Sporanne Fic

Sporanne fic

Tldr she gets infected by brain eating mushrooms and slowly loses her mind until shes a well-mannered zombie cursed to walk the earth until eaten by a snail or something, unless cured
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Anne was thankful for the Plantars allowing her to sleep in late. She felt more wore down than usual and sleeping in till 10:02 had really helped. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and then instinctively went to check her messages despite a month here in Amphibia, without a signal. Groping past threadbare covers, her hands found a few old socks, but her phone wasn’t in bed, nor had fallen from the nightstand. The sunlight told her that it had been 10 minutes of fruitlessly turning her room upside down, finding all sorts of dust bunnies, or dust… were there bug analogs here in Amphibia? Anne wishes she had read more books on zoology back when she was on Earth, it would have helped her immensely here, but since Hop Pop hadn’t warned her of any terrible rabbit scourges, they probably didn’t exist.

“Wait, dust bunnies aren’t rabbits anyway!” She announces to herself. “And I just cleaned this place yesterday, what’s with all this dust?” Indeed, there was a very thin layer of dust all over, but more worryingly was the small heap on her pillow. “My dandruff hasn’t been that bad in years. Or pink.”

Anne heard someone coming down the stairs and didn’t even need to analyze the air currents to know it was her dear friend Sprig, who had just been about to greet her when his face turned… sour, and he tripped and fell the rest of the flight, somersaulting across the floor and into the bookcase, where a comically long string of increasingly heavy objects proceeded to fall on his head. Luckily, Sprig’s skull was made of a rubber like material, so she hoped that being hit by a 10-pound tome on the history of Barcroak art didn’t hurt him too much.

Nor did the dozen book spines, tea kettle, or clothing iron that she had spent an hour balancing atop a bowling ball. Which also fell on him.

Sighing and brushing some of her thick bushy hair out of her eyes (she hadn’t had time to brush it yet), Anne carried Sprig in her arms up to lay upon the dinner table upstairs, in case he died or something reasonable like that.

“H-hey Anne… did you do something different with your hair?” Sprig croaked out lowly. Injured as he was, he must have been under the impression that Anne had already been up and done her hair, which was silly and probably a bad sign. Luckily, Anne had seen dozens of episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and had received an actual copy of the book when she was 9 which had made her cry and have nightmares of lungs strangling her for years afterwards. “Alright Sprig, if you have a concussion, you should call 911.” Anne began, before remembering that she left her phone in the other room, and left Sprig alone on the table to retrieve it.

“I’ve never guessed time so well; my internal clock and the phone are exactly the same.” She said to the possibly comatose frog as she returned, before slapping her forehead. “Of course, 911 won’t- wait. What’s…”

She touched open her phone, camera reflected back at her, and noticed a small ring of pink mushrooms growing from her hair. Touching them felt, well, weird. Having become used to all sorts of weird, gross swamp things after a month here, Anne pulled –

Anne had once had a charley horse so bad that she cried, and she couldn’t stand right for the rest of the day. This was magnitudes worse, as she spasmed and screamed and screamed and felt her brain being torn. There wasn’t a word that she knew that could accurately describe what she felt then, but the long string of expletives could help this.

“HOOOOAHAHAHHAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

.

.

“holy fuck ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow o- “

“ANNE! Oh Frog, oh Deer Lord! Whuzit, whuwhuwhat’s all this? Anne? What’s with these…mushrooms. Oh no. Oh, and Sprig! He’s… oh, he’s fine. Just another run of the mill concussion fer him. Sprig, Anne, explain yourselves if ya can.”

Sprig, who was blinking away the blurriness, managed to direct his eyes to Hop Pop, who looked worried, and strangely stretched out, but that might have just been the concussion. “Godfrogger. You come to me, upon the day of my daughter’s OOF!”

“Polly, no hitting the concussion victim, even if he was stuck doing Mafia impressions again. Try again, Sprig?”

Sprig hadn’t even seen Polly come in, but he was feeling better, which was surprising since he had just taken a baseball bat to the head. “Mushroom Gorge! We were playing there, near the raceway, I dunno, something happened, and Anne got knocked down into a big mushroom, a big pink and blue one, didn’t recognize it, but Anne basically turned it into dust. Never saw a mushroom like that or shaped like a mandrake root. Anne didn’t seem hurt though, but we called it quits for the day. She went to bed early, remember?” Sprig said excitedly, doing all sorts of suspiciously Italian hand motions, which nearly got him hit again by Polly.

“Well, clearly, we must remove these here mushrooms, just takes one good”

The horrible wailing which had woken up Hop Pop in the first place began again as soon as he had tried, and just as soon stopped when he let go.

“Please. Don’t do that again. Just let me wallow in the shower for a while. Have… have Sprig make soup, Hop Pop, you can’t cook. Find a way to help. Polly, help me up.” Anne said, face to the wonderfully scented wood of the floor, interesting striations noticeable to her now.

“How? I don’t even have legs; I am effectively a beach ball!”

Anne, turning her head with soft pink tears rolling down her face, gave as best an attempt at puppy dog eyes as she could, considering the bloodshot whites and the aforementioned pink tears, which were probably a bad sign.

“Pull me?”

“Pull you? PULL YOU? Fine. I, who weigh a fourth of what you weigh, shall tug you up a flight of stairs to the bathroom. Let me get on that.” Polly spat, and then somehow managed to get Anne upright enough that she could limp on her own to the bathroom.

Luckily, Wartwood had indoor heated plumbing and a thriving soap and shampoo industry, which was strange since frogs were amphibians, but well Sprig had hair, so who the hell knew. Anne was just thankful to lean against the wall once she undressed and got in the hot water.