Also, if you think that the only valid forms of abuse are physical ones that can leave permanent scarring, like: cigarette burns, broken bones, starvation and penetrative rape… unfollow me.
If you talk down to survivors of abuse like you think you know shit about it, unfollow me.
Also, please take a red-hot poker and shove it where the sun don’t shine.
♡ Imagine patching up your f/o after an altercation.
They knew to come to you for help. You may or may not ask how they got themselves in the state they were, perhaps they’re quiet and reserved about the ordeal when they first called, preferring to not discuss what happened to spare you the gruesome details. Or alternatively they tell you how everything unfolded as you clean their wounds gently, trying not to press them about their choices.
Whether it’s minor scratches, a deep gash or a gunshot wound, they knew to trust you with patching them up. Especially if they couldn’t trust immediate help depending on what they did exactly.
A certain closeness to them as you stitch them up is relieving, the silence and comfort of being near them and making sure they’re okay by your own hands. Applying bandages and checking in with them to make sure nothing is too tight or uncomfortable. It’s a time of bonding between you both, making sure they’re all cleaned up and ready to heal over the next few days. Stripping them of their bloodied clothes, running them a bath or a shower, and making sure they don’t strain themselves by moving too quickly.
Expressing how you love and care about them, and how they have to be a little more careful no matter what business they get up to. You can’t afford to lose them, they know this, and they promise you to try and be a bit more ample to preserving their body from more harm. Though they appreciate what you do for them, and how you don’t judge them for how they got such injuries in the first place. They love you for this, for being so accepting and caring, it might not be something they were used to, but you’ve changed that for the better.
warnings:blood, some cursing, injury, kisses, fluff, being jumped by guards (?)
a/n:this was another one that was originally split into 3 parts here, but i’ve put them together here to make for easier reading! :) + you are the equivalent of Alby in this - first in command of the girls maze/glade.
This was written a while ago, so sorry if it’s shitty lmao
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[Part 1] (first gif)
A boy comes up in the box with a note. You help him…
“It’sa boy.”
“What?” You step forward, looking down into the box. “How?”
“I don’t know,” Sonya replies. “Who’s gonna get him, though?”
“I will.” You jump down, landing perfectly and with ease. You kneel down next to the boy and notice something in his hand. Carefully, you pull it out and then look up in shock. The rest of the girls look confused.
“What is it?” One of them asks.
“It says..” You take a small breath. “It says… ‘he’s the last one… ever’.”
–
Later that night, Harriet walks quickly out of the medical hut. “He’s awake, Y/N. Says his name is Aris. But he’s confused and upset. We’re finding it hard to keep him calm.”
“Alright. Let’s go then.”
We make our way back to the hut. I walk in and see Aris sitting up with crossed legs. He looks so scared, and I feel instantly guilty. One of the med jacks speaks up. “He won’t keep still. Keeps tryna get outta here.”
I push open the door. “Let go.”
“What? Y/N, What if he runs-”
“You heard. Let the boy go! He’s scared, and he needs to know he’s not our prisoner here. Come on, Aris.”
The girls step back, and Aris stands up. I gesture for him to follow me out of the hut, and he does. The second we are out, he does as I expected since seeing him: he runs.
“Hey!” I quickly catch up to him, getting ahead and stopping him with my hand landing hard against his chest. “You don’t wanna do that.”
“What is this place? Am I trapped? What’s that?” He points to the doors of the Maze.
“So many questions, greenie. All will be answered, I promise you.”
“When? I don’t understand. Why can I only remember my name… n-nothing else.”
“Listen,” I sigh. “It happens to everyone. None of us can remember anything. But, as I said, answers will come later. For now, all you need to know is that you are safe. As safe as you can be… for now.”
Aris looks up finally, frowning at me. “For now?”
“Yes.” I put a hand on his shoulder and meet his eyes. “Because I’m working on getting us out of here. And I will.”
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[Part 2] (second gif)
After escaping the Maze with Aris, as you promised,you get separated…
Arislooks at you from across the dining table. You smile in reply to his worried expression. You reach over and place your hand on the table. He follows, placing his on top of yours. “We’re gonna be fine, A. We made it out.”
“I know, I just…” He whispers, pulling down his hood farther. “I don’t trust this place.”
“Me either, not completely… but we have food, clean clothes, showers, it’s-”
“Y/N.” You jump, looking for the source of the voice calling your name.
“No.” Aris leans forward, slightly bending over the table. “Don’t go with them. Please, there’s something wrong here.”
“Y/N!?” You look in the direction the voice comes from, realising that it’s Janson. “Is she here?”
You stand up slowly, shaking. “Yes..”
“Come on up here.” You stay still, looking back at Aris again, unsure and scared. He shakes his head.
Your heart rate picks up as you look around at the other teenagers who all stare at you with jealous looks. Most of them are convinced that they are here to be saved, to be taken 'home.’ You glance around for exits, but every single one is guarded by two or three armed men. You feel the tears begin to well in your eyes as your hand clutches Aris’s tighter.
Then suddenly, you are jolted forward by two pairs of arms on either side of you. You glance at the two guards who start forcing you forward.
“No! Y/N!”
“Aris! Aris!” You yell.
The force they pull you along with convinces you that they are not good people. Your arms are being practically crushed by the guards’ grip on you, and they don’t even notice your tears or shouts of pain. “Where are you taking me!?”
“Move!”
–
You follow behind a line of boys and girls. Each one disappears behind a curtain and then doesn’t come back. The line gets smaller and smaller, and you start to panic. Then one of the guards grabs you and pulls you aside. They turn you around quickly, clamping a hand over your mouth. You scream when the guard places a sharp object against the skin of your arm and slices long, jagged cuts into it. He then shoves you forward into view and gestures to another guard. "This one is injured. I’m taking her to get stitched up first.”
“Right. Be prompt.” A woman in a lab coat says.
The guard then takes you out into the corridor. You start kicking again. “Let go of me! Let go! Asshole, let me go!”
“Shh! Shh!” The guard pulls down their mask. It’s a woman, with black braided hair. “I’m here to help you. I’m with the Right Arm.”
“Help me!?” You show your bleeding arm, the red substance dripping along your skin and onto the floor. “You cut me!”
“To buy time. So come on, let’s go. Now.”
“How can I trust you!?”
She quickly reaches into her pocket, pulling out a rag and swiftly wrapping your wound. She ties a knot, causing you to hiss as the action makes the injury sting. “Follow me, and you will trust me. I promise.” You both start to run, the woman helping you along.
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[Part 3] (third gif)
Reuniting with Aris in the Scorch…
You gasp as you see him. He stares at you, standing between two taller boys, completely taken aback. “Y/N!”
“Aris!”
“Y/N? H-how?”
“Just come here!” You open your arms. Aris pushes through the boys, wrapping you in a hug. You cradle the back of his head, holding him as close as possible and planting a kiss on his cheek as you break away, one hand moving to cup his jaw. “I can’t believe it.”
“Me either. And you look so different.”
You glance down at yourself. Your hair is braided on one side, and it’s cut slightly shorter. You wear bottoms that have mismatched colour patches sewn into them. A scarf sits tightly, but not too much so, around your neck. “Not really. Just dirtier clothes.”
Aris chuckles lightly, his eyes flickering up and down your form. You could almost swear that you catch him blushing. “Can we- uh..”
“Yeah, let’s go catch up.”
–
“Comfy enough spot right here, I think.” You sit together in front of a fire. “So, who are the other guys?”
“Uh, there’s Frypan, Newt, the girl is called Teresa, and then there’s Thomas, their kind of leader." You rub your hands together, warming them up. "He was the one who I talked to about not trusting that place. I told him about you and how you just… disappeared after they called your name. Then… he helped me get out.”
“Oh, so I suppose I should thank this Tommy for that later then.”
Aris looks up. “Why?”
“Why? We might have never seen each other again if he didn’t help you. And I missed you, A.”
“I missed you too. How’d you get out anyway?”
You chuckle, remembering. “There was a guard there who wasn't really a guard. She actually pulled a damn knife out and cut me… to buy us some time, and then we ran for it. She was a member of the Right Arm. They have groups who go in and try to get kids out… every now and then.”
You pull up your sleeve, revealing a few jagged, raised scars. “Harriet left some ugly ass marks. I would be mad about it, but she saved my life, so.”
Aris lightly touches one of the scars and then traces it with his fingertips. He moves up and up until his hand sits atop yours. You squeeze it, holding his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back to you. We.. we didn’t have time. I wanted to, though. I kept asking, but it got too dangerous.”
“That’s okay, as long as you were safe. Thomas and his group helped me. It was a long journey, but we got here eventually.”
“I had no doubt that you could make it out… through the Scorch and…” Your voice lowers on the next words, “back to me.”
Aris smiles shyly. “I don’t know. I had a lot of help-.”
“No.” You interrupt him. “I always knew you were tough. Right from when you ran out of the med-hut that day.”
Aris turns shy, looking at his feet. “It kept me going. Thinking about the possibility that you could’ve gotten out. Or that if you didn’t… I needed to as a way of thanks for everything you’ve done for me.”
“A… I…”
“What?” He looks up again, and when your gazes meet, you can see the reflection of the fire in his kind eyes. He walks his hand over to yours, which lies flat against the ground and covers it, instantly making you feel warm and fuzzy inside. “Y/N, what?”
“I just, um- I think…”
“What?”
You sigh loudly. You are never the type to be at a loss for words. So instead, you dive into action, pushing yourself onto your knees and taking Aris’s face into your hands. You pause an inch away and feel him nod as his eyes flutter closed. The next thing you know, your lips are against his, delicate and sweet. “That…” You mutter when you pull away, cheeks hot.
“Oh.” Aris says, “well… that was nice. Thank you.”
“Yeah. Uh…” You nod before you both burst into a fit of laughter. Eventually, you both close the gap once again. You sink into each other’s embrace before falling asleep in front of the crackling fire.
I decided to read all the codex pieces while playing and this one - with the “memorial” regarding Lindiranae’s death fresh in mind - this one really smacked me in the face. Never before had I considered how or why the sword was buried in the Emerald Graves; although not available until this codex had been found. The story is still heavily riddled with injustice and religious fervour but I… think it’s a pretty story nonetheless.
After Sol was rescued from Valentino, she found out that Striker had been shot in the ordeal. Being the stubborn imp that he is, he brushes her off, telling her he needs to get her somewhere safe, otherwise more demons are gonna try and take her away and do Satan knows what to her.
Once they get to a motel, she persists she get the bullet out, afraid that he might get infected from the bullet.
Knowing she was gonna pester him about it, he finally agreed to let her get the bullet out. Even though Sol’s an angel, the process was still gonna hurt like Hell.
I think this is the first social fight that’s happened in the RT Miitopia/Gracie RimWorld game. John apparently doesn’t know good taste when he sees it, Chat doesn’t like being insulted, and then they throw hands while everyone else stands around awkwardly and Gilbert tries to mediate. Good times!
Bonus: John playing doctor after the incident and patching up the cuts and bruises that were inflicted.
Summary: The problem, Snufkin thinks, is not so much that he believes he is a selfish, wild creature. The problem is that Moomintroll is not, and never will be. And that is a problem, you see, because he deserves someone far better than him. And yet, Moomintroll still chose him.
… … … … … … … … … … … … …
“I think this is alittle excessive, guys.”
“Daw, but you look so pretty!” Snorkmadien giggled, tying one among many bows to Sniff’s ear. Snufkin thinks there has to be at least a dozen, likely more.
“He looks like a mannequin in a bow store that ran out of spares.” Little My snorted, though she, too, was tying another bow onto the poor creature’s arm.
“It might be a little too many bows.” Moomintroll tried, though he had also not been spared, with dusty rose bows around his ankle and ear, and a light blue one around his neck, courtesy of matching with Snorkmaiden. Though her bow was tied at the back of her neck, not the side.
“Well, I have so many,” Snorkmaiden said, sitting back to admire the pink bow she’d adorned Sniff’s ear with. “I’m probably not even going to use them all.”
“But why am I the model?” Sniff bemoaned. “You only gave Snufkin one!”
Which was true, they had. Snufkin was saved by only having a single yellow bow tied around his hat. It actually matched quite well, and Snufkin had decided very early on he’d be keeping it until it fell off.
“Snufkin’s not a bow-type creature.” Snorkmaiden said simply.
“And he’d probably lead us all to a ditch if we tried to make him look as ridiculous as you.” Little My taunted.
“I wouldn’t.” Snufkin said, knowing very well that he probably would.
“Hush,” Little My waved him off. “Less talking, more harmonica. It’s what you’re good at.”
“Hey!” Moomintroll bristled, and Snufkin tried to hide his grin as he went back to gently playing All Small Beast Should Have Bows In Their Tails. He thinks Sniff is the only one who hasn’t realized the irony in it, yet. “Snufkin is good at plenty of other things!”
“Like breaking and entering?” Little My drawled.
“And disregarding laws.” Snorkmadien added, not immune to instigating arguments for fun. He respected it.
“Don’t listen to them.” Moomintroll told him. “You’re good at much nicer things.”
“Nicer, you say?” Snufkin took the harmonica just a little ways off of his mouth so he could speak. “I happen to quite like those two talents of mine. Do you think they are lesser-than?”
He resumed playing as Moomintroll stuttered, struggling to keep the tempo even as the troll attempted to hastily backtrack. Little My cackled at him, and Snorkmaiden, too, giggled at his plights. Sniff, the poor little creature, had only paid attention to maybe half of the conversation.
“Relax, you talking pillow.” Little My sniffed, batting at the trolls bowed-ankle. “There are few things I share with this lunatic, but we’ve got a small overlap in humor.”
“I didn’t think it was very funny.” Moomintroll muttered, thoroughly embarrassed.
“That’s because you have a hero complex. Now are you getting another bow, or not?”
Moomintroll was a stuttering mess all over again, and Snufkin was fully smiling into his playing, now. His tail, which was normally quite covered by his clothes, or simply unused, flicked to life to lightly bat at the moomin’s side, urging him through his shifting closer to the two for another bow.
Moomintroll gave him a slightly surprised look, but then Snorkmaiden was grabbing his paw to tie a green ribbon around his wrist, and Snufkin stopped paying much attention, instead focusing on his music.
He thinks he’s better now, after that talk on the beach. That Moomintroll knows he is a selfish beast, and simply does not care. Well, he cares, it is just something that he accepts, like how Snufkin accepts that Moomintroll has a hero complex.
Somehow, that hasn’t done much for the thoughts, even if they feel a little better. Suppose not even solid proof can dissuade the most stubborn of minds.
“He’s not gonna let you.” He heard, and his ear pricked, flicking up, the only indication that he was paying attention again.
“I can at leastask.” Moomintroll huffed, and before Snufkin could wonder what that meant, the troll was sitting back down at his side, a new ribbon around his wrist. “Snufkin?”
“Come to show off your newest decoration?” Snufkin teased, bringing the harmonica away. “I must say, Snorkmaiden, while you are quite deft at making pretty bows, I don’t happen to think this matches him.”
“We’re not trying to match, we’re trying to tie bows.” Snorkmaiden huffed, and he couldn’t argue with that, so he went back to his harmonica.
“Speaking of which,” Moomintroll said, and Snufkin could see now that he had one paw closed into a fist. “Could I have your tail for a moment?”
He exhaled a bit too harshly on a changing note, and winced a bit. It wasn’t glaringly obvious, but to someone who knew the song inside out, it still grated on him. He thinks the others might’ve noticed, too, for they’d heard it almost as much as him.
“Excuse me?” He stared, setting the harmonica down in his lap.
“Er, your tail?” Moomintroll looked far more unsure, now. “Is–you don’t have to, of-of course, I was only asking–”
“Whatever for?” Snufkin frowned.
“Well, I was thinking…” Moomintroll unfurled his paw, revealing a rather large cream-white bow within, almost blending into his fur. “I could tie this to your tail?”
“I tried to give him a much smaller one.” Little My informed. “But he insisted on a big one.”
“I did not,” Moomintroll glared at her, flushed. “I just thought this one looked better.”
“You just want to dress him in a pretty bow.”
“Oh you are such–”
“Alright,” He said, because if he waited anymore, he’s sure they’d all be expectantly turning to him for an answer, and he wanted to avoid that ensuing silence.
And, because he wanted to avoid another awkward silence, he moved his tail until the tufted end lay across Moomintroll’s leg.
“Would I have said as such if I wasn’t?” He replied.
“Fair enough,” Moomintroll shrugged, and picked up his tail with soft fingers.
“Unbelievable,” He heard Little My grumbling under her breath.
Moomintroll, he could tell, was anxious. Probably from how Snufkin had startled earlier, but really, can one blame him? He’s not exactly sure how other Mumrik’s are about their tails, and Snufkin wouldn’t say he was overly careful with his, but he most certainly wasn’t as expressive with it as most other creatures were. Why, the bow would probably be hidden with the rest of his tail if he went on as normal, so why bother?
He watched as Moomintroll took the ribbon and slowly wound it around his tail, mumbling a quiet “is this too tight?” and continuing on when Snufkin shook his head. It was actually a bit too loose, but he didn’t want to interrupt to point that out.
It wasn’t as neat as Snorkmaiden’s, nor as lopsided as Little My’s. It was made with care, but not perfection. One side was a little too big, and one string was clearly longer than the other. Moomintroll looked like he wanted to redo it, but Snufkin was raising his tail and looking over it before he could unravel it.
He’d put it right before the tuft in his tail, big and eye-catching. He has no doubt part of it would drag on the ground if he didn’t keep his tail upright, doomed to be snagged on twigs and rocks. He decided right then and there he wouldn’t let that happen.
“Do you like it?” Moomintroll asked, wary.
“Not that it matches.” Snorkmaiden added-in.
“It’s wonderful.” He breathed, and drew his tail closer so that he could tighten it. “Thank you, Moomintroll.”
Moomintroll broke into a bright smile, and he definitely heard Little My fake-gag. Snorkmaiden, for her part, simply rolled her eyes with a fond look and withdrew another blue bow from her bag.
“Does this mean we’re adding more bows to Snufkin instead?” Sniff asked hopefully.
“Absolutely not.” Snufkin said, still smiling as he curled his tail around his body, by his legs. “Two bows are enough for me. Besides, you look so lovely in all those colors.”
“You’re all terrible friends.”
And they only laughed, and the conversation went on. Though, Snufkin is sure that Moomintroll kept looking over when Snufkin’s tail would twitch and move, more so than it had in quite a while.
And if Snufkin spent the rest of the day with that bow, tail lazily waving behind him, then that could be something that was acknowledged in silence.
And while he wouldn’t admit it, everyone would know kept the white bow, even after it fell off. He tied it tight to a strap on his bag, and feigned naivety when it was pointed out.
After all, it could’ve been any old bow.
It was rather cathartic to ruin the Park Keeper’s night.
It was one thing when he ruined a few people’s days on his travels. When he passed by parks with clipped grass and perfectly square bushes. When he muddled it all up so that nature may reclaim what so rightfully belongs to it.
It’s a whole other thing when you get to ruin the same Hemulen’s park over and over again. He wouldn’t compare it to returning to Moominvalley every spring, but that was the closest thing he could compare it to. What else did he return to so frequently?
It also means that the Park Keeper got clever. So you have to be clever back. And on and on it goes in circles and loops and twists and turns. It’s honestly quite fun. Snufkin enjoys the challenge, even if he knows he will always win. Even if a battle is lost, the war on nature will always favor the side of nature. That’s just the way things are.
It still wasn’t much fun when he lost the battle. Even if it was still cathartic to cause problems.
This was how he wound up with some kind of snare-like trap wound around his arm.
He doesn’t think it was meant for him. Honestly, he thinks it was for deer, or some larger animals that kept wandering in. Or maybe it was supposed to go around trees to deter squirrels and accidentally got caught in a place it shouldn’t have been. That did not, however, stop the rivulets of blood down his arm.
Really, it wasn’t as bad as the blood would have you believe. His sleeve was just horribly stained and torn and made it a lot more graphic than it ever needed to be. But he should probably try to stop the bleeding anyway.
And so, here he was, climbing up to Moomintroll’s window. Why? Well, it’s simple, really; if he walked in through the front door, he might get blood on the floor, and he wouldn’t want to bother everyone with the stains. And someone else was bound to wake up if he was creeping around trying to find the bandages and scissors, so he figures he can just ask Moomintroll where it is and be out in a jiff.
He wasn’t all too keen on staying around the park to ask for help, anyway. Though he’s sure the Park Keeper would’ve helped, for as tremendous as their rivalry was, he does not think the hemulen was one to take pride in almost seriously injuring someone by accident, whether or not they were being mischievous. Also, Snufkin has friends who would gladly have a word or two with him. But some wilder part of his brain grew frantic at the thought of staying where he had been injured, waiting for some form of enemy to find him. So he’d scurried out as fast as he could, because he was no tamed creature.
And wire was not an easy thing to tear off. So, not wanting to make it worse by trying to kick it off, he figured it’d be better to cut it, once he had the clear mental state to think of such a thing. Thus, he went to Moominhouse. There were two safe places in Moominvalley, and that was the house, and his tent.
Luckily, nobody in the Moominhouse locked anything. So Snufkin had no trouble scaling up the wall, claws hooking into crevices and digging into the wood when there were none. He cradled his injured arm up to his chest, adjusting his weight distribution so he wouldn’t be making many errors and have to do the whole thing all over again. It’d look bad if there was blood dripping down the side of the house come morning.
He was, unfortunately, not quiet. Understandable, given the circumstances, but also quite unfortunate when the entire point was to be sneaky.
So, call Snufkin more than a bit spooked when, upon reaching Moomintroll’s window, it swung open before he could even figure out how he was supposed to do it himself with one good hand.
His tail stuck straight out, he’d forgotten to tuck it away these days, and jerked down so his head was just below the windowsill, not that it would do anything.
“Shoo!” Moomintroll demanded, wielding a bat. “Shoo, I say! This is no place to–Snufkin?”
Snufkin’s ears swiveled upright, blinking his best innocent eyes. Moomintroll stared at him for a moment, absolutely bewildered. Which was fair enough, it was a bewildering situation. He would prefer if they could get a move on, though. His arm still hurt.
“You look kind of creepy.” He said, lowering the bat. “Like a nightmare in the dark–what are you doing up here in the middle of the night?”
“Do you have anything that can cut wires?” Snufkin asked, finding he didn’t quite like being called a nightmare.
“You mean like pliers?” Moomintroll tilted his head as Snufkin leaned back up. “Sure, I think we have some down in the sheee–your arm!”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Snufkin shrugged it off, already descending. “Grab some bandages for me, perhaps? I can go get the pliers since I’m already out here–”
“You’rebleeding!” Moomintroll cried, and Snufkin would’ve hushed him for being too loud if the troll wasn’t leaning out the window and grabbing at him. “Goodness, get inside! What even happened–nope, you know what, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter,” He muttered, heaving Snufkin by the coat.
“Really, it looks far more terrible than it truly is.” Snufkin insisted, though he helped Moomintroll out by kicking his paws against the wood to get himself inside. “It’s just a snare.”
“Asnare?”Moomintroll exclaimed, nearly toppling over backwards when he finally got Snufkin inside. “Whatever do you have a snare on you for?”
“Well, I assume it’s a snare of some sort.” Snufkin shrugged, looking down at the arm still cradled to his chest. “Truly, I’m not quite sure what its purpose was. It was an accident.”
“Doesn’t that hurt?” Moomintroll stepped forward.
“Tremendously,” Snufkin agreed. “But I already had my moments of writhing and cursing. Now it’s just plain bothersome.”
“You…” Moomintroll pressed his paws together in front of his face, and he was probably supposed to be exasperated, but he only looked more afraid. “You’re a horrid little creature, do you know that?”
“I make a habit of it.” Snufkin nodded. “Now, uh, the pliers…?”
“Right! Yes, yes,” Moomintroll hurriedly stepped back. “You wait right here, okay? Don’t go anywhere, uh, put pressure on the wound, I think that’s what you do–I’ll be right back with pliers and some bandages. And stitches, do you think you need stitches? I’ll get stitches.”
“The stitches really aren’t necessary–”
“Donot leave!” Moomintroll warned him, pointing a paw at him, opening the door behind him.
“I have nowhere else to go.” He said, but Moomintroll had already left.
And then he was alone in Moomintroll’s room. He considered sitting on the bed, but he didn’t want to get blood on the sheets. So he sat down underneath the window, legs folded underneath him and using his other arm to hold his injured one in place. He’d already accepted that his coat was ruined, it wouldn’t do anything to have a few more stains on it. It was awfully lucky he didn’t care much for material value.
He did find himself absently picking at the wire, though, despite how tight it was in his skin. A nightmare, he said. He doesn’t quite like that thought. Of being a creature that goes bump in the night, one that has others on their toes. He likes being a lusiance, yes, but not a nightmare.
He hoped he wasn’t too terrifying of a sight, covered in blood with a wild look in his eyes, still breathing heavily from the dying adrenaline rush and the climb. He isn’t soft like moomins or fillyjonk’s or the wide array of folks in the valley. He has rows of fangs made for tearing, curving claws for catching, a nimble frame for pouncing, slitted eyes made for the night. He is not a kind beast to find on a lonesome trail.
He wonders if a part of Moomintroll is afraid because of what he sees. If, for that split second, he saw a monster with jaws here to crush, claws to snatch up and rip away. He finds he hates that thought quite a bit, and his tail, the darn thing, tightly winds itself around his ankle.
He presses his thumb into the palm of his injured hand, just to the left of the wire curling around it. He feels his claws flex, and winces when the movement causes the wire to shift, digging in deeper. He hastily retracts them, cursing quietly to himself as he hunched over his bloody arm. Bad idea. A whole array of bad ideas.
He wonders if bleeding can be seen as proof in its own right. He’s seen cuts and scrapes on the moomins before, yes, but nothing as bad as a snare wound all up their arm. Dangerous beasts are the ones that are caught in traps, with sharp edges to be wary of. What soft creature had ever bled as much as he?
“I got the pliers!”
Moomintroll’s voice was a shouted whisper, but it still made Snufkin startle and look up at him from under the brim of his hat, anyway. Moomintroll faltered for a moment, and to Snufkin’s mind, that was evidence in of itself.
“Ah, good.” Snufkin said in a quiet, hoarse voice. “I do believe I’ve made it a bit worse.” He said with a nervous, painful smile.
“How on earth did you manage that?” Moomintroll rushed in, dropping to his knees and reaching out before stopping halfway. “Goodness, what did you do–?”
He started to reach forward with the pliers, and the flash of pointed metal made some instinct in Snufkin’s head flinch away, such a small and quick movement that anyone could’ve brushed it off as nothing. But Moomintroll wasn’t anyone.
“Snufkin?” He said, slowly drawing back.
“I’m fine,” Snufkin croaked, removing a paw from his arm and reaching out. “I apologize, my nerves are a bit frayed at the moment, I–” He paused, saw the blood dripping off his paw and onto the floor before hastily drawing it back. “Ah, you definitely don’t want that–”
“Snufkin,” Moomintroll said, and he glanced up at the troll’s face before looking down again. He didn’t feel up to seeing the growing panic in his eyes. “Hey, listen, I’m–well, normally I’d ask what’s wrong, but I’m afraid we need to get the wire off, first.” He said, setting the pliers down in his lap. “Do you want to do it?”
“No, it’s easier if you do it.” Snufkin shook his head, staring off at the wall as he offered his arm again. “I was just being jumpy, don’t worry.”
“You make it hard not to.” Moomintroll said, slowly reaching out a paw and gently taking his arm, and Snufkin fought every muscle demanding to wince away from the pain. “Oh my gosh–”
“Most of it’s just my sleeve.” Snufkin assured, still staring off. “I tried to get it off earlier, but it didn’t go so well. The tears are just from me.”
Moomintroll was silent for a moment, doing his best to avoid touching the open wounds and instead trying to find any place of give where he could wiggle the pliers up underneath. He wouldn’t, except maybe around his wrist, but Moomintroll might be too anxious to try by there for that, so he wasn’t going to make him.
Then he felt a shift on his head, and he looked back to Moomintroll just in time to see him lightly knocking his hat off his head with his other paw. He stared at the troll in confusion, ears twitching back. Moomintroll met his eyes after a moment, and something soft and fond flickered there for a moment with the tiniest of smiles.
“There you are.” He said sweetly, and then he was pulling at the wire.
Snufkin hissed, recoiling a bit this time, but Moomintroll held firm. He murmured his apologies, trying to both hold Snufkin’s arm still and lift up the wire so he could cut it. After a moment of psyching himself up, Snufkin reached out and pulled at the slightly loose part of the wire by his wrist.
“Try there?” He suggested, voice strained.
“Of course,” Moomintroll said, bringing the pliers closer. “I promise I’ll be verycareful.”
“Yeah, I know.” Snufkin’s voice shook, as did his paws, though he hoped Moomintroll thought it was from the pain. He never did understand how Moomintroll could be careless with his promises, at least in Snufkin’s eyes. Promises were not to be taken lightly.
It took four tries, but Moomintroll managed to wiggle the pliers underneath the wire, and Snufkin let it go with a low, drawn-out hiss at how tight the wire was everywhere else. He felt the metal digging into his arm, fresh blood trickling down.
“Sorry, sorry,” Moomintroll apologized under his breath, hooking the pliers into place and squeezing. It didn’t work at first, and he almost lost his grip in the wire before he got the pliers back into place again.
The second time, with a lot more catch and much more force, the thin wire snapped under it.
Almost immediately, the pressure lessened. Snufkin sighed, shoulders slumping as the coil unwound from the lower half of his arm. It got more tangled up before his elbow, but it wasn’t nearly as tight, so Moomintroll was easily able to slip the pliers underneath and cut those free, too.
“That’s better.” He murmured, letting his arm fall.
“Is there any other tight pain?” Moomintroll fretted, gently peeling the wire off and tossing it carelessly to the side.
“No, you got it.” Snufkin assured, sounding a little woozy as Moomintroll tried to roll up his sleeve. Snufkin decided to cut out the middle-man and undid the button on his coat before attempting to shake it off. It dragged painfully against his arm and he growled, Moomintroll helping him before he could apologize for such a beastly sound.
“Notthat bad, he says.” Moomintroll scoffed, taking his paw, the least injured part, and holding his arm out. “This still looks pretty bad, Snufkin.”
“But does it lookas bad?” Snufkin shot back, taking a look for the damage himself. Hard to tell, his arm was still coated in red.
“I suppose not.” Moomintroll tsked. “We should wash you up before we bandage it.”
“Smart,” Snufkin agreed, cradling his arm back to his chest. “Where did you put the bandages, anyway–?”
“I believe he may have forgotten that part.”
Snufkin froze up as Moomintroll whirled his head around, thoroughly spooked. There, in the doorway, Moominmamma stood, holding a roll of gauze and antiseptic spray. As always, she was prepared for just about anything. On any other day, he would admire it. Right now, it was a little humiliating.
“Mamma!” Moomintroll drew his paws back to his chest, and Snufkin felt a sickening roll in his chest when he saw the pristine white fur was stained with blood. “When did you–I had no idea you were awake. At this hour? Goodness, aren’t you tired? You really should–”
“I heard you worrying for Snufkin.” Moominmamma said simply, calmly walking in. “And getting the pliers. And while I’m sure you two can handle yourselves, I do believe I could be of some assistance.”
“Much appreciated, Moominmamma.” Snufkin mumbled, head ducked as Moomintroll stood, moving out of the way with a nervous curl of his tail. “I apologize for waking you.”
“Yes, we’re sorry–”
“Oh, don’t be.” Moominmamma waved them off, crouching and taking a look at Snufkin’s arm with nothing more than a mildly surprised hum. “Do you think you could walk to the bathroom, Snufkin? Moomintroll was right, we should wash this first.”
“It was only my arm that was injured,” Snufkin said, bracing one paw behind him as he pushed himself to his feet. “Not my legs.”
“I was only checking. Shock is a nasty thing.” Moominmamma said kindly, one paw on his shoulder as she stood back up. “Moomintroll, would you be a dear and put the pliers away? And make sure you throw away the wires, we don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”
“Can’t I be of any help, mamma?” Moomintroll fretted.
“You are. By putting everything away.” Moominmamma said simply, leading Snufkin out the door as he was trying to keep his arm from bleeding on the hardwood floors. “Snufkin will be perfectly fine, love.”
Snufkin, at the very least, attempted to give a reassuring smile and small wave over his shoulder before Moominmamma led him off to the bathroom. He doesn’t think it worked much, because Moomintroll still looked worried as he left.
Moominmamma, for her part, did not say much as she washed his arm in the sink. Not about the blood that was on her floor, nor Snufkin’s unorthodox entrance, nor his aversion to seeking anyone’s assistance but Moomintroll’s. It would’ve been concerning if Snufkin didn’t know that Moominmamma was not silent out of some sort of punishment, to stew in one’s guilt. She was quiet when she wanted to be quiet.
So he didn’t say anything, either. He only winced a little when she held his arm under the running water, and made a pleased hum when it was revealed the damage, while not necessarily good, truly wasn’t terribly bad. Snufkin was just grateful he wore a short-sleeved shirt under his coat in the warmer months, or he’d have more clothes to toss onto a fire.
“May I ask where you got yourself into such a mess?” Moominmamma asked simply, sitting Snufkin down on the edge of the tub as she held his arm.
“I was tearing out the Park Keeper’s signs.” He said truthfully, biting back a hiss when the antiseptic spray hit his arm. He would not hiss in her presence, it was undignified enough as it was. “I’m not sure what its true purpose was. I know it was a mistake, which makes it quite a bit more annoying.”
“We’ve all had our fair share of nasty accidents.” Moominmamma said simply, spraying one last time before grabbing the gauzes. “We ought to have a talk with the Park Keeper, though. Even if it was an accident, he ought to be more careful with these things.”
“It wouldn’t have hurt anyone else.” Snufkin weakly protested, watching her judge his injury before pressing a handful of the bandages onto a still-bleeding part of his forearm. “I’m sure he would’ve noticed in the morning. Honestly, I don’t think anyone but a mischief-maker was at risk. Even then, it was a series of unfortunate choices that got me like this.”
“He should still be more careful.” Moominmamma said evenly, pulling the rolls back. She reached out a paw, pausing for a moment, and when he didn’t pull away, she gently tilted his chin up so he was looking up at her. She had a rather serious, albeit kind, expression. “I do not wish to scare you, nor scold you, and I would not tell most of Moomintroll’s friends this if I did not know you were used to hearing more morbid things. I worry, Snufkin, because we’re lucky it only caught your arm, and not your neck.”
A true snare. The thought had certainly crossed his mind when he was down in the park, writhing and growling with the pain as he tried to wretch himself free. His main condolence was that, well, at least it hadn’t been around his throat.
“I find that would’ve been very unlikely.” He said anyway.
“But not impossible.” Moominmamma said simply, and then she started to wrap up his arm, and Snufkin didn’t have much else to say to that.
For not the first time, Snufkin wondered if she truly worried for him like Moomintroll did. Not the same kind of worry she showed every creature, for she was willing to house anyone, willing to help anyone. She was generous like that, and Moomintroll got some of his best traits from her.
No, for her, he wondered if she worried for him when he was gone. If she hoped he hadn’t found himself in too much trouble and would be returning safely.
He hoped not. He’d be dreadfully sorry to worry her. Lord knows she doesn’t need another person to think about.
“Now, I know you probably don’t want to come by here for every fresh change of bandages,” Moominmamma said, stepping back and letting him see his purely white-encased arm. “So I’ll be giving a kit over to you so that you can change them when they get dirty. Do you know how to do that?”
“Yes,” Snufkin nodded. “You don’t have to, I can just take the gauzes–”
“Nonsense,” Moominmamma waved him off. “We still need to make sure it doesn’t get infected. I can always get another.”
“Alright,” Snufkin relented, experimentally stretching his arm before thinking better of it. “I’m sorry for the trouble, Moominmamma.”
“It’s quite alright.” She said, offering a paw to help him up, of which he took. “I know you are not the kind to ask for much help, but please, next time, I implore you to wake us if you need any. It doesn’t matter what time it is, or the weather, or what may be going on. I would be happy to help.”
“I know.” Snufkin said, who had known these things, but it was still nice to hear them, anyway. A confirmation. “Thank you, Moominmamma.”
“Of course.” She said with a kind smile, squeezing his paw, which he didn’t even realize was still being held. “Is there anything else you may need?”
“Need? No,” Snufkin shook his head. “However, I doubt that will stop you.”
“I was hoping I could at least give you some food before you left.” Moominmamma agreed.
“That would be nice.” He relented, and he let her lead him by the paw off towards the stairs.
But to his guilt, Moomintroll was waiting downstairs for them, holding his bloody coat and hat. He looked up when they descended, his tragically crestfallen face springing up into curious fear when he saw them.
“Oh, dear,” Moomintroll fretted, getting to his feet. “Are you alright now, Snufkin?”
“Certainly.” Snufkin said, taking his time down the steps. “I was never going to not be alright.”
“I couldn’t help but worry.” Moomintroll admitted, holding out the coat when Moominmamma approached him. “Do you think it can be mended?”
“Unlikely,” Snufkin answered for her. “But it’s alright, I know how to make another.”
“Nonsense, this isn’t that bad of a fix.” Moominmamma waved him off, turning the coat over in her paws. “It’s not the first garment that’s been stained. And the sleeve only needs a bit of sewing. I can have it fixed in about a day or two.”
“You don’t need to.” Snufkin said, feeling just a little exposed without his hat to hide behind. “You’ve done more than enough for me already.”
“And I will do as much as you need.” Moominmamma said, draping the coat over her arm. “Moomintroll, would you please find something for Snufkin to eat? I’ll go ahead and soak this coat to fix up tomorrow.”
“Of course!” Moomintroll nodded, one paw still holding the hat as he scurried off to the kitchen. Snufkin only sighed, giving Moominmamma a vaguely pained expression she only smiled at as she passed. He pushed his paws into the pockets of his pants and meandered off towards the kitchen, tail dragging lazily along the floor.
He stood in the entryway as Moomintroll ran back and forth through the kitchen, muttering to himself all the while. He opened a cabinet, decided against it, and then went to the fridge. He abandoned that, too, and opened a drawer before shaking his head. He’d left the hat on the counter.
“Do we still have those apples we picked last month?” Snufkin asked casually, and Moomintroll nearly jumped out of his skin, as though surprised he was there at all.
“Oh, yes! Yes, we do.” Moomintroll nodded, going back to the fridge and opening it up to rummage around in. “How does your arm feel?”
“Much better.” He said, holding it out and across his front to look over it. “Your mother is quite skilled.”
“That’s Mamma for you.” Moomintroll withdrew from the fridge, apple in paw as he approached. “She wasn’t too mad, was she? I couldn’t quite get a read on her.”
“Not mad.” Snufkin assured, reaching out his good arm to take the apple. “Just a bit concerned, is all…oh.”
Moomintroll had clearly washed his paws as best he could, but as Snufkin had much better eyes in low light, he could see that the stains hadn’t been completely washed away. There was still a thin veil of red around his paws. It was just a little too dark to be mistaken for jam or paint.
“What is it?” Moomintroll frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing.” Snufkin shook his head, taking the apple. “You might want to wash your paws with more than just soap, though. I don’t believe you got all of it.”
“Oh, I haven’t?” Moomintroll looked down at his paws. “They look alright to me.”
“Yes, well, you’re a bit blind in the dark.” Snufkin shrugged.
“For someone with good night vision, you’d think he’d run into less trouble during that time.” Moomintroll mumbled, still looking down.
Snufkin felt awfully droopy, then. His free hand impulsively flexed open and closed, claws sheathing and unsheathing with it. It was an old nervous habit he’d been trying to quell, unless he was completely on his own. He hoped Moomintroll wouldn’t notice.
“I’m sorry for worrying you.” He murmured, and Moomintroll looked up at last.
“It’s alright.” Moomintroll said. “You’ve done quite a bit of apologizing tonight, I think it’s more than I’ve ever heard from you in a year.”
“Well, this is something worth apologizing for.” Snufkin said, breezing by the troll and to the kitchen table. “I gave you quite the fright.”
“I wasn’t frightened.” Moomintroll huffed, watching him. “I’m not scared by a bit of blood.”
“It’s alright to be afraid.” Snufkin said, gingerly sitting down and keeping one paw beneath the table, the other still holding the apple. “I’m sure I was a scary sight.”
“Well…” Moomintroll hesitated, and Snufkin took a bite of the apple so as to distract himself from dwelling. “I wouldn’t call it frightening, of course, because that implies someone was frightened, but…you didn’t look like much of a sight.”
“Sorry,” He said again, mouth mostly hidden behind the apple, head down.
“Stop apologizing.” Moomintroll huffed, taking a seat next to him and flicking the side of his head. “It’s not your fault you were all bloody and woozy. I was just worried you might pass out on the floor.”
“Now, I haven’t lost all that much blood.” Snufkin muttered, taking another bite.
“It sure looked like it.” Moomintroll said, paw inching closer across the table. “Has this happened before, Snufkin?”
“I think you’ve fretted more than enough for tonight.” Snufkin said, tail flicking.
“So you have!” Moomintroll straightened.
“It’s truly not that big of an issue.” Snufkin said, turning his head away. “It’s what happens when you’re a tramp.”
“It still worries me.” Moomintroll said, eyes dragging over him. “Are those really scars?”
Snufkin froze, mouth halfway open, in the middle of a bite. Slowly, he set the apple down on the table, and then tucked his other paw underneath the table, clasping it with the other. Occasionally, his paws would squeeze each other, and though it stung his arm, the claws still unsheathed. In and out, in and out.
He knew the ones Moomintroll had seen. On his other arm, a curling scratch up near his shoulder, poking free of the short sleeve, still a bit too pale, a little pink. He’d gotten it last winter. And a spot just above his wrist, normally barely hidden by his sleeve, a gnarled burn from a forest fire three seasons ago, far out of Moominvalley.
He was not ashamed of them. They were simply scars, two among others hidden beneath cloth. Sometimes he’d even be poetic and call them proof of all his travels. Proof that he was adventurous and a survivor. He wasn’t the only beast in Moominvalley with scars, after all, he knew that Moominpappa himself had a nasty curl around his ankle that was normally covered up by his fur. Perhaps he had more.
But he did have the most. That, he knew with certainty. When comparative, he didn’t have a lot, but he still had more. And so he wasn’t ashamed of them, but he was cautious. After all, such soft creatures didn’t need to be disturbed by the mars on his skin. He didn’t particularly want to answer all their questions about them.
It’s not even the first time he’s forgon the coat in Moomintroll’s presence. But those times, either Moomintroll had had no reason to think twice about it, or he’d made the choice to stay quiet. Tonight, he was not so lucky.
“They’re old.” He said, head down, and it was technically the truth. Months and months ago could still be considered old.
“They are.” Moomintroll said, and that fear was flashing in his eyes again. “Snufkin–”
“If it was a problem, I would have brought it up.” Snufkin said stiffly, ears pressing back, and oh how he wished he had his hat to hide them, hide his face.
“Would you?”
Snufkin raised his head at that. Moomintroll gazed at him sadly, almost pleading. And Snufkin was reminded of how he had flinched, and how Moomintroll had said they would talk about it. He thinks this is why he is here now, and he finds that talking to people feels very unwelcome right now.
“I know how to ask for help.” Snufkin said, knowing his ears were pinned back against his head.
“Do you know whento ask for help?” Moomintroll shot back.
“I came here, didn’t I?”
“And then you tried to leave again!” Moomintroll puffed. “As soon as I told you where the pliers were, you couldn’t have tried to leave fast enough!”
“It was a problem I could have fixed on my own.” He said simply, because it was simple, and it’s how it had always been. “Really, Moomintroll, it was nothing personal, I just thought I could handle it on my own.”
“You flinched.” Moomintroll said, and Snufkin stood.
“Not from you.” He said, and he walked off to the counter.
“I was the only one there!” Moomintroll stood as well.
“But you were not the only thing.” Snufkin said evenly, on the other side of the table, now. “Honestly, it’s not as bad as you’re making it sound.”
Moomintroll’s eyes flicked down, and he saw them widen, just a little bit. Snufkin looked down as well to see his paws still entangled with each other, the thumb of his injured paw pressed into the palm of the other. In the dim light of the moon in the window, for dawn wasn’t far away, now, his claws glinted. In and out.
Snufkin stared down at them, watching them methodically tense and untense. He could never quite remember where he picked up such a habit. He thinks it was a tick from when he was on his own in crueler lands, when flashing claws would give you an advantage. Or maybe it was something he did when hyping himself up to climb, and the motion was familiar. Or perhaps it was one of those things you just did, like picking eyelashes or biting nails.
There was white at the edge of his vision, and Snufkin held perfectly still as white paws enveloped his own, thumbs laying over his knuckles.
“I might scratch you.” He warned, head still down.
“You won’t.” Moomintroll said, giving them a gentle squeeze, and Snufkin watched as his claws slid out, laying against thick fur and not as thick skin. It would be easy, to give his fingers harsher twitches and watch as they nicked skin, digging in closer as they drew more blood.
“You don’t know that.” He said, wanting everything to withdraw his claws, but his hands started shaking with the effort, so he stopped. Moomintroll was squeezing just a little too tight.
“I do.” Moomintroll said, with the same trusting sincerity he’d always had. “And if you somehow do, which you won’t, then I forgive you.”
No, he still doesn’t think he deserves someone like Moomintroll. For even if it is alright that he is selfish, he is still a monstrous beast. He knows of harshness and carelessness and bears more invisible scars than not. His teeth are too sharp and crooked, his claws have seen blood and threatened more, his ears are torn at the edges, and his eyes are for hunts. He will worry Moomintroll no matter what he does, and he can’t apologize enough for it, for that is how he is. And he doesn’t think he’d ever change himself.
He is not a cruel beast, he knows that. He would not mean to hurt, and he does not always like his sharp edges and crooked parts. But that does not change what he is, and for that he’s glad he is not cruel.
Maybe it would be better if he had been. Then, it wouldn’t be a problem when Moomintroll got hurt, because he’d be expecting it. He’d know better than to show such soft concern for gnarled thorns.
“I don’t like sharp things.” He admitted, and he’s not sure if he means himself, or the object for which he flinched from. “Sometimes, I don’t mind them, even welcome them when they are needed. Other times, I remember when they have done harm.”
Moomintroll’s thumbs stroked over his paws, and the pressure lessened, but his claws did not sheath. His paws were still shaking slightly, though, and that confused him enough to frown and try to lift them. This only resulted in Moomintroll hurriedly holding onto them, fingers laced together, claws tapping against knuckles.
“That’s okay.” Moomintroll said. “I don’t care much for water. It’s fine enough on its own sometimes, but I’ve had more than enough floods and dangerous creatures within to wish to be around it.”
“But you love that old boat.” Snufkin finally looked up now.
“I do,” Moomintroll said, head turning, nothing but open and honest and it was so much like him. “But every now and again, I don’t like it much. If we’re honest, I quite hate it. What kind of adventurer dislikes floods?”
“I think adventurers are allowed to not like a few things.” Snufkin said.
“Then so are you.” Moomintroll said, and ah, that was the trap then, wasn’t it? “It’s alright to not like sharp things, Snufkin. I only wish that you would know we could help.”
“I do know that.” Snufkin insisted.
“Then I wish that you would seekhelp.” Moomintroll amended, tapping his fingers. “I know you like to be lonesome, but that doesn’t mean you always have to be.”
Oh, if those he’d met on his travels could see him now. Out there, he was the independent nomad, the Mumrik who could get out of any situation, who could survive anything on his own. Who had seen, done, and met half of everything all by himself. He was not unfriendly, but he was spikey, and for that, they were happy to leave him alone.
And here he was, in the kitchen of his best friend, (though that word didn’t quite feel like it fit as perfectly as it used to, and it only got worse by each year) being comforted about flinching when faced with sharp pliers, paws shaking and claws unsheathed, because he was so sure he’d never be what a creature like Moomintroll should have.
He thinks he knew, then, that a part of him would always be rooted here. Not in this valley, but in these people. That should they all up and vanish one day, and it was just him and the wilderness, he’d never be what he once was, never find reason to enjoy it ever again. No, he could never think it’d be easier to be cruel so Moomintroll wouldn’t worry. For he is still selfish, and that selfishness could not wish for such a thing if it meant he could never have this.
He thinks this is what it means to love. To have someone who will always hope for the best for you, but still leave enough room to give you a choice in the matter. To be able to live without them, but knowing it’d never be the same. To let them know things you had not admitted to even yourself, because you hoped you’d never have to think about it ever again.
He thinks he already knew that he loved.
“I’ll try.” He promised, because that was the best he could do.
Moomintroll smiled as though he’d given a definitive answer anyway. He ran his fingers along Snufkin’s paws before dropping one of them reaching for the counter.
He grabbed the brim of Snufkin’s hat, giving him a smile before unceremoniously plopping it on his head. It was lopsided and wonky, and Moomintroll was quick to try and straighten it out on his head.
“There we go.” Moomintroll nodded in satisfaction. “It’s a little odd seeing you without the hat.” He pushed the hat back a bit, and Snufkin, to his own surprise, let him. He let the hat be pushed upright, so it really didn’t do much for how open he felt, for his face was still exposed. “I actually think I quite like it.”
“Are you all set then, boys?”
They turned, Moomintroll fast and startled, Snufkin slow and distant. Moominmamma was in the entryway again, free of the coat. He thinks it shouldn’t have taken that long to soak a bloodied coat. He wonders if she took her time on purpose.
“Yeah, I think so.” Moomintroll nodded, releasing Snufkin’s other paw, and like the hug, he found he wouldn’t have minded if it lasted longer.
“Splendid,” Moominmamma said, walking in and taking the half-eaten apple off the table, making no comments about how little Snufkin ate, for which he was grateful. “Will you be staying the night, Snufkin, or going back to your tent?”
Perhaps if he’d been with any other creatures, he’d vanish back to his tent. He was feeling awfully cracked open and exposed at the moment, as though anything on the far side of harshness would scar him. He still kind of wanted to. Wanted to slip off into the night and hole up in his tent, and then be on his own for a while, reorient himself.
He was odd to most people in Moominvalley, for he needed to be alone to keep himself tethered, while everyone else needed to be doing things, perhaps even being around people, to come back to themselves. Snufkin was of the opinion that if he was too distracted, his very self would float away until it recognized the shell it had left behind, standing on its own and listening to nothing at all.
Be as it may, these weren’t any other creatures. These were the Moomins.
“It’s going to be dawn soon, anyway.” Snufkin shrugged, and though his paws were grasping each other again, they weren’t flexing. “I can stay for a few hours and leave at first light.”
“We can sleep in my room!” Moomintroll perked up, snagging his wrists back and giving them gentle tugs. “We’re not quite as small as we used to be, but my bed should still fit us fine–”
“I’m afraid that may not be the smartest idea.” Moominmamma said apologetically. “There’s still a bit of a mess.”
“Ah,” Snufkin’s ears drooped. “So–”
“If you say ‘sorry’ again, I’m getting Little My to tie your tail around your ankles.” Moomintroll huffed. “I’ll do it. And you know she’ll agree.”
“Well, who am I to argue with that?” Snufkin said, pulling his hat down.
“Will the couch and chair work? We have plenty of pillows and spare blankets.” Moominmamma offered.
“You forget I sleep on the ground.” Snufkin chuckled, already being dragged off by his very best friend (for he had no other word to call this, so it would have to do for now). “I assure you, this is more than comfortable enough.”
And it was. For even if they were practically laying on top of each other on the couch, Moomintroll was still as soft as ever, and pillows never once crossed Snufkin’s mind. He thinks he could’ve hibernated himself if he stayed right there and never left.
But he made do on promises. He always did. So when first light filtered in through the windows, Snufkin quietly peeled himself off of the couch and searched for his boots. He’s grateful for Moommintroll’s obliviousness in subtle situations, or else he might question why a few turned over items in his room qualified as ‘too much of a mess’ to sleep in. He’s grateful for Moominmamma’s quick, understanding thinking, too. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep in a room that still smelled of his own blood.
And so Snufkin pulled on his boots, took his hat off the coffee table, and slipped out through the front door. It’d be terribly rude to go out any other way, after such a bad entrance he made last time.
The light was really only barely grazing the ground, but it was enough for Snufkin. He’s sure Moomintroll would understand if he was but a silhouette on the horizon for the next few days. All this talk took a lot of energy out of him.
Well, except for returning to grab his coat. He’d drop by tomorrow morning, thank Moominmamma, and be off again before anyone else could realize he was there at all. Yes, that was a smart plan. Beasts this soft didn’t need to see one so feral.
He paused by the river, standing atop the bridge. It was still fairly dark, so he peered into the water, paws grasping the railing. The reflection that stared back at him was only a confirmation.
His face was shadowed in darkness, a haunting sight one would find in the deepest night from the most haunted of dwellings. His eyes glowed, slitted and calculating and made for predators. Deadly wishes stared back at him, horrible just-might’s.
Snufkin pulled his hat down to cover his eyes, shoved his paws into his pockets, and whisked off into the woods.
Revivify, 3rd level necromancy: You touch a creature that has died within the last minute. That creature returns to life with 1 hit point. Cost: diamonds worth 300gp
been Thinking Thoughts lately about night having his chip removed after the operation i can imagine he at least suffers from some intense dream-reality confusion + mild amnesia, like the chip took a part of his memory with it. he just repeats to himself in his head “this is a dream. im asleep, and when i wake up, none of this will have happened” he recovers alright, but damn is it oof after oof
(skate rat?) matsukawa issei x fem!reader | w.c 2.5k
a/n: FUCK ok here’s my fic for da whorehouse collab <3 yes it is a sequel to flavor of the month, same reader, makki + mattsun, back at it again,,, cuck makki 2021 i guess <3 i’m so sorry it’s late, also sorry if the “smut” is uh,,,, bad ksjdfhk i did not edit this, and no beta we die like goons
alternative title: hot babysitter face fucks best friend’s wife
18+ adults
warnings:CHEATING (reader is married to makki), kids (they’re just there idk reader is a mom), degradation,face-fucking,choking, slight injury
This is a scene in the campaign that happened wayearlier this year, but I liked it a lot and also I had all these sketches for this comic so it felt like a waste to just never finish them… so here it is!!
It’s read left to right, and the context is that Gideon (the guy) essentially got possessed by the monster they were fighting (the thing behind him) and then impaled Maya (the girl, and also his girlfriend) and knocked her unconscious! Fun times heheheheh
It’s been almost a year since Maya died in the campaign and was brought back by her cool necklace, so to celebrate the occasion she died again!! But it’s fine, she got revivified by Gideon she’s fineee
![[Tw blood / injury, character death]That was the first time. Now I’ve lost count.No matter wh](https://64.media.tumblr.com/280aecf0540bf831e94874a3bae9f127/95ae06fca922a8b1-9e/s1280x1920/b238892a226655bdcdc21a74c9b07456649521f8.jpg "[Tw blood / injury, character death]That was the first time. Now I’ve lost count.No matter wh")
![[…]Her brothers on the field lay slain,He would not see her die in vain,In grief, cried](https://64.media.tumblr.com/82b5e4f693e989d05043649b11b6f11c/850dc61abe5e2032-70/s1280x1920/3db106e33891d6eab1f63ea10da4dc9e13cdff8e.png "[…]Her brothers on the field lay slain,He would not see her die in vain,In grief, cried")
![[…]Her brothers on the field lay slain,He would not see her die in vain,In grief, cried](https://64.media.tumblr.com/64c4d954bd765221f99efdfbb7bce1c1/850dc61abe5e2032-f0/s1280x1920/7d0f354516ae01ad8189e570bfc63b43050127c9.png "[…]Her brothers on the field lay slain,He would not see her die in vain,In grief, cried")
![[…]Her brothers on the field lay slain,He would not see her die in vain,In grief, cried](https://64.media.tumblr.com/131ff7c407e217d9265f3ae2ca49d178/850dc61abe5e2032-7c/s1280x1920/ec9185f17ed137d12aa6366707314097c3d07eae.png "[…]Her brothers on the field lay slain,He would not see her die in vain,In grief, cried")
![[…]Her brothers on the field lay slain,He would not see her die in vain,In grief, cried](https://64.media.tumblr.com/920820a439c75f3fd64c148d5fd2dcb1/850dc61abe5e2032-6e/s1280x1920/c6b5dc5261863173c2c4e824d709e169cce4b099.png "[…]Her brothers on the field lay slain,He would not see her die in vain,In grief, cried")
