Set 15 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 (800 total)
Newest Additions: 702 Dedenne, 710 Pumpkaboo, 725 Litten, 737 Charjabug, 742 Cutiefly, 744 Rockruff on 12/03/2016
"I said sparkles," sniffed Sylveon, poking Dedenne with a glittering feeler. "Not sparks. What kind of special fairy doesn't know how to sparkle?"
Dedenne screwed up her face, willing herself to dazzle them with shimmering pixie dust. Electricity arced between her whiskers instead.
Sylveon laughed, his feelers still shining. "No sparkles, no moonlight, no mist... just dull, dull, dull."
"It's embarrassing, honestly," twinkled Carbink.
Floette twirled her flower so light danced on its petals. "I bet you don't have any fairy magic at all."
Dedenne cracked her knuckles and used her fairy magic to punch the crap out of them.
Sal was right—the county jail's security was laughable. Noibat fluttered through the open window, careful not to disturb the guard snoring in the chair. Really? This couldn't be easier if the keyring jumped off the man's belt and straight into Sal's waiting hands.
The keyring did not jump into Sal's hands. It did, however, snap awake as soon as Noibat reached for it. Pink light flooded the room and Noibat went screeching right back out into the summer night, leaving Sal cursing in his cell and the gentle jangling of the keys singing the startled guard back to sleep.
Pumpkaboo drifted aimlessly through the harvest fair, too dejected to watch where he was going. Not that it mattered. He was too small for the humans to take much notice, and, according to the other pumpkaboo, too adorable to frighten them anyway.
Drapion tried to console him. "So what if they're super-sized and you're not? I'm sure you can find some other way to be big and scary..."
So far? Nothing. There was nothing here but silly rides and noisy games and that giant blue-ribboned pumpkin—
Pumpkaboo grinned. Now that was super-sized. He and Drapion had some carving to do.
"You're grounded, Harry."
"But Moooom," Harry pleaded, "it was an accident! Jackie was just helping hand out the candy while I went trick-or-treating!"
"Just handing out candy," his mother said. "Right. And I suppose it's a coincidence that she was there to greet Tony Jameson after he picked on you in class."
"Yes! Please don't ground me, Mom—"
"Figure out how to put him back and maybe we'll talk!" She slammed his bedroom door, sighed and went back to the front porch, where her son's gourgeist still had its arms wrapped around Tony's staring, soulless body.
"We're all set!" She slammed her laptop down with a bang that startled Litten right onto the floor. She ignored his growling as he climbed back up to the desk. "You've got a Chatter account, a UxieTube channel and a Facedex fanpage ripe for the liking! You'll be more famous than Sour Skitty!"
Litten glared at her.
"I've got all the videos planned," she continued. "In one you sit in a squirtbottle even though you don't fit, and in another you look like you're playing a poké flute, and..."
Litten smiled thinly, then coughed. The laptop went up in flames.
"Going running with our pokémon is a great idea!" Bailey put her earbuds in and gave Tyrogue a water bottle. "Thanks for inviting us!"
Tanya nodded as she stretched. "Sure! We can always use more company on our runs!"
"Sorry for the wait!" Raoul jogged up to them, still wrestling a bag over his shoulder. "Charjabug and I are ready to go now!"
"Wait, what?" Bailey frowned. "Charjabug? But those can't even move, let alone run..."
Raoul laughed and clipped some wires to Charjabug's mandibles. "What running? I bring him along in my backpack so he can charge my phone!"
Colorless leaves falling
She stopped. What next? She'd thought heartbreak would help her complete her masterpiece, but how to be inspired by despair without just crumbling beneath it?
Brittle petals crumbling
Dust, like my heart, scattered by the breeze
A cutiefly buzzed through the open window and lit by her notebook. Drawn to her overpowering aura of misery, no doubt.
Alone by the night-dark window
A second cutiefly hummed gently by her ear. A third settled on her hand, yellow fuzz tickling her fingers.
She smiled—just a little. "C'mon, guys. I can't finish my poem like this."
"Fetch, Rockruff!" The human heaved the rock across the park and Rockruff rocketed after it. His eyes followed the prize as it sailed overhead, further, further, the furthest throw yet!
The rock disappeared into a stream full of pebbles. Rockruff whined. Which was it? His human would be sad if he didn't fetch a good rock... He glanced at the surrounding stones, searching for an alternative.
The human checked her watch. What was keeping Rockruff?
A boulder the size of her car rumbled toward her. Rockruff rolled it with his paws, tail wagging furiously.
He'd found an even better rock.