Dream SMP Angst One-Shots (REQUEST BASED)

Ugly Duckling (Quackity Angst)

Requested by: @KittiBird

Request: Quackity angsr, basically Quackity is a duck hybrid and with all the stress he doesn't take care of his wings anymore. I want an angsty shot of the moment he realizes he can't fly anymore >:3

TW/CW: depression, guilt, past abuse, implied self harm, abusive past relationship, infections, VERY mild gore

Let me know if I need to add more!

!!!SCHLATT AND Q ARE EXES IN THIS!!! 

Schlatt was stressful. When they had been together, the appearances of red marks on Quackitys arms became frequent, and blue and purple circles on his body were covered by makeup. He hated to use his wings, because they were always wrapped in bandages. He had lived through hell when he lived with Schlatt, and the marks on his body, although disappearing, served as reminders to what had happened. He had thought that nothing could ever be worse than Schlatt. Hell, the dude executed a fucking KID on stage, just because he was talking to Wilbur and some other 'traitors'. The man is crazy. When Quackity left, he vowed to trust himself more, and treat himself better.

He had not been sticking to that vow.

He had tried at first. Healthy food, exercise, routine sleep schedule. But that effort had faded when he founded Las Nevadas. He became obsessed, addicted to the spin of the wheel, the clinking of the chips, the feel of the cards. He used to have a self care routine, even when he was with Schlatt. He would wash his hair and face, and his wings as well. He'd always taken care of his wings. Washing them, plucking them, whatever he had needed to do. But that too had been neglected for months now. 

His weight was dropping and his clothes looked baggy. He had acne for the first time since he was 17, and he still wasn't washing his face. He completely neglected his wings, the stress of running a nation based on his own crippling addiction being overwhelming.  He had been working with the slot machines today, hunched over the machine as he slid more and more money into it, never getting anything in return. The day had been rough, so he decided it would be a hood idea to go home a little early. His feet felt numb, so for the first time in months, he decided to fly home to air his wings out a bit.

He stepped outside, the cool air hitting his skin refreshingly. He smiled, wondering how long it had been since he'd glided through the sky, relaxed and care-free. He let out a soft sigh before sspreadng his wings and-

No. Not spreading his wings. He tried to, but they would come out past his shoulders. He mumbled to himself, annoyed, as he pulled them free. He hummed contentedly and tried once more to lift himself into the air, but whined when he couldn't. He tried to flap his wings, to get off the ground. He looked back at his golden feathers and noticed they were completely infected, pus and blood dripping from them. He finally registered he couldn't fly, and was shocked into silence for a moment. He whimpered as he pressed his fingers to the out-of-order limbs, tears pooling in his eyes. 

He slumped to the ground, knees giving out beneath him as he stared off into the distance, trying to come to terms with the fact that he couldn't fly. He heard sobbing, and furrowed his brows, wondering who it was. He realized it was him, tears streaming down his face, his voice cracking as he verbally denied the situation. He curled up in a ball, tucking his head into his chest as he cried, shaking. It felt so similar, the same hopelessness he had felt with Schlatt. He laid there for hours, only leaving when he saw Slmciccl coming to look at the machines.

He ran home, and the red marks appeared once more.

WOOOO FIRST ANGST CHAPTERRRR