#reclaim a home they grew up hearing about in stories

[samthekind]

nosediving into mt doom thinking about fili and kili and how they deserved better

[odetodilfs]

His

A/N: Ok so this fic was born out of a little horny thought I posted here and credits to @emperorj cause it's basically half his idea too! This is the unholiest of the unholiest things I've written, enjoy!

Pairing: power bottom!possessive!Joel Miller x sub!top!male!reader

CWs: SMUT, exhibitionism, shamelessness, marking (hickeys), cum play, rimming (reader giving), blowjobs (reader receiving), use of "good boy", teasing, semi-public sex and established relationship (marriage).

(The original ideas for this story are here)

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You’re his

Joel had spotted a guy dumb enough to flirt with you… 15 minutes later, Joel was sitting on your face. Desperately and ferally riding it as he screamed out your name, letting the world know you were his.  

“Y/n! Fuck yeah! Keep licking that hole!” he screamed out, probably your neighbors would have your names tattooed into their brains the next morning. But you didn’t care, you liked Joel showing everyone you were his. Joel was a shameless man after the outbreak, not caring about his marks on you, sucking you off in public, overall just not really caring, at all, the commune grew worried about you, they were worried if he was hiding something behind closed doors, treating you terribly.

In reality, outside of sex Joel was an amazing person, very caring for you and always being very physical, looking for kisses and hugs. He could also be soft in the bedroom, it wasn’t unusual that he was like that actually, but some other times, Joel became rough, extremely rough and feral. That happened when he felt like his claim on you was in danger, so when someone flirted with you, he took you to your home and claimed you, saying his ass will be the only one you cum in. That he’s the only one who can make you cum so good. That he’s the only one that will hear your moans.

Marks 

Joel loved marking you, especially with hickeys and he didn’t let you cover them up, he wanted the commune to know his ownership of you, so no one would even try to flirt with you. People even grew a little worried at some point, was he hurting you? Were you really consenting to this? The answer was yes, your neck was covered in hickeys, you knew you were Joel’s, and you liked that, in fact, Joel would also leave hickeys in places like your thighs, no one would see them but him, which was another kind of hot. 

Now, Joel didn’t have a good ass for no reason.. he had it to tease you, to make himself irresistible to you. Sure, you were the top 99% of the time, but the one who really had the control was him. You were his service top, to satisfy him and please him. Not just that, he also loved you so dearly, you’d been married since before the outbreak, which was part of the reason he was so possessive of you. After the outbreak, many people tried to find pleasure with you and Joel constantly got jealous because you were his, didn’t they see the ring on your finger? So ever since after the outbreak, Joel’s way of telling you you’re his has only gotten more feral…

Everyone knows..

Everyone knows the kind of things Joel does with you in public, more than once has someone heard him slobbering on your cock, or your moans when he takes your dick to the base in his throat. He wouldn’t do it out in the open street, he’s not that careless. But when he gets needy in public, he pulls you into an alley and does what he wants: you’re there for his pleasure, if anyone tries to flirt he gives them a death stare, and when you get home… he reclaims that little bit of lost ownership.

He always walks out of these alleys in front of you, your eyes lazily glued to his ass as your cum is all over his face, he only wipes it what a single run of his hand across his face can wipe. He just seriously doesn’t care, and with showers and water needing to be rationed, it’s not rare that sometimes you’d smell like each other’s cum (yes this is taken from Silva lmfao but it’s hot). 

When he walks out of an allie, holding a tired you’s hand, he smirks with a cum covered smile at every person who once tried to flirt with you, they can see you’re his, sometimes if he’s feeling extra eager to show off, he’ll lift you in his arms and carry you home, no matter how much you tell him he doesn’t need to.

He’s not forcing you though..

In non sexual moments between you two, he asks you if you want to keep this up, that he’s sorry he goes so feral and possessive of you, but you enjoy it, you really do, you enjoy being his. You’d do anything to hear him call you a good boy while you eat his ass, it’s your favorite feeling. You like being edged for hours by him, or getting milked by him while he keeps telling you how much of a good boy you’re being for him. 

Sometimes, you have soft, loving sex with each other even, it’s nice to have a break from your kinky sex and just let your fucking be spurred by pure love. 

He knows what you like..

Joel uses what you like to make you even more needy for him. He knows you love seeing your cum leak out of his hole, to overfill it with your load, letting you lose yourself toying with his cum filled hole. You’re always so eager to fill him up.. his ass is too much to resist. When you two go out, you sometimes see a wet spot on the back of his trousers and you instantly know that’s your cum.

He knows how much you like to eat him out, how needy the sight of his legs spread and his hole showing can get you. He gives you it, lets you lick and suck desperately at his hole, using your tongue trying to taste him as much as you can. As he always says when you eat him out “Fuck, you’re such a good boy…” 

Joel liked showing that you were his, and who were you to deny him of the pleasure when you loved it so much too?

[intheholler]

Been reading your posts about the accent and all, and I wanted to share two horror stories I wrote in my accent. :)

Knock Three Times

Ol' Knocky

Also it's interesting reading your posts about it - I've always been proud of my accent and my home and not exactly able to empathize with people who internalize the prejudice and turn against their home. So your posts are helping me see that side of things more.

Maybe it's because I grew up in Mount Airy, and of course we pride ourselves on Andy Griffith and Mayberry and all that. So maybe I got lucky and didn't grow up around the shame as much.

As for people assuming we're "dumb" - in 7th grade I scored high enough on the verbal part of the SAT to go to Duke's TIP program. There was a girl there from Tobaccoville with the thickest accent I've heard yet. I hope she kept it and I hope she's proud of it.

Anyway I love your blog and I hope you keep fighting the good fight. :)

hi, thanks! also thanks for being here contributing a counterpoint perspective.

i'll explain it how i see it personally: it isn't like the accent is just a collection of sounds or something equally as simple. it is one of the accents and dialects that carries on its back something much heavier. this has to do with code-switching, which occurs in all sorts of sociolinguistic cases.

it also isn't necessarily us 'turning away from home' (i'd like to address that further in a minute).

so to the sociolinguistic point:

in my case--and in a lot of cases given by those who have shared their stories with this community here--we are queer, non- or ex-religious people with leftist ideals. the opposite of what people are adamant about associating this region with.

the accent has become like a hallmark of that kind of behavior we don't align ourselves with but are still stereotyped and harmed by.

it seems to be a common experience that we want to hide the accent so we aren't automatically pegged as being the exact opposite of who we truly are.

because so many people, consciously or subconciously, revert to their misconceptions when they hear it, before we even have a chance to show them we're of like mind. i say this as someone who moved away from appalachia for several years. it's a thing. i promise.

so if you're trying to see it from our perspective, i think that's an important thing to understand. lord knows there ain't shit wrong with the accent itself. to me, it's home-y and warm, soft and familiar and hospitable.

it's what the accent unfortunately implies before we can get a word in edgewise. it isn't fair that we are made to feel this way, and i am hoping by reclaiming my own accent as i have been, i will be changing minds for the better.

but socially--its HARD. its EXHAUSTING. and code-switching has historically just been so much easier.

also--and i say this gently--i struggle with your idea of "turning away from home," because it reminds me of something regressionists in the south/appalachian south say about young people leaving the region, calling them traitors. this us-them mentality simply needs to be dissolved.

i am not turning away from my home when i protect myself from hatred and vitriol based solely on how i drawl my "i" sounds. my home has turned away from me.

it was always mine, always ours. my ancestors--our ancestors--were generous, loving, community-driven, hospitable folks. these hateful fucks have stolen what it once was and projected an awful image out into the world instead. that's not on me. all i can do is try to set it right again.

thanks again for your thoughts! <3

[asia2023animationgirl]

@jamalwhite12 I made part 4 of The Mystery Kids!

Chapter 4: The Secret of the Tiki Monsters

The next morning, the Mystery Kids gathered at the Luau Cabana Cafe, buzzing with anticipation. Valerie, their fearless leader, stood up and addressed the group.

"Okay, team, we've got some promising leads on these Tiki Monsters, but we need to dig deeper. I think it's time we paid a visit to the local elder, Kapono, who might have some insights into the cultural significance of these creatures."

Jason, ever the adventurer, perked up. "Sweet! I'm ready to uncover some ancient Hawaiian secrets. Spot's coming too, right?" He looked down at his loyal dog, who barked in agreement.

Kip, the resident science enthusiast, nodded thoughtfully. "That's a great idea, Valerie. If we can understand the Tiki Monsters from a cultural perspective, it might help us figure out why they're causing so much trouble."

Sydney chimed in, her fashion-forward mind already whirring. "And maybe we can find some cool Hawaiian-inspired outfits to wear for the occasion. Gotta look our best to impress the elder, you know?"

Lizzy, the newcomer from Tokyo, smiled warmly. "I'm sure Kapono will be happy to share his knowledge with us. The Tiki Monsters are an important part of Hawaiian folklore, and we should approach them with respect."

Kenya, Kip's younger sister, bounced excitedly. "I hope he tells us stories about the Tiki Monsters! I want to learn all about them."

Valerie nodded, pleased to see her team's enthusiasm. "Alright, then it's settled. Let's head out and see what Kapono has to say."

The group made their way through the vibrant streets of Honolulu, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling city. Lizzy pointed out various landmarks and shared snippets of Hawaiian history, captivating the others with her cultural knowledge.

After a short hike, they arrived at a tranquil, secluded area where a weathered, elderly man sat cross-legged under the shade of a towering palm tree. This was Kapono, the local elder they had come to see.

"Welcome, young adventurers," Kapono greeted them in a warm, gravelly voice. "I've been expecting you. Please, have a seat and make yourselves comfortable."

The kids settled around the elder, their eyes filled with curiosity. Valerie spoke up first. "Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Kapono. We've been hearing a lot of stories about the Tiki Monsters, and we'd love to learn more about them from you."

Kapono nodded, his weathered face creasing into a gentle smile. "Ah, yes, the Tiki Monsters. They are a vital part of our Hawaiian heritage, though their true nature is often misunderstood by outsiders."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the group. "You see, the Tiki Monsters, or 'Akua Tiki' as we call them, are not mere legends or folklore. They are the ancient spirits of our ancestors, tasked with protecting the land and its people."

Kip's eyes widened with fascination. "Protecting the land? But we've heard they've been causing trouble and stealing artifacts."

Kapono raised a weathered hand. "Ah, but that is where the misunderstanding lies. The Akua Tiki are not malicious creatures; they are simply trying to fulfill their sacred duty. However, in recent times, their actions have been perceived as disruptive by those who do not understand their ways."

Jason scratched his head, his brow furrowed. "So, what are they trying to protect? And why are they acting up now?"

The elder's gaze grew somber. "The Akua Tiki are guardians of the land, the ocean, and the ancient Hawaiian traditions. They have watched over these sacred places for generations. But now, with the rapid development and influx of tourists, their domain has been threatened. They are simply trying to reclaim what is rightfully theirs."

Lizzy nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I see. It's like they're trying to defend their home and culture from being overrun. No wonder they're causing such a stir."

Kapono smiled approvingly. "Exactly, young one. The Akua Tiki are not villains, but misunderstood protectors. They have been driven to desperate measures to safeguard what they hold dear."

Valerie's brow furrowed as she processed this new information. "So, what can we do to help them? We don't want to fight them, but we also can't let them keep causing chaos in the city."

The elder's eyes twinkled with wisdom. "Ah, that is where your true test lies, young leaders. You must find a way to bridge the gap between the Akua Tiki and the people of Honolulu. Only through understanding and cooperation can harmony be restored."

Kenya piped up, her eyes shining with excitement. "I know! We can throw a big party and invite the Tiki Monsters to come! That way, everyone can get to know each other and be friends!"

Kapono chuckled, his weathered face crinkling with delight. "A wonderful idea, little one. The Akua Tiki are drawn to celebrations and community. If you can create an event that honors their traditions and allows them to feel respected, they may be willing to cease their disruptive behavior."

Valerie's eyes lit up with determination. "Okay, team, you heard the elder. Let's put our heads together and come up with a plan to throw the best Tiki Monster festival Honolulu has ever seen!"

The kids erupted into excited chatter, their minds buzzing with ideas as they prepared to embark on their most important mission yet – to bridge the gap between the Tiki Monsters and the people of Hawaii.

[randompolykin]

I was not chosen for a certain reason I was just next in line, and was in the right conditions to be used, so you took me, and I was out out into the world, since I was made, I had known my purpose.

My tire tracks rolled on the flat ground. The dark sky surrounded all around. I knew to keep going, for we were not yet there, and you were still up, showing me I was still supposed to be moving, the world breathed all around us, in a different way that you did, yet still much more fuller and cluttered then how I did.

As the sky grew lighter, you all started to awake, and you became different then each other, your souls carrying different baggage and your hearts filled with different wants, your complexity and ability to fight change in a way that changes you was something my machine mind could not understand. Yet your strange presence inside of me felt calming, like a balance. As some of you were bitter and full of hate and anger, others soft, scared, and full of a kindness they thought would be a good reason for coming here, so different, that it adds a balance to my walls. You are my family, and I shall protect you with my walls, you shall use me in the battle. For I am yours, and you might not realize, but your are also mine.

We get to the forest, and the battle draws near, you cover me in the forest, to hide me, therefore hiding you, I feel safer covered in leaves and moss and sticks, the forest is protecting me, as I protect you.

The battle comes, and I let you use me, I let myself be a calm in the storm.

And then it ends, and we either go home, tired, barely still working right, and slowly going back, or to another post, I may see you again, maybe never, I may be used like this again, or be taking apart and my pieces scattered, reborn into parts of other things.

Or maybe I am stuck here, maybe you are bleeding out, stuck dieing inside of me, and as I sallow you, the earth sallows me.

Or you escape, leaving me here to be consumed my the earth alone, along with the other machines. My metal digges into the earth, as the earth grabs me into it. The moss no longer keeping me hidden, but keeping me trapped. But it is alright. This is another stage of my existence. A time far away, the moss will cover us halfway, we and nature will be at a snug point, and people will find this place, hear the trees whisper of the battle once fought here, the names of the soldiers that died, and the ones that escaped. And we will whisper with it. They will stand before us, and take little pieces of us, for even though our original purpose is gone, we are still beautiful, wise, important things, for we are history now.

Maybe the earth will just consume us, and our stories only told in documents, maybe in history books, or stories of tragedy and glory told around their granddad's kitchen table.

Or maybe or story isn't just about the battle, and the humans in it. Maybe it's about us, and the forest.

Maybe it's about nature reclaiming us, the machines of war created my human and fellow machine hands, maybe it's about the graffiti they drew on us as they came by, maybe we became a reason for them to go out into the forest.

Maybe we are so many different stories in one. With so many different purposes.

[crispysnake]

Congratulations on 350!!!!!!!

I picked my favorite dice for this, and I rolled a 57 for the AU and a 4 on the D6.

alshdash I'm so excited to see what it is!!!! I always love your AUs and ideas :D

Crispys 350 Followers Celebration Ask Game!🎉

HI RAVEN and tysm friend:) I am so honored you used your favorite dice omg, you got Journalist Au!

• When Vax was younger in byroden he would often hide around corners and up in trees to collect all and any gossip he could get his hands on, only to run home and tell Elaina all about it while she prepared dinner, he didn't realize this until later but it was his favorite part of the day.

• So I think he grew up and slowly realized he really liked hearing other people's stories, he liked meeting people and learning what they're about

• I think unfortunately stuff with the Clasp does still happen, and journalism instead became a front so that they could use Vax as a sneaky informant for their dealings

• BUT when he eventually leaves the Clasp, he reclaims that love for what he used to do. I think he starts going by an anonymous name (the raven) so that no one will piece together that he worked with the Clasp, and ended up meeting VM while following their stories:) (if only it wasn't for one of those stories that he accidentally hinted to who he is which only made it easier for the clasp to find them!)

[amalasdraws]

✨ For the Q&A ✨

1) Do Aran and Tao speak their parents' languages? And do they feel connected to their heritage?

2) What's their biggest pet peeve?

3) Is there something about worldbuilding that you haven't developed but would love to work on in the future?

Yes they do speak it and have been raised hearing and speaking it at home. Aran who grew up in his home country still feels distant to his heritage. He lost his mother early, and doesn't have a Syrian community now in the USA and feels he lost out. He tries to relearn and reclaim things. Tao is more connected. His family is bigger and they celebrate Taiwanese holidays together and have a bigger community.

Tao tries to become more patient and forgiving but he gets restless when people talk too slow. Also some textures and noises bring him to the edge. Aran hates when people try to prey on his private life. If he has something to share he will do so, no need to ask him if he has a partner or what his future plans are. And hair in the sink and shower.

Ohh good question but hard to answer. Over the last year, as we are creating our pitch, Suzie and I have developed the story and characters a lot and it was great! I think my weakness is that I focus always a lot on the main characters, and hyper focus on them, and kinda forget to develop friends and family and what kind of people they are. This is def I have to learn and it was great to have Suzie who created new friends and developed the family members more!

[khorren]

Meet Cosima.

She's currently leveling even though I have tomes, so she's crammed into the maid outfit for fun.

Serenity, my main commander is going into full retirement with End of Dragons ending, so who better to take over than..... herself.

I subscribe to the three-Tyrias theory (the lore behind WvW basically) that I have lore-broken a bit because I can. Celestial Order live in one of them, Aoife 2 + Sebastian in the other, and in the third we have Cosima.

For those new to my world of Tyria, Serenity (not her real name) is my commander, lost her memory at 6, and pretty much all her life has been manipulated by my GW1 Necromancer, Ruby. She recently found out how much her life got manipulated and she's not cool with it. At all. She went on a break after season 4, came back for EoD, and is bouncing out of leadership for realsies this time.

Cosima is Serenity before she got the memories and childhood zapped out of her, and without the manipulation of Ruby. She grew up in Divinity's Reach in an inn (The Busted Flagon) and when her parents died she was looked after by the staff there. When she's older she learns the place is mostly populated by Shining Blade members, and there's secret tunnels under the inn heading to the HQ below the city and she takes her Oaths to join the order.

The story plays out like the in game story, but she doesn't join an Order, instead she's part of an elite Seraph unit (undercover shining blade) assigned to the Pact for human relations. She becomes the commander still and things play out more or less the same.

Path of Fire happens.

Vlast survives for…. reasons. idk. fill in later. Then The Departing happens.

Dies at the departing. The Mists are being…. weird. She's having trouble reclaiming her name and Purpose, like someone else is knocking her down when she gets close. It takes her some time to get out. Enough time in fact that both Balthazar and Joko are dead. Wandering around Elona she hears people talking about the deeds of the Commander and Dragon's Watch and how the Commander is currently in Thunderhead Peaks dealing with Kralk.

She takes passage home to Divinity's Reach and shows up at the bar. Familiar faces but they're surprised to see her. "Serenity, I thought you were…" Who? She orders a drink and sits at a table in the back. Things feel…. off. She goes to another inn and spends the next few nights there until one night there's a knock at the door with Kensi (my human rev) outside. "Hi. We need to talk"

[keepers-of-lost-light]

About The Worldly Twins & The Infinite Cosmos

I wish I could share more stories with you of the times during The Godly Cataclysm, but many mortals who lived during that century in Alsandri have disappeared. The Last Expeditions of The Scaled Sisters were lost to the world after their ascension which left both Sapientia & Eleatheria upset for a fair amount of time. And to this day, they have yet to be found. 

A new expedition to find these lost souls was launched decades ago, but they have yet to make headway against the nature that is Alsandri. Many myths and legends say that the only ones who know of their whereabouts is that of Sapientia & Eleatheria. Others say that Sapientia’s children were the last to see them; as the people of The Last Expeditions cared for the children as their mother fought against the gods. 

Truth be told, the only ones who would be able to confirm any of this would be The Worldly Twins themselves, Lunis & Solis. I have yet to hear their entire story.

Being the children of Antonios, they were given godly abilities. And when their mother ascended their power only seemed to grow despite still being only considered demigods. 

Antonios had left an entire realm for Sapientia & Eleatheria to mold to their liking after the gods came to an understanding that The Seren Planar System needed balance. So the sisters would not be allowed to join that of The Life Pantheon or The Death Pantheon. Instead, they ended up carving out their own place in the universe.

This realm was pulled straight from The Void by Antonios, imbued with some of the light of Caelum, and left malleable. An empty cosmic tear that separated the outermost planes from The World Garden. (This sits between the orbits of Caelum & Inferis.)

The Scaled Sister created a safe haven for their little family within, molding it to look exactly like the home they left behind in The World Garden on Alsandri. And as The Worldly Twins grew older, and Lunis recovered from her death after The Godly Cataclysm, they started to learn that they could also mold the realm to their will.

Lunis was much better at doing this than her brother Solis. 

While Solis longed to return back to The World Garden, Lunis figured out how to bring the garden to them through the unconscious minds of it’s mortal residents. She began to understand why Antonios had left the realm given to them malleable. 

‘When The Major Gods had made The World Garden it had simply started as a vision before it was given life. And what are dreams if not visions given life?’

Soon, Lunis began to gift small visions to mortals as they slept. Dreams that gave mortals the ability to experience things that may not be possible in the material realms. With dreams came further innovations, and further developments from the mortals. 

Allowing mortals the opportunity to basically realm hop within their unconscious minds ended up pulling the realm that The Scaled Sisters and The Worldly Twins called home closer. The World Garden was once again accessible to the new gods, and a home that they had come to love was reclaimed as they were granted the ability to walk amongst mortals again. 

This realm of dreams would eventually be titled The Infinite Cosmos as more and more mortals spread word of the lands you could visit while asleep. The rumors of Sapientia & Eleatheria returning to The World Garden ran rampant as adventurers swore they could feel a presence watching over them during their travels. 

And if the sun shone a little brighter the first time Solis came back home, none were wiser as they smiled up at the sun glares that warmed their souls.

And when two little stars followed the moon through the sky as it granted mortals peace, none would complain about the extra light in the night as they fell into their dreams. 

The Scaled Sisters & The Worldly Twins would eventually become known as The Demigods of The Balance Pantheon. 

Eleatheria, Goddess of Freedom & Travel.

Sapientia, Goddess of Knowledge & Truth.

Lunis, Goddess of Dreams.

Solis, God of Mischief.

Scribe of Thiania

[moshieldnorthsaltlake]

Our Story

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About Mosquito Shield of North Salt Lake City

Hi, we’re Dustin and Jennifer Schouten and we’re the owners of Mosquito Shield of North Salt Lake City. We love that we are a customer service company. Putting the customer first and letting them know how important they are is something that sold us on Mosquito Shield. We know how good it feels to be treated well and we want to give that back to the community.  

Our goal, as owners, is to educate the people in our community about our company and what Mosquito Shield can do for them.  Our area is a haven for mosquitoes. Many homes have been built on reclaimed marshlands, and we can provide a service that allows people to enjoy their yards again. With Mosquito Shield, we also aim to spend more time doing things we want to do as a family and to create something that we can hopefully pass down to our next generation.

Dustin and I were first attracted to Mosquito Shield due to its seasonality. We have young children and like the idea of knowing that we’ll never have to request time off to be together as a family during winter holidays. My son and I, Joe, are also extremely desirable to Utah’s mosquitoes. Our son is so miserable when he tries to play outside, so we know we can help other people like him to enjoy a pest-free outdoor experience. I grew up in Katy, Texas and am a graduate of Texas A&M University. Since marrying Dustin, we’ve lived and traveled throughout the country and world, but we’re excited to be back in Dustin’s hometown where we can see the mountains everyday. Dustin was born in Salt Lake City, but moved often when he was young. He does, however, have a lot of family ties in the great state of Utah. In fact, he has a relative that is the former mayor of Ogden! 

Dustin retired from the US Navy in 2018 and after working for a few different companies decided he would like to work for himself and his family. We’re proud to be a veteran-owned business and we’re excited to start Mosquito Shield of North Salt Lake City and set down roots for our children. 

Here in Salt Lake, we love J. Wong Thai and China Bistro in the downtown Salt Lake City area. Dustin’s dad has been going there for years and strongly recommended that we check it out when we moved to Utah. We love supporting a family-owned business like them and the food is beyond amazing. Dustin gets his favorite Kung Pao Chicken, I can choose from a variety of Thai or Chinese dishes, and the kids are delighted by the robots that bring the food to the tables. Every weekend we visit a different park as we enjoy spending time outdoors with our kids and our new best friend, Namaste, a Dutch Shepherd. Nami is learning how to track and has been taking service dog classes. 

The leadership experience and dedication to service Dustin gained from his time in the Navy translates well into running a business that gives back to the community at large. We’re very customer-oriented and set on 100% satisfaction for each customer. Our satisfaction guarantee comes with a money-back promise. Within 7 days of spraying, if you’re not satisfied, we will do a respray. After that, if you’re still not noticing a difference, we’ll refund your money.

Mosquito Shield® was founded in 2001 as a direct answer to a major problem: mosquitoes. In the absence of an effective mosquito control service and the inadequacy of personal products, a new solution was necessary.

For the past two decades, we’ve mastered our blend of all-natural oils and select control products to become that solution. We’ve tested different blends, application methods, and frequencies of applications to perfect an effective and responsible solution. The result is Mosquito Shield.

Our numbers would demonstrate that we’ve filled the gap. 8 out of every 10 customers return year after year, and we now service tens of thousands of American households.

To hear what our clients are saying, please visit our customer reviews and testimonials section.

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Mosquito Shield® is a leading residential mosquito and tick control service with over 120 franchise locations across the United States. Each of Mosquito Shield’s franchises are owned and operated by independent local business men and women. With the threat of mosquito and tick-borne illnesses on the rise in the United States, Mosquito Shield Franchise Corporation was launched in 2013 and has since developed into a leading franchise opportunity in the growing pest-control industry.

What Makes Mosquito Shield Better?

Tailored Treatment Plan

We’re the only company in the industry that reacts to mosquito behavior. Without a set schedule, we can adapt to your yard's needs and the mosquitoes around it.

On average, we visit every 10-17 days to ensure a mosquito-free lifestyle.

Proprietary Mosquito Protection Blend

Our special blend began 20 years ago and we continually evolve it to maximize effectiveness.

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All of our technicians are trained in environmentally smart practices. They target active mosquito areas and are taught the signs to recognize them.

This means less overall spraying, more dead mosquitoes, and a healthy ecosystem in your backyard.

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If you’re not happy with our services, let us know. We’ll work hard to make it right, including offering a service call spray if needed.

If you’re unhappy with the results after your first visit, simply notify us within 7 days and we will issue you a full refund.

You can’t put a price on peace of mind and relaxation. With our service, you can relax knowing that we are helping protect your pets, kids, friends and loved ones outside. We kill and repel mosquitoes, ticks, and therefore help keep away the diseases that come with them.

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[mariacallous]

It’s been nothing but grim news for the Chinese economy this year. A hoped-for COVID-19 recovery never materialized after years of repression left the public wary of spending, giving it a case of what economist Adam Posen dubbed “economic long COVID.” (Hear him discussing that idea on FP Live.) Real estate giants have been on the brink of collapse all year. Even the Communist Party has reluctantly acknowledged the scale of the problems it faces, although officials claim that things can only get better. And Chinese dictator Xi Jinping needs someone to blame for everything going wrong.

The sharp slowdown has hit hard in a country that has experienced three decades of uninterrupted high growth. (It would have been four, if not for the interruption of the protests and killings of 1989.) Like the European “30 glorious years” of the postwar era, the notion that each year would be better than the next came to be taken for granted; those days are over.

Here are five perspectives on the Chinese economic crisis—and the impact that it’s left on the public.

1. The Chinese Communist Party Wants the Property Bubble Back

By Robert Foyle Hunwick, Jan. 10

The Chinese growth story has been about property and construction—especially for an urban middle class that was given its homes by the state in the 1990s and watched their value rocket. For years, the government tried to deflate the property bubble, but now it’s desperate to reinflate it. “With unreliable and government-fiddled stock markets, 70 percent of Chinese wealth is held in real estate,” writes British author Robert Foyle Hunwick, an expert on crime in China, “while land sales remain the main source of income for those same corrupt provincial administrators.”

Corruption helped fuel the real estate market as officials bought up valuable property, but it was also a massive source of corruption itself. Real estate deals were greased by bribery, and local leaders grew fat off the proceeds. Everyone else got sucked in, too, and may be left holding the bag. When it comes to presales, for instance, which are the mortgages that most Chinese homebuyers take out on as yet unbuilt apartments, “there’s a local legal twist to it that has caused further headaches: In China, the lender can go after the borrower, as well as developers, if they wish to reclaim any unpaid debt.”

2. How China’s Education System Trapped a Generation

By Helen Gao, June 22

China’s youth unemployment has reached such high levels this year that the government stopped publishing the statistics. For a generation of college graduates raised in cutthroat educational competition against their peers, the discovery that promised rewards have vanished has been traumatic. As Gao, a writer and reporter in her 30s, describes it, “When I read news about state crackdowns on the private sector, I feel a sense of déjà vu. The industries under assault—private tutoring, property, tech, and finance—employed the country’s best and brightest.”

Young Chinese have turned instead to “lying flat”—giving up on the rat race and working the minimum that they can in order to survive. As Gao says, she was taught to sneer at the slackers among her peers, but now she thinks they had the right idea all along. “As my generation’s once-bright prospects fade, the truth comes out: We thought we had left school behind when we graduated. It turns out school has followed us into adulthood and makes us its pupils still.”

3. Xi’s Policies Have Shortened the Fuse on China’s Economic Time Bombs

By Zongyuan Zoe Liu, Sept. 6

China’s economic problems run deep, writes political economist Zongyuan Zoe Liu, from sluggish consumption to a demographic crisis to a housing bubble. But Xi’s policies have taken existing fault lines and deepened them. “Economically, Xi has been a bull in a china shop. His economic policies have often shifted focus but always emphasize the party’s overarching control across nearly all dimensions of China’s economic and financial activity.”

Xi’s obsession with top-down control has wrecked the chances of thoughtful reform. While there was once room for policy experimentation at a local level that could be scaled up later, today the pressure to appeal to the man in charge is stronger than ever. “Chinese policy thinkers attempted to compensate for the absence of prudent economic strategy under Xi by ceaselessly leaping from one grand idea to the next under the banner of national rejuvenation,” Liu writes.

4. China Prefers Guns to Butter

By Jacqueline N. Deal and Michael Mort, Sept. 7

As the economic crisis bites and cities struggle to pay pensions or welfare, there’s one institution that rarely goes short in Xi’s China: the military. Defense spending has kept soaring upward in the hope of winning a confrontation with the United States—or out of fear that Washington might strike first.

“Of course, the history of PLA [People’s Liberation Army] entanglement in China’s domestic economy makes it difficult to discriminate between defense investment for military purposes and internally oriented stimulus spending (i.e., make-work),” Deal and Mort, who run a Washington, D.C., consultancy, note, but “in the event that China continues to fail to transition to sustainable consumption-based growth, Beijing will be left with one of the biggest hammers in the world, and recalcitrant parties abroad may all look like nails.”

The COVID-19 pandemic caused a temporary slowdown in spending—but the economic crisis hasn’t. “PLA investment stalled during the height of COVID on the mainland in 2020 as Chinese shipyards switched from building PLA Navy vessels, a traditional cost center, to building commercial ships—potentially because constructing warships requires tighter working conditions than constructing bulk carriers, and health concerns were paramount. But the spending increases appear to have resumed by last year and to be outstripping GDP growth once more,” they write.

5. Maybe China’s Economy Isn’t So Doomed

By Bob Davis, Oct. 17

Amid all the bad news, some analysts remained bearish on China’s long-term prospects, pointing to the way the country had successfully ridden out previous crises, such as the global crash of 2008 or the peer-to-peer lending scandals of 2015-2018. Veteran China economy reporter Bob Davis took a long look at the optimists. “The optimists’ case relies on a close examination of Chinese economic data but also reflects the view that while President Xi Jinping and the rest of the Chinese leadership are hard-liners politically, they are economic pragmatists who want to follow in the tradition of Deng Xiaoping, who led China’s opening to the West,” Davis writes.

There’s certainly been a tendency to read any downturn in China as doom for the Chinese Communist Party—and it’s worth remembering that states survive recessions, or even depressions, all the time. “Every time the Chinese economy stumbles, there is a tendency to say that finally the end is near,” Cornell University economist Eswar Prasad told Davis. “The optimists’ view might be too optimistic, but it provides some grounding, so we don’t get too carried away every time the Chinese economy stumbles.”

[tiesthatbind-tf]

A lad finally gets some of that coveted spotlight!

Benjamin Bane (just Ben or Benji, thanks) may be the youngest of the active Autobot team as their sprightly scout who’s got a chip on his shoulder he wants to hurl into the next Functionist or Decepticon picking on him for his size, and who’s been through quite a bit despite his age, if the burn on his left arm, the slide bite on his right hand  and the multitude of old cigarette burns he’s reluctant to explain are anything to go by.

When not on the field, he’s an avid dancer (with a love for ballet, something he could only pursue in secret until recently, and something which forms the core of his offensive style) and a good enough artist that he, alongside Mirage, are the two assigned to decorate armor for the team.

His smiley, chirpy facade hides quite a couple of issues, including PSTD and self-esteem issues, anxiety attacks, and an urge to please those he trusts even if it comes at his detriment.

More to his story below. (TW for child abuse)

Benjamin Bane (Bumblebee) would be hard-pressed to come up with a single good memory concerning his biological family during his childhood, and not for the lack of trying.

Born to an upper middle-class family in New York comprising a bullish, hot-tempered police sergeant father and a housewife mother, he grew up in the shadow of the son his father, who came from a family of law enforcers, wanted him to be in order to carry on the family legacy.

That he was a gentle, bubbly, sensitive child who loved following his mother around in the kitchen and spending his free time drawing did not bode well for the image his father wished to portray, and it didn’t take long for the discipline intended to mold him into a ‘man’ to become horrifically physical when he was barely five.

His mother, already used to his old man’s temper and quick hand, would often step in to take the punishment meant for him whenever he did something undesirable, though she couldn’t save Ben from the man’s wrath completely, and by the time he was nine, he was never seen without a hoodie in school and had perfected every excuse he’d been told to repeat when asked why he could not take it off or why he would come in on some days with a split lip.

He was small for his size, quiet, and took great pains not to be noticed, which had the opposite effect of making him the target of every other larger child looking to blow off steam, and he became good at running.

Really good.

There was no running from home however, home where the walls were insulated so neighbours wouldn’t hear what was happening within, and while some days would be better than others, there wasn’t a moment that he didn’t break into a cold sweat whenever he heard his father’s footsteps approaching his room.

With his mother unable to bear more children due to an illness, his father furiously continued with the campaign (sometimes the carrot was used  though mostly it was the stick) to mold him into the son the man wanted, so he could make the cut during the streaming process prior to high school where students would be sorted into their future occupational classes.

What support he might have had from his mother in his young years also evaporated, as she pushed him to be the son his father needed him to be to keep the peace, putting the weight of the household’s sanctity on his slight  shoulders.

He was forced into marksmanship lessons (where his first attempt to fire a gun went awry and left him with a deep slide bite wound), multiple self-defence classes to toughen him up (helpful for bullies whenever they didn’t come in packs), and a series of workouts to encourage a growth spurt so he could catch up to other potential cadet  candidates.

The little sliver of hope that he would be good enough to make the junior police  cadets went up in smoke when he was assigned to the manual class instead, owing to his size and his visceral aversion to handling firearms.

Branded as worthless and only good for paying off the ‘debt’ accumulated from the classes his father had earlier forced him into, Ben entered high school with his self-esteem scrapping at topsoil and digging deeper, and had it not been for a chance encounter with another boy who was evading a group of military-classed students intending to instil a lesson about talking back to those higher in the hierarchy, it might have dug itself into a grave.

The boy, who introduced himself as Guillermo ‘Memo’ Gutierrez after Ben dutifully sent the bullies scattering, was also assigned to the manual class and both of them  decided to stick together for safety in numbers.

Ben had ruefully accepted his lot in life after years of being broken and beaten down. Memo, however, had a loving and supportive family; this kept the spark of his defiance to the system alive and he kindled it in Ben’s by giving his friend a safe space to escape to whenever the situation at Ben’s home became too intense.

Among Memo and Memo’s family was the first time where Ben opened up about his interests, could speak freely and found acceptance for what he liked and who he was.

The desire to reclaim the things he loved pushed him to seek out part-time work, which he eventually found after befriending a girl, Charlie Watson, who had helped put an end to the harassment he and Memo endured at school by playing the hierarchy to their favour and wielding her Navy ‘prime-pick’ status.

That she actually wanted nothing to do with the class she was pushed into (Navy) and wished to pursue a career in automotives despite parental objections was something that she and Ben bonded over, and she brought him to the scrapyard her uncle ran where he found work sorting out car parts and helping perform repairs.

He began to pursue art and dance in secret with part of his pay (keeping his sketchbooks and supplies at Memo’s place and taking dance lessons under the guise of after-class study sessions), while saving up the rest and planning for the day he would eventually break free of his father, ‘debt’ or no ‘debt’.

During this time, he subtly packed away important items and was careful not to anger his old man more than his mere presence already did on a good day——something which would become increasingly hard when the Clampdown began.

He would hear his father rant over the dinner table about how ungrateful the protesters who were made up mostly of the Manual Class were, how they weren’t worth the safety net they were demanding for the job they were doing, how they needed to know their place.

He would hear, as time went by, about how his father would beat the ones who were arrested, and more than once, how he would be killed if he, as the man’s son, ever did something as stupid and insolent as that.

He bit his tongue through all this and reluctantly refused Memo’s offer to join a peaceful protest for better wages and workplace compensation.

The protest turned violent after police assaulted those taking part however, and as he watched the news hoping to see if Memo was alright, he saw his friend among those who were tossed into the dreaded black vans to be brought over to stations for interrogation.

His father, fielding a call from a colleague about the batch of protesters being brought in, told them to separate the adults from the teenagers, who would be easier to break, and it was at this point Ben’s spark turned into a bonfire.

As his father got dressed for work, he crept into the man’s study and managed to figure out the combination to the safe where the man’s gun was kept, retrieving it and aiming it at the police sergeant who came in and demanded for him to stand down.

Ben, in turn, demanded for his father to call the station and have Memo released, and when his father laughed at his audacity, mocked the way his hands shook while he was holding the gun and threatened to beat him senseless once this was all over, he shot the man close enough to the head to clip an ear to prove a point, before repeating his demand again.

This time, his father complied and called the station to order for Memo’s release; Ben’s relief however was all the momentary lapse of guard that his father needed to rush in and attempt to wrest the gun back, and in the struggle, he accidentally shot his father in the knee.

Under the hail of threats on how he was going to die once his father got hands on him, Ben flung the gun where the man could not reach, grabbed one of the bags he had secretly packed and ran out of the house to the screams of his mother.

He called Charlie and explained the situation to her, as both of them made their way to the station where his father worked to pick up Memo, who was confused about the state of affairs.

At 18 years, Ben was now a fugitive who could no longer go home; Memo brought him to the manual class district where Ben could hide among allies, and it was here that he spent a few months in hiding, disguised as a manual worker.

However, still fully terrified at the thought of his father eventually hunting him down within the confines of the city, he made plans to leave and head to the West Coast, far away from any chance that he would meet his old man by accident on the streets.

To his surprise,  Charlie and Memo elected to join him in the move, and the three of them left together on a  Greyhound bus; Him to escape his father, Charlie to escape her future with a military complex which her father died for and Memo to protect his family after he was named a person of interest in the protest.

However, they were forced to stop in Texas when police were inspecting passing buses for runaway Cold Constructs. Here, they met Ian Hart (Ironhide), a rancher secretly helping Cold  Constructs escape ownership by crossing over into Mexico to start new lives.

Ian, seeing how they ran from the bus, assumed they were young Cold Constructs and immediately took them in and offered them shelter; when they explained their situation, he kept his offer, letting them stay until they had their plans sorted out and paying them for work done on his ranch in the meantime.

All three of them grew fond of him and spent a month working on his ranch, helping out equally between his longhorn cattle and the Cold Constructs who would come in scared, starving, and seeking refuge from bounty hunters looking to bring them back to the establishments they were assigned to.

Someone however, had gotten wind of Ian’s clandestine operation, and the man was arrested during a midnight raid, though not before he flung Ben, Charlie and Memo into a secret basement with three Cold Constructs who he told them to help cross the border the next day.

They did as they were told, but decided to return to the ranch to figure out how to help Ian, and when they came back there, it was to come face to face with two strangers who were also seeking Ian after seeing him on the news.

These strangers introduced themselves as Omar Parvez (Optimus Prime), Jace Zayden (Jazz) and Preston Wan (Prowl), members of a rebellion that had sprung up in the UK, and upon hearing that they had been with Ian for the past month, requested for their help in tracking the man down to save him from a terrible fate at the hands of government interrogators.

Realising that they were now caught up in something bigger than they ever imagined, Ben nonetheless accepted the request, unwilling to stand back and do nothing while a good man suffered.

Youth, size and a lifetime of abuse would not be an obstacle to him helping someone else, especially with his best friends  by his side.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 24 part two

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Arguing

After enjoying a tense  afternoon with Lan Xichen, Wei Wuxian comes home to enjoy a tense evening with Jiang Cheng. He pauses in the doorway as he takes in Jiang Cheng’s mood and decides which metaphorical mask he will put on to interact with his shidi. As someone who grew up with explosive people, I find this routine very familiar. 

Wei Wuxian is always carefully playing a role as he interacts with the people in his life. Clearly he has read the classic sociology text The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life and is using it as a how-to guide. We see him do this same calculation over and over, in which he reacts internally to a situation, comes to a decision about what persona to inhabit, and then dons that persona. It’s a typical abuse survival tactic and...it is exhausting. 

This is why I think his leaving to be alone for a while in Episode 50 is a good thing. Being alone isn’t better than being with someone else, usually, but for Wei Wuxian, who is (by Episode 50) assured of love but not sure where he belongs in his own life, being by himself for a while is going to be the best thing for him. He can learn how to just be a person, instead of constantly trying to mold himself to fit everyone around him. 

For the current tense situation, Jiang Cheng is polishing his sword, which, incidentally, is slang (in English, not necessarily in Chinese) for masturbating. Which makes their conversation about how frequently it needs doing kind of a hoot. “One time a month should do,” per Wei Wuxian. 

Jiang Cheng yells at Wei Wuxian--fairly, really--for being drunk all the time and not working on clan tasks. Then he responds to a hug attempt by shoving Wei Wuxian and knocking him down. JC asks WW if he’s too drunk to manage his spiritual power. Now, we know that he doesn’t have any spiritual power to manage, and that’s the main point of this interaction. But it also shows us something else about their dynamic. 

This was just a quick hit, and when it takes WWX out, JC asks why he isn’t responding with spiritual power.  Which means that apparently *every* time Jiang Cheng gives Wei Wuxian a shove or a shoulder check, or strikes him--like he’s been doing constantly since Episode 3--he’s putting spiritual power behind it. That’s...really harsh. 

Jiang Cheng wants Wei Wuxian to fight back, and Wei Wuxian can’t; this is a big part of why their relationship breaks down. Casual blows loaded with spiritual power are part of their vocabulary, and Wei Wuxian can’t speak that language any more, even for basic defense. He’s literally not safe having simple interactions with Jiang Cheng now, because he’s secretly disabled, and Jiang Cheng is casually injuring him whenever he gets too close. 

(more after the cut!)

This time Wei Wuxian has had enough, and raises Chenqing to Jiang Cheng, who immediately backs off. Jiang Cheng has seen that thing in action, not just on the battlefield, but in a small room full of whatever remained of Wen Chao when they were done with him. He takes this as a serious threat, and backs off, disturbed and puzzled and hurt.

Jiang Cheng thinks the change in Wei Wuxian is coming from apathy, not from disability, and so he misunderstands it over and over.  Think of a friend saying “whatever, I’m sick of arguing with you, do what you want.”  Jiang Cheng is very ready to feel rejected, and not at all ready to look at Wei Wuxian’s behavior and try to actually understand it. 

Crying Over You

Wei Wuxian bails and goes to see Jiang Yanli in the ancestral hall, where she is polishing a name plaque. I turned the gamma way up to see whose it is and...I dunno. This character might be 江 (Jiang), I guess?

Jiang Yanli is the only one of the trio who knows how to mourn properly, in that she is taking some time to sit and be sad. Mourning the dead--both ritually and just in the emotional sense--is as important a part of reclaiming Lotus Pier as the training of disciples and having good times on the lake.

She asks him about his fight with Jiang Cheng and he says he’s used to fighting with him. Jiang Yanli asks him if he’s tired of living there, and Wei Wuxian deflects and deflects, saying “it’s my home, where else would I go?” and that if Jiang Fengmian hadn’t adopted him he would still be begging in the streets. He says “no matter what happens, I won’t leave Lotus Pier,” which is not an answer to her question.

It’s also not true. Like so many of his promises, it’s an expression of his wishes, with no space for the surprises real life is made of. He promises her that he won’t be reckless again, and asks her not to be mad at him. She says she can’t be mad at him, and then they share a flashback about Jiang Fengmian finding him on the street. This is a story, not a memory; Wei Wuxian can’t remember but he remembers her telling him about it. Jiang Yanli wasn’t there, in the moment. So this is her telling the story as it was told to her, probably by Jiang Fengmian. 

Flashback Time

In the flashback, picky salad-hating Wei Ying is out on the street, looking for food in a cartload of pretty okay scraps. I mean, yeah, skip the tomatoes, but most of the greens look fine.  

He’s found and fed by Jiang Fengmian, who recognizes him and decides to take him in. 

Within a couple of episodes, we will see Wei Wuxian paying this favor forward, saving someone he finds starving on the street. Just like Jiang Fengmian, he's going to upset and disrupt his family in order to help someone for whom he feels a deep connection.

During this flashback we get a look at Jiang Fengmian’s sword, and it is a beauty. 

What is Love

As the flashback ends, Wei Wuxian is smiling, hearing Jiang Yanli tell this touching story of starvation and orphanhood. She tells him he was born with a smiling face, and that he never minds much about sorrowful things; no matter how bad the situation is, he is always happy. Way to reinforce that metaphorical mask he’s wearing over his deep, deep despair, sis!

They talk a bit about Jiang Cheng’s bad temper.  Then Jiang Yanli says now that her parents are gone, they three are the closest in the world, and he responds by putting his head down on her knee and theatrically saying he’s hungry. But he’s crying for real, and so is she.

Then he decides to ask her why people fall in love, basically, and claims that he does not have anyone in his heart. He says there’s no need to like a person that much, that it’s like “haltering your own neck,” according to Netflix. Let’s have a look at that figurative language for a second, and what’s missing from the Neflix translation. 

What he says is (as near as my qhanzi.com skills can make out) “這不就是自己給自己脖子上套犁拴韁吗” which Google tells me means "Isn't this just putting a plow on my neck with a rein?" The part of the image that’s missing from Netflix subs is the plow, and the hard labor and animal servitude involved in pulling a plow. This isn’t a pro-romance image.

He’s clearly thinking about Lan Wangji when he lies about having no-one in his heart, but right now the yoke that he wants to escape has nothing to do with Lan Wangji. The person he’s harnessed to in a team, the person who he labors with, the person he wants to escape, is Jiang Cheng.  What’s chafing his neck is the promise he made, to stay and serve as one half of a pair, when he can no longer pull his weight. 

Busted

Speaking of Jiang Cheng, he is hanging around outside the shrine, listening to the conversation. Wei Wuxian busts him, pointing out not that eavesdropping is bad, but that it’s bad for grownups. Jiang Cheng points out that he’s the master of Lotus Pier so he’s allowed to go anywhere he wants.

(I love how he looks framed by this giant lotus behind him)

We Wuxian has another of those moments where he assesses the best approach to Jiang Cheng before responding. 

Then he picks a fake fight with him about soup.  Yanli comes out and tells them both to grow up, saying that JC is losing his demeanor as clan leader. He jokingly fixes his already-perfect robe ad they all have a chuckle.

Then Jiang Cheng reminds Wei Wuxian of his promise for the millionth time, and Jiang Yanli goes to make soup for the millionth time. As soon as the boys see that she’s gone, the smiles drop right off of their faces. They’re both performing their typical relationship dynamic for Jiang Yanli.

Being Reasonable

The brothers repair to the main hall, and stand behind the lotus throne looking out of this complicated wall/doorway thingy, while they talk about Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan. 

Jiang Cheng is being mature and sensible here, trying to give Jiang Yanli what she wants and also explaining very, very basic political stuff to Wei Wuxian, who is too caught up in his hate boner for JZX to want to think about the bigger picture. He also thinks that Jin Guangyao is a nicer person, but Jiang Cheng says that nice doesn’t matter.  

Wei Wuxian is getting a full head of steam going about what a jerk JZX is, when Jiang Cheng makes him actually stop and think, by pointing out that it’s not for them to forgive or not forgive Jin Zixuan’s past behavior; it’s up to Yanli.

Wei Wuxian sees the reasoning in this, and starts to say he can’t understand why Yanli chose to like this person, but then he stops himself and goes through a rapid series of thoughtful, uncomfortable expressions. 

Perhaps he’s realizing that he himself has chosen to like an infamously stuck-up, fancy cultivator, albeit one with no soup-related character deficits.

Library Time

The stuck-up cultivator in question is currently in the Cloud Recesses library, where he has snuck into the forbidden books room, against his uncle’s express command, for the purpose of helping Wei Wuxian. The forbidden books room is an entire basement floor of the library; it probably has more books than the not-forbidden part of the library, since the main floor needs space for the restrooms, circulation desk, and copy machines.

(Did OP photoshop the Wangxian-in-the-Library porn picture onto Lan Wangjis’ book? She did.)

A couple of other Lans come along and see the main door unlocked. The lock is a big fish that probably uses magic for locking; it definitely doesn’t use a key. One of them steps in the doorway, glances back and forth without walking through, and does not check the secret door to the forbidden vault. Gosh, how did Su She and/or Jin Guangyao  ever manage to steal secrets from this highly secure location, wow.

Lan Wangji hears the Lan disciple on guard duty say “don’t tell Hanguang Jun about this!’ and has a series of microexpressions that might indicate some kind of feeling about simultaneously being a rule breaker and a rule enforcer.  

Boat Time

We end with an idyllic scene on the lake in Lotus pier, where a new batch of disciples is harvesting lotuses and learning the opposite of boat safety. 

Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are having a good time, and seem utterly carefree; both of them are good at living in the moment, or faking it. 

Wei Wuxian thinks, in voiceover, that it seems that it’s not so hard to go back to the old days. Uh...ok.

Except he’s hiding a massive secret and these replacement kids are not the same juniors he used to hang out with, and he can’t actually teach them cultivation, since he has no socially-acceptable magic power, and everything is about to go to shit in the next episode. But you gotta take your joy where you can, I guess. 

Note: There are a lot of questionable effects in The Untamed, but there are also beautiful scenes like this one, which looks like a Maxfield Parrish painting. Compare with the BTS below and you can see what a good job the VFX team did in bringing this lake to life. 

[shepard-ram]

Antidote for the Lovesick [Antarctic Empire!Wilbur x Reader]

(Fluff, Not a request: Another one inspired by light anons asks- anyways I'm planning on working on my requests again after this. School will be out for the year soon so I will be writing more in a few weeks!)

----------

While the Royal family was well known by default, (and fairly well liked as far as monarchies go) none were as popular as the prince second in line for the throne. It seemed he made for the public eye, able to talk himself out of any situation. With the handful of poems and songs that made it to the people rumors and half-jokes that he must be part siren stired around him. There's no doubt that even without his crown he would have made himself an adored public figure.

It doesn't take much thought to see why prince Wilbur was a star in the empire's negotiations. The Emperor himself was a close second but he was often more fussed about internal affairs. The crown prince was intimidating and a genius when it came to battle, but all that confidence melted when it came to social interactions. Meanwhile the youngest prince... let's just say he hadn't developed the filter needed for the job.

So the poet prince sat at the table and charmed his way into countless treaties and alliances. Needless to say he got very friendly with many rulers and ambassadors alike. The more connections the better after all, but it was only a matter of time before the wrong person got a little too attached.

It was a simple meeting with some local nobles, and one enchantress. It could be It's own story. One starting with the prince's usual banter and a crush forming in its wake, but ending in a turned down confession and alot of shouting. By the time he retired to his bed a soon to be revealed curse was taking its hold.

That morning was filled with emotions and panic. At first he wanted to believe it was nothing more than a sore throat. However the more he tried to make any sound the more he was forced to accept what had happened. His voice was turned to a screech akin to a horse being stabbed. He desperately attempted to sing, only producing a sound that sounded as painful was it was to make. He wasn't just silenced, his voice was replaced with the one of dying demons.

His younger brother was the first he ran into. At first the youngest laughed, after all it was one hell of a noise, but he soon realized just how shaken the poet was. From there it was very quick, how the news spread to the rest of the family. The youngest still didn't stop trying to make fun of his brothers situation. But soon the royal doctors where at his bed chambers with whatever potions and medicines that they thought could ease the affliction.

As soon as they came they left without the barest hint of success. As much as the winged Emperor would've preferred to keep this a private matter it was clear they needed as much talent as possible. They needed more ideas and the skills to make a cure to the curse. So an invention spread to every city and almost every town. It was a simple one, explaining the princes condition and offering a hefty reward to anyone who could put an end to it.

This little piece of paper changed your life.

You were a rather young alchemist, specializing in all remedies natural and magical. The money stood out to you more than most. You weren't starving by any means, but no one in your little rural home town was exactly rolling in cash. Before you knew it you were packing up your things and getting the final "good bye"s and "good luck"s from your family and friends as you set off to the capital.

You weren't the first one to try, not at all. In fact you were one of last with the confidence to try. The thing is, you didn't have the herbs you planned to use.

"Why wouldn't you have them ready?!" You understood why the crown prince was on edge, things were looking more and more hopeless with each attempt. You stayed calm and explained it The best you could.

"The plants I need can be very precise with the conditions they need to grow in, and are often conned on the market. I trust my own abilities more than a salesman looking to make a quick buck." You knew your words reached the trio listening to the pitch, so you made your request. "All I need is the space to grow them and time, they'll take about two months at most. Maybe the royal garden?"

They shared a glance, but it seemed they already had the answer decided.

"How much space do you need?"

You quickly got to work, preparing the soil for the medicine and writing down some notes about the exact qualities of the future remedy. By sunset you were tidying up the servants quarters they had provided so you can stay close the growing ingredients.

On one of your first evenings you were tending to the young plants. That was until you heard a heavenly sound drifting from the other side of the garden. At first you just enjoyed the background music while finishing up your current occupation. As soon as you could you put your watering can down you stood up, very eager to track down the source of the wordless lullaby.

It was a painting, the clouds of bushes more than tall enough to hide the silent signer sitting in the middle of them. The grass while not gone completely was worn out, a clear sign the prince sat in the almost enclosed ring often. You stood in the opening of a leafy doorway. Watching in awe as he played a guitar, eye's closed with so much ease you'd believe it was creating the music by itself.

Eventually the music faded, and in a kick of humor you clapped. Startled he jumped to his feet, calming down a little when he saw that you didn't look at all hostile.

"Sorry for the surprise, my prince." You marked with a small bow. You didn't miss the little uncomfortable look that flashed across his face. "But I couldn't help but notice your song, it's absolutely amazing." You offered with a light voice. "I- I get the rumors now." You could tell you caught his interest with that. "Can you play some more for me, these plants grow faster and better with the company of music."

Rather or not that's just a myth you weren't entirely sure, but with a small smile he honored the request. He followed you out of his little hedge room and closer the area you were tending to. Sitting on a nearby bench watching you work on the newest attempt to reclaim his unnatural voice.

"How about I get to know my patient a little?" The music hiccuped in its players curiosity, silently prompting you to continue. "I ask you some questions, yes or no ones. It might be helpful when it comes to fine-tuning this" you gestured to the dirt that would soon be covered with fully grown medicinal plants. In return he gave his first answer, a nod.

Over the days you grew fond of the routine you fell into. Sometimes you would be asking questions, looking up from the garden to catch his answer. Sometimes you would be telling him stories from your home, about the many people who have come to you for remedies. Sometimes there would be no words, just the gorgeous calming sounds of his music. You could both feel how comfortable this was.

"Would you prefer if I called you only Wilbur?"

A happy nod.

Only Wilbur was very different from prince Wilbur. You've always thought of the prince as this fox, prideful and cunning and charming in untrustworthy ways. But only Wilbur wasn't on this higher devine level, he was a person. A person with passions and vulnerabilities. Only Wilbur melted ideas about himself you didn't even realize you harbored. You liked only Wilbur, that was certain.

You made a promise to both yourself and to him that day. You would lift the curse, you had to.

It had been 43 days, the herbs were ready. "Maybe music did make them grow faster" you entertained. It was the only day you were with the plants without Wilbur. He was in his bed chambers so you could focus on brewing.

You looked over your notes thousands of time over. When you took this job you knew it was going to be one of your most important ever, but now you weren't just curing a prince- you were curing a friend. You paused in setting up your equipment. The term friend felt, incorrect with how exactly you felt about Wilbur. You shoved down the thoughts and continued, now was not the time.

Was it hours, or was it a few minutes? You couldn't tell and you didn't care. In a glass bottle you held the product of your labor. Corked and wrapped in many clothes before being nestled in your bag just to be safe. You took a deep breath and set off for Wilburs room.

He hesitated taking the bottle from you, like he had grown attached to his own silence. When he did take the potion it was all still slow and methodical. As if taking the cork off wrong could ruin everything. It felt like your entire body was on stand-by, paused as he downed the entire container. With a small drink of water he waited for a minute.

Then with a little nod from you, he hummed. The simple notes never sounded so rich and deep, filled with over a month of built up thoughts and emotions. Two faces lit up hearing it.

"You- you really did it." Wilbur was so quiet. As if speaking too loudly could break the newly repaired sound.

Then laughter, and the rambling of words that didn't need to make sense. Because you could hear them.

Then a hug, one of so much more than gratitude. One accompanied with an over abundance of "Thank you"s.

"How could I ever make this up to you" He only now slowed down, only enough to take your input.

Looking over at a familiar instrument you gave that input to him, "Can you play some more for me, my prince." He chuckled, a sound that you already loved as he sat back down on the bed with his guitar.

You recognized the song. It backdroped your first siting of him. Only now did you finally hear it in its entirety. It was a love song. Lyrics sweet and sincere and raw all rolled up by the accompanying strumming. When the last cord drifted off he looked at you, eagerly awaiting your response.

"If I understood the rumors then, now I just might be a believer." How much of that was exaggeration, you honestly couldn't say.

"I'm assuming that's good."

"Trust me, it's more than good." Watching as put the instrument back. "You should probably go tell the others the good news. Especially so I can get my money" you added jokingly. With that you got one last hug and thank you before you both left the room.

As you were walking back to your room something hit you. The realization that this was over. You were going to your temporary room and packing up so you could leave. You never expected to bond with the prince this much, and in the moment you regretted it. If only a little. You swallowed the sudden mood shift and started packing.

"Hey where are you going!?" An already familiar excited voice rang out, running towards you.

"I'm getting ready to leave." You said, bluntly.

"Wait, really?" As if he didn't know you weren't moving in permanently. Without thinking he grabbed your arm like you trying to run away. "We're having a big feast tonight, to celebrate your achievement. You should probably be there."

"That sounds great." You could feel the wave of sadness fade off.

"I thought I always sound great." You chuckled.

"I really wish I could deny that."

"No you don't."

"Only because I wouldn't get my money if I could."

"Come on, that's not the only reason."

"Like it's any secret I care about you."

That put an end to his humor, "Here, let's get ready."

[kingandfireheart]

The Lady of the Autumn Court: what the fuck is happening in Autumn (part 2)

As I said in my Eris Vanserra post, it seems that the Lady of the Autumn Court is a bigger piece to the Eris and Lucien puzzles.

We don't know what the fuck has been happening in the Forest House but we do the following:

The Lady of the Autumn Court is/was extremely powerful

Lucien (and to some extent Eris) are mama's boys (even though Lucien has been exiled for centuries)

The Lady met Helion before she was married to Beron

At least one of the seven brothers - Lucien - is Helion's child, but Helion saved the Lady after she had already had some kids (so Eris probably isn't his, even though they both have amber eyes)

The Lady chose to stay with Beron

Beron is aware of the affair between Helion and the Lady

Beron is physically abusive towards the Lady and had tortured Eris

Helion does not know Lucien is his heir, but Eris seems to know Lucien isn't Beron's son

Things that aren't mentioned below the cut, but are interesting:

Eris is the ringleader of the brothers, the commander of Beron's forces, and is Beron's most trusted son (the other three don't even have names)

In ACOWAR, Eris says has never denied Beron anything - except to save Lucien - but is angling for the throne and betraying him in ACOFAS and ACOSF (this reminds me of Lorcan betraying Maeve for her own good in TOG)

Beron wanted to kill Lucien for wanting to leave Autumn and marry Jesminda (this doesn't seem like a good reason if he isn't in line for the throne - or isn't part of their bloodline, but I guess Beron doesn't need a reason to be cruel)

Helion alludes to having trouble at home in ACOSF

The remaining unnamed brothers are all angling for the throne (this reminds me of the Khaganate in TOG and the Cruel Prince)

I got a little carried away with the color coding, but here's every major scene involving and discussing the Lady of the Autumn Court (and some breadcrumbs because I'm convinced SJM is purposeful in her writing)

Rhysand uses the Lady of the Autumn Court taunt Lucien in ACOTAR:

Rhysand’s venom-coated smile grew. “You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.” The color leached from Lucien’s face, but he held his ground. It was Tamlin who answered. “Put your sword down, Lucien.” Rhysand ran an eye over me. “I knew you liked to stoop low with your lovers, Lucien, but I never thought you’d actually dabble with mortal trash.” My face burned. Lucien was trembling—with rage or fear or sorrow, I couldn’t tell. “The Lady of the Autumn Court will be grieved indeed when she hears of her youngest son. If I were you, I’d keep your new pet well away from your father.”

The Lady of the Autumn Court also helps Feyre with one of her tasks:

A door clicked open somewhere down the hall, and I shot to my feet. An auburn head peered at me. I sagged with relief. Lucien— Not Lucien. The face that turned toward me was female—and unmasked. She looked perhaps a bit older than Amarantha, but her porcelain skin was exquisitely colored, graced with the faintest blush of rose along her cheeks. Had the red hair not been indication enough, when her russet eyes met mine, I knew who she was. I bowed my head to the Lady of the Autumn Court, and she inclined her chin slightly. I supposed that was honor enough. “For giving her your name in place of my son’s life,” she said, her voice as sweet as sun-warmed apples. She must have been in the crowd that day. She pointed at the bucket with a long, slender hand. “My debt is paid.” She disappeared through the door she’d opened, and I could have sworn I smelled roasting chestnuts and crackling fires in her wake.

Rhys (while wearing the mask of hte High Lord) uses her to taunt Lucien again in ACOMAF:

“Little Lucien,” Rhys purred. “Didn’t the Lady of the Autumn Court ever tell you that when a woman says no, she means it?”

“Prick,” Lucien snarled, storming past his sentinels, but not daring to touch his weapons. “You filthy, whoring prick.”

Lucien explaining how he was treated since Beron may suspect he's Helion's heir and as we know from Tamlin: future high lords have physical markers:

His jaw tightened. “As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.”

“I’d say that sounds more High-Lord-like than the life of an idle, unwanted son.”

A long, steely look. “Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?”

This may not relate to the Lady of the Autumn Court's relationship with Helion, but I'm gathering all the crumbs (why does Eris hesitate before calling his brothers brothers?)

“You hunted me down like an animal,” I cut in. “I think we’ll choose to believe the worst.”

Eris’s pale face flushed. “I was given an order. And sent to do it with two of my … brothers.”

Eris has no love for Beron (he literally asks Rhys to kill him), but he does seem to protect the Lady during the High Lord's Meeting:

“If you want proof that we are not scheming with Hybern,” Rhysand said blandly to them all, “consider the fact that it would be far less time-consuming to slice into your minds and make you do my bidding.”

Only Beron was stupid enough to scoff. Eris was just angling his body in his chair—blocking the path to his mother.

Helion and Lady of Autumn lock eyes:

The violence simmering off my friends was enough to boil the pool at our toes as the High Lord of Autumn filed through the archway, his sons in rank behind him, his wife—Lucien’s mother—at his side. Her russet eyes scanned the room, as if looking for that missing son.

They settled instead on Helion, who gave her a mocking incline of his dark head. She quickly averted her gaze.

The High Lords discuss the past war:

(also reminder: Eris has Amber Eyes like Helion)

Helion shrugged, the sun catching in the embroidered gold thread of his tunic. “Indeed, though it seems Tamlin is already ahead of me. The Spring Court must be evacuated.” His amber eyes darted between Tarquin and Beron. “Surely your northern neighbors will welcome them.”

Beron’s lip curled. “We do not have the resources for such a thing.”

“Right,” Viviane said, “because everyone’s too busy polishing every jewel in that trove of yours.”

Beron threw her a glare that had Kallias tensing. “Wives were invited as a courtesy, not as consultants.”

Viviane’s sapphire eyes flared as if struck by lightning. “If this war goes poorly, we’ll be bleeding out right alongside you, so I think we damn well get a say in things.”

“Hybern will do far worse things than kill you,” Beron counted coolly. “A young, pretty thing like you especially.”

Kallias’s snarl rippled the water in the reflection pool, echoed by Mor’s own growl.

Beron smiled a bit. “Only three of us were present for the last war.” A nod to Rhys and Helion, whose face darkened. “One does not easily forget what Hybern and the Loyalists did to captured females in their war-camps. What they reserved for High Fae females who either fought for the humans or had families who did.” He put a heavy hand on his wife’s too-thin arm. “Her two sisters bought her time to run when Hybern’s forces ambushed their lands. The two ladies did not walk out of that war-camp again.” Helion was watching Beron closely, his stare simmering with reproach.

The Lady of the Autumn Court kept her focus on the reflection pool. Any trace of color drained from her face. Dagdan and Brannagh flashed through my mind—along with the corpses of those humans. What they’d done to them before and after they’d died

After Nesta makes her speech:

She looked to Beron and his family as she finished. Only the Lady and Eris seemed to be considering—impressed, even, by the strange, simmering woman before them.

After Azriel attacks Eris:

Beron struck—only for his fire to bounce off a hard barrier of my own. I lifted my gaze to the High Lord of Autumn. “That’s twice now we’ve handed you your asses. I’d think you’d be sick of the humiliation.”

Helion laughed

---

Eris, wisely, averted his eyes. And said, “Apologies, Morrigan.”

His father actually gawked at the words. But something like approval shone on the Lady of Autumn’s face as her eldest son settled himself once more.

Thesan rubbed his temples. “This does not bode well.”

But Helion smirked at his retinue, crossing an ankle over a knee and flashing those powerful, sleek thighs. “Looks like you owe me ten gold marks.”

Feyre loses her shit:

Beron shielded barely fast enough to block me, but the wake singed Eris’s arm—right through the cloth. And the pale, lovely arm of Lucien’s mother.

---

The Lady of Autumn was clutching her arm, angry red splattered along the moon-white skin. No glimmer of pain on that face, though. I said to her as I reclaimed my seat, “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes lifted toward mine, round as saucers.

Beron spat, “Don’t talk to her, you human filth.”

Helion tells the story of the Affair:

Helion tapped a finger against the carved arm of his couch. “He played games in the War and it cost him—dearly. His people still remember those choices—those losses. His own damn wife remembers.”

Helion had looked at the Lady of Autumn repeatedly during the meeting. I asked, carefully and casually, “What do you mean?”

--

Helion’s jaw clenched. “The Lady of the Autumn Court was sent to stay with her sisters, her younger children packed off to other relatives. To spread out the bloodline.” He dragged a hand through his sable hair. “Hybern attacked their estate. Her sisters bought her time to run. Not because she was married to Beron, but because they loved each other. Fiercely. She tried to stay, but they convinced her to go. So she did—she ran and ran, but Hybern’s beasts were still faster. Stronger. They cornered her at a ravine, where she became trapped atop a ledge, the beasts snapping at her feet

--

Helion didn’t so much as shift in his chair. “She was still young—though she’d been married to that delightful male for nearly two decades. Married too young, the marriage arranged when she was twenty.”

---

But it was Mor who said coolly, “I heard a rumor once, Helion, that she waited before agreeing to that marriage. For a certain someone who had met her by chance at an equinox ball the year before.”

I tried not to blink, not to let any of my rising interest surface.

The fire banked to embers and Helion threw a half smile in Mor’s direction. “Interesting. I heard her family wanted internal ties to power, and that they didn’t give her a choice before they sold her to Beron.”

--

“How long did the affair last?” I asked. That withdrawn female … I couldn’t imagine it.

Helion snorted. “Is that a polite question for a High Lady to be asking?”

But the way he spoke, that smile … I only waited, using silence to push him instead.

Helion shrugged. “On and off for decades. Until Beron found out. They say the lady was all brightness and smiles before that. And after Beron was through with her … You saw what she is.”

“What did he do to her?”

“The same things he does now.” Helion waved a hand. “Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them.”

I clenched my teeth. “If you were her lover, why didn’t you stop it?” The wrong thing to say. Utterly wrong, by the dark fury that rippled across Helion’s face.

“Beron is a High Lord, and she is his wife, mother of his brood. She chose to stay. Chose. And with the protocols and rules, Lady, you will find that most situations like the one you were in do not end well for those who interfere.

I didn’t back down, didn’t apologize. “You barely even looked at her today.”

“We have more important matters at hand.”

“Beron never called you out for it?”

“To publicly do so would be to admit that his possession made a fool of him. So we continue our little dance, these centuries later.” I somehow doubted that beneath that roguish charm and irreverence, Helion felt it was a dance at all.

But if it had ended centuries ago, and she’d never seen him again, had let Beron treat her so abominably …

The Lucien Paternity Revelation:

While we spoke, I said down the bond, Helion is Lucien’s father. Rhys was silent. Then— Holy burning hell. His shock was a shooting star between us.

I let my gaze dart through the room, half paying attention to Helion’s musing on the wall and how to repair it, then dared study the High Lord for a heartbeat. Look at him. The nose is the same, the smile. The voice. Even Lucien’s skin is darker than his brothers’. A golden brown compared to their pale coloring.

It would explain why his father and brothers detest him so much—why they have tormented him his entire life.

My heart squeezed at that. And why Eris didn’t want him dead. He wasn’t a threat to Eris’s power—his throne. I swallowed. Helion has no idea, does he?

It would seem not.

The Lady of Autumn’s favorite son—not only from Lucien’s goodness. But because he was the child she’d dreamed of having … with the male she undoubtedly loved.

Beron must have discovered the affair when she was pregnant with Lucien.

He likely suspected, but there was no way to prove it—not if she was sharing his bed, too. Rhys’s disgust was a tang in my mouth. I have no doubt Beron debated killing her for the betrayal, and even afterward. When Lucien could be passable as his own of spring—just enough to make him doubt who had sired his last son.

I wrapped my head around it. Lucien not Beron’s son, but Helion’s. His power is flame, though. They’ve mused Beron’s title could go to him.

His mother’s family is strong—that was why Beron wanted a bride from their line. The gift could be hers.

You never suspected?

Not once. I’m mortified I didn’t even consider it.

What does this mean, though?

Nothing—ultimately nothing. Other than the fact that Lucien might be Helion’s sole heir

[pinoy-culture]

before I ask my question, I just wanted to say thank you so so so much for keeping up your blog and consistently giving out information where its readily accessible!!!

maybe this will make me sound like an idiot but to preface, I’m a mixed filipino american. My mom is filipino and some chinese and my dad is some sort of european and puerto rican. i was wondering, in your opinion, do you think it’d be okay for me (eventually) work with diwata and anitos? And how can I start? Ive been trying to communicate with my ancestors and I’ve been looking for books to one day buy (im extremely broke so your blog and any filipino witches i come across is all the info i can get) but i honestly have no clue where to start other than with my ancestors (weird dreams lately but nothing ancestor related i think). i took a DNA test as a gift and it pointed, predominantly, to the Western Visayas so im assuming i should study more on pre-colonial Bisayan culture (my lolas from iloilo so it makes sense i guess) but i also know that “blood quantum” is a colonizer concept so i dont wanna rely on it too much :/ sorry to ramble but pls help lol

First, I'd like to say thank you for following the blog! It really does mean a lot to me to hear from others over the years on how much my blogs have helped them learn about our history and culture.

Now as for working with our diwata and the anito, that is completely ok. The whole blood quantum thing among some Filipinos I honestly don't agree with. As long as you have a family member who is Filipino, you are Filipino regardless of your "percentage" and of how you look. If you have Filipino blood in you, the ancestors are there with you. Even if you weren't raised within Filipino culture or a Filipino household because your parents never brought you up in it, or you are an adoptee like some I've met over the years. Your ancestors are your ancestors regardless. They see you and know you and that is all that matters.

Now there really isn't any book focused specifically on reviving our precolonial beliefs and practices. Yes, some did survive and some even blended in with a form of Folk Christianity in the Philippines. You can see many of the older practices and beliefs still alive, but they have been replaced with Catholic imagery and Saints.

But, in regards actually believing in and worshiping our old deities, doing rituals dedicated to the deity, or even some rites of passage like the Tagalog first menstruation rite of passage, or making carved figures dedicated to the diwata and anito, or performing maganito/paganito or atang to the diwata and anito, majority of Filipinos don't do this, or even know it.

So for being an Anito Reconstructionist, which is a label I personally use for my spiritual beliefs and others have adopted, there really isn't a book for it. A Reconstructionist in other ethnic spiritual paths, such as the Celtic, Roman, Aztec, Kemetic, Greek, Norse, etc., are those who look at historical records to try and piece together what was once practiced and believed in prior to Christianity. Over many years, these different spiritual paths have eventually come together, formed a community, and have resources like books and teachers. They have had the time to do all the research and put together a more formal spirituality based on those Pre-Christian beliefs and bringing it to the modern day where they have hundreds to thousands of people who have gone back to those beliefs. With some, they have even created temples, shrines to their deities, and even have celebrations.

Unfortunately that is not the case for us. However, due to the growing interest in our precolonial beliefs and practices over the years, I can see Anito Reconstructionism growing within the next several years. It already has, with many people actually trying to learn more about these beliefs and our old deities. The amount of people of people I've seen and talked to who have expressed their interest to reclaim these precolonial beliefs and practices is nothing compared to 10 years ago when it was hard to even find one or two people who did.

It is why I've been writing this book for a few years now dedicated to helping others in wanting to reclaim our precolonial beliefs and practices as a starting point in their research. For now though, I always recommend those who are starting to simply just read the historical texts. Grab a notebook and write down notes. Organize your notes into deities, rituals, how to make an offering, any prayers to a specific deity, how to set up an altar, etc.

Seeing as your family is from the island of Panay in the Western Bisayas, like my moms side are from, I would start with looking at the Bisayan precolonial beliefs and practices. A really good reference is reading Francisco Alcina's History of the Bisayans (1668). Volume 3 is available online in English which you can find here. Volume 3 goes into a lot of detail in the beliefs and practices. The Boxer Codex, if you are able to get a copy of the English translation, is also really good reading material.

Getting Started:

In terms of getting started, keep in mind that there is no one monolithic belief system or practice in the Philippines. Before there ever was a Philippines, we were different nations with different beliefs and practices. It is important to know your ethnic groups beliefs and practices and know their history. For example, I am Bisaya (Akeanon specifically) and Tagalog and that is what I work with. Others who I know follow the Bikolano, Kapampangan, or Ilokano beliefs. Though there are some similarities, each ethnic group had their own set beliefs and practices.

I often tell people that you can't just mix and match between them. For example, though I work with both the Tagalog and Bisayan pantheons, I wouldn't dare do a ritual offering to both a Tagalog or Bisayan deity at the same time. It's always separate. You also can't combine 2 similar deities together from different ethnic groups just because they share similar attributes. It's just rude and disrespectful.

Start out small. Set up an altar dedicated to your ancestors. If you have any family members who have passed, put a photo of them on the altar. Leave offerings of rice cakes such as suman, food like chicken adobo, or even a cup of drink such as tuba, lambanog, or even Red Horse beer. But if you can't get access to an alcoholic drink either because one you are a minor or 2 it's not available where you live, you can simply replace it with a non-alcoholic drinks like coconut juice. Get a coconut shell or a seashell to either place these offerings as bowls/plates or even use them to put your kamangyan or incense.

Then start researching how our Bisayan ancestors worshiped and practiced. Study the history and read historical accounts, books, and articles about them. Write down what you have learned on these precolonial beliefs and practices and reconstruct or revive them. This is what Polytheistic Recinstructionists do. I have listed links to these texts here.

Ask questions to your family, particularly your elders. See if they know of anything or if they can share some traditional practices and beliefs they know of have heard of. You would be surprised how, despite some families being really religious, many still believe in the spirits, do some form of ancestor veneration, believe in omens that are being told to you by the ancestors or spirits, etc.

If you can, try to go back to the Philippines and see your family's ancestral home, see where they grew up, etc. Ask about family stories and folk stories. For example, my mom grew up in Aklan and has always told me stories of the aswang and certain omens. She also constantly talks about the mischievous "little people" who play tricks on you (for example putting something down like your keys and then it goes missing, until you find it again somewhere else). In the Western Bisayas, they are known as kama-kama. There is also a story of how her grandmother's cat visited her during her wake. The cat was missing for years, but it came back and stayed sleeping on top of the casket for days before it left. My mom told me that it was the cat paying their respects to her grandmother.

Keep in mind also and acknowledge our indigenous communities who have kept their beliefs and practices. Don't try to take them into your own. I have seen people cherry pick things from the Manobo of Mindanao or the Kalinga in the Cordillera, which is just disrespectful. Many of the IP, though some still have kept their beliefs, it isn't the most important aspect to them. What they are most concerned about are other issues such as losing their homes due to occupation by oil or logging companies, other settlers such as the Tagalog and Bisayans (especially in Mindanao), getting targeted as "rebels" by the Philippine military and often getting killed. But, by cherry picking beliefs especially of the IP groups, it's just disrespectful.

I will be teaching classes on Anito Reconstructionism soon and will have my first class possibly at the end of the month or next month. I decided to do these classes seeing as there is a growing community who are interested, but don't know where to start. I'll be doing a proper announcement on these classes real soon so look out for the announcement and hopefully you will be able to join!