▍ 𝐄𝐑𝐑Ø𝐑 ! ↳ ❪ 𝖺 𝖽𝗌𝗆𝗉 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 . . . ❫ ❛ OH DARLING LOOK HOW DIRTY YOU'VE MADE ME BECOME ❜ 🍷 ָ࣪ ۰ 🍒 › imagine being in a society in which sanity no longer exists in this world. ────── ◦'𖥸'◦ ────── 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗿𝘀 . . . the reader will be using she!her pronouns. if you are not comfy with it, please adjust and change it to your preferred pronouns !! &&. 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 humanoid au, slight yandere behavior, violence, gore, and mature content. ❛ ALTHOUGH, I KNOW WE'RE APART. YOU'RE PART OF MY HEART AND TONIGHT, YOU BELONG TO ME ❜ dsmp 𝙭 reader © hanamocha ⸝⸝ 2020 &&. art creds: @shinohahara_shirushi desc and book cover by @conyoizana.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK 1 --- Tacenda; pl (plural only): Things that are not to be spoken about or made public. Things that are best left unsaid. --- He was unlike anyone else you had seen before. There was a certain confidence about him that drew everyone's eye. His hair was tied back into a messy plait, but it was the color that was the most striking, a bright pink that contrasted the dark red and black of his robes. His face was mostly obscured by the mask of his people, but you could just make out the shape of his jaw and a flash of sharp teeth when he smiled. He was dangerous - but he was magnetic.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK 2 --- Versailles (proper noun). The argument over the etymology of Versailles tends to privilege the Latin word 'versare', meaning "to keep turning, turn over and over", an expression used in medieval times for plowed lands, cleared lands (lands that had been repeatedly "turned over"). --- He wasn't like any endermen you had seen before - probably because he wasn't fully an enderman. He was tall like an enderman, but that was where the similarity ended. He was split down the middle - half of his skin the same inky black as the twins, the other half a radiant white. His eyes didn't match either - one blood red and the other emerald green. His hair fell in soft waves, almost obscuring his eyes at times, and he kept his head tilted down, his sharp jawline on display. He seemed timid, but that might have just been the situation - anyone behind bars would likely hang their head.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK 4 --- Gladius, (noun): (in ancient Rome) a short sword. --- Eret perked up as soon as you and Simon walked into the room, a wide and welcoming smile coming onto his face. He was softer looking than his father had been, but you could still see some of the similar traits. He had a head of thick dark curls, and the same sharp jaw that his father had had. He wasn't as bulky though - he was tall and thin - and his face was a lot more open. What separated him most from his father's likeness though was the colorful cape, and the large mirrored glasses he wore - swirling with colors reflected from the room. He stood from his seat when Maven let the doors swing shut behind her, that wide smile still on his face. "You must be the embassy." "And you must be King Eret." You said, stooping into a bow. "Oh, there's no need for that." Eret said as you rose from your bow. He stepped down from the dias where his throne sat - colorful cape trailing behind him - and came to stand in front of you, taking your hand instead. "I'm not really one for formalities." He grinned, shaking your hand. His palm was warm against yours, and you could feel some slight callouses - most likely from practicing his sword work.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK FIVE ---- Tryst (noun): a private romantic rendezvous between lovers, "a moonlight tryst". ---- Your eyes drifted upwards catching onto the glint of the sword that had saved you and following the curve of the blade upwards until you came to a knarled hand, with dirt under the fingernails. You followed the arm upwards until you reached his face - partly obscured underneath a green and white striped hat. You were able to catch onto blue eyes and the scruff of a beard underneath a mop of blonde hair though. What drew your attention most though, was the crow's wings behind him, flared out and glinting by the light of the sword. You hadn't even heard him swoop down for the approach. For someone who hadn't been seen in over a century, the Angel of Death looked young... too young. But then he was spinning away, wings flapping behind him so that he hovered over the ground as he sliced through anything that came too close for comfort. Even the skeletons a ways away weren't safe from his flames when their zombie counterparts came staggering too close. Soon enough, the dark forest was alight with burning undead creatures, providing a light source for you to stagger up to your feet as the Angel slid his sword back into it's scabbard. You weren't expecting him to round on you like he did, fire in his eyes. "What the hell are you doing?"

THE FALL OF AN EMPIRE BOOK TWO -- Approaching Anoitos' temple again, you opened the door, turning as you stepped inside to close it again. The door closing with a satisfying clunk, you spun back around, intending to just quickly bow your head and grab your beads without much circumstance. You were not expecting to see a man, mid-way through stuffing his face with the plate of offerings you had brought, at the altar, his eyes blown wide with panic and focused on you. You stared back at him. "I- you- what are you doing? Who are you? How-?" You turned halfway back to the door, intending to run for one of the guards. "Wait!" The man's voice drew your attention back to him, just in time to see his appearance shift slightly - like there was something behind the mirage of his skin. For a moment - the man was gone, and in his place, a living replica of the hulking gold warrior depicted in the statue took his place. Your hand dropped from the handle of the door, staring up at the god before you. Out of all the times for your prayers to be answered... and of all ways, like this... "See?" He said, shrinking back to the man you had seen before, the boyish smile you knew so well still on his face. "It's just me!" Standing before you, with crumbs of bread on his face, was Anoitos, somehow - impossibly - in the flesh.

THE FALL OF AN EMPIRE BOOK ONE --- Your eyes trailed up to the balcony, taking stock of the man who was perched there, hands resting on the railing as he peered down at the crowd that had just entered the room. Broad shoulders were only accentuated by plated armor, polished to a bronze sheen. You had seen this man before, during military processions and that sort of thing. The prison warden, and one of the caesar's previous champions. Samuel. The warden of the prison underneath the colosseum.

"You remember what I said a few months ago?" Alex asked. "About when you hit one million subscribers?" You thought for a moment, sorting through your memories. "You're going to have to be more specific." Alex smiled, sipping at her drink. "About the SMP." That jogged your memory immediately. "Wait- really?" You asked, now excited. "You'll ask if I can join?" Alex nodded, and your heart swelled up with joy. You were going to join the Dream SMP. And, oh, how your life would change because of it.

"I'll read it out for you." Anne said, handing the cigarette back to you. "Wanted; for breaking and entering and robbery. Unknown bandit seen leaping from a window of a bank in Kempton, may be walking with a limp from the fall. Suspected to be about 5'8" and stocky build. Should any leads arise please contact local authorities." --- You hadn't even seen him there, obscured in the darkness of night - and it was obvious that he hadn't been expecting anyone to come out back. He startled, stumbling away from where he had been leaning, and your heart leapt into your throat, surprised in the worst way possible. So surprised, that you threw the bag of vegetable scraps at him as a form of self defense. The bag bounced harmlessly against the man's chest and landed on the ground. Your eyes darted to it first, but then up to the man you had thrown it at - taking in his features from the light streaming out of the still-open door. He wasn't too tall, but he had the build of someone who had known a farm life before - broad shoulders and muscle made for work, not show. His clothes were practical, and he carried a pack strapped to his back. It was his face that was the most interesting though - he couldn't have been much older than you, and he looked kind, for lack of a better word. Open, almost.

❝𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒! 𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. 𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐔𝐓! 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.❞ In which you and your band enter a Battle of The Bands hoping to have some fun (and maybe win the prize money), but end up finding something more. Credit for the cover art goes to @viva_mik on Twitter! Started: 2021-11-28 Completed: ???