🍰 cheweycat 🐾

[Authors note: prepare for blood drinking!!] [ song for this chapter!]

“Did you… love Scar?” Mumbo swallowed. Grian hummed, “Maybe, at some point at some time. It's been a long time since then,” Grian’s eyes never left the sky, staring at the twinkling stars. “After he died, it took a long time to accept that he was gone. I mean, I did eventually move on. But even then, you don't truly do,” Grian turned his head, meeting Mumbo’s gaze, “I still care about him if that's what you’re asking.” Mumbo’s hand rested in Grian’s, their fingers interlocking. Despite Grian’s avoidance of Mumbo's confession, it seemed everything was ok. The world was quiet, a soft hush over the forest as crickets and frogs sat silently. The world sat as if it too was listening to their conversation. It was fairly well into the night, nothing illuminating them other than the fireflies and the stars above. Mumbo shifted a bit uncomfortably. He didn’t understand exactly Grian’s avoidance of his question. Was he not clear enough? Mumbo felt he was being quite to the point, he just wished Grian would have at least responded to his confession. A twinge of regret sat in his chest.  Maybe it was a bit too soon to confess his feelings to Grian. Not to his fault, of course. There could have been no way of knowing that Grian lost someone he loved. Though, could Grian have been scared of losing him? Was Grian scared of him dying as much as he was? 

Soon enough, it was time to depart. Grian pried himself from the cold blades of glass. “You should probably get some rest Mumbo.” He said with huff. 

On closer inspection, Mumbo seemed tired—staring as if he had never heard the term of sleep before. After a few blinks, Mumbo shook his head and chuckled.

“Oh! Yes, of course... It's gotten very late, hasn’t it?” Mumbo's voice came out wearily. He sits up, his knees huddled close to his chest. Looking up, he couldn’t help but stare at Grian’s shadow looming over him. With his wings outstretched and hand held out to him, he was framed perfectly in the moonlight. Mumbo’s heart raced with a sudden urgency, almost screaming out to him. Mumbo’s brows furrowed for a moment, for he was unsure exactly where this feeling was coming from. Why did he feel as though he was losing time? Mumbo decided to chalk it up to anxiety.

Hesitant, he placed his gloved hand in the palm of Grian’s, grabbing hold and hoisting himself up. The air was thick, full of anticipation. It had been a moment before the two realized they were just standing in silence, staring at each other. 

“Grian,” Mumbo drew out, “There’s... still more I haven't said...” His eyes landed onto the blonde’s lips for a moment before quickly turning his head away, eyebrows furrowing. “Could we erm...” His voice trailed off, shoulders slumping over. “Let’s continue this conversation in the morning, shall we?” Grian gave a small reassuring smile, his hands grip tightening. Almost as if to say he wasn’t going anywhere. Not again. It was a small gesture, but a genuine one. Mumbo’s hand squeezed as well, his fingers curling into Grian’s palm, almost to tell him the same thing. That, he too, wasn’t letting Grian go anywhere. Never again. 

Darkness. Even with his avoidance of sleep, Mumbo found himself not able to escape its comfortable solitude. These dreams were now fairly common for Mumbo. Despite this, they were still hard to get used to. His body was frozen in a limitless dark void. Every movement took an immense amount of energy, leaving him breathless. It was easier to lay still, just more so terrifying. His heart was racing, but he had complete assurance that he would be safe. Surely Grian would once again find him in this sanctum spot, then he would wake—just like every other time. The same routine. It was beginning to become tiring. A soft sigh of relief escaped him as a trinkling of a bell echoed through the ether. His time of silent solitude would come to an end. Mumbo laid still, eyes shut, hands cradled in his own blankets. With a shift of weight, his view was met with a golden, holy glow. A bright smile slipped upon its face, its expression twisted. “Hello, my starlight,” Its voice drawled out a bit with a growl. His hair was displaced as if it was dragging its fingers through it with frustration. “Did you miss me? It's been a while, hasn’t it?” The golden figure plopped himself beside Mumbo, now laying on his bed. ‘My love, didn’t we see each other just moments ago?’ Mumbo’s brows furrowed, yet his lips remained shut. Looking out to the ether, it was a familiar sight. From his bed the darkness stretched forever, and although it was hard to tell, it seemed as if they were looking at the very same night sky from earlier. The only thing illuminating them was the angel's soft warm glow. “Mumbo, do you remember a few seasons ago?” The angel hummed softly. He continued before Mumbo could reply. “Everything seemed so new to me then. Despite everything I went through, every day was a new adventure.” It smiled fondly, leaning his weight onto Mumbo as he laid his golden head on his chest. For a moment, the godly figure sat still and listened to Mumbo’s heart begin to race. A small chuckle emerged from the god, “So much has happened since then. We have been through so much together, you and I. Ever since our souls became one.” Mumbo’s heart was pounding. What on earth did Grian mean by that? “Y-You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean.” Mumbo cleared his throat from choking out the words. His face was pure red at this point. He wouldn't want his own confession to pressure Grian into accepting his feelings. If Grian loved him, he wanted it to be real. “Oh, but I do mean it,” The god sat up to scoot closer. His hair floated softly in the air. “That was my happiest day, intertwining with your soul. Now we’re inseparable.” Its fingers interlocked with Mumbo’s, softly holding it before kissing his gloved hand. “We could truly be together, forever,” slowly, the angel pulled away. Its expression shifted, brows twitching. “At least, that's what I want. Don’t you?” Mumbo sat breathless, hand twitching. Sitting still was pure torture, how his body screamed to jump in excitement. He started to sweat.  “Of course I do!....” He strained.

A soft sigh escaped the angel, then a smile slipped on its face. “Good.” he whisked his hand in the air. With a swift movement, it pulled out a quill. “After you fall asleep, I’ll make sure that we will be.” Prying himself off the bed, the angel gave one last glance to Mumbo. “I love you.” 

‘I loved you long before the potion’ — Was he mad?! Mumbo began to pace frantically in his room, clasping his hand over his mouth while his tail flicked frantically. As he gathered his clothing and thoughts, memories flooded back to him from the previous night. He just upright and confessed his love for Grian without a second thought. Sure, he was caught up in the emotions of it all, but it was WAY too forward! His palms were starting to sweat… and his body was starting to ache. It has been a few weeks since he had any body pains. Maybe it was just his body getting accustomed to being new and refreshed? Luckily, he still had the braces he used to keep doing redstone. At his dresser, Mumbo rummaged through a few of the bins on top of it. He pulled out a few wrenches and pencils, putting them out of the way before pulling out two large golden arm braces. They were light and thin, allowing Mumbo to clamp them over his arms, then grabbed a screwdriver to lock the bolts in place. Various papers laid out on his bedroom walls. Scraps and notes from other Hermits he had  gathered throughout the years, little mementos that warmed his heart. At first, he started collecting them as keepsakes, but after finding out about his illness, he wasn't sure when and if he would be better again. These last few weeks of Grian’s avoidance were driving him a bit mad. The thought of never seeing Grian again, or any of the other Hermits, was terrifying to say the least. He would try to cling onto anything that he had at this point. More recently, he had been collecting a few things from Grian: feathers, notes, plus other various bits and bobs. Anything that could have once been Grian’s and could hold some importance, Mumbo would instinctually grab hold of and place gently into his pocket. He couldn’t quite put to words exactly why he needed to do this. It just made him feel better. Safer. Something in the back of his mind would call out to him, telling that if he held these things, maybe Grian would come back for some of them. Maybe that would give them some sort of an excuse to talk. But now that they had reconnected, he wasn’t sure exactly why he needed to keep these things. He just needed to. Unconsciously grimacing, Mumbo’s heels swiveled, his feet now guiding him to his bathroom. Now wasn’t the time to be worrying about that, he would surely figure something out. Right now, he needs to focus on getting ready. Hopefully Grian wouldn’t notice all the mementos on the wall. Reaching over the sink, he grabbed the mirror and opened it. His hand fumbled through a few colognes and oils in the cabinet before settling on a scent. He opened a few of the bottle caps, sniffling them, humming softly from the aroma. At least being a fruit bat had some perks, one of them having a strong sense of smell. Mumbo stifled a laugh as he peered into his reflection.

It was funny in retrospect: If he were a vampire, wouldn’t he be invisible in the bathroom mirror? He probably should have noticed something was amiss then. Mumbo placed some pomegranate oil into his palms, lathering his hands together. As his fingers combed through the strands of his hair, his face fell as he saw it. Near the base of his scalp, a few strands of grey hair. Mumbo now leaned in close to the mirror, nearly pressing his face against its surface. Surely, he was mistaken. It couldn’t be, could it? Another white hair? At this point, Mumbo was fed up with this mirror—always filled with filthy surprises. Might as well trash the whole thing and throw it away! Mumbo grumbled as a million thoughts crossed his mind. How could this happen? Mumbo thought he made a deal with... well, Grian! Didn’t Grian make him into a fruit bat? Why is he greying again all of the sudden?! He groaned in exacerbation with an admixture of confusion. He was so tired, he just wanted this to be fixed. To be over with. What was the point of any of this? In a fit of his own frustration, the sound of his front door completely misses him. A familiar blonde face, right on time.

“Mumbo?” Grian called out, looking into the dark home. His hand cusped over his mouth. “You weren't answering, so I'm coming in!”  The house was eerily quiet, only the squeaks of the floor boards underneath Grian’s footing could be heard. Grian began to search through the various doorways before ultimately ending up in the living room. Usually Mumbo would have been at his desk working on some sort of project, but his chair sat empty. What was even more curious was that the clocks on the wall were now in various states of disrepair. Most of them were either off time, a few of them dead, or not working completely. It was unlike Mumbo to leave them in such a state. Slowly, Grian’s feet instinctively carry on from the eerie room. “Mumboooo?” He drew out.

Mumbo's body curled in itself as he leaned onto the sink. His head and mind spun, an overwhelming sense of nervousness and nausea clogging his senses. That was until a familiar smell began to waft into the room. The hairs on his tail began to stand on end, making his body jolt awake from the scent. For a moment, Mumbo figured it was the oil on his hands, lifting his left hand to his nose and smelling it. His eyebrows knotted as he concluded the smell was definitely not coming from there. 

It was sickingly sweet, resembling that of an apple. “Mumbo?” “AH!” The taller man yelped, twisting around to meet Grian face to face. A wave of deja vu washed over him. “You have GOT to stop just—running into my bathroom!” Mumbo stood up straight, desperately trying to comb over his hair. Grian subsided his laughter, sighing, “Sorry! Sorry, for barging in, I just... It’s weird, but I actually do feel a bit better after talking yesterday.” Mumbo paused, lifting his head to meet his gaze, “I don’t think I've ever really talked to anyone about… That.” Grian gave a small smile, tucking his hands underneath his arms, “I was just excited and I wanted to come see you.” “I—Uh... Well, of course! I'm always here to listen!” Mumbo stammered before using one of his hands to lean on his sink. He forces a smile. His tail told a different story, flickering uncontrollably. His other hand was quick to grab it, clenching it into his fist. “What’s the matter?” “Hm?” Mumbo’s ears perked up. “You’re not being exactly subtle, Mumbo. You’re acting weirder than usual, Is something wrong?” Grian squinted, now watching the man’s tail. Mumbo's fingers are quick to let it go, it now sheepishly curling around his leg. “Whaaat? No... well—I mean—no! Of course not. No.” Mumbo’s mustache made a curl as he, once again, forced another smile. His cheeks were starting to hurt.

One thing Mumbo wasn’t good at was being a liar, he was practically already sweating. Mumbo’s feet shuffled in place; he hated standing in one spot, and he hated lying to Grian more. It was pretty obvious, and he was just waiting for Grian to call him out on it. But how on earth was he supposed to admit to Grian this was happening to him? If he just told Grian plainly that he thought he was dying, Grian would immediately think it was his fault! And in all honesty, Mumbo wasn't quite sure if it was or wasn't.

“I'm just uhh… a bit... Light headed! Yes, light headed. I can’t think straight!” Mumbo chuckled, albeit a bit nervously. His hands fumbled around as he began to put away the bottle of hair oil. “Lightheaded...? What, do you need water? Are you hungry?” Grian cocked his head to the side. “Hungry? Noooo.” Mumbo stumbled, knocking a few things off of his sink—quickly grabbing them before they hit the ground. “Wait—hungry?” Mumbo repeated again, pausing for a moment. Now that Grian mentioned it, he was a bit peckish. His tail unraveled from his leg, now tapping on the ground. Grian’s eyes trailed back to Mumbo’s tail. His brows pinched as he reached down and grabbed it. He carefully inspected the fur at the end. “Are you greying again?” 

The taller man’s face grew bright red.

“Eep!” Mumbo yanked his tail from him, He glanced at it, which now had a massive white streak. Quickly snapping his head back to Grian, he flashed a nervous grin. “I swear I planned on explaining everything! Just... you were avoiding me...” Mumbo tensed his shoulders. His hands began to wring onto his tail, holding it tightly to his chest, “I also wasn’t sure if it was something I should bring up after, well, yesterday. I didn’t want you to think that this is your fault because I don't even know what went wrong! It was all well and fine—” His mouth opened once again before sighing. Grian knew the feeling all too well. Mumbo wasn’t asking for help because he didn't want to burden anyone, to make them worry. Grian’s feet shuffled in place as he looked around. “Look, you can be sorry later. Let's just figure out what’s going on.” Grian walked over to Mumbo, gently placing his palm on his back. He began to guide him out of the bathroom. Grian dropped himself into Mumbo’s bed, bouncing slightly from the springs. Meanwhile, Mumbo gently placed himself beside Grian. Mumbo turned to the blonde to speak but before he could, Mumbo’s senses were overwhelmed. That apple smell was definitely coming from Grian (not that Mumbo was complaining). The sweet smell kept making his stomach grumble and making him want to sneeze. Was it some sort of perfume? Cologne? “So, what's the issue? Are you just losing your hair?” The blonde leaned in a bit, slowly inching closer. “No!… Well, yes? Erm... It's a lot more complicated than that.” Mumbo pulls his tie out from his suit and fiddles with it. Mumbo stammered; he had been dealing with this virus for so long, he didn’t even know where to start. Would Grian be upset he kept this from him for so long? Finally, swallowing a lump in his throat, he managed to speak. “I’ve been…I don’t know how, I don't know why, but I've started… aging…” The taller man's eyes met the others, his expression almost pleading for him not to get upset. “Alright...” Grian’s voice was low, trying to hold himself back and not freak out. “So that’s when you decided to become a vampire...” “Yes!” Mumbo raised his voice in relief that Grian understood him. “If I was going to die, I wanted to live forever!” He now smiled a bit wildly, sitting taller. “But then… you turned into a fruitbat.” Grian motioned to Mumbo’s ears.  “Yes, well… uhm.” Mumbo quickly shut his mouth, his ears tilting back. “And in the end, it didn’t even work out?” Grian lifted an eyebrow. He's heard it all before (or more so lived it all before). He then gave a bit of an unamused look, almost as if this was the exact situation Grian was trying to help Mumbo avoid. “You’re still sick?” Mumbo stared at him, pausing for a moment before slowly nodding. “Is that why you messed up the potion?” Mumbo chuckled, wringing his hands together.

Grian pinched the bridge of his nose, moving his glasses. He gave out an exacerbated sigh. Mumbo was lucky enough to have only messed with a potion and not end up like him. Grian’s tail now began to flick, thumping on the bed. “Well, I don't understand why it didn’t work! It was all seemingly fine, well up to this morning!” Mumbo’s tail flicked in annoyance. He ran his fingers through his hair and grumbled to himself. “That’s what happens when you mess with things you don’t understand, Mumbo.” The taller man huffed, letting his hands fall into his lap. This is exactly why he stuck to redstone. It was dependable and easy to understand, each question was a wire he could easily untangle. There just had to be some sort of sound logic to this, right? Mumbo’s brows furrowed. Slowly, Mumbo pried himself off of the bed, arms crossed. If only there was something he was missing—some sort of red string to connect all the dots. His tail flicked as he began to pace around the room. There had to be some sort of method to this madness. There just had to. Mumbo’s gaze landed at the foot of his bed, remembering the dream from the previous night. He remembered how when the angel moved it glittered, and small tricklings of bells would emit from his figure. With swift graceful movements, Grian pulled out a golden feather from thin air. Grian’s smile was fond and his words sincere. Grian, golden and shimmering, standing before him in his room. Mumbo could almost see him.

“Mumbo?” Grian frowned, nervously peeking over to whatever had the other’s attention. For a moment, Mumbo was just staring into nothingness, right at the foot of his bed. Mumbo did mention he was light headed and he looked sort of pale. Maybe he was just hungry. “When’s the last time you ate?” On closer inspection, it looked as if Mumbo hadn’t slept in days. His eyebags were dark and heavy, eyes almost sunken in.

Mumbo blinked, shaking his head. He grumbled softly to himself as if he didn’t hear the question. "There's just... Something missing. I feel like the solution is staring me right in the face.” His ears twitched, turning his head in Grian’s general direction,  “When this all started, I made the potion with the intention of becoming immortal. Do you think somehow interfering with that made... Them? Upset?” Mumbo pointed up into the air, his eyes squinted in trying to remember the name. “What was it—Watchers?”

Grian’s face dropped, his tail now laid still on the bed. “....What does that have to do with anything?”  Mumbo backtracked from his sudden demeanor. “Well, h-hold on! I swear I brought it up for a reason!” Mumbo’s legs guide him to stand above Grian. “From what you have told me, the way they work is… sort of simple, really. You ask for something, they give it to you with a price. It comes out twisted, or it's fulfilled in some unexpected way,” Mumbo once again began to pace around his room, his hands wringing each other. “I, erm, hate to bring this up—but you know the world you created?” Mumbo turned to face Grian, “ You said something about the fact that it had a set story,” His brows furrowed as he tried to recall, “No matter what you did, the story just continued.” Grian’s shoulders began to relax, his eyes drifting away from Mumbo and landing on the floor. The logic wasn’t far off. A small hum escaped him as he gave it a bit more thought. He never really considered the possibility of each world he entered having their own set stories. Grian always knew the world he made with Scar was a story of his own but was there a possibility that this world ran by the same logic? Each Hermitcraft Server did end up having their own stories to tell, but Grian assumed that happened naturally. Did this mean that everything that has happened was planned from the start? Is that why Midas was so angry? Grian had no choice other than to participate in the story he created. Was Mumbo doomed to the same fate? “You’re saying since the Watchers had something planned with you, and I interfered. That's why you think this is happening?” Grian’s voice wavered, “How am I going to help at all? Won’t I just make things worse?” Mumbo froze, his ears drawing back. His mouth opened to say something, but all that came out was a huff. Holding his hand under his chin to think, he tried his best to think of anything to say, but his mind just kept racing. He then remembered the dream he had. A beat of silence passed through the room before Mumbo sprang up at the question. “Wait. Maybe that’s it!” Mumbo’s hands grasped the avian’s, squeezing them tightly, making Grian pull back in surprise. Their eyes locked in on each other. “Grian! Remember when I kept changing to various creatures because I was eating them? HA! The answer WAS staring at me the whole time!! YOU! You’re the solution!” 

commission by: d0not-disturb (Tumblr/Tiktok)

Grian smiled nervously, squirming in the other's grip. “Uh...” He wanted to speak, but nothing came out. Partially out of shock, but mostly from confusion. Mumbo began to smile, his eyes were completely locked on his own, making Grian sink back even further. “Grian, when I ate you, our souls became one—exactly as you said! What if the solution is the exact same? What if...” His eyes darted to the other's neck. There was a twinge of guilt in his expression before quickly looking away. A pink hue cascades over him. “Seriously?” Grian groaned. 

It made Mumbo yank his hands away in turn, holding them to his chest. A sigh escaped Grian.

“No, no. I'm not mad at you. It just makes way too much sense… Of course they would stoop to something as stupid as this.” Grian’s hand crept his way to his own neck, preemptively trying to protect it. 

Despite his facial expression, Grian’s heart was now racing. The thought of Mumbo getting that close, the thought of his teeth against his skin. He shuffled uncomfortably on the bed. No, he didn't want this. At least, he couldn’t admit it. This is exactly what Midas would have wanted and there was no way he was giving in so easily. Yet if he were to deny this, would Mumbo’s illness just get worse again? “I know you’re hesitant, and I completely understand, but I think there's a method to this. There's a logic to how their rules work.” Mumbo now sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, looking up at Grian. His tail instinctively interlocked with the other’s, the gesture making Grian falter a little. His expression softened. “If we can figure that out, I know for a fact you could create magnificent things. You can choose to use your power to create something extraordinary. Something wonderful! You could make worlds that can bring joy and excitement to others. You could summon creatures that no one thought of. You could make—” Mumbo's voice lowered–swallowing the lump in his throat, “—something that could help someone like me?” “I… Uhm.” Grian’s tail tightened and coiled around Mumbo’s. His stomach twisted into knots, staring into his golden irises. God, his heart was now racing. Mumbo was keenly aware of this fact. Mumbo's ears twitched as Grian’s heartbeat practically thumped like a drum. It was a beautiful symphony. “You can choose to use your power for something good.” Mumbo repeated. He watched Grian expectantly, his eyes flickering. With a beat of hesitation, Grian let out a shaky sigh. “Fine, I guess I'm willing to try anything once,” He placed his hands onto his lap and turned his head, revealing his neck to the man. Grian felt himself swallow hard... Part of him was already regretting this decision, his stomach feeling uneasy. “If… If this goes wrong, we stop instantly. Got it?” Mumbo’s eyes widened. He had never seen Grian in such a vulnerable position before. This was now a whole new level of trust. The intimacy was one thing, but for Grian to trust his word and to let down his walls for just a moment? Mumbo swallowed the lump in his throat and used his palms to propel himself off the ground. 

“You have my word. I promise.”  He wouldn’t dream of breaking that trust. 

Placing himself beside Grian, the weight of the bed shifted, dipping the two closer together. They didn’t dare make a sound. The squeak of the bed made them shuffle with uncertainty. “Are-Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Mumbo murmured. God, of course Mumbo wanted this. He would love nothing more. Being this close, he was starting to have second thoughts. He really wished this could have been done under better circumstances. Yet Grian kept his neck exposed. Grian shakily inhales. “I want… to get over my fear of them. I’ve been running away for so long, it's becoming tiring. I wanted nothing more than to create. I just...” His eyes glossed over, lost in thought. His voice trailed off, glancing at Mumbo. His expression faltered once again, quickly snapping his head away with a sigh. “I just hope you’re right.” Mumbo almost falters “Same here.” 

Inching closer, he adjusted his position to place his hands besides Grian on the bed. Mumbo’s mustache gently grazed against the crook of Grian’s neck. His warm breath cascaded against Grian’s skin, making a small shiver run down his spine. For a moment, Mumbo sat in place. The two sat in an uncomfortable silence as their hearts pounded in rhythm. Grian began to shuffle in place, tilting his head back. “Are you… going to do something?” Mumbo inched away. “Well, I-I’m getting there!” His voice raised in a squeak; in all fairness, he really didn’t expect to get this far. Grian was practically in his palms, and the two men were now tangled in a sweaty nervous mess. In retrospect, he wished he studied vampires a bit longer. Maybe his book would have shown him the correct way to drink from someone without fully harming them. Leaning closer, his lips pressed into Grian’s neck–his skin warm and soft. ‘Am I doing this right?’ Mumbo’s eyes closed with a sigh. A soft small gasp managed to escape the avian, Grian’s hand reaching from behind and softly grabbing a hold of Mumbo’s head in anticipation. From how Grian was reacting, things seemed to be going well. Baring his teeth, Mumbo sank them into Grian's skin. He applied a small amount of pressure, then, slowly, fully sank them in. A grunt of pain sounds from Grian’s mouth. Grian hissed through his teeth, closing his eyes tightly as he tried to handle the pain. Mumbo’s gloved hand glided over and gently clasped over Grian’s own clawed hand. He methodically rubbed his thumb over the other's worn palm as he guided Grian through the pain. Soon, Grian began to relax, sighing softly in relief as Mumbo finally began to remove his teeth from the inflicted wound. As Mumbo pulled away, his eyes flickered to a familiar sight. Coming from the puncture wound, a golden sap and a delicious, sickly-sweet smell. His tongue grazed against his teeth, swallowing what little amount of blood he had in his mouth. Is that what he had been smelling this whole time? Grian’s blood? He started to feel shameful from how hungry he was becoming. Yet he couldn’t help himself, diving into the wound. Mumbo would just have to make sure not to over do it, he just needs enough to fix himself. Grian’s face felt hot. He wanted nothing more than to continue, to tell Mumbo his feelings.... but maybe after all of this he would. After he was absolutely sure everything would be ok.