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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 Gazađź’”. 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
Of the total specified amount.
Your donation, no matter how small, will make a big difference in my life and the lives of my children 🙏🏼🇵🇸🍉
https://gofund.me/f489e577
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My account was banned by tumblr policy and I created a new account and my account is very weak
I have about 10 accounts suspended because Israeli groups have cancelled my campaign. Please donate and help me complete my campaign.
‎‏I ask this with shame: Please donate a small amount that may save my father's life, he needs daily medication worth 55€ and will undergo surgery worth 250€💔, Please don't ignore my message and don't hesitate to help me 🍉
‎‏ Please support me I am facing this alone🙏
🫶🏻💝 I world be very grateful
âś…verified by: @gaza-evacuation-funds
Hello my friend, I am sorry for the inconvenience. I'm trying to get my family out of the Gaza war. My father is sick and needs medical care, and the costs of treating this are high. Can you help me with this? I will be really grateful to you.
Hello my friend, đź‘‹ đź‘‹
My name is Ahmed from Gaza, and I have a small child. Unfortunately, our house in Khan Yunis has been destroyed by the war, and we are currently experiencing difficult living conditions in a displacement tent in Deir al-Balah. We are in dire need of a safe and suitable shelter. If you want to help us, you can donate through the following fundraising campaign link:
https://gofund.me/665fbb6c.
verified by bees and watermelon No.171.
Every contribution makes a difference. Thank you for your support.
I want to know if I should keep posting my chapters on Tumblr or if should I just post them on ao3.
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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I love his wavy hair and freckles!! Looks great!
shes his little buddy
REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!
IF YOU TAG AS SHIP I WILL BLOCK YOU
Hello dear
I am from the Baalousha family from Gaza.. 🇵🇸🍉
I hope you are well .
I write to you with a heart full of hope and faith, and I ask for your urgent help. My family is in great danger due to the war, and I am running a fundraising campaign to save them. My father and mother suffer from diabetes and high blood pressure. Help me secure them
Please, can you reblog my campaign post on my account? Every participation can make a difference in my family's life.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any help you can provide. 🇵🇸🇵🇸
The campaign was documented by @90-ghost
A World Without Him
Chapter 22
His dream held nothing memorable. The black void had apparently lost its novelty after being dragged into its depths so many times before. Tang's expression held only annoyance as his body spinned and glided through the never-ending darkness.
He didn't want to deal with what he knew would come next. The hands, the voices, the damned buzzing that came in recently.
What he wanted right now was one of those phantom things to appear in front of him, actually consider him a person worth talking to, and answer his questions.
To tell him what this void was even for, how they had access to his head since he knows the reoccurring nightmares and chatter wasn't formed from his mind alone, no matter how those things try to gaslight him into convincing himself overwise.
However, he also knew nothing would come from screaming at the void or cursing these stupid voices out in every curse word he knew, dead languages included. Maybe some of them would understand; he saw the old style of clothing the two spirits had when they showed up at the infirmary.
But it's not like they would talk to him of their own accord (besides Cian, but that thing comes and goes as it pleases and only talks to him when it's amused or wants something. It's a wildcard he doesn't want to think of the implications of), those two he saw were freaking out when he just looked at them.
From the urgency in their voices, Tang doesn't think he has a good chance at a one on one like that again, especially not here.
So, he chose to do the only thing he could: wait, like almost every time before. He crossed his arms, folded his legs, and sat still, eyes closed as the void suddenly reacted to his choice.
It seemed to come alive as he relaxed into its atmosphere, accepting him into its domain. He swore he could feel tendrils of unseen energy suddenly coil and bend around him, letting themselves be seen for the first time. He could sense it slow and accelerate based on unknown variables, how it had potential, how it could be something more if someone just gave its power shape.
It was overwhelming, yet not unfamiliar, like an overenthusiastic relative hugging you a bit too tight. But when he opened his eyes again, everything suddenly stilled, only pitch black as far as he could see.
It was silent, empty, yet again. Tang didn't know what that could mean, or even what that rush before was, but he wanted to figure at least one thing about this place out.
And because of that, he closed his eyes, ignored the warning signs, and tried to coax the energy back out. He sat in silence for a good while, waiting for the familiar energy to return.
Nothing happened for a good while. No spikes in the atmosphere, no familiar feelings, and there weren't even the usual voices or hands crowding his space. It was just quiet. He didn't move to open his eyes, though, as he liked the peace and wanted to stay a bit longer, even with a small bit of paranoia in the back of his mind saying the nightmare would begin sooner or later.
So, he focussed on what he could feel. His hair swayed behind him in the low gravity, stray wisps tickling his neck as the strands went every-which-way. He could feel his clothes do the same, the soft fabric of his sleeves and the ends of his robe billowing away from him…
...My robe?
He slowly opened his eyes once again, looking down at his body. He was no longer in the drab uniform he was given at the sleeping quarters, but instead he was back in his old red, white, and gold outfit.
The fabric seemed brand new as he took a piece between his fingers, nothing like the worn threads of his actual outfit. His shoes, scarf, and gloves were absent, though, while he still had long white socks under his maroon pants.
He calmly unwound his legs, letting them dangle in front of him. Looking closely at the fabric, he could see a small, almost unnoticeable orange sheen over the clothing. Frowning, he lifted his hands to his face seeing the same sheen over his hands, sleeves, and… the bell.
It seems like this piece of shit followed me in here. He thought bitterly, scowling at the bracelet hanging off his wrist. He raised a hand to his hair, running his fingers through the strands.
He still wasn't exactly used to the length, having had short hair for a good decade before it started growing dramatically after LBD. His hand kept trailing through the strands, ending at the middle of his back. And even before then, he'd never had it this long.
He fidgeted with the ends of his hair, lost in thought. He noticed some pieces had become lighter than the others, similar to the highlights he'd seen in Mei's signature hairstyle. However, his were closer to ashy blond than neon green.
Tang wonders if the color was natural. It fits her family’s theme, the whole white, green, and gold palette, so maybe she did it as some self expression while also sticking to her family's rules. She’s also a descendant of the Dragon of the West, so he supposes it's possible to get it naturally from those mythical being genes.
If… when he goes back to Megatropolis, he'll have to ask her himself.
He let go of the strands he was fidgeting with, letting them float in place as he sighed into his palms. Taking his head out of his hands, he glanced around the void once more, trying to see if anything changed while he was stuck in his head. The scholar couldn't see anything different, so he sunk back into himself and crossed his arms with a huff.
He wonders if the voices are gone now, stuck somewhere, unable to interact with him anymore. He saw how panicked they were in the medical tent, and he hasn't been able to hear from any other voices like them afterwards. He wonders if Cian was the person they were talking about, how someone should have blocked the connections from them? The details were fuzzy.
Still, he remembered the clear fear on their faces, how they couldn't let him die just yet. He's supposed to stay away from Cian and the monastery apparently, and Tang is more than happy to avoid both if he could. He could feel it in his gut that interacting with either of those options would not result in something good.
It's not like he can do much else at this point. His bag had most likely been confiscated by those military officials while he was unconscious, so most of that supplies is stuff he's never getting back. He groaned at the thought. All of that work is just gone in the wind now.
He misses his journal the most. All the little notes and scribbles he makes help him to focus, and reading back on them helps keep the memories fresh. Most of the stuff he writes is just about the legends and Monkie Kid's adventures, though, as he likes to portray them on paper the most.
Speaking of the legends, he wonders what is exactly going on with these spirits. The scholar doesn't remember hearing of ghosts matching the descriptions of the spirits he'd seen in any of the myths he's read, and since he is a Certified Scholar Spectacular (name given to him from a 9 year old Mk with a paper badge to match. He kept it in his journal as a bookmark. He really wants that journal back now), he knows that they've never shown up in one.
He thinks they're somehow related to the Golden Cicada and the Great Monk, with the obvious gold and orange colors along with the multiple cicadas popping up in most of his dreams. He just doesn't know how that connects with the rest of the information he’s gotten.
Flickers of memories play in his head as he tries to think of anything tying these things together. Cian had called his visions flares, and that it had his powers before him. If Cian was anything like the other voices, did that mean those two spirits also had powers like his before, too?
How do his powers work in the first place, anyways? How can they be passed down from (most likely) the Great Monk if he had already ascended like in JTTW, and had no possibility of reincarnation?
He rubs the back of his neck, lost in thought. Maybe Cian had lied to him at some point, about anything really, but then how were those voices from the medical tent related?
The truth is, Tang doesn't know.
The declaration hurts his soul, but it's true. He can't link these things to anything he's seen before. Everything is too foreign, too unpredictable where he can't wrap his head around all the stuff piling over one another.
He hates the feeling: being in the dark, not knowing what he's really dealing with. He prides himself on his knowledge, his ingenuity, as it's the only thing that really sets him apart from his friends.
So when that gets taken away from him, he's left scrambling, making situations worse than they already were in an attempt to make them better.
His teeth grind together as his hands grow tight on his arms, the unpleasant thought wriggling under his skin. Maybe I shouldn't have stayed here for so long. Nothing good has come out of this place so far, anyways. He thinks, looking out into the unchanging darkness; it's still empty.
He didn't know what he was expecting.
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A World Without Him
Chapter 18
Tang barely had any time to process what the soldier said before she started moving away, managing to get further and further out of reach before he could even respond. He scrambled to catch up, tripping more times than he could count from the bumps and potholes in the road.
She said Zach woke up. If it was that fast, his injury must not have been that serious. I'm glad he's ok. Hopefully he'll be well enough to speak. Thoughts like this filled his head as he caught up to her. He was being taken down the main road, and the soldier, thankfully giving Tang's ankles and psyche some semblance of rest, eventually slowed her pace for him and didn't say anything else.
He took a minute to catch his breath next to her, holding a hand over his chest as they went past many people working for the day. He saw patrolling guards chatting with each other, workers transporting goods in wooden crates, and many other people cleaning buildings or reinforcing the barricade set up between the trees.
Wait, there's a barricade? Tang did a double take, staring at the giant wooden configuration behind all the greenhouses and work buildings. He… never noticed it before. It's no wonder why those officials were so uptight at my arrival. How did I get past that thing unnoticed?...
Squinting his eyes and looking closer beyond the camp, he could see the outline of a huge, wooden wall situated in the surrounding forest. It had almost twice the amount of soldiers patrolling it compared to the main area, and all of them wore strange masks on their faces unlike everyone inside. Each one had the exact same pattern: bright neon coloring with a complex symbol repeated over the dark fabric.
As soon as he saw them, Tang noticed his gut start to sink subconsciously. A feeling of something being just out of place burrowed into his head as he continued to stare at the masks. He just couldn't take his eyes off of them, and yet, looking at those things for too long was starting to make his skin crawl uncontrollably.
This feeling got so intense that he didn't even realize he had stopped walking. His eyes were hollow as his surroundings blurred, the initial fatigue and mission forgotten in the huge surge of unease. He probably would've stayed that way, too, if not for a hand landing violently onto his shoulder, bringing him back to reality.
He spun away sharply from the wooden border and toward the hand's source, blinking dumbly when he and the guide were face to face again. Her eyes narrowed at him, the strong grip on his shoulder grounding him in place.
“What are you doing?” She asked suspiciously, glancing to where he was staring so intently at.
Tang waved his hands in surrender, quickly trying to come up with an excuse. “Oh! Well, erm, I was just looking at all the new places and people here. Never a dull moment when everyone is constantly moving and doing something around this place. This is really the first time I've seen more of the area after all that lifeless busy work, so I guess I got a bit overwhelmed at the-”
“Ok, ok. Let's just get going. He doesn't like when people are late.” She interrupted, letting his shoulder go and turning back to the road. Tang decided to ignore that very ominous comment at the end for his own (fickle) sanity, now focussing on anything other than the barricade or whatever would be close to it. This apprehension eventually led him back to his guide.
Small details filled his brain as he observed, hands itching for his sketchbook to let his hands do something. From a quick once-over, the woman seemed to be no older than 30, with her silky black hair tied into a tight bun and her gray eyes filled with trained apathy, any of her thoughts or emotions hidden away from onlookers.
He also noticed she seemed highly ranked. She had a hat like the Head Soldier, and it was one that had more badges and stripes on it as well.
Looking away from the soldier in front of him, Tang let his legs rest while taking slow, careful steps. The soldier then stayed with his rhythm, never letting him get too far behind in his fluctuating pace. After a while of walking, he startled to fiddle with the bell on his wrist as his mind drifted from the guide, getting distracted by the surrounding area again. He didn't look past the buildings now.
Anyways, he saw in real time how the developed buildings thinned out as tents or dirt training grounds overtook the leftover space. The other soldiers on these grounds seem to have just started their afternoon drills, running laps, shooting guns at targets, and holding planks as the duo walked past.
They never did stop for any of these new settlements, though, just calmly walking further and further past them, with all of those places also eventually thinning out leaving only the forest and wooden barrier. Only after even the hum of shouted drills and stomping feet faded into the background, did the guide finally stop her pace and turn to face Tang.
“We're going to an undisclosed location for the meeting with your companion. Since it is located outside of this base, I'll need you to wear a blindfold for the rest of our trek. This is just a safety precaution, so please try not to struggle.” She said curtly while leading him aside and right onto the edge of the surrounding forest.
She then pulled a long piece of navy cloth out of one of her many pockets while Tang nervously took off his glasses and hung them on his uniform collar. He couldn't see anything clearly without them, and it wasn't like he could memorize the entire layout of the woods from one trip, but he was betting that the soldier wouldn't trust his words as far as she could throw him. (Well, he might have to rephrase that as from her arms alone, as she looks like she could definitely throw him at least a few feet if needed)
She quickly wrapped the cloth around his head, tying a knot in the back so tight that Tang couldn't see even the tiniest slivers of light coming through it. “Thank you for your cooperation. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but we don't have any leniency for leaks. I'll try my best to keep you from tripping or hitting anything on our way there.”
Her voice had the barest hint of emotion as she apologized. It was noticeable compared to her cold demeanor from when she first walked up to him: a small pang of sympathy in her tone. Tang just nodded his head, hopefully in her direction as he guessed from her previous apology.
She then, slowly and gently, grabbed his wrist and started to walk into the forest brush. It was a strong hold, but one that wasn't bruising or harsh against his raw skin. Tang was grateful for the small mercy as they continued.
They had a small stop at what Tang assumed was the barrier, his guide whispering with what was probably a guard before said guard opened up what sounded like a heavy door, based on how it dragged on the dirt floor, and let them through.
The sounds of the rustling leaves and the small chirps of birds were the only things Tang could make out clearly. The breeze that made the sound ruffled his clothes, blew dead leaves through the air, (with some smacking Tang straight in the face due to his loss of sight. One leaf even made it down his throat and he had to cough for a solid minute, hunched against a tree with the soldier patting his back hard to get it out) and left his loose wisps of hair to wave in the wind as he walked.
The guide didn't say or do much other than lead him through the forest, but she did mutter small warnings for roots to step over or branches to duck under (which he would be grateful for if not for her lack of warning for the flying leaves of all things. Maybe that was on him for almost dying to something as stupid as that, though). He didn't want another face full of dirt or whatever else there was in here.
But it's not like he's in a place where he can complain.
After being made to take too many nonsensical detours and sometimes even backtracking more times than he could count, the scenery around them finally started to change. The ground of dead leaves and dirt smoothed out into plain grass as he was apparently led out of the forest.
The guide then put a hand on his chest, signaling him to stop, and let go of his wrist, leaving Tang for a second before speaking up, now behind him. “We've arrived.” Was the only thing she said as she undid the blindfold.
His eyes were immediately overwhelmed at the harsh sunlight, leaving Tang squinting hard and blinking out the spots. Once his eyes adjusted, he reached for the glasses on his collar and put them on, readying himself for what he was about to see.
Tang's reaction was immediate. His eyes, initially slightly curious and tired, were now high sprung and alert, flicking from place to place as he looked over what was before him.
The area seemed as if it was flattened out, most of the ground being only flat grass with the trees circling around the cutout. That was except for two hills, one straight ahead and the other to Tang's left, and a lake, or what was left of it with the water being less than a foot deep, to the right.
On the left hill stood a dead willow tree, a bizarre sight as the surrounding wood was mostly pine. However, the center hill is what really caught his eye. It was big, at least 5 feet tall, and was more of a slope down as it took up half the cutout.
On top of it was a giant stone monastery with cracks, vines, and other signs of wear scattered around showing its age. It had a wide arch as an entrance, with dirt steps carved out of the hill it was atop leading up to it.
Oh no. Was Tang’s only thought. It repeated over and over in his head as he was grabbed by his wrist yet again and was led toward the huge building. There were other smaller setups next to the building, but he didn't pay attention to them. The huge stone menace burned into his brain, invoking emotions deep down in his gut he thought he had long forgotten.
They had reached the dirt stairs in no time. Each step put a load onto Tang’s shoulders as he couldn't stop his emotions and thoughts from overflowing and filling his head with jumbled garbage he couldn't make any sense of. They just kept getting closer and closer, and he didn't want to know what would happen to him when he went past that entrance if this was his reaction to merely looking at it.
His stomach dropped as they reached the top. He craned his neck up to look at the intricate detailing lining the archway, moving his head away from what was past this point. He braced himself for what was to come, his hands clammy as he clenched his fists in anticipation.
They walked forward…
And then turned to the right.
Tang’s whiplash from deep dread to straight up confusion caused him to blink hard a few times to regain his bearings. Looking back up, they were still walking along the side of the monastery, not going inside as he had thought. He turned his head back behind him, seeing the archway getting farther and farther away.
A huge feeling of what seemed to be relief filled his senses, letting him focus back onto where they were actually going. Twisting his head back to the front, he saw that up ahead was one of the biggest tents he had ever seen in this camp.
It was almost triple the normal size compared to where he was being monitored, and had more workers surrounding as they ran in and out rapidly, delivering or taking many things at once. One even ran past them, almost bumping into him, and towards the entrance of the monastery with what seemed like a pile of used needles.
Tang already had a good idea of what this place was supposed to be even before being ushered into the tent. The inside was even crazier than the outside. Rows of beds lined the interior as people dressed in white ran around either preparing equipment or checking up on a current patient.
Countless grounds and cries echoed through the tent, though this noise was something Tang was used to by now. This didn't seem like the case for his guide, though, as she scrunched her brow and held onto his wrist a bit tight as she pulled him through the chaos.
Many different patients and injuries flew by him as they ran through. Burns, amputation, concussions, and major lacerations were the main things he could catch glimpses of through all the medical personnel. This made him wonder why these people were in such bad shape in the first place.
But he wasn't able to ask before he was suddenly pulled away and into a section near the back closed off by multiple white curtains. Soldiers were also situated right outside of the closed off area, giving away who was probably in the bed in front of him.
Zach looked worse for wear. His eyes were tired as he was surrounded by many more personnel, checking his vitals and IV as they asked him questions. Tang could barely hear his answers from how quiet they were, almost being drowned out from the other commotion surrounding them.
But almost as soon as he sat down next to the bed, all the personnel seemed to quicken up their pace, hushing each other as each one sprinted out of there in record time. The only people left by then were him, his guide standing next to him, and Zach, not including the soldiers stationed outside.
And awkward silence was cast among them. Tang really didn't know what to do here, as he's only known Zach for a day at most and didn't know how to comfort the kid. Luckily, he was saved the trouble as loud footsteps came close to the area, causing the guide to perk up and walk over to the entrance.
Hushed words were exchanged with whoever was on the other side, their body being obscured by the white curtains. The conversation seemed to go sour almost immediately, though, with his guide getting cut off at just one harsh command, leaving her quiet.
She came back in with her face schooled again, regaining her place next to Tang and putting her hands behind her back. Then the curtains parted yet again, revealing whoever she had been talking with.
To Tang's surprise, it was an elderly man, one who was wearing tan robes and held a wooden cane. He had a full head of white and gray hair, eyes a dark brown as he glanced at the guide. Looking away, he slowly walked over to an empty chair and plopped himself down across from Tang with Zach between them on the bed.
The old man kept his head down as he only glanced up, staring Tang down with a harsh look the scholar couldn't quite make sense of. He didn't really need to, as two other soldiers came in, one with a clipboard in hand.
Tang recognized the two as the ones from his own interrogation, Red Hair and Aggressive Guy whispering some nonsense to each other as he stared them down. Aggressive Guy then huffed and sat down as Red Hair walked up to Zach, exchanged a few words with the taxi driver, and then stood up next to the bed, readying her clipboard.
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