ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖

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(CW: Somewhat detailed description of violence, mentions of insomnia/nightmares)

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          Quackity didn't sleep very much. Having been terrified of what his own mind conjured up in his short dozes, the most rest he ever got was brief naps, and he was almost always immediately woken. He would've said he considered it insomnia, but making such a weakness public was definitely not on his agenda. Q had dreams often, as most people do. Some were surprisingly pleasant (on very rare occasions, of course), although most were not. Some were simple nightmares, and some were much, much worse. Las Nevadas being destroyed, Dream, and Technoblade. Technoblade, the jackass that made his face marred with a long scar across his now blind eye and knocked out one of his fucking teeth. Technoblade, the idiot that made a good few seconds of his life absolutely unbearable. And with a pickaxe. He remembered it vividly, especially his own screams of terror. He could hardly imagine somebody being able to forget such sounds. A dull edge dragging forcefully across his face, tearing deep into his forehead and down over his eyelid until it reached his lips. It was so terribly painful, feeling as if his face was on fire. Sure, it was his own damn fault for going after the Blade himself; but something like that did not seem to be a fitting punishment. Of course, Techno was known to wound others; one look at Tubbo made it obvious. The boy was scarred beyond recognition, actually counting Quackity quite lucky. So, these night terrors were considered irrational until further notice.

          Then Wilbur was revived, and something... changed. He felt less exhausted, less... drained. Internally, he claimed it was simply the thrill of competition, only the burger van that kept him strangely happy. Anyone else who would've had the nerve to speak up about it certainly would have disagreed; but Quackity was too far up in the hierarchy of most communities, and nobody dared risk upsetting him. Having little amounts of sleep made the man particularly irritable, as expected. Most could confirm it wasn't worth it. And then something odd happened.


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{𝕊𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥'𝕤 ℙ𝕚𝕒𝕟𝕠} - [[DISCONTINUED]]Where stories live. Discover now