I draw porn but not any of that sick nasty perverted sicko misogynist fetish porn made by and for disgusting sicknasty pervert men my porn is so cute and wholesome and feminist and queer and liberated trust me it's not even porn it's erotica my erotica is a pure honest true expression of human passions and emotions and the pure chaste passions of feminist lesbian wombyns trust me you'll love it it's so liberating see for yourself *hands you a drawing of Snufkin sucking his own penis*
hrgh PLEASE don’t follow this acc if you’re under 18 I get that yeah I can be funny sometimes but I just had to softblock someone who was only 14 following here and tumblr’s filters on allowing adult content and keeping it away from minors are absolute shit and I’m already staying out of 99% of main tags so please if you’re a minor just STAY BACK or I’ll block you for good
My sister noticed my plush Groke keychain on my moomin bag earlier and asked about her so I explained what she represents etc. but then said “but she’s nice! she just wants warmth and love.”
It had been a night almost like any other night, and yet ever since then the Groke has been unable to let its memory slip from her mind.
A man-- big, but frightened-- had caught sight of her in a dark forest. She'd been drawn to his lantern's light, and in a panic he'd grabbed his rifle and taken aim to shoot her. Of course, a bullet would've done next to nothing to damage her cold-hardened body, so she wasn't afraid. But then something strange happened.
A tiny woman emerged from behind the man and lowered his gun with her paw. She'd said something to him the Groke couldn't make out, before kneeling down and turning off the lantern. The man was still alarmed, exclaiming all kinds of fearful and unkind things about the Groke. The Groke had been displeased that the light was gone, until she heard Too-ticky speak:
"She's no monster. The poor thing just wanted to try and warm yourself with your lantern. She can't help being so cold and strange-looking, it's just the way she is."
The man had been saying something else then, but the Groke was only paying attention to Too-ticky. She couldn't see her very clearly, but she saw that she was nicely rounded and wore a sweet little cap on her head. The Groke slithered back into the shadows, but as she resumed her wanderings she'd found herself unable to stop thinking about that tiny woman.
And she's been thinking about her ever since.
"She's no monster."
"Poor thing."
"It's just the way she is."
The words ring endlessly around inside the Groke's cold old skull. Where they might otherwise have grown dim and vague, they only grow clearer and stronger with time. And once she finally gets a good look at Too-ticky's face, it feels the same as when she's gazing into firelight. She wants to see Too-ticky again and again.
Of course, she tries not to look like she's following her when they cross paths. The Groke keeps to her usual strolling about the snow, but is sure to make a line right to Too-ticky if ever she's got a snow lantern lit. The Groke had once imagined Too-ticky lighting a snow lantern just for her, and the thought had made her vision blur a moment and her heart flutter.
The Groke isn't sure where she learned Too-ticky's name, but that's not important to her. She's pleased to know it at all. She wonders how Too-ticky would feel about her knowing her name, and realizes that she's never memorized anyone else's name before unless they've been her enemy. She isn't sure how to let Too-ticky know how this makes her special.
She sometimes tries saying Too-ticky's name to herself, a sort of practice in case she ever succeeds in greeting her. 'Too-ticky' is such a fun little name to say, even if it sounds like a curse when it rolls off the Groke's tongue. It's a sweet little name for a sweet little woman, and Groke likes to wonder how good it would feel if Too-ticky were sweet to her.
"Hullo, Too-ticky," the Groke croaks, her voice rumbling around the walls of her empty cave.
"Good morning, Groke," the Groke says again, this time her voice much higher and thinner. She pictures Too-ticky smiling up at her, and her heart pounds.
She also tries singing to Too-ticky. She'll hear a barrel organ playing, or see smoke coming from the bathing-house, and sometimes she'll work up the courage to make herself heard. Her singing voice is a haunting, droning sound, sad and otherworldly and-- if you're close enough-- you can even feel it in your whole body. The lights in the bathing house go out and all goes silent once Groke's finished her song, but she feels a ray of hope that Too-ticky understands. If Too-ticky knows that the Groke can't help her nature, then she surely can figure out what the Groke means by calling out to her, right? The Groke imagines Too-ticky joining along with the Groke's tune on her barrel organ, inviting her to join her laughing guests in the bathing-house, offering her a hot meal. The ray of hope she feels is almost as warm as a ray of real sunshine.
And she dreams of her, too. The Groke goes to sleep deep, deep under the snow and dreams of what would transpire between them. Too-ticky would look at her the way she looks into the pitch-black void of a winter night, smiling serenely, her blue eyes enchanted, her cheeks rosy red. And the Groke would take her into her arms and coil her long body around hers, tighter and tighter as if the wind might blow her precious Too-ticky away. She would savor the warmth radiating from her small body, the feeling of her little warm paws fumbling at her sides in the dark.
Then the Groke would pull her even closer, and Too-ticky's paws would find the Groke's face. The Groke would nuzzle her head, smelling her sun-kissed golden hair, and Too-ticky would wonderingly trace the Groke's lips and teeth. And they would press their mouths together and the Groke would taste all the warmth and love inside her; she'd drink deep the heat in her lungs, feel the beautiful tremble of her living heartbeat under her fingertips as she held her body, tasted her and gripped her so hard and so deeply that she could no longer feel where their forms would separate, and imagine that she'd shared a piece of every day Too-ticky had spent being nourished with the love and light of a world that accepted her unconditionally.
It would be rapture. Pure bliss, the two of them entwined in their love, safe from any coldness and loneliness. When all had settled, the Groke would relax her hold, caressing Too-ticky lovingly as a gesture of thanks for the warmth she'd shared with her. She would finally unwrap herself from around the smaller woman, set her gently down in the snow, and then she'd step back so she could see her face again...
... and then Too-ticky would be dead.
Of course she'd die, why wouldn't she? Too-ticky would be frozen to the core, every last drop of heat drained from her body; consumed vampire-like in the cold embrace of an unholy night-dwelling monster. The Groke doesn't like to think of it happening like that. She prefers to wake up before she's holding Too-ticky's corpse, or to spend her waking hours imagining that Too-ticky would emerge alive and well and happy to see her. She wants to believe that everything would be alright if Too-ticky accepted her.
She wants to believe that she and Too-ticky could be happy together, and be happy and warm forever.
But Too-ticky doesn't seem happy to see the Groke. Though lit up pleasantly by a candle in her paw, Too-ticky's posture is stiff. Her calm blue eyes are bright with worry. Her mouth is drawn into a straight line, and her brow is furrowed in a way that makes her look sad. Her pleasing, friendly smell is bearing the unmistakable salty tangs of sorrow and fear. The Groke looks up at her through the trees, ignoring the lit candle for the beautiful woman holding it. The light makes her look all the warmer.
Too-ticky shakes the candle in her paw out, drops it, and runs away into the darkness.
hey! just popping in to say first of all, being picky is fair lmao, you just have different likes and dislikes! and secondly I get the frustration of writer's block, and also about forgetting to write your ideas down, don't beat yourself up about it! that's the way of being creative 😢💚 good luck with your writing! :3
this has been sitting in my askbox for a little while because I wasn’t sure how to respond to this very nice and thoughtful message but thank you!
I know my about isn’t visible on mobile but it should be obvious that you should not interact with this blog if you’re under 18. It makes me very uncomfortable, and won’t be good for you, either. I don’t care if the adulthood age is lower where you live, it’s 18 where I am. If I see you interacting with my NSFW posts and find out you’re a minor I’ll just block you. 👎😷🔞
You've written plenty of murrmin, but what do you like to READ in a murrmin fic?👀 Are there any kinks, pairings, characters, etc. you wish there was more stuff of?
oof 😂👀 that reminds me I need to read some in my 'read later' thing XD
im particularly fussy but only in a few things that aren't easy to explain dnsjnd
kinks and themes and general plots (because I do love a good p with p) are a free for all, I'll read almost anything XD (with a few exceptions, I don't like borderline traumatic stuff XD) but especially like, I love if it's super nasty. anything I can't read in one sitting. jdjsjjss that's super vague. like, im all for the sweet smut, the lovely stuff, but if it's real kinky im always hooked XD plus new stuff, like I may not write very much that is actually adventurous but I love to read stuff that's wild. I'm all for hard kinks, like choking but only if it's done right, or like, yeah idk it's hard to explainnnnn /// I hate being this honest, why am I blushing sjdjjd
my main rule though is if it's angsty I'm in
and ig more joxpappa or snor-myden would never go amiss for pairings lol (or poly stuff 👀)
but my biggest wish? I want some mymbe murrmin, I've not found many I've enjoyed yet lol (mainly because most of it is with jox and although I love their pairing I can't read mxf smut djdnjsn)
jsyk asks are always open (incuding Anonymous ones atm!) and if you want to ever drop me asks that’s fine, and u can also ask for my twitter or waterfall accounts if u want; I’m more active there
this is a murrmin (Moomins N*SFW) account, and I don’t draw/write incest!
It's a drizzly day in spring, and a funny little feeling has been distracting Snufkin. Moomintroll helps him out.
Snufkin crouches over Moomintroll, face buried in the fluff of his chest. He ruts his hips against him, not caring to remove his trousers or aim himself more precisely. Moomintroll shifts his leg under Snufkin, and Snufkin gladly accepts it, rubbing against its firmer surface. He huffs and grinds his crotch hard into the thigh. Moomintroll’s fingers trail gently down one of his arms.
Sporadically, Snufkin squeezes his legs around Moomintroll’s for a few seconds before resuming his pace. His trousers are becoming quite damp, and not from the cool spring rain falling around them. The two of them are warm and safe together under a tree.
Snufkin’s movements gradually grow slower. He drags himself in languid strokes over Moomintroll’s thigh, or he keeps himself squeezed tight there, rocking himself in place. He alternates, pausing now and then, dragging it out. He glaces up at Moomintroll; the stormy atmosphere is making his blue eyes grey and luminous.
Snufkin sits on Moomintroll’s leg, slowly dragging himself backwards with his hind paws. He slides off of the knee and curls up beside him in the grass. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Snufkin smiles up at the branches above them, and Moomintroll gently rests his muzzle on his shoulder.
