My baby Orin

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
almost home
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
tumblr dot com
hello vonnie

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blake kathryn

Game Changer & Make Some Noise

ellievsbear
YOU ARE THE REASON
The Stonewall Inn
Cosmic Funnies
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Discoholic 🪩
todays bird
One Nice Bug Per Day

gracie abrams
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Today's Document
Fai_Ryy

seen from Malaysia

seen from Netherlands
seen from Syria
seen from Italy
seen from Mexico

seen from South Africa
seen from Türkiye
seen from Morocco
seen from Seychelles
seen from Colombia
seen from Ecuador
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Iraq
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia
@pacteternal
My baby Orin
My baby Orin
WIP I might never finish
love the dead three’s constantly recurring group projects despite their inability to get anything done ever due to their wildly disparate goals because like. where are we going with this
lae’zel i drew with HIMI paint and a sakura brush pen!
my peepaw
Man's developed a new type since Melodia's passing
here's another edit, this time with my favorite old man
“the feminine urge” “the masculine urge” shut the fuck up im getting the murderous urge
let me motorboat halsin @ larian
here's another edit, this time with my favorite old man
Lae'zel - loved painting her so much!
Orin the Red
am i posting a new bg3 fic literally days after the last one?? well I finished act 2 and this story grabbed me by the throat so yes, yes i am. the brainrot is REAL 🤡
title: deus proditus characters: Ketheric Thorm, Dame Aylin rating: General words: 1,782 tags: Act 2 Spoilers, Character Study, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Canon, Villain PoV, Suicidal Thoughts, Hateful relationship, faith vs atheism, family drama (understatement)
summary:
The lightest of sighs sounded on his left. Ketheric suddenly remembered that he had company, here in this most private of places. The aasimar—Aylin, his mind spat, and would that we had never met her at all—stood tall and proud, silver-bright and gleaming. She clearly felt no shame at the intrusion, assuming with all her usual arrogance that she had a right to be here. Her divine features were unreal in their perfection, her expression as regal and remote as the tallest mountain’s coldest peak. A lone, pristine tear made its way down her cheek, the only proof of tarnishing grief.
—
In the aftermath of Isobel’s death, Ketheric and Aylin draw their claws on each other.
Read on ao3!
Moon Lesbians!!
Tip Jar
Baldur's Gate 3 (2023)
finally first bg3 fanart (real)