radioactivepeasant

[radioactivepeasant]

10 years ago I posted a concept of a Zelda AU where the Hero came from the Gerudo, and Zelda was the antagonist.

Thanks to Mr. Lava and Star I’m dusting the idea off

[radioactivepeasant]

@paintedlight1 @apricity-writes you did eventually get me, the soundtrack is in my head at all times

[radioactivepeasant]

A WIP while I rest my hand.. At least I finished the lineart!😭

[radioactivepeasant]

Excellent

It's my mama's birthday + her boss isn't in the office today = I am being an absolute gremlin and bringing her a balloon that was almost too big to fit in my car

[radioactivepeasant]

I CAST✨️ WHOLESOME✨️ moment

@noshirdalal @i-lavabean

[radioactivepeasant]

The plot of the Horizon series according to my kids:

Aloy: Varl!

Varl: Ack! How do you know my name?

Aloy: My Dad said I need to find people and I have to save the world so now you have to follow me for the rest of your life

Varl: can I do other stuff?

Aloy: no

Varl: okay

Apparently also Varl has a "little doggy." The dog in question is a Sawtooth it turns out.

[radioactivepeasant]

Because my brain is just Like This, it rabbit trailed out from this discussion to say "Ah yes the french fry, named for the notorious bard Augustin French, who refused to eat vegetables unless they had been sliced into thin sticks, and who we tragically lost in an incident with a fire-breathing dragon"

But then, I could get away with that if the whole tone of my story was kind of tongue-in-cheek like that, but probably not if it was one of my more serious worldbuilds 😂

i always thought it was silly that people would get so pedantic & heated over the idea of fantasy novels using words derived from real locations like "champagne" or "lesbian" or whatever. "a fantasy setting cant have words that are dependent on real-world context" i have bad news for you about all words

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday

A short snippet of a crossover with Horizon Forbidden West that I made up last year mostly to inflict on @i-lavabean

(Because most of the Wastelander worldbuilding I use is inspired by the Tenakth in that game, so now the Tenakth are Wastelanders)

"How go your reforms, my friend?"

The chief of the Eastern Wastelanders smiled when he was offered a simple cup of water. To many, it would seem paltry. But to the West Island, the giving of water was an extremely serious tradition of hospitality between clan leaders. Hekarro accepted the cup with a nod, acknowledging the gift, and wondered what his own Desert Clan would think of it.

"Ah. They go on as one expects."

Hekarro's host was a man just reaching forty -- no small feat for a Wastelander -- though hardship had aged his features sooner. Like Hekarro, Damas had come into his own in a people constantly torn by war. But where Hekarro had sought to unify his three clans, Damas had to kill the chief of the Western territories in order to bring about peace.

Well. Peace as it looked among the Ten Clans. Perhaps not so peaceful to outsiders.

"We've managed to cut the bloodsport down to Provings in Spargus." Damas rubbed his chin, careful not to smear the paint that gave him the visage of a wolf.

"The commanders of Longstump and Foothills were far quicker to accept an end to the raiding -- but then, they have an abundance of metalheads to hunt instead of each other."

"It is not easy to undo so many generations of tradition, is it?" Hekarro asked with some sympathy.

He looked around the extinct caldera and his eyes found Kotallo -- they usually did. He wanted so badly for the boy to get out of his own head. But with his chosen Commander abroad, Kotallo had rather forlornly returned to the Grove to prepare the new Marshals for something new. Some threat from the stars.

Kotallo held a cup of water stoically, but there was a spark in his eye that suggested he wasn’t completely displeased with whatever conversation he was having with the Spargus Clan recruit.

Ten Precursors that recruit was small. No bigger than Kotallo had been when he first came to Hekarro!

The thought of that small frame, weighed down with the pain of being rejected by Tekkoteh-

Damas followed Hekarro's gaze, and a gusty, exasperated sigh left him.

"Oh what is he doing now?"

As if feeling their eyes, the short one looked over and made an expressive grimace at his chief.

Damas narrowed his eyes, tapped them, then pointed at the boy in the universal signal, "I'm watching you".

What?! The recruit threw the word across the caldera in the sign language used between clans. What'd I do?!

If you start trouble with a High Marshal, so help me Ten you're not leaving the city again until you're twenty!

I didn't even do anything yet, leave me alone!

Damas groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Forgive him, he's...young."

Hekarro let out a wheezing laugh. "That one's not been long in the Clans, has he?"

"No." Damas frowned and looked away from Kotallo and the insolent recruit.

"The...the Havenites abandoned him to die in the Wasteland. I found him before they got their wish. He-"

His head snapped to the side to shoot a glare at the boy in question, who was now halfway up the rock face.

"Jak! What did I just say?!"

"I'm not fighting this time!" Jak yelled back in bewildered annoyance, "Kotallo's timing me!"

Kotallo cringed and raised a hand. "Apologies. We were discussing...adaptations made with eco. It was I who asked for a demonstration."

"Get down before you break your neck!"

Damas shook his head and turned back to Hekarro, fuming.

"No understanding of authority, completely reckless, thinks he's invincible-!"

Hekarro's laugh took on more substance. "So do many recruits so young! And he was not raised in the Ten, you said-"

"He wasn't raised at all," Damas grumbled under his breath.

"It took the medics six days to treat him without him biting them!"

Ah. That was something else again, wasn't it? A twinge of melancholy rushed over Hekarro as his eyes were inevitably drawn back to his youngest Marshal.

"It is," he began slowly, "a hard thing -- a terrible thing -- to be outcast as a child."

He thought of Kotallo, thin and pale with the oversaturation of eco. Eyes trained on the ground for days while Hekarro tried everything he could think of to make him feel safe again.

"Without the protection of a clan, there are so many things that can break the spirit. My young one," Hekarro pointed shamelessly to Kotallo, "He was...very much like yours in a way. His commander exiled him for fear that his clan might choose the boy as a new leader. He was sixteen."

The anger curled around his guts was duller now than it had been six years ago, but it still burned. How could Tekotteh reject a boy who's only sin was trying to make him proud?

"It took time...more time than I like to admit...for him to trust authority again. There were many, many -- so many -- days where his recklessness nearly got him killed."

Damas didn't like being counseled, but he accepted it grudgingly. If Hekarro's boy had turned out a Marshal, he must've been doing something right.

"What do you suggest, then?" he sighed.

Hekarro was quiet for a moment, allowing his thoughts to solidify. He took a breath before answering.

"My advice? Go gently with him, Wolf. If he's anything like my boy, he's got scars you can't see, under the surface. Earn his trust first. Make him understand that he is safe with you. Everything else falls into place after."

Damas winced, but he nodded and held his tongue.

_____________________________________

"You don't have talk-boxes in the East?"

Jak trailed along behind Kotallo, almost tripping over a few people.

"How do you talk to your friends on the mainland?"

A smile tugged the marshal's cheek. He turned, and bent slightly to show Jak the sleek device attached to his ear.

"Fire and spit!" the smaller boy cursed in delight, "That's old Precursor crap!"

"Aloy is...very accomplished at making old things run like new," Kotallo bragged. "We call it a Focus. Here, try it yourself."

It was fairly obvious when Jak started seeing the information readouts. He stumbled around, head whipping back and forth like he couldn't take everything in fast enough.

"Whoa! Whooooa!"

A wide grin was plastered to his face as he tapped the Focus experimentally.

"Gah! Daxter! I can see my bones! Actually, that's creepy. How do I turn that off?"

Kotallo snorted and reached over to tap the device. "Better?"

"Yeah," Jak laughed. "Man, this is so cool! You can see so much!"

He stopped and made a face.

"Wow. How- How is your friend carrying that many knives? How are they staying in her clothes?!"

Kotallo glanced up at Ivirra and sighed. "I've...learned not to question it."

The recruit continued to scan the Wastelanders around him with a smile until the Focus passed over his clan's chief. All at once the smile was gone, replaced with confusion. The confusion dissolved quickly into consternation, and Jak hastily ripped the Focus from his ear.

"Here. You should take this back now." He all but shoved it into Kotallo's hand. "I um. I gotta go find Daxter."

Kotallo blinked, then shrugged. A warm presence at his left shoulder -- always choosing the side with his stump -- let him know that he wasn't alone.

"You realize that now you've let him play with that thing, Island Clan is going to want Focuses too?" Hekarro teased.

Kotallo smirked up at him. "Well. I know where to get more, should they have good enough items to trade."

[radioactivepeasant]

Oh man especially with the proportions the official Jak and Daxter valentine from 2014 had!!!

The noodliest little beans!

But not whatever is going on with Jak's ears there, that don't look right

Sony's animation style with Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse and Kpop Demon Hunters would be excellent with a Jak and Daxter film if it were to ever be made.

[radioactivepeasant]

This has been stuck in my head for an hour

[radioactivepeasant]

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.

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday

Remember the Blackwater au (Damas takes a very unwilling sick day, Jak ends up taking temporary control of the city, no one has fun)?

This is from a little later in the story that I keep forgetting to post parts of. Featuring my perennial "give Ashelin more complexity as morally ambiguous/sheltered than the games did"

Jak ignored the talk-box the rest of the night. He went home, he patched up the new scars he was probably going to have from the Marauder ambush. He did some gun maintenance. He had no intention of going back out that night.

"Jak."

Jak threw a shirt over the talk-box.

"Go away, Ashelin. I'm not leaving the Wastes and that's final."

"Jak, listen. I didn't want to have to do this, but you've left me no choice."

Jak froze midway through winding bandages around his ribs. "What are you talking about?"

"I told you what would happen, Jak, but you just wouldn't listen. If this is the only way I can make you see their true colors, then so be it."

She'd been bluffing. He thought she'd been bluffing!

Jak swallowed hard.

"He won't believe you."

He wished he felt as confident as he sounded.

"Don't count on it. Damas isn't a forgiving man. It doesn't have to be this way, Jak. You can still leave."

"Rot with your dead gods!" Jak snarled, cutting off the transmission before he'd even finished the curse.

This was bad. This was very very bad. Jak didn't know how convincing of a liar Ashelin was. But after having just come off of a tedious punishment mission for open defiance, Jak was less than confident in his own credibility.

He jumped when the knock came.

Daxter squeaked and accidentally tugged a bandage too tight.

"Agh!"

"Sorry!"

The voice outside the door was one of the city watchmen.

Law enforcement.

"Hey, Jak! You in there?"

"Yep," Jak wheezed, "Door's open."

I didn't do anything wrong. If I show fear, they'll think I'm guilty.

The door slid open to allow Jin, a broad-shouldered man a good several inches taller than Jak, to duck inside. He cast dark eyes around the sparse room before falling on Jak.

"Oooh." Jin sucked in a breath through his teeth. "That looks ugly. What happened?"

Daxter didn't even think to choose his words carefully.

"Some idiot from Haven decided to go sightseeing at the oasis and brought a whole platoon of Marauders down on us."

At the mention of Haven, Jin's face went blank.

He glanced out the door at his companion.

"Haven? What were they doing on our soil?"

He didn't sound as surprised as he should have. News must have traveled fast.

"Practicing for the Audacity Olympics." Daxter glared as he taped off the last bandage.

"Gods, I hate that woman."

Jak knew clarification wouldn't clear his name, but he figured he might as well.

"One of the people who dumped me out there to die in the first place. Showed up pretending to be all remorseful."

"...uh-huh."

Jin took a slow breath.

"Look. Jak. I...man, I hate this as much as you're about to hate it. But I gotta take you in to answer some questions."

"What kind of questions?" Jak fished around for his shirt and painfully shrugged it back on over his bandages.

Jin offered him a hand up, uncharacteristically serious.

"It's...not good, kid. I'm rooting for this all to be a misunderstanding, but- well. King has to do his due diligence whether or not it's true."

Jak swallowed hard and let the guard pull him to his feet. "I understand. I'll um. I'll do my best to clear things up."

It was midnight when he was brought to the tower. In the darkness, lit only by braziers, the throne room lost its peaceful, welcoming air. It felt more like a trap now: a web, with its primary occupant standing gravely at its center.

Damas’s face was completely blank. Not a single emotion lingered behind his eyes as he held up a miniature radio transmitter before Jak.

Wordlessly, he pushed a button on the side, and a recording played.

"Damas. It's Ashelin Praxis. Out of fairness, I feel obligated to warn you that your city is no longer as hidden as you thought. It's not your fault you brought a spy into your fold. Jak has fulfilled his purpose there. Send him back to me, unharmed and without hostilities. and I can guarantee that we will not retaliate."

The recording clicked off, and Damas examined Jak's horrified face.

"Would you care to weigh in on that, Jak?"

This was much worse than Jak had feared.

"It's a lie!" Jak whispered when his voice failed him. "She’s ly- she's lying!"

"About which part?" asked Damas.

"All of it!" Daxter spat. "She's a soulless jorogumo and she's retaliating against us for telling her to buzz off!"

Jak jostled his shoulder to warn Daxter not to say so much. But it was too late.

Damas’s voice was a flat, dead, thing.

"Then you have been in contact with Haven."

"No!" Jak fought to control his breathing. "I haven't, I swear! She- Ashelin called me four hours ago. Right- Right after we got back from the nest. I don't know how she found my frequency!"

A deep pain welled up behind Damas’s eyes, behind the mask of indifference. He folded his hands behind his back and stepped closer to Jak.

"I need you to understand, boy: this a very serious accusation. And no matter my personal feelings, I am obligated to investigate."

"But it's not true!"

Damas closed his eyes and turned his face away.

"I'm sorry, Jak."

He took a slow breath.

"Faro, Jin, take Daxter down to Coryn for separate questioning. Leave Jak here."

"Wait!" Jak made a futile grab for Daxter, who screeched as he was lifted off of Jak's shoulder.

"Let go of me! Let go, ya big bully!"

Daxter fought and swore all the way to the elevator.

Jak felt like a piece of him had been taken.

Without Daxter, how was he supposed to manage the fear?

"Jak," said Damas gravely, "You are many things, but a liar is not one of them. So. I am going to ask you four questions. And I will only ask them once."

Trembling inside, Jak clenched his fists.

"Okay."

"Have you, or have you not, been in contact with the leaders of Haven City?"

"No! I haven't!"

You have to believe me! Please, please believe me!

"Did you, at any point, consider doing so?"

"Never!" Jak answered firmly.

"Have you ever described or alluded to your city in the presence of outsiders?"

"I swear I didn't, Damas."

The king looked as disturbed as before as he asked his final question.

"Then can you tell me why I would have received a message like this?"

"...Yes.”

Damas walked back to his throne with a heavy tread.

He sat and closed his eyes.

"I'm listening, Jak."

"I- it-" Jak struggled for the words. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to string them together smoothly even in sign.

"She showed up at the oasis. Called my comm and told me to meet her there."

"And you went because-?"

Jak tensed. "Because I was afraid that if I didn't, she'd fly that hellcat over the island until she found Spargus."

Damas didn't open his eyes, but his brows were low and tight.

"Why did you not report this to me, Jak?"

That was a hard question to answer. It meant addressing the emuphant in the room.

But if he wanted to get out of this trap Praxis had laid for him, he had to go through with it.

"I...thought..."

"Speak up, Jak," Damas said sharply.

Nerves fluttered in Jak’s belly, fighting to escape.

"I...thought I needed to keep my head down. Not bother you for a couple days. Because of the...the Arena…thing."

The king sighed in exasperation. He propped his forehead on his hand and gestured vaguely to Jak with his other arm.

"If you had told me, young Praxis would have had no foothold to bring an accusation against you."

He opened his eyes at last.

"Now: tell me why she has done this."

Jak’s ribs twinged as he folded his arms protectively over them. Had Damas noticed that he wasn't wearing armor, or even his channeling ring? Did he see the raw scrape up the side of Jak's face?

Did he care?

"She wanted me to go back to Haven and fight for her. I think- there's this council guy, a count -- whatever that is -- who got me exiled. They're rivals. She didn't say it but-"

"She wants me to take out her enemies for her," he spat, "She wants the "Dark Warrior" her father couldn't break me into. I said no."

The shame of it, the indignity roiled in his stomach, burned against old scars.

The mention of Praxis Senior left Damas rigid, spine straight.

"...the scars," he breathed after a terrible silence. "Jak. Jak, look at me. Did Praxis give you those scars? When you were younger?"

Even an allusion to the Dark Warrior Program left Jak lightheaded. The lights of the brazier danced and swam in front of his eyes, and the water wheel descended into muffled ringing. As if from underground, he heard himself answer, "Yes."

He dug his nails into his biceps until the pain grounded him, brought him back to the moment.

To the interrogation.

"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 see." Damas pressed his lips together until they turned white. An almost absent-minded gesture gave Jak permission to continue.

"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."

(Cont'd tomorrow)

[radioactivepeasant]

Being a little vulnerable here but the world is frankly scary right now and I want to get my thoughts together about it. In a world that uses hate and fear to divide, I will choose compassion and I will choose to listen and to learn. I want to love good more than I fear evil.

[radioactivepeasant]

Me: what's with the ball wearing a tutu?

Babybean: yeah.. He has pwoblems

[radioactivepeasant]

👆🏻 me, devouring this animation 😍😍😍

You don’t want to know how long I spent staring at each frame of the Gravity Falls opening to use as a reference for this

[radioactivepeasant]

GOT SOME

Not a pistol, per se, but close?

Hi, I've been reading radio's Jak and Daxter wips for AGES, and seeing all your wonderful art reblogged there and how cute your drawings of you and your family are, and- do you take suggestions for art? If so, I think a pic of Dax w a little Eco pistol sized for him and a holster, maybe also a little ghostbusters-style backpack to give it more oomph? Cos he's a crack shot with Jak's gun, but the size of it! And he needs smth to defend himself if Jak's not there - plus, you KNOW he'd pose w it!

First, thank you so much that's so kind of you! I love Radio's JnD WIPs, they're the best!

Sometimes I file away suggestions for later but I'm in an art block and that sounds hilariously adorable. I'll have to look up what an eco gun looks like!

[radioactivepeasant]

Jak and Daxter !!

Finally finished a proper fan art of them ooooOOOOOHHHAAAA. Yeah it's mostly Dax because I like his human form... I mean he's cool I guess I don't like him- ANYWAY WHO CARES, LOOK AT JAK. DAMN HE LOOKS ADORABLE I need to draw him again🤲