JAX:

From a FunnyBunny canon divergence after episode 6, featuring a nightmare and partial abstraction.

Static forms a radius around Ribbit’s body, flickering in the surrounding air like the glittering of light on water. Jax can’t take his eyes off of his friend; he can hardly stand to breathe, weighed down as he is by the oppressive atmosphere. Horror filters through the dread and confusion, leaving only the wetness of his eyes that he refuses to acknowledge. “We can talk through this,” Jax says, gulping down oxygen like it's water, his mind buzzing with encroaching dissociation. ‘This can’t be happening,’ Jax thinks, unable to look away, uncertain of what would happen if he did. ‘I can’t lose Ribbit.’

The static around Ribbit begins to glitch and flicker, consuming half of his body, which slowly disintegrates in favor of an all-consuming black. Beady, multicolored eyes snap open, each iris a different, vibrant color that stares endlessly into Jax’s soul. His breath catches in the back of his throat, each breath a struggle. Jax takes a step backward as Ribbit steps forward, a fruitless dance where they never get closer. “Ribbit,” he pleads, lifting his hands to show he means no harm, though it’s too late to stop what’s already been said. The fight between them had been as cutthroat as it was tragic. “I’m sorry,” he says as one of Ribbit’s black arms lashes out, wrapping around his throat and cutting off his words.

‘I deserve this,’ Jax thinks, but that doesn’t stop his hands from leaping to Ribbit’s, to try to pry them away. His fingers glitch, and a sharp, electric zap jolts through his throat and palms every few seconds, piercing the fog of his mind, leaving him barely tethered. ‘I did this to him.’ The thought is clouded with grief, and Jax can feel hot, stinging tears leaking down his cheeks. ‘He has every right to hate me.’

Between one blink and the next, Ribbit morphs into Pomni, her body just as riddled with glitching static as the frog had been before her. She moans, the noise pained and rattling out of her —

Jax’s eyes fly open, and he grunts as he topples out of bed and collides hip first onto the floor. ‘Fuck,’ he thinks, pushing himself upright onto his knees. As he sits back on his legs and holds his hand out in front of him, he sees a few stray lines of static beside his palms. They pop and fizzle, the shock leaving a faint stinging in his hands. The sight of it should frighten him, and maybe it does, but more so it is an irritation in the aftermath of his nightmare. There’s an ache in the back of his throat, a knot that is almost impossible to swallow around, and his cheeks and fur are stained with tears.

Rubbing them away furiously and ignoring the spreading static, Jax stands upright and staggers towards the door. His heart is pounding between his ribs hard enough to nauseate him, and dizziness plagues his steps. It’s been nearly a year since he had a nightmare this terrible, and Jax doesn’t know what to do with that, not when it was the fight with Pomni that undoubtedly triggered it. He doesn’t want to think about it; it’s all he can think about. The sight of her big, bicolored eyes staring back at him, void of life, haunts him. Would she abstract because of him too, even despite the way he’d tried to push her away before she could get close, before Jax could do any real damage? ‘It was for her own good,’ he thinks, trying to convince himself it wasn’t due to his own cowardice.

Jax’s door slams into the wall as he throws it open. He doesn’t remember the walk to the bathroom, but he’s suddenly there, his face in the sink. Frigid water splashes against his eyes and cheeks, dripping off his face like tears. It doesn’t help ground him nearly as much as it should. Jax attempts to focus on the temperature shock, but instead his mind drifts back to Ribbit, to the broken expression he’d given Jax when he had scathingly told him that their entire friendship had been a farce, just a big inside joke that Jax hadn’t let him in on yet. Hissing between his teeth, Jax waggles his head as if he could shake loose Pomni’s eyes and Ribbit’s grief. What Jax wouldn’t give to have the foreknowledge of what his fallout with Ribbit would do to all of them.

Dragging his eyes up toward the mirror, Jax studies himself in his reflection. There are bags like bruises beneath his bloodshot eyes, and his fur is limp and rough, a sure sign that he hasn’t been taking care of himself. “Pathetic,” Jax says, sounding as exhausted as he feels. “You disgust me.” His reflection stares balefully back at him, and he can’t help but think of Pomni, of how quick she’d been to become “friends” with him. It’s repulsive, yet Jax wants nothing more than to seek her out. Could he get any worse than this ridiculous push-pull game his brain is playing on him? He’s so desperate for attention, yet can’t help but shy away from even the slightest touch, no matter how good it feels.

Jax has half a mind to beat down Pomni’s door, to beg her forgiveness if it means she keeps him from abstracting. The other half balks at the idea, thinking he might as well succumb and save everyone the trouble. The static covers his whole body now, flickering and hurting his eyes if he stares at it for too long. His fingers are pitch black, but Jax shoves them into his overall pockets as he stomps out of the bathroom and back to the common space between their doors. Pomni’s face supersedes Ribbit’s in his mind eye, staring down her nose at him while he loudly falls apart in front of her door.

There’s a tremor in his hands, and his knees knock together when he stands still for longer than a few moments. His breathing is ragged and frantic, his pupils tiny pinpricks as he hunches forward onto his knees and tries to catch his breath. “Fuck!” Jax mutters beneath his breath, quickly following it up with a louder, “Goddammit!” Tears prick Jax’s eyes again as his mouth waters in anticipation of puking as his nausea reaches its limit. His nostrils flare and vomit pours out of him in a waterfall, splashing to the ground at his feet. It’s disgusting, nearly as bad as throwing up in the real world, but at least he doesn’t have to worry about it burning as it comes out of his nostrils here.

Each step away from the mess makes his shoes splatter in the sick. Jax leaves a trail of footprints as he walks closer to Pomni’s door, entirely coincidentally. His lungs heave as he resists the urge to retch a second time. He’s sick of this, exhausted, and in dire need of sleep, but making his way back to his bedroom sounds like hell when Pomni’s is right there. He needs to get her attention, but he’s loathe to ask for it directly.

“Some of us are trying to sleep!” Zooble shouts suddenly, their voice carrying into the quiet of the hallway. Something hard crashes into his stomach and bounces off it, and when Jax glances down at it, he sees that it’s a miscellaneous spare part of theirs. He doesn’t have the energy to grab it, so instead he kicks it back in their direction and hears it bounce into the wall loudly.

“You’re just mad because I woke up Gangle,” Jax says, batting his eyelashes in Zooble’s direction as though they could see him. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed her disappearing into your room at night.” He can almost imagine the middle finger they’ve probably given him before their door slams shut again.

“Jax? Is everything okay?” Ragatha says sounding as sleepy as she does worried, opening her door to squint and peer into the dark at him. The flickering static bears down on him, larger and more prominent, though thankfully invisible in the near black of the hallway.

“Peachy,” Jax says, throwing his hands upward as though to ask whatever deity might be listening if they could believe this shit. “Now be a good little rag doll and turn tail and run back into your hidey-hole. No one wants to talk to you.” Ordinarily, Jax might play with her more before raking his claws through her, but tonight there’s only one person he wants to talk to.

“Jerk,” Ragatha says, but she doesn’t slam the door shut like Zooble had when she retreats back into her room. It’s just as well, Jax thinks, running a hand up over his head and over his low-hanging ears. He doesn’t know what he might have done had she provoked him. It might have been the final push needed for him to abstract, and he wouldn’t wish that responsibility on anyone, not even Ragatha.

You can find the fic in it's entirety here. Please enjoy if you do read it!