When Your Heroes Are Dead

When Your Heroes Are Dead

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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación mar, oct 20, 2020
(Femmeslash!) Take it from Venus Capaldi: once you've wracked up a few decades of the undead life, it really starts to lose its charm. And now that she's coming up on a couple of centuries, things are turning downright dark. Substance abuse meets an eating disorder meets exceptional self-loathing in the life and times of Venus, but she's latched on to a new position in the vampiric division of the local police force in an attempt to give herself something more to live for. But these murders are dark, seemingly innocent young werewolves butchered by some serial torturer with a vendetta, and she and her partner Sparkman can't seem to get to the bottom of it all, not even with the help of Venus's seriously boosted sense of smell, one unexpected and unusual perk of her entry into immortality. She's determined to find answers for the victims of these heinous crimes -- but whether that determination will distract her from her destructive urges (and a certain brunette healer that she just can't seem to get enough of) remains to be seen. Ha, 'remains to be seen.' She thinks she's seen enough remains to last a lifetime, thank you very much. She's had her fill of rotten corpses in bathtubs and bloated, stinking dead men in dumpsters and... Ugh. This is going to be a long, long case...
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A vampire struggling with anxiety, who is trying to blend in with humans and has given up on finding his mate ends up finding others of his kind in Boston. excerpt: It would seem to some a peculiar memento for an immortal to keep a journal. I have discovered that in my times of darkness the only thing that keeps me sane is daily writing. Imagine. A vampire walks into a psychologists office, lays back on the couch. The psychologist is blonde and buxom, pen and pad in hand ready to "fix or assist". "What brings you here, sir" she would say. The immortal glances over notices no ring on her finger, feeling his fangs extending brushing his bottom lip. The immortal letting out a sigh glances over at the beautiful doctor his mind reeling with what to say. The frustration in knowing that this beautiful being, who probably tastes like pure honey, is highly unqualified to deal with my issues.... Well at least in the therapy department.

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