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blitheringbongus · 1 hour

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Hey so I played with their designs last year and forgot to post it soo- here! :D

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blitheringbongus · 7 hours

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a comic about a button

#would

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blitheringbongus · 1 day

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So I recently found a Drabble I made about this post I made about my AU of Mumbo

It’s about Mumbo and his husband dealing with Mumbo being a vampire <3

Tw: Bunch of mentions about God and a few about Blood Letting

Enjoy? Or not

„My dear, eternal life wasn’t intended for humans to be lived,“

The man, his love, had said. Rough and scarred hands gently cradling the fresh vampires head. „Not how God intended it to be, at last,“

„Then why am I like this? If not for God to have intended?“ His fragile frame had responded. He felt weak. His body struggled to pump blood through his veins, it was clumping together and ceasing as the days passed, and he was hungry, so hungry. How cruel God could be.

„My love,“ the human responded, Mumbo had forgotten his name, the memory was too old, but he’s never forgotten who this human was, and what he meant to him. „This,“ the human looked sorrowfully at Mumbos sickly face, at the deep purple, almost black, veins laying still, „Is because not a creature of God has touched you, but a creature of darkness. Of the night.“

He stroked his thumb gently over Mumbos cheek, wiping away a tear. „You’ve been diseased, my love, with forever life.“

The raven haired man- Creature? Monster? Shuddered.

If God truly was the creator of all, then they were cruel to create the night creatures. What kind God would do such a thing, if not to punish the wretched?

„I am wretched,“ „You aren’t,“

He looked the human in his eyes, and they held nothing but kindness and love and deep, deep sorrow. „You’re still my love, you’re still-„

Mumbos memory always faded whenever someone mentioned his previously owned name, it was frustrating.

„I won’t leave you, not until you’ve tasted the last breath of air on your living tongue,“ Mumbo had said back then, and he meant it.

„I don’t doubt it a second.“

And Mumbo knew this human was scared. Not of him, but of growing old with him. They had many talks, the following years.

The human, his human, was afraid of Mumbos sorrow, watching him growing old and grey, and Mumbo staying the same as the day he got diseased.

But the years they spent, they were good years.

They lived together in a cabin in the woods, having moved out of their Victorian town, there wasn’t a slither of a chance the people wouldn’t hunt him down and call him a nasty hag, a devils bride, so his love and he decided to leave as soon as the physical symptoms started appearing.

The two hunted together, and they cooked together, and Mumbo couldn’t eat the finished meals but he was always able to suck the blood out of the hunted prey.

They never hunted humans, not in a million years. It didn’t matter how many folk tales there were of vampires only hunting humans and nothing else, Mumbo could live off of the animal blood.

Though it kept him going, it wasn’t exactly healthy for him. It didn’t keep him full for long, and always kept him yearning and weak for the blood of another.

Deep down, he was still human. He may be classified as a vampire, but at the end of the day, he was simply diseased, not changed into a monster. It took him quite some time to realize, his lovers reassurances and gentle nature having helped a lot with it.

The two always talked about their issues together. Whenever something was bottling itself up, the other would notice and try to gently push one another to open up.

One of these things included Mumbos need for human blood. His love didn’t know about wether or not Mumbo could only thrive off of animal blood, but he certainly knew something was wrong, and his love was never if barely satisfied with his so called meals.

He gently pushed him to talk about it for months and months until Mumbo finally confessed.

„I have morals,“ „Yes?“ „I would never feed on a sentient being,“ „Oh,“ and Mumbo could see the cogs twist and turn in his lovers face. „Have you had urges?“

Mumbo shifted slightly under their shared bed sheets, it was night, and he was more hungry than ever.

„Too many.“

And Mumbo left it at that, he just needed to confess it.

„You could feed on me?“

Looking back, this was the most ballsy statement Mumbo has ever heard from anyone before. At least conscidering the context. Sure, he fed on a couple of the hermits nowadays to stay healthy and all, but that’s because they all knew just how much Mumbo could take before dizziness or anything set in.

Plus, if he ever went too far, they could always respawn! Not that Mumbo ever did go that far.

But the point is, research about blood letting and how much a vampire needs a day to stay healthy is readily accessible to the hermits and himself, so it was safe.

Back then? Not so much.

He and his love had no idea what was conscidered safe and what not, so the fact that he’d just offer letting Mumbo feed on him was the most trusting, romantic, and stupid decision he’s ever heard be made from anyone in his life time and following. And he loved him so much more for it.

„My dear,“ „My love?“ „I’m not sure if I should, I’m not sure if I could,“