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roxannarambles · 3 years

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snufmin: 5 times snufkin held moomin’s paw

Most of the time, it was Moomin who reached for Snufkin.

That was just the nature of their friendship. Moomin reached for him in many ways. When everyone was headed down to the beach to play, Moomin made sure to invite him. When Snufkin was fishing during lazy summer days, Moomin would ask if he could join him. When the sun set and the stars started to appear, Moomin would get a glass jar and suggest to Snufkin that they go and catch some fireflies. Most of the time, Snufkin happily reciprocated, but it was usually Moomin who had to take that first step.

Moomin sometimes reached for Snufkin in a more literal sense, too. He gave him hugs, but hugs were complicated; Snufkin was not always open to hugs, seemed to often find them awkward and overwhelming. Moomin gradually shied away from initiating those most of the time. He sometimes threw his arm about Snufkin's shoulders, but that too was not always a welcomed gesture for Snufkin, and could make him stiffen and fall quiet. Eventually, Moomin had settled on a single physical gesture that usually was well received; taking Snufkin's hand. It didn't always work, but most of the time it seemed to; Snufkin would sometimes get a shy little smile, but he usually kept holding Moomin's paw, and over time grew to expect it more. So Moomin started doing it more often, for any sort of flimsy pretext; perhaps the hill they were climbing was a bit steep and slippery, or perhaps Moomin wanted to show Snufkin something and grabbed his hand to guide him along, or perhaps he was just happy and had no excuse at all. Snufkin didn't seem to mind.

But, still, it usually was Moomin who had to initiate it. And as content as Snufkin seemed to be with the arrangement, it sometimes left Moomin wondering. Doubt was always a tricky little beast, which had a way of creeping in, even into the loveliest of things. So Moomin would sometimes wonder if his gestures were as appreciated as he'd assumed; if his friendship was, well, as reciprocated as he'd hoped. If Moomin were to stop-- stop reaching out to Snufkin, stop making those efforts-- what exactly would happen? Would their friendship simply fade away? It was a silly thing to worry about, Moomin knew. Yet he couldn't help thinking about it sometimes.

But then, there were the times when Snufkin would reach for Moomin instead.

Such as the nights when he'd sneak to Moominhouse and toss pebbles at Moomin's window until he woke and came to see what he wanted, and with a secretive smile Snufkin invited him on a late walk. Or the times he planned a trip to the Lonely Mountains, for just Moomin and him. Or the times he would appear on the veranda, mouth-organ in hand, and wanted to see Moomin's reaction to a new melody he was working on.

There even were times when he reached for him in more literal, physical ways, too. Moomin kept the memories carefully stored away. They were few in number, but they stood out as so important, so cherished.

One time, Snufkin held his paw in comfort.

It had been after Moomin found one of the birds he helped raise. You see, one year Moomin and his friends protected a nest of baby birds from a kite, and then brought them home to raise, because their mother was injured. Eventually the mother healed and the babies grew up, and they all took flight on their migration. They all returned a year later, during the breeding season once more. It had been wonderful, and Moomin enjoyed visiting the birds that had grown up so fast.

Except, one day, Moomin had been walking along to give them a visit, and he found one of the colorful birds on the ground. It was crumpled at an unnatural angle. Moomin rushed to it, picking it up, intent on bringing it to the Hemulan to nurse it back to health.

But it had been too late.

Overwhelmed with grief, Moomin went to Snufkin with the bird, his tears overflowing.

"I d-don't understand, Snufkin, it was barely more than just a baby, just one year old," he said, cradling the poor creature's delicate, lifeless body in his paws. He trembled.

"Why did it have to die?"

Snufkin looked at him, his eyes soft and somber. He spoke, his voice so very gentle.

"I'm sorry, Moomin. It's just a part of life, I'm afraid."

Moomin swiped at his tears and demanded,

"Why? Why does it have to be? Something so beautiful, so . . . wonderful, and it barely even got to live. It was supposed to have years and years to fly and be free."

Snufkin was quiet for a long stretch as Moomin wept. He then said quietly,

"Let's go back into the forest. We can bury him by those berry bushes he loved."

So they went and buried the bird. They laid a few stones as a marker, and found some flowers to put upon its grave. Moomin said his goodbyes, and Snufkin held his paw tightly. He continued to hold his paw as they walked back home.

Another time, Snufkin held his paw as they sat under the stars.

It was deep into the night. They'd walked carefully, quietly, as if afraid to wake anyone, and reached the hill overlooking the meadow, lying down in the cool, damp grass. The air was a bit chilly but the stars were crisp and bright, and the milky way stretched across it all like the threads of some celestial loom that wove reality itself. They laid next to each other in companionable silence for a long time, gazing up at the countless, flickering points of light.

"They're so beautiful tonight," Moomin eventually said, in a hushed voice. Snufkin hummed softly in reply.

After a few moments, Moomin said,

"They make me feel . . . strange, though. Like . . . there are so very many. It makes me feel small."

"That's why I love them," Snufkin said, his voice as serene as the evening breeze. Moomin's brow crinkled.

"You like to feel small?"

Snufkin chuckled.

"Not quite that, but sort of." He paused to think.

"It's easy for people to feel like the things they do in their lives . . . the things they build, the people they meet, the battles they fight, the wishes they make, the fears that vex them, that it's all so terribly important. That they are terribly important."

Moomin glanced to his side to see Snufkin's expression. His gaze was wistful, his smile soft.

"But really, we're just another point of light in the sky, among thousands."

Moomin frowned as he considered that.

"I'm not sure if I actually enjoy that idea."

Snufkin's smile grew crooked, affectionate.

"Well, I think it's comforting, in a way."

Moomin stayed quiet as his friend pondered things. He thought perhaps Snufkin was finished, but then he eventually said,

"It's nice to know that things will keep on turning with or without me. And that whatever I do with life, it's really up to me to decide what's important."

Moomin's eye traced the path of a familiar constellation as he thought about what Snufkin said. He thought about his life and all the things in it, and what he treasured most.

"I'm not sure what's most important in the universe," he said, ruffling the grass under his paws,

"But for me, what's most important . . . well. It's, um . . ."

He trailed off, suddenly feeling shy. But he could see Snufkin's gaze on him, and his brow arched, as if asking him to finish. Moomin murmured,

"It's just moments like these. Just sharing them with people I care about."

Snufkin was quiet for a while then. After a few minutes, he said,

"I like that."

They kept watching the stars in peaceful silence until Moomin began to feel a little drowsy, lulled by the chatter of crickets.

That's when he felt Snufkin's hand slip into his paw, warm and just a bit uncertain, but so very tangible.

Another time, Snufkin reached for him in a moment of unguarded glee.

Moomin had been running from tree to tree, huffing and puffing, diving behind them as he went. He leaned against a large oak, glancing carefully this way and that, ears perked and scanning the forest. The trouble with Little My is that she was such a tiny little creature, so she was easy to miss, but Moomin was determined to stay one step ahead of her. When he felt the coast was clear, he rushed ahead again, diving into a big bush several yards away. He peered out, surveying the territory.

Little My was nowhere to be seen. It was disconcerting-- Moomin would have preferred to know exactly where she was, but there was no helping it. He crept out of his hiding spot and jogged quietly ahead again, trying to avoid trodding on any fallen leaves or sticks.

And then, just past another stand of trees, Moomin spotted his target. Not far from him, the land sloped up into a hill. Stuck into the dirt, perched proudly at the very top of the hill, was a stick with a scrap of blue fabric waving in the breeze. Moomin snorted. They chose to put their flag there? It was the easiest thing to see in the world. What were they thinking?

Moomin heard a noise from somewhere, and he jerked, moving behind the stand of trees. Was it My? He waited, holding his breath. The noise didn't return. Moomin didn't like how much underbrush was around this part of the woods, because it meant My could be lurking just about anywhere. He also knew for a fact that the little Mymble was alarmingly fast-- she'd often caught him when they played tag. Biting a lip nervously, Moomin took one last look about the forest, and then decided he'd just gun for it.

He hit the ground running and rushed through the grass, not even trying to look around, just focusing on speed. As he charged up the hill, he realized it was a bit steeper than he'd guessed, and running up it at full speed was difficult. He plowed ahead anyway, briefly tripping on a rock but thankfully regaining his footing. His feet slapped hard against the dirt and his heart pounded, but he kept his eyes locked on his prize, determined.

As Moomin scaled the top of the hill, he slipped on some loose dirt and scrambled to catch himself. A little too late, his body struck the ground, but as he fell he reached out, paws seizing upon the stick. He grinned triumphantly, panting for breath, but just as he was about to stand . . .

A pair of hands seized the stick as well, grabbing at it just above his paws. Moomin blinked and looked up.

From behind the other side of the hill, Snufkin had appeared. He locked eyes with Moomin, the both of them holding onto the flag, and for a moment they just awkwardly looked at each other.

Uncertain, Snufkin asked,

"What do we do now?"

Moomin pushed himself to his feet. He said,

"Um, well . . . I guess we're supposed to . . . fight for it?"

Snufkin frowned.

"I don't really want to fight for it. Why don't I just give it to you?"

Moomin swished his tail.

"You can't just give it to me, I don't think."

"I don't see why--"

Suddenly, there was wrathful screaming from below, and they both turned to look. Little My's eyes were sharp and gleaming and she was galloping through the woods like a terrifying little beast, exclaiming,

"Oh no you don't you're going down!"

Moomin's fur fluffed and he yelped,

"We'd better decide now!"

Snufkin took a second to weigh his options, and then a rather sneaky smile overtook him.

"Why don't we take the flag together?"

Moomin looked at him in confusion and exclaimed,

"We're on different teams, Snufkin!"

Snufkin grabbed Moomin's paw and grinned at him.

"Wanna make a new team?"

By now, Little My's terrifying pace had carried her up the hill and she was scrambling over the loose dirt, nearly within striking distance. Together, Moomin and Snufkin broke into a cold run, tearing down the hill like they were fleeing the wind itself.

Moomin let out a whoop, his legs and lungs burning and yet feeling positively elated. Snufkin laughed, waving the blue flag defiantly in one hand while the other hand clung to Moomin's paw like a lifeline, and as they ran they could hear Little My chasing after, indignant shouts echoing through the woods:

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING GET BACK HERE, THAT'S OUT OF BOUNDS AND YOU CAN'T BOTH TAKE IT--"

They ran and laughed and they didn't even know where they were headed, but they really didn't care.

Another time, when Snufkin held Moomin's paw, it wasn't a goodbye, it was a promise.

That year was harder than the others had been. It was still a lovely day in spring, when the bees were swarming on the fields of lavender and Moominmama was making cherry pies, when Snufkin told him about his winter plans. He said he'd learned some fantastic tales about an island he wanted to visit, and that he was going to book passage on a boat to get there.

"It's . . . quite a long voyage," he'd told him, with a wary look in his eye. Moomin still remembered how he'd felt a sudden pit in his stomach, and the cold wave of dread that followed it.

"H-how long?"

"Longer than a single winter," Snufkin admitted.

"So you'll be leaving early," Moomin surmised, the words sour in his throat.

"Or returning late," Snufkin said, looking at him calmly.

"I thought . . . I'd ask what you'd prefer."

Moomin balked at the thought.

"I-I, uh, I'm not sure, I . . ."

"It's ok, Moomin. Just think about it."

Moomin did think about it. He agonized over it, in fact. He was grateful that Snufkin was offering him a choice, which was incredibly generous and not something he'd needed to do at all. He knew Snufkin had meant it as something to help ease the blow, for he knew how terribly Moomin missed him when he was gone. But the problem was the choice itself was so impossible to even make. Send Snufkin away early this year, before the leaves had even fallen? Or enjoy a full spring and fall, but sit in the shadow of the knowledge that Snufkin wouldn't be returning until the middle or end of spring next year?

Moomin fussed over it until he felt sick. Perhaps it was just his weakness, but he eventually chose the option of Snufkin returning late. The idea of waking to the first day of spring without Snufkin there felt wrong on so many levels, that Moomin could not begin to describe it, and yet . . . and yet the idea of Snufkin leaving that early was something he hated even more. He knew that future Moomin would suffer and regret the choice, but current Moomin was selfish.

Snufkin, of course, had brought it up quite early in the year with the idea of giving Moomin plenty of time to mentally prepare for it. Again, it was a very thoughtful thing to do, and Moomin had to admit to himself, if it had been sprung on him last-minute, he's pretty sure he would have just spent the winter in anguish and wouldn't even be able to sleep. Yet, again, as merciful as it was, it was also difficult. Because it meant that Moomin knew what was coming for a rather long time. It gave him a lot of time to dwell on it. Even when the spring was still so young, and they spent the hours wandering the beach together or goofing off with their friends or launching into a new building project, in the back of Moomin's head, he thought of how next year would not be quite so delightful.

Still, Moomin did his best to focus on the present. And when he sometimes got a sad, distant sort of look in his eye, Snufkin seemed to know what he was thinking about. His friend always tried to snap him out of it, remind him of the beauty of what they were doing, here and now. It usually worked, and Moomin had to admit they had a very wonderful spring.

As the first notes of autumn appeared, though, and the breeze turned just a little bit nippy, it grew harder for Moomin to remain sanguine. And that was frustrating for him, because he berated himself for feeling that way. He told himself that he was being very silly, that he was overreacting and it was childish. So what if Snufkin wanted to go on a longer trip for a change? It wasn't as though he was never returning. Moomin should be perfectly capable of going on with life without Snufkin for a while. He needed to stop being like this, because his gloominess was just going to bring everyone else down.

As much as he fought it, though, he couldn't seem to help how he felt. Five or six months wasn't very long in the grand scheme of things, but when you were living it day-to-day, it could feel like an entire chapter in your life. And life without Snufkin, well, it's not as though it was completely miserable. But it . . . it really wasn't the same. Snufkin knew him in ways that no one else did, and they could speak of things he really couldn't with anyone else. Not only that, but Snufkin's mere presence itself radiated joy into Moomin's life like no other. Something about the way Snufkin thought, about the way he lived, about his energy, his imagination, his ideas, his spirit . . . it cast the entire world in a new light for Moomin. The whole world was so much more exciting and delightful when Snufkin was around. Even Moomin was more wonderful and delightful when Snufkin was around. So, it was hard to face the idea of so much time with all that missing.

Maybe even harder, though, were the little whispers of worries in Moomin's mind. The voices that asked if maybe Snufkin might start to grow very fond of all the exciting new things he was doing, all the new people he was meeting, all the new places he was seeing. Perhaps Moominvalley would be pushed further and further from his mind. He might start to grow used to a different sort of life, and he might be tempted to stay just a bit longer, and then just a bit longer. And what if those 'just a bit longers' started to bleed into just a bit longer still? Until, not intentionally, but all just the same, Moomin would fade from the forefront of his mind. And then, perhaps . . . he'd fade entirely.

It wasn't so radical an idea. So, yes, Moomin did still worry that Snufkin may never return.

Autumn passed both very slowly and very quickly. They had some pleasant trips, but Moomin was usually solemn. He would often take walks alone in the woods, watching the leaves fading from green to yellow, orange and brown, and he would glumly think to himself. He did this because he was trying to avoid being so obviously gloomy around others, not wanting them to catch on to how he was really feeling.

Snufkin knew anyway, of course. Moomin could never hide anything from him.

When the land began to chill and the first snow finally fell on Moominvalley, Moomin found himself in the moment that he had been dreading. He stood on the little bridge overlooking the half-frozen river, right beside where Snufkin liked to pitch his tent. Snufkin, wrapped tight in his scarf, back laden with all his earthly possessions, stood there in silence. A few snowflakes were drifting down, wisping around his friend like he was some sort of wintery wraith.

Moomin thought he was going to manage to remain calm this year and not make a scene. After all, he felt more glum than he did anxious. But as he stood there and looked at Snufkin, his wonderful Snufkin, all packed up and ready to go out into the far reaches of the world, Moomin felt the tears come as rapidly and easily as they always did.

Moomin turned his head, swiping quickly at his eyes with his paws.

"I-I'm sorry," he muttered, embarrassed.

"For what? For crying?"

Moomin nodded. Snufkin took a step closer, his hazel eyes full of empathy.

"Oh, Moomin . . . my dear Moomintroll. Don't ever be sorry for that."

Moomin sniffled, still struggling to keep a calm expression.

"I know you don't like to see me sad when you go."

Snufkin sighed softly.

"It's true I don't like to see you sad, but you musn't ever think that means you shouldn't cry. You always express yourself so freely, Moomin, it's . . . one of the reasons I admire you so."

Hearing Snufkin talk of admiring him was too much to bear, and Moomin's eyes welled up, tears streaking down his fur. Something in Snufkin seemed to break, for his face crumpled into such a stark expression of sorrow.

And then suddenly, he reached down and took up both of Moomin's paws, pressing their palms together and threading his fingers with Moomin's. He pulled Moomin close, gripping his paws tightly and gazing directly into his eyes, their foreheads nearly touching. He looked so serious, more serious than Moomin had ever seen.

In a low, soft voice, Snufkin told him,

"I'll come back, Moomin. I promise."

Moomin realized he could feel Snufkin's pulse flickering through his fingers, and was surprised that it was beating rapidly, almost erratically, similar to his own. Their pulses seemed to almost beat as one.

Moomin pressed his forehead against Snufkin's, closing his eyes and letting his tears fall. He drew in a shaky breath.

"Okay."

Years later, Moomin no longer needed the keep memories like these carefully tucked away, like a collection of something so rare and precious that it needed to be perfectly preserved. Because now, the memories overflowed in their abundance, nearly endless in their variety and richness. They made new memories each and every day, as the two friends grew closer and learned so much more about each other.

But despite all that they had shared, when the day came to tell Moomin's parents something important, it was that same simple gesture that seemed to work best.

"T-they're both in the kitchen," Moomin muttered to Snufkin as he slipped back into the hall. Snufkin looked at him, uncertain. Quietly, he asked,

"Are you okay?"

Moomin nodded.

"Y-yeah, I'm not sure why I'm so nervous. I guess I just . . . oh, you know how I overthink things. I'm ready, if you are."

Snufkin smiled and nodded.

Okay. Moomin turned and entered the kitchen, with Snufkin right behind.

As they came into the room, Moominmama looked up from washing dishes, little soap suds all over her paws. She smiled and said,

"Why, hello there Snufkin, it's so nice to see you. We haven't seen you around for a few days now."

Moominpapa glanced up from the newspaper he'd been perusing, humming,

"Hmm, Snufkin, the fish been biting, or are they still giving you trouble?"

Snufkin smiled and said,

"I caught a rainbow trout yesterday, actually. Around this big!" He gestured an impressive length.

"Good, good," Moominpapa said, sipping his coffee.

"Just remember, if you ever run into a dry spell, we're always happy to have you join us here for supper."

"Oh, yes, definitely," Moominmama said, smiling as she rinsed a plate.

"That's very kind of you, thank you," Snufkin said sincerely. He glanced to Moomin, trying to encourage him with his gaze.

Moomin cleared his throat and flicked his tail nervously,

"A-actually, there was something we wanted to tell you both . . ."

Moominmama started soaping up another plate.

"What is it, dear?"

Moomin swallowed, feeling tongue-tied.

"W-well, you see, Snufkin and I, w-we . . . um . . ."

His face reddened. He had this all planned out, but somehow getting the words out was a lot harder than he'd thought.

Moominmama looked at him when he trailed off. Kindly, she asked,

"Well, what is it, Moomin?"

Moominpapa glanced over the top of his paper again, raising a curious brow.

Moomin started again,

"Snufkin and I, we wanted to tell you, that, erm, we're . . ."

Wordlessly, Snufkin reached out and took Moomin's paw, clasping it tight and looking back to Moominmama.

Moomin blushed, embarrassed, but elated at Snufkin's easy openness.

"We're together," Moomin finally said, giving his tail a swish. Then, he added,

"B-boyfriends, I mean. We're boyfriends."

Moominmama smiled lightly at the both of them and rinsed off the dish, replying,

"Yes, dear. We're both so happy for you two. You've been so wonderful for each other."

Moominpapa nodded and sipped his coffee.

"Yes, of course. We're proud of both you boys."

Then he turned back to his paper. Moomin blinked. He glanced at Snufkin.

"Umm . . . but . . . aren't you, uh, surprised?"

Moominmama chuckled, and then ruffled her son's hair fondly.

"I'm afraid not," she admitted,

"We've known for a rather long time now."

"Oh," Moomin said. Snufkin squeezed his paw and laughed, and Moomin felt impossibly happy and warm.

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(If you want more Snufmin and some action/adventure, you can check out my current multi-chapter WIP, Fleeting Fireflies. Deltarune crossover, but you don’t need any knowledge of Deltarune to read!)

#moomin #moomin fanfic #snufmin #snufmin appreciation week #mystuff #hooray let's fill a snufmin fic prompt 2 years late!! :D :D #springdove #my moomin fanfic

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demonn-pilloww · 5 years

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Snufmin week day 6 "Kisses"

#snufmin week 2019 #snufmin week #snufmin appreciation week #snufmin #springdove #the moomins #moomins #doodles #my art #snufkin #moomintroll

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darlin-dearest · 5 years

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Day One: Flowers💐

Did a comic to start off with a bang! You can add some dialogue, because I never will ;)

#snufkin #moomin #moominvalley #snufmin #snufmoom #snufmim #snufmin appreciation week #flowers

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roxannarambles · 3 years

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snufmin prompt: fancy/formal

the final super-late prompt filled! (most folks drew snufmin in fancy outfits or wrote about them going to a fancy party, so wanted something a little bit different :D)

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When Moomin finally immerged from the forest, bruised, hungry, irritated, and absolutely exhausted, he'd never been so glad to spot the familiar column of smoke rising from Snufkin's campsite. He moved toward it immediately, as if it was a beacon of tranquility calling to him.

As he reached the camp, he found Snufkin sprinkling some herbs into the old cooking pot over the fire. His friend looked up in surprise.

"Oh, Moomin! I didn't expect to see you back so early."

Moomin wasted no time and flopped down on one of the overturned logs that Snufkin used as a seat. He heaved a sigh.

"Yeah," he acknowledged in a sullen voice.

Snufkin gave him a curious look, then asked,

"So the fancy dress ball didn't turn out very well?"

"Hmph," Moomin muttered, dropping his chin into his paws, dejectedly.

"I'm afraid not."

Snufkin came to sit beside Moomin and touched his shoulder sympathetically.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I know how much you were looking forward to it. What happened, exactly?"

Moomin shook his head and asked,

"Where do I even start? Goodness, the whole evening was awful."

He gave a dry laugh and then sighed. Snufkin gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Sounds like it's a long story. Why don't you tell me about it while I work?"

Moomin nodded and watched Snufkin move to the flat rock beside the cooking pot, where he'd placed some mushrooms. As he chopped, Moomin tried to work out the kink in his back and began his story.

"Well, you know how excited Snorkmaiden was about this whole thing. She's been talking about it for over a month now, I swear. Especially since we both missed the dress party last year, when Snorkmaiden lost her costume and we were so busy with saving my canoe.”

“Mm-hm, I remember that.”

Moomin nodded.

“So it seemed like we finally had a chance to see what we'd missed. Plus, we put so much work into our costumes this time. It must have taken us at least two weeks to put them together!"

Snufkin looked up from his work and said,

"Yes, I noticed you're no longer wearing yours. What happened?"

Moomin waved his paw.

"Ugh, I couldn't stand it anymore and took it off while I was walking back. I'll gather the pieces up tomorrow."

"Aaah," Snufkin intoned, understanding,

"Not very comfortable, then. It did seem rather heavy."

Moomin snorted.

"I should have realized how dreadful it would be to actually wear it. I never should have decided to go as a Black Knight. How do they do it, I wonder? Running about and fighting and all that? It was awful just walking to the party in all that armor, let alone doing anything else!"

"I suppose they felt the knightly thing to do was suffer it quietly."

"Hmph! The face-guard kept falling down and covering my eyes, and the joints at the elbows and knees kept pinching me, and I'm all bruised now from it."

"Oh, dear. You're right, that doesn't sound pleasant."

Moomin gestured widely as he added,

"And Snorkmaiden kept telling me I should just ignore it! Easy for her to say, her wig and stuff didn't weigh thirty pounds and wasn't pinching her!"

Snufkin dropped the chopped mushrooms into the pot, and they were quiet a moment. Then Snufkin asked,

"Was there anything you were able to enjoy, at least? The grand banquet, perhaps?"

"Hah," Moomin exclaimed, crossing his arms.

"I'll tell you how it went. We walked to the fancy ball, and my face guard kept falling over my eyes, and I even walked into a tree at some point. Snorkmaiden had to guide me along so I wouldn't fall on my face. By the time we'd gotten to the mansion, I was already sweaty and the armor felt so heavy and I was very annoyed. So we decided to try and get some food before dancing."

Snufkin nodded as he stirred the pot on the fire, listening. Moomin continued,

"But it wasn't normal food, like I was expecting. It was sort of rich people food? It was all very strange and I didn't recognize any of it. I tried this pink goopy stuff, but it tasted terrible. And there was something they called 'caviar.' Snorkmaiden said it was fish eggs and it was some sort of delicacy."

"Mm, yes, I've heard of that."

Moomin made a face.

"It was way too salty. There were lots of other things, too, cheeses and wine and these crackers that had little tiny pieces of some kind of mushroom. I guess some of them tasted all right, but the servings were very small! I don't know, it just wasn't very satisfying."

Moomin rubbed his tummy and groused,

"So I didn't have very much and I've been hungry this whole time."

Snufkin took up one of his old bowls and dunked it into the cooking pot, then held it aloft.

"In that case, would you like some stew?"

Moomin looked at him like he was offering him the finest thing imaginable.

"Oh yes please yes I'm starving."

Snufkin gave him the stew and a spoon, and then got his own bowl and sat beside him. Moomin practically inhaled his food, slurping noisily, which was probably rude, but he knew Snufkin didn't care anyway.

Between bites, Moomin enthused,

"Snufkin, this is amazing. Did you do anything differently?"

Snufkin shrugged.

"Not really, just the usual ingredients I use."

Moomin chomped down some mushrooms and said,

"I guess it's just always this good."

When Moomin polished off his first small bowl, Snufkin asked if he wanted seconds. He gratefully accepted. As they ate, Snufkin told a small story about some little creeps he had met the other day who were fleeing from a hunter. His tale of how he helped them escape was a pleasant distraction for Moomin. Before long, much of the tension of the party had drained away from Moomin, relaxed by the soothing presence of his friend, the crackling campfire, and good food.

After they'd finished their late meal, Moomin leaned back with a sigh.

"Thanks for that, Snufkin. That really hit the spot."

Snufkin smiled, telling his friend,

"I'm glad. I wasn't about to let you go hungry, after all."

As Snufkin cleared away the dishes, he added,

"And I'm sorry you didn't enjoy the fancy ball. Did you have fun dancing, at least?"

Moomin laughed, thinking back to the mess of a party.

"I wish I did, but not really. The music was nice, I suppose. They had this great big band, with fancy-looking instruments. You might have liked hearing those. Oh, but the actual dancing, Snufkin, well! Everyone was dancing so stiffly, you know. They were all so serious."

Snufkin hummed,

"Were they? That's a shame."

Moomin sat up, puffing his chest in an exaggerated imitation of the dancers as he said,

"Snorkmaiden said they were being very 'graceful', dancing that way. It seemed to impress her a lot, and she kept saying how beautiful it was. Pffeh. To me it just looked like they'd all gotten sticks crammed up their rears."

Snufkin tried, and failed, to smother the laughter that bubbled out of him at that. Moomin swished his tail, always feeling a little proud and giddy when he could make Snufkin laugh. He continued his story:

"She wanted us to dance like that too, of course. So I tried, but it wasn't very fun, I'll say. Not to mention pretty hard with all that armor on. I think you can imagine."

"I can't, but I definitely believe you. I'm not surprised you had a rough time of it."

Moomin plunked his chin into his paw.

"Yeah. It wasn't just that, though. I felt like everyone was watching us, too! Judging how well we were dancing, every single step. It was actually pretty stressful."

Finished with the dishes, Snufkin came to stand beside Moomin again. He seemed to think for a moment, and then a playful smile crossed his face. He reached a hand out to Moomin.

"Want to dance now that nobody's watching?"

Moomin blinked. Somehow, Snufkin always managed to surprise him. He could never quite guess what it was that Snufkin would say, or what he might end up doing. But it usually seemed to be just the sort of thing Moomin needed.

So Moomin reached out and giggled as he took Snufkin's hand.

There wasn't any music, of course, but Snufkin hummed as they danced, and Moomin picked it up and hummed along; one of the light, spritely, cheerful songs that Snufkin often played on his mouth-organ. They bounced and twirled, sweeping around in the grass, without any sort of grace. Yet it was wonderful, just fooling about with Snufkin, swinging him around in his paws, gifted with the sound of his friend's laughter. He danced as silly as he could, trying to earn as much of that beautiful laughter as possible.

This turned into a contest, and they both grew more and more dramatic with their silly dances, kicking, cartwheeling, flailing and leaping. Moomin began to get lightheaded from laughing and dancing so hard. As he gave another big twirl, tugging Snufkin along, his footing slipped and they went tumbling down to the ground together. Exhausted, they lay in the cool grass, catching their breath.

After a bit, Moomin murmured pleasantly,

"That was much nicer than before. I don't think I'm cut out for fancy things."

Snufkin grinned, looking pleased and still buoyant from their antics. He asked lightly,

"Anything else from the party you'd like to do over, then?"

Moomin smiled, his mind drifting over his evening at the fancy ball; putting that blasted costume on, walking over there, enduring the weird banquet, all the uncomfortable dancing . . . what else?

Snufkin's bright eyes were still on him when he suddenly thought of something, but Moomin immediately felt his face flush hot. Oh, no, not that-- why did that even jump into his head?

Curious, Snufkin asked,

"Think of something?"

Moomin coughed and squawked,

"N-no! I mean, uh, um . . ."

Think of something else, quick. Moomin's mind scrambled for anything.

"Oh, uhh, well, the dates, um, brought gifts right before the party? But really, they weren't different kinds of gifts. They were just expected to bring a flower for their date to wear. A corsage, they called it. I guess it's some kind of fancy party tradition?"

Snufkin looked thoughtful. Moomin realized what had come out of his mouth hadn't made much sense and he added,

"Not that I'm saying we need to give each other gifts! Uhhm, it was just something I thought of that had to do with the party. You know what, never mind, I'm just being silly."

Snufkin sat up and shook his head.

"No, no, I think it's a fine idea."

Moomin looked at him, confused.

"You do?"

Snufkin shrugged, answering,

"Well why shouldn't I give my friend something, if it'll make his grueling evening a bit nicer?"

Moomin sat up and made a face.

"Now I can't tell if you're teasing me."

Snufkin ignored him, appearing deep in thought. He murmured,

"I could give you a flower, of course, but you already were given that. And besides, we're trying to be less fancy here."

Moomin chuckled.

"What, then? A handful of dirt, maybe."

Snufkin hummed,

"That's a good idea, but let's see . . ."

Amused, Moomin watched his friend struggle for a bit, wondering what ridiculous thing he'd think of. Then, a light came on in Snufkin's eyes. He stood, helping pull Moomin to his feet.

"I've got it."

Moomin tilted a curious ear and waited, swishing his tail. Snufkin reached into the pockets of his smock, and pulled out an object.

"Hold out your hand."

Snufkin dropped the object into Moomin's paw. It looked like a small, white rock.

"A rock?" Moomin asked, studying it. Snufkin nodded.

"I kept it because it reminded me of you. You see how it's shaped? That part right there looks just like your snout, and right here, your belly? And this groove here kind of looks like a tail. Well, if you imagine hard enough, at least."

Moomin stared at the rock in his paw. Then he stared at Snufkin.

He asked, his voice wavering slightly,

"Y-you . . . really kept this rock because it reminded you of me?"

Snufkin nodded.

"Mm-hm."

Moomin stared again at the rock and started to choke up. Perhaps from someone else, it wasn't so grand a thing, but coming from Snufkin, it felt positively enormous.

"S-snufkin, that's . . . that's so terribly sweet of you. I, I-- gosh, when did you find this?"

Snufkin suddenly looked caught out. His eyes flicked to one side, and then he muttered something, but it was entirely unintelligible. Moomin leaned forward, asking,

"What?"

Snufkin tugged the brim of his cap over his eyes before repeating in an embarrassed mumble,

"Maybe a year or so."

Moomin's tummy flip-flopped like he was in a free-fall, and he about died on the spot. Unable to keep the pure glee from his voice, he gasped,

"A year? Really?!"

Snufkin squirmed, clearly blushing now. He said,

"More or less."

So-- not only did Snufkin pick up a rock and feel sappy enough to think it looked like Moomin and held onto it, he had carried it around in his pocket for an entire year? And possibly longer? Moomin's smile was so wide he thought his face might split. Practically vibrating, he grabbed hold of Snufkin's hand and pushed the little rock back into it. He gushed,

"I want you to keep it! That would make me happier than anything!"

Plainly embarrassed, Snufkin put the rock back in his pocket. He answered quietly,

"A-all right. Moomin, really now, it's not that strange a thing. I just happened to find it . . ."

Moomin grinned, his tail swishing back and forth.

"And keep it for a year, when you hardly hold onto anything?"

Snufkin grunted, like the truth had physically knocked against his chest. Looking up at him from behind his hat, he admitted,

"All right, yes, I suppose so. Goodness, you're certainly happy; seems I've done my job well."

Moomin squeezed Snufkin's hands and laughed, bright and free.

"You have! Thank you."

Snufkin did seem pleased with how happy Moomin was, but he also seemed eager to change subjects and not dwell too much on how secretly sentimental he was. So he said,

"Was that everything, then? We ate, we danced, we gifted. Anything else you'd like a do-over on?"

Moomin froze, not expecting to have the question aimed at him again.

"Uhhmm," he stammered, and his thoughts unhelpfully narrowed down on one singular thing, the only thing left he could really think of to do with the fancy ball that night and all the traditions associated with it.

Unfortunately, Snufkin could see he had something in mind. In a lightly teasing voice, he said,

"Go ahead. We'd like to turn this around into the perfect evening, don't we?"

Moomin felt a blush creeping in and mentally cursed. Did Snufkin have any idea what he was stumbling into? Well, he was about to.

"Well, uhh . . . there sort of is one other thing . . . uh."

Snufkin raised his brows and waited. Moomin cleared his throat and forced out,

"At the end of a fancy ball, you're expected to kiss your date goodnight. That's the etiquette."

Snufkin's eyes widened and Moomin instantly felt ridiculous for having said it.

"Not that we're dates or anything of course, it's just you asked, and that was all I could think of--"

Snufkin laughed and interrupted,

"No, I understand. It makes sense."

Moomin released a breath he'd been holding; thank goodness, he wasn't taking what he said as an actual request.

"A kiss goodnight. That would be the proper etiquette," Snufkin said mildly. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes still on Moomin.

It took exactly the length of that moment for Moomin to realize something in Snufkin's eyes made it look as though he was quietly considering something.

Moomin's heart shot into his throat faster than it ever had and he blurted in a raw panic,

"But that doesn't mean you have to--"

Too late, Snufkin had already reached for his paw and clasped it. Moomin's face was on fire, but Snufkin didn't lean in like he had expected.

Instead, he kneeled down and, with a degree of tenderness that positively ached, he placed a warm, lingering kiss on the back of Moomin's paw.

Moomin felt his heart melt instantly into a pathetic puddle, his knees wobbling. Just the feel of Snufkin's breath tickling his paw as he kissed him was enough to destroy any last bit of composure he had. And when Snufkin lifted his head and stood back up, still holding Moomin's paw and looking at him with those eyes of his-- those eyes, so delightful and warm, so mirthful and mischevious, so vibrant--

Well, Moomin felt as though he was falling a thousand times more in love than he already had been, and that seemed like an impossible thing. And yet, there it was.

Something in Snufkin's eyes shifted, and he gently released Moomin's paw and spoke, sounding slightly embarassed,

"That may have been a little too fancy, actually. Sorry, I'd forgotten that wasn't the goal."

Moomin responded automatically,

"No that was perfect don't apologize!"

His brain caught up a few moments later and he blushed harder, stuttering,

"I mean um, uh, it, I-- it, it was, it was good, you did fine."

Snufkin grinned.

"All right, good. I suppose that means I won't need to give you the unfancy version, then?"

Moomin's ears twitched as he tried to process that, then he balked, turning pure scarlet. He uttered,

"Khhrhhh!?"

Snufkin tipped his hat, cheerfully saying,

"Goodnight, then!"

It took some time for Moomin to realize Snufkin was wishing him a goodnight because, indeed, that was what you did after a goodnight kiss. When he finally understood, he answered weakly,

“G . . . g-goodnight.”

#moomin #snufmin #moomin fanfic #springdove #snufmin appreciation week #mystuff #fancy/formal #fluff #long post #my moomin fanfic

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randomfandomfamily · 5 years

Text

Snufmin Appreciation Week

Day One: Flowers

Snufkin lay in the grass near a stream, watching the clouds drift by above him. Today had been a peaceful day. He and Moomintroll had been fishing most of the morning, then dodged Little My’s antics until afternoon, where they collapsed on a hillside laughing.

Moomintroll had wandered off, never one for sitting still too long, and promised to be back in a few minutes. True to his word, Snufkin heard a rustling from the forest line as Moomintroll made his way back. “Snufkin! Snufkin, look what I found!”

“What is it, Moomintroll?” Snufkin asked as Moomintroll stumbled down the hill.

Moomintroll grinned and sat down next to him. “Look at this.” Snufkin sat up to see a bundle of colorful flowers in Moomintroll’s arms. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

Snufkin nodded. “They certainly are.” He brushed his hands over the petals. “You’ve quite the variety. Where did you find them?”

“In a clearing not too far from here,” Moomintroll said excitedly. “I wish I knew how to make flower crowns like Snorkmaiden. If I did, I would make you one right now!” He gasped. “Well, maybe I could… oh, never mind.”

“Maybe you could what?” Snufkin asked.

Moomintroll fiddled with the leaves on the stems. “Well, Little My taught me how to braid the other day. Not sure why, since she never braids hers and Snorkmaiden’s is too short. And I thought I could… practice on your hair, maybe?” He shook his head. “But you’re not keen on being touched, I know, so-”

Snufkin stopped him by pulling off his hat. “Go ahead, Moomintroll. I don’t mind.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Snufkin moved to sit in front of Moomintroll. “I am not keen on being touched, no. But I trust you far more than anyone else in Moomin Valley, and I know you would never do anything to intentionally cause me discomfort.”

Moomintroll set the flowers beside him. “Well, alright. As long as you’re sure.” His paws combed through Snufkin’s hair, carefully pulling apart any tangles. “You know, I so rarely see you without your hat.”

“I find comfort in it.” Snufkin also found comfort in Moomintroll’s paws running through his hair. It was different, but it was nice. “People pay less attention to a stranger in a hat.”

“It’s a shame, though,” Moomintroll said. “You have such pretty hair.”

Snufkin turned to look at Moomintroll in surprise. “You think so?”

Moomintroll shrugged. “Yeah. It’s, like, this really nice brown color. Unless you’re standing in the sun, then it almost looks red. Kind of. It’s hard to explain.” He pulled a lock into three pieces. “It’s pretty.”

“Oh.” Snufkin looked back to the stream. “I hadn’t realized.”

There was a small tug on his hair as Moomintroll started braiding. “Well, it is. And it’s going to look amazing with these flowers.” He cracked one off of its stem and placed it in the braided strands. “Mama and Snorkmaiden love flowers. They taught me about all kinds and their meanings.”

Snufkin twirled one of the red blossoms. “Oh? I wasn’t aware flowers had meaning. Care to tell?”

“Sure,” Moomintroll said, rather focused on his work and not paying much attention to what he was saying. “This orange one I just put in your hair is a zinnia, they’re used to remember absent friends.” He picked up another. “These bluish-purple ones are morning glories. They represent affection.”

“Do they now?”

“Yep.” Moomintroll picked up small white flower to place in Snufkin’s hair. “And that red one you’re holding is called a camellia, which are presented to significant others.”

Snufkin stared at the flower in his hand. “Interesting.”

Moomintroll picked up another from the pile. “I know.” He began a new braid. “And those white peonies represent romance and marriage.”

The stream rolled along merrily in the silence between them before Snufkin said, “Those are… rather intimate meanings, aren’t they?”

“Hm?” Moomintroll paused. “Oh! Yes, well… I suppose they are.” He was suddenly embarrassed. “I didn’t even realize when I picked them, honest.”

Snufkin set aside the camellia. Truth be told, he was more flattered than he was anything else. “Don’t worry, Moomintroll. I don’t mind it.”

The hold on Snufkin’s hair loosened. “You… you don’t?”

“No,” said Snufkin. “In fact, I find it quite endearing.” Moomintroll couldn’t see it, but Snufkin didn’t look half as confident as he sounded. Admitting he didn’t mind flowers of romance and affection being presented to him by Moomintroll? It was unlike him, and yet it was the truth.

Moomintroll resumed braiding, feeling relieved. “Good. I was worried you’d be upset.” He placed the camellia Snufkin had set down in the braid. “I learned a new flower meaning just this spring, if you’re interested.”

“I’m fairly interested in anything you have to say, Moomintroll.” Snufkin relaxed, the moment of embarrassment passed.

The Moomin laughed as he picked another strand to braid. “Snorkmaiden came to me with a few snowdrops after we woke from hibernation.”

“Is that so?” Snufkin recalled his time in the woods. Just before arriving, he had imagined a conversation with Moomintroll holding a snowdrop. “And what do snowdrops mean?”

“Snorkmaiden told me they herald the return of loved ones.”

Snufkin coughed to cover his shock. “O-oh really? That um… that’s very fascinating.”

“Isn’t it? She wanted to collect a bundle of them to increase our love or something,” Moomintroll explained. “Though I’m not sure if that’s how it works. I’m sure just one snowdrop would be enough to express your love to a returning special someone. Especially if you haven’t seen them in a while.”

The vivid memory of Moomintroll with a snowdrop seemed to be mocking him. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“Would you like to hear some more?” Moomintroll asked. “I might not have them exactly right, but Mama has taught me a whole book full of flowers.”

Snufkin nodded. “I would love to hear more, Moomintroll.” It would keep his mind off seeing his best friend holding a snowdrop.

They spent the whole afternoon chatting while Moomintroll braided his hair. And when he finished, Snufkin peered into the stream, impressed by Moomintroll’s skill.

And Moomintroll wondered if Snufkin knew how wonderful he looked adorned with such a colorful display.

#snufmin week 2019 #snufmin #snufkin #moomintroll #moomin #moomin valley

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spearmiints · 5 years

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snufmin appreciation week is here! day one’s prompt is flowers

#moomin #snufkin #snufmin #springdove #snufmin week 2019 #moominvalley #pebbermiints

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randomfandomfamily · 5 years

Text

Snufmin Appreciation Week

Day 2: Home

Moomintroll dashed through the rain. “Come on, Snufkin, you’ll be soaked!”

“I’m already soaked, Moomintroll!” Snufkin called back. “It is raining quite hard, you know!” And raining hard, it was. What started out as just a few drops of rain had turned into a downpour in a matter of minutes.

The boys found shelter on the front porch, Moomintroll attempting to shake himself dry. “That came out of nowhere, didn’t it?”

“Indeed.” Snufkin gazed out at the storm. “I suppose I should be finding a cave for the night.” He didn’t fancy going back out into the rain, but it was necessary if he wanted to find shelter.

Moomintroll was appalled that Snufkin would even think about going back out there. “What? Absolutely not!”

“I’ll be quite alright,” Snufkin assured him. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been caught in a storm. Remember that time the valley flooded?”

“You had time to prepare then,” Moomintroll argued. “But it’s already pouring, there’ll be lightning soon.”

Snufkin knew Moomintroll was right. He had time to pack his things before the last storm got bad enough to drive him out. If he went out now he’d end up sick by the time he found shelter.

Before Snufkin could argue anymore, Moomintroll grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the house. “Come on, now. Before you catch a cold. I’m sure Mama and Papa won’t mind you staying the night.”

Moomintroll closed the door behind them and shook himself out. Snufkin tried to withhold as his fur ruffled, standing up in damp peaks. His amusement must have shown, because Moomintroll glanced at him, smiling curiously. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Snufkin said. “It’s just… your fur.” Moomintroll looked down at himself, looking embarrassed. Snufkin couldn’t help but chuckle as he quickly tried to smooth his fur down.

“Moomintroll?” Moominmama called from the kitchen. “Is that you?”

“Yes, Mama!” Moomintroll called back. “And Snufkin as well!” He gave the fur on his arms a couple more swipes, swatting Snufkin on the arm for the muffled laugh that followed.

Mama popped her head into the living room, oven mitts over her paws. “Oh, Snufkin, dear! I’m so glad you’re out of the storm!”

“I was quite hoping they were still in it,” a familiar voice said from the couch. “Particularly the vagabond. It might wash away that homeless stench of his.”

Snufkin smiled, knowing full well that Little My was joking. They had a mutual understanding after liberating the park from its precious keeper. Teasing had become common between them.

Moomintroll, on the other hand, didn’t seem to understand she was joking. “Little My! Don’t talk to Snufkin that way!”

Little My rolled her eyes. “Pipe down, you.” She hopped off the couch and strolled over to the dinner table. “He knows I was joking.”

“Indeed I do,” Snufkin said. “Don’t worry, Moomintroll. She doesn’t mean any harm.” Moomintroll didn’t like how easily Snufkin brushed off Little My’s comment, but he supposed it wasn’t worth starting a fight over if Snufkin wasn’t mad.

Mama smiled at the boys. “Alright, you two. Come and have some supper.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” Snufkin said politely.

Moomintroll nudged him. “Don’t be silly, Snufkin.” His friend being a burden in their home, what an absolutely ridiculous notion. How could Snufkin possibly think he was intruding? Didn’t he know he was welcome anytime?

Snufkin followed him to the dinner table, albeit reluctantly, and took a seat next to him. Moomintroll was admittedly excited to have Snufkin over for dinner. Is wasn’t often Snufkin was in the house for longer than a minute or two, and Moomintroll couldn’t think of a time he had stayed for a meal.

I’ll fetch Moominpapa from his study,” said Moominmama. “You kids behave and I’ll be back in a moment.”

Moominmama returned with Moominpapa a mere two minutes later, but it felt much longer with Little My staring them down. Moomintroll wondered what was going through her head that warranted a smile so knowing and secretive.

“Ah, Snufkin!” Moominpapa greeted as he took his seat at the head of the table. “Good of you to join us. Waiting out the storm, I presume.”

Snufkin nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m afraid I didn’t have time to find proper shelter.”

Moominpapa waved him off. “Proper shelter or no, you’re always welcome here.”

Moomintroll didn’t miss Snufkin’s discomfort. “But this is your home,” he said, “Not mine.”

“Nonsense, dear.” Moominmama set a bowl in front of Snufkin. “Our home is your home. After all, home is where the heart is.”

Moomintroll snickered. “I reckon Little My’s quite homeless then.” He was pleased to hear Snufkin give a small laugh, the discomfort from before dissipating.

Little My slammed her hands on the table. “Are you saying I haven’t got a heart?”

“Your words, not mine,” Moomintroll replied innocently.

Her arms crossed. “Well, I’d rather have no heart at all than the one your wear on your sleeve. If love is all it takes to make a home...” She nodded to Snufkin. “Then your love for that one could power a town full of them.”

Snufkin felt heat rising to his face, but tried not to outwardly show how embarrassed he was. Moomintroll was less successful, shouting at Little My throughout the duration of dinner, Moominmama and Moominpapa laughing as they fought.

What she said made Snufkin think, though. There wasn’t a particular place he called home as he never grew attached to any town or village he visited. His heart had no place anywhere, despite his many travels.

Snufkin wondered if home could be a person, rather than a place. Moomintroll had captured his fondness unlike anything he had ever known. There was something about the young Moomin that made him feel comfortable, even in the worst situations.

He decided that if home is truly where the heart is, then there was no better home than Moomintroll.

#Snufmin Week 2019 #snufmin #snufkin #moomintroll #moomin #moomin valley

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