❝ 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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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 sent a message [ . . . ] Playfully bites Robin's cheek. 😇
ㅤㅤㅤ𝐚 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫, sonorous and pretty - tinged with surprise and songstresses typically lovely tones. downy wings flutter at the side of her head - the one nearest to the cowboy playfully thwacking his face in return, at the same time her body bends both away and towards him, giggling all the while. hand - covered in delicate lace glove, presses lightly to metal chest as she laughs and laughs, those lovely wings twitching with the effort to keep up with her jubilance. oh, it is a righteous sort of joy - so pleasant that momentary bars of gold and iridescence erupt around them - a by product of emanator born power that her friend brings forth with his carefree antics.
ㅤㅤㅤ❝ jesse! ❞ she chides, finally managing to wriggle free from the playful (and harmless) grasp of dagger teeth. lace gloved thumb raises, pulling his lip back away from said teeth with little preamble and giving something akin to a dainty snort, ❝ look at that - now i have to redo some of my makeup. tsk tsk. ❞ and yet joyful gleam finds starlet's eyes at the same moment one of her many iridescent songbirds finds his shoulder, and promptly bites his cheek in return.
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Auction #8 presents;
Galaxy Ranger Boothill (@duelmarks)
offering the lucky winner a whole day spent with the infamous marksman.
Interact with this post to place your bids in-character! Reply, reblog, whichever you prefer! Whoever places the highest bid within 24h officially wins.
Main Post & FAQ
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https://www.tumblr.com/duelmarks/752273091938385920/im-going-insane-right-now-actually
f..farmhand Boothill visualizer p2…
YESSSSSS ! ! these artists are really fueling the brain rot like i fear i’m never going to get over farmhand boothill
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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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Explain this.
⸻ ❝ there are plenty of ❛ dr. ratio's ❜ out there. you need to be specific , as i have expressed to you before. were you unaware of my first name ? all this time ? and yet , you never asked. what have i told you about ignorance , hm ? ❞
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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' Boothill mistaking a pregnancy test stick for a Covid test stick is canon
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@duelmarks said : ❝ Hey doc, I had a fine idea — what if my next mod ain't just any ol' thing but an in-built music player? Y'know, like those gadgets folks carry around, but right there in my chassis. Just picture it, ridin' along with them tunes playin' right from within! ❞ // attacks Ratio
⸻ whenever the cyborg comes prancing along to his refuge of sanctitude , it can only lead to the brewing of a catastrophic storm. by the whip lashed to his waist or as a result of other measures , is a scenario the doctor does not wish to examine. nor , realise the dormant inevitability.
for now , the request remains guileless enough , though hardly anything can be ruled out when it orbits the gunslinger. since — by and large — repercussions move with him in every stride , sowing disasters in his very wake. leaving the scholar to deal with the troublesome aftermath , should calamity befall unsuspecting victims.
legs cross in his sat posture , addressing the consumer amidst the process of ordering an impromptu alteration. ❝ i would not waste my imagination on your trivial proposition. ❞ latched along ebony , his fingers drum against the arm of his chair , as if in deep thought — ruminating on this harmless but unnecessary adjustment.
pitched , his chin tilts , caught by an index and thumb whereupon he rests to mull over the outcome. ❝ this isn’t an attempt to bypass the capabilities of the synesthesia beacon , is it ? ❞ of course , the mundanite knows the dilemma associated with the revolutionary advancement. that pressing complication , by no means , indicates he has any intention of restoring it.
❝ besides , i dread the arrangements you would play. ❞
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@duelmarks said : Scrimches dwegun.
⸻ if he hadn't seen mechanical digits , inching towards his stationed figure — he may have tensed under the intrusion of chilled pads. he does not , though , when eyes catch the execution beginning to play out , and observe the intention emanating off the gunslinger. instead , his expression remains as placid as it had been , with no shift other than the crease of lids. narrowing a gaze that questions the reason behind this sudden choice of interaction.
❝ what do you think you're doing ? ❞
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@duelmarks said : " Veri ~ "
⸻ he pelts his writing implement , with a calculated velocity — at the rusted tin can. exerting just enough force , to send the cyborg toppling back. and should he end up disassembled upon his floorboards , the scholar has every capacity to restore him.
well , eventually anyway.
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@duelmarks commented : he'd tease him by flirting and blowing a kiss because he knows Ratio will be grumpy over it 💀
⸻ ah , but to this cyborg’s chagrin , veritas had anticipated this turn of events. which is precisely why when configuring his wiring , he mismatches the ports to fire an unpleasant spark. ❝ oh , i apologise. that must have been quite a shock. ❞ fending off the urge to emphasise his clear amusement , he steels his schooled expression. ❝ it isn’t like i preface every appointment that my undivided attention is a necessity during your check — ups , nor that i am not liable for any faults due to your mischievous conduct. ❞
slotting the rightful components into place , he leans back to meet the gunslinger , evening their line of vision. ❝ now unless you want inexperienced hands tampering with your innards , you had best exercise professionalism in my laboratory. ❞
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@duelmarks said : do u like robots b honest 👉🏼👈🏼
⸻ ❝ ❛ like ❜ is a polysemantic. before i bestow you with my answer , you’ll need to refine your question. that shouldn’t be too much to handle , no ? perhaps i should update your processing unit. ❞
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@duelmarks said :
❝ Alright, doc, let me paint you a clearer picture : do you get all hot under the collar when those engines start purrin'? Maybe you take a shine to the way that metal gleams, all sleek and smooth, or their cuttin'-edge innovation — perhaps you're even one of those peculiar type that gets a thrill from takin' them apart, who knows. Ain't no judgin' here, but a man's gotta wonder. You wouldn't be the first with a hankerin' for robots. ❞ // looks at my own two stupid hands for typing this out so seriously
⸻ his expression somehow manages to morph more and more into utter repulsion , with each passing second , as boothill lists off this ridiculous set. how imaginative. his students may even benefit from listening to this outlandish usage of imagery — involving the five sensory senses : tactile , olfactory , visual , auditory and gustatory. though , perhaps not the latter.
❝ i suppose commendation is in order , for executing what i required of you. now , as for what you covet — ❞ unperturbed , his countenance reroutes to its origin. remaining as impartial as his debates. ❝ — you deliberately tailored your descriptors to inspire a proclivity , spurred by your utilisation of words that leaned into gratification. ❞ but the hot — headed gunslinger was prone to being biased. that was a given.
so , to correct this abhorrent error. he must educate him. and how better than to make him aware of his obvious and blaring flaws in his argument ?
❝ revise your points again , and enlighten me when it is objective and factual. ❞
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