Set 9 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 (1300 total)
Newest Additions: 425 Drifloon, 428 Lopunny, 434 Stunky, 437 Bronzong, 438 Bonsly, 442 Spiritomb on 12/03/2016
"It's got an awfully big head." Telly gave Roger's new cranidos a funny look.
"It's to leave room for their big brains," Roger boasted. "Cranidos were some of the smartest pokémon in the prehistoric world!" He patted Cranidos's dome proudly.
Telly sneered. "Yeah, right. That's definitely not true. It's all solid bone and rock, isn't it? There's probably barely any room for brain at all—oof!"
Cranidos surged forward and slammed into Telly's gut, driving the wind out of him and knocking him to the floor.
Roger's grin never wavered. "It's also useful for shutting up people who disagree with me."
Rampardos stands at one end of the arena, his usual bored expression intact as the latest gym leader makes his choice. He'd hoped his trainer wouldn't make him face more dull opponents, but now he'll be smashing his head against yet another disappointingly doughy drifblim or slippery gyarados. Where's the fun in headbutting targets that just squish under pressure?
White light twists into the squat, heavy shape of the gym leader's next pokémon, and Rampardos snaps to attention. The face that squints at him is broad, solid, made of unforgiving stone and steel.
Finally—something challenging to crash into.
Bastiodon yawns as he emerges from his poké ball. In the few moments before his vision resolves he wonders whether Byron's just as bored. The last few challengers were utterly laughable, buzzing mothim and jingling chimecho alike all pinging uselessly off of his indestructible shield. He hadn't even felt that chatot's attempt to divebomb him. Why bother facing opponents who can't so much as scratch you?
His eyes finally adjust and he squints at his next challenger, scrutinizes the heavy skull crowned with spikes and the powerful legs meant for charging headlong into battle.
Finally—something worth standing up to.
She cursed after slipping on another trail of ooze. Shellos, shellos everywhere, and not one had the decency to be shiny. All week she'd scoured Route 205, and all week she'd seen nothing but the same dull pink with none of the sparkle her sister wanted.
She slumped into a sitting position, ignoring the slime, and reviewed her pokédex. She checked the shiny shellos photo to be sure she hadn't missed one... and stopped when she saw the image next to it.
A five year old wouldn't know the difference between a shiny shellos and an East Sea one, right?
The family huddles around the grave. Drifloon listens behind a stone angel. They tell funny stories, sad ones, sweet ones. The children smile and sniffle, holding balloon strings tight.
They let go of their balloons. The family walks away.
Pop! One balloon snags a tree branch.
Pop! A spearow blunders into one beak-first.
Whoosh! A gust blows the last toward the angel's broken wing—
Drifloon grabs it. He floats away from the points and snares, then sends it on its way again in the open sky.
Drifloon doesn't know what's up that high. He hopes the balloon will see it.
Hawlucha shattered the ice encasing his leg. Free at last, but Glalie was already preparing another attack...
His trainer sighed. Of all the rotten luck. She should've used her lucky rabbit's foot!
A howling storm of ice and snow from Glalie's corner knocked Hawlucha down, covered his wings and pinned him to the ground. Frozen again? Seriously?
"All right, enough already. It's time for us to turn our luck around!" She recalled her struggling hawlucha and tossed another poké ball into the ring.
Lopunny burst from the ball with a flying leap and jump kicked Glalie out of the arena.
Glameow snarled, hissed, twisted and spat, but try as he might he could not escape the woolly embrace of the dreaded kitty sweater. It wasn't even cold out, dammit, and here his trainer was forcing him into this straitjacket of pink fluff and polka dots and garish giggling buneary. Right before a battle, even! He could just see the snover across the field mocking him with its gaze. How embarrassing—
The snover's ice beam hit him dead on and frost covered his chest, only the laughing buneary saving his body from the harsh, biting chill.
Glameow loved his kitty sweater.
All in all, Purugly thought, the evolution had worked out well. He'd put on a few extra pounds, true, but he wasn't the fattest purugly he knew, and best of all he no longer fit into that ghastly pink kitty sweater. Without the extra weight and the restrictive sweater he could really move, dancing around the abomasnow's ice beams with practiced ease.
The abomasnow changed tack, stopped trying to aim at its slippery target and covered the field with a vicious blizzard, sweeping Purugly off his feet and all but burying him in the snow.
Purugly missed his kitty sweater.
Buneary rushed through the forest, eager to get back to his warren and relax. He hurried over rocks and under fallen trees and around holes—and right into a passing stunky.
"Hey!" barked the stunky, spinning around to face him. "You there!" The stunky stood on its front paws and raised its bottom into the air.
"Ack!" Buneary backpedaled and raised his arms to protect his face. "Sorry, sorry, don't spray me!"
"What?" asked the stunky, still mid-handstand. "Spray you? No, no, I just wanted to show someone the sick new trick I just learned!"
And the stunky cartwheeled away.
The people raised their arms to the sky and prayed.
The bronzong lifted its arms alongside them, its body ringing in time with the prayers of the people. The air above it rippled and split open. Dark clouds streamed from the portal and up toward the heavens.
Raindrops splashed the earth. The people rejoiced. Harvest would be bountiful once again.
Far away, people howled in frustration as the air rippled and split open. The dark clouds that had gathered at last after months of drought were sucked through the portal as quickly as they'd come.
Harvest would fail once again.
"Yeah, I'm gonna start growing bonsai!" said Xavier. "I found my first one sitting near the gardening store. It's got such an unusual shape and a neat little pot!"
Marley frowned at its rounded leaves and branches. "It seems kinda weird."
"It's decorative, it's supposed to grow like that! Although I guess it is harder to trim than I'd thought it would be..."
He took his clippers and snipped at a leaf. The blades glanced off as though he'd tried cutting into rock.
Water—almost like tears—streamed from the bonsai's trunk.
"It's self-watering, too!" said Xavier. "Isn't that awesome?"
Spiritomb hovered out of the graveyard, laughing darkly and not caring who heard. At last, at long, long last, his plan had come to fruition! By banishing one of his old spirits and replacing it with the hapless shedinja he'd snared, he would take on the shedinja's mystical invincibility! No one could stop him from exacting terrible retribution against those who had imprisoned all his souls!
A clefairy skipped by. What luck! This pathetic creature would be the first to witness his new, impervious—
Clefairy smiled, summoned a sphere of glittering moonlight, and blasted Spiritomb right back into his keystone.
Still nothing. She's been looking for at least half an hour but can't see him anywhere, so she decides it's time to shut her eyes tight. The forest fades away, replaced by the spectrum of heat and colors she senses only when her eyes are closed, and with paws outstretched she moves toward a faint blueish spot. Focusing is hard—nose itches, tail twitches, something smells tasty over there—but she ignores it all as she draws closer, the blue glows brighter, she has to find him—
She reaches behind the tree, touches his back and, grinning, says, "You're it!"