#jak and daxter au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

talesofsonicasura · 1 year

Text

Light Overload

It's only natural for something to become overloaded with energy. The question is what if saving your best friend came with an unforeseen price?

Based on this poll. Enjoy.

Daxter didn't know what had gone wrong. Jak and him had just finished restocking ammo only to accidentally eavesdrop on some monks. They were talking about an some unexplored chamber within their temple. One which could possibly lead to a rare Light Eco treasure.

Daxter and Jak knew that Count Veger had an unhealthy obsession with Light Eco. Something nastily similar to Baron Praxis And Dark Eco. If what the monks said about this room was true, then somebody needed to beat the screwball to it.

Should be a piece of cake! After all Jak had a brand new spanking Light form that could get past those trippy traps. It should've been easy but the situation was so much worse as Daxter watch his friend howl in pain inside a glass tube.

That 'secret room' led to a giant silo of Light Eco! Kinda like a reverse sibling to the Dark Eco one Gol and Maia tried to open at the Precursor Citadel. However this one didn't require a robot but instead a conduit. And Eco Channelers apparently count as substitutes!

Jak had went to look inside the strange chamber only for it to close on him. Now so much Light Eco was being pumped to the point he been forced into Light Form and... his body slowly began cracking. "Don't worry Jak! I'll get you out!" Daxter gazed around the room.

So far, there were busted consoles, more crappy Precursor tech, a display of 5 sealed metal boxes and... "Bingo!" A glass tube filled with glowing Light Eco crystals. If he breaks it then the machine couldn't pump anymore power through Jak.

Luckily, Daxter had some metal boxy ammo. He should've paid attention to the strange symbols on the boxes before he began throwing. Cause if the ottsel did then what would be unleashed on his best friend wouldn't happen.

"TAKE THIS STUPID BATTERY!" Metal edges of the sealed container shatter the glass case. The Light Eco crystals were sent airborne as the box snatched their spot. "Power should cut off right..." One side of the box began to burn an eerie purple as a symbol reared its creepy markings at the ottsel.

Dark Rabbit

A violet emblem with a jester cowl and long torn ear things looked back maliciously before breaking apart. Daxter watch as the white stream of Light Eco take a sickly greenish purple while the silo seal itself shut. "RAAAAAAARGH!!!" Jak's sudden inhuman howl nearly made the ottsel jump out of his kid but the sight was much worse.

Color began taking over Light Jak's form except it definitely wasn't the right ones. Dark greenish teal crawled between bluish dark violet, a thick blue stripe on the center of his face as zigzagging green stripes separated the violet outerside and those white eyes now a mean looking yellow. His clawed fists... Wait.

Daxter unconsciously took a step back as Light Jak began to shift into something bigger. It barely took seconds for violet and green to overtake the glass. The ottsel immediately took cover behind a dead console as cracks spread across the the tube before- *BOOM*

Daxter winced at the glass shards flying over him and the streams of smoke from an Eco powered explosion. He slowly began to step outta his makeshift blast cover. The floor by Jak's container been scorched black, the wall it hanged now a huge hole and a mass of smoke shrouding something.

Burning yellow eyes quickly met Daxter's brown ones as the little ottsel watch the owner stumble out. A large 25 ft humanoid rabbit bearing the same colors that took over his friend's Light form. Those once twisted tip ears now look like torn yet feathery, three horns messily wrapped in his red scarf now protrude from his forehead, and sharp teeth peaked out his round muzzle's mouth similar to the Dark Eco Plant on their first huge adventure.

That greenish yellow prison hair returned with streaks of bluish violet alongside now reaching his lower back, Jak's arms were huge, especially the hands, compared to the slightly long starter dad bod he's sporting, wild starburst jester cowl flair around his neck and those big feet replaced by bigger rabbit ones.

His wastelander outfit was completely wrecked. The only things that survived were his googles, scarf, remnants of his destroyed pants held by the leathery waist strap skirt albeit with two violet coat-tails now peaking out from it, and the large straps from his ruined blue shirt.

"D-d-axter??" A scratchy, growlish, and slightly deeper version of Jak's voice whimpered from the monstrous rabbit. Daxter's small form was a blurry mess as his eyes didn't want to stay open. The last thing Jak heard is the ottsel shouting his name before everything went dark.

Beastial Vampire

Daxter flinched at he saw the burning yellow bat on the box's side as the glass broke apart. Whatever been inside turned the Light Eco stream a sickly reddish orange before going into Jak. The reaction on his friend was instantaneous as those white eyes explode into a vicious violet.

Only on pure instinct did Daxter duck behind a desolated console before the container holding his friend explode. The ottsel didn't dare move as Jak's painful growls grew deeper and monstrous. He needs to be alive if he's gonna snap his best friend outta any feral haze.

Minutes felt like hours and Daxter went still at two long arms and bat wings laid strewn on both sides of his hiding spot. The limbs were covered in a dark teal caparace from the visible segments on the clawlike fingers. Wings weren't any better as that dark teal hide hung over torn black skin. He didn't miss the familiar yellow bat symbol glaring on the back hand's black hide.

Daxter gulped as silence took over those painful whimpers and a shadow hung above him. Slowly he looks up to meet the large bluish grey face of what was once Light Jak. His messy greenish yellow mane from prison returned to frame a dark teal antler horn mask as sickly yellow eyes stare down at Daxter.

"D-d-dax? W-what hap-pened?" The ottsel wince at his best friend's confused deep growl sounding whimper. "I don't know. Whatever was in the box got into your system through the Light Eco link and did...this." Daxter couldn't the small pause upon seeing the rest of his friend's changes.

That dark teal caparace took over his upper body except the sides of his abdomen, Jak's lower half was bigger and more beastly than the top half. Thick dark brown coat with stripes lazily strewn about, a red bat emblem hung over two pairs of eerie orange eye patterns, red claws held onto the man's knees, those big feet now huge three toed bat ones and a long rat tail wag behind Jak.

He had to be at least 30 ft in size from how hunched over the man is, his back still hit despite the ridiculous size of the chamber. "Don't worry buddy. Everything will be ok but we need to get out of here. Although the monks might have to deal with a huge hole in their temple."

Masked Angel

An insignia of horned demon wearing a top hat been burnt into the ottsel's mind alongside the Light Eco stream's shift from white to red. Daxter couldn't help but feel stupid as he currently look at the aftermath done to his best friend Jak. The demonic angel which was once his light form.

Glowing dark blue skin had been overtaken by a dark blue scales, Jak's fingers were sharp claws that would make his dark form jealous, long jagged black horns poke from the prison hairdo he once had, huge black feathered wings hung from the young adult's lower back but his face or lack of took the cake.

A black mask replaced his friend's facial features with burning blue flames to copy any expressions. Even Jak's outfit wasn't safe as it been transfigured into royal blue tuxedo facsimile. Short long sleeve coat, large red cravat that had once been a bandana, his goggles now hung from a top hat and a white tuxedo shirt. He had no pants his lower half became similar to a doll as red leg armor ending in epic knife heels took over for the old pair.

"Daxter, it wasn't your fault." Jak's new echoey voice had the ottsel look into those flaming blue eyes. "But I was the one to toss that freaky box!" "And I was the idiot who walked into the chamber." Daxter went quiet as it became clear that they were both idiots.

He could already hear Damas scolding- Uh oh. "Jak, I think we might've set off a certain pointy headed royal bomb." The flames on the 15 ft giant's face quickly sputter upon realization that they were in big trouble. "Fuck. Think you can drive the Tough Puppy back cause well..."

Daxter sarcastically rolled his eyes as he knew about Jak's new height problem. "I drove a Zoomer by himself for that second class race! The Tough Puppy should be a piece of cake! Although you owe me some pants for the scolding were about to get."

Vengeful Remnants

"You think those boxes had different stuff in them? Or did they all have that creepy skull emblem with mismatched eyes?" Daxter absently mumble as he try to ignore slightly rotten meat smell under the huge blue trenchcoat covering his best friend's 17'5 misshapen form.

Whatever been inside that metal box clearly belonged to a R rated zombie film if it could transfer something like Light Jak into a Terminator dressed Frankenstein Monster. Bluish gray rotten skin, hulk like body with massive bone spikes that jut from; shoulders, knees, back, to even the top of his head(eeriely similar to Damas' crown), two holes on each side of his legs alongside a new back toe for his feet, greyish skull mask covered Jak's except for his pelican teeth like mouth and newfound heterochromia (right eye is now red).

Although the half broken rib cages decor on his friend's new outfit wasn't as bad as the chimera that made up of the entire right arm. One horror made from wriggling mass of snakes, mismatched reptiles, blue lights that were clearly eyes, two cawing bird fingers amongst the 'normal' ones and the mouth on the bottom palm. Yeesh!

Jak's outfit was now a huge dark blue trenchcoat decorated in spiky red straps, light gray flames embroidery on the back tail ends of his coat n sleeves, his bandana now a massive torn scarf and a large hood that hid his goggles alongside his hair. Overall the man could've easily scare off Kor with his new looks.

"Ow!" Daxter rubbed his head as he glare back at the snake head responsible. It carefully nudge the ottsel over to see the lost look on Jak's face. Guess even zombie animal parts are as observant as their alive counterparts.

"Jak! You better not be pouting about your looks again. We all know no one can reach my level of handsomeness but looks don't always matter." The undead man glanced at the small ottsel that hanging on his chimeric arm.

"No one in Haven could stand my Dark Form! Even our friends were afraid of me possibly becoming fer-" "Sig and Tess would say otherwise. Damas is too dad-like to even judge plus I bet even Kleiver doesn't give a shit on your new appearance."

Daxter climbed over and made himself comfy on his best friend's head. "Despite everything that happens, you are still Jak. My crazy best friend ever since we were dumb children poking Wumpbee Nests and driving grumpy Green Eco sages nuts. Can't be a Demolition Duo with one person after all!"

The undead giant stared back at his friend for a seconds before breaking into a deep chirr like chuckle. "You got that right Dax. Thanks for always having my back." Daxter merely noogie his friend as things felt a little too sappy.

Toxic Griffon

"... this is the insignia of the 5th Forbidden Treasure. We believe the undiscovered room uses these for some unknown mechanism." A violet outline of a bird face breathing smoke stare back at the paper in Damas' hand. Seem had approached him for a potential sweep of the temple after uncovering a secret passage which led to Haven City.

Guess the threat Count Veger posed was enough to spur the monks to seek his help personally. Sig stood beside him as the man had discover Jak and Daxter weren't in their rooms. Damas knew the boys' habit of getting into trouble especially when it stems from trespassing. They already snuck inside the Monk Temple before.

"What the absolute hell is that?!!" Sig's sudden shout Damas and Seem quickly turned to the desert. It was Tough Puppy but Daxter is the one driving with Jak nowhere in sight. A bad picture that only got worse as they saw the cause for concern.

Following behind the ottsel was a large 20 ft griffin like humanoid that eeriely resemble the insignia Seem just showed him. It had the white feathery head of a bird with piercing yellow eyes, a violet beak full of sharp teeth, red n gold blades on top its head, a yellow green fiery mane too familiar for Damas' taste that went from the head and stop halfway down lizard like tail.

Violet spiral markings covered the beast's muscular body specifically the upper chest, shoulders, ankles, wrists alongside the sides of the tail. Sharp red claws protrude from the birdlike talons whilst four large red rimmed white wings that protrude from the head and neck was what let the giant glide after Daxter.

However Damas felt his heart drop as he notice someone hanging off the gold horn. An item that revealed just who this giant bird was: a familiar spare of goggles that could only belong to the ottsel's best friend. "Sig, tell our men not to shoot down that beast immediately! It's Jak!"

The Wastelander's non mechanical eye went wide as he look at the giant bird and saw the goggles. "By the Precursors, I swear those two never cease to surprise with their antics. I'll alert our fellow Wastelanders to stand down but Jak's definitely sleeping in the Leaper Lizard pen for this."

Damas looked at Seem who manage to mask their shock although he could still see cracks in the monk's calm demeanor. "To think these boys couldn't get into anymore trouble." He'll need a good cup of tea later but he had two youths in need of huge lecture right now.

And that's it! Our dynamic definitely gotten an earful for this little mishap but Jak's form could be considered enough of a punishment. I wanted to try a slightly different writing style for these snippets that the story slowly progresses through each one despite the different iterations.

Jak doesn't blame Daxter for this. Things were clearly out of their control and his friend did the best he could to save him. Is this new form permanent? Yes but it can be mostly suppressed into something smaller and more manageable for Jak.

He still has his Light powers but also access to Dark Jak. Although some Light Eco based abilities been altered depending on each version of Jak's new form.

That's all I have for now! Until next time folks, I'll see you back in Spargus!

#sonicasura #tales of sonicasura #jak and daxter #jak and daxter au #jnd #jak 3 #jak mar #jak #daxter #light eco #light jak #poll based fic #mentioned fandoms #digimon #yu gi oh #spectrobes #persona series

4 notes · View notes

rose13aris · 1 year

Link

Happy update day! I’m trying to give my characters some breaks because apparently I’m heading through the game at breakneck speeds. Whoops.

#jak and daxter #jak 2 #jak 2 au #fanfic #my fanfic stuff #jak and daxter au #jak and daxter fanfic #jak 2 fanfic

2 notes · View notes

woelfin-sheeps-clothing · 8 months

Text

Cropped for technical nudity. Second rendition and update of siren Jak! Early dad-bod edition. Full version on the bird? X? App.

#jak and daxter #jak and daxter series #jak and daxter fanart #jak 2 #jak and daxter 2 #jak ii #Jak iii #jak 3 #jnd #jnd fanart #jak and daxter au #pirate au #fantasy #fantasy creature #siren #siren au #dark Jak #dark!jak

22 notes · View notes

radioactivepeasant · 9 days

Text

Free Day Friday: untitled Jak oneshot/ Daxter Snaps And It Doesn't Go Well

(This takes place right after Jak finally gets to return to Spargus in Jak 3, because I had some Feelings about the Dark Eco Oracle and its well-loved shrine having been either moved or destroyed in Haven. Also for reference: since the original Jak concept art was a cat/foxlike alien child, hence the ears being set so high on his head in TPL, I'm hereby deciding that their species can purr. Because I said so.)

This is Quite Long, so I'll probably crosspost to AO3 later.

TW: panic attack

Jak hadn't been surprised by the summons when he'd returned from Haven. He knew he was in for it. Damas had started trusting him with more and more responsibilities and then Jak had screwed it all up. Running off to Haven and then getting stuck there immediately after? Not a good look.

Honestly, Jak was just grateful he wasn't being "escorted" up by city guards.

Part of him wanted to go in fighting. That's all Damas cares about, right? a small, bitter corner of his heart muttered.

The rest of him was too afraid. He finally knew better than to look to anyone in Haven for affirmation or examples. Damas had been the closest he'd ever come to an authority figure he trusted. What if he lost that, too?

The second his and Daxter's heads were visible in the elevator shaft, Damas was already raising his voice. Perhaps he was simply projecting his voice to reach them, but Jak's stomach twisted into knots regardless, and his breathing became quick and shallow.

"Where have you been?" Damas demanded, rising from his throne. "It's been a month!"

The elevator locked, and Jak crept out onto the pathway like a skittish animal. He didn't meet Damas’s eyes. The confused anger and hurt he'd seen in them the last time flashed in his memory, and he winced. An oppressive silence fell for a few unnaturally long seconds, punctuated by the creak of the water wheel. Damas was waiting for an answer.

It's not our fault, Jak tried to reassure himself, Just another betrayal. We didn't do anything wrong.

When he didn't answer Damas, the king’s expression twisted between outrage and disbelief and-

And disappointment.

"Nothing? Really, Jak?" He took one step down from the dais, clenching his fist at his side. "Why didn't you tell anyone where you were going?"

Daxter took it upon himself to answer when Jak wouldn't -- or couldn't.

"Oh lay off!" he hissed, puffing himself up to look bigger, "Don't you have friends to kill in your gladiator ring?"

"Dax!" Jak gasped. Too late.

The words were already out and a black look fell across Damas’s face. His entire posture went rigid.

"Excuse me?" he asked in a frightful facsimile of calm.

"Daxter, don't," Jak pleaded, but it was far too late for that. When Daxter got this mad, he didn't even hear Jak.

"You heard me!"

Daxter leapt off Jak's shoulder and stood on the first stepping stone as if blocking the way between them.

"You tried to make us kill one of our only real friends, and threw a tantrum when we wouldn't! And if you think I'd trust you with Jak's location after that, those spikes must be diggin' into your brain!"

Jak couldn't breathe.

Either Damas was going to cut them off, or Daxter was going to get hurt, and either way everything was going to crumble. He'd finally escaped Haven and there was going to be nothing to escape to.

His core pulsed, obeying signals he didn't even know his brain was sending. It tried to respond to the fight-or-flight instincts quickening his pulse and shortening his breath. In Haven, he would have gone Dark in response. But he'd used all the dark eco. There was nothing left. Nothing but adrenaline and panic.

A strange, almost echoing sensation pushed at the inside of his skull, and the room spun. He couldn't breathe. His lungs felt like they'd been fused shut. He couldn't breathe!

"Jak!"

Between blurs of brown and green, Damas -- or an unfocused and staticy version of him -- approached rapidly.

As if from another room, Jak heard Daxter snarl, "Stay back! If you hurt him, I'll rip your spikes out!"

"I wouldn't hurt him!"

"You already did!"

It was too much. He couldn't- he couldn't focus. He couldn't find the light eco. Jak's knees gave, and it was a struggle to stay upright. Hands caught his upper arms, preventing him from collapsing entirely.

"Breathe, Jak!"

Damas sounded worried this time.

"You have to breathe!"

"Can't-!" Jak gasped, breath squeaking.

Then the world turned sideways and he was in the water. Or partly in the water.

His legs twitched with the shock of the new sensation, surprising him enough to suck in a deep breath. A compressing sensation against his chest and arms tightened in response.

"Focus on the water. Find your feet."

It took four tries to get his boots on the rocky bottom of the pool. His chest hurt, but he managed another deep breath.

"That's it. You can do this."

A small hand took his, pulling against the pressure around his shoulders, and pressed it against a narrow chest.

"L- like we practiced, bud-"

Oh. There's Daxter.

"Just breathe when I breathe, remember?"

Distantly, he heard Damas ask Daxter, "Has this happened before? In- in Spargus, I mean."

"Don't think about it, warrior," the other voice encouraged -- Damas? Is that Damas? But he's mad at us! -- "Just do as your friend does."

"If Jak wants to tell ya, he'll tell ya," Daxter said sourly. "You and I are not on speaking terms right now."

"...that is understandable."

One by one, his muscles relaxed. His breathing was much too fast, but it was easier to get full breaths at least.

When the ringing in Jak’s ears at last began to subside, he picked up a new sound. It was faint, barely audible at all, but he could just make out a nervous rumble. A laryngeal vibration he could feel through the back of his shirt. With conscious thought on standby mode, Jak's body responded to long-forgotten cues unbidden. His glottis rapidly dilated and constricted with his breathing, creating its own vibrations in a bid to self-soothe. It was how he'd learned not to cry out loud as a young child -- although blessedly, he would never remember that.

It wasn't the first time Damas had walked one of his people through a panic attack in the throne room, and it wouldn't be the last. But this one hurt.

"You're safe. There is no danger here. This is a safe place."

Shame raked its claws down his chest and Pain reached through the incision, grasping at organs and prying bones out of the way.

Jak didn't trust him.

And it was his fault.

"I'm sorry," he whispered- to Jak, to Daxter, to either-

A memory loomed damningly before his eyes. Mar had just started walking, and nearly toppled into the pools. Damas had yelled at him to get away from the edge, and the baby had burst into a loud, terrified wail.

"I'm- was it the shouting? I-"

"I'm sorry, it's okay, it's okay now- I know, I used the Big Voice, Daddy's sorry! You scared me, Bug!"

He hadn't gotten any better after losing Mar, had he? He still shouted when he was afraid. And look how that had turned out.

Damas tightened his hold on Jak and rested his chin on the crown of the boy's head. The apologies were bitter on his tongue, but necessary.

"I...I triggered this, didn't I? I'm sorry- gods, I'm sorry, Jak. I'm- you scared me. I couldn't find you! No one could!"

"You...thought we defected?" he asked through numbed lips.

The panic was slow to fade, still muddling Jak's mind. He couldn't quite make sense of what he was hearing.

"I thought the Marauders had taken you! Or you'd collapsed somewhere in the Wastes where we couldn't find you!" Damas answered. The dregs of that old fear still stained the edges of his voice. He shuddered.

He swallowed hard, interrupting the agitated purring for a moment. "I...did not handle the...situation as I should have. I damaged your trust. And I deserved worse than the silent treatment. I understand that. But to keep it from Sig, too?"

"You can't just run away like that! I- I understand why you didn't tell me-"

Painfully slowly, Jak drew his legs back out of the water and onto the rocks.

"They wouldn't let me," he mumbled. "They didn't let us leave."

Damas shot a concerned look at Daxter, who shrugged and looked away.

Shifting his grip to have one arm around the boy's waist, Damas heaved himself to his feet, taking Jak with him.

This promised to be a very unpleasant conversation, the least he could do was find them somewhere more comfortable to sit.

They were silent for a time, each processing the whirlwind of events. Jak was deeply, thoroughly, confused. No one had ever apologized like that before. Acknowledging his pain and the specific way their actions had caused it? It would be a cold day in hell before Samos ever did anything like that.

He didn't understand.

They'd defied Damas, then run from him. Daxter had just challenged him to his face.

Yet he spoke like a man anxiously awaiting the return of a prodigal son.

"Who wouldn't let you leave, Jak?" Damas asked him, far too gently.

Jak shut his eyes. "Haven."

"Haven?!" Damas sounded horrified. "What were you doing there?! Is that where you've been this whole time?"

Miserably, Jak nodded. "I was just- we were just scouting. Just- it wasn't supposed to be-"

He gritted his teeth.

"They locked down the air trains," he croaked. "And- and there's force fields blocking off the city exits. The only way they'd let us go was if I fought on the frontlines for three weeks first."

Fighting down his anger lest he trigger Jak's panic again, Damas forced himself to ask, "What made you go back to that city in the first place?"

A hostage. His boy- The boy had been a bloody hostage, and he'd had no idea! Damas felt something dark and dense fluttering between his ribs. If he found the person who ordered this, he would drown them in the sands.

Jak winced and passed several looks back and forth with Daxter.

"Ashelin...called me to the oasis," he said at last.

Damas stiffened beside him.

"She want- she wanted me to come back to Haven. After everything they did to me, she wanted me to come back."

He felt the hints of the anxiety returning, and wrapped his arms around himself for comfort.

"Ashelin Praxis?" Damas demanded. He curled his lip. "I might have known. I hope you told her where to shove that offer."

Daxter scoffed. "Oh, he did. Even told her "I have new friends now", which was a little too generous considering what you said to my pal."

Jak gave the ottsel a weary look, and Daxter grudgingly subsided.

"I told her to leave. She- she wouldn't drop it. Said the friends we still had were going to die. That it was my responsibility because of-"

He flipped a hand in the air in frustration.

"I don't know! Dead people I share some common blood with!"

"Pal, I'm pretty sure that common blood stopped bein' responsible for that dump when Princess Scribbleface's darling pappy took over," Daxter grumbled.

"Common blood?!" Damas startled, but Jak had already moved on, hastily trying to explain himself.

"We didn't believe her -- I- I mean, why would we? But when I asked the Oracle in the temple-"

"How did you find the Oracle?!" Damas spluttered.

"The stupid thing called me," Jak growled. He leaned forward and pressed his face into his hands. "Said the whole planet was in danger and my friends would die if I didn't find the catacombs."

He muffled a snarl in his palms.

"I hate them. I hate those rottin' things. They don't tell me when something is a trap. They only tell me what fits their agenda."

Jak could speak to Precursor Oracles.

Only monks were supposed to still be able to do that.

Monks, or Heirs of Mar taking the Trials.

"And...was it a trap?" Damas asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

A painful, wishful image of Jak in the Tomb of Mar wormed through Damas’s thoughts. If life had any semblance of fairness, or restitution, it would have been reality. It was not what he deserved, not after how many times he'd failed the people he cared about. But Jak deserved it. He'd been isolated enough.

Jak's face was like stone.

"All they cared about was getting me into Haven to find the catacombs before that nutcase Veger could. And all Haven cared about was keeping us there."

A deep, ominous creaking filled the room. Harsh shadows stretched and yawned as the terrible old statue beside the dais flickered, then lit up. A suffocating sense of dread filled Damas as he beheld the monolith. It wasn't a real Oracle. It was a shell, made to hold pieces of the water wheel. It wasn't made to have any kind of lights.

Daxter yelped and scurried up to Jak’s shoulder as the water wheel ground to a halt.

The silence was unnatural.

Jak's chest heaved, and Damas feared for a moment that he was going to panic again. But an answering light flickered in the boy's eyes. White, incandescent rage.

"What do you want now? You're not welcome here!" Jak snarled, standing up with a jerk.

"Angry one-"

It said in warning, a rolling, ancient voice that echoed off the stones and twisted in their eardrums.

Jak clenched his fists.

"No! I'm not afraid of you! You're no "holier" than Onin. You aren't even a Precursor!"

A sense of fury shook the room, and the water trembled.

Jak held his ground though his legs shook.

"You can't do anything to punish me," he challenged, angry tears glowing in his eyes. "The worst you can do is withhold information that would protect me, and you do that anyway! If- if you had power at all, you wouldn't have let Veger destroy Crius!"

Crius? Damas vaguely remembered that name. Hadn't he been one of the Bonekeeper's heralds? The memories were fuzzy at best. Father forbade Mother from speaking of the Bonekeeper when they married. Any communing with the patron of dark eco was done in secret, and as a child Damas had only caught her once.

"The dark shrine was all those people had!" the anger was slipping away from Jak now, replaced by something closer to grief. "He gave them hope! He gave- he gave me hope! And you couldn't save him. So what makes you think you can scare me now? Hu'mens are worse than you."

And the Oracle, miraculously, quieted. The waters stilled, and some of the dread receded. Jak fell back to the steps, having exhausted the last reserves of his emotions.

"Yeah! You tell him, Jak!" Daxter cheered, breaking the silence, "About time you put Sparky in his place!"

He ruffled Jak's hair -- the hair he could reach at least -- and leaned against his arm comfortingly.

"Next, we get Loghead!"

The Oracle remained lit, but speechless. All this time, had rebuking the heralds really been an option? Ever the pragmatist, Damas decided to follow Jak's example.

"As the boy said." His voice was quiet at first, but gained courage with each new word.

"This is not a place of seers and soothsayers. Respectfully: we do not require your guidance at this time."

"Heir of Mar-"

the Oracle began, almost wheedling.

Rage loosened his lips and he lost the last shred of reverence he'd held for the messenger.

Jak went rigid and Damas felt an anger of his own. How dare this entity try to leverage his bloodline when the Precursors had turned their backs on him!

"Hold your tongue! Unless you can comprehend the trouble you have caused, keep your counsel to yourself."

Resentfully, the Oracle's eyes flashed.

And with that, the lights were gone. The water wheel resumed its gloomy rhythm. The statue was hollow once more.

"So be it. You wish to hear no truth from me? Then you, Damas of the Wastes, shall hear no truth from me."

Something about the acquiescence -- or threat -- made Damas uneasy. Withholding information again, just as Jak had said. But he had the feeling it was hinting at something important. Taunting him.

Bloody seven hells.

He'd sooner cast the bones himself and call upon the Dark Lady directly as his mother once had than ever deal with that thing again.

"Little wonder you're always so on edge, dealing with that," he said; a poor attempt at a joke.

Jak dropped his face back into his hands.

"I'm so sick of them. Jak do this. Jak go there. Suffer for us, Jak! It's Fate!"

Damas scoffed. "Fate, eh? Wastelanders make their own fate. If this is who my monks consult, it's no surprise that they believe the world is coming to an end."

"They are pretty worried about the creatures in that space ship," Jak admitted reluctantly.

"Bah."

Damas waved it off.

"When the metalheads invaded our world, we survived with or without the Precursors they hunted. We will do the same if these creatures land."

He jostled Jak's shoulder -- shaking Daxter by proxy.

"Ey! No manhandling!"

Daxter slithered away down the steps and into the water. He glared up over the step like a little croc.

"You keep your emotionally constipated hands away from me!"

Damas let out a startled laugh, and Jak shook his head and grinned.

"I...guess you're right. Spargus is pretty tough."

"We are Wastelanders, boy," Damas declared, "We carved out a home in the places where nothing else survives. We'll carve out our fate the same way, with the same tools our ancestors used."

"...with eco," Jak said quietly, as if experiencing a revelation.

"Our minds think alike."

Damas’s wry grin faded.

"Jak...I'm...sorry. That I made you feel you couldn't contact me for help. If I had known you were being held in Haven against your will, I would have come for you."

The boy fixed him with a bewildered expression.

"You would have?" Jak asked, "You're serious. You. Leaving your people to come after me?"

The king met his stare evenly.

"Yes."

"After the- the thing, with the Arena-?"

Damas winced and looked away.

"I. I did not warn you, I was not permitted to. But the final trial of a Spargan is one they are supposed to lose."

Jak bristled. "What?!"

"It's a test of whether they can put loyalty to their city over the commands of a tyrant. Sig wasn't supposed to throw down his gun, he was supposed to goad you into a sparring match." Damas ran his hand over his shaved head. "I should have told him before he went in that it was you. I didn't know that you knew each other, but- maybe he wouldn't have panicked if he'd known it was a Final Trial. Maybe I wouldn't have panicked."

Jak stared at him in disbelief for several seconds. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, he blurted out an accusation with no bite to it.

"What, did you forget I didn't grow up here?"

When he was met with chagrined silence, his eyes widened.

"Oh my gods you did. How?! You're the one that found me out there!"

Clearly embarrassed, Damas shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what to tell you. There are days when it just...seems as though I have known you for much longer than seven months."

Jak took that statement, turned it over in his mind. The version of Damas in his head wasn't quite matching the one in front of him. Even before things had become strained between them, he hadn't had the context to understand the way Damas saw him. He still didn't- not completely.

"Sorry," he said suddenly, and gestured to the soaked trousers. "I um. I don't usually...not in front of people, I mean-"

He leaned back against the stairs and stretched his legs out before him. The linen stuck to his legs in sodden wrinkles and folds, nearly transparent against his calves. It would dry quickly once he stepped outside again -- and the evaporating water would serve to cool his skin nicely. But for now, it drew his mind to his panic attack.

"Don't apologize." Damas laced his fingers together loosely and leaned his elbows against his knees. "May...may I ask what it was that sparked that kind of fear?"

Jak met Daxter's eyes, down in the water. The ottsel winced. He knew he'd taken it too far. He was just so sick of people acting like Jak was a trained dog with no autonomy of his own. And sometimes his desire to protect Jak’s emotions didn't mesh completely with what Jak needed at the moment.

Jak broke their gaze and began to pick at a scar on his elbow.

"...thought I was going to have to choose sides. Between you and Dax."

"Why would supporting Daxter cause you to panic?" Damas pressed.

"Because," he muttered with a shrug.

He'd assumed without question that Jak would take Daxter's side. Jak didn't know whether to be amused or grateful or just tired.

"Because?"

"Because I- I wanted this to still be home." Jak made a vague gesture encompassing the room, and its occupants.

"This is your home," Damas insisted. He glanced to the empty Oracle with a thoughtful frown.

Something lingered in the corners of Jak's eyes. A concern he wasn't voicing. Did he still believe he could be so easily forsaken?

"If this is where the desert brought you, then this is where the desert meant you to thrive."

But then, he had been cast out of Haven on the flimsiest of pretenses. His faith in hu'menity was shaken. For a moment, Damas considered changing the subject. He could talk about the coming trials, give Jak something else to think about.

Or he could meet him on his level. Show him the same vulnerability he'd so unwillingly displayed.

The words stuck to his tongue, stabbed like needles into the roof of his mouth as he forced them through his teeth.

"I...had a son. Some years ago."

"Had". Was there ever such a horrible word?

"He was like you -- or, he would have been, when he was older."

Under his breath he added, "if he ever got the chance to get older."

Jak's brows knit together, then went slack. From tiny pinpricks in the centers of his eyes, horror flooded out to the rest of his face.

"You have a child?"

After a moment to collect himself, the king nodded.

His head dipped lower, nearly brushing the steeple of his fingertips.

"I did. He was taken from me, by some of the same people who seem to have orchestrated your own suffering."

"I pray that my son still lives but- he was so young. So small. So-"

Damas’s voice cracked.

"So very small."

Guilt played across Jak's face for a moment, then was swallowed up by a deep sadness that welled up from within. Haven was a city of devils. He wondered if Damas’s child had been taken during the time when Praxis was snatching children en masse in his search for Jak's childhood self.

Did that make it his fault that Damas was so bereaved?

"That's-"

That's not fair. It's an abomination. Hurting a kid should be enough to make the Precursors strike you dead on the spot. Errol should've died the first time he put me in the Chair-

Jak's thoughts spiraled out of control, and he had to fight to return his focus to the moment.

"That's terrible."

Inhaling sharply, Damas raised his head and straightened his spine. One warm, callused hand found its way to Jak’s shoulder and squeezed.

He felt his throat closing up, snapping his voice into grating pieces.

"The reason I tell you this is so that you will understand this: It would take more than a little teenaged defiance to make me turn my back on you."

"I lost my son, Jak," he croaked, "I cannot lose you, too."

The laryngeal vibration began again -- from Jak, this time. The nearly autonomous response was as much a subconscious desire to comfort Damas as it was self-soothing. Even so, his chest ached dully. How old, he wondered, had Damas’s son been when he was taken? He must have been so scared! Did he call out for his father? Did Damas call out for him?

"In...war," Damas said hesitantly, "Sacrifices are sometimes required of us. In my case, I had to stay and rebuild the part of the wall the attackers destroyed. To protect thousands from the storms and the Marauders. I knew that, but it still took days for Sig to convince me to send him to Haven in my place."

"Yeah," Jak muttered, "I know about sacrfices."

But Damas shook his head. "It's hardly a sacrifice if someone else chose it for you out of convenience. That's just betrayal."

Silence fell again, but there was no tension to it. A sense of introspection lingered between them, each consumed with his own thoughts. Even Daxter's anger had muted itself -- now overlayed with guilt, berating himself for jumping to fight Jak's battles without bothering to see what Jak himself wanted.

The moment of quiet ended with a crackling of the city radio from which Damas monitored all official channels.

"Oh not now," the man groaned with a most unkingly attitude. "Can I have a moment of peace?"

"No way," Jak scoffed, finding a glimmer of humor in the situation, "You jinxed it by letting us take a break. Now something crazy is going to happen."

Damas narrowed his eyes. "Boy, if you will that into reality-" he warned, with no real way to finish the threat.

The second he picked up the receiver, he knew it was going to be a headache.

"Sire! We've got three different Marauder patrols converging on the city gates! There's a fourth on the radar crossing the river now!"

Daxter pulled himself out of the water and cringed. "How many cars is that?"

"Twelve, at least," Jak gulped.

Damas did not take this information the way he normally would have. He seemed to be fuming as he stood up and stomped up the stairs to retrieve his staff. Jak could hear him muttering under his breath.

His voice rose to something more audible. "I'm not in the mood for this, Egil," he snapped, addressing the thane of the Marauders as if he were present.

"Not the time, Egil, this is not the time to test me! Just got my kid back, got threatened by a bloody Oracle-"

Jak decided, for the sake of being able to focus during a fight, to just pretend he hadn't heard Damas referring to him as his own kid. He could come back to that and freak out later. Right now, there was a fight to be had. He held an arm down for Daxter to use as a ramp, then stood.

"Where do you need me?" he asked.

Damas gave him a searching look. For an instant, his gaze flicked to the lifeless Oracle. That seemed to reinforce his resolve.

"With me," he said shortly. "We're taking the Dozer. You're on the turret gun."

The way Jak's -- and even Daxter's -- eyes lit up almost made up for the hassle Damas knew this skirmish was going to be. He cast one last look at the Oracle before shepherding them to the lift.

Keep your counsel, he thought, and I will keep mine. I don't need your permission to add a son to my House. What of that, eh? The Heir and your renegade Pawn allied against you!

"Hey, maybe I should drive," Jak suggested as the lift began to move."

"Hm." Damas pretended to consider it. "No."

"Why not?!"

"You can't reach the pedals yet."

He could have simply explained that he preferred to drive his favorite vehicle himself. But, the slightest bit giddy at the thought of open rebellion against fate, Damas instead bent slightly to offer a teasing grin.

"What?! Oh come on!"

The elevator sank out of sight, and the water wheel trembled. The statue vibrated and the pools bubbled and boiled with the helpless fury of a falconer whose birds had long since slipped the jesses to fly free. But the boy had not spoken falsley: it was not a Precursor, merely the echo of one's memory. In the face of hu'men defiance, it was helpless to retaliate in any meaningful way. Even withholding the truth of the Hero's identity had been robbed of its intended effect, considering the Fallen Heir and the Hero had gone ahead and reformed the broken bond between them anyway!

The Oracle could not comprehend their motives, nor could it ever hope to understand the complexities of the hu'men mind.

It could only watch and seethe.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #free day friday #jak and daxter #dadmas #king damas #jak and daxter au #headcanon that the final arena battle is a Kobayashi Maru and Jak pulled a Kirk #i named the Dark Oracle after one of the mythological Titans #sneaky reference to sparguscituangel canon where Mictecacíhuatl is the patron of dark eco #tw panic attack #daxter was fully ready to End Damas right there 😂#Jak's species can purr now because the concept art started out vaguely feline #eldritch abomination oracle time!#except instead of humans being unable to comprehend the lovecraftian monster #its the lovecraftian monster that is wholly incapable of understanding humans without succumbing to madness #long post #oneshot

37 notes · View notes

hecketernal · 4 months

Text

IT'S THE HORNS AU

Descendants of Mar have a remarkable tendency to grow horns.

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

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

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

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

#can't stop won't stop #making aus #jak and daxter #jak #damas #it's the horns au #jnd #my aus #several wastelanders are getting bruised ribs from all the excited elbowing from the wastelanders next to them #should have been paying more attention to what was happening in the arena Ruin and Futz #already coming up with ocs? yes #Ruin renamed herself Ruin because she's petty and dramatic and when she was told she would spell ruin for her family by getting exiled...#well she took that shit personally #Futz was named Futz cause he gave his wastelander mother a lot of grief by always kicking his little baby footsies into his mother's kidney #jak 3 #damas jnd #jnd damas #jak and daxter au #damas jak and daxter

40 notes · View notes

astrathechinchilla · 1 year

Text

*clears throat*

Dark sides are awesome and lots of people (mostly Naughty Dog) suck at writing them.

WARNING: EXTREMELY LONG RANT!

(This is mostly gonna be for my benefit, so I hope you don’t mind me screaming into the void with my headcanons)

Also, another warning: Mentions of how trauma is presented in media.

Also, PS: If you actually like my long rants about headcanons and critiques I have, you can ask me how I feel about certain subjects or characters, and I can make more stuff like this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A while back, we all went through a small burst of Keira appreciation from multiple individuals, myself included, and that made me ruminate on the source of why she was treated so poorly by the writers of Jak 2 and onward. How she was poorly handled and sacrificed on the pedestal of early 2000’s tropes wasn’t okay and was a complete waste of her character.

This led me to remember that there are many other concepts and plot elements in Jak 2 onward that go absolutely nowhere in terms of story and only show inklings of being interesting in any shape or form. AKA: Going to waste.

Tonight, I’d like to talk about one specific element of Jak 2 & 3’s story that wasn’t even remotely touched on and was a waste of a plot device. I’m talking of course about Jak’s Dark Side- and by extension, Eco Sides as a whole.

They are just the sickest concept that Naughty Dog came up with, and it’s in the one of the very first scenes of Jak 2. It shows that something else is lurking inside Jak trying to break free, immediately catching your attention when our protagonist struggles to keep it buried inside him.

What is this being? Why is it causing Jak to react this way? These are two base-line questions that ND writers leave unanswered, only referring to the being later in vague tones. The only other time it’s brought up again is in Jak 3, again at the beginning, and then they introduce another new side, Jak’s Light Eco form, of which we barely see as well. They never truely touch on any of these concepts, only using them as the basic game mechanics of the Jak series that they are.

This isn’t a bad approach, per say. No approach is above any other, and it mostly depends on the person writing them. Sometimes things being simple, like them being simply forms Jak takes when channeling Eco and not sentient beings themselves, is fine. Kind of boring, but fine.

However, that doesn’t stop us from making them more than just that~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The way I view it, those two questions I posed earlier could be answered in many different ways, and many of you have already found your own personal answers. Perhaps Jak’s Dark side is an ‘Evil Alter Ego’, a darker part of Jak’s being that was only just awakened by the Dark Eco he was forcefully injected with. Or, maybe, he’s a raging beast, simply a manifestation of all of his animalistic urges taking the form of the dark essence now flowing through Jak. But for me, I find a particular view of Jak’s Dark Side much more compelling than many other approaches.

I think it’s more interesting to consider that this entity could be a manifestation of Jak’s psychological trauma, his emotions and pain that he felt at the hands of the Baron’s torture that comes back in a physical form, splitting off from the main part of Jak’s subconscious. He’s a defense/coping mechanism made in response to all the horrible things this boy has endured. He’s Jak’s new friend, one that knows him better than he knows himself.

Welcome to my headcanons, nerds😈

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before I continue, I just need to let everyone know that what I’m about to say isn’t to bash self insert characters that fit in this category. Self Inserts are a form of self love and care that I have no qualms with personally(I have even made my own personal ones in the past) , and you should make them care free. I don’t take them on a level of serious critique solely for this purpose, because they are only for good fun.

Now, with that out of the way- Let me quickly explain how I write Dark Sides personally. I’ll be using my original character, Ebony(the girl in the art in this post of you didn’t know already) as a point of comparison of her dark side to Jak’s.

I write Dark Sides as simultaneously having their own personalities and character, but sharing the same hopes, dreams, goals, and memories as their other halves. I also write them with having their own aging process separate from their other halves entirely.

Example: Ebony’s other half can speak fully developed english and talks like a wiser old woman would than an eighteen year old. The language she uses is almost akin to that of a scolding mother at times, most likely because of the influence in language she received from the people around Ebony when she was younger. All of this is because Ebony received her side at a very young age and it grew alongside her as she grew older.

On the opposite end of that spectrum, Jak’s can’t speak at all, only able to communicate via guttural noises and physical gestures because he was only ‘just born’. However, he also remembers things Jak can’t, like memories from his young childhood in Haven before all the time travel stuff happened, because he’s directly tied to Jak’s subconscious. Sure, it may be blurry and blocked off due to Jak’s subconscious suppression of his memories, but he can still see it unlike Jak.

I also design anyone with a dark side with their own unique physical traits being different. Ebony’s other half has those tear stains not only from a side-effect, but also a representation of the emotion she feels the most: sadness and grief.(I’m gonna be honest that was kind of on accident that I stumbled into, but I’m gonna act like it was deliberate cause I’m a bitch) This could mean that Jak’s horns and sharp claws are representations of his hatred and rage, his burning need to fight back.

Both Ebony’s and Jak’s trauma, like normal people’s trauma in real life, take very different forms and change differently overtime. I write these sides as partially being a metaphor of sorts for that trauma they experienced, while also partially being a representation of how they deal and cope with it.

And when I talk about their trauma, I don’t just mean a source of ‘angst’ for these characters you can just switch on and off when it’s convenient for your story, I mean something in their lives that has fundamentally changed everything about how they experience the world, and they have to learn to cope healthily with it. They won’t be able to ‘grow past it’, as if it didn’t happen, but they will be able to cope with the experiences of the aftermath and find comfort in each other and the people around them.

I specify the word healthily, because Jak obviously wouldn’t be coping healthily at first. He’s a frightened teenager who just went through hell and back, and to him, his personal feelings are getting in the way of him acting with a level head. His Dark Side acting out and going ‘out of control’ is proof of his unhealthy coping mechanism. It’s only acting out because of how Jak really feels deep inside, and him burying his emotions only makes it worse, cause all of those feelings pile up onto his other half. It suffocates his Dark Side, which inevitably could lead to Jak losing himself if he doesn’t change how he copes. He needs to talk to someone, someone he trusts and who knows more than him about his condition.

This is one of the main reasons why I made Ebony in the first place, to explore these concepts. I made her to act as a mentor/sister figure to Jak who helps him to understand his new side and how to better work with him to cope healthier. But, as I wrote her, she became a more hypocritical kind of character, who also stayed silent about her emotions and feelings. Her hypocrisy doesn’t come from pride, though; she doesn’t want to tell anyone, especially Jak, about her own problems when he already has plenty of his own to worry about. It’s a place of misguided and idiotic care for him.

However, instead of this solely staying a psychological problem, it expands into it forming into a physical ailment. Ebony literally almost dies because of her trying to bury her emotions.

Yeah, this is the big difference that I go for in my work. I’m gonna explain my personal three set rules about channeling Eco that really more people should try considering before making characters who use Eco powers willy-nilly(but I’m not the fun police, you can just ignore these. I’d only criticize you if you were to go out of your way to show me an overpowered character ya made and ask me to take it seriously)

The only kind of people who can use Eco safely are Eco-Channelers(AKA: Jak, Keira, and any of the Sage Characters. Possibly Metal Heads) People can be made Eco-Channelers many different ways, via a trial or by the Precursors themselves, or can be born a natural Channeler.

The only alternative way to channel Eco would be to use a catalyst; a piece of technology or a device that uses Eco as power/fuel/ammo(AKA: Jak’s Morph Gun or the Shield Wal)

Anything that deviates from these two groups, living or otherwise, could have serious side-effects that physically impair or seriously harm the individual in question.

Because Ebony isn’t a natural eco channeler, she is dying because of the Dark Eco that inhabits her body. The only way for her to channel the eco safely would be to become a channeler herself.

This is a major problem I have with a few of other original characters with Dark Eco powers is that they don’t set limits or try different things most of the time. That takes away the most interesting parts of a character’s story, the changes they go through when faced with the challenges posed by their faults(AKA: A character arc).

The only memorable instance of someone trying new and interesting things with the concept of Dark Side characters is @sonicringnoise ‘s fic Nothing More, Nothing Less.

THEY MADE SEEM REALLY COOL GUYS, IT’S AMAZING!

You don’t even have to write the dark sides themselves to do this, you just need to make having them be an actual challenge to have, which most writers actually already do. This is the low bar that most of us have already passed, which can’t be said the same for Naughty Dog.

So yeah, long story short, I find dark sides really fascinating, and I believe more interesting things can be done with them outside of having them be a source of ‘angst’ for Jak. It doesn’t have to be specifically the way I posed, and you could find a completely other way to write these and make it interesting.

Hell, writing them *at all* is a miracle of itself, and a low bar that many of us have already passed. Naughty Dog, you had one job, and you failed miserably.

Bye bye~

#jak and daxter #jak and daxter headcanons #jak and daxter au #jak and daxter oc #original character #just ranting #writing problems in J&D

33 notes · View notes