[tenturo]

username: tenturo
kit name:
kit gender:
prompt:
art: [optional]

huge res

[NightFlame22]

Adonia looked in the mirror, her nose wrinkled in distaste. A sullen reflection stared back at her, one eye covered by
shiny lavender hair. She huffed, as did the kalon in the mirror. Two pairs of ears pinned back as Adonia’s reflection
sneered at her. They’re all idiots. Frustrated, she stormed away and went to her room, where the mirror could taunt
her no longer.

She didn’t understand why everyone paid so much attention to her. They said she was pretty, lovely, beautiful… but
why? She couldn’t see anything like that. Sure, she was different, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Most
kalons had soft, flowing hair that moved at the slightest breeze, but hers… well. It seemed to have a mind of its own,
and all that mind wanted to do was hang down straight. And what of those curls? Didn’t the others think they were
odd, being all blocky and such? Even on her back and tail, it seemed so… awkward. It just didn’t make sense.

Adonia wasn’t one to turn down a compliment, but… after a while, she grew to resent them. “Why does everyone
say that? Can’t they see that I’m strange?” Sometimes she would throw fits in her room, alone, where she couldn’t
call any more attention to herself than she already did.

Sometimes she played with the idea of just cutting her hair off. She’d run into the bathroom, pull out the scissors,
spread them open… and just stop. For whatever reason, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She’d stay there, scissors
still poised, a war going on in her head. Why can’t I just do this!! Her reflection would stare back at her, wide-eyed,
until she realized how ridiculous she looked. With a sigh, she would put the scissors away until the next episode occurred.

As time passed, Adonia only grew more and more upset with her looks. All she could see was how different she was,
how she didn’t ever seem to fit in. No matter where she went, all eyes were on her; she felt like they bored into her
very soul. The words were kind, but she’d had enough. All she wanted to do was blend in, fade into the background
with everyone else.

It was years before things finally changed.

The first day of sixth grade, Adonia was nervous. She’d heard rumors about middle school, how it would be much
different than anything she had experienced before. She was scared that this meant things would only get worse,
especially since she’d roam the halls with every other student during passing period. What a nightmare.

And yet, it wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. Everyone was in such a rush to get from one class to another,
they didn’t really have time to stare at Adonia. In fact, she herself didn’t have much time to think about it as she
hurried down the hall towards her history class.

As soon as she walked in, she was shocked. The lesson for the day was pulled up on the screen, and the image before
her reminded her of… herself. They were studying the Aztec empire in its golden days. The art pictured had the same
blocky kind of swirl, the colors vibrant and full of life. As the teacher flipped through the slideshow, Adonia’s eyes
grew wide with wonder. It was beautiful in a different kind of way. No, not just different… unique. The style spoke to
her; it wasn’t weird or odd like she thought of herself. It was just as it was meant to be. (600/600)

[CorruptedSong]

Mark omg what a beauty

[22tabby]

Mark

[.Ginger.]

username:
kit name:
kit gender:
prompt:
art: [optional]

Res

[zoocyte]

username: saccharin
kit name: ikali-llruaru
kit gender: female
prompt:


fly, little seagull
see the world with clear sight and wit
fly, little seagull
fly at the crack of dawn
fly back home
and rest in your nest
lined with the softest down
fly back home

melodious was the mother's voice, soothing as the lapping of the waves against the shoreline. still small, still fragile she was, still curled up against the velvet of mother’s white fur.

the first color she knew. white.

white, the color of bones. the color of bleached coral, sucked of their tropical hues. the color of the cold-storm that rarely plagued the island, sudden, chilling, a taker of life.

white is the color of death. it is the color that brands her underside, splashing her face in a ghastly shade. the color that turns eyes away from her and burdens the other islanders with unease.

they are superstitious folk - alert for every omen, every vision that hinted misfortune. they declared her bloodline cursed. her mother, and her mother's mother, both bore the colors of spirits, of demons.

thus her family lived on the outskirts of the tribe, coming into contact only to trade supplies and generally looked down upon by the populace. they didn't have to say it - everyone knew. that family...their existence was wrong. it was written all over their stark, pale pelts.

these were her people. she was one of them, yet, she was not.




one day, she wandered from mother's watch, chasing after her namesake. the irritated seagull often pecked her, but even then, she was undeterred. she wanted to catch the bird, ride it away from the island. beyond the oceans, beyond the palm trees. there was something out there - she could feel it. she wanted it.

and, with the sound of unfamiliar footsteps and the swinging of a net, she got what she wanted.

everything was bright. the flashing lights, the flying banners, the pinstriped tent. blooms of colors danced in dizzying flurries.

the eyes. once shying from the sight of her, now, they were consumed in her, consumed her. wide, curious, bulging, staring, shameless eyes. the eyes of strangers, coming and going but never leaving.

all she knew now was the gilded metal of her cage. attached was a plaque written in foreign tongue, reading constancia the merkalon, a lost beauty of the forbidden isles.

beautiful. what did it mean? she heard it again and again, slithering out of their lips like a two-headed snake. beautiful, to her, meant an oddity. a possession. an object, only to be used to beguile and captivate seas of onlookers.

beauty once meant the vibrant reds and yellows of a flickering bonfire, of flourishing coral. now, beauty changed: curled locks of lavender hair, a sweeping mertail, a melodic accent, a sleek coat.




each day was the same: sing for the crowds, say practiced lines, eat, go to sleep. she felt hollow without the silk of sand underfoot, the calling of gulls, the scent of seawater. the only light in her birdcage was her.

she was not of this place, either. they treated her the same, stared at her the same. they were so different, yet so alike.

two strangers, talking through bars, sharing stories of places that were now distant dreams. two strangers, slipping through those bars, through the tents, and into the unknown. two strangers, who thought each other beautiful, a different kind of beautiful.

they had been taught what beauty was, all their lives. that beauty shifted, changed with the times, the places. now, she would give it a name. that name, she whispered, was ikali.

[597/600]

[sicknasty]

━━ ＧＩＲＬ！━━━ ＧＩＲＬ！━━━ ＧＩＲＬ！━━

username: sicknasty / name: katarina / gender: female

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you might want to look away now, 'cause
here's a girl who was born to shine.
though some with her looks may be shy or oblivious,
katarina knows exactly how beautiful she is.
compliments? she LOVES them!

with dreams as big as her hair, kat has it all
planned out - her modelling career

some text? a whole bunch of text

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art by sincerely three

#b468cc
#d589f5
#ad89bc
#f293cb

[finifugal ✨]

mark

[SilentMelody]

username: silentmelody
x
kit name: trent eren
x
kit gender: male

x

trent is very shy and self-conscious in general. he gets fairly bashful and embarrassed when people point out his "beauty". he is humble and modest, preferring to compliment people rather than have people compliment him. in fact, he has low self-esteem and will often bring himself down with the insults that he gives himself. although everyone says that he's amazing and gorgeous, trent can only view himself as horrible and ugly. he can only see the flaws that he has rather than the good things about him.

x

trent has some scars, but that's mainly because he's so clumsy. he has permanent scabs along his knees and elbows. he's fallen in the streets and sidewalks -- sometimes on top of people, too. although, because of how he looks, people only help him up and brush his apologies off. it can be fairly frustrating to be complimented so often when he doesn't want to be complimented. over time, he's come to hate compliments and will rarely ever say anything other than a rough "thank you".

x

he really wishes people would stop and go away. in his little town, he's become somewhat a star despite his wishes and his protests against people fawning over him. trent doesn't see himself as beautiful or a star. in the mirror, all he can see is his goofy smile with long canine teeth, his weird hairstyle, and odd tastes in clothing. he doesn't see anything about him to be flattering or eccentric.

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trent wants to become a boxer, but because of the popularity he's gotten in his little town, he's afraid of how'd it'd be in the real world. he doesn't want people to look up to him for his looks or his so-called beauty. he wants to be known for his talent and his skills. anxious of how his life will turn out, he now hides in his home and never comes out, despite what his family tells him to do.

x


(324 words)

[illicit]

username: illicit
kit name: Shiloh Blair
kit gender: male



[ I live for the applause, applause, applause ]

Shiloh Blair, truly is a kit like no other. His astonishing looks and dazzling personality tend to blow others away. Admired by many, and despised by the dull. He dreams of being an inspiration to others, as he wishes to guide and help everyone around him. Shiloh is prideful, yet humble. Courageous and confident. Loyal to those who prove them self to be worthy of his trust.

[ Live for the way that you cheer and scream for me ]

Due to his exquisite appearance he receives a lot of attention and compliments, he returns the praise with a modest “thank you”, but deep down he thrives on it. Shiloh desires to shine in the light, bathe in the admiration of others, and he is thankful for being blessed with such stunning demeanor.
He decorates himself with all sorts of jewels and ornaments, simply wanting to be noticed.

[ Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch ]

Other male kits may mock his famine colours, but Shiloh looks the other way, he knows they are simply jealous of him, he is popular with the females, they beg him for advise on how to make themselves prettier. Of course, he helps them as he can, but he knows that some kits are simply a lost cause. Not everyone can be as fabulous as he is.

[ Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch ]

At the end of the day he likes to relax in a hot bath and read beauty magazines, even though he truly is the most beautiful Kalon there is, he still isn't perfect, and there is always something that can be improved. Shinier hair, or more polished jewels.
Beauty is pain, and pain is beautiful.

[ I live for the applause ]

♫♪✩♪♫