I Give Thee, More Tang Doodles!

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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My theory is that Mimzy was once Alastor’s best friend, he maybe even thought he might have been in love with her at one point, in that manner aroace people who don’t know they’re aroace often do, that she was then sacrificed by this cult, and that Alastor had them infiltrated and taken down every member of that cult over decades, losing more and more of himself each time as those he killed grew less and less directly connected to the crime, “sorry you just got in my way, maybe I enjoy it just a little bit does that make me insane”, but that in the act of doing so, that contradiction of righteous intent and pure depravity, along with whatever ritual for power the cult had initially started upon, let’s say in honour of Roo (the root of all evil in the Hellaverse, a character yet to be introduced), and that on Alastor’s eventual death, he then found himself in Hell all-powerful, and set about bringing down those Overlords beneath his power continuing this moral code, until he hit a wall, finding himself having ended all Overlords less powerful than him / otherwise came to his senses on meeting Mimzy again and finding her to have gone to hell, recognising that “weren’t you an old pal of mine” and really nothing more and deciding mere power, entertainment is all he now desires. But that still, out of obligation, that he must kill Lucifer, the Devil, for a sense of completion, while still being allowed to exist himself afterward. Which leads to whatever deal he ended up trapped in seven years before the events of the series, and him getting Charlie to make a deal with him to “harm no one” at a certain point in the future: to ensure that when the time comes that he will be able to kill Lucifer, and the one person able to stop him won’t be able to. To really make Alastor a true Exterminator, more measured, the embodiment of how the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

Huh, interesting take! I didn't think the Insane song was canon, but maybe I was just misinformed. I've never really thought of Alastor having his path of vengence and righteousness leading him towards hell, but I can see a lot of potential with it!

How Alastor had been barely keeping it together in his life already, and the one person he really cares about gets killed by a freaky cult? Yeah, I'd understand his murder spree now.

Maybe the cult ate Mimzy's body for the ritual, and Alastor returned the favor, starting his cannibalistic tendencies. But I'm not sure because Mimzy didn't have any indication of that on her sinner form from what we've seen.

I also saw a similar theory with the exterminator Alastor part, where he might've originally been in heaven, but when forced through the exterminator program, let his violent tendencies take over.

I do like the cult part. Maybe this caused what Alastor was referring to when he had his interlude in the finale song, with red eyes (that I just noticed after a rewatch) following him from his crash sight to the radio tower.

Those eyes look very similar to Roo's concept art. Maybe Roo found him because he killed a lot of her followers and made a contract with him to keep him under her thumb in the long run, making sure he doesn't interrupt her plans again.

A World Without Him

Chapter 4

*2 week time-skip*

Tang was here again. This pitch black void that he can't move, see, or hear anything in.

He knows what's going to happen and that he can't do anything about it.

He can't stop anything that happens here.

He was always stuck.

So he just waits. He waits for it to start, waits for it to drag him down, waits for it to be over.

It doesn't take that long for it to begin like it usually does.

Voices suddenly flood his ears, but it sounds like there's more of them than before. It keeps getting louder and louder until something floods his vision.

The silhouettes that swirl around him seem familiar. He just doesn't know why. They talk and move and prod at him as he stays still: unable to do anything about it.

Then everything returns to void. Silence is all that he can hear.

Here it comes, he thinks.

He can feel the hands before they even touch him. Rushing from the depths as they grab at his ankles, pulling him deeper and deeper again.

Even though Tang knows he can't do anything against it, he flails anyway. Fighting the hands as they slowly overcome him. He still thrashes and kicks anyway.

He can't just do nothing over and over again.

But it's all fruitless as he gets dragged farther and farther down.

Then everything becomes bright.

Too bright.

The hands become more violent, dragging him down faster to escape the bright orange encompassing his vision.

The light is faster, however, as it catches up in a matter of seconds, covering everything.

Some hands let go immediately, while some still holding on seem to almost... disintegrate?

The light is almost unbearable as it keeps getting brighter and brighter.

Then Tang wakes up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He shoots up in bed with a cold sweat. He looks outside and sees it's still dark in the sky.

Tang takes a deep breath, then sighs before trying to think too much. It's a dream. Just a dream. Nothing is wrong with him. He's ok.

He reaches for his glasses on the nightstand before slipping on some slippers near the foot of the bed.

He's been having this dream more often lately: every night for the past week, to be exact. Nothing's ever different no matter what he tries.

He does nothing: he gets dragged.

He tries to move away: he gets dragged.

He fights the hands: he gets dragged.

But that's why he's confused. What was different about this time? Why was he "saved" from those hands this dream?

Stop, he tells himself. Nothing's going to come from thinking about it too much.

'This is bad. We can't let this happen again.'

Oh, great, another voice. Lovely. He thinks before pulling himself to a standing position.

He slowly walks to the kitchen to get some caffeine in him. Tang needs to wake himself up. He finds some coffee tabs lying on the counter from running straight to Pisgy's yesterday.

Huffing a small laugh at his own negligence, he picks one up as he changes the water in the coffee maker, and puts the tab in with a mug underneath that reads "I like my coffee black, like my SOUL" printed on it.

As he waits, he looks out the nearby window across the living room with a small crack between the curtains.

The city seems to be glowing with all the neon signs and lights from the lively cityscape below. He can hear faint voices of people out partying in the club two buildings down and can faintly see some people walk down the streets in front of his apartment.

Tang unconsciously walks toward the lights, finding comfort in them. Everything has basically come back to normal after LBD's reign, and people seem ok walking the roads at night again.

But still, he can't help but look in the shadows of his apartment, seeing if anything will jump out at him.

"Ah!" He screams when the beeping of the coffee machine reaches his ears, dragging him out of his thoughts.

Tang sags in relief as he goes to get his fresh coffee. After having that happen all week, you'd think he'd get used to the beeping after a while.

After grabbing the mug, he goes over to the living room couch. He looks back out the window and pulls the curtains back a bit more, letting more of the fluorescent light inside.

He picks up one of the discarded books on the coffee table, takes a sip of his coffee, and then starts to read again.

It's not like he had anywhere to be. Pisgy's night quickly got canceled after it was clear the kids wouldn't show due to training, work, or demon attacks, and Pisgy started to get an influx of business again from people feeling safer to go out after, well, everything.

Tang wasn't social to begin with, so everything just blurred after that. He never went out for fun, just necessities, and wasn't invited to things that often, either.

Money also wasn't really an issue for him, as he had some savings from his archeology days and some money from the military fund for day to day things.

So what should Tang do with all this new free time? Read, of course! As that was the only thing he could think of enjoying at the moment.

But, as fate allows it, Tang actually had something to do today. Grocerie shopping! Woooooo...

He groans as he leans back into the couch. He pulls himself up and decides to go out and get them now. Why? Because he doesn't want to be stuck with his thoughts: at least this early, anyway.

He chugs his coffee, throws the mug in the sink, and just slips his coat with some shoes over his pajamas. He's going out at this hour: he doubts people would care about him wearing some sweatpants and a band shirt with some sneakers out.

He feels the breeze when he walks out the front door of his building. He immediately starts to walk towards the 24/7 convenience store down the road.

The door rings as he pushes it open, and Tang beelines to the veggie and soup section.

He grabs a bit of everything, a few extra potato chips because why not, and heads towards the counter, barely holding onto everything.

'We need to tell ______ now. This has ____ on long ______.'

He quickly dumps everything on the counter. The teen working the counter looks unimpressed. "Do you have a rewards card?" She asked in a bored tone.

"Yup." Tang replies, popping the p before scanning the rewards card.

He looks outside as he waits. Seeing everyone walk in the streets, watching if anyone looks suspicious. He looks around the corners of the shop, too.

'Nothing' Next corner. 'Just some dust.' Next corner. 'Nothing.' Far end of window. 'Movement, but it's just some-'

"Your total is $134 and nine cents."

He jumps to face the cashier. "Oh. Yeah, uh, give me a sec." He fumbles his wallet for a minute, then swipes the card a bit clumsily.

"Have a nice night, morning? Eh, whatever." The teen grumbles before looking back on her phone.

Tang just grabs his stuff and leaves as fast as he can. He walks briskly along the sidewalk, occasionally glancing over his shoulder.

He finally takes a breath when he's back at his apartment. He takes off his shoes before going inside and just throwing the bags onto the counter.

He checks his phone before sitting down: no new messages. He sighs before putting it down to charge.

Then he just sits on the couch for a second. He doesn't want to eat, doesn't want to sleep, doesn't want to do anything right now.

So that's what he does. He just does nothing, staring at the ceiling, unmoving until he can see the daylight flowing from the window.

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A World Without Him

Chapter 8

(TW minor violence against furniture and some self-loathing thoughts)

Tang could hear the voices through the piles of broken bookshelves and ceiling bits. He didn't think they were hallucinations, as they got more frantic near his safe area and how he heard big pieces being carefully dragged outside.

He didn't know what to do. It wasn't like he could move all the layers covering him himself. Maybe if he yelled out, someone could finally hear him.

"H-hello?! Is anyone out there?!" He shouted with a shakey voice. Almost right after, he could hear the talking stop and someone sprinting over the rubble towards his area.

"Hey there; I'm with the Metrapolis first responders! Where are you?!" A woman yelled out into the crash site.

Tang scrambles up to the edge of his collapsed prison. "I'm down here! There's lots of debris covering me, but I'm alright! Please try digging to my left first. My friend is down there, and please hurry!" He yelled with a bit of desperation.

"Ok, stay there and don't move sir! We'll have more people here soon to clear all this out!" She shouted in response, most likely sprinting towards where the ceiling fell...

Tang decided to stop that train of thought. He needed to wait for the backup to arrive; someone to haul him out of here. Like always, he supposes.

So he waits. The unusual silence gives way to the grating of stone, wood, and drywall as he knows they're digging out Allan. He'll be okay. Tang stopped him from running right underneath the collapsed ceiling, so he's still alive. He must be.

Tang also knew when reinforcements arrived. The harsher steps from heavy-duty boots along with the many steps he hears overlap basically gave them away.

He stayed silent, though, so as not to disturb the now very delicate shell of debris surrounding him.

He waited for a while before he could hear a big chunck getting thrown from his left and on top of his area. The added weight caused pieces to break off and his "ceiling" to give way, now with it barely crushing his skull.

He gasped, then coughed from the debris that was shaken loose, covering him in a layer of dust. Pieces of splintered wood and some jagged metal now stick out in the corners.

More yelling started after that. Tang mostly just focused on his breathing again.

When he got back to his senses yet again, he heard picks and gloved hands clawing at his barrier of debris.

He almost cried in relief as the moonlight stone through the new cracks in his dome. He slowly watched as the hole got bigger and bigger, with more and more hands helping to carefully dig him out.

Once the hole was big enough, someone reached their hand down for Tang to grab. He gripped it tightly as he was slowly risen out of his confines.

He blinked at the sudden change in light, still out of it from his time trapped in that place. He was suddenly coerced to an emergency vehicle in the library parking lot, seeing the many paramedics wheeling in people from the library storage area.

He looked at his surroundings as they walked; he could see the ceiling was in total shreds at this point, with the standing walls looking like swiss cheese.

All the people who made it to the storage unit gained only minor injuries, as they all seemed to be walking, talking, and didn't have any blood on them.

As he continued to move towards the emergency vehicle, the ground covered in rubble turned to concrete as they made it to the sidewalk. He could feel his shoulder throbbing with pain as he sat down for the medics on site.

They did everything routinely, giving him a shock blanket, testing his cognitive ability, and so what. "You're all right, sir. Your shoulder just needs padding, and no sudden movements for it to heal up properly. You're very lucky, and you can go back to your residence now."

Tang just nodded in response, seeing them walk back towards another shock patient. He slumped into himself and took off his glasses, rubbing his temple.

Why couldn't I ever do something right, he thought. His thoughts stirred to Allan. Is he really okay? I should've done better. What if he's dead?! He can't be. He'll be okay. He'll be fine. You'll be fine.

He grumbled to himself, stopping his train of thought. He put his glasses back on and stood up, looking out for any free paramedics to ask about Allan.

He had only taken a few steps before a group of paramedics came barreling into the parking lot, rushing past him with many of them hurrying a gurney to the closest ambulance.

Tang could only catch a glimpse of the patient, but he saw their hoodie. Tang almost threw up when he saw him. It was Allan. Allan, who now had a severed leg. The bloody end of his leg dripped red liquid down onto the ground, with the jagged bone jutting out the end.

"Allan!" Tang yelled out, running up to the gurney. He was held back by the other paramedics, their words becoming jumbled as he only focused on Allan.

The rest of him didn't look much better from what Tang could see. Many scrapes and bruises covered his arms and legs, with debris covering his entire body. His eyes were glassed over with his matted hair falling on top of them. But he still had a heartbeat, even if it was a faint one.

Tang could have sworn he saw those eyes look towards him, but then the ambulance doors were closed before he could do anything else, the vehicle speeding off after they backed Tang away from getting hit.

All Tang could do was watch as they drove away, with another paramedic guiding him to a place to sit down. He had asked where the ambulance would drop off Allan so he could see him, but he was denied as he wasn't a guardian or family member.

So he walked away, back through the now dark sidewalk, and on his way home. His steps were sluggish, moving slowly as his mind went blank.

His body moved on its own as he walked into the building, up the many flights of stairs, and took out his keys to unlock his apartment.

He locked the door immeadietly after he got inside, taking off his shoes and throwing them at the wall. His other things got lost in the rubble...

Yeah, go and worry about your precious sketch book and comics as Allan is in the hospital.

Tang grimaced and looked at his apartment, everything tidy and stacked together in organized piles from his morning spree.

You were a hassle yet again. Always being dragged along because of your own incompetence.

Everything in his apartment seemed wrong. Too clean, too tidy, too nice for someone like Tang.

If you weren't there, maybe Allan would have made it to the storage room.

He didn't like the look of the room.

He could have been safe instead of carrying your weak ass around that library.

He walked up his coffee table, a vase with a single flower, and two stacks of books and papers on top of the brittle table.

He might have made it out alive if you didn't have him die-

He violently grabbed the glass vase and threw it against an empty wall.

*CRASH*

Glass scatters everywhere, some of the pieces embedding into his flimsy walls. Some even nicked Tang, but he didn't notice yet. The water from it coated the wall in a dark color.

It's your fault.

His heartbeat pounded through his ears. He took the pile papers next, ripping his useless scribbles up repeatedly until they became only scraps. His shoulder throbs with pain.

He's injured, and it's your fault.

He runs to his books after, taking handfuls and throwing them in every which way. Some hit picture frames, scattering even more glass, while some hit his other piles, causing them to tip and fall over with books, clothes, and other trinkets.

He's dead because of YOU.

"SHUT, UP!" Tang yelled. He swung his hand down onto the coffee table with startling accuracy. A sickening crunch resounded through his apartment. He could feel his tears run hot against his face.

He gasped.

The coffee table was now split in two, the impact of his hand steaming from small embers on the splintered wood. His eyes widened as he looked to his balled up hand. It had a faint orange hue.

But as Tang blinked, it was gone. Yet, when he looked back at the table, it was still steaming, just now simmering down to a small smoke.

Now, only his labored breathing could be heard as he stood still in the middle of his apartment. He could only stare at the destruction he had caused.

Now this looks perfect.

He smacked his own forehead, dragging his hand down his face. He wiped his eyes as a small breeze blew through the apartment. Maybe one of the windows got dislodged from his episode.

Tang sighed heavily before stepping carefully around the mess he made, flopping onto the ragged couch that somehow survived. His phone jumped up from his added weight before hitting the glass covered floor.

Oh, yeah. I threw it there this morning when it died...

Tang sighed slightly before picking his phone off the floor, dusting off tiny glass shards, and pressing the power button. Nothing came up. He grumbled before trekking over to his bedroom and plugging it into the charger.

He threw his glasses on his bedside table before falling face first onto his bed. The blurred shapes of his room comforted him as he rolled onto his back.

His eyes felt droopy as the colors around blurred even more. They shifted and coerced into a soft sunset orange-

*BANG, BANG, BANG*

"Tang! You better open this door RIGHT NOW!"

Tang sat up quickly, breathing fast as the knocking continued. He scrambled up and out of his bed before running to the front door, careful not to step on anymore scraps on his messy floor.

He opened the door right before his guest could harshly knock yet again. He almost had to dodge the pink fist coming his way before it pulled back suddenly.

Pigsy on all his glory stood outside Tangs door with a very peeved look on his face. Tang doesn't know if he could handle being berated for whatever he had apparently done to Pigsy after everything today.

But to his surprise, Pigsy's expression quickly turned to one of deep concern as he looked Tang up and down. "What is it, Pigsy?" Tang asked in a scratchy voice.

Pigsy didn't respond for a good minute. But when he did, almost nothing could stop that man's wrath as he started to stomp into Tang's apartment. "What the hell happened to you, Tang?! Everyone has been texting and calling you, and you never picked up! And now you look like total shit with your outfit in complete shambles! We couldn't reach you through anything, and I had to come up her myself-"

Tang hurridly pulled Pigsy back from his apartment carpet, with Pigsy now fully aware of the new "decor" he had recently put in.

Pigsy was seemingly about to go on another rant after a brief glance at his apartment, but Tang quickly hushed him. "Please, Pigsy. I don't think I can handle anything else happening today. I feel like absolute shit, I got stuck under a building for hours, and all I want right now is some peace and quiet. I promise to talk to you about this tomorrow, but for now, just give me a day, please."

Pigsy seemed conflicted at this, looking at Tang, and then past him at his apartment a few times. He eventually sighs in defeat but quickly puts up some gusto. "Tomorrow. Come by tomorrow in the morning, and you'll tell me everything. If I don't see you by noon, I'll go here and drag you there myself."

Tang just smiles at Pigsy; it's a bit strained but still genuine. "Thank you." Tang says softly. Pigsy just nodded, looking sadly at Tang as he closed the door.

Tang leaned onto the door, making sure that Pigsy's footsteps were actually leaving before letting out a breath of relief.

When he finally made it back to his bed, Tang was convinced he could drop in a heartbeat if he fell onto his bed right now.

But of course, he never got the chanceas his phone came alight and buzzed like over and over after it finally powered back on. He startled a bit, sighed, and then picked up his phone before sitting at the edge of his bed.

His phone had been blowing up with messages, missed calls, and... ads about textbook sales? Tang quickly saved the ad for later before looking through his call list.

Through his cracked phone screen, he just huffed when he saw about 26 missed calls.

Most of them were from Pigsy, with 6 from Sandy, three from Mei, and one from Mk. He hesitated a second before opening his texts. He winced as he saw there were over 40 unread messages.

Some were from the group chat, most of the first ones being pictures of Mk after the library fight holding up cheese tea a block from the library...

Tang scrolled past the pictures and instead looked for his name in any of the unread texts. He found out he was only mentioned after Mk specified where he had his most recent fight.

🌟 The Gang 🌟

8:08 PM

Mk: Yeah! It wss a HUGE guy witha a weird lookin sword this time

Pigsy: you sure you're doing ok kid?

Mk: yes im fine

Mk: the ppace we fought is in way worse shape thogh

Mei: Mk's right. When I went to pick him up, the place had been rly totaled! With the ceiling completely destroyed 'nd the walls left in complete shambles!

Sandy: Was everyone involved okay???

Mei: don't worry sm Sandy

Mei: Mk saw everyone head to the DA shelter, and they all came out fine afterwards

Mk: yeah at least the guy I fought had some sense not to aim for the flor

Pigsy: they had an entire shelter ready? Where did you even fight, kid?

Mk: it was at the Metrapolis Library

Mk: im so sad too because I can't get anymore comics from that place for awhile

Pigsy: Wait, isn't that where Tang started working a day ago?

Mei: oh yeah! I didn't see him come out of the DA shelter tho

Sandy: has anyone contacted him since yesterday?

8:09 PM

Pigsy: everyone try calling him

8:11 PM

Sandy: Tang hasn't responded to my texts or calls

Mk: i ended up having to call after texting him so many times nd he didn't pick up

Mei: he hasn't responded to me either

Pigsy: I'll keep calling him to see if he'll pick up

8:17 PM

Pigsy: he hasn't responded even once

Mk: does anyone know where he is?

Sandy: maybe someone should go to his apartment?

Mei: he has his own apartment????

Pigsy: I'm going up there to see him. I'll tell you guys if he responds or if he's even there

Tang turned off his phone after reading the last text. He could only sigh at the messages before moving to turn off all his lights, sweep most of the scattered glass to the sides, and close the open window.

When he finally got to fall onto his bed again, all he could think about was Allan. If he was okay, if he was alive, and if he could find a way to find him again.

Well, he should try that tomorrow after Pigsy's. I could try to ask about his name in any of the nearby hospitals... maybe if I... try enough of them...

And then Tang succumbed to his exhaustion, falling into a deep sleep as his world went black.

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Hello! Guess who finally got motivation to write? I'll be posting chapters on Tumblr for now until i can FINALLY get an ao3 account.

CHAPTER 1

-About 2 months after LBD defeat-

Nothing.

Everything around him was just void. No color, no feeling, just, nothing.

He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't see, couldn't hear, anything.

He was stuck.

So he waited. Waited for something to happen. Something to change the endless black around him, so he could feel anything again.

Then everything became too much.

Overwhelming colors and sounds suddenly filled the area. Voices overlapped, and silhouettes blended together.

He could hear people speaking, to him or to someone else he didn't know.

They suddenly got louder, and the colors got brighter as they burned into his vision.

He could suddenly feel hands grabbing his ankles, trying to pull him down to somewhere.

The voices didn't stop, they only got louder as more and more hands tried to pull him down.

He started to thrash and pull away, but he couldn't escape. Every hand that let go, two more would start to drag him down in their place.

He felt hopeless. He felt useless. He felt weak.

He was stuck.

But still, he continued to thrash, kick, bite, anything just to slow down his fate.

Maybe his efforts would amount to something, maybe all the work he's put in will let him feel anything, or at least get away from them.

He was scared. Scared of what would happen if they dragged him down far enough, scared of what he would become after.

He. Was. Stuck.

Now all he felt was anger. At this stupid situation, at them, and at himself. He couldn't do anything at the end of it all.

So he became engrossed in his thoughts, as the hands reached his head, and his vision turned black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tang shot up from his desk. He looked franticly around where he woke up.

He realised he was at The Metrapolis Library. The section near the back, where most of the architecture and city records were located, with only a small lamp for light among the shelves.

"Dang, not again..." Tang groaned as he started to look through the scattered papers and opened books laid on his desk.

That dream... wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Tang. He seemed to always have it when he fell asleep at the library, or when he passed out after reading too many articles before bed.

It was never a pleasant experience, so he usually didn't try to think about that dream after waking up.

Tang finally decided to check his phone when an alarm went off while he was putting away The Mythos Sites: Professional Study.

He set that alarm for an event at the library tomorrow so he could leave 5 minutes early to avoid the crowds. Apparently he set it a day early. Just great.

He groaned in annoyance, but when he went to turn it off, he saw the time, and then started to panic.

"Aw crap! Nonononono-" Tang then started to clean up faster as he was apparently late for the weekly noodle night at Pigsy's.

This was a night every Friday that Sandy, Mei, Mk, Pigsy, Tang, sometimes including Red Son or Wukong, where they would all come to Pigsy's at a set time and then just hang out and talk for an entire evening.

This wasn't high scale or anything like that, but it was important to Tang. This was the one day of the week he would finally see everyone for once.

Mk seemed to almost always be either hanging out with Mei and/or Red Son, training, fighting demons, or delivering orders for Pigsy. He barely got to talk to Mk even when he was 'Freeloading' (as Pigsy would call it) at Pigsy's.

Everyone else also seems have their own things going on. Pigsy obviously has the shop, and now he seems to have more customers than ever after the whole LBD situation, so he usually has less time to talk, inside and outside of his restaurant.

Mei is usually just hanging out and having fun, but will almost never answer texts when she's 'in the zone' with video games, streaming, or anything else, which has been almost her entire mood lately.

The only one he really does talk to more than once a week is Sandy. But Tang does stay at home most of the time while Sandy also barely leaves his boat as is.

So you can understand why Tang is speeding towards Pigsy's with apologies and excuses about to tumble out as he crashes through the doors.

"Phew... Hey *huff* sorry I'm... *huff* late again!" Tang yells as he lays his messenger bag down and sits on one of Pigsy's stools.

Tang starts to stretch as he looks around Pigsy's. He then notices that the only other people in the restaurant are Pigsy and Sandy.

"Hey Sandy, where's everyone else?" Tang asks as he goes to sit down with Sandy at one of Pigsy's tables.

"Oh, hello Tang! We were worried you wouldn't show up!" Sandy exclaimed as Pigsy came out from the kitchen, noodles in hand.

"Hey Tang. Yeah, the kids left after Mk got a demon attack notification, and Mei followed after him. So it's just been me and Sandy for a bit." Pigsy said as he sat down with them.

"I missed them?! Aw, I haven't seen them all week! I at least wanted to see how they were doing." Tang then grabbed his own bowl of noodles, eating with a sour look on his face.

"It's ok, Tang! Maybe you can join them in something else? We all know you've been pretty couped up recently." Sandy said as he started to brew his own tea to go with the noodles.

"Maybe, but I'm not sure there's anything we can do together, especially with all of Mk and Mei's new responsibilities and my own... uh, research I've been engrossed in." Tang sighs as he pushes away the now empty bowl.

"That's why I'm always excited for this hangout every week. It's some of my only time to see you guys and for all of us to have a break from everything. And who can say no to free noodles from Pisgy's?" Tang smirks as Pisgy chuckled a little and murmured something along the lines of "freeloader. "

"I guess I can't argue with that. But don't worry, Tang, I bet that those kids will be here next time." Pisgy says as he puts an arm around Tangs shoulders.

Tang smiles softly at Pigsy, "Yeah, I hope so."

After that exchange, they trio hung around a little longer, talking about their days and interesting things that happened in their own time.

But of course, these things eventually come to an end, so Sandy and Tang eventually left to let Pisgy close up shop.

Sandy and Tang then have their goodbyes outside of Pisgy's and went their own ways.

Tang walked along cracked sidewalks on his way home. Streetlights lighting almost every section.

It was an oddly quiet night. No music, no yelling from demon fights or otherwise, and no bright lights shining in his face.

It was calm. It was nice.

'What are we going to do about him?'

It was too nice to last, apparently.

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This is me Aya.. ‏🇵🇸

suddenly you wake up with nothing left.That's exactly what happened with us .we moved from having everything to having nothing.In a blink of an eye ,we lost everything, our house ,dreams,

memories belongings and our works. We are starting from zero and need your help to climb the leader step by step from scratch.

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Please continue to support us by donating directly or by sharing the link to let others know. Don't hesitate to help people in difficult and miserable times until the dark days are over. 🙏🏻🍉

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‎‏Dear friends, Beloved family, and kind hearts, I come to you with a heavy heart a… Ahmed Almajdoub needs your support for Help Aya's famil

A World Without Him

Chapter 9

(TW a lot of blood, slight suicidal thoughts, and unsettling imagery)

Tang knew he was no longer in his bed. The calm darkness was replaced with an atmosphere of suffocation: like if he were to move even an inch, he would trigger something to happen. Everything just felt wrong.

He already knew this wouldn't end well for him. Every time he ended up in this dreamlike state, it always ended up in him getting dragged some way or another. He didn't think he could handle something like that again. Not right now.

But he also knew whatever was in store for him would always begin eventually; no matter what he did, something always happened to him. So, he decided instead of sitting still with his eyes closed like a sitting duck, he would try to figure out where he was first, at least.

So then, he slowly opened his eyes to a strikingly blank room. A very different start to most of his dreams. A steril, white space greeted him; the room had no windows and yellow fluorescent lights. The bland seats and decor didn't take away from the emptiness he felt from this place.

The room felt suffocating. He didn't know if he could keep still. He couldn't breathe.

Suddenly, a door opened to his right, and a tall man with a white coat walked out steddily. His footsteps were silent, and his badge was weirdly in focus with the letters MSH spread across its side in golden ink. Was there a door there before? I didn't think...

But before he could continue his train of thought, the doctor(?) spoke to him curtly. "I'm afraid he had lost too much blood. We couldn't find the rest of his leg, so we couldn't even try reattachment without a donor. We tried our best to keep him stable, but we weren't able to save him." The voice was muffled: as if it were underwater.

"...What?" Tang asked hesitantly. He really didn't know what he's doing here in the first place. Also, he didn't even know anyone who was in the hospital to dream about! The last thing he remembers was his quiet walk to the library and...

Barely anything had happened after that, with the norm of setting up shop at the library, and then lounging around with a few people checking out the occasional book. Everything was fine! The last thing he even remembered from work was rambling and sharing comics with... Allan.

Allan, Allan.... what happened? I dont know why I keep thinking about him...

Something horrible suddenly hit Tang's nose, causing him to cough a few times. A sickening smell of copper and rot started coming from the door. He shot his head towards the source and saw how it was now mangled and covered in red splotches. Blood gushed out from under it as the crimson liquid encompassed the entire checkered floor.

Tang was all but frozen in place as all he could do was stare in horror. Then everything came rushing back like a punch to the gut. Blood had slowly dripped down onto the parking lot and stained its path a striking red. The blank look in his eyes as he was rolled away to who knows where-

Oh my god, ALLAN!

Tang then sprung out of his chair and rushed past where the doctor used to be, splashing the red onto his pant legs as he ran without care. As soon as he made it to the rotting door, he slammed it open and saw many nurses standing eerily still, parting for him and making a straight path ahead down the long hallway. Their eyes were blank as they stared into his head.

But he didnt notice. All he could think about was running. Getting there in time before something happened. Getting there before they were gone. Getting there before they STOPPED BREATHING-

He could feel the red slowly creep up his ankles. As he kept running faster and faster, the blood slowly rose higher and higher with him. The nurses surrounding him began to wane as the walls got closer and closer. They seemed almost like statues.

That was until Tang saw it at the end of the long hallway. A hospital bed holding a thin figure with a slowing heart rate. The slow beeps echoed throughout the hall. The remaining nurses around him then started to melt into crimson mush as their eyes pierced into his back.

Tangs eyes widened, and he somehow forced himself to go faster. "Allan! Allan, please respond!" He pleaded, continuing his sprint to the still figure. The shapes of its body remained eerily still and unresponsive to the noise.

No. No, no, no. Not again. I can't have this happen again. No. You have to get up. Please.

"Please get up, Allan! I know you're in there! Just wake up!" Tang yelled as he got closer and closer. The red on the floor was now rushing against his legs while rising faster and faster.

Up and up it got as Tang kept running for what seemed like an endless hallway. The blood was up to his calves at this point, but nothing was hindering his descent in the slightest.

That was until something tried to grab onto his pant cuff from under all the red. Tang didn't notice the slight tug at first, too busy putting one foot in front of another.

That was until more tried to do the same.

FUCK. Why now why now why now!?!?!? He had finally noticed after the hands lifted above the murky crimson surface that were trying to grab onto more than just a pant cuff.

The hospital bed was now nowhere in sight; it had faded from view. Now it's just an endless hallway full of blood and shining red hands grabbing at him from under the bloody floor.

His stress levels had hightened as the blood began to rush against his legs, causing more force to push him back into the hands. Even through his hysteria, Tang knew he couldn't keep the pace for much longer. More and more hands kept slinking up from the crimson depths that he doubted if he could even make it to the next step.

And he was right.

A sudden burst from the ground threw Tang and a wave of red back towards the now hundreds of shining hands. He landed on his back as he was blinded by the crimson liquid. The shockwave of red flew over him and he was submerged; he choked on the metalic substance as he was thrown further and further back.

When he was finally dropped harshly onto the bloody concrete floor, the hands had disappeared, and all that was left was him, the red hallway, and the thing in front of him. Blood dripped from his brow as he looked up to what had thrown him back.

And now he wishes he had kept his eyes closed. He didn't know what he was looking at, but he knew that it was dangerous. The humanoid figure stood floating above the gap in the ground with a continuous buzzing, which was the only thing he could hear.

The area where it came from was now stretched beyond recognition; the floor had been splintered badly where the thing stood. The red now rushed forward instead of against him, slowly pouring into the new hole that goes to... somewhere he doesn't want to know.

Tang could feel it rush past him and lulling forward, though the force never moved him even an inch. It felt more like a familiar breeze than gallons of blood rushing forward into some vacant void. His breaths were slow and deliberate as they echoed in his ears.

He could've collapsed right then and there if he could. The red ran out through the hole, and all that was left were puddles instead of the hulking mass it used to be.

But something just always took away any peace he had. Before he could even think of closing his eyes, the figure in front of him burst open with a loud bang. "AHHH!" Tang had yelled in surprise as the pieces flew over him.

Wait, flew?

He quickly looked back to where the body had been before. The top half is completely gone and buzzing loudly with something crawling around the figure.

You have got to be kidding me... he thought, exasperated. He could see each and every individual bug on the body; everything glowed a soft orange that burned into his gaze.

Tang was tired. Tired of these stupid dream sequences, tired of whatever God decided to make his real life hell, and tired of how he wasn't able to stop any of it. Everything went on without him. Nothing would change if he were gone. Nothing would be different now than if he had just disappeared under that rubble.

A sudden woosh from in front of him was all the warning he got before swarms and swarms of orange surrounded him. They crawled along his clothes, whispered into his ears, pulled him up and forward.

His heartbeat echoes through his head as he suddenly knows he had moved. Now he was falling. Falling and falling through the endless void under his dreams. Nothing would stop his descent. Nothing would be there for his two fall onto. No one was coming for him. He closed his eyes.

...

...

...

He suddenly felt warmth surround him. A solid surface under his weight. Something had caught him.

Tang could feel the surface move, bringing him up and out of wherever he had been before. The air felt lighter, almost as if the world was encompassed in the suns rays.

Yet everything still felt restless. An anticipation so great is glowered on the prison itself.

Prison?....

Suddenly, an unwelcome voice entered his head.

Yes. Why don't you open your eyes for me? I've been waiting for something like this, you know.

And Tang didn't know why he followed along. Why he felt compelled to open his eyes and look forward. Yet he did so without hesitation.

He was in the palm of its hand. The orange, glowing hand that held him like a delicate flower. Dark shackles were attached to its wrists, slowing its movements.

Yet that didn't stop it from looking down onto him with its big, beady eyes. It seemingly looked into his soul, seeing through him with an almost smug air around it. The cicada head and the multitude of wings behind it just added to the unrealness of the situation.

But then it just smiled, or what could even be considered a smile for something like that.

You're perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the first time in a month, Tang felt well rested. He eyes were glued shut with exhaustion, yet his mind felt clear. His memories if the dream felt foggy, yet calming and nostalgic.

He had checked the time on his dying phone and even found out that he had gotten up at a reasonable tike for once! Given, it was only 7:00 AM, but this was better than usual.

Then that peace, his so fragile peace that seemed to always get broken every chapter, got shattered when the smell of smoke entered his nose.

That got him up and out of bed as he quickly threw off the sheets and saw how the edges of his blanket had been burned slightly. The wisps of ash flew up and out the open window; a slight breeze flowed through the room, taking them away.

He could only try to pat the charred edges with his hand to put the small flames out. The window had been opened again, and he swore he had closed it yesterday. But then again, almost everything from yesterday was hazy.

After he made sure his blanket wasn't going to burn his bedroom down, he slinked out of bed and threw the blanket into trash beside the kitchen. It bunched up over the already overflowing can, but stayed in place.

Tang carefully maneuvered around his ruined living room, dodging any stray pieces of glass or splinters sticking out of the carpet. He jumped straight onto his couch and reached for a random book on his messy floor.

The one he had picked up was one of his favorites: The Origins of JTTW. This had always been the most accurate in a sense of real archeology used in the sources along with many scholarly accounts backing the piece up.

It was also his first book in his collection. Something from a long time ago that someone else definitely would have kept in a box or charity.

He absent-mindedly flipped through the pages: seeing the same images and the same words in the same order over and over again tends to give you a sense of what to expect.

Then, a familiar face came into view. Something that jolted his foggy memory. A bipedal, golden cicada in long robes stood as the focus of this page. The many limbs and wings attached to its body couldn't be mistaken for anything else as the rest of his dream faded away into his mind.

Tang's eyes shot wide as he continued down the page. The power of resurrection. A disciple of Buddha. A being of chaos. A sign of transition and renewal.

Things kept getting more complicated as he finished reading the page. He knew that dreams were random: that they didn't have any special meaning behind them. And yet, why did this feel so important?

He didn't want to think too much about it. But now that he's... got more free time, he wants to figure out what's going on: why he keeps having these dreams, how he was able to split that table in half, and the voices he kept hearing after LBD's defeat (that had gone silent recently). He wanted answers.

I don't know what's going on. Heck, I don't even know if I'm going insane or not, but I'm going to find more. I need to figure out what's wrong with me.

And with that new stack of determination, Tang prepared a small backpack (where did his messanger bag go?) and headed off back outside with a new goal I mind.

Hopefully, this trip will be the first of his kind to go somewhat smoothly.

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This is so good!!!! I especially love the staff!

I was at another con today and took more pics in my Tang cosplay, so might as well post them :)