Archive of Our Own

Suddenly buff villager's muscles bulged so hard his sleeves literally popped off like party poppers.

"THAT'S IT—I'M TURNING YOU INTO A BASKETBALL."

"Wait—WHAT?" the villager squeaked, his voice hitting a frequency only dogs and highly stressed birds could hear.

"Watch me!" the buff villager roared. He grabbed the villager by the ankles, flipped him upside down, and rolled him into a perfectly tight, seamless sphere. (Don’t ask me how...) 

"Hey! Let me out! It’s cramped in here and I think I’m sitting on my own forehead!" a muffled voice echoed from inside the human-ball.

"Silence Loser!" The buff villager tucked the newly formed villager-ball under his arm and took him to the basketball court also made the ice cream queue go silent seeing all unfold incidents.

A crowd immediately gathered in court.
"Is that... Will?" a Villager Librarian asked, squinting his eyes even he's already have glasses.

"I am not Will—but hurry help me now!" the 'ball' yelled back.

The buff villager bounced that villager once.

*BOING*

"Ouch! My liver!" Definitely not—Will cried.

"Wow, great dribble retention" the Villager blacksmith noted, nodding in approval.

"Good grip too. But first, what actually happened? Why did he end up like this?"

Hearing someone ask, Buff stopped and turned around, letting out a sigh. "He spilled vanilla ice cream on my brand-new, limited-edition silk tunic" the buff villager explained, his face still the color of a ripe tomato.

"He must pay. By being crossed over."

The buff villager drove toward an improvised hoop mounted on a wooden windmill. He did a flashy behind-the-back dribble.

"Please stop, I really don't meant it!" Not—Will screamed as the world spun.

With a mighty leap, the buff villager soared into the air, performing a 360-degree, wind-mill slam dunk that shattered the backboard into splinters. The crowd went absolutely wild.

Bob flew through the net and landed on the grass, instantly popping back into his normal human shape. He sat there, dizzy, with cartoon stars circling his head.

"Okay... o—okay... I apologize for the outfit!! But for the record, your defense was terrible. You completely left the paint wide open."

The buff villager blinked, looked at the shattered hoop and then at his ruined outfit.

"You know what? You're right. Let's do it again. Next point wins!"

"Wait, NO—"

From the car, Grox surveyed the scene outside some chaos that unfolding in his kingdom was— to him—perfectly normal. He could have simply remained inside his vehicle, but boredom had driven him to step out.

The moment his bodyguard opened the door, a wave of scorching heat hit him, his translucent skin began to blister almost instantly—an annoyance he found particularly irksome, given his reluctance to use a command block solely for his complexion, even though maintaining a flawless form was mandatory.

"Ayo—Can't y'all see the sun trying to touch me? Protect me, quickly!" Grox’s command snapped his previously motionless bodyguards into action, they scrambled to unfurl umbrellas and shield their boss.

"Sorry, Boss—we almost forgot for a moment there" The bodyguards stepped out and surrounded Grox with their umbrellas, while his private car drove off, ready to return only when summoned. In truth, this dictator rarely strolled through his own civilization now—he was usually too busy or simply saw no reason to leave his castle—but this time, he had a personal motive.

If Grox recalled correctly, this was Froggy’s free time. His intelligence network revealed had reported that Froggy was out taking that 'adopted stupid child' of his to buy ice cream, just as promised.

Grox knew exactly where they would be, considering he was the one who had placed that ice cream truck there in the first place—his only reason being to draw Froggy out, there was really have no other motive (sure 👀...) 

And just as he suspected, Froggy was there with that annoying baby villager—the exact brat Grox hated more than anything else in the world. They were sitting on a bench. Froggy was holding two chocolate ice creams, while that little rascal happily ate his own and kept talking non-stop to the frog-man.

"Daddy!! I finally got chocolate ice cream! I'm so happy!!" the kid screamed in a piercing voice—loud enough to pop Grox's eardrums (even though he didn't actually have any).

As for the baby, he has known since last 67 hours that Froggy adopted him— because of some recovered memories from his past, he isn't sure why he suddenly knew this, but those memories provided a wealth of important information regarding Froggy that appears to be true.

Realizing the moment was at hand, Grox ordered his bodyguard to go away. The bodyguard wanted to say no, but nobody argues with a tyrant. Grox hid behind a tree, waiting for the spiked ice cream to do it's job.

The baby villager kept talking, while Froggy swallowed his own ice cream in one giant gulp—damn it, he didn't even lick it the Wither Skeleton thought, judging him deeply. Who swallows an ice cream whole? Gross

"You know Daddy! actually..."

Suddenly, a loud—terrifying rumbling sound came from the kid's stomach. It sounded like a thunderstorm trapped inside a broken washing machine. The baby villager twisted in pain, his eyes popping out like marbles.

"Uh-oh" the baby whispered and the ice cream wasn't fun anymore.

Unable to hold it in, the kid sprinted toward the public restroom like a rocket.

"Wait, Ba—I mean, wait, completely random child that I don't know!" Froggy yelled, panicking because he just saw Grox’s shadow nearby.

As Froggy stood up to chase baby, Grox stepped out from behind the tree with a dramatic swing of his arms and smiled a fake, spooky—scary skeleton smile.

"Froggy! My favorite villager! What a surprise. What are you doing here all by yourself?" Grox asked, looking around like he hadn't seen a thing.

Froggy blinked, his heart pounding. He looked at the Wither Skeleton with pure horror in their eyes and let out a sweaty, fake laugh.

"Oh—Lord Grox! Hey... Fancy meeting you here in the... uh... beautiful park!" Froggy stammered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "By myself? Yes! Totally alone. Just me and my thoughts."

"Awesome!" Grox clapped his bony hands together, stepping right into the middle of the path, totally blocking the path "Because I always say, Froggy, thank goodness you don't have kids. Can you imagine? Especially that annoying baby villager... If I ever found out someone adopted one of those brats, I would throw them out of town and burn their house down!"

Froggy’s face turned completely pale. "Ha... haha... yeah. Kids. Gross. So glad I’m single with—zero children."

Froggy noticed a bead of sweat on the creature's forehead. This made him look at the ice cream in his hand, which was starting to melt in the sunlight... and suddenly, a crazy idea popped into his head.

"Lord Grox" Froggy said, his voice much lower than usual—a shift that made Grox stop in his tracks. "Umm, I... I’ve got some business to attend to. I think I bought too much ice cream, why don't you take one?" The green hand extended a nearly melted ice cream toward the dictator.

"Yeah, just consider it temporary compensation cuz now i have to leave immediately."

The dictator looked puzzled, this wasn't what he had expected... Wait, I just remembered—the drugged ice cream was only for Baby's, not Froggy Grox thought to himself, though he remained confused as to why Froggy was handing over his own ice cream instead. "Uh—sure, but—"

From far—far away restroom, the deep voice echoed across the whole park: "DADDY!! THE TOILET IS EXPLODING!! AND THERE'S NO TOILET PAPER!!"

Hearing that made the look of terror on Froggy's face even more apparent—he was terrified that Grox might find out. "I have to go right away... Lord Grox, I... um... need to use the restroom—I can't hold it." He immediately ran off, calling out "See you tomorrow, Lord Grox!"

The sound of Froggy’s voice faded into the distance, signaling that he had left Grox’s presence. Yet, Grox remained there, frozen.

The ice cream in his hand was nearly melted, heavy white drops dripping onto his shoes, but his brain had completely lost the ability to control his hands. He suddenly felt a terrifying, suffocating warmth on his cheeks, and his heart was pounding so hard against his ribs that he could hear it in his ears.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Am I dying? Grox thought, his eyes wide with genuine panic. Is this a stroke? A cardiac arrest? Oh god, I’m having an allergic reaction. But I’m not allergic to vanilla. Did he lace it? Did Froggy just poison me?

He gripped the melting cone tighter, his mind spinning into overdrive. He had spent his entire life studying logic, strategy, and formulas to beat Froggy. He understood gravity, science, and advanced calculus. But he did not understand why his lungs suddenly felt too small for his chest just because Froggy had smiled at him.

Think, Grox—think, he told himself, desperately trying to analyze his symptoms like a scientist. Symptom one: elevated heart rate. Symptom two: facial flushing. Symptom three: a bizarre, aching emptiness in the stomach now that he’s gone. This is a medical emergency! I need a hospital... No, I need a quarantine.

He looked down at the street where Froggy had just walked away. In his mind, he imagined that frog-man carrying out the next part of the conversation like... His smile was truly captivating he also laughed—not his usual mocking, competitive laugh, but a soft, breathless sound—and pushed the ice cream into Grox’s hand, murmuring "Cuz you look like you're about to melt out here, Grox. Eat up."

Grox touched his burning cheek with his free, sticky hand. It was scorching hot.

Why did he look so bright? Grox’s internal monologue scrambled, his panic morphing into a strange, overwhelming helplessness. The sun was behind him, but it felt like the light was coming from him. That doesn't make sense. Wither skeletons do not emit light. Why can't I breathe normally? What kind of weapon did he use on me?

He stood alone on the pavement, completely defeated not by a strategy, but by a completely unknown anomaly. He didn't know that the word for it was 'love' He just knew that whatever Froggy had done to his chest, it was irreversible, and he was absolutely terrified.

•••

He didn't recall the details of the journey that followed, but one thing remained vivid: the pounding of his heart whenever his subordinates mentioned the name 'FroggyDude'

"Lord Grox, regarding this FroggyDude matter—somehow, he’s convinced villagers in the outlying settlements to rebel, what should we—" A black-gloved hand abruptly clamped over his assistant's mouth, silencing him mid-sentence. The assistant was momentarily confused, but a glance at the dictator revealed that something about him had changed.

"Ahem... Alright Bet! But then let's continue this later, I'm exhausted from today's hectic schedule." He forced a smile. Sensing the danger—and having no desire to die—the assistant quickly took his leave, abandoning the dictator alone in the silent corridor.

A loud sigh escaped his lips as he clutched his head, throbbing from the mental strain of his bizarre thoughts.

"Damn it... I’m going to have to make Froggy pay for this later."

. 

. 

. 

"Bro, you're in love... with Froggy."

Those words snapped Grox out of his reverie. His eyeless gaze blinked in absolute shock at the person standing before him.

"Nah, man" the Wither deflected quickly, his three heads turning slightly as he dismissed the idea that he could possibly feel love for his own rival. "I think Froggy is just using his secret power... It’s a psychological tactic."

"Dude, tell me this then!" SeaWatt groaned while holding his head "If Froggy were using that power to destroy you, wouldn't it be easier for him to just kill you? Like, immediately—With a missiles!"

Grox narrowed his eyes further, still refusing to accept the nonsense his counterpart was spouting. "SeaWatt, I’m talking to you because I consider you a brilliant strategist—a mastermind capable of controlling entire layers of this world," the Wither Skeleton said, turning away with a cold, disappointed look. He paused, adding with a sharp sneer

"But I didn't think you were even stupider... I guess you've been spending way too much time around Evbo."

"DAMMIT, GROX! YOU'D BETTER SHUT UP—YOU KNOW HOW LONG I'VE BEEN LOCKED UP HERE, DON'T YOU?!" SeaWatt's face instantly turned a violent tomato-red—whether from pure, unadulterated rage, crippling embarrassment, or perhaps some secrets evil behind curtain number three

"ALSO—AT LEAST I'M NOT CLUELESS LIKE YOU, AM I?!" SeaWatt shrieked, his voice sharp with frustration. He violently rattled the iron bars, the metallic clanging echoing off the massive obsidian prison walls. Inside the cramped cell, the only luxury was a single, dusty air vent and the heavy-duty security bars mandated by the dictator.

"Whoa, chill! Why are you acting so OOC, buddy? But no—I'm not clueless, bro!" Grox fired back with a smug, mocking laugh, refusing to take the insults lying down. "You're just projecting your own failures because you got outsmarted and locked behind bars. I’m out here executing plans, while you're stuck rotting in a cage!"

"Outsmarted?! I am a Master of Escape room! A visionary!" SeaWatt gripped the bars tighter, his eyes flashing with bitterness. "The only reason I am in here is because of betrayal, not because your pathetic strategies are any better! You talk big for someone who constantly underestimates everyone around him."

"Keep telling yourself that to sleep better at night" Grox scoffed, stepping closer to the cell with a condescending glare. "But the reality is sitting right in front of me. You're trapped, powerless, and completely irrelevant to the current state of the Civilization."

Meanwhile, amidst this heated, bitter verbal sparring, the prison guards standing down the corridor could only sigh and shake their heads in pure exasperation, entirely used to the constant bickering between the disgraced two players.

Grox let out a slow, deliberate breath, his expression shifting from active annoyance to pure indifference as he realized he was wasting his breath on a caged animal.

"...You know—after all, what is the point of me keeping this conversation up with you?"

Reaching into his pocket, Grox pulled out a comb that had somehow been resting in his inventory all along. With slow, meticulous movements, he began straightening his hair, entirely unfazed by the bleak prison atmosphere. Once finished, he tucked it away and fixed a sharp, piercing glare on the turtle-man(?).

"You stole my girlfriend..." Grox muttered, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet level.

Then, pivoting on the heels of his ridiculously expensive shoes, Grox began to walk away toward the heavy exit gate. His gaze turned deeply cynical once again—mockery practically written across his forehead in bold letters. Without turning back, he threw one last parting shot over his shoulder.

"...But you still fell for that stupid 'protagonist'... Well, go ahead and waste your time here."

"WAIT, WHAT—!"

SeaWatt’s desperate shout seemed to vanish into thin air, violently cut short as the massive iron door slammed shut with a deafening thud, leaving him alone in the dark.

•••

That night was unlike any other. Grox was still wide awake, even though he was wearing his favorite pajamas—the ones that usually put him to sleep in mere seconds. He had been staring fixedly at the ceiling without blinking... He began talking to himself "Oh no, what’s happening to me?" Meanwhile, another voice chimed in "Alright bet! Because of this, we have to kill that frog as soon as possible!"

"Kill a frog? That frog?!" Grox snapped back at his own thoughts, his voice sounding a bit too loud in the dead silence of his room. He bolted upright and sat on the edge of the bed. His favorite pajamas, which usually felt as soft as a cloud, suddenly felt itchy and suffocating.

The second voice in his head replied with a casual, nonchalant tone, as if discussing food options "The green frog that give us ice cream, obviously. Bet you anything it's a disguised witch who cursed you with insomnia tonight. Come on, grab the ak-47 already!"

"That makes absolutely no sense!" Grox clutched his hair in sheer frustration. "I'm not awake because of a frog curse, I'm awake because... because..." Grox trailed off. He tried to pinpoint exactly what was triggering his anxiety, but his brain felt completely empty yet incredibly noisy at the same time.

The wall clock ticked heavy and slow, reading 2:15 AM.

Grox tried to lie back down. He pulled the blanket up to his chin, squeezed his eyes shut, and began counting sheep.

One sheep, two sheep, three sheep...

"...four frogs, five frogs, and in the bright future we will marry him!" the another new voice interrupted.

Grox snapped his eyes open. Pure frustration surged through his body. "Stop it! I just want to sleep!" he whispered, his breath shallow.

The confusion was overwhelming, he felt like he was arguing with a physical enemy, yet the room was completely empty. He began to question his own sanity. Did Froggy really poison him? Or did Froggy reveal proof of his secret power to him?

Seconds bled into minutes, and minutes crawled into hours. Grox was trapped in a exhausting cycle of mental warfare—desperately trying to find a logical reason for his sudden insomnia, while the mysterious voice kept fueling an absurd plot against FroggyDude

By the time Grox looked toward the window, the pitch-black sky was slowly fading into a pale, ash-blue. Early morning birds began to chirp outside. The clock on his nightstand now read 5:30 AM.

The morning sun began to peek through the blinds, casting a warm light over Grox, who was now slumped helplessly in the corner of his bed. His eyes were bloodshot, heavy bags weighed down his lower lids, and his head felt as heavy as a boulder. His favorite pajamas were completely wrinkled.

The 'tomorrow' he had been dreading had finally arrived, and he hadn't blinked for a single second of sleep. Staring at his miserable reflection in the wardrobe mirror, he muttered under his breath, "Good morning to my losing sanity..."

. 

. 

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN GROX IS GIVING ME WITH HIGHER TAXES?!"

The frog's furious voice boomed like thunder across the entire kingdom, echoing off the Civilization walls. As the burning rage surged through his veins, his face visibly shifted, turning from its natural vibrant green to a flushed, deeply embarrassed reddish hue. He trembled with pure disbelief.

The bodyguards, however, remained completely indifferent to his outburst. They stood like cold statues, once they were certain that their boss's 'official decree' had been successfully delivered, they simply turned around on their heels and marched back to the castle without saying a word.

Froggy watched in stunned silence as the official parchment paper he had just been handed slipped from his webbed fingers, fluttering dramatically through the air before hitting the stone ground. Then, he burst into a melodramatic, completely over-the-top, soap-opera-style wail, burying his face in his hands.

"That's it! I'm absolutely done! I'm going to the Cookie God's kingdom!" he declared at the top of his lungs. Summoning every ounce of his frustration, he bent down, crumpled the tax paper into a tight ball, and hurled it with all his might at the backs of the bodyguards, who were already walking away into the distance without looking back.

Determined to escape this financial nightmare, Froggy packed his bags and set off across the cosmos. He traveled far beyond the borders of his own world, driven by sheer spite, until he finally reached the edge of an entirely new dimension.

"HEY, BUCKO!" he shouted as froggy already gone into the portal.

"Hmm... so you're FroggyDude, aren't you?"

A Cookie stood right before him. Unbelievably, Froggy had actually made it all the way to the fabled Cookie Kingdom. He was now taking a moment to breathe and relax, standing face-to-face with a literal king here sit with him—who just happened to be passing by the area.

"Ehh—relax, I'm not going to shoot you right away..." The Cookie God raised his hands openly into the air, showing his palms to prove that he was hiding absolutely no weapons or malice. "I did what I did back then because, the Grox civilization was heavily collaborating with our cookie planet... I deeply regret my actions."

The Cookie's words sounded so deeply sincere and heavy with genuine remorse that Froggy found himself letting his guard down, fully accepting the apology.

"Okay, fine—just don't do it again" Froggy replied, his voice softening.

Immediately, the entire atmosphere around them grew incredibly calm. A Cookie God looked down at the frog, a thoughtful expression crossing his baked features. "I've always wondered why the Grox treated you that way..." he murmured softly.

He paused, looking out toward the horizon, before adding under his breath, "...now I understand..."

Froggy raised a skeptical eyebrow, completely puzzled by the remark. "What do you mean by that?"

"Ahaha, it's nothing." The Cookie God chuckled lightly, brushing the question aside. He looked back down at the frog and a sudden—curious question crossed his mind "What do you think Grox are?... Froggy"

Froggy stared out into the distance, his eyes turning serious as the weight of something caught up to him. "He is... everything" he answered quietly.