*ding*

I hate to ask for help on social media but I really need it! I've been plauged with panic attacks over this for weeks. I'm hoping to at least cover my $200 rent. I don't expect donations so I'm offering these emergency commissions.

The Lion lost his courage

And The Scarecrow....

Winter Schnee as the Winter Maiden in The Final Word

Playable Race: the Grimalkin!

(Link to PDF in source.)

Comes with:

4 subraces

6 racial feats

class modifications and suggestions

tasty lore

because in his head he is already turning it into a story. in his head it is already over, and he is looking down at the end of it, from the outside, the victor. in his head he's already in abstracted mourning, mourning over how he devoted so much effort and time and--yes, even sentiment--to one person only for her to fail him like this, that he has to sacrifice even this, even her, to be a hero, that he will be alone in the end, and what a tragedy.

Winter Schnee sheds no tears at all. for her there is only the present, and--she is alone. (she has never not been alone.) she is alone, and she is in danger, and everything she loves is in danger, and so.

weiss lost her best friend, one of the first people who never gave up on her despite her cold exterior and broke down her walls and found the girl underneath, who just wanted a real family, a family that yang was a part of.

blake lost the love of her life, her partner and the person who helped her overcome her biggest demon and find herself again, learn what loving and caring for another person and getting that in return is like.

Blake is racing towards the edge of the road before a scream has even torn its way out of her throat and through her teeth. Yang hits the ground, hard, and her aura dissolves, and Blake feels it ricochet through her like a bullet pinging its way down a cannon. 

I just got her back. 

Blake can still feel Yang’s palm, warm, cradling her cheek when she’d walked back into the room and sucked all the air from it. Blake can still feel Yang’s strength, her steady presence, the way she always catches the other end of the line and pulls it taut. The way she always catches it. She always catches it. Blake throws, and her aim is true. 

I’m not going to break my promise. 

Blake throws, and her aim is true. Yang never misses, but her eyes are drifting shut, and just this once, just this once, she does. Blake feels like she’s swimming in jello but her pulse is racing. Her muscles set on furious fire while her heart collapses like a ruined soufflé. 

Yang keeps falling until she looks small, smaller than she has any right to be, blinks into a pinprick, blinks out of sight. Grief pumps through Blake, agony and rage. She feels herself tipping after Yang, but Weiss holds her back. She feels the battle rage around her, feels like now that’s all she has. 

I know you won’t.