#manual tracing

[dartkeia]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭...

EXPLORING space and SURVIVING alien attacks!!!

[lazyfirellama]

https://www.fiverr.com/s/2KkkAGq

I am a graphic designer on fiver

[yikesy]

pre toa apollo is the type of person to arrive to a council meeting 20 mins late with starbucks and excuse himself with 'sorry i'm late i didn't want to come'

post toa apollo is the type of person to arrive to the council meeting exactly on point down to the second and spend the whole thing smiling vacantly and giving the most vague non answers that are still somehow perfectly diplomatic and then leave also the exact millisecond it ends

[kittylittersmoothie]

🎵 You lie, you lie, you lie

You're losing all control

You try to hide the signs

That something's wrong

Open up your hands, working way too hard

To keep it all together, you're a house of cards

Swear that you're not hiding your heart

You lie, you lie, you lie 🎵

[stealingyourbones]

Holy feces dude!

[m-beca]

Gallant hedgehog

[owlhuntress-blog]

If somebody is crazy enough to do it:here are some Greek statues Papercraft!

Athena

I'm actually going to try to make this! Also I don't even have a printer so I will have to manually trace and shade it, wish me luck y'all

Also this one is free!

Aphrodite

This one is paid!

Zeus

Also paid

Nike

Scroll to the comments and you'll find a link,also free!

And there's a YouTube tutorial

---

Unfortunately that's all I could find! I also found some guy on Reddit Athena's bust statue but he only shared the link on DMS and seemingly isn't active anymore.

If you have any more,please share!

[abandonedpie]

It's been so long since I last digitally colored any of my pencil art, manually with my computer's trackpad, that I'd forgotten how tedious and painful it is

[dartkeia]

Not TOO long ago, here's a Phoenix taking flight from its can.

𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓! Today I'm starting with the outlines and the golden base, and then?

...and then I hope 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 more and more. STAY TUNED, because in the next step I'll start adding shadows and details.

[teamfortresstwo]

Wait no I thought I liked my boobs why don’t I like how they feel right now

[swallowtail-ageha]

I think sulyvahn and the londor sisters were *at least* aware of each other but i do not think they liked each other. at all.

[zeearts]

added more modern era-ish clothes to his closet + gave him the haircut i threatened to give, ft human disguise :>

hes finally got a full set of clothes!!

[cloudydayjoy]

Happy pride month! Here’s my queer villain pride flag edit for my WOY Discord server’s icon!

[techdriveplay]

2023 Toyota GR Yaris Rallye - TDP Review

The 2023 Toyota GR Yaris Rallye stands out as a remarkable blend of rally heritage and modern engineering. Developed with the same technology and precision that powers Toyota’s World Rally Championship (WRC) contenders, this hatchback brings a piece of motorsport magic to everyday driving. With a reputation for robust performance and advanced features, the GR Yaris Rallye aims to offer an…

[elswhore]

── A FARMERS PRECIOUS LITTLE DOLL ۶ৎ

── ⌗ older!ellie x reader

matured content. pure smut with little plot. fingering. degration. choking. slapping. spitting. age gap. forbidden. ellie knows damn well your dad will kill her once he finds out she fucked you.

masterlist ۶ৎ navigation ۶ৎ

The sun hangs low over the rolling fields of your family’s farm, painting the wheat gold and the air thick with the scent of earth and hay.

This town, your town, is small, tight knit, and reverent—everyone knows your father, the man who holds the reins of power, his name whispered with equal parts fear and respect.

You’re his daughter, the untouchable jewel, draped in soft dresses and shielded by his iron grip, at twenty, you’re the town’s darling, but the weight of his protectiveness chokes you, a gilded cage you’ve spent years rattling against.

You hate the way eyes avert when you pass, the way no one dares speak to you without glancing over their shoulder for your father’s shadow.

You’re not fragile, not the doll they think, and the fire in your chest burns for something—someone—to see the real you, the one who’s restless, cunning, alive.

Enter Ellie, the new worker your father hired to mend fences and haul hay,s he’s twenty-five, lean and weathered, with auburn hair tied back in a messy bun, freckles dusting her sharp cheekbones, and green eyes that cut through the haze of your boredom like a blade.

She’s different—doesn’t bow her head, doesn’t stammer when you catch her gaze, her flannel shirts are rolled up to her elbows, exposing corded forearms scarred from a life of hard work, and her boots kick up dust as she moves with a quiet confidence that makes your pulse quicken.

You’ve watched her from the porch, pretending to read, your eyes tracing the way her muscles flex under her shirt, the way she wipes sweat from her brow with a smirk, like she knows you’re looking.

She’s a mistake waiting to happen, and you’re drawn to it, to her, like a moth to a flame, it’s a late afternoon when it happens, the sky bruised with clouds, the air heavy with the promise of rain.

You’re in the barn, ostensibly checking the feed stores, but really, you’re there because you saw ellie head inside, her toolbox clanking.

The barn smells of hay and leather, and the dim light filters through slatted walls, casting stripes across her as she kneels, fixing a broken stall door.

You lean against a post, your dress—a soft, white thing your father loves—clinging to your thighs in the humid air.

"Need help?" you ask, voice teasing, and her head snaps up, those green eyes locking onto you.

"You don’t strike me as the manual labor type" she says, her tone dry but her gaze lingering, sliding down your frame in a way that makes your skin prickle.

You step closer, deliberate, letting your hips sway, knowing exactly what you’re doing. "Maybe I’m full of surprises" you say, and she stands, wiping her hands on her jeans, her smirk dangerous.

"Careful, princess" she warns, but there’s no real caution in it, just heat, you’re close now, close enough to smell the faint pine of her soap, to see the pulse in her neck.

"Or what?" you challenge, and it’s like a match striking her hand grabs your wrist, not hard but firm, pulling you against her.

"You’re trouble" she mutters, but her eyes are on your lips, and you know she’s already lost, the kiss is sudden, bruising, all teeth and hunger, her hands gripping your waist as she backs you against the barn wall, the wood rough against your back.

Your dress rides up, and her calloused fingers find your thighs, hitching them apart as she presses herself between them.

"Fuck, you’re gonna get me in trouble" she says, but she’s not stopping, and neither are you, your hands tangle in her hair, pulling her closer, and she groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you.

She’s rough, unpolished, and it’s everything you’ve craved, a rebellion against the pristine cage of your life, her hands are everywhere, tearing at your dress, exposing your skin to the humid air.

"Look at you, all perfect and proper" she says, her voice low, mocking :but you’re just a little sinner, aren’t you?" The words hit like a spark, and you moan, arching into her.

She yanks your underwear down, not bothering to be gentle, and her fingers slide through your wetness, making you gasp.

"So fucking wet already" she says, smirking, and before you can respond, she spits—right onto her fingers, the act so filthy it makes your head spin.

She rubs it into you, slow at first, circling your clit with a precision that has you trembling, your hands clutching her shoulders for balance.

"You like that, huh?" she taunts, and her other hand grabs your jaw, forcing you to meet her gaze "town’s precious girl, begging for my fingers" She pushes one inside you, then two, thick and rough, stretching you open, and you cry out, your hips bucking against her hand.

She’s relentless, curling her fingers, hitting that spot that makes your knees buckle, her thumb still working your clit "look at you" she says, "Bet your daddy’d lose his mind if he saw you like this." The degradation stings, but it’s a good sting, feeding the fire in your chest, and you push back against her fingers, wanting more.

She slaps you—not hard, just enough to make your cheek sting, your eyes watering as you gasp, "greedy little thing" she says, and her hand slides to your throat, squeezing lightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make you feel her control.

Your pulse hammers under her fingers, and she’s watching you, her eyes burning, like she’s memorizing every flush, every shudder.

"Say it" she demands, her fingers slowing inside you, teasing, "say you’re a bad girl." You whimper, "I’m a bad girl" and she grins, wicked, before spitting again this time on your lips, the wet heat shocking you into a moan.

"That’s right" she says, and her fingers speed up, pounding into you, the wet sounds loud in the quiet barn, you’re close, so close, your body shaking, your thighs trembling as you grind against her hand.

Her grip on your throat tightens just a fraction, her thumb brushing your lips, smearing her spit, and it’s filthy, degrading, perfect.

"Come for me, little sinner" she says, and her voice is a growl, her fingers relentless, curling and thrusting, her thumb pressing hard on your clit, you come with a scream, your body convulsing, clenching around her fingers, pleasure crashing through you like a storm.

She doesn’t stop, working you through it, her hand slick with you, her eyes locked on yours as you sob her name, your nails digging into her arms.

She finally slows, her fingers slipping out, and she brings them to her lips, licking them clean with a smirk that makes your stomach flip.

"Taste like trouble" she says, and her hand on your throat softens, stroking your jaw as you pant, still trembling, she pulls you against her, kissing you slow, deep, her tongue tasting of you, and it’s softer now, but the heat’s still there.

"We’re fucked if he finds out" she murmurs, but there’s a grin in her voice, like she’s willing to burn for this, you nod, dazed, your dress still bunched around your waist, your body humming with the aftershocks of her touch.

[tricia868]

I was commissioned to make an art quilt inspired by a photo of the HMS Endurance, Ernest Shackleton's antarctic exploration vessel.

Here are my reference photo (taken by Frank Hurley on August 27, 1915) and some process pictures!

I printed a scale copy of the image, then used it to create an applique pattern and to trace the rigging onto water soluble fabric so I could free motion quilt over all the lines. (FMQ is essentially freehand sketching with your sewing machine by manually moving the quilt under your needle in whatever patterns you want to create with thread.)