#froggy writes

[froggymug]

It is time... Another Turbotasfic

(Yes, I'm coining that play on words.)

After a lot of planning, I'm happy to share the prologue AND first chapter of a multi-chap Wreck-It-Ralph fic! A two-in-one special for the beginning!

Once again, major kudos to @randomalistic for their incredible video essay! If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't have started this project! And a huge shoutout to @gretelandcat for their amazing fanart and the fact that they're working on an animatic based on my previous fics! Aaa, I still can't believe it!!!

Words can't describe how excited I am to write and share this!! I really hope my fellow Turbo enjoyers and WIR fans like it!

Now if you need me, I will be sleeping, haha.

Enjoyyyyyyyy! :3

[changbin-froggy-jimin]

Question, if I were to sell something like this would you be interested in buying one?

[grimgrinningghost456]

“You have eyes just as she did.” He spoke softly, reverently.

Long, cool fingers extended and cupped beneath the younger man’s jaw, then tilted his chin upwards in order for the light to catch on the irises.

“Lovely.” He breathed, “I never thought I’d ever have the chance to see such eyes again.”

[hypodermicfroggy]

Light Pollution

I don't recognize the stars anymore.

Terrestrial life is one of changes It rises, it falls, it expands, it shrinks And while the stars are not immutable Their span is on a much longer scale

These lights above me are not the ones So constant and familiar That my two and four-legged ancestors both Could navigate their way back home by them

These lights are not the twinkling diamonds Born from the exhale of a warm sigh That captured the minds and hearts Of scientists and artisans for centuries

Their sparkle is cold, lifeless metal And impersonal binary. Yet these are not the capsules of my grandparents Crafted with hope and fear and passion

In a time when that vast black above Was not prime real estate to be simply colonized But a terrifying unknown to be respected As well as a new frontier to explore

These are cheap trinkets, baubles Manufactured en masse then left to rot A passing whim of a creator Who thinks himself a god of men But who has already grown bored Of his own toys like a child

They form a dirty choker around a blue wife's neck She has always been faithful to him Even while their heirs slowly poison her While he looks longingly at the mistress Dressed in her tempting shade of blood Waiting down a long and dangerous cosmic hallway

A new star attempts to rise and join its siblings Forced upwards by man's sheer will It rumbles, it roars, it streaks across the sky Searing red as something goes wrong

The chemical smell of fuel instead of wormwood.

Two hundred, five hundred A thousand years ago This would have been regarded as an omen A sign of the coming end of days.

But the true prophets have been blinded Their clear skies clouded by these false stars Placed by a false prophet, a man playing god A father of lies and broken promises of innovation

And so no one listens and heeds the warnings Until his stars come falling down A hundred thousand heralds burning bright Like the stars they pretended to be Revelations that are realized One minute too late

…I don't recognize the stars anymore.

[pukefactory]

•☽────✧˖°˖ EVENING SCHEDULE ˖°˖✧────☾•

(COMMISSION)

★ Summary: A Compilation Of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson ENA Being Separated From The Reader As You Are Trapped In The Lonely Door

★ Commissioner: @namosaga

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

The respawn hits like a headache. Not the polite kind, either—no, this one’s jagged and cold and lonely in all the wrong places. ENA blinks back into the Hub, blinking and blinking until her triangle pupils shake from the strain. Something’s wrong. Something’s missing. “Where’s my associate?” she demands, red-side first, voice a silken pitch of mock-customer service panic. “Where’s my contractual companion? My deal-partner, my emergency exit buddy?” Froggy doesn’t even glance up from the clipboard. “Back already, huh? Good. Got another job for you. Big smoke issue. Very urgent. Big big fog. Go do the thing.” “No. No no no—I felt them behind me! I grabbed their hand—!” Meanie side takes over mid-sentence, volume flaring into a banshee scream. “WHERE IS THE BATHROOM BASTARD!? DID THEY GET SUCKED BACK IN!?” Froggy snorts. “Probably stuck in the Lonely Door. That’s what happens when you hesitate.” “You call this hesitation?! I TRUSTED the algorithm!” ENA screeches, arms flailing as her shadow elongates weirdly behind her, puppet-like, cartoon loops of panic glitching around her legs. “SEND ME BACK IN!!” “It’s a one-way valve, you neon ferret. Can’t un-flush a dimension.” But ENA is already pacing in figure-eights, her red side babbling like a hotline agent mid-breakdown. “We must file an appeal. Get a Genie. Get a mannequin. Get GØD. We cannot leave them. They are still in there. With it. With that. They’ll be all… cracked.” Froggy mutters something about caffeine and overtime, but it barely registers. ENA’s claws dig into her temples, yellow side twitching, blinking, muttering: “I didn’t mean to leave them. I didn’t mean to. This wasn’t in the pitch deck…” Even for a Salesperson, some deals hurt too much to walk away from.

☆ The Door doesn’t swing shut—it clenches. Clenches its thin muscles like the mouth of something divine and bored. ENA’s voice flattens into a hum, just shy of hopeful. “Let’s conclude this endeavor, shall we?” she offers with a tilt of her head, but her eyes don’t match. Her pupils are missing again. You don’t have time to ask where they went. Your legs are cubes now. You can feel the vertices.

☆ It begins like static in the bloodstream. You blink and your hand is a jpeg of a hand. ENA turns toward you and grins—Salesperson, all customer service and plastic cheer. “Not to worry, asset decay is standard in unscheduled transitions. Just think of it as… modular.” You try to scream. It renders as a corrupted flute trill.

☆ “YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS,” Meanie blurts, voice warping, lips out of sync. “FIX YOUR STUPID BODY ALREADY—WHAT ARE YOU, A YOUTUBE THUMBNAIL?!” It’s the closest thing to a plea she can muster. ENA is glitching too. Her torso duplicates and overlaps, one frame behind the other. She stumbles when she laughs. You see her blood is orange now. No—it’s loading.

☆ The hallway outside the Door is collapsing like an unraveling .zip file. Textureless walls crumbling and folding underneath itself. ENA’s hat drifts past you, and she doesn’t notice. Or maybe she left it behind on purpose.

☆ “You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” ENA says. But she says it while stepping backward, smiling with the kind of smile that doesn’t want to be watched fall apart. You beg her not to leave. She shrugs. “It’s not abandonment. It’s automation. You’re simply stuck in the wrong instance.” Her voice cracks. She was never meant to stay.

☆ You watch your own mouth vanish. There’s no time to panic before ENA—not the one you knew, but the mannequin she’s puppeting—shudders to life in the main world, glitching and sputtering before she’s finally cut free of her binds. Froggy, grumpy as ever, berates her: “Quit being so unprofessional, people will get the wrong idea! What even happened?!” ENA doesn’t answer. Her eyes are looking at something else. Something behind Froggy.

☆ In the Door’s fading echo, you hear the sound of typing. Dozens of voices speaking in code. “If statement. Boolean value. Body = NULL.” ENA tried to hold them together, but she was losing cohesion. Her model couldn’t keep up. Her limbs lagged in and out of place. You then realized—too late—that she was never supposed to bring you this far. And she never expected this outcome.

☆ As Froggy chews her out, ENA’s head tilts and she whispers: “There’s something still inside. I left them. I had to. I didn’t want to be unmade.” She wrings her mitt-shaped hand with her clawed one. “You’re mad, right? I should’ve stayed?” Her voice warps with guilt, skipping like a scratched DVD. Froggy stares. Then mutters: “…You’re not even here.”

☆ In the Door’s final light, you see ENA one last time. Not as a whole, not even as halves. But as shards. Her voices no longer alternate—they collide. “I’ll save you—” “NO I WON’T—” “What’s your pain point—” “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP—” The Door slams its fleshy arms shut like a final period on a sentence never proofread. Silence echoes like a scream with nowhere to go.

☆ Back in the hub, the casino gleams. Froggy stamps forms. Business resumes. But sometimes, the lights flicker. ENA’s body twitches. She grins and spins her cap. “You look like someone with a lot of unresolved data.” she says to herself. You’re not coming back. But ENA watches the Door anyway. Because maybe. Just maybe. The save file is still corrupt, but not deleted.

[grimgrinningghost456]

“Shit!”

That’s it. Thats the line :) context is in tags

@0nelittlebirdtoldme

Last sentence tag game

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

Thanks for the tag @beevean!

Jonathan watches the dark shape of Castle Dracula retreat in the rearview and thinks: I did it—I got out.

20 tags seems like a lot! Low key @ to @nightmarist @rabbit-exe @tigerballoons @spudodell @renaultphile @udaberriwrites @grimgrinningghost456 @mildredmost and anyone else who wants to play 🖤

[14dayswithyou]

I'm going to be a little evil :3c /silly

*I have stolen all of their headwear, leaving only FROGGY HAT in his closet.*

"Boy it sure is chilly today. Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay [REDACTED]?"

✦゜ANSWERED: I believe in froggy hat [REDACTED] supremacy 🖤🐸

He knew. Of course he knew. [REDACTED]'s security system alerted him the second you stepped foot into his apartment, and it took the dark-haired hacker almost all of his willpower not to rush home and see you. But alas, he had other matters to attend to and messes to clean up here. Things he couldn't risk putting on hold, lest he pay the consequences for them later.

So, [REDACTED] settles for watching you through his cracked phone screen as you try to sneak your way around his apartment. They didn't really understand why you felt the need to be so secretive; you knew your boyfriend would be out for the day, you had his spare keycard and access to the entire 14th floor, and [REDACTED] had made it explicitly clear early on in the relationship that everything he owned was yours completely. Nothing was off limits to you, and that included every inch of his living space.

...And even himself.

Curiously, they watch with keen interest as you quietly slide the door to his walk-in closet open and take in your surroundings once more — making sure that you really were alone in his dimly-lit bedroom. But barely a moment passes before you stride in with a newfound purpose, unzip your backpack, and begin to stash all of his caps and beanies inside.

Well, alright then. If you decided he no longer needed those items, then so be it. He was never one to deny you anything.

But in retrospect, you were honestly doing [REDACTED] a favour. He genuinely didn't really need those items in his possession anymore — especially considering how he had no real reason to conceal his identity from you after all these years of being together.

He could never forget about that pivoted moment in time when you opened up to your beloved hacker about his rather... intense need to watch over you 24/7. And after you had scolded him multiple times for stalking you from darkened corners and alleyways outside your apartment complex, [REDACTED] had all but tried to change his ways. To better themselves for you.

After all, you deserved nothing less.

Glancing back at his phone once more, [REDACTED] takes in every little movement you make as you continue to tuck away his belongings; down to the turn of your head and the flex in your muscles. Not a single twitch or glance goes unnoticed under his watchful gaze — and had the dark-haired man not been so enraptured by your ministrations — he surely would've noticed that it was just about time for him to start packing his tools up and head home.

Home, in time for the date you had planned for the evening.

But the way you purposefully moved around his closet had [REDACTED] in a trance. You were extremely methodical about the things you were swiping from his shelves; neatly packing away all of the headgear, earmuffs, and scarves on display (and even the ones hidden within the depths of his drawers!). Yet... One single item remained in the aftermath of your wake.

Atop one of the lone shelves in the corner, it sits, isolated from the rest of its kind. Worn out yet well loved; it was no more than a novelty item your boyfriend had originally won for you from a crane game. But even after their constant insistence that you should keep it, you rebutted it all by saying it'd look better on him instead — all while pushing the cute, froggy hat back into his hands with a teasing smile.

("If you keep bleaching your hair like that," his real name falls from your lips like sweet nectar, "All of your hair will fall out. When that happens, you can use this to keep your bald head warm!"

"...When that happens? Hmph. You're gettin' cheeky." With a smile of his own, your boyfriend reaches out to gently pinch your cheek. "I haven't touched m'hair in ages.")

So after watching you be so meticulous with the items you were "robbing", the hacker couldn't help but wonder what your main motive was. Why leave that silly, little frog hat alone unless... Did you want him to wear it? You knew [REDACTED] would never say no to you — let alone to a frivolous request — but admittedly, they did find it rather endearing to watch you put in all that effort just for him.

Just like how he used to be... Back before you opened the curtains of his life and brought sunshine into his heart.

Gone are the days of "Ren", when [REDACTED] had to snoop around your apartment just to get any sort of inclination of what your type and interests might be. No longer did [REDACTED] have to "borrow" some of your old clothing to keep himself company on lonely nights; to put them over his pillow and pretend like it was you he was holding close to his chest. He no longer had to steal your presents and tokens out of spite and jealousy — only to return them days later once they noticed how upset it made you.

Too caught up in reminiscing about the past, [REDACTED] had almost missed your swift getaway from his bedroom. Living up to your nickname, you glide down the staircase and across his foyer as if you sprouted angel wings on your back and stroll into the elevator, before closing the door and pulling out your phone.

And just like clockwork, [REDACTED]'s camera feed gets replaced by the bright red and green call buttons that shake and taunt him at the bottom of the screen — alongside the personalised caller photo of you smiling towards the sunset ocean with [REDACTED]'s jacket atop your shoulders. The dark-haired man leaves no room for pause before he's swiping his finger across the screen and eagerly anticipating the sound of your voice.

You greet him in that casual, nonchalant tone of yours, and [REDACTED] had to resist the urge to start recording the call — to save the addictive timbre of your voice for when he needs to hear it the most.

"Man... It sure is chilly today, don't you think?"

There's the familiar sound of tacky elevator music playing in the background, and part of [REDACTED] thinks you're purposefully calling him right now to let him in on your (not so) secret escapades... To let them know where you are.

Or perhaps you were already aware that he knows, if the way you were glancing up at the elevator camera was anything to go by.

Regardless, you don't give away any other telling signs as your beloved hacker watches you through the camera. Your bag is still carefully slung over a shoulder, while one of his old, black university caps received the pleasure of being fiddled with in your hand. Your voice returns once more, and it causes a grin to form on his lips.

"Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay?"

There's a newfound teasing lilt in your tone, which has [REDACTED] latching on to your every word with bated breath and scrambling for a reply.

"'Course. Wouldn't miss our date for the world. 'N make sure y'stay warm too, angel." Without missing a beat, he easily takes his place in your little game. "Wouldn't wanna misplace your jacket 'n get cold now, would we?"

Your pixelated smile on the screen gives everything away.

You hear the unmistakable sound of [REDACTED]'s sports motorbike before you see it; watching the corner of your street as he appears from the darkness like a phantom.

And like the gentleman that he is, [REDACTED] doesn't make you stray far from the safety of the streetlamp either. The moment your boyfriend pulls up in front of you, one of his large hands reaches around your waist to draw you near (almost as if he'd gone years without being in your presence), while the other makes quick work of the latch of his helmet. In one swift motion, he pulls it off and rests it against the tank—

Only to reveal that cute, pastel green frog hat sitting atop his head.

He can't help but smile when you do; clearly pleased that he went through with your silly request. At that, you let out a low hum of appreciation as you lean against your boyfriend's chest, and [REDACTED] returns the favour by bending down and pressing a chaste kiss against the crown of your head as well.

"...Think y'could give this unworthy prince another kiss, love?" Your beloved boyfriend leans in closer until your lips are millimetres away from touching, "Otherwise I might stay cursed t'live in this froggy form forever."

[yrenesbrainrotss]

heyy!!

idk who all you write for in the ENA fandom, but if you write for froggy do you think you could make general (sfw) romantic hcs with him + a gender neutral reader? theres been ONE other froggy fic on here and i cant confidently write him </3

of course, if you dont write for him or just dont feel up to writing this, thats completely okay!! im just glad ENA writers are back again

A/N: hyaaa!! I managed to write something for our Froggy guy! He’s such a fun character and i think he’s a great comic relief but i wrote him a bit more serious and affectionate towards reader since i feel like he doesn’t want the reader to think that he doesn’t take them seriously.

Enjoyyyy💘

•summary: general romantic hcs with froggy

•warnings: none!

•pronouns: not specified

your relationship with froggy was … peculiar to say the least but still sweet . When he’s not barking orders at ENA, Froggy spends his time with you,sharing his fragments of his new job offer which he assigned to his trusted friend ,ENA, or spending time together at the newest upside down diner.

Whenever you guys spend some alone time you often ramble about your newest interest,trinkets or clothing that might be popular. Froggy always does his best in acquiring any items that you mention or things that remind him of you.

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

“You know, recently i saw that bat-winged shoes have become more popular these days. I really need to start saving up for them..” Froggy listens intently, with a hand supporting his chin and occasionally asking you about this new interest of yours.He makes a mental note to ask around about where could he find these unique shoes.

….

“ENA it seems your new task is to through the horse door this time…I have the details of the job right here.” Froggy hands an envelope with the instructions and places ENA needs to search,he then remembers the gift he wanted to surprise you with:“Ah..if you don’t mind.. could you pick these up on the way back?”

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

This goes with jewelry as well,gifting you a rare eyeball necklace or siren teeth earrings.Whenever you try on something he bought you he always hypes you up and tells you how beautiful you look.He loves trailing his fingertips over your curves when you wear that new dress he got you,saying things like “You look gorgeous in this..” or “You should wear this more often”

I just know that Froggy is a certified cat lover.He once saw a one eyed black kitty running around and cooed at its sugary gaze. He immediately decided he wanted to keep it.When you came home later that day you were surprised to see a small creature purring in your lover’s arms,nuzzling against the soft plush.You agreed to keep it and raise it as your own little baby. Froggy unironically calls the small cat “Alpha” thinking it’s a really cool name.

After a stressful day at work,and after giving orders and instructions all day, Friggy often finds himself frustrated and fueled with anger, saying how his clear indications are too hard to follow by his “incompetent errand runners”. On these days its likely that he will pick on you for no apparent reason or make snarky remarks at the smallest misplaced thing or a chair that wasn’t placed “in the correct way”. In an intense fight out of nowhere, you suddenly grab his red tie hanged around his neck , pull him towards you with a strong grip and kiss him right then and there to shut him up. It seems to be working since Froggy’s muffled yells have ceased and his soft plushy fisted hands now embraced your lower back. He mutters a small apology against you soft lips and peppers your entire face with kisses.

The weather is really strange in the dreamy land where you both now resided. Sometimes the heat is too much to bear and the next day the snow envelopes the whole place. Snowy days are spent under soft crocheted blankets with snacks scattered throughout the room and on the nightstand,watching a movie. Froggy’s cushion arm splayed accros the bed, serving as a velvet pillow for your increasingly sleepy self.Your cheek smushed against his chest,engulfed by his imposing but soft form,eyes trying their best to stay open, and smooth fingers combing your silky hair. Quiet sounds of the TV can be heard and the pitter patter of the snow against the window,marking a cozy day with your significant other.

You sometimes remember moments from your old life,surrounded by friends and family.

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

You sit on the edge of the broken bridge,with blood reaching your knees.You swing your legs in the pool of blood,observing the shapes forming and your own reflection looking right back at you. You don’t look like your old self.

A figure plops down next to you,swinging their own legs over the bridge.You recognize it as Froggy,who nudges your shoulder with his own. “What’s wrong tadpole? You look a little more down than usual.” You don’t say anything,you don’t even need to, he already knows what you mind is plagued with. He envelopes you in a side hug,kissing your jaw and nuzzling into your neck,enjoying your warm skin and rhythmic pulse. “You don’t need to talk right now if you don’t want to…just know you can always talk to me,I’m always with you.”

[froggydraws]

Filling out the Pokédex 📝

[pond-froggie]

When Ford was living in the shack alone, he came across a creature that towered over him with lanky limbs, protruding bones, and antlers coming out of its skull. He of course dedicated a page to it in his journal. He realized the creature was trying to communicate with him but he was never able to understand what it was trying to say. He then kept discovering other anomalies and moved on from it. 

However, it would knock on his windows and door and be especially persistent when it was raining. It always followed Ford around whenever he was in the forest, indirectly chasing off other creatures. He got fed up with it keeping him awake at night so he set traps, nothing to hurt it but just to get it suck in a way that it can get out on its own so it stays away. And it works. Ford only ever saw it in the corner of his eye. Ford then meets Bill, builds the portal, realizes he made a mistake, Stan comes, Ford goes through the portal. 

Stan has journal one which he can't fix the portal with on its own so he goes searching in the forest for the other journals. He can't find them. He breaks down and yells and sits in the middle of the forest and cries where no one can hear him. Or so he thinks. 

He somehow hears rustling of leaves through his sobbing and he looks up from his hands and finds a beast towering over him. His breath catches in his throat and he tries to scramble away but he's too shaky from his breakdown. 

The beast looks at him curiously before going down on all fours and showing its neck. That seems to calm Stan down. He thought that all the weird creatures in the journal were just some form of creative expression but he remembered seeing something like this. 

Stan pulled the journal out and flipped through it eventually finding the page. He showed the creature, feeling silly for a second until it nodded and pointed to itself. The creature slowly reached towards Stan, closing the journal before pointing to the six fingered hand on the cover then to Stan's five fingered hand and making a confused trill. 

“Ohhh buddy, you're not going to believe this.” 

Turns out he did believe it. 

Stan explained everything, the creature looked sad but not all too shocked. Stan asked if it was close to Ford. The creature made a pained grunt and showed him with leaves. 

It took one red leaf and had it move around from leaf to leaf before stopping at a leaf with a pebble on it. The red leaf moved away from it but the leaf with the pebble followed. The creature made angry grunts and growls before leaving the leaf with the pebble behind again but the leaf with the pebble still followed, just out of sight. 

“That makes two of us… Wait! So you know where the other journals are!” 

The creature nodded. 

“I need them to fix the portal. Can you show me where they are?” 

The sun had set by the time Stan had all three journals in his possession. He rushed back to the cabin but stopped at the door, looking back at the creature standing just at the edge of the treeline. 

“We’ll talk more tomorrow, I promise.”

The next day, Stan found him in the clearing behind the cabin. He brought along the three journals, books he thought might be relevant, and notebooks that were filled with Fords equations. He plopped it all on the ground and threw himself down along with it.

“Buddy, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm never going to get him out of there. I never even graduated highschool, how the hell am I supposed to understand all this?” Stan pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes till spots formed. 

Stan listened to the papers rustling and figured there was no harm in letting the creature look. He then felt a tap on his shoulder. He pulled his hands from his eyes and looked up at him. 

“What.”

The creature tapped his finger against the pages so Stan looked. He pointed to different topics in the textbook then to different equations and sections in the portal drawings. 

“You saw him do all this?” 

The creature shook his head. He pointed to himself, then to his head, then to the pages. 

“You KNOW this stuff!” 

He made a ‘so so’ hand gesture.

Stan's excitement slid off his face and was replaced with sadness. 

“You weren't always like this, were you?”

The creature shook his head sadly. 

“Is there a way I can cure you?”

The creature's eyes went wide before he nodded. 

Stan pushed the pencil and paper towards the creature but he just shook his head. After some back and forth they figured out a communication method. It was slow, but worked. The creature would point to words in all the books and Stan would figure out what he was trying to say from that. 

The cure was simple. Gnome spit, fairy dust, unicorn snot, and manotaur sweat. Mix together and wipe it on his forehead. 

Yeah… Simple.

The gnomes were more than happy to give some spit if it meant getting the creature out of their forest. They also gave a discount on fairy dust for the price of one pb&j. Stan found the unicorns and started insulting the mane of the first one he saw, making it cry. He watched the Manotaurs for a while and his first plan was to challenge one to arm wrestle until he saw one snap a small tree like a twig. So he challenged them to stand on hot coals. Good thing they aren't well acclimated to humans and dont know that human feet don't look like Ford's temperature proof boots. 

Stan hiked back down to the cabin and gathered all the ingredients together. 

“You better be a cute human.” Stan groaned, glaring up at the beast most only have nightmares about currently sitting and grinning like a dog about to get a treat. 

He smeared it across his forehead and nothing happened for a few seconds until he collapsed on the ground and started writhing in pain. Stan watched as his bones contorted and skin grew in places where there wasn't before, but where there was supposed to be. 

He was turning human. 

After an agonizing minute of Stan listening to the pained growls turn into groans and yells into words and pants, a human is left lying on the ground. He holds his hands in front of him and stares at them, smiling. 

“Ugh, spit, snot, ‘n sweat? Really?!” The man wipes the mixture off his forehead. “Thank you Stanley.” He smiles up at him. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course.” Stan rubs the back of his neck. The two smile at each other for a little bit before the man startles out of it. 

“Oh! I’m sure you have questions and now that I can talk, I’d be glad to answer them.” 

“What about your name?” 

“Oh good golly how could I forget. Fiddleford McGucket.”

“Well Fidds, how about you get settled and some real food in you that isn’t whatever you were eating out there, and then we can get to the questions.” Stan gestures to the cabin behind him. 

“That would be nice.”

When they manage to get Ford out he asks Fiddleford who he is. He grabs the journal and opens to his page and explains the curse. 

“Im surprised someone like Stanley could figure out how to communicate with you.”

“I opened the portal once to get you out, I could open it again to shove you back in, again. And I know how you treated Fidds when he was cursed, you were too stupid to see he was trying to talk to you.”

“I had more important things to work on. Besides, I would have gotten it eventually.”

“Ya barely even tried…”

~~~~~

LORE

Fiddleford told his wife he wanted a divorce and she conveniently has a witch friend that she got to place a curse on him. He wasn't able to make the cure himself or be there when the ingredients were collected. When he was cursed, he was told how to make the cure and its impossible for him to forget it. He was unable to talk or write. As for how he got to Gravity Falls… something something weirdness magnet- I don't know. 

[e-squared-what-is-my-life]

POV: Your Best Friend Accidentally Pisses Off Your Girlfriend During a "Family Dinner"

Moony: So, ENA, is Claire always gonna have the same name?

Coral Glasses: What do you mean? Why wouldn't she?

Happy ENA: *Blushes Lightly* Ah, I probably should have explained this when Claire was introduced. *Sighs and Sets Her Fork Down/Politely Cleans Her Face With a Napkin* Most ENAs, to my exclusive knowledge, are born with a... Agh, how should I put this?

Salesperson ENA: A Calling Name.

Froggy: A... "Calling Name"?

Happy ENA: *Nods and Hums* It’s the name we're given at Assimilation that we respond to until we're old enough to understand the concept of our species. Each ENA has their own personalized Call Name, and only a few continue to respond to it once they're fully matured.

Salesperson ENA: I, personally, have no true recollection of my Call Name. Was never truly invested in something that reminded me of my parents.

Dratula: So you two have met other ENAs?

Salesperson ENA: Personally, I've only met about three and a half others, my beloved being included.

Happy ENA: I've met a group of ENAs once. When I was traversing the halls of the temple of The Great Runas. One in particular was very kind - A bit glitchy and... Ahem, forward... But kind nonetheless.

Moony: Oh! I remember you telling me about her! What did you say her name was?

Happy ENA: *Opens Her Mouth and Lets Out Dial-up Noises*

Froggy: Uh-huh... And, um... How, exactly would one spell that?

Happy ENA: *Spells the Name in Morse Code*

Froggy: Right. No clue why I expected anything different.

Moony: Yeah, I get it. It's weird, but not as weird as noticing bite marks on your friend's arm when she's telling you about her "new friend"!

Happy ENA: *Blushing Furiously* I told you already, Moony! The bite meant nothing!

Kane: You guys can bite?

Happy ENA: *Sighs* Yes, but it typically only happens during times of great stress or... *Mutters*

Coral Glasses: I'm sorry, I don't think I caught that.

Happy ENA: *Mutters a Bit Louder*

Dratula: Huh?

Moony: Ugh! Do I have to say everything?! She gets super toothy when she's hor-

Happy ENA: *Slams a Hand Over Moony's Mouth* THANK YOU, MOONY! I think they've heard enough!

Taski Maiden: *Gasps* You got raunchy with another ENA?!

Sad ENA: For the love of- IT WASN’T LIKE THAT!

Moony, tauntingly: Suuuuure.

Froggy: *Looks Over and Sees Meanie* ENA, are you alright?

Meanie ENA: Yeah, no, yeah; I'm fine! Perfectly good! A-OK! *Accidentally Breaks Her Fork in Half*

Taski Maiden: *Quietly, to Happy ENA* Oh, you're dead.

Sad ENA: *Groans and Facepalms*

[froggymug]

Phantom Racer Chapter 5 + 6!!!!!

The day after Turbo’s unwelcome arrival, the dust is far from settled. And as everyone goes about their day, more than just bad feelings get kicked up. Ghostly dead pixels stir up trouble.

Thanks to everyone who's been so patient and kind!!!!!!!!!! I love y'all!!!! Enjoy!!!!!!

[changbin-froggy-jimin]

I want to have Hongjoong go to the post office in my new fic! I wonder if it should have small town vibes.... That feels narratively significant for showing the differences between him and Seonghwa. If it did then who would be the mail person? Oh! It should be Yunho that would be so-

My brain:

Me:

Link

[grimgrinningghost456]

How to care for Your Fledgling when they’re Stuck as a Bat.

A step by step guide by Count Vladimir Marius Dracula.

When One has acquired a brand new fledgling or bride, the first goals to ensure its success is to feed and nurture your new family member. In some cases, your new nest mate may be slow in feeding or shape shifting into their bat form. For the latter, allow me to help you along this journey by example of my dearest bride, Jonathan Harker. Without further ado, the steps to handle your fledgling as a bat, and what to do if they cannot figure out how to shift back to their proper shape.

Step 1: If your fledgling is rather stubborn by nature, and struggles with following orders, I suggest a slightly firmer hand with their training. Specifically, the hands on approach. In order to help them shift, press upon the pressure point between their shoulder blades and at the nape of the neck. By doing so, you will trigger the change to happen instinctually. If your fledgling panics, refer to step 3.

Step 2: Once your fledgling has changed forms, gently examine their wings in order to check for any damage or deformities. Afterwords, calmly explain the art of flying. If your fledgling struggles, shift yourself and teach by example in order to give them visual examples.

Step 3: If your fledgling begins to panic, (which I have more than my fair share of experience with) be sure to cup them in your hands gently but firmly. Gentle enough as not to harm their wings, yet firmly enough to prevent their flying off. If your fledgling bites, deposit them into their coffin, or a brass birdcage and allow them to tire themself out.

Step 4: Whether or not you’ve had time to properly have your fledgling fly, it is best if you only had them as a bat for an hour and a half for the first experience. It is more than likely that your young nest mate will be stuck as a bat, having no full grasp on their abilities. It is your job as the master of the nest to keep the fledgling calm. The more panicked they become, the less likely they’ll return to their humanoid form any time soon.

What to do when your fledging is stuck as a bat for over 12 hours.

It is heavily advised that you keep your bat fully fed at this time. A fledgling going into a frenzy is nothing compared to a fledgling-bat on a frenzy. Smaller, faster, and they’re unfortunately able to get into crevices that fully grown vampires such as yourself cannot.

A healthy diet for their time as a bat is as followed:

Blood, advisedly your own in order to keep the bat calm

Fruit is acceptable in this form. I have found bananas, strawberries, and oranges to be the favored choices.

Bugs are to be taken in small helpings, too much and your fledgling may become, with a lack of better terms, “flighty”

As long as you follow these instructions to the letter, there shouldn’t be any issues with the continued shape-shifting lessons, or with a bloodthirsty bat wrecking havoc upon your village. Good luck.

(I decided to give this a go, thinking it would be a funny little tidbit. @0nelittlebirdtoldme , @argyleheir , if you’re interested in taming fresh vamps as bats, Drac has you covered)

[hypodermicfroggy]

Iconoclast

A good tragedy begins, like so many With the shadow of an eagle Cast over an old sailor's home.

His faith had been lost ages ago Beaten out of him By father and fatherland both

Despite the scars of wars fought With enemies both home and abroad He tries to find peace anyway

For what can all of the finery And all the riches of Olympus compare To the simple joys of love and family?

And his wife is not of this land or its gods She is bronze-skinned, her features proud She is not one to be made to bow

To be so brazen, so content without the gods Of course there would be a punishment Because to err is human, but jealousy is divine

The daughter that grows within his wife is not his But neither of them know That she was conceived by a reflection

At least, not until the day When he would be brought back to memories Of bloody and burning battlefields

The bird that soars over his home now It casts no shadow, for it is a beast Of jewel-like feathers and brilliant flame

It screams, echoing them as they burn The hundreds of unblinking eyes in its tail A hateful accusation amidst the mocking sound

And the sailor is left with nothing But the ashes of his life and love Carried away on the rivers of Phlegethon

Any other man would have simply been broken Fallen to his knees and wept then and there Begged the gods for forgiveness

But the sailor, though he weeps He does not prostrate and debase himself She did not bow, and neither would he.

As many tragedies as there are People love the stories of heroes just as much Men who fight back against monsters and tyrants

And the sailor knew, since his own youth There has been a whole host of tyrannical monsters Ruling over this place for many years

He speaks not to oracles of what to do He does not raise an army He does not beseech gods of other lands

Instead he walks alone Fixated on his skyward destination Cloud-hidden Olympus, home of the gods

And in that home, drunk on their ambrosia and power They laugh with such confidence Amused by this one mortal's determination

Obstacles are put in his path Some natural, a great deal not Things to liven up the entertainment

Only one of their number does not laugh She is the eldest, the wisest, and closest to man And knows what they've brought on themselves

Is it her protection that lets him make his journey? Or is it his fury that pushes him on The way a storm, fittingly, pushes ship to shore?

The answer is unknown But beasts and barricades do not deter him Pain and punishment do not scare him away

Until at long last, the sailor is there Standing where no mortal has before In the hall of the gods

They could have cast him out easily But instead he is kept among them A fool to dance until they tire of him

And it is on that sacred mount That he meets the others Who have also been 'blessed' by the gods

The heroic Heracles Who never asked to be his father's son And lost his own family for it anyway

The youthful Ganymede Kept eternally beautiful by his immortality With eyes that betray his millenia of service

The wandering Callisto A maddened beast pacing the skies Forsaken by the ones she thought loved her

The sweet Europa, and outcast Io Neither can bear the feasts of sacred beef But for very different reasons

And so many others, children and consorts Playthings of the powerful Kept in beds and prisons both

There are those who claim That man was crafted In the image of their gods

This is meant to imply, of course That there is a trace of divinity Within all of us

But the sailor sees the true nature of the gods - When he is subject to their tumult, Their moods, and whims, and vices

He knows now, it is not a compliment He knows instead it is a damnation Of his kind and themselves

To be cast in their image Simply means being just as corrupt and contemptible As the most wretched of mankind is

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

When he walks off the mountain His hands are drenched in ichor And he is no longer alone

Behind him walk ten, a hundred, a thousand All those who the gods claimed as theirs Once again free to live without fear

And he whispers as he bares his gold-stained teeth Feathers caught between them Like a feral wildcat glutted from one of its hunts

'Long live the king of the gods For the king of the gods is dead.'

[pukefactory]

froggy dating hcs?

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ PATH TO WEIRD LOVE ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

𖠊 Summary: A Compilation Of Dating Headcanons Featuring Froggy X Reader

𖠊 Character(s): Froggy (Ena: Dream BBQ)

𖠊 Genre: Headcanons, SFW

𖠊 Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

𖠊 Image Credits: @JoelG

˗ˏˋ The first time Froggy confessed to you, it was absolutely not romantic. He stormed into the breakroom with a paper cup of suspicious vending machine coffee and yelled, “OKAY, LISTEN! I LIKE YOU. YOU’RE STRANGELY TOLERABLE FOR A BUFFOON. WANNA DATE?!” Then he dropped the cup, burned his foot, and limped away shouting something about horoscopes and intestinal fate. You didn’t even get a chance to answer—he showed up the next day acting like it was already established, calling you his “little work assistant” and pretending he hadn’t cried into a riceball over it.

˗ˏˋ He constantly leaves you absolutely bewildering voice memos. One day it’s “Hey, sweetheart! I dreamed you were a giant shrimp last night. I was a lemon wedge. Romantic, right?” Another day it’s just thirty seconds of him wheezing from running, followed by, “I ran into a wall. I think I cracked my spine. Anyway, lunch?”

˗ˏˋ Froggy has exactly one love language and it is boisterous yelling and panicked devotion. You trip on a stair? He is already screaming at the floor architect. You’re late to lunch? “WHAT IF YOU FELL INTO A DIMENSIONAL PIT?!” You sneeze? He’s throwing three packets of soup at you and demanding you sit still while he incorrectly reads your horoscope and tries to decode which cold remedy works best for “lovesick, elegant types.”

˗ˏˋ He’s not great at physical affection, but he tries. He’ll hold your hand while narrating loudly to passersby: “DON’T LOOK TOO LONG, CITIZENS! THIS IS ROMANCE—A PRIVATE AFFAIR FOR PROFESSIONALS ONLY!” Hugs are brief, full-body crashes that leave you both dazed and covered in lint from his frog suit. Kisses? Rare. But when he does go for it, he misses by like two inches and then yells, “AHH! FORGET YOU SAW THAT. I WAS AIMING FOR YOUR SOUL!”

˗ˏˋ You are his emergency contact. He made it official on a sticky note. It says: My little work assistant: My Most Trusted Beloved Idiot. Relationship: Life Partner (Probably). Special Instructions: If I am dying, give them my frog suit. Tell them I love them. Do NOT let Ena plan the funeral. She’ll make it weird.

˗ˏˋ Every time you talk about breaking up (even jokingly), he becomes unhinged. “OH? OH?? So you’re saying you’d leave behind this? This dazzling specimen of emotional fragility? You’d abandon a man with getas so shiny?!” You have to hug him for a solid five minutes while he fake-sobs and dramatically vows to win you back with “romantic competency training” from suspicious magazines.

˗ˏˋ He gets jealous… but not like a normal person. One time you complimented the Receptionist’s voice, and Froggy showed up an hour later with a kazoo. “Do you like this better?! Am I not velvety enough for you?! I CAN HUM ALL DAY!” He hums so hard he gets dizzy. You have to hold him upright and tell him he’s “the loudest kazoo of your heart” just to calm him down.

˗ˏˋ He absolutely cannot cook. At all. But he insists on making you lunch. You open the box and find: a raw potato, three unwrapped cough drops, a napkin that says “I LOVE YOU (PROFESSIONALLY)” in crayon, and what might be a fried mushroom. “I made it with care. Don’t eat it though. I think it’s poisonous.”

˗ˏˋ When you’re sad, he goes silent. Which, for Froggy, is devastating. You know something’s wrong when he just sits beside you, looking down, fidgeting with his frog hat. Then he blurts out some nonsense like, “If sadness were a boss, I’d punch it for you. Or maybe file a complaint. I love you, okay? You’re allowed to take breaks. Even from happiness.” It never makes perfect sense, but it always makes you feel better.

˗ˏˋ He tries to plan romantic dates like he’s preparing for a boss battle. You’ll arrive to find a hand-drawn map with labeled points like “MAKE THEM LAUGH ZONE” and “FLOWER-FLINGING AREA,” followed by “CONFESSION PIT (DO NOT FALL IN).” The map is terrible. The flower-flinging zone is just a trash can full of petals. But the moment he grabs your hand and nervously says, “Ehh…let’s walk this whole stupid map together,”—You realize you wouldn’t trade this ridiculous, loudmouthed frog-man for anything.