#jacksicle

[sylphidine]

Psyching myself back into my NDU StageFright headspace with @mira-eyeteeth's glorious soundtrack.  I had to put them aside for a few months FOR REASONS, but I'm better now.

[hezuart]

I kept looking at a lot of Nightmare Galleon / Nightmare Dork University fics and drawings and I decided to jump into the wagon and draw some sketches to contribute.... 

and hey what do you guys think of an older!Jacksicle thrown in there too? 

Nightmare dork university more like smol, shy, easily traumatized boy and his 4 or 5 creepy body guards 

@wardrobe-after-dark

[mira-eyeteeth]

“I wish you would write a fic where…” NDU Pitch and Jack are having a really good day, while everyone else are having a bad one for some reason (Pitchiner has a bad day of practice, Piki has writer's block, Proto sets fire to himself or something, stuff like that)

Pitch was having a glorious day. His idiot brother had squeaked and fallen into the orchestra pit after seeing Pitch helping Jack into his costume for the dress rehearsal (he might have done that in Piki’s line of sight on purpose; he hadn’t the faintest idea why his twin thought he was being subtle with his stalking). He’d even scurried off red-faced, before Jack had gone to identify just what that awful clatter had been, and left Pitch in peace. Well, as much peace as he could be while surrounded by idiots. At least Jack was decent. He’d finally coaxed the boy into a more important role and watching his talent grow and flourish was a treat.

It was a bit bizarre, though, seeing the pale young man go from being someone brash and upright to hunching his shoulders and making himself small the moment he dropped character. Still, so long as he managed to keep it up while the curtain was still raised, he couldn’t complain. “Nice work.” 

Jack’s smile, tentative and rare though it was, was bright. “Th-thanks. It was fun,” he murmured, glancing down.

“Pitchiner will want to hear about it, care to swing by the flat before I drop you off at your dorm?” Pitch asked, twirling his car keys around his finger.

“Sure.”

Pitch climbed up the steps to the front door and fussed with his keychain to find the right one in the bundle. Having all the theatre keys and his personal ones on the same chain was maybe not the best idea, he mused, continuing his story. “And then the professor-”

“OH MY GOD IT’S EVERYWHERE,” A panicked exclaimation cut him off.

“Hm. I admit, that did not go according to plan. Do you know where we keep the fire extinguisher?”

“PROTO IF WE DON’T DIE I AM GOING TO KILL YOU”

Pitch paused, then slowly put the door keys back into his pocket. He looked over at Jack. “Are you feeling like having some ice cream? I think I’m feeling like ice cream.”

The pale young man flinched at a shattering crash from inside the flat and a screech that could have been twisting metal or a very displeased creature. “Y-yeah. The dairy queen down the street?”

“Hmm, I was thinking more along the lines of that Baskin Robins downtown...” Pitch replied, turning on his heel and steering Jack back towards the car.

[mira-eyeteeth]

Winter Activities

Yay, time for some Jack and Pitchiner interaction!

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

It was wintertime and Pitchiner was just about to go stir-crazy. Lacrosse season was over, the gym at the university was closed down for renovations, and Pitch was being uncooperative with Pitchiner's attempts to work off his pent-up energy in a productive fashion. Something about a term paper he had to work on and how he would appreciate it if Pitchiner would “stop pawing at me for a few bloody hours, you horny Neanderthal."

But Pitchiner felt like he was about to explode if he didn’t do something. So he’d called up Jack and told him to meet him down at the Student Center on campus in a half hour, he had a plan.

He’d only found out that Proto had somehow tagged along when he’d gone into the building, turned around to look for Jack, and came face-to-face with the bastard. Biting back an undignified yelp of surprise, Pitchiner took several steps backwards, until Proto was no longer in his personal space. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded sharply.

Proto blinked and smiled. “Following you. Maybe you’re not the only one with cabin fever this winter…”

“I didn’t invite y-” Pitchiner started to growl out, but Proto ignored him in favour of turning his head and staring off over the athlete’s shoulder.

“Hello, Jack,” he said.

Pitchiner reluctantly turned his back on Proto to see Jack approaching from one of the side entrances of the Center. Snow dusted the shoulders of his puffy blue ski jacket and his cheeks were flushed from the cold.

“Hi, P-Proto. Pitchiner. You wanted to see me?” Jack asked.

“Yeah. I figured we could use a break. Get some exercise, take our minds off of school for a bit. There’s a rink right down the street. We’re going skating!” Pitchiner proclaimed with a grin.

Jack froze, eyes widening. “N-no...” he stammered as the colour drained from his already pale face.

“Aw, don’t be like that, kid! It’s fun! I can teach you how to do it; I’m sure you’ll be a quick study!” Pitchiner replied dismissively, grabbing Jack by the wrist and starting to tug him off.

“I SAID NO!” Jack yelled, wrenching his arm out of Pitchiner’s grip. He clutched hands to his chest, curling in on himself. His chest heaved with intaken breaths.

Pitchiner stared at Jack for a long moment, stunned. He’d never heard Jack make a sound louder than normal indoor conversation levels, and even that was rare. Finally he managed to gather himself enough to look down and rub the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… uh… I’m sorry, kid. You don’t hafta come. I didn’t mean…” He shrugged helplessly, at a loss for words at this new reaction. “I’ll just… go on my own, then.”

Jack jerked and suddenly threw himself forward, wrapping both of his arms around one of Pitchiner’s and clutching tightly. “No! No, don’t go! Don’t!”

“Jack, what?” Pitchiner blurted out, blinking rapidly in surprise. He tried to shift his captured arm, but the kid only tightened his grip.

“Don’t go. Please. Promise me.” Jack buried his face in Pitchiner’s sleeve. “Promise me,” he whispered again, shaking like a leaf.

“Uh... Yeah, sure. I promise, Jack. No skating. Alright?” Pitchiner relented, still confused.

Jack held on a moment longer, then finally sniffed. “…alright,” he said quietly, pulling back. He seemed to let go of Pitchiner’s arm reluctantly, as if he was afraid the athlete was going to dart off.

Pitchiner frowned. “Jack, w-” The absolutely stricken expression on the kid’s face when he looked up at Pitchiner stopped the questions dead in their tracks. He swallowed. “Wanna get a hot chocolate?” he said instead.

Jack managed a tiny, watery smile. “Yeah, t-that sounds good.”

The three of them went to the center’s coffee shop and settled into a booth, Proto being conspicuously silent through the entire affair. Pitchiner got himself and Jack large mugs of hot chocolate; Proto produced a thermos from somewhere and poured himself some kind of dark liquid that had a bizarrely blue-tinged steam rising from it. Pitchiner didn’t even want to know. Instead, he started into a story about how Tarminator and Purradox had chased each other around the apartment the other day and managed to knock over two lamps and the coffee pot.

Slowly, Jack stopped shaking.

After a short while, Jack quietly excused himself to visit the restroom. Only then did Proto pipe up.

“I’m curious, why would you ever suggest skating around Jack?” he asked, sipping whatever substance was in his mug.

Pitchiner scowled. “How was I supposed to know about… whatever it is?”

Proto cocked his head to one side. “Oh my, you really don’t know? I thought it was obvious, what with the way Jack acts, and how he reacts to winter.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Hmn. Apparently I gave you more credit than I should have.” Proto shrugged. “And it’s really not my business to tell you anything, if you’re unable to work it out for yourself.”

Pitchiner growled and probably would have taken a swing at the bastard if Jack hadn’t taken that moment to return to the booth. Pitchiner let out a long breath and decided that this wouldn’t be the last Proto would hear about this. But there was no reason to upset Jack further right now.

[mira-eyeteeth]

Hello fellow Nightvaler (I assume)! I apologize for the time this took. Here is the NDU version of your request, I may also (eventually) write something for AHFF.

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A radio play. A radio play assignment, of all things. Yes, because clearly this course wasn’t teaching enough outdated and unhelpful things. And he couldn’t even do an independent broadcast, no, he had to work with other people. Like this crew of dolts didn’t have enough problems portraying believable emotions when the audience could actually see their body language and facial expressions as well as hearing them. How on earth was he supposed to get through this?

Pitch sighed and rubbed his temples, trying to run through his mental list of least-objectionable people. There was a tentative tug on his sleeve, more of a fleeting and feather-light touch, really, but it got his attention anyway.  He opened his eyes to find that Jack had sidled up next to him at some point during his mental ranting. Ah, that was right, the freshman had gotten into this class as well, hadn’t he? It was almost embarrassingly easy to forget the kid’s existence at times…

“U-um, I was wondering if… I mean, if you w-wanted…” he mumbled with downcast eyes and hands clasped nervously to his chest. He blew out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping. “No, nevermind… Sorry.”

“No, no, working with you would be fine, Jack,” Pitch said hurriedly.

“R-really?”

Pitch inclined his head. “Yes, of course. In fact, I don’t think there’s anyone I’d rather work with in this class,” he reassured and surprisingly, he found that he meant it. Jack did have talent, and the main issue the boy had was an absolutely paralyzing fear of the audience. Maybe when he was alone in a radio booth, he’d be able to shine. It would be interesting to see if he could draw out some of that frustratingly buried potential. And if he pulled this off right, he would be able to gloat to Piki about his success with his twin’s latest little fascination. We’ll see just who’s the better director of the two of us, he thought with a smirk.

Meanwhile, Jack had turned bright scarlet and was mumbling some other things that Pitch really didn’t care to try to decipher, probably something self-depreciating. Instead he laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder and drew him away from the gabbling of the rest of the idiots and to a quiet corner of the classroom. “So we have a team now. Next thing is to figure out just what sketch we’ll be doing.” He drummed his fingers on a desktop. He supposed it would be best to do a scene Jack would be comfortable with. Put him at ease. “Any preferences?”

“W-well, Abbott and Costello have some good dialogues for two people…” Jack whispered. “Ah, but we sh-should do whatever you want to do, Pitch.”

Pitch paused and bit his tongue to keep from saying something unflattering about comedy routines. No, no, he had to play up Jack’s confidence, and dismissing his suggestion would just send the boy into further unhappiness with himself. He managed a magnanimous smile. “Abbott and Costello sounds fine.”

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

They’d ended up adapting Who’s On First. Hardly a deep and thought-provoking piece of literature, but it would get the job done, Pitch supposed. Even if he did have to play Costello...

At least the rehearsals went well, Jack stopped cringing at Pitch’s escalating (acted) frustration after only six run-throughs of the script. Finally, the big night arrived, where the volunteers running the university radio station cleared out to let the drama class perform their skits.

The both of them headed into the booth at their turn, putting on the headsets and getting settled. Pitch flicked the switch and the red on-air light flickered to life.

“Great day for a ball game, isn’t it, Abbott?” he asked brightly.

Jack’s eyes were fixed on the light like it was the baleful eye of some kind of carnivorous creature, all the colour drained from his face.

Pitch bit his lip. Great. He’d thought that not having anyone in person would make things easier for Jack, but apparently not. “I understand you’re the manager of this here baseball team, right?” he went on, hoping to snap the kid into response.

No such luck. Jack didn’t make so much as a peep, and they were not broadcasting dead air, the worst thing for any radio production to have. Pitch gritted his teeth and drummed his hands on the table, imitating hurried footsteps. “Hey, where’re you going off to? …Sorry folks, looks like Abbott forgot something back at the car. I’ll get him back in a jiffy, in the meantime a word from our sponsors!” Pitch flicked the switch off and put one of the pre-recorded messages that were in the booth. “Jack. Jack, look at me.”

With the on-air light off, the freshman seemed to come back to himself and cringed. “I- I’m sorry, Pitch…”

“Don’t be sorry. Just do better. What’s the problem anyway?”

“There’s people out there listening r-right now.”

Pitch rolled his eyes. “Jack, radio’s been dead for decades now. There’s probably all of ten people who are actually tuned into a piddling little college station like this one.”

“T-ten?” Jack squeaked.

Pitch sighed. “Alright, Jack, look at me. Lift your eyes, now.” When the freshman obeyed, he went on. “We’re going to run through the skit one more time for practice, okay? Just to show you that you can do this without having to worry.”

“Alright…”

Pitch slid his hand surreptitiously over to the switch, holding Jack’s gaze with his own. “So, I understand you’re the manager of this here baseball team, right?” he asked as secretly he turned the broadcast back on.

“Sure am!” Jack answered, determination crossing his features.

“Well, you know, I’d like to know some of the guys names on the team so when I meet ‘em on the street or in the ballpark I’ll be able to say hello to those people.”

“Well sure, I’ll introduce you to the boys. They give ‘em funny names here though.”

“Aw, they always give baseball players funny names.”

“Let’s see, uh we’ve got Who’s on first, What’s on second, and I Don’t Know is on third.”

“Wait, you said you were the manager.”

“That’s right.”

“So you know the names of the basemen.”

“’Course I do.”

“Who’s on first, then?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“No, tell me.”

“Who.”

“The guy on first base!”

“That’s his name.”

“That’s whose name?”

“Exactly.”

The rest of the skit went off without a hitch, even if it put Pitch’s teeth on edge to play the idiot. Finally Jack said the last lines, his posture straighter and more relaxed and a hint of a smile on his face. It was always a bit of a surprise to see how much Jack could change. Pitch grinned a little himself and flipped off the broadcast.

“O-okay, I think I’m ready to go now,” Jack said.

“Already did,” Pitch replied, getting out of the chair and lifting off his headset.

“W-WHAT?!”

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(If you haven't seen this skit, you're missing out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wfmvkO5x6Ng)

[mira-eyeteeth]

There has been too much Piki-Pitch interaction in the Dorks of the Opera AU! No I'm just kidding there can never be too much Piki-Pitch. Let's have some kid!Jack and Pitreneur!

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

Coz de Pitreneur, viscount of the Pitreneur estate, was bored out out of his skull. Uncle Pyotr had some kind of dumb diplomatic talks with some stupid Breton lords and he'd been dragged up to this godforsaken rainy peninsula as well. He could be back home with his friends playing rugby or practicing fencing or something fun, but instead he was stuck in the miserable hamlet of Trestraou. If there were any kids here his age, he hadn't seen them. Of course, he hadn't seen much of anything because it had been raining for the last week and his governess hadn't let him go outside for fear of her charge catching a chill.

As if a little bit of rain could possibly hurt him. But he hadn't been able to talk her around and thus had been stuck indoors for seven mind-numbing days. He'd never been good at sitting still for very long, and by now he was just about ready to scream.

The powers that be must have heard his pleas, because the next day finally, finally, saw no rain. It was still overcast and gloomy, of course, but the clouds were a light, innocuous grey and Coz could almost remember what sun looked like. He tore out of the estate house like greased lightning the moment he'd been bundled into his outdoor clothes, followed by his exasperated governess. They were right by the sea, right? There had to be a halfway decent beach around here somewhere.

The beach he found turned out to be pretty miserable looking, though. A desolate, gravelly shore leading down to choppy slate-grey waves, and a strong, biting wind whipping past Coz and sending cold, damp fingers of air rifling through his clothing. The only sounds were the howl of the wind, the crash of the waves, and the screams of a few scrawny seabirds that wheeled through the air above him.

Coz muttered under his breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and kicking at the tumbled stones at his feet.

And then he noticed that he wasn't alone on the beach. There, huddled on a large hunk of driftwood near the shore, was a kid. At least, it looked like a kid. Ecstatic at the thought of someone here to hang out with who wasn't more than twice his age, Coz hurried down the beach, gravel crunching under his shoes. "Hey!" he called when he got close enough, waving a hand.

The boy flinched, glancing at him for an instant before turning away and scrubbing at his face with the sleeves of his raggedy and faded blue coat. Coz already saw the tear-tracks on the kid's face, though.

"Are you crying?" he asked, slowing his approach.

"N-no, it's nothing, I'm sorry," the boy sniffled.

"Hey, now, what's the matter? I mean, I know this place is pretty depressing, but it's nothing to cry over, right?"

"No, it's just... I... I lost my scarf," he replied, tentatively raising a hand to point out into the sea where a dab of striped blue and white could be seen floating on the waves. The hand dropped and he wrapped his arms around himself, looking down, lower lip trembling. "I don't know what I'm going to tell Dad..."

"Psh, you can always just buy a new one, right?"

"...Don't have the money," the kid whispered, sounding ashamed.

Coz blinked. "Well, then there's just one thing to do, isn't there?" He clapped the kid on the back and yanked off his coat and shirt, kicking off his shoes. With a whoop, he charged into the sea, ignoring the shriek from his governess.

The water was frigid, and the waves were rough, but Coz prided himself on being a damn good swimmer. Within moments he reached the soggy blue scarf and snatched it up. Getting back to shore was a little bit more of a challenge, and by the time he stumbled back onto the gravel his teeth were chattering, but that didn't stop the beaming grin he shot at the pale kid who was staring at him with wide eyes. Coz gave a deep bow and held out the fabric. "Monsieur's scarf."

"I- I- You- You didn't have t-to-" he stammered, looking mortified. "It w-was my faul-"

"Hey, the polite thing here is to thank the kind gentleman who braved the depths for your prized possession," Coz teased.

"S-sorry. T-thank you." The kid hesitantly took the scarf back. "Thank you very m-much-"

The governess swooped down upon them, scolding something fierce and wrapping up her charge in his discarded jacket. With a searing glare at the other boy, she wrapped her hands around Coz's shoulders and started to drag him off, back home.

"Hey, kid!" Coz called back as he was led off. "Name's Coz! What's yours?"

"J-Jack," the tentative reply came.

"Come see me sometime, Jack! Or I'll come find you!" Coz hollered back with a grin. Maybe staying in the area for a while wouldn't be so bad after all...

[bowlingforgerbils]

Viridian City

Well, I wrote another NDU pokemon AU. This one has Proto in it. He terrifies me. (And this is probably the closest to Kissing Cousins I'll ever write, so enjoy it.)

Jack approached the front desk of Viridian City’s pokemon center, a whimpering Pikichu in his arms. “It’ll b-be okay,” he whispered soothingly, scratching the creature behind its ears despite the weak crackle of electricity along its fur. “W-we’ll have you l-l-looked at and you’ll be b-better soon.”

“Can I help you?” asked a tall, gaunt man in a nurse’s uniform.

In Nurse Joy’s uniform.

Jack stared up at him. “Y-you’re n-n-not—“

The man smiled thinly. “I’m Nurse Proto. I’m substituting for Nurse Joy today, is there something I can do for you?”

“Oh.” Jack looked down at the pokemon in his arms. “It’s m-m-my Pikichu. He’s n-n-not feeling well and he keeps g-g-generating electric attacks l-l-like he can’t c-c-control himself.”

“Ah, yes. A common problem with this type.” Nurse Proto slipped on a pair of elbow-length rubber gloves and tapped the counter. “Place him here, please.”

Jack did as instructed. Pikichu whimpered softly but otherwise did not protest until Nurse Proto firmly grabbed it by scruff of its neck.

“Chu!” It squeaked, trying to wiggle away, but the man’s grip was unrelenting.

“Ah, yes,” Nurse Proto murmured as he ghosted his free hand over the pokemon’s body in a cursory examination. “A simple discharge build-up.” He tenderly stroked its back before encircling his hand around the base of its tail. “I’ll give his electrical glands a deep tissue massage and then he’ll be right as rain. Just leave him with me.”

Pikichu’s struggling began anew, its clawed feet scrabbling helplessly on the smooth countertop. “Chuuuuu!” It hissed.

Nurse Proto tightened his hold on its tail. “That’s enough,” he murmured, pulling ever so slightly.

Pikichu went limp. “Piiii,” it whined, looking up at Jack from behind its sunglasses.

“Are y-y-you sure… I m-m-mean—“ Jack gnawed on his lower lip, looking about as frazzled as his pokemon. “I d-d-don’t w-w-want to leave him if h-h-he’s going to b-b-be in pain.”

Nurse Proto tilted his head and offered Jack what was probably an attempt at a kind smile. “My dear boy, I can assure you that while the procedure might feel unusual at first, your pikichu will find it quite pleasurable by the time I’m done.”

Neither pokemon nor trainer looked convinced. “C-c-can I w-w-watch at least?” Jack asked.

“Of course. In fact, I can show you how to do it yourself in case this happens again.” He bent down so that he could look Pikichu in the eyes and whispered, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Precious little thing.”

~*~

Piki woke with a start. He hadn’t meant to doze off on the couch, of all places, and he certainly didn’t expect his cousin’s face to be staring down at him fondly.

“Oh, you’re right, Jack. He does look like an angel when he’s sleeping.” Proto stood back up, and for a second Piki wondered why he wasn’t wearing a nurse’s uniform.

A familiar set of arms wrapped around his nervous frame. “S-s-sorry,” Jack whispered into his ear. “He c-c-came over to drop off a b-b-book he b-b-borrowed.”

“And now I’ll depart. I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel.” Proto walked to the door and paused thoughtfully, looking back. “Unless –“

“Get out.” Piki congratulated himself later on how he managed to say those two words without squeaking.

Proto sighed. “Fine, fine. Enjoy your time together.”

Piki slumped into Jack’s embrace for all of five seconds after Proto left before jumping up and locking the door. Just in case.

[mira-eyeteeth]

Asjhdfkgl Look, look, he's happy (and flustered, yes)! I never get tired of seeing my baby happy, especially since it happens so rarely. v.v

This here's a commission I asked for from Sammiches and it's a beauty! You should go commission something from her too because she's super talented and nice and she could really use the money [x]