Hello hello
Uhhh i cant post art cus the pics are too big?? So I’ll just write fics and post them :')
Phrog Fics
Phrog Fics
Last edited by phrogtm on Thu May 20, 2021 2:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.
fanfics.shiba
Re: dancing
sorry it took so long for me to write something lmao
tw: junko enoshima, tragedy, blood (mild).
junko had a way of doing things, izuru realized.
most would call her unpredictable, disastrous, and a unbridled force of evil. and while most of what was said was true, even izuru could see the hidden routine junko loved to follow as she left the world to despair.
an example of this was that she always took him out to dance at 2pm, sharp.
he doesn’t know if there is a true reason, but no matter the weather, lighting, whatever events or meetings they had to attend, she would stop whatever she was doing just to dance with him.
izuru could have declined, seeing as how she would not be able to get the upper hand on him. however, the idea of what this all could lead to intrigued him enough to keep going.
every day was a different kind of dance. junko would decide which dance they would do the day before, giving the two time to practice or get the hang of what they were doing. then they would meet up at that same, old, dusty theater and dance on it’s stage. they performed to no one but themselves.
the elements could and would always reach them there. the theater’s roof had fallen down way before they reached the place. mold had grown into the old carpeting, giving homes to insects from all over. occasionally, a stray, malnourished animal would wonder there, flinching at the sight of the despairs. luckily, izuru knew what to do to take care of it.
the stage, despite everything around it, stayed mostly intake. perhaps junko had fixed it up, perhaps it was a miracle. izuru didn’t really care, since just from a glance, he could see that the stage would last for many more days to come.
the red sky stared at him today. it was raining; this almost filled him with concealed annoyance, if it weren’t for the fact he couldn’t feel. his suit was now wet, along with his long hair that would continue to get in his face all day.
he wasn’t told what dance they would do today. junko had only smiled that fake, overly happy smile of hers and walked off, probably to mess with mikan or servant again.
so today he was unprepared.
despite trying to connect the dots in his head, he couldn’t quite figure out what the would be doing today. that... feeling of confusion brought forth another emotion.
junko waved at him from the stage, a long poll in hand. it was bloodied, probably from smashing monokuma’s and random civilians on her way here. she hollered at him as he finally figures out this wave of emotion creeping up his spine.
excitement.
he was excited.
and now he remembers why he helped junko in the first place.
tw: junko enoshima, tragedy, blood (mild).
junko had a way of doing things, izuru realized.
most would call her unpredictable, disastrous, and a unbridled force of evil. and while most of what was said was true, even izuru could see the hidden routine junko loved to follow as she left the world to despair.
an example of this was that she always took him out to dance at 2pm, sharp.
he doesn’t know if there is a true reason, but no matter the weather, lighting, whatever events or meetings they had to attend, she would stop whatever she was doing just to dance with him.
izuru could have declined, seeing as how she would not be able to get the upper hand on him. however, the idea of what this all could lead to intrigued him enough to keep going.
every day was a different kind of dance. junko would decide which dance they would do the day before, giving the two time to practice or get the hang of what they were doing. then they would meet up at that same, old, dusty theater and dance on it’s stage. they performed to no one but themselves.
the elements could and would always reach them there. the theater’s roof had fallen down way before they reached the place. mold had grown into the old carpeting, giving homes to insects from all over. occasionally, a stray, malnourished animal would wonder there, flinching at the sight of the despairs. luckily, izuru knew what to do to take care of it.
the stage, despite everything around it, stayed mostly intake. perhaps junko had fixed it up, perhaps it was a miracle. izuru didn’t really care, since just from a glance, he could see that the stage would last for many more days to come.
the red sky stared at him today. it was raining; this almost filled him with concealed annoyance, if it weren’t for the fact he couldn’t feel. his suit was now wet, along with his long hair that would continue to get in his face all day.
he wasn’t told what dance they would do today. junko had only smiled that fake, overly happy smile of hers and walked off, probably to mess with mikan or servant again.
so today he was unprepared.
despite trying to connect the dots in his head, he couldn’t quite figure out what the would be doing today. that... feeling of confusion brought forth another emotion.
junko waved at him from the stage, a long poll in hand. it was bloodied, probably from smashing monokuma’s and random civilians on her way here. she hollered at him as he finally figures out this wave of emotion creeping up his spine.
excitement.
he was excited.
and now he remembers why he helped junko in the first place.
fanfics.shiba
Re: Phrog Fics
red reminded him of humanity. it was a very humane color.
it ran through his veins, connecting to his thoughts.
it leaked from all their appendages, spreading disease. despair ate away at the color, expanding and contracting as it overtook them.
and so red became despair.
and red became lonely.
it spread it's wings and flew above itself, finding something a bit more sincere than it knew.
humanity, too compact and lively, could not reach the blue skies above; red, desperate, named this inhumane peace hope.
hope did not like the desperate, and so the blue came down to wash over the cries of humanity. their screams would quiet as hope soon followed it's cleanse.
despair weeps at him, for he was it's son - they were all it's sons. he can do nothing, however, as he watches red freeze over, it's lips trembling, as unnatural peace takes it over.
hope, while silent, was dangerous; he saw it now. he saw the complete stillness of his land. he saw the cold stare hope gave him as he too started to shiver.
tranquility was quick to settle in as he too went out like a weak flame, leaving blue alone in it's new home.
unlike despair, however, hope was not one to get lonely.
it ran through his veins, connecting to his thoughts.
it leaked from all their appendages, spreading disease. despair ate away at the color, expanding and contracting as it overtook them.
and so red became despair.
and red became lonely.
it spread it's wings and flew above itself, finding something a bit more sincere than it knew.
humanity, too compact and lively, could not reach the blue skies above; red, desperate, named this inhumane peace hope.
hope did not like the desperate, and so the blue came down to wash over the cries of humanity. their screams would quiet as hope soon followed it's cleanse.
despair weeps at him, for he was it's son - they were all it's sons. he can do nothing, however, as he watches red freeze over, it's lips trembling, as unnatural peace takes it over.
hope, while silent, was dangerous; he saw it now. he saw the complete stillness of his land. he saw the cold stare hope gave him as he too started to shiver.
tranquility was quick to settle in as he too went out like a weak flame, leaving blue alone in it's new home.
unlike despair, however, hope was not one to get lonely.
fanfics.shiba
Re: Phrog Fics
i fall in line quite easily for someone barely even able to limp through life.
you sprint, hurdles never stopping you, as you pass me again and again.
i can see the difference between us now: while slow, i run in my own lane while you speed through the others.
it all bores you, doesn't it?
you've passed me so many times.
but i do not grow bored of seeing you go, for i take in the world around me.
your life might be grey and passing you by but mine is vibrant and lively.
run with me, kamukura-kun. maybe one day you will learn to slow down.
one day you will rest.
one day the sun might finally reach you.
it is all so despairing, isn't it?
to realize that while you breathe, you have never truly lived?
have you seen the stars, my hope? have you truly seen?
the way they come out at night to bathe you in their heavenly gift?
have you?
these thoughts take me as you run by me another time.
only this time, you look back and finally, for the first time-
stop.
hello there, kamukura.
i am so happy to have finally met you.
you sprint, hurdles never stopping you, as you pass me again and again.
i can see the difference between us now: while slow, i run in my own lane while you speed through the others.
it all bores you, doesn't it?
you've passed me so many times.
but i do not grow bored of seeing you go, for i take in the world around me.
your life might be grey and passing you by but mine is vibrant and lively.
run with me, kamukura-kun. maybe one day you will learn to slow down.
one day you will rest.
one day the sun might finally reach you.
it is all so despairing, isn't it?
to realize that while you breathe, you have never truly lived?
have you seen the stars, my hope? have you truly seen?
the way they come out at night to bathe you in their heavenly gift?
have you?
these thoughts take me as you run by me another time.
only this time, you look back and finally, for the first time-
stop.
hello there, kamukura.
i am so happy to have finally met you.
fanfics.shiba
Re: Phrog Fics
copy and pasted from ao3 so sorry the spacing is weird.
kamukura.
kamukura.
his kamukura izuru.
why must you torment him this way?
laughter threatens him, making sworn promises as it lies just behind his teeth. you can sense his discomfort, i am sure- so why is he still here?
why is it you hold him this way? speak to him this way? look at him this way?
his fragile heart can not take it.
komaeda’s soul rests on its knees, clutching at the being of yours; it prays to you, begging for this to end. this inner turmoil he experiences will only bore you. get in the way. you know this, do you not?
why is it he still wishes for more?
why is it, after all this time, you still don't kiss him?
your very presence scares him at times. a look into your eyes and komaeda can already see what it is you know.
so much. you know so much.
it is no matter, whether you can see his worried expression or not. he can feel your arm tighten around his waist, almost daring him to try and leave. you know. you know.
yet you do nothing.
komaeda wishes to kill you at times.
your talents are not real, your hope artificial.
that is what he wishes to say to you: "how dare you mock hope? your mere existence is a mockery to it all."
however, it would make no difference. and besides-
in a world of despair, can such hope even be considered fake?
your eyes close as you come to realize he’s stopped resisting. he gets tired so easily nowadays; his bones creak at the slightest of movements, showing his age and wither. you will be gone soon, his joints whisper, as they craze.
komaeda is.
so tired.
his kamukura never truly sleeps, instead, you listen in on the secrets of the wind as you feign innocence. your heart is steady but your senses are razor-sharp; komaeda has cut himself so many times on those sharp edges. it is now an expected dance you two partake in.
komaeda leaves with touch, you with control.
komaeda.
komaeda.
your komaeda nagito.
predictable, needy, and always serving.
surely it is ok? to treat yourself to simplicity?
komaeda's love wraps you in a warm blanket.
it is as boring as predicted.
but you cling onto it anyway, knowing there will soon be a day where this is gone.
soon be a day where you are alone.
how. boring.
kamukura.
kamukura.
his kamukura izuru.
why must you torment him this way?
laughter threatens him, making sworn promises as it lies just behind his teeth. you can sense his discomfort, i am sure- so why is he still here?
why is it you hold him this way? speak to him this way? look at him this way?
his fragile heart can not take it.
komaeda’s soul rests on its knees, clutching at the being of yours; it prays to you, begging for this to end. this inner turmoil he experiences will only bore you. get in the way. you know this, do you not?
why is it he still wishes for more?
why is it, after all this time, you still don't kiss him?
your very presence scares him at times. a look into your eyes and komaeda can already see what it is you know.
so much. you know so much.
it is no matter, whether you can see his worried expression or not. he can feel your arm tighten around his waist, almost daring him to try and leave. you know. you know.
yet you do nothing.
komaeda wishes to kill you at times.
your talents are not real, your hope artificial.
that is what he wishes to say to you: "how dare you mock hope? your mere existence is a mockery to it all."
however, it would make no difference. and besides-
in a world of despair, can such hope even be considered fake?
your eyes close as you come to realize he’s stopped resisting. he gets tired so easily nowadays; his bones creak at the slightest of movements, showing his age and wither. you will be gone soon, his joints whisper, as they craze.
komaeda is.
so tired.
his kamukura never truly sleeps, instead, you listen in on the secrets of the wind as you feign innocence. your heart is steady but your senses are razor-sharp; komaeda has cut himself so many times on those sharp edges. it is now an expected dance you two partake in.
komaeda leaves with touch, you with control.
komaeda.
komaeda.
your komaeda nagito.
predictable, needy, and always serving.
surely it is ok? to treat yourself to simplicity?
komaeda's love wraps you in a warm blanket.
it is as boring as predicted.
but you cling onto it anyway, knowing there will soon be a day where this is gone.
soon be a day where you are alone.
how. boring.
fanfics.shiba
Re: Phrog Fics
repost from AO3 :')
@bagel
<333 night izuru!!
his hands shook slightly before he put the phone down, taking a deep breath. it was late, around 12am in the morning when izuru realized that his feelings might be a bit more than he could take.
it didn’t feel different from any other friendship he had had, it was just that...
pulling his pillow from under his head, izuru groans into it, annoyed. feelings were oh so difficult; he wishes there was some sort of way to switch them off and pretend he didn’t need anything the world had to offer. then he could work on his goals or at least get somewhere in his life. instead, he was currently a stupid college student with terrible back pain and, now, apparently feelings for some online friend he had only known for half a year.
was that enough time for feelings to blossom? maybe he should be a bit more careful with this. after all, he had thought he was aromantic after all these years of no crushes, dates, or partners. izuru brings a hand to his chest before dropping it onto his stomach, turning his head to glare at his phone.
stupid feelings, stupid stupid feelings.
however...
izuru knew that one thing was true, despite not being able to pinpoint what exactly it was he was feeling.
he liked nagito.
he liked nagito a lot.
nagito was sweet, kind, funny, caring, and was most things that people never were around izuru.
maybe he was just being clingy, but izuru couldn’t help but smile whenever a message from him came up on his phone. he couldn’t help but give a small laugh at their jokes. and he couldn’t help but wish to combust whenever he was told he was loved, that nagito loved him and that he was one of his closest friends.
he couldn’t help it all.
and so izuru went to sleep with his face hidden in his pillow, trying and failing to get a grasp on his emotions.
@iizuru
goodnight nagito.
<3
@bagel
<333 night izuru!!
his hands shook slightly before he put the phone down, taking a deep breath. it was late, around 12am in the morning when izuru realized that his feelings might be a bit more than he could take.
it didn’t feel different from any other friendship he had had, it was just that...
pulling his pillow from under his head, izuru groans into it, annoyed. feelings were oh so difficult; he wishes there was some sort of way to switch them off and pretend he didn’t need anything the world had to offer. then he could work on his goals or at least get somewhere in his life. instead, he was currently a stupid college student with terrible back pain and, now, apparently feelings for some online friend he had only known for half a year.
was that enough time for feelings to blossom? maybe he should be a bit more careful with this. after all, he had thought he was aromantic after all these years of no crushes, dates, or partners. izuru brings a hand to his chest before dropping it onto his stomach, turning his head to glare at his phone.
stupid feelings, stupid stupid feelings.
however...
izuru knew that one thing was true, despite not being able to pinpoint what exactly it was he was feeling.
he liked nagito.
he liked nagito a lot.
nagito was sweet, kind, funny, caring, and was most things that people never were around izuru.
maybe he was just being clingy, but izuru couldn’t help but smile whenever a message from him came up on his phone. he couldn’t help but give a small laugh at their jokes. and he couldn’t help but wish to combust whenever he was told he was loved, that nagito loved him and that he was one of his closest friends.
he couldn’t help it all.
and so izuru went to sleep with his face hidden in his pillow, trying and failing to get a grasp on his emotions.
@iizuru
goodnight nagito.
<3
fanfics.shiba
Re: Phrog Fics
copy and pasted from ao3 :"P spacing is weird sorry
tw for self hatred and like wishing to not be alive on the last line h. like it's just one line but be safe yall.
Did he feel?
He had always thought not, that he was only what others wished for him to be.
Emotionless. in power. hopeful.
But, with Komaeda... it felt like he could. Feel, that is.
Komaeda looked up to him. Komaeda worshipped him.
And he couldn't be what the other wanted.
Apparently.
At first, it wasn't much; the feeling.
It was a small twinge of... something.
Komaeda ignored him when he was asked to leave. He would mumble.
Komaeda would smile in that carefree way; why was he so carefree?
Izuru would wish to be alone, his wish unanswered.
Then it was more. It grew. And it confused him.
Komaeda would compare himself to trash and look at him, expectingly.
He would stay silent; this took all his will.
Why would Izuru care? If Komaeda thought himself to be lowly?
He didn't. He couldn't.
He didn't want to care, he shouldn't care; why was he caring?
His throat felt raw.
Komaeda always seemed to look disappointed afterward.
It hurt so much.
Komaeda started to notice.
It felt like the luckster was doubting his ability; "Is this truly the hope I was looking for? This unruly force?"
No, it wasn't. Komaeda's hope didn't exist.
Please leave now...
Komaeda never left, despite his efforts.
Despite the luckster's doubts.
Izuru felt so small compared to this feeling.
Ache.
He just wanted to be alone again.
Komaeda's love... no, admiration, was too much.
Komaeda saw it as helping.
How could this ever help him?
What did he want from him?
"Hope was an absolute force of good."
Was he good?
The feelings began to burst, that day.
Komaeda compared him to the sun; a star.
He almost agreed, nodded, continued on with the ache.
"I don't think i've said this, kamukura-san, but..."
He can't think of those last few words.
He doesn't want this.
Why did it hurt so much?
Wasn't this supposed to be a positive thing? This attention? Adoration?
"Don't."
"Excuse me?"
"Don't love me."
"Are you ok? Kamukura-san, we can stop walking and sit down if you-"
"No. I want you to leave. Stop. Just- stop, please."
"...Ah. I knew it. I shouldn't have thought you would wish to be around scum like m-"
"NO- I mean, it's not. That. I just..."
Just what?
Why was this so frustrating?
Having someone love you?
Did he love komaeda back?
What if he did?
Would they date? No?
How did this all work?
Why is it that this simple feeling was what stumped him?
Was there even a name for what he felt?
"...I just never asked for this."
"Asked for what?"
"...You. I don't understand... why you're still here..."
"...What do you even want from me?"
Did he hate himself?
He never pondered it.
He knew he was smart.
Strong.
Logical.
But knowing that doesn't mean he loved himself.
He cared for komaeda.
Maybe.
It's so hard to know these things when you weren't taught to.
He wishes he were dead.
tw for self hatred and like wishing to not be alive on the last line h. like it's just one line but be safe yall.
Did he feel?
He had always thought not, that he was only what others wished for him to be.
Emotionless. in power. hopeful.
But, with Komaeda... it felt like he could. Feel, that is.
Komaeda looked up to him. Komaeda worshipped him.
And he couldn't be what the other wanted.
Apparently.
At first, it wasn't much; the feeling.
It was a small twinge of... something.
Komaeda ignored him when he was asked to leave. He would mumble.
Komaeda would smile in that carefree way; why was he so carefree?
Izuru would wish to be alone, his wish unanswered.
Then it was more. It grew. And it confused him.
Komaeda would compare himself to trash and look at him, expectingly.
He would stay silent; this took all his will.
Why would Izuru care? If Komaeda thought himself to be lowly?
He didn't. He couldn't.
He didn't want to care, he shouldn't care; why was he caring?
His throat felt raw.
Komaeda always seemed to look disappointed afterward.
It hurt so much.
Komaeda started to notice.
It felt like the luckster was doubting his ability; "Is this truly the hope I was looking for? This unruly force?"
No, it wasn't. Komaeda's hope didn't exist.
Please leave now...
Komaeda never left, despite his efforts.
Despite the luckster's doubts.
Izuru felt so small compared to this feeling.
Ache.
He just wanted to be alone again.
Komaeda's love... no, admiration, was too much.
Komaeda saw it as helping.
How could this ever help him?
What did he want from him?
"Hope was an absolute force of good."
Was he good?
The feelings began to burst, that day.
Komaeda compared him to the sun; a star.
He almost agreed, nodded, continued on with the ache.
"I don't think i've said this, kamukura-san, but..."
He can't think of those last few words.
He doesn't want this.
Why did it hurt so much?
Wasn't this supposed to be a positive thing? This attention? Adoration?
"Don't."
"Excuse me?"
"Don't love me."
"Are you ok? Kamukura-san, we can stop walking and sit down if you-"
"No. I want you to leave. Stop. Just- stop, please."
"...Ah. I knew it. I shouldn't have thought you would wish to be around scum like m-"
"NO- I mean, it's not. That. I just..."
Just what?
Why was this so frustrating?
Having someone love you?
Did he love komaeda back?
What if he did?
Would they date? No?
How did this all work?
Why is it that this simple feeling was what stumped him?
Was there even a name for what he felt?
"...I just never asked for this."
"Asked for what?"
"...You. I don't understand... why you're still here..."
"...What do you even want from me?"
Did he hate himself?
He never pondered it.
He knew he was smart.
Strong.
Logical.
But knowing that doesn't mean he loved himself.
He cared for komaeda.
Maybe.
It's so hard to know these things when you weren't taught to.
He wishes he were dead.
fanfics.shiba
Re: Phrog Fics
ahh okay. this is an angel and human au. fluff.
izuru is the angel and nagito is the human - nagito helps izuru feel and such fluff blah blah.
Heaven was boring.
Izuru wasn’t quite able to describe heaven, the words nonexistent and the environment unique. However, he did know that it was boring. No conflict, struggle, motivations, or goals; just a bunch of souls in one place, socializing and finding peace as he and the other angels were stuck watching the humans of Earth. He didn’t even truly have an identity, nor feelings; he wasn’t even a ‘he.’ His name and pronouns were given to him by his creator, his purpose and identity there with him since day one.
But it never really felt like his.
Izuru, first of all, didn’t feel like a ‘he.’ Izuru felt like… there was nothing there to label. He has watched as other angels adhered to their roles and found solace in the genders they were assigned, however, he couldn’t seem to do the same. Maybe that was a reason as to why the others avoided him.
His name didn’t fit either - ‘Izuru Kamukura.’ There were plenty of Izuru Kamukuras, angels or humans. It didn’t feel right, however, no matter how hard Izuru thought, he couldn’t come up with a new name.
In all honesty, Izuru envied the humans of Earth.
The ones with personalities and interests; the ones with emotions and goals. He didn’t have any of those. Izuru had no goals for his future, no likes or dislikes, personality traits, or emotions to express.
Just the endless void that consumed him as he did his everyday work. Boredom.
Sometimes, when alone, Izuru would let himself succumb to it - just to finally feel the numbing desire for it all to end. Those were the only moments he can recall emotion.
It sounded way worse than it actually was, he realized.
Izuru sits down on the park bench and takes out the contract, disguised as paper in a notebook to human eyes. Just in case.
Komaeda Nagito. 21. Frontotemporal dementia. Upcoming Cancer. Death will be X/XX/XXXX.
“Hm.” Compared to his own, boring name, this person's name was unique. A strange name, ‘Komaeda Nagito.’ It didn’t seem that well put together - the thought caused brief amusement.
Izuru was destined to meet his human here; he will have to befriend them, maybe even become their lover, and stay with them for as long as his mission would take him, a year being the limit. Becoming a human’s lover was dangerous though; falling for one was acknowledged as an act of sin, one that would call for immediate banishment. So, to be their lover, you must never truly fall. How bothersome, Izuru wouldn’t ever do that…
‘I shouldn’t get so worked up. You’ve done this since the beginning; it is just another -’
Izuru is interrupted by a hit to the back of the head, a book falling next to him. He winces before turning around, spotting the culprit.
“Ah, apologies, Mx! The wind took the book out of my hands,,’ The man walks over and smiles, leaning over the back of the bench. A singular sound is what catches Izuru’s attention first - or was it a word?
“‘Mx?’”
“Hm? Ah - it’s an English gender-neutral term. Since I don’t know your gender…” The man shrugs, nervously laughing as he picks up his book and closes it gently. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience! And for the uncalled for honorific -”
Izuru shakes his head in response, excessively before staring. He sits upright and tilts his head towards the man - person. “It is fine. I have just never heard that before.” ‘I like it.’
He liked something.
The other smiles at him before nodding. “Well, now you have! I’m Komaeda Nagito, by the way. Oh - and I’m a man. Since that was the topic of discussion; he/him.” He holds out his hand, waiting for a handshake on return. Izuru stares before slowly reaching out and shaking his hand back, unused to it. People usually met him in workplaces, without formality, since they already knew his name by working with him; but, he supposes meeting Komaeda was meant to be different?
“I am called Kamukura Izuru. And. I am a…” Izuru frowns as he thinks. ‘What am I?’
Apparently, he must have taken too long, as Komaeda clears his throat and pulls his hand away. “If you don’t know, that’s fine! What pronouns do you currently use then?”
“He/Him.”
“If you are okay with revealing this as well, what is your biological sex? If you don’t want to tell me or anyone, please don’t!”
“… I think. Female. I think.” This response earns a raised eyebrow in return, Komaeda staring. Ah, he must have said something strange.
Komaeda then smiles again, nodding. “Okay! Well, to make this less awkward and personal, I’m intersex. So I’m, sort of, similar. Gosh, I’m so sorry, I must be making you so uncomfortable! It was just that you seemed confused; I apologize greatly, I hadn’t meant to -”
With a sigh, Izuru stands with a shake of his head, the other going silent as he stares. “No. It is fine. I hadn’t found it personal or invasive at all.”
izuru is the angel and nagito is the human - nagito helps izuru feel and such fluff blah blah.
——————
Heaven was boring.
Izuru wasn’t quite able to describe heaven, the words nonexistent and the environment unique. However, he did know that it was boring. No conflict, struggle, motivations, or goals; just a bunch of souls in one place, socializing and finding peace as he and the other angels were stuck watching the humans of Earth. He didn’t even truly have an identity, nor feelings; he wasn’t even a ‘he.’ His name and pronouns were given to him by his creator, his purpose and identity there with him since day one.
But it never really felt like his.
Izuru, first of all, didn’t feel like a ‘he.’ Izuru felt like… there was nothing there to label. He has watched as other angels adhered to their roles and found solace in the genders they were assigned, however, he couldn’t seem to do the same. Maybe that was a reason as to why the others avoided him.
His name didn’t fit either - ‘Izuru Kamukura.’ There were plenty of Izuru Kamukuras, angels or humans. It didn’t feel right, however, no matter how hard Izuru thought, he couldn’t come up with a new name.
In all honesty, Izuru envied the humans of Earth.
The ones with personalities and interests; the ones with emotions and goals. He didn’t have any of those. Izuru had no goals for his future, no likes or dislikes, personality traits, or emotions to express.
Just the endless void that consumed him as he did his everyday work. Boredom.
Sometimes, when alone, Izuru would let himself succumb to it - just to finally feel the numbing desire for it all to end. Those were the only moments he can recall emotion.
It sounded way worse than it actually was, he realized.
-
He was sent to Earth for about a single human year. Izuru had done missions like this plenty of times; watch over his assigned human, up until their death or until a true goal of theirs is fulfilled. A year was actually a short amount of time - was his human seriously that close to death? How unfortunate.Izuru sits down on the park bench and takes out the contract, disguised as paper in a notebook to human eyes. Just in case.
Komaeda Nagito. 21. Frontotemporal dementia. Upcoming Cancer. Death will be X/XX/XXXX.
“Hm.” Compared to his own, boring name, this person's name was unique. A strange name, ‘Komaeda Nagito.’ It didn’t seem that well put together - the thought caused brief amusement.
Izuru was destined to meet his human here; he will have to befriend them, maybe even become their lover, and stay with them for as long as his mission would take him, a year being the limit. Becoming a human’s lover was dangerous though; falling for one was acknowledged as an act of sin, one that would call for immediate banishment. So, to be their lover, you must never truly fall. How bothersome, Izuru wouldn’t ever do that…
‘I shouldn’t get so worked up. You’ve done this since the beginning; it is just another -’
Izuru is interrupted by a hit to the back of the head, a book falling next to him. He winces before turning around, spotting the culprit.
“Ah, apologies, Mx! The wind took the book out of my hands,,’ The man walks over and smiles, leaning over the back of the bench. A singular sound is what catches Izuru’s attention first - or was it a word?
“‘Mx?’”
“Hm? Ah - it’s an English gender-neutral term. Since I don’t know your gender…” The man shrugs, nervously laughing as he picks up his book and closes it gently. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience! And for the uncalled for honorific -”
Izuru shakes his head in response, excessively before staring. He sits upright and tilts his head towards the man - person. “It is fine. I have just never heard that before.” ‘I like it.’
He liked something.
The other smiles at him before nodding. “Well, now you have! I’m Komaeda Nagito, by the way. Oh - and I’m a man. Since that was the topic of discussion; he/him.” He holds out his hand, waiting for a handshake on return. Izuru stares before slowly reaching out and shaking his hand back, unused to it. People usually met him in workplaces, without formality, since they already knew his name by working with him; but, he supposes meeting Komaeda was meant to be different?
“I am called Kamukura Izuru. And. I am a…” Izuru frowns as he thinks. ‘What am I?’
Apparently, he must have taken too long, as Komaeda clears his throat and pulls his hand away. “If you don’t know, that’s fine! What pronouns do you currently use then?”
“He/Him.”
“If you are okay with revealing this as well, what is your biological sex? If you don’t want to tell me or anyone, please don’t!”
“… I think. Female. I think.” This response earns a raised eyebrow in return, Komaeda staring. Ah, he must have said something strange.
Komaeda then smiles again, nodding. “Okay! Well, to make this less awkward and personal, I’m intersex. So I’m, sort of, similar. Gosh, I’m so sorry, I must be making you so uncomfortable! It was just that you seemed confused; I apologize greatly, I hadn’t meant to -”
With a sigh, Izuru stands with a shake of his head, the other going silent as he stares. “No. It is fine. I hadn’t found it personal or invasive at all.”
WIP/NOT FINISHED
fanfics.shiba
Re: Phrog Fics
updatedA!! and finished!! chapter one for this fic 
- imma put it on ao3 later
i got my friend to beta read they're cool
Heaven was boring.
Izuru wasn’t quite able to describe heaven, the words nonexistent and the environment unique. However, he did know that it was boring. No conflict, struggle, motivations, or goals; just a bunch of souls in one place, socializing and finding peace as he and the other angels were stuck watching the humans of Earth. He didn’t even truly have an identity, nor feelings; he wasn’t even a ‘he.’ His name and pronouns were given to him by his creator, his purpose and identity there with him since day one.
But it never really felt like his.
Izuru, first of all, didn’t feel like a ‘he.’ Izuru felt like… there was nothing there to label. He has watched as other angels adhered to their roles and found solace in the genders they were assigned, however, he couldn’t seem to do the same. Maybe that was a reason as to why the others avoided him.
His name didn’t fit either - ‘Izuru Kamukura.’ There were plenty of Izuru Kamukuras, angels or humans. It didn’t feel right, however, no matter how hard Izuru thought, he couldn’t come up with a new name.
In all honesty, Izuru envied the humans of Earth.
The ones with personalities and interests; the ones with emotions and goals. He didn’t have any of those. Izuru had no goals for his future, no likes or dislikes, personality traits, or emotions to express.
Just the endless void that consumed him as he did his everyday work. Boredom.
Sometimes, when alone, Izuru would let himself succumb to it - just to finally feel the numbing desire for it all to end. Those were the only moments he can recall emotion.
It sounded way worse than it actually was, he realized.
He was sent to Earth for about a single human year. Izuru had done missions like these plenty of times; watch over his assigned human, up until their death or until a true goal of theirs is fulfilled. A year was actually a short amount of time - was his human seriously that close to death? How unfortunate.
Izuru sits down on the park bench and takes out the contract, disguised as paper in a notebook to human eyes. Just in case.
Komaeda Nagito. 21. Frontotemporal dementia. Upcoming Cancer. Death will be X/XX/XXXX.
“Hm.” Compared to his own, boring name, this person’s was unique. A strange name, ‘Komaeda Nagito.’ It didn’t seem that well put together - the thought caused brief amusement.
Izuru was destined to meet his human here; he will have to befriend them, maybe even become their lover, and stay with them for as long as his mission would take him, a year being the limit. Becoming a human’s lover was dangerous though; falling for one was acknowledged as an act of sin, one that would call for immediate banishment. So, to be their lover, you must never truly fall. How bothersome, Izuru wouldn’t ever do that…
‘I shouldn’t get so worked up. You’ve done this since the beginning; it is just another -’
Izuru is interrupted by a hit to the back of the head, a book falling next to him. He winces before turning around, spotting the culprit.
“Ah, apologies, Mx! The wind took the book out of my hands,,’
‘The wind…?’
The man walks over and smiles, leaning over the back of the bench. A singular sound is what catches Izuru’s attention first - or was it a word?
“‘Mx?’”
“Hm? Ah - it’s an English gender-neutral term. Since I don’t know your gender…” The man shrugs, nervously laughing as he picks up his book and closes it gently. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience! And for the uncalled for honorific -”
Izuru shakes his head in response, excessively before staring at the other. He sits upright and tilts his head towards the man - person. “It is fine. I have just never heard that before.” ‘I like it.’
He liked something.
The other smiles at him before nodding. “Well, now you have! I’m Komaeda Nagito, by the way. Oh - and I’m a man. Since that was the topic of discussion; he/him.” He holds out his hand, waiting for a handshake on return. Izuru stares before slowly reaching out and shaking his hand back, unused to it. People usually met him in workplaces, without formality, since they already knew his name by working with him; but, he supposes meeting Komaeda was meant to be different?
“I am called Kamukura Izuru. And,, I am a…” Izuru frowns as he thinks. ‘What am I?’
Apparently, he must have taken too long, as Komaeda clears his throat and pulls his hand away. “If you don’t know, that’s fine! What pronouns do you currently use?”
“He/Him.”
“Ah okay!,, So, what are you doing this evening?”
“… Sitting here.” This response earns a raised eyebrow in return, Komaeda staring. Ah, he must have said something strange; perhaps too literal.
Komaeda then smiles again, nodding. “Okay! Well, to make this less awkward, I was reading! Of course. I apologize greatly for intruding on your sitting! You probably hate me now, haha -!”
With a sigh, Izuru stands with a shake of his head, the other going silent and staring. “No. It is fine. I don’t hate you.” He hums softly, turning to Komaeda and nodding once. “Are you currently free? For discussion, of course.” ‘Might as well start with forming a relationship now.’
Komaeda blinks once, now looking up at Izuru before chuckling a bit. He stands up straight as well, still staring.
“Is something wrong?” Izuru inquiries.
Komaeda seems to finally snap out of it, cheeks flushing red as he nervously chuckles. “Nothing! It’s just that…” He closes his eyes for a moment before smiling softly, catching Izuru a bit off guard. “You look very lovely. I hadn’t realized the length of your hair until you stood up, however, I like it. I think it suits you.”
“… Oh.” Instinctively, Izuru touches his hair, twirling it with a finger while looking away from the man. “Mm. Alright. May you answer my question?”
“Mhm, of course! I’m free, I was just relaxing and catching up on my book. Until, well, the book hit you in the back of your head,,”
“Alright then.” Komaeda perks up as Izuru walks up behind the bench, next to him, and puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Let’s go get something to eat. I wish to get to know you.”
- imma put it on ao3 lateri got my friend to beta read they're cool
Heaven was boring.
Izuru wasn’t quite able to describe heaven, the words nonexistent and the environment unique. However, he did know that it was boring. No conflict, struggle, motivations, or goals; just a bunch of souls in one place, socializing and finding peace as he and the other angels were stuck watching the humans of Earth. He didn’t even truly have an identity, nor feelings; he wasn’t even a ‘he.’ His name and pronouns were given to him by his creator, his purpose and identity there with him since day one.
But it never really felt like his.
Izuru, first of all, didn’t feel like a ‘he.’ Izuru felt like… there was nothing there to label. He has watched as other angels adhered to their roles and found solace in the genders they were assigned, however, he couldn’t seem to do the same. Maybe that was a reason as to why the others avoided him.
His name didn’t fit either - ‘Izuru Kamukura.’ There were plenty of Izuru Kamukuras, angels or humans. It didn’t feel right, however, no matter how hard Izuru thought, he couldn’t come up with a new name.
In all honesty, Izuru envied the humans of Earth.
The ones with personalities and interests; the ones with emotions and goals. He didn’t have any of those. Izuru had no goals for his future, no likes or dislikes, personality traits, or emotions to express.
Just the endless void that consumed him as he did his everyday work. Boredom.
Sometimes, when alone, Izuru would let himself succumb to it - just to finally feel the numbing desire for it all to end. Those were the only moments he can recall emotion.
It sounded way worse than it actually was, he realized.
-
He was sent to Earth for about a single human year. Izuru had done missions like these plenty of times; watch over his assigned human, up until their death or until a true goal of theirs is fulfilled. A year was actually a short amount of time - was his human seriously that close to death? How unfortunate.
Izuru sits down on the park bench and takes out the contract, disguised as paper in a notebook to human eyes. Just in case.
Komaeda Nagito. 21. Frontotemporal dementia. Upcoming Cancer. Death will be X/XX/XXXX.
“Hm.” Compared to his own, boring name, this person’s was unique. A strange name, ‘Komaeda Nagito.’ It didn’t seem that well put together - the thought caused brief amusement.
Izuru was destined to meet his human here; he will have to befriend them, maybe even become their lover, and stay with them for as long as his mission would take him, a year being the limit. Becoming a human’s lover was dangerous though; falling for one was acknowledged as an act of sin, one that would call for immediate banishment. So, to be their lover, you must never truly fall. How bothersome, Izuru wouldn’t ever do that…
‘I shouldn’t get so worked up. You’ve done this since the beginning; it is just another -’
Izuru is interrupted by a hit to the back of the head, a book falling next to him. He winces before turning around, spotting the culprit.
“Ah, apologies, Mx! The wind took the book out of my hands,,’
‘The wind…?’
The man walks over and smiles, leaning over the back of the bench. A singular sound is what catches Izuru’s attention first - or was it a word?
“‘Mx?’”
“Hm? Ah - it’s an English gender-neutral term. Since I don’t know your gender…” The man shrugs, nervously laughing as he picks up his book and closes it gently. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience! And for the uncalled for honorific -”
Izuru shakes his head in response, excessively before staring at the other. He sits upright and tilts his head towards the man - person. “It is fine. I have just never heard that before.” ‘I like it.’
He liked something.
The other smiles at him before nodding. “Well, now you have! I’m Komaeda Nagito, by the way. Oh - and I’m a man. Since that was the topic of discussion; he/him.” He holds out his hand, waiting for a handshake on return. Izuru stares before slowly reaching out and shaking his hand back, unused to it. People usually met him in workplaces, without formality, since they already knew his name by working with him; but, he supposes meeting Komaeda was meant to be different?
“I am called Kamukura Izuru. And,, I am a…” Izuru frowns as he thinks. ‘What am I?’
Apparently, he must have taken too long, as Komaeda clears his throat and pulls his hand away. “If you don’t know, that’s fine! What pronouns do you currently use?”
“He/Him.”
“Ah okay!,, So, what are you doing this evening?”
“… Sitting here.” This response earns a raised eyebrow in return, Komaeda staring. Ah, he must have said something strange; perhaps too literal.
Komaeda then smiles again, nodding. “Okay! Well, to make this less awkward, I was reading! Of course. I apologize greatly for intruding on your sitting! You probably hate me now, haha -!”
With a sigh, Izuru stands with a shake of his head, the other going silent and staring. “No. It is fine. I don’t hate you.” He hums softly, turning to Komaeda and nodding once. “Are you currently free? For discussion, of course.” ‘Might as well start with forming a relationship now.’
Komaeda blinks once, now looking up at Izuru before chuckling a bit. He stands up straight as well, still staring.
“Is something wrong?” Izuru inquiries.
Komaeda seems to finally snap out of it, cheeks flushing red as he nervously chuckles. “Nothing! It’s just that…” He closes his eyes for a moment before smiling softly, catching Izuru a bit off guard. “You look very lovely. I hadn’t realized the length of your hair until you stood up, however, I like it. I think it suits you.”
“… Oh.” Instinctively, Izuru touches his hair, twirling it with a finger while looking away from the man. “Mm. Alright. May you answer my question?”
“Mhm, of course! I’m free, I was just relaxing and catching up on my book. Until, well, the book hit you in the back of your head,,”
“Alright then.” Komaeda perks up as Izuru walks up behind the bench, next to him, and puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Let’s go get something to eat. I wish to get to know you.”
fanfics.shiba
Re: Phrog Fics
"You all have incredible talents, don't you?... If only I had a talent also."
"It doesn't make a difference whether you have a talent or not. Well, what I mean is, that that isn't the end goal."
"Huh? But -"
"You have greater freedom than we do. All I have are games... But. You can go anywhere and become anything. That's pretty amazing, I think."
The Main Course building blew up again; it's started to become a routine now. Apparently, one of the students got a strength-enhancing drug and decided that the classroom was the perfect place to pick a fight. Nanami, later at the fountain, fills him in on more details.
The fountain. It's started to become a place where people, people far better than him in every way, come to talk to him and give him advice.
Yukizome Chisa had done it -
Kazou Tengan had done it -
And of course, Nanami had done it before everyone else.
It seemed like he was attracting all these different kinds of people for no particular reason; people like Komaeda, who pressured him to feel the worst about himself. People like that random kid who he met on the first day, who seemed like their mind could never stop racing - they always came to him too, just sit with him like they needed someone else there to clear their head. And then people like Nanami, who tried their hardest to show him the positives of his situation and tried to help him when it came to feeling better about himself.
It was honestly getting a bit exhausting having to be around such differing personalities all the time.
That person from the first day of school doesn’t visit him anymore.
Hajime frowns as he looks around the fountain - Chiaki was sitting down on the bench behind him, playing her game.
“What’s their name?”
”I,, don’t know. I never asked. And they wear differently gendered uniforms depending on the day.”
”Oh. That’s tough - did you know them well?”
Hajime sighs and sits down next to Chiaki with a frown. “Sort of? They didn’t talk a lot, but we seemed close enough. They mentioned their family sometimes, they don’t actually have any other friends, and they’re in a different class then I am…”
”So you don’t know them.”
”,, No.” He laughs awkwardly, crossing his arms and looking away embarrassed. “But I’m still worried. It’s been a week now.”
Chiaki turns her game off and smiles at Hajime, putting a hand on his arm. “I’m sure they’re fine, Hajime.”
“… Yeah, you’re right.” He sighs.
“Probably just some family junk.”
He was dubbed ‘Izuru Kamukura’ the moment he woke.
He was given a purpose - to spread hope using his many talents - the moment he woke.
He was given a hospital gown and room the moment he woke.
He was given a puzzle to solve the moment he woke.
And then he was given nothing else.
Izuru finds his existence to be boring already.
The dark walls of his prison stared at him, watching as he once again completed another useless puzzle in less than a minute. His hospital gown felt unpleasant and ill on his skin as he moved around in it, picking up puzzle pieces and placing them down. His hair got in his face as it was knotted and tangled - shampoo and conditioner weren’t offered in his prison. Neither was a bathroom.
Izuru’s at least happy that he hasn’t had to go to the bathroom yet. Having only had food once a day.
This all didn’t feel like what he should be doing - what should be preparing him for the future. It all just felt dull.
No memories. No hobbies. No emotions.
Izuru Kamukura, the Ultimate Hope, felt dull. Like if he were to die, it’d make no difference…
Puzzle complete.
Izuru sighs as he pushes the puzzle away, now waiting for a new one to be put into his room.
This was all so boring.
Nagito tilted his head, staring. Specifically at the hidden door that was behind a library bookshelf.
’Hm. Such bad luck…’ He had been trying to pick out a book for the upcoming test; the reserve course assigned the students plenty of them.
But then, miraculously, the shelf had fallen, revealing a door that seemed to be sealed, stuck in the wall without a handle. How strange.
”… Ah, this is none of my business,, but.”
Nagito sighs; he couldn’t help but be curious. He gently pushes against the door, watching as it went inwards and then slid to the side, revealing a small passage.
”A useless reserve uncovering a mysterious passageway under the school. I wonder what sort of luck has now befallen me…”
He walks through, to the passageway, smiling as he made his way down.
"It doesn't make a difference whether you have a talent or not. Well, what I mean is, that that isn't the end goal."
"Huh? But -"
"You have greater freedom than we do. All I have are games... But. You can go anywhere and become anything. That's pretty amazing, I think."
❤︎
The Main Course building blew up again; it's started to become a routine now. Apparently, one of the students got a strength-enhancing drug and decided that the classroom was the perfect place to pick a fight. Nanami, later at the fountain, fills him in on more details.
The fountain. It's started to become a place where people, people far better than him in every way, come to talk to him and give him advice.
Yukizome Chisa had done it -
"Everything starts with the belief in yourself, Hinata!"
Kazou Tengan had done it -
"Hope comes from people acting like people. I hope you understand that. Do not fear Normalcy."
And of course, Nanami had done it before everyone else.
It seemed like he was attracting all these different kinds of people for no particular reason; people like Komaeda, who pressured him to feel the worst about himself. People like that random kid who he met on the first day, who seemed like their mind could never stop racing - they always came to him too, just sit with him like they needed someone else there to clear their head. And then people like Nanami, who tried their hardest to show him the positives of his situation and tried to help him when it came to feeling better about himself.
It was honestly getting a bit exhausting having to be around such differing personalities all the time.
❤︎
That person from the first day of school doesn’t visit him anymore.
Hajime frowns as he looks around the fountain - Chiaki was sitting down on the bench behind him, playing her game.
“What’s their name?”
”I,, don’t know. I never asked. And they wear differently gendered uniforms depending on the day.”
”Oh. That’s tough - did you know them well?”
Hajime sighs and sits down next to Chiaki with a frown. “Sort of? They didn’t talk a lot, but we seemed close enough. They mentioned their family sometimes, they don’t actually have any other friends, and they’re in a different class then I am…”
”So you don’t know them.”
”,, No.” He laughs awkwardly, crossing his arms and looking away embarrassed. “But I’m still worried. It’s been a week now.”
Chiaki turns her game off and smiles at Hajime, putting a hand on his arm. “I’m sure they’re fine, Hajime.”
“… Yeah, you’re right.” He sighs.
“Probably just some family junk.”
❤︎
He was dubbed ‘Izuru Kamukura’ the moment he woke.
He was given a purpose - to spread hope using his many talents - the moment he woke.
He was given a hospital gown and room the moment he woke.
He was given a puzzle to solve the moment he woke.
And then he was given nothing else.
Izuru finds his existence to be boring already.
The dark walls of his prison stared at him, watching as he once again completed another useless puzzle in less than a minute. His hospital gown felt unpleasant and ill on his skin as he moved around in it, picking up puzzle pieces and placing them down. His hair got in his face as it was knotted and tangled - shampoo and conditioner weren’t offered in his prison. Neither was a bathroom.
Izuru’s at least happy that he hasn’t had to go to the bathroom yet. Having only had food once a day.
This all didn’t feel like what he should be doing - what should be preparing him for the future. It all just felt dull.
No memories. No hobbies. No emotions.
Izuru Kamukura, the Ultimate Hope, felt dull. Like if he were to die, it’d make no difference…
Puzzle complete.
Izuru sighs as he pushes the puzzle away, now waiting for a new one to be put into his room.
This was all so boring.
❤︎
Nagito tilted his head, staring. Specifically at the hidden door that was behind a library bookshelf.
’Hm. Such bad luck…’ He had been trying to pick out a book for the upcoming test; the reserve course assigned the students plenty of them.
But then, miraculously, the shelf had fallen, revealing a door that seemed to be sealed, stuck in the wall without a handle. How strange.
”… Ah, this is none of my business,, but.”
Nagito sighs; he couldn’t help but be curious. He gently pushes against the door, watching as it went inwards and then slid to the side, revealing a small passage.
”A useless reserve uncovering a mysterious passageway under the school. I wonder what sort of luck has now befallen me…”
He walks through, to the passageway, smiling as he made his way down.
fanfics.shiba