hey!! Here’s a writing prompts for you: a human accidentally meets a sly, villainous vampire at a bar or club and the vampire messes with their mind (compulsion, hypnosis, or something else) to get their blood?
Hello! Thank you so much for the ask!
Someone entered the club, and Hannah felt it. The crowd got a bit quieter, as if someone had lowered the volume, and she turned to look—
A hand caught her chin, turning it back towards the bartender as its owner settled beside them.
“What’s a lovely thing like you doing in a place like this?” Their voice was smooth in an uncomfortable way, in scalpel precision and well oiled perfection.
The noise of the club slammed back into place.
She blinked, fingers cold around her glass.
“A night club?” Her voice felt rough, and she wasn’t sure why. The newcomer eyed her, and she was’t sure if it was appreciation or something a shade darker.
Her fingers began to ache around their glass. “As far as pickup lines go, that was spectacularly awful. Maybe start with your name next time.”
“Ezekiel”
Hannah looked over, and found Ezekiel grinning, mouth sharp like barbed wire.
“How biblical,” she murmured, and the bartender refilled their glass. Ezekiel simply watched, hands empty. The bartender didn’t offer to take their order. Ezekiel didn’t try to place one, either.
“You never answered my question.”
Hannah frowned, brow crinkling. “You mean your awful pickup line? I wasn’t aware that type of statement garnered a response. Or any type of favorable reaction, generally.”
Ezekiel simply smiled, and her heart jumped.
She sighed. “Enjoying a night out. Having fun. What does it look like?”
Ezekiel leaned closer, close enough that she could almost feel their breath against her ear, but not quite.
“It doesn’t look like fun,” they murmured. She stared into her glass.
“And this is your problem, how?”
She could feel them smiling.
“Pretty things shouldn’t be sad.”
She scoffed. “If you go away, I’ll give you enough money to buy a better book of pickup lines.”
This time, Ezekiel laughed.
“I don’t need help in that department, trust me,” they leaned against the bar, and took her drink from her. They sipped from it, too pretty and too sexual and too gorgeous, and smiled around the rim of it. “Do you think you aren’t pretty, Hannah?”
She jerked her head to look at them.
“I didn’t tell you my name,” she said, and it was entirely too close to a yelp. Her breath stuck in her throat like a rock, and she grabbed for her bag—
“It’s on your napkin,” Ezekiel soothed.
It wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t.
The air felt too hot, like she was drowning, and the lights looked the same but they were the wrong color.
Her napkin flickered when she looked at it, and her name was there.
Her heart slowed but her gut clenched.
“That wasn’t there,” she said shakily, and Ezekiel watched her with something that was a bit too hungry to be concern.
“Why would I lie?”
Hannah laughed, and it was panicked, and she stood up to leave.
“I think I should go—“ her eyes caught Ezekiel’s, and her temples twinged with pain, and she blinked, and she was sitting down.
“Are you alright, Hannah?”
The chair under her swiveled a bit, and she looked over at Ezekiel.
“Yeah, why?”
The bartender refilled her drink.
“You just seemed a bit panicked, is all.”
There was something close to amusement in Ezekiel’s eyes, so she laughed.
“Why would I be panicked?”
They grinned.
“Question of the year, love.”
She laughed again, and the world fritzed, like a bad signal television laying two images over one another, and snapped back to normal.
Her head hurt. The glass was too loud when she set it down.
“I think I’ve had enough to drink,” she said honestly, and it came out too loud. She put a stack of cash on the bar, and stood up.
“It was lovely to meet you—“ she caught Ezekiel’s eye, and she blinked, and she was sitting down.
They were laughing.
“What happened?” She asked, and her tongue felt numb, as if it were the wrong size for her mouth.
Ezekiel smiled, and for a moment, she was reminded of the big cats at the zoo, with that intelligent gleam of their eyes, the sharpness of their teeth.
She blinked and it was gone.
“Nothing, love.”
For some reason, the nickname made her warm, bubbly like champagne.
She laughed.
Ezekiel leaned forward, and she shivered.
“Why don’t we get out of here? It’s a bit loud.”
The noise was deafening.
She nodded.
“Yeah, let me just call a cab—“ she punched the numbers into her phone, glancing at Ezekiel, and when she looked back, her phone was gone.
Her head hurt, and something was wrong, horribly wrong.
“Where’s my—“
“I have it, love,” Ezekiel said. They tucked it into their pocket. “Come now, let’s go.”
She didn’t want to, and she didn’t know why she didn’t want to, but she opened her mouth to protest and found herself wrapping her arm in Ezekiel’s outside.
She jerked, but they didn’t let go.
“Alright there, love?”
“Let go of me,” she hissed, and they glanced down, amused.
“You’re very resistant to glamour, do you know that?”
Hannah grimaced, tugging at her arm.
“Let me go, or I’ll scream—“ she glanced out, because if they were by the club, then countless people would hear her scream. And somewhere among them would be someone who would help.
They weren’t outside the club. She had no idea where they were.
“What,” she breathed, and Ezekiel hummed.
“Resistant, but not immune,” they commented. They eyed her, examining her face, and tutted. “Still on the brink though.”
They turned to face her, keeping her arm clasped in their own.
“Hannah, love, I need you to do something for me,” her blood felt sluggish, and she wanted to start screaming, but her mouth wouldn’t move, and she was so so cold—
She nodded.
Ezekiel grinned, tilting her chin up, before placing his lips just below ear.
“Hannah darling,” he murmured, and her mind was a mass of colors and shapes and she was on the edge of being lost and she was scared and she didn’t want to let go and she wanted to go home. “Fall.”
She woke up in the ER.
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turns out that forcing yourself to draw everyday and post it all online leads to burnout. just like everything else does. mostly my fault, teehee.
not really sure what i was thinking. maybe if i consistently produced enough shitty art about my interests maybe people would find me in the midst of the chaos that is tumblr and reach out or something. say hi. i genuinely do not know how to talk to people and i believed that i could communicate to everyone through my “art.”
but… it turns out that’s not the case. tumblr is much more complex than that, and this isn’t exactly a friend-making website (though i wish it was).
i wish i had the confidence to just straight up message people or ask them something because there are so many cool people here that i admire (perhaps a little too much). when you’ve been isolated from the world and constantly excluded for so long you kind of lose that courage, and it sucks. humans are social creatures and unfortunately i am apart of that species. i’m an introvert; i enjoy being alone, but jesus christ i didn’t mean ALL the time.
the two “friends” i do have are busy with other things and never reach out unless i do first. plus they have other friends that they prefer over me. i’m always the last option. i miss having real people to talk to instead of pacing around my house, daydreaming about talking to fictional characters or people that don’t know that i exist.
i fucking hate being mentally ill because of how much it holds me back. i can’t even reblog a post on here (which i do a lot) without feeling extreme anxiety. irl, i can’t go out in public without having a meltdown. i do school online now because leaving my house gives me a migraine. i tell my family about this and that i need help. they’re like, “oh you’re fine!!” i’m so tired.
i wish i could figure out why people avoid me, because i would fix any problem that others have with me. i try not to be negative or interrupt others when they’re talking, and i always do my best to be polite. perhaps it’s just because i’m not all there mentally. i understand that, but unfortunately it’s not something i can fix. i was just. born like that + severely traumatized in my early childhood, which made my problems worse. my family keeps telling me that they’ll help me find a therapist but then they forget about it and then never bring it up again until i mention it later on. then the cycle continues. makes me feel like they don’t care.
if you have a group of people (family, friends, etc.) that love and support you, please don’t take them for granted.
sorry for how unorganized this is. i just wrote stuff as it popped into my head.
it felt nice to write actually. it was like i was talking to someone.
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