• Published 7th Sep 2013
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Dark Paradise: the TwiLuna Group Collab - Habanc



100-500 word prompt-based minifics from the TwiLuna group. Contains copious amounts of adorkableness.

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Sleep - Fuzzyfurvert

Written by: Fuzzyfurvert

*****

My name is Luna.

I am the Princess of the Night. Or, to quoth the vigilante; I am the Night.

Ponies associate many things with the night. Darkness, primarily. The moon and stars too, of course, but the thing most closely associated with it, on a personal level, is sleep. I am intimately familiar with sleep and dreams. Dreamhopping is even a little hobby of mine, but don’t tell Tia that. She nags.

However, not only am I intimately familiar with sleep, but I am also familiar with the lack of it. I’m experiencing it right now. My partner, Twilight, is asleep in the bed behind me right now. Mocking me with her blissful snoring. She looks very comfortable. I envy the way she can just fall asleep when she gets in the bed. She can take naps. Sometimes it’s hell waking her up, but Faust dammit, at least she can sleep!

I stay awake. I don’t have to. Frequently, I want to. I just do.

‘Insomnia’ is what the doctors call sleeplessness these days. Apparently, I have this in abundance. Pardon me if I don’t laugh at the irony of a goddess of the night that cannot sleep. But insomnia isn’t the only thing that keeps me awake. Oh no! Like a true champion of old, I am a master of not sleeping! I cannot lay comfortably for long and toss about until I rob myself of what little rest I do get. The quacks call that ‘restless leg syndrome’. I call it annoying.

They say, when I am sleeping, between my nightly bouts of unconscious dancing with my pillows, that I snore. They are not the hideously adorable noises that my Twilight is making behind me. No. It is a racket that could wake the dead, or the sleeping, such as myself. And even should that not wake me; I. STOP. BREATHING.

It is only for short moments, I am told. They call that ‘apnea’ or some such prattle.

Altogether every major sleep disorder, as modern medicine defines it, resides within me, the Princess of the MOTHERBUCKING Night! Irony, it seems, knows no limits.

Twilight just snorted and cooed in her sleep. I can see her eyes fluttering about behind her lids. She is dreaming of something that makes her smile. Seeing that - even as I write in my journal, seething with quiet rage and eternal semi-exhaustion - I smile. Maybe I’ll go see what my sweetheart is dreaming about, since I’m still up.

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