feintone

[feintone]

Morrigan: When crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, it’s “intelligent” and “really cool” but when I do it I’m “petty” and “need to move on.”

[feintone]

Cole: A month ago, I had no dads. Then I had one dad. Now I have two dads, and one of them is Fen'Harel! Solas (with Varric next to him): Yeah! Cole: It’s raining dads…

[feintone]

“I’ll DM you,” I said.

You sit patiently, expecting a private message at any moment. There’s a knock at your door. It’s me, dressed in a surprisingly well made wizard robe, arms full of books and dice.

“Roll for initiative.” I utter.

[feintone]

So, D&D feels here but you know, paladins aren’t rare in the way most people seem to think of them. It is not inborn talent, so much, sometimes, especially in the case of the paladin. With the new 5th edition especially, it’s made even more explicit that they do not always dedicate themselves to gods, but rather to ideals. And maybe it means nothing to cynics, but, hey.

There are two ways to right a wrong. Punish the evildoer, or do kindness for the unfortunate in equal measure. First option’s easier, probably should be taken before moving on to the second one, but the second option’s worth doing.

A paladin isn’t always clad in shining white armor on an impressive, majestic steed, lance in hand as he races towards a descending dragon.

Sometimes a paladin is a dark, skinny-armed girl who grew up in the slums who should know nothing but survival, clawing for every piece of bread she can see, standing defiantly over the body of a fallen beggar, between him and the disdainful guardsman who was ready to beat him to death over a few allegedly stolen bread. 

Sometimes a paladin is a grizzled old man whose knees are going on bad on him, who walks everyday to the unmarked graves of prostitutes and the nobodies who die in droves and water the flowers he’s planted on them, telling them stories like they are old friends.

Sometimes a paladin is a cook in the temple’s kitchen, who watches the priests feast on good food while others starve. Who purses her lips and shoves every scrap of food leftover for the day into baskets, which she then passes out in the slums with staunch faith that one day things will change. She might lack the power and the authority to turn the corrupt temple on its head, but someone else will, and until that day she knows she’s in the position to ease some pain from the despondent and she will fucking keep doing that until they kill her for it. Because she believes. Because she makes a choice to stay, to risk her living. Because she says, “This is not right” and takes action to remedy it, no matter how temporary or how small.

[feintone]

Got lazy and couldn’t finish but heres Papa Shiro

[feintone]

by 杨 张

[feintone]

Fighting Giant Tentacles by Kashivan

[feintone]

Delirium by MarioWibisono

[feintone]

Applibot Illustration by Alexnegrea

[feintone]

commissioned by @sangoireseussian !

this took longer than expected, thank you so much for your patience!

[feintone]

Tsuruchi Kosoko by MarioWibisono

[feintone]

[feintone]

[feintone]

junk

[feintone]

Howls of Silence - Luis Royo

[feintone]

Armor Girl1 by alexson1

[feintone]

Commission: Jilette Sawblaster by artlon