Yes, term of endearment.

by POV_etc

Summary:

The odds were never on Quackity's side to begin with. It’s in the name ‘’Roulette’’, one in twenty-six.

The past is always creeping on the corner ready to rip his breath away. The gods above found entertainment in his pain, toying with his heart. Yes, he admits he made mistakes, but surely he learnt from it… right?

Or: Quackity didn’t learn from his past mistakes.He is now chased down by both the heroes of Manberg and the villains who might want more than his life.

Notes:

PLS DON'T TAKE THIS SRL
I wrote this while high ( I don't recommend), because I lost a bet against my big simp of a friend. She lovesssss her miou miou husbando wet cat quackity with a lot of trauma. Also I'm neurodivergent...make the math neurodivergent + alcohool = whatever wattpad gurggle that gives

Chapter 1: Some days when I wake up I feel like dying.

Some days when I wake up I feel like dying.

 

Those mornings Quackity says : '’Get up buddy, show them who’s the best and live your day.’’ But unlike him, his brain doesn’t like to talk. And so
he lets the worms rot him from the core….

-x-

However this morning the young avian felt the nothing in between,
the sensation of Thanatos grazing and toying with his throat. Laughing at him with pity, but just for today he laughs with Death too.

Hell just for the occasion Quackity indulges himself with those fag sticks he once swore to never touch again.

He puffed a weak chuckle, the burning air leaving his lips while the Blue flowed right back in.
The trail of smoke creating a new form of art in itself. An ephemeral gift for his tormentor.

It’s intoxicating.
The silence, the lonely silence.
A promise of Aeolus mounting wrath.

He can hear it. Not as loud as before, but still as sharp as ever. Exhale. Unlike an upcoming storm. No thunder answering him, but the voids offering him prayers from the ruins of death as the heavenly above shall deny him.

Yes, feather

As through the darkness, he sways on his last leg. Smile plaster on his face, cockily proud of his chef d'oeuvre unbeknown of his own trembling who gave him away. Inhale. He could use some more Blue.

Yes. my dear

Exhale. Nevermind. Stumbling on his feet, dripping shard of glass in hand he sure looked like a criminal.

Quackity felt alive, the most alive he had ever been since he turned 15. Freed by these fifty-four seconds, all the tension sweeping from his figure. Inhale.

Yes. sugar spice

Exhale. Truly a sight to behold as he watches the man of both his dreams and nightmare give his final breath. The same man who promised him everything, the world, the sun and gazing moon just for them. Him.
A stinky breath the duck won’t get used to and now, will never.

Yes. ducky

His finger mindlessly flickering the metal box cap and spinning it around. The cold flame warning its surrounding of his presence, swaying around trying to burn whatever was in their reach.

All bark no bite

And as the avian flicked his last cigarette for the night, the sky finally went bright.

-x-

Tonight was the day Alexis died.

 

Yes. term of endearment