if you are the sun, i am a supernova. (CNS)
A gasp inhales through his dry throat, seemingly catching in his lungs and squeezing despite the fact he exhales mere moments later. He can’t seem to stop the ringing within his ears and his hands come to clench at his legs, tightening himself despite his obvious inability to control his breathing.
Can I help?
No. Get away. Get away. Go away. I don’t need you I don’t want help, I’m not fucking useless I can do this Haha… Who are you kidding?
Y̜̣̬o͙̦͖u̜̭͍̗̝͚ ͇a̦̭͈r̻͓̪̮̰e ̯̱a͕l̠̯w̗̩̮̼a̗y͙̙̤͙̠͇s̝͖̫̹͕͈ ̮̭̝u̹̰͓̯̝̭̰s̯̪̟͉el̟͕̟e̩̳̪̖͓ss
He swallows thickly, trying to dampen his scratched throat and failing miserably, eyes peeking up over his knees as he shakes his head. Voice barely reaching over a whisper.
“N-Nobody c-can help me…”
What answer had he expected? One like this, of course. Mathias hadn’t really expected that his offer of assistance would be accepted. (Of course, if it had been, he would have done everything in his power to ensure that he helped –– even if it was just in some small way.) Still, that didn’t mean that he is going to give up and just leave; that isn’t in his nature. He always does his best to help people, even if they were deemed a ‘hopeless case’ by most others. He himself had been deemed that by others; he knows the pain it brings, the isolation.
❝ ...That doesn’t mean I can’t try, right? ❞ He sits down next to the Jester, blond head tilting to the side as he speaks. He wasn’t to do something, anything to help –– but he doesn’t know what is acceptable.
Maybe his presence is unneeded, maybe it is annoying –– but he isn’t just going to leave. His heart ached for those in pain. It is impossible for him to just leave anyone in a sate such as this one; if he were to even try and do so, he knows it would plague him. (The world is cruel, he knows, but if he can help even one soul, that is enough for him.)
Oberon
A design I did a while ago and still like. I always thought fairies that were long limbed, elegant and a bit distorted looked especially otherwordly.
The voices had come back again- twicefold from last time, murmuring sweet nothings within his ears only to scream into his bones when he refused to acknowledge them.
“Go away…”
His own voice breaks within the sentence as his knees descend and he finds himself, once more, in a ball.
Concern adorns pale features, delicate brows furrowing slightly as worry rises in Mathias’ chest. He hates, hates, hates to see people in pain –– he always has. He can all but feel it, almost like an ache in his own chest, a hollow throb that threatens to devour everything that it touches. Desperately, he wants to help, but he doesn’t know how.
The first thing that comes to mind is the every-present question of ‘are you all right’ –– though, Lord knows that this answer is far more than evident just from looking. Instead, he crouches beside the Jester, fingers hovering over the other’s form (he is afraid to touch them, lest he make things worse).
❝ ...Can I help? ❞ Quietly, quietly, he speaks, voice almost uncertain. Was it his place to ask? He doesn’t know, but he just wants to help.
Ijeoma Umebinyuo, three routes to healing (via mermaidporn)
A child born of war cannot be wounded. (CNS)
All monsters are human, all humans are capable of being monsters.
