Piltover in autumn. How long have I been here now? 4 months? 5? I don't know. And I'm not sure if I care.

The last rays of afternoon sun creep over my face as I walk down the busy road towards my flat. But the sun can't battle the brisk autumn winds any more, forcing their way through streets and alleyways dimly lit by pale technomagical lights. It's cold, not even my fur can defend me against the wind.

I don't really pay attention any more, walking through the streets that should feel at least a bit like home now but somehow don't towards my apartment that doesn't feel all too homey either. A nearly violent gust of wind hits me, pushing me back a bit. I look into the alleyway I was about to turn into. It feels a bit as if not even the wind wants me to reach my new home. It's pushing me back.

Back?... Where to? The academy? No. Tomorrow is another day for testing the miraculous possibilities that this facility offers me. In my fancy, shiny lab, cluttered with fuses, metal and whatever else you could possibly want if you were about to build an explosive. No. Not everything I could possibly want. I build bombs. I make test objects explode. I note down. I adapt. I repeat. All day. Every day. How can EXPLOSIONS possibly get boring?

I almost pass by my apartment building, completely sunken into myself. As I start rummaging through my pockets in search of the key, a wild urge to blow up the whole block starts building up inside me. Obliterating that whole grey, colourless monstrosity in one giant blast, leaving nothing but ashes and burning debris... my furry fingers clutch an edgy copper object in my back pocket, ripping me out of my thoughts.

I let myself in, pondering if I need some food or drinks for my night with no one but myself. Looking back out of the still open door I decide that I don't, slowly starting to walk further into the building after closing the door behind me. It's dark in the staircase but I find my way. I reach the third floor, panting heavily, cursing under my breath about the lack of elevators in this oh so developed city and human-sized stairs.

I open my apartment door, immediately dropping my stuff and my helmet with the green goggles on the floor next to the entrance. Home sweet home. Stale air greets me, the room is filled with it and barely anything else.

A bed, a closet for my jumpsuits, a small fridge, an oven, a tiny bathroom. Of course I could afford more. But why? So I can have more furniture gathering dust while I'm at work? I strip down to my boxers and take a quick look into the fridge, without any sufficient outcome.

I flop down on the bed, looking down my body. I need to do laundry again soon, I had to use one of these emergency-boxers today. How hard can it be to find some yordle-sized clothes in this city that doesn't have cute baby animals printed on them? Not even human kids should be forced to wear this, for a grown Yordle man like me this is an utter disgrace. I take off the underwear, looking at them in disgust.

Baby blue boxer shorts with little kittens and puppies printed on them, sleeping, playing around or just looking at me in the cutest way they could muster. Better be naked than having to see myself wearing these. I toss my last remaining piece of clothing through the room, semi-aiming for the trash can at the far side of the room.

On halfway they drop. A little puppy looks at me from my boxers disappointed. "At least you have you fluffy little friends to hang out with! Don't look at me like that!" I blare at it. So I'm talking to my underwear now. I know I'm considered weird by most Yordles. But in Bandle I always had friends who liked my insanity. At least one I had. I HAD. I haven't spoken to him since I told him that I was accepted here. I could have never imagined so much hurt and disgust in the eyes of my best friend. Of my only real friend, to be honest.

I switch off the light and turn around to avoid the cold light of the lights down on the street. It gets warm under the covers. I shut my eyes and turn around again. I silently moan of frustration. No sleep again? Let's get this over with, then... With no real motivation at all my right hand creeps down my belly. I lie on my back now, doing something to my crotch which could hardly be called caressing. But it serves it's purpose. I force myself to feel instead of think, squeezing my eyes shut and engulfing myself in blackness as my body reacts to its own touch.

I start stroking my manhood, almost violently. To late to stop now, to late to not feel disgusted of myself as well. I start to grab at my chest fur, mumbling words that I can't distinguish myself. Don't want to distinguish, really. I brain is off, only the strokes count. I'm not even sure if I'm hurting or pleasuring myself. It's probably both. Or none.

Heavy breaths. Nothing around me. I still mumble those non-words, louder and louder as I get closer to the end. Out of nowhere pictures flash before my inner eye.

A face-splitting grin. Golden eyes. Trapezoidal ears. A Mohawk. A blue Mohawk.

I cry out the last word I was mumbling as I cramp, my back arching, my eyes shooting open. I clench my fists, crying the last word out again, finally shooting gush after gush of semen, soiling my belly and chest fur. I still see that face in from of me, clear like daylight and just as bright. Only now I can comprehend the words I muttered. The word, actually. Not even a real word. A name.

I turn over, away from the pale light that shines in from outside, not bothering to clean myself up. The puppy on my underwear looks sad now, along with his furry companions. Not a single small, fluffy thing in this city, not even cute baby animals on children's underwear.

I squash my face into the pillow, the sheets absorbing parts of the fluids still sticking to my torso. The nothingness closes in on my. I try to sleep, to forget. To forget about tomorrow, about the new day that is just like this day which was just like yesterday. Which was just like any other day since I came here. The pillow absorbs my tears. Just like any other day.

What have I done?