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Lucario's Legacy part 9Lucario scavenged for hours, looking for branches and sticks which will be used to build his simple home again. This was difficult as a large amount of trees had burned down during the night. The sun glared down on the ash-covered ground, with the little breeze there was stirring it up into the air. Lucario put down the bundle of sticks, sat down on a charred log and wiped the sweat off his forehead. It was a hot day. A lapse of grief hit him and he closed his eyes, remembering other Pokemon's houses burning down; they were happy to have a roof over their head, a place better than a hole in the ground to brave the weather, and to keep the little Pokemon safer as well. He remembered seeing the injured, how scarred they were, not only physically, but mentally as they would have been the ones who made it, but had lost so many others. He remembered hearing the screams of others, calling out for help. Calling out...for him. The leader. The one who protected the town. The one who removed cri
Lucario's Legacy part 8Lucario made his way to into town. Everywhere he looked, Pokemon stared at him with angry, judging eyes. They whispered to each other.
''Some leader. Just ran off and did nothing.''
''He left us to die.''
''Leader? All he did was win a contest!''
Lucario closed his eyes and kept walking, ignoring the hurtful comments that he heard all too well. He stepped onto the stone dais. Surprisingly it was still standing after the horrific inferno last night. The Pokemon stared at him, grumbling.
''Everyone!'' Lucario yelled.
They went quiet. He struggled to find the right words.
''I...wasn't living up to the town's standards. To my standards. I put those closest to me first, without thinking about the pain and the suffering of o-others and their families.''
The crowd muttered, a mixture of emotions, mostly understanding, grief and anger.
''So...I'm... I'm resigning from being leader,'' Lucario announced.
As if to prove this, he snatched off his red scarf and threw it to the f
Genghis Whenever we were bad my mother used to take us to the mall to see Genghis Kahn. They kept him in a dusty diorama of a Mongolian steppe, all tall grass and yurts. He sat on a throne of bone (well, plastic shaped like bone), scowling in incomprehension at the American kids who flocked around him like startled lemmings. My mother would usually push us toward him, saying things like “Tell him what you did to your father’s stamp collection.” Genghis would give a grunt, spit a wad of phlegm onto the tall grass, and give us a wizened, wrinkled grimace, as if he had to go to the bathroom.
He terrified me.
My brother couldn’t get enough of him.
When my brother got caught in my mother’s evening dress, my mother grabbed us both and dragged us to Genghis. It was a slow day, and we were the only kids crowding him. “Tell him what you did,” my mother hissed a
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More