ballpointthorn

[ballpointthorn]

And as the man looked towards the night sky, thousands of stars greeted his gaze. They granted him their audience in their offering of solace. Crystal tears dripped from his cheeks, knees met grass, and finally, his words met the nights breeze.

“Is friendship meant to be so fleeting? Is friendship like one in a million stars, inevitably awaiting the moment its shimmer fizzles out?”

The stars remained silent as they always did, and the man found himself desolate once more. But the grass gleamed silver, his eyes once more meeting the sky above only to see stars dimming, but replacing them was a few growing much brighter than before. The stars wisdom reflected on him in that moment, friendship is not dozens casting down upon you in gratification only to slowly fade away, friendship is the select few who shine even brighter than the masses could ever achieve. ⭐️

[ballpointthorn]

Mentor mentee connection but make it spiteful and tragic

——————

The mentor left the mentee behind in the shambles to protect them, but all the mentee knows is their closest person abandoned them to the carnage around them. Years later they cross paths once more and the mentor now has to bear the markings of their choice as the mentee desperately tries to hurt them as they were once hurt.

If the mentor tells the mentee why they left, they could place the mentee in grave danger

If they stay silent, their very own protégé could be the source of their downfall

[ballpointthorn]

My favorite ship dynamic is the polycule I have between a gardener, a doctor, and a priest from a town set in the 80s

Yes everyone assumes they’re are just really good friends that happen to be living together

Yes all three of them are middle aged men who act like fumbling teenagers around each other

And ABSOLUTELY are they making out in dark alleyways while sharing a cigarette after each one has respectively played their major part in the community for that day.

[ballpointthorn]

seeking refuge within my mind? || writer intro

who are you? -

I’m thorn, a writer, artist, and musician using this account to anonymously share my works with the world. I am 20 y/o, and part of the queer and neurodivergent communities.

what do you write? -

I am mostly a fantasy fiction writer, creating worlds of and characters of whimsey to fill up what I have spent my years creating, my escapes from reality. Next to this, I enjoy writing fictions for fandoms I’m in, romance and angst being the easier to come to me. Though, I will try my hand at just about anything.

what is your inspirations? -

media, other people, music, many times portions of my own life that I spin into stories of another world. I just want to write, I want to create things that I can drown in, that other people can share and add to. I was born with a pen in hand and the desire to make the world my own.

what are your fandoms? -

videogames like dragon age inquisition, fnaf, RDR, BG3, omori, until dawn, horizon, stardew, pokemon, DBD, and Genshin

As for books, TCGF, school for good and evil, warriors, HTTYD, Grimms fairy tales, the hunger games, ready player one and divergent

Of course my media fandoms like death note, sailor moon, avatar, The lost boys, scream, lilo and stitch, perfect blue, paprika, the maze runner, Komi can’t communicate, TBHK, TDI, wonder egg priority and superstore

These are all what I can remember off the top of my head

[ballpointthorn]

The villages far from any wandering eyes or ears hide themselves away from the teachings of many deity’s. These secluded villages of the east surround large woods that hold their greatest treasure, the gods they follow so loyally.

Considered cultists by many gods, the villages of providence host a unique type of people, their outward call sign being butterfly wing tattoos that mark their upper and lower eyelids respectively. Nobody quite knows their day to day, but it is easy to assume in their seclusion they have found ways to provide for themselves, forsaking all followers of any gods beyond their own.

What gods do they follow? The three gods of fate, their eerie songs and prophecies echoing between the trees and flowing along the wind to reach the loyal ears of villagers.

Kismet, the youngest of the three, the god who abandoned his fellow deities after the war that broke the world in three. He finds them cruel, throwing mortals between their own conflicts and dancing above the graves soaked with the blood on their hands. Kismet could never stand in the same realm as those who destroy the very people they swore to protect. Kismet is the god of fates future, the most reclusive of the three. He resides in the deepest part of those winding forests, coming out only to celebrate with his people. His domain is littered with thousands of butterflies, each one representing one mortal life’s fate. Seclusion has created a hermit and war created a god with no desire to seek company from other souls. His beauty hidden beneath a veil, godly garb long tattered and yet worn as elegantly as the day he received them. Blue butterflies cling to his body, especially his face where they lap up inky black tears that leak from beneath the veil over his eyes.

Sutan, the middle child, the one who walks among mortals. She has the heaviest hand with her people, her abilities limited to the decisions of her siblings, purple butterflies follow her every move, dark ebony hair like a playground to them as it cascades over her shoulders. She can feel the world’s balance, sickness, joy, grief, all effecting her day to day duties. While she may not hold the power her brother and sister do, she is no less important. Without her, harmony among mortals would cease, past and future would blur and the society they know would all but continue. She is the most beloved of the three, a treasure beheld by the villages of providence.

Preterite, the eldest of the fates. Her duties lay in fate past, white butterflies adorning her being. Out of all three, she has hardened the most after fleeing the godly realm with her siblings, the very memory of what was lost in the war crumbling a once joyful god. She handles the strength of the three fates, never allowing past to repeat itself. She is the bookkeeper, godly records fall beneath her hand as she is able to recount any event in perfect detail. Her domain an abandoned records hall that nature has devoured, flowers and trees bursting from every shelf. Most are able to identify her from tattoos that recount what she has witnessed, war, plague, glory and victory, all like maps across her body.

The fates hold some of the most influential abilities among gods, kismet is an elder god, one of seven looked to for guidance, but his absence in the godly realm has affected the legends behind him. Gods who remember the war, twist the minds of the young, calling kismet a traitor for his actions against them in battle. But kismet is what kept the gods from tearing the world apart, breaking godly law and changing fate, not only to save his own people, but the forsaken and mortals. Through changing the fate of the world, Kismet changed his own fate to be dragged through the tattered lies of elder gods. However, he remains hiding away with grace and elegance.

[ballpointthorn]

He was a god with power beyond what she could comprehend, enough in his hand to collapse the very precipice of societies. She was a ruler leading her people with the elegance and grace allowed to her from her own deity.

Their romance began not as a blossoming orchid, but as a prickle stuck to royal garb. He hid himself away among her people, a veil between himself and the atrocities he allowed his limitless power to commit. There was no kindness behind his husk, but her own poured into him like strings that gripped his heart. How he could not resist the sweet taste of her compassions, how she loved so effortlessly in ways he had been everything but familiar with.

His hand once so quick to light the flames of carnage, now reserved only to caress delicate skin of his lover. Her leash on his craving soul a testament to her own limitless power, a god worshipping a mortal.