#family dama

[verfound]

FIC: Coffee Shop Soundtrack: 5/10 (MLB; Luka)

Notes: I think we’re due for some fluff, don’t you?  Fluff sprinkles, at least.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

Coffee Shop Soundtrack

Chapter Five: That Friday He Ruined Date Night

Friday was going to be an awesome day, if the morning was anything to go by.

Luka was by no means a morning person.  Back when he was still in school, he had had to set multiple alarms – usually no less than five – just to ensure he was up in time for class.  Sometimes even that hadn’t worked, and Juleka had taken to stashing a bucket by her bed for ‘emergencies’ (which, in her language, was any time she felt like being an ass and waking him up with ice water – which happened more frequently once he’d started dating Marinette).  After he’d graduated and started to more actively pursue a career in music, he’d found the life of a musician pandered better to the night life, as well.  Jagged Stone had told him on multiple occasions that was the life, and he’d better get used to it if he was serious about this career path.  He’d been fine with that, as he’d always worked better at night, anyway.

Marinette was the same way.  While she had tried to become more disciplined once she started lycée, her schedule was still chaotic enough that mornings were not her best time.  She also set multiple alarms, usually blaring the loudest rock song she could find (or the most annoying – there had been that stint where she’d used an upbeat banjo song from an American zombie show; it had been absolute hell – the song was catchy enough that it had been stuck in his head for months).  The alarms didn’t always help, as she often worked late into the night.  It seemed the creative mind was naturally a night owl, but it also meant that – even with her still finishing school – their schedules usually meshed, and it worked for them.

That Friday, however, found him up just before sunrise.  By all accounts, he shouldn’t have been: he had been up late the night before, and he’d been enjoying a deep, restful sleep.  Possibly the best sleep he’d had in about a week.  He was vaguely aware of a sound, of movement from Juleka’s side of the room, and sleepily assumed she was getting ready for school.  It wouldn’t be the first time she had accidentally woken him up.  Usually he’d just roll over and go back to sleep.  Probably stuff his head under his pillow.  And yet, that Friday, he found himself attempting to stay up.

Because, that Friday, there was a Marinette in his bed.

And he really liked having a Marinette in his bed.

[troblsomtwins829]

In the end, despite everything, they're together again.

Their family is a little bigger, now. And it's better for it.

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Friday

Aka "you've ruined a perfectly good Damas is what you did. Look at him, he's got anxiety"

(For context, I gave Damas a backstory of being last in line for Haven's throne, but also Last Man Standing. This had something to do with Praxis hating "the default king". Long post warning, it's a whole one-shot again)

At some point in his life, the Precursors had decided that Damas was their least favorite Maridius. Any time something went well for him, it had to be immediately balanced by something awful.

He found acceptance and camaraderie that he never had from his elder brothers among the Forward Guard in the war.

And then Menelaus and Nicostratus died stupid, pointless deaths trying to seize glory, leaving Damas the sole focus of his parents' hopes.

He found an escape from the pressures in running the numbers, working out which districts needed food more than soldiers, and which districts needed more protection than most.

And then Father died and Mother shut herself in a convent, no longer interested in anything to do with her disappointing youngest son.

He actually had support from people for focusing on them and not the nest-

And his eldest brother's childhood friend literally stabbed him in the back and left him to die in the desert.

For a time, he'd assumed things would never get better. That the Precursors were tired of reeling him in and out like a fish on the line. But the hook pulled once more and he found himself using the skills he'd learned from the guards who raised him, joining a rebellion against a tyrant and defeating him against the odds.

And then the Precursors let him have ten good years. They let him find love, and family. They let him become a father. And then they ripped it all away in the cruelest way possible.

Damas knew it was foolish to hope that Mar was alive. He knew Phobos had been right to move on from him -- from them -- and throw herself into operating the orphan barracks of the Cliffside district. But he couldn't let go yet.

So he'd endured. Two bitter years he'd endured. And when he found that scrap of a boy in the desert, only to watch him outdo warriors twice his age, he'd thought maybe things were getting better.

Jak was...hard to define. The kid had seen more combat than some of his most experienced scouts. He carried scars on par with the surviving child-soldiers of Atys's reign. And while he shared their distrust of authority in general, he had none of their understanding of ranks and rulers. He just...treated everyone like they were his equal.

And after the kinds of things he must have experienced in his short life, Jak probably had every right to consider himself the equal of any senior Wastelander.

And for a moment, Damas had foolishly let himself hope that the Precursors could leave well enough alone. That they'd just...let him have this-!

Annnnd then Jak had to go and break the one rule. The one law Damas had given him.

Do not compromise the Arena.

Six other candidates had been doing their third trial against the Leucas Freebooters in that Arena. Six other candidates whose results had to be thrown out, who had to wait for full citizenship, because Jak refused to fight, and Sig had decided to waltz into a trial without checking to see what the purpose of the trial was!

Damas was either going to lose his mind, or go fully rogue and declare war on the Precursors. He couldn't discount either option yet.

Deep breaths, Damas. Deep breaths.

Jak knew not to mess with the purity of the Arena. He knew that, didn't he? He couldn't have gotten this far without understanding how important it was to keep the trial balanced for all candidates! He had to have known the consequences for not only compromising the others' trials and putting them at risk of the Freebooters getting the upper hand on them, but open mutiny-!

He wanted to shake sense into the boy. Maybe smack him upside the head and hope it jarred his common sense loose. But he wasn't likely to get that chance.

Even if Sig had caused this, he had all three amulets. Jak only had two. Those two protected him from a lot, but not public mutiny. A challenge in private Damas could have handled.

He knew Jak -- he thought he knew Jak -- enough to make him understand whatever instruction or decision he had a problem with. He knew how to phrase things to make it sound like all Jak had done was ask for clarification.

He couldn't cover this one up. Not with this many witnesses.

Damas knew the name of the creature thrashing beneath his ribs. Terror.

It clawed at his lungs, coiled around them until he couldn't breathe. Kicked at his heart until he felt every beat like a hammer.

I can't lose him too. I won't lose him too!

He didn't know when, exactly, things had changed between them. Was it before he'd admitted that he'd never had a father to teach him- well, anything? Was it before his second trial, when Phobos had pointedly compared the boy to her own students? Was it her less than subtle hinting that he find his closure in helping the boy he'd dragged out of the mouth of death?

Did it even matter?

You've taken enough from me! You can't have him, too!

It was depressingly easy to mask fear with anger. He had been doing it all his life.

In hindsight, so had Jak.

Damas wondered later if that was why the boy didn't seem afraid. He glared at Damas the whole time, but in those eyes was a challenge: I see through you. You don't fool me.

Damas hoped no one else saw through him.

"What have you done?" he demanded, slamming the butt of his staff onto the stone with a ringing clang.

"One of those Freebooters could have shot you in the head -- shot your comrades -- because you threw down your gun! You placed yourself and them in danger!"

I stopped the trial because of you! Do you not grasp how serious this is?!

"Freebooters?!" Sig exclaimed in surprise before cutting himself off.

"And you, you're a veteran of the Arena! You have no excuse for this!" Damas snarled.

He knew he was going to have to set a punishment. If he didn't, the legislative council would. And he knew which of the two offenders they would favor.

"I shouldn't have to tell you the penalty for sabotaging citizenship trials!"

Sig risked a glance at Jak, then set his jaw.

"You're right," he said in a voice as artificially calm as Damas’s was artificially angry. "I don't have an excuse. I take full responsibility. Don't put this on Jak. He didn't know I'd be there."

Interesting. Sig was trying to protect Jak.

But in doing so, he was trying to force Damas into an impossible decision. One that would haunt him the rest of his life if he carried out the known sentence. After everything Sig had done for him, exile felt like blasphemy.

Damas clearly wasn't the only Spargan who thought so.

"Sire, think about this!" One of the Arena guards set foot on the pathway as if he intended to join the offenders.

"It can't end this way, it can't! Sig is one of us!"

One of his comrades, emboldened by his courage, joined him.

"He just came home from assignment!"

"Stop," Sig warned them, but was ignored.

"Lord Damas, Sig’s served faithfully as your spy in Haven two years! Surely it's not that surprising that he might forget to check a roster!"

"Char is right!" The first guard cried, "It's the newcomer who deserves no mercy!"

You'd better shut your mouth-

Damas knew they were just standing up for a fellow Spargan. He knew that if Jak had all three amulets, they'd be rallying on his behalf, too. But it rankled to see them turn on the boy so quickly.

"Sire, if anyone must be cast into the desert, it's him!" Rikard pointed a shaking finger at Jak.

The words were out before Damas had time to plan his next move.

"Absolutely not! I'm not letting him off that easy!"

Oh rot. He had to follow that up with something.

Think, Damas! Use your shiny, spiny, head for once and think like Obed taught you!

He thought of the old captain of the Krimzon Guard -- when that had meant something, when only the king’s honor guard wore those tattoos -- the man who had raised him when his own family hadn't been interested in such a weak channeler.

There's always another way, whelp."

Then you tell me, Obed! I don't know what to do!

He reached for that memory desperately.

*Sometimes, you face your enemy head-on. And sometimes, you wait until you see a weakness. A loophole."

"You're talking about my brothers again."

"Now, did I say that? Clean the gunpowder out of your ears, whelp, before you get me in trouble!"

A loophole. I can do that. I can still save them-!

Damas sucked in a calming breath through his teeth.

"You do make a point about Sig’s record of service. I would not be king if I did not try to keep you all alive."

Let this work, please, Obed, if you're still watching over me, let this work.

"This once, I will give you the opportunity to salvage this. In your absence, metalpedes have settled in Turquoise Canyon and begun harassing our artificact carriers."

He leaned on his staff and hoped no one saw the tension in his jaw for what it really was: fear.

"I want you to drive into the heart of the nest and take out anything that moves."

He turned on his heel to send a hard stare Jak's way.

"Unlike Sig, you get a choice right now: stay here and forfeit your second amulet, or go with Sig and repay the damage you did today with something that benefits your community."

He prayed Jak could hear the emptiness of his threat. That he would know what Damas needed him to do.

Jak was not technology-friendly. Anything that required precision or aiming was more likely to be used as a blunt force weapon. But put him on a turret gun and the boy was a prodigy. If he went with Sig, the odds of them both surviving skyrocketed.

Jak's glare melted into something uncertain, even a little fearful. He was weighing his options. Good. That would sell the act more to the guards -- who were, like all watchmen, incurable gossips.

Damas saw the moment the light clicked on for Jak. He knew that glint.

Jak nudged Daxter, almost too quickly to be seen, and Daxter nodded. To anyone else, it would seem he was responding to Jak.

Damas knew that Daxter was answering him on Jak’s behalf.

Message received.

"I'm not gonna let you send Sig in there alone."

Damas almost smiled. Defiant to the last. Never change, Jak. Unless it's to learn some common sense-!

"Then perhaps something good can come of this debacle. But understand this, boy: coming back from destroying that nest does not mean this discussion is over. I expect you to turn over your gate pass when you return. You're off scouting for three weeks."

"You're grounding us?!" Daxter shrieked.

"Keep talking, I'll make it a full month."

That one wasn't an empty threat. If he'd thought it would keep Jak out of harm's way, he'd keep him off missions indefinitely!

"We're going," Sig said quickly, and grabbed Jak by the arm before he could protest.

"I'd say good luck," Damas said dryly, "But then, luck won't help you."

which is why I'm sending Jak.

The second the elevator was out of sight, Damas dropped into his throne with the most long-suffering, exasperated groan he'd ever made.

"Someone tell me this is a dream and I'm actually dying of boredom in a financial meeting right now," he said sarcastically.

When no such reassurance arrived from the guards, he dropped his head into his hands with another irritated sound.

In the silence that followed, even over the water wheel they both heard him mutter,

"What am I going to do with that boy?"

Rikard was...not a bad guard. He did his job, and he stuck by his comrades. But he had a big mouth sometimes.

"You...favor the newcomer then? Is it his age?"

Damas aimed a tired glare at him over his fingers.

"Boy, if I told you some of the things I did at his age...."

He groaned again.

"This is boundary-testing. I've seen worse. Rot, I've been worse!"

Silence enveloped them again as the two guards stared at Damas, and Damas stared back. He hadn't meant it to come out like that. After several seconds of owlish blinking back and forth, he said simply,

"Crap. I think I adopted him."

Char turned her head quickly to hide the fact that she was trying very hard not to laugh at the king’s slightly stunned expression.

"Do you...think this will be an adequate lesson?"

Rikard winced. At least he knew he was questioning Damas’s choices in parenting. Er, ruling.

"The nest? Perhaps. It's the confinement that's going to get him." Damas snorted. "You know how Wastelanders are about adrenaline. You ground a kid like that? End of the world."

Mar was exactly the same. Gods, if he's as stubborn as Jak at that age, I'm done for. Might as well write the epitaph now: "died of a heart-attack from idiot sons doing idiot stunts".

"As long as he doesn't set anything on fire in the Arena, sounds good to me," said Char, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Are we clear to return to our posts?"

"Can't set things on fire if I don't let him get two yards away from me, right?" Damas grumbled, but he waved a hand in dismissal.

Once alone, Damas dragged his fingers down his face and muffled a scream in his palm. He was going to get Sig for this. Babysitting. Indefinitely. Or maybe make him handle Arena trials for a while, let him feel that stress! And Jak? Jak was grounded. So, so very grounded. If he had to make Jak sit through meetings with him in the throne room to get it through his head, then so be it. No stunts, no racing, no "the Precursors made me do it" nonsense.

Briefly, he glanced up at the statue of the Oracle in his throne room. Gaudy thing, but it did house a lot of parts of the water wheel.

Damas flipped it off.

[cathalbravecog]

junior!! their design isn't fully decided on yet but i rlly care abt them so i drew them ! they're a very young cog outside of cogs inc and cassie's child (thus, belle's grand grand child). they are an iphone ipad baby. they are very autistic about birds :]

and yes they would walk up to you and say "you're so skibidi!!!!!!!!!!!"

[hecketernal]

IT'S THE HORNS AU

Descendants of Mar have a remarkable tendency to grow horns.

Every Ex-Havenite old enough to remember the family of Mar knows this. They come in all kinds of colors and shape, and even the horn growth pattern seems completely random. A parent often having entirely different looking horns to their child. Damas wondered if Mars' horns would be so different to his own. They hadn't grown in before he was taken. Most descendants didn't start budding until at least their teens.

Mar, the warrior who built Haven city, bore two thick, tusk-like horns that framed his jaws. Damas' mother had had blackened ram horns, meanwhile his sister had had a bright neon blue pair that grew out of her temples angled out like a second pair of ears. It had always made his older sister look rather intimidating. With the sharp cut of her eyeliner drawn in angular slashes around her eyes, he had watched no small number of men quail under that glare.

So yes, those that were old enough (or just brusque enough as native wastelanders tend to be to ask the king to his face why he had horns coming out of his noggin') knew exactly what having horns meant to their leader.

This is the reason why the arena grows hushed, when the newest recruit transforms into a pale frenzied thing with black little horns standing out clearly from the white hair.

[imagionary]

Belle Dama means Beautiful Lady uwu 💚

[frostbite-the-bat]

fcucked up little fmaily

[seirei-bh]

I did a remake of my old design about my version of Jak's mother! Feirah, a wastelander and artifact runner. You can see other drawing about her with her son here.

She was away from Spargus all the time because she had some important missions to do outside.

I decided to not add her bio here, despite of I wrote a lot about her, because I've changed some stuff about her backstory, besides some details are important spoilers about my fanfic (yep, finally I'm going back to keep writing it! Actually I've been working on it, but I couldn't post anything new because I was still fixing plot holes of Jak 3 and doing other stuff).

[inevitablemoment]

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Cathleen Paige Spengler (OC) Rating: Mature Summary: April 1974 - After a tense dinner with her family, Cathleen and Egon return to their hotel room and deal with the onslaught of insecurities brought on by their hurtful words.

Notes: Hi, everyone! I know that this isn't an update to I Want To Know Your Story, but I got this idea last night that I had to get out now. I was up past midnight writing this and I planned on only making it a Tumblr exclusive, but the word count kept getting bigger. So, consider this either a deleted scene or a sneak peek from a future chapter.

Egon and Cathleen have been engaged since Egon proposed to Cathleen on New Year's Eve 1973. They're back in Cleveland to visit his family for the Passover Seder, which took place on April 6th, 1974. Cathleen's family convinced her to visit for dinner with them the next day and she reluctantly agreed. And of course... they were themselves.

If you follow me on Tumblr, you know that Cathleen's family disapproves of her relationship with Egon on account of his Jewish heritage and of his neurodiversity. I don't refer to it as autism in this fic, as it wasn't given that name until 1977, about three years after this fic.

Warnings regarding Cathleen's family's antisemitism and ableism (the latter of also wasn't named back then) are in the tags of this fic.

But, I hope you enjoy the fluffy, angsty hurt/comfort that my brain-- fueled by a heat wave tempered only by the overhead fan, the motivation to finish writing before I went to bed, and one of my favorite episodes of Murdoch Mysteries-- spat out.

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio for September 16, 2024; #385.

Stuck: “Shift”

Hygeine: “L.T.N.”

Pal: “WW2”

Dama Scout: “E-mails From Suzanne”

Ismatic Guru: “White Rabbit”

Foyer Red: “Tallest Dogwood”

Family Vision: “Sharpest Edge”

Marcel Wave: “Stop Continue”

Lane: “Everybody’s Finding Out”

Lame Drivers: “Spring”

Medium, The: “Golden Angels”

Dom Sensitive: “R&D”

Cheekface: “I’m A Teenage Edgelord”

Dancer: “Priority Girl”

Objections: “Hymns”

Pandagolff: “Lego De Go”

Artificial Go: “Pay Phone”

Bench Press: “Computer Hands”

G2G: “Pop Song”

Silverbacks: “Something I Know”

Rearranged Face: “Rude Awakening”

Deluxe post-punk, d.i.y., and city.

[sims4legacyandoherfunthings]

Round 7, Family 10- Damas

The latest update of my Sims 2 Build a city challenge

Eron works on logic Marisa works on Charisma Eamon plays the xylophone He learns to talk He uses the pegbox promotions The couple work on Charisma Eamon becomes a child Marisa gets promoted Eamon greets his mum He uses the telescope Eron plays the guitar Marisa works out Eron gets promoted Eamon plays with toys Eron writes a novel

[sims3gameandchallengelover]

Round 7, Family 10- Damas

The latest update of my Sims 2 Build a city challenge

Eron works on logic Marisa works on Charisma Eamon plays the xylophone He learns to talk He uses the pegbox promotions The couple work on Charisma Eamon becomes a child Marisa gets promoted Eamon greets his mum He uses the telescope Eron plays the guitar Marisa works out Eron gets promoted Eamon plays with toys Eron writes a novel

[troblsomtwins829]

Raspberry takes one look at Jak, and despite the valid concern she wouldn't care for him as much as Damas does, she sees enough of herself in him; and enough of Damas AND Sig. She can't help but love him as well.

Damas says he's their son. That means he's her son, too.

[radioactivepeasant]

WIP of Damas post Jak 3 (because 2004 animation being what it was means in The Scene We Don't Acknowledge Except For Angst, the dude only had his legs pinned. Learn to read a pulse, Jak! 😆)

"You're just going to sit there all day?"

"Yep."

"....you don't trust me not to strain the injuries. I should be insulted."

"Well frankly, boss, I had to inherit the recklessness from somebody."

"..."

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"....I'm going to tell the next advisor who walks in that you have separation anxiety. How about that."

"First of all, you're probably not wrong. Second, if you think you can annoy me into leaving, we're gonna be here a long time."

"So you say. But I am a man of nigh infinite patience-"

"-except when it comes to recovering from compound fractures, apparently-"

"-and you'll break down sooner or later."

[cathalbravecog]

I saw your message and I fully agree, I'm gonna be honest, this is literally the first time i ever ''humanize'' characters, because I'm also a big fan of how they already look like as robots (I mean the reason I got into corporate clash is because of the designs of the og managers in clash lol) I will always 100% prefer the managers as robots. (I love robots, they r so silly :) Like I said im mostly doing this for fun and also because I saw some people in the clash discord making their own human designs and it gave me some ideas (a lot actually)... Anyway here's my take on human cathal.

I made his little round things on the sides of his mouth (i forgor what they're called skull emoji) as headphones and i also gave him funky lil glasses that are similar to his og eyes...

So YEeAHHHhhh im gonna crawl back into my cave now

I LOVE THE IDEA OF HIS SCREEN EYES BEING FUNKY GLASSES!!! The headphones are clever too and honestly if Cathal didn't have a square TV head he's probably be wearing headphones anyway

And yeah things like this are fun especially joining in or if you're inspired! I remember I once made a human Bugsnak design after someone inspired me

Thank you for sharing :D

[narizentupidocartazes]

[2016] 29 de Abril | Sly & The Family Drone | Stef Ketteringham | Talkoot | DAMAS - Lisboa

Cartaz [Patrícia Guimarães]