#i am a prophet /j

[miningroseakira]

TRAFFIC LIFE REAL NOT FAKE?????

my prediction on Perry's life series prediction whiteboard... it came true.... /hj

[alittleemo]

guys I cannot believe I’m writing this but I had another dream abt linkedin boy. I appreciate gods commitment to sending me neon signs but I’m still not going to listen <3

[lotus-duckies]

i'm so sorry

[kavehater]

I’m a descendant of the prophet (kind of) and all I have to show for it is my obsession with an anime blond guy …

[rowanraven08]

IF ITS SASHA I AM GOING TO DIE /POS

In unrelated news: Sasha James for the President for the new IT manager. Like to charge, reblog to cast. 😘

[markscherz]

This might be a weird question but I can't think of a better person to ask! My nibling recently came out as non-binary and wants to change their name, but they're struggling to find something they are happy with.

They were given a feminine name at birth and are currently using a masculine name, but aren't happy with either of them. Every human name that's suggested to them is either too masc, too femme, or has poor associations. However, they love frogs, so I wondered if that might be a solution.

I've tried to find frog names that might work as a human name, but so far I'm not having much luck. It's not allowed to start with R or J, and apparently it's not allowed to have an X in it because nibling thinks they're "not cool enough" to carry that off (I've tried explaining that they're wrong, but 16 year olds are very sensitive).

If this isn't too weird a question, can you think of any frog or toad names that might be manageable as human names? We live in the UK for reference

So many thanks for even reading this giant info dump 💕

Wow this is only the second time I have gotten to help find a name for a human. What an honour.

Okay firstly, sounds 100% like your nibling is cool enough to use an X (despite my current negative emotions associated with the letter due to the Elongated Muskrat), and there are some *amazing* names out there with X's in, so they should at least consider them. Scinax and Ixalus for instance are great. Ixalus has a fun history: originally it was coined as a replacement name for Orchestes, which wasn't available because there was already a beetle genus called Orchestes. But then it turned out that Ixalus was *also* not available, because the world's most beautiful antelope, the bongo, was already called Ixalus. Only, the bongo had already been called Tragelaphus. So now Ixalus isn't the name used for *any* animal. Ixalus is Greek, meaning 'bounding, springing, spry'. Also there are numerous other frog genera that use the ending -ixalus, such as Heterixalus, Micrixalus, etc.

But, taking the lack of X seriously, here are some other alternatives. I will avoid names that are derived from other people's names, and focus on names that have a neutral ring to my ear, and are also euphonious (nice to say or hear) and fewer than four syllables. I am also only considering genus names, because there are too many species names to choose from:

Acris — meaning sharp, sour, bitter, pungent, sharp, keen, acute, energetic, eager, etc. Technically this is the feminine version of the adjective; the neuter version is Acre, but I do not think anyone would read 'Acris' and immediately think either gender. It is supposed to be pronounced with a long a, as in 'hard', but a lot of people pronounce it with a hard a as in 'ace'. This name is most familiar to Americans, because Acris are cricket frogs, widespread in the US.

[Acris crepitans, src]

Mantis — of course, the genus Mantis was coined by Linnaeus in 1758, and so it is unambiguous that this is not a frog name. However, it is very often used as part of frog taxonomic names, such as Chiromantis, Boehmantis, Guibemantis, Gephyromantis, Phlyctimantis etc. Mantis is Greek (μάντης), and means oracle, prophet, soothsayer, seer, clairvoyant, or fortune teller. The name has the feminine gender in its language of origin, but that has no bearing on its use, which, barring the character in the Marvel movies, does not seem particularly gendered to me.

[Pristimantis cruentus, src]

Dasypops — simply a delightful name, but probably not neutral enough. I have not been able to figure out what the etymology is; it might be a play on Dasypus, the Greek word meaning 'rough-footed', which is a genus of armadillos. The frog is also spectacular, but there are no photos I can legally share on tumblr.

Kaloula — a euphonic name with an unclear meaning. Very round frogs. I love them.

[Kaloula pulchra, src]

Adelotus — means 'unseen'. These are 'tusked frogs'. Males have crazy extensions of lower jaw bones, and they fight with them.

[Adelotus brevis, src]

Taruga — a Sanskrit name meaning 'tree climber'. I fucking love this name, and the frogs are just *chef's kiss* POINTY, and have really committed to bold colours.

[Taruga eques, src]

EDIT: I have been informed that taruga means ‘blockhead’ or ‘numb skull’ in Spanish, so it might not be the best choice. Sorry!

If the nibling would like to check out a list of genera themselves, there is a tolerably complete list here.

I hope this helps!

[hobiespick]

Sam Winchester x reader headcanons part 3

<33

a/n: heyyyyyy I had so much fun writting these. I am literally shaking as we speak cuz i'm still kinda shy abt this even tho yall showed me sm love and gave so much positive feedback on the first 2 parts I was giggling, blushing, and twirling my invisible phone cord. Thank you all so much for everything and enjoy my shitty thoughts 🫶💞 + tagging a lovely person who gave me the idea of writting one of these @yinorathedragontamer

Summary/Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Sam Winchester x gn!reader , Sam being the biggest boyfriend of all boyfriends (im quoting one of my moots), the first headcanon isn't sam x reader it's Jess x Sam (rip to the hottest couple) the headcanon came to me in a prophetic vision and i just had to leave it here, mention of Sam's childhood + I couldn't help myself but make a few headcanons about Dean too.

- I have a deep feeling (i'm an empath) that around college when he was with Jess and he wouldn't leave her side, Sam accidentally got adopted by her girl group of friends - hear me out - he would cling to Jess for his dear life shaking and not wanting to intrude or make him look nosy and Jess's girlfriends wouldn't bat an eye, welcoming Sam with open arms and treating him the same - they are the reason his guilty pleasure is gossiping. One of Jess's (girl)friends coming hurriedly towards the group with a shocked expression and a hand covering her mouth and Sam already knows the tea is scrumptious - he probably got called "girl" so many times - he didn't mind it btw, actually kinda liked it because that means they included him - spreading my "Sam Winchester enjoys the company of female friends more than male ones agenda" like wildfire ‼️ - "wyd when me and my gang pull up" and it's five y2k girls + a preppy blonde girl whose boyfriend is some 6'4 emo kid with a Green Day tee who follows her around with heart eyes

- "Dean, move your leg or I'm throwing your fucking mixtapes out of the window" you threaten annoyed at the audacity of the long ass older Winchester to just stretch out as if you're not both (tired af) in the back seat of baby, you try to find a comfortable position for what feels like the 50th time to stay for a few hours untill all of you make it in one piece to Washington (Dean might not since he is acting like that). "You touch my mixtapes and I might throw you out of the window, runt." Dean barks (lovingly), lifting his sunglasses on his head and pointing a defensive finger at you. You are too tired to think and to retort something snarky back but still settle on rolling your eyes and giving his foot a kick.

Sam is driving like a princess in the front, his legs are streched out with his back comfortably resting against his seat with an arm lazily holding the steering wheel as the wind coming from the rolled window brushes some of his hair on his forhead, all while looking effortlessly handsome. "Don't make me come back there" Sam laughs breaking the character he wanted to play along as (hint: dads on road trips). Sam's pants would catch on fire if he said he was annoyed at your childish bickering with his brother, he found it endearing. It just added to the list of things he liked about you. You gasp a little bit too dramatically and gesture towards Dean "He started it" you grumble. Dean gives you a kick of his own pulling his sunglasses back down and crossing his arms, atleast he retreats his legs giving you enough space to rest yours.

- uses every excuse to touch you (his hands are literally twitching in anticipation to hold yours, or hug you)

- Dean is a classic rock etillist (he learned that from J*hn) but his guilty pleasure is nu metal especially limp bizkit. - he only listens when Sam isn't around. - says he's getting himself a little treat (fancy headphones) with his hard-earned money (poker/credit card fraud) - J*hn introduced him to led zeppelin and Dean feels like he's dissapointing him by not being a carbon copy of him hence his secrecy - So the "guilty pleasure" has deeper roots

- Sam told you he doesn't remember owning a childhood plushie, you fix that

- you open the door and close it with your foot, hands clinging to the bag you're holding to your chest after almost stumbling over. Sam's expression changes into a smile upon your arrival, kinda like a golden reriever. He gets up from the reasearch papers scatterred around the table no longer the center of his attention to greet you.

"Hey" the word 'sweetheart' almost sneaks out of his mouth but he contained himself with grace, god forbid he makes you uncomfortable (he's alot like you y'know? ). "Hi" you reply breathlessly due to your almost stunt and the fact that Dean took Baby out so you had to walk back to the motel in the humid weather of Washington. You take off your shoes and set the bag on the table, Sam's nosy self is itching to see what's inside. Before you open anything you make sure to peel off the hoodie you have on and rest it on a chair. "I got something but i need you to close your eyes and lay out your hands please." You start already bitting back a smile with a tinge of nervousness at what his reaction could be.

Yes, you got Sam a plushie. You got matching ones, the one for Sam is a brown moose with dark brown glass eyes that kept reminding you of him. The one you got for yourself is a same-zise moose plushie in your favourite color. What's even more cuter is that both of the plushies came as a package and they can stick their hands together with the magic of little pieces of square shaped tape on each their hands (hooves?). Sam is scared and excited at the same time. He will thank you for whatever you got him, he raised himself to be gratefull, it's just that growing up he learned and was usually met with dissapointment. John not showing up for his soccer game and neither Dean because he is hunting with him? Yeah he knows. Not even a call from his dad on his 21st birthday? Yeah he expected that. But he knows you, and the amount of times you have dissapointed him. (hint: zero)

So he does as you told him to. He extends his hand and turns it over, his other arm resting by his side. He closes his eyes and does not open them once. Sam was that kinda kid at the playground, so fair and by the rules it's almost suspicious. He can hear the noise of the brown paper bag crinkling and somehow imagine the sight of you smilling brightly, a sight that almost bribes him to open his eyes and see for himself. He focuses on the sound untill he feels the soft velvet material of the plushie in his hands. He doesn't even open his eyes yet he just furrows his eyebrows in confusion as his fingers pet the fabric of the stuffed animal.

You stand there, the biggest most nervous smile planted on your face as you wait for his verdict. "Sam, you can open your eyes now." you speak loud enough for him to hear, and he does open them, they glisten wet under the crappy motel room light. He has this mix of sadness and joy on his face at the same time as he cranes his neck to look down at the stuffed animal in his hands, he can envelope it entirely if he tried. You wish you could read thoughts right now, to make Sam open up his brain to you and show you how he feels about this, whether the reaction is negative or positive, you just want (need) to hear him speak, fuck, he can even yell at you if that is what he chooses to do (he wouldn't in a million years). Regret hits you like a hurricane after a few seconds of silence, that's the last thing you wanted to do, make Sam remember what a shitty childhood he had with just a stuffed animal, a fucking toy. The thought that this could come off as a reminder for him that's like 'Hey buddy, your childhood is so fucked up I felt sorry for you, here' didn't even occur you. All you wanted to do is give him something normal, to make him feel normal, a feeling he has been chasing all of his life. You bought two matching moose plushies with the thought that you're gonna match with your bestfriend, you're going to share some normalacy with your bestfriend in your world, your monsters are real world.

You wanted to build a time machine and rescue little Sam and Dean from the fucking monster John Winchester was. Yes, John Winchester loved his boys, but neglect and love don't mix. Leaving a 10 year old to look out for a 6 year old isn't love, taking your children with you to fucking hunt and kill fairy tale monsters isn't love. "Sam?" You call out quietly, nervousness already visible in your body language. Sam shots his head up at the mention of his name and most importantly the tone of your voice. He gives you a weak tight lipped smile (as if the sight would spare you having to worry about him, as if you don't feel the need to bang your head against a wall whenever you see Sam in any kind of pain) and wipes a tear that runs down his cheek with the cuff of his hoodie. "Sam- I'm sorry- I thought-" You justify yourself and attempt at swallowing the lump formed in your throat, you rub your sweaty palms on your jeans and feel like the biggest asshole in the world. You awkwardly take a step closer untill you take in consideration the idea that getting closer might be the last thing he needs right now so you step right back. Sam tears taste sweet, he can confirm it himself. The way you spent time and money going to provide him with something he was wrongfully stolen off of having when he was only a kid made him tear up in the spam of a few seconds. You asked, he answered, you felt sorry, he desperately wants you to comfort him, then you do something to make him feel appreciated/cherished. He glances at you and sees the state you're in. His legs instinctively take three long strides towards you and envelopes you in the most comforting embrace anyone has ever gave you. You don't need to be psychic or practice insane voodoo/hoodoo to know exactly how this made him feel, it's all in this hug. You hug him back and Sam starts rubbing circles with his index finger on your back, he is crying his eyes out and he's still comforting anyone but himself. You hear his sniffles as he agressively wipes his nose with his cuff. "Thank you" he croaks out, his tone hoarse and raspy. He rests his head on top of yours and you can feel him finally relax. You can also tell he has no intention of breaking the hug anytime soon but that is your last worry. You made Sam happy tonight and that's all it matters.

- you and Sam are the golden retriever + black cat duo the world needs. - grocery trips with him (he doesn't need anything, just wanted to go with you) that are fun and weirdly domestic. - it's all making jokes and finding eachother the snacks you usually eat untill someone bumps into him and HE apologizes. "Sorry" he says giving the dude that's shorter than him a tight lipped smile. The dude presses "Almost dropped my shit 'cause of you assh-" You cut him off by clearing your throat and making him turn around his face dropping as he notices your glare at him. "He said he was sorry." You chide (threaten) with a scarily blunt tone, you have no idea how someone can even dare to look the wrong way at Sam, he's too tall for his own good and he's built like a brick wall. "Whatever" the dude leaves scoffing , your expression softening as soon as your eyes settle on Sam. He has a stupid dorky look on his face and adoration in his eyes, his hands shoved in his jean pockets towering over you almost awkwardly. "Ugh. What is it today asshole day?" You joke breaking the silence, (yes, you're quoting kat stratford) Sam just laughs and nods, you could say it's Christmas and he would believe you. "Looks like it." He agrees, not even caring for that asshole that he could've handled himself just fine, he hunts monsters for a goddamn career. He just adores the way you jumped to take his side.

- expressing your wish to find or atleast thrift a brown carhartt jacket similar to Sam's, only for him to offer giving it to you whenever you wanna wear it. - "S'okay you can wear it i don't mind, you just have to ask me before, yeah?" - he also can't stop blushing at the sight of you in his already baggy jacket appearing more larger on you.

- the jacket engulfs you in this sense of security and an addictive smell of Sam (his fav earthy cologne) - the way you're looking good, happy, and warm in his jacket makes Sam's heart skip a few beats. - Dean smirks and compliments you, having to take a double look to confirm it's infact Sammy's jacket on you "Looking good, Y/n" he smiles and sends Sam a wink you're to oblivious to notice but you do notice the tone he uses, replying back skeptically "Thanks?" but you shrug it off asking Sam if he wants to come with you to this fast food place to bring back dinner.

- When Dean's brain cells put 2 and 2 togheter and realizes you and Sam are absolutely pining for eachother he purposefully does alot of stuff so you're stuck spending time with Sam and vice versa. It's either an easy move to make you two go out/stay in or it's a geniusly absolutely malefically strategically thinked and mastered 50 step plan that has atleast 20 plan B's in case anything goes wrong but we all know he doesn't need them, the mission goes smoothly each time. if Winchesters are anything, it's stubborn, incredibly and stupidly stubborn so Dean is not giving up on making one of you confess to eachother and if you don't he might take matters in his own hands and scream it out loud enough for You and Sammy to hear.

- he is so eager, the first time you kissed him he automatically assumed he's your boyfriend. - "Is that any way to speak with your boyfriend?" With a jokingly hurt face and a dramatically placed hand on his chest when you're being too mean. - "As your boyfriend and your lore boy.." - "I'm Sam, their boyfriend.." when he's introducing himself to person he knows has certain intentions with you or somebody making you uncomfortable.

- you pulled a muscle in your shoulder while on a hunt and stubbornly denied anything ever hurted even when Sam asked. - you keep rolling your shoulder when Sam says "Looks like you pulled something alright. You probably shouldn't move too much, you'll just make it worse." You scoffed at that, no way Sam for real? I had no idea I had to do that, thank god a smart boy like yourself is right beside me. "Are you mansplaining to me how to let a pulled muscle heal?" You retort, mainly because of the pain partially cause mansplaining is unnecessary and ignorant. And when Sam thought he couldn't like you any more than he already does you proved him wrong. He only chuckled, amused by your snarky reply, even going as far as to apreciate your attitude. "I'm not mansplaining anything, I'm just stating facts. Even a five year old could tell you that overusing a muscle will make the pain worse." He teased back.

- He enjoys the intimacy between the two of you when there are jokes and certain things you and him can laugh about because you're both huge nerds.

- Bobby let's you borrow whatever books you want from his huge ass library (mans probably got illegal books there)

- Bobby and Dean give eachother knowing looks whenever you and Sam literally do anything togheter, you and him pretend not to notice, not even mentioning it.

- guys i wanna cuddle with Sam Winchester so bad it's not even funny anymore *sobbing while my eyeliner mixed with tears is running down my face*

- he's a big cuddlebug I am willing to bet all my life savings and my first born he is. - the way you feel so safe and comforted when his light pole build wraps two arms around you, holding you close, trying to get you impossibly closer. - his hugs are the same, tender yet firm reflecting on his gentle nature. - just spoons you when he finds you on the couch sleeping with a bunch of research papers scattered and dusty old books around you which he tosses aside, because he is too proud to ask for cuddles.

- you wake up in the middle of the night you have no idea what time is it, you have one missing sock, your throat is dry, and you feel an arm draped over your waist getting tighter around you the more you twist around. And that's when you hear it, it's right next to your ear, Sam's low sleepy hum as he stirrs behind you, nudging his face deeper into your neck. You have no choice but to lay there untill he wakes up 'cause there is no escaping.

a/n: again i'm posting this shaking, this took so long I was scared I wasn't gonna finish it. They are so long they might not classify as headcanons but i couldn't care less. The plushie one made me feel like hamilton while writting it lmaoo. Hope yall enjoyed!! 💞 feedback would be very much appreciated<33

[stareggie]

—

wolfstar (background jegulus)

chapters: 1/?

—

SUMMARY:

Sirius Black is an Auror and a casanova who, to win a big case, bets that he can make a man fall in love with him in 10 days.

Remus Lupin is a Daily Prophet journalist who, to win more creative freedom, takes on a challenge of writing a piece on how to lose a guy in 10 days

—

omg omg omg it’s hereeeeee, chapter 1 of my how to lose a guy in 10 days fic yayayayayayayyaa

enjoy <3

—

tagging those who liked my post about this, i hope y’all don’t mind: @hugs4prongs @f4llenst44r @spicybearnaise @reptilian-rapscallion @gullyatlas @justotpthingss @artucus-library @macualey @varityamour @nights-making-your-day @xkittyxkattzx @drusruwtk @crypticchild @here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can @canismajorastronomy @willyoubemydarling @starsandheartsstuff @deadchaoticcosmos

[hamdosana]

#DUA List for the First 10 Days of Dhul-Hijjah

a) Dua for the best of both worlds

Rabbana atinafee addunya hasanatan wafee al-akhiratihasanatan waqina AAathaba annar.

Our Lord, give us in this world [that which is] good and in the Hereafter [that which is] good and protect us from the punishment of the Fire.

{Surat Al Baqarah 2 : Ayaah 201}

b) Dua during Distress (Keeping in mind as humans we are never “totally” free from distress,thus making this dua constantly is very beneficial.)

La ilaha il-lallah Al-`Alimul-Halim. La-ilaha illallah Rabul- Arsh-al-Azim, La ilaha-il-lallah Rabus-Samawati Rab-ul-Ard; wa Rab-ul-Arsh Al- Karim.

None has the right to be worshipped but Allah the incomparably great, the compassionate. None has the right to be worshipped but Allah the rub of the mighty throne. None has the right to be worshipped but Allah the rub of the heavens, the rub of the earth, and the rubb of the honorable throne.{Sahih Al Bukhari}

c) Dua for Spouse and Children

Rabbanahab lana min azwajina wathurriyyatinaqurrata aAAyunin wajAAalna lilmuttaqeena imama

Our Lord, grant us from among our wives and offspring comfort to our eyes and make us an example for the righteous.

{Surat Al Furqan 25: Ayaah 74}

d) Dua for Forgiveness and a Beautiful End

Rabbana faghfirlana thunoobana wakaffir AAannasayyi-atina watawaffana maAAa al-abrar

Our Lord! Forgive us our sins and remit from us our evil deeds, and make us die in the state of righteousness along with Al-Abrar (those who are obedient to Allah and follow strictly His Orders).

{Surat Ali Imran 3: Ayaah 193}

e) Dua for Protection against Debt, Oppression, Sadness.

Allahumma Inni A’udhu Bika Minal-Hammi Wal-Hazani Wal-Ajzi Wal-Kasali Wal-Bukhli Wa Dala’id=Dain Wa Qahrir-Rijal

O Allah, I seek refuge in You from sadness, grief, helplessness, laziness, being stingy, overwhelming debt, and the overpowering of men. {Tirmidhi}

f) Dua for Guidance & Protection against harm

Allahumm-aghfir li, warhamni, wa-hdini, wa ‘afini, warzuqni

O Allah! Forgive me, have mercy on me, guide me, guard me against harm and provide me with sustenance and salvation

{Sahih Muslim}

g) Dua for Guidance towards the best of Manners

Inna salati wa nusuki wa mahyaya wa mamati lillahi rabbil-alamin, la sharika lahu, wa bidhalika umirtu wa ana min al-muslimin. Allahummahdini liahsanil-amali wa ahsanil-akhlaqi la yahdi li ahsaniha illa anta wa qini sayy’al-a’mali wa sayy’al-ahaqi la yaqi sayy’aha illa ant.

Indeed my salah (prayer), my sacrifice, my living, and my dying are for Allah, the Lord of all that exists. He has no partner. And of this I have been commanded, and I am one of the Muslims. O Allah, guide me to the best of deeds and the best of manners, for none can guide to the best of them but You. And protect me from bad deeds and bad manners, for none can protect against them but You.

{Sunan An Nasai}

h) Dua for Safety and Wellbeing

Allahumma inni as’alukal-huda wat- tuqa wal-’afafa wal-ghina

O Allah! I ask you for your guidance, piety, safety and wellbeing and contentment and sufficieny.

{Sahih Muslim}

i) Dua for Protection Against Hellfiire

Rabbanaisrif AAanna AAathaba jahannama inna AAathabahakana gharama Innaha saat mustaqarran wamuqama

Our Lord! Avert from us the torment of Hell. Verily! Its torment is ever an inseparable, permanent punishment. Evil indeed it (Hell) is as an abode and as a place to dwell.

{Surat Al Furqan 25: Ayaat 65-66}

j) Dua for confessing your Sins – Dua of Yunus aleyhi salaam.

If you know what verse follows this verse you will never stop making this dua! SubhanAllah. May Allah answer our prayers as He responded to the call of our beloved Prophet Yunus aleyhi salaam.

La ilaha illa anta subhanaka inneekuntu mina aththalimeen

[none has the right to be worshipped but You (O Allah)], Glorified (and Exalted) are You [above all that (evil) they associate with You]. Truly, I have been of the wrong-doers.

{Surat Al Anbya 21: Ayaah 87}

FOLLOWING VERSE -

Fastajabna lahu wanajjaynahumina alghammi wakathalika nunjee almu/mineen

So We responded to him and saved him from the distress. And thus do We save the believers.

{Surat Al Anbya 21: Ayaah 88}

May Allah make us from the believers whom He saves!! Ameen

The Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: “Shall I not tell you of something that, if any worldly calamity or disaster befalls any man among you and he says these words, he will be relieved of it. (It is) the du’aa’ of Dhu’l-Noon: “Laa ilaaha illa anta subhaanaka inni kuntu min al-zaalimeen (none has the right to be worshipped but You (O Allaah), Glorified (and Exalted) be You [above all that (evil) they associate with You]! Truly, I have been of the wrongdoers).” According to another report: “No Muslim man says this du’aa’ concerning anything but Allaah will answer his prayer.”

{Saheeh al-Jaami’ al-Sagheer wa Ziyaadatuhu, 2065}

k) Dua for protection against an oppressor or when you are feeling totally helpless – Dua of Nuh aleyhi salaam

Rabbahu annee maghloobun fantasir

Indeed, I am overpowered, so help(me).

{Surat Al Qamar 54: Ayaah 10}

l) Dua for the best disposal of your Affairs – Dua of Ibrahim aleyhi salaam

HasbunaAllahu waniAAma alwakeel

Sufficient for us is Allah , and [He is] the best Disposer of affairs.

{Surat Ali Imran 3: Ayaah 173}

m) Dua for Job Security + Marriage – Musa aleyhi salaam.

One of my favourite Duaas. This dua ensured Musa aleyhi salaam got a job security for 8-10 years and got him married.

Rabbiinnee lima anzalta ilayya min khayrin faqeer

My Lord, indeed I am, for whatever good You would send down to me, in need.

{Surah Al Qasas 28: Ayaah 24}

n) Dua for seeking Allah’s Mercy

Ya Hayyu Ya Qayyum! Bi rahmatika astagheeth!

O Living, O Self-Sustaining Sustainer! In Your Mercy do I seek relief

{Tirmidhi}

o) Dua for entrusting your affairs with Allah – Dua of Yaqoob aleyhi salaam

Innama ashkoo baththee wahuzneeila Allahi

I only complain of my suffering and my grief to Allah

{Surah Yusuf 12: Ayaah 86}

Waofawwidu amree ila Allahi inna Allahabaseerun bilAAibad

And I entrust my affair to Allah . Indeed, Allah is Seeing of [His] servants. {Surah Ghafir 40:Ayaah 44}

p) Dua for Protection Against Hellfire, Grave & Dajjal

Allahumma inni a’udhu bika min ‘adhabi jahannam, wa min ‘adhabil-qabr, wa min fitnatil-mahya wal-mamat, wa min sharri fitnatil-masihid-dajjal.

“O Allah! I seek refuge in You from the torment of Hell, from the torment of the grave, from the trials of life and death, and from the mischief of Al-Masih Ad-Dajjal (Antichrist).”

{Sahih Muslim}

q) Dua for acceptance of dua!

Rabbana wtaqabbal duAAa

Our Lord, and accept my supplication.

{Surat Ibrahim 14: Ayaah 40}

[corvid-blues]

YOOO EPIC THE MUSICAL x LIFE SERIES AU THINGGG

this post is made specifically for @patches4thechaos no one else (/j)

It’s kind of (???) like a masterpost of this AU, but like badly structured and I haven’t made good reference sheets just some color palettes next to some ok drawings I suppose (I am very much going to redraw them just not soon maybe idk) SO UH HERE ROLES AND WHY I PICKED THEM

Odysseus - Joel

Notes - Idk he was the only one I could safely use because he ACTUALLY HAS A WIFE. Also it’s fun to be different. Though using him as Zeus is also like really fitting. Oh well. You get all the trauma Joel.

Penelope - Lizzie

Notes - I’m sorry Lizzie you’re cool and badass but unfortunately you’re also Joel’s wife and Pen is Ody’s wife. I do like to dream you videotape him killing all the sutiors though.

Telemachus - Hermes 

Notes - I literally have no idea who this guy is except he’s vaguely bird-like from fandom perception and also Joel’s son. But he fits the son role pretty well from what I see. (He’s in Empires btw)

Eurylochus - Martyn

Notes - Bro needs more main roles- Like he’s the least popular Life Series winner (which isn’t a low bar all of them are like super popular) but honestly I made Ren Polities and was like “Welp the only only valid option for Eurylochus is Martyn” and rolled with it.

Polities - Ren

Notes - Ren is a happy-go-lucky joyous boy and I think more people need to recognize that like bro is walking through life confused af but dam happy about it I’ll tell you. Everyone is like “Red King angst angst angst” like he has no idea what’s going on at all times.

Polyphemus - Bdubs

Bdubs is the only viable option for Polyphemus like animal-obsessed and murderous? Who else? Also he has a giant horse demon.

Aeolus - Skizz

Notes - He seems the popular choice, and his goofy demeanor and angelic fandom traits really show why. I have a really vivid mental image of his giant angelic form flapping its wings and pushing the ships with giant gusts of wind. It’s my second favorite moment in all of this.

Circe - Gem

Notes - Actually, I can’t take credit for this one, I saw someone with a different EPIC AU who put her as Circe and using skulk instead of seduction in There Are Other Ways and I was like “GENIUS” and stole it. She fits pretty well.

Hermes - Scar

No other viable option. Especially the fandom meme of Hermes selling drugs to Odysseus, seems like something Scar would do. Also the fun beat and Hermes’s other song “Dangerous” is definitely his vibe like seriously.

Tiresias - Grian

Notes - I have so much unnecessary angsty lore that has nothing to do with actual Tiresias like he was barely twenty when he died but grew up in the underworld, he was forced into being a preist to the Secret Keeper (watcher robes and stuff) and is familiar with a lot of the gods because he’s a prophet. I also have a bunch of desert duo shit (obviously). 

Siren - BigB

Notes - Honestly an arbitrary choice, but my main inspiration was Double Life and how he “pretended” to be Grian’s soulmate. Like, this is a completely different situation but like same concept. Ha you fuck up big time B.

Scylla - Pearl

Notes - Look the giant serpent heads are Pearl’s wolf pack Joel’s head is illuminated but the blood moon reflected in the water before they dock and walk through a dark cave and like his face is bathed in the blood of the moon and in the end the blood of his comrades THE SYMBOLISM. The “drown in your sorrow and tears” LIKE DOUBLE LIFE YALL I CANT.

Antinous - idk honestly

Notes - HE’S EVIL AND A JERK IDK

Calypso - Iskall

Notes - Yoooo our one of our only non-lifers- I guess he doesn’t really count for a Life Series AU but like he was too perfect Calypso being like “Noooo why are you breaking up with me” and Odysseus being like “WE WERE NEVER TOGETHER” real Iskall and Joel coded relationship.

Zeus - The Secret Keeper 

Notes - The only problem with this one is Thunder Bringer because he seems a lot more like just a guy there (an all powerful jerk guy but that’s besides the point) and less like an omnipotent divine deity which is what I was going for with the Secret Keeper in the Horse and the Infant and God Games.

Athena - Cleo

Notes - I saw her sometimes depicted with snake hair like Medusa and ya know Athena turned Medusa into a gorgon so I thought “Hey what if Cleo was Athena and her hair turned into snakes when she’s angry” like in My Goodbye and the “hold your tongue” scene in God Games. I gave her dreads so it’s a smoother transition.

Poseidon - Etho

Notes - Another arbitrary choice! I must blame this on my Ethubs brain like this AU is actually mostly based on Last Life (or at least the relationships) so like red life Bdubs being almost killed by Joel would really piss him off. But also in Limited Life Bdubs is technically Etho’s son so you could take it as that. (Sorry Boat Boys shippers I actually really considered putting him as Calypso)

Apollo - Jimmy

Notes - Now we’re getting into the really arbitrary choices. This was mostly a color match, and Jimmy seems like the kind of guy to own a bunch of cows and throw a hissy fit when one of them is killed. 

Hephaestus - Tango

Notes - Actually, I had Tango for Hephaestus in my head for a while. Idk he just has inventor vibes that would very obviously be angry at Joel’s basically sacrifice of his entire crew.

Aphrodite - Scott

Notes - This was mostly an excuse so I could put Scott in like flowy beautiful clothing also he seems like the kind of guy to be the god of love like bro is very gay.

Ares - Impluse

Notes - I… have no good reasoning for this. Impulse in my head is actually one of the chillest of all the Lifers but he seems like he could get very scary if he was ever actually angry.

Hera - Mumbo

Notes - And here we are, the winner of all the arbitrary choices I made for this AU. Man. Idk he had that one hipster outfit and Hera gives off very 80’s hipster vibes. Maybe that’s what he’ll wear. Huh. This only came to mind like now

This was all supposed to be meant for just me so if it’s confusing then uh sorry

Bam the ok references I have you didn’t expect me to have every character did you naw I’m too lazy for that

Don’t mind the terribly scribbled notes on any of them either pfft um

a couple doodles (Scar cameo lol) (click for full image on the second one)

Looking back on it I made those references MONTHS ago Ren’s cape looks so goofy

Less of a Life Series AU and more of a Hermit-Life-Empires AU um IM STILL CALLING AND TAGGING IT EPIC THE MUSICAL x LIFE SERIES THO

And I swear if you make any fanart tag me or I will hunt you down (/lh) (Probably not gonna be fanart but JUST IN CASE)

[dotthings]

The latest episode of the SPN Then and Now podcast gave us some insight into process during the early days of the Dean and Cas era. I transcribed a few bits to share.

First I really appreciate Rich's appreciation of Dean and Cas: "I love the origin of the Dean and Castiel relationship, I thought it was so engaging to have those two start building that rapport, that yes, maybe you said Misha had said maybe it was a bridge too far, I didn’t see that as a viewer, I just thoroughly enjoyed it, and I felt their connection sort of solidifying in a fun way that felt real and not hyper-dramatic." (This is extra neat considering Rich "I am the prophet of Destiel" Speight Jr directed ep 15.18).

Then there's the commentary from SPN director J. Miller Tobin, which gives us insights into the early development of the Dean and Cas relationship, Jensen and Misha's friendship, and their growing rapport and development as screen partners.

Rich: …to me, this was the first episode where I saw what the Dean Castiel relationship then looked like for the rest of the year.

J. Miller Tobin: It’s funny, then I watched it again this morning, and I kind of had the same feeling. This is sort of old Castiel, and he’s sort of starts to move into where he is for the rest of the series. There’s that shift into sort of the comedic tone in his relationship with Dean, it’s the Dean and Castiel show.

Rich: It really is. This didn’t exist before. It was a tonal shift.

J. Miller Tobin: Right.

Rich: Now I obviously know that some of that some of that must have been in the script. Was any of that something…like the personal space bit, was that scripted? Or was that you guys on the day?

J. Miller Tobin: I don’t remember. I don’t remember.

Rich: It felt like an improv because of the way it was blocked and he turns and there’s that scene…

J. Miller Tobin: That long beat, and again, Jensen is just a master at it, he barely moves a muscle and you’re laughing your ass off already…the truth is you just let those two guys start riffing. They’d known each other long enough now that they were very well aware this was kind of a shift in tone and they had a chance to start to play with it a little bit, and as good actors do it was subtle, and it was easy.

Rich: I just think it’s cool that you got to be the guy to sort of set that framework. Obviously the actors are doing a ton of that work too. But again, bless your hands…

J. Miller Tobin: I just like to get out of the way and let them do what they do best.

-Supernatural Then and Now podcast, April 8, 2024

[chronicallycouchbound]

Guide to interacting with people with psychosis spectrum disorders and psychotic symptoms

If someone who has psychotic symptoms is talking to you about their hallucinations or delusions, do not suggest:

That they are inherently violent or dangerous Why: Statistically, people with psychosis are more likely to be victims of violence, not perpetrators. They are more likely to be killed by police than people without mental illnesses.

That their hallucinations are actually reality and everyone else can’t experience it Why: this can cause further dissonance between reality for the person, especially if they’re actively experiencing symptoms. It can lead to derealization and depersonalization, and exasperate or trigger hallucinations and/or delusions.

That they are a prophet, god, all powerful, etc. Why: along with the above reason of causing further separation from reality, many people with psychotic spectrum disorders experience delusions, one common type of delusion is called delusions of grandeur, which is a specific delusion around perceiving oneself or one’s accomplishments as greatness or of higher status than others. This specific delusion can be dangerous because it can lead to the person believing that they are immune to consequences, including physical harm to oneself. By affirming beliefs of the person being god-like, it can trigger or exasperate this delusion. This is especially common with people who have Bipolar type 1 with psychotic features and they are in manic states.

That they should just meditate Why: Meditation often isn’t safe for people with psychosis! Studies show that unguided meditation is especially risky, because without focusing on reality, people with psychotic symptoms are more likely to have hallucinations, or have depersonalization/derealization.

That you can see/hear it too, when you can’t/lying to agree with their hallucinations Why: This will absolutely exasperate symptoms, also it’s lying and is wrong and a genuinely horrible thing to do. This one should be obvious.

That they should just use cannabis or other psychoactive drugs Why: THC and other psychoactive compounds, can trigger psychotic episodes in people who have or are predisposed to psychosis, and trigger anxiety and hallucinations, which can exasperate symptoms. That being said, individual experiences may differ greatly, and they may be able to use psychoactive substances with no issues, but to suggest it as a cure-all or without a proper understanding of its possible negative side effects can be dangerous. Also, many antipsychotics and other psychiatric medications interact with many psychoactive drugs, so it’s important to know if it’s physically safe for them to use both at once.

Things you can say/do instead!

When actively experiencing symptoms/episodes:

Maintain a calm and steady tone of voice, don’t yell.

Explain what you’re doing before you do it, and try to avoid sudden movements which can scare or jump someone

If they have an action plan, follow it. I also urge you to remember that they’re scared right now. They likely don’t want to hurt anyone, but they’re terrified. Find ways to be safe, preferably that don’t involve police (there are lots of statistics around why this is unhelpful and can be dangerous)

“I understand that you feel scared right now, let’s find ways to be safe through this.” Be supportive! Psychotic symptoms are similar to symptoms of any other mental illnesses, when someone is depressed or anxious, we often reach out with kindness, remember that people with psychosis also need that compassion and consideration.

“We are at [location], I am [name] we are [relationship to person], we are safe” Talking about reality can be really helpful, most people with symptoms need some guidance around basic understandings of reality, affirming what is real can help them distinguish what is and isn’t. An important note, reality checks can sometimes be more harmful than helpful. Usually, a person who needs a reality check will just ask the questions: “Who are you?”, “Where are we?”, Etc.

Sometimes, doing reasonable things to help them feel safer is necessary to help them calm down enough that they stop having severe symptoms. For example, someone who is afraid that people are watching them might want to cover windows and lock doors, help them create a safe space for them mentally by doing that. Some requests might be a bit odd, but harmless, like putting salt in the doorways so demons can’t get in, you can do that, or find alternatives to help them feel safe. It’s important to try to create this safe space while also affirming reality.

Try not to focus on the specific hallucination, but rather on their feelings, for example instead of talking about the demons or details about the demons, talk about their feelings about the demons, and how you can make them feel safer. It can help them feel secure to have someone in reality helping them stay safe while they cope with these scary symptoms.

Ask permission before touching, consent is particularly important for people with psychosis, we are often stripped of our right to consent while in episodes.

Offer snacks, stuffed animals, or other comfort items

When talking about their experiences, diagnosis, or when not in episodes:

Ask how you can be supportive, both in and outside of episodes, some people need help with remembering medications, or someone to call when they’re scared and having symptoms. Sometimes it just helps to be able to explain what they’re going through and have someone just listen. They know their needs best.

Help them come up with a crisis/safety plan for when they have episodes, it can literally save their life, or at least make it more manageable and sometimes less scary.

Check on them if they seem off, have life changes, or are isolating.

Learn their warning signs and help them stay safe before they have episodes, and hopefully prevent them from happening or being more unmanageable.

Offer to do reality checks if that's something that helps them

Offer to do medication reminders ( if you're able to)

I was diagnosed with Bipolar 1 with Psychosis when I was 18. I have many psychotic symptoms including hallucinations, delusions, derealization, and depersonalization. This was written from my own experiences, research, and recommendations from providers. I highly recommend seeking out more information and experiences about psychosis to gain a more comprehensive understanding of it. No guide is one-size-fits-all, and this is definitely incomplete in many ways, but hopefully, this provides some insight or education for you.

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - The Room of Requirement

Words: 791

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

Remus had made a point of avoiding the room. Every time he walked down the corridor and the door appeared in front of him, he kept on walking. He didn’t know what he could possibly need that a simple room could provide. It wasn’t like a room could bring back the dead, after all. It wasn’t like a room could take back the way he’d been convinced that Sirius had been to blame for James and Lily’s deaths for twelve years.

Ever since their reunion at the Shrieking Shack, he’d been in a deeper state of self-loathing than usual. This had not been helped by the pressure from the school governors to resign after Snape leaked his condition to the Daily Prophet. He still didn’t know what to do about that. For every thought that he shut down, his brain came at him with three more. An encephalic hydra.

Dumbledore had told him he’d have to make a decision by the end of the week and as Thursday drew to a close, he still had no idea. He walked along the corridor that connected his office to the rest of the school and it appeared.

What could it hurt?

He opened the door slowly and gasped.

Four four-poster beds, an open window with the curtain billowing, a signed photo of Freddie Mercury on the wall, the sound of the shower running in the adjacent bathroom… How could this be what he required?

He sat down on the bed that used to be his and looked around him. He’d thought himself the only Marauder left for so long, but for Sirius to be innocent and less addled than one would expect after so long in Azkaban, and Pete awaiting trial, he didn’t know where he stood anymore. He wondered if Sirius would want anything to do with him, once his name was cleared. He had no idea where Sirius had gone after Remus had transformed and risked everyone’s lives. Harry and Hermione had sent him off with Buckbeak, and he knew that Dumbledore had been in touch, but he’d been too much of a coward to ask any further questions.

He looked around the dorm. Everything felt smaller than he remembered. The urge to set fire to Peter’s bed was growing, so he took himself to Sirius’ bed and lay down on it. How on earth did it smell like him? How could a room do that?

He closed his eyes to try and stop the tears that were building. How the fuck was this room an answer to the question of whether he should stay at Hogwarts or resign?

The shower shut off and Remus froze. He sat up just in time to see Sirius, thirty-four-year-old Sirius, stroll out of the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips, as it always had been. He took one look at Remus, turned around and walked back into the bathroom.

Well, Remus thought, there was his answer about whether Sirius would want to have anything to do with him going forward. He stood up from the bed slowly and was about to leave when the bathroom door swung open again.

“Moony?” Sirius said cautiously. “Are you real?”

“Are you real?” Remus asked. It hadn’t occurred to him that Sirius could be anything other than a projection of the room. “I’m— yeah, I’m… me.”

“How are you here?”

“The door has been appearing for me, and I needed somewhere to think today.” He said, “Apparently that place is our old dorm.”

“Oh, no. This is my required room.” Sirius said stepping into the room, still looking like he didn’t quite believe Remus was real.

“Then why has it been showing up for me?” Remus frowned, sitting back down on Sirius’ bed.

“What did you need to think about?” Sirius asked him, uncharacteristically gently. Maybe he wasn’t real after all.

“Dumbledore wants to know whether I want to work here next year or resign.”

“Why the fuck would you resign?!” Sirius asked.

“Snape went to the Prophet and the Governors and told them what I am. The governors and a few parents have pressured me to quit.”

“That’s such bullshit. Fuck. I’m so sorry, Moons.” Sirius, still wearing only a towel, sat down next to Remus, who did his best to ignore the tattoos and scars that now covered Sirius' body.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Remus suddenly asked. “Since…”

Sirius nodded, “Waiting for the ministry to get their arses in gear and pardon me.”

“And until then you’re just… living in a replica of our old dorm?”

Sirius sighed and touched Remus’ arm gently. “I think, like you do now, that I needed to be reminded that Hogwarts will always be my home.”

[whomstwedointheshadows]

I am howling at the sky for the look tonight that Harvey Guillén staked to death, spat on, and made it beg on the red carpet. Instead of just ranting to my queer fashion/fandom retail friends again, I took our collective slobber and tears to outline my plea to the fashion gods.

Why doesn’t this man have a ‘mens’wear line in every American mall? There is a gap in the market for adventurous, queer friendly suiting available through a retailer like Macys/J C Penney. Yes, retail is dying and wedding industry more so, but that’s particular to what’s available for consumers as well. Suiting is turned from off the rack into iconic by proper tailoring, but let me tell you from working all sides of the bridal salon, even up-scale clothing lines are getting rude as hell about quality and assembly to prevent tailoring and longevity.

This kid’s Disney charm would be perfect for introducing a plus size, inclusive line of fashion-forward pieces which include, say a QR code video about taking your own measurements, how adjustments work, with pieces designed to be sleek, with enough allowance for tailoring, and minding the lines in the garment to make the adjustments for plus size bodies easier. It’s no more adjustments than are made on straight size bodies, it’s just straight size bodies have more options to find a line which works with their natural shape.

But in my experience, it’s gender non-conforming folks and plus sized folks who get pushed out of finding pieces they can actually use for celebrations or work, much less pieces with actual personality that spark joy. This man has been killing it for years, really getting some clutch looks for events and invites in the fashion world. He’s showing proof of concept every time he steps in front of a camera.

Watching Harvey’s fashion evolution, I trust his fashion team and judgement to create a mid/high line for workwear to events suiting embracing a gender nonconforming audience. I can’t think of anyone better situated to become the ambassador of a brand with *the* formal wear for queer events and special occasions. I was tickled to see he sells his own merch and hope this experience convinces him of the joy working with artists and connecting their visions to a wanting public, dipping toes into the new ethical, sustainable trends in fashion. His looks alone shows he’s done his homework over the years about timelessness and early adopting trends.

For the years I worked selling/tailoring wedding dresses, there was the prophetic ‘someday… along will come the man who revives men’s fashion for events again’ to save the David’s bridal/men’s wear house lines who keep dropping plus sizes like mine and dying off. As the pet butch in the bridal salon I pleaded to the sky for better suiting options. Add that to my butch lezzy ways and trans masc circle of friends I legit spent this past Friday night drunk in a bar with a seam ripper adjusting jackets and darting pants in an unplanned sewing circle for a bachelorette until it was my round of karaoke. This isn’t the first time I’ve spontaneously started tailoring for the queers, I can’t keep up with the demand! Y’all we are in our twenties to mid thirties there should be better options than this that don’t require a vacation to LA/NY!!

I have ethical, sustainable fashion preferences about slipping in a retailer versus an online brand. But for the vision of accessible clothing to the masses pushing the envelope of the kind of quality only vintage pieces are affording the general public, this is the only celebrity really posed with the image, high energy, and bona fides to be the face of it. His connections in the fashion game are only growing as WWDITS wraps up.

If this man opened a pop-up suiting/fashion shop I’d take my limited time and resources to really dig in to the designers he promoted. I’d be howling in the streets for my celebrants to go get a Gullién. There’s no shortage online pattern makers, but there is a shortage of queer friendly shops to really get pieces that pop and it feels safe to enjoy in a retail environment. For average people wanting to engage with fashion that affirms their identity on their special day, there’s too much fucking compromise. Honestly it’s nice that I have a side hustle sewing to pattern, but I’d give it up in a fucking heartbeat for there to be actually sustainable and approachable options. I wish there was an in between of being ‘affordable’ gnc suiting in an American mall but add plus size availability and it gets sad for your most thrifty, creative friends. Someone needs the step in the gap, and why not someone at the top of the game?

Even if it was just a pop up line every few years, I’d fucking salivate over every image in that catalogue two thousand miles away for what it can teach home sewists just by virtue of curating those artisans with the express goal of queer, fat friendly designs playing together. Just the existence of vintage shops like Proud Mary creates a boom across the inter-webs of new sewists per post. Could anyone really imagine if there were actually accessible stores in key cities/supported by an online catalog with a personable, rising star as the brand face?

Please feed us more fashion, Harvey. Keep those stylists and designer friends close. Please. I cannot stress how many mascs/nb-bebes keep dropping your name every fitting consultation across this nation and it’s for good reason.

[cheeekycharchar]

Crowley aka Archangel Jeremiel??

For years we've seen the amazing theories of Crowley's true name, his original angel form as possibly being Raphael and the most recent theory as possibly Lucifer. Both very believable imho.

But to throw my hat in the ring… my theory.. my new headcanon is that..

Anthony J. Crowley was.. Jeremiel!Crowley.

"What's the 'J' stand for?"

"It's just a 'J' really.."

Crowley is definitely insinuated to be one of the Archangels or higher- a theory I think we can all agree on.

But for me.. I believe he is.. Jeremiel and I have the receipts to prove it below! ;)

• Archangel Jeremiel (Jerahmeel) is the Hebrew name for "Mercy of God/God's Mercy", "He will obtain mercy of God", "God pities" or "May God have Compassion".

• Is also known as the "Archangel of Prophetic Visions and Dreams."

• He communicates hopeful messages from God to people who are discouraged or troubled.

• He helps us to become aware of our thoughts and emotions and how these may be out of alignment with what we really desire.

• They also say he helps newly crossed-over souls and the still-living review their lives so they can take inventory of their past and learn from prior experiences so that they're even stronger and more centered in love in the future.

• Furthermore, New Age believers say that Jeremiel is the angel of joy for girls and women, and he appears in female form when he delivers blessings of joy to them.

SO.

What does this all have to do with Crowley?

• An Archangel who's name is synonymous with the word Mercy. What is Mercy? Compassion that leads to FORGIVENESS.

"Unforgiveable.. that's what I am."

"I forgive you." T^T

• An Archangel that has prophetic visions and dreams.

Crowley's vision is his biggest physical change from Angel to Demon. His cursed snake eyes.

But he is also a Demon that loves to sleep for long periods of time- probably dreaming of the stars (or a certain cocoa lovin' Angel, hehe).

• An Archangel that brings hopeful messages to those that are discouraged or troubled.

"I hope I didn't do the wrong thing.."

"Oh, you're an angel. I don't think you can do the wrong thing."

"Oh, oh, thank you-- it's been bothering me."

• An Archangel that helps those, living and dead, learn from their mistakes and problem solve.

Such as Crowley always questioning God's "bad ideas" and making suggestions to improve on them.

• And lastly, an Archangel that is referred to as a "him" but can, at times, appear as a female to bring joy to girls and women.

Take that as you will, LOL.

PS. No joke. This is a depiction of the Archangel Jeremiel as an Eastern Orthodox Saint (lol Aziraphale is the Guardian of the Eastern Gates. no relation, I'm sure) where he is shown to have fiery red hair.

..In the end, I love to theorize while I wait for S3.

I love the research behind it all and thinking too deeply on benign fandom things.

And I could honestly go on and on about more lil details on this theory but... who would read all that lol

So take this all as just another fun idea to play with during our current hell that is between seasons limbo.

But for me… I'm far too deep into believing my own theory of Jeremiel!Crowley for my own good now, lol.

What do ya'll think? Possibility or am I crazy? XD

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose, Chapter Seventeen (Loki x fem! Reader Hiddlesverse Crossover Miniseries)

Series Summary: Based on Sarah J Mass's A Court of Thorns and Roses series with the Tom Hiddleston characters. You are a woman of 1880's in Aldwinter in Essex, England, dying of tuberculosis. Never to be married to the local Lusty Vicar. When Loki appears to you and offers to heal you...if you spend a week of every month with him

Chapter Summary: You have returned to Aldwinter. And begin to set plans for your revenge on Will.

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Some spicy stuff but no actual smut (please forgive me, the chapters in this fic are long enough), mentions of cheating and portraying Will's cheating as bad I am very blatantly against the Will/Cora pairing in The Essex Serpent and it shows so if you like either character or the pairing, you have been warned. Mentions of sex and religion and violence and abandonment. Supporting Women's Wrongs.

A/N: Thanks to @muddyorbsblr for the brilliant ideas about how Reader could get her long due revenge and the great suggestions!

Also,

Happy New Years Eve! Instead of going to clubs and drinking and partying or being invited to a party, I'm spending it editing fanfiction. So this is to all of you out there who too feel a little lonely like me and like you should be out there doing partying and "normal" things...you aren't the only one, and I'm sending you a hug.

I hope you enjoy the start of the "next" season of Court after that cliffhanger! Leave a comment or reblog or send me an ask or dm if you especially liked it! Happy 2024!

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You could still recall your wedding with Loki.

It was night. The moons shone above. Stars sprinkled across the sky as people laughed and went out to restaurants and taverns. They weren’t the ones about to find a cauldron. They could go on in ignorance and always in safety.

But your own pulse was picking up as you held Loki’s hand. Excitement and nervousness.

You both walked into a temple, a building with a garland of roses over the door. For even gods still needed worshippers. Inside, there were two priests going about. An old man and a younger man in fine golden robes swept the floors. The younger one turned and gasped, tugging the sleeve of his sage.

They recognized Loki and both bowed.

“Ah, great prince and god of mischief, what brings you here?” the older one asked.

“I want you to marry us!” Loki announced.

Their jaws dropped, and the brown eyes of the old man grew large.

“Without the…the consent of the AllFather?” the older priest asked.

“No- I do not need it. I am not a child anymore. I am a man grown and this is the woman I want to marry.” Loki said, gesturing to you.

You walked over and placed a hand on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you.

“This is one order I give you, both as god and prince- Perform a marriage between me and Y/N. The Jotun Prophet says she is my True Love- always shall be. Don’t break the True Love Bond. Perform a marriage ceremony. I’ll reward you handsomely if you do.”

They relented. The Older Priest led you both to the large altar in the next room. It had a tall statue of Frigga smiling with outstretched hands from her gown’s sleeves. Firewood was brought to make a nice kindling blaze in the fireplace from the younger priest to the fireplace in the room.

The older priest gestured you both to You walked around it to the wooden table placed right before the statue. It was covered in runes in its tan wood. There was a small dagger, a cornucopia, and a tall, white candle that the elder priest lit with fire from the fireplace. The younger priest stood to bear witness, as well as holding a spare marriage contract for you both.

“The AllMother might feel a slight twinge in the air tomorrow, for marriage is part of her realm. But yet…if you are certain, then you are certain. Any last things you would like before we begin?” asked the older priest.

“It feels a little more like a lamb is about to be sacrificed than a wedding,” you shyly commented, for the Christian weddings of home were more what you were used to.

“The AllMother doesn’t like offerings of lamb!!” laughed the older priest.

“Here- let me make it more decorated, then,” Loki offered.

With a flick of his hand, there were flowers everywhere. Soft roses in bloom, their perfume a gentle caress in the air. They decorated the statue and the altar. Flower crowns were placed on the two priests, much to their amusement.

“Should I go back home and get that lacy bustle dress then? I know it’s your favorite” you teased Loki.

He gave you a small laugh, then lifted his hand and flicked it in the air.

Golden light came down from over your heads, he gave himself rich green robes with gold armor plates over his shoulders Both a prince and a groom.

You looked as the magic went over you and your clothes transformed on your body. You were given a long dress that was a soft blush pink to compliment his green. It shimmered when light touched it. It showed your shoulders but the sleeves were so long they draped to the floor, the way that a few of the queen’s dresses did. For that was what a woman of royalty wore. The bodice made a heart shape over your chest. On your head was a long veil that went down your back and onto the floor of sheer material, forming a beautiful train melting into a lacelike pattern. It made you look like you floated.

You smiled up at him.

“It’s beautiful, thank you!” you gasped.

Loki smiled, then nodded at the priest for him to begin.

You clasped hands. There was a prayer and some milk poured into a bowl and placed at the feet of the statue as an offering to Frigga..Loki conjured daggers for you both to trade, symbolizing how you would protect each other.

“Now, make your vows to each other,” signaled the Priest.

Loki held your hands. Though the priest whispered the words in his ear, he repeated it with sincerity.

"I, Loki, do swear before the AllFather and AllMother, take you to be my wife, my friend, my lover, and my companion. From this day until only death do us part. I pledge you my fidelity, refusing all others as long as we live. My softest words and tenderest embraces. I shall choose to respect you and choose to love you. In my bed and on my table. In battle and in peace. In sickness and in health. In joy and in sorrow. Day and night. From this hour, as long as we both live."

You took his hands and repeated what the priest whispered into your ear.

“I, Y/N, do swear before the AllFather and AllMother, to take you to be my husband, My friend, my lover, and my companion. From this day until death do us part. I pledge you my fidelity, refusing all others as long as we live. My softest words and tenderest embraces. I shall choose to respect you and choose to love you. In my bed and on my table. In battle and in peace. In sickness and in health. In joy and in sorrow. Day and night. From this hour, as long as we both live."

Then Loki’s magic brought up the ring- the very one you won from the Weaver’s cottage.

“That was why the Weaver thought I earned it…even she knew…” you wondered.

“She’s a matchmaker then, who knew,” Loki teased.

Loki placed it gently around your finger. He conjured a ring that you slipped through his finger.

There was a final prayer and chant. The younger priest brought forth the document which you both signed.

“Now seal it with a kiss- and all the nine realms shall consider you husband and wife,” announced The Older Priest.

You did, happily. Embracing each other and locking lips. They both smiled and applauded. Loki paid them generously with a conjured bag of coin.

You both were still holding hands as you hurried home. Your wedding gown and his shoulder plates glowing in the moonlight.

With the crowds around Asgard, you could slip by unnoticed. But you were smiling. He was red-cheeked, almost running and pulling you with him until you picked up your skirt and met his pace. You ran together back home at an equal speed. The thrill of being married at last soaring in your hearts.

You got home in your finery, clutching hands happily. At the entrance, no one came to meet you. The guards simply allowed you through, never asking questions.

“Husband…” you teased, tasting the word. Placing a hand on his warm chest. His eyes went big.

“In the older times, a marriage isn’t considered legal until it is consummated. Is Asgard…like that?” you asked with a slight giggle in your voice.

Loki took his hands around your waist.

“Better safe than sorry, then,” he agreed.

He scooped you easily into his arms and carried you right into his chambers. Taking you onto his green bed and laying you down.

He crawled on top of you and kissed you. Desire burned between your legs as he let in some of his tongue and touched your face, pulling you close. Hands greedily running down your body. Giggling you rolled over so he laid down and you were on top. The veil shimmered as it fell from your head into a melted, sparkly puddle on the floor. He let out a small gasp of surprise but laughed it off, his ivory face below you, his beautiful black curls splayed across the bed.

‘Now that we are wed, I’m going to make my wife scream with pleasure on our wedding night. And every night after that.”

His hands went to your hips, gripping the flesh beneath the cloth. You set yours on his broad shoulders.

“First I’ll have to spare your stallion and ride you instead!” you whispered.

“I love you, my wife… and princess,” he voiced.

“I love you too- prince and husband,” you said.

You began to grind him as he undid his own leather trousers. Then you pulled up your long skirts and began to sink onto his-

“O God, whose blessed Son was manifested that He might destroy the works of the devil and make us the children of God and heirs of eternal life:...”

The vicar’s voice broke you out of your memories.

That was just the past. And here you were in a familiar scene. The memory is still warm in your body though you were back in that sterile church.

“Grant us, we beseech thee, that, having this hope, we may purify ourselves even as he is pure…’ Will continued to intone, signaling the beginning of the service.

You were sitting dutifully on the front row next to your parents. Just as you did for a long time. You were back home in Aldwinter, but you did not feel like the same lovesick girl counting down the days to her wedding and smiling up at the vicar with love and even restrained lust.

No, you kept your eyes down to the checkered floor, hands positioned to pray. You wore a dark-colored dress, but you were not in mourning. You would paint the picture of piety and repentance here. Still aware of the eyes still on you. Of the gossip.

“She left our respectable rector for that god. Yet she’s back here and - bless him, he loves her! He’s going to marry Y/N anyway despite all of that! Despite her being ruined. Despite her betrayal,” was what they were whispering in their pews and parlors.

‘They got it wrong as to who ultimately betrayed who. Twice.’ you thought. But you held back that part of you in your head. It was rather talkative lately, but you knew better than to utter a word of your true thoughts.

You looked about. There was the old chandelier that hung up with unlit candles. You wondered how they stayed on. What would happen if one were to fall? Would it hit someone?

To your amusement, you realized one hung over where Will was standing. You wished you could make a candle fall to hit him on the curly auburn head. It would have been funny, even the congregation would laugh. But you didn’t.

It deserved to be a knife aimed at his skull instead.

Everyone kept their heads down, though sometimes a pair of eyes would meet yours.

You were back. You told them- your family, old friends, and neighbors- little of what happened. As far as they knew, you were enchanted. But the spell was broken. Yhat you were returned safely- to pray, repent, and process all that happened with Loki…

And sometimes you did. The things you never imagined you would see or do when you went to Asgard. You thought you would live a plain little life in a plain little town and that you were content to do so. Did they know that you learned how to wield swords and daggers? That you were blessed with magic? Of the people you met from other worlds and timelines and planets? Stole belongings or helped in their stealing? Escaped death multiple times? Fought? Even killed? That you found new friendships with queens, princes, and warrior women? Seen aliens? Been to a ball? Met gods and learned to love one and was even married to him?

Now- here you were. In your old clothes and old church. Did those grand adventures even happen at all?

You knew they did.

There were a few extra faces in the pews. For some in town were surprised by an influx of men who built small houses and stayed nearby. Some women were thrilled for a bunch of new bachelors and hoped for marriage with one of them. They all said they were part of a construction company and factory that was nearby…when really they were of Grendel’s army. Bullies and monsters, all of them. And it was none other than Will who agreed with Grendel to let them stay in the town…if Grendel got you back here to him.

Will’s sermon continued as normal. He seemed happy as he began to discuss Paul’s book of Romans. Once you would have sat up in rapt attention. But you could hardly pay attention to it anymore. He seemed like a ghost in his long white robes. He wore a long blue sash draping down his shoulders trimmed with gold with symbols on the ends. He smiled brightly as he stood before the congregation, folding his hands so they disappeared from his robe’s sleeves.

You heard the voice of your husband through the bond.

'I’m going to kill him,' Loki said clearly in your head.

'Not yet,' you replied.

'I’m going to get out my dagger, and stab him right where he is.'

'Loki, please, don't'

'Then I’m ripping a portal to this church, slinging you over my shoulder, and carrying my wife out of this place. Right. Now.'

'Loki, I wish you could- but consider: they're watching. The whole town is watching and not just now! Everyone is obsessed and looking for you. My parents keep the doors to the house locked except for when I go on my daily walk. Everyone has purchased a weapon. They’re searching like madmen for you in Aldwinter. It’s not safe for you to just barge in.'

Now people discussed the Trickster god who kidnapped and ravished women more than the Serpent that was just a dead whale. They searched everywhere. Children played games and whispered about him. One thought they saw him in the woods. Another thought they saw him in the marshes. People kept close eyes on their daughters- he took first you, then Stella twice, and who knew which lady would be next?

One day, there was a rowboat on the river in town. It nearly ran into another rowboat. And no fishing nets were inside.

“What are you out here for?” one rowman asked.

“Lookin’ for the Trickster god! He was sighted here, wasn’t he?” answered the other boat’s first rowman.

“Blast it, not if I find and shoot him first!” said another rowman from the other boat.

‘But, my dear pet-’ Loki continued to sigh.

‘No- I don’t want you to. Besides, even if you could quickly get me out, I don’t want to leave yet…not without seeing to it that Will is punished’ you sent to him.

'You do deserve revenge, Loki agreed “So I should turn into a cat again, trot up to him purring, and then jump out and stab him.'

'Loki, it is a habit of men to avenge women they love who were wronged. It is in many stories- it is always the woman who suffers and dies horribly because of a villain’s sins and it is not her, but the man who is allowed to live to avenge her. Those writers don’t understand we ladies are perfectly capable of exacting our own revenges. I would like to do it. I am the person Reverend Ransome has wronged most of all. If anyone should do the stabbing, it should be me.'

'Then get a knife and throw it towards him in church!' Loki suggested.

'No! He will duck and it shall be me who goes into jail and shall be killed, not him. I can’t just murder him willy-nilly and with no certain escape or sanctuary. I must be careful with this if I am to get away with it.'

Part of you was impressed by him. Making a deal for your safe return at least, done by a man whose heart couldn’t be settled on one woman. You were keeping your simmering rage at bay. You took a look at the church, you noticed the walls that seemed blue-green in the overcast sky when they were really white. The light brown pews and the table with a tall wooden cross on it with two candles between. The three chandeliers. The two windows that overlooked everyone were like eyes.

When you burned Aldwinter to the ground, the church would be first.

No, no you couldn’t. Why should so many innocent people suffer because of one man’s decisions? You had to figure out how to exact revenge on the reverend Will Ransome, in a way that would affect him and only him. And in a way that no one would suspect it was you.

The service continued on as normal. Though you were always in a half-sleepy, silent daze now instead of at attention, doing every repetition of prayers and singing each hymn and crossing yourself soberly.

Sunday evening, as always, a nice dinner was made for Will, your fiancee and guest. It was as if the letter you wrote to him ending things was never sent.

It was the same picture. Everyone sitting down in your house. Napkins draped across laps as forks and knives clinked with plates. The smell of the meal wafting- your mother’s roast with salad and bread and potatoes. Laughter and chatter.

You would make a smile appear on your face, eating politely and quietly.

Then your father made one clap and rubbed his hands, looking at you and Will.

“Now- let us discuss the wedding! Do you have a date selected, my dears?” he asked.

“We have discussed about the wedding a little more…” Will began.

‘But I’m already married,’ you thought, glancing down at the emerald ring always on your finger.

Then again, Will wasn’t known for respecting the boundaries of marriage.

The Lusty Vicar placed a hand over yours and held it.

“We will reschedule the wedding for next month,” Will suggested. His blue eyes shined to you. “Then, my angel, I shall finally call you my wife.”

‘I would rather the Serpent become real and devour me,’ you thought.

“It shall be lovely,” you replied with a small smile.

“We shall have a wedding- free of interruptions and no sickness and no spells. It shall be simpler, mind you- we all know how much the first one cost,” your mother added.

“A big wedding doesn’t matter as long as it’s with a good man who truly loves you,” you commented.

Will again looked at you softly. He spoke with a smoothness, almost a seductive tone, like when he proposed to you. Not caring the others were there. In fact, they enjoyed it.

“It was God who told me you were to be my bride, Y/N.”

‘But God didn’t tell me.’ you thought. You only looked up at him and smiled.

“And we shall spend our lives fulfilling His word together,” he continued.

‘Did God also tell you to stick your fingers up Cora’s-’

“Oh, how beautiful! To see you finally married off to this godly, lovely man!” your mother sighed out loud.

“I am the happiest woman in Essex, ” you replied.

He kissed your hands and left back home.

“Y/N, now that you are a parsonage bride, be sure to attend to your duties at the church tomorrow. You must become used to them,” your mother reminded you.

One idea hit you. A small step.

Revenge you realized, was similar to cooking or baking. When one has a recipe, there are all sorts of small ingredients to gather, steps to take, and things to measure and mix. Small steps. They don’t seem like much at first, but bit by bit, they became something bigger, grander.

“Yes, mother. I shall,” you replied dutifully.

The next afternoon, the church was empty. Only Will and a few others planning out events in the meeting room. You had to help keep it tidy and check plans for Sunday School, for you were now going to join as another volunteer teacher for the children. As you looked over the lesson plans with the other teachers, you reached out your powers through your gifts. Searching. Would they be where they were last…

They reached his office. To what was under his desk.

No box. And no personal mail.

The letters from Cora were not in his office, you realized. That would take some searching.

But another thing was near his office- the church treasury kept in a safe in the next room.

Another step to your revenge.

One of the benefits of being a vicar was that while a clergyman received some of the tithes, a vicar got all of them.

Of course, some of it went to support his own church and ministry as well as put bread on the table. Will was probably discussing the budget with them from the Sunday tithes.

Finishing the Sunday School lesson planning was done.

Your senses told you the room with the safe was empty.

The old woman who taught the children’s Sunday school chattered on. Usually, women could teach children and other women. It was rare for a woman to teach a Sunday School class that included men. You got up. Saying you were going to get a glass of water and to wait for the Reverend, excuse me.

No one was in the hall. You quickly hurried in, your steps soft. To not click on the floors. Your powers unlocked the door and you stepped in. The plain brown room with a plain grey safe.

Quickly, your senses managed to unlock it. Opening up to numerous checks and huge wads of cash and coins in baskets.

You got out a few things of cash. Taking off your shoe, you slipped it beneath your foot and then retied it on. You then locked it back. Quickly walking away. You went over to the church kitchens to get your glass of water and sip on it in one of the parlors, your eyes down in innocence.

When you got home, you sat down in your chair, claiming you were tired and needed to rest. You looked at the blue gloves you had been knitting recently. Your eyes focused, your powers embracing it. You let it rip open and then reattach, sewn back together easily.

You removed your shoes and got out the cash.

You took the money and placed it in a blank envelope. Oh, how you wished you could recreate handwriting! Then you would forge Will signing it! But you could not, as much as you practiced. That would have given you away.

So at night, when no one was around, no one walking the streets, you briefly slipped the letter under your door. Then you went back to continue to knit more gloves as your parents read.

'Move' you commanded the letter silently.

And it did- it began to drift through the dirt road. You sensed where Mrs. Seaborne resided and directed the letter there as it floated through the ground as if a breeze moved it.

'Go to her house, slip it under the door,' you commanded it.

Quietly as a firefly. It located the house of a certain widow and slipped it under the door.

Your parents then said you would have to read the Bible more, to prepare for your marriage, and gave you a new copy they had bought. You turned to the Old Testament book of Judges and silently read some as they continued their own post-dinner activities by candlelight.

You poured over one story in that book. There was once a tyrant named Sisera who had long oppressed the Hebrew people. After his army lost a decisive battle with the Hebrew forces, he fled like a coward. He discovered a tent where who should be there, but only an ordinary housewife named Jael. She knew what he had done. She let Sisera have her food and sleep there as a guest, promising him that he was safe. Then as he slept, she got out a tent peg and killed him by hammering it through his skull.

You wondered why there weren’t more sermons discussing Jael. Why many never even spoke of her. Or perhaps even knew of her.

So every day you sat, sewed, obeyed your parents and fiancee, and prayed and bided your time. You had to seem like Jael- an innocent, dutiful, pleasant woman who would only do what was asked of her. Then, when the time was right, you would drive the peg through the skull of your Sisera.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── Will loved to take long walks in the mornings. Especially through the fields, the forests, and by the sea. You realized each day you sensed him. They were like clockwork-mid morning after breakfast. Then he would go out for at least an hour. If not two.

That would be the perfect time to find the letters.

The next morning, you said you were out to walk and take care of some errands. Your parents thought nothing of it but wished you well. You walked out.

You walked into the town and through. Careful that none were watching you. You knew where it was. You had been there one night before.

There it was- the tall white house, the vicarage. There was a large, plain backyard save for the little house made of sticks for the dog to sometimes rest in.

The dog was already outside, leased to the house for safety as his keeper was out. The sweet, brown terrier. He went up to you, wagging his tail, for he knew you. You got him little treats of bread from your pocket that you fed to him, so he would be happy and not bark up a storm. No more than what would alert any passerbyes. After petting him for some time, you got back up to go to the vicarage.

Your powers unlocked the door and you went inside. Now you weren’t as clouded with emotion, you could look about the place.

It was light tan wood on the inside. There was a kitchen with an empty table and vase. A little fireplace. A parlor by the windows with cushions where one could watch the outside.

It was a large house. The right size for a man who was expected to start a family.

You turned past one door, peeking inside, and you saw a bedroom. A large blue bed, neatly made.

To think, that was where the wedding night that never happened would have taken place…

Then you continued, you felt odd. Nostalgic for something you never experienced…a life you never lived, had wanted to live, and in a way, still wanted to live.

There was his study. The wallpaper on it was green, full of vines, leaves, flowers, and even birds all over. Beautiful and elaborate. There was a window where sunlight poured through the window over his desk sat. Looking out to the countryside outside. There was an oil lamp where one just turned and there it was. So many papers and journals on his desk, yet in neat piles. But most impressive in his room were the bookshelves. His study was almost a library in itself- tall bookshelves. Full of books, more than you could name. It was likely they all were books of theology or even history or anything having to do with his ministry and studies.

You looked about, pausing and smelling the musk of the place. The beautiful wallpaper. The impressive collection of books.

You could almost feel it like wearing an old shirt- the life you once had. A life that was also within your grasp again. A life where you would live in this house as Mrs. Ransome.

To sit in that bed knitting next to him as he read. To sleep beside him and with him. To fulfill your marital duties at night with quiet passion. A life where you planned the activities the children would do in Sunday school on your kitchen table. Sew up white angel costumes for the Christmas pageant every year. To go and stand by his side helping to bring out alms on a day of charity.

Sweeping and scrubbing all day instead of intense physical training. No worries about Grendel, but of making sure the dinner would be warm when he got home.

One where you would gather flowers from your garden to plop into that vase, making them look nice. A life where you would fix tea and lemon biscuits, and deliver them on a tray to him in his study as he wrote his next sermon. To give it to him and he would smile up from his papers. A life where you would sit by the fire sewing, discussing whatever sermon was coming up next with him as he made notes. Plan recipes for the newest church dinner or picnic coming up and talk to him about who was making what. Picking pastel wallpaper for a certain special room in the future for both of you. Holding hands in the middle of services.

No quests, adventures, or fighting. A quiet life, a domestic, peaceful life. A life you could no longer have. A life no longer accessible -and a life you knew you could no longer let yourself want.

Your powers reached and you found you were correct in your suspicions.

The second desk drawer on the left side. The locked one.

Your powers unlocked it and it jiggled open. There inside were letters. The love letters from Cora to the Lusty Vicar.

Because he wasn’t known as the Faithful Vicar.

Though it made your heart race and your stomach turn, you picked up the letters and began to skim through some of them. You couldn’t take all of them or he would be immediately suspicious. You had to select only a limited number of them- so they had to be the most damning ones.

You turned past one discussing the Serpent to a piece of paper with Will’s handwriting on it. A draft of a letter to respond to her.

“I apologize for not writing, there was too much to say. I cannot think straight around you. I love you, Cora.”

Love- Love! He was sure it was love! You noticed the rest of it was full of scribbled-out words.

Then you found the next one from Cora. Two words in it stood out to you and nearly made you drop the paper.

“Come quickly.”

She was asking Will to leave you for her! The shock made the letter tremble in your hands and your vision went dizzy at the edges.

“Come quickly.”

Your mind then raced, imagined, as minds do… spiraling further in its self-destructive cycle of imagination. Will told you he wouldn’t leave you…he also said he loved you. Said that he still loved you…

“Come quickly.”

What if you already married Will…and he ran off with Cora?

You imagined the scene.

You could see it already in this house. You would be doing your daily duties humming a cheerful song. Refreshing the vase in the kitchen with flowers. Planning ingredients for dinner.

The day turned to evening…and realizing he was taking longer with his church duties than normal. Wondering if something happened. Already missing him as you dusted off the countertops. Full of happy memories of him in your earlier days of marriage. The light brown kitchen where he’d lay a gentle hand on your shoulder in fondness as you stirred the soup. The doorways you teased that he was too tall for. Looking through the dinner you were going to make that night.

Panic bubbled lightly as the sun dipped down and the day became night.

You would finally wander into his study. The light shining orange from his lamp…. There, on the table was a letter addressed to you from him. You would reach for it and read it.

“My dear wife, I am in love with Cora Seaborne. I cannot think straight around her…with her, there is too much to say. I am going with her. I ask for your blessing. I will make sure you are taken care of. Thank you, for your dear blessing on us and for our love.” Will.”

And enclosed were several bills of cash money.

For he knew a married woman could not submit a check at the bank, then the money would go to her husband.

And now, your husband was gone.

The utter shock. Rereading it to make sure it was real, that this nightmare was real. The rage. The tears. The brokenness washing over you. How you would shake. Holding onto his desk for support. Until your legs gave out- how you would collapse, sobbing. Those three little words that would feel like a kick over and over: “for our love.”

Then, you would wander into another room—the pastel one. For by now, there would likely be an occupant.

A little baby in a cradle.

A nursery decorated with the theme of Noah’s Ark. A painting of the wooden boat and of doves with twigs in their beaks on the wall. Full of little animal toys going two by two. Specially decorated for this child’s arrival.

To look down at the little infant in its cradle. So lovingly swaddled safe and warm. A child who was half you and half Will.

On one hand, perhaps it would be worse if he took the child with him. A child you would never know if you would see again, for a husband could deny his wife access to their children. The law saw the child as Will’s, not yours.

And he already found a new replacement, a new wife for him, and a new mother to this child.

It was as if you never mattered in the first place.

But now, the child would be babbling and looking around. Then it would burst into tears, for it missed the cradling arms of its father. You would shush it and try to rock it. Call their name, sing a lullaby in a broken, crying voice, and kiss their forehead- the last reminder of Will you’d always have by you.

To think, once this child was old enough, you would have to look them in the eye and explain why Papa wasn’t around like the other Papas were with their children, even if Papa was a priest. That Papa loved Mama…but he wasn’t in love with Mama.

How you would cradle that child to your chest, walking through the rain, the letter in your pocket. Trudging to your parents home in the middle of a rainstorm in the night. Knocking on the door. They’d open. Seeing a sobbing baby and a sobbing mother.

To tell them what happened. You couldn’t imagine what they would say, would do. They wouldn’t have the heart to even turn you down. But perhaps people would talk.

Maybe you didn’t cook as well. Maybe you were mad and had to be sent to an asylum. Maybe you weren’t as pretty as Cora. Or as interesting or clever. Maybe you didn’t pleasure Will enough in his bed and the Lusty Vicar had to be satiated somehow.

You would not be able to file a divorce. A husband who had an affair and now abandoned you was not the legal grounds for a wife to divorce a husband.

In the eyes of both God and the Law, you were still William Ransome’s wife.

Now…you had to stay married to him until only Death did you part or he decided to initiate a divorce. Even though you were the upright, godly, proper vicar’s wife…the law would not be on your side. Not as a woman.

To wait. For envelopes that had letters- and especially money. To live at the mercy of those envelopes. Hoping the cash would be enough. For food, for warm clothes for your child- no his child, for by the law, the child belonged to the father, not the mother. The humiliation, the pain, the loneliness.

All because Will and Cora were in love.

And all because a stupid whale carcass was what brought them together in the first place!

You wanted to take that lamp that sat at his desk and throw it at the wall until it shattered into a million pieces. You wanted to tear at that letter. Topple the bookshelves and rip apart every last book that belonged to Father William Ransome. Do every violent thing to destroy that room in a rage. To run to Cora’s house armed with a cane like what men and old people used to walk with. For it was she who wrote that letter in the first place. Ready to beat the tar out of her until she-

But no…that wasn’t real. That didn’t happen. This was real, you reminded yourself. You were just sitting in his office with shaking hands.

‘I am not the Unwanted Wife of Aldwinter…I am the Princess of Asgard. Loki loves me, he says I’m beautiful, that I am enough for him- that I am great and awe-inspiring…he is who matters now. I am. Beautiful, powerful, and dangerous. I have the Aesir people, the servants of the palace, the warriors, and the army and legion of Asgard at my disposal- and I shall strike into Will and Cora until they plead for the mercy I will never give them,’ you reminded yourself.

Your senses reached out again and you found old documents from when Will was granted the vicarage and position. You memorized the names of those who appointed him. You searched thoroughly until you found papers with the address of the seminary that appointed him. Taking a scrap piece of paper on the desk and his pen, you wrote their names, as well name of their building and its address. You wrote it down and then hid it in your stocking.

And you had to hurry- what if he decided to return soon? Your senses told you he was still walking outside…but you would not tempt fate.

Taking in a shaky breath, you returned the draft of his letter- you could take it. But if it was missing, he would suspect something was afoot. You set the draft down.

You planned to take two to damn Will. Instead, you took three love letters- including the “come quickly” letter. For she was going to be punished already as harshly as he.

You stuffed them into the pockets of your skirt.

You promptly left the vicarage back to town, taking a path that made it less suspicious you came directly from there.

You did a little grocery shopping, and returned, saying you had to walk to clear your head- you had a nightmare last night. About Loki. You poured a few tears and they fixed you some tea in consolation, telling you that your enchantment and the dreadful act of warming his bed was all over.

Then, once you were alone in your room, You took out the letters from your clothes and hid them your copy of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, which you kept firmly in your personal bookshelf.

They were ingredients left to simmer until boiling. You had the evidence and the first address to send one to. You now had to figure out where to send the other two to bring them down.