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#free day thursday
radioactivepeasant · 5 months
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Snippets: Free Day Thursday
Adopted Dadmas: Dadmas versus Haven
The red light was blinking on Jak’s talk-box again. Damas was no fool, he knew that meant someone was spying through the floating comm -- or attempting to. Doubtless, the eavesdropper thought they were being very subtle, keeping silent whenever adults were present. As if they believed Jak would keep their presence a secret. As if they believed he would never tell.
Damas tore a circle of flatbread into pieces and used them to scoop a mixture of cooked peppers onto his plate. He pretended not to notice the talk-box hovering next to Jak’s elbow in a terrible attempt at stealth, instead choosing to engage Daxter in a conversation. He was determined to get the kid apprenticed to the head of the merchant guild one way or another. Daxter had a head for business and trade that Jak, simply put, did not. He nodded along when his friend talked, but privately Damas thought it would do Daxter good to be around adults who could encourage his interests.
Periodically, Jak cast swift glances at his talk-box during the meal. He seemed like he was expecting someone to speak at any moment -- or more like he was expecting orders of some kind. His shoulders were tense, and he was shoveling down food much too quickly, like he thought he wasn't going to have time to finish it.
"Slow down, young one. The shrimp isn't going anywhere, and neither are you," Damas admonished.
Jak didn't slow down much, but he did start chewing a little more thoroughly. Small victories. Still, he looked tired, and on-edge. Had Ashelin or the sage been badgering him again when no one was around?
The initial idea had been to lay a trap. To feign ignorance and bait the spy into speaking aloud, thus forcing Unpleasant Diplomatic Discussions with Haven's motley assortment of would-be leaders. But just now, Damas decided, the health and wellbeing of his son took precedence over strategy. And he still had the element of surprise, anyway.
"Talk-boxes off at the table, Jak," he announced, gesturing directly to the lens watching them, "This is a meal, not a media interview."
The boy flinched and looked guilty. He had no reason to; he'd been open with Damas about the demands for labor since he first returned from Haven. But then, he'd been groomed from such a young age to believe that bad things happened because he didn't work hard enough for his "friends". Perhaps he still feared retaliation for establishing healthy boundaries? Better to confront the issue head-on then, Damas decided.
"If your uninvited watcher has an emergency, they are free to petition me directly," he said, leveling a stern glare at the talk-box. "On their own time, not yours. Come on, switch it off."
Someone made a muffled sound, barely picked up by the talk-box's speaker. It seemed they were not expecting to be so casually acknowledged.
"Jak-!" the watcher tried to protest, but Jak reached for the power button.
"Right. Sorry, Pa."
Once the light had faded from the little camera, Damas nodded, satisfied. He picked up a shallow bowl with tomango in it and held it out to Jak.
"Here. You need the vitamins."
Begrudgingly, Jak took two slices, then a third when Daxter gave him The Look across the table.
The ottsel cleared his throat meaningfully.
"Pal, you gotta get better at telling those people no. They can't hurtcha!"
Jak hunched over his plate, frowning.
"I know," he muttered sullenly. "I- I do know that, okay? They just don't listen!"
Daxter sighed and his ears drooped. "Yeah...I know. Old Greenstuff only hears what he wants to hear. Always has."
With a frustrated groan, Jak rubbed his eyes. "After everything he's done, I shouldn't be having trouble cutting Samos off. Why do I keep going back?!"
"He's familiar," Daxter admitted, and not without a touch of loathing. "He was all we knew for like, our whole lives. I hate him -- I'll always hate him -- but I get being afraid to lose that last connection to Sandover."
"....yeah." Jak winced. "I um...I think you're right. It's just. It's hard."
"I know, pal."
"And he knows I have two artifacts that go with those weird pillars in the forest!" Jak continued, "What do I do when he starts asking why I haven't brought them?"
"You end the call," Damas interrupted firmly, "or you give the line to an older Wastelander. Collecting those relics serves the interests of our people, and our people will be working in teams to locate them."
Perhaps this was Jak’s fight as much as anyone else's -- this Daystar and its coming threat -- but Damas was reluctant to involve him. Wasn't losing one son bad enough? He'd never survive losing a second one!
Besides, even someone as talented at sneaking into hidden places as Jak couldn't infiltrate places locked by the Seal of Mar. Whatever the Grand Council of Haven wanted with the catacombs, it was a matter for Damas to deal with, not the boys.
Jak picked at his tomango slices almost glumly. Whether it was his own struggles with setting boundaries that bothered him, or Damas’s advice for dealing with future calls, no one knew. But Daxter and Damas both knew that Jak wouldn't keep it bottled up for long. Sure enough, after a couple minutes of mangling his food without eating it, Jak finally looked up.
"You didn't tell me you were sending other people to look for the relics I told you about."
It was almost a question and almost a complaint.
"No, I didn't," Damas acknowledged, and sipped his tea. "The topic hadn't come up between us yet. Is there something about it that concerns you?"
Jak had difficulty putting his thoughts into words. He started and stopped three times before muttering, "It's dangerous. What if someone gets hurt and I'm not there?"
"What if someone doesn't get hurt and you're not there?" Damas countered. He leaned an elbow on the table and gestured to himself almost self-deprecatingly. "Age does not grace the Spargan who is careless, nor are many years added to the foolish. Do not worry so much about people who were hunting metalheads for sport before you were even born, son."
"Admittedly," said Daxter, "We're still getting used to the concepts of adults who can actually fight their own battles. Am I complaining? Only when they decide it's "Take Your Ottsel To Work Day". But even I still go into jobs expecting to have to save everyone's butts at some point."
"Justified with the monks." Jak pointed a piece of tomango at his best friend.
"Yeah, justified with Mime Club."
Damas threaded his fingers together under his chin and watched the boys a moment.
"How about this," he offered, "If an artifact is located but not yet retrieved, I will give you the option of participating in the mission. Or, you can wait until everything has been gathered, and we will go to the pillars together."
For a moment, Jak brightened. Then he looked pensive again. "What if there's trouble? I mean. I was never really- I never claimed Haven, but they act like I belonged to them. What if me bringing another nation into their forest makes trouble for Spargus?"
"Hmph. Perhaps it is better to settle this now, rather than engage in hypotheticals."
Damas held out one hand.
"Give me your talk-box."
Jak narrowed his eyes. "What are you going to do?"
"Not your concern."
"Papá...." somehow Jak managed to sound both suspicious and scolding.
Damas remained unmoved. "Hand it over, boy."
Reluctantly, Jak did so. He cringed when the device powered on, and Keira's voice poured out.
"Jak? Are you okay? Daddy came in fussing about someone interfering with- you're not Jak! Where's my friend?!"
By the mortified expression on his son's face, Damas guessed this was the sage's daughter. The childhood friend Jak still sort of had a crush on.
"Tell your father to stop harassing my son," Damas said shortly. "Especially during hours set aside for family meals. Was he raised in a barn? In fact, ask him that for me."
"Pa, no!" Jak hissed, making a futile grab for the talk-box.
"Your son?! Who are you? Who- hey, Daddy, c'mere. You know this guy? He says he's Jak’s dad!" Keira became muffled for a moment, stepping away from her own device to drag her father over. "Why's this guy think you're harassing Jak? We've only called him twice since he left. Right?"
"Insisting he keeps his comm on at all times so that you can all monitor every moment of his day is not an acceptable use of Federation communication lines," Damas cut in. "I shouldn't have to tell you that spying on the nation of Spargus in such a way could be taken as an act of war."
"This-! This is bigger than Haven or the Wastelands!" Samos sounded flustered- even a bit nervous. "Surely you understand the claim destiny has upon Ja-"
Damas made a dismissive sound in his throat, cutting the sage off. "Pah. Destiny. I should think the recent Praxis regime and my own continued existence would be enough to call concepts such as destiny into question. As it stands, my claim on Jak supersedes "destiny" -- or more accurately, you."
"The fate of the planet hangs in the balance!" Samos cried, though somewhat subdued compared to his usual confidence. "Can't you see that?! Don't be so bullheaded, Jak is needed-"
Jak recognized the glint in the king’s eyes as mischief. Daxter looked a little too eager to see where this was going. Jak resisted the urge to cover his face in embarrassment. Why and oh why did Keira have to be the one to answer the line?!
"Oh? Are you planning to challenge me for custody of my son?" Damas bared his teeth in an unfriendly smile. "Please, by all means! The Arena is ready whenever you are."
"Pa!" Jak gripped the sides of his head and stared at the man. "Not in front of Keira!"
"Look, old man-" Damas ignored Daxter's delighted cackle. "This planet will survive through united efforts, not by sitting back and hoping one boy alone will get the job done. Now, if Haven wishes to negotiate a temporary alliance to get this done sooner, there is no one stopping them from requesting a meeting with the Wasteland Federation. In the meantime, the Federation intends to continue preventing the apocalypse with or without your participation."
"You are?" Keira cut in over her father again, sounding genuinely curious. "You mean there's more people who can get into ruins?"
Jak got up and moved to the head of the table. Damas moved the talk-box out of his reach preemptively, but Jak made no move to grab it.
"That's their whole thing, turns out. You know Krew? Yeah, everything he sold you, he bought from Wastelanders. Even the defunct power cells."
The slightly warped image of Keira on the screen flickered as she leaned closer.
"Seriously?! I could've cut out the middleman and just worked with them all this time?! Ughhhhh. Hindsight is 20/20 I guess. You want to show them my research from the palace library?"
Behind her, Samos jumped. "The what?! Keira, the library was destroyed with the rest of the palace!"
"The building collapsed, sure," Keira retorted, "But the data cores are still mostly intact in there. If you don’t mind crawling through some tight places and bringing lots of Scout Flies, it's a cinch to get the files for Vin."
Samos looked apoplectic. "Keira! That's far too dangerous for you!"
His daughter rolled her eyes. "What? Jak and Daxter can do it but I can't? Don't you trust me?"
Damas stifled a chuckle and elbowed Jak. "I like this one," he whispered. "Invite her to Spargus sometime."
Jak wished the floor would swallow him.
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finncakes · 11 months
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mothafuckin' tanks bitch!!!! 💥👊💥
redraw of photo under the cut
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#critical role#bells hells#deni$e#denise bembachula#orym#orym of the air ashari#ashton greymoore#deni$e bembachula#cr3#I LOVE THESE THREE#orym & the two barbarians that are so so charmed by him#all their interactions have been excellent#that conversation between orym & deni$e is living in my head rent free#and ofc 20 ep later still thinking abt ep 40 boat conversation#pls reach out orym....or ashton check on him :((#they've been nonstop i feel like team wildemount had like. a lil more of a chance to talk abt their feelings and stuff before uthodurn#anyway realizing there is a likelihood that when they finally scry they will just see chetney stealing#cause they only have stuff that links to him & if it's during the whole thing with umudara (sp?) then he is not with the group LOL#we'll see ! cause i'm sure matt is keeping track of the days and how they're lining up#anyway this is my long-winded way of saying i want it to be thursday already#feel bad that i'm more pumped for this group than i was for wildemount...but look#two out of three of my faves are here. the ship i'm routing for is together. the guests are all my brands (and AMIEE).#there's also no background wondering how the other group is doing and once this is done we're back to the full group#and ALSO high likelihood that hishari stuff will show up....and i have been WAITING#HISHARI I LOVE U#i have so many thoughts swimming in my brian this is where i release them#GOD OK AND ORYM THOUGHTS. SO MANY ABT HIM I AM SEEING MORE PARALLELS BETWEEN HIM & ASHTON THEY NEED TO TALK.#AND ASHTON ALMOST START /THE CONVERSATION/ THEY'VE BEEN AVOIDING ABT THE HISHARI BUT QUICKLY STOPPED#GIRL TALK TO HIM !!!!!!!!!#OK if you read all this thank you i love u byeeeeee
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the-bi-space-ace · 11 days
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Hi. I went to the dentist today and I was very brave about it so headcanons about the clone boys and the dentist for you.
Echo: hates the dentist quite like any other medical thing. He will put off going as long as possible and refuses to go alone. He does however floss every day and take very good care of his teeth. The routine of it all is something he loves doing and it makes him feel put together.
Hunter: honestly just knock him out if you’re taking him to a dentist. His senses hate it here. It’s bright. Everything inside his mouth hurts. There’s too many things happening. Stop. Stop it all. Brushes regularly but won’t floss.
Crosshair: has constant jaw pain and the dentist keeps telling him that the toothpicks are bad for his teeth but he refuses to stop. Bit the dentist as a kid and threatens to do it even as an adult. Worst patient. Insists on a little treat afterwards (Echo always takes him to go get a little treat bc they go together each and every time)
Tech: prepared man. Knows each step and how much it’ll cost before he even books the appointment. He is that Ron Swanson ‘I know more than you’ meme. Him and Echo have a nighttime routine together so they both have excellent check ups.
Wrecker: sweet man loves his candy! He has a few cavities here and there but he does brush regularly! Hates flossing! Has accidentally swallowed mouthwash like it was a shot before though (this isn’t based on previous experience what do you mean shut up)
Cody: if he misses a step he will start over. Doesn’t feel clean without it. Has never had a cavity and thinks it’s some kind of competition. He goes every six months because they recommended it to him in his first adult visit and he just… does it. He wants to win at dentist which is perfectly reasonable and a thing you can accomplish.
Rex: has to be dragged and grumbles the whole time. Is bitter about Cody ‘winning’ at the dentist. Takes decent enough care of his teeth but hasn’t been to a dentist in five years. Cody tells him he’s ’setting a bad example’.
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bisamwilson · 9 months
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MOVIES ARE BACK BABEY
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neverevan · 4 months
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Fuck It Friday ☔️
I was tagged by @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @eddiebabygirldiaz @wikiangela and @jeeyuns thank youuu 💛
Aside from some editing, my Christmas fics are all done and now I can slowly return to my main wips, so I thought I'll post a snippet from Eddie's pov in the mudslide fic (most of that part is just too spoilery and I rarely share from it, but this bit was waiting to come out for a while now, so here 🫶).
He mostly thought about Christopher; imagined him waking up in the morning, pestering Buck for breakfast and news he couldn't give, going to school and coming home, sitting at the dining table, doing his homework… Just normal things.
He would’ve given anything to be with them right now. To walk out of his room in the morning and see Buck’s sleep-rumpled face, his curls flat on top of his head, his smile lazy and crooked and his bare feet on Eddie’s living room carpet.
To watch the tattoos shift on Buck’s naked shoulders as he stretched and to hear his hoarse voice as he mumbled out a quiet “morning” on his way to the bathroom. To smell the scent of his overnight sweat still lingering on his skin while making their coffees side by side, waiting for Christopher to finally shuffle out of his room for breakfast.
To hear the sleepy mumble stifled in his own ribs as Chris gave him his good morning hug and see the toothy grin tugging at his lips as Buck entertained him throughout breakfast, making him giggle with his silly facts and jokes.
To yell “come on, we're gonna be late” at the front door as Chris ran back inside for a book he forgot and then to yell again after Chris was back but Buck just realised he had left his phone on the kitchen counter.
To sit in the car and talk about after-school plans and listen to the radio on a low volume before dropping Chris off with a hug each and then to bundle back into the truck and head to work together, barely just having enough time to stop for one of those creamy coffee monstrosities Buck liked so much — that somehow Eddie learned to like too, only if to indulge in the fantasy of what Buck’s lips would taste like on his own.
✨no pressure tagging: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @nmcggg @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @theotherbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @ladydorian05 @rainbow-nerdss
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dilfpassing · 6 months
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In a perfect world I'd sit down and make art all day long but unfortunately I am afflicted with executive functioning issues and many mental illnesses which prevent me from using my leisure time productively
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lovecoredeity · 25 days
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hi if I just post the adoptable I made here can y’all just give me ideas of how to price it? pricing shit is difficult I’m like hhhh
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catominor · 5 days
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i did make a . playlist because im mad i dont have time to finish my senator rpf right now tbh
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sunmontuewrites · 23 days
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Good news abounds!
My car battery was NOT DEAD (so I am now at work and don't start work for another 30 minutes).
Both kids are hale and hearty (still hate being woken up by AC/DC more than Wham!) and are going to school!
I am ALSO feeling better, no congestion this morning.
I have ZERO meetings today.
I have dinner with friends tonight (after parent-teacher interviews).
So all-round a pretty good day...
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radioactivepeasant · 1 month
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Snippets Thursday: Meddling Mar (part 2 of 2)
(Jak is back from Haven and in so much trouble)
PREV
"Gate pass."
Two words, absolutely devoid of emotion, were all it took to shatter the facade of defiance Jak had crafted. Nausea churned his stomach, and he bit down on the insides of his cheeks until he tasted blood. He'd known there would be a price to pay. But this-
With a shaking hand, Jak drew the gate pass from his pocket and silently cursed the trembling limb for betraying his weakness as he held it out for Damas to take.
Damas didn’t look at him.
"Three weeks." His voice was a little too calm. Jak could feel anger underneath the words, waiting like vipers under the sand. "You left for three weeks without a word to me, to Phobos. To anyone. And in that time the only word from you I had, I had to get secondhand from Sig."
He didn't look at Jak.
"What have you to say for yourself?"
Jak tried to swallow around the boulder in his throat and wondered why this, of every scolding or reprimand he'd ever received, terrified him beyond words. He wanted to tell Damas that he'd tried to come back the first day, only to be stopped by the force fields. He wanted to tell him how Veger had paid for signal jammers around the walls, fearing that other city-states might take advantage of Haven's compromised capitol. He wanted to beg for forgiveness. But it all fell short, didn’t it? Pathetic excuses from a pathetic excuse for a hero. A runaway. A deserter, that's what he was.
Jak’s throat closed around his words, stifling them. He swallowed, felt the muscles of his neck tense and pulse. But the panic had a stranglehold on his throat and he just couldn't.
Damas wouldn't look at him.
Damas couldn’t see.
Look at me! Please, please look at me! he silently begged.
"Haven's-" Daxter's voice squeaked into the air between them, faltering and guilty. "They...made it real easy to get in and near impossible to get out. We got caught in the lockdown, just a couple hours after we got there. It wasn’t supposed to be three weeks. It wasn’t even supposed to be three days."
"And that somehow excuses you slipping out like thieves in the night, unsanctioned and unaccompanied?" Damas demanded, finally turning his eyes to them. "Do you know how many people were searching the city and desert for you? We did not even know you had made it to Haven until Sig went back to look for you! We feared Egil had taken you!"
Jak physically took a step back. Damas looked as though he hadn't slept in days. Deep, dark circles ringed his bloodshot eyes, and his face was haggard.
I did this.
He opened and shut his mouth uselessly, then fell back on SparSign on instinct.
"I didn't think-"
"You didn't think," Damas interrupted, "Full stop. Haven is a hotbed of our enemies, Jak, and you just walked into the vipers' den. I had no idea where you were! What if you'd been injured? Or arrested? Hm? What if they’d framed you for something else and tried to kill you?"
A little confused, but afraid to further provoke the man, Jak kept his head down.
"It's never mattered before that they tried to kill me."
"Because I didn't know you were there!"
Even Damas seemed surprised by his own cracking voice.
"You run from one danger to the next like you think it doesn't matter if you live or die. It. matters. Jak. You think you're the only one who suffers if something happens to you?"
Jak cringed. He knew he wasn't. Daxter was always there. Daxter was always in danger because of him.
And he'd left Spargus down one person for three weeks, which meant someone else probably had to do his share of the work-
And Mar was alone that whole time-
Shame, hot and acidic as dark eco, burned in his gut. It reached up with long claws to pin his lungs shut.
"I- I'm sorry. I'll go. I'm sorry," he signed, utterly dejected. "But don't make our brother leave. Don't blame him or Daxter for what I did."
"Go?" Damas demanded, stepping closer, "And where, exactly, did you think you would be going?"
oh gods, he's going to make me say it. He's going to make me pronounce my own exile-!
Jak couldn’t speak. He just gestured to the gate pass resting in Damas’s clenched fist.
Shock colored the king’s eyes for an instant, softening his face into something sadder. Wearier.
"You-" he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "You think I- I'm exiling you?"
Jak kept his eyes on the floor and twisted his fingers into his tunic.
"I understand why," he answered, short and to the point.
A strangled noise startled him enough to drag his gaze upward, meeting Damas’s eyes.
"You-!"
He inhaled sharply through his nose and shut his eyes for four seconds.
Then he stormed down the steps and caught Jak by the shoulder. Before Jak had time to think, he'd been yanked into Damas’s arms, all but crushed against his chest.
Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't this.
"You stubborn, frustrating child-!" Damas croaked next to his ear. "Exiled?! After I spent three weeks barely knowing if you were alive, you think I would let you out of my sight?"
Jak stiffened. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. He screwed up, he got rejected until he earned some kind of redemption. That was the script life followed. He didn't have a script for this.
"Mar told us you-" Damas swallowed. Gritted his teeth. "You thought you had to lead enemies away from our walls. Alone! Have we done nothing to earn your trust, even after all this time?"
Jak couldn’t answer. He could barely move. He wanted to protest that he fought his own battles, that he didn't want his past screw-ups to come haunt his only real home. But his mind caught on Damas’s words and rang in his ears.
Mar
Mar.
He knows.
Jak’s jaw worked in silence, and his eyes darted left to meet the same panic in Daxter's eyes.
Damas pulled back and gripped Jak’s face between his hands, forcing his gaze back to him.
"Jak, I lost you once before. I cannot endure it a second time. If you will not heed caution for your own sake, then at least think of your brothers first. Think of Phobos and me."
What.
Tongue finally loosened, Jak choked on questions and only managed inquiring noises. A second time? What was Damas talking about? Why was he hugging him instead of yelling at him?
"I don't...I don't understand-" he tried to breathe around the tightness still gripping his lungs. "I don't- Mar told you?"
Damas’s eyes glimmered, the only evidence betraying how close to breaking down he truly was. "No, son," he said quietly.
The word seemed weightier than usual.
"I knew."
Jak pulled back. "You knew?! How long?!"
"In truth? The day I found you in the desert." Damas blew out a breath that was just barely shakier than it should have been. "I knew in my heart who I had found, but after two years I was afraid to believe it without proof. That proof came sixteen days ago."
Sixteen days. While Jak was gone, then. Damas had been looking for Mar before Jak had come from the past? Why? He was nothing like the Underground, so Jak couldn't imagine that he'd meant to use Mar's powers for his own gain.
Swallowing hard, he tentatively asked, "What proof?"
Damas looked away for a moment, reaching for something in one of his belt pouches.
"The results of a cheek swab when we found you. A...computer test. One that can show us the building blocks of a person's blood, and who their parents were."
He knows I'm Mar! Jak realized, and excuses and justifications crowded behind his teeth. He knows we aren't blood brothers-!
Having apparently found what he was looking for, Damas opened his hand and held it out to Jak.
An amulet of Mar, far older than the one Jak shared with his brother, lay on his open palm, and the last pieces began to click into place.
"I see you, Jak," Damas whispered. "You don't have to keep fighting alone."
"You're...you're one of us?" Jak asked, "Like, from the- the future?"
"One of you?" Damas laughed, a little brokenly. "I'm your father, you ridiculous boy!"
His father?!
In the secrecy of his heart, Jak could easily admit that he saw the man as a father-figure, if an idealized one. And as he and Mar had started to ease up and let Damas closer, he'd pretended sometimes that their relationship was more familial than mentor and student. He knew Mar thought of Damas -- and Phobos a little moreso -- as "his" grown-ups.
Had they, somewhere deep inside, remembered them? Was that bond instinctive, picking up something that had always existed? Or had they built it themselves?
Jak wanted to apologize -- for leaving, for not explaining, maybe for existing in this form and not his childhood shape -- but what came out of him was only a noise. Soft, pained. He squeezed his eyes shut as if that would help him keep his jaw clenched.
"Oh, oh-"
Damas pulled him close again, shushing him as if he were a child.
"Oh Jak."
His voice was hoarse, and full of pain.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I waited so long for proof. I should- I should have confronted you the first time I saw you using Mar's sign name."
He pressed Jak's head against his shoulder and held him tightly. "I'm- I'm sorry I made you think you might be sent away. I was- You scared me, Jak. I thought I was going to lose you before I could find out if you knew-"
Over Jak's shoulder, Damas looked down at Daxter and sighed. "Thank you," he said, "for going with him. If you say you got caught in a lockdown, I- I believe you, Daxter."
"You...do?" Daxter asked in a very small voice.
He didn't know what to feel. Relief? Confusion? A bitter envy?
"You've never given me a reason not to trust you," Damas answered simply.
Daxter swallowed twice. "So uh...does this mean you ain't mad anymore?"
Damas scoffed wetly. "No, I'm furious. But I'm so relieved that you're both safe."
He arched an eyebrow, though the stern look was softened somewhat by the tears in his eyes. "But. As the oldest, you should know better than to sneak out like that. You're as grounded as Jak is."
"Grounded?!" Daxter sputtered.
"So grounded." Damas nodded. "You two aren't- aren't getting this gate pass back for weeks."
Jak wanted to protest, to tell him all the responsibilities on his shoulders that required him to be able to go back and forth between cities. But he couldn't catch his breath long enough to form even a syllable.
He had a father. They had a father. Parents. That wanted them! All of them! But he didn't deserve it! Especially not now, after deserting the way he had!
"M- m- Mar?" he finally managed to force out.
Damas shushed him again and clicked his tongue. "He's alright. He's with your mother."
Your mother.
"I'm- I'm not...him, the right him-" Jak tried to warn Damas -- he ought to have known, he'd seen what Jak was like-
Damas’s arms trembled against his back.
"No. I don't want you to be your brother. Be you. Be my reckless, impudent, war-sage son, as you are." He gave a choked sob, wrapped partway around a chuckle, and added, "Though perhaps- perhaps so that I can sleep at night, a bit less reckless?"
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lucyvaleheart · 1 month
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.
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yeonban · 13 days
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Sometimes I think about posting the one meme which goes "I want to ____ you" and see what your muses fill it in with for my muses but knowing my muses, I can already foresee an army of "kick" "beat" and "kill" <- in that order
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theolivefox · 3 months
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I HAVE RESIGNED
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machiavellli · 3 months
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I’ll let democracy decide for me:
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grasslandgirl · 5 months
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two days til figgorgugaversary. everyone manifest me finishing this fic between then and now 🙏
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arachnidiots · 1 month
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big day for liam kaz enjoyers !!!!!!
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