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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
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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