#anyway i have a lot of feelings about jak

[sparguscityangel]

boggles my mind that critics called jak whiny in the second game

he was tortured and experimented on for two years as a teenager. he had his entire world view and perception of humanity shattered. his body doesn’t feel like his own. for fucks sake, they even played the death theme when he was arrested, cementing the fact that he died and his body is walking around an unknown city, one that is eerily familiar yet carries the weight of trauma and fear for him. his entire support system treats him like a ticking time bomb, and the only one that doesn’t still flinches away from him. jak in the second game is a hero in the aftermath of their adventure. he’s the broken, ugly truth of what heroism does to a person. he’s achilles, driven by rage and bloodlust and revenge for those who hurt him. the first words he ever utters is a promise to kill the man who did this to him (a promise he doesn’t even get to keep). in all the games, he is truly at his lowest in the second installment, so yeah, i think he’s going to be a little cranky.

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER ONE (BAHRAIN)

genre: fluff, angst, etc.

warnings: hmmm nothing i think

word count: 5.3k

author's note: aaaa first chapter !! i don't rlly like it but still !!!! a very much opener/get-to-know-the-characters/intro chapter, so maybe boring at times idk. still so excited, thanks to everyone who's contributed. love u all <333

author's note pt2: when i write about the different drivers and their living situations, i know it's not all accurate to how they actually live irl. ik i wrote modena instead of maranello here for ollie although idk exactly when he moved, but there are mentions of milton keynes for the rbj drivers bcs it made it easier for me. anyways, just go with whatever i say about how they live lol. also !!!! i changed yn's team from mp to campos hehe. okay now let's start :)

series masterlist

the winter break coming to an end is always a bittersweet feeling.

having a lot of free time to catch up with friends and family is always greatly appreciated, but at the same time, it doesn't take many days before you miss racing after the last race of the season. especially when the season is as short as the f3 season is, and especially when you don't partake in any of the winter-season races.

this year, though, coming back to the paddock doesn't feel as complicated as it most often does. your heart is light and your smile is big as you enter through the gates after the long taxi ride from your hotel, and you already can't wait to get started.

as you make your way toward the campos truck, you greet a few people you meet here and there, but it's the sight of a head full of dark, curly hair that makes you stop in your tracks. "jak!"

the american turns around when he hears your voice, grin taking over his face already. you strut all the way over to him, practically throwing yourself into his arms. "hey there," he chuckles, giving you a big hug.

"oh, i've missed you so much!" you exclaim, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away. "it feels like i haven't seen you in ages."

"right? the break was way too long."

juan pokes his head through the door to the truck when he hears your voices, making some kind of comment about all of these loud teenagers always causing a commotion, before coming down to greet you with a hug as well. "how was your break?" he asks.

"wonderful, really. i spent most of it at home, catching up with family and friends. then me and ollie-" your eyes widen at your own words. you clear your throat, looking away from both of the boys for a second. "well, i went to italy."

your relationship with ollie isn't exactly a secret around the paddock, but it's a bit of an unspoken rule not to mention it too much. both because you all want to separate your personal lives from your racing ones – you don't wish to crash into a close friend like jak any more than you'd like to crash into ollie, after all – and because a certain other driver might be around to hear.

someone who's quite the conflict of interest in this specific topic.

your break truly was wonderful. it felt like the only things on your schedule were skiing in the italian mountains, gym-and sim-training, and just relaxing at home in england to recharge for the next season. you had spent a lot of it with ollie, getting to know both him and his family better. it hadn't taken you long before you were best friends with his little sister, sharing little inside jokes and spending time cheering her on at the stable. and you'd even grown surprisingly close with ollie's younger brother, and you loved seeing the three siblings interact.

they all made you feel truly at home with them, like an extended family. you couldn't have asked for anything more.

ollie was well-known in your family even before the break, especially considering how he was one of the first drivers your father picked out for the academy. and during the break, he only further impressed them; he always helped out with household tasks, he did his best to create connections to every relative of yours that he met, and he even bought the sweetest little christmas presents for your parents and grandparents. however, just the mention of italy in your current conversation is enough to make the dams drivers understand. no other detail is necessary.

when you're done talking about your break, it's juan's turn, and then jak's. during the catchup, more and more people drop by to say hello, and it doesn't take long before there's a full-on gathering outside the dams truck. dennis, another one of your former academy members, and pepe, your new teammate and newly found platonic soulmate, both listen in as jak tells you all about how jetlagged he is after coming back from the states just two days ago. "have you gotten properly settled in with aston?" you ask with a smile.

"totally. it's been great, honestly. even the apartment they found for me is top-notch."

"oh? better than milton keynes?"

jak raises his eyebrows at you, and then he bursts out laughing. "duh." throughout the many years of living next-door from each other, there wasn't a single day when the two of you didn't complain about something the apartment complex. the smell, the noise, the trails of blood in the staircase; not exactly things you'll miss when you move out one day.

"i still can't really believe we're not neighbors anymore," you complain, jutting out your bottom lip as you speak. "i've been so close to knocking on your old door so many times, but now some other freak lives there-"

"hey!" pepe shoves your shoulder, and the whole group laughs. "you're much worse than i am!"

"i'm so glad i finally moved out of there," dennis chimes in. "if i had been neighbors with y/n and pepe at the same time… i don't think i would've gotten any sleep at all, man."

"i didn't get any sleep for four years when i lived there..." jak groans.

"is this your first time in a series together?" juan jumps in, looking between you and jak, but seems surprised when you both nod. "best friends but you've never raced each other? maybe this season is what forces you apart."

"yeah, what will you do if i crash into you when you're in the lead?" jak teases, pressing an elbow into your side.

"then i think a few compromising pictures of you might make their way to the aston martin headquarters..."

when it's like this, being on the same grid with all of these people is so easy. you're all friends, not opponents. all in the same boat with the same excitement and expectations for the season. unfortunately, you know it won't stay this uncomplicated for long. when you're actually out on track in a few weeks, forcing each other into the walls and swearing at each other over the team radios, there won't be any more happy faces.

but for now, you enjoy smiling with the people who are just as much your friends as they are your enemies. that is, until you spot someone else joining your little group.

paul.

suddenly, the smile feels much more forced; the air is thicker and harder to breathe in. and when he makes his way over to you, a lump forms in your throat.

a lump you understand probably won't disappear all season.

the second you're back in your hotel room, you reach for the little dark blue book you've hidden in your bedside drawer. the pen in your hand is one you've had for years, one you always bring with you to every race weekend. the ink has been refilled possibly hundreds of times, but the plastic body has remained the same ever since you bought it.

the journal itself is torn; it's been used and loved for many years, too. it's like an extra best friend, a second home. when you're writing in it, it's one of the few times you feel like you can actually be your true, authentic self – it's one of the few times when you're not afraid that someone will judge your emotions or thoughts.

today, you know what you want to write about instantly.

i saw paul for the first time since abu dhabi.

i haven't been able to stop thinking about him. no matter how hard, i couldn't get him out of my mind. i've been wondering what he looks like now, how his voice has changed, if his smile is still as bright. and suddenly, he was there and i saw him.

the answer? he's just as he always was. and i can't tell if that makes me feel alright or awful.

you're pulled out of your head by the sound of a knock on your door, and you instantly scramble to hide your journal in the drawer again. the second you pull the door open and ollie's gaze meets yours, it's like all of your previous thoughts disappear. it's just you and him again; no one else even exists.

especially not paul.

"are you ready to go?" ollie asks, hands finding your sides as he leans in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. "i found the address of some good pasta place, it's just a few blocks from here."

you nod, your hands landing on top of his and giving them a quick squeeze before pulling away. "i just need to put on some earrings," you start, backing into the room. "will you help me choose?"

"of course."

"carlos set a stunning lap today. did you see it?"

the question makes you roll your eyes, letting out a sigh as you bring out three plates from the cupboard above the stove. your dad has always been quick to comment on anything good regarding ferrari; to anyone living in the max verstappen era, even a sliver of a good result is enough to spark some hope, so you aren't exactly surprised. "yes, dad. of course i saw it."

"i reckon this will be our year," your dad continues as you walk past him cooking by the stove, carrying the plates to the dinner table. "carlos will make them regret getting lewis instead of him."

you can't help the chuckle that leaves your mouth. your mom gives you a knowing glare over her newspaper – don't start anything. you choose to ignore it. "you really think this is how it's going to look next week during the actual race?" you ask. "you don't think max is sandbagging the slightest?"

"i'm just telling you," your dad starts, giving his stew a good stir. the snarky tone in his voice is unmistakable. "don't come home crying to me when you realize red bull isn't going to cut it anymore. if you regret your choices, go somewhere else."

even like this, when you're back home for a few days to catch up with your family, neither of you can stay away from this bickering. your dad is always pestering you about sticking with the red bull junior team, and you never can back down from a fight. you're way too stubborn.

"are you saying that i wouldn't have a place in ferrari if i wanted to?" you set the plates down with a thud, the sound making your mother flinch in her seat by the table. "you would say no to your only daughter, huh?"

"i'm just saying that you'd need to prove yourself to get into the academy."

despite your harsh tones, most people around you think you're just joking around when you act like this; some family-mockery can never hurt, right? however, there's always a hint of seriousness behind it. it's been like this between the two of you forever, and especially ever since your dad became the head of the ferrari driver academy – the rivalry between you two is stronger than ever.

you've always been sure of your choice; you've always felt like the red bull family is perfect for you. but recently, you've started to wonder if staying with the team actually was the right thing for you. what really is your future in the team? it's not like you haven't got great drivers ahead of you, drivers who will be called in for a possible f1 seat before you.

and it's not like red bull has a stellar record of keeping all of their drivers. they only have four seats in formula one, after all.

your dad wants you in ferrari, that much is clear. you may have joined the red bull junior team because of his past with the team; he did win their first ever championship, after all. accepting was the only option when you got the offer to join. however... your dad really wants you in ferrari. there's just something about the brand, the colors and the history that obviously is intriguing for everyone. even lewis hamilton couldn't stay away, for god's sake.

you can't admit it, though. not here, not right now.

so instead, you choose to fight fire with fire. "bullshit," you mumble under your breath before speaking clearly again. "second in the championship last year wasn't proof enough?"

"stop this," your mom says, folding up her newspaper and placing it on the table. you roll your eyes yet again but look back at her when she speaks again. "new subject: how is our dear ollie doing?"

you visibly relax at the question, your heart softening in your chest. "he's good. he's back in modena now, so..."

if it had been your dad asking about ollie, you know it would've been because he's interested in how the academy is doing. but since your mom is the one asking, you know it's real concern and curiosity. "how did he find the new car? did he enjoy testing?"

"not really," you say, slipping into the seat opposite your mum as your dad places the pot of stew in front of you on the table. "though, you know, the prema cars are never that good in bahrain. but he assumes they'll bounce back."

there's something in your dad's tone when he speaks again that makes you stop in the middle of your reach for the ladle. "yeah, so i've heard..." it's almost sarcastic, maybe a bit... irritated?

you turn towards him, a frown on your face. "what?"

"william," your mom says with a shake of her head. she knows something. "let's not go there." but just as you're about to call them out on how strange they're acting, she speaks again: "what do your upcoming weeks look like? for how long will you be back in england?"

anyone with eyes – or even without, to be fair – can tell that they're hiding something. and while your curiosity is killing you, you're not in the mood for a full-fledged fight at this time. you take the high road, which isn't your most familiar way of handling things like this, and try your best to push away any wishes to question your parents. you answer, engage in polite conversations and chat about your upcoming season. then, you thank them for dinner and leave the house after giving them their respective kisses on their cheeks.

but all evening, your mind is on something else. and when you get back home to your apartment, your fingers itch to send ollie a text asking if he knows anything. but instead, you go to bed with a knot in your stomach. maybe it's a topic for another day.

being back in the car for testing was great, but it was nothing compared to being back on the track for an actual race weekend. the first round of the championship was something you'd looked forward to for what felt like years, and now it was finally time. you've never been more excited, or nervous, for any race weekend.

you weren't off to the best of starts, though. qualifying has always been one of your stronger suits, so coming 13th was not a result you had anticipated. thankfully, it meant you had time to practice overtaking and had a good chance of improving your place. having to start right behind pepe and paul in both races was an interesting coincidence, but you were obviously not going to let any of it affect your racing.

though p8 is not the best place to finish, you are actually quite pleased with having gained several positions in the sprint race and taking your first point of the year. the car was, as you knew it would be, very different from the f3 car, although you were surprisingly confident and managed it well despite the circumstances.

paul, too, handled it all very well – p12 to p5 is a great record. and when he sees the timing board and realizes that you also did well considering the circumstances, he's overjoyed. he's practically bouncing down the paddock when he finally gets out of his car, accepting the fans' cheers and the handshakes from his engineers with a big grin. and when he sees you further down the paddock, his mind is filled with memories of the two of you celebrating your good placements in all other categories.

just because you aren't a couple now doesn't mean you can't honor these results together, right?

but just a second later, he realizes that you're surrounded by the familiar red-clad staff members instead of your own campos staff, and you're standing right by that red prema car he knows so well. and, sure enough, soon the person he'd forgotten about steps up to you.

paul watches as you wrap your arms around ollie's shoulders, and his heart sinks in his chest. your boyfriend hides his face in your shoulder and your hand comes up to stroke the skin on the back of his neck. paul can tell how your lips are moving, and the pout you're showing off tells him enough about what's going on even though he can't actually hear what you're saying. you aren't prioritizing being happy about your own race – it's more important to comfort ollie.

to paul, there's something so unsettling about the sight. he's seen the two of you together many times before – besides, he gets tagged in pretty much every picture a fan takes of you with your boyfriend – but it isn't your proximity that he has issues with.

the thing that upsets him is the fact that there's a frown stretched across your features; one that doesn't leave even when you part from ollie, or when you're cheered on by your mechanics, or when you leave for your post-race interviews. a frown that any other time would be replaced with a big, proud smile because of your accomplishments.

the music blasting into your ears from your airpods cuts out the rest of the world, the usually so busy and loud paddock all gone the second you pressed the play button on your phone. it's been your favorite way of getting in the race mood for years; you're not superstitious in many other ways, but your playlist has stayed the same since your first season in f4. walking around the garage, doing your warmups, or even just sitting around and waiting to get in the car like you are right now, you listen to the exact same songs on repeat. it's one of the few things that makes you truly focus on the race ahead of you.

so when you feel two hands on your shoulders from behind, you jump in your seat. turning your head, you're relieved to see the big smile of pepe shining down at you. "did i scare you?" he asks loudly enough to cut through the music, and you barely have time to nod and take one airpod out before he speaks again. "good, that was my intention."

you slide your airpods into their case as pepe plops into the seat next to you, eyes zoning in on the f3 feature race on the screen in front of you. "i'm so upset," you huff, shaking your head. "did you see the start?"

"i heard," he answers just as dino's red car appears on the screen, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "but he's made up ten places already, right?"

"yeah..." you lean your head onto his shoulder with a sigh. "we should focus on the positives. like chris!"

"and like our upcoming race." you can practically hear his grin when he speaks. "i have a good feeling about it."

when you found out that jak was leaving the red bull junior academy last fall, you were heartbroken. he's been one of your closest friends ever since you first met; the two of you have always been joined by the hip, despite how you've never raced in the same series before, and you spent most of your free time either training together or just hanging out. how would you ever get over him leaving you all alone in the academy?

thankfully, pepe joined in the late summer. at first, you were just acquaintances, but something about his personality was too good not to fall for. it didn't take long for him to become one of your closest friends, too. another boy your age, another boy with crazy energy and amazing potential – he filled the void in your heart quite well.

as well as jak's old apartment.

you'd raced each other in f3 last season, though barely ever crossed paths or talked. but living next to each other, doing all of your sim work together, and now even being on the same team meant that your relationship went from zero to one hundred in just days.

this season is your first with campos, while he's been with the team for several years already, and so far he's been very good at helping you get used to everything off track. they took a big chance choosing two rookies for their lineup, and the two of you promised each other to do your best to make them satisfied with their choice. so far, you've gotten one third and eight place in your first-ever f2 race – and you're just getting started.

"i do, too," you hum. "let's go out there and show them today."

paul is beaming when you see him stroll back to the paddock after his media duties. his cap is perched on top of his head – the right cap, finally – and his fingers are still tightly wrapped around the neck of his champagne bottle. when he notices you leaning against the doorframe leading into the f2 hospitality, his smile grows even bigger.

you meet him halfway, arms wrapping around his shoulders easily, just like they have so many times before. one of his arms drapes around your waist and he holds you close, a hum vibrating from his chest. finally, he thinks to himself; this definitely makes up for all of the things he felt yesterday.

"congrats, paul," you tell him. "that was amazing. you were amazing."

"thank you," he says before pausing. then, he lets out a chuckle. "to be honest, i wasn't sure if you would care."

you frown at him when you pull slightly away from him, just enough to look into his eyes. is that what he really thought? that you wouldn't care about his driving? "oh, please. you still mean a lot to me, okay?" your hand moves down to his upper arm, giving it a soft squeeze. "i still consider you to be one of my closest friends."

friends. the word stings like a knife in his heart. it's been months since you broke up, and yet, it still feels like a raw wound.

paul forces a smile. he understands that despite how painful it is, there's something good in it. there's still a place for him in your heart, even if he's forced to share it with someone else.

he pulls you in again, and the hug is even tighter now than before. it's a comforting feeling; you're both at peace, with a good weekend behind you, in the arms of someone so close to you. after everything you've gone through together, but especially everything he has gone through these last few months with the mercedes academy and prema, you're finally through to the other side. "it all worked out in the end, huh?" you ask after a few moments of silence.

"i guess it did." you part from each other to leave that oh-so-familiar gap between you yet again. "will you be celebrating with us tonight? i think pepe had something planned. you know how he is."

you snort. "yeah, i do know. maybe i will." you shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms over your chest as your eyes dart to the ground. "but, um... i'll have to check with..."

you don't even say his name – you don't have to. ollie's entire weekend has been so far from everyone's expectations, and if you know him correctly, he will not be in the mood for celebrations tonight.

paul nods slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "right."

the silence that follows is so awkward you can't help but chew on your bottom lip, a tiny sigh escaping through your mouth. he must be hating this, you think – today is supposed to be only a good day for him, he shouldn't have his ex's new relationship pushed up in his face.

"well, i have a debrief to get to," you make up, flashing him a quick smile. "congrats again, paul."

"thank you." he gives you another nod, before turning away and making his way towards the paddock. "pepe will text you!"

and just like that, he's off, and your mind wanders to the thought of actually going out to celebrate. ollie will definitely not join you, though you're not sure why you don't want to go without him. is it because you'd rather stay and comfort him?

or is it because you're scared of what you'll do, or feel, when you're alone with paul for the first time since you broke up?

"p5 is still good, my dear." your mom's voice booms out from the speakers of your phone as you drop it onto the desk, and you can't help but let out a sigh, taking a step back.

"of course, but... i feel like i could've done more." it was both true and not; with paul's five-second penalty, you definitely could've gained at least one more position if only you had stayed within that gap. but then again, a fifth position and ten more points was a great result for a rookie.

"but you'll still be going out to celebrate with your friends, right?"

you ended up telling pepe you weren't in the mood to party, despite his persistent complaints, and decided to instead use the evening for relaxation and recovery. your entire body, especially your neck, has really suffered this weekend – you were already sore after the shakedown, but this is on another level – so a bubble bath and a good night's sleep in your hotel room seemed like a much better choice.

"no, i'm just going to rest a little..." you hum, flopping down on the chair by the desk. "maybe grab something to eat with ollie."

weirdly enough, you haven't been able to get in contact with him all evening. you were told that he hurried back to his hotel room right after the race, not in the mood to talk to anyone on the team at all, so you chose to give him some time alone to cool down before you'll eventually go over there. still, you thought he would've answered at least one of your many texts by now.

thinking about your boyfriend, you suddenly remember something. "hey, mum?" she lets out an affirmative sound. "you remember when i was home last time, and dad said something about ollie and the car? and he acted all weird?" you pause for a moment, but when she doesn't say anything, you keep going. "what was that all about?"

"well darling, we..." you take the sudden silence as a sign that she might not be sure how honest she wants to be right now, and it makes you frown instinctively. she sighs. "we're just a little worried about him, that's all."

your confusion only grows. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"we're worried he's feeling too pressured to impress us." you hear her take a deep breath. "of course, your father is his boss, so it is natural in that way. but we wish he would just see us as any regular parents. he's always talking about racing like there's nothing else in the world, and..."

"that's not fair." you shake your head despite the fact that she can't see it. "that isn't him. he isn't all racing and no fun."

"oh love, i'm sure he is loads of fun, but-"

"i really have to go," you cut her off, standing from your seat. "talk to you later."

you hang up before she can even answer, the guilt in your head from treating your mother like that already pushed away by the anger growing inside of you.

you always assumed your parents loved ollie. sure, you knew they adored having paul over when you were still a couple, too, but ollie is every mother-in-law's dream son. he's from your country, he's a pure sweetheart, he's even in the fda for god's sake. how could they not love him?

and so what if he tries to impress them? who wouldn't do the same?

when ollie opens his door for you, he looks like he's just woken up from a bad night's sleep. bed head, bags under his eyes, and just a general aura of tiredness. if you didn't know better, you'd think he was an insomniac. but thinking back to how badly his race went, the sight of him just makes your stomach churn.

your arms wrap around his neck in an instant, pulling him into your warm embrace. you feel the tension in his upper back release right away, and ollie's hands find your sides, giving you a light squeeze. you refrain the urge to pull away when he nuzzles his nose into your neck, standing strong against your usual ticklishness, and your heart softens slightly when he lets out a deep sigh into your skin.

"you okay?" you finally manage to get out, and his answer comes in the form of a nod against your shoulder. "is there anything i can do for you?"

he pulls away but stays so close that you feel his breath against your face; so close that you're both slightly cross-eyed when your gazes meet. "stay with me?"

your answer is expressed through the fleeting kiss you press to his lips, your way of saying of course. ollie doesn't waste any time pulling you into his hotel room, and you flop down onto the bed with him. he sits up and watches you lie down against the covers, your head nestling into the pillow. "tell me about your race," he says as he reaches down to take your hand, his fingers slipping in between yours. "eight positions gained, huh?"

of course he doesn't want to talk about his own race. but the fact that he's willing to think about racing at all, just to let you have a chance to talk about how well you did and boast a little; it all makes your heart flutter.

and you're sure, you're so sure that he is so much more than just a racing driver. he's not what your parents think he is. he's an incredible racer, sure, but he's also the sweetest man you've ever met. the perfect boyfriend.

even when he's feeling like this, he takes his time to still pay attention to you and ask questions. and then he listens, he really listens, because he wants to understand every inch of your mind just as well as he geeks out about every detail of apexes and tyre degradation. and then he says just the right things, the things to sweep you off your feet yet again.

he's so perfect that he's incredibly easy to love.

so why is there a knot in your stomach at the thought of the race – and more specifically, the person on the last step of the podium?

why does your mind keep running back to how he's celebrating, and what it would be like if you'd been there with him?

yourusername just posted!

yourusername double pookie podiums & good points in the bag! thanks camposracing for a great car ❤️ we go again in a week!

show all 81 comments

user top job this weekend!!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user i will stop hating on red bull if either of these get into f1

→ user red bull juniors >>> anyone else

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user what happened to ollie though 😭

→ user it's just the first round, calm your horses

→ user why always bring up ollie on her posts... is that all she is, ollie's gf? 😐

→ user forreeaaalll

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

redbulljuniorteam y/n and pepe making us proud 🥺

→ user pls admin you're making me cry

→ yourusername me too 😭

[archie-sunshine]

waiter! waiter! more pandora x jak weird smut please!!!!!

i was thinkin about how magnets fuck with machinery so-

Magnets, Man...

(flagrant smut of my own ocs, 18+, JAK and Pandora)

TAGS: intelligence loss/fuckin around with jak's brain, squirting, fingering, casual sex, magnet play

Pandora has some magnets, JAK's helm looks like the perfect place to put them.

JAK could tell when Pandora was planning something for him. For one, she would compliment him more. Mention her great workmanship, thank him for all his help. Somehow, her stilted attempts at complimenting him were more endearing than they were manipulative. Second, she would be staring at him. Constantly. Or as constantly as her schedule would allow. Sometimes, when she thought he didn’t notice, she would seem to be sizing something up in her mind, usually regarding his lower half. 

Those tells were enough to know it was something sexual. To know it was something so lascivious only pandora could have thought it up, one would only need to look to the third tell.

Pandora’s wall safe was open. Which meant Pandora was updating his backup drives. 

“Sooooo… JAK?” Pandora purred, trotting into the room and situating herself between him and the TV. 

“What is it?” JAK sighed, reaching for the remote and pausing the TV. 

Pandora fidgeted with something behind her back, rocking on her heels a bit. She opened her mouth, making eye contact with him before closing it again and glancing away with a broad, nervous grin. “… Y’know, that paintjob really just works for you-“

JAK rolled his optics. “What is it.” he said flatly. 

“I wanna try something. It’ll be fun! I promise. It’ll… also be sexy.” she explained quickly, turning to face him with a now more flushed look on her face. 

JAK weighed his options for a moment. Or he tried to look like he was. It felt like the longer he was in this body the less dignity he had. He could have told her no, said she was being weird. Hell he could have said a lot of things. He didn’t say them. Instead he said, “Fine, but if my frame gets trashed again I’ll be pissed.” 

*

By all accounts, it wasn’t very impressive. In her hand was a stack of round magnets, held a safe distance from his face where he was kneeling before her. She’d taken his place on the couch, still completely clothed, as usual. 

“See the interesting thing about complex machines like you- hm- well ONE of the interesting things is that you don’t love magnets very much.” She hummed, closing her fist around the stack of magnets and struggling to pull one off. They seemed pretty powerful. “Messes with your internals… and I wanna know what it’ll do to your processor.” 

“… you’re going to purposely possibly break my brain?” JAK asked. 

“NOT BREAK!! Well- Hopefully not break, don’t worry about it.” She said quickly, rolling the magnet between her fingers and thumb.

“I’m gonna worry about it.” JAK droned, leaning back from her. 

Immediately her hand darted forwards, hooking in his collar plating and stopping him. His vents hitched as the failsafe codes in him kicked on, her grip feeling stronger than the steel he was built from. “I’m not gonna break you, your body cost too much for that.” She frowned.

JAK swallowed, fixing her with an unconvincing frown. “Wow, my body and not me? Jeez you sure know how to make a dude feel special.”

“UGH you know what I-!! YOU’RE BEING PURPOSELY OBTUSE!” She snapped, wrinkling her nose at him and grimacing. 

JAK grinned back at her, until he felt all of the pistons in his left arm suddenly eject out, stiffening and going uselessly limp at his side. He panickedly looked for the source of the malfunction, finding a thick black magnet pressed snugly to his plating. Pandora smacked his hand down as he reached it over to pick it off. 

“The rest of you is metal too, you’ll just cause more problems trying to take it off. And anyway,” She hummed, casually flicking another magnet onto his right arm. His fans cycled up faster, heat and arousal pooling in his internals at the loss of control. “You have a more important job!” 

“A-and what’s that?” JAK mumbled out thinly. 

Pandora’s cool hands coaxed him to turn around and face the TV, leaving his head cradled between pandora’s knees. “I’m gonna watch my show, and you’re gonna make some noise if I hit anything interesting.” She chirped, and finally placed the first magnet on the right side of his head.

Immediately, JAK shuddered, his vision flickering and going pixelated. He could feel something in his head physically pulling back against the magnet, his teeth gritted and body quivering. It felt- A lot. It felt so very much, like danger, and proximity like his sensors were warning him of, and then further than that, like the feeling of all the blood rushing to his head. He felt dizzy.

“A-Ah-“ He sighed out, trying to jerk his neck away from the feeling and failing. Pandora’s hand tucked up under his jaw and held him fast in place, her free hand sliding the magnet in slow circles on his helm. He could feel cooling fans stutter against the tug of the magnet, feeling heat wash over his helm. He breathed out a weak laugh. “FFeels- weird-“ 

“Yea? What kinda weird?” She asked, doodling nonsensically with the magnet as she rubbed it over a new bit of his helm. This time his jaw dropped open and he moaned, the contact making him salivate as his body screamed for mercy. 

“A-Ah- AH!” JAK cried out, his vocalizer popping in his throat and going laden with static. “F-fuh- Fizzy-“ He huffed unhelpfully.

“Fizzy?” She asked with a stifled laugh. 

JAK nodded as much as he could with her hand on his jaw. Pandora laid her legs over his shoulders, squeezing either side of his face with her thighs as she giggled. She sounded so happy, and without meaning to, JAK’s fans clicked up another notch with an audible whine. 

“Weeeird…” She whispered. “Let’s give you another.” 

JAK’s mouth gaped open again as a second magnet made contact with the other side of his head. “NnNNGuuh-!” He grunted, drool bubbling from his lips. His voice sounded drawn out and sharp with static. His whole body felt hot with arousal. Without meaning to, his modesty plating snapped open, his pussy puffy and slick from the foreign feeling. 

“O-Oh-!” Pandora squeaked. “Oh my god, Really? it feels that good?” she hissed out in an excited whisper, leaning down over his head to look at his junk. JAK’s fans squealed. Unable to use his arms, JAK rolled his hips weakly. It felt impossible to think, every coherent string of code pulled up and away by the magnets tormenting him. 

“Uuuhnfffhhnn-“ JAK moaned when pandora slowly drew the magnets around his metal skull again. 

“Oh… Oh wow…” Pandora sighed out breathlessly, stroking at JAK’s neck cabling. “I…. Can you turn around for me?” 

JAK struggled to wrangle the prompt into making sense. He sluggishly followed her orders, succeeding only in tipping himself over onto his back facing her. Pandora just laughed, reaching down and arranging his hips between her legs with his cunt pointing up towards the ceiling. He got a great view of the underside of the coffee table from here. “Comfortable?” She teased. JAK’s vocalizer crackled. “Good.” 

She rubbed her open palm over his waiting pussy, earning a series of useless clicks and fizzes from his vocalizer. Pandora smiled to herself. JAK must have looked so stupid then, jaw hung open, legs splayed over Pandora’s lap as she teased him. JAK couldn’t find anything in him that cared about how he looked. The only thing his processor cared to register was her touch. He drooled haplessly. Her cool digits burrowed into his hole and curled upwards to massage his lubrication tube. Lubricant welled at its opening for a moment as she kneaded it lightly. JAK moaned. Nothing existed but her, nothing but her careful digits and the pleasure they wrung out from him. 

Her fingers went stiff, then decisively jabbed forwards against the tube. JAK gurgled his own spittle as a jet of lubricant arced up from his cunt and splattered against his belly. Her free hand came up, pinching at his clit and tugging on the pleats of his hood. JAK moaned out, unable to warn her as he came, another stream of lubricant splattering across his stomach. 

“God you’re sensitive, it’s so fun!” She laughed, rolling her digits inside of him. JAK nodded dumbly, his face split into a blissed out smile. She was beautiful and terrifying, his body not his own but an extension of her will. He wanted to scream in terror and run, and he wanted to crawl meekly at her feet and curl into her like some lost dog. She was everything. 

“Y-y’r sso good t’ me….” JAK choked out in a moment of clarity. 

She laughed, snorting and squealing and kicking her feet. “God you’re fucking- HAH! Youuu.. you’re so stupid.” She snickered, worming her pinkie finger inside him along her middle and ring finger. JAK rolled his head back and whined. She began to pump her fingers in, his lubricant gushing and squirting around her digits. He moaned. It was so hard to think, his whole body on fire with the strain of just barely thinking while Pandora merrily reamed him out with her hand. The fingers on his clit shifted, pinching it between her middle and ring fingers and tugging gently as she rhythmically rolled it between her knuckles. 

JAK’s body twitched weakly. It was total bliss, no thoughts, nothing but pleasure and stimulation, nothing but pandora. His optics shot wide open as she pressed the fourth digit on her hand inside of him. He wailed out incomprehensibly in strain and enjoyment. If he could do anything but force whines and crackles out of his useless vocalizer, he would have been screaming ‘YES’ over and over. But he couldn’t, so instead his vocalizer just squealed as he gushed a second time. Pandora simply tilted his hips forwards lightly, snickering to herself as his lubricant rained all over his own face and chest. 

Unsurprisingly, JAK couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

*

“You keep saying you’re gonna fix the lubricant levels, but you never fix them.” JAK huffed as he scrubbed at his plating with solvent. He was sitting on the toilet of the bathroom, grimacing to himself as he dug bits of drying orange flavoured lube from the crevices of his frame. 

“I promise I’ll do it soon!!” Pandora called over the hiss of the shower. She poked her head out from around the curtain, her hair falling in slick curtains down her arms and shoulders. “Its just like… y’know… sooooo finicky-“

“You like it that i squirt, don’t you.” JAK sighed, cutting her off.

Pandora clammed up, glancing around shyly. “…. Maybe.”

“… You can keep it like this if you handle the cleanup.” JAK muttered, averting his gaze as his cheeks warmed.

“REALLY!!?” Pandora shrieked. JAK’s face flushed further. 

When he didn’t say anything to deny it, Pandora cheered to herself, sliding back behind the shower curtain.

JAK sighed again, glaring up at the ceiling of the bathroom. One of these days he was going to finally have the dignity to say no to her. 

“We should see how far you can squirt, or like, if you can knock something over with the pressure!” Pandora cackled.

… God and he hoped that day never came.

[fleet-off]

Mishaps in bdsm?!

Thank you for the ask, Jak my darling!

So Vegas and Pete are highly compatible kink-wise. They’re very good at the knot-tying and power-exchanging and dealing-of-exquisite-suffering. And they’re obsessed with seeing and knowing and recognizing each other—they put a solid effort into figuring out each other’s convoluted non-verbal signals and learning how to respond.

Unfortunately, they are also absolutely shit at risk mitigation and damage control [kink negotiation and aftercare]. When they get the sex right, it’s incredible. When they get it wrong, it’s catastrophic.

Mishaps in BDSM is a series of hard-won learning moments as Vegas and Pete try to string together a semi-functional relationship. It features lessons such as “you’ll get to stay tied up longer if you bring up the knot cutting off your circulation at the beginning,” “don’t pretend to have a safeword for your boyfriend’s sake when you purposely forgot it,” and “if you threaten to declaw your boyfriend for touching you too gently after fail!sex, he might accidentally punch you in the nose.”

Have an excerpt!

“I can take it,” Pete said distantly. “Whatever you want to give me.” His hands remained stubbornly stiff and pale. Vegas rubbed roughly at his palms. “You can take a lot, that’s not the fucking point. Do you want to lose a finger?” Pete tilted his head. “Left hand or right?” “Does it matter?” “Well, but I can never really feel the fourth one on my right, anyway. Old boxing injury. Could probably adapt, if you want that one.” The desperate pang at the back of Vegas’s throat threatened to rise as a sob. He laughed hoarsely and shoved his face into Pete’s shoulder. “Fuck, Pete.”

Ask me about my WIPs!

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

Back to Meddling Mar, picking up where we left off

Part 1, Parts 2-3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Narrowing his eyes, Damas glanced from Jak to Mar and back again. "You never met your own parents. But you would have been old enough to remember when Seek was born?"

Mar shrugged angrily. "Loghead said he wasn't s'posed to remember I existed."

It was all Damas could do to refrain from pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off an impending headache.

These kids were going to make a lot of paperwork for the monks, he could already tell.

"...no parents or guardians," he sighed, making a mental note to look into getting some regular supervision in place once these kids were released from convalescence. "Alright. Do you have any particular skills or interests that you feel should be taken into account in your placement?"

Daxter raised a paw. "Does "surviving murder attempts on an almost daily basis" count?"

Precursors give me patience...

"Nobody should live in Haven," Damas grumbled under his breath.

"It's a pretty crappy place," Jak agreed easily. "But Dax is right. You people are all about survival, right? We've been scraping by on nothing since we were kids."

The king fixed him with a sharp look. Stern, but not skeptical. He seemed to have no trouble believing what Jak had said, it was just that he didn't like what he was hearing.

"Since you were..." Damas leaned back and drew a hand over his face. Peering over his fingers, he examined the boy.

"What is it you generally do when you aren't fighting to survive?"

Jak stared at him. "I don't...um, I don't know, I've never had a chance to find out."

Then, as an afterthought, he added, "I guess I'd explore. Find weird Precursor crap. I'm pretty good at that. I race, if the competition is any good."

"I own a bar," Daxter volunteered, "Drink mixing, finances, non-life-threatening skills."

Well at least one of them had some actual life skills. Of course, their scars and hostile attitudes did suggest they knew how to fight to survive. He didn't expect the child to offer the same kind of answer, but he looked to him anyway.

"I cause problems," Mar announced unrepentantly.

The king cracked a smile, welcoming the mischievous boy's attempt at a joke. "Hm. I see that."

Returning his gaze to the older boy, Damas asked, "Do you have any combat experience?"

"Combat makes up the bulk of my experience," Jak shot back. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to look intimidating.

Damas didn’t look intimidated. He looked troubled.

"I suppose in a city like Haven you would've had to learn to defend yourself young."

Daxter scoffed. "If we'd grown up in Haven, we wouldn't have had the guts to fight. Gotta know freedom first to recognize a cage."

"Hm. Well said," Damas commented, but his frown remained. "How did you come to be in that city? Most people don't move to Haven by choice."

"Neither did we," Jak growled. "Got tricked into a-"

He paused to think of a convincing half-truth. "Sabotaged transport ring. It dropped us miles apart, and Praxis's attack dog was waiting."

Errol's face flooded his memory and he shuddered.

"Waiting?" Damas pressed, but the boy seemed to shut down.

"Not in front of the kid," he said. It was probably supposed to be firm, an imperative.

Damas heard a plea underneath.

He thought of the scars along the boy’s arms and nodded slowly. The instinct to wince was tamped down harshly; pity was not what this young survivor required.

"You may speak to me about it later if it becomes relevant," he allowed. "At the moment, the House of Praxis and their ilk are less important than determining where, precisely, you will fit best in my city."

"I can pull my own weight," Jak grunted.

The rock began to dig into his legs, and he shifted in a futile attempt at getting comfortable. "The kid’s, too."

There, he'd said it again. It wasn’t Damas’s imagination, the castaway was actively avoiding using the little brother's given name. An odd quirk under more standard circumstances, to be sure. But for reasons he was afraid to put his finger on, something about that bizarre behavior set his instincts screaming in the back of his mind.

"Why," he asked bluntly, "do you refuse to tell anyone Seek's proper name?"

He watched a retort form and then disintegrate on Jak’s tongue.

Had he not expected to be called out on it?

Jak and "Seek" shot worried looks back and forth for a moment before Jak relented.

"His name has...history. People...expect things of us when they hear it. They demand things, actually. We're not people to them. Just tools."

This time, Damas knew that it wasn't the brothers' resemblance to Mar that kindled a growing empathy in his chest. He was the only surviving son of King Arez and Queen Maegera for his entire youth. The pressures placed on him by the history attached to his blood had been enormous, threatening to crush him with every passing day. Every look of disappointment on his mother's face when he failed another channeling test his older brothers had excelled at, every reprimand by his father's counselors while Arez sat silently and did not defend him -- they'd all added to the weight on his soul. Becoming nobody in the desert-

Earning his rank with his own blood and sweat had been liberating.

He tapped his fingers restlessly against his forearm and nodded again.

"You want him to experience life free from the burden of other's expectations," he guessed.

Jak’s eyes slid away. "Well one of us should," he scoffed.

Somehow, Damas didn’t think he'd meant to say that out loud.

If only I could say I'd never felt the burdens you carry, young castaway. But if nothing else, perhaps I can show you how to let them go...

"Why not both of you?" He gestured between them. "You have some years yet before you'd be expected to earn your gate pass and work more than just chores."

"Because someone has to keep us fed?" Jak answered slowly, like he was afraid it was a trick question. "What else would we even do here?"

"Well, what kind of education have you had?" Damas asked, seeming to change the subject.

He had a feeling he could guess by the bewildered faces staring back at him.

Jak looked uncertain and embarrassed, and Seek just looked uncertain. If they'd been surviving on the streets in Haven -- which so far sounded like the case -- Damas didn't suppose they'd had much opportunity to pursue more than the most basic education. And with no parents to speak of, any money that could've gone to tuition would have, by necessity, been funneled to mere survival.

"I...think Dax might be the only one with more than basic reading, writing, and cartography," Mar admitted. "Because he knows math with ration cards and ratios and stuff."

"Cartography?" Damas raised his brows. "Not many still study map-making, I'm impressed!"

Mar lit up at the praise, only to realize a second later that this was still "the Snitch", and he still bore a grudge. Quickly, and not very convincingly, he schooled his face back into a skeptical scowl. Jak was even less convincing as he tried to look like the compliment had meant nothing to him. As if he wasn't sitting that little bit straighter, holding his head that little bit higher.

Damas felt something inside him loosen just a little at the sight. So, they weren't so hard to crack after all. The castaways wore tough outer shells to be sure, but here and there he could glimpse the children underneath. They responded to praise like most other young ones, it seemed. Well, if they were truly determined to pull their own weight in this city despite their age, doubtless they'd find their share of approval out there.

Damas nodded and rubbed his chin. "That will serve you well out here. New citizens are required to learn a basic history of Spargus -- lest we repeat the mistakes of the past -- but whether all three of you require any other remedial schooling will be determined by the head of education."

Daxter jolted so hard that he fell off his rock and into the water. He came up spluttering.

"What?! You can't make us go to school!"

He got a wry look in return.

"I most certainly can. Citizens of your age may choose whether they pursue a more academic education, or a more experience-based education, but make no mistake-"

Damas leaned forward and pointed.

"-you will have to learn some things if you wish to thrive here."

Jak stared him down.

"I'm not leaving my brother by himself," he challenged.

For a moment, they kept eye contact, one trying to gage the other's meaning and the other refusing to be the first to look away. Then with a tired grumble, Damas stood up. "Follow me," he said shortly.

He picked his way across stepping stones to the dais carved from stone. From there, he followed a narrow walkway between planters and water to a doorway half obscured by a linen curtain. Then he paused, and turned to regard the boys.

"Sometime tonight, younglings," he called dryly.

They hesitated, but dragged themselves from the pool to follow.

"The school day," said Damas briskly as he led them up a short flight of steps, "Begins at dawn and ends at noon. Six hours are generally allotted for education, to allow the city's handful of children the same schedule as adults. Regardless of whether you chose the temple school or an apprenticeship, you still wouldn't be leaving Seek "by himself" for an entire day."

Daxter scrambled up the steps behind him. "Well whaddya do after lunch?"

Wryly, Damas gestured around. "Perhaps you hadn't noticed, but it gets very hot in the summer months here. We try to accomplish most of our work in the morning and evening. Midday is for resting and doing indoor work. Even my predecessor -- may even the ground reject his bones -- knew that it was best to give families time together during midday."

Unexpectedly, Jak snorted. ""May even the ground reject his bones"? Wow. Someone's got dad issues."

"Probably," Damas agreed, giving the boy an annoyed squint, "But my predecessor wasn't my father. Gods, what a nightmare that would've been."

The thought stayed in his mind a second too long and he shuddered.

"If I'd had to call that stunted slime my parent, I think I'd have just disowned myself."

Behind him, Seek giggled. And though the older two boys were clearly trying to look like cool, aloof, teenagers, Damas could tell it had amused them, too.

See, Pho, someone appreciates my wit around here-

He cleared his throat.

"No, titles in Spargus are not inherited. We earn them. I am king because I had the practical experience necessary to keep a city running. And also because I killed the old king in single combat."

Jak blinked. "....yeah, that would do it."

He hurried up the next couple steps to put him level with Damas.

"So uh, where exactly are you taking us?"

"Map room."

It turned out to be more of a utility room than a map room, full of gages and pumps for what looked like a truly massive water filtration system. A flickering, scratched screen took up the back wall, showing a readout of the city, and it was here that Damas led them. Spargus was smaller than Haven by a good fifty percent, but it was still far larger than the boys had anticipated. Just the northwest district alone could have comfortably fit all of Sandover at once!

"I'll have to ask around and find out what rooms are open at the moment," Damas said, eyes fixed on the map.

The lines around his mouth deepened.

"There are always some. Even the most experienced warriors are not immortal."

Mar grimaced and silently commented to Jak, "Morbid guy."

"He's not wrong, though," Jak agreed.

When Mar tired of squinting at the screen, trying to decipher the tiny writing, he boldly poked Damas in the back. Jak stiffened, but Damas didn’t seem unduly bothered by the impertinence.

"Yes, little one, what is is?" he asked, turning slightly.

"Are there other kids here, or are they all teenagers like Jak?" Mar demanded.

If he was going to be the only eight year old in a class, then he refused to go.

Damas turned back to the screen and rapped sharply on the side until some of the fuzzy quality cleared a bit.

"Spargus, at the moment, is home to twenty people between the ages of fifteen and nineteen," he said, "and twelve between the ages of two and thirteen."

Only Jak caught a flicker of what almost looked like pain in Damas’s eyes as he added quietly, "Far too few..."

He blinked and seemed to shake himself, then made a sound of triumph as he tapped a spot on the northwest edge of the map.

"Alma's place, of course!" He glanced back at the boys, realizing they wouldn't have the slightest idea who Alma was.

"One of our non-warrior citizens. She keeps rooms for newcomers. Rent is a touch eccentric, but at least it shouldn't put much burden on you."

Daxter hopped up to grab the edge of the console. After several seconds of struggling, he managed to claw his way up to a sitting position and folded his arms.

"Rent?!" he demanded, "All we got is a fiver ration card! Exiles don't get severance pay!"

For a second, Damas pressed his lips sharply together. If he found the ottsel's way of phrasing things funny, he was never going to admit it. Ever.

He cleared his throat and set about downloading the map into an odd-looking talk-box plugged into the side of the monitor.

"We don't use ration cards here. We barter. Time, food, water, shells, artifacts -- mostly artifacts. Most rooms come with a set of scales -- you'll need them."

Daxter looked a little put out, having become rather adept at making financial decisions based on Haven's currency. Jak and Mar, however, were relieved. It sounded far more like Sandover's way of life, except it applied to everyone and not just them.

Damas unplugged the talk-box and handed it to Jak. "Batteries are hard to come by out here. Try not to use this if you don't have to."

"Um...thanks." Jak switched on the boxy device's bulbous screen and cycled to the map. "We don't have anything to trade for this."

The king studied him for an uncomfortable moment, then his lips twisted at the corner into a smirk.

"You let me fix that haircut you gave yourself, and I'll call it even."

Jak did not appreciate Daxter's howl of laughter. Or Mar agreeing on his behalf.

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

can we....can we hear a little bit more about Sig? 👀

CAN you! absolutely!

first of all, it has to be said, i was not thinking about the fact that loki's mythological wife's name is sigyn when i named this guy sig, i just did what i did for all of my asgardian OCs and looked through a list of norse names until i spotted one that felt like it fit. also my childhood crush on sig from the jak and daxter games may have had something to do with it shh

ANYWAY. sig is my obligatory "regular asgardian citizen" viewpoint that we don't really get if we're always focusing on thor, loki, val, or heimdall. any of the asgardians are many times stronger than the average human, but he doesn't have magic like thor and loki do, and he doesn't have centuries of training like val does. he DOES have centuries of smithing behind him, so like, he's not a twig, but until ragnarok he'd never really seen any serious battles, and he'd certainly never killed anyone - that marauder he killed with loki's sword was the first. he's gonna get through that with minimal angst though, because asgardians have different perspectives when it comes to killing in battle, and also because he's got his daughter to worry about, so there's bigger fish to fry. like, this man will try to 1-v-1 against the collector if given the opportunity and if his daughter's in danger. asgardians are brave idiots and he is no exception, and also, after ragnarok, runa is literally all he has left

so like, sig is a dad above all else. he's a nurturing kind of person, he's really good at talking to people and kind of coaxing them out of their shells (hence his first interaction with bruce) and he's sort of taken it upon himself to look after runa's friends, since their parents didn't make it through ragnarok. he's not the only person caring for runa's friends, since asgard has sort of by necessity become more of a communal situation where there's a lot of childless parents and parentless children, but he's always keeping an eye out for them (when he's not light-years away being dragged on an adventure to save his daughter from an infinity stone and a bunch of bounty hunters and a superpowerful megalomaniac, anyway)

as far as his relationship with the revengers: he sort of implicitly trusts thor, because that's asgard's golden boy and everyone is sort of in agreement that they'd all be dead if thor hadn't shown up in a blaze of lightning and fought hela off while they escaped. he VERY implicitly trusts heimdall, and honestly no one on that ship doesn't after he kept them all safe during hela's attacks. he's a little starstruck about val but manages to be cool about it, and he loves that there's an honest-to-god valkyrie on the ship with them, because it certainly makes their precarious situation feel a bit safer. bruce, he's immediately bonded with and now considers a friend. and loki... okay so it helps if you know that my headcanon is that all the asgardians knew or at least suspected that it was loki posing as odin that entire time, they just didn't care because there were no wars going on and he wasn't actually doing a bad job as odin, so they just sort of... let him get away with it?

so, you're sig. your planet's been destroyed, you're grieving your wife and your home and the rest of your family, you're trying to keep your daughter safe, but now she's been possessed(?) by an infinity stone and the only person who can probably help her is the guy you'd only heard stories about before, who was impersonating the king for a few years and also might have committed some treason at some point, you don't really know the details. but now he's teleporting you and your daughter across the cosmos, and he's definitely saved you and your daughter more than a few times even if he's being kind of standoffish about it, and also he might be suffering from a little infinity stone possession of his own, but shit, you don't know how any of this works, he's the magic guy, but also it's a little concerning that the guy who's supposed to be helping you with your daughter's infinity stone problem also kind of looks like he's got a foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel, and his eyes and his veins keep glowing blue which, i mean, that can't be a good sign, can it?

fast forward way past the events of the revengers to avoid spoilers, but i like to imagine that eventually, the little mini-oneshot i posted on tumblr happens (you'll find it under my "revengers: the show" tag if you haven't already seen it) where runa seeks out loki years later and demands to learn magic because the whole infinity stone situation sparked an interest in it, and she wants to know how to do all that stuff he does, and THAT would be the "meticulously crafted 100K of slow burning build up" that i was referring to earlier, where loki's teaching her magic and sig's, like, VERY reluctantly allowing this to happen. because like, yeah, he and loki are cool now, but he's seen how out-of-control magic can get, he's seen how reckless loki in particular can be, and this is his daughter. loki is on thin ice forever as long as runa's involved.

but yeah, that's sig. and you may have seen me mention this before, but i've fancasted him as dev patel from the beginning. it just feels right, and that's who i'm picturing when i'm writing his scenes :)

[jak2gooberglub]

JAK X, JAK 3, JAK 2 AND JAK AND DAXTER TPL

HEAD CANNONS AGAIN BC THESE ARE FUN TO THINK OF

⚠️Spoilers obviously⚠️

Looking at jak's new racing outfit in jakX I noticed he doesn't have the same metal ring at his chest like he did in the 3 previous games (ill add photos for proof). That could mean it's his new "racing outfit" but I believe that this is a sign that he's come to terms with being just Jak.

Not Mar, not some fabled hero from the future or the past that liberated haven city, built haven city, the user of eco, the saviour of the world.

No, he is just Jak.

He could have also copied damas's armor by having there be a strap across his chest in his racing outfit, similar to the armor plating that was across damas's chest.

Or it's just a chest strap.

Here's the concept art/ art made officially by naughty dog for jak's outfits as well as damas.

And Jak can no longer harness eco anymore due to the dark eco expirements.

Just because he got the "light balanced within him" from light eco, doesn't mean he's back to his old self, or cured in any way. He still has outbursts of anger and turns into dark Jak, and that was proven in jak 3 after damas died.

If he was normal again, he wouldn't still be using health packs from krimzon guard crates. He'd be able to get green eco from the creatures he fights. If he was able to harness eco he wouldn't still be able to channel dark eco either.

Because if you remember, gul and myia, they couldn't use other types of eco, they had to use a robot to channel eco types.

With dark eco in this series, it's all or nothing it seems.

You might say "but didn't jak use green eco to heal plants in jak 3 in the haven forest?"

And to that I say, he used the zoomer to channel the eco as well as the eco vents.

Let me be clear, in jakX, jak isn't canceling eco to use as weapons himself when racing. It's the car that uses eco for weapons, speed boosts, health ect.

The car is a machine outfitted to use eco and dispurse it through weapons, similar to the guns in jak 2 and 3, those weapons had colors corresponding to the eco that it uses.

The eco was stored in ammunition.

He cannot channel eco anymore. And he must have realized it recently too. He was too busy fighting metal heads and saving haven city more than once to realize his own gifts are gone. And he's stuck with only light and dark eco, one that makes him an angry, sick monster that destroies things, and the other light eco, protects, and heals him from enemies.

In addition to my previous hc that jak cut his hair, he also got rid of the eco harnessing part of his outfit. After damas's death he probably had a mental breakdown, cut/shaved his hair, and changed his look. Around the same time he was getting to legal drinking age in haven city, so I wouldn't be surprised if he's bar hopped a few places, given how much drinking he and daxter are doing in JakX, it's pretty much cannon.

And, since daxter and tess are a couple, daxter wouldn't pay much attention to jak. Not that he does anyway.

In jak x, daxter most likely misses tess so much to where he's drunk, which we see in a lot of cutscenes in jak x, so between racing, nearly dying, fearing for their lives, and heavy drinking, daxter probably wasn't up to talk about his feelings. Regardless, daxter would probably yell and complain like he always does.

He does care for jak, but at the same time, jak is in a better relationship with Kira and has been around her more, so daxter would assume jak is doing fine. When really, he is not.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk/hj

[honeybeecomebuzzingme]

I want to see if this works to help me sleep, I'm not sure if it will, but here we go.

Instead of staying up all night cleaning I decided I'd experiment with baking.

I decided to use up some tinned fruit and make cupcakes. However, I misjudged the cooking temperature and times. I didn't give them a chance to rise in the oven... They were burnt in the top but gooey in the middle and stuck to the cases.

I believe I made a good attempt though because I haven't baked or cooked for so long and that I'm able to know what I did wrong with the recipe I made up is good.

When I bake I feel closer to my Mum and I don't understand why my dad doesn't remember doing things like this when I was younger. I remember we baked and decorated cakes for my birthdays over the years but for some reason he doesn't remember doing that. It makes me feel like my entire childhood and all of my good memories are retcons and falsehoods.

My life is like the crash bandicoot series.

Looking back at the beautiful PlayStation one games, created by naughty dog, it gave me everything I could ever ask in my life and I was able to see so many things.

My dad could never comprehend the beauty in a fluffy orange fictional devil...

Cos damn, I don't forget that crash was my first love for obvious reasons - look at how ginger half my partners have been!

Where was I with this metaphor actually?

Oh yes, sometimes with my dad the good parts of my childhood and relationships with my family are likewise forgotten about like the crash bandicoot games that were made for the PlayStation 2 by those other developers... Ehrrrhmmm? 🤔

Spyro had the same treatment in my opinion but that's up for debate cos I am too tired to go reading about Spyro this time of now morning. A lot of people I know associated the PlayStation with Crash Bandicoot and the PlayStation 2 could be more Ratchet and Clank, Jak and Daxter, and Sly Cooper. But let's say I see the PS2 as dominated by a gorgeous silver haired dude in the red trench coat. (I have tattoos for this, I love video games).

I want to talk more about video games because I realized that that is the main thing that I wanted to do with my life.

Crash doesn't really need to be talked about when I should be asleep...

The point I was trying to make at some point I think was the whole I feel like my dad doesn't remember or doesn't acknowledge the parts of my childhood that were good with my mum and how she inspired me to become a gamer nerd 🤓 inspired me a lot really with art and music and writing. All of the things that I went on to study were because of my mum and all of the friends that I have that are lifelong friends, like my Nakama, and I love them all so much they are like family.

Crash Bandicoot reminds me that you go on adventures and when you're fighting against a boss it means you're going in the right direction... Also remember to save the game and go back to the first island to get wumpa fruit and grind until you have enough lives to face the big baddy daddy.

Life is in the game? 💪😁

Anyway, Nakama is Ohana, brother is like a family man. I love all my friends! 😍💗🥰

[apple-pecan]

Jak and Daxter: The Precursor Legacy (2001)

jak, the vaugely anime-esque boy with no personality, and his way more personable best friend and sidekick daxter, sneak onto misty island for the epic lulz. one thing leads to another and daxter is accidentally knocked into some dark ooze and TFed into an ottsel, an otter weasel hybrid. finding him to be way too marketable now, jak and daxter embark on a quest to change him back to normal. that's all the story yer gettin, so time to make like mario and collect as many power stars cells as humanly possible.

while on paper this would be a bog standard 3d platformer collectathon game, there's a few things that set it apart. the big thing is you're not jumping into paintings or portals to go to different stages or something; rather, the entire world is interconnected, making this one of the first open world games so to speak. and the cool thing is there's hardly any load times! there is a drawback to this though; you have to leave each area the way you came in, and if you're not used to the level layout for each area it can take a while to find your way back. i know the last time i played this game years ago i got stuck on snowy mountain and got too infuriated to keep playing. not this time~!

missions range from "find the power cell somewhere in the stage" to "help out an NPC and they'll give you a power cell" or even "pay an npc with precursor orbs and they'll give you a power cell" and maybe sometimes you'll be like "find 7 red coins scoutflies and get a power cell" and there's the odd mission where it's all like "lick daxter's feet and he'll give you nothing in return also you have to get mouthwash now." okay i made that one up. or did i... ANYWAY, you'll be doing a lot of different things to get these power cells and it's all pretty fun and engaging. gotta catch em all!

the controls are pretty solid for the most part, although sometimes i ran into issues where jak just wouldnt double jump for some reason or wouldnt grab onto ledges. other than that though the movement was fun and i liked spinning around breaking crates. wait am i talking about crash bandicoot or... well, they ARE by the same developer. one other thing i had an issue was the health collectables. you only have three hit points, with no stat upgrades whatsoever to increase it. this wouldn't be that much of an issue if it didn't take 50 whole green eco orbs to replenish ONE hit point. for the record, most enemies just drop 3 or 4, and a lot of stages arent exactly brimming with enemies sometimes. so just dont get hit as much as possible. i feel like if they halved the amount of eco orbs to replenish your health this wouldve been mitigated somewhat.

there are also vehicle sections, where you ride a zoomer (no, not that kind of zoomer) to try and get from one "hub" area to the next. these make your controller vibrate like fucking crazy and whenever one finally ends i feel all weird and tingly. i dont know if this is a good or bad thing but hey it's worth mentioning.

the story is not really existent after the beginning of the game up until you near the end, which is fine for a game like this. i quite liked the ending where jak and daxter find some mystical energy that can defeat the bad guys but it could also change daxter back to normal, so he has to decide if he wants to either become unmarketable again or save the world from destruction. guess what happens. the music fits the game, its basically more subdued crash bandicoot music. not something i'd particularly listen to outside of the game but it does add to the lighthearted mood of the game. graphics are honestly still kind of amazing to this day; the characters look like living cartoons and the different environments are breathtaking. i love the shot when you first leave the green sage's hut and see sandover village sprawl before you; can't even imagine how amazing this must've looked back in 2001.

all in all, this is a solid, fun collectathon, a great first (and ultimately last) attempt at the genre by naughty dog. yeah, thats right, they never did anything like this again. a few months before this game came out, a little game known as grand theft auto iii came out and permanently changed gaming forever. it had all the open environments like this but with more gameplay variety besides jump here and collect stuff. more importantly you could steal peoples cars and shoot people in the face. so naughty dog took one look at this and said "this is just what our mascot platformer series NEEDS!" so in jak 2 you can ALSO steal peoples cars and shoot people in the face. and then they decided to cut the cartoony middle man entirely and make uncharted and the last of us, which use photorealistic graphics instead, and get rid of the open world shit and make it so it's JUST shooting people in the face. oh well, it was fun while it lasted!

8/10

NOTE: i like how for both crash and jak, the last games in both series naughty dog would make are racing games. im sure its been brought up before but it's still funny to me. now when are they gonna make the last of us kart racing game already..........

[transmascblueblur]

What if Jak was trans? (Part I)

[Content warnings: semi-graphic descriptions of afab puberty (menstruation and unsafe binding in particular) with mentions of amab puberty, medical abuse/trauma/torture, mentions of ftm top surgery and HRT, some slightly transphobic & misogynistic phrasing/language, a brief mention of forced detransition, and subtext suggesting that cis adults see a trans minor naked without his consent, though NOT in a sexual way (as well as all the standard stuff you’d expect from the game Jak II, mostly violence).]

Out under the burning sun of the Wastelands, King Damas of Spargus is blessed with a gift from the Precursors: a baby girl.

Or so he thinks.

The heir to the Spargan throne enjoys desert life, riding the leaper lizards, watching the sand fly up behind the buggies as they speed out of the city's gate, sneakily observing the monks as they chant and perform their mysterious rituals. It's a happy, blissful time.

It doesn't take long, though, for the kid to realise that he's not a girl like everyone says he is, and communicates his feelings to the people around him as soon as he knows how. Damas, the leading reject in a city of rejects, a man ruled by nothing more than fatherly love, who would wage war on the blazing sun itself for his child, doesn't turn his back on his now-son, but embraces him. (Perhaps there are even other trans people in Spargus that ended up there for that reason, if Haven is generally a transphobic place?) He changes his former-daughter's name from the feminine Mara to the masculine Mar (or perhaps it was always Mar, in a gender neutral fashion). He cuts his son's hair, lets him wear his little dungarees, and since Mar is so young at this time, nobody who isn't already aware has no reason to suspect that Damas' son was ever anything else.

But then Count Veger strikes.

He hears that the banished King Damas, descendant of the House of Mar (and likely skilled in eco channelling), has had a son. Children are a lot easier to kidnap than adults, even the children of kings, and Veger needs someone who can channel eco for his experiments. In the night, he kidnaps Mar, whisking him out of his desert home and into the heart of metallic, miserable Haven City.

Damas' grief could swallow stars. He'll never stop looking, even if he has to empty the Wastelands of sand one grain at a time. Even if it kills him.

As surprised as Veger is to eventually discover that Mar isn't exactly a typical little boy, this doesn't affect his experiments, so he's content referring to Mar the way everyone else does, as a boy. All he truly cares about is unlocking the Precursors' secrets, anyway.

By means that remain unknown, perhaps after only a few days, or perhaps after many months, or something in-between, Mar is freed. Maybe Veger, or even an assistant of some kind, lets his guard down for just a second, and the sly little kid sneaks away, stumbling out of the lab and finding himself alone in an unfamiliar place — bare-footed, traumatised, silent. A stray croca-dog, just as dirt-covered and lonely as the boy, forms an attachment to him. With saliva dripping from flesh-rending teeth, he protects Mar from those that would harm him long enough for him to be found by Samos and taken to the Underground, where he also meets Kor.

Samos realises what that amulet around the child's neck means. As long as the kid sticks around long enough to be put on Haven's throne when Praxis is done away with, it doesn't really matter if he has shoes or not, right? Besides, as The Shadow, Samos has bigger priorities than babysitting. To the rest of the Underground, a scruffy little kid with short hair, dungarees, and a big croca-dog looks enough like a boy, so they have no reason to question whether he's a real boy or not. Besides, a lot the Underground's members generally prefer knowing that the heir to Haven isn't a girl, even if they can't quite justify why when Tess asks them.

Kor, meanwhile, already knows just who this child will become. Whilst baby Mar is now with the Underground, his older self has already come through the warp-gate and fallen into Praxis' hands, so Kor has seen the kid's older self at least once, and has seen at least a hint of the man - the hero - that he will grow into. (If he doesn't kill him first.)

And then, of course, shenanigans ensue. Mar meets Jak (thinks he's really cool) and Daxter (thinks he's really cute), is told to attempt the Tests of Manhood (and the door opened for him at first — he always knew he was a boy!), and gets kidnapped by Kor to open the Precursor Stone.

In the end, Mar watches as his former carer's severed head skids along the ground towards Jak's feet. (Gross. But also kinda cool.)

Then Mar realises that Jak is actually himself in the future, and gets the validation and euphoria he never knew he needed. He takes on the name Jak for himself, and travels back in time to Sandover Village with Samos, remembering nothing of his old life but the fading light of the warp-gate. (Unfortunately, he forgets that warning about the wumpbee nest.)

(Due to time loop issues, this means that the name Jak just appears from nowhere, since the Jak living in Sandover Village was given it from his older self that he met as a child in Haven, who heard it from his older self back when he was a kid, and the loop continues. If we want a satisfactory answer to the true origin of Jak's name, time-loop aside, my personal preference is this:

The Kid isn't speaking at all when he first arrives in Sandover, and Samos was always content to refer to him as just "The Kid" anyway, so without a way to clearly communicate his desire for a name with Samos, that's how he stays for a while. Over time, The Kid gets to know Keira, Daxter, and the villagers, and they get to know him. United by the same adventurous spirit, The Kid and The Explorer grow closer, and The Explorer then becomes known as Uncle. Samos is content to have someone else caring for The Kid, now that he has a daughter to take care of, and is happy for him to have some semblance of a family, so when Uncle suggests, you know, maybe giving the poor lad a name, Samos agrees. Keira and Daxter also suggest names, of course, but Samos flat refuses to let them, Daxter especially, who is currently a scruffy urchin but who he knows will one day be an animal, name the future hero of Haven. Furthermore, Samos is perfectly aware of the grim fate that Sandover Village will suffer when the warp-gate is reopened, so he allows The Explorer to name Jak as a small way for Sandover's people to live on.)

Time passes like thick honey in Sandover Village. The sea caresses the shoreline of Sentinel Beach, wind whispers and howls through the trees of the Forbidden Jungle, and yakows chew hay lazily over at the farm. Life is good, peaceful.

Jak grows up a bit, grows closer with Daxter and Keira, gets stung by some wumpbees, does a lot of exploring, makes a lot of trouble.

Eventually he finds himself able to talk sometimes, rather than just using the sign language he and Daxter invented for themselves, and doesn't mind doing it now and then. Then Daxter's voice starts dropping. A sudden jealousy starts gnawing at Jak, so he decides to keep quiet most of the time, even in the moments he can speak. (Daxter prefers the limelight anyway.)

Growing up has other downsides, too. Jak finds himself using whatever the women of the village recommend — certain types of grass, cloth, wool — to stop the bleeding that feels constant, even if it only comes every few weeks. And sweet Precursors, it hurts. (Not to mention the other strange stuff — headaches, tiredness, his gums feeling weird, an unsettled stomach, and the urge to cry and throw things, to name a few.) Keira, going through the same thing, gives advice and support, and whilst that makes it easier to bear, other boys don't have to suffer this, and that's all Jak can think about.

And then Jak's body starts really changing, visibly — especially his chest. All the while, Daxter enjoys a flat chest, a (small) growth spurt, no stomach cramps or bleeding, and a voice that cracks pleasantly, even if he himself finds it embarrassing (as well as apparently some... interesting dreams, but Daxter refuses to talk much about them).

When it gets too much to bear, Jak starts flattening his chest with bandages and suffers through the pain, periodically repairing the damage to his ribs and lungs with green eco. He has no other options. He'll always have to live this way, he knows. It's a horrifying truth, but perhaps it’s worth it when your two best friends - and all the other villagers, for that matter - can see you for who you are. But even when he begs Samos to please do something about all these awful, awful changes, the sage refuses, because even he doesn't know what to do. (Although, having already met Jak's older self, Samos knows that one day Jak's voice will be deep, his chest will be flat, and wonders how in green tarnation that will happen. It takes him a while to realise that the answer is not a happy one.)

Life goes on, and Jak grows older. For the first time, he finds himself truly envying his homeless, ill-treated, buck-toothed best friend, which just makes him feel worse, since Jak is objectively the luckier of the two (he's never accused of stealing, and always has a place to sleep). If Daxter notices Jak's jealousy, he's nice enough not to say anything. But no amount of envy on either side is enough to hurt their relationship, and they just grow closer the older they get.

More shenanigans ensue after the boys visit Misty Island (an inevitability, Samos knows, even if he did try to warn them). It all ends in a darkening sky, horrifying creatures crawling and fluttering out of a warp-gate, and a monster's voice cracking the tropical air like thunder,

"You cannot hide from me, boy!"

(It also ends with Daxter remaining short, furry, and bright orange. Overnight, Jak's envy is replaced with guilt as solid as the mountains.)

And just like that, Jak is back in Haven, lost and confused with nobody but an animal companion by his side for the second time in his life (but the first that he recalls).

But it doesn't last long. Seconds, at most.

Commander Erol has already received his orders from Baron Praxis, who was himself given a tip-off from Onin, and is expecting to pick up a teenage boy at the pier, and drag him to the prison kicking and screaming if necessary (through preferably with less fuss than that). Erol and his team retrieve the boy as planned, and Praxis is thrilled to finally have the most promising candidate for the Dark Warrior Program in his clutches. Imagine their surprise, perhaps when making Jak change into his prison uniform, when they notice something strange — he's not quite as male as that old soothsayer had made him out to be.

At first, the Baron is baffled. Onin had said a boy, but whoever this kid is, they're definitely the one. Their eco powers speak for themselves. Perhaps he sends Erol to ask Onin for an explanation, and perhaps she says just what she said the first time. So Praxis thinks about it. He's heard of people doing this sort of thing before, changing their sex, though he can’t quite fathom it himself. Of course, he could simply force this kid to live as female, change his name, warp his entire identity into what Praxis himself wants him — her — to be.

But then the Baron thinks some more. Jak wants to be a boy, badly. The tight bandages on his chest are a clear testament to that, and if the wise old Onin says he's a boy, she's probably not wrong. All it would take is some injections (which Jak will be no stranger to, since the eco will need to go directly into his bloodstream) and maybe some surgeries here and there. If Jak doesn't need to bind anymore, doesn't have to worry about menstruating anymore, and can grow the strength and muscle of a real man thanks to the testosterone, he will be a better warrior, and that works in Praxis' favour. Furthermore, it might even make Jak feel indebted to him, could even inspire some loyalty. After all, what use is your perfect Dark Warrior if he hates your guts, resists all of your commands, and is probably constantly plotting to kill you?

So the Baron makes Jak into a man and, as they will soon see, into a monster.

(It takes Praxis longer than it should to realise that, despite the surgeries and testosterone that he wouldn't have otherwise been able to access, Jak will never feel even an ounce of loyalty to him.)

Erol, meanwhile, has no qualms with Jak's transition. If anything, it makes him feel slightly better, because now he knows for sure that it's not a girl he's hurting (and this, for some reason, makes a world of difference to him).

Time crawls by like some dying insect as Jak rots in his cell. He's forced to train until he drops, takes beating after beating from the guards, suffers Erol's relentless sadism, screams and thrashes in the injection chair. It feels like years. He still remembers Daxter’s last words to him,

“Don’t worry Jak, I’ll save ya before ya know it!”

He wonders how long ago that was. He wonders if he’ll ever see Daxter again. He didn't know it was possible to miss someone so much, and wishes he never had to know that feeling.

Finally, the time comes. Sure, he’s a man now, and much stronger than he was, but no amount of dark eco in his blood is making him into the superweapon that the Baron has been searching for, and Jak is his last hope. (He's already seen the other four die, one at a time, wondering when it will be him.)

Praxis orders Erol to kill Jak that night. The Commander, now apparently bored of using him as his personal punching-bag and lab rat, gleefully agrees.

So Jak is left alone, lying limp in his restraints, the agony of another dark eco injection still blistering through his veins, only vaguely aware that at last, his suffering will end.

At one time he’d hoped to escape, to tear Praxis limb from limb, to make him suffer, but apparently that time has passed.

Now there’s nothing he can do but wait for death.

But then a familiar voice, like the sun through stormclouds, rings out through the sterile silence of the prison.

[bartoonist]

BAR’s PS5 Screenshots 3-16-2024: Here are my 10 new Screenshots from Street Fighter 6 I actually forgot to post on some of my social media platforms almost a week ago now, due to working an Oddworld + Steven Universe Fan Art illustration of Lapis Lazuli and Abe, and working on my 10 yr milestone remake illustration of my Grandma getting peddled around in her red wheelchair by a Dolphin DreamKeeper Avatar I created for her back in 2014 as I remade it this year (as of 3-16-2024 of writing this post’s description of course), and visiting my grandma to make sure she’s doing well, I just lost track of the time, but on the bright side, I got back to playing Street Fighter 6 on my PS5 since I might as well try to finish playing through my Street Fighter Avatar’s world tour storyline, my SF6 Avatar used to go by the full name of Brisk Tintor, but after seeing the in game-mobile text msgs on how my avatar was being addressed by his full name like it was a first name basis, I went to the in game settings, removed the surname: Tintor, so now my SF6 Avatar is plainly addressed as just: Brisk nowadays in my SF6 World Tour PlayThrough of course, any this is what my SF6 Avatar’s full body appearance looks like in my Real Life Likeness with just my face, stomach, height, and skin tone etc, but with some exaggerated mashup design choices of Frank Miller, Rob Liefeld, and the Elven People of my longtime favorite Cult Video Game Series: Jak & Daxter, just for fun. I’m aware that there are some people who have a lot of mixed feelings about the Street Fighter character customization features being weird, but to me: that’s no surprise because longtime street fighter fans should know as well as I do that most of the character design styles for Street Fighter Characters have always had this marvelous mix of Frank Miller, Rob Liefeld, Kevin Eastman, Mark Bagley, and Antarctic Press AmeriManga imho, so I hope you folks like these screenshots of my SF6 Avatar: Brisk, as I’m proud of how I designed him for fun anyway of course.

[miqojak]

🎵 for jak then, and one for jak now!

Jak then:

Part of coping with her trauma was just... shutting everything off. Going numb - and the sick irony of it is that she tried to OD on somnus out in the Thanalan desert one night, after her twin brother abandoned her to go chase boys, and all she had left was the trauma, indentured servitude to a gang, and the constant numbness. She made this offhanded comment about how she wished she could just feel again.

And then a weird one-eyed child showed up at Little Ala Mhigo the next day, near a now-convalescing-Jak, and when Jak couldn't help but offer up her own water she desperately needed to a child in need... she got her flask back with a Dark Knight soul crystal tucked inside it, and the child was gone! No one knew who she was, or had ever seen her before - and boy, did Jak ever start to feel things again. And most anything that's not anger... was/is confusing, and just got translated to anger; to outrage at an unjust world. She had a hard time keeping things in check with that soul crystal, at first - the part of her this animates has a lot of grudges against a world that turned against a child soldier who was made a prisoner of war - and she still has a bone to pick with Ul'dahns about how they treated her, and her people when they needed help the most.

Jak Now:

You'll find more than one song on her playlist about being a god - for all her self-loathing, she has a bit of a god complex. She trusts herself the most, and no one else will put you first and foremost like you can, so why shouldn't she elevate herself? She sees most people around her as 'sheep', anyways - simpletons who are beneath her, and incapable of even beginning to understand her mindset, or the bigger picture(s) in life; distracted by the simple, the mundane, the ignorant bullshit of life. She's got a lot of skeletons in her closet, though, and old problems don't go away when you wear the mask - or the crown - but the more you distance yourself, the more power you have; the safer you are. And she isn't a woman - she's a force of nature, if you ask her.

But being a god is both boon and bane - you're set apart, you're incomprehensible, you're too much for average people. And while these are, ostensibly, the very thing she wants... it's lonely, being misunderstood, and misunderstanding the world around you because of who you are, and how you see things. (And is it any wonder that a song NIN worked on is yet another in my roster?) So many lines in this are evocative for Jak though: "Maybe I could be a better human with a new name"/"Maybe I could be a different human in a new place" - her name isn't even Jak, at the end of the day. Jak is a creation, a new skin entirely.

[archie-sunshine]

Alright, I'm asking smutty questions about your OC's because I'm feeling brave and silly tonight, and I think you OC's are awesome.

If/when Jak finally gets his "equipment", be it online orders or Pandora building him (that's a fun idea), would it be like a tf interface array or would it be an either or situation?

Bonus if you're up for it: If it's like the tf array, does Jak prefer valve or spike? Or switch it with enjoying both?

I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY FOR THIS ASK.

anyway I mapped out JAK's entire internal grid as it is normally, minus the cables and wiring.

pretty simple stuff, but leaves VERY little room for equipment. This is why it took so long for pandora to be talked into giving him junk to work with.

She ended up shifting it to this way instead, making it so that the configuration of his internals is slightly more dangerous than recommended.

The hardware for it is pretty well known, it's likely a second hand set of internal wiring and hardware from a pleasure droid. The junk itself though would only be able to house one set of genitalia at a time.

The genitals themselves would be swappable, adjustable, and likely handmade by Pannie.

I'd say that a pussy is probably a lot easier to sculpt and make work than an extendable/sheathable dick, hence why he'd be outfitted with a pussy first.

and definitely not because pandora wants to peg him so bad.

god this whole ocs thing has gotten TREMENDOUSLY horny. i swear they have deep and moving storylines, they just also. are this. because i need to sate my dark passenger somehow.

[nyuudoupee]

So what are your top headcanons on Keira? Like I know a lot of people give her crap because of what happened in Jak 2 and how ND basically just nerfed her character in J3 only to make her more relevant in Jak X.

Número uno, I WILL return to this eventually because I'm not entirely done yet with the entire JND franchise and everything I am thinking about will probably become more solidified when I finish up 2-X. Número dos, when it comes to the "female character who often gets shafted by the narrative in a playstation game" category of character (kyrie devil may cry 4, kairi kingdom hearts), I will basically go right to their defense no matter what, so chances are I'll stick by Keira's side despite the character nerfing.

That being said, I do have some ideas....

Based on what I've played so far of Jak 2 + all of Jak 1, Keira was probably the most well set for acclimating to a 300+ year timeskip. She's a freakin mechanic and is skilled with her hands, so of course she picks up building as a job once she gets time skipped, and racing as well because that's popular at the time. I have a feeling if time shenanigans permit Keira was also the person who created the original prototype for the zoomers used in JND2 before the timeskip (kind of like how Elsie Bray/the Exo Stranger from Destiny 2 made the sparrow/bike prototypes in that game). She can fix and mod cars and probably is the one who modified Jak's main car in jak X to be a one seater instead of 2. She also has an interest in precursor tech and knows how some of that works, so hypothetically speaking she could pilot a mecha/gundam if she wanted to or incorporate it into her work. If the JND games didn't go the way that they did sequel wise, I think Keira would have definitely become a sage, but probably not the Green sage because she doesn't fall into the traditional "the party healer is a girl" trope (just like her dad) and is more of a technical person. My brain says blue eco.

Character dynamics wise... I don't know yet, but Keira might've been entirely by herself for 2 years out there in Haven working on the time machine zoomer thang alongside the racing gigs she did (not including the people Krew might've sent to her or Erol showing up to hit on her), which might've worn away at her spunk/made her more solitary by virtue of being by herself but she stays optimistic anyway. I do feel like she would be friends with Tess considering she's kind of "normal" and level headed compared to her old group (jak, dax, samos). Ashelin might intimidate her or awaken her bisexuality I dont make the rules, but also remember that I haven't beaten all the games and don't know if they actually all interact at least once in game. If they don't, that means more stuff for me to write!!!

Keira and Daxter would probably work together willingly, even though Dax annoys her. All I'm saying is if Keira had found out even earlier before the 2 year skip that Jak was being held captive in the palace, she would've inverse The Escapists that shit alongside Dax and try and break Jak out of there. She does know where the maintenance elevators are in the area, so a full blown heist doesn't seem too outlandish. She's still got spunk to her even after 2 years with none of her friends/loved ones around her, so she can banter for longer with Daxter if they got the time. Out of the original Sandover trio, she's the middle ground between Dax and Jak and their mediator. She isn't above duct taping Dax to the wall if anything gets too out of hand though

This part is gonna sound a little self-indulgent, but this is my house . Keira and Jak literally share interests so of course they're gonna be interested in eachother. Honestly I think Keira's the one wearing the pants between them, not because Jak doesn't take the initiative with her, but because he respects her and doesn't see a need to step in/insert himself into what she does. Same goes with Keira, there's mutual respect and they help each other out, but she is more outgoing than Jak is and can set him in the right direction if anything bad happens. She might not entirely understand what happened to Jak during those 2 years he was MIA, but she still tries to make sure he's OK/be a support system for him. Also they're bi4bi I again do not make the rules.

Everyone and their mother doesn't consider The L*st Frontier canon or that it ever happened but it's also where the heaviest redesign Keira has ever had comes from. I think it's actually kinda cute. Maybe the shirt she's wearing is an old shirt of Jak's, considering he was also an avid blue collared shirt wearer. IDK that's also very self indulgent for me LMAO

Last thing, there's no way that after a long time or working with heavy machinery and power tools that Keira isn't at least a little bit muscular. Just toned a liiiiiittle bit. Like she has her tummy and arms out, you can probably see some muscle definition through there, same with her back.

That should be everything... thank you for letting me run my mouth and I hope tumblr lets me post this LOL. Keira art will happen again soon i Swear

[masterkirby]

i loved Tomasz Jedrowski's "Swimming in the Dark" so much

a lot of it happens in my city, so it was amazing to be able to map the characters movements; it made them seem so real, so close

too close

inside my head, having the same _rozterki_ as i

a growing up novel for my own liminal state where i can't seem to find something for myself, something to hold onto, to look forward to, to build towards

my friend lately told me that being angry at the world doesn't mean the world will hear me

and that my sorry, frustrated, anxious, furious, but hardly rebellious state is my own fault

i'm so scared

that i won't find anything for myself here, that i can't be how i like to be and do what i deem worthwhile

that if i stay i'll have to give up any ambitions or dreams and accept normativity

i love my city but i also want to leave, i feel i have to leave, to leave this sad sad country

but i do wonder, why leave all of this?

my navigated neighbourhoods & buildings & alleys & _place_ & streets & parks & trees & my Wisła

the first place i felt is mine, is home

but nothing ever gets better here

does it?

this fragment was strong

but i'm not sure it's about success & fulfillment in the capitalist sense

i think it's more of a looking for understanding & a similar culture, a possibility of community

(especially in these damned end-of-days)

because while i love my city as, as it were, an object

i don't find myself at home with what's prioritized here, the topics, the turns of phrases, the _jest jak jest_ mentality

the hustle and the reverence for the yoke, for the cross we are to bear, for the "natural" order of things, for the we-can't-win-anyway and wouldn't even know where to start with change

there's a beat down people filling these plains

i know i have to leave

even to find out for myself if elsewhere is any better

maybe i could finally learn how to fight for what i believe in

to creatively voice or pen or visualize or otherwise materialize criticism of the status quo and also ideas for change, ideals for change,

sustainably grown potatoes, tomatoes, all kinds of greens, lentils, hemps, hops, a solarpunk utopia

trees and bushes and grasses and flowers and plants and mushrooms and animals and insects everywhere

whatever, whatever till my end,

whatever but be it meaningful so i can stop suffocating, swim up and cough up my lungful of despair

[flowergirlmiwa]

randomly telling you how I feel about various Nintendo 64 games

Super Mario 64: this game is everything. one of the most iconic, most important, and best games ever made and one of my personal favorites

Ocarina of Time: mmmmm oough what a loverly game uwuu my favorite Zelda game

Majora's Mask: definitely one of the best, most interesting and most daring games in its series

Mario Party 3: it's 2 but worse but makes you think it's 2 but better. I like a lot about the game, the item bonanza makes it unique from 2 for sure, the reverse mushroom is incredibly useful for clever shortcuts, and the mini games are good. Sadly every single board in the game is bad. MP2 is the better game if only because you won't have to use MP3 maps

Pokemon Snap: better than any Pokemon game after Gen 2

Every AKI wrestling game: I wont get too into it here but if you know you know (about their greatness)

Mega Man 64: I got this as a kid expecting Mega Man 8. anyway mega man legends is one of my favorite games now and I think they made this port for me specifically

kirby 64: slow/10

Super Smash Bros: this was my favorite game of all time between MVC2 being my favorite game and Sonic Adventure 2 being my favorite game. Now all I wish is this game had trophies, either way it's better than smash 4

Diddy Kong Racing: why is getting good locked behind happening to know to release gas before hitting a boost? Like I know you have to use an instruction manual to know what the fuck is happening in Kid Icarus but cmon

Hey You Pikachu: SLOW/10, even after you get free movement it's half walking and waiting simulator and half struggling with the mic designed to understand a 8 year olds voice

Pokemon Puzzle League: holy shit is that PUZZLE LEAGUE?? can we get some 1s in chat for puzzle league? Legend

F-Zero X: YOU LOST YOUR MACHINE. and my dad threw out my game box for this one. And That's Terrible.

Paper Mario: the best baby's first RPG ever made and my next favorite game after Sonic Adventure 2

Bamjo-Mamooie: until Jak and Daxter proved to be the true successor to SM64 this was probably the best game to directly follow and expand on SM64's collectathon aspects. I mean I'm taking SM64 every single day of the week but

Goldeneye: #1 N64 game I wish I had as a kid