Silent--Protagonist

"Skarmory can't lay eggs," Steven argued. This obstinate response caused Winona to frown at him and then down at the large gray Pokemon egg cradled in her arms. "Oh, but of course they can," she told him, rubbing the thin shell with her hand, as if comforting it from Steven's hurtful denial of its existence. "They're birds, for one. And almost all Pokemon except genderless ones can lay eggs. Did you fail Pokemon biology in college?" Winona glanced up and gave him "the look"—the same disgruntled look that she'd given him during childhood when he'd lost a drawing she'd made, during high school when he'd dumped her best friend, and during

"Skarmory can't lay eggs," Steven argued. This obstinate response caused Winona to frown at him and then down at the large gray Pokemon egg cradled in her arms. "Oh, but of course they can," she told him, rubbing the thin shell with her hand, as if comforting it from Steven's hurtful denial of its existence. "They're birds, for one. And almost all Pokemon except genderless ones can lay eggs. Did you fail Pokemon biology in college?" Winona glanced up and gave him "the look"—the same disgruntled look that she'd given him during childhood when he'd lost a drawing she'd made, during high school when he'd dumped her best friend, and during

She was the most beautiful person in town, and that made him wonder how he'd gotten so lucky with her. She literally could have had any other man that fancied her—every single one his age was after her, anyway. Her dating pool had not been small, and her choices broad. Back before he took a deep interest in her, she'd been wooed by an engineer, a billionaire that spoke fourteen languages, and a senator, to name but a few. Men in power craved her stunning figure and her lighthearted attitude, for they desired a lusty wife who was still pure enough not to stray. She fit that bill perfectly—yet she did not pursue their courting. Inste

Between the glimpse of lonely feathers, Airborne to strike out from its tethers, Stands the final mountain of courage Between the hero and his rival. Stifle the tension between the studious Boys; Ice and fire collide in a furious Snap of frozen flame—one is too cold, But the hero is consumed in the heat. They reflect, the most colorful of mirrors, Red and green with passion and tremors Of wars driven into the bloody past, For the past does not become a hero. The hero instead becomes his angry past, And the rival not far ahead, shifting fast Into the unmistakable chains of nemeses, Clawing with his raging, lonely feathers. Bound as

I believed there would be an end to this at some point, but I didn't think it would come this quickly. Everything is wrong in this place—corrupt, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike an unsuspecting victim with its sinful guise. After all, this is a sinister organization, so it is only fitting that sinister secrets follow the leaders of genocide and their willing participants. We are all fools here—if I blamed only Cyrus, then I would be blindly at fault. I'd be alluding that I lived without flaw. But Dawn—she is a fool as well. She is melodramatic, obsequious, and somewhat stupid. She might have been perceptive and the m

Okay, Karen thought absently as she fumbled with the hem of Lance's cape. Calm the hell down, Karen. This wasn't your fault. Lance's fat ass was standing in the way, that's all. It was Will who brought the dumb stray home, anyway. Don't get angry. It'll just make things worse. "You're a stupid bitch and this is all your fault," Lance intoned in the deep masculine voice that was out of place for the body he was currently inhabiting, his hands still on Karen's breasts. … Do. Not. Get. Angry. Whirling around, Karen slammed one incredibly large hand—at least two sizes larger than the one she'd lived with her entire life—on the e

Volkner The next day "Well, did you tell him that bugged you?" "You're a stupid cunt, Jasmine. Why would I do that?" "Because he might actually listen for once?" I scoffed. Yeah, Flint, listening. And Digletts could fly up my ass. "Jas, has Flint ever sat down and had a decent two-way conversation with you in the entire time that you've been friends? Give me an honest answer here." Leaning back in her chair, Jasmine tipped back dangerously on the back legs and wobbled there, keeping her balance as she crossed her arms over her chest and collected her wits with a sigh. Internally, I cringed. That hapless action was a very Flint-esque one

Dear Delicious, Youthful Trainer, Your adorable, childlike face incites only the most vibrant of passions within me. I long to see your affable brown eyes glimmering in my direction as I enter with a sweep of my heroic cape. I imagine your lips, plump and red with the swollen desire to kiss me, puckering and coming toward me and planting themselves on my skin. Oh, the very thought of you refuting your so-called "top-percentage" Ratatta for my mature loving excites me in ways that no one else can. I look forward to seeing you and your delightfully molestable body. Love, Your Masculine Slave Dear Dumbass, You tried to rape me already. Don