palefacethefiend:

The Fiend appeared to be fine after his coughing fit; even the previous tear had dried and scabbed up. He resumed watching the gutting procedure with interest, unbothered by her handling of the gecko’s genitals while he enjoyed his rollie of coyote tobacco. Wastrel’s skill impressed him, while the whole act of gutting provided Paleface with entertainment to keep his mind off his state.

“Animal medicine,” he repeated before one corner of his mouth lifted, and he uttered an amused snort at the new knowledge about the memory stealing drug. “I think the inability to fill in the blanks has caused more trauma than prevented it.” The amusement carried into his teasing words.

However, there was something about the sight of the tribal, covered in the creature’s blood while she held its innards, that stirred some unexpected arousal in the Fiend. But his condition - among other things - prevented excitement from transferring into a physical state. Distractedly, Paleface gave Wastrel a nod, silently agreeing to save questions, and went to take one of the last drags from his diminished smoke. 

“The upset has passed, for the mo…” his heavy-lidded eyes suddenly widened when two previous words suddenly registered. “Wait. Personality change?” he blurted out while his brows lowered to convey worry.

Once again, the Gatekeeper tried to recall the evening he had been attacked, but changes to how he acted under the Ketamine’s influence were lost to his memories… or they weren’t really changes at all. Even so, the Fiend had quickly forgotten her request to answer questions after she was done cleaning the innards.

“What kind of personality change?” he asked with hesitation, clearly unsure about hearing an answer he didn’t want to hear; in the past, the drugs often brought out a more ugly side.

Wastrel paused mid-step as Paleface shot his inquiry her way, she cast a glance over her shoulder with one brow raised as she began adjusting the innards to loop around on of her arms instead of both. “Ah—-Oh! You were quite affectionate” The tribal had to actively fight not to smile; he seemed a bit distressed at the idea of not remembering his mood change.

The blond turned again, heading towards her strewn medical supplies before snatching up a bottle of slightly dirty water. Blood smeared from her fingers onto the clear plastic as she pulled it up and swished it about to spread the silt within about. “Calm and pleasant, and rather out-spoken. I swear you only did a few embarrassing things”

Ok, so maybe she wasn’t done teasing him, but at the very least she wasn’t going to physically assault him for at least three hours—maybe two.

Wastrel shifted the dangling organs again as she made her way back to the doorway that led out into the open area. She wasn’t keen on cleaning the intestines out inside his home. “I’ll be right back I swear, just be patient and I’ll answer every question”

(( Ruffled, tired looking Wastrel. Her nose is a bit bigger than I intended but oh well! Fun times!))

Name: Mjolnir

Age: 17

Gender: Male

thehuntsmanofthewaste:

immunelydia:

send me a pair name and I’ll tell you what I think it would be like if they had a child.

• Name:
• Gender:
• General Appearance:
• Personality:
• Special Talents:
• Who they like better:
• Who they take after more:
• Personal Head canon:

Gonna bring this back up

travelinginthewastes:

Charlie slept for a long time.  Sleep.  Something she has needed so dearly.  In such a bad time too, having been found out by one person she has been trying to avoid.  Which made her feel horrible.  Absolutely terrible.  

She would shift uncomfortably often.  Sometimes muttering a few things.  Most of it was incoherent.  It would be difficult to figure out what any of it meant.

Eventually she did wake up.  But her eyes did not open.  They were closed shut, for she did not want to face him like this.

Her sudden complete quietness and diminishing signs of unrest would make it clear that she was indeed awake.

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 and staring down at her bloodied face.

A soft expression covered his puffy, tear streaked features.as he watched her dream her fitful dreams. And yes he realized when she’d woken up, her breathing changing and her body going a little stiff. He let her do as she liked, just admiring her as the wonder he believed she was.

palefacethefiend:

The Fiend barely batted an eye at where she chose to start butchering the gecko, curious to observe the method she’d been taught. It was different from his own; he preferred to get his knife in the soft underside of their jaw then work his way down, slicing through the scales that got in his way. 

Lazily, he took a drag from the rolled cigarette, holding the smoke in lungs as he flicked away the ash collecting at the end. 

And then Wastrel posed her question.

While he wasn’t the most picky man in the world, there were parts of any carcass he refused to sample. And being offered a gecko penis was the last thing he expected. The surprise made him cough and unceremoniously expel the smoke from his lungs. It took Paleface a moment to calm his coughing, the action jarring his aching form somewhat. But as soon as he could, he spoke.

“No,” he wheezed, clearing his throat afterwards as the coughing fit had dislodged some phlegm from his throat; he spat it away from the territory he claimed in the corner of the ruined building.

“No,” he repeated, curling his upper lip ever so slightly. “I see no benefit from eating… that.” Rather than say the word, pale eyes settled on the spot where her knife first pierced before travelling to the sight of guts. For whatever reason, this got him thinking.

Previous activities had thoroughly distracted him from the blank spots in his memory, and while the display before him now was certainly captivating, his thoughts were able to wander more freely, and recollect the pondering he did in her absence, and while he constructed the bracelet.

“The chem you gave me. It is the reason why I am unable to recall everything, yes?”

Wastrel gave him a thoughtful look before turning back to her work. She’d offered up a small smile when he had choked on her question, but she kept a wary eye on him during the fit in case it bothered any of his delicate stitches. The tribal remained closed lip for a few minutes; she plucked the knife from the throat of the carcass before stabbing it down into the origin of her cut.

Her free hand was shoved deep into the bloody cavern, pushing the clumsy intestines out of her way before grasping hard on the flaccid length of the creatures internal genitals. With a wrenching of her knife wielding hand she severed the base and pulled out the phallus and the small seminal ducts and ureters. The rectum came with it, which wasn’t nearly as messy as it could have been if she had been less careful.

“Yes, it has the capability of causing minor amnesia, it used to be used in animal medicines, and it would prevent trauma for the animals being worked on—-I do apologize, I was in a hurry to get you medicated and fixed up, I did not truly consider your memory loss or personality change”

Twisting off the base of the rectum, the tribal removed all manner of connective tissue from the organ before slicing it free from the end of the digestive tract. Once this was done she placed the reproductive organ on the ground next to the gecko and began pulling the intestines from the beasts’ bloated belly. Once she reached the stomach and pancreas she tied them off and cut the intestines, twisting the top end of to prevent the remaining waste from spilling all over the edible organs and meat within the beast pleura.

Now with an armful of bloody innards smearing the coppery smelling liquid all over her belly and arms, Wastrel looked at him with a sense of genuine apology. “I am sorry Paleface, if that upsets you” Hefting up a wayward loop of innard she grunted and pulled it up to prevent it from dragging on the floor.

“Give me a moment, I will answer whatever question you like but I must clean these”

travelinginthewastes:

Charlie didn’t expect him to pull her up and it definitely startled her quite a lot.  She was impressed with his ability to carry her that way in such a state.  He was intoxicated and weepy yet still as capable as she remembered.  Still the same person.  Which made it a lot easier to accept the fact that he was carrying her at all.

She was still plagued with guilt though.  And many other feelings.  Of all the ways they could have reunited, this was the last thing on her list.  But it was all too familiar.  The same situation has happened before.  Almost exactly.

She was covered in injuries and was being carried away by Desmont a second time.

Of course, this time was far far better than the last.  Hardly something she would write off as horrible had she been by herself.  But it reminded her too much of that day.

Charlie rested her head on him and let herself pass out.  It was so easy with him around.  Too easy.

Desmont was tense until he felt Charlie go limp in his arms, the dead weight was a bit difficult for his tired, jelly-like arms but he was determined. He marched across the shattered concrete heading towards Helios One, to his credit he only stumbled every other step and managed to swallow the liquid vomit that tumbled up his throat.

He wouldn’t puke on Charlie, and he wouldn’t drop her. Though he did have a hard time not crying. As hard and rough as the pistolero was; he’d always been a hopeless cry baby. Emotions were always on the surface with Desmont and when it came to Charlie, months of worry and self-loathing spilled out of him in choked sobs or the quiet shaking of his shoulders as he tried not to get snot and tears on the slumbering woman.

A large dog greeted them as they approached the Gibson Junkyard. It did not growl, nor did it wag its tail; a silent reminder that if trouble was caused, trouble would be returned via teeth and claws. Desmont; however, had no desire to do anything but get Charlie inside on one of those old cots he knew the old biddy had stashed in her garage.

palefacethefiend:

The snort, and faint but lingering smile conveyed his amusement at her comment, “That paints an interesting picture.”

The Fiend was content to watch her work; to him, it was a form of entertainment mixed with a sort of envy. The man was no stranger to the practice of gutting prey, and almost longed to participate; to occupy his hands with something other than making jewelry. He could only hope that his injuries weren’t too aggravated from before, for the sooner he regained the ability to walk by himself, the better.

But for now, he’d have to content himself by taking on a vicarious position when it came to cleaning their future meal. That is, if he could stay awake for the whole show. While Wastrel’s jogging, and methods of unsheathing her blade were certainly attention-catching, and he longed to feast on the gecko, it seemed that letting himself lay down signaled to his body that napping wasn’t a bad idea.

Paleface was quick to nod his approval to her methods, however. “Wise tactics,” he said before a large yawn interrupted him, then his brow creased with faint displeasure. Once again, he was reaching for his satchel, but not for more pills. Instead, he withdrew an old tin that once housed cigarettes in pre-war days. Now, it was home to a matchbook, and a couple neatly rolled cigarettes.

He placed one between his lips before striking a match on the back of matchbook. A small flame flared to life, but once it lit the rollie, it was soon extinguished with a shake of a the wrist. The scent of coyote tobacco, mingled with sulphur, wafted from the tent as he exhaled a puff of smoke; he hoped for that dose of alertness the dried plant often granted him with.

Wastrel just gave another shrug before she put the handle of the blade between her teeth. Biting down hard, she hefted up the gecko by its tail, straddling its belly while she adjusted her hold on it. Once she was sure her hand would not slip off the scaly carcass, she began pulling the tail upward until the back end of the gecko was up off the ground.

The young tribal squinted as her free hand slid down the center of the tail before reaching a slit near the base. Once found she reached up and pluck the gutting knife from her mouth before plunging it into the slit and jerking it down with a loud, cartilage based ‘pop’.  One of the legs of the corpse went limp and rolled back, disconnected from the pelvis as Wastrel jerked her wrist and twisted the blade about in the creatures cloaca.

“Eugh, it’s a male. I am assuming you don’t want me to prepare the genitals for consumption?” She looked back over at the smoking fiend as she continued on gutting the creature by moving out of her straddle position to kneel next to the gecko. She didn’t even pause as she looked down from Paleface one moment, jerked the blade one way while pulling the gecko by the base of its tail by the other.

A ‘schlucking’ sound filled the semi-silence as innards blossomed out of the long vertical cut, a stark deep red in comparison to the off-white belly scales of the carcass. Wastrel seemed entranced for a moment before jerking the knife the rest of the way up to the animals solar plexis. “I can save it, if you don’t care—- Some people don’t like to eat the throw-away bits”

(( Unfortunately, I am not sure if I can participate in April Fools AU. Even if I would love to. I have work all day tomorrow and probably won’t be able to do much.

I promise to love on all the stuff you guys do though! Have fun! I love you all!))