Set 5 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.
Note: 236 and 237 (Tyrogue and Hitmontop) are technically part of a set with 106 and 107, found here. They should stand on their own well enough that the order doesn't matter, but you may want to read Tyrogue's drabble first anyway.
Genre: Varies, usually General
Rating: Varies, usually K
Approx. Wordcount: 100 words each (1500 total)
Newest Additions: Girafarig, Scizor, Remoraid, Houndour, Houndoom, Kingdra, Donphan on 12/03/2016
Alonso found something different every time he ventured into the Ruins of Alph. Hidden passageways, crumbling carvings... on last week's excursion he'd even fallen down a hole and discovered a new room full of sliding puzzles. The F-shaped unown he'd landed on hadn't been too thrilled, but he'd had a field day.
He'd found a new inscription this afternoon. Alonso ran his hand along the letters, absentmindedly brushing hieroglyph and flattened unown alike as he read. "Their eyes... see the secret... don't land on me again you fu— hey!"
Alonso glared at the inscription. The letter "F" glared right back.
"I think they hide their tails because they're just weird like that," said Carter.
"My brother says that's where their real brains are," said Diane, "and they're keeping them safe."
Jeremiah grinned. "What if those aren't even tails at all? What if they're really alien parasites controlling their every move, hiding behind a bulbous blue façade so we suspect nothing?"
Eric snorted over the resulting giggle fit. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," he said. He rolled his eyes, stood, surreptitiously tucked in the wide-eyed tail peeking over the back of his jeans and hurried off to class.
"I dunno about this." Ferdinand side-eyed his friend's pokémon. "Poker with your girafarig? I mean, he's psychic. Won't he know what's in our hands?"
Luke shrugged and dealt the cards. "Girafarig can't read minds. He felt left out on poker nights, so I taught him the rules and he holds the cards with his powers. That's it. Honestly, I beat him on most hands, and I don't lose too bad when he wins."
Ferdinand bet one chip. Harley called. Girafarig appraised his cards, then telekinetically tossed three chips onto the table.
Girafarig's tail giggled.
"See?" said Luke. Everyone else folded.
The others always hid when trainers wandered by, always hugged the trees more tightly so they'd be harder to dislodge with just a few headbutts, but she wanted to see the children's faces. She liked their wide eyes as they took in the vastness of the forest. She liked the dawning recognition when they realized she was a rare find. She liked their determination as their partners tried to wear her down with scratches and embers and gusts of wind. She loved that perfect combination of frustration and dismay when she exploded just before their poké balls could reach her.
Beautifly twisted away from one pincer only to meet the other. Scizor sliced through its paper-thin wings with a satisfying snap, leaving her foe to flutter uselessly to the ground.
"I guess your scizor's pretty good," the opposing trainer scoffed as he chose a new battler. "But your free ride is over. My next pokémon's natural advantage will crush you flat!"
Scizor stared up at the onix towering overhead—its long, sturdy horn, its massive body segments like boulders stacked together. The onix rumbled a challenge down at her.
Scizor rolled her eyes and tore into it with metal claw.
"But I can help!" Magcargo wheedled, straining to ooze forward at a pace that matched Flygon's. "You couldn't ask for a better teammate! Like, like... ice moves, right? So picture this—we're fighting a sneasel, right, all 'look at me, I'm so cold and awesome', and you're all 'oh no, man, I hope he doesn't use ice punch on me', but if he tries it on me..." The snail flashed a goopy grin. "He can try all he wants, but he'll never freeze my magma armor!"
"Magcargo," Flygon sighed, "who on earth is going to try to ice punch you?"
Swinub backed up until she hit the wall. A dead end. The pair of houndour was almost on top of her now, and she could almost feel the heat that rushed from their jaws with every guttural snarl. Fire licked around their muzzles as they drew closer, closer, their mouths opened wide, a stream of searing flames rushed forth—
The torrent of fire subsided and Swinub was still standing, fur lightly singed but comfortably insulated from the worst of the blast. She coughed, smiled sweetly at her pursuers, said "Try again, boys," and sent them scrambling with a mighty earthquake.
"Please, Henry!" Harriet tugged at her brother's shirt. "Let me play water guns!"
"Nope," Henry said, filling his weapon with the hose. "Water guns aren't for girls."
Harriet moped by the fish pond while the boys ran around the front yard. "No fair," she muttered to the swimming pokémon. "I could play water guns, too..."
Something blue swam close. Harriet grinned.
Out front, Henry ducked under a squirt from a friend. "Nyeah-nyeah, you missed—"
A torrential blast of water knocked him down flat.
Harriet stood over him, brandishing a remoraid. "I don't need your boys' water gun. I've got this."
The chick screeched angrily as its mother took off and a careless sweep of her wings knocked it into a bundle of thorns. Its feathers, still so malleable and soft, afforded no protection from the myriad tiny needles strewn throughout its nest, and it hissed as it struggled to position itself somewhere slightly less pointy.
It relaxed when something scraped—glanced off of, really—a spot on its back. Good. Soon the tough patch would spread, and its entire body would be impervious to more than just wayward thorns.
Soon its mother wouldn't be able to knock it around anymore.
"She's great, isn't she?" Jerome threw hard, then turned to Darius as his houndour took off after the target.
"She sure likes fetch, anyway," said Darius. "Still... a houndour? Don't you worry about their reputation?"
"Oh, please. A houndour is just like any other dog pokémon! She's super-sweet and friendly and wouldn't hurt a cutiefly. All that 'hellhound' stuff is nonsense."
Houndour trotted back to her trainer, stubby tail wagging, smiling around a mouthful of something long and white.
Darius frowned. "Where does she keep getting those bones, though?"
Jerome shrugged. "I try not to think too hard about that."
"Look," the man said, squaring up and suppressing a shiver. "I need that. Give it to me."
The pillar of fire crackled ominously.
"I said I need it. Now." He reached down. The flames roared and lashed at his arms, driving him back.
"No!" the man shrieked. "Okay, we'll trade! What do you want?"
A low growl issued from the flames.
"Are you crazy? That's too many—" The fire surged, twisting into a blazing tornado. "Okay, okay! Twelve steaks, I promise! Please!"
The bonfire collapsed into swirling ash and embers.
Houndoom pushed the shoe toward her owner, tail wagging triumphantly.
"...and the biggest ship I've ever seen passed right overhead!" Lanturn spread her fins wide for emphasis. Kingdra rolled his eyes and stifled a yawn. Seriously? She saw "the biggest ship ever" every other day.
"The shadow it cast felt like it would go on forever!" Yeah, so did this story.
He couldn't help it. His eyelids drooped. A cavernous yawn bubbled out of his mouth...
By the time the maelstrom subsided, Kingdra was wide awake and staring at the massive object he'd inadvertently dragged down.
"See?" Lanturn crowed, waving at the sunken ship. "I told you it was big!"
Empoleon clapped Donphan on his rugged back. "That was great! You really showed 'em, eh?"
"Yeah!" Heracross nodded. "You crashed head-first into that magmar so often I thought you'd pass out, but you just floored 'im!"
"That's nothin'," Donphan laughed. "Don't bother me one bit. Not like Empoleon! One time he was fightin' this mienshao—"
"Nobody remembers that old battle," Empoleon said quickly.
"I do! You tripped right over 'er whip and got your pointy crown stuck in a tree..."
Heracross giggled. Empoleon sighed. After all those impacts to the head, you'd think he'd forget something once in a while...
When the time came he realized it was a more complicated choice than he'd first assumed. He suddenly felt awkward, unsure, every experimental punch or kick or pirouette became clumsy and ponderous. How could he make the most important decision of his life when all three goals were clearly too difficult to attain?
But then, he reasoned, it wasn't just about skill. Skill he could learn and perfect in time. It was about potential, what he wanted to do with his life. He smiled, made up his mind and resumed practicing, confident that he couldn't have made a poor choice.
At first he'd thought that all the spinning about upside down would make him hopelessly dizzy. He was pleasantly surprised to find that that wasn't the case, and in hindsight it should have been obvious that his new body would be better-suited to maintaining its balance even after whirling around like a top.
He wondered whether it should also have been obvious just how often he'd get stuck. Spin a little too fast on just the wrong surface and he'd drill himself into the ground, coming to an abrupt and painful stop.
Sometimes he wished he'd become a hitmonlee instead.