#my little knoxie

[azsazz]

Snatched

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Request from @acourtofmenandthirst where Knox gets stolen from the family while they are on vacation. Thank you for the heartbreaking suggestion, enjoy. 😅

Warnings: Kidnapping, weapons

Word Count: 4,015

Notes: Lots of requests for kidnapping fics...y'all okay?

_________________________________________

“Thank you again, Tarquin, for having us,” you speak graciously to the High Lord of Summer. It isn’t often that you and Azriel get time off, and with the over-thoughtful Illyrian Spymaster, he was cautious of where your family set to vacation, untrusting some of the High Lord’s intentions.

But not at the Summer Court. It has been a home away from home for you and your mate since before your children were even born and Tarquin is like a brother to you. Even all six of your energetic children are welcome, unlike Cassian, though the High Lord says that it’s mostly a joke.

“No need to thank me, (Y/N), you know you both are always welcome in Summer,” the High Lord beams before bringing his golden goblet of wine to his mouth for a sip of the saccharine liquid.

You respond with a tired smile of your own, resting your head on your mate’s shoulder who wraps his arm around you, kissing the crown of your hair sweetly. It’s utter bliss. The babes are all playing in another room, the younger of the brood probably fast asleep by now from the help of Tarquin’s most trusted wraiths, who have been helping corral your children throughout your stay.

You peek up at your shadowsinger but he’s already staring down at you lovingly. With the extra eyes on your children it will be much easier for you and Azriel to get the alone time you so desperately need, and you’re hoping to make it through the night without one of the babes sneaking into your bedroom.

And you can see it in his eyes too, slightly hazy from the few drinks he’d allowed himself, looking at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, nearly pleading for you to end this conversation with your old friend so that he can take you to bed.

The High Lord catches your gazes and takes the hint, grinning at the two of you with a wicked smile as he leads the way to the suites.

“Don’t you say it,” you warn your friend, pressing close to Azriel's side. You feel amazing, completely at ease as you stroll through the long halls, the ocean’s salty breeze sweeping all around you.

Tarquin doesn’t listen, chuckling, “Trying for baby number seven then?” he teases and your pink cheeks warmed from the wine sting with a blush. A flash of surprise filters through the bond and Azriel hugs you closer, biting back an amused smirk.

“Quiet you,” you groan, playfully shoving at your friend.

He laughs heartily as he catches his footing. “Shoving a High Lord? That’s the kind of thing that could get you banned from the Summer Court.”

Your snarky retort is on the tip of your tongue when a piercing scream has you all freezing in the hall. Azriel’s shadows immediately slither away as he tucks you closer to him, reaching for the hidden knife in his boot. Tarquin listens to the calls of the water for word of what’s going on as you take off towards the sound.

It’s a wraith, shroud with fear and tears in her eyes as she runs, aqua skirts balled in her fists. 

“Lady (Y/N),” she sobs and you halt. Dread fills your stomach and the look in her eyes has your knees wobbling. “It’s the babe, Knox. He’s–he’s gone.”

__________

The High Lord receives the call from his brother in the Summer Court and he stills, unease twisting his gut like a whirlpool, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the head of the table. His mate glances at him, brows furrowed. The dark feeling sends a shiver up his spine and he knows immediately that something is not right.

Calling out to Azriel he goes still at the brother's words, dark matter swirling from his body and throughout the room, casting it into near complete darkness.

Nyx makes a startled noise, the fork loaded with lovely chocolate cake falls to the plate below with a clang. Feyre clutches onto her mate's hand, begging him to let her in, see what’s going on. He shuts his eyes. He doesn’t want his love to hear this, how Knox was taken from his crib in the Summer Court. The dessert he’s been eating threatens to make a reappearance.

He lets her see and her gasp is heartbreaking. Feyre clamps a hand over her heart in shock, staring up at him with wide, sad eyes. She brushes her fingers through her son’s hair, needing the reassurance that he’s there.

Rhys has to go.

He’s already giving orders, squeezing Feyre’s hand because he can’t even manage to do anything else, he feels too sick to.

He calls out to Cassian, and the warlord replies just as quickly. Rhys can hear the utter devastation in his brother’s voice when he responds, the hot fury burning from his words, letting the High Lord know they’ll be ready.

He and Feyre winnow to the House of Wind, Nyx holding tightly to both of their hands. He doesn’t ask what’s happening, why he didn’t get to finish his cake, he knows better than to pry.

Cassian and Nesta had been in the middle of playing a game with their son, but now, a terrified feeling flitting through the air, it had abruptly ended their competitive match.

Nesta stands with the most emotion he’s ever seen, bracing herself against a chair, hand pressed to her mouth as she stares at Cassian, eyes brimmed with tears. The warlord must’ve just finished telling her what happened as he’s adjusting his weapons on his belt with finality, a murderous look in his eyes.

Gideon keeps glancing between his parents and sends a questioning glance toward his cousin when he sees him, wondering what’s going on. Nyx gives a slight shake of his head; confused doesn’t even begin to describe why his parents are acting like this.

Feyre is to take Nesta and Gideon to the River House where the wards are more secure and wait for Rhys to bring the rest of the babes to safety.

Rhys and Cassian winnow to the Summer Court, their hearts breaking at the sight, plunged into the sound of you sobbing, holding onto your mate for dear life.

He’s never seen this look on Azriel’s face before, and if he didn’t know his brother he’d think him a Death God all his own, hazel eyes dialated with murderous inent, standing stock straight, his shadows already sweeping through the castle for any leads.

Rhy’s is terrified to approach, not only because of the shadowsinger, but because of you. A female who’d just had her son taken. You are sure a force to be reckoned with.

“Where are the rest of the babes?” he murmurs softly. He can see the horror in his brother’s eyes, the heartbreak, how small and scared he is behind that deathly look. He has one hand cradled to the back of your head where it’s buried into his chest, the other wrapped around your waist, holding you upright.

“They’re in the other room with Tarquin and his wraiths,” Azriel’s voice is strained. He’s barely holding himself together but he has no leads yet, shadows revealing nothing of who has taken your son. “We need to question them all.”

You don’t even protest. Even though Tarquin is your friend and would never do something like this, if he had any sort of hand in this you need to know and you need to know now.

Cassian’s already moving for the door, set to watch the children while his brothers create a plan of interrogation and attack. They will not be left without watch again.

__________

Rhys helps Azriel winnow you all to the River House where Feyre, Nesta, and their children wait. The females immediately usher you into their arms, tears streaming down their own faces as they whisper soothing words into your hair.

You’re numb. Can’t feel a thing as you let the floodgates open once more. You hadn’t wanted your children seeing you like this but they were smart, noticed that one of their siblings was missing from the room but didn’t know why.

Wren runs to his cousins, completely confused and alarmed, trying to figure out what they know. He doesn’t know where his youngest brother is and no one will tell him a thing no matter how much he pleads.

Baz’s brows are furrowed in anger. He wants his brother and he wants to see him now. He doesn’t understand why his uncle Cassian isn’t letting him though, and the little boy is beside himself with anger, knowing that something isn’t quite right.

He’s tempted to run over to his older brother, beg him to tell him what’s going on. Surely Wren knows, he is the oldest and knows everything. But Baz waits patiently, arms crossed tightly over his chest as his little shadows swirl around him, slithering towards his parents to listen in.

Zuzu, ever the stubborn half-Illyrian, keeps insisting that she’s going to go wherever her father and uncles are going. Each time one of them sets her down she runs to another warrior on her little legs, begging to be picked up. When they ultimately do she lets them know that she wants to go with them.

Jax’s face is stoic, wide eyes the only thing giving away that he’s watching intently. He doesn’t know what’s going on, too young to understand. He’s irritated by all of the noise, but he can tell that whatever is happening is not good, and he bursts out in tears once Rhys sets him on the floor.

And Knox’s twin sister, Malos, has not stopped crying since her brother had been taken. They’d never been more than a room apart from each other before, often wailing loudly until they were aware they were in the same vicinity with each other, calming down immediately. 

You’re worried she’s going to make herself sick with all of this crying but you can’t even blame her because you had hardly stopped sobbing since you’d found out he was gone.

Overwhelmed, you excuse yourself, slipping out of the chaos and into the nearest room with a lock which just happens to be an extra study.

You brace yourself against the desk, taking a shuddering breath that does little to calm you. Your hands are shaking and your heart feels like it’s been cleaved in two, a piece of you taken with your son.

How could this have happened? How could you have let this happen? Is Knox going to be–

You tense at the feeling that sweeps through the room, dark and heavy. It’s Azriel, emerging from the shadows, not even the locked door keeping him away.

He says nothing as he closes in on you, shuffling you gently into his arms as he rests his head against yours.

There’s nothing to say. Nothing that can fix any of this, make anyone feel better, and while he is going to go off with Rhysand and Cassian to find Knox you are going to be left here with your terrified children asking where their brother is.

“I’m going with,” you say weakly and his grip tightens. You know you’d be of little help, having hardly any training or powers of your own, but he’s your son and you feel the need to aid the search.

“(Y/N), someone needs to stay here with the children,” Azriel begs, cradling your face in his hands. He’s trying to be rational, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen your mate more scared in the long years you’ve been with him. You know that he’s trying to hide how he’s truly feeling but you can feel his hands shaking where they rest against your cheeks and the terrified feeling is burning hot across the bond. It’s mixing with your own sickly fear and it’s consuming.

You can’t stop the tears from falling. Your baby is Mother knows where with Cauldron knows who. 

“Then you stay here,” you bellow, shoving weakly at his chest. He doesn’t so much as move an inch and his trembling hands are doing nothing to ground you. All you can do is stare up at him in disbelief.

“Az, he’s–” you can’t even say it, choking on the words in your mouth as you collapse against him again in a fit of rage and sobs. Your youngest son, gone without a fucking trace, from right under your noses.

“I know,” your mate's tone is strained, like it hurts him to speak, trying so desperately to keep it together for his family. He blames himself, should’ve known better than to think he could relax and enjoy time with his brood.

You’re keeping him too long, pressed up against him and clutching his clothes for support. He needs to go and you need to console the children that are downstairs with the rest of the Inner Circle.

“I should go with you,” you clear your throat, pleading once more, trying to stop the hot tears from flowing freely down your cheeks. You know that he’d take you in a heartbeat but it would mean leaving your other five children to be tended by their aunts. It would serve better for at least one of you to stay and show them that everything is going to be alright, even if you’re not sure you believe it right now.

“I’m going to bring our baby home, (Y/N). I promise you that.”

__________

“(Y/N),” a soft voice calls from the entrance of the room and you wipe your tears furiously. It’s Cassian, the warlord on guard while his brothers search for your missing child. He must have heard your sniffling and come to check on you.

How he’d managed to remove himself from the pile of children that had climbed atop the Illyrian and fallen asleep was beyond you. He is a true warrior indeed.

Your eyes hurt from the amount of tears you’ve spilled and you’re burning with the need to sleep but your stomach is in knots and your mind is racing, thinking of what they could be doing to Knox at this very moment.

Your friend catches sight of Feyre, who’d been keeping you company but had given into her own drowsiness, snuggled into the blanket you’d pulled over her hours ago. She’d offered a helping hand herself but Rhysand was more than adamant that she stay here with you, Cassian, and all of the children in case something should happen.

“You should be trying to sleep,” he says softly, his usual mirthy tone raw with emotion, the ache he feels for you and your mate as he lowers himself to the ground beside you in front of the smoldering hearth.

“How can I sleep when a piece of me is missing?” you question. Your voice cracks and your already burning eyes fill with tears once again. You’re surprised you have anything left to shed, you hadn’t even been able to eat or drink anything since he’d been gone, that feeling in your stomach all too much.

He tucks you beneath his large arm, pulling you in close and it helps a little but not enough. Nothing is ever going to be enough. “He’s okay, (Y/N).”

You swallow thickly, peering up at him weakly. “How do you know that?”

“Because he’s your and Azriel’s son.”

You’re quiet for a moment, mulling the warlord’s words over as you stare into the dying flames before you, missing the warmth against your already hot cheeks.

“I just don’t get it,” you hide your face in your hands, “A child, Cassian. A fucking child. And not just any child, sweet little Knox who can’t even speak,” you sob and he holds you closer. He’s not so good with knowing how to comfort a crying female, often unleashing his own emotions through his fists, but he does what he can and you’re thankful. 

“And I know Az is killing himself over this and remembering how terrifying it was for him when he was young and even though it was his own brothers these are adults who have taken him. Adults who have been trying to hold something over us for centuries…what do you think they’ll do to him?”

Oh Gods, you’re making yourself sick again, hyperventilating at the thought of any sort of harm coming to your child.

Cassian doesn’t even know what to say or do, how to calm you down because Knox may not be his own child but he sure feels like it with how fiercely you all love each other’s children.

So he doesn’t say anything, he just holds you tight until you give into the sleep trying to pull you under, only to jolt awake when you sense your mate’s presence hours later. You haul yourself off of the couch Cassian had laid you on to meet the spymaster, shadows thick like a cloak covering his hands that he’s wringing together.

The look he gives you has you breaking, a slight shake of his head that has you slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle a cry of pain, knees giving out beneath you.

They hadn’t found him.

He looks horrible, hair sticking up from where he’s been pulling it endlessly, dark circles beneath his dull, golden eyes from days of searching, wings drooped lowly behind him in defeat. 

Your little boy must be so scared out there all alone.

“I’m going back out there,” Azriel rasps, a promise in those exhausted eyes. “Just came to switch out Rhys for Cassian.”

You want to offer to help, you’ve been running yourself ragged here, trying to do tasks that will keep your mind from going insane with theories about what is currently happening to your son. But Azriel has the experience, gone for days on end with little to no sleep, he’s used to the kind of stress that comes with a mission. But his heart is involved this time too. He will not stop until Knox is found.

You nod, letting him help you to your feet. You have nothing to say, the thickness in your throat won’t allow it.

You mate kisses your forehead tenderly, gesturing to Cassian that he’s ready to go, taking his brother's arm in his grasp, his shadows sweeping around them thickly, ready to winnow.

A knock on the door sounds.

You look between the High Lord and the rest of your friends, brows furrowed. They’re just as confused as you are, wondering for a moment how someone’s made it onto the property through the wards. It could just be Amren or Mor, and you all follow Rhys as he stalks towards the front room.

Azriel’s breath hitches in his throat as you approach, his shadows already receiving word of who’s on the other side.

“Knox,” he whispers in disbelief at the same time Rhys swings open the door to reveal your little boy cradled in the last person you expected arms.

Baz appears around the corner, woken from a nightmare about his brother going missing. There’s fat tears in his eyes and he’s trying to find you – he loves a good snuggle with his mother, it makes everything better – when he catches sight of his littlest brother.

“Knox,” he calls, startling you all. The boy races through the entry, dodging his aunts and uncles that try to lunge for him with ease. You rush forward as well, straight for the child in the arms of the Autumn Court royal.

Baz reaches him first, colliding with his legs that has the auburn haired male staggering back a step, his grip firm on the babe in his arms. Your son scrambles to try and get a peek of his brother, wholly confused as to why this stranger has him, yelling at the lordling to hand his sibling over.

Eris looks like he’d rather be anywhere else as Cassian steps towards him with a glare, prying young Baz off of him. He’d like to see what the tiny half-Illyrian could do, knows he could land some good hits on the autumn native, but now’s not the time, not as he’s surrendering Knox over to you.

You don’t even care that it’s Eris. He has Knox and he looks as happy as ever, playing with the lordlings long fingers.

“Knox,” you cry, taking him from the Autumn male and hugging him tightly to your chest. Rhys has already called for Madja to check on the child and while you examine him, rubbing your fingers across his chubby cheeks Feyre and Nesta lead you away from Eris.

As soon as he has a clear shot Azriel takes it, shoving the male up against the wall with Truth–Teller pressed up against his neck, hissing down at him.

He ignores Baz’s cheering, muffled quickly by Cassian’s large hand covering the boy’s mouth.

“Eris,” his voice is like midnight, sending shivers up the Autumn male’s spine. He knew it was a risk to bring the babe back like this, how it would look when he showed up with the shadowsingers youngest in his arms, but when his mother had handed him the child and begged him to get him back to safety he couldn’t refuse.

He holds his hands up in surrender and only Rhysands grip on Azriel’s shoulder makes the shadowsinger stop, fully intent on killing the auburn haired male before him.

They let Eris speak, you listening with half an ear while the healer looks over the content babe in your arms. You still can’t believe that he’s here, dread slowly ebbing from you when she deems him unharmed and retreats back to the library.

It had been Beron’s plan, and the lordling didn’t even know the babe was in his court until his mother had come to him, beaten and bloody but curling the little boy into her chest, pushing him gently into Eris’ arms with tears streaming down her face.

One look at the babe and his stomach had dropped. He knew exactly who’s child he was cradling in his arms, and had seen that very look directed at him more times than he could count throughout his 500 years of life.

Confused and absolutely terrified of what would happen should the shadowsinger show up and see his son in the arms of the Autumn Court royal, he set out to return him, not only for you and Azriel, but for his mother. She’d been absolutely broken when Beron brought the babe to her, for she knew just how cruel her husband can be and it reminded her of what he’d been dreaming to do to her youngest son, Lucien.

Eris hated to leave his mother there. Amber eyes burning hot at the sight of her and this babe, quiet and calm but staring up at him with a look that made him shift uncomfortably. Must be a family trait.

He hadn’t known how exactly his father knew where you were or how to attack, but he could give Azriel the go ahead to finally kill that son of a bitch. For his mother, for himself, for you.

This is simply something he never would have done.

Even Rhys gives a slight shake of his head in agreement, permission to do just that and a gleam in his eyes to say that he will personally help the shadowsinger rid Prythian of its resident Autumn abuser.

Eris has to admit that the thought of stealing a child made him sick. Couldn’t even fathom what he’d feel like if he had children of his own, but as he took care of the little boy now tucked safely in your arms – the poor thing – and the reaction of his older brother, so fiercely running into the fray to get to him, it made his heart ache in a different sort of way.

And as much as he doesn’t like the shadowsinger, and he’ll never admit something like this aloud – he does have some cute children.

[heliads]

If requests are still open :) Something for dead poets society, just sth with the gang having a good time, maybe trying to stage a play in the woods? Tbh just a everyone lives and is happy AU with fluff and winter and hot tea! (while I love this book I havent read it in a very long time...)

ok consider an everyone lives au but they are not 100% happy. (i am incapable of not writing angst my apologies) also this is movie dead poets society not book because i have not yet read the books whoops. hope you enjoy xoxo

'and it's not tonight' - dead poets society

masterlist

Todd Anderson is looking out the window at a gray, blustery morning, when they ask him if he’s going to be alright. It wasn’t quite certain before then. It’s not quite certain now, either, even after he answers.

“Of course,” he says somewhat unconvincingly, “Why do you ask?”

Behind him, Charlie Dalton raises a dubious brow. For once in his life, he’s holding himself back, but the situation requires discretion, and who is he to mess up at a time like this? He’s already been warned about treating Todd like a glass doll rather than a paper mache target, but even Charlie can tell that now is the time to pull a few punches. The hollows under his friend’s eyes are far darker than they were a couple of months ago. He wears unease like a well-traveled coat, thin at the elbows and rubbed raw at the seams.

“Look at yourself,” Charlie answers at last, “You’re exhaustion walking. And don’t tell me otherwise, I’ve got eyes.”

“I should hope so,” Todd remarks, and permits himself a small curl of his lips up into a half-smile. Half-smiles are good, though. Almost there to the real thing. So he’ll tell himself, at least.

Even a half-smile can let Charlie know that he’s alright. The other boy breaks into a well-intentioned snorting laugh. “Hey, ask any girl in town and they’ll tell you I’ve got beautiful ones. ‘Sides, Anderson, you know everything’s alright. The stuff with Neil was cleared over, right? He came back.”

“He came back,” Todd repeats somewhat weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, he came back,” Charlie confirms, walking over to clap his friend on the shoulder, shaking him a little bit just to mess with him but mainly to get his affections across. “He’s a little more tired than he used to be, and we’re all plenty scared from what could have happened, but overall we’re glad to see him again. His parents realized they messed up in the nick of time, and even if they wanted him under watch for a little bit, he’s back and we’re back and everything’s alright. Capiche?” He asks dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows for a bit of flair.

“Since when are you Italian?” Todd asks doubtfully.

“Since the situation requires it,” Charlie answers him, and slings an arm around the boy’s bony frame. “Come on now. The snow’s cleared up, and even if all that does is remind us how little grass grows on our campus, it means we can go into the woods again. I’ve been talking to the boys and we all agree that it’s time to dust off our finesse with literature. What do you say, Todd? You up for another rousing poetic exchange tonight?”

Todd jerks his head up and down in a hasty agreement. “Yeah. Neill’ be there?”

“Yeah, and me, and Knoxie, and everyone else you forgot to mention,” Charlie says in a tone of mock outrage. “God, you live with the guy, don’t you? Can’t you spare some excitement for the rest of us, too?”

Todd rolls his eyes, and finds the grace to elbow Charlie in the ribs. “Spare me the self-indulgence, Dalton. I’m glad to see all of you.”

“Don’t I know it,” Charlie affirms. “It’s been a while since we were all together, yeah?”

Todd blows out a low breath as they walk back towards the halls. It has been a long time, or it felt that way, at least. After the– after the incident after the play, in which Neil was found in his father’s study with a gun in his hands about to blow the trigger, it was decided that all of the pupils of Welton Academy would go home for a short period of time to clear their heads and come back ready to face the end of term. 

Mainly, Todd thinks it was so rumors couldn’t spread about just what happened with Neil Perry to take him out of school, and he’s glad for it. Neil doesn’t deserve to have everyone whispering about what happened to make him decide that the best thing for his life was to end it. Neil deserves the world, and none of them could give it to him.

That was the worst part of it all, Todd decides. The guilt, how it wrapped around him in wires as strong as the heaviest chains of iron. He couldn’t escape it. If he was really Neil’s friend, he would have known. If he was really Neil’s friend, Todd could have stopped him. If he was really Neil’s friend, Todd wouldn’t have found out about the attempt the next morning, quietly awoken from drowsy sleep by a Charlie Dalton with eyes like a stricken soldier as he lurchingly informed Todd that Neill Perry had tried to kill himself the night before. And none of them had known. And when his father had taken the gun away, Neil fought and screamed for it, worse than he did when he tried to convince his parents that he wanted to act, louder than he protested that he would be sent away to military school.

And then they were alone. At home. The worst place for boys to be. Should you grieve the friend who is not dead? Do you call each other on the phone, and ask if you have been playing any sporting games with other boys your age, or if you have given any thought to the fact that your friend might not have wanted to die if you had praised him more in class, or clapped louder when he performed, or said something– anything– to this beautiful, brittle boy?

They don’t say any of that. They think it quite loudly, but unspoken thoughts do not travel well over the telephone. The flittering ghosts of would-be words tend to get lodged in the coils of wire from receiver to housing, across the street and over the miles of terrain until they reach the abode of the boy on the end, who also has a lot to say but won’t. And then they both stay silent. And they both know exactly what the other wanted to say anyway. That is how friendship works.

They came back, though. Welton sent out a series of letters to usher back the pupils, even had its secretaries working overtime to call the people who never seem to answer their mail. There was another rush of cars and luggage to the dorms, and then they were settled in again. Todd had wondered if he might be assigned another roommate– anyone other than Cameron, God, but preferably Neil still– and then the door had opened quietly and Neil was there again, trying for a brave smile, and saying, “Todd?” in a voice that had once rung pure and true through a theater that loved him.

Todd loves him for it. He’d embraced Neill with open arms, felt the air punch out of his lungs in one strike, but it came back. He came back. They were alright again, sort of. They might be alright in time, but time is what they have.

Now they’ve all been waiting for the snow to melt, and treading on thin ice around topics they don’t dare broach. Neil has been a good sport, never making them feel awkward for wanting to treat him like a china doll. He was good before, too, though, and– It gets hard to tell sometimes, that’s all. Hard to tell when he genuinely is unbothered and when he’s superbly good at pretending otherwise. They stick to safer subjects anyway.

At last, though, the ground is firm, the weather not terrible, and Charlie’s gone and rallied the troops for a night out there. At first, Todd’s first instinct is to panic. They aren’t supposed to be having any more meetings of the Dead Poets Society, not since Keating was the scapegoat for all the trouble and everyone cracked down on what makes a good boy want to escape, but over time he realizes that it’ll be alright. Some things are worth the risk. Making Neil smile again is one of them.

They meet at midnight. Todd sits awake with bated breath, even though the act by itself isn’t even all that unusual. They’re teenage boys. Staying up until the moon hangs high and lofty in the sky is expected, not uncommon. Still, a delicious shiver of inherent wrongdoing whispers down his spine when Neil walks slowly into the center of their shared dorm room and says quietly, reverently, “It’s time.”

As if the others had been waiting upon that very proclamation, the remaining boys peer out into the hall immediately after Neil and Todd silently close their door behind them. Their eyes meet with shared secrecy, shared triumph, and they make their way down the wooden stairs and out into the bristling chill of night. The stars are out tonight. We are all out tonight.

They all start heading out into the woods. Charlie takes off like a flash at the end of a matchstick, hurtling at a runner’s sprint across the hills, and the others follow him at varying speeds. Todd begins walking at a normal clip until it occurs to him that he doesn’t see enough heads bobbing around him and he turns to see Neil hesitating by the door.

They lock eyes, and Todd sees a whole host of things swimming in brown irises, fear and apprehension and a sick sort of guilt that makes Todd’s stomach squirm in sympathy. He gives Neil one last moment over the threshold, then jerks his head towards the others, putting a little faux arrogance into the gesture in the hopes that an actor might appreciate an act in someone else and remember what it is like to trust oneself again.

Neil accepts the move and grins, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. “I’ll race you to the caves,” he calls, and begins to run, his footsteps sure and strong.

Todd stares after him, an astronomer watching his first comet, then takes off after him. The grass is dry and quick under his feet, spread out under each footstep like the wake of a speedboat. The wind, already coarse, pulls at Todd’s skin, his hair, his clothes, but not even the strongest gusts could keep him down. Somehow, he’s already to the edge of the forest, and he lets out a loud, delighted whoop. A barbaric yawp, if you will. Somewhere in the back of Todd’s mind, a dark-haired man in a comfortable brown sweater smiles indulgently, and chalks up another small victory to the wonders of poetry.

The second his war cry leaves Todd’s throat, the other boys swarm him like moths to a flame. Someone claps a hand over his mouth, and around him, laughs echo into the crunching of leaves underfoot. 

“Don’t be so loud, you’ll get the professors on us in no time,” someone admonishes, but then a different boy cuts in, “Don’t be stupid, we’re far enough out that we can all be shouting,” and Todd’s punishment is lifted and he can yell once more. His defender– Neil, it must be, no one else can make their voice ring with glory like that in just a few words– joins in in the triumphant calls, and then they’re all shrieking up to the stars above, here we are, not boys and not men, bold enough to scream and young enough to never listen.

Todd thinks, as they run through the forest, that it’s been a while since he let himself go free. He hasn’t listened to his mind in a long time, hasn’t let the words roll around in his brain, loose marbles of similes and paraphrased poems. His musings are dusty, dark things most of the time, but sometimes the light catches them just right and they glow like sapphires. He could write a thousand stanzas if he wanted to, right now, and everyone would listen.

The Dead Poets Society reaches the caves and a hush falls among the crowd. Slowly, they edge inside, eyes wide. The rock faces and crumbling caverns should be different, Todd thinks, something should mark the passage of time and all the awful things that have twisted their fates since the last time they sat together and thought of prose, but the stones still look as they did the last time they were here. The moss grows in familiar patterns, albeit a little thicker in certain patches now that it hasn’t been scuffed by boots in a month or so, but one of Charlie’s magazines that he forgot to take back with him turns up under some spiderwebs, and Todd’s favorite place to sit is still just as inviting. Maybe, then, the only thing that changed was them. Maybe that’s all that needs to happen.

“So?” Meeks asks, settling into a seat, “What are we doing tonight?”

“Poetry, duh,” Charlie answers him, rolling his eyes fondly. “We’re the Dead Poets Society. What else would we do, peruse our textbooks?”

This earns him a vengeful swat on the shoulder from Meeks, but even Charlie can admit that the question was fair. They’ve read plenty of poems, they’ve written a few, they’ve even gone off and run some improv limerick challenges, although Todd notes that they haven’t brought nearly enough alcohol for that tonight.

After a few moments’ thought, someone suggests a play. It might be Todd. Instantly, the idea is accepted, and roles are divided out. They’ll be doing Hamlet, since there are plenty of long sticks outside and everyone is quite fond of the idea of pretending to run each other through. Pitts is already practicing his death rattles, except he’s not very good at it, and it sounds more like he’s hacking up a lung or two.

Neil, though, is glowing at the idea, and even though they haven’t got any scripts so everyone is mostly just planning on paraphrasing the hell out of one of William Shakespeare’s finer works, Todd gets the idea that Neil has a few memorized soliloquies rattling around in his head already.

Good, then. They’ll enjoy tonight, and the next night they’re out here, and the one after that, too. It has been a very long winter, but Todd has caught his first glimpse of new spring, and he gets the feeling that warmer, sunnier days aren’t the impossibility they seemed a few weeks ago. The days are healing, and they will too. And so the Dead Poets come back to life.

requested by @reinekes-fox, i hope you enjoy!

dead poets society tag list: @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[05-redacted]

Here's a note what is the best way to puff a hotter out of that schedule pile I have heard studded all over againYou are smart and intelligent and i expect to be smart and intelligent sometimes you want to build a unique like one you'll be one started in those brains that's why i get you instead of oliver again

Default I did not ask of you to gallery or pass a case to be lurking around Bunny backgroundBlasty had a puzzle shiited bullshit puzzled air and logicality and lest me that hole in a clothes keep your old clothes little times this was an invitation of their town commentary for shut it

Third of the list you cannot be doing that you are the cease to imagine drain middley knoxygen sponsor procrastinate later isn't what we do yet end in discussionNor block opposes no boats and posts no reposts no being near my internet city here until her enough follow me or more bullshit on any content due with me mine There is an opening few of course and that is to sell food here yourself to some self terms and english inside of cells that are you knoxy's essence but are exceptions by it

You are all in or all out or nothing like a white no she's a gray hair no she washington is don't be mother to feel like it one moment and not being mother to feel like in the toilet there's a shoe doing it just aside and stick with

Ashley i visitor hotel and its policy for teenagers like you being some of them in it they're feeling will be good comma urgent to become a bad karma where it's bad karma what goes around and what comes round therefore

My 3:00am couldn't process this and I still can't...

Blink twice if you need help

[happys-crazy-queen22]

Just Like Daddy

Gif by me. 😁

I hope everyone enjoys some cute Nick.

Having the day off, you decided that you wanted to spend it with your son and Nick but of course Nick was working at the store with Nate. But you figured why not have a little picnic with them for lunch.

"Let's go see, daddy". You kissed the top of Knox' head and placed him in the car seat. At two months old he was the spitting image of Nick. Even had Nick's little attitude when he was hungry.

You loaded up everything in the car and headed off to the shop. When you got there Nick and Nate were play fighting out front.

"Ahh, there's daddy and Uncle Nate". You squealed looking in the rearview mirror at your sleeping son.

Carefully getting Knox out you cradled him in your arms, walking over to Nick.

"Hey, babe". You waved to Nick with a smile.

"Time out". Nick pointed to Nate and ran over to you. "Hey. How are you two doing"? Nick asked kissing your lips, then gave Knox a kiss to his head.

"Great. You guys doing anything"?

"Taking a break. We weren't doing much so we came out to enjoy the nice day. Why"? Nick rested his sweaty head in between your neck and shoulder.

"Wanted to see if you two were free for a picnic? I havent seen much of you lately and Nate has just disappeared. I miss us all hanging out". You rubbed his cheek with your free hand.

"We're free. Just let me kick Nates butt and we'll be ready". Nick chuckled and went back to play fighting with Nate. You stood there giggling. Those two were quite a show to watch.

Looking down you saw Knox looking up at you with a grin. He must have heard Nick's voice. Did I mention he was a daddys boy?

"You're up, just in time for the show". You sat Knox up in your arms, letting him see his uncle and daddy play fight. He never seen Nick or Nate fight before. You stopped going to Nick's fights when you were about six months along. It was to dangerous, Nick said.

Nick playfully slapped Nates face, making Nate go for the stomach which Knox didn't like. He started whining.

"Tell em. Say Uncle Nate stop hurting my daddy". You shook Knox' fist in the air.

"Come here, Knoxie". Nick came over and scooped Knox up in his arms. "Fight uncle Nate. Show him how its done". Nick took Knox' little fist and gently touched Nates cheek. Nate dramatically fell down.

"Oh you got me, Knox. No more". Nate giggled on the ground. Nick pranced around cheering. A little smile on Knox' face. A bigger smile on Nick's.

"Knox Diaz. Diaz, Diaz". Nick chanted. "That's my son. I'm so proud". Nick laughed, he held Knox safely up in the sky with both hands, bringing him down to kiss his cheek. "Champion".

"Yay. Our son the champ". You clapped coming over to Nick. This was the happiest you've seen Nick in a while. He was going through somethings but he always had a smile for Knox.

[evangeline-perry]

Knox x reader x Neil part2

masterlist

part 1 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

And so the weekend rolled around. Currently I am in Knox’ room helping him with his outfit for his date.

‘No, no tie’, I tell him, ‘it’s a party, not a dinner at your parents’.’ Knox lets out a chuckle: ‘You’re probably right’, he turns to me, putting a hand on my shoulder, ‘Thank you, Harley, for being such a good friend, I wouldn’t know what to do without you, you’re the best.’

I have to force my lips to curve into a smile: ‘No problem.’ With that Knox lets go of my shoulder and goes to grab his coat, ‘I’m gonna go pick up Chris, but I’ll see you and the guys at the party.’

Without another word he storms out of the room, leaving me there alone. Sighing I gather my things and go to my room to get ready.

I chose a simple dress to wear with my converse shoes. As I’m finishing up my hair, I hear a knock on the door. ‘It’s open’, I call out.

The door opens to reveal Neil in a casual yet stylish jacket shirt and jeans. He left the top buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. He walks into my room offering me his usual sweet smile. I offer him a half-hearted smile through the reflection of my mirror. This he seemed to notice immediately as he went to stand behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder: ‘Harley, why do you do this on yourself?’

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, finishing up my hair.

‘Why do you keep chasing after Knox’, he clarifies, ‘Even when it’s so clearly he’s with that girl?’

‘I-… I don’t know’, I sigh, leaning against Neil slightly, ‘I just want him to be happy, I guess, and I was just hoping that hoping that maybe he’s see that...’

‘You’re the one who understands him’, He finishes, ‘the one who’s been there all along?’

I nod simply. Neil unwraps his arms from my waist, puts them on my shoulders and turns me around to face him, ‘Now listen to me’, as he says this, I notice how close he is to me, as he speaks, his breath fans my face. Suddenly flustered I turn my gaze away and attempts to take a step back. Neil seemed to notice this however, as he places his one hand gently on my upper arm and the other under my chin, giving me no other choice but to look the tall boy in the eye.

‘If he doesn’t realize or appreciate the things you do for him by now, he is not worth the pain.’ I could never explain why but something in the intensity of his gaze captivated me, almost even left me in awe.

‘then what do I do?’ I ask him, in some kind of trance.

‘Move on’, the hand that was under my chin carefully moves to my cheek, stroking it gently, ‘or at least try to, find a guy that does see your beauty, your smarts, your… everything.’

‘But I…’

‘Look, I’m not saying you have to force yourself to move on right now. Take your time, as much time as you need. When you’re ready, I’ll still be here for you.’

‘Wait, what do you-’

‘I should go, Todd’ll want some help figuring out what to wear’, with that he drops his hands and leaves the room, leaving me momentarily too stunned to react.

*Some time later*

‘Hey guys!’ Knox greets us, holding Chris on his arm, ‘Glad y’all could make it.’

‘Ow, come on now, Knoxy, I wanna dance’, Chris whines, dragging him away from his friends and onto the dancefloor.’ They begin dancing to the loud music, but honestly… all they’re really doing is just grinding on each other -_-

I turn my gaze away from the scene and scoff in annoyance. Suddenly though I feel a hand gently place itself on the small of my back. I glance over to see Neil has begun to lean in closer to my ear so I could hear him over the loud music: ‘If you want to leave this place, just say the word and I’ll drive you back.’

I simply turn to him, looking him in the eyes as I take hold of his hands, ‘Dance with me’, I say as a slow song begins to play. Keeping my hold on one of his hands, we walk onto the dancefloor. He places his arms around my waist as mine wrap around his neck. After a few seconds I rest my head in the crook of his neck. In response, he wraps his arms around me a little tighter, so that now there is no space left between their bodies.

[scribblemetae]

Hey Knoxie, I feel like it's been a while but I just wanted to wish you a lovely day.

I'm so excited to read everything you've put out. I'm ready to get fucked up 😈

Also welcome to a crackhead fandom that is straykids little stays 😂🖤

💖💖💖 thank youuuu!! Youre messages are always so sweet ^_^

I'm glad you're excited to read my works ^_^ 💖

And yessss!!! Im still a babie but bangchan is the sweetest potato 🥔🤧💓

[eeriestatic]

☠ - slam my muse into a wall + ☀ - pin my muse with their arms behind their back - Alto @ Knoxy [gotta start somewhere]

It appears that Knox had some troubles with walls ever since the Fang encounter. He could've sworn he cracked a rib in the process of that, and it left knox sore even from a good while ago that had passed - he wasn't expecting that very same process when he was treading around again - while Syo was stuck in his limbo rounds, Knox took the time to at least find out some insight and explore a little more even if the serpentine was ushered out of some rooms. It was odd to let a D-class be wandering, at least regarding what he had to wear didn't make him alike the others obviously. Everyone had their assumptions, but it appears the man that was coming at Knox from behind had his own while the lanky serpentine was making his way down towards the branching left and right cut path. However, in his meanderings had him a bit distracted - he was looking at freehand documents that were open for even the minor and new trainees to touch and invest in the common breaches of the facility - and each sentence he'd read, the steps got closer to him. Squinting, he gawked at the low res image on the page before suddenly - he was barged into from behind which left him no window to react as he felt his weight slam into the wall across him now, the thudding impact eliciting a pained and annoyed growl from his arms being taken back behind him in the middle of it. Leaving Knox no protection to catch himself, instead bashing the side of his face against the solid wall and screwing up his glasses in the process.

Dazed eyes blinked a few times while teeth gritted in mere fury that wanted to explode on the spot - it was on purpose and he knew it, but the grip Alto had on his pinned arms were strategic enough to keep him from thrashing. If he would, he'd hurt himself and he knew it as soon as he tried reeling back, only urging the pinning grip from Alto as Knox tried to press away from the wall.

"What's wrong with people?!" Knox snapped. "Is this about your pancakes-?! Hu--uh wait- a minute..." Knox paused from his paining efforts, he wasn't going anywhere but as he was able to side eye over his shoulder, he seen no one, usually he'd be able to see Fang. Alto was shorter than Knox to say the least and by his angle, he seen no one but he knew someone got him. He was confused, and it was evident for how he suddenly relaxed and bopped himself on the head by bumping it against the wall. "I don't get the joke..." Was all he stated in the end.

[astrangergivingthestrangewelcome]

So I mean as female historian I of course know that misogyny has deeply deeply scarred, damaged, and made quite a lot of women very unhappy for millennia and I know I shouldn’t trivialize that but also... sometimes... misogynists do the most hilarious things like??? How am I supposed to take John Knox seriously when he does shit like write a whole book which he titled “The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstruous Regiment of Women”? How am I not supposed to laugh my ass off like “lol Knoxy does somebody have a bad relationship with woman? A little perplexed by the opposite gender are we? Pissed off a few of the queens that are ruling the Isle of Britain lately?” I’m fully aware of the terrible consequences his actions had for Scottish women during the Scottish Reformation but I just. A title like that and I cannot stop picturing him as a greasy Men’s Rights activist living in his mom’s basement I’m a terrible historian and feminist please send help.

[terriblygrimm]

tagged by: @wackywriterwhowriteswhenever and my bb teresa @navcissus ❤️❤️ thank you guys!!

nickname: delphine calls me nads (lmao @delphineera ), my college friend calls me knoxy. some ppl on here call me grimm. i’m thinking about rebranding myself tho and going by my middle name bc i never liked my first name. it’s elyse so i’m thinking el? toying with the idea

zodiac: capricorn. i don’t know how to determine any of the other sun/moon signs so lol

height: 5’6

hogwarts house: ravenclaw

song stuck in my head: i havent really had anything stuck in my head today which is so unbelievably surprising bc there’s usually always something

following: 764. i’m betting 90% of them are inactive though since i only see the same 10 ppl on my dash (which i’m not complaing about ❤️)

followers: 1,120

amount of sleep i get: ive actually been getting a normal amount of sleep since i started working at my law firm in january and it’s been BEAUTIFUL. 8 hrs roughly but i’ll stay up late sometimes but even 5 hrs is great. so happy i’m out of the vet field it was agony

lucky numbers: i’ve never really had any. never believed in lucky numbers

dream job: doing nothing lmao. living in the woods somewhere, having fires in my warm, adorable house with a dog. who wouldn’t have their dream job as no job at all? isn’t that the goal?

wearing: my pajamas lol which are smokey the bear themed bc he’s my hero 🐻

favorite songs: lmao i mean... there’s about 5000 so i couldn’t even begin. also whenever i’m asked my favorite anything i instantly forget everything i’ve ever enjoyed

instruments: i can play 9 instruments, but i am currently only active on the piano

random fact: i got to GIVE AN ELEPHANT A BATH on my birthday one yr and it was ❤️

aesthetic: it depends. sometimes it’s comfortable trashbag, other times it’s androgynous, other times i’ll throw in some make-up. i guess my OVERALL aesthetic is like existentially over-it jughead mixed with a poor person’s version of regal freddie mercury and a little bit of button-downs-buttoned-up-to-my-chin nerd. so if you can picture ANY of that you deserve an award

tagging: @repressedgaymer @raycicle @silveralecmain @delphineera @paladin-cleric-mage

[invisibletoallbutfaeries]

meta topic on why faes are the worst

       Ever heard the song “I Don’t Fuck With You” by Big Sean? They are simultaneously that song (they don’t give a fuck) but they also aren’t because they will indeed fuck with you, but for their own amusement. That’s the short answer.

       The long answer has more to do with the fact that they’re value systems, senses of morality, and social rules are completely different to humans. 

       Going with a quick RL example to help ground this argument a bit: I was raised with the value system that you helped your friends and never expected a reward back. If they insisted on giving something back or “owing” you something, then they could decide what it was (usually monetary, usually landed on $20 because I’ve been a reader since I was a kid and it turned into book money). Even now that I’m an adult I still don’t expect anything from my friends if I help them unless I too need help and we agree to mutually help each other, if not and they want to reward me, then I offer they can buy me a coffee or rockstar from Blackrock which is usually nearby (flavored rockstars are usually only like $4.34 after tax and even coffee is only $4-5, but they’re cheaper and better than Starbucks plus I’m addicted to them).

       When I was a kid I didn’t realize other systems existed, and I first learned this when my dad helped out some of his friends who were visiting from Alaska and lost their original place to stay for the week by letting them stay with us. As this was a general kindness and just considered human decency, none of my family expected anything. That wasn’t how people from Alaska do things though, and the day before they left I came home to finding our fridge and pantry completely filled and even more groceries on the kitchen table and filling every cabinet, which freaked me out because to me that was a huge return for something as small as offering a room and bed for a week free of charge. A thank you would have sufficed. But when I went to say something, worried they thought something bad about us and thought we wanted something as extravagant as that, my mom had to stop me and thank them, later explaining that to them that was a simple thank you and my insisting it was unnecessary would have insulted them. It was simply a clash of cultures at that moment and a clash of social rules and value systems. 

To me: My family offering a place to stay during their visit (which wasn’t originally to visit us) was really small and expected of any good friend. Stockpiling our house with food was over-doing it and more alarming considering they didn’t have a lot of money and caused me to worry about them and their expenses to get home if they spent so much on us.

To them: Being offered a place to stay was a huge thing and stockpiling our house with food was a small thank you comparatively and it would have been worrisome and insulting if I had worried over it in front of them as I almost had.

       And that’s usually the root of human-Fae relations. They have completely different social rules, such as a brownie only living in a clean house and fixing your shoes if you keep it clean and hospitable for them and stealing your shit in an obvious “fuck you” manner before leaving with it if you suddenly trash the house. They saw a mutual agreement where you kept the house clean and they became roommates and helped with what they could, you suddenly trashing the place and expecting them to clean was a huge insult.

       No one knows why Fae steal babies. Sometimes it’s a prank, some just a swap, but some only steal them to teach them music and then return them and it’s hard to tell which one stole your toddler. Maybe the toddler did something rude, who knows.

       The biggest thing that’s most prevalent though is that Fae are heavily steeped in THEIR OWN RULES. They do not care about the culture of the people they are co-existing with and expect them to follow the societal and hierarchical rules that they know without those others even knowing what they are. Most myths can easily be seen as someone messing up or accidentally doing something right and suddenly discovering that whatever happened is a thing they didn’t know was a thing. To Fae playing pranks is very common and death just happens, so if they kill something then it’s not a huge deal. Depending on the Fae they’ll either eat it, use it for an accessory, sell the accidental corpse, or even just leave it and expect it to decompose and become one with nature as everything else is. If the particular Fae is in the Seelie court, maybe they’ll leave a flower on the door of the deceased’s family if it’s a highly dramatic death. Maybe a note mentioning that the loved one is dead if they’re feeling particularly sympathetic. 

       The Fae do not care about you. They do not care about your family. They don’t care about your dog, your cat, or your cow. They just don’t. Humans, to them, are low on the hierarchal ladder and they don’t care about anything that is not their’s or belongs to someone higher up on the ladder than them. They’re pranks are tailored to their various kinds, which makes them deadly to humans who cannot always see the trap coming or who can be negatively affected by their magic, even with genuinely sincere things (ex. offering a fancy pie they baked with Fae magic and then discovering that the human can’t eat human food without throwing up anymore and REQUIRES Fae-made food to survive due to the Fae magic. To the human this is a cruel joke and sadistic method to murder them with for no known reason, to the Fae they don’t realize the context and think that they’re being made an unwilling cook for a greedy human they tried to befriend and are highly offended). They will not communicate, they see no reason to. They are as entitled as their hierarchal status deems them, which means they are always entitled when compared to animals and humans (Hide your cows, they’ll steal all the milk). They are stubborn and view themselves as better than all below their social structure and somehow expect everyone to follow this structure despite not knowing about it. 

       They are chaotic, but only seen as so by structured societies as they tend to follow the rules of their kind and nature, with the Sidhee (The Royals of each faction especially) keeping them in line with those lines, not caring about other social structures. Their morality is different, again, accidental murder doesn’t matter and carries no moral weight for them because it is an aftermath of a prank, it just had a more dramatic result. Their values are more self-focused and focus more on nature, not on social or community needs like humans tend to follow. They especially don’t care about OTHER communities. If push comes to shove, humans from opposite sides of the country will still work together to survive and make new communities, figuring out cultural differences and communication issues as they go. Fae don’t do that.

       A Satyr will give zero fucks to the happiness of a Pixie, and similarly a Pixie will give little to no fucks about the Satyr’s squirrel friend and will instead utilize it as a labor animal rather than a friend and will not work on communicating this with the Satyr (Kyra experiences this a lot with Knoxie the Pixie constantly trying to utilize her Lhasa Apso puppy as a war-horse type thing and leading him into dangerous scenarios despite Kyra’s protests). Both the Satyr and Pixie will hang on the every word of a Shidee though as the Shidee are far more powerful, but the Shidee will not give a damn about them and will instead view them as peasants at best, servants moderately, and test subjects for their magic or to test dangerous waters at worst with no regard for their lives. Again, they’ll rejoin nature so no big deal. If the Satyr gets drunk though he might kill the Pixie, the Shidee will only use this as proof to why it is the better Fae variation.

So again in short:

Mostly Cultural miscommunications and large cultural deviations in moral, value, and social constructs. But in the end, the Fae Don’t Give a Fuck, but they will Fuck With You because they see you as a lesser being. Gods help you if you’re even vaguely rude though.

[azsazz]

omg BABE congraaats! SO excited for u 👏 I absolutely adored Midnight Muse, so even though a small part of me wants to hoard and gatekeep our precious fic in this fandom, you deserve the success and recognition, and the world deserves good books! 💖

Remember us and remember where u came from when you blow up 🥹 luv uuuuu

now, some questions 4 u:

How was it to 'un-acotar-ize' the story, and find alternate names for everyone? Do you still picture the acotar characters in your mind in the new version? I'm curious what the rest of the changed names are apart from Quinn and Knox (which are awesome names btw), are the other changed names something you can share, or is that a secret? (it's fine if not, I'm just super curious 😁) Also, was 'Knox' a reference to one of Az's sons in your fic family tree?

Also, I notice it says "Book 1 of the Vulcan University series", are there plans for more? 👀

💙

Thank you so much!!! I know i wish we could gatekeep it here too but it was too good not to share with the world! The real ones will always know where midnight muse came from 💙💙

i could never forget any of you!! and you'll never get rid of me either 😈 hehehe. I love you too!! 🫶🏻

Honestly, it de-acotarizing it wasn't too bad. it was a little grating because i basically had to revise 120k 😭 and my version of revising that was literally retyping the entire thing because im a psycho and can't just fix up paragraphs haha. but the plot did get some work after all of the feedback i received and i thinks its even better than it was!! There's def still some subtle acotar hints tbh (maybe to the point where i'm worried it might be a lil obvious but whatevs) but gotta let em know my roots lol

hmmm finding names was kind of a mix of easy and hard for me. i've always wanted to use the name knox because i really like it as we all know so i went with him bcs i love it. it's slightly a reference to the son i made for him, but if you've read the knox x reader fic there's something that i do want to use his (my?) canon (or is it fanon? no idea) character with a variation of the name (so excited about). but that's for when i attempt writing a fantasy so idk when that will happen, there's much more thought that has to go into that than my lil romance 💙 but yeah we love knoxie in any form 💙

sometimes i do picture the characters when im writing...it's surprisingly mostly cass i think about or slip up when i'm talking about it irl 😂 but they mostly have their own personalities now and i adore them all so much!

I would LOVE to share the other character names!! So we have Quinn (absolutely love this name tbh) and Knox obviously 💙💙💙 Then we have Ace (which would be Rhysand's character in the fanfic), Rory - Quinn's best friend and roommate. Then we have Slate (😂 always cracks me up) for Cassian's character, and Reid for Luciens character. Mandy was Mor but only makes a brief appearance! Those are pretty much the main characters for the series 💙

There are plans for more...hehehe...i might be well into writing the second one as we speak, but the goal is to have four books in this series!

thank you for the questions these were so exciting and fun to talk about 🥰💙

[sebaschian]

Waaaaa!! You had Grell teaching Spears a good lesson! Oh my goodness, that was golden! A part two maybe? Where Knoxie gets fed up with Spears too and get Grell to do the same thing in front of him, bare bottom and the switch? Get him to cry!

Oh should I really do that? I mean it was fun writing Will getting it finally, but... that does seem a little heavy. I may or may not, and if I choose to write it, it’ll be in a separated text. 

[carolasindelar]

My little Knoxie Lion … when did you grow up so big? https://ift.tt/2BY4xwb

[aurelioarmstead]

My little Knoxie Lion … when did you grow up so big? http://bit.ly/2V61068

[kristelblow]

My little Knoxie Lion … when did you grow up so big? http://bit.ly/2UOFVNr

[sherylllown7]

My little Knoxie Lion…when did you get so big?! My little is growing up! #7mon… http://bit.ly/2XDN2tY