Tang Doodle!
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.
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Random Rambles And Theories About Alastor Go!
Ok, so right now I am on a high with all the recent Alastor lore we've been blessed with in Hazbin Hotel, and this little murderer has been occupying my mind 24/7. I really need to get all my theories and rambles out that I don't see a lot of people talking about.
(BTW, before my ramble, I have seen many places say he was mixed race as a human, but if I am wrong, please let me know, because this delves deep into that with his human life.)
(Also be warned for a bit of gore/violence and that this thing is kind of long)
Now let's begin!
I'll start with the most talked about theory with Alastor: his connections with Lilith and why he reacted the way he did with Lucifer
The show has given us what many people think are hints to this with both of them gone for 7 years, the slight eye twitch in the pilot when he looked at liliths portrait, Alastor showing up right after Charlie finished voicmailing her mom also in the pilot, how he knew about Charlie's Daddy Issues before she seemed to have told anyone, the leash comment from Husker, and how Alastor reacted to Lucifer.
Now, all of these could be chalked up to Alastor having some sort of nice relations to Lilith, but some of these are a bit too far stretched to just be because he has interacted nicely with Lilith in my eyes.
I have seen many people talk about how Alastor must have gotten a bad impression of Lucifer because either him and Lilith are besties and talk crap about him after the split, or he listened to her complaints about him and got an impression off of that to dislike him this much right off the bat in episode 5.
But I don't think that's it. We see how badly Alastor reacted to the leash comment by Husker, which definitely isn't a good sign that he would even trust the words of whoever is holding that 'leash' against him. He seemed pushed over the edge, vulnerable enough to lash out, which is unlike himself. Whatever deal he made for his soul, was most likely under threat, a life or death choice.
This is why I think he despises (most likely) Lilith or whoever has that 'leash' on him. He lashes out, sensitive about the subject. After gaining so much power over the overlords, he suddenly gets toppled over again by someone of (most likely) higher status, being forced into an unwilling contract, now just another pawn that this demon(?) can use for their own desires, and he doesn't want to be that, he needs to make his own decisions. But he doesn't have any say in the matter.
So I think why he was mocking and teasing Lucifer so much was because of his connection with Lilith. Everyone knew how deeply in love they were (before they split) and how they are both the most powerful demons in hell. I think Alastor took a chance to use his pent up anger on Lucifer, trying to get him to hurt as much as he can because of what Lilith did, all the while Lucifer cant do anything too serious leat he upset Charlie. We know he is extremely petty, after all. (we can also see him (most likely) letting off some steam when devouring the loan sharks, with him getting unnecessarily big and just letting loose on a couple of low-tier goons)
I saw another person talk about how Alastor has no power over Lucifer/Lilith, no political power, and he can't beat them in games of wits either. But the one thing that he does have the upper hand on, is their daughter, and I completely agree with that.
Alastor has been there since the beginning, has helped Charlie out and talked with her more than her own Parents had in the last couple of years probably. He's seen how attached the parents are to Charlie, and decided to use that info in full force. Just look at the Lucifer/Alastor duet.
Now that we have my theories of the life and death contract with Lilith, let's go deep into what I think is Alastors character right now:
Alastor, a mixed child in the early 1900's most likely had it really rough. With being treated as less than from both sides for being to dark/light to the violence that he most likely had to endure during his childhood.
This could have been where his anger/obsessive resentment started to simmer up in sporadic bursts over the years and years of belittlement, abuse, and racism.
Like I said before, he was probably treated as less than human for his mixed skin, and Alastor most likely started to hate it. His skin, the people, everything seemed so wrong. Why should the people who beat him and his mother see them so vulnerable and weak. He decided he didn't like that anymore.
So the radio show started. I got this idea from when he said his face was only made for radio. Over the radio, no one ever knew what you looked like. Just your voice would be broadcasted, and no one would ever see who was really behind the microphone unless they stepped out. This seemed like a barrier to Alastor. Letting himself go with no worries about letting people see him vulnerable behind his broadcast. (Maybe that's why he hates TV and modern tech so much; people can see everything about you)
And when his radio show became a hit and people wanted pictures and news? What would protect him then? Simple: his unwavering smile. Reactions are what people want when they crush others. They want to see them wallow and beg cry from what they have done. But Alastor won't let anyone do that to him ever again.
He stands his guard, not letting any comments get to him, keeping charming smile and unwavering voice all throughout his career as a radio host. Keep the smile up, dont have your voice crack, never show weakness. If you stop, those that wait will sink their teeth in and never let go of you. That's what I think a part of his mentality is and is maybe a part of why his smile is stitched on in his demonic form.
Now onto why I think he's a serial killer/cannibal. Remember when I said he had lots of unchecked anger and obsessive resentment? All this now simmering even more while being pushed down by his persona?
This is when he'll break loose.
He usually goes for the ones with the least amount of defense: drunkards/ bar frequenters. I though of this when Mimzy said he used to always come to the bar she was performing at and how he could drink like a sailor.
He might've drank with people to let their guard down in addition to his non-threatening charm, and he probably built a tolerance to be at least a bit sober when the others are full out drunk so he can easily transport and kill them.
He probably enjoys killing/eating his victims because a) it shows how he has power now. How he isn't a helpless victim anymore and he's finally in control of his life or b) where he likes seeing privileged people beaten and bruised for once, the gratification of seeing someone taste their own medicine by his own hand, like revenge, even if that person hadn't been necessarily bad towards him.
His death ro me is the same that everyone else thinks, where he's burying some victims body and gets mistaken for a deer, then shot straight between the eyes. What I do think a bit differently is that he was chased by hunting dogs first, which alerted the hunter for him to get shot, which then led to his fear of dogs.
Then he was finally free to do anything. Hell had no limits, he didn't have to hide his carnage anymore. But now that smile he wore was engraved into his face, almost making it impossible to frown. But that didn't matter. Not right now. Alastor has so many emotions bubbling up that he just wanted blood to be on his hands.
And then he slaughtered the overlords and took their souls within weeks ( maybe months, idk how quick he killed them, but ima go with weeks), broadcasting it over the radio to show everyone what he's been up to.
Alastor had kept this routine for a couple of decades, occasionally getting a guest star on his broadcast by those who he seems fit.
But maybe he had become too cocky with this power high, as he had been attacked by holy weaponry right before the extermination he dealth with most of them, but a shot did make it into his shoulder, causing him to collapse in pain, unable to move. (a bit simple, but I imagine him getting badly hurt by angels/angelic weaponry to lethal levels and Lilith decides to save him)
He fought hard when the angels arrived, of course, but he could only go so far in being this injured. So when he was about to get stabbed in the chest by a holy spear, he was already tired and almost accepted his fate, before being pulled somewhere by Lilith herself.
This is where Lilith offers a beat and broken Alastor a one time deal: become her servant or she'll throw him back to the exterminators herself. And in a situation like this, there's usually only one option you can really take.
And so he was a ghost, leaving everything he had behind. His power, his respect, his freedom...
Now Alastor had become a pawn again. A tool useful for the right situations, and just a toy to be played with by Lilith. This is exactly what he didn't want from his human life. The humility, the disregard, treating him as some sort of street animal, no matter what he did.
And now she orders him to guard her daughters hotel, giving him back a piece of his power to protect the hotel.
Alastor had hated Charlie for how she misused her amazing power for something like redemption.
Alastor hated Lucifer, for having all that power, being the strongest demon in hell, yet taking it for granted while mocking him about his choices.
And Alastor hated Lilith, for trapping him again, and renewing his endless cycle of suffering.
So those are my thoughts about Alastor. I think you can tell he's my favorite. I just love his powers and lore.
Shadow Trails
This is just a random fic idea where just Alastor and Husk switch roles in Hazbin Hotel. It's taken over half of my brain. (I'm still gonna update A World Without Him). (Also, it's almost all Alastor centric)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*Before the hotel*
The dark red surface of the Pride Ring is almost completely silent, which isn't unusual this time of year. Only the occasional demons' screams and feet splashing against puddles could be heard through the vacant roads.
Yellow acid rain relentlessly pangs down onto the pavement that travels through the city. Roaring thunder can occasionally be heard through the pounding rain.
All shops are closed, with no light or movement coming from inside. Even the brothels are shut down for the night in preparation for what the morning after tomorrow will bring.
An out-of-place golden clock tower is right in the middle of this city. Second by second, the clock counts down. Just as the 24-hour mark hits, the clock lets out 4 clangs from the bell nestled at the top.
The acid rain seems to fall harder and faster after the bell chimes finished. It seems to never end as it incinerates any small vermin still running around the drunken streets.
The stacked and bunched-together buildings stand tall, though, seeming undisturbed by the new onslaught of downpour.
This is probably why no one noticed the clouds that started to unnaturally swirl. When they darkened into voids that sucked in the redish lights from below.
When the acid turned a toxic green from those transformed clouds, that acid which could easily eat through sinners bone.
The wind picked up, swirling the green into a funnel-like shape, with the clouds of void following suit quickly.
A bolt of black lightning suddenly struck through all the drops of colored acid at once through the center, evaporating the perfect shape and the void fell down in drops from the clouds.
A big swarm of green is all that was left of the incident, slowly dissapating until all that was left was the blob of void and a crumpled body at the middle of the strike site.
The void slinked into the beings shadow before anything else. Then the body writhed in pain as it stumbled to its feet. Black soot covered its clothes and head, as it coughed up more black, then took a breathe, before finally standing straight.
"Where-" The being stopped talking as it's voice came out with major feedback. It tried to cover its ears, but realized they were... further up than they were supposed to be?
It suddenly looked at what it was wearing. Black dress shoes, brown slacks, a black belt, dark brown undershirt, some black framed glasses, and a brown overcoat to match the slacks. Yet everything seemed worse for wear.
The left sleeve of the coat was completely torn off, seemingly in a violent fashion, with the right shoulder having been torn through both layers. The slacks were no better. The right had a torn patch near his lower thigh, and the right had a big hole on the outside of his calf. His glasses were shattered in both lenses.
It huffed in annoyance. Couldn't this place have transported it into something at least a little more decent?
It finally looked at the shining clock tower in the distance, seeing it slowly counting down to... something it didn't know.
It had a bad feeling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The neon lights were blinding to anyone who stared for too long, with many arrows and signs pointing to store entrances.
These small establishments are trying to get the demons attention among all the other bright and colorful lights on Betters Way.
At the end of the road lies the biggest of all the buildings. At least 13 stories high, with all the lights shining even brighter than the others before it.
Cards symbols and gambling chips mark the exterior design, with some being part of the neon light all over the front of the building.
At the top is where the owner stays and works. Who is now currently on some of the lower floors because of his secretary's whining.
He'd been doing a routine check of the tables, seeing if any souls wanted to gamble with the King of Cards himself, when he saw sinners betting around a lobby TV.
He went to check and make sure people weren't loitering when he saw what was on. The Princess of Hell fighting Katie Killjoy, the reporter, on 666 News. Which was weird because all his TVs were supposed to play in the lobby were ads.
The demons in front of the TV had started to make bets on who would win the scuffle, yelling at the TV and starting to make a ruckus.
He sighed before intervening. "Well what do we have here, gents?" He spoke behind them, spooking some to turn away from the frankly loud fight.
Some started to berate him for interrupting while others ignored his presence completely. Damn, had it really been that long since he'd been out in public that no one recognized him? He needed to up his game.
In the end, he riled the sinners up a bit, let them dig their own graves before offering a 'simple' bet, while after he got a few more extra souls to his overlord name.
Not that he would force them to do anything. That privilege was for special cases. He can only hold so many cards in one deck at a time.
But that fight on the TV did intrigue him. What happened for the "sprinkles and rainbows" Princess to go ham on that she-devil? He remembers some subtitles about a hotel. Did the princess start one?
He decided to leave those thoughts for later as he went back up to his office. He did need to get his name out again. Maybe he could pay a visit to that hotel sometime, see if it's a good investment.
Previous || Next
This is so good!!!! I especially love the staff!
I was at another con today and took more pics in my Tang cosplay, so might as well post them :)
I love his wavy hair and freckles!! Looks great!
shes his little buddy
REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!
IF YOU TAG AS SHIP I WILL BLOCK YOU
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A World Without Him
Chapter 9
(TW a lot of blood, slight suicidal thoughts, and unsettling imagery)
Tang knew he was no longer in his bed. The calm darkness was replaced with an atmosphere of suffocation: like if he were to move even an inch, he would trigger something to happen. Everything just felt wrong.
He already knew this wouldn't end well for him. Every time he ended up in this dreamlike state, it always ended up in him getting dragged some way or another. He didn't think he could handle something like that again. Not right now.
But he also knew whatever was in store for him would always begin eventually; no matter what he did, something always happened to him. So, he decided instead of sitting still with his eyes closed like a sitting duck, he would try to figure out where he was first, at least.
So then, he slowly opened his eyes to a strikingly blank room. A very different start to most of his dreams. A steril, white space greeted him; the room had no windows and yellow fluorescent lights. The bland seats and decor didn't take away from the emptiness he felt from this place.
The room felt suffocating. He didn't know if he could keep still. He couldn't breathe.
Suddenly, a door opened to his right, and a tall man with a white coat walked out steddily. His footsteps were silent, and his badge was weirdly in focus with the letters MSH spread across its side in golden ink. Was there a door there before? I didn't think...
But before he could continue his train of thought, the doctor(?) spoke to him curtly. "I'm afraid he had lost too much blood. We couldn't find the rest of his leg, so we couldn't even try reattachment without a donor. We tried our best to keep him stable, but we weren't able to save him." The voice was muffled: as if it were underwater.
"...What?" Tang asked hesitantly. He really didn't know what he's doing here in the first place. Also, he didn't even know anyone who was in the hospital to dream about! The last thing he remembers was his quiet walk to the library and...
Barely anything had happened after that, with the norm of setting up shop at the library, and then lounging around with a few people checking out the occasional book. Everything was fine! The last thing he even remembered from work was rambling and sharing comics with... Allan.
Allan, Allan.... what happened? I dont know why I keep thinking about him...
Something horrible suddenly hit Tang's nose, causing him to cough a few times. A sickening smell of copper and rot started coming from the door. He shot his head towards the source and saw how it was now mangled and covered in red splotches. Blood gushed out from under it as the crimson liquid encompassed the entire checkered floor.
Tang was all but frozen in place as all he could do was stare in horror. Then everything came rushing back like a punch to the gut. Blood had slowly dripped down onto the parking lot and stained its path a striking red. The blank look in his eyes as he was rolled away to who knows where-
Oh my god, ALLAN!
Tang then sprung out of his chair and rushed past where the doctor used to be, splashing the red onto his pant legs as he ran without care. As soon as he made it to the rotting door, he slammed it open and saw many nurses standing eerily still, parting for him and making a straight path ahead down the long hallway. Their eyes were blank as they stared into his head.
But he didnt notice. All he could think about was running. Getting there in time before something happened. Getting there before they were gone. Getting there before they STOPPED BREATHING-
He could feel the red slowly creep up his ankles. As he kept running faster and faster, the blood slowly rose higher and higher with him. The nurses surrounding him began to wane as the walls got closer and closer. They seemed almost like statues.
That was until Tang saw it at the end of the long hallway. A hospital bed holding a thin figure with a slowing heart rate. The slow beeps echoed throughout the hall. The remaining nurses around him then started to melt into crimson mush as their eyes pierced into his back.
Tangs eyes widened, and he somehow forced himself to go faster. "Allan! Allan, please respond!" He pleaded, continuing his sprint to the still figure. The shapes of its body remained eerily still and unresponsive to the noise.
No. No, no, no. Not again. I can't have this happen again. No. You have to get up. Please.
"Please get up, Allan! I know you're in there! Just wake up!" Tang yelled as he got closer and closer. The red on the floor was now rushing against his legs while rising faster and faster.
Up and up it got as Tang kept running for what seemed like an endless hallway. The blood was up to his calves at this point, but nothing was hindering his descent in the slightest.
That was until something tried to grab onto his pant cuff from under all the red. Tang didn't notice the slight tug at first, too busy putting one foot in front of another.
That was until more tried to do the same.
FUCK. Why now why now why now!?!?!? He had finally noticed after the hands lifted above the murky crimson surface that were trying to grab onto more than just a pant cuff.
The hospital bed was now nowhere in sight; it had faded from view. Now it's just an endless hallway full of blood and shining red hands grabbing at him from under the bloody floor.
His stress levels had hightened as the blood began to rush against his legs, causing more force to push him back into the hands. Even through his hysteria, Tang knew he couldn't keep the pace for much longer. More and more hands kept slinking up from the crimson depths that he doubted if he could even make it to the next step.
And he was right.
A sudden burst from the ground threw Tang and a wave of red back towards the now hundreds of shining hands. He landed on his back as he was blinded by the crimson liquid. The shockwave of red flew over him and he was submerged; he choked on the metalic substance as he was thrown further and further back.
When he was finally dropped harshly onto the bloody concrete floor, the hands had disappeared, and all that was left was him, the red hallway, and the thing in front of him. Blood dripped from his brow as he looked up to what had thrown him back.
And now he wishes he had kept his eyes closed. He didn't know what he was looking at, but he knew that it was dangerous. The humanoid figure stood floating above the gap in the ground with a continuous buzzing, which was the only thing he could hear.
The area where it came from was now stretched beyond recognition; the floor had been splintered badly where the thing stood. The red now rushed forward instead of against him, slowly pouring into the new hole that goes to... somewhere he doesn't want to know.
Tang could feel it rush past him and lulling forward, though the force never moved him even an inch. It felt more like a familiar breeze than gallons of blood rushing forward into some vacant void. His breaths were slow and deliberate as they echoed in his ears.
He could've collapsed right then and there if he could. The red ran out through the hole, and all that was left were puddles instead of the hulking mass it used to be.
But something just always took away any peace he had. Before he could even think of closing his eyes, the figure in front of him burst open with a loud bang. "AHHH!" Tang had yelled in surprise as the pieces flew over him.
Wait, flew?
He quickly looked back to where the body had been before. The top half is completely gone and buzzing loudly with something crawling around the figure.
You have got to be kidding me... he thought, exasperated. He could see each and every individual bug on the body; everything glowed a soft orange that burned into his gaze.
Tang was tired. Tired of these stupid dream sequences, tired of whatever God decided to make his real life hell, and tired of how he wasn't able to stop any of it. Everything went on without him. Nothing would change if he were gone. Nothing would be different now than if he had just disappeared under that rubble.
A sudden woosh from in front of him was all the warning he got before swarms and swarms of orange surrounded him. They crawled along his clothes, whispered into his ears, pulled him up and forward.
His heartbeat echoes through his head as he suddenly knows he had moved. Now he was falling. Falling and falling through the endless void under his dreams. Nothing would stop his descent. Nothing would be there for his two fall onto. No one was coming for him. He closed his eyes.
...
...
...
He suddenly felt warmth surround him. A solid surface under his weight. Something had caught him.
Tang could feel the surface move, bringing him up and out of wherever he had been before. The air felt lighter, almost as if the world was encompassed in the suns rays.
Yet everything still felt restless. An anticipation so great is glowered on the prison itself.
Prison?....
Suddenly, an unwelcome voice entered his head.
Yes. Why don't you open your eyes for me? I've been waiting for something like this, you know.
And Tang didn't know why he followed along. Why he felt compelled to open his eyes and look forward. Yet he did so without hesitation.
He was in the palm of its hand. The orange, glowing hand that held him like a delicate flower. Dark shackles were attached to its wrists, slowing its movements.
Yet that didn't stop it from looking down onto him with its big, beady eyes. It seemingly looked into his soul, seeing through him with an almost smug air around it. The cicada head and the multitude of wings behind it just added to the unrealness of the situation.
But then it just smiled, or what could even be considered a smile for something like that.
You're perfect.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For the first time in a month, Tang felt well rested. He eyes were glued shut with exhaustion, yet his mind felt clear. His memories if the dream felt foggy, yet calming and nostalgic.
He had checked the time on his dying phone and even found out that he had gotten up at a reasonable tike for once! Given, it was only 7:00 AM, but this was better than usual.
Then that peace, his so fragile peace that seemed to always get broken every chapter, got shattered when the smell of smoke entered his nose.
That got him up and out of bed as he quickly threw off the sheets and saw how the edges of his blanket had been burned slightly. The wisps of ash flew up and out the open window; a slight breeze flowed through the room, taking them away.
He could only try to pat the charred edges with his hand to put the small flames out. The window had been opened again, and he swore he had closed it yesterday. But then again, almost everything from yesterday was hazy.
After he made sure his blanket wasn't going to burn his bedroom down, he slinked out of bed and threw the blanket into trash beside the kitchen. It bunched up over the already overflowing can, but stayed in place.
Tang carefully maneuvered around his ruined living room, dodging any stray pieces of glass or splinters sticking out of the carpet. He jumped straight onto his couch and reached for a random book on his messy floor.
The one he had picked up was one of his favorites: The Origins of JTTW. This had always been the most accurate in a sense of real archeology used in the sources along with many scholarly accounts backing the piece up.
It was also his first book in his collection. Something from a long time ago that someone else definitely would have kept in a box or charity.
He absent-mindedly flipped through the pages: seeing the same images and the same words in the same order over and over again tends to give you a sense of what to expect.
Then, a familiar face came into view. Something that jolted his foggy memory. A bipedal, golden cicada in long robes stood as the focus of this page. The many limbs and wings attached to its body couldn't be mistaken for anything else as the rest of his dream faded away into his mind.
Tang's eyes shot wide as he continued down the page. The power of resurrection. A disciple of Buddha. A being of chaos. A sign of transition and renewal.
Things kept getting more complicated as he finished reading the page. He knew that dreams were random: that they didn't have any special meaning behind them. And yet, why did this feel so important?
He didn't want to think too much about it. But now that he's... got more free time, he wants to figure out what's going on: why he keeps having these dreams, how he was able to split that table in half, and the voices he kept hearing after LBD's defeat (that had gone silent recently). He wanted answers.
I don't know what's going on. Heck, I don't even know if I'm going insane or not, but I'm going to find more. I need to figure out what's wrong with me.
And with that new stack of determination, Tang prepared a small backpack (where did his messanger bag go?) and headed off back outside with a new goal I mind.
Hopefully, this trip will be the first of his kind to go somewhat smoothly.
Previous | Next | Start
Shadow Trails ~~~~~~~~~~
The limo was silent with the swish of a window divider opening and closing in the background.
The Princess of Hell and a very pissed off lady can be seen sitting next to each other. Across from them is a famous porn star as he keeps flipping the divider switch over and over.
*swish* Up it goes. *swosh* Down it goes. *swish* Up it goes. *swosh* Down it-
"Do you even know what your little stunt did to us?" The lady growled, seemingly getting even more peeved than before.
The star stopped and rolled his eyes as he sat back into his seat. "Calm down toots, it was just a small turf war -"
The lady stood up to look him in the eyes. "Your small turf war goes against everything our hotel is about, Angel Dust! And you just had to go and do this during Charlie's interview as well! You made us look like a joke!" She spout with venom.
A hand interlocks with hers as she looks down to see Charlie holding her hand. She says, "It's okay, Vaggie." In a quiet voice. Vaggie sighed as Angel Dust started to talk again.
"Ah, no. I didn't make you look like a joke. Jokes are funny!" Angel Dust starts to wave his top pair of hands. "I made you look, eh, pathetic! Like an orphan, with no arms, who was pushed into a river or something. Damn, now you've got me bummed out."
Charlie seemed to shrink into herself as she pushed her body against the window. Vaggie sits violently back down, still holding Charlie's hand. "I'm gonna kill him." She spats.
Angel Dust giggles in his seat. "Hah! And what'll that do?" He jests, laying down even more. "Make me double dead? Send me to double hell? Sorry, but you're stuck with me, bitch. Get used to it."
Vaggie is restless in her seat, making hand motions of choking and other gestures. Charlie pulls herself from the window to pat her on the back before turning to Angel Dust. "That was really uncool back there, Angel."
"Uncool?!" Vaggie interrupts, glaring back at Angel Dust. "After an incident like that, we'll be lucky if anyone's still interested in the hotel! And that's all because of YOU and all your impulsive bullshit!"
Angel Dust suddenly sits up, seemingly more serious than he had been the entire conversation. "Wait, does that mean I can't keep crashing here?" He says while looking at the two directly.
Vaggie is about to speak before Charlie pipes up, preventing another yelling match. "Hey Vaggie, I bet we'll still have some people visit the hotel! I mean, it's not like all of hell has seen the interview, and some might still want to give it a try anyway!" She gives a reassuring smile.
Vaggie sags in her seat for a moment, then looks to Charlie, who's staring at her hopefully. She sighs as she smiles a bit back. "You're right, Charlie."
The limo arrives at the hotel a few moments later. Angel jumps out of the car first, leaving the other two a step behind.
The hotel is the same as ever when the stained glass doors open. Cobwebs in the corners, jumbled furniture all over the place, bugs running amok, and beams laying in crooked ways near the top and bottom of the floors.
Angel immediately goes for the fridge as Vaggie violently throws herself onto a nearby couch. Charlie sits down on a cloth-covered piece of furniture(?) as she thinks about what happened.
Her interview ended up in disaster, with a fight against that vile news reporter no less. Then there was Angel's fight, which destroyed a lot of the downtrodden area. Charlie's frustrated just thinking about it.
Angel, now with a popsicle in hand, starts to walk over to her. "Hey, you may need to stock up the food a bit more. Y'know, for all these wayward souls you got here!" He says while gesturing to the empty lobby with a smirk.
Charlie just sighs before rebutting Angel Dust. "I don't really need jests right now, Angel. I need to think of how people will take us seriously again after... everything, today."
Angel Dust seemed a bit shocked at that. After a couple of seconds, he frowned and started to reach out a bit. He stops right over her shoulder before pulling back and walking towards Vaggie's couch.
Charlie grumbled in frustration before getting up off the cloth. Moping won't do anything to get the hotel back up and running.
She walks back out the two entrance doors as she dials her mom's number. It rings twice before immediately going to voice-mail.
Charlie sighs before starting her message. "Hey, mom. I know you've been busy, and I keep calling, but, uh, the interview didn't go well, and I don't really know what to do now."
She takes a deep breath before continuing. "I really need some guidance, maybe some advice, or really anything just to know you're at least listening to these messages."
The line is silent before Charlie gives another huff. "Maybe dad was right. Maybe all this can't happen. Maybe I'm just chasing a crazy dream." She sniffs before continuing. "I just don't know what I can do anymore."
Charlie rubs her temple before finishing weakly. "I love you, mom." She ends the voice-mail. She walks back inside and dejectedly plops herself down in front of the doors.
She sits there for a moment.
Then, a knock sounds behind her. She gets up quickly and waits to see if she was imagining it. Another knock sounds throughout the lobby, quick and polite.
Charlie opens the door, suddenly face to face with a tall, cat-like demon with wings. He looks down, then gives her a friendly smirk.
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