[deerbroken]

i've always loved petunias,,, it was one of the first plants i tried to grow! apparently they mean resentment and anger though lol
for this contest, tell me about a time they were angry or resentful! what caused it? what did they do afterwards? limit of 500 words, prettying up is fine but no extras please!

this will close on june 24th at 11:59 PM chickensmoothie time!

edits:
[nr] sclera, heterochromia
[s] hair, shine
[c] fur, tail, backmane
[uc] ears
[r] double ears

[faunsie]

im watching but kiss u jean

[khvoxtic]

khvoxtic + 323740 | Payton | ft. Velocity
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━


They weren't exactly sure how or why they had managed to land themselves into the waiting room of a hospital, the noise slamming them from every direction as people talked and children cried and phones rang. Cupping their left hand in their right, Payton stared down at the floor, tracking the patterns in attempts to distract themselves. A cold drink pressing against their the side of their head threw them off their groove as their head slowly turned to the route of all their problems. Vel smirked, as much as he could with a growing black eye holding out the can of soda out towards them.

"Piss off."
"Oh ouch, I'm wounded. Fine, more for me."

Snatching the can out of his hand, Payton huffed, watching as he walked around to sit in the empty chair next to them. Popping open the tab of their own drink before leaning over to open theirs as well.

"I hate you."
"I could tell as much by the lovely welcome home present I got... Thumb goes outside your fist."

Vel snickered before turning to stare up at the ceiling, a stupid smile on their lips as they nursed the cool drink, occasionally resting it upon his face against the swelling of his eye. Payton stared at them for a moment before leaning back into the uncomfortable plastic chair, there wasn't much they could do about it now.

---

The words to a familiar song muttered under their breathe as they made their way into the house, bags hanging on each arm as they muscled through carrying everything from shopping inside in one trip. Laughter sounding from their roommates as conversation flowed through the rooms. Hiking everything up again, Payton walked through the lounge into the kitchen, settling things onto the bench and relaxing.

"I'm home." They called out into the house, wondering over to the fridge to pull out a can of soda, popping the tab and taking a sip before turning around and stopping. Vel.

"Welcome home." The man beamed, crooked smile as he stood in front their roommates, Darcy and Clarke, who's smiles did little to mask the nerves. Time seemed to slow as their body moved on instinct, the can of soda fell to the ground and it only took a couple of steps to close the distance as their fist connected against Vel's face.

It had been years. Vel had disappeared without a word, without a note or a call, phone number disconnected and the next thing they hear is his voice on the radio. Made it big with their song. The song, the two of them has spent months pouring over to be just right, the two of them would make it. Make it big. Even on the radio.

All rational came flooding back soon though as pain shot up their arm, reeling back, clutching their hand as they looked to the man holding his face, blood nose, dumb smile and all.

"Missed you too Payton."
"I hate you"

[500]

[justamindset]

arbourous || 695530 || Juno
➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸➸


It's easy to hold resentment, at least that's what Juno likes to tell himself. As one who holds grudges easily, Juno finds himself holding more resentment than he probably should. With that, it should come as no surprise that Juno's holding onto anger from when he was three.

Juno was a quiet child, spending more time playing heroes with his action figures than the other kids at his daycare. It wasn't until Kira freaking Jackson decided to show up and ruin his fun. Kira was - to little Juno - annoying. She'd grab Juno's toys and smash them against the ground, pretending she was doing it to play 'villain' in Juno's story. But Juno never liked violent villains - he preferred the smart, cunning ones, like on his favourite tv show. So little Juno did what most any 3 year old would do; Juno got mad.

It took all three daycare caretakers to calm Juno down. All things considered, the whole event wasn't so bad - what made Juno resentful was that he'd missed recess that day, and Juno hated missing recess. Needless to say, Juno still sneers when thinking of little Kira Jackson taking away 3 year old Juno's recess time.

[néktar]

nektar | 217991 | GIN
───────────────
the room was silent aside from the sound of water dripping to the floor and the mic feedback. he looked out at the crowd, he began to hear laughter and see smiles from those around him. he was suddenly pulled back into reality, standing in front of his peers presenting his senior thesis when he was suddenly doused in ice cold water. he couldn't think. he turned to look at the culprit behind the now most humiliating moment of his life. towering over him with a huge grin on his face was his own girlfriend, now ex-girlfriend after this exact moment. he was losing his mind. his words caught in his throat, betrayal held his tongue and heartbreak squeezed his throat. he felt hot tears welling in his eyes. the sounds of laughter filling his head. he couldn't take another moment, he frantically grabbed what he could and bolted from the lecture hall. his entire body soaked from head to toe, it was in the middle of winter, his clothes were beginning to frost over as he ran through the outer halls of the university. he was about half way when his body seemingly gave out, his back hit the wall and he slid down into a ball. holding his thesis close to him. his knees tucked to his chest as tears began racing down his face. burning his cold cheeks and his breath bellowed from his mouth. trying to compose himself before someone rounded the corner, not wanting to be embarrassed any more then he already has. he sniffled and wiped away the tears, biting his lip as he got up to calmly walk to his car.

the pain in his heart soon turned to anger as he thought of the smug face his former partner wore, he clutched his briefcase tightly, his teeth clenching. he couldn't believe her, after months of planning and research, months of him telling her how excited he was about his thesis. how much effort and love he had put into it, how much it was going to mean to him to present to his colleagues and professor. she had been playing him the entire time, playing the innocent sweetheart. this spark of anger began to burn inside of him, growing from a flame to an inferno by the time he arrived at his car. he was no longer cold. he placed the briefcase in the passenger seat, his eyes trailed to the university in front of him, he gripped the steering wheel and started the car. the flame only grew hotter.

the next day he came back to class, delivering his thesis in a calm collected manor. he was precise and passionate, no one mentioned of the incident. though he simply walked out once he was finished. left his colleagues hanging though his ex is forever stuck with regret as he had informed the schoolboard of what rules she had been breaking. she was expelled and is now attending a different college.. (499)

[baz]

baz 807452 | Tama | 498/500


Having your artwork published in a gallery surely was something to feel accomplished for. But having your artwork published under your mentor's name was another story.

Surely it was some sort of mistake, because Saburou would not do this to him. He was an outstanding teacher and always had been there for Tama, offering aid and assistance when he needed. Saburou knew how passionate and dedicated he was towards his artwork. Saburou was like his father that had saved him after his biological parents passed.

Tama politely asked one of the curators nearby if the name was correct, pointing out calmly that he was the artist who had created the painting. The curator had laughed and shook his head at such a bold statement, but Tama was not amused.

Tama's arrival back at his estate was sudden after the shameful display at the gallery. Saburou, standing and chatting with a few guests, was quick to notice his entrance.

"Tama, how wonderful of you to join us. How was your time out?" Saburou asked with a signature glassy smile on his face.

"Pleasant enough. I happened to stop by an art gallery though," Tama mentioned as he stepped closer. Something seemed to click in Saburou's mind with Tama's words, bringing him to Tama's full attention.

"It should have been. But the name on it was incorrect, and not by one or two letters either. It was your name, Saburou."

"There must have been an issue with the publishing process. I'll call the gallery right away."

"It wasn't an issue, was it?"

The question was enough to bring Saburou's entire focus onto Tama.

"Did you take me in," Tama continued, "just for this? To sell my artwork? To make profit off of me?"

Saburou forced out a laugh. "I've no idea what you're on about, boy. You should feel lucky that it was me who took you in, and not some other person who wouldn't have even allowed you to pursue your artsy dreams."

Venom bubbled like acid in Tama's stomach. The words spilling from Saburou's lips were fueling some flurry of emotions, and it was starting to seep out. His fists clenched while his eyes began to sting with hurt.

"You're vile. You— you've taken everything I worked for! You were supposed to be here for me. You were supposed to raise me! Not— not take everything from me and use me like a tool!" Tama shouted. Saburou had raised him and taken care of him, but it had all been for nothing. His youth, their time spent together, birthdays, holidays— it had all been for nothing.

In a moment of panic and fury, Tama turned and fled. He fled like that cowardly boy who had been taken in long ago. No matter how hurt he was by Saburou and what he had done, he could not bear to hear him say anything more. Despite everything, Saburou was all he had left, and Tama would always keep coming back.

[Kyar]

/u:/ kyar 320861
/n:/ evrath
/g:/ male


I fell to the red like an insect to the stream. I fell to those frothy waters and swept myself away to the jaws of lurking death, my own demise, brought by my own hand.

If I could dive into the past, grab my collar and yank me from the waves of anger, I would do it a hundred times.
Hindsight is so heartless when all you see is red.

--

What I saw in her first was the breath of the willow, a tantalizing mystery shrouded by swaying leaves, cast over her eyes in flickering shadows. She held something I could never quite place, though still my mind wanders and often I try. The way in which she held herself, so dangerously purposeful, I found myself entranced. An image, painted still in the depths of my mind, haunts me with the beauty my heart dipped in red.

Her hair silken on the wind, the clatter of her wares on the marketplace stall, the faint tinging of beads along her wrists. A vibrant golden shawl wrapped tight to ebony shoulders, her lips curved in an ensnaring smile—did I ever stand a chance? Her nails tapped the single coin and begged me to spend more, dark eyes drifting, never landing, swallowed up by that something she wouldn't let me see.

It was never a question she'd purchased my heart, not a dream could've fantasized the hold she had on me. I fell to her every word, a torrent of passion, sipped her sap-sweet words with desperate hunger. Every whim, every laugh, flash of crystalline teeth, a dare to dive past the canopy of branches, to meet the roots of the willow and pull back the bark, see what really lay inside. But her wit cast me away, left me straining for glimpses. Who was she, inside, where she kept my beating heart?

--

The memory, so red-stained it drips, comes often and deep. His hand on her neck, the sound of her laugh, their eyes like reflections lost deep in one another. He held her, he whispered, he slipped past her veil, into the depths she had not once allowed me. Though her words rang with promise when she spoke to me, her soul never poured to the same cup. I watched from afar what could only be a pledge from the roots of her being—to him, not to me—sealed with a soul-rending kiss.

From that moment, all was red. All my anger, all the fury, a well to the core of the earth erupted in my rampage. Her screaming faded to nothing as I charged after him, the man who sought out and won my heart away from me. I remember the sounds of the fight, not sensation, lost in the buzz of red. When I was finally torn away by the righteous of onlookers, I was numb to the shackles, to the shouts of the guard, but shattered when I saw her eyes, and I knew: never again.


/500/

[elf_of_the_hollow]

username & number. elf_of_the_hollow / 352032 |||| name. dirt |||| prompt. [ 498 / 500 ]


from dirt you are born and to dirt you shall return.

the phrase echoed through his mind, over and over, like the mantra of a dying god. a
crackling rage burnt beneath the skin, blisteringly hot. it served as an ever present reminder
of his newfound plight, of his mortality. the word turned to ash in his mouth. it stung his
ears, made his already weakened knees weaker.

once, long before this moment, he had been a peaceful creature. he didn't know better than
to be kind, to be trusting. regret festered in his heart now, infiltrated every corner of his
brain. would he have known where that trust would lead him he would not so easily give it.
that, he had since learned, was a privilege. and it was no longer one he was eager to give.

he tried to recall what had happened, but the memory refused his frantic plea. his inability
to remember only made the rage blaze stronger. someone, something, had done this to him.
had taken everything from him, left only emotions from which to draw these conclusions.
long ago he would only have been preoccupied with what would drive one to do something
like this, but he had not been so naive in many eons. the reason no longer mattered. just the
rage crackling between his ears.

from dirt you are born.

the words fizzled in his mind and died on his tongue. one did not often mean such words so
literally, but he felt their truth in his core, summoning more memories he couldn't recall. he
didn't know who he had been before. it hurt to try and remember. but he felt he had been
alive longer than the few memories he did have would suggest. much, much longer.

to dirt you shall return.

this stung worse. it inspired feelings he didn't quite understand, alongside the rage that only
kept building. this brought to mind the one thing of which he was certain, even despite his
faulty memory: he was not meant to die. he had been robbed of more than just his
memories. fear coursed through his veins at the mere thought, that he had been immortal,
that it had been stolen from him. he tried to ignore the thought whenever it came but it
never failed to permeate every inch of his brain.

he pushed the thought down, or tried his best. it still itched at the back of his mind, but he
could ignore it, at least for the moment. the rage would bubble over later, when he knew he
would be alone. it always did, in a constant cycle. this he could remember with perfect
clarity. the anger was constant, sitting just under the surface. but he swore one day he
would understand. he would figure out what happened to him, who he used to be. one day
he would break this seemingly never-ending cycle.

from dirt you are born and to dirt you shall return.

[rem sleep]

mark !

[fish-soda]

mark!!