#but it's disguised as writing bc i wanted to spice things up a bit idfk

[ifievertoldyou]

"Who are you, Quackity?"

Wilbur whispered, staring into Q's eyes as though he was searching for something– or someone.

I'm somebody who escaped from a shipwreck but is still going to drown because he can't bring himself to take his fucking armor off, even as he realizes that he's sinking further and further from where he should be, down until he can't breathe anymore and his vision's going black, and everything is so, so heavy, but he just can't do it, Q thought.

I'm a pathetic little house cat that tries to act like the King of the Jungle, as though that'd make him any less in over his head.

I'm a pale imitation of Quackity, too cruel to be human, yet too human to actually be cruel.

I'm nothing now. Just an empty shell where there's supposed to be a person. A sad combination of traits that just cancel each other out and do absolutely fucking nothing for anybody. Until not even I know what I'm supposed to be anymore.

I'm hurting and I think I've forgotten what it's like to not be constantly pushing away the pain and memories of the past.

I'm a haunted house that's full of ghosts and demons and so, so much torment, that people are either terrified of even stepping foot inside of it, or else they see it as some sort of gimmicky joke that they can laugh at.

And I'm both at the same time. Both painfully, bone chillingly real and yet somehow still superficial. A sick juxtaposition of all that is real and fake, coagulating into a single fucking entity of confusion that isn't sure if the blood he sees spattering the floorboards is real or fake anymore. Or if it's even his…

I'm burning up inside and yet I've never felt as cold as I do now.

I'm pushing people away whether I mean to or not, and I see people being scared of me and I hate it because that's not who I am, but I also love it because that means I'm safe. That means that they won't ever think of crossing me. That I won't get hurt again. And I hate that I feel that way. I hate it…

I'm everything that I was afraid of when I got here. Nothing like how I was before. I'm… I'm…

"I'm stronger." was the reply Q managed to force out, times more confident than he actually felt. Those two words felt like fireants that were biting his tongue. He wasn't stronger, not at all. If anything, he was the exact opposite. But Wilbur didn't need to know that. Q refused to let anybody gain an advantage over him ever again. And so, he just let the lie sit in the air, weighing uncomfortably on his chest, as Wilbur looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face. The inscrutablity made Q more nervous than he wanted to admit. But he didn't let it show. Or couldn't.

He wasn't fucking sure anymore.