#feral jak au

[zehecatl]

since y’all seem to like my ‘Jak gets out early and becomes the Slums’ feral cryptid’ au concept, here’s More™

Jak gets out a year early, which means he’s only been the Baron’s pet experiment for a year. this does not make anything easier. like, at all

the Inciting Incident, as it were, is Errol being really fucking worse than in canon, as the tag might imply. this is fine, because Jak solves the problem. with his teeth :)

Daxter is still under the impression Jak is locked away, and for a good chunk of the story, he is not aware of that having changed. then he is! this does not really help much of anything!

Jak spends most of his time lost in a survival and trauma fuelled haze. unlike in canon, he did not have a Daxter to help him regain a sense of humanity. unlike in canon, he also don’t have the Dark Jak transformation to separate the two states of his mind. now he just has sharper teeth, claws, and little nub horns, because never forget what 3 took for us </3

for a while he straight up refuses to Know any names outside of his own (and Daxter’s). this leads to nicknames. Torn is Grumpy, because literally what else could anyone possibly nickname him. he is so grumpy <3

selectively mute Jak!!! he rarely, if ever, talks, and for a while, the only time we (as the readers) get to see him talk is at the very start, when he drags Errol’s ass. Jak is a vindicative little brat

Jak is the Slums’ very own cryptid. it helps that he kills any KG he encounters, and if there’s anyone the Slums hates, it’s the Krimson Guard

if Torn had worn any kind of actual KG armour, Jak would absolutely have tried to rip his throat out. the only reason Jak is aware that the tattoos don’t inherently equal KG, is because it was very much not uncommon for former KG to end up in the cells

Jak & Torn centric!! Torn really just went to check on the whole Thing because without Jak around, someone has to throw themself into horribly dangerous situations, and Torn can be a little overprotective. as a treat. but Jak is very obviously also an abused, half-starved, teenager and Torn isn’t exactly soft, really, but. well. Torn knows what the KG does to people like this. and Jak is a dangerous, dangerous, thing, and Torn is fighting a losing war, and Jak’s not a knife anyone can wield, not yet, but a knife is a knife, and war requires ruthlessness

(and maybe Torn is a lot softer than he’s willing to admit, and Jak’s not sure he’d respond to true kindness, not so fresh out of pain and dehumanization and experimentation. maybe it’s for the better, that it’s Torn, not Daxter, who’s here, right now, right here)

Jak eventually joins the Underground. eventually. so Daxter gets himself a very nice surprise when, upon finally fucking finding his boy, he’s now embroiled in a war over a city neither of them belongs to. and maybe he could swallow that, but Jak is not happy with him by a long fucking shot, and now Daxter is trying to play-nice with a Jak he barely recognizes while a war he has nothing to do with is going on. it’s shit! he fucking hates it! Haven City gets NO fucking stars

Keira, when Errol shows up mauled to death: what the actual fuck is wrong with this city

Jak doesn’t really like guns, in this one. he doesn’t hate them, eventually starts using them, but, well. he has teeth. he has claws. Jak’s killed more people than most with just that, so why’d he need guns, really?

(besides, as horrible as it is, maybe he likes the taste of blood in his mouth. maybe he likes the way meat gives, the way people look at him, terrified and horrified and way too scared to ever fucking hurt him)

Dark Jak does, kind of, exist. but a true version of him is much farther buried than in canon, and i’m sure nothing could ever be horrible enough to trigger him. surely :)

i haven’t actually decided what to do with the Kid yet, but yes, he would instantly peg Jak as Not Dangerous and decide this is the most safe place in the entirety of Haven City. yes, Jak’s lap is very boney and horrible to sit on, but that’s fine, because Jak is also very warm and extremely likely to bite anyone who Tries Shit and that’s very securing for a traumatized kid, okay!

Jak would definitely fall asleep on Torn. he would absolutely sleep-growl at anyone who tries to move him, and Torn is just kind of- numb. to this. like sure. whatever. the kid can nap on him. it’s fine. he can still work, so whatever

i’ve just decided that Daxter, now adrift without Jak needing him around 24/7, ends up hanging out a lot with Tess. and her guns. and i’m not saying Daxter gets to have the Guns, but. someone gotta make up for the lack of a crazy gunman running around, and Daxter might be an ottsel, but he can be just as unhinged as Jak, when he applies himself. it’s fine

[troblsomtwins829]

This was the AU that came before StrayCat. The Desert Cryptid, also known as "Feral!BBY" for...i hope obvious reasons. Instead of being offed in the fortress, The Baron has Jak sent out to the wasteland to die.

Along the way, Jak goes dark and ends up making the ship crash. He survives, and doesn't ever go...back to normal? Instead just slowly changing over time as the limited food options in the wasteland have him eating metalheads and even people just to have something to eat after so long with nothing. He survives with limited mobility and the most vague idea of what a person is and that he used to be one.

Rumors spread across the sands, between marauder bases and even to Spargus, about this mysterious creature that will attack anything and everything.

Sig is the one who ends up finding and sticking with Jak, could not for the life of me remember why, something about being ill or injured, and Jak saves him rather than kills him because Sig "smells like home." "Home" being some nebulous feeling he can barely recall after spending two years surrounding by concrete and feeling nothing but pain.

Daxter's a hu'men in this AU. Can't remember how it happens, just that it does, and he's still looking for Jak even after all the crap in Haven takes place.

Oddly enough, this AU was also inspired by the NOVEL of Dracula in terms of pacing and the amount of withheld information from the reader.

[discojak]

your honour, may i just say; swap!kim

[assassyart]

I can imagine Jak and Ratchet would argue a lot in the deadlocked together au.

"what do you mean you don't use little incorporal balls of energy for your gun??" "What do you mean you don't use metal bullets or other matters of ammo for your gun??"

"I can heal myself." "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN HEAL YOURSELF!? JUST TAKE THE NANOTECH!" "NO WAY JOSIE, SAVE THEM LATER, I CAN HEAL MYSELF!"

"I think I'm gonna have to use dark eco on these guys." "NOPE, I AM NOT DEALING WITH YOUR FERAL A#$!"

also, roughly where does this au take place in Jak's timeline? Somewhere between Jak 2 or 3?

They definitely won't get along very well at first, much to Ratchet's (& Clank's) dismay. Jak is used to doing things on his own and won't be too keen on having to rely on Ratchet, someone he doesn't know if he can trust. But he'll come around.

Deadlocked Together takes place sometime after Jak 3 so that Ratchet & Jak have roughly the same amount of experience and feats. So yes, this would mean that Jak would have access to both Dark and Light eco... however, for reasons I haven't disclosed yet, he won't be using them unless he absolutely has to. This means, for a while, even Vox won't know the extent of Jak's abilities.

Now, you may be asking, "Well, if this takes place after Jak 3, why does Jak have long hair then?" The answer is quite simple. I like his long hair better.

[goddess731]

So I got another interest...

And as custom, it's an addition to my already VERY expansive au crossover mess that I have. Like bro, LET ME LIVE!!!

Anyway, now Jak's an experiment like Lion-O was. And since you can't see it because of Daxter, he also has a mark in his ear where his tag used to be. Calypso tried to use his dark form to speed up the 'feral' process like he did to Lion-O, but because of his higher control over it, he was able to break out of it once he was sent out on his field test. He's still under the care of Raven and Tanya, but only because Lion-O became really attached to them in the first place.

[hollow-prey]

Ideas with my f/os that occupy way too much space in my brain

If Grimm ever wore formal attire like in some of his Brave Souls cards...goodbye. If I could somehow figure out how to incorporate those outfits into a story without making it cringe or feeling like Grimm would Fucking Hate every second of it, I would. The Brave Souls cards are so good dude I need to write AUs for all of them. The white day cards snipe me on the spot.

also just Grimm being a huge cuddle bug once he gets settled in the human world. Anyone who says he wouldn't be soft and cuddly and affectionate with a human partner is a coward. This man wants affection every second of the day, he loves curling up with Cyr and soaking in her warmth like a lizard laying on a hot rock. Cyr will absently run her hand through his hair and the cat is purring like a motor boat. ADDITIONALLY, whenever Cyr is sick or not feeling well (physically or mentally), Grimm will take it upon himself to cuddle up with her both to protect Cyr and to help her feel better. If anyone gets too close without Cyr's permission he starts growling. If they don't back off he will swipe at them and it will hurt

Phoenix, without a doubt, gives some of the best hugs out of all my boys. There is something about him, and maybe it's how laidback and friendly he is, that tells me his hugs would be fantastic, especially if I've had a bad day and need some comfort and sweet affection. And he's the type who would keep the hug going for as long as you wanted; none of this "pulling away after only five seconds" stuff.

The whole "forbidden romance" trope that plays into Cyr and Razer's relationship...Cyr trying to hide the fact that she's seeing the enemy from Jak and the others...Razer trying to secretly keep Cyr safe from Mizo and all his Shady Business, the pressure and stress mounting on both of them and the tension finally making them snap during one of their meetups. More than likely this "snap" results in them making out because they've been trying to hold back and keep it chill and casual for so long despite the fact that their feelings are now long past the point of "chill and casual"

Errol being an unhinged little freak and yet he's so so loving and sweet and gentle with Cyr. He might get a little frisky now and then but the moment Cyr shows any sign of being uncomfortable he stops, because Errol's desire to protect and love Cyr is greater than whatever feral instincts might have started to take over

Cyr being possessed by another void-demon entity similar to Anti who's jealous of my relationship with him, and Anti is trying to figure out how to get rid of the entity and get Cyr back because the only one he wants is ME.

Yes I know this goes completely against the canon lore but just humor me for a minute: Anti is already intense and chaotic as hell, and that would absolutely translate over to his relationships. When he falls, he falls hard, he is the most ride-or-die entity out there, and thinking of him just being so attached to Cyr and caring about her so much and thinking of how intensely he would show his affections...it Does things to me

[rhinocio]

keeper

[ladydisofdurin]

I truly do go feral for jak 2 & 3 fic rewrites/ aus where sig recognizes jak as mar / learns his bonkers time travel story then rocks up to dadmas like BRuH uR NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS SHIT

[zehecatl]

... okay but where is the JnD au wherein Jak manages, somehow, to get out of that torture dungeon, hands stained and mind entirely fucking lost, and the Slums gets itself a feral Jak to deal with

(Torn, entirely fucking unamused, is not paid enough to deal with a half-starved, wild with pain and terror, Jak. he is not paid at all, in fact)

[zehecatl]

They call him dog, more often than not.

Jak doesn't mind. Doesn't give a shit, because he's been worse than some loyal pet, and dogs bite, like him, so maybe it's a fitting enough thing to be called. Better than monster, or freak, or murderer.

Torn doesn't like it.

He's fucking obvious about it, bristling and glowering whenever he hears the word whispered, hushed. It's funny. Cute.

"It's true," he says, one day, when a single touch might snap Torn in half. Snaps his teeth, fangs against fangs.

Torn glares at him, then. Looks put out, annoyed, like Jak is being purposefully dumb, which, maybe. He could dig down, could peel it apart and find the sore spot Torn is gnawing at, but this is easier.

Quicker, too.

He raises his eyebrows. Spreads his palms out, fingers splayed. Goes "woof."

He knocks Torn's knife aside with the back of his palm. Laughs. Avoids the hand going for his throat, and flips over- feels the crackle of dark eco roaring through his veins, feels the spark of it between his claws.

The side of Torn's foot catches him, and he spins across the floor, gets his hands up just in time to nick claws across scarred skin, as Torn pins him down.

"You're impossible," Torn says, palm warm across his collar, and Jak could tear his throat out, could dig his claws in. Could kill him, could do it, just like this-

"You're not some fucking animal, Jak."

His arm drops.

Jak thinks he might have flinched, hard. Feels an ache in the back of his head.

"Shut up," he croaks, throat locking up, breath hitching. He feels small. Torn's barely got any weight on him, and still he feels trapped.

Torn leans back. Easy as that. Removes his palm, his weight, and lets Jak turn sideways, lets him curl up on the floor.

He doesn't leave.

Sits down beside him, instead, legs touching, just so, so Jak knows he's here. It's infuriating.

(it helps)

Torn doesn't say anything. He sits there, on the dirty floor, and lets Jak dissociate through a panic attack, because apparently he knows to do that. Apparently he knows Jak well enough to hit him where it hurts, just to get the fucking sick out.

He hadn't even realised it was starting to rot.

[zehecatl]

Jak’s been quiet for a while.

Longer than he usually is, when there’s something on his mind. It’s a heavy silence, the kind that’s more like a storm, brewing, and Daxter is fucking terrified.

It’s like Jak is sizing him up, and finding him wanting, again.

(before, before, Daxter would never have worried about this. about failing him, about not being enough. but now there’s a chasm between them, and Daxter’s been bleeding out for weeks, months, and he hasn’t felt good enough in too fucking long)

He focuses on cleaning his guns. Slotting parts together, pulling them apart. Trying to still his hands from shaking, but Jak’s silence is unnerving, prickly, and he’s starting to consider just leaving, when Jak makes a decisive noise, like the rumble of a hoverbike kicking into gear.

“I miss you,” Jak says, without any of the emotional fanfare that kind of statement would usually entail. “Come with me, next mission.”

Daxter realises his mouth is agape.

Realises his hands have stilled in their work, that his heart is hammering, desperate and shocked behind his ribs. Feels like someone took a knife to his gut and tore it open, except it’s all poison, flooding out of him. The relief is so sharp he might cry.

“Okay,” he says, and sounds choked, and Jak isn’t looking at him, so Daxter lets himself curl forward, lets himself cling to the gun in his lap, claws clicking across metal, echoing along with the hitching sound of suppressed sobs.

Jak doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t reach out, doesn’t ruffle his fur, doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t leave. He sits there, quiet, and Daxter has missed him so badly.

(it’s not the same. it’s not, will never be, because Daxter failed him, and Jak is rougher around the edges than he’s ever been, more shard than mirror, but Daxter doesn’t care, because even beneath all that, Jak’s still Jak. and Daxter just wants his friend back)

It’ll be okay, Tess had told him, time and time again. Had reassured him on the worst days, the worst nights, and he hadn’t ever believed her, not truly, but, hah- of course she was right.

Of course she was.

It really will be okay.

[zehecatl]

Red Head's eyes are blown wide. Dark with fear, terror, something visceral and animal.

Jak staggers back a step. Wipes the blood from his mouth, smears gore across his cheek. Spits the chunk of meat out, and laughs, soundless. 

Red Head stares, blank faced, at the chunk of his own throat. Makes a distressed, desperate, gurgling sound, blood pebbling at his lips, starting to bubble at the corner of his mouth.

Jak's delighted.

"I'm not your toy," he crows, in a voice creaky from disuse, from screaming. Laughs, this time with a hacking sound. Red Head's eyes snaps back to him; wide, terrified.

Jak laughs harder, louder, wilder. Feels it in his chest, like something breaking, shattering, and Red Head isn’t calling him shit anymore, isn’t pinning him down, isn’t hurting him. The righteousness of it makes his head spin, makes his chest heave, and each unhinged peal of laughter that leaves him goes higher, higher, higher-

Until he stops.

Breathes in, deep. Tilts his head back down, and stares at Red Head, at the blood gushing from between white-knuckled fingers, at the way he’s just sitting there, frozen with fear.

If Jak was a year younger, he would leave him there. Would turn around, and walk away. 

If he was a year younger, it would never have come to this at all.

When he steps forward, steps closer, Red Head opens his mouth to scream, to yell, to beg and plead and ask him, please, please, don’t hurt me.

And like Jak, nothing comes out. Just blood, just silence, and Jak laughs again, feels it rip out his chest, tear at every bit of him that’s left, and it’s funny, isn’t it?

Blood smears beneath his feet. Red Head claws backward, head shaking, mouth moving, forming words Jak doesn’t give a shit about. He crouches down, curls his fingers around Red Head’s ankle, digs in claws.

Dark Eco snaps and crackles.

Skin tears.

If he could, Red Head would be screaming.

[zehecatl]

He likes watching her work.

Always has, since they were both small, and Keira was still tinkering away with small stuff, little machines and compact mechanisms. He used to sit beside her, arms folded on the table and head laid down, and just- watch.

She's brilliant.

Daxter never much cared for it- too much sitting around, too much silence. Jak loves the guy, but silence's never been his thing, never known a quiet moment he can't break, and the few times Daxter had tried to join them in their still little bubble, it had ended with a whole lot of bickering, and very little actual tinkering. He's stopped, after a while, or maybe it had all just gone the way of it, and now they're grown up, they're older, they're in the future-

Daxter has a life, outside of Jak. He's not used to that.

Not used to having one himself, either.

Keira's a constant, though. Something he can cling to, fall back on- he's adrift, after. Lost in the whole of it, two years spent broken and barely functioning, and then days, weeks, more weapon than human. He'd picked it, had chosen it himself, but- didn't do him any favours, is all.

So. So. Keira. Keira's lab, with all her bikes and machines and smell of oil and latent electricity, sharp in the air, and he can watch her work, like he used to.

She threw him a look, the first time. Raised eyebrows, quirked lip. She hadn't looked angry, just- bemused, maybe. Almost like she thought him above this.

It hadn't hurt, just as it hadn't not. Complex feelings. Complicated, messy. Tangled up, and hard to pick apart, which was just Jak's entire life, now.

But she hadn't asked, and he hadn't explained, and then he had done it again, and again, and she had stopped looking at him like that, had smiled instead. Had started talking outloud, sometimes, sharing her work, what she was doing, and it-

It's nice.

Daxter doesn't join. It's time apart, time he spends with Tess, alone, and Jak thinks- maybe it's good for them. Maybe this is a life they can live, they can have. Something they can keep.

"You're thinking awfully loud over there," Keira says, and Jak startles- not enough to crunch the metal beneath his palms, but enough to briefly dig in claws, and feel it groan.

He flushes. Doesn't exactly curl in on himself, but he raises a shoulder in something of a shrug. "Lots to think about."

She cocks her head. Steps closer, and at some point she must have decided on a break, because she's a lot closer than she should be, and she's cleaning motoroil off her hands.

She steps up to him. He's sitting on one of her tables, so he's taller than her, is almost looming above her, but he doesn't feel like that. She slots herself in between his legs, drops the rag behind him, and looks straight up, in his eyes.

"You good?"

Hands on his knees. Even through the fabric of his pants, it makes his skin prickle. Makes him shiver.

"... yeah."

Sometimes, he can't handle it.

It's different, with Daxter. Easier, because that's paws, not hands, and sometimes the feel of skin on his own, even through fabric, makes him-

It's bad. Sometimes.

But today- today it's okay. Today, he curls forward, reaches out a hand to tug her a little bit closer, because sometimes he's so fucking starved it still feels like he's locked away in the Baron's little torture chamber, and he's never gonna get out.

Keira hums. Steps even closer, somehow, and raises a hand to tug him down, to press his face to her neck. Wraps her arms around him, and he exhales at the feel of them, breathes out so shakily he might as well be crying.

She hugs him close.

Lets him bury his face in her skin, and doesn't even say anything when tears prick at his eyes, and probably burn at her throat. Just hums, and holds him close.

After a while, he slips his arms around her, and hugs her back.

[zehecatl]

The stench of meat, flesh, hits Torn like a round to the chest.

He staggers back. Swallows bile, acid, and has to breathe in sharp through clenched teeth, wrestle down the nausea, the suddenly, stark, knowledge that whatever this thing is- it's dangerous.

It's so fucking dangerous.

No one had said shit about that. Guards been dying, sure, left and fucking right, but this isn't that- this is something else, because the stench of torn open meat, rotting viscera, isn't just killing. Torn's killed his fair fucking share, but he's never done anything that'd result in this.

Still. Fucking still.

Torn tugs his scarf over his nose- fights down the urge to turn right around, and just leave this, because he's better than that, now, he's got to be- and then he walks forward. Follows the stench, and then the blood. And then, worse, his stomach turning, ropes of intestines, bits of meat, torn off chunks.

Human, they'd said. Something human looking, and Torn doesn't fucking know what could do this, can't imagine anything human would ever, so maybe they weren't looking right, maybe they were imagining this, or maybe, maybe-

Something squelches. Bursts beneath his feet, and Torn freezes.

And then something is there.

Torn staggers back- blood wells across his face, dribbles down his face, and he's cursing, fumbling for a knife he should have had fucking out- except fuck that, fuck that, something whistles through the air, something sharp and wicked, and Torn falls back on instinct.

Drops. Hits the ground, blood smearing up his side as he rolls, lashes out- catches something, and whatever's attacking him hits the ground too, and Torn pushes himself up, blinks blood out his eyes, and-

A kid-

Claws catching the light. Torn snaps a hand up, barely manages to shift the trajectory, and something snarls, teeth flashing, catching, and what the fuck-

Torn pivots. Feels the other hand catch at his ear, break skin, but he's got a hand on his knife, he's dropping low, and-

He slams the pummel of his knife into ribs. Feels the kid crumple, a cry keening out their throat, pain and surprise flashing across their face- Torn catches them, palms to their shoulders, and he's considering trying for something soothing, when claws dig into his shoulders, draw blood.

He hisses. "You're one persistent brat, aren't you?" he grumbles, and gently tips them over instead, drops them to the ground. Claws leave his shoulders, and fuck, they straight up went through his armour, drew blood.

What the actual fuck, he thinks, staring down at the kid- the kid- lying there, on the ground, and it's his first proper look, and what he sees makes his stomach flip.

Pale skin, stained. Covered with dried blood, soaked with it. There's something that might have been a prison uniform, once, beneath the crust, and Torn's known, hasn't been able to avoid it, that Baron Praxis has been- experimenting, but this is-

The kid has claws. There's small nubs of keratin in their hair, and below the stench of blood, meat, viscera and gore, is something Torn still has nightmares about, on his worst days.

Dark eco. The kid's been doused in it, and it reeks off them, and what the fuck.

Torn settles down on his heels. Covers his mouth, and kind of just stares, because what does he even- what does he do?

Baron Praxis is playing with dark eco. Baron Praxis is toying with dark eco, and whoever this kid is- he's part of it.

And Torn's stumbled right into it.

[zehecatl]

actually, that reminds me, i should finish writing this one scene from the feral Jak au