#vampire scar au
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angeart · 8 months ago
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"G, your blood does taste nice, but I'm— I'm not—"
"You're not a monster, Scar. I know."
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kingprinceleo · 10 months ago
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vampire au- damage control
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justvea18 · 2 months ago
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More vampire au hehe
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creative-clawmarks · 3 months ago
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What's worse, learning that your friend was a murderous monster or learning that you were catastrophically down bad for him?
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KO-FI
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godsplatter · 11 months ago
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theyve got issues
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scarredlove · 1 year ago
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@justfangirlstuffs
Please I have a mighty need
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coeur-de-fruk · 2 months ago
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rawr xd
i bring vampire fruk this halloween season
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regularconvexheadcanons · 3 months ago
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Psst sculk scar anon here- (speaking of could I possibly be tagged as sculk scar anon? I've been having a fun time checking on this blog and seeing the ideas!) Ahem ahem
Vampire Scar
Vampire Hunter Cub
Vampire Hunter Grian (part of a specific hunting group, "Watchers")
Vampire Scar happily living with Cub, teaching him and letting Cub examine things that are interesting about vampire biology! Not mentioning the mythology some vampires know- though the lore of vampire kind differed from coven to coven, but Scars knowledge? Interesting in how much... cannibalism was involved. Not in just blood drinking but full on cannibalism.
It maybe- maybe! got Cub curious about how vampires blood tasted. Maybe he'd get a small vial. Maybe he'd try it. Maybe Scar would be so delighted that he spun Cub around- nooo it was definitely minorly (majorly) getting vampire married. Maybe even a few dances under the moonlight, the loving caretaking of a coffin during daylight during a honeymoon that totally doesn't happen if you were a hunter.
Until Grian met Scar. Meet cute by the beach, helping the poor tourist around, heading to the inn/hostel/hotel/motel (I have no set time for this so m a n y places to be listed) and walking Grian to the door like a gentlemen. Cub waits for Scar to come back from his walk. And waits. And waits. And waits.
And can't wait anymore, suited in his hunter gear just in case, hoping beyond hope that Scar was okay- and he finds nothing. Anywhere. No matter where he searches, he can't get a trace of Scar! It drives Cub insane, slow but *sure*, a neat house being slowly unkempt and gathering dust- until he stumbles upon a power that could help him find Scar. Is it the Vex? Sculk? .....The buried magic of Cubs family? That he's truly from a line of powerful Pharaohs? Who knows! Only thing for certain is that everyone should hope nothing happened to Scar!
oooooh fun AU idea! I can definitely (if you'd allow that) combine this with the supernatural village AU I've been hoping I can find a story for.
I've never done much with vampires or cannibalism (personally a little uncomfortable about cannibalism stuff, but growing more alright with it). The idea of Cub learning about vampires through Scar is cool, and protecting him from vampire hunters at the same time.
I had another thought though: what if Scar's pretending he's a vampire because they're more socially acceptable than Vexlings like himself. And maybe Cub figures this out, because all of Scar's vampire information is slightly wrong. Not much, because he's studied a lot about magic, but definitely wrong or misguided.
But Scar getting lost, and Cub using all the magic he can control to get him back (or threaten people), especially if it's after Scar meets vampire-hunter Grian. (This fits so well with my idea of GIGS being phasmo-style ghost hunters in my AU, Cub would be terrified that they realised he was a Vexling, the possessed host of a Vex ghost and did something to him).
And this idea has added a thought of fully leaning into the supernatural with this AU and having all sorts of curses (Canary curse), and werewolf!Ren, ghost!Joe and zombie!Cleo.
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kazalmilk · 6 months ago
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Vampire!Charles because I couldn’t resist
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ghostboocos · 1 year ago
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A bit of a delayed post on my end, as I’m not familiar with posting on Tumblr, but I wanted to share my friend and I’s Halloween costumes of @mojo-chojo ‘s Spicy Chicken AU :D
We absolutely love your art associated with the AU and wanted to design Vampire!Mumbo, Harpy!Grian, and Sorcerer!Scar cosplays around it.
I hope you like them if you end up seeing this :D
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stardust948 · 4 months ago
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Zutara Vampire Hunters AU inspired by Castlevania Nocturne
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angeart · 11 months ago
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vampire scar ch1 story wip-
The area around them is dangerous; the night is quickly drawing in and the darkness is beginning to wield claws and teeth, bloodlust seeping into the air in sharp howls and snarls. Yet even then, entering unknown structures could be as dooming as staying inside. Four walls could as easily trap as protect. It’s always a gamble.
With that in mind, Grian still leads Mumbo towards the mansion that looms eerie and quiet and foreboding in front of them. With a little bit of luck, it will be abandoned, covered in dust and silence and bones. 
He should’ve known better. They haven’t had luck in a long time.
The hinges creak when they ram into the huge, ornate front door to convince it to open. That’s promising. The grating sound is a song of disuse, and Grian considers it a good sign as they tumble inside and quickly shut the door behind them.
For a little bit, they just breathe and try to get their bearings. The entrance hall is huge, sprawling, running off in all kinds of directions. It’s hard to make out the detail of the interior; the only light is the swiftly dimming light coming in through the windows.
Grian fails to notice that the windows aren’t covered in grime. He fails to notice that the place is not in disarray, covered in spiderwebs. He fails to notice that the air isn’t stale and dusty. 
“I—I think this looks good?” Mumbo looks around cautiously, keeping close to Grian in this unfamiliar space.
Grian breathes out a huff of relief, even though the sound is still coated with tension; his body refuses to relax, too many unknown variables still spinning through his mind. Anything could lurk in the dark corners and dozens of rooms, and they’re aware only of one singular escape route—and even that is slow and uncertain, hanging on rusty, unwilling hinges. 
If he would be easily swayed with any shreds of things that faintly resemble comfort, they wouldn’t have survived this long.
So he doesn’t give in. He looks around, and he wishes it would be as simple as it seems. There’s a desperate yearning in him for something uncomplicated, for one night not filled with threats and dread and fear for their lives. How he wishes to be able to close his eyes and maybe, maybe sink into a soft bed and just sleep without being terrified of the possibility of not waking up in the morning—
This place is bound to have some soft beds.
Grian’s stomach twists at the thought. No, he tells himself. He can’t be stupid here. He can’t give in. They need to remain alert; they know nothing about this place.
“We should look around,” he suggests, voice taut. 
“Yes. Definitely,” Mumbo agrees immediately, his eyes roaming the area. “Do you want to split up?”
Grian swivels on his heels to face him, an indignant scoff on his lips. “Split—Split up?! Mumbo!” he chastises. “You know that—“
Mumbo lifts his hands up defensively. “Alright, alright! I’m just saying, it’s a big place. Lots of ground to cover.”
Grian’s gaze is drawn off to the side, to the doors that line only one side of the room. So many options. So many possible traps. So many places for danger to hide in. “Okay,” he says slowly, trying to swallow the trepidation that grows thick in his throat. “We could—Maybe we could check adjacent rooms, stay near but check multiple places at once?” he suggests, even though everything in him prickles, unease nauseatingly settling over him.
“Yeah, okay,” Mumbo doesn’t sound convinced, but it was his idea in the first place, so he relents. “That sounds reasonable.”
Grian glares at him. It doesn’t sound very reasonable to him. But they’re both tired and searching this place inch by inch is going to take ages as-is. They have to make compromises, Grian knows this, but it doesn’t make it any easier. “Fine,” he sighs. “Which side do you want to start with?” 
“It honestly makes no difference,” Mumbo remarks.
“Fine,” Grian repeats, a tad more irritably now. He’s tired, he’s tense, his danger-senses are tingling. He is high-strung, even though he tries to convince himself that they just found something safe, that they’re not out there without shelter, that this is good. “Here, then.” He walks to his left, towards the first set of rooms, and Mumbo immediately follows without a word.
They both fall into something familiar, something orchestrated and practiced. They move quietly, their steps soft, shoulders slightly hunched, one hand always hovering over a weapon in anticipation of a threat. 
As soon as they reach the two sets of doors, they give each other a look and a small nod. Grian can see Mumbo bracing himself. He knows he’s doing the same thing. 
And then he pushes the door open and steps over the threshold of a dark room.
At first, a feeling that he’s alone now sinks into him, even if Mumbo’s just a shout away. He thinks about how he’s going in blindly—they don’t even have torches or anything. Every shadow will make him jumpy, he fully expects this—
Except the room is not as dark as it should be.
And it certainly isn’t as empty as he’d hoped.
It’s the far end of the room that’s flickering with dim, warm light. There’s a candle burning up, its flame a weak, dying thing. Grian’s eyes snag at it at first, drawn by the light like a moth to a flame. There’s something reassuring in the gentle, hot glow of a fire, just for a split second, until he pushes that instinct down and reminds himself that a fire he himself didn’t set is bound to burn him— 
That’s when his gaze swerves to the side.
There’s a person there.
There’s a person.
Grian’s mind short-circuits for three precious seconds, before he reboots. Immediately, he hunches up more. His fingertips find his daggers, a tool as ready for stabbing as for throwing. The other person didn’t notice him yet—clearly, because they start humming some silly, jaunty, way-too-content melody as they look over what seems to be an old leather journal. The hum is interrupted only by huffs of laughter.
This gives Grian enough time to take the stranger in.
He doesn’t like what he finds.
Even in the candlelight, their skin is pale, and there’s an old, dried spot of blood near the corner of their mouth. They’re dressed up a bit too well for the reality they’re living in. 
The candlelight glimmers, catches on something shiny and sharp.
A canine tooth.
Grian takes in a sharp breath. He straightens up, grabs a proper hold of one of the daggers, and he thinks in alarm of Mumbo in the other room—and sure, Mumbo didn’t call out yet, but if there’s one of these guys, there might be more, and—
And Grian needs to warn him right now, even at the cost of blowing his own stealth.
“Mumbo!” he calls out, and he belatedly wonders if this will just call more trouble to them than they can handle. “There’s a monster here!”
There’s a frightened gasp then, a jump and a thud of a journal that was sent flying and hit the floor.
“What?! Where?” An alarmed yelp that sounds across the space isn’t Mumbo’s voice. It’s the stranger’s voice—startled, deep, but oddly soft. 
For a second, Grian thinks maybe he made a mistake. Maybe this person isn’t a monster, if this is their reaction?
The stranger spins around and his eyes land on Grian’s, their gaze locking. He holds a hand to his chest and he heaves a big breath, before he chuckles quietly, a tense and unsteady sound. “Gosh, you scared me.”
“I—what?” Grian stares uncomprehendingly at the reaction.
The man’s lips curl into a cherubic smile, then—innocent and bright and—
Definitely not harmless, given by the two sharp canines and the dried blood at the corner of his mouth.
This drives it in for Grian, erasing all doubts: this person is a vampire.
“Well hello there,” the man says, seamlessly slipping more confidence and charm into his voice, even if the edges of it still echo startled unease. “I didn’t realise I have guests!” His gaze jumps to somewhere past Grian’s shoulder. “How rude of me. Welcome!”
Something touches Grian’s back and he almost jumps out of his skin, shrieking at the touch.
“No! It’s just me!” Mumbo immediately tries to fix his mistake.
“God,” Grian breathes out deeply, everything in him ready to snap as he turns back towards the enigma of a vampire they’re now facing. At least he’s no longer alone in this. “He’s a vampire,” he murmurs to Mumbo, even though he’s fully aware his voice carries all the way across the room.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Mumbo notes, signs of distress colouring his voice.
“Now, now,” the man in front of them—the monster, the vampire—lifts his hands amicably. “There’s no need for alarm. I’m a vegetarian!” he offers cheerily. 
Even though he says that, his gaze lingers on Grian in a way that makes a chill run down his spine.
“A vegetarian,” Grian repeats flatly. He isn’t sure why he’s even entertaining the idea; it’s completely absurd.
“Yes!” the man nods fervently, his smile spreading, all toothy and sharp. “I don’t eat anything with a face!”
The blood stain at the corner of his mouth says otherwise.
“I didn’t know that’s possible,” Mumbo exclaims from behind Grian, a little bit too naively for Grian’s comfort.
“Mumbo, there’s no way he’s telling the truth,” he grumbles at him, annoyed.
“No! No, I am!” the man insists. “I usually tear the face off first.”
He says it so simply, chuckling a little, it completely flabbergasts Grian.
“A—You what?” the words fall past his lips before he can think better of it.
“I tear the face off,” the man repeats with an unbothered shrug of his shoulder. It seems to take him another moment to register the apprehension of the other two people in the room, because he only belatedly hastily adds: “There’s nothing to worry about, really! I haven’t had guests in ages, I’m so happy to have you over!”
“We’re—“ Grian’s mind spins as he tries to process this. “Guests? Over? What? No!”
“Oh.” The man’s shoulders slump in immense sadness—it reeks of solitude, of disappointment, of such sheer unhappiness that it stabs at Grian’s heart.
He knows this is wrong. He knows vampires are charming and manipulative. He knows they have their ways of pulling in their prey, before they inevitably sink their teeth into flesh and bleed them dry. And yet—
And yet.
Something in his heart can’t bear the look of this stranger looking so small and abandoned. Maybe because he himself knows what it feels like, first-hand. Maybe because he knows that if it wasn’t for Mumbo, he’d be completely lost. He can’t begin to imagine staying in a big, empty, dark place all alone for—how long?
His feelings keep snagging on something hot, like that flickering flame of a candle. Something that burns through his veins, singes his heart. Something unsteady and dangerous.
He didn’t know vampires could look lonely.
He hates himself for that swell of empathy. He hates the momentary loss of control. He knows they’re being played now. 
“Look, pal,” he starts, and it’s cautious. He takes a step back, meets Mumbo’s chest and hopes the man realises this is their cue to retreat. “I appreciate the offer, but we’re not staying. Sorry to intrude, we’ll—uh, we’ll leave you to it.” Whatever the it was.
The man is still looking directly at him. There’s something yearning in his eyes. Something heartbroken. He seems to shrink further as he tears his gaze away. “Okay,” he says in a small voice.
Mumbo makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat. He’s still blocking Grian’s retreat.
“Mumbo,” Grian hisses at him.
“Yeah, right, I just—“ Mumbo stammers, indecision wild in his veins. He takes a tentative half-step away, feeling Grian immediately crowd his space again, pressing against him to retreat further.
The man—no, not man, the vampire—looks towards the window contemplatively, before his gaze flicks back to them. “You want to leave?”
“Yes,” Grian confirms immediately. “We’re just gonna go—“
“Where?” the vampire asks, an odd, unreadable inflection in his voice as he takes a singular step forward.
Grian twitches. “Out,” he replies, his voice strained. He presses further against Mumbo, and thankfully Mumbo moves, takes three steps, enough to get them out of the room, but not too many to still be able to catch and steady Grian at the unexpected loss of security. 
The vampire’s eyebrows pull to a concerned scowl. “But it’s dangerous.”
He says it so simply. So staggeringly simply. 
The worst thing about it is, he’s not wrong.
Grian pauses and contemplates this for a moment, then. The outside poses a million potential unknown threats. Here, they’re facing a vampire, but they know how to handle vampires. They could handle one of them. They could— This could still be their best option. 
“Are you alone?” he ventures tentatively.
The vampire gives him a look that says it all. “Yes,” he admits, and it’s not charming, it’s not confident. It’s shaky and it’s open and it’s wounded. Maybe a little bit afraid. “I—Is it so bad I don’t want to be, for a little bit? I promise I’m not dangerous,” he slides straight to bargaining. “You can sleep here! I could, I probably have some food you could eat. I won’t do anything to you, I just—I—“
He looks so, so lost.
“Grian?” Mumbo says quietly, and it comes out a bit wobbly and emotional.
That’s the thing that breaks Grian’s own dangerous tilt of judgement. He looks over his shoulder sharply, frowning. “You can’t be serious.”
“W—well, I mean—“ Mumbo fumbles for words, trying to get some rationality out of his heart. “It’s better than the outside?”
Grian side-eyes the vampire. “We should just kill him.”
“Kill?” the vampire repeats in alarm; the word is laced with false laughter, as if he tried to spin it into a joke. It rings hollow, anxious, untrue. “Noooo, no, there’s no need for that! I like living thank-you-very-much!”
“Living,” Grian repeats flatly, challengingly. “You’re not alive.”
“I am!” the vampire protests vehemently. “I breathe and I bleed and I can die.” He pauses, ponders briefly if making that one point in particular was smart. “I—Well. I can starve and all that and, and, I have feelings!”
Grian stares at him blankly. Something in him is unconvinced, but his heart bashes itself against his ribcage in attempted empathy anyway. “This can't be happening,” he mutters dismally.
“Look, I can, I can show you around! You can decide then! It’s just me here, all alone, there’s plenty of space for you even if you want me to stay away! I can go to a different wing or—or something. I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement?” he proposes, his voice hasty and desperate. “I just. You don’t have to leave.”
Something about the way he says it chips away at Grian’s resolve, strips his caution, leaves him feeling incredibly human in arguably the worst way possible when confronted with a charming monster. Still, he hears himself say, “Okay.”
The vampire perks up immediately. “Okay!” he echoes.
“Okay?” Mumbo repeats with more alarm and unsteadiness.
Grian shoots him a look. “I thought you wanted to do this?”
“W—Well, yes, I just. I didn’t expect you to agree?” he admits sheepishly.
“Mumbo.” Grian is looking at him with a deep frown. “Do you want to stay or do you want to leave?”
“I—I don’t know!” Mumbo cries, indecisiveness rushing wildly through his veins. More than anything, he doesn’t want to be culpable for this decision and its repercussions. 
Grian sighs and lets his gaze slide away. If Mumbo can’t bear the weight of this decision, it now falls back on Grian. It’s a familiar weight. It’s something he needs to shoulder, their fate, their pitfalls. The inevitable guilt of it all. The feeling that whatever he decides might just guide Mumbo to his demise.
He meets the gaze of the vampire, as steadily as he can manage. “Give us the tour.”
Without hesitation, the vampire moves forward, towards the door, towards the room’s exit, towards the rest of the mansion—
Grian flinches at the sudden approach and stumbles a couple of steps back, pulling Mumbo with him, keeping the taller man protectively behind him. 
It makes the vampire pause. “Okay,” he says slowly. “I think we need to lay some ground rules. First of all, introductions. That always helps! I’m Scar!”
Grian blinks, his throat dry with the abruptness of his panic reaction. With the preposterousness of this situation.
“And you are?” the vampire—Scar—prompts.
“I—I’m Mumbo, and this is Grian,” Mumbo stammers for both of them. 
Scar’s eyes spark up and he gives a big smile. “Wonderful! I’m happy to meet you!” The words are silky, charming in a way that lets them easily burrow underneath skin without notice. They’re honest, too, and maybe that’s where they draw their power from—because Scar truly is lonely, in such a deep, raw way, and there’s nothing if not pure relief that his new guests decided to not immediately leave.
He’s tired of feeling like a monster. He’s tired of being alone, unloved, unwanted.
He’s tired of feeling like these old, cracked, dusty walls—empty and abandoned.
His heart beats in his chest in a wild waltz as he approaches the strangers-no-more again, this time careful about where he steps and how close he gets. He maintains a safe distance, giving a tight smile as he passes them, before taking big steps into the open space.
He spins there, buzzing with theatrics and more than a smidge of showmanship, spreading his arms wide. “This is my mansion.”
It’s very easy, Grian finds, to give in. To let Scar reel him in and pull him along. His body follows unquestioningly, taking in room after room after room, dizzyingly trying to slot the information and not get lost amidst it all—his survival instincts scream at him, but the rest of him is just plain tired and, honestly, a little bit lulled after he watches Scar for a while.
Because Scar isn’t lithe and agile, strong and immovable. He isn’t as charming as one would expect of a vampire, either, even if he’s rambly and his tongue is undeniably tinged with silver. He’s cheerful and he’s giggly and he’s, for the lack of a better word, endearing. But more than that, he’s clumsy and forgetful and edging just on the side of nervous.
It puts Grian ill-at-ease, because this isn't what a vampire should be, and that means Grian can't predict him, doesn't know what to expect. 
And yet he keeps following him, watching him, listening to him. 
He should try to pay more attention to the mansion tour and less to the man, maybe. The layout is important. He needs to know exit routes, and the possible sources of danger.
But isn’t Scar a source of danger? Living—or so he claims—and moving and very much capable of harm?
So what if Grian’s gaze lingers on him a little bit too much? What if he focuses on his body language and his tone more than the walls that surround them? 
He tells himself it’s only because he’s being wary.
“You can sleep here,” Scar finally says in a room that has two huge beds, at the very end of the mansion. The hallway that leads to the room ends with a backdoor exit, an easy way out if they feel trapped or—Scar very much wants to not think about it, even if it’s an option he offers freely—if they decide to sneak out.
Scar walks towards the fireplace and he fiddles for a while, struggling to get it lit.
“Here, I can help,” Mumbo offers, moving forward. He produces flint and steel, reaching for the fireplace.
Grian watches Scar flinch away.
His lips purse, taking in the scene. The beds are a comfort they weren’t able to indulge in for a long time. So is the fire, deep at night. A source of light and warmth. There’s a clear exit. Nobody else is in the building. Nothing about this screams it’s a trap. 
And they know how to kill vampires, if push comes to shove.
But they can’t do it if they’re asleep.
He stares at Scar, his gaze prickling the vampire until he turns around and their gazes meet.
Scar offers a tentative, shy smile.
“If there’s anything else you guys need, just let me know,” Scar says then, the words easy on his tongue, unhesitatingly willing to provide for them.
Grian frowns. “What do you need?” he questions instead. “What do you want from us?”
“Nothing!” Scar says immediately.
Grian dismally thinks that’s the first lie he’s heard from him. It’s so easy to identify, it makes everything else startlingly slot in as truth. The awareness of it makes him feel destabilised at his core. He sways a little in his spot, reaches out for the bed frame for support. “That’s—No,” he says weakly, too aware of the green eyes boring into him. “You definitely want something.”
There it is. That heartbreak.
He didn’t know vampires could project heartbreak so well.
Project? Or feel?
Grian finds with increasing panic that he can no longer tell the difference. None of this makes sense. None of this should be happening.
The fire crackles, strong and alive, lapping at the air and throwing a warm, flickering glow over the room as Mumbo takes a step away from it. 
“Oh, you did it!” Scar perks up, his eyes squinting in a smile he throws Mumbo’s way. “That’s wonderful, thank you for your help!”
“Well, I mean, it’s for us, right?” Mumbo sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “And it was easy enough.”
“It always gives me trouble,” Scar admits freely, “dealing with fire. A bit scary, if you ask me.”
“You’re a vampire,” Grian notes flatly. It comes out blank and rough, his suspicions warring with his emotions. “Fire harms you.”
“Yes, well,” Scar meets his gaze. “I like how it glows. I like the warmth.”
Grian continues to stare at him, because he isn’t sure how to actually process all of that. Instead, he takes a breath and presses: “You didn’t answer the question.”
Scar blinks. “What question?”
Grian frowns, but doesn’t relent. “What do you want from us?” 
Scar’s gaze shifts to the fireplace. “The fire harms you, too,” he says, and it’s soft and contemplative, but makes everything in Grian prickle with a warning. “You also get hungry,” Scar continues. “And you need rest, and you need—“ he falls quiet.
“We need?” Mumbo prompts, and he sounds so gentle, so careful.
It makes Scar lift his gaze to him, meet his eyes. There’s hesitation in him, some unknown emotions swirling up, raw and threatening. He swallows hard, before prying his gaze away. “You need safety,” Scar continues, even though his voice is clearly strained, “and I can give you that.”
“What for,” Grian insists. “What do you want for it.”
Green eyes shift to him, and somehow Grian’s heart picks up speed, feeling irrationally guilty at having asked.
“I don’t want anything,” Scar repeats, his voice wavering and quiet.
“Surely you must want something out of this,” Grian insists, even though there’s a lump in his throat and he feels terrible.
Scar looks away, then. He severs their connection, making Grian reel at the sudden lack of it.
“I just,” Scar says, and it’s a half-sigh, it’s a half-whisper, it’s a quiet, tentative, cracked confession. “I thought it might be nice to have some company for a little bit.”
It’s so soft, so vulnerable that it makes Grian feel like the ground was pulled from underneath him. Emotions sway him at the sight of the man—the vampire, he reminds himself futilely—so hunched over and sad. 
He knows how feeling alone in a world that no longer wants you feels like.
He just didn’t count on monsters having actual feelings.
He didn’t count on monsters looking so human.
His heart clogs his throat and he finds himself speechless.
“Were you—“ Mumbo tries to say something, but his voice falters as soon as Scar’s gaze lands on him. There’s a moment of silence, before Mumbo regathers his courage and finishes: “Were you alone for long?”
Scar’s shoulders sag at that. He seems to be crushed underneath some invisible weight. “Yeah,” he says, and the word barely manages to make it past his lips, daunted and small. 
Grian feels his heart slam sharply against his ribs at the confession.
“W—well,” Mumbo looks over at Grian, catching his gaze. He’s hesitant and unsure, but clearly willing and wanting to offer something.
Grian’s eyebrows pull into a frown. His emotions scream one thing at him, but every remaining shred of rationality screams something else. It’s an overwhelming cacophony and he knows he’s the one who’s expected to make the decisions—and then bear the weight of them going wrong—yet he finds himself feeling lost and adrift at this.
Mumbo holds his gaze for a moment longer, before he lets it swivel back to Scar. “We’ve actually never really talked to a vampire before.”
“No,” Scar shakes his head in immediate sympathy. “I wouldn’t imagine you would. They’re not a friendly bunch.”
Something about that statement stabs at Grian’s heart, his eyes still locked on Scar. “Then… Why are you talking to us?”
Scar’s gaze meets his and, again, it makes Grian's heart trip over itself. 
“Because I want friends?” he says, and it’s so open and vulnerable and his voice is thick with emotions, cracking and failing him at the end of his miserable sentence.
Grian takes a sharp breath, fumblingly attempting to remind himself that vampires are dangerous and they’re charmers and they’re manipulators and—
“You can’t mean that,” he says in the end, the words a little bit hoarse.
Scar blinks, confused. “What?”
Grian shakes his head vehemently. “You’re a vampire. We’re just food for you.”
Scar’s eyebrows twitch into a frown, before they smooth out and his face stretches into a smirk. “You do have faces, don’t you? I told you I don’t eat anything with a face.”
“But you could, you know,” Mumbo steps in, “rip the face off or something, as you said.”
Scar’s gaze anchors into his, a displeased curl to his mouth. “I don’t eat my friends.”
“But we’re not friends,” Grian chimes in.
“We could be,” Scar suggests easily, unaware of how threatening that sounds.
(... tbc?)
------- as the title states, this is a wip of a potential story that was put on the backburner because my hands are full. if you want to know more about what kind of things are meant to happen in this au (atm it's just a collection of ideas, rather than any specific outline), or are curious about anything else, feel free to ask! and let me know what you think about it so far <3
if you're curious where this au came from, i recommend you to watch random encounter's "resident enis" videos (there are two). i'm sure you'll see my vision. (the line about not eating anything with a face is there kjxnbkj.)
this was written on a whim and for the longest time, i kept calling it "silly vampire scar au" (in the spirits of resident enis), even though i know the au devolves—as per usual—into heavier topics and angst. it's set in a world riddled with monsters, it's a survival story, pretty much.
fun fact: the working title of this au is called "Silly Vampire Mr GoodTimes"
i need a better name for it though, "vampire scar au" is so generic, and sure it does have a vampire scar in it, but it's not exclusively about him... but i have no idea what else to call it/how to title it (rip) (pls help-)
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kaistrashbin · 9 months ago
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I really like her y'all
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profanepurity · 1 year ago
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Before Belial married Lilith, he had a child with Naamah. They created the first vampire together. I've been super sick and busy, so I haven't been able to do much in terms of art. I wanted to get out way more spooky content this month. Unfortunately, that didn't happen, maybe next year. I do want to try and get out one more thing at least. Thankfully this blog is spooky year-round lol. Belial and Naamah are still really close, and they are very good at co-parenting vampires together.
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mochiwrites · 1 year ago
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— in the cold of night
The only sound that fills the room for a moment is that of the creaking bed springs as Grian sits down on the mattress. He grimaces in pain as he works his black jacket and red jumper off of his body, revealing the medium sized cut on his side. The bleeding isn’t extreme, the wound itself isn’t even major. But it is unpleasant. He groans, either in frustration or pain, or maybe even both.
In the candle light, he looks around the room, brows knitting together as he does. It’s as if he’s looking for something.
“Here.” A white box is held out to him, and Grian looks up at his partner gratefully.
“Thanks, Scar.”
He sets the box down on the bed, flicking it open and grabbing a bottle of antiseptic and a roll of bandages.
While he does this, Scar returns to his spot in the furthest corner of the room, the one closest to the window. He leans against the wall, arms crossing over his chest. He tries to look at anywhere that isn’t Grian.
Grian pops the cap off the bottle before grabbing hold of a cloth. He douses it, heart beating nervously in his chest all the while. “This is always my least favorite part,” he grumbles, body already tensing up, bracing for the stinging pain that will appear.
“Well, if you got injured less…” Scar quips, glancing at his fellow hunter.
“It isn’t my fault monsters like to think I’m an easy target.” Grian gives him a little glare, though it’s one without any real heat. He inhales sharply as he presses the cloth against his wound, hissing with quiet pain. Almost instantly does his side begin to feel sore, but it needs to be done in order to avoid infection. “Scar, can you—”
“Already ahead of you, G,” Scar says as he’s suddenly appearing at Grian’s side, a bottle with a glowing liquid inside.
Grian smiles gratefully at him before he continues to clean his wound. When he finishes it, he sets the now bloodied cloth aside and reaches for the bottle Scar holds. He opens it and takes a few careful sips of the regeneration potion. The effect is near instant, with the pain in his side dulling to a soft ache. He’s left sore and a bit tired. Grian sets the rest of the potion on the nightstand before grabbing the roll of bandages.
It’s a lengthy process, wrapping his own wound. His eyes feel a bit heavy (“Stupid potion always makes me feel so tired.”), and the end of the bandage slips from his grasp a few times.
Scar can’t bring himself to watch, keeping his head firmly to the side. He tries to ignore the sweet scent filling the room, wafting through right to his nostrils. He digs his fingers into his arms, forcing himself to keep a clear head. No.
When Grian finally finishes with the bandages, he ties it off with a small knot and lets out a sigh of relief. Haphazardly does he pack everything up and toss the white box onto the nightstand. He grabs a new clean shirt from his bag and throws it on before glancing out the window. The moon is high in the sky. Scar is back to standing by it.
Grian frowns. He finds himself passing his hunter an almost longing look before settling himself into bed, pulling the covers up. He shuts his eyes.
Scar is left alone, his only company being his thoughts. He replays the events from earlier over and over in his mind, remembering how terrifying it had been to see Grian attacked by the monster they were hunting.
He bites his lip.
A part of him aches to feel Grian’s warmth pressed against him, some kind of reminder that he’s there. But Scar is scared. He doesn’t trust himself to remain in control. He doesn’t trust himself to not hurt Grian.
And yet the still part of him that’s human craves the contact. The comfort.
Unsure, Scar glances over to Grian’s sleeping form. He watches the way his body moves in time with his breathing, and he can’t help it. He’s a very weak man.
Grian is just starting to drift off when he barely registers the bed dipping and a weight joining him. He feels a slight warmth against his back as arms wrap around him and he’s pulled close. He sleepily sets a hand over the scarred one resting on his stomach, placed ever so carefully to avoid his wound. There’s a relieved little smile that finds its way onto his face as he feels Scar nuzzle his hair.
“You have to stop scaring me like that, Grian,” Scar murmurs.
“I will when y’stop doing that to me,” Grian huffs. “Now go t’sleep.”
“Yessir.” But Scar doesn’t sleep. He spends the whole night awake, just to be sure he doesn’t hurt Grian.
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hopepetal · 1 year ago
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imagine, little boatem vampires Pearl ends up wandering outside, whoever was watching her looked away just for a second and when they turned back around she was just, gone. of course everyone immediately all starts freaking out and frantically searching for her. she turns up of course, perfectly fine but hours later, just outside the house.
You didn't ask for writing but I wanted to write anyway.
vampires!au rambles
“She's gone,” the first words that leave Grian's mouth after he rushes– breathless and terrified, paler than Mumbo– into the house make Impulse immediately snap to attention, nearly dropping the book he was reading. He jumps to his feet, eyes wide as he quickly sets the book down and crosses the room to Grian. “I just– I looked away, for one second I swear–!”
“Calm down,” Impulse soothes, reaching out and resting a hand on Grian's arm. “Take a deep breath. Tell me what happened.”
Grian leans against the counter, chest heaving. “Pearl and I were outside, and she was playing like normal, and I decided to just look away for a second and now she's gone and I can't find her anywhere and her scent just–” He throws up his hands to run them through his hair angrily– “gone! Somehow she's just disappeared!”
Impulse swallows, taking in the information as he nods. “Okay. Okay. Go get Scar and Mumbo, we're going to go look for her.”
With an urgency the vampires hadn't felt since the time Pearl got sick for the first time, they split up and began to search through their house, yard, and then the surrounding territory. The full moon lit their way as they searched the forest, a soft glow illuminating the leaves a silvery green. Light wasn't necessary, given that they were all able to see in the dark, but it certainly did help.
The moon was high in the sky by the time the vampires regrouped, still without Pearl and no clue as to where she went or how she disappeared.
Grian bites back tears as he leans against Mumbo, who gazes down at him anxiously. “This is all my fault,” he whimpers, sniffling softly.
Scar frowns, brow creasing as he wraps an arm around Grian's shoulders. “It's okay, Gri. We'll find her. She can't have gone far. We might've just missed her.” He doesn't sound convinced. He wants to be, though.
Impulse slowly nods. “We should keep looking. She has to be around here somewhere.”
Hours pass as they continue their search, ending unsuccessfully back at the house as the moon begins to set. Grian is sobbing openly, gasping out apologies as Mumbo tries to comfort him, and Impulse and Scar begin quietly discussing calling Gem to see if she could help find their lost daughter.
The sun begins to peak over the horizon, and with it an excited giggle rings out over the yard. The vampires jump, looking up to see Pearl, looking none the worse for the wear and bouncing on her feet.
Grian runs to her so quickly he's just a blur, scooping her up with a shout. “Pearlie! Oh, oh, Pearl, don't you ever do that again!” he scolds through tears, holding her close.
Pearl whines softly and leans her head against Grian's shoulder as the rest of the vampires join him, looking up at her family with big eyes. She seems to understand that something is wrong, and her happiness turns to sorrow and remorse. “...sorry,” she mumbles, before pressing her face into Grian's shoulder.
Impulse sighs fondly, gently ruffling her short hair. “Oh man. It's okay, Pearl,” he reassures her, not wanting her to get too upset, “you went on a big adventure, huh? Are you a little sleepy, then?”
Pearl nods, kicking her feet slightly. “Yeah...” she mumbles, snuggling further against Grian. “Wanna nap.”
Impulse nods and looks up at Grian. “Do you want me to take her, or do you wanna get her to bed?”
Grian gently bounces Pearl in his arms, rocking from side to side. “I'll do it,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving Pearl.
Impulse shares looks with Scar and Mumbo before nodding once more. “Alright. Thanks, G.”
Pearl doesn't ever do that again, but the vampires never forget the scare they had that night.
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