💯🔥✨hellooo and welcome, my name is Keegan ✨🔥💯|| BANNER IS A PLACEHOLDER😠(He/She/They) I post whatever hyperfixation i get and i will change my whole acc to fit it
Finally I have properly returned to the fandom after some years, idk if this has been done before but it came to my mind a few days ago + closeups and extra doodles
Finally I have properly returned to the fandom after some years, idk if this has been done before but it came to my mind a few days ago + closeups and extra doodles
Looking for commissions that aren't as expensive? A fun artstyle that teaches the artist as well?
Well look no further!
I have a fun, sketchy artsyle that I want to draw your oc in! Different designs and poses will also help me improve! Below the cut is the price list and rules :)
Looking for a place where you can express yourself and your Fallout oc? Well say no more!
Open now, Fallout RP:
The place where your oc's, your fantasies and your ships will come to life! Make new friends, show your art and explore the wasteland with your friends in this roleplay based server.
Born in a small town along the beaches of Normandy, France, Red grew up surrounded by the echoes of history and conflict. Determined to make a life of her own, she sought new opportunities beyond her homeland, eventually securing a chance to work in the United States, a decision that would change the course of her life forever.
Once there, she quickly picked up the English language and gradually lost most of her French accent.
Time passed, and another opportunity came her way. What looked like a simple medical demonstration for students was something far darker. The Cradle Project hid in plain sight, until she walked through its doors.
And so, she was inducted into the Cradle Trials. Piece by piece, her mind began to fracture—memories erased, identity stripped away. The Pantheon made sure she’d never recall who she once was. Every trace of her past was blacked out from her files, erased like she never existed.
And so her name became REDACTED or Red.
After the Cradle experiments ended in disaster, leaving the facility in ruins, the Pantheon refused to discard their creation. They rebuilt Red into something beyond human: a weapon, a soldier without a past. She was placed in command of her own unit, her true identity buried beneath layers of secrecy. No one knew her name, her origin, or even if she was man or woman. They only knew one rule: never disobey.
Her mask served many purposes: concealment, protection, survival. It filtered the lingering toxins of the Cradle during combat, shielding her from its deadly effects. But over time, the line blurred. She became dependent on it, addicted to the rush it brought. The hallucinations, the surge of power, she craved them. With or without the mask, Red became a weapon best kept at a distance. One wrong move, and you’re dead.