Eva_Lessend
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Boothill tips his head back against the fence post. His hat is … somewhere. Probably still in the IPC mining compound, right there with half his right hand and a couple pints of oil and cooling fluid. His next sigh is wet, speaks to something he can’t fix out here in the sticks. At least it’s pretty, fireflies rising like sparks over the ridge.
There’s a wolf at the edge of the trees, silhouetted against the bleeding sky. The dusky light catches on its eyes, dark with a hunger that has Boothill reaching for his gun with the arm that still works.
Bookmarked by Eva_Lessend
16 Jun 2026
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Когда ваша диссертация на грани смерти, флиртуйте с научруком.
Bookmarked by Eva_Lessend
15 Jun 2026
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A keen nose has been following a scent for miles. A scent to die for. Tongue on muzzle. Frothy drool drips. And finally, after hours of hunting, he's close enough to see the source: a tall, wide-framed two-leg. Blonde fur. Curly. Sweat-dampened rags on his body. God. So good. It's a heady, thick fragrance. Not like the synthetic, burning notes they put on themselves most of the time. This is natural. Smelling like a bitch in heat.
(alternatively: curly riding hood meets the big bad wolf, hilarity ensues)
Bookmarked by Eva_Lessend
14 Jun 2026
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cruel, the way you've been treating me lately by wormringers
Fandoms: Mouthwashing (Video Game)
02 Nov 2024
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Curly is helpless, Anya is powerless, and Jimmy just needs to take care of it.
Bookmarked by Eva_Lessend
14 Jun 2026
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“Yeah, ‘m sure Pony Express has the supplies for that.” Jimmy scoffs. He wipes his mouth with his bare wrist. Blood smears over his pale skin and Curly doesn’t stare. He doesn’t. “Fuck. Maybe you should just rip it out.”
Or,
Jimmy gets socked in the jaw, and someone's gotta pick up the pieces.
Bookmarked by Eva_Lessend
14 Jun 2026