Third Anniversary Drabble Bingo

[SparklingEspeon]

Next batch!

@unrepentantAuthor I assume by frontier you meant Western, so here's an American Frontiers card!

Gunslinger​	Flaafy Ranch​	Outlaw Mission​
Hot Sun and Tumbleweeds​	The Final Frontier​	A Long Road Ahead​
Silly Hats and Lassos​	Midday Duel​	Partners​

@DawningWinds Here's a general-themed card for you!

Self Care​	Town Borders​	Rare Pokemon!​
Unexpected Detour​	Out With a Bang​	Beauty Unmatched​
Lost​	Darkness​	Escape​

 

[Panoramic_Vacuum]

Three by-the-book drabbles for a bingo in my right-hand column:

Spoiler: Eon Flute

Steven walks by the artifact every day. It sits in a glass case in his living room; proudly displayed alongside the other precious items in his personal collection. He’d unearthed it on an island in the south of Hoenn, and while he was never as enamored with archaeology as he was with geology, he was still fascinated by the flute. This morning, as he eyes the delicate wing-like carvings of red and blue, he pauses. Should he?

The beach behind his Mossdeep home is quiet. He brings the flute to his lips and blows. Across the water, the wind replies.

Spoiler: Primal Reversion

Without warning, a thunderclap splits the clear blue sky. The pillar of light that rises from the ocean stands as a warning, though few truly heed it. A freak weather event, some call it, produced by rising hot air and a pocket of cold. But soon all of Hoenn realizes this is not an isolated event. Even if they had seen the signs, little could be done in the face of the primal beasts. For the sky weeps, and the earth wails, and two titans rise from their slumbers to return the earth to its original form; tumultuous and barren.

Spoiler: Mossdeep Space Center

For a region firmly anchored at sea level, the heavens always felt close in Hoenn. Though their history and traditions were rugged, shaped by land and sea, the Space Center —a monument to modern Ho’ani achievement— was never scorned or ridiculed. It stood as a tribute to the unexplored, gilded in steel and copper and aluminum.

Some might consider man’s desire to touch the stars an act of hubris. But to every child in Hoenn, the Space Center stood as a symbol of their hopes and dreams, never tethered to the earth, allowed to fly free through the night sky.

 

[Spiteful Murkrow]

Delivering a drabble blackout for my "Like a Dragon" card, even if I'm pretty sure that some of these are pushing it for the definition of a "drabble" and may or may not be a bit of a reach relative to their prompts. Posting them here, since it's all essentially a giant rough draft, and I had enough fun with them that I'd like a chance to properly review and polish (and maybe expand) these drabbles before submitting them onto the fanfic forum proper in some capacity:

Spoiler: Charizard

You skid back along the ground as a wintery chill fills the air, panting frightenedly as you hear a bellowing roar. Your tail fire burns fierce, not with determination, but from fright, as your quivering wings remind you, as the Garchomp dives at you.

Your claws abruptly erupt with green dragonfire, as you rake the Garchomp and drive her back as you try to think where on earth things went wrong. Was it when you grew nervous about being a stranger in a distant land and tried to puff yourself up? Was it you letting your last evolution from about a month ago get to your head, making you think that those days of cowering from a big and scary-feeling world were over?

“Have at you!”

You look up just in time to see the Garchomp dive at you wreathed in dragonfire. You feel burning pain—Charizard aren’t supposed to feel burning pain—as the world spins around you and you flop into the dirt. You lay there stunned for a moment, when you feel yourself get pinned and see a flash of claws and razor-like teeth above you.

“AAAAAAAH!”

You’re pretty sure that Charizard aren’t supposed to scream at that octave. Nor are they supposed to beg for mercy like you find yourself doing. The Garchomp hesitates a moment when she heeds a human voice and lets go of you.

You don’t bother to wait to find out if the battle’s been decided or not. You scrabble to your feet, and over to a young human man waiting for you at your end of the field. You duck behind him with a low whine, much as you had when things went wrong as a Charmeleon, and more times than you can remember when the same happened to you as a Charmander. Except this time you have wings which you crane around to try and shield your head.

You're pretty sure Charizard aren’t supposed to do that either. You feel pats at your snout and look down to see your trainer. He’s obviously disappointed, but doesn’t say much other than to make sure that you’re alright before going off to meet a human woman with green hair with an orange suit. The Garchomp’s trainer, and the human that you’re pretty sure you just lost your trainer a chunk of pocket money to.

The two trainers meet in the center and exchange a few money and items. You follow after yours, and the Garchomp after hers. You try to avoid eye contact with her, but you can see her scowling at you

“Hrmph, next time, don’t run your mouth off for a challenge if you can’t back it up,” the Garchomp scoffs. “‘Might of a dragon’, what a crock! Even if Charizard were dragons, what sort of dragon would act like you?”

You hang your head at the Garchomp’s words. You don’t have an answer to the question.

---

About an hour later, you’re in the backroom of a Pokécenter, getting a few lingering scrapes that the machines couldn’t treat touched up. Sinnoh is a distant land for you and your trainer, but in some respects, it feels an awful lot like your home back in Kanto. The Pokémon by and large speak the same language. As do the humans. They even have human nurses and the Chansey that look about the same and work the same as they do in Kanto.

“All patched up and back to normal,” the Chansey tells you. “You should be good to go and ready to battle after a day’s rest.”

“Th-Thanks, I guess.”

And back in Kanto, you might have puffed yourself out to make yourself look stronger and tougher. Except… it was hard seeing much of a point of doing now. You didn’t want to think about that too much, and just go back into your Pokéball until your trainer was done traveling around Sinnoh and you could go home.

You shuffled off for the front as the events of the battle kept playing over and over for you. It was the first one since evolving where you’d been worried at the outset, but you were supposed to have left that behind as a Charizard.

You supposed that it wasn’t that uncommon for a Charmander to cry and try to hide when they were afraid like you had done on more occasions than you could remember. You supposed that throwing up out of fright and costing your trainer a Gym Challenge by fleeing the battlefield like you did the first time you faced down Brock’s Onix wasn’t common for Charmeleon, but it was at least understandable. Onix were gigantic compared to Charmeleon, and even if they often weren’t as tough as they looked, they looked downright terrifying when you were the size of a young human child and your fire struggled against them.

B-But Charizard were supposed to be big and strong! To face any challenge to the bitter end! So why when you found himself outmatched, why did you still find himself reacting like you had so often as a Charmander or Charmeleon when you felt overwhelmed?

You pass the front desk and spot your trainer. You stiffen up and wince a moment, before turning your head away with a low whine. There weren’t a whole lot of other ways that you could’ve embarrassed yourself worse than you had today. How could he not be disappointed that all this time later, you were still the same cowardly lizard at heart?

Except, you feel a pat at your neck and hear your trainer speak to you. You don’t follow all of the words in his tongue, but he sounds… apologetic? For forcing more than you were prepared for?

You don’t know what to make of that. Other than that your trainer clearly didn’t know enough about Charizard. Why else would he just be unbothered by a pathetic failure like the one you had earlier today.

Your trainer tugs at you and motions off at the hallway where the lodging in the Pokécenter is. You follow along past the door and stiffen up after seeing the Garchomp and her trainer walk in, the Dragon-type growling under her breath about how frigid things feel outside.

You hurry along with a quiet squeak and hurriedly shuffle your trainer along. The air from outside did feel a bit cold. Maybe you won’t go into your Pokéball just yet. After a day like today, the least you can do to try and make things up to your trainer is to try and keep the cold at bay.

---

The next day, you and your trainer wake up and leave your cramped room in the Pokécenter. Your trainer doesn’t say anything about feeling cold, which you find relieving. You don’t know how you’d feel if you managed to fail at that overnight.

The two of you make your steps back to the lobby, as you stretch and bat your wings in the hallway to get your blood flowing. You paw at your eyes, and you immediately notice something wrong. All along the windows outside, you can see frost and white flurries, as you realize that it’s…

“S-Snow?! B-But it’s supposed to be the first month of spring!”

You stand there with your mouth agape, as one of the Chansey that work here happens to pass by with her human nurse and turns to you with a click of her tongue.

“Not from around here, are you?” she asks. “Cold snaps in early spring are as Sinnohan as a Mild Poffin!”

… You will have to take her word for it, since you haven’t had any Poffins in this region yet. But the Normal-type seems to be onto something. Most of the trainers with Pokémon that aren’t common to this region seem to have gotten caught unawares by the sudden cold. As have a handful of trainers with Pokémon from this region.

“You’re kidding me. One night and this is what I wake up to?”

Including the Garchomp and her trainer. The Dragon-type stares out the window grimacing with visible dread, an expression that her trainer seems to mimic. You glance over briefly and stiffen up after the Garchomp notices you from the corner of her eye, and turns with a toothy frown.

“Oh, it’s you again. I see your trainer didn’t pack for this weather either.”

You cast a glance over at your trainer and see that he too is grimacing at the sight of the frost and the flurries outside. Right. He had been planning his trip around there being spring weather in Sinnoh. You could handle a little cold with your tail flame and the fire in your belly, but humans certainly didn’t have those.

You go up to the window and peer through it, your breath fogging up the glass. You rub it away, when amidst the snow and the flurries, you spot a small shop with icons in the shape of human clothing. You go over and tug at your trainer, who points it out to the Garchomp’s trainer. You let the pair talk things over with each other as you make your way to the door, and the Garchomp does a double-take at you.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Going over to help my trainer get proper clothes, what else?” you explain. “He’ll freeze if he tries to travel in this weather like this!”

The Garchomp cocks a brow, before turning her snout up with an unimpressed snort.

“Whatever, it’s your burial out there.”

For a moment, you waver at the Garchomp’s retort. She is the native. Does she know something about these snows that you don’t? Your trainer makes his way to the door, and calls for you.

You hesitate briefly, before shaking your head and making your way forward. No matter what those snows hold, you aren’t going to let your trainer face them alone. And you wouldn’t have to be a Charizard to conclude that.

And so you make your way to the doors, and feel the icy air blow in your face. You see your trainer visibly shiver and pull him to your side and under your wing and suck in a sharp breath.

“It’s just down the street. It’s just down the street.”

And so, you set off into the winter cold together. Your partner firmly at your side.

---

Fifteen minutes later, you have returned along with your trainer freshly garbed in winter wear, with a second set extra to boot. Your trainer passes it along to the Garchomp’s and the pair exchange money as you brush some water off your scales from melted snow. When you feel a pat at your shoulder and look down at your trainer.

… He’s thanking you. For looking out for him back there.

You stare at him for a moment as he goes off to the counter to check out and can’t help but feel a hint of pride, when it dawns on you.

All this time, you two have gotten as far as you had by looking out for each other when you were weak or stumbled. It was your trainer that calmed you down when you were scared, who helped you work up the bravery to eventually best Brock’s Onix in battle. And you were there to look out for him at times like these when he just needed a warm body to help stand and shield him.

“... How on earth can you just be okay with that awful weather?”

You turn to your right and see the Garchomp staring at you slack jawed. She… honestly still scares you, but you don’t flinch this time. Seeing the way she flinches from a little snow helps put things in perspective.

You suppose that in a way the Garchomp was right yesterday. You aren’t a dragon, or at least not in the same sense as her. But… for the things that really count, does it matter?

And with a shaky, flustered grin, you speak up and answer her.

“Because I’m not a dragon like you, and I don’t know if I ever will be. But I’m sure like one for my friends.”

Spoiler: Dragons’ Lineage + Ekans

Life with humans is full of quirks and oddities, where Pokémon come across things they would never encounter while living outside their care in the wild. There are the orbs with simulated habitats that carry Pokémon both great and small in them. Healing medicines and machines that allow Pokémon to recover from wounds that would be the end of a Pokémon in the wild.

But right now, the oddity that holds your attention right now is a cylinder that looks much like a lantern, with a purple and yellow egg resting inside of it. If you hold your head right, you can see your reflection in it. Your white and blue scales along your serpentine body, the blue orb on your neck, and the pair of wings on the sides of your head.

“Are you sure this will work out?”

And a quick turn of your head reveals an Arbok staring worriedly down at you. A partner of yours that shares a human. And… your mate.

“My kind doesn’t normally rear children for much longer than it takes for them to slither off into the grass,” she sighs, looking away. “I’m… not sure what I’d be able to offer our child when I don’t know the first thing about watching over one.”

You flatten out your wings and bite your tongue. You would certainly never hear the end of this were you back in the wilds, of how you chose a mate who by nature wasn’t used to staying and nurturing her child. To sire a child that would never be able to fly alongside you. Would never be able to fight as you could. That would never wield your dragonfire. That would draw mockery and laughter were he or she to claim the title of ‘dragon’.

… Why were you dwelling on this anyways? You’d come to live with humans precisely because those other dragons didn’t lend you aid. Because you’d been discovered injured along a beach as a Dratini with wounds that kept you from moving about in the water properly. You had been given a chance to return back to the wild after evolution wiped those wounds away… and you’d turned it down, because you’d made friends with the other Pokémon that traveled with your trainers.

Including the one you’d had the egg you were staring at in the incubator right now with. Your whole life has been taking chances and making choices that weren’t possible for you in nature. Why should that change now?”

“We aren’t living like that,” you insist. “There’s room for us to try things differently.”

A crack sounds out, as you see a fissure run down the length of the shell and violet scales nose at it from underneath. The Arbok sets her teeth on edge and looks around worriedly.

“Of all the times for Belinda not to be here,” she murmurs.

“It’s alright,” you insist. “I think that I can get the machine open.”

You nose at the plastic covering over the front of the incubator and after a few fumbling noses it slides open, just in time for the egg to split and the form of a young Ekans to emerge with a few tired groans. This is your child who you’ve been waiting for all these weeks. It takes a while before you can spot the appropriate patch of scales, but this is her.

You pause and feel your heart well for a moment, as you lower your snout at the young serpent, who shrinks back at first with a nervous rattle of her tail. Are you scaring her? You hesitate and try to pin the wings on your head back to make yourself look smaller.

“H-Hi there,” you stammer. “I… I know that I probably look different than what you’re expecting, but I’m your-”

The next thing you feel is a heavy smack at your snout from a lunging tackle, followed by fangs sinking into your snout.

“Agh!”

You lurch back, and fight every bone in your body to not thrash about. Your mate hurries over, and hurriedly nuzzles at the Ekans, speaking in a soothing tone with a soft hiss.

“Easy! Easy, little one! There’s nothing to worry about! That’s your father!”

It will take some weeks before your child begins to speak coherently, but even so, she lets go and slithers behind the Arbok, craning her head out warily.

“Da- Da da?”

You nose at your wounded snout, and brush away a couple droplets of blood. It occurs to you that you’re still feeling healthy at the moment. Guess your mate’s reassurances that her kind starts their lives without poison weren’t just empty words.

You start to get doubts again. Over whether this was a good idea. Over whether this will even work. Sure, Belinda will be there to help care for your child, but with how different you two are, will she love you the way you want to love her back?

“Da da.”

You feel scales brush up against yours, and look to see your child curling around your body. Or trying to, at least. Your worries and fears ebb away then, as you resolve that whatever the future holds, that you’ll work things out.

“Y-Yeah, th-that’s me. Da da. You- You kinda gave me a scare there.”

You don’t know whether or not your child will ever be able to call herself ‘dragon’. Or whether or not she’ll be able to share any of your ways. But right then, right there, you are convinced that in all the ways that matter, that she is just like you.

Spoiler: Cute but Ferocious

Finding hunting grounds was a challenge for any dragon, especially one with an appetite as big as yours. Though that came with the territory of being a Pokémon of your kind, the gods had given you the strength to make the world tremble, at the cost of it needing to be ever fed. You remembered when you first heard the rumors, of untouched hunting grounds south and west of the shrines to the great dragons, where prey were plentiful in number and grew fat and sleek from verdant fields.

You could see it as clear as day through three sets of eyes, and you still found yourself looking down at the ground at the silhouette of your wings over the treetops to make sure that you weren’t dreaming: a verdant, rolling field just beyond the forest, with a veritable sea of bleating, yellow wool.

“So the stories really are true…”

You heard your stomach growl at the sight and felt your mouth began to water. Somehow, such rich grounds had gone unclaimed all this time. All yours for the taking. To think that all this time your peers opted to squabble over competing claims in the mountains instead.

… Perhaps things weren’t so black-and-white. These fields are supposed to be tended by humans, and it is said that as balance to the toll of tooth and claw the gods allow Pokémon to take upon humans that interfere in the affairs of Pokémon, that they saw it fit that Pokémon that interfered with the affairs of humans would be similarly punished.

But they are humans, and you are a Hydreigon. They are said to quake in fear at the sight of those of your kind who den among them, while your kind has stories in folklore of laying waste to their villages. Your quarrel isn’t with them anyways, and if they wish to make it so… well, you’ll believe they can win it when they emerge from hiding from their dens to challenge you. You are the Hydreigon, after all. They are the weak creatures dependent on the strength of others to stand up to Pokémon.

You bank in the air and dive towards the flock of Mareep below, building up bluish light in your mouths. A few of the Mareep turn and bleat out warning, but it is too late. You spit up a Dragon Pulse, and then another, and another. Three Mareep crumple to the ground, singed with bluish dragonfire. Their peers break away in a panic, but that is just fine by you. Your prey has already been felled before they knew what hit them. When you finish them off, you will be rewarded with your fill of succulent and still-tender meat, as the gods are said reward to hunters that hastily dispatch their prey and revel not in their fear and pain.

A quick swoop down and you are there to seize one of the Mareep with your leftmost head, biting down into its wool. You feel a feeble pulse in your jaws, but with the condition it is in, you doubt the sheep will wake up before you can carry it off and dispatch it. You hastily flap your wings to make your way over to the second and do the same with the rightmost as a few electric bolts sail in. But they are from Mareep, while you are a Hydreigon, and they bounce like little pricks off your hide from a Combee. Perhaps less so, since Combee pricks can be surprisingly painful. A few wingbeats later, and you make your way to the third Mareep and open the jaws on your central head. This one wakes up as you approach and flinches with a low whimper.

“I suppose my luck was bound to run out at some point,” you grumble to yourself. After all, this Mareep’s fear will make his meat tough and stringy compared to the other two. Perhaps you’ll eat him first to just get it over with.

You bare your fangs and prepare to sink in, when a blinding flash sails in and you feel numb warmth course through your body. You lose your grip on the other Mareep and fall back with a pained bellow, turning your heads to see an Ampharos approaching with a piercing glare, sparks still dancing on his hide.

“You should know better than to prey on Pokémon in the care of humans,” the ram bleats. “The gods do not smile on Pokémon that would harm them like this.”

You blink incredulously at the Ampharos, before flitting back and tensing your heads. It occurs to you that he would be much bigger and more filling quarry, and without any hint of fear about him, the meat from his body would surely be more pleasing to consume. Even so, the sheep struck you harder than you expect, and harder than you’d care to let him know. So you bare your fangs back, unfurl your six wings to their full span, and snarl to try and remind this interloper that you are a Hydreigon, while he is a mere Ampharos.

“I think that I am more familiar with the ways of the gods than a human pet,” you sneer. “And what do you think a mere grazer like you can do to me?”

The Ampharos narrows his eyes, before letting static dance on his hide before narrowing his eyes at you and speaking in a calm, unfazed tone.

“Kill you. With the very power that you wield as your own,” he answers. “We Ampharos have the strength of dragons coursing through our veins, and as the Lead Ram of the Floccesy Ranch flock, I have come far along enough to be able to use it.”

At this, you burst into laughter, struggling with all your might not to fall out of the air and bowl over onto the grass. This Ampharos… the creature that should be quailing in his tracks and begging for mercy right now, is threatening you? You’d heard that being in the care of humans went to the heads of some Pokémon, but this was just too much.

Just then, a weak jolt of electricity courses through your body and you stop laughing as you feel your limbs lock up and grow stiff. Your eyes widen briefly, but you recompose yourself and turn with a snarl. After all, you are the Hydreigon, and he is a mere Ampharos. Your kind eats stronger Pokémon than him on a regular basis.

“Eat this!”

You disgorge a blue pulse of dragonfire, which makes the Ampharos stagger back much to your satisfaction. You let out a bellowing roar and fight against your stiff wings to fly at the ram as smoke swirls, cracking your jaws open to tear into him. It is then that the smoke clears and much to your alarm, you see the Ampharos still standing, with an orb of bluish dragonfire in his mouth.

The next thing you hear is a noise coming from your throats that is closer to the sound of the frightened bleats of the Mareep from earlier than you will ever tell anyone else in your life. You hurriedly try to pull up, when you feel burning pain strike you in your belly. The world spins about you as you crash onto your side on the ground.

You lie there in a daze briefly. H-How on earth this all happened? You are the Hydreigon, he is the Ampharos! Th-This was completely backwards from how things were supposed to go!

You yelp after you feel a kick on your stomach and roll over onto your back. You feel something press down on your central throat and hear bleating jeers from all around you. This is it. You’re going to die here. You try to be brave and face the end with dignity as contrary to all your expectations, the Ampharos has emerged the victor, and brace for the final blow.

It is harder than you thought, and waiting for death is a more frightening experience than you expected. You screw all six of your eyes shut and feel a shiver run down your body. While you’ll never admit it, you may or may not have also made a few noises not wholly unlike the ones that the last Mareep from earlier did after coming to. But you can still hear the Mareep bleating all around you, and you still feel the aching pains wracking your body, so you’re not dead yet. You crack your eyes warily, and see the Ampharos’ foot on your central throat, its owner looking down at you with a piercing glare.

“I would just like to remind you that I warned you this would happen,” the Ampharos huffed. “Fortunately for you, there is no blood to be avenged, and we ‘pets’ don’t live by the rules of the wild. Go and hunt elsewhere.”

The Ampharos lets his foot off your throat. You roll over onto your stomach and pant for air out of fright. You had no idea that Ampharos could become this fierce, this powerful. You look back at the sheep, who is beginning to have impatient sparks dance on his hide.

“And don’t come back here again,” he warns. “If I see you in these fields again, I’ll see to it that you won’t live to tell others about losing a second time to an old ram.”

There is nothing left to be said between you two. You yelp and scrabble onto your stubby legs and after pitching startledly to the ground from a failed attempt at taking off, leap into the air and fly off as fast as your wings and your battle fatigue will let you.

Somewhere south and west of the shrines to the great dragons, are untouched hunting grounds where prey are plentiful in number and grow fat and sleek from verdant fields. Someday, a dragon with great strength might claim it for his own.

But that dragon is not you. You’re not going to tempt fate and going to put a healthy distance between you and that accursed Ampharos. There was a lake you spotted about fifteen minutes northward during your flight, you’re going to go there, lick your wounds, and try your luck fishing for Basculin.

Spoiler: Goomy + Exeggutor

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to have gone foraging while the nightly rains made it easier to move about. To eat your fill of leaves and berries and go back to your hiding place to rest.

And then you ran into the Serperior, and were forced into hiding in these bushes. You’d tried to keep an eye out for a chance to sneak past it, but you hadn’t had the chance to eat beforehand, and before you knew it, the rains stopped and the sun began to peek over the horizon.

For some Pokémon, the night was dark and full of terrors. But with your slow gait and your frail body, damp darkness was your ally. The beating sun had long dried up that dampness, and it wouldn’t be until about midday until light rains came again to the island that would make movement easier. At least enough to try and sneak back to your den going from bush to bush. You’d tried to rest and conserve your energy until then, but between your hunger, the daytime heat eating away at the damp layer of slime on your body, you kept having trouble dozing off.

And every now and then, your antennae would pick up movement from just outside your bush, like the heavy footsteps you were sensing passing by you. You’d keep still and try to tell yourself that whatever was on the other end hadn’t seen you, that if you’d just stay quiet, you could hold on, and inch away back to safety. But it was your evolution that had the mucous that would burn to the touch. You were stuck here waiting and trying to remain still and quiet.

Except, the footsteps returned this time. Your small eyes shrank to pins and you desperately held your breath, when the bush erupted with activity. A pair of gray, chitinous horns sliced through the foliage just above you, just missing your antennae.

You screamed. And spat up a stream of blue dragonfire at your attacker before you broke from the bush and slimed ahead as fast as you could… which wasn’t all that fast in the grand scheme of things. You turned eyes as much as you could and saw your attacker was a hulking, brown beetle, with barbed pincers at the top of its head and a mouth full of sharp, fang-like mandibles.

There was a ledge just up ahead that went down to the beach. Down to where humans sometimes came and went on this island. If you could just make it there, maybe you could buy some time for the Pinsir to lose sight of you. To find another bush to hide in.

Except, the dew and nightly rains were long dried out. You hurriedly inched forward, contracting your foot as the Pinsir came at you when he lunged with his pincers. To grasp you and finish you off. You flattened yourself against the ground as the pincers closed just overhead with a sharp clack and you threw yourself off the ledge and hit the grass below.

You lay there stunned for a moment and tried to get up when you heard wings buzzing. You looked behind you and saw the Pinsir had followed you, evidently having seen you and your leap of faith this entire time. You let out a low whine as the beetle clicked his mandibles, bracing yourself for the end.

That was when you saw a sudden shock of green and brown, trailing telltale flecks of blue like your Dragon Breath barrel in. The blur crushed the Pinsir to the ground, before jerking back up high into the sky. You looked as the Pinsir struggled against the ground in a daze, before hurriedly scrabbling away and limping off into the brush.

Your breaths came tense and heavy as you looked up, and saw a towering tree above you. Or at least you thought it was a tree, until you saw it turn and crane down. The things you thought were coconuts turned out to be a trio of heads, and you froze as they studied you carefully.

“You look tired, young dragon,” the Exeggutor said. “Why do you move about in the sun in such a state?”

“Because I was stranded while I was foraging,” you explain. “And I was set upon by my enemies while I was weak and vulnerable.”

The Exeggutor stared at you for a quiet moment, before shaking his leafy head. The great dragon cracked a trio of small smiles, as he rumbled in reassurance.

“The daytime rains won’t be much longer. This is where I normally sun myself before they come. Won’t you stay and rest a while?” the tree-creature asked. “As one dragon to another, I can lend a helping frond this once.”

“Of- Of course.”

The tree-dragon reared back up, his head stretching high up into the sky where the birds might fly as shade fell on the grass below. Exhausted, you inched forward, and flattened yourself against the ground, your eyes closing as sleep claimed you.

---

When you woke up, you felt the patter of rain against your body and awakened to find the Exeggutor turning to look over you before craning his head down to you.

“I’m afraid this is where we must part ways,” he said. “My rhythms call me to the west of the island for when the rain parts for the afternoon sun. And yours…”

The Exeggutor motioned off ahead, where you saw your fellows inching along. Goomy and Sliggoo, making their way down from the hilltop to forage. You set off, before turning back to the great tree dragon that towered over you and gave thanks.

You would have quite the story to tell your peers after you’d eaten your fill and finally made your way back home. Of how a fellow dragon saved your life, one taller and stronger than you could’ve ever imagined.

Spoiler: Flightless

WHAM!

You heard a loud crash ring out after your head struck the floor and rolled onto your back. You lay there a moment, looking back up the shelf you dove off of for the fifth time, then down at your blue and yellow scales and your nubby arms. Still no closer to flying than you’d were the first time, nor the day earlier, nor any number of days before that.

The bump stirred the Wartortle basking under the sun next to a desk, but he otherwise ignored it and dozed off. Roy, your trainer’s starter and leader of sorts of the team your were on. You supposed that after diving onto the carpeted floor for the umpteenth time. You gave the side of the shelf a growling headbutt and fumed to yourself.

Your kind was supposed to be able to fly. And yet, your opportunities to practice in your trainer’s cramped house in this urban sprawl were limited to dives off furniture when others were out of the house or not paying attention or busy with things like this ‘laundry’ that your trainer was. Dragons of your kind were supposed to fly, and it was something you could feel in your bones. Your counterparts in the wild supposedly felt enough to leap off cliffs... you wondered if they got any closer to flying than you did.

If only you could go someplace taller. You didn’t know if it would work for helping you to fly, but diving off the bedroom shelf wasn’t going anywhere, and repeating the same thing while expecting different results was supposedly a sign of insanity among humans. Or at least that was what Roy had said.

Except, you were here in this little three-story house amid a sea of others just like it. It wasn’t as if you’d find a cliff conveniently here for you to jump off…

You felt a breeze blow in through the window, and looked off at the desk, and saw that the window was open on it. … It was surely still short, but it was taller than the jump off the shelf, wasn’t it?

You made your way over, and after a few fumbling attempts, clambered up the seat, then up to the desk, and over to the window where you put your nubby arms up on it.

“Nrgh…”

You tugged at the window to open it wider, but you just kept struggling to move it. You eventually decided to wedge your body between the window and pushed it open with a creak. You stepped back and looked down from the ledge. Your trainer’s house was a narrow, three-story building wedged in between others, with a fenceline barely a human arm span apart separating you from the side alley where trash was dropped off to be picked up.

You’d made this jump once before and gotten chewed out over it. Something about it being dangerous. But you’d almost felt like you were flying then, and you were older and more experienced now. Maybe… just maybe, things would be different this time.

“Whuh? Marl?”

You stiffened up and looked back down at the desk where your Wartortle teammate was getting up and rubbing his eyes. He stared at you blankly for a moment, before seeing you at the windowsill, and the window open and just waiting for you to leap through it.

“Wait! Marl! What are you-?!”

If he was going to get you in trouble, you might as well just jump. You leapt ahead and dove, hearing your friend call after you. You flapped your arms for good measure, so that way it’d help you pull up as you neared the ground. Except, you didn’t realize how close to the house you were-

CHUNK!

You felt your head hit something hard and stony, and pinwheeled forward like you did after diving off the shelf. Except there was no carpeted floor below you. You felt air briefly, before landing on your left leg against the pavement. You heard a faint crack and felt agony shoot through your leg.

And then you screamed.

---

The time after your dive from the window went by in a blur. You remember bawling from the pain in your leg and crying out for help. It wasn’t long before Roy wrangled your trainer and your teammates along, and after discovering that so much as touching your left leg hurt you, recalled you to your Pokéball and rushed you to the local Pokécenter.

You were discharged within the day. The Chansey that worked there told you that you’d broken your leg from your fall. Evidently Bagon’s armored heads didn’t do much to defend them if they fell on other parts of their bodies. The wound that was beyond the ability of the machines there to heal, and in order for it to heal as quickly as possible, you’d need to rest outside your Pokéball with your left leg in a splint and cast for your trainer and teammates to keep an eye on you as your leg bones stitched themselves back together.

Which in practice meant one of your trainer or one of your teammates standing watch by you in a tatty bed laid on the floor. It apparently used to be Roy’s when he was smaller, and judging from the rips and tears in the fabric from what looked like bite marks… you honestly had no reason to disbelieve your teammates.

And so there you were, on the floor of the bedroom, lying on your back much as you were when you’d dived off the shelf. Except this time, you couldn’t even hope to get up the shelf on your own. You looked down the hallway, where your trainer, a younger teenaged boy with a face that other humans kept having the hardest time picking out was tending to a Flaafy and Cubone while packing up a bag. Heading out, it looked like.

“Marl?”

You turned your attention and looked up to see a Wartortle’s face peering down at you worriedly.

“How are you holding up, Marl?”

“Awful,” you replied, prompting the turtle to paw at the back of his head by one of his furry ears.

“I… kinda figured,” he sighed back. “I don’t mean to kick you while you’re down, but at least you now know why you’re not supposed to jump from the window, right?”

You get up and grit your teeth. That wasn’t your fault. It was the fault of that stupid fence! If it wasn’t there, you’d have landed on your head like you were supposed to if you weren’t able to fly and none of this would’ve happened!

You say about as much back to the Wartortle, and sit up when you feel pain shoot through your splinted leg. You try to blink back a few tears, and curse yourself for doing so. As if you needed to look any weaker and more pathetic right now. You wipe the tears away and try to force on a brave face, before looking down with a glum murmur.

“I- I just wanted to fly…” you murmur.

The Wartortle looks at you for a moment, before shaking his head. He gives a scratch under your chin, a trick he picked up from a human who cared for another dragon. One that could fly like a dragon is supposed to. In better times, it helped put you in a good mood. Except, you had a throbbing leg right now that you couldn’t get your mind off of.


“You’ll get there. But… just take it easy for a while, okay?” the Wartortle tells you. “I need to help with a grocery run in a bit, so it might be a good time to get some rest.”

You think you really are going to cry now. You’re in pain and can’t try to chase the thing you love, and now your own team leader is telling you…

“Y-You’re just going to leave me here?” you stammer. “C-Can’t you at least bring me along in my Pokéball?”

“Your leg won’t heal properly if you’re in your Pokéball all the time for it. And I promise it won’t be for long,” the Water-type insists.

You feel as if you’ve just been frozen over in a block of ice at the Wartortle’s words, as he turns for the door. He seems to pick up on you not doing well and hesitates for a moment, before looking back towards you.

“I know that humans don’t really understand Pokémon like us, but I’ll try and get Calvin to pick up something for you,” he says. “The rest of the family will check up on you if you need any help.”

“O-Okay.”

You watch as Roy turns his head and slips past the doorframe and sink back into your bed. Your voice hitches, and when you think no one is watching you, you sniffle a little, and begin to shed a few tears into the fabric.

---

“We’re back!”

You must’ve dozed off after Roy left, since the first thing you remember after crying and nodding off was hearing the Wartortle’s voice. You raise your head from the bed, as the Water-type hurries in carrying a small length of string, and then abruptly pauses and bites his tongue.

“Oh. I… didn’t realize you were doing this badly, Marl.”

You see a flash of guilt come over the Water-type’s face and narrow your eyes. He could’ve not left you out or stayed behind, but no. He just had to go along to get the stupid groceries. You turn away with a pouting huff, before you feel him pawing at your chin.

“I just hope you’re not too mad at me about it,” he said. “Though hopefully this makes up for it a bit.”

“And what’s ‘this’ supposed to be?” you grumble. The Wartortle opens his mouth to explain, only to catch himself and think better of it before he speaks up.

“It’s a surprise,” he says. “You’ll figure it out pretty quickly, just sit up for a bit.”

You warily rise up and shuffle onto your bum, wincing after you apply pressure on your left leg a few times. It is then that you hear footsteps as your trainer comes into the room holding a large red balloon. Your face falls, and you shoot back a sharp glare at the Wartortle.

“Roy, why would you bring a balloon to taunt me like this?” you sulk. “As if I needed more reminders that I couldn’t fly-”

The teen stoops down and pats at your chin, and you can’t help but calm down for a moment. Roy takes the opportunity to lift your arms up, as your trainer slips the cord of the balloon around you and ties it about your chest under your arms. At once, you feel a force tugging you, and look up at the balloon, before you notice that your feet aren’t touching the ground anymore.

“Oh!”

You notice your feet are about Roy’s waist height off the ground. You lean forward, trying to keep your belly parallel to the ground. Much to your surprise, you manage to stay about the same height. You flap your arms, and stay aloft, when it suddenly dawns on you…

“I’m- I’m flying! I’m flying!”

“Well, more like ‘floating’. It took a few tries to explain it to Calvin, but I figured you’d like it,” the Wartortle corrects you. “Humans call it an ‘Air Balloon’. They don’t last that long, but they help keep Pokémon off the ground for battles, especially little ones like you.”

The boy with the unplaceable face stooped down and pets you. You can’t understand most of what he’s saying to you in his tongue. That’s more Roy’s skill. He listens for a moment, before turning over to you.

“Calvin says you looked lonely in bed all day, and wants to know if you’d like to get tugged around a bit,” he explain. “It’s not quite the same as having a pair of wings, but…”

You start to feel yourself crying again, and sniffle a bit. This time, it’s not because you’re feeling hurt or alone, but because you can’t get over how you’re actually flying right now… sort of.

And so, the next words come out of your mouth without you even realizing it.

“I-I’d love that actually.”

---

Five minutes later, you’re in the back alley visible from the window of your trainer’s bedroom. You feel the air rush against your body as you lay level with the ground, the pavement zipping past you. Your splinted leg slips from mind as there’s nothing for it to brush up against, as you race past mountains and clouds in your imagination.

You cling onto a length of string, whooping and hollering as Roy tugs you along, flapping your free arm as you call out for him to keep going and to pull faster. There’s only so much your teammate can do as a Wartortle, but he does his best, laughing and cheering you along all the while as the sky flushes orange from sunset.

You’re sure that this must look silly to dragons who can fly like they’re supposed to. And you suppose that Roy’s right that it’s not really flying. You can’t steer, you can’t move yourself, can’t do rolls or loops.

But none of that matters right now. You feel the air against your face all the same, and you’re able to share it with your friends. Just like you will someday in the future when you’re all grown up and can spread your wings and do the same all by yourself.

Spoiler: Flapple

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.

Spoiler: A Dragon Someday

You crouch and peek out from the bushes along the stone fenceline, the salt tang of the air pricking your nostrils as you crouch and pull leaves on your arms taut into each other as blades. Humans call this place you’re in ‘Mossdeep City’, and were your partner here, he’d surely pull you back into your Pokéball. You don’t know what he’d say, since your human is a bit rusty, but you’re sure the gist of it would be that this was a terrible idea.

After all, the houses here are big, belonging to humans with many treasures. Your partner instructed you in the past that it was not safe to go through such houses blindly. Many of them are watched by the likes of guarding Manectric. It was better to snatch the things of the humans from the big houses while they were out and about in the busier parts of the city, where a human like your partner could get lost among the crowds as easily as you could among the treetops of a forest.

You thought of trying to do that back deeper in town, when you’d first seen this man and overheard him with some companions of his. You didn’t make out all of his conversation, but he’d apparently found stones that made Pokémon stronger. Maybe there was one that could make you stronger. Heavens knew you could’ve used that back when your partner was around.

Your attention drifts back to the scene at the house. A man in white hair in a black suit can be seen tending to a Metagross. You begin to understand why there’s no guards here. This human and the companion you can already see are already strong enough to be their own guards. Attempting direct battle with them would be tantamount to suicide. The easiest way to get at it would be for your partner to distract the man and his companion while you cut open the bag and snatched those stones within it and ran off.

Except, your partner isn’t here. You glance at a small black wristband on your arm. It’s your trainer’s. Perhaps you should’ve suspected that something was wrong from the way you and him kept getting into fights with other humans, often over little trinkets or bits of paper and metal that humans value. But you took it all in stride. It was thrilling, almost like hunting, and you had his back and he had yours.

… Until the night that the humans in the peaked caps took him away. You remember waking up afterwards in a strange place, coming to cornered by a snarling Arcanine that worked with them. There was the moment after that where you bowled over sobbing and begging not to be roasted, but you don’t like thinking too much about it. It’s not exactly one of your prouder ones. After you realized you weren’t going to die and calmed down a bit afterwards, you gathered your nerves to try and face down the imposing hound. It took all your courage as you tried to explain that you’d just been trying to help your trainer like any Pokémon would, and begged and pleaded for you and your trainer to be let go, insisting that you wouldn’t cause any harm afterwards.

You don’t know if your words had any effect. In the end, your trainer was taken away in a black-and-white car, and you had never seen him since then. You were passed back along with your Pokéball to his parents, an elderly couple who live here in Mossdeep City, dropped off still-quivering on their doorstep as the humans in peaked caps explained something to them, and the Arcanine with them passed you a warning to stay out of further trouble.

In the dog’s words, continuing on your trainer’s path would bring you an unpleasant end. You remembered being put into something called ‘stasis’ being one of them, as was being cast out into the wild. If you really got into trouble, the Arcanine warned, you could even be put to death.

You shiver a bit at the last thought. You don’t know what threshold the humans would use to decide to take your life. But as it stands, you’re already taking a great risk. Your trainer’s parents seemed to forget about him after the humans in peaked caps took you back to them. They stopped talking about him, and took down the pictures they had of him around the house. They don’t pay you much mind either and basically ignore you as long as you come home at night and don’t show up obviously injured. You don’t know whether or not it’s because you remind them of the son they seemingly forgot, or if it’s just because of them growing older and more sedentary.

But it quickly became apparent to you that if anyone would get your trainer back, it’d be you. But you would need strength for that. Strength more than what your occasional scuffles in the back alley and snatched item here or there from your daytime wanderings about the town would accomplish. Strength like what those stones are supposed to provide, with a power that can transform Pokémon entirely.

You snap back to attention and see the man and the Metagross head off for the house. This is your big chance. It could be the last thing that you or your partner ever stole for all you care, so long as it helped you get him back.

You tip the bag over and paw through its contents, where you find all sorts of rocks. Small ones, large ones. Tools for picking at them. Was this human raised by an Aggron or something? As you paw through them, you see it: a round, light-blue stone with a orange and white swirl. That must be one of the stones that made Pokémon stronger.

Just then, you hear a door slam open and tense up. You wrap your claws around the blue stone and take off running for the fenceline. You leap to try and scrabble up it, when you feel your body abruptly freeze in midair, and see a bluish aura envelop your body. You thrash in the air to try and break free, but to no avail. You gulp and look back, seeing the man in black approach you as the Metagross with him holds you aloft with telekinetic force, glaring daggers at you all the while.

“‘Grovyle the Thief’, huh? Whoever put you up to this one’s been reading too many stories.”

‘G-Grovyle the Thief’? A ‘story’? Humans have ones about Grovyle that steal things?

You try to glare back, but you can’t help but shiver after his Metagross lets out a metallic-sounding hiss. They are supposed to be vicious predators that pin their prey under their bodies to devour them, and his has you completely at his mercy. You pull your tails tight against your body and begin to stammer an explanation back in your tongue that you were never going to hurt anyone, that you’ll leave right away if you’ll just be let go, and that Grovyle don’t taste good for anyone to eat, and especially not for Metagross like his.

You’re pretty sure that you might as well have blurted out “please don’t hurt me, I’m just a little gecko” and the human would’ve understood just as much. You draw in shallow, tense, breaths as he approaches, when he looks down at your paws and points at them with a small smile.

“Oh, so you were trying to grow stronger, huh?”

‘Stronger’? He knows about that? You feel the force holding you let go and turn to run, only for the Metagross to block your path. You let out a low whine and shrink back, and look back at the white-haired man, only to see that he doesn’t seem angry with you. You give a timid nod back, and the man hesitates, before making his way back to the bag you tore up to fish through it.

You’re… not sure if you’re in trouble right now or not. The human seems friendly… but definitely not safe. You look down at the blue stone in your paws. From how little you understand of his tongue, it’s for the best to not assume things. For all you know, he’s toying with you right now before he feeds you to his Metagross.

When you look back up, you see the man approaching with his right hand cupped around something. Probably a Pokéball to try and catch you. You’re pretty sure it won’t work since you can still go in and out of your trainer’s just fine… not that the man in black would know that.

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t have any luck with that stone though. That’s for my partner, this was the one you wanted.”

Something about the stone you’re holding. Something about his Metagross. You forget for a moment that humans can’t understand Pokémon tongue and reflexively open your mouth to ask, only for him to pre-empt you by opening his right hand and showing off a pair of spherical stones. One of them is a light green stone with a red and green swirl in it. You look down at your body and then at the stone, then at the one in your paws and off at the Metagross.

You suddenly feel a lot stupider now. Of course a stone that would make a Pokémon stronger would look like the Pokémon that it would work on, and you snatched the one that looked nothing like you!

“I found it on a recent caving expedition, and actually don’t have a need for it myself. Not too many of my friends would be able to use it either. It’ll make you strong, to awaken the might of a dragon in you for a short time.”

You missed most of his explanation, but managed to pick up part of his last few words. ‘Might… of a dragon’? As in that little rock would make you into a dragon? As those strong creatures that fly about the skies as they please? The ones that humans tell myths of controlling time from the far north?

You don’t know how on earth that’s possible, but you certainly aren’t going to turn it down right now. That’s exactly the sort of power you’d need to get your partner back.

“Though you won’t be able to use it right now. It’s a Sceptileite, after all. You’d need to grow a bit before you could use it.”

Except, you can’t use it right now. You hang your head a little with a low, disappointed whine when you remember that there was a second stone of many colors with a swirl in it. What’s that one for?

“You also wouldn’t be able to use it on your own. You’d need the help of someone like me that you deeply trust. Though it looks like you already have someone like that, don’t you?”

You follow the human’s finger towards the armband around your wrist. The second stone… is for your partner? You don’t understand how things work fully, but the two apparently work together somehow. The man in black holds out the hand with the stones, and then the other empty-palmed. You hear the sound of heavy footsteps and see the Metagross backing out of the way, and cast a glance between your escape route and back at the man.

“So what do you say? Seem like a fair trade for that Metagrossite and letting you go?”

You look at the blue stone in your paws, and the pair in the man’s hands. You could turn and flee now while the path is open, or you could take a risk and give up this stone that he evidently cares so much about. You hesitate for a moment, when your mind turns back to your partner, and you look at the two stones in his hand. In a swift motion, you make the trade and palm the green and the iridescent stones.

You nervously remind the man that you made a trade and that he promised you your well-being. Your words go over his head, but his Metagross does not move to cut you off, and the smile remains on his face as he looks down at you.

“I figured you’d like it. Just don’t get yourself into trouble trying to impress your friend, okay?”

You nod back, clutch onto the stones and hastily scrabble over the fence and into the back alley. You stay there panting tensely for a while, when you gape up and see that the sun is further towards the west than you remembered it. It’s time for you to go home before your trainer’s parents get too worried.

The whole time, you make your way down confident and at peace, without the earlier nervousness you’d had for much of the day. Someday, you would be a dragon. And one way or another, you would wield that power alongside your old friend. Together.

 

[DawningWinds]

I've got a bottom row bingo filled out!

 

[silurica]

It'ssss a diagonal bingo!

 

[Seren]

Another batch!

@Seren

Tortured​	Voltorb​	Drowning​
Golurk​	Can't Go Back​	Sygilyph​
Painful Grin​	Huntail​	Unbridled Terror​

I went slightly overboard with my prompts, each of them being 400+ words, but considering I haven't written much recently, I'll take it.

Just for clarity's sake, bingo center row! First one, I actually combined "Golurk" and "Sigilyph" into one, although I did try to give both pokemon a PoV scene:

Spoiler: Golurk and Sigilyph

Something shifted in the air. There was no wind, yet the air seemed to be in motion. Annoyance was briefly replaced by curiosity. Somewhere in the distance, the unown were in an uproar. This time, they were not causing the disturbance, they were responding to it. Not the first time an unwelcome guest had come, but certainly the first in several hundred years.

The commotion was far from the master's chamber, however the room's sigilyph stirred anyway, likely sensing the unown's psychic field far more intensely than Golurk. The guardian's eyes lit dimly, the only sign that it had woken from it's slumber. Sigilyph floated towards the doorless entryway, its body unmoving, pausing only to rotate towards the clay golem in acknowledgement of its light signal, satisfied that it was also aware of the trespasser. Its sense of duty remained undiluted.

Golurk caught sight of another of the temple's sigilyph as it hovered passed their doorway, moving as silently as its counterpart. Golurk's companion sigilyph once again turned back to look over the room, the unown's psychic warning urging the temple's ancient guardians into action. Golurk wasn't worried. The sigilyph had only once failed to keep an intruder away from the master's chamber, and where they failed, Golurk had not.

The ancient guardian craned its head ever so slightly to gaze upon the clay remains of its own counterpart, the other pokemon lost to time. No matter. The master would be protected, even if Golurk was alone as the final obstacle.

---

Only five sigilyph besides itself responded to the unown's summons; the rest continued their eternal patrol of the temple's dusty, vacant corridors. Even so, the six had been excessive, but it had been so long since anything interesting had happened that perhaps, somewhere in their subconscious, they were eager for something new.

The swarm of unown had trapped the trespassers in some illusion or another, their panicked gasps echoing in the cold stoney corridor. It was impossible to tell by sight alone what the human and her companion were witnessing, and neither Sigilyph nor its five companions felt the need to pry. Eventually, the gasps evolved into screams, the sigilyph's cue to take over control of the situation. The unown scrambled and scattered upon realizing the temple guardians had arrived.

None of the sigilyph knew nor cared what the human perceived them as, as they led her and her pokemon companion to the sand pit. The illusion they'd trapped the human in had been so strong, she hadn't offered any resistance as she sunk down into the sand, her pokemon realizing too late what was happening. It was almost anticlimactic; the sigilyph hardly needed to vacate their patrols.

There was no need to communicate as Sigilyph returned to the master's chamber. The clay giant Golurk had already returned to slumber, having sensed the unown's psychic field dissipating. Sigilyph wondered, only for a moment, if the ancient guardian was disappointed at not getting to partake in the excitement, but of course, Golurk wouldn't care. It's job was done. The master's bones remained remained undisturbed.

I honestly wish I had more time to work on this one, as I really like the concept and I may expand on this in the future (oh god oh fuck another fic idea I'll never have time for, help).

And for the middle space (What? I didn't do the "Tortured" prompt? No, I did not... yet) I re-imagined an opening scene from one of my other fic ideas:
(TW for implied parental abuse I guess?)

Spoiler: Can't Go Back

Professor Elm's voice never failed to grate on Carrie's nerves. She didn't dislike the man, and even felt bad about attempting to steal one of his starters, but damn, his voice got under her skin. The words themselves were no consolation, either.

"Your parents must be worried sick about you! We should let them know where you are."

Oh no. She had to stop him. Her father could not find out what she'd tried to do. The only thing worse than Elm calling the cops would be... well, that.

"My parents are the reason I'm here," she replied, sitting up too quickly and immediately regretting it, her vision going blurry as lightheadedness struck her. But she didn't need to see right now. She needed to stop Elm from ratting her out. "Or, well, at least my father is. He... his machamp..." Just thinking about that four-armed monster made her quiver in anger. The rage actually began to clear her head, her vision slowly returning. She spotted her baseball cap further down the desk, sitting next to a curious cyndaquil, and she returned it to her head. "I can't go back there. I just... I can't."

Why? Why was she protecting them? Why did she feel the need to keep this a secret? All she had to do was tell Elm how she got her bruises, and her father would be ruined. Elm had to have seen them at some point after she passed out. But... what if he'd found out? And he would. Her mother had lived with the cruel man since before Carrie was born - She'd do what little she could to protect her daughter, but there was no chance she'd be the one to turn him in. And machamp reveled in the torment he dished out. They'd know she squealed, and then they'd find her, and...

Carrie froze, drawing in a sharp, surprised breath as something touched her leg. Her accelerated heart rate refused to slow even when she looked down and realized the pressure was only the cyndaquil leaning on her, not the threatening pressure of a fist. The cyndaquil timidly ignited the flame on it's back, bathing Carrie in a quite relaxing warmth. As the pokemon flopped down against her, head tilted upwards, she began to calm down.

Well, she did say once that she'd burn all her father's boxing trophies to the ground... a tough fire-type might be just what she needed to finally turn the tormentors into the tormented. At least, far in the future. Not today. She couldn't go back there today. She'd already made her choice. She'd finally escaped. What she needed to do now was begin her journey of revenge.

"Professor... I need a pokemon."

 

[ShiniGojira]

Tadah! Middle column bingo!

 

[seatherny]

right column bingo get

WARNING: These drabbles contain MASSIVE SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney series.

Spoiler: (NO) APOLOGIES | prompt: hidden wound | 100 words

“Something’s off with you tonight, Klint. Are you not well?”

Being the Director of Prosecutions, of noble blood, a leader in the eyes of poor and rich citizens alike—none of it was enough to help subdue London’s corruption.

If the world didn’t have to play by the rules, neither did he. Still he needed his brother’s spirit to forgive himself.

“I’m exhausted, Barok. That’s all.”

Klint marched to his room, removed his cloak, and tended to the lacerations on his shoulder. Under his breath, he apologized to Balmung for not having been able to finish the job on his own.

Spoiler: STATIONARY | prompt: racing thoughts | 100 words

Dear Barok,

I know I posted a letter earlier, but I forgot to enclose a copy of my latest publication. It’s been a long day and my thoughts are racing… I’ll need all of tomorrow to recover. Establishing calculations for my hypothesis is THAT draining!

So is prosecuting, I’m sure, but I haven’t heard from you in ages! Do they not have pen or paper in London anymore? Let me know what you think of my article when you get a chance. Actually, no… Well, yes, but first, would you just let me know you’re okay, please?

Your friend,
Albert

Spoiler: ONCE MORE | prompt: coping mechanism | 100 words

Today’s assassins were careless, leaving a wine barrel’s hoop rivets tilted three odd centimeters to the left. Barok placed an empty chalice below the spigot and poured. The liquid’s crimson pigment was unchanged, and he detected no smell when lifting the drink toward his face.

Arsenic, no doubt.

Barok sighed. This batch was delivered only a week ago, but to be safe, he would have to discard each one and start anew. Once more, his preferred vineyard would forsake its craft’s pride and rejoice in his wastefulness, his money.

And once more, he would pretend that being unsafe wasn’t tempting.

 

[kyeugh]

@kyeugh

​

'Celestica' they called themselves, the name not theirs to take.	Saffron Dojo Falls	Rayquaza Grants a Wish
Firing the Ultimate Weapon	A young man, callow and foolish in innocence, came to own a sword.	The New Boss is Giovanni
N Crowned King	The empty sky cracked asunder.	Calyrex Revitalizes the Tundra

downward diagonal bingo secured

Pokémon - Shadows Cast by Time – TR-versary Bingo

A series of one-shots for TR Anniversary Bingo. Stories of the first golett, the banishing of regice, and suicune's first evening.

forums.thousandroads.net

 

[unrepentantAuthor]

@unrepentantAuthor I assume by frontier you meant Western, so here's an American Frontiers card!

Gunslinger​	Flaafy Ranch​	Outlaw Mission​
Hot Sun and Tumbleweeds​	The Final Frontier​	A Long Road Ahead​
Silly Hats and Lassos​	Midday Duel​	Partners​

Here's a fill. Each is 100 words precisely. All are about a certain unhappy fox man.

Gunslinger

He practices the draw. Must be a hundred times already. Not enough. He has to be so fast on the draw that it looks instant. It could mean the difference between life and death. His death. Hers. Some innocent 'mon.

He reaches for his weapon again, pulls, points, prepares the magic in his clenched paw. The weapon glows. The feel of the wood on his carpal pads is always vaguely surprising, as if it should have another shape, a form other than that of a 'wand', a braixen's spellstick. His spellstick.

Gun, he thinks, and wonders what the word means.

The Final Frontier

She'd always slept easier than him. Could be a cat thing. Or a clanner thing. Either way, he often stayed staring into the campfire long after she curled up by it. No need to pitch a tent on a warm, cloudless, still night.

You could see the horizon behind and ahead of you on nights like this. When he'd first seen the desert expanse, he'd wondered how he'd ever walk it all. Now they'd walked all over. Where would they walk next? Maybe nowhere at all.

The funny thing about the future was, you had to walk into it blind.

Partners

Partner, he'd say. It came outta his mouth a dozen times a day. More, if he spent it in packed company at a saloon. Didn't mean much, most times. You, against whom I got no grudge.

My partner, he'd say. Not so often. It had an ambiguity to it he rather liked. That, and the way folks were never sure which meaning he intended. She, from whom I'm inseparable.

Partners, he'd say. Less often still. Once – first – when he'd agreed to travel together. Work together. Again, when he'd agreed to something else. You and I, part of each other's lives.

 

[Shiny Phantump]

In which Selene is redundant, Hazel is a pretty bird, and Gladion is himself.

(Bottom row bingo.)

 

[Negrek]

And that is time on Drabble Bingo! If you've posted your bingo to this thread, you qualify for a forum companion prize! Go ahead and post in the third anniversary thread to claim it.

If you didn't make the deadline, you're still welcome to complete your card! If you post your fill here later, I'll be happy to link to it in the first post.