with every boothill that slides in to tease ratio he loses another year off his life
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What the fuck do you mean you're a simp for OSWALDO SCHNEIDER
I SIMPLY HOPED HE WASN'T HOT BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT HOYO IS LIKE OKAY LOOK AT MR ZANDICK
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mother? 🥹 /gets shot
In a gesture that is wholly second nature though it has been years since he's had the opportunity, Neuvillette pulls a handkerchief from his pockets and strolls forward. He reaches up and pulls his child down to an appropriate height and begins rubbing the smudge of dirt from Boothill's cheek. "There's a meal within though you'll have to change into fresher clothes first, your current garments are filthy. Come on, your father and I have missed you."
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@duelmarks & @sagnaevi MUNDAY. / NO LONGER ACCEPTING.
♒ Thoughts on the fandom you're currently rping in?
ANSWER <3
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@duelmarks | starter call.
a wanted criminal sought after by the ipc, how peculiar. much as the position of an intelligentsia guild member was wont to align with that of the ipc, he was no bounty hunter, nor invested enough in the preservation's liberally labelled followers to actively pursue those that wish to harm it— unless tasked to do so, perhaps. his head canted slightly as he fixed the other with an inquisitive glance. ❛ who are you pursuing now, gunslinger ? ❜
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5. What's the best thing about the fandom?
this may be a cop out answer - but the differences in portrayals and headcanons. that is the beauty of rp and fandom. and while i have seen a lot of people get pissy with one another because someone elses headcanon doesn't align with theirs, i really think the unique differences between similar characters, the unique takes on plots and plot points - and the sheer creativity, is what makes me love the HSR fandom so much.
i have been here since day one (and so have u robin), and i have really loved watching it grow - watching people interpret what the story throws at us, or try their hands at new and old muses. it's just so fun to see and i love reading people's headcanons and takes on things!
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@duelmarks : 📜📜 One for Bladie and one for Acheron pls 🙏🏼
send in 📜 for an incorrect quote for our muses / accepting.
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"If it were not for the fact that those damned cowboys had metal fingers, I'd have bitten them off for touching me."
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❝ Thought ya might appreciate this li'l one — a fine addition for your collection. ❞ㅤHands him this rubber duck without elaborating any further.
⸻ he glances to the proffered , palm — sized rubber duck. eyes flit , from the trinket in hand to the outlaw. to and fro , to and fro. the resemblance is . . . uncanny. which seems to be a shared view , considering the glint in the galaxy ranger’s sniper scope pupils. ❝ you’re handing this freely ? is this supposed to be a token of appreciation ? there is no need , it is part of my duties. ❞ then he squeezes , compressing the material of the toy. before it bounces back. ❝ however , i will take this off your hands . . . out of politeness. ❞ hm. now what to name him ?
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@duelmarks, starter.
a small kit filled with various tools lays within reach. the swordsman carefully fiddles with boothill's wrist, utilizing the knowledge gained in his past when he worked as an artisan to fix the mechanical part. " .. you never told me how you broke it. "
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@duelmarks MEME. I ACCEPTING.
👍 You’re doing great! Keep it up!
👌 Your character portrayal is amazing.
☺ I love our muses’ relationship!
I am so flattered you think so, dear! Just know that I feel the same about your portrayal of Bootie <3 I always get so happy seeing you on my dash! And yes! I love our muses' relationship too, they just make me smile and feel so excited to see, what comes next. c:
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Auction #7 @gemkun 's winner is...
@defiedlife ( 100,000 credits ! )
Auction #8 @duelmarks 's winner is...
@rosenpiety ( 100,000 credits ! )
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@duelmarks sent a message [ . . . ] What initially began as gentle, tender kisses meant to coax Sunday out of his sullen state, each one a whispered reassurance of ❝ 's alright ❞, eventually — and wholly unintentionally — turned into something altogether more fervent. His hands began to wander, trailing down the other's body and at one point sneaking beneath his clothes to trace along the Halovian's svelte form, the chill of Boothill's touch contrasting with the warmth of skin. Gradually his kisses grew hungry, a hunger that seemed insatiable, teeth grazing Sunday's lower lip with a fervor not unlike a prayer. Whatever melancholy enveloped the room prior found itself eclipsed, if only for a moment, by the heat between them. When next their lips part, the gunslinger's words were more akin to a growl of his lover's name, the air exhaled between them coming out hot and heavy in the same breath he urges him back onto the bed. ❝ Sunday — ❞
ㅤㅤㅤ𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 with his mind swirling - a miasma of thoughts and discord and agony only numbed when the pain had taken him under. questions of why, and how, and then the repeated mantras of no, no, no playing through his mind like an overture - a symphony of musical pain that left him bare and ripe for the taking. where had he gone so wrong? what such earnestness had led him down a path to earn even a look of horror from his sweet sister? when had he strayed so far? and why - why was he still so terribly lonely? eventually, swirling thoughts had eased into emptiness, and the heart wrenching static of loneliness had become assuaged - at least for a time, by the ranger's appearance.
ㅤㅤㅤhe was empty, terribly empty. in this dark dank room, where physical wounds had healed under what aeon's gaze he did not know ( for sunday would not look inward - he would not call to either of THEM - as what aeon would look to such a sinner, to such a failure ), he beholds boothill with a tarnished gold gaze cracked with... something.
ㅤㅤㅤhe's glad to speak like this - or not really speak at all. the physical touch earns a bubbling noise of barely concealed emotional pain, the murmured words the heat of tears in his eyes, and he'd leaned into that kiss with aching want - desperation, tragic recourse. lips part beneath a sweeping tongue, gloved hands finding strong shoulders. sunday kisses him like he needs no air to breathe, fully consumptive, frustrated, fighting boothill until teeth graze his lower lip and he sighs. warmth edges through him, curling in his core - and gone is the static, replaced instead by heated desire.
ㅤㅤㅤmelancholy dashed, if only for a moment, angel stumbles backwards - grace long since banished. he falls back, onto the rickety mattress, the raven wings that had been secure about his abdomen falling free, draping across blue bedding in feathered resplendence. he reaches out then, finger curling through a belt loop, before tugging boothill down, and cupping lightly at his cheek. their faces linger near, kiss stained and sunday... sunday is vulnerable, long lashes damp with unshed tears, alabaster skin flush, and lips tinted with their actions. he stares into boothill's own gaze, before winding his arms tightly around him, and banishing that purveying loneliness with another desperate kiss.
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@duelmarks: [ COVER ]: while hiding from persecutors, sender pushes the receiver against a wall and uses their body to hide the receiver’s face from view. 😌 ( i lost the meme prompt rip... )
it's not the first, nor the last time he'll be chased like this.
usually, there's a lot more of build-up involved. there's investigations, intel to be obtained, and then a secret remote location that Kaeya can find a way to access, a piece of history left a little too unguarded. his escape is smoother, an illusion cast in place as he makes his way out and away from the planet and lays low, trying not to cause too much trouble. this time, however, it's different.
it's a mixture of them both being kind of outlaws, actually. oh, and about Kaeya being in a bit of a running predicament to properly shroud his own, past presence on the planet. it's very probably a combination of both, really.
it goes from him meeting a familiar face and preparing to enjoy a nice, chill afternoon in a tavern on Aeons-know-where, and it ends with them pressing against the wall of an alley, hiding from an herd that would like very little else than to scalp them both.
and by pressing, he thinks that they may fuse with the wall if they keep this up. he's squished, a long strand of his own hair in his mouth in the frenzy of escaping and his chest heaving with a pant- but he's unharmed, and most importantly, it seems that Boothill is doing his absolute best to protect him.
which is... well, it's nice. Kaeya wouldn't have faulted him for ditching his company for a quick escape- nor he would have held it against him. banes of being an outlaw means that he should be ready to make a quick run when needed without unnecessary baggage... people included.
( Kaeya doesn't know if to extend his thanks or ask him why. )
all that he does is look up at the face of his helper, and for the first time they're in such close proximity to notice the aiming mark in his pupils- just how intricate an iris can be, and the body pressed against Kaeya's one. his fingers seem to have unconsciously found over Boothill's jacket, digits digging into the leather as if he was suddendly caught in a bout of nervousness and his hand needed purchase.
he's never been this close to someone before. the lack of warmth in the metal means nothing- he thinks it's silly for his face to heat up at this moment: it's clearly a necessary step to avoid bloodshed or capture... or both. being arrested would be inconvenient, wouldn't it?
the fluster, however, is quickly taken away when the crowd chasing the duo passes right over the alley- and completely forget to even glance in the direction of the tall cybord hiding the guy with the very cobalt, very noticeable hairstyle.
there's a minute of stunned silence, before Kaeya blinks twice and blows hair out of his mouth, speaking in a whisper that carries the ghost of a laugh.
' i can't believe that worked! ' he's tempted to snicker, with their faces still close as he's biting back a smile. ' they just didn't noticed us at all! it's like straight out of a cartoon where a person flattens like a sheet of paper and slips between the very small space of two buildings, and... '
he trails off, blinking back up at his companion, meeting his eyes for a small moment before averting pale diamond away.
' sorry about that. that was definitely on me- i.. can offer you a drink somewhere else where this won't happen again?... maybe? '
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@duelmarks : messy for the vampire prompts. 👀
messy: your muse catches my muse cleaning up after a kill.
the hunger is like wading through endless fog without purpose or direction. he is lost within his own mind, trying to find clarity until it is too late. the burning inside of him is satiated but the cost of it is always too steep. ren finds his way out of the fog and finds himself surrounded by death.
his lips are still warm with the fresh blood which stains them but everything else is cold. the bodies are cold. the howling wind is cold. he is cold. the boiling heat of bloodlust leaves nothing but cold in its wake. truly, it never does ren any good to starve himself.
tongue darts out to lick at the blood on his lips and then on his fingers in an attempt to clean himself of a messy meal. meanwhile he's surveying his kill -- two people, perhaps a couple, taking a nightly stroll. at least one does not have to live without the other.
it's then that he hears it; the boots hitting pavement coupled with the jingle of spurs. he turns towards the noise far too late, still in a drunken stupor from his meal. crimson eyes narrow as he suddenly finds himself staring down the barrel of a gun.
" you're quick on the draw, hunter. but i just ate; you won't be fast enough. "
vampire prompts for bladie / accepting.
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