#f: nv

[anna-neko]

in honor of some new Fallout tv show promos today, let us return to NewVegas cosplay of years past

[serahdreamy]

With the second season of Fallout being reminiscent of F:NV, here is a fanfiction I wrote forever ago.

Is it good? No. I was young and I think this was the first thing I ever wrote.

But it is gay. Sapphic. And sometimes that's enough.

Benny's Suit

Benny is dead and the Courier has started wearing his suit. Everywhere. Sure, it's a little creepy, but no big deal… Right? So why is Veronica so upset?

[fairyouth]

[rosey-does-draws]

the only thing I love more than New Vegas is @hvadeina‘s amazing Courier Six

[rockscanfly]

TMA/F:NV Cross-Drabble

Six settled back against Boone, the two of them propping the other upright with the weight of their tired bodies. She watched the last strains of light fade from the sky as she began her half of the watch. As dark fell she felt the steady rise of Boone’s chest through their thin shirts. His breathing was slow and even as exhaustion finally carried him off to sleep. 

“I’m sorry,” she said to the empty desert. The rock under her palms still radiated warmth, soaked in from the Mojave sun. She scrubbed her hands against it, desperate for its warmth to leech in and chase away the cold settled in her stomach. “Don’t want this for you, kid.”

The man at her back was quiet, even breaths shifting his spine against hers, pressing their ribs together like interlacing fingers. Dead to the world, deaf to the useless confessions of the sun-wrinkled woman at his back. 

Six thumbed the safety off and on her pistol, free hand tracing the silver engravings. “Benny had it coming,” she muttered. “He was a rat, and he knew what he was playing with. Dumb bastard tried to fuck over the Web. Of all the gods to try to trick—” 

She swallowed, burying her head in her arms. She bit down on the faded checker print of her sleeve, sweet dust and old blood filling her mouth. She took one breath, then another, in and out until she was no longer at risk of cracking, of shouting.

She’d already taken so much from Boone. Was fixing to take more. Least she could save for him was a little shut eye. 

Boone was a good man. A kid, really. A sweet one, before war and its violences made their mark on him. Even then Six was certain he hadn’t been any sort of marked by one of the entities. 

It had been Carla, the striking personal loss of her, the framing of his murder of his wife as mercy. Six had thought it’d been that night with herself in his red beret, a splotch of blood in the blues of the desert scrub. The thud of a body in the dirt at her feet as a crack rang through the air like justice. She’d believed that was the blood in the water, the bait that let the Hunt sink its teeth into him. 

Now she knew it was his desperate crawl, no water, no food, just ugly endless hunger and rage driving him after fading footprints in the sand. The Hunt had had him since he set himself in that nest, waiting for days for them to drag his love out into the open air. His death knell was his own bullet through Carla’s throat, through the metal collar they’d shackled around her neck. Six’d had no hand in that. 

But she was the one who’d taken him, brought him along to chase the Bull from the Mojave. She didn’t have a choice, really—Caesar was gearing up to feed half the Mojave to the Slaughter. She was powerful, but the Web needed its chess pieces.

“You’re lost to it now,” she rasped. Gently, she set Benny’s Maria down at her side. Carefully, moving as slowly and delicately as her worn nerves would allow her, she reached over her own shoulder to rest her fingertips against his. She held her breath, memorized the solid warmth of another living body at her back. “You’re mine now. My responsibility. And when it's time, when you’re...not you, anymore…” 

Six gripped his shirt tight as she dared, eyes shut tight against tears she’d long thought dried up. “I’ll make it fast,” she muttered. “You deserve that much.” 

Warm muscle shifted against her back and her stomach dropped, twilight bravery blown out like the last embers of a campfire at the possibility that he might’ve actually heard her. Confessional aside, there were a lot of men on the other side of the ridge. And she needed a partner. Not just for the shooting. Webs worked best when stretched wide, and if Six was going to beat the Slaughter she needed to catch as many do-gooders and would be heroes into her own as she could get.

Lucky for her, he settled, snuffling lightly as he fought off whatever monster dogged his steps in his dreams. 

Six sighed, patting him lightly before withdrawing her hand. “Sleep well kid,” she murmured. “Sweet dreams.”  

[wereverine]

if ya ever want insight into how long it takes me to set up games to have the best possible experience for me: I already have an estimated NINETY-THREE minutes logged in fallout: new vegas and I literally just stopped talking to the doc and got the pip-boy

(also thank you @theoretical-mycologist for purchasing this for me even tho i said no bday gifts)

[its-synth-detective-jackass]

Twenty seconds after meeting Raul I gave him my hat and I don't think he liked it

[bunnie-blogging]

the courier, day 60: [takes a sip from their trusty Vault 13 canteen] the courier: wait a second the courier: [tilts their trusty Vault 13 canteen upside down] the courier: [floods the entire Mojave]