#froggy fics
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No thoughts head empty, just thinking about Simon walking into the kitchen as you're doing your thing and hugging you from behind, kissing your neck and the spot behind your ear. Whispering sweet nothings and inhaling your scent, showing how grateful he is that you made him feel loved for the first time in forever, how you were patient with his boundaries and adored him nonetheless🥹💚
#froggy fics#cod#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#ghost riley#cod simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#gn reader#cod x reader#call of duty mw2
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i love putting my blorbos in silly little outfits
#qkdraws#mob psycho 100#mp100#mob#shigeo kageyama#mp100 shigeo#behold . a little fuckin guy#i think my fav is the froggy jacket. he looks so cute in it#confession i kinda half-assed the cat shirt cuz i was rapidly losing steam by the end of it#and also i didn't have confidence that i could make good-looking cat silhouettes so i just. didn't VGEYIAGV#im sosorry. been workin on a lotta art lately mayhaps i need a break#should get back to writin that mp100 fic i was makin. haven't looked at it in a couple days#also workin on a new character .. And that commission .... and So Many totk pieces i wanna make#oguhoguhgh i am just one little specimen i cannot handle all these experiments the mad scientists r putting me through /silly
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As much as I enjoy seeing people draw or meta about laserfrog relationship, like how they get along or are sweet together etc, my favorite version/stage of the ship is when Dolph is so very much not over Alex and refuses to admit his feelings because he doesn't want a rebound and meanwhile Bullfrog is sat calmly waiting aspec-ly on the side for Dolph to get a fucking clue
Also post-s1 has so much to explore u can take them anywhere
#me stuff#laserfrog#i need them to be awkward so bad so thats why ive hit almost 4k on this fic and then havent even gotten CLOSE to talking about feelings#also yes bullfrog is aspec 2 me. what exactly? idk. hes aspec. hes froggy
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what if i was emotionally vulnerable through fanfiction using one of the guys who lives in my brain haha jk. unless
(idk how to tag this. plural confusion/questioning i guess? conflicting sfw and nsfw headspaces? I FORGOT TO MENTION SUICIDE IDEATION IM SO SORRY, it’s just one line near the end but it jumps out at u surprise, sorry. there is nothing graphic and also swearing)
//
Joel is having an accident before he even touches down.
His shoes scuff on the pavement- he almost trips but doesn’t, (skillful flying, says prideful joel. complete and absolute luck, retorts editor joel- shut up, editor joel), and he rushes off on unsteady legs.
He isn’t going to make it, he knows, but he holds himself anyway and hurries up the street. Each pounding step jostles his bladder more.
“Stop,” he pants, “stop, no, no no no no-”
He ducks into a side alley as the stream properly starts. He soaks through his underwear, his pants, knees pressed together, elytra crushed between his back and the wall as he slumps against it. He can feel it rushing out of him as he holds himself, warm and wet and awful, awful, awful. His eyes clench shut as he makes a mess, as if puddles beneath him, soaking shoes, socks, pants-
He didn’t mean to do that.
(Would it have felt better if he did?)
“Stop,” he says aloud, voice bouncing up the walls of the alleyway. He’s uncomfortably wet, his pants squishing as he shifts, knees pressed together. He opens his eyes but stares upwards at the curved roofs of his city, wondering if the accident will go away if he ignores it.
(That’s never the case, though, is it? You’ll have to live with your mistakes, forever, no matter how childish or stupid or painful they may be- shut up, editor Joel.)
With tears in his eyes and one flick of his hand, he opens chats, spots a few other online hermits. He’s breathing heavier than he’d ever admit, and typing before he can consider what he’s doing.
<Smallishbeans> hgekelp plkdeasee
<Grian> yeah buddy?
<Iskall85> whats wrong yoel?
<Etho> you at your city?
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
He puts a palm on six-year-old Joel’s forehead and shoves him away from the front- (it’s fine the kid isn’t real- you hurt me, that hurt! meanie!- he isn’t real-)
<Smallishbeans> skory
<Smallishbeans> sorry
<Smallishbeans> disregard that
<Smallishbeans> im fine
<Etho> youre at your city right?
<Smallishbeans> no
<Smallishbeans> im okay
He closes chat. He’s shaking. He’s wet. He’s uncomfortable. Six-year-old Joel pouts at him and opens chat again.
<Etho> if you say so
Joel swallows a whine. He isn’t six. He isn’t six. He is thirty years old. He is not six-
He freezes. Chat closes in a blip. Etho’s landed on the street beside him, about to begin a search, (he doesn’t know whether to be grateful or to cry), but they lock eyes instead.
Etho’s eyes flick down. Joel chokes out a sob. Wishes he didn’t. Wishes he wasn’t real.
Etho pads closer. Quiet as always. He crouches when Joel squirms and looks away. Doesn’t say anything until Joel meets his eyes again.
“Bun?” Etho questions, voice gentle, words slow. Joel hates that Jimmy called him that in front of the hermits- now they can make him small using one word and he hates it. “You okay?”
Part of him seizes the nickname, holding on tight, a buoy in a storming ocean. Another wave of tears cascades down his face. He wants to wipe them away. He can’t. It’s gross. He’s gross. (He hates the part of himself that wants to make out with Etho right now.)
“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, (pleads. gods, Etho, make it okay, call him bun again, please). “I’m okay.”
Etho nods. Adjusts his mask. “Do you want me to help?”
I want you to leave, screams his head. I want you to make it better, whines six-year-old joel. What would you think of me, if you had seen that? What would you have don-?
Joel shrugs.
“I can go.”
“Don’t go.”
“Okay,” he says. “Want to clean up?”
He takes in a long, stammering breath.
“Yeah? Yeah. Please.”
“Touch okay?”
“No.”
Etho nods, easily enough. He turns to lead the way, back to Joel’s house, his room, his clean clothes-
Joel takes a deep, deep breath. Then pushes himself off the wall and trails behind Etho with tears in his eyes and shame hanging over his every move.
He’s squishing. He’s wet. He’s awful, awful, awful. He said no to touch, but he reaches out anyway, desperate for (something, anything)-
His fingers grip the back of Etho’s vest. Etho doesn’t turn back, just offers his hand, squeezes once when Joel takes it. Doesn’t say anything. (Says a million things, maybe. Joel doesn’t know what he wants to hear right now.)
They make it inside, upstairs. To closets to pick new clothes (wolf pajamas, thanks six-year-old Joel), to the bath to check temperatures. Etho doesn’t talk, neither does Joel. He holds his hand the entire time.
Etho turns to him, suddenly pausing, a hint of red peeking out over the mask on his face. He looks from Joel’s face, down to his pants, then back up again. To the running water of the bath. Out the window. He closes the curtains. Looks back to Joel, down and up again.
“Can I do it?” Joel mumbles.
“Of course,” Etho answers. Neither let go.
Joel shrinks. “Don’t want you to see.”
He squeezes his hand. “I’ll wait outside.”
He shrinks further. “Didn’t want you to see.”
A pause. Etho’s thumb glides over his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
Joel sniffles.
“Want you to stay.”
“I’ll be outside,” he says, thumb gliding, rubbing, what have you. “Close enough?”
A pause. Joel sniffles.
“Close enough.”
Etho squeezes again before letting go.
Joel stands alone (alone? is he ever alone? he’s always alone) in the bathroom for longer than he’d ever admit. It’s a struggle to get his pants off, embarrassment, shame, relief, (excitement? fuck off) well up in overwhelming amounts.
The bath is as long as he can stand it. His pajamas are soft. He wonders if he should put a diaper on. All he has are boxers. (He wishes he had diapers. He wishes he would die.)
He steps around his wet things left on the floor. The pajamas are childish, too big- the most comfortable thing he owns. He avoids the mirror, covering his face with a towel and pretends he’s drying his hair.
He finds Etho in his living room, leafing through an obnoxiously bright magazine that he surely doesn’t understand a word of.
He spots Joel, eyes crinkling warmly as he sets the magazine aside and opens his arms in invitation.
Six-year-old Joel perks up, phantom tail wagging. They hang up their towel and rush into his arms, curling up tight.
Thirty year old Joel lays his head on Etho’s shoulder and wonders why the fuck he just did that.
“Hey bun,” Etho tries again, tone as gentle as his hold. “You okay?”
“Don’t call me that,” Joel mumbles. Six-year-old Joel whines in protest.
“Sorry.” it’s genuine. Joel wants to explode. “Is touching too much?”
“Yes,” Joel answers, clinging tighter.
Etho keeps a tentative hold on him, his tone light but confused, “I’m getting mixed signals here, Joel.”
“Sorry.” he presses closer, hiding his face. (Little Joel is going to make them cry again. He can’t tell if it’s happy or sad.) “Mm sorry I’m making you uncomfortable.”
“You’re not,” he answers, holds tighter, “I’ve got you.”
#froggy drabbles#diap stuff#me when this is exactly like every fic ive ever written but also none of them and ive never written this before#haha. anyways.#not where i wanted that to end? only half touches on what i wanted it to?#this has been writing with froggy. might redo this later
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Wake up babes, new royjamie fic just dropped! (It’s a sequel to my touchstarved fic, but can be read as a stand-alone!) You can find it here:
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I have to keep telling myself that I cannot post half finished fic. Especially something I want polished real nice. But I want y'all to read this so badly it ain't even funny because I am SCREAMING as I write it.
#froggy talks writing#they are TENDER#they are SOFT#I am ON THE FLOOR#FUCK I need to name this fic#shadowidomauk
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hello :) let loose your glow...so warm and wonderful!!! I just felt so good reading it!!! That was so fucking cute and heartwarming!!! You are so gifted!!!! 💕💕💕 the [spoiler alert] shadowbox with the ten dollar bill at the end? Yes, I cried. Henry playing piano for him over video? YES, I CRIED!!!!!!!! 😭💛
aw thank you!!! i'm glad you liked those moments in the last chapter, i wanted to do them justice and make it meaningful and both of them felt right 😊 it makes me so happy that llyg gave you that heartwarming feeling 💖
#froggy chair#llyg#this fic is my child i love it i'm always soft when people tell me it left a positive impression on them so thank YOU
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If you give a scene/chapter from a fic...
I'll give you comic of it.
Because you deserve a comic of your favorite fics :3
that’s real sweet but I don’t have many fics I read !;w; but I appreciate it !
#I’m real sorry my memory is too bad to recall any scenes or to search them up at the moment!#but again very sweet of you thankyou but why don’t you draw your favorite fics!#froggy mail time
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I’m curious. Would your version of Dracula every try to toss your Johnny into a dress/gown/women’s clothing whether for manipulation/humiliation (general whump) or pure lack of care over gender stereotypes? (Like, really honing in on the term “bride” and the feminization of the word)
I was debating whether to answer this now or after my exam in a few days, but since i don't know how my life will look like then, here we go;
Drac would most certainly try to do it, and Jonathan would fight with teeth and nails against it. Forced feminization/crossdressing is quite literally Jonathan's biggest trigger and he'd pretty much die before let it happen willingly. It is worse to him than actual torture. The few times Dracula tries to have a go at it, it doesn't go well. If i remember correctly he plays it once as a joke in DS, where he jokingly lays out a dress for Jonathan, and the other time in An Inch or Two where he tries to gift him as a pair of heels as a present, which Jonathan rejects quite violently. In Pet Names and All it is implied that Vlad lets a female pet name/slur slip during sex (whether intentional or not), which pretty much lets Jonathan disassociate and turn passive.
Jonathan's hatred comes from obvious sexuality and gender identity issues, trauma, internalized homophobia, you name it. It is just. not. his. thing. Depending on the AU, I can imagine Drac actually understanding that this is the one threshold he daren't cross, the one thing that goes too far. Secretly, he certainly thinks it would be a pretty picture, but settles on not living out this one specific phantasy of his.
Do I now want to write a fic in which he actually goes through with it and puts Jonathan in a corset, while cooing at him how pretty he looks? Yes. But maybe that is a plotbunny for another time ~
#thank you for the ask froggy!#my headcanons#my fic#dracula x jonathan harker#harkula#murder husbands
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Let's just forget for a while that Homelander is unhinged and let's just imagine him coming back home from a long day and just absolutely snugging up to you, as if he wants you to merge in one. Inhaling your sweet scent and listening to your heartbeat, gently purring as you put one of your hands in his bait and gently stroke. This man is so touch starved and would do everything for you to treat him like that.
Or imagine having a spa day with him, doing silly sheet masks and painting your nails. He deserves to be pampered after all he's gone through. Help him bleach his roots and watch some movies tile hugging under the blanket.
I'm so obsessed with this man<3
#froggy fics#the boys#homelander#homelander x reader#hes such a princess cutiepie#my little meow meow#homie
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Early August, 1934, Cornwall
Gabriel could feel his eye twitch, his brows furrowed.
“I told you that I am staying here, I simply misplaced my key.”
The porter eyed him, eyebrow raised and button-mouth pressed into a frown.
“Listen, I—”
“He’s with me.”
Gabriel looked beside him, blinked, was he dreaming?
“Madam, my apologies, I had no idea, please.” He gestured towards the restaurant, where Gabriel had been trying for the last ten minutes to get into to have what he hoped would be a peaceful lunch.
What?
Beside him, Edith (still as small as she once was, though softer, her hair longer and her eyes tired, so tired) made her way into the restaurant, barely even glancing at him. Not that he had the right to be offended, really, since they’d left off on such a bad note, almost a decade ago, Gabriel was shocked she even helped him at all.
“Well?” Edith asked finally, looking over her shoulders, her coat shrugged off, hat gone, dressed in a simple blouse and long skirt, and looking back at him with those wide eyes and coy smile that always brought him back to Biarritz, when Edith dragged him down to the beach, the sun caught in her hair, bleached blond strands from the sun, her face smattered with freckles, smiling back at him, so vivid in his mind, over 10 years later.
“Well?” Gabriel asked, dumbfounded.
“Well, are you going to join me? Surely you do not wish to dine alone. I know how much you hate being left with your thoughts.”
Gabriel smirked, “You’ll find I’ve grown to enjoy it in the years since we’ve last seen each other.”
Edith rolled her eyes, still petulant as ever, “I suppose if you truly do not wish to join me—”
“I will. Though you must know, I am expecting company soon.”
“A woman?”
“No, why?” he bit his tongue just before he added a sly would that make you jealous? to save himself the embarrassment. She wasn’t his to make jealous anymore.
“A world-renowned detective, and still pleasing on the eyes? I’m quite surprised you don’t constantly have a woman on your arm, frankly.” Edith frowned when Gabriel helped her with her chair, lighting her cigarette with so much vitriol, you’d think Gabriel had spat in her face rather than simply helped her with her chair, “I sure do hope you aren’t trying to butter me up, Silva, you and I both know that regardless of whatever case you’re working on, flattery will not help you when it comes to me—”
“Who says I am on a case?”
“When aren’t you?” Edith spat, coughing, eyes watery, a reminder.
“If you must know then, I am not just joining you this afternoon simply to catch up,” he pulled a small card invitation out of his pocket, sliding it towards Edith for her to inspect, “It is why I am here, it is written in your name, but it’s not your handwriting.”
“Curious…” Edith trailed off, “and it coincides with when I was due to visit? I can assure you, Gabriel, I had no part in this.”
“I believe you.”
“Hmm,” Edith looked up at him, smiling, “You still recognise my handwriting?”
“Well, I am technically paid to notice stuff like that.” And it’s you, he thinks, how could I forget?
“So you are investigating me?” Edith asks, wry smile on her face, “Or at least, you think there is a case to be had here.”
“Well, impersonation is a crime, I ought to find out who has done this and why—”
“Am I to presume that you both will be having high tea?”
Gabriel felt a foot nudge his, looking up from the invitation and seeing Edith eyeing him, her eyebrow raised. Hm? Oh!
“I’m alright with that.”
The waiter nodded and left.
“You were saying?”
“Hmm…” Gabriel scratched his chin, “I was saying that impersonation is a crime, but I’m not so sure this counts, you know?”
“You’ll give yourself a headache if you keep agonising over it, dear.”
Gabriel smiled, nudging Edith’s foot across from him, trailing it up her leg, “You know, it’s been so long since we last saw each other—”
“And I treasure the time we’ve spent apart, I still remember thise l sleepless nights, staying awake whilst you worked away in your office.” Edith spat, moving her leg away and rustling around her bag.
“Please, like your ex husband was ever any better to you.”
Edith stopped, looked up at him, cold.
“At least he put me first for once.”
Obligatory @owlrolls tag because tumblr doesn’t always show my posts to her and vice versa
This is born out of me reading and researching a lot about Daphne Du Maurier for my English coursework, gaining a sudden interest in murder mysteries and visiting the Savoy for my 18th birthday almost 7 months ago. Oh, this has been rotting in my drafts for a while. Also, the random mention of Biarritz is in reference to my dear old mother who went on a business trip there with an accountancy firm back when she worked up London still and said it was very nice there
This is still technically a WIP because I wanna rework the dialogue and the pacing so here’s to hoping me posting this and seeing Owl’s inevitable outpour of excitement will encourage me to finally finish this
I have a lot of ideas for this story that I’m hoping I can do justice, it’s a lot different for me cuz I need to actually be clever about how I write it cuz it’ll be all murder-mystery alongside two ex lovers rekindling their relationship
#not a reblog for once#froggi rambles#hetalia#hws england#hws portugal#nyo england#engport#Portugal x nyo England#writing#1930s detective au#I love this au so much it’s my passion#I’m posting this also to encourage me to finally finish Owl’s birthday fic 😭 it’s still a WIP but I’m confident I can finish it to a good#standard#I also have a few other ideas in the works 👀 me and Owl are cooking up an au together and I still need to write for that
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tiny scribbly comic based off of whazzername's gaalee fic "Degrees of Separation"
Gaara and Lee know they are keeping things a secret, but all little Metal knows is that Gaara didn't pick him up. Big sad. 😔
Sakura is also there.
text under the cut :
Text above Lee and Gaara has arrows pointing to them both that says "Secretly dating"
- Gaara- "Hello, Lee. It's good to see you." - Metal, excitedly- "Gaa!" He wants Gaara to pick him up. Metal, again- "Gaa!!" -Gaara turns to walk away- "Bye Lee. Bye Metal." - Metal, sad, "Gaaaa"
big block of text in the middle is Metal screaming "GAAAAWAAAA!!!"
and everyone else is shocked by Metal's shout.
#gaalee#comic#gaara#rock lee#metal lee#secret relationship#comic based on a fic#leegaa#baby metal in his froggy carrier#naruto#sketchy#sketchbook#scribbles#degrees of separation#metal big sad#i wanted to give Gaara hat hair#sue me
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the end of sonic x except all of tails' friends hear what happened and they come by to visit and each keep giving him little gifts. big keeps stopping by to cook him various meals and make sure he's taking care of himself. at first tails stays alone in his room, and big just leaves the food outside his door, but eventually tails starts wandering out and watching big cook and prepare fish, and they start working together to make things. big doesnt talk much and tails enjoys the silence, but if he ever did want to talk, big knows an incredible amount of information on each fish he catches, and each recipe he cooks. he lists migration habits, habitat needs, water levels, how the weather affects the fishing, what rods to use for what seasons or lakes, and where he got the recipe, how he learned to cook, small stories about the people who taught him, etc. tails doesnt learn much more about big than anyone else knows, but he knows a lot about fish now.
#im obsessed with the thought that big is this mysterious adult figure and guardian in tails' life. like the fics by skimmingmilk (i think?)#froggy the emotional support frog? ig
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Hi hi! For your ask meme 🤩 🍬
Have a good day! 🐸🌸
HELLO SORRY I THOUGHT I HAD POSTED THIS ONE
🤩 What led to your interest in the fandom?
Uhhh the current fandom would probably be one foot in CK and half a foot in XMFC I guess. CK was hilarious - I did not want to watch it bc it looked like a soulless cash grab. Which, pandemic and I was like what the hell - and then turns out it was actually quite cool (more or less lmao). XMFC is some people repeatedly posting cherik on my dash and 10 years past me arose with a vengeance
🍬 Do you write for multiple fandoms? If yes, what is your favorite fic of yours for each fandom?
UuhUhhhhh can one nominate older stuff yes one can i said so
Naruto: Breathing underwater
Cobra Kai: Poison Tree
Merlin: Et Sic Incipimus Iterum
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Stone Ocean fixit
#ask meme#merthur#lawrusso#itakisa#jjba#ty froggy anon i had fun with this one!#hope youre having a good time out there!#fic recs
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It's quiet, in the Grimlands. A different quiet to Pixandria- instead of the shifting of sand there's the quiet bustle of a city at night. The Vampire population of the kingdom is out and about- albeit missing their leader.
fWhip is half human, Pixl knows. Human enough to eat solid foods without issue. Vampire enough that he could stay up all night, if he really wanted to. But hours ago he'd called Pixl, excited and childlike. Asked for help calming down, for settling into bed before the sun went down. He's trying to sleep now, breathing evenly. But Pixl knows he's wide awake even before he turns over on the bed, looking up at Pix like a deer in headlights.
The count's eyes change color- they're purple at twilight, lavender at dawn. Blue during the day. Right now they are a bright ruby red that glitters in the moonlight leaking through the window.
"Pix?" he whispers.
"fWhip," Pixl responds, gentle as he can manage. He reaches out to brush his fingers through the kid's hair, and pulling back when fWhip leans away. "What's wrong?"
"Just thinking," fWhip says. Turns his face to hide in his pillow. "got- got a little lost."
Pixl hums. fWhip has confessed to him time and time again that his brain never seems to settle- constantly leaping between potential blueprints, things to eat, things to do, plans old and new. He's a constant string of words when he gets going, excitedly rambling about all the things he's working on, all of the things he's interested in- Pixl is happy to talk to him.
But having an overactive mind has its downsides, too. fWhip admitted, once, that his brain always seems to cling to everything he desperately wants to forget, and in moments of quiet, of safety, those things he wants to forget sneak up on him and cling to the walls of his mind like honey to the walls of a hive-
The kid swallows, pushing the blankets off and sitting up, shaking all the while.
"C-can I have a hug?" he asks, not making eye contact, "Please?"
"Of course."
Pixl scoots his chair over, close enough that neither of them have to stand, and pulls fWhip into his arms. The kid practically melts against him, inhaling sharply as if he was about to cry, and looping his arms around Pixl's neck.
"Thanks," he murmurs.
"I've got you," Pixl answers, rubbing a hand up and down his back. "I've got you."
#ADHD COUNT FWHIP REAL !!!!! < IM RIGHT !!!!!!!!#my fics include less and less regression i should stop posting on this blog head in hands. regression blog who??? im lying to you all /sill#this isn't what i wanted to write but i'm sitting here. and my brain works like that. so <3 projecting yippee ! <3 <3#fwhip tag#pixl tag#froggy drabbles
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Someone asked if people leave critical comments on fanfiction, and my dumbass thought they meant critical as in “life or death.”
I was very confused and intrigued by this new subgenre of comments and the power they hold 😭😭
#froggie rambles#fanfiction#fanfic#a03 fic#ao3 etiquette#comments#ao3 comments#critical comments#my one braincell is fighting for her life
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