Product Placement
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roma★
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@hidden-inthe-briars
Hello? May I finally be let into the light?
[Hello? May I finally be let into the light?]
Welcome to the sideblog of Astanalan. I do hope you make yourself comfortable.
[Welcome to my sideblog of Astanalan. I do hope you make yourself comfortable.]
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My pet rock died. Funeral whenever. Perhaps tomorrow morning? Anyway, rip My Pet Rock, who I never named. You were a rock of all time. In unrelated news, if your name is Epel Felmier I am going to get you and there’s nothing that can stop me either physically or magically. THAT WAS MY PET ROCK.
“Poor pet rock!! I’ll bring flowers for them 😞 May I ask what happened?”
Reblog if you're okay with people coming into your dms or ask box with storylines and rp ideas!
WHOEVER DID THIS TO US, I KNOW YOU. I KNOW WHERE YOU RESIDE IN AND I WILL TAKE REVENGE. I'M WATCHING YOU.
..
" sebek. it really is not that big of a deal- "
IT IS TO ME!
“Hehehe…. You two look adorable like that, though!”
(open rp)
He was sitting in the ramshackle lawn, and his dorm uniform jacket was laid beneath him. He had a small tray of paint, holding an array of green hues.
Astanalan hummed a melody and dipped the paintbrush into a particularly vibrant shade, and began painting the dead branches of a thorn bush green.
The thorns may be dead, but they were still sharp as ever. He got a few stuck in his thumb pad and wrist, but continued on to finish the branch before plucking them out.
“No, that won’t do….” He sighed, looking at the drops of blood now infecting some of the paint. He mixed it in to see how it would blend, and it turned to a shade he quite liked. He smiled to himself and continued to paint with his new little concoction.
“Once that dries into the bark it’s going to look very odd,” Mimsy poofed into existence right beside Astanalan, casually picking up one of the thorns and twirling it between his fingers. He stuffed it in one of the cargo pockets he sewed onto his Diasomnia uniform pants. “More brown than green. Blood always dries horribly. Unless you plan to use more coats?”
“oh, hello there! Yes, I will definitely do more layers of the other shades over this. I thought it would just be fun to try it out ~ I might leave the thorns this dark color, but brighten up the branches themselves. I was it to look a tad unnatural, but I don’t want to make it an eyesore.” He explained, keeping his eyes on his work.
“would you like to join me?” He shifted and grabbed one of his extra brushes and offered it.
“what is your name, by the way? I’ve seen you before in the common rooms but I don’t think we’ve spoken.”
“Oh. Well. If you insist,” he blustered, puffing up his chest and taking the brush. With a flourish and a flick of hair so muddled with flyaways it looked like living static, he proclaimed: “You, my dearest friend, are in the presence of the magnificent, marvelous, mad Master Mimsy Spellcraft. Release your oohs and your ahhs! Please, I get enough attention as it is,” Mimsy lamented, lackadaisically painting over the thorn bush and then slightly intensifying his efforts when he realized that Astanalan was actually taking this business seriously , “All I want to do is help out, truly. No pictures!”
“heheh, well hello, Master Mimsy Spellcraft! Thank you for helping out. Are you sure I couldn’t get just an autograph?” He spoke with a smile.
“I totally get it, though. Audiences are my worst nightmare.” Asta continued. The paint dried in quite an unseemly way, as expected. It was alright, though, nothing too horrible.
“I suppose I could give you an autograph once I’m done helping you,” Mimsy mused, gripping one of the thorny branches by the tip to pull down and paint over it, “Though honestly, I’m just giving you a hard time. The only real audience I get are people I… don’t exactly make happy. Which I suppose is even more of a nightmare. Unless you like that sort of thing?”
He let go of the branch and barely blinked as one of the thorns caught in the back of his hand, shaking it out of his flesh and continuing to paint.
“You never know,” he added, “That’s the only reason I ask.”
“Oh, no, that does sound much worse. I’m sorry about that, Mimsy.” He told him, his voice gentler.
“well, while you’re here you won’t have an audience like that! I, for one, am please to meet you.” He declared.
“where did I put the pain tube…” he began searching the grass around him for the item, “there it is! Now… should we add another cost, or keep it as-is? I kind of like this odd look.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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(open rp)
He was sitting in the ramshackle lawn, and his dorm uniform jacket was laid beneath him. He had a small tray of paint, holding an array of green hues.
Astanalan hummed a melody and dipped the paintbrush into a particularly vibrant shade, and began painting the dead branches of a thorn bush green.
The thorns may be dead, but they were still sharp as ever. He got a few stuck in his thumb pad and wrist, but continued on to finish the branch before plucking them out.
“No, that won’t do….” He sighed, looking at the drops of blood now infecting some of the paint. He mixed it in to see how it would blend, and it turned to a shade he quite liked. He smiled to himself and continued to paint with his new little concoction.
"Hey, mind if i sit with ya?" The prefect smiled softly, holding their back of art supplies and books. Another artist, how delightful.
"Can I ask what you're doing? It almost reminds me of the rituals the Heartslabyul folks do."
“Oh, I don’t mind at all! You’re the prefect here aren’t you? I hope you don’t mind that I started doing this…” He said, setting down his paintbrush on the tray to look at Kris.
“I guess it’s like the heartslabyul rituals, but I just wanted the branches to look more vibrant. It’s so sad to see the plants die, so I fix them up!”
(open rp)
He was sitting in the ramshackle lawn, and his dorm uniform jacket was laid beneath him. He had a small tray of paint, holding an array of green hues.
Astanalan hummed a melody and dipped the paintbrush into a particularly vibrant shade, and began painting the dead branches of a thorn bush green.
The thorns may be dead, but they were still sharp as ever. He got a few stuck in his thumb pad and wrist, but continued on to finish the branch before plucking them out.
“No, that won’t do….” He sighed, looking at the drops of blood now infecting some of the paint. He mixed it in to see how it would blend, and it turned to a shade he quite liked. He smiled to himself and continued to paint with his new little concoction.
“Once that dries into the bark it’s going to look very odd,” Mimsy poofed into existence right beside Astanalan, casually picking up one of the thorns and twirling it between his fingers. He stuffed it in one of the cargo pockets he sewed onto his Diasomnia uniform pants. “More brown than green. Blood always dries horribly. Unless you plan to use more coats?”
“oh, hello there! Yes, I will definitely do more layers of the other shades over this. I thought it would just be fun to try it out ~ I might leave the thorns this dark color, but brighten up the branches themselves. I was it to look a tad unnatural, but I don’t want to make it an eyesore.” He explained, keeping his eyes on his work.
“would you like to join me?” He shifted and grabbed one of his extra brushes and offered it.
“what is your name, by the way? I’ve seen you before in the common rooms but I don’t think we’ve spoken.”
“Oh. Well. If you insist,” he blustered, puffing up his chest and taking the brush. With a flourish and a flick of hair so muddled with flyaways it looked like living static, he proclaimed: “You, my dearest friend, are in the presence of the magnificent, marvelous, mad Master Mimsy Spellcraft. Release your oohs and your ahhs! Please, I get enough attention as it is,” Mimsy lamented, lackadaisically painting over the thorn bush and then slightly intensifying his efforts when he realized that Astanalan was actually taking this business seriously , “All I want to do is help out, truly. No pictures!”
“heheh, well hello, Master Mimsy Spellcraft! Thank you for helping out. Are you sure I couldn’t get just an autograph?” He spoke with a smile.
“I totally get it, though. Audiences are my worst nightmare.” Asta continued. The paint dried in quite an unseemly way, as expected. It was alright, though, nothing too horrible.
(open rp)
He was sitting in the ramshackle lawn, and his dorm uniform jacket was laid beneath him. He had a small tray of paint, holding an array of green hues.
Astanalan hummed a melody and dipped the paintbrush into a particularly vibrant shade, and began painting the dead branches of a thorn bush green.
The thorns may be dead, but they were still sharp as ever. He got a few stuck in his thumb pad and wrist, but continued on to finish the branch before plucking them out.
“No, that won’t do….” He sighed, looking at the drops of blood now infecting some of the paint. He mixed it in to see how it would blend, and it turned to a shade he quite liked. He smiled to himself and continued to paint with his new little concoction.
“Once that dries into the bark it’s going to look very odd,” Mimsy poofed into existence right beside Astanalan, casually picking up one of the thorns and twirling it between his fingers. He stuffed it in one of the cargo pockets he sewed onto his Diasomnia uniform pants. “More brown than green. Blood always dries horribly. Unless you plan to use more coats?”
“oh, hello there! Yes, I will definitely do more layers of the other shades over this. I thought it would just be fun to try it out ~ I might leave the thorns this dark color, but brighten up the branches themselves. I was it to look a tad unnatural, but I don’t want to make it an eyesore.” He explained, keeping his eyes on his work.
“would you like to join me?” He shifted and grabbed one of his extra brushes and offered it.
“what is your name, by the way? I’ve seen you before in the common rooms but I don’t think we’ve spoken.”
(open rp)
He was sitting in the ramshackle lawn, and his dorm uniform jacket was laid beneath him. He had a small tray of paint, holding an array of green hues.
Astanalan hummed a melody and dipped the paintbrush into a particularly vibrant shade, and began painting the dead branches of a thorn bush green.
The thorns may be dead, but they were still sharp as ever. He got a few stuck in his thumb pad and wrist, but continued on to finish the branch before plucking them out.
“No, that won’t do….” He sighed, looking at the drops of blood now infecting some of the paint. He mixed it in to see how it would blend, and it turned to a shade he quite liked. He smiled to himself and continued to paint with his new little concoction.
POPULARITY POLL ROUND 3 WINNERS BRACKET PT. 7
RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS v. MALLEUS DRACONIA
Riddle
Malleus
You have good priorities
my brother deserves the votes, he is a prince after all sooooo ~
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
