|Little Black Dress ver Falkner
Author: Luna Tiger PM
Falkner centric / G to R / A drabble submission log that focuses on every named Falkner pairing in the fandom. Straight, gay, pokemon, there are no limits. Honorshipping, Flyingshipping, Fathershipping, Glidershipping, it will all eventually be there.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance - Falkner/Hayato - Chapters: 80 - Words: 24,858 - Reviews: 10 - Favs: 12 - Follows: 5 - Updated: 03-13-11 - Published: 01-05-10 - id: 5642757
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Edition: none (first set)
- Set #: 4
- Pairing: Windridershipping
- Universe: "Psychic Fabric"
Rating: E (Everybody)
- Warnings: none
- m - a - t - t - e -
I started writing these drabbles without a point to them, just little exercises; I didn't abide by the 100-word limit either (that's just bogus). They then became a way of pushing my creativity; some places I succeed, others I fail.
All the couples represented are either overt, "not really", implied, or are set-ups. The point is, it's about the interaction and the process that shows why they are a couple, what would make them a couple, or how it would start. There are some that are obviously one-sided, as well.
There are several R-rated drabbles, but nothing so terribly graphic (frank, but not graphic). There are also drabbles that focus on incest and human/pokémon relations. Please read for any warnings.
These have been posted on my livejournal (Falkner shorts) and the SPPf forums (Project Cycle Marathon: Falkner).
...As for the Japanese line-breaks, I just needed a change of pace from my usual ones.
- i - k - u - z - o -
"Is that yours??"
She had come up silently, ambushing him from his right, obviously for him, yet was looking nowhere at him. Instead, the strange woman was looking up with blatant adoration at the thing resting, twisted into his hair, atop his head. Except there was no denying ownership under that queer gaze. "Uh, yes, yes it's mine."
"It's absolutely adorable!"
"Hoppip!" the little plant pokémon preened, pleased to oblige a compliment, and even unburied itself from his hair (he'd have to brush it again, and soon) to leap towards her. Falkner knew its game, being cute and helpless and cuddly to advocate attention, but as the woman caught it with a care that reminded him of his mother, yet had the hands of a hard worker, he didn't recall it back. Only appeared annoyed by its desertion; it did it often enough.
"Healthy color, perfectly trimmed leaves, infectious energy." She was beaming at it, then at him, like she had just found something so shiny and new to wish to have as her own. "Do you raise many grass-types?"
"Ah, no." He shook his head. "This is my only one."
She didn't seem too disappointed. "You have a knack. You'd be a good grass-type trainer, if you ever thought about it."
He never had, and it turned him off to think about being surrounded by grass-types, that didn't have what most flying-types did: the sky. But his thoughts turned to Corey and his Venusaur, Zackie and his new Weepinbell out there on the field, mock battling with Max's Shuppet, and wondered if Corey once wanted that, or if Zackie will ultimately favor the type.
"I'm a flying-type trainer," he admitted, then felt better for it.
She sighed wistfully. "Well, we can't all be perfect." And she held out her hand. "I'm Gardenia."
He took it. "Falkner."