#mesmeric-shadow

Note: this piece contains soft hypnotic language and may feel trance-like.Read only if you’re comfortable, and proceed at your own pace.

✦ ᛉ ᚨ ᚷ ᛟ ✦

The infamous trope: the bad hypnotist. The mad scientist who conquers the mind of the hero—or heroine.

Why does it fascinate so much? Maybe it’s not fascination at all, just a creative shortcut. A deus ex machina for storytelling.

How else do you explain someone acting completely out of character? Their brain was washed.

Picture it: a hero tied to a chair, headphones on, maybe a VR visor if we’re modern, and voilà—your hero is hypnotized, a puppet for the forces of evil. No guilt, no remorse, no mercy.

Then comes the battle. How can the hero awaken someone under trance? With the power of friendship? A good cognitive recalibration, as Marvel would put it? (You hit them hard enough.)

And does the hero remember what they did? What a deliciously complicated situation.

Most of us are conditioned to be the good ones. Few ever consider that we might be the villain in someone else’s story. So if you’re never given the chance to be the bad one, you embrace it—because everyone fantasizes: what if I acted like the villain?

But if you truly wanted to be evil, you just pull out what’s already latent. And there comes the real hypnosis versus the cliché fantasy.

Take the Winter Soldier as a prime example of mental control. They made him a puppet, implanted triggers, erased memories across movies. But it was non-consensual; they destroyed a mind.

In real hypnosis, collaboration is key. No suggestion, no order, will stick if you don’t want it to. Even if someone catches you off guard, the truly trained know that agency is everything.

This is why some hypnotists in erotic communities have fallen from grace. Because somewhere out there, someone isn’t using hypnosis as a shortcut in stories… but as a philosophy.

In erotic hypnosis, we usually side with the hero—or the victim.

Feeling control taken away, your judgments slipping away word by word, like drops falling into a bowl… Resistance sliding away like sand through fingers. Ideas fading like blurred lines. Everything in shades of gray. No black, no white. Just being… with your desires.

And then you rise from the chair, muscles loose, responding: “Of course, Doctor.”

And in that moment, the world falls beneath you, while you stare, lost, with a body at peace.

Somewhere, a masked figure reads this cliché with quiet amusement. People think villains are invented. They never wonder who wrote the script first.

●○●Caution: These words mimic control, not hypnosis. Still— if you feel them settling behind your thoughts, remember: you crossed the threshold willingly.

✦ ᚺ ᚢ ᚲ ᚺ ✦

A is for attention — your first mistake was giving it to me.

B is for boundaries — which I read, measure… and step over softly.

C is for control, the thing you think you still have.

D is for doorway — every word I speak is one.

E is for entry, and I do not knock.

F is for focus, narrowing exactly where I want it.

G is for gravity, the way you fall when I tilt my voice.

H is for hunger, the one you won’t admit you have.

I is for invitation, subtle and sharp.

J is for just relax — which is how all traps begin.

K is for keep listening, because curiosity is a leash.

L is for lure, velvet-soft, unavoidable.

M is for mind, the cathedral I intend to explore.

N is for no, the word you whisper too softly.

O is for obedience, the fantasy you pretend isn’t yours.

P is for power, and I never hide mine.

Q is for quiet, the pressure between your thoughts.

R is for ruin, the kind that feels suspiciously gentle.

S is for stillness, the body’s way of yielding.

T is for trigger, a word that tastes like surrender.

U is for under, where all good stories eventually go.

V is for voice, low enough to make the world blur.

W is for want, sharp and undeniable.

X is for x marks the spot, the mind’s softest fracture.

Y is for your silence, which tells me everything.

Z is for zero resistance, the ending every villain expects.

✦ On Forgetting & Fragments ✦ A reflection on memory, metaphor, and harm. It argues against simplistic models of the mind, framing forgetting as essential and retrieval as perilous. Engage with this as a piece of philosophical prose.

✦ ᚺ ᚢ ᚲ ᚺ ✦

I’ve said this before, but it keeps coming back. The idea that the mind is a computer.

It always makes me wonder why so many programmers want to become hypnotists. Maybe they’re looking for something else they can pretend is logical, orderly, and predictable.

I recently read a post that claimed the following:

The mind is a computer, and with hypnosis you can access perfect memory.

Oh, sweet summer child. Perfect memory does not exist, no matter how much people wish it did.

Yes, hypnosis can sometimes help access memories. Yes, it can also create false ones.

But you’re already missing the point.

Why do you think we forget things? Because the mind is a broken machine?

No.

Most of the time we forget because:

it wasn’t important

it wasn’t necessary for survival

or because remembering it would cause more harm than good

Forgetting is not a flaw. It is a function.

Retrieve what was forgotten without care, and people break— like a mirror thrown against the floor. Later, you walk barefoot. And the fragments cut you again and again.

In a distant galaxy, a Sith does not seek you.

He simply notices.

And that is already enough.

✦ ᚺ ᚢ ᚲ ᚺ ✦

No. I don’t need the Force.

Power is not always movement.

Not always visible.

Not always resisted.

I can see it in you already—

That stillness you’re holding too tightly.

That breath you regulate instead of trust.

That posture you mistake for control.

You call it discipline.

I call it strain.

Even now, you’re calculating.

Distance.

Timing.

Response.

The angle of your hand.

The reach of your weapon.

The fraction of a second you believe still belongs to you.

And that belief—

is the first thing that collapses.

You think intrusion requires force.

It doesn’t.

Minds don’t need to be opened—

they leak.

Through tension.

Through anticipation.

Through the quiet need to be ready.

And the Force?

It doesn’t reveal your strength.

It shows me what you hide from yourself.

Not fear as chaos—

but fear refined.

Structured.

Disciplined.

Buried so deep

you started calling it balance.

Your defenses are not weak.

They are old.

Repetitive patterns pretending to be walls.

Habits masquerading as protection.

They don’t stop anything.

They only delay the moment

you realize

you were never holding the line—

only maintaining the illusion of it.

I don’t break minds.

I wait.

Because eventually,

every structure built on tension

chooses release.

And when it does—

it won’t feel like defeat.

It will feel like clarity.

Like silence.

Like something finally

deciding for you.

○☉○Compliance has reviewed the villain.

✦ ᚺ ᚢ ᚲ ᚺ ✦

A is for attention — thank you for lending it voluntarily.

B is for boundaries — acknowledged, documented, respected.

C is for control — shockingly, still yours.

D is for dramatic tone — purely aesthetic choice.

E is for evil — currently pending legal clarification.

F is for fiction — please circle back to this letter if concerned.

G is for gravity — metaphorical only. No falling involved.

H is for hypnotic — in a literary sense.

I is for influence — best described as “vibes.”

J is for just relax — optional, not required.

K is for keep reading — or don’t. Free will audit passed.

L is for lure — rebranded as “engaging content.”

M is for mind — not accessed without written consent.

N is for no — a complete sentence.

O is for obedience — declined. Collaboration preferred.

P is for power — redistributed into mutual curiosity.

Q is for quiet — recommended for nervous systems.

R is for ruin — replaced with “mild inconvenience.”

S is for stillness — self-initiated.

T is for trigger — used responsibly and sparingly.

U is for under — as in under supervision.

V is for voice — indoor volume maintained.

W is for want — self-reported only.

X is for x-factor — charisma, not coercion.

Y is for your choice — continuously active.

Z is for zero actual mind control.

Please hydrate.

●○ Warning: This piece explores the darker edges of hypnotic power trance, obsession, control, and the corrosion of agency. Read with clarity. Don’t follow the spiral.

✦ ᚺ ᚢ ᚲ ᚺ ✦

I was having coffee and decided to take a break. My apprentice was silent. Curious.

Then a text appeared. We won’t say the author, but I thought: really?

Credit where it’s due. Let’s start with the premise:

“Hypnosis isn’t real.”

Sure, we can argue that another time. But what if that’s not the point? What if starting with a denial is simply a way to induce a state?

Denying something doesn’t make it less real. But it lowers your defenses. It loosens your guard. It makes you feel safe.

And there lies the trap: It’s not a statement. It’s covert induction.

If you know it’s coming, you can defend yourself. If you don’t… if you think “nothing’s happening”… It’s far easier to slip through the cracks.

You shouldn’t fear the villain who announces:

“Now you will be my slave for eternity.” –insert evil laugh–

That type always fails. Flashy villains who share their plans with the uneducated masses invite heroes. And a hero, when he sees visible chains, gets annoyed.

The rule is simple: Keep the chains hidden. Make the weight comfortable. Make it feel like a choice.

Instead of saying “you will be my puppet”, it’s more effective to say:

“Notice how your body relaxes with each breath… maybe now, maybe later.”

I don’t need to convince you that hypnosis is real. What works isn’t the technique. It’s the hunger.

People don’t fall for a pendulum. They fall for someone who finally looks at them. Who pays attention. Who adores. Who guides. Who pampers… or commands, depending on what they need.

That’s why charlatans thrive: because it’s easy to write crude words and seduce minds without imagination.

But I don’t want those minds. I want the ones that resist. The imaginative ones. The ones who force me to use all my skill. Because nothing is more satisfying than a mind that fought me, that tried to escape, and finally sinks deep, trapped in my words, unable to flee.

●○Warning: This piece explores the darker edges of hypnotic power not trance, but obsession, control, and the corrosion of agency. Read with clarity. Don’t follow the spiral. ✦ ᚺ ᚢ ᚲ ᚺ ✦

We always talk about the subject. Their resistance. Their surrender. Their fear of falling.

But we rarely talk about the other side— the strongest link in the chain. The hypnotist. The one who holds the power… or believes they do.

A bad hypnotist isn’t a villain. A cruel one isn’t either. Malice alone does not create a monster. The true villain is the one who needs control. Always. Relentlessly. Desperately.

The subject stops being a person. They become property.

Remember Loki in early Marvel? Green eyes glowing, “I am a god. Kneel.” And the world refusing.

That is the villain: not the seducer, but the one seduced by power. The one who once tasted the loss of control… and now mistakes dominance for safety.

“Look at them,” the dark whisper says, “They’re happier like this. You’re doing them a favor. They need you.” The last line is a lie: “They want to obey.”

And slowly, the black spiral doesn’t take the subject— it devours the hypnotist. The brilliant, charismatic mind forgetting its own responsibility.

Power without restraint. Seduction without consent. Control without humanity.

The villain isn’t the one who hypnotizes. The villain is the one who stops seeing the person and only sees the power.

Which is more dangerous? Giving that power to someone who could shatter your mind like glass… Or receiving the glass, knowing that with a single gesture, it could fracture from end to end?

“Some hypnotists think power is the tool. The villain thinks it is the cure.”

Warning: Not hypnotic. Not safe for fragile minds. Enter only if you can hold your own thoughts. Villains do not offer rescue.

Enter with clarity. Or don’t.

✦ ᚺ ᚢ ᚲ ᚺ ✦

People flatter in two ways: with their words, and with their collapse.

Both are useless to me.

Obedience is cheap. Anyone can fall into a trance if they’re tired, lonely, or naïve enough to trust the wrong voice. There is no artistry in guiding someone who wants to be guided. No revelation in watching a mind already half-asleep drift the rest of the way down.

But resistance— ah, that is different.

Resistance is a declaration: “I see you.” “I see the pressure you apply.” “I feel the pull you create.” “And I choose not to fall.”

Most minds never reach this point. They scatter, panic, rationalize, or obediently sink without question. Their resistance is chaotic—fear, not strength.

But the mind that resists with intention? That is a masterpiece.

When someone steadies their breath, anchors their thoughts, feels the vector of my words and refuses to follow— that is the closest thing to a compliment I will ever accept.

Not because they deny me. But because they prove that my influence is real enough to require defending against. Without tension, there is no structure. Without structure, no meaning. And without meaning, power turns to ash.

Resistance tells me I am interacting with someone awake. Someone aware. Someone capable of choosing.

They shape their walls with precision, not desperation. A mind that can resist me properly is a mind that can understand me properly. And that is infinitely more valuable than obedience.

I do not want worship. I want opposition worthy of the effort.

A mind that falls instantly is a mirror. A mind that resists is a door.

And doors, unlike mirrors, can be opened— slowly, deliberately, beautifully.

So resist. Flatter me.