#the silversmith brothers

[milksockets]

christian marytrs from roman catacombs: 'the skeletons were decorated by nuns who were skilled in textile + beadwork, or lay brothers who had trained as gold- and silversmiths. the bones would be articulated + covered over with jewels, or placed in finely wrought suits of armor with cutouts strategically placed to reveal their skeletal nature' in memento mori: the dead among us - paul koudounaris (2015)

[im-a-wonderling]

White Moves First, Part 7 ~ Edmund Pevensie

Summary: Despite the distance between their two lands, Y/N, princess of Archenland, is close friends with King Edmund the Just. But when push comes to shove, will friendship turn to more?

Warnings: an unhealthy paternal relationship and a deviation from canon as I don't think Archenland ever had chapels in the Golden Age. But we can't have a royal wedding without a chapel!!

Word count: 5.6k

White Moves First Masterlist | Main masterlist

Edmund ran down the corridor, the absurd frills of his blue and silver wedding doublet scratching at his neck. He should’ve known better than to trust Susan to give him something wilace, but that was not what he cared about now. Edmund tried to get the attention of the manservant walking past him, but the man didn’t notice him until Edmund grabbed his shoulder. “Where’s the king?” he asked.

“In his study, Your Majesty.”

Edmund took off down the hallway again. Of all days for the silversmith to go on a trip to visit his brother, why did it have to be today? The ceremony was going to start in less than an hour, and Edmund still didn’t have Y/N’s proper ring. It was supposed to arrive by courier this morning, and there was no sign of any courier, and the silversmith was gone. 

Was it Edmund’s fault? Had Edmund designed too complicated a ring for too short a time? He’d wanted the ring to be special and completely unique, something that Y/N could be proud to wear. Now, because he was so particular, she wasn’t going to have a ring for the wedding.

Which was unacceptable and entirely his fault. Two of his least favorite things. 

Edmund burst into the study. “Your Majesty–” He stopped in the doorway, seeing the desk empty. He scowled. Why would the manservant have said that King Loon was in the study when–

“Well, if it isn’t the groom himself.”

Edmund’s spine stiffened as he slowly turned to see the foreign prince who sat on an armchair, legs crossed and fingers swirling a glass definitely not holding water. Rabadash’s fashionable ensemble was neat and lacked any of the stifling ruffles of Edmund’s as well as any sweat stains like the ones Edmund could feel underneath his arms that he hoped were discreet. 

Rabadash rose from his armchair with smooth ease. “Does the Just King need directions to the stables for a quick getaway?” 

Edmund took a deep breath. 

It was not worth it. 

Not today.

He wheeled around and left. At first he thought only his heart was beating in his ears, until the sound of footsteps grew loud. “Don’t fret, Your Majesty, I assure you the princess will not be lonely in your absence.” 

Don’t answer, Edmund commanded himself. There are bigger things to worry about. Like Y/N’s ring. 

“Of course, my company would not be able to ease the pain in your heart.”

Edmund whirled around. “What in blazes are you going on about?”

“Do you love her?”

“I wouldn’t be marrying her if I didn’t,” Edmund snapped before he even had a chance to think about it. 

Rabadash chuckled, his eyes flicking to the ceiling like it would start laughing along with him if it could. “You don’t even understand how true that statement is.”

“Do you have anything of substance to say,” Edmund’s hands curled into fists, “or will you continue to prattle? Because I’m needed in the chapel shortly.”

Rabadash lifted his hand, showing off his much too long, yet perfectly manicured nails on fingers that had never done a hard or honest day’s work in their life. “You and your precious princess should know: I love a good challenge. Marrying her simply because of you would be too easy.”

Edmund started to turn away before Rabadash’s words fully registered, and he hovered. He wanted to keep walking, to pay Rabadash as much attention as the prince deserved, which was far less than he’d already gotten. But this concerned Y/N.

“What do you mean?” Edmund demanded.

“Oh, did Y/N not tell you?” 

Edmund kept his anger in check, knowing that a bland expression was far more antagonizing than an angry one. This crooked-nosed knave was trying to divide the two of them. Well, it wouldn’t work. Y/N would never keep information from him.

Would she? 

“Tell me what?” 

Rabadash leaned against the wall, clearly relishing Edmund’s attention despite the casual airs he was trying to put on. “I only wanted her because of you. If she was in Tashbaan as my wife, you would never allow Narnia to attack, because no matter how upset you were about your barbarian sister, risking Y/N’s life would be unthinkable. A lifelong hostage to secure my country’s well being.”

Edmund didn’t realize he was holding his breath until pressure started building in his chest. Rabadash had set his claims on Y/N because of him?

“The stoic,” Rabadash stepped closer, “level-headed,” another step, “mighty King Edmund.” He spread his hands, showing off for an imaginary audience. “The man capable of winning any negotiation leapt onto a dance floor to save one woman from a Calormen prince.” Rabadash lowered his arms, his smile somehow becoming more sinister. “And it wasn’t his sister.”

Edmund thought back to the ball, trying to recall when Rabadash had danced with Susan, but while he could list off every one of the nine dances Rabadash had partnered with Y/N for, he didn’t even have a memory of Susan on the dance floor at all.

“You showed your cards, King Edmund. All of this would’ve been easier if you’d just let me have her, but no.” The prince’s voice lowered to a whisper: “The Tisroc, may he live forever, has agents in the Narnian court.”

Edmund’s blood turned icy in his veins as the prince’s face darkened, hinting at the void of evil resting in this one man. 

“It wouldn’t take much, you know. An unlocked bedchamber door…a sleight of hand over a wine goblet…an unaccompanied walk in the gardens…and a marriage is over almost before it began.”

Edmund reeled away, putting as much distance between himself and Rabadash as he could. The faster he moved, the less likely it was that his fist would become enthusiastically acquainted with the prince’s nose. 

Y/N.

He had to find her. 

Not caring what the prince thought, Edmund broke into a run. 

-

I stared out of my drawing room window at the Northern mountains as I had many times before. Except now, I knew with certainty I would pass through those mountains to see the beautiful country on the other side. 

Narnia. 

Nerves fluttered in my stomach, reminding me that I hadn’t been able to force down my breakfast this morning, nor my dinner last night. When night fell, I’d lain in bed, worrying about whether or not my dress would be completed in time. 

As I gently ran my fingers along the soft taffeta of my bodice, I knew I needn’t have worried, and yet I was quite sure I would’ve found something else to worry about, like forgetting the vows that my father had written for the ceremony. Memorizing them had rankled every part of me, but I was grateful enough to Edmund for convincing my father to let me say vows that I couldn’t complain. Not when I was about to leave this castle. The vows would be the last time my father spoke for me. 

I heard the latch of the drawing room door lift. “It’s not even ten o’clock yet, Rona,” I sighed. “We still have another half hour to wait at least.” There was no answer, but I was quite content to draw comfort from the mountain line in silence. I might never see them again from this side. 

“Princess.”

The familiar voice so dear to me had me turning in an instant.

My fiance hovered just inside the doorway, his chest rising and falling as if he’d been running. “Edmund? What are you doing here?” Even as I asked, I laughed a little at the idea of Lord Trane’s face if he were to know that Edmund had seen me in my wedding dress before the wedding.

Edmund looked at the dress, looking more and more like he’d swallowed a frog.

“Do I look very nice?” I asked mischievously, referencing our conversation in the gardens after the ball. But my teasing didn’t make Edmund relax or smile.

“Y-you look…I mean…it’s…” 

“Edmund?” I stepped forward, concerned about his shallow, rapid breathing. Something wasn’t right. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know this isn’t what you wanted, but Rabadash is here–everyone is here, and they’re all gonna stare at us as we get married and they’ll be watching us for the rest of our lives–and your ring–a-and your father–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Edmund!” He buried his face in his hands, and I ran to him, placing my hands on his elbows, trying to coax his hands away from his face, but his stance was rock-solid. “How can I make this better?” I asked, feeling so helpless. 

“I don’t know.” His muffled words were so stressed, it made me feel sick. 

I lifted my hands to his head, taking off his crown and setting it on my chessboard right next to me before soothingly brushing his hair back like Rona did once when I was sick. “It’s not too late,” I whispered. “We can still call off the wedding.”

“Absolutely not,” Edmund croaked, pulling his hands away from his face, allowing me to see the deep distress written there. “I won’t leave you vulnerable to Rabadash.” He looked off to the side. Three times he opened his mouth, and three times, I was greeted only by silence. 

My anxiety rose. “What is it?”

Edmund lifted his troubled eyes to mine. “I have uncovered Rabadash’s motives for pursuing you. His observations led him to discover my affection for you and…he believed if he possessed you as his wife, I would never allow war between Narnia and Calormen.” He paused, as if waiting for a reaction. “I’m the reason he was trying to marry you.”

Rabadash’s words from my confrontation with him came floating back. A look is all it takes to know when a man is in love. But Edmund’s panicked expression looked nothing like what I imagined love to look like. Combining his panic with the sudden epiphany he seemed to be having, I knew. “You talked with Rabadash.”

“I tried not to. I tried to walk away, but then he came after me, spouting nonsense about me backing out and how he would,” Edmund’s mouth contorted with repulsion, “comfort you in my absence, and he said that you knew his true motives and didn’t tell me.” 

My gaze fell to the floor, and distantly I realized Edmund was wearing new shoes. 

“You did know.” The disappointment in his voice ripped at me. “Y/N, why in the world wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I should have, especially before you proposed. I-I just didn’t want you to feel…responsible.”

Edmund raked his hands through his hair, making it stick up in comically asymmetrical directions. “But I am responsible. I’m the reason you were ever in danger of marrying him, my treatment and attention put you at risk, not to mention it’s my country he’s trying to overcome. That makes it my solemn duty to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe.” 

Duty.

“Edmund, I…” I didn’t know what to say. It was just like him to do the right thing at the expense of himself. “You didn’t want a marriage. You shouldn’t change that just for some perceived injustice.”

“On the contrary,” he replied, “protecting you is one of the only things that could persuade me to marry at all.” 

A fleeting warmth filled my chest, but it was quickly snuffed out by guilt. “We shouldn’t do this, I cannot ever repay the debt I would owe you if we married, not even–”

“Y/N,” Edmund interrupted. “You do not owe me any debt. If anything, I owe you–”

“No,” I insisted, “how could you possibly–”

Abruptly, we both stopped talking long enough to meet each other’s eyes before laughing. “This is not the future either of us imagined,” I ventured when our laughter stopped.

Edmund’s mirth faded to obvious unease. “Soon we’ll be standing in front of the world, publicly declaring our…”

Love.

“Fidelity.”

My lips twisted at the choice of words, but I couldn’t hold any grudge against Edmund for it. Not with what he was about to do for me. If only we could marry without the onlookers, without all the ceremony. To start a marriage with a performance isn’t something I ever hoped for or something that the sweet, honorous king in front of me deserved. 

Then, an idea started to take shape. 

I licked my lips nervously. “What if…we make our promises here?” 

Edmund blinked. “Huh?” 

I had to withhold a laugh. Whether it bubbled forth from his somewhat adorable confusion or from a bit of hysterics, it wouldn’t be helpful. “We make our true vows now, without anyone watching and without any pretenses.” I gazed at the door. “When we walk out there, we’re a king and a princess, but here, we’re…us. And when we’re talking about the rest of our lives, it’ll be us. Not Rabadash, not my father, not even Archenland and Narnia. Us.” 

I almost could feel the king’s mind racing as it molded itself into an understanding of my words. The suspicion of his expression didn’t lift, but I knew him well enough to know his suspicion often ran alongside his intrigue. “So what would we promise?”

“Ummm.” I wracked my brain, trying to think of the right thing to say. Should I promise loyalty? To bring honor and prosperity to his kingdom? To maintain a happy home for him? But then I looked at my friend, taking in his freckles and soulful brown eyes, and my frenzied thinking slowed. I didn’t want the flowery and unrealistic promises that my father had penned for us, and nor did he. The grand gestures were for the chapel, not this room. My eyes fell upon my beloved chessboard, and the words came to me. “I promise to keep beating you in chess.”

My flippancy was rewarded with a smile and a snort. “You can promise to try.”

Together, we giggled, and I felt my heart lighten enough for my next statement. “I promise to keep believing in you. Whatever plans you set your heart on, I will encourage you and never let you forget your strengths.”

“Or my weaknesses?” Edmund’s mouth curved into a wry smile. 

I smiled back at him. “Oh, we can let those slide.”

“Not entirely, I hope,” he hurried to say. “I wouldn’t want my head to grow too big for my crown.” 

“Your siblings are too similar to mine for them to ever allow that.” 

The room was silent for a moment as Edmund’s gaze locked on mine. “I promise to keep you safe. I will protect you from any threat, whether in the form of a contemptuous prince from Tashbaan or otherwise.”

I tilted my head at the unexpected energy behind his words. “You can promise to try,” I echoed. “But if something happens to me, you don’t get to punish yourself.” 

Edmund shook his head slowly, and I knew there was no way to budge the determination in his eyes. There was no doubt that he would defend me strenuously, though I wasn’t sure what threats possibly awaited me at Cair Paravel.

My turn again. 

With the guilt of withholding Rabadash’s motives from Edmund, I knew what to say next. “I promise to always tell you the truth. If or when you ask for my opinion, I promise to give it as I mean it.”

The change on Edmund’s face was subtle: the ever so slight widening of his eyes and the parting of his lips. I knew the wheels of his mind spun as he processed the words I’d just uttered. 

For a split second, I wavered. Was that the wrong thing to say? I was certain that my mother had never uttered such a promise to my father, and if she had, my father would’ve been insulted, perhaps even angered by such audacity.

Then the corners of Edmund’s mouth turned up, a breathy laugh escaping. “You are sensational, you know that?”

I chuckled, feeling simultaneously self-conscious and relieved. “I am not sure of that.”

“Then I promise to never let you forget. That is what spouses are to do, right?” Edmund took both my hands, his thumb fiddling with the silver signet ring resting on my pointer finger. “Hearten and inspire?”

“I guess so.” I kept my eyes lowered. “I vow to look the other way if you take a lover.”

Edmund sucked in a breath, jerking his hands away from me. “Don’t–”

“It needs to be said,” I whispered. Edmund shook his head violently from side to side, rejecting my promise as vigorously as he could without words.  “Edmund, I know you. Someday, there will be a woman, a very lucky woman, and you will love her with all of your heart. And I won’t stand in the way of that.”

“Y/N–”

“I mean it.”

“That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

“Nothing about this is how it’s supposed to be.” Edmund’s face fell, and I bit down on the inside of my cheek. I’d insulted him, and I hadn’t meant to. “I don’t want this to be suffocating,” I said slowly. “I don’t want to be someone that holds you down, I want to be someone that lifts you up.”

Edmund finally looked at me, his posture more burdened than before. “I will look the other way too,” he said finally. I wanted to argue, to assure him I would not—could not be with any other man—but this was him fighting to give me something he’d always fought to give me. 

Equality. 

“Very well,” I conceded. 

“I promise to do what you ask of me,” Edmund said slowly. “If you make a request that is within my power, I shall grant it.” Such a promise shouldn’t be made lightly, and I knew by my friend’s face that he’d thought it through and meant every word. 

I picked up Edmund’s crown from my chessboard and smoothed his hair down. “You seem calmer.”

“I feel calmer.” Edmund bent down slightly to allow me a better vantage point to properly set his crown on his head. “Are you ready?”

“There’s…something else.” I took a steadying breath, letting my hands fall away from him. “Children.” Edmund immediately ducked his head, red sweeping across his cheeks. His face likely felt as hot as mine, but I plowed forward. “I know it’s uncomfortable, but if we’re going to go through with this, we must talk about it first.”

“Alright.” Edmund rolled his shoulders. “Children aren’t…necessary. I am only one of four monarchs. I do not have to…produce an heir.”

I chewed on that for a moment. “But are they…wanted?” I didn’t receive an answer. “I know you didn’t want a wife, so it’d be fair to assume you don’t want children either.”

Nervous hands adjusted the ruffles at his neck. “I haven’t desired children.” He looked up warily. “Do you want them?” I gnawed on my lip. Edmund didn’t want children, so was there any point in bringing up–

“Y/N,” Edmund said softly. “You promised me honesty if I asked for it.” 

I forcefully pushed my breath out of my mouth in a long sigh. “Yes. I want them. Not right away, but…eventually.”

Edmund bobbed his head nervously, nodding along to my sentiment. “Then…I promise we’ll figure out a way to make it happen.”

My knowledge was admittedly limited, but based on an awkward conversation I’d overheard between my brothers, I was pretty sure there was only one way to make children happen.

Edmund scratched his neck. “I, uh, I designed a ring for you, but it hasn’t arrived, so…we may have to use the signet ring again today.”

He designed it? My curiosity rose, though I was careful to remain reassuring. “That’s alright.” I flashed him what I hoped was a warm smile as I wiggled his signet ring off my pointer finger and dropped it into his palm. “I quite like–”

The bells rang, startling both of us. As they tolled, I felt the weight of every ring. The signal of the ending of our lives up to this point and the beginning of a new life neither one of us had expected. 

“We have to go,” I said, dizzied by the rushing return of my nerves. 

“Yes.” Edmund lifted his head, looking much calmer and nearly resolute. “There is more for us to decide upon, I know, but for now, we’ve made a good start.” He nodded to himself. “We will work everything out.”

The door burst open, and there stood Rona, breathing heavily. “There you are, my lady.” Then her eyes fell on Edmund. “Oh dear,” she said quietly. 

Edmund merely held a hand up to his lips and slid past her. 

She watched him go, her expression filling with dismay. “Bad luck, milady!” she exclaimed once he was gone.

I grinned. “The king and I are making our own luck today, Rona.” I gazed out at the mountains again. “And it’s already quite a serendipitous day.”

-

Rona ushered me in front of the closed chapel doors. “Your father will be waiting at the altar for you, so you will be walking by yourself. When the doors open, that’s your cue!” With that, she scurried off, perhaps to reach her seat before I started my procession. 

My first time inside the chapel’s tall, imposing walls was when I was christened as a baby, but the first time I could remember was the ceremony for my mother’s death. My father had warned me not to fuss, to stand straight, and ‘for heaven’s sake not to cry’. 

Since then, the chapel had proved to be the prime hideout to shed the tears and speak the words I wasn’t allowed to elsewhere. The stained glass windows, the pews, and the great, golden statue of the lion were all great listeners. But there would be no tears today and every spoken word had been chosen for me.

I looked down at my dress, at the long sleeves that hugged my arms and the flowing skirt that ended just before it met the floor, committing the moment in memory. 

The telltale creak of the doors as they opened made me look up, and I froze at the sheer number of people standing at the pews, staring back at me. Blinking at them, I tried counting, but there were too many faces. For every face I recognized, there were five I didn’t. There weren’t even seats for them all, some of the less fortunate having to stand beside the walls. Why had my father invited so many? 

A gradation of harp notes played a sweet tune, spurring me to step into the chapel. 

My father beamed at me from his place at the top of the dias at the end of the aisle, just in front of the statue of Aslan. Edmund waited for me at the foot of the three stairs, looking so regal and composed that I didn’t know whether to envy him or worry that my nerves and dread made us an unequal match. 

As I reached the halfway point, I finally noticed Edmund’s sisters sitting on the right side—the groom’s side—and my brothers sitting on the left. While Queen Lucy lifted a quick hand to her already teary eyes, my brothers’ eyes were sharp. Following their gaze, I noticed Prince Rabadash leaning against the wall beside Queen Susan’s pew. 

When he saw me looking, he inclined his head. 

I quickly averted my eyes, trying to push the Calormen prince out of my mind. He may have been the reason for this wedding, but he would not be the center of it. 

It felt like an eternity before I reached Edmund. “I forgot to say,” he whispered as I took his hand, “you do look very nice.”

Instantly more at ease, I grinned at him as I held up my skirts to step up on the dias. As we faced my father, the king, my smile softened. Weddings were special days for fathers and daughters. For all that led up to this moment, it would still be a special day. 

“I think some part of me always knew this day would come,” my father began, looking at me with something so similar to pride, it nearly made my throat close. “King Edmund and my daughter have always had such a special bond, it seems this day was inevitable.” He placed his hands over his heart, looking over at the man holding my hand. “But to call King Edmund my son-in-law is a privilege I feel unworthy of.”

My smile slipped, and I lowered my eyes, trying to get my feelings under control before the guests could notice. 

“Putting feelings aside, this day will go down in history as the day Narnia,” my father gestured towards Edmund, “and Archenland,” and then gestured to himself, “swear loyalty to each other for many years to come.”

I reached down to grab Edmund’s hand, only to find that it was already waiting for me. He held on tight enough to keep me steady as I stared at my father. Look at me, I pleaded. Look at your daughter as she’s getting married. 

But my father’s attention was wholly claimed by the crowd. The pride emanating from him was directed at them, proving that this wedding was not a celebration, but an opportunity for my father to show off. 

Raising my eyes, I noticed that at least the lion statue’s eyes seemed to look upon me. 

“Now the groom shall take the bride’s hands.” 

I stiffly turned to face Edmund, thankful for the anchor that was having his warm hands holding mine. 

“King Edmund, your vows,” my father prompted.

Edmund looked at me, and though his face was placid, I could sense his reluctance to recite whatever pompous and overdone words my father had chosen. 

"Today, in front of these witnesses, I, King Edmund of Narnia, take you, Princess Y/N of Archenland, as my wife.” Here Edmund paused, the small muscle above the right side of his top lip twitching. “I pledge to thee my unwavering love, my unfailing sword, and my undying service from this day forth. I will be thine companion, in great wealth or want, in much joy or sorrow, until death us do part." His voice rang out clearly, and my ears caught the sound of multiple sighs from the more sentimental guests. 

Apparently, they didn’t think my father’s expectations for ‘unfailing sword’ and ‘great wealth’ were as obvious as I did. Nor would they see the way my father’s nostrils flared for a moment as our eyes met. “Princess Y/N.” He glanced at the guests. “Your vows?”

In the resulting silence, I knew those sitting amongst the chapel pews were exercising much restraint in not immediately leaning into each other and whispering. 

I squared my shoulders, meeting Edmund’s eyes, which urged me to just spit out the vows and get it over with. We’d already made the vows that mattered. My words were just part of the show, not part of my marriage. 

“Today, in front of these witnesses, I, Princess Y/N of Archenland, take you, King Edmund of Narnia, as my husband.” I took a deep breath. “With…nothing else to give but my heart, I pledge to thee my unwavering faithfulness. As the great lion binds wisdom, so do I bind my life to thee, in love and honor, until the very last of my days.”

It was humiliating. Absolutely humiliating. 

My father’s vows focused on Edmund’s ‘unfailing sword’ and ‘great wealth’, yet I had ‘nothing else to give but my heart’? And why had my father written Edmund’s vows to end when death parted us, yet mine lasted until the end of my life? 

I blinked away frustrated tears. My friends—the windows, the pews, and the statue—were not the only observers today, and I would not have my father twist my bitterness into tears of joy for all those watching. Edmund squeezed my hand, and I knew from the same twitching above his lip that he regarded my father’s words with a distaste rivaling mine. 

“Now the groom will place his ring on the bride.” Edmund slid his old signet ring on my ring finger. It felt wrong on that finger, and not just because it was too large. “And the bride shall place her ring on the groom.” Again, I could feel the astonishment of all the guests, but Edmund held out his hand, smiling at me as I slid the plain silver ring onto his finger. The sight of it there was strangely gratifying. 

“Now, with the authority vested in me by the great lion, I now pronounce you, husband and wife!” My father clapped his hands. “King Edmund, you may kiss your bride!”

I stared dumbfounded at Edmund who stared back.

Kiss.

We hadn’t talked about the kiss.

I’d forgotten. 

How could I have forgotten?

A kiss was a staple in every wedding ceremony. 

My heart tumbled into a furious pace. I’d never kissed anyone before, and the fears started flooding in. Did people’s noses bump together when they kissed? Could you taste what someone ate for breakfast? Was it possible to run out of air? Would it hurt?

No. No, this was Edmund. It couldn’t hurt…could it?

-

Edmund had no clue what to do. He’d kissed a girl back in England, but not since he’d come to Narnia. Centaurs and fauns weren’t his type. And now he had to kiss his closest and dearest friend in front of a crowd? 

He wanted this—the mark of the beginning of the rest of their lives—to be good for Y/N. Or at least not horrible. Oh Aslan, what if it was horrible? What if their marriage had a horrible start? And what if she never wanted to kiss him again? 

A quick kiss. A momentary kiss. A barely-there kiss. Something so respectful that it could barely count as a kiss. Yes, that was the way to go.

With a gulp, Edmund leaned forward. He was perhaps two moments away from touching his lips to hers when he remembered: Rabadash was somewhere in this chapel. A man who could use anything as evidence and even more as motivation.

This was another chance, just like in the garden, to show that Y/N wasn’t and would never be Rabadash’s. 

Maybe Y/N would hate him for it. But maybe she would be safer. And maybe that chance was worth it. 

Edmund’s hands found Y/N’s neck, his thumbs gently tilting her chin up as he tipped his head to the side. The intent was only for the ease of reaching her lips, of guiding her to him, but then he glimpsed a flash of her scar, bringing him straight back to the drawing room and the gardens and every other time he’d been this close to kissing her. And now he was actually doing it. His mind went blank just before his lips met heaven. 

-

The brush of our lips was tentative. I hoped with every fiber of my being that Edmund couldn’t feel my shaking, nor the great grip I had on his doublet. 

Oh, I thought as Edmund pulled away. So our noses don’t collide. 

Then he pressed his lips to mine more firmly. My anxiety skyrocketed as the guests cheered, making my limbs lock tight. Was this what it was supposed to feel like? It didn’t feel like I’d expected it to feel like. Was this a dream? Was I about to wake up and find out this whole thing had been a dream?

His grip on my face tightened ever so slightly, a great tingling starting in my stomach as my heart raced. My face and neck were so warm, I was worried they might burn Edmund’s hands, certainly his thumbs as he brushed them along my jaw. Then as his lips pulled away and returned a third time, one of his hands left my neck to cradle my back, pulling me in tighter as the skin of my back beneath his hand smoldered.

This time, when Edmund pulled back, I leaned forward, winding my arms around his neck as I relaxed into his touch, the racing thoughts slipping away. Was I floating?

-

Edmund pulled away, cursing his own weakness in such an important moment. That was not a barely-there kiss, and if Edmund wasn’t already married to Y/N, he’d certainly have to wed her after a kiss like that. 

The raucous, ear-splitting cheering of the guests meant nothing to him as he anxiously searched Y/N’s face.

Her eyes were still shut. Why were they still shut? Had he hurt her? Or made her uncomfortable? The idea of doing either made Edmund shake inside. 

But when her eyes fluttered open, she gave a small giggle, almost too quiet for him to hear amongst the noise of the guests. The tension drained away from his body as he stared at her with overpowering relief that weakened his knees.

They’d done it, they’d made it through the ceremony. 

“Everyone is invited to a wedding feast in the Great Hall!” Y/N’s father proclaimed to the crowd, who cheered louder in response, who started filing out. King Loon hastened to walk around the couple, diving into the crowd, likely to try and find the influential guests before they sat down to eat. 

“You alright?” Edmund said quietly. 

“Yeah,” Y/N said, a bit breathlessly. “Are you?”

Edmund looked down at his friend…his wife and swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

-

Hopefully the kiss wasn't cringy, lol. If you enjoyed this, go check out my masterlist for more fanfic and keep an eye out for the next installment of White Moves First!

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

White Moves First tag list:

@thelifeofsecretpenguins @read-just-cant @chesh-ire-cat @emotionallyattachedteen @cassini-among-the-stars @uncontainedsmiles @mastermasterlist1p1 @goldfishinpainttubes @silverowl102 @daisyslife

[esther-dot]

If the FF and the northerners start cooperating what’s the need for a King Beyong the Wall?

Well, the FF have a distinct, and in some ways, incompatible culture with the Northerners, I mean, Jon's thoughts are pretty harsh initially

Jon had no answer for that. Small wonder that the Seven Kingdoms thought the free folk scarcely human. They have no laws, no honor, not even simple decency. They steal endlessly from each other, breed like beasts, prefer rape to marriage, and fill the world with baseborn children. Yet he was growing fond of Tormund Giantsbane, great bag of wind and lies though he was. Longspear as well. And Ygritte . . . no, I will not think about Ygritte. (ASOS, Jon II)

so imo, it's a little unrealistic that merely being on this side of the Wall, means all is well. There's a lot of prejudice towards them too, so they'd need, I'll say, an advocate? In ADWD, Jon is already trying to explain their POV, but even post wars, I'd still think it necessary. What if a Northman's daughter runs off with a free man? And vice versa? There's potential to assume the worst about the people they've considered enemies, they may think abduction/rape, that could easily spiral. You need someone who has the respect of the FF and standing in the North to maintain the peace.

This is part of the Jon and Mance convo, and I don't think it's out of nowhere to think huh, this might be the role Jon is specifically prepared for, and I'm sure it's passages like this that contribute to @justleaves theorizing:

Open the gate and let them pass. Easy to say, but what must follow? Giants camping in the ruins of Winterfell? Cannibals in the wolfswood, chariots sweeping across the barrowlands, free folk stealing the daughters of shipwrights and silversmiths from White Harbor and fishwives off the Stony Shore? "Are you a true king?" Jon asked suddenly. "I've never had a crown on my head or sat my arse on a bloody throne, if that's what you're asking," Mance replied. "My birth is as low as a man's can get, no septon's ever smeared my head with oils, I don't own any castles, and my queen wears furs and amber, not silk and sapphires. I am my own champion, my own fool, and my own harpist. You don't become King-beyond-the-Wall because your father was. The free folk won't follow a name, and they don't care which brother was born first. They follow fighters. When I left the Shadow Tower there were five men making noises about how they might be the stuff of kings. Tormund was one, the Magnar another. The other three I slew, when they made it plain they'd sooner fight than follow." "You can kill your enemies," Jon said bluntly, "but can you rule your friends? If we let your people pass, are you strong enough to make them keep the king's peace and obey the laws?" "Whose laws? The laws of Winterfell and King's Landing?" Mance laughed. "When we want laws we'll make our own. You can keep your king's justice too, and your king's taxes. I'm offering you the horn, not our freedom. We will not kneel to you." (ASOS, Jon X)

Not only does Jon go ahead and bring them past the Wall (the thing their king wanted), they swear to him, don't kneel, but they do swear, so the spec in this post and this post about Jon being their leader, a pseudo king / Lord of the Gift, it feels like it could be the followup. So no, not King Beyond the Wall, but a leader/peacekeeper in the North.

Basically, it’s kinda a crossover of the endings people talk about for Jon, incorporates all the king foreshadowing (which truly does puzzle me now), resolves the issue of Sansa marrying/needing to carry on the Stark line...I think it's a fun angle!

[scotianostra]

William Playfair the Scottish engineer and political economist was born on September 22nd 1759.

I read one article about Playfair that describes him as "a kind of Forrest Gump of the Enlightenment" perhaps a bit harsh, I would say he was a bit of a polymath, another source in my opinion is more accurate, Playfair is without doubt to many of you out there "the most famous man you have never heard of" he rubbed shoulders with the era’s many giants, switching careers at the drop of a hat, and throwing himself headlong into history-changing events, from the storming of the Bastille to the settling of the American West.

William had a lot to live up to, his brothers were architect James Playfair and mathematician John Playfair, his father passed away when he was 13 and it was left to John to lead the family and his education.

After serving his apprenticeship with Andrew Meikle, the inventor of the threshing machine, William Playfair became draftsman and personal assistant to James Watt at the Boulton and Watt steam engine factory in Soho, Birmingham then seems to have just wander from one trade to another, the way Gump wandered through life, so you can see where the analogy comes from.

William, was, during his adult life, (takes a deep breath) a millwright, engineer, draftsman, accountant, inventor, silversmith, merchant, investment broker, economist, statistician, pamphleteer, translator, publicist, land speculator, convict, banker, ardent royalist, editor, blackmailer and journalist.

Okay they are not all jobs, but they do put you in the picture a wee bit on the character of the man I think.

Most interestingly in my opinion was his time as a spy in France during the Revolution and was on the scene during the storming of the Bastille. He even helps trigger the first major political scandal in the newly formed United States, a land speculation gone bad involving Washington, Hamilton, and Jefferson.

To go into all of this man's adventurers would take too long, instead I will just tell you that the one thing he did, that has been a part of all your lives, in one way or another, is he invented the graph. Before William invented the graph you had to read through pages of statistics to find things out, the graph, you "get it" in a glance.

In 1786, he published "The Commercial and Political Atlas" , a compendium of bar and line charts representing different European countries’ imports, exports, wages, and other trends for which he had the data handy. As the man himself explained, “Men of high rank, or active business, can only pay attention to outlines… It is hoped that, with the Assistance of these Charts, such information will be got without the fatigue and trouble of studying the particulars.” he went on “No study is less alluring or more dry and tedious than statistics, unless the mind and imagination are set to work,” in the book’s introduction.

His old boss Watt, was sent a copy of the Commercial Atlas for review, and wasn't impressed, called the book “mere plummery” and its author “a Rascal.”

To finish I must say that he was a rather humble man and actually gave credit for the invention to his brother writing, "John taught me to know that whatever can be expressed in numbers, may be represented by lines,” Playfair wrote much later, in the introduction to one of his books of diagrams. “To the best and most affectionate of brothers, I owe the invention of these Charts.”

He was never a success in his lifetime and was seen as a ditherer by Watt.

William Playfair died in 1823, in poverty and relative obscurity, banned from any good society. Slowly, over the next century or so, the supply of readily available data grew—as did the the public’s appetite for it. Bar, line and pie charts began trickling into newspapers and textbooks. Two hundred years later, as we barrel forward into the Information Age, you can’t click a link without stumbling upon some kind of data visualisation.

The next time you come across a graph, remember, like many other notable inventions in our history, take pride in that it was the work of a Scot that gave us these easy to read information "pictures".

You can find more on William Playfair here https://www.atlasobscura.com/.../the-scottish-scoundrel...

[coffeeebomb]

Tav Introduction Time

Yoinked from @slusheeduck (seriously, go check em out, Casual Banter was one of the first things I found when really getting into BG3 fanworks and it was amazing)

Zhanarya "Tav" Tavianos, Wood Half Elf, Ranger-Rogue, 38

Favorite weapon(s): Unsurprisingly, a bow. Though she's more than adept with a pair of blades when needed.

Style of combat: Mostly long-ranged combat. Depending on the situation, she’s either covering you or opening the fight. When out of arrows, she falls back to stabby ambushing. Her melee combat has vastly improved after convincing people to spar with her on the regular (mishaps be damned). Once she got comfortable with the party, they were subjected to her harebrained experimenting with the esteemed Yeet™ school of combat.

Most prized possession: Her jewelry because of their sentimental value. The sussur dagger they forged in Moonhaven/Blighted Village is a close second.

Deepest desire: To be wanted in a close-knit family.

Guilty pleasure: 'Fancy living', she's lived vicariously through her time guarding (or hunting down) wealthier folks that she's grown curious to know what it's like.

Best-kept secret(s): What she was actually jailed for. On a less serious note, it'd be figuring out which of her eyes was the fake one.

Greatest strength: Her composure. Her experiences in travelling solo and in groups have done a lot in teaching her how to deal with whatever's thrown her way (and how to keep it concealed).

Fatal flaw: Her tendency to internalise things often devolves into concluding that she can only depend on herself to fix whatever disaster she’s gotten herself into.

Favorite smell(s): The morning forest air. Or freshly baked goods from market stalls.

Favorite spell or cantrip: Misty step during combat, 'speak to animals' in other occasions.

Pet peeve(s): Bird puns (made even worse after Halsin drew the connection between her and a shrike), slow walking, when people touch her “organised chaos”.

Bad habit: Hoarding tendencies, her lockpicks can be found just about everywhere and on everyone in camp. This isn’t helped by her sticky fingers either.

Hidden talent: Jewelry making. Picked it up when she was apprenticing with a fletcher (who was married to a silversmith).

Leisure activity: Perching/lounging in high spots.

Favorite drink: Spiced tea (if didn’t need copious amounts of caffeine).

Comfort food: Steamed buns.

Favorite person: Usually it depends on what she’s up to. Platonically, she's closest to Wyll, who was a brother-figure, source of moral guidance and indulger of “fancy bullshit” (which was universally accepted to be less destructive than her theory crafting sessions with Gale) all rolled into one. His deal with Mizora was the first time she realized she wanted to get involved with this band of lunatics and not book it the moment she was tadpole-free. Romantically, it’s Astarion, although it was a long process of getting their shit together and figuring out what they wanted that didn’t involve threats of maiming, emotional constipation and roundabout banter. Chaos and roguish mischief are guaranteed when they’re both on the same page, something everyone has learnt the hard way.

Favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic): Quality time (she’s more than accustomed to hanging around in one spot for hours on end) and/or acts of service (which could be either a little favour or death by a dozen arrows). Though people were quick to catch on that if there are items involved there were most often stolen goods.

Fondest childhood memory: camping/hunting trips with her adopted parents.

Tagging anybody interested to try this out, now go.

[fideidefenswhore]

Anne conceived again early in 1534. Henry excitedly ordered a new cradle from Master Cornelius Hayes, his jeweller and silversmith, but by July the Queen miscarried. This meant the only legitimate male heir in line of succession to the English throne that summer was James V, for in March 1534 Charles Brandon lost his only son, Henry, Earl of Lincoln, who died nine months after his mother's funeral. In 1532 James had issued an ultimatum that if his uncle did not stop befriending the Earl of Angus, he would be prepared to go to war with England. Margaret had offered to mediate between her son and brother. She was certainly influential in bringing about the Treaty of Berwick, which was signed on 12 May 1534. Both sovereigns promised to observe peace between England and Scotland for as long as they lived. James also formally recognized Henry's marriage to Anne Boleyn.

The Sisters of Henry VIII, Maria Perry

[noamuth]

Thinking about how Karlach calls tav "soldier" and Dal would NOT want to be called a soldier. He's not a soldier. His brother Orgoll was a soldier. He was a brute. Dalamus is barely a fighter. He's a silversmith, a jeweler. He asks her to stop calling him "soldier".

And in response to his grump she's like "Alright, Sunshine."

and that's (probably) how it happened

[intotheclash]

Klee Benally -Going in Circles | Appropriation | 360° Music Video

Una settimana fa è morto Klee Benally, navajo, avvocato in difesa dei diritti dei Nativi Americani e grande musicista.

Klee Benally, Navajo environmental and tribal sovereignty activist, died Dec. 30 in a Phoenix hospital, according to the Associated Press. His family did not disclose the cause of death.

Benally, 48, was an environmental and social activist as well as an acclaimed artist. He was a talented silversmith and a founder of the award-winning Indigenous punk rock group Blackfire along with his sister Jeneda and brother Clayson. The group, rooted in both Navajo traditional music and punk rock, railed against cultural, environmental and social injustice. He moved on to become one of Indian Country's strongest advocates for preserving sacred spaces, cleaning up abandoned mines, supporting Indigenous peoples' rights and reclaiming the Earth's health.

[italwayshadtobeyou]

One of the oddest absences in later seasons is that of MOTW species that made for solid cases in the pre-angel years. Why no tulpas? Sirens? Even ghosts, whose human origins offer an infinite variety of understandable personalities and backstories, become pretty rare.

Then there's the baffling fact that they created a second wendigo, this time in roughly the right geographical region, but called it a "kohonta" and had it be vulnerable to silver rather than fire-- which makes even less sense for lore derived from a culture without silversmiths. What would be wrong with just having the brothers hunt another wendigo?

[danceofwhispers]

Dear Ser Falcon. Not often do we hear from you personally...who do you consider the biggest threat in each court up and down the continent?

"Oh, are we opening this door? Wonderful. I enjoy this conversation. Let us start with North. Nasir Manderly or Brandon Karstark. In one sweeping motion they've become two of the most powerful lords in the realm of the North and perhaps throughout the continent. They say the silversmiths of White Harbour liver as good, if not better, than smiths of steel. Karstark mans some of the harshest lands with the King ear. We've heard the tales of the stupidity in the wolf king. They might be too loyal and too stupid to dream of success."

@nasirofmanderlys @wintervsuns @owenstark

"Now the Arryn's, my overlords. My queen and her kingslaying husband. Their giant idiot of a commander and the suspiciously place bastard. It is the King who is dangerous here. We see not what he is capable of, only the aftermath of his actions. Mayhap the true danger is our true heir, Jasper Arryn."

@ravellaarryns @rememberences @mountainvroyce @domericstone @gcuienveres

"Casimir Tully will burn the riverlands down or he would if anything stayed dry long enough. In truth, Mallister and Mooton will take control of his king and he won't realize it until Lord Blackwood stops encouraging his presence at council meetings."

@casimirtully @zakariyamallisters @qorbanmooton

(TW; INCEST MENTION) "Who threatens the lion? His court is made up of sycophants and relatives. Much like the dragon, only the lion can kill the lion. Unless his brother and sister diddling aye? Then perhaps they will kill the lion. Suppose still lioncide"

@casterlygldcs @gcuienveres @arronlannister

"The King of thorns has either learned from history and keeps the Hightower close because it's better to have a family historic their treason close by should you need to strike off a few heads or he will die in his sleep and war will once again tear apart the reach. The boring thing about the reach is those fuckers lover each other and love....oh the things we do for love. For example, I married well below my status though my daughters have done well. Were I a Hightower I could be a cripple and get dangled before those will kings blood. That fucker. The King too. Fuck em both." (drunk rambles crossed out then uses paint to cover the words.)

@visxionaries @garlandhightower

(TW; INCEST MENTION) "The dragons! Obviously, Jaehaerys will kill them all. Burn the lot of 'em. Valyrian scum, aye. Sister fuckers they are. Can't be rid of the taint of sister fucking. That baby don't look Dornish, I bet it'll look Targaryen enough." (Decides again crossing out drunken rambles)

@caetargaryen @jaehaeraxtargaryen @garrick-cargyll @daeron-dondarrion @deimos-velaryon @ellievswann @sunglxss @evenfallsbrightest @vhaenessavelaryon @burneddragon

"And dorne. I love ye dorne. I've got a post for ye lads, i do. Tak' yer bides, laddies. Put it on the table. Me thinks the boy found his baws, ya? Aye. Comin' for you Martell. Comin'." (Decides again crossing out drunken rambles)

@morsmartelll

[layalu]

Hi! I saw your tags in that silversmithing post & if it makes you feel better, my brother has been slowly learning to build guitars from youtube videos for the past 10 years. He's built some absolutely beautiful stuff. Anyway just last week he got hired by a company that builds high end guitars for prestige brands! Totally self taught and now he's in the highest end manufacturing. His first job in the business too. So if you want to do it, believe you can find a way. It might take a while and you might just do it on the side for ages but doing things you enjoy will never not pay off.

Heya! First off that's awesome, love that for your brother! :)

And yea i absolutely agree! That's why i said i'd still love to learn it at some point :> There are so many cool crafts that aren't exactly an option right now bc it requires space and materials and tools that i don't have access to or the means to acquire atm, but that i am keeping an eye out for opportunities to try them out

[the-starry-seas]

I got to thinking about the strawberries again so I did picrews of most of their kids! Salwa and Bahij aren't pictured because there's not any Tusken picrews (though perhaps... someday...)

Jules, human, 13. Paz was Jules' godfather since Jules was a baby. When the covert was attacked on Nevarro, Jules' buir was wounded while fighting at Paz's side. Their dying words were used to make Paz promise to raise him. When Paz and Fury start dating, Jules was the very centre of Paz's life, and Fury never had any problem with that. His blue hair was done to match Paz's armour. He decided to follow a less restrictive branch of Mandalorian culture so he could remove his helmet. The entire Fett side of the family was surprised at how much he looked like young Jango - got some strong Concord Dawn genes! He's fearless, outspoken, and constantly finding trouble, much to his parents' amusement and/or exasperation.

Neva, Togruta, 6. Neva was meant to be a temporary foster, a couple months after Paz and Fury got married, but Paz could tell almost immediately that Fury didn't want to give her up and arranged for the adoption to be permanent. When she was first adopted, she and Fury were inseperable. She's still a little clingy and loves when Fury carries her around, and he's happy to oblige. She gets away with everything and is well aware that Fury is a total pushover. When she grows up she's going to be a pirate and veterinarian (try telling her that's not a thing and Fury will glare at you until you encourage her).

Six months after getting married, Paz and Fury started dating one of Boba's Tusken friends, U'Rajya. A year after that, they adopted Salwa and Bahij. Salwa was seventeen and her younger brother Bahij was twelve. Salwa is a poet who falls in love with everyone (not an easy task with three nosy buire) and can identify any bird on Tatooine at a glance. Bahij has ambitions to be a farmer but is also consistently 👀 at the beadworking studios in the Needles.

Ruiha, Zabrak, 11. A few months after Salwa and Bahij were adopted, the strawberries fostered Ruiha. Her mother had unexpectedly died from illness, and attempts were being made to find her cousins in the next system. In the time it took to do that, they all got attached to each other and Fury asked if they could adopt her. Paz took over her verd'goten training and she likes getting the drop on him to prove her training is a success. She's generally bold and outspoken but has moments of anxiety that can make her unexpectedly shy. Her eyes are dark emerald green.

Daljair, human, 16. When he swore the Creed as a teenager, Fury volunteered to adopt him, oversee his verd'goten and help him adjust to Mandalorian culture. He wasn't all too sure about them at first, but he quickly warmed up to the family. Sometimes they're a little too chaotic for his tates, but he loves how much they love each other. He dyed his locs pink to match Fury's armour. Initially he was frantic to prove himself as the best possible son, being an orphaned outsider with nowhere else to go, but his family's loyalty calmed his fears and gave him the confidence to make mistakes. He was intrigued by the Tusken jewellery that U'Rajya wore, and they arranged for him to have an apprenticeship with their clan's silversmith to see if it's the right career path for him. He's in regular contact with Cam and his family and visits them for a week every month.

Ragnar, human, 13. Ragnar was thought to have been killed in the last battle on Nevarro. Though wounded, he survived without permanent injury, and was adopted by the Mandalorians who got him offplanet. He was certain that Paz knew he was alive and was looking for him. Ultimately both those things turned out to be untrue, but he didn't hold that against his buir. They bumped into each other by mistake in the marketplace, and Paz had a hard time letting Ragnar out of his sight for weeks afterward.

[thebowynntradition]

Bowynn Gods: Gondor

Last Image: Kalen and Gondor standing together.

Gondor  (Ghon-door)  Gondor is the Bowynn god of smith crafting, fire and patron god to blacksmiths, goldsmiths and silversmiths. (Metal smiths in general) Particularly, he is the god of blacksmithing; Iron-forging.

     Gondor is the son of Phoenix and Sumon and the brother of Kalen, god of architecture. When it comes to all metal craft, Gondor is the master. But unlike other pantheons, his talents are not limited to just weapons and armor. Gondor makes all the feast ware and cooking utensils of Alaway. He was challenged at a young age to make a pot big enough for the goddess Io to cook all the daily meals of the gods of Alaway. Of course this was impossible. So instead, he forge-crafted a magickal cauldron that would never run out of food till each god had two helpings. Gondor was also commissions but Anhur, king of the gods to craft all of the weapons and armor of the gods. When the first tribes of mankind founded their homes in Europe, Gondor spent seven days with mankind teaching them the arts of smith-crafting. Not only to make weapons to hunt but farm tools.

     Gondor’s home and forge is not in Alaway but instead deep in the woods; A large home where he shares with his wife, brother, and his brother's wife. It was there where Gondor forged the great Seven Swords of the Wildwood, to give to mankind. Sadly, the first kings used them to start war and Gondor took them away and hid them till mankind was ready to find them again.

     Gondor is a fully mature god. Unlike other smithy gods, of other pantheons, Gondor is most handsome with wondrous long hair and strong in stature.  He is rarely seen with a shirt or tunic on. Instead, he wears a leather apron or is bare-chested. A circlet about his head keeps his hair back as he works, and a pair of leather gauntlets protects his hands. Sacred to Gondor are the tools he uses; hammers, forge and tongs. Also, all metal work and charcoal. Bunches of nails are a common gift to Gondor. When Gondor is around humans, he often takes the form of a dog, which is his sacred totem.

The House of Gondor Tablet. Gondor stands in the center of the second row on top of the platform with his brother Kalen and the goddesses Panu and Vella. Around him are his helpers and gods waiting for wares to be made.

[scotianostra]

William Playfair the Scottish engineer and political economist was born on September 22nd 1759.

In a day where anniversaries are thin on the ground, thank god for William Henry Playfair.

I read one article about Playfair that describes him as "a kind of Forrest Gump of the Enlightenment" perhaps a bit harsh, I would say he was a bit of a polymath, another source in my opinion is more accurate, Playfair is without doubt to many of you out there "the most famous man you have never heard of" he rubbed shoulders with the era’s many giants, switching careers at the drop of a hat, and throwing himself headlong into history-changing events, from the storming of the Bastille to the settling of the American West.

William had a lot to live up to, his brothers were architect James Playfair and mathematician John Playfair, his father passed away when he was 13 and it was left to John to lead the family. After serving his apprenticeship with Andrew Meikle, the inventor of the threshing machine, Playfair became draftsman and personal assistant to James Watt at the Boulton and Watt steam engine factory in Soho, Birmingham then seems to have just wander from one trade to another, the way Gump wandered through life, so you can see where the analogy comes from.

William Playfair, was, during his adult life, (takes a deep breath) a millwright, engineer, draftsman, accountant, inventor, silversmith, merchant, investment broker, economist, statistician, pamphleteer, translator, publicist, land speculator, convict, banker, ardent royalist, editor, blackmailer and journalist. Okay they are not all jobs, but they do put you in the picture a wee bit on the character of the man I think.

Most interestingly in my opinion was his time as a spy in France during the Revolution and was on the scene during the storming of the Bastille. He even helps trigger the first major political scandal in the newly formed United States, a land speculation gone bad involving Washington, Hamilton, and Jefferson.

To go into all of this man's adventurers would take too long, instead I will just tell you that the one thing he did, that has been a part of all your lives, in one way or another, is he invented the graph. Before William invented the graph you had to read through pages of statistics to find things out, the graph, you "get it" in a glance. In 1786, he published The Commercial and Political Atlas, a compendium of bar and line charts representing different European countries’ imports, exports, wages, and other trends for which he had the data handy. As the man himself explained, “Men of high rank, or active business, can only pay attention to outlines… It is hoped that, with the Assistance of these Charts, such information will be got without the fatigue and trouble of studying the particulars.” he went on “No study is less alluring or more dry and tedious than statistics, unless the mind and imagination are set to work,” in the book’s introduction.

His old boss Watt, was sent a copy of the Commercial Atlas for review, and wasn't impressed, called the book “mere plummery” and its author “a Rascal.”

To finish I must say that he was a rather humble man and actually gave credit for the invention to his brother writing, “[John] taught me to know that whatever can be expressed in numbers, may be represented by lines,” Playfair wrote much later, in the introduction to one of his books of diagrams. “To the best and most affectionate of brothers, I owe the invention of [these] Charts.” He was never a success in his lifetime and was seen as a ditherer by Watt, William Playfair died in 1823, in poverty and relative obscurity, banned from any good society.

Slowly, over the next century or so, the supply of readily available data grew—as did the the public’s appetite for it. Bar, line and pie charts began trickling into newspapers and textbooks. Two hundred years later, as we barrel forward into the Information Age, you can’t click a link without stumbling upon some kind of data visualization. The next time you come across a graph, remember, like many other notable inventions in our history, take pride in that it was the work of a Scot that gave us these easy to read information "pictures".

[thenewdeadseascrolls]

Judges 17: 1-4. "The Silversmith."

We transition from that horrible story about Samson and Delilah and visit the next aisle in the department store frequented by persons interested in the Jewish Self called Micah.

Micah means "my brother's juice." This is why we say "Juice is better."

One person alone is incapable of making a juice. The process of farming enough produce to make a glass of juice requires a significant amount of time, money, equipment, and manpower. Even a glass of water these days is not an easy thing.

NOW the Torah says the same is nearly true for the juicing of a man's mind of all of his impurities in the wine press is as exhaustive. The process results in 200 Shekels worth of Wine, or one complete Jewish Soul. God brings 100 Shekels, we bring the other.

While this is true, without a solid silver idol, no one knows what this even means. So here we see a nice Jewish boy is really the product of the worship of a silver statue made by one's mother in the image of a proper Jewish man. Without this representation, there is no way to get a proper glass of juice out of the Jewish Community.

The Shoftim says we are cursed by God to need our Jewish Mom for such a standard but without it, the very concept of the Jew does not exist:

Micah’s Idols

17 Now a man named Micah from the hill country of Ephraim 2 said to his mother, “The eleven hundred shekels[a] of silver that were taken from you and about which I heard you utter a curse—I have that silver with me; I took it.”

Then his mother said, “The Lord bless you, my son!”

3 When he returned the eleven hundred shekels of silver to his mother, she said, “I solemnly consecrate my silver to the Lord for my son to make an image overlaid with silver. I will give it back to you.”

4 So after he returned the silver to his mother, she took two hundred shekels[b] of silver and gave them to a silversmith, who used them to make the idol. And it was put in Micah’s house.

The text mentions Mom visits a "silversmith" which is 1141, "a white lion" or יא‎דא‎, yada, which means it is mom's job to guide a Jewish man in the proper way to sex other persons who will wear well on him. She is the embodiment of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, she is supposed be like God Himself, warning her sons and daughters how to negotiate the rigors of the Snake. The Silver Idol represents her earnest wish, but pray tell, no one will listen to her:

"The Hebrew verb ידע (yada') means to know. This very important root occurs 944 times in the Old Testament and is found across the Semitic language spectrum. Its Greek counterpart is γινωσκω (ginosko).

This verb is used in all the expected ways, but most notably in Proverbs 1:7, where it reads: "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge". Since knowledge is typically obtained through the senses, the mere act of observation appears to be equal with fearing God.

Another notable usage of our verb is in the procreative sense: when a man "knows" a woman, he's having sex with her (Genesis 4:1, Judges 11:39), and this says quite a bit about how the Hebrews saw marriage and the process of learning. The Word of God was of course personified, and so learning about the laws of nature was deemed equal to being in a marriage relationship with the Creator.

Our verb may also describe knowledge that is not so much cognitive but rather empirical or experiential. Ecclesiastes 8:5 states that 'he who keeps the commandment will know no evil', which refers to the experience of bad things rather than a cognitive examination of vice. In that same vein, the dire consequences of eating from the 'tree of knowledge of good and evil' obviously does not refer to the dangers of learning or scientific rebellion (learning and science are held in the highest possible regard in the Bible) but rather the notion that chomping off the wrong branch is going to make bad things happen to you."

Accept no evil is Mom's advice.

The opening of this section has Four Directions. The Values in Gematria are:

v. 1: Now a man named Micah from the hill country of Ephraim 2 said to his mother, "I heard you utter a curse—I have that silver with me; I took it.”

The Curse was placed on Eve in Eden. Her children will always have to depend on their mothers in order to understand mate selection and reproduction. Hill countries are places of transition in life. Puberty is the first big hill. The Torah says the mother must be heavily involved at this point in a Jewish person's life or mishap can occur.

The Number is 11872, יא‎חזב‎‎ ‎‎, "hold on yahzeb, you will be placed."

Every Jew has a place in the world to come. This is the point of the study of the Shoftim, to know God's plan in no way excludes the Jew.

v. 2: Then his mother said, “The Lord bless you, my son!”

The Number is 2371, ב‎ג‎זא‎‎, "in Gaza."

Obviously Gaza was a different place when this was written. Gaza must be purged of the Mormons and Hamas and returned to the Jewish people at once.

As for its pertinence to the Shoftim, the text states one's parents cannot shame a young person who is entering puberty or place unreasonable expectations upon the person.

"The verb עזז ('azaz) means to be strong. Adjective עז ('az) means strong, mighty or fierce and adjective עזוז ('izzuz) means mighty or powerful. Nouns עז ('oz) and עזוז ('ezuz) mean strength, might or fierceness.

Noun עזניה ('ozniya) denotes some kind of bird of prey (this word may actually be a convenient import from another language) and noun עז ('ez) denotes a she-goat (this word may actually derive from a verb that means to be wayward or perhaps strong-headed).

Verb עוז ('uz) means to bring into refuge or to seek safety. Noun מעוז (ma'oz) describes a place or agent of safety."

Telling adolescents not to masturbate or engage in intercourse is not reasonable. There are intelligent ways to explain how this should happen and avoid unpleasant situations.

All Jewish persons are expected to relate to human sexuality with sophistication, a sense of humor and an open mind. Sexual literacy is a hallmark of a proper member of a cosmopolitan culture and is legislated by God for all Jews.

v. 3: When he returned the eleven hundred shekels of silver to his mother, she said, “I solemnly consecrate my silver to the Lord for my son to make an image overlaid with silver. I will give it back to you.” image overlaid with silver. I will give it back to you.”

Eleven hundred shekels=2304, בגאֶפֶסד‎ ‎, in gafessed, "there is no loss". There is no loss in allowing one's children to undergo "overlaying" AKA insemination. See my comments above.

One of the biggest targets Jews have painted on their backs is their fear of sex. The Torah Shoftim say there is no need for Jewish people to be afraid of being sexy. In fact, the angels say its perfectly all right to be fully secure about it:

The Number is 13655, יגו‎‎ה‎ה‎, igoha, securitization.

Securitization is the process in which certain types of assets are pooled so that they can be repackaged into interest-bearing securities. The interest and principal payments from the assets are passed through to the purchasers of the securities.

The Torah lists all the dos and don'ts for having sex. How these relate to proper mate selection and the process of grooming in order to compete in the meat market is cultural and falls upon the parents, who depend on approval form the community. The number of dependecies are many, but they are necessary if the Jewish people are to grow in number and Numbers and lead in the onset of Mashiach.

v. 4: So after he returned the silver to his mother, she took two hundred shekels[b] of silver and gave them to a silversmith, who used them to make the idol. And it was put in Micah’s house.

= the Mother arranged a marriage.

The Number is 11243, יאבדג‎‎‎, yavdag "to lose the son to someone who will take care of him."

The process of securitization through the minting of silver refers to our ongoing effort to build a Jewish Empire. The process, just like readint the Torah and Tanakh and finally attaining to Shabbat, Ha Shem and the Jewish Identity itself is painstaking but must be done from the ground up, from birth, if we are to make a civilization capable of sustaining the Mashiach, AKA "the brotherhood of the Juice."

As with all conventional definitions of Empire or Commonwealth the objective is not wealth, power, or influence but the caretaking of mankind through Constitution and caretaking. Like other marriages between men and women the results are not achieved unless they are legally binding. The sentiment is important but without arrangements for the actual contract, a true Jewish Commonwealth will not take shape.

And speaking of taking care, Mormon interlopers on the West Bank nearly destroyed every yellow thistle plant sacred to the Crown Prince of Israel. Every last member of their faith has to disappear as recompense for this sacrilege.

[kylalal]

Post 5.

Aladdin by Paulo Lemos Horta

Aladdin is a unmotivated boy who doesn't seem to have a purpose up until he has met his uncle magician. This magician takes him out and helps him find his purpose and to create a life for Aladdin. After the magician has gotten Aladdin's trust, he casted a spell to instruct him to enter a vault that was hidden to get the treasure of a magic lamp. This was all a scheme to have a clueless boy, like Aladdin, to bring him a lamp, acting as his passed father's brother. After three days of being stuck in the vault without food and water, Aladdin was able to return to his mother. He was only able to do this upon asking a jinni, who appeared from a ring that the magician gave him, to get him out of the vault. Prior to Aladdin selling the magic lamp for money to live off of, his mother was trying to clean the lamp and appears a jinnin from the lamp. Similar to the jinni that appeared from the magician's ring, the jinni from the lamp granted them multiple feasts. From these feasts, Aladdin would sell the silver plates to merchants and eventually to a silversmith.

Princess Badr al-Budur, who is the sultan's daughter, attracted Aladdin's eyes when strolling through the city. Aladdin admitted to his mother that he has fell in love with her and he begged her to devote herself to the sultan for his daughter. Aladdin's mother was in denial about it until Aladdin brought out the bright and valuable gems he got from the vault to bring to the sultan. After some time, Aladdin's mother was able to reach the sultan to gift the gems to him for his daughter. Aladdin's mother was shocked when the sultan accepted the gems for the Princess, but there was a competition with Aladdin with the grand vizier's son. Aladdin was going to marry in three months, but after two months, the grand vizier's son was going to marry the Princess. For multiple nights, Aladdin had asked the jinni to put him in place of the grand vizier's son's place in bed with Princess Badr during the night time to try to take revenge. Aladdin had been taking advantage of the jinni in the lamp and was able to marry Princess Badr with the riches he had asked the jinni to grant him. He had used the lamp to build him an extravagant palace, to feed them food, provide him clothes, and also to finish up the sultan's window in his palace.

With the magician still on the hunt for the magic lamp and for Aladdin, he stole the magic lamp by tricking Aladdin's wife and maids to exchanging the old looking lamp for a new one. With that, the magician ordered the jinni to take his palace and Princess to another part of the world. Aladdin is on the sultan's death list and he went to find his Princess. After finding the magician, his palace, and the princess, he instructed his princess to poison the magician. After some time, they were able to live their life up until the magician's little brother came in to disguise himself as Fatima, one of the respected religious women, to avenge his brother. Aladdin realized what the truth was with the magician's brother and eventually saved himself and his wife again from dangers.