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itesfashion · 7 years ago

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The english language Investigation Guide On the internet: Be Communicative!

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ladiesfashion25 · 7 years ago

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The english language Investigation Guide On the internet: Be Communicative!

Our The english language groundwork helper supplier made some pointers that may assist you to draw your visitors and also make them take note of you carefully.

The post The english language Investigation Guide On the internet: Be Communicative! appeared first on Guest Blogging Platform for Jewelry & Fashion.

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ijustwant2playthegame · 11 years ago

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Depend on You. A Dangan Ronpa one-shot.

3411 words. A story featuring Santa Shikiba, the Ultimate Botanist. Featuring Yasuhiro Hagakure, the Ultimate Clairvoyant.

A/N: I haven’t written anything in ages, so this is my first new foray into writing, with fanfiction (because that is how everyone starts out writing, right?) I had much fun and trouble to find out how to write Shikiba, because he has pretty much nothing except art and a mention on him.

Well…here goes.

The sakura pedals fell on top of me as I slept. My body lay on the bright verde grass, next to the colossal tree producing the beautiful blossomed rain below; those large branches becoming thicker and thicker until it reaches the shaft of the tree, the base being as sturdy as possible against such strong forces of gravity. It was a beautiful sight to see, such a healthy beautiful, ecosystem was such a beautiful thing. The the rest of the garden—there was no way to put it—it was paradise. A vivid clash of colors surrounded me: forest greens, light pinks, fiery reds, an earthy brown, a happy yellow, warms and cools and earths all co-existing in a carefree manner. All free of corruption, tyranny, hurt, heartache, despair—all topped by the grandest shade of blue anyone can even fathom. Such powerful colors and such beautiful forces of nature at work. The beauty of it all, it put a tear to my eye. It gave me a reason to keep doing what I love, it gave me peace. There wasn’t much else to it. A place where I could find peace in this crazy world….it was all I wanted. It was all I ever—

The sound of loud music blasting crashed my peace once more as one eye opened, then the other. My head felt full of clouds, trying to wake from the precious slumber.

“Hnng…7 am….already?” I murmured, side-eying the phone that doubled as an alarm clock. My mind was still hazy..but there was something important today.

"7 AM? OH MY GOD!" I realized what I had to do, and darted out the bed faster than a fly chasing away from a human hand. My daily routine, which usually consisted of a shower, tooth-brushing, and a quick stretch was hurried as I tried to get to my destination. White overcoat being put on while a comb gets ran through the jungle that is hair, rushed styled into a slingshot shape – there wasn’t any other way to put it— and while still jagged, the attire was ready to go. The door slammed behind me as I started my way past the halls of the academy; loud footsteps and constant apologies were stretched from the first floor, second, and the other floors until I reached the fifth floor, which was oft used except for those whose business was being there, me being one of those said people.

A few minutes, some odd number of stairs, and a few near-tumbles later, I reached my destination. The greenhouse…my hard work and cultivation of my talent, all in one place. I slowly opened the door and—to my relief—the artificial rain showers haven’t started yet.

“Phew,” I sighed, pressing a code on the thermometer that turned on the sunlight, letting the artificial sun shine on the colossal garden that is the greenhouse. The tropical styled garden consisted of many different kinds of flowers and other vegetation, such as Venus fly traps and orchids. Surrounded by the nature was an enormous flower which trumped the others in both size and beauty, which had a stem as large as a space satellite. The mixture of yellow, orange, and green was something like an art piece in an exhibit. It was divine. It was my beacon, my “flower of hope.” All of this was of my creation, from breaking ground on the artificial soil, to picking out which flowers went where, to maintaining the temperatures to make sure they were comfortable and were satisfied with their artificial home. It was all it took to show Hope’s Peak what my talent was.

My name is Santa Shikiba, and I am what the professors and scientists of Hope’s Peak Academy call, “the Ultimate Botanist”.

Hey, children of mine, I pursed in my mind. The flowers were like my offspring, in a way. I took care of them, and they showed their appreciation in their health and beauty-in most ways a human child would. Well…it was at least how I saw things. I walked around the circular path, taking in everything. It was like every day was a fresh one, a new experience whenever I entered this room. I hope you are enjoying your day, little ones, I continued to think. I get easily distracted by the plants, aesthetically for the multiple palettes of color that each plant possess, and scientifically for their inner workings, the cell walls, the membranes, the reasoning behind their shapes, the way they bloom…Botany is pretty much my life.

I continued my train of thought until I felt a wet sensation on my hand, then another, until I felt liquid all over me. It was 7:30, and the rain shower system was turned on, enveloping the entire greenhouse in a fine mist. I briskly walked to the thermometer, looking at the temperatures and other information that was the touchscreen. I recorded all the information in my electroID, and quickly exited, shaking myself off to little avail. My hair got ruined, its trademark slingshot shape dissolved into a matted mess of wetness.

“I have got to start keeping track of time,” I said to myself sarcastically before wiping more water off my coat, settling on being slightly damp the rest of the day.

I don’t know what really attracted me to the world of botany, I guess I have always loved nature in a way. It just stuck with me. I wasn’t really too well-rounded of a person, or at least I don’t think I was. Most of my childhood was a blur, filled with stereotypical parents who were somewhat strict but mostly normal and having bully problems in school. I guess from thinking of it, I did have somewhat of what people call a “bad childhood”, which I don’t really get because most of the people I’ve met have had similarly stereotypical and boring childhoods. Then again, I did live overseas for a long time, so their definition may have been different than mine. It was pretty much nothing to write home about in my opinion. One thing I did admire, however, as a kid was the way my mom did gardening. Come to think about, my mom had a huge influence in me becoming so fascinated with botany. The way her research was— from what soil to use to which plants thrive in certain terrains—and the beauty of her hard work and research was what drew me in. She wasn’t much into the scientific aspects like I was, but it was like she was studying flowers for years in the flawless way she would keep her garden looking healthy and vibrant. Throughout most of my secondary school career, before I was selected to attend Hope’s Peak, I researched and experimented with different flowers. I cross-pollinated and managed to cultivate what the Hope Flower is. The funniest part about it was that it just happened by accident. But doesn’t most miracles happen by accident?

I semi-briskly walked onto the first floor, just in time to reach my first class–advanced calculus. Oh how I struggled in that class so. All the formulas, variables, derivatives, differentiations-it made my head spin every time. It sounded like a new language I wasn’t exposed to before, like Sanskrit. It went by without much of a hitch, looking at the notes of the lecture like reading quantum physics.

“Ugh, I’ll never get this…” I cursed under my breath as I left the class, by that time it was time for lunch. As I left the classroom, I scanned the halls, observing (for lack of a better term) the rest of the students around me, much less out of being interested and more out of having something to kill time. The other “ultimate” students of the main school roamed around, meandering about the campus with idle talk and shallow conversation. I enjoyed being around the others, even though I was mostly quiet. I kept to myself mainly because of my rural accent, hidden behind a forced proper one I adopted quickly upon getting enrolled here at Hope’s Peak. I mean, it shouldn’t be a big deal…it’s a part of who I am. Maybe it was because I lived in an area where Japanese was little to non-existent, having to learn English in a crash course because of living in a country town in the middle of the States, but I have always felt…disconnected with the rest of the ultimates. The only person who I was able to talk to was someone that everyone else usually took for granted.

I heard a low murmur in my jacket pocket, it was my phone of course. I fished for it and pulled it out, showing a message from Yasuhiro Hagakure, also known by his title of Ultimate Clairvoyant…or as everyone else has called him, crazy.

Yo Santa-chi, it’s Kure What up

I looked at the screen blankly, a smile appearing on my face almost immediately. He was the only one who talked to me, and honestly, I liked it that way for some reason. I had no idea or reason why I liked it when he communicated with me. Maybe it was because he was the only one who bothered to talk to me? Out of pity? Of course not! My fingers swiftly came up with a reply.

I just got out of class. Calculus, I hate the stuff. I am doing well, you?

Back in my phone it went, as I entered the cafeteria, which was bustling with life during the lunch time. All the students were piled up just like in the corridors, full of conversation and energy, something that I definitely needed right about this time.

Another beep. It’s Kure again.

I see you!!! come here bro

I looked up and around to to see a tanned hand waving, in the back followed by a swish of extraordinarily bushy and large loc of hair swish. Near his table were a few other students, none of which I knew by name, unfortunately.

Yup, that’s Kure.

I slowly but confidently walked over to the tall but lanky clairvoyant, greeting the unknown students with a bow before sitting down next to Hagakure. He was talking to the others about a time where he had a hamburger of his abducted into space…or so he said.

“And then the aliens came down and my burger started to float! Turns out it was only 88% beef other than what the restaurant said, so I sewed their asses!” The unknowns laughed nervously, seemingly interested in his conversation when in reality, they just wanted to get out of there. That much I picked up on going to the table. After the others left, it was just me and the taller one alone at the table.

“Good afternoon, or should I say, konnichiwa gozaimasu, Kure. What brings the text?” I carefully said, taking special attention to keep my accent from slipping.

“Just wanted to check on my good bud, and make sure-” his voice lowered to a whisper. “-there aren’t any ghosts frolicking about the school. I gave a fortune to a student a few months ago that claimed that the school is haunted.” The fear in his voice was growing as he spoke. “They say in f-faculty d-dorms thearehauntedroomsbydeadstudentsohmygodwearegonnadie!” He didn’t even get to finish the story as he crouched down below the table, clapping his hands together above his head, as if in prayer. “Oh god whatever deity is there, come save us from the ghost!” His screaming made the whole cafeteria turn to see the horrible spectacle, which meant they were turned to me in confusion as well. If this were an anime, I would have had many a tear-drop on me. I quickly leaned into Kure and violently whisphered, “Hagakure, stop ya’ screamin’! Ya makin’ everyone look ad us funny!” It was all in English, and the only thing worse, his accent slipped. The whisphered outburst only confused the slightly mentally compromised psychic.

“Wha, what was that?” he looked up at me with fear and disarray in his eyes. “Did the ghost possess you?” He was still screaming, the makeshift prayer being uttered even louder.

I was immediately taken aback by the accusation. “No!” I whispered back, “I am not possessed..just forget what you heard and come back up. There is no ghost here at Hope’s Peak!”

“Really?” he replied, slowly getting back up to a crowd of students surrounding me and him. It was truly a despairingly embarrassing moment, if there was such a thing.

“Yes, there is no ghost.” I repeated back to him softly, regaining my composure around this. The rest of the students have turned back to their usual routine after the break of entertainment at mine and Kure’s chagrin.

I gotta get out of here before I get more embarrassed. “Kure, I gotta go.” With that I picked up my bag and what was left of my dignity. “I have an assignment to finish. I will text you later.” I was so embarrassed and there wasn’t any reason why everything happened the way it did. I felt like I could die. Semi-running out the cafeteria, I nearly made a beeline for my door, opening it, going in and shutting it as quick as lightening.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, I recited in my head repeatedly, trying to keep calm to avail. my hands were shaking from what felt like anxiety. Dear God, I need to go. I knew exactly where to go, but…shit this…This was a mistake. I never should have come to the cafe to meet Kure, despite how much he actually meant to me. Which was alot since he actually talked to me. Out of frustration, I went to my bed and nearly slammed my face onto the pillow, wanting to forget about the whole day. In a matter of minutes, I entered the world of slumber, wanting to get to those sakura pedals one more time.

Bzzt? Bzzzt. Another buzz from my phone. Who was it this time? The bzzzt abruptly woke up from my coma, and I woke to a message. When I saw who it was from, my lethargy went away almost immediately.

Hey bro I’m sorry for earlier what can I do to make it up to you

It was Hagakure….My eyes stayed glued to the screen for what seemed like a full minute, trying to come up with a response. I was mad, but not really mad at him…more embarrassed and frustrated. It was a dumb situation that I probably would have overreacted on anyway, right? Another beep interrupted my thoughts.

Meet me in the garden

“Meet me in the garden?” It was definitely a weird request, but coming from Kure, it didn’t seem so strange. I took him on this request and went on to the garden. It was a little after nighttime. I didn’t know what I was expecting, so I didn’t do anything different, but the question that ran through my head as I went in was, What was Kure gonna do? I walked in to..nothing different, really. The only thing that broke the usual monotony of the fifth floor greenhouse was the low light and a hug? The tall clairvoyant hugged me, his arms wrapped around my smaller frame.

“I’m sorry for the embarrassment earlier Santa-chi,” he said softly, which was different from his usual loud tone of voice. It definitely let my guard down and let me become comfortable in his embrace. “For serious! I figured here would be safe from any kind of occult behavior.”

“It’ okay, Kure, Ya didn’t mean ta do it,” I replied back, my true accent coming out, but I think this was kind of right. The last part of the apology I ended up ignoring. He broke the hug and then walked over to the chicken coop. It was oft used, but for some reason there were always were chickens inside. I knew there was a class that had some students taking care of the chickens as a part of a project, but that was a while ago, if I remembered correctly.

“I have a question for you, Kure. Have you been taking care of those chickens…?”

“Yeah, for the past few months after the assignment. I didn’t wanna get rid of them, so I took ‘em under my wing. They are kind of like my children, in a way. Haha, this reminds me of the time I gave Makoto-chi a fortune that said that mine and his children are gonna have the same mother! He was so mortified when I told him that! I said that with my 30% probability, it was sure to happen for serious!”

My face was still locked in awe of the live, healthy chickens that were in the coop. They were clucking as if they had nothing to do, and as if there was nothing else they could live for. Then again, there were being taken care of very well. It looks like Kure really cared for the chickens, like I took care of this garden.

“That’s really cool, Kure.” I replied, turning back to see him. My heart felt a heavy sensation, a warm one. Thinking about it, it was a way that Hagakure and me were similar. Even if it was with somewhat different intentions, the feeling was still the same. We both had something that depended on us to survive. “I never woulda’ expected this from ya, to be honest.”

“I come in every now and again to take care of ‘em. It gives me something to do whenever I’m trying to relax,” his voice lightened up along with his countenance, a small smile appearing on it. “Are you the same with your chickens?”

I shook my head yes. “Well, of course! I am the Ultimate Botanist for a reason, right? Hehe..”

He replied back with a laugh, grabbing a band in his pocket and pulling it back.”It definitely shows!” He turned around and lifted his hand to the colossal flower behind them. “I mean, you did create this big hunk of awesome, right?”

“Yeah, the Hope Flower. It was what got me here in th’ first place.” I was proud of my contribution to hope, what was what the professors said all the Ultimates had in common. There was a certain kind of hope that the headmaster had told us we had possessed among our talents, and it was the reason why we were chosen to attend Hope’s Peak Academy. The concept of hope bringing people together was a somewhat foreign one to me, but it bought me into this school. There were romours going around before my class was chosen that claimed that the reason the school existed was to study the potential of human talent, cultivating talents of high school students into something that could give the rest of the world hope for a better tomorrow. It was a really farfetched rumor, but something in me believed it. I was a part of that hope. Hagakure was a part of that hope. If the rumors were true, it did give me something to depend on, something to look forward to…something to live for. The professors may have well depended on us to put our talents to good use here so we can do so in the real world. If all that was true, I was eternally hopeful.

“Hey Kure…whatcha think of the concept of hope, us being in Hope’s Peak and whatnot?” I was curious to see what he thought.

He sat down by the tool shed, and I followed suit, listening to his testimony about hope. I was surprised to learn that he had a similar mindset, addressing the rumors with a seemingly unbiased approach. He believed that hope was something that was difficult to keep, and that everyone should at least attempt to work hard to keep the hope alive. He also felt the need to mention that he was kind of the lazy one at times, so not to keep his word as true fact.

Hours upon hours passed by as Kure and me made conversation. I officially made a new friend. I’ve never really had a good one before, so it was a pretty new experience. The time seemed to stop until I felt a drop of water on me. I knew exactly what time it was then.

“Oh dang, we’ve been in here for that long?”

It was 7:30 and the sprinklers came on.

#dangan ronpa #speakerwriting #santa shikiba #yasuhiro hagakure #santakure #fanfiction #feel free to critique

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by-speaker · 10 months ago

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Primer Beso (English Ver.)

You know that feeling of the floor moving when you're in a very tall building and people walk past you? Missa was having that same feeling right now.

You see, Missa and his boyfriend, how exciting it was to be able to call Philza like that, had skipped PE class, it was a useless class anyway, and had escaped to the rooftop to talk about life and stuff.

So they were lying on the concrete floor watching the clouds go by, listening to a CD Phil had burned for them, with no real worries or problems.

‘Hey, Missa?’ Philza asked, taking the brunet's hand in his, trying to snuggle up next to him, they had sacrificed his sweatshirt to lay on the ground and the cold October wind was playing havoc with his skin.

‘Yes, Phil?’ the Mexican asked, pulling him closer to his body, seeing how the older man was shivering a little.

‘Can I give you a kiss?’ the blond asked, which surprised Missa.

They hadn't had their first kiss yet, and frankly Missa hadn't expected Philza to ask. They were both 15, and it was going to be their first kiss. So Missa excitedly nodded.

Philza rose slightly from his position lying on Missa's side and with frankly a bit of awkwardness placed a kiss on the lips of the brunet, who felt his whole world shake.

𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓢𝓹𝓸𝓸𝓴𝔂 𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸��𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼

Hello and Welcome to Raven Cincaide's ' A Sweet and Spooky' Halloween & Love inspired prompts for Oktober 2024

Day 1. First Kiss | Campus Crush | Costume Shopping

Day 2. Cuddling | Best Friends | Halloween Decor

Day 3. Distance | Ex- lover | Pumpkin Carving

Day 4. Lying | Rockstar | “What ARE You Wearing?”

Day 5. Love Language | Plushies | Horror Movies

Day 6. Fight/Altercation | Newcomer | Corn Maze

Day 7. Compromise | Soul Mates| Halloween Party

Day 8. Forgiveness | Arranged Marriage | Farmers Market

Day 9. Praise | Status Gap | Pumpkin Spiced Latte

Day 10. Little Touches | One Night Stand | Haunted House

Day 11. Lack Of Effort | Amnesia| Graveyard Dare

Day 12. Talking | Holiday Fling | Carnival

Day 13. Neglect | Forbidden Love | Ghosts

Day 14. Kisses | Trapped | Amusement Park

Day 15. Pressure | Enemies To Lovers | Black Cat

Day 16. Massage | Age Gap | Matching Costumes

Day 17. No reply | Second Chances | Halloween Candy

Day 18. Stepping Out | Oblivious Love | Nightmares

Day 19. Quality Time | Rivals | Trick Or Treat

Day 20. Nights out | Injury | Hunting Someone

Day 21. Anniversary | Rejected | Superstitions

Day 22. Teasing/Banter | Redemption | Horror Books

Day 23. Standoffishness | Different Worlds| Fears

Day 24. Hugs | Dude In Distress | Halloween Cooking

Day 25. Silence | Colleagues| Strange Noise

Day 26. Gifts | Sworn Off Relationships | Rituals

Day 27. Cute Nicknames | Jealousy | Halloween Night

Day 28. Physical Touch |Secret Identity | Ouija Board

Day 29. Little ‘Love you’s’ | Lost Heir| Summon a Demon

Day 30. Patting Back | Pen Pals | Cast a Curse

Day 31. Pick and Mix

I am so excited to share this list with you! It’s a mix of Love/ Angst, Common Romance Tropes and of course Halloween themes! These were originally created with SFW content in mind but it's easy to use them for some NSFW creations as well ;)

After all these are only suggestions but I hope they inspire you to create something this fall season. You’re more than welcome to share, move around or come up with your own prompts based on these. And of course you’re welcome to use the banner if you’d like :)

Also, if you do decide to create something based on these prompts, please tag me (here or @raven-cincaide) so I have a ton of goodies to read while under the blanket with my tea.

So pick a day/ a prompt and lets get writing!

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by-speaker · 10 months ago

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Talking (ENG. VER)

Prompts by @raven-cincaide-words

After the god left, Philza lay in bed tossing and turning, trying to think what the fuck had just happened. Should he tell his foster mother? No, Rose probably might have an aneurysm.

Philza tossed and turned in bed, his mind whirling like a hurricane, he was the centre, but it wasn't quiet, the centre of the hurricane for once wasn't silent.

He could hear Rose's disappointed voice, she had fought so hard to have custody of him and save him from the eye of the hurricane he lived in. Only out of the kindness of her heart, what could he tell her, that in a moment of sheer stupidity he bound her soul to that of death?

Philza sighed, running his hands through his hair, How was I supposed to say this to Rose, he thought, Hey, mum, remember you told me not to do anything stupid last night? Well I linked my soul with the god of death, but don't worry he doesn't want to kill me, he's just a possessive freak, the thought made him let out a nervous laugh, but the laugh died quickly in his throat.

He rolled over in bed, staring at the ceiling, what if he didn't say anything? After all, it felt like a drunken dream or hallucination… No, he couldn't lie to Rose, not after everything she had done for him, besides Missa couldn't be real, could he? His eyes were too deep, his lips too perfect, his presence was too… divine.

No, he couldn't be thinking like that about a God, he couldn't be thinking like that about death. If he went on like this he was probably going to go nuts, and he was only seventeen, he couldn't go nuts so young, he didn't even know what he wanted to study yet.

The sudden light in his room startled him, standing in front of him, again, was Missa, those galaxies she had for eyes piercing him again.

‘I can hear you thinking, querido, you worry me.’ Said the god, in that sickly sweet tone with which he addresses Phil.

Phil himself startled, genuinely scared of what the god might do to him, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Can't a God care about his beloved?’ he said with an intoxicating sweet smile.

‘I'm not your beloved, I'm just a stupid drunk who kissed a statue on a dare.’

Missa laughed, ‘Even Persephone ate the pomegranate seeds by mistake.’

Philza felt his heart race at the comparison. ‘I'm not Persephone,’ he said, trying to sound firm despite the tremor in his voice. ‘And you are not Hades.’

Missa tilted his head, his smile never wavering. ‘No, you're right. We're much more interesting than they are, don't you think?’

Philza pressed himself against the wall, as if he could melt into it and escape this situation. ‘Missa, please. This… this can't be real. You can't just claim me because I kissed a statue.’

‘Oh, querido,’ Missa moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. Philza could feel the chill emanating from his body. ‘I don't claim you just because of the kiss. I claim you because you are special. Because you woke me up when no one else could in millennia.’

Philza swallowed, his eyes fixed on Missa's. It was like looking straight into the cosmos, beautiful and terrifying at the same time. ‘But… but I'm nobody special. I'm just a normal kid, with normal problems. I have a foster mother who cares about me, friends who dare me to do stupid things, grades I need to keep up with to get scholarships, and ordinary problems, I'm just ordinary, Missa.’

Missa reached out a hand, almost touching Philza's cheek but stopping millimetres from his skin. ‘And yet it was you who brought me back. That makes you extraordinary, Philza.’

Philza closed his eyes, unable to hold Missa's gaze any longer. ‘I can't… I can't handle this. I'm seventeen, for God's sake. Not only that, but I can't be tied to death.’

‘Age is irrelevant to immortals, querido,’ Missa whispered. ‘And as for being bound to death? Aren't all mortals, in one way or another?’ Said the God, an almost beautiful smile plastered on his face.

Philza's eyes snapped open, surprised by the depth of those words. ‘I… I don't know what to say.’

Missa smiled, and for a moment, Philza saw more than possessiveness in those cosmic eyes. He saw loneliness, he saw longing, he saw what more than a millennium of loneliness could do in a man. ‘You don't have to say anything, Philza. You just have to accept that this is real. That I am real. That what binds us together is real.’

‘But what about my life?’ asked Philza, his voice barely a whisper. ‘What do I tell Rose? My friends?’

Missa rose, his ethereal figure glowing softly in the gloom of the room. ‘That, my dear Philza, is something we will have to discover together. After all, we have all eternity ahead of us.’

With these words, Missa began to glow, his room smelled of marigolds, the sound of crows rang out and thunder rolled in the distance.

‘Wait,’ Philza said, surprising himself. ‘Will you come back?’

Missa's smile was the last thing to fade. ‘Always, querido. I will always be with you.’

And with that, Philza was left alone again in his room, his body trembling and the floor of his room littered with orange petals and black feathers. Philza was left questioning what had just happened.

#qsmp #qsmp pissa #pissa #pissa nation #speakerwriting #missasinfonia #qsmp missa #deathduo #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp philza

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by-speaker · 9 months ago

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Dude in Distress (ENG. VER.)

Prompts by @raven-cincaide-words

Philza knew his boyfriend was a horrible fighter, Missa was a pacifist not a fighter. Still, he couldn't help but be surprised when his boyfriend came screaming into ‘Casa bonita’ with a bunch of mobs following close behind him and his only weapon being a stick he surely found lying around.

‘PHIL!’ Missa's cry, who sounded utterly desperate, echoed across the island, ‘PHIL, MY LOVE, MY LIFE, HELP!’

Philza looked up from where he was helping Tallulah plant a couple of flowers, to see her boyfriend running like hell, with zombies, skeletons and creepers hot on his heels. The stick was nothing more than a prop, because his boyfriend was simply waving it like a flytrap around his head.

‘DEAR PLEASE!’ Missa shouted, stumbling up the steps to the entrance, barely managing to dodge a couple of arrows, ’I'M TOO CUTE TO DIE!’

‘It's literally death,’ she chuckled to Tallulah, grabbing her sword and shield to save her boyfriend, after all, what kind of knight would he be if he didn't save his damsel in distress.

‘It's literally death,’ repeated Chayanne, who had just arrived with a basket full of apples, only to see his dad Missa running in circles around Tallulah's garden, waving the stick as if shooing away flies.

‘PHILZA!’ Missa shrieked as a creeper got too close for her liking. ‘MY HEAVEN, MY KING, MY EVERYTHING, HURRY UP!’

Phil couldn't help but laugh as he ran to the rescue. It was funny how someone who could make the bravest warrior tremble with just his presence could be so dramatic over a couple of mobs. Tallulah watched from a safe distance, clapping her hands in excitement every time her dad Phil took down a creature.

‘MY HERO!’ Missa exclaimed, throwing herself dramatically into Phil's arms once the last zombie fell. ‘My brave knight, my prince charming, my-’

‘Papa Missa,’ interrupted Chayanne, 'you literally could have wiped them out just by thinking about it.'

‘Ah, but then your father couldn't show off,’ Missa replied with a wink, still hanging onto Phil's neck. ’Besides, have you seen how handsome he looks when he fights?’

#qsmp #qsmp pissa #pissa #pissa nation #missasinfonia #qsmp missa #speakerwriting #deathduo #qsmp philza #qsmp fanfiction

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by-speaker · 9 months ago

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Rituals (ENG. VER)

Prompts by @raven-cincaide-words and Happy Halloween!

There were rituals that were purely Missa — lighting incense every morning, leaving offerings of fresh bread and water, murmuring blessings in Nahuatl while hanging fresh cempasúchil in the windows. Santa Muerte had its own traditions to uphold, after all.

There were rituals that were uniquely Philza's — boiling water three times for morning tea, hanging horseshoes over every new door, whispering ‘white rabbit’ on the first day of the month. The Angel of Death had his own customs to observe.

And then there were the rituals they had created together, as a family.

Every night, without fail, Missa would tuck Tallulah in while Philza read a story to Chayanne. Then they would exchange children — Philza would kiss Tallulah's forehead and tuck in her nightcap, while Missa would sing softly to Chayanne until his eyes closed. It was their nightly ritual, as sacred as any ceremony.

‘Why do they always have to do everything in that order?’ asked Chayanne once, half asleep.

‘Because that's the way it should be,’ Missa replied simply, running his bony fingers through his son's blond hair. ‘Like the sun rises every morning and the moon rises every night.’

Sundays had their own rituals. Philza refused to do laundry, of course, but he compensated by helping Missa clean the altars. It was a curious sight - Death and the Angel of Death, side by side, dusting off the offerings and swapping wilted flowers for fresh ones.

‘Isn't it a bit redundant that Death has an altar?’ asked Philza once, as she held up a fresh bouquet of cempasúchil.

Missa smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement beneath his mask. ‘Isn't it redundant that the Angel of Death fears bad luck?’

Tallulah had her own rituals as well. Every morning, without fail, she brushed her hair exactly one hundred times — she had counted it once and refused to do it any other way ever since. Then Missa or Philza (whoever was available) would braid her hair, always ending with a purple ribbon.

‘It has to be purple,’ she insisted in sign language. ‘It's the colour of royalty.’

‘Of course, princess,’ Philza replied each time, as Missa hid his smile behind his mask.

Chayanne, for his part, kept a secret ritual that not even his parents knew about. Every night, before going to sleep, he would take out his Technoblade stuffed animal and tell him about his day in whispers. He would tell her about his training, about Tallulah's antics, about the stories Missa brought back from her travels, about Philza's superstitions.

‘I know it's silly,’ he once confessed to his stuffed animal, ’but I like to think that somehow you can hear me.’

What Chayanne didn't know was that Missa, being who he was, could ensure that somewhere in the afterlife, Technoblade smiled every time he heard his little admirer's stories.

#qsmp #qsmp pissa #pissa #pissa nation #missasinfonia #qsmp missa #speakerwriting #deathduo #qsmp philza #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp tallulah #qsmp chayanne #dsmp techno #technoblade

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by-speaker · 1 year ago

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No se si ya lo reblogue pero ARF ARF ARF HOADVJOQDEJÑOKQFE

anyway -

SnickPiCK

Era temprano en la mañana, el sol brillaba fuerte sobre las cabezas, Vegetta estaba conversando con su nuevo socio, Philza.

“Mire yo le soy bien sincero, Señor Watson, producimos lo suficiente para proveer su restaurante y sus hoteles, pero todo depende de su disposición”

“¡Papi!”

Ambos Alphas giraron a mirar a la casa, en la puerta de la casa estaba Missa, llevaba un vestido floral, un delantal, y su hermoso cabello negro estaba amarrado con un pañuelo.

“¡¿Se va a quedar a comer el señor?!”

Vegetta soltó una pequeña risa, “Mi hijo mayor, Missael, espero que sea de su agrado la comida que prepare.”

El hombre soltó una risa, “Si no es molestía y pueden acomodar dos bocas más, mi hijo mayor está esperándome en el carruaje.”

Missa le sonrió, “por supuesto, deje lo acompaño, tengo que buscar a mi hijo, ¿Papi, no lo ha visto?”

“¿Es el pequeño rubio que está allí?” preguntó el rubio, el Omega asintió, “Es mi carruaje, déjeme acompañarlo.”

Vegetta sonrió al ver a los dos caminar del brazo y hablar contentamente, del carruaje salió un joven, bastante bello bajo los estándares de belleza, quien al parecer Missa pensó que era simpático.

@by-speaker espero k te guste ;)

Esto es para un fic en el que speaker está trabajando :DD sus wips me inspiraron tanto k incluso le hice iluminación y sombra jsjsjsjjs

#qsmp #qsmp au #pissa #qsmp missa #qsmp philza #qsmp pissa #crow art #crow post #🐦‍⬛ post #🐦‍⬛ art #speakerwriting #🐼📢

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by-speaker · 9 months ago

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Colleagues (ENG. VER.)

Prompts by @raven-cincaide-words

When you work for death you don't have many colleagues, in fact you don't have colleagues at all. Missa was used to travelling between dimensions, it was a dark and lonely place, the only light coming from the souls and the light from the portals.

So you can understand the reaper's surprise when a man with wings followed by a flock of crows crossed one of the portals. The man was blond, with cold blue eyes wrapped in a green yakuta and a green bucket hat with white stripes.

Missa froze at the end of the corridor, watching curiously as this man, this mortal looked around, this was strange, very strange. He was a stranger in the world of the non-living.

Philza froze, he had never seen such a beautiful being, his black hair was dark, it almost looked like a void, as if it was the blackest black created by man. His eyes were purple, but they seemed to contain galaxies, they were so captivating that Phil could swear they moved like a portable galaxy. The man was ethereal and beautiful.

‘Who are you?’ Death said, pointing his scythe at the man, ‘What are you doing here, mortal?’

Philza lowered the scythe with his fingertips, ‘I am Philza, Philza Minecraft, the Angel of Death.’

Missa was very surprised, he didn't know his boss had found an angel, but he wasn't surprised she hadn't mentioned it, they were both a bit scatterbrained and their conversations didn't always make sense.

‘Ah, very well,’ Missa said trying to think what to do with the immortal in his realm, ’The lady sent you?’

‘Yes.’

‘How nice…’

They were both silent, both standing in the dark not quite sure what to do, until a crow broke through the silence.

‘Missa!’ The voice of the goddess came from the crow, ‘I forgot to tell you, I need you to train Phil to help you in your work in the dimensions he lives in, I want to take some of the workload off of you. Thank you, I love you both, bye — bye.’

They both looked at each other, trying not to laugh at the goddess's carelessness, in the end succumbing to laughter.

Missa gave a small mouse to the crow that had delivered the message, as a silent ‘thank you’ to the corvid. And then he motioned for Phil to follow him.

‘Well,’ said death reaching for his next soul, ’if you're going to work with me let's start with the basics, first we'll go to a multiplayer world to take a soul, then I'll teach you how to return it to its body if the server allows it, if not let's transfer it to the soul bank, got it?’

Philza nodded, mentally taking note of everything, though he was still processing that he would be working side by side with someone as peculiar as Missa. He had imagined the realm of death as a place full of solemn secrets and prohibitions, but it seemed that, at least with Missa, everything was much more… every day. And that made it all the more intriguing.

‘So… a soul bank,’ Philza murmured, smirking. ‘Sounds like something pretty serious.’

Missa looked at him with a mixture of amusement and some pride. ‘It's an efficient system. We have souls from all dimensions, and when one needs to return, it's searched the bank and given access back.’ He paused, shooting her a quick glance. ‘Don't think you can touch it yet. That takes a lot of practice.’

‘Got it, boss,’ Philza replied with a playful grin, following him into the shadows.

Missa led him through a vast dark space, the floor beneath his feet looked like polished ebony, and occasionally, small lights-perhaps souls-crossed the space, twinkling like shooting stars. Philza felt strangely comfortable, as if this alien and sinister world was no longer so intimidating now that he had Missa as his guide.

‘First, let's practice on a simple world,’ Missa explained as they approached a portal that glowed with a silvery hue. ‘It's a peaceful server, but there are still accidents. So, every now and then, we pick up some clueless soul.’

Philza nodded. ‘Sounds perfect. And you… Have you always done this alone?’

The question made Missa look at him with a softer expression. ‘Yes, for the most part. Sometimes the goddess comes along and helps, but… it's a lonely job. I guess I'm used to not having colleagues.’ He shrugged, as if that was simply part of his existence.

Philza nodded silently, feeling an unexpected empathy for Missa's loneliness. ‘Well,’ he said, smiling as she prepared to step through the portal, ’I guess you have a colleague now.’

The two shared a knowing smile before darkness enveloped them and their first training in the strange and mysterious world of mortals and souls began.

#qsmp #pissa #qsmp pissa #pissa nation #missasinfonia #speakerwriting #qsmp missa #deathduo #qsmp philza #qsmp fanfiction #kristen mumza #mumza goddess of death

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by-speaker · 10 months ago

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Forbbiden Love (ENG. VER.)

prompts by @raven-cincaide-words

Philza staggered through the corridors of the school, he had slept little and nothing, the image of Missa standing in his room made him tremble, he didn't know whether from fear or excitement, everything about Missa felt almost forbidden, as if the mere thought of the God was illegal, as if the mention of his name was a crime and as if the presence of it itself a sin.

‘Hey, Philza!’ Fit's shout in his ear snapped him out of his reverie, ‘Hell, you look like you've seen a ghost, dude.’

Something like that, Phil thought humorously, ‘Ha ha ha, I just had one of those nights, Fit.’

‘Everything all right?’ his friend asked, concerned for him. ‘Is it about your parents, again?’

Philza smiled at him, ‘no, no, nothing like that,’ he said then sighed, ‘it's just something that… it's not really that important, I have to process it first, that's all.’

Fit gave him one of those bright, full smiles, ‘Well if you're having trouble don't forget my ma will always welcome you home with a plate of meatballs.’

‘Thanks, Fit.’

‘Nah nonsense, all for my brother,’ he said slapping Philza on the back, ’Come on, we've got history lessons with Monsieur Etoiles.’

Phil sighed, ‘Go on, I'll catch up with you, I'm going to get my sketchbook out, if I hear Etoiles talking about columns from the Romanesque period one more time with nothing to do I'll kill myself.’ Philza said, making a hanging sound.

Fit laughed, motioned for her to hurry up and grabbed Pac by the waist, giving him a slightly over the top kiss.

‘Fit, Pac!’ shouted Principal Halo from his place at the end of the hallway, ’This is a school, not a motel.’

Phil chuckled, and searched through his things for his sketchbook, but couldn't seem to find it, ‘Looking for this?’ said a voice he knew too well for Phil's liking.

‘Missa!’ shrieked Phil quietly, “What are you doing here?” he said in a whisper, taking his notebook in his hands.

‘Can't I visit you, dear?’ asked the God, those galaxies glowing with some mischief.

‘No,’ squeaked Philza, “I'm late, goodbye,” he said disappearing down the corridor.

‘Adiós, querido,’ said Missa, his words almost like a whisper on the wind.

Philza tried to ignore him, he sat down in his seat next to Fit and Pac, ready to ignore whatever it was they were going to study in history and draw something, anything, so he could breathe a little, but as he opened his notebook there was an extremely detailed drawing of him on the first page, there was a sentence below the drawing.

Para mi cuervito, xoxoxo, Missa

Philza felt a shiver run down his spine. Why couldn't Missa leave him alone? He just wants to be left alone, and live his life in peace, was that too much to ask?

Philza felt a shiver run down his spine, why couldn't Missa just leave him alone? He just wants to be quiet, and live his life in peace, was that too much to ask?

‘Woah,’ Monsieur Etoiles said, ’I didn't know you could draw so well, Philza.’

‘No, it's not mine, sir.’ Said Phil, turning the page to an empty one, ‘thanks anyway.’

‘Bonjour à tous!’ Everyone responded with a dry ‘Bonjour Monsieur Etoiles’ causing the professor to roll his eyes at the lack of enthusiasm, ‘Today we're going to talk about gods, and I wanted to start with one of my favourite gods, Moris, God of Death.’

No way, Missa was chasing him, he couldn't leave him alone.

‘Moris,’ explained Etoiles, ’is, in addition to the god of death, the guardian god of children and unjust deaths, legend has it that his first love, Philip, was taken from him at a young age, he spent his entire mortal life searching for the culprit, upon seeing his efforts, the goddess of death, Trixtin, gave him an immortal life for his endeavour.’

‘Hey Phil,’ Fit said with a laugh, “isn't that the statue you kissed?” he said loud enough for the whole class to hear.

All the colour drained from Phil's face, suddenly he was the centre of attention, and it made him want the earth to swallow him up. Monsieur Etoiles let out a chuckle.

‘’My, my, kissing gods at this age, Monsieur Watson?’ he said with a hint of derision, “Don't you know that could get you into trouble?”

Well, Philza would have liked someone to have told him that before he had kissed the statue in the graveyard. ‘I didn't know that, sir.’

‘In many ancient legends,’ said the professor, ‘there is mention of the love that Moris, or Missa, has for one particular soul, the soul of his beloved Felipe, it is told that, the god only appears for that soul, because Felipe's soul and the god's soul are bound together for all eternity.’’

Great, now I'm bound to a weirdo god for the rest of my fucking life. He grumbled in his mind, he could see how the professor kept looking at him, as if something wasn't right with him.

‘Mr. Watson, you seem overly concerned about this, what do you think of the god?’

He is incredibly annoying and clingy, ‘If he was so good, why doesn't he leave Felipe's soul alone?’

‘Because you're mine, cuervito’ a breeze rushed through the room and that's what Philza heard, the simple answer to his eternal damnation.

HELLO, HELLO, HELLO!!!

So I usually shut up and post this but, since this is becoming so popular, I was thinking. If someone makes me a cover for Wattpad and a banner, I will publish this as a longer fanfic

XOXOXO, Your Friend, Speaker.

#qsmp #qsmp pissa #pissa #pissa nation #speakerwriting #missasinfonia #qsmp missa #deathduo #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp philza

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by-speaker · 9 months ago

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Stepping out (ENG. VER)

Prompts by @raven-cincaide-words

Life in the nursery has always been quiet for Missa, it was him, the soft little rag doll, Roier, Cellbit and Bagi, the spider and kitten stuffed animals in little clothes, Maximus, a little wooden horse, and Mariana and Charlie, a Barbie and Ken, well until Chayanne came home to his little girl, Tallulah, and brought with him Etoiles, Pierre, Antoine, and Baghera, an army of little wooden soldiers, Foolish, a big rubber shark, Philza, an action man, and Vegetta, a stuffed wolf.

In Missa's simple opinion, the boy toys were savages, lacked manners, and never minded his delicate seams, well maybe almost all of them except Vegetta, the wolf was a true gentleman.

Chayanne was an energetic and chaotic boy, always creating passionate stories, tales of pirates, intergalactic ships and knights in shining armour, Philza was always the hero of those adventures.

Now that Chayanne and Tallulah were playing together, Missa found himself being the helpless victim more and more often. Missa didn't mind because he usually sat comfortably in his little chair and waited to be ‘rescued’ by Philza, but the knight was anything but a gentleman.

‘Watch out!’ shouted Chayanne, as he slammed Philza's hard plastic body into Missa's rag, making popping sounds, ’I've come to save you Missa!’

‘Chay! Missa is a little rag doll,’ Tallulah shouted back, snatching the doll from her brother's hands, ’you have to be careful with him.’

Missa felt the warmth of the little girl's hand caressing her rag doll skin, and if his smile wasn't stitched, he would have smiled wider.

‘If you want to play with me, you play the way I want,’ the boy told her, for all the mother-of-pearl buttons, how rude boys were, Missa thought.

Philza lay on the ground, unmoving and oblivious to the fight, but Missa could swear the knight's plastic was itching to spring into action, to jump up, stand at attention, shout ‘hangar’ and draw his sword.

Tallulah stroked the woollens on Missa's head, ignoring her brother for now, his girl smiled at him, and murmuring said, ‘Ignore them Missa, I'll take care of you.’

Though he could not answer her, Missa felt it. Tallulah's words were like a silent promise that echoed inside him. Every time the girl treated him with such affection, Missa felt lucky to be her favourite toy, safe from the turbulent and frantic stories that Chayanne and Philza brought with them.

‘Kids, dinner!’ That was one of the children's parents, that meant bedtime was approaching and everyone's favourite part of the day in the nursery toys was beginning.

‘Come on, Tallulah!’ shouted Chayanne, quickly forgetting the squabble.

‘I'm going to say, good night, first.’ Said Tallulah, Ay, coloured threads, at last, thought Missa.

‘Ugh!’ How rude, ’Girls, always so sentimental.’ Said the boy then ran off to the dining room.

Tallulah picked Philza up off the floor, ‘Sorry, Sir Philza, my brother isn't very careful, but don't worry, you can spend the night with Missa, he's soft.’

Tallulah set them both down on a little bed, ‘Goodnight Missa, goodnight Philza.’ Said the girl, giving each of them a kiss on the forehead.

‘Good night, Cellbit, Bagi and Roier,’ said the girl, changing them into their nightclothes and tucking them into their beds.

‘Good night, Maximus, tomorrow morning I will bring you more hay.’ Said the girl, combing the mane of the wooden horse.

‘Good night, Mariana and Charlie,’ the girl tucked the plastic dolls into their doll house.

‘Good night, Etoiles, Pierre, Antoine, and Baghera, you can rest now, soldiers.’ Said the little girl, taking off their little hats and putting away their weapons.

‘Good night, Foolish, may you dream of little fishes.’ Said the girl, stroking the shark's fin.

‘And good night, Mr. Vegetta,’ said the little girl giving the wolf's fur a kiss, ’have a nice night and sweet dreams, little toys.’ The little girl said goodbye.

As the little girl stepped out of the nursery, the toys came to life.

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