boobzilla
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When Cesare died, one of the last things he felt—aside from the agonizing pain—was the wet, searing heat of his own blood spilling out from his stomach, and the leeching cold that consumed him from the outside in until darkness overtook him and he was gone. Then, he’d woken up, and all he was left with was the absence, the frigid, relentless chill.
Here, like this, for the first time in nearly one thousand years, that chill is fading.
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A series of late night visits to the Bigtop Burger truck by a certain undead Watcher have some unexpected consequences.Bookmarked by boobzilla
09 Feb 2026
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You felt yourself grow antsier by the second. Gods, what if this was a set up? He hadn’t come back online yet, nor had he read your messages — CG was fake, he was not real and this was someone planning to murder you, and nobody would remember you because you were gay, had bad taste in fashion and glasses, and were forgettable. You’d die at twenty-two, homosexual and alone, in the humid and damp basement of a Grindr hookup.
Bookmarked by boobzilla
10 Jan 2024