#muslim healers

[depvotee]

Mmmhh redesigning Saif tattoos and they're going to be so sexy 💞

[maceofpentacles]

a bit of info on working with archangels 🕯️

the archangels, and angels in general, are beings that will never intercede without your expressed consent! they believe in free will which means that they will only work with you, give you messages, etc., if you are open and willing to receive their divine messages.

a common misconception is that angels will only help those who are religious (i.e. christian, jewish, muslim) but that is not the case! angels have nothing but love for humans and nature so they aren’t tied to any specific religious affiliation, though they come from a more religious background.

each archangel, and angel, has their own areas of expertise when it comes to guidance but nothing is beyond them! so you can essentially reach out to any angel for anything and they will do their best to help you.

i’m going to briefly talk about seven of the main archangels and list some correspondences and offerings as well!

archangel michael - the great defender

archangel michael is the great defender of all that is good. he can be called upon for help with strength and courage as well as general protection.

he is associated with the sun tarot card

offerings include: frankincense, rosemary, basil, white or blue candles, selenite, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

archangel raphael - the divine healer

archangel raphael is the divine healer. he assists with physical healing as well as emotional healing. he is especially popular with healers and those who work in the medical field.

he is associated with the strength tarot card

offerings include: lavender, rosemary, chamomile, peppermint, green candles, fresh flowers, emeralds, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

archangel gabriel - the messenger

archangel gabriel is a messenger who helps people learn how to communicate effectively. he can help you find the words you need to get your point across. he helps artists, writers, and teachers.

he is associated with the moon tarot card

offerings include: lavender, jasmine, lily, white candles, moonstone or clear quartz, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

archangel uriel - the hermit

archangel uriel is a wizened hermit figure who helps us deal with feelings of loneliness that can become overwhelming at times. he helps us learn how to be alone without feeling lonely.

he is associated with the hermit tarot card

offerings include: sandalwood, frankincense, cinnamon, red or gold candles, citrine, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

archangel chamuel - the peace bringer

archangel chamuels main mission is to bring peace to the world. you can call on him when you're suffering from anxiety or if you need help forgiving someone. he is especially helpful when it comes to relationship troubles.

he is associated with the lovers tarot card

offerings include: rose, chamomile, lavender, pink candles, rose quartz, love letters, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

archangel zadkiel - the forgiver

archangel zadkiel is who you should call when it comes to forgiveness as a whole. he helps regulate emotions and work through them so we can feel that sense of forgiveness for others and ourselves.

he is associated with the temperance tarot card

offerings include: rose, lavender, chamomile, eucalyptus, purple candles, amethyst, engaging in acts of service like volunteering or donating, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

archangel jophiel - the transformer

archangel jophiel is responsible for the positive transformations we go through in life. he encourages inner journeys that help us to discover our passions.

he is associated with the star tarot card

offerings include: chamomile, lemon balm, sunflower yellow or orange candles, yellow jasper, spending time in nature, practicing positive affirmations, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

[blackhistorystoryteller]

Africa has been very rich even before colonialism

The truth you should know about African

Blacks know your history and divinity

They gave us the Bible and stole our natural resources

Community and Social Cohesion: Traditional African religions often emphasized communal values, fostering a sense of belonging and mutual support within the community. Rituals and ceremonies were communal events that strengthened social ties.

Respect for Nature: Many African traditional religions were deeply connected to nature, promoting a harmonious relationship with the environment. This connection often led to sustainable practices and a respect for the natural world.

Ethical Guidelines: These religions often included moral and ethical guidelines that governed interpersonal relationships. Concepts such as honesty, hospitality, and respect for elders were commonly emphasized.

Cultural Identity: Traditional African religions played a crucial role in shaping cultural identity. They provided a framework for understanding the world, explaining origins, and passing down cultural practices through rituals, myths, and oral traditions.

Islam reached Nigeria through a combination of trade, migration, and cultural interactions. The trans-Saharan trade routes were crucial in bringing Islam to the region. Muslim traders from North Africa and the Middle East ventured into West Africa, establishing economic ties and introducing Islam to local communities.

The city-states along the trade routes, such as Kano and Katsina, became significant centers for Islamic influence. Merchants not only engaged in commercial activities but also played a role in spreading Islamic teachings. Over time, rulers and elites in these city-states embraced Islam, contributing to its gradual acceptance.

Additionally, the spread of Islam in Nigeria was facilitated by the activities of Islamic scholars and missionaries. Scholars known as clerics or Mallams played a key role in teaching Islamic principles and converting people to Islam. They often established Quranic schools and engaged in educational activities that promoted the understanding of Islamic teachings.

Military conquests also played a part in the expansion of Islam in Nigeria. Islamic empires, such as the Sokoto Caliphate in the 19th century, emerged through conquest and warfare, bringing Islam to new territories. The Sokoto Caliphate, led by Usman dan Fodio, sought to establish a strict Islamic state based on Sharia law.

Overall, the spread of Islam in Nigeria was a gradual process influenced by trade networks, migration, the activities of scholars, and, at times, military expansion. The interplay of these factors contributed to the integration of Islam into Nigerian society, shaping its cultural and religious landscape.

In the vast tapestry of Africa's rich cultural heritage, herbal traditional healing stands out as a profound and time-honored practice. African herbal traditional healers, often known as traditional or indigenous healers, play a vital role in the healthcare systems of many communities across the continent. Their practices are deeply rooted in the natural world, drawing on centuries-old wisdom and an intimate understanding of local flora.

African herbal traditional healers are custodians of ancient knowledge, passing down their expertise through generations. They serve as primary healthcare providers in many communities, addressing a wide range of physical, mental, and spiritual ailments. The healing process involves a holistic approach, considering the interconnectedness of the individual with their community and environment.

One of the hallmark features of African herbal traditional healers is their profound knowledge of medicinal plants. These healers have an intricate understanding of the properties, uses, and combinations of various herbs. Passed down through oral traditions, this knowledge is often a well-guarded family secret or shared within the apprentice-master relationship.

The methods employed by herbal traditional healers encompass diverse approaches. Herbal remedies, administered as infusions, decoctions, or ointments, form a significant part of their treatment. These remedies are carefully crafted based on the healer's understanding of the patient's symptoms, lifestyle, and spiritual condition. Additionally, rituals, ceremonies, and prayers are often incorporated into the healing process, acknowledging the interconnectedness of physical and spiritual well-being.

African herbal traditional healers frequently integrate spiritual elements into their practice. They believe that illness can be a manifestation of spiritual imbalances or disharmony. Through rituals and consultations with ancestors or spirits, healers seek to restore balance and harmony within the individual and the community.

Herbal traditional healers are integral to the social fabric of their communities. They often serve not only as healers but also as counselors, mediators, and keepers of cultural traditions. Their practices are deeply intertwined with community life, contributing to the resilience and cohesion of African societies.

While herbal traditional healing holds immense value, it faces challenges in the modern era. The encroachment of Western medicine, issues related to regulation and standardization, and the potential exploitation of traditional knowledge pose threats to this practice. However, there is also a growing recognition of the importance of integrating traditional healing into mainstream healthcare systems, leading to collaborative efforts to preserve and promote this valuable heritage.

African herbal traditional healers are bearers of an ancient legacy, embodying a profound connection between humanity and the natural world. Their healing practices, rooted in herbal wisdom and spiritual insights, offer a unique perspective on healthcare that complements modern medical approaches. Preserving and respecting the knowledge of these healers is not only crucial for the well-being of local communities but also for the broader appreciation of the diverse cultural tapestry that defines Africa.

[david-talks-sw]

Thoughts on Tales of the Empire?

Worth noting that I do my best to look at these as short films, the same as the ones I see when I go to film festivals. So re: any "lore-breaking" elements (Grievous' design, Thrawn stuff, etc)... I don't see them as retcons, so much as just format-driven reinterpretations.

That said, the first of the Morgan episodes is okay, the rest is lackluster... which is telling, frankly.

Even with three Tales of the Empire episodes on top of what we've seen in Ahsoka and The Mandalorian, they still haven't been able to give this character more depth than "she suffered loss and now she's mean." Morgan Elsbeth is the Jiren of Star Wars, as far as I'm concerned.

The Barriss episodes were fine. I'm glad to see she finds the light in the end and goes back to being a healer (win for EU fans) and I'm glad she eventually mended bridges with Ahsoka. She's probably not dead, if you ask me.

But even here... this is someone who bombed the temple, killed innocent people, made a woman inject nanobots into her husband then choked her to death to cover her tracks AND framed her friend.

A lot of people cling to her speech in the Senate to characterize her as this Cassandra-type figure, but don't forget this moment...

I mean come on guys, she's literally smiling sadistically, here.

My point being: she's no snowflake.

Aside from the already-panned fact that taking one of the few muslim-coded characters and making them a bomber is extreeemely poor form: you made a choice in writing, now stick to it. You wanted to have Barriss be someone who feels the red blades of a known assassin "suits her"? Do it.

I have no idea where they saw the above and thought that the "I don't wanna fight you, old friend" BS in her first episode, or the "we're supposed to be better than this" rhetoric from the second episode, would track.

I can fill in the gaps, and gladly will.

My headcanon is that Luminara visited her whenever she could... and this softened Barriss' hardened heart, over time. Then one day she's sent to Kashyyk, and "don't worry Barriss, I'll be back for our daily chat"... and she doesn't. Barriss goes to sleep concerned, wakes up during Order 66.

But, as usual, that's me getting creative with it because the creatives wouldn't do so in the first place. Also, I'm pretty sure "Barriss becomes an inquisitor" is a turnout most folks expected, so no real mind-blowing beats coming from these episodes.

All in all, a 7/10 in my book (a high score despite all my bitching because my qualms are with the writing; the sound design and visuals are amazing and I think a 7 reflects that).

[devilmen-collector]

Hell's Year Numbering

A short headcanon about what year it is in each country of Hell, featuring Gehenna, Tartaros, Hades, Abyssos and Paradise Lost. It's similar to how it's currently the year 2024 AD according to the common Gregorian calendar, which counts the year since the Nativity of Jesus Christ, or 1445AH according to Islamic calendar, which counts the year since the migration of Muhammad and his followers from Mecca to Medina, establishing the first Muslim community, etc.

For Gehenna and Tartaros, the year numbering begins with the day Satan and Mammon formally ascended to the throne of their respective country. So in these two countries, the number of year indicates how many years it has been since the ascension of the king(s). It's similar to regnal year/era in some countries that still retain the monarchy, such as the UK and Japan.

We all know about Leviathan's tragic past. So for Hades, I think the year numbering begins with the day the future king received the name "Leviathan" (or getting himself that name). After all, everything in Hades revolves around Leviathan, not just his reign as king.

Originally, Abyssos had the same year numbering method as other countries. However, since its king, Beelzebub left and became the wandering king, the country has changed its year numbering system, which counts the year since the day Beelzebub left.

For Paradise Lost, since Lucifer took charge, the year numbering became more religious, in a way. Now they count the year since the Creation of the world, and time itself, by God. Thus, the country of Pride and healers has the highest number for its calendar year.

[radfemsiren]

I know that it's a sacrosanct among radical feminists, but I don't think that witch hunts were intentional persecutions of women.

There were a lot of men burned as witches. In Salem 1/3 of victims were male, in Europe generally around 20% were, and in the East majority of witches burned were male.

This seems like too much male victims for allegedly misogynistic campaign.

Don't get me wrong, I see that even per my words women were harmed more, and yes, it's because of misogyny. But it wasn't the prime reason for witch hunts themselves - they started because of paranoia and religious hatred (it was the time of Wars of Religion and also christianity in 16-17 centuries in all forms was strengthening its chokehold on society). And what is actually almost universal to all victims is that they were considered undesirable by their communities. And yes, since misogyny was commonplace, women were spared less empathy, especially elderly women.

And also the narrative of connection between women and magic of any kind, including healing one, emerged during witch hunts. Before them magic and healing practices were viewed as mostly male thing, and in some parts of my country they still are.

Once again, witch hunts are undeniably a testimony of misogyny of Early Modern Europe, but they weren't some kind of purposefully misogynistic conspiracy. Moids of all groups and ideologies always think of women as morally inferior in their way (fascists think that all womens are commies, atheists think that women are superstitial, christoids think that women are godless, I bet you know this), but saying that all of their political or cultural movements are therefore covers for misogyny is delusional. But the narrative of witch hunts as a campaign against folk healers or some unproven witch cult are IMO pointless because they paint Middle Ages as some feminist utopia (no fucking they weren't, though they weren't a trad dream either), and also operate on comic book logic of some shadowy evil men crafting misogyny in 16th century instead of pointing out how they highlight actual gruesome misogyny of the time.

And also I genuinely doubt that midwives medics of the time were beneficial for women, but accounts of harmful practices that I read were from 19th century, so one can argue that actual knowledge was lost during witch hunts

I feel like that’s what feminists are saying though no? Like the characteristic of the witch-hunts were that it was fanatic mobs persecuting hated groups: and women were the biggest oppressed, hated group. When it comes to the church being threatened by women gaining power and learning medicine, I can’t speak on that because I’ve never researched this topic.

I will say though that the idea of “well all men are misogynistic so calling out specific cultures for misogyny is pointless” is an excuse I really hate. Religious people come to me everyday with examples of specific atheist men that are misogynistic as an attempt at a “gotcha” and its such a logical fallacy. It doesn’t sway me in the belief that a theocracy will always be a thousand times worse for women than a secular government: the overall function and practice of an ideology are what’s important, not cherry picking parts you like or dislike.

There are dogmas that incite hatred and misogyny and punish critical thinking and individual thought: the mechanism of organized religion is one of these. Authority must always be obeyed, and obedience to man and god is the priority. You can sprinkle nice little anecdotes of Jesus being nice to prostitutes (Muslims have similar stories too, like of the prostitute that gave a dog water and Allah forgave all her sins) and still the foundation of Christianity and Islam are clearly antithetical to women’s liberation.

[divaofmads]

Forever In My Heart | King Baldwin

Part I | Part II

Gif by @princess-of-thebes-1995 Dividers by @saradika-graphics pictures by Pinterest

Summary: Baldwin knew that his illness would not allow him to live long. Unfortunately, he did not have an heir to leave the throne to, and since he was of French origin, he demanded an heir from the French kingdom to take over the throne after he died. So King Louis VII sent his younger son and his wife to go to Jerusalem and make a deal with the King.

Warnings! : Toxic Relationship, (King Baldwin is 20, Prince Hugh is 25, Y/N is 19), No Y/N using (Princess Maria), Inspired by history. It is not real historical events exactly, There are chronological mistakes, I apologize for the mistakes I made in English that is not my native language and I am trying to improve my writing skills

A/N: No one's religious beliefs were disrespected. The story was written by researching the ideas of that period.

A/N 2 : You can imagine whoever you want to play the bad guy(Please comment who do you imagine).

" 5th June 1173

My lover who is more beautiful than anything. My lady with lips sweeter than honey, a complexion that would make the moon jealous, and eyes brighter than the sun. The angel who inspires me. You're in my dreams when I sleep, you're the first thing that comes to my mind when I wake up. I miss you so much that every day we are apart I pray to Jesus that my father will return from crusade as soon as possible and start making preparations for our wedding.

After that incident, after the doctors had a dilemma about whether I might be sick, I thought that your father the emperor wanted our engagement not to be official, using his relations with the Seljuk State as an excuse. Forgive me for such impertinent ideas, my love. I would never betray you and your family. However, the crusades that my father Amalric started against the Fatimids by joining forces with the French and Germans showed me that what prevents our marriage is fate. But I know. No matter how late it is, our lives will be united, you will be the most respected queen the Latin kingdom has ever seen. Christian and Muslim healers will soon produce a cure for my illness together. Don't think about me. I will be fine, knowing that you love me gives me strength, my queen. Always be happy, be healthy. Always remember me. Dream about our future during the days we are apart, because I do. May the God who reigns in the heavens and watches over the whole world protect you.

I think the reason you didn't reply to my previous two letters is because you were busy, but this time I'm eagerly waiting for you to reply to my letter, my love. My heart is with you forever."

Who could love a man whom even God has cursed?

1180 4th June

When the night covered the lands of Jerusalem like a blanket, Baldwin stood by the window and watched his kingdom. God had given this holy city to the Crusaders and had stood by them. The Latin kingdom acted as a protector against the increasingly powerful Muslim invaders. Although the failure of the 2nd Crusade had caused a lack of trust among the Crusader countries, he was the only great king who was able to unite the Holy Land after his father Amalric died. His people were pleased with him. Despite being a Crusader commander, he did not want anyone to be treated unfairly, regardless of religion or race. But why did the king not feel proud when his people loved him so much?

When he looked at his reflection in the golden goblet he held in his hand, the answer to the question was actually very clear. Despite everything, he was the cursed king. He was weak and incapable for Muslims. How could a king who was struggling for his own health deal with state issues? He was also a servant lower than a pig. He was created so ugly because they did not believe in the same god. Just as ugly and useless as a pig. Saladin should have been ashamed of himself for being defeated by a king who was a child and a leper in the battle of Montgisard. But no one had thought about it. His smart moves in the army and state administration, his choice of advisors and the poor-looking king proved his power. He was the only king who came into being on the bed to manage the war. His courage had inspired the painter.

It was normal for Muslims to spread such prejudiced and hostile gossip, of course. But it was the Christians whose ideas he had to fight against. They thought that God had cursed Baldwin when he was born. He was the one God did not like. He knew how dark his soul was when he created him. When he grew up, the devil would be his guide. He was a cruel, barbaric ruler whose mind worked for nothing but evil. Leprosy was his mark and badge for his past and future sins. He was branded so that the people would notice and stay away from this devil.

He had long forgotten his identity. The man he saw in the reflection in the goblet, with a rotting skin, was either a pig or a devil.

But he was not human in either world. When he could no longer hide this curse and his fiancée did not even deign to write him a farewell letter, he lost the last feeling that would remind him of his humanity. Love. No one loved a pig, they would detest it. No one would stray from God's path and fall in love with the devil. He would rather die. And what were the feelings? What were the longing and love he felt in his heart? Moreover, what was the sadness that was hidden behind these two feelings and spread throughout his body? These feelings grew stronger after he received the news that the crown prince of France and his wife, the Byzantine Princess Maria, would arrive in Jerusalem tomorrow. Could a pig long for? Could a barbarian be sad, or could the devil love?

Baldwin could no longer bear to see the truth reflected in the globe and threw it to the ground. So many years passed. Baldwin stood strong against the gossip about him. He only loved his kingdom and swore to protect it. He rewarded the oppressed and punished the oppressors so that people could live in peace and not have hostile feelings. However, the seeds of love that had been waiting to sprout in his heart for years blossomed with the news that he would see the woman he loved again, and the king felt hopeless.

As the medicinal drink spilled from the glass that fell to the ground spread on the stone floor, the bare parts of his maskless, bandaged face reappeared before him like a nightmare. As his breathing rhythm quickened, he heard a voice.

"When the Physicians were preparing the drink, I could tell from the smell that it tasted bad."

When Baldwin looked in the direction of the voice, he saw William coming from the darkness. The only source of light in the room was the moonlight.

"William," he said, trying to hide his emotions, "I didn't hear you come in."

William smiled warmly. "You wouldn't have heard of it if there was a rebellion, your majesty, and forgive my impudence, but the reason for this has to do with your guests tomorrow."

Baldwin turned toward the city. "I was sure I would never see her again. But now, in the castle of Kerak, Raybald of Châtillon is hosting them."

William looked at the king. "Indeed, you should have known this day would come. Your relations with the Kingdom of France are strong."

"Maybe I was just afraid that day would come."

"You're still in love with her."

"Every minute I thought I had forgotten her, my longing for her grew my love."

"Princess Maria was a good match for you. She was very intelligent, kind, and combative. A fine queen for the Latin kingdom," he said, and the melancholy gaze of Baldwin, which he did not want to show, gave him away, caused William to apologize. "I apologize if I went too far, your majesty. I just wanted to recall a pleasant memory."

A beautiful memory. It was true. Every moment Baldwin spent with the princess was special. He could talk and laugh for hours about any memory he recalled. Baldwin was not born into a loving family. When he ascended to the throne, his kingdom was on the verge of division. His illness pretended him weak against his enemies. But in all his misfortunes, Maria was his white rose, and no matter how pessimistic he felt a moment ago, he now smiled because of her.

A bitter smile, ""Do you think she can still wield a sword skillfully?"

He had the same bitter smile on his face. ""There is no doubt about that, your majesty. Perhaps once they are settled in the palace you can challenge her to a duel and see for yourself."

Although this idea sounded nice at first, the facts were obvious. He replied in a reproachful tone, as if rebelling against fate. "How can I do this when I can't use my limbs and can't see in one eye, William, tell me!" He looked harshly.

"These words do not seem to belong to you, my king. Weren't you the king who learned to use a sword with his left arm because his right arm betrayed him at every opportunity? You designed special stirrups for your numb legs. You led fights with that blind eye of yours. Now don't tell me you avoided a duel with a 19-year-old young woman."

"I don't want her to see me like this, Will. My body is decaying day by day. God's curse is growing stronger and my resistance to pain is diminishing." He looked at the view again. "I don't want her to remember me like this. She confessed that she was amazed by my beauty the night we fell in love. He turned back to William and pointed his finger at his face. Look at my current state, the boy she fell in love with is dead. The Leper King was the end of that beautiful boy."

Baldwin suddenly felt unwell and William held him as he collapsed to the ground, his legs shaking.

"Your Majesty, you need to rest now."

William called to the servants to take Baldwin to bed. The servants came to them in a hurry and, taking kings arm, carried him to the bed. One left to get water. Another was adjusting his pillows. Finally William warned them to leave the room and approached Baldwin.

"You have always been a good boy, Baldwin. You are the best king the Latin Kingdom has ever seen. No ruler after you will be able to hold these lands together."

"I would not want this. I hope that people will recognize my efforts and protect the lands from hostile armies."

Before leaving William Baldwin's room, he spoke one last time. "Prince Hugh will take more care of you both, your majesty. Be careful."

Maria had been nervous since they arrived at the castle of Kerak. Representing the Komnenos dynasty had been a heavy burden on her shoulders. About six years before she was born, dark times had passed over Manuel I and the Byzantine lands. Constantinople had been sacked, the city almost destroyed. Châtillon had been the emperor's worst nightmare until Manuel took revenge on her. He disturbed the people as if he owned the Byzantine Empire. Maria's nanny would tell her these dark memories before she went to sleep at night. Maria was a naughty child and would tell the story that Châtillon would come back one night and kidnap the naughty children. But Maria always trusted her father. Although he seemed like an emperor who was afraid of the Turks and had a weak political mind, Maria was smart enough to understand her father's strategic steps. That's why she never feared Châtillon. Her father may have suffered great losses during those times, but later he took his revenge on Châtillon in a satisfactory way.

Baldwin did not attend her and Prince Hugh wedding. He was too tired to go to France. Otherwise, his death would have come sooner, and Saladin's army would have occupied Jerusalem long ago. Therefore, Reynald of Châtillon attended the wedding as regent. Emperor Manuel saw this as an insult, and the ties between him and the Latin kingdom were almost broken. But Baldwin, the Latin king, knew his former father-in-law well. He had observed the emperor very well during his engagement to his daughter, and had skillfully kept the bond between them together.

Despite everything, Châtillon must have been unable to stomach the emperor's revenge, for he was taking a jab at the princess who had joined them at the dinner table. He was talking badly about her father. He was making fun of the Byzantine Emperor, implying that if the emperor did not come under Crusader countries protection, the Muslims would give up Jerusalem and occupy Constantinople, and they would be successful. Therefore, it was very lucky for the princess to marry the son of the King of France. Maria would of course say something in response to these words, but the crown prince of France thought that women were stupid and should not meddle in state affairs. What did women know except intrigue, sex, and having children? Whenever Maria spoke, her husband humiliated her in front of the lords of the other kingdoms. She did not want to experience the same thing again. She felt sad enough when she thought of Baldwin anyway. But both Maria's and the prince's minds were changed by Châtillon's audacity. He had brought up the subject of Baldwin and the princess's broken engagement. Maria felt uneasy. She knew that her husband had always kept his eyes on her, for it was a sensitive subject.

When Châtillon noticed the tension between the two, he explained how strong the bond between her and Baldwin was. He had read Maria’s letters impudently several times before the curse of leprosy had set in. He disclosed some of the love poems in these letters. Of course, he could not remember the exact words, but he sang similar sentences with a mocking grin. Hearing these things made the Prince angry. The gold goblet in his hand almost bent, but he tried not to show it. He looked at his beloved wife with a meaningful smile. Not wanting to appear weak, he intervened. “I thought your engagement was a political agreement, my lady. Would you care to give me more details? I would like to hear it.” He brought the glass to his lips, finished the wine in one gulp, and slammed it down on the table.

However, Maria knew that the prince intended to ask her this question. If she was not satisfied with the answer he would give, his revenge would be severe. Hugh had threatened her with his dynasty. The prince was madly in love with her and knew that his love was unrequited. He was jealous of her in front of everyone and everything.

She was trying not to give away her lie as she pushed the toasted almonds on the Blancmange that had just been served into the rice fish paste mixture with the tip of her fork. "We were both kids at the time. Our alliance against his half-brothers brought us closer. These are childish feelings." These words were lies. Every emotion she experienced was too mature.

Raynald lifted his globe to his mouth and drank the spiced wine, smearing it through his filthy beard before scraping the remains of the wine away with the palm of his hand. "Your mind was capable of writing love poems as a child."

Prince Hugh gritted his teeth. He should have cut off the head of the daring man in front of him with his sword, but he was too arrogant to show his jealousy to anyone. Instead, he chose to show his anger to his wife by stroking Maria's hair harshly. She had to be careful.

She looked bravely at Reynald. Looking into his eyes, she put the Blancmange in her mouth and began to speak, ignoring the rules as she chewed. "I am flattered that you find the love poems written by a little girl mature. Yes, Baldwin and I were mature, and I was smart enough to see that you were a pain in the neck when you were still a mercenary."

Raynald looked to the prince to put the princess in her place, but Hugh agreed with his wife, and for once, though he didn't show it, he was pleased with her headstrong nature.

Then he looked at the princess with greed. "It was obvious that the daughter of the Byzantine emperor would not suit the future king of France."

Maria stood up, her chair leg scraping the floor. "Then you should know to watch your step when talking to me."

Then she turned respectfully, in a way that glorified her husband. "Master of my heart, if you allow me, I would like to go to the chapel and pray."

The prince was unsure of what to say. He did not want to be angry with his wife, for she had put Raynald in his place, who had insidiously planted the sin of jealousy in his heart. He was also flattered by his wife in front of the other lords and barons at the table. He only gave his wife permission to go to the chapel.

She grabbed the hem of her dress so as not to fall. So she left the room and walked quickly down the corridor. Talking about her memories with Baldwin broke her heart. His look, his smile, his conversation, his intelligence... She had never known a man like him in the Empire or the Kingdom of France. Her mind was always on her old love. She had stolen her own life. She spent her youth in the bed of a man she did not love, thinking of Baldwin. Now she was in pain and wanted to be alone, alone with the Virgin Mary.

One of her maids would come to her. She called to her lady, said that her son were crying uncontrollably. Little Philip needed his mother. She ignored the maids calling her as she ran down the hall. But the baby wanted her mother and was crying non-stop. But a child from a man she did not love would not be good for her right now.

She just wanted to go to the chapel and pray before the Virgin Mary. She was on her knees, placed her elbows on the altar. "Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Forgive me, I cannot guard my ideas from sin as I guard my chastity. Holy Mary, Mother of God. I am weak, the love that the devil has cultivated in my heart becomes sweeter to me every day that I do not see him. Please hear me, tear down the walls between us and inspire me to forget him. O Virgin, holy and merciful, obtain for all who offend thee the grace of repentance, and graciously accept this poor act of homage from me thy servant, obtaining likewise for me from thy Divine Son the pardon and remission of all my sins. Amen." She placed her palms crosswise on her chest. She was crying, convulsing with tears.

The prince and princess of France entered the holy lands with four horse guards in front and six behind to protect the gift chests. The royal coat of arms, the 'fleur-de-lys', was carved on wood on the body of the carriage, and the windows were covered with curtains in the color of the coat of arms's base color, the blue, thus completely cutting off communication between the people and the nobles.

But it was impossible not to notice such a long convoy. The children playing followed the horses and did not leave its vicinity, hoping to see who was behind the curtain. But the princess saw them. She had slightly parted the fabric and was enjoying the excited running of the children speaking in a language she did not know. Meanwhile, her husband, who was sitting next to her, distracted her by holding her hand. When the young princess turned her head to the prince, the smile on her face disappeared.

"Don't let children know you're looking at them, my lady. Then they'll have the brass face."

She looked at him smugly. "They are children. At least don't act arrogant towards children!"

Hugh gritted his teeth. He should have put her in her place, but their baby Philip’s nurse intervened to calm the anger between them. She smiled and called out to the princess as she sat across from her, put the baby to sleep in her arms.

"Your Majesty, in a few years your son will be running around the palace corridors just like them."

Maria smiled at the woman. "I hope he becomes a guardian of peace and justice." The word that crossed her mind was 'like Baldwin'. But she could not say it.

The nurse looked at the baby. "There is no doubt about it, my lady."

Prince Hugh was very angry with his wife. He could have given her a severe punishment, but his love was holding him back. Instead, he used his ambition for his son. He smiled arrogantly. "He will be a king in the Latin lands, a nightmare for Muslims! He will send the unbelievers to hell in this world. He will slaughter the unbelievers mercilessly. Otherwise, how can he be the commander of the Crusader armies?"

Maria hated herself for marrying such a cruel man. She could assure herself that the children's voices he heard outside had become screams of pain in his imagination. And look at the nobles who considered Baldwin a barbarian! What a disgrace! The princess was about to continue looking out the window in anger when she turned her head and caught the nurse's eye. The woman gave her no words. Her expression begged his majesty to be silent. For his well-being and peace. Maria smiled with tears in her eyes and did as he said, smiling slightly.

Meanwhile, William, who had received news that the royal carriage was approaching the palace, was giving orders for the final preparations. Sybilla had to make sure that the food and organization were perfect. The servants were arranging the prince and princess's favorite fruits and wines on the table in their rooms, and the gifts to be presented to the royal family were being counted in the great hall.

Baldwin lay on his back in his bed, surrounded by four physicians who were helping their assistants apply ointment to his wounds.

"Ah," sighed the king, "at last, my love. At last, I will be able to witness your beautiful smile again."

"Be a little faster!" But even that was tiring him. He was excited to greet them and wanted to stand up in defiance of God.

The physician warned the king, "Your Majesty, you must lie down for a day and wait for your skin to absorb the medicine. It will be more beneficial."

Baldwin gritted his teeth and spoke threateningly. “Are you disobeying my orders?”

The physicianstammered. He emphasized that he had been misunderstood. He apologized and ordered his assistants to hurry. After applying the herbal mixture to the king's wounds, they wrapped clean, white bandages crosswise, using two layers of cloth so that the skin would not be visible. Cotton fabrics in particular were imported from the Mediterranean. Otherwise, his completely covered skin would not be able to breathe and would become damp, and the amount of salt in his sweat would cause Baldwin to suffer in pain. In fact, the ointment was already hurting him enough.

One of his servants came to him with a silver cup in his hand and supported his back, allowing him to straighten up. Thus, he drank the healing water easily. As he was sliding the last sip from his lips to his mouth, William entered. He too might not have been in favor for king to welcome the royal family, but he knew that his life was short. Seeing the woman he loved should have been more important than the pain he would suffer. Who knows? Perhaps the last time they would meet would be Baldwin's funeral. Maria stood in front of her childhood love's coffin, crying heartily, and they would say goodbye to each other for the last time, and the only memory she had of him would be the metal mask.

"Your Majesty," he said with a wry smile on his face, "I have come to take you. News has come that they have almost arrived. Everything is ready in the outer courtyard. After the welcoming ceremony, you may proceed to the great hall."

Baldwin confirmed William and after the bandaging process was completed, he stood up. My God! For a moment, the King seemed to forget about the curse. He thought they were just like those two beautiful children from ten years ago. Two noble children who will live their love that has not been granted to anyone else. He hadn't even gotten help from anyone when he was sitting up in bed. Love must have been such a miraculous feeling. None of the physicians' ointments could give him the strength to stand up in minutes. The verses from the Bible that were read to cure his illness were of no use. Only his passionate longing for Maria gave him strength. It healed his melted bones and allowed his joints to bend freely. It allowed his joints to bend freely. Perhaps he would soon have the power to expand the borders of the Latin kingdom. But no! The truth had a bad habit of coming out at the wrong time. He was standing from William. He was only five steps away.

"Let's go." King said. At this moment, a servant called out to him, came to him with quick steps and held out the mask in his hand.

"Your majesty, mask!"

There's that Silver mask! The evil Witch who took him away from life. The King looked at the mask's artificial lips, hollow eyes, and metal eyebrows. He was the only person in the room who saw the mask's devilish grin. It was as if the mask was mocking him. He knew how much the woman he loved would pity him when she saw his sick body. And Baldwin's embarrassment must surely be the amusement of the mask. Once again the King was defeated. Although he had the arrogance of a king when he took the mask from the servant's hand, William knew the dramatic mood of the man he had known since childhood. So he supported the king with his words while his face was completely covered with a metal mask. When the servants grabbed his arm and tried to help him walk, he gestured with his hand for them not to come.

"The king looks quite healthy. No need."

William stepped back from the door and cleared the way for the king to exit.He clasped his hands in front of him and waited for Baldwin to come out. However, after their King left the room, William followed him to accompany, followed by the servants. It was noon. Light seeping through the corridor windows illuminated the gray stone walls. The designs and art of Arab architects were on display.

"My legs are shaking William. "This is not because of my illness," he said. He could keep Saladin and his armies away from his lands. He could win the battle. But for love, he was still young.

"I know, your majesty. Although not as excited as you, I'm excited to see the princess too."

Beautiful, attractive, innocent, seductive. Which word was more appropriate to say to the holy beloved? Which one would he choose to describe the relentless love inside him? Or were the other adjectives hidden behind these words what made his fall in love? Was it her stubborn and strong stance that made her seductive, was it her helpfulness and fairness that gave her the name of innocence, was it her white skin and wavy hair that reached down to her waist that made her attractive or was her beauty and grace necessary? There was no definite answer to these questions and even the answers that suddenly came to his mind were not enough to learn the reason for his feelings for her. The way he looked at her or the way she shyly looked away from him, he would now forbid each other. If their eyes met, it would be a sin. Then how would Maria have the courage to go to church again and ask for forgiveness?

All this was going on in the king's mind. When the horse carriage carrying the royal family entered the courtyard. The prince and princess were presented. The King was sitting on his throne waiting for them. But what he was most worried about was how he would react when he saw Maria. And that moment has come. As she descended the wooden steps of the carriage, Baldwin’s eyes went there. The years had made her a mature woman and made her beautiful. The dark brown tone of her hair had lightened, and blondes were mixed in between. Her skin was smooth as in her childhood. The cherry cheeks that adorned her snow-white face had not left her. A storm had formed in his heart, his love had turned into a natural disaster. When she descended the creaking steps and her feet touched the ground, Maria looked up at the king. Her honey-colored eyes sparkled. She had seen the child behind the metal mask in Baldwin’s eyes.

But the maid who got out of the carriage was carrying something in her arms that revealed the sin of their love. One of the heirs to the crown. Prince Philip. Maria's son by Prince Hugh. This child would have been theirs if this disease had not taken him prisoner. William expected the king to make a welcoming speech. But Baldwin seemed rather absent-minded. “Your Majesty,” he warned his king, “you must pull yourself together. The princess is now a married woman with a heir."

William was right. He had to come to his senses quickly and fulfill his duties as a king. The Latin King stood up, holding on to the arms of the prepared throne, and greeted the Prince and the Princess. He said it was a great honor for them to be here. Because he was on very good terms with King Louis VII of France. That's why it was such a pleasure for him to welcome the future heir, the Prince, and his wife, Princess Maria. Of course, when he saw Princess Maria next to the Prince, these words he said were completely fake. Even though he knew that Maria and the king were old childhood friends, the Prince did not allow Maria to speak and spoke to the king himself. Because he knew she still love this king with the ugly rotting skin. The king could not look at Maria. Because if he did, everything would be understood. So he averted his eyes, but Maria looked at her old friend William and smiled. Old memories had gathered in her eyes and came out.

William spoke up. "Your Majesty, if you wish, we can place the gifts of the Kingdom of France in the great hall. This will provide a much more intimate setting for the gifts presented during the banquet."

"Good thinking, William," Baldwin said. "Let's do what's necessary."

After the prince and the king finished speaking, they went inside. The servants showed the nobles to their rooms so they could get ready for the feast while their belongings were being put away.

Baby Philip had a separate room. They went to their rooms with the nurse.

When they came to the room, the bathtub was ready. The bathtub was made of white marble, shaped by marbles extracted from the Anatolian Seljuk lands. It was filled with water containing jasmine essence and leaves. Arab servants surrounded the bathtub, one had a silver tray, a loofah and soap on it. The other had a loincloth in his hand.

Princess Maria knew that Muslims were very clean. This was the most important thing for Islam and they were very contemptuous of people who were not clean.

The servants took off Maria's clothes, covered her private parts with a loincloth, and holding her hand, they sat her in the tub.

A woman took a copper bowl and dipped it into the jasmine water in the bathtub and poured it on the princess's hair. The cold drops of water cooled the roots of her warm hair. The weather was so hot here that the coolness of the water was a relief to her. She leaned her head on the edge of the tub and positioned herself so the other woman could massage her shoulder.

Her muscles, which had been tense due to sadness and her husband's irritable character, began to relax. The woman's delicate fingers were moving around the girl's shoulders and neck. The drops of water that had begun to dry on her skin were keeping it cool in the hot air. She was half asleep, half awake, dreaming but barely aware of what was happening. She didn't even realize when the woman's delicate, thin fingers were replaced by thick, calloused ones. Baldwin was in her dreams. She was sitting in the arbor of the palace in Constantinople, in the gardens with their many varieties of flowers, with Baldwin's head on Maria's lap. His eyes were looking up, into the honey-colored eyes of his beloved wife. The sun was streaming through the wooden planks of the arbor and making the heavens in Baldwin's blue eyes shine. She stroked his light golden brown hair. His skin was soft and shiny, just like when he was a child, and his lips were thin and small.

"My beautiful lover." He said. But voice was not like him. "Are you thinking about me?" The girl's eyebrows furrowed. As if this was a rebellion against passing into the real world. She opened her eyes and sat up. When she looked up, she saw Hugh sitting on the edge of the tub, looking at his wife with longing. But the same was not true for the princess.

She was serious. "What are you doing?"

Hugh replied as she stood up, using the sides of the tub for support. "I thought my wife missed me." He stood up too and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

Maria lowered her eyes, raised one hand, and asked the maids to help her get out of the tub. But the prince was on edge against his wife's cold attitude. He watched with anger as he was left alone.

The servants were massaging Maria's body with various oils and combing her hair. Meanwhile, her assistant was choosing a beautiful outfit for the banquet. But Maria was nervous. She and Hugh had not touched each other for a long time. They had never brought each other to the perfect peak of orgasm. That letter from the Latin palace had changed something and the prince was aware of it. She knew that Hugh would use the maids to do this. Even though he knew that adultery was one of the greatest sins, the prince felt entitled to it. Perhaps he wanted to make the woman he loved jealous and take revenge. But he never achieved his goal. Because Maria could never love her husband enough to be protective or jealous of him.

As if it were a ritual, a rite, he would ask for sexual intercourse in the palace of the man she loved. He wanted to trouble her conscience.

While her dress and jewelry were being prepared for the feast, the servants dressed Maria in a white silk nightgown, the sleeves of which were wide and connected to the skirt like bat wings.

When the princess returned to bedroom, she did not see her husband. This was a relief to her.

"Where would you like me to put these clothes, my lady?" Maria was startled by the old woman's question. She answered with a faint smile on her face. "Put them where the emerald green surcoat is."

Then she went to her jewelry. They were in a carved wooden chest on the table. She put her fingers inside and began to rummage through the earrings, necklaces, and rings. The necklace she would wear to the banquet was very special. Among the betrothal gifts that Emperor Manuel had burned or distributed to the poor, the only gift Maria had saved was the beautiful necklace designed by Baldwin. The pearls hanging from the edges of the gold collar surrounding the red beryl, emerald, and alexandrite stones...

She called her maid over and told her that she would be wearing this necklace as an accessory to the dress they had chosen. The woman was fascinated as soon as she saw the necklace. "This is very beautiful, your majesty."

About ten minutes later, the prince called out to his wife, who was giving instructions to her maids to put away the clothes. "You must be happy to see your childhood sweetheart, my love." Maria was startled by her husband's voice as she smoothed down the pearl-embroidered dress in her hand. She ran her fingers over the soft texture of the shiny fabric and handed it to the maid. "The same topic again?" Then she looked at her husband. "That's in the past, you know. Ten years is a long time to forget."

Hugh grabbed his wife's arm tightly and turned her towards him. He clenched his teeth and swallowed. "For the mind, yes, but for your heart? Was ten years enough?"

Maria did not say a word, and that was an answer for Hugh. He squeezed his wife's arm tighter. The young woman groaned, feeling the pain in her arm deeply. She frowned under the pain and tried to pull away. "Leave me alone!"

The maids were disturbed by the tension between husband and wife and did not know what to do.

Hugh brought his face closer to hers. "If that's true, I swear..." he was cut off by a knock on the door.

Maria looked into her husband's eyes without the slightest trace of love.

She ordered. "Come in!"

The young servant girl ran to Princess Maria and bowed before her.

"Your Majesty, forgive me. Your son Philip, I believe, needs your help."

Prince Hugh was also angry. Were all those nannies interested in his heir? Just as he was about to attack the young girl, Maria grabbed his arm. "My prince, please! Have some patience!" She was worried. "Is everything okay? What's wrong?"

The girl was not very good at lying, she stammered. "He wouldn't stop crying. We thought he needed his mother. The mother's scent calms babies."

Hugh glanced at his wife contemptuously. "Your motherhood is as bad as your wifehood!”

Without saying anything, Maria left her husband and ordered the young girl to take her son.

The maid was escorting the princess to the room where Philip was staying. Maria noticed that she was quite excited. She had thought of scenarios such as her son being sick. She started asking the girl questions. Was her son sick? Maybe something bad happened to him and they were afraid of the prince and didn't tell her. The girl's nervous attitude made the princess even more nervous. "Stop, I order you!"

The girl stopped suddenly and looked like a child being scolded by her mother. Maria could see how frightened her face was in the candlelight. "What's the matter? You look very nervous."

The girl stuttered and pointed to the hallway behind Maria. “This way, my lady.” Maria swallowed and looked at the hallway the girl was pointing to. It looked much more ornate than the others. The work on its door was magnificent and decorated with gold leaf.

Maria frowned. "Philip isn't there, is he?"

The girl shook her head. “No, your majesty. Just come in. He’s waiting for you there.”

When the soldiers waiting at the door saw Maria, they immediately moved and opened the door. Maria knew very well who was waiting for her inside. She walked through the door with excited steps and went out to the balcony with the most beautiful view of Jerusalem. The two soldiers standing here welcomed their princess and escorted her to the door leading to their king's chamber.

The soldiers brought the princess to the door and left. Maria took a deep breath, knocked on the door and entered that was nervous. It was the first time she had done something in secret from her husband. She was sure he would punish her if he knew where she was. She could not leave the bedrooms. He would put guards at the bedroom doors.

She looked around. The objects were as if they were showing off in the light of evening with sun. This was not the room he had stayed in as a child. It was his father's room and its size was dazzling. It was a room worthy of a young king of the Holy Land. Maria looked at the bed across from her in admiration. Her childhood love was resting in this bed, leaving his scent on these sheets. She slowly approached the bed and picked up the burgundy-colored pillow. She wrapped her arms around it tightly, as if she were hugging Baldwin. She buried her head in the soft texture of the pillow and breathed in the scent. It smelled just as she remembered. It was so clean, smelled of soap and incense.

The princess remembered the dream she had the night of their engagement. It was a terrifying nightmare, to be exact. She had longed to speak to the bishop of Hagia Sophia. Even though the priest had interpreted her nightmare positively, Maria was always anxious. She was afraid of the end of their epic love. And one day, those things she feared separated them until death. When all these memories came to life before her eyes, a small smile appeared on her face. However, her eyes denied this smile and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"Is that you William? I've been waiting for you." It was Baldwin's voice, and it came from afar. Maria, with the remorse of her sin, did not want to be caught by Baldwin, and her whole body trembled. When she turned her head to the silk tulle curtain that separated the room, she saw his silhouette and dropped the pillow in her lap to the floor.

Take the pillow or leave the room… While she was trying to choose the right way in this dilemma, Baldwin pulled the veil aside and entered.

“Maria, you…” Baldwin stood there in shock and could not finish his sentence.

There he was, Baldwin. The man whose happiness she had forgotten for years with his longing was standing right in front of her. Baldwin was no different. He felt much stronger now. He never expected to meet those meaningful eyes again. Alone. It was as if their cursed love had flared up again.

Baldwin did not want Maria to get into a difficult situation. As soon as he saw Maria approaching him, he spoke up. "It is not right for you to be here, my lady. Please do not do this to us."

Maria, on the other hand, was determined. She had been imprisoned by a man she did not love for years, and when she could no longer stand this torture, the man who was her ray of hope stood before her.

They were standing face to face when she replied, "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

Her hands were on groin, her nails tearing at the flesh on the sides of her fingers.

Baldwin replied, his voice filled with reproach. "You gave up on me, Maria. I learned of our separation from the letter your father sent to the palace. You didn't care to send a farewell letter."

Maria was crying. She looked into the king's eyes. "This is not true. I swear."

"Tell me what is right," he said. "Of course you couldn't go against your family, I understand that. But what about your love? Your fear got in the way of your love, and I couldn't read your last letter that smelled of roses, is that right?"

"No. You don't know how strict my father is. I wrote you letters many times. I wanted to send them secretly, but my nanny betrayed me. That's why I always got caught. I gave up because a young girl died in pain because of the letters I wrote you. I wasn't afraid of my father, Baldwin. I didn't want innocent people to suffer because of me." The words barely escaped her lips as she sobbed.

The girl took Baldwin's right hand, wrapped in a white bandage, and caressed it. But the effects of leprosy were beginning to set in again, and his arm was numb. What a disappointment it was not to be able to feel the woman he loved while she held his hand! "Oh God, please," he whispered. He did not care how great a sin adultery was. He wanted to feel the touch of the woman he loved. He wanted to experience the sexual urges he felt for the only woman in his life, past and future, who would love him. Not now, his inner voice said. He did not want to die without being drunk with Maria's love.

Baldwin took his right arm and pulled it from Maria's hands. He held out his left hand. "Come on Maria, come with me. We have a lot to talk about," he said. Although the princess realized that Baldwin could not use his right arm, she did not show anything so as not to upset him. So they went behind the silk veil.

The evening view of Jerusalem was almost under their feet. They sat on the couch. Their eyes met suddenly. It was the first time Maria saw her friend, her love, with a mask on his face, and it was painful for her soul.

"God has given you the most beautiful design of all his creations, Maria. You took me back to my childhood."

Maria smiled. "You too, my dear. The innocent, well-intentioned child standing before me has not changed at all."

Baldwin took offense. "You needn't pity me. I have been the god-cursed king for too long."

Maria put her hand on Baldwin's silver mask. Since she couldn't touch his skin, she had to be content with this. "You're still that boy I fell in love with." She caressed the cold, hard, emotionless mask. "The eyes looking with courage and hope. That boy whose character and heart I admired, has now grown up and become the greatest king the Latin Kingdom will ever witness."

There was surprise in Baldwin's voice. "Do you really think so?" He knew what was being said about him outside the borders of the kingdom. Even Saladin did not take him seriously at first. Until he saw that the king was a formidable enemy, he didn't respected him. Still, his illness had become a symbol of bad luck in many kingdoms, especially Byzantium, and had caused political relations to be damaged. If an agreement was made with the Latin kingdom, the curse of God would be poured upon them.

"Even if you gave me all the jewels in the world, it wouldn't satisfy me as much as your love." Her lips trembled, the area around her eyes turned red.

She was trying to control herself not to cry. She brought her face closer to Baldwin and buried her head in his neck, witnessing his scent and warmth. "You are not only the king of the holy land, but also the king of my heart," she said.

Baldwin was ashamed. He had never been so loved and pampered by a woman. He could even see his mother at political meetings. It had been a long time since he felt like a man. He had forgotten that he was a man because in other kingdoms he was nothing. Muslims called him a pig because they did not believe in the same God. Andalusian Arab historians spoke of him as a disgusting creature. According to Christians, he was the child of the devil and God punished him with ugliness and pain as a price for the cruelty and misery he would bring to the world. Jews living in his kingdom cursed their kings because they were not under the rule of a glorious king and prayed for his death. However, even though all that was left of that beautiful child was a piece of rotten flesh, he was reminded that he was human by the woman he loved, without knowing what he had become.

"You are here with me now, Maria. We may never meet again, but it is a great chance that you are here with me now."

Maria tried to smile, but tears were flowing relentlessly down her cheeks and down her chin, dampening Baldwin's white bandage. "I beg you, don't talk like that! Make me forget about reality for one night. Let's be in a fairy tale. Kiss me and let us to live happily ever after."

"I promise, Maria. I'll only make you live your fairy tale tonight."

Maria wrapped her arms around Baldwin's still feeling hand and lifted it into the air. She brought her lips close and kissed it longingly, many times.

Baldwin kept his word and wanted to talk about the good times.

"After reading the letter from the French court, William and I discussed whether she could still use a sword."

Maria wiped her tears and smiled. "I haven't used a sword since I got married. Hugh says it's not for women."

"It is unfair, the land of France has lost its best knight."

Maria shrugged. "If you're not my opponent, I don't care."

Baldwin's voice was full of affection. "We can reminisce whenever you want."

Maria snuggled up to Baldwin. She leaned her head on his chest. "It's okay, I don't want you to get tired."

Baldwin's numb arm was finally beginning to get feel, and he lifted his arm with difficulty and effort, and as he gently stroked Maria's hair, she looked happily at him without lifting her head from his chest.

"Maria, my beautiful queen. While my illness cannot prevent me from fighting the Ayyubids and leading my army, shall I miss the chance to duel with you? I will definitely be ready for it tomorrow."

"I would be honored, my king," said Maria. If she had married Baldwin, she would have been queen, and in their correspondence Baldwin always referred to Maria as "my queen." The fact that he addressed her with the same title, just like in the old days, showed the greatness of the love in his heart.

At the end of this entertaining conversation, Baldwin grew quiet. There was an inexplicable sadness in his voice. "You said your father was strict. You said a girl died because of us, Maria. What have you been through?"

Maria lowered her eyes as she remembered. Her eyes were red and a few tears slid down her cheeks to her chin.

"Several times one of the young maids helped me to smuggle letters into my room. The niche in the wall where i had once kept my doll was filled with letters from you. But the day the nanny discovered our secret, father showed no mercy. "she sobbed . "The young girl was punished by the priest reading verses from the Bible, supposedly purifying herself from her sins. Hot irons, daggers and hot oil. The girl fainted many times due to this unbearable pain and her weak body could not stand it anymore. The girl died."

"I never thought the emperor would be so afraid of our love that he would slander God. No God would allow such a punishment to be given to a virgin girl."

"I couldn't write you back. Because I never got to your last letter. The last time I saw it was among the gifts from you were being burned, in the middle of courtyard." She was sobbing and repeated over and over, "Forgive me, forgive me, my love."

Baldwin's heart ached as if it had been thrown into fire, and it was because of sadness and despair that Maria has.

"If I had a chance, if this curse would leave me alone, I would make you the happiest woman in the world," he said, stroking her hair.

But Maria, angered by this statement, rose harshly from her king's lap, her hands resting on Baldwin's groin, gripping the fabric of his robe tightly. "Please stop cursing your illness! You shouldn't care what people think. And I don't believe the thing what they think God says in bible. God holds you up as an instance to all; the kingdom of heaven is strengthened in your hands."

Baldwin put his bandaged hand around the girl's neck and pulled back the hair that covered her beautiful neck. "How can you be so sure about God, Maria? Are the priests wrong?"

"Did you not show your power, despite the limitations of your illness, and become a king loved by your people and respected by your enemies? You keep a part of God within you. You are not that man hated by God, Baldwin. If you were, I cannot imagine the illness that Hugh would have suffered," she said, laughing wryly at the last sentence.

When Baldwin returned her smile, Maria could tell by the sound he made as he laughed. and Maria thought.

"I would like to see your smile, enslaved by the mask, one last time, my dear," she said. There was sadness on her face.

Baldwin was embarrassed. "You know it's impossible, Maria."

Maria frowned. There was a half-mocking look on her face. "Why is that impossible? Has the evil witch completely transformed your face into a silver mask?"

"No, of course not. But the man under the mask has already killed the beautiful boy you remember."

"Then how come I'm looking into that boy's eyes?"

Maria slid off the couch and sat on her knees on the floor, looking pleadingly at the man she loved. For Baldwin, this was the moment he had feared.

"I beg you, let me touch your skin one last time, my dear."

The healers did not yet know about leprosy. There was only suspicion in their conversations. Despite this, they made definite statements and the worst thing was that it was contagious. Moreover, the woman he loved wanted to touch him. If anything happened to her, she would never forgive herself. Even this idea was enough to terrify him and he quickly stood up. He was going towards the window to get away from her.

"No, Maria. Don't ask me to do this!" But his muscles had become one with his illness and betrayed him once again. Baldwin lost control of his body for a moment and stumbled. Maria cried out as he lost his balance. "My love!"

Baldwin was down on one knee, his left hand on the ground, supporting his arm.

He felt that the woman he loved had hold his arm to save her king. When he looked up, Maria looked at him with a feeling that was companions of love and fear.

"Oh Maria." He didn't want her to see him like this, but fate betrayed him once again.

Baldwin got up with Maria's help. There was almost no distance between them. They were looking into each other's eyes with love. Despite the illness, the fake marriage, the years that passed, their love had not diminished even for a day. They could see the storms in the sea of love in their eyes.

"Come on, let me touch you one last time, Baldwin."

"If it infected to you, then I'll die."

"Nothing will happen, I promise."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I have what those incompetent healers lack."

"What was that?"

"Wouldn't some stupid servant have been infected by now?" Maria put her hand on the mask. "If they understood enough about the disease to be sure it was contagious, why couldn't they find a cure?"

Baldwin took Maria's hand and caressed it. "Okay then, I'll take off my mask. But if you care about me at all, don't ask to see my face."

Maria objected. “But…” But Baldwin was determined.

"I want you to always remember me as beautiful, Maria. Like that child whose beauty you admired and confessed to. Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my short life as an unhappy man."

Although Maria wanted to prove that she would love him in any way possible, Baldwin's request prevented her. Maybe not with words, but nodded, avoiding her eyes.

She closed her eyes and waited. But the king had another plan. When he left the dream queen and did not return for a while, Maria opened her eyes. Baldwin approached her with a piece of black cloth in his hand. He knew that Maria was a stubborn girl, so he had to make sure her eyes were closed. His hair, made of golden threads, had fallen out, leaving a purulent, bloody scalp in its place. His facial anatomy, which resembled a Greek statue, was now in a state of great destruction. His lips were falling apart, the bones in his nose were melting. He was not ready for Maria to see him like this, and he would never be ready. His concreteness should live as a memory, in Maria's dreams.

He lifted the cloth up and folded it into a strip to fit his eyes. It was much better this way. He could now let her touch him freely. He placed the piece of cloth over Maria's eyes, wrapped it around her head, and tied it at the back as ribbon. When her eyes closed, the pinkness of her sweet lips could be seen in all its glory. What wouldn't he give to kiss those lips? Her kiss reminded him of God's forgiving side. But all he had to do was get rid of the mask. He took it off, praying that everything would go well.

While Maria was waiting for Baldwin, the world was pitch black for her. It was like a blind man trying to witness life. Her ears were much more sensitive now. She could hear the friction of the silver mask sliding across his skin. She waited. She waited for the best moment for Baldwin.

"Are you ready?" he asked. Maria had been ready for him years ago.

Baldwin gently held the girl's wrists, as cautiously as if he were holding a glass rose branch. He could not control his breathing rhythm in excitement as he brought her delicate fingers close to his deformed face. And when her fingertips finally touched his rough skin, Maria sighed with joy. He needed to feel this warmth so much that he had finally managed to overcome the despair that had been following him for years.

“Baldwin,” she said, her voice catching in her breath. The happy expression on her face gave way to a sad plea. She took his face between her hands and caressed his cheeks with the thumbs. "I missed you so much. I had a hard time not rebelling against the fate that separated us. But God rewarded me with you for my wait."

"You are the only sin I do not regret, the only sin I will not beg God to forgive me, Maria," Baldwin said. Nontheless Maria's fingers seemed to be trying to explore the face of the man she loved. She saw nothing. If someone else had been standing in front of her instead of Baldwin, it would not have mattered. Still, she saw the anatomy of his face not with her eyes but with her touch. Baldwin's words fueled the impossible love she felt for him.

"You too, my love," she said, rising on her toes and pressing her lips against the calloused, chapped lips of the man she loved. A passionate act that proves that she doesn't care about his illness. Maria's lips were the heaven Baldwin had not experienced in this life. Baldwin's lips must have been dark sin for a married woman. But this sin was only the price of their desperate separation.

They said goodbye to each other for the last time, feeling their skin, before their love was lost in the sands of Jerusalem. Baldwin's virgin lips were alive with a woman's lust, and he didn't want this moment to end. God, I wish time would stop right now. If only the fairy tale these two poor lovers were living would never end.

Maria put one arm around the king's neck. With her other hand she felt around his body and found his hand and held it. She put his hand on her breasts. She squeezed his hand together to show him that she wanted him to caress it. Baldwin's hand was on the princess's breast while her hand was on his hand. Their kisses were much more passionate now. Their tongues were dancing on the wet skin. Their lips were in awe, as if they were reading a verse from the Bible. Baldwin slid his hand from his princess's breast and down to the curve of her waist. Her body shape had such an aesthetic. Her rounded lines were satisfactory. He almost lost himself in the complicated paths of love. But he suddenly remembered that he had to protect the honor and dignity of the woman he loved. He didn't want her to see her as an unchaste woman who was cheating on husband with another man. Baldwin turned away from her. “We must stop now, my lady,” he said. “This is not right for you.” He took his mask from the table where it had been placed and began to place it on his face.

"But we both want this. Or have you given up on loving me?"

He was so close to her as he untied her blindfold, he could feel her body heat. "Maybe my body will not live thirty years, but my soul will be exalted with love for you, my queen." He said. When she removed the tape completely, Maria was once again face to face with the mask that had ruined the life of the man she loved. But despite everything, she was grateful that she could look into his eyes. "Forever," he said and she looked into his beautiful eyes as he finished the sentence.

Maria's eyes got wet again. "My love is yours forever, my king," she replied.

Unfortunately, the end of this miraculous moment came early. William called out before entering. She was startled.

"Your Majesty, I have to take the princess away now."

Baldwin caressed the girl's cheek one last time. "My moon-skinned love, with eyes brighter than the sun. You gave me the most beautiful gift in the world. Thank you, I am grateful to you."

He had so much more to say, but whatever he didn't talk about turned into tears in his eyes after she left. He had to calm down before going to the banquet and pretend that this moment had never happened.

[learnerofislam]

And you will find Allah during your darkest days even being born as a Muslim you will find Islam when no conversation could heal you except the conversation with Allah, who is Ash-Shafee (The Healer).

May Allah guide all of us to follow His Straight Path- The Path of Truth. Ameen✨️

[icarusignite]

Hey! I don't know if this is the proper format (still kind of new here) but I'm sending in this prompt for an Alfred × Reader fic. There's this idea for him that was stuck in my head a couple months ago. So…

It's set either S2 or S3 but it fits better in S3 or the break between 2 and 3. Alfred is really ill which isn't unusual for him, but this time he's taking a lot longer for him to heal and he's deteriorating more seriously than he normally would.

People in court start looking around for new healers and remedies. Alfred is also kind of desperate because he doesn't want to die before England is complete or Edward is ready to take over.

Reader, who is a healer, comes to court with the intention of helping Alfred. She's neither Dane nor Saxon, if you're comfortable with it she could be of Asian or African origin/descent (eg Father Benedict in S5). She's either Muslim or Christian, either way she's well read and a bit of a scholar (if you've seen Vikings: Valhalla S2, there's a female character that might ring a bell). She's also able to reassure him, like Iseult, that she's treating him with nature's bounty and nothing sinister.

Because she's a scholar (also maybe a Christian), Alfred is comfortable that she's not practicing witchcraft so this helps him accept her more easily. It also helps them bond and they become really close friends over the course of the months she spends treating him. They have fun banter and he's able to feel like Alfred, the man around her instead of King Alfred. Then he realizes that he has feelings for her.

At this point it could go any way really. Does Aelswith factor into it much or not? Does reader reciprocate his feelings or not? If she does, would she be comfortable giving into them and being a mistress? Is Aelswith even in the picture or is this a slight AU? Do they have a sad, happy or bittersweet ending? Idk

For extra spice, Reader could also be good friends with Uhtred or Finan which makes Alfred a little jealous but also sad because he thinks that she'd probably prefer the charming, handsome, potentially single, strapping man to whatever measly affection he could offer her.

Ideally, it would be fluff or smut but whatever you're comfortable writing is fine! Sorry if this is too long but I wanted to be as clear as possible 😅. I also understand if this is too much for a oneshot and you forego the idea entirely

Alfred the great x POC! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Heyy, so sorry this took literally eons to finally write. Thank you for your lovely request and also thank u for your patience <3 Hope you enjoy what I've done with your idea, and dw this will have another part where I'll explore their chemistry more. I watched a bunch of Alfred edits to get in the mood and ngl I'm lowkey in love with him now lmfao. 

Disclaimer: there might be some (a lot) historical discrepancies because I didn't line up the dates exactly but I did find out that the Golden Age of Islam overlapped significantly with the dates that the last kingdom spans so the reader is a prominent scholar from Baghdad. Also, Aelswith is dead (I'm sorry T_T) cuz I don't love a cheating trope even when it is sort of historically accurate. So we have single dad Alfred lol. 

The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

Entering King Alfred's throne room, your senses were immediately awakened by the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and scents of Wessex. The room itself was a stark contrast to the opulent palaces and grand courts of Baghdad that you were accustomed to. The room was spacious, yet its decoration was surprisingly humble and simple, adorned with rough-hewn wooden beams and modest tapestries that depicted various scenes of English myths and prominent events. With a flash of triumph, you found that you recognized some of them from your studies of the English culture. A faint scent of burning wood from the hearth permeated the air with an earthy aroma.

You observed the nobles in attendance, or the ealdormen as they were called here, their attire markedly different from the splendid silks and jewels of Baghdad's court. Here, the people wore simpler garments made of sturdy wool and linen, in the dark colours of the earth as opposed to the the vibrant clothing the people of your home favoured.

Your gaze then turned to the throne itself. It was a robust wooden chair, its design austere yet imposing, lacking the grandeur of the magnificent thrones you had imagined English kings liked to occupy. King Alfred's regal figure atop the throne created a dignified presence. His clothing, matched the style of his ealdormen, long simple robes of a dull grey. The seat next to him was empty and you briefly wondered about his family. The chronicles you had read stated that a king's wife usually took her place beside him when he held court, but you did not know much of Alfred's wife.

Your fingers itched for your writing instruments, yearning to document all your observations and the happenings of the court. You seldom went anywhere without them, but now they remained tucked away in your satchel as you waited for the king to acknowledge your presence. You knew he had seen you enter, his eyes briefly meeting yours, even as he conversed with his ealdormen. Eventually, your thoughts began to wander and you couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between the scorching heat of Baghdad and the chilly bite of autumn in Wessex. your flowing linen tunic and trousers, so comfortable in the sweltering desert of your homeland, felt inadequate against the cold English air that seeped through the cracks in the stone walls.

You discreetly rubbed your tingling fingertips together, trying to generate some warmth, as the fire blazing at the hearth did little to banish the chill that had settled in your bones. Your longing for the warmth of the caliphate's sun was keenly felt in this unfamiliar and frigid environment.

Impatience welled up within you as you glanced around the chamber, noting the courtiers' stoic expressions and hushed conversations. The king's deliberations seemed to stretch on endlessly, and you found yourself yearning for the moment when you could finally present your credentials and seek the audience you had travelled so far to obtain.

King Alfred's voice finally called out your name, his voice echoing through the chamber.

"Esteemed lady, I welcome you to the court of Wessex."

The ealdormen, accustomed to the formalities of their court, were taken aback when you did not bow or curtsy as was expected. Instead, you offered a polite smile and tipped your head in a gesture of respect.

A murmur of surprise and disapproval rippled through the assembled courtiers. Some whispered that your behaviour was disrespectful, a breach of protocol. They exchanged curious glances, wondering how their king would react to this departure from tradition.

However, King Alfred took no offence. With a gracious nod, he signalled for you to speak.

"Thank you, your grace. It is an honour to be here."

Your accent was soft, lending your words a foreign intonation, and each syllable was carefully enunciated. You had spent months learning the language, and you weren't about to embarrass yourself now by messing up your pronunciation.

"I extend my deepest gratitude to you for undertaking such a long and arduous journey at my request. I hope the discomfort of the voyage did not prove too taxing."

"Your Majesty," you replied, "it was a journey of great honour for me, and I hope to make myself useful here."

King Alfred nodded appreciatively and then turned to a servant standing nearby.

"Please, ensure that the lady is provided with comfortable quarters and all the amenities she may require during your stay in Wessex."

The servant bowed in acknowledgment and stepped forward to escort you to your residence within the royal palace. You thanked the king once more for his hospitality and assistance before following the servant out of the chamber.

As you left the throne room, your observant nature couldn't help but take note of King Alfred's condition. Despite his attempt to appear at ease in his chair, you had perceived the subtle signs of discomfort. His favouring of his left side, indicating pain or injury to his right, and the unusually pallid complexion for an Englishman raised concerns in your scholarly mind. That was your purpose, after all, to try to diagnose and hopefully cure the ailing monarch.

Just when you were gone, the noblemen of King Alfred's court wasted no time in flocking around him, their curiosity piqued by the arrival of the enigmatic woman. They bombarded the king with questions and voiced their concerns about the unfamiliar customs you had displayed.

One nobleman, his voice dripping with skepticism, remarked, "Your Majesty, did you see that? She didn't bow or curtsy as she should have! It's as if she has no respect for you."

Another, eyeing your unusual attire and complexion, chimed in, "And her clothing, Your Grace! It's unlike anything I've ever seen in Wessex. She's clearly not from anywhere near England. What could she possibly want here?"

The murmurs of disapproval and suspicion spread among the courtiers, as they exchanged perplexed glances. To them, your arrival was an anomaly, and your behaviour had raised eyebrows and questions.

King Alfred, his countenance calm and measured, raised a hand to quell the growing unease.

"I understand your concerns, but there is nothing to worry about" he began, addressing their concerns. "The lady you have just met is a prominent figure from Baghdad. She has travelled from a distant land to be here and she is not here to defy our traditions or customs. She is a scholar seeking to further her studies in Wessex. Her journey to our land is a great honour, as it reflects the recognition of the importance of our own intellectual pursuits."

His tone left no room for further skepticism. He also did not mention the other reason you were there, as he did not wish to reveal the truth of his declining health. As the nobles filtered out of the room, somewhat still unsatisfied by his answer, Alfred couldn't help but remain still, his mind going over the recent developments. When he had first written to the Abbasid Caliphate to request that he be allowed to host a medical scholar at his court, he had to admit he was not expecting a woman, and certainly not one so beautiful.

The next day, Alfred summoned you to his private chambers for a consultation regarding his health. As you entered the room, he couldn't help but notice the change in your attire. Gone was the flowing linen tunic and trousers, replaced by a sturdier, more practical woollen English dress. The deep blue gauzy veil, however, was still draped around your head and flowed down your back.

The English clothing seemed to complement you, accentuating your elegance in a way that was both unexpected and captivating. The king, not for the first time, found himself admiring you, though he kept such thoughts to himself, mindful of the formal context of your meeting.

You, ever the professional scholar, maintained a polite and formal distance as you began your examination of the king. You inquired about his symptoms, listening attentively to his description of the pain and discomfort he had been experiencing. Your deep knowledge and keen medical insight were evident as you asked probing questions and conducted a thorough assessment.

After a careful evaluation, you began to discuss your observations and your initial diagnosis with the king. You explained your thoughts on the potential causes of his discomfort and suggested a course of treatment. King Alfred was grateful for your expertise, and couldn't help but be struck by your intellect. He had a thirst for knowledge himself and he appreciated the quality in others when he saw it. In you he recognized a passion for learning and documentation, one he held himself as well. After the medical examination, he extended an invitation to you to remain in his chambers and share a cup of tea. Initially hesitant, you eventually agreed, recognizing the value of the opportunity to engage in conversation with the English monarch.

Seated in the warmth of the chamber, Alfred began to share with you the rich history of England, its struggles, its triumphs, and its cultural tapestry. He spoke of the challenges of the Anglo-Saxon period, the battles against the Danes, and the enduring spirit of the English people. As he narrated the history of his land, Alfred couldn't help but notice how your eyes lit up with a deep fascination, even though you attempted to contain your enthusiasm. Your questions flowed naturally as you probed deeper into the history and culture of Wessex. You asked about the Anglo-Saxon kings, the legends and folklore, and the development of the English language.

You kept diligent notes in your little notebook, your hand swiftly capturing every detail of the conversation. Your keen intellect and insatiable thirst for knowledge were evident, and your genuine interest in Alfred's words warmed his heart. It had been quite a while since anyone had paid such rapt attention to what he was saying, and he found himself rejuvenated by your exchange.

As a lull settled over your conversation, Alfred's curiosity got the better of him. With a twinkle in his eye, he leaned forward and said, "My lady, I must admit, I'm quite curious about the contents of that notebook of yours. What sort of information have you been documenting to take back to your homeland?"

You smiled, your demeanour more relaxed than when you had first come in, "Your Majesty, you need not worry. I promise you, I haven't written that the English are fire-breathing trolls."

Alfred felt a grin tug at his lips, but he suppressed the urge, keeping his hands folded placidly over his stomach.

"Well, you know, if we English could breathe fire, we might have an easier time dealing with our enemies!"

"There is a trick that performers back home use, to give the illusion of breathing fire. The science behind it is quite fascinating. Perhaps I shall explain it to you sometime."

"Ah yes my lady, you have filled your book with our tales, but have yet to share yours. Do you have any secrets from the East that you'd like to share with us humble English folk?"

You couldn't help but smirk at his words, "I'm afraid some secrets are best left in the lands where they belong, your grace. We wouldn't want you to start brewing Persian tea incorrectly, now would we?"

"I doubt it can compete with our tried and trusted English tea."

"You only think that way because you haven't tried Persian tea yet. Trust me, once you have, there's no going back."

"I suppose you make a fair point! Although, I must admit, the thought of trying to decipher the intricacies of Arabic calligraphy is rather tempting."

You paused, your light-hearted nature urging you to make another joke but you strictly reminded yourself that you were in the presence of a king. It would do you no good to offend him with an ill-timed statement. You were already apprehensive about your earlier comment about the Persian tea, although you were grateful that he chose not to see it as a slight. As if sensing your hesitation, Alfred sat up in bed and leaned forward.

"You are free to speak my lady, do not hold yourself back on my account," he reassured with a wave of his hand.

Still, you settled for a polite smile, "I was just going to remark on the difficulty of calligraphy but I am certain that if anyone would be able to master it, it'd be you, Your Majesty."

A small furrow appeared between Alfred's brows as if that wasn't the answer he expected from you. He could see you pulling away, going back to your polite, almost cold professionalism. Eventually, he nodded thoughtfully at you.

"I would be ever so grateful if you could perhaps show me the technique someday, my lady."

You breathed a sigh of relief and nodded with a small smile.

"Now, about that notebook, if you would allow me to take a look?"

"Ah yes, of course," you handed over the small leatherbound journal to him quickly without further complaints. "But I must warn you, my handwriting isn't at its most legible."

Alfred accepted the notebook with a nod of appreciation. As he leafed through its pages, his eyes quickly fell upon your meticulously written notes. Your thoughts were inscribed in your native language and although he did not understand the words, your elegant looping script impressed him.

He raised an eyebrow and turned toward you expectantly, pointing toward a specific passage, "And what does this say right here?"

"It is a description of the English weather, your grace."

Alfred leaned closer, his finger tracing the inked lines on the page.

"Ah yes, English weather. It was raining when you first arrived, wasn't it? What do you think of our English rain then, my lady? I've heard it has a certain charm."

"Well, I believe your rain can be quite persuasive. It insists that one should stay indoors and read a good book."

Alfred's lips twitched again, fighting back a smile. It seemed that the new scholar shared his interests as well.

"A wise perspective, indeed. Perhaps our English rain is simply encouraging a literary lifestyle."

"Yes, your grace."

"My lady" he continued, a note of genuine admiration in his voice, "I must tell you, your handwriting is truly exquisite. Tell me, just how many languages have you learned."

You felt a blush creep into your cheeks at his compliment. There was something sincere in his eyes as he waited for your answer, looking at you like your accomplishments were the greatest thing in the world. You opened your mouth to respond but then a loud knock sounded on the door and a priest entered.

"Yes, Father Beocca," Alfred seemed irritated at the interruption.

Father Beocca's eyes glanced from you to the king, and despite the fact that you were sitting in a chair quite some distance away from him, you felt a strange flash of awkward embarrassment run through you.

"My king, Uhtred is here to see you," the priest finally stated.

Alfred sighed and turned toward you with an apologetic smile, "Shall we continue our conversation another time then, my lady? It seems that I am needed elsewhere."

"Yes, of course, your grace."

You quickly took your leave then, choosing to take one of your books and go read in the garden. You had just settled yourself into a comfortable nook when loud boisterous laughter caught your attention. Turning your gaze towards the source of the commotion, you spotted three men, two of whom were dressed in the attire of warriors. Their boisterous behaviour was evident as they playfully teased and shoved the third man, who was clad in robes that resembled those of Father Beocca. However, a leather breastplate adorned his monk's attire, hinting at a surprising duality of roles – priest and fighter.

The two warriors were engaged in a lively exchange with the monk, their laughter echoing through the garden. You couldn't help but smile as you watched the scene unfold. Their camaraderie and jesting reminded you of the Caliph's sons back home, when your father would take you to visit the palace.

One of the warriors, a bearded man with broad shoulders and a hearty laugh, clapped the monk on the back.

"Come now, Osferth," he said between chuckles, "surely your devotion to the Lord could use a bit of levity now and then."

The monk, Osferth, grinned in response, "Aye Finan, it is said that laughter is the best medicine, is it not?"

The other warrior, a lean and quick-witted fellow, joined in with a jest, "Well, if that's the case, Osferth, then Finan here will live to be a hundred and you shall die tomorrow!"

Osferth elbowed the tall man in the ribs, "Not before I knock some sense into you Sihtric."

Their jovial banter and good-natured teasing continued, creating a lively atmosphere in the serene garden. You couldn't help but be amused by their antics and the familiarity of their interactions, watching them for quite some time.

The trio of men eventually noticed your presence, and with their laughter dying down, they made their way over to you. As they approached, their expressions revealed a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

The broad-shouldered warrior, Finan, whose eyes twinkled with mischief, was the first to speak. "Well, what have we here?" he said with a grin. "A traveller from foreign shores, I presume?"

"Yes, I am from Baghdad, my lord."

The warrior, clearly taken with you, couldn't resist a flirtatious remark.

"Lady, I must say, you are a wondrous addition to our English garden."

You snorted at his attempt at flirtation.

Meanwhile, the monk with the leather breastplate maintained a more respectful demeanour.

"Greetings, lady, I am Osferth," he said with a nod. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I ask what brings you to our humble Wessex?"

You found the monk's polite curiosity quite refreshing.

"Greetings to you too, Osferth. I've come to further my studies here. Wessex has much to offer in terms of knowledge and history, and I hope to make the most of it."

"Well, my lady, if ever you wish to explore our English shores, I'd be delighted to be your guide," it was Finan who spoke again and you could not help but laugh at his words.

"Thank you, kind sir. Your offer is most gracious."

“Call me Finan, my lady.”

Your change continued as they asked more about you and your hometown and you asked about theirs. You found out that they were a band of warriors who followed some fellow named Uhtred, the very same Uhtred who was currently speaking to King Alfred. As the conversation flowed, you discovered that you enjoyed speaking with these men. Their witty banter and friendly demeanour made you feel at ease, despite the foreignness of your surroundings. You shared stories of your travels, your scholarly pursuits, and the cultural nuances of your homeland. The men, in turn, regaled you with tales of their own adventures.

As you continued to engage in playful banter with the warriors, you remained oblivious to the presence of King Alfred and Uhtred, who had ventured outside and were observing the lively exchange.

Eventually, with a confident stride, Uhtred made his way toward your group to make his introduction and Father Beocca approached the king with his concerns.

"Your Majesty," he began cautiously, "I must admit, I have reservations about entrusting your treatment to a foreigner, especially one from so distant a land. We must be cautious of witchcraft and unfamiliar practices."

King Alfred turned to Father Beocca, his expression thoughtful but resolute, "Father Beocca, I understand your concerns, but the lady is no ordinary foreigner. She hails from Baghdad, a city known for its innovative medical advancements and a center of learning in the Islamic world. She comes as one of their finest scholars, sent by the Caliph himself."

"I see, your grace."

"I have read extensively about the great Islamic civilization, and its contributions to science, medicine, and philosophy. I believe we have much to learn from her, not only about medicine but also about fostering understanding and collaboration between our cultures. They have succeeded in uniting several lands under one caliphate, so perhaps we might learn how we may unite England as well."

Father Beocca, though still cautious, nodded in understanding, "Your Majesty, I trust your judgment. It is my fervent hope that the lady's presence here will indeed lead to beneficial knowledge and that she will uphold the values of wisdom and compassion."

"Thank you, Father Beocca. Let us have faith in this unique opportunity for cultural exchange and enlightenment. Her presence is a bridge between worlds, and I believe it is a path toward a brighter future for Wessex."

Over the course of the next few months, you became familiar with the routines of the Wessex palace. King Alfred allowed you to shadow him throughout his day, believing that you could provide valuable insights into his own activities. It was a decision that would lead to a profound connection between the two of you.

Every day, you diligently prepared poultices and medications for the king’s ailments, and often you’d recite the recipe to him and explain the purpose of each herb and plant that went into it. He found that he trusted you completely but he was still comforted by your transparency and the efforts you took to explain things to him. Sometimes he would insist on accompanying you on walks and you would point out the various native English plants and their counterparts back home. You also documented the king's activities and observations in your notebook. At times, he would request to see your notebook, often just to admire the beauty of your script. He marvelled at the graceful lines of your writing, and the intricate calligraphy that adorned the pages.

Your interactions went beyond the formalities of your initial meeting. King Alfred, always eager to learn, would occasionally ask you to translate certain passages from your native language and over time, your bond grew stronger. King Alfred began to look forward to each day, eager to see your bright and colourful veil, a striking contrast to your plain English gowns. He would wonder which hue you would choose, and it became a delightful anticipation in his daily routine.

Your conversations transcended the realm of duty and scholarly pursuits. The two of you shared your favourite books, discussing the nuances of various works and debating the merits of different translations. Your insights challenged Alfred's own understanding, and he cherished these moments of intellectual stimulation.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Alfred realized that you had become an important fixture in his life. your presence was a source of inspiration, a reminder of the power of knowledge, and a testament to the potential for understanding and collaboration between different cultures.

He found himself thinking of you when he was apart from you, reminiscing about how your eyes would dance with mirth as you argued with him about the inaccuracies of translated works, or how your laughter would fill the palace corridors. You had not only enriched his pursuit of knowledge but had also touched his heart, becoming a cherished friend and confidante in the process.

Alfred could still vividly recall the way you had looked at him with genuine wonder and appreciation when he had shown you his humble library. He knew that compared to the great libraries of Alexandria and Baghdad, his collection was modest, but you had delighted in it all the same. Your eyes, filled with curiosity and admiration, had swept over the numerous scrolls and manuscripts, taking in the wealth of knowledge contained within those walls.

In that moment, as you softly murmured your thanks, Alfred felt his breath catch. He was struck not only by the beauty of your physical presence but also by the grace with which you carried yourself and the genuine enthusiasm you displayed for learning. Your voice had a melodic quality that lingered in his memory. It was a voice that seemed to breathe life into the ancient texts that surrounded you and the king found himself quite enamoured with you. The two of you spent many a late night pouring over scrolls together, and although he always kept a respectful distance, Alfred found himself wanting to brush away the stray strands of hair that fell across your forehead, having escaped the tightly bound coil you usually kept your hair in.

Tonight was one such night as the dim light of the candle burned low, and after a lively discussion on herbal medicine, you had fallen asleep on one of the ancient manuscripts. Alfred, his mind still buzzing with the echoes of your conversation, fought against the pull of sleep. Instead, he watched you slumber, his heart filled with a mixture of admiration and tenderness.

In the soft candlelight of the library, you appeared even more enchanting. Your thick eyelashes brushed against your cheeks as you slept peacefully, your features serene. Your form rose and fell with each gentle breath, a rhythmic reminder of the tranquil cadence of sleep. Alfred couldn't help but be captivated by your beauty in this unburdened state. The play of shadows and light highlighted the delicate contours of your face, and the soft glow of the manuscripts around you lent an almost ethereal quality to the scene. You looked like a vision from a dream.

As he watched your slumber, a sudden, unexpected urge welled up within him. He was struck by the temptation to lean in and kiss you, but he quickly banished the traitorous thought. What an absurd thing for a king to do, to force his affections on a guest in his home. Especially when he had no way of knowing if you returned his feelings. He would have to content himself with the simple act of watching you sleep, his heart filled with a deep and unspoken longing.

He also found himself wondering if you were betrothed, for you couldn’t possibly be married and still be here. What man would not accompany you or let you out of his sight if you were his wife? Although you had discussed many things, you did not stray close to personal topics such as family. You were only a few years younger than him and surely you had to have someone in your life. And even if you didn’t, what could you possibly want with an ailing man like him when a woman as accomplished as you could have anyone in the world?

Such melancholy things plagued him as he eventually drifted asleep on the table across from you, his final thoughts fixating on what it might feel like to have your lips against his. 

[queerprayers]

It's the times when I have no words that people ask for them, it seems. I don't tend to navigate current events publicly, and I don't want my online presence to be one of knee jerk reactions/first instinct opinions. I barely have a high school education. I am not a news source or a current politics page, but I am also not indifferent and do not desire silence. I trust that prayer, charity, and love has accompanied everyone reading this as you respond to ongoing genocide and war. You already know what God has asked of you. It may feel like too much to ask, but it has been asked. I don't know that anyone needs my words, but I was asked to pray a little bit louder today. Prayer comes hand in hand with work to do. May God be with you in that work, even if it is simply (or not-so-simply) acknowledging your broken heart and researching the best way to share your extra $5.

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. For the captives, the refugees, the healers, the wounded, the dying, the mourning, the oppressed, the oppressors, the children, we pray. For the blood on the hands of many countries, for the prejudice in our own hearts, we cry out. For the systems that keep violence close, we seek to tear down. For the empty prayers for peace, we seek to tear open with healing justice. For the softening of revenge without falling into the temptation of neutrality in the face of oppression, we pray. For acknowledging the full humanity of every person we see or read about or find within a numbered statistic, we pray. For our Muslim siblings who have lived under the shadow of apartheid for too long, and for Muslims around the world who battle against prejudice and mourn for their community, we pray. For our siblings in Christ in our Lord's homeland, who are oppressed alongside them, whose churches are being destroyed; and for Christians around the world, who need opened eyes, solidarity, and a renewed yearning to follow the Jesus of liberational peace, we pray. For our Jewish siblings who are living through violence while feeling helpless to affect their government's actions, and for Jewish people around the world who experience antisemitism while they hurt to hear of the crimes done in their religion's name, we pray. For those who need the courage to lay down their weapons, for those reckoning with their own part in colonialism, for those who cannot see a way out except for violence, for those in power with hardened hearts, for those who seek the truth, for those whose guilt is all they have, for those whose rage threatens to overcome them, for the hopeless, we pray. God of all, of many languages and peoples, Prince of Peace, holy and life-giving Spirit, Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer. Amen.

[reasoningdaily]

Terrence Howard Talks About the 6000-Year-Old Secret of The Flower of Life

The Flower of Life has mystified civilization for more than 6000 years. Terrance Howard explains the physics, math and logic behind this ancient tool. Existential Knowledge like this from Terrance Howard is surprising, since we never knew he was a physics buff.

Watch This and learn how this Beautiful symbol clarifies Life and Energy as Existence.

What is the flower of life?

The flower of life is one of the most recognized symbols in the ancient and modern world. The sacred geometric pattern consists of 19 intersecting circles spaced evenly from each other that reveal an intricate pattern of overlapping symmetrical flowers. 

The striking visual is meant to represent creation, the sacred masculine and divine feminine, and cycles of life, death, and rebirth. Some believe the flower of life is also a key that can unlock hidden knowledge of time and space within its petal-like structures. 

"At baseline, it is a geometric form of perfect—and some would say divine—proportion," intuitive energy healer and author of Energy Work for the Everyday to Elite Athlete Cyndi Dale tells mindbodygreen. "The flower of life is a beautiful and ancient symbol that has been depicted in many cultures across time. It's found in Egyptian, Hindu, Christian, Buddhist, Muslim, and Judaic artwork, religious structures, and manuscripts," she adds.

Based on Assyrian relics, historians can date the flower of life to 645 B.C.

Beyond its earliest origins, author of Sacred Geometry: How To Use Cosmic Patterns To Power Up Your Life Jemma Foster shares that the flower of life can also be found in countless temples and sacred sites across the globe, like the 5,000-year-old walls of the Osirian temple in Egypt, where it is burned into the stone as if by laser. 

Meaning and symbolism of the flower of life.

"The flower of life represents the cycle of creation and the interconnectedness of all life," Dale says. Spiritually, the symbol can be used as a focus for attaining a sense of enlightenment and the awareness of peace. "It can also be used symbolically as a pathway to seek our personal and unique purpose within the greater universe," she adds.

Beyond its spiritual implications, Dale explains the flower of life also has associations with the chakra system—the main energy centers of the body. When there are no blockages and energy can effortlessly course throughout the entire body, it enables balance to exist between the mind, body, and soul. When looking at the geometric symbol, she says the image is seen to contain the seven chakras aligned in the middle. 

"The reason that we typically link a lotus with a chakra—with different chakras shown with different numbers of petals—is that chakras are energetic. Based on nerve plexuses, they each spin at a different rate. Each chakra manages a specific bandwidth of energy, measured by color or sound," she says. 

As such, we can work with these sacred patterns to boost our energetic health. Because the flower of life is the visual connection between all living things, it's said to have many benefits. And to reap those benefits, some recommend meditating on the image or wearing the symbol as jewelry to raise your vibration or even as a form of protection. 

The flower of life in sacred geometry.

"Sacred geometry is the underlying form or geometry in nature—and not only the environment on Earth but in the cosmos," Dale explains to mindbodygreen, elaborating that the flower of life is considered sacred because these formations are considered one of the most significant patterns in the universe. 

If you peer closer at the flower of life, inside you'll see many sacred forms nestled within. Dale notes the structure includes the tree of life systems, a universal code known as the Fibonacci sequence, the Golden Ratio of Phi (a mathematical radio that shows up constantly in nature), and Megatron's cube—which carries the five platonic solids, or foundational shapes of all organic life. 

"It is thought that the flower of life holds a secret within it—a circle, which in many cultures, is considered the 'zero point' or the 'origin' of us all," Dale says. "This is the Oneness that ties us together."

What makes the flower of life so meaningful is how it potentially supports emerging scientific theories today. "Recent offshoots of quantum and 'spiritual' physics are suggesting that the universe is conscious, sort of a quantum information field with awareness and that all the energy or data that have ever existed is stored in geometric forms within it," she continues. "We are composed of these same forms and can exchange data with the universe because of it."

How to use the flower of life.

The flower of life is a reminder of unity. To add more connection to your life, Foster suggests drawing the flower of life since the art can be activating for meditation and processing. It also acts as an invitation to resonate at its frequency on a deep cellular level.

"The flower of life is a key ally in raising and protecting the energetic quality that you and your environment are operating at," Foster says. 

To mobilize its creative energy, Foster also advises placing the flower of life in your space or onto objects. "This means to come into coherence and to move out of dissonance. [It] brings the surrounding area or object into greater coherence, for example, to restructure water, or to help negate some of the negative dissonances of a laptop," she adds.

[butchniqabi]

totally ignore this if you'd like! i'm just kinda lost tbh and i'd love to hear about your own experience and point of view

i began to realize i might be bi around 2 years ago and i've found it incredible turbulent trying to reconcile being a muslim woman and experiencing attraction to other women at the same time. i'm still struggling with my sexuality and a lot of internalized stuff and i'm trying to work on it but i guess i don't really know how i'm supposed to go about this?

again, please ignore this if you'd like, and i'm sorry if you get asks like these all the time </3

full disclaimer i was not born muslim, i converted when i was 14/15-ish for [list of reasons] and part of what convinced me was tumblr user @homojabi who has sadly been inactive for many years now, but they have a lot of resources when it comes to countering homophobic/transphobic rhetoric. you might want to check out their blog for more in depth answers to the common "what about"s of islam.

im not really a great person to answer these questions because i honestly feel that there is no conflict in me being a gay/trans muslim and havent really experienced many hang-ups about my identity. my best advice is to remember that islam has been influenced by hundreds of years of politics and stopped being practiced how the prophet (saw) practiced it after he died. genuinely, a lot of awful rhetoric in islam comes from hadith which while some can be considered "reputable", many are just "this person said he heard the prophet (saw) say this one time". i remember reading that even just a few decades after the prophet's (saw) death there were THOUSANDS of fake hadiths floating around. islam is practiced by human beings and human beings have biases, hidden agendas, and political aspirations. no two people practice islam the same, our relationship with it is going to be different. does that make sense?

i think you should surround yourself with lgbt muslims both online and (if possible) in person. in the past decade a lot more resources for lgbt muslims have popped up, you may have to look for them but they're there. community is a big healer.

remember that you can talk to me at any time, my inbox and dms are open to lgbt muslims always.

[aysufs]

اللَّهُمَّ ربَّ النَّاسِ ، أَذْهِب الْبَأسَ ، واشْفِ ، أَنْتَ الشَّافي لا شِفَاءَ إِلاَّ شِفَاؤُكَ ، شِفاءً لا يُغَادِرُ سقَماً

“Allaahumma Rabban-naas, adhhibil-ba’s, washfi antash-Shaafi laa shifaa’a illaa shifaa’uka shifaa’an laa yughaadiru saqaman”

“O Allaah, Lord of mankind, do away with my suffering.

Heal (me) as You are the only Healer and there is no cure except that of Yours,

it is that which leaves no ailment behind”

(Al Bukhari (with Al-Fath 10/206) and Muslim 4/1721)

[jedimasterbailey]

barriss for the character asks!! 1 (i think we know), 7, 9, & 32

Hello there! 😊 It makes me laugh knowing that you know me well enough to know what my feelings are going to be on that first question 😂 Thank you for giving me the excuse to talk about my girl Barriss 💙

1- Canon I Outright Reject

That Barriss is not a terrorist or evil. She wasn’t out to get Ahsoka or anything out of spite or jealousy. She wasn’t abused or neglected by her Master. She didn’t want to hurt or kill anyone (she’s canonically a healer and it’s pretty clear from her words, actions, and facial expressions that she was tormented by what happened. The Temple bombing was a terrible accident Barriss got involved in, which can easily happen if an adult gets into your head about how wrong everything is and you’re most likely suffering from a multitude of mental illness as a result of being involved in war. People seem to forget that Barriss was a child like Ahsoka. At that time she didn’t have the wisdom or maturity to know that she was being used for nefarious reasons via Letta. Was it wrong what she did and how she went about it afterwards? Absolutely, but she’s still a kid at the end of the day, they’re not gonna make the best of choices especially if they’re already at a disadvantage (i.e riddled with PTSD and who knows what else).Barriss was a proud and gifted Jedi who cares for Ahsoka and everyone else she personally knew in the Order; she simply just hated the war and felt that the Jedi shouldn’t be dying or losing themselves to a cause that was orchestrated by an evil entity. Barriss says this clearly in her confession yet people wasn’t to have selective listening and only listen to the parts they want to hear to fit their narrative. The fact that Feloni and his goons decided to pick a Muslim coded character to be the one to bomb the Temple to further Ahsoka’s story and throw her on the pyre for toxic Star Wars fans to burn for years to come is disgusting and should be retconned immediately.

7-Age/Height/Weight Headcanon

Okay the age one is interesting because this is something we fans have wanted to know for years ever since Barriss got de-aged to be a companion for Ahsoka. It’s been said that Barriss is supposed to be a little bit older than Ahsoka in the Clone Wars. So if Ahsoka was 14-17 during the show, then I’d put Barriss roughly between the ages of 15-21ish. She’s likely 1-3 years older than Ahsoka if I had to guess. Height wise, she looks pretty tiny like 5’2-5’4 ish with the heels and weight would most likely be anywhere between 100-125 ish pounds considering she’s so thin.

9-Scene That Made Me Love The Character

I always thought Barriss was so cool when I first saw her in AOTC and in the Clone Wars 2003 mini series, but the scene that made me fall for her is undoubtedly when she introduces herself to Ahsoka in the 2008 Clone Wars episode “Weapons Factory”. Her sweet little bow had me and she is such a delight in that episode that I just fell for her right then and there and then it became obsession when she was willing to die when she got infected with brain worms so that others can live. In the three episodes she’s in, she showed the audience that she’s a multi layered character and I love characters like that 💙

32-Something Guaranteed To Make Them Smile/Laugh

I believe this to be a toss up between her Master Luminara and Ahsoka. Either woman most likely know all the ways to make Barriss smile or laugh, but I don’t think Anakin slipping on a banana peel or something wouldn’t do the trick either. Barriss has a big heart so I believe the ones she loves most would bring out the best in her.

Thank you again for this excellent character asks! Feel free to me what y’all think! 💙💚

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

The City is Ours ; a WIP Intro

(New and Improved Re-Introduction!)

Genre and Setting

low urban sci-fi, superheroes, dark sci-fi ; set in big city somewhere northern on a US coast, I'm cautiously giving the city the placeholder name Henderson, modern times

Playlist

Masterlist / Shitty Comic Sans Intro 🤪

POV

third person limited, multiple characters (about 5-6)

Status and Length

First Drafts, roughly 2k ; 5 book series, no idea what the wordcount will be yet, maybe 100k per book?

Tropes and Themes

chaotic teenage superheros, domesticity in between the action, 2012-13 Avengers Tower fic vibes, found family but they're all dumbasses, villain arcs and redemption arcs galore, reluctant villians, superhero team but they're all lower middle class, POC disabled Jewish and Muslim and queer representation, "don't die or i'll kill you", heroes and villains and the chaos that ensues ; are you the hero or the villain, what's the difference between good and evil (is it who's telling the story?), forgiveness and redemption, saving the world vs saving yourself and your family, exploring morality

Warnings and Rating

guns, potential depictions of torture, superhero genre typical violence, blood, depictions of discrimination and bigotry (towards super-powered people mostly), trauma and mental health issues including possible depictions of panic attacks, and a whole fuck ton of angst ; Teen and Up

Main Characters

Nickelle Takahashi (she/her)

Team Leader, Superhero Name: The Icicle

Ice Powers

Japanese American, AroAce, lead singer in a local rock band

the leader who puts way too much pressure on herself, and who will do everything for the people she loves

Asher Romero-Cruz (he/him)

Team Dad, Superhero Name: The Flashlight

Light and Shadow Powers

Gay, Christian, Latino American, LEGO and Star Wars nerd

the Dad Friend of the team who is always looks out for everyone. Has a civilian boyfriend

Gabriella Wilson (she/her)

Team Cheerleader/Suit Designer

No Powers

CisHet, White with long blond hair, very talented sewer and fashion designer

the blonde bimbo who is super supportive of everyone and will be your wing woman ride or die

Kylee Trimble (she/they)

Youngest Teammate, Superhero Name: Now-Ya-See-Her-Girl

Speed and Invisibility Powers

Redhead with pale skin and freckles, Nearsided with Glasses, Nonspeaking Autistic, PanAce, Artist

the artist who is afraid of opening up and being her authentic self around others

Bryson Barns (he/him)

Team Medic, Superhero Name: The Healer

Healing Powers

Black, token straight that's on thin ice, Diabetic (Type 2)

the very tired healer who can heal all physical injuries, but he can't heal himself or mental injuries and struggles with accepting that

"V" Talić (they/them)

Team Cool Big Sibling, Superhero Name: Morph

Shapeshifting Powers

Muslim, Nonbinary Lesbian, Bosnian American, Soccer Jock

Impulsive and reckless, the one who always has crazy ideas for getting out of sticky situations. Struggles with fitting in with their culture/family while also being themselves

Jason Richens (he/him)

Team Asshole, Superhero Name: Hotshot

Fire Powers

CisHet (and an asshole about it)

Thinks he's special because his dad is rich, his character only exists to be bashed

Chase Silverstone (he/they)

Team Hacker and Tech Expert, Superhero Name: TechGuy

No Powers

PanAro, Jewish, Romani American, Bipolar Disorder and OCD, Anxiety and Depression

The team techie who struggles with asking for help and dealing with his mental health issues and taking care of himself

Antagonists

Black Hole - Main Antagonist of Book 1. Alien from Pluto, trying to take over earth as a last ditch extra credit project for his AP Government class. Can absorb any attack and reflect it back

Miss Recluse - Recruited by Black Hole. Has the human sized body of a Brown Recluse spider and the head of a human and poisonous fangs. Can do everything a spider does, and is a bit of a drama queen. Besties with The Magician

The Magician - A sorcerer from the dark ages who accidentally transported himself to the future with no way back. Uses a lot of dark magic that includes illusions- favorite spell to use is blue fire that is immune to water and can burn through metal and stone. Dr. Strange meets Dr. Faciler.

Mr. Cyanide - Recruited by Black Hole, eventually becomes a solo high level threat villain, main antagonist of book 2. Mad scientist with a deadly knack for chemistry. Only cares whether his experiments work, couldn't care less if they hurt or kill people.

Boss Lady - a Mafia boss who is colossally tall and wide, and incredibly strong. Big stronk woman who is working with/for the Snow Queen (her loyalties or questionable). Does have standards but also tortures people for the fun of it so....?

Blood Debt - Loner (mainly) vigilante who rides around on a motorcycle and kills anyone who he sees fit is deserving of dying, or whoever he gets paid to kill. Does jobs for the Snow Queen, and under the mask he is someone one of the heroes is very close with...

Nightmare - a small time, low threat villain that doesn't actually hurt anyone. Her powers put people to sleep and she takes their energy from them. A freshman/sophomore college student with an engineering major. More of an anti-hero vigilante if you squint.

The Snow Queen - The big bad for the last three books. Only an urban legend/rumor until the last two books. Has ice powers that can control tech and people. No one knows her identity and she is holed up in her lair most of the time, sending minions/Boss Lady or Blood Debt to do anything outside the lair. She is someone all of the heroes know very well :)

Plot

A bunch of rookie teenage superheroes and their journey to becoming the heroes and protectors of their city, and eventually the world, and most importantly- a family. With all of the chore rotations, late night grocery runs, fights for the shower, and everything else that happens along with the action. Full of full scale super powered fights, betrayals and confrontations, cool tech and superpowers, and everything we love about the superhero genre.

Book 1 - The Initiation

Book 2 - The Hunter or Hunted

Book 3 - The Shadows

Book 4 - The Snow Queen

Book 5 - The Forsaken

(all the titles are placeholder titles for now)

Extra Stuff

Chase is a caffeine addict and not only can, but has on multiple occasions mixed coffee and energy drinks

Kylee uses sign language or a text to speech app to communicate, or if she has neither goes old school and writes things down

the city is based on a combination of Chicago and Gotham City

Nickelle has two younger siblings, a brother and a sister who are inseparable, 8 and 5 years old

Nickelle also has a huge extended family that's more traditional and she has to tone down her punk look for family gatherings

Asher's boyfriend is Damian. Damian finds out about his partner's double superhero life when Asher saves him in the mask, and like a dumbass, Asher forgets to turn on his voice modifier and Damian recognizes his voice immediately

Damian is also a Chekhov's Civilian and becomes a vital part of the plot

Nightmare and V have a little enemies to lovers romance that's mostly in the background is is really just there for comedy

The Magician gets a redemption arc and becomes the Hero Team's weird morally gray uncle

Kylee has a brother who is in the US Navy. He is one of the few people that she is comfortable being fully unmaksed around at the beginning of the books, and he is deployed during the events of the books.

Bryson has a weird relationship with his dad, who raised him all by himself and is a full time EMT. Bryson really wants to tell his dad about his double superhero life because it's driving a wedge between him and his dad, but it's not safe and Bryson's not sure how his dad will react

And finally, some memes for your viewing pleasure:

~~~

The City is Ours Taglist: @friendlyneighborhood-writer @jessica-writes22 @rose-bookblood @yejidoesthings @space-writes

General Taglist: @enchanted-lightning-aes @thatprolificauthor @wip-nook @writeblrsupport

[kalevalakryze]

College of Geonosis (Repost)

Reposting this one for @barrissday ! It's definitely high up on my list of things to get back into once Whumptober, Ahsoka week, wolfwren week, sabine week, and Sabine Bingo have passed; I have some great ideas for this and I love everything so much

Pairings: Barriss Offee & Luminara Unduli, Barriss Offee/Ahsoka Tano, Ahsoka Tano & Anakin Skywalker

Characters: Barriss Offee, Luminara Unduli, Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker

Tags: Modern AU - Human, Modern AU - College, Slow Burn, Eventual Fluff, Barriss Offee-centric, Muslim Characters, Good Parent Luminara Unduli, Anxiety, References to depression, everyone is neurodivergent, no real hurt (yet)

Notes: This is one I'm actually pretty excited about, but I do have a few things to point out just so any inaccuracies are purely my own lack of expertise over ignorance.

I'm cis, nonreligious, and white. This has typically prevented me from writing or portraying any characters in any other category for fear of misrepresenting. However, when I picture a humanized version of both Barriss and Ahsoka, I cannot see women in my demographic. I'm putting in the work to try to be as accurate and learn as much as possible, however, if I mess anything up, please correct me, the last thing I'd like to do is butcher a representation and do them any less than the full justice they deserve.

I do not know much about any religion truthfully, so I'm learning with each piece I write, and I don't doubt that I will need to revise the more I learn.

I am also completely oblivious to the college experience, so if this works a little too much in the movies or cliche television, that's why. (personally, fingers crossed that one day I'll be able to get a degree, but with the way things have been working, it won't be doable for a while, so I'm just living my college dreams through these two).

Summary: Barriss was half excited and half full of dread as Luminara pulled up to the drop off at last. The dorm building was tall, the Tribunal building would be her home for the next few years, “I’m scared,” She found herself whispering against the window. Her hands were squeezing Luminara’s, and her mother lovingly squeezed back in a heartbeat pattern. “Fear can be a good thing, Barriss,” The wisened woman started, voice soft, even with all the noise of unruly undergrads outside. “Do it because you’re scared, and when you graduate, you’ll feel better about taking that step, the next ones won’t be as scary,” She pulled Barriss's hand until she could offer a gentle tug, leaning across the center console until Barriss’s head fell into her shoulder. “And, even if this doesn’t work out, I’m still proud of you for everything you’ve done to get here,”

Barriss used to believe things would be easier once she graduated high school. Maybe the pressure would stop, after all, she wouldn’t have to pile on her graduation requirements to her early college assignments, she could actually devote her focus on her pre-med track, where she’d earned enough credits during high school. If she could just stack as many classes into each available slot over the course of the year, including holidays and summer vacation, she could be heading for her Masters and her PhD in no time! At least, those were the hopes and dreams.

Her mother had never expressed any kind of expectation on her, not once, but Barriss had always felt… strange. Luminara Unduli was a healer, and so was her mother before her. Like with her own father, Luminara hadn’t known her own, and while the absence never felt large in her life, her mother’s attempts at pulling her away from her work to bond were a greater stressor. Realistically, the young woman knew that her mother hadn’t wanted to pass on the workaholic trait, but she’d been exposed ever since she was little, and if her mom was so perfect and put together, she could be to, if only she could rush through these classes and get a jump on this ‘stable adult life’ she’d been dreaming about since she was young.

Of course, the world worked in mysterious ways. Barriss Offee was moving halfway across the world to the states, where she would, apparently, be rooming with another undergrad in a mechanical engineering track, with minor lessons in law and politics. It seemed a rather… interesting tuition, but then, from the letters the two had exchanged over the summer since the College of Geonosis connected them, this Ahsoka Tano was an interesting character. The girl had apparently graduated high school early, and was going to be attending the same school as her older brother she only lovingly referred to as ‘skyguy’, who was a senior in the mechanical engineering program.

Ahsoka’s letters often rambled on and on, about her summer, and her excitement for the year, or to meet Barriss, or to tell her about ‘skyguy’ and his wife, or her apparently many brothers, she promised Barriss if she’s seen even one of them anywhere in the galaxy, she would know, apparently, for as many as she’d remembered to list off in the letters, they all looked quite similar. Those letters were the longest, and while exhausting to read, she hadn’t wanted to seem impolite.

Her own letters to Ahsoka were typically short, commenting on something she’d picked from pages of rambling to show she’d been paying attention, and filling in her own information whenever asked. Every time her mother retrieved the mail and dropped one of those orange envelopes at her desk, she would smile in a way that confused Barriss, would make her cheeks heat until she would sink further into her chair, pulling an end of her hijab just free enough that she could hide her burning face from her mothers’ knowing gaze.

This was a posture Barriss took for the majority of the trip away from Coruscant, and along the fifteen hour drive to the Geonosian capital, where her new university, new life, and new roommate would be waiting for her. The traffic to get into the school was jam packed, and Barriss considered herself lucky that the school had allowed her to get her assignments, keys, and badges delivered to her home prior to the semester’s start, one of her final tastes of the perks of having a parent much more extroverted than herself.

Luminara’s hand came to rest on her knee, and with a slow, measured breath, both of Barriss’s moved to cover her mother’s hand with her own. Anxiety thrummed in her veins, as they watched the line of cars into the dorms inch forward, and students taking ages to bid their farewells. “I’ve arranged some work, for the first couple of days,” Luminara started slowly, once Barriss’s fidgeting was directly to playing with her fingers, smoothing over the neat black polish on each fingernail, or the brass metal bracelets that adorned her mothers wrists.

The young woman was unable to hide her relief at this knowledge. If it became too much, she wouldn’t be inconveniencing her too much to ask to come home. This was her first trip more than two hours from home, after all, and she was more than a little scared, something her mother had always been keen at keeping an eye out for, and coming up with a solution that wouldn’t further damage her nerves. “Thank you,” She breathed, barely audible from the thumping of a nearby bass. Four young men pulled up in the car beside them, the driver… with a tattoo on his face? Was identical to every other passenger in the car, in a way that made her look twice, but no. The others did not share the goatee and forehead tattoo as the driver banged his head to a song she would never be able to make out.

She hadn’t realized she’d been squeezing her mother’s hand until Luminara had to reach across her seat, to brush her fingertips over the back of Barriss’s knuckles, to remind her that if she started squeezing any harder it would begin to hurt. Her cheeks burned as she released her hold on Luminara’s hand, but the woman did not move her hand away, simply rested her now free hand back on the steering wheel and inched just a bit closer in line. “You’re going to do perfect here, and you won’t be alone, you’ll have Ahsoka, and I’m sure Professor Vos wouldn’t mind checking in every now and then,” She promised, and Barriss felt some of the tension in her shoulders relax.

“I will do my best to utilize the resources offered,” Barriss promised, missing the frown that tugged on Luminara’s lips as her head turned back to the driveway. Enough cars were starting to clear now, that she was able to make a substantial jump in line.

“The temporary office is only ten minutes away, but I’ll only be here for a week, Master Tholme has requested that I return to the home office to work on one of our newer developed strands and vaccines,” She spoke about her work freely and often with Barriss, part of why she’d fallen in love with the pre-med track in the first place. Her mother’s passion for her career helped Barriss fall in love with the world in a way she didn’t think possible, and while she had many obstacles to overcome, she had to stay positive that she would succeed thanks to her hard work and the resources available.

She was half excited and half full of dread as Luminara pulled up to the drop off at last. The dorm building was tall, the Tribunal building would be her home for the next few years, “I’m scared,” She found herself whispering against the window. Her hands were squeezing Luminara’s once more, but this time, she squeezed back in a heartbeat pattern.

“Fear can be a good thing, Barriss,” Her mother started, voice soft, even with all the noise of unruly undergrads outside. “Do it because you’re scared, and when you graduate, you’ll feel better about taking that step, the next ones won’t be as scary,” She pulled the younger woman's hand until she could give a gentle tug, leaning across the center console until Barriss’s head fell into her shoulder. “And, even if this doesn’t work out, I’m still proud of you for everything you’ve done to get here,”

She inhaled slowly, eyes sliding shut as she cherished her last moment of peace. “I’ll take these ones with you,” Luminara promised, before unbuckling and sliding out of her seat. In just a few long strides, Barriss’s door was opened, and her mother’s hand reached to help her out. Another slow, controlled breath, before she grabbed her hand and rose out of the car.

The sounds hit her like a wall of bricks, but the young woman swallowed, squeezing her mothers' hand once more before she moved to gather her two bags from the back seat. It wasn’t much, but she’d practiced packing light. The heaviest things were most likely the books she’d brought, though if it had been up to her, the entire Unduli home's library would be packed into that car, so the dozen or so thick tomes she stashed was a lesson in self-control.

Luminara took one of the bags before Barriss could sling it over her shoulder, and then nodded her way towards the building. “I’ll follow you,” She promised, offering a reassuring smile. The lobby was crowded full of students collecting keys, complaining to the resident assistants, and students saying lengthy and teary eyed goodbyes. She’d studied every map, and had planned for every single scenario that could alter her course to her new home. It was a big step, but Barriss led the way through the winding mazes odd bodies, up until she came to room 332.

There was music playing through a speaker inside the room, Barriss paused at the sight of two figures that occupied the side closest to the heavy wooden door. And older man, long hair, sharp jawline, blue eyes enunciated with a scar that cut across his right eye. His arms were crossed against his chest as he seemed to be caught in an argument with his companion. The woman was young, younger than Barriss even, with dark skin offset by clean stripes of near white skin, she had wanted to guess tattoos, though it seemed highly improbable, most likely an intricate case of vitiligo that cast diamonds and sweeping lines across her face. White and Blue dyed dreads sat piled on top of her head, and her eyebrows furrowed as he spoke.

“If you didn’t interrupt me, every time I tried-“

“I wasn’t interrupting, I was trying to help you,” Which, Barriss believed, threw off whatever intention he was attempting to convey, considering he’d interrupted the younger woman.

The woman’s hands went up in the air as she shook her head. “Which I’d appreciate, if you didn’t interrupt me to do it! I just think maybe you don’t trust that I can handle this on my own,”

“It’s not about trust, it’s about making sure everything’s right,” He pushed himself off the desk then, and a gentle hand on Barriss shoulder had her stepping into the fray, her brows furrowing as she listened to them go back and forth.

“Oh! So you don’t trust me to do it right!” The woman accused, her finger poking into his bicep, which he batted out of the way with an exasperated sigh. “I knew it!’

His posture relaxed, seemingly defeated. “Snips, I never said-“

Her arms crossed defensively over her own chest, now, mirroring his habit of interruption. “No, no. It’s okay, I understand. I’m the freshman, you’re the aide,”The woman turned away from him, going back to angrily folding a sweatshirt that must have been tossed on the made ben when they started their spat.

Their conversation dropped to whispers neither woman could make out, but as Barriss stepped forward, to make their presence known,’snips’ started back up. “If you don’t trust me, why don’t you just send me back,” She snarked, the shirt tossed once again down onto the bed as she spun to face him once more.

“Don’t tempt me, Snips,” He warned, when his hand pulled into a fist, Barriss took note of the rigidness of his hand, it wasn’t hard to see the mechanics of a prosthetic through the black glove he’d placed over it.

“If you’re both finished…?” Luminara started, growing weary of standing in the entryway. Boredom outwore politeness and she stepped past her daughter, into the room, to set the small duffel bag onto the foot of the unclaimed bed. “Well, Barriss, aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” She guided, once she’d finally entered and shut the door behind her.

She caught the man bumping the younger woman’s shoulder, until she’d turned to acknowledge the newcomers. Barriss stepped forward then, cheeks darkening as she dipped her head and curtseyed. “Kinesiology major, Barriss Offer, at your service,” She greeted, her lips quirking immediately at the way the woman she assumed to be her roommate beamed at her.

Ahsoka and the man shared a look, and she shook her head at him. The younger woman’s hand reached towards Barriss. “Glad to meet you, I’m Ahsoka, and this,” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, to the man at the desk, who’d rolled his eyes. “Is my brother, Anakin,”

When Barriss took Ahsoka’s hand, both woman offered near hesitant smiles simultaneously, and Barriss caught the way her mother’s lips quirked as she stepped closer to Anakin, and the way the two bowed their heads together and seemed to be passing on a quiet conversation. “Your majoring in mechanical engineering, correct?”

Ahsoka nodded, her hand squeezing Barriss before dropping her hand to turn and grab a notebook. “Yeah of course! I know you mentioned your pre med track, and I have a brother who did medical engineering too, he wouldn’t shut up about it when I asked,” Ahsoka grabbed a messy notebook from a spilled open duffel bag, messy notes scrawled across designs all across the sheets of paper, almost impossible to decipher as she peered over them.

“She’s been up Kix’s rear getting him to teach her everything he knew pre-med, since she learned her track,” Barriss heard Anakin mention to her mother. She paused, hand reaching to grab the corner of the notebook. Ahsoka had obviously put a great deal of time into learning about the stranger’s interests, so the least Barriss could do was pay attention.

“these are…” The woman blinked, her lips pulling into a smile. “Most of these designs aren’t used until more than halfway through the course, and you’ve already figured out their uses,” She was truly stunned, there were instruction diagrams and equipment notes for pieces she’d only ever hoped to use in the practice one day.

“I watched a lot of Grey’s anatomy,” The woman informed with a big grin and a nod of her head. The notebook was shut and sat back on the already cluttered desk. “It’s actually really interesting, the subject, not the show,” And then a half nervous laugh, Barriss turned her face, her hand raising to her lips to cover the smile that pulled at her own.

It was Luminara who finally stepped in, her hand on Barriss’s shoulder. “Perhaps you two would like to join us for a quick lunch, then? I’m sure Barriss would love to hear all about what you’ve learned,” Barriss’s cheeks darkened, but she did not her head and focus her gaze on Ahsoka, who was looking at her older brother for permission.

“Hey, snips, you’re the adult here,” He defended, his hands raised in surrender and a smirk pulling at his lips. The young woman stuck her tongue out at him cruelly, before nodding her head up at both Barriss and Luminara.

“I think that’d be great!” Ahsoka’s enthusiasm was starting to rub off on Barriss, who’d set her bags down with the intent of unpacking later. They’d been in the car for quite some time now, and she’d be lying to say she wasn’t starved.

Together, the four of them exited the dorm, Barriss and Luminara piling into their car once more, overheated with the summer, while Anakin and Ashoka dispersed into the student parking lot.

With the air conditioning cranked, and their car rolling down the road, the sight of a black helmet and a white and blue helmet further up along the busy roadways was enough for Luminara to speak. “How do you feel about your arrangements?” She prompted, eyes flickering from the road for only a moment.

“I… I do truly believe it will be an enlightening experience,” The young woman frowned in thought. “Ahsoka took an interest in what I told her, and learned more about it, it is quite an admirable feat,” A pregnant pause, as their car pulled to a stoplight. “Do you know her brother, Anakin?” Because really, the way she’d caught the two conversing was not entirely unusual for her mother, but she’d never taken politeness to a friendly level before.

“Do you remember Professor Kenobi? From the Criminal Justice department?”

“You two attended university together, correct?”

“We had, on Coruscant. Anakin and Ahsoka were his charges since they were young. When you mentioned that the university had put you with Ahsoka, I assumed it as a good thing, I’m glad to see that so far, it seems I was correct,”

Barriss cheeks heated, so she reached to turn the air conditioners vent to point at her face. “She is quite thoughtful, and this does ease some of my fears about being put with someone I would not grow to like… I hope the rest of the year turns out to be as fruitful.”

Poggle’s diner was surprisingly slow as they pulled into the parking lot, their sedan pulling into the empty spot between two sport bikes, one black and blue, with the other in a variety of orange, white, and blue. Barriss took immediate notice that the white designs on the helmet and gas tank vaguely resembled her new roommates vitiligo.

“The mosque is nearby as well, I wish to visit with you this afternoon, and help you get acquainted,” Luminara mentioned as the two women exited the vehicle, the car beeping to acknowledge its locked status.

“That would be lovely, I had a difficult time printing the directions at the library before we left,” Because, if there was one person who still used Mapquest, it was Barriss Offee, with an excuse of simplicity, and being able to draw her route along the map to help her stay oriented.

The inside of the dinner was a little dirty, just as spare as the outside, making it easy to see the two young adults, who kept sliding the paper to their straws back on and shooting them at each other. When Ahsoka’s paper projectile hit the floor, Anakin had shot up and declared her the loser, a sheepish smile on his face as the two women approached. “You made it! Hope traffic wasn’t too bad, I refuse to drive a car anywhere in the city this time of year,” He explained as he crumpled up the paper into a ball, dropping it next to Ashoka’s, before reaching into her hair to retrieve his own white paper that had been lost to white dye.

“He is a menace,” Ahsoka deadpanned, taking a sip from the water in front of her. The woman’s legs were tucked up onto the booth with her, childish, but… Barriss couldn’t help but find it endearing, as she slid herself to the inside of the booth across from her new friend. “Anakin said you were an early grad too, right?”

“Oh, yes, actually. I took my classes during holiday, and received credit from the local community college to aid in my enrollment here,” Barriss explained, her hands folding together on the table in front of her. “You graduated early as well?”

“Yeah! Well, kind of! Turns out, with my last placement, I was taking more classes than I needed to, and getting the credits I needed, so when Obi-Wan took me in, everything fell into place, but I did kind of gap it so I could work in Skyguy’s shop. The customer service is trash, but he can get anything working again,” She pointed out, grinning widely at the nudge of her brothers’ elbow into her ribs.

“That is interesting, and I have to say I am quite intrigued on your perspectives, more so education wise, I have not met anyone outside of my desired study who has taken the time to learn about it,”

Ahsoka’s cheeks darkened, and her shoulders shrugged. The waiter came and went, the two girls left alone in their little world. They continued to pass knowledge and stories back to each other, with Luminara or Anakin only chiming in so often to point out an embarrassing discrepancy in the story. Their meals came and went, and by the time they were all getting ready to depart once more, it would have been impossible to believe that the pair had only met that day.

“It was lovely to meet both of you, Anakin, Ahsoka. I will be in town for the next few days for some work, if either of you needs anything, and please, do pass on my well wishes to Professor Kenobi.” Luminara dismissed, her hand on Barriss shoulder as she nodded to the two young adults. “I am going to cool down the car,” And then her mother was walking away, but Ahsoka was stepping up, her hand extended.

“Guess I’ll see you tonight then, roomie?” She questioned with a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. Barriss took her hand, much more confident than she had been upon their first meeting.

“Of course, I look forward to it. It was nice to meet you as well, Anakin,” The man in question raised two fingers to the corner of a split eyebrow in a friendly mock of a salute, before Barriss took her leave back to the cooling vehicle.

“They certainly are different, but.. not in a bad way,” She confided to Luminara as she sat in the passenger seat and secured her safety belt. “I think I will like it here, to an extent,” She didn’t want to promise that she would love the place, but she was now more willing to give it a chance than she’d been before.

“It makes me glad to hear this, Barriss. I’m proud of the steps you’ve taken today,” Her mothers hand did not leave her own the entire short trip to the Mosque, filling with folks all across the city

Even prayer felt more comfortable than it had in the Core. There were less people, she felt like she could breathe, and as the session came to a close, many stayed to converse, to check in. It was certainly more a community than the closed off life she’d come to know.

Barriss would not get to meet the imam, but she did get her name settled so they would know to expect her, if not every day, than at least four times a week. Prayer at home never came as easy to her, especially not as enlightening as it had been that day, and she quite looked forward to seeing if she would fit in to their community.

The return to the dorm was quieter than their first trip, and Barriss had to take a moment to prepare herself for her first true night away from her mother. “I will miss you,” She spoke into Luminara’s sweater as her face buried in her shoulder.

“I’ll only be a phone call away, little one,” The woman promised, her thumb brushing across Barriss’s cheek with her own sorrow painted on her features. “And I will be nearby as well, as you settle. You need only call,”

In the end Luminara did not walk up with Barriss, had guided her to make the hardest steps herself, and she had. The dorm room was dark, and mostly quiet when she entered. Ahsoka was sprawled haphazardly on her bed, with her phone settled by her head and quietly playing music too low for the older woman to make out.

Her belongings were unpacked quietly and carefully. Computer and books organized on the desk, clothes settled into the provided dresser. Her dead phone removed from her bag and plugged in, settled on the corner of the desk as well. When everything was just as she wanted it, and she could complete Maghrib, it was clear two very separate people occupied the space, with her neat organization, and color coded notebooks, and Ahsoka’s mess of books and notebooks opened and sprawled out with diagrams already across the desk.

It was mildly endearing, though Barriss had to wonder if it would ever come to grind on her. She had to hope it would not, as she quite enjoyed her current arrangement. She had many thoughts about the woman occupying the other space, as she retreated once more to the space provided for her fifth and final vesper of the night. She wasn’t necessarily distracted, but she did find herself pondering questions she’d never had before.

Sleep came that night with a new fear, one she had never entertained before, because no one else had ever held such meaning to her life, especially not in such a short time. The fear that perhaps Ahsoka did not like her at all? As sleep found her, Barriss promised, either to the sleeping Ahsoka, or to the ceiling, she was not certain, that she would wish to learn about the types of different engineering as well.