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.

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 sequel to my first oneshot book (you can check that out if you haven't lmao) enjoy!

"tommy. you're staring. i can practically feel your eyes burning into the back of my neck" "sorry cassie, i'll stop." ............ ............ ............ ............ In which Cassidy Lovette's life is changed forever by a single twitter notification. started: november 8th, 2020 ended: (ongoing) NOVEMBER 27th: #4 in soot

welp, I've done it. I've made an imagine book Requests always open cuz I'm not creative! Characters I'll write about: *Quackity *Wilbur *Karl Jacobs *Awesamdude *Dream *Punz *GeorgeNotFound *Sapnap *JackManifold *Eret *BadBoyHalo *Tubbo(platonic) *Tommy(platonic) *Ranboo(platonic) *Niki Nihachu(both) *Foolish Gamers

24 new emails looked back at you from the screen. You could feel the headache setting in, but you opened your email anyway, looking through the new messages. Two from your statistics professor, about a new assignment, another one from the RA in the dorm building, one from the admissions office, about your application to the study abroad program, one from your American history professor- Hold the phone. You rapidly clicked on the email from the admissions office, scanning through the paragraphs. Reviewing your application to the program... taking into account your grades and your major... looking at schools in the area... pleased to say we can accept you into the program. Accepted. Part of you had forgotten that you had applied in the first place; it had been months ago back at the end of last semester, and then you had gone home for the summer and put it behind you. But being back at school had brought it to the forefront of your mind again. This was great. You had needed some good news today. Turning up the music, you danced out of your desk chair and jumped around the room a little, excited. You were going to Mexico for a semester. You could already picture it now - warm weather, good food, and firsthand experience speaking Spanish for at least six months, maybe more. Not to mention all the adventures you could have in a foreign country. This would be something you would remember for years, and just thinking about it made your day better.

The door opened, and you were faced with a young man about your age. He filled the whole doorframe with his height, though he was kind of lanky looking. A few brown fluffy curls stuck out from underneath his beanie, and he wore glasses, looking down at you. "Oh, you are rather tall." You said, the words slipping out of you before you could stop yourself. You clamped your mouth shut before the rest of the thought could slip out as well - he was rather fit, too. He blinked quizzically. "Um, sorry?"