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many-gay-magpies · 3 years

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@loabivey @honeyseungz @angelhee @affectionaterainoflove @yixiangs @jungwon-luv-bot-pt3

so uh yeah i wrote a thing ! lulu and artzyy's discussion about vampire jungwon had me feeling things, on top of this brilliant fic i read yesterday, so... here u go hsfhchfvc

wc: .9k, tw for blood, smoke, vague descriptions of a car crash and descriptions of a dried-up corpse. other than that i think that's it, but if you see anything you think i missed let me know!

and with that i present to you: blood bonds.

He can feel the blood on his hands. He doesn't know how he got here.

The scent alone is enough to have his mind reeling again—but he's full, now, satiated, and he no longer feels the need to hunt, to feed as he once did.

Jungwon slowly blinks awake, taking a moment to survey his surroundings. Memories start to trickle back in as he does, far away and faded as if from a dream—how he'd stopped a car in the middle of a street, clambered up onto it's windshield; how good it had felt, to taunt them, to see the fear of it's inhabitant through the rain-fogged glass. How good the blood had smelled; sweet, sickening, the catalyst to his blackout.

He's in a car, Jungwon realizes. Not only that, but the car had swerved off the road some time ago, and now sits with its front properly bashed in by the post of a streetlight; an impact that had left Jungwon unharmed. He sits in the lap of a body, white-skinned, shriveled, limp; a man or a woman, he doesn't know. Two puncture marks sit on the right side of it's neck, though any amount of blood that could have been pouring from them is long gone, now.

No. Not gone. Jungwon licks at his fangs and tastes the last bitter remains; shivers, perturbed. Guilt prickles in his chest, but not nearly as much as he thought there would be.

Maybe it's the haze he has yet to fully shake, but everything feels strangely idealistic, unreal—he feels guilty, yes, but more than that he feels good; really, really good. He doesn't need to look in a mirror to know that his skin is practically glowing, his cheeks plump and eyes bright, the warmth of another's blood flowing like wildfire under his skin. He feels more alive than he's never been, and laughs at the irony of it, the taste of just how false that statement is like copper on his tongue.

He tries to reach through the haze, tries to grasp for any inch of panic he might be feeling, but the only things his fingers close around is this light, bright sensation; ecstasy and relief at the final satiation of his hunger. He's never been drunk before, or high, or any of those other things, but he imagines this is what it might feel like.

Jungwon carefully extracts himself from the body beneath him, stepping out onto the cold pavement. Smoke rises in a column from the car's front, bringing warmth to the once-chilled night, but Jungwon is warm enough on his own that he has no need for it.

A thought comes like a bolt of lightning: I need the hyungs. Because as guiltless as he is now, he'll have plenty to feel guilty about later, when his lapse in control finds them on the run again.

A few seperate thoughts turn around in his mind, old ancestors rolling in their graves in time with his quieting breath. He needs to get rid of the body, take it somewhere safe until he can figure out what to do with it, and he probably needs his hyungs' and Riki's help to do it. The consequences of someone finding it here—sucked dry and bloodless, with a human-sized bite mark in the side of it's neck—are more than any of them can afford.

A part of him knows, too, in the back of his mind, that the euphoria won't last forever—sooner or later the rush he has will drain away, and when it does, he'll need to find someone to cry on; someone who won't be crushed by the weight of his guilt.

If, a voice in his head whispers, if you even feel it. He shoves the voice away.

Jungwon looks at the corpse in the driver's seat with the same disconnected grief as someone looking into the casket of a relative they knew only distantly. It was a man, Jungwon recalls vaguely. Wearing a pressed business suit, the blazer of which now sits discarded on the passenger seat floor, the collar of a crisp white button-up stained with blood. He wonders what kind of life he'd had; if he had a partner, children he was leaving behind. Children Jungwon made him leave behind. He hadn't meant to, hadn't wanted to, but-- but.

His grief is slow, sludgy, like a pool of black tar, and the tears don't come even as he wonders if they should.

---

Heeseung knows what's happened as soon as he sees him. If it isn't the glow of his skin, the fullness of his cheeks, it's the dazed look in his eyes; the telltale dregs of euphoria that have yet to make their leave.

Although on second thought, maybe it was the blood that did it, trickling down his chin and staining his teeth and lips rust-red.

"I didn't mean to do it," he says quietly. In the background, Jay and Jake drag the body out of the car, and Sunoo and Sunghoon watch with Riki to make sure no one sees.

"I know," Heeseung says, voice soft. "I know you didn't." Then he opens his arms, and Jungwon falls in as readily as if he was born there.

#this is like. part dark/horror part jungwon feeling conflicted part poly enha tenderness #i honestly dont know what to do with this but *shoves it into your arms* HERE TAKE IT #magpie writes #magpie's writing adventures #enhaverse #enhaverse writing #enhypen fanfiction #enha theories #creative writing #enhaverse fanfiction #gay yearning #writing #kpop fanfic

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many-gay-magpies · 3 years

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@loabivey @honeyseungz @angelhee @ofaffectionate @yixiangs @cherry-riki

so uh. heyyy <3

pt 2 (technically pt 1 because it happens before) of blood bonds is here!! tagging everyone that i tagged for blood bonds (except for kyu </3) bcs why not

i'm not 100% on this, but that's mostly because i've been staring at it for a week, and y'all haven't, so i hope that you'll enjoy it thoroughly more than i do

wc: 1.7k, tw for blood, blood-sucking, death and mentions of death, and vague descriptions of a car crash. same as the last one pretty much, let me know if there's anything i missed!

that being said, have some bloodlust.

It's a scent that stops him in the middle of the street, blaring alarms through every inch of his body—thick and sweet, intoxicating, like the richest chocolates and tenderest meats. For a second, it brings him back to his days in the castle; feasts coating tables upon tables in every decadence he could imagine. He hasn't felt that kind of indulgence in a long time.

Jungwon is immediately aware of his instincts overcoming him; he knows what the smell is, he's smelled it coming off the other boys enough times to be familiar with it. But not this strong. Never this strong.

His head swims. Stars cloud his vision, and yet everything is ten times brighter, more crisp; his senses sharpened, sensitivity heightened. Jungwon battles with himself for a moment, there, on the side of the road, watching the car with the contents of it's driver's seat smelling so delectably like food as it drives by; no, no, don't give in, don't succumb, you've made it so far already, just hold on a little bit longer—but the gut-wrenching hunger inside him is like none he's ever faced before.

It tears at him, the unbearable hunger, the emptiness; twists his insides into knots and makes him double over against the brick wall beside him. He doesn't want to give in, doesn't want to take, doesn't want to hurt—but he's so, so hungry, and it smells so, so good and he just can't take it anymore. It's a kind of longing that burns him from the inside out, and maybe... maybe it wouldn't hurt, to... to give in, just this once.

He's hungry. He needs food. Really, when he thinks about it for long enough, rationalizes it in his mind, that's all there is to it. Lions don't feel bad when they hunt gazelle, do they?

(Something is different here, though. Lions, unlike vampires, will stop. Lack of food will make their body grow cold, their energy sapped until there is nothing left; they grow tired, bodies moving slower and slower, until they breath their last breath. Vampires do not. Vampires will not stop. The hunger depletes them, eats at them, and then when it can eat no more it consumes them completely—writhing black hole taken ghastly, human shape. Death evades them, and so they become death in it's place—emptiness so great it would eat the whole world if it could.)

So, with his resolve melting as his hunger rages, Jungwon presses onward—taking advantage of the scenery's sudden clarity to slink towards the moving car at a truly frightening pace. Plus, it could be... fun, he finds himself thinking; fun, to play around a bit, see how much fear he can truly instill. In the past, Jay and Sunghoon's jokes to Sunoo to "not play with his food" when me mentioned spooking his victims the tiniest bit before feeding had left Jungwon feeling sick to his stomach—but now, the idea doesn't seem so bad.

A voice in Jungwon's head (the more logical Jungwon; the one that isn't starving, the one that's still on the edge of rational) tells him, you're being stupid, as he throws caution to the wind and teleports directly in front of the car. Someone could see you, do you even have any idea what you're doing? But the voice of hunger rises above all others, and Jungwon, smirking at the screech of tires on asphalt as the car skids to a stop in front of him, tells the voice, it's dark out, and we're in an abandoned part of the city; who, really, do you think could see us?

The voice protests, but the drone of Jungwon's hunger drowns it out. He feels cool metal on the palms of his hands, hears the metallic clang of his boots against the car's hood. The trembling of the man inside tinges his nerves with delight.

He raises his finger to his lips in a single gesture, shhh, and wonders if his eyes gleam red.

Thoughts run one by one through his mind, though they are fleeting, like mice; skittering into the darkness as soon as he catches sight of them. He should have listened to the hyungs, he should have been more careful, he shouldn't have waited this long—he knows the consequences of vampires going too long without blood from Sunghoon's stories, how could he have been so stupid?

But it all fades, irrelevant, in face of what sits before him now—food. A meal. Satiation, finally, an end to his hunger. He can feel his conscience slipping away more and more as the moments pass, the little Jungwon in his head letting go of it's logic.

It is with this quieting of the rational voice and sudden booming of the instinctual one that Jungwon teleports himself to the back seat of the man's car. It doesn't take long for him to be noticed—even the lack of his reflection in the rear view mirror cannot disguise the creak of expensive leather and the sigh he lets out.

"Jesus Christ--" the man nearly shouts, car jolting forward as he slams on the breaks. Jungwon doesn't flinch. He turns to look over his shoulder and meets an unblinking vermillion stare. "W-what the hell are you, kid?"

"Go on, guess," he says, brow raised. "I have all night."

Though even as he speaks, Jungwon knows the statement is a lie—he's the closest to the man, the closest to a human he's ever been since turning, no plexiglass or metal barrier between them—the smell of the man's racing heart and pumping blood chokes his senses like smoke, so thick he can barely breath. Jungwon doesn't know how long he'll be able to hold out—but he can feel how the seconds tick by, as if there's a pocket watch embedded in his skull. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Agonizing. Even so, Jungwon delights in the fear, the rabbit-quick pace of the man's heart. Equally as amused as he is overwhelmed, he decides that quickening it a little more won't hurt, and smirks, doing well to lick over his fangs in perfect line with the man's eyesight.

"Shit--" Eyes widen comically, and breath grows shaky with the reckless fumbling at car door handles in an effort to escape, pure, cold fear jolting through bones and bringing goosebumps to unsettled skin. It's useless, though; because all the doors lock, jammed shut, and the most he can do is huddle as close to the door as he can, as far away as possible from the boy with glowing eyes suddenly perched in his passenger seat.

"Surprised?" Jungwon asks with a grin.

The man gulps. "Th-this isn't happening," he mumbles, eyes focussed somewhere off in space, past Jungwon. "This can't be happening to me. This... this is impossible."

"Oh, it's very possible," hums Jungwon. "You'd be surprised to find out how much is." And he smirks wide again. He probably looks like a madman, but he doesn't care. He can taste the man's blood on the air.

"Please, don't kill me," he whispers. "W-whatever it is you want, I'll do it, just-- I don't wanna die. Please."

Any other day, the pleading would have gotten to him—any other day, Jungwon would have cried and screamed and torn at his own skin at the prospect of ever killing anyone, let alone drinking from them. But now, the logical him (the human him, he thinks for a moment) has been tucked into the deepest recesses of his mind, and the sound is like music to his ears.

"H-have mercy," the man stutters quietly.

Jungwon tilts his head. Mercy? a voice in his head whispers. It is a voice he hardly sees himself in, and yet it consumes him completely. There is no mercy. You are only prey.

It's funny how suddenly it hits him—how long he's waited for this, and how he can't stand to wait a second more. Faster than lightning Jungwon blinks on top of the man, pinning him down; the protests (physical as well as verbal) make no difference to him. He searches for a carotid artery with shaking fingers and, once he finds it, sinks his teeth in with a groan.

The car swerves in a panic, and the sound of it crashing into a streetlight is a distant ringing in Jungwon's mind. Everything is muffled, as if he's been thrust underwater, and he might as well have, with the way the smell and taste of blood blooms around him, inside him. He feels himself wanting more, needing more, craving more, the hunger never-ending as he sinks his teeth even further into his victim's neck.

Nothing else matters in that moment, and he knows, now, he knows what the others were talking about—how good it feels to feed when you've starved for so long.

His victim loses consciousness soon after that, but still Jungwon drinks. He can't find it in him to stop—it tastes so, so good and he's still so, so hungry, and it seems his hunger only grows the more he feeds; every bit of blood he drains, the sickness and lethargy drains away with it, leaving a hunger larger than he had known behind. Eyes closed, the world spins around him, and Jungwon can feel himself slowly revitalizing as he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, and drinks.

Jungwon loses track of time the longer he sits there.

The hunger is less ravaging, now, only a low growl in the back of his throat; and soon it peters out entirely. The body under him has grown cold—it's warmth taking new ownership. He feels the stolen blood and pulse humming under his skin.

There is plenty to worry about, he knows—plenty things he should, realistically, care more about than he does. But for the life of him he can't pick out what they are, buried beneath layers of cotton he doesn't care to reach through.

His mind is heavy with fullness, and heavy with sleep, and for the second time that day a little voice in the corner of it urges him to just give in—so he does.

#magpie writes #magpie's writing adventures #enhypen fanfiction #enhaverse fanfiction #enhaverse writing #enhaverse #enha theories #gay yearning #bloodlust

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many-gay-magpies · 3 years

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so now that i've got lily out, i saw it fit to post this little sort of follow-up piece that i did for it, as an additional insight into sunoo and the queen's relationship following the events of lily (although you don't need to have read lily to read this). i imagine this takes place sometime around fever, with sunoo being the one that gets all the boys trapped in the castle and down with the fever in the first place (which is a thought i've had rolling around in my head for a while).

tw for toxic/abusive relationships, gaslighting, arguing, crying, mild violence... yeah you get the idea

@honeyseungz @loabivey @angelhee

---

"Did you do it?"

Sunoo stood stiffly, hands at his sides as he stood before the queen.

"I did," he said—his voice a shell of itself. Guilt twisted like a venomous snake in his gut.

The queen hummed her approval.

"Hmm, good. You've done well for me."

Every word she spoke made bile rise in his throat—her unwavering approval, her tender-handed affection, the poison-laced honey that dripped from her tongue with every smile. Cherry-red lips he could not look at, and so he stared at the hem of her gown instead.

"What's the matter, my sweet?" She had sensed that something was off—something amiss in the heart of her ever-willing servant. She moved forward in grand, sweeping gestures, placing the pads of her fingers under Sunoo's chin and lifting it in a move that made his breath hitch. Eyes the color of red wine stared back at him. "Everything is going to plan, and yet... you don't seem happy."

Sunoo couldn't tell if she was genuinely surprised, or just taunting him.

"I'm not," he said instead. How could he be? His friends' demises sown behind him, the needle in his ready hands. He had never been a steady tailor, and his fingers were riddled with pinpricks.

The queen's face twisted—lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes filled with sickening sweet concern. "Why ever not? My little sun, don't you know you're getting everything you've every wanted?"

"I know," he said softly. I don't know what I want anymore, he thought.

Safety, warmth, stability—that was what he'd wanted. A steady hand, loyalty and love he would never have to question; protection from all the evils in the world. Wether he stated his wants aloud or not, she had known them, and provided. But the comfort he felt with her in his youth was long gone, now—her love was tainted, and he got no warmth from it. Her protection felt more like a cage from which he could not escape.

The queen gave a soft gasp. "It's them, isn't it?"

Sunoo brought his eyes back to her face again. "What?"

"The other boys," she said. "You're still attached to them. You feel bad for hurting them."

Sunoo couldn't help the incredulity that slipped into his voice as he said, "You thought I wouldn't?"

She shook her head and sighed. "I thought you had grown out of this." I thought you had figured out that I am the only one who would ever truly care for you.

Tears stung his eyes and the back of his throat, but he bit them back, unwilling to be so vulnerable in front of her—not here, not now. Not ever again.

She sighed, raising her hand to cup his cheek instead—he hated it. Hated how the slightest touch made his skin crawl, hated how he was frozen in place under her gaze, shackles holding his ankles to the ground. Hated it, hated it, hated it, hated her, hated himself for ever having loved her.

"I know it's... hard," she said, voice so soft though he knew it was only poison; the sugar-sweet lure at the bottom of a pitcher plant. "Letting go. Especially since you've help on for so long. But you must understand, Sunoo... their love is conditional. The second they hear of the things you've done, they'll cast you away without a second thought."

The words that went unsaid rang impossible loud in his ears. But I will not. I am the only one that won't. It was true, and he knew and hated it, the way she had him wrapped around her finger—the corner that he had backed himself into.

He jerked away from her touch as if he had been burned, eyes boring into her like hot coals. "And yours isn't?" He spat. "You say their love is conditional, and yet you ask so much of me, make me your slave with that exact same promise—love. And all so you can get to him."

His words were hot ash, pouring down on her skin, and yet she only shook her head and laughed sardonically. "You hate me for telling the truth," she said.

"I hate you," he seethed, "for keeping me here." And I hate myself, for being unable to break free.

The queen tutted softly, taking one of his hands in hers. "Whatever happened to the sweet little boy from the woods, hm?" The boy that didn't question, didn't doubt, the boy that would blissfully obey her every whim.

He left the moment you decided to make me into a puppet, Sunoo wanted to say, but didn't.

Unable to control himself any longer, Sunoo lunged forward, hands gripping her shoulders and propelling them both forward until she hit the wall on the other side of the castle. The stone cracked behind her—great fissures spiderwebbing out from the place of impact, reaching all the way to the great marble ceilings. But all she did was laugh; laugh, an impossibly bitter sound.

"You're only helping prove my point, you know," she said as he growled. "What would the others think, if they saw this side of you?"

And again his breath caught, knowing her words to be true—a sob rocketed past his lips before he could curb it. She raised both hands to cup either side of his face, wiping the tears away.

"They wouldn't understand," she said softly. "Wouldn't love you. Not like I do."

Sunoo nodded rapidly, the tears only coming faster by the second. He hated being here, under her gaze, wrapped in her touch—and yet it was the only place he truly felt safe. "I'm sorry," he choked, fisting hands in the sleeves of her gown. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, so sorry-"

"It's alright," she said gently. Softly she brought him into her arms; put a hand on the back of his head, lead it to rest in the crook of her neck. "It's alright; you can cry, now."

#magpie writes #enhaverse #enhaverse writing #enhaverse sunoo #enhaverse fanfiction #enhaverse fics #aka the writing piece that made me question my own mental health when me and artzyy were talking about projection the other day #toxicity tx #toxic relationship tw #abuse tw

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many-gay-magpies · 3 years

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hehehehehehehe

HEHEHEHEHEHEHE

@honeyseungz @loabivey @angelhee @ofaffectionate :3

summary:

He didn't know she was a monster.

He had no way to.

She had lured him in with words sweet as honey, and he was but a fly to the trap. She had promised safety, protection, love—and he, a fool, had taken it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33097528

#magpie writes #enhaverse #enhaverse writing #magpie writes for enhaverse #enhaverse fanfiction #enhaverse fics #enhypen fanfiction #yes my ao3 name is pantry jesus sue me #i came up with it like two years ago

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many-gay-magpies · 3 years

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short (or not so short) little kpop fandom rant below; putting a readmore because i feel kind of weird saying all this stuff on a blog that is pretty much kpop dedicated, who's follower-base is made up of mostly kpop fans, but i also just feel the need to get it out there, so. here we are

(disclaimer: im not using 'you' to direct this post at anybody in particular, if anything it's directed at myself, you just feels more direct)

kind of going off of that post about parasocial relationships i just reblogged but like. ever since watching that one video by a dude im subscribed to on youtube about stan culture and fanfiction and stuff (i think i might have linked it on tumblr at some point? maybe?) my experience in the kpop fandom had gotten... interesting, from a personal standpoint

like im starting to wonder about all this stuff and think about the fact that ALL fanfiction, even the nonsexual stuff, is still crossing a bunch of boundaries in a way? because like youre writing all this stuff about REAL PEOPLE and literally making headcanos for how they would be as boyfriends, how they'd react to certain situations, how they would be in fights for god's sake, and its just-- these are real people. you dont know them. you will probably NEVER know them on a level higher than maybe meeting them through a fanmeet, or if you're lucky running into them on the street or something. and you can't... know how these people you've never met will REACT in situations like the ones you're thinking about, you can't know what they're like off-camera and outside of idol life. and i kind of had a point with this particular section of the rant, but i forgot what it was, so i'm just gonna move on

the thing with me is that like... i think all of this stuff, and yet i still read the occasional y/n fanfic or (god forbid) full group fanfic, often with ships involved. and i justify it to myself by saying i know these aren't the REAL people, they're just characters someone else created in their image; all of this stuff is written based on the images, the characters presented to us, and not the real people underneath (but the problem is a lot of fanfic writers probably dont feel the same way; they think like it's the real people they're writing about and treat it as such). I tell myself I read and enjoy ship fics because I would enjoy the samd dynamic with ANY two people, because the relationship is something i'd admire and long for in real life, it doesn't matter who with. I don't ACTUALLY think these two idols are dating or think they would act like this—its just characters. But it's still just like... where does the boundary lie? I'm thinking all of this stuff, but if i dont act on it, do the thoughts even really matter? Because its what a person's actions say about them that matters, just thinking about something... right?

So as you can see, I'm conflicted.

Now, something else worth noting is that I... don't necessarily think fantasizing about idols, in whatever way that might be, is bad. They're attractive, the images and characters they present often compliment that by being nice, sweet, funny, etc. It feels normal, to me, that you might fantasize about dating them or hugging them or kissing or being friends with them every so often—especially during the pandemic, when people rarely got the chance to actually see other people and (im speaking for myself here but i think its something that can apply to others as well) sometimes ended up filling the void with parasocial relationships instead. the fantasizing isn't the bad part—to me that just feels like a part of being human. its that we're taking these fantasies and putting them out into the world in the form of writing, reactions and fanfictions and the like—we're writing down our fantasies and letting other people read them and fantasize about them in turn.

and to me that feels... weird. personal. kpop idols don't need to know the fantasies you have about them, and no matter how impossible you think it might be, if you post something online, anywhere, there is a chance that they'll see it. and above that even, our fantasies, in our own heads, feel like something that doesn't need to be—or even shouldn't be—shared out loud (artzyy if you're reading this, you can probably figure out why i got so awkward and felt like i'd overshared during our conversation yesterday). i mean, if you're comfortable sharing your mental fantasies with the world, by all means, you do you; im just... not.

a lot of this is why i... actually don't feel uncomfortable writing enhaverse fanfiction (exhibited clearly by the two vampire jungwon fics that are now floating around my blog, the sunoo lily fic in progress in scrivener, and the various other ideas for fics still floating in my brain). because it isnt "real people" we're writing about, or idols' on-camera faces that we ACT like are real people, it's characters these boys and their company have created specifically for their music videos and lore; entirely different, fictional people, just with the same names and faces, which we've basically taken and spun into whatever the fuck the tumblr enhaverse is now (delightfully full of angst, gay longing, softness and a whole lot of fucking projection... you get the idea.)

but its just-- weird, having all these feelings, making all these justifications and having all these morals in place, and yet being part of a fandom that for the most part goes against every one of them. but i haven't left, or really changed my behavior at all, so its... yeah. weird.

#magpie thoughts #debating wether or not i tag this with kpop fandom or kpop meta tags because i kind of dont want anyone to actually see this??#except for my moots and the people following me that is #but thats like. it #magpie meta #there we go now i have a TAG for this stuff

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