Hi hiiii how's your day been? I hope your doing well and getting lots of rest!
I LOVE your writing and got an idea that I really wanted to share with you.
Ok so I would love a writer!reader that does writing for fun but they take it very seriously and check to see if their writing is accurate to real life or not, I can imagine writer!reader just asking people with experience on said matter that they are writing about.
I can imagine asking Lilia, "Lilia you used to be a general right? Ok so have you ever been stabbed, if so how does it feel?" And Lilia just sitting there being like, "why do you ask prefect?? "
And they just explain that, their hobby is writing but they just want to make everything accurate.
Or they could ask how does dry blood on skin looks like and without context the twst boys would just look at the prefect with that concerned look you give when you heard someone say something crazy.
I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense english is not my native language and about how long this request is, I just really want to communicate it clearly to you so you won't get confused 😔😔
Oh! And thank you for reading this if you did!
‘Ancient tales for accuracy!’
In which yuu is a writer! It’s always been a passion they hold near and dear to their heart (๑˘︶˘๑) so what happens when they have a few creative ideas that absolutely must have accuracy to 100%? That’s simple! Ask a certain little bat fae who lived through it! /|\ ^._.^ /|\
Lilia Vanrouge x gn! Writer! Reader!
Content warnings: descriptions of violence and blood, slight angst but for the most part fluff, could be seen as platonic or romantic, reader is yuu/prefect,
A/n: Hello, my dear anon! (⁀ᗢ⁀) thank you so much for the request and kind words!!! I am in fact doing well so thank you, I hope you are as well! This definitely peaked my interest and I wanted to do strictly lilia first! It does get angsty and I sort of went off the rails a little bit but I still hope you enjoy!
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Hours.
It had been hours since your last class, hours since you returned to ramshackle, hours you had been stuck sitting at the old and oh so rickety wooden desk that had to be rebuilt countless times.
There were crumpled wads of paper overflowing the rusty wastebasket beside you, all of those papers with ink blotches and scribbled out words were a testament to your mountain frustration
Ever since you were little writing had been a sanctuary for you, something you turned turned to when you had ideas and needed to let your creativity go, something you had done just for the fun of it
It was something you simply enjoyed!
…
Truth be told though…today it felt like your own personal battlefield which was funny considering the fact that your story was literally about a war being fought on a literal battlefield!
Your protagonist was currently bleeding out, it was chapter fourteen and even though your writing so far had been going just as you wanted, it seemed that flow had come to a sudden pause.
All of your words started to feel hallow.
“A sharp pain tore through him as the blade pierced this skin..”
It was cliché! It was sterile! God it lacked the visceral and terrifying reality of violence! One you just couldn’t seem to get a grasp on…
You let out a groan of frustration as you slammed your pen down on the paper, a loud CLACK echoed through the room as you slumped back in the chair, one that if you had pushed back against harder it was sure to give out, the old wood already aged so bad it would give out just from the slightest tap
You knew that if you were going to write about survival and war you needed to understand the precipice of death…that would be easy in this new world since well..most people here had been face to face with it one way or another
As you thought more about it, the more a certain someone came to mind. The one person on campus who stood on that precipice more times than anyone could count.
Lilia vanrouge. Not only was he the vice housewarden of diasomnia he was also an ancient fae. One who had lived through decades of life, of change, of war and bloodshed..surely he was the perfect candidate to help you with your writers block!
━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ
After searching for a while, you found lilia in the botanical garden
He was crouched by a patch of vividly purple and..slightly ominous looking flora. His cheerful humming flowed through the air in a discordant tune. In one hand was a pair of gardening shears, ones that had more than likely been swiped from the shed crewel used for alchemy class and was carefully inspecting a thorny stem.
There were some quiet mumbles from him, ones you couldn’t quite make out fully…was..was he talking about the sap?
Using it as…as an ingredient??
Never mind that. You had business to attend to! You cleared your throat softly as you approached him
“Lilia?” You called out just loud enough to snap him out of his concentration as you clutched your leather bound notebook close to your chest
His pointy ears twitched slightly at the sudden sound of your voice, he paused his oh so delicate inspection as he set the sheers carefully on the ground. Soon he stood up as he began to brush any dirt from his knees with a silent grace
“Ah, prefect! Have you also come to admire the foliage? Oh! Or perhaps you wish to volunteer as a taste tester for my latest culinary experiment? You see the sap here would give a beautifully numbing taste to any dish!”
His fanged smile was bright as per usual, his crinkled with customary mischief as you thought for a moment, shivering at the thought of being a subject to lilia’s cooking again
The last time…well…let’s just say you had been bedridden for weeks and honestly that’s not really something you wanted to experience again
“Uh..well neither, actually” you gave an awkward smile as you clicked your pen a few times, readying your notebook
“You used to be a general right? If I’m not mistaken one in briar valley? I uh…well I have some questions for a scene I’m writing and I’d like for it to be completely accurate to what happens in real life”
Lilia raised a brow knowingly as he puffed out his chest, almost proudly while placing his hands on his hips
“Aha! So my little bat is seeking the wisdom of their elders! By all means ask away, my talented little scribe! Tactics? Logistics? The best way to terrify an entire enemy battalion or mayb-“
“No.”
Your voice cut through completely deadpan and serious before you let out an awkward chuckle. You shifted back and forth on your feet as you looked down at your notebook for a moment before your gaze met lilia’s again and suddenly you were totally serious
“I need to know what it physically feels like to be stabbed…and when you run someone through with a sword how much resistance does the ribcage actually offer before the blade gets stuck? Would it get stuck?”
Lilia’s hands, that were clasped in front of him suddenly went limp at his side
The silence of the botanical garden was absolute, save for the rhythmic dripping of condensation from the glass roof and periodic chirps of birds resting in treesz
He didn’t move. His cheerful smile didn’t Immediately vanish, but it froze, becoming a porcelain mask of sorts…
The usual playful and eccentric fae was suddenly gone, seemingly replaced entirely by a man that had survived centuries of bloodshed. The air around the two of you instantly grew heavy, thick with a sudden suffocating tension that made the hairs on your arms stand up
A long moment passed…well for you it felt like an eternity when in reality it was a minute or two
“Why do you ask me such..gruesome things, prefect?” His voice had dropped an octave, shedding it’s musical beat entirely. Your breath slightly hitched as you saw his eyes grow slightly darker for a moment, his voice was low, resonate, and almost dangerous
One you had never heard him speak in before, one that sent a shiver down your spine as you clutched your notebook
“Well…my writing it feels fake.”
You explained softly, despite the shift you held your ground, determined to get information. Determined to learn.
“I won’t want to write sanitized violence. If a character is suffering I want to respect that by making it real. I don’t want to guess what happens, I don’t want to guess how it feels and get it wrong. I want to know the truth. I want to make this as accurate as possible.”
With that, lilia just stared at you, his wide eyes scanning you for any sign of a joke, though he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t find any. That wasn’t you to joke about things such as this.
It took a moment but the tension in his frame gave way to a weary yet heavy sigh..
He slowly made his way over to a nearby stone planter and at down suddenly the emotion in his eyes made him look every bit of his oh so ancient age
“The truth..” he began in a murmur, his eyes glued to his own gloved hands as he let out a sigh
“The truth is not poetic, little bat. It’s ugly. It’s full of anguish and it smells of copper and void”
You walked over to him, bit wasting a second as you sat beside him, pen hovering over the paper as he glanced up at you
“But…perhaps I can tell you..you do seem quite eager to learn and who would I be to hold back the information you crave to achieve a realistic tale?”
“…”
“When you are stabbed” he began, his voice distant. His gaze moved back to his hands as he sat up straighter, as straight as he really could
“It does not feel like a cut. It feels like a sudden blunt force punch straight through your body. The shock is so instantaneous that your nervous system misfires. Truly, you don’t register the sharpness of the blade…you only feel the agonizing and breathless pressure of foreign steel taking up space inside of your flesh where it definitely should not be.”
For a moment he closed his eyes, brows furrowing as he began to seemingly picture all of it. The distant memories from past battles rushing back to him
“When the initial puncture happens a white hot searing heat speeds from the wound..then comes the cold. An unatural, creeping frost that seeps from the wound and soon into your veins. You gasp but your lungs refuse to expand..you can only taste rust in the back of your throat. Your own blood…a taste that is quite unpleasant.”
“Then when the blade is pulled from your wound..” his words get caught in his throat for a moment before he shakes his head a little
“That’s when the fire begins. It is a blinding and tearing agony. You soon feel the sickening friction of the metal scraping against your own flesh…against your bones.”
Your brows furrowed in focus as your pen scratched furiously against the paper, you were doing your best to capture every horrifying detail but…your eyes kept darting to lilia’s face. The look in his eyes as he describes the feeling, the taste, all of it. It dug a deep pit in your stomach.
“And swinging the sword?” He continued, his voice dropping into a hallow whisper..you paused for a moment, brow raising slightly as he moved to the next topic, your pen beginning to slowly move as you waited for his next words, heart thumping a little quicker against your ribs
“Flesh is not parchment. It drags. It catches. If you strike a clavicle or a rib at the wrong angle, the bone will trap your blade. You will feel the vibration of their breaking bones travel up the steel. Straight into the marrow of your arm. The sound..”
He pauses and swallows hard, his eyes haunted with over decades of grief.
It was more than clear by his words, by the way he spoke that he was speaking about this firsthand. Much like the feeling of what it’s like to be stabbed, he had been at both ends of the sword.
He had felt that vibration of breaking bones. It wasn’t surprising…well maybe if you had just met him. If you hadn’t known he was a general.
If he had told you all of this when you were first sent into this chaotic world? Your jaw would be on the floor. As they say, looks can be deceiving..
“The sound of a ribcage giving way beneath a heavy blade sounds like snapping wet branches. It is a sound that will wake you from your sleep, years later when the night gets too quiet.”
The sheer weight of his words hung heavy in the humid hair of the greenhouse. You had stopped writing, your pen pressed heard onto the full filled paper.
The ink from your pen bled a tiny and dark pool into the paper as you stared at the fae beside you. He was looking down, lost for a brief second in a very cold, and oh so old memory
You took a second to scan over his face, your heart ached as you took a deep breath before gently closing your notebook and setting it aside
Without a word, you reached out and laid your warm hands over his gloved ones, just as a way to silently show him you were there, as a way to silently thank him for sharing.
Lilia blinked, once, twice, three times..the distant shadow in his eyes instantly melting away as he looked down at your hands and slowly up to your face
“I think” you began softly, your thumb tracing gentle and grounding circles over his knuckles, something you had done plenty of times before in different situations
“That’s enough research for today”
He could only stare at you before letting out a breath. One of those breaths that sounded half like a sigh and half a quiet chuckle. The ridged tension in his shoulders dissolving quickly as your thumb brushed over his knuckles
Carefully, he turned his hands over, threading his fingers through yours. The lingering chill of his memories was immediately chased away by the bright and very stubborn warmth you offered.
You were such a bright light in his life, one he was glad he encountered. It was fate that brought you here, a crazy fate but nonetheless. Fate.
He could only look down at your intertwined hands and then up at your face, he shook his head with a gentle smirk tugging at his lips
“Perhaps it is” he agreed with a gentle squeeze to your hand, the familiar musical lilt effortlessly returning to his voice, it was surprisingly quick but you were glad to see him returning to himself
He shifted on the stone planter just a little bit as he leaned into your space, enough so he could comfortably lean his head against your shoulder with a content hum as he gently kicked his feet
“Though..I must admit” he murmured, his voice becoming softer as he basked in the light poring through the glass structure of the greenhouse
“It is incredibly sweet of you to worry about an old general..you truly do possess such a soft, brave and rather protective heart for someone who writes such gruesome tales”
“Ah..uh well I just want to do the story justice” you admitted as you leaned your head against his
“But I don’t want to practically drag you back to a battlefield to do it. Your peace is more important than my chapter, really.”
“Hah! Oh, my little scribe”
His laugh was warm and soft, the sound vibrated pleasantly against your arm as he squeezed your fingers affectionately
“You drag me nowhere but into the sunlight. It takes far more than a few grim questions to truly unsettle an old man like me..though I must admit I am more than happy to accept your comfort!”
He closed his eyes, a picture of absolute, untroubled contentment as the grappled sunlight of the greenhouse warmed you both
There was a moment of silence. Just the two of you, resting and relaxing in the silence. Simply enjoying each others presence…that was until his voice broke through the silence
“However”
He declared, his tone shifting into one of lighthearted authority, “if your protagonist is going to suffer through the ordeal I just described..I have a strict condition as your newly appointed survival consultant”
“Oh? And what’s that?” You asked, an amused smile tugging at your lips as you shifted your head to look down at him, just a little
“Whoever they are. They must survive, and they must receive a throughly indulgent and happy ending. A warm fire, excellent company, and a ridiculously extravagant feast! You see, I will accept nothing less from your magic pen!” Lilia insisted, tilting his head up to follow your movements, just enough to peek at you with bright, playful and teasing eyes
You could only let out a soft chuff, the last remnants of the once heavy atmosphere evaporating completely
“A happy ending. That’s a promise.”
“Good!”
He settled back against you while showing absolutely no intention of moving for the rest of the afternoon, his legs continuing to gently swing
“Now, you may resume your writing. I shall stay right here and ensure your protagonist’s medical recovery is just as accurate! Say how about after this I treat you! I can make you dinner and tell you more tales from life!”
“Ah..uh well how about I cook. I’d love to listen to more stories though!” you said sheepishly as you picked up your pen with your free hand, lilia keeping your other hand firmly encased in his
He only hummed in agreement as you continued to write, the scratching of your pen echoed pleasantly in the quiet garden, guarded not by the shadows of a battlefield…no…but by the quiet and absolute comfort of the immortal resting at your side.
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