#Owlet Au

[tol-critter]

[archfey-edda]

I gave up on the rendering. Translating clone armor to leaves is a pain.

[lovemoroporo]

can’t wait to see this little guy again and for nothing bad to happen

[forests-fabled-stage]

「 ᨒ↟⸙ 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 ⸙↟ᨒ 」

「 ᨒ↟⸙ 𝑨𝑼 𝑰𝒏𝒇𝒐 ⸙↟ᨒ 」

This blog contains content centered around the Smiling Critters: Forest Fables AU, such as story/lore, character references, and more!

~{ ✧ Be sure to check out this Carrd for permissions and more info ✧ }~

AU Status》 Work in progress

Ask box status》 Open

When making asks though clarify who/what your asking about please ^^

Versions you can ask》 Bigger body, Cartoon

Main Blog》 @darktapufifi

「 ᨒ↟⸙ 𝑵𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒘 ⸙↟ᨒ 」

「 ᨒ↟⸙ 𝑻𝒂𝒈 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆 ⸙↟ᨒ 」

General Tags》 #sc: forest fables — #sc:ff Lore Tag》 #sc:ff lore Character Tags》 #sillybilly — #musemoose — #fiestyfoxy — #oli owlet — #smiley snailshell — #swirlysquirrel — #betty bucktooth — #fred froghop — #poempony — #horatio spectō — #kaiza kickboard Asks / Annon Asks》 #sc:ff ask — #sc:ff asks Polls》 #sc:ff poll Art / Work in Progress Tags》 #sc:ff references — #sc:ff art Writing / Stories》 #sc:ff writing Fanart》 #sc:ff fanart

「 ᨒ↟⸙ 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⸙↟ᨒ 」

-{ The Crew }- (W.I.P.)

Red — MuseMoose (He/Him)

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Orange — SillyBilly (He/Any) — This is SillyBilly, the goofy, childish, comedian of the crew! He is always there to lighten the mood with his jokes, big or small, and even if the jokes dont land, he is willing to make a fool of himself for the benefit of his friends. He brings joy, and sorrow to those that listen.

Yellow — FiestyFox (She/Her)

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Green — Fred Froghop (He/They)

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Blue — SwirlySquirrel (He/She)

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Purple — Smiley Snailshell (They/Them)

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Pink — Betty Bucktooth (She/Her)

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White — Oli Owlet (She/They)

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-{ The Guests }- (W.I.P.)

Beige — PoemPony (She/They) — A talented poet, PoemPony is better expressing their feelings with a pencil than with their voice, and their friends know that underneath that shy and nervous look there's an artist big and shiny like ink on a page.

Aqua — Kaiza Kickboard (Any/They/Them)

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Lime — Horatio Spectō (He/They) — 'In my mind’s eye' is how Horatio starts most of their lectures, those that always tend to fall on deaf ears since that is their curse and their blessing; while he can see and perceive far more than the naked eye and be as wise as an owl, their shrill tone and dismissive attitude end up making people skeptical of their knowledge. Something that frustrates them a lot, but there is special providence in the fall of a sparrow, or in this case, of a parrot.

-{ Special Editions }- (W.I.P.) Joke)

Grey — HomicidalHonk (He/Honk/It)

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「 ᨒ↟⸙ 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒔 ⸙↟ᨒ 」

》 Green Dainty Chains》 Cafekitsune

》 @novalizinpeace for PoemPony's art & ref

》 @novalizinpeace for Horatio Spectō's art & ref

》 @itzsharks-3am-thoughts Creator of Kaiza Kickboard

[myobsessions247]

A Hunter Au, it might not be for everyone but there is mama Eda and a younger Hunter, also big thing: Hunter is cursed (but you’ll have to wait to find out how!)

Runaway Owlet

Chapter 1 - A Lying Emperor and His Ward

He thought he should look up to his uncle. But once Lilith and he started to get close, they became more comfortable around each other. He realized the stark contrast between Belos and Lilith, how he could talk to Lilith about wild magic but his uncle… The atmosphere when he’s around Belos is very different to Lilith, shouldn’t it be the opposite? Shouldn’t he be able to talk about his interests to his uncle freely?

Hunter stares at himself through the mirror, with a far look on his face. He watches the blood stream down his neck soaking into his sweater, staining it. The last six minutes were a blur. The strike across his face was a blur. The run back to his room, leaving a trail of tears and blood was a blur. He thought so many different thoughts staring at his bloody hands and face, as all the colors around turned vivid and blur, was a blur. 

Would Lilith do this to him? He wouldn’t blame her if she did. He doesn’t know if she would. No, she wouldn’t. Lilith would never have to hit him. Not even if he’d mention how life might be better without the coven system, or being able to cure his uncle’s and his curse with wild magic. She’s too kind to hurt him for thinking there’s a better way to live. 

Hunter feels unsafe around Belos.

He should’ve known this for a while now. 

His heartbeat races. His breathing shortens. His bloody hands shake. He feels the feathers forming on his arms, face, hair, legs, and chest. His eyes widened. He frantically searches for a golden yellow potion. He finds it in a drawer and chugs it down, face furrowing in disgust. The feathers lift as he sticks his tongue out, I keep forgetting how bad this tastes! He remembers.

He looks back at the mirror, it suddenly reminds him of the wound. Now calm, he grabs his healing kit and gets to work cleaning up his injury.

He doesn’t feel safe around Belos.

It’s patched up, though you can see where the blood dried and the splotches of a darker red in his sweater.

Hunter doesn’t feel safe in the emperor’s coven.

He wants to leave so badly, yet he doesn’t. He doesn’t know where else to go. But wouldn't living homeless be better than living in a place that doesn’t feel like home? How would he eat, he barely eats here anyway. What about Lilith, what about Belos?

Hunter isn’t safe here.

He finds a bag to pack his stuff in. Two pairs of clothes (he’ll have to deal with not being able to wash them), some extra bandages, and… he doesn’t need anything else, does he? Though he does want some things. One of his favorite books, and a stuffed frog. 

Oh! Elixirs! 

…

He doesn’t have any more. He looked in the dresser drawer, desk, under his bed even! No sign of a golden yellow potion. He won’t get that stressed, would he? If he can survive without food, he’ll be fine, maybe.

Hunter, you are not safe there.

He waits until it’s two in the morning before leaving his room. He lived in the castle, he knew the scouts’ schedules and the layout like the back of his scared, gloved hand. Sure, it’s not like the entire building is empty, there are plenty of guards still guarding. But the only flaw: is shifts. Hunter waits near the entrance until the security walks away to get the next shift of scouts. That is when Hunter takes his chance to leave the castle. And then, he runs.

He runs for a good hour until his legs give in and he collapses on the cold forest floor. He doesn’t know how long he’s been crying, he only notices once he leans against a tree. Keep running. A little voice in his head nags. He ignores it, no, I’m tired. 

Belos will find you. Keep. Running.

No one knows I’m gone. I’ll worry about it in the morning.

Hunter’s breathing slows, and his legs ache. It’s cold, his nose is running, and he can feel his cheeks wet from the tears. Why is he crying again? 

Snap! Hunter jolts awake, he didn’t even know he drifted off. His ears twitch, in whatever direction the sound came from. It’s Silent. Is he going crazy? He hugs his legs, why did I leave? He hates that he wants to go back. He hates that he would rather get hit again, but still stay and rest in his bed. But I don’t want to! He keeps contradicting himself! 

He can’t get what he wants, a place to stay with a bed and food, and not to get hurt for a thing he says or does. He wants Lilith and not his uncle. He has to choose. Go back. Stay here.

He didn’t notice he started crying again. Oh well. Lilith would comfort him if she was here. Belos would just say “Quit crying, that’s not how you handle things.” He would say to grow up, and no one else is crying about not getting dinner. 

Like most nights, Hunter cried himself to sleep. Hugging himself and his pink stuffed frog he got out during his crying fit.

NOTES:

This will be a short chapter just like another few after this, I am trying to write a lot of the chapters ahead of time. I have so many ideas for this and for fluff I write what ever feels right in the moment. And most of the mysteries will stay mysteries until it either needs to come up or the truth will come out later(hint hint for Hollow Mind >:3) I do hope you like this idea enough to stick around, and don’t forget to let me know if any of it feels unnatural, like characters or anything else.

And lastly thank you for reading! Have a good night/midday/morning!

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

Splinter Cell au today! Last Splinter Cell was father-son bonding time, so today Jak gets to spend time with his mom

Phobos was a light sleeper even in the best of times. Here in this rebel base, during the second week of her and Damas rotating between Haven and Spargus with their children, even the slightest noise was enough to wake her. She sat up in her cot and let her eyes adjust to the half-light of the Babak settlement's barracks. What had roused her?

She let her eyes roam the long wooden hut, taking stock of each of her fellow Spargans and the members of Brutter's tribe. Leave it to a son of Damas to reforge the alliance between the Babak and the House of Mar by accident. Damas had been insufferable for an entire day when he found out. But Phobos found she couldn't be too irritated at him; the way Jak and his fluffy friend brightened when they heard him bragging about them was enough to make that stupid little smirk bearable. They walked a little taller any time she or Damas complimented them, Phobos had noticed. It was nice to see Jak opening up.

Thoughts of her newfound son drew her gaze to his cot, two beds over. With how restless he'd proven to be, Phobos half expected the cot to be empty. But it wasn't.

Jak sat hunched in the center of the cot with his knees pulled to his chest. Even in the gloom, it was apparent that something wasn't right. The fingers that gripped his knees were tipped with curved, black, talons. His skin had faded from bronze to an almost reflective pearl.

Oh.

Phobos had heard the reports of Jak's "Hunter" shape before, but she had never witnessed it in person. She took in the curved horns rising from his curls, and it struck her that the boy resembled nothing so much as the dragonowls that nested in the cacti in Strider Range. All he was missing were the feathers at this point. Even the flickers of violet sparks dancing across Jak's horns didn't diminish the fact that, in the context of desert life,  the Hunter form was a little endearing.

Rising from her cot, Phobos shook out her tunic and made a show of stretching. From what she'd heard, startling Jak when he was in a battle-shift didn't end well. Stark black eyes zeroed in on her in an instant, tracking her movement. Phobos smiled at him and approached his bed slowly.

"Hey, little owl" she whispered, "What's got you up so late?"

His ears flicked up, then back -- a warning that he did not want to be touched, Phobos guessed. She settled on the very end of the cot and kept her hands where he could see them. Had he had a nightmare? From the things Tess mentioned now and then, Phobos knew the boy had more reasons for nightmares than most people twice his age. They may have been just acquaintances so far, but it rankled to know a young boy had suffered so horribly with no one to stand up for him.

"Are you alright, owlet?" Phobos frowned gently and tilted her head. "Has something disturbed you?"

Surprise softened Jak’s face. He cocked his head and mirrored Phobos's frown.

"You're not afraid?" asked clawed hands.

Phobos clicked her tongue, almost scoldingly.

"Why should I be? I am as dangerous as you are, owlet. And neither of us are as dangerous as the sea."

Jak furrowed his brow and drew his knees in closer.

"...doesn't feel good," he finally admitted. "Too much dark eco, can't let it out right now."

"Ah." Phobos sighed and shifted a little closer. "You're oversaturated? Yeah? I saw that happen to your father once when an ammunition crate broke."

It was getting easier to call Damas this boy's father. Easier to think of Jak as her own.

"It was a different kind of eco, sure, but it looked like it sucked either way."

If he had been Mar -- a strange statement, considering he had been Mar in another world, another life -- Phobos would have rubbed his back and hummed him to sleep again. But Mar was a toddler, still dependent on his adults for comfort. And Jak was just a few years shy of being old enough for the Arena trials! Most teenagers his age found such coddling embarrassing; Phobos could admit that she had been one such teenager once upon a time, cringing at her own mother's public affection.

But would Jak be the same?

He was so much older than their Mar, and yet sometimes she could see her little boy peering out from behind those bright eyes. He was starved for affection, but conditioned to distrust most touch. Unbearably lonely, but afraid of rejection.

Phobos bit her lip, then held out her hand. "Come on, Jak. Let's go outside. We'll get that eco spent so you can go back to sleep, alright?"

Jak winced and looked up. Fangs dug into his lip as he frowned.

"Can't. Might need it for battle."

"There will be more eco in battle," Phobos said. She stood and kept her hand extended.

"Come on, baby. I got you. I'll watch your back, okay?"

It took another five seconds of gentle cajoling before Jak uncurled himself and slid off the cot. He didn't take her hand -- he usually didn't -- but when Phobos looked back, he had the end of her sash in one hand, twisting it around his claws like he was afraid he'd get lost if he let go. He let himself be shepherded along the catwalks connecting the Babak village to the mine shafts. The humming of the elevator seemed to vibrate in his bones, through his horns, unbearably loud.

It was better to wake up in the stifling heat of the caverns, better to be surrounded by snoring, than to find himself in the harsh cold of the Baron’s laboratories. Better to be soaked with sweat on a creaky cot than to shiver while listening to the screams of other test subjects. But even here, even from the grave, Errol still held sway over his nightmares. That was what had gathered the eco into battle-readiness in his body, looking for threats that did not exist. Jak was a haunted man.

The cool night air washed over them both, and Jak shivered. It ended in a sneeze, and the woman beside him smiled softly.

She nodded to the cliffs above the cave network.

"Sig said he saw you scale a building in this shape, fast as a lizard. I bet you're even faster with real handholds."

She stepped back and squinted as if searching for something.

"I'll bet," she said slowly, "I'll bet you there's a couple hotfoot lizards up there, actually. You can eat those, you know. They don't taste that great, but they help your body regulate heat better for a while."

She shrugged.

"Why don't you see if you can catch a few, and I'll show you how to cook them in the morning."

Jak's sharklike eyes studied the cliffs, absorbing even the smallest pinprick of light. He grinned slowly.

"Eat them raw?"

Phobos made a face. "Blegh! You can, but you might regret it later."

"I might not."

"Oy!" Phobos shook her head and laughed quietly. "You sound like Damas when he was young!"

She wasn't sure if the subsequent darker hue of the boy's skin was a blush, or if the observation had made him lose a little dark eco.

Jak bent his knees slightly, and then with a rush of air he leaped; suddenly airborne, six feet directly up. One hand caught the face of the cliff, and soon he was scaling up the rocks at a dizzying rate. Despite herself, Phobos felt her jaw drop. She had never seen anyone but a Lurker make a jump like that unaided! Would Mar be able to do that one day? Or was this an ability only Jak had, learned from the Dark Oracle that favored him?

"Look at you!" She laughed in astonishment and clapped a hand to her forehead. "I oughta put you on the rigging in my fishing boat!"

Jak reappeared after a noisy minute or two with dark spots on one cheek that looked suspiciously like blood.

"Found the lizards," he signed down to her.

Phobos raised an eyebrow. "Did you eat them?"

"No....yes. One." Then he reached back and almost sheepishly raised the battered carcass of a Glub.

"Ohhhh." Phobos squinted up through the darkness. "You want any help up there? Or do you just want to hunt until the eco runs out?"

She knew the answer before Jak had even set the Glub down to sign again.

The moment she'd said "hunt", his eyes had narrowed and his ears flicked up.

Dark eco wasn't just the element of the ocean. It was the element of the hunter, the carnivore, and the tempest. The chase was in its very nature, and right now that nature was rushing through Jak's veins at breakneck speed.

Jak bared his fangs in what was either a show of aggression to Glubs, or a very unsettling smile. Then he dropped out of sight, and Phobos guessed that he was probably shimmying along the ground to look for lizards.

He would probably be up there for a little while. Phobos strolled along the small strip of beach, looking for palm fronds to weave into a basket. She somewhat doubted that Jak would remember to actually bring her any lizards, but she liked working with her hands nonetheless. Without really thinking about it, she hummed quietly, keeping a rhythm with her hands. It was a lively tune, a folk song so old that no one in Spargus really remembered where it had come from. In the language of the people who had once lived in the ruined coastal settlements, the lyrics were something to do with a wily cacomiztli asking a cockatoo to a Fiesta with her. She praised the bird's plumage and grace, and he, flattered, agreed to go. Naturally, the song ended with the cacomiztli having a very nice party meal.

A bit morbid, perhaps, but it had a fine, rollicking melody, and easy to remember rhymes -- even for those who couldn't speak the Coastwatcher dialect. And it reminded children not to trust a flatterer.

A shuffling of feet on the sand paused Phobos's humming, and she glanced up. Jak crouched less than two feet from her, watching with a bemused expression. How was he so quiet?!

His horns had receded considerably, now no more than little nubs poking out of his curls. He'd gotten some color back, too.

"Oye, owlet, did you bring me any lizards?" Phobos asked.

Sheepishly, he held up two lizard tails. Evidently, he had forgotten that the creatures could detach their tails and flee. By the mess on his hands, Phobos guessed he'd spent more time hunting Glubs. She laughed and patted the sand next to her.

"Better luck next time, eh? Here- go get yourself a frond. We're making baskets until you're ready to go back to sleep."

The dark eco continued to fade as Jak struggled to weave with claws. What little hadn't been expended on the small carnivores up the cliff was rapidly being reabsorbed into his bloodstream. When the dark form dropped entirely, Phobos almost didn't notice at first. Jak was as quiet as before, sitting still and watching her weave. She continued to hum until a raspy voice interrupted her.

"Did...Dax...teach you...that?"

Phobos glanced up and noticed Jak wince and massage his throat. She clicked her tongue sympathetically.

"Regretting eating that lizard raw, huh? Too bad we didn't bring our canteens so you could wash that taste out."

"It...was bad." Jak made a face.

With a chuckle, Phobos scooted closer. "Alright owlet, let me see what you've got."

She looked at the sad, lopsided basket, and took hold of Jak's hands to guide him.

"Here: over, under. Over, under. Do that all the way around until you have an alternating pattern on each stem."

Jak furrowed his brows and did his best to follow her movements.

"You didn't answer my question," he croaked.

Ugh. That taste was going to sit in his throat for hours.

"Which one, baby?" Phobos asked, reaching over to flick a coil of hair out of his face.

Baby.

Nobody had ever called him baby before. Well, not sincerely, anyway. Jinx and his guys did sometimes, but they called everyone nicknames like that, because they were weird.

They didn't have the same warmth in their voices, and they definitely didn't apply affectionate nicknames to his dark form!

"The song. Daxter's favorite when we were little. Did he teach you?"

Phobos leaned back. "It's been around that long? Huh! Didn't think the Coastwatcher people went as far as Dead Town."

Jak shrugged. "Daxter's not from Sandover either. He showed up in a boat a year before I did. Said a hurricane washed his village away and he was trapped in the boat."

Jak paused as something occurred to him.

"Wait. How far is your island from Misty Island?"

"Misty Island?"

"Where everyone says the Nest is," Jak clarified.

With how much dark eco had been there when he was a kid, he wasn't surprised that the metalheads had chosen Misty Island to nest.

"About two days on a propeller boat," Phobos said, rubbing her chin, "Closer to two hours by air."

The math lined up surprisingly well, and Jak began to wonder if perhaps his best friend had his origins on the same island he had allegedly been born on. One more thing tying them together; Daxter would be so excited!

"You telling me your buddy in the Titan Suit is a Coastwatcher?" Phobos asked with interest.

"Um...maybe? Have to ask."

Phobos whistled low. "When we go home, we'll have to keep the monks from snatching him. They're obsessed with history and archeological discovery. You tell them a Coastwatcher ancestor is still living and they'll lose their minds."

Jak laughed, almost silently. "He'd probably like that, though. It's rough being the last survivor."

Phobos wrapped an arm around his shoulders and, distracted as he was, Jak simply leaned into her. Phobos stilled, unwilling to jeopardize this moment. She smiled and set her basket aside to brush a hand over her son's hair.

"Well. Neither of you are alone now," she murmured. "And I can promise you, we're not going anywhere."

Was it her imagination, or did Jak lean into her side a little further?

They sat quietly for a moment, watching the waves roll in and out. Then, barely audible over the hiss of the surf, Jak whispered,

"Good."

[toad-in-a-trenchcoat]

@inkteresting-art

exactly

[celestiall0tus]

A Sister's Ode

I see you. I see everything now.

Thank you for your sacrifices, dear Chloe. All the years which you kept me safe. You allowed me to grow into the woman I am. But the burden isn't yours alone.

My eyes have been opened and wings unclipped. I shall be what you always were to me. I will be what shields you from our enemies.

Rest easy, dear Chloe. Your precious Owlet is here.

[nia1sworld]

Barbara, what is the only thing you enjoy doing besides....singing and such?

Ask the ink chronicles #178

[tohkilledme]

OG au concept

“Feral Owlets” AU

8yo Luz Noceda, who still hasn’t moved to Gravesfield, falls in a body of water and ends up on King’s island, where she spends the next 4 years before being found by Eda.

“Eda barely managed to wrestle these on” & “Stuck in another world & it’s not what she thought it would be” in case you can’t read my writing

[imagineforeststudio]

If my AU was a game, then the cover would look like this:

(So far I have only made the Nintendo Switch version)

Sorry for the bad quality 😓

[tol-critter]

just realized I never drew the actual owl beast(s) which is surprising

[joz-yyh]

Don't mind me going full-steam ahead into a Bounty Hunter x Flagellant DD2 AU 🙃 ❤️‍🔥 ❤️‍🔥 ❤️‍🔥 MORE DETAILS UNDER THE CUT!!

Damian loses his memory after being subjected to the physical/mental torture of the "cultist" enemies (the majority of his skin is burned and his fingernails have been replaced with metal).

After being "converted" into their group, he looses all sense of who he is. He harbors none of his previous powers/strength, but proves to be resilient against enemy attacks so he serves as a meat shield or remains chained up until they can find further use for him.

One day, an unnatural owlet visits Damian and the flagellant is instantly draw to it, enough to leave his captors/binds with the help of the fledgling’s impressive psychic abilities. He bonds with his newly acquired feathered friend, the two journeying together, the owl leading him somewhere important, feeding him flashbacks/visions of someone he can’t remember.

Damian finally reuniting with Tardif and the bounty hunter can’t believe his eyes. He thought this man was dead. The flagellant is terrified, unable to comprehend his jumbled memories. Having to relearn to be the person he was before, who this man is, and what it all means -- it’s too much. The bounty hunter doing his best to share the burden, mourning over what’s become of his partner and blaming himself. They both have a lot of baggage to sort through, but at least they have an extraordinary pet owl who can help.

[lovemoroporo]

Dadrius for a kofi request!

⭐  ig | kofi | comms ⭐  

[lovelysailboat]

How does one sue a vigilante for copyright infringement when your organization is supposed to be secret? This is inspired by a fun au @adriaticmidnight and I have where Thomas and Martha Wayne were invited to join the court of owls and they decide that they love their aesthetic and desire to make Gotham better so they steal it and become the vigilantes Owlman and Owlwoman.

It is still a baby au but these are the few headcanons that we've come up for it.

Thomas and Martha Wayne are dramatic as hell and have fully committed to the bit.

It is unclear if Martha and Thomas are actually part of the Court of Owls. They never gave them a clear yes or no they just showed up to the next meeting in their Owlman and Owlwoman suits.

No one know how or where they got their suits but they refuse to respond to anything other than Owlman and Owlwoman when they wear them.

They have taken notes on the architecture of the secret Court of Owls hideouts and modeled their Owlcave off of it.

Eventually they bring Bruce along and he goes by Owlet.

When the three of them are together in costume they introduce themselves as the Court of Owls which makes the original Court of Owls very angry.

The Court of Owls tried to get them killed but they are Owlman and Owlwoman now and they cannot be stopped.

They hear talk of the court taking in Dick Grayson and making him a talon. So the Waynes adopt him and he takes on the vigilante name Talon.

This meme: