[seawoof]

inspired by a late sunset from the other night
can you win this sheer's heart?

Code: Select all

[b]Username;;[/b]
[b]Name;;[/b]
[b]Gender;;[/b]
[b]Personality;;[/b]
[b]Extra;;[/b] (optional, you can do writing or art)

ends september 30th

[Blackbirds]

Username;;
Name;;
Gender;;
Personality;;
Extra;; (optional, you can do writing or art)

res!

[Alantica]

Username;; Alantica
Name;; Kira
Gender;; Female
Personality;;
Extra;; (optional, you can do writing or art)

Res c:

[Lady_Novianti]

Username;; EclipseRose
Name;; Sentennia
Gender;; Female
Personality;; Tenna enjoys the small things in life, like watching a sky full of stars on a clear night, and the wildflowers that blow in the wind during summer, attracting bees and butterflies of all sizes.
Extra;; Tenna sat on a large cliff over looking her home town. A salty tang hung in the air and waves crashed below. Her city sat on about twelve acres of land. it wasnt very big. Oh, did she mention it also floated? The village was build to never tip and was water resistant. Tenna had found a crystal beneath the waves that forced a bubble around the majority of the town. Only fishing piers and docks where left outside. The tang of salt hit her like the waves of the ocean, sometimes drawing in and sometimes receding. A cool breeze was the culprit, moving along in a mosey blow. Shaking off her pelt, Tenna let the warm glow of the sun to instantly heat her up. Brushing her tail against the ground, the Sheer looked around intently. A few moments ago she count have sworn she heard movement. Darting her head around, she stepped backwards, slowly reaching the edge of the 40 foot drop. Shaking her head, she let her self fall backwards, careening downwards and tumbling. She caught herself with her wings, floating gracefully back to the town. Waves battered the shield, and the boards creaked and moaned in pain. Tenna shrugged, trotting back to her small home. It was all she needed. A small home, a small village, and small friends. All on a big ocean.

[shuhalo]

dropping! good luck everyone!

[LadyChinaAru]

RES. WIP

Username;; LadyChinaAru
Name;; Shadow
Gender;; Male
Personality;;
Shadow is a very meek sheer and dispute his name he is actually scared of the dark. He often gets picked on by other sheer's and would rather not talk very much. He loves fawns though and finds them easier to talk to at times and would probably be a great dad. He also loves to read to little fawns and will even play with them. He's also secret very romantic and loves watch the sunset an watch the stars at night.
Extra;; Wip.

[invincible llama]

possible reserve??

username;; wafflellama
name;; noah
gender;; male
personality;;
extra;; (optional, you can do writing or art)

[freybugg]

Username;;
Name;;
Gender;;
Personality;;
Extra;; (optional, you can do writing or art)
res

[The Worst Username]

The Worst Username, Willow, nonbinary (they/them)

Personality
Willow is a soft-spoken Sheer, always fading into the background. Most other forget that they exist at all. Willow can be a bit of a drama queen, but, to their credit, they don't cry easily. They have a tendency towards mood swings and acting crabby.Willow is decently smart and kind too. Willow likes hiking, looking at nature, and swimming. They also have a few odd quirks: chewing on staples, collecting different kinds of dice, and sleep-walking.
Most of all, though, Willow stands out due to their beautiful paintings and wood carvings.

Extra (writing, sorry that it's messy and not revised)
My knees buckle under me, my heart thumps in my throat, I feel almost dizzy as the judge walks past all of the paintings in the gym. The judge is an old Sheer with a hunched pack, long grey wool, and a pince-nez framing his cloudy blue eyes.

I look back at my little landscape painting, the pretty piece I entered into this competition. It’s a watercolor landscape with big mountains fading into a purple sky, hills in the foreground, and tiny wolves running among flowers in the midground of the painting. I think it’s pretty, but is it good enough? Am I good enough?

“And…congratulations, Veronica! You are the winner! Please take this trophy and here’s a check…” the judge says. I swallow. I’m dizzy.

I just lost. What do I say? What do I do? My mind comes to a blank, and the world softens at the edges. The entire world has collapsed on me, but at the same time a huge weight has been lifted from my body. My knees nearly fail.

As the contestant three places down from me, a purple fawn with an obnoxious smile, runs away from her oil painting towards the judge, an ugly feeling punches me in the gut. I don’t notice my jaw falling a bit as my mouth moves in shapes. I try to form words, yet only small gurgles come out. “Beg your pardon, mister stupid pretentious pince-nez?” my words finally come and evolve from a soft murmur to a barely audible snarl. Now the feeling is here: failure, failure, failure. The mix of anger and sadness and the I’m not good enough feeling that all combine into a sudden urge to cry.

“I put so, so, so much effort into this. I spent hours on my painting. I looked at tutorials online, I asked my friends for critique, I took out the special watercolors I only use for very important occasions, I…” I murmur. If I talk loud enough, I’ll start crying.

The failure-feeling grows at the back of my mind. So do the sobs that slowly build in the back of my throat and threaten to rip out of me when I least expect them. Suddenly I’m gurgling, heaving, blinking back tears as I try to push the sobs down. I don’t cry; I never cry. But she put no effort into this, and I did! It’s not fair! I spent hours! “Hours! Hours…” I murmur even more.

Anger begins to surface. I almost shout, I almost yell and rage and punch pince-nez judge in the face. I almost run and put my hoof right through Veronica’s dumb still-life painting of a stupid orange. But I just can’t. I stand still like an idiot as Veronica starts chatting.

“Thank you everyone for being here, I really appreciate it! I’m so happy, oh my god!” Veronica’s eyes are bright. She clutches the little trophy close to her chest, and my heart clenches. That should be my trophy. Sitting on my shelf with all of my art trophies because I am a good artist. She is not.

I pick up my tiny watercolor and walk across the school gymnasium. I pass the other losing contestants still standing in front of their art. Bright lights flash in my eyes from the ceiling. Some of the other losers—not runner-ups, just losers—have already gotten up and dragged themselves across the shiny floor out the double doors, disappearing into the dark night outside. Probably going home to rant about this with their friends.

I arrive in front of Veronica. She smiles at me. Even though my lips are knitted together and I choke my tears back in my throat, she smiles up at me. She’s just a year, maybe two younger. The anger fizzles out. Why did I ever think of hurting her?

Failure still burning at my mind, I pull my lips into a small smile. My voice is weak as I utter one word: “Congratulations.”

Veronica cocks her head dumbly at me. “Oh, thanks! That’s pretty too,” she says as she gestures to my painting. Without another word, she bounces off out the doors of the school where this stupid contest is being held.

I look down at my watercolor as failure and my anger at her and my sadness all bubble to my lips, my eyes. I stare down as the silent tears fall on my cheeks and strangle another sob in my throat.

I walk ever so slowly towards the door with my painting held tight. Everything fades out of view as the sobs and chants of “failure” in my head become loud enough to consume me. I stand just outside the gym doors, just stop and drop the watercolor to the ground. The pretty little landscape painting flutters to the gray tiles. I finally let out that sob and drop my head down, back hunched over like that of the judge.

In a sudden spurt of anger I stamp my hoof into the painting and mash, mash, mash, dashing the painting across the tile. Various torn bits of green spread just across the ground under the water fountain. The sobs rip out of me and I spit on the green bits, cry onto them, cry like the failure I am.

Without a word, I turn around and walk slowly towards the door. I let the night air hit my cold tears as the sobs burble and gurgle out of me. I take one look back to the highschool with my stupid painting in pieces on the ground.

I turn back. I start walking. Already, it’s time to move on.

[rolyo]

Username;; bird,
Name;; Sve (pronounced "sehv")
Gender;; Male
Personality;; Sve is severe and serious, known for that icy glare of his that freezes bad dreams in their tracks. He is rational and keeps his cool, though once you get to know him he's quite the emotional Sheer who is capable of loving just as much as the next. A pessimist at heart, Sve has a pretty negative outlook on life, making him strive to perfect what little things he can to make the world a better place.
Extra;;
If someone else wins this Sheer, the art is for sale at a discounted price. Please PM me.