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fandomweekly2020-09-12 10:04 am
itstheblob) wrote in fandomweekly2020-09-12 10:04 am
Entry tags:
[#066] FROG (DON'T STARVE TOGETHER)
Theme Prompt: Gathering Clouds
Title: Frog
Fandom: Don't Starve Together by Klei Entertainment
Rating/Warnings: PG / some violence to video game frog monsters
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 940
Summary: Wilson doesn't notice it's about to rain frogs until it starts to rain frogs
The frog blinked its milky white eyes.
Wilson sat bolt upright. A second ago he'd been looking at a flower and now he was looking at a frog- why was there a frog?
He got to his feet and backed up- the frogs were territorial, and shouldn't be messed with. In fact, it was a little bit of a misnomer to call 'em frogs, maybe, since they were as big as his head and mean as boars- anyhow, he must have strayed too close to the ponds while looking at the flowers. Not his usual area of interest, but their oddly calming scent could be useful and was worth a little more study...
Something cold pelted down on his head. A raindrop. He glanced upwards- it had been sunny the last time he'd noted anything about his surroundings but now a sooty dark grey sky loomed overhead. And floating down from it, almost lazily, its stubby legs spread out- another frog.
He pivoted on one leg and started sprinting away, even though his mind hadn't quite caught up yet- a scientist's mind was a big old powerful thing, you know, like a bulldozer; it took a mind like that a moment or two to get started rolling, that was all. He'd made it quite some distance before he realized he didn't know where he was going.
A frog rain. They'd keep falling for possibly hours, and they'd decide that any spot they landed on was their territory real quick.
The trap field was on the other side of the island. This time of year the beefalo herds got pretty aggressive, they'd take care of the frogs, which were hitting the ground all around now with meaty thuds (and yet the dratted things never seemed to break their dratted legs on impact) - but they were quite far away from here and Wilson didn't have a piece of pelt or anything to disguise his scent. Without that, the beefalo would take care of him too- drat! If only he'd noticed that it was getting overcast...
Lighting flashed just then, and cast up a clear silhouette just ahead- a small figure sitting on a rock. Wilson's eyes weren't quite so sharp as he'd like anymore, and the rain drops hammering his head and arms and back had also made a hazy curtain between him and anything more than a foot away- but it appeared to be Wendy. Too small for any of the adults, and too pig-tailed to be Webber.
She was going to get pulverised by frogs if she just sat there. He turned in her direction. "Wendy!" As he spoke a clap of thunder drowned out the word- he called again, sounding faintly desperate to himself.
She turned impassionate eyes to him as he approached. "Yes..."
A glowing shape floated near her. Wilson looked away from it. "Wendy, it's raining frogs."
"Yes, so it is."
"You're going to get splatted." He was going to tell her to come down from the rock and join him on his way to safety, but as he didn't just yet know where safety was gonna be, he hesitated.
Wendy stayed utterly motionless, her face blank underneath a cute tiny rain hat. Wilson had considered bringing a rain hat with him that morning and discarded it because hats messed up his hair. He was regretting this decision now.
"Abigail will help me," said Wendy, just as he was begining to think she hadn't heard him at all.
Abigail, eh? Wilson glanced at the shape that hung in the air near Wendy. Yes, alright, it looked like a spectral version of Wendy, but scientifically, it had to be an optical illusion, even Ms. Wickerbottom said so. Ghost twins were not real, and a frog rain was nothing to play with. "Of course! You'd better come with me anyway."
"There's no need. I like to sit on this rock- it's cold and harsh, like me."
"Very funny, now come on-" he started to say, and then a blow hit him between the shoulderblades- he pitched forward, the ground slammed up into his face. Wet, cold, slimy grass.
The frog that had landed on him struck the back of his head with its tongue and his skull bounced on the ground. Fuzzy fireworks appeared in his field of vision.
The weight of the frog was gone as suddenly as it had dropped. So sudden. Had he passed out? He was in a puddle- felt like he was drowning.
Wilson rolled over, gasping for air. Something red was swirling through the curtains of rain, a small moving tornado surrounded by frogs, frogs that collapsed with a squelch almost as soon as they approached.
Wendy's face was blank. "Good job, Abigail."
A bloody trail of dead frogs spun out behind Abigail, marking the direction she'd floated across the meadow.
Wilson was sitting propped up with one hand on the ground, and by his hand was a flower of a type he didn't recognize. Had he been looking at one of those a minute ago? Had he thought that was important? In a world where monster frogs fell from the sky and got killed by a ghost? He thought he needed to care about flowers? Oh, Abigail was real alright! Just look at her go!
"We'll have frog legs for dinner," said Wendy. Her sister still spun in the air like a little vortex of froggy death. A vortex that wore a ghostly flower in her hair.
Wilson laughed, a crackling unpleasant sound that caused Wendy to shoot him a look of mild rebuke. "Of course," he said. "Why not?"
Title: Frog
Fandom: Don't Starve Together by Klei Entertainment
Rating/Warnings: PG / some violence to video game frog monsters
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 940
Summary: Wilson doesn't notice it's about to rain frogs until it starts to rain frogs
The frog blinked its milky white eyes.
Wilson sat bolt upright. A second ago he'd been looking at a flower and now he was looking at a frog- why was there a frog?
He got to his feet and backed up- the frogs were territorial, and shouldn't be messed with. In fact, it was a little bit of a misnomer to call 'em frogs, maybe, since they were as big as his head and mean as boars- anyhow, he must have strayed too close to the ponds while looking at the flowers. Not his usual area of interest, but their oddly calming scent could be useful and was worth a little more study...
Something cold pelted down on his head. A raindrop. He glanced upwards- it had been sunny the last time he'd noted anything about his surroundings but now a sooty dark grey sky loomed overhead. And floating down from it, almost lazily, its stubby legs spread out- another frog.
He pivoted on one leg and started sprinting away, even though his mind hadn't quite caught up yet- a scientist's mind was a big old powerful thing, you know, like a bulldozer; it took a mind like that a moment or two to get started rolling, that was all. He'd made it quite some distance before he realized he didn't know where he was going.
A frog rain. They'd keep falling for possibly hours, and they'd decide that any spot they landed on was their territory real quick.
The trap field was on the other side of the island. This time of year the beefalo herds got pretty aggressive, they'd take care of the frogs, which were hitting the ground all around now with meaty thuds (and yet the dratted things never seemed to break their dratted legs on impact) - but they were quite far away from here and Wilson didn't have a piece of pelt or anything to disguise his scent. Without that, the beefalo would take care of him too- drat! If only he'd noticed that it was getting overcast...
Lighting flashed just then, and cast up a clear silhouette just ahead- a small figure sitting on a rock. Wilson's eyes weren't quite so sharp as he'd like anymore, and the rain drops hammering his head and arms and back had also made a hazy curtain between him and anything more than a foot away- but it appeared to be Wendy. Too small for any of the adults, and too pig-tailed to be Webber.
She was going to get pulverised by frogs if she just sat there. He turned in her direction. "Wendy!" As he spoke a clap of thunder drowned out the word- he called again, sounding faintly desperate to himself.
She turned impassionate eyes to him as he approached. "Yes..."
A glowing shape floated near her. Wilson looked away from it. "Wendy, it's raining frogs."
"Yes, so it is."
"You're going to get splatted." He was going to tell her to come down from the rock and join him on his way to safety, but as he didn't just yet know where safety was gonna be, he hesitated.
Wendy stayed utterly motionless, her face blank underneath a cute tiny rain hat. Wilson had considered bringing a rain hat with him that morning and discarded it because hats messed up his hair. He was regretting this decision now.
"Abigail will help me," said Wendy, just as he was begining to think she hadn't heard him at all.
Abigail, eh? Wilson glanced at the shape that hung in the air near Wendy. Yes, alright, it looked like a spectral version of Wendy, but scientifically, it had to be an optical illusion, even Ms. Wickerbottom said so. Ghost twins were not real, and a frog rain was nothing to play with. "Of course! You'd better come with me anyway."
"There's no need. I like to sit on this rock- it's cold and harsh, like me."
"Very funny, now come on-" he started to say, and then a blow hit him between the shoulderblades- he pitched forward, the ground slammed up into his face. Wet, cold, slimy grass.
The frog that had landed on him struck the back of his head with its tongue and his skull bounced on the ground. Fuzzy fireworks appeared in his field of vision.
The weight of the frog was gone as suddenly as it had dropped. So sudden. Had he passed out? He was in a puddle- felt like he was drowning.
Wilson rolled over, gasping for air. Something red was swirling through the curtains of rain, a small moving tornado surrounded by frogs, frogs that collapsed with a squelch almost as soon as they approached.
Wendy's face was blank. "Good job, Abigail."
A bloody trail of dead frogs spun out behind Abigail, marking the direction she'd floated across the meadow.
Wilson was sitting propped up with one hand on the ground, and by his hand was a flower of a type he didn't recognize. Had he been looking at one of those a minute ago? Had he thought that was important? In a world where monster frogs fell from the sky and got killed by a ghost? He thought he needed to care about flowers? Oh, Abigail was real alright! Just look at her go!
"We'll have frog legs for dinner," said Wendy. Her sister still spun in the air like a little vortex of froggy death. A vortex that wore a ghostly flower in her hair.
Wilson laughed, a crackling unpleasant sound that caused Wendy to shoot him a look of mild rebuke. "Of course," he said. "Why not?"
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