[eleutheromania]

𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚕 𝚉𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊 𝙰𝚍𝚘𝚙𝚝𝚜

"This Zebra is breedable on 29 May 2026"

*This is a Theme Zebra. It will follow the 'Seven Deadly Sins' Theme.

Rain Stripes - Thin vertical droplet-type striping. This will pass like any other stripe mutation.
SDS Symbol - not passable.
Animal Sign(Dragon) - muted to 2nd generation, will not pass to third etc. If bred together only one animal sign will pass

This is 2/7. You guessed it, here lies GREED.
For Greed, make them a mood board OR tell me a short story about what aspect of greed they have?
Max 1 moodboard OR 500 Words.


End Date: May 30th Rollover to 31st
EXTENDED to June 6

Code: Select all

[b]username:[/b] (link and name)
[b]zebra name:[/b]
[b]Prompt:[/b]


phenotype: Blue Taffy Splash Snowflake Appy
genotype: EE AtAt ZZ nSpl Lplp
striping: Rain Moderate Reverse
mutations: Silky mane and Tail
height: 14.1
sex: Mare
lineage
------------------------------------------ SSS: Foundation
----------------- SS: Foundation
------------------------------------------ SSD: Foundation
Sire: Foundation
------------------------------------------ SDS: Foundation
----------------- SD: Foundation
------------------------------------------ SDD: Foundation

------------------------------------------ DSS: Foundation
----------------- DS: Foundation
------------------------------------------ DSD: Foundation
Dam: Foundation
------------------------------------------ DDS: Foundation
----------------- DD: Foundation
------------------------------------------ DDD: Foundation

[Nyxeva]

username: Nyxeva
zebra name: Mercer
Prompt:
Mercer had never seen so many figs in one place.The grove sprawled beyond the watering hole, the trees heavy with glistening fruits. Sweetness perfumed the air as zebras from many herds wandered beneath the branches, eating until their bellies were full before moving on. Mercer, however, did not move on.

At first, she only wanted a few extra.The last dry season had been particularly rough and the memory of her empty stomach still clung to her like dust. While others grazed and talked together, Mercer began piling figs carefully between tangled roots. "One day this grove will be bare. Then who will be prepared?" she muttered to herself, gathering more and more of the fruits. She returned over and over, gathering far more fruits than she could ever eat. Her muzzle became sticky with juice, and she kept collecting even when her stomach began to ache.

She continued growing her hoard, drawing the attention of some of the other zebras. One evening, a young foal approached her pile with hopeful eyes. "Could I have one?" Mercer stepped in front of the figs, her ears pinned. "Find your own." The foal stared at the mound behind him, confusion evident in her features. "But there are hundreds right here!" "And they are MINE!" Word spread quickly after this, causing the others to avoid Mercer. While the herd rested together near the water, she remained alone beside her hoard and protected it from imagined thieves. Every rustle of the grass made her ears twitch and every shadow was regarded as a threat. Days passed like this until the rains came.

The storm swept through the grove with roaring winds and sheets of rain. Mercer pressed herself over her precious pile, trying desperately to shield it. But figs burst beneath the rain, turning into sour mush beneath her. Rivers of purple pulp streamed through the dirt and carried the rest of the pile with it. By morning, the grove smelled rotten. The mare stood among the ruined fruit, exhausted and hungry. Her stomach churned from days of overeating, and now almost everything she'd gathered was inedible.

Across the clearing, the rest of the herd grazed calmly together. None of them were concerned, as they'd already eaten what they needed and had lost nothing. An older mare approached Mercer slowly, studying the spoiled figs around her hooves. "You guarded all of this, yet you enjoyed none of it." She lowered her head as she realized she couldn't remember the taste of the figs anymore. All she remembered was the fear of losing them. The older mare nudged a single perfect fig toward her. "Food fills the belly, but greed empties it."

[Exitium]

username: Exitium
zebra name: Vil
Prompt:

Made by me <3

[Ricocheted]

username: Ricocheted
zebra name: Lucrezia
Prompt:

moodboard made by me!

[Zuppe]

username: (link and name)
zebra name:
Prompt:

[werepickle]

username: werepickle
zebra name: Claramay
Prompt: Greed of Validation

The coastal wind, salty and wild, once sculpted Claramay’s mane into a vibrant banner. She spent her days tracing the shoreline, hooves sinking into wet sand, or composing melodies from the ocean’s roar.

“The tide pool shimmers today, Claramay,” Penny called, her voice a warm rumble. “Look at the sea stars, deep indigo against the green.” Claramay, her golden-streaked mane catching the sun, paused, but her gaze drifted past the tide pool, over the vast, shimmering expanse of the water. “Did you see how many whispers my latest song gathered?” she asked, a tremor of excitement in her voice. “Almost double yesterday’s.”
Penny lowered her head, nudging a piece of driftwood with her muzzle. “Whispers don’t fill your belly, Claramay. Nor do they paint the sky.”
“But they see the sky I paint,” Claramay countered, her voice rising. “They feel the melodies. Don’t you understand? They appreciate it.” She turned, her iridescent eyes gleaming with a new, hungry light. “The more they appreciate, the more I know my worth.”

Days soon bled into weeks. Claramay’s unique markings, once a celebration of her spirit, now seemed to preen for an unseen gaze. She no longer chased the perfect wave, but the perfect angle for her silhouette against the sunset, her movements precise, calculated. Her songs, once raw expressions, became polished, crafted for maximum resonance among the distant whispers.
“You’re losing yourself,” Penny stated one afternoon, her voice flat. She watched Claramay meticulously arrange a pile of seashells, not for their beauty, but for a fleeting image. “This isn’t the Claramay who taught me to find joy in a single dewdrop.”
Claramay flicked an ear, dismissing the comment. “I’m evolving, Penny. I’m connecting. You wouldn’t understand. The whispers, they crave more. I have to give it to them.” She nudged a particularly lustrous shell into place. “This will be magnificent. They’ll adore it.”
“They adore the performance, not you,” Penny retorted, her voice hardening. “They don’t see the real Claramay anymore. Do you even see her?”
Claramay spun around, her eyes flashing. “You’re just jealous! My reach expands, my influence grows. I’m important now. My life has meaning, more than just plodding along the same old beach.”
Penny sighed, a long, weary sound. “It had meaning before, Claramay. When you painted the tide mark on your flank because it felt right, not because it garnered praise.” She turned, her striped coat blending into the dappled light of the caves. “When you sang because the song was in you, not because you needed to hear the echoes.”
Claramay watched her friend walk away, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. But then, a new whisper arrived, a chorus of praise for her seashell arrangement. Her chest swelled. The flicker vanished. She turned back to the setting sun, positioning herself carefully, her coat shimmering, ready for her next performance. The roar of the ocean faded into a distant murmur, replaced by the rising clamor of unseen applause. (494 words)

[parsnip]

username: parsnip
zebra name: Charity
Prompt:

made using befunny stock photos