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sparguscityangel · 11 months

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The Dark Eco Incident

I held a mini contest by accident and @segaphantom won and requested a fic about his Spicy Jelly AU where TPL!Jak accidentally eats dark eco and transforms into Dark Jak. It was so fun to write that I wanted to share it. Congrats Sega! Enjoy!

This was easily the stupidest thing Jak had ever done.

Well, maybe top five. And maybe not the stupidest thing, but definitely up there for the stupidest thing.

Let’s rewind a little bit.

The origins of Jak’s seemingly indestructible stomach are vastly unknown. An expert gastroenterologist could explain in great detail the functions of the stomach along with its genetic makeup. They could ramble on and on about gastric acid and stomach lining and ulcers and all kinds of things that would make someone else lose their stomach contents at the truth of how truly disgusting the human body can be. A professional’s opinion would still be very appreciated, but seeing how the very field of gastroenterology wouldn’t be invented for several hundred years, the query must be passed on to psychology which also wouldn’t be invented for another several hundred years. But if they did exist back when Jak was a young teenager running around barefoot on a beach that has never known the horrors of pollution or plastic, they would probably point his predilection to putting anything and everything in his mouth on a suspected food insecurity brought on by trauma usually seen in children who grew up with scarce resources — usually during a war.

Of course, if one tried to tell Jak this, it would absolutely sound insane. As insane as time travel, in fact.

So, what could the village elders say other than Jak just had the appetite of a very hungry goat? He’d grow out of it eventually. He was young, after all, and growing boys needed to eat enough to power a small army. Especially when that growing boy is their small army, but they digress. The point is that as long as the villagers remember to keep any and all precious valuables out of reach of the kid, they’ll be fine.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, the villagers were elderly and, well, remembering wasn’t exactly their strong suit. Because of all the villages that speckled the coast where Samos the Sage could’ve easily picked to train the heir of the most powerful Haus — both literally and figuratively — in known history, he just had to pick the one with the most old people. It was like he followed the scent of arthritic cream and prunes until he came upon Sandover and pitched their tent there and if that wasn’t bad enough, if that wasn’t bad enough, he also forgot that he himself wasn’t a spring chicken. Sure, he adopted a young girl and in his dementia riddled brain must’ve believed that having a teenage daughter also made him young in spirit, but he was old and forgetful and he should’ve been more careful. Just as he always drilled into the heads of Jak and his annoying orange friend who Samos had prayed would’ve been left out of this time loop — all actions have consequences.

This was the consequences of his actions.

Not that he was aware of it occurring at the time.

At the time, Jak had simply been hungry. Ravenously so. Training had been becoming more intense lately, and alongside his sore muscles, his insides felt like they were about to turn to liquid from channeling so much eco in rapid succession. Samos insisted that there was still so much to do, so much to learn, but Jak was growing restless. Every time his uncle came home and told him about his travels, about the things he’s seen and the people he’s met, it made his stomach twist in knots with anticipation. Their family, his uncle told him, weren’t the sitting around type. They were explorers. Adventures. Innovators and lustful for danger. They came from a long, long line of ancestors who defy the odds and do spectacular things with their sharp minds and skills. After a lifetime of listening to these promises, it was only natural that Jak would long to be a part of those stories. The first thing he’d conquer once he was allowed to leave the village would be Misty Island — that, he was sure of.

But to conquer Misty Island meant to first complete his training. Which was supposed to begin nearly an hour ago, but hadn’t, and now he was starving.

The diet Samos approved for him of roots and fish was starting to turn bitter on his tongue. He missed the sweetness of mangos and the honeyed taste of caramelized bananas. Sometimes, he’d even get a craving to eat the prickly plant that grew high up on the cliffs, instincts telling him to skin the plant and grill it to make a meal that he has never eaten before in his life but would accurately tell anyone the taste of.

He was so, so hungry.

Well, if Samos wasn’t going to show up any time soon, then Jak was going to take matters into his own hands and find something to eat in the hut.

The roots that Samos kept in jars lined the wall of his other doohickies that he sternly told him and Daxter to not touch under any circumstances. They were filled with dirt, wriggling worms, mushrooms, crawling lacewings, and more dirt that smelled suspiciously like the yakkow pen on the edge of the village. Jak turned away from them once he spotted the jars containing liquified eco, his insides already beginning to twinge at the idea of having to channel them later when his training called for it. So, he turned his attention to the last place that he’d expect to find eco: The pantry.

A part of him warned him against straying from the carefully laid out diet. It told him that he should wait, and if he couldn’t wait, then he should at least look for something that followed the guidelines. Something healthy, for example. Carrots, bell peppers, sprouts, things of that nature that will give him energy.

The other part of him instantly spotted the jar of dark marmalade and went, “Yeah, that’ll do.”

Grabbing it off the shelf, Jak inspected it with eagerness. It was a violet color with some streaks of magenta, possibly run-off of some other fruit. A two-fruit marmalade. Though he couldn’t fathom what the majority of it was, he knew in his gut that the magenta was no doubt strawberries. Keira had been telling him and Daxter that the strawberry plant she had been nursing for the better part of a year had finally begun to yield fruit and she was extremely excited about all the possible desserts, jams, and fruit salads they could make with them. She must’ve started making things with them, and though Jak was a little hurt she didn’t give him any to try, he was excited regardless.

He found the toast easy enough. It was in a bread box nestled somewhere on Samos’ desk, no doubt often a snack for the sage while he worked on his mastery of green eco. The knife was salvaged from the junk drawer. Saliva began to pool in Jak’s mouth as he twisted the jar open, sniffing the contents. It wasn’t … the best smelling marmalade. Hell, looking at it now, it wasn’t even marmalade. The consistency was gelatinous and thinner than marmalade, and Jak was confident it was more of a jelly than anything else. The smell of bitter almonds and sickly sweetness assaulted his senses almost immediately, making him gag momentarily. He even almost considered not eating it after all, but then he remembered that fish often aren't the best smelling when they are gutted, so maybe it was the same for the jelly.

Jak plunged the knife in, moving it around and watched it come apart easily. It was like scooping up honey and the young man perked up when he saw the dark jelly drip off the knife and back into the jar. Already he could picture the taste of it, the sweetness that will hit his tongue and pair amazingly with the crunch of the toast. He wasted no time spreading it, evening it out across the entire square and then scooping a bit more until he couldn’t see the toast underneath it. It looked perfect.

The first bite, however, wasn’t what he expected.

He had prepared for a sweet taste, but instead was met with pinching on his tongue. His whole mouth, in fact. It stung and fizzed across his taste buds, setting them on fire in a way that both felt and tasted good. Keira must’ve added in a bit of spice or peppers, really giving it a good kick that Jak was all too happy about. Even though he thought it could use a bit more of it, he was satisfied with it nonetheless and craved more of the jelly.

He grabbed the jar and looked inside, noticing that there wasn’t much left. Surely Samos wouldn’t mind if he just went ahead and finished the jar, right? It’s not like jelly ever really hurt anyone.

______________

“Hey! Old Greenie!”

Samos sighed, grumbling as he shuffled to turn around and face the grating young boy coming toward him. The lanky boy leaned over the railing of the house of his uncle, kicking his feet in annoyance as if he had been patiently waiting for someone for far too long and his patience had run dry. He and Jak must’ve been in the middle of hide and seek, and by the looks of it, either Jak had grown tired of seeking or was just incredibly bad at it. That wouldn’t do. Samos would have to add observation training to the long list of skills that he would need to know before the time came. With every passing week, he was growing to resemble the angry young man in Haven more and more, and the thought of it scared him more than he’d like to admit. They were running out of time, and Samos needed to prepare the boy the best he could before his fate would be ripped out of his controlled hands.

One problem at a time, Samos.

“What is it, Daxter?”

“Are you guys done yet?”

Samos raised an eyebrow at him. “What the blue blazes are you talking about, boy?”

Daxter huffed, pushing away from the railing and hopping down the porch. His knobby knees barely made the landing, and he stood up with a wobble that he tried to hide by leaning against a post, crossing his arms.

“Training or whatever it is that you and Jak get up to up there. Are you done? It’s been hours,”

Training.

Oh, for Precursors’ sake, he forgot about training! Jak must’ve been waiting for him up in his hut this whole time and here Samos was, holding a basket of mushrooms and sprouts from the beach. The appointment had completely slipped his mind.

Without replying, Samos turned his heel and hurried toward his hut and the undoubtedly bored teenager. Who knows what he had gotten up to? His hut was full of delicate and precious artifacts and plants. It took years for him to build up a collection as extensive as his, especially when it came to hunting down the exact Precursor remnants that he needed to educate Jak on the way it all worked when activated by eco — and him. His bloodline, the divinity hidden within him that Samos has yet figured out how to bring up the subject to him. Unfortunately, the issue was that Jak was still fifteen and unbearably so. The blissful ignorance of youth hasn’t skipped him, and heir or not, he was still his father’s son and insanely impulsive when it came to recklessness.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!”

Samos ignored Daxter, lumbering up the wooden bridge as the teen trailed after him. He had to get back into th—

Something that sounded like glass broke. Oh, for Mar’s sake!

Entering the hut was like entering the scene of a crime. Dark eco stained and scorched the wooden planks of the flooring, scattered everywhere like someone went around the room and plopped heaps of it wherever they pleased. The small spark of hope that the Sage had was that the rest of the artifacts and plant life was relatively untouched, everything back in its place just as he left it except for the thing hunched over the biggest stain of dark eco.

The floor creaked under him and it aroused the attention of the creature, its head whipping up to stare at him with eyes as black as voids, large and eerie against the sickly gray pallor that colored what used to be light russet skin. It fed on the dark eco, scooping handfuls of it and licking it off his fingers and elongated talons. This was a creature that Samos had only seen once before, more than a decade ago when he was still not yet a wise sage but rather an arrogant Freedom Fighter that had committed almost as many atrocities as the tyrannical government he swore he was nothing like. He had hoped and prayed to never see it again, not for the remainder of this lifetime at least, and the internal clock inside him that counted down the minutes until the time loop was kickstarted against immediately started to flash zeros. The creature used its foot to scratch behind his ear, flicking it like a yakkow before continuing to devour the remains of the dark eco jar that Samos had sworn he had hidden away.

Behind him, both Keira and Daxter gasped and screamed, clinging to one another as they urgently tried to get out questions faster than their brain could phrase it. It snapped him out of his shock, springing him to action.

“Sweet Precursors, Jak! What did you do?!” he hollered, moving toward the creature with enough faux confidence that he hoped would intimidate him enough to be apprehended. He didn’t need to look at Daxter and Keira to know they were both staring at him with wide eyes and pinched brows, mouths hanging open in shock.

“Why are you calling that thing Jak?” Daxter screeched, then louder exclaimed, “Keira, why is he calling it Jak!?”

Samos rolled his eyes. He really should’ve done a better job educating them all. Precursors know what they will do when they see the angry and bigger version in the near future. “Because it’s Jak! The idiot must’ve gotten into my stash of dark eco and turned himself into this!” he whacked his staff on the head of the creature, earning him a hiss of pain, “This is why I told you to not touch anything in here!” Then he turned back to the gobsmacked teens standing in the doorway, “Well, don’t just stand there! Hold him down so I can turn him back!”

Daxter snapped his eyes away from Jak and stared down the old man, going from shock to disbelief in a matter of seconds. “You expect us to touch him?! Do you not see the fangs?!”

“Oh, come off it. He’s no more dangerous than a Lurkerpuppy!”

“Have you ever been around a Lurkerpuppy? Those things bite!”

“He won’t bite you! Just … keep your fingers away from his mouth,”

Daxter opened his mouth to complain again, but he was cut off by Keira scoffing, pushing away from him and moving toward the creature currently trying suck out the dark eco from the grain of the wood. She cleared her throat, trying to get his attention, but it fell on deaf ears as he continued to lick and suckle the eco. Bracing herself with taunt muscles, the young girl squeezed her eyes shut and shot out her hand, her fingertips finding their way to the underside of his chin. For all that was good and— there was no way she was actually trying to pet the creature. Samos had seen the many methods both the Krimzon Guards and Underground had tested out to tame the killing machines and he doubted that a litt—

Except, it worked. Like a charm, it fucking worked.

The second her palm made contact with his chin, Jak’s eyes went wide and he stilled. For a few tense moments, all three of them held their breaths as they waited for a reaction or bite to come out of the creature. Something inside his throat rumbled, and he carefully wrapped his fingers around her wrist, tugging her closer to lay his jaw in her palm. He purred again, rubbing his face against her hand before she got the picture of what he wanted her to do. “Oh,” she hummed, testing her theory out by digging her nails in and scratching the spot just behind his ear.

“Mrrp!” he chimed, both hands coming up to hold her wrist in place as she pet and scratched the ferocious beast that used to be her best friend. Or was it her best friend that used to be a beast? None of them were really sure, and they didn’t have the energy to understand it, frankly. Samos had to act quick. If this went untreated for too long, who knows what the ramifications of ingesting dark eco would be. For all he knew, it could burn through him completely and leave them with a puddle of goggles and hair gel.

Samos gave them a wide berth, inching slowly toward the cabinet in the corner of the room where he had a plethora of medical-grade green eco. Balms, creams, gels, and medications all lined the shelves in neat rows, a proverbial candy store of care that should be able to cure just about any physical ailment. In his studies, Samos found that green eco could cure just about any damage caused by the dark eco, but he’d need to be careful. The only reason Jak wasn’t dead yet was because he, like his father and grandfather and great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather, was a channeler. He’d need to deliver the green eco in a way that would make it harder for Jak’s body to channel it and use it for energy rather than for its healing properties. It’d have to be administered with the syringes.

Samos was going to hate this.

Behind him, Jak had completely melted into Keira’s hands as she smiled and pet the creature like an oversized puppy. She scratched behind his ears, under his chin, cupped his jaw — wherever she touched him, it seemed that Jak was elated. His eyes squinted and he grinned with sharp fangs, breathing past the adorable noises he was making the more she pet him. This was so going to be blackmail when he transformed back.

“Hey, Dax! Look at this face! Oh, aren’t you just the cutest thing?” she giggled, pinching Jak’s cheeks with her thumbs. The creature cooed, almost as if he was agreeing with her.

Daxter didn’t seem convinced. “Yeah, I’m not going near that. Best friend or not, I like having all ten fingers right where they belong,”

“Oh, you big baby!” she huffed, bringing Jak’s cheek to press against her own, “He’s harmless!”

“Yeah, well, let’s see if you think he’s harmless after he bites off your face and sucks all your blood,”

“For the last time, Dax, there are no such thing as vampires and that was just a dream,”

“I know what I saw and if it was a dream, why did it feel so real!?”

“So the little green men are real too?”

“You’re going to look so stupid when I catch one,”

Keira shook her head at him, turning her attention back on Jak. The hands wrapped around her wrist started to slacken, now only loosely holding her in place as she continued to ravish him with soothing scratches. How could anyone be terrified of him? It’s like being afraid of a cabbit or muse. She lifted his ears up, hitching it up higher so it resembled the elongated ears of a cabbit and let out a squeal.

“Aw, come on, Dax! He’s too cute!”

When the boy sighed, Keira knew she won. She held Jak’s head cupped between her hands, facing him toward the teen to pet. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt. It’s Jak after all. He’s known him since they were practically in diapers, and he was confident that even while looking like this, Jak would still remember and cherish their friendship, right? That’s the kind of stuff friends do? Their bond persisting after hardships and all that other yakkow crap? Besides, Keira was right. He did look an awful lot like a cute, fuzzy animal. One pet wouldn’t hurt …

Daxter reached out like Keira had, though this time he kept his eyes trained on the sweet scrunched up face of his best friend. Why was he so afraid of him to begin with? He was nothing but a huge—

“YOUCH!”

“Daxter, get your hand out of his mouth! I need to give him the oral medication too!”

The boy just screamed, trying to wretch his hand free of the fangs currently trying their hardest to pierce his skin. It would’ve been nice to have had a heads up before Samos plunged the syringe into Jak, catching the teen off guard and setting off his fight or flight instincts at the drop of a hat. Keira was trying to ease Jak’s jaw free, cooing and humming into his ear while caressing his cheek, using her other hand to push down on his jaw so he could release Daxter. If he hadn't known any better, Daxter would think that Keira was more concerned with Jak’s feelings than Daxter’s once beautiful, perfect hand.

“Get him off!” he cried out, wriggling on the floor to alleviate the pain shooting up his arm.

“That’s it, Jak. Spit it out. You don’t know where that hand has been,” Keira whispered, digging her fingertips into the divet of his cheeks until they propped open enough to let Daxter’s hand go free, “Good boy! You got it!”

Daxter scrambled backwards, kicking his feet on the ground to wedge himself firmly in the doorway in case Jak tried to go for seconds. He held his hand against his chest — unharmed other than a small scratch and tiny indents of his friend’s teeth — and pointed an accusatory finger at Jak. “He tried to eat me! No good boy! Bad! Bad mutated monster of my best friend … boy,”

“Are you … crying?”

“Of course, I’m crying! He bit my hand!”

Samos loudly shushed them, his voice low and rumbling as he silenced all three of them. His head was starting to hurt from the situation and all the noise and he still needed to give Jak the medicine that should hopefully dry up any remains of the dark eco in his mouth and stomach. It was easier said than done though. Jak’s trust in him has gone from a little to zero now that he knows it was him that pricked him with the syringe. He didn’t need a twin bite mark to know this, watching the teen curl up closer to Keira and trying to hide behind his daughter while she petted his hair flat. If he wasn’t going to take it willingly, he’d have to go with plan B.

He waited. Eyeing the two with all the concentration he had inside him, Samos waited until Jak had completely calmed down from his attempt on Daxter’s hand’s life. Any signs of him relaxing enough to where he wouldn’t suspect the older man trying to hurt him again. There was no reasoning with Jak in this state, and he wasn’t about to waste time trying. Keira’s arm just wrapped around his shoulders, pressing his head to her shoulder while making soothing noises, Jak’s eyes going small and watery. It seems that Daxter’s outburst might’ve … hurt his feelings? He didn’t know, nor did he really care. He had one shot at this, and now was the moment to take it.

Yanking Jak away from Keira by the horn, Samos shoved the medicine in his mouth when the creature opened his mouth to cry out. He might’ve used more force than necessary when he held his head down and his lower jaw upwards, making sure that the creature couldn’t spit it out while Keira hollered at him to let him go. The sage grit his teeth, applying as much pressure as possible and losing the battle with Jak. Though this version of the supposed Dark Warrior was smaller, unrefined, and weaker, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t as powerful as his older self was. Samos still remembered the carnage he happened upon during the last leg of the invasion, shock and horror all dawning on him as he watched the monster leap between metalheads to keep them far away from the group as they made their way through the sector.

Samos also still remembered his daughter, standing elbow to elbow with the blonde Underground spy who wouldn’t be born for millenia, both helping out by shooting any metalhead that the Dark Warrior missed. Daxter standing bravely on Jak’s shoulder, yanking him by the hair to avoid close calls to the head or shoving him to the side to avoid an oncoming assault.

He couldn’t think about that now. It brought up too much heartache to think about what pain laid ahead for all three of them.

Something wet touched his wrist, and when Samos looked down, he wanted to curse the young man with all the profanities and more he could think of. The creature was foaming at the mouth, froth covering his lips and chin as he growled and barked at the Sage in an effort to get him to let go. He threw his head from side to side, trying to dislodge him, and catching Samos in the face in the process.

“Precursors!” he hissed, hands coming up to cup his nose with a groan. The simple act cost them their advantage, releasing Jak enough for him to crawl out of the window and scale upward toward the observator on the roof. Keira ran after him, stopping short of leaning out the window to call his name as the sounds of scuttling echoed from the ceiling. Straw rained down on her head, entering the hut as she snapped her head to face the two injured men.

“We have to do something! What if he slips and falls down?!”

“You’re worried about him?!” Daxter whined, holding out his uninjured hand, “He practically mauled me!”

“Grow a pair!”

“Keira,” Samos snapped, standing up with great effort by leaning heavily on his staff. He felt his nose, wincing at how tender it was, but ultimately concluding that it wasn’t broken. He’s going to have one hell of a bruise, but it wasn’t broken. “He’ll be fine. He’ll turn back to normal in an hour or so when he burns through the eco,”

“But Daddy—”

He waved her off. “Believe me, sweetie. I’ve seen men channel more eco than he did and turn back to normal within minutes. Just let him get it out of his system,” he sighed, looking over the mess. It was all cosmetic, and shouldn’t take more than an hour to clean up if some elbow grease was put into it. He was just grateful that Jak hadn’t disturbed Chomper, otherwise they would’ve been in real trouble. “Daxter! Get this place cleaned up! I want this floor to be spotless!”

The red-head groaned, grumbling as he stood up and automatically grabbed a broom, which was interesting. Usually Daxter had to get through exactly eleven minutes of complaining before he even considered grabbing a mop, but today there was nothing coming from the peanut gallery. Good. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to Daxter. He needed to make more syringes to replenish the ones he used on Jak. Samos pulled out his mortar and pestle, the aloe leaf, and a jar of raw green eco and got to work mixing the ingredients together. Keira still lingered by the window, torn between giving Daxter a hand or climbing out to get Jak down from the roof. Bless her heart. Her capacity for love and affection went far beyond what was ever necessary and he loved her for that, though he could sometimes do without the stubbornness that accompanied it. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that raising a teenage girl would be easy, but Precursors, someone could’ve at least made a manual or something to help other clueless fathers navigate it.

It’s why he didn’t stop her from busying herself with making him a snackbox, mentioning under her breath that the dark eco and toast didn’t count as lunch and he still needed to eat — creature or not.

Jak will tire himself out eventually. In the morning, this will all be a funny story they will reminisce on for years and years to come. It’s not like the eco will last forever, right? The dark eco will deplete and burn out like wax, Jak will revert back, get cold, and come back down to the hut where Samos will attempt to make the occurrence seem completely normal. He’ll spin some yarn about some great dark sage long ago who had made the same mistake and how it left him permanently altered after he gorged himself on too much of it. If he’s successful, it’ll steer Jak in the opposite direction of dark eco, keep him as far from it as he can be before the inevitable time comes where he won’t be able to escape it for two years. Come spring, and Jak’s world will be flipped completely upside down. The least Samos could do was offer him that bit of mercy before them.

It’s what he tells himself later that night, when the moon is full and big hanging in the night sky, and Jak’s howling can be heard from far and near. He’ll tire himself out eventually, even if he’s been at it for six hours now with no signs of stopping.

Fuck the Haus of Mar

#jak and daxter #jnd #angel's fic #dark jak

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adhdavinci · 2 months

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Torn's Tails, please!

thank you!! bundling this with the other requests for TT from 7/10, for @scifikimmi, @eriquin, @stonemaskedtaliesin, and @gnomer-denois.

🔞⚠️ mild NSFW, referenced interspecies

“You can't tell me what to do!” “Yes, I can. Unless you and your pet want to find another way to the Baron.” Daxter sighs, laying down on his new favorite mattress. Jak and Torn have been arguing for the past ten minutes with no signs of stopping. What about, Daxter still isn't sure. But the show is pretty fun, especially now that Torn has Jak by the shirt, their noses practically pressed together as they yell. It would be pathetically easy to just smack their heads together. Daxter rubs his cheek over the bedsheets for the fifth time in as many minutes. The scent is almost gone, but he can still pick up the hints of Eau de Torn from the puddle that had soaked the thin mattress. He hasn't been able to catch Torn alone since that first fuck, but the bunker still kinda reeks; the guy hasn't been slacking in the days since. A fresh wave of pussy smell wafts over Daxter's nose, making it twitch. His eyes flick over Torn's long, lanky bod where it's currently pressed against the table by Jak's short bulk. Holy shit, Torn's leaning into it! Maybe he's not just about tails after all? A threesome with Torn and Jak… wouldn't that be something. Daxter sighs aloud just at the thought. Then freezes under the double set of blues that snap to him.

#wip wednesday #jnd #kink fic #my fic #mine #ask #skarabrae-stone #gnomer-denois #eriquin #scifikimmi #stonemaskedtaliesin

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shenzuul · 7 days

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I think these fics deserve more comments, honestly. Anyone mind jumping in to throw a little ❤ or <3 in there for these authors?

Shrike by Rhinocio

Words: 8,076

Plot: Tess and Dax bring an injured Dax to Keira's garage as a last resort, and Keira helps out, initially with reservations and with growing understanding.

This is my favorite Keira fic of all time. It deals with her attitude toward Jak in the second game very humanly. It just - it recognizes how she is a unique person, with her own characteristics, not even flaws necessarily, that combine in just the right way with their circumstances in the story to make her make mistakes and hurt her friends, but also make it possible for her to recognize that and start trying to fix it.

Age Quod Agis by Rhinocio

Words: 4,154

Plot: Jak & Daxter have a discussion about why Jak should break up with Keira. (Not just because he's ace.)

This is just, exactly the way the conversation would go down if Jak and Daxter ended up talking about Jak being/becoming asexual. Perfectly in character, funny at moments, kind of touching.

Just a Shirt by Weiila

Words: 2,870

Plot: Sig covers for Jak while they wait for Daxter to come up with evidence for Krew that they aren't at fault for a missing shipment.

This is a short character study that manages to touch on Sig & Tess, Sig & Jak, Jak & Daxter. It feels very real, very grounded, very human, and I love it so much.

#jnd #jak and daxter #fic recs #keira hagai

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sourfacedlemon · 8 months

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"Good Boy"

Gifted to me for the Parental Discretion 2024 Flash Exchange!

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Underage Category: Other Fandom: Jak and Daxter Relationship: Torn/Seem (Jak and Daxter) Characters: Torn (Jak and Daxter), Seem (Jak and Daxter) Additional Tags: Seem is nonbinary, Implied Relationships Words: 446

Collections: Parental Discretion FLASH [Jan 2024]

#jak and daxter #seem #torn #jnd fic rec #by lemon #ParDi Flash 2024

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bedazzledstrider · 2 years

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Baby’s first Jak drawing

Complete with a side of my fiancée drew a censor bar on him because she could see his nipples

#This is definitely not based off of my own fic definitely not #jak and daxter #jnd #jnd fanart #jak 2 #jak 2 renegade #jak 3 #jak x #jak x combat racing

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captain-castaway · 1 year

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WAH

BY WHICH I MEAN I got tagged in one of those Last Line Games like two weeks ago by @abysskeeper and uh never noticed bc I never check my mentions oops

anyways it’s supposed to be the last line of your WIP but I’m feeling vain today so you’re getting like a few last lines from a few different WIPs that probably won’t see the light of day for several years

so uh here’s one from a KH:COM rewrite/au bc I was having Namine Feelings last night

[It’s just information, Namine thinks, brushing away the guilt. It’s just data. It’s just a story. A story she’s telling with a friend, that’s all. A story where they are friends; a story where she’s the only friend that matters. Her hand stills, and the guilt in her stomach twists into something like longing. Wistfulness. Nostalgia for something that hadn’t actually happened.

It could have happened, she thinks. It will have happened, she thinks further. She looks up towards the locked door of her room, and the tiny hope she’d clung to so carefully sours instantly

It has to have happened, she thinks with finality, and she picks up her pencils once more.]

here’s a potential line from an After sequel in which Speedrun!Link tries his hardest to explain to Zelda how he got there so fast

[There are no common signs for how Link managed to make it to the castle so quickly. He starts somewhere in common, then jumps to Hylian by way of Zora and Goron in some weird mish-mash, and really Zelda would have been more impressed with how many different languages he had muscle memory of had he not been describing something utterly ludicrous.]

aaaaaaand finally a piece from a KH:BBS rewrite/au because I have just so many thoughts about why the fuck Pete got banished + reminiscing on Mickey’s Magical Quest for the SNES

[”Nows see here, your Majesty. Isn’t this a touch too far?”

“You kidnapped me, Pete,” Minnie said coldly.

“All part of a sting operation against the Beagle Boys.”

“You stole my dog,” Mickey protested in utter indignation.

“Heresay.”

“Pete you can’t just say that, I was literally there, I saw you-” With every word Mickey’s voice jumped in octave.

Pete, for his part, gave the mouse a long, annoyed look. “I liked you better when you didn’t speak.”

“Guards!” Minni snapped, “Get him out of my sight.”]

anyways don’t expect the KH ones to come out any time soon as they’re part of a uh Self Indulgent Whole Series Rewrite Magnum Opus because I’m God Apparently and have decided to replay all the games and take extensive notes on everything because I’m a Scholar (I do have a handful of scene sketches for almost all of the games if you ever want a peek under the hood though lol)

the BOTW one is likely quicker, assuming I don’t write something for TOTK first oops

and uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh @unironicallycringe and the rest of the Fanfiction Book Club I have forgotten your various handles but you’re all invited to play!

#last line #the captain is speaking #god I haven't used that tag in forever #anyways #I'm VoidGobbo on ao3 if you wanna read my 1 fic lol #feel free to ask me things about the various fics!! I've got these and a few jnd ones locked and loaded

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aces-to-apples · 2 years

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"pretty (handy with that iron)"

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Jak and Daxter

Relationships: Daxter & Jak, Jak/Jinx (Jak and Daxter)

Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Transmasculine Jak, She/Her Pronouns used for Jak, Gender Confusion, gender euphoria, POV Outsider, speedrunning a snarky flirtation-induced gender crisis, because neither of these dudes have queer vocab and who cares with cars to steal, no beta we die like man

Words: 2654

#jak and daxter #jak ii #jinx #jink #jnd fic #by apples

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troblsomtwins829 · 6 months

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These are all of the pictures from the "Team Building Excercise" Fic I haven't finished yet. All in roughly the correct order.

I'll explain it later

#jak and daxter #jnd #jnd fanart #team building exercise Fic #troblsomart #tw: blood

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radioactivepeasant · 4 months

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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.

#writing prompts #fic prompts #free day friday #Damas’s full name in this branch of aus is Xenodamas. named for one of Menelaus sons along with Nicostratus #he was the Daxter of his family #jak and daxter #dadmas #king damas #alternate version of a scene #jak 3 #brain said write something funny and instead i gave Damas so much stress #but in my defense *I* thought it was funny even if he very much did not #jnd ocs #wastelander ocs #if Captain Obed had survived the metalhead war he'd smack Damas upside the head and tell him to go get his kid #luckily for Obed Phobos is perfectly willing to do that in his stead #Jak knows Damas is covering for him. He does *not* know how grounded he's about to be #good luck getting him back to Haven Ashelin. His dad won't sign the permission slip.

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hecketernal · 7 months

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Sneak Peak of Chapter Two of The Mar's Tomb Investigation

((this chapter has hands and has been fighting me like a fromsoft boss so yall can get a small treat of this snippet until i manage to wrangle it))

Sig leaned against a wall in the Slum out of way of foot traffic. Not that it would have mattered. Crowds of Havenites tended to part around big wastelanders with an intimidating cybernetic eye and reputation of working with Krew. Still, his mama didn't raise a rude boy, and he wasn't risking his mission just to bother some skittish, city folk. What he was looking for was too important for that. Meaning, he stood outta the way and tried to not attract unnecessary attention from the KG patrols, whilst he watched both sides of the Slums from the conjoining sector.

If he was lucky, he would be able to meet up with the chili peppers here.

If he was unlucky, it would be the starting point to tracking their actual location down.

The way he saw it there were two ways Jak and Daxter would break Tess and whoever else got rounded up by those Krimson Goons out of the prison. Via seeing it firsthand and word of mouth, Sig knew Jak liked to run in hot. Option one was therefore a loud explosive escape paired with a fast getaway vehicle. Option 1 was a good option. It was the kind of plan Sig missed pulling off himself, and it would see Jak and Daxter coming straight to Sig in no time flat. Option two: transportation rings. Sig did not want it to be option two.

The blue eco powered transporters made for an easy way in and out of locations, and they were damn near untraceable. Unless, someone knew to set up a tracer ahead of time, which was more effort and eco than basically anyone wanted to spend. The Underground was lucky the Baron simply couldn't afford to waste the eco with his little war against the metalheads still ongoing. It was more effective to just set up more soldiers and turrets with that eco and prevent any escape in the first place. Any proper tracer was a pain to set up anyways. They took no less then three proper receivers, and each piece of equipment had to be set in a seperate location to allow triangulation. If the drop-off location was within that net, the receivers would pinpoint the location easily. If it was outside of the net, the triangulation would only give you a rough estimate of the direction and distance. Increasing the size of the net to fix that limitation brought its own issues. Namely, it increased the eco output needed to run. Spargus had set up several nets that could be used, but Sig's own personal one would work fine enough here. He didn't need exact coordinates to a Underground Midpoint or safe house, when he didn't have any excuse to know where to be knocking. He'd still be having to frame it as bumping into the boys randomly. He was just lucky he already knew and was friendly with the duo.

Sig wanted to sigh. Triangulation. Eco Nets. Subterfuge. Bluffs.Who would have thought his life would come to this. He was just lucky his identity in Haven was the simple brute. He was capable of doing this. Damas wouldn't have sent him otherwise, but it was mentally exhausting. Each little lie could be one more complications. Something he had to remember and continue to fake; unless, they were immediately nipped or based off of some truth.

It would be worth it for a chance to see Mar again. It was worth it. He mentally pulled up his big boy pants, but he made a note to himself to blow some frustration on the gun range. It wasn't like him to be the down in the dunes downer.

He would find Mar. He had to. A siren went off in the distance. It was showtime.

#jak and daxter #this fic has hands #im doing my best but sig is making me come up with transportation ring lore #jak #daxter #sig #jak 2 #jnd sig #sig jnd #sig jak and daxter #jnd #my au #my fic

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sparguscityangel · 2 years

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and i’m used to that (but i can get used to this)

I got hit with some Jak/Keira feels recently and I had to write something short and fluffy about my kids ;u; I might upload this to AO3 too, I haven’t decided yet so I’ll post it here. Rated G for because they’re kids and I wanted to write some wholesome teen friendly romance.

Warning: Mentions of physical abuse from Jak’s time in prison.

Title is from Monster by Olivia Olson from Adventure Time: Distant Lands - Obsidian. This whole fic is inspired by that song, it was hard picking which lyric to put aurhgaliurhgaerg

Enjoy!

Rain in Sandover was always cause for melancholy for Keira. It meant staring out her window with her chin in hand and watching the water pour over the village in fat drops. It meant the stench of wet yakkow wafting from the east and soggy straw threatening to collapse above their heads. It meant being unable to meet up with Jak and Daxter as they were forced by their guardians to hunker down indoors. Rain brought depression and loneliness to the village, groans and moans as the denizens scrambled to figure out how to avoid the water from flooding their homes despite the barrier of sand bags plopped at every entrance. Keira always felt the loneliest during those days. It helped having books and inventions to tinker with on rainy days, but it was nothing compared to running barefoot on the beach as the sun bestowed more freckles on her shoulders.

In the last two years, Keira has grown used to the ache in her chest when she thought of all the times she didn’t appreciate Sandover to the fullest capacity, but sitting in her apartment with a hot mug in hand and looking out at the neon lights of Haven reflecting off the rain, she supposes nothing really changes. Not completely anyway. Not without retaining at least something of what once was, a ghost of the past that never really goes away nor would she want it to.

She has a hard time with that, doesn’t she? Change. Everything changed so quickly, she’d barely allowed time to get her bearings before the next shift began and she’s planted again at square one. It happens so suddenly, too. Abruptly and violently, like a balloon popping if left out in the sun for far too long. There’s no warning that it’s about to happen, and you are barely able to move out of the way before … POP. She thinks of all the people she never got to say goodbye to, all the artifacts and technology that were lost once more to the passage of time, to Chompers the plant that withered away to nothingness in her father’s hut as it awaited a caregiver who never returned. She tries not to think about it.

Keira took a sip of her tea. It was lukewarm now, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. The warmth of the mug brought the feeling back into her fingers, so it served its purpose in the end. Despite the warmth combating the chill in her bones, Keira couldn’t find it in herself to go to bed just yet. She knew it was late, and she’d have to get up early in the morning to head back to the garage, but she felt unusually alert. The city, thought active and bright, felt sleepy all around her. She leaned her head against the frame of her window, debating on whether to close the open orifice, when something down below in the street caught her eye.

It moved slowly toward the entrance of the building, casting glances over his shoulder whenever the clanking of armor against armor drew too loud. His head was wrapped with a scarlet scarf, only his darting eyes visible, and his hands were tucked into the pockets of a racing jacket, but Keira would recognize him anywhere. She’d probably recognize him by touch alone if she had too, and then she chastised herself for lying so blatantly even to herself. Precursors, she didn’t even recognize him when he was a shadowed silhouette on her curtain, how could she recognize him by touch alone?

Her intercom buzzed loudly in the quiet apartment, and Keira startled. It was rare that she had a visitor, the sound of her own intercom foreign despite living here for a year and a half. Perhaps, it was also in part that she hadn’t spoken to Jak in over a month, not since he stormed out of her garage after the Class 2 race. She stood up on the second buzz, padding from the window seat straight to her intercom and pressing the button to answer. She held her finger there for a full minute, listening intently to Jak’s breathing on the other end as she willed herself to swallow her pride and speak first.

“Hello?”

“Hi,”

“Hi,” A beat. “Want to come up?”

“Yeah,”

Less than ten words exchanged between them before Jak was inside Keira’s apartment, dripping rainwater onto her rug and staring at the pattern under his boots like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Keira didn’t say anything. Her heart pounded in her throat, anxiety making her mouth feel like cotton. All she could really do was stand opposite of Jak, both avoiding looking at the other. A game of chicken where the first one to speak would lose, only this time it was more serious than trying to shove the other off shoulders and laughing as they splashed wildly in the water.

The drops rolling off Jak were soaking her rug, though, and Keira really liked that rug. Damn it. “You’re soaked,” she sighed, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t flood my apartment,”

Jak raised an eyebrow at her, confusion twisting his face in the darkness before a soft, “Oh,” rolled out of him and he snapped to action to remove his jacket. He toed off the boots as he did so, dropping an inch or two in height. The apartment was dark — the only source of light coming from the neon from the window and the passing of headlights that swept across her furniture like searchlights, but even with limited visibility, she could see the way his tunic stuck to his skin. There was little doubt that the garment was thoroughly soaked. Why wasn’t he taking it off? He was going to catch his death if he kept it on. It wasn’t like her apartment was awfully warm, and even through her thick cardigan, she could feel the late autumn night.

She raised an eyebrow at him, then subsequently blushed when he cleared his throat. Oh, right. Keira cleared her throat. “I’ll, uh … I’ll go see if there’s … um, sorry, the bathroom is right there, help yourself, I’ll just … yeah,” she stammered off, caught between running to her room to bury her face into a pillow with the loudest scream she could muster or jumping out the window with a running start. Thankfully, Jak nearly bolted for the bathroom with a curt nod and she didn’t have to marinate in the awkwardness for long. Once the door closed with a click, she dropped her head in her hands harder than necessary.

It used to be so easy to talk to her best friend. The conversations always flowed so naturally, an endless stream of consciousness about her latest idea and Jak’s newest addition to his bug collection. Somewhere around the time she turned eleven, it was enough just to lay next to him on the dock near the Fisherman’s house and watch the clouds morph over them until the sky grew orange and the dying sun would turn the blue of Jak’s eyes into something akin to honey toned. The first time she noticed it, her breath caught in her throat and her fingers itched to etch the image on paper. It was then she realized that Jak wasn’t just her friend, not like he was an hour prior, but someone else. Her childish brain conflated him alongside the awe of stepping into the Precursor Temple in the Jungle, and she has had trouble separating him from the grandiose mosaics of the Precursors ever since.

It broke her heart when she saw him under the fluorescent lights of the garage and the only word that came to mind was sick. He looked sick. From the pale pallor of his skin to dull irises that seemed to avoid soaking in the light. Everything about him was just … wrong. It was meeting a stranger, another Havenite who walked the streets of the city like reanimated corpses that would continue to wander until they succumbed to their own decay. She wondered if this is how it felt to renounce one’s faith, then she laughed at herself because she would know the feeling well. No Precursor who was benevolent would ever sentence two close friends to this.

She snapped back to the present when the bright high beams of a patrol zoomer blinded her, casting shadows and the monsters that lurked within them over the walls of her apartment. She shoved the past down, and tuned into the present where she was standing in her home, holding dry clothes in her arms. The bathroom door opened a crack and darted toward it quickly, holding the bundle of clothing out in front of her for the other teen to take. “Here. Put these on,” she immediately noticed his eyes widen slightly at the pants, and before he could draw any conclusions, she blurted out, “They’re some generic racing uniform the stadium gives every team that competes. I always tell myself I’m going to donate them, but I keep forgetting. The sweater is mine,”

“Thanks,” he replied, taking the sweater and pants slowly. It was as if he was afraid that the wrong movement would shatter the clothes like glass, that Keira herself would snatch them away from him. When his hand felt the soft fuzz of her favorite sweater, however, she watched as his hand lingered for a moment. Still as the dead, Jak’s fingers twitched and smoothed over the sage tendrils of fluff. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but instead of words, he nodded and shut the door. She tried not to take it personally and retreated to her window seat, leaning back against the wall.

Jak clambered around in the bathroom, no doubt knocking over a few toiletries into the sink. She could hear what sounded like her bar of soap slide in the porcelain basin. How can someone so skilled in fighting discipline be so horrible at moving around an enclosed space, she’ll never know. Jak emerged a few moments later, and lingered around the doorway. He looked ridiculous, and she wanted to tell him so, but the sweater hung off his frame more than she thought it would and the pants were meant for an adult man at least a foot taller than him and all she could think about was how small he looked. She swallowed thickly, clearing her throat to get his attention.

He just stared.

“You know I don’t bite, right?” Keira patted the cushion next to her. He still didn’t move, and she was close to tears then. How did it get so messed up between them? What happened to them where just the idea of being near the other was enough of an issue to cause pause and reflection?

In the neon light, Jak’s face was visible for the first time since he stepped foot in the apartment. His cheek was bruised with nauseating yellow and sharp purple, and his lip was scabbed from a cut. The injured looked a few days old, and it didn’t take a genius to notice how the map of destruction was about the same length as the butt of a Krimzon Guard stun baton. His hair was still wet from his trek in the rain, but the ends started to curl in loose ringlets and waves around his shoulders as it dried. Eventually, the golden boy of Sandover sighed heavily and sank down next to her, keeping his eyes trained on the ground between his bare feet.

Though his back was to the open window, Keira could still make out the set of his jaw, frown lines permanently etched into his face. Despite it all, he was still a sight for sore eyes, and one she missed more than she realized until now.

“No Daxter?” she asked, testing the waters between them. Jak shrugged a shoulder, his elbows no doubt digging painfully into his thighs as he leaned forward.

“He’s with Tess,” he said flatly, “Something about date night. I don’t know, I didn’t really ask,”

Keira nodded and hummed in understanding, though she knew she was stalling on what she really wanted to ask. She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth before the curiosity overwhelmed her. “So I’m what? Your last resort?”

Another shrug. “I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. I was going for a walk and then I ended up here, so I figured …” he tensed, wound up like a spring loaded toy that was ready to pop at any given moment. He sighed, but his shoulders remained hunched. “Forget it. Thanks for the dry clothes. I’ll just get out of your hair,” Jak moved to get up, but Keira has known him longer than anyone, and her hand darted out to tug at his sleeve. He paused halfway, turning his attention to her hand.

“Don’t go,” she swallowed, “It’s pouring outside. Just stay here,”

“Keira …”

“Please? I missed you,”That seemed to have struck a chord with him. His body deflated, letting her guide him back to the cushion they were sharing only moments before. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it … like that. I just thought you didn’t want to see me after … you know,”

Jak was always a terrible liar. He couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, and although he could get away with batting his eyes and smiling slyly at the adults, there was only so much he could feign. It was evident when he cleared his throat, obviously trying to hide the way he had a visible reaction to her bringing up their argument in the garage.

It was nasty. That’s the only word she can think of to encapsulate the entire interaction. It was nasty, and she felt grimy every time she found herself replaying the conversation in her mind like an echo chamber of her Top Five Most Embarrassing Moments. Jak must’ve felt the same, because he leaned back until the back of his head to meet the vertical metal slats of her window.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, but he wouldn’t look at her. He hasn’t looked at her since he arrived, and it shattered her heart. Never in a million years did she ever think there would be a time where they were sitting so close to each other, yet still miles apart.

“No, it’s not,” She shook her head, moving to place a hand on his shoulder, but he dodged the touch like it was a branding. She deserved that. She folded her hands back into her lap, picking at her cuticles as she searched for the right words. It was nearly impossible to figure out how to start, but she owed it to Jak to at least explain her actions. He was entitled to that. “I hurt you. I wish I could say that I didn’t mean to, but I don’t want to lie to you. In the moment, yeah, I wanted to hurt you for … I don’t know. I was hurting, and I guess I didn’t want to be the only one,” she heard Jak scoff under his breath, and at any other time, it would’ve made her fly off the handle, but this time she scoffed alongside him. “Point is, I shouldn’t have treated you like you were some kind of thug. We all have to do some pretty crappy things to survive, and if working for Krew helps you and Daxter stay afloat, it’s really not my place to belittle you for that,”

Jak ran his hand through his hair, bushing back the long strands that fell over his face. It was then she realized that he was completely dressed down. His goggles were gone, and his faithful right pauldron was nowhere to be found. There was nothing hard about him, nothing to shield him. Jak was completely vulnerable in front of her. She dug her thumb into her palm, pressing her nail deep to avoid reaching out to see if the invisible barrier between them was still in place.

“It wasn’t really the Krew stuff that upset me,” Jak started, hesitant and shaky, “I’ve made my peace with being a hired gun. It’s not like I have much of a choice, but I do wish you let me explain,” he swallowed, “It … Keira, Erol is bad news. I should’ve explained myself, but whenever he’s around, I can’t … think straight. Everything gets hazy and my chest feels tight. I was terrified when I saw him in your garage. You have no idea what he’s capable of,”

Keira took a deep breath. She figured it would come back to Erol one way or another. It was strange having two men she was attracted to pointing fingers at the other, spewing slander of the other and then asking her to make a decision on their character from hearsay alone. What she knew for certain was that one was lying and one was telling the truth. “I know he’s the Commander of the Krimzon Guard. I know he helped me a lot those few months I was in Haven. I had nowhere to go, I don’t know what had happened to you and Daxter and daddy. All I knew was that I was alone and scared and cold and hungry and Erol was there for me,” Jak nodded, but Keira could tell he was elsewhere right now. She pressed on, “I also know he hurt you,” He snapped to look at her, and if it wasn’t for the circumstance, she thinks her heart might’ve melted. He was woefully beautiful, like a doomed prince in a tragedy. All pain and sorrow intersected with the holy burden of being so appealing that makes onlookers refuse to look away. Her mouth dried up and she had to swallow. “Daxter mentioned the Baron and eco … at first I didn’t really register it until Erol came by the garage after you left and told me about you,”

“What did he say?” “That you were dangerous. I don’t think he knows we grew up together because he just went on and on about how you were arrested for kicking crocapuppies or something equally as stupid. He said he tried to … rehabilitate you, but you were too evil to change. I thought, ‘He can’t be talking about the same Jak. Whoever he was describing sounded like a villain in a fairytale.’” She chuckled humorlessly. “I’m not going to apologize for trusting him. But I am sorry for trusting him more than I trusted you,”

Jak pursed his lips. He was concentrating hard at the spot near Keira’s ear, on the wall behind her. She almost turned to look, but his eyes slid back into focus and they darted to look into hers. Chills ran down her spine. “Rehabilitate. Fucking bullshit,” he smirked, but Keira noticed it was off. His canines were too sharp, his smile didn’t reach his eyes, and it looked more like he was baring his teeth. Her heart seized a bit, but not in a bad way. Her cheeks grew warm and her palms sweaty, and she had to look away from him. “He made my life a living hell for two years. Still is. I can’t go a single day without seeing his ugly mug plastered somewhere and reliving the shit he put me thought,”

Keira opened her mouth, but the tremors in his hands told her that this needed to happen. He needed to get this off his chest, and if he needed her to be the one he offloaded this too, she’ll gladly accept it. It felt good being near him again. If he wanted her to sit while he screamed at the stars and waged holy war with the Precursors, then she'd sprout roots and dig far deep into the earth. She folded her legs in front of her and laid her chin in her palm, keeping her face neutral as Jak grit his teeth. “It wasn’t enough that they’d pump me full of dark eco for him. He wanted to watch them do it. He’d stand there and watch them strap me down and he’d flip the damn switch to the Halo. And when that novelty wore off, that’s when he’d drag me into The Room,” he paused, Adam’s apple bobbing as he chewed on his words carefully. When he started again, it was slower, more calculated. “He beat me. Every single day for two years, he’d use me as his own sadistic plaything. I knew he wanted me to beg him to stop, but I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. I’d rather he kill me than to ever give him what he wanted. I told myself that I wasn’t going to let him change me, that he couldn’t take who I was away from me, but every time that door closed I lost parts of me that I’ll never get back,” he blinked, “Seeing him in your garage … I thought he did something to you. I thought he found out about you somehow and hurt you. Then you said he was the best racer you’ve ever seen and something in me just … broke. He broke me, but you, Keira? You made me unfixable,”

Keira couldn’t argue with that. What can she say? She couldn’t deny Jak that feeling of betrayal. He’s been denied so much as it was already, she wasn’t going to be the one to invalidate those feelings. She couldn’t scream and cry like a victim, twist the situation so that Jak was in the wrong because he wasn’t. She should’ve trusted him from the beginning, and cut ties with Erol the moment he even mentioned that he was someone who couldn’t be trusted. A part of her wanted to pipe up that she didn’t know about Erol’s cruelty, but the other part of her knew that was a lie. She hadn’t seen it first hand, but she heard the way he spoke to his racing rivals. The way he’d seethe and demand rematches whenever someone beat his score, the amount of times something heavy got flung in the general direction of a cocky racer that rubbed Erol the wrong way. She saw the bloody knuckles and wild look in his eyes, and because she was too scared to lose her only friend and reliable client, she looked the other way. She was no better than Erol, who stood by and watched as her best friend was tortured within an inch of his life.

No words came to mind. There was no way she could remedy this quickly enough, but Jak’s hand was shaking violently and curled up so tight that she could see the veins and tendons jump out. It looked painful. She didn’t want him to hurt anymore.

She laid her hand over his, telegraphing the movement slowly. When Jak didn’t flinch away again, she took the fist in both hands. He was cold to the touch. She wondered if her hands felt like a branding against his own, a mark of the Baron’s crest on the inside of his wrist telling her that he must know the feeling all too well. She dug her fingers into where his own met his palm, releasing his grip. Crescent moon indents formed a line in the middle, and she rubbed her thumbs in unison against them until they faded away to nothing. He was real in her hands. There was flesh, and blood, and bone, and a heartbeat, and life. He was right here, right next to her in her apartment, and he was real. Her ghost had returned to her alive.

She held his hand in hers. She was in her apartment in Main Town, she was sitting on a cliff on her fourteenth birthday, she was standing on the top of a Citadel — she was participating that was happening at different points of her life in the past and each time she held Jak’s hand, it felt like the very first time. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’ll never stop apologizing, not even if you decide to forgive me. And I’m sorry, but that’s so not true,” Jak stilled, his hand twitched in hers and she knew he was going to try and pull away, but she squeezed his even tighter to keep him put. “You’re not broken. You’re here, completely intact, with me. There’s nothing to fix,”

“You don’t know that,” he said, “I’m not that kid you grew up with anymore. He died in prison, Keira. I’m just what’s left of him,”

Keira looked down at their hands. “I don’t believe that. I think you’re still you, just … different. Even if we didn’t go through the Rift, you weren’t going to stay fifteen forever. That’s just not practical. Scientifically speaking, we’re constantly evolving. We mature, we regress, we grow up. It’s not fair to yourself to expect to stay the same when it’s natural to not even be the same person we were a month ago. And yet …” she traced his nail beds with her other hand, and smiled when she made out the scar on his middle finger from when Jak tried to pet a wild Lurkerpuppy. “See this?” she held their hands up, “This is still you. This is the same hand you used to bring the Sculptor’s muse back to him. Your bones, your eyes, your feet, your heart — they’re still all here. Despite everything, you’re still you,”

“I can’t be what you want me to be,”

“I won’t want you to be anything,” Keira spat, twisting her face in mock disgust. “Did I like you when you were fifteen and non-verbal? Yeah. Do I like you now that you’re seventeen and a bad boy? Hell yeah,”

Jak chuckled, and when Keira looked up, she found him smiling at her. A genuine one. Not the strained one he gives out at racing matches or the baring of teeth he does when Krew calls him. This was the smile that made her first realize that she would do unspeakably embarrassing things to see more of. It was all teeth and sunshine. “You like me, huh?”

“If you’re just figuring that out now, then you’re either the most oblivious guy on the planet or you’re tied with Daxter for the most gullible,”

“I can’t give you what you want, you know,” he muttered, “I’m not ready for that,”

Keira nodded. There was still so much to work on between them. Tonight they were able to pluck off enough bricks from the wall that separated them to see the other, but there were still many more to go. It’ll be exhausting, and they’ll be covered in dust and sweat, but at least they would be dismantling it rather than building onto it. Sometimes, that’s all one can really hope for. And that was enough for her. “You know what I want right now?” she asked, and when Jak shook his head, she answered it for him, “I want to be a kid,”

“You just had a whole speech about not being kids anymore,”

“No, no. I just had a whole speech about not staying kids anymore. I want us to be kids. Precursors, Jak, we’re teenagers,”

“I’d make the argument that I’m mentally at least thirty years old at this point,”

“That’s the first joke I’ve ever heard you make and it’s not even funny,” she groaned, hearing her friend laugh, “I’m serious! We went from being barefoot kids and straight to adulthood. We didn’t even get the chance to be our own age,”

“Okay, how do you suggest we do that? What do teenagers even do?” Jak frowned as he thought of his own question. It was a good question. Keira didn’t even know what she meant by ‘being a teenager’ but she knew it meant being carefree. She knew it was a pinnacle age where the fancies of childhood and the pains of adulthood intersected. She knew that she, Jak, Tess, and Daxter all apparently skipped that transition altogether and headed straight for becoming a young adult. Teenagers weren’t supposed to have their own apartments yet, nor were they supposed to be running around the city doing errands for a known crime boss. They were supposed to be doing something stupid. Looking out the window, Keira was instantly struck with the perfect idea.

“Come on,” she smiled, leaping off the bench and pulling the hero toward the front door. Jak followed suit, his eyebrow raised in quiet suspicion. He didn’t say anything until they were running down the stairs of the complex, barefeet echoing loudly in the corridors as Keira practically sprinted for the entrance.

“Where are we going?” he asked quietly, the question dissipating the moment Keira pushed the heavy door open. The rain hadn’t let up at all since Jak first arrived, pouring various waterfalls from atop the awning above the door. The two teens stood under it, holding hands and gazing up at the dark rain clouds overhead. The neon lights of the city were fuzzy and bright in contract, reflecting off the puddles on the street by their feet. Keira smiled up at Jak, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She didn’t have to say it. They’ve known each other since they were old enough to remember, they could read the other like a book. Everything and anything the other wanted to know was there for the taking.

Keira didn’t give a warning other than a hand squeeze before she was yanking the blond teen toward the open road. The city had officially gone to sleep, and they were claiming it for themselves as the inhabitants dreamed. The rain pelted down on her head, soaking her hair and sticking her cardigan to her skin. She let go of Jak’s hand, throwing her hands to the rain and basked in the storm. She goes back to egg Jak to dance with her, not caring that her movements aren’t the most fluid and there was no music to get the rhythm of. She jumped and waved her arms and swayed her hips and laughed when her best friend joined her, pulling her close.

In a couple hours, the Krimzon Guard would be back on patrol and Jak would leave her apartment before daybreak to avoid being recognized. In a week from now, Keira would be standing on a zeppelin next to the Rift Rider she’s been working on for years as she watched her best friend shrink in the distance, praying to Gods she no longer believed in that this won’t be the final time she sees him. A year and a half from now, they’ll meet again with a magnetic barrier between them, realizing that they had officially crossed the threshold into adulthood without the other and be torn apart again in a bittersweet reunion where Keira will realize that Jak belonged out in the Wasteland with his new family. She won’t be there when Jak discovers he’s the lost heir to the city, nor will she be there as he breaks apart holding his father’s dead body in his arms. He won’t be there when Keira is put on trial for her involvement in aiding a banished man reenter the city nor will he be there when she finally severs all ties to her father after his transgressions come to light. They’ll be torn apart and reunited over and over again until the sun explodes in the sky and engulfs the planet into flames. They’ll still fight, and they’ll still hold grudges, and they’ll go to bed angry at the other.

When it would rain, from now on, Keira would think of this moment, and of them, and feel nothing but love and happiness. This precious moment that will remain perfect and untouched in time forever. A moment where Jak and Keira dance without abandon in the rain, pretending they are the only two people left with a whole city at their fingertips. Keira will throw her head back to laugh, and Jak’s hand will be pressed against her back. He’ll hold her hand high above his head and she’ll twirl, wet hair sticking to her face and neck as she almost slips on the wet concrete. Jak’s eyes will glow an electrifying blue in the neon lights and lightning, and Keira will realize that she liked it almost more than she liked the golden blue.

For now, they were young and in love, and that was enough for them.

#jak and daxter #jak/keira #jakxkeira #keira hagai #fanfic #snippet #angel's fic #<- my fic tag ig ailurghaliurgh #jnd

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