Chapter 1: Part One
Chapter Text
It had started slowly. Gradual changes that Jax hadn’t noticed. Ribbit had always been quick-witted, someone you could share a laugh with. They constantly brightened his day, distracting Jax from their bleak reality.
He should’ve known better, though. Those who laugh the loudest are often the ones hiding the most pain. Ribbit was no different.
Every smile, every quip, chipped away at Ribbit’s resolve. They’d been in the Circus for years, far longer than Jax had. It wore on them. The endless emptiness, the pointless adventures. All hidden behind a smile—a smile Jax had bought hook, line, and sinker.
His friend used to say, “Don’t take things too seriously, or that chip on your shoulder’s gonna turn into a crack.”
It was basically their life motto. You couldn’t feel bad if you didn’t care. And if there’s one word to sum up Ribbit, it’s flippant, and not just because they’re a frog.
Ribbit constantly poked fun at Caine and his adventures, which helped ease some of Jax’s fear. It was a lot harder to stay scared when someone was cracking jokes in your ear.
But as time went on, those jokes fell flat. Ribbit had a cruel streak, something Jax hadn’t noticed at first. There was a sharp edge to them that, if left unchecked, could come across as mean. It was hard to think of his friend that way, but when Jax looked back on their time together, it was undeniable.
The first time it happened was during an adventure. Caine had tasked them with trekking through a rainforest. Jax couldn’t remember the specifics, but he did remember that he and Ribbit had split from the group.
Ribbit dragged him towards a tree overhanging a deep crevice. They climbed to the top, using the branches to hoist themselves up.
On the highest branch sat a nest filled with brightly coloured eggs of a species he’d never seen before. It must’ve been one of Caine’s digital creations.
“Watch this,” snickered Ribbit.
They picked up one of the eggs and held it above the crevice, planning to drop it.
But before Ribbit could send it tumbling down, Jax grabbed their arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Messing with the NPCs was one thing, but killing them was crossing the line.
Ribbit rolled their eyes. “Don’t be such a [BOINK!]ssy.” When Jax didn’t budge, they changed tactics. “It won’t actually hurt them. Don’t you trust me?”
Jax hesitated. Of course, he trusted Ribbit. They were his best friend.
“If you’re sure…” he trailed off.
Ribbit smirked before dropping the egg. It tumbled down the crevice and burst into a shower of confetti. The coloured paper fluttered harmlessly in the breeze.
Jax stared in horror. Had they just…?
Ribbit nudged him and pointed at the nest. The eggs had respawned as if nothing had happened. Caine must’ve installed a failsafe.
“Oh,” chuckled Jax awkwardly.
He didn’t ask Ribbit how they learnt this; he was too scared of what the answer might be.
It was the first sign that something wasn’t quite right. His friend was slowly losing it, becoming more disillusioned with their reality. If the adventures didn’t matter, and neither did the NPCs, who’s to say that they mattered? That Ribbit, themself, mattered?
Jax should’ve pulled Ribbit aside and questioned them. He should’ve done anything except what he actually did. He ignored the warning signs, thinking his friend was only joking.
Maybe if he’d said something that day, things would’ve turned out differently, because it wasn’t long before Ribbit started turning on him.
Chapter 2: Part Two
Chapter Text
Ribbit grew increasingly paranoid about the Circus. Their carefree attitude, once a stark contrast to his own, left them vulnerable. Without consequences, there was nothing to fear, and without fear, there was no reason to act. The pointlessness of it all had gotten to Ribbit, driving them mad.
Once, while they were relaxing on the top floor of the tent, Jax had caught Ribbit leaning over the balcony. A fall from that height would kill them in the real world, but not while they were trapped inside the Circus. Still, it wasn’t safe.
He pulled his friend back and chastised them. “Don’t lean so close to the edge,” warned Jax. The unspoken, because you’re scaring me, was left unsaid.
“Why?” asked Ribbit, scrunching up their nose. They smiled at him and went back to leaning, completely ignoring his warning.
Jax frowned. “What do you mean why? You’d hurt yourself if you fell.”
“So what? Caine can mend me in a second.”
“Because it’d hurt.”
Ribbit stared at him, unblinking. For a moment, Jax thought they wouldn’t answer him, but then Ribbit, in a voice quieter than a whisper, said, “Is it really pain if it's simulated?”
Jax didn’t know how to respond to that. He wasn’t an expert on virtual realities or computer science. So he left it. The silence, once comforting, grew poignant—a bitter reminder of Jax’s inability to help his friend.
As time passed, the others noticed. Ribbit’s attitude worsened. Now, it wasn’t just NPCs they played with, but also the members of the Circus. Ribbit didn’t care if they hurt people because pain was meaningless. Yet, it didn’t stop Jax from trying.
“What’s it matter to you?” asked Ribbit when Jax confronted them about it. “None of it’s real.”
“It’s real to me,” said Jax. “I don’t want the others to hate you.”
He’d overheard them complaining about Ribbit, saying they’d leave them out of adventures if they didn’t stop. Jax didn’t want that to happen to his friend. He wanted the old Ribbit back—the one who joked around and made him smile. That Ribbit was his friend, not this new, bitter one.
“Who cares,” scoffed Ribbit.
You used to, Jax wanted to say, but the words got stuck in his throat.
Soon after, Ribbit declined even further. They stopped eating, drinking, and even sleeping, encouraging Jax to follow their example. None of them needed food or water to survive. You couldn’t die in the Circus, and starvation or dehydration were non-existent. But without these essentials, Ribbit lost their sense of self.
They were spiralling, dragging Jax down with them.
He tried. He really did. But even when he offered to share a plate of food with them, Ribbit refused.
“Why bother?” said Ribbit. “Eating is a farce; an illusion.”
There it was again—the same pointless argument. One that would have them talking in circles for hours.
Ribbit grinned at him, their lips stretched from ear to ear. “What’s the point in pretending? Our human bodies are gone. We’re just a snapshot of a memory, nothing more.”
“Come on, Ribbit. You can’t possibly think—”
“Prove me wrong,” spat Ribbit. When Jax didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, Ribbit mocked him. “What’s that? You can’t? Then don’t tell me what to think.”
What Ribbit said frightened him. He didn’t know how to get through to them, especially when every argument was met with resistance. None of the others knew what to do either.
How long until Ribbit completely shut down?
He didn’t know how to help. Every step forward brought him two steps back. Jax was failing them; he was failing his friend.
Chapter 3: Part Three
Chapter Text
From then on, every adventure turned into a battle of wills. Ribbit had completely lost the plot. They no longer saw them as individuals but as playthings, empty husks. It didn’t matter what Jax said or how he said it; Ribbit refused to listen.
It was demoralising; exhausting in a way that drained the soul. Ribbit was drowning, and Jax was their only lifesaver, except he could barely keep himself afloat, let alone both of them.
Then the worst happened. During one of their adventures, while working as chefs in a kitchen, Ribbit stood over the stove, silently watching the soup boil. Jax tried to get them to participate, but it was as if he were invisible. Nothing he said got through to them.
Halfway through the service, Ribbit turned to him and said, “This is pointless. None of us are real. You, me, the others. We’re Caine’s playthings.”
“Don’t say that,” frowned Jax. “We’re still people... I think.” It was getting harder to convince Ribbit when Jax couldn’t even convince himself.
Ribbit ignored him and reached for a knife beside the chopping board. Fear gripped Jax’s stomach. He didn’t know what Ribbit planned to do with it, and he wasn’t about to find out.
“Ribbit, don’t!” yelled Jax.
It all happened so quickly. Jax lunged forward, trying to wrench the knife out of Ribbit’s hand. But Ribbit side-stepped him, pinning Jax to the benchtop.
“We don’t bleed, Jax. We don’t eat, drink, or sleep. What are we, huh? ‘Cause we’re not human; not anymore.”
“Please, just put down the knife,” begged Jax.
His heart was pounding in his chest. He didn’t know what to do.
“Why? Am I scaring you?” mocked Ribbit.
“...no.”
A bead of sweat trickled down Jax’s forehead, pooling under his chin. Ribbit stared at his face, looking straight through him.
“I’m your friend, aren’t I? You shouldn’t be scared of me,” said Ribbit, their voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m not scared,” lied Jax.
“YES, YOU ARE!!” roared Ribbit.
Jax flinched, startled by Ribbit’s outburst. His ears flattened against his head, trying to appear nonthreatening.
They stared at each other, both breathing heavily.
“Ribbit…?” Jax was at a loss for words, but more than that, he was terrified. Terrified at what Ribbit might do.
Ribbit dropped the knife, letting it clang to the floor, then walked away, leaving Jax standing in the middle of the kitchen. The steam from the soup whistled, but he didn’t dare make a move to switch it off.
When they returned from the adventure, Ribbit practically sprinted to their room. Jax went to chase after them, but a hand on his shoulder held him back.
“Dude, leave it,” said Kaufmo. “They’re a lost cause.”
“There has to be something I can do,” argued Jax.
Ragatha moved closer to stand beside Kaufmo. He was beginning to feel outnumbered, as if everyone had already given up on Ribbit.
“Listen, Jax. I know this is tough to hear, but Ribbit needs some space right now,” Ragatha hesitated. “And maybe you do too.”
“What’s that mean?” asked Jax.
Ragatha glanced at Kaufmo, then back at him. Her brows furrowed. “Well, it’s just that, Ribbit isn’t the greatest influence, especially how they’ve been acting lately.”
Jax took a step back. What was she saying? Ribbit wasn’t a bad influence; they were just... going through something.
“They’re fine,” said Jax. “Just a minor hiccup, that’s all.”
“A bit more than a hiccup if they’re pointing a knife at you,” snarked Kaufmo.
Shit, Kaufmo must’ve overheard their argument.
“They did WHAT?” yelled Ragatha.
“It’s a misunderstanding,” excused Jax.
But Ragatha disagreed. “They’re dangerous, Jax. What if they’d hurt you?”
“You don’t know them like I do. Ribbit wouldn’t… they just wouldn’t, okay?”
“Jax, please,” started Ragatha. “You’ve got to listen—”
“YOU DON’T GET IT!!” yelled Jax, cutting off whatever spiel Ragatha had in mind. “Ribbit’s my friend, not yours. I’m the only one who can help them.”
He pushed past a shocked Kaufmo and chased after Ribbit, hoping to catch them before it was too late. But abstraction, like any cancer, had been spreading inside them for a while, infecting their thoughts long before any symptoms appeared.
Chapter 4: Part Four
Chapter Text
Jax bounded upstairs two at a time, racing to find his friend. Ragatha and Kaufmo might have given up on Ribbit, but not Jax. They needed him. There had to be something he could do; anything to lessen the stress they were under.
When Jax reached Ribbit’s door, he hesitated. Would they even want to talk to him? After their argument… after the way it’d ended… he…
No.
Jax couldn’t think like that. Ribbit was the first person they connected with in the Circus—and not just superficial stuff; personal things Jax hadn’t told anyone else. Secrets he’d kept hidden from everyone. That had to mean something.
He reached for the door handle and pushed down, but it was locked. Ribbit had barricaded themself in their room.
“Ribbit? Can I talk to you?” Jax asked. He knocked on their door, hoping they’d answer, but there was no reply. “Please, Ribbit. Let me know you’re okay.”
There was a long pause before a small voice replied, “Go away.”
Ribbit sounded defeated, as if all the energy had been drained from their body.
“Can we talk about this?” asked Jax.
More silence.
Was Ribbit ignoring him? Was Jax making things worse?
He leaned against the door, with his head resting on the frame. The wood was smooth to the touch, more like plastic than oak.
“I know you’re listening,” Jax continued. “You don’t have to say anything, but I want you to know that I don’t blame you for today. I—”
Jax closed his eyes.
He had to tell them. He had to tell Ribbit how he felt.
“I care about you, okay.”
On the other side of the door, he heard what sounded like a sniffle. Ribbit had heard him, but they didn’t say a word. Perhaps, they couldn’t. Neither of them were good with vulnerability, not when the Circus preyed on your insecurities.
Jax sighed. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
There was no tomorrow, at least, not for Ribbit. If Jax had known what awaited him the next day, he would’ve fought tooth and nail to tear down that door. But since he didn’t, Ribbit’s door stayed firmly shut. It was his final failure; the moment he relived over and over again, wondering if he could’ve saved his friend.
Jax had waited for Ribbit to show up, but by mid-afternoon, they were nowhere to be seen. When Caine eventually called the group over for an adventure, Ribbit was still missing. It didn’t take long to figure out why.
In their room, beneath the covers, lay a black beast, covered in hundreds of beady eyes. It roared in anguish, driven solely by animalistic rage.
Ribbit had abstracted, and Jax hadn’t done anything.
In that moment, Jax didn’t give a fuck what the others said or the condolences they offered. They were meaningless. He pushed past a distressed Ragatha, ignored Kaufmo’s shout, and bolted to his bedroom, where they couldn’t see him fall apart.
Jax sank to his knees and clutched his head, tugging at his ears. It was too much. He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.
A voice, sounding suspiciously like Ribbit, whispered in his ear, telling him what he knew to be the truth:
“You’re a bad friend.”
“Why didn’t you help me?”
“I was counting on you.”
Jax should’ve done more; he should’ve been there when his friend needed him the most. He balled his fists, shaking with barely restrained fury.
Never again.
He would never put himself in a position where others relied on him. He’d only end up letting them down.
Frog_09 on Chapter 3 Mon 01 Sep 2025 06:05PM UTC
Comment Actions
TADC_drabbles on Chapter 3 Mon 01 Sep 2025 06:17PM UTC
Comment Actions