march 28th check out the new event! A small little springtime event to bring some spark if you're interested!
november 17th sign up for secret santa 2019 has begun! make sure to get your wishlists in before december 1st if you wish to participate this year!
october 24th there are new site shop policies regarding our paid ad spaces that are to be considered effective immediately! give the announcement a read here.
june 19th with the coming of summer, we've decided to run summer themed writing bingo until august! if you're interested in completing writing prompts for bits rewards as well as the possibility of being entered into an elite group of bingo completionists definitely make sure to check it out!
july 1st we're open! welcome! we hope you guys are as excited as we are to finally be here on the new site. you can check out our opening announcement to find out the gist of all our features. if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask. here's to a great future! ♥
sylin city parliament cordially invite you to attend the second annual masquerade ball in order to stave off the dreariness of the season! refreshments will be provided, and formal attire is required. please leave your weaponry at home and dance the night away! ...however, this year not all is as it seems. it appears someone has placed a riddle on the back of the invitations. who-- or what-- could have done this, and why?
ZUGZWANG is an illustrated panfandom roleplay with a twist-- characters must either choose to give up their memories or abilities to play the chessmaster's game. with a progression system that lets you earn back what you've lost and over fifty active fandoms, the sky is the limit!
the skin was created by ulla specifically for pixel perfect and should not be copied, used as a base, or emulated under any circumstances. all of the content (graphics, templates, tutorials, etc.) belong to their respective owners. most site graphics are done by pixiv artist tofuvi. site banner by pixiv id 3490137
Make way for the official spring starting site-challenges!
This contest is called, “Spring Fever”. This is a writing challenge. If you want to take part in our Coding Challenge or Graphic Challenges – make sure you check out those threads instead!
“Spring Fever” centers around what you or your characters believe spring is about. This can be really any tangentially related thing as long as you can make an argument that it has to do about spring. This can be any form of writing as long as it emulates something about spring. It could be a song, a poem, etc. You can enter multiple times- but only up to three times. This means that you should pick the three you would like to put forward! There is no minimum or maximum word count.
You can vote for the ones you like by liking the post. Depending on the turnout – we will either vote for the top two-three or if there’s one that takes the cake, well they win!
The prizes are site currency or a banner spot!
Also, using one of the community’s templates, I chose Punki! I really like this template quite a bit. The coding is not only organized (Which I’m envious of cause mine is messy) but also I just love the image part of it! :heart: Check out the code yourself, here!
Using Mizo's template from here in its original form because it's my favorite and the one I use a version of for the character I'm writing from the perspective of. They're crazy talented, y'all.
i'm going to break down
your walls, hijack your brain, run through your veins.
It was simultaneously the best and the worst time of the year, a time of great joys as the winter thaw gave way to beautiful flowers and green grass and the leaves coming back to the trees… but also the memories of times gone by. These past few years, the game changed every single year around this time. Two years ago, there was the finals of the Mistral Regional Tournament. A tournament that I won, a junior facing off against seniors from all across the kingdom – no, across the entire world. I proved myself to be the best candidate there was when it came to admission into one of the Big Four, into following your footsteps. It was the first step I needed to take to prove myself your equal, because you won the tournament yourself back when you went to Sanctum. That year as a freshman at Haven, one of the Big Four prestigious Huntsman Academies in the world, you made it to the finals and lost by inches on the grandest stage of them all in the Vytal Festival. All four academies sent their best and brightest, and you fell only in the finals one on one against the top performing student from the highest ranked academy that year. Someone who had three years of training at that level under their belt, while you had only half a year.
Everything I have, and everything that I am I copied from you. I had the same trainers that you did, learned the same style, and had the same equipment. I watched tapes of your training and your fights religiously, and I was glued to the television screen every time you came on. We went to the same primary combat school and had the same hometown, and somehow word got to you about me and you decided to come down to train with me a few days and take the time to reach down to help me when you didn’t need to – you took the time to watch my matches and point out my mistakes when you didn’t need to, and took the time to correct my form and show me just how far I was away from catching up to my idol.
God, you were good. I didn’t land a single scratch on you, despite us using damned near identical equipment and me using every trick in the book I had against you. I guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise, because every trick I had were tricks taken from you at least a year ago, and while you kept growing I was just trying to keep up. You were the prodigy of Argus, the most renowned freshman in your class across all of Remnant, and I was arrogant enough to think that I could catch up to you. You were only two years older, I thought, and I could be that good too if I was given the same time that you were. I would work just as hard, I thought, because I thought that was all that made the difference.
I’m in my first year now, the age to the day you were when you made the finals of the Vytal Festival and shocked the world. The same age you were when you put Haven Academy back on the map as a force to be reckoned with and made the clear statement that the future was here, and you weren’t going to wait for your turn. I run my bare hand across the stone across the black granite wall, a wall with two hundred and fifty-six names inscribed in the stone.
The plaque in front of it read:
Time is passing. Yet, for the Kingdom of Mistral there will be no forgetting that fateful day in February of 24. We will remember two hundred and forty eight students and eight faculty members who were lost to us in the airship crash off the shores of Atlas in a tragedy known as The Fall. They fought together as brothers and sisters in arms, they died together, and now they sleep side by side. To them we have a solemn obligation. We will move forward because we have an obligation to remember and honor the memory of those who gave their lives in the pursuit of a dream to make the world a better place for everyone regardless of race, creed, or nationality by living up to the example they have set for us as a nation.
“They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old; Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them.”
Freak accident, they said. Couldn’t have ever predicted it. The airship had an engine problem while flying over the ocean too far from shore to even make a distress call that would go through… and the rest… well, the rest was history. No remains were ever found from any who died in the crash, so a memorial was made in their honor instead. Red was always her favorite color, so I bring roses every time I come to set down next to the column that has her name.
The truth is, I’m nowhere close to ready to fill your shoes. You were always so confident and decisive, always knowing what to do in any given moment. You were a natural born leader with the skills to back it up… and I’m… I’m not. Two more years and I’ll be older than you ever were or will be, and I won’t be ready to fill in your shoes then, either. I never come in the daytime, because the monument still gets visitors around, so I try to come when I know nobody will be there. I have an image to maintain, you understand, I have to pretend to be put together and confident when other people are watching…
But the fact of the matter is, I miss you Cressida. Even whole one year later, I still miss you so much, and I’m still not ready. I cry my eyes out every time I see your name here, even though you’d hate me for doing it and yell at me if you were here.
Why did you have to leave?
Why did you have to go?
Why am I the one who was left here and not you?
I know you’d hit me and say that I don’t need you to become great, but that’s just the thing. I do need you, and you’re not here anymore. You were always strong enough to take the whole on by yourself, but not everyone can be like you. I can’t be like you, no matter how much I want to and try my best I just can’t…
for this challenge, I'll be using cyan'stemplate since the atmosphere of it fits my character well, and it's also become one of my recent favorites! also this is a WIP character from one of the many sites I roleplay on; I just thought I'd write something with her so I may know what to put in her app soon. I hope you enjoy it!
She sits on the stool and watches the hills for a while, the green grass overtaken by flowers that bloom in every direction.
[break][break]Her mouth curls upward into a small smile, her left hand picking up the brush from the palette. She had almost forgotten what season had come to pass, but this particular season is something she could never push away from her thoughts. She dabs the brush in green paint and begins her first stroke, staining the previously white canvas.
[break][break]In Spring, flowers awaken. The snow melts, and any figment of Winter is gone. The sun rises and finds the flowers and trees greeting it with such splendor and happiness, almost as if grateful for the previous cold season had ended, and thus begins yet another new era.
[break][break]But the Spring years ago, she had known... it had been awful.
[break][break]The flowers still bloomed, but they are covered in blood... the blood of her fellow kin, who had been slain by selfish people, who thought of them as monsters and fiends... she still could not see why they would think of that. They do transform into beasts, who lurk in swamps with skin replaced with scales, but then again... she was but a child when it had occurred. She may have been the only one who had escaped the hands of those merciless men.
[break][break]Tulip stops painting for quite a bit, staring at her half-finished painting. Many of the unlucky events in her life had always occurred during the Spring; the death of her family only one of them. She also remembers, that after running away, she had met a man... a man so kind as to take her in and take care of her with how much he has. He was poor, but he was contented with her. In a way... she had become a father to her.
[break][break]Drowning the brush in water, she dabs it in brown paint and begins to draw a cottage in a faraway hill.
[break][break]...I don't remember much of him anymore.
[break][break]It makes her truly sad, but truthfully, she had forgotten about him as she grew older. After all he'd done for her... she feels like a traitor.
[break][break]The painting is almost done, but there is still so much missing. Where are the flowers, she questions herself, and why haven't they been painted yet? She dabs the paintbrush in pink paint without even washing it; she does not even care about her brush's cleanliness anymore. Soon the canvas is filled to the brim with pink and purple tulips, on the left an adoration of yellow and orange carnations. Lavender hangs in the air through air-suspended vases. They remain protected by a building of glass, that stands firm and reflects the light of the sun.
[break][break]She had drawn the small greenhouse that her family had previously owned.
[break][break]The woman smiles, contented with the result of what she had drawn. But there is a sadness to her smile as well, as she knows what had happened to this family's precious possession. Tulip lifts the canvas and sets it on the ground to dry... then she turns back to the hill of flowers, her smile replaced with a frown.
[break][break]( there is no more greenhouse, only the remnants of it which stands as a broken glass building. the dead petals of the flowers they had grown litter the ground, some standing on the edges of newly grown tulips and carnations. this very greenhouse was where her entire family had been killed, in the midst of the plants they so loved and in front of the little Tulip they all cared for and loved so much )
[break][break]...Why does she keep coming back here?
[break][break]There is no closure. There will never be a closure.
[break][break]Why search for answers when they could not be found anymore?
[break][break]She closes her eyes and sighs, collecting her things. She must leave; there is nothing to gain from painting here. Her latest canvas may make it to the art auction... once her equipment are in her bag, she turns to leave the flower hills. Unsatisfied.
[break][break]She has made it a Spring tradition to come back there only once a year.
[break][break]But returning only brings her the pain Spring had given her so many years ago.
[break][break]( because perhaps she does not accept what had happened. perhaps to live again in the memories of her family who were unjustly murdered for existing )
[break][break]...For her, Spring truly is a cruel season.
[googlefont=Roboto]I will not be using a template because I'm lazy, soooo- Also, it's really short and not written from the perspective of a character just mine I guess? Make what you will of it, I enjoyed writing it. c:
Spring is a fleeting thing – alighting to the ground as a bird to its tree, and gone just as quickly. It fascinates weary senses weighed down by winter’s lifeless, colorless landscape, carrying the earthy nostalgia of damp, new growth on its breezes. It comes without your knowledge, singing away early mornings to the tune of starlings and larks, until you stop to listen, and realize you can hear it. It pitters and patters like raindrops on your windows and roof, reminding you to step outside and wash away the doubts of yesterday. Spring only lasts one fortnight – you could measure its length by the blossoms on the trees, fragile in their precious moment, beautiful in all their delicacy and gentle color. And then, just as it was there one day, it’s gone the next.
Hey guys, just a heads up that this contest closes on the eighth - make sure all entries and votes are in! For anyone who doesn't want to participate that's okay too but make sure to vote for your favorite entry!