#fallout ss

My bro is turning him into the true war criminal that he is

the sullivans

A moodboard for @theartofblossoming‘s sole survivor, his struggle, and his person <3

Hi Rory. Hi Gage. Sorry I made you look so terrible.

Sparky no! Programme: sketchbookpro Time: 1hr

Another oldie, seeing as how you all seemed to like my last Maple X Danse drawing so much. Made in 2015. This was the first time ever that I attempted to draw Danse so yeah...  ___________________________ It's over. But it doesn't feel over. She wandered away after the explosion by herself. Didn't ask any of us to come along. Didn't tell us where she was going. She dissapeared into the settling smoke and dust. As fast as she had entered our lives, she exited just the same. Two months with no word. Each day surrendering to a more and more pronounced thought that perhaps she had been killed. My mind betraying me, exploring the different ways that she could have ended her life out there. When she didn't return, those of us closest to her discussed the worst. One of the few times Valentine and I ever saw eye-to-eye. There was discussion of us forming search parties. To bring her back home. Dead or alive. But before the parties could be disbanded she wandered in without a word. Her power armor glinting like obsidian in the moonlight. A familiar ghost. Valentine was first to welcome her back, not a word shared between the two. He was happy, but we all worried. It was worse for me somehow. Worse because behind her hard gaze was something else there now. A soft uneasiness behind her glassy eyes. As if she was beginning to let go. It was as if part of herself had gone down with the Institute that day. She was the stubborn knot beginning to unravel. All of those questions we had stored about her mission diminished. It has been almost a week since her return. She does nothing. She says nothing. Whenever I think to console her I always find myself frozen. Scared. Day and night she plays the same holotape from her husband. From her child. I know she wishes things were different. That her life is filled with regrets she can't change and she hates this world she’s trapped within. I've always known that coping hasn't been easy for her. But somehow this seems different. I don't know what to do. What to say. The soldier in me --the impersonal part-- wants to tell her to internalize and use battles as her emotional outlet. But the greater part of myself, the newer and more undiscovered part is uncertain and afraid. Each day that goes by I realize I'm losing her more and more. I cannot let her go again.

Fighty may be over 6″ but 5′3 Dicky is the one you really gotta watch out for. She can and will figure out how to call your manager to complain. Also, she has never skipped leg day.

Thank you for the prompt my dear! It was refreshing to draw her and I loved working with this palette - have a Nancy Rhine, fresh out of Vault 111.