[nome senpai]

username: nome senpai
kalon name: tbn
prompt response [500 words max]: wip~
art [optional]:

[xel]

username: maybe i was boring
kalon name: Nylon
prompt response [500 words max]:
Nylon entered the room, slamming the door behind him.
He had an awful day at work, and he was beyond angry.

He changed into something more comfortable and sat down on his bed, placing down his bag by his feet and falling backward.
His thoughts were clouded by unplaced anger and exhaustion.
Suddenly, he had a good idea to take his mind off of it.

He dug through a drawer and pulled out a switch lite, and then powered it on, sitting down on his couch.
He flicked through the games until he found the one he was looking for;
Animal Crossing New Horizons

He waited for the game to load up, and a smile erased his previously solemn expression as he pressed the " start " button.

He sat there for hours playing, terraforming his island, talking to his villagers, and giving them silly little gifts that they seemed to all appreciate.

By the time he was done working on his island, it was already 11:30.
He yawned, rubbing his eyes and getting up to plug in his switch.

After that, each time he would get upset about something, he would play Animal Crossing to calm himself down. Between the upbeat music and the adorable villagers, he just couldn't stay unhappy.


art [optional]:



Animal Crossing Grass Divider || Leaf Bullets

[SilhouetteStation]

username: SilhouetteStation
kalon name: Huego

prompt response: (494/500)

It used to be fights. There was something so satisfying about throwing your weight into a hit, and in return, feeling their fist connect with your jaw. Bursts of adrenaline packed into a punch. You're drained by the end of it. Sprawled on concrete, laying in dirt. It made me feel empty, but at least there was no more fuel to light the ignition. No more anger left.

Then he came along.

Gripped my hand and hauled me to my feet like some good samaritan, brushed dirt from my hair, pressed a warm coffee into my aching fingers. People had tried to help me before, but I told them to jog on. Usually they did. He didn't, though, and I wasn't prepared for what him sticking around would mean to me.

I wasn't prepared for a friendship this fierce.

Deacon wasn't like any other friend I'd had. He took me by the scruff of the neck and forced me to listen. Forced me to face myself. He held me while my shoulders shook, tears sliding down my face, choking back sobs. He understood. Turns out we were both foster kids. The system is broken, he said. But we can't let it break us.

So that's why I'm here. My face is painted. The lights are dim, but I like the mask. I feel like someone else. Someone stronger. The small, packed crowd is silent, watching Ollie up on stage. The kid doesn't say much, but his soft voice fills the room while his fingers move across the guitar strings. Outside of this, he startles like a deer in headlights. If he can tackle open mic night, so can I. Deacon's just offstage, eyes brimming with pride. It's Deacon's cafe, actually. And his foster kid.

Ollie calls him Dad.
He calls me Uncle.

The crowd applauds. Ollie shifts to the side of the stage, poised by a hollow wooden box, staring back at me. Deacon motions me up. There's more applause as I take my place on the stool by the microphone. A piece of paper is scrunched in my fist, but I know the lines by heart now. Who knew slam poetry would be the same as a fight, eh? Only this is better. These are my words, my voice, and everyone has their attention on me. All of my frustrations, my fears, my anger; it's all here. I tried to express all of these emotions through brute force and uppercuts, but I was never saying anything. With slam poetry, I do nothing but say it.

I nod at Ollie, and he starts knocking out a steady beat on the box. It's a low, meaningful sound. The atmosphere in the room changes. I look out at the crowd, at faces familiar and strange, and make eye contact with each and every one of them before opening my mouth to speak.

I grab them all by the scruff of the neck, and make them listen.

art [optional]:

[skywalker,]

username: skywalker,
kalon name: Damien
prompt response [500 words max]:
wip ( res with soccer )
art [optional]:

[zero.two]

x

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username. Min-Yoongi
kalon name. Dante
kalon gender. Male
prompt. 500 words





xxxxxxxxxxx─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: * a moment of patience in a moment of anger can save you from a lifetime of regret. * :☆ﾟ. ───

xxDante has always been one to anger easily, ever since he was a little kid. He inherited his quick temper from his father, who also tended to be easily pushed over the edge.

There was one thing that Dante could do that would quickly bring him down from his stormcloud of wrath, and that was listening to music. Whenever there was something that even slightly angered him, Dante would simply stick his earbuds in, and blast his favorite songs. It was a way to distract him from the outside world and switch his focus onto something other than his thoughts.

He always thought about music as a way to drown out his thoughts and force him away from clinging to the things that escalated his anger. It didn't matter what kind of song, what genre it was in, or who was singing it. All he needed was to listen to music loud enough to keep him from thinking about anything but the song he was hearing.

~may add~

xxxxxxword count: 166

[altiora]

username: altiora
name: Piper

There's a lot of anger to be found in the injustices of the world. A lot of unfair tragedies happening to undeserving people.

Day in, day out, day in, day out. It's unending, forevermore. And it's not just the day, but it takes up the mornings and the evenings, and the long, long nights; where her companions are the white blurs of the uniforms from her busy, tired, determined coworkers; the blinking eye of the moon, apathetically watching the chaos; the cacophony that demands attention this way and that way under lights so glaringly bright it sears into her eyelids when she finally gets to sleep.
She wouldn't change it for the world.

She was doing it for the world.
And she kept it heavy, steady, on her shoulders.

Here comes a soul, having the worst day of their life. And here Piper comes, her rare warm smile on a backdrop of cool tones. She makes sure it won't be their last day. She does her best to make their every following day better than the last. She couldn't stop what happened to them, despite how little they deserved it, but it happened and now all she could do was stitch up their wounds and make sure they knew she was here for them for every up and down.

It builds up inside, this outrage. Outrage at the unfairness. And there's nowhere to place the blame, nowhere to direct it. In her youth, she would scream: she would throw objects at the wall with only the barest of restraint. That wasn't acceptable anymore. It hadn't ever truly been acceptable. The best way to cope, to deal, was to redirect her energy into something productive.
And so, she redirects it into bone.
It's not as interesting as it sounds; just simple reiteration. It drags her mind into objective physicality.

She counts each ribcage, marvels at every single one and how they work together to protect the vulnerable matter that makes up our lives. The skull, holding so many fundamental aspects of ourselves in our purest form. The phalanges, the flexibility, how they ground us, how they move us, how we feel through them. The spine that carries and protects and how it holds us up along with the life giving hip bones. How every single bone, so wide and varied, has a purpose to help us thrive.

You could quote any part of the body with this philosophy, but there was something admirable about the strength of bones, and their ability to fix themselves when even they falter - with a little bit of help.

She loved being that little bit of help. So when the fire inside her burned bright, she thought about the skeleton, that structure of strength protecting the soul, and she could breathe again for just a little bit longer. One step after another, feeling the strength inside of her.

[483]

[MirrorMask]

Username: MirrorMask
Name: Davy
Prompt:
The air was cold and crisp but even it couldn’t cool his head, while others would shiver at this frigid weather. He was out here, he always ended up back here. The thought of being that desperate again made him scowl and pick up his pace across the trails of fiery colored leaves that painted the path. His heavy steps caused them to crinkle under foot while others were flung into the air to softly teeter back down. Even with the red haze blanketing his head, he still watched his footing. He had too much respect for this place not too. He knows the path like the back of his hand having been down here ten? No, twelve times in the last month. He couldn’t even dare to count how much it's been in over the course of his lifetime. He really should blame them for all this, after all if they’d been here maybe he wouldn’t be this damn anger all the time. Maybe they could’ve taught him something else, like love or family or something gushy or stupid that he shouldn’t be giving a ounce of a thought to. He can’t help it through, everybody wants some kind of love...right?
He slowed his pace once he saw the two gray figures ahead. It only took one, two, three steps more before he finally broke down. His anger warping into grief as soon as he read those awful words.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF A DEAR MOTHER AND FATHER…

He didn’t even bother trying to compose himself before speaking, his voice betraying him with every word.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“I’d say it’s been awhile, but it really hasn’t...I really can’t help it. Everything seems to just tick me off recently and the only way I know to escape it is being here with you guys.”
“I know I’m probably a disappointment, I know if you were still here I could’ve been something greater. You know? Gone off to make you proud like all kids do for their loving parents.”
“But instead, I’m here...and you’re there.”
“I hope at least it makes you both happy that I visit so frequently. I know it’s not for the best reasons but I really hope it shows you both how much you mean to me. How important you are to me.”
“I think I’m feeling more put together now, so I’m going to head out now. I promise next time I’ll bring you both the biggest bouquet of flowers. Make everyone else real jealous, ya know?”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, Dad.”
He couldn’t even remember when or how he ended up on the ground between their gravestones, in all honestly he didn’t care. He slowly got up, exhaustion clinging to his frame after crying so vigorously. He started to walk away but couldn’t help looking back to take one last glance at his parents. Everyday he wishes they were here, next to him, not six damn feet under.
( 498 // 500 )

[Zailune]

Mark, oh gosh

[pigeoncore]

username: pigeoncore
kalon name: Ace
prompt response [500 words max]:
Two words: wrecking rooms.
"No." Ace shook his head firmly.
"Come on." His kalon friend laughed, smiling a little.
"NO." he gritted his teeth.
"Your therapist said that they would be a great outlet for you. Nothing else has worked, and we don't want you getting arrested again, right?" She stared at him pointedly, raising her eyebrows.
Ace groaned, tilting his head back. "They're stupid. I'm not doing this."
"Listen, I saw you at your worst. It hurt my heart to see you so angry all the time, and there wasn't anything I could do." She sighed, lost in bad memories. "But this is something we can do, and it will help you."
"Promise?" he asked, giving in.
"Promise."
They were standing outside of a rather usual city building, with a sign on the door that said "BIG CITY WRECKING ROOMS."
"Real creative name they've got there," Ace scoffed, already having having doubts again. He started to turn back, but his friend growled sharply, stomping her paw.
"We're going in. You are going to do this session. I don't want to know that I've failed you."
"You haven't failed me." Ace dismissed quickly.
"Exactly. But if you don't do this, then I have."
Ace grumbled through gritted teeth, uncertain. But he went through the door.
A bright pink kalon was sitting behind a desk. "Do you have a reservation?" they asked, grinning brightly.
His friend nodded, and the kalon led them to a room at the end of a hallway. It was filled with random objects like an old guitar, an early 2000s television, among others.
"Have fun," the pink kalon said, flashing another smile before leaving.
"This is supposed to be an angry place, right?" Ace muttered.
His friend chuckled and nudged his shoulder. "C'mon, let's have fun!"
He halfheartedly kicked a block of styrofoam across the room, eyes anywhere but in one place.
His friend sensed his discomfort, and said knowingly, "I'm going to go get a coffee. You need anything?"
Ace smiled softly. "I'm all good."
As soon as she left, he began smashing things with a vengeance, slowly getting into it. It may have been a just boring fad to him at first- but somehow, all this chaos was helping him relax.
His friend returned an hour later to see him sitting in the center of the room, panting, the broken contents scattered around him.
"So?" she smiled.
"Thank you."
406/500
art [optional]: wip

[captain dude]

username: captain dude
kalon name: Rat
prompt response [500 words max]:

“Well, you’d be mad if your name was Rat, too!”

Being angry is practically second nature to Rat. Everyone knows it. Most fear it.

But Rat has her own way of calming down. She aquascapes.

It’s a rare hobby, she knows, and an expensive one, but there’s just something so relaxing and beautiful about having your own underwater world. Placing the coral, choosing plants and fish, and running all the aquarium chemistry to ensure life stays living is just all so methodical and calming to Rat. It’s quite the hobby, to say the least! Being around water is calming and when water is always around you, it’s hard to get too stressed or worked up.

And it can even be lucrative sometimes too! She’s been paid to help create and sustain fish tanks for various people. Her favorite was a touch pool filled with sea stars, snails, and hermit crabs for the owner’s kits to play with.

Due to her small size (one of the smallest living Kalons) and being drenched in salt water half the time, she got the nickname “Drowned Rat”. Unfortunately, the nickname stuck and she finds it quite irritating, but try her best to let it go. After all, it’s better to be made fun of for doing something that makes you feel alive, than to be accepted and separated from following your passion.

Heck, she could have the worst nickname in existence and, as long as she still had her fish, all would be well! She wouldn’t trade that for the world, plus her small size allows her to go snorkeling in most of the tanks she works on! Another plus to being “Rat”!

She came up with that idea after a session of therapy one day. Ever since her therapist heard about the “Mammalian Diving Reflex”, a scientific phenomenon that slows the heart rate, lowers the cortisol and adrenaline, and calms the diver, Rat had to swim every day, doctor’s orders! And watching a fish tank is so relaxing, so why not combine the two for maximum stress relief?

Her own personal fish tank is a thousand gallon tank refurbished from a bankrupt restaurant that she filled with a beautiful tropical reef of corals, colorful fish, and tons and tons of sea stars! Swimming with such peaceful animals grounds her and reminds her to find peace, exercise the art of self control, and to live in harmony with everyone around them. As Rat has learned, life is a lot easier when you go with the flow, quite literally!

art [optional]:


Art by me, mandarin fish by animalspot.net, clown fish and angelfish by geemarine.com.au, sea stars from Flickr