I have achieved Nirvana. I believe I may have reached a higher plane of existence from reading this story of majestic, heterosexual action and drama. My live has been changed for the better.
10/10 would read again.
I have achieved Nirvana. I believe I may have reached a higher plane of existence from reading this story of majestic, heterosexual action and drama. My live has been changed for the better.
10/10 would read again.
Haha, that's so hilarious and FABULOUS!
Oh my god... so many replies! I feel super, super loved, and I feel bad because there's so many I can't really fit quoted responses for each one into this post, but that's a seriously awesome problem to have. Even though I can't put quotes, I feel like if you had the time to review it I should have the time to respond, so here goes:
Alright, it's 12 AM, which means... HALLOWEEN! MUAHAHAHA. So, now for something very different. Chapter 4 has been delayed, that's the bad news, and I apologize. The good news is that it's been delayed because I decided to try something a little different and do a LYSANDRE HOLIDAY SPECIAL~! That's right, I've got a special Halloween chapter just for you, my beautiful readers. It's not in the time of the story, is over twice as long as a usual chapter, and is structured/written a bit differently, because it is a SPECIAL after all! I was pleased with it and think it should be a nice little bit of fanservice for Lysandre/evil team fans, but if you don't like this approach, don't worry, I'll go back to 6-page normally written shopping adventures where Chapter 3 left off after this one.
First, I need to give a shoutout to my IRL friend GastlyGibus. He's an awesome fanfic writer in his own right (go check out "It's Electric" on the fanfic board) and helped me come up with costumes for the characters in this and with a few of the jokes all throughout this chapter. So yeah, he's boss. *thumbsup*
Happy Halloween, I'd love to give you all candy when you come to my dorm room door but you don't live here, so just print this out and put it in your candy buckets and we'll call it even.
CHAPTER 666: LYSANDRE'S HORRIFYINGLY HETEROSEXUAL HALLOWEEN HOUSE PARTY:
The Halloween sun was still hours away from rising over the Halloween horizon, but Lysandre was already up and at it like Sycamore’s genitalia at a Diantha concert. Deadmau5 was blaring over the surround sound system in his town house’s man-kitchen as Lysandre pranced heterosexually about in his frilly orange “KISS THE BOSS OF TEAM FLARE” apron, singing along to Professional Griefers in his usual operatic, manly fashion:
“MEW CAN’T HEAR YOU,
ZAPDOS WON'T FIGHT YOU,
WATCH THEM BUILD A TEAM JUST LIKE YOU,
FAIRY TYPES IN XYZ,
DRAGON TYPE IMMUNITY!
GIVE ME THE SOUUUUUND TO SEEEEEE
A BE-AU-TI-FUL WORLD THAT’S FULL OF
ALL THE MANLY THIIIIIINGS THAT I MAAAAAAADE
JUST GIVE ME A LIIIIIFE TO BLEEEEEEED
A BRAND NEW PERFECT WORLD THAT’S FULL OF—”
“BOSS DUDE!” Malva shouted, racing into the kitchen faster than Professor Oak racing into Ash’s mom’s bedroom.
“Goddamn it, Malva, I’m trying to warm up for karaoke!” Lysandre shouted, angrily straightening his apron. “You know how serious Cyrus gets about Mr. Roboto, that cunt. Did you finish the balloons?”
“Ohhhh yesss,” Malva moaned, pressing her body against Lysandre’s back and running a leather-clad finger sensually down his chest, “I blew them all reaaaally good… blowing each one gently with my sensual burgundy lips wrapped around their nozzles, making them get longer, and firmer with my warm moist breath… tell me, you naughty, naughty rich boy, do you think there’s anything else in this room I could blow—”
“Goddamn it, Malva,” Lysandre yelled, shoving her aside and realizing in panic that the cookies had baked three seconds two long, “I don’t want your autobiography, I’m trying to bake cookies here.”
“…wow, you really are gay. Yes, the balloons are done, you cunt. Can I leave now?”
Lysandre turned and glared at her with his Espurr-like, unblinking, sexually intriguing red gaze. “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”
Malva snort-laughed. “Lysandre, did you just quote a fucking Eagles s—”
“Silence, woman!” he exploded, tossing an oven mitt at her. “Get these cookies out while I get the spiderwebs put up! Everything has to be PERFECT for our guests tonight.”
“Guests? Oh, fuck, I thought the balloons were just for…” her face drooped like Sycamore’s genitalia after he found out backstage at the concert that Diantha was secretly a man. “Oh no. Oh Arceus no. Y-you don’t mean you’re having a—”
“You’re goddamned right.”
“Hello, Morey!” Lysandre’s apron-clad blue holographic figure ejaculated forth from the holocaster’s steel mantube and majestically in the air over Sycamore’s mattress, like Obi Wan’s hologram in the first Star Wars if Obi Wan’s hologram was actually an ambiguously straight ginger man in a lacy apron floating over Sycamore’s mattress.
Sycamore rose groggily in his bed and dug his Holocaster out from under his pillow, tossing his arousingly tousled curly locks out of his deep blue eyes enough to see. “Goddamn it, Sandy, it’s so early you could still evolve an Umbreon outside. What do you want?”
“Oh wow, it is early, isn’t it? Why are you up so early, anyway? Are you hiding something?”
“I’m up so early because my inconsiderate rich friend just CALLED ME ON THE MOTHERFUCKING HOLOCASTER. WHAT. DO. YOU. WANT?”
“I want to invite you to the greatest thing you’ll ever go to in your entire goddamned motherfucking life.”
Sycamore jumped up and down on the bed like a little girl about to go to Disney World to meet Mickey Mouse, if Mickey Mouse wasn’t really just a failed theatre major in a semen-stained fursuit. “Is it Diantha’s next concert?”
Sycamore’s eyes narrowed as a snarky grin crept across his delicious face. “Is it Malva’s strip show?”
“…n-no… okay, fine, the THIRD greatest thing you’ll ever go to in your entire goddamned motherfucking life. It’s…” he paused for emphasis and to throw confetti in the air that he had been inexplicably saving in his apron pocket for this very purpose. “…my HALLOWEEN PARTY!”
Sycamore’s face turned unenthusiastic as he rolled out of his bed and threw on the red robe that Lysandre had given him for Christmas last year with a Team Flare logo in the back that had been very professionally X-ed out in Sharpie. “Lysandre, Halloween is TODAY. A little late to be inviting people to a Halloween Party, isn’t it!?”
“Well EXCUUUUUSE me, Princess,” Lysandre replied. “First you say I’m calling you too early, then you say I’m calling you too late. And you say I’M the inconsiderate one in this relationship! Not that it’s a RELATIONSHIP relationship, of course. It’s a friendship relationship, between two straight friends, neither of whom is secretly the boss of—”
“Goddamn it Lysandre, I get your point. Is there alcohol?”
“You’re kidding, right? You know I can’t hold my liquor, remember that one night at Tojoh Falls, when Gi—”
“Oh god. You’re right. No alcohol, please. Well I’d definitely like to go, but I don’t have a costume yet, so—”
Lysandre’s mouth dropped curiously open. “…costume?”
“…yes, Lysandre. Like people wear. On Halloween.”
“...people wear costumes on Halloween?”
“Yes! Where the fuck have you been every single Halloween ever?”
Lysandre walked solemnly to the stereo and switched it from Electric Area on Sirius XM to the Sad Violin Riffs Channel. “My parents didn’t let me celebrate Halloween,” he began, closing his burning red eyes slowly and dramatically. “They were always afraid to let me go knock on people’s doors for candy, out of some unfounded fear that I’d get a lollipop dipped in acid or something like that. I told them they were fucking stupid and talked them into letting me go trick or treating when I was thirteen, but I don’t remember anything from it because I really did get a lollipop dipped in acid and then woke up in one of the empty kiddie pools outside of Walmart.”
“Surrounded by Porygon.” As he finished his tale, he wiped a single manly tear from his eye. “And so, I… I never learned the true meaning of Halloween. And I still get disconcertingly aroused whenever I see a Porygon. Oh god, did I say that last part out loud?”
“…why did I even ask,” Sycamore sighed. “Yes, Lysandre. It’s common knowledge to wear a costume on Halloween, so everyone’s going to show up in one. If you don’t have one, you’ll look really stupid.”
Lysandre’s heart dropped faster than Microsoft’s stocks after the XBONE reveal. “…I’m going to have to go to a poor person store, aren’t I?” he whispered, his hushed tone reflecting the silent tendrils of fear clenching his soul.
“Yes. Yes you are.”
“Yes, Lysandre,” Sycamore sighed, slipping on the Pyroar slippers Lysandre had given him last Easter, again with a Team Flare logo X-ed out in the back in sharpie. “I will go too.”
“So this is a poor person store?” Lysandre asked as they approached the overdecorated glass exterior of Party City. Images advertising a variety of costumes for women were hung seductively across the wall of windows, featuring costumes such as Sexy Nurse Joy, Sexy Officer Jenny, Sexy Sylveon, Sexy Nosepass, Sexy 3DS, Sexy 3DS XL (for the curvier ladies among us), Sexy 2DS (for the Ash Ketchum physique ladies among us), and Sexy Mr. Fuji (for… I have no fucking idea).
“I guess that’s one way to put it,” Sycamore replied. See, here comes a poor family right now. They’re not so scary, right? Go ahead, go say hello.”
Lysandre firmly squeezed Sycamore’s left hand in terror.
“OUCH! Goddamn it, Lysandre, that’s not my fucking hand! Let go! I’m going sterile!”
Lysandre firmly squeezed Sycamore’s other left hand in terror.
“Lysandre,” Sycamore continued after catching his breath and grabbing his lower, throbbing and hopefully not sterile ‘left hand,’ “this is really no big deal. Rich people go to poor person shops all the time. Trust me, there’s nothing to be afraid of. They won’t bite.”
“ROAR, I’M GONNA BITE YOU” a boy in a Mighteyena mask shouted as he jumped out of the front door at Lysandre, who screamed hysterically and proceeded to throw the boy to the ground and kick the ever-loving shit out of him until his parents grabbed him and ran screaming out of the parking lot dialing 9-1-1. “I told you they bite,” Lysandre told Sycamore vindicatedly.
Maybe taking Lysandre shopping this time of year was a bad idea.
“Well,” Sycamore said, stepping inside with his sleek, well-toned legs (not that Lysandre noticed his incredibly shapely legs teasingly revealed each time the labcoat shifted a bit or anything), “there are aisles and aisles of stuff. Just look around until you find something that’s suitably manly and fabulous.”
Lysandre wandered cautiously up and down the aisles of terrifying apparel and overpriced party favors, thoroughly unimpressed with the selection.
“Lysandre! Over here, buddy!”
Lysandre turned, and—
“Ghetty!” Lysandre shouted, rushing at his old friend and embracing his bulging, muscle-shirt clad, Old Spice-flavored body in the most heterosexual manner possible. “It’s been so long! What are you doing here?”
“I should ask you the same thing!” Ghetsis replied, chuckling and patting Lysandre heartily on his broad, masculine back. “I never expected to see you at a poor person store. I’m here to find a costume for your party. It’d be easier if I wasn’t having to babysit this little brat.”
“Babysitting? Little!?,” N snapped. “I’m twenty. TWEN-TY.”
“Hahaha, aren’t they precious at this age? Remind me to take you by Hair Cuttery on the way back, Nat, your hair is getting too damn long, the gays from the liberal media are gonna start trying to convert you. Hah, oh, Sandy, you know how kids get at this age, they get all hippy and start hugging trees, protesting for Pokemon rights, fucking random people on ferris wheels… all that liberal bullshit. He tried to bring a legendary Pokemon home the other day, ended up destroying the whole castle. He’s like, ‘Pokemon are people too, dad!’ I keep expecting to find Gardevoir smut under his mattress. That boy ain’t right, I tell you what.”
“I’m right here, you realize,” N said.
“I know the feeling, Ghetty,” Lysandre replied, remembering the time Xerosic’s Eevee peed on the floor one time. “Fuck interns.” Xerosic wasn’t an intern, but still, fuck interns.
“Alright, Lysandre, see you tonight. Have you found a costume yet?”
“No, I keep trying to find where they keep them in this place. There’s just aisle after aisle of poor person clothes. No wonder normal poor people are so goddamn ugly, these outfits are horrendous.”
“…Lysandre, those ARE the costumes. This is a party store.”
“What? Then why are poor people so goddamned ugly!?”
“A mystery for the ages, Lysandre. Good luck with your costume!” With this, Ghetsis swaggered away, using N’s hair like a leash to drag him along behind while he shrieked in pain and shouted some nonsense about a restraining order being broken or something.
Sycamore finally caught up with Lysandre. “Alright,” Sycamore squealed, skipping heterosexually in circles around him, “I’ve got my costume! But don’t you dare ask to see it yet; it’s a surprise for your party. Who was that?”
“Oh, that dangerously attractive older man? He was just my friend Ghetsis,” Lysandre replied. “Also, I didn’t say that first part out loud, didn’t I?”
Sycamore’s face looked like the face of someone who had just been told that their best friend is friends with a criminal overlord. “W-w-b-but isn’t he the leader of Team Plasma!?”
“Yeah, isn’t that great? But he started that path super early, in fact, I knew him back when he was just starting law school.”
“So he’s one of those guys that’s not so bad once you get to know them, then?”
“Nah, he’s a dick.”
“Welcome!” Lysandre shouted, proudly throwing open the door to his quant little 10,000sqft townhouse. He was dressed in a costume of Mufasa from the Pyroar King, because he was the motherfucking king of the corporate jungle, bitches. “Who are you again?”
“What?” the man at the door laughed. “It’s me, Giovanni, bitch!”
“Did you get older/sexier since I last saw you?” Lysandre asked as he took Giovanni’s soft, lilac-scented fingers in his own strong, loving, heterosexual grasp and guided him sensually through the doorway.
“No, don’tcha get it? I’m dressed as Professor Oak! Are you a boy or a girl? What’s my grandson’s name? Oh, I remember, his name is Cuntface! Bahahaha!”
“Well, that’s a fabulous costume, and a great impersonation,” Lysandre said, reluctantly letting go of his hand and guiding him to the food room. “I hope you have a fantastic time, Giovanni!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Giovanni said sinisterly to himself as he pulled a bottle of whiskey from under his labcoat and poured it into the punch. “I WILL.”
“Alright, everyone,” Lysandre shouted, leaping on top of his couch, “it’s finally dark outside, and you know what means!”
“Malva’s strip show?” Butch shouted.
“Xerosic’s strip show?” Cassidy squealed.
“Spin the Silph Scope?” Lt. Surge chortled, pulling Erika close to him as she pondered the best angle to castrate him.
“No,” Lysandre said, “but good guesses. It’s… KARAOKE TIME!”
Upon this cue, a naked grey-haired man in bright red lipstick hopped in on a black inflatable hopper ball and stopped directly in front of Lysandre, glaring with his soulless eyes deep into his soul and laughing maniacally.
“Cyrus!? Wh-what are you doing here!?” Lysandre asked nervously.
“I came in like a wrecking ball,” Cyrus replied, rising from the hopper ball which, thankfully, was secured around his neck with a chain to continue to let it function as a convenient censor bar. “What’s the matter, Sandy boy? Not ready for the best of both worlds? You can’t have your karaoke and avoid me, too. It’s time to take the climb, it’s time to party in the USA. Everybody makes mistakes, and by everybody, I mean you, because I’m fucking perfect. Let me put this in terms your tiny little ginger brain can understand--I’m here to one-up you at karaoke and kick some ass, and I’m all out of ass.”
“Oooooh,” the room said in unison. The rivalry between Cyrus and Lysandre was legendary among the villain community, especially after that one night at the Tojoh falls barbeque when Giovanni showed up halfway through and—
“You’re on, old man,” Lysandre yelled, ripping off his Mufasa costume to reveal a perfect Michael Jackson from Thriller outfit. “Malva, hand me the microphone. No, that’s your vibrator, the microphone. No, that’s Xerosics vib—there we go.”
“What’s the matter, Sandy?” Cyrus asked, smacking his shining, wonderfully spherical buttcheeks at Lysandre tauntingly. Afraid to go after me?”
“Hah! As if I’d ever be intimidated by a man who’s twice my size, twice as muscular, looks better in a speedo and has the voice of an angel,” Lysandre scoffed. “Goddamn it, I gotta’ stop saying my afterthoughts out loud. But no, I’ll kick your ass to the Distortion World.” He tossed Cyrus the microphone, and the crowd grew hushed as Malva (dressed as a Sexy 3DS, of course) pushed a button and a disco ball lowered from the ceiling and began spinning, club lights emerged from inside the cabinets of the foyer, and a large karaoke screen descended from the wall. “MR ROBOTO – ORIGINALLY PERFORMED BY STEELIX” displayed on the screen as Cyrus began to sway to the music. The crowd was entranced already by his confidence, muscles and fine ass. Lysandre knew he was in trouble.
Things went amazingly well as Cyrus used his booming, chocolatey voice to nail every note, but once he started rewriting the second verse to match his Team Galactic conquests, the crowd went crazy.
“I am a robot without emotions-I'm just what you see
I've come to help you rebuild our world, so we can be free
I am your hero, I am your saviour, I am God, you know
I'm more than a man, and what I seek is total control
You’re in my control-we all need control
I need control-we all need control”
The whole thing was sickening to Lysandre. He had been one upped as a sex symbol, a singer, a performer, and now as a megalomaniacal maniac. When his song came to a close, Cyrus fell to his knees and gave the “rock on” gesture as the crowd went absolutely mad.
“Fine then,” Lysandre said, swiping the microphone from him, “let’s see how you like THIS!” The screen displayed “What a Wonderful World” as the crowd murmured amongst themselves. Lysandre cleared his throat and began, two octives too deep and off key,
“I SEE TREEEEES OF GREEEEEN, ROSELIAS TOOOOOO, CORPSES OF BITCHESSSSS, CORPSES OF YOUUUUU, AND I THINK TO MYSELF, THIS IS MY PERFECT WOR—”
“I’M GONNA COLLECT IT!” Lawrence III shouted, bursting through the screen/wall from the room behind them, wearing a Wreck it Ralph costume and very obviously intoxicated. He ran up to Lysandre and grabbed the microphone, jamming it down his pants, then stole Pyroar’s Pokeball and did the same.
“STOP! THIEF!” Lysandre shouted.
“I’m not a… a… a feef,” Lawrence said, stumbling to stay upright, “I’m a… I’m merely an erector. Uh, collector.”
“Oh my god,” Lysandre said, “Lawrence, are you hammered!? But there’s no alco—”
Archie, who was now wearing Maxie’s clothes (and vice versa), pried himself loose from passionately making out with Maxie and said “Are you kidding? We’ve been drunking all morning! That punch is some GOOD SHIT!”
Cyrus grabbed Lysandre by his jumpsuit’s collar and pulled him close in the least arousing way possible. “Lysandre, you said the punch wasn’t spiked!”
“Well, it, it it wasn’t!” Lysandre said. “Someone else must have done it!”
“Wait… I’ve had ten cups, that… that means…” Cyrus suddenly realized what was happening and felt very, very woozy. “I… fuck you, Lllllysandre.” He said, falling onto the couch.
“ARTIZADO IS MIND!” Lawrence shouted, removing Cyrus’ wrecking ball from its chain and running off with it, giving the shocked audience a good view of Cyrus’ other two wrecking balls.
Soon, the whole room was realizing how motherfucking SHITFACED they actually were, and all became chaos. Xerosic leapt on the table, ripped off his pants, and began singing Baby Got Back. Cyrus began pelvic thrusting across the room, screaming “I CAME ON YOU WITH MY WREEEECKING BALLS” as random Grunts and Admins in the crowd ran from his imminently approaching genitalia, screaming bloody murder. Ghetsis, who was dressed as Frollo, decided that he actually was Frollo and grabbed N (who he had forced to dress up as Quasimodo), shouting “DOWN THE WELL WITH YOU” and shoving him in Lysandre’s fireplace, then jabbing him repeatedly in the ass with the fireplace poker while singing Hellfire.
Lysandre knew that somebody was trying to take advantage of people at this party, and it made him really fucking mad. Who had polished the disco ball? Who had braved the poor person store and defeated the were-child? Who had endured Malva’s inappropriate sexual comments and kept her raging heterosexual libido from endangering the cookies’ proper baking time? Lysandre, that’s fucking who, and he wasn’t about to let one of his guests ruin this party. He was going to track them down and make them run out of usable Pokemon, white out, hurry to the nearest Pokemon Center and then PAY. Except… he was starting to get kind of buzzed himself.
Lysandre leaned against his refrigerator and called Sycamore on the Holocaster. “Professessessor Elm,” he slurred, “where—where are you? I’m, uh… I’m… I’m at the party, and there’s a buzz in the punch, and somebody toxic spikesed the alcohol, and I… I need detective work but Looker wasn’t invited, because he’s a cunt.”
“I’m on the way, Lysandre. What’s wrong with you? You haven’t been drinking, have you!?”
“That’s what I’m telling to try you, you fucking cunt,” Lysandre calmly explained, “one of the bad people punched the spikes, and now… now…”
“Yeah, I can hear from the background noise. That’s a bad situation. I’ll be right over to help. I’m bringing Valerie, by the way. I explained to her that you were just joking about us being in a relationship because of all the stupid fanfics on the internet and that we really are just friends, and I and she are cool again now.” He leaned into the holocaster and whispered loud enough for Lysandre to hear but soft enough that Valerie wouldn’t, “I might even see what’s on the other side of that Sylveon-print!”
“Now, Lysandre,” Lysandre said, “you have to be careful what you read on the interwebsites. Having sex with Silverons is Pokestiality, and that’s illegal, no matter what you read in print or otherwise. If you want some action, Malva should be here I think, though she turned into a 3DS right now, and she’ll do anything that moves. Except for me. No, Archie! Maxie! Get down! Not on the couch, goddamn it! You’ll stain the velvet! You cunts!”
“You really do need help,” Sycamore sighed, “and I mean that in more ways than one. We’re in the driveway. Be right in. Don’t do anything stupid.”
Sycamore and Valerie majestically entered the door as triumphic music played (in their heads at least). Sycamore was dressed in drag in a hilariously overdone parody of Malva’s on-Holocaster costume, and Valerie was dressed as Sexy Sylveon, because she wasn’t very creative (but she was pretty damn hot). “Morey,” Sycamore called, “where are you?”
“I’m up in the upstairs stairs up,” he shouted. “Hiding from the madnesssssssss.”
“You stay here,” he told Valerie, who nodded her sexy little Sylveon ears affirmatively. “Be right up!”
He entered Lysandre’s room and quickly slammed the door behind him. “Lysandre, this is chaos. First things first, we need to get out of here and call an Officer Jenny, or we might not make it out of here in one piece. That Cyrus guy was giving me ‘the eye’ down there.”
“Malva!” Lysandre shouted, just hammered enough to think that Sycamore was actually Malva. “I’m so so so sorry that I told you I didn’t give the cookies a blowjob. I was stressed because video killed the radio star, but now if you want to fuck my balloon, I love you.” Lysandre proceeded to grab Sycamore’s fine, leather-clad drag queen ass and draw him into a forcefully passionate kiss of the most heterosexual variety possible, as he froze in place, shocked and hoping that nobody would see and draw fanart of it.
“OH MY GOD!” Valerie shouted, running it at that very moment to check on things. “I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU TWO WERE LOVERS!” She wept uncontrollably and ran about erratically in tears like that one stupid chick in Sense and Sensibility and ended up tripping over Lysandre’s plush Pyroar in the floor and falling out the window.
Lysandre threw his wallet out the window. “That’s for whatever costs dead poor… poor… poor people have to buy,” he slurred. She had fallen safely in a bush on the balcony, but the massive falling wallet knocked her out of the bush, and, uh… down. “Now, Malva, where we were?”
“I’m Sycamore,” Sycamore said.
“…that’s hot,” Lysandre said. “I mean, ew. Let’s go stairs.” Sycamore helped Lysandre stumble down the stairs as he drunkenly sang Another Auld Lang Syne, and when they got to the bottom they found Giovanni on the couch, totally sober in his Oak costume, surrounded by a harem of drunken villainesses.
“Giovanni!” Lysandre shouted. “The Jigglypuff is up! I’m… I’m on to your seams!”
Giovanni laughed maniacally as he petted Cassidy’s head with his left hand and petted Domino’s, um… petted Domino with his right hand. “What’s the matter, bitch? This is an ancient technique practiced by douchebag frat guys in Unova… get the babes drunk, stay sober, and reap the rewards! You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first, bitch! Haha!”
“Giovanni would never do this,” Sycamore said, raising his fist as heroically as a pretty-boy in drag can raise his fist. “He’s a respected gym leader! He would never do anything bad like that!”
“Hahahaha! Hasn’t your friend Lysandre told you anything? Look around the room, Professor DICKamore. Who do you see? Not the upstanding citizens of the Pokemon world, that’s for sure! This is a villain party, hosted by the biggest villain of them all!”
“Lysandre…?” Sycamore asked, stricken. “Is this… is this true? Are you a villain? What are you?”
“BAHAHA!!!” Giovanni laughed, “you fool! Don’t you know that your friend is secretly the b—”
“Please,” Lysandre pleaded, now on his knees clinging to Giovanni’s meaty, curvaceous legs. “I thought we were friends, Gigi! Remember that hot night at Tojoh falls, when, uh… I forget? Remember when we gave that stupid Ash kid a wedgie, and dropped water balloons on people from the top of the Silph Co building in the middle of a blizzard!? Please, Giovanni… Sycamore is the only friend I have closer than you! He can’t know! He can’t!”
“Can’t know what!?” Sycamore screamed. “What the fuck is going on!?”
“Can’t know,” Giovanni said, “that Lysandre is the boss of Team—”
Suddenly, trumpets sounded outside as everyone turned to face the (open for some reason) front door. A line of Team Rocket grunts on each side played a majestic fanfare as a man dressed as Giovanni paraded up the stairs. “Hey, where’s Sandy? Tell him I’m sorry I’m late, and I dig the dead Sylveon girl decoration on the front porch, it looks super realistic.”
“Damn, nice Giovanni costume,” Butch said.
“What? Haha, no, sorry,” the man laughed, “I didn’t get a costume… it was at the cleaners and I got a sudden emergency assassination call over at Cinnabar, so I couldn’t make it there and to the party. Sorry to be such a party pooper. Ooh, do I smell alcohol?”
“…you’re Giovanni?” Sycamore asked, confused, his head about to explode.
“Of course I am! Remember that night in Tojoh Falls, when you and Lysandre were there, and—”
“Then who’s that!?” Lysandre asked, pointing to the man in the Professor Oak costume.
“…that’s Professor Oak,” Giovanni said, scratching his head. “Why the fuck did you invite him to a villain party?”
“OH LOOK AT THE TIME I HAVE TO GO REMEMBER MY GRANDSON’S NAME BYE,” Oak shouted, removing his hand from Cassidy’s hair and his other hand from Domino’s, uh… from Domino, then racing towards the door. “Seeya, bitches!”
“Phew,” Giovanni said. “I hope he didn’t cause any trouble. He’s notorious in Kanto for going to parties, saying he’s other people, getting people drunk and taking advantage of poor, impressionable young women. Now that’s real evil right there. Even I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Lawrence III said, removing his Wreck it Ralph costume and his Lawrence III mask to reveal that he was actually Officer Jenny. “I was just pretending to be drunk, and to be Lawrence III, and to be Officer Jenny.” He removed his Officer Jenny mask to reveal he was really Looker. “I’m actually an International Police officer here to catch Oak, the notorious worldwide attempted date rapist. I'm glad I caught him before he succeeded at his sinister goal, your heroic actions have saved all these young women. No worries to you other guys, though, being a part of an evil syndicate is legal in Kalos.”
“Score one for France!” Giovanni said; high fiving Lysandre.
“Wait,” Sycamore asked, “why are you high fiving Lysandre?”
“Because he’s my hero,” Giovanni said. “His work as the leader of Team Flare is what inspired me to start Team Rocket in the first place, you know.”
“I… You… You’re… I… My best friend… My love interest… I… Team Flare… you…”
“Oh shit,” Giovanni said, “don’t tell me Sycamore didn’t know.”
“…goddamn it, Gigi,” Lysandre replied.
“Wake up, Lysandre!”
Lysandre reached out and grabbed Sycamore, pulling him down to the mall hospital bed heterosexually. “It’s okay, Gigi, I forgive you, now let’s kiss,” he murmured.
“Sandy, it’s me, Sycamore. You passed out in the mall arcade and were out for a long time, but Nurse Joy says you’re fine, and also that your majestic chesthair arouses her. Though she told me not to tell you that last part.”
“What? It’s not Halloween? There’s no party? You—you don’t know who the leader of Team Flare is!?”
“Hah, of course not!” Sycamore laughed. “Nobody knows who the leader of Team Flare is! He’s the #1 most wanted criminal in Kalos, if anyone knew who he was they’d be famous, no way I’d pass up getting famous if I DID know. I bet you don’t even know, and you’re rich! You must have had a really weird dream.”
“Oh, thank Arceus!” Lysandre shouted, leaping out of bed with his puma-strength legs and embracing Sycamore with all the strength and straight bromantic passion of his incredibly manly and heterosexual biceps. “I love you! As, as a friend of course.”
“You’re choking me to death,” Sycamore said. “But I love you too. As, as a friend, of course. Now, let’s go do some fucking clothes shopping.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
(regular Chapter 4 coming soon, really. let me know if you like this kind of special, though, and I'll try to do something like it for Christmas and maybe even Thanksgiving too... or, if you never want to see something like this ever again, let me know that too and I'll spend my time on the normal chapters, haha. thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoyed it and Happy Halloween!)
CLICK ME TO GO TO THE NEXT CHAPTER, BITCH!
Last edited by Lysandre; 15th February 2014 at 01:05 AM.
I obviously made the right choice when I clicked on the GIF.
Which came first: the Mew or the Arceus?
I'm secretly enjoying to read this... No, I'm not reading this! xD
I wonder those villain teams will appear in future...
Oh yeah, maybe you could add more Pokémon... like girly Machamp or manly Gardevoir... lol
I have no words...
I never thought anything could get this fabularity rating...
THIS CHAPTER IS THE GREATEST THING THOUGH.
we have Lysandre and Sycamore, so Awesometastic/10 right off the bat
WE HAVE ALL THE OTHER VILLAINS.
YOU REMEMBERED LAWRENCE III EXISTED.
and Frollo!Ghetsis and Quasi!N were just perfect. Best Disney movie + awesome villain + villain's abused son = amaze.
i laughed so hard
Another awesome chapter, man. Oh my, yes, best picture by far. *Sees Cyrus and instantly dies*
HELLFIRE! DARK FIRE! HERE NOW N IT'S YOUR TURN.
GIVE UP YOUR
GIVE UP OR YOU WILL BUUUUUURN!
Loved this chapter, man. While I don't think you should do one for EVERY holiday, doing the major international holidays (like Christmas and New Years) would be great.
Omg omg I came across this this morning before I went to uni and it just f****** hilarious. I cracked up alone while everyone here was asleep lol
Lysandre-sama ( the writer not our majestic and fabulous secret boss of team flare) please count me in as a devoted devourer of the quality literature you provide!!!!
Proud claimer of the Snow Dragon Kyurem. 24/01/2014
Well, it sure took me long enough, eh? Sorry on the delay for this one. My rehearsal schedule has intensified to where I'm only FOR SURE going to be able to make new chapters on weekends now... but that's not that bad since that's still a chapter a week at the very least. Thanks for your patience, and I'm thrilled you all liked the Halloween episode!
Responses to comments:
Thanks for all the comments, it makes my day every time I see one posted! I hope to keep hearing from you as we work together to make a more beautiful world.
Alright, back to normal length chapters. There's actually a little bit of clothes shopping in this one, too! Shocking, I know. I'm quite pleased with how this one came out, and this actually has a lot of the stuff I came up with when I first had the idea for this story, so I think you'll enjoy it, though as always all feedback, critical or beaming, is encouraged!
“TRADITIONEL KANTO MASAEGE,” a neon sign glared over the sexy scientist’s sexy head. Sycamore had never been faced with this kind of dilemma since he had to decide if he wanted Skittles or condoms from the vending machine at work when he only had 75 cents. The hot-blooded blood in his heart, which had grown three sizes that day, beat harder and better and faster and stronger than it ever had before, even that one night at Tohjoh falls in the cabin when Giovanni showed up at the barbecue and--
“Please, master Sycamore,” the Furisode Girl in pigtails cooed in an adorable Kanto accent, gripping his bulging man-biceps, “it’s on the house for a man like you.”
“No, goddamn it,” Sycamore said, fighting his heterosexual instincts. “My friend is getting out of the mall hospital, and I have to be there to make sure he doesn’t get lost!”
“But doctor,” she whimpered, “we’re such big fans of your research, and of… you. You are all over the magazines in Kanto! We have watched all the video cassette tapes of your Sexy in Sinnoh series from your past careers! You are biggest sex appeal man in all of Fran—er, Kalos! We give you traditional Kanto massage on the house!”
“Don’t think with your Digglett, don’t think with your Diglett,” Sycamore repeated to himself in his head, trying to blur out his mental image of what lay under the Furisodes with a mental image of Lysandre burning down a Chick Fil A and him getting the blame.
“Very special massage,” the one with a flower in her hair said equally sexily in broken English, “much happy relaxation for amazing Kalosian scientist, yes yes!”
“No, girls, I’m sorry, I don’t need a massage,” he said, pulling away as they recoiled sadly and teared up a bit. “I really must be going, I have to pick up my, um, my nephew before he gets scared and lonely. And I’m not a big massage guy anyway.”
“It’s not just a Kanto massage,” the first Furisode girl said, edging up close to him again and brushing his beautiful locks of womanly hair from in front of his shocking, ocean-blue eyes. “There’ll be that, but then… postgame content.”
“Goddamn it, me,” Sycamore said, a manly tear sliding down his face. He was out of usable excuses, it was time to give away his love as the prize money, white out and then hurry to a Pokemon Center “Alright, girls, I’m not one to turn away my foreign fans,” he sighed, admonished as fuck. They squealed and leapt up and down, but Sycamore did not. He was guilty. So guilty. So, so fucking guilty. Guiltier than he had been when he realized Diantha had been a man all along. But… but it was okay, because he knew deep down inside Lysandre would have done the same thing. Well, maybe not, because Lysandre was probably gay. But if they had been oiled up Furisode Men then he would have. Sycamore guiltily stepped past the Maneki-Meowth in the window into the little story and tried to put Lysandre out of his mind. Big mistake.
“OH MY GOD,” Lysandre shouted, springing from the crusted hospital mall bed like Sycamore’s genitalia sprang up at the midnight showing of Diantha’s latest movie. “Morey, I just had the craziest dream, that I had a Halloween party and you found out I was the boss of Team Flare which I’m not by the way and we made out and then I woke up from the dream and you said we’d go clothes shopping but that was a dream too and now here I am and—” Darkness and loneliness crept into his soul like Cheetos crumbs creeping across an otaku’s PS3 controller as he realized his lov—er, friend was missing. “Morey?” he asked, pulling up the covers over him.
“That’ll be 20,000 Pokedollars, sweet cheeks,” the fat male nurse (whose name was also, for some reason, Nurse Joy) interrupted.
“Go fuck yourself, intern,” Lysandre shouted, tossing him a 50,000 Pokedollar bill (it was the smallest denomination he had) and running out of the tiny little backroom ER like a Zubat out of hell.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Giovanni said, creeping up behind Lysandre. Lysandre, panicked, turned round and tossed his wallet at Giovanni, knocking him to the ground and ever so slightly splitting his head and skull open on the tile.
“Oh! Gigi! I’m so sorry,” Lysandre shouted, helping him up. “I had a dream about you just now. I mean, not like a wet dream, just like, a totally heterosexual dream, where I got drunk and made out with Sycamore and you tried to date rape a bunch of my workers but you were actually Professor Oak.”
“Good to see you too, Sandy,” Giovanni replied, spraying his head with a full restore he had in his manbag. “It’s a good thing I carry around a full restore in my manbag,” he laughed. “What brings you to the mall? I thought you were above poor person stores like this. I’m just here to get a present for my son, Silver. It’s his birthday soon, you know, can you believe it’s been four generations already? He’s going through his liberal phase, growing his hair out and stealing things and listening to Tom Petty and voting for Obama and stuff. Ghetsis says that’s pretty common for kids his age, and that I should get him a Hot Topic gift card if I want to make him happy.”
“Hot Topic? Why would you get him a gift card to my café?”
“Oh, Sandy, you kill me! …wait, you’re serious. You’ve never been to Hot Topic?”
“No, I own Hot Topic, I just told you.”
“I mean the clothing store, not your metrosexual croissant store.”
“I also mean the clothing store, in addition to my metrosexual croissant store.”
“You own Hot Topic!?” Giovanni asked, his powerful, shapely jaw dropping seductively. “From what I gathered from the past three chapters, I thought you’d never been to a mall before!
“I haven’t,” Lysandre scoffed. “Do you seriously expect me to fly out and visit every store I own? What, do you think I’m made of money? I mean, I am, but that’s not my point. Goddamn it, you know what I mean. Let’s go to Hot Topic, I’m curious to see it myself, I let Malva set it up so I’m sure it’s great. I’ll even give you an almost-best-friend-discount! Sorry, the best-friend discount is reserved for Sycamore, who should have been here to get me by now, that goddamned cunt.”
“…um, thank you, I think,” Giovanni replied, smacking away Lysandre’s hand as he tried to sensually grip it with his own, apparently unaware of both the homosexual undertones and the unclear antecedents in this sentence.
Lysandre’s jaw dropped as he admired the black and red, industrial-looking store with the bloody “HOT TOPIC” sign in the front. “Malva did me so proud,” he said, a single tear trickling down his beard.
“My god,” Giovanni said, noticing the My Little Ponyta shirts lining the entrance, “this is a hell of a way to decorate a store for little girls. Why does she have these little girl shirts amidst all of this dark and foreboding skulls and skeletons and gothic shit? Does she WANT them to grow up to be emo hipsters?”
“This is stupid,” Giovanni spat, ripping down the shirts from the display. “Is this some kind of fucking joke? These were made like one hundred and fifty one sizes too big. No little girl would fit in this shit. Well maybe a little girl from Unova. But I digress.”
“Those are men’s shirts, silly,” Lysandre chuckled. “My Little Ponyta is a show that transcends age and gender.”
“…what?” Giovanni asked. “This is a store for GROWN UPS!?”
“Of course,” Lysandre chuckled. “Otherwise the My Little Ponyta thongs and garter belts would be in very poor taste.” Lysandre turned his curvaceous calf sideways and lifted his delicious orange leather pants to reveal a yellow and pink ‘MLP’ garterbelt of his own. “Butterfreeshy is the best Ponyta,” he whispered seductively.
“Goddamn it, Lysandre,” Giovanni said, pulling the Full Restore out of his manbag and spraying himself furiously with it in the eyes. “This store sucks ass, it’s just goth shit and internet memes. Why would Silver want to shop here?”
“Maybe he’s a bronyta?” Lysandre asked helpfully.
“This is gay,” Giovanni growled, stomping out of the store. “I'll get him a gun set from Unova, or a monster truck, or a six pack of Budweiser. No, I got it! I’m gonna’ get him a gift card to the goddamned Kanto massage parlor. Maybe getting touched by that many gorgeous Kantonese women will straighten him out. Goddamn it, Lysandre, I thought you were an evil team leader, and you go and make a place like this? You're turning liberal, Lysandre! You're as bad as Silver and N! Goddamn it!”
“Sycamore’s favorite Ponyta is Duskstone Sparkle,” Lysandre called after Giovanni, but he had already stomped off.
“What are you doing here, old man?” the androgynous fellow at the register with a purple Mohawk, 24 piercings and a 'Lucky Star Hentai Inspector' shirt chortled at Lysandre. “The AARP office is three doors down.”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Lysandre said, “I’m just firing your ass.” He ripped his orange jacket open to reveal a “HOT TOPIC MANAGER OF THE WORLLLLLD” shirt. The fellow behind the register burst into tears and ran out of the store to call his mom.
“What a cunt,” Lysandre sighed, leaning on the counter. “I bet his favorite Ponyta is Rarecandity. Bitch.”
Giovanni came running back into the store looking like he had just seen a Missingno.
“What, were they out of gift c—”
“Then what happened?”
Giovanni straightened his tie and stared through time and space like an Espurr riding suggestively on Palkia’s phallus head. “Let me tell you two important pieces of information. One: I know where Sycamore is. Two: that is no normal massage parlor.”
“Morey!” Lysandre shouted, rushing out of the store to the parlor as Giovanni tried to figure out a way to spray full restore into his brain. Lysandre arrived just as Sycamore exited, his hair attractively rustled and tousled as he zipped up his pants.
“Morey, why are you zipping up your pants?”
“OH GOD HI LYSANDRE YOU SCARED ME. Um… I just had my, uh, prostate checked. They do that here. Yeah.”
“So that’s what Giovanni meant when he said this was a special massage parlor! Do you think they have time for one more?” Lysandre unzipped his pants and charged at the parlor as the frightened girls slammed the metal ‘closed’ barrier down in his face. “Shit, guess I’ll just have to pay a doctor for it. So do you want to actually go clothes shopping? Apparently that Hot Topic store I own has Bronyta stuff!”
“Um… sure, Lysandre. Have you been to Eddie Bauer yet? It’s manly, like you are. You can check that out while I see if the place you mentioned has any Duskstone Sparkle shirts.”
Lysandre, feeling new confidence after ruining one of his workers’ lives and preventing them from eating or ever holding a job again, marched proudly by himself to Eddie Bauer (he even figured out from the non-broken directory how to get there, all by himself!) store. In the window was a gigantic image of the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire goddamned life aside from Sycamore’s unzipped pants just now: a gigantic orange fedora.
“Oh my god,” Lysandre squealed, racing inside and looking eagerly about the wooden-décor outdoorsy store for the fedoras. But… where were they? He looked inside every pocket in every coat, and there were no fedoras. He looked in the cash register, and there were no fedoras. He looked under the skirts of all the female shoppers, but there were no fedoras. He looked under the kilt of the Scottish shopper, and got his face punched in, but there were no fedoras. He smashed the mirror with his fist and re-opened his gaping wound, but found only shattered pride, shattered glass, and blood loss… no fedoras.
“Can I help you, you goddamned lunatic?” the employee next to him sighed.
“Yes, yes of course,” Lysandre said, calmly wiping his hand on the employee’s man-apron. “I want that fucking fantastic orange fedora you had in the window.”
The employee laughed louder than Sycamore did in the final scene of his “Sexy in Sinnoh 24: Really Lickitung or Just Unova Women?” VHS from his pre-science days. “Oh god, that’s good. We sold out of those fucking things the day we put up that ad, I’m just too goddamned lazy to take it down. Don’t feel bad though, you don’t want one of those. Only neckbeard atheist internet tough guys wear fedoras.”
“That’s why I need one,” Lysandre replied, “though I’m more of a Zen Judeochristian Arceusist Mystic than an atheist, and I shaved my neck this month. I love orange. I fucking love it. I couldn’t love it any more if I was secretly the boss of Team Flare, which I’m not. I need that fucking fedora.”
“Sir, we’re all sold out, like I already said. There are no more. And they don’t make them anymore. There is no way you can get one here. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever.”
Lysandre’s mouth curled sexually into a smirk as he slipped a 50,000,000 Pokedollar bill over the counter. “I see how it is. Trying to keep the fabulosity for yourself, eh? I know the game, you sly little Furfrou you, it’s fine, I don’t blame you. Now let’s cut the bullshit and make with the fed.”
“Thanks,” the man replied, pocketing the bill, “but there’s no fedoras. Goodbye.”
“What do you mean!? I just paid you a SHITLOAD of money, there HAS to be a fedora.”
“Let me explain this to you, gingy,” the employee sighed. “There’s only so many resources in the world, alright? There’s seven billion people in this world, and hundreds of times more Pokemon than that. There is no way, even with a shitload of money, that everyone can have, say… a fedora. Some people will have them, and be beautiful, and some won’t. That’s just how it is. Not even money can stop that problem from happening.”
“…w-what? You mean… there’s not enough…”
“That’s right, you cunt. There’s not enough water for everyone, either, or food, or any of that shit. And people just keep multiplying like a horny Nidoqueen at the daycare center, so it’ll just get worse, until there’s no water or clothes or Viagra or anything else for anyone.”
Lysandre’s eyelids twitched. “I… I don’t…is that true?”
“Yes, you idiot!”
“I… I can’t get an orange fedora… because there’s too many people in the world?”
“So, theoretically, if someone was able to, like, kill off almost everyone in the world, then the people left could be beautiful, and could all have orange fedoras?”
“…well, I guess so, you fucking psychopath.”
“I see. Thank you for this, bro. I have a lot to think about.”
“I’m a lady, you douchebag. And fuck you too.”
Lysandre started to walk out of the store, but paused and wistfully turned round again.
“…you sure there’s no more orange fe—”
“GET OUT OF MY MOTHERFUCKING STORE!”
WHAT DARKNESS HAS AWAKENED IN LYSANDRE'S HEART?
WHAT WILL SYCAMORE FIND AT HOT TOPIC?
IS THERE EVER ACTUALLY ANYTHING USEFUL AT BROOKSTONE?
THESE QUESTIONS AND MORE TO POSSIBLY BE ANSWERED AS THE STORY IS TO BE CONTINUED...
CLICK ME TO GO TO THE NEXT CHAPTER, BITCH!
Last edited by Lysandre; 15th February 2014 at 01:06 AM.
It's like every time I don't think it can get any better it does. This is just brilliant on all levels!
I don't want to pressure you or anything, but seriously, you have to keep writing this, or at least reach a satisfying conclusion. It's just too good. XD
I had to don sunglasses halfway through because the heterosexual brilliance overwhelmed my plebian eyes! Props to you for another perfect-in-every-way chapter asddsfujkfhgfdgj.
Now, not to question the judgement of the brilliantly rich and sexy totally-not-Team-Flare-leader Lysandre, but don't we all know that the best Ponyta is Pinkie Poffin?
Aromatisse/MegaAmpharos/Jynx/Sexy in Sinnoh Issue 69 out of 10.
God Damn I'm running out of ranks >.<
I just absolutely love this more and more :p
Haha, brownie points for the Scotsmen. I'm Scottish, but I'm not ginger (so I can't be as fabulous as Lysandre >.< *sobs in corner*) nor wearing a kilt most of the time, but take a God Damn brownie. Or a Cookie Brownie. Or 2012.
I swear to god if I see Greninja (oddly my new favourite final Kalos Starter) jumping over the moon my life will be as awesome as the time I finished The House of Hades in 7 straight hours.
Sycamore thinks (fabulous SUPAH lord) Lysandre is gay? Is he blind? Lysandre is more hetro than a Male Aromatisse.
This. Is. Fucking. Amazing.