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rhobi · 3 months

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The Audi

Homeplanet: Aodilea (Frontier) Habitat: Temperate Coastal Lifespan: ??? Diet: Mesocarnivore (50-70% meat consumption)

Evolving from ancient oceanic odontocetes off the northwestern coastline of the Frontier supercontinent, the Audi are gentle giants and reknowned for their pride, curiosity, and hospitality. Audi have exceptional hearing and tactile awareness to offset their incredibly poor eyesight that gets worse the older (and larger) they get. They also sport a handsome melon to assist in their own form of echolocation, a frequency too low for the human ear to parse. Species with more delicate hearing have often complained of Audi cities being the one of the most audibly overstimulating experiences due to this rumble being incessantly present.

Audi lack any form of dymorphism, as every individual has the capabilities to become pregnant and induce pregnancy.

More about the Audi life cycle under the cut.

The Audi are (assumedly) the longest-living species of sentient lifeforms in the Laurelai Galaxy. It is difficult to pinpoint age in any Audi due to their complete lack of any calendar system; Audi view time as constantly moving forward instead of cyclically repeating, and age records were never anything of value.

Because of their lack of birth dates, Audi categorize their lives into phases. Their first official phase is childhood, with their lack of an 'infant' category caused by the species having two fetal incubation periods: the first organic and the second synthetic. Audi give birth incredibly prematurely due to their narrow pelvic gap, and, to prevent damage and even death to the parent, birth is induced within a two-to-three month time period. Full fetal growth is achieved at ten to eleven months, with the second incubation period done with the asisstance of advanced medical technology that simulates a natural womb. Due to this technology, Audi's infant mortality rate went from 80% down to 25% with three out of four Audi infants reaching childhood.

The second phase is adulthood. What criteria needs to be met for this phase is up to speculation, as Audi seem keen on keeping that information private. What can be assumed is that it's personal for every Audi, and every Audi reaches adulthood at different times. Height ranges anywhere from 6'8" (203cm) to 9'11" (302cm) on average, with older individuals being on the taller end due to Audi constantly (albeit slowly) growing their entire lives.

The final phase is She, a coveted example of Audi excellence and potential. Reaching the phase of She takes an impossible amount of time and physical growth. Every She, of which there are currently six, has a leadership role, ranging from cultural preservation and the arts to science and engineering, with each She taking a 'mastery' of one of these core values of Audi society. An interesting note is that every She is referred to as 'She', making it difficult for outsiders to deduce which of the six She is being referenced. She cap out the Audi height range at an even 10' (304cm), though why this is considered maximum height or how they suppress growth past this point is still being studied.

#art #speculative biology #laurelai audi #<-a tag to use for every species that exists in this galaxy i've made #they do have clothes of some sort this is just the barbie doll version #and every vague thing in this writing is on purpose i promise there's a reason for all of it

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radioactivepeasant · 9 days

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Free Day Friday: untitled Jak oneshot/ Daxter Snaps And It Doesn't Go Well

(This takes place right after Jak finally gets to return to Spargus in Jak 3, because I had some Feelings about the Dark Eco Oracle and its well-loved shrine having been either moved or destroyed in Haven. Also for reference: since the original Jak concept art was a cat/foxlike alien child, hence the ears being set so high on his head in TPL, I'm hereby deciding that their species can purr. Because I said so.)

This is Quite Long, so I'll probably crosspost to AO3 later.

TW: panic attack

Jak hadn't been surprised by the summons when he'd returned from Haven. He knew he was in for it. Damas had started trusting him with more and more responsibilities and then Jak had screwed it all up. Running off to Haven and then getting stuck there immediately after? Not a good look.

Honestly, Jak was just grateful he wasn't being "escorted" up by city guards.

Part of him wanted to go in fighting. That's all Damas cares about, right? a small, bitter corner of his heart muttered.

The rest of him was too afraid. He finally knew better than to look to anyone in Haven for affirmation or examples. Damas had been the closest he'd ever come to an authority figure he trusted. What if he lost that, too?

The second his and Daxter's heads were visible in the elevator shaft, Damas was already raising his voice. Perhaps he was simply projecting his voice to reach them, but Jak's stomach twisted into knots regardless, and his breathing became quick and shallow.

"Where have you been?" Damas demanded, rising from his throne. "It's been a month!"

The elevator locked, and Jak crept out onto the pathway like a skittish animal. He didn't meet Damas’s eyes. The confused anger and hurt he'd seen in them the last time flashed in his memory, and he winced. An oppressive silence fell for a few unnaturally long seconds, punctuated by the creak of the water wheel. Damas was waiting for an answer.

It's not our fault, Jak tried to reassure himself, Just another betrayal. We didn't do anything wrong.

When he didn't answer Damas, the king’s expression twisted between outrage and disbelief and-

And disappointment.

"Nothing? Really, Jak?" He took one step down from the dais, clenching his fist at his side. "Why didn't you tell anyone where you were going?"

Daxter took it upon himself to answer when Jak wouldn't -- or couldn't.

"Oh lay off!" he hissed, puffing himself up to look bigger, "Don't you have friends to kill in your gladiator ring?"

"Dax!" Jak gasped. Too late.

The words were already out and a black look fell across Damas’s face. His entire posture went rigid.

"Excuse me?" he asked in a frightful facsimile of calm.

"Daxter, don't," Jak pleaded, but it was far too late for that. When Daxter got this mad, he didn't even hear Jak.

"You heard me!"

Daxter leapt off Jak's shoulder and stood on the first stepping stone as if blocking the way between them.

"You tried to make us kill one of our only real friends, and threw a tantrum when we wouldn't! And if you think I'd trust you with Jak's location after that, those spikes must be diggin' into your brain!"

Jak couldn't breathe.

Either Damas was going to cut them off, or Daxter was going to get hurt, and either way everything was going to crumble. He'd finally escaped Haven and there was going to be nothing to escape to.

His core pulsed, obeying signals he didn't even know his brain was sending. It tried to respond to the fight-or-flight instincts quickening his pulse and shortening his breath. In Haven, he would have gone Dark in response. But he'd used all the dark eco. There was nothing left. Nothing but adrenaline and panic.

A strange, almost echoing sensation pushed at the inside of his skull, and the room spun. He couldn't breathe. His lungs felt like they'd been fused shut. He couldn't breathe!

"Jak!"

Between blurs of brown and green, Damas -- or an unfocused and staticy version of him -- approached rapidly.

As if from another room, Jak heard Daxter snarl, "Stay back! If you hurt him, I'll rip your spikes out!"

"I wouldn't hurt him!"

"You already did!"

It was too much. He couldn't- he couldn't focus. He couldn't find the light eco. Jak's knees gave, and it was a struggle to stay upright. Hands caught his upper arms, preventing him from collapsing entirely.

"Breathe, Jak!"

Damas sounded worried this time.

"You have to breathe!"

"Can't-!" Jak gasped, breath squeaking.

Then the world turned sideways and he was in the water. Or partly in the water.

His legs twitched with the shock of the new sensation, surprising him enough to suck in a deep breath. A compressing sensation against his chest and arms tightened in response.

"Focus on the water. Find your feet."

It took four tries to get his boots on the rocky bottom of the pool. His chest hurt, but he managed another deep breath.

"That's it. You can do this."

A small hand took his, pulling against the pressure around his shoulders, and pressed it against a narrow chest.

"L- like we practiced, bud-"

Oh. There's Daxter.

"Just breathe when I breathe, remember?"

Distantly, he heard Damas ask Daxter, "Has this happened before? In- in Spargus, I mean."

"Don't think about it, warrior," the other voice encouraged -- Damas? Is that Damas? But he's mad at us! -- "Just do as your friend does."

"If Jak wants to tell ya, he'll tell ya," Daxter said sourly. "You and I are not on speaking terms right now."

"...that is understandable."

One by one, his muscles relaxed. His breathing was much too fast, but it was easier to get full breaths at least.

When the ringing in Jak’s ears at last began to subside, he picked up a new sound. It was faint, barely audible at all, but he could just make out a nervous rumble. A laryngeal vibration he could feel through the back of his shirt. With conscious thought on standby mode, Jak's body responded to long-forgotten cues unbidden. His glottis rapidly dilated and constricted with his breathing, creating its own vibrations in a bid to self-soothe. It was how he'd learned not to cry out loud as a young child -- although blessedly, he would never remember that.

It wasn't the first time Damas had walked one of his people through a panic attack in the throne room, and it wouldn't be the last. But this one hurt.

"You're safe. There is no danger here. This is a safe place."

Shame raked its claws down his chest and Pain reached through the incision, grasping at organs and prying bones out of the way.

Jak didn't trust him.

And it was his fault.

"I'm sorry," he whispered- to Jak, to Daxter, to either-

A memory loomed damningly before his eyes. Mar had just started walking, and nearly toppled into the pools. Damas had yelled at him to get away from the edge, and the baby had burst into a loud, terrified wail.

"I'm- was it the shouting? I-"

"I'm sorry, it's okay, it's okay now- I know, I used the Big Voice, Daddy's sorry! You scared me, Bug!"

He hadn't gotten any better after losing Mar, had he? He still shouted when he was afraid. And look how that had turned out.

Damas tightened his hold on Jak and rested his chin on the crown of the boy's head. The apologies were bitter on his tongue, but necessary.

"I...I triggered this, didn't I? I'm sorry- gods, I'm sorry, Jak. I'm- you scared me. I couldn't find you! No one could!"

"You...thought we defected?" he asked through numbed lips.

The panic was slow to fade, still muddling Jak's mind. He couldn't quite make sense of what he was hearing.

"I thought the Marauders had taken you! Or you'd collapsed somewhere in the Wastes where we couldn't find you!" Damas answered. The dregs of that old fear still stained the edges of his voice. He shuddered.

He swallowed hard, interrupting the agitated purring for a moment. "I...did not handle the...situation as I should have. I damaged your trust. And I deserved worse than the silent treatment. I understand that. But to keep it from Sig, too?"

"You can't just run away like that! I- I understand why you didn't tell me-"

Painfully slowly, Jak drew his legs back out of the water and onto the rocks.

"They wouldn't let me," he mumbled. "They didn't let us leave."

Damas shot a concerned look at Daxter, who shrugged and looked away.

Shifting his grip to have one arm around the boy's waist, Damas heaved himself to his feet, taking Jak with him.

This promised to be a very unpleasant conversation, the least he could do was find them somewhere more comfortable to sit.

They were silent for a time, each processing the whirlwind of events. Jak was deeply, thoroughly, confused. No one had ever apologized like that before. Acknowledging his pain and the specific way their actions had caused it? It would be a cold day in hell before Samos ever did anything like that.

He didn't understand.

They'd defied Damas, then run from him. Daxter had just challenged him to his face.

Yet he spoke like a man anxiously awaiting the return of a prodigal son.

"Who wouldn't let you leave, Jak?" Damas asked him, far too gently.

Jak shut his eyes. "Haven."

"Haven?!" Damas sounded horrified. "What were you doing there?! Is that where you've been this whole time?"

Miserably, Jak nodded. "I was just- we were just scouting. Just- it wasn't supposed to be-"

He gritted his teeth.

"They locked down the air trains," he croaked. "And- and there's force fields blocking off the city exits. The only way they'd let us go was if I fought on the frontlines for three weeks first."

Fighting down his anger lest he trigger Jak's panic again, Damas forced himself to ask, "What made you go back to that city in the first place?"

A hostage. His boy- The boy had been a bloody hostage, and he'd had no idea! Damas felt something dark and dense fluttering between his ribs. If he found the person who ordered this, he would drown them in the sands.

Jak winced and passed several looks back and forth with Daxter.

"Ashelin...called me to the oasis," he said at last.

Damas stiffened beside him.

"She want- she wanted me to come back to Haven. After everything they did to me, she wanted me to come back."

He felt the hints of the anxiety returning, and wrapped his arms around himself for comfort.

"Ashelin Praxis?" Damas demanded. He curled his lip. "I might have known. I hope you told her where to shove that offer."

Daxter scoffed. "Oh, he did. Even told her "I have new friends now", which was a little too generous considering what you said to my pal."

Jak gave the ottsel a weary look, and Daxter grudgingly subsided.

"I told her to leave. She- she wouldn't drop it. Said the friends we still had were going to die. That it was my responsibility because of-"

He flipped a hand in the air in frustration.

"I don't know! Dead people I share some common blood with!"

"Pal, I'm pretty sure that common blood stopped bein' responsible for that dump when Princess Scribbleface's darling pappy took over," Daxter grumbled.

"Common blood?!" Damas startled, but Jak had already moved on, hastily trying to explain himself.

"We didn't believe her -- I- I mean, why would we? But when I asked the Oracle in the temple-"

"How did you find the Oracle?!" Damas spluttered.

"The stupid thing called me," Jak growled. He leaned forward and pressed his face into his hands. "Said the whole planet was in danger and my friends would die if I didn't find the catacombs."

He muffled a snarl in his palms.

"I hate them. I hate those rottin' things. They don't tell me when something is a trap. They only tell me what fits their agenda."

Jak could speak to Precursor Oracles.

Only monks were supposed to still be able to do that.

Monks, or Heirs of Mar taking the Trials.

"And...was it a trap?" Damas asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

A painful, wishful image of Jak in the Tomb of Mar wormed through Damas’s thoughts. If life had any semblance of fairness, or restitution, it would have been reality. It was not what he deserved, not after how many times he'd failed the people he cared about. But Jak deserved it. He'd been isolated enough.

Jak's face was like stone.

"All they cared about was getting me into Haven to find the catacombs before that nutcase Veger could. And all Haven cared about was keeping us there."

A deep, ominous creaking filled the room. Harsh shadows stretched and yawned as the terrible old statue beside the dais flickered, then lit up. A suffocating sense of dread filled Damas as he beheld the monolith. It wasn't a real Oracle. It was a shell, made to hold pieces of the water wheel. It wasn't made to have any kind of lights.

Daxter yelped and scurried up to Jak’s shoulder as the water wheel ground to a halt.

The silence was unnatural.

Jak's chest heaved, and Damas feared for a moment that he was going to panic again. But an answering light flickered in the boy's eyes. White, incandescent rage.

"What do you want now? You're not welcome here!" Jak snarled, standing up with a jerk.

"Angry one-"

It said in warning, a rolling, ancient voice that echoed off the stones and twisted in their eardrums.

Jak clenched his fists.

"No! I'm not afraid of you! You're no "holier" than Onin. You aren't even a Precursor!"

A sense of fury shook the room, and the water trembled.

Jak held his ground though his legs shook.

"You can't do anything to punish me," he challenged, angry tears glowing in his eyes. "The worst you can do is withhold information that would protect me, and you do that anyway! If- if you had power at all, you wouldn't have let Veger destroy Crius!"

Crius? Damas vaguely remembered that name. Hadn't he been one of the Bonekeeper's heralds? The memories were fuzzy at best. Father forbade Mother from speaking of the Bonekeeper when they married. Any communing with the patron of dark eco was done in secret, and as a child Damas had only caught her once.

"The dark shrine was all those people had!" the anger was slipping away from Jak now, replaced by something closer to grief. "He gave them hope! He gave- he gave me hope! And you couldn't save him. So what makes you think you can scare me now? Hu'mens are worse than you."

And the Oracle, miraculously, quieted. The waters stilled, and some of the dread receded. Jak fell back to the steps, having exhausted the last reserves of his emotions.

"Yeah! You tell him, Jak!" Daxter cheered, breaking the silence, "About time you put Sparky in his place!"

He ruffled Jak's hair -- the hair he could reach at least -- and leaned against his arm comfortingly.

"Next, we get Loghead!"

The Oracle remained lit, but speechless. All this time, had rebuking the heralds really been an option? Ever the pragmatist, Damas decided to follow Jak's example.

"As the boy said." His voice was quiet at first, but gained courage with each new word.

"This is not a place of seers and soothsayers. Respectfully: we do not require your guidance at this time."

"Heir of Mar-"

the Oracle began, almost wheedling.

Rage loosened his lips and he lost the last shred of reverence he'd held for the messenger.

Jak went rigid and Damas felt an anger of his own. How dare this entity try to leverage his bloodline when the Precursors had turned their backs on him!

"Hold your tongue! Unless you can comprehend the trouble you have caused, keep your counsel to yourself."

Resentfully, the Oracle's eyes flashed.

And with that, the lights were gone. The water wheel resumed its gloomy rhythm. The statue was hollow once more.

"So be it. You wish to hear no truth from me? Then you, Damas of the Wastes, shall hear no truth from me."

Something about the acquiescence -- or threat -- made Damas uneasy. Withholding information again, just as Jak had said. But he had the feeling it was hinting at something important. Taunting him.

Bloody seven hells.

He'd sooner cast the bones himself and call upon the Dark Lady directly as his mother once had than ever deal with that thing again.

"Little wonder you're always so on edge, dealing with that," he said; a poor attempt at a joke.

Jak dropped his face back into his hands.

"I'm so sick of them. Jak do this. Jak go there. Suffer for us, Jak! It's Fate!"

Damas scoffed. "Fate, eh? Wastelanders make their own fate. If this is who my monks consult, it's no surprise that they believe the world is coming to an end."

"They are pretty worried about the creatures in that space ship," Jak admitted reluctantly.

"Bah."

Damas waved it off.

"When the metalheads invaded our world, we survived with or without the Precursors they hunted. We will do the same if these creatures land."

He jostled Jak's shoulder -- shaking Daxter by proxy.

"Ey! No manhandling!"

Daxter slithered away down the steps and into the water. He glared up over the step like a little croc.

"You keep your emotionally constipated hands away from me!"

Damas let out a startled laugh, and Jak shook his head and grinned.

"I...guess you're right. Spargus is pretty tough."

"We are Wastelanders, boy," Damas declared, "We carved out a home in the places where nothing else survives. We'll carve out our fate the same way, with the same tools our ancestors used."

"...with eco," Jak said quietly, as if experiencing a revelation.

"Our minds think alike."

Damas’s wry grin faded.

"Jak...I'm...sorry. That I made you feel you couldn't contact me for help. If I had known you were being held in Haven against your will, I would have come for you."

The boy fixed him with a bewildered expression.

"You would have?" Jak asked, "You're serious. You. Leaving your people to come after me?"

The king met his stare evenly.

"Yes."

"After the- the thing, with the Arena-?"

Damas winced and looked away.

"I. I did not warn you, I was not permitted to. But the final trial of a Spargan is one they are supposed to lose."

Jak bristled. "What?!"

"It's a test of whether they can put loyalty to their city over the commands of a tyrant. Sig wasn't supposed to throw down his gun, he was supposed to goad you into a sparring match." Damas ran his hand over his shaved head. "I should have told him before he went in that it was you. I didn't know that you knew each other, but- maybe he wouldn't have panicked if he'd known it was a Final Trial. Maybe I wouldn't have panicked."

Jak stared at him in disbelief for several seconds. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, he blurted out an accusation with no bite to it.

"What, did you forget I didn't grow up here?"

When he was met with chagrined silence, his eyes widened.

"Oh my gods you did. How?! You're the one that found me out there!"

Clearly embarrassed, Damas shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what to tell you. There are days when it just...seems as though I have known you for much longer than seven months."

Jak took that statement, turned it over in his mind. The version of Damas in his head wasn't quite matching the one in front of him. Even before things had become strained between them, he hadn't had the context to understand the way Damas saw him. He still didn't- not completely.

"Sorry," he said suddenly, and gestured to the soaked trousers. "I um. I don't usually...not in front of people, I mean-"

He leaned back against the stairs and stretched his legs out before him. The linen stuck to his legs in sodden wrinkles and folds, nearly transparent against his calves. It would dry quickly once he stepped outside again -- and the evaporating water would serve to cool his skin nicely. But for now, it drew his mind to his panic attack.

"Don't apologize." Damas laced his fingers together loosely and leaned his elbows against his knees. "May...may I ask what it was that sparked that kind of fear?"

Jak met Daxter's eyes, down in the water. The ottsel winced. He knew he'd taken it too far. He was just so sick of people acting like Jak was a trained dog with no autonomy of his own. And sometimes his desire to protect Jak’s emotions didn't mesh completely with what Jak needed at the moment.

Jak broke their gaze and began to pick at a scar on his elbow.

"...thought I was going to have to choose sides. Between you and Dax."

"Why would supporting Daxter cause you to panic?" Damas pressed.

"Because," he muttered with a shrug.

He'd assumed without question that Jak would take Daxter's side. Jak didn't know whether to be amused or grateful or just tired.

"Because?"

"Because I- I wanted this to still be home." Jak made a vague gesture encompassing the room, and its occupants.

"This is your home," Damas insisted. He glanced to the empty Oracle with a thoughtful frown.

Something lingered in the corners of Jak's eyes. A concern he wasn't voicing. Did he still believe he could be so easily forsaken?

"If this is where the desert brought you, then this is where the desert meant you to thrive."

But then, he had been cast out of Haven on the flimsiest of pretenses. His faith in hu'menity was shaken. For a moment, Damas considered changing the subject. He could talk about the coming trials, give Jak something else to think about.

Or he could meet him on his level. Show him the same vulnerability he'd so unwillingly displayed.

The words stuck to his tongue, stabbed like needles into the roof of his mouth as he forced them through his teeth.

"I...had a son. Some years ago."

"Had". Was there ever such a horrible word?

"He was like you -- or, he would have been, when he was older."

Under his breath he added, "if he ever got the chance to get older."

Jak's brows knit together, then went slack. From tiny pinpricks in the centers of his eyes, horror flooded out to the rest of his face.

"You have a child?"

After a moment to collect himself, the king nodded.

His head dipped lower, nearly brushing the steeple of his fingertips.

"I did. He was taken from me, by some of the same people who seem to have orchestrated your own suffering."

"I pray that my son still lives but- he was so young. So small. So-"

Damas’s voice cracked.

"So very small."

Guilt played across Jak's face for a moment, then was swallowed up by a deep sadness that welled up from within. Haven was a city of devils. He wondered if Damas’s child had been taken during the time when Praxis was snatching children en masse in his search for Jak's childhood self.

Did that make it his fault that Damas was so bereaved?

"That's-"

That's not fair. It's an abomination. Hurting a kid should be enough to make the Precursors strike you dead on the spot. Errol should've died the first time he put me in the Chair-

Jak's thoughts spiraled out of control, and he had to fight to return his focus to the moment.

"That's terrible."

Inhaling sharply, Damas raised his head and straightened his spine. One warm, callused hand found its way to Jak’s shoulder and squeezed.

He felt his throat closing up, snapping his voice into grating pieces.

"The reason I tell you this is so that you will understand this: It would take more than a little teenaged defiance to make me turn my back on you."

"I lost my son, Jak," he croaked, "I cannot lose you, too."

The laryngeal vibration began again -- from Jak, this time. The nearly autonomous response was as much a subconscious desire to comfort Damas as it was self-soothing. Even so, his chest ached dully. How old, he wondered, had Damas’s son been when he was taken? He must have been so scared! Did he call out for his father? Did Damas call out for him?

"In...war," Damas said hesitantly, "Sacrifices are sometimes required of us. In my case, I had to stay and rebuild the part of the wall the attackers destroyed. To protect thousands from the storms and the Marauders. I knew that, but it still took days for Sig to convince me to send him to Haven in my place."

"Yeah," Jak muttered, "I know about sacrfices."

But Damas shook his head. "It's hardly a sacrifice if someone else chose it for you out of convenience. That's just betrayal."

Silence fell again, but there was no tension to it. A sense of introspection lingered between them, each consumed with his own thoughts. Even Daxter's anger had muted itself -- now overlayed with guilt, berating himself for jumping to fight Jak's battles without bothering to see what Jak himself wanted.

The moment of quiet ended with a crackling of the city radio from which Damas monitored all official channels.

"Oh not now," the man groaned with a most unkingly attitude. "Can I have a moment of peace?"

"No way," Jak scoffed, finding a glimmer of humor in the situation, "You jinxed it by letting us take a break. Now something crazy is going to happen."

Damas narrowed his eyes. "Boy, if you will that into reality-" he warned, with no real way to finish the threat.

The second he picked up the receiver, he knew it was going to be a headache.

"Sire! We've got three different Marauder patrols converging on the city gates! There's a fourth on the radar crossing the river now!"

Daxter pulled himself out of the water and cringed. "How many cars is that?"

"Twelve, at least," Jak gulped.

Damas did not take this information the way he normally would have. He seemed to be fuming as he stood up and stomped up the stairs to retrieve his staff. Jak could hear him muttering under his breath.

His voice rose to something more audible. "I'm not in the mood for this, Egil," he snapped, addressing the thane of the Marauders as if he were present.

"Not the time, Egil, this is not the time to test me! Just got my kid back, got threatened by a bloody Oracle-"

Jak decided, for the sake of being able to focus during a fight, to just pretend he hadn't heard Damas referring to him as his own kid. He could come back to that and freak out later. Right now, there was a fight to be had. He held an arm down for Daxter to use as a ramp, then stood.

"Where do you need me?" he asked.

Damas gave him a searching look. For an instant, his gaze flicked to the lifeless Oracle. That seemed to reinforce his resolve.

"With me," he said shortly. "We're taking the Dozer. You're on the turret gun."

The way Jak's -- and even Daxter's -- eyes lit up almost made up for the hassle Damas knew this skirmish was going to be. He cast one last look at the Oracle before shepherding them to the lift.

Keep your counsel, he thought, and I will keep mine. I don't need your permission to add a son to my House. What of that, eh? The Heir and your renegade Pawn allied against you!

"Hey, maybe I should drive," Jak suggested as the lift began to move."

"Hm." Damas pretended to consider it. "No."

"Why not?!"

"You can't reach the pedals yet."

He could have simply explained that he preferred to drive his favorite vehicle himself. But, the slightest bit giddy at the thought of open rebellion against fate, Damas instead bent slightly to offer a teasing grin.

"What?! Oh come on!"

The elevator sank out of sight, and the water wheel trembled. The statue vibrated and the pools bubbled and boiled with the helpless fury of a falconer whose birds had long since slipped the jesses to fly free. But the boy had not spoken falsley: it was not a Precursor, merely the echo of one's memory. In the face of hu'men defiance, it was helpless to retaliate in any meaningful way. Even withholding the truth of the Hero's identity had been robbed of its intended effect, considering the Fallen Heir and the Hero had gone ahead and reformed the broken bond between them anyway!

The Oracle could not comprehend their motives, nor could it ever hope to understand the complexities of the hu'men mind.

It could only watch and seethe.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #free day friday #jak and daxter #dadmas #king damas #jak and daxter au #headcanon that the final arena battle is a Kobayashi Maru and Jak pulled a Kirk #i named the Dark Oracle after one of the mythological Titans #sneaky reference to sparguscituangel canon where Mictecacíhuatl is the patron of dark eco #tw panic attack #daxter was fully ready to End Damas right there 😂#Jak's species can purr now because the concept art started out vaguely feline #eldritch abomination oracle time!#except instead of humans being unable to comprehend the lovecraftian monster #its the lovecraftian monster that is wholly incapable of understanding humans without succumbing to madness #long post #oneshot

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p2ep · 5 months

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one of my fav things about medieval manuscripts is many of the illustrations of birds are recognizable as real bird species. i can go birding in here

my man the european goldfinch!!!!!!!

short-eared owl?

magpie!

sparrowhawk !

like idk. i get mad at posts making fun of medieval art because 100% of the time it's a drawing that is deeply steeped in iconography and its own visual language that is difficult to interpret if you don't know the symbols and what they mean. and i feel like wider pop-culture does not ever think about the fact that these people were illustrating the world as they saw it !!!

#krestel speaks #fuckk i wanna take a class in this stuff its fascinating #i guess this bird specific post is also because SO MUCH media has generic birds that are formless blobs with vague features #rather than depicting a specific species. and it makes me maddd #so im always so so impressed whenever something DOES have real species

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sable-dream · 1 month

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there's something so alienating about seeing advice posts and knowing that they're intended towards you yet you can't do any of the stuff in them.

Can't play a sable video game because they don't exist. Can't watch a sable documentary because they don't exist. Can't find my natural habitat because my local national forest is uncomfortable and it also doesn't snow here. Can barely even study my theriotype's behavior/vocals because the only clips we have of them are scattered and distant and aren't even in the wild, just how they behave in captivity.

Can't even relate to my own community because I don't fit either of the two most common theriotypes on the planet.

#this isn't vaguing I'm just. upset #therian #therianthropy #species dysphoria #chattering

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yuckydraws · 5 months

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Requests are open I see 👁👁

May I get some head cannons about bear and red with a monster S/O? (Whatever species) I see a lot of human related fics for them, thought it would be cute 🤭

No pressure to answer of course, all is well ❤

Yes they are :}

So, the most differences there would be with them having a monster partner rather than a human one, is that there is lots of cultural differences with a human partner. Given that these guys are also in the UT universe and not technically supposed to be, their monster partner would also catch on really quickly that these guys aren't from this universe.

Now on to specifics!

Red:

It may take you a bit to realize something is off with Red. At first he just seems like a charming, sometimes abrasive, guy who's had a few rough fights that left him with scars. Fighting isn't unheard of in the underground. Odd, but nothing to raise suspicion. What does set off alarm bells is what you see when you pull him into an encounter for the first time. He has... a lot of LV. High LV is common in older monsters, boss monsters involved in the human-monster war, but Red isn't that old. So just where did he get all of that? He's got some explaining to do. Safe to say you'd have a bit of a rocky start in the relationship given the secrecy and the shock of the existence of the multiverse. Not only that, but coming to terms with what Red's done.

Some general headcannons with a monster partner:

He'd be a lot more comfortable reaching out for support or admitting when he's not doing well, because he doesn't have to say it. He can just pull you in for a hug, letting his magic call out to you. You being able to feel that and understand it, helps him so much with being vulnerable and genuinely trusting you (which is huge for him).

Boss will take to you a lot quicker than he would if his brother had a human mate. It's just easier to trust someone who's intentions you can feel. Not to say you'll be best buds right away, but he'll be a bit more welcoming.

Magical prank wars. Do I need to say more? Boss is going to be so sick of you two.

Your magic is an extension of your being, so at some point he's going to poke you to learn every little trick you can do.

Casual syncing of your magic use, like a well choreographed dance.

He'll sleep much better with you around... his magic being soothed by the presence of yours whenever those usual nightmares interrupt his sleep.

You'll catch him scent marking you quite often. He's a pretty protective (and a lil possessive) guy. He'll be so smug and happy if you do it back to him just as often.

He may be even more hesitant to share his beat up soul to you... but if you're patient and understanding, he'll get comfortable with that kind of intimacy soon.

Bear:

... You'd know pretty much immediately that something is off about him. Unless a cave in or a human gave him that injury, you just can't see anyone doing that. Then there's the obvious trauma around food. No one went hungry underground, monsters take care of their community. And the obvious unhealthy state of his magic... the way it stutters and hesitates. Something isn't right. But, unlike Red, Bear wouldn't enter a romantic relationship without them knowing his past. If you're going to have him, you'll have to accept all of him, even the parts his despises. He'll tell you all of it, without excuses or sugarcoating, because you'd find out eventually anyways - it might as well come from him. So, you'll have the time to process both his past, and the existence of the multiverse before you even decide to enter the relationship.

Some general headcannons with a monster partner:

He uses his magic sparingly, for obvious reasons. But that means he doesn't really share his magic often - which is something that's usually integral to a monster-monster relationship. It's also something that truly embarrasses him. He'll struggle a lot with the fact that he can't do what he used to be able to.

You may have a little bit of a shock when you learn that his underground was exactly the same as yours before the famine. Sort of puts things into perspective on just how quickly everything can change.

While he can't use his magic as much as he used to, he does push his intent through his magic quite often. With his speech issues, it helps him communicate a lot quicker and you'll seldom be wondering how he's feeling because he'll tell you, just in his own way.

He's a big guy, which is something he doesn't exactly love, but seeing as monsters come in all shapes and sizes, he'll feel much more comfortable in his own body with you.

He'll scent mark you somewhat often without even really realizing it... and he'd love it if you did it back to him.

He's got a lot of issues with intimacy, for a lot of reasons, but one of those being his unreliable magic. He'll try to hide it for as long as possible, especially around you and your unhindered magic use... but with some patience he'll open up about his anxieties.

#not sure if this was the kind of writing you were looking for but hopefully this is okay #i also didn't choose the species of monster to keep it vague but if you have a specific type to ask about i can try my best to answer #monsteroonio #yucky answers #yucky writes #yucky yaks #headcannons #undertale #underfell #uf sans #red #horrortale #ht sans #bear

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mineral-vulture · 2 years

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Along with Dante I finally made a proper ref of Marty! It has been a long time since I drew this odd little puppet. He was the star of his show, Marty's Neighborhood, where he would do his day to day life and meeting the various residents of said Neighborhood. In each episode there would be some type of lesson to learn. Marty would be depicted as polite, friendly, and soft spoken. The show ran from the 1970s to 2002. In 2005 the creator of Marty passed away and after his passing his house was turned into a museum that displays his creations which includes Marty. Though some time after the creation of the museum security guards and even the wife of the late creator would notice that at night or when they come by in the morning that the puppets would not be at the places they should be.

#Mineral Vulture Art #Traditional Art #Pierce's characters #Original character #Marty #puppet #anthro #living puppet #haunted puppet #vague species #rodent #mouse #dog #canine #ref sheet #Pierce draws

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kittychicha · 6 months

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literally no one asked but if anyone wants to start watching lakorns but doesn't know where to start here's a reclist:

first here's some "light" shows to get you started:

voice in the rain: a fashion designer and a model who can hear each other's thoughts whenever it's raining

love forever after: a dying girl makes a deal with her grim reaper in order not to be escorted into the afterlife

to the moon and back: a very free spirited artist type girl gets involved with a doctor who leads a very strict life and gets him to open up his heart <3

return man: after getting dumped by her boyfriend a girl hires a company that can retrieve lost or stolen items in order to get her cat back and get revenge

leveling up a bit on the lakorn scale:

dare to love: ticha is fighting to be chosen as a partner for her law firm, but her new intern is distracting her by trying to win her heart

love pharmacy: a famous superstar makes an emergency stop at a pharmacy to poop and looses her designer shoes. she has a week to get them back or pay the brand who loaned them.

switch on: a remake of the korean drama w: two worlds

my lovely bodyguard: a stuntwoman gets hired to be a personal bodyguard to a rich guy in line to inherit a big company

now yes here's some lakorn so take it or leave it it's not gonna be unproblematic you gotta enjoy it for what it is:

revenge from the past: ping gets betrayed by her husband and sister, who are having an affair and frame her of murder to get all her money. she decides to come back makeover style and ruin their lives

wiwa fah laep: lalin hires her one night stand to be her pretend husband so she can be eligible to inherit her father's company

love destiny: kade is an archaeologist who goes back in time 300 years ago to the same place she's doing her research on into the body of a woman who is her opposite

my life is to kill my love is for you: rin is a rich girl who falls for a hitman involved with her family

nee ruk nai krong fai: another girl falls for the guy that killed her family lol

lhong fai: karnkaew is a college girl who decides to work as an escort in order to get the life that she wants

#this is in my limited opinion #there's definitely more ppl here that watched more than i have but like heres my list as far as i have watched lol #and cause i never see anyone giving recs #cata.txt #thai drama #there's always like 4 ppl watching lakorn we need to start converting more ppl it's about survival of the species we're dying outtt 😂😂#i did leave a lot of thai dramas i like out bc i feel like lakorn is such a vague yet specific vibe if u know what i mean #recs

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marivenah · 6 months

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FLUFFTOBER - DAY 16

Singing one another to sleep - for Shireen

>> prompt list

Pairing: Shireen x Maul

Characters: Shireen Oqir, Maul, Konag Oqir

Words: 1k

This prompt was supposed to be written for a different ship but this little scenario came to me like two days ago and I just had to write it down.

-----

Another day has passed and yet again Shireen craves nothing more than to rest. It hurts her not being able to bring her children to bed and say goodnight but by now every one of them has been asleep for hours and she doesn’t want to risk waking them again.

The thought of spending a calm night with Maul soothes her, though.

When she enters their bedroom, she frowns. Unlike expected, she finds it empty. Or perhaps she did expect it and only wished it wasn’t so. To her luck, she knows exactly where to find him.

So, Shireen turns on her heel and heads out to exit their chamber again.

Even now that he has freed himself from the ever-tightening grip of the Sith, Maul still manages to neglect himself. Life will never allow for him to rest.

She sighs as she steps through the door but stops in her tracks. Did she spot something in her periphery?

Her view wanders back, to the balcony of the room, where she spots Maul outside, shrouded by the darkness of the night.

It comes even more unexpectedly. She tilts her head, not knowing what to make of it. Is she already dreaming? She shakes her head to make sure that she is in fact awake. Then, silently closes the door before approaching the Zabrak.

As Shireen steps outside, the soft night breeze brushes her exposed skin. Not quite cold but nonetheless refreshing in this climate. Loose fabric of her nightgown dancing in the wind.

Maul doesn’t face her. All of his attention is directed at what is resting in his arms.

“He should be asleep by now”, she says quietly, “As should you.”

He sighs, barely audible but her sixth sense didn’t fail at picking it up regardless.

“I heard him cry. I didn’t want the girls to wake up, so I brought him here.”

On one hand, it breaks her heart seeing their boy struggle so much. Konag is such a happy baby. Just like his sister Hinah, only that she almost never cried. But life seems to want to put obstacles in his way at any given opportunity.

On the other, seeing Maul take care of the boy, doing everything he can to make Konag feel better makes her heart melt back together.

Everything the Zabrak suffered through as a child, and yet he chose to raise his own with so much patience and compassion.

…

Softness.

And kindness. One she has only ever witnessed from him when the two of them are alone.

The thought makes Shireen smile. She places a hand on Maul’s shoulder while looking over it.

“He isn’t crying anymore”, she notes.

“Yes, but unfortunately, he wasn’t able to fall asleep again”, he says.

The low tone of their voices is almost sending Shireen to sleep herself. But the worry for her son is keeping her awake. She rests her head on Maul’s shoulder, then reaches for little Konag, softly caressing his cheek with the back of her fingers. The tiny red boy smiles when he spots her. And it’s so incredibly infectious.

Shireen hums, “So, what do we do with you, little one?”

“It may not work the same as for the girls but perhaps you can still try to sing him to sleep with one of your lullabies.”

It doesn’t? “You want me to sing to him out loud? Do you remember what happens every time I do so?”

He scoffs, at least that’s what it sounds like. “Your singing has never affected me. Konag might not be of your species, but you are his mother. I doubt your singing would have negative effects on him.”

“That much is true, but not because of the reasons stated”, she says with a tired smile. “You noticed his horns started to grow. But have you noticed these?”

She points her fingers at the tiny dark spots right above his ears. Just like his horns, his antennae started to grow.

“While he may not be fully of my species, he does carry parts of it. Whatever features the male offspring of the queen inherits is different for each, but it’s never nothing. His eyes aren’t black, and he won’t have full organic armour, but what he did get are his antennae.”

She chuckles, “And...”

Konag yawns, exposing his very tiny very little fangs.

“Don’t think he got his fangs from you.”

“So, he is part of it?”, he asks calmly, referring to the network.

Her Zabrak will probably never learn everything about her species, but she appreciates that he still tries despite it sometimes sounding like a school lesson. He knows more than anyone else ever will. Enough to understand. And that is more than enough for her.

Shireen cups Maul’s face in her hand and nods. He leans into the touch. He is, as always, radiating with warmth and it results in her growing even more tired. So, she leads him back inside.

Once they’re all comfortable in the bed, Shireen takes Konag from Maul and cradles the baby in her arms.

“You might be a little too young to sing yet but you can listen.” She lifts him up into the air which incites a giggle from the boy before she pulls him close to her face to rub her nose on his tiny one.

Then, she lays down, into Maul’s arms and puts Konag between them.

Eventually, she closes her eyes, which have become heavy by now, and listens to the silence for a moment, that is only filled with soft breathing.

Once their breathing is seemingly synched, Shireen starts singing. One of the oldest lullabies she knows. It takes her a lot of strength to not fall asleep, too. The days have been exhausting. So, she values these little moments of peace even more.

Through the use of the force, Shireen can sense the boy slowly dozing off. And when the singing ends, the silence can not only be heard but felt.

“I think he heard it”, she whispers.

When she doesn’t get an answer, she opens her eyes again and finds Maul sound asleep as well. Seems like Konag wasn’t the only one listening.

Shireen smiles to herself. Something to remember for the future.

It doesn’t take long for her to give in. The heat radiating through her sending her off to sleep.

#oc: shireen oqir #txt.shireen #x: to your deepest low #mywriting*#mine.ft23 #ahh i enjoyed writing this way too much 🙈#i finished this so quickly #also i will never not use the opportunity to info dump about her species i'm sorry 🤡#no idea where exactly they are at this point in their lives so keeping it vague here sksks

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south-sea · 2 months

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tragic: your worst most terrible oc makes for a great mobian

#marlo (derogatory)#sonic oc #art by sea #no specific species but is something vaguely deer-like

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proton-wobbler · 7 months

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Pine Siskin (Spinus pinus)

Chadron State Park - Fall 2023

Pine Siskin feel like a stretched goldfinch to me. Like a lot of North American finches, they tend to be an irruptive species- a species that experiences rapid population booms and busts, and one that will readily move in search of food. Siskin breed in Canada, and as winter falls they move south to the States and Mexico to search for seeds to fuel their very mobile family groups. There are some populations that can live year round in one spot, but those tend to be mountainous regions that can sustain these seed eaters.

One of my favorite things about these birds is one of the noises they make when chatting to each other. There are typical chips of a finch, but there is also this crisp zzzziiiiiiiiiiip! sound they'll make that makes me so giddy. (the clip below also has some American Goldfinch flight calls - "po-tay-to chip! potato chip!")

All banding, marking, and sampling is being conducted under a federally authorized Bird Banding Permit issued by the U.S. Geological Survey's BBL.

#bird banding #pine siskin #without a doubt I'll hear 'vague finch sounds' and try to pin the species #and I'll be like 'oh I think those are siskin- ZZZZEEEET!- aww hell yea got it right its siskin!!'

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