Phrog Fics

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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Wed Dec 15, 2021 3:10 pm

please consider reading this fic on ao3!!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/34779 ... s/86598058





Izuru stared.

The intruder stared back.



This was all new.




❤︎





Nagito hummed softly, tilting his head to the side. The other in the room stares back at him almost aggressively, eyes wide but expression null.

“… Hello? I apologize for the intrusion! I had found a passageway and now I’m here!” He laughs - even in a situation like this, Nagito sounded carefree, his laughter soft against the other’s ears.

“…” The stranger, who Nagito now noticed was around his age, blinked once before standing. They were still a few inches shorter than Nagito while standing, their intimation attempt not quite working on Nagito. He’s been in plenty of dangerous situations before, he was sure he was fine.

“Would you like to know who I am? I am pathetic, truly, for I have no talent. However, I feel like I owe it to you!”

The stranger takes three steps forward, standing right in front of Nagito. They stare straight ahead at Nagito’s chest, slowly raising a hand before pressing it flat against Nagito’s uniform. “Ah - what are you -?”

“You are a ‘reserve course.’ Student.”



The other’s voice took Nagito aback - soft, with almost a feminine undertone, yet spoken from low in the other’s chest. Nagito took a moment to look the other over, trying his best to keep his breathing steady. “Yes. I,, am. It is pathetic, right?”

The stranger hasn’t showered in a while, their hair in knots and skin dry, covered in dirt and dust - however they didn’t seem to smell off at all. Their wrists were,, small, and that was coming from Nagito; he could probably hold their wrist or hand in his own, the other just small in comparison to himself. Like a doll. And then there were those ruby red eyes - entrancing in the way they stared past his pathetic self…

“You have a talent though?”



“… Huh?”



Nagito took a small step back, away from the hand on his chest - his breath catched, caught against the hook of the other’s words. “Excuse me?”

“You have a talent. But. You are in the incorrect course for your studies. How strange.”

“,, Hah. Hahah - wow. Uh.” Nagito laughs, awkwardly this time, tension growing and pulling his shoulders up to his ears. “I do not, though. It is kind of you! To think I possibly could! But I do not - it’s just plain ridiculous to say that, especially if you are not extraordinary yourself -”



“I have talent.”

Shudders ran down Nagito’s back at the change in tone - the soft femininity from before had gone from the other’s voice, replaced with a harsh, cold statement; it whipped against Nagito’s skin, a burning feeling spreading in his chest.

“I - oh,, oh. I apologize! I cannot believe I did not notice! I apologize greatly for assuming; it’s just like someone like me to be so incorrect and make such an inconsiderate mistake.”

“… You are strange.” The stranger’s voice goes back to it’s sweet melody, like nothing had happened. They close their eyes for a second before yawning, turning away from Nagito. “Are you leaving now?”

“If. If you want me to, of course.”

“I do not care for anything.”



Nagito’s brows furrow at the statement. He shouldn’t,, assume the other is wrong. Of course not. It was not his place. However he couldn’t help but feel as if maybe that statement was not a hundred percent truthful. “,, Mm. Well. If you say so… is it alright if scum such as myself asks a question? A - A different one than that one.”

A full minute pause - Nagito’s heart was beating abruptly in his chest at the silence. Finally the other responds. “Ask.”

‘ Are you okay? Why are you down here? You look so unwell. May I help you? Serve you? What is your name? How old are you? What do I call you? What are your pronouns? Do I annoy you? Please, use me - ’



“… Would you like to be cleaned up?”




❤︎





Izuru looked around the dorm room, the door softly closing with a click behind him.

Komaeda - he had been given the other’s name on the way here - looks around with a small frown. “I’m sorry for the mess.”

“…” It was spotless.

Izuru took a step forward before flinching, moving back and stumbling somewhat into Komaeda’s chest. Komaeda catches him, placing his hands on his shoulders to keep him steady. “Are you alright? Is my room really that revolting?”

“No. I just do not. Like. The feeling of the floor.”

With a raised brow, Komaeda look around his room. “,, Do you mean you dislike my carpeting?”

“… ‘carpeting.’”

“Yes?”



Izuru felt incompetent.



He stood upright and looked down at the floor, at the carpet, extending his foot out and touching it lightly before taking a step back with a frown.

Izuru did not like the carpeting - Komaeda was correct.

Izuru clenched his hands into fists, his arms tense while he tried to shake them in place; it felt bad. He doesn’t understand why this was bothering him so much, when almost nothing should, however he couldn’t,, stop. The feeling was crawling up his foot and into his skin, an irritating sensation that made him want to cry out or curl up into a ball or disappear or -

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I can take the carpet out! Are you okay?”



Komaeda crouches down and rolls up the carpet, making sure Izuru watches him as he puts the carpet in his closet. “See? Gone. I can’t do much else, I’m sorry, but at least you won’t be touching it anymore. You can also always wear shoes if you want, in case other carpets make you feel uneasy.”

“…”

“Are you okay?”

Izuru glances down at the ground, now void of carpet, before looking back at Komaeda and nodding. He still felt,, bad. However, at least now he won’t have to endure that feeling again. “Better.”

Komaeda smiles. “I’m glad! Don’t worry, for as long as you’re here, I’ll be sure to accommodate to your needs. Would you like to see the shower now?”



Izuru nods, watching as Komaeda offers his hand. He lightly places his own hand in Komaeda’s before following the reserve to the bathroom. At least he will come out of this experience clean and fed.
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ART FOR ONCE!!!

Unread post by phrogtm » Fri Dec 17, 2021 9:53 am

omg art!! :0000

Image
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Wed Jan 26, 2022 10:07 am

Image

moobies
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Sat Mar 05, 2022 11:41 pm

continuation of that Angel Izuru/Human Nagito fic i wrote here. also on ao3! my user is @iirlizuru


The strange person he had met at the park was homeless.

Of course.



Nagito had thought the approach was strange - how his bad luck twisted into a possible new friend encounter. The stranger seemed nice - or nice enough. And he did look rather pretty, looking both a mix of feminine and masculine; Nagito’s favorite feature on his maybe-new-friend was his hair.

But then, after some chatting and coffee, the stranger revealed that he had no place to go - which was strange, considering how expensive looking his suit looked.

Kamukura gave Nagito a stare at that moment, almost like he was testing him. It didn’t really look like a death glare however; they almost resembled the innocence of puppy eyes, Kamukura silently waiting to hear Nagito’s response…

He had invited Kamukura to come with him to his mansion.



Now, Nagito must admit, that was rather stupid. A quick decision made just to please his new friend and stop them from looking oh so sad. He had watched as Kamukura perked up, barely, and nodded with a shine in his eyes. Nagito had to admit to himself at the time that,,

Kamukura was cute. He could recognize that.



The two had made it to his mansion and Kamukura had surprisingly not looked that, well, surprised. Maybe Kamukura just didn’t react a lot to many things, however he only seemed to look around with vague interest. He did like Nagito’s garden though, particularly interested in the strawberries growing there. Nagito had taken note of that.

Nagito had shown the stranger to his new room - again, no big reaction, however Kamukura did seem very thankful, as he had bowed and said as much repeatedly. Ah, Nagito can still feel the heat in his cheeks just now dying down after that…

Kamukura was a strange person. But perhaps it was fate that had crossed his and Nagito’s paths; maybe something out there realized he needed a friend.



One good thing out of many terrible ones.

An unexpected angel, almost.



Nagito laughed at the notion now, resting on his bed; Kamukura’s room was across the hall and he could hear the other’s soft singing from the crack in the open door.

“An angel… gosh, how unrealistic of me.” He brings a hand to his hair, pushing strays out of his face. The flush of his cheeks died down slowly as he sighed.

He was now housing a stranger. Perhaps he is correct in believing all this bad luck of his is of his own doing.
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Mon Mar 14, 2022 10:06 am

unfortunately the file was too big ahhh so here's a screenshot - dw its nothing s3xual and you're not missing anything either. she is just a pretty milf :>
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Sat Mar 19, 2022 11:50 pm

i dont wanna post the actual fic here in case this is uncomfy for people but like

i have an ager (age regression) fic on ao3 that i just personally like. it brings comfort to me. and if anyone is okay with that stuff then :> https://archiveofourown.org/works/37192 ... _work=true

anyways - izuru kamukura angst
TW:

anxiety attack
anxiety in general
disassociation
really bad eggs /j :>

fic on ao3 "comforting colors"


--






Izuru came back with a full on shiver.



He doesn't remember anything; no dirtied vision, muffled noises, filtered senses. He had been nothing but a thought for... he doesn't know how long.

He had thought that Hajime being up front wouldn't feel like erasure. Like someone erased his outline and swept away the shavings, leaving this faded image that not even he could connect to. It wasn't unpleasant at first; he didn't exist, in a sense, and for a long time, that was what he wanted. Izuru doesn't remember what happened once he was put away, asleep, Hinata's warm presence like a blanket that enveloped him whole and swaddled him tight. But waking up in a way, vision blurred, breathing so slow he wasn't getting enough air in, and hands shaking was just... so terrible.

Izuru's sure Hinata hadn't meant to leave. It was most likely caused by disassociation - would the two of them count as a DID system? It would make sense, seeing as how Izuru felt like sludge, the two are now experiencing unconscious and unwilling switches and fronting, and how it felt as if there was this space left in their head for the other. Co-fronting was a thing. Hosts - Hinata - were a thing. Lack in memory was a thing. And... was this offensive?



Izuru felt himself slowly, without thinking, chew food. He'll ignore his analysis on the possible mental disorder and focus on the task at hand, which was apparently breakfast. The hope runs his fingers against the smooth, cold metal of the cafeteria table, soft chatter passing by him. There were people around him... and yet he couldn't bother to raise his gaze from the depressingly dull plastic of his plate, covered in syrup with eggs pushed to the side. Hajime probably didn't like the eggs, huh?

"... need to..." Izuru mumbles softly, swallowing the now recognized bite of a pancake that had been in their mouth as he pokes at the eggs with his fork. He'll have to eat them won't he? Why was he out here again? How long had it been? Hajime seemed just fine and was probably thrilled to be in his own body. So what was the purpose of Izuru being here? Was there a purpose? Weren't there purposes for alters usually - it would make sense for him to have one, considering he was the only other alter around that could do anything for the host of the system. Was Hinata even the host, or was Izuru just assuming so because thinking of himself as such left a disgusting, slimy, dull taste in the back of his throat?

Oh, wait, no. Just the eggs. These are really gross eggs.





",, Hajime? 'Need to...?' Need to what?"

The water parted, shivers rising up his spine, as he was faced with the soft melody of royalty and her voice. He had... spoken out loud. People were noticing him. Royalty. Princess. Princess? Who? Ultimate Princess? Who is that, who is that - ?

Was he to try and be discreet? Act like Hajime? Oh, but Hajime didn't freeze up like he did; Izuru could feel his veins go ice cold, his bones rigid, and voice buzzing like a hornets nest. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move, what was he supposed to do? Why was he feelings this way? Why, why, was he feeling??



"..." Izuru bows his head even more, using his hair to cover any traces of another person from his vision. He wished for the Princess ahead of him to leave him alone; for everyone surrounding him on all sides to go back to talking with rust and hoarse voices. A creak in the seat - metal, stiff, and cold - is heard as Izuru leans forward against the table until he can almost feel the metal breach his forehead. His hands shook as he fidgeted. Izuru felt his stomach do the metaphorical drop and his chest tighten, like a corset was wound around his heart. "I... n. Nevermind."

"Nevermind? My last name?" Izuru wanted to raise a brow in astonish; what sort of last name was that?

"Uh." Was this... anxiety? Every new feeling that graced his surface, breached his heart, has ended up terrible so far. Why did he come out? Why wasn't Hajime with him like before? What was his point in being awake, forced to eat gross eggs and talk to people with weird, mangled appearances?

"... sorry." Izuru forces more eggs into his maw - he wanted to go back to being erased.



"Ah shit, it's the Kamukura guy, I think. Naegi said he and Hajime are like. Body sharing now." A rough voice spoke from the side with an accent, a fist banging the table soon following. Izuru wills himself not to flinch, stuffing more food into his mouth just to distract himself from the guy to his right; he tries to minimize himself, leave room for the anger and none for the trembling anxiety - maybe if he just doesn't speak...?

"Hey! Fucking talk to us! One minute Hajime's here and the next you're here, the fuck are you two doing??"

"Shit, that's the scary guy???"

A whiny, meek yet masculine voice comes from Izuru's left, another hand meeting the table harshly with a smack. Why were they growing aggressive? He hadn't done anything yet? He was eating, he was supposed to be eating, he makes one mistake and now the air in the room seemed to grow hot and stuffy. Why did they need him to speak in the first place? Could they not feel the heat rising up their necks to their cheeks, dusting their foreheads, and falling down to their palms? Was Izuru alone in this suffocating mess of knots, tangles, anxious energy, and eggs?

He really hated these eggs...





"... I... go, bye." He stands abruptly, the metal chair screeching with earnest as he scrambles to get away from the table; like tnose eggs on the plate, scrambled and at the edge, away from the actual good food.

Good people, good food. Bad Izuru, bad eggs. He scrambles, intentions slimy, as he quickly runs away with small pants. He prays Hajime fronts soon, just so then he doesn't have to be here.
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Mon Apr 04, 2022 1:24 pm

MAJOR TW FOR GORE AND CANNIBALISM AS A METAPHORthis is a vent and i don't want ANYONE to be triggered


He wanted payback.

He wanted to rip apart the one who hurt him, just like how he did to him.



He had cut open his chest cavity with the dullest of knives, the scarring painful and long drawn.

He had wrung his digits around Izuru's heart and dove in, teeth clattering with unfamiliar and discombobulated bites before finally meeting flesh; Izuru wasn't prepared for the initial puncture.

Nagito's teeth tore through the heart bit by bit, his hands shivering with tremors - angry, sorrow, despair. Izuru was so sorry. He wanted to beg and beg and beg and apologize and apologize and apologize.

'Nagito please I'm sorry I didn't mean it I didn't mean to make you seem unwanted please please I was just upset it was just a vent please forgive me please I need you plEASE -!'



Nagito gulps, a vein between his teeth as he finished the last of Izuru's heart.

It hurt... so badly...


But it hurt even more when Nagito had walked away. And acted like he was the victim.
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Fri Apr 08, 2022 9:49 am

shuichi!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Wed Apr 13, 2022 8:10 am

TRANS SONIC
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Fri Apr 29, 2022 12:30 am

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34779 ... s/95887708

fic on ao3

basically, continuation of nagiot taking izuru home and hajime's now realized "this school is bogus"

weird spacing


--







Thoughts of Natsumi’s corpse came to him in flashes.

He was just talking to her last week.



Hajime didn’t know her well; at all. She came into the reserve course late and with a scowl etched on her lips. She threatened all who were in the room and was determined to become an ultimate; ‘The Ultimate Little Sister’ she said…

Hajime could tell there was more than just tension between Natsumi and Satou, another classmate of his. Threatening death went beyond just tension; they were rivals, enemies even. The way Satou would rage in the hallways, almost to maniacal levels, was scary; like you weren’t sure if she’d fulfill her promise of killing Natsumi or not.

Perhaps she did; after all, she was dead as well…



There wasn’t any coverage on their deaths. How does he even know such a thing to be true? How does he know Natsumi and Satou are even dead, unlike everyone in his classes? Because of Nanami, or specifically, her classmates.

Four of Nanami’s classmates had found Natsumi along side Satou and of course they didn’t keep quiet about it; one had to tell and that’s how Nanami knew what to say when he questioned her.

She didn’t tell him about Satou though. Hajime was able to infer she was dead himself. Both students were exclaimed expelled after all, which is a blatant lie. They were both tightly wound and intermingled, she just had to have been dead; like revenge for potentially killing someone else…



He can’t believe that the school was keeping quiet about this though.

What does this say about the school he’s grown to admire?



How would… Komaeda feel? About the school and it’s hidden despair?



❤︎




He was livid.



Kamukura - Izuru Kamukura was the stranger’s name - was filthy. The water ran brown over the course of two hours, both boys trying their best to wash and detangle his hair. It was like a rat’s nest; yet, that wasn’t the worse of it all.

Scars. Scars covered almost every inch of Kamukura’s body, save for his chest and midsection. It was clear that each area had once adorned stitches at some point, the skin raised and bumpy. Nagito followed the scars with his eyes and they all met eachother, connected, at Kamukura’s spine that adorned the biggest one of all.

It was… sickening. Kamukura’s body language showed the pain he didn’t express verbally.



That was last week though. He was livid, last week.



The current day, however, and Nagito just felt like he was haboring someone illegal.

Kamukura slept day in and day out now that he had comfortable clothes to wear, a futon to sleep on, and food to occasionally eat. He was hardly ever awake, only for when he needed to use the bathroom, eat, or have his hair done to make sure the tangles didn’t come back. Besides that, the boy didn’t even bother to make it to the futon half the time, asleep randomly somewhere in the dorm whenever Nagito came back from school.

Asleep against the counter, on the floor, against a door, on the futon, standing up mid-self care, and once upside down - he had fallen off the couch at an awkward angle and Nagito watched as Kamukura accepted his fate and fell asleep, softly snoring a few moments later.

The word ‘unhealthy’ came to mind multiple times, however Nagito never said anything. The other seemed to need the rest. Besides, this isn’t why he felt like he was haboring a criminal.



Teachers have started to question him daily. Teachers he’s never met, seen, or heard of - all asking about his day, asking to go to his dorm, etc. He gets lucky every time, however, with an excuse or an unfortunate occurrence happening just at that time. It’s all getting him wonder about who Kamukura was; why was he named after the school founder? What was his talent? What was with sickly display of surgery scar after scar? And what had he meant when he had said Nagito had talent?

Nagito… didnt want to leave these questions unanswered.




“Kamukura-kun?”

He fills the bowl with boiling water, watching the ramen cook. Kamukura watches across from him, leaning against the counter with half-lidded eyes. The boy always looked like that, however; tired or just about ready to pass out, which he usually was ready to do.

“Mm?”

“… I have questions I need you to answer -”

Nagito’s cut off with a soft groan, Kamukura takinf away the hot bowl from Nagito to finish the ramen himself. He swiftly and neatly opens the sauce packet, the sauce already in the bowl and stirred by the time Nagito blinks. “Let me guess your questions for you; they’re probably boring.”

“I - you…” Nagito frowns, biting his lip. “Stop. I’m serious.”

“Oh, I know. That’s what makes it disappointing all the same -”

“Kamukura.” He takes the food away from the other, watching as Kamukura stares at the stolen bowl. “Just,, answer me honestly.”



The other is silent for a moment before sighing and nodding, gesturing for the food back.

“After you answer my questions. I don’t want you to fall asleep in your food half way through.” Nagito hums softly, placing both his hands on the bowl, feeling the warmth of the ramen from the exterior. “Firstly. What’s your talent?”

“Seriously?” Kamukura literally rolls his eyes, dramatically, as if he’s never done so before. “‘The Ultimate Hope.’ That’s what I was dubbed the day of my creation.”



… there was a lot to unpack in that singular statement alone.

“I. Uhm. Okay - okay. We’re going to slowly unpack this all for me, alright?”

“Sure.”

“Okay,, alright. You are called the Ultimate Hope?” Nagito can feel his nails drag against the smooth bowl holding the ramen.

Kamukura stares silently for a moment before nodding. “I’ll explain it to you so we may move on. I was created; an unknown reserve signed up for a project and I inhabit their body. I am called the Ultimate Hope befause I have every registered talent this school has. And I say creation day since there was a day I woke up after my lobotomy and was named Kamukura Izuru and dubbed the Ultimate Hope. There.”

He steals the bowl away from Nagito, swiftly grabbing, separating, and using chopsticks to eat; the wrapper glides through the air, gracefully falling into the small wastebin in the kitchen. “Next?”



Nagito stares.

He was haboring someone illegal.

He was haboring a government experiment?!



❤︎




Phuhuhu… this despair…



She stares ahead at the empty room, bloodied bodies of scientists who knew nothing of value piled into the corner of the room.

Izuru Kamukura - the one guy she needed - wasn’t here.



Enoshima imagines dragging her nails against the labrat’s throat. Where the hell was he?



… her eyes immediately move to the right of the crickety bed in the room.

There, on the floor; what was that?



“,, ah.” Enoshima walks over and picks up the almost insignificant item.

A piece of torn fabric, like someone plucked it from another’s jacket. It was black.

“A reserve course student? Phuhuhu~ how… interesting…”



Who in the reserve course had the capabilities to steal her new toy?
i write fanfictions. izuru irl.

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