#hallucinations tw

[xan-izme]

Double life 13 (ATSV x reader x batfam)

summary: You can't get a break. Not even for a second

TW: Angst, mental health issues, cursing, hallucinations, mentions of death

Part 12, Part 14

Bruce was the world's greatest detective. And a father. So, he was bound to pick up on a few things. He had suspicions of you hiding something. But he assumed it was due to it being an effect of losing your mother.

But ever since Jason began to stay at the manor longer than a day or two(which was surprising) he began to notice small things. He began to notice how you two would often be together. Not as often as you were with Damian of course. But wherever you were Jason was there as well.

He assumed you two were just getting along. And he was happy about that. But he would catch you two giving each other small knowing looks. The two of you whispering to each other or giving each other signals.

Yes, everyone else in the house does this with each other as well. But the way you and Jason would do it was more like a secret. A secret only you two would have with each other. Maybe it was some inside joke or some odd bonding thing you two had.

Bruce tried not to pry into your life too much. Especially after the argument you two had.

But the more he sat and thought about the argument instead of sulking. Something he said to you ticked you off. Of course, his words got you pissed, but he has this, itching feeling that his words meant far more than you led on.

So, he put you in therapy. And might have bribed the therapist to install a nanny-cam so he can see and listen in on your sessions. . . yes not his most honorable moment. But that itching feeling just kept growing and growing.

So, every session you had. He was watching. And he was slowly seeing you in a more, brighter light. You would laugh as you crack up jokes. Your smile made him smile. The way you would play with some of the toy's Mrs. Dean had warmed his heart. (He might have bought a few dozen plushies to give to you soon)

You spoke about him. And you had no resentment. You even spoke about how you wanted to apologize to him. How you felt like you were in the wrong.

Bruce honestly felt like he didn't deserve you at this point. You were so kindhearted. You spoke about him and everyone else with so much love.

But don't think Bruce didn't pick up those small moments of hesitations. When Mrs. Dean would try and dig deeper into you in any emotional way involving just you. There would be this, small pause that felt like more than a minute. The look in your eyes. The same look he saw you with at that party with your mother's side of the family.

He knows that look far too well.

You hate yourself.

This realization. Kind of broke him a little. His little girl hates herself. Why didn't he see this sooner? he feels like a fool. He's trying to piece everything together. Why would you hate yourself. Your perfect. A little broken. But that just makes Bruce love you more.

As he's trying to piece things together. To understand fully of what was going on with you. There were always blank spots that he couldn't fill in. This was a puzzle. I not a hard one but not easy either. He was able to dig deeper in on you.

He went as far as to hacking into your phone. Yes. His overstepping it but he wasn't going into your messages or socials. Only your call history and photos. It was very sad to see most of your recent calls were to your mother's number, of course those calls were not answered.

Your photos were filled with family pictures and- odd. Pictures that seemed to be in an almost hidden file was filled with unfamiliar faces. He scans the faces through his system. But he found nothing. That, that was odd.

Tim walked into the Batcave, he wanted to report to Bruce and tell him he was going to be playing games with you tonight instead of going out on patrol. As he walked down the stairs. He hears what sounds like a recording of a woman talking.

He's brow arched up curiously as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Bruce doesn't seem to notice him yet.

"You don't seem to be the type to hold a grudge."

The voice of the woman who spoke just now was unfamiliar to Tim.

"Oh no. I hold grudges."

Another voice spoke. Younger. It sounded a lot like. . .

"If I fully give you my trust and loyalty. I expect it not to be broken or abused."

It was you. A recording of you speaking to someone. Why would Bruce be listening to this.

"Uh . . .Bruce?" Tim finally spoke up. Bruce turns around, looking a little like he was caught off guard. Too focused on listening to the recording. Tim walked closer looking confused.

"What are you-" Tim was cut off as your voice was heard once again.

"If I give my trust and loyalty to someone. I give them my heart."

Tim frowns. He's realizing what Bruce was listening to. "Is that- Are you spying on Y/n's therapy sessions?"

Bruce was quick to shut off the recording. Letting out a deep sigh.

"Weren't you the one who didn't want us to invade her privacy?" Tim was reasonable. You going to therapy is actually a good thing, because at least someone in their family was going to therapy.

But just to find out Bruce was spying on your sessions was just. . . disappointing.

"For a good reason." Bruces statement just angered Tim even more.

"Good reason? Bruce, she's a 16-year-old girl who's pouring her heart out to someone you paid to listen to her problems. If you were going to just going to do this. Talking to her would have been a better option." Tim crossed his arms with a deep frown.

"She won't talk to me Tim. . . she's hiding something." Bruce sighed as he looked back down at the recording.

"That doesn't mean you should be doing whatever this is!"

As Tim and Bruce argued, Dick came down with a box of pizza and a smile.

"Hey, I brought Pizza-" Dick cut himself off as he stumbled upon Tim and Bruce arguing.

"Whoa, whoa. What's going on here?" Dick walks up to the two with a slight nervous smile. Tim doesn't look all too happy.

"He's been spying on Y/n's therapy sessions!" Tim's words caused Dick's smile to slowly drop.

"Oh. . . oh Bruce that's not. . ."

Dick was trying so hard not to give Bruce a look of hard judgment. But in his attempt to do that his face forms cringe.

A school trip to a museum was giving you Daja'vu from your last field trip. Didn't go well due to the result of getting bitten by a spider and having long-lasting trauma from there on out.

You stared at a painting, a spider devouring a butterfly who was unfortunate enough to be caught in its web.

"Kind of a sad painting don't you think?" Someone spoke up.

You turn your head and see Jason. You don't seem surprised; you slowly turn back to the painting.

"Didn't think paint museums were your thing." You say as your eyes stayed trained on the spider eating the poor butterfly. Jason couldn't help but chuckle. "What do you think my thing is exactly?" He asks as he tilts his head while staring at the painting with you.

"Bird cage maybe. Isn't that where a bird like you should be?" You spoke almost mockingly. "Actually, I feel like that painting over there would be more of your taste." Your head jesters to a painting behind the two of you. Jason glanced back to see a painting of a bird being attacked by a black snake with green eyes.

What was painfully ironic about the painting, was that the bird was a robin.

". . ." That was a personal jab. Jason would usually get angry and curse someone out. But this was you, and he honestly understands your hate. Even when you say something cruel, he knows it's not aimed to him directly. But to yourself.

Jason stared back at the painting of the spider and butterfly. Then stared at you. You stared at the painting with, sympathy . . .?

No. Thats not it. Empathy maybe?

"The butterfly, do you feel bad for it?" His body facing you while his eyes stayed focus on your expression.

"It's the spider I pity."

Jason's brow raises from your words. "The spider?"

You stay silent for a moment.

"People hate the spider, for something it can't control. Kind of unfair if you ask me." Your stare didn't seem to be focused on the painting, seeming to be beyond that.

"Your weird" Jason mumbled. Not fully understanding what you were meaning.

Suddenly your spider senses spiked up. You were quick to grab Jason and pull him away causing you two to fall to the ground, right before a bomb was set off.

Jason was quick to get onto his feet

"Stay." Was all he said before running off. You got off the ground and scanned the area before running off to try and help others to get up and evacuate. Your spider senses were going crazy. People were screaming and the building was shaking.

you were so distracted you didn't notice something rolling to your feet. A smoke bomb. But the moment you noticed it, it was too late. Red smoke exploded into your face.

The sound of a ticking clock, the lights dimmed. You were in a chair, blinking a few times. Trying to process how you got here, you look up to see Mrs. Dean. Sitting on the chair across from you.

". . . Mrs. Dean?" Confusion was quick to take over you.

The air felt eerie, and oddly damp. You glanced around and see your in her office. You see Mrs. Dean talking. Her mouth moving but you heard nothing.

"I- I can't hear you-"

"Do you blame yourself?"

You stayed silent for a moment, Confused. You were getting this, unsettling feeling, causing you to grip the onto the chair you seem to not be able to get off from.

"What?" You spoke, almost in a whisper

"Well, it's quite common in this situation for a patient to feel a sort of guilt"

Your brows furrowed by Mrs. Deans statement.

"What situation. . .?"

Mrs. Dean doesn't answer. She freezes almost. No movement. Like she's been paused.

Your surroundings glitch.

And you're standing outside. In the rain, ruins around you. You couldn't process anything. Because you were staring down.

Starring down at a motionless body. The face. She doesn't have a face.

Where is her face. She's supposed to have a face, right? why doesn't she have a face? What is it supposed to look like?-

. . . who is this?

Your supposed to know who this is. But you don't. Why can't you remember? This isn't right. . . .

different faces glitch onto the woman. But none of them were right.

Why can't you remember?

what's wrong with you?

Why can't you remember?

Suddenly your body began to move. Your hands slowly move up to reveal blood. Your breathing increased, panic, dread. Utter dread.

"AAAAHHHHH!!!"

"Shit!" Jason struggled to hold you down. Bruce shouted for Dick to open the pod to get you out of this hallucinating state you were in due to the fear toxin. Your blood curdling screams echoed throughout the Batcave.

Your body thrashed as you screamed and cried. Your screaming was throwing Jason off. And it hurt. It hurt seeing you like this more than he would think. Bruce took hold of you and told Jason to grab a syringe to knock you out.

Bruce held onto you tight. You screamed out.

"Please! No- NO NO PLEASE NO!"

Jason ran back with the syringe and stuck it into your neck. You flinched, your head falling back as your eyelids slowly close.

"Mama . . ." You whispered, only audible for Jason and Bruce to hear. Giving the two men a few seconds of silence before Bruce quickly carried you to the pod.

--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__-

A/n: Yup, I'm back. Hope y'all are having a good school year for those in school. Hope y'all liked this one and feel free to give me any tips on making more unsettling seance (I just noticed I reached 1,007 followers. You guys going crazy with this)

@huening-ly,@mariadvorak, @superherosdystopiafreak, @chelluv, @houseissofine, @esposadomd, @greyeyedmockingbird, @1-800-daisy, @c0c0-puffsxxx @arthurswife, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @josiepapen, @natashanice165, @amber-content, @mahbeanz @azurewisteria, @seraph101, @skepvids, @lara20aral, @iwasveronica, @jackrabbitem, @nickey-diano, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @sekidekiboombeki, @masters-blog, @lulpeepkins, @sgarrush-blush, @redsakura101, @danart501, @definitely-not-sammie, @khaleesihavilliard, @reallynotsoconfident, @uknowimdumb, @bat1212

[ruggedrookie]

thinking abt the contrast between jimmy's violence and swansea mercy-killing daisuke.

everything jimmy does feels gratuitous. for the smallest example, he escalates curly's (seemingly calmly stated) bad news into hostility and accusations - and it only gets more severe when we start seeing things from his perspective. it's all laid out right there in front of us, whether we like it or not; we watch him, help him, carve into curly's leg and feed it to him, and dehumanise anya, and shoot swansea point-blank. even when he's forcing medicine down curly's throat and the game mercifully fades to black, we still aren't spared the sound of him gagging and sobbing and choking on it - and every time curly is on screen, he's an unavoidable, stark reminder of jimmy's violence. it's everywhere you turn.

swansea putting daisuke out of his misery is, in comparison, heartwrenchingly tactful. he tells him to close his eyes (something that curly can't do, doesn't have the choice to do anymore - even as the credits roll he's still left staring helplessly, no fade to black), and as he does so, the camera pans and retreats until his entire head is obscured. not only do we not see the impact, but we don't hear it either, since the audio cuts out. for the actual moment of daisuke's death, we as the audience don't actually see any of the blood and gore of it all, just the sombre lead-up - and it's only when we switch back to jimmy's perspective that we see it. and it's only through jimmy's hallucinations(?) and actions through the rest of the game that we keep seeing it.

[comehellorhighwatertheywillwrite]

I started DRAFTING the first chapter of a fic I've been planning and the next day I completely hallucinated seeing my aunt and cousin in my complex when they live like 40 minutes away.

I even told my Mum that they were here and we both looked around the complex we live in and she called my Aunt to ask where they were. My aunt confirmed that they were not in my complex

[angiethewitch]

things I did thinking I was being spiritual but it was actually a severe psychotic episode

to preface i am a pagan but let's be honest here this was straight up a mental health crisis

okay let's go

convinced myself there was a very angry poltergeist in my loft after I found out there was an old bed frame up there and it needed my help to move on but instead I threw salt up there and refused to let anyone walk underneath the loft opening

decided I had mastered the art of astral projection and I was travelling to astral planes and I could fly around the world while I was actually just lying there vividly hallucinating

straight up told people that my spiritual guides were gonna kill them like how did I expect them to do anything but laugh in my face

blood magic. like really dangerous stuff. thought I could bring my dead mother back to life by exchanging my life force for her own. hello?

vividly hallucinated my dead mother talking to me and fully believed she was a trapped spirit but nobody else could hear her and it was up to me to save her. all through her funeral she talked to me, she spoke to me for months. took me nearly a year to start dealing with her death and actually begin the grieving process

decided my husband was cursed and made him stand in the kitchen while I walked in a circle around him boiling herbs. poor bloke has dealt with so much

became convinced if I could just cast the right glamour spell at the right time I could breathe underwater and tested this out in the ocean like a very normal and sane individual

thought the wind was actually terrible forces speaking to me and delivering messages just for me so I became terrified of wind because I would have to sit outside and decipher the words that were clearly just for me

sewed a load of crystals onto a t shirt to protect myself from bad energies and called myself "the high priestess" and got very upset when people couldn't understand my power

understood that my cat was not actually a cat and was in fact the spirit of a 2500 year old druid priest sent to guide me in the form of a cat. Still called him Jinx though

started a journal where I detailed all the signs that the end of the world was coming

Read online that the colour red means angry so I desperately avoided the colour red because that meant the world was angry with me

tried to summon satan to terrorise my neighbour who was mean to me and fully believed it would work

decided I was immortal and imbued with the powers of ancient gods which led to some very risky and dangerous situations which I will obviously not detail here

there are many more examples but these are the most ridiculous ones

if you followed me for the witchcraft posts, im sorry. ive had to take a step back from it all for the sake of my own mental wellbeing. spirituality is a huge trigger for me. I tried practicing in moderation, I tried practicing just a little, but it is too much now. I had to unfollow a lot of witchcraft blogs because 1) they all seemed to collectively devolve into conspiracy theories and 2) i had to remove myself from the online witchcraft space. if you were wondering why I don't post about witchcraft anymore, this is why. I barely practice anymore, and when I do, I keep it private so im not encouraged by online validation.

please practice safely. always consider the mundane explanations first.

[crownedhades]

killer sans and dust sans dynamic.

keep in mind that this is purely headcanon 😓

tw: mental disorders, hallucinations, delusions, eating disorders, inferiority/superiority complexes, etc.

honorable mentions: nightmare, horror, color.

.°• ੈ♡₊˚•.

now it is no surprise that killer and dust have pretty similar au's. they both have beef with the player, they kill everybody, and they both hallucinate.

the main difference is the player themself and how sans reacts to the player due to the player's different actions.

in dusttale, the player is solely a genocider. they're not a hacker, they're not cheating the system. they're just playing the game almost as though its some cursed hyperfixation of theirs. which drives sans insane and results in him trying to end the timelines once and for all, to force the player to give up and lose interest.

as for something new, although the hacker was also a genocide player, simply playing the game wasn't enough for them. that's why they manipulated the game's code and forced sans into making a deal with "chara."

either way, both dust and killer are victims to the player. they have both remembered and experienced loads of genocide timelines, and the pacifist routes and the "good old days" feels either distant or nonexistent. that their reality is truly in the hands of an outsider that is seeping their spirit into their world and controlling it.

in the fanon depiction where nightmare kidnaps and forces dust and killer to work for him, i--like many others--do not believe they would get along.

at first i considered the possibility that they would get along due to their shared experiences and enemies.

but then i realized that there is no fucking way either of them would be vulnerable enough around each other for either of them to even understand that they have shared experiences.

they have very... strong personalities, after all.

but! in the small chance where they do blurt out what kind of timeline/au they source from,, it would be a lot of mixed feelings.

on one hand, killer would feel inferior to dust. or more so the sans-like side of him would. why? because dust was able to do something killer was never able to do.

dust chose to fight back against the player on his own accord. he didnt feel so desperate to feel something new that he made a deal with chara or be influenced by the hacker.

dust experienced none of that manipulation--but killer doesn't always see himself as a victim to manipulation. in his mind, he made the choice to agree to chara. anything that came after was merely a consequence of his foolish "decision."

killer would think dust is strong. killer would think dust made the right choice.

until he realizes dust's mental health, and how dust handles another shared experience.

their hallucinations.

its not always talked about by the community, but killer canonically hallucinates. in the route where he kills chara, he does end up feeling like chara is still there. sometimes he can see chara, and other times killer just feels like chara is watching from a distance, but he doesn't know from where. along with other visions of people.

in my perspective, killer understands that what he sees isnt real. i mean, even i hallucinate. there are times where my brain is desperately trying to trick me into believing that something is real when it isn't.

and maybe i am projecting my own experiences, but i like to believe that killer has a system for how he guages whether or not something is real. i like to imagine that he has a mental checklist of some sort where he sifts through a list of possibilities. it doesn't always work, of course, but he at least has a method where he tries to determine what is reality.

dust, on the other hand, i like to imagine doesn't. that he has so deeply regretted his actions, consumed by guilt, that he allows himself to be tricked by his hallucinations. he allows himself to believe that phantom papyrus is real when he's not.

these are both interpretations that happen after they leave their timelines and are brought under nightmare's grueling control, so their canon reactions while within their timelines is irrelevant to me.

killer learns to cope and adapt, while dust doesn't. he never changes like killer does.

and i imagine that... this is what feeds into killer's inferiority complex. dust may have done better than him in one thing, but at least killer does better with another thing.

these conflicting emotions is what leads killer to damage the possibility of them having an understanding relationship, reverting into his self-destructive tendencies. he insults and mocks dust, acting like some high school bully filled with envy.

envy, because he's still chasing after the desire of feeling something new. this consistent desire within him was what lead him into making that deal, after all, and there's a part of him that shames himself for it.

he originally was confident in his "decision" since it was the only opportunity that he could see at the time.

but dust's mere existence , a revelation that killer--as sans--could have chosen another path... he hates himself for it. he hates that he chose the "inferior path."

but there's also a part of him that likes the path he chose. after all, unlike dust, killer possesses the ability to reset. he had a god-like ability, and yet he...

his feelings are all over the place.

.°• ੈ♡₊˚•.

dust doesn't understand killer.

in dust's mind, killer is just some... killer without any goal. a nuisance who's entire existence goes against what dust believes in.

dust believes that permanently ending the resets is the ultimate goal. to end the genocides entirely. so when he discovers that killer was different, that killer indulged in the genocides... not for the sake of ending them, but rather just because he wanted to feel something new...

knowing that killer was another version of himself, sans, felt like a dirty insult. an insult to his own sufferings and determination.

it didn't help that killer had a shitty personality; always mocking and insulting him, always telling dust that he was stupid for talking to his hallucinations, that he was an idiot to believe the words of phantom papyrus.

so when dust figured out that killer also hallucinates... there wasn't an ounce of pity within him. in fact, it was hilarious how hypocritical this lesser version of himself was.

and dust made this humor known. he returned killer's insults and mockery, furthering the unrepairable dent in their relationship.

.°• ੈ♡₊˚•.

dust couldn’t understand why horror always watched killer the way he did. unlike how he hated killer, dust actually respected horror in his own ways. there was no reason to dislike a guy that doesn't participate in genocides. horror was just an older version of himself who's dealt with a different route and had his own issues as a consequence.

horror never lingered around killer for long, but dust was an observant man. he noticed the way horror narrowed his eyes in concern whenever killer refused to eat, or when killer was unusually silent.

there was also the fact that dust occasionally stumbled upon instances where horror forcefed killer. (link to a oneshot i wrote of this scene)

after learning about more... sensitive issues that killer had, dust began to slowly understand killer's character.

there was a gnawing sense of confusion in the pit of dust's stomach.

.°• ੈ♡₊˚•.

it was a rare, uncomfortable instance, but dust once found killer having a mental breakdown.

he watched as the swirls of red slowly morphed from a target-shape and into an upside-down heart. he saw how the black tar made of excessive determination slowly faded from his skeletal cheeks... how a white light dimly appeared in one of his sockets.

it was a side of killer that dust has never seen before. he wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to it, either.

so he walked away without a word, too startled to do anything. he convinced himself he didn't owe killer anything... that killer could handle whatever turmoil he was facing on his own.

dust couldn't sleep that night, feeling far more restless than usual. the memory of that dim white pinprick kept digging into his mind.

did he feel remorse for walking away? he wasn't sure.

.°• ੈ♡₊˚•.

what clouded dust's thoughts further was when killer was "rescued" by color, a fellow sans.

it made dust realize that there was more to killer than he initially thought--

no, he already knew. he knew with the way horror looked at him. knew when horror force fed him. knew when killer had a mental breakdown and dust walked away from it.

he had always known. he simply refused to accept killer's complexities. but could you blame him, with killer's awful personality? maybe if killer never mocked or insulted him, dust would feel differently.

his feelings are justified no matter how you look at it. but dust couldn’t tell whether or not his actions were justified.

guilt consumed him.

.°• ੈ♡₊˚•.

killer had noticed when dust stumbled upon his broken state. he wasn't sure if he should be grateful that dust "respected his privacy," or feel upset that he was technically "abandoned."

he doesn't have the right to complain--at least, thats what he tells himself. hes done so much to dust, bullied and tormented him, that killer knew he didn't deserve being helped.

not that he would have accepted that help in the first place, knowing killer's history of rejecting others.

killer was alone, and he knew that. he didn't count horror since he never even asked for his "generous assistance."

at least, thats what he believed before meeting color sans.

.°• ੈ♡₊˚•.

dust wasn't sure of what to make of color, nor the fact that he scarcely gets to see killer anymore. should he be glad that killer, who's been a nuisance to him this whole time, was gone? "rescued" by that vibrant, rainbow sans?

strangely enough, dust wasn't happy when killer severed ties from nightmare's "gang of villains." nightmare's castle grew infinitely more boring and monotone now that he was gone.

despite everything that has happened between them, killer was a source of distraction. he brought life to this dreary palace with his loud personality and constant pestering.

sure, dust frequently got angry with him, but...

there was so much that could have been between them. so much that dust refused to acknowledge, refused to reach out on.

his unstable mix of emotions twisted in his chest every time he thought of killer. he knew killer intentionally destroyed any hope of creating a bond between them, but... unlike killer, dust was a sans that still mourned what was lost.

everything was uncomfortably complicated, yet nothing would ever be resolved.

closure did not exist and would not be met kindly.

.°• ੈ♡₊˚•.

did killer regret his actions? in a way, he did. at least, the "sans" side of him did. he agrees that there could have been so much more between them, that if killed had never acted the way he did, maybe they could have been friends.

but he didn't want to ponder the "what if's" anymore. what has happened has happened, and there was nothing he could do to change it. the best killer could do was move on and hope that dust finds his own peace in the future.

.°• ੈ♡₊˚•.

sorry if none of this makes sense. the ending was rushed bc ive had this draft for months and heavily procastinated.

[freakshow-collective]

they can't handle m.y schizo coolness (terrified of real people but getting the feeling that my walls are alive and staring at me is kind of meh atp)

[azure-dragon-prince]

@multi-muse-of-madness-rp continued from here

Azula didn’t back away — they couldn’t, being secured in a sitting position — but they did tip their head back to keep looking at Ursa. Ragged bangs fell away from their face, exposing the shadows and angles from not eating or sleeping. Paranoid and deluded as they were, the sixteen-year-old refused to do either, certain the food was poisoned or that they would be killed in their sleep. (As a consequence, they were often drugged and forced to do both.) At some point after being thrown back into their personal torture, Azula had stopped forcing themself to make eye contact, but they still wanted her in their line of sight… both her, and the hallucination. They couldn’t tell which was which, and it unnerved them. Golden eyes narrowed, gaze ending up on Ursa’s mouth because of the awkward angle, the Lightningbender kept sneering.

“Help me?” They echoed, disbelieving. “Don’t lie to me. I don’t know why there are suddenly two of you, but neither of you care. You think I’m a monster — you always have. Too rigid, too cruel, too sensitive, too eager to copy Father.” Azula almost laughed. “I heard you. ‘What is wrong with that child?’ …I suppose I should be glad you never called me a girl again — not even Father did that.” But then Ursa actually touched them, and everything changed. That time, they did uselessly try to back away, but there was nowhere to go. Pinned against the wall by both the straitjacket and the chair the staff of the mental institution had secured them to, the Prince flinched away as much as he could. “Don’t — don’t touch me!” They meant to sound angry, powerful, a royal forbidding a commoner from touching them.

Instead, it sounded like they were going to cry.

[starfucker01]

TW: Scopophobia/Eye Contact, Hallucinations

I’m sorry, Astrid…..