact suggestion no longer as compelling as before. “That was…amazing. And great, and so so so creative and inspiring and oh gosh that just flowed so well and–!!”

“Shh, slow down, slow down,” she chuckled. “We have all night.”

And so we talked late into the night, shared our words, our thoughts, hugs as we sat by each other and leaned against the other when we were out of words, when all we had to share was silence and our existence in one another’s space. Finally, as we stood up and made our way towards the door, ready to leave, I found myself trailing slowly behind her, coming to a pause.

“What’s up?” She turned back and looked at me, concerned.

My fingers touched my lips. “The…the ‘lips are for saying yes’ part, that was…I know I gushed about it a lot just now, but that really was great. It kind of almost feels like a call and response, the kind that I really love, the kind that just exudes that level of control…” I found myself biting my lip.

She smiled softly, though the mischievous glint in her eyes was not lost on me.

It was Mrs. Figg who suspected first.

She noticed many things, sitting on her side of her fence with her cats chasing butterflies and nuzzling her ankles, Mundungus and the other watchers dropping by for tea now and then.

Mrs. Figg noticed that Petunia was a nosy bit of work with insecurities hanging from her every harsh angle. She noticed when Dudley learned the word MINE– the whole neighborhood noticed that one. She noticed that Vernon glared at owls.

She noticed that when Petunia gave Harry a truly horrendous haircut one year, it grew back in at a normal rate. Harry was uneven and weird-looking for ages, hiding under beanies when he could.

When Mrs. Figg had Harry over for carefully miserable afternoons of babysitting, she noticed nothing moved that shouldn’t. He didn’t accidentally make flowers out of fallen leaves, or levitate anything during tantrums, or turn toys funny colors.

Mrs. Figg called up her mother, interrupting the wizarding bridge game she was winning against the nursing home staff, and asked her how she had known, decades back, that her youngest daughter was a squib.

When Albus Dumbledore received Mrs. Figg’s letter he wrote back a polite thank you and then went to talk with Minerva McGonagall, who inhaled sharply in horror when he told her the news.

Finally, McGonagall gave a gathered sigh. “I suppose we can ask one of the wizarding families to homeschool him,” she said. “We can’t have the Boy Who Lived not knowing about his own world.”  

“No, he’ll come to Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore.

“Hogwarts is not a place for–” Her voice fell. “–squibs, Albus.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Harry must be taught.”

“Be taught what, Albus?”

But Dumbledore just sighed and offered her a lemon drop.

Years later, the owls and the letters came to 4 Privet Drive. The Dursleys ran, dragging Harry with them, and the letters and one stubborn gamekeeper followed– none of this would change with a magicless Harry.

When Hagrid asked Harry in that little cabin on that little rock in the middle of the sea if weird things always happened around him, Harry couldn’t tell him about vanishing glass and setting captive snakes free, about ending up somehow on the school roof, or growing his hair out overnight.  

“Strange things always happen around you, don’ they?”

“Um,” said Harry, racking his brain. “Well… I live in a cupboard under the stairs…”

Harry could tell him about how snakes sometimes talked back, because that had never been Harry’s magic, but when he did Hagrid just blanched and changed the subject.

Hagrid held out hope, even against Dumbledore’s quiet warning explanations, until they made it to Ollivander’s Wands. Harry marveled at Diagon Alley, got his hands shaken in the Leaky, pressed his nose up against shop windows. Hagrid watched the scant boy– looked at James’s messy hair, Lily’s eyes, Harry’s own wandering gaze– and he wondered how this boy could be anything but magical.

In the wand shop, Ollivander said, “James Potter, yes… mahogany, eleven inches. Pliable. A powerful wand for Transfiguration.” He said, “And your mother, Lily…  strong in Charms work, ten and… yes, ten and a quarter, willow, swishy.”

Harry picked up stick after wooden stick. They remained just that– wood with bits of feather or scale or hair. Harry wondered if the creatures who gave these offerings were still alive– if they were given or taken. What did it do to your wand when they died? He waved a maplewood wand (unicorn hair, eleven inches) and a gust from the door opening blew some receipts off the counter.

“Well, said Ollivander. “I think that’s as close as we’re likely to get.”

He sent them out with the maplewood. Hagrid bought Harry a snowy owl and a fudge sundae and tried not make it too obvious that these were condolence gifts. The next day the Prophet’s headlines read: The Boy Who Lived– A Squib? Various magical medical experts weighed in on how it might have happened. Fingers were pointed at childhood trauma, at his upbringing, at his family lineage.

Harry still met Ron on the train– Ron was still smudge-nosed and Harry still bought enough candy to share. When Molly had helped him through the platform entrance, her voice had been a little softer, a little more pitying– but it was still better than the laughter that had been in his aunt and uncle’s voices when they dropped him here to find a platform they didn’t think existed.

Hermione Granger dropped by their compartment, looking for Neville’s toad, but got distracted when she spotted Harry. “I’ve read about you! In my books, and in the paper,” she said. “You’re the Boy Who Lived, and you’re a squib.”

Harry sank down in his seat. Ron hid Scabbers under a candy wrapper.

“Squibs have never been allowed in Hogwarts,” Hermione announced. “According to Hogwarts, A History, squibs try to sneak in now and then– the furthest anyone’s ever gotten is to the Sorting Hat before they got found out.” At eleven, Hermione still believed in expulsion being worse than death. Her voice was thrumming with sympathetic horror.

“But they already found out about me,” Harry said, alarmed.

“It’s alright, mate,” said Ron. “You’re Harry Potter. Oy, Granger,” he added. “What’s this Hat? Fred and George were trying to sell me some story about having to fight a mountain troll to get your House…”

Harry sat back and watched the countryside rush by. Yes, he was Harry Potter– his aunt’s useless sister’s useless child, the boy in the lumpy hand-me-down sweaters who named the spiders who lived in his cupboard. And here, in new world, he was apparently useless too.

When they got to Hogwarts, Harry clenched his fists and stood in line with the other first years. He barely twitched at the ghosts or Peeves, just stared ahead and thought about how far he would get before they turned him around and sent him back to Vernon and Petunia.

They opened the Great Hall doors. They called the first years one by one. Harry clenched his teeth and walked up to the Hat when they called his name.

As he turned to sit down on the stool, he really caught sight of the Hall for the first time– the hovering candles, the big wooden tables, the black robes that swallowed the light. Translucent ghosts gossiped with the students beside them. The paintings on the far walls– were they moving?

Harry’s jaw had unclenched, falling open. His fists curled open, curving around the stool’s seat as he leaned forward to stare. If this was it, if this was as far as he’d get in this world, then he wanted to drink it all in. The candles were floating, in mid-air.

The Hat dropped down over his eyes and blocked out the light.

Well, said the dry voice that had been hollering House placements all night. What do we have here?

Ron had been begging for not-Slytherin. Draco from the robes shop had been scornful of Hufflepuff, desperate in his disdain. Neville had begged for Hufflepuff, sure he was not brave enough for Gryffindor.

Please, thought Harry. Don’t send me back.

And, well, just like FYI, but I do have published books, too (and the ebooks are free):

Astronaut readjusts to life back on Earth

IT’S NOT FUNNY IT’S VERY LOGICAL THAT HE WOULD HAVE ADJUSTED TO LIVING LIFE WHILE HE WAS IN SPACE BECAUSE IT’S DIFFERENT FROM EARTH BUT I CAN’T FUCKING BREATHE

Hey guys, So I decided to try and create a contact list for those of us who want to stay connected. 

Form: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSeQw1ge7tKdMjRtT1sV1cOr0rIdmR2vgMFYL9E6jR7ruJg9MQ/viewform?usp=sf_link

Sheet: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1PmdHfP2M3n8DahGbOletslYx8q9oX5d0sv8WVoh4Zkc/edit?usp=sharing

Please share this around if you want to keep in touch. 

Pikachu meme is super hot right now

HYPNO!

(wub wub wub!)

@digitalswitchgamine @hypnokittencalico @sex-obsessed-lesbian @jimmyfngreen (sigh tumblr tagging)