AUs and Art

Occassionally things might slide towards NSFW territory, and, in general, there will be het, m/m, and f/f drawings here. Please do not borrow/use any of my work without asking first. You can find me several places around the Internet: DeviantArt, LiveJournal, AO3 Art Tag, Fan Art Tag

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Wasteland Wanderer 

historymiss:

thesilverfeatheredraven:

The place is small and dirty, an old gas station on the outskirts of town converted into a bar. The alcohol is harsh and burns all the way down. Basja’s pretty certain it’s toxic enough to kill all the nasty things probably stuck to the glasses that they’re served in. No matter how hard someone tries to clean them, they never are.

Nothing is ever clean out in the wasteland.

She comes back in the evening, after a day out in the waste, pack laden with choice cuts of gecko meat. Basja doesn’t like gecko meat herself, but the few inhabitants of the little town the gas station is a part of do, and if she’s going to run around clearing the countryside of the pests she might as well put their carcasses to some use.

Basja walks in, and stops.

There’s someone in her seat.

There are only a few things that Basja likes that she can still have, the wasteland having claimed everything else, and that seat is one of them.

“Hey,” she says, striding over and dropping her pack on what serves as the bar. Gecko blood seeping through the canvas smears across the counter. “You’re in my seat.”

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Over the next few days, they travel. It’s early summer, and the normally hot Wasteland is getting even hotter. Skuld is baking in her armor, and she is pretty certain that Basja - in her far heavier armor - has to be much more uncomfortable.

The woman doesn’t complain, though.

Skuld’s still not quite sure what to think about her, but she’s a good shot, which at last confirms what she had been told. She’d been looking for someone to travel with her, and while Barbas was decent protection, she had figured a mercenary at her back would be good. Especially since, knowing Erik, they would probably find him in Cazador country and they would have to fight their way.

But Basja can handle herself with a shotgun and shoots down enemies with a ruthless efficiency, and if she doesn’t smile that often then that’s something Skuld can deal with.

It would be nice if she’d laugh at some of her jokes, though.

Then again, from what Skuld has heard happened to the Companions, she supposes Basja doesn’t have all that much to laugh about.

They keep mostly to the road as they travel, though Basja leads them all into the hills to circumvent Powder Ganger camps as best they can.

“No sense getting shot,” she says, and doesn’t explain anymore than that. Skuld’s had her own problems with Powder Gangers from time to time, but they generally leave her alone if she does the same to them.

They camp one night just off the road in an abandoned trailer. Someone’s used it before, though not for awhile - there are dirty mattresses on the ground and shredded boxes of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes. Barbas noses at these as Skuld settles herself down.

“I’ll take first watch,” Basja tells her, and Skuld wonders if the woman sleeps at all, but then decides that she doesn’t really care too much. More time for her to sleep.

Partway into the night, though, she wakes up to Barbas barking loudly and awful skittering sounds outside. She grabs at her rifle - the power pack is charged and ready to go - and throws herself to the edge of the trailer, back against the wall as she peers around the edge.

Geckos, right there, a dead one sprawled right before the door, and Barbas is growling and gnawing at it, dragging it away. For a moment, she doesn’t see Basja.

And then she does. There’s a loud crack and a flash of light and then a gecko collides with the side of the trailer, making Skuld jump. It’s dark out, but she can see just enough to see that Basja isn’t using her shotgun but is, instead, going after the geckos using her fists.

It’s just the slightest bit frightening.

Skuld shoots a few of the geckos around the larger woman, and when they are all on the ground Basja comes walking back to trailer. The light from Skuld’s Pip-Boy illuminates her face and she can see gecko blood smeared over her cheekbones.

“I think we got them all,” she says, and Skuld just sort of shakes her head.

“You…punched them.”

Basja gives her a quizzical look, then glances down at her hand. She raises it a bit; it’s nearly encased in metal, blood both fresh and dried caught in the grooves. “Yeah,” she says. “I did.”