Snowbaz Oneshots

Worlds Apart and Heart-to-Hearts

As prompted by the ASL class I take, I wanted to incorporate what I am learning into a Snowbaz story! (As per usual :P) I'm obviously not submitting this fic to my teacher, but I still super enjoyed writing it. I am hearing, not Deaf, although I am studying ASL and Deaf culture, as aforementioned. That being said, if anything is incorrect or could've been different, don't hesitate to tell me, please!! I want this to be as respectful and accurate as possible, and I in no way speak for anyone here :)

Read as you see fit here- warnings for general coming-of-age emotions, I suppose, the Mage being a dip, no surprise there, and canon-level swearing.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy! If you have any Snowbaz oneshot ideas, feel free to comment about what I could write! Or comment just to say hi! Have a great day/night!

Bye :)

Baz

1rst Year

I don't like being unused to things.

I mean, who does? I can't say I've known a single human being who's found being thrust into an unsettling new situation, sans instruction manual, to be comforting. My father has repeatedly mentioned that he's not known a single eleven-year-old as prickly with change as I am, though. I might've followed his words and attempted to work on that, had he not declared that he was shipping us off to America.

I don't like America. I don't like America's magick school. I don't like being away from Watford, the school of my mom's that I could've gone to, and I don't like being surrounded by dozens of new people on the daily, all of whom don't speak sign language.

When my mother died, my whole family was worried about my father, especially Fiona. I was young, but old enough to sense the ambivalence in the air as everyone waited for my father to snap.

I think he did when I became Deaf a few years later. Snap, that is. At least that's what Fiona tells me. She doesn't sugarcoat things or beat around the bush. I appreciate it, honestly; it's a blissful reprise from the mannerisms of essentially everyone else in my family- even Dev. They all hide stuff.

Most of them tagged along when we migrated to the states like a ridiculous flock of penguins. My father managed to sway Daphne, my three sisters, Dev, who'll be going to the same boarding school as me, and even Fiona. She put up a fight for quite a bit- growling about how she wouldn't be the first Pitch to follow a Grimm to the states, and all that- but she eventually caved under all the "this is what's best for Basilton"s my father was laying on thick.

That's another thing he's been saying lots recently.

Not that I have any say in what's best for Basilton, of course. I don't like America. I don't like being unused to things.

And, currently, I'm not too keen on my father, either.

When he drops me off at the front gates for my first day at what I've dubbed Maryland's Watford, though, I still give him a hug before I leave. My grudges don't extend that far, at least at the moment.

As all the kids are guided into getting situated, I make sure to keep close to Dev, who luckily looks nervous enough himself to tolerate my clinginess.

The large building's steps are tan and dotted with sediment, looking freshly polished. The building itself is a four or five story, also a bronze-tan brick. If I crane my neck, I can see that the sprawling space spanning behind the school has loads of other landmarks. I think I can make out multiple rooming houses, a basketball/tennis court, (No football pitch, I note with disdain), and a couple nature-y spots, plus other things more in the distance.