is lups partner in torch it up for the swap greg grimmaldis?
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my go d……………..holy shit thats amazing. no, in this au its only the members of ipre that are swapped and noone else, tho somtimes i draw other swaps bc its rly fun??? but jesus thats a good one. can u imagine taako at the press conference yellin SAZED YOU OWE ME FIFT
kc+ "“I get that it’s hotter than hell out here but if you remove any more clothing I won’t be responsible for my actions-wait. why are you smirking at me?” AU
She fans herself lazily as she reclines on the deck chair next to the Mikaelson’s ridiculous pool, the heat of the New Orleans sun beating down on her intensely.
Taking a long sip of her ice tea, she sets down the glass on the table next to her, crossing and uncrossing her legs as she lifts her sweat dampened hair off her neck.
“This is the worst.” She mumbles under her breath as Rebekah makes a soft noise of agreement.
The air conditioning system in the Mikaelson house had broken down, and as a result it was actually hotter inside than it was outside, which was just ridicolous.
Rebekah had suggested the shade outside near the pool, hoping that the coolness of the water would provide some sort of reprieve. She had readily agreed, tucking a book under hear arm, grabbing a jug of iced tea from the fridge, and following the blonde Mikaelson outside.
She wasn’t sure where Klaus was today. He had said something about dealing with a coven of witches who had overstepped their bounds, and she had long since stopped asking questions about what he chose to do in the city that he ruled.
It was far easier on their relationship that way. As long as he came home at the end of each day she was fine.
The heat hadn’t seemed to affect him, even as she’d kicked off the covers of their shared bed, dressed only in a thin singlet and some panties. Klaus’ eyes had darkened momentarily as he’d swept his gaze over here exposed body, but he had seemingly resisted temptation, pulling on a pair of jeans and one of his many Henleys.
He’d farewelled her with a scorching kiss before smirking and making his way out of the compound and into the streets beyond.
She hadn’t seen him since.
“Please tell me we have someone fixing the air conditioning?” She asks Rebekah.
“Oh you’d better believe it. And if it’s not fixed by this afternoon…” She trails off threateningly and she doesn’t want to think about just what Rebekah had threatened the workmen with.
Of course, that hadn’t stopped them from leering at them both. She just knows that Rebekah is considering taking a drink from one of them, if not to scare the others into submission.
If Klaus had been there he would have ripped one of their heads off without thinking twice about it for their indecency.
“I can’t take this anymore. I’m heading for somewhere that has airconditioning. Do you want to come?” Rebekah asks, standing and drawing herself up to her full height.
She waves Rebekah away in answer, the other girl chuckling at her refusal.
“Alright then. Be careful. I think Nik is due back soon.”
She just nods, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of the oppressive heat, sleep stealing over her in the next few moments.
Footsteps approaching her is what finally pulls her from her fiftful sleep, and when she opens her eyes it’s Klaus that towers over her, a gentle smile on his face as he watches her.
“Hello love.” He begins gently, crouching down next to her lounger. “You’re a bit overheated.” He presses the back of his hand to her forehead in a surprisingly tender gesture, pushing away some of her hair.
“The same could be said for you.” She remarks lightly, sitting up a little straighter, taking in the way his henley clings to his chest, slightly damp with sweat.
“Come for a swim love.” Klaus stands, holding out a hand for her.
“You’re going for a swim in your clothes?” She asks amusedly, taking his hand and letting him pull her to her feet.
Klaus’ answering smile is sinful as he steps back and drags his Henley over his head, dropping it carelessly on the ground beside him.
Her mouth goes dry at the sight of his chest. She’d always known that Klaus had a banging bod, even back in the Mystic Falls days when they’d first crossed paths and she’d tried to pretend otherwise.
I mean hello, his arms as they held her, feeding her his blood on her birthday had been cut.
She’d been drawn to him ever since, and while a part of it thinks it might have been because of the blood she had drank from him, another part of her knows it’s because she simply found him attractive.
“Why are you smirking at me?” She asks, finally dragging her eyes from his chest to his face.
Klaus just smirks again, bending down to untie his boots, muscles rippling across his chest and abdomen with the movement.
All she can do is stand and watch as Klaus strips down to his boxers. There’s nothing showboaty about his movements, in fact the whole thing is quite methodical. All the same the heat that she’s suddenly feeling low in her belly is not just from her surroundings.
“Coming love?” He asks, turning and diving into the pool.
He surfaces a few seconds later, hands coming up to slick back his hair, water droplets glittering like diamonds against the smooth skin of his chest.
She uses the steps to get into the pool, sighing with relief as she submerges herself in the cool water, drifting almost automatically towards Klaus, who takes her hand and pulls her into his body.
His hand plays with the ties of her bikini top as he pushes her towards the opposite wall, covering her with his body, hand tangling in her hair as he tilts her face upwards to meet his lips.
The first press of his lips against hers has her letting out a gentle moan that echoes around the pool, Klaus’ hand dipping below the water line to cup her arse. The evidence of his desire is clear enough, resting hot and heavy against her stomach as Klaus just smiles at her soft gasp of surprise.
They stay like that for some time, kissing languidly, like they had all the time in the world to get to their ultimate destination, which would no doubt be her on her back in their bed, Klaus’ head between her thighs before he took her.
A piercing wolf whistle has her wrenching away from him with gasp, Klaus stiffening against her as a murderous expression comes across his face. She buries her face in his chest as he looks over his shoulder, to where one of the work men is standing idly by the pool, hands shoved into his pockets.
“Your air conditioning is fixed mate. Problem with one of the cooling systems overheating. She’s running like a dream though, shouldn’t give you anymore trouble.”
“I should hope so mate.” Klaus replies, tone dripping with derision, a slight bite of anger for having been interrupted.
She digs his fingers into his chest warningly as Klaus flicks his gaze back to her momentarily.
“You have my thanks. Has my brother arranged payment?” He asks cordially, a little too smoothly.
The worker, perhaps picking up on the sudden change in tone, shifts uneasily from one foot to another.
“All sorted. He said to let you know before we left. We’ll be off now.”
Klaus says nothing in reply, simply waits until the worker has disappeared back into the house before turning that dark gaze on her once more.
She plays with the hair at the back of his neck, an amused smile on her lips.
“How close were you to tearing his throat out?” She asks conversationally as Klaus chuckles, pressing gentle lips to her forehead.
“Close enough. Now sweetheart, where were we?”
She tugs him down for a kiss, and after that there’s no more talking.
“First surface here” he breathes an abruptly he lifts me. “Wrap your legs around me.” I do as I’m told, and he turnes and layes me down on the foyer table, so he is standing between m legs. | Fifty Shades Darker
In-contro-luce by PAshaRome
OM Zuiko Auto-S 50/1.8 @F1.8
???? ??????,50mm,B&W,BW,Black and White,Bokeh,City details,Fast Lens,Fifty,Japan Lens,Manual Focus,Manual Lens,Monochrome,OM Zuiko 50,OM Zuiko 50 1.8,OM mount,Olympus,Prime Lens,Roma,Street,Urban,Urban life,White and Black,Zuiko,Zuiko 50,From my car
When he was a child, he had enjoyed
books and cartoons. He had never gotten into trouble with teachers or
fellow students; most people considered him a quiet and intelligent
child, maybe even a bit wise beyond his years. He had enjoyed heavy
stories about politics and history, about wars and tensions, and he
had been fascinated by the men who had fought to resolve conflict in
Almost as much as by the men who had
As a teenager, Jin had excelled at
math and sciences at school, and taught himself everything there was
to know about computers in his pastime. He had learned about hardware
and software, and all the useful things computers could do, and he
had been excited by how much information he could easily access.
Almost as much as by his sudden
ability to get information that was noteasy to access.
at the risk of being a bitch I need to ask this. why do artists like you give art as gifts. if you spent an hour on art thats an hour you could instead go out and buy something for the person. artists think theyre hot shot giving art as gifts nobody fucking wants that. artists do it for their own ego stroking. why dont any of you just get fifts instead
It’s funny because this was sent while I was asleep and I am 80% sure I know who sent this.
And all I’m saying is: if you don’t want art then Boohoo. Cause I do. I love getting art. Art takes time and effort and thought.
And for someone to draw/make me anything means a lot.
The curious circle of Mirage III derivatives and copies.
First, the French machines:
On top we have the original Mirage III, one hell of an interceptor and fighter, the living proof that a delta wing was the perfect solution for supersonic flight (instead of that god-awful wing used by the F-104), an overall and outstanding export success, effectively the west’s MiG-21, only superior.
The second is her first major upgrade, the Mirage V, a version almost tailor-made for Israel (but more of that in a sec), that sacrificed all-weather interception capacity for better ground-attack capabilities, with an stretched fuselaje, better payload, better range, more hard-points, and a nose cone designed to improve ground view. Another export success.
Third is the ultimate version, the Mirage 50, a throwback to the original all-weather interception capabilities, with a set of fixed canards to improve flying characteristics, a new radar and engine, not as successful as her predecessors, but still an aircraft to behold.
Now we get to the international copies and variants:
The fourth one is effectively an unlicensed Israeli version of the Mirage V, the IAI Nesher (Vulture). Build after France denied delivery of the V’s the Israelis both helped to make and payed in full, where, Israel being Israel, decided that fuck the french, they were getting their Mirages, so what they did was STEAL her blueprints using the Mossad, and effectively build them themselves, the only differences being the american ejection seats and some israeli-made avionics, quickly passed out and sold to Argentina following our next contender.
The fifth variant was a improvement over the Nesher, replacing the french-made engine with an american-made one, the same that powered the F-4 already in service with the IAF, the General Electric J79, giving birth to the IAI Kfir (Lion’s cub, a colombian C10 version is pictured), a superior variant with better avionics, higher payload and all-around performance, although with a reduced range.
And the final variant, the South African Atlas Cheetah, which is essentially a mix between a Kfir and a Mirage III, with a more powerful french-made engine (the same equipping the Mirage 50), much better avionics, improvements of dogfighting ability, and overall the ultimate version of the Mirage III, which in turn, curiously enough, would lead to the development of the upgraded Kfir C10 (seen on the fift pic), completing the circle.
With the Cheetah died the development of this remarkable aircraft, as the French moved on to the far superior but far less successful Mirage 2000, the Israelis would try and fail to make their own fighter based on the lessons from the Nesher and Kfir, culminating in the cancelled (thanks to america) IAI Lavi, and the South Africans gave up on aircraft-making after the end of Apartheid brought an end to their military complex, the most advance in Africa.
Charm: *bursts through the bathroom door into the bedroom, singing into a hairbrush* HOW DYA DO?
Honor: *sitting in their bed reading and minding his own damn business* oh no
Charm: *walks into the room* OH DARLING AS I CAME FOR YOU?
Honor: darling, please, this is the fift-
Charm: NOW PUT ON ME A SMILE!
Honor: charm, love, it’s 6 am-
Charm: *draping himself across honor* IM YOUR LADY IM CRAZY