Hey Random Sneak Peek For Chapter 7 Of The DM!memoirs Au Context? Hahah NOPe-

Hey random sneak peek for chapter 7 of the DM!memoirs au context? Hahah nOPe- ✨

Update! Finished! If you want the context behind the drawing I suggest you check out my fanfic (also posted on my tumblr!) this is a drawing made specifically for chapter 7 of the dead muddler au!

This is art specifically made for my alternate moomins au! (The DM!au specifically!)

Here’s an image of what joxter and fuzzy would look like later in the au around the same time comet in moominland would have taken place!

It took me a while to figure out the outfits for them but I think there fitting! (Fuzzy would have made the clothes for both herself and for joxter! Joxter has the bright primary colors because they look good on him and well he acts silly and playful all the time at least in fuzzys eyes so she thought it would be fitting and fuzzy herself prefers more calm muted colors for her outfits because it helps balance every thing out! (The “scarf” she’s wearing is actually a racoON(or a moomins universe creature close enough to a racoON) pelt, (Joxter got/made the most pelt for her himself.)

AND IVE ALREADY MADE FAN ART ✨ people reaD this fanfic it’s so good I just love that daily dose of angst ✨

Omnishambles

chapter 1

In which I, the Muddler, have become an invisible leech on my fellow crewmen, the Moomin tries to ignore the situation, my Joxter tries to salvage my visibility in any way he can, my uncle falls into a great sadness, and then I go to sleep.

-

Prologue

[Features the whole Oshun Oxtra. Full of angst. 3.5 k words long. Some Juddler (Joxter x Muddler) cuz I can't help myself.]

🥀

I sat there as my uncle explained to the others what had happened to me in an emotion I don't remember seeing him express before. He was normally so stoic, what happened…? I looked at the ground and only then noticed my legs weren't where they're meant to be.

Where was I? Was I… gone? As I tried to look for myself, my uncle finally explained that I seemed to have turned invisible.

Oh. So that's what this is.

I'm just invisible. Not gone – but not a ghost, either; they just can't see me under my still visible burnt saucepan. I didn't know how to feel about it. I was still trying to process what had happened, how my tin was gone. Just… Gone.

I still couldn't believe that.

I had that old thing for as long as I can remember… which, admittedly, isn't that much since I can't seem to remember much of my adolescence but, still, I'm pretty sure I've had that thing for a very long time, not to mention everything that was inside it: My penwipes, pipe cleaners, cookware, cutlery, gears, tools, pencils, clothes, jewelry… buttons… My poor buttons especially… Every one of those I've collected myself; some were gifts from my Joxter, yes, but I went to riverbanks and dumps – and you don't want to know where else – to get everything. I had to spend time walking, searching, and finding them, I had to take so many baths to clean off those horrible smells off my wretched self. All of that just to satisfy some unreasonable desire I can't even begin to describe.

And now, everything that I've gained from it is nothing but debris in the middle of nowhere, lost to rust, engulfed by the great unknowns of the abyss below our boat.

Now, I was worthless. At least, I felt so.

Hodgkins searched for my arm and lifted me up so I could stand, confirming that yes, I was there, just not able to be seen.

I looked at him as he gave me – or I suppose the ground or saucepan – the most disquieted look I've ever seen on that old blue face of his.

"Are you alright?" He asked gently.

I nodded, but all they could see was a pot tilting up and down. I looked at the others for the first time in this state.

Moomin tried to keep a serious expression but his eyes had a deep horror within them, and Joxter had such an expression of heartbreak that I desperately wished I could've mustered up an apology for him, but I'm completely voiceless as it turns out. I looked down and noticed the Nibling – I think he didn't know what to think, really, he was speechless with confusion, as we haven't known each other for long and had little to no bond.

Hodgkins' paw drifted down from above my elbow to my own paw and said "Let's take you to the pilot-house," as he guided me there.

I looked back at the crew one last time and then quickly turned back around before the guilt took hold of me. Despite this, it still eventually enveloped my heart knowing they held the same expressions as they watched us leave.

I sat down on the couch of the pilot-house and my uncle went to the chest to search for something. I looked at him and wondered why he's still bothering with doing anything to help me, still bothering to care at all. He only cares about important matters, he was always a practical man that I admired deeply, he was too big to care about little things. So why would he care about me if I wasn't at least useful? Now I'm just useless, why am I worth his time anymore?

He came up to me with a blue ribbon and snapped it in half with his claw. He kneeled before me and asked to place my paw on his, when I did so he tied the ribbon around my palm and tied it like a bracelet, he did the same to my other paw. This was so they can see where my paws are, probably so I wouldn't mess up without their foresight…

My uncle looked down at the ribbons silently and I could tell words were being discarded in his head for what he should say now, some part of him was also considering not saying anything at all, but finally he came up with a forlorn "I'm sorry…" in a tone I only heard when he rarely spoke of his past "I am so sorry…" he continued slowly "I… I shouldn't have let this… that… happen," he looked up at my pan and I noticed the mist in his eyes, this was so unlike him, I couldn't possibly muster a word if I was able to. He sighed heavily and asked guiltily; "Am I at fault?"

I shook my head decidedly, of course it's not his fault, what happened wasn't remotely controlled by him, why would he even ask this?

Hodgkins nodded sadly and patted my arm twice. He got up and moved his arm across his face, checked for tears and rubbed that part of his arm while he looked out the window. The rest of the crew was already gone by now, so he looked upward at the horizon and held onto the steering wheel.

"We'll find land," he muttered to himself and made a few things on the control panel click "We have to," he added "We have to…" he repeated more quietly and desperately.

I looked down at the floating ribbon hoops and felt sorry that this didn't go as I had hoped – I hoped that I could actually disappear, quickly and painlessly, but now I had somehow become more of an inconvenience and a reminder of things they think they've done wrong. I even made my own uncle cry, what person does that? Why is it so difficult to do anything right? I couldn't even stop being a nuisance right – at most they got to stop looking at my miserable face, but what good is that if they still had to worry about me over everything? My mind echoed apologies and I didn't have the voice to let it escape, I couldn't say sorry as I always did a million times a day, it was suffocating.

How was it that I felt more suffocated in open air than a cramped and crowded tin of metal and wood and plastic? Why did I have to be this pathetic and upsetting? Why was I like this? What was I like before? Did it matter what the answer was?

I was a wretched little thing – or rather, a wretched thing that wanted to be little. A disgusting wretched thing, really. I couldn't… I couldn't be any better if I tried. This isn't any better. Worse than I imagined, in fact.

My imagination really was rubbish.

Why must it be so difficult to not be myself for once? Why did I have to paint my tin when just the boat sufficed? I didn't even write its name properly, of course I didn't, my uncle was sparing my feelings – it was supposed to be Ocean Orchestra, not Oshun Oxtra, only an illiterate fool would call this work of craftsmanship an 'Oshun Oxtra', I didn't know at the time… if I wasn't so sensitive Hodgkins would've corrected me and I wouldn't have made this boat so laughable like myself. I was… he… he cares so much for nothing, doesn't he.

Gosh. What a mistake that must be…

I tried to curl up into a ball to muffle my own thoughts somehow and the sliding sound of my invisible paw against my saucepan alerted my uncle, he knew what I was trying to do just by the position of my paws and my headgear. I was upset, and I was trying to stop being upset, so he left the steering wheel and came over to help.

Silent as he is, he moved my paw aside and I looked at him. He wouldn't know from looking but I was on the brink of crying like a small child, but as we'd learned our song and dance from doing it over and over, he could sense it. His ears lowered and he sat next to me, being careful not to step or sit on any part of me. He crossed his arms and leaned on his legs while having some difficulty thinking of what to do or say again.

It really must be hard for a man like him to walk in a room full of eggshells that made nonsensical noises…

Out of an inability to do anything else, I slowly and hesitantly hugged his arm and back, hoping it'll make up for the lack of apology. He really seemed to need one, to me atleast, apologies were the only thing I had to offer him. My slow breathing turned into sniffles as I choked back tears thinking about how awfully insufficient or ill fitting this must be for him, and finally I cracked and started crying on his shoulder – goodness gracious, he was literally my shoulder to cry on.

Hodgkins noticed this and held my arm with a paw. "Hey hey it's alright, I'm fine, you're fine, sorry for not saying anything, I really should learn how to," he told me and rubbed his thumb on my arm "Please don't cry… I didn't mean…" his voice hollowed out and he left himself in silence.

I continued weeping and held a tighter grip on him, hoping this painful feeling could go away if I did. Hodgkins' paw moved to my back and he twisted his position so he could hug me properly.

I felt my eyes widen and then looked down, this was the first time in a while he hugged me, I was too afraid to be touched since the Booble incident. Tears welled up and I buried and rubbed my head against his chest, making the saucepan slide off. It tumbled down and hit the ground with a large bang which made both of us flinch.

The sound rang in my ears. I had ruined it, I ruined this hug and now Hodgkins will have to pick it up for me. Why did it have to be ruined? Why did I have to ruin this moment? Why…

Hodgkins didn't seem to care, he only pulled me in closer and held my head "It's fine," he muttered and continued in silence.

I felt a strange mix of emotions, but above them… I just… I really did miss being hugged by him and feeling the world melt away.

…

Is it too selfish to wish this could last longer than it should?

I wanted to be able to ask him if we could stay like this all day… but at the same time I didn't.

I didn't want him to do something he didn't want to do because he pitied me. Then again he probably did most things out of pity for me. Yet this is probably a stressful time for him, having an invisible nephew on his boat, pretty sure I'm the last member of his family that could be here with him… that's really not the best luck to have, is it?

I wanted to let go, but I didn't, but I did. It was just too nice of a hug to break out of, and I was too scared I'd hurt his feelings if I did, but also he could possibly be wishing we'd stop already. Hodgkins had a job to be the ship's captain and I was keeping him away from it. He probably really wants to check if his boat is in good condition after that horrendous storm, it should be his first priority, not me, anything but me.

Why should I be?

…

The comfortable silence was broken by Moomin's yelling below deck; "Do you really think any of this is going to work!?"

He sounded frustrated. Hodgkins and I looked at the floor and my immediate reaction was to go down and try to defuse the situation or help with what's going on, and so it also was Hodgkins' reaction awell, apparently.

He put an arm up against me as if to say I should stay here, but of course I didn't, it probably had something to do with my Joxter, after all! And he and Moomin didn't get along very well, they could get into a fight! I picked up my fallen saucepan, put it on and silently followed Hodgkins from behind to see what's going on down there.

"Muddler should be fine! He's just not visible!" I heard Moomin cry from below deck "I don't think it's worth searching for lost junk like a madman!"

We passed the Nibling looking down worriedly at the entrance (he wasn't allowed in there especially after the night he stowed away and made literally everything all sticky) and went down the stairs. Hodgkins stopped to look at the situation and I peeped behind him, holding his back. He felt my grip and looked at my saucepan but didn't say anything, both of us looked back at the scene between Moomin and Joxter.

"That's because you didn't give a jonk's whisker about him in the first place! Muddler's my friend! You're just a tag-along Hodgkins met right before we got launched into this mess of an adventure!" Joxter replied and went back to searching for something in a drawer. Moomin was holding a slightly wet fishing net and had the most offended look I've ever seen on his face.

"Tag-along!? I've worked to be a valuable member of this crew while you lazed about doing nothing but smoke and eat and sleep! If anything, you're the tag-along here!" Moomin accused. Joxter scoffed and didn't reply, only continuing to search in the drawer. Moomin was getting even angrier "Did you not hear me!?"

"Not sure about Joxter. But we heard from above deck," Hodgkins said.

Moomin's ears shot up. He dropped the fishnet and turned around to look up at my uncle and gestured toward my Joxter "Hodgkins!! Thank goodness you're here! Could you please knock some sense into this creature! He tried to recover Muddler's junk with your fishing net and that obviously didn't work, now he's trying to scrounge up anything he can to give it to Muddler, thinking it'll fix him somehow!"

He's doing that for me…? He rarely gets out of his way to do anything, and he's searching for things… for me?

"First; pick up the net," Hodgkins commanded calmly.

Moomin froze and bent down to do so "Ah, right, sorry-"

"Second; Joxter is doing what he can for what he cares about. Don't dare discourage it," Hodgkins said sternly.

"Thank you!" Joxter exclaimed exasperatedly, still looking through the drawer, he gave up and closed it in favour of the one under it. Moomin growled, irritated at this, and folded up the fishnet.

"Well if he's being 'useful', what are we meant to do?" Moomin asked.

"We… should check for damages. That storm was harsh," Hodgkins suggested and put his arm behind to pat my back, he looked down at my saucepan and asked "Do you want to stay with Joxter?"

I nodded. I felt like I needed to stay with him if he's putting in so much effort just to help me, but I still held a tight grip on Hodgkins' jacket.

Hodgkins' eyebrows and ears lowered and he lightly pushed me forward toward Joxter "It'll be fine. You're the only person he never bites."

I looked at him and slowly turned my head to look at Joxter, he seemed to be trying to analyze my saucepan and ribbons for the context of where I am. I shrank back at his gaze, yet I stepped forward shyly and held my paws together. He sat on the floor and watched me approach him slowly, he patted the ground silently, signaling that I should sit down with him. I kneeled on the wooden floor.

Hodgkins, upon seeing this interaction, felt sure enough to ascend up the stairs. Moomin followed behind, shooting us a quick glare before disappearing up himself.

I stared silent at the closed entrance. I heard rattling next to me and turned to discover it was just Joxter frantically emptying his pockets of everything he had found so far, he seemed almost excited to present them to me.

He picked up a loose cogwheel from the small pile and held it between his pointer and thumb "Look! I know it's not much but I know that the reason you turned invisible is because you lost your tin – or at least that's the thing that pushed you into it – so my thinking is that if we rebuild the collection, perhaps it can make you feel better and you can turn visible again? Maybe it wouldn't help entirely but I'm hoping that it would be enough until you can properly communicate and take the rest from there? Maybe? A whisper at least?" he maundered and offered the cog to me.

I hesitated. It reminded me too much of the time I accidentally almost choked my uncle for breakfast by dropping one in his omelette. I strongly didn't want to be reminded of it, but I didn't want to hurt Joxter's feelings either. I pushed aside my irrational feelings about it and grabbed it anyway. I felt a great lump in my throat as I examined it.

"I knew a chap once who turned invisible," Joxter began, he always knew a 'chap' who did something related to anything, I always wondered where he keeps finding them "It was because he felt very unhappy about his mistreatment and his mother forbidding him to see a good friend was enough to make him wish he could disappear, I don't think I ever saw him after he muttered his story to me like the whistling wind and ran off into a forest,"

He cupped his paws over mine which held the cogwheel "As much as I don't care for worries and do my best to simply live, I want to live with you. I can't bear the thought of never seeing your face again because some storm decided to be especially cruel."

It wasn't some storm.

"I'll try my best to help you as best I can, I'll even take over your duties on this ship if it means you can recollect yourself and have time to recover."

Please, don't force yourself.

"I owe you after every little thing you've done for me,"

No you don't.

"you are wonderful,"

I'm not.

"and I love you."

… I wanted to say 'I love you too' so badly and out of habit. But I also didn't want to. What's wrong with me?

My whole body shook and I knew he felt it as he held my paw, he was extremely puzzled as to what emotion the shaking is conveying.

"Are… are you alright, dear? Do you need to lie down?" He followed the path of my arm up to my shoulder and held it "Goodness, you're shivering! We should get you in the sleeping quarters this instant, you hear?"

I couldn't do anything but agree, I was shaking, I felt a well of awfulness bursting from my stomach, I was tired, afraid, I couldn't handle another terrible thought about how wretched everyone on this boat is, I couldn't handle myself and anyone for that matter, I wanted- no, needed to sleep.

Joxter lifted me up by the paws and guided me to my bed. I sat down on it. I fell sideways on it. I didn't feel the necessity to change my clothes even if I felt disgusting already. I needed my mind to shut up in my unconsciousness and I needed it to do so as soon as possible.

Joxter threw a blanket over me and looked at the inside of my saucepan in an attempt to make eye contact "Do you want me to stay with you?"

No.

I shook my head and waved my hand side to side.

"Alright then… oh, and we can't forget about the saucepan, you're going to wake up with an awful ache if you keep it," Joxter said and slid the pan from my head and placed it on the nearest surface. He looked at the pit on my pillow kindly "Sleep well, Muds."

I nodded, rolled over to face the wall, and slept.

But I didn't sleep well.

Finished animation! Well as close to finished as I’ll get of Course-

@autoheart

I finished reading Scott pilgrim vs the world I liked it but it seriously had some issues- but besiDes that it was good! So I decided to draw my boyfriend and an ex over a specific Scott pilgrim page for fun! (I don’t take full credit since it’s mostly just traced over/edited version of the original)

This was a process ✨ lol

(Click for better quality)

Little bonus I drew a long time ago!

This-this right here? Yea I’m going to make so much fan art of this eventually-

Soooooo I had this quick-ish alternate universe idea and wrote it up for 4 hours straight. It is very much angst material but it's not super angsty until the end where it goes very hard.

Characters include the Oshun Oxtra (including the Nibling), takes place after the crew drift off to sea and this is about 3 thousand words long!

This may or may not be a part 1 but I'm not making promises as I've learned that I'm horrible at them.

So, yeah, hope you enjoy!

It was only very recently that the Oshun Oxtra had lost its anchor and set off to the great blue beyond of which Muddler felt ill to think the sheer vastness of, let alone of the things that lurk beneath the blue-green tinted darkness that stared back at him whenever he looked over the railing. Despite his best judgements and his wisdom, he couldn't help but be pulled toward the side of the ship every now and then just to peer into the sea that his uncle and apparently his father were fond of in concept, his imagination (or very little imagination, as according to most creatures) couldn't help but drift to picturing the unimaginable horrors that could live in the cold, empty, salty void that only the boat could be protecting him from, it was a guilty passtime between reorganizing and re-reorganizing his collection as he so often does, despite his obvious fear of the vast entity and his own imagination.

"See anything in the water?" asked the young stowaway Nibling from behind, indeed the one who had chewed off the river-boat's anchor in the middle of two nights ago "How come you keep looking over there?" he continued asking and approached the Muddler, too short to look over the railing himself.

The Muddler snapped away from his thoughts and looked down at the Nibling with embarrassment and even confusion at his own actions "O- oh, excuse me! I'm sorry! I'm not... I don't see anything, as of yet, I'm just checking the waters just in case... You- you know how there can be dangerous things there, right? Have to keep an eye out!"

"Uh...huh," the Nibling replied with a small hesitant nod and trotted his way to the Muddler's Maxell House Coffee™ tin in small, sticky steps.

Muddler's gaze followed the Nibling and was all too concerned about why he would go there, not wanting to seem rude, he silently followed the Nibling, making sure not to step on the Nibling's trail lest his gloved feet get stuck — or be left without footwear. The Nibling tried to claw up the tin with his small paws and Muddler simply crossed his arms and said "I'm... I'm sorry but I'm not going to let you inside the tin again! You made my playing cards into collage art and my silverware into a plate just from walking on them! I'm not sure if I can let you do something like that again...!" and suddenly guilt welled up and his meek conscience, he uncrossed his arms and held his mouth "Excuse me! Sorry! I hope that didn't seem too rude, Mr. Nibling..."

"I suppose that is fair, but I don't know how I can help it like I can't help from gnawing on the big rope! It's something I'm built with!" cried the Nibling.

"But the least you could do is try to learn from it and avoid it, right...? Try not bothering- I mean, stepping on things too much? Maybe I could find you a pair of socks you could wear while you're on board?" the Muddler offered.

"Do you think that would work?" replied the Nibling.

"We'll have to try! Though it might be a while before I could find a pair small enough for you... Don't suppose I hoarded some from when I was much smaller..." the Muddler pondered to himself before entering the tin.

The Nibling waited very eagerly as metallic and other sorts of noises clunk and banged from inside the enormous coffee tin, intermingled with Muddler's undecipherable mumbling and wordless exclamations. The eagerness subsided as it was clear this really was meant to take a while as Muddler hypothesized, so the Nibling eventually just sat beside the tin and waited patiently for the Muddler to return from his journey through the condensed junk yard found within the tin.

All the while, Hodgkins, the Muddler's aforementioned uncle and captain of this river-boat, and the Moomin, a very new person who had entered their lives and seemed much more interested in interacting with the captain more than anything, were holding operations and chatting in the pilot-house (it was more of a one-sided conversation with Moomin taking the lead, but still). Moomin was proudly steering the boat as Hodgkins made fixes and adjustments in the small tower, as the man much preferred to occupy himself with tweaking every little thing on his creation to make sure things run as smoothly as it can, especially as the river-boat was not meant to sail across the sea, it'd be safer if the Oshun Oxtra was more prepared as it went on.

They would also still need to ration their food and other supplies for this sort of trip, Hodgkins would have to warn Muddler, the crew's chef, cleaner and other things, about having to minimize the consumption and usage of the food supply in their meals, but of course they would have to take into account their food going bad, contamination, having an extra mouth to possibly feed, a plan B in case of miscalculation... Goodness, why did that Nibling have to stowaway and ruin everything like this? These are far too many variables to consider just for food of all things, they'd also have to worry about clean water and sanitation and potential danger and morale or sanity, most of which Hodgkins barely has a proper grasp on to even begin thinking on it!

"Wouldn't you think so, Hodgkins?" Moomin's voice suddenly broke through the train of thought.

"Hm?" Hodgkins turned around to face Moomin, utterly lost as to what he was talking about.

"Oh, perhaps I didn't speak too clearly- I meant that exploring such a vast place such as the ocean would be great for our prospects of being adventurers, right?" Moomin elaborated. And that was quite literally the opposite perspective from what Hodgkins was thinking of.

"Not quite," Hodgkins answered, attention going to the map on the pilot-house's wall "Considering all the practicalities that come with it. And the danger. Can't even be sure where we could be..." he landed a knee on the couch beneath the map and tried to pinpoint their location with his finger, he circled the North Sea as he was aware they were leaving the east of England, so it figures they would be in that particular part of the world "We're somewhere here, I think. Might be closer to our country, hard to tell. The area is too large to pinpoint, still, very likely rife with sea-monsters, or storms... I'm no expert," Hodgkins shrugged "We have to be prepared, don't want my nephew or Joxter or you to get hurt."

Moomin looked at Hodgkins and asked "What about you?"

"That, too," he replied and sat on the couch "Eyes where you're steering, Moomin."

"Oh, aye Captain," Moomin turned around toward the window, suddenly he noticed some dark clouds over the horizon and felt uneasy, he checked the barometer at his side "Hodgkins, I believe there might be a storm approaching if my eyes don't deceive me..."

Hodgkins tilted his head and noticed the dark clouds approaching, his ear flicked and he stood up "I'll consult Joxter, see if he has any input," he said and approached the door.

"Are you really going to think that Joxter would know how to tell the future?" Moomin said impatiently.

"Just for a gist, I trust his forebodings," Hodgkins replied and left. He could hear Moomin mumbling something under his breath before shutting the door.

Hodgkins went to Muddler's tin, ignored the Nibling sitting beside it and knocked on the lid for Muddler himself to peer out, Hodgkins leaned sideways to look his nephew in the eye "Storm approaching, we need Joxter's opinion," he said and lifted the lid up.

"Oh gosh! A storm?" exclaimed the Muddler and got out "I'm sorry that I couldn't find socks for you, Nibling, but this seems more important!" he apologized.

"It's alright! Storms are pretty scary, I think, I'd leave finding socks to do something else too if I were you," the Nibling said and turned the corner to look toward the dark clouds approaching and gulped.

Hodgkins basically dragged Muddler by the arm as the poor creature seemed so horrified at the sight of it that he froze, but of course he had to stumble in the direction Hodgkins was leading him, which was below deck.

Joxter had been sleeping in the, well, sleeping quarters for a few hours now as he usually did. He heard the two approaching from a above and slightly lifted his hat to see what they were intending to do there, then Hodgkins nudged Muddler to approach Joxter, which he did.

"Hey, sorry to wake you, Joxter..." Muddler said sheepishly.

"It's quite alright," he replied gently and sat up from his bed "Is anything the matter?"

"There's... There's a storm incoming, I think, and we hope that you might know if how bad it's going to be? Please?" Muddler answered. Joxter held a finger up to his chin with a very non-serious expression on his face "Joxter! This is serious!" Muddler added, unamused by this attempt at humour.

"Alright! Goodness!" Joxter said and got down from his bed, he walked past Hodgkins and said "Hullo to you too, captain Hodgkins," with a sarcastic salute jabbing at the lack of greeting from him. Hodgkins rolled his eyes and the three of them went above deck together, the storm noticeably being closer than before "Yep, that seems like an awful storm coming soon..." Joxter commented before a pain pierced his nose.

"Ah! Fiddlesticks!" he exclaimed painfully, holding his face "MMM... YES! Darn it! This will be an awful one indeed!" he cried. Muddler held Joxter worriedly and tried to hug his arm.

"I should get inside the tin, then-"

"I wouldn't recommend getting in the tin for protection, dear," Joxter interrupted Muddler and looked at him with a serious expression, then looked up at the sky cautiously.

Moomin broke the door open "The barometer is getting seriously low!" he yelled, looking (metaphorically) pale.

"I'll be steering," Hodgkins mildly yelled back and climbed the stairs to the pilot house "The rest of you go below deck until this is over."

"Excuse me! But what about the coffee tin!?" Muddler cried to his uncle.

"Afraid it can't be brought with you," Hodgkins said, and he was being very truthful in this as the stairway's entrance couldn't fit the coffee tin even if they somehow managed to carry it all the way there.

"NO!!!" screamed the Muddler.

Joxter held Muddler as he squirmed to approach Hodgkins "It will be alright!" he said, he proceeded to escort Muddler below deck. Moomin followed thereafter but not without giving Hodgkins a concerned look.

Hodgkins grabbed the steering wheel and then noticed the sticky sensation on the floor as he stepped on it, he turned around and saw the Nibling was sitting on the couch behind him "Since... When did you get here?" he asked.

"Since Muddler left with you," Nibling answered candidly.

Hodgkins stared at the Nibling for a few seconds, then shook his head and looked forward at the storm.

Below deck, the three crewmates were waiting for the storm to pass. Joxter smoked and played solitaire with his deck of cards, Moomin was pacing around the room, and Muddler sat balled up in the corner of the room, anxious for both his uncle and his coffee tin. This went on with quiet uneasiness and downright paranoia for a few minutes before the boat started noticeably swaying and ruined the Joxter's game, though he merely shrugged off the loss as bigger priorities were in order. The crew could hear the coffee tin gliding across the ceiling in all sorts of directions above their heads, which didn't do much aside from giving the Joxter and Moomin a sense of how much the boat is swaying and putting Muddler on the verge of a heart attack, this went on for a several long minutes until Muddler couldn't bear the sound or thought anymore and decided to go above despite the others' urgent warning and his own logical reasoning.

The door to the exit was dripping with water and, with a shakey paw, Muddler opened it to witness the great rainstorm and raging tides that swayed the river-boat unfit for such weather. Muddler trembled and tried to lift himself up and saw his tin sliding past. Overcome with a near-animalistic impulse to protect his collection, he almost ran after it before his uncle yelled at him asking what he was doing there and that he told him to stay below deck. Muddler suddenly felt regret strike him through the spine but his attention was soon switched with the priority of his tin above even himself. It was a cartoonish goose chase around the deck as the Muddler would trip before catching his tin and his uncle was simply trying his best to keep the ship from capsizing.

Muddler finally managed to hold onto his tin in a moment of sudden calm and relief. The storm was fading into a shower, the weather became brighter, and Muddler was gasping for air from exhaustion.

He seemed proud of himself for such a foolish venture, he beat the storm and made it out intanct, he didn't lose anything, he was fine, everything was fine. He's alright. There's nothing he should be afraid of anymore. Muddler could slip and hit the ground comfortably knowing that the tin is safe.

The boat jossled and then a large thing which seemed like a pillar or a tentacle shot out by the boat's side from underwater and threw everyone on the boat in the air, including the coffee tin. The pillar retreated back into the sea and so did the boat violently rock from side to side. The coffee tin flew across the boat, hit the railing and before Muddler could catch up to it, it slid off into the depths, the lid opened and everything sank into the unknown darkness right before Muddler's eyes.

The boat finally stabilized again. The last few droplets from the big finale landed. Muddler stood frozen over the railing, arms reaching out below, breathing heavily, eyes widened.

Muddler was in shock.

What happened? What was that? Why? Questions echoed in his head. The thoughts were akin to a small child asking innocent questions about the event, and then it quickly descended into accusatory madness trying to come up with an answer himself. In only a few seconds his mind was barking a thousand hateful reasons as to why this happened to him, all pointing at him for the blame, all overwhelming him with spite, and he didn't like it. The thoughts hounded him like rabid dogs, saying that this is was a punishment for his misdeeds and idiocy, screaming that this was his inevitability after so long, and others would squeak back questions of whys and hows. These thoughts would clash and yell over eachother, echoing and repeating, growling and seething, whirling and reeling, they mangled every corner of his consciousness and left no room to breath, all weeping and wrecking every shred of love he had within him.

It wasn't only the loss of his coffee tin that made this happen; something similar happened with the loss of Hodgkins' house to the foot of Edward the Booble, but at the very least it was the tangible fault of someone else, and he had his things and his family, then after a long while after Hodgkins revealed his secret project, he almost choked him with a cogwheel over breakfast, then he painted the boat and got paint all over himself, then painted his tin, then slept in paint all night, then he had to prepare for moving away from a home he's known his whole life, then almost suffocated and drowned in his tin during a river flood, then wished for the Groke to have eaten a hemulen who was promptly taken away by Niblings right after, then he couldn't make any use of himself on the boat, and now he lost his precious collection that kept him sane through all of this. What's next? Losing Hodgkins and Joxter?

His thoughts continued to scream at him, the uncohesive riot slowly gained organization and turned into an angry choir of 'you deserve this', he deserved it for being so dumb, he deserved it for all the things he did over his blurry childhood, he deserved it for being so sensitive, he deserved it for making his uncle almost eat a cogwheel, he deserved it for not thinking ahead, he deserved it for wishing the Hemulen Aunt to be eaten, he deserved having everything taken away from him, parents, home, collection and soon, all. Existing felt like a painful thing after all of this. He just wants it to end now, this weight on his chest, this pain all over his mind and body, this oversensitivity toward everything, having to play both the angry parent and the hurt and guilty child at the same time. He pulled his thoughts together into a quiet desire to just disappear. To do a favor for everyone else and not bother them any longer. Dark, somewhat bloody tears flooded down his face (this is normal for him and his species, Muddlers have tears like dogs) like they do all the time when he feels this. He just wanted to go away, to leave everyone alone, to not have to deal with how he thinks or feels.

The dark clouds parted as the storm ended. Sunbeams shined through and lit up the Oshun Oxtra. Muddler, though, flickered in and out of visibility as the sun's rays expressed no desire to touch something so pathetic and undeserving of their light, and soon his face faded, then the rest of clothes, only leaving a floating saucepan in the air. Out of sight, out of mind, as the Muddler so quietly desired, but he was still physically present, he was there, you just couldn't see him.

Hodgkins rushed out the pilot-house and approached the floating pan where he witnessed Muddler disappear. He reached out a hesitant paw and felt Muddler's jacket where it was meant to be, but still couldn't see. The saucepan rotated in the air as if it turned to look at him, Hodgkins seemed completely lost on any of this.

"Muddler...?" he managed to let out very quietly, misty-eyed.

Joxter and Moomin got out from below deck when they sensed the storm passed, and Hodgkins tried his best to explain what happened without cracking.