I’m here to show you that I’m still working, aside from that, have a nice day

Fellas, I know I was down for so much time and I’m sorry I will be so for more time ‘cause I’m busy drawing for a project, but here is my first attempt in trying to get a more “sculpting” way of painting, I wanna get rid of that line art (～￣▽￣)～.

another

keep it up!

you are almost there

Jeez this post will be pretty long.

take this as just a little reminder that if you keep practicing you’ll keep improving, it’s a pretty trite phrase I know but I’m the proof, I mean, the difference is clear even after a single year, I know that someone just have to hear this message, and if you are that one, I’m with you!

From now on I will be working in various projects so I will take a pause in posting ,this is also due to the fact that my site fee is expiring and I can’t pay but don’t worry I will find a way to get money, I was thinking about art commissions, feel free to message me if interested.

Despite the last parenthesis the message remains the same, never give up and keep practicing

Sorry if I’m slow but I’m working on the background and it’s tough

Dagummit. I drew them Judging me again.

Jak 2, but in a somewhat Arcane art style.

This boy has not slept in two days someone please do something about him.

I want to draw characters using ASL more, but just like with any other language where I only know a handful of words, I’m paranoid that my own drawing abilities will cause mistranslations (but if I don’t practice, I’m never gonna learn, so there’s that)

Demolition Trio au: Jak came back in wounded after doing who knows what and Mar caught him.

(I know he’s actually saying “tattle”, not “tattletale”, sorry)

Things like this are probably why Kleiver keeps hinting that Damas will never let Jak leave Spargus at the beginning of Jak 3

Inspired by @rhinocio ’s “Funniest Timeline” post, but with the idea that the Jak 2 Crew inadvertently sent little Mar back to the moment that they’d left, meaning there’s no Gol and Maia to fight. Mar waits five years, lonely and bored, and then cons the Blue Sage into helping him start the Rift Gate again.

He lands in the middle of a Jak 3 scenario where Sig and Damas found out about the time travel. So now Jak is 17-18 ish and Mar is 10, the crocodog is bigger, and Daxter is about ready to pull his hair out over this kid’s antics.

I don’t know who first had the idea of crocodogs in Jak and Daxter getting big enough to ride into battle, but I’ve been playing enough Monster Hunter Stories for that to stick in my head immediately.

Bonus:

This Leaper Lizard looks like he’s planning something nefarious somehow. Also his cheek structure is now reminding me of a Snidely Whiplash mustache and I can’t unsee it.

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

Demolition Trio au: 1, 2,3, 4

“Lighthouse, be advised: if my hair goes prematurely gray, it’s gonna be because of this darn fool teenager.”

Sig hoisted himself up over a crate and ground his teeth together. “And when we get home, for the record, I recommend installing safety rails or baby gates on anything you don’t want the kids climbing up or hoverboarding off of. Because if Jakdoes it – and he will – Mar is gonna copy him.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Damas responded with goodnatured dismay, “But what has Jak done thistime?”

“Whathasn’the done?” Sig fumed. He ducked a spinning drill the size of his arm and dodged a saw blade that swung up out of the mining platform. “He hears about a metalhead nest at the strip mine and what’s his solution? Go monkey around on the shipping crates until he can loosen one enough to drop onto the egg cluster!”

“While he’s still standing on it?!” Damas sputtered.

“That’s it. That’s his plan. If I had any doubts about whose son he was before,” Sig said with a huff, “I don’t now.”

“Wellthat was a little uncalled-for,” the king grumbled, but noticeably he didn’t correct Sig.

He knew well and good that he had been a reckless teenager once.

It didn’t take long for reports like this to become a regular thing for Sig and Damas. Often, multiple reports came in on the same day, making Damas wonder if Jak ever slept.

“Lighthouse, do you have any qualms about sharing custody with a Lurker tribe? Because the boys just went and got themselves inducted in as honorary members.”

“Lighthouse, I am this close to slapping a Sage. The Baron’s got some kind of doomsday plot in mind, and instead of mobilizing the troops, the old fart just told Jak to handle it "no matter how”. I’ll be backup, of course, but would it kill these people to stop delegating all their missions to the kid?“

"Lighthouse, do not let this child near Kleiver and the garage until he’s done a driving test. I just watched him hijack a Hellcat and immediately drive it straight into a wall. He thought it was gonna handle like a zoomer. A zoomer!”

“Lighthouse, I can’t wait until you get to go on the range with Jak. You two are gonna have a blast fightin’ over that high score. He mightjust beat one of your top five records!”

The longer reports were usually full of descriptive retellings of events, or humorous complaints about Jak’s penchant for mayhem. Damas liked getting to know the boy in this round-about sort of way; it gave him something to talk about with him on his few visits thus far. The longer the report, the more questions he could think of for later.

By contrast, the one that utterly chilled Damas’s blood was short, and to the point.

“Lighthouse…have you ever heard of the Dark Warrior Project?”

The folders Sig smuggled to him during his next “vacation” were the work of a depraved mind. Damas had spent several sleepless nights learning the true depths of the suffering Praxis had inflicted on his son – his elderson, at least. Although Damas had no doubt that Mar would have met the exact same fate if Praxis had gotten his hands on him. And he suspected that Jak had known that too, even when he’d first met the child. The way Jak hovered over Mar whenever he was back in Spargus, the way he fought in both the ring and in Haven-

Jak wasn’t fighting solely for revenge anymore. He was fighting to ensure that the little boy who so looked up to him would neverendure the hell he had survived. And in Jak’s mind, as long as Praxis and Errol lived, Mar was in at least some danger. So Jak had redoubled his efforts to wipe the usurper and his pet torturer out once and for all.

If he was able to pull it off, if he didend them with his own hands, Damas wondered if his council would approve it as grounds for receiving his next battle amulet.

Damas set the folder and receiver down and drew a hand over his face. Spargus didn’t have the numbers to risk open war with Praxis – especially not with the Metalheads posing such a threat. The most help he could offer Jak would be scouts and infiltrators, working to destabilize those in power. Sig was doing a good job of balancing both helping the Underground and quietly sabotaging Krewe, much as Kleiver had done years ago, before Mar was born. But he was only one man, and Haven was a large city. If more citizens would actually take up arms, it would be easier-!

A faint scuff of skin against stone caught his attention, and Damas slid his hand down an inch to peer out over his fingers. Mar stood centimeters away, mimicking him. When Damas shifted his arm to lean his cheek on his fist, Mar did the same. The king smiled despite himself, and Mar swiftly mirrored his expression.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Damas asked. He reached out to brush a hand through the child’s unruly curls. They were almost long enough to braid now.

Mar took advantage of his outstretched arm to use as leverage and climbed up onto his father’s knee. He let out a big, gusty sigh and pouted.

“When is Jak coming back?” he asked.

Damas slid the folder on the Dark Warrior Project out of Mar’s reach and frowned. “It’s hard to know, son. Jak is…” he tilted his head back in thought. “Your brother is trying to help a lot of people right now. But he’s just one person. He can’t do everything at once.”

Mar’s frown deepened. “How come Jak and Daxter get all the scary chores from the scribbly man-” he had meant Torn, but having never learned to sign the word “tattoo”, the little boy instead indicated coloring on his face. “He yells and drinks the stinky bottle whenever Jak does chores.”

Damas blinked. “The stinky bottle-? Oh. Oh.Er…”

He wasn’t sure how to explain it to Mar, but after two weeks of Sig’s reports on Jak’s movements, he could sort of guess why the Underground leader was drinking.

Havenites didn’t have much of a reckoning for what would be a surprisingly normal Spargan adolescent. And that was withoutthat pesky little addition of the House of Mar’s tendency to channel eco in bizarre ways.

“Well,” Damas finally said, “Sig is there to help Jak with his…chores, and so is his orange rat friend. They’re very busy, but I’m sure they’ll visit when they need a rest.”

Mar snuggled against his chest with a faint hum of disapproval. “Daxter’s not a rat, Daddy. Daxter’s human,” he signed with a long-suffering look.

Damas eyed his son skeptically. “Mar, he’s covered in orange fur, and he’s two feet tall.”

“He used to be human! Jak said he fell in the angry eco and he grew a lot of a lot of a lot of hair and got tiny!” Mar nodded his head furiously in agreement with his own words. “I’m never gonna play with angry eco! I wanna get tall like you!”

“Angry…eco…?” Damas echoed in confusion. What was-?

“Dark eco? Are you talking about dark eco?”

Mar nodded again. “Yeah, the angry eco. It makes Big Brother go all white and grumpy. He doesn’t get little and fluffy. How come Jak doesn’t get little and fluffy?”

Damas shot a glance at the horrible file on the table. “Er…Jak didn’t…didn’t encounter the dark eco the same way his friend did.”

To his relief, Mar accepted this with a shrug and went on happily giving a decidedly garbled retelling of what was presumably the explanation behind Daxter’s ottsel status.

“Alright.” Damas stood up and shifted Mar to the floor. “Time you were in bed.”

Mar pouted again, but let himself be led back to his cot in Damas’s chambers. The crocodog pup raised his head from the foot of the bed, made a sleepy sound, and settled back down. It didn’t fully relax until Mar was tucked back in under the blanket, but such was the nature of crocodogs. They were fiercely protective of any human lucky enough to be considered part of their pack.

Mar wriggled around until he’d made a little nest of blankets beside his puppy. “Can Jak come home tomorrow?” he asked.

With a sigh, Damas knelt beside the cot. “I don’t think so. Haven is at war, Mar. That makes it tricky to go visiting other places.”

“But I want Jak to come back now!”Mar protested.

“I…” for an instant, the words stuck in his throat. Damas looked away. “I do too, little one.”

The more he knew about the Dark Warrior Project, the more uneasy he grew about Jak being so far from the comparative safety of Spargus. They hadn’t even had a chance to properly discuss his identity yet – Damas had no idea if Jak would even be receptive to building a connection with some alternate version of his probably-dead father. Nevertheless, he found that he could not be fully at peace until he had both Mar andJak under his watchful eye.

More reasons TPL Jak should not be left unattended in Spargus: the agility tutorial part of the Arena looks too much like the area of the swamp Jak used to goof off in

(Individual panels under the cut)

Jak: “Can I try?”

Sig: “Kid, that’s not a playground! Just stay up here.”

Damas: “If you think you can handle the agility course, show me.”

Jak: “Thanks Damas!”

Sig: “Damas, we have to be consistent with him!”

Damas: “Ah. Too late.”

I could never work out how young Wee Jak is supposed to be in Jak 2, so I always thought it would be funny if Samos had misjudged his age and Daxter was older than Jak.

Mostly because Daxter would absolutely never let Jak live that down.

Fic Prompts: Tuesday

Demolition Trio au, set right after the confrontation with Errol (and subsequently Keira) at the racing garage. Featuring a little worldbuilding for Spargus.

Something must have set him off.

Sig knew that Jak didn’t just Go Dark because somebody bumped into him during rush hour. He clung to whatever control he could manage with the desperation of a drowning man. There had to have been actual danger in order for Jak to morph now.

Right?

Sig hoisted himself up onto the roof of the saloon and scanned the edges until he caught sight of Jak’s hunched over figure. The kid didn’t have Daxter with him, which was worrying. His claws dug into the concrete, leaving shallow scratches, and he was breathing altogether too quickly.

“Jak?” Sig crouched about a yard away from him. “What’s up, kid? Is it metalheads? KG? Do I need to charge up the Peacemaker?”

Shark-black eyes snapped to the side to watch him warily. Jak bared long fangs in a silent warning: don’t come any closer.

“Okay.” Sig sat down and put his gun to the side. “Alright. I’m just gonna sit right here and watch your back, okay? Is that cool?”

He studied the boy, concerned.

“What happened, kid? Can you tell me?”

Jak opened and closed his mouth a few times, but couldn’t control his breathing or the dark eco enough to speak aloud. He tugged his claws out of the rooftop and clumsily fingerspelled a name.

Errol.

Sig knew that name to be more than just a champion racer now. He knewwhat that name meant to Jak. Revulsion flooded him like the bile in his throat, roughening his voice to a growl as he asked, “What did he do, Jak? Did that little creep touch you? Are you alright?”

“Taunted me.” was all Jak signed.

“In front of everybody, like he didn’t do anything wrong?!” A sense of outrage rose in his chest at the image.

“Well doesn’t he think he’s special, taking liberties like that.” Sig snapped. He took a deep breath. Being agitated wasn’t going to help Jak calm down. “Kid, if I could get into that part of town unnoticed, I’d wipe him off the map so fast the Baron’s head would spin.”

A bitter scoff wrenched itself out of Jak’s teeth. His hands were brusque and choppy as he answered, “But Keira likes him. Thinks he’s better than me.”

Keira? Wasn’t that the girl Daxter said they’d grown up with? Sig winced. He knew as well as any Wastelander that some of the worst abusers groomed their character witnesses as carefully as their victims. But that didn’t make the damage any less severe.

“I was supposed to race today. I can’t. I left Dax to race- I can’t look at them. I’ll snap, I’ll-” Jak put his hands down and gulped in air desperately.

“Jak?” Sig called softly, “can I come a little closer?”

After a tense moment, Jak nodded. Sig took it slowly, moving forward an inch at a time. With every forward motion he paused to give Jak time to adjust. The kid wasn’t the first shell-shocked warrior Sig had seen working through a flashback, and odds were high that he wouldn’t be the last, either. But it was always harder when it was somebody you knew and cared about.

“You cool if I just run my mouth for a minute?” Sig asked once he’d gotten within an arm’s length of the boy. “That used to help your- that used to help Damas focus right after Mar got kidnapped. Just something to drown out all the noise in your head, that’s what he called it. You don’t even have to pay attention.”

Jak was still tense and hypervigilant, but his ears perked up, rising from where they’d been pinned flat against his skull. It was the first sign of interest Sig had seen thus far, and he was taking it as a yes.

The big man settled into a more comfortable position and ran over a few ideas in his head.

“Did you know the first Spargans raised crocodogs as battle companions?” he began, “You’ve never seen a full-grown croc. Mar’s pup, Chopper? He’s only three years old. He won’t start getting bigger for another two years give or take. And man, he’s gonna grow fast.They’re big enough to take down a fully grown metalhead at about eight. By twelve, they’re big enough for a man to ride into battle.”

Jak shifted slightly to throw a curious glance at Sig. There were two points of light just barely visible in the center of his eyes – that was more than Sig had been able to see a few minutes ago. He was starting to break out of it – either that, or he was beginning to run low on dark eco. Sig kept talking.

“Once Spargans started using vehicles, they didn’t ride crocs into battle anymore. We went further inland, away from their natural habitat. Felt cruel to take them that far into the desert, y'know? It just seemed like it was time to let that tradition go. We stopped raising them, and the wild ones keep to the islands off the coast for the most part. But a few younger ones still wander into the city from time to time. Matter of fact, not long after he first staggered half dead into the city, Damas found an orphaned crocodog in a kangarat trap.”

He had barely been able to trade for enough food and water to last him a day, yet the newly exiled man had shared what he had with the wounded pup. That was where Sig’s mother had found him, huddled in an alley beside the dog. She had taken them both into her home and informed her son in a no-nonsense way that the refugee and the pup would both be staying.

“I think she knew he risked starvation to keep her alive,” Sig mused, “Because once she got big enough to do some real damage, she turned into a real demon around everyone who wasn’t Damas. If you so much as looked sideways at him, Ghost was liable to take a chunk out of you.”

Jak actually managed to force a smile at that. Sig wondered if he was thinking of Chopper, who already showed the same loyalty to both Jak and Mar.

“Does he still have Ghost?” Jak asked shakily.

His claws were beginning to recede now. Good, he was getting distracted enough for the dark eco to lose traction.

“He sure does.” Sig snorted. “That demon dog lives in a sea cave under the city. If he’d put her anywhere else, she’d have eaten anybody who came near her pups.”

He leaned forward, just a fraction. “Chopper is one of Ghost’s pups. Bet you didn’t know that. He was the runt. His sisters were all big and independent enough to hunt and survive without help after their first year. Chopper needed a little extra help. So Ghost brought Chopper to Damas.”

“How did Mar get him?”

Sig actually laughed a little at that memory.

“Same way he finds anything: by poking around somewhere he’s not supposed to be. Like somebody else I could mention.”

He winked at Jak.

“Little Man thought he was big enough to follow his dad through town, down to the sea cave that day. Which is terrifying, because he was two, and there’s a lot of steep ledges on the way down there. Of course, Ghost smelled him immediately and went all puppy-crazy. She got him by the back of the shirt and dropped him in her little nest, and once he saw Chopper, that was that.”

The toddler had squealed with joy, thrown his arms around the runt’s neck, and settled right down. While Damas had been busy having a miniature heart attack over how sneaky his son was, Mar had gotten cozy in the nest and ended up falling asleep. Ghost had been delighted, of course, that Her Human had finally brought his pup to introduce into their little pack. Enough that she wouldn’t even let them leave until Damas had taken the hint and picked up the runt. Ghost needed some pup-free time to rest and hunt. It was high time Her Human did his share of the work around here!

At this part of the story, Jak let out a startled hoot of laughter. Mirth softened those sharklike eyes and crinkled them at the corners. Personally, Sig found the look very endearing.

Jak sighed and pulled his knees to his chest. He rested his arms across them and took in a long, slow, breath.

“I’m…glad,” he rasped, “Chopper was…with Mar.”

Tentatively, Sig reached out and patted the kid’s back. “Me too.”

“Glad…he still…has a family.”

That made Sig wince. It wasn’t his story to tell, he knew that. But there was a wistfulness under that low growl that was tugging at his heart. He had to say something.It didn’t feel right to let Jak go on thinking he was unwanted.

“You do too, if you want it,” he said quietly.

“What?”

Sig swallowed hard and prayed for the right words. “Kid…I send a report back to Damas every day – everyday – because he wants to know where you are, what you’re doing, if you’re okay. It’s not just because you brought Mar home. He wants to know you,kid. He knows you’re his kid’s big brother. Now he wants to get to know you as Jak.”

There was an air of naked disbelief around Jak, even as his skin slowly darkened from corpse-white to the warm brown that Sig was accustomed to. He didn’t say anything, but as his sclera cleared, there was a look in his eyes that clearly said Don’t tease me like that. Don’t get my hopes up.

Not for the first time, Sig wished he could get ten minutes unsupervised in a room with the people who had filled Jak with such self-loathing.

“Hey.” Sig edged a little closer and nudged Jak with his shoulder. “You’ve already got your foot in the door. Once you’ve run a couple work missions with the folks in Spargus, they accept you as one of their own pretty quick. City’s only as strong as its weakest link, so once you’re connected you look out for your fellow links. You know what I mean?”

Jak looked away and somewhat conspicuously swiped an arm across his face.

“Guess so.”

Sig patted his arm. “C'mon. Race will be starting soon. You wanna go downstairs and watch Daxter kick tail on the racetrack?”

With a watery smile, Jak nodded. “…yeah.”

“Oh sure! When he picks off your plate, he’s "a growing boy”, and “a stinker”. But if I pick off your plate, I’m “a burger thief” and “a menace to society!”

“Dax, we’ve long since established that you’re a menace to society.”

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

Demolition Trio au continuing from last time to skip forward to closer to the end of the second game.

Lighthouse, this is Jak, do you read me?“

There had been no warning tone from the receiver, and it was nowhere near the appointed time for a report. The small radio crackled in the center of the table Damas used for council meetings, drawing stares ranging from curious to wary.

"That ain’t Sig,” Kleiver said in a hushed voice, “How’d the squirt get this channel?”

Damas kept his face still and reached for the receiver.

“This is the Lighthouse. Go ahead, Jak.”

“Is Mar with you?”

Damas tensed. The boy sounded like he was worried, but trying to hide it.

“He’s in the tower. Why?”

On the other end, Jak exhaled softly.

“We were set up. Kor’s a metalhead – he’s the metalhead. Baron’s dead, and Krewe let the metalheads into the city.”

Priya, one of the veteran warriors in the council, cursed creatively. “Metalheads can disguise themselves as humans?!”

It was a terrible thought. They would have to heighten security. But if the leader of the metalheads could infiltrate the Haven resistance for years with no one the wiser, how would the Spargans know if they’dbeen compromised?

“Good work, Jak,” Damas said evenly. Panic would do no good now. Especially not as king. “That is valuable information. I will keep Mar with me, if you are concerned about him. Where is Sig?”

There was a moment of silence, and a heaviness fell over the council even before Jak’s solemn voice answered.

“Sig’s…Sig’s gone.”

Damas had guessed the words were coming, but he felt them each like a blow regardless. He leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes.

Oh Sig…I hope it was on your terms, old friend.

Kleiver slammed a fist into the table. “What happened, ankle biter?” he demanded, “Sig’s one o’ our best! You expect me to believe Havencoulda offed the likes of him?”

“It wasn’t a guard,” Jak hissed, “It was a $%@! Metalpede. Knocked him straight off the bridge. I…”

His voice dropped in volume and became harder to hear.

“I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to at least find him. But I have to finish what he started.”

Tarmac, another veteran warrior, rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Sounds like you did exactly what you were supposed to do, kid. Not that it helps, I guess. What mission were you on?”

Everyone stiffened when Jak said, all too calmly, “We were ready to breach the Nest.”

Damas’s eyes snapped open and he snatched the receiver from the table. “You what?!”

“I have the Precursor Stone. I have Mar’s Cannon. I can blow the whole front of the hive off once and for all. If…if anyone wants to come join the party, Daxter and I wouldn’t mind a little company. If you’d rather earn some gems, Haven could sure use the help.”

Jak grew quiet again for an uncomfortable length of time. The council could barely hear him whispering to the orange one, Daxter. It sounded like they were disagreeing about something. Then Jak returned, sounding ominously solemn.

“Lighthouse, I’m finishing Sig’s mission. I’ll have boots on Misty Island in two hours at most. If I don’t- If- if I-”

The boy breathed in deeply and let it out slowly.

“…Damas. If I don’t walk out of this, tell Mar his…his big brother loved him. Like, a lot. And thanks. For, I guess for giving us a home. Jak out.”

“Jak-!” Damas gripped the receiver so tightly the plastic groaned under the pressure. “Do notenter that nest without backup, that is an order!”

He stood quickly and snatched up his staff. “Mobilize the advance scouts. I want a unit ready to move out before the top of the hour. All healers will need to be on standby.”

As he spoke, he marched toward the door. When silence followed, he spun on his heel to glare at the council.

“Well?!”

Priya set her wrinkled jaw. “Aye, lordship! And what about possible infiltrators?”

Damas’s jaw worked in silence for a moment. “Until we have confirmation of infiltration, we will continue as normal. If there aremetalheads among us, we cannot afford to rouse their suspicions.”

“And the kid?” Kleiver asked boldly.

“Do not concern yourself with my sons,” Damas answered flatly, surprising them, “I’ll see to it that Mar is protected before we depart.”

Don’t step into the light, Jak!

straight from my childhood memories,maybe one of the series that influenced my art and aesthetic the most,now that I think about it.