#* ✦ duelmarks

[gemkun]

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

[inundatae]

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."

[iiryoku]

@duelmarks & @sagnaevi MUNDAY. / NO LONGER ACCEPTING.

♒ Thoughts on the fandom you're currently rping in?

ANSWER <3

[pantachorei]

@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 ?   ❜

[wingspiked]

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!  

[finalism]

@duelmarks : 📜📜 One for Bladie and one for Acheron pls 🙏🏼

send in 📜 for an incorrect quote for our muses / accepting.

[stagehunt]

✧･ﾟ @duelmarks sent: 📜 / incorrect quotes generator, accepting.

[ccaptain]

@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? '

[araneitela]

12. What would you say is the most unique trait about your character?

@duelmarks // Prompt: Canon Questionnaire. // Accepting

12. What would you say is the most unique trait about your character? Her lack of fear, and the level in which it affects her overall psychology. But this also brings up a bit of a salty topic for me, because I just don't think it's as simple as saying that her lack of fear reduces her overall emotional engagement, but this seems to be one of the aspects of her character that I seem to differ in the most in terms of fanon and even (respectfully) other portrayals. But I'll try to not really salt too much in response to this! I just need to touch on it a little, because it's where I think I can make it clearest what I mean: I don't firmly believe that her lack of fear overall reduces her ability to feel, or experience what it means to be... inherently alive through more positive emotions. I've touched on this in a previous ask (and posts) already, but Kafka inherently shows active emotional investment in at least two other people (three, but SW is different), and not by any small amount whatsoever. This to me shows that she possesses a level of empathy, or compassion, and dare I say that those two concepts directly tie into the reality of affection and thus the importance of another in correlation to herself. If she lacked any ability to feel or even less so in comparison to others, then I don't think her SQ should hit as hard as it does when you really look at what's happening. As much as we learn a lot of truths about her (or otherwise) through her game, we arguably learn even more by simply looking what she's doing for at least two other people. Any way, I digress; I think her lack of fear is incredibly unique, but even more so, because it doesn't seem to reduce all other emotional engagement.

[lunaetis]

@duelmarks asked :

[  play  ]  muses  play  a  board  game  /  card  game  together // @ Eden!

nonverbal  meme  prompts. || accepting

─「エデン」─  the TRAILBLAZER was never someone who would back down from a challenge. that stubborn side of hers had proven both beneficial and troublesome depending on the circumstances, however, one could say with high probability that if you presented a challenge, whether it was a game or a dare, literally ANYTHING at all, eden would most likely accept.

                and that was how the two had ended up facing one another with a table in between them, hands holding cards while eyes flicked between their opponent and the scattered cards upon the sleek surface.

                he was difficult to read, that was the CONCLUSION the stellaron vessel had drawn after spending the past hour analyzing his every movement, attempting to predict what sort of move he was going to make and prepare her counter. he didn't give MUCH for her to work with. silvery hues with deep crimson pupils in such a unique shape. eden narrowed her own amber optics, barely shifting from where she was as her line of vision tracked him.

                " you're quite an opponent, i'll give you that. " voice low, revealing little to nothing from her side as she knew he was also studying her. " however — " gloved digits traced the edges of her cards, tracing the smooth touch before, after a long consideration, plucking one off the selection she had panned on her hands. " as the name suggested ... to win, you have to show 'em no mercy. "

                with that, she placed her card on the table. the ABYSSAL BLACK of the background contrasting the colorful prints on top. the mark of 10+ reflected the light above them. she smirked.

                " draw 10. let's go, cowboy. "

[gemkun]

❝ 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   ?

[krlowea]

📜📜 for Robin and Aventurine maybe? 👀

INCORRECT QUOTES by Robin and Aventurine ( feat. @duelmarks )

[iiryoku]

@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:

[pantachorei]

Auction #7 @gemkun 's winner is...

@defiedlife ( 100,000 credits ! )

Auction #8 @duelmarks 's winner is...

@rosenpiety ( 100,000 credits ! )

[wingspiked]

@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.

[finalism]

@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.