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[tired-truffle]

My Soul to Keep

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter 1

Summary: "Or - and this couldn’t possibly be, well, possible - that was Viktor from Arcane, a TV show that had no right being so real. Nothing made sense and there was nothing you could do about it. You had nothing and no one. Only one thing was painfully clear; you were so fucked."

You wake up in the world of Arcane, inexplicably tied to Viktor. What will you do next?

A/N: This may be a strange concept, but I just couldn't let it go! It will be significantly less angsty than my last Viktor fic but there will of course still be some :) I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

The room was unfamiliar. Shelves of leather-bound books lined the walls, trinkets scattered around - at first glance seemingly random, but once you gave it more thought, their placement was nothing if not precise. A worn leather couch sat at the centre of the space, facing the shelves, two end tables on either side. A cozy, wine-red rug slipped beneath a coffee table stained with water rings, remnants of long-forgotten mugs. A modest kitchen sat off to your right, tiled with a plain off-white hexagonal pattern, and to your left—

A desk, cluttered with odds and ends, papers stacked high, but your gaze was drawn to the figure turned towards you. 

“This…is a first,” he said carefully, the words drawn over his slightly lopsided lips. He seemed almost painted in texture, smooth lines blended together, as did all of your surroundings. 

You blinked, once, twice, three times, but not once did that stop the man from resembling someone it was frankly impossible for him to resemble. 

How much of your spare time - and busy, if you were honest - did he take up in the form of a daydream? They haunted you, those bright amber eyes, his mouth quirked towards the beauty mark that rested above his lip, long and thin hands resting on his cane, and - oh, look, speak of the mobility aid and it shall appear. The sleek silver cane with red and gold accents rested against the desk beside him - where he still watched you with barely concealed intrigue, and a smidge of concern. 

“Yeah,” you said, clearing your throat around the lump that had formed. “It’s a first for me too.”

You stood, regarding each other like you’d both spoken some form of gibberish. A beat of silence, and your antsiness could no longer stand it. 

“So,” you drew out the vowel, “how did I get into your room, exactly? I assume this is your room, right?” 

“You’re correct, but I unfortunately have no idea how you came to be here. One moment I was alone and the next…” He - you refused to think of his name, it couldn’t possibly be him - gestured vaguely in your direction. 

“You had a random person appear in your living room,” you finished for him. 

“Precisely,” he said with a swing of his arm, “though if anything, I would not have expected that person to be, ah, see-through.”

Blinking three times did nothing to help clarify that statement either. Nor did four, or even five times. But you were saved from the most unintelligent ‘huh?’ you’d ever made in your life as you glanced down at your body. 

Seeing through yourself was not an experience you would have ever thought you’d get, but never say never, right? Your colours were muted, your clothes and skin entirely too…dim, blending in with the hardwood floor. With the hesitancy of someone sticking their hand into a box of unknown bugs, you slowly let your palms come to rest on your stomach - and the immense relief you felt when it was solid to your touch couldn’t be described. 

Another test was in order, and with the success of the first, you figured you might as well rip the Band-Aid off. You swiped your arm at the nearest object - the back of the couch - and you went right through it as though it didn’t exist. 

“What the fuck.” It felt like an understatement for the gravity of the situation you were in. “Please tell me this is a dream.” 

“My leading theory was hallucination, though I have never experienced one before so I have little data to base it on. I’d be ridiculed in most academic spaces for even suggesting such a thing without empirical evidence.”

You were pretty sure you’d both lost your minds at this point - or he was a figment of your imagination reflecting your insanity. You didn’t really like either option. 

“You’re, uh, surprisingly chill about all this.”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “it was bound to happen after a few sleepless nights. Such is the price of the pursuit of knowledge.”

If you were crazy, so was he. At least you weren’t alone. 

“But,” he continued, “perhaps this is a sign that I should rest.” 

Flipping his book closed with a definitive thud, he stood, cane balanced on his arm. He inclined his head. “You may use the couch if you’d like, but I hope for both of our sakes you’re not here come morning.” 

Without further ado, he slipped past you, opening the door to what was no doubt his bedroom, and shutting it firmly behind him. 

Silence rang in your ears, only interrupted by the soft shuffling sounds of him getting ready for bed. 

You weren’t sure how long you stood there for - long after the light had flicked off in his room - but when you finally moved to sit on the couch, you froze again. How were you supposed to sit on it if you couldn’t touch it?

It all came crashing down around you as that realization sunk in. Biting your finger to stifle your scream, you stomped your feet like a rampaging toddler without the satisfaction of colliding with anything physical. Fucking fuck this was crazy. This couldn’t be fucking real! You were drugged or in a coma or locked in some padded room somewhere and this was your mind trying to find some escape.

Or - and this couldn’t possibly be, well, possible - that was Viktor from Arcane, a TV show that had no right being so real. 

Nothing made sense and there was nothing you could do about it. You had nothing and no one.

Only one thing was painfully clear; you were so fucked. 

“Ah, I see you’re still here,” Viktor’s accented voice, rough with sleep, came from behind you. “I was certain that getting some rest would solve this.”

Finding out you could float had been the only plus of your night, and you’d taken to floating above the couch. Though you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep - instead, spending your time internally freaking the fuck out - at least you could kind of fly now. You’d have to test it further, but you hadn’t been in the right headspace for it. The last thing you needed was to break down mid-flight. 

You looked over your shoulder and your mouth dried out completely. Fuck, he was hot. His hair was slightly dishevelled from sleep - his shorter haircut, meaning this had to be Viktor from somewhere around the beginning of the show - skin pink and honeyed eyes bright. He wore a loose shirt that hung off his thin frame and a warm pair of fuzzy pyjama pants. He tilted his head to the side, thick brows furrowed as he watched you. 

“Yup, still here.” You waved awkwardly. “I, uh, I guess I could leave, if you wanted me to. I didn’t exactly try, just kinda hoped this would all…stop.” 

He frowned, considering your offer. “That’s not necessary, though you may leave if that is what you wish.” 

Your shoulders lowered, having tightened without your awareness. “I’d rather not, at least until I’ve figured out what this is, exactly.”

Viktor nodded, wiping at his eyes before making his way over to the kitchen and disappearing inside.

The bubbling of a coffee machine began, and he reappeared in the doorway, leaning against it and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’d offer you some, but seeing as you can’t touch it…”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” you said with a tentative smile. 

Once the coffee had finished brewing, he poured himself an obnoxiously large mug, and sat on the opposite end of the couch. You watched in both horror and awe as he poured an obscene amount of sugar into the drink. He stirred it, tapped the spoon on the edge once before laying it on the very stained coffee table, and taking his first sip. He must have burned his taste buds off ages ago to tolerate coffee that hot. With a contented sigh, he turned to face you. 

“Perhaps introductions would be a good place to start?” he offered, and you stared blankly at him. 

“You’re Viktor,” you said before you could stop yourself. To be fair, you hadn’t exactly slept last night, and you were still inordinately frazzled from all of…this. 

He raised an eyebrow. “You read my notes?” 

“Uh, no, I didn’t.” You glanced at the desk, papers haphazardly spread around. He didn’t sign his name on all of them, you were sure, but you hadn’t checked. 

“So you are a hallucination then.”

“I don’t think so. It’s, um, difficult to explain. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m here.”

He hummed, tapping a slender finger on his chin. “Given that I do not know your name as you know mine, would you be willing to share?”

What should have been an easy task turned out to be anything but.

You opened your mouth to speak your name, but what came out was a garbled mess of sounds, like static on a radio, but distorted and chilling. Your eyes widened in shock and you tried again, only for the same incomprehensible noise to emerge. Viktor leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concern and curiosity.

“Uh, hold on, let me try that again.”

Gathering your courage and clearing your throat, you attempted to introduce yourself one more time. To your horror, the same garbled nonsense spilled from your lips; twisted phonemes that bore no resemblance to your name. Panic began to rise in your chest, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

“Well, that was…unexpected,” Viktor said, eyebrows raised. 

You would have to agree. “I... I don't understand," you stammered, your voice working perfectly fine now. "I can't say my name. It's like something’s blocking it.”

Tentatively, you raised a hand to your throat, half-expecting to feel some alien presence there. But your skin felt normal, warm and familiar beneath your fingertips. 

Viktor set his coffee mug down, his full attention on you. "Fascinating," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "Can you write it?”

You nodded eagerly, relieved at the suggestion. Viktor quickly retrieved a pen and paper from his cluttered desk, holding them out to you. Your hand passed right through them, and you both stared at the items, a heavy silence falling over the room.

"Right," Viktor said, "I had forgotten about that particular complication."

You floated down to eye level with the paper, concentrating hard as you tried to will your ghostly finger to make contact with it. Nothing happened. Frustrated, you attempted to speak your name once more, but the same garbled noise came out.

Viktor's eyes lit up with the spark of scientific inquiry. "Perhaps we could try something else. Can you spell it out loud?"

You nodded, hope rising and pricking at your tongue. "Okay, the first letter is-" But as soon as you tried to say the letter, your voice turned into that same garbled static. Your face fell, your hands dropping into your lap. 

“How are you at charades?” Viktor offered. You perked up, surely that would work. Charades seemed like a foolproof solution. With renewed determination, you raised your hands, ready to mime out the first letter of your name.

But as you attempted to form the shape, your arms suddenly felt like lead weights. They refused to budge, hanging uselessly at your sides. Confusion and frustration bubbled up inside you as you strained against the invisible force holding you back.

Undeterred, you tried again, this time focusing on tracing the letter in the air with your finger. Yet the moment your hand began to move with purpose, it froze mid-motion, as if caught in a bear trap. No matter how hard you willed it, your finger wouldn't budge an inch.

Viktor leaned forward, his eyes sharp with fascination. At least this was entertaining one of you. "What's happening?"

"I…I can't move," you said, your words tinged with panic. "Every time I try to spell out my name, it's like something's blocking me."

You made another attempt, this time trying to point to objects that began with the same letters. But as soon as you began, your hand froze, suspended in the air like a statue. The sensation was bizarre - you could still feel, still think, but your body simply refused to obey your commands.

After a few seconds, the paralysis faded, and you slumped in defeat. "It's no use," you sighed, only one last idea remaining. “Can you lip-read?”

“Not when your lips are covered by…some sort of mist?”

What.

“Where’s your bathroom?” you asked with the sudden urgency of someone who desperately had to pee - but you weren’t sure you needed to pee at all in this state. 

He inclined his head towards the bedroom. “Through there.”

You’d meant to thank him, but in your rush to get to a mirror, you weren’t sure if it was audible. 

Floating through the couch and to the bedroom door, you vaguely acknowledged his perfectly made bed and sparse belongings, and entered the open washroom. 

The lights were frustratingly off, and no matter how many times you passed your spectral hand through the switch, it refused to budge. That was going to get old very quickly. The morning sun shining through the bedroom window was all the illumination you were going to get, and it would have to do. 

You peered into the mirror, your heart pounding with anticipation. The reflection that greeted you was both familiar and utterly alien. You were translucent - though you knew this already - the tiles of the bathroom wall visible through your ghostly silhouette. Despite the ethereal quality of your appearance, you looked surprisingly normal - just tired and a bit worse for wear after your sleepless night. At least you weren't a vampire, though that hadn’t been at the top of your list.

Leaning closer to the mirror, you attempted to say your name once more. To your horror, as soon as you opened your mouth, a dark grey mist materialized, obscuring your lips entirely. The warbling static filled your ears, and you stumbled back, your incorporeal form passing through the shower bathtub combo.

"What the fuck," you whispered, your voice thankfully clear when not attempting to identify yourself. You raised a trembling hand to your mouth, but felt nothing unusual - the mist seemed to exist only in your reflection.

Dread left a sour taste on the back of your tongue. You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths you weren't sure you needed in this state. The familiar technique helped ground you, even if the air didn't quite fill your lungs the way it should.

Once you’d fought back the panic, you gathered yourself, smoothing down your clothes out of habit more than necessity. You had to face this rationally. Freaking out wouldn't solve anything, and you had a brilliant scientist waiting to help you figure this out - at least you’d managed to intrigue him.

With one last glance at your reflection, you turned and floated back through the bedroom. 

You emerged into the living room, where Viktor sat waiting, his long fingers wrapped around a fresh cup of coffee. 

"Well," you said, trying to inject some levity into your voice but failing miserably, "I can confirm that whatever's stopping me from saying my name is visible in the mirror. It's like some kind of weird, real-time censorship."

“It’s most unusual,” Viktor remarked. “If you are a hallucination, then why would my psyche refuse to give you a name?” 

“I’m not a hallucination.” You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m just a person who’s been dropped into a universe that should not exist and for some godforsaken reason I’m a fucking ghost!” 

Viktor stared blankly at you and you could see the gears turning in his head. “A universe that should not exist—“

But before he could continue that line of questioning, an alarm rang out from the bedroom. Viktor sighed heavily, downing the rest of his horrifically over-sugared coffee in one gulp, and stood up. 

“That is my signal, if I do not depart soon, Professor Heimerdinger will be most displeased with my tardiness.” Viktor made his way towards the bedroom and you clenched your jaw. “However, I would be interested in continuing this conversation when I return - if you are still here.” 

“Sure,” you offered halfheartedly. 

“Then I look forward to it,” Viktor said with a small bow of his head. He disappeared back into the bedroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. 

What had happened before you arrived here? Try as you might, you couldn't remember anything specific. It was as if your memories before materializing in this room were shrouded in the same misty darkness that obscured your name. Everything about your life seemed intact, except for what happened after you’d…fallen asleep?

Were you in some kind of coma, your consciousness projected into this fictional world? Or had you somehow slipped through the cracks of reality, tumbling into a universe that wasn’t your own?

Each possibility seemed more far-fetched than the last, yet there you were, a translucent spectre floating in the home of a character who should have been nothing more than pixels on a screen. How often had you wished he was real? Too many to count, to be sure, but you hadn’t meant it like this. To be stripped of everything you’ve ever known, your home, the people you loved, and carted off to a strange new world was disconcerting, to say the least.

But you’d have to go with it for now. What else could you do? Mope and cry in despair, probably, but that wouldn’t fix your problem. First things first, you had to figure out when you were. From there…well, that was future you’s problem.

Next Chapter

A/N: How many times can I write 'fuck' in this chapter and not have it be too much? Who knows!

Updates for the fic will be once a month until I'm done with my dragon age long fic, see you all soon!

If you'd like to be tagged in future updates, let me know :)

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲 | 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶A deleted scene from chapter twelve where receptionist!reader acts like a bimbo in front of Eddie just to rile him up. Written very tongue-in-cheek at the beginning.✶

NSFW — sexual themes, handjob, unresolved sexual tension, 18+

↳ start the story here to catch up!

[wc: 2.1k]

Heeding your checklist of chores, you idled at the workbench against the far corner of the wall. There were a few of the usual things you organized: placing nuts and bolts in drawers, facing products with their labels out, tidying small boxes, folding the end of the paper towel roll so it didn’t unfurl itself in the turbulent path of the oscillating fan. You bent over to toss cellophane wrappers into the waste paper bin, and took your time musing if the liner should be changed despite the little amount of balled up paper weighing down the bottom. Standing, you swept off the unsanded tabletop with your hands, and worked a crusty rag over an oil streak, making a mental note to call the laundry service to swing by a day early.

As you stepped away, you knocked a pencil to the floor. Its bright yellow body was impossible to miss, along with its excruciatingly long hexagonal roll carried by your elbow to the very edge, but you managed. You knelt to your hands and knees to retrieve the writing utensil, inspecting its broken tip. The graphite was missing completely, leaving behind an empty hole where it once was. An unfortunate accident. You rotated it a few times looking for other flaws—an honorable way to spend your time.

“You doin’ this on purpose?” gruffed out an annoyed voice behind you.

No need to check, you heard the amused twist at the corner of his lips. His left canine was probably on show, too. Not in a hurry to confirm, you gripped the pencil in your fist, and leaned forward, stretching in search of the missing lead before it was stomped into dust and potentially transferred from someone’s boot sole into a wealthy client’s car. You were thinking of them, really.

The floor was a rewarding oasis in the noonday sun baking through the warehouse windows. Your flat splayed hands and knuckles worked over the grit of dirt to inch your pursuit closer to the wall, drinking in the chill of the epoxy coated concrete cooling you down better than a 50 cent clear plastic cup of Kool Aid at a kid’s misspelled lemonaide stand. Though, the unforgiving flooring bit into your joints, and indented your knees with the netting of your pantyhose. But Eddie’s study did not sway to your shoe slipping off your heel. No, he was a gentleman. And as a gentleman, he praised the wealth of curves you put on display.

He used the heels of his heavy boots to drag himself from under a Mustang, thumping up beside you, wheels on the creeper rolling along the slick floor.

The lower you dipped your chest, the higher your skirt hem tickled the back of your thighs. In total innocence—truly giving your best effort to find the missing pencil tip—you tilted your hips to unimaginable degrees, presenting your ass to the point even your lower back side-eyed your act.

Smooth backs of fingers lifted the hem more. Eddie curled his index under your skirt, and assisted it to the crease of your cheek, following the change in nylon with his rough thumbprint as it wove denser around your thighs to hold you in. Tummy Control, it was advertised as. To a man who had seldom encounters with women, this meant very little to him, as did the change in texture. Though, curiously, he rubbed at it with interest.

“You’re something else, you know that?” But his voice was too playful to shame you, hardly traipsing through his throat to chastise. “I’m out here working my ass off, and you’re struttin’ around the garage in this lil’ piece.” The little piece in question was your corporate approved pencil skirt from a long forgotten temp job when your apartment lost two roommates in a breakup, and rent was past due.

Pandering to your audience of one, you shuffled two of the tiniest inches backwards, and steadied your hand on his outstretched leg. You bent at the hips, filling his large palm with a handful of your ass, and he admired you in a brush of fingertips near the innermost valley of your thigh, licking a divine chill up your spine. Playing along, you pretended to just notice him, assuming a sinless gasp, and following it with many airheaded inflections, “Oh! Didn’t see you there, handsome. Am I distracting you?”

The standing fan swung its head in your direction, sweeping Eddie’s bangs off his forehead in a brief burst.

You’d been on hundreds of dates, and not once had you been so deeply complimented by someone’s gaze.

Eddie dwelled in the distraction. He stroked his thumb over the fat, and traced his pinky along the hypersensitive crease before the swell which had your muscles tightening in a squirm. He was so close to the middle seam of the pantyhose. Perhaps he knew this as well, but didn’t care—he was just happy to be touching you. Laid out in the neon orange creeper, sun glancing off the packed garage, casting a glow across his puffy face. Sleepy eyes, messy hair, unbearably adorable grin—the type of candid expression showing how honored he was to look at you, so forthcoming and open. A trap, if there ever was one, luring you into picturing him twisted amongst your bedding on a late morning.

As he tracked his gaze over your backside, an aching reminder moseyed its way into his consciousness. Setting into a glare, he forced his way through any pleasantness lingering in his chest to tell you plainly, “Sweetheart, you’re fucking torturing me here.” You giggled, and he broke, falling victim to the squinch at his crow’s feet.

“You think I’m not torturing myself, too?”

“Dunno.” He craned his head back to check underneath the car for where each pair of boots were moving, and you peeped through the driver’s side window to keep tabs on the seated customers in the lobby. Once you both ensured there was no danger of being caught, he turned his attention to you fully. “You’re not wearing my favorite pair, so I couldn’t tell.” In case you weren’t sure, he wrung his hand around your leg, and drummed his fingers where there should be an easily accessible hole in your tights, where he could drag his fingers through your slick truth. His sorry features were tainted with remorse when your plush thighs weren't spilling out from the nylon; however, he drew his eyebrows in mock sympathy, and traced the area. “Could make these my new favorite pair, though.”

You about melted into a puddle of dumbstruck glee at his first foray into initiating dirty talk. “Yeah?” you stressed the word like he would—big smile and all. You raised the placement of your grip on his leg up, further, still going until the inside of your thumb threatened to assist what laid fat and heavy towards his hip. Car exhaust, pungent motor oil, and fumes swam in your head. Mind dizzy, you skimmed your nails over his heavy sack pressed tight against the seam of his coveralls. An implied line was drawn along your heat by his featherlight touch. You leaned over him, real close, chest over chest, knees spread because his hand encouraged you to do so. Mouth to mouth, considering kissing the dirt from his lips. “Wanna rip ‘em, and have me on top while you’re on this thing?”

Eddie moaned, and it wasn’t shy in the loud garage. “Want it so fucking bad, baby.”

A single ding from the bell atop your desk drew your attention.

Bodies paused, you both existed in the indecision of what to do. Eddie’s forehead wrinkled from his high brows driving his attention backwards, peering under the car again. The other employees of David’s Auto Repair shuffled around a Studebaker. There was no one inside to help the customer. What a shame.

Eddie lowered his chin in long clockticks, seeking you behind his heavy lashes and heavier gaze. His nose met the side of yours in an unrefined graze, dragging his chapped lips wherever he felt your smile. He kissed you hungry. Needy, desperate to fit the magnitude of his palm at the back of your head, and dirty your mouth with noses mashed together. He wanted you messy, he wanted you catching your balance on the creeper for the same reason his held sigh became your next breath, taking a pinch of your pantyhose over your pussy and twisting it around his fist to demonstrate his annoyance, as if the dull ache of your bottom lip against his teeth wasn’t illustrative enough. The peak of your whine and his approving hum tethered the snap of your tights and the squeeze he left on your thigh. Filthy warmth blanketed the top of your hand. Stifling hot, calluses running rough over your knuckles as he cupped your palm over his hard length, and curled your fingers around himself, kicking his hips up to really stretch the limits of your grip. Together, he guided you in a few teasing pumps along the base, ego growing at the pretty sound hitched in your throat.

“Hey, Ed!” Mr. Moore’s yell burst the bubble you two surrounded yourselves in. “C’mere, ‘nd look at this.”

It wasn’t an emergency. It could wait. There were enough mechanics on duty, they could figure out what they were gawking at, or admiring, or whatever it was they were doing. That was the justification behind your shared look with Eddie, and the tension holding you two apart faded within seconds. If anything it spurred you on. You raked your fingers through his hair, mussing the roots at the crown of his head, covering the side of his body with yours, stroking his cock. The consequences didn’t matter. He increased the pressure and showed you how he liked it when you looped your thumb and index around the edge of his fat tip and pumped him faster—

Ding, ding, ding.

The kiss slowed from the distraction, but you tried to keep going, staying in the moment with Eddie’s praise burning your cheeks. He was eager, he was close. He was whispering, “Feels fucking good when you—yeah—like that,” when you added the twist of your wrist to the end of motion.

“Ed!” Mr. Moore’s voice ruined the moment. “Where’d he… And wasn’t she at her desk a second ago?”

Ding, ding ding!

Your foreheads crashed together in a defeated groan.

Eddie sagged completely limp on the creeper. “Why do you do this to me?” He dropped his arms in a big shrug, kicking his legs out flat, throbbing hard in your palm. You curbed the urge to keep going and dragged your fingers away.

“Hey, you’re the one who started this,” you sniffed, sitting back to fan your face in effort to make yourself presentable while he considered rolling under the car for the next eternity to hide his blazing red cheeks.

“I was a good worker before you came along,” he argued, pointing at you with a nail outlined in grime. He did it with such vigor his shoulders curled off the creeper, sitting up to give you a real good talkin’ to. “I never did this sorta shit with anyone before you showed up. You’re bad for me. You drive me crazy.” Not an ounce of anger dared enter his tone, not even having strength to control his smile from going lopsided, dimpling, nose scrunching in a badly contained laugh. Never would he want you to think he was mad at you, even as a joke. He was soft like that.

Eddie broke first, and that’s all you needed to kiss him against the black Mustang door, thud on the metal deadened by his nervous hand coming up to brush his curls flat.

“You drive me crazy too,” you promised against his lips. “Now, try not to cum your pants when I bend over to get this trash, and have fun explaining to the guys why you can’t stand up for the next few minutes.” You cocked your head, and smacked your tongue in a hard, “‘Kay?”

He glared at your smugness. Glared at your backside, too. Scowled at his grip formed around the swollen length rising so obvious no matter how he fixed his legs, and surrendered to the humiliation of laying back on the creeper, summoning enough dignity to roll himself to the other side where a gaggle of boots scuffed the ground in search for him, and give some excuse that he was very busy fixing something and wouldn’t be available for the foreseeable future.

originally thursday's section in chapter twelve was split into three separate scenes. i was almost finished writing the first two when i took the section in a different direction and mashed all the important elements into the scene in the breakroom which did make the cut. truthfully i had only written to eddie's line of "wanting it so badly" and they would've gotten interrupted at that point (before any touching), but since this isn't exactly canon, i went ahead and had fun and made it a little spicier.

you might also recognize some imagery, lines of prose, or descriptions i salvaged from this piece and put into the final one!

[pseudospaceship]

The Curse of the Great Wolf

It's time, my loves.

The gender-swapped Emmrook Mummy AU is live. This is not a drill.

Chapters 1 and 2 on AO3 now for your enjoyment. It's restricted to members but if you're reading a lot of AO3 maybe do yourself a favor and sign up. It's free!

“Ha!”

Emmrich jumped, just resisting throwing a ball of sickening magic at the assailant as he turned to face them. Mrs. Archili’s paper fluttered to the ground.

A blond, clean-shaven dwarf in a Kirkwaller tunic with half its hooks undone doubled over laughing. “Oh, you should see your face, Volkarin!”

“Varric Tethras!” Emmrich ran his hands over his coat. His nerves needed the straightening more than the fabric. “I could have killed you, man! What are you doing here?”

“Was going to come see you.” Varric composed himself. “I decided to take a nap first, so I found somewhere quiet. Heard you coming, didn’t know it was you, thought it would be fun to make a student piss himself.” He shrugged, not quite in apology.

“Appalling.” Emmrich retrieved the paper from the floor and set to reorienting himself among the stacks. He’d overshot his target by a few units.

Varric called himself a writer. He’d even published some decent pulp serials, Emmrich had heard, but most often he made his living at treasure hunting and gambling. He followed Emmrich to the shelves he’d been seeking. “I think I found something.”

Now was an appropriate moment for sarcasm. Emmrich rolled his eyes. “Varric, we are no doubt friends, but I am not in the business of appraising junk for you to sell. How many times—”

“No, Junior, I really do think it’s something this time. Look.”

Emmrich turned his head enough to regard the dwarf, far more than foot shorter, with a sidelong gaze and a pursed mouth at the appellation. “What?”

Varric held forth an object. It was a little larger than his palm, hexagonal and boxlike. Its bronze faces were covered in engravings and hairline gaps between panels.

Emmrich gently lifted it from the dwarf’s hand. “My word. What is this?”

“See? Something, right?”

“The designs aren’t familiar to me.” He held it up to the lamp that illuminated the bookshelf. “They’re not Old Tevene. And it doesn’t look Dalish. Some kind of pictograph, clearly.” He tore his eyes away from it to look at Varric. “Where did you get it?”

“A dig,” Varric said. “Near Trevis.”

“Trevis. Hm.” Elven birthing rituals forgotten, Emmrich wandered back to the alcove, where the light was more suitable for close investigation. The spaces between the panels weren’t simply engravings. They betrayed something of the piece’s construction, and in combination with the curved, slightly upraised border around its top….

He pressed at a promising-looking divot in one side, and the top burst open. Six triangular petals now pointed away from the box’s body, oddly cut on their edges like jigsaw pieces in a way that was masked when they were closed. Within nestled a folded piece of very, very old papyrus. “Varric,” Emmrich breathed. “What in the Maker’s heavens…?”

[ellempeh-art]

Foto dump of a recent project!

I was on the look for a hexagonal present box for a birthday present (Because Hexagons are the best shape ofc), but I couldn’t find one.

So I decided to make one myself!

And I am lowkey really proud of how it turned out 🥰

I used scrap cardboard I had lying around to cut out the parts, gummed paper tape to glue it all together (which was SO much fun I loved that part!) and then covered the inside and outside with normal craft paper.

This was honestly so therapeutic I love projects like this.

[daily-madcom-drawings]

I think I'm brave enough to go off-anon!!

Anyway.... I wanna see the notes 👁️👁️ (if you want to ofc)

Okay these are a mix of notes on how I draw them, what I think they're like, and just a liiittle bit of lore

It's long so I'm putting it under a readmore

Firstly, general notes

texture becomes more aggressive with high energy emotions (so when angry or flustered) and fizzle when feeling low energy emotions (depression, reproach, hurt)

‌they do all experience emotions, but at like 10% strength compared to average grunts (except Analyst, who feels emotions more with every playtest)

‌can all go visit the machine. Doesn't mean they all want or like to

Are they siblings? Coworkers? Worse? Depends whom you ask

Auditor

‌"burns" things to store them

‌reverse burns them to get them out

For example, ‌he doesn't shape flames into weapons. He's actually just summoning swords from the other place

‌if those swords get left in Nevada for too long they dissolve, kinda like S3LFs dissolve in purgatory. That's littering! Pollution!!

Pointy but flow-y. Hands look like claws because of this

Eyes like agent glasses. The glasses are actually like that to imitate his eyes

‌textured like itchy sweater

Deliberator

‌tentacles are ribbons/crash logs/instructions from machine (1 of those probably, not sure yet)

‌can grab floating glitches from around his head or break off tentacle end to turn into a floating screen. To check his emails

Rounded rectangle eyes

Very square design. Like blocks almost

‌textured like smooth paper [might change with Analyst]

Stygian

‌mmmmm water. You can put paper boats on his head/back. Silly. Analyst loves to do this because his whole job is "fuck around"

‌transports things by thanos snapping (read: touches) them into cold steam (vapour? Condensation?? You know how when you have a cold drink it "steams"? That. Alternatively, liquid nitrogen)

‌to bring things back, "pours" vapour to fill the shape

Bullet shaped eyes. Because I wanted to make them rounded, but oval would be too similar to Deliberator squinting

Generally rounded and wavy. Soft shapes

‌smoke texture feels like cool air. Wavy texture feels like if you have latex gloves on and put your hands in a cool pool

Conductor

‌glitches frequently get in the way. Sometimes form into bugs maybe? Little messengers

‌can and will grab a stick of glitch (because his glitches are horizontal, like lines) and beat you with it. Just as likely to turn it into balloon animals though

‌transports things by turning them in the 4th dimension and turning them into glitches. If this makes any sense

‌returns things to Nevada by turning them in the 4th dimension again

‌wire hands wire hands. Can use them to plug into devices

Squished hexagon eyes. Because. Hex codes for colours. There's the hexadecimal system. Idk I just associate computers with the number 6

‌Texture feels like holding arm near those old box-y TVs

Analyst

‌can grab floating rhombi and make them into sticky notes/notepads. Writes (or scratches them, more like) notes to self this way. Can never find the correct rhombus when it's needed/j

Youngest child /j. Treats others as family

‌only employer to really truly experience emotions. Except maybe it was all simulated, because is the Analyst really still the analyst during playtesting? Is what happens during playtesting really "real"? Angst potential

‌all employers have emotions. Hers are just stronger because of how many times he was a grunt and experienced "real" emotions

‌textured like if a broken mirror wasn't sharp. Smooth glass like [might change with Deliberator]

There's also a few things two employers share. For example Audi and Analyst have pointy hands

[savethegrishaverse]

PIÑATA PARTY TIME!

Our latest exciting project is to deliver a piñata to Netflix HQ! The sunny piñata, representing our Sun Summoner herself Alina Starkov, will contain messages and goodies from the fandom telling Netflix why they should renew Shadow and Bone and greenlight Six of Crows spinoff.

There are two ways to contribute:

1. In person:

Coming to ASOCAS in Paris? We will be writing some cards and making origami there, so keep an eye out for our hexagonal Third Army badges and name tags or look for people busying themselves making origami shapes! We will have spare paper and card for anyone who’d like to join us or bring your contributions to give to us in Paris.

2. By post/mail

Send your contributions to:

Letters

PO Box 308

Rio Linda

CA 95673

USA

Parcels

801 M Street #308

Rio Linda

CA 95673

USA

We are collecting from now until the 25th of May, so make sure you leave plenty of time for your items to reach the USA!

[minhio22]

White Day Surprise

Ando shiki x reader

You found it weird , finding a box of chocolates under your desk. I mean sure, every other girl is finding either chocolate or disappointment but you didn't expect for you to be in the former considering it was White Day. No name, no signature, no thing to go off of just a nearly written note that wrote 'thanks'.

You held the piece of paper up and examined it. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, just some hard paper that you could get from a craft store. You moved it to the ceiling light as if it could reveal some sort of secret but nope. You couldn't stop admiring the penmanship though, it was prettier than yours. You just wished you had a clue at whose handwriting it was. You then placed the card back down on your desk and your eyes wandered back 5o the box.

A hexagon shaped white box neatly tied with a purple ribbon. You haven't opened it yet. You were too busy trying to figure kut what you did to get this gift. Usually a girl who gets chocolate on this day is basically getting a returning gift from the on that they give on valentine's, however you didn't recall ever giving one.

You hadn't finished accessing the situation when the ball rang, signaling the start of class. You supposed you could continue pondering about it later as you slide the box under your desk. Unbeknownst to you the whole time you did your antics of checking the gift a pair of eyes were following your every move.

You went to the rooftop during recess, bringing the small box of chocolates with you. You don't know why but no one ever really comes here so it's a really nice place for a getaway alone.

You were walking to the edge but it turns out you weren't alone. He didn't seem to notice you until you got closer, your footsteps the only noise that signaled your presence.

“Ah, Y/n, what are you doing here?” Shiki asked timidly.

You looked at him, soft fluffy brown hair that always made you tempted to run your hand through it, pinchable round cheeks and those eyes that sometimes seem to waiver but always sparkle when he's rapping. If you were asked to name a cute boy at school it would be him albeit the little bundle of nerves he is.

You got lost in your thoughts until you snapped out of it. “Oh? Hmm? Oh… just needed some quiet time to think about something.” You answered.

Shiki seemed to have caught on as his eyes were on the box in your hand. He blushed faintly but it went unnoticed by you. You walked past him to the edge of the roof which was fenced off.

“You know Shiki? I'm surprised to see you here. You never seem keen on this place.” You told him, still looking at the horizon. You sat down and patted the floor beside you. “Care to join me?”

Shiki sat down although he looked pale and his breath had quickened a bit. “Hey, you don't need to force yourself to join me. As I thought you don't really like this place, Shiki.”

Shiki shook his head. “N-no it's fine. I-i wanted to be here.” Truth be told he was there because he knew you frequented the roof a lot. It took him a lot of courage to get there but it'll be worth it in the end.

You hummed thoughtfully as you examined the box that you had placed in front of you. You had finally opened it, the ribbon now in your hand. “What do you reckon Shiki?” You picked up a chocolate and examined it. It seemed handmade and seemed delectable.

“It looks good. Handmade.” Shiki noted.

“Yeah, I still have no idea who gave it to me although I have to give it to them. It looks delicious.” You took a bite. “And tastes delicious too.” You were lost in thought which made you miss Shiki’s expression, flashing from surprise and returning to normal again. It caught it off guard that you didn't know who gave it to you when it should've been obvious.

“Hmm? Wouldn't that mean you gave someone a valentine?” Shiki asked.

You did plan to give it to the boy beside you but you caught cold feet at the last moment and left the box of chocolates somewhere. You worked really hard on them however you didn't manage to give it to him when you saw his smiling face. He just felt out of reach to you. “Did you get any? Valentine chocolate I mean.” You asked.

Shiki blushed. “Ah yeah, one.”

That made your stomach drop and maybe got you a bit jealous but it's your fault that you ran away at the last moment. Anyways it was you to blame. “Ah I see….” You went quiet.

“Say-” Shiki started.

“I'm going to take my leave now, Shiki. Thanks for the company.” You left the rooftop before Shiki could even speak.

He sighed frustrated at the lost chance. He stared at the box of chocolates that you had forgotten and picked it up. He was ecstatic that you liked it but he wished he would man up and tell you his feelings just like Yohei and Saimon had advised him to. He had hoped to tell you that he had received that box of chocolates. Someone had found them with his name and your signature on it and passed it on to him. He was a blushing mess at that time. To think someone like him to have his feelings returned even though you were unaware of it was absolute heaven. The little animal shaped chocolates you had taken so much care into making almost made him tear up and the short but simple note that you wrote got his heart fluttering. ‘You might not think much of yourself but I think a lot about you.’ was what you wrote. You didn't have the neatest handwriting but he could tell you tried to make it as neat and pretty as possible for him which touched him. He had got back to the bar in such a chipper mood that day even when Ryu came to pick him up he was curious. Saimon and Yohei too but they seemed happy to see him in such a good mood. The box of chocolate you had forgotten would eventually be returned to your desk with a new note hidden in the crevasse of the box. Only when you finished the chocolates would you find it. It would eventually end up going home with you. And that night, you would eventually lie on your bed with the ‘thanks’ note in hand, staring at it. Wondering who it could be and you being full of regrets about missed opportunities with Shiki, things left unsaid. Someday these things will be said but maybe today wasn't the day.

[bxtonpxss]

opacho is not someone gyutaro would call a friend - he doesn't have friends. in fact, if he had it his way, he'd spend a majority of his endless existence eating and sleeping, though he'd never see an ounce of its rewards. learning of this holiday and it's ridiculous nature, he doesn't have much interest in knowing that he, like usual, will not benefit from it. instead, he focuses on the intense yearning to take and take before others can see their rewards. he has little manners and rarely thanks people - unless it's sarcastic or filled with disdain. yet, he knows opacho has done more than a decent job at baiting humans - all for the sake of a hashira showing up. the gift he has in hand is nothing short of disappointing. another human trinket that makes little sense - silky fabrics that are colorful and too bright for his exhausted eyes. daki could use it, but he knows she'll complain about the color. with paper torn and a broken box in hand, he surveys the contents before idly shoving it towards opacho, grunting slightly. "guess you've earned some type of reward for all the food you've lured in." it's the best happy holiday opacho will receive.

The evening was quiet, the faint hum of insects being the only sound as Opacho sat cross-legged on the engawa, staring blankly at the stars as her thoughts drift back to her earlier conversation with Gyutaro. It was frustrating to explain who Santa was and the concept of Christmas to a creature that's lost its humanity. Not that it really interested him, she supposes. It was probably for the best anyways, as he didn't seem to care about anything else much beyond his sister.

The demon's sudden approach pulls the child from her thoughts. She stares at the battered box that was suddenly thrust at her then blinks up at him in confusion before cautiously taking it, crumpling the torn paper as she pulls out a hexagonal patterned orange and yellow colored fabric. Opacho turns it over in her hands trying to make sense of what it was—a ribbon perhaps? Maybe a scarf?

Was he giving her this because of their conversation? He probably took it from someone then. Opacho hesitates briefly, unsure if she should even thank him or take the present, but she still feels somewhat compelled to at least acknowledge the gesture. Tis the season and all. "Oh... uhm… thanks?”

@starchxsn

[paperkawaii]

Origami Hexagonal Gift Box Tutorial

Learn how to make a 6 sided origami hexagonal gift box. Using 1 sheet of paper for each the box & lid, customise the top of the lid. - Paper Kawaii #IntermediateOrigami #OrigamiBoxes #Shareable

[peach-artblog]

flashback to 98 I wanted a furby when I was a kid for Christmas since we were poor I was sad that I knew I wasn't going to get one till I saw a hexagon box wrapped in the nicest paper from my mom and step dad and I didn't think it would be a rare snowball furby that was the last remaining one at the toys r us that my step dad managed to get from a guy who worked there for 200$ since he had some hidden in the back, and I still have this furby to this day!

[hexagonalthing]

*PT hops out of a portal, looking around for someone. Eventually, they do spot Hexagon*

Hey, Hexi!!

I know its a bit past Christmas, but it took longer to finish this than I thought it would..!

*they pull something out of the portal and hold up a big, long box…. One that is messily wrapped in paper with a bow, and the length seems to be 6 times its width*

-PT

ohh wow!! thanks PT, what is this?

[they unwrap it eagerly.]

[popculturebuffet]

Sam and Max Beyond Time and Space Retrospective: Moai Better Blues (Patreon Review for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy freelance police and welcome back to my look at the sam and max telltale games! We're onto season 2 episode 2. After a little christmas in august we're having a science fiction double feature for halloween as this review ended up behind due to a new member of the family.

This is Maddie. She's 5, she's precious, she's very loud , and she's very attached to me.

But even new fluffy good girls with spangly collars can't stop the march of sam and max.

Following up from our heroes adventures in the north pole, this ep finds our heroes dealing with an adventure that's weird even by sam and max standards. And I want to let that sink in because we spent last season stopping a child star hynosis crime ring, starring in a one episode sitcom with a british chicken don knotts, inflitrating a mafia chuck e cheese, running for president against a horny lincoln memorial, murdering the internet and finally facing down with a sentient plankton colony via psychic powers and magic tricks on the moon. And that's not even getting into that guy who would never put his hands down. What was his deal?

So what lies in the greatest mountain of sam and max madness? Stoned Moai, triangular portals, sea monkeys, ghost godlfish, baby jimmy hoffa and horny statue love triangles. So join me under the cut for the madness.

We open with our heroes returning from the North Pole a month after the previous game, with it now snowing, providing a nice atmosphere to things. Before they can get back to the usual banter some fresh nonsense comes in: A triangle chasing their beloved friend Sybil.

It has a neat design too, red, pulsating with lines... it's an excellent triangle all things considered. B+

At any rate we need to stop it, so we go to the wisest sage for weird shit there is: Bosco. It's a nice way to keep him still useful while not having him be one of your item guys. Bosco is getting ready to bunker down from T.H.E.M.

But tells our hero their new foe is a bermuda triangle, an eldtirch shape that sucks people up to another place, and can only be stopped with most of the shapes. Most.. never come into play and are just for a good joke, like blue polyheadrons making them really want to roll them dice and maybe start a live play with a dungeon master with long hair and the voice of god.

The important one is red hexagons stop them.. and the game was REALLY unhelpful with this one. I did have my hints flavor blasted up to the maximum max could do without bursting a kidney.. but he just kept saying the shape and outright told me to go back to the office.. where it entirely wasn't. WE do have a new trophy though, boxing betty. So.. that's nice?

The solution lies in Stinky's diner, where i'd gone earlier since the Cops can't do buisness over the sound of screaming. Amateurs. Stinky can though even with the racket outisde and gives us a granite sandwitch that i'm pretty sure just.. sat in my inventory all chapter. Seriously you don't relaly use it for anything even when you think it'd be obvious like replacing a stone max's ear, and it's more just to set up getting a basalt sandwich from her later. It's on the kid's menu only though.

She is useful in that she has a stop sign for you and with some spray paint from your headquaters, you can make it deep red. Before we go though another beloved supporting character makes a cameo: Flint Paper. I just love how despite being grizzly and willing to beat up random strangers for money, as are we, Flint just.. cheerfully greets our heroes with a hey fellas every time. He's just so happy to see our heroes and they have a deep genuine admiration for him. Like with Sybil in the first episodes, it's nice to see someone our heroes actually like and unlike Sybil, it's nice to see there's at least one person they haven't traumtized. Yet. He's watching Bosco for Bosco's Mom who'se understandably worried about her son because you know, his whole deal.

For now though we go to stop the triangle in the name of love... only for hilariously this all to be mostly pointless as once Sybil stops, Abe shows up , gets sucked in and she goes after him. It's off to Easter Island!

Turns out Sybil and Lincoln are fine and are just enjoying the nice weather. Once again.. this is a dead end puzzle wise as the two are just there to move their subplot along. Unlike the sandwich though, it's at least entertaning.. and mildly creepy as Abe perves on one of the moai present.

Why the bermuda triangle lead to easter island.. is not something we'll be getting into here. What matters is the moai see sam and max as their savior. Well the middle one, a kindly lady moai abe's creeping ion, is. The left one has half his face buried and is contstantly upset, projecting storm clouds when pissed off that are naturally useful, and the right one is

And is largely useless, mostly just sniping at you.

Each has a power of the elements: Rain for the buried one, wind for the nice one and earth for the pedantic douchebag. The fire one was sadly was scattered to the winds long ago, but he did leave behind a son at least to carry on his legacy

At any rate before we can use the powers of nature itself for fun and profit, we have some problems: As it turns out the nearbye volcano is about to erupt and murder them all due to some understandable but tragic errors

Problem is someone's guarding his lair... and if you haven't played the game yourself, I warn you: You are not remotely ready. I sure wasn't. So whose in our heroes way? Why it's Jimmy HOffa in the body of a baby!

Yeah... look I love Sam and Max for being so gloriously weird. Weird as hell is one of my faviorite kinds of humor as long as their's direction behind the chaos. But It's still easily the biggest what the fuck moment the franchise has thrown me so far and that's with this happening last chapter

Granted I got spoiled there is some sort of payoff to the Mariachis via a thumbnail, and there is some actual logic behind this.. but even for this franchise "Jimmy Hoffa whose in the body of an infant because he drank too much from the fountain of youth pointing a gun at yoU" is a bit much. And more to the point they NEVER explain why he's working for the episodes big bad.

I.. can't help but love it though BECAUSE it's such a uniquely stupid swing: they had this idea, found a way to have it logically make sense and then put it in the game in full, all while giving us a ton of great jokes as Sam cannot ressit teasing him on the fact he's a baby.

We'll deal with this teamster later, for now we meet the other rugrats on this island: Amelia Earheart, DB Cooper, and The LIndburgh Baby... .

Their mostly here to set up a surfboarding mini game which frustrated me. It's not the game itself, it's a fun enough little distraction if fairly hard to get the analogue controls down on my switch version. It felt like the kind of browser game i'd play as a kid.

My annoyance.. is that the game dosne't tell you that you get nothing for it until you've triggered the right story event. So I went through the whole thing for nothing. Thankfully I also enabled mini game skipping.... I still will TRY not to use it often as these are part of the game and thus need to be evaluated as much as the point and click parts, but in this case i'd already done the actual task so when it asked me to again. As for why again, the trick to getting rid of our little friend involves serving him a drink, using a tiki glass you can pick up at the bar those dumb babies are at. But he'll only take union waitstaff, so you have to play the game to get cerfitied by him. IT makes about as much sense as it sounds. Ah back to normal for this franchise.

To actually do anything though we need some fountain of youth water unfortunately there's something in it

So to take care of them we have to complete a few other tasks

First is the COPS. As i'm guessing is standard for every chapter,we have another driving VR Game from them, this time a fun rythum based one with the beats going as you drive on them. THey thought it'd change the world.. those poor dumb bastards. It's clearly a jab at guitar hero, but it's a decent challenge while still being a lot of fun.

With that we get a car horn and that's the key to our next puzzle: We need to help Glenn Miller, a wwII era band leader whose also now a baby, stage his comback by giving him that new sound he's been looking for. Since the horn plays i've been workin on the railroad, it's just the ticket. He just needs a whistle sound, which you easily get by dumping some gasoline disguised as a drink into a nearbye fire, setting off a tea kettle. He gives you a conch with the single recorded on it. Apparently The Bermuda Triangles also visited skypeia.

Using the dial, we can finally solve our pirahana puzzle.. in theory. In practice it's utterly frustrating if you can't figure out the trick, not helped by Max CONSITENTLY telling me to use the thunder storm moai.

Breaking it down: using the glen miller dial conch, you play it for the nice moai, which gets her whistling. Now when you tick off her half buried friend next to you, which naturally max does with ease and maybe too much glee.. in fact i'm starting a " Going to Hell For This" counter, for each time we ruin someone's life, torture them or what have you to progress, or just for funzies, as we did it a LOT last season and so far have done it a lot. Now I"ll make acceptions for say outright villians or people who deserve it. And even then it'/s about proportions. For example, pelting the soda poppers with urine and bleach? Acceptable, their the soda poppers. Need I say more. But even if Jimmy Two Teeth sucks a LOTTT, nearly driving him to unalive himself is a bit much, not helped by Max's reaction essentially being

He certainly thought it hard enough. So we'll count that one, still keeping leonard hostage after almost a year, sending santa to hell (even if he was possesed), and not bothering to actually help save christmas. So going into this episode we have

Things We're Going To To Hell For: 4 And we can add from this episode taunting that poor moai.

Things We're Going to Hell Fort: 5

So I assumed both from the hint ONLY mentoing the moai , who creates a little storm cloud when uspet and the wind we were supposed to blow it at jimmy hoffa. Instead... it does nothing. It just dissipates if blown too far and never gets near him. Instead we use the portals, which are frustrating as the game makes it clear the two near the entrance are connected.. but dosen't make it clear EVERY portal is connected this way.

The solution is to open one by the fountain of youth, then open another next to the underground moai, have the good moai blow the cloud and boom, a LOT of dead pirhanas and a free fountain of youth. Also

Things We're Going To Hell For: 6

And with that we can use the glass to scoop some up, give it to hoffa... and blink him out of existance. THings We're Going To Hell For: Still 6 (He Deserved It Yo) It's REALLY sad when killing someone by making them age themselves out of existance isn't the worst thing we've done today. Or even this month.

This event also moves along Sybil's subplot for the season and who boy. Strap yourselves in because I haven't seen a character nosedive this fast in many moons. So the whole episode, Abe and Sybil have been picnicking, only doing that on Abe's suggestion.. and only so he can oggle the middle good moai. Yeah after several episodes of at worst being out of touch and mildly annoying.. abe's somehow lept straight to the bottom and is perving on someone right in front of his girlfriend and THEN asks her to have plastic surgery to look more like the moai.

Sybil runs off in tears.. and SOMEHOW, SOMEHOW, this gets worse... as Abe THEN tries to hit on the moai. To her credit she shoots him down fast and we get a great response out of him, a casual "that's fair". So he's still funny he's just WAY more of an asshat. I mean granted we just committed two murders in a row, so i'd SAY we can't judge.. but those murders were to save a LOT of lives from death and were of a bunch of fish and a murderous infant man.

Anyways with this we enter our final puzzle set, continuing from the formula laid out last time. Sadly.. they also fall into a fairly trite, terrible stereotype. It's forgivable enough for the time.. but it's still pretty tone deaf. I can't blame them for fixing it as unlike the various lines corrected for save the world, this is a large part of the plot and thus really coudn't be futzed with.. but it's still not great.

Okay so for our final stretch our heroes run into your standard tone deaf "the natives are stupid and belivie anything is their god" plot only this time it's sea monkeys.

Yeah.. they.. really coudl've thought this one out a bit more. We have to convince them max is their god/chosen one/whatever instead, in order to replace an old advesary: Mr. Spatula, sam and max's goldfish whose mad he's died and thus is willing to take an island with him. Now you may recall, even if I didn't name him last time, he died. And he did. THIS IS HIS GHOST.

So to prove ourselves we have to do three tasks. The first is easy and I stumbled into accidently: We have to make the water into BANANG!, an energy drink powder bosco happens to have a lot of.

To get it away from him, we have to torment him.. again. This time we simply radio in, claim to be THEM

And Bosco goes deeper underground, there's too much panic in this town. So we got the powder.. but we also traumtized a friend for life so

Things We're Going To Hell For: 7

Next is adding an ear to a rock formation that looks like max. Once again the sandwitch is useless.. except as a clue. We finally need that basalt sandwitch for kidz, so it's time to use the fountain of youth water on ourselves.. and ONCE AGAIN the game gets frustrating as you transform back very fast from drinking it. The trick is to use a gong I honestly forgot about in Stinky's diner max reminded me of. I can't tell if I just suck at adventure games or this is poor level design.

Anyways we get the Basalt and get a really funnys equence with douchecanoe moai as it turns out dude just needed to blaze it and basalt gets moai REALLY good and fucked up. With that he casually laughs and dislodges a stalctite we use to finish the max.

We then finish this section. The stone feet of the buried moai are needed to anoit us. Also yes they have hands and arms stuck in there. We simply use the shell again, this time on a portal next to the best moai , she whistles, he taps his toes and we win. Kinda.

Problem is the island's still errupting with Mr Spatula planning to take us with it. The only way to stop it? Some clever puzzlery. We get a high preist medallion from the Sea Monkeys, dip it in some red slime, then shoot the triangle, using the portals to send the red triangle through it , eating the lava.. and presumibly murdering someone but we won't worry about that. Our ride home is gone though but Abe offers a lift while the moai celebrate.. before being sad they can't move. Then their abducted by what seems to be aliens!

Moai Better Blues... is a very mixed bag. The writing as usual is hilarious, and while it's a very

Sort of chapter, it's a FUNNY sort of what the fuck is this, from the various babies, to the black comedy shenanigans as usual, to our heroes riding out on Lincoln's head. It continues episode 1's mean streak, but the weirder setting and more over the top weird black comedy bits like unexistinsing hoffa help it feel far less opressive than last time. The deaths and what we do to bosco are way more over the top. Even abe and sybil's breakup, acompained by the mysterious maraichi's, is more funny than genuinely sad. I DO feel bad for Sybil, but abe is such a dick and he gets karmically punished for it as the moai lady SHARPLY rejects him, multiple times if you want, and he looses Sybil.

Gameplay wise.. it's a lot more obtuse. A lot more relying either on memory (Which isn't good for me but is at least fair) or hoping you figure it out and with most of the max clues being way less helpful. It's a pretty meh chapter all things considered and hopefully as we get spooky next time, we also get back to our quality. Speaking of which

Next Time: VAMPIRES! Just in time for the season. And since it's the 2000's their angsty emo eurotrash vampires! Oh BoY! Thanks for reading!

[dunnagesystems]

Void Fill with a Purpose: Using Honeycomb Paper to Stabilize Shipments 

In the fast-paced world of logistics and e-commerce, ensuring that products reach their destination intact is paramount. One of the most effective ways to achieve this is through the use of honeycomb packaging. This innovative material offers a sustainable, cost-effective, and efficient solution for void filling, providing superior protection for a wide range of products during transit. 

Understanding Honeycomb Packaging 

Honeycomb packaging is a paper-based material engineered to mimic the natural structure of a honeycomb. This design provides exceptional strength and cushioning properties, making it an ideal choice for stabilizing shipments. The interlocking cells create a robust framework that absorbs shocks and vibrations, preventing damage to the contents. 

What Is Honeycomb Paper? 

Honeycomb paper is the core component of honeycomb packaging. It consists of a series of hexagonal cells sandwiched between two layers of kraft paper. This structure allows the material to expand when unrolled, forming a flexible and resilient wrap that can conform to the shape of the product it protects. 

Benefits of Honeycomb Paper Packaging 

Eco-Friendly: Made from recycled materials, honeycomb paper is biodegradable and recyclable, aligning with sustainable packaging practices. 

Lightweight Yet Strong: Despite its light weight, honeycomb paper offers impressive strength, reducing shipping costs without compromising protection. 

Versatile: Suitable for a wide range of products, from electronics to glassware, and can be customized to fit specific packaging needs. 

Cost-Effective: Offers a budget-friendly alternative to traditional packaging materials like bubble wrap and foam peanuts. 

The Role of Honeycomb Paper in Void Filling 

Void filling is a critical aspect of packaging, especially for items that are susceptible to movement and impact during transit. Honeycomb paper serves as an excellent void filler due to its unique properties. 

How Honeycomb Paper Stabilizes Shipments 

When used as a void filler, honeycomb paper effectively fills empty spaces within packaging, preventing products from shifting. Its cushioning effect absorbs shocks and vibrations, safeguarding delicate items from potential damage. Additionally, the material's rigidity helps maintain the integrity of the package, ensuring that the contents remain secure throughout the shipping process. 

Applications of Honeycomb Paper Wrap 

Honeycomb paper wrap is particularly useful for: 

Wrapping Individual Items: Provides a protective layer around fragile products, such as glass bottles or ceramics. 

Cushioning Between Products: Placed between items to prevent direct contact and reduce the risk of impact damage. 

Filling Empty Spaces: Used to fill voids within boxes, ensuring that products do not shift during transit. 

Comparing Honeycomb Paper Packaging with Other Void Fill Materials 

While honeycomb paper is an excellent choice for void filling, it's essential to consider how it compares with other materials. 

Honeycomb Paper vs. Bubble Wrap 

Environmental Impact: Honeycomb paper is biodegradable and recyclable, whereas bubble wrap is typically made from plastic and may not be as environmentally friendly. 

Protection Level: Honeycomb paper offers superior cushioning and rigidity, providing better protection for fragile items. 

Cost: Honeycomb paper can be more cost-effective, especially when considering its durability and reusability. 

Honeycomb Paper vs. Foam Peanuts 

Mess Factor: Foam peanuts can create a mess and are challenging to clean up, whereas honeycomb paper is clean and easy to handle. 

Space Efficiency: Honeycomb paper can be compressed for storage, saving space, while foam peanuts can take up more room. 

Environmental Concerns: Foam peanuts are often made from non-recyclable materials, whereas honeycomb paper is eco-friendly. 

Implementing Honeycomb Paper in Your Packaging Process 

Integrating honeycomb paper into your packaging process can enhance efficiency and reduce costs. Here's how to get started: 

Assess Your Packaging Needs: Determine the types of products you ship and their specific protection requirements. 

Choose the Right Honeycomb Paper Product: Select from honeycomb paper sheets, wraps, or rolls based on your packaging needs. 

Train Your Team: Ensure that your packaging team understands how to use honeycomb paper effectively for optimal protection. 

Monitor and Adjust: Regularly assess the performance of your packaging and make adjustments as necessary to improve efficiency and protection. 

Sourcing Honeycomb Paper Packaging Material 

When sourcing honeycomb paper packaging material, it's crucial to choose a reputable supplier that offers high-quality products. Look for manufacturers that provide customizable options to suit your specific packaging needs. 

Paper Honeycomb Manufacturers in India 

India has a growing number of paper honeycomb manufacturers that produce high-quality packaging materials. These manufacturers offer a range of products, including honeycomb paper sheets and wraps, catering to various industries' packaging requirements. 

Conclusion 

Honeycomb packaging is more than just a void filler; it's a purposeful solution that enhances product protection, reduces environmental impact, and offers cost-effective benefits. By incorporating honeycomb paper into your packaging process, you can ensure that your products reach their destination safely and sustainably. 

At Dunnage Systems Inc., we specialize in providing innovative packaging solutions, including honeycomb packaging, to meet your specific needs. Our products are designed to enhance the efficiency and effectiveness of your packaging process, ensuring that your shipments are secure and your customers are satisfied. 

For more information on void fillers and protective packaging solutions, visit our Ultimate Guide to Protective Packaging and explore our Drop Down Fillers vs. Dunnage Air Bags comparison to find the best fit for your requirements.

[spanglehoney]

There’s a little box resting right in the middle of Kenny’s bedsheets, waiting patiently for them to notice. Either someone had been let into the RV recently… or someone knew exactly how to get in. The mystery doesn’t last long—not with the tiny bee doodled on the lid. Josie wasn’t exactly subtle.

Inside, nestled in a bed of wax paper, are honeycomb-shaped chocolates. Or, mostly honeycomb-shaped. Josie clearly tried her hardest to get the pattern just right, hexagons and all, but there’s one in there that definitely leans more “crushed mushroom” than “bee snack.”

A glittery blue note is tacked to the underside of the lid.

Love you to bits and bolts, Kenny!

I hope this batch doesn’t make you sick like last year. I was extra careful with the cream this time!!

Ken had honestly repressed the events of last year so hard that the mention of it brings forth a genuine laugh. Though, they distinctly recall saying multiple times to try it before giving it out next year. And now, all of a sudden, next year is this year. Here’s to hoping she took the hint.

They go for the crushed mushroom lookin’ one first, so they can look at the pretty ones longer. It’s very darling, as Jos so often tends to be, and her tedious work has paid off; it snaps like chocolate should, and tastes even better. They put the rest on the table to be savored throughout the rest of the evening, but they’re gone before the hour is through.

[paulafaircloth]

Styles That Work Best for Luxury Candle Packaging

As a candle designer who’s worked with boutique brands and high-end retailers, I’ve seen firsthand how packaging can make or break a luxury product. A candle isn’t just about scent—it’s an experience, and the box it arrives in sets the tone. Over time, I’ve identified styles that balance sophistication, functionality, and sustainability. Below, I’ll share three design approaches that consistently resonate with luxury buyers.

Why Luxury Packaging Matters for Candles

Luxury candles often come with a higher price tag, and customers expect every detail to reflect that value. A poorly designed box can make even the most exquisite candle feel ordinary. For instance, a flimsy lid or smudged ink might signal low quality, while thoughtful textures and finishes suggest craftsmanship.

The right packaging also protects the candle during transit and extends its shelf life. If you’re unsure where to start, companies like Packaging for Candles offer customizable solutions that merge aesthetics with practicality.

Key Takeaway 1: Embrace Minimalism with Bold Accents

Less is more—until it’s not. Here’s how to strike that balance:

Clean Shapes: Simple rectangular or cylindrical boxes keep the focus on the candle.

Metallic Finishes: Gold or silver foil detailing on logos or borders adds subtle glamour.

Contrast Textures: Pair smooth, matte boxes with embossed patterns or ribbon pulls.

Early in my career, I used overly ornate designs with busy patterns. Customers found them distracting. Switching to minimalist styles with a single bold accent (like a wax-seal stamp) boosted sales by 40%.

Key Takeaway 2: Prioritize Sustainable Luxury

Eco-consciousness is now a hallmark of true luxury. Here’s how to weave sustainability into your packaging:

Recycled Materials: Opt for FSC-certified paper or plant-based plastics.

Reusable Designs: Boxes that double as trinket trays or bookends encourage customers to keep them.

Natural Dyes: Earth-toned colors derived from clay or beetroot appeal to eco-aware buyers.

I once partnered with a brand that used fallen leaves pressed into their box liners. Customers loved the earthy, handcrafted feel, and the approach reduced waste.

Key Takeaway 3: Focus on Unboxing Rituals

Luxury is about the experience, not just the product. Consider these touches:

Magnetic Closures: They create a satisfying “snap” when opened.

Layered Packaging: Tissue paper, thank-you cards, or sample sachets build anticipation.

Scented Liners: Infuse the box lining with a hint of the candle’s fragrance.

For a holiday collection, I added a small brass key to unlock the box’s ribbon tie. The playful detail became a talking point on social media.

Balancing Style and Practicality

A beautiful box that cracks during shipping or fades in sunlight defeats its purpose. Always test prototypes for durability. For example, I once used a gorgeous matte-black box, but it scuffed easily. Switching to a slightly textured finish solved the problem without sacrificing style.

If you’re ready to explore luxury packaging options, check out Buy Product Boxes for designs that blend sophistication with functionality.

FAQs

What materials are best for luxury candle boxes?

Recycled cardboard, linen-textured paper, and bamboo pulp are popular. They’re sturdy, eco-friendly, and have a premium feel.

Can sustainable packaging still look high-end?

Absolutely! Materials like cork, seed paper, or recycled silk often look more luxurious than plastic alternatives.

How do I make unboxing feel special without raising costs?

Add small, low-cost touches like handwritten thank-you notes or reusable fabric wraps.

Are custom shapes worth the investment?

Yes, but start simple. Unique shapes like hexagons or pyramids stand out, but ensure they’re easy to assemble and ship.

Do luxury buyers care about color schemes?

Neutral tones (cream, charcoal, sage) are safe, but don’t shy away from rich jewel tones for seasonal collections.

How do I protect delicate finishes during shipping?

Use rigid boxes with reinforced corners and avoid glossy coatings that scratch easily.

By focusing on minimalist accents, sustainable materials, and memorable unboxing moments, you can create candle packaging that feels truly luxurious. Every detail tells a story—make sure yours is worth sharing!