leechangjoons

[leechangjoons]

"Decannulation," Sangyeob had signed in response to what he'd been told, but neither of us missed the frown etched upon his face hearing it knowing what we knew.

For most people, having the trach removed would've been something that was a goal to work towards - for Sangyeob, it was akin to amputation, something he'd have to think matters through thoroughly and was unlikely to reconcile with peacefully. When he had first taken over that body and woken up in it, that trach had already been put in so he could be attached to a mechanical ventilator, and the damage to his vocal cords meant he still kept it even after he had weaned off it.

To Sangyeob, the trach was a part of his body like any other part of ours, and it had also been all he'd ever known. The lack of tolerance trying to have it taken out temporarily with his vocal cords collapsing certainly didn't help his temperament around it, and after calmly accepting the various treatments for it, his father had suggested surgery, which really seemed to make me feel he simply didn't understand what Sangyeob had felt about this.

"Not like we don't know the chance of you tolerating it getting removed was only 20%," Jisuk had broken the silence, scowling at what he'd just heard, "If you could get it out, we wouldn't still be here after nine years trying to figure out how to help you about it. What is going on in that head of the chairman's, seriously."

"I should talk to him," I leant back in my chair, already thinking of how to broach the subject, "...I'm more worried his obsession of pursuing this is going to impede the progress we've already made. It took you a while to be able to properly speak, and if the surgery damages your cords even further..."

"I don't understand," Sangyeob signed back, his stare falling on us, "Why have it removed? Are other people just very focused on removing a large part of their necks for no reason? Please explain."

The quiet hiss of Jisuk's ventilator punctured his words when he raised a hand again. "First of all, most people don't actually want to have them put in. It's considered a last resort in a lot of cases," he commented, gesturing back to Sangyeob and gently lifting the tubing that connected him to his device, "If I could breathe without this piece of shit doing most of the heavy lifting, I'd jump out of the trach almost immediately. I get you though - you've never had a good time having that shit taken out, and at this point we've just got to be honest about our expectations about it."

"Like you said, the chance of you tolerating it is too low. You've also always gotten anxious about it...it just feels like a lose-lose situation," I managed a mutter, "Either way, this surgery is to strengthen your voice anyway, so I'd focus on that. You're not allowed to speak for a fortnight - which really doesn't seem like it'll bother you too much..."

"I'm comfortable with signing. I learnt it and have been signing for some time. It rests my voice when I use it too much at work," Sangyeob's reply was plain, though he had begun making himself comfortable while he signed, "I have a lot to think about now, at least. Hopefully everything goes well. I have to think about how to speak to my father on the matter as well."

"Yeah, rest up," Jisuk rested a hand on Sangyeob's arm, then retracted it, "We should head back soon. Seungyeon? A favour?"

"I got you," I reached over to the outlet to disconnect the charging port from the wall socket, and a gentle tug on it retracted the cord back into the ventilator, "Stealing electricity for the backup battery again? Did you put Sangyeob up to it?"

"We're both willing parties," Sangyeob had by then closed his eyes, his signs barely visible from resting his hands on his stomach, "He came to me, and I reached over. Of course we're partners-in-crime in this. Why else would he come visit me?"

"Hey, I do care about you, contrary to popular belief," Jisuk sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically, "Being able to steal a bit of vent charge from the hospital is just a bonus. Besides, you plugged me in, so how is this my fault? You could reach over and take me off the circuit if you really found me that annoying."

"If only I could turn you off and on again to give you a personality reset," I snorted, patting Jisuk on the shoulder so we could get going, "Rest up, Sangyeob. We'll see you tomorrow."

[leechangjoons]

She visits the last subject that served her while she was still Princess in his dream, days before he would too succumb to the cruelties of old age.

To the wizened old man, though, she remains the same as when he had waited on her in the palace she and her mother lived out of. Even then, she had come to him willingly after giving away all her possessions to his family as relics of a bygone era, allowing them to live in the lap of luxury doing the same restoration work they had done serving her father and the kings before him.

"You have done the Seok family an immense service, princess," croaks the man as he takes her hands once again - he always fell to his knees upon seeing her and insisted his family do the same, even though she had lost her title decades ago, and nobody else remembered who she was almost fifty years after the fall of the last Joseon empires, "Your lowly minister could never repay that debt, the debt of leaving all you own to us for safeguarding. My children and those after them will serve you as faithfully as I did...I am certain of it."

"I don't need that, Master Artisan Seok," sighs the nameless woman as she rushes to help him up, "This is the least I can do for you, after you kept my secret so long ago. My immortality is a curse - and I could never inflict it on your descendants that way. All I ask is for them to hold onto my possessions and keep them the way they were when I was Princess. They can do whatever they please with it."

The old man nods, silently accepting this fate.

They sit together, master and subject, and part ways as old friends.

---- She reads of the tragedy that befalls the Seok family after the Gwangju uprising, one that she seemed forced to. Greed and hubris had torn the family apart by then, most of her original possessions with them scattered to the winds the same way the family had (some had escaped overseas to avoid capture, others killed in torture as they attempt to destroy parts of history with their hands) - but the great-grandson of her master artisan had returned to Korea in the meantime, and intended to stay put.

The last items of hers he inherited were an old set of annuls carved onto bamboo tablets, a ritual sword shattered in two uneven pieces, an iron drinking vessel and two of the beads on her original headdress. She thinks little of it - but she chuckles to herself noting how every men in the Seok family seemed to inherit the same features, the great-grandson included.

In truth, she didn't know what she would say or do around the descendant of her last subject. Where would she even start? Would he even believe her? She had left the family alone for hundreds of years by that point, and only this tragedy had been enough to rock her out of the self-imposed solitude she held. Perhaps it was best she kept her distance, especially considering how it seemed this tragedy seemed to be a direct result of this exact inheritance. ---- Her official meeting with the descendant - Jinhee - is one of necessity, having been made aware of his claim to Mireuk's legacy and with that too, his disabling accident in the far north.

She sits with him in his dream, silent as his consciousness, having absorbed divinity but too fighting against certain death, finally takes form. He, like his father, grandfather and the master artisan, had similar features: a tall, tan man with sharp features and keen eyes, but his harbored a far deeper grief and sadness than others ahead of him.

That, she understood, considering his status as one with total mastery of his family's craft intertwined with said family's tragedy.

It could've been delirium, or perhaps his body's attempts at clinging to life and divinity both at the same time, but Jinhee doesn't question her sitting quietly in his dreams, observing him from a frigid distance. She knows on the periphery that his friend has inherited her father's power - but this too had drawn his wrath, the wrath of a man utterly unwilling to let go of unparalleled might, and this accident had been his warning to her, haunting her at every turn.

Hyejun is aware that Jinhee's life will only become significantly more difficult, grappling with this life-altering disability along with divine power at the same time. Once upon a time, she had toyed too with bestowing Mireuk's might on the family who had served her as faithfully as they did, but with her struggles with Angmongseul looming overhead, she could not bring herself to do so.

She only hoped that she could help him as much as his family once helped her, even if she could never directly approach him.

----

Another decade flies by before she finally hunkers down on her bid of creating her own gods, preparing for a fight that she knows is inevitable. She takes the documentation she has for the four relics left with the Seok scion, heading down her mountain home to the quiet shophouse she knew he would be.

Jinhee had by then aged, something she found unusual for immortals like herself. Even then, his eyes remained sharp and incisive, examining the documents while she pretended to bluster about her inheritance as her own descendant - but he doesn't question it or her strange way of dress, withdrawing everything from his back room for her.

"Do you need me to bring it to your car?" he asks as he sends her off, having propped the plain wooden box carved with royal sigils on his lap, "At least let me put this in a bag so you don't get robbed the moment you leave the store."

"Oh, no, that won't be needed," Hyejun politely turns him down (maybe it was best they stayed apart), "You should get busy. I'll find a way to transport it on my own."

Jinhee raises an eyebrow, ever alert despite his withered form being confined to a wheelchair and the strange tube on his neck substituting his normal breathing cycles. Hyejun couldn't help but take pity on him, and it was all the more reason that she refused to impose.

They do not speak another word as Hyejun drags the box out of the store with her wagon - but she does not miss the knowing glare that prickles the back of her neck as she leaves.

-----

By the time she comes back to Jinhee in search of that final spark to finish her project, another few years had flown by. She had heard about his attempt at destroying the parliament with the golems he controlled, and how he had callously discarded most of them the moment they outstripped their use - but also his inevitable fall, and how he had been sent away to Pungdo for everyone's collective safeties.

How quaint. They were both now exiles, self-imposed or otherwise.

Even then, though, she noted he had aged yet again - now he resembled the artisan on his final days in service, refusing to retire even despite her offering him as many projects she could potentially think of so he could return to his family and live out the rest of his days. He remained tersely polite throughout, but the flicker of recognition from her drawing the broken hilt of her own sword had been priceless, a moment she would find herself cherishing for a long time afterwards.

He appraised the blade the same way the artisan once did, frowning slightly before resting it on the side of his arm, tracing the runes on it with two fingers and concentrating slightly. Every rune he wrote flared to life, frost coating the carving until the sword had floated from his grasp, aglow with newfound power.

"Wow," Hyejun had managed, trying to keep her jealousy and annoyance to a minimum, "If I knew it was this straightforward, I would've left the rest of the relics with you and taken a commission out."

"Better late than never," Jinhee shrugged, taking the hilt from the box to puzzle out how both parts of the sword came together, "Thank you for the business, patron saint of the Seok family."

"Patron-- you knew," Hyejun tamped down her shock to confirm her hypothesis, "When did you find out?"

Jinhee did not look at her. "Mireuk," he spoke after a long silence, resting both pieces of the sword he was working on in front of him at his work desk, "Every Champion has an artifact that reacts to it when its consciousness is active. The moment you came for your relics, I sensed a very strong force within you. You just seemed really invested in being your own great-grandchild, so I didn't question it either."

"That's so rude. Just because I look like I'm in my mid-20s forever doesn't change the fact that I'm still the friend of your great-grandfather and should be treated with equal respect," Hyejun puffed up indignantly, even despite her face burning up at being caught in her lie, "Who even taught you manners?"

"Clearly not my great-grandfather," Jinhee had put the sword away to remove the beads from inside the box, "And if you're so insistent, halmoni, I'm sure I can invent a seniors' discount just for you."

"Yah! How dare you talk down to me the way you are right now - in my time, I would've had you beheaded and your family exterminated," Hyejun had switched tacks to threatening now, "This is what you were tasked to do, so you shouldn't be demanding payment."

"Times are different now," sighed Jinhee, already pulling out a set of tools to carefully engrave tiny sigils into the beads, "You can't tell me that you'd pay me in a crate of silver ingots in 3 to 5 working days, and I'd have to drive my carriage up to your place to pick it up from your houseservants. I'd probably get arrested for having undeclared relics, not to mention all the logistics afterwards."

Hyejun frowned, crossing her arms in front of herself as she waited for him to finish his work. She couldn't help but notice how much of the misery he had was seemingly lifted by something unseen, and that despite his choice to age seemed far chipper than he had been years before.

When she had left with the four relics, she found herself at peace seeing him continue to work from the window - for a moment, her old friend was there again, appraising every item they received from foreign dignitaries and offering her the best ones he could find of the lot, regaling her with their history and significance.

She knew, deep down, that she would visit again.

[leechangjoons]

Inyoung waited until her son had hiccoughed himself into an awkward silence before she began speaking again.

"I was worried you'd find out," she began quietly, trying to be as gentle as possible (Dongyoon had always been docile - she couldn't possibly hurt him again in quick succession), "I know your harabeoji disagreed, though. You're old enough to come to your own conclusions - why your birth parents passed, and why we had to flee."

Dongyoon swallowed hard, his hands reflexively running through the chain that held his trach tube in place. Soft sobs still escaped from him on occasion, but his head remained lowered, almost trying to ground him against whatever news he was about to receive.

Inyoung browsed through the files he had brought her, and it was more than enough for her to understand why he'd broken down like this. "They did create you as a vessel to attract forces beyond their control towards them - as all scientists did, except their obsession was about the divine and how to harness limitless ability," she continued carefully, leaning against the countertop as her gaze searched her son's, "That is something I won't absolve Yowon and Jingoo for, even as one of Yowon's closest friends before their untimely demise."

"I was their son," Dongyoon's stare met Inyoung's, blazing with an unspoken anger that she'd not seen in him for many years, "Not their tool for some sort of commune. If they didn't care for me, why did they make me? Why even plan to have children if they didn't even want me around outside of...of some sort of sick, twisted experiment?"

"I--I don't know," Inyoung faltered, but she let him lay in her lap - he curled up instinctively, his half-lidded stare refusing to look at her, "I can't answer that question whatsoever...I'm not Yowon or Jingoo. However, there's at least one thing I can confirm."

Dongyoon's head jerked up, a motion of curiosity Inyoung had been used to since he was a child. She'd made that choice almost two decades ago, spiriting him away from the burnt husk of his birth parents' apartment to ensure nobody could get their hands on her friend's legacy, and to see him flourish the way he had...that was something she could never put into words.

"You were created to be the perfect specimen, yes, but you also made choices to be the kind, cheerful man I raised," Inyoung continued, gently plucking a tuft of hair from her son's face, "That's all you. You chose to be kind, and you chose to be resilient. All this inside you are aspects of yourself you built block by block - this won't change just because you found out you were crafted, not conceived."

"Nuh," Dongyoon grumbled, resting his face away from Inyoung, "You can't just start complimenting me like I didn't receive world-shattering news. That's just unfair."

"Am I wrong?" Inyoung sighed, resting a protective arm over Dongyoon, "In truth, I suspected that Yowon and Jingoo had experimented on you a long time ago. I just...didn't want to say it aloud. I didn't want to confirm it was true, and they were both monsters who would harm their own son that way."

"When did you know?" Dongyoon's inquisitive gaze met his mother's, suddenly more curious than upset, "Did you know since before?"

"...your accident. Nobody should've survived an explosion the way you had," It pained Inyoung to speak of it (it brought her back to see Dongyoon, covered in bandages and tubes, teetering on the brink of death), "You weren't as badly burnt as they expected you to be - essentially, you left the hospital with a broken leg and your tracheostomy when any other person in your position would've spent years in compression suits and probably even more surgeries. I...I didn't want to say it aloud. It meant confirming that my own friends were actually monsters."

Dongyoon sighed in quiet annoyance. "I don't like the trach still," he grumbled, lifting his neck to show Inyoung where the tube sat below his Adam's apple, "It saved my life, but I still don't like it."

Even then, he scooched closer in her lap, closing his eyes at last. "I'm glad you're my mum," he ended, softly sighing as he did, "I wouldn't choose anyone else to be my mum."

Inyoung let him sleep, contemplative. Her mind had been blank since the beginning of the conversation - more functioning off her own instincts, and now she suddenly, abruptly understood.

[leechangjoons]

Narae’s Lineage + Non-Non Nursing Home

Narae’s adoptive parents are both interesting people. Her father, Kwon Taehyo was a demolitions expert who had been injured in a bomb blast while stationed away from Korea, and her mother, Kim Yeongmi, was a skilled military medic stationed with Taehyo who adamantly left her job to care for her brother Kim Jinon, who was then fighting an increasingly uphill battle with ALS, otherwise known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. 

When Jinon passed away, Yeongmi sought to alleviate the suffering of those who too struggled with being unable to express themselves as well as before or simply needed a shelter. With that, she opened Non-non Nursing Home with Taehyo, taking in those who were unable to afford the often high fees of hospitals and privatised nursing homes as well as AIDS patients who had been evicted from their homes or ostracised by their families due to their illnesses. Non-non came from the pet name Yeongmi called her younger brother by, which she carried on as his legacy. 

The quaint, 2-storey place sits in front of a large patch of forest, allowing its residents a comforting view with nature as well as lots of fresh air. The lower floor houses the residents of the place, along with a cafeteria as well as doctors’ quarters for residents in wheelchairs to move around. There often are activities such as various classes to engage the residents, along with physiotherapy and counselling sessions by trained psychologists (Narae being one of them) to help improve their conditions. The second storey houses the AIDS-suffering residents as well as the immunocompromised, giving them a sterile environment to prevent further infections or worsening their conditions. Narae’s parents, however, live in a house next to Non-non instead of within the compound itself, relishing their peace but also close enough for them to reach the place if they’re needed. 

It was this place where Narae grew up after her accident, learning how to handle her prosthetics and going through PTSD counselling with her parents. She never questioned things here, this eventually becoming her new normal, and even now, she often throws away everything she has to be able to run back to Non-non and continue helping residents, some whom watched her grow up and flourish as a person. She’s always felt indebted to her parents, and always seizes the opportunity to give back whenever she’s able. 

[leechangjoons]

Made some Dongyoons, updating him after a couple years

He probably has the trach kept in for good due to the burns he sustained in the car accident that killed his coach, but he's chipper about it and has improved to only having a slight limp in his left leg which will allow him to run again!

[leechangjoons]

Iron Knights

The Iron Knights was a secretive organisation formed by the NIS in tandem with Destiny Liminal, allowing a small group of elite knights to become modified with godly DNA and mechanical armor in order to make them more efficient and on par with shifters. This group would eventually become the basis of the terrorist cell Protobeast, an anti-shifter group that used similar technology to hunt and kill known shifters and Chosens.

Known members of the group often only use singular-word aliases, pertaining to their abilities. One prominent member, Kim Soohong, was killed by accident in the line of duty to the military and his death subsequently covered up - but with that, his armor "Jugilis" was lost, and his then partner, Sangyi retired, swearing to investigate Soohong's death to his last breath and taking his set of armor, "Thorns" with him.

Made up of a mixture of Destiny Liminal subjects and modified elite soldiers, most of the group's identities are kept secret to the public and often have public personas.

Known Iron Knight Members

"Crown" (real name Ha Yoonsu): an obsessive and tough-talking young man who was promoted to leader of the Iron Knights when the original leader, "Leaves" (Chanyoung) disappeared. When he finds out Chanyoung was in fact still alive, he repeatedly tries to silence the now weakened Chanyoung in an attempt to secure his position once and for all. He was human, and chose to be modified in order to ensure he could keep up with the Destiny Liminal subjects - his favoured weapons are two long blades known as Tachyon Cutters.

"Leaves" (DV-23): the now mild-mannered software engineer Chanyoung with his dark past mired in highly skilled assassinations of political targets for the NIS. He chooses to keep his past self secret, but when Crown reappears, he is left with no choice but to once again mobilise his "Leaves" armor to take Crown down through a series of extensive fights. He eventually accepts his mother Shinrok's help in distributing his psychic abilities through the usage of her invention, containment units named "Booster Energies" that are injected through shafts on his spine.

"Spoons" (DM-21): the skittish and driven history student Joosang who had once been used as a profiler and interrogator, he escapes after his diagnosis and chooses to stand with Chanyoung when Crown reappears. He takes down Crown once through overloading Crown's brain with stolen memories, forcibly shutting down the armor in the process, but with his guardians' help, he has created a far more efficient armored suit to help with his condition.

"Boulder" (DT-26): created initially alongside DV-23 to assist him, the woman who takes the alias "Yeeun" would eventually turn against him due to perceived betrayal, and now devotes her time to trying to turn both the subjects in - she strongly believes that this is their only way to ensure that both of them don't get killed by Crown's rampage, and uses a greatsword in combat allowing her to parry and use mighty cleaves to break others' defenses.

"Jugilis" (real name Kim Soohong): deceased due to an accident in his day job in the military, he chose modification in the hopes of alleviating the burden of his ill mother and overworked brother. Became a vengeful spirit that eventually would find peace as an enforcer for the hellish realms, but able to take on temporary corporeal form through possessing his old Jugilis armor. Lovers with Sangyi, he chooses neutrality in this conflict due to being dead, and harbors no ill will to either group.

"Thorns" (real name Lee Sangyi): A reserved, cheerful art therapist who left his previous position due to the sudden death of his boyfriend Soohong, Sangyi took the Thorns armor with him and chose to retire from the NIS in the process. Along with Soohong, he also chose modification in an act of solidarity. He owns an art clinic that eventually ends up serving as a shelter for Boulder when she shows up wounded at his doorstep, but he, on behest of one of his past patients, chooses not to act until he finally can't.

"Treads" (real name Heo Namjun): A chipper and snarky cybersecurity expert, Namjun turned to accepting experimentation to extend his own lifespan, having a lifelong affliction requiring him to use a ventilator through a tracheostomy at all times. Along with his partner Dohoon, they've both been activated, resolving to approach DM-21 through one of his "fathers", Jangil.

"Valiant" (real name Kim Dohoon): A spirited young ex-prosecutor who accepted the Valiant armor to restore his vision after an accident, Dohoon now resolves to approach his idol, the fallen prosecutor Jangil, in the hopes of tracking down the missing DM-21 and pay off his and Namjun's mounting medical debt.

"Bundle" (real name unknown)

"Hands" (real name unknown)

"Moth" (real name unknown)

[leechangjoons]

Jinhee's accident, expanded upon:

On behest of Sungha, Yoonah's husband, Jinhee would travel to a shrine in North Korea on the guise of "cultural exchange", but in truth was investigating a strange relic that had been uncovered there and was due to negotiate a joint study on it with the North Korean cultural preservation joint.

This was however no ordinary relic - it was a shard of Giwon (now known as "Seungryong")'s divine spark that contained immense power, and when Jinhee approached to retrieve it, the power rebounded upon him and sent him into the next pillar, fracturing his neck irrevocably in the process as the shrine, now disturbed, began to disintegrate and fade out of existence.

Shiro, Jinhee's travelling partner, would find him in the snow bleeding out - and in this however yield her own pact to Mireuk, her original god to stabilise him in the process. This inadvertently saved his life, but the damage had already been done, and in this both he and Shiro would be arrested and tried for "attempted theft" and "destruction of a cultural heritage site".

The shard of Giwon would escape on its own however and ride dormant in Shiro's body when she touches Jinhee, subtly directing her to the gauntlets that it had been retrieved from. Shiro would eventually discover them and seal her second pact once and for all, while Jinhee, with his career tarnished atop a life-altering injury, would descent into a different form of madness, obsessed with exacting the same pain upon Yoonah and Sungha both.

[leechangjoons]

Titan Antiques remained quiet as always, a solitude that Jinhee vastly preferred compared to the bustle of the great outdoors. The shophouse allowed him to work in relative silence, receiving and restoring various relics and antiques from curious collectors and various sources (anonymous or otherwise), and he relished putting his hands to good use after the loss he acutely felt fifteen years ago.

Really, most of his body didn't work the way he would prefer them to - but he'd adapted to allow himself some leeway, and the tools he'd been gifted by the professor three years ago served him well. He had made some liberal edits to the implements that were permanently installed into him while he had the time, his body more calcified into clay with his patron's affiliation. If anything, having a clay replacement for the tube that kept his airways open meant that it acted as an artificial extension his body didn't reject, and he could easily recreate and replace the outer section without disturbing the inner cannula he used to clear any blockages.

Even then, he sighed quietly as he dusted the stone arrowhead mounted before him with a small brush, trying to examine every detail he could from the structure before pushing himself away, shining the beam of light onto it as if to try to expose any blemishes. Everything he crafted needed to be perfect, unlike his now broken and unreliable self, and when he was satisfied, he glanced up to see the door tinkle open and reveal the familiar professor inviting herself into the place.

Jinhee didn't like or dislike things anymore, after his condition had forced him into an existence that forced him to gauge his energy levels on a regular basis, and oftentimes was racked with so much pain that he had no capacity left to think. The professor's company, however, was one he enjoyed, and at some point, he'd began looking forward to her visits, her thoughtlessly barging into his presence before they'd realised they had more in common than expected.

"Oooh," the professor had cooed then, examining one of the shelves before turning towards him, stumbling slightly on her cane, "What are you making? I have cookies I bought from the bakery down the street you can eat before you continue. Show me, show me, I need to know-"

Jinhee waved at her as if to turn off her rambling. "A stone arrowhead from an anonymous source. I haven't gotten around to dating it yet. Not sure what to do with it - if it ends up being older than I suspect it is, I might end up keeping it," he commented blaisely, removing the mist collar and swapping over to the HME he'd gotten used to attaching to the end of his trach, "Right, since you're here, I have something here you might want."

He watched the professor perk before cheerfully hobbling over - for a moment, her radiance made him forget that she too had a difficult life, and was in as much pain as he often was. He could never understand how she kept her spirits up as much as she did (wasn't it exhausting?), but as she leant over his worktable, he pushed himself over towards the low shelves and retrieved the gift from it.

When he opened his palm towards her, he watched her take the dragon statue and peer at it through her gloved hands, squinting at it under the lamplight in curiosity and glee. "Oooh, dragon. Where is it from?" she asked, ever eager to have her questions answered, "It's pretty! Are you sure you want to give it to me?"

"I suspect it was broken off a chalice or cauldron, neither which is accessible to me right now for restoration purposes. Judging from the make, it's probably late-Silla architecture," Jinhee made his usual conjecture, watching the professor turn the small statue in her hands in one of her characteristic fidgets, "I sanded off the bottom, then removed most of the oxidised junk from its exterior. It should be an interesting novelty for you."

He watched the professor pocket the statue - it disappeared into one of her many strange satchels, satchels that seemed to hold physically impossible amounts of items. "Thank you!" she chirped, her green eyes twinkling with barely contained excitement before she waved her arms at him, "Can I hug you as thanks? Please?"

Jinhee examined her once again - she lacked malice, and had never stated a word about his current, unsightly form. If anything, he'd seen the extent of her supposed accident, only once, but even a glimpse of it made his stomach churn and forced him to question how he viewed himself.

(The only other time he had questioned himself was when he had to confront Woojin's corpse, moments before that god from the tower had brought him back to life. He had told himself he had never wanted to see the extent of his burns ever again - and in Woojin's presence, would never complain about his chronic pain.)

Who was he to deny her? She always seemed earnest, and he sighed before giving her a nod - she dived into him happily, burrowing up against his body quickly and letting go just as fast. It always seemed fascinating to him how acutely she seemed to be aware of people's likes and dislikes just from a few moments of cohabitation, and unlike the constant twinge of pain he had from a fraying nervous system, she had ensured to leave him only a small amount of warmth.

She grinned back at him, a lopsided one that seemed as bright as the sun itself. He nodded back, uncertain of how to feel about the matter as she once again meandered to some of the chairs to sit in them, crossing her legs and perching on them like a bird. He shook his head, returning to his next project - sieving through a small stack of heavily oxidised copper coins that he was trying to rinse off in a nearby basin.

The professor needed to visit more often. Maybe it was what kept him sane throughout these times.

[leechangjoons]

Name: Jinhee Shifter Form: Regigigas Appearance: A tan, lean man with a dark stare, Jinhee's face, framed by a set of comfortable half-rimmed spectacles, never seems to hold any other expression outside contempt. He leans on a set of loop crutches, and a trachestomy tube is visible on his neck, something he rarely hides - even then, his Tidal Bell rests on a second chain around his neck that is prominently displayed in front of him. He's often dressed in a simple white office shirt and light green pants, showcasing the runic symbols of his patron on his arms, and just like the other golems, he has small scars on top and below his eyes and three evenly-spaced scars down his nosebridge that open into pupilless gemlike "eyes" while he uses his abilities. Personality: Reserved, otherwise stoic and intelligent, Jinhee's life is racked with pain and misery and is something he actively takes out on others. A self-absorbed but also brilliant man with his craft honed down to an art, Jinhee has little tolerance for failure even to himself, and is otherwise an intensely focused man whose vengeance and eventual fall from grace is often lamented. Even now, picking the pieces up from his vengeful obsession, his anger has subsided significantly as he channels his intensity to other causes, as if the strong power that courses through his very form has mellowed. History: Once an ambitious assemblyman whose family specialised in pottery and archaelogical restoration, Jinhee's fall from grace would've been catalysed by his colleague, Sungha, someone he would've otherwise called a friend. An accident travelling to a snowy temple close to the North would see Jinhee become partially paralysed, no longer able to pursue the craft he grew up with and missing his window for a hotly contested running for presidency, and Sungha and his wife Yoonah would become the subject for Jinhee's drawn-out revenge, bitter that he'd been robbed of everything and betrayed by Sungha's inaction.

In this, however, Jinhee would inherit the power of Regigigas, the architect and master of the golems, and would use this power to contest Yoonah's presidential term throughout - he neither bent to her threats nor cared for any benefit she could offer him, his singleminded obsession with ensuring both she and Sungha would receive the same social assassination he had eclipsing the reason he once held. Even manipulating the golems that served under him, sentient individuals, did not deter his advance.

Eventually, however, this would backfire severely as all the golems overcharged and fell inert - he would have blood on his hands killing four otherwise innocent individuals and severely wounding another, and when the survivor, Okbin, would find him again, the defeated Jinhee yielded his Tidal Bell, the brunt of his vengeance finally allowing him some clarity in what he'd just committed.

There was still a silver lining in matters as he'd been brought back to custody - therapy that would perhaps alleviate his pain even slightly, as long as he'd agreed to restorative effects for the destruction he'd wrought. With no room to deny it, and being disallowed to die, Jinhee reluctantly agreed and was transferred to Stellaris Energy, where he would serve the rest of his term applying his knowledge to less dangerous efforts.

With physiotherapy, Jinhee once again got to his feet and that was when Regigigas found him again. He accepts immortality a second time, this time with renewed purpose, and now runs Titan Antiques, a quiet shophouse that deals in collector's relics. Powers: Like his counterpart, Jinhee is able to withstand extreme temperatures and has inhuman strength allowing him to move even large swathes of land - being an architect by trade also allows him to use his abilities to shape any element of his choice and transmute them into structures or even semi-sentient beings. He is functionally immune to the material he is transmuting, so even poisons or lava have no effect on him if he is shaping them with his hands.

He is also able to restore divine artifacts as well as imbue artifacts with divinity (with the corresponding god's consent), which makes him the only Chosen able to reverse the "death" of another Chosen through destroying their artifact.

He is also able to remotely seize control of his patron's "creations" (Bumsoo, Okbin, Hyunwook, Jihoon and Yikang) and telepathically communicate with them, even to the point where he can impose his will on them if he desires. Immortal/Semi-Immortal?: Immortal Alignment: Neutral Evil Other: Stinkyyyy

[leechangjoons]

I didn’t really expect to slip by unnoticed, but here we were. In the quiet room sat the boy, almost frozen in time when he turned slowly towards me- he called to me once again, his faltering and slurred voice carrying through the hallways when I slid the door shut with my foot to greet him. 

“Conductor,” he greeted with a disarmingly radiant grin, “Meet again.” 

The title sent a shockwave through me. I had never given my actual name to anyone I’d travelled to assist: all they knew me as was the Conductor, someone who piloted timelines like directing a train or bus from location to location. He just so happened to be one of those lost souls. Giving a nod of greeting, I sat on the bed next to him before gesturing to the black, pearl handed cane he held in his hands. 

It seemed off, in a way. He’d preferred an umbrella the last few times I’d ran into him and Jungmyeong. As I met his gaze, the boy’s eyes revealed an atypical clarity I hadn’t quite expected from someone who’d been shot in the head and lived. What I understood was that his ability to learn had been entirely compromised. What I hadn’t expected was how wily the boy was, using this to his advantage to throw others off their stride. 

He tapped the cane, then returned his gaze back to me. Even without speaking, he’d communicated what the cane actually was. 

We’d been looking for methods to prevent the Beast from manifesting by keeping him within our line of sight- so much so that we’d missed what was right under our nose the entire time. I nodded, taking this information in without betraying the spike of anxiety I suddenly felt. The boy smiled again, seeming relaxed about matters even as everything seemed to crumble around us, and eventually he struggled to a standing position, glancing behind him before shutting his eyes, adjusting his cane such that it leant outwards--

The effect was instant, and I shielded myself as the gargantuan creature barrelled into the building, seizing the calm boy by the waist as it exited and left the rest of it surprisingly intact.

I lowered my center of gravity at last, taking this all in awed silence.

Of course he did. Of course he did that to protect everyone else. He knew exactly what the Beast had wanted and let it take him.

[leechangjoons]

It’s been way too long since I casted my mind that far back about myself, my origins, who I really am. 

Princess-Consort Bae Sik of the Bae clan, daughter of Bae Yoon, sister of Bae Dal and child of a monster. Times were easier three centuries ago, where mother sought only to grant us both comfort, but she had been mocked relentlessly by the rest of the court for being unable to give the patriarch the son they desired. My clearest memories was being groomed for responsibility the same way my sister was, treated more as a princess who required all kinds of knowledge to survive power struggles and assassinations than a childbearing machine or a sow: Mother was fair that way. 

He however never saw us as children, more a means to an end. Unni would disappear when I was ten, taken by a goddess of the moon as a sacrifice for his endless pursuit of balancing an otherwise broken and indecisive court. When I too turned twenty-five with no sign of being smiled upon by the gods, though, he had taken matters into his own hands. Chained to an altar devoted to the nightmare seer, god of the eclipse, I would then be sacrificed in front of the man I was betrothed to as well as the court as a showing of power...and to ensure that I would never come back if the ritual were to fail. 

Of course, Angmongseul was not exactly the happiest being functionally slapped into my body, and as a mortal then, it wasn’t as if I was supposed to be prepared to be chained to a god for the rest of eternity. The next thing I remembered was waking up in a temple, surrounded by concerned shamans that were only happy that I had somehow survived the procedure and had saved me from becoming his personal arcane battery for more genocide. My powers did not manifest until a decade later, having largely repressed the experience for my own sanity, but when everyone who looked at or touched my bare skin began to fall asleep without explanation, I began using a blindfold instead and trained myself in martial arts, seeking to destroy him the next time I saw him. 

When I felt ready, though, I didn’t have time to consider my next options. All I had to do was to run, knowing he was able to see everything I do, all that I had cultivated, and would do anything to return me to his side: by force if necessary. In that, however, Junhan had spirited me away to his domain, presenting me to his superiors as the conduit that had been permanently sealed inside me. Obviously we were going to get laughed out of what was basically a heaven equivalent, they weren’t going to keep a mortal woman there as storage, but that also meant that we were moving constantly from place to place to avoid detection and triggering any surges with my powers. 

The rest of existence seemed to be more of a fugue state between being awake and asleep. Being forcibly bound to an artifact that had never Chosen to me had severe drawbacks to one’s sanity and physique, and mine manifested in a constant inability to stay awake or asleep for extended periods. I holed up at a shack at the foot of one of Jirisan’s 3 peaks, secluding myself from humanity for my own safety and ensuring that nobody would be affected by my ability, occasionally snatching a few nightmares here and there from travelling hikers to sustain myself and gain their memories. 

Eventually, however, my powers grew easier to manage with thick long-sleeved clothing and wearing spectacles. I posed as a winter-semester student with supposed narcolepsy, earning myself several degrees as I studied over and over to fill the time I’d missed trying to ensure nobody died from my abilities. After a while, I just became Bae Hyejun, a weirdly young historian that just so happened to be a very good hypnotherapist. 

It’s funny how life turned out about this at the end.

I fell in love! With someone I couldn’t put to sleep! And that seemed to really be the long and short of the matter, hadn’t it?

Suddenly, I had become peaceful, the chains on Angmongseul sagging off him as we came to initially a tenuous truce, and eventually some form of understanding about us. When we finally shook hands and took this all in, I’d taken the time to also braid my hair down to how I’d used to wear it as a princess - and by accepting his power, my hair had turned completely white, instead of the awkward streaks from my forced immortality before.

Even then, Father weighed upon me, observing us both from his immortal hall that orbited the earth. Maybe I had a choice - or maybe...just maybe, I too could play god the same way he’d once been.

I’d taken the time out to source some of my old items from the museums I had donated under aliases from before, posing as a descendant eager to retrieve them as heirlooms - a set of black jade pendants, a shattered sword belonging to my betrothed before his unfortunate fall to Oreumyasu (a cycle that haunted all his next incarnations, as I’d find out down the line), a series of tablets documenting my and my sister’s eventual ascension to the throne and an old ceremonial censor from my time at the temple.

Considering everything, it wasn’t too difficult to imbue them with abilities - I dubbed them the Ruinous Relics, my familiars who had the innate skills of weakening those around them to exploit their weaknesses. All it then took was a thought, a single touch, to spread them out to find their own Chosens, a choice Father never let me have.

That’s out of my hands now, isn’t it?

[leechangjoons]

Jooyoung had gotten to the junkyard indicated, watching the strange capsule wiggle furiously with a strange glow. Sungwoo followed, though he’d drawn his axe and flexed it in his hand, waiting patiently until the chute opened, revealing a bright orange paw that strained to pull the rest of itself out.

“Aliens,” muttered Sungwoo, glancing towards his younger protege, “We’ll have to try to pull them out if they’re alive. Do you think they can translate Hangul?”

“Time to find out,” Jooyoung tapped the hill and it formed a staircase, allowing her to hobble up to the top of the chute with her cane for support. She watched the paw pathetically feel around for any kind of support before reaching down, yanking at it for a few moments before finally pulling out a strange, jackal-like beast that seemed to find his footing and exit the capsule.

Sungwoo readied himself, watching the beast unfold into an inhuman height - white-furred with grey dapples, the most striking property of the being was his orange-and-cream colored prosthetics that seemed stark against his otherwise drab self, a strange green liquid swirling within its interior. The beast lumbered, speaking a snarling and deep language he didn’t before turning to Jooyoung, waving towards her.

“He says he’s got a friend still trapped in there,” Jooyoung’s eyes kept a steady glow from the universal translation spell she used to communicate with such beings, “Let’s try to pull the other guy out first, then we can talk.” She manifested a large green hand from her cane, manuvouring it to put the strange alien aside before reaching inside, pulling out a second jackal-like beast: this one with black fur and four eyes that seemed to regard the humans with a calm demeanor compared to their impatient-looking companion.

The quartet stood in silence as the willowy dark-furred alien lowered their body, their four eyes studying Jooyoung before sweeping over to Sungwoo in detached interest. They huffed, gesturing towards the white-furred one and speaking in hushed tones for a few moments and Jooyoung tapped Sungwoo with her cane, allowing her friend to also understand them.

“I’m Verric. This is Josiah,” spoke the white-furred being, gesturing to his companion, “We were supposed to go...somewhere else. You are so very small, I’ve never quite seen people like you two before. Not without enhancements, I suppose. They don’t do well back home.”

“You’re a gnoll? Or?” Jooyoung rested her cane sideways, sitting on it as she floated closer to Verric’s eye level, “You’re definitely not from here, or anywhere near these parts.”

Josiah scoffed softly. “Gnolls, she calls us,” they chuckled, seemingly finding her amusing, “What we are isn’t as important though. Aren’t you worried that you might be invaded? Or that we were secretly hostile and might mean you harm to take advantage of your kindness?”

“We’ll cut you down first,” Sungwoo rested his axe on the ground, leaning on it as his stare did not waver, “Don’t underestimate us.”

Verric laughed. “Sure you can,” he taunted sarcastically, resting his hands on his knees as he lowered himself to stare at them both, “Whatever, though. If we’re gonna try to get off this planet, we’ll need somewhere to stay first. This...whatchamacallit. Is there a bunker or somewhere we can hide? Don’t even know if our food stash is going to last us with how busted the ship is.”

“Can you all eat vegetables or meat?” suggested Sungwoo, studying them closely and matching them with his knowledge of such creatures, “If you can eat human food I don’t see it being such a big problem.”

“I abstain from meat,” Josiah replied, their half-lidded stare surveying the area, “Your planet is green. Lush with life. A lot like home before the Searing. It would be fascinating to compare notes. What does your...food look like? Pre-packaged, pitiful pickings? Or something more interesting?”

Jooyoung made an illusion of a simple kimbap roll. Josiah leant in, squinting before trying to hold it with their hand and startling when it passed through. “Such mastery of illusion, yet staying here in such a backwards planet. What a waste of your talents,” they commented, before studying the roll once more, “Strange food you have here. I look forward to learning more of the culture.”

“You can’t be serious, Josiah,” Verric sucked in air through his teeth, his tail lashing in quiet irritation at this, “What if they just poison us with it? I know you’re crazy but how can we trust these...uh, small hairless aliens?”

“Surely you jest,” Josiah placed their hat on their head once more, shrouding their features, “Poison does little to us both. It wouldn’t be our first venture into hostile beings’ territory. As for you, little mage with the cane. Would you perchance be able to craft some illusory disguises for us? You are skilled. I’m certain you have some form of shrouding magic at your disposal.”

“What do I get in exchange for helping you?” Jooyoung retorted, resting her weight on her cane again as she narrowed her eyes, “You know we can’t just let you pass and walk around.”

“My knowledge is at your disposal. I find that often is a fair exchange for safe passage, small hairless child,” Josiah tipped their hat with a flourish, “Professor Josiah Praxis, the prodigal botanist of Ferros, is pleased to meet you. I can tell you everything you need to know about the most poisonous substances known across the cosmos, or medicinal herbs that might allay your chronic pain.”

“Maybe she’s bluffing and she only knows a couple parlor tricks,” Verric stood back up, the mechanics of his body sloshing and whirling as he did, “Tell you what. Since Josiah cut you a deal, I’ll match you. You craft me a hot hairless being as a disguise, I’ll be at your disposal as a bodyguard.”

Jooyoung tilted her head. “I’m pretty strong,” she admitted, eying Verric silently, “Your deal kind of sucks compared to learning about poisons.”

“Oh, please. My callsign is Neo. I’m just one of the most expensive intergalactic mercs alive. You’d be in safer hands than your rickety joints can support you,” scoffed Verric, flicking his tongue out at Jooyoung before he opened one of his paws, and with a short gooey noise, a bo staff made of congealed jelly formed in his hand, “To top it off, I’ll tell you my jelly recipe. It forms weapons, immobilises folks and just makes it all around annoying to deal with. Better?”

“You’re putting all your cards on the table for this,” observed Jooyoung as Sungwoo excused himself seeing the situation handled, “Why?”

Verric leant in, giving a small hiss into Jooyoung’s ear. “We like talent. I’m not blind and know we can’t take you on with what we have right now. My boy Josiah’s the priority and if they’re pitching you that big an offer, you’ve got something in you they probably noticed,” he commented, managing a grin from ear to ear, “Someone who can craft illusions thoughtlessly is a coveted treasure across the cosmos. Magic is hugely desirable.”

“Ok, on one condition then,” Jooyoung pulled away, glancing between them.

“Speak your terms,” Josiah flourished a paw.

“I want to go off with you to your planet when this is finished. If you can bring me there, I can come back anytime I want,” Jooyoung commented, “Deal?”

“Sure, but we’re missing one detail - what’s your name, pipsqueak?” Verric’s stare did not waver as he stared her down.

“Myron. Here my name is Jooyoung,” replied the dragon, “I’d suggest you come up with cover names too. I’ll bring a thesaurus - there’s a fort overlooking the junkyard you can crash at while you try to fix the ship. I’ll come by and see if I can help...I’m a better mechanic than I am a mage, anyway.”

[leechangjoons]

It was always difficult to deal with Jooyoung’s bad days, really, but Jangil knew that the person who suffered the most was probably Jooyoung herself with everyone dropping all they were doing to help her. 

He’d spent most of his time carrying her around the house to get her clean and tucked in, and despite her quiet sobs, Jooyoung had still been able to talk (which meant that she wasn’t entirely racked with pain that she was catatonic). She had spent most of her time apologising and berating herself, seeming more like a child than the adult she really should’ve been, and Jangil had gently offered her some plushies in the hopes of lifting her mood. 

Jooyoung listlessly accepted them, gently scratching at it before she rolled over, closing her eyes. “I know what you’re going to say,” Jangil had interjected before she could continue to beat herself up more, “It’s no trouble at all for us both. It hasn’t been for years. There’s no breaking point for this, but you need to work on your self-worth if you’re keeping this up.” He teased the turtle plush out of Jooyoung’s arms before giving her a heat pack instead, a motion she accepted with little protest while she continued to hunch with her back against him. 

“Won’t know where to start,” Jooyoung muttered to herself, placing her hands on the pack with a sigh, “We always have this conversation, and the dialogue options barely if ever change. Why are you so determined to change my mind about something that’s true?” 

“Cause it’s like...well, bubble tea pizza,” Jangil lifted a hand, his other hand scrolling through some menu options for takeouts, “It’s wrong and stupid, and nobody should want it nor actually like it.” 

The shift in topic got Jooyoung rolling over to stare at Jangil, her green eyes narrowed while still hugging the heat pack to herself. “Why would people do that?” she asked now, her curiosity winning out against her spiral, “Bubble tea is a drink. You don’t put drinks into pastries. Who in the Nine Hells even comes up with these things?” 

Jangil grinned, leaning back in his armchair. “Folks are weird. I’ve had some really odd food choices, just moving around and exploring,” he admitted, gently tapping Jooyoung on the nose (she squeezed her eyes shut in protest, unable to pull away in her weakened state), “You feeling like eating anything for dinner? I’m thinking Dankyung, you and I could share a huge galbi.” 

“Can’t mix the galbi. You’d have to feed me,” The disinterest seeped back into Jooyoung’s voice again as she looked away, trying to make herself small, “Or you could let me starve. I don’t have an appetite anyway. No point feeding a useless waste of space like myself.” 

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that last bit. You still need to eat a little,” Jangil ran his hand through Jooyoung’s hair, watching her eyes narrow into content slits despite the occasional sniffle still escaping her, “We can eat in bed. Not the first time we’ve done that anyway.” 

The door clicked, and Dankyung returned, carefully shutting it with her foot before making her way towards the bedroom. “I heard galbi so I came back early. Wouldn’t pass it up for the world, really,” she explained, leaning against the doorframe with a slight smile, “I’m famished. Let’s just put a tarp on bed and start the grill going for it.” 

“You don’t have to-” Jooyoung nearly sat up, bumping her head against Jangil’s hand before she winced and sank back into the sheets, “I’m not hungry. You two can just eat at the dining room. We have a bunch of designated eating spots for a reason, don’t dirty the bed we all share. It’s going to smell like galbi.” 

Dankyung raised a brow, defiant. “And leave the bedridden, sick person without cuddles? I thought you said that it was unacceptable the last time I caught a chill in the rain and was running a fever,” she retorted, folding her arms and lifting her head slightly, “Even if we’re not starting a grill, I’m sure Jangil would probably watch the news in bed with the plate in his hand.” 

“Damn right,” Jangil reclined, already picking out the selection while Dankyung put her coat away to start walking over to the bathroom, “Dakgalbi for 3 with a handful of sides, let’s just skip carbs entirely. You all have any vegetables in mind? If not it’s going to be the standard bullshit.” 

Jooyoung watched Dankyung’s hand wave in dismissal before vanishing into the bathroom, scoffing softly to herself. “The usual,” she replied with a slight smile, unable to stay upset at herself with her spouses trying this hard to cheer her up, “I think dakgalbi for 2 would be enough...I won’t be eating much.” 

To that, Jangil scoffed again. “2 servings for me. You and Dankyung can share the rest,” he explained, “I’ll give you 1 bite of everything, and then you can take your meds for an early night. Deal?” 

“Come to think of it, I’m getting hungrier now,” Jooyoung puffed up in defiance as she reached over with her head, before attempting to sink her teeth into Jangil’s thigh, “I can’t turn down a challenge, now I have to get more food in me.”

“Freak,” Jangil teased, trying to slide her off without putting too much of a struggle before gently lifting her by the arm and repositioning her back into her side of the bed, “I hear you! At least you’re back to us again. Welcome back.” He tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear as she crawled into his lap, sighing indulgently. 

[leechangjoons]

Myron was trained her entire life to be the perfect spy, being personable and friendly so that people were more inclined to work with her for information gathering. In all aspects, she was exactly how the other person would want to befriend, and it meant that there were easy inroads to get what she needed before she discarded them and moved on to her next mark. 

Her way of loving people she cared about though? Terribly clumsy and forward, the same way her knees buckled when she stood up too quickly without her cane, and so terribly scattered and muted that it took someone who knew what she was looking for to understand why she did the things she did. She didn’t particularly like claiming credit for matters, preferring her neutral and often nondescript approaches to others, but they knew, for certain that they were loved and thought about, and it was how she operated. 

Even then, she didn’t expect reciprocation. Jangil and Lite took good care of her, and she strived as much as possible to ensure they felt the same way. Love however eventually had been brought up, and a split second decision of just trying things soon blossomed into a quiet romance the three of them partook in whenever possible. So lost in her thoughts that it took a sharp pain in her wrist to draw her out of her memories, and she scowled at Jangil retracting his hands after adjusting the thick, padded gloves she wore, trying to avoid seeming like she had been startled by the sudden rush of (abnormal) pain. 

“It’s not that tight, is it?” she muttered, rubbing her wrists in surprise as she narrowed her eyes to wiggle her fingers (the gloves kept her working braces clean, which really helped), “I know I’m not that messed up, not yet.” 

Jangil leant back, reaching for one of her elbow braces before tugging at her arm. “You need to say something if I put it on too tight or something. I’m not sure if you can’t tell the difference or if you’re just a sucker for this,” he complained, already looping it through her arm to adjust it on her behalf, “For someone who’s almost completely splinted up half the time, you can’t even rate your own issues. May as well stop wearing them.” 

Myron puffed her cheeks up, pulling her arm away from him before wincing in pain at the force, and she was once again grabbed as he carefully braced up her elbow once more. “Every time you help me with this, Jangil, I get 3 spoonfuls of snark per brace. At least if I splint myself up the usual way, I give myself words of self-pity instead of getting random digs tossed my way,” she protested, all while he crawled over the bed to repeat the motion for her other arm, “Romance is war, those picture books you were reading were right.” 

“They’re comics, Jooyoung,” Jangil huffed in exasperation, turning around to look for the other set of braces Myron needed, “And you liked the comics I got you when you were bedridden. I thought you liked Cells at Work! as much as I did.” He primped himself, quickly adjusting her knee braces before bringing her sneakers over, putting on the ankle braces with the same speed. “Comics seems your type of thing anyway. Getting Dankyung to read probably won’t work.”  

“I preferred the other one with magic. The one about warlocks who could use specific curses,” Myron shapeshifted into the likeness of the protagonist, an earnest looking pink-haired teenager with tell-tale scars under his eyes, before she dropped the disguise to her usual self, “More books should discuss magic in this world. It’s so boring when everyone treats it like it’s some sort of weird fantasy bullshit that isn’t governed by anything. Leylines are everywhere, people have magic whether they notice it or not...it’s still wild that this place is so low on magic but insanely high with all your technology.” 

Jangil patted her legs to indicate he was done before stumbling to the bed, allowing Myron to start putting his prosthetic leg on. “Personally, I’d rather magic was actually more prominent here,” he sighed, tilting his head to the side while she worked with the straps to keep the limb in place, “It’d be nice to have a magical answer to just about everything. You always seem to have some sort of spell for the occasion, it almost makes me jealous.” 

“Well, if I was more of a healer, I could even regrow your right leg for you. Magic does answer a lot of our existing problems,” Myron offered, patting Jangil’s leg in response, “It’s a pity I trained primarily in illusions and arcane crafting instead. You seem like you’ve got most things covered, though. Most folks back home don’t adapt as well.” 

Shuffling to the side to put his shoes on, Jangil offered Myron her cane, a motion she accepted with a small nod of gratitude. “The regeneration would be kind of nice, but...I dunno. I’m pretty fine with how I am right now, with or without the leg,” he replied, grinning in her direction, “Figured it’s the same with you.” 

“I’m recovery resistant. Not that magic couldn’t solve it, but the fact that magic caused it is the caveat of that situation,” Myron corrected, offering Jangil her hand to pull him up to a standing position, “So, I ended up leaning into your modern solutions. Keeping myself nice and splinted up so I can move and walk around. If it works, the process doesn’t need fixing.” 

To that, Jangil accepted, but not before pulling Myron closer to himself with little effort. “So, what does the wooden beam want for dinner? We agreed on Swedish food to celebrate Dankyung coming back,” he changed the subject fluidly, “You were high out of your mind on painkillers looking at the menu, though. Wanna see it again?” 

“Hey!” Myron pushed away, quickly smoothening her shirt down with rose-tinted cheeks, “Grabbing me in a hug whenever I offer to help you up? Don’t you ever get tired of that?” 

“Never,” Jangil leant in to leer, before ruffling her hair with a smug smile, “Come shuffle along now. We don’t want to miss the boat arriving at the ferry terminal, and Dankyung gets cranky when she’s hungry.” 

Myron twirled her cane, adjusting its position to accommodate her weight before she tottered in step with Jangil. “She’s always cranky, I don’t think the hunger matters for her,” she retorted, unable to stop the grin on her face as she reached for Jangil’s hand, “When I get hungry though, I like gnawing on the arms of the people I’m hanging out with.” 

“Terrifying. Am I your emergency rations now?” Jangil led her to the car, letting her shuffle inside before he got into the driver’s seat, “I didn’t sign up for that. We agreed only to do that in bed.” 

“Shut up,” Myron bonked Jangil with her cane before retracting it and letting it hang off her wrist, “Horny jail.” 

“You’d have to catch me first,” Jangil turned his nose up, his eyes focused on the road ahead, “Next up, the ferry terminal to pick up the other cranky girlfriend.” 

[leechangjoons]

If you asked Dankyung how she fell in with Jangil and Jooyoung, it wasn’t very likely that she would give a straight answer. 

Jangil, like how he’d crashed into others’ lives, had been travelling in Ganghwa when he’d found her quaint florist shop. They bickered for the longest time, constantly, all while Jangil insisted up and down that he was only here to learn the language of flowers...and then Dankyung had found out afterwards that they were in the same therapy group in the hospital, both being treated for their post-traumatic stress disorders. He had taught her how to play the piano then, and she in turn had educated him on the joys of floral arrangement. 

They both shared a strange push-and-pull, neither of them really committing to anything. Dankyung’s husband had just passed away, leaving her with a pendant that consolidated his power of being Chosen and a wish to pass his legacy to her, something she both feared confronting and remained angry about leaving him behind. Jangil’s volatile mental state meant that committing to him was akin to loving two completely different individuals, and they’d eventually both agreed simply to be friends with benefits, nothing further. 

Unusually, the spanner of the works was Jooyoung. Dankyung had searched for someone else who had been displaced from her world, not long before receiving a tip-off from Jangil about the matter, but when they had tracked her down, Jooyoung had relapsed, and all they found was a whimpering mess of a woman who was unable to take care of herself, lying on the floor of a nursing home’s room while incapacitated by pain. 

Desperate to escape her current predicament, the trio had an agreement to move Jooyoung into an apartment in Pungdo instead while she recovered enough to explain her circumstances, and when Dankyung and Jooyoung both recognised they were mages...Jangil would find that he would never be peaceful again. Of course, their arrangement wasn’t all in Jooyoung’s benefit: Jangil now had a base of operations in Pungdo that wasn’t couchsurfing in an empty house, and Dankyung had somewhere to visit that wasn’t just her store. 

Even then, she eased into Jooyoung drying her hair, her eyes narrowed into content slits like a happy cat. Not many people could touch her without having their faces immediately burnt off, and she’d kept her storm-blue hair cropped short for easy maintenance (enough to cover her blind eyes as well when she hadn’t worn her sunglasses). Learning that Jooyoung too also appreciated such touches meant that one thing led to another, and they’d eventually formed a cohabitation arrangement that involved looking out for each other whenever one relapsed...so here they were, Jooyoung being talkative while she finished rubbing Dankyung’s hair down with a towel. 

“I still find it fascinating that your hair’s just naturally blue. You’re like some sort of protagonist from the circus,” Jooyoung had pointed out, withdrawing her hands from Dankyung’s hair, “Alright, my turn. You know I can’t reach too far above my own head so you have to help me here.” 

“My father’s hair was blue. Most of my siblings ended up with blue hair. It’s a naturally occurring phenomenon...I suspect you asked Professor Akagi the same question. People said he had naturally occurring periwinkle hair,” Dankyung had sighed and felt next to her for the towel, already beginning to work on Jooyoung’s hair (so fluffy, Dankyung had commented, like a massive dandelion), “Hold still. I don’t want to give you bald patches.” 

“Yeah, but he had blue hair after he started planeshifting,” Jooyoung lifted a hand and Dankyung flinched away at her fingers brushing against her chin, “He used to have black hair like a normal person, I read up on Naver before robbing him. Then he went full mad artificer, so here we are. Do you think he even knows he has blue hair? I wonder if anyone’s told him.” 

Dankyung had methodically dried her girlfriend’s hair down with a sigh, bundling the towel up before placing it back on Jooyoung’s head. “Probably his husband. I’ve forgotten I had blue hair, in truth. It always seemed to be a non-issue because it was closer to black anyway,” she had commented, leaning back and propping her arms up behind her while extending her legs out, “What color is your hair, then? You seemed fascinated by mine.” 

“Black. Didn’t get fancy even when I was human before,” Jooyoung had undone the towel and began rubbing her own hair again, a light shuffle indicated she’d adjusted her posture to sit more comfortably, “I do have green eyes though, which is probably unusual. Surprised nobody asked though, I think they just found it impolite, or assumed I was mixed. Doesn’t matter, though. Nothing a little bit of minor editing won’t fix.”

“It never fails to baffle me that you never got caught. You don’t even conceal using your magic,” Dankyung huffed, draping her own towel around her neck, “You really like toying with the fact that people just don’t believe it exists, no? It’s almost brazen.” 

Jooyoung hummed from her position, a quirk she had while refusing to answer questions directly. “It’s kind of my thing. I can change my appearance, go invisible, make duplicates of myself or other things, the list goes on...if people refuse to acknowledge there’s more that meets the eye, it’s not my responsibility to hold their hand about it. Besides, you selling water-breathing potions as “tonics” to the diver woman would also be deception, won’t it? Pot calling the kettle black here, really.” 

“Was sick of people drowning off the coast,” Dankyung stretched from her spot, “Nothing a self-sacrifical martyr like you would understand.” 

“Love you too,” Jooyoung’s reply was instinctual, before Dankyung could hear her characteristic shuffle of trying to get off the ground, “...oof. Joints hurty. A little help, please?” 

“Maybe,” Dankyung had easily gotten on her feet before plucking Jooyoung off the ground almost effortlessly (and had heard the other woman wince in pain at the motion), “Need me to put you in bed?” 

“No, I can walk,” came Jooyoung’s strained response, though Dankyung sensed the pressure on her arms being heavier than usual, “I need to get to my desk.” 

Dankyung had began pushing Jooyoung in the opposite direction towards her bed, overpowering the other as Jooyoung began to protest. “Unni, please, I need to finish this-- oof,” she had been cut off after falling into her bed, Dankyung falling onto her before she stood back up, letting the other woman lie there, “Could you at least bring me my laptop if you’re making me rest?” 

“That I can do,” Dankyung had offered Jooyoung one of her cushions, feeling the other rummage around herself to prop up all her aching limbs, “You and your cyclic need for bedrest. If you just took my advice and stayed in bed when you felt a flare-up, we won’t be here.” 

“You sound like my sister,” Jooyoung sniffed, feigning hurt, “I hate this fucking family. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to live with you two.” 

“Of course,” Dankyung had felt for another cushion to slap Jooyoung with, a motion swiftly parried by her, “Stay here while I get your laptop.” 

[leechangjoons]

Portrait commission for Tadpoletalks on twitter of their OC Changjoon

Thanks so much for commissioning me! Always fun to paint older men, never have enough of characters in that age. 

[leechangjoons]

Self care is getting more of your own iteration of Changjoon lol 

Artworks by bridlett, FEVER_FICTION and @yorugami!