#zip x ten cents

[biggsodorcitystories]

Belated Christmas/Birthday Gifts.

A delayed post for @lindseynicole1999, who celebrated her birthday on Boxing Day. She has seen these gifts privately before New Year, but I did promise that I would post them here.

Christmas Gift: Top Hat and Wendy (her OC Warrior x Top Hat fankid)

Designs belong to @lindseynicole1999

Birthday Gift: Teenage Poppy (my Zipcents fankid) as Pomni and Teenage Little Toot as Caine

Little Toot Design is @lindseynicole1999 's. Poppy is my fankid, but LN is a creative godparent to her as she has fleshed her out with me. Costumes are inspired by Pomni and Caine from The Amazing Digital Circus, a show (and a pairing) that she loves.

[biggsodorcitystories]

That's so adorable!

@biggsodorcitystories

[thepawside]

So, I just watched the entire series of Tugs and what a show! And I decided to write a little story. It's Ten Cents x reader story, hope you'll enjoy!

Warning: English is my second language, so excuse any mistakes.

Let me tell you about a time, when my little switcher tugboat Ten Cents started to act up. It was not because he was broken or any part of him was defective. No, all was caused by a new arrival to our rivals, the Z Stacks.

The day was relatively busy with new contracts and new boats arriving to the Bigg City for harvest festival.

One of the boats was a small switcher tugboat. Her hull was painted black decorated with white lines running from her bow to her stern, her deck layered with dark pine wood and her bridge painted in bright (f/c) colour.

She approached the docks already confused and scared. Sunshine was the first one to notice her.

"Oi, Ten Cents look. A switcher tugboat, what do your think she's doing here?"

"She looks lost, should we help her?"

"I suppose so."

Both of the tugs approached the new tugboat, she noticed them and smiled.

"Oh, hello. Mind helping me out a little bit? I seem to be lost."

Immediately Ten Cents seemed to be drowning in her eyes, they were like two beautiful buttons decorated with a small cute nose.

"W-well of course. What are you looking for exactly?"

Ten Cents muttered out, Sunshine chuckled hearing Ten Cents.

"I'm looking for captain Zero or just some of his tugs. I'm supposed to be working for him."

"Z Stacks? Yeah, their dock is right beside the dock barn, right over there."

Sunshine whistled, unpleasant that the Z Stacks have a new addition, another rival to add against the Star fleet. The tugboat thanked them and left for the docks, Sunshine turned to Ten Cents.

"Did you hear that Ten Cents? A new Z tug. Like they don't have enough."

Sunshine chuckled, but Ten Cents wasn't laughing with him instead he seemed stuck in place. His face covered in red as he watched the tugboat leave.

"Wha-what did you say?"

"I said isn't there enough Z tugs already?"

"Yeah, yeah...Did you catch her name though?"

Sunshine was confused, he has never seen Ten Cents like that. Needless to say neither did I. Later that day, when all the tugs have returned for the night everyone started to tell their stories from the day. When it was Sunshine's turn, he told hem about the new Z tug.

"A new Z tug? I hope that we'll keep at least some of the contracts."

Top Hat commented, laughing mockingly.

"Well, I've seen the little tugboat and she seems like a little darlin'."

Hercules chuckled, gently nudging his younger brother, Ten Cents.

"And I've seen you romancing the little darlin'."

"No, no, no I wasn't."

Ten Cents denial made everyone laugh for the night. And from that evening on every of my tugs started to call Ten Cents Romeo. It was a week later, when I sent Ten Cents and Sunshine up the river to deliver supplies. The Z tugs were there also moving some logs, Captain Zero has sent Zorran, Zip and the new tugboat for the job. And the new tugboat was having some trouble.

"Oh, all seas. Not again."

She groaned as the rope on the logs she was pulling got loose. Ten Cents was near by, moving himself to catch the loose logs.

"Oh, better be careful."

"Thank you, this is the fourth time this happened. These logs are just too heavy for me."

"No problem. Say I never got your name. My name's Ten Cents."

"My name's (y/n)."

Ten Cents blushed hearing the name.

"I like that name. Say how the Z stacks have been treating you?"

"Not great to be honest. I keep getting the hardest jobs, just so the boys can help me and be 'gentlemen'."

(y/n) complained rolling her eyes, a whistle went on in the background soon to be revealed to be Zorran.

"Well, well, well if it isn't the little Romeo? Why are you here bothering one of my tugs?"

"I'm not your tug, Zorran, and whistle off will ya?"

Ten Cents was taken back by (y/n)'s words, but chuckled.

"You heard the lady, Zorran, whistle off."

"Watch your words or I might report you to Captain Star for taking our job."

"Stop it, both of you. The logs are floating away. We need to catch them or we'll all loose our jobs."

(y/n) warned all as she drove to catch the loose logs.

After long time of Ten Cents's pleading and arguing with Captain Zero I managed to get my hands on (y/n) the little switcher tugboat. And I've never seen Ten Cents happier. Of course it took some time for our Romeo to confess, but with a little help from Hercules, Ten Cents put together a small date in the upper river waters.

"Oh what's all of this?"

(y/n) smiled as she was following Ten Cents to a small dock that was lit up by christmas lights.

"I was just wondering, you work very hard for the Star fleet and thought you might like a little break."

"Aw, Ten Cents, you didn't have to do all of this for little old me."

"I wanted to, (y/n). I was also wondering, if you..."

"Yes, I'd like to be your girlfriend silly."

"Wha- How did you know-"

"Hercules told me and pretty much everybody else."

(y/n) giggled.

"Well, I'm glad. I think I prepared something nice you'd like."

Needless to say both tugs had a nice evening that day and from there their love blossomed, becoming the infamous tale of Bigg City docks Romeo and Juliet.

[starboardsquiggly]

Together, Never Ever Alone Again

A small lookout a few minute sail from the port was where Zip anxiously found himself. He needed a walk, the yelling, constant belittlement, the jokes at his own expense was too much but… he weighed, was this not how every work place was? It must be because he’d heard how the Starfleet got on with one another when they came face to face, cracking jokes, laughing at each other. So why did this feel different to the way his fleet treated him?

There was a telescope at the look out, you could see all of the harbor through the lens for a dime, he didn’t have a dime, he was far away staring in, it felt better then being in the midst of it all. He could see his tug where he had left it at the bottom of the mountain. It needed to be treated soon, the stack puffed harshly and the shine had left the bow. Zip huffed, dangling his legs over the cliff.

He heard the sound of a match ignite. “I thought I saw someone come this.”

Before he could fall down the cliff in fright the Starfleet’s star child grabbed hold of his hand and pulled. He fell back as Zip fell forward. “Ah, shit I’m so sorry!” Zip scrambled to his knees.

He laughed. “Not a problem mate. Say…” Ten Cents took a minute to dust himself off. “What are you doin up ‘ere anyway?”

“I uh.” He un-winced when he realized no physical assault would come from this Starman. “I come up here sometimes, when it gets too loud, or too…” he wanted to say hostile. “Too much.” He agreed on.

“Aye.” Ten Cents leaned back on his hands. “Funny, I do a similar thing. ‘Cept I usually go out past Lillie Lightship when she’s not paying attention, I like that isolation of nothing but salty water filling my nose. Captain Star would kill me if he found out, so I have Sunshine back me up when I’m gone.”

“Sunshine is that new tug right? The one from up stream?”

“Sure is! whistles when he talks, has me double checking for a new ship trying to dock. He’s come a long way only after a month, but I amount that to my excellence in training him. Everyone would agree! Maybe not Top Hat, he’s to full of himself and his neck.” He laughed.

It was nice, his laugh, Zip chuckled along. It was nice to have someone to talk to aside from having to watch what he said. Ten Cents hardly knew him, but he spoke to him with the kind of respect a person would have for their long time friend. Why would he do that? What made him want to talk to him? He’s only a burden like Zorran and Zak say, why would Ten Cents want anything to do with-.

“Hey Zedstack.” Zip blinked the black spots out of his eyes, Ten Cents was waving a hand in front of his face. “Where’d ya go?”

Zip’s mouth started moving before he could think, something about Ten Cents made him do that. “Why are you still talking to me?”

The star was taken back. “Huh?”

“I-i it’s just, no one usually want to talk to me, to have anything to do with me aside from bossing me around or telling me off, I’m not much of a conversationalist since most things I say never matter and Zug says I’m no help unless the assignment is to cause a scene. And Captain Zero doesn’t usually give me any important jobs unless the others need help so I just.” He hiccupped, “why are you talking to me like I’m a person, and not a punching bag?”

Through his own tears he could no longer see Ten Cents, nor could he see the telescope or the harbor over the water. He blinked away the tears but more fell behind them and that was embarrassing, no man cries, not if they’re real men, Ten Cents is probably looking at him like he has two heads. He pulled his hat off to cover his face looking anywhere aside the boy sat in front of him.

It wasn’t until he felt a hand gingerly touch the whited knuckles that gripped the hat did he slide the hat down until he met Ten Cents did he move. He sobbed and Ten Cents pulled him into a bear hug, he was surprised that his strength being so small was so strong. He hugged back wanting to melt into the Star’s embrace and just disappear entirely. He was shaking but all that mattered to him was the embrace. He hadn’t felt anything like this in such a long time.

“No one should ever make you feel that way Zip. You are apart of their team, every team works together and needs each part to hold them up solid.” When Ten Cents pulled back Zip was surprised at his own tears that he rubbed at with the heel of his hand. “I’m sorry they make you feel that way, mate.”

“What?!” He held onto Ten Cents shoulders, “why are you crying?”

“Because you’re crying, because that stinks, because you shouldn’t have to carry all of that with you!”

Ten Cents hugged him again, Zip settled into his grasp. He could see the harbor now, but the sun had dug its way out of the clouds. It was warm, Ten Cents was warm, his chest felt warm. He could feel Ten Cents wiggle around for his pocket in their awkward position on the ground, He pulled a dime from it.

“Hercules used to take me up here when I was little, it makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. The trips on his tug over to this island made me fall in love with the water.”

They helped each other stand.

“Want to look out with me?”

Together.

“Together?”

Ten Cents put the dime in the telescope. “We can be on top of the world together. Never alone Zip. I never want you to feel like your alone like that again.”

He took the star boys hand and they took turns staring out over the harbour. Laughing at Warrior swatting off the seagulls who took off after the garbage in Lord Stinker and enjoying the far away feeling together, not alone. Zip never wanted to feel alone.

[kingdicemrwheezyflowertor]

What are some head cannons for Tugs and your Five Nights at Freddy's au?

I hope I'm not bothering you

You’re fine; Well here we go again!

Let’s start with TUGS:

I have mentioned in the past that the Tugs all knew the Titanic, well I don’t believe I mentioned that on the anniversary of her accident; They don’t do their work and Pay tribute.

In the show; They ended with Bigg Freeze (If going in a particular order), That was the last time any of the tugs were in Bigg City Port due to financial problems. (Before being sent to Sodor in the AU)

OJ has been protecting Zebedee from Johnny Cuba for years because OJ knew about Johnny’s Abusive Behavior.

Zak has a real habit of messing with people’s hair. Styling it; Playing with it, It doesn’t matter. He loves messing with it.

Don’t mess with OJ if you are a thief. That boy will Usain Bolt after ya and Tackle ya to the ground HARD! Even with his age; The Muthafucka DEADLY!

I have stated before that Ten Cents was adopted by Hercules after his mom’s death. Ten Cents has learned to cope with this by knowing that his family has always been there for him.

Zorran may show that he’s a big man and doesn’t care about his team; Deep down, He does care and it’s always slipping out.

Zip and Zug has Autism and it’s very far into the Sectrum. The first person to find out about it is Zorran (Who feels Hella guilty and becomes their papa)

Zak is VERY FLEXIBLE!! So flexible that he can do the girl from the Ring so well it scares Ten Cents and Sunshine.

Big Mickey almost had to explain himself to OJ and the others on what happened to him after the Munitions accident but he didn’t have to.

Now time for Five Nights at Freddy’s! Get ready; This is gonna be intense.

Toy Freddy has Welding/A Physical Scar on his Chest in the shape of an “X” due to a incident that almost left him decommissioned.

The Glamrocks have met the original Fnaf gang as well as the toys and the Sister location gang.

Withered Freddy is a Depressed Bear who only wants to be on stage again, The toys thankfully give him that chance at night.

Original Freddy is very oblivious to Toy Freddy having a crush on him (Because TF saw Freddy liking someone else and didn’t wanna embarrass himself)

Chica; Toy Chica; Nightmare Chica and Glamrock Chica are all great cooks! As well as Sisters; Including Withered Chica.

Springtrap and Toy Freddy have been a couple for a few years until the two talked because Springtrap loved Ballora (William Afton and his Wife kinda shipping idk)

Golden Freddy has been angry at Springtrap for years (Evan mad at William)

There is only other one Afton family member that is alive; Yeah, it’s not just Michael. It’s their son Bec (Bec belongs to my wife @lovedevildice4ever ; Thought it would be nice if I mentioned Bec.)

Glamrock Freddy is in a Poly relationship with Monty and Glamrock Bonnie (Who got fixed up thanks to Gregory and Bec).

Gregory knows a lot of things about Robots and about the Pizzeria because of the newspapers and because of looking at broken robotic machines.

Gregory views Glamrock Freddy as his father and he views Monty and Glam Bon as Papas.

Sundrop and Moondrop get their own separate bodies thanks to Gregory.

When Gregory chose to Stay in the Pizza plex; He was able to save Glamrock Freddy in time by getting the other Glamrock animatronics to come help.

In Fnaf 3; Bec was not happy when he realized he had to deal with his dad who was Springtrap.

There is one animatronic that Bec hates and that would be Funtime Freddy. BonBon is cool to Bec; Not Funtime Freddy.

Little Fun Fact for ya if you all haven’t noticed by now (Though some of you have but Idc I’m gonna say) But my Sona is literally Toy Freddy but Light Blue and having my kind of Hair.

[the-starfleet]

GOOBERS (sobbing emoji)

HAPPY TUGS DAY!!!!! Have some goobers :)

[the-starfleet]

I was wondering, if you haven't, could you share some ZipCents headcanons? If that's fine with you?

I was also wondering who Zebedee is shipped with in your AU, cause I saw a post with Zebedee wearing a shirt that said "fucked by a star" (I know it was an ask, but I'm just curious ya know?)

Hope you have a blessed day. :>

yeah man, always down for these two,,

headcanons/answer below the cut!

both of them are huge cuddlers, mostly on Zip's side.

going off the last one, Zip is the more affectionate one in terms of physical contact, like hand holding, hugs, etc.

Ten Cents is the more defensive of the two, he'll always try and be there to defend his boyf if need be.

i have no idea how to really word this properly, but if Ten Cents starts having anxiety/a panic attack/flashbacks to the Munitions incident, then Zip will definitely help him try and recover/calm down from it. he knows it affected and scarred him really badly, so he's willing to help him try and recover in a healthy way.

now as for Zebedee, he used to be with Hercules for a year and a half before they broke up, mainly because Herc was not in a good place (mentally) and seemed to be getting worse, but he's actually thankful for that because he learned how to improve so much into the man he is now. Zeb still has a very, very small crush on him but knows he's simply not interested. although they have agreed to be friends.

hope that answers your question!

[biggsodorcitystories]

Happy ZipCents Day (01/05/2023)

Just two little switchers from rival fleets having a quiet cuddle moment together

[retrobutterflies]

Velvet Kisses | e.m.

Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: Your shitty job has you turning to your almost-boyfriend for help, making both of you admit the full extent of your feelings.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Slight Angst, Major Fluff, Semi-Established Relationship, A creepy man but nothing happens

A/N: This is my brain vomit.

There were few jobs in Hawkins that were desirable. Last year you worked at the 5 & 10 and your boss didn't understand that you couldn't work shifts before 3pm because of school so he fired you for showing up late to shifts you explicitly stated you couldn't work. Over the summer you were a camp counselor and had dealt with enough crying kids and kickballs to the face last you a lifetime. And your job at the minimart lasted all of three days before the former employee who you were replacing had come back begging for their job.

But working at the gas station had to be one of the better jobs you've had. It required little brain power, the most taxing job being wresting with the cash register that seemed like it was a hundred years old. Your boss was a kind man, paying you generously and forcing his son to drive you home at the end of your night shifts. And he even let you leave early if it was a particularly slow day.

That being said, you had never encountered so many walks of life as you had at your evening night shifts at Hawkins Oil. Young kids trying to see if you'd let them buy beer, raiding the snack aisle, and asking you strange probing questions like 'Have you ever been to Skull Rock?' Older patrons frequenting the back freezers and packs of cigarette lining the wall behind you. Some people asked for strangely specific amounts of gas to be put on their pumps and others counted their change down to the last cent as if you were planning on jipping them a nickel.

The worst, however, was the creepy men whose eyes lit up at a young girl working the night shifts. They would lean in close enough so you could smell the tobacco on their breath as they asked for a lighter or gum or whatever was behind the counter so you had to interact with them. And they would purposely brush your hand as they paid, making sure to ask you questions as you hurried through the sale as if it would prolong the conversation.

Your boss made sure to never have you working alone. Either him or his son would accompany you, staring down any strange man that tried anything. It was the reason you felt safe enough to work there. And you had never had any problems until today.

"I just need to leave ten minutes early. I'll do all the inventory and clean up. All you have to do is lock up once your shift is over." The owner's son Mikey was hard to say no to. His green eyes and swooping hair made him a complete sight for sore eyes and his continuous begging throughout the day about how important this date was tonight and how he couldn't be late or he'd never find true love made you acquiesce faster than you'd like to admit. And you wanted him to be happy you just didn't want to finish your shift alone.

"All the inventory?" you questioned as if you hadn't already made up your mind. His eyes lit up as he shook his head up and down.

"All of it. And you can leave ten minutes early on Monday," he added. You smiled. You were already going to say yes but you weren't going to argue with leaving early.

"Okay, fine. But you better fall in love," you said as he jumped up, scrambling to finish the inventory count so he could leave in twenty minutes.

"I'll tell this story at our wedding," he said, his grin highlighting his sharp cheekbones. You let out a laugh.

Twenty minutes came and went and soon enough Mikey was zipping out of there, his "See you next week!" fading until all you heard was the muted buzzing of the overhead fluorescent lights. You busied yourself with doodling on the discarded receipts, pen swirling in random patterns as you waited for the minutes to tick by. The ringing of the bell on the door had your eyes flickering up as a man wandered in. You didn't think much of it at first, continuing your aimless drawing as he meandered to the back freezer. But then he made his way up to the counter, making you jump as you noticed his proximity.

"That all?" you asked, straightening up as he placed the coke can on the counter.

"A pack of reds, too," he said after a moments hesitation. You nodded, turning behind you to grab the pack of Marlboro cigarettes. When you turned back, you couldn't help but notice the uncomfortable way his eyes lingered on you.

"That'll be $3.81." He nodded, pulled a five from his wallet, and slid it over the counter.

"You can keep the change," he said. You nodded, averting your eyes down to the cash register as you loaded in the bill. When he didn't leave, you glanced up at him feeling an uneasy prickling in the back of your neck at his stare.

"Do you need anything else, sir?" you asked. Maybe he was just tired. It was late and the sun had long set now, the only light illuminating the parking lot coming from the store.

"What time do you guys close?" he asked. It was an innocent question. Many people had asked you before and you didn't bat an eye. But there was something about this time, about him asking with his oddly piercing gaze that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Ten." It was quiet for a moment, neither of you saying anything else before he nodded, gave you a smile, and headed out the door. You watched him walk into the parking lot. He turned around halfway, eyes staring back at you. He smiled, again, and you felt your gut twist more. Then he walked to his car.

You waited with bated breath, waited for him to start the ignition and pull out of the lot. But the seconds ticked by and he wasn't leaving. You counted to sixty, then sixty again. Still the car sat motionless, shrouded in the darkness of the corner of the parking lot that the storefront didn't illuminate. Why wasn't he leaving? Why was he just sitting there?

You looked up at the clock, watching the big hand tick to ten o'clock on the dot. A sudden rush of dread flushed through you. Mikey had been your ride. In his excitement, neither of you remembered that he was supposed to drive you home. Your home which sat on the other side of town. Even if you wanted to walk it would take you nearly an hour. And looking at the car quiet and unmoving in the empty parking lot made the idea of walking a fool's mission.

You hopped up quickly, heading to the door to flip the lock. Even closer up you couldn't see the driver's seat of the car. If you hadn't watched the man get into it you would've believed it was abandoned.

"Shit," you muttered.

You walked back to the counter, grabbing for the phone as your eyes kept glancing back at the car as if it was finally going to leave. You called your house phone close to seven times. You knew your parents were staying with your grandparents but your good for nothing sister was supposed to be home. She wasn't even supposed to have plans tonight so why wasn't she answering.

You felt near hysterical as the phone went unanswered for the eighth time. You slammed the phone down, sending every curse under the sun to your lousy useless car-wrecking sister who was the whole reason you didn't have a car in the first place.

The car was still there and you still didn't have any way to get home. But like hell were you sleeping in this place. You gnawed on your lip, weighing your options before his face popped into your head.

Eddie Munson. You squeezed your eyes shut, wracking your brain to try and remember the combination of numbers of his landline. You had called him two days ago. It was written on a pink post-it note taped on your mirror. You stared at it every time you did your makeup. Grabbing the pen, you flipped over an un-doodled receipt and quickly wrote down the numbers you remembered. Four . . . nine . . . three . . . Come on.

You and Eddie had started seeing each other maybe three weeks ago. You weren't exclusive and you had only gone on a handful of dates but you did call each other often. You knew his number was somewhere in your brain you just had to pry it out.

Minutes passed by and your hope was dwindling exponentially until like a light bulb the number appeared in your brain. You quickly scribbled it down before you forgot and picked up the phone, punching the numbers in.

The phone rang and you nervously tapped the pen in your hand on the counter as you waited for him to pick up.

"Hello?" You had never been happier to hear his gruff rumbly voice.

"Eddie!" you breathed, smile over taking your face. You heard movement on the other end before he responded.

"Hi Sweetheart. I was wondering if you'd call," he commented. You could hear the smile in his voice, imagining him leaning onto his counter, phone pressed to his cheek.

"I was gonna, when I got home. But I'm still at work," you said. He let out a hum.

"Still working? Did you miss me that much?" he let out a soft chuckle. You would've laughed if you weren't so on edge.

"You wish," you replied, a smile working it way onto your lips. Just the sound of Eddie's voice had your anxious nerves settling a bit. "Um, are you doing anything right now?"

"Burning some Spaghettio's. Was gonna play a little guitar but," he cleared his throat as if he was suddenly nervous. You heard movement again, "Was kinda waiting for your call. Didn't wanna miss it."

The thought of Eddie loitering around the kitchen, eyes watching the land line waiting for your call had your stomach doing somersaults. You had had a crush on Eddie for the better part of a year, hopelessly pining from a distance as your social groups were miles a part. He was always so vibrant and engaging and it was hard to miss him around school. His big brown eyes, wild hair, and general disregard for societal standards had you roped in immediately but the thought of him liking you was still a foreign concept.

When he had admitted that he had been crushing on you for years before you finally started talking because of a group project, you nearly called him out on what you thought was a blatant lie. And he was adamant that the minute he saw you, sparkling eyes and witty tongue, he was sold. But your relationship was still new, unlabelled and fresh that you struggled with what was appropriate to say or do. Was it too early to be calling him every night? Could you admit you missed him when he was away?

Sometimes, however, Eddie would say something so indulgently sweet that it took your breath away for a minute and had you bursting at the seems with affection.

"Eddie," you knew your eyes were rounding, bottom lip pushing out as you felt your chest squeeze in adoration, "That was really cute. I was looking forward to calling you all day." Your admission had him humming contentedly, his wide smile so evident in his tone.

"Yeah? I kinda wish I could've called you yesterday but duty calls or whatever bullshit," he sighed, referring to his band practice that seemed to go into the late hours of the night despite Gareth's mother's disproval.

"It's okay. I know you're a busy man," you said, tracing the side of the phone as you pictured Eddie's smile.

"Not too busy for you," he let out a sheepish laugh before adding, "You could probably convince me to cancel any plan I had. Just to see you."

You felt your heart flutter.

"Stop being cute. You're distracting me. I need to ask a favor," you said.

"Ask away. The answer is already yes," he replied, voice rumbling happily over the static. He was going to make you pass away.

"Do you think you could pick me up from work? My sister isn't answering," you admitted, voice growing softer. Your eyes flickered back to the parking lot, watching the car that still sat motionless.

"I thought that Mikey kid was your ride?" he asked. If he picked up on your unease he didn't comment on it.

"He was. We kinda forgot and he left early for a date," you explained. He hummed again and you heard movement and the jangling of keys making your stomach uncoil.

"You know, I could be your ride home from now on. So you don't have to rely on loverboy," his tone was slightly sharper as he referenced your coworker.

"He's usually reliable. He got caught up in the excitement–"

"And ditched you," he interjected, huffing at his annoyance.

"He didn't mean to. I'm not mad at him," you reassured.

"Right, no, s'okay. He works tomorrow though, right?"

"Eddie," you warned but he let out a laugh.

"I'm only kidding. Partially. I'm on my way, though, so hang tight, okay? I'll be there in like ten minutes max."

You let out a breath, nodding though he couldn't see you. When you said your goodbyes you tried to visualize what Eddie was doing to distract yourself from the foreboding silence of the empty store; door swinging shut, car beeping, keys ratting, ignition starting.

True to his word, not even seven minutes later Eddie's truck was peeling into the parking lot. You had never been so happy to see his wonky rusted old truck. You hopped up, grabbing your bag and hurrying to the door. The keys jangled loudly as you locked up behind you. As you turned around, you were distracted from Eddie's wide smile as the lights from that godforsaken car suddenly turned on. You froze, watching the red car pull out, pause, and then drive out of the parking lot.

You knew he had been waiting for you. Waiting to see when you were leaving, how you were getting home, but to see it be proven made you feel a little lightheaded. Your eyes met Eddie's as he glanced over his shoulder at the retreating headlights in the distance.

"Who was that? Not that sorry punk Mikey," Eddie asked as you hopped into the passenger seat, dropping your bag to your feet.

"No, he–" you took a sudden shuttering breath that had Eddie's mood dropping significantly, "He was a customer. And he was being weird and he's been sitting in his car for the past half hour probably waiting for me to leave."

You had never seen Eddie this angry. His joking tone before about being mad at Mikey suddenly transforming into hot anger at the idea that he had left you alone for some creep to stalk you like you were his prey.

"I'm picking you up from now on, okay? You tell that son of a bitch if he does anything other than grovel at your feet for forgiveness I'm paying him a visit," he seethed, hand flexing so his rings glinted in the muted lighting.

You turned in your seat to face him, cheek resting against the headrest as you gazed up at him. His eyes were hard, jaw clenched tight and brows furrowed. You reached out a hand to cup his cheek, thumb stroking the high of his cheekbone until his face relaxed. He turned to meet your eyes, his own softening at the look you were giving him.

"I'm okay. I have a baseball bat tucked under the counter as a last minute resort," you assured, voice soft and melodic as he leaned into your palm. His hand reached out to grab your free one, linking your fingers together and squeezing.

"I don't like you being scared," he admitted.

"My fear turns to rage pretty quickly under pressure," you hoped some humor would lighten the mood and he managed to crack a small smile at your comment.

"You'll call me if you ever need anything, right?"

"Of course," you said. His eyes trailed from your abused your bottom lip from worrying it between your teeth to the tension set in your jaw.

His free hand moved up to caress yours, holding it tighter to his cheek as his other softly stroked your palm.

"I'll never let anything bad happen to you, you know that, right?" he said, eyes burning into yours, tone soft but firm. You felt a swell of emotion in your chest. You nodded but he seemed adamant to continue, like you didn't grasp the seriousness of his words.

"I don't care if it's a paper cut or a spider or if the president himself was bothering you, I'll handle it. You call me and I'm there," he pressed, leaning in closer so you could smell his smoky cologne.

You nodded again but your throat suddenly felt tight and your eyes were prickling with moisture. He clocked the tears instantly and he was leaning in, lips pressing to your forehead, hand moving to the back of your neck, weaving his fingers into the hair at the base of your head. He massaged it gently, lips trailing kisses down your temple, to your cheeks, on your nose, and finally to your lips. You didn't realize tears had fallen until he was swiping them away with his thumb.

Your free hand clenched the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as he pressed soft, comforting, sweet kisses on your face. His hand scratched your head, fingertips swirling in hypnotic circles until he was pulling back and stroking the hair out of your face. His lips found yours again, pillowy soft and warm as if they were forcing you to relax. The tension slowly eased from your body until your head felt light and your mind gooey.

All at once you wanted to say those three sacred words. You wanted to spill all of your feelings and emotions and tell him you loved him until the sun came up. You wanted to drown in him, kiss him until you didn't know your own name anymore. And you wanted him to know you were completely and utterly sold on him. He had ruined anyone else for you.

"You wanna come to mine?" he asked, his voice close to a whisper, breath fanning over your face as you wilted at the loss of his lips. You nodded, still unsure if you could form proper words, your head spinning with thoughts of him kissing you over and over again.

The drive was quick, his right hand sandwiched between both of yours as you watched the trees whir past the window. He gave you a few sideways glances, feeling his anger at your air headed coworker swirling in his stomach. But every brush of you fingers over his tense knuckles had him deflating until he was solely focused on you and your perfume and your pretty glassy eyes.

You had been in Eddie's room multiple times but most of them were to work on that school project. Only one other time had you been here after you had both admitted your feelings. And suddenly stepping into the muted lighting, eyes trailing over the myriad of band posters, piles of records and cassettes, a mountain of laundry, and his messy unmade bed had a wave of nervousness washing over you. Eddie sheepishly pulled his comforter up, haphazardly pushing a few shirts and a few books to the ground, clearing the space.

"You want a change of clothes?" he asked, pausing his movements to look at you. You blinked at him, bag already discarded by the door and nodded. You probably looked great in the polo shirt and plain jeans that your boss had you and Mikey wear for "professionalism" even though it was a gas station.

You could tell the Metallica shirt he had handed you was old because it was soft and well-worn, a few holes decorating the collar. You pulled it over your head, the material caressing your sides. You pulled on the boxers after, an unused pair he said bought in the wrong size and left to reside in the bottom of his drawer. You timidly pushed out the bathroom door, glancing down the dark hallway to where Eddie's uncle was snoring loudly on the couch before heading back to Eddie's room.

Only the bedside lamp was on now casting sleepy shadows around the room. Eddie was resting against the headboard of his bed, legs laid out, his own sleep shirt adorning his torso, rings discarded on the bedside table. His eyes found your form as you shut the door behind you, trailing up and down your clothes, his clothes, draped over your body. He had never seen anyone look so good in a T-shirt before and frankly he didn't think he ever would again. You were otherworldly to him.

Hesitantly, you crawled onto the bed, mattress dipping under your knees as you got closer. His arms instantly encircled around you, pulling you flush against him giving you no time to hesitate. You melted into him, his scent overwhelming you and his warmth fighting back the chill of the room. He pulled the duvet over the both of you, shuffling you down until you were laying before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

"I was talking to Steve," he said breaking the silence, his voice rumbling into your neck making tingles run up your spine. Your arms wrapped around his torso, cheek pressing against his forehead, eyes fluttering shut as you waited for him to continue.

"He likes to give dating advice. Mostly unsolicited," he murmured, the vibrations tickling your skin. His hand trailed up your side until it found the side of your love handle peaking out from your shirt. His fingers grazed it, swirling around the velvety skin making you squirm slightly at the tickling sensation. You felt his grin.

"It's mostly all crap. All of his experience is from his shitty douchebag days. Probably why he goes on such shit dates." He pressed a kiss to your throat, his other arm tightening around your back to pull you impossibly closer. You felt your mind go gooey again at his affection.

"He did say though that," he paused and you felt him take a steadying breath, "if I waited any longer to ask you to be my girlfriend that you'd think I didn't like you anymore."

It took you a moment to move the thoughts around in your molasses mind before you processed his words.

"Which is ridiculous because even Dustin Henderson has known I've been in love with you for years," he added, fingers dipping under your shirt to draw shapes on the ridges of your ribs.

"What?" you whispered, eyes opening. His movements paused as if he himself just realized what he said. You felt him tense, hand pressing flat against your side as he let out a sigh. You pulled away from him slightly. You could tell the instant the rejection settled in his mind, his body growing tenser as he pulled back to meet your eyes. His eyes were dark, filled with hurt and worry. He tried to pull back more but your tight grip prevented him.

"You love me?" He was quiet for a moment, eyes flickering between both of yours weighing his options. You shuffled closer, grabbing his hand and placing it on your waist again, a silent command to keep drawing shapes. He softened, shifting closer as he shoved his insecurities to the back of his mind.

"If," he started, brown eyes flickering around your face, gaging every micro expression to make sure you weren't uncomfortable with his words, "If it doesn't scare you away, then yes."

He leaned in closer, breath fanning over your face, minty and cool. "If it does, then I have no idea what you're talking about." His hand squeezed your side making you let out a laugh, squirming again as a smile overtook your face. He stopped, eyes hooded as he gazed at you and your pretty smile and your warm eyes.

"Can you say it?" your voice was small, smile loosening until you were staring at him with big, vulnerable eyes. He knew then that you weren't scared. You weren't dismayed by his feelings. By the glint in your doe eyes and the way you melted at his affection, he knew you felt the same way.

"You need to answer my question first," he decided. Your brows pulled together slightly as you tried to remember what he was referring to. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your pouted lips as if he couldn't help himself. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

You felt your face flush and your pulse spike. You nodded, pressing closer hoping he would kiss you again.

"With words, baby," he insisted, hovering his lips over yours, hand moving up to stroke the swell of your cheek.

"Yes," you breathed, feeling like you might never stop blushing.

He finally leaned in and pressed a searing kiss to your lips.

"I love you," he said, hand stroking your hair back so he could kiss you deeply again and again and again, repeating the phrase between kisses like he couldn't get tired of saying it.

"I love you, too," you managed to say before he was covering your lips again, greedy for your attention.

You felt dizzy at the intensity, love drunk on Eddie and his velvet kisses and sugary words. You didn't care that it had only been three weeks and that an English project that you both barely managed to get a C on had been the catalyst. You had loved Eddie for a year and he had loved you for more and you'd be damned if you waited any longer to tell him you loved him over and over and over again.

Link to my masterlist :)

[biggsodorcitystories]

Awww!

@biggsodorcitystories

[the-charlie-ryan-saga]

Ooh how about Zip x Ten Cents for the ask game?

*SLAMS ON THE TABLE*

YES. YES I DO.

---

Why do I ship it?

I enjoy the idea of a rival x a rival, enemies to lovers trope. These two would definitely get along if they were just just given the right amount of time to understand each other, despite being rivals. I also seen this ship everywhere, and now knowing the context, I starting shipping the two.

Sorry if this sounds half assed, I'm not good at explaining things.

.

What are your favourite things about the ship?

Definitely much of the bonding between the two. Like, I dunno how to describe it. I love their dynamic so much. I remember discussing this with someone (coughcough @brownsugar-chan coughcough) that Zip is a people pleaser, and Ten Cents has some traits of Hercules (not personality wise, more so physically). I love that dynamic a ton because you have someone who wants the other to be happy due to personal trauma, and then someone who is like "bro you ain't gotta do all this stuff for me I'm okay."

I think an evidence I can pull out of my ass is from Pirate where Zip is like "you have double crossed us". He stuttered hard bro, like HARD. Gay ass immediately broke down when Ten Cents got angry but also tried to act tough for his gremlin ex (the idea of Zip and Zug being exes sends me).

.

What's an unpopular opinion I have on the ship?

I think that if it was in the actual canon context of Zip and Ten Cents, it would never EVER work out. Despite the obvious, imagine the impact on everyone. It was the 1920s, so mostly everyone had homophobic ideologies. On Zip's side, Zorran would mostly likely rat him out and Zip would suffer consequences. On Ten Cent's side, maybe Captain Star would be disappointed, and the other Stars as well. It's that stuff that makes it a mood killer.

However, headcanons usually aid that. Like maybe Zorran does rat Zip out, so? Zorran's a pansexual going through internalized homophobia and pushes it out on Zip and Zero. Captain Zero is also a dude that went through that internalized homophobia (the homophobia winning) and decided to hate the sin and love the sinner route (all quoted by Brownsugar).

.

[toast-com]

*demon gremlin noises while crawling towards the ask button*

Zip x Ten Cents x Zug maybe?

"Zug!" The lid to his coffin was slowly lifted, and Zug blinked, looking owlishly into the faces of Ten Cents and Zip. He yawned.

"What's going on?" He asked, climbing out of the coffin.

"It's night!" Zip exclaimed, grabbing his hand excitedly. "C'mon Zug!" The vampire yelped as Zip picked him up easily. Ten Cents chuckled, as Zip set Zug on the ground, taking his hand. Zip took the other, and the trio set off.

[jayde-jots]

Top 10 fav ships? TTTE and tugs?

Fuck... forgive me if I do more than 10 because I like a lot of ships. Hercules x Zebedee Ten Cents x Zip Gordon x Rebecca Zak x Nia Millie x Caitlin Victor x Luke Cranky x Carly x Big Micky Salty x Porter ...Okay that's actually less than I thought, those are all the cannon ones at least. The rest are like characters I'd wager have a crush on another, and some I want to give someone to love but can't, or I ship them but in a different relationship sense like platonically. I'm gonna say those too. Spencer x Connor (Spencer I imagine struggles with his love life, so he likes Connor but doesn't know how to go about it because he doesn't want his image ruined.) Flying Scotsman x Rebecca (After she basically made him tongue-tied he found himself very interested in her, but was shocked to see her and Gordon together. He likes Rebecca but he also likes seeing his brother happy, so he's conflicted.) Rosie x James (I see these two a lot more like siblings, hell! in my mythic AU they are siblings.) Alright, the rest are who I want to give ships to but I find that I cant. Edward (It's implied in my giant AU that he and Thomas are rather close but they still see each other as really good friends.) Diesel (I don't know who I can safely ship him with.) Diesel 10 (Same issue.) Herny (I would like to say Gordon but the thing is, Henry could be considered like a half-sibling to Gordon because he was a wack Gresley originally.) James (I want to give this guy someone to make him happy but I feel like options are limiting.) And I'd like to say a lot more characters but I've already rambled enough...

[the-starfleet]

y'all want some zipcents angst (but also slight fluff?)

no?

you're getting it anyways.

i WILL warn you guys beforehand. this has mentions of physical abuse, so if you don't like that sort of stuff, then turn back because... yeah.

Silence.

That was it. Pure silence.

Night had already fallen over the waters and the people of Bigg City Port. And the majority were asleep. The workers, ordinary citizens, the list went on.

But somewhere near the port, stood a house. Inside?

"...Tenny?"

"Mm?"

"Are you… still awake?"

"Kind of…"

"W-well…"

More silence. Then…

"I-I was wondering if… ummm…"

A small chuckle was heard and Ten Cents sat up in bed, giving him a warming smile. He was just wearing a simple white shirt and a black pair of sweatpants.

"Come on Zip, spit it out…"

Zip sighed and finally sat up, his face flushed as he looked over.

"A-alright, fine... I was wondering if you- well, I- could…"

Ten Cents' smile slowly faded, being replaced with a look of concern.

Zip only got this nervous when he was going to talk about something bad.

"C-can I stay in your boat for a while?"

"...W-why?"

"Well…"

Tears began to fall down his cheeks, and he grabbed his partner and hugged him tightly, sobbing into his shoulder.

"I-I don't want to stay with the Zeds anymore!"

He cried.

Then, the Star's eyes fell on something.

He slowly lifted up Zip's shirt to reveal his back. Covered in bad bruises, some cuts on it as well, and even a few burn marks on his arms and the sides of his torso. It hurt to see that.

Ten Cents' anger only flared up, and he gently took Zip by his sides, to which he winced, and looked right at him.

"WHO DID THIS TO YOU."

"Z-Zorran… a-and Zak…"

"I'm gonna kick them in the balls if they ever lay their dirty hands on you again!"

"N-no! I don't want you getting hurt! It's my fault, I'm not good at being a Zedstack!""

He cried, grabbing the Stars' wrists.

"Zip, I gotta do something!"

"I…"

Zip continued to cry into his chest, Ten Cents laying his hands on his back and cradled him.

"None of this is your fault. You know that right?"

The Star's voice was gentle, although the Zed continued to sob.

"Zip… I need to do something. You know it kills me to see you like this…"

"I-I know… I-I'm sorry.."

"Don't be. I'm glad you told me…"

Ten Cents gently placed a kiss on Zip's shoulder, his sobbing slowly fading.

"I… love you, Ten Cents."

"Hey… I love you more, Zip."

And with that, the Switcher cradled the other until he fell back asleep.

And sooner or later, he fell asleep too.

[thisistugsfangal]

Yooo i ship Ten Cents x Zip too. 😌🤝

Heck yeah! 🤝😀

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ― Chapter 9: The Arrival

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ⥽

They fled New York with one purpose. Find, hunt down, and return with a way to kill a vampire god. They abandoned their loved ones and survived the City of Shadows; had their trust broken and darkest secrets brought to light. All that... and Gaius still won anyway. But now that they have nothing to lose, Nadya and her friends are finally ready to do whatever it takes to see the King of Vampires overthrown.

They just have to avoid a vampire population eager to gain favor with their new monarch, the ruthless Order of the Dawn, and whatever plans Gaius has that involve Nadya captured and brought to him alive. So... easy-peasy, right? The worlds of both dark and light hang in the balance. The time has come for the Bloodkeeper to embrace her destiny. So if anyone wants to clue her in on whatever that means, now would be great!

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing reimagining project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere​, @cess02​, @hellyeah90sbaby​, @tayab12​, @saratustra4​, @imnotdonewiththeelementalists​, @thepotatobleh​,

*join the Tag List here!

⥼ Summary ⥽

It's the night of Vlad's masquerade ball, the most prestigious social event a vampire can attend. An entire ballroom full of faces and names every vampire in Europe knows... and apparently Nadya is going to upstage them all.

content warnings: language

[READ IT ON AO3]

A pretty big chunk of their plan relies on the staff of the Tepes Estate being just as snobbish and uppity as the man they serve.

So thankfully at least something is both easily predictable and surprisingly convenient.

Staff all around, and none of them pay the pair of them much mind. Beyond the fact that they get told by more than one footman that “guests really shouldn’t be back in the staff corridors” and receive multiple warnings about how “the Count has ensured all guests for the evening, (said while looking down the biggest snooty nose in all of Prague no less) no matter their prestige, will receive adequate time to sup on the serving staff,” and that they “really shouldn’t be allowing an undisclosed human on the premises but will look the other way this time,” Nadya and Cadence are pretty much left to their own devices.

Which means scurrying out of sight before any lone particularly loyal member of the Tepes household decides to go narc and everything ends up exploding in their faces anyway.

Because there’s no way on earth these full-face masques of theirs are providing any damage cover should their plans go KABOOM!

Nadya casts another look up at Cadence as they come across their umpteenth fork in the road. Watching him decide between right or left is starting to feel as nerve-wracking as actually choosing which direction they ought to go.

“You’re sure you know where we are?” You’re sure you know we’re going the right way?

“I’m starting to feel like you have less than zero faith in me, Nadya.” He probably thinks the glance down her way is a reassuring one. But the masque over his face is almost too neutral. It’s just a mask but it feels like it’s trying too hard, you know?

“That’s not it at all. This place is just…” A lot.

He barely remembers to reach back and take her by the hand before he chooses left in a hurry. Who knows how much time they’ve wasted just trying to find their way through this seemingly endless castle.

“It takes me a moment to recall the map Serafine showed me before we left, but I’m… ninety percent sure I know exactly where we are.”

“And the other ten percent?”

“Is trying to keep an ear out for party noises. So if you’ll zip it, thank you.”

Admittedly Nadya would have a lot more faith in this plan if it wasn’t just the pair of them, proven stumbling disasters that they are, relying on the apparently flawless memory of a man who literally introduces himself as ‘the one with amnesia.’ She understands the rationale behind it, just as she understands the rationale behind everybody else going through the front door like an entourage of normal party-goers. They have three prestigious faces and what Jax and Lily lack in clout they make up for in being practically invisible as nobodies to this upper echelon of attendees.

But shoving the two bigwigs of their gang — well, the most recognizable face in any room of vampires and the obviously human girl losing her freakin’ mind amid a cluster of the heartbeat-less undead — through the staff entrance with nothing more than simple masks to disguise them and trusting them not to mess up finding their way among the rest in time for some famed big reveal they still don’t know the full-on details of…?

Well if they live through this long enough to chronicle this part of their journey, nobody is ever allowed to even so much as imply via metaphor that Nadya never trusted her friends wholly and completely.

Actually if they’re talking about chronicling stuff, better they leave these more vague and improvised parts of their master quest to the footnotes. That way they can pretend they knew what they were doing the whole time.

For example Nadya isn’t gonna let anyone write down that she got so wrapped up in her thoughts about what may or may not get written down that she walked face-first into a brick wall.

OW.

Not a brick wall, actually.

Cadence turns around and catches Nadya’s mask just before it falls and shatters on the ground. Thank you vampire super-speed.

“Are you okay?” He asks, wide-eyed and worried, hesitant to give her back her disguise to take stock of how she really looks.

That’s such a loaded question though, so Nadya ignores it and rubs the redness on her forehead instead.

“Why’d you stop?”

The vampire takes a moment to look up and down either end of the corridor and even around the next corner. When he’s satisfied they’re alone he pries his own mask off with a groan; practically peeling his flattened hair from where its been stuck to his forehead the moment he put the darn thing on.

“Because,” with pursed lips he blows his fringe out of his eyes, “I’ve been talking this entire time… and even when I ramble you usually have some two cents or other to pitch in.”

That’s fair. Nadya takes back her mask with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry, got distracted.”

“That much is obvious. Care to share?”

“Not really. Care to keep going?” Not like they’re exactly full of free time, here.

He sweeps his arm in an after you motion, but keeps pace with Nadya’s shorter stride. “I can hear the string quartet by now. We’re close, but they haven’t begun the announcements Serafine told me to wait for.” So maybe they have a bit of free time. Got it.

Only now she can’t stop thinking about what will be on the other side of the big grand ballroom doors.

And Nadya without her set of note cards to at least help her through her dumb speech all because her dumb dress has no dumb pockets.

“You know I still don’t get why they wouldn’t budge about you not being discovered.”

“You don’t see me complaining,” Cadence says with a shrug; and actually now that he points it out…

“No, I don’t.”

He doesn’t need to look at her to know exactly why she says it that way, either. It’s not the first time they’ve had this talk. Probably won’t be the last either.

His sigh sags from his shoulders to his fingertips. “‘Surprise warmonger back from the dead’ might accidentally eclipse ‘reincarnation of the vampire Goddess.’ Can’t have that, now can we.”

“Cadence.”

“Nadya.”

They turn another corner in complete silence. Nadya’s ears strain to hear this quartet of his but nope, not close enough for her poor human ears quite yet.

Finally Cadence seems to decide on something. Gathering himself up all the way to his full height while fiddling with the porcelain in his grasp. “Actually… Serafine and Kamilah gave me the option. When they talked about prestige all this week it was largely assuming I might be able to pretend just enough to add to their collective fame. But they gave me the choice as to whether or not I wanted to try.”

“And you said no.”

“Of course I said no. I don’t envy you, Nadya. You have to do this regardless of whether or not you want to. But for the first time it feels like I’m not in that position, and I want to take full advantage of it.”

His face falls, voice going somber. “Surely you can see why.”

She can. She did, in the flesh, and while he’d been useful at the time she can still close her eyes and remember how easily Cynbel had threatened Jax, hurt Adrian and Serafine; how callous he’d been with her life even though she’d agreed with him at the time… Not to mention all the implied things that come with Serafine, always calm and cool and collected, losing her freakin’ marbles every time he ended up a part of the conversation.

He continues. “I don’t think I could have pretended to be him if my life depended on it. And if you think about it, your life does depend on it in a way. I couldn’t risk you like that. Not after how kind you’ve been to me.”

Her fingers brush over his arm. Cadence either takes it the wrong way or chooses to give a purpose to something so small; he bends his elbow and lets her arm slide into his like a proper escort to a proper ball.

“A lot of people’s lives depend on me pretending to…” Nadya can’t quite say it though, so she swallows it down. “I just have no idea what I’m supposed to do when we get there.”

“Understandably.”

“Seriously,” offering him a wry and dry smile, “that’s all the advice you’ve got?”

He mulls it over for a good and proper think. The effort is more than appreciated even if it doesn’t actually yield results. At least this way she gets to vent it out before messing up royally when the time comes.

Cadence stops first — their linked arms jerk her back and to turn and face him. “I wouldn’t call it advice, per se,” gee—great, “but maybe we both suck at pretending because we ought to be accepting, instead. Accepting who we… were. Possibly, in your case. That way we still have the chance to move on.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, but Nadya can’t help the way her nose scrunches up slightly.

“I don’t think that applies to this case, Cade.”

“Fair enough. Can’t say I didn’t try.” And that makes the pair of them laugh, no matter how weakly. Something neither of them knew they needed, nor how badly they needed it.

It doesn’t last long… but it doesn’t need to.

“You’ll figure it out when the time comes Nadya. You usually do.”

Usually.

In wordless agreement she and Cadence don their pretend masques with mutual reluctance. At least he doesn’t have to breathe in his. But it’s easier this time to see what his face really says beneath that neutral doll-like expression.

She smiles at him in return. Like many things these days they can’t quite see it, but the feeling is there.

When they get close enough that Nadya’s ears no longer strain to catch the occasional tittering laughter or melodramatic voice, Cadence diverts them yet again. This time for a staircase he just so happens to catch sight of out of the corner of his eye.

He keeps her close; closer than before. Practically hovering over her like a shadow less than a step behind her the whole way up. She pauses when he pauses, she waits when he waits, and trusts him enough to know her faith isn’t misplaced but some explanation would be swell any time he’s feeling his usual chatty self.

Crouched close to the ground (which is a feat for him, for her not so much) Cadence crooks a finger at Nadya to join him in inching steps along the carpet towards the railing overlooking the main foyer below.

Nadya is, understandably, hesitant. “What if someone sees us?” What if someone smells me, hears me, all-of-the-aboves me?

“Same principle as before.”

“Keep close and your blood will cover me up?”

He nods. Not like she really has any other choice. Well, that and the more snatches of conversation she plucks from thin air the more curious she is.

And when has her curiosity ever not won out?

Cadence’s cloak comes heavy around her other shoulder and all but smothers her. She grabs the edge and pulls it tight while making sure not to jostle it from his shoulders. For some reason she can’t shake the feeling like she’s hiding behind a curtain with her feet sticking out underneath.

But they’re here, so they might as well take advantage of it. So Nadya joins him in peering through the stone balusters to the hustle and bustle happening below.

The foyer had been beautiful already during her visit with Serafine and Jax the other night — Nadya would even go so far as to assume it was nearly completed. That assumption would have been vastly incorrect.

It’s not her contacts; she’s not seeing double. Every bauble and ribbon and glittering glassy gem brought along the entire family. There’s practically no surface without something shiny added in some form or another, and in many cases that shiny thing has a shiny thing has a shiny thing of its own on top.

On their own the decorations probably look gaudy and too-much. But when you fill the room with graceful vampires all dolled up in unique fashions and splendors everything else is lost in the background. Tasteful would probably have ended up the equivalent of a fifty-buck Party Town Supply budget. So at least the Count knows his audience.

She should be looking for their friends… and she is. But Nadya tells herself it’s being a good and thorough secret agent to observe all the other guests along the way. Two birds and all that. But it’s not easy to just sweep her eyes over the assembled masses in search of a few key faces. Not when each masque is a face all its own.

You’d think there are only so many combinations of colors, designs, and styles to make before they start getting repetitive. But that couldn’t be farther from the case. She gets it now, seeing everything and everyone from way up high and afar like this. The importance of not just the masque itself, but having the right kind of masque above everything else.

Masquerade balls are about hiding and blending in; being just another face in the crowd.

Les Visages de la Gloire is the exact opposite. And even that feels like the most watered-down way to put it she can think of.

A gentle weight falls on Nadya’s back and she shudders a gasp. When had she stopped breathing? Not for fear of being caught, but at the beauty of it all that could only be described as—literally—breathtaking.

Faceless in their full face-coverings and headdresses each more ostentatious than the last; not important enough to show who they are but still in competition with each other — still with deeds to announce and reputations to uphold. Half-masks covering the left side, the right side, the top of one and the bottom of another and all of them made uniquely for a single soul and nobody else.

Some vampires have masques that match their costumes. Others clash in a way that can’t be anything other than on purpose. Even from a distance Nadya can see the difference between carefully crafted metalwork and porcelain painted with glossy lacquer; can compare wood carvings with rich varnish and contrast that with the vast rainbow of matte colors on terracotta. Most are adorned with embellishments and jewels heavy enough to make her neck hurt just by looking at them.

Nearly all take full advantage of the fact their wearers won’t end up suffocating on the other side.

And I’m supposed to show them all up without so much as a sheer ribbon over my eyes? Yeah, Nadya’s confidence takes a knife to the gut just thinking about it.

“Over there.”

Not like Cadence’s finger isn’t pointing down to a massive crowd or anything, but that’s exactly the point — forgive the pun.

Though they can’t quite see double doors leading inside the castle from the exterior from their hiding spot, the sudden hush that falls over the idle crowd offers up an equally dramatic entrance.

It’s the kind of arrival that would be filmed in slow-motion. The kind that pans up from the purposeful echo of each expensive step; dragging over the exquisite details of their costumes in one long smooth glide all the way to the big reveal. And what a reveal it is.

Kamilah’s spindly masque may be made of steel but it curls over her sharp features with all the grace of a silken thread. It’s a face covering by only the thinnest margin of definition, with too many gaps in the framework to even pretend to conceal her identity. But after taking in the rest of the crowd… it’s obvious she’s the kind of face — the kind of presence — that simply can’t go unrecognized.

Everything about Kamilah, from her posture to her raised chin to her not-at-all-faked aura of superiority, demands recognition.

On the surface she’s the woman that Nadya knows; that she trusts and cares about so so much. But look beneath, something all too easy to do — like sweeping aside a mist, it’s impossible to miss how she’s so much more.

The Bloodqueen has arrived. And the entire foyer is speechless before her.

Without even moving a muscle the closest groups stagger back several more steps. Dozens of them nearly tripping over themselves and each other in their haste.

It’s no surprise that the space is quickly taken up by the two figures flanking Kamilah’s sides.

Serafine’s masque isn’t so much a mask as it is a scrap of lace just wide enough to earn the collective approval. As if anyone here doesn’t already know who she is regardless. But that’s how she can pull the look off if Nadya is remembering her explanation right.

No one would dare partake in Les Visages without knowing—without introduction—the woman who started it all.

Some final vestiges of their psychic connection tugs Nadya towards her; not physically so much as emotionally. Even without seeing Serafine’s features up close there’s a bittersweet ache in her chest that’s definitely not Nadya’s own.

The vampiress can offer up all the scarlet-lipped smiles she wishes. They are all hollow and fake. The simple act of being here causes Serafine nothing but distress.

And then there was Adrian.

Who, in comparison to Kamilah and Serafine, makes the women nearest him seem positively giddy and gleeful to be here tonight.

He wears his tailored costume perfectly; that wasn’t in doubt. It’s the masque that leaves him stony-faced. Gold rich and dark that catches every little flame on the chandelier over his head that covers his eyes but can’t hide the tension wracking his jaw.

He and Kamilah both wear near-identical rich crimson garnets inlaid just beneath their masque’s right eye. Shared stones for a shared Maker. But along his edges are thin metal spires, short but wicked sharp, that vary from the same gold, to steel, to a coppery hue.

A second glance confirms Nadya’s suspicions; Adrian isn’t the only one with those kinds of embellishments along the edges of their masques. Scouring a few of them from the crowd, the way they carry themselves and mirror Adrian’s ramrod-straight posture answers a question she didn’t know she needed to ask.

If the garnet labels him and Kamilah both as Turned by Gaius, then the spikes are the mark of the soldier. Any soldier; but one worth recognition for their service.

Which is everything Adrian doesn’t want. Everything he had worried over, and was working now towards overcoming in the wake of his past.

Nadya ducks her head hastily to catch her tear before it falls. Thankfully she’s quick enough. If only she could wipe away the reason for it just as easily.

Pull yourself together, girl, she scolds, and it’s just enough to do the trick and pull Nadya’s focus back to everything around them. All the stillness and nothingness and the way a room full of the undead hold their collective unnecessary breath waiting for what will happen next.

Which is exactly the kind of attention-grabbing showstopper the three of them are supposed to be. All eyes turned on the prestigious trio they are together, and away from Nadya and Cadence one floor above.

All focus on who they are, why they’ve come, what they will do; and away from the practically invisible dynamic duo that slips through the crowd towards the closed ballroom doors.

Behind her, Cadence lets out an impressed little “hah” when he finally manages to pick Lily and Jax out of the crowd. “I completely missed them. Did you see them sneak in?”

“No,” answers Nadya, but that’s actually a good thing. That was the whole point.

Without a word Kamilah takes one step forward. Her aura of command acts like an invisible shield that parts the rest; holding them at a respectable distance.

But the sudden shifting of the mass of faces and their masques gets dangerous when it turns right in their direction. If even one wandering eye looks up, they’re done for!

Without a word the vampire pulls Nadya backwards, letting the force of his bulk pull them out of eyesight in the nick of time. That was a little close, huh.

Nadya doesn’t get the chance to thank him though.

The moment she opens her mouth a loud echoing clang rings out below them, followed by the distinct shuffle of something heavy being dragged achingly close to the foyer’s marble floors.

Neither of them needs to risk sneaking a look.

Right on time. The ballroom doors have finally opened, allowing the first wave of prestige to spill forth out to the grand dance floor.

And though the shuffling of boots and sharp tapping of heels fills the vacuum of stunned silence as the attendees start to move, it’s not nearly enough noise to drown out the sudden and familiar exuberant laughter of delight that echoes across every polished surface below. The kind of laughter designed to be projected across adoring crowds; and carefully rehearsed to always seem full of intriguing promise.

What Nadya wouldn’t give to borrow a little of Vlad Tepes’ seemingly endless confidence for her own performance… looming ever-closer and starting to pick up real steam.

“Remember my lovelies! Faceless and no-names, see yourselves inside. New blood and the lucky virginal attendees right beside them!”

Her full-body shiver of discomfort is more than warranted. But Nadya only wishes she could be surprised at his… unsettling word choice.

“I’m suddenly very glad to be up here.”

She snorts at the wide-eyed stare looking out from Cadence’s mask. “You and me both.”

“Yes yes darling, oh you look a treat. And you there — you must tell me the story behind that engraving later, you simply must.” It’s really to their luck and benefit that the Count likes hearing himself talk so much. They can stay far away from the railing and still keep tabs on what gauge of prestige is next to be welcomed into the bal masqué proper.

They just have to wait until everyone—Vlad included—is inside. Everyone but the most prestigious of the lot of them. And when all eyes are (once again) on the Bloodqueen herself… they’ll have no choice but to witness Nadya’s arrival.

Having Kamilah by her side might just give her the kick in the metaphorical pants to do this thing. Not the literal though. There’s no way this practically bleach-white linen getup will survive a boot print, and especially not to the rear end.

Down below there’s a momentary lull; all but shattered by Vlad’s returning laughter now pitched higher than before.

“Why there you are, Serafine! Here I worried I had somehow lost track of your arrival in the excitement.”

His words are followed by two unmistakably wet noises; which Nadya prays are just over-dramatic kisses to her cheeks.

“Surely you jest,” she teases good-naturedly; said with all the humor of someone whose smile can’t possibly reach her eyes, “I see before me you follow the old traditions quite well. Showing the prestigious their due, their arrival witnessed by all who look to them in admiration.”

“Well of course! It makes for the grandest of entrances.”

“Ah, yes,” the elder vampiress croons, “and as the illustrious host yours would be the last, non?”

“Don’t worry darling — I would never claim credit for your centuries of contribution to our dwindling community.”

“Meaning?”

Somehow Nadya just knows Vlad throws his hair back unnecessarily as he laughs again.

“You can enter just before me, of course.”

“Then when, may I ask, might you suggest my blood-kin Adrian and I make our entrance known, old friend?”

Unlike Serafine, who at least pretends to smile while enduring the torture of his conversation, Kamilah’s question is cold and clipped. It rings with all the disinterest of the Kamilah that Nadya had met so long ago — and she’d place good money on the single raised eyebrow hiked high enough to be seen over her masque, too.

But if anyone could render Vlad speechless…

Nadya struggles to hear something, anything, until she catches the faint rustle of stiff and expensive fabric moving with haste. Vlad’s gesture of greeting, no doubt.

Just like she has no doubt that Kamilah and Adrian don’t humor him as long as Serafine has. It certainly explains the flustered, hasty way his next words tumble from his tongue with practically no filter.

“All the best surprises are the ones that sweep one off his feet. My humble gathering of our kind—nay, our family—from the nearest branch to the farthest root is made absolutely resplendent by the honor of your presence!

“Your Majesty, mon cherie —” —a beat, his attention likely shifting to Adrian— “— and Sergeant Adrian Raines, just when I had resigned myself to an evening of only the old and antiquated in renown. Here you stand before me, as handsome as the day we first met.”

Nadya quickly schools her bewildered expression — too long and it might get stuck that way. But that is flirtation if she’s ever heard it. Not good flirtation, but nevertheless.

“Vlad, as… lively… as ever.” Adrian just barely recovers, but now she’s dying to know what he had almost said instead. “Hard to believe it’s been nearly seventy-five years since last we met. Time… flies so quickly.”

“Oh pish posh,” replies the Count, “you wouldn’t know it but for the calendars. My memory of those chiseled features of yours obviously needed a refresh.”

He’s barely finished speaking when he gasps, clapping his hands together delightedly. “Speaking of memory! You’ll have to forgive my fright. As you all know surely, my recollection skills are of world-renown. Yet the sight of you all almost thrust me spiraling into self-doubt.

“And not without good reason! As I could have sworn you — the both of you, that is to say — had… cast aside your former titles.”

It’s just like before. Everything that pops into his head said without a filter all the way up until what he’s saying isn’t as vapid as it was at the start.

It must be so easy to write Vlad Tepes off at first glance. Just look at the public opinion of the guy. Nadya had, she’s humble enough to admit it. But the hard truth is that he is Vlad Tepes; he is Count Dracula.

But whether he’s all the things the myths and legends claim or not it can’t go ignored that he knows what he’s doing (even if it doesn’t seem like it). He knows how to play a crowd, how to stroke an ego. He’s a master of misdirection.

Has nobody pitched a Vegas residency to this guy yet? Seriously?

But if he thinks he’s going to out-wit someone like Kamilah he must have those leather pants on just a little too tight.

She doesn’t address his comment. Brushing it aside proves a much more important point.

“Shall Adrian and I wait patiently here while you and Serafine follow through, then?”

Vlad must be used to playing the ‘host with the most’ card, because he hesitates. But Kamilah wasn’t asking — she was just being polite.

“Yes,” he finally agrees, though surprisingly less strained than Nadya would have expected. “I would not dare nor dream of presuming your prestige. Nor would I separate the grand entrance of the progeny of our King.

“The three of you will have a most celebratory announcement, I give you my word.”

Did she hear that right?

Serafine offers a gentle tittering laugh. “I see no reason why you and I should not enter together, ma puce.”

“We shall.”

Vlad’s words die to the sound of heavy heels across the foyer floor. Too many steps to be one of her friends; but certainly more than enough for them to bring a person across the length of the room to where they are gathered.

Of course something is going wrong. They should have anticipated something going wrong. They had, her brain reminds her, and probably thinks its being helpful by doing so.

She dares to inch just close enough to catch a glimpse down below and spoiler alert — it isn’t helpful at all.

With his head held high, Marc Antony makes a bold statement in taking Kamilah’s hand without it being offered. Then he goes a step further with a half-bow and a kiss pressed to the back — or the ghost of one. He barely manages it before she yanks it from his grasp — in surprise, in anger, that’s not the part that matters.

With everyone fixated on the two oldest vampires in the room, Adrian dares to steal a glance of warning up to the railing. Wide-eyed and with pursed lips, the message when he gives the tiniest shake of his head is clear.

Nadya retreats, practically crab-walking backwards.

Cadence tries to help her sudden shaking panic with an arm over her shoulders. It’s the thought that counts.

“What,” he asks worriedly, “who is it?”

“Antony,” Nadya exhales, and the man goes rigid beside her. “It’s Marc Antony.”