Misery Loves Company

Bombing The Way To Panic

As soon as you step out of the portal, you send a pulse of magic from your place in the throne room. Your inner group rushes in, Dream engulfing you in a hug as he sobs ugily in relief. You and Cross are at the center of a group hug before you know it, and you smile.

“aren’t i impressive, being able to escape after only one day of being captive?” you propose, your chest puffing out a bit as you smirk mischeviously. Your tendrils writhe unhappily as Dream shoots you down, calling you stupid. You roll your eyelight before meeting Cross’ missmatched eyelights.

You flush, remembering your own thoughts, and you're happy it doesn’t shine through your tar. You advert your eyelight to Dream, looking at his red rimmed sockets, you smile softly.

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It’s been nearly a month since then, and you feel a little saddened. Ever since that day, Cross seems to avoid you, not attending meetings, even going as far as to abandon others and his activities to rush away, the only time you see him is during meals, and even then, he sits at the far end of the table. You don’t know what happened, maybe it was the fight, or maybe it was something else.

You sigh as Cross rushes from the living room as you enter it before dropping your weight onto the couch and letting your depression take hold of your thoughts. Maybe he doesn’t like you? Maybe he hates you? Maybe he has someone else in his soul? You freeze in your movements as your soul sinks, your eyelight dimming from it’s usual piercing glow.

You shake the thoughts away, deciding that that is enough depression for now. You flip on the TV, flipping through the channels boredly until you see UnderNovela. You let it play out for a while, the show actually being good enough to hold your attention.

You jolt when the couch dips with someone else’s weight, looking over to see Thread. “hey” you greet, Thread giving you a polite nod as he settles down beside you and you both continue to watch the show. At some point Dream joins you both with snacks, settling himself in your lap for cuddles.

You indulge him and wrap your arms around his waist as you enjoy the show, groaning when each episode ends. You’re overjoyed when the next episode turns on, snickering at the antics of the spanish Papyrus and Frisk.

You’re not sure when you nod off, but you relax into your brother’s back, and allow the darkness to consume you.

[You gasp, looking at the bouquet of beautiful Periwinkle flowers. You smile, taking them into your own hands as tears fill your eyes.

“Mom! Dad! You’re here!” you shout, excited and joyus. “Of course, sweetie, congratulations” your dad says, a calm and affectionate smile on his barely wrinkled face as he brings you into a soft hug, trying and failing to not squish the flowers in your hold.

You laugh, snorting as your mother pulls him back a bit. “Give them some space, they just got back” she says, looping her arm into your father’s. You puff your chest out as your youngest sibling stands in front of you when your parents back away, smirking as her husband stands next to her. She tries to show him off to you as he looks at her with amusement, “I told you I’d marry him, didn’t I?” she says, showing off her ring.

You smile, “That you did, I can see I’ll have another nephew or neice soon too” you say, observing her rounding belly with a bit of sorrow in your soul. She blushes weakly, and scowls, “You calling me fat?” she inquires and you shake your head, exasperated. Your elder sister stands in the background scowling lightly, but you know she doesn’t mean anything by it, she just has a natural RBF.

Your twelve year old nephew attacks you, jumping and hugging you with vigour. You laugh brightly, happy as you pepper him with kisses.

The medals on your uniform clink together, drawing your nephew’s attention. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing at a rather new one. You mimic his pointing, “I got that when-”, you’re cut off as the scene changes.

Blood mixes with the mud as troop members trudge through the makeshift trench, guns in hand as blood runs from any and all wounds. You gulp as you peak over the side, slightly adjusting the scope on your rifle. You tuck down the fear in your throat, peering through it and at the multitude of other soldiers on the enemy side. You duck back down as the current commanding officer begins to speak, “Aid is being sent our way, soldiers, let's give them something to aid!” he annouces, trying to rally you all but a majority have already given up.

You inhale shakily as you look at your teammates, your bloodied and fearful teammates, your friends.

You nod to your commander with determination shining in your eyes. You peer back over the edge of the trench and begin to shoot in successesion, enemy soldiers dropping like flies.

You almost think you’re going to make it out of this, that you’ll make it home to your family.

Almost...

Until fighter jets begin flying overhead, from the enemy's side. Bombs rain down, and you allow tears to stream freely down your face as you look up at the falling object right above you. The golden shadowed hue in all it’s glory as it grows closer each second, it feels as if time itself has slowed. Golden wings with a golden halo above shine bright in your vision.

Goodbye mom and dad, goodbye sisters, goodbye nephew, goodbye unborn child.

You think to yourself, what was one thing that helped you through life besides your family. Then, without further thought, you tack on-.

Goodbye Undertale…..]

The dream, or should I say nightmare, ends with a flash of white and you jolt awake breathing heavily. Your breath stutters as you clutch at your tunic, fear weighing you down.

You can’t see. You can’t see!

You weeze a little as you try to pull in air, though you don’t need it. Your face feels hot and wet. Everything around you seems too much and your hand that was clutching your tunic suddenly moves in tune with the other, gripping at the sides of your skull, where the sound seems to come from.

It doesn’t help, if anything, it makes it worse. The gunshots ring louder, shouting coming in the distance, but you can’t make out the words. The gold coloring haunts you as you scratch at your skull, trying to quiet the noise. Your teeth are parted and moving rapidly but you hear nothing, you’d think that’d make you calm down. After all, you wanted it to be quiet.

But it makes you panic all the more, and you hit the side of your skull, wondering why you can’t see or hear. You are happy to merely feel the impact of your strikes, the pain keeping you as grounded as it can, though not by much. You shriek when your hands are grabbed, trying to pull away.

You don’t notice you’re shaking uncontrollably until someone pulls you into their arms.