I'm Sorry The Next Chapter Of A World Without Him Will Be A Bit Late. I Do Have Half The Chapter Done
I'm sorry the next chapter of A World Without Him will be a bit late. I do have half the chapter done already and will try my best to publish it tomorrow.
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My family in Gaza lives under indescribable difficult conditions. The home that was once our safe haven is now a source of anxiety and fear. My father used to work hard to provide for us, but the war stopped everything, leaving us facing hardships without support. My younger siblings dream of living a normal life, playing and studying without fear of the future. Every help we receive means life, means hope for a better tomorrow. We need a hand to reach out to us, to light our way and ease this pain. Your donation is not just money, it is hope and an opportunity for a dignified lifehttps://gofund.me/ba5b76e9
Shadow Trails ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-- TW kinda detailed gore/violence and death ahead --
The being got pelted with rain as it walked along the sidewalk, trying to find some proper shelter. The rain never ended as it shivered in its torn clothing.
It briefly inspected its surroundings as it walked, seeing how the rain turns yellow and sizzles when it touches anything. Its brown clothes started to gain small burns from the downpour after a while.
The sidewalks were cracked with unknown stains, burns, and fluids stuck in the gutters. These discolored the puddles and small streams from the storm, making everything seem polluted and unsavory.
Everything else looked like your average town back in New Oreans, but something was off about this place. Everything seemed uncanny. Where small details should be, there were slights in what its memory provided.
It eventually found something when it passed a boarded up speakeasy with the name 113 Club. It had an alley with stone steps leading up to a side door, with a small awning it could probably fit under.
It immeadietly ran towards the awning before crouching down at the top of the stairs, barely staying out of the acid.
As soon as it no longer felt the burning sensation, it sagged onto the stairs slightly. It started to breathe slower and closed its eyes for a second of rest.
Then it opened its eyes again, seeing this place now with focused vision. It now realized what it had found odd about the place. The building had sharper angles and desigbs than what it had remebered, with many shades of red and black coloring the entire area.
Even the plants and sky were red from what it could see through the storm clouds. The clouds themselves seemed darker than usually possible, not even mentioning the precipitation that came from them.
It leaned back onto the locked door, feeling the rough wood and peeling paint against its back. It tilted its head up, looking towards the clouds.
'How did I wind up... here?' It thought. Closing its eyes, it tried to recall the events leading up to this, but all it turned up was blurry visions and static.
The being tilted its head down in thought, trying to think of anything from before it got stuck in this place. But its mind seemed scattered; as only bits came back to it.
It started to get irritated. 'Why can't I remember anything. What... happened to me.' The rain seemed to fall harder, hissing as it hit the ground more and more, becoming unbearable to the beings' sensitive ears.
It huffed, putting its head in its arms. Gritting its teeth, it tried to think back again. Anything to try and-
*BANG*
The being snaps its head up, ears flicking in alert. It looked to the sky.
*BANG*
Lightning strikes the open street, thunder crackling to life a second later. Its pupils turn to pinpricks, with the shadows lashing out, tearing up the wall behind it.
But the being didn't notice, as that strike finally jogged its memory.
A gunshot. It remembered a gunshot.
It... He was running. From who, he didn't know. He could only feel his shoes imprinting onto the soil as he fled.
He remembers hunting dogs barking in the background as he tried to escape; bullets flying past his head as he weaved through the dense forest.
His pursuer was never far behind, though, as the noise of the dogs seemed to only get closer and closer at every second.
He ran and lightly jumped over the protruding roots and shrubs that covered the familiar forest floor, some lowering or diverting their branches to make an easier path.
But the pursuer was never slowed down, it seemed, as the weighted steps of the hunter were still heard behind him.
Even when he was weaving between thick trunks and sheltered by the shadows cast by the moon, the hunter never let up. He supposed he could respect the tenacity.
Bullets often shot into nearby trees, throwing debris in every direction. He occasionally got nicked in the neck, arms, and torso, but nothing was too severe; he had to keep running anyway.
Yelling could suddenly be heard, curses of every scale being spat out in anger alongside the furious howels of those beasts the sloppy hunter had brought with him.
A certain click from reloading was all he got before he had to dodge again, bullets whistling by as he laughed at the absurdity, the noise echoing through the trees.
His grin grew as the soil turned to mud: signifying that the bayou was getting close. The smell of musk and stale water filled his nose as a strong breeze blew throughout.
His dress shoes were probably completely ruined by now: the mud sticking to his soles. The ground is now filled with small, muddy puddles as he kept going deeper and deeper into his bayou.
He could feel his power slowly growing; shadows flickering at the edges of his vision. Water splashed up to his pant cuff as he crashed through progressively bigger puddles.
Almost there. Another bullet whistled by his head, lodging into a tree a couple of inches away from his head. Just a bit more.
The footsteps behind him suddenly became silent. A sense of unease filled him as he continued his pace. He wasn't going to stop just because some Joe decided to-
*BANG*
White hot pain suddenly shot up from his left calf, causing his leg to collapse at the shock. He quickly had a face full of dirt, his brown framed glasses shattered on the ground.
What just happened.
He felt blood slowly run down his leg and onto the ground. He tried to stand up, but shots of pain from his leg quickly threw him back down again. Ha! It'll take more than that to keep me-
The world started to spin around him, the shadows from the trees growing in size as he failed to pull himself forward.
Then thosewretched dogs found him; they rushed at him with immense speed.
He felt the teeth sinking into his flesh, tearing out the muscles with ease, taking chunks out at a time. The pain flashed up in waves as he felt more and more blood flow down his limbs and soak into the mud.
He clenched his jaw, throwing his body, trying to get the dogs off of him. With the little strength he had, he was able to pull out a knife from his belt and slash one of the beasts across the stomach.
It fell back, and he focused his slashes onto the second dog. He was able to strike two of its legs before it finally staggered away. He took a quick breath, the comforting smell of murky water and moss helping clear his head slightly.
The mud stuck to his skin as he crawled forward. He was so close now. He just needed a bit further. He needed to get to the water.
He dug his hands deep into the earth, pulling himself forward again. But the pain from everything became too much; his vision becoming cloudy from the blood loss.
The blood created a dark trail as it colored the soil he was laying on, the deeper slashes on his left arm giving most of the scarlet liquid away. The scratches and bites on his body became almost unnoticeable.
He could barely see the swamp up ahead. The still water brought back some determination as he tried to crawl through the pain.
But he was never that lucky.
He remembers the boots stepping in the mud behind him, leisurely walking up behind, the hunter taking his precious time, as to drag on this entire dabacol.
He couldn't see the pursuer clearly, as his glasses werent for nothing and the blood loss obviously did some things to his vision. The hunter had pulled him to lay on his back, staring him down.
The hunter suddenly stepped onto his right leg, using his full weight until the bone snapped. He never screamed, though. Only an annoying grin plastered on his face with bloody teeth.
He cackled once again. That was a good show. A daring chase throughout his home territory, real riveting! He saw how the shadows crept in on the man, who stared at his face unknowingly.
His grin stretched farther. Oh, he had the urge to laugh right again! But, he couldn't without it becoming repetitive-
*Snap!*
A branch cracked in the forest. The shadows scurried away as the hunter jerked violently, seemingly out of whatever trance he was in.
The grinning man quickly looked to the sound. A deer stood tall bathed in moonlight. Staring at the duo with blackened eyes. His eyes widened.
The man had barely any time to react before cold metal collided with his temple, pushing his head back into the cold, smooth mud.
*BANG*
Another strike of lightning, the thunder echoing through the alleyway. It was farther away this time. The rain had let up a bit since he had been, well, reminiscing.
His breathing was heavy, body now rigid from the rain, mostly. He stared at the downpore; wondering. 'I... died.'
He closed his eyes once again, the notion absurd enough to be featured on one of those radionovelas he'd heard about.
'Beloved radio host, actually the Bayou Butcher of New Orleans, killed in bayou where he buried his victims!' He could imagine. He huffed out a shallow laugh.
The acid rain had let up almost entirely, leaving the slight smell in the air after a downpour. He looked out to the street again, seeing all the boarded up doors and windows and cracks on the buildings. His stomach twisted.
He huffed before standing up once again and walking back out onto the street. He smoothly jumped over any overturned concrete or piece of rubbish in his way, as he went in a random direction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The hotel had been going a bit slower than Charlie would have liked. A week after that incident on 666 News and not even one sinner had come asking for more details!
She even got Husk to help remodel the hotel a bit. Even if there was more green and purple than she would've liked in certain rooms.
Angel complained about the noise, saying he needed his beauty rest in order to keep the bucks flowing in. That caused Husk to mutter something she couldn't hear, and all of a sudden, she had to tear the two away from each other before furniture went flying.
They stayed away from each other the rest of the remodeling process.
Nifty also helped in the past week! Just, eh, in her own way. She was always skittering around the halls, stabbing the carpet after any remaining bugs. There was never any lasting damage to the floor, though, and all the dust and cobwebs were gone!
Now, besides remodeling, Charlie made many different posters for the hotel down in the lobby, just to stick all around Pentagram City and get the word out.
She obviously gave her drawing expertise to the design, but she almost always forgot to put the actual contact information, focused on the happy picture. So, she asked for help from Alastor, and he agreed! He never left the front desk, though; drawing and sketching on the bar counter.
However, he always forgot to put her phone number on there and kept writing 'Hazbin Hotel' instead of Happy Hotel. Whenever she asked, he just said, "I would never endorse those frivilous, jumbled picture cards! Anywho, the name is for your branding! No sinner with self-respect would go to any establishment called the 'Happy Hotel'. The other name fits the image of this city much better!"
She never really got what he meant by that. This was a place to help sinners gain happiness and reform from their sins to stop the extermination! But, she didn't change any posters out of politeness.
Vaggie was annoyed at her decision and started to grimace at the front desk whenever she passed through the lobby. She told Charlie that he was mocking them, but Charlie saw the effort Alastor put in to color and draw each poster for her.
So, when all of them were done, she called everyone to come to the lobby lounge for an important discussion.
"Ok! So, the hotel has been up for a bit, and no one seems to have noticed our hotel yet." Charlie starts, matter-of-factly to the group of people in the lobby.
Angel snickered at his perch on the love seat, with Husk giving a skeptical expression towards Charlie on the armchair.
Vaggie clenched her fists, narrowing her eyes beside Charlie, who seemed undisturbed by the feedback. "Now, I have made pairs to go out and put up posters up in the streets for the hotel. I will also be counting this as a bonding activity!"
Charlie poofed up some flashcards from a wave of her hand. "I'll list the pairs, and then each pair can go grab a stack to stick onto windows, walls, or electric poles." Charlie stated. "And only those things." Vaggie then emphasized.
A scoff from Angel is all they got in response.
"Ok, so the pairs start with me and Nifty, Husk and Vaggie, and lastly, Angel and Alastor." She read flipping through the index cards.
No groans sounded, so Charlie took that as a win, but Alastor did speak up. "Charlie dear, I'm afraid that at least one of us should stay at the hotel. To make sure no sinner tries anything while we're away."
"Oh, uh, that's a good point..." Charlie seems to think it over. Vaggie started to open her mouth, but Alastor cut her off.
"Well my dear, I think the best course for us is to leave the staff out of this little excursion." He casually suggested, eyes intently focusing on the glass he was cleaning.
"That does make sense... ok, that means that only two pairs will go out to put up fliers today. Vaggie and Husk can go to the west side, and I am now with Angel in the east side since Al and Nifty will stay at the hotel. Any objections?" Charlie asks.
No one put up any major fuss about the pairings, mainly waiting for Charlie to continue. Charlie seemed pleased with the results.
"Ok then! Let's go out and put up some posters, people!"
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A World Without Him
Chapter 22
His dream held nothing memorable. The black void had apparently lost its novelty after being dragged into its depths so many times before. Tang's expression held only annoyance as his body spinned and glided through the never-ending darkness.
He didn't want to deal with what he knew would come next. The hands, the voices, the damned buzzing that came in recently.
What he wanted right now was one of those phantom things to appear in front of him, actually consider him a person worth talking to, and answer his questions.
To tell him what this void was even for, how they had access to his head since he knows the reoccurring nightmares and chatter wasn't formed from his mind alone, no matter how those things try to gaslight him into convincing himself overwise.
However, he also knew nothing would come from screaming at the void or cursing these stupid voices out in every curse word he knew, dead languages included. Maybe some of them would understand; he saw the old style of clothing the two spirits had when they showed up at the infirmary.
But it's not like they would talk to him of their own accord (besides Cian, but that thing comes and goes as it pleases and only talks to him when it's amused or wants something. It's a wildcard he doesn't want to think of the implications of), those two he saw were freaking out when he just looked at them.
From the urgency in their voices, Tang doesn't think he has a good chance at a one on one like that again, especially not here.
So, he chose to do the only thing he could: wait, like almost every time before. He crossed his arms, folded his legs, and sat still, eyes closed as the void suddenly reacted to his choice.
It seemed to come alive as he relaxed into its atmosphere, accepting him into its domain. He swore he could feel tendrils of unseen energy suddenly coil and bend around him, letting themselves be seen for the first time. He could sense it slow and accelerate based on unknown variables, how it had potential, how it could be something more if someone just gave its power shape.
It was overwhelming, yet not unfamiliar, like an overenthusiastic relative hugging you a bit too tight. But when he opened his eyes again, everything suddenly stilled, only pitch black as far as he could see.
It was silent, empty, yet again. Tang didn't know what that could mean, or even what that rush before was, but he wanted to figure at least one thing about this place out.
And because of that, he closed his eyes, ignored the warning signs, and tried to coax the energy back out. He sat in silence for a good while, waiting for the familiar energy to return.
Nothing happened for a good while. No spikes in the atmosphere, no familiar feelings, and there weren't even the usual voices or hands crowding his space. It was just quiet. He didn't move to open his eyes, though, as he liked the peace and wanted to stay a bit longer, even with a small bit of paranoia in the back of his mind saying the nightmare would begin sooner or later.
So, he focussed on what he could feel. His hair swayed behind him in the low gravity, stray wisps tickling his neck as the strands went every-which-way. He could feel his clothes do the same, the soft fabric of his sleeves and the ends of his robe billowing away from him…
...My robe?
He slowly opened his eyes once again, looking down at his body. He was no longer in the drab uniform he was given at the sleeping quarters, but instead he was back in his old red, white, and gold outfit.
The fabric seemed brand new as he took a piece between his fingers, nothing like the worn threads of his actual outfit. His shoes, scarf, and gloves were absent, though, while he still had long white socks under his maroon pants.
He calmly unwound his legs, letting them dangle in front of him. Looking closely at the fabric, he could see a small, almost unnoticeable orange sheen over the clothing. Frowning, he lifted his hands to his face seeing the same sheen over his hands, sleeves, and… the bell.
It seems like this piece of shit followed me in here. He thought bitterly, scowling at the bracelet hanging off his wrist. He raised a hand to his hair, running his fingers through the strands.
He still wasn't exactly used to the length, having had short hair for a good decade before it started growing dramatically after LBD. His hand kept trailing through the strands, ending at the middle of his back. And even before then, he'd never had it this long.
He fidgeted with the ends of his hair, lost in thought. He noticed some pieces had become lighter than the others, similar to the highlights he'd seen in Mei's signature hairstyle. However, his were closer to ashy blond than neon green.
Tang wonders if the color was natural. It fits her family’s theme, the whole white, green, and gold palette, so maybe she did it as some self expression while also sticking to her family's rules. She’s also a descendant of the Dragon of the West, so he supposes it's possible to get it naturally from those mythical being genes.
If… when he goes back to Megatropolis, he'll have to ask her himself.
He let go of the strands he was fidgeting with, letting them float in place as he sighed into his palms. Taking his head out of his hands, he glanced around the void once more, trying to see if anything changed while he was stuck in his head. The scholar couldn't see anything different, so he sunk back into himself and crossed his arms with a huff.
He wonders if the voices are gone now, stuck somewhere, unable to interact with him anymore. He saw how panicked they were in the medical tent, and he hasn't been able to hear from any other voices like them afterwards. He wonders if Cian was the person they were talking about, how someone should have blocked the connections from them? The details were fuzzy.
Still, he remembered the clear fear on their faces, how they couldn't let him die just yet. He's supposed to stay away from Cian and the monastery apparently, and Tang is more than happy to avoid both if he could. He could feel it in his gut that interacting with either of those options would not result in something good.
It's not like he can do much else at this point. His bag had most likely been confiscated by those military officials while he was unconscious, so most of that supplies is stuff he's never getting back. He groaned at the thought. All of that work is just gone in the wind now.
He misses his journal the most. All the little notes and scribbles he makes help him to focus, and reading back on them helps keep the memories fresh. Most of the stuff he writes is just about the legends and Monkie Kid's adventures, though, as he likes to portray them on paper the most.
Speaking of the legends, he wonders what is exactly going on with these spirits. The scholar doesn't remember hearing of ghosts matching the descriptions of the spirits he'd seen in any of the myths he's read, and since he is a Certified Scholar Spectacular (name given to him from a 9 year old Mk with a paper badge to match. He kept it in his journal as a bookmark. He really wants that journal back now), he knows that they've never shown up in one.
He thinks they're somehow related to the Golden Cicada and the Great Monk, with the obvious gold and orange colors along with the multiple cicadas popping up in most of his dreams. He just doesn't know how that connects with the rest of the information he’s gotten.
Flickers of memories play in his head as he tries to think of anything tying these things together. Cian had called his visions flares, and that it had his powers before him. If Cian was anything like the other voices, did that mean those two spirits also had powers like his before, too?
How do his powers work in the first place, anyways? How can they be passed down from (most likely) the Great Monk if he had already ascended like in JTTW, and had no possibility of reincarnation?
He rubs the back of his neck, lost in thought. Maybe Cian had lied to him at some point, about anything really, but then how were those voices from the medical tent related?
The truth is, Tang doesn't know.
The declaration hurts his soul, but it's true. He can't link these things to anything he's seen before. Everything is too foreign, too unpredictable where he can't wrap his head around all the stuff piling over one another.
He hates the feeling: being in the dark, not knowing what he's really dealing with. He prides himself on his knowledge, his ingenuity, as it's the only thing that really sets him apart from his friends.
So when that gets taken away from him, he's left scrambling, making situations worse than they already were in an attempt to make them better.
His teeth grind together as his hands grow tight on his arms, the unpleasant thought wriggling under his skin. Maybe I shouldn't have stayed here for so long. Nothing good has come out of this place so far, anyways. He thinks, looking out into the unchanging darkness; it's still empty.
He didn't know what he was expecting.
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A World Without Him
Chapter 17
Tang's shift went on routinely.
Grab from the basket. Try to scrub out the stains or top layers of grime. Throw the piece into the machine. Let it run along once it's full. Go until the baskets empty. Ignore the worker taking and refilling the basket. Rinse and repeat.
That's how everything went; no pleasant chatter or white noise to cover the rumbles of machinery or the whispers of the actual workers. Oh, yeah, he forgot to mention that apparently they weren't considered actual workers as they were under “tent arrest”, which was just a polite way of saying they were slaving away under the “official” workers’ scrutiny.
He was lucky to even be allowed his own station instead of being an errand boy, though, as he saw some running around delivering soap or baking soda to whatever worker yelled out the loudest. Maybe it was because he wasn't making a scene and seemed to be mild-mannered with just a little intimidation. It's not like they're wrong, though.
The staring had also gotten a bit worse from there, as they seemed to get over the shock of his presence and start to test his limits. After a bit, the soldiers patrolling and workers coming for the baskets were not very subtle with their discomfort around him anymore. They seemed to be waiting for him to slip up and make some kind of mistake as he continued those tedious patterns of scrubbing, throwing, and silently screaming in his head.
It was easier to zone out when Tang didn't have constant looks directed at him 24/7. His mind and body were tired from the constant stress now, and he thinks his ankles would give out any minute from how long he's been standing and shuffling in place.
He wanted nothing more than to yell screw you to this place, and fall asleep back in his apartment; he wanted to sink away from all these prying eyes.
Maybe this was why he started to disassociate more, letting the piercing stares and scrutiny fall into the background as he let muscle memory do most of the work. Maybe this was when his mind started to blank with his head then trying to fill in the space, subconsciously bringing back some old friends to fill the void.
‘Everything is going wrong. What are we even supposed to do against that thing!?’
Tang sighed internally as he was brought back to reality. He thought, since he now had Cian yapping into his ears whenever it wanted, he would be free from the other annoying voices. There was no such luck to be had, though.
‘______ is already on the problem. The setup is going through and ____ get everything back __ the way it was. ____ whining.’
‘Well I'm so _____ for being a bit worried that it's got some grubby mitts on ____ now. How ___ we even going to get the _______ back up again?’
‘Ughhhhh…’
They didn't stay for long and faded out soon after he noticed them. Tang relaxed a bit at their departure, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
He knew they had something to do with what was happening with his head (as Cian used to also be “just a voice”, and it turned out to be something way more than something like that) but he didn't want to try interacting with them yet. He knew they didn't look too kindly to him, and seemed anxious when he seemed to notice their existence.
He didn't want to know what would happen if they figured out he could hear them the entire time. It's especially risky to try and interact with them now since he knows they might be able to interact with the world like Cian did, maybe to even more serious degrees if they were more powerful.
Thinking this much about everything was starting to hurt his head. I don't even know where these stupid voices are coming from in the first place, less so why they're messing with my life! He thought, accidently ripping a piece off of a tent in his stupor.
He cringed at that, and then carefully put it into the wash for someone else to deal with. He really needed a nap, and maybe a good story to fill his mind with distractions. But almost no breaks are allowed in here. He had learned just how harsh this place was when there was a big commotion two rows down in front of him.
One of the other workers (the one who refused to get up from the ground near the start of the day. Tang recognized the guy from the burn marks up the side of his face) was forcefully dragged out of the building when he tried to sleep on the floor. Wherever they were taking him, it didn't seem good as the guy knocked over baskets and other cleaning supplies, and Tang really didn't want to find out for himself.
He quickly woke himself up by slapping his cheeks and went back to his work after that instead of gawking any more at the scene. His body probably couldn't take another harrowing experience like that this week lest he collapse onto the ground. Maybe I would be brought to where they were keeping Zach if I collapsed.
Anyways, after what felt like hours of scrubbing and washing after that incident, the loud sound of a bell rang throughout the camp, signaling what Tang assumed was the lunch break. He was probably right based on the looks of relief that came over all the other peoples’ faces as they started moving away from their stations.
Tang quickly went with the crowd, moving with the wave of people trying to squeeze through the entrance doors with everyone else. His stomach had started growling an hour ago, and after he almost ate a detergent pod thinking it was another one of those gross breakfast bars, he really didn't want to wait any longer.
But before he could even get close to those doors, he was pulled out of the crowd by his sleeve and almost landed onto another station at the force. Looking up and about to argue with whoever stopped him, he realized it was the Head Soldier from earlier, and quickly bit back his retort.
The guy was gruff, obviously. He had a buzz cut and a 5 o'clock shadow that didn't help hide any of the guy’s wrinkles. He also had a branded military cap unlike anyone else in the building. Tang didn't look that closely at anything else though, mainly because the guy looked down at him with a snarl and furrowed brows before speaking up, too loudly in Tang’s opinion.
“Don't go wandering off now. You and the other low-lives eat in your tent away from the workers and soldiers. Wouldn't want you all to conspire or have fights to break out, would we?”
Tang didn't answer the rhetorical question, yanking his sleeve out of the guy’s hold as he looked away from his gaze. Seeing a small commune of people near the back of the building, he quickly walked away and started going towards them, seeing Carlson near the back which solidified that this was probably his group.
The Head Soldier slowly walked behind him until he was back with all of them near the back, and then clapped loudly to get everyone's attention.
“Go with your assigned team back to the tent and take your lunch break. Remember that it's only 25 minutes, and if you're late you'll have to report to me for appropriate punishment. Now shoo.” He waved a hand before walking out of the building's back door, leaving the group alone with the 3 chaperone soldiers.
They were almost immediately ushered out of the room by said soldiers, many of them having to speed walk back to the tent from how fast these guys were going. Tang quickly looked around the place, trying to see everything in a new light compared to yesterday.
All he could were groups of people sitting at picnic tables further away, digging into their bowls like dogs who haven't been fed in weeks. Their faces held many scars and bruises, but no emotion as they ate, scarfing down all the brown stuff they could around a fire before the next bell would ring out. One seemed to lock gazes with him, crazed eyes looking into ones of apprehension. But that was all he could see before getting forced back into the tent with a shove along with the others.
Many grunts of disapproval were let out before everyone slowly went back to their own devices. Tang swallowed heavily, standing in place for a bit after the rush, and then quietly went back to his bed while swerving away from the other inhabitants.
He just sat back down onto his cot after that, letting the white noise distract his head from anything else. He only stares at the ceiling, if you could call it that, not bothering to move even when hearing the tent flap open and the clinking of metal signaling the food is here. He didn't feel that hungry anymore.
He stayed that way for a bit, letting his situation finally sink in after the hectic time he's already had, and it's not even 1 o'clock yet. He squints his eyes, letting the world blur and refocus at his will. He flinched as a hand landed onto his shoulder, and it quickly retracted at his reaction. It was Rick, holding two bowls of whatever this place was serving to them.
Rick didn't seem that deterred by the reaction. “Woah there, didn't mean to scare you that badly, heh. You seemed all out of it, and your slop was getting cold, so I brought you a bowl.” He explained, setting down a bowl onto Tang's cot next to his hand.
Rick continued his speech as Tang took the bowl, smelling it carefully before taking small sips bit by bit. “I get why you're so high-strung. No one likes being put into time out, doing all these dumb errands while we get ordered around by those damned workers who think they're better than us. You were probably also interrogated, which is no one's favorite thing, and you seem to not know anything about this place or why everyone here is so weird. So scared and alone, I reckon.”
Tang slightly squinted his eyes at the last part, but he just nodded along anyway, finishing the bland soup(? all he knew was that sludge was in a bowl, but it might just be its own ecosystem by now judging by the weird slimy chunks here and there) and setting the bowl back onto the cot.
Rick sat a hand onto Tang's shoulder again after the scholar was finished, letting the lack of flinch be the acceptance he needed as he gripped the shoulder harder. “So~, I have decided to be your guiding light, your navigator, or whatever you want to call me throughout your camp experience! We'll never really be in the direct line of fire, by the way, as we're most likely going to be running around for the people working in the background. So I was thinking I could fill you in on this total mess we call an HQ, and you could stick by me when I need it! So, what do you think?”
Rick stared into Tang’s eyes, a sharp grin on his face as he waited for a response. Tang got a feeling of deja vu yet again. Why do I seem to be involved with more dubious deals than usual? This is starting to become a pattern. A very concerning pattern…
But before Tang could even try to think of a response, a hand dragged Rick’s own off of Tang’s shoulder.
“I think you should stop harassing us new guys. Nothing good will come from forcing us to be your personal errand boys like the workers do to us. A bit hypocritical, don't you think?” An unfamiliar voice spoke out. It seemed familiar to Tang, but he couldn't exactly pinpoint where he'd heard it from. He didn't think too hard about it anyway as Rick's eye twitched annoyance before he started to retort loudly.
“Hah! Please, I was just being friendly to our new member. He would obviously be eaten alive in here unless he had some help from a pro. I was just offering my help, like a good samaritan. Gotta get outta this tent someday, ya know?” He narrowed his eyes as his grin fell slightly.
“It's not like you can talk, either. I haven't seen you around before, so you don't know this place very well. Are you trying to act all heroic in a “noobs stick together” sort of way? ‘Cause that won't end well for you or him in this place, trust me.” Rick spoke with venom, his laid-back tone with Tang vanishing in an instant as he spat at the newcomer.
Now that Tang thinks about it, he hasn't seen this guy in the camp either. He definitely would have remembered this guy, mainly with how bright his eyes were. They were a light yellow, bordering white in some areas, with some wisps of pure black hair falling in front of them from his short, messy hairstyle. His voice was smooth, almost comparable to Cian with how he spoke. He held a grin like Rick, but it didn't seem as sharp as the other's was.
Maybe this guy was one that he had just missed in the chaos of the morning and last night? That was probably it, as Tang didn't remember Rick from the tent until he introduced himself in the bathrooms. Tang just shook his head at that and focussed back into the present when another bell went off throughout the camp, signaling the end of lunch and stopping the two's argument for now.
Rick laughed, but it was one without humor. “Well, I guess it's time for us to go back, huh? I'll let you have this one today, as I really don't want to be put back in the Pound when someone intriguing finally shows up in this tent. You better get moving though, those soldiers really don't like when they're put on Guard Duty, especially when it's just for bums like us.”
Rick waved a hand beside his head as he walked away and took his untouched bowl with him to dump into a trash can outside the tent, shoving the now empty bowl to whichever unsuspecting soldier was closest.
Tang looked away from where Rick had gone and looked to the guy beside him. The cold guy glanced at him for a second, something gleaming in his eyes the scholar couldn't decipher, before silently ignoring his presence and stepping out of the tent himself.
That was weird. What Tang’s only thought before readjusting his cracked glasses and carrying his bowl to the front. The guy with greasy hair stared at him from his own cot as the scholar walked out, his own bowl halfway finished and halfway on the floor. Tang just ignored him, again, and gave his bowl to the soldier beside the trash can.
But before he could actually enter the building again, a soldier grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him around so they were face to face. “Are you Tang?” The woman deadpanned.
“Oh, uh, yes I am. What's the problem?” He answered, nervous he'd already done something to warrant this place’s wrath.
“Your friend finally woke up in the infirmary, and we have some questions we'd like to ask you when we arrive. Now, follow me, and don't go wandering off like some others in your tent; remember that we have eyes everywhere, so keep your hands and feet to yourself. Let's go.”
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Hahahhahahbahbaannahha /vpos /gen /lh
OH MY GOSH!!!! AHHHHHH/pos
Omg thank you!!! I love your drawings of Allan and Tang! Allan jumpscare is just the best. These boys are so traumatized fr. Also, don't worry! Allan isn't dead yet :D
Hello 🕊🙏,
I’m Hani from Gaza 💔, 26 years old. My family and I are living through a humanitarian disaster due to the war 💔😭. We lost our home and all our belongings, and my elderly father 🇵🇸 can no longer support us. My mother is chronically ill and requires constant care 🍉🙏.
Can you reblog my 📌 pinned post on my account?
Every share 🕊❤ helps spread our story and brings us much-needed support 🙏💖. Thank you so much to everyone who helps us by spreading the word.
I am Bilal from Gaza, displaced to Egypt after 150 days of great hardship. I came here with some of my family members, leaving behind most of our loved ones and places of memories.
Life in Egypt is full of challenges. We are here without a residence permit, and prices are very high, making it difficult to secure our basic needs. We try to adapt to the new circumstances, but every day we face new problems.
The longing for Gaza always hurts us. We think of our family and friends who are still there, and every contact with them deepens our sense of distance. Despite all these difficulties, we try to hold on to hope and look for ways to improve our situation.
If you can provide financial support, even if it is small, it will make a huge difference to us in these difficult times: [https://gofund.me/ba5b76e9]
My friends,
🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸❤🤍💚🖤
I am doing what I can to provide a decent and safe life for my children and to provide for their basic needs in light of the poor living conditions we are living in due to the war of extermination, and I hope that you will continue to support me, whether by donating if possible, or by participating and urging friends to donate, as we are very close to half the goal, and there is less than 350€ left to reach it.
I hope to reach it today
Update
Sorry for another late update. I wanted to get it done by tonight, but I was kept away from my writing for longer than I thought I would be. I'll update tomorrow as I have most of it done. Thank you for your patience!
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