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devintrinidad · 5 years

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Charlastor Week #5: Date

“Why, pray tell, are we here again?” Alastor fingered his binoculars as he gazed at the scene below them. On his face, his usual smile was pinched and wavered so slightly when he caught a glance of something that he would rather not look at. “From what I can see, our presence is not needed.”

“Because,” Charlie stressed as she, too, adjusted the binoculars that rested on her eyes. “We need to make sure that Angel Dust is okay.”

Alastor sighed and set his binoculars to rest on his chest, the straps of the binocular allowing him to do so. He tapped Charlie lightly on the shoulder, careful to not allow his claws to accidentally dig into her clothing.

“I may not be the most knowledgeable concerning…. whatever this is, but I assume our neighborhood spider knows what he’s doing. After all, doesn’t he do this for a living?” He gestured towards the aforementioned spider demon who, if one were to look closely, was smiling contently in the presence of another. “I know that you’re worried about your first patient, but isn’t this an invasion of privacy?”

Charlie fumbled for words as she tried to justify what she was doing. On one hand, she truly cared for Angel. She loved him like a brother and she knew that he felt the same for her. It had taken a while, a few years in fact, but Angel went from outright sabotaging gangster to a harmless, annoying prankster. His tendencies for evil were curbed and he was, for the lack of a better word, almost angelic. Perhaps this year, he would be eligible for an appointment from a few angels from Heaven. Of course, it would be a slow process, but Charlie knew that he had it in him. As for this current situation, well…

Could you blame Charlie for being so careful? She didn’t want Angel to be corrupted by the common sinner or worse, she didn’t want him to get his heart broken after months of therapy about his self-esteem and purpose in life.

Therefore, it was up to Charlie and whoever was willing to help her, to make sure that Angels’ progress was heavily monitored.

In this case, they were monitoring Angel’s date with a newbie who had fallen into Hell only a few weeks ago.

“Come on, Al! I thought you were all for entertainment no matter how unethical it may seem.”

“That, my dear, applies to murder, cannibalism, and general discontent. This,” he grandly gestured to the scene below, “is trivial, and frankly, disturbing.” His eyes widened in disbelief as he adjusted the clarity of the binoculars’ lenses. “What are they doing with their mouths?”

Charlie gasped and did the same. “Oh my gosh!!!” She squealed with happiness. “They’re kissing and they look so happy together and—“

Alastor clapped a hand over her mouth, which caused Charlie to look up at him in question.

“Careful, dearest. Do you really want all of Pentagram City to know that you’re stalking one of your patients? I may not care about the hotel’s main theme, but it would hinder our business.”

“Ugggghhhh, fine, “ she answered, though her voice was heavily muffled by the hand that was held over her mouth. She pushed Alastor’s hand away from her own before magicking her binoculars into a pocket dimension for safe keeping. “Since it appears our presence isn’t needed, what do you want to do?”

“The Princess of Hell in want of something to do, with me, the infamous Radio Demon? Why—“ He placed a clawed hand over his heart, a mocking look on his face. “—I haven’t felt like swooning ever since my mother last pinched my cheeks!”

“Har de har har.” Without warning, Charlie took hold of Alastor’s elbow and steadily guided him in the opposite direction of Angel’s date. All the while, she ignored how Alastor’s radio static gradually began to feel less like a radio tuning into different channels and more like a satanic ritual gone wrong.

There was a lot of screaming and moaning of the damned.

“Lighten up, Alastor!” Charlie tugged him even closer as their footsteps went from a casual stroll to outright running. “This is gonna be fun!”

Alastor’s smile tightened in annoyance.

~~~

“When I said that entertainment applied only to murder, cannibalism, and general discontentment, I didn’t mean that the general discontentment should apply to me.”

“I don’t know… I feel like this is plenty entertaining.”

“My dear, I’ve lured hordes of demons into the pitch darkness of insanity just by hearing my broadcasts. Don’t assume that you are the sole exception.”

Much to his dismay, instead of the fear that Alastor craved, Charlie merely nodded at his little spiel and politely—politely!—booped him on the nose.

Twice.

Charlie and Alastor were seated at a small cafe that Vaggie and Charlie used to frequent before life at the hotel became too hectic. Inside, there were demons that were punished for lower level sins: theft, suicide, being a disturbance to the rest of society, etc. The patrons were often undisturbed and polite, at least when compared to the rest of the denizens of Hell. In fact, when the hotel had first opened, most of those who had frequented this establishment had actually gave a thought into joining the redemption business. Not all were redeemed, however, but everyone was in a work in progress.

As it were, Charlie was entranced by the newer additions on the menu while Alastor was nursing a mug of black coffee. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, his feet tapped nonsensically on the hardwood flooring, and his smile was strained at best.

“I feel like I want to order,” Charlie announced as she snapped the menu shut. She assessed Alastor’s position and the fact that his menu was busy acting like a coaster for his coffee. Like always, his eyes were trained on hers—creepy, but not as much as when they had first met. “What say you, Al?”

He gave a long suffering sigh before gesturing towards the soup section on his menu. “Probably not the most palatable of choices, but it will have to do.”

“Food snob,” Charlie lightly teased. “You won’t like it until you try it.”

He arched an eyebrow, his foot ceasing its tapping. “Does that apply to this situation?”

“Kind of? Look, it’s been a while since we’ve had some downtime without business hanging over our heads. Why not just have some fun for a couple hours before we start filing our taxes and whatnot.” Charlie stirred in some sugar into her tea and inhaled the inviting aroma. “I mean, if Angel can go on a date, then why not us?”

Alastor’s radio static, which had been a low murmur for the majority of time they had been staying at the cafe—at Charlie’s request, of course—suddenly stopped. The dead silence, which had been foreign to Charlie ever since the Radio Demon had shown up at her door, had most of the patrons that were brave enough to withstand the Radio Demon’s presence running. However, Charlie had been more than acquainted with Alastor at this point—at this point, they could be considered friends—and she simply took another calming sip of her tea. Gone were the days where she felt socially awkward and shy around her dear friend. A perturbed Alastor was still an Alastor that didn’t have the means to hurt her. She was too powerful for that, anyway.

Besides, Alastor looked like he had sucked on the world’s sourest lemon than angry.

Which was obviously a big improvement.

“Would you care to repeat that, Charlie?”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase it.” Charlie leaned forward into Alastor space, causing him to jerk backward and away from her. The radio silence continued and Charlie couldn’t help but smirk at Alastor’s… lack of bravado. “You. Me. On a date. Now.”

Alastor blanched at that and for a moment, Charlie almost felt bad.

But this was Hell, she was the Princess of all of Hell, and she would be damned if she didn’t feel a little vindicated for all the times that Alastor had scared her in the past. Revenge was sweet whenever she was serving it.

Soon, the usual radio static resumed, although it sounded like he was flipping through channels before settling on something that sounded like slow jazz.

“Trying to lift the mood?”

“Were you requesting that we go on a date right now or…” Alastor almost sounded embarrassed. He fiddled with the tie that was wound tight against his throat and his ears, cute little things they were, had lain flat against his head. “… are we already on one?”

“Depends. You get to decide. Either way, we are going to enjoy ourselves.” With that note of finality, Charlie turned back to her tea and enjoyed the sweetness that settled gently against her tongue.

Alastor’s ear’s seemed to shudder against his head before he, too, took a sip of his preferred drink.

“A date.” He shook his head at that colloquialism, a disturbed look on his features. “Back in my day, we would call it courting and it was usually the gentleman coaxing the dame and not the other way around.”

Charlie shrugged. “It’s the twenty-first century and counting. You either get with the times or you’ll eventually be left in the dust.” She giggled quietly to herself. In a voice no louder than a mouse’s whisper, she said, “I’m older than you, but you’re acting like an old man.”

Alastor’s ears twitched in irritation. “I heard that, dear.”

“I would be surprised if you didn’t. Now, about that date?”

“I should have known that you wouldn’t forget.” Alastor drummed his fingers atop the table. The jazz that was playing in the background seemed to grow little distorted and erratic the faster that Alastor continued his little drumming session until—

“I suppose we might as well make the most of our time spent right in the here and now.” He still looked a little perturbed, but the jazz had returned and the smile that was on his face was one of gentle consideration. He had agreed. “But please, nothing untoward and violating the five—“

“The five foot rule,” Charlie chimed in, looking like she had won a million dollars worth of gold. “Don’t worry, Al! I got your back! It’s not like I would make you do anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

“This farce of a date says otherwise.” Voice dry, Alastor hummed a few bars of an old musical number he heard when he was a boy and proceeded to stand from his seat. Any demons that had not left the vicinity began to run out the doors or fall unconscious to the ground—staff included. “However, I suppose that I must bend one of my rules just this once.”

A little worried that she may have pushed his buttons a little farther and harder than what was necessary, Charlie also stood up—albeit, a little too hastily so that her seat toppled to the ground.

“Alastor, what are—“

He took both of her hands in his and smiled a smile that was fit for one of the most mischievous imps in all of Hell.

“What is a date without a little entertainment?” He whistled low under his breath and immediately, there was a change in lighting, scenery, and even the table that they had occupied appeared to be heavily laden with food. “Care for a dance, my dear?”

Charlie looked in awe at their arrangements before pulling in Alastor close so that their bodies were flush with each other. She could feel both of their bodies melding into each other as their feet seemed to know what to do.

“It would be my pleasure, Alastor.”

#charlastor week 2020 #charlastorweek2020 #charlastor week #charlastorweek #charlastor #chalastor #charlie magne #alastor #hazbin hotel #devin trinidad #devintrinidad #devin trinidad author #devintrinidad author

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detectivejigsawpines · 4 years

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Relatively Relativity-part 1 (if you go down in the woods today, you’re sure of a big surprise)

The Pineses go on a hiking trip one nice sunny day, and return...not quite how they were when they left.

Major thanks to DarylStorey for helping me brainstorm this story.

“WHOO-HOO!!!! YEAH!!!! LET’S DO THIS!!!!”

Mabel burst out the door of the Stanley Mobile like a multicolored comet, surging towards the trailhead at a speed that nearly broke the sound barrier and barely even being slowed down by the massive purple backpack she was wearing. It wasn’t until she’d reached it that she turned around and realized that her family was still taking their time catching up to her.

“C’mon guys, what’s the hold-up?” she pleaded, sprinting back across the parking lot to them. “We’ve got an adventure to go on, and lots of cool plants and animals to see! Let’s put some hustle in it, people!”

Stan stepped out of the car at a far more leisurely pace, looking less than thrilled about having to be awake at this ungodly hour of the morning (Ford had insisted that they go as early in the day as possible to avoid the heat and mosquitos). He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and muttered, “Hold up, sweetie, not all of us’ve got young legs like you.”

“Ugggghhhh, you guys are so slow!” Mabel ran over to Dipper and tugged his hand impatiently. “C’mon, let’s see if we can get to the main trail before the old fossils!”

“Who’re you calling an old fossil?!” Ford demanded in mock indignation. “I can easily get there before you, missy!”

“Five bucks says you can’t!”

“You’re on!”

Seconds later they were both racing into the woods, leaving Stan and Dipper in the dust.

Stan glanced down at Dipper. “Surprised you’re not getting in on that.”

The boy grimaced. “You kidding? There’s no way I’d beat either of them. Mabel drank a whole pitcher of Mabel Juice this morning, and Ford’s...Ford.”

One bushy gray eyebrow raised, but Stan couldn’t help feeling a little pleased that the kid seemed a lot less insecure about his physical deficiencies than he would have been the summer before, when he was obsessed with trying to become more “manly.”

Now, though, he seemed content for the time being to trot along at Stan’s side, looking around for any unusual creatures that might be in the underbrush and absentmindedly clicking a pen with his thumb, while his other hand already had his pine tree journal open in case he saw something worth sketching.

Up ahead, they could hear excited crashing and whooping; seconds later there was a loud humming noise, followed by Mabel yelling, “Hey, no fair!”

“Completely fair!” Ford retorted, “You brought out your grappling hook, so I get to use the anti-gravity application on my watch!”

Stan and Dipper rolled their eyes in unison.

“Yeah, I’d definitely lose,” Dipper sighed in resignation as they rounded the bend in time to see Mabel trying ineffectively to slow Ford down by leaping from the branch she’d grappled onto and grabbing him around the legs.

********

Eventually all members of the Pines family were back on solid ground, and they began their hike. Stan and Ford told the kids stories about some of their adventures on the high seas, and in return the kids talked about what junior high school was like (mostly pretty terrible, since junior high is one of the greatest sources of evil since the Spanish Inquisition). Both old men sympathized with their struggles, remembering all too well how difficult being a teenager was, even when you’d just barely joined the world of angst and acne.

“Of course, it has its good points too,” Ford pointed out. “You don’t have to be in old creaky bodies like we are.”

Dipper harrumphed. “I’d take dealing with that over puberty any day of the week.”

“Yeah, at least then I wouldn’t have to be worried about starting my period,” Mabel said with a grimace.

All three men glanced at her uneasily out of the corner of their eyes.

“...Have you…?” Ford started to ask.

“No, but Mom says I’m old enough that I’ll probably get my first one soon.” Despite how uncomfortable a topic this was for her, she had to smother a giggle at how her grunkles and her brother all looked like they were seconds away from running away screaming.

At last Dipper cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“Besides, if I was a grownup then I could go into stores and buy pretty much whatever I wanted.”

“Yeah!” Mabel brightened. “Like age-inappropriate romance novels, or a bunch of puppies from PetsMart!”

Stan snorted, and affectionately rubbed his knuckles against her head. “Just so long as you never grow up too much.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” she promised, before gasping in delight and going over to the side of the trail to admire a particularly vibrant flower.

“Hey, Grunkle Ford, do you know what kinda flower this is?”

Ford came over to see it, and his eyes widened behind their glasses. “...Oh my. I’ve never seen one of those before.”

Stan and Dipper peered curiously over their shoulders at it.

It was, indeed, an exceptionally beautiful flower; it looked kind of like a wild rose, except that instead of being pink, its petals were a deep royal blue, and glowing faintly in the pale morning light.

Almost in unison Ford and Dipper grabbed their journals and started sketching it.

“It looks similar to some of the plants I saw in this one dimension,” Ford murmured, “except those were sentient, and generally tried to eat anyone who got too close.”

Dipper looked uneasy, and after a second he tugged on Mabel’s shoulder, pulling her back from getting too close to it. She was a little annoyed, but didn’t shove him off like she would have the year before.

“Do you think it’s magic?” Dipper asked. “I’m pretty sure the fact that it’s glowing means it’s gotta have some kinda magic, right?”

“In this forest, I wouldn’t doubt that it does,” Ford agreed. He sighed in annoyance. “I knew I should have packed my thaumometer for the hike! Why didn’t you remind me to pack my thaumometer, Stanley?”

“Probably cuz I was thinkin’ about more important things like how much I wanted ta go back ta sleep,” Stan retorted.

“Uh, is it just me, or is the glow getting brighter?”

It wasn’t just Dipper.

What’s more, as the four of them watched, the petals began to move, waving back and forth even though there wasn’t that strong of a breeze. As if that wasn’t weird enough, the petals started waving a little faster, and as they did, the glow that was on them started to...rise from them.

No, really; before their eyes it lifted into the air as a sort of pollen, doing a little dance in the beam of sunlight above the flower and growing into an ever-increasing spiral, showing a lot more pollen than you’d think would be possible from one single flower.

Dipper blinked, and swallowed nervously.

“Um, guys? In situations like this, this is when really bad things start to happen. Maybe we should-”

The pollen cloud hit him right in the face.

********

Apparently it had smacked into everyone else too; as Dipper closed his eyes and coughed and sneezed, he could hear his family making similar noises.

It was everywhere, getting in his hair, on his clothes, even inside his clothes and making him even itchier than usual, oh come on!

Dipper stumbled back, scratching frantically and trying to spit out some of the stuff that had somehow landed in his mouth, gross!

“Ugh, what the heck?! That stuff tastes like mothballs!”

Dipper froze.

...That voice didn’t belong to anyone in his family. It was a voice belonging to a young boy, probably someone about his age.

“...Who said that?”

Dipper clamped his hands over his mouth with a frightened squeak when he heard his own voice; it sounded...wrong, somehow. Like it had actually gotten deeper, like in that story he’d told about drinking a potion that made him sound like a TV announcer!

Hesitantly he opened his eyes, blinking away any traces of the pollen that were left, looking for his family-

And came face to face with a startled-looking old woman in a baggy purple sweater.

“Aaaah! Who are you! What did you do to us?!” he demanded, lurching back and putting up his fists. Then he quickly slipped off his backpack and whirled to pull out the knife he kept in there-he didn’t know what use it’d be against a witch or whatever she was but it was better than nothing-but then two things happened at once.

One: a sudden sharp pain locked up in the small of his back, nearly pitching him to the ground with how bad it was.

Two: he got a good look at his hands.

Something was wrong with Dipper’s hands.

They were twice the size he remembered them being when he first woke up this morning, and all weird and wrinkly-looking, with a few blue veins standing out against the knuckles.

Dipper let his backpack fall to the ground, stammering in horror.

“What-what the-”

“...Dipper?” the old woman’s voice quavered behind him. “Is that you? It’s me, Mabel.”

Dipper slowly turned back around, managing to straighten up with an effort, and looked at the woman again, more closely this time.

She looked just as frightened and confused as he was right now, with a lock of her long gray hair clenched between her fingers on the left side of her head and being wrung in her hands. Her sweater looked a lot like the one Mabel had been wearing, except older and less sparkly.

Dipper looked into her eyes.

“...Mabel?”

“Yeah, it’s me, bro-bro.” She tried to smile.

Just then something moved in the corner of Dipper’s line of vision, and he turned his head to see two boys standing there and rubbing pollen out of their eyes.

One of them was wearing a tiny tan trench coat and a red woolly beanie, and when he opened his mouth to cough out some more pollen Dipper could see he had a tooth missing. The other one wore a red turtleneck with a blue coat over it, and had a pair of large spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He staggered a little, and pushed them up with two fingers. Allowing Dipper to see that his hand had an extra finger on the end.

The boy saw Dipper staring at him in dawning horror, and his eyes widened.

“Dipper? Are you-are you and Mabel old?!”

“Grunkle Stan?! Grunkle Ford?!” Mabel crouched down and stared at the boys slack-jawed. “Are you guys young?!”

********

There was a moment of silence.

Then a flock of birds was startled by four voices all screaming in unison.

#gravity falls #grunkle stan #grunkle ford #dipper pines #mabel pines #cousin to relativity falls #age swap #next summer in gravity falls #humor #hiking trip gone horribly wrong

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