Corrine made the awful decision of stopping by home after Bait and Switch and from then on, Gamlen thought twice before he spoke when she brought Fenris around.
Fellow Fallout oc artist here. Not a question but your fallout art inspired me a lot. You're my absolute favorite artist and seeing your first fallout 4 playthrough art with Sharam and Danse meant so much to me. I'm in a very bad place rn but seeing you doing fallout art again makes me happy. :) Thank you. Already love Sol and Imo. :)
Hey there beloved Kimikry♡
Your message truly touched me deeper than one could ever imagine. I really am so happy that you said you like my silly doodles let alone saying that I'm your favorite artist. Like, hello?!? That's any artist's dream!! Wow i'm beyond honored
Also you remember Sharam and Danse?!?! Am sooooooo shyyy that's crazy it's been so long. Here I am thinking that my old work is in the far away past.
I often find myself going back to fallout when I feel extremely overwhelmed, sad, depressed or conflicted by life's challenges. The years have been very strange since 2020 (when I startes fallout 4) and ever since it has been a constant battle. All of this to say that I hear you, and I empathize with you dear.
Don't you dare give up, because just after the darkest hour, there is sunshine. You are inherently worthy of being loved and appreciated and no one would ever be right to not give you the respect you're due. I know you'll break through the challenges and I'm cheering for you from up north (Canada)
Here's a drawing of Sharam and Solomon meeting you for the first time♡
Based on my fic Up The Ante which I wrote earlier on. Just adding art to it now.
I added some coding for card flips on the second chapter🥰
First chapter below to preview
As night fell on Kirkwall, Varric and Isabela made themselves comfortable by the oversized stone table in study of Danarius’ former mansion. The room had been picked over and still bore signs of the night it was taken, but the lamps and candles gave the room a warm glow it did not have under the magister’s care. Diamondback Night had become a weekly ritual for Fenris, allowing him a regular source of good company, wine and coin.
His ears twitched at a short knock at the door; their fourth player had arrived. With a nod to the two rogues who were chuckling to themselves, he went to the door to greet his guest. There stood Corrine Hawke. As the door opened, she took a step back. They both averted their eyes before they could fully meet.
After a moment, the mage broke the silence. “So…Diamondback Night. Do I owe the pleasure to Donnic being on patrol?” she teased. It was an unexpected invitation. She seemed in good spirits though she eyed the elf carefully, still curious about his intentions.
“I thought it’d be a welcome change to a night of drinking games and witch cards for you,” Fenris quipped as he raised a brow and crossed his arms. Without his grafted hide armor for once and in his tunic and leg covers, she could see the contrast of the lyrium brands branching along his tanned skin.
“Witch cards? It’s tarot. Ta-rot,” she stuttered incredulously as she corrected him and refocused herself. As she followed him in, she caught the slightest hint of a smirk. He brought her to the study to be greeted by their friends. Varric chuckled and patted the seat by him, moving over as she got settled.
“Nice of you to join us, Brighteyes. Now the games can really begin,” Varric said as she nudged her playfully. She nudged him back and smiled as he poured himself a goblet of wine from one of the two expensive looking bottles on the table, no doubt from Danarius’ private collection.
“We’re lucky to have such a generous and pretty host, don’t you think, Hawke? It’s almost enough to forgive the decor!” Isabela teased as she took a swig from her goblet. She eyed the elf, winking and grinning widely as she twirled a strand of her raven hair around her fingers. “And lanky even for an elf. I like that.”
”Subtle,” Corrine said with a raised eyebrow as she eyed the pirate gleaming at Fenris. She earned herself a grin from Varric and a hearty laugh from Isabela.
“What can I say, Hawke? Maybe I like my meat with a bit of chew to it!” Isabela cackled before taking another drag of wine. Corrine shook her head as her face fell to her palm at the less than stellar mental image. Isabela was like a dog and Fenris was the bone she wanted to gnaw on.
Fenris huffed as his eyes narrowed briefly in response. He pulled two magician cards from his decks and placed them aside. They began a draw for a high card with Fenris pulling the highest, who then passed each player two cards face down and placed down two silvers to start off the pot. Varric flipped over a king and Isabella a priest. Corrine considered her cards as she pushed two silvers up as well, revealing her first card as a priestess. She leaned over to pour from the bottle Isabela and Varric had poured from. Without looking up, Fenris pointed to the other bottle.
“That one might suit you better, Hawke,” he suggested. She hesitated before pouring from the bottle he had gestured to. A fruity floral scent wafted from the bottle as she poured and with one sip, she tasted sweet passion fruit and caramel. No sourness or dryness at all. A surprised noise escaped her lips. “Oh wow.”
“Just enough alcohol to keep conversation flowing, as the Antivans would say,” Fenris added, pleased with himself. It had been a deliberate choice after seeing her choke on the ale at The Hanged Man. He had found it stashed in the corner of the cellar. Though he couldn’t read the label, he had distinguished it by its shape and color. It was a popular choice for Danarius’ more sensitive guests. Despite his wariness of her magic, underneath it all, she seemed the sort to appreciate something more sweet and delicate.
“Antivan Brandy, huh? Of course you’d go for something rare,” Varric noted as he eyed the bottle. Too sweet for my liking, though.”
“And much too weak for me,” Isabela added. “Just right for a lightweight like you, though.” Corrine rolled her eyes as the pirate cackled and took another drink.
Varric grinned as his fingers stroked his broad chin. He looked from one side of the table to the other at the broody warrior and the coy mage. An interesting little dynamic, the dwarf thought to himself. “Awfully considerate. Didn’t know you had it in you, Elf,” he chuckled, earning a shrug from Fenris.
The consideration hadn’t gone unnoticed. She smiled at Fenris genuinely as she looked up from her goblet. “A great choice. Thank you,” she said, raising her drink. He nodded in response as he raised his as well. The others joined in a toast.
“Do you like sweet things? You seem more the type for something bitter and drier than wood,” Corrine teased. At her side, Varric raised an eyebrow.
“If its done right. Otherwise, its sickening,” Fenris responded with sneer. Varric’s eyes shot to the elf; his mouth was ajar.
“Something going on between you two?” Varric questioned, smiling and twiddling his thumbs. He had already assumed.
“No,” they said in unison. Their eyes were still locked from across the table.
Isabela leaned in, eager to join in on the banter. She was by no means drunk but was happily warm from drinking. “Well, we can’t have you sauced too early, Hawke. Not when there’s still some coin we can get out of you.” She tugged at Corrine’s pouch playfully before letting the mage pull it away. She then turned her attention to Fenris. “Doting on mages and making drink suggestions. Old habits die hard, don’t they, pet?” She had always been brash but this landed harder than she expected, much to her enjoyment. Fenris scowled at her but she laughed it off, enjoying his discomfort a little too much.
A “pet.” Corrine remembered him mentioning Danarius’ charade of having his intimidating warrior pour wine for his guests. It was a humiliation ritual the magister delighted in. Fenris had taken this mansion as one victory against his oppressor but that reminder of what he had been so long ago had darkened his expression.
Suddenly, Isabela’s goblet tilted, spilling over her lap. She choked out a shriek and stumbled out of her seat as she grabbed at her soaked tunic. “Shit! This is going to be harder to take out than blood! I look like I gutted myself!”
“Messy, Isabela,” Corrine tutted, shaking her head. “Serves you right though for getting carried away.” She offered a handkerchief to the pirate who was wringing the end of her tunic and bemoaning her stained boots. Fenris noticed a hint of a grin on the mage’s lips as she helped dab the spilt wine. An accident or something more? The topic had been dropped, at least. Fenris revealed his card to be a king and dropped in two more silvers.
The game continued a couple more rounds as the crew chatted with the pot shifting between them. Isabela, eventually worn down by the wine soaked tunic and boots, admitted defeat. “I’ve been drenched in far worse for sure and been far stickier, but it’s getting late, loves,” she declared as she finished off the bottle.
Varric got up as well, offering to go along with his fellow rogue. “We’re headed the same way anyways and I’ll quit while I’m ahead,” said Varric as he thumbed through the silvers in his pocket. He put an arm around Isabela’s waist as they headed towards the door.
“Borrow him for the night. Maybe at least then one of us can have some fun,” Isabela joked. She cackled at the mage’s sour expression, satisfied she could get one last laugh in at Corrine’s expense before the trek back to Lowtown.
Varric turned to Corrine with a grin. “Don’t mind her. Choice is yours if you’d like to come with us or spend some more quality time with the broody elf. Just don’t kill each other. Kirkwall still needs you in the morning.”
Corrine had already gotten up but the question made her stop a few paces behind the dwarf and pirate. She took one look over at Fenris who was reshuffling the cards. Isabela and Varric were already past the front door. There was a moment of silence as her eyes met his yet again. She put her hands together and cocked her head playfully. “If you’ll tolerate having a mage as your friend for a little longer.”
Fenris scoffed and gave her a sideglance. “A mage as my friend. I suppose it won’t kill me. Not immediately, at least.”
She paused at his comment. “Then I take it back,” she said flatly as she turned to leave.
“Don’t,” he sighed, struggling with his words as his hand slid down his face. “You would be…good company, Hawke. Tonight would be well spent with you.”
Pleased, she looked back grinning and all too satisfied as she took her seat across from him and began helping him tidy the table. “Rest assured, so long as my heart stays where it is, you have nothing to worry about with me,” she said with a smile.
“Same, so long as that magic’s leashed,” he said as his lips creased with a crooked smile. It would be mutually assured destruction if it ever came to that. Hawke was an ally but she was secretive and her methods were questionable. He’d seen her magic at work. It still seemed strange that the girl in front of him had entropy and frenzy at her fingertips.
It wasn’t so long ago that they had had a confrontation. He remembered how her heart felt pounding against his touch and her defiant gaze despite it. They hadn’t addressed what happened since that day and the back and forth they had now treaded precariously between play and threat.
There was still spilt wine and coins strewn along it and the floor from Isabela. Fenris eyed her before he spoke again, gesturing to the wine stain.
“Isabela’s not known to be clumsy. Did you do this?” he asked.
“Did I do *what* exactly? Everyone’s clumsy sometimes,” Corrine cocked her head as she met his gaze and crossed her arms.
Fenris tilted his chin, observing her. “You included? You’re dodging the question, Hawke. And you have a tell.”
“Do I?” The mage’s brow knitted in response as her eyes went from the coin she had lost back to the smug elf. She shrunk in her seat under his stare. “Is this going to be another interrogation? Last time, it got tense.” She looked at the door where their friends had departed, her eyes narrowing slightly. Maybe she made a mistake not leaving with the others.
“It did.” He hesitated as he looked down at his hands, feeling again at where he’d touched her. “It’s partly why I invited you. I could have approached it better.” He took the bottle of brandy and topped off her goblet.
“Oh,” Corrine paused before she spoke again, her voice softening. “Admittedly, I also could have done better. I understand why you’d be dodgy especially with how I handle things. A force of habit, I guess.” She cringed at the unintentional pun but eased up in her seat.
Fenris nodded in agreement. “Old habits die hard, as Isabela said.” He looked at his fingers as he spoke. It may have been the first time Corrine had seen them not clad in steel. The pale lyrium brands ran along the top of each slender finger.
Corrine stacked a few coins on the table while frowning. “Isabela said a lot of things tonight.” She paused for a moment in though before continuing. “Why tolerate it? Are you a masochist?”
Fenris narrowed his eyes at her but considered the question. It hadn’t been dissimilar to how Danarius and his guests and passerbies in Kirkwall had regarded the spectacle of an elf with striking green eyes and branded dark skin. It felt like something he’d come to expect. Even his name was something given to make him less of a person. He was a curious thing to be gawked and prodded at, a trophy in Danarius’ trove of assets. He had become numb to it; he had heard all of this before.
“I guess she finds me amusing,” he stated dryly with a shrug. “I’ve grown accustomed to it. It’s nothing new.”
Amusement. Corrine paused and studied his gaze. She’d seen his eyes sharpen with anger and dull with a long tiredness at times as they’d passed through Kirkwall. Even during Diamondback, she’d noticed it; he had stayed calm but an old pain had dulled them momentarily.
“You have a tell too, you know, besides the lyrium.” She began as she raised her goblet to her lips.
“Found something to pick at, Hawke?” Fenris asked as he raised a brow. He was skeptical about where the mage was leading to and already on guard from her earlier bluntness.
She took a long drag of brandy, for courage, before she spoke again. “Those eyes of yours betray the cold front you put up in a tragically beautiful way.”
His eyes widened as he looked away. His brands, however, smoldered at her words. Isabela had called his eyes pretty and joked about wearing them as a necklace and Danarius also had contemplated about plucking them from his skull with sick glee. He had been disassembled in conversations into just a sum of his parts so much it had all become static. This was different.
Fenris reached for the brandy bottle and raised it to his lips, before meeting her gaze. He had been caught off guard and spoke hesitantly, still wondering if he had heard her correctly. “I wasn’t expecting flattery from you.”
“I'm just speaking plainly,” she muttered quietly. The brandy had loosened her lips more than she had liked.
He paused at the comment before a half-smile creased his expression. “Speaking plainly, your eyes also give you away as something more than just magic and tarot.” He had noticed the subtle shifts in her gazes and seen the facade drop when she thought no one was paying attention.
Surprised, Corrine brushed off the comment with a laugh. “Ah, I guess we’re even then…,” she replied. “I didn’t take you for a charmer.” They had been drinking so she chocked it up to banter.
It wasn’t her only tell, just the one he was willing to give away. There was also something intriguing, a valuable hint he wouldn’t give up just yet. When he strained his ears, he could hear her heartbeat. It’s pace was quickening.
Emboldened, Fenris grinned and followed up on his statement. “Perhaps I’ll work on my flattery for your next visit. With any luck, I’ll be better at it.”
”Next visit? Already thinking that far?” Corrine looked away as her face flushed red.
Was it too much? Fenris cleared his throat; he was getting carried away by the details and panic was starting to set in for both of them. Eye contact at this point felt like a death sentence.
Being Hawke the mage and tarot reader had been safe and simple in its two-dimensionality for Corrine but this conversation had taken new turns. Along with that, she was touching on something past the lyrium and armor to the person beneath it. All of this was alien to both of them. It felt precarious. The mansion was dead silent as their stalemate continued.
”Speaking of tarot, would you be up for a reading? Just for fun?” she offered, trying to the ice. She was desperate to change the subject and rifled through her pocket before pulling out her deck. It trembled in her grip.
There was a pause for a moment as he sat there, stone-faced. “Fine, but if you pull The Fool on me again, you’re leaving,” Fenris said dryly as he gestured to the table. Relieved, she sat back in her seat and shuffled the cards while he observed her. Her face was still flushed and her bright blue eyes were locked on her cards.
His face also felt warm but his complexion fortunately hid it better. His ears pricked at the almost imperceptible sound of her heart pounding like a rabbit’s and he found himself curious. How much faster could her heart race? He stamped down the thought for now.
Rn, it's the worst I have felt in a long while. A lot happens in my private life. Losing my job, conflicts with ppl I love, crying every single day. I am very ashamed and just tired of life.
I will def do an artfight post at the end of the month, but other than that.. it will probably be a bit quiet here for a while. (Except for reposts)
Based on my latest chapter of White Wolf, Crimson Favor - Ch.4 In Her Favor !
@fenhawke-week
It was past dawn and a hazy dew lingered in the air over the Vinmark Mountains. Corrine awoke to the high-pitch ringing of a whetstone against steel and the glint of the dying fire against metal. She sat up abruptly only to see Fenris looking over his blade. The dim sunlight dappled over his bare arms and highlighted the lyrium marks wrapping around them as he turned the blade over. His eyes scanned the length of it and over every detail before his ears pricked to the sound of her movement. Pausing, he gave her a sideglance.
“So much for keeping watch,” he said dryly. Their squire, Valentin, was passed out facing the rising sun with his mandolin still clutched in his arms. Meanwhile, other members of the camp were already stirring and Athenril was already on the far end of the camp directing the elves with the limited patience that they had paid for.
“I couldn’t have been out that long…” Corrine muttered to herself as she wiped the sleep from her eyes. She had stayed alert for at least a couple hours with her mind racing with thoughts of the tournament, of risk, and of the complexities that were already unfolding with this mission. At some point, all the thoughts had run together and everything had gone black.
“It was enough, I hope.” Another dry response. Was it sarcasm, concern, or a bit of both? He didn’t follow up to confirm it was either. They had shared a bottle of wine the night before and then a dance to celebrate with the freed elves; now a new day lay ahead to tackle the joust and the simmering emotions between them.
Before she could respond, his attention was back on his blade. Taking some wood ash, he appraised its grit between his fingers before mixing it with some oil from his pack and applying it to the blade with a soft cloth. He ran it along the blade in long strokes. He seemed lost in thought; it was part of a long-practiced ritual, a sort of meditation.
“It was. Thanks.” She started. “Good that you let me rest; they say the Fade calls to sleep-deprived mages and leads them astray.” The head turn was abrupt and immediate. He had a noticeable grip on the blade as he stared at her.
“Really?” He asked wryly.
“No,” she stifled a laugh. “Not really.”
“Another bad joke…” He exhaled through his teeth before turning the blade in his grip and turning back towards the dying fire.
Grinning, she cupped her face in her hands, still sitting up from her bedroll. “No need to worry. I’m just a normal girl, after all.”
“But you’re not.” Fenris countered.
Her heart sank as he sighed and looked to his blade to pick up where he left off but paused before speaking. His tone was conflicted but thoughtful, as if saying more would betray him. “You’re…something more.”
Her expression softened. Something more. Her magic indeed made him wary but there was something else that pulled at him. At both of them.
“You as well,” she responded.
Caught off-guard, he gave another side-glance. He looked downwards while in thought for a moment before returning to his work, though she caught the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.
She ran her fingers through her hair, untangling the knots she had gotten from tossing and turning before noticing the extra roll that had been placed top of her sometime in the night. She felt the thick, worn material with her fingers. It smelt of leather, petrichor and ash; it smelt like him.
Closing her eyes, she took it all in for a moment. His smell, his words, everything that had transpired before and what laid before them and what felt inevitable despite her denying what she had seen in her cards. She got up from her bedroll and folded his across her arms before approaching him.
“You didn’t need to do that for me. Did you even sleep?” She asked as she set the folded roll by him.
“The Dalish advise covering and hiding hapless travelers spending nights in the Vinmark Mountains, lest the Dreadwolf take them in their sleep.” Fenris stated flatly.
Corrine blinked in confusion, wondering if this was something new he had picked up on from his travels or from Merrill. “Wait, what? They say that?”
“Seeing as I’m not Dalish, I wouldn’t know…” he trailed off before a grin spread across his lips. “So no, not really. And I am accustomed to little sleep. It seemed you needed it more.”
“I’m not hapless…” she asserted. She shook her head at being fooled once again by the elf’s perfect poker face.
“You were trembling in your sleep,” he pointed out.
Her eyes fell to her hands as she sighed. It wasn’t from cold but from the same recurring nightmare she had had since Bethany’s death. What awaited them at the tournament was weighing on her and with it that ever growing fear once again.
Noticing her expression, he leaned in. “Hawke, I-“ he cut himself off. A force of habit. After the other day, she had a new name and one not even Varric called her. It still felt too foreign on his tongue and to call her “Lady Corrine” felt too painfully familiar.
She smiled solemnly. “When we get to the tournament, it’ll have to be My Lady or Lady Corrine. If I’m tied to the Hawke name, they could very well also tie my knight to it as well. Risky if Danarius is involved.”
She was met with silence as he looked away as his brow furrowed. Titles left a bitter taste in his mouth after his escape from the Castellum Tenebris but was a necessary charade.
“Is that all?” he asked with a dark chuckle. “Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy this little play you’ve put on.”
She cocked her head slightly at his remark before leaning in close. Her lips parted in a mischievous smile as she spoke. “I won’t deny that I enjoy how my name sounds when you say it.”
He was taken aback before she continued. ”Do it for the tournament and after, we can go back to routine and I can be ‘Hawke’ again, if that’s what you want.”
”It’s not that…,” he started before they both heard a loud yawn as Valentin roused from his sleep. He stretched out all four limbs before looking over at them lazily. Looking over yonder, the skies had lightened and it was high-time to head out.
Valentin, true to Athenril’s description, was a skilled squire and assisted Fenris with the armor Corrine had provided. He was soon unrecognizable under the sheets of steel and under the helmet. The white charger Athenril provided was tractable enough that he seated it with ease and soon the three bid farewell to Athenril and the elves and went in separate paths through the Vinmark Mountains.
-
Despite what he had heard from Donnic and Aveline, nothing could prepare Fenris for the sight of the tournament grounds that stretched from end to end. Corrine had asked him to let her do the talking with guardsmen at the front and, brandishing the invitation she had, the three were able to make it through with minimal fuss though talk of the Amell House entering the grounds with just a small crew instead of an entourage did raise eyebrows. Lady Amell and her knight Blaidd received a mix of tepid welcomes and curiosity from the other nobles. Talks of the “wild-card” Amell quickly began to make their rounds among the other lords and ladies during the opening ceremonies.
Arriving, Corrine and Valentin already noticed small signs of tampering. Perhaps a noble, upon seeing their entrance, had tossed some coin at attendant with loose enough morals to tamper with the straps on their horse’s saddle and weaken their lances. It was something she already expected and it only made her more sure of the plan she had been racking her mind over.
There was only a short break before the tournament started where Fenris was able to see Corrine before she was to head to the stands. In the midst of all the hustle and bustle of the crowds, they hadn’t spoken but he had kept his eyes on her. She was a vision in red; fully committed to her role as “Lady Amell.” No longer in mage robes, she had adorned herself in a dress befitting a noble lady. It was impressive how quickly she had camouflaged herself though, with how many eyes were on her and her team as a defiant new challenger, he wondered if it would be enough.
Fenris had removed his helmet in order to get some air before the first rounds. The pavilion they were in offered a welcome reprieve to be away from the wandering eyes and whispers. As Valentin fussed over the finer details of his equipment, Corrine noticed his eyes on her.
”How do I look? Convincing enough…?” She asked as she did a turn. Her tone was playful but there was that bit of hesitation in her voice as she looked up at him for approval.
”You look…different,” he said with some reluctance. In reality, he was struggling with his words. Seeing her in the dull light of the pavillion, adorned in gold and red and without the facial markings she normally had during missions, was different. She looked almost regal. The way her hair cupped her face and how the fine silk folded over her delicate form made his breath catch in his throat.
“What?” She choked out a laugh as she looked over herself, suddenly self-conscious. “Is it that bad?”
“It’s an improvement.” Another gruff response and another failed attempt at trying to get his words across. He caught his squire cringing at the entire exchange as he tended to his lances from the other side of the pavilion. Fenris sighed as his hand cupped his face in frustration.
She grimaced. “An improvement. What are you trying to say?”
He sighed and pushed through his embarrassment and continued, casting his eyes to the side “…that you’re beautiful.”
She was speechless for a moment before smiling and taking the sight of him in. The old armor they had found rotting in the basement of the Amell Estate so long ago was unrecognizable now on him. There he was, her knight donned head to toe in Amell armor, sharp-eyed and battle-ready. It filled her with pride and awe.
“Thank you. And you make for a stunning knight,” she said softly as she approached him. “I’m honored.”
Their moment was interrupted by the sound of a horn going off in the distance. “FIRST PASS TO START IN FIFTEEN MINUTES!” came the cry of the announcer across the field.
She looked pensive for a moment, internally deliberating on her choice. “You’ll need to finish up here. I have one last thing to give you, if you’ll indulge me.” She pulled from her side a ribbon in the same color as her dress.
“A ribbon?” He muttered skeptically.
“A favor,” she corrected. “It’s customary for a maiden to give her knight a favor. It’s for luck, though hopefully, you won’t need it.” They had less than fifteen minutes left. It was time for her to enact her plan - the card she had been saving.
He scoffed. Luck was something he felt had long evaded him, though his freedom and progress in Kirkwall had all been fortuitous after joining in with Hawke and her team. Her sapphire eyes looked at him eagerly until he relented. “Fine. Have at it, then.”
Smiling, she took out a small blade from her pack. He eyed her with suspicion as she cut a lock of her dark red hair before taking it her hand and stretching the fabric out in front of him.
“Give me your wrist,” she instructed.
He held out his right arm to her and watched her work as she worked the fabric around the hair lock and in circles. Each movement was deliberate and careful to tie the lock tightly in place.
She gently pulled his wrist to her lips and kissed it before looking up at him. “Done.”
He didn’t pull away but eyed her and exhaled a breath he had held from the moment she had began tying the favor. Even through the armor, it was almost as though he could still feel the warmth of her lips against his wrist. It felt out of place to have her looking up at him, an elven slave wrapped in armor, as if he was her liege. As if she was the one in his service instead.
“Are favors normally sealed with a kiss?” He asked with a grin, raising an eyebrow. “Is that part of your luck?”
“In a sense.” She smiled to herself as she let go of his gauntlet. He was skirting too close to the truth. “I’ll be with you on the field, in spirit.” She turned to leave but he caught her hand. There was a pause before he spoke.
“I’ll make every strike count and look for you in the stands,” he promised. His thumb caressed the inside of her palm as he held it gently.
“I’ll be cheering for you,” she responded with a grin while reluctantly pulling away. “I’m sure you’ll make me and House Amell proud.”
As she left to the stands, he found himself admiring the favor that she had wrapped around his gauntlet with such care. Her dark red hair was secured in the same red material as her dress. He brought it to his face, smelling the bergamot and vanilla he’d come to associate with her on so many nights back at the mansion.
Even if luck didn’t exist, the favor secured around his gauntlet made him emboldened to win, for the mansion and for his lady.
I wanted to share these beautiful birthday drawings I got!! 😭😭🧡🧡
The first one is my OC Dori, drawn by @hydroflorix and the second one is from @angry8ball with my OCs Dori, V-Boy and Mim, together with his OC Quincy and Hancock+Nick!!
@kimikry & @angry8ball prepared a belated birthday surprise for me and it was really sweet so wanted to post it here!
This is kind of an amazing card NGL I might have to get a frame for it.
They also had drawn some fun reaction pics of us for @angry8ball's recent Life Is Strange playthroughs 😅you both captured those moments on call perfectly lol
They also apparently got friends and loved ones to contribute music for a special mix CD to go along with the LIS theme so that was an uinexpected surprise.
Thanks so much @hydroflorix @gentlecatt @syckubota @shearingsheeps and you guys for adding to this <3!
I got so tired of struggling with Hancock's Tricorn hat when I draw him.
I got it as an item for Halloween in Fallout 76 as the Pirate costume hat. I put it on a mannequin in photo mode, in my shelter, and took photos from as many angles as I could come up with and cleaned it up a bit. Posting both versions!
I hope it can maybe help others as a reference piece. 🫶❤️
Let me know if you want them uploaded individually so there is more detail and higher resolution.
I got so tired of struggling with Hancock's Tricorn hat when I draw him.
I got it as an item for Halloween in Fallout 76 as the Pirate costume hat. I put it on a mannequin in photo mode, in my shelter, and took photos from as many angles as I could come up with and cleaned it up a bit. Posting both versions!
I hope it can maybe help others as a reference piece. 🫶❤️
Let me know if you want them uploaded individually so there is more detail and higher resolution.
Heaven, I'm in heaven
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek
I feel like the old Nick would have been quite a sight when he danced the Charleston. The clockwork detective in Diamond City? Hasn't quite had a partner who could measure up, well, that was it, until he meets another pre-war guy who knows just exactly how to swing.
In one of his dialogues, he hums the tune of something on the radio. I loosely recall seeing a post about it being Billie Holiday's Easy Living (jazz), but i'm unsure if i'm remembering that right. i have a terrible musical ear and i literally cannot tell 💀 (if y'all maccreadeologists have input, do share!)
He also mentions that he thinks Magnolia's singing (jazz) is what makes the Third Rail a pleasant place, but it's just alright to him & he digs rock n' roll more.
I think if he's with company that he's adequately comfortable around, he'd let loose. He'd probably know a lot of jazz songs by heart, given how much of the same couple of songs he's listened to while in Goodneighbor/overhearing radios that play it 24/7 in his lifetime, but if he really likes rock, I think he'd try to cover some of his fav songs. Imagining him to try and do a rock genre scream/rowdy singing is really funny to me, though.
absolutely shattered vocal cords by the end of the night from his song choices. mhm i can see it now.
"She was mine once. And she will be mine forever, no matter what."
I really wanted a OC drawing based on "The Fallen Angel" by Alexandre Cabanel, because it is my favorite painting. It's my Fallout OC Ren, since he is a good guy turning bad, I thought "Fallen Angel" fits him pretty well.
This is the reference:
I used it to trace the pose roughly to get the angle and i used it as a reference for the shading. But I did everything else by myself. I used an oil color brush this time and I really really like how this drawing turned out! ♡
gummygunk
origamiaround
titsay
germansingergirl
prguitarman
jacobvanloon
