they are finally together let's go. they are my barbie dolls and im making them kiss. That's a placeholder outfit for Floyd btw he's gonna get 1-2 fits... eventually.
Floyd's guitar has a peacock on it, and there is significance to it! Hello I'm Television's What the Fuck Taylor and I'm here for a mini yap
In Christian art, peacocks symbolize eternal life and resurrection (and royalty; King Solomon imported them, the eyes on the tail of a Peacock symbolize the eyes of God, etc etc etc, like girl pick one /j).
While Floyd's relationship with religion is complicated to say the least, he has always felt drawn to peacocks and what they represent. They're also his favorite animal lol.
Choosing to put a peacock on his guitar, to him, symbolizes that his music will outlive him; he's on the fence if he personally believes in resurrection or an afterlife, so the music he writes and performs has become his own form of eternal life.
Brushing the dust off this account with a short Brynjolf x GN!Reader oneshot! (No mention of reader's gender or appearance!) I always ache for more Brynjolf content lol. Enjoy!
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You’ve never seen Brynjolf look so utterly dumbfounded than when you touched his hand and softly inquired, “Bryn,” barely above a murmur, then after gaining confidence: “are you seeing anybody?” You knew the answer to that question, but asked anyway.
The way his eyes snapped up to meet yours; his head remained unmoving, downturned, hovering above the charcoal in his hand. His eyes moved to survey the way you’re leaning across the desk to reach him, likely tucking away the image for later. You were amused; able to choke down a chuckle, but you couldn’t catch your smirk in time.
He had been scribbling down some notes on a map: a heist he’s been planning for some days now. That’s what you two were initially discussing, but the conversation has led… elsewhere, apparently too quickly for Brynjolf to process with his usual wit. Now, though, you watched a lump in this throat appear and disappear again.
“No,” he said flatly, then made eye contact with you again, “I’m not.” He said it like an invitation. He relaxed over the desk, but kept your hand where it was. He was studying you; he knew your intentions, where this question was leading, but he needed to hear it from you, plain and simple.
“In that case, how would you like to treat me to dinner sometime?”
He flashed a coy smile. “As long as it’s not at the Bunkhouse, you’ll have me wherever you point me to.”
A/N: I've been wanting to share my plans for my Courier Sadie's approach to dealing with the infamous confrontation at Fortification Hill. Also Fuck the Legion vdjfdkj
Summary: Sadie decides to save Benny and make herself a friend of the Legion.
Warnings: Legion slave trading mention and implication.
Read Elsewhere: AO3 | Toyhou.se
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Sadie is a natural manipulator, playing right into the hands of whomever she's speaking with, getting exactly what she wants. She'll play the long game if she needs to.
This worked with Benny when she confronted him at The Tops. She had no interest in killing him; she had interests in extorting him for all she could, using his own position of power against him. She gained a powerful informant and, once New Vegas' independence has been secured, a steady flow of caps to fund her research. That's much more satisfying to her than simply pulling out her YCS/186 and making quick work of those around her.
Fortification Hill was a new beast. She knew she wanted to take Benny with her, but Caesar was right in front of her. This was the opportunity of a lifetime to become a sort of spy, for nobody but herself, just as she had done with NCR, as she will do with the Brotherhood of Steel; every faction she could, getting what she wants, then bending their fate to her whim.
She was left with a troubling choice.
Does she dispose of her informant? She had doubts she could cut a similar deal, and less-so one as secure as the one with Benny. She has two bullet holes and a shallow grave over him. The same couldn't be said for Swank, Nero, Big Sal, Marjorie. To dispose of him is a gamble. It's giving up a powerful position. Sadie can't do that.
Does she kill the whole camp? An entire camp of battle-trained Legionnaires? Caesar? Vulpes Inculta? Frankly, she had limited ammo at that point, limited supplies, and moreover, limited patience. All things she'd gain over time, hard-earned over the course of her journey through the Wastes, but now? It had hardly been a few months since she woke up in Doc Mitchell's care.
She took all the time she needed in the Bunker to clear her head. She mindlessly messed about with the terminals while she mulled over her choices, chewing on her cheek. The side of her tongue. Her bottom lip. She cut her bottom lip open but hardly noticed.
Then... Bingo. (No pun intended, Benny.) She thought back to the deal she struck down at Cottonwood Cove, watching as the family she set free vanished into the Wastes. Could she strike a similar one here?
The only assets Sadie had were her mind (amnesiac sure, but still sharp as a nail) and caps, having gotten herself banned from gambling at every casino while planning what to do with Benny. Caesar wants a show? He'd get one... in form of a live auction.
After doing House's bidding in the bunker, she marched back up to Caesar's tent. She pretended to listen intently to him yammer on and on until she heard, "You get to decide how Benny dies."
Sadie hid it well, but she felt her stomach flip at the idea. I can't lose this deal. This leverage.
Stoic and emotionless, Sadie asked, "How much?"
"Come again?"
"How much?" Sadie flashed a hulking bag of caps at him. "How about..." she gave Benny a glance, looking him over as if crunching numbers in her head, "two thousand caps?"
Caesar made a bid, though not a monetary one; a simple raise of an eyebrow and complete silence. He bid for her to elaborate.
"I don't like to be rushed," she said, coyly, "I play with my food, Kaisar." After more silence, she asked, "How detailed would you like me to be?"
"As detailed as possible," Caesar said, leaning in slightly. Sadie felt the sharp, stinging eye of Vulpes. The whole tent was quiet.
"Killing him," Sadie said, rephrasing what she had said to Benny as she had him cornered in his makeshift laboratory, lit only by Yes-Man's screen, "is only a means to an end. He's given me a gift, a powerful man like himself. I have plans to extort him. Bleed him dry in every way possible before I resort to doing so physically." No one noticed the wind shake the crates in the left-most corner of the tent. "Thank you for catching my runaway. I'd pay top dollar for the opportunity to continue my work."
Caesar breathed through his nose, slowly, looking Sadie over. Studying her, searching for a simple flinch, an eye-twitch, a half-smile; 60 years experience in calling bluffs made him masterful.
Then, something exploded. Reverberating throughout the tent. Vulpes even seemed to jump at the sound.
Laughter.
"Just fuckin' take him!" Caesar said, giving a hearty slap his knee, "Before I change my fuckin' mind." As he came down from his fit, he coughed, cleared his throat, then said firmly, "Come back soon, I have work for people like you." That was an order.
Sadie nodded, seemingly unphased.
As she approached, Benny looked her over quizzically. Someone making Caesar laugh was a new one. Only having heard bits and pieces, he began to ask but was cut off by Sadie hoisting him up from the binds that held his hands together. She pushed him in front of her, telling him to move.
Once free from the tent, Benny broke the silence. "Where are we goin', Firecracker?"
She thought for a moment. "Novac, I suppose. Now keep moving."
I'm reworking Farmer Glória's pre-Stardew story: She's now a former mortician. Also me having read Smoke Gets In Your Eyes by Caitlin Doughty in a day and a half has absolutely nothing to do with this decision. Pinky swear.
It does but also I wasn't too keen on her culinary arts past because it doesn't contribute much past "lmao she can cook."
But her having been a former mortician? A green death advocate? Man there's so much to work on there. The symbolism of her accepting that her crops die off every season instead of trying to keep them around; simply replanting new crops in their stead?
Her kicking back in the saloon and casually mentioning she used to work in death care? Abi and Seb being like WHOA TELL US MORE and Sam being like "uhhhhh i didnt sign up for this existential crisis but also im interested."
I can only imagine Abigail would ask for the embalming process, in full unabridged detail lmao. Tell me she wouldn't. Glória would be like "hey im all for being death-positive but maybe the saloon on a friday night where people are eating and drinking isn't the place to go into crude detail,"
there are lots of mini comic ideas coming to mind -- not just about Glória's past but just in general. i love stardew
gracieabrams
stormborns
vaporwave
jimmyeatworldofficial
tangentwithtanner
origamiaround
