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Jax seems agitated.

Usually when you come to the pillow fort to visit, she’s curled up in a circle in the very back of the tent where the shadows are the darkest. Occasionally, she might be sitting up, watching you from a distance with curious eyes.

Today she is restless; circling the fort with jerky movements, graceless and staggering.

“…Jax?” you call out to her, voice shaky with fear. Is she sick? Is she hurt? Is she having an episode?

The sound of your voice has her screeching to a halt, limbs still jerking as every one of her dilated pupils locks in on you.

You keep still as she approaches you, not wanting to startle her with any sudden movements. She tilts her head, looking you up and down. Sizing you up, but for what? She takes in slow step towards you, then another, and when you make no move to run she steadily approaches you, much calmer now that she knows you are here. Some of her eyes close with content while others stare unblinking as she stops in front of you and lowers her head.

You reach out and Jax presses against your palm almost immediately, body rumbling beneath your hand like a boat’s engine.

Touching her feels like slipping your hands through a tv screen, reaching past the glass to feel the crackling static inside. She’s warm beneath your fingers, energy pulsing beneath the inky darkness of her shell. It tickles against you where your skin makes contact. Stings a little too; like the pins and needles of sleeping limbs.

Jax shudders at the contact, pressing so close that she pushes you back enough to almost lose your balance. You tighten your arms around her to keep your footing.

You start to notice something is wrong when you try to shift your weight back to your feet. When you move to push away from Jax’s body you find yourself sinking deeper into it. The pins and needles make way for a third stronger feeling that burns you to your core.

The feeling only intensifies the deeper you sink, surrounded by static and darkness until you’re suddenly surrounded by her—rather, the different masks she used to wear. You feel hands wrap around your waist and more around your neck even as another pair cartoonishly stretches out to honk the cheeks of your ass.

You can’t breathe. It could be the hands around your neck tightening or it could be the toothy mouths that take turns smothering your lips and stealing your breath from you.

You have to pull yourself away from them with a gasp; a strand of spit still connects you to the mouth of the most recent Jax to capture your lips. You see another door, opened just a crack, and move towards it with a resolve you don’t fully understand. You can feel too many arms as they wrap around you, holding down your body like weighted shackles. They’re all whispering things in your ear that make your blood rush and your temperature rise but you just keep pushing forward until you can’t. And when your feet refuse to move another step you lean forward and stretch out your arm, inching closer and closer until your fingertip brushes against the doorknob.

The weights leave you instantly. It’s just you and the door and an empty room.

You reach for the handle and before you can make contact it creaks wide open for you in invitation. You step through the doorframe and accept it.

Jax has her back to you but you can see her shoulders trembling and the sweat dripping down the back of her head. You take a step towards her, the warm glow of pink-tinted light lighting your path as you move.

Jax turns towards the source of the light; towards you; and you can see she looks the dazed look in her eyes and the feverish glow of her cheeks and you can see the way her arms wrap around herself like she needs to feel something.

“Something’s wrong.” Her voice comes out breathy, more of a wheeze than any spoken word. “It’s so much, it’s—!” She cuts herself off, legs trembling with the struggle to support her own weight.

You can’t fully see her eyes but you can hear the mucus in her voice with the hitch of her breath.

“I don’t want to go through this alone,” she whispers. You don’t know if you were meant to hear it.

Without thinking, you close the distance, taking Jax in your arms. It’s silly of you; isn’t this how you got into this mess in the first place? But you couldn’t refuse her then; how could you possibly turn her away now?

AhhhhhhhhhhHhhhHhHHHHHHHHH MY FAIL WIFE!!!!!!

First time I saw the pilot I thought to myself, oh no, Jax is gonna be the next tumblr sexy man. Little did I know she is actually the most beautiful toxic lesbian of my dreams.

I know the version of her living in the circus doesn’t get a happy ending but I honestly thought it was really satisfying. And still hopeful in the end because the real world version of Jax is still alive and still has time to learn who she is and come out. It really is fun how at the very end, when they’re all standing at the bus stop, you can see that irl!Jax has longer hair than in any of the other photos or videos. I like to think she’a figuring herself out. :)

Unrelated to happy ending, I really like the idea of a reader who joins the circus after the events of the finale. They never met Jax and they know from the start what they are. And after the initial existential crisis, they try to find meaning in this new life of theirs by studying the people who have abstracted. Is there really no way to bring them back? What’s the harm in trying?

And then the story takes a kind of horse girl adventure where they form a bond with this person that is presently more of a creature.