Phrog Fics

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phrogtm
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Mon Jun 13, 2022 11:48 am

for a fic ive never posted about on here https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013 ... _work=true
basically nagito is the ult artist instead and its a fic about nagito x gundham mostly
this is the kamukoma section tho sooooo :)
enjoy and uh check out my ao3 if u want


--






“Hold still.”

Kamukura’s nails - blunt and bitten down - lightly drag down his cheek before the hope’s calloused hand cups his cheek. Nagito shudders at the touch, leaning into said hand excessively, like a puppy. One deprived of touch or love; such a… despairing thought.

What was he supposed to be doing aga -? “Komaeda.”

“Ah. Apologies! You’re just warm, sir.” He smiles, only faltering when the sting of disinfectant meets his cheek; Nagito hisses softly, biting his lip as that smile strained to stay.

Kamukura exhales softly, imitating a sigh. “I run warm… you know this.” He disinfected the cut before placing the damp towel down. “You let her do this to you, how irresponsible. Boring.”

“It’s all in the name of hope, Kamukura-kun! Enoshima, despair. You, hope. Surely her torture will lead to your success to embody hope…”



Moments pass; Nagito isn’t sure how many. Kamukura just stared, blankly ahead, at Nagito; like a crashing computer, frozen and unworking. “,, Uhm, sir? Kamukura-kun?” He’s hoping he didn’t break the other.

“… what is hope?”

Nagito blinks once, eyes widening some before they crinkle at the edges; he’s smiling. “You, of course. An absolute force of good.” He reaches for the other’s hand, his own pale in comparison to Kamukura’s. Nagito lifts the hope’s hand and holds it in both his own, squeezing. He can feel Kamukura’s stare on him as he focuses on covering said person’s hand in soft, praising kisses. Nagito even notices Kamukura’s short and tiny flinches.

Kamukura clears his throat with a soft cough. “I’m not absolute good.”

“You are. I must say, having this same conversation every week or so is getting boring~ ”

“I do not understand, is all.”

“And isn’t that magnificent? I make you feel that way. Me…”

Another squeeze to Kamukura’s hand. The hope’s breathing stutters before he pulls away. “Komaeda.”

“Hm?”

“Tanaka will be entering the city soon.”



And then. Then. Then -

Nagito can feel his heart drop down, down and pass the floors of a building as it proceeds to kill itself. “Excuse me?”



Nagito hasn’t seen Tanaka since highschool. Since he was seventeen. Since the tragedy began with the death of a singular class president and thousands of talentless nobodies. That was… when was that?

He wracks his memory, hand clenching into a fist before it raises towards his head. Palm meets hair, skin, skull; when was that? How long has it been? How old was he? When was the last time he heard that stupid bravo from the breeder who left him like he were nothing but an animal’s carcass put aside on the ro -

“Komaeda.”

The artist gasps softly at the feeling of a hand placed between his fist and his skull, fist meeting tanned skin that flinches under the touch. Nagito blinks once, eyes blurry from tears as he looks up at Kamukura; he had been… hitting himself. And now ended up hitting Kamukura. ‘How upsetting. I haven’t been set off like that in a while.’

He unclenches his fist, exhaling sharply. Silent.

“Komaeda -”

“Yes? What do you want -” He’s interrupted with a hug.



Nagito can feel the beat of Kamukura’s heart as the hope wraps his arms around him, pulling the artist close while having his head rest on his shoulder. The artist’s mind is racing; for different reasons now, maybe. Kamukura’s nails, still short and worn, make their way to his scalp, the man gently detangling knots and petting him - petting . What was he, a dog?

Was this a sign of compassion? What was Kamukura doing,,?



“… I was warning you.”

Nagito can’t help but snort. “Warning?”

Strangely enough, Kamukura rolls his eyes. Nagito can’t but gasp softly, any words about to be said being cut off. “Tanaka is a danger to your physical and mental health. You’re always distressed when thinking about him, because of your abandonment issues and attachment to him. And, besides that, he is physically more capable than you. Your luck can only do so much against someone with ‘nature’s beasts’ by his side.”

“,, huh. You care about me, don’t you?”

Kamukura falters; he can feel it. The stiffness as his digits pause in their affections. Was it wrong to say Nagito loved this? Loved it whenever Kamukura was surprised - or anything, really. The small tell-tale signs of emotion made Nagito feel so important and… somewhat powerful. Although he’d never say that.

“…” Kamukura still wasn’t speaking. Nagito sighs softly, sitting up and removing the hope’s hand from his hair. “Sir.”

“‘Mm.”

“Kamukura-kun … you don’t have to admit it if you don’t want to.”

“It…” The hope falters once again before softly exhaling, posture deflating. “I am incapable of such a thing. And yet you’re always so persistent with the idea that that’s not true.”

Oh jeez, here they go. Nagito resists the urge to groan.



He was never one to oppose Kamukura; yes, he would tease, maybe point out something he’s noticed, but overall Nagito was an obedient and compliant man; just for the other. Hope. But… the two differed in a certain opinion from time to time.

Kamukura was so insistent on the idea he was incapable of emotion. Which, while Nagito could understand, considering what he’s always been told and how he’s been conditioned… it just didn’t make logical sense.

Kamukura cared for him! Kamukura cared not to be bored. Kamukura cared about Nanami - Chiaki Chiaki Chiaki. And Kamukura cared about accommodating for his own needs; avoiding sensory overload, obtaining comfort foods, fixing understimulation, and making sure to stay away from things he knows will tick himself off. Kamukura cared for himself; not for what others thought he should be, which was perfect and without the issues that came with… well. Autism. Something you can’t just remove with surgeries.

Kamukura cared a lot, but didn’t seem to believe so. Apparently that was all a necessity. While Nagito can see how self-care was necessary and how finding entertainment to stay sane was probably needed… nothing else is. Caring for Nagito isn’t necessary. Mourning Nanami is not something he must do; that was something not even the rest of Nagito’s class did.



Nagito couldn’t help but fight when it came to this topic of discussion. Kamukura was stubborn. A stubborn man-child, literally.

And yet this was the man Nagito devoted himself to.



“… let’s go back to. To the fact Tanaka is coming; how’d you figure that out?”

“Ah. Mm. Souda Kazuichi… had evacuated for that reason. Scared of the animals; the living zoo that will be terrorizing the city for as long as Tanaka is here.” Kamukura tucks some hair behind his ear; his hair is noticeably frizzy at the ends and top.

Nagito sighs softly before smiling. “Would you wish to evacuate as well? You never know what might happen!”

Another soft hum from the hope; it was a quirk of his. “That’s… true. I suggest we do that, yes. To avoid the inevitable stampede and Tanaka himself.”

The artist watches as the other stands, his steps abnormally silent as he stands on crumbled concrete. Kamukura picks up the first aid, holding out a singular bandaid before closing the container. “Come here.” He holds out the bandage, opening it in swift and graceful movements.

With a sigh, Nagito complies. He stands up as well, startled at the ache he is met with; sitting on the road was not doing well for his knees nor back. “Ah. What’s that for,,?”

“Here.”

There’s the sound of peeled plastic. Kamukura lightly places the bandaid over Nagito’s previous cut, gently pressing it down before his hands pull away; he lets them rest in front of his own chest, fidgeting with his tie. Nagito liked that about Kamukura. The fidgeting; the need to move and never look back.



“Mm. Thank you sir.” Nagito stretches, back cracking audibly. His movements slow finally, the man moaning softly. “Let’s find a place to stay for tonight…?”

“Yes, let’s.”



Kamukura takes great strides as Nagito takes short ones. As the red sky is glanced at, his feet tiring already, Nagito wonders.

‘Would Tanaka miss me?’
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Mon Jun 13, 2022 11:54 am

art in the same day

yawn

i love the lego movies /srs
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Fri Sep 09, 2022 12:07 pm

crackship fic from my ao3


--

Izuru’s lips press together into a thin line, the hope eyeing the photograph. “… So. Koizumi has assumed there is paranormal activity in this area,,?”

“Ah. Uhm…” Shuichi clears his throat, blushing in slight embarrassment. “No…”



Izuru hums softly, looking up at the freshman. He taps his fingers against his thighs, processing. “So what is the issue I must address? You had come to me, you know. And apparently Koizumi is the one with the issue.”

He gets a soft, nervous laugh in response. Shuichi reaches out for a hat that is not there before stopping halfway. “Uh… this is her photograph… and she is currently trying to assume that it is not perhaps a ghost,, h - however I think it might just be one!” The detective fidgets nervously, gaze falling to the ground.

Izuru found that cute. “Ah. I understand.”

”You do?” Perking up, Shuichi clasps his hands together in false prayer. “So, you’ll help? Considering your wide range of talents and such, I just,, thought you would be the best candidate. To help me, I mean.”

”Yes. I understand.” Izuru nods once before making his way to Shuichi’s side, about to pass by; the freshman, however, flinches before grabbing his arm.



”Wh - where are you going,,? If you understand??”

”Away. I never agreed to help.”

Shuichi blinks once before seeming to deflate with a frown. “Oh… uh.” He let’s Izuru go. “Sorry, I just… assumed, by the word choice, that -”

”You misunderstand for a second time, detective. I never agreed to help. I am getting another to help you, someone who you trust. Yonaga shall do a splendid job and will be able to bypass any awkwardness I would create by being in your presence.”



”…” Shuichi stares at Izuru before,, laughing. His soft laugh brings unfamiliar warmth to Izuru’s cheeks, the hope touching them; has the temperature changed or was that - “Sorry! Sorry! Just,, you wouldn’t make it awkward Kamukura, not at all.”

He blinks once. “But… we. Are not friends.”

”Ah. Well,, I suppose not. But I trust you. And besides that…” Shuichi pauses, the freshman’s own cheeks seeming to grow red as well. “I like talking to you.”

”Oh.” That was… unexpected.



Izuru closes his eyes after a moment. He inhales a gentle breath, tapping a finger against his thigh before opening his eyes again. “I… then. I mean. I will help you, then. If you are willing to endure my presence.”

Shuichi nods with a small smile, pocketing the photograph. “I am. Try and do the same for me as well, Kamukura.”

Turning away to guide Izuru to the diner, Shuichi steps forward; Izuru watches the young detective, glancing at his steps. They seem full of new hope, joy solidified in the footprints made in the sand of the beach. His face, flushed with new emotion, can’t help but morph into an expression unbeknownst to him.



Izuru smiles.



--
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Thu Sep 22, 2022 2:49 pm

i want to go home.
Last edited by phrogtm on Wed Dec 07, 2022 9:13 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Mon Oct 03, 2022 9:47 am

wip for a agere fic Q.Q

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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Tue Oct 11, 2022 9:09 am

fic from my last update was posted :000
link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41998887


WIPPPPP for a bnha fic! halloween themed :>


Shinsou enters the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Despite his sluggish nature, slowly stepping out the cave that was his room and to the kitchen to get a cup of tea - yes, tea, he's trying to cut back on his caffeine intake... despite this, the atmosphere of the dorms was all from peaceful.

Bringing his hands up to his hair, rubbing his face and neck tiredly, the omega groans softly at the loud and boisterous sound of his classmates clambering around. Fuckkkk... His thoughts try to catch up with the swift change; usually it was so boring in the early mornings.




"Shinsou!!" Hagakure - who he had no idea was there, that scared the shit out of him - grabs hold of his shoulders, turning him around. He squints his eyes, unsure of what he was looking at until he noticed,, toilet paper. All over the invisible girl. Not tightly wrapped per say, more like if someone TPed her as if she were a house.

"..." He raises a brow at the alpha, her scent invading his nose; bright, excitable, and mischievous. "... morning to you too."

"Shinsouuuu! Where's your costume?!"

Hagakure let's him go, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, which were covered in white platforms. "Costume?" Shinsou yawns softly as he spoke before turning back to the kitchen cabinets. "What are you talking about? Halloween isn't until the 31st,, and we're not even in America -"

A whine interrupts him as Hagakure leans against him, hugging him from behind; he tries his best not to seem flustered, for multiple reasons. "I know thattt! But it's costume day! For class..."




,, huh. Shinsou blinks once before grabbing the small box of tea bags. "I didn't realize you guys did that. I didn't do that in 1-C." He hums softly, as if it were a fun fact, before trying to go back to making his tea.

... trying. Hagakure was making this very hard with how loud and dramatic her gasp was, her arms squeezing his middle as if they were back in USJ, afraid of losing eachother.

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE A COSTUME DAY?!?!?!"

"No,now,please,letmego -"
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Thu Oct 20, 2022 8:36 am

a doodle for the masses
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Tue Nov 01, 2022 2:19 pm

better formatting on ao3!!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42523833link!

The air around them seemed to stay stagnant despite their slow steps, hands intertwined.

The moon light of the cold, fall night fell over their conjoined hands, casting light shadow on the sidewalk. Nagito imagined the touch of Izuru's hand against his own, nails that were bitten and chipped gently gliding over the top of his hand in seeking of comfort; instead, gloves met each other, encasing their most... appropriate means of communication in a warm embrace.

Sure, speaking was an available tool. Izuru was not the mute type, instead more of a quiet observer, speaking when necessary. And by now, Nagito was sure, not even the heavenly angels of God could shut him up once he opened his big mouth, his words a wild ball tumbling down a endless hill... no, they were not those of mute. But...

But just this once, staying silent was appropriate.




Dried up tears caked Izuru's cheeks, origins evident by the light sniffles the hope let out. One could say it was the cold nipping at his nose, causing a shade of feminine red to dust over his skin, but Nagito knew better to assume it was just that. Despite anyone believed, despite what Izuru Kamukura preached to the lowly leeches of this despairing society, the buried emotions of a hurt and lonely boy still laid dormant in Izuru's bleak heart. And on occasion, rare moments that none were ever present for, those emotions sparked in tantrum, cries of one dead reaching Izuru's eyes and sticking to his eyelashes.

Nagito sighs softly, his breath visible in the cold. Izuru Kamukura, the Ultimate Hope, crying! It seemed so unbelievable. And yet here they were, boots meeting stone, as they walked off to the resting place of despair and of a flickering hope.

He couldn't help but glance up at the towering gates of Hopes Peak, walls charred and black from a fire having been put out, the fuel firing it having been crushed under the most Despairing execution... Enoshima Junko's body found no rest in that building. Nagito thanks all good left in the world that they weren't here to visit her. Her remains, anyways. No, no, Izuru wouldn't waste tears on his captor; releasing him from one prison to another.




The hope's steps slow to a stop; Nagito can feel Izuru's hand shake in it's bed, the man staring off at the red sky past the Founder's statue.

Past these stairs, stairs that led down to a forgotten hell, lay the body of Nanami Chiaki... a corpse who remained untouched in a forever slumber.




Nagito doesn't know the condition of her body. He had, at the time, had left with his class, wishing his past farewell and moving onto a worse future, one where his graduation ended in a bomb. A faked suicide. He had no idea what to expect once making his way down those stairs... stairs that led to what seemed to be a deep pit of despair, walls drenched in shadow.

Glancing at Izuru, he could see a ocean of fear spill from the hope's eyes, emotions unable to rest after being awoken at such a time. He takes hold of Izuru's hands, squeezing them with his own,, best he could with one good hand. "..." Chapped lips part only to fall shut, Nagito instead making a soft hushing sound; his own words, those that were always walking down or up a spiraling staircase, were honestly not needed.

Instead, he hugs the other man, arms wounding around Izuru's neck. The other's hair was both frizzy and greasy, he notes, cheek pressing against Izuru's forehead. Perhaps his presence would be enough this time around? A comforting hug, enveloping Izuru's cold heart in warmth? A personal flame, love it's fuel and lust it's lumber, free of service for Izuru to use as he pleased?

... Nagito feels the hope shake in his grasp, hands seated by his sides. Izuru gasps softly before exhaling, his breath slithering about into the air between them. It hissed out low weeps as the two stood there, only mere steps away from another's grave.




The stagnant air of the night seems to finally pick up haste as she brushes up against Nagito's face, kissing him a mournful farewell.

With the wind went Nagito's hopes of a better future, it carrying Izuru's wails past the hellish terrain of Hopes Peak Academy and into the red sky of Japan, the prayers of a Hinata Hajime long gone going with them.
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Re: Phrog Fics

Unread post by phrogtm » Wed Dec 07, 2022 9:11 am

transfem hankk - from madness combat the webseries
ficlink: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43114974


--


Nevada was a dangerous place.

There was no time for luxury.

Hank knew this best, considering they were one of the main reasons this state turned into such a shithole. The most wanted person in Nevada…

Was staring at a dress.



Well, it was a skirt. Their hand pressed against the glass of the store door, shards across the floor. Their boots slowly moved as Hank took booming steps towards the intact window display; they didn’t,, know why they were doing this, exactly.

The illogicality of this situation didn’t stop them, however, as they slowly stepped up onto the risen platform on the floor.

Hank stared at the dirtied mannequin, gently raising their hand up to touch it; they flinched a bit at how dusty it was, rubbing their hand on their pants.



”…” Talking was difficult for Hank. So, even if they had words to say, some sort of internal battle with themself, they couldn’t express it externally. So instead, Hank huffs, gently smacking their cheek with a hand, blunt nails meeting their mask.

”Hey! Hank!”


With a slight jump, they turn to see Deimos walk over, Sanford coming up the rear with slow steps. The shorter swiftly entered the store, loud crunching sounds filling the ghostly store as he stopped right behind Hank. “There you are! You can’t just leave all the agents to us, we’re on this mission together,,!”

He then tilts his head, raising a brow at the other. “What are you doing anyway? Didn’t think you were one for fashion.”

Hank metallic jaw creaks as they open their mouth… only for nothing to come out. They sigh, glancing longingly at the skirt, flayed at the ends, black with a red elastic band. They then slowly step down and off the display platform, shrugging. “Nothing… important.”

”,, do you want that?”

Sanford’s voice comes from their side, his hand reaching up to adjust his glasses. He jabs a finger towards the skirt before speaking again. “The skirt? Do you want it?”



Hank,, couldn’t speak. Besides the fact it was painful, they just didn’t really have the words in mind to agree. Yes, they wanted the skirt… it was. Pretty.

But Hank wasn’t pretty. It probably wouldn’t fit, was dusty, would probably get ruined the next day, or maybe lost on their way back to Doc. It was stupid, just a stupid shirt that they wanted so badly but didn’t need at a -

“Here.”

Sanford jumps off the display platform, boots hitting the ground like thunder. Deimos makes a small noise at the loud sound, both he and Hank watching as the grunt handed them the skirt. “There ‘ya go. Make sure it doesn’t get too ripped up before we get back to Doc. That way, we can sew up any damages.”

”…” Their hands gripped the fabric tightly before they nodded. “Okay… thank you.”

”Don’t mention it,, considering I don’t know why you’re thanking me. Now -“ Sanford nudges Deimos towards the store door with a hand. “Let’s go already? The agents aren’t going to kill themselves.”

“They might - OW. Fuck!” Deimos shoves Sanford back as they both walk out the store, back to their relentless,, but harmless bickering.



Hank stood back. Taking one last look at the skirt, they shoved it down in one of their pants pocket, zipping the pocket shut before pulling out a handgun. They finally exit the store, the familiar sound of gunshots and screams up ahead of them.
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