#I hope people see this. Please look. Please look at the Scarian..

[tubbytarchia]

Hi hi!! I accidentally spent way too long on this, but the animatic was so good it FUELLED me... Here's a screenshot redraw as a lil gift :] Sorry grian isn't very birby lol

OH HE IS VERY BIRBY WHAT DO YOU MEANNN AHHH I wish i could draw bruises and stuff like you, I totally skimped out on that but ahh this is sick!!! Oh it's so lovely and oh it hurts so much haha. Thank you so much, it's such an honor for my work to inspire anyone, this is so cool!!! AHHHYH your art is so pretty!! I love the colors and Grian's face says it all hnggg

[angeart]

hunted hybrids au rambles

this is an au me and @linkito made for our scarian RP, so just beware it’s focused solely on these two and it’s self-indulgent. CWs, i suppose, are themes of violence and dehumanisation of hybrids, and mention of self harm (feather plucking).

the basic premise is that hermitcraft’s code got attacked. think season 8 moon big and ground deteriorating underneath their feet, but it’s all more rapid and out of the blue. they don’t get a chance to investigate or prepare. it’s just. happening. so obviously, confusion and panic.

and then the hermits get scattered, to other worlds, seemingly indiscriminately and at random, as hermitcraft implodes. 

grian and scar end up in the same world, but it takes them about a week to realise. (a very horrible week, mind you.) their comms don’t work quite right here. 

now, where they’ve ended up is a very, very hybrid-hostile world. think rough people and black markets and criminal societies. think hunters and bloodhounds and phantom-dragons that screech through the night. think traps and watchtowers and rotting forests without a bird-chirp in them.

this world considers hybrids to be something to hunt. something to take apart and sell and gloat about. vexes are disliked and killed for sport, for  bragging rights. there’s no mercy in that. avians, though? avian wings are seen as a commodity, a decoration. something to make money out of and claim a different kind of prestige from. 

... did i mention this world is permadeath?

yeah.

so here we have these two hermits, and i think it’s important to note that the life games aren’t a thing in this universe. they never experienced a situation where they have to fight for their life. they find themselves here, stranded and alone, not knowing if their home even still exists or what happened to the others and if there’s anyone left out there who will be looking for them. 

maybe they try to look for help, used to friendly communities and little to no consequences.

maybe they get glares and smirks and weapons pulled on them.

maybe they realise the error they’ve made. maybe they realise that this is no place to seek help.

and then they run.

and all they can do is keep on running.

(the wood is rotten. the animals are scarce, next to none - have they even seen any? besides the wailing hounds? they can’t remember. the resources are hidden, stashed away in the communities they are desperate to get as much distance from as possible. the land is dark, and eerie, and unfamiliar. it’s late autumn, toppling into winter, air chilly and frosty, and they are so, so very underprepared.)

i think this is a good time to note that i chose violet-backed starling as the bird-base for grian in this au. because the wings are brilliant and bright and vibrant. they’re rare. expensive. very, very much wanted. (very hard to hide in a drab late-autumn.) 

scar and grian meet under dire circumstances: a hunter de-routed from going after scar by a call for backup, to a violet-winged avian—an information scar overhears—a trophy too precious to walk away from. this is the moment scar has the startling, horrifying realisation that grian is also trapped in this world. (he hears  him before he sees him, and he’d know that voice anywhere.) (he never heard him scream like this before—)

long story short, grian gets hurt, scar goes a little feral, and together they escape, to seek out shelter and supplies in a world that seems determined to strip everything away from them. it’s getting colder, and they have nowhere to go but deeper into the forest, hoping that they’ll eventually go far enough that the hunters will give up. (a feeble, impossible hope.) 

please think about them being so confused and destabilised over the realisation that they’re no longer alone. the complicated feeling of relief of having someone familiar and safe there, and the absolutely nauseating terror of having them there, because it means they’re stuck in this nightmare, too. the struggle to keep each other alive and sane through it. the way how something so normal and taken for granted gets turned upside down—and gentle touch now feels so unfamiliar. (oh how they need that softness, in a world that is only ever harsh and cruel.)

the (so far) two drawings i made for this au are:

1. them curled up into each other, wrapped up in a blanket, trying to keep warm and survive the night. please note that scar is pressed against grian’s back, protecting the part of him that now feels the most vulnerable. (grian’s wings are a huge target. a beacon beckoning the hunters closer.) grian used to sleep (on those rare moments when he actually allowed himself to stop and nap) with his wings pressed against hard, rough, cold edges, just to hide them. just to make them less visible, just to make himself a little less vulnerable. (his feathers are a mess.)

2. on that note. the second drawing touches on grian’s complicated feelings about his wings that come from all this trauma. because all those pretty feathers do is drag danger to them. because he used to love them and they used to be his pride and joy and they let him feel free, but he can’t even fly anymore (the sky is too open; there are too many airborne hunters and watchtowers). and it’s these damned feathers that cause him and, more importantly, scar to get hurt and have to run and run and run even when they feel like they can’t anymore. 

grian is so upset with his feathers. they feel like a curse. they feel like a burden. they feel like he’ll never not be terrified as long as he has them. he’s tired and in pain and cornered and desperate, and he wants them gone. and so what if he cries. what if he starts plucking them out, urgent, frustrated, panicked sharp yanks, and—

and scar is there, and he’s shushing him and telling him to stop. telling him that his wings are beautiful, and they’re his, and scar won’t let anyone else touch them, ever. it’s okay. it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay. (nothing is okay.)

//full drawings are linked so feel free to check them out if you're interested :3

------ @motherofplatypus a bit late but here you go! the requested au rambles