#The silver shilling

[heliphantie]

"Leap of Faith", ep. 20(85) of season 4 (March 29, 2014).

“Flim Flam Miracle Curative Tonic is Granny Smith tested and Applejack approved! Granny Smith drinks it, why shouldn’t you?”

“Leap of Faith” may be my favorite Applejack episode, favorite S4 episode and one of the top favorite episodes in entire FiM! Applejack-focused episodes in particular are interesting in that, rather than having her learned to be true to her Element, they’re often about testing her faithfulness to it, making her putting her sense of justice in question and having to decide when she ought to follow her moral compass without risk to bring harm with it instead of benefits.

Flim & Flam, in that regard, make pretty good antagonists for her. Two families have quite a few similar priorities: like Apples, Bros are pragmatic, seeking profit from their actions, and work perfectly in sinch for common goal, but their ethics are diametrically different, and as it happens, Applejack sometimes even prone to fall into temptation to use rather similar tactics (take decision to rationalize technology in lieu of traditional work, or use invitation to gala for /pretty sure, illegal in these circumstances/ selling apple products here to rich attendees – wouldn’t she just ask Celestia for financial aid to the national hero’s family instead? – and don’t we forget her alliance with Filthy Rich without Granny’s consent) before it backfires on her as well. So, she has valid reasons for having disdain for methods of Bros, because she’s been here as well and reaped the bitter fruits of blindly following such policies.

Brothers, in particular, make formidable kind of antagonists on the show: for representing most realistic, mundane, everyday sort of evil, which can’t be redeemed or obliterated unlike any other foe our heroes had to stand against. The evil of commerce and material greed! Moreso, they even can be amicable and work together with heroes without having to change their ways, if that means any mutual benefits. (And basically cemented as allies of Mane 6 in the end of the series.) For, as it turns, money is at once the major drive and major scourge of society, be it mankind or ponies.

Anyway, the moral of this particular story is, one crazy old lady is enough to put the crushing end to your successful scam operation. Fatal flaw of these sleek guys appears to be not thinking their schemes far enough to prevent coming close to any possible source of damage. Other than that, they’re pretty fine, aren’t they? They’re, essentially, an embodiment of the main reason for the franchise itself – product promotion, no wonder they’re more frenemies than foes in the end of day.

[goldensunset]

Oooohhhh After the BW manga you wanna read the Kanto and Johto arcs so bad ooooohhhh l

two games i haven't even played????

[true-blue-sonic]

Imagine if Silver had, like, one (1) random companion who accompanied him during his time travels and gushed to the people of the future about the things Silver and his friends do in the past. Imagine someone from the future learning Espio’s name somehow and asking Silver who that is, only for his companion to interrupt and go “oh that’s the cute boy that Silver has a crush on”

I do have an OC who could potentially fit that role, namely Oliver: he's exactly the kind of trouble-finding embodiment of chaos who'd just so happen to get yoinked along with Silver on a time-travel adventure by sheer accident, haha. He'd also proceed to cause trouble like no other, but Silver's got a handle on things. And once the boys are home again, Oliver will have plenty of stories to tell everyone about! Including tales of Espio, with a complete disregard for the fact Silver has no idea what is going on when getting slapped in the face with Boyfriend Accusations.

That being said, I do think it's quite funny that even the people from the future can see just how fond Silver and Espio are of each other despite only knowing vague stories of heroics about the latter. And I think Silver might not be much help, because he will extensively compliment Espio and marvel about just how skilled of a ninja and fighter he is. Even people who have never even heard of Espio and his feats at all will figure there's more going on between Silver and him than meets the eye! And once back in the past again, Silver is going to tell Espio all about this, who is partially touched by Silver's high opinion on him and partially dying of embarrassment that he's gotten presented in such a way in the future. But he is just happy Silver is happy, and that is what is most important <3

[violetrose-art]

I made some adjustments to the designs of Apple Buck, Scarlet Apple, Goldie Apple, and Apple Sprout, the children of Applejack and Silver Shill

[scare-ard--sleigh]

like what i really need is

more tattoos

slutty wardrobe that adequately shows off said tattoos

[coinstree]

1723 Shilling George I Coin UK Silver SS and C in angles 1st bust

Obverse: bust of King George I right, legend around 1st biust Obverse legend: GEORGIVSD'G:MBRFRETHIBREXFD Reverse: Crowned cruciform shields around central Garter star, divided date above, legend around. Reverse legend: BRVN ET L DVX S R I A TH ET EL17 23 (SS and C in angles) Edge: reeded Denomination: one shilling Country: United Kingdom Ruler: George I (28 May 1660 – 11 June 1727) Year: 1723 Metal: Silver (0.925) Weight ±: 5.66 g. Diameter ±: 25.5 mm Authenticity unconditionally guaranteed! Read the full article

[oldercoins]

A 1921 George V debased silver shilling in a quite worn, circulated condition. Debased to fifty percent silver content, this coin would make an addition to your British pre decimal collection. Available on ebay.

https://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/126746634829?mkcid=16&mkevt=1&mkrid=711-127632-2357-0&ssspo=GUJF81HBQwa&sssrc=4429486&ssuid=GUJF81HBQwa&var=&widget_ver=artemis&media=COPY

[oldcurrencyexchange]

Irish Coin Daily: Confederate Catholic Shilling - Counter-marked on a base Shilling of Elizabeth I

Date: 1642-43 Kilkenny (Rebel) Money (counter-marked twice) to denote a Shilling on a base Shilling of Elizabeth I Description: Kilkenny Rebel Money Shilling; issued by the Catholic Confederacy of Kilkenny from 1642-43 and counter-marked on a base Shilling of Elizabeth I (her first issue of base coinage for Ireland, in 1558); the counter-mark is struck on either side of the monarch’s bust in the…

[persephonesdreams21]

Sweet Tooth

A/N: Well let me say first and foremost. My bad guys. Lol I didn't mean to keep this rotting in my drafts for almost a year, but life got crazy. I hope you guys enjoy this

Warnings: Explicit. Oral(fem receiving) Body worship. Finger sucking. Squirting. Multiple orgasms. Willy being down bad.

Summary: You’re sweeter than any chocolate he could cook up, and Willy is all too eager to show you just how much he craves you. Your smiles, your attention…your taste.

The last few weeks of your life have been vibrant.

Filled with technicolor so unlike the dreary years you’ve spent in this town. Between the weather and the chipped cobblestone, England was so gray this time of year. Frigid and frozen over with winter winds and a constant flurry of snow.

It was on a particularly cold night that you’d found him.

Saved him, he’d argue whenever he told the story. Saved him from Bleacher and his mangy mutt.

“Don't you ever get tired of harassing people?” you'd sighed as you'd stumbled upon the scene. A familiar one- another poor soul about to get roped into Bleacher and Scrubbit’s barely concealed hoodwink. Everyone who’d grown up in this city knew better.

“Why don't you mind your business, Y/N. And leave us be. Both me and mister-” Bleacher looks to the man. The one with the sharp cheekbones and the ostentatious velvet trench coat.

“Wonka. Willy Wonka” And he’d said it with such innocence gleaming in those bright eyes that in that moment, you knew you couldn't let him fall victim to the cruel scam.

That’s how you’d ended up with an unexpected housemate.

The home you’d grown up in is nothing special and far from fancy, but you do happen to have a spare room. One with an old fold-out bed that’s more comfortable than it looks. It may have been stupid, but you couldn't help but trust him. Want to help him, feel this pull to him…

That was weeks ago. Almost a month now.

Willy living with you, under your roof, feels oddly natural. Like it had been years that the two of you had been co-existing, he fits into your space like he was destined to come to you. Like he belongs there; the two of you working together like a well oiled machine.

You cook dinner, he washes the dishes and wipes down the counters. The house has never been neater. Even though you try to deny them, every day when he returns from the Gallery Gourmet, he leaves silver shillings in the key bowl on the kitchen table.

“It’s not much…but I want to make sure I’m paying my way. I’m real appreciative of all you’ve done for me” he tells you so earnestly it makes you blush. You sneakily slip his sovereigns in the pockets of his trousers when you do his laundry.

He doesn't know it but he’s helped you too. And not just by scrubbing dishes.

You truly hadnt realized how lonely you were until he came along, and you were terrified of losing your found companion. You’d hold on to him for as long as he’d allow.

Your new favorite time of the day is the evenings; quiet ones. With a fire burning in the hearth and the radio playing softly. You and Willy curl up on the couch, warm in your respective quilts. And read. Well, you read to him. At his persistent insistence.

“Aren't you tired of me blabbing yet?” you tease as you pick up the dog eared copy of The Hobbit that the two of you had been working your way through.

Willy gives you a grin, all boyish and crooked “Never that. I adore the way you tell stories”

That makes your stomach swoop dangerously and you shake your head “You’re a flatter, Mr. Wonka”

“No, no. Your voice is more melodic than the bells of Notre Dame” and when he says things like that to you, how are you not supposed to swoon? From any other man it would make you scoff, but from Willy his compliments always feel different.

Like maybe he’s telling the truth…

You ignore it and change the subject to something that feels safer “One day i'm gonna put you in front of a map and make you show me all the places you’ve been”

“Honestly, It would probably be easier to mark off the few places I haven't been-”

“Oh ho ho ho. How modest of you, great explorer” You tease around a laugh and his ears redden a bit at your ribbing.

“It's not like that and you know it” Willy defends “It was a lot less glamorous than it sounds. I spent seven years under the deck scrubbing pots and then collecting ingredients for my chocolate whenever we made port”

“And wooing girls on every continent?” I ask and that blush on his ears spreads to the high apples of his cheeks.

He’s a pretty one and you know even though he pretends to be demure, might come off as innocent, he’s anything but.

You’d gotten a small taste of it, and hadn't thought of anything else since. But neither of you had quite mustered the bravery to talk about that yet.

The two of you settle in on the old worn couch with mugs of steaming hot chocolate, courtesy of Willy. He’d spoiled you rotten, made you develop a terrible sweet tooth. Any cavities you develop, you’re completely blaming on him.

“Willy” you whine.

“Just try it, please. I made this recipe especially for you”

You take a sip.

The first rush of flavor over your taste buds has your eyes fluttering.

“Mmm, oh my god” you can't help but moan. It’s the most complex thing you’ve ever tasted. Truly. He’s outdone himself- cinnamon and warmth.The kind that feels like a a lovers embrace. Sweet milk chocolate. Is that a hit of rose? “This is insane, what’s in this?”

At your praise Willy smiles like the cat that caught the canary “Cinnamon bark from Sri Lanka, Wild roses from China. Coconut milk”

You look over at him, appraising. Trying to figure out why his voice has taken on that husk. Why his eyes are boring into so intensely.

“What a peculiar combination of flavors” you whisper and Willy bites his lip.

“Its become my favorite combination lately” he admits “but I can't seem to get it quite right. You see, I was allowed to taste it only once, and its tormented me since”

Your breath hitches. Flashes of tangling tongues tongues and his lips pressed against yours. It had only been one kiss but it had wreaked havoc on you since.

You eyeball the mug in your hands. Maybe you weren't the only one suffering with the after effects after all.

“Is this chocolate supposed to taste like?...”

“You. Yes. Your kiss. Your tongue and your lips” Willy nods. “I don't know if anything can come close to the real thing, but I tried”

Your heart thunders behind your ribcage. The longing in his voice matches the one within your gut, the need that had been brewing.

“I’ve spent hours. Thinking of you, trying to imitate your taste so that I could have it one more time. Spicy, but not quite. More warm. Sweet…the floral note from your lipstick. I’ve been nearly everywhere and i’ve never sampled anything quite like it”

With his confession, the thin thread of control snaps.

You’d been trying, so hard. Trying not to scare him away. Trying to keep the intensity of your feelings at bay so that he’d stay, even after he secured his shop. That he wouldnt leave you when he found success-

You place the mug down on the old wood of the side table-

“Please” Willy’s pathetic as he grabs at your arm “Don't go, I understand if this was too much but I- I didn't know how else to show you”

You lean into his touch, not away and that seems to calm him if only just.

Of course this sweet silly man couldn't just tell you that he cared for you. That was not his style. He was bad with words, so much better with his hands. To him, he’d shown you the most sincere form of devotion, crafted your portrait with his most loved medium.

“I feel the same” you say, voice quivering just the tiniest bit. His eyes melt and he comes in close, forehead knocking against yours.

When you kiss him its hot from the start. It’s wet and electric, charged with emotion. With desperation. Willy’s sinewy hands are all over you, cupping your chin, squeezing your waist, so much more bold this time. The waiting had lowered any inhibitions he might have had.

It’s frantic, him unbuttoning your blouse and you tugging at his trousers.

You need more. Need to feel his dark silky hair between your fingers, his pale skin under your palms.

Nothing feels like enough. Not when he mouths at your garment covered breasts or when you wiggle out of your skirt.

You reach into his boxers, wanting to palm at the blood hot hardness you’ll find there-

He groans and pulls his mouth away from your neck, where he’d been suckling marks into the delicate skin. “Wait, don’t”

“Why?” you’re confused, you can feel him. Firm and needy under the cloth.

“Because I want to take care of you first. With my mouth. If you’ll let me”

And oh. Oh.

All you can do is nod. Lay back and let him take what he needs, you feel more vulnerable than ever before. When he blankets you with his body, you realize that you also feel safer. Adored by this man, by this odd beautiful man.

Willy is a tactile person. He wants to touch and taste. And so that is what he does.

There’s so much to feel. Your heavy breasts, peaked with hard little nipples that he swirls his tongue round. Your belly and wide hips, so soft, so much give, he watches his fingers dig in and indent. Your thighs, so plush.

He buries his head between them. And inhales, deeply.

“Willy!” you exclaim, scandalized, trying to close your legs, but he shoulders his way deeper.

“You smell so good” Willy reassures you, his nose pressed against the wet patch on your knickers. Groaning like it’s the best scent in the world.

He takes his time, savors the moment as he peels the damp fabric away. His eyes locked on how the strings of slick stretch and shine in the low fire light. You’re so wet, the puffy lips of your cunt sopping already. And when he takes his first tentative lap, he knows that he could do this for hours and there's no way he’d ever be able to replicate it.

Nectar from the gods. Earthy and sour sweet.

You whimper as he feasts, as he gorges greedily. The sight of his dark head bobbing between your thighs makes you shudder. It’s almost unreal. That he’s doing this, that he wants you. His arms are wrapped around the back of your thighs, holding them up, holding you open.

You come for the first time with your fingers buried in his hair, pressing his face deep into you. Riding his nose and tongue.

For the second time you’re arching away from the sharp pleasure.

“Willy” you choke on your whines as his fingers reach deep into you, hitting that sensitive place inside over and over. You’re shaking with overstimulation, but hes groaning like he’s the one being brought to orgasm over and over.

He pulls his wet mouth away every so often. To tell you how beautiful you are. How good you taste.

“I can’t” you whisper, warningly.

“Please” Willy insists, his breath against your clit “One more, one more for me”

You can't deny him anything, can you?

You arch right up from the couch cushions, squealing as you hit that peak again. But this time is different, this time something inside you bursts, pushing wetness out in a flood.

Willy lets out a gutted sound from where he’s smothered by your thighs, that have tightened vice like around his head during your orgasm.

Coming down from it is almost painful and you’ve never sobbed from pleasure but well. There’s a first time for everything. While you shake and shiver Willy’s gentle, petting your thighs and tummy in soothing circles. Pulling away from your over sensitive flesh.

He stares up at you, his gaze heavy and his tongue poking out every few seconds. Swiping at his wet lips. Like he can't stop tasting you. It’s debauched. Beautiful.

“You are the best thing i’ve ever tasted” Willy pants out the vow, raw with honesty. Drunk on the flavor of you.

Wryly, you wonder if he’ll try to manufacture it into a truffle. A fancy bon bon.

You smile as he climbs back fully on top of you, your arms wrapping around him and holding him close. You kiss the shell of his ear before whispering-

“My turn to taste you”

🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬

I never thought I’d be writing Willy Wonka smut but well. Here I am lol

[fashionsfromhistory]

Jacket

c.1630-1650

Italy or England

Several examples of knitted jackets or waistcosts survive in museum collections are waistcoats, with well-known examples in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London (473-1893, 346-1898, 106-1899 and 807-1904). Both men and women wore these items of clothing either as undergarments during the day or as informal déshabillé or undress at home in the evening to provide additional warmth. These items tend to fall into two categories: Italian waistcoats that open down the front, sometimes known as Florentine waistcoats, and those that pulled over the head. Italian waistcoats were knitted using one or two colours of silk yarn, in imitation of patterns found on woven silks, the effect often enhanced with the use of purl stitches. The fine gauge of these waistcoats suggests that they were hand-knitted in professional workshops, using extremely fine metal knitting needles, known as ‘wires’, for wealthy classes to buy as ready-to-wear clothing. The garment is constructed from rectangular knitted sections; two front panels, two back panels and two sleeves. Several have triangular gores inserted to provide additional width over the hips, at home by the wearer or a member of their household. Their name suggests that they were made in Italy and exported to northern Europe, but it is now known that fine silk yarns were imported from Naples to London from the late sixteenth century to supply the native knitting industry. Because knitted waistcoats were for informal wear there are no known sources showing them being worn, making it hard to give them a more specific date. They appear to have originated at the beginning of the seventeenth century. Lady Elizabeth Howard, the wife of Lord William Howard (1563–1640) ordered ‘a pound of woosted for wastecotes’ for 9 shillings in 1618 and the Danish Royal family used knitted silk waistcoats for children’s shrouds during this period. Knitted waistcoats continued to be worn throughout the century. There are records of waistcoats being relined during the course of their use. Sir Thomas Isham (1656/7–81) is billed £1 5s 6d from his tailor for ‘new Lining A Purple and gold Silke knit wastcoate’ in April 1680. There are continuing references to them also in the early eighteenth century, including a London newspaper report of the theft of a ‘green silk knit waistcoat with gold and silver flowers all over it’ in 1712.

Glasgow Museums (ID Number: 29.126)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

shilver

SHILVER... but the banner features VIL somehow??? 😭 That would be Silver's name in an AU where he was sorted into Octavinelle 🤣 because "shill" means "an accomplice of a swindler who acts as an enthusiastic customer to entice or encourage others; a person who publicly helps or gives credibility to a person or organization without disclosing that they have a close relationship with said person or organization".

asdybayofqef Sebek has expressed in his Union Jacket vignettes that if he were to pick another dorm, he would select Octavinelle... so he can Shilver can be there together as Azul's new muscular bouncers www (I don't think Silver would be that useful of a salesman though, if White Rabbit Fest was of any indication:)

[ventique18]

I was looking forward to day 7 because I wanted to see how CREATIVE the writers would be to make Lilia, MALLEUS, and Silver lose, of all people. And honestly this was so???? Out of character? An actual throw away? Trash? 😭

There was NO logical way for these three combined to lose. Ruggie, the cunning Ruggie, would absolutely not remind Diasomnia that buying 50 thaumark worth of goodies would let them compete in hanetsuki if it would make the sales crew lose a match; especially since there's a special prize at stake.

And unlike the other dorms, they literally didn't even describe what the hell happened to make Diasomnia lose. They just said oh Diasomnia lost and that was it. No "ah Silver fell asleep", "ah Lilia's back suddenly hurt", or whatever the hell of a reason would make Malleus lose (it's impossible). Instead they diverted the focus entirely on Sebek wanting Ruggie and Cater, his teammates, to lose. Wtf. 😭

I know I'm a cringe Diasomnia shill but come on, everybody who plays Twst knows that the three-time champion of Spelldrive would NOT lose in a battle of mobility. They should have at least made an actual comedy of it like, them breaking hagoita and getting disqualified or something. Literally just anything instead of just saying they lost without explanation.

[jesuisgourde]

A list of all the books mentioned in Peter Doherty's journals (and in some interviews/lyrics, too)

Because I just made this list in answer to someone's question on a facebook group, I thought I may as well post it here.

-The Picture of Dorian Gray/The Ballad Of Reading Gaol/Salome/The Happy Prince/The Duchess of Padua, all by Oscar Wilde -The Thief's Journal/Our Lady Of The Flowers/Miracle Of The Rose, all by Jean Genet -A Diamond Guitar by Truman Capote -Mixed Essays by Matthew Arnold -Venus In Furs by Leopold Sacher-Masoch -The Ministry Of Fear by Graham Greene -Brighton Rock by Graham Green -A Season in Hell by Arthur Rimbaud -The Street Of Crocodiles (aka Cinnamon Shops) by Bruno Schulz -Opium: The Diary Of His Cure by Jean Cocteau -The Lost Weekend by Charles Jackson -Howl by Allen Ginsberg -Women In Love by DH Lawrence -The Tempest by William Shakespeare -Trilby by George du Maurier -The Vision Of Jean Genet by Richard Coe -"Literature And The Crisis" by Isaiah Berlin -Le Cid by Pierre Corneille -The Paris Peasant by Louis Aragon -Junky by William S Burroughs -Absolute Beginners by Colin MacInnes -Futz by Rochelle Owens -They Shoot Horses Don't They? by Horace McCoy -"An Inquiry On Love" by La revolution surrealiste magazine -Idea by Michael Drayton -"The Nymph's Reply to The Shepherd" by Sir Walter Raleigh -Hamlet by William Shakespeare -The Silver Shilling/The Old Church Bell/The Snail And The Rose Tree all by Hans Christian Andersen -120 Days Of Sodom by Marquis de Sade -Letters To A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke -Poetics Of Space by Gaston Bachelard -In Favor Of The Sensitive Man and Other Essays by Anais Nin -La Batarde by Violette LeDuc -Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov -Intimate Journals by Charles Baudelaire -Juno And The Paycock by Sean O'Casey -England Is Mine by Michael Bracewell -"The Prelude" by William Wordsworth -Noise: The Political Economy of Music by Jacques Atalli -"Elm" by Sylvia Plath -"I am pleased with my sight..." by Rumi -She Stoops To Conquer by Oliver Goldsmith -Amphitryon by John Dryden -Oscar Wilde by Richard Ellman -The Song Of The South by James Rennell Rodd -In Her Praise by Robert Graves -"For That He Looked Not Upon Her" by George Gascoigne -"Order And Disorder" by Lucy Hutchinson -Man Crazy by Joyce Carol Oates -A Pictorial History Of Sex In The Movies by Jeremy Pascall and Clyde Jeavons -Anarchy State & Utopia by Robert Nozick -"Limbo" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge -Men In Love: Masculinity and Sexuality in the Eighteenth Century by George Haggerty

[arbitrary line break because tumble hates lists apparently]

-Crime And Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky -Innocent When You Dream: the Tom Waits Reader -"Identity Card" by Mahmoud Darwish -Ulysses by James Joyce -The Four Quartets poems by TS Eliot -Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare -A'Rebours/Against The Grain by Joris-Karl Huysmans -Prisoner Of Love by Jean Genet -Down And Out In Paris And London by George Orwell -The Man With The Golden Arm by Nelson Algren -Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates -"Epitaph To A Dog" by Lord Byron -Cocaine Nights by JG Ballard -"Not By Bread Alone" by James Terry White -Anecdotes Of The Late Samuel Johnson by Hester Thrale -"The Owl And The Pussycat" by Edward Lear -"Chevaux de bois" by Paul Verlaine -A Strong Song Tows Us: The Life of Basil Bunting by Richard Burton -Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes -The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri -The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling -The Man Who Would Be King by Rudyard Kipling -Ask The Dust by John Frante -On The Trans-Siberian Railways by Blaise Cendrars -The 39 Steps by John Buchan -The Overcoat by Nikolai Gogol -The Government Inspector by Nikolai Gogol -The Iliad by Homer -Heart Of Darkness by Joseph Conrad -The Volunteer by Shane O'Doherty -Twenty Love Poems and A Song Of Despair by Pablo Neruda -"May Banners" by Arthur Rimbaud -Literary Outlaw: The life and times of William S Burroughs by Ted Morgan -The Penguin Dorothy Parker -Smoke by William Faulkner -Hero And Leander by Christopher Marlowe -My Lady Nicotine by JM Barrie -All I Ever Wrote by Ronnie Barker -The Libertine by Stephen Jeffreys -On Murder Considered As One Of The Fine Arts by Thomas de Quincey -The Void Ratio by Shane Levene and Karolina Urbaniak -The Remains Of The Day by Kazuo Ishiguro -Dead Fingers Talk by William S Burroughs -The England's Dreaming Tapes by Jon Savage -London Underworld by Henry Mayhew

[raayllum]

Lissa had always wanted a mirror.

A big one, nearly ceiling to floor, and rimmed in gold or silver. Pretty, pristine. Elegant.

Warriors in Del Bar prided themselves on fine furs and neatly braided hair, and though her family had never had much money—just enough to send her for schooling as a minstrel, which had brought her to Katolis ("If you were really twice as clever you'd go into maths or medicine," her mother had admonished)—Lissa had taken as much pride in her appearance as she could. She knew the cut of her furs draped over her shoulders made her look fetching, and where to place the flower in her hair to bring out her eyes.

Fetching enough to catch the eye of the court mage's apprentice, clearly.

In the lead up to their wedding, Lissa had brought up her yearnings, surprised when her husband-to-be resisted.

"You certainly spend a far amount of time preening like a peacock," she'd needled goodnaturedly.

Viren had snorted in reply, sitting on the bench in the courtyard they often occupied these days. "What do you need with a mirror when you have me each day to tell you how lovely you look?"

And then he'd leaned in and kissed her sweetly, softly, and she hadn't dropped the matter entirely in the weeks to follow—"Couldn't it be your wedding gift to me?"—but one day, he wakes up from a nightmare and confessed the truth.

"The first time you do dark magic, mages... fall prey to visions, nightmares. In mine, there was a mirror. Oblong and grand."

Lissa takes his face in his hands, his beard just a tad untidy; she'll fix it for him later in the morning, under the warm light of day. For now she hopes the warmth of her hands are enough, his skin clammy and cold—almost gaunt and grey with fear.

"I saw—a version of myself. Grotesque, and... Sometimes, I still cannot get it out of my head."

She pulls him to her, stroking his back and catching their reflections in the tiny, square mirror across the way on their dresser. His breathing slows, and she smiles when his hands drift to the growing curve of her stomach. His ear to her heartbeat.

"It was just a nightmare," she assures him, drawing away to look again into his handsome face, and Viren leans into her touch.

She has what she needs; a large mirror does not need to be among them.

(Years later, in one final bid for her favour, Viren buys her the grandest mirror his yearly shillings can afford, but all she sees is the jagged lines on his face, covered up by more magic. Besides, it's not like she spends time in their bedroom anyway these days.

Even later, Viren hauls the mirror from his nightmares from the dragon king's lair back to the castle. What does it matter what he becomes?

Lissa is already gone.)

[blueiscoool]

Hoard of 17th-Century Coins Hidden During English Civil War Found

During a kitchen renovation, a family in England unexpectedly discovered a hoard of coins that was likely buried for safekeeping during the first English Civil War.

A family in England discovered nearly 400-year-old buried treasure during a recent home renovation project. The find includes more than 1,000 gold and silver coins that were likely hidden during the first English Civil War.

Betty and Robert Fooks unexpectedly unearthed the 17th-century hoard at their cottage in South Poorton Farm, Dorset, in 2019. Now, these coins have hit the auction block and sold for upward of $75,900 (60,740 British pounds), according to the hammer prices listed by Duke's, an auction house in Dorchester that handled the sales.

Robert Fooks made the discovery while pickaxing the kitchen floor to remove about 2 feet (0.6 meter) of flooring material, including modern concrete, old flagstone and bare earth. Then, he saw a broken glazed-ceramic vessel brimming with coins in the layer of soil dating back about 400 years. It's unclear if the bowl was broken before or during the recent discovery, according to Duke's.

The couple contacted a local finds liaison officer, who arranged for the coins to be sent to the British Museum, where they were cleaned and identified, according to The Guardian. The British Museum noted that the coins were likely deposited on a single occasion between about 1642 and 1644, dates likely based on the coins' mint dates.

The coins in the collection, named the Poorton Coin Hoard, range from modest sixpences, which were worth six pennies, to a coveted gold "unite" coin that was worth 20 shillings, or 1 pound, and depict the visages of English monarchs Edward VI; Mary and her husband Philip; Elizabeth I; James I; and Charles I, who ruled successively from 1547 to 1649.

Many of the coins sold individually or in groups at auction on April 23. A single gold coin of Charles I brought in the highest price, at 5,000 British pounds ($6,260), while some lots went for far more than their estimated value.

The period in which the coins were likely hidden — 1642 to 1644 — coincides with the first English Civil War, which lasted from 1642 to 1646. The three civil wars were fought between supporters of the English monarch, then Charles I, and Parliament, to determine the balance of power between the crown and Parliament.

"Perhaps the most important short-term significance of the Civil Wars was that it culminated in the execution of King Charles I in 1649 and a republic was established for the first time in English history which lasted 11 years," Waseem Ahmed, a doctoral student of history at University College London who specializes in 17th century British political history but was not involved in the hoard's discovery or analysis.

It's no surprise that people hid their money back then, as warfare during this time included the seizure of opponents' property, he said.

"If you were a royalist or suspected royalist, you could have your estates sequestrated (seized) by the Parliamentary side and vice versa," Ahmed explained. This may be the case for the 17th-century homeowner, as Dorset was a hotspot for troop movements and the turbulence that followed.

It's likely that someone buried the Poorton Coin Hoard with the hopes of safeguarding it and retrieving it later. And while the treasure was certainly safeguarded, its retrieval took four centuries longer than its owner likely desired.

"If we hadn't lowered the floor, they would still be hidden there," Betty Fooks told The Guardian. "I presume the person intended to retrieve them but never got the chance."

By Hannah Kate Simon.