ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTY-ONE TWENTY-TWO TWENTY-THREE TWENTY-FOUR TWENTY-FIVE TWENTY-SIX TWENTY-SEVEN TWENTY-EIGHT TWENTY-NINE THIRTY
The hotel was quiet, save for the occasional murmur of voices from the kitchen. Charlie and Vaggie were lounging in the lounge when a package arrived at the front desk. The shiny red box, wrapped with a glittery gold ribbon, immediately stood out as it sat near the counter.
Charlie spotted it first, ‘That’s...unusual. Who would send this here?’ she asked, walking over with Vaggie following closely behind.
Vaggie, already suspicious, narrowed her eyes at the package, ‘Probably something from that Vee,’ she muttered under her breath, ‘You know, Velvette's brand. She's always pulling these stunts.’
Charlie frowned slightly, ‘I hope not. They’ve already done enough. I don’t want any of them getting any more influence over the kid.’
Vaggie grumbled as she crossed her arms, eyeing the package, ‘Then what are we doing letting it sit here?’
‘I’ll take care of this,’ Vaggie grabbed the package and began carefully cutting the glittery ribbon, feeling more uncomfortable with each snip. When the box was opened, it revealed the expected contents—sparkling, shiny packaging and a glistening red bow, the kind of extravagant accessory that screamed Velvette.
Charlie’s face dropped. ‘Great. A ‘gift’ from Velvette,’ She moved closer, inspecting the bow, ‘I don’t want the kid getting attached to this kind of...fluff.’
You walk into the room, immediately see the sparkling red bow, and your eyes light up, ‘Oh, wow! What’s that?’ you exclaim with a giggle, rushing forward to get a better look.
Charlie’s protective instincts kicked in immediately. She placed a hand gently on the bow, blocking you from getting too close, ‘Hold on, sweetie,’ she said softly, though her tone held concern, ‘This isn't just some random bow. You can't just take gifts from people you don't know.’
You frown, confused, ‘But...It's so pretty. I like it. Can I have it?’
Vaggie stepped forward, her arms still crossed, ‘You don’t need to be taking things from people who play these kinds of games, kid. You gotta be careful about who you let in.’
Charlie knelt to your level, her voice softer, ‘I know it’s tempting, but we have to be cautious, okay? Not everyone who gives you a gift has good intentions.’
You look down, feeling a little disappointed, but nod in understanding. Charlie and Vaggie exchanged an uneasy glance, both knowing the bow had come from Velvette, who was notorious for trying to influence anybody in subtle ways.
Charlie’s expression hardened. ‘I’ll talk to Alastor. He’ll know what to do. He’s an overlord, so surely he’ll know how to deal with other overlords.’
As they were about to come to a decision, the door to the lounge creaked open, and a familiar voice interrupted their conversation.
‘Did I hear someone mention my name?’ Alastor's voice purred from the doorway. His ever-present smile was wide and unsettling as he entered the room, his eyes briefly darting to you and then to the red bow.
Charlie sighed, not surprised by his timely appearance, ‘Yes, we were just...dealing with this,’ She gestured toward the bow, ‘Velvette sent this for the kid.’
Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile stretching wider, ‘Ah, Velvette. How charming,’ He walked over to the counter, inspecting the bow, ‘Hmm...less gaudy than the pink monstrosity Angel tried to shove onto the child, I’ll give it that.’
Vaggie shot him a glare, ‘You’re not helping.’
Alastor, unfazed, turned to you with a cheerful expression, ‘I must admit, darling, it is a rather lovely shade of red. But I must agree with your protectors here. A bow is only as good as the intentions behind it. His voice took on a mock-serious tone as he leaned in, ‘And I can assure you, Velvette has very particular intentions.’
You tilt your head, still unsure, ‘So...what should I do with it?’
Charlie stepped forward, placing her hands on your shoulders, ‘We don’t want to take it from you, sweetie. But you can’t just take things from anyone, especially if we don't know what they're after.’
Alastor chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the moment, ‘If you’d like, my dear, I can keep it for safekeeping. You know, just in case someone else comes along trying to make a fashion statement,’ He winked at Charlie, his smile never fading.
Charlie hesitated, looking between you and the bow, ‘We’ll hold onto it for now. Let’s talk to Velvette about all of this...later.’
You sigh but nod reluctantly, ‘Okay…’
Alastor gave you a playful tap on the head, still grinning, ‘Good decision. Trust me, darling, you’ll be better off with me on your side,’ He winked, adjusting his bowtie before turning to leave, his laughter echoing behind him.
Vaggie and Charlie shared a glance, silently agreeing on the plan. You were off-limits for any more Vee influences for the time being.
EVENING
The hotel was winding down for the night, its usual chaos dimming into soft murmurs and low lighting. The lounge glowed with the golden haze of antique lamps, and from a dusty old radio, jazz floated lazily through the air. Alastor sat perched in his favourite chair, legs crossed, a steaming cup of something strange and bitter held delicately in his fingers.
He didn’t look up when the soft sound of little footsteps approached, but the corner of his mouth curled with recognition.
You padded into the room, duck plush tucked beneath one arm. You stop in front of his chair and sit down cross-legged on the rug without a word.
Alastor finally glanced down, his grin widening, ‘Evening, little shadow. Trouble sleeping?’
You shake your head, looking thoughtful, ‘No. I was just…thinking.’
He set his cup down on the side table and leaned forward slightly, hands clasped over one knee, ‘Dangerous habit, that. But do go on.’
You look up at him, eyes wide and serious, ‘Why is it okay when Miss Rosie gives me things…but not Velvette?’
Alastor’s smile didn’t falter, but it softened into something more subdued. He regarded you carefully for a beat, then leaned back in his chair with a hum, fingertips tapping together.
‘Well now, that is quite the question,’ he said, almost pleased, ‘You’re learning to see the difference between what is given…and why.’
You hug the duck plush a little tighter, but say nothing.
Alastor continued, his tone calm, measured, ‘Rosie gives because she wants to make you smile. No games, no strings. She’s all warmth and teacakes and gentle affection. She sees you and says, This child deserves something sweet.’
You nod slowly, listening closely.
‘But Velvette…’ Alastor’s smile turned a touch colder, though still polite, ‘Velvette is charming, glittery, and clever. She sees a stage in everything. When she gives something, it’s not always out of kindness. Sometimes, it’s a strategy. Appearances. Performance.’
He leaned forward slightly, voice lowering just a bit, ‘She gives because she wants others to see her giving. There’s a difference.’
You tilt your head, ‘So…Rosie gives me treats because she likes me. But some people give things because they want something back?’
‘Precisely,’ Alastor replied, a hint of pride in his voice, ‘Some gifts are genuine. Others are just traps dressed in ribbon.’
You think for a moment, then look up at him with a small smile, ‘You’ll tell me if something’s a trap, right?’
He reached out, ruffling your hair gently, ‘Every time, dear.’
You let out a quiet breath and lean against the side of his chair, ‘Okay.’
Alastor’s grin returned in full, though a little softer now. He sipped his tea again, casting a glance at the radio. As the jazz murmured on, the lounge settled into a peaceful silence—one shared between two very different souls, bonded by quiet understanding.
You stand up, brushing imaginary dust from your knees, you hesitate, duck plush still clutched to your chest. You didn’t quite meet Alastor’s eyes as you mumbled, almost too quietly, ‘I only wanted the red bow…because you and Miss Rosie said red suited me.’
Alastor’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments, a flicker of something unspoken passing through his eyes. Then, with a soft chuckle, he tilted his head and regarded you fondly, ‘Well,’ he said, voice a touch more sincere than usual, ‘that’s a very good reason indeed.’
He didn’t promise to get you another. He didn’t need to. You give him a small, sleepy nod before padding off toward the hallway, duck in tow.
Alastor sat there for a moment longer, swirling the last of his tea in the cup, already plotting something quietly mischievous. After all, if you wanted red, then red you would have. Just not one that came from Velvette.
It didn’t take long before a phone call was made, a quick, secretive conversation with Rosie, whose voice crackled through the line, full of mischief.
‘It’s all set,’ she whispered, a gleam in her tone, ‘The bow will be ready in the morning. It’s just perfect—a little bit of her and a little bit of us.’
Alastor smirked, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction, ‘Marvellous. No sparkles, no frills. Simple, old-fashioned. Let’s see if she appreciates it.’
NEXT DAY
Alastor patiently waited, his fingers tapping against the front desk as you played near the lounge. When the delivery arrived—a package wrapped in plain brown paper with a simple twine bow—Alastor casually made his way over, his eyes gleaming with barely-contained amusement.
You blink in surprise when you see Alastor approach, holding the package carefully. ‘What’s that?’ you ask, your voice bright with curiosity.
Alastor leaned down, handing you the package with a playful grin, ‘A little something from me and Rosie,’ he said, the implication there, but not too obvious, ‘You’ll find it suits you.’
Carefully, you peel away the paper, revealing a deep red bow, no glitter, no shimmer. Just a rich, vintage red, tied in a delicate knot with soft satin fabric that looked like something you might find from a different era.
The bow was stunning in its simplicity, clearly old-fashioned but with a timeless quality to it, like a piece of history made to be worn now. It was perfectly imperfect, just like you.
You smile, your eyes lighting up as you hold it up to your hair, ‘It’s…it’s not sparkly! But it’s beautiful!’ Your smile widened, and for a moment, you hesitated, ‘It feels… special. Thank you.’
Alastor beamed, knowing full well that Rosie had outdone herself, ‘I thought you’d appreciate something with a bit more class,’ he said, giving you a nod of approval.
You gently tied the bow in your hair, running your fingers over the soft fabric as you looked into the mirror, admiring your reflection.
Alastor leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face, ‘Red suits you, my dear.’
And as you turned to thank him again, there was a gleam in Alastor’s eyes that spoke of future plans—plans that didn’t need the glimmer of Velvette’s collection to stand out. Alastor wouldn’t lose you to any of the vees, no matter the cost.
So it turns out there's a limit to how many links you can add it into a single post. So my old 911 masterlist is now the Evan Buckley masterlist, and this is a separate one for Eddie.
gummygunk
kianamaiart
origamiaround
romaincrisis
andulkaphoto
