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iamnotoriginalphil · 2 months

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hi!! I was wondering if you could write a melissa schemmenti x fem!reader fic where r is a teacher and at some point she's reading smut in the break room when no one is around but melissa finds out? whether it ends up nsfw or not is up to you :)

thank you 💖

Red Haired Protagonist (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)

Words: 3k

Warnings: mentions of smut, anxiety, mentions of blood

It might not have been a wise use of your time, but using your single free period to sit in the break room, book in hand, indulging in the spicer side of fantasy was what you found yourself doing. You sighed, the red haired protagonist sweeping up the love interest. Kisses exchanged in shadows, fingertips running over skin, growling into ears as hands explored previously unmapped skin. Your lower lip was caught between teeth as you read, caught up in the world being created on the page.

The bell rang and you startled, book falling from your hands. You scrambled to pick it up, only managing to push it further under the sofa as footsteps began to sound outside the door. You sat up straight as the door was pushed open, cheeks heated and embarrassment curdling in you gut.

“There ya are, hon,” Melissa said, striding into the room, “one of your kids is with the nurse. Took a dodgeball to the face. Blood everywhere. He’ll be fine but don’t panic when you see it on his clothes.”

“Oh, thanks. If it’s Kenny I’m sure he’ll be fine. He once ran into a wall face first and barely seemed to notice. He’s got a skull made of concrete,” you said.

She huffed out a laugh as she sat beside you. You shared a smile, book forgotten as you basked in her attention. Whenever you were on the receiving end of her attention, you felt privileged, your heart beating a little harder, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Knowing she’d chosen you to give her time to when so few were worthy of that privilege filled you with such a sense of pride, wonder making you flush under her assessing gaze.

“The kid’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you. What were doing in here while your kids were in the gym?” she asked, leaning back, one leg curled up on the sofa cushion between the two of you.

“Nothing. Just lesson planning,” you replied, trying not to break eye contact. She could smell a lie from a mile away.

Her arm came to rest on the back of the sofa, leaning towards you. You held your breath, her sparkling green eyes drawing closer, leaving you in danger of drowning in them.

“You ain’t got any paper or a pen,” she said.

“I was doing it on my phone,” you said, a slightly breathless giggle leaving your lips.

“Whatever you say, hon,” she said, leaning back again.

You made your excuses as Barbra entered the room, leaving the two women to talk. Scuttling back to your classroom, you did your best to ignore the way your heart was beating so fast from her close presence. And thanks to her heads up you didn’t have a panic attack when you saw Kenny’s blood splattered shirt after lunch.

You managed to make it to the end of the day, the book left behind slipping your mind. Between dealing with a glue crisis and trying to explain fractions through the use of pictures of apples the passionate embraces of two women on the pages of a fantasy story stopped being in the forefront of your mind, replaced with your kids and the questions they were asking. Which meant, when Melissa knocked on your door about twenty minutes after the kids had left for the day, you wondered what she was doing there.

“Hey there, hon,” she said, sauntering into your classroom.

“Hi,” you said, leaning back in your seat, letting out a long breath.

She perched on the edge of your desk, turning your mouth dry and your heart pumping fast. She crossed her arms, staring down at you, lips pulling up into a secretive smile that had your heart skipping a beat. You found yourself leaning towards her, the centre of gravity shifting to revolve around her.

“What are you doing here?” you asked her, “not that I never enjoy seeing you.”

You cursed your unfiltered thoughts slipping past your lips.

“I think you left something behind in the break room today,” she said.

“What?” You felt your smile freeze on your face.

“I’m no chump. I know when someone is trying to keep a secret. Now usually I don’t care.” She shrugged, hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, “but it’s you. Found it under the sofa. Not the best hiding place. You really want something to disappear try the wall behind the cafeteria.”

“What?” you repeated, not sure you were following her train of thought. All you could focus on was that you were the exception to the rule about caring. You were special.

“That poster about the fruit is covering a hole. No one can reach anything down there anymore,” she said, “I dug out your contraband.”

“Is it contraband if I’m not in prison?” you asked, not needing an answer.

“Why’d you hide it? You think I’ll make fun of you for reading? I love reading,” she said.

“No, I just…” You fumbled for words, trying to explain it without explaining the real reason, “I figured maybe the content would be… I don’t want people seeing me reading it.”

“What’s in it? Is it porn?” she asked, her interest level seeming to peak.

Your flushed cheeks and inability to look her in the eye seemed to only make her more interested. She laughed, that same laugh that gave you butterflies and made you seek her out. When your eyes darted up to her again, she was leaning towards you, as if trying to read you like the book that was now in her possession.

“I think I’m gonna keep it over the weekend. Call it a finder’s fee,” she said, “can’t wait to see what kind of dirty books you enjoy.”

“Mel, no, please don’t,” you said, fingers grasping onto the cuff of her jacket.

She looked down at it as your fingertip grazed her skin. The way her eyes looked as she turned them back to you had your breath catching.

“How bad can it be, hon?” she asked, voice taking on a husky tone.

“I just…” You didn’t want to admit exactly how much it would reveal.

“Come on, hon. It’ll be fun. We can talk about all the dirty details on Monday,” she said.

“We sharing dirty details in here?” Ava asked, surprising both of you.

She was standing in the doorway, looking in at the two of you. You hadn’t realised how close Melissa had grown to you, how close she was leaning until you jerked back, putting more distance between the two of you.

“Girl, you know I got the tea,” she said, sauntering into the room.

“I don’t wanna know it,” Melissa said, getting up from the edge of your desk.

“Aw, c’mon girl, let’s spill. Guess who I got grinding up on me in the club last night,” she said.

“See ya Monday,” Melissa called over her shoulder before Ava could go any further.

“Come on, guess,” she said, turning her entire attention onto you.

“No thank you,” you said, rising from your seat and collecting your bag.

“You’re no fun,” she called after your retreating back, “now you’ll never know who wanted this fine piece of ass.”

It wasn’t until you were home that you realised you hadn’t managed to get your book back from Melissa before she read it. You cursed Ava for distracting you when you’d been so close to getting it back before she knew. Before she knew exactly the kind of books you read and what they said about you.

You held out until Sunday night.

The anxiety had been building and you couldn’t take it anymore. Thoughts had been swirling in your head all weekend. Thoughts about what she’d think about you after seeing exactly the kind of thing you’d been reading. You didn’t want to know what she’d say on Monday. You weren’t sure you could ever look her in the eye again if she knew.

The thought of her asking you questions about it was too much.

Your fist was insistent as you hammered on her front door. You stumbled through it as she pulled it open, looking less than pleased to be disturbed. Her anger morphed into surprise as she caught you around the elbow, keeping you from landing on your face.

“Hon? What are you doing here?” she asked, slow to close the door on the outside world.

“I need that book back,” you said, so focused you couldn’t even feel embarrassment for almost falling.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“The book. The one you found. I need it back,” you said, “have you read it? Please say no.”

“Calm down, hon,” she said, her hand rubbing your arm.

“I can’t. Not until I have the book back,” you said.

“This couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“No.”

She looked down at you, concern swimming in those green eyes. You couldn’t catch your breath and you needed to know if she’d read it but you also didn’t want to know.

“Alright, hon. Come on. Sit down and I’ll bring it to you.”

She was gentle as she guided you into her living room, lowering you onto her plastic covered sofa. Your knee was bobbing as you were left to your own devices, Melissa slipping from the room. You listened to her footsteps on the stairs, ascending above your head. The floorboards above creaked and all you could focus on was the well of anxiety in your chest making you want to chase her.

You pressed your hands beneath your thighs, eyes flitting around the room. Picture after picture filled the room, showing Melissa with all of her family. You focused on them, trying to piece together Melissa’s life story if only to keep from hyper focusing on her footsteps above.

“Here it is,” she said, startling you.

You stood, snatching the book out of her hand. Your thumb traced over the cover, the words splashed over the front, the two women on the front embracing. Your cheeks heated and you looked up at her.

“Did you read it?” you asked.

“What do you take me for?” she replied. You let out a long relieved breath of air, “I haven’t had time to read all of it yet.”

“What?” Your head snapped up.

Those green eyes were twinkling and your stomach fell out your ass. She chuckled, low in her throat, placing her hands back on the book and tugging you a step closer.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you hon?” she murmured.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, not able to admit it.

“You left your bookmark in it, hon,” she said, tapping the cover.

“I don’t…” You tried again, before your shoulders slumped, giving up before you even started.

“Hey,” she said, gently tugging on the end of your hair, “no shame. We all get off to something.”

“I don’t get off to it,” you snapped, “it’s… I like the story.”

“Sure, hon.”

You shook your head, stepping back from her. You knew she wouldn’t get it. No one ever got it. Better to keep it secret rather than have people think you were some kind of deviant freak. When everyone else found out you’d be ostracised. No more shared donuts in the break room.

“You know, I couldn’t help notice that the characters in that… story seemed a bit familiar,” she said, clearly not noticing you wilting.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you muttered, “thanks for the book. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wanted to slink out of her house, tail between your legs, to worry about the impact knowing she’d read it would have on you. Warm fingers closed around your wrist, making you freeze. You couldn’t even look at her, the shame curling around your heart, squeezing it painfully.

“Hon, where are you going?” she asked.

“Home,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m trying to lighten the mood,” she said, fingers tightening around your wrist, “don’t leave yet.”

“Why? So you can make fun of me some more?” you snapped, whirling towards her.

“No,” she said, “so I can do this.”

Fingers curled around your chin and you found soft lips pressed against yours. You froze again, every synapse in your brain firing at once and yet your entire nervous system seemed to stop working. Your hand landed on her hip, not quite pulling her closer but not quite pushing her away either. You needed to ground yourself, to not feel as if this was happening to someone else or in your imagination.

She let you go, worry overtaking her expression as she drew away. You blinked then surged forward as she opened her mouth to say something. Your teeth clashed with hers and she chuckled as you winced. Her tongue licked into your mouth as she took control of the kiss. You melted, the hand on her hip pulling her closer, wanting to feel all those gorgeous curves against your body.

She mumbled something into your mouth but you were beyond caring. After months of imagining kissing her, sinking into fantasy any chance you could get, this was a dream come true. Only this was better than any dream you could have come up with.

“Fuck, hon,” she murmured against your lips, “do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

You kissed her deeper, your self-control all but in tatters. She groaned into your mouth, the fingers on your chin sliding up to tangle in your hair. The thump of the book dropping from your hand was muffled in your mind, so focused on her. Your newly free hand pressed between her shoulder blades, arm curling around her body to hold her closer.

She was slow to draw back, ignoring your whimper. She was soft as she gently tucked a strand of hair behind you ear. You were looking at her like she was the stars, beautiful and untouchable and yet right there still in your arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked, voice raspy and lips kiss stung.

“No,” you replied, “you stopped kissing me.”

Her throaty chuckle made your own smile spread across your face. She lent forward, giving you another chaste kiss. You hummed, arms tightening around her.

“Really, hon, are you okay?” she asked again.

“I think so,” you replied, really thinking about it, “I mean, I’ve wanted to kiss you since we met. I just didn’t know if that was something you’d want too.”

“Course I wanna kiss you. You’re hot. But more importantly, I like ya, hon. Barb says I’ve been obvious and you must be blind not to notice,” she said.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to get my hopes up in case I was wrong,” you said.

“You’re not wrong,” she said, softening before your very eyes.

Your breath caught, being offered the chance to see Melissa being so soft. She was smiling at you, and her eyes were sparkling, and all you wanted was to melt against her. She tugged on the end of your hair.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“That I’m really lucky,” you replied, “and I guess I’m wondering why now? I mean, you see me almost every day and you’ve never said anything. So what’s changed?”

“That book of yours, hon. I meant it when I said the characters seemed familiar. The descriptions are kinda similar to two people in this room right now. I don’t know if you noticed that but I sorta thought it was because you wanted to do those kind of things with me at least a little bit,” she said, “you gotta think I’m sexy if you want someone who looks like me to do that to someone who looks like you.”

“I do think you’re sexy,” you said, voice a bit faint.

Admittedly, you hadn’t wanted her to figure out that you had been reading a smutty book with two characters who bared more than a passing resemblance to the two of you. You thought it would gross her out and she’d never look you in the eye again. You hadn’t thought it would encourage her to kiss you. Certainly not when you were in the process of fleeing her house.

“It’s because I am,” she said, but you could see her relax with your words.

“You really like me?” you asked, needing some more reassurance of your own.

“I like you a whole lot, hon,” she replied, her eyes twinkling at you as she smiled, soft and engaging, making your heart flutter.

“Okay, good,” you said, “because I like you a whole lot too.”

Both of your hands settled on her hips, pulling her closer again, not able to stop yourself from touching her. Her own arms found their way around your neck, seemingly not able to stop herself either.

“And I guess I do want to do those things in the book with you,” you admitted, “but maybe not right now. Maybe after I’ve taken you on a date.”

“You’re going to take me on a date?” she asked, the pleasant surprise evident in her voice.

“I am. But you need to give me some time to plan it. I wasn’t expecting this to happen tonight and I want it to be special. Friday night?”

“Friday night,” she agreed.

You stared at her a moment longer before pressing your lips to hers, a desperation you weren’t used to feeling taking over. She sighed into your mouth and you thought you might be in heaven.

“You should go,” she mumbled against your lips, “or else I might not be convinced we shouldn’t do those things tonight.”

You chuckled, pressing another lingering kiss to her lips before stepping back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” you murmured.

You bent to retrieve your book, intending to take it home with you.

“Leave the book,” she said, “I’m going to need to study up if we’re going to be doing those things on Friday.”

Your mouth fell open but you left the book there, on the carpet of her living room, waiting to be read by your red haired protagonist when she swept you off your feet.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti imagine

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tiniedemon · 1 year

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— ♡

reasons kenny mccormick has been banned from us fast food chains

mcdonald’s

came behind the counter to make his own ice cream cone

smoked in the dumpster corral

hid in the bathrooms and walked out after close, scared the shit out of the employees

wendy’s

ordered 12 baconators and then left before he paid

took a broom from the storage closet and started sweeping a random spot in the floor

danced on top of the counter

taco bell

bought 14 soft tacos, took a bite out of each, and asked for a refund because he decided he wasn’t in the mood

bought a large drink, then refilled it with baja blast enough times to fill 5 gallon sized ziplock bags

stole an entire bin of mild sauce

panda express

tp’d the bathroom

bought a large cup, then used it to get enough ice and sweet tea to fill a large cooler

walked behind the counter and started doing the dishes in the back

burger king

i’m convinced you can’t get banned from a burger king

but probably accidentally drove his car through one of the windows

whataburger

ate an entire sandwich except for one bite and got a refund, multiple times

planked on top of the counter

sat behind a bush in the drive thru and jump scared customers

#kenny mccormick

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yekokataa · 11 months

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Pale lore in Sacred and Terrible Air

I pulled together some of my favorite descriptions of the Pale from Kurvitz's novel. All excerpts are from the excellent fan translation by Group Ibex, which I think really nailed the style of the game in these quotes.

Warning: Full of SPOILERS and extremely LONG!

The Pale, up close:

The main characters take a road trip to the Lemminkäise zone of entroponetic catastrophe in Katla. They hire a racecar driver and drive to the very edge of the disaster zone, where matter is actively dissolving into the Pale.

The border point disappeared behind them, along with the invisible boundary of winter’s orbit, beyond which is eternal winter. The asphalt also disappeared over time; they encountered rural families on sleds along snowy gravel roads. It is their great privilege to have seen the pale with their own eyes, where it has towered behind the silo since childhood.

Kenni sees the black mass of the forest slowly drifting into the sky. The earth crunches and cracks as the spruce trees tear themselves out of it, roots and all. The wood screams, and the frozen earth too, like they’re in a dentist’s chair. A cloud of limestone gravel flies into the air, and far above in the dark, the first trees are subsumed in the pale.

Tereesz, Khan, and the mad Suruese driver look outside, their heads tilted back, as the pale approaches from behind the house. Inside, the bass drum thumps robustly, and outside, behind the silhouette of the building, the dark mass of the forest rolls up into the sky across the entire visible horizon. The pale rises vertically from the spruce forests like a wave, from the mountain ranges above the expanse of the world. Its horror moves slowly, humming over the world, but the world is made of matter, and matter is evergreen, ancient; it sustains itself with surprising dignity even at the moment of disappearance.

The pale can lift up entire houses! Holy shit! Our boys make a narrow escape from the edge of the encroaching pale as a house is torn away from its foundation.

In the yard, where the wheels of the motor carriage have drawn a loop in the snow, Inayat Khan looks up at a farm building that hovers above him like a ghost. Electrical wire entrails hang out of the rotating object, black against the expanse of the starry sky. It drifts on into the pale with a self-evident calm. Up above, a trail of its furniture and crumbling foundation remains. In the yard in front of him, Khan watches how a startled Tereesz and Kenni follow the object’s path, their heads tilting back until they hit the wooden fence behind them. In a strange, panic-free concern, they all look in the direction of Ulv’s crumbling house. It seems as if every little crack comes from its limestone foundation. Soon it will rise up. But nothing happens. The pale freezes in place far away, behind the house; the creaking of the forest stops, and the music in the house also stops. Somewhere in the perceptible distance, on the edge of the frozen pale above, the farmhouse falls apart and disappears. […] The engine revs up and the carriage’s wheels spin in the snow. The mass of the pale can no longer support its phantom weight. It breaks down. The vast clearings crumple under it in an instant, exploding with powder snow; a collapse like a shock wave whirls over the world. Spruce trees bow under the blow, and the pale blasts open the windows of the old decaying manor house. It arches around the edges of the house, as if hesitating for a moment, and then explodes together, encompassing it. The pale grabs the manor in its lap, and somewhere inside, in a room with a low ceiling, the young man puts on his headphones. He reads the sweeping pale like a magnetic reader reads a Stereo 8 tape. […] The pale blows across the fields, on both sides of the village road. Its avalanche crashes onto the gravel; the rumbling wall approaches, glowing crimson from the motor carriage’s tail lights.

Travel through the Pale:

Floating magnet trains seem common, and they even go through the Pale. There's a brief mention that Tereesz once spent a week on a magnet train and was then told he wasn't allowed to travel for a year afterwards due to the dangers of pale exposure.

Outside on the platform, giant buffers are being pulled off the train. The umbilical cord is cut and thus, freed from the connecting bridges, the entire weight of the train with its five-fold carriage slats sinks onto the magnets. They howl at full power below the train cars. And then the flight begins. The magnetic support splits the North Sea under it in two. It’s quiet inside, the generators humming as the train whizzes by fifty metres above the water. The three of them stand together, laughing. Tereesz extinguishes his smoke in a bronze ashtray, and they turn their back on the observation windows. Ahead, the pale awaits, and past it begins a big world. […] Through the windows, all that’s left of the city behind them is the light pollution, a golden glow in the distant darkness of the snowstorm.

This floating train station has an illustration Rostov by the way.

For a historical travel example: the famous disappearance of the airship Harnankur. This airship was referenced in the game in the form of the 50-real vodka in the special edition commemorative bottle! Rostov's illustration from the novel is here, showing a model of the ship in Khan's basement.

One hundred and fifty years ago, on another isola—the Graad isola—it snows in the city of Mirova. It’s a midwinter evening, but thousands of people have gathered in the harbour. The quay bustles with them. In the background lies imperial Graad—church steeples and chimneys. The crowd is waving, bidding farewell to the airship rising into the sky. A swan made of wood and nickel rises into the blizzard, and the passengers of the world’s first interisolary flight wave to the crowd from its balcony baskets: well-dressed boujee people, with a never-before-seen adventure ahead of them. It’s the pale—terrifying, but at the same time such an upbeat and unforgettable experience. Modern technology, in the form of a luxuriously upholstered airship, now makes such an experience possible for an ordinary, if perhaps slightly better off, citizen. And on the other side of the pale—oh mystical pale!—the land of Katla awaits, with its royal capital of Vaasa. […] Two days later, the interisolary flight enters the pale, and then, barely six hours later, a deviation occurs in the airship’s course. “Harnankur” has gone missing with fifteen hundred passengers on board. The flight is believed to have drifted into an uncharted entroponetic mass, the pale superdeep.

Sound

The pale makes a hissing sound. Here Khan receives a phone call from one of the missing presumed dead girls, who may be a ghost or part of the pale, it's all left very ambiguous. It reminds me of the part in the game where you can call Slipstream SCA and hear a ghost trapped in the phone.

He picks up the receiver, and the hallway fills with the hiss of the pale. It grates in his ear. “Hello?” asks Khan. But no one answers. “Hello, who is it? Please tell me who you are!” he repeats, more and more pleading each time. The hissing becomes louder and louder, until finally it deafens him, the pressure in his inner ear goes awry, and only that vibration from who-knows-where remains, its centre. The silence goes through his flesh and bones like waves. It’s cold.

Later, we learn that the pale can actually come through the phone lines?? Creepy!

The speaker switches to a long-distance call; the pale seeps into the hall air from the fabric-covered ziggurat. The signal runs as an entroponetic sequence through the Great Unknown, from Katla to Graad. Relay stations clear the call from the noise of history along the way, but something always creeps into the wires—a ghost radio station. Its quiet voice in its unintelligible language reminds us what it’s here for. To end life.

It's also similar to the sounds of the pale latitude compressor! During a long distance call through the pale, a voice is heard spelling things out using an “international alphabet” like the real-world NATO phonetic alphabet.

This is how matter degrades, drop by drop, like an analog rhythm running from red through the colourless world. The international alphabet is hidden in the low-frequency waves, “... Nadir-Ellips-Gamut-Azimuth...” and so on, to the border of the settlement.

Culture, ideology

Zigi as a teen is a total edgelord when it comes to talking about the pale:

But above all, Zigi is still a nihilist. He reads dia-mat [dialectical materialism], says that animals are automatons, is a fan of behaviourism, and adores the pale and the nihilistic innocence of Mesque, Ambrosius Saint-Miro. […] The geography teacher sent him to the principal’s office, and Zigi stopped at the door, the zippers of his leather jacket jingling. “See you in the pale,” he said, and ran his index finger across his throat. Back when entroponetics was not discussed at school, many people gathered around Zigi during recess, and the corridor echoed with his half-truths: “The pale is made of the past,” he said. “All the lost things are jumbled up there, sad and abandoned. The pale is the world’s memory of the world. It accumulates matter and sweeps away everything in its path. This is what’s called entroponetic collapse.” “But when will it happen, Zigi?" “Yes, Zigi, when?” “It will happen in your lifetime, little Olle. At least, I hope so. History swallows the present; the world of matter disappears, desaparecido... That’s why there’s no point in our generation going to school. There will be no future. When you grow up, don’t have children like your underdeveloped bourgeois parents did. You’ll get to see them die, and that’s it. Compared to the pale, there’s only a small amount of the world left! In the end, the isolas will sink, dozens and hundreds of square kilometres of land mass, can you even imagine? Like a ship keeling over into the pale. Fwooom...” Zigi makes a sinking ship gesture with his hands, the zippers of his leather jacket jingling; the children gasp. “Don’t worry, Olle, this will be the peak of humanity.”

In the game, Zigi's brand of entroponetic nihilism gets two very brief (and kind of hidden) mentions, where it's named as entropolism. I've got those quotes saved in my post here.

Waves

The pale seems very wave-like in that scene where it lifts a house, and apparently it's also like a wave according to science:

“It’s an oceanographic myth. The Killer Wave.” Little Khan points in the direction of the body of water. The four of them watch from the safe warmth of a beach towel. Insects buzz in the dark, around the gas lanterns. “For a long time it was just that—a myth, a sailor’s tale. Arda even has a mythological name for it: ‘halderdingr’. But now they’re a scientifically documented phenomenon, they really exist, you understand? This explains the dozens, hundreds of missing ships. […] “And you know what’s the most fucked up thing about it?” Khan asks slyly. He wipes his diamaterialist glasses and then puts them back on. His almond eyes squint behind the magnifying lenses, filled to the brim with popular science mystique. “The same effect—don’t ask me how, I don’t know—but the same non-linear effect also explains the pale. They use it in entroponetics. This is how the pale behaves when it sweeps over the world.”

Mold

I've heard that in Estonian the word used for Pale is Hall, meaning both frost and mold, like a pale gray film that covers the surface of things. As the Pale takes Vaasa, fruits begin to grow mold. Some people choose to stay rather than leave the disaster zone.

The panic has cooled. In the strange indifference of the evacuation, whole families stay behind in Vaasa. There they play board games, in their houses, in their spacious apartments. They love vitamin-rich food, and when the pale is only a few days away, it’s always signalled by the same beautiful event. Fruits go mouldy. It grows vigorously on them. Children listen to oranges crackling on the table. Spores sprout from the pulp, apples are hairy with it. If you try to touch them, they crack open. No one knows why it’s like that. But few can muster the energy to be afraid of that time, and that’s why I say it’s beautiful.

And later, when Zigi is living in a forest that's been taken by the Pale, even the animals have been consumed by it although they're still alive:

And to the dark forest, to the museum of natural history, where mould grows on the horns of the males and puffs of steam no longer rise from the kids’ nostrils. They still breathe—not oxygen, but pure pale.

Turning into a protein mass

The mother of the missing girls sits in her home, waiting for the pale to take her:

Ann-Margret Lund also sits there somewhere in her kitchen, in the middle of the pale; her rooms are quiet and clean. The former teacher wears a beige jacket and an above-the-knee skirt, and watches the moulding apricots. […] Like everyone else, she can’t do anything in this extended stay, where one’s sense of the present slowly drifts away. But whereas the others dissolve into their memories, she simply disappears. It’s as if her life had never happened. The past is not awaiting her return. She just wanders around the rooms, adjusts her grandmother’s lace doily and bedspreads, arranges the curtains on the rails. And thus, tastefully, she refuses to indulge in those ecstasies which visit the human spirit when the world is disintegrating. Nothing leaves her hands, and nothing returns. When Katla finally sinks into the pale, Ann-Margret Lund turns, without the slightest pleasure, into a protein mass.

Hanging out in the Pale with the ghost of Ignus Nielsen

Years later, as an adult, Zigi has become immune to the effects of the Pale, and even stays in the middle of it in a tent, hanging out with the cytoplasmic spirit of a dead communist.

Human speech sounds out of place in the silence of the pale. It echoes in the gloom of the trees as Zygismunt trudges through the snow. There’s an old trick coined by the great entroponaut K. Voronikin, that you have to shout in the pale. Otherwise, you start to feel gloomy, and the past comes up. But Zygismunt needn’t be afraid of that. When he first entered the pale, he discovered to his great dismay that he couldn’t return like everyone else. Or rather—he could, but not where he really wants. This makes him indispensable to Mazov’s idea. The disappearance of the Lund children has literally given Zigi special entroponetic powers.

He goes hunting for pale-poisoned ibexes. The phrase ‘protein mass’ comes up again. It seems that any human or animal in the pale for long enough eventually turns into a protein mass.

The entroponaut shakes himself. Snow falls from the shoulders of the anorak coat. He goes on alone. An hour of frozen machine tracks and hoofprints in the snow run along in the flashlight beam. And when a herd of ibex finally emerges from the darkness, they are frozen in place in the middle of the road, like an exhibit in a natural history museum. Some of the females sometimes jerk in place, sneezing; this is a nervous impulse, a muscle tremor. The backs of the stuffed animals are already covered with snow, but their snouts are still steaming, they’re still breathing—some for a few days, some for a week. An anorak-clad figure moves through the herd with the indifference of a professional until the beam of his flashlight casts the alpha male’s crown of horns as a shadow on the wall of spruce trees. Zygismunt looks into the animal’s glazed eyes. Its sense of time has broken down. An automaton’s primitive fragment of a brain strays in the pale faster than that of a human. This is how hunters from the outskirts go hunting in the entrokataa. Of course, they’ll eventually go mad from it as well, and one day they won’t return. But not Zigi, he has special abilities. He takes a pocket knife from his belt and slits the protein mass’s throat.

#disco elysium #Püha ja õudne lõhn #sacred and terrible air #the pale #pjõl #de meta #disco elysium lore

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delirious-donna · 2 years

Text

Safe Word [Tokyo Revengers]

an: thank you to the anon that suggested this to me, the ask is here. It felt more than a mere quick thought so it gets a proper post!

prompt: you safe word with your man, how do they react?

feat: Draken, Hanma, Mitsuya & Kazutora (separately x female reader)

warnings: use of a safe word, cervix fucking, mating press, dacryphilia, overstimulation, implied multiple orgasms, pussy eating, no prep, pussy fingering, degradation, fear, manhandling

Masterlist

Draken

The pleasant tingles that had coursed your form had given way to discomfort, the moans you had offered so openly as Draken drilled you into the mattress turned to grunts of distress.

His cock was hitting against your cervix, not a new experience but this time it was far too consistent to be ignored. That sharp sting of pain made you recoil and try to run from him.

Fingernails biting into his biceps and he hissed through his teeth at the sensation but he didn’t realise your state. Too lost in the fog of lust, a fog you had been equally lost in but the mist blew away each time his fat mushroom tip pressed right against the neck of your womb.

You tried to wriggle, to shift the angle or even escape his hold but it was impossible. One thigh pinned to your chest, a thick palm braced at the bend of your knee and the other anchored by your head. Draken growled at your attempts to run from him, still not aware of your pain.

“K-Kenny… s’too much. Stop,” you wailed, tears glossing your eyes and pushing futilely at his toned arms.

He grinned, wolfish and sexy as fuck but it was so hard to appreciate it when you felt like your insides were on fire. He thought you were playing, you knew it when he flashed that grin and rasped, “you can take it, baby. Always take me so well.”

The tears flowed freely now, sobbing at the stinging burn, at how pathetic you felt and how useful you felt at not being able to take him as you usually did.

“Red!”

Draken’s head snapped up, the fan of his loose hair tickling at your cheeks as he stopped moving immediately. His dark eyes searched your face and you looked away, your gaze sinking to the side as you cried harder.

His palm cradled your face, his hand so big that he could touch the entirety of your cheek and sweep away your fast-falling tears with his thumb. Draken looked fearful, his hips drawing back as he pulled his thick length from your drooling pussy.

Sweet relief bloomed in your chest and it only intensified as you were lifted into his arms. Your man was so very gentle with you like he thought you’d break apart in his hold if he squeezed too tight.

He shushed you quietly, cooing like a dove in your ear until your breathing settled and the tears slowed.

“What happened? Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, baby. Talk to me.”

You shook your head, clearing your throat and tucking yourself deeper into the crook of his neck. “Just the angle, you were pressing on my cervix and it hurt. Usually, it’s once or twice and I can handle it but this was every time and I - I couldn’t keep going.”

“I’m so sorry baby. Didn’t mean to hurt you. Can you forgive me?” he pleaded, looking crestfallen and so very guilty.

It clenched your heart. You knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose yet he apologised so profusely that it made you giggle. How silly you were both being. It was simply a bedroom mishap, and that was what your safe word was for.

“Kenny, was an accident. I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” you corrected.

Draken stood from the bed, making you squeak as he carried you like you were nothing more than a feather. Striding with purpose he toed open the door and headed for the bathroom.

“Let’s have a bath and then I’ll rub your shoulders and back. It might have been an accident but I wanna make you feel good in a different way, ‘kay?”

How could you argue with that?

Hanma

Broken and sobbing, it was nothing new to you. How many times Shuji had bent you to his strong will with the practised precision of his wrist? Too many to count.

This was different. This was so fast approaching pain that panic-filled your chest and you hiccuped. Those golden-flecked irises studied your face from between your thighs, they didn’t take your expression at face value. Thinking you to be playing along when in actual fact you were on fire and not in a good way.

The lazy roll of his tongue over your clit sent spears of agony deep into your body, making you tense and of course, he took that for you clenching. Mistaken for want when it was far from it.

You weren't sure what made this time different, you knew well how Shuji got off on overstimulating you. Wringing you for orgasm after orgasm like a wet rag. Only satisfied when he finally let himself see completion within your cunt.

Maybe it was simply too much on this night, your little pussy just exhausted from everything he had given, nerves raw and you wanted to breathe instead of pant.

“Shu - stop, please. Need to breathe…”

He chuckled, spreading you open on his thick fingers and lapping at the remnants of your slick. What you normally enjoyed, his warm wet tongue flicking over your skin was more akin to the rough licks from a cat and you squirmed away.

Your feet digging into his back and using him as leverage to try and free yourself from the grip on your thigh.

“Where you running to, little one, ain’t done yet.” Came the amused reply, and that rough, deep tone ripped through you in the worst possible way.

“Pink!”

The amusement alight in his eyes went dull, face rising from the bed and grip moving away from your limbs enough that you could roll to your side and curl up. Tucking your chin to your chest and wailing like a damn baby.

The bed dipped, Shuji’s warm body settled against your back, curling around you like a protective dragon and his touch on your arm was more gentle than you could ever remember him being in the past.

“Too much?” he asked quietly, and you nodded. Blindly feeling for his arm behind you and winding it over your side and between your breasts.

You clung to his wrist, his palm grazing along your jaw and cheek. He was quiet for a long time, simply allowing you time to let it out and come back to yourself.

There was no judgement, no disappointment that he hadn’t found his own end, only quiet acceptance.

“C’mon babe, let’s get some water and we’ll make something to eat. It’ll help you feel better and you know you can’t trust me in the kitchen alone. I’ll burn the place down.”

Hanma Shuji, a scary badass on the streets, but the sweetest and most patient partner with the one he loved most in the world - you.

Mitsuya

He’d been desperate, so eager and impatient. Shoving you up against the door as soon as he reached you, no hello or welcome home.

Takashi had been away for days, finally arriving home and finding you still at work. He’d had nothing to do but think, to plan exactly how he was going to ravish you.

It hadn’t gone according to plan, too little prep before his thick fingers were attempting to bully past your folds and into your cunt. His lips felt so good on your neck, the heated words whispered did make you melt and my god, you really had missed him, but you needed a bit more attention to warm up.

“Takashi - baby. Please, gotta slow it down.” You whimpered into his shoulder, knees trembling from the swell of desire but it wasn’t building as fast as it could have.

The sting of taking digits into your pussy without adequate prep made you hiss, but he didn’t notice, too focused on feeling you and loving you wholly that he didn’t sense that he was doing the opposite.

It was a rare misstep from Mitsuya, and you knew it wasn’t anything personal. He was consumed by longing, of happiness at being reunited and of total desire for your body.

“Need you sweetheart, wanna feel you around me,” he rasped, sounding very unlike himself. His tone was thick, as if intoxicated and you squirmed in his hold. Stuck fast against the door, wrists held above your head in one tight palm.

You tried again to breach the fog of his lust. “Taka - stop.”

He only grunted, the intrusion of his fingers now biting into you with each short sharp thrust.

“Purple!”

Mitsuya halted, intense lavender eyes looked at you, really looked at you and he didn’t like what he saw. “Shit!” He pulled from your cunt, hand trembling as it extracted from your underwear and quickly let you go.

Takashi stumbled back with wide fearful eyes, such burning guilt seeped out and he was on his knees.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you, baby. Missed you, I was too eager…”

With his face pressed to your stomach, you breathed a little easier now that he wasn’t pinning you to the door. Your fingers swept into his hair and cupped his jaw.

“You stopped, it’s okay. I just needed more warming up. I’ve missed you so much.”

Takashi swallowed his shame, standing again and searing you with a kiss that really did steal your breath. Your eyes fluttered and you melted into his chest.

“Let me show you how much I love you - properly,” he added, tugging you gently towards the bedroom. This was the man you were used to and you were glad he was home.

Kazutora

A bad day. A shit show of a day. The motherfucking worst of all days.

His rage burned him raw, crackled along his veins and he was taking it out on you. The very girl that loved him above all others, accepted him despite his dark past and his mistakes.

Degradation wasn’t new to you, in fact, you liked it but this was too much. Every word he hissed whilst he folded you in half was laced with such potent nastiness that your very soul felt lashed.

“Look at this pussy, slurping around me like a damn slut. Only good for getting pounded, yeah?”

You whimpered, face flying to the side so you didn’t have to watch the way his golden irises flashed so dark and menacing whilst he verbally whipped you.

“Nuh-uh, eyes here.”

His hand curled around your throat, holding you but not squeezing. Waiting for your head to swing back and do as he asked. You did it but were reluctant.

Harsh hips slammed with such force that you rocked, torso drifting further up the bed and it was like you were trying to flee him.

Your pussy was drooling around him, his cock pressing and massaging your sweet spot but you couldn’t enjoy it like you usually did. The harshness of his features, the especially mean words that he hurled at you, held your pleasure at bay.

Attempting to drown out his taunts, to let the physical enjoyment override everything else, you recoiled as he clicked his teeth and slammed his free hand against the headboard hard enough to hear a faint splinter of the wood.

Fear laced your blood, turning it icy in your veins and your heartbeat was so very loud in your ears. “K-Kazutora… please. You’re scaring me.”

But he wasn’t listening, consumed by his own irritation and the sublime feeling of dominating your smaller body that he missed the true panic and terror in your voice.

“Orange! O-orange!”

You were yelling so loud, thrashing so wildly that it took you a moment to realise he had stopped moving. He blinked, the haze of his anger dissipating as he looked down and found you looking back at him with fear. Fingers trembling as they sank into the sheets beneath you.

“Sweetheart - no. Oh god fucking damn - no. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you…” he enthused, pulling from the snug fit of your cunt and hauling you against his chest.

You accepted the affection, happy that your man had returned and no longer feeling any hint of fear. Stroking your back he cooed whilst you let out some held-back tears, the relief was palpable.

“I - I had a bad day. I didn’t mean to take it out on you, you are the best thing in my life. The one that keeps me in the light.”

Kazutora placed you with reverence against the pillows and looked sheepishly at you, fingers twisting until your arms stretched out and he grinned, settling his head on your chest.

“I should be taking care of you, but you’re always taking care of me. Can I - can I talk about it? My day?”

This was the best thing he could offer, an insight into what had unfolded for him and a chance to understand his reactions in tough situations. He stroked lazy patterns on your naked stomach as he spoke and it did wonders to soothe your soul.

“Hey,” you nudged him until he was looking into your face “you know I love you ‘tora?”

“I do and I thank my lucky stars every damn night…”

#delirious writes #draken smut #hanma smut #mitsuya smut #kazutora smut #draken x reader #hanma x reader #mitsuya x reader #kazutora x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader

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sir-fluffbutts · 8 months

Note

who would win:

- muffin vs latte vs chiffon

- kenny vs pepper vs achii

- axo brothers vs fish market

oh this is quite interesting

so considering this is a

- hand to hand combat

- no wepons

- they are fighting in a set fighting ring

----------------------

muffin = latte>>>>>> chiffon

muffin is the strongest of them all physically

but he isn't really...trained to fight, while latte is due to all the police training and such

i think muffin can easily snap lattes wrist (he will never, but hypotheticaly, strangth wise) if he manages to get a firm grip, but if he don't latte will get him in a chokehold

meanwhile latte can chuck chiffon out of the window and call it a day, no questions asked

--------------------

i don't think we give kenny enough cradit for his pure physical strangth

he is trained to be a walking killing machine, a apex predator if you will, he is not a avrage anthro

raised in a harsh enviorment where the current strong enough to fling people across the sharp edged stones and fending off natural praditors ever since he was born is a plus to build him up physically

this mf can claw whole peoples skulls out with only his bare hands, pull out spines and can just...have enough grip strangth to grab a watermelon through its shell

and even without his strangth, he's not slow, quite the opposite

even with peppers effecient way to fight and achii just being generally stronger then avrage anthro/having a sharp bite, placing them against kenny without any wepon is like putting a professional wrestler against a tiger

sure they'll get a few kicks and punches but one proper swipe and its over 😭

so i'd say its kenny >>>>>>>>>> pepper > achii

(really depends, but im just putting pepper in front of achii cause he HAVE won that one time in the lore)

---------------------

only physically? still the same answer

fish market wins cause kenny sweep

#ask #kenny is just not taken very seriously cause he is the “my back hurts cause of my giant whale c*ck” character

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angel-gone-south · 6 months

Text

Razorblade Kiss

Incubus! Kyle w/ Reader

°•. ☾ .•°

You hummed along to the music, happily dancing in the crowd of Crimson Dawn fans. They had been your favorite band for years, fitting a niche of Midwest punk-rock you had never known you needed. You’d been lucky enough to be dormmates (and besties) with the guitarist’s ex, Tammy, who he still owed a couple favors.

Your favorite member by far was Kyle, the bass player. He always had such spunk, it entranced you. You barely even paid attention to the main singer, Stan, much preferring to watch the bassist's ginger curls bounce in his ponytail behind him as he strummed the thick cords of his instrument.

As the song ended, you looked up to see Kyle wiping his sweat-soaked forehead. He glanced your way and you shuddered. His almost electric green eyes pierced you, as if looking into your soul. You calmed down, considering it was probably just him picking a random section near the front. Right?

He smirked as he switched places with Stan, which was unusual. Normally the only one who did that was the drummer, Marjorine. Mostly because she was the only girl, and drums were the only thing Stan could play.

Ah, that made more sense. Everybody had to trade around, Marj taking guitar and Kenny taking the bass so Stan could sit at the drums.

Kyle started to hum as everyone kicked in, and you were utterly entranced by his voice. You felt lucky to hear him vocalize.

“I taste death, in every kiss we share,

Every sundown seems to be the last we have.

Your breath on my skin has the scent of our end,

I’m drunk on your tears, baby can’t you see it’s hurting?”

You started to get queasy. Uncomfortable, even, because this felt directed. The whole song you weren’t dancing, just nervously trying to avoid his gaze when it would sweep over you.

Soon enough their set was over. You’d spent the last few songs utterly uncomfortable, but Tammy still had one surprise left for you.

“Come on! Ken invited us backstage with them.” She grabbed your wrist, tugging you along. You had no time to protest before you stood in front of the dressing room door.

“T-Tammy, I-” Yet again you were cut off, this time by the dusty blonde guitarist opening the door.

“Tammy! You made it! Who’s this?” He beamed, happy to see Tammy. They were still friends, after all.

“My roommate I was telling you about! This is [Name],” You waved, an awkward smile gracing your face as she continued. “They’re your biggest fan.”

“Really? Come on in! I’m sure everyone will be happy to meet you.” You nodded, stepping through the threshold into the suffocating room. You felt a gaze upon you, almost predatory. You looked about, catching the eyes of the man guilty.

Tammy dragged you to sit on the couch next to him, beginning her chat with the other three members as you sat in silence with the ginger. You swallowed thickly, staring at the floor in front of you rather than the man on the opposite end of the couch.

“Boo,” You squeaked when you felt his hot breath hit your ear, cascading down your neck as he chuckled. “Jumpy, are you?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry.” He shook his head, grinning. You noticed his canines were pointy. Some sort of dental cosmetic maybe?

“No need. Kinda cute, if I’m honest,” You took in his face closely for the first time. He took your breath away. “Are you liking what you see?”

His teasing tone snapped you out of your trance, and you turned away with a deep blush. It was then you noticed you and Kyle were alone, now. You wondered where the rest had gone as he spoke again.

“Tammy said I’m your favorite. Is that true?” He leaned ever closer.

“U-Um, yes…” You answered nervously, turning yourself on the couch to more easily face him. He hovered his pale hands above your hips.

“Can I?” You nodded, not trusting your voice to come out as your heart raced. “God, you’re pretty.”

You yelped as he pulled you up to straddle one of his legs, bouncing it slightly and grinning.

“I think you’re the cutest fan we’ve got,” He gave you that same, wolfish grin as he looked your flustered form up and down. “I like how you react to me.”

You whined. Sure, youd had dreams about it before, but you never thought you’d actually get to be in a room with him. His cold hands grazed up your thighs, giving you goosebumps.

“Can I kiss you, sweet thing?” He asked softly, gently pulling you the rest of the way on his lap. You nodded shyly, and he leaned up to lock his lips onto yours.

He tasted of something sweet. You couldn’t put your finger on it. It was like something from a long time ago that you only now remembered, and god, it was good.

You couldn’t describe how kissing him felt. Hot. Passionate, maybe. It all came back to that one word, addictive. You felt like you could do this with him forever, letting his hands slide up your shirt to caress your soft skin while he slipped his tongue gently in your mouth, slowly entangling with yours.

You pulled away for air, panting, a string of saliva and your hands in his curls connecting the two of you. He stared at you, that same cocky look with something behind his eyes. He silently moved his hands again, grabbing softly at your ass, hips and thighs as he buried his face in your neck.

You gasped and mewled, embarrassed as he left marks and kisses across the expanse of your neck and shoulders. You felt dizzy, like something was sapping all of the energy you had left.

He cooed at you as you practically went limp in his arms, moving to lay on the comfortable couch with you on top of him, head on his chest.

You grumbled happily, feeling his warmth and hearing his heartbeat as you drifted off for a quick nap.

°•. ☾ .•°

“D’ya think he’s done yet?” Marj pouted as Kenny reached an arm up the vending machine that stole her dollar.

“Maybe. I’m not gonna be the one to check.” He frowned, grabbing around blindly as his cheek pressed against the glass. Stan laughed and snapped a photo, which even got Tammy giggling.

Kenny made a small noise in triumph as he grabbed a candy bar from one of the slots, but…

“Aw man! I’m fucking stuck!”

°•. ☾ .•°

help i love them.

#➳ Halloween Special 2023♡#south park #south park fanfiction #south park x y/n #south park x reader #south park x you #sp x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle brovlofski x you #kyle brovlofski x reader #sp kyle x reader #sp kyle broflovski #kyle sp #sp kyle #south park kyle #kyle broflovski #kyle x reader

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curtsbigspoon · 2 months

Note

HEADCANON: Ken’s got crushes on EVERYBODY, because you know, he works on their planes all the time, knows them like the back of his hand, and all the guys know that he’s down bad for pretty much every flyboy, so they heap affection on him. They all love their ground crew chief with all their hearts.

OH MY GOD YES! YOU GET IT!

He's honestly like a little wife to all of them, you know. He doesn't get to go on any of the missions but he's always waiting when they get back, immediately at their side, ready to fix their ships to make sure they're safe for the next one.

It's hard for him to see all the men he's got a crush on coming back injured, or missing, or-

Well, he tries not to think on it, tries to be grateful for those he still has.

They worship him, ruffling his hair, swinging their arm around him, pulling him to them. Sometimes the groups will hoist him up if he's done something particularly impressive or tough. He'll beam, flushing from all the attention, from all the contact.

He's like a little puppy dog, following them around when they're out on base, hoping they'll come visit him, tail practically wagging the moment he spots company.

He gets bashful when they compliment his efforts, knowing it's because he tries his best, but still unable to handle people calling him out on his worth because it gets him so flustered.

They have pet names for him, a lot of the boys will be like: "Oh where's my sweetheart?" "Where's my little Kenny?" "C'mere darlin, did you miss me?" Etc etc

It's meant to just be playful, but it has a real reaction on him. He thinks about it when he goes to sleep, feels how his cheeks warm, already planning out what he'll say in return the next time someone says something like that to him. "Honey, welcome home!" The idea of saying that has him pressing his cheek into his pillow, picturing one of the soldiers leaning down, sweeping him up into his arms like a bride.

He groans from the thought, hating himself for how hot it makes him feel inside his clothes, and then-

Anyways, you get the idea!

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lucysarah-c · 18 days

Note

Do you have any plans for a LevixReader longfic that you would like to write about plot-wise (going back to seasons 1 and 4) besides Holy Ground or after you finish Holy Ground?

Hi, dear! How are you?

Oh, that's such a good question! Yes, I do! Actually, I have the first chapter written, but I will post it once I finish 'Holy Ground.' My idea is to finish writing it before even posting the first chapter. It's not going to be as long as 'HG,' no no. 'Holy Ground' is my baby; I planned that story for years, and it's long because I created a whole universe about it haha. Chapters are long, and they are already cut out of plenty of scenes before they get posted. I think that once 'HG' is done, it may be 500k, and that's a lot.

The new fic would only be five chapters; the titles and everything are already decided. Because who am I if not an obsessive controller and planner? The story will be a canon time but AU about what would have happened if Levi, Farlan, and Isabel would have succeeded in killing Erwin, and now they live in the capital city. The title will be 'Suburban Legends,' with one prologue and four chapters. Levi X reader.

I can even give you a sneak peak:

Snow crunching underfoot, cobblestones slippery, skies open and flamingo pink, the screams of newspapers and old brooms sweeping streets. Head down, dark locks dusted with snowflakes, hands in pockets, calloused, tired feet in a worn uniform. Elaborate sighs, eyes glued to the floor, shop owners opening their stores, boulevards closing. A shaking figure paces down the streets, curious eyes following its path as some recognize him.

The ferry wasn't scheduled for its first trip for at least two to three hours more. He needed to pass the time; his meeting with the higher-ups and Historia had lasted until dawn. The early mornings downtown hold a melancholy that deeply affects him. As he reaches a small plaza, his sigh rises and he admires the view. Sheena's Wall exhales an air of foreignness he can't comprehend, like visiting an ex's house - familiar yet tinged with unease and foreignness. A place once called his own, now recalled with flashbacks of bad dreams.

The overwhelming desire to be alone consumes him, perhaps hidden in a forest outside the walls where nobody could see or expect him. Unusual for him, but he feels on the verge of tears. What could be the reason? The stress of the Wall Maria retake expedition? Erwin's unwavering determination and wavering intentions? The reasons he joined the scouts now disturbed like a distorted dream? Kenny? The kids from the underground reminding him of his own and, once again, Kenny? His mother?

Desolation and doubts cloud his mind; the streets teem with strangers, and the wash of loneliness shivers his body in a way it hasn't before. He can almost believe that at 31, he wishes Kenny were around again, to guide him, to ask him questions, to show him the way. Joining the scouts seven years ago, knowing more at 24 than at 31. Pacing the streets like an abandoned dog, wondering where to return, never thinking they'd one day be left to fend for themselves in the empty fields, seeking civilization by the scent of food and the hope of love.

Thank you for passing by! I can't help but wonder what made you want to ask that question! Feel free to return haha.

Have a lovely day/night!

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