✎ academia ✐

♡ ix ♡

very important a/n!:

hi my absolute loves! i've been gone for a while NOT because i took a break, but because i'd gone a tad bonkers and decided to overhaul around 90% of the arkoverse in pursuit of something actually legitimately publishable, as opposed to the great self-indulgent fun it's been thus far. i will always cherish those of you who've been here for the last couple years, thank you for sticking by me despite the colossal word vomit that occurred with every published update 🥺 no worries, there will still be the occasional just-for-fun word vomit, but i can't wait to share the real meat of what i've been working on with you!

unfortunately, this means that a lot of the previous works are now non-canonical, particularly The Magic Hunter, Asher & Eliza, and OTIAC. The Unsung will also be going through a makeover—starting with the Blue Tiger book currently up (everything up there will be canonical) and everything here in Academia is set up to be canonical as well! i promise i've kept all the best parts and just adjusted things to be more seamless. this includes a lot of deeper lore to be explored with the Houses and their history, new themes of colonial violence, etc. i really want the arkoverse to mean something beyond YA tropes (that will always remain close to my heart nonetheless) and i feel we are at the beginnings of something even more special.

again, thank you for being here. thank you for your patience. thank you for everything!

love always,
kakie

.    .    .

    Baby wakes with her chest pressed against the stiffest of mattresses. There's dried drool lining the side of her chin, and her arms are tucked at her sides as if bracing for a fall. She doesn't remember what she's just been dreaming of. All she has is fragments of a residual image—sinking quicksand, no solid foothold, Blake taking more vengeful Snapchats from higher ground.

    Baby believes in the magic of dreams, and so this must altogether be symbolic of something familiar. She's once again—frustratingly, irrecoverably—bitten off more than she can chew. Characteristic, sure, but also especially regrettable now.

What a challenge. But Baby's always had a liking for those, academic ones especially—there isn't a Spelling Bee or Science Fair that she hasn't won an award at. Not only does she memorize the letters that make 'pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis'— she's unintentionally employed the word in casual conversation. She's never failed an exam, nor has she ever had a recorded absence (save for that short bout with the last of her magic Fevers, but that doesn't count, of course, because Mama Charmed the teachers herself).

    Point being—Baby Dang is, by all means, a perfect fucking student, and she's not about to relinquish that designation now.

"I'm fine," She tells her brother over video call, feigning bliss once daylight arrives. "The school looks out of this world—I wish you could see it!"

Beck frowns. "Baby, you look like you haven't slept."

"But I have," she fibs. "It's just the jet lag."

Mama takes the phone from Beck, still in her scrubs. She clicks her tongue. "Baby, don't lie."

Can she sense that from this far away? Probably not, but Baby daren't test it. "Sorry, Mama."

"What time is it there?!"

"7 AM."

"And what time did you sleep?"