Pokémon ⋆quaxwell⋆☆⋆happiny⋆☆⋆bergmite⋆ × completed drabble collection ×

[lichhen]

o x o TR anniversary 2023 drabble bingo o x o

Spoiler: my bingo card made by Torchic

I will be attempting to write three 100-word drabbles. They will likely be part of a larger story that I write about in my fanfiction, We'll Meet At The Lighthouse. It is an AU of Mewtwo's story, about Bill and Lt. Surge, who were kind of like side characters.

Spoiler: drawings of bill sonezaki for reference <3

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drabble collection summary: all connected, these snippets are glimpses at the characters Bill, Quaxwell, Happiny, and Bergmite, as they each travel the mountain range between Pewter and Cerulean.

drabble #1
prompt:
"The hardworking Quaxwell observes people and Pokémon from various regions
and incorporates their movements into its own dance routines." - Quaxwell, Violet
Quaxwell​

Navy feathers swept in shards around Quaxwell, over starfish beak, and otherwise obscuring his face and body; thick tufts stuck out of his chest and lower arms, reaching the ground, unusually long. Jewels were scattered among his down. Quaxwell burst through fog.

His own hatred seized his head, slamming it into a tree. Bark shattered, a vein exposed at the side of the mountain.

At the nape of his neck, a swollen pink flower cried a tear from the Cerulean lagoon.

Following, Bill wheeled Magikarp in an O2-Rider, collecting bark to place in the cart. “That doesn’t…. hurt, does it?”

drabble #2
a continution of "Quaxwell"
prompt:
"In imitation of Chansey, it keeps a round stone tucked into its belly pouch and cherishes it dearly.
It gets along well with children and will sometimes play house with them for fun." - Happiny, Legends: Arceus
Happiny​

Dried loam slipped beneath the Rider’s tires along the steep mountainside. Magikarp traveled by tank the size of a small jeep. A filter pumped albuterol into the saline solution around her.

Quaxwell stopped in a plateaued clearing; a graveyard of fallen trees.

They would stay the night warmed by wood rot. Quaxwell needed to train before sleep.

Jagged dance moved his body in ceremonial mourning. Reluctantly, Bill formed a tent of bark around Quaxwell once he stilled.

Happiny approached, pulling his favorite glittering gray quartz from his pouch.

He struck sparks from the stone to set the dead wood aflame.

drabble #3
another continution
prompt:
"They live in mountainous regions of frigid cold. On rare occasions, they ride on the
back of an Avalugg to cross seas and move to new habitats." - Bergmite, Scarlet
Bergmite​

Mount Statitik was patched in snow.

Bill watched Quaxwell’s nightly ceremonial dance, "Danafojura." He worried the long-feathered nestling would be forever altered. Burned, traumatized, scarred.

But Quaxwell burst from flame and danced the blaze into earth, celebrating with feet and fists.

As Quaxwell danced, cracks through the icy floor opened and sighed frost over Bill’s eyelashes.

Plates of earth shuffled and rose impossibly beneath them; Bill dove for Quaxwell, separated from the others by a sudden snowy chasm.

A herd of bergmite, each the size of an oran tree, were placidly carrying Bill and Quaxwell along to their next nap.

 

[Spiteful Murkrow]

Heya, was going around to look for some light fare to review tonight, and I figured that I’d give yours a shot, especially since you took the (relatively) rare approach of trying to stick to the 100-word definition of a drabble, so it made me curious what you managed to fit into them in such constraints:

Quaxwell

Spoiler

Navy feathers swept in shards around Quaxwell, over starfish beak, and otherwise obscuring his face and body; thick tufts stuck out of his chest and lower arms, reaching the ground, unusually long. Jewels were scattered among his down. Quaxwell burst through fog.

Wait, is that meant to be water kicking up around him while running? Or else what are those jewels and stuff?

His own hatred seized his head, slamming it into a tree. Bark shattered, a vein exposed at the side of the mountain.

At the nape of his neck, a swollen pink flower cried a tear from the Cerulean lagoon.

Is Quaxwell an interpretative dancer? Since this feels a bit like interpretative dancing right now.

Following, Bill wheeled Magikarp in an O2-Rider, collecting bark to place in the cart. “That doesn’t…. hurt, does it?”

>O2-Rider

Oh, so it’s basically a breathing apparatus for fishmons, I take it? Or am I misinterpreting what that’s supposed to be?

Quaxwell: “Gee, what do you think, buddy?”

Happiny

Spoiler

Dried loam slipped beneath the Rider’s tires along the steep mountainside. Magikarp traveled in a tank the size of as big as a small jeep. A filter pumped albuterol into the saline solution around her.

You were missing a word before “tank” so I gave a suggestion for a rephrasing to still keep the 100-word cap.

Quaxwell stopped in a plateaued clearing; a graveyard of fallen trees.

They would stay the night warmed by wood rot. Quaxwell needed to train before sleep.

Wait, what on earth killed all those trees in that clearing anyways?

Jagged dance moved his body in ceremonial mourning. Reluctantly, Bill formed a tent of bark around Quaxwell once he stilled.

Happiny approached, pulling his favorite glittering gray quartz from his pouch.

He struck sparks from the stone to set the dead wood aflame.

Huh, I wouldn’t have pegged Happiny to be the types to start fires by striking flints/stones that can kick up sparks, but that actually does make a good deal of sense considering how they’re always going around with one. Unless that’s Bill who started the fire, in which case, you should probably make one of those ‘his’es a ‘Bill’ to be explicit.

Bergmite

Spoiler

Mount Statitik was patched in snow.

>Statitik

I went and looked this up and apparently it’s Joltik’s French localization name. Wasn’t expecting that for the name of a mountain.

Bill watched Quaxwell’s nightly ceremonial dance, "Danafojura." He worried the long-feathered nestling would be forever altered. Burned, traumatized, scarred.

Wait, what is ‘Danafojura’ there? Since I couldn’t turn up any hits for that search term on Bulbapedia.

But Quaxwell burst from flame and danced the blaze into earth, celebrating with feet and fists.

As Quaxwell danced, cracks through the icy floor opened and sighed frost over Bill’s eyelashes.

On the one hand, I kinda get the vibe that Bill should be a bit more worried right now, but this is just another Tuesday for him, huh?

Plates of earth shuffled and rose impossibly beneath them; Bill dove for Quaxwell, separated from the others by a sudden snowy chasm.

A herd of bergmite, each the size of an oran tree, were placidly carrying Bill and Quaxwell along to their next nap.

Boy would that be quite the shock to wake up to there.

Well, that was a bit of a breezy read, and I think that these drabbles turned out quite well @lichhen . Like, I can’t level that much criticism since there’s only so much you can tell with 100 words, but they do their job and give coherent snapshots, and are fun to see in action, especially with Quaxwell’s different dance routines.

Dunno how long it’ll take, but I suppose this is a sign for me to check out your other fare, since I’m a bit curious as to what your writing looks like now when it’s a bit less constrained than this. Hope the feedback was fun to read, and thanks for writing this. ^^