#jnd fic

[aces-to-apples]

Fic Self-Recs

Fic authors self rec! List your favorite five fics that you've written, then tag at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

Tagged by @dead-cowboy!

It's crazy just how many of these bastards I have published under my own names and yet wouldn't recommend someone read with a gun to my head lol. Also I went with six so I could include one from my SourFacedLemon account:

i. hold it in your mouth for a minute (real hunger has a real taste) (Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Glitch/Savage Opress, Explicit)

From the inaugural year of Smut Wars, this actually holds up pretty decently. Takes place vaguely within the Season 5 Crime Lords arc because that must have taken months to accomplish and the visual of Savage and Maul desperately trying to get along with Death Watch for that long amuses me. Included some thoughts about Nightbrothers and clones that I don't usually get to explore since Maul isn't, you know, culturally a Nightbrother. Also I reject the cultural obsession with dick size, I hate it, Savage is the embodiment of "small, leave me alone" and I'll die on that hill. Also also, Glitch is here! He's sweet! He's Force-sensitive! The narrative is in love with him and wants him to live and thrive! It's me, I'm the narrative!

ii. self/less (Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Maulsoka, Teen)

Older, and imperfect, but I had a good time with it. This fic has everything: the unhinged Maul-Ahsoka team-up that a Star Wars What If series should explore, Maul being traumatized and terrified and not hiding it well, genderfuckery, two forms of mind-control, the Son and the Daughter escaping Mortis because what do you mean they're just dead now??, Jesse surviving... Short and sweet and well beyond my writing skills to fully flesh out, but I genuinely think there's a decent premise buried in there.

iii. a beast within you (Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Maulrex, Explicit)

Also notably imperfect, but another 2023 Smut Wars gift and I spent so much time trying to research octopi and tentacles without actually consuming any tentacle porn, and I want that effort acknowledged. It's a vague Percy Jackson fusion AU, if that's any more enticing. And if you get to the end there's links to some beautiful fucking fanart someone (@omaano) made of it!

iv. pretty (handy with that iron) (Jak and Daxter, Jak/Jinx, Teen)

Transmasculine!Jak who not only has terrible taste in men (Jinx) but also has a vaguely-emasculating-pet-names-induced gender crisis during the sewers escort mission and Daxter doesn't get to rest for a single second. Idk I was feeling silly with this one. It was fun to write and I actually don't regret it lol.

v. all restraint and poised bones (Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Maulakin, Teen)

I just love a confused Maul POV in general and also an outsider POV on time travel. It's just so much fun for me personally. Also I know it's because that's the way the timeline shakes out but the fact that Anakin missed meeting Maul and all that that entails by like two hours is as ridiculous to me as the Grievous thing; their unhinged chaotic goblin energies would have bounced off each other and created a feedback loop that would give Sidious a heart attack, so I understand why it never happened. But still.

bonus vi (and vii and viii). The Expansion of Clan Mudhorn (The Mandalorian, Djarin/Leia/Boba, Teen)

I have written non-TCW, non-Maul related Star Wars fics, as difficult as it is to believe. These ones are also silly, and strangely fluffy compared to most of my other content, but it was 2021! Mando S2 had just ended, we had canonical Tem-as-Boba-Fett and were all so excited and optimistic, it was a different time! Honestly my only regret is that I haven't thought until just now to go back and edit them to fix Djarin's name. Everyone is surnaming this poor man who misses his baby so, so much, you guys, that's tragic lmao.

No pressure tagging @hawthornsword @hjbender @darthlivion @mandalorianbrainweasel @inqorporeal and anyone who sees this and wants to play!

[troblsomtwins829]

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet (or chapter?) Thursday

Viper: Exodus

Jak, now a captain in Spargus's infiltration division, has been gathering people who have helped them in the past, and Daxter has convinced whole sections of the slums to trust the Wastelanders over the Grand Council. (LONG post warning, it's basically a whole chapter)

240 people crowded around the narrow road in front of the Naughty Ottsel, murmuring nervously to each other. They had been slowly preparing for this night for weeks -- hardly enough time to uproot an entire life. But then, many of them had been uprooted already. Many carried young children, only recently reunited with their families after Praxis's mass kidnapping orders during his hunt for Mar. They varied between terrified silence and hungry wailing as the people waited for their chosen leader to arrive.

It had been a difficult, and at times acrimonious, task choosing someone to lead them once beyond the walls for good. Fifty people had withdrawn from the evacuation entirely when a Lurker was ultimately chosen. But Brutter had lived among the people of the Water Slums for years. They knew him. They trusted him.

His deputy, the blonde barmaid from the pub, seemed like an odd choice at first. But as preparations progressed, it became clear that Tess had a way with people -- and with weapons. Her confidence put them all at ease.

The murmurs quieted when Tess appeared with Brutter, Jak, and Daxter. More people gathered in the pub doorway behind them to watch, but it was clear that they were on team "leaving Haven is mutiny or cowardice".

"This is everyone?" Brutter called, furrowing his fuzzy brow. "Water Slum friends?"

"Here!" One of his former neighbors called, waving from a section of the crowd.

"Good! Saltpeter Row?"

The inhabitants of the row houses made varying sounds of acknowledgement, and Brutter nodded, continuing to call out the names of streets who had agreed to join the secession.

"Morgan street!"

"Redcap Row!"

"Shark Flats!"

"4th Street!"

Only a few groups were unaccounted for in the end, though this wasn't as much of a surprise as expected. They'd known from the beginning that some would probably back out when it was time to go. Better the devil they knew than the one they didn't. But everyone else had shown up.

They shuffled restlessly, meager belongings in carts or on their backs, and waited to find out what was going to happen. Surely they weren't all going to walk to the abandoned temple!

Brutter nodded to Jak, and the boy stepped forward and raised his voice.

"Okay! Here's what's going to happen! Anyone with small kids or trouble walking is going to take the air train to the foot of the mountains. The Babak are waiting with balloons to get you to the temple. It's going to take a few trips, so don't crowd. You'll all get there, I promise."

Daxter took over as soon as Jak finished.

"Everybody else: we're formin' a convoy of four groups! If you know how to fight, yer on the outside of the column. If you don't, stay in the middle! We're gonna stop for breaks sometimes, but we're hiking straight through the Industrial Sector, folks. It's gonna be a good hour or two before we get everyone into the Power Station teleport ring."

Jak nodded and pointed left in the direction they'd be heading. "Tess will be leading Group 1 with the gyro-burster to clear out any threats ahead of us. Jinx is taking Group 2. Group 3, you're with Mogg and Grim. Everyone else, you're with me. For now, everyone with kids move to the right."

The shuffle was tedious, and it was close to ten minutes before everyone was divided into the five groups. The thirty-five people with elderly, children, and mobility issues huddled together as the rest split into crowds of roughly fifty each. Even fifty civilians was a massive number to protect from Deathbots and metalheads. Tess and Jak shot each other grim looks, each worrying about the same thing:

How many people were they going to lose on their way to the power station?

"I'm coming too!"

Jak turned to see Keira pulling her arm free of Samos's grip. His heart leapt: he'd hoped against hope that she would flee the city with them. That she would wrench herself out from under the sage's thumb.

"Keira, no!" Samos gasped, "This is madness!”

He turned a stern look to Jak. "This has gone too far, Jak! You are out of control!"

"Out of your control," Daxter corrected sharply, "That's what you mean, right?"

"You're leading these people to their deaths! I will not allow my daughter to be one of them!" Samos snapped.

Jak felt nerves crawl up his throat. He wanted to vomit. It didn't matter how confident he was as a Captain of Spargus, Samos had programmed his behavior for years and standing up to him was hard.

He swallowed back bile and cleared the trepidation from his throat.

"You didn't have a problem sending someone else's kid into hell for your own gain. You're not doing yourself any favors by waiting until now to have a problem with it."

Keira gestured to him. "See? Thank you, Jak."

"Keira, that's enough," said Samos sternly, "I know it seems harsh to you, but someday you will understand that I am simply doing what is best for you!"

"No, I'm doing what's best for me," Keira retorted, "I'm helping people."

"Keira, I forbid you to step out that door!" the sage cried in a panic.

Keira swung a bag up onto her shoulder.

"I'm no good to anyone in a gilded cage, kept out of danger. And you have no right to fight about it after what you put the boys through."

"Of course I have a right! You're my daughter!"

Keira set her jaw. She closed her eyes and took in a long, shaky breath. Then she stepped out the door.

"Goodbye, Daddy."

Tess squeezed her shoulder as she passed them to gather her platoon. "Hang in there, kiddo," she murmured.

Brutter also eyed her with sympathy as he followed.

"Let us go, friends!" He loudly croaked, "Before we are losing the moonlight!"

Jak frowned thoughtfully. "You got a gun?" he asked Keira quietly.

She shook her head, still trembling with the same adrenaline he felt.

"N-no. But I've got some EMP grenades I've been working on. In case of bots."

Jak's eyebrows rose, and he grinned. "Can't wait to see 'em."

"Yeah well. You probably won't have to.”

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

Two days after the exodus

"I hooked the generator up to the temple, so we should have working shields in a day or two." Keira collapsed onto the ledge beside Jak, utterly exhausted.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and dropped an impulsive kiss onto the crown of her head. "You're a miracle worker, you know that?"

The butterflies in Keira's stomach made an unwelcome encore appearance, beating their little wings to fan heat up into her cheeks. She liked this new Jak. He was more open with his feelings. Braver about touch. But Precursors if it wasn't an adjustment!

Still. She needed the comfort just now. Keira had just uprooted…everything, for the second time in her young life. She'd walked away from her own father, and no matter how justified she knew it was, it still hurt. She felt small, and lost, in a world far too large for her. Had she really stopped to fully count the cost of joining the formation of the refugee village?

Yes. She had. Keira forced her mind away from the betrayal in her father's eyes, back to the joy that was in Jak’s eyes when he whispered to her that he'd found freedom.

"I don't feel like a miracle worker," she confessed after a few minutes, "I feel like a fraud. I'm- I'm just shy of completely overwhelmed. We have almost nothing, and if Haven decides they don't like us being up here, I don't know how long my shields will even work. Why are they looking to me for all the solutions? Why not Brutter, or Tess?"

Jak made a sympathetic noise. "Yeah...I know how that feels. But apparently sixteen is "too young" to be carrying that kind of responsibility on your shoulders. So. I dunno, take it easy on yourself, I guess?"

Keira rested her head on Jak’s shoulder with a soft hmph, and noted with some amusement that she could hear how fast his heart was beating. Lucky for them Jak had already been in battle that day, clearing out the last metalheads, and had no more eco to react to the adrenaline. Dark Jak was much more snuggly than regular Jak, and much denser in mass, which made it fairly problematic if he happened to doze off while resting against her.

“Kee, I-”

Jak swallowed hard.

“I have to- we need- Mountain Clan is going to join the Wasteland Federation. You- everyone is going to have to get used to a new set of laws. A new. A new king.”

Keira winced. She'd had enough of overbearing authority figures.

“It's going to be…interesting,” she said begrudgingly.

“I have to report to him.” Jak sounded like he was trying to sound her out, gauge her reaction.

“I was going to call him tonight, actually. I just…I guess, don't freak out if he…when he gets here.”

Here? Keira sat up to look Jak in the eye.

“This king person is coming here?”

The buzz of the crickets down the slope seemed to rise, drowning out her thoughts. In a way, she'd known it had to be coming. Jak and Daxter wouldn't have been so insistent on evacuation if there wasn't actually a war coming. It just hadn't felt real.

She looked down at the tents and rudimentary huts their people -- Precursors, she had people now -- had spent the last two days setting up along the hill. So many people who couldn't fight, or wouldn't. If the Wastelanders really were a warrior people, would this king even accept them?

“He has to, Keira. Even if Haven hadn't-” Jak tensed, and a low anger rippled below his words. “Even if they hadn't tried to assassinate him, Damas would still have to come out here. He's the current head of the Federation, and all clans have to send representatives when someone threatens the whole.”

Leave it to Jak to speak of someone with that much power as casually as he spoke about Daxter.

“You all just call him by his name?”

Jak shrugged, and the grin he offered was a little sheepish. “Not to his face. Unless you're me, or Sig. Daxter could, he just likes to call him Spikes or King Lunatic instead. Damas doesn't mind.”

“Spikes?” Keira felt her eyebrows go up. "King Lunatic?!"

“You'll see when he gets here.”

Jak was entirely too calm about that. Keira grimaced, but reasoned that if he was more relaxed now than he was when talking about Ashelin or Samos, that had to be a promising sign, right?

“He um. He sounds…tough,” the girl said, gingerly searching for words. “Is…Is he-”

Keira gave up beating about the bush and decided to just ask the question honestly.

“Jak, you talk about him like you actually trust him. Do you?”

“With my life,” Jak answered, simply and openly.

“And I'd trust him with all of those people down there, more importantly. I'd trust him with Daxter’s life. With yours.”

What could she say to that? Even when they'd been little kids, when they had foolishly trusted Samos to have their best interests at heart, Jak hadn't trusted him around Daxter. And after the…the prison, Daxter was probably the only person Jak truly trusted. For some warrior king of a nation of Sigs to have earned Jak's faith so completely was hard to believe. Almost as hard to take as the respect in Jak’s voice when he so much as mentioned this man.

Who was this King Damas, and what had he done to make Jak of all people so devoted to him and his cause? And more importantly in Keira's mind, did he deserve Jak's loyalty?

“You look up to this guy,” she realized.

And Jak laughed. He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked embarrassed, and laughed.

“Yeah…I mean, I…yeah…he's kind of my hero.”

He covered his face abruptly as his ears burned scarlet.

“Don't you dare tell him I said that.”

“Oh right, because I'd totally get a chance to have a casual conversation with a king and squeal on you.” Keira rolled her eyes.

“If he's as cool as you think he is, maybe he already knows, anyway.”

“No!” Jak groaned, “Don't say that, I have an image to keep up!”

Keira cracked a smile and settled her head back onto Jak’s shoulder. His arm slipped around her waist, and she felt his cheek rest against her hair. An innocent closeness neither of them had felt in too many years, shared for a moment at the beginning of something new and a little frightening.

“When do you think your king will get here?”

Jak grinned into Keira's hair. She'd stopped calling Damas “this king”. The simple acknowledgement of how important he was to Jak felt a lot more validating than he'd anticipated.

“If I call him tonight, I'd say tomorrow evening at the latest. It's only about five hours from here to home by air train.”

Considering the commotion at dawn, when some hut building efforts were abandoned in favor of clearing a landing strip, Keira had her suspicions that the Wastelanders were already on their way before Jak ever placed that hushed and enthusiastic call.

“Clear the field!” Grim waved his arms wildly, scattering refugees into tents and back onto the rope bridge the Babak had built into the temple. “Make some room, everybody!”

Jak was out of his tent with Daxter on his shoulder before the craft had even begun its final approach. He darted to the edge of the makeshift runway and just waited. Brutter opened the door of his hut with a surprised croak, and Tess was already loosening her gun in her holster. Just in case.

There was a pit in Keira's stomach as she joined the people watching the air train land. This was it. Judgement Day.

Out of the air train seven heavily armored Wastelanders practically sauntered, six taking guard positions in a semicircle while the seventh strolled right up to where Jak stood ramrod straight.

It was unnatural, seeing Jak like that. Even more so seeing Daxter in the same attentive posture on his shoulder. Keira watched them nervously for cues.

Jak spoke about the leader of the Wastelander Federation like he was this great hero. Like he idolized the man. Keira suspected she'd get a better read on this new authority figure by observing how he spoke to the boys -- if he spoke to them directly at all.

The king of the desert was an imposing man wielding an elaborate staff. He didn't look like the type to suffer fools gladly. Keira watched his eyes sweep across the huts and lean-tos covering the slopes leading to the temple. They had already constructed fifteen small houses in the style of Sandover Village, and Vin and Keira had just finished setting up a basic eco grid for power. Was it good enough?

"By the forges boys!" The Wasteland king suddenly laughed aloud. "When you said you could find allies in the city, I thought you meant five or six, not an entire village!"

He clapped a hand to Jak’s unoccupied shoulder in a gesture Keira recognized -- with her share of bittersweet longing -- as pride.

"Welcome to Mountain Clan, sir," Jak answered, just as proud.

So. Jak wasn't exaggerating his admiration for this man. Not that Keira had thought he would. Jak wasn't prone to exaggeration and hyperbole. And while he still stood smartly at attention, if Keira looked closely she could see her friend practically vibrating with excitement. He behaved like a soldier -- the soldier Haven always wanted but could never have -- and yet at the same time he reminded Keira of nothing as much as a little boy whose parent had finally come home from a long journey.

That thought stuck in her mind as Brutter and Tess approached.

To her shock -- and the shock of the boys -- the Babak let out a jubilant cry when he recognized the man in armor.

"Brother Damas!" he trumpeted, catching the attention of the other Lurkers helping in the new village.

"Brother Damas lives! Our hearts are full!"

Damas looked taken aback for a moment, then a smile creased his weatherbeaten face and he reached out to clasp Brutter's forearm.

"You-! I remember you! It's been a long time, Bluefeather."

"Too long," Brutter croaked.

"Are your people safe?" Damas frowned. "I'm- I'm sorry. One operative wasn't enough to help free them. It was a poor repayment for the way you supported my family during the coup."

Sadly, the Babak leader shook his head. "We Lurkers were not saving your friends, Brother. We could not stop the executing after you exiled. Always my elders feel they failed you."

Damas squeezed the Lurker's thick forearm with an earnest expression. "You failed no one, Brother. Welcome to the Federation."

Beside them, Jak's face went from confusion to wonder to a barely restrained glee. Damas had organized the abolition efforts? That meant Jak had been working for Damas long before he ever heard the man's name! He exchanged excited looks with Daxter. This went beyond best case scenario for them. Their honorary tribe and their adopted people were now united.

"Now then!" Damas turned on his heel to raise an amused eyebrow at Jak.

"I've been getting extremely detailed reports from you, Captain. Come! Walk me through what you're doing up here!"

Jak practically scrambled to follow him, an almost silly grin stamped across his face. It made Keira's heart ache to realize she hadn't seen that smile since Sandover. Brutter broke into her thoughts with a gurgling chuckle.

"Once king, always king," he said fondly. "Brutter did not know he had offspring! Jak is very good son. Very loyal."

Keira jolted. "Offspring?! What do you mean?!"

Brutter looked confused, as though he thought his observation was obvious.

[twistedvines]

Woah, more of my Jak and Daxter ocs

and some bonus Metal Zender model progress :)

Some of these are a bit old + I tried drawing them in the jnd concept art style <3

[hecketernal]

Everyone Thinks Jak Is Dying AU (Aka everyone miscommunicates to some pretty ridiculous and angsty levels but Jak's totally fine) ((pls read I swear I still have some comfort with this hurt some funny with the tragedy pls hear me out))

Explanation: I had had this weird impression that Jak was flat out dying from dark eco poisoning, when I was a kid. It seems kid me had made some assumptions from listening to Baron Praxis' propaganda stations where he flat out says, "The dark eco inside you will eventually kill you, Jak," and the way Jak first reacted to getting light eco.

Everyone else seemed to die in the Dark Warrior Project. Hell, they flat out acknowledge Jak should be dead himself from the amount of dark eco pumped into him. Even if a slow death via eco poisoning isn't what the games were going for, it would still make sense lorewise. The game will insta kill you for falling into the stuff.

Buuuuut for a moment just consider...applying that misconception to Damas and Jak's growing paternal bond.

Jak, in his freshly betrayed wariness, decides to hide his dark eco abilities. He's tired. He can't trust anyone except for Daxter, but Daxter is The Exception in capital letters and everything. Jak has found a force he can't or isn't equipped to beat within the long, hot stretch of the desert with no Keira to build a contraption to get them out. He doesn't even know... if Keira cares enough to build some zoomer with a heat shield or whatever would come to her mechanical mind for them anymore. None of his "allies" spoke up very loudly to defend Jak, so Jak stashes his otherness away. Well, he hides it to the best of his abilities. He'll never be a spy, but he can manage a few marauders in some Arena of Death with just a gun and some effort. Transforming had always been last resort anyways. With fear from his betrayal instead of anger leading him, he never transforms in front of all of Spargus to see. He's doesn't want to be Baron Praxis' renegade weapon, the man made monster that slipped its leash. He wants a moment without that. He can't go back to the kid from Sandover. He doesn't want to, but the idea of being just another exile like everyone else is...heady.

Jak doesn't know that he can't hide what's already been seen. Dark eco scars are distinctive, and Jak's were very visible during his stint with unconsciousness and heatstroke. The monks had attended to the two boys, but they had not done so silently. Precursor monks did not care to censor their muttering about dark eco corruption. Their prayers for salvation or less pain for the boy were easily overheard by the alert King of Spargus. It's likewise impossible to hide the way dark eco skitters towards Jak. The way it sinks into his skin. The way his pallor goes white. His face pained. The way the newest recruit sometimes clutches an arm, angling it away from view. Jak does manage to hide the growing claws with this action, so good for him. Bad for Damas.

Damas is under the impression that Jak is dying. Dark eco poisoning is an unpleasant but often inescapable death sentence for even the strongest warriors. He's known good Wastelanders that had to be buried after just a brush with the energy. It might be slow with this new recruit, but it will come all the same. Won't it? Damas tries his best to remain distant. His heart has already been shattered from the loss of one child, but it seems those broken shards are destined to break a little more. Jak is so damningly earnest for someone who tries to act jaded and tough. Damas can't remain distant. Every wall Damas builds is blasted away by the young warrior's newest actions. Damas is doing his best to hold himself together, but inside he is a mess. He doesn't want to lose another son. When Jak spoke of not knowing his father, Damas realized there was one thought more agonizing than losing another son, a lonely son dying fatherless. It catalyzes the father for he cannot stop thinking of himself as anything but a father. Isn't this what he always told himself he would do anything for? Another moment with his child? Damas will not squander the time they have left. Besides, the desert is rough and fickle, and violent death has come for all of Spargus' other kings. He might worry for naught. His death might come for him sooner than Jak's.

[sparguscityangel]

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

[adhdavinci]

I'd like to know more about "Ottserrol"

ok so. look at this dude.

[raucous laughter]

i have a fun headcanon that JnD humans have pointed ears because the eco inadvertently changed their DNA over time. canonically, eco contains the ottsel "source code", and so long-term exposure gave humans slightly ottselfied DNA.

following this, redheads in JnD have a higher concentration of ottsel DNA, which is what gives them the red hair gene, since most ottsels are orange. so coming into contact with the usually lethal dark eco instead triggers a last-ditch defense mechanism and ottselfies them

now. there are a few ways this can happen. you can take a swim in a vat of dark eco, like Daxter did, and thus transform all at once.

or... you can be poisoned by dark eco. slowly. maybe through injection... or perhaps... *infection.*

the latter happens in Ottserrol after an... ill-fated encounter with Dark Jak.

I'll leave it at that for this ask ;)

[shenzuul]

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.

[sourfacedlemon]

"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]

[bedazzledstrider]

Baby’s first Jak drawing

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

[captain-castaway]

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!

[aces-to-apples]

No bells just whistles with 1

For this ask meme

"no bells, just whistles" (huh, not the fic i expected to get any asks about lol)

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

Ahhhhhh, this fic. I had a lot of fun with this fic, trying to find a serviceable Jak voice when we don't exactly get him doing a lot of expository dialogue, and also I had a lot of feelings that led to it. I love Jak and Daxter so much, the games and also the guys, and their relationship and all its little layers is so fascinating to me. Some Doylist (and meta) descriptions of them and also Jak in general kind of drive me up the wall because it seems like the writers/developers wanted Jak to be this hardened, badass, grimdark jerk who's constantly on the edge of flying off the handle, including at Daxter, and I legit just don't get that from the actual games. I get a lot of warmth and heart between Jak and Dax, and again Jak in general, and so when I mindlessly replay the games I tend to do a lot of musing about relationship stuff we don't see in the game because of time constraints but also sorta get implied through character development (and also cut content). And I've just always really enjoyed Jinx and found it funny how similar he and Daxter are—despite the travesty of having neither Jak nor Daxter actually interact with him (and Grim and Mog) in the sewers—to the point where I genuinely decided that I think Jak would feel a certain level of comfort with Jinx's nonsense purely because he's so used to Daxter's nonsense.

Which of course leads to a bit of introspection in the ficlet itself about how basically nobody besides Daxter treats Jak like just a normal dude, and Keira and Samos are outright disturbed by the changes he's undergone, so it must be a breath of fresh air to meet a dude compulsively incapable of being normal to Jak but in just an annoying Daxter-ish way. And of course I love a dumb ship and it drives me absolutely crazy just how incredibly gay Jinx's little nicknames for Jak were. Like I get that this was like 2002 and the culture was different and all but come on.

In a 15-minute mission Jinx derisively calls him "pretty boy", sassily calls him "sugar" (pronounced suga'), randomly brings up his hair, calls him "blue boy" because he apparently didn't want to say pretty twice in a row, says the words "You're pretty handy with that iron, blondie" in cold blood completely unprompted, says he's "got the magic, man" after Jak saves his life for the dozenth time, admiringly says "nice moves", again completely unprompted snickers "sweet as a ballerina" while Jak is jumping because he is abnormal and unwell, tries to encourage Jak by yelling "knock 'em silly, Jak", yet again calls him Pretty Boy and then also "tough guy" if Jak wonders away from the group, commits a third Pretty Boy Crime™ if you smack into him a couple times, and caps it all off with a smarmy little "buddy" at the end of the mission. He drives me insane. I'm sure the reason for all of *gestures* that is because they just let Cutter Garcia let loose and have fun in the booth but what they ended up with is a 30something-year-old man who is down horrendously for an obnoxious, over-powered teenager and simply unable to be normal about it. I love it, 10/10, no notes.

ANYWAY, I wrote it like that because I'm obsessed with Jak and Daxter (and also Jinx) in a way that is mildly concerning to feminism, thank you for asking.

[troblsomtwins829]

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

[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.

[hecketernal]

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.

[sparguscityangel]

I wrote something for dia de los muertos! 🫶🏼