237th edit and Lord this one took so long, but here it is XD. Ariel and her sisters, from birth order highest form of power/royalty a woman can be. From Goddess, empress, queen, duchess, ambassador, a kinght-ed woman, to a widowed lady of high social status. Yes, I went even further to EXCLUDE princess as I am that stressful on myself. XP I swear some of these ladies colorschemes were so harder to mirror in the outfits, yet if I had say the hardest one was hands down Andrina. I mean She has dark pinks, meanwhile Alana had violet plus lighter pinks. Please comment which one is your personal favorite and can, please explain why. I am torn Attina and Aquata as my personal favorites. Happy early Halloween!
Update: 3/3/2024:
UPDATE/ change one thing I give Aquata dark blues as opposed black, as her and Alana’s outfits would have looked too similar.
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Granted
Malleus x bard reader
(A continuation of Encounter.)
Fingers trailing over your palm, carefully tracing every line. His touch was gentle, carrying the warmth of golden sunshine, alighting on a daisy. You stifle a yawn.
Malleus has been at this for awhile. Rubbing slow circles into your skin with his thumb, his touch lingering on your callouses. Rough patches of skin, hardened from years of playing your instrument.
They scratched at every surface they alighted upon. A husk of skin, protecting the tender flesh lying underneath.
Not the most attractive part of your body, if you do say so yourself.
Fingertips sore and red from plucking strings, crescents of crimson peeking from underneath your nails. They used to sting, with the fury of a thousand wasps. Now, the pain’s dulled itself to a persistent throb, gnawing away at your hand.
It still hurts, but not as much as it used to.
A sigh, Malleus’s breath wafting against your hand. A ticklish sensation. A laugh slips from your lips, before you pull your hand away. Eyes of emerald follow your hand, watching it as it drops onto your lap.
Leaning towards him, you elbow Malleus playfully.
“What’s up with you and my hand? Wanna’ put a ring on that?”
He blinks slowly, as if a raindrop just splattered onto his forehead. Stunned surprise, eyes widening like a cat caught unawares. Another laugh falls from your lips, as you clutch at your trembling sides.
You’ll never get tired of just how expressive Malleus could be. You just can’t see him on a throne, not after your travels with him. Even if you tried, the only image you could conjure up was his smile.
A warm, soothing thing that simply just shone. Not with the sheer power of sunshine, blinding all who witnessed it. Malleus smiled with the serene aura of the moon, the silver light glowing in the pitch black night sky.
His lips moved ever so slightly. Forming words so impossibly soft, that they were blown away by the breeze.
“Perhaps I shall.”
“I beg your pardon?”
You tilt your head a little closer to him, trying to catch even a letter of his words.
Malleus only chuckles, your words a melody to his ears. Goodness, what power you hold. To be able to charm him with your words alone. What a terrifying bard.
“You may have it. I was only wondering about the… stiffness of your hands.”
Stretching your arms out, you held both of your hands aloft, palms facing him. The position was strangely reminiscent of a prayer. You dangle your hands in front of him, wiggling your fingers.
“Years of playing music, Malleus. That’s what it’ll do to your hands. These are the hands of a fighter, my dear prince.”
Reaching for your hands, he squeezes them affectionately. Holding them gingerly within his own, Malleus’ heartbeat tapping lightly into your hands.
“Perhaps, child of man. Perhaps.”
A rustle, as Malleus’ tail snakes forward. A scaly, ebony thing, resting on his lap. He releases your hand, running it down his tail. Scales slip off at his touch, clattering onto the ground. Riffling through the debris, he picks out a particularly small one.
Edges rounded, it’s slightly comical all alone in his hand. Black as the night sky, yet there was a certain twinkle to it that was simply enchanting. As if a star was shattered into fragments and scattered throughout the scale.
It sparkled in the light.
An entire universe, condensed into this one scale.
Malleus places it in your hands, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
“It’s admirable, how hard you have been fighting for your music.”
Lowering his head, Malleus presses a kiss into the very tip of your fingers. A light, fleeting thing. Much like the wings of a butterfly, just barely brushing against your skin.
“The scars of a warrior are not easily earned. A courageous fighter, indeed.”
He gesture to the scale.
“It’s about time someone gave you a sword.”
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This painting murdered me.
So. To business.
I realize in the late afternoon that one of my oldest and dearest friends in the fucking universe HAS HER BIRTHDAY.
TODAY.
(I congratulated her and all that but for some reason I completely forgot to make her a gift). Thus, I must now make the most extravagant gift of all time. I am an artist. I knew what had to be done.
Now, I’m a solid artist in portraits, I can whip those bitches out, fully rendered and detailed in an hour and a half. But nooooo. I must include something about her! Something she loves. WELL WELL VAN GOGH WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???
(This picture curses my retinas now.) I have the bright idea to mimic his stunning impressionist style in a Spock portrait. Side note: Vinnie wasn’t doing digital art, so maybe that would’ve been my first clue to the disaster I was heading towards.
About three minutes into coloring in the eye, I slowly realized. Vinnie, God rest his soul, did not have to individually find each color on a color wheel. He also did not choose to use the most minute brush size of all time. I only realized past the point of no return how hellishly long this was going to take.
(SpongeBob voice)
“Foure houres lateeeh”
(Please zoom in to see the majesty) You can tell around the neck where I just gave up. But my cruel cruel ambition has me by the neck. I can’t give a portrait as a gift! That would be heinous! Why not just….
Van Gogh it?
UGH.
SIX HOURS. AND TWENTY TWO MINUTES. TWENTY-ONE THOUSAND, NINE HUNDRED AND SIXTY STROKES. (For reference the average portrait takes me maybe two hours and three thousand strokes). Madness. Pure madness. But what makes this even more pretentious.
Yes that is the Fibonacci sequence. She is a massive fan of the Fibonacci bro. What she wants, she gets, right? Anyway, it’s three in the morning and I want to sleep forever.
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