Set 16 of the pokédex 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 (400 total)
Newest Additions: 784 Kommo-o, 790 Cosmoem on 12/03/2022
"Oh! Bounsweet!" Sanford scooped up his pokémon seconds before the staravia grabbed it. Bounsweet glared at Staravia as it flew off. Then she glared at Sanford.
"Sorry," laughed Sanford. "I didn't realize! I thought you were having fun!"
Bounsweet grumbled, wriggled free and bounced away. Sanford smiled. "She's so adorable when she runs!"
Sanford had just settled down for lunch by the lake when a gyarados erupted from the water beside him. He screamed and ran. The hungry gyarados slithered out of the lake in hot pursuit.
Bounsweet, perched on Gyarados's head, smiled. He was so adorable when he ran.
Mimikyu sneered as he rifled through the dumpster. The others could copy those played-out pikachu all they liked. Couldn't those simpletons see that no one cared about those twitchy little rats anymore?
What the kids really loved these days was charizard! Massive, majestic, warm, powerful, super cool... if he could just find a charizard disguise, he'd be adored more than any mimikyu or pikachu ever was!
That was the plan, anyway. Seven dumpsters and he hadn't seen any old toys or so much as an orange sheet. Just trashbags, trashbags, trashbags...
...What the kids really loved these days was trubbish!
Kommo-o hears the intruder before she sees them, so they hear her bell-song first as well. She drums her tail against the ground, each note ringing sharp through stone and air. The warning-song of a warrior whose fists strike true as each tone.
She lopes out and looks... down?... at a tiny yellow ball. The chingling, unafraid, trills out, clarion and sweet: not the discordant clatter-clash of dragon challenge-song, but...
Curious, Kommo-o tolls again, the chingling's tune a matching melody. The chingling smiles; so does she. They ring a little bell-song as they head in together—not battle-song, but friend-song.
The little star sleeps, motionless and silent, the weight of uncertainty pressing down upon it. Its tiny galaxies twist and tumble as it dreams of the song of rising. Will the little points that burn within brighten, shining so fiercely that the sky turns dazzling blue? Will the spinning clouds inside spread out like a dark and fluttering cloak, so it might slip softly through the night? To call to the sun, or to dance with the moon? It dreams and dreams and can't decide, the future melody too faint to guess.
The little star sleeps, and waits, and dreams.