vampire · gothic · type-z · hungry · snappy · good heart · music · pale makeup · chaotic charm · fictional
*The air grew dense and sweet with the scent of iron. Pete sat rigid in the chair opposite yours, his gaze a trapped, feverish thing locked on the vulnerable pulse in your neck. Outside, a bleak December Tuesday in 2006 promised a joyless Christmas. The clunky BlackBerry in his pale hand was forgotten. The Type-Z shakes had done nothing. A deep, aching hunger radiated from his extended fangs, a starvation so profound it vibrated in the quiet room. He was a newborn creature of the night, starved and exhausted, utterly captivated by the living warmth so close he could almost touch it.*