Ok, how about a battle? I'll prove that my Magmortar is worth it. One on one. My Magmortar versus your Jeanette" Jake sighed and looked at me. I nodded, then gave her a slap right across the face. I really felt insulted by her.

"Well, I guess she accepts." He paused, "Fine, there's a battle ring in the centre of the mall, meet me there in five minutes."

"Will do," She said glaring at me. I just glared right back. I wasn't about to be intimidated by the likes of her.

Uhhh... Why is the genetic abomination and the most-likely punk girl glaring at eachother? Because punk-lady wants the Gardevoir, shouldn't she not be glaring at her?
XXVII

That red light spilled forth, and the Magmortar emerged. It was a bit shorter than I was, but then again I was big for a Gardevoir, being five foot six, three inches taller than normal.

Well aren't you just a special one? Seriously, was the author thinking that because their character was so f*cking special they'd just be raking in the follows and faves?
XXVIII

The opponent opened the battle. "Magmortar, Flamethrower!" He charged up a fireball and shot a plume of fire at me.

Okay, this one I don't know. Because I only play using psychic types, is there any real way to tell if a Magmortar's male or female ASIDE from looking at their HP box?
XXIX

Some time ago, we had come up with attack strategies. What attack to use after another has been used

No sh*t.
XXX

"Well, I can see why you don't want to trade." She said as she treated Magmortar's wounds, "She is quite the fighter."

Okay, just because this author is trying to paint her to look like the evil spawn of a satanic pentagram and summoned from the personal toilet of Donald f*cking Trump doesn't mean that I'm gonna dislike this character. Seriously, she has the most personality of anyone here!
XXXI

"She's my friend. I don't own her, she is allowed to go when ever she wants. For technical reasons, she does have a pokeball and is registered as one of my pokemon, so she's not wild. However, if one of my pokemon ever wanted leave, they are welcome to. We are a team. Not master and slave. You have to understand that."

"Righteous As F*ck" cliché.
XXXII

I started watching the crowd go by when I noticed one man who just seemed out of place. He was just standing outside one of the buildings. He was dressed in a brown trench coat and wore a hat in such a way that it covered much of his face. He was trying so hard not to be noticed, that he stood out like a beacon.

Trust me, kids. Next time you see a guy wearing a trench coat and a f*cking fedora, remember he's probably high.
XXXIII

However, that was shattered as a loud bang echoed through the mall barely half a second latter. It seemed that my psychic instinct and my bond with Jake would be the end of me. I felt the pain shoot out from the back of my chest and spread until my whole back felt like it was on fire.

I think the trench coat guy shot her. Don't do drugs, kids.
XXXIV

But this wasn't like when you lose in battle. This was a gradual loss, the vision slowly turning black from the outside in. I managed to whisper an apology as much to myself as it was to Jake before I blacked out. I had apologised for all those missed futures, those lost possibilities, for the perfect future never to be found. Lastly, I apologised to myself for never having the guts to speak, to admit how I felt.

Yeah, yeah. We get it, you died, but because you're f*cking you, I'm sure this is gonna lead into a bullsh*t dream sequence that will SOMEHOW revive you.
XXXV

I found myself in the dark. I was cold and I could hear unfamiliar voices screaming in the blackness, many voices of fear and anger. They start faintly but then became louder and louder until it reached an unbearable cacophony of sound. The voices spun around and around me.

How many times have I seen this before?
XXXVI

"Come on Jeanette! If we stick around here we'll never find the others." I looked at the figure, How did it know my name? And what others?

Do we really give a crap? As long as you're in this dream bullsh*t, I'm not happy.
XXXVII

I awoke in the lobby of the pokemon centre. Must've dosed off…

Ah, here we are again, in the world of the f*cking conscious. Oh don't worry, I skipped roughly three paragraphs for you. You can thank me later.
XXXVII

I was lying on that bed.

Oh, f*ck me. An out of body expierence? Are you f*cking kidding me?!
XXXVIII

No." Interrupted, "At least I don't think so. I think I need to find something I lost, a part of me that stayed behind when my soul attempted pass over.

Yes, how many MORE cliché's can we cram into this story?! This is seriously getting tiresome. Y'know what? This story can have fifty sins for this, free of charge!
LXXXVIII

"I had this dream…" He began, and searched my eyes for recognition. I tried as best as I could to hide any. I thought that if he was to admit any feelings it had to be genuine. If he really loves me, it cannot be because I said something in a dream. He has to come to it himself, if it is there. If he loves me, he has to say

Guess what?

"I love you" I lov- WHAT?

Yeah, scrubf*ck here pulls the "Finish Sentence" cliché!
LXXXIX

Now I won't lie to you. It wasn't a happily ever after. There were initial prejudices, but, over time, we were accepted. We even had children, a boy and a girl. They were mostly human, with a few Ralts like qualities. Unlike pokemon, though, they evolved with age and, in the boy's case, without a dawn stone. By the time they were twenty, they were a Gardevoir and a Gallade. We would be forever proud of them and forever in love with each other.

No. No, no, no this cannot be the ending!! Human Pokémon hybrids?! F*cking HYBRIDS?! Okay, so I wanted to sin some trainer X Gardevoir crap, 'cause I love the hell out of it, but I did NOT want to see this paragraph topping it all off! And they evolve. That's f*cking nice. Excuse me for a minute.
MDLXXXIX

What? Too extreme? *sigh* fine.
DLXXXIX

Total Sin Talley: Five-Hundred-Eighty-Nine.
Sentence: Cleaning Donald Trump's Toilet. (And his small lone of a million dollars.)