My Friends,

Good Omens Season 2 Ending Drabbles

Spoilers ahead for Good Omens Seaon 2

I have just watched the entirety of Good Omens season 2 and what I want to say is... am I the only one that thinks Aziriphale went with the Head of Heaven guy (forgot his name/title/whatever) to easily?

Like I know that he had those longing glances and the whole talk and the KISS, but, it just seems a bit... off, to me.

Like, I think Aziraphale is so much smarter than that, even with his naivety towards heaven, because of all his growth from seasons 1 AND 2. He got to see a bit of the underbelly of heaven and obviously didn't like what they were doing.

Also, I initially though Aziraphale was gonna legit be kidnapped again or something when he went with the heaven official (still can remember that dudes name/title/whatever). He had sinister music coming off him when they went out the door, and had hateful glances towards Aziraphale and Crowley, like twice! That guy is so shady and since we didn't see the full conversation between him and Aziraphale, i think he did SOMETHING to Azi.

Aziraphale seemed to uptight, or maybe anxious, after his 'high of being back in heaven'. He seemed to want to say something, ANYTHING that would at least agree with Crowley, but he couldn't even nod or hum in agreement. Even when Crowley said something he should obviously agree on.

Their nightingale song also started to play after the argument and Crowleys line, maybe to signify that Aziraphale does REALLY want to go with him, playing their song saying that he agrees, even if he can't show it.

He seemed to be holding back tears, maybe trying to convey his true emotions with his eyes, but just couldn't for whatever reason. (My bets on Heaven Official guy)

And my final point, at the end where Aziraphale is about to go down the elevator. My initial thought, like everyone else's, was that he was doing his final decision of Crowley or Heaven, and chose to have his 'life' back.

But, maybe it was something more. The direct, long glance towards Crowley mightive been one last call for help, hoping Corwley could steal him away again. When it was clear Crowley was only their to see Aziraphale go and uproot the life they made together on earth, to see if he would really 'choose his old life than their life', he sighed and reluctantly got into the elevator.

Also, a little thing, the Heaven Official guy seemed a bit pushy. Taking Aziraphale away from his companions as soon as possible, saying he's the only right fit for the place of Archangel, and then saying so many nice things about the job, mostly things about getting to stay with Crowley that we don't even know are true. I just get a bad feeling from him.

Anyway, I loved this season we all have been waiting patiently for, for FOREVER, and I can't wait to see what happens in the Totally Coming Out season 3 that's coming up. I was already squealing when Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy played on Corwley's radio while going to save Aziraphale, so you bet I did the whole screaming and kicking when they FREAKING KISSED. I never in my life thought it would be cannon but IT IS, and I LOVE IT! I obviously was heartbroken at the end and was emotionally numb for a few moments, but that's what everyone probably experienced at that ending. I'll be patiently waiting for season 3.

TL;DR: I don't think this is something Aziraphale would do so quickly, like in just an afternoon and one meeting with little to no questions asked nor answered. I think something must've gone on in the conversation bits we didn't see and any alone time between Aziraphale and the Heaven Official guy.

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.

Previous | Next | Start

Tang doodle!

This is his regular outfit in Soul Searching. For him, it has faster movement and is better for agility. The weapon design isn't concrete as I just wanted him holding a fancy looking spear.

I give thee, more Tang doodles!

I put more effort into this as it's more like a character sheet than anything. I also made a weapon design I am happy with! I think it fits Tang well. (also, don't mention how drastically inconsistent my style is. It just morphs whenever I try to draw this guy I guess)

Also, here are some close-ups of the writing. If you can't read my chicken scratch, then it is listed under the images.

Image 1: Wrapped hands

You don't wanna know how long this man(?) spent annotating this thing

Image 2: weapon from dead friend

Oooo, spooky

A World Without Him

Chapter 23

Tang doesn't know how long he was trapped for, but he knows it's been long enough, and he wants out. Turns out being stuck with only your own annoying, crazy, and self deprecating thoughts starts to grate on your nerves after a couple hours(?) of nothing but earworms and existential dread coming in regularly.

He would actually prefer some of those voices that were usually here by now, even the hands around his ankles, maybe even the stupid buzzing if it could drown out his own inner voice and get him to wake up. He just couldn't stand all these thoughts and he was just so tired of this place-

A sudden burst shut him up. It was back. The energy from before had come back, zipping around, almost frantically, around him. His eyes shot open, the whiplash from nothingness to something causing his heart rate and breathing to kick into high gear.

Tang had expected the energy to disappear, to slow its pace and fall back into obscurity like before.

This was nothing like that.

The sheer presence it held took his breath away; he could barely keep himself from shaking at the image in front of him. Lights and colors he'd never seen before danced around him, combining and dividing infinity in front of his eyes. Among them, he swore he could see shapes and images flash for a moment inside the swirling cacophony; faces, places, even still frames of what he assumed were major battles were conjured then consumed by the ever-shifting mass.

It was beautiful. It was dangerous. It was powerful. He didn't know what it was. It seemed ethereal. He didn't know what it could do.

His body moved on its own, an arm reaching out towards the mass unconsciously. A small voice in his head screamed at him to stop, to back away, but his body wouldn't listen. Everything fell into the background, his eyes focussed on his hand slowly approaching disaster.

Dread filled his gut, heavy along with anticipation. When the distance finally closed, though, his hand went right through the colorful light, a warm sensation covering his palm.

He watched, transfixed, as a bright orange came from his palm, tinting the surrounding light. It started to spread, staining more and more of the mass a glittery, shimmering orange as the energy was lulled and slowed from the shift.

When he tried to pull his hand away, a sudden weight washed over his body, something similar to a weighted blanket thrown over him, slowly dragging him down in the low gravity.

It was almost unnoticeable if you weren't paying attention, but after feeling absolutely nothing for too much time, you start to notice the little things that change.

He was shocked at the feeling, how the weight seemed to increase slowly but surely. The hand touching the colorful mass was hung above his head as he descended, stuck to the orange lightshow as he seemed to drag it down with him. Another new thing. He didn't like how many were happening at once.

He tried to lift his other hand to move, his legs to kick, to move anything, but they were once again numb to his pleas. The only thing he could feel from his limbs was the warmth on his suspended hand.

The weight on his body only continued to increase as he fell, similar to the feeling of being covered in a bucket of tar, not that he would know anything about that personally…

The heavy pressure enveloped him entirely as he sunk further and further into the void's depths. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, succumbing to the ever-present weight over them as they slowly closed.

His limbs slowly started to become responsive again, similar to when they fell asleep when he passed out at the library too many times and woke up to his head on his bicep, cutting off circulation.

The tingly feeling only grew as the weight became more intense. He felt like pins and needles were constantly stuck into his skin, like a very morbid human porcupine or pin cushion.

Tang couldn't even huff at the image he’d created in his head as everything felt too heavy to move, too uncomfortable to even try.

After a while, he could feel the mass start to glow brighter, muted orange hues shining through his eyelids. To his surprise, he could feel the sparks of energy start up again, quickly detaching from his palm and swirling through the void as it circled his body.

Because of this, he almost didn't notice when he could completely feel his limbs again, how the weight over his body stopped increasing, and when his body finally collapsed onto a hard, solid, surface. He did, though, and he jolted violently at the sudden sensation, his lethargic limbs twinging at the sharp tingling feeling when his body made contact.

He was hit with an odd sense of deja vu as he tried to pull himself up from the cold, hard surface. As soon as he started to move, however, the energy circling his presence violently dispersed, the concentrated form it held earlier fracturing and scattering into specs across the void.

Tang opened his eyes in confusion, blinking away the haze that covered them. When it cleared, the smell of smoke and ash suddenly assaulted his senses. He coughed violently into his elbow, gasping for air as the surface under him seemed to… warp.

Gone was the cool, smooth surface, replaced by rough wooden planks. He could feel ash start to pile up on his skin, the course texture shifting as he tried to sit up. A harsh bump from below jostled him back onto his elbows, sending stray ash flying into the air.

He let out a frustrated huff, coughing once again as the ash burned into his throat. Back on the floor, he could feel the vibrations of motion under his legs and palms, wooden wheels traversing uneven dirt roads. The feeling was oddly familiar, making his brows crease in confusion.

Slowly rising to his knees, he settled into muscle memory, adjusting his position while he leaned on the side of the… wooden cart. Huh. I haven't been on one of these in a while.

Looking around, Tang saw what looked like a nightmare-ish version of the Bellfield square. The buildings were all wrong, starkly different from the tents, stands, and warehouses of the current bellfield. What he remembered to be well built houses and storefronts lined the square instead, either on fire or having taken significant damage as the flames roared on.

Ashes and debris lined the road, oddly far enough away for the cart to pass on by. Holes and craters lined the ground as well, pieces of the earth jutting unnaturally towards the sky.

No…

Tang knows what this place is. He knows what's happened, and has enough common sense to know that he's most likely dreaming. But everything still seems too real.

The familiar way the buildings collapsed from the inside, the way everything from the ground, walls, people had just dented and splintered apart from something no one could register. Everything was the same, down to the minute details of where the fires burned to how the breeze blew the remnants away in sweeps of ash.

Except for something.

There wasn't any blood.

He knew that people had gotten hurt that day, back when he was a boy and was… something. Whatever. It didn't matter why he was there, because what happened regardless is something he knows all too well.

He can almost imagine the mixed smell of blood, burning flesh, and smoke all too well. He gripped the side of the cart harshly, the rough wood digging into his hand. That was another thing he noticed. Why wasn't there any smoke-

*COUGH*

*COUGH COUGH*

A cloud of darkness and heat suddenly covered the cart, blanketing the entire thing, including Tang. He ducked his head as he coughed violently, the smoke worming its way into his lungs. It was overwhelming, making his eyes water as he tried to breathe despite the black cloud of crap and the… smell of blood and burning flesh.

He covers his mouth with his scarf (which seemed bigger than usual) and shudders in a breath, his body shaking at the sudden onslaught as he quickly looks out to the square, paling at what he found. Smoke now covered the area in a thick smog, enveloping everything in its path. From what he could see through the cloud, the pure destruction had turned to a massacre.

Bodies littered the area, some caught under rubble while others bled out on the street. The smell was all too like the one he remembered, scarily so. He was glad the smoke only allowed him to see their silhouettes; he didn't know what he'd do if he recognized the tatters of clothing on the most likely charred remains.

A sudden bump in the cart made him jump and shook him back to the present. It was almost like the cart sunk into the thing blocking the road, a wet squelch sounding as they passed… I don't want to think about what that was.

He breathed slowly through his scarf, trying to reason with himself. It's not real. He thinks. I know that. It's just another one of my horrible, stress induced nightmares due to the stupid military, this stupid town, and it's STUPID WAR with whatever attacked us on the road.

But the smell of rot, burnt flesh, and blood still invaded his senses. He screamed into his scarf.

Readjusting, by then he had realized the cart was going in circles around the oddly-intact fountain in the center covered in blood and ash. Looking ahead, pulling the cart was a seemingly normal brown horse, weirdly unaffected compared to its surroundings.

Looking closer while leaning over the cart to put a hand on its back, he noticed that it wasn't blinking, and he couldn't feel it breathing, either-

A strong gust of wind pushed him back onto the cart, the smoke coalescing around him in a whirlwind of black. His scarf was blown askew as he coughed violently on the floor, eyes watering as he struggled against the wind's current.

When it finally dissipated away from the cart, Tang shoved his scarf back into his face and gulped in giant breaths of (slightly) cleaner air as he sat up.

The cart jolting to a stop brought him back to the moment as he stumbled forward, the horse coughing something horrible as it tried to keep walking, stumbling over every piece of… debris thrown into the road. The sounds of it heaving and coughing were deeply disturbing as it basically echoed through the still, gorey setting.

Tang rushed to set it free of the restraints, struggling against the thick clouds of smoke even with his scarf over his face again. He tried to find a latch, knot, anything to undo the reins trapping the poor creature here, but he couldn't find anything before the horse collapsed onto the ground.

The cart toppled with it, leaning dangerously to one side as he let out a muffled yelp in surprise, gripping the sides of the cart for dear life. He was thrown onto the road, landing on top of stray pieces of wood and stone that dug into his side.

He groaned painfully as he got to his feet. Standing on solid ground again, he noticed how his sleeves seemed longer than usual and how baggy his pants and robe had become, bunching near his loose shoes. He tripped over the fabric more than once as he dragged himself back to where the horse played on the ground, motionless.

He grimaced at the sight as he crouched down next to its head. One hand held his scarf to his face while the other hand reached out to its face, closing its eyes to offer some sort of peace. “I’m sorry.” he mumbled, the odd sense of deja vu he got slipping away as he noticed how scratchy his voice had become from the smoke and how it sounded oddly squeaky.

His eyes scrunched together in confusion, a hand reaching towards his throat. “What was that?” His voice stayed weird, still high, still younger sounding than what it should be.

He stood up, away from where the horse now lied. He walked and walked, ignoring the scent of ash, smoke, and blood as he tried to find a building with at least half of its walls and windows still intact, preferably vacant of any… former inhabitants.

Gravel and chunks of wood caved under his feet, the black flats he usually wore not doing him any favors in terms of padding, especially now that they were a size too big. The warmth of the fires around him licked at his heels and bare skin, similar to holding a fresh bowl of noodles at Pigsy's with your bare hands; nothing too bad, but you know it could become worse if you slipped up.

He's only done it once, spill a bowl of noodles, but the skin on his hand was raw for weeks, leaving him unable to write for the entire duration it was healing. This was incredibly inconvenient as this was when he had started college in Megatropolis, and Pigsy had scoffed every time he came in after class and whined about the injury, calling him a clumsy fool with his head stuck in the clouds.

Pigsy did end up leaving him some fresh bandages and burn cream one night, when the pain started to worsen along with the swelling. He had teased the chef for it, obviously, but he doesn't remember exactly what he said. All he does remember is how red in the face Pigsy had gotten, embarrassed out of his mind as he grumbled all the way back to the kitchen.

The pain didn't seem so bad with him around.

However, this warmth around him now wasn't as comforting.

A small glint of light drew his attention. Tilting his head, he could see it was a shattered mirror lying on the floor. It was inside of a collapsed bakery, counters, chairs, and ovens crumbled and covered in ash. The sight of it sent a pang of hurt to his chest, but he ignored it in favor of getting closer.

Stepping over crumbling bricks and splintered planks, he slowly approached the smoldering shell of the building, making sure he didn't stumble over the debris or his own clothing. As he got up to what used to be the doorway, he silently peered inside, making sure that there wasn't anything lingering in there.

He let out a sigh of relief when he saw nothing moving, carefully stepping in through the rough entrance. The edges of his robe caught onto some bent supports stuck into the ground, not letting him get even a step into the place before he fell forward onto his left shoulder.

Tang sighed heavily into the floor. This is starting to get old. Fast. He thought, rolling to his back onto a decently clear area of the ground. He absently looked through the non-existent ceiling as he rubbed his shoulder, seeing how smoke and ash rose into the air and disappeared into the clouds, fire glowing through the gray in hues of orange and yellow.

Tilting his head to the right, he saw what he had come in here for. It was a long, oval-shaped mirror lying directly under the center of the hole in the roof, probably falling from the bakery's second floor. It was cracked and shattered in many places, covered in large amounts of ash; however, the beautiful frame remained intact.

Before getting up and getting closer, Tang sat up and looked around the bakery more thoroughly. It had only taken one blow, the giant hole above and the small crater in the floor being the only evidence of violence proving it. He saw other items in the crater as well, peering into its depths.

A broken plant vase with burnt flowers, some trophies melted and mangled beyond recognition, pieces of clothing that might have been matching aprons at some point, and some picture frames that weren't so lucky as the mirror, with most of the frames, glass, and pictures themselves being shattered or ripped to shreds.

He slowly dragged himself over to the crater, lowering himself about a foot as he carefully avoided broken glass and the like. Despite how careful he was, however, he still managed to accidentally knee one of the broken picture frames, letting out a hiss. The glass and splinters thankfully didn't cut through the fabric, though.

Sitting back and dusting off his knee of stray grime, he looked down at what he had hit. It was a family photo, parents standing behind the kids where everyone was smiling at the camera wearing matching uniforms that seemed familiar.

He picked the photo up, brushing away the layers of ash that covered it. The old couple seemed distant, eyes clouded with other worries and thoughts with polite smiles gracing their faces. Their hair had Grey streaks, yet was well handled with a bun or a ponytail.

The eldest child, or just the tallest one, stood next to the father; a small turn of the lips is all that's given to the camera, sharp eyes crinkled, annoyed with the activity perhaps. His hair was neat, almost too neat for a child his age, probably around 16 if he had to guess.

The kid standing in front of him was most likely the youngest due to how he stood a foot shorter than any of the other people in the picture. His smile was wide and unwavering towards the camera, some missing teeth becoming noticeable.

Then the kid on the left, the only girl, stood next to the mother, no more than 15. He noticed her eyes first, hazel irises glinting with mirth at the camera as long black hair framed her face-

*CRUNCH*

The photo was crushed in his hands. He balled it up violently, throwing it towards whoever knows where. I got distracted. This is just a dream.

He sighed heavily, focussing back on what he came here for. The mirror was propped up on the crater's slope, covered in ash that he quickly swiped off, slanted not enough for a full body view but enough to see his top half when he stood up.

What he noticed first was how skinny he looked, like he was drowning in his own clothes. That wasn't surprising, but what was was that all his wrinkles were now replaced with baby fat, his hair now infinitely shorter as well.

He raised a hand to his face in shock, feeling to see if that was what he really looked like. He was a teenager again. His age back when this all happened. Back when he couldn't fight back. Back when he wasn't strong enough to protect his friends.

He didn't like that he looked like this again.

Leaning closer, he saw the bags under his eyes he still had today. That never changed, he supposed. The cracks distorted the image, though, with parts of him in all different sections of the broken mirror. He remembered when he broke his own mirror in a fit of frustration, back when he was still in Megatropolis.

That time seemed forever ago, when he sat still and carefully plucked all those shards from his knuckles. He had hit it square in the center, cracks forming and crumbling outward from his weak punch, but this mirror seemed to have a different start.

Trailing the lines of the mirror with his eyes to look for the source, he saw that the cracks led to a small hole in the mirror made by blunt force, maybe from a piece of wood or brick, making a focal point that landed perfectly on Tang’s reflection, right above his heart.

He supposed it was poetic in some way he couldn't think of, mind hazy from the carnage and smoke surrounding everything around him.

However, the little introspection didn't last long. He heard the walls creak eerily before he even knew what was going on, ash displacing from the remains of the higher floor as it started to tilt inwards. His breath caught in his throat as he slowly looked up at what could only be described as something utterly, completely, horrifying.

A figure was suspended in the air, obscured by clouds and clouds of smoke and fire that seemed to wrap around its very being. The only thing visible through the whirling grey and orange was its piercing white eyes as it stared him down through the rubble.

The supports around him creaked in displeasure as the whirlwind around it kicked up, consuming more and more smoke, ash, and blood from the surrounding area. Dust, grime, anything light enough was picked up soon enough, either crumbled or burnt to complete ashes as it joined the tornado above.

The smell of burnt flesh and blood had gotten so much worse, causing him to gag and cough even through the scarf. It got so bad that he had to fall to his knees, letting go of his scarf as he kept dry heaving into the crater now empty of any personal belongings. Only the ashes remained constant, whirling around him with the smoke only making his coughing worse.

The wind howled in his ears, thrashing his loose clothes every which way and deafening his senses. His throat felt like it was on fire, ashes and particles tearing the soft tissue apart in every breath. He had started to choke at one point, his hands clawing at his throat in a pathetic display of helplessness.

Those eyes never left him once. Staring and staring and staring and staring as he faded more and more. Never moving, never talking, never blinking. Tears fell from his eyes in waves, the droplets barely making it an inch before the winds took it away as well.

He was dying. This is what dying felt like. A slow, painful way to go in his memories. He didn't remember this. He was never near the demon who did it. This never happened.

That’s what he thought.

The pain was too real, too specific to be something his brain made up for no purpose, the feeling too familiar to discard as just another part of a wacky nightmare. The surrounding building cracking and crumbling to the clouds of smoke becoming a fixture in his brain as he trembled on the floor barely conscious as the last bit of restraint was pulled away.

Pieces of drywall, brick, and ash came down all at once. Tang closed his eyes as he trembled on the floor. The first time this happened, dread, fear, and helplessness had engulfed him, Allan’s determination being the only thing pulling him through that mess. The second time, he had Cian for support, a voice grounding him to the situation at hand so he could get his ass out of it in one piece with Zach.

Now, though, he only had himself: his weak, cowardly, pathetic self, and wasn't that just a terrifying, dreadful thought to have? That without anyone else to lean on, to rely on, to leech off of, he'd be left for dead even in his own head?

The building collapsed inward over its own weight.

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

Tang woke up with a start, an awful crick in his neck making itself known as well. He gulped in the air greedily as he reached a hand up to his throat on instinct. His throat was completely fine, no burning sensations to be felt as he kept breathing heavily.

However, he did feel stretches of raw, tender skin over his neck. Feeling a hand over his neck, it was most likely scratch marks from how thin the marks were, how they slightly burned, and how he could see some redness under his own fingernails, too. Did I do that in my sleep? That seems a bit concerning…

A smack on the side of the truck spooked him out of his stupor, making him jump in surprise and turn towards the noise. “Heya, sleeping beauty! Finally awake?” Rick jokes, leaning on the side of the truck with a piece of rope hanging over his shoulder.

Tang just blinked slowly in response, unsure of what to say. Before he could reply, however, Harrison came up to the other side of the truck with a clipboard, glaring across the vehicle towards the other.

“Step away from my assignment, Rick. I need to give instructions and you can socialize all you like after your head dismisses you back to your tent. Glasses, come with me.” He said curtly, turning away from the truck and starting towards a small tent on the outskirts of what used to be a city if Tang had to guess.

All that was left was scorch marks and rubble, he's guessing something caused by explosives based on the earlier conversation in the medical tent.

Rick rolled his eyes dramatically before walking off with a wave in Tang's general direction. Tang could only huff at the antics before scrambling to get out of the truck and running as fast as he could to catch up with Harrison.

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Hello everyone 🤍❤️💚🖤

I am Majed from Gaza, from the north of the Strip.

My family and I were displaced to the south. After 188 days of exhaustion, constant fear, and losing everything we owned, we were displaced to Egypt and paid a large sum, but some of my family and all our loved ones are still suffering in Gaza💔. We don't have residency here, so that's what makes it complicated. I also set a goal of 6,000, which is a short-term goal

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Redo Poll

I did something to the poll which I don't know what happened, but it gave some of the answers random votes so ima redo the poll here.

I forgot to post the chapters after chapter 4, so I'll just put the latest one here.

I FINALLY GOT AN AO3 ACCOUNT!!!!!

I have made the first chapter in ao3 now, and I'll post all of my other chapters up there soon!

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.