Magnificent gold and enamel plique-à-jour pendant/brooch designed as a “Morning Glory”. It was once part of the collection of Ada Rehan, a popular actress of the late 19th century who starred in several Shakespearean plays.
Work signed Marcus & Co around 1900. Via The Newark Museum of Art collection
im a slut for post magic reveal arthur (& knights) thinking merlin has like. a smidge of magic. like he can get stains out of clothes or warm food and baths but OBVIOUSLY merlin can’t fight. that’s ridiculous. merlin doesn’t correct this notion for whatever reason - perhaps it’s best that people think that so when they’re all in danger, he isn’t registered as a threat so he can protect his silly lil guys. ofc his silly lil guys realize that they were wrong bc the bad guys get a lil too close to hurting arthur and merlin is like “nope! fights over!!” and annihilates them
Reborn in Baldur's Gate 3 With No Memory and Plenty of Gold
You’ve been reincarnated. It’s the realization you come to when the tiefling offering you a health potion introduces himself as Tav. You died and your soul revived in Baldur's Gate 3, at the beginning of the game no less. But you only have the memories of your past life on Earth, and none of your current one.
Tav invites you to join him on his journey, despite your lack of abilities or maybe because of it. You might as well go along with it; where else would you go with no memory of who you currently are, or knowledge of anything that lies outside of the narrative?
There will be challenges, of course, challenges beyond the tadpole in your head and the journey to Baldur's Gate. Like that strange feeling of a phantom limb that reaches from the back of your head, the suspicions from the other companions that you’re not telling them everything when you say you’ve lost your memories, and the fact that everything you have on you indicates that you’re extremely wealthy in this life.
Yes, there is much to discover about your life in Baldur's Gate, and what transpires relies on the tiefling leading your group as Tav.
A/N: I love Gale and Astarion so expect the story to be with them quite a bit—I’m going to try to include all companions though! I’d also like to note that I haven’t actually finished the game myself, and only just finished the part with Cazador.
Gender neutral and avoiding descriptions as much as possible for the reader character. It’s a light story, not gonna have much angst but maybe some mutual pining 👀
Apparently I'm using my button-maker to pay homage to my favorite '90s films one by one. First was Empire Records, and now—I've made Velvet Goldmine pins. Each one is 1.25" and contains glitter. You can get them for $2 a pop or $5 for the whole set of three. Available now at ko-fi.com/rustbeltjessie/shop.
Pin update from me and @xannerz- here's the most recent picture from our manufacturer!! We're finalizing a couple more potential details, but otherwise we're very happy with this and it's been exciting. 💖✨
Leo Valdez was not born. Instead, two pairs of hands form him from bronze and steel and gold. His hair is copper wires so thin they bounce like natural curls, and his eyes glimmer with silver flakes. The joints of his body are plated so delicately, so perfectly, the segments are near indiscernible, smoothly gliding over each other. Faint traces of fingerprints and flecks of impurity are deliberately left behind for their uniqueness, a form of impossible signature of his creators.
Most importantly, gilded bars curl around each other in his chest, protecting the red-red-red flame that pushes his eyes open everyday, that beats in tune with his thoughts, that heats his body to expand and grow.
A metal child is not so different from a human one, and yet is so far from it at the same time. He is curious, about the world, about himself, and he picks apart toys and TV remotes and his arms, spilling their secrets before his constantly shifting eyes. He does not cry from fatigue or thirst or hunger, but a bump, a dent, a scratch never fail to draw tears. He splashes in the rain and snow, carefully bundled in waterproof coats and jackets, and runs from baths like he's possessed, fire flickering in fear.
The first time he meets someone like him, an endeavour he had long thought hopeless, it is a malfunctioning dragon others call for the death of; he is too unpredictable, too dangerous, too broken. Leo looks him in ever-shifting eyes glimmering with silver and sees himself if the cage in his chest ever bends, cracks, shatters, if the gears beneath his skin ever jam and stick and wear down irreversibly.
It is not golden flowers and godly aid that preserve him; just as he'd done for his twin-in-all-but-appearance, he creates a new body, with new fingerprints and impurities mapping his design. His hair is more bronze than copper, now, and his eyes more gold than brass. The plates of his joints scrape against each other faintly, and the gears of his bones grind together uncomfortably — he only had so much time, so much material to use, he could not polish every element of himself in the way he wished, but it holds together.
Most importantly, he reinforces the cage in his chest, coats it in layers upon layers of metal, to ensure his flame will not go out in the explosion, that Festus will be able to salvage it and lay it gently in the chest cavity carefully carved in his new body, bringing it to life.
He returns to Camp, movements more clunky and mechanical than should be, and his siblings finally pin down his segmented limbs, his shifting eyes, his clicking fidgeting. They are ecstatic, just as fascinated with him as they had been with Festus, and he lets them. He lets them take him apart, piece by piece, clean out the sand of Ogygia from his organs, polish and oil his gears until they glide against each other, press new fingerprints, new signatures of belonging, against his skin.
Most importantly, they craft him a secure, intricate cage, with golden flames licking up the bars, with delicate chains shielding it from the elements, and his flame settles inside it, flickering happily, finally truly, truly comfortable in the cage of his body.
Leo Valdez may not have been born, but he was crafted with the most loving hands imaginable, and is that not so much better, for a son of the Craftsman?