Chapter Text
Vacant eyes never leaving the dark ceiling, Ribbit shifts in the bed. Her room is dark- the way she likes it lately. It gives her the proper environment to think.
And think.
And think.
That’s all she’s done these past three days, actually. The adventures she went on? A blur. The conversations she’d had? A flash.
That’s all she wants to do: just lie down and let her thoughts run free. Some she doesn’t want…
Most she shouldn’t want, but does.
And no matter how hard she tries, she just can’t push them away. Her mind is like a camera, her thoughts like polaroids. No editing. No deletion.
Just printing pictures with no breaks, capturing everything.
Pictures…
She just wants her pictures.
She stumbles to her green feet and over to her dresser. On top sits her camera.
Oh, her beloved camera. A friend that helped her store memories she wanted to remember. Now, it only forces her to recall what she wishes she could forget.
The device sits loyally on top of the cabinet, even though it hasn’t been touched in three days now- a record distance between her and the object.
Although she knows it’s silly, she silently apologizes to her camera for the strain and picks it up. Sliding the strap over her head, however, she knows she has no intention of taking any more photos.
She’s got all she needs. Her collection has reached its max.
Her heart urges her to scoop the few dozen neatly stacked photos into a nearby basket and carry them over to her bed. Fingers slide her camera off her shoulder and leaves it on a pillow. She picks up a few frames and thumbs through them. The light from her horsefly nightlight is just bright enough for her to see the photos’ contents.
Pictures of Gangle and Zooble, holding up a huge fish they had caught. Bunny Boy’s catch was twice as big that adventure.
Pictures of Ragatha and Kaufmo bouncing on the moon, the lack of gravity making the best friends twist and flip....well, until Mr. Showoff came whooshing up and did a record-breaking five-flip somersault. Stupid long legs.
Pictures of an oblivious, thumbs-up Kinger getting pelted with paintballs by someone not pictured. Chill, Rambo Rabbit! You’ll give the poor old man a heart attack!
Pictures of Jax masterfully creating a mosaic picture, a smug smirk on his face. Curse that artistic talent of his.
Pictures of Jax gagging at the mystery “piña colada” (or whatever it was) Bubble had served during that beach adventure. Sums up everyone’s take on the drink perfectly.
Pictures of Jax leaning against their award-winning snowman, Baron Toasty McFrostyton III. Fix the top hat, moron. It’s a bit askew.
Pictures of Jax…
Pictures of Jax…
Pictures of…
Them. Loads of pictures of them.
Laughing. Smiling. Shooting flirtatious looks the others way. Trying to choke down nasty drinks. Fishing and defying gravity and shooting paintballs and making art and-
Oh. I got a picture of them kissing? I… didn’t realize that.
A set of fingers picks up another photo.
It’s of them, putting together a blanket fort. The two of them starting to get comfortable.
Her heart starts to pound as her eyes scan the collection. Then the returning ache strikes as she picks up the photo she’d been searching for.
The only photo that matters now. The best one she’d ever taken. The one she’s been obsessed with these past three days.
The last picture she swears she’d ever take.
She holds the polaroid as if it were glass, rashly pushing the others on her bed away. Reclining, her large eyes take in the photo, the low light only making it haunt her more.
Jax and Ragatha cuddled by the fire. Peacefully sleeping, not a care in the world.
Her heart takes over her fingers. The most selfless parts of her hate it…
But a hesitate thumb slides over until Ragatha is blocked from view.
No! What is wrong with you?! You love Ragatha! She’s like a sister! And you love Jax-
Oh… oh, how you love Jax.
Ribbit finds her eyes blinking repeatedly. Tears start to form.
She knows she can’t control how they feel about each other any more than she can control how she feels about Jax. But always being on the outside looking in is an ache that is unbearable.
So is the fact that Jax is no longer a best friend.
Just a muse.
And she is no longer a best friend.
Just a photographer.
Her eye twitches, her thumb taking control as it pushes down on the photo a little harder. She finds it satisfying that now all that’s left inside the frame is her sleeping muse.
It is not satisfying that all that’s left outside the frame are the teardrops and a trembling thumb.
She slowly turns her head resting against a pillow. Her eyes stare at her camera, feeling numb as it reflects her face off the lens.
She doesn’t move. It’s like she can’t; the face reflecting back at her mixing with the silence has seemed to paralyze her.
Especially when she realizes she hasn’t just lost her muse. She hasn’t just lost her friendship with her three closest friends, even.
She’s lost herself.
She’s reduced herself to being an observer in her own life. Never participating due to fear.
Making her not a photographer…
But the camera itself.
Forced to capture others’ moments. Made to collect others’ memories and trap them into white borders. Created to frame others in the best light possible.
Just a digital polaroid camera running low on ink.
...And slowly, one by one, the mental photo albums stop printing in her mind’s eye.
Adventures in the past? A blur. Wacky side quests Caine had the performers go on? Fragmented.
The fishing adventure. The space adventure. The arcade adventure. The art adventure. The beach adventure.
Even the cabin adventure.
All but gone…
And slowly, one by one, individual mental photos start to delete.
Faces? Unfamiliar. Friendships with who? Not these strangers.
Who is that chess-piece man? That block-toy? That red string girl?
Who’s that clown that keeps popping up?
Who is that doll woman…
And who is that handsome rabbit?
The lack of recognition is enough for her to subconsciously ache, but not enough to frighten her. It doesn’t move her to sit up and look through the printed photos to ground herself. It doesn’t move her to venture out of her room and reintroduce herself to the strange characters popping up in her mind’s eye.
She is frozen cold- but not from fear. A strange warmness engulfs her, calming and silencing any part of her mind wanting to answer her now.
All at once, a faint rumbling starts echoing around the room. It’s more comforting than eerie as it vibrates off the walls.
Finally, she turns her head and faces the wall on the farthest left side of her room…
And a dark heart shape starts to cut into the corner.
She stares wide-eyed as the rumbling stops and the heart gradually grows larger and larger. It seems to be some sort of portal.
Suddenly, purple hands start to pop out on the sides of the heart. They crawl like spiders around the shape, an creepy scuttling sound filling her ears.
Eyes stay locked on the hands until arms appear…
And start reaching for her.
Ribbit feels her chest start to heave gently as the hands draw closer and closer. A set of purple fingers stretches toward her, silently begging her to do the same.
Her eyes feeling larger than ever, she lifts her arm. She hesitates only for a moment, then slowly starts to reach out.
Her hand and the purple one slowly inch toward each other. At some point, she becomes aware of an odd sensation: a feeling she can only describe as her hand breaking the surface of water. A soft static noise is heard, but she pays it no mind.
Fingers stretch just that much farther, until finally, they touch-
ZAP!
A blast of electricity zips through her entire body…
And she’s transcended into an explosion of color.
Every shade found in the rainbow and beyond flashes in calming, voltaic waves. Different shapes of all sizes morph and shift around her in a pattern mirroring a pulsating kaleidoscope. The detail in every shape, every color, every texture is nothing short of incredible.
Her ears take in the sound of pleasant, peaceful music. An acoustic guitar and flute mix together to form the most beautiful notes she has ever heard.
And she’s floating.
Moving forward, backward, diagonal- she doesn’t know. All she knows is she’s moving.
And that she feels the best she has ever felt in her life.
The sharp colors. The easy music. The sensation of floating through time and space. It’s all so mesmerizing. All so freeing.
She blinks. Blinks again.
The colors are shifting again. The shapes morphing…
And repetitive, cartoon facial outlines start to appear.
A ragdoll’s face.
A clown’s face.
A rabbit’s face.
And the face of a frog.
They all flash in contrasting colors, their molds twisting and turning. Ribbit can’t see much detail of these outlines, but she can see that every single one of them has a wide smile.
The happy faces roll by her, the color-shifting masses they’re in billowing like majestic clouds. This seems to carry her further.
And a stairwell starts to form before her.
At the very top stands-
Oh! Ragatha! And Kaufmo!
There were two of her closest friends, smiling at her. They wave their hands forward, encouraging her to venture deeper to this strange yet wonderful place.
...But her eyes shift toward the bottom of the stairs.
Because there stands Jax.
Oh, her beloved Jax.
He’s smirking, just like always. His eyes smiling at her…
With the same look in them that he always saved for Ragatha.
Ribbit blinks slowly, eyes fixated on him. He takes a step toward her and extends his hand. She can hear his voice start to speak through the calming music.
“No matter what happens…”
The frog woman feels her eyes slowly shut, a smile appearing on her face.
With no hesitation, she reaches out and grabs his hand tightly. And instantly, she feels the most found she has ever felt.
“…Everything will be okay.”