This blog is a semi-selective, mutuals only RP blog for Alastor and Charlie Morningstar from Hazbin Hotel. Here are a few things to know!
Mun is 40+ years old; please address me as Selph
Please be 21+ to interact with me. Hazbin Hotel is an ADULT animation show. There will be references to violence, sex, drugs, cursing and all kinds of other adult things so 21+ is required.
No drama llamas.
No god-modding.
This is considered an independent blog, meaning most relationships are in their own separate universe. There are a few exceptions but if an ask is sent about a specific universe, please specify or you'll likely get the default universe.
Also with asks, please specify if it's for Charlie, Alastor or both, or I would will make an executive decision on who will answer.
I will do my best to tag things in general, but if I am not tagging something that bothers you, please nicely mention it to me so I can correct that.
If we're mutuals and I attempt to RP with you a few times and you either keep dropping or ignoring my threads, after a couple reminders, I'm going to assume you're not interested in interacting and I will unfollow you. If I followed you it's because I'm interested in interacting with you!
I've been writing these characters since 2019; if I have a pre-established relationship with you already, great! If not, or if you want a reset, the writing may be a little different due to the show release.
No magic anons please. I find it hard sometimes to keep up with them.
Talk to me if you ever have questions or concerns!
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Alastor stared at Michael from across the hotel lobby, watching the angel just sitting there on the couch like he owned the place. Well, he most certainly did not. Lucifer and Michael be damned, this was his hotel. He was the one who was here from the beginning.
He started sauntering his way across the room and towards the arch angel, his eye twitching ever so slightly at the thought of Michael daring to use his 'given' name again. It didn't matter, he reminded himself. No one else was in the lobby so no one would hear it and besides, he had come up with the perfect comeback if Michael chose to be so brazen.
Sitting down on the chair that was next to the couch, Alastor straightened out his coat before addressing their 'guest'. "Tell me, do you agree with the princess that anyone can be redeemed?"
Indeed, the angel does look rather comfortable. Or at least as comfortable as a being like him tends to get in the depths of Hell. A cup of coffee (which does nothing, he just like the warmth) in one hand and a folder of reports in the other.
He is, of course, aware of the Overlords presence even before he begins to cross the room, but he waits until the Sinner takes a seat and addresses him before he snaps the folder shut and dismisses it in a spark of golden light, leaning forward to set his coffee down on the table between them before finally raising his eyes to him.
“I agree with the ministry of the Lord Jesus Christ, but I am convinced by the Princess that His Grace may be extended to all those who seek it earnestly, even in the Pit it seems.”
He leans back, crossing one leg over the other, steepling his fingers before him.
"Being someone who has people as well, I know that some projects require a personal touch," Alastor replied, dismissing the idea that Michael absolutely wouldn't feel the need to get involved.
Ah, so rather than subscribing to the idea that Hell was other people, the saint believed that Hell was yourself. An interesting theory but not one that Alastor believed in. Hell was definitely other people.
The Overlord froze like a deer in headlights at the mention of his mother. He knew she had to be in Heaven but he hadn't thought of her in so very long.
"Maman," he said the title barely above a whisper and with a softer tone than he almost ever used.
No, they couldn't have met. Michael was just guessing. All sinners had a mother and a father, it wouldn't be too much of a gamble to mention one of his parents to him to catch him off guard.
But Michael also knew his given name. Maybe he did know if she was in Heaven.
The Radio Demon cleared his throat, his tone returning to normal, convinced that they hadn't met. Why would Michael take the time to meet a random sinner? Alastor's mother was special indeed but not a star like himself. She tended to stay in the background.
"Then you clearly haven't met her. My mother would not be happy to see me knowing the things that I have done and the things that I will do. Nor does she need to know," he added the last part a bit sharply.
“Some do, yes. But given that I have been doing this since long before humans discovered fire, I can assure you that that would not be one such project.”
Disbelief, all that he had expected. Hell inspired a special sort of mistrust in people, and the actions of the Host had only hardened it into something that would take a great deal of effort to breach. Time and effort, as with all things.
The freeze, the whisper, the barest image of the young boy he had been spoken to of over roasted chicory coffee and lovingly prepared jambalaya. They’re always in there somewhere, the child and the innocence, no matter how deeply buried.
“Do you think that she does not know that you are in Hell? Do you think that she never asked why her beloved son had not come to Heaven? Alastor, Mrs. Hardaway is a lovely woman but she is also not an idiot.”
“Furthermore, I am not an idiot. I did my research and due diligence before coming to Hell. Do you think that a good Catholic woman would turn down a polite visit from the Hand of God, especially with the possibility of her dear boy being redeemed into heaven fresh on her mind?”
Alastor physically bristled faced with the fact that Michael had indeed met with his mother. Anger bubbled beneath the surface, mostly because the deer demon didn't know how else to process what he was feeling and anger was... easy.
"Of course she wouldn't!" he declared with exaggerated enthusiasm his smile tighter and wider along with his eyes. "Do tell me; were you the one to break the news to her that her only child is a serial killer and mass murderer?"
He wanted to murder whoever had broken his mother's blissful ignorance of what he had become. She deserved better. But if it had been Michael himself that would be problematic.
“I was sparse with precise details, of course. No need to harm her further with with the exact nature of your crimes. But she asked, and I was not going to lie. Not to her, and not for your selfish benefit.”
The same cool delivery as he has met all other statements and queries, even as he feels the others anger swell and boil, the angel favoring Alastor with a curious once over. There is a slight mournful note in his tone, however. He does despise seeing any of Heavens citizens in distress.
“Of course, I reassured her that part of my mission is to see to the redemption of all those who seek refuge at the hotel, her beloved Jamie included. Which I do intend honestly, Alastor. I suppose all that I have to ask you is whether whatever machinations you have planned in this cesspit are worth dashing your mother’s hope, and breaking her heart once more.”
"It's not for my benefit, it's for her own," Alastor snapped irritably, some static feedback in his voice.
He couldn't kill Michael. As much as he may want to, it just wasn't going to happen.
At least he hadn't given her the details. That was something.
"Jamie is long gone and I....," he said, his voice returning to normal as he looked off to the side, avoiding looking directly at Michael. "... need time to consider it."
There had to be some kind of catch, some kind of strings attached to this deal and he wasn't sure it was worth even asking about yet. He needed space to think it through.
He stood up, standing straight and placing his hands behind his back. "For now, I have a broadcast to produce."
And people to murder for said broadcast but he chose not to mention that part.
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"So this is the hotel. It's quite grand." For once Sera actually had some free time so she wanted to journey down and see how things were going with redemption.
"Let me ... adjust my form. I'd rather not have to get on my knees to go through doors." She half joked, shifting her size to be roughly as big as Angel Dust. It also helps her not stand out nearly as much.
"Yes! Yes, this is the hotel," Charlie smiled up at her, happy to have her as a visitor.
"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!" she beamed at her as she held the door open once Sera had shifted to a smaller size.
[ Millie to Alastor ] "Howdy, Mister Alastor. Were you still in the market for some of that hu-man meat? I may have been able to sneak a little somethin' in if ya wanted to give it a sniff."
"Indeed, I am," Alastor smiled fondly down at the imp, pleased she had remembered. It had been worth mentioning to the rag tag team and of course of all of them it would be Millie who would come through for him.
Alastor stared at Michael from across the hotel lobby, watching the angel just sitting there on the couch like he owned the place. Well, he most certainly did not. Lucifer and Michael be damned, this was his hotel. He was the one who was here from the beginning.
He started sauntering his way across the room and towards the arch angel, his eye twitching ever so slightly at the thought of Michael daring to use his 'given' name again. It didn't matter, he reminded himself. No one else was in the lobby so no one would hear it and besides, he had come up with the perfect comeback if Michael chose to be so brazen.
Sitting down on the chair that was next to the couch, Alastor straightened out his coat before addressing their 'guest'. "Tell me, do you agree with the princess that anyone can be redeemed?"
Indeed, the angel does look rather comfortable. Or at least as comfortable as a being like him tends to get in the depths of Hell. A cup of coffee (which does nothing, he just like the warmth) in one hand and a folder of reports in the other.
He is, of course, aware of the Overlords presence even before he begins to cross the room, but he waits until the Sinner takes a seat and addresses him before he snaps the folder shut and dismisses it in a spark of golden light, leaning forward to set his coffee down on the table between them before finally raising his eyes to him.
“I agree with the ministry of the Lord Jesus Christ, but I am convinced by the Princess that His Grace may be extended to all those who seek it earnestly, even in the Pit it seems.”
He leans back, crossing one leg over the other, steepling his fingers before him.
"Being someone who has people as well, I know that some projects require a personal touch," Alastor replied, dismissing the idea that Michael absolutely wouldn't feel the need to get involved.
Ah, so rather than subscribing to the idea that Hell was other people, the saint believed that Hell was yourself. An interesting theory but not one that Alastor believed in. Hell was definitely other people.
The Overlord froze like a deer in headlights at the mention of his mother. He knew she had to be in Heaven but he hadn't thought of her in so very long.
"Maman," he said the title barely above a whisper and with a softer tone than he almost ever used.
No, they couldn't have met. Michael was just guessing. All sinners had a mother and a father, it wouldn't be too much of a gamble to mention one of his parents to him to catch him off guard.
But Michael also knew his given name. Maybe he did know if she was in Heaven.
The Radio Demon cleared his throat, his tone returning to normal, convinced that they hadn't met. Why would Michael take the time to meet a random sinner? Alastor's mother was special indeed but not a star like himself. She tended to stay in the background.
"Then you clearly haven't met her. My mother would not be happy to see me knowing the things that I have done and the things that I will do. Nor does she need to know," he added the last part a bit sharply.
“Some do, yes. But given that I have been doing this since long before humans discovered fire, I can assure you that that would not be one such project.”
Disbelief, all that he had expected. Hell inspired a special sort of mistrust in people, and the actions of the Host had only hardened it into something that would take a great deal of effort to breach. Time and effort, as with all things.
The freeze, the whisper, the barest image of the young boy he had been spoken to of over roasted chicory coffee and lovingly prepared jambalaya. They’re always in there somewhere, the child and the innocence, no matter how deeply buried.
“Do you think that she does not know that you are in Hell? Do you think that she never asked why her beloved son had not come to Heaven? Alastor, Mrs. Hardaway is a lovely woman but she is also not an idiot.”
“Furthermore, I am not an idiot. I did my research and due diligence before coming to Hell. Do you think that a good Catholic woman would turn down a polite visit from the Hand of God, especially with the possibility of her dear boy being redeemed into heaven fresh on her mind?”
Alastor physically bristled faced with the fact that Michael had indeed met with his mother. Anger bubbled beneath the surface, mostly because the deer demon didn't know how else to process what he was feeling and anger was... easy.
"Of course she wouldn't!" he declared with exaggerated enthusiasm his smile tighter and wider along with his eyes. "Do tell me; were you the one to break the news to her that her only child is a serial killer and mass murderer?"
He wanted to murder whoever had broken his mother's blissful ignorance of what he had become. She deserved better. But if it had been Michael himself that would be problematic.
Alastor adjusted his lapels, basking in the praise of how wonderful his swamp was. He did take pride in it.
He led the princess past the 'hotel' part of the room and into the swamp.
"It is indeed very much like the swamps in Louisiana. As for how it got here, it's similar to how I summoned the bar area in the original hotel," he explained, walking along side her. The old hotel had been destroyed and Lucifer and team had rebuilt everything so there had been no need for him to acquire a new one.
"I pulled it out of a part of Hell and placed it in the hotel. The swamp is originally from Greed where helligators are natives. That was relatively quick. The modifications to make it appear more Earth like, well, that did take some time," he admitted, letting his fingers graze along some hanging vines from a tree.
"Tell me, Princess, have you been to Greed very often?" he asked curiously. As a sinner, he, of course, had never been. Not for lack of trying though. He was often trying to cook up ways to break the rules of Hell.
With wide eyes and the urge to look at everything, she followed him into his personal swamp.
"I didn't realize that's how you summoned the bar!! I kind of figured you just materialized it!" That's how her dad usually did things anyway, but it made sense that Alastor's powers were different! "But that makes a lot of sense, especially for something as big as this!!"
But his mention of the modifications made her realize why it looked so unusual. "Oh, that explains it! I've seen the swamps in Greed before, but they've never looked quite this beautiful." Because they really do, to her. A little alien, yes, but still beautiful compared to what Greed's swamps usually look like.
"Not very often. Honestly, I think Greed is probably the Ring I've been to the least, especially after Dad and Mammon's tiff over LooLoo Land…" Which, well, may be in the past now, but was a whole thing when it was going down. "I've spent a lot of time in Envy because my ex and his family are from there, though! Which…also has a lot of water, but not quite like this? Why?"
"I've never been myself. I've only seen photographs and images on the television," Alastor admitted. This wasn't terribly surprising information though, as he was a sinner and not allowed to leave Pride. "But I am quite pleased with this little slice I have here."
He placed a couple of his fingers in his mouth and wolf whistled loudly, calling for the hellagator. It was only a moment later that a giant albino hellagator emerged from the swamps, making his way slowly over to them.
"No sudden movements, my dear. He'll behave as long as you take things nice and slow with him," Alastor explained as Chompers approached them.
As graceful and lively as Alastor usually was, he moved more methodically and carefully, kneeling down and petting Chompers on the snout. The hellagator gave a pleased gurgle in return but kept his eyes on Charlie. She was new and had the animal's attention.
Alastor stared at Michael from across the hotel lobby, watching the angel just sitting there on the couch like he owned the place. Well, he most certainly did not. Lucifer and Michael be damned, this was his hotel. He was the one who was here from the beginning.
He started sauntering his way across the room and towards the arch angel, his eye twitching ever so slightly at the thought of Michael daring to use his 'given' name again. It didn't matter, he reminded himself. No one else was in the lobby so no one would hear it and besides, he had come up with the perfect comeback if Michael chose to be so brazen.
Sitting down on the chair that was next to the couch, Alastor straightened out his coat before addressing their 'guest'. "Tell me, do you agree with the princess that anyone can be redeemed?"
Indeed, the angel does look rather comfortable. Or at least as comfortable as a being like him tends to get in the depths of Hell. A cup of coffee (which does nothing, he just like the warmth) in one hand and a folder of reports in the other.
He is, of course, aware of the Overlords presence even before he begins to cross the room, but he waits until the Sinner takes a seat and addresses him before he snaps the folder shut and dismisses it in a spark of golden light, leaning forward to set his coffee down on the table between them before finally raising his eyes to him.
“I agree with the ministry of the Lord Jesus Christ, but I am convinced by the Princess that His Grace may be extended to all those who seek it earnestly, even in the Pit it seems.”
He leans back, crossing one leg over the other, steepling his fingers before him.
"Being someone who has people as well, I know that some projects require a personal touch," Alastor replied, dismissing the idea that Michael absolutely wouldn't feel the need to get involved.
Ah, so rather than subscribing to the idea that Hell was other people, the saint believed that Hell was yourself. An interesting theory but not one that Alastor believed in. Hell was definitely other people.
The Overlord froze like a deer in headlights at the mention of his mother. He knew she had to be in Heaven but he hadn't thought of her in so very long.
"Maman," he said the title barely above a whisper and with a softer tone than he almost ever used.
No, they couldn't have met. Michael was just guessing. All sinners had a mother and a father, it wouldn't be too much of a gamble to mention one of his parents to him to catch him off guard.
But Michael also knew his given name. Maybe he did know if she was in Heaven.
The Radio Demon cleared his throat, his tone returning to normal, convinced that they hadn't met. Why would Michael take the time to meet a random sinner? Alastor's mother was special indeed but not a star like himself. She tended to stay in the background.
"Then you clearly haven't met her. My mother would not be happy to see me knowing the things that I have done and the things that I will do. Nor does she need to know," he added the last part a bit sharply.
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"I don't really know how to explain it but .... I suppose a word for it is apprehensive. I just have a feeling something is coming. I don't know what or when but something big is going to go down. Maybe I'm just paranoid?"
"That sounds swell," Alastor agreed, finding himself more relieved that she said yes than he thought he would. And she had even suggested something he would definitely enjoy.
"This Friday then," he added, deciding for them when they would go. "It's a date."
"I do enjoy dancing," Alastor smiled fondly at her. She knew him well.
"Splendid! I'll meet you here in the lobby at 7," he decided, feeling a little surprised at how excited he was for this. He found himself already picturing and planning their date.
Friday finally arrived and Alastor was waiting in the lobby at 7pm sharp. He was always very punctual. Instead of his usual red suit, he had dressed up for the occasion, wearing a pink and white stripped suit.
He was excited to see what Charlie had in store for them. Though he had a surprise or two of his own for her.
"Oh sweetheart," he reaches out lifting her chin to look at him with an index finger. "That will never happen. Im unforgettable."
And really in that moment he looked like it. Those lidded eyes, the flashy smile, the charming demeanor; he was quite striking when he chose to be.
"One day maybe centuries from now a handsome fellow will flash you a smile and you'll pause thinking it's nice but not quite as charming as a certain red haired demon you knew once upon a time," Alastor explained taking his hand back.
"As for remembering the rest of it I have a solution! Fortunately for you we both have nothing else to do and I have a recording studio upstairs where we can record some of your menories."
He hopped up off the couch and turned towards her leaning down to offer her a hand to help her up.
Vaggi blinked, her one good eye going wide at his suggestion. He was being serious here. Holy shit. "I-I don't know. I've never done that before." She tugged sheepishly on her hair, silver locks draping over her steel grey fingers.
"Music..." Came her soft murmur instead, her gaze fluttering back to the ceiling she had just been glaring at a moment ago.
"I-...I can sing my memories. Remind myself through music." The little angel explained. "...But you're not allowed to put them on the airwaves. That'll be way too embarrassing." She huffed, giving him a pointed glare.
"That's the one thing that had always stayed with me. From my life before to now. The one thing that threads it all together when my memory doesn't." She explained.
"You would know all about that, huh? Radio Demon." She said his title like an ominous summon. If he hadn't already been sitting here, she felt like he'd be beckoned by his name alone. But she couldn't deny music had power. It always had, especially here in this hotel.
Timidly, she reached out, curling her smaller hand into his larger palm, careful of his claws.
"You really wanna help me...?...What's the catch here? I'm not giving you my soul, Bullwinkle."
"No, no," Alastor said, helping her up and once she was standing, letting go of her hand. "I have other ways of getting that."
"Music has long been a part of the human experience, a way to pass tales and experiences down for generations. It is quite powerful," he added sagely, not surprised that music stayed with her.
"As long as you provide me with some amusement, that is enough for now. I told you, neither of us can sleep and I'm bored."
"Unless you had something else in mind we could do?"
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“Tonight is a good night for the other guy, not me, to die.”
Alastor, referring to Charlie's baby daddy. Whoever that may be. But it seems he must step up, and deal with this head on. Oh, he was livid. Not at her, but the situation. The man that abandoned her, the quiver in her voice when thoughts of 'oh god, what if my dad finds out' pass.
So, against his better judgement, Alastor has agreed to be the father. On paper. It seemed like a simple deal: help the princess save face, gave the spawn a comfortable childhood, move on.
But it's never that shrimple, is it?
"I- let's just leave him out of things," Charlie said, really not wanting to drag the baby daddy into this.
It was complicated. Perhaps a bit more complicated than she had led Alastor to believe. But he'd gotten the gist of it. And he was really willing to help her out.
"Are you... are you absolutely sure about this? It's a lot of responsibility... and I know you and my dad don't really get along. This is likely not to going to help that," she said.
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