The Wastrel



So I should have done this weeks ago! Months even.

This is me officially calling hiatus on the Wastrel/ Aesir blog. For how long? I’m not really sure.

I am not giving up on this character and her tribe, but the inspiration for her has not been there lately and that means I’m not having fun rping as her.

I would rather put her on hiatus than force myself to post. Now, I have a obligation for this blog and I fully plan on making that conclusive post. But other than that this place is going to continue to be quiet.

Fear not, Wastrel will come back. I have plans for her that are too important to her development and to me in general to ditch her.

If anyone following this blog wants it, I have other RP blogs I will be focusing on. Just note me if you’re interested in those and I will link you to them.

I appreciate all the time and effort you guys have put into interacting with me and my silly OC. It means the world to me.

Thank you also much. Keep an eye on the horizon for the Aesir in the future~


"Y-you don’t gotta stay with me little girl. Not if it ain’t what you want but—"

Desmont had to pause, had to prevent himself from asking for the wrong things lest the whole point of this reunion be wasted on his lack of willpower. He gulped hard and continued.

"Don’t run…

Desmont was momentarily speechless. His little Charlie was all grown up and it finally struck him now. With her tears and blood smeared into his jacket.

She had responsibilities? Things he wouldn’t like her doing?

It made him skeptical but then he’d never been open with her about his own work. His own sordid past.

Desmont held her closer, rubbing her back gently to try and calm her sobs. ” Aw Charlie Girl, you don’t gotta hide anything from me just cause you’re worried I won’t approve”

He leaned back, pulling her off him by her shoulders and tilting his head so he could smile and look her in the eye.

"That old crotchety man is gone. Adios. Sayonara. This is new me, we’re both makin’ promises to stop being dumb and be friends again. So don’t you feel you gotta hide ok?"


The hurt on his face.  His tears.  It killed her inside.  A part of her was definitely dying at that very moment.  Or, at least, it sure felt like it.  She pursed her lips tight as tears of her own showed up once again.  This was absolutely painful.  Not much could compare to it.  Definitely not even physical pain.  She’s been through enough of that and it couldn’t hold a candle to what she was feeling right now.

Charlie leaned over and let her thumb glide on his cheeks to wipe the tears away.  The sight of Desmont crying.  She never wanted to see that.  It didn’t fit him.  She was definitely not used to this.

For a moment, she remained quiet.  The insides of her were practically being ripped apart from the silence too.

"…What is it?"

"Y-you don’t gotta stay with me little girl. Not if it ain’t what you want but—"

Desmont had to pause, had to prevent himself from asking for the wrong things lest the whole point of this reunion be wasted on his lack of willpower. He gulped hard and continued.

"Don’t run from me anymore? I won’t follow ya or ask people to keep an eye on ya. I just want to be able to see ya every now and then. See how you are. Have a little date night or something dumb and silly" He’s gasping trying to keep his sobs inside. Desmont wasn’t ashamed to cry but he didn’t want to stress Charlie out after her ordeal either.

He just wanted her to be ok.

"Just very now and then we meet somewhere and just visit"


Charlie had a sudden revelation.  She was in this situation.  The one she didn’t want to be in.  She couldn’t do this again.  She couldn’t regress.  

The girl pushed against his chest and away from him.  It was a sudden movement, and she even seemed surprised that she had done it.  Her eyes were wide and tears still threatened to fall.

“Desmont, I…” She stared at him, mouth slightly agape. “I can’t stay with you.  Y-you understand that, right?  I’m not a child.” The words that came out were cruel.  But in context, it was something she has needed to say for a long long time.

Sure, back then, she acted like one.  After being shot.  After being captured and tortured.  Her mind was gone for a while.  And she needed guidance.  She needed him.

But it was different now.

She was 27 and had her life together at least somewhat.  Above all, she was alive.  On her own.  This was an achievement to her.  She couldn’t fall back into the same hole.  The one she was in with Desmont.

When she pushed at him a moment of hurt flashed over his weathered features before he mentally prevented himself from saying anything. He stared wide eyed down at Charlie. The hopefully smile on his lips frozen on his mouth as she confessed.

What could he even say to that?

A warm sensation pricked at the corners of his eyes but he paid no mind. He had to figure this out and fast. Once again big soppy tears poured down the gaunt curves of his cheeks, dripping down till they pattered on his lapels and clung to his chin.

“I know you’re not—-But” No!

Desmont stopped himself, physically wincing and squeezing his eyes shut to prevent himself from arguing. This was her choice, he had to respect that at the very least. But he could ask one small favor couldn’t he? Just for himself?

“Charlie—-C-could you at least do one little thing for me?”

Like a Moth to a Flame


Her replies were met with a horrified silence… for the time being. On one hand, he had not turned into a violent, overly cantankerous Fiend under the Ketamine’s influence, and this granted him some relief. However, what Wastrel described was hardly something for a man, such as himself, to take pride in. What made it worse was that he wore no face paint to conceal the reddening of his cheeks, and the rising morning sun had chased off the darker shadows covering his corner of the ruins. He could retreat further into his tent to hide, but that required spending energy he did not wish to spend.

The Gatekeeper cleared his throat before he went to stub the cigarette, leaving behind a black smear on the cement; the butt was given a toss towards the pile of rubble.

“Affectionate. Hm. Pleasant? Ha.” He grunted. “I do believe I will not pry for.. specifics regarding the embarrassing things. There are some memories I am okay with forgetting, it seems.”

His arms loosely crossed over his chest, and he tucked his cheek against his uninjured shoulder in a belated effort to hide the blush from view.

Part of him was glad the tribal was taking the gecko’s guts away to be cleaned, sparing him from the smell of gecko shit. Paleface couldn’t be sure if any fresh stenches would trigger another wave of nausea in his state, and he didn’t wish to find out. Still, he couldn’t help but feel some concern at the idea of the naked girl straying away from his territory with only a handful of innards and dirty water.

“You do not need to swear anything to me, just watch your back while you are out there.” He’d never trust most of his people around Wastrel, and at the moment, he felt absolutely useless as a guard from any who may spy and choose to harass her.

He hated feeling useless.

Wastrel turned her head and gave the man an incredulous look, pausing in the door way with her gory cargo for just a moment before grinning boldly and giving her eyes a roll. “Yessir” She was by no means flippantly disregarding the danger of being in her state of dress in fiend territory, but to think that she wouldn’t be on guard the whole time was silly.

He was silly. And his concern was touching and made those rascally butterflies come back full force.

Instead of dwelling on it however, the tribal made a quick exit and marched across the dessicated courtyard that was the fiend common area. Wastrel moved until she was a good twenty yards away from the gatekeepers domain.

The hasty business of cleaning the innards was not one she cherished but one she knew how to do fast enough to keep the unpleasantness from truly bothering her. Wastrel made quick work of stretching the innards out, kicking a sheet of rusty metal down on the ground and plopping most of it on top of the heated surface.

Slender hand made quick work of wringing the guts from top to bottom; after undoing the bottom knot, squeezing out the waste until it was a struggle to get anything out. She had to be as thorough as possible as she didn’t have a lot of water to spare.

Once she felt things were as clean as they were going to get, the young tribal tied the knot back down at the bottom and wrapped the cleaner end of the innards around the lips of the bottle. She poured the entire bottle into the intestines, and began massaging and rubbing it through the entire expanse of the pliable organ before finally reaching the end and working her way back up to the top.

She did this several times until letting the dirtied fluids spill out of the top, wringing it once again until not a single drop of water was left. The cooking process would clean what she could not, but it would always taste a bit off. Wastrel began braiding the intestines , looping and tugging and looping again till something similar to what she wore in her hair started  developing.

She managed to swing the unbraided half of the innards around her neck as she braided idly and walked back to Paleface. Maybe she could teach him this technique sometime, she’d always thought it was incredibly clever when her mother had tried teaching it to her.

You may not have posted the meme for Wastrel, but I'm gonna leave a little love here anyway. When I first saw Wastrel on my dash, I fell in love with her design, and the love grew when I found out she was a Fallout OC because she's such a unique idea for one. I recall you being worried about revealing her face, but I thought she was perfect when you did :3. She's a lovely character all around, and all kinds of fascinating. The whole Aesir idea is fascinating, actually :D.))

(( Awh man Psy, that really means a lot to me. Seriously. I as so surprised when people showed interest in her design, she was a random thought on a personal blog that evolved into an OC I never thought would get this far. And it’s because of all you wonderful people.

Hearing that people love her; especially people I look up to, it just means the world to me.))

This is Fulla and Jiang-Xu. Wastrels’ first and second cousins.

Jiang-Kyu is a NCR corporal that Fulla courted and got impregnated by before she ran back to the Aesir.

He’s still looking for Fulla and his son.

I decided I wanted to develop a few more Aesir and Aesir adjacent people. I’ve been plotting Fulla for awhile now so yaaaayy—


Desmont uttered an amused snort, followed by a hiccup he had to suck back down his throat before it became a full-blown sob.

The old pistolero gave a nod as he squeezed her a bit closer, letting her hide from him because honestly—he didn’t want her seeing him in the state he…

Desmont stared in a state of suspended awe at the crying girl. He let her talk, no matter how badly he wished to interrupt her an tell her it was all his fault. He let her continue and her broken words made his heart ache and clench.

She didn’t blame him.

That statement eased the stab of guilt that had become his constant companion while he looked for her all those months. But not entirely. He had been wrong to stifle her.

A caged bird; although pretty and safe, was still a prisoner. And he’d sought to protect her from the dangers if the wastes by not letting her make any decisions for herself. Arrogance and paranoid paternal fear dictating his every action.

When Charlie dipped down to hide her face from him he walked backwards, letting her cry in silence before his back hit the wall of the garage. His thin legs trembling and his knees aching as he bore their weight and slid down the rough metal wall till he was sitting on the floor.

He pulled his arm from under her legs and reached up to tuck a few fingers under her chin, lifting her face up so that he could see all the tears and blood. His precious little girl. His Charlie. An arrogant thought still but those feelings were ingrained in his mind.

"Baby girl"

Desmont leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead, then on either of her cheeks. Careful not to brush against the tender flesh too hard.

"I can’t promise that I can do that, but I’ll try damn hard if you’ll stop crying"


Desmont had gotten her inside and had explained the situation to Old Lady Gibson. She was a kind old gal, despite their bickering she’d gone to set up a cot for the beaten girl while Desmont stood awkwardly in the middle of the garage. Holding Charlie tightly to his chest…

Desmont uttered an amused snort, followed by a hiccup he had to suck back down his throat before it became a full-blown sob.

The old pistolero gave a nod as he squeezed her a bit closer, letting her hide from him because honestly—he didn’t want her seeing him in the state he was in.

"Whose to say I didn’t? Maybe I did cause it made me all sanitized.And clean scares away raiders"

Desmont laughed a humorless laugh before going silent and bowing his head to bury his face in her hair. As broken as he had been, now a different sort of emotional dam broke and he was professing and apologizing.

Telling her he had failed. Promising he’d never smother her like that again. That he was no better than the Legion, oppressing her individuality because of his own beliefs. He didn’t cry, but he grew desperate as he whispered in her ear how much he loved her.

Desmont Wilson had been broken by loss before and he was too old to let history repeat itself.