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Proffesor Sycamore X Reader (Part 1)
You sprang out of bed before the crack of dawn; You really couldn’t sleep. You were too excited about the mission of completing the Pokedex, who was picked with a small group of children in your town. You got your suitcase out from the closet and layed it down on the floor. “_______! Come down here and get your breakfast before you start packing!” said your Mother. As you turned, a fletchling flew up near you and called out it’s familiar song. You smiled and walked downstairs to find a plate of syrup-covered waffles on the table. As you reached the end of the stairs to the main floor, your mother hugged you tightly, saying, “Are you excited? It’s not everyday professors pick someone for a mission, especially a young girl like you.” Another burst of excitement filled you to the brim. It was only a couple days ago you celebrated your 18th birthday, so this mission was just like a late present. The happiness stayed inside you as you ate your break
Lysandre X Reader- Shattered Dreams
That was it.
You defeated Team Flare, saved the world from ending, and caught the Legendary Pokémon in the Kalos Region. That was it. You could hear the praise from the parade that Professor Sycamore made for you and your friends. There were cameras everywhere. Popularity. You had become popular because you saved the day. The day that you crushed a simple man’s dream to make the world beautiful again. A man’s dream to fix the world that had become corrupted. Maybe he didn’t know better. Lysandre wanted to fix it, and you simply stood in his way. Took everything he treasured, a simple blow and the candle went out.
How could you do that?
All Lysandre wanted was a beautiful world again. He was honest, he never kept a secret. He always led you where you needed, no matter what situation you were in. It started to break your heart a little bit. How? This man wasen’t evil, just led somewhere were people don’t accept the ideas. You do remember hearing the Pro
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
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