#who taught alexios to read?!

[findusinaweek]

Having ac odyssey again is making me a more insane person. Who could have guessed it?

[kaisooficpodcast]

Author's Session with Haqiyin Part 1

I am Alexio Sospranio, and you’re listening to the kaisoo fic podcast.

For new listeners, the kaisoo fic podcast is a space where we discuss literature found in the kaisoo world. Where we have authors on the show to give them a platform to talk about their writings and journey as an author in the fandom. 

Dear kaisoo listener, do get ready for a ride because it’s a special episode with a long qna with our author of the day. Just a brief rundown of what will happen in this episode. This episode is a two part episode. First part is today, dated the 12th, second part will be on the 14th. Special kaisoo dates!

Today on the 12th is the first part where we will discuss the defining fics from the author of the day, followed by questions to get to know the author a bit more in terms of her writer’s journey. The second part, on the 14th we will be going through the three ‘i’s. What are the 3 ‘i’s? The 3 ‘i’s are Inspiration, Influence and Impact. Author’s inspiration for ideas, having others as influence for their direction and the author’s impact on the kaisoo fic community.

If you, dear listener, have been up to date with the podcast episodes, you will find that there will be similar questions to other author’s sessions. Each author brings in their own different perspectives and experiences. By asking similar questions, we get to see how diverse yet united kaisoo fic writers are. 

Joining me to do all that is author and artist haqiyin.

Haqiyin has been in this fandom since 2013 Growl era, that’s about 11 years. The pull factor that got her into this fandom was Chanyeol & Chen in EXO Showtime when she was 14 and in Secondary School. Haqiyin is currently into kaisoo and Hogwarts Legacy, the video game. Started writing kaisoo in April 2022 after reading kaisoo fanfics and sns aus on twitter earlier that year. Her works on ao3 amount to 39 fics and counting, and 29 for EXO.

Defining Fic 

Hello there haqiyin! 

Could you maybe start us off, what is that one or two fics that are completely yours and something that holds great significance to you? 

My Dear is a classic of mine that I loved writing. So is Noise, which is where I pour all of my Kaisoo fantasies into it. What makes it lovable for me is that it’s a Female pairing! And another one is Swap because I’ve been told by a few of my readers that fic was what defined me as one of the new Kaisoo smut-writers at the time. 

I see, so ‘my dear’ is a classic of yours, ‘noise’ is something that you could dive into your fantasies and ‘swap’ is an acclaimed fic by your readers.

We’ll have an episode just for ‘my dear’ by itself because I think that fic is very important to you, so we need to give the fic its due recognition. So for this segment for today’s episode, we will look at ‘noise’ and ‘swap’.

So we have two fics, let’s talk about ‘noise’ first.

Could you give us a sense of what ‘noise’ is for those who are not familiar?

Noise is basically a F/F relationship that is based on roommates to lovers, college romance, mixed in with a few kinks and sexual plot such as exhibitionism. 

The premise of ‘noise’ is uncommon, but not unheard of. But do share with us how it came about?

I just wanted to write an exhibitionism plot but I was also thinking of a F/F pairing for some reason. It turned out to be a “and they were roommates” plot with a little sprinkle of exhibitionism in it. I wanted it to be a one-shot, smutty and dirty plot but I got caught up with emotions writing about roommates to lovers, thus Noise was created. It was supposed to be dirty like my fic ‘No Reason’, but it wrote it fluffy sweet and spicy romantic instead. 

No Reason… yea the biggest part of that fic is the exhibitionism. Actually the thing that No Reason taught me was what exhibitionism is all about? And like being in a relationship where you are free to explore and indulge in your kinks in a safe way, without scarring anyone.

Yea but for noise as well… Kyungsoo did not at all shy away at the exhibitionism part where they were in Jongin’s home.

A question: why do you consider this fic to be one of the two fics you were emotionally attached to?

It was my first time ever writing a F/F pairing. It was experimental to me in the sense that I’m writing about their relationship and how they interact. I loved writing about their emotions because by then I was mostly writing smut and oneshots, with not much depth about relationship development, so it was a first dive for me when I was writing this fic. And also! There’s a lack of Kaisoo F/F fics out there so I thought it’d be good for me to contribute to the community. 

Contributing to the community you are indeed! And you did a great job in the dynamics between clingy Jongin and horny Kyungsoo.

And recently in mid March you did a 20 day calendar of fem!kaisoo oneshot series, covering things like tribbing and more. I’m too shy to say aloud, but I thank you for that, one for the girlies I see.

So that was haqiyin’s ‘noise’, one of two of her fics she was emotionally attached to. The other fic ‘my dear’, we will have a special episode for that fic, because I believe it deserves its own episode. So the next fic for this segment will be looking at ‘swap’ an acclaimed fic by your readers. Swap is part of the X-EXO series.

Could you give us a sense of what ‘swap’ is for those who are not familiar?

Swap is basically a smut fic that plays with X-EXO concept, that being X-EXO Kaisoo swapped partner with Earthling Kaisoo, it’s a 3 part oneshot, part 1 is X-EXO Kai with Kyungsoo, part 2 X-EXO D.O with Jongin and lastly part 3 is Kyungsoo and Jongin. 

The premise of ‘swap’ is very interesting. It involves clones and that is actually quite genius of you in doing that. Could you give us a bit of background of what inspired you from real life exo to have this x-exo au?

I was obsessed with EXO’s Obsession comeback and album, it was mostly inspired from Kai’s X-EXO photoshoot. I just needed to write one fic with him featured in, and that’s how Swap was created. Photoshoots and concepts really play a big part in my inspiration because I refer to pictures and events and content to be able to write and be inspired. 

Like as you mentioned, we do have x-exo that was explored with the obsession promotions back in 2019. And in a way it is canon? The most admirable thing for me here is how you use what you are given as a fan and develop it further in your own craft. Pity we don’t have a proper x-exo version of D.O. but hey at least we have Monster D.O. back in 2016! but wow that was a long time ago… and oh myyy taking about photoshoots and concept pictures… the x-exo posters were definitely intriguing, and it helps us visualise the description of X-KAI and Monster D.O.

How did your creative energy come about to conjure up this AU? 

My creative energy when coming up with such AUs mostly comes from my need to read the premise. Like, I really wanted to see a fic that holds this X-EXO clones smut with humans Kaisoo and I have searched a few, I can’t remember if I ever found one but I decided to write one instead, because I wanted a specific scene/outcome from that AU. 

And what were those specific scenes?

Guilty pleasure / forbidden lust towards another version of their partner. 

“I bet Jongin was gentle with you, huh? Never felt such roughness like this.” 

“You’re begging? That’s a first.” 

“My mate never begs first. I always have to make him beg.” 

You decided to write forbidden lust towards another version of their partner because you wanted to see a specific scene/outcome from this clones AU. That is quite motivational. How you saw a gap in the kaisoo literature and you took that opportunity to write what you wanted to see. And it’s been received very well by readers!

I’m curious as to what about this fic stands out to you?

Personally, speaking as a smut writer, it’s the sex part of course. So I was mainly motivated to write how X-EXO Kai would talk to human Kyungsoo in comparison to how human Jongin would. 

X-EXO Kai is quite rough with human Kyungsoo. And for those who enjoy reading mild BDSM would enjoy this and others fics of yours for example No Reason or Leash even. 

Readers who have read both ‘noise’ and ‘swap’ will find that you, haqiyin, really have a knack for fresh perspectives. Just by looking at the premise, it is definitely very eye catching because we get to explore kaisoo through a different lens. With ‘noise’ we have fem!kaisoo, so kaisoo as females. And then we have ‘swap’, where we explore kaisoo with their clones. 

We have reached the end of our very first segment for this very long episode. 

Getting to know Haqiyin 

The second segment we have today is getting to know the author of the day. 

Now, haqiyin, I’ve always been so curious about this: on twitter, we all know you as a writer. But what do you tell the people who know you in real life? Do you tell them that you are a writer? How supportive are they and do you ever feel like you have to hide or be sneaky about it, especially if you are already in the zone of writing? 

Oh I don’t tell anyone anything in my personal life. They do know I draw and sketch as a side hobby/income and work as a designer at a company, they know I am very fluent in English because I read novels and books (Harry Potter, Vampire books) and they are very well aware that I am good with writing (thesis, reports, documentations) but they don’t know that I write fanfictions. 

I don’t want them to know actually because I’m very private, I don’t talk about my skills to them, I show them. Those with sharp eyes may connect the dots and see how I can be a fanfic writer but so far no one has said anything to me. I like to have my writing and fandom community to be separate from my real life/community, because I want to have options that I can escape to.

That is a very modest and admirable way of doing things. You don’t talk about your skills, you show them. 

So a designer at a company, I see. So you’re more on the visual arts scene then? 

My background is very artsy. I draw, sketch, paint, write, and design. I am very much a creative person in real life. 

How young were you when you realised you liked to surround yourself with visual creativity? 

Very young! Since I was in kindergarten I suppose. I would always doodle whenever I could and I remember bringing pencils and papers everywhere with me. My parents told me it’s a family trait, because I have two aunts and uncles on each side of the family that are known to draw and paint. Even my oldest brother is good at drawing, but he didn’t have passion for it so he didn’t pursue it. 

Aw, i can imagine a small little haqiyin bringing around here pencils and papers around to functions and finding a small little corner to do her drawings. So cute!

I note that at a young age is when everyone starts, but it is just a matter of if that hobby sticks with you long enough, and if you dive deep into it to hone your craft in the way where you carefully develop it over a long period of time.

How does engaging in drawing and writing complement each other? 

It goes hand in hand to me, I have liked drawing since I was a child and reading fantasy Vampire novels certainly helped my desire to write. I’ve always been good at drawing in real life and people know that of me, but I wanted to show my writing skills as well. But I can’t show my fanfic writings to people that know me, I’ll die hahaha, so I turn to the KPOP community to gain support and show my skills in writing. 

Haha, of course, I understand. It’s like a dirty little secret. Your writings and some of your drawings are not meant for everyone. Those who engage in fanfiction in any way, be it reading or writing or beta-ing or even for me, podcasting, from the nature of it, not everyone should know about it. 

The thing is that it is a very niche community. Not everyone can resonate with the KPOP sentiment. And even more so the EXO-L fanbase, there is EXO-L vs other group fanbases and EXO-L vs EXO-L. So that by itself is very polarising. And to go even further, as we all here for, ladies and gays, is the shipping. Some people push for it, some people are really adverse to it. And even with shipping there are different relationships people like to play with.  So with each element of the general entertainment you consume, the community actually gets smaller. 

Are there some other communities that you engage in? You mentioned Hogwarts Legacy Video Game, how is the community there like?

There’s a lot, but I’m only a writer for Kaisoo (EXO), Ontae (SHINee) and Sebinis (Hogwarts Legacy), the rest is either I’m just a casual fanartist or a fanfic reader. Fandoms I’ve been in were Drarry (HP), Evak (SKAM), Reddie (IT), HaoGu (MOCD) Taiwanese BL, Wilmon (Young Royals) and DeanPharm (UWMA) Thai BL. I’ve drawn quite a lot on my instagram @ taeeeman, you can check all the pairings I’ve drawn there.

Hogwarts Legacy Video Game was a fixation that completely blew me away because I didn’t expect to love the game so much and even the characters, and the community there is hella talented, so many great fanartists, god-like even, pasta-sensei i love you. Anyways, the community is warm and I enjoy the fandom and the game with my IRL friends. I’m inactive now over there and even have a fic of Sebinis that I didn’t finish, but I’m sure I’ll get back into them once Avalanche makes the exclusive horror quest available on all devices. 

Aww, so sweet that you are able to enjoy something different, and with your real life friends as well! 

But maybe let me rephrase my previous question a bit? I’m trying to see how drawing and writing work together. For instance you spend more of your work life being visually creative, how does that help or guide your writing in any way? Or how does writing help you to be visually creative? How does that relationship work?

In terms of looking for ideas, I’d say it works for both. When I see something I like online and read a little about it, I would either find a way to draw it or write about it. It entirely depends on the content and what it is for me to feel strongly to write it or draw it. Both have a hand in helping me in some ways but I’d say I’m more to visualising something in my head before going forth with creating anything. But it is intertwined in some ways, I can’t explain it perfectly haha.

But okay, let’s go back to the questions! We were talking about how haqiyin shows her skills, how she finds drawing and writing complementing each other. 

My next question is: How long have you been writing? Have you always been writing and how did you come out of the hiccups along the way?

Actually I’ve been writing since I was senior in high school, so like 2016? I wrote for a SHINee pairing, Onew and Taemin. At the time I was very much into JongKey and OnTae, so I tried writing about OnTae. I posted on AsianFanFiction, and it didn’t go well. I then created a new identity (@taeeeman) on that site, and started posting regularly starting 2019 I think. I had a good following and readers from SHINee and OnTae fans, they were super supportive. I made so many memories at the time interacting with them. 

When the pandemic hit, I went into a depressive state, I said my goodbyes and deleted my fics on AFF. I wasn’t really thinking back then, it was the pandemic. Unfortunately I didn’t save my fics and it is all gone now, I tried looking for it in my files and stuff but I really deleted all of it.

At the end of 2021 I wanted to bounce back as a writer, but I felt guilty for abandoning OnTae ship. So I turned to EXO, which is another group beside SHINee that I loved since school days. Kaisoo had always been a thing since I read OnTae, JongKeys and ChanBaek fics, so I decided to give their fics a go. I binged and read their fics on AO3 and was hooked from then on. 

Oh myyy, and we mourn for the loss of taeeeman’s fics. The pandemic was really a bad time for everyone huh… but WOW, writing since high school, 2016… 8 years of writing… and writing during your adolescence… writing must have been very cathartic for you. Seeing how you engaged in it from your teens to your early/mid 20s. 

As someone who has written for ontae, do you see any similarities in them with kaisoo in terms of your own plot and style?

I’ve written for Ontae similarly in the beginning like my earlier Kaisoo fics. ‘Our Dandelion’ is my first ever Kaisoo fic that I’ve written and I can say the style and pacing is similar to what I’ve written for Ontae before. 

I’ve written a lot for Ontae previously and honestly, most of them are smut. Just like Kaisoo, but I can say for sure that the style is different because I’ve changed the way I write after certain changes and maturity (going from diploma to degree) and even the topics or plot are different. For example, I didn’t write much of a dramatic plot or gut-wrenching scenes for Kaisoo but I’ve written those for Ontae. 

Of course, with your years of experience, you are bound to always be improving. 

How much have you grown since writing on AFF to ao3?

I would say there’s a difference to my writing style in AFF to AO3, mainly because of the audience and how receptive the readers are on each platform. In AFF I’d say that I write because I love the reader’s reaction and are more catered to their requests, etc. But on AO3, I mostly write on stuff that I like and want to read. I am more structured and organised when I’m on AO3, because it’s easy with the taggings and such. I entertain requests and prompts on a few occasions and most of them are written for a fic fest or oneshot compilation. I’m more mature in terms of plot-writing on AO3 too, I join writing fest and challenges, engage with the community. I can’t say the same when I was on AFF. 

With all those years, how do you balance between having a social life, a busy work schedule and still being able to make time to research and write captivating stories? Still able to make time to sketch and draw beautiful compositions of kaisoo. What keeps you going as a writer and an artist? I mean everyone is given 24 hours a day, so how do you delegate time for research and writing and drawing amidst everything else?

It’s a bit different then and now. I was a full-time student from 2017 until 2022, so I had ample time to write and explore ideas with writings and engage within the fandom. I read and enjoyed Kaisoo contents more leisurely when I was a student. My schedule would be very flexible and I’ll write and post whenever I feel like it and when the passion for writing comes. 

In 2023 I started my internship and then developed into a full-time employee, so I had less time than usual to write and engage with fandoms. I continue to write even with my limited time as a working adult because I simply liked writing it. 

How I divide my time now is; I’d find inspiration/au from observing social media (tiktok/twitter/ig) during the day, writing it on my notes app and at night when I usually write. On weekdays, I’ll write before 12-1am. On weekends, I’ll write until I finish. 

As for drawing, I don’t take much time doing it so I’ll usually draw whenever I have the time and post it immediately afterwards.

That’s very diligent of you, identifying what you want to see in your work, then taking notes, then parking it. Then when you have the time you use that time to write and draw. Like you have a whole catalogue of ideas. You must really like what you do, because that whole process really shows that you take pride and ownership of your work. I’d imagine in doing all these, it boosts your self confidence because you are able to explore a lot of things and refine your skills at both writing and drawing. 

We have come to the end of ‘getting to know’ haqiyin a bit more. We see that haqiyin is a private person, who has been writing and drawing for a very long time and happily finds that drawing and writing comes hand in hand, complementing each other. Haqiyin diligently takes notes before writing or drawing out her ideas.

So this is the end of the first of two part episode. Second part will be uploaded on the 14th! 

[flyingsassysaddles]

The Battle of Navarino Bay

“The Greek Revolution needs a miracle,” an old woman sighed, picking out her vegetables and putting them in a bag, her shawl coming loose and fluttering in the wind. She turned back to the Greek man who had helped her pick up her stuff before she dragged him over to the marketplace, because after all, she had said, you're such a nice strong man, and I can’t carry these home myself! The Greek didn’t mind though, and helped pick up her bought food and bring her to her home.

“The Ottomans have made such big steps! We’re holding onto the skin of our teeth here! Nikos, bless his heart, says I shouldn’t worry about it, that the revolution will be back on its feet in no time, but I still do. I’ve been around a long time, and this the biggest revolution I’VE seen,” she rambled, guiding the man to the steps of her house, before finally stopping. The man almost dropped dead in exhaustion. Apparently, the old woman hadn’t been exaggerating when she said she lived on the far side of the sea town.

“I am so sorry! I dragged you all the way up here and I don’t even know your name!” the old woman realized, taking his hands and patting them with a severe grandmother look on her face.

The Greek man was at a loss, shuffling and looking at the ground. “Er, that’s okay ma'am, just trying to be a good person.”

“Nonsense! Tell me your name. I must know who to thank for helping me! ”

“My name is Heracles, ma’am.”

“Heracles. Oh, I know a man who has a nephew named Heracles! What’s your last name good boy?”

Again the man was at a lost, stuttering and looking at the ground, and the food, before saying the first thing that came into his head.

“Um, Karpusi.”

“Karpusi? Your last name is Watermelon?”

Heracles looked up from the watermelon that had inspired this brilliant idea and came up with a foolproof plan on why he was named after a fruit.

“Er, my father was a watermelon farmer.” The old woman tutted and gave a sympathetic look, patting his hands once more.

“You poor boy. You must have been bullied so much when you were a child. Though once I knew a man called Alexios Psari. Imagine that! Your last name being Fish! Thank you so much Mr. Watermelon, I’ll make sure to pray for you on Sunday,” she chirped, before patting Heracles on the cheek and preparing to go up the stone stairs to her house above the bakery.

“It was no problem, ma’am. Have a nice day!” The man shouted back at the rapidly retreating woman, going down the hill and to the sea, after a couple of tight turns of course. Pylos really was a beautiful city, even if it was sparsely populated, thought the Greek, passing the tavern he was staying at and following the road, up another hill, to the sea.

Unfortunately, Heracles wasn’t here to sightsee, as was made clear when instead of going straight towards the narrow and rocky beach the sea town boasted, he went to the shipyard, where he had a full view of the mighty galleons and mile high ships that floated blissfully on the other side of the bay. There were so many of them sitting in the water that it almost looked like the ocean had given up and let trees grow on its soil once more. The flags of the ships fluttered and strained in the sea breeze, turning the leaves of the sea forest into an orchard of red, white, and blue. The three flags of the bay looked similar, with the same main colors, but after that, the difference between the 3 national fleets stopped there.

The British ships in Navarino Bay glowed brilliantly, outdoing the other 2 in sheer size and number. Though Heracles knew that they weren’t the true best that Britain could conjure, the gloating ships were pretty close. After all, the more to intimidate the Ottomans into doing what they wanted.

The French ships were much less impressive by international standards, but to the humble Greek people of Pylos, they were still in a league of their own. However, if you squinted past the glare of the well-oiled masts and bows, you could see the faint bruises of wars already lost and an almost shameful way in which they carried themselves, wincing away from the gloating British ships. Heracles had heard of the Napoleon Wars of course, and he knew the French were desperate to prove that they were still relevant by butting into international affairs.

The Russian ships were muttering about the glamour and fashion the other ships were boasting, rocking their own hulls in the water with simple compliance, not bothering with the wasteful banter the other fleets filled the bay with. They were simple machines, they sighed, made to do what the ropes pulled them to do or fly where the wind commanded them to go. They were still amazing, the ships smiled, but why waste something on glamour?

A lump gathered in Heracles's throat as he gazed at the smiling Russian ships that were simply happy to be in warm waters. He had asked his Orthodox brother for help when the revolution first started, only to be refused once more. “Aren’t we the same?” Greece had argued, “are we not of the same religion, brother, are we not simply Christians trying to fight off our enemies? Was I not the one who gave you the gift of Christianity? Was I not the one who gave you the foundations for your language? Was I not the author of the poems and the philosophies you know so well? I know you helped Serbia, I know you will help Bulgaria, for you are both Slavs of the same blood, but am I not the one who taught you what that meant? If I am the one who did this, if I am the one who gave you the religion you now hold onto so dearly, if I am the one who taught you to write and to learn and to read and to believe that there was more to life than what we see, why won’t you help me brother? Why won’t you send the ships and the soldiers and the weapons I need to be free? Why won’t you help me escape a heretic’s grasp and be among my own people as a true nation once more? If I helped you with what you desperately, unknowingly needed in the past, why won’t you help me with what I need today, orthodox brother?”

“I cannot,”  the Russian had responded. “Because I cannot afford to send my soldiers, my ships, or my weapons. I cannot afford to send you money that I desperately need here at home.  I cannot show support to a rebellion against an empire I need for trade. I cannot supply a revolution that might be doomed to fail. I cannot waste my resources. I’m sorry Heracles, but I cannot help you.”

Clearly, though, the Russian could afford to send ships to batter the Ottoman Empire rather than helping a rebellion that might be Heracles's last. The Greek could sense the gut feeling in his bones, and the deepest recess of his mind. It was the same gut feeling that crept into his bones as Constantinople burned around him, and he prayed in the Hagia Sophia with the claws of dread hanging from the tears in his heart. It was the same feeling that dripped from his bloody body as the Ottoman Empire killed him once and for all, thrusting his sword into the Greek’s burning heart, and leaving him dead on the mosaic floor of the sacred church. And it was the final thought in his disappearing mind as he faded from existence, only to be the very first remnant he received after his reincarnation, after he was born as a child once more and with no memory. It was the first thing he remembered from his Byzantine days, the first thing he hated the Ottoman for, the first thing he screamed at the man when his killer asked him why he hated him so viciously. It was the feeling of death. Not the quick, sudden death a rabbit screams when its neck is snapped, or the desperate clawed death that dragged you down farther into the water as you tried to fly away. It was the stalking, aging, steady death that followed every creature, only showing itself when the being had fought off all other challengers, creeping onto the victim when it was worn and old, and didn’t have the strength to fight back. It was the type of death that showed its face rarely to the beings of the living world, only to the ones that boasted a long life, smiling and dragging them down into the darkness of death so slowly that the victim never even noticed what death was doing to them.

This was the emotion that sank into Heracles now, along with the dread that often followed. He knew this emotion, the gut feeling, and he knew, in the darkest corners of his cavernous mind, that this death would claim him if he didn’t succeed in his fight, in his endless struggle to escape the vacuum of the Ottoman Empire. He would die, this time with no hope of survival or rebirth if he failed.

This is why he had begged Russia to help him, crossed the ocean to America to receive a few measly ships, appealed to his other sucked in captives of the vacuum who might disappear as well. Regardless of what the Ottoman might think, he didn’t want to die. He had escaped that death before, but he knew, the same way he knew that his heart would beat and his lungs would breathe, that he would not escape again.

CRACK! A gunshot shattered the air, and Heracles snapped out of his inner thoughts to see a boat between the Ottoman’s and the European fleets hosting a dead man and a group of startled diplomats. Now that's odd.

 ---

Britain gaped as the newly dead man bled over his shoes, eyes rolled back and body limp. France became a white sheet of shock, and the Russian man besides them dropped his always present smile in favor of a light frown at the sight of the inconveniently dead translator. The gun smoke still curled in the air from the blank-faced Egyptian man, who looked coldly at the corpse and spoke a few words in Greek.

“I think we are done here.”  The party of diplomats stared in confusion before Russia remembered that his fellow nations couldn’t understand Greek.

“He said: ‘I think we are done here,’” Russia explained in French, mostly to see the Englishman irritated at having to translate it to English for the rest of his crew. The Egyptian looked Ivan Braginsky with raised eyebrows, still addressing him in the tongue of the land they were in.

“You speak Greek?”

“Da. That means yes,” Russia hurried.

“Huh. Even the barbarians are learning your language Heracles. Told you they haven’t forgotten,” Gupta muttered in Ancient Greek this time before being interrupted by a chuckling Russia.

“I wouldn’t call myself a barbarian.”

“Oi! What the bloody hell are you two talking about?” the British Empire commanded, eyes rapidly switching from one startled man to another.

“Nothing of your concern, Arthur,” Ivan responded, nearly rolling his eyes. “Now Gupta, you must understand that this,” he pointed to the dead man between them, “Is not acceptable behavior.”

“Perhaps. But it is an answer,” Gupta replied, speaking in French to the frustration of the British Empire.

“And what might that be?”

“That the Ottoman Empire sees your terms as unfit.”

“Why doesn't he come out and tell us then,” muttered France, before being jabbed in the rib by Arthur.

“The Ottoman Empire has refused our terms?” Russia docked his head to the side and then pointed at the forest of ships behind him. “Do you think you are in a position to refuse?”

“It is an answer.”

“Alright,” the British man interrupted, in English this time. “This is going nowhere. How about we discuss these proceeding again tomorrow, with a new, er, translator. Thank you so much for that by the way.”

“I no like your terms. I shoot. Is simple,” Gupta waved, getting onto his own boat with his crew and preparing to go out to sea.

“So you DO know English!”

“Of course. You think me a barbarian?” The Ottoman delegation was soon gone, leaving behind a very angry England, a confused France, and a chuckling Russia.

“I think that meeting went well,” Russia remarked.

“You THINK?! There’s a DEAD translator on this boat and we haven’t made any progress at all! God I can’t wait to leave this blasted land. There’s a cruise in India with my name on it after this,” Arthur grumbled, walking away to go to his own ship.

“Isn’t putting your name on things the only things you do as a great power?”

“OH! Angleterre, he got you good!”

“Leave me alone DAMN IT!”

__

Arthur Kirkland scowled at the map before him, looking around the world on a sheet of paper and ticking off things that needed to be done, places that needed to be explored, etc, etc. God his job as an empire never ended, he muttered internally, as he crossed out tiny places around the map, pen hovering over North America before crossing out the large territory in the north. The ship rocked from east to west, groaning and complaining over the burden of the ship and muttering curses that it could never stop rocking. Arthur almost threw the map onto the ground in frustration, when he looked at the small, million island territory of Greece.

He remembered Rome teaching him of the place that he now rocked in, the million islands, the heaven blue skies. One might have thought he was in love with the place, though it was a pity that he never met the mother of such a land. Really, the only reason he was in this blasted bay was to pressure that STUPID Ottoman to stop being distracted by what must be the millionth rebellion against him and start being more cooperative with trading! It wasn't that hard! Just do whatever he wanted, and everything would work itself out. Not everyone could be reasonable though, as was shown by the day’s diplomatic meeting, where the translator was shot in the head by that silent puppet of the masked man.

That was one other thing ruined by this revolution, the fact that instead of a calm, agreeable Heracles being on the other side of the negotiating table, they had to deal with that judging mute! He remembered back in the day that Heracles was the only man you could talk to if you wanted direct access to that smug Turk, and then the poor Greek had to sit there and translate everything he said. He once asked why Heracles did this, and Heracles said, and he quoted, “Because that smug Turk bastard doesn't like learning new languages and thinks that he's so much better than all of you that he refuses to learn your language and instead using his territories like parrots to stroke his ego.” He always liked that man.

Pity that he would have to remain a territory though. The British couldn't afford to help such a failing rebellion, especially if it destroyed the balance of power in Europe. One of the Great Powers would get control over the country if it ever succeeded, and Arthur really did not want to see another one of those BLASTED smug smiles from Russia. And France, well, the Napoleon Wars proved he could be fierce when challenged.

The only way he would ever help this rebellion, he chuckled to himself, is if the Ottomans declared war. But what are the odds that something that stupid would happen?

BOOM! The ship shuddered, and muffled screaming could be heard above deck. Arthur knew that sound. He knew it from decades at sea, from the long months he spent alone on the blue waves, from the times he would storm into a golden ship and pillage the wealth for his own. That sound was the sound of cannon fire.

Arthur flew up the stairs and onto the deck, only to find the crew in a state of total confusion. Mutters and panicked cries sat behind him as Arthur looked for the source of the cannon. Surely it couldn't be the Russians, with their humble ships that were now whispering in the bay, or the French, with the bruised galleons sitting innocently on their left. No, it had to be someone else.

There. The Ottomans. A single wisp of smoke curled from a metal stump in the distance and the crew could be found in disarray on the other side. Arthur couldn’t believe it. The Ottomans had fired on British ships.

“Sir!” A young sailor said, snapping to attention, “The Ottomans has fired upon our fleet. What is your response?”

His response? He looked around the bay to the audience of ships waiting for the battle. He looked at the thousands upon thousands of cannons and weapons they had brought to intimidate the Ottomans. He looked at the French and the Russian who waited in shocked silence to see what the mighty British Empire would do when attacked by a foreign power. Finally, he looked at the Ottoman fleet, with a single ship still sighing out a deadly smoke. The world balanced on a pin as the British empire decided whether to shoot back or let the attack on his own ships slide.

“Sir?”

“Rain down hell.”

____

The tavern walls shuddered, startling a tired man and dragging him back into the realm of the living.

“W-what-” Heracles muttered before the world rumbled once again, and the patrons below him whispered muffled cries. He raced to put on his clothes and his left shoe that never really seemed to stay on, and a few seconds later he burst out of the small tavern he was staying at to then have the sight of a mob of people greet him as they stared and muttered in shock.

Then someone said, “It’s coming from the beach!” and the people of Pylos swarmed towards the sea, tripping and trampling each other to see the source of the rumbling earthquake. Heracles ran in the front of the pack, the first one to greet the glorious sight of the bay that was golden with fire.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” breathed a woman next to him, and Heracles couldn’t agree more. The bay was on fire. What seemed like hundreds of ships burned in the dark bay, as the Great Powers shot their rifles at the sinking ships and annihilate the fleet that screamed in the water. It wasn’t a battle. It was a massacre. The ships roared in fury, drawing their bows and shaking the earth with their thunder. The ships gutted the Ottoman fleet in righteous fury, making the cavernous bay, one of the deepest in the world, house the souls of the screaming condemned. The European fleets received a few chinks in their armor, a Russian ship here, a French ship there, but no amount of cuts or bruises would stop the onslaught as the execution continued. More and more ships fell, leaving a gaping hole where they once glowed bright, and Heracles felt something tug onto the edges of his mind, the same tug he felt so long ago as the world burned around him. It was the tug of destiny changing the fates of thousands, of millions, of all of his people, with a simple action. The world was changing. His fate was changing. As the Great Powers went to war against the Ottomans, slaughtering their men, drowning their ships, the hope grinned on the Greek for the first time in months, the first time since he dragged himself to the sea town to see the international exchange, waiting for something, anything, to happen as he sat in the tavern, waiting and waiting for the tug of fate. Heracles, no, Greece, felt the hope blossom and grow as he watched the war unfold before his eyes, now with three more nations on his side.

The Greek Revolution had its miracle.              

[alda-rana]

Assassin’s Creed Odyssey, part 6: back to Athens

- Before I left Argolis, I still had to take time to go visit the ruins of Mycenae, even though there was nothing much to do there except retrieve some Ancient Tablets (I hope Alexios can read Linear B). To my disappointment, Mycenae in the game doesn’t really look much like the real place, but to be honest, I’m not sure what it was like before Schliemann dug it up in the 19th Century.

- On the other hand, the tomb of Agamemnon was just where I expected it to be (didn’t even have to look at the map to find it!) and very accurate to the real one... even though the real one WOULD have been full of treasures before Schliemann came. No comment on the secret snake-filled corridors hidden under it. I never knew Mycenaeans were so fond of spike traps...

- So, back to Athens in the middle of a plague. A harrowing time indeed; here’s what Thucydides writes about it:

The nature of the disease was beyond description, and the sufferings that it brought to each victim were greater than human nature can bear. [...] Some victims were neglected and died; others died despite a great deal of care. There was not a single remedy, you might say, which ought to be applied to give relief, for what helped one sufferer harmed another. No kind of constitution, whether strong or weak, proved sufficient against the plague, but it killed off all, whatever regime was used to care for them. The most terrifying aspect of the whole affliction was the despair which resulted when someone realized that he had the disease: people immediately lost hope, and so through their attitude of mind were much more likely to let themselves go and not hold out. In addition, one person caught the disease through caring for another, and so they died like sheep: this was the greatest cause of loss of life. If people were afraid and unwilling to go near to others, they died in isolation, and many houses lost all their occupants through the lack of anyone to care for them. Those who did go near to others died, especially those with any claim to virtue, who from a sense of honor did not spare themselves in going to visit their friends, persisting when in the end even the members of the family were overcome by the scale of the disaster and gave up their dirges for the dead. [...] In other respects, too, the plague marked the beginning of a decline to greater lawlessness in the city. People were more willing to dare to do things which they would not previously have admitted to enjoying, when they saw the sudden changes of fortune, as some who were prosperous suddenly died, and their property was immediately acquired by others who had previously been destitute. So they thought it reasonable to concentrate on immediate profit and pleasure, believing that their bodies and their possessions alike would be short-lived. No one was willing to persevere in struggling for what was considered an honorable result, since he could not be sure that he would not perish before he achieved it. What was pleasant in the short term, and what was in any way conducive to that, came to be accepted as honorable and useful. No fear of the gods or law of men had any restraining power, since it was judged to make no difference whether one was pious or not as all alike could be seen dying.

...Sounds familiar? -_- (Ironically, this text was the last thing I taught in an in-person class before the schools closed back in March. I thought it was topical... )

- And as if that wasn’t enough, the Cult of Ares are attacking people because they think burning the dead is blasphemy? ...people would never have been rid of them then, since cremation was THE standard funeral practice in Ancient Greece, plague or no plague. I’m surprised to see such a mistake in a game that’s otherwise really knowledgeable about the period.

- Funeral issues do come up in Thucydides’ book but it’s something stranger and more grim : according to him, desperate people who couldn’t afford their own funeral pyres would try to dump the corpses onto other people’s and run away...

- I’m getting used to the fact that everything bad happening in this game turns out to be the Cult of Kosmos’ fault, but I still didn’t expect them to actually murder Pericles. On the other hand I’m glad that they don’t turn out to be responsible for the plague; that would have been insensitive, especially these days...

- Onwards to Naxos to finally meet dear old mum ! Or mater, as Alexios says. I first thought that was a mistake caused by someone not realising that, while the word for “father” is identical in Latin and Greek (pater), the word for “mother” is actually slightly different, and in Classical Greek it would be meter. But then I realised... he’s from Sparta! “Mother” would actually be mater in his native Dorian dialect. Though I don’t think anybody’s actually thought that far and it’s more likely to be a happy coincidence. ...anyway. Onwards to mum!

[freddyabberline]

this amid all the rest

rating: g characters: lykaon, alexios word count: 965 read on ao3

buy me a coffee!

the last time that he came to lykaon, alexios was a wreck.

his hair in disarray, dusty from travel- it was clear he’d come a long way and stopped little. he was splattered with mud, he smelled like the sea; but more than that there was a wild look to his face, something untamed and wrenching, a deep, deep pain.

lykaon had seen enough death to know that it was grief.

“oh, alexios,” is what he says when he opens the door, a sad little sigh, and he takes alexios in his arms right there in the doorway, drawing him inside. the other man goes without complaint, without resistance; he is silent in fact, as lykaon turns to close the door and guides him to one of the rickety wooden chairs seated near his table.

“phoibe’s dead,” alexios rasps at last, still seeming very far away. lykaon kneels in front of him and goes to work on the buckles of his vambrace. “they killed her, lykaon.”

he did not know who phoibe was, or who they were meant to be, but lykaon presses a kiss to alexios’s knuckles regardless, lingering there.

“i couldn’t protect her.” alexios sucks in a rattling breath that sounds dangerously similar to a sob. “she was only a child.”

lykaon reaches up to take his face in his hands and alexios’s eyes focus, suddenly, on him, bright and glassy. lykaon strokes a thumb across his cheek, catching a tear there.”it’s not your fault, alexiskos. you can’t save everyone, all the time.”

alexios’s fingers loop loosely around lykaon’s wrists, not pushing or pulling, just resting. “i’m not a hero. i know that. but she was mine. i should have--”

“you could have done many things, i think,” lykaon tells him, rising and pressing a kiss to his forehead before moving away. “but there’s no use wondering over what-ifs. what’s done is done. we can only change what’s ahead of us; you taught me that, remember?”

“i’ll kill them all,” alexios says darkly as lykaon turns his back.

there are many things he wishes to respond with, but he holds his tongue. it had been alexios who had kept him from spilling praxithea’s blood, reasoning that blood only begot blood. and lykaon was grateful to him for that, because it’s true that killing praxithea would have broken something in him, but the hypocrisy stung regardless.

“undress.” there was a basin of fresh water on one of the tables pushed against the wall, set aside for later in the evening when lykaon had finished with his patients. “when was the last time you ate, fought? have you any wounds that need tending?”

alexios’s expression goes shifty which, while not the response that would have been best, was much preferred to the shattered sort of grief that had been there before. lykaon sighs and places the basin on the ground as he kneels; he turns himself back to work, undoing the buckles on alexios’s greaves, the man himself fumbling with the latches of his breastplate.

“this, too,” lykaon tells him once he is down to his chiton, dipping and wringing out the cloth he’d brought in the basin. he takes one of alexios’s legs, running the now-damp rag over his calf, wiping away dirt and dust.

“if you wanted me naked,” alexios said, “you could have just started out with that.”

lykaon knows a distraction when he sees one, knows when he is being used as a distraction, and merely hums as he continues his task. “perhaps the gods have sent me to you to teach you patience, misthios.”

later, later, when the sun has dipped below the horizon and taken its golden rays with it, they will find themselves tangled together in lykaon’s bed, quiet and comfortable, loose-limbed. alexios’s head rests on lykaon’s chest, combing his fingers through the dark, curly hair there, and one of lykaon’s hands rest warmly on the back of alexios’s neck.

“lykaon,” alexios says suddenly, his fingers tightening. lykaon hums drowsily, not opening his eyes. “you know i would never let anything hurt you?”

“neither sparta nor athens have interest in delphi outside of the pythia,” he responds, slow, sleepy, “let alone the chora, and especially not some village doctor. i am quite safe here.”

alexios scoffs. “it is a war, no one is safe. but there are... others as well, not spartan or athenian.”

“are these others the same as the they who killed your phoibe?”

alexios goes very, very still, for long enough that lykaon nearly moves to see his face, but then he draws in a sharp, ragged breath. “yes.”

“who are they?”

“i can’t tell you.” alexios sounds reluctant about it. “i won’t tell you. i want to keep you safe.”

“i can’t be safe if i don’t know what is putting me in danger,” lykaon points out.

“the last person i involved,” alexios says, “was phoibe.”

that makes lykaon pause for a long while, absently carding his hand through alexios’s hair, thinking, listening to the sound of their breaths in the quiet and the chirp of insects outside. he asks, “are they the ones who used praxithea?”

immediately, alexios answers, “yes.” and then, “you don’t need to know more than that.”

“sometimes, dear alexios,” lykaon sighs, but doesn’t push forward, “i think you take the world on on your shoulders. you aren’t alone in everything, you know.”

there’s no response, not really, but alexios draws him into a kiss, almost bruising, fingers curled into his beard. lykaon lets himself be pressed back into the pillows as alexios rolls on top of him, and when he wakes in the morning to find himself alone and alexios’s things gone, he’s almost able to beat back that hollow, empty feeling of disappointment at being left behind again.

[blueskymostar-blog]

Ban Kulin (Duke of Bosnia)

Kulin (d. c. November 1204) was the Ban of Bosnia from 1180 to 1204, first as a vassal of the Byzantine Empire and then of the Kingdom of Hungary, but his state was defacto independent. He was one of Bosnia's most prominent and notable historic rulers and had a great effect on the development of early Bosnian history.

One of his most noteworthy diplomatic achievements is widely considered to have been the signing of the Charter of Ban Kulin, which encouraged trade and established peaceful relations between Dubrovnik and his realm of Bosnia.His son, Stjepan Kulinić succeeded him as Bosnian Ban. Kulin founded the House of Kulinić. Kulin's origin is unknown. His sister was married to Miroslav of Hum, the brother of Serbian Grand Prince Stefan Nemanja (r. 1166–1196).

Byzantine Emperor Manuel I Komnenos (1143–1180) was at that time the overlord of Bosnia.[6] In 1180, when Komnenos died, Stefan Nemanja and Kulin asserted independence of Serbia and Bosnia, respectively. His rule is often remembered as being emblematic of Bosnia's golden age, and he is a common hero of Bosnian national folk tales. Under him, the "Bosnian Age of Peace and Prosperity" would come to exist. Bosnia was completely autonomous and mostly at peace during his rule.

 War against Byzantium

 In 1183, he led his troops with the forces of the Kingdom of Hungary under King Béla and the Serbs under Stefan Nemanja, who had just launched an attack on the Byzantine Empire. The cause of the war was Hungary's non-recognition of the new emperor, Andronikos Komnenos. The united forces met little resistance in the eastern Serbian lands - the Byzantine squadrons were fighting among themselves as the local Byzantine commanders Alexios Brannes supported the new Emperor, while Andronikos Lapardes opposed him - and deserted the Imperial Army, going onto adventures on his own.

Without difficulties, the Byzantines were pushed out of the Morava Valley and the allied forces breached all the way to Sofia, raiding Belgrade, Braničevo, Ravno, Niš and Sofia itself.

 Bogomils

 In 1199, Serbian prince Vukan Nemanjić informed the Pope, Innocent, of heresy in Bosnia. Vukan claimed that Kulin, a heretic, had welcomed the heretics whom Bernard of Split had banished, and treated them as Christians. In 1200, the Pope wrote a letter to Kulin's suzerain, the Hungarian King Emeric, warning him that “no small number of Patarenes” had gone from Split and Trogir to Ban Kulin where they were warmly welcomed, and told him to “Go and ascertain the truth of these reports and if Kulin is unwilling to recant, drive him from your lands and confiscate his property.”

Kulin replied to the Pope that he did not regard the immigrants as heretics, but as Catholics, and that he was sending a few of them to Rome for examination, and also invited that a Papal representative be sent to investigate. Unconvinced, the Pope sent his legates to Bosnia to interrogate Kulin and his subjects about religion and life, and if indeed heretical, correct the situation through a prepared constitution.

The Pope wrote to Bernard in 1202 that "a multitude of people in Bosnia are suspected of the damnable heresy of the Cathars." The two legates sent by the Pope went through the country of Bosnia and interrogated the clergy.

 Bilino Polje abjuration

 Not only did Casamaris listen to his informants’ answers, but where they were in error, he would have taught them correct doctrine, in line with Innocent’s directive. John must have convinced himself that he had fulfilled Innocent’s command to correct the krstjani, because the “Confessio” (Abjuration) signed at Bilino Polje by seven priors of the Krstjani church on 8 April 1203, makes no mention of errors.

The same document was brought to Budapest, 30 April by Casamaris and Kulin and two abbots, where it was examined by the Hungarian King and the high clergy. Kulin’s son Stefan, during a later meeting, agreed that if the Bosnians violated the agreement, they would pay a heavy fine of 1,000 marks.

On the surface, the “Confessio” concerned church organization and practices. The monks renounced their schism with Rome and agreed to accept Rome as the mother church. They promised to erect chapels with altars and crucifixes, where they would have priests who would say Mass and dispense Holy Communion at least seven times a year on the main feast days.

The priests would also hear confession and give penances. The monks promised to chant the hours, night and day, and to read the Old Testament as well as the New. They would follow the Church’s schedule of fasts, as well as their own regimen. They also agreed to stop calling themselves krstjani—which had been their exclusive privilege—lest they cause pain to other Christians. They would wear special, uncolored robes, closed and reaching the ankles. In addition they were to have graveyards next to the church, where they would bury their brethren and any visitors who happened to die there.

Women members of the order were to have special quarters away from the men and to eat separately; nor could they be seen talking alone with a monk, lest they cause scandal. The abbots also agreed not to offer lodging to manicheans or other heretics. Finally, upon the death of the head of their order (magister), the abbots, after consultation with their fellow monks, would submit their choice to the Pope for his approval. As for the Bosnian Catholic diocese itself, John advised Innocent that they needed to break the hold of the Slavonic bishop who had ruled the Bosnian church up to then, and to appoint three or four Latin bishops, since Bosnia was a large country (“ten days’ walk”).

After the “Confessio” was approved by King Emmerich, John de Casamaris, in a letter to Innocent, refers to “the former Patarenes.” Obviously, he thought that he had converted the krstjani, but he was wrong. Partly due to Rome’s complacency (caused by Casamaris’s feelings of success) and the Pope’s failure to appoint Latin bishops, as John had suggested, the heretical movement grew stronger over the next few decades, uniting with remnants of the old native Catholic church. Together they formed a national, heretical church which survived crusades and threats of crusades until the mid-fifteenth century, when it gradually vanished in the face of the Ottoman takeover

 Charter of Ban Kulin

 The Charter of Ban Kulin was a trade agreement between Bosnia and the Republic of Ragusa that effectively regulated Ragusan trade rights in Bosnia written on 29 August 1189. It is one of the oldest written state documents in the Balkans and is among the oldest historical documents written in Bosnian Cyrillic. The charter is of great significance in both Serbian and Bosnian national pride and historical heritage.

 Death

 After the death of Ban Kulin in 1204, the Bosnian throne was succeeded by his son Stjepan Kulinić (often referred to in English as Stephen Kulinić).

 Marriage and children

 Kulin married Vojislava, with whom he had two sons:

   Stephen Kulinić, the following Ban of Bosnia

   A son that went with the Pope's emissaries in 1203 to explain heresy accusations against Kulin

 Legacy and folklore

 As a founder of first defacto independent Bosnian state, Kulin was and still is highly regarded among Bosnians. Even today Kulin's era is regarded as one of the most prosperous historical eras, not just for Bosnian medieval state and its feudal lords, but for the common people as well, whose lasting memory of those times is kept in Bosnian folklore, like an old folk proverb with significant meaning: "Od kulina Bana i dobrijeh dana" ("English: Since Kulin Ban and those good ol' days").

Accordingly, in today's Bosnia and Herzegovina, many streets and town squares, as well as cultural institutions, and non-governmental organizations, bear Kulin's name, while numerous culturally significant events, manifestation, festivals and anniversaries are held in celebration of his life and deeds

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                                 Jeon Jungkook, who is also known as Alexios;                                                    a 20 year old son of Poseidon.                                                 He is a barista at The Flower Mill.

FC NAME/GROUP: Jeon Jeongguk/Jeon Jungkook | BTS CHARACTER NAME: Greek Name: Alexios | Korean Name: Jeon Jeongguk AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 01-SEP-1997 PLACE OF BIRTH: Honolulu, Hawaii OCCUPATION: Student in Phoenix University | Barista in a coffee shop downtown HEIGHT: 6’3” | 190.5cm WEIGHT: 170lbs | 77.3kg DEFINING FEATURES: A dark birthmark (almost like a tattoo) the length of his back shaped like a trident; along his spine | Ear piercings on both earlobes (black thin hoops)

PERSONALITY: A happy-go-lucky outside, and a tormented soul inside. That sums up Jeongguk. He lives for the happiness of those around him, and leaves almost nothing for himself. He takes what he can get and make the best out of it. His anxiety put him in a constant state of depression, but he does everything to not let it show to other people. He’s very considerate, maybe a bit too much, but he’ll do anything to make the people he cares about to be happy. Even if it kills him.

HISTORY: Jeongguk was born in Honolulu to a young exchange student named, Jinhee. Afraid of what her parents’ reactions will be if they found out that she got pregnant while she was in college in another country, she decided to give Jeongguk up for adoption the day after he was born. She made sure that Jeongguk can at least have a chance with his mother even for just a little amount of time. When he was brought to an orphanage, a letter was tucked in his blanket, alongside a ring on a chain that has a trident and the name Alexios engraved on it. Jinhee knew who his father was, but for Jeongguk’s sake, she kept it to herself. She graduated college and left Hawaii to go back to South Korea. Leaving Jeongguk behind broke her heart, but she wanted to give him the best chance at life as she knew that she can’t give it to him.

Jeongguk was sent to an orphanage overlooking the Great Lakes. This was both a curse and a gift to the people around him and himself. Whenever he had episodes as a baby, water would shoot through the open windows in the room, but then when he sees the water, it would calm him down. This went on for a long time, and no one knows how this can be explained.

He was left to the care of a “special” caregiver. Special meaning she also has special abilities, but nothing like Jeongguk’s. She was there for him as he grew older and treated him very well. She was also the one to introduce the child about what he really is. She guessed by the birthmark that he was Poseidon’s son, and that’s where their friendship started. Though, as time passed, Jeongguk somehow managed to fall in love with her by the time that he was 15, but out of fear of rejection and shyness, never told her about his feelings. Though, what he did was give her the necklace with the ring that his mother had left with him when he was sent to the orphanage. He was at peace for the longest time while he was with her. Though, all good things come to an end for him.

Two years passed and it was all good. He told himself that he was gonna tell her how he feels when he turns 18, but one day, he woke up to a letter on the table beside his bed. It read as follows:

Dear Jeongguk,

I know this is sudden, but noona had to leave in a hurry. Something urgent came up, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up from your deep slumber.  I know you’re upset, but please, think about the people in the orphanage before letting your emotions overcome your being. Remember what I taught you, alright? This might be the last time you’ll hear from me, but don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. Be good, okay?

Sincerely,

Selina

P.S. Don’t look for me. Selina is just one of my many names. I’m sorry, Jeongguk. Noona loves you.

After reading the letter, his heart started racing and tears welled in his eyes. He rubbed them away and decided to step out of the orphanage. He took what she wrote to heart, and thought about the people he can be putting in danger. Once he was outside and by the oceanside, he let his tears pour out. Harsh cries were heard from the distance, and the water looked just as harsh as his cries. Hours had passed and he was still by the beach crying, but his cries were down to sobs. One of the people running the orphanage came up to him when the water calmed down. He handed Jeongguk a small pouch. Inside the pouch was the ring and its chain. He closed his eyes and muttered a soft ‘thank you’ towards the worker, before he was left on his own again.

This left Jeongguk on a constant state of depression. He was turning 18 soon, and he will be kicked out of the system once he does. He had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. The sliver of hope that turned up in his mail was a letter about Mount Phoenix. Somewhere people like him reside.

“Maybe I can finally belong somewhere.”

PANTHEON: Greek CHILD OF: Poseidon POWERS: Saltwater Manipulation, Swimming Agility, Self-healing, and Aquatic Respiration

Saltwater Manipulation

He can use saltwater as a weapon by:

Turning it into something like a spear for example

Changing its temperature in a smaller scale (E.g. a small area in a beach, make icicles out of them)

Shoot it at whoever/whatever threatens him

Swimming Agility

He can swim really fast, His speed is at 75 knots

He can be faster, but only in bursts; he can’t hold faster speeds as it drains his energy faster

Though, he can use the water to push himself if he chose to, so long as he’s in saltwater

Self-healing

He can heal himself using natural saltwater, but it takes a lot of his energy

If used on heavy injuries, there’s a huge chance he will pass out when he’s done

Aquatic Respiration

He can breathe underwater with no problems

STRENGTHS: High humidity, he can summon saltwater from a distance as long as his eyes reach it, he can make almost anything out of saltwater WEAKNESSES: Can’t be away from water for too long, his emotions can put his powers out of control, severe anxiety (mostly from separation)