#nygmobblepot college au

[thecatboyfriend]

also here they r side by side!! the heights arent perfect but eds 6’1” and oz is 5’6”!

[viscerax]

Gotham college au where ed and oz are both professors and have to deal with "these little shits" (the students) 24/7 and also their students can tell they're pining for each other before either of them know it

[a-library-of-old]

Yall I'm cookin again

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It's college au this time yall

[arcanemoody]

Sunday Six

Oswald can’t wait to get linens for a full-size mattress, which given the current state of their combined budget, will be after the next financial aid disbursement in January. Until then, he drags their tatami mattress down the hall, ignoring the ache in his knee and letting it collapse unceremoniously in the middle of the floor.

“Don’t everyone rush to help at once!” he comments to the nearly empty room.

“Brucie’s helping,” Zsasz offers from the doorway.

“Bruce is helping Ed downstairs.”

 “And he’s doing a great job.” Victor ripostes, turning his head when Oswald lodges a roll of packing tape at it

[rat-shark]

Saw a lot of people drawing their own college/high school AUs, so I decided to jump in on the trend, lol

I’ll draw him an Ed soon, I swear

I imagine he’s in his early 20s and basically just trying to survive

his life involves a lot of stealing, shit jobs (not always legal) and fighting

also, sidenote, I’m never drawing shoes like these again (they’re supposed to be pike buckle boots but finding a good reference was nearly impossible for me, so they look like shit)

[tameila]

Was kindly tagged by @belphegor1982 to participate in this 20 questions for writers trend! thanks for the tag! 💕 tags for anyone who sees this and wants to take a whack at it. tag me in your responses, if you do!

How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 10 works on ao3 with plenty of little one-shots posted here on tumblr and at least triple that many WIPs lmao

What's your total AO3 word count?

My current ao3 word count is 165,375 words. TSAR is responsible for, like, 70% of that word count.

What fandoms do you write for?

On ao3, I've only posted for Critical Role, and I do not foresee that changing, but who knows! Before Critical Role, I never really saw myself as a writer that posted on public forums, and it's not as if I haven't entertained and dabbled in other fandoms.

Overall, including collaborative writing/roleplaying, I have written for Warriors (yes, the cat books), Bleach, Naruto, Hetalia (im sorry you have to learn this about me), Glee, Dragon Age, and Digimon.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Sun Always Rises (550 kudos), multichaptered modern AU Pikelan

give my regards to soul and romance (186 kudos), one-shot based in @jabletown's rejoice AU, Pikelan with Dadlan and Pike & Kaylie bonding

le petit encore (145 kudos), my mediocre TSAR 'verse smut fic. every time it gets another kudos i am pushed closer and closer to continuing my smut WIPs because i swear!! i promise!! i can write better smut!...but i am rather proud of this piece because it was my first serious foray into the world of smut and i gotta recognize my own hustle lol

As Easy as Riding a Bicycle (113 kudos), modern AU/college-aged Pikelan, Pike's bike gets stolen and she turns to a dating app to try and find it and finds love instead. super love this piece. everyone should read it and give it more kudos so it can be my third most kudo'd piece teehee

TLC is a Two-Way Street (104 kudos), TSAR 'verse, Pikelan, Pike looks after Scanlan while he is sick

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, yes, yes! Even as I free myself from the shackles of needing that validation and feeling discouraged if I don't reach some arbitrary number of engagement, I cannot deny that comments are inspiration and writing fuel. So, when I get a comment, I think it's the least that I can do to respond, even if it's just to say thanks.

I am definitely guilty of sitting on comments that make me particularly happy for weeks on end before actually remembering to respond tho

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

the things we know and the things we wish they knew, which was my first CR fanfic and written in response to ep 85 iykyk

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mean, it's gotta be The Sun Always Rises

Do you get hate on fics?

No, thankfully not!

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

As mentioned previously, I only really have one serious smut fic, though I have written a couple other bits and bobs....and maybe I have a couple WIPs that may or may not see the light of day. I'm not sure what kinds of smut there are...but I guess I would describe my approach to smut as 'I am a sex-repulsed asexual and idk what's really going on here but I'm here to express closeness and intimacy and love in this strange new world' lol

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

If we're talking crossovers in the sense that characters from two separate fictional stories meet and interact, I have written in roleplays back in middle school like that but never explored the concept in fanfic.

If crossovers also includes taking the concept of one fictional media and inserting the characters of another into it (e.g., Hogwarts AU or HDM AU) then I've definitely written and have plans for various fanfics like that. I don't think that I have any that I would consider "crazy", but I do think my brief notes and writings for a OTGW-inspired Nygmobblepot/Riddlebird fic were v inspired.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of and hopefully not! Very little gets posted in the Pikelan fandom that I don't see, so I like to think I'd be hard to pull a fast one on

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet, but I would love to see The Sun Always Rises translated into other languages someday!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I've entertained a couple co-written fics that have unfortunately never gotten off the ground much, but I'm not closed off to the idea. I see it as being quite similar to roleplaying!

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Oof. As a lifetime shipper, that's a tough question. I never truly let go of a ship, even after I've moved on from a fandom, but there are definitely some that are far more enduring in my heart than others.

Of course, if we're going off of writing alone than it's Pikelan. Writing TSAR got me through some of the hardest years of my life and, despite what's become of them and what I'm forced to endure by continuing to engage in the fandom space, they're special to me in a way that a lot of other ships can never be, no matter how much I love 'em.

Also, in the case of writing, FenHawke. selfishly, of course, Fenris with my Hawke. I love writing for them, and I consider the pieces that I've written for them to be amongst my best. They're the Dragon Age ship for me.

What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

.....[shamefully hangs head] A-Side and B-Side, the sequels to TSAR. I'm gonna keep writing them for as long as I am able but, if there ever comes a day that I post an update and get zero engagement, then I think I'll just have to move on. but! if even one person keeps coming along for the ride, then I'll stick to 'em. I just don't know if there's anyone who loves my writing enough to stick around for, like, another 5 years lol

The other big one is Vex's Delivery Service...which is exactly what it sounds like. A Kiki's Delivery Service inspired AU but it's about Vex. though truly, it's a thinly veiled excuse to write about domestic Pikelan is what it is. I have the whole thing planned out. I just can't ever seem to get it off the ground and, at this point, with the way I'm halfway out of the CR fandom, I don't think I ever will.

What are your writing strengths?

I have been extremely lucky to have been complimented on multiple facets of my writing over the years. However, I think what I pride in myself the most is my ability to let each scene breathe and take its time. It means that I take forever to write and nothing's ever short, but I don't think I would like writing quite as much if I wasn't allowed to let each moment have its breathing space.

What are your writing weaknesses?

It's a bit of an oddball pick maybe, but it's something that I feel like I have to own up to as a notorious modern AU writer:

People say that modern AUs are uninspired and boring, especially when you're taking characters out of a magical fictional world just to put them into our world and....the rumor's are true. I just don't get that into the lore of a fictional universe to ever feel comfortable writing in it. I do just find it easier to write everyone as humans in a modern-esque society. Now, I will stand by the fact that part of the fun of modern AUs is taking these magical characters and interpreting into a modern space (I often do the opposite with modern era characters into a fantasy world of my own design), but I just want to fully own up to the fact that...yes, I am too lazy to research the intricacies of canon in order to write a proper canon compliant/adjacent fic.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think it has it's place.

For me, if it's a language that the POV character understands/that the reader should understand alongside the POV character, then there's no reason to write it in that language. Simply include a dialogue tag to explain what language the character was speaking in. and I say this mostly from a logistical/ease of reading standpoint. Having to scroll down to the bottom of a fic or switch to a separate tab with the translations interrupts the flow of reading.

If, however, the language is included, untranslated, to reflect the POV character's own lack of knowledge of the language then that makes more sense. because you, as the reader, are meant to keep reading at the same level of understanding as the POV character and there's no pressure to be rushing for a translation just to make sure you're not missing an important line of dialogue.

but of course, as with most things, it's writer's choice!

First fandom you wrote for?

Warriors, probably...maybe Hamtaro. I definitely read fanfic for it and had my little daydream musings, but I don't think I wrote anything down.

Favorite fic you've ever written?

Oooh, we talkin' fic fic? That's long gone, and it's up in the air which of those many early fandoms that it was for.

If we're talking that's readily available on ao3, then my first was the things we know and the things we wish they knew. though, I was writing and posting Dragon Age one-shots on tumblr before that one.

Coming back because, for some reason, I misread this question as what was the first fic I'd ever written lol. Obviously, the answer to favorite is The Sun Always Rises.

[chierei]

For the WIP tag game, I'm curious about Ghost AU or Sugar Baby Deku!

♥️♥️ I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to writing these but:

Ghost AU was going to be a Nygmobblepot fic—AU but basically Ed moves into a haunted mansion because it was super cheap and he doesn’t believe in ghosts. Oswald is a ghost who has been quite violently kicking people out of his mansion for decades and 100% plans to do the same to Ed until he sees Ed burying some bodies out back. They fall in love and murder lots of people.

Sugar Baby Deku was gonna be an AU in that Midoriya never receives AFO and doesn’t get into UA. And quirkless have shitty job prospects so even though he goes to a good college and shit, he has a hard time keeping a job cause of discrimination. So he finds out through various forums that sex works is a pretty reliable and lucrative form of income for someone who is quirkless and it turns out a lot of people with mutant quirks or other mundane quirks really like him rambling about their quirk. Basically he becomes a super high end escort/sugar baby because he’s a big old nerd. (This was my need for a sex worker AU in ever damn fandom I join.)

[thedeevirus]

Moodboard for Nygmobblepot Fic: ‘Part of His World’

AU College Roommates Oswald and Edward visit Gotham Aquarium together. Oswald is practicing for a big performance in 'The Little Mermaid'. Only problem is he's never kissed anyone before. And Ed has something important to confess to him...

Many thanks to @witchunters for the advice and links :) (Hopefully this one has turned out a little better!)

First one of the moodboards I am creating for my oneshot fics (and my second attempt at a moodboard in general)

Link to fic is above, just click on the title!

[glittter-skeleton]

Highschool AU for my soft soft brain

[cupcakefoggy]

“Pretty People,” a Riddlebird college AU fic

At his first college formal, junior poli-sci major Oswald Cobblepot sits alone in a corner by the refreshment table, watching in envy and longing as his attractive friends all pair off and find love. He's used to being the third wheel, but tonight it hurts even more, because tonight he so badly hoped for a miracle...but what he doesn't know is that a pretty boy in a glittery green suit has an eye on him, and Oswald is about to get the happily-ever-after he's always wanted.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28802547

[sirunicorn-art]

uwu

[thecatboyfriend]

second sheet finally done!! our beloved oswald cobblepot <333 shes lovely i think

reblogs appreciated!! close ups under the cut <3

[viscerax]

The smell of coffee always grounded Edward. Maybe thats why he found so much comfort in the local cafè, not to far from his dingy apartment. He had a morning class in about an hour, at the university, 20 minutes down the street. He was taking his time today. Something had offset him, making every little thing irritate him and dig under his skin. Today, though, he decided he would ride the overstimulation out, at his own pace. It was far better than shutting down in the middle of class

Edward grasped the warm cup in his hands. The heat was a other sensation that grounded him. He stared down at the table, (which surprisingly wasn't sticky like most tables in the cafè), a pair of earbuds plugged into the phone that sat on the desk, some playlist of classical music flowing through the wires and into his ears.

His cold gaze was broken when the vibrations of someone's voice somehow broke their way through the classical piano. He looked up to see a welcome face, Oswald, or professionally known as Mr. Cobblepot.

Oswald tilted his head at Edward, ever so slightly, words flowing from his mouth, although Edward never heard them.

Finally, Oswald nodded, a curt nod, and got up, walking over to the barista. He soon returned with a pen and a napkin. He scribbled down quick words, turning the napkin so that Edward could read it.

"Are you OK?"

It was a simple question, it should have regarded a simple answer. Edward, however, couldn't muster up the words to describe what he was. So instead, he just nodded. Far easier then explaining how he felt.

Except Oswald knew him. He could read him like an open book. He was basically a human lie detector. And Edward wasn't exactly the best liar. At least not in this state.

Oswald was one of the few people who knew about Edward's "meltdowns." Edward had told him in confidence, and even gave him firm instructions on what to do if he had encountered him in such a state.

Oswald got up from the seat that was across from Edward, and made his way around the table. Edward turned his body away from the table a bit, watching him paitently. And then suddenly Oswald was pressed against him. Tight. Firm. It grounded Edward. He felt more present.

"What do you smell?" Oswald hummed, his voice now being distinguishable to Edward, as one of his earbuds had fallen out.

"Coffee... vanilla creamer... you." He let out a deep breath. "You smell of cologne. The good kind. I like it." There were certain scents that grounded Edward, much like coffee did. It turned out, whatever cologne Oswald was wearing had the same effect.

Soon, Edward was calm, stable, ready for whatever Gotham had to throw at him next. He had Oswald to thank for that, he supposed.

Oswald walked Edward to his class, and before they departed, he whispered a quick "I'm here. If you need me" before Oswald quickly scurried off to his own classroom.

He supposed having Oswald around wasn't terrible.

[mayor-crumblepot]

for the song thing, right on track by the griswolds + nygmobblepot?

this song gave me a really good hype vibe (despite perhaps the lyrics not being quite the same) so i just kinda Rode That Wave and i’m sorry if it wasn’t what you were expecting. 

nondescript young adults au, filled with a crushing sense of self-insecurity and maybe a problem with drinking. definitely a problem with drinking. what kind of Blitz Fic would it be if it didn’t include budding alcoholism?

Oswald has no idea how this has become a routine. Routines are things like haircuts, like the route he takes to work, like the meal schedule he’s been trying to stick to; it’s not waking up next to the same person after every party he goes to. 

He doesn’t even know their name. 

It never seems like they’ve done much of anything. At worst, one of them has done away with their shirts and Oswald’s makeup is smeared, but aside from the headache he always has, things never seem wrong. That just leaves Oswald confused, because he’s spent his entire life afraid, mortified of what kind of mistakes he could make if he weren’t paying attention— and here he is, just fine. 

Every time, he tells himself it’s the last time. As he stumbles away, through the halls of a house he doesn’t know, he promises himself that he’s just going to start getting drunk in his apartment like every other pathetic freak his age. But then Barbara invites him out, and he looks back at the bottle of wine he’s been letting breathe on his counter; it reminds him how little he wants to be alone, reminds him of his dwindling youth and how few people he really knows. 

This is the third time this month. It’s a weekly thing— parties on Friday nights, wake up midday Saturday, nurse a hangover until his Saturday night shift, tell himself it will never happen again, and then start all over again next Friday night. 

(Is it a routine, now? Fuck.)

Usually, the other person is still asleep when Oswald wakes up. It’s all a side effect of his natural internal clock, pushing him out of sleep before noon every single day. It gives Oswald the chance to look at the other person, to consider glasses on the bedside, to wonder just what kind of person wears slacks and a sweater to a house party. Sometimes, next to the glasses, there’s a wallet on the nightstand, and Oswald has to remind himself that it’s an invasion of privacy to leaf through it— this leaves him clueless. 

Glasses and a sweater is awake before Oswald, this time. Except the sweater is distinctly missing, and somewhere in Oswald’s foggy mind, he remembers it being lost downstairs, outside— maybe the pool? Christ, did they get in the pool?

His clothes feel dry. Maybe they didn’t. 

The other person is talking. Quietly, albeit, but they’re talking and Oswald is fairly certain it isn’t that obvious he’s awake yet. There’s a clock on the wall, one that Oswald can barely see from his place on the bed— it’s clear enough to him, in addition to the faint sunlight coming through shitty blinds, that it’s too fucking early. They couldn’t have gone to sleep more than a few hours ago, if that. 

“Go back to sleep,” Oswald says, horrified by the state of his own voice, “neither of us are sober yet.” 

“I—” When the other person looks back at Oswald, it’s charming how they can’t decide where they want their eyes to settle, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“You can make up for it by lying back down,” he gestures vaguely at the bed, but gives up halfway through because his arms feel like they’re full of water, “just looking at you sitting up is giving me the spins.” 

“Sorry,” but they do lie down, quickly putting a hand on their forehead and rubbing at their temples. Oswald drops a hand over their waist and falls back asleep before he can even think about what he should do with the rest of his limbs. 

The worst thing Oswald has ever done is offer to work the morning shift. Evenings at the cafe are much calmer, much more food orders than coffee. Oswald has never been particularly good at making coffee. The end product is fine, it’s acceptable, but his hands pay the price and end up scalded. It does nothing to improve his mood, either. 

He comes into a shift in the middle of a rush, getting tagged onto a cash register without as much as a greeting. People disappear from the front end while the stream of customers is never-ending, and Oswald finds himself making drinks as another team member screams them at him. Awful. It’s just fucking awful. 

“I have a quad for—” there are two cups in Oswald’s hands, one unfinished and the other completed, and he ends up putting both down on the counter, “Edward!” He turns back around, rinsing cups and tumblers, unable to find the unfinished drink he’d set down. 

“Excuse me,” the voice is coming from the pickup counter, and Oswald almost wants to tell the person to fuck off, because he’s missing a drink, “you left something here.” 

Where Oswald turns back for a half-finished slowly melting frozen drink, he ends up face to face with his weekend bedmate. The alarms in his brain scream stalker until his eyes register just how much panic is written across this person’s face— across Edward’s face. “Hey, you,” he says, making an attempt at charm despite the splatter across his apron and the slowly growing burns on his hands. Edward lasts for less than ten seconds, before he bolts from the cafe as though he’s been threatened. 

That’s that.

“What if I scared him off?” Edward asks, speaking to his roommate who couldn’t possibly care less, “What if he thinks I’m stalking him?”

“You did, kind of,” the roommate, Jonathan, doesn’t bother taking his eyes away from his live feed of his lab rats, “stalk him, I mean.”

“I didn’t! I looked at his ID once,” he defends, voice screechy. “He hasn’t been to any of the parties his friend has been at,” dramatically, Edward drops into their couch and groans, “he’s hiding from me.”

“He doesn’t know you from Adam’s housecat,” the rats run around on a wheel, and Jonathan scribbles something down quickly, “he can’t hide from you if he doesn’t know you. Maybe he’s sick.”

“He probably thinks I’m a creep.” Edward nears inconsolability, and while this doesn’t bother Jonathan, it makes him wonder. It confuses him, confounds him, even, how someone could get so attached while not even knowing a single thing about them. 

“You know when he works,” Jonathan says, finally turning around in his chair, “you could just go see him, or something. Apologize for running off.” 

“What if he doesn’t like me?” There’s a look that Jonathan gives Edward, one of clear unawareness, “We’ve never— we’re always— What if he doesn’t like me when we’re not drunk?”

“Ain’t sure why you’d wanna be around him at all, then.” 

When his manager finally gives him back his evening shifts, Oswald is elated. He takes back his normal sleep schedule, the blisters on his hands start to finally heal, and he can follow Barbara to parties once again. The entire spectacle with Edward at the cafe has migrated to the back of his mind, as if it were nothing but a mysterious dream that he provided himself. Sometimes, that’s what Oswald elects to believe— to think that he’s so different by the light of day, that without the drunken slur on his voice he doesn’t sound as inviting, that’s more difficult. 

So, he follows Barbara into someone else’s party, pounds a few shots, and finds a comfortable place for himself by the stairwell. He pretends that he can’t smell the weed people are smoking on the back porch, and he tries to manage his expression of distaste when he takes sips of his lukewarm wine cooler. 

“We can’t keep meeting like this,” he hears, Edward’s voice coming in before the boy invades his vision. 

“Can’t we?” It’s hard to tell which of them is more intoxicated, but Oswald figures it’s only a matter of time before he becomes too drunk to remember much else. It’s easy to get there, with Edward around. “Can I call you Ed?” 

Edward nods, facial expression somewhere between mortified and overjoyed. What a painful dichotomy. “I’m sorry for running out on you,” he says quickly, having to stand closely to Oswald to be heard, “at your work, I mean. I just—”

“You panicked,” Oswald supplies, shrugging calmly, as if the entire experience didn’t leave him mortified and chain-smoking on his lunch break, “it happens.”

“Very often, to me.” 

“Really?” 

“I—” After a bit of internal deliberation, Edward reaches out and takes one of Oswald’s hands, placing it against the side of his neck, where his pulse is hammering through his veins frantically, “I’m a very nervous person.” He can see it, in his mind’s eye, where Oswald realizes that his confidence was all an act, a front put on by the strength of the alcohol in his system. Instead, Oswald curls his fingers around the back of Edward’s neck and brings him down, kissing his cheek.

“It’s cute,” he says, smiling. The harsh curve of Edward’s smile says you won’t think so for long, you’ll get irritated, and Oswald becomes determined to prove him wrong, “I’m working closing shift, now. It gets real slow, you ought to come visit me.”

“If I’m being completely honest,” there’s a warmth in Edward’s eyes, something pathetically sweet trying to make it’s way out, “the coffee you made me was terrible.” 

Oswald knocks back the rest of his drink, leaving the empty container on the nearest flat surface, “It was full of grounds, wasn’t it? Some woman brought hers back and dumped it on the counter,” just the sound of Oswald laughing makes Edward laugh, too, “just to make a point. The nerve of some people.” 

It’s hard for Edward to grapple with, the concept that Oswald is enjoying a conversation with him, one where both of them are sober enough to keep upright on their own. He had planned for most possible outcomes, but this one just seemed so unlikely that he’d avoided it altogether; not to get his hopes up. Yet, here he is, painfully close and only getting closer— it doesn’t even seem like Oswald wants him to go anywhere. 

That’s nice. 

When they wake up the next morning, Oswald can’t remember much of what happened after his third wine cooler. In addition to the shots and whatever Barbara’s girlfriend du jour brought with her when she arrived, Oswald can’t even wager a guess at what he’s had to drink in the last twelve hours. 

The midday sun upsets his eyes, and he quickly hides his face in the curve of Edward’s neck. Edward. He’s still there, that’s good. 

“Did you know you snore?” Edward asks, hesitantly running his fingers along the curve of Oswald’s back. “It’s surprisingly charming.” 

“Did you know you twitch in your sleep?” Oswald bites back, dropping his arm heavily over Edward’s chest, “It’s not that charming. That’s alright, though, because you’re handsome.” 

Edward snorts, looking up at the ceiling vacantly. Without his glasses, there’s not much for him to see, and staring at Oswald seems like it might be rude. 

“Is it too late to get breakfast?” With a painful series of sounds from his protesting bones, Oswald sits upright and fishes around the side table for his phone. 

“Definitely too late for breakfast,” Edward makes an effort to try and calculate the time of day from the angle of the sunlight coming in the window, but it ultimately becomes far more difficult than it’s worth, “It’s never too late to get pancakes somewhere, though.” 

“Did you drive?” When Edward nods, gesturing vaguely at where his keys are, next to his wallet, Oswald reaches for his backpack. “We can call this a first date, if you want.” 

The words settle into Edward’s skin, searing themselves into his soft underbelly and making their way up to his heart, “I’d like that.” 

[arcanemoody]

Sunday Six

He wants to see if he can keep Ed hard for the full 90 minutes of the movie. To see if he can get him to hold his hand as they walk all the way back to the dorm, a stiff hard-on perfectly outlined by his cords.

Once upon a time, Oswald had stumbled into this talent by accident; his own inexperience with how cis dudes jerked off bleeding into those first tentative efforts with men. He got an early reputation as a “tease.” Or a sadist — an alley cat who liked to play with his prey, bringing them to agony before going in for the kill. Ed mewls quietly against his shoulder and he can almost believe it was true all along.

[akeetaroo-blog]

So, I've decided to make a little college au with Nigmobblepot because of “Days” song by David Bowie (yeah, and again I've found good song for my otp). 

И, если шо, товарищи, у меня есть группка в вк: vk.com/akeetaroo