Set 11 of 17 of the 807 mini drabble collection. I'll update the page as I finish more pokémon that fall into this number range. In general these drabbles will cover a wide range of genres/subjects/etc., hence the vague summary below; if anything warrants a special note, however, it will be mentioned here.
Genre: Varies, usually General
Rating: Varies, usually K
Approx. Wordcount: 100 words each (900 total)
Newest Additions: 505 Watchog, 508 Stoutland, 511 Pansage, 513 Pansear, 515 Panpour on 12/03/2016
Watchy Watchog dug through the What's That? set's back room, a pile of former featured items rising behind him. Popped air balloon... ring target... rotten leftovers, ick... why did his co-host keep foisting all this junk on him? Or, he thought as he rolled the iron ball away, throwing it at his head? If she tried that with next week's toxic orb he'd end up in the pokémon center. Again.
Watchy relaxed when his paw touched his prize: the eject button, from episode 27.
Next time she got a little over-enthusiastic with the items, he'd just eject himself outta there.
A lillipup is not a purrloin. A purrloin wouldn't have eaten half her imported handbag or redecorated her white carpets with big golden polkadots. A purrloin wouldn't have escaped into the rainy yard and trotted back in wearing a big smile and a gallon of mud.
No, a lillipup is definitively not a purrloin, but as she watched it lead her boyfriend on a merry dance through the house, Tom's every lunge for it ending in a spectacular miss and getting it no closer to a bath, she did note that the lillipup made a far more entertaining birthday gift.
"You don't stand a chance against Stoutland! He's strong, he's smart... he's even saved my life!" Cara grinned as Stoutland plunged through the sandstorm and bit Hippowdon again. "I got caught in an avalanche while skiing, and he dug me out and kept me warm!"
Hippowdon's sand blast bounced off of Stoutland's coat. Stoutland darted in and sank icy fangs into Hippowdon's back.
"Fine. Let's see how he likes this!" Cara's opponent tossed an abomasnow onto the field. Cold winds whipped through its leaves.
The first hailstones hit Stoutland, who skidded to a halt and hid behind his paws, whimpering.
She always winced when Persephone called herself "Nimbasa's Feral Liepard". She knew she should've been flattered—Sephie so admired wild liepard that she wanted to model her latest tough persona after one—but it was downright embarrassing when a girl who fancied herself a fierce wildcat squealed like a trapped baby minccino whenever the Ferris wheel issued the slightest clunk or clatter. Real feral liepard were proud, strong, fearless. She would have to show her trainer how it was done as soon as the boy and his big arcanine went away and she could come back down from the tree.
"Get a load of this dweeb!" Pansage laughed. He shoved the goomy to the floor and left him whimpering. "He's such a pushover, ahahaha!"
He didn't notice the vulpix until she spoke to him. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to call people names?"
Eh, she might've said something once. "A wise pansage does not speak ill of others," was it?
If Mom had met this dork, though, she would've understood. She'd definitely have laughed. He deserved it!
"Yeah, sure," Pansage snorted. "If you wanna call this loser 'people'!"
The vulpix shook her head, then set Pansage on fire.
Pansear leaned close to Throh. "Whimsicott says that Sawk stole those new belts he's been showing off," she whispered.
Never mind Mother's "a wise pansear shuns idle gossip". Sharing juicy scandals was the only way Throh would tell her that embarrassing story about Whirlipede!
She expected Throh to look intrigued. He looked furious. "That's where my— argh, that thief, I'll-!" He stormed off.
Sawk strode up to Pansear and Whimsicott as they relaxed by the river later. "Someone," he growled, "went blabbing to Throh."
"Oh, yeah, Pansear spoke to him earlier!" Whimsicott trilled. She hurried away.
Sawk cracked his knuckles.
"So, Unfezant," Panpour said. "Where were you and that cute staraptor coming from?"
"W-we... uh..." Unfezant stammered.
"Riiiiight." Panpour grinned. "I don't tell your mate I saw you fooling around, you bring me ten berries a day. Deal?"
Mom said "a wise panpour does not spy on others", but he was glad he'd spied this. Ten berries daily just for staying quiet? Too easy.
Panpour was enjoying his latest batch of berries when the female unfezant fluttered over. "Hey, Unfezant, how're—"
"You knew about my mate and that hussy and didn't tell me!" she shrieked. She lunged for Panpour talons-first.
He panicked and dove after the kasib berry he'd dropped yet again. The female swoobat darted around the stalactites and toward the cave mouth, moving farther away each time he stopped to recover from a fumble. He caught his prize and held it gently in his teeth as he finally caught up, carefully, carefully, mustn't crush his gift for her...
The berry slipped from his mouth again. She scowled. He shot down, caught the fruit, hurried back up to her height... and she was gone, fluttering out into the night. His heart sank. If only he weren't such a klutz...
Conkeldurr had already resigned herself to the fact that iron fists were something she could only have in her dreams. There were extra reserves of strength she could call upon, sure, but only in desperate situations, only when she was feeling sick and down—and who really liked only being at their best when they were feeling their worst?
She pulled her hands free of the molds and turned them over and back so she could inspect the coverage. Looked solid. Iron fists might be beyond her reach... but she figured she could have plenty of fun with concrete ones.