#alabonshay

[ethereallyloved]

{starter for @alabonshay feat. Yelvie}

The alien had no idea how they got here but that didn't matter! They were just excited to have discovered something new!

Even if their surroundings may look a little dreary...they couldn't help themselves but to be joyous!

Especially about that lake! Just looking at it and having access to their kin's shared mind library gave them the conclusion that it must be a life giver!

" Yipeee! These beings are safe! "

They spoke outloud to themselves! After all, the Nhemil were a social species that wants to preserve life. So seeing such a thing made them happy! Knowing that this species wasn't going extinct just made them feel a sense of hope they couldn't describe!

Which was all fine and dandy but...they shouldn't be here now should they? They didn't even know where their ship went...

[the-haunted-office]

(A starter for @alabonshay!)

"As Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left."

Stanley has forgotten how many times he's heard those words spoken in that order by that voice. Enough times that he doesn't need to be told to take the door on the left anymore, but the voice still feels the need to tell him. That's just how the Narrator is, though. Omnipresent, though perhaps not omniscient. Controlling, but not in control.

Stanley goes ahead and enters the door on the left, though. He has no reason to deviate this time around. Nothing in his gut telling him to go right instead, or to jump off any platforms, or to head down any dark and ominous corridors. Besides, it's not that he wants to listen to the Narrator this time around or that he has any particular gut feelings. He simply wants to see outside, even knowing it isn't real.

It may be the last time he sees the outside ever again, and in his yearning for freedom, he can't help but take whatever he can get.

"-2845- Stanley, have you even been listening to me? I swear, it's like talking to a wall with you sometimes. I don't know why I even bother."

Stanley presses his lips together and enters in the code behind the boss' desk, although he manages to resist rolling his eyes. He hadn't realized he'd been tuning out the Narrator. Everything is on autopilot this time around, it seems, and most of the time through the Story he doesn't even need to listen to the Narrator to know where he needs to go. It's the same thing every time, so what's the point?

The fireplace swings open, the Narrator drones on, and Stanley continues his march, onward toward the Ending he's reached dozens if not hundreds of times before.

Getting there is the boring part, and as the clank and clang of his shoes echo on the concrete floors and metal catwalks, Stanley begins to tune out the voice in the ceiling again.

The voice in the ceiling notices.

Meanwhile neither of them notices when something goes fantastically... different.

"-Stanley decided that this machinery would never again exert its- Stanley, you're just not listening to me, are you? Here you are, seconds away from your freedom, and you're acting like you're a walking corpse. I might as well be talking to one. I don't know why I bother with you sometimes, if I'm honest."

Stanley gives a small shrug in acknowledgment as he enters the door into the room with the Mind Control machine. He can see the blue glow from the enormous monitor just beyond the door. Here, he'll have to make his choice whether to turn the machine On or Off.

"Well, if you're so content with being dead already why don't you- .....What the HELL is THAT?"

Stanley comes to an abrupt halt, because he sees it too. Something is standing there in front of the controls. Something a lot bigger and bulkier than he is, and better dressed to boot.

Lacking any other reasonable way to respond to this situation, the office worker just stands there. And waves a hello.

[outofthiisworld]

✦˖° @alabonshay sent in: Oi- Ai-! No elbows!" Evergreen glowers at them both from the other side, the unlit cigarette clenched between her teeth. "Skkt-!"

[💜🧪] Oopsie! Doc whipped his head around to see Ophelia, oooh who other than Ophelia, with not only her elbows propped on the door of such a spotlessly shined automobile— but her whole upper body. To get a better look inside, of course!

“Ophelia!” He scolded, all hushed and hissed, like any embarrassed parent. She simply giggled … but … she indeed removed herself from the beauty.

“I’m so sorry about her, we’re still working on the no-touching rule of manners I suppose, ah but-but-but it really is a beaut—”

“I think it’d look better with me in it.” Ophelia cut off her old man, a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye that was nothing but trouble. When did she get on the other side of the car next to Evergreen?! “What do you think?”

Ophelia lit the cigarette with a spark of ectoplasm. Doc pinched the bridge of his nose.

[ironmaidenxsteelheart]

//Some quick n dirty sketches of @monster-and-mayhem and @alabonshay 's muses!!!

[opportunistic-chicanery]

@alabonshay

“What in corroded circuits is the hold up?” Hacker muttered as he pulled the Wreaker’s microphone up to his face. “Get a move on you duncebuckets!” Could his lackluster lackies fail to do something as simple as pull the plug on a ghost site? His finger hovered over the Wreaker’s laser controls, itching to start firing regardless of whether the site was still hooked up.

“We’re trying, boss!” Buzz said through his wrist communicator. “But there’s someone down here.”

[roaming-axe-aa]

@alabonshay

"I've never seen anything like you before.. I'm used to humans.. And they tend to overreact upon seeing me when I dimension travel.." He rubs a claw over the side of his head. "I hope you don't mind my visit..."

[ashes-of-omelas]

@alabonshay

As magic constructs who came from a world within an enchanted painting, Rook and Sparrow find it easier than most to wriggle into magic pocket dimensions. But usually it happens intentionally. It's hard to say how they came to be passengers on the Train. They woke up there one morning (if such a thing as morning exists here), and they've been trying to make sense of their situation ever since.

They have never seen a train before, but they could accept that the space, with its comfortable seating and trundling wheels, must be a form of transportation. There is no question that magic gets mixed up in reality, here: every time the train stops, the outside world is different. The brothers' painting world had an architect, and they can't help but wonder if the train and its strange stops are here thanks to design more than accident. But if anybody created the train and the world it inhabits (or perhaps creates along the way), that entity is unreachable.

A monotone announcer's voice tells them that they are a number of stops away from a special stop, where a wish can be granted. It seems that that's their best bet for getting home, but they don't trust the monotone voice or the train well enough to be content to do nothing as they wait. If they have been caught like a bug in a net, the one holding the net is the last person or entity they should trust. Rather than entirely put their fate in the hands of a hint of a wish, they have determined to travel through the train until they reach the front of it. They may be able to question whoever is driving or piloting it and perhaps convince that person or entity to let them go.

As they make progress forward, they find another absurdity to their situation: the train cars seem to stretch on to infinity. The discovery is disheartening, but they don't have many other options for looking for exits. If they get off at a stop and focus their exploring efforts there, they might give up their chance to interact with the train (and its promise of wishes) at all. Worse, they can't be sure if the stops continue to exist once the train leaves the area. If this dimension had an architect, that architect seems to have designed a world to fit a train, rather than the other way around.

So they keep traveling through the cars. And one day, they find that they're not alone. There's evidence that another person has been using a car as a living space.

They want to meet the other person, but they don't want to startle them. They write a friendly note and take a seat one car back, to wait. The note reads:

Hello. Our names are Sparrow and Rook. We are trapped on this contraption like you are. We would like to meet you, and perhaps we can work together. If that's not okay, we understand. Come and find us in the car that comes before this one. Knock three times on the door if you do not want to meet. We will leave you alone and pass through next time you are out foraging.

Regards,

Sparrow and Rook

[patchworkcowboy-archive]

UPDATED TO DO LIST.

If you don't see your blog on this list just lmk! My notifs have been wonky as of late.

-https://www.tumblr.com/viltrumtraitor/756285637803589632/biting-as-his-remark-is-the-truth-behind-it-is

-https://www.tumblr.com/alabonshay/757011891753254912/patchworkcowboy-the-duchess-alabons%C3%A9-lay-on-the

-https://www.tumblr.com/redemn/757073954612690944/no-funny-business-if-this-were-funny

-https://www.tumblr.com/ceruleanscarred/757381835195138048/youre-not-the-first-to-think-that-actually

-https://www.tumblr.com/radiaking/757620606062739456/cooper-hums-thoughtfully-eyeing-the-bag-of-caps

-https://www.tumblr.com/accultant/757649143784226817/you-seem-familiar-somehow-he-muses-one-hand

[fcrgottn]

What shatters you ?

sorrow.

this world takes and takes, and you cannot understand why... your heart cracks with each loss, and now, you fear it is only held together with fraying strings. perhaps you consider how simpler it would be not to care. but, would your soul allow you to?

Tagged by : @alabonshay

Tagging : steal it from me

[ratfolkconservatory]

•Threads I currently owe a response to:

@alabonshay

@timidlybrave

I am setting up thread tracking on RPThreadtracker soon. Please let me know if you don’t want your thread tracked there!•

[star-conqueror]

Greetings! My name is Kay and I write in the tumblr roleplay community. This is not an RP blog but rather an organizational center for my active blogs.

Current blogroll:

@creativeimpetus || Main blog, worldbuilding project of 4+ years about Victorian-inspired aliens. Find me on cohost as well!

@alabonshay || Fandomless OC RP blog. Features a former inventor turned monstrous being, the figurehead of an ancient aristocracy.

A note: I have portrayed canon muses before, but I discovered I am more inclined to develop/write my own OCs. For the time being, I've decided to retire my canon muses, while I explore more of my original worldbuilding through RP.

I am a 21+ mun and highly-crossover-friendly. If I have RP'd with you through a fandom, I would be glad to write with you again. If we haven't written yet, I look forward to writing with you!

[the-haunted-office]

(A starter for @alabonshay!)

Dorian hadn't meant to make its newest little inhabitant feel trapped when it started closing all the doors in the hallway. It had only meant to herd her away from the rooms it knew were already occupied, thus sparing her from walking in on their occupants and causing a fuss.

Well, it seems a fuss was bound to be caused anyway, because now she's raising her voice and demanding to be let out.

Oh dear. Dorian has to fix this!

"Wait wait wait, hold on there, just a moment, I'm- I'm not- This isn't what it looks like, now!" its panicked voice cries, with no visible source of where it is coming from. If anything, the voice seems to be coming from the air itself. "I'm not holding you captive, ma'am! I'm just- I'm not- There are people in those rooms, right, and quite a few of them are sleeping. And I'm afraid if you were to go right into them, especially shouting like that, you'll wake them, and I really don't want that happening, so if you could just- If you'll just-"

A door opens at the end of the hallway waggling back and forth on its hinges in the hopes of getting the dendie's attention.

"Here! Down here! This door, right here, please! Come on down here, and you'll see that you aren't trapped, now. I wouldn't recommend leaving me, but at least you'll see that you aren't being held captive, and- Oh, bother, that didn't come out right, did it? But- Aw, just, please come this way, miss?"

[outofthiisworld]

. ✦ ݁ ˖ @alabonshay

[🧪] It was easy to lose track of time upon the space colony. Minutes bled into hours and days turned into weeks. Holidays would pass by in a blink of an eye, too— if it weren’t for the occasional reminders of attempted normalcy that both calendars and crew alike would provide. 

The sectors of the colony often had stimulated day and night cycles; an attempt to help keep that cicada rhythm in check for most of the crew aboard. That is, the sectors not hidden in its confidential bowls, past the heavily reinforced security checks and the cold, bolted plates of metal.

All that was offered down here were the occasional viewports, which showed a grand display of the never-ending abyss they floated in, of nebulae and cosmos alike.

Some containment cells were lucky, but very few had such viewports (not since the last integrity incident). TUSK-100’s new cell was not one of the lucky ones. Doc’s communicator beeped earlier that day (was it day? he couldn’t recall); a status update that the colossal beast had been relocated right back into a solitary containment cell.

He hissed a sharp ‘tsk’ at the sight of the notification. What happened now? Doc swallowed the bile twisted and turned in his gut, all while he made his way through the winding corridors and fortified security checks.

TUSK-100 was a … relatively newer ‘experiment.’ One, like many aboard ATLAS, who he oversaw. He’d call it for what it was: a victim— but it’d do one good to keep your mouth shut about all that, lest you find yourself on the other side of those cells.

As Doc approached the matriarch’s containment, he caught sight of another scientist already there, alongside two guards stationed. He recognized the other research (unfortunately), and though their name escaped him, the old doctor had recalled their bestowed nickname from far too many break room spats: Snively.

“UNBELIEVABLE! YOU— YOU WRETCHED GORILLA!” Snively sniveled. Doc rolled his eyes. One could only imagine that behind those helmets: the stationed security did as well. In Snively’s hands were a tattered lab coat, one that they no longer wore as droplets of a familiar venom rendered it to nothing more than a few rags of salvaged cloth.

“What the hell did you do?” Doc barked out and Snively nearly jumped out of their skin! That is, not before the ragged scientist redirected their spitfire at the medical chief.

“I beg your pardon— What I did?! That, that—THING nearly melted the skin right off my bones with its spit!!! And you’re asking what I did!?”

“Yeah, well … with a voice like yours? I would, too.” Doc spat out his own venom, but before Snively could utter out another whine; Doc held out his hand to silence the other. “Now, scram. I’m working.”

Red-faced and mouth agape, any further ranting and raving had died on their tongue, before Snively stormed off (and of course, they ‘accidentally’ bumped into his shoulder on the way out). Doc sighed. Pinched the bridge of his nose and collected himself, before he finally looked over at the green giant on the other side of the containment cell.

“On record … I don’t recommend doing that too often. You’ll piss off the wrong idiot sooner or later and that’ll land you a one-way ticket to an operating table. Off record? That’s fucking hilarious.”

One of the guards side-eyed the doctor, but he said nothing. After a few punches to a keypad on the cell, a hologram of the dendies’ vitals are displayed for Doc to view over.

“So … you wanna tell me what happened?”

[ironmaidenxsteelheart]

Closed Starter | @alabonshay

"This is the last time I'm walking this far, to get you, you know!!" Wannour chided the broken pieces of Sir Imania's body in this fashion many, many months ago.

The first dozen times that her love had died, it was sweet, or made sense, in some way; now, it seemed that every other day Sir Imania (her brave Sir Imania!) was throwing herself into the arms of danger. Which was all fine and good; the more she was able to work on her body, the more lifelike the function was, but the time it took to journey to bring back all its pieces, denote the failures and make improvements, not to mention repair and replacement.... Well, she'd like to be married before they were both old and wrinkled, you know. Not to mention the toll it took on her soul's connection to the world!! That Knight was lucky that her body was stable enough to support this kind of back-and-forth tug-of-war! With that in mind, it was only natural, to try and figure out how to make a door to anywhere, whenever she wished. If the Angels could manage, surely she could figure out the mechanism. That's what she thought, anyways. ~~ At least it sort of worked, since she was anywhere other than her dark, cozy workroom. It hadn't taken her where she wanted, though-- her ratios were off; too few blackberry seeds, not enough cranberry. Maybe she needed to add frog, for distance? Or a lock of hair? Oh, she knows she's close to home, but she's all turned around and there's not a door in sight!! Wannour shoves her way through bramble and underbrush. There aren't nearly so many plants in this part of the woods, and she wracks her brain to remember clearings and thin spots-- there were only so many! She knew the woods well, she ought to know where she was....but what if all the mixture needed was a little more iron? It isn't until she finds a fence that she realizes she may, in fact, have needed less blackberry seeds. There were no fences, around the base of her mountain. This was brilliant!! Wannour was well and truly lost, after all!! She'd simply ask for direction and be on her merry way. Fences were only suggestions, anyhow. She clambers over it, and makes her way to the dense shrubbery blocking her view-- although she'd never seen shrubs with quite so dense a shape. The fastest way out was nearly always through, however, and no plant would be an exception!! Any tears left by branches could be mended later; and she sustains a great many pushing her way from the brush!! She'd expected to find an abode, on the other end. What she hadn't expected was a garden so magnificent and manicured that it seemed nigh-impossible. Was this shaped by human hands? All of the grass was cropped neat and tidy, bushes trimmed up into impossible shapes-- dense, like the hedges!!-- and more distinct kinds of flower than she had ever witnessed, in so close a space, let alone so rigidly planted. It was a drastic shift, from the wildness of the forest beyond the hedges. To say nothing of the massive fort looming above the garden grounds. She might be slightly worried for her safety, were it not for the sense of awe at the sheer coordination everything in sight must have required. It was like no place she'd ever seen or heard of. Wannour stares, frozen in awe, at everything before her. So much wealth, hidden by mere foliage!!

[opportunistic-chicanery]

@alabonshay asked:

!!

SEND ‘!!’ AND I’LL WRITE A PARA DESCRIPTION OF YOUR MUSE FROM MINE’S PERSPECTIVE

"Looks a little like Buzz's hairy cousin. But he insists that they're not related so I guess I'll take his word for it. Honestly, I don't have a clue if she'll be the slightly good to me. We'll just have to see, shall we? Anyways, pretending to be whatever God she assumes I am has been an absolute riot. Would heavily recommend if you find yourself in a position to pull it off."

[creativeimpetus]

I declared I would not post my art here anymore a month or so back, even most of my writing. But if there’s one thing that drew me to tumblr originally it was the existing roleplay community. I’ve been on and off writing characters with people in the tumblr RPC for years, and I haven’t been nearly as successful finding the right genre/audience anywhere else.

I have my reservations about posting big blocks of text online anymore since the rise of generative stuff. But genuinely I have been missing collaborative writing a lot. It’s one of my oldest hobbies… so I have decided to jump back in.

If you’re wondering why the blog has gone so quiet I have been I have been pouring most of my energy into @alabonshay. I prefer notes to be RP only so I can track replies (but you’re welcome to follow if you want to see the old lady in action!)