the-misadventures-of-maybelle - Tumblr blog

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

It’s been 300 years, right down to the day  Now the witch is back and there’s hell to pay…

Hello, Salem, my name’s Winifred, what’s yours?”

Interact for a starter from Winifred Hughes, a Salem Witch who was dragged into The Constant! 

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

LIKE/REBLOG THIS POST FOR A STARTER!!!

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

I’ve been inactive for too long!

With the new findings of the Constant, such as the Eye of the Storm Update, I have found myself slowly getting back into the groove of things! I might actually use this blog again! Hopefully I haven’t lost everyone!

((Kiwi here, I’m terribly sorry for the long ass hiatus! I’m starting to get back into DST after a while since the Eye of the Storm update brought someone back, so I’m starting to get back with this blog! Hopefully y’all haven’t seen the last of me, because I ain’t leaving just yet!))

ALSO!! I HAVE A NEW PHONE AND THIS BLOG MAY GET RENOVATED A BIT?? IM NOT SURE YET. I’LL KEEP Y’ALL UPDATED!

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

So... what's the deal?

So as your minds can probably tell, I haven't been very active on this blog, mainly because I was a bit disappointed. I worked hard on these two starters and they didn't get the attention I wanted, but that's neither here nor there. It doesn't bother me that much honestly.

So... if y'all wanna... like/reblog this for a starter about this picture I drew!

ALSO!!! For some odd and unspecified reason, Tumblr doesn't give me notifications anymore! So if I take a while to respond, that's why!

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

"Wheeler... what's THAT?"

{{ RP Starter }}

Ever since her trip to the ruins, she hadn't returned for... quite some time. Some would assume she finally kicked the bucket with her tedious tendancies. Others were hopeful that she was still alive.

Only few knew where she was going. Were you one of them? We just don't know!

But a week after disappearance, it's night, and you suddenly see something in the distance; something big.

Next to it, a smaller figure. Could it really be?

You race towards the figures with joyous thoughts! Wheeler! Oh, it really is her!

And then, when you approach her...

A small gasp exits your lungs as you questionably ask (or if you're Wes, you sign) "Wheeler? What is that?"

Wheeler smiles proudly and holds up an object, and promptly says, "a Shadow Thurible! Isn't it so cool? Smells like gasoline, though..! Doesn't seem to do much but emit a weird smell"

She doesn't even acknowledge the behemoth behind her, holding her hand like a lost child to a police officer.

Wheeler, you are truly, truly dumb.

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

"Wheeler... what's THAT?"

{{ RP Starter }}

Ever since her trip to the ruins, she hadn't returned for... quite some time. Some would assume she finally kicked the bucket with her tedious tendancies. Others were hopeful that she was still alive.

Only few knew where she was going. Were you one of them? We just don't know!

But a week after disappearance, it's night, and you suddenly see something in the distance; something big.

Next to it, a smaller figure. Could it really be?

You race towards the figures with joyous thoughts! Wheeler! Oh, it really is her!

And then, when you approach her...

A small gasp exits your lungs as you questionably ask (or if you're Wes, you sign) "Wheeler? What is that?"

Wheeler smiles proudly and holds up an object, and promptly says, "a Shadow Thurible! Isn't it so cool? Smells like gasoline, though..! Doesn't seem to do much but emit a weird smell"

She doesn't even acknowledge the behemoth behind her, holding her hand like a lost child to a police officer.

Wheeler, you are truly, truly dumb.

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

Wheeler's Back at it Again!

((So sorry for my disappearance! Not many people have been interacting with my posts, and I've been a very busy mun with school, and a drawing collab! (Actually not DST related!)

I've actually not been roleplaying as much lately, kinda just been working on other things, but I'm back at it again! with the white vans!

Wheeler's open to chat with! And she's excited too, cause adventure is always calling!!))

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

Reblog this if you’re an LGBT+ mun.

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

~Down Deeper~ (Starter)

She knew it was calling. She knew it was calling for her.

Wheeler had tried oh so hard to hush the voices. She tried screaming back at the void when it stared back at her.

To no avail.

They were coming.

They were coming.

As she inched towards the gateway as it lingers awake from the insertion of the key. How she got this key was beyond our knowledge, but she remembers having it at the beginning of her journey. Like a gift!

She was so reluctant to insert the key, but they kept whispering in her ears.

Put it in.

Put the key in.

Awaken him and awaken the comrades.

Who was him? Who were the comrades?

She noticed a dainty, cold figure beside her. It wasn't anything alive, just a skeletal husk, standing on fours with small tiped metatarsals and knuckles with phalanges going inward, two great horns bared on a deer-like head.

Then, she saw something pumping next to it. An atrium.

When she finally succumbed to the voices, she finally inserted the key. An uproar began in the ruins, almost like an earthquake but... not really. More like a storm, like a big, messy, shadowy storm.

And when she thought she was safe, when the storm subsided, she turned around to hear a deep, raspy breath and a sinister voice speak.

"I see you have chosen fate."

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

"...swell."

Wheeler rolls her eyes, but because of the soulless white hue they are, it's hard to tell she does.

"Y' know what? She can be human if she wants. I practically don't care anymore."

She points to Penelope, "you're human," points to herself, "I'm human," then points to Wagstaff, "he's human. There."

@probablyatrashcan liked for a starter, and I chose @voxola-radio!

Wheeler was in a hurry to get more resources for the night. She had had a terrible incoming with a hound at the scorching desert and hadn’t been fully prepared, thus the scratches and tears in her skin on her face, as the hound had actually punched at her face.

With torn skin and a bit of blood dripping down, she felt a bit embarrassed to say the least, for having to approach another camper’s fire during the night because she had no resources of her own to help her out.

She recalled. She had met a few survivors, and now the night was here once again, scuttling like a crab quickly to the sea. But she had gotten so caught up with seeing others that she had forgotten to get the grass that goes along with the little wood she had.

So when she approached the fire, she was met with a familiar face, and was befuddled.

She looked at the camper from afar, trying to reminisce on the figure. Could it really be? From The Hamlet?

“Wait…” she pondered out loud, “no… it can’t be…”

“…Mr. Wagstaff? Is… is that really you?”

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

Wheeler sighs, defeated, "look, I just didn't know what your intentions were. I thought you were hurting my friend, that's all, got me?"

"But." Wheeler finally wriggles out of the grasp, "we are humans. You're a... thing."

@probablyatrashcan liked for a starter, and I chose @voxola-radio!

Wheeler was in a hurry to get more resources for the night. She had had a terrible incoming with a hound at the scorching desert and hadn’t been fully prepared, thus the scratches and tears in her skin on her face, as the hound had actually punched at her face.

With torn skin and a bit of blood dripping down, she felt a bit embarrassed to say the least, for having to approach another camper’s fire during the night because she had no resources of her own to help her out.

She recalled. She had met a few survivors, and now the night was here once again, scuttling like a crab quickly to the sea. But she had gotten so caught up with seeing others that she had forgotten to get the grass that goes along with the little wood she had.

So when she approached the fire, she was met with a familiar face, and was befuddled.

She looked at the camper from afar, trying to reminisce on the figure. Could it really be? From The Hamlet?

“Wait…” she pondered out loud, “no… it can’t be…”

“…Mr. Wagstaff? Is… is that really you?”

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

"What the fu– oookay I didn't agree to this."

"Wagstaff!" She shouts, "get me outta this mess! You don't really expect me to make friends with a monster, right? Not after the Herald!!"

She writhes in the arms of Penelope, trying to scuttle out.

@probablyatrashcan liked for a starter, and I chose @voxola-radio!

Wheeler was in a hurry to get more resources for the night. She had had a terrible incoming with a hound at the scorching desert and hadn’t been fully prepared, thus the scratches and tears in her skin on her face, as the hound had actually punched at her face.

With torn skin and a bit of blood dripping down, she felt a bit embarrassed to say the least, for having to approach another camper’s fire during the night because she had no resources of her own to help her out.

She recalled. She had met a few survivors, and now the night was here once again, scuttling like a crab quickly to the sea. But she had gotten so caught up with seeing others that she had forgotten to get the grass that goes along with the little wood she had.

So when she approached the fire, she was met with a familiar face, and was befuddled.

She looked at the camper from afar, trying to reminisce on the figure. Could it really be? From The Hamlet?

“Wait…” she pondered out loud, “no… it can’t be…”

“…Mr. Wagstaff? Is… is that really you?”

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

"Friend? Why, I just met the thing!" Wheeler snarks.

She had to admit. He was a fearless soul, and on occasions, so was she.

Maybelle looks at the beast, "I... guess I can't hurt you when Wagstaff is here, can I? Be bad manners."

@probablyatrashcan liked for a starter, and I chose @voxola-radio!

Wheeler was in a hurry to get more resources for the night. She had had a terrible incoming with a hound at the scorching desert and hadn’t been fully prepared, thus the scratches and tears in her skin on her face, as the hound had actually punched at her face.

With torn skin and a bit of blood dripping down, she felt a bit embarrassed to say the least, for having to approach another camper’s fire during the night because she had no resources of her own to help her out.

She recalled. She had met a few survivors, and now the night was here once again, scuttling like a crab quickly to the sea. But she had gotten so caught up with seeing others that she had forgotten to get the grass that goes along with the little wood she had.

So when she approached the fire, she was met with a familiar face, and was befuddled.

She looked at the camper from afar, trying to reminisce on the figure. Could it really be? From The Hamlet?

“Wait…” she pondered out loud, “no… it can’t be…”

“…Mr. Wagstaff? Is… is that really you?”

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

"..."

"This... doesn't make any sense. At all. How are you not panicking at this!?"

Wheeler glares at the eleven foot being, "Thulecitian, huh. Weird."

@probablyatrashcan liked for a starter, and I chose @voxola-radio!

Wheeler was in a hurry to get more resources for the night. She had had a terrible incoming with a hound at the scorching desert and hadn’t been fully prepared, thus the scratches and tears in her skin on her face, as the hound had actually punched at her face.

With torn skin and a bit of blood dripping down, she felt a bit embarrassed to say the least, for having to approach another camper’s fire during the night because she had no resources of her own to help her out.

She recalled. She had met a few survivors, and now the night was here once again, scuttling like a crab quickly to the sea. But she had gotten so caught up with seeing others that she had forgotten to get the grass that goes along with the little wood she had.

So when she approached the fire, she was met with a familiar face, and was befuddled.

She looked at the camper from afar, trying to reminisce on the figure. Could it really be? From The Hamlet?

“Wait…” she pondered out loud, “no… it can’t be…”

“…Mr. Wagstaff? Is… is that really you?”

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

Wheeler stays quiet, then puts the airhorn back in her pocket.

"So... Wags. What's going on here?" She jolts her head to the side a little to indicate a point, "and who's this?"

@probablyatrashcan liked for a starter, and I chose @voxola-radio!

Wheeler was in a hurry to get more resources for the night. She had had a terrible incoming with a hound at the scorching desert and hadn’t been fully prepared, thus the scratches and tears in her skin on her face, as the hound had actually punched at her face.

With torn skin and a bit of blood dripping down, she felt a bit embarrassed to say the least, for having to approach another camper’s fire during the night because she had no resources of her own to help her out.

She recalled. She had met a few survivors, and now the night was here once again, scuttling like a crab quickly to the sea. But she had gotten so caught up with seeing others that she had forgotten to get the grass that goes along with the little wood she had.

So when she approached the fire, she was met with a familiar face, and was befuddled.

She looked at the camper from afar, trying to reminisce on the figure. Could it really be? From The Hamlet?

“Wait…” she pondered out loud, “no… it can’t be…”

“…Mr. Wagstaff? Is… is that really you?”

[the-misadventures-of-maybelle]

"..."

Wheeler lowers her horn and tenses up in anger, "I told you to be careful! Why weren't you careful!? And who is this!?

Shes practically got angry tears. Poor her.

@probablyatrashcan liked for a starter, and I chose @voxola-radio!

Wheeler was in a hurry to get more resources for the night. She had had a terrible incoming with a hound at the scorching desert and hadn’t been fully prepared, thus the scratches and tears in her skin on her face, as the hound had actually punched at her face.

With torn skin and a bit of blood dripping down, she felt a bit embarrassed to say the least, for having to approach another camper’s fire during the night because she had no resources of her own to help her out.

She recalled. She had met a few survivors, and now the night was here once again, scuttling like a crab quickly to the sea. But she had gotten so caught up with seeing others that she had forgotten to get the grass that goes along with the little wood she had.

So when she approached the fire, she was met with a familiar face, and was befuddled.

She looked at the camper from afar, trying to reminisce on the figure. Could it really be? From The Hamlet?

“Wait…” she pondered out loud, “no… it can’t be…”

“…Mr. Wagstaff? Is… is that really you?”