#ndu

[cydork]

Lament of the Albatross, a short comic for a Negative Space Comics competition.

I love hearing other people's interpretations, but my intentions are under the cut for anyone interested :)

The original idea was a diagetic comic existing within NDU. The child is an albatross slipshape who was adopted by humans, with neither of them knowing the child's true identity. Humans are portrayed without eyes as the child has trouble relating to humans or reading their faces, while seabirds - both in the painting and real life - do have eyes. The child realises the connection, and joins their brethren to live out at sea.

The transformation is literal, but the imagery is metaphorical; slipshapes don't transform this way, and the birds don't actually speak to the child in their head. I used insect moulting imagery to symbolise them shedding their former life, the nakedness relates to rebirth. I tried to give the scene the vibe of a summoning ritual with the chanting and circling of the birds, because that's how the child felt - drawn and summoned to them, even if they didn't actually call.

There are definitely undertones of being autistic and transgender too, or wanting to escape a bad homelife.

[ashurovha]

Düşüncəli bir tələbəyə rast gəldimm

[lyriumheart]

boring: lavellan is sweet and demure and the halla to solas's wolf uwu he is so smart and they agree with him because he is smart uwu he is their dommy daddy uwu

now that's what im talking about: lavellan stuck their tongue through the anchor right in front of solas after telling him that he's wrong. he wants them so bad it makes him look stupid.

[tracknews1]

Fire Incident At NDU, Management Calls For Calm 🔥

it will be recalled that there was an unfortunate fire incident at the ICT building of the Niger Delta university on Friday 21st December 2024, although the Management of the university is Happy that no life was lost in the inferno, but it affected seriously the infrastructures of the institution. Not a happy moment for the university but management of the prestigious Niger Delta university has…

[gurutrends]

Economic Policies: President Tinubu Behaving Like Civilian Dictator –Former Presidential Candidate, Ndu

The presidential candidate of the defunct African Renaissance Party (ARP), Alhaji Yahaya Ndu, has lambasted President Bola Tinubu for his administration’s policies that have pushed Nigerians into extreme poverty. Ndu, who spoke in an interview with SaharaReporters, labelled President Tinubu as a civilian dictator, warning Nigerians that the only way the country can possibly get out of the…

[gretchensinister]

Daily (Spooky) Fic Highlight: Samhain

"Samhain" is a short fic set in the Nightmare Dork University (NDU) AU, which is a college AU involving several different versions of Pitch and one Jack. This is a collective AU that spawned within the Rise of the Guardians fandom; if you see it mentioned anywhere else, there won’t be continuity among the stories.

Within the fic, I am working with the idea that the human NDU characters have attracted the notice of their inhuman, eldritch/cosmic counterparts, leading to very strange things happening to them. 

Among the various NDU manifestations, sometimes there is a version of Sandy named Ole Lukoje in a relationship with the Proto version of Pitch. They are the predominant ship in this fic, which was written for a Blacksand Halloween event in 2014. Here, the NDU group is getting ready for a party, or at least putting on their costumes. 1207 words, T, M/M.

Sample:

“Ta-da! Say hello to Dr. Doom!” Pitchiner says, stepping out of his bedroom. Neither of the Black twins look over at him. “It looks great,” Jack says quietly, twisting his fluffy fake tail in his hands. “At least someone can spare a glance at me,” Pitchiner says, beaming at Jack. “Turn around, and I’ll pin your tail on.” Pitch scoffs at him, tying Piki’s tie more easily than if he was tying his own in a mirror. This was how they both had learned, after all. “I know what your costume looks like—I know what both your costumes look like. I’m sure they’re the same as they were when I helped you put them together.” He shoves a scarf at Piki. “And the same goes for you.” Piki drapes the scarf around his neck. “I suppose thanks are in order. This doesn’t really feel like a costume at all, and you did arrange for it to be film compliant, unlike your own…”

[ramonantonio]

"It is not the strongest of the species that survives, not the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change." Charles Darwin The image is Plato's cave, representing the fragments of reality and people's desire to live within their reality with no knowledge of the better life they could have. #beautybeastbrains #knowyourworth #knowledgeispower #ndu #thepebblebrains #thepebble #studygram #studentlife #mastersdegree #cantstopwontstop #share #follow #followｍe #superhero #trainharder #veteran #dclife #dccomics #marvel #kylerayner #instagood #supportmilitarymuscle #fitnessmodel #neverquit #learningneverstops https://www.instagram.com/p/CnzR5MpOtxF/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[charseraph]

My rendered sketch for @cydork, see his render here!

[cydork]

My friend @charseraph sketched Gold for me last week or so, and I rendered him :)

Bonus:

[sylphidine]

My giftfic for this year's @rotgsecretsanta

Prompt 51 [Pitch/Pitchiner] NDU verse (masquerade, dancing]

“I’m done. Done. DONE.”  Pitchiner matched deed to word and slammed the cover closed, then shoved his textbook off the bed. The effect was muffled by the book falling onto the rug, rather than clattering on a hard surface.

Pitch looked up from his own studying, seated at the desk in the corner of Pitchiner’s bedroom.  He half-turned the swivel chair so that he could look the athlete in the eye and raise one slim eyebrow at him. “A bit hammy, even for you, don’t you think? And I thought I was supposed to be the melodramatic one here.”

“I can’t soak up another word of this, I swear.”

“Then don’t. You’re the one that always tells me not to overwork, and to take breaks.”

Pitchiner hoisted himself up and crossed the room, taking Pitch’s face in his hands and enjoying how a flush sprang up in the other man’s pale cheeks, just from that little touch.  “I’ve seen what happens when YOU overwork, babe. I’d like to keep you out of the hospital.”

“Likewise, you oaf.” Pitch’s tone was sharp, but he couldn’t stop his lips from curving into a tiny smile. He pulled Pitchiner’s hands away from his jawline. “I’m in a generous mood, so I’ll suffer through a few more episodes of that execrable romance show you were watching last night, if that will distract you.”

“Really?” Pitchiner sounded like an eight-year-old who’d just be promised a trip to an amusement park.  “You’re the best. And listening to you ripping apart ‘historical accuracy’ is half the fun for me.”

“Pleased to be of service.” Pitch led the way to the living room and sat in his usual spot on the couch, while Pitchiner fixed the settings on their digital TV and cued up the next instalment of the Regency-era dramedy.

Midway through the second hour, Pitch’s sarcastic commentary became noticeably sparser. He leaned forward and almost seemed to be committing certain scenes to memory.

“Does genius burn?” quipped Pitchiner.

“Maybe,” murmured Pitch in an absentminded way. “I know I could write circles around these people, but I’m intrigued in spite of myself. Every week there’s a ball or dinner dance, and somehow it’s treated as a novelty each and every time. Were the upper classes that dim, or were they just that bored?”

“I wouldn’t know, dear, not being an upper crust type. That’s more your department.”

“You have a point. Although Mother’s the one with aristocratic blood, not Father. Those two would never have been allowed in the same room, let alone at the same ball. Father would have been denounced as ‘being in trade’, and escorted off the premises.”

“Only if it were at someone’s manor,” argued Pitchiner, warming to the topic. “There were assemblies and masquerades open to the public back then.”

“Really.” The single word came out of Pitch’s mouth in tones much less acidic than his usual delivery.  Pitchiner grinned; not only was he himself less mentally constipated and refreshed enough to go back to studying, he could almost hear the wheels turning in Pitch’s head as he came up with a new idea to be written down.

Although, knowing Pitch, some fictional character was going to suffer horribly.

------------------------------

Once he could feel Pitchiner’s arms loosen around him as the larger man drifted off to sleep, Pitch slipped out of bed and opened up his laptop. He knew that neither the light from the screen, nor the tapping of the keys, would penetrate his bedmate’s slumber, and he needed to chase this idea. After all, he HAD boasted that he could write circles around the creators of the show, and he could not back down from that challenge now.

A few minutes on Google turned up what he needed to absorb for background, and his fingers began to fly over the keyboard.

-------------------------------

The thin man pulled the bulky hooded cloak more tightly around him and adjusted the plague doctor mask he wore. Scowling beneath its protective covering, he stared at the wooden sign suspended from thick chains to hang over the entrance to an exceedingly nondescript building. In extremely plain painted letters, the sign read “PUG’S RETREAT”. 

No foaming tankard of ale. No poorly-executed coat-of-arms. No proprietor’s name or year of establishment. Nothing on the sign to indicate this was a tavern that was supposed to be hosting a public masquerade tonight. Or a private one, for that matter. And there were no windows, no lighted portals, meant to attract a crowd, showing a glimpse of merry-makers.

What kind of public house had no windows?  This was a far cry from the thin man’s usual slumming spot, the Golden Lion on the Fulham Road.

The only clue that the thin man could register was a steady sound of voices mixed with laughter, with a background swell of music [fiddles? An accordion?], seeping out from behind the closed oaken door.

Should he knock? Or should he boldly turn the handle of the door and stride in as though he owned the place? He silently damned his usual drinking partner Sandy for telling him about this masquerade, and then forcing him to go alone by claiming a prior engagement.  The way that Alexander, Lord Mansnoozie would waggle those golden eyebrows of his, combined with muted laughter that shook his round frame, could always make the thin man both enraged and curiously uncomfortable.

But the places where men who craved the… intimate… company of other men. places that WEREN’T down on the docks, and thereby safe for those on foot to avoid attack by cutpurses, were getting fewer and farther between.

The Honourable Pitch Black, born five minutes too late to claim the title of viscount that his elder brother Piki now gloried in, decided that he was going to have to take a chance tonight.

He opened the door and entered Pug’s Retreat.

----------------------

Pitch felt an unexpected twinge of embarrassment at using his own name and Piki’s in this manuscript. “It’s just a placeholder,” he muttered under his breath, as though there was someone reading over his shoulder.

Behind him, Pitchiner snored on. -------------------------

He’d been expecting something dark, shabby, and smoke-encrusted within, judging by the exterior. Pitch was quite pleased to find that he was wrong.

The taproom positively gleamed with fresh brass polish, and the smell of soap was in the air, as though walls and floors had just been scrubbed. The slight young fair-haired man behind the long wooden bar wore a clean apron over an oversized burlap tunic; he was using an immaculate cloth to dry a pint glass held in his delicate hand.

There were a few dedicated drinkers scattered at tables here and there, but the sounds of what Pitch had come for could be heard on the level above. The strains of music, the thumping of dancing feet.  His confidence restored, he nodded to the barman and headed towards the staircase leading to the upper floors and what must be the inn’s assembly rooms.

The crowd that greeted him was a colorful one. A red-clad devil, horns, hooves and all, was dancing with what looked to be a Greek god in clinging robes and golden sandals. A Judge of a court of assizes circled the room arm in arm with a lamplighter. Other people were costumed as a Punch and a Judy, foreign merchants and chimney sweeps, sailors and sultans.

Women danced with women, men danced with men, and groups of conversationalists ringed the walls.

A refreshments table was set up against one wall, and Pitch started to make his way towards the punchbowl before belatedly realizing that his bird-beaked mask would not allow him to eat or drink.

He turned away, disappointed. He must have involuntarily made a disgruntled noise aloud, because an answering chuckle sounded behind him.

“A medical puzzle, Doctor?”

The voice was deep, rich, and smooth, amused but not mocking. Pitch turned back and looked up.

And up.

The speaker was gigantic; if he’d been a horse he would have been more than 20 hands tall. A domino mask did little to disguise a handsome dark-complected face, with strong jawlines , sharply jutting cheekbones, and a prominent nose that looked to have been broken on at least one occasion.  His thick black hair was swept into a crest not unlike a bird of the fabled tropics off the coast of Africa.  He wore a gorgeous coat of red and black with many buttons marching proudly down its front, sashed in at the waist before flaring out into a swirl of material at the back. The collar of the coat stood proudly upright, framing the wearer’s face in feathers. 

The part of Pitch’s brain that devoted itself to fashion was both appreciative and envious.

This was the costume of a pirate. No ordinary pirate, either… a king among pirates.

Pitch said hastily in reply to the other’s query, “Nothing I can’t solve.”

“Good,” the giant said genially. “Well, since you can’t drink until we unmask at midnight, and I’d hate to be rude and drink in front of you, do you fancy a dance?”

“That is what I came here for, after all,” snapped Pitch reflexively, before softening his tone and adding, “Your lead, I presume?”

The other nodded, smiling, and held out a hand.

------------------------

“So I’m the handsome commoner who gets to dance with a lord, huh?”

Pitch made a strangled noise and nearly fell out of his chair. How Pitchiner managed to sneak up on him EVERY TIME, as silent as a jungle cat stalking prey, was always as frustrating as it was startling.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to read over people’s shoulders?” he hissed, more for show than any other reason.

“Yup,” Pitchiner replied with a huge shit-eating grin.  “And my grandmother, and my great-aunt.  Never stopped me, though.”

He scooped Pitch up off the chair and into his arms in a bridal carry. “You can read it out loud to me tomorrow, but right now it’s time for nighty-night.  Good little romance writers need their shuteye.”

“I’m NOT–” Pitch started to squawk, and then thought it better to bow to the inevitable.  He WAS getting tired, and he could refine future scenes when he was better rested.

He was sure Piki had never thought of writing in the Regency period.  If just once he could beat his brother to the punch…

Pitch yawned and let Pitchiner lower him to the bed before pulling the covers back over them both.

His mind’s eye was full of dancing visions in sable and scarlet as he dropped off to sleep.

[lyriumheart]

ok im gonna make my dragon age tag be

#ndu

that is, neo dragonage universe :)

[sasuketruther]

gn

[tracknews1]

Final Year Varsity Student Killed Ovee N150 In Bayelsa

A final year student of the Niger Delta University, identified as Francis Palowei, has been beaten to death over a disagreement involving payment of N150. Track News Online investigation revealed that Palowei was beaten to death by a group of boys at a relaxation sand dump at the university town of Amassoma on Tuesday. Investigation revealed that the student could not pay the N150 which did not…

[retroparkchan]

Samsung yepp mp3 player yp-ndu pet

[sylphmacabre]

Somnos Scherzo

Fandom: Nightmare Dork University, an AU of RISE OF THE GUARDIANS that has become its own subfandom

'Verse - Collegeverse

Characters: NDU Piki Black, NDU Jack Sickle, NDU Pitch Black

Pairings: StageFright [Piki/Jack]

Rating: General

Summary: The sleeping habits of Piki Black, hyperbolic playwright.

Notes: If you are wondering what the devil Nightmare Dork University is, and what it has to do with either the movie RISE OF THE GUARDIANS or the GUARDIANS books by William Joyce, please visit the NDU 101 page on Tumblr and its accompanying tags. It's a wild and woolly ride involving four different versions of Pitch Black and a very different version of Jack Frost, all of whom either room together or "fraternize" in a college / university AU. And let's not forget a taxidermied ferret named Mr. Pickles.

Originally posted on Archive Of Our Own on May 15, 2016.

A clinical observer would note that Piki Black succumbed to sleep in sections.

He did not snore, precisely, but his breathing had a sharp difference between inhale and exhale, a staccato rhythm on the upbeat of air leaving his nostrils which would then fold in upon itself as he more softly took air in.

He would most often lie on his left side while sleeping alone, his left hand tucked under one of his two pillows, his right arm wrapped around himself, his right hand grasping his left shoulder.  Occasionally the right hand could be seen to twitch, opening and closing spasmodically.

Once Piki’s breathing settled into a more even pattern and his arms relaxed, there would usually be some erratic scissoring of his legs, with the occasional backwards rabbit-kick, before he gave in to letting sleep take him entirely.

==================

Jack Sickle liked to sleep on his right side.  Piki had noticed that, the very first time the younger man had stayed over at the apartment of iniquity his brother shared with the brute and the horror.

His Jack, his dear, dear Jack, was worth any sacrifice.

So for years, both before and after Jack moved in with him, Piki ignored the constantly pinched nerve in his arm and the eternally pulled muscles in his neck that were a result of him sleeping curled around Jack, while both slept on their right sides.

His leg movements diminished until they barely happened at all, since Piki seldom now descended into utter relaxation.  How could he, when he had all of earth and heaven too in his embrace each night?

The dark shadows under Piki’s eyes deepened more and more during each year that he and Jack lived together, but he brushed aside Pitch’s concerns about sleep deprivation.

==================

Pitch stayed in Piki’s room on an airbed for a full two weeks following Piki’s breakdown, after Jack left.

Never the deepest sleeper himself, for the first ten nights he watched his tormented brother insist on sleeping on “Jack’s side” of the bed.. on what was, in his opinion, the wrong side.  Pitch observed Piki repeatedly try to mould his body to fill an imaginary hollow, contorted into a space that covered barely a tenth of the surface of the mattress, right on the edge and perilously close to falling on the floor.

On the eleventh night, Pitch awoke to hear Piki shifting restlessly.  Keeping his own counsel, he pretended to be asleep himself until the rustling ceased, and then ventured a look over to the bed.

Piki was lying flat on his back, in the center of the mattress.  Tears were leaking from beneath his closed eyelids, as they generally did every night, but tonight Piki’s breathing was deep and even; he was finally, finally sound asleep, and looked more peaceful than he’d been in ages.

Pitch felt his own eyes fill, briefly.

==================

New bed with a double bookcase headboard, new sheets, new pillows.  

A night-table for each of them, rather than both of them sharing Piki’s.

A new double reading-lamp light fixture for over the bed, with switches on each side within easy, independent reach.

Reading aloud to one another became their nightly ritual.

Some nights they slept back to back, Piki on his left side, Jack on his right.

Sometimes Jack curled around Piki, or let Piki pillow his head on his chest.  

Jack never minded the occasional kick in the shins, since he knew that it meant that Piki was actually on his way to a good night’s sleep.