#♰ ─── short scenarios

[tsuukirana]

𝟎𝟒 | 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒

How do the Fatui Harbingers kiss you?

Includes: Tartaglia, La Strega (Original), Scaramouche, La Signora, and Il Dottore.

Back to 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓?

See 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍?

𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀 the Eager one.

He’s like a wandering puppy who wanted nothing more but for some love and attention. So when he kisses you, you can feel a bit of wetness on his lips. He pushes against you feverishly with excitement. You almost feel as if you can hear his dog tail wagging in happiness as he wraps his arm around you, pushing you closer to him.

He tastes like the sea and you like the way he pulls away from you to lean his forehead against yours. His eyes may not be the brightest compared to others, still, you find it ever so beautiful to see the depths of the ocean residing in them. 

His kisses always seem to last more than what is expected. When he tells you that he’ll only give you a peck on the lips, he ends up lying to you and reaching for you for a second, third, and fourth time. And each time he does it, you feel breathless. You don’t put it against him though, his eager kisses are something you simply can’t get from anyone else.

𝐋𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐀 the Fleeting one.

She doesn’t kiss you longer than needed. To her, wasting away your life on simple pleasure is something that she can’t bring herself to enjoy, not after years of constantly trying to keep up a busy lifestyle, however, you tell her that it is alright.

Her lips taste like vanilla and you like the way that she holds onto you tenderly, her slightly cold hands brushing against your cheek as if the world stilled. You notice that she is less experienced in the act of kissing, though her innocence and gentle touches make you see it as something that brings you closer to her. 

You can tell that she is afraid to kiss you with the way her lips shiver. When you crack your eyes slightly, you can see her reddened cheeks radiate with warmth. Such a thought makes you smile, so much so that when she pulls away, you’re the one reaching out to her lips once more. 

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 the Reluctant one.

When he holds you in his arms, he shyly presses his lips against yours. He is in no way experienced at kissing and you can tell when he awkwardly shifts in front of you. His cheeks are burning red and you can feel the tips of his ears growing just as warm, especially when you draw your fingers against his cheek. You find his behavior endearing. It is not often that you see the great Balladeer pull away from you with his hand covering his face, shielding your eyes away from the embarrassment.

He tastes like bittersweet chocolate and you find the act of him being so intimate so delicate that you hope to see more of it. He is like a tease, always giving you a small glimpse of a side of him that you might not see enough of, and having you chase after him. Maybe that’s how you ended up in his arms again, kissing him even deeper than before to see more of his flustered face.

It’s rare to get kisses like this from him so you want to savor it as much as possible. His arms are always so awkward when they wrap around you and no matter how many times you do it with him, he’s still a bit inexperienced, but he is learning nonetheless. 

𝐋𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐀 the Flirty one.

Kissing her is like putting on a show. You always have to be on the tips of your toes when you reach up to her and she chuckles at your attempts. Her hands are always digging into her purse for a little while, reapplying her lipstick before she pulls you close to her, kissing you deeper than anyone on this list. 

She likes to twirl your hair and shift your chin to the side so that she could get a better angle. Red lipstick stains are there when you both pull away, her fingers swiping across the bottom of your lips so that she could admire the color. 

She tastes like alcohol, something that is so bitter and strong, yet so intoxicating that you can’t help but keep kissing her. She leaves you breathless and desperate for more. You always wonder with the way she makes you arch your back and your hands eagerly gripping onto her clothes if you were to look as picture-perfect as you feel. 

𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄 the Experimental one.

He doesn’t like to kiss you just only on your lips, mainly in other places like your hand or your chin. Though on the occasion where he does, you find it deeply relaxing. He isn’t overly eager like Tartaglia, and he isn’t easy to pull away and leave like La Strega and Scaramouche. He was in his own category and you dare not to pit him against the rest.

You notice that he doesn’t have a specific taste. Sometimes he tastes sour or bitter, at other times he tastes as sweet as candy. You wonder if he is purposely eating different foods before kissing you so that you can taste something different. You would have dismissed this idea if it wasn’t for the previous incident. Last time you kissed the eccentric doctor, your tongue is burning up like it was on fire, and you find out that he had been eating something spicy earlier so that he could “spice up” your love.

Nonetheless, despite his strange kisses, you always find yourself coming back to him. And maybe someday, Il Dottore can find a way to kiss you normally instead of being upside down and asking you for a “Spiderman Kiss.”

[divine-knight-hand]

Safely Endangered

Prequel: True Liberation

Series Masterlist || Loki Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3

Summary: Five years before the events of Chapter 1, Y/N indulges in her weekly escape from the confines of life, but a few new faces in a dangerous situation serve to change everything she’s ever known.

Notes: I put a heck of a lot of time into this, for a work that has no sexy times in it. Hehehe! Also, it's very much giving a bit of old Wattpad vibes in my opinion, but I still like how it came out! I hope you do, too!!!

This piece features some German, which is yet another language I don't speak, so feel free to correct any mistakes I may have made.

Content Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence and death, discussions of death at length, shootout scenario, cussing that would make a sailor blush, and brief religious imagery (again, just a sentence, but I wanted to give a warning, anyways)

Word Count: 4,776

Dividers by @cafekitsune

I hated my life. I had a boring job in a boring town, contributing absolutely nothing to a boring society. I had no ambitions, no goals, and nothing to look forward to. I just dragged myself through each day like a mindless drone. Then, I just went to the home that I still shared with my parents, laid my head down on my rock-hard pillow, and fought for sleep on my lumpy mattress every night just to do the whole thing all over again the next day.

In short, life sucked.

However, there was one night a week where I finally got a break from all the excruciating monotony. Friday nights, I went to a small nightclub in my town to drink and dance the week’s hardships away. At first, I thought it was foolish to get excited over some nightclub, but I realized that just the mere thought of doing something exciting and fun pulled me through the week. It kept me sane.

So, I made it an event. I dressed to the nines in the tightest dress I could find, found myself the pair of high heels most likely to break my ankles, and bought the shiniest jewelry I could afford.

It was a long process to get dressed each week, but Friday nights filled me with the motivation to do it, because I knew that at The Lively Vixen, I could taste what it meant to feel alive.

────༺ ♰ ༻────

The bass emanating from the DJ’s booth seemed to rattle the very foundation of the building. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, allowing its vibrations to move through my body and fill me with life. I’m here! I made it here another week.

I opened my eyes and made my way into the neon scenery. Bodies collided on the dance floor in a large vulgar mosh pit under the strobe of vibrant lighting, and the smell of alcohol tainted the air, tempting some dancers to step away from the party for a quick drink.

I headed straight to the bar, leaning against the table as I locked eyes with one of the bartenders. She was a petite blonde about my age with bright green doe eyes and a round face that sported a light dusting of freckles over the pale skin of her cheeks and nose. She was gorgeous. Unfortunately for her, that kind of beauty never came without consequence in her field of work.

“Don’t worry about me.” She’d said on one of my first visits to The Lively Vixen. “The creepiest men give the best tips.” Then, she winked and swayed her hips as she crossed the bar to take an order from a man who’d been staring at her the whole time.

As she neared where I was standing, I cocked my head with a playful smirk. “Hey, Jill! How’ve you been?”

“Absolutely terrible.” She remarked with a smile that convinced me otherwise, “You know the party doesn’t start ‘til you get here.”

“Well, consider the party here.” I opened my arms in a dramatic gesture as Jill clapped her hands.

“You never fail to be the highlight of my work week.” She giggled. If only she knew that she was part of mine, too. “Should I put you down for your usual?”

I place a hand over my heart in another dramatic gesture. “You know me so well. I would love that.”

“Alright! I’ll have your drink to you in just a moment.” Jill trotted to the back of the bar to prep it as the DJ switched songs across the room.

I perched myself on the stool right next to me and turned to survey the crowd as the mass of bodies jumped and clashed to Rihanna’s Please Don’t Stop the Music.

A dark shadow grabbed my attention as it flashed in the corner of my eye. I turned to look as four unfamiliar figures walked in the door.

A woman with soft features and hair that cascaded over her shoulders in honey brown waves had an arm locked in that of a tall muscular blond man with hair that stopped just past his shoulders and a beard that matched in hue.

Next came a slender woman about as tall as the blond, with raven hair that fell just above her mid-back. Her angular face wore an expression as dark as her eye makeup. I shuddered at the sight of her, a chill crawling up my spine.

The last person to walk in was a man about the same height, but he looked like he could be the raven-haired woman’s male counterpart. His own dark locks fell in a similar fashion to the blond’s, but they were slicked back in a more clean style and pulled away from his solemn expression. There was something intimidating about him… but alluring, as well.

Despite being in a nightclub, the group seemed to be dressed for a business negotiation. I assumed they must have been rich, but wondered what they could possibly be doing in a small town like mine. Every week I went to The Lively Vixen, I could recognize almost every face on the dance floor. I knew for a fact I never saw this group before. Why would they want to come here of all places?

As the four entered the club, walking in the direction of the VIP booths on the other side, the raven haired-man was the only one to glance in my direction as they passed me. Time itself seemed to slow down as we locked eyes.

I wanna take you away Let's escape into the music

Long after he looked away, I watched the group cross the club. I had to force my eyes away from them as one of the bouncers lifted a velvet rope and let them into one of the booths. 

The sound of Jill shouting my name over the music made me jump. “Your drink.” She motioned to the glass she’d just set on the counter in front of me.

“Thank you!” I grabbed the glass and began to sip on it as Jill glanced at the VIP booths.

“Great,” She remarked, “another bunch of rich weirdos.”

“They’re not the only ones?” I asked as I risked another glance at the booth.

“Nope!” Jill patted the countertop. Any sound her hand made against the wood was muted by the blaring music. “Four guys walked in with these boujee hoes practically kissing the ground they walked on just before you got here. Those women are just trying to get that bank, if you ask me. They’ll probably suck their guys off for a few grand later.”

“Jill!” I snorted at her bluntness.

“What? It’s gotta be true!” She waved her hand in a playfully dismissive gesture. “But, if I were them, I’d totally do the same. The whole bartender gig doesn’t pay much on bad tip days.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’d skip the part that involves coming out to a club in the middle of nowhere.” I added as I took a sip of my drink.

“I’m with you.” Jill agreed. “Now, you go enjoy your night. Don’t let me keep you stuck here. Just come back once you get thirsty, okay?”

“Of course! And I’ll ask for you specifically.” I slid off of my stool and smiled, lifting my drink off the counter. “Take care!”

“I’m trying.” Jill playfully waved and left to go take more orders.

Normally, I’d head straight to the dance floor and shamelessly flirt with a new man or woman of my choosing before dirty dancing with them and letting them buy me a new drink, but tonight was different.

I couldn’t get the image of the four people in that VIP section out of my head. Specifically, I couldn’t stop thinking of that raven-haired man. I was frozen, just a few paces from the bar. Why are they here? What do all these rich people want?

I tried to refocus on the loud thrumming music and let it drown out my thoughts as I willed my feet to shuffle towards the dance floor.

Baby, are you ready 'cause it's gettin' cold Don't you feel the passion ready to explode?

Bang! Bang! Bang! I jumped as the jarring sound drowned out Rihanna’s voice. I hadn’t even made it to the edge of the dance floor when it sounded.

The mass of bodies in front of me froze as screams rang out across the room. My blood ran cold. This can’t be happening…

Bang! Bangbangbang! Bangbang! When the gunfire increased in frequency, the dance floor suddenly became a mob as everyone made a mad dash to the door.

I turned to run with them, but tripped over my own high heel and fell to my knees. My drink crashed onto the floor, the glass shattering.

The mob was coming too fast, and there was already a crowd forming at the door, so I crawled behind the bar as quickly as possible to avoid getting trampled and hide from whoever was firing their guns.

“Shitshitshitshitshit!” I hissed as I moved across the floor.

Once I got behind the bar, I quickly abandoned my heels in preparation for a quick escape. I peeked my head out to check the door, but a bullet narrowly missing my face startled me into reeling backwards and colliding with a body that was hunched behind the bar with me.

I gasped as I turned around to see the raven-haired man who seemed equally shocked. “What the hell are you still doing here?” He hissed.

“Trying not to get killed.” I scowled. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He raised his eyebrows at my response. “I would imagine my own reasoning was obvious. Unless you were watching me merely for my good looks.”

I instantly felt my cheeks burn as I muttered. “Well, you don’t have to be a douche about it.”

We jumped as the bullets grew closer to where we were crouched. The man quickly took to his feet and fired his own gun at the origin of the sounds before crouching back down to avoid another spray of bullets.

My eyes widened at the sight of his weapon. “You’re a part of this?”

“No, I’m merely a participating onlooker.” His voice oozed with a sarcasm that almost made me want to slap him across his gorgeous face.

Would it hurt if I slapped someone with sharp cheekbones? I shook the thought out of my head. Get it together! You’re in a life or death situation right now!

“We can’t stay here.” Before I could process what he was saying to me, he grabbed my arm and hoisted me to my feet before dragging me into the kitchen door by the bar. “Trust me if you value your life.”

“I don’t seem to have much of a choice in the matter-” I stumbled, making my attempt at sarcasm more pathetic than anything else.

The man’s grip on my arm tightened to the point where I was sure my skin would bruise. “Do find your footing, would you?”

I glared daggers at him before he dragged me around the kitchen island, dodging the bartenders who were ducking for cover. I scanned the room for Jill, but I couldn’t find her. Oh, god! I hope she’s okay…

Just then, a man wearing a black suit with red accents ran in with a pistol aimed in our direction. The raven-haired man simply pulled me behind him and fired his own gun. I looked over his shoulder just in time to see the man fall dead with a bullet wound in his head. A wave of nausea crashed into me as blood slowly oozed out of the wound, forming a puddle underneath his body.

The bartenders on the floor let out a unanimous blood-curdling scream at the sight of the carnage as the raven-haired man dragged me out of the kitchen and back into the club. Despite the DJ being gone, and the entire club being empty, the whole venue was still thrumming with loud music.

“Can you tell me what the hell is going on?!” I shouted at the raven-haired man before he shot and killed another man in a red and black suit.

He just raised his free hand to his ear and muttered something barely intelligible under the music. “H…any…ft?” After a heartbeat of silence he growled “Damnit!” before dragging me to crouch behind the DJ booth, bullets whizzing by us all the way.

“If you’re not gonna tell me what’s going on, can you at least tell me who you are?” I shouted over the music.

He cocked his gun, having just reloaded it, and winked. “I’m your savior, of course.”

I scowled. “Right… AH-”

I was dragged onto my feet by a large hand that gripped my hair. All I saw was a long black coat with a little flash of fur as a new mysterious figure held me in a chokehold. The raven-haired man took to his feet and aimed his gun at the both of us, clearly struggling to get a clear shot at the man behind me. The DJ booth finally stopped playing music–possibly due to reaching the end of its predetermined playlist–so I could hear their voices clearly.

“Let my men go or I kill her.” The figure’s voice sounded right by my ear with small traces of a German accent before I felt something cold and metal placed against my temple. I recognized it as the barrel of a gun before I even heard him cock it. My blood ran cold. Is this how I’m going to die?

The raven-haired man furrowed his brow as his gun was still trained on us. “Leave her out of this, Zemo. She’s merely a civilian. She doesn’t associate with us.”

“But you Sons of Odin love keeping people who aren’t in our business safe, don’t you?” Zemo seemed to tighten his grip on me. It was a wonder I could still breathe, but it did take some effort.

“Some of us care not for that little code.” The raven-haired man scowled.

What the fuck?! I wanted to scream. Are you trying to save me or not?

I reached my hands up to try to pry his arm from my neck, but it was futile. I had no experience in fighting like this. I felt that Zemo was inherently stronger than me.

“Let… me… go… asshole…” I gasped, desperate for a way out.

“Oooh, this one’s a bit… how do Americans say… spunky.” Zemo chuckled, amused by my struggle.

“Fuck you!” I spat before bringing my foot up behind me as sharply as possible.

“Umph!” Zemo doubled over as the back of my foot connected with his crotch.

I grabbed the hand that held his gun and pulled it to my mouth to bite it. Zemo was wearing gloves, so I had to bite down considerably hard before he felt the pain and dropped the weapon. I wrenched myself free from his grip before lunging at the gun on the floor. I quickly spun back around, aiming it at Zemo with shaking hands.

“Easy, prinzessin.” Zemo looked up at me with shock, his brown hair a little messy on top of his head. His voice, however, was still smooth and condescending, almost as if he was convincing me to sleep with him rather than convincing me not to shoot him. “It wasn’t personal. My fight is with the man behind you.”

“Shut up!” My voice wavered as my finger curled around the trigger. I couldn’t imagine actually killing Zemo. I didn’t even know who he was. Besides, It wasn’t like I’d taken a life before. I imagined I would break down shortly after firing at him, before spending the rest of my life in therapy. He did just threaten to kill me, though. Maybe it would have been well deserved.

“Stop.” The raven-haired man wrapped one arm around my shoulders, moving my aim down to the floor with the other. “Killing this man would not be a very good idea. Let me handle this.”

“Yes, prinzessin.” Zemo looked back at me smugly. “Leave this to the men, eh?”

My blood boiled. What the fuck did he just say to me? I couldn’t believe the audacity of this man. First, he tried to kill me, then he has the balls to make that sexist remark after literally being held at gunpoint? Oh, no. I was not going to let that fly.

Bam! Before thinking my actions through, I sent a bullet straight into his shin.

“AH!” Zemo fell over, clutching the bullet wound. “Sohn einer Hündin! Ah- Verdammt! Oh, Sheisse!” His face scrunched with pain as his brow began to mist with sweat.

Once I was frozen with the realization that I’d just shot someone, the raven-haired man quickly snatched Zemo’s gun from my hands, clearly amused by his suffering.

“I believe we should get going.” He grabbed my arm again and guided me towards the back exit.

“I won’t forget this, Odinson!” Zemo spat as we left.

Once we stepped outside, the chill of the night air made me shiver. There were no more neon lights. Just the stars sprinkled around the full moon in the night sky.

The raven-haired man noticed I was cold and removed his suit jacket, revealing the tight dress shirt underneath that left nothing of his upper body to the imagination. He threw it over my shoulders. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” I breathed.

Suddenly, the darkness was filled with flashing blue and red lights as sirens broke the silence. He grabbed my arm and led me into the closest tree line. “We can’t stay here. Let’s go now.” He hissed.

────༺ ♰ ༻────

Finally safe from the heat of the cops, we walked along the sidewalk, the raven-haired man insisting on taking me home. The shock of me firing a gun for the first time eased, but hadn’t faded.

“Do you think he’ll recover from that?” I shuddered.

“Zemo? Yes, he’ll be fine.” The man waved his hand dismissively. “Unfortunately.”

I watched as my dirtied bare feet traversed the cold sidewalk. “I have so many questions.”

The man stopped beside me and softly coaxed my head up to face him. “Well, I do have some time before I must return to my associates. So, ask away. I’ll answer whatever I can for you.”

I took a deep breath and started. “Who are you?”

“Well, I am-” He started before I cut him off.

“And don’t say you’re my ‘savior’.” I glared at him. “What is your name?”

He chuckled, thoughtfully rubbing his chin before responding. “I’m Loki. Loki Odinson.”

“Loki…” I softly tested his name on my tongue. It was a beautiful name, unlike anything I’d heard before. “Okay… Loki… What just happened?”

“That, my dear, is a long story.” He started, extending his arm to me. “Allow me to explain.” I took his arm in mine and we began walking along the sidewalk again. “My father, Odin, rules over one of the grandest mafia schemes in your realm.”

“My… realm?” I was nothing short of confused.

“Midgard.” He explained, “The realm of the human race.”

“You speak as if you’re not human.” I snorted.

“That would be because I’m not.” He stated as if he was speaking of the weather and not confirming the existence of otherworldly beings.

Normally, I’d have thought this guy was a loon, but that night was so eventful, I was too tired to be skeptical. “So, what are you?”

“I am a god.” Where I once was too tired to be skeptical, I had the energy to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re a god?” I wiped tears from my eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, I am.” With a wave of his free hand, he conjured a small firework show and held it out to me. “I am the god of mischief, and I specialize in illusions.”

My jaw went slack and my feet stopped working. “W- wow… That’s incredible.”

Loki closed his hand and gave my arm a light tug. “Do keep walking. I’d prefer to get you home sooner rather than later.”

We kept walking and I kept the questions flowing. “If you know magic, then why didn’t you just kill all those guys with your powers?”

“That would have been simpler, wouldn’t it?” He smirked. “Unfortunately, mankind has yet to accept the existence of beings of my caliber. Me using my powers… well, it would have caused a scene, to say the least. We can’t work if we’re attracting too much attention.”

“Understood.” My brain was creating questions faster than I could ask them. “So, you’re a god and you’re in the mafia… Those people you came into the club with, are they also part of the mafia?”

“Yes. Those are my sister, brother, and brother’s lover, to be exact.” I shuddered when I remembered the stoic raven-haired woman. That was his sister.

“And where does that leave Zemo?”

“He’s part of our rival organization, HYDRA.”

“HYDRA…” I saw my house slowly coming into view. “So, the shootout started because you two are enemies? Did they step onto your territory, or steal from you? …Or something like that?”

“Now, you’re overthinking it.” Loki softly chuckled. “Our conflict tonight began simply because they fired first.” I remembered how quickly everyone on the dance floor froze after the initial blast. Why would the members of HYDRA just start shooting like that?

“Mmhmm…” I took a moment to think over everything that he was telling me. “One more question: Why are you telling me all of this? Aren’t mafia systems usually secret?” We made it to the front steps of my house and sat beside each other on the bottom step.

“Well, first of all, that was two questions.” I sent an annoyed glance at him before he continued. “Second, I tell you this because I have a proposal for you.”

I gulped. “Is it one where I get to stay alive?”

Loki laughed aloud in a warm sound. “Of course! I didn’t save you to kill you. Counterproductivity is not in my nature. No, rather, I’m impressed by you.”

“You’re impressed by me?” I raised my eyebrows. “Trust me, I’m not that impressive.”

“Or so you were led to believe.” I raised my eyebrows at him, prompting him to continue. “The workings of your realm can be oh so tiresome, wearing down its strongest warriors into mindless sheep who are fooled by a false sense of independence. But, tonight… Tonight, I caught a glimpse of the real you, unburdened by this society. You fought a man who wronged you, and you nearly killed him. That was impressive.”

I cringed. “I think that’s also technically illegal.”

“Forget the legalities!” Loki rested a hand on my shoulder. “You have potential. Besides, what’s left for you here?” I thought about that. What was left for me here? I had a boring job in a boring town. I had no ambitions, no goals, and nothing to look forward to. I just dragged myself through each day like a mindless drone. Like a mindless sheep. I was in an endless cycle of uselessness.

When I didn’t answer immediately, Loki continued, “I’ll tell you what waits for you if you come with me.” He stood from the step and turned to face me. “You can have an escape from the illusion of choice, in favor of a life of true liberation. Know what independence truly looks like. Live a life where you’re not crushed under the fists of those who decide your worth.”

The sun began to rise behind him, the sky creating a hazy outline around his tall figure. I felt like a disciple who looked up to her god with admiration and awe. I wondered for a moment whether he’d bless me or cast his judgment on me. All I knew was that I trusted him with my life once, and now I felt I could do it again, and again, and again for as long as we both lived. I would do whatever he wanted me to. I trusted him fully and completely.

“Loki…” I began as a black limo pulled up on the street behind him. “What are you asking of me?”

The back window of the limo wound down to reveal the blond man from earlier. “Brother!” He shouted. “Make haste! Father waits for us.”

Loki didn’t even pay attention to the shouting blond. He just reached his hand out for me. “Join me. Shed the weight of your mundane life and join me. Feel the relief of true liberation. Join me and the Sons of Odin. Let me take you away.”

A heavy silence fell between us. My answer here would be my defining moment. Was I willing to cast everything I ever knew aside and start over with this man I just met? Then again, what did I have to cast aside in the first place?

I slid my hand into his and slowly rose to my feet, breathlessly answering, “Take me away, Loki.”

────༺ ♰ ༻────

Of course, I didn’t immediately leave with Loki at that moment. My parents were expecting me home. I explained to him that I needed to at least give them some excuse as to why I’d be suddenly moving out of the house. I gave him back his suit jacket and warmly smiled, thanking him for the opportunity before rushing into the house and packing my things. I didn’t have a lot to my name, so I was able to get by with two large suitcases.

When my parents inevitably confronted me, I’d already had my story straight. While I was out, a traveling modeling agent found me and offered me a full-time job in New York. They were extremely happy for me, we shared hugs, and they told me to make sure to reach out every so often.

That night, Loki returned to pick me up and take me to my new life. We left for New York City together and he helped me settle into my new life. He had Natasha, a former spy from Russia who turned to the Sons of Odin for a better life, teach me how to fight. He introduced me to his sister, Hela, the boss of the Death District of the Sons of Odin, and his brother, Thor, the boss of the Thunder District.

He even showed me his large penthouse. As it would turn out, he set aside a room for me down the hall from his. He apologized for the arrangement, saying it was temporary until he could find me my own space to live. I didn’t care. I was overjoyed that I’d be able to live with the man who came to The Lively Vixen and saved me.

I couldn’t tell whether Loki saved me from my life or myself that night. All I knew was that he’d breathed life into my walking corpse. He’d spared me from the mundane and I would be eternally grateful. He was my hero. My savior. My god of mischief.

It was six months into my training that I discovered my feelings for him didn’t stop at awe and admiration. I had fallen in love with him, and those feelings only grew each day I spent with him. It wasn’t until my ninth month with the Sons of Odin that I confessed my feelings to him, and surprisingly, he reciprocated, and even confessed that he was never looking for other living arrangements for me. So, I moved up the hall and we spent our first night together.

────༺ ♰ ༻────

“You look absolutely ravishing, my darling.” Loki’s eyes sparkled as we laid in bed together, facing each other.

“And you are such a charmer, my god.” I purred.

A growl rumbled from the back of his throat. “Oh, how I love when you call me that. It sets my very soul aflame.”

“Then I’ll be sure to use every breath I have left in my lungs to call you all the things you like.” I reached out to cup his cheek in my hand. “As long as you promise to call me yours.”

Loki and I leaned closer to each other until we were just a breath apart. “I promise.” He breathed before wrapping me in his strong arms and pulling me into a deep kiss. I let myself melt into him and we stayed in each other’s embrace until we drifted off to sleep.

Prinzessin - Princess

Sohn einer Hündin! - Son of a bitch!

Verdammt! - Dammit!

Sheisse! - Shit!

[tsuukirana]

𝟎𝟐 | 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐒

What kind of professors would they be, and would you survive their classes?

Includes: Scaramouche, Tartaglia, La Signora, and Il Dottore.

Back to 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓?

See 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍?

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 the Strict Professor.

Doesn’t get paid enough for what he is doing, but he’ll make light of it anyway. His most common line to those struggling in his classes by fooling around is: “even if you fail my class, I’ll get paid regardless” so he has no problem leaving them behind.

Does not accept late work whatsoever. If you were to turn in an assignment even a minute late, he would mark your assignment as failed or missing, and you’d have to talk to him directly after class if you were ever to want to appeal. 

He’s the one who grades all of your assignments in a relatively short time, but his feedback might be short to none. If you were excelling in his class, he wouldn’t compliment you. If your grades begin to slip, he’ll notify you. He expects that you know how he feels about your work even if he doesn’t say anything.

If you were to go during his office hours (despite many other students telling you not to, and that he was a rude person), you’d be shocked to hear him address you by your name. Unknown to many of his students, he likes to remember the students who actively reach out to him. Please, talk to him, he’s lonely and would like it if some of his students could talk, not that he’d ever admit that!

𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀 the Lenient Professor.

It’s no surprise that this man is kind-hearted and easy with his students. He already knows that school can be hard and that you have other classes besides his, so he makes his lessons easy to digest and understand.

He isn’t very fast with grading, maybe at a medium to slow pace depending on what day it is (when it’s a Holiday, you can bet that's when he’ll grade the slowest). When you contact him during his office hours, he’d be very chatty and end up rambling about his family or his other coworkers (who somehow detests him when he eats in the shared office space). 

His method of teaching usually focuses on doing something physical or experimental. He wants you to go outside and do things! Have some fun and adventure! He thinks being in a stuffy classroom might rot your brain and that the best way to learn is to use what you’re taught in the real world. 

If you were to turn in late work, he’ll be fine with it as long as you give him a reason. He’s a very big family guy so if you were to say that you had a family emergency or event to go to, he will 100% let you go without any reparations. Family is important and he understands that with college, you might not be able to see or talk to them as much, so getting those hours in is very important!

𝐋𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐀 the Boring Professor.

She’s not interested in teaching, not as much as her other coworkers but she goes through with it anyway. She detests people who are too loud in her class and would oftentimes scold them openly.

She is usually on top of her grading and will give you proper or in-depth feedback about what you need to do better (only if you ask her nicely and attended enough office hours for her to even remember your face). You can tell that she’s tired of grading when it becomes slow as a turtle and she brings 2 cups of coffee with her to her class. She usually has morning classes to teach and this leads to her having a very monotone or boring voice when instructing the class.

Sticks to lectures rather than hands-on projects. She refuses to have any of her students go on to do group projects because it’s always a hassle for her to find students a partner, and it’s stressful to try to control large groups of friends who sit next to each other and chatter nonstop. She understands that group projects aren’t for everyone, and she too hated them as a student, so she gives her students the luxury of not having group projects.

𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄 the Strange/Abnormal Professor.

Archons, did he just send back your assignment at 4:35 AM? Does this man even bother to sleep or keep a relatively healthy schedule? Also, are those bits of peanuts on your assignment? What has this man been eating while grading your papers?!

He’s the kind of professor who would send the class goofy or half-written messages like: “Hello class, I am afraid” or “I spilled coffee and peanuts over your assignments, if you have an allergic reaction please bring an Epipen to class” or even the classic “If I don’t get to sleep, you guys don’t either.”

He usually dresses quite formally except for a few colorful dress shirts. During exams he likes to wear pajama pants underneath his dress shirt and lab coat, there is no way in hell you’ll be expecting to see him wear anything less or more because he’s exhausted and can’t bother. 

[tsuukirana]

𝟎𝟑 | 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 [𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐔]

You are the manager of the Fatui Rock Band “DELUSION”, what is it like to work alongside them?

Includes: Scaramouche, Tartaglia, La Strega (Original), La Signora, and Il Dottore.

Back to 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓?

See 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍?

𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀 the Lead Vocalist & Rhythm Guitarist.

“Hey, Comrade! Great to see you here, do you think my hair looks good?”

Extremely loud and passionate about singing, he’s the one constantly making your department kneel over with exhaustion with how often he is dragging his band to different bars to perform, or to local fast food places to dine. Does he even understand how stressful he makes you feel? You can’t just go to any fast food place without any security guards! Is what you tell him, but he shrugs it off and gives you a french fry.

He loves the media attention and can always be seen posing with some fangirls wearing the band’s t-shirt. You have to admit, with every photo and selfie he takes, he’s quite experienced in getting all of his good sides. You are glad that he is popular with fans (which is great considering how Scaramouche always scares off some potential customers) though, on the occasion, it can stir up some trouble considering how often he gets his nose into some scandals regarding relationships. Hold on, is that him flirting with Lumine from TRAVELERS?

He also loves to talk to you about his family and how he wants to make them proud. It sounds cheesy, yet when he says that he wants his siblings to see him see on stage, he wants to make sure that their eyes light up like stars. It’s not every day that your older brother is part of a popular rock band and he wants to give the best life he could to his family. Unlike a few others who came from some sort of lucrative background, he is humble and down to Earth, and maybe that's why so many girls like him.

His favorite thing to do with the band is to write songs with La Strega (they grew up in the same place so it was clear that he and she always had some kind of history) and quarrel with Scaramouche. Cruel or not, something about riddling up the shorter boy always brought him joy. Other than that, he is fairly neutral with La Signora and more friendly with Il Dottore, he finds them to just be his coworkers that whom he slowly became closer. A few snarky comments are exchanged between all of them.

His signature sign is a narwhal.

𝐋𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐀 the Second Vocalist & Bass Guitarist.

“Manager. . . Do you think. . . this song will be popular?”

When you were first introduced to her, you were shocked to find out that she was the second vocalist. She talked so quietly that it was impossible to hear her without a microphone to her lips. You had to whisper to your management team to confirm that she was part of a rock band and not a solo singer. However, when you saw her perform her solo, hearing her crying out her emotions on the stage in a feverish state that left her other guitarists scrambling to keep up with the pace, you knew that underneath her soft-spoken personality held a fire that no winter could freeze. 

You learn that she came from a small town that was very religious and loving. When she goes out with Scaramouche and Tartaglia, it is always her sandwiched between the two, desperately trying to break up their fights. You find it comical when you see her offer some kind of candy to Scaramouche when he is feeling peeved by Tartaglia, and how you would immediately turn to the russet-haired man and explain Scaramouche’s not-so-hidden feelings.

To you, she was like a sister, always looking out for the team and wanting the best for them. She was always the calm one, keeping order in a place so chaotic that you had to duck if you wanted to avoid getting hit in the head with an object. 

Occasionally, she would help you with your chores, especially if Scaramouche were to add on to them. She says that when she started as a part-time performer at a small bar, she always had to do some sort of chore to get further in her career. You wonder if she ever had any siblings in her life, considering how well she takes care of others, you shake your head, not wanting to press her. 

Her signature sign is a thorn-covered rose.

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 the Lead Guitarist.

“Are you deaf? I asked for two sugar and one cream for my coffee!” 

God he is so bratty, is what you first thought when he demanded that you order him drinks from a local cafe that he likes. When you order him the correct coffee he would just scoff at you, but if you were to give him the wrong one, expect a scalding hot tongue to spit insults at you. He was infinitely the rudest of the bunch and this was what made so many managers quit in the first place. Whether it was your competitiveness or stubbornness, you remained as the band’s manager for as long as possible, which made you more. . . likable to him? He found that when he knew you would be a permanent asset to his band, it made him less of an ass to you and more aware that you were a person (that still doesn’t stop him from acting like a total brat at times though).

You find yourself hypnotically staring at his fingers when he plays the guitar, his tongue is always sticking out a bit with the light shining so perfectly on his piercing, his hands drawing over the fretboard so easily that made you a bit envious when he says he’s a child prodigy. 

He’s extremely hostile to his fans behind the scenes, oftentimes berating them when he enters the company building. However, when he is out and about with the rest of the group, he has to play the innocent bad-boy type that always makes the girls swoon over him. He hates that image of him yet he can’t do much to change it since it brings so much popularity to DELUSION. You call him soft for this and he always replies with some kind of snappy insult.

Doesn’t get along with anyone from the band (aside from La Strega, since she was the one who introduced him to the company and gave him a chance to perform). He likes to spit insults to Tartaglia about his dog-like nature, and he hates the overbearing smell of La Signora’s perfume and Il Dottore’s flirting personality. Though, on the occasion, you notice him loosening up a bit when the whole band drinks alcohol together or does some kind of fun activity like going to an arcade.

His signature sign is a puppet holding a heart. 

𝐋𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐀 the Keyboardist.

“My my. . . Your clothes are a mess, let me help you fix them before you go out there looking like a fool.”

She’s extremely well dressed, a little too much considering what kind of band she belongs to. While everyone else wears something a bit more casual or semi-formal, she is the only one dressed head to toe in formal attire (dress and all!), in a way, it keeps her shining even when she plays the keyboard from behind the group, her smile radiating its light. She says to you that appearances matter a lot and to her, looking this good is just something that keeps her fulfilled and happy.

When you ask her about why she ended up being in the band DELUSION, she explains to you that although she had always practiced with a traditional grand piano, she wanted to have a more modern take that could keep her from aging too poorly with fans. She wasn’t all too fond of the sappy love songs that people expected her to play, so in a way, being in a rock band gives her the freedom to be herself and explore. 

Compared to many of her peers, she is the best at talking with fans, even to the level of Tartaglia. She isn’t needlessly rude or entirely hollow with them, she likes to interact with them with as much enthusiasm she could muster (after a long day of singing and practicing, she needs a break too). She goes as far as wearing some of the headbands that they’ve made for her and in return, she’d give them a flower to put in their hair. You learn that she does appreciate her fans and that while she may come off as a bit harsh, she is just socially awkward at times. You call her out on her adorable personality trait which she would huff and wave you off. 

She tells you that she always wanted to have her late lover see one of her shows, even if she’s not the star, she wants to at least see him in the crowd, and that thought makes your heart melt at the sentiment. Even an icy woman like La Signora can house such warmth. 

Her signature sign is a phoenix.

𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄 the Drummer.

“Your hands look sore today, have you been overworking yourself? I know a few pressure points that can help loosen you up though.”

You honestly didn’t expect him to be the drummer. You originally thought Tartaglia was the original drummer but it turns out that Il Dottore had always practiced drums when he was a kid. He tells you a short story about how he was during his high school years, and how he used drumming as a form of stress relief. 

You notice that he’s often the one cracking up jokes alongside Tartaglia, mostly at Scaramouche’s expense. The two of them share this mutual feeling of wanting to poke fun at the man and that is what keeps them so close together. You might even say at times they look like they are attached by the hip to each other. You think it’s a bit cute when he always orders the same thing at restaurants, and when you ask him why he’d always reply with “I order the best thing!”

Sometimes he’d express to you the amount of stress he feels being the drummer. Keeping up with Tartaglia’s excitement and La Strega’s passionate singing can always take a toll on him so he always asks you for a bottle of water after the show ends. He’s the one trying to keep the group on track by making sure he keeps up with the rest of them (especially when either Vocalist goes wild on stage). You ask him why he puts so much effort into it though he always waves you off, saying that it’s nothing big, aside from the fact that drumming had always made him feel so much more alive. He can tell you all about his biology classes or things he learned in anatomy, but nothing beats being able to pour all of your energy into drumming to let out your frustrations.

Mildly popular with the fans, you can say that the popularity poll goes from Tartaglia, La Signora, La Strega, him, and Scaramouche. Since he’s always in the back performing, he understands that fans can’t always see him so clearly. And though you argue that he has a ton of fans he only smiles at you and says, “The only fan I need is you Manager!”

His signature sign is a syringe.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘:

You love them because you know through thick and skin, you will always be there supporting all of their careers and you want nothing more than to see them all succeed. And in a way, they wish the same for you as well. They leave small gifts for you, whether it be Scaramouche’s chocolate, Tartaglia’s narwhal plushes, La Signora’s luxurious necklaces, Il Dottore’s expensive alcohol, and La Strega’s flowers, you take all of them humbly with a smile.

[tsuukirana]

𝟎𝟓 | 𝟎% 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 [𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐔!]

The Vigilant Yaksha, Xiao had always lived in the heat of the moment. When it came to fast cars and charming women, they were all commodities that accompanied the life of a professional street racer. However, in Tokyo’s underground racing scenes, he’s a fish out of water.

Back to 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓?

See 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍?

Brushing through his dark and teal locks, he leans back into his car seat, lazily driving through thick crowds of people in the large, concrete parking lot. Men and women gathered amongst the flashier, vibrant cars that roared their engines. Cigarettes and cameras were lit upon their hands, feverish smiles being exchanged from one partner to the next. The Yaksha only pulls back his hair for a fleeting moment as he peers out his tinted windows. In the city of Tokyo, he describes it to be never sleeping. The bustling sounds of cars and flickering street lights will always be awake even when the night culls the weak. 

Meeting you was a mistake, he thought. If he had to choose between meeting the devil or having a drink with you, he’d be sure that you were the same. Taking a small breath, he could remember the first time he met you. It was at this same parking lot, same crowds and all, same scent and sound. 

What luck did he have to be standing in front of you right now? With your lips curved into a cocky smirk, you lean against the hood of your car. He could see the way your (s/c) skin shined underneath the bright lights, your presence is strong enough to lure in groups of people who turn to circle you and him. Whistles erupt from your friends as you give him a teasing wave and an air kiss. Was it wrong for him to challenge you like this? Or was it just him wishing to see more of you?

“You know baby, racing around Tokyo isn’t the same as it in the States,” You say, crossing your legs over the other, your eyes meeting with his golden gaze, “You not only need speed but technique to please someone. Are you sure you have either of them?” Though he likes to complain about the pitch of your voice and the sound of your words slurring, he can’t help but feel his hands grow slightly clammy as his tongue dries. It's these kinds of thoughts that distract him during races, these invasive ideas of being around you or even being next to you in bed, drive him up a wall that he can’t climb down. It was you that made him grip his steering wheel as tightly as he could.

“Of course I do,” He snaps back, “I came here looking for a good race, I should be asking if you can handle something as easy and simple as that. Unless you’re one to finish early?” 

You cracked a smile, jumping off of your car to walk forward. The tips of your nose met with him, your piercing (e/c) orbs sending shivers down his spine. From this distance, he could smell the perfume radiating off of your body, a scent that continues to tease and taunt him every time you appear in his visions. He could feel warmth beam from your presence, the heat getting to him as he stepped back nervously.

“Let’s ride then, boy.”

Though this is a short chapter, it was a more simplified and refined version of the old draft, which I’ll still publish as it doesn’t follow the bullet point format as my other scenarios.

𝟎𝟓 | 𝟎% 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 [𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐓]

Brushing his dark and teal locks, he leans back in his car, lazily driving through thick crowds within the large concrete parking lot. Men and women gathered amongst the more flashy, vibrant cars. In their hands were nothing more but a couple of packs of cigarettes and their phones, the bright lights of their cameras flashing throughout every corner. The Yaksha pulls back his hair as he peers out his tinted windows. Though it may be his first time in the city of Tokyo, he had the firm belief that racing here wasn’t going to be all too different as it was in the states.

Oh, how wrong can he be? Parking into an empty slot and slamming the doors behind him, he stands alongside his long-term companion. His eyes scope out many of the other racers and their cars, noticing the distinct wheels and styles of each one. For a place known for street racing, there weren’t a lot of cars that caught his eye.

He turns his head to his much taller friend, watching as his long black and gold hair flow alongside his broad chest, his arms crossed over each other with an amused smile. While Zhongli wasn’t always too fond of the morals and ethics of street racing, he couldn’t pass up the offer to see a few of his friends compete with each other. It was great entertainment, he would say. Childe was always good at hosting parties, and this was no different. Besides, the man of the hour was here with what he could only describe as. . . He looks down at the Yaksha, perfect competition. Letting out a small chuckle underneath his breath, he thought to himself. It would be boring if he didn’t introduce them to each other. Patting the young man’s back, he edges him to walk alongside him as he passes by groups of people. Each of them giggled and gawked at the two of them, fingers pointed with eyes wide.

Perhaps it was his silent, frustrated expression that left the rest of the parking lot speaking his name, or it could have been the way his eyes looked as hungry as a starving wolf. Whatever it was, it was clear within his stares that he wanted to race someone. It didn’t matter who it was, if they were some hot-shot up in some fancy street corner, or some home-taught newbie, he wouldn’t mind getting a taste of Tokyo’s racing culture.

“Zhongli! What a pleasure seeing you here!” A russet-haired man weaves through the crowd with ease, only bumping into a few shoulders before making his way in front of Zhongli. Though he was much shorter than him by a foot or so, he can see the way his dark, blue eyes peer down at him with a mocking expression. Though it irks him, his gaze only lingers for a few seconds before returning to the attention of Zhongli. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, how has business been? I would only hope that it’s been flourishing since the last time I visited! I see that you brought a new friend here.”

The man in question lets out a hearty laugh to amuse himself. “It has been. I only came because I wanted to introduce you to one of my old companions. He’s not from here so I wanted to show him around the city. You see, he used to race back in the States so he might not be too familiar with races here in Tokyo, but I’m sure he’ll warm up quickly.”

The Yaksha only stood there quietly, though his ears were perked up at the mention of a certain racer being here, he wasn’t all too focused on the overall conversation. On his mind was only the thought of being able to participate in what Zhongli described to be drift racing. Tokyo was one of the few major places in which drifting became one of its staples, and to someone like him, who had always driven muscle cars, the thought of focusing on the handling of his car gave him uneasy, unfamiliar shivers.

[tsuukirana]

𝟎𝟏 | 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐓 [𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔]

What kind of writers would Genshin Impact characters be?

Includes: Scaramouche, Tartaglia, La Signora, Il Dottore, Diluc, Kaeya, Venti, and Zhongli.

Back to 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓?

See 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍?

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 the Playwright.

A natural-born talent raised on the island of Inazuma, oftentimes seen writing on scrolls instead of regular parchment paper.

His most popular genre is mainly tragedies which end with the main character or their significant other inevitably perishing due to hubris or by other means. 

He likes to direct his plays for himself so he’s not only a playwright but a director in his free time. It’s said by many actors that he is extremely strict and likes to push them to the very brink through method-acting, something that others might shun him for but he instead ignores. The popularity of his plays is the only thing that matters to him.

Although this fact will never make it big in the news, he likes to enjoy reading other people’s writings to gain inspiration. His most sought-after collections usually include romance novels, and while he may tell you that they are mainly for research purposes to make his actors perform realistic dialogue, it is actually because he enjoys them.

Romance novels are his guilty pleasure and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill off all of his characters in his next play if word got out that he, a famous playwright, appreciates something as nonchalant and “gushy” as teen romance.

𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀 the Screenwriter.

He isn’t the best Screenwriter out there, but he’d be damned if he would let someone else upstage him by acting on his works.

He’s one of the more unique writers who like to engage in his works, whether it be working behind the stage or playing the actor, he loves to “get in on the action.”

Perhaps that is the reason why many of his television shows are dramatic and big, oftentimes costing so much money that it makes you wonder if he can afford such a production. But because of this flamboyant attitude of his and his charming nature, he seems to always make it onto the big screens somehow.

It is no surprise that all of his television shows have a ton of action scenes written throughout them, and if you were to “take a shot every time someone threw a punch” you’d surely damage your liver and end up in the hospital, it is no joke that the man loves a good fight and he’d be the one choreographing everything.

𝐋𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐀 the Blogger.

She isn’t interested in sitting down for long periods just typing away at her computer, instead, she chooses to have short messages sprinkled throughout her blog, depicting daily occurrences or some of her shower thoughts.

And while she might argue to you saying that her blog is nothing and it’s just a side hobby, you can’t help but doubt her as you look through her writing, seeing how fond she is of writing about herself and the things that occur in her life. You even notice that her blog is decorated quite well, and it has a fully functioning Q&A section for her most devoted fans.

She looks to be at her happiest when she is typing on her computer, her smile growing wide as you hear some of her mumbles and whispers, her head focused on wanting to tell her followers about a new cafe that had opened up next to her apartment, and how it reminds her of her late lover.

𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄 the Scholar.

It is no surprise that this man wants nothing more but to write about his latest discoveries or experiments.

He wants to detail everything in excruciating detail, you’ll eventually get used to him describing how blood flows and what bone he was experimenting on, and you’ll have to suck it up when it goes on for several pages.

However, something that you didn’t expect was his drawings. You swore that just by looking at his journal, you can see every single bone of a winged creature in a matter of seconds, and his drawings of plants were nothing short of amazing. Somehow in everything he does, he always puts 100% of his energy into it, and it’s clear through his drawings and descriptions that he is truly passionate about his research.

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 the Critic.

He likes to read other people’s stories, truly not one for actually making something completely original but he enjoys what he does. 

His most famous works tend to be related to the study of food, and he’s one of those writers who end up talking about the flavor of a peanut for three paragraphs before moving on to the next ingredient. But aside from these, he is also notable for his quarrel with his brother, and it has been reported many times by journalists that there is a hint of passive aggressiveness laced in his words.

He is skillful and diligent in his works, and oftentimes never wants to leave his study if he were to strike gold. He prefers to be in an empty room or a library, drinking a glass of his favorite red wine with a fountain pen in his hand, alternating between writing and sipping on the crimson drink. 

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 the Essayist.

Loves to rip apart Diluc’s criticism while also tackling political issues that occur in Mondstadt. He is devoted to cracking down and giving his strong opinions on some of the government and communal problems that he finds problematic or need attention.

Most of his work is written in prose format, but on the occasion, his less popular works tackle poetry, something that he describes to be refreshing and almost freeing to do. And when you read his poetry, you find it rather beautiful. It’s not the best and he knows it, but you know that he is trying to get better, and that is what makes it profoundly inspiring.

He likes to write when his room is dimly lit with a candle on his desk, the smell of wood and ink is what calms him down on a late-night, and he won’t stop until his writing travels throughout Mondstadt so that his words of advice can be heard. 

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈 the Lyricist.

He loves to write and sing about the things that he encounters. Whether it be the dance of a flower or the sound of whistles that he heard from a passerby, he always wants to include it in his next song.

He is never seen without his lyre and he is the second writer on the list who wants to perform his works. He thinks that when he gives his lyrics to another singer, they might not understand the feeling or emotion that shows through his words, so instead of taking such a risky move, he decides to perform his songs when he is given the chance to.

You can find him at local bars or underground pubs that celebrate unknown artists. Maybe you can catch him drinking a few of the more expensive wines (despite his low paycheck) as he is writing his next big song. You hope alongside him that more people will be interested in hearing about his in-depth reasoning for writing such heartache songs that come from the simplest thing like a flower or brush of the wind.

He is proud of his work and only wants others to share the same passion as him.

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈 the Novelist.

He is a very simple man, only wanting to write something fantasy-like or unique. He chooses to write mainly about the struggle of mankind and their journey to salvation or victory. 

Many of his stories tend to end tragically or triumphantly, and maybe with a hint of bitter sweetness to them. Sure, he’ll write about a hero succeeding in his dreams and saving the world, but it’ll have to come at a cost, whether it be by his family or friends suffering or dying, they have to make some sort of sacrifice if they ever were to succeed.

And while you discussed with him his rather dark outlook, he argues that it is something he likes to write about and he finds more accuracy in depicting humanity as that: a few people making big moves that could save the world, but can also make mistakes that cost them something great. 

He’s a great person to chat about, and he wouldn’t hesitate to go into detail about all of his books if you were to ask. On second thought, he might actually be glad you asked because he always likes to talk about stories. He wants to talk to Hu Tao about his recent publication, though whenever he tries to find her, she somehow mysteriously disappears.

He thinks about writing a mystery novel about that.

[tsuukirana]

𝟎𝟎 | 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒

A listing of various short writing pieces focused on different scenarios. They will be in bullet-point format and will be relatively short. It will explore a more light-hearted tone and centers mainly on Alternate Universes and may include original characters from the story “Disciplinary Perdition.”

Back to 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 & 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑����𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒?

Explore 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓?

𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗔𝗖𝗧.

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