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Our "Weird and Wonderful" one-shot contest is now underway! Pokémon are strange and magical creatures, and for our writing contest this year, we want to see you higlight some of their oddest abilities and features! From stories about luxray thieves using X-ray vision to scope out targets to those about trainers bewitching opponents with their stantlers' mystic antlers, any sort of fic featuring a pokémon's unusual lore is welcome! See full details here.
Ohh deathnoodles galore here in draconic and homely poison form no less. If you can't tell i'm a nerd for snakes... all things considered its not too surprising... and these two are adorable.
The pair of parents to be are so real as first time rearers. They're staggering over cultural norms (arboks confessed "we hatch and ditch" vs 'nair's wordless horror at the idea and wrangling with some classism of if the kid's "dragon enough".) Wild vs tamed 'mon world views and them trying to assimulate old life norms/culture verses the more quixotic seeming h7man world...
And, you know, more mundane first time jitters.
Kinda surprised they weren't set up with thier trainer to do a pre parenting to ween/foster a youngling to get some pracitce. Guess the eggbert was a surprise.
I imagine if you had to have a friendship mechanic between mon before breeding them it'd deture so much egg farming. On a less squick note, them both freaking out over the bundle of scales in the incubator is hilarious.
This dragonnair's got plenty of reason to shake off thier home cultures norms (being left for dead by ones neighbors will do that as well as really encourage you to move) but you show it still is a struggle. Ages later there's still some bad tape
Though Nair seems to have found the mute button occasionally it still plays in thier head.
Love how Nair pulls a Wheatly ("i know hacking!" And boinks head into ptoblem until it opens.) And gets it opens in perfect time for them to literally get egg (shell) in thier face.
Imagining the freaked out baby noodle hanging from "dadas" nose was worth a chuckle.. they should be happy thier trainer isn't there, or thier first encounter of the mini scaly kind would of been enshrined on the internet, or at least thuer trainers personal phone for future replaying.
So i did some digging and little wonder boyh parwnts were freaking out. Vua egg moves and breeding ekans born of dragonite/nair parents tend to get the following skill
"Intimidate"
And thier egg move a ekans can get fr9m a dragon is "scary face".
so its little wonder both mon mom and dad weren't hyperventalating post hatching with those moves ect in the cards..
Lovely begining thought train. To eat or not to eat... ones hiding spot... that is the question...
Due to biological differences i suspect all yhe dark and gloomy "stormy night" starts to a stereotypical horror film would be downright homey to our pov.
But then snakes... funnily enough considering my last tale i read. And pne with my favorite design to boot.
The convinece of regular rain and looming greenery made me think the setting might be a rainforest... but the island makes sense too...
I suspect the escape attempt is going to be exciting. Between a lurking preditor and our p.o.v.s lack of stanima,speed, and what i assume is an insane metabolism.
likely small size of our p.o.v. nonewithstanding, bug types in the mon world are horryfying. I'm sure our slimey friend would agree, hopefully he doesnt start a forest fire with his emergency fireburst.
Also, its come up several tines, but whats the diference between dragon fire and fire fire? Besides color i mean.
Ah the classic tired and true, let gravity take over. I'm surprused they didnt clonk themselves out to be honest...
I'm surprised they didnt spit out a last dragon fire harrah to be honest. Granted good thing they didnt, thier savior might of been singed... but the sudden bounce/crush to the attack, and the being rising almost slinky like above after the move, and the colors spied (as well as the theme) make me think this is an alola executor?
Kinda getting a ditzy benign treebeard vibe off of the ally shrub.
Did the descending death via pincer not tip our plant off or...
I wonder if straining to look up us going to cause our p.o.v.bloodflow problems... aka to pass out... or leave thier sense behind...
Well theyre more composed then expected. Brownie points for that...but how arethey going to slime up that cliff to get back to thier peers?
Well i supose thats a post nap problem.
Or considering the clutch of slimey mon is right there... maybe not so much. Huh wild mon being encouragd to be kind. Wonder how far that impulse will spread among our p.o.v.s clan after his story is done?
You know its a fun fanon misconception that x mon is fearless. Tales like this are good reminders that even the scary intimidating ones started as balls of fluff. Or in this ones case, a widdle fire newt.
Between typing and Cynthia i respect Char's fear of garchomp. To quote jaiden animations "That thing was dreamed up by satan, and even he fears what it can do."
Hopping ahead a bit... It seems a bit evil that the "winning" trainer is counting what looks like a full fledged panic attack as a notch on the win score. Just saying...
The fight from our p.o.v. fire lizard seems an exercise in regret. Aka foot in mouth. And considering a 'zard's physiology thats some impressive yoga in play.
Snorts. Garchomps all formal and stern while the firebug is chanting "oh crap, bit off more then i can chew, ah!" I'm surprised they dont go airborn and bolt but its been a pretty short time since evolving... And that oh so justified panic...
So dragonfire mimics burns for firetypes? I'd wager they cringe in sympathy pain the next time they do a fireblast.
Well if battling doesn't become our p.o.v. charizards thing, i guess choir is an option, or perhaps opera?
Love how the charizard is so confident that thier trainer can save them from everything. It shows a sweet young side to them. And i can imagine the trainer having to teach thier char' in all its evolutions to mind thier tail during that snuggle and hide menuver least that gesture lead to accidental burns, loss of pants, and forest fires.
To counter garchomp i would say, "one aware of my chart type/meta" but i suspect my type is sassy where this soul is probably timid.
Winces. Stage fright to the point of puking in public... poor thing that had to have sucked. Still i suspect all this self flagulation is totally unwarented. Thier trainer stuck.with them through that and with more going forward and seems utterly supportive... but i dont think 'zard sees that yet.
Winter wonderland it is not. Guess Gar's acting in accordence to type chart and thier trainer is... not a snow person? Luckily for charizard them and thier trainer are set to stay safely warm if they travel close enough... something that both think of and act on. Though how both trainers didnt think to pack for weather changes is amusing me to no end...
Also by Garchomp's tone you think they were saying that "there are swarms of frosslass and articuno out there!"
Cue 'Zard bracing themselves and getting... an antagonistic snow flake... and being quietly amused at Gar's fear. Shame they don't rematch, a snowball might tip the battle charizards way....
While life had taken a quicker pace in the town itself, especially after the local stadium was built, its surroundings remained as quiet and bucolic as ever.
A stadium? I sense battle as a probable plot point here!
The fact that everything else around is so quiet really helps to zero in on this stadium being THE thing to do in this town. Nice way of highlighting it's importance without directly stating it!
You even stood guard on the same old stand put out for harvest time: a shabby table with a raised ledge at its deep end that you sat on, overlooking cardboard cartons resting at an angle that were stocked with the same red apples that grew year in and year out.
Ah, so our character is the guardian of the apples! Makes sense with the art! I also think it's interesting how you describe the main character as 'you'. You are pulling me into the story with this simple wording tactic. It's pretty cool!
Clearly this 'guardian of the apples' is not new to apple-guarding.
Soda as currency?! Now I'm wondering if they use money.
Thinking about it more, I think you are saying that for the price of one soda, you could pay the same amount of money to purchase 3 apples. So they don't have a system of bartering without any money in this town. Honestly I'm ok with either detail. Bartering would be really nifty as a concept though.
Along with the same clatter of metal against porcelain that jolts you to attention. You raise your eyes briefly from your disguise and see a gray-haired woman dropping some spare change into it before grabbing at one of the apples on the shelf.
The line right after clink but before the next one reads oddly to me. Like it overlaps from the idea of the sound effect and almost seems like the end of the sentence would read better with a comma instead of a period.
Recommendation:
"Clink.
The clatter of metal against porcelain jolts you to attention. You raise your eyes briefly..."
If that recommendation changes the meaning of what you are trying to say, then I feel like it needs some kind of re-wording. As it currently stands, trying to figure out what it is saying is distracting to me. Maybe that is a 'me' problem, but if its like that for me, I would guess it's like that for others potentially too.
Ok, now that I read the second sentence, I can see it's from multiple coins hitting the jar. So, while it certainly clarifies what is happening, it didn't prevent me from tripping myself up trying to read the prior sentence.
As for the content, this is pretty nifty. The guardian is disguised and keeping watch for potential thieves it seems. Also, given the art, I'm pretty sure the guardian is hiding in a red egg that was placed among the apples.
Jealously? Is the guardian employed to keep watch but is paid such a small amount of money that they can't afford apples? Is this slave labor going on here? Is the guardian too young to be able to properly digest apples and thus cannot eat them? Why the jealousy?
If the stories told by your mentor who used to keep watch for the orchard were to be believed, they’d kept this practice alive since the times when humans wore metal armor and fought with blades much as Sirfetch’d do.
I like how this drabble seems to take its time with set up. It may have a small word count being what it is, but it seems to say that it's not about the word count, but the vibe.
Fortunately, the process by which the orchard sold off the part of its stock you watched over was simple to understand: take an apple from the hoard of red fruits set out, and then add some change to the hoard of coins in the cup. A gesture of goodwill and trust to those passers-by.
Except, every year, there were always a handful of travelers that would abuse that trust, and you were pretty sure you could see a few more of their ilk right now from your hiding place: a stocky young man and a gangly girl. The pair were both dressed in black with ridiculous pink hair and face paint.
That was why you were here: to serve as the orchard’s trusted guardian over its little hoard of fruit and coins. The loutish humans hadn’t noticed you yet, and you keep a careful, watchful eye over them as the man reaches for one of the apples and bite into it much to his partner’s skepticism.
Your mentor told you stories in the past of how sometimes it was best to take a gentler approach with passersby who would abuse the trust of the orchard. When they were needy or desperate, or when they’d simply failed to read the sign. Circumstances that merited a stern but patient warning, or sometimes even a blind eye in understanding.
Though from the man’s words and way he was reaching for the coin-hoard in the cup, a gentle approach would clearly not do. You uncoil yourself from your hiding place, a larger apple hiding in plain sight on the raised shelf at the top of the stand, and stretch your neck out to telegraph your warning.
Hiding in a big apple though? Wouldn't that make people try to take that one instead? Maybe it should look like it has a deformity or something so people don't try to touch it.
“Wait, why does it suddenly smell like flowers right now?”
The humans turn and look up at you, with your disguise revealed. You uncoil your body and spread your wings, fanning them wide to make yourself look bigger and remind the pair that even if it was a modest dragon hoard, that it was yours, and that they stole from it at their own peril.
A pokemon that is like an apple I guess? I am unfamiliar with it...
*looks up wiki*
OH from the art, I thought the green part was supposed to look like a horn! I think its supposed to look like a leaf which would make it look like an apple and NOT an egg! That makes sense now!
You narrow your eyes and feel bile build up at the back of your throat after seeing the man pick up the cup. You’d given him fair warning, now it was time to show this would-be thief that you meant business. You spit up a spray of fluid at his coat, which sizzles against the fabric, bubbling up as the acid eats away at its surface. That gets your message across, and the humans’ arrogance quickly evaporates as their eyes shoot wide and they recoil with startled yelps.
“I told you you were supposed to pay for that!” the woman cried. “Let’s get out of here!”
The man hurriedly throws aside his jacket as your acid burns holes into it and the pair take off running down the path, the man dropping his purloined apple along the way. Good riddance, really.
You make your way down from your perch and right the cup and the coin-hoard, carefully returning the loose coins that came out. Then you turn your attention to the jacket and tug at it to move it off the path. No sense in leaving it lying around to make other travelers unsafe and scare them off.
You bite down on a corner and pull it away onto the other side of the road, when you hear a jingling noise. A quick nose into a pocket and search with your claws turns up some coins in it.
You take the coins and add them to the cup, before taking the bitten apple the loutish man abandoned and returning to your perch. For whatever reason, humans had a habit of casting aside perfectly good apples after someone else gave even the littlest of bites to them, but that was hardly a loss for you.
It was back to the same old quiet, watching over the same old stand on the same old lane outside of Turffield. Except now you had a snack as you waited for the next traveler to come by.
And the circle was complete. Ready for the next traveler to arrive. Who is to say how far the family tradition would continue? One thing is certain, the apples of the stand would continue to be guarded all the days of your life in this quiet and timeless land.
Turffield had always been a quiet, humble town, with its rhythms dictated by the growth and harvests of the nurturing bowl of its many terraced farming fields. While life had taken a quicker pace in the town itself, especially after the construction of its stadium, its surroundings remained as quiet and bucolic as ever. And so it was for you that day, on the same old dirt lane, next to the same old apple orchard all under the same old sky under the drifting clouds.
There was even the same old stand that got put out at around harvest time, stocked with the same red apples that grew year in and year out next to the same old sign and chipped cup offering them up for sale. Three for the price of one of those ‘soda pops’ that were all the rage.
The family that ran this orchard had set aside a small portion of their stock every growing season for travelers for years, perhaps for centuries if the stories you’d heard passed down of this field being around back in the times when humans wore metal armor and fought much as a Sirfetch’d might with sword and shield were to be believed. It was a simple enough process, take a piece of the hoard of apples set out, add a piece to the hoard of coins in the cup. A gesture of goodwill and trust to those passers-by.
“Oi, look, there’s free food just lying around there.”
Except, every year, there were always a handful of travelers that would abuse that trust, including the pair of louts in black with ridiculous pink hair and face paint that you could see from your hiding place: a stocky young man, and a gangly girl. That’s why you were there: to serve as the trusted guardian of the little hoard of fruit and coins. The pair hadn’t noticed you yet, and you kept a careful, watchful eye over them as the man reached for one of the apples and bit into it much to his partner’s skepticism.
Your mentor had told you stories of how sometimes it was best to take a gentler approach with ones who would abuse the trust of the orchard. When they were needy or desperate, or when they’d failed to read the sign. Circumstances that merited a patient warning, or sometimes a blind eye in understanding.
“Aren’t you supposed to pay for that first, bruv?”
“I don’t see anyone actually bothering to sell them. And someone just left this money lying around! Finders keepers!”
Though from the way that the man was reaching for the coin-hoard in the cup, a gentle approach would clearly not do. You uncoiled yourself from your hiding place, a larger apple hiding in plain sight on the top of the stand, and stretched your neck out to telegraph your warning.
“Wait, why does it suddenly smell like flowers right now?”
The humans turned and looked up at you, with your disguise revealed, you uncoiled your body and spread your wings with the fiercest roar you could muster…
Judging from the look on the man’s face, you still needed to work a bit on making it sound threatening.
“Ah, it’s just a Flapple,” he scoffed. “What, come here to help yourself to some apples, too?”
You narrowed your eyes and felt bile built up at the back of your throat after seeing the man pick up the cup. You’d given him fair warning, now it was time to show this would-be thief that you meant business. You spat up a spray of fluid at his coat, which made a sizzling noise as it bubbled up from acid eating away at it as the humans’ eyes shot wide.
“Ack! Blimey!”
“I told you you were supposed to pay for that!” the woman cried. “Let’s get out of here!”
The man hurriedly threw aside his jacket as your acid bored holes into it and the pair took off running down the path, the man dropping his purloined apple along the way. Good riddance, really. You righted the cup and the coin-hoard, carefully returning the loose coins that came out. Then you turned your attention to the jacket and tugged at it to move it off the path. No sense in scaring away other travelers with it. You bit down on a corner and tugged it away onto the other side of the road, when you heard a jingling noise. A quick search of a pocket revealed some coins in it. Enough to have bought at least three of the stand’s apples had the man just been honest.
You took the coins and added them to the cup, before taking the bitten apple and returning to your perch. For whatever reason, humans would turn up perfectly good apples even after a little bite, but that was hardly a loss for you.
It was back to the same old quiet, watching over the same old stand on the same old lane outside of Turffield. Except now you had a snack as you waited for the next travelers to come by.
It's interesting to read the original too. I love what you did with everything you added to the current version by comparison!
Summary:
So, this story has a sense of rich timeless vibe to it. Great care goes into how the apple stand is ran. It is a place of understanding and charity but not without the means to defend itself lest the stand be ruined and that it would no longer serve those it was put there to serve.
As my first introduction to your writing style, Spiteful, I must say I am impressed with your writing ability and found this to be a worthwhile read! Thank you for posting!
