Set 2 of 18 of the 890 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 (1600 total)
Newest Additions: 068 Machamp, 093 Haunter on 12/03/2019
Meowth perched by the window to watch the sunset. The stars were coming soon.
What were stars? "Lights," his mother said. The humans never understood his questions. All he did know: stars were small, sparkly, and looked perfect for batting around with a paw.
Stars were also very far away. The one time he'd been outside he'd stretched up, up, up, and still hadn't touched them. So he sat by the window and watched as they twinkled into the night sky one by one.
Stars were better than his shiniest toys. He'd find a way to play with them someday.
Alex settled down on the lakeside bench. What a beautiful day to have lunch outside! Sun shining, water sparkling, pidgey chirping and psyduck paddling about...
He fished bread, cucumbers and cold cuts out of his basket, then tossed a few crumbs out for the pokémon.
A webbed hand shot out of the water, grabbed Alex's leg and dragged him into the lake. Alex kicked furiously, fighting to reach the surface.
A golduck's face appeared beneath him. Its gemstone flashed as it spoke telepathically, then pointed to his hand with a free claw.
Give me the cucumber sandwich and you live.
Zahrah flailed about wildly, struggling to deflect the persistent mankey. She'd never make it to town with this thing crawling all over her. She needed a distraction...
...and had just the thing for one. She wrenched the poké doll free from her backpack and heaved it into the bushes. The mankey charged after it.
Heck if Zahrah knew why poké dolls worked on wilds, but no point in questioning it. She hurried down the road.
Behind the bushes, the mankey snatched up the doll and grinned. At last, one of this year's Princess Clefairy Friends to add to his collection!
Primeape took a deep breath, made sure he was alone, and settled down to read.
"Hey, is anyone—"
Primeape jumped. So did the aipom that peeked into the clearing. "Ack! I'm so sorry, I didn't know, please don't beat me up—"
"Beat you up? I'm supposed to be angry just because you're here?" Primeape sighed. "That's a ridiculous stereotype. Stay quiet while I'm reading and you're fine."
Aipom smiled nervously. "That's a relief. What are you reading, anyway?" She saw the cover, then laughed. "Is that... Baby Buneary's Happiest Birthday?"
Ten seconds later Primeape was chasing her through the forest.
Fireworks! Growlithe and Emmy were gonna see fireworks! Growlithe didn't know what fireworks were, but Emmy described colors and sparkles and patterns waaay up in the sky, and that. Sounded. Great!!!
So they settled on a blanket outside and gazed up into the night.
Growlithe squealed. What was that noise? Why did the colors have to come with noise that was everywhere and terrifying and she just wanted to go home?
Emmy laughed, hugged Growlithe tight, plonked some earmuffs on Growlithe's head.
Growlithe, pressed against Emmy's chest, wagged her tail. Fireworks were great! Color, sparkles, patterns and no noise.
Rajesh tried hard to focus on his quarry, but his mind kept wandering to his family's upcoming move to Alola. Supposedly there were unusual variations of certain pokémon there, like icy vulpix and electric geodude. Maybe they even had unusual abra. He'd been out here trying to catch one for months; maybe he should just wait until after the move?
What type might Alolan abra be? Fire? Grass? Perhaps even fighting or dark, something entirely unlike a mystical psychic?
The abra Rajesh had been tracking all day disappeared into thin air.
Rajesh sighed. That sure would be nice, wouldn't it?
All things considered, there were certainly worse pokémon Edgar could've turned into. Imagine trying to hug his sister with the rancid, sticky arms of a muk, or what the family persian might be tempted to do if he went back home as a rattata. At least this way he still had psychic powers, maybe even stronger than they'd been before. At least this way he could still attend his classes and not worry about trouble during exams because he couldn't grasp a pencil.
At least this way he finally had the epic mustache he'd been trying to grow for years.
Rattata squinted at the borrowed spoon. "Why do you always carry these around? Like, are they for doing that thing where you bend the spoon without bending the spoon?" He tried to bend it in half with his paws.
Alakazam scoffed. "That trite little parlor trick? Heavens, no. These are not mere spoons, Rattata. They are psychic amplifiers! They allow me to focus my formidable mental powers and manipulate things with twice the potency!"
Rattata frowned. "That's cool, I guess. But can you do this?"
He blew on the spoon bowl and balanced it on the end of his nose.
Caleb's neighbors invited him to the winter's first snowball fight. He and his tyrogue sat by their team's fort, packing mounds of slushballs.
"Hey, wait for us! We're gonna play, too!" Darla shouted.
"Darla—" started Caleb's friend, but the other team cut him off. "Darla's on our side!"
Caleb's team groaned.
"What's wrong?" Caleb asked. "Aren't our teams even now?"
"Not if she brought her dad's pokémon," they said.
A machamp joined Darla behind the other fort. It grabbed four snowballs, flung them across the yard and flattened four kids, one after another.
Caleb wiped snow from his face. "Oh."
Rapidash surged forward beneath the trestle, straining to keep pace with the magnet train as it roared overhead. He couldn't hear his own hoofbeats for all its deafening thunder, but he didn't care—it could go but he could go faster, go farther—
He skidded to a halt as the trestle continued over a lake he could not cross and an impenetrable forest not made for running. His rival barreled blindly onward to he didn't know where, off to a mysterious finish line far out of his reach.
For now, he thought as he watched it disappear into the distance.
Seven whole hours she'd slaved away at the Lilycove Contest Hall, dumping in aguav berries and grepa berries and belue berries and generally hogging the blender until the staff finally had to ask her to leave. The towering armful of green pokéblocks she'd staggered back home with was worth it, though. The candy would make her star pokémon the cleverest around, and they'd take the contest world by storm!
"Here they are!" she trilled as she dumped them on the table in front of her partner. "Eat up, buddy, and then we'll start our contest training for real!"
"Ready for battle, everyone? Let's open with a hearty tri attack!"
"But what if it tries to burn him? I don't think he can be burned..."
"I hate when they can't be burned! Let's teach this unburnable jerk a lesson!"
"Okay, yeah! Brave bird would be good for that!"
"I don't wanna get hurt... can't we hide with double team instead?"
"Hiding sucks! I say we thrash 'im!"
"All that thrashing around is confusing..."
"Fine, you big baby. We'll just whale on him while he's holding still!"
"Yeah, that's a good plan! What if we froze him with tri attack?"
Grimer panicked as she fumbled around, searching desperately for the shuca berry she knew had to be somewhere. Where had it gone? She was certain she'd brought it to the battle with her. She'd had it right in her hand, clutched as tight as she could so it'd be sure to adhere, and—
The cubone was already winding up for another bonemerang. Grimer threw her hands up defensively and felt something shifting inside her forearm as she did. She moaned and cursed her death grip on the now buried berry. What she wouldn't give for something to get it unstuck...
The Breezy Acres subdivision was renowned for its residents' fabulous gardens. Every lawn was an explosion of fragrance and color, roses and hydrangeas and lilies and a dozen things far more exotic. Not Marlow's lawn, though. Marlow could barely pronounce 'heuchera', let alone keep one alive.
It didn't help that the neighbors had perfect pokémon for tending to gardens, either. A florges over here, a roserade over there, a meganium down the street... His pokémon couldn't help his garden look better than the others'.
...Or could she?
"Hey, Muk... what say we take tonight's stroll right by the neighbors' yards?"
He pulled his catch aboard, ignoring the blue fins circling his boat, and grinned when the shellder noticed the king's rock perched atop his head. Soon he'd be as smart as a slowking—the bivalve pokémon would be drooling string theory, the meaning of life and the answers to tomorrow's test right into his brain.
The shellder clamped down far harder than he'd anticipated, the pain and sudden weight startling him right into the water. He struggled and splashed, and as the waiting sharpedo closed in he had his brightest thought of the day:
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
"Come," intoned the mystic. Chairs flew out from the table. Ezra and Typhlosion sat down.
The mystic chanted as the seance began. Dark fog overhead twisted into the vague shape of a torso, hands, a face.
"Ezra..." croaked the apparition. "So good to see you again..."
Ezra's eyes widened. "Grandma! I've missed you so much!"
"I've missed you, Ezra. And dear Typhlosion, too..."
Ezra sighed. "Right. Typhlosion?"
Typhlosion torched the ghost. Grandma—now a haunter—screamed, then fled.
"Grandma hated Typhlosion, you fraud," Ezra hissed.
The mystic grumbled as he returned Ezra's money. "I told Haunter not to make assumptions..."