[Key-lime]

username: -Delusional-
kalon name: Dryez
prompt response [500 words max]: he stares into the boiling lava that created him, glaring at the musky reflection, every time a bubble pops he yells a problem in his or others lives. its usually about raisins though : /

[rab1es]

username:
kalon name:
prompt response [500 words max]: res with who said anger was a bad thing lol
art [optional]:

[angelsiren]

mark

[Westsparrow]

!! mark!

[fish-soda]

“𝙸𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙲𝙰𝙽’𝚃 𝚂𝙴𝙴 𝙸𝚃, 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝙸𝚃 𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃 𝙴𝚇𝙸𝚂𝚃.”

✗ username: fish-juice
✗ kalon name: Incaich

✗ prompt response: Unintentionally destructive during his rage, he wished to redirect
these vicious bouts to less harmful coping mechanisms; he had never intended to be feared,
yet this anger seemed to become his sole personality nonetheless - the very outward image
others took him for and nothing more. But, searching for such a calming method initially only
added to his frustration, as nothing seemed to work. He had no answer for the questions that
not only others often asked, but he also asked himself; how do you deal with this anger? Does
it truly drown out your other emotions, as you try to make it? Or will this continuous turbulence
never end? He had nearly given up looking for the solution. Did it truly matter? His reactions
have always been like this, and he couldn’t possibly see them changing now.

As he expected in the moments that led up to the outburst, it was happening again. As much
as he wished for stronger forces of self-control in these unavoidable situations, his emotions
had always rather controlled him, had gripped and forced him in whatever directions they
desired. This was typically towards anger, paired with sorrow; as aggressive as he could become,
he also became just as tearful and despondent. So far, the only solution he had was to run from
the causes, far from anyone involved and intent to be as alone as possible.

He pushed through the cracked doors of the run-down, empty building, breaths quick and shallow.
Unable to fully see through the tears, he stumbled into the nearest wall and leaned helplessly
against it. He was unsure how much time had passed while he attempted to steady his nerves,
yet the relieving point eventually came when he was fully lost within his thoughts, visions of more
calming scenarios taking the place of the emptiness of the room around him. Typically, the arrival
of this mild dissociation was the only outlet to calm his anger - however, rather spontaneously
while he was reciting a favored song’s lyrics, he first slowly extended one arm, and then the other.
He stepped forward once, and then back, initially stuck in only absentminded movements; if he
simply kept moving, he would be fine.

Even more unexpectedly, he was soon fully dancing; he used to do so nonstop as a child, finding
happiness in this energy outlet, but hadn’t now in many years. Yet, some of the memorized steps
and patterns came rushing back, albeit more shaky due to lack of practice. But he was alone - so
who cared? He could move as he wanted, and the emotions within him came out in his movements.
The mixture of irate, melancholy auras still radiated from him, but now they were cast into the
empty room through graceful motions he didn’t know he was capable of, instead of physically onto
someone else. This method brought new hope; he never wanted to be feared, or isolated - he
wouldn’t allow himself to be any longer. [498]

✗ art: click for full! <33

[credits: pose ref | lyrics]

[aidoneus.]

reusing character idea

[justamindset]

username:
DragonOfEmber || 695530
kalon name:
Yren
prompt response:

The streets; a violent, unforgiving home for a young Yren who had nowhere else to go. His younger years were filled with people lining up to use him, gangs trying to recruit him for illegal activities, and so on and so forth. Fist fights and violence took over Yren's life, and he hated it all.

Like a naive youngster, Yren thought the outside world was much nicer from what he experienced as he got older. Learning to live by using his fists was not what Yren had imagined at all after listening to stories of the outside world from his mother; The happy tales and far off look in her eyes whenever she'd told her stories had him dreaming of a world full of love and joy. Oh, but he was so wrong.

It wasn't long after his mother passed away that Yren found out just how cruel the outside world really was. Every day, he'd come home with new bruises, added cuts on his knuckles as street fights took over his life outside of school. It wasn't long for Yren's anger to start building as the violence got worse and worse; eventually young Yren was beating down anyone and everyone over minor inconveniences.

It was in his last year of middle school that Yren found an outlet for his agressive behaviour by way of a boxing gym owner who found him after one of his more gruesome street fights. There, the young boy learned how to take out all of his agression on a punching bag, while also learning proper fighting form, and better self defense. It was really this gym owner that changed Yren's life when he was at his lowest point.

-- 7 years later --

Yren breathed as he entered the gym he'd come to lovingly call his second home. This place always had noise going, bustling with sparring matches and sweaty, training members. It always amazed Yren how fast he went from angry to calm whenever he stepped inside the familiar building he'd practically grew up in. Walking to the back storage room reserved for staff, Yren dug through some of the older equipment saved in case of emergencies. It didn't take long for him to find what he wanted.

With a heavy heave, Yren pulled out a battered punching bag. With patches covering the outside, it was clear this thing had seen better days, but it was still Yren's pick whenever he came in - it took his anger well. The gym leader had taught him never to take his anger out in the ring, as anger in the ring brought unnecessary injury, and instead used a punching bag to teach him where his anger goes.

Finding a free spot in the gym, Yren set up his bag and pulling out his boxing gloves, setting up to release his pent up anger. With a deep breath, he released a punch, feeling the tension release from his body with the first hit.

SMACK.

art:

[nygma]

username: rottify
kalon name: purge [it/he]
prompt response:
purge storms out of the room, running off and ignoring anybody else. it shouldn't have gotten so angry, but before it knew, it had taken off, running and running until it's legs couldn't go anymore. purge was easily overwhelmed, and that overwhelming feeling came out as rage and aggression. it didn't want it's friends to see that, so it left the area right away.
the kalon huffed, sitting down in the middle of the forest, angrily grumbling and stomping its front paws down into the dirt. its eyebrows furrow, and he calms his breathing, properly clearing his thoughts. eventually, when his thoughts are clear enough, it opens a courier bag, pulling out a book and a pen. it leans against the nearest tree taking in a deep breath.
he clicks the pen open.
and then he writes.
it writes about how angry it is.
it writes, and writes and writes, and all of it's aggression seems to slip right through it and onto the paper.
the writing is messy, because he doesn't need to put work into venting his feelings out. this isn't about looking good. his grip on the pen gets tighter the longer he writes. the writing gets messier and messier. it doesn't stop until it presses too hard against the paper, and rips a small hole in the page.
it's satisfied, ripping the page out of it's book and standing up. the book is left with yet another page ripped out of it, another page that will be lost forever.
he pulls a lighter out of his bag, and flicks it on. purge listens to the noise of the flame swishing back and forth for a moment. he holds onto the page and puts it above the small flame, watching it catch fire and burn in his paw. the paper turns black, and it shrivels up, so he drops it on the ground and stomps on it.
"it's all gone now", he'd say, walking over to the book and closing it.
it places the book, pen and lighter back into its bag. purge hums to himself, quietly, laying against the same tree. it was a lot quieter now. the loud, violent thoughts were gone, and it was quiet. it was nice.
he remains in his spot, putting his head down and curling up. all those emotions had him exhausted. it wouldn't hurt to nap, right?
[398/500]

[rem sleep]

mark !

[NE0N-UMBR30N]

Res