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"Look at my babygirl!!"

shows you the most disgruntled filthy PTSD-laden man ever

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Snippets: Free Day Friday

Continued from yesterday:

"Haven's been decimated. Ash- Praxis is desperate, I knew that. I just-" Jak tilted his head back, stubbornly focused on hanging plants until his eyes didn't water so much.

"I just didn't think she'd go that far. She told me she would tell everyone I was a spy if I didn't cooperate. I thought- I thought she was bluffing, Damas."

"She was not."

Damas stood smoothly, this time taking his staff with him.

A symbol of both authority and judgment.

Jak’s heart sank.

"What you are telling me, boy, is that Ashelin Praxis framed you for betrayal because you...wouldn't betray Spargus?"

Damas lifted his chin and looked down at Jak sternly.

"This is her alleged "logic"?"

Don't panic. Don't panic! What would Daxter do? Breathe, breathe breathe-

Jak kept his composure for a full two seconds, but even he wasn't invulnerable. And at heart, he was still just a kid. A scared, lonely, hurting kid who didn't know who to trust.

"If I'm cast out?" Jak's voice strained, then broke under the weight of his trembling. "If I'm outside the walls, they'll be able to drag me back."

Jak’s pride deserted him entirely. He didn't know what his face looked like, but Damas’s was blurring.

"Don't- don't let them take me back. Please- please! Don't make me go back there, Damas, if it comes to that, just shoot me!"

"Shoot you?!"

Another shuddering breath.

"Death before slavery," Jak choked.

A hand found his shoulder, warm, but so, so heavy.

"Do you have so little faith in me," Damas whispered, "That you think I would pass judgment without even conducting a proper investigation? Do you think so little of yourself that you believe I would so quickly take the word of my enemy's daughter over yours?"

Jak’s shoulders shook silently. It was answer enough.

"Jak, I have to ask you these questions. I don't want to. Frith, I don't want to put you through this!" Damas squeezed his shoulder tighter. "But it must go on official record. As many separate accounts as we can gather, to compare or contrast against your accuser."

"I'm not a spy," Jak insisted. He wiped his nose, mortified and terrified all at once.

"No," said Damas gently, "I don't think you are. But you…you may have brought one into the city with you. In that sense, Ashelin may have been telling the truth -- albeit twisting her words to lead to a different conclusion."

Brought one into the city with you-

"What do you mean?" Jak swallowed hard. "I- I didn't bring-"

"Who is missing, Jak?" Damas interrupted, "Who was here during the Arena trial and yet is no longer clinging to my shadow like oil?"

Stunned, Jak barely noticed the second set of fangs beginning to sprout from his gums.

"Pecker," he snarled.

"I swear on my life, Damas, whatever that's worth, I didn't know."

The king exhaled heavily again.

"Unfortunately, that's no longer relevant, Jak."

"But-"

"Whether you could have known or not, Haven has found our city."

Damas turned aside and ran his fingers along the bladed edge of his glaive.

"For years they have tried and failed to find us. I knew one day they would find the right bait for a trap, but for it to be you, of all people-!"

"I didn't betray Spargus!" Jak burst out, desperately. He couldn't stop himself; he reached out to take hold of Damas’s arm.

Damas pulled his arm swiftly from Jak's grip. Jak flinched back as if he'd been struck across the face. But that same arm reached back to catch the back of Jak's head, halting his retreat.

"Stop."

"Sir-!"

"Stop it, Jak! You're not listening to me!”

Damas drove the butt of the glaive into the stone of the dais, sending an echoing tone over the water. Jak fell silent immediately, chest heaving.

"You're not listening," Damas said again, gentler this time.

"An accusation is not a sentencing. I am gathering evidence, boy! For you, not against you!"

When this did not calm Jak, he bent slightly to rest his forehead against the boy's.

"Look at me. I told you, I don't think you are a spy. I trust you. But right now you need to trust me."

Incrementally, the boy began to take deeper breaths. If he slowed his pulse, perhaps this panic would pass and allow him to think logically.

"There may be more questions. You will be required to give an official account of the meeting at the oasis -- and I'm sorry, but you will have to explain why you didn't report it. But you have to trust me."

A little hysterical, Jak tried to nod, was unable to move his head, and settled for a high, broken, sound of assent.

He couldn't have determined one way or another if his tears were despairing frustration, or pure relief.

Damas believed him. Regardless of any strain between them caused by Jak’s defiance in the Arena, Damas trusted him.

It would have meant little to him in Haven, but Jak had lived among Wastelanders long enough to know that to hold the trust of a king was no paltry gift.

Now shame crept through the dregs of his fear, a skulking latecomer scuffing its feet along his heart.

Damas trusted Jak, and Jak had assumed the worst of Damas. He had assumed almost without question that Damas would find Ashelin's story more believable because of his failure to report it. He'd thought he'd moved past the fear Haven instilled in him!

"Sorry," he began, but Damas cut him off again.

"Jak, do you know why I don't believe Praxis?"

"N- no? I-"

Damas released him and stepped back and away. Lifting his glaive, he scooped a live coal out of the nearest brazier. In one motion, he cast it to the ground and crushed it beneath his heel. Jak stared, bewildered and a bit concerned.

Stooping to brush aside the embers, Damas took a handful of ash and charcoal in one hand. Then he stood and held it out to Jak.

"I don't understand," Jak said, "What does- what are you doing?"

Patiently, Damas raised the remnant of the coal higher.

"What am I holding, boy?"

"It's char-" Jak's eyes widened as it hit him. He blinked back tears and looked up.

"It's charcoal."

"If you had been a spy," Damas insisted, "Haven would have come down on us while I was helpless, fighting the Blackwater virus."

"Oh," whispered Jak.

"Pecker hid in the aviary doing gods know what during that hell," Damas continued, "You and Daxter stayed by my side when I was at my lowest. You concealed my illness from my own Wastelanders, even taking up some of my duties to spare me the strain. That is how I know you would never betray me."

Jak was, in that moment, speechless. He was running on his twenty-sixth hour without sleep. Back to back missions and battles -- he hadn't even told Damas about the Marauder ambush. Was he supposed to tell him about the Marauder ambush?

The king shook the charcoal off his hand and brushed smears of black onto his tunic.

"Jak, do you trust me?"

Shame tried to drag his eyes down, but Jak forced himself to meet the king’s stare.

"Yes."

It's not a state of being. It's a choice. Right? I'm choosing to trust you.

Damas smiled, a little sadly, down at him.

"Son," he said quietly, "This is your Blackwater."

And Jak understood.

Whatever this coming trial entailed, whether the council wanted a full account, or whether they dismissed it with a wave and a scoff; Damas was going to be there. And he was going to be on Jak’s side.

"What do we do about Ashelin?" he asked, "She knows where we are now, doesn't she? What if they fly over the wall to-"

"To die very quickly? Because that's what would happen." Damas brought his staff down again decisively. "Get some sleep, Jak. When Daxter is finished giving his account, he'll be sent home too.”

Jak looked down.

"Can...I wait for him? I'm not- I don't do well. Without him. At night, I mean. It's..."

He trailed off, embarrassed, and wiped his eyes.

"Moral injury." Damas made a sympathetic sound. "That's what my uncle called it when I was a boy. A crime you have endured or witnessed and the way it breaks your understanding of safety and the rules the world follows. Believe me, I understand."

After a moment of hesitation, Damas’s shoulders fell.

"Alright," he said, almost weary in his pronouncement, "I suppose it's too late to have you walking across the city."

He waved an arm toward the concealed hallway.

"You know where the apartment is. Go get cleaned up. You can make your report in the morning."

Gratitude pushed through the cracks in the weight on Jak’s heart, snaking through like roots until the fear began to crumble away.

"Thank you," Jak whispered.

"This likely won't end with just the dismissal of the accusation," Damas warned. "Tomorrow, you and Daxter sit down with me and Sig, and we're going to go over every flaw in Haven's defenses that you can remember. And if Praxis or any of her allies contact you, what do you do?"

"Tell you first?" Jak mumbled.

"Good man. See that you don't forget it."

Damas clapped him on the shoulder once, then nodded to the corridor.

"And for the love of rain put some eco on those ribs! Did you think I didn't see that?" He pointed sternly. "Eco before you rest. We have an ordeal before us, boy, I'm not dragging you through it with your ribs sticking out every which way."

The image was gross and yet Jak found it absurdly humorous. He managed his first smile that day.

"Right, right."

When he had disappeared into the corridor, Damas’s relaxed posture fell away. He tightened his grip on his glaive and stalked to the window.

It had always been inevitable that one day an enemy would find some weakness in their defenses. A chink in Damas’s armor.

And Haven had found his before he knew it himself.

They'd threatened Jak.

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Okay maybe today wasn’t that terrible

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Jak sketch n color (Jak 2 ver) fanart

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Our Seconds Sale is now live! If you missed preorders, head over to jndzine.bigcartel.com to snag what's left!

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Snippets Friday: Jak 3 alternate opening

What if the Spargans and Marauders both found the boys at the same time?

Jak's saving grace was that prisoners were separated by age range in this strange and terrible place. He was dropped onto a cot in a smaller cell across from the raiders that had taken his goggles and jacket and boots before they were all captured. Without the jacket, some of his worse scars had been pretty visible, as well as fresh injuries.

He didn't remember when the field medic stepped into the cell, but at some point he was given water, and highly concentrated eco.

"Easy, kid. Drink slow," the medic directed him. He scowled over his shoulder at the raiders in the other two cells. "Bloody barbarians, letting one of their young'uns get to this state."

The water had barely returned even a fraction of his voice, but it was enough for Jak to whisper,

"I don't know them"

The medic pulled back, concern etched on his pockmarked face. Then a knowing look.

"Rot. Okay, okay-" He stood up and ran a hand over his hood. "I gotta report that. Crap, I hope they didn't already schedule the trial."

Jak's blood ran cold. Trial.

Images of sneering faces, stun rods when he tried to speak, flooded his memory and he twitched nervously.

"T-rial?" he rasped painfully.

"Trespassing and theft, possibly murder," the medic answered, almost distracted. "I guess we gotta add kidnapping to that too. Trial by combat though. If they make it through, they earn a pardon. So. Hope you don't mind, you might have to see em again."

The medic patted his shoulder. "I'm going to send down an eco and electrolyte mixture. Try to drink all of it today. Barring medical emergencies, I'll get the ball rolling on transferring you."

Jak didn't put much stock in that. No one who put him in a cell ever really cared what happened to him. He lay on the thin palette, sweating, barely able to roll to his side even after the eco. At least he knew Daxter had made it out. He'd find Jak. He always did.

Across the room, the Marauder who'd taken his scarf glared at him with murder in his eyes. What was he looking at? Jak wasn't the one who got them locked in cells!

The stare unnerved him more than he cared to admit. He had no idea who the bandit was, and yet the man looked at him as though he recognized him.

"What's the plan for the trial, eh?" one of the Marauders asked quietly.

"What plan?" another scoffed, "It's just survival in these dogs' gladiator games."

"Not what I heard."

The one wearing Jak's coat leaned back against the bars and scratched his cheek.

"You know they got all the water and eco access, Berni. Worse places to try to fit in than this."

The one glaring at Jak snarled. "That's treason, boy."

The young man shrugged. "I'm a practical man. You pass a trial, they let you emigrate. No consequences for anything that came before, you earn your freedom. Access to eco, clean water, and a shot at real power. You tell me that don't sound like a good deal."

Some muttered grudging assents. Others were as angry as the glaring one. One of them went as far as promising to kill the man if he tried to defect.

"You won't make it out of that Arena," he promised, "I'll smash your skull in."

"Pretty cold, big brother."

"I'd rather see you dead than a Spargan," his brother answered coolly.

Jak closed his eyes and tried to block them out.

A combat trial.

Well, unfortunately, that was one thing he excelled at.

This talk of emigration piqued his interest. He'd never technically existed on paper in Haven. He had no legal rights or protections -- which was why the sham trial was able to take place at all: they classified the boy their leader had kidnapped as an undocumented immigrant. An easy target to exploit for labor and then betray.

If this city gave you rights just for surviving, his odds had just gotten a lot better.

______________________________

The guards came to take them to the Arena before Jak had finished the electrolyte solution. Which, he guessed, meant that medic hadn't told whoever was in charge that Jak wasn't a Marauder.

The eight of them were herded unceremoniously up a narrow set of stairs and into the blinding glare of midmorning. They were pushed out onto antigrav platforms at the end of the stairs that ferried them down into a massive stadium. There had to be thousands of people in the stands, far more than Jak remembered seeing at the races.

Out of habit, he looked around for a floating viewing pod for a leader, like Haven would've had. Instead, he saw a balcony high above the center of the south wall. He could barely make out a figure seated a little ways in. Did this place have a Baron too? Spoiled nobles enamored with bloodsport?

A flash of orange along the railing caught his attention, and his eyes widened.

Daxter!

There he was, climbing up into that balcony like a man on a mission. Jak couldn't help the small smile brightening his face as he looked towards the balcony.

Gunnar, the Marauder with his scarf, only seemed to get angrier when he saw Jak's grin.

"Oh don't look so relieved," Gunnar hissed in his ear, "He isn't going to save you, whelp."

"Rot you," Jak retorted, jerking away from him on unsteady feet.

An unpleasantly familiar voice rang out over the ring, announcing the purpose of the combat trial.

Pecker.

That overgrown feather duster had survived?! What, had he gotten work as a sports announcer?

The moncaw was just explaining that their opponents would join them shortly when Gunnar suddenly surged forward to lock an elbow around Jak’s throat. He'd caught him off guard, allowing him to drag the boy several steps away from the others. Jak started to fight his way out of the grip, but halted when he felt the prick of the blade against his neck.

"Just try, whelp," Gunnar laughed, "I'll open your throat right in front of him."

Was he talking about Daxter? Jak scanned the balcony, but didn't see his friend.

Gunnar stepped sideways until they were directly facing the balcony, then raised his voice.

"I'll kill him, Damas!" he threatened, "You want the whelp to live? You're gonna have to come get him."

Who the Frith is "Damas"?!

The figure in the balcony rose and stepped up to the edge. Now Jak could make out a well-built man in his late thirties or so, covered in Precursor metal armor and wielding an impressive looking staff. There was no chance that this was just another warrior. This man carried himself like a ruler.

Jak remembered his face.

That was the man who had led the capture. That was the man who had been driving when he was tossed unceremoniously into the back of a vehicle.

The man folded his free arm behind his back and peered down at Gunnar and his hostage. He did not look impressed.

"You think threatening the life of one of your own -- without giving him the chance to defend himself -- is going to grant you absolution?"

Gunnar bared his teeth. An agressive smile, like a shrimpanzee.

"Didn't get a good look at him in the storm, didja, you old wolf?" He taunted. The blade pushed just hard enough to draw a bead of blood to the surface.

"Get off that throne, or your spawn dies."

"The rot are you talking about?" Jak grunted.

He gripped the restraining arm with one hand, the knife hand with the other, just barely keeping some breathing room. He wasn't strong enough to pry himself loose without injury. He needed an opening first. A distraction.

Daxter appeared as if by magic, leaping up onto the rail beside this Damas person. Jak couldn't hear what he was saying, but by his stiff posture, he knew Daxter was angry. He pointed now and then in Jak’s direction, then at the armored man in an accusing fashion. The man's brows rose in a concerned expression, then lowered quickly. With each passing second, the frown deepened into something much more hostile.

"You are mistaken," he called down at last, "I don't know the boy."

Then he reached back and handed his staff to someone out of sight. He set down two small side arms and a knife on the railing, and straightened a vambrace. A menacing smile cut across his weathered face.

"But," he announced, "if you wish to invoke a blood feud, I am more than happy to oblige regardless."

With that, he stepped down onto the antigrav platform and let it carry him down. On the railing, Daxter turned to face the ring and signed quickly to Jak.

Oh

There was a plan.

Clever, clever Daxter!

He had signed, "Found your opening."

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I can’t wait to finally present my fanart to you guys! It was pretty messy when it came to the hair and Daxter (as he’s an animal), but I pulled through!

I’m going to try to focus on finishing Nami (from One Piece) for now before I get back to Jak And Daxter again, but I will keep making more of this!

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Opposing Forces Finally at Balance

For someone that will complain nonstop about the ending I love Jak 3 so much. Gameplay and most of the story are done so fucking well.

I’m considering making prints of this one btw! I’ll run a few tests and do some color corrections since this one is very PURPLE but if that goes well I’ll make a post about it and send a few out to anyone who wants them!

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Heeeyyyyy :D

Here's some fanart of the demolition duo!! It's been like 5 years since I've drawn them and I have to say my drawing skills have improved 😁 did this in 30 mins super happy how it turned out especially daxter!! I could never get him right before now he looks menacing 😈

Anyways enjoy the art!!

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There's a one video limit but I really wanted to show the floating part off lol

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The good news is, after those naughty dogs not inviting our boys to the Christmas Card, I have an old Christmas artwork of Jak.

The bad news is it's this...

Happy Holidays everyone.

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JnD Fanzine Preorders are OPEN!

Zine preorders are here! Will you be getting the standalone book, the book and merch bundle, or the digital bundle? Both physical bundles include all possible stretch goals, and digital can be added to any bundle for only $7 more!

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Making a Jak to go with my Daxter. I still need to make his tunic and goggles.

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Here are the ideas:

1. Doing a full illustration imitating the cover from Final Fantasy X colors and aesthetic cover but with my style! The composition would be something like this: (needs some work)

Next would be from Miraculous: making little illustrations from moments of the seasons interesting each other or having some wholesome or emotional moment: this would be the look of the characters. The kwamis, I wanted to give them a more personal touch, still deciding if doing the original design or the new one.

And apparently I can just upload 10 images. But the other of Superman and Batman. I think you get the idea.

So I’m doing this poll and see the results to know you opinion:

Thank you so much for your time and have a nice day :D