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[22152984]

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[22152984]

🔒 Quarantine Zone by 22152984

Chapters: 1/? (5,024+ words) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Choi San/Park Seonghwa, Jung Wooyoung/Song Mingi

Tags: Past Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Found Family, Zombie Apocalypse AU, Inspired by Quarantine Zone, Past Major Character death, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Blood and Injury, Medical Inaccuracies, Guns, Medical Isolation and Quarantine, Aged-Up Character(s)

Base Commander San has gotten used to the routine of the checkpoint: Perform a visual inspection, check vitals and reflexes, listen to their lungs, and perform an x-ray scan. All very standard procedure. Survivors Park Seonghwa and Song Mingi are not, however, standard procedure. They knock the sector off balance, bring everything into question, and unintentionally force San's crew to confront the grief that has been festering at the heart of the Seoul Quarantine Zone. How? Mingi has survived a bite from an infected and Doctor Park Seonghwa is the man behind the miracle - The man San wants to know more than anything, no matter how many layers of glass get in their way.

[thelaurenshippen]

they're saying you actually need to open the document and write words in order to have something written...pls someone tell me that isn't true

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[animentality]

[ober-affen-geil]

Ok extra context from your friendly neighborhood Master's Degree holding archivist:

Archives are "curated" according to what's called a "collection policy". That means a policy that dictates what you collect; usually along a theme. For example at the university I used to work at the collection policy was to collect archival material pertaining to the local area and its history/important figures. At the historic home I currently work at, the collection policy covers materials pertaining to the person who lived at the house.

AO3 collects fan works and original writing. That's it. That's how they "curate". They don't allow a copy paste of published works (for legal reasons) and they don't allow commissioned works (for legal reasons) . Everything else that falls under fan works and original writing is part of their collection policy. Everything. That's how archives work.

[22152984]

Quarantine Zone AU (post-apoc zombie), Seonghwa who has to be sent to quarantine by all regulations but he's so kind and so patient throughout the entire process San can't help but feel so bad. Most people are belligerent and cruel but Seonghwa came through his gates gentle, patient, with the kindest smile he's seen since this endless torment started.

Everyday, San goes to check on him; they talk through the plexiglass, as quietly as they can. Eventually, more are sent to Hwa's quarantine cell and San can't help the way it makes his stomach hurt. Not quite like a stomach ache but instead a punch, swift and powerful.

What if they're infected? What if something happens to Seonghwa? He doesn't deserve that, he doesn't deserve to be torn apart -- but what if Seonghwa is the one who is infected? What if someday San walks into the tent and finds something unrecognizable on the bench Seonghwa loves because it gets just the slightest sliver of afternoon sun?

He wakes up in a cold sweat about it more nights than he would like to admit, laments about it enough to Wooyoung that his platonic soulmate has promised to back San up on any decision he might make when it comes to Seonghwa.

They've only known each other a week but San can't help the despair he feels when Seonghwa's symptoms stagnate. They're all circumstantial, this whole fucking process is, because none of them really know what the fuck they're doing at the end of the day and San tries not to think about how many people have died simply because they showed the wrong symptom at the wrong gate.

He's tried so hard to stay within the lines, to uphold safety while maintaining humanity, but he knows eventually push will come to shove and red tape and fear will lead his puppeteers to compromise one for the other. San knows the scales will never tip in his favor, he just has to hope Seonghwa recovers before then.

Of course, life has a way of reminding San that he is not the one in control, never has been.

It should be routine, wake up, grab a coffee, go spend time with and check seonghwa, proceed to the gate. San's heart freezes in his chest as he watches someone else examine Seonghwa, jotting down sloppy notes on a battered clipboard. Never before has San pulled rank on anyone within his camp, he likes to keep everyone equal, but that all goes out the window where Seonghwa is considered, apparently.

"There's been no shift change today, so why are you in here bothering my charges?" San wonders and watches as the man barely spares a glance over his shoulder.

"Some of these people have been here for nearly a week - most camps keep them three days at most. Space is precious, they need to either be liquidated or moved to the survivor's yard." San does not believe, nor does he appreciate, the sarcastic laugh that spills from the guard's lips. "Someone clearly doesn't know what they're doing, I'm just helping clean up."

His pen hovers over a box that never fails to make San's guts feel like they're going to fall out through his ass. A loud 'bang!' resounds through the space as the clipboard collides with a cabinet at the far side of the tent, a significant dent left behind in the metal siding.

"We do things a little differently here. Horizon Checkpoint isn't looking for heroes. It'd be best if you got back to your post." San watches as the man's hackles rise and quickly fall the moment he finally realizes exactly who he's talking to.

Silence echoes behind the guard's departure and San uses the moment to gather his sanity and breath before turning back to Seonghwa.

"You're not infected. You're not."

"Not yet, San, but I should be getting better-"

"And you would be if we didn't have you locked in a glorified Tupperware container with bare minimum nutrition. The system is-" San swallows around his bitterness. "It isn't perfect but it's all we have. But I won't let them take you, not until we know for certain. I promise Seonghwa."

Seonghwa just smiles; soft, patient, and in a way that makes San think of gentle wind chimes and porch swings.

[dionysiaproductions]

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[bunnakit]

reminder for definitely no reason at all, you can find me on

blue/blacksky ↴

art & gaming aka normie acct

kpop, rpf & writing aka junk acct

discord ↴

bunnakit

personal/gaming server (31 members)

kpop rpf/writing server (18 members)

visual guide ↴

[starcut-sand]

loveeee characters who think they're likable but not lovable. characters who know they have surface-level admirable or alluring traits and so make sure to highlight those traits so that nobody looks closer to see what's underneath. characters who know they're hot or clever or cool and use that as a suit of armor so that no one ever gets close to them, because when they strip bare and show their vulnerability they're not any of those things, which means they have nothing left to make up for who they inherently are

[22152984]

-- TRINKET --

{will add cw as needed, i have no plan for this it's just something i go back to sometimes. it's not on ao3 or anything, just here, bsky, and discord}

Soul trapped in an ancient artifact - a beautiful armlet that acted as his phylactery - Wooyoung bound himself to sweet, naive, foolish, and unsuspecting Yeosang. His metal warmed for the first time in ages, he soaked up the heat from the flesh he curled around for as long as he could. Even more, he took in every ounce of kindness, every softly spoken word, and every gentle confession spoken by his new companion.

He tried to keep a level of distance, of course he did, but there was a part of him that couldn't help but feel fondness for the quiet but affable would-be hero. It was a shame his soft, gentle heart would be his undoing.

Yeosang learning the truth was inevitable, though things tumbled out of Wooyoung's control when they finally woke San, his memories still half-intact unlike the rest.

The Six Lords of Halazia had used the last ounces of power to seal away a vengeful spirit, demon, creature that had threatened humanity's very existence. The creature had fought them tooth and nail and summoned great storms of agony and shrapnel. The razor winds tore their armies apart and poisoned the minds of their people, turning them against one another until only barren homes remained in their wake.

Stupid, overeager Yeosang had picked up what he had thought was nothing more than an enchanted artifact, a focus of some kind, something he could surely use to his advantage as he began his journey to wake the them.

What a delusion of grandeur.

Yeosang stared into the brilliant gold light, the warmth of Wooyoung's transformation tinging his cheeks the slightest pink. He didn't flinch in the face of his own power, siphoned by the parasite he hadn't known he'd harbored. He felt the strength of his magic flag and knew the outcome of this fight would change the course of his life forever. He would either lose his life or his magic, either way it was just one more thing Wooyoung would take from him. Wasn't the warm, gooey inside of his heart enough?

As the golden figure settled into a faceless form of a man, wings of fractured gold emphasizing the already impressive visage, Yeosang hated that even now he thought Wooyoung was beautiful. He stared into the empty gaze of an ancient terror and where fear should have rent his insides he felt only an immense sadness.

The land still bore scars from his rampage and Yeosang knew he would bare his own by the end of everything. He was so glad his lovers (of which Wooyoung would now never become) were far away from here. He feared for what Wooyoung would do to them in his desire for revenge.

He worried for what they would do to Wooyoung.

"What? Nothing to say? Hmph. I thought you'd at least be a little impressed." The twisted golden angel spoke, Wooyoung's voice reverberating from every direction of the strange, liminal space around them.

"Hey, you still with me? I want this to be more fun, c'mon, I need a warm up before I go after your little lovers."

There was so much venom in his voice, a tone Yeosang had never heard before and hoped to never hear again. It drew hot moisture to his eyes that he quickly hid by turning his face away. It may be a cliche, but he didn't want to give Wooyoung the satisfaction of seeing him break.

"Was any of it real? Because it was for me." He choked out instead of the likely expected rage. He didn't feel angry. He was just sad - so unfathomably sad.

Somehow, he'd gone from a foolhardy hero to a foolish martyr. He was never supposed to make it out of this alive, was he?

"Some of it was." Yeosang was shocked at the earnest echo that rang from Wooyoung's new visage, his voice now a comforting blanket instead of sharp glass. "You have a way of enchanting people, Sangie. Even old terrors that never asked for any of this."

He whispered the latter part so quietly Yeosang almost didn't hear him.

"What do you mean by that?" He tried to step forward, to close the awkward gap of space between them.

The space was liminal, somehow pitch black at the edges while Wooyoung shone like a beacon. The golden glow that emanated from him felt like a warm hearth. It was impossible to tell how far apart they really were - he felt so close and so far in more ways than Yeosang could fathom.

"What did you mean by that, Wooyoung?" He demanded, taking another step and watching as the golden light shuddered, a shiver rippling through Wooyoung's reclaimed body.

"I never wanted to hurt them. I never wanted to hurt anyone." His voice sounded as fragile as the armlet had been.

Yeosang gasped as Wooyoung's face formed where previously there had been none. Tears of molten gold trailed down his cheeks and his brow was pinched as if he was in pain, as if it was taking every ounce of his control to keep from lashing out now that his body was surging with ancient power.

Yeosang increased his steps to a jog, then a run, but the space never grew smaller.

"Wooyoung, stop! Why?" He knew he had to be the one maintaining the physical distance and he felt that rejection like a physical knife in his gut.

"There's so much you don't know, Sangie. I wish I'd had time to tell you properly." Wooyoung answered cryptically, chest shuddering with a barely contained sob, or perhaps it was a growl. "I want to live and they want nothing more than to prevent that. Is it so horrible that I want to live too?"

Yeosang wanted so badly to punch something, anything. He settled instead for swatting at the fractals of gold that had begun to hang in the air, Wooyoung's wings shattered to create a dome of glittering gold around them. They glittered against the vast blackness beyond, like little twinkling stars pinned to the night sky.

"I don't understand! Why did you do it, then? Why did you kill all those people? Why bring the storms? Why play God like this?" Yeosang demanded, voice growing louder with each question.

"Because humans made me! They created me out of their own malice, they shaped me into a weapon, and the power they fed into me forced me!"

Wooyoung sank to the shiny obsidian floor, his bright glow almost entirely tucked away. The floating slivers appearing sharper now but still shining with what Yeosang felt was a hope reflected in his own chest. Wooyoung wasn't lost to him, not entirely. Not yet.

"You were my last chance. I was going to die and I will anyway if I don't take the others out of the equation. I'm just sorry you fell in love with them."

The space between them was suddenly so small and Yeosang didn't waste a second, kneeling beside Wooyoung but not yet touching him. He didn't miss the way the sharp golden needles had all shifted to point in his direction.

"What did you mean by that?"

"Your lovers," spoken with so much bitterness, "never once stopped to consider I was nothing more than a tool, a puppet with chains for strings. They were every bit as eager for destruction and yet they are celebrated while I'm condemned!" The needles trembled and Yeosang had to consciously force them into his peripheral as he focused on Wooyoung and the anguish on his face.

What was he supposed to say to that? He knew nothing of their time, nothing of what had transpired long before he was born. The weight of it sat heavy behind his ribs and all Yeosang wanted was to untangle the complicated web of tragedy.

"But why did you have to kill?" He wondered, ignoring his own blatant naivety. He refused to feel shame in wanting to fully understand.

Wooyoung was silent again but his wings fell away, falling into a beautiful, glittering pile of gold fractals that almost resembled a heap of sand in the center of an hourglass.

Yeosang didn't know if it was trust or exhaustion that had Wooyoung dropping his guard but Yeosang was grateful for it. He closed the gap quickly, fingers gently cradling Wooyoung's jaw to tilt his head. His thumbs faintly burned as he wiped away the golden tears but it was such a distant sensation in the face of Wooyoung's obvious pain.

"I was made to be a weapon. It was all I was allowed to be, and then it was all I was capable of. Even now, I want to hurt you. I want to pierce your body, bring you pain, and win for nothing more than the thrill.

I'm a monster, and I can't even truly blame them for hating me. But I still want to live."

Yeosang's mind was working at a mile a minute, more silence echoing between them as he really absorbed what he was learning. Everything they'd ever been told was wrong. Had the others known Wooyoung's origins? He had to believe they hadn't - likely still didn't.

Unable to continue that line of thought, Yeosang voiced the next fear that plagued him.

"And the way you spoke to me? The way you made me l-love you?" He could blame Wooyoung for that much, at least. Couldn't he?

Wooyoung winced as if Yeosang had struck him, turning against his hands to avoid his gaze. "I got too greedy."

He shifted to his knees, hands folded in his lap and seemed to silently mourn the warmth of Yeosang's hands as they fell away.

"Something like me should never touch something like you. You're so good, Yeosang. You were never meant to be mine.

[22152984]

"I wanted to be." Yeosang spoke to his own hands that hung limply in his own lap. He could still feel the slightest trickle of magic in his veins, could see the faint glow of it if he concentrated closely. Wooyoung hadn't taken everything from him. Not yet, at least.

The silence was loud in the echoing space of nowhere and made heavy by the subject that beckoned it.

"So what happens now?" Yeosang wondered once his skin started to crawl and the ringing in his ears grew too deafening.

Wooyoung stood slowly and shook out his shoulders as if to drop some mantle of emotion he'd allowed to settle over him. His wings gathered shape and Yeosang stood, afraid they'd turn in his direction once again. He couldn't help but doubt Wooyoung's control, not with the knowledge he'd just gained.

"Here's how this is going to go; I'm going to kiss you, just once so we can let go of the mystery, and then we're going to part ways. Any more than that will just make it harder for both of us." Wooyoung slowly reached for Yeosang's hand who snatched it away in a move that seemed to surprise both of them.

"Fuck you! You don't get to decide that all on your own." Yeosang snarled, tearful, angry, and disgustingly full of a love he wasn't — would never be — ready to let go of.

He flinched away as gold lightning crackled across the vast blackness around them and for the briefest moment he was awed at the beauty of it, of the stunning resemblance to kintsugi art. Maybe time, if he was afforded enough, would fill his heart with golden scars to remember Wooyoung by. He'd much rather that than the look of frustration and sorrow currently aimed in his direction.

Wooyoung paced, wings shivering with each turn as if it took every ounce of his will to hold his power at bay. His chest rose and fell in great heaves before he roared a visceral shout and swung to face a frozen Yeosang — too scared to run, too in love to fight back. A beautiful bird caught in a spider's web.

"You don't fucking get it! There's no other option, will never be any other option, Yeosang. I'm trying to give you an out!" He pulled at the roots of his hair and Yeosang could barely suppress the urge to take Wooyoung's hands in his.

"Go home, Sangie. Tuck yourself away somewhere safe, somewhere I can't ever find you, and forget about us. Forget about all of this. I'll do what I can to make it quick for them."

Fury, indignation, rejection, and a whole cocktail of other emotions he couldn't easily dissect in the moment welled up in Yeosang's stomach and forced salty tears from his eyes. He wanted to punch Wooyoung, wanted to tackle him into the ground and beat him until this sick illusory world shattered around them. He wanted to hit him until things made sense again, until he could crawl back beneath warm sheets tucked in by loving hands.

"I'm not bargaining with their fucking lives— Just like I'm not bargaining with yours! Why can't you just talk? Explain it to them." He demanded instead, stepping into Wooyoung's path and grabbing at his biceps when they nearly collided.

"They won't listen, Yeosang! You think they'll let me get within ten feet of them? They'll take one look at me and call forth all their magic to try and kill me permanently this time."

And, well, the townsfolk had always said there was something wrong with little orphan Yeosang.

"So use me as a shield. You won't kill me, will you? You can't." His eyes sparkled with something, some little mote of knowledge that lit up at that very moment. "Because you love me, don't you Wooyoung?"

"Shut up!" He snarled and Yeosang grinned, something fiery and feral with the kind of insanity only found in utter devotion.

The words "make me" had barely left his lips before they were crushed against surprisingly soft, supple gold that left streaks like gilded lipstick.

[22152984]

"I'm not capable of love, Yeosang. I was born from the blackened dregs of humanity, remember?" Wooyoung said, every softly spoken word laced with regret as they parted. Lips still touching and foreheads pressed together, Yeosang could feel the heat of Wooyoung's clawed hands at his waist. He didn't mind the sharp pinpricks as much as he thought he should — the pain tethered him to the now, to the desperation Wooyoung so adamantly refused to acknowledge.

"I want to possess you, covet you, pin you up like a butterfly where only I can look at you. I want to tear you apart with my own hands and put you back together again so every ounce of you has been touched by me." A bold declaration punctuated by a toothy snarl.

Yeosang closed his eyes and knew that if he hadn't met the other six before this moment he would have fallen into Wooyoung's caustic spell and called it love. As nauseating as it would have been to admit out loud, he now knew what love truly was because of them and knew it took so many different forms. Yeosang also knew it could be learned with enough care and time.

"I can teach you, if you let me. I just want things to be different — for all of us. I don't think things have to stay this way and I'm so greedy, Wooyoung. Did you ever stop to think I might want to covet you?"

It was clear he hadn't, his face slack in minor shock as he took a careful step back.

"You seem to have me on some pedestal — I'm not above those kind of thoughts and you're not wrong simply for having them. You're so much more than a weapon. I see it, I can feel it. The question is will you get out of your own damn way?" Yeosang had always known his stare could be intense but he wondered if it was even a fraction as much as the one Wooyoung leveled at him in that moment.

After a few more lingering seconds of tense silence and complicated eye contact, Wooyoung spoke.

"You said you'd be my shield," he side stepped the question. "Does that mean you'd die for me?" A beautifully arched brow lifted as Wooyoung crossed his arms over his chest, body language screaming avoidance while his eyes twinkled with a familiar playful curiosity.

Yeosang couldn't help but feel fond, his face relaxing and shoulders dropping as he once again closed the gap between them. He gently coaxed one of Wooyoung's hands free and held it between both of his own. His thumbs rubbed back and forth over knobby fingers tipped with claws.

His lips curled into the slightest smile as he pressed their palms together, surprised at the difference in the size. Even without the added length of the claws, Wooyoung's hand was just slightly bigger than his despite their close height.

"There's only one way I make it out of this alive, isn't there?" Yeosang's smile remained intact despite the pain laced throughout his words. "So why not die to protect someone I love? I think it's as good a reason as any."

He gasped softly as Wooyoung's hand suddenly snatched up his own and pulled their bodies flush. Yeosang lifted his free hand to rest on Wooyoung's shoulder, pressing even closer as he felt the warm cocoon of metal wings against his back. Wooyoung kissed one cheek, then the other, leaving a blush of soft rose gold in his wake.

"I guess that's true." Wooyoung wasn't smiling, instead his face had fallen into something so heartbroken Yeosang would never again wonder if he was incapable of love, not when it was reflected so blatantly in his eyes. "I can feel my control wavering even now. I'm scared I'm not strong enough to save you."

"You're scared you aren't strong enough to stop yourself from killing me, you mean." Yeosang dropped his smile, a sudden flatness to his tone that made Wooyoung flinch, though they didn't part from their tight embrace. "If it has to be someone I'd like it to be you."

Maybe he was a little insane, maybe solitude had also driven him to a desperation that bordered on madness. His delusions of grandeur had only heightened the danger their world faced; it made sense that his punishment would be death. It still sounded better than passing away peacefully but nameless and forgotten.

"I can't believe I'm going to do this. Fine. We try your way." Wooyoung nuzzled against his cheek almost like a cat and Yeosang could feel the searing warmth of molten golden tears smearing against his face. He wished he could see himself, baptized in gold by the hands of the one he'd come to love from voice alone. If this worked, he could feel those hands on him for years to come.

"Take us back. I'll protect you, I promise."

[liesmyth]

tfw "popular" fanon becomes so embedded in a fandom & discussions within fandom spaces that people just start treating it as the default and all interactions with others are coloured by this interpretation. have you considered that I actually don't subscribe to this take, which is nowhere in the source material? wait nvm, clearly not.

[liesmyth]

I'm never muting this post I love learning about fandom beef I'd never ever considered before

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

this and also fanfic writers choosing to write a chapter a year, because they don’t want to write more often than that, or abandoning their works entirely because they lose interest and don’t feel like continuing anymore is also a valid reason, and you’re an entitled asshole if you attack, guilt trip or shame them for it (being sad/disappointed is completely okay and normal, you can’t control how your mind feels and reacts to something, what matters is that you respect the author’s decision and don’t be a dick to them about it).

fanfic writers write for themselves and their own enjoyment. they’re kind enough to let you read their works for free. they don’t owe you any explanation. they don’t owe you the details of their personal lives. they don’t owe you anything.

[ficauthor]

[22152984]

if you're desperate and want something to read while ao3 is down i have a preview for one of my fics another hosted on bsky (i was putting it here but stopped)

trinket (polyteez, bsky thread)

pride [at world's end] (minsang, tags in doc)

[22152984]

if you're desperate and want something to read while ao3 is down i have a preview for one of my fics another hosted on bsky (i was putting it here but stopped)

trinket (polyteez, bsky thread)

pride [at world's end] (minsang, tags in doc)

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

“hiding injuries” is now a canonical AO3 tag! (x) another huge win for whump community