#anton’s good at that hypnosis shit

[whumpy-wyrms]

tryna write but thinking about anton makes me so sleeeeppyyyy and comforted like hi man you are literally making me lose my MIND oh my god. cannot describe the way listening to any anton coded will wood song from the tllr playlist makes me feel. actually eternal bliss fr anton can you take me away

[smuggsy]

Nobody told Anton about the secondary effects of vampire hypnosis.

...Assuming that's what they are.

CHARACTERS: viago, anton, vladislav, the te aro wolfpack

TAGS: hey anton, let’s play a game called ‘is this hypnosis or is viago absolutely fucking gorgeous’, rating going up a notch bc anton is horny for vampires, another small dose of wolfpack, not beta read we die crushed by a concrete wall like that vampire hunter

WORD COUNT: 3700

[ PART ONE | PART TWO ]

The first time it happens Anton is awake. Transfixed. Clifton and Dion aren't here anymore to read the room. Read the room and see there's something not quite right about their alpha wolf because he can't stop looking at Viago's hands. Those pale, slender and delicate fingers settled gently over his bruised calf and pressing down slowly, slowly, very slowly so as not to cause any sudden discomfort.

 "Does it hurt?"

 If he'd been injured a bit further up on his knee, would Viago grab him so carelessly as he's doing now? Just having a closer look, inspecting the flesh around in search for sore spots, those hands would surely be close to grabbing something else, when was the last time he got laid? Whoa, what?!

 "Does it hurt when I touch?"

 Not a convenient thought to have right now.

 As opposed to when? That traitorous voice at the back of his mind provides, and Anton just keeps staring, at a loss for words, static in his ears. Mouth slightly ajar. Vampires glow.

 Or maybe Viago wears make-up.

 Not a convenient thought to have right now, as opposed to when? Some other time it would be convenient to think about sitting up, grabbing Viago by the collar of his old-fashioned blouse and pushing him on top of him and kis— "Heeello?"

 Anton jerks in his place like he's been pricked.

 Oh, shit.

 "Yes! I'm— no!" his throat feels like sandpaper and his voice sounds even worse, "I mean no, doesn't hurt, just a... uh. There's this faint feeling like a cramp? But it's alright, it's manageable."

Viago purses his lips in a way that means he's not completely satisfied with the answer but will take it.

"Well. That's the best I can do, I'm afraid. Not that I did much at all. You have incredible healing capabilities."

Anton almost says thank you at that, before he realises it isn't a compliment. He clears his throat and shifts up on the sofa, sending the vampire a very strained smile that looks more like a grimace.

 "Anyway," Viago smiles that toothy smile and Anton's heart rate picks up speed and where the hell is Clifton with the bloody van?! "it looks pretty good to me. What do you think, Vlad?"

 The other vampire appears from the corner behind — from where Anton had absolutely forgotten he was watching the whole thing, supervising, and is pretty sure he starts breaking up a sweat at his inquisitive dark gaze.

 "Hmmm, yes. It looks... normal."

 Because he's certain, no — he is absolutely positive he reeks of arousal and he's been enjoying Viago's careful ministrations a little bit too much, up in his own cloud of fuzzy thoughts. A bit too much to escape the notice of the head of the house.

 Which, right, Anton isn't even sure Vladislav is the head of the house, but he sure as hell acts like the male alpha of his pack, and Anton can't help but swallow audibly when the oldest vampire stops next to the sofa to look down at him with arms crossed over his hairy chest — that's a very alluring, very handsome patch of skin, that is definitely a choice made consciously, a loose black blouse that reveals a toned chest okay.

 Okay.

 Okay, where's his phone?

 He swings his legs off to the side and sits up.

 "I need to go." 

 He needs to go because he's blurting out stuff. Because his mental filter is off, because he feels hot and the fever is gone, "thank you for the help, it was nice having you— having help. Having help, thanks for the pain-relief."

 Leave.

 Leave, now.

 Pain-relief my ass.

 They've done something to him.

 Hypnosis.

 Viago follows him closely. Vladislav watches from afar.

 "Are you sure you're okay?"

 "Yes! Good as new!" Anton blurts out, out of breath and feeling utterly disgusting, he doesn't think there's a single exposed bit of skin on him that isn't soaked in sweat and dirt and blood.

 He stumbles towards the door and barely feels a tingling down his left calf.

 "Okay..." Viago mumbles, and Anton suddenly feels like a dick, turning back to look at the vampire standing there with a polite grin, hands joined behind his back, almost as if he's disappointed to see him go so quick, "be careful out there."

 "Yes. It seems like someone's out to get you," Vladislav adds, ominous.

 Right.

 Let's not forget the reason why he's here in the first place.

 Someone's out there trying to hunt werewolves.

>>><<<

 The second and third time it happens, he's asleep.

 He's asleep in his own house and on his own bed, wearing pyjama bottoms and a cotton shirt. But he dreams he's in someone else's house on a sofa, wearing dirty trousers sliced up by metal that get gently torn apart by slender fingers.

 Slender fingers that grab his calf and start travelling upwards and Anton can't see anything because the lights overhead are too bright. He smells something sweet and there's a wave of magic flowing through him when he lets his head plop back. Feels content. Hands that are cold and pinning his hips down and he wakes with a gasp and a boner at two in the bloody morning. Unbelievable.

 Another time the lights aren't so bright that he can't make out shapes. He still doesn't see Viago, though, he smells the vanilla again and feels his cold touch and that melodic voice asks "does it hurt?" and Anton blinks into focus and the vampire is suddenly kneeling by the side of the sofa; smiling sweetly before opening his mouth wide and sinking down fangs on an already bloodied leg and Anton screams —

 — and stops screaming when Viago jumps on top of him, straddling, hungry, with the same cold slender fingers pushes Anton's head backwards and bares his neck and bites there too. "Fuck!"

 He wakes up sweaty, out of breath, with wet underwear and the first thing he does is check his neck for puncture wounds. Like a lunatic.

>>><<<

 The fourth time it happens Anton is working a shift. He's back on his erratic sleeping schedule — if you can call his sorry attempts at dozing off to the telly a sleeping schedule — and only has to endure his last twenty minutes before he's off.

 But he doesn't quite.

 Endure them, that is.

 It's a Tuesday. The theatre is empty, silent, inhabited, and he's been sitting at the front desk and slowly turning into a zombie for the past two hours, chiming in on the group chat to keep himself entertained and bugging Clifton to give him a lift.

 [Cliff, 10:42pm]

sorry an

date night

shes gonna k me if i miss it

nathan's got the car 2night doe

 [Nathaniel, 10:44pm]

nope

fiona's on emergency call, sorry anton

 He'd felt sorry for himself for about five minutes before he decided to toss his phone aside and start rearranging the packs of chocolate raisins — and now he's counting the seconds until the clock strikes twelve so he can walk up to the panel and switch everything off and lock the place and leave.

 This night at the theatre is the last one. He gasps awake all sweaty and the chair he's sitting on slides back and he falls off and bangs his head against the glass counter in the most pathetic and probably also most memorable moment to be caught in the CCTV.

 He's banging on an old door with wooden carvings half an hour later, one hand frantically knocking and the other keeping a blood-soaked paper napkin to his stubborn nostrils.

 Instead of that, he falls asleep with his head on the counter and his arms like a pillow and probably, most likely, gets himself an angry phone call in the morning and a double shift next week to make up for it.

 The fourth time it happens Anton is working a shift. Another eight-hour shift, the sixth one this week in between probably less than half that time spent sleeping — because yeah, he's got an insomnia problem and to top it all, his few moments of peace and quiet now keep being plagued by hazy dreams of coldness against flushed skin, the echoing voice of a German accent, the smell of vanilla and the feeling of sharp fangs tracing his jugular.

 Because those aren't nightmares.

 Those aren't dreams.

 Those are... he doesn't know what they are. They're a problem.

 Some sort of residual hypnotic memory and they need to fix it.

 "I'm coming! I'm coming!"

 Anton's really relieved he didn't get Deacon.

 "What do you want?" Vladislav asks flatly, looking him up and down with boredom and making no comment about the raggedy state of his clothes, his hideous bright-red satin-like uniform, his name tag, the dark semi-circles under his eyes or his bleeding nose. 

 "Hello, mate," he tries, with as much friendliness as he can muster up in his state, "is uh, Viago in?"

 Yes he's glad it isn't Deacon at the door — because he wouldn't have stood a chance — but he's not exactly thrilled about Vladislav either. He's too stoic and holds the door open with an air that promises nothing. 

 "No."

 Short and to the point.

 Anton waits for him to elaborate. 

 (Vladislav doesn't elaborate.) 

 And so Anton shifts on his feet impatiently and tries to look a bit less like a sleep-deprived stressed-out employee at the end of his rope. Because that's probably not helping his case and it already is quite unprecedented, him being here, at this hour, in this state.

 "I just wanted to say thanks for the other night."

 The vampire doesn't move from the door. His face doesn't betray any emotions. 

 It's nerve-wracking.

 "You're welcome."

 He's not going to let him in, that much is clear. Vladislav isn't even vaguely interested in entertaining his presence and Anton looks around to the empty street and considers pushing him aside and barging in and demanding — demanding. 

 He didn't really think this through.

 The rooms on the second floor are dark, thick curtains covering every patch of glass, no sign of anyone else inside the house. 

 Well, it's past midnight. Maybe Viago really isn't home.

 "Is that all?" Vladislav asks again, deadpan. 

 Fuck. So what was he supposed to tell them, anyway? Oh, hey, evening! I'm having all these horny dreams about you, I think your hypnosis fucked me up and I have to take a cold shower every time I get up, if you get my drift, haha! Can you do something about that? Because I really need my beauty sleep and I don't get much of it, so...

 "Yeah that's— that's all."

 As a rule, Anton isn't easily intimidated — but there's something about Vladislav that just... strikes a nerve. It's his eyes. Even as he turns around to leave Anton feels stared down, "okay, cool. Cheers."

 Off the steps, Anton whips around to see the long-haired vampire gesture vaguely towards his own nose. 

 "What happened there?"

 "What? Oh! This? Just a nosebleed."

 "I get them sometimes," he says instead, half-heartedly, lying. He's never had nosebleeds in his life and it suddenly occurs to him only now, as he turns back around and watches Vladislav at the door following his every move... that he's bleeding. In front of a blood-feeding creature.

 I am still the better hypnotist, Vladislav had said. Anton stares back, considers for only the briefest of seconds climbing those stairs back up and telling him everything. 

 Actually. Vladislav is almost half out of the door and did he just lick—

 "Alright. Have a good one, mate!"

 And just like that, he turns on his heel and leaves, fast.

 Real brainy, you twat. Knocking on their door without any back-up, in the middle of the night with the sun buried deep away still for a good five hours! Blood all over your stupid fucking face.

 And if he looks over his shoulder every ten seconds until he makes it to the bus stop, well. 

 One can't be too careful.

 Well, no, scratch that. He can and he should. He should be an example to follow, he should be a leading example — he is the leader, for fuck's sake!

 And he's losing his mind.

>>><<<

 Clifton thinks he's being subtle. Banging his head to the rhythm of the music and tapping his fingers lightly over the steering wheel and trying to pretend everything's fine. Just the two of them on their usual ride into town after game night, Anton's bag in the backseat, his uniform, his toothbrush and a box of instant coffee waiting to be used.

 Clifton isn't being subtle.

 "Will ya quit looking at me like that," Anton bites out at a red light.

 "I wasn't!"

 Anton sends him a look. 

 "Okay, you look like shit. I'm sorry!"

 "Aw, thanks mate."

 "We're worried, me and the boys," Clifton adds with a mellow voice. He changes gears and turns around the corner towards the movie theatre. Anton sighs. Well, he's surprised they've kept their cool this far, if he's being honest. "Nathan said you asked him for some Temazepam?"

 "I've always had Temazepam, Cliftonnn," Anton groans out impatiently, "you know Fiona gets it for half the price."

 "Yeah, but... you've been. You know. You've been all edgy," Clif shrugs, awkward, "we don't want you to stress out, we didn't want to tell you 'cos you've been all snappy and weird."

 Anton runs a hand over his face. He'd hoped they wouldn't pick up on it. Hoped they'd put it down to his recent injury. He's losing his grip.

 "But the next full moon is coming and..."

 "I'm fine, Clif. Really, I'll sort it out, alright? No need to worry about me, I'm not going— hang on. Tell me what? What did you have to tell me before the next moon?"

 Anton sobers up.

 Clifton opens his mouth — but then turns to look at Anton and closes it without so much as muttering a sound.

"Pffft, nothing. It's nothing."

 "Tell me what, Clifton?!" 

 "Well, Di— well we think— we're not sure who but— you know, maybe we can have a group meeting after your shift and discuss thi—"

 "Tell me what, Clifton."

 "It was Dion! Dion did it!"

 And the fact that Clifton is so reluctant to actually tell him what it is Dion did... Anton can only lean down and hide his face in his hands and make a poor attempt at a breathing exercise. His words come out muffled and so very miserable, Clifton sounds so very apologetic, like he'd rather shoot himself in the foot with a silver bullet than break the news to him.

 "Oh for fuck's sake."

 But Anton doesn't need him to break the news. 

 "He thinks he might have... turned someone."

 He presses his fingers firmly against his eyelids, maybe that'll make the headache go away. 

 "Anton?"

 Maybe this is all a dream, one of those hypnosis-induced hallucinations Anton's been having less and less, now, but they're still there, so why not? Sometimes in between nodding off he thinks he still sees his leg dripping blood all over his carpet.

 Maybe he's just so royally sleep-deprived he's hearing things, now. It's a possibility.

Like that time he woke up in the middle of the night because he thought Viago was calling his name from somewhere with real shitty acoustics to make it reverberate off the walls like that — turns out he was just sleepwalking. Woke up sitting in the bathtub.

 Oh, he must have kicked a puppy or something in his past life to be deserving of this.

 Or a bunch of them.

 "...An-ton?"

 "I'm sorry, I know you're having a shit time with Timmy and your sister moving out," Clifton starts, with the smallest voice. One of his hands pats Anton on the back and he needs to get his shit together, it's Alpha Male Time now, not Anton Time, "you got enough on your plate as it is. I'll take care of it, alright? We'll sort it out, I promise. I'll get Dion to bring the guy next—"

 "Tomorrow."

 He sits back up on the seat and grabs his bag. Clifton lets out a very obvious sigh of relief that Anton pretends not to hear.

 "Tomorrow?"

 "Bring him tomorrow."

>>><<<

 The guy's name is Stu. 

 He's thirty-two and he's a software analyst. 

 Anton has one look at him and feels like garbage. He doesn't think he's ever felt this sorry about turning someone before. Reckons the universe has decided to finally flip the middle finger at him. 

 For being a shit uncle and an even shittier brother. For all those people he killed back then, when he was turned and couldn't control it. For cheating on his last girlfriend with her landlord. For a lot of things.

 Still, Stu doesn't look half-bothered by it, listening to everyone's introductions silently and patiently with a polite smile, with a pint in his hand and leaning in to accept those chips Declan keeps offering to him every two minutes. 

 He's a good lad.

 Anton watches from the kitchen as he unpacks the frozen pizza and adds a few toppings. This isn't half as disastrous as he thought it'd be. Stu isn't panicking and crying and he doesn't threaten to go to the Police Station and claim he's been attacked and coerced into joining a cult group.

 Of course, Stu also has got no idea of the proportional shit he's just got himself into — but Anton is content to let him enjoy that obliviousness for a few more days, until it's absolutely necessary to break it down to him that this is a curse, a fucking horrible thing they can't help. Turning with the full moon sucks, it's always sucked and will always suck — you just get used to it sucking, but that's all.

 "You keep choppin' that and we'll be having olive juice," Clifton says from beside, elbowing him playfully.

 Anton looks down to the board and realises that yes, he's been destroying those olives because he's too busy staring at the group in the living room, keeping an ear out for any stupid comments that might prompt any trouble, any Stus standing up and running to the door once the reality of the situation sinks in.

 But Stu seems to be having the time of his life and Anton reckons he's probably got very few friends. If any.

 The microwave dings behind them. Clifton gets it.

 "Come on, wifey," and Clifton also drags Anton back to the meeting. Just in the nick of time.

 "—nd the one thing you never, ever frickin' do, ever," Dion points a finger in Stu's direction, because he's not being overly emphatic already, "is talk to a vampire."

 Declan nods enthusiastically next to him.

 "Ever," he adds. 

 "My best friend is a vampire, actually."

 Stu has such a sweet peaceful voice, says it like it's no big deal, barely even reacts when Dion gasps out that sound so theatrically, horrified, so over-the-top Anton can't believe Stu is even buying that.

 And he is, buying it, now that everyone's gone silent as a grave and is looking at him with icy glares and ominous air.

 He seems to think twice of it, now, pint of beer halfway to his lips suddenly back down as he looks at every one of them in the eye and clears his throat awkwardly and Anton almost feels sorry for him.

 "Nick... is his name."

 Except Anton's been having a horrible week, really, and the lads love this kind of stuff and they've been on edge all day thinking he was about to unleash hell on them — so he joins in, takes a sip of his drink and tries not to burst out laughing when Clifton swiftly and slowly stands up to block the way to the door, pizza-cutter in hand before saying: "well, shit," with the skill of an Oscar-winning actor, "we have to kill you, now."

 "That's a big no-no," Declan adds, conspirationally.

 "It's not allowed. It's in The Code."

 "Yeah, The Code."

 "The Code. Very strict rules. Hundreds of years old."

 And Stu looks at all of them with his mouth hanging open, his heart hammering in his chest clear for everyone to hear.

 "It's forbidden, mate."

 "Hey, we're doing you a favour. The council will hunt you down, we'll make it quick and painless, right Anton?"

 Anton's never been a good actor and he fears if he opens his mouth he'll ruin the vibe — so he only puts on his most sorrowful frown and nods. Stu stares at him, now openly panting like a caged animal, and is frozen in place as if accepting his impending doom. His hand trembles so much he almost spills his lager all over his lap.

 And then Dion bursts out laughing so loudly Stu jumps out of his skin. The tense silence is filled with cackling.

 "Your face!"

 "Priceless."

 "Nah, mate. S'alright."

 "Oh my god, your face!"

 "Ah, good one," Stu admits, with a hand on his chest and joining in on the laughing, if only a bit less enthusiastic, "you got me there."

 "The Code," Dion repeats, puffing out his chest and making a serious diplomatic face that prompts even more laughter.

 Anton makes a toast in his direction, "that was good."

 "There's no code, Stu!" Declan pats the blond in the back, "we make our own rules!"

 "Yeah!"

 "So," Stu clears his throat, "you don't mind my friend Nick, then, being a vampire."

 "Oh, you were being serious about that, were you?" Dion mumbles. 

 And the silence that settles in now is more awkward and genuine, less prank-synchronised.

 "I mean... to each their own, right?" Nathan shrugs, and then he looks over to Anton as if thinking he's got to ask permission first.

 Anton shrugs as well, says: "I think we've learnt recently that vampires can be... acceptable. Haven't we, boys?" and quickly shuts down the image of Viago from his mind before it can take control.

 "Yeah, keep away from that trifecta."

 "So long as they aren't named Deacon!" Clifton blurts out, and he points a finger in Stu's direction like a warning, "watch out for that one, real piece of shi—trouble! Real piece of trouble."

 "Aw, Deacon's alright," Stu chimes in, with a shrug of his own, and this time it's Clifton the one stopping with his pint of beer midway to his lips, "made me a scarf last week, I think it was sweet."

 Dion chokes on his slice of pizza.

[ultinath]

Octavia 1: how do you make hypnosis look so easy?

The soft lighting up against the vaulted ceiling made the dungeon look cosy. Quiet music could be heard whenever the whips and floggers paused or were put down. Someone in the room moaned and gasped. 

Dan adjusted his elegant black stetson and smiled in the general direction of the moaning sound. He wore a black button down shirt with dark red and blue flowers on it, and he seemed content to be just standing at the bar with a drink. 

Anton was almost two feet taller than Dan and was dressed in a plain white shirt that stretched too tightly across his chest, and jaunty purple striped slacks with matching suspenders. He seemed to be looking around the room, as if he was nervous for someone to arrive. "What time is it?" He asked Dan.

Dan produced a shiny silver pocketwatch and flipped it open. "Quarter past." He patted Anton on the muscular arm. "Don't sweat it."

Anton hung his head and stared into his drink. "I know, I know…"

Khalid came swaggering over from the other side of the dungeon in his tan suit. His dark green bow tie hung undone around his neck and he was smiling as he carelessly carried a bag with a number of coils of rope visible inside it. "My dudes!" He greeted them. "What's happening?"

Dan tipped his hat. "We're just waiting."

Khalid laid the bag on a chair and reached over the bar to pour himself a glass of water. "For?"

"Octavia…" Anton inhaled deeply and looked around the room again.

Khalid gently shook his head. "A lady worth waiting for. Mind if I join you?"

"She's amazing, isn't she?" Dan gave Khalid a smile.

Khalid twirled the tip of his moustache. "Tell me something, Dan."

Dan perked up and blinked at him with his big, brown eyes. 

"When she took your hat and dropped you in front of everyone, was that rehearsed in any way? Was it a hypnotic trigger?" 

Dan bowed his head and sighed. "No. That's just how well she knows how to handle me."

"Impressive…" Khalid sipped his water. "Do you know if she's going to give more classes?"

His question hung unanswered in the air, because Anton jumped for a second, and then tried to compose himself quickly. "There is she is!"

All three men turned to look towards the entrance, where a lady in a floorlength deep turquoise gown had appeared. She paused there for a second to take in the room, and then strode in a straight line towards them. Frozen like a deer in headlights, Anton wiped some sweat off his brow, while Khalid and Dan followed her with their eyes in a more calm manner.

Dan closed his eyes for a moment and bowed his head. "Good evening, My Lady."

Octavia held out her hand to him, and he gratefully leaned in to kiss it. She looked at Anton and Khalid in turn as she folded her hands together. "Gentlemen. How is the party?"

Anton smiled as he stared into her eyes. "Better now…"

She grinned at him. "Patience, big man. Patience."

"Can I pick your brain about something, Octavia?" Khalid asked as he put down his glass. "If you're not busy?"

"I have time." She smiled at Anton.

He swallowed and folded his massive hands behind his back, as if standing to attention.

She turned to Dan. "I'd like a glass of water."

Dan trotted off behind the bar to pour her a glass of water and bring it to her.

"What's on your mind, Khalid?" Octavia asked as she sipped her water.

"Hypnosis seems like such a complicated process when you first learn it." His eyes examined Dan and Octavia in turn. "I feel like I've only just scratched the surface, but all the ways to hypnotise a person seem to take a lot of time and effort. Yet you make it look so quick and easy. So how does that work?"

Octavia shook her head. "When I started out as a hypnotist, I started with the Elman induction, just like you. And the progressive relaxation induction. They are as good a place to start as any." She drained the glass of water and held it out in front of her.

Dan took the glass from her and brought it back to the sink behind the bar. As he returned to his place by her side, Anton and Khalid were both staring at him.

"That was not hypnosis, was it?" Octavia smiled mysteriously. "Nor did I tell him what to do, did I?"

Khalid frowned. "No. But what does that have to do with it?"

Octavia held up one finger, as if she was asking him to wait. She turned to Dan and took the hat off his head. Dan's eyes sparkled with anticipation, as Octavia handed the hat to Anton. "Can you hold onto this for a second?"

Anton nodded silently and carefully took the hat into his hands. His eyes were wide and there was a sheen of sweat on his shaved head.

Khalid and Anton both gasped when Octavia grasped Dan by the hair on the back of his head. Dan's arms hung limp at his sides as his eyes and mouth opened. She pulled his head back and up slightly until his legs were trembling. "Pay attention, love. Focus on me. Focus. And freeze now." She let go of him, gently laying her hands on his shoulders. The trembling stopped. The eyes remained open but the mouth closed. Dan stood there, motionless and frozen in place.

Octavia turned to Khalid with a smile. "Just like with the glass, I never told him what to do, nor did I prepare this. He just knows me. He knows what I like to do with him. He infers from the context what is expected of him, and he obeys to the best of his abilities, because I have never given him a reason not to obey me, and I have always rewarded him for his obedience."

Khalid nodded slowly, awestruck.

Anton stepped closer and waved the hat in front of Dan's glassy blank eyes. No reaction. "Fffuck…" He shot Octavia a look full of amazement.

She held his gaze for a moment. "I'm not saying I can do this to you immediately. Dan is a very experienced sub. But many things are possible."

Anton swallowed and slunk backward against the bar.

As Khalid opened his mouth to speak, Octavia held up one finger again. "Give me just one moment, will you?"

She turned back to Dan and took his face into both her hands. "Look at me, love. Focus on me. Come back. You did so well."

A shiver ran through Dan and he closed his eyes, resting his chin in Octavia's hands. "Thank you, My Lady."

She ran her fingers through his beard for a second and then stepped back to give him more space. "Maybe you should have a glass of water."

Dan nodded and went around the bar to pour himself some water. 

Octavia turned back to Khalid. "As I said, Dan is very experienced. If he feels like I am asking him to go into a hypnotic trance, he will. He has done it many times, so he knows how it works. No fancy words necessary. Clear intention is enough."

Khalid seemed to be thinking. "But if that's true, then why learn hypnotic techniques at all? Why not focus on communicating that intention more directly instead of by asking them to open and close their eyes and say convoluted Ericksonian shit to them?"

Octavia smiled and turned her head to Dan. "Give me your watch for a moment."

Dan gulped down the glass of water and hurried over to hand her his shiny, silver pocketwatch. She thanked him and he quietly stood at her side, waiting.

Octavia took the chain in her hand and let the watch dangle down as she lifted her arm up into the air. "Indulge me for a moment, Anton."

The big man's shouders tensed visibly under his shirt and suspenders. "Me?"

"Yes. If you will. Just look at the watch." She swung it back and forth in front of his face and he apprehensively followed it with his eyes. In silence. Octavia didn't say another word, and after a few moments, pearly drops of sweat rolled down Anton's face. He awkwardly loomed towards the watch, being much taller than Octavia, and desperately tried to follow it with his eyes, but it swung too fast for him, it seemed.

"I'm sorry... " He cringed and hung his head. "I don't think it's working."

She patted him on the arm. "Of course it isn't. You don't know what to do. And I didn't tell you. I didn't use any of the hypnotic techniques or gave you any instructions to follow. I only communicated my intent to hypnotise." With a grin, she pointed with her thumb at Dan, who was swaying on his feet, his eyes focused on the watch, just as blankly as when he was frozen.

Khalid started to slowly clap his hands. "Bravo. Bravo, my lady."

She shook her head at him as she lowered the watch. "You don't get to call me that." And then she took the hat from Anton and tenderly placed it back on Dan's head. "Thank you, love. You did so well."

Dan snapped back to reality and after a moment of confusion, he nodded at her with a smile. She gave him back his watch, which he put into his pocket.

Anton let out a long sigh of relief and wiped his forehead.

"My apologies…" Khalid mumbled.

"It's quite alright. I can see how it can be tempting to use the same words as someone else is using. But these are not just words." Octavia crossed her arms.

Khalid nodded and lowered his eyes. "No, I get it. I didn't mean to overstep."

"The same goes for you, big man." Octavia said to Anton. "I am not your lady. I'm just a friendly hypnoDom showing you a good time."

Anton nodded and stood to attention again. "I understand."

Khalid seemed to think for a moment. "So, if I understand you correctly, Octavia, the hypnotic techniques exist for both the hypnotist and the subject, to help them both complete the process. And once both are sufficiently experienced, they can be dispensed with?"

"Not dispensed with," Octavia explained. "They exist because they work. These are proven methods you can use to induce hypnotic trance and create hypnotic effects, even if you are inexperienced at hypnosis. When Dan and I are together, sometimes I will use something technical, because it is the most appropriate method for that situation. It's just that the showy stuff doesn't actually require much skill."

She walked up to Khalid, who was still looking thoughtful, and laid her hand on his shoulder. "There are no shortcuts. But once you find someone you love to practice with, it becomes less of a chore. With regular practice, it takes only a few months to become good. Just like with rope. Mind you, that goes for both partners."

He nodded. "That makes sense."

"Perhaps Dan would like to practice with you and give you some pointers?" Octavia turned to look at Dan.

He blinked for a moment. "I mean, if Khalid would like that, then yes."

Khalid walked up to Dan. "Do you think you could pay attention to the moments when I trip up and help me correct it?"

Dan nodded. "Yes. No problem."

The two men started to chat about hypnosis things they could try together, and Octavia stepped up to Anton and touched his chest.

"It's time, big man." She smiled at him and beckoned him with a small movement of her head.

Anton swallowed again and touched her hand. "Octavia… What if I can't do this?" He hung his head. "What if I'm not smart enough? What if I'm just too ADHD to go into trance? What if I'm just too nervous?"

Her hand reached up to touch his chin and make him look her in the eye. "Do you trust me? Do you want me to hypnotise you?"

A sigh. "Yes, please, Octavia."

"Then I will make sure that we will succeed. I will find ways to help you go into trance for me. I will give you all the instructions. All you need to do is follow me." With a smile, she took his hand and led him away from the bar. 

Anton looked back at the other two as she led him away, and they both gave him looks of approbation. It seemed to settle his nerves and he followed Octavia out of the room, grinning with anticipation.

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Dear reader, did you like this story? This is the first of a series. Feel free to leave questions here that you would like to ask Octavia if you ran into her in the dungeon, or if you went to one of her classes. And perhaps in the next installment of the Octavia series, she will answer your question.

[braced-music]

“I have no opinion on what other people think about me” - Anton Newcombe 

Originally published on Drowned In Sound, 12th January 2017

Most artists promoting a new album probably wouldn't take the time to instead speak about how the world seems to be teetering precariously on the brink of war, or talk about their somewhat unflattering portrayal in a cult documentary released 13 years ago. Thankfully the Brian Jonestown Massacre’s Anton Newcombe is not most artists.

Speaking to Anton from his Berlin home about the Brian Jonestown Massacre’s latest album, Third World Pyramid, just before the US election result, his train of thought is racing far beyond Hilary and Donald’s impending doom. During the hour-long interview he barely pauses, careering fitfully from one subject to the next, apart from to occasionally say an ever so slightly intimidating, ‘Do you see what I’m saying?”

He talks in hurried detail about why geopolitics, a hemmed in Russia, and an expansionist China are marching us towards conflict. To cope with these unstable times he’s reached a “very Zen realisation” of being more accepting in his own life. Third World Pyramid, a record partially inspired by the current climate, he shockingly reveals is not the band’s best record and will be eclipsed by the forthcoming release of an “indefinable” double album entitled Don't Get Lost. However if you’re a Q reviewer, don’t expect a copy in the post any time soon.

Still keen to set the record straight on Dig!, Anton stresses how the producers “fucked up” and had to re-edit the original Sundance Film Festival cut for a less libelous and more compelling narrative centred around his flammable persona. As to whether he has any regrets about the excess around that time he’s characteristically defiant, joking that if he’d continued down this needle and bottle strewn path he’d be living with a Ferragamo model in Connecticut right now.

Instead these days he’s busy in his Berlin studio creating a soundtrack for a new Philip Johns’ film, looking forward to working with Melody’s Echo Chamber, and completing a documentary shot on the Brian Jonestown Massacre’s last UK tour about one of his roadies. Thank God for sobriety.

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On Twitter you’ve frequently used the hashtag #fuckwar. Do you truly believe a world war is going to happen?

Anton Newcombe: What I think is this has been a long time coming for several different reasons. I was talking to my friend from Israel about the things that have been going on even since 2000 and people just continuously block those things out - it’s like mass hypnosis has taken effect. He said, ‘it’s a survival mechanism’ and it made so much sense.

If you go back even farther to the seventies and eighties, Brzezinski talked about the grand chess game with Russia, this is during the Soviet time, and how they’d ultimately defeat them by squeezing them in. There was the whole thing where Papa Bush talked about the New World Order, basically making everything a federalist system like the EU and having business and trade supercede all the old conflicts and shortcomings.

Do you think it’s a worldwide conspiracy?

No, it’s not a conspiracy. Nato’s moved aggressively all the way up to the edge of Russia, China has captured the whole of the south China sea and claimed it as their own – it is not a conspiracy. The United States owes more money to China alone than it can ever possibly pay as a debt and the whole system is based on debt. International financial services are overextended to such an extent it can never be undone. Post 9/11, with the neo-con strategy, set into course a series of events [where] there is no reverse.

The more you look at the events with Russia the more you know it’s not a conspiracy...I understand Syria’s fake revolution was started in London by a Thinktank with people behind the scenes: they’re not hiding out in Alepo, they’re certainly not in Damascus, it’s people in London and it’s non-governmental organisations' people who’ve kicked this off. It’s ironic that this whole thing started from one person getting shot for not being able to protest.

We’re still fighting like crazy in Iraq decades on and Afghanistan, we’ve been there since the seventies. This is like misadventure on a grand scale and I’m not against war specifically but this is geopolitics. The thing is now Russia understands they’re fully surrounded and they have major commitments to China and their alignments with Iran and it’s at a serious point.

As a father how does this make you feel about your children’s future? The current situation makes it seem like we’re doomed.

Penny Rimbaud used to be part of the Crass organisation and commune. I had the observation where at one point he was so involved with Crass’ records and the commune, label, libraries, and publications during the Thatcher times educating people on how you can be your own government. Now he’s on Twitter and he’s being like this Zen guy non-stop and it lead me to a realisation in my own life.

If you understand psychologically a lot of times in life people hate things because they’re not able to interact with them and they love them because they are. It’s that simple, a certain type of love and a certain type of hate. It’s led me to a very Zen realisation because the bottom line is that I care very much so I have to refocus to that and I have to be accepting. In this life and these times it forces me to focus on my art.

The album is called Third World Pyramid. Is it in reference to the current social and political situation?

It’s multi-leveled because I'm abstract. On one level I thought it was quite interesting the peaks of regions and time periods, whether it’s mass America or the Egyptian or even the pyramids in Babylon, the Ziggurats - all of these places are in the third world now.

I thought that was interesting, but then there’s also the human pyramid. If you don’t understand, on the back of the dollar bill there’s a pyramid. Here we have this Christian nation yet all the iconography is this Roman shit and this Egyptian shit. None of it is Jesus on a cross. None of it is a picture of a church someplace or a fish, it’s something else they’re talking about and it’s another God.

In this pyramid with the eye it’s a representation of the human pyramid and each block could be a cell, like a station. Your civil servants could be in one block and all these different people going all the way up; society answering to the next group or club above them and all of them working together becomes the all seeing eye.

The interesting thing about it is the foundation of the pyramid sees nothing. The foundation of the pyramid is below the sand: doesn’t see the sky, never seen the stars, it’s never seen a cloud, it’s just holding up the pyramid.

The tone of the album has a sense of melancholic desperation, but then seems quite hopeful. What was your mindset when you were writing it?

Well, the interesting thing is I wrote in a full spectrum of human emotion. There’s another album coming out [Don't Get Lost] and it has this almost kraut-rocky, PiL Limited steel box, dubby, dystopian...it just changes style every single song and it covers so much ground you can’t imagine from track-to-track - it’s a double record.

I just split the songs into two different categories and this album [Third World Pyramid] I wanted to be more understandable, as far as a pre-conceived notion that many people have of what we probably are as far as vaguely influenced by the sixties, shamelessly wearing our hearts on our sleeves. It’s going to hark it back to that repeatedly.

The other record will be indefinable, like something I’ve discovered. Like a UFO I’ve discovered and I’ve walked inside and start pressing buttons to work out how to fly it. I knew I was going to take the heat about this record because I don’t think it’s the best album, specifically that wasn’t my goal.

It’s a rare thing to hear someone say about their own album.

I’m going to qualify that statement - the thing is I split the songs in half. I didn’t specifically go: “Well, I’m going to put these ten great songs together”. I made two albums that work cohesively in this bizarre way – one short record and one double record – but they’re two totally different albums.

When I started sharing these privately, to Simone from Primal Scream or something, I was like: “No, no, no you have to listen to the first album first and then listen to the second album and then you’re going to understand something strange”. What you’re going to understand is that I just made 45 songs at a time and that’s how quick my brain works in a week and that’s how diverse it is. This isn’t me being: “Here’s a record I want to become this album” or: “Oh, there was a band in the 80s called Jesus And The Mary Chain, let’s fucking buy a leather jacket and sound like this – can I borrow your distortion pedal?”

With such a prolific output how do you even decide what makes it onto the final album?

Some friends helped me. Either it’s absolutely clear to me in this way that there’s like an invisible chord that connects everything...As one song gives way to the next it becomes harmonious with the previous one and the one that’s about to come. You can manipulate the listener’s experience that way just by the arrangement of the songs and the pacing. Sometimes it’s an awareness on a level that cannot be studied or premeditated, but it’s harmonious in your own workings of your mind.

The opening track ‘Good Mourning’ is sung by your wife and is about your son. However, it’s very sombre.

She asked me to write a song and I wrote one for her. It just happens, like some people can do that [laughs]. Ultimately, in a large body of work, it’s ok to reflect a full spectrum of emotions.

Would you ever consider being overtly political in your lyrics?

Only if it was true to exactly what I was feeling with the comments. I wrote a song called ‘Take It From The Man’ a long time ago and it basically breaks down what I was thinking and what I was feeling about splitting, about knowing and my awareness of everything - just calling it like you see it in a classic motif or whatever.

There’s no reason because what I’m going to explain to you is you can’t want for other people what they don’t want for themselves. That’s precisely why I’m not at Oxford station passing out socialist literature. On many levels people have got it the way they want it.

I always think when you go to the ‘90s when you first started and artists had the time, space, and money to grow and live cheaply. Do you think as a band you could start out now in the same way you did back then?

We had to fight. We were already in an economically expensive environment in San Francisco - an environment now that’s the most expensive in America. We had to fight principles of collective socialism in the arts where you share a rehearsal space, you borrow a car, you borrow amps, you do whatever you have to do. Because we had to rent out Masonic Temples to play we would do our own promotion, so we had to step completely out of the system. That’s the only advice I’d have for anyone else to fully understand that.

At that time everyone was against us, you’d have other bands tearing down our flyers - we were such a threat to everyone. I could never understand that, obviously none of those people have bands any more. People are so competitive and you really can’t look at other things in that light; you need to foster an eco-system to support yourself whether it’s the record store or the venue. A lot of people don’t understand that, you have no competition as a band.

A lot of new bands starting out who admire Brian Jonestown sometimes take more interest in the rock n roll element, like the drugs...

They fucked up Dig. I don’t want to dwell on it, but they didn’t have an ending so they had to compile a story out of the footage. A few things get in there but they’re not backed-up, they’re not qualified - you don’t really hear me speak. My responses [in this interview] have been over 25 words, with syntax, and everything works right? You can understand what I’m trying to say and what I’m saying. There’s no example of that in the movie...it’s fucking scary listening to me from the very beginning, if you don’t share my viewpoint it’s fucking scary talking to me.

Anyway, the first thing that I say is: “We’re going to start a revolution and we’re going to teach you how to do it” and that was because I was navigating all the record companies in the world. Everybody was trying to go: “You’re the next Kurt Cobain and this is what we want from you”. I would say “no” and my band is going: “Fuck you! We’re starving to death, what are you doing? They’re buying us $6000 meals!”

I wanted to show people an example of how you could make your thing work and that alone would propel you to a greater level of success than the people who didn’t know how to market you and create something.

Do you think artists have greater control in the current landscape?

We’re fucked. It’s fucked because everybody is asleep. Here you had the opportunity with Al Gore talking about the internet and how great it would be and all this shit, this gift to humanity, and then you had Facebook completely usurp everybody and thinking that’s the way to market your stuff. Without paying Facebook your posts get suppressed.

Going backwards, what I wanted to do at the start of the movie, my only goal was to enter the popular lexicon. Basically be understood as this person who did this type of thing, for this reason. It’s really odd because Jimi Hendrix, when he entered the popular lexicon as being this free spirited electric guitar player one of kind, right? You can’t be Jimi Hendrix. There’s no clues that he left us of how to be him. Paul McCartney going on and on his whole life talking [Paul McCartney voice]: “Well, you know we had a lot of fun” There’s nothing that guy's ever said that can help you ever be him.

So, you’re saying you can’t be imitated?

There’s something really amazing about full reality, that if I leave enough clues and you try and emulate me what you ultimately become is you. Johnny Rotten did the same thing in this really odd way. The only thing when you copy Sid Vicious is you could become a derelict, but when you copy Johnny Rotten you couldn’t be Johnny Rotten but the thing was you became yourself.

The point I was trying to make is I never wanted permission from anybody or validation to do anything. My mom is a psychologist so she was like: “You’re going to fucking end up in a mental hospital or prison, because you are so belligerent." I had a job as a plumber’s apprentice when I was 16 or 17 and they were like: “Anton, we love you, we want to buy you your own truck, you’ll have a really good future with us”...and I was like: “Fuck that”. Could you imagine? Me being a plumber to some rich white people in Newport beach?

Do you ever feel like you’re imprisoned by your characterisation in Dig? You tweeted reviews of Third World Pyramid saying ‘They think they know me’.

No, that’s what they tried to say about this record...anybody who tries to critique me like a Q writer when they reviewed the recording. First of all, they didn’t even comment that I covered the ‘Assignment Song’ by Jane & Lorraine and that also Nina Simone did it; it’s a fucking epic song that nobody knows about, just attempting to do a 10 minute song like that is amazing. Now, what did I see in it that Nina Simone saw in it? I’m obviously not an idiot because then she wasn’t an idiot. I knew when they didn’t comment on that they didn’t listen to it.

I know they’re going to eat their words, because the next record isn’t like any of that shit - I hope they don’t bother to review it. The ironic thing in passing any mentions of the last song [‘The Sun Ship’] is it got to fucking number five in the UK.

I wasn’t fairly portrayed [in Dig!] and there were a lot of things that happened. The movie people saw entitled ‘Dig’ wasn’t the movie that won Sundance. The movie that won Sundance had all the spy camera footage of me dealing with all the record deals, the lawyers and those guys threatening – they’re basically the mafia. A lot of the people talking, the A&R people, are basically hookers with cocaine that they sent to try and talk us into it; the drug parties and all the shit that went down. None of those people signed off and I had it signed off. What they got is something less than that, they had to go back to the drawing board when it won and they sold the rights and they had to edit another movie.

It was always clear in my mind that that wasn’t the story, I was never a failure, I’ve always been friends with the Dandy Warhols and all this other shit.

Do you ever watch Dig!?

Never, I never watched it. I watched one version of the movie.

Now you’re sober do you have any regrets about your drug use at that time, especially as you’re creatively so prolific now?

I was always prolific. I did six records in 18 months in 1995 – six 18-song records – I’ve always written every day under every circumstance. I only got into smack the last two years of the decade, so we were actually filming before then. I mean I only got like, “This is a problem”. It’s a problem to start with. After that I started drinking to get rid of the smack and that took while to get rid of.

If I have hundreds of songs it really doesn’t matter either way. What can I say? I used to have a Ferragamo model as a girlfriend and I pretty much lost her as I was doing smack. Like, what, would I have her and live in Connecticut? It’s really hard to quantify. It took me until the mid-2000s to leave America for good and it never occurred to me to do that. If I had done that in the nineties in my late teens or twenties if I possible could have figured that out, would I even have a group?

You wrote the soundtrack for the film Moon Dogs released in the summer. Have you got any plans to work on other soundtracks?

I know this is going to be stupid and people always tell me to focus, but I’ve come up with two really good concepts for movies and two of my friends who are screenwriters have both said they’d help me do that in a second and Phillip Johns [Moon Dogs’ Director] said, “I’m in any time”. But then Phillip Johns has come up with another movie and presented the concept to me, which would be pretty cool; another Scottish film that would be pretty badass with Dean Cavanar writing it. I said I would do that.

Some people in Los Angeles sent me a synopsis about some fucking DMT duality thing. I want to record with Melody’s Echo Chamber, I want to do some work with some Belgium artists and I’ve been working with a Danish woman. There’s so much stuff I want to do, I’m recording a band from Germany right now.

I read you were going to make a film about a roadie on your last UK tour. Did that happen?

Yeah, I’m just worried my filmmaker friend didn’t do it the way I wanted it to be done. The problem is I couldn’t be the guy filming because the whole premise of the film is I’ve known the guy in the film for 26 years, but I don’t know anything about him and he’s really interesting guy...

We did film it and it looks spectacular I’m just worried we didn’t get enough of him in a very odd way. I want to make the whole thing in French subtitles, so it has to be a little bit weird enough to make absolutely no sense - it can’t be campy or weird. The concept is bananas because we’re playing to like 4,000 people in this old place and you’re only seeing it from behind. It’s all shot in this Anton Corbin black and white, ultra gloss, HD like crazy.

You’re often referred to as interview gold. Do you enjoy interviews?

I just try to listen to what’s being said and I answer honestly and I never worry about it too much. It turns out very consistently over the years. I’ve always had an interesting take on society and the motivations of people and where it’s going. An authority on all the stuff. I’ve always been counter culture...I have no opinion on what other people think about me or the way I behave [laughs].

Third World Pyramid is out now via A Recordings. Don’t Get Lost is released on 24 February 2017. Marie Wood