SWEPTAIL, bespoke Rolls-Royce for one specific customer
Every aspect of the material treatment of ‘Sweptail’ exudes handcrafted quality and exacting attention to detail. In short, it is a Rolls-Royce – but like no other before. The owner of this car, who doesn’t wish to be named, obviously has deep pockets. Very deep pockets, since the special Rolls is rumored to cost around $13 million. The unnamed gentleman came to Rolls-Royce to realize his vision of a one-off luxury motor car that would evoke the beauty of coachbuilt Rolls-Royces of the 1920s and 1930s. He asked for a two-seat coupé featuring a large panoramic glass roof.
“Sweptail is the automotive equivalent of Haute Couture,” comments Giles Taylor, Director of Design at Rolls-Royce Motor Cars. “It is a Rolls-Royce designed and hand-tailored to fit a specific customer. This customer came to the House of Rolls-Royce with an idea, shared in the creative process where we advised him on his cloth, and then we tailored that cloth to him. You might say we cut the cloth for the suit of clothes that he will be judged by.”
Inspired by the beautiful coachbuilt Rolls-Royces of the 1920s and 1930s, the client’s desire was for a coachbuilt two seater coupé featuring a large panoramic glass roof. Amongst his inspirations were the dramatic 1925 Phantom I Round Door – the svelte tapering glasshouse, dramatic dash to axle proportion and up-sweep of the rear departure angle of the 1934 Phantom II Streamline Saloon. Other classics from the marque’s golden age informing this car were the 1934 Gurney Nutting Phantom II Two Door Light Saloon and the Park Ward 20/25 Limousine Coupé.
The grille is the largest fitted to any modern-era Rolls Royce. It’s milled from a single piece of aluminum, before being hand-polished to a mirror shine. Further back you’ve the “swept-tail” that gives the car its name, while Rolls says the way the bodywork wraps under the car “with no visible boundary to the surfaces” is “akin to the hull of a yacht”. Meanwhile the “bullet-tip” centre brake light and lower bumper “combine to create a greater feeling of elegance in motion”.
The “highlight” of the exterior though, says Rolls, is the panoramic glass roof. They claim it’s “one of the most complex ever seen on a motor car”. It’s certainly among the biggest. Creating the ambience of the interior of the motor car, the glass of the roof is framed by polished aluminum rails that channel it into a vanishing point at the rearmost extremity of the cabin. The panoramic glass roof illuminates a minimalist interior, ‘decked’ out in materials as rich as you’d expect from the marque. Dark ebony wood and ‘Dark Spice’ leather are complimented by lighter paldao wood and ‘Moccasin’ leather. The minimalist ethic is taken to the extreme with the dashboard, which ditches everything except for one single physical control – everything else is hidden away to allow the materials to star.
Behind the two enormous front seats, instead of a rear bench you’ll find an vast expanse of wood, ideal for storing designer suitcases. The center armrest is a chiller for a bottle of vintage champagne and two crystal champagne flutes.
Are the sloped backs and bent legs on show German Shepherds from breeding or is it just a stance they're trained to stand/walk in? I can't really find a definite answer for that.
I had an answer I wrote on this but I cannot find it for the life of me!
The structural aspect people commonly label as a “sloped back” has nothing to do with the back at all and is not a accurate term. Rather the slope is created by several things, the major one is rear angulation, and the manner of the stack (if the dog is leaning into itself, etc), some things such as overangulation and weak ligamentation can make it more extreme. This is where you must learn to develop an eye for structure, and you cannot always judge from a picture.
To show you what I mean, this is my dog who I know has strong ligamention and could actually use a bit more rear angle in two different stacks. Notice how his rear and topline are exaggerated in the lower one? This is simply because he is leaning into himself, which dogs are often taught to do for conformation. Taken only a couple months apart. Fairly mild example.
Now looking at this dog, this dog is not stacked it is just standing this way. This would be a dog with weak ligaments that do not properly support its weight. I personally feel the strength of the dogs’ ligaments overall plays a huge roll. As I’ve seen dogs with far less angulation who were still quit weakly built, and I’ve seen dogs who had a lot of angle but were still quite firm.
Compare these two dogs, the dog is a dog who looks to be overangulated and potentially has weaker ligaments. Notice how the dog looks to “sag” in the rear, like there isn’t much support.
Compare to this dog, still a good amount of rear angle but notice how much stronger he looks. He moves quite nicely as well.
Same dog in a more moderate stack.
Hopefully that gives you a better idea, it’s not something that’s easy to learn overnight but rather you must develop an eye for.
Request: Imagine your Gemmas niece and your back in Charming. Chibs smut
The car pulled over to the side of the road and you angled the rear-view mirror to look at yourself. You rummaged through your handbag and pulled out your lipstick, and drew it across your lips. You grabbed your eye liner next and redrew your wings and after re applying your mascara you looked over your work. With a wink and a pout to your reflection, you shifted the mirror back into position and lifted the handbrake, driving smoothly back into the traffic and past the ‘Welcome To Charming’ sign. It had been years since you’d left. You had been naive and innocent then, just a young girl searching for herself. But now, you were back. The last few years had been kind to you, and your body had developed into that of a full blown woman. Curves in all the right places, soft skin and long legs. Your hair fell graciously down your back and anywhere you went all eyes were on you. Confidence radiated from you and you bathed in it. You loved the way heads turned when you walked into a room and the way other girls envied you. Sure, some of them were bitchy, but you had been raised by your Aunt Gemma til you were fifteen, and she had taught you to be the biggest bitch of all and not take anyones shit. You were similar to your Aunt in many ways. Neither of you gave a shit what anyone else thought, and nothing could stand in the way of getting what you wanted. You were fiercely loyal and you would do anything to protect the ones you loved. When you left she was still the Queen of SAMCRO, but you had heard that things had changed. A smirk spread across your face as you wondered who the poor bitch was that took Gemma’s place. No matter where your Aunts old man sat, everyone knew that as long as Jax was in SAMCRO, Gemma would always be queen. The familiar streets began to flow past you as you drove, the windows down and the warm air swirling through your car. You knew the way to TM like the back of your hand and before you knew it you were pulling into the lot, the row of hikes a welcome sight. No one knew you were coming and you smirked as you saw what you suspected were Prospects eyeing you from the garage. You didn’t see many familiar faces so you hopped out of your car an headed for the Office. The sound of your heels echoed across the pavement and you smirked as you felt the eyes on you. The door to the office was open and you could see Gemma sitting behind the desk, her head buried in the paperwork in front of her. You leant against the door and knocked lightly. “I’m busy.” Gemma said, without glancing up. A smile spread across your lips and you crossed your arms over your chest. “So you’re still a bitch, huh?” You asked. Gemma’s head snapped up but once she saw you her mouth dropped. “(Y/n)??!!” She gasped and stood up, tossing her glasses to the desk. “Hey Gem.” You grinned at her. You both moved closer and she embraced you in her arms. You squeezed her tightly, realising just how much you had missed her. “What are you doing here?” Gemma asked you, stepping back to look at you. “I heard there was a bitch trying to take your place.” You said with a smirk and Gemma smirked right back at you. “I am so glad your back.”
The clubhouse was exactly the same as you remembered. From the wall of mugshots to the strong smell of liquor and cheap perfume, and the same old rock songs playing through the speakers, just like they had so many years ago. You smiled as you looked around the room, taking in the familiar sight. You were home. “Chucky, get us a drink would you sweetheart?” Gemma called to a man behind the bar and he nodded immediately before grabbing two glasses. You smiled warmly to the strange man and he stuck his ‘hand’ out. You shook it gently and he grinned at you before passing you and Gemma your drinks and she smirked at him. “Thank you, Chucky.” She cooed and he blushed slightly before moving away. “So where is everyone?” You asked as you took a sip, your eyes glancing around the empty room. “Church.” Gemma explained and you nodded. After an hour of catching up with your Aunt both of your attention turned to the large doors as you heard them open, and SAMCRO began to file out. You rested your elbows against the bar behind you and leant back, a smirk on your face as you studied the familiar faces. Jax was the first to notice you and his face lit up with joy. You hopped of the stool and ran towards him, throwing your body into his open arms. He swung you round, squeezing you tightly and you threw your head back and laughed loudly, letting your hair fall down your back. He placed you back on the ground and you both grinned at each other goofily. “Long time no see, Teller.” You smirked and nudged him playfully. A large hand ruffled your hair and you turned only to be wrapped up in a bear hug by Ope. You had always been close with the two, being only two years younger and you had spent a lot of your childhood with them. You grinned and hugged him back. “What took you so long?!” Opie beamed and you grinned back at him. Slowly the familiar faces began to swarm towards you and you embraced each of them dearly. Bobby, Tig, and Uncle Clay. Chibs stood near the back and you smirked at his wide eyes before moving forward and throwing your arms around his neck. “Hey Chibby.” You purred in his ear. His arms held you awkwardly and you fought back a laugh, knowing it was your appearance that was having this affect on him. When you had left Charming you were a young girl, with too much attitude for her own good. But these guys hadn’t seen you in years, and all their jaws were practically hitting the floor as they looked over your now developed figure. He fought to keep his eyes away from your curves and your cleavage and he smiled at you warmly. They introduced you to the others you didn’t know yet, Juice, Happy, and Kozik. Each of them looked you up and down, smirks on their faces as they took you in, but you were used to it. “So how long are you here for?” Jax asked you as he threw an arm over your shoulder and you all walked towards the bar. You shrugged. “Til I get sick of seeing your ugly face.” You smirked up at him and he shoved you playfully, both of you laughing. Soon the drinks started flowing, the music played louder, and the air began to merge with the smoke from ciggarettes and joints. Laughter filled the room and you say with your SAMCRO family, catching up and laughing together about all the things you’d missed.
The sun began to set outside, but you were oblivious. You sat around the clubhouse, all of you well on your way to being drunk as you all belted out the words to ‘You shook me all night long’. You had always been the life of the party, and your friends had always said you were like a chameleon, able to fit in with any crowd no matter your differences. People seemed to relax around you, and tonight you had had everyone in fits of laughter, and for the first time in a long time the boys had forgotten there problems. No one noticed the door to the clubhouse open, and no one notice Tara walk in, her hands on her hips as she looked at the chaos. You were on the table, the boys around you, all of you screaming the lyrics to each other, grins on your faces. Chibs’ eyes were locked on you as you swayed your hips and moved to the music. However you had a habit of getting a bit too excited when you heard ACDC and after swinging your head around the table, your hair flowing, you slipped and your cousin Jax caught you, all of you erupting in laughter. Tara stormed across the room, a scowl on her face as Jax lowered you to the ground. You didn’t see her coming, your back was too her and she stormed up to you. From across the room Gemma watched, a smirk on her face. Tara pushed your shoulder roughly, making your body turn to face her. you looked her up and down, a wicked smirk on your face as you looked her over. She had never met you, and she stepped closer to you, her fists clenched by her sides. “Stay the fuck away from my man.” She spat. You raised your eye brows, and scoffed. “Excuse me?” “Jax is mine, bitch.” She said coldly and she shoved you once more. That was the final straw. Fire filled your bones and your fist collided with her jaw. Her head snapped to the side and she clutched her face in shock before it turned into a scowl. She swung her fist, but you were faster. This time, you got her right in the nose, and a cracking noise confirmed a break. Tara fell to the ground and you leapt on top of her. Fists were flying and you could feel arms trying to lift you off her. But you resisted, despite Tara having her hands wrapped around your hair. With one final blow to her jaw you stopped resisting, letting the strong arms lift you. Before they could carry you away you stared down at her as she looked up at you in shock, blood pouring from her nose. “Your standards have dropped, Jackson.” You said loudly before squatting in front of her. “But luckily for you, bitch, I’m not really into fucking my cousin.”
The strong arms held you firmly and you were marched across the clubhouse. When you turned around you saw it was Chibs leading you and you didn’t mind so much. He led you in silence to the hallway and you walked with your head held high. Tara had managed to get a couple of good hits on you but nothing too major. You might have a couple of bruised and scratches in the morning but you’d been in worse fights before, and you knew you’d look better than her. Chibs opened the door and you followed him in, your eyes scanning the room you realised was his dorm. “Ye alright lass?” He asked you softly. You walked to the bed and flashed him a grin over your shoulder. “Couldn’t be better.” You winked and he chuckled lightly. “Where’d ye learn to fight like that?” He asked you as he moved across the room and both of you sat on the bed. You looked at him and raised you eye brows. “You do remember who raised me, right?” You asked playfully and you both laughed. Chibs reached into the bedside tables drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. His strong hands unscrewed the bottle and he took a long swig before passing the bottle to you. It was smooth down your throat and you passed it back to him. Your fingers touched his as you passed the bottle and you felt a spark of electricity run through you, and warmth began to grow inside you. Chibs placed the bottle on the table and you both sat in silence. Neither of you could deny the sexual chemistry burning in the air. It was just a matter of who would make the first move. Of course, it was you. Slowly, you stood and stepped in front of Chibs. His eyes met yours and you smiled at him, your hands reaching out and running along his shoulders. You lifted your knees onto the bed and sat in his lap, straddling him. His hands touched your thighs and you bit your lip as you looked into his deep eyes. You both moved your heads together, teasing each other, his hands caressing your thighs and your hands running through his hair. His breath was in your lips and you licked your own lips before moving your head forward. His lips were soft on yours, cautious, almost, but the feel of him lit a hunger inside you. You pressed your lips against his once more and ran your tongue across his lip. His hands moved to your waist and he gripped you firmly as his mouth moved with yours. Your hips rolled against him and you moaned softly at the friction, you could feel how hard he was already through your clothes. His hands explored your body, searching desperately across your skin and he lifted your shirt, tossing it behind you. His lips moved down your neck and he sucked roughly at your skin, making you tug gently at his hair. Your hips continued to grind against him and you clutched desperately at him as his lips explored your neck and the curve of your breasts. His hands moved up your back and he unclipped your bra expertly before letting it drop to the floor. You pushed him back on the bed and lay on top of him, your hips grinding against his and your lips pressing against him. His hands were warm on your skin yet they sent shivers through you. His hands dipped under the waist band of your jeans and he held you to him as you rolled your hips against his, both of you moaning. You pushed his kutte off his shoulders and impatient hands unbuttoned his shirt. Chibs rolled you onto your back and you moaned as he pressed his hardness against your core. His lips moved to your breast and he sucked roughly at your nipple, and you gasped as you felt him bite it gently. His hands moved to your jeans and he tugged them down your thighs roughly. His eyes took in every inch of you as he unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans to the floor, his boxers following instantly. His member stood proudly and you licked your lips as he moved onto the bed and hovered over you. You reached up and kissed his lips softly. His hands moved to your panties and he pushed them to the side before lining himself up at your entrance. You moaned as he rubbed himself against your folds and he pushed forwards slowly. A gasp escaped your lips as he pushed into you and he paused for a moment, letting you adjust to him. You both looked into each other’s eyes before kissing deeply. A list burnt within you and you moved your hips, signalling him to continue. He took the hint and moved his hips against you, both of you moaning at the sensation. His thrusts became deeper and his whole length pulled out of you slowly before slamming back in. Your back arched off the bed and Chibs began to pound into you relentlessly, his hands gripping your legs and his mouth wrapped around the skin in your neck. You felt every inch of his length enter you and you moaned his name. His thrusts became faster, harder, more desperate. “Chibs.” You moaned as he filled you and he growled. Your nails scratched down his back as he moved inside you. His hand ran between your bodies and his thumb reached your clit, rubbing soft circles. “Cum for me little girl.” He growled and you moaned loudly at his words. His thrusts shook your body and you both moaned as you both reached your release. His movements slowed and he rested over you as you both caught your breath. After a moment he lifted his head and pressed his lips to yours softly before rolling off you. You rolled onto your side and smiled at him through hooded eyes. “Well, that was fun.”
Benjie Flipperboi is accustomed to getting his hands dirty on early 70s Japanese iron. But he’s decided to branch out on his latest build—an amazing Ducati cafe racer called ‘Velocita D’Epoca.’ Working with a tired and neglected Ducati 900 SS/SP found for a bargain price, the @benjiescaferacer crew stripped the Ducati completely before starting with a new, aggressively angled rear subframe. The Norton-inspired tank was next on their list, mounted low in the front to partly cover the trellis frame.
The seat and tail are a one-off carbon fiber unit, and the headlight was hand-hammered. The clip-ons are unique and you’ll find no linkages for the foot controls. It’s old school engineering at its finest and that makes it one of our latest Bikes Of The Week.
Hit the link in our bio to see more, plus the other four killer builds that made the cut.
#ducati #900ss #caferacer #benjiescaferacer #bcrdesigns #motorcycle #bikeexif
Photography: @blacksheepmanila and @13luckymonkey
Doop was said to be the product of a Cold War era U.S. military experiment, becoming instrumental in the fall of the Soviet Union. First appearing in X-Force #116 (May 23, 2001), he later served as the cameraman for the celebrity mutant superhero team X-Statix. He films a mission to North Africa which is later criticized by then-team leader Zeitgeist; he feels Doop should not be going for artistic shots. The next X-Force mission is to New York, where they are to rescue the boy band “Boyz R Us” from hostage takers. While in the briefing room, U-Go Girl asks Doop not to keep shooting her rear from a low angle. Doop replies in his language only the characters know, while inexplicably mouthing some of his recording equipment. Doop’s abilities displayed in the comics thus far have included superhuman strength and durability, flight, regeneration, physical malleability, a vaguely defined ability to manipulate time and/or space, and the ability to replicate physical objects by unknown means.
Here’s a little thingy I did for @reylosanctuary because they were kind enough to write me an incredible ficlet that you can read here ! I hope you like it <3 and thank you again for taking the time to create such a great piece!
Each encounter with the Commander never mirrored the last. He enjoyed playing with you. You were a fascinating toy for him, an experiment waiting in his bed.
Tonight he left you blindfolded and ordered you to sit on your knees. As per usual, you had no idea what his intentions were, but you supposed that was part of the thrill. After what seemed like hours, you heard the faint thud of his boots, followed by weight shifting on the mattress.
Broad, leather digits found their way through your hair, gathering the strands around your face and balling it into a single fist. He gave a quick tug, tipping your head back against his chest, your feet fully tucked under your rear. From this angle, you were entirely exposed to him–your body accented by the faint lighting of his quarters.
He relaxed his grip, and you heard him sigh in satisfaction, admiring your figure as one palm cupped your face, thumb sliding between your lips in coercion. You obliged, parting them quickly to welcome him. You let your tongue glide over the rough seams of his glove, scraping your teeth along the tip. He pressed in further, forefinger stroking your face in silent appreciation when he began to hear you gag each time he stroked against your uvula. His other hand snaked down the dip between your exposed breasts, trailing down to your stomach.
“Perfect. So obedient–such a good little kitten, aren’t you?” his voice was barely a whisper–more hot breath against your skin than anything. You nodded against his intrusive finger lightly in response, and he rubbed along your tongue, collecting the saliva pooling inside your mouth.
When he was satisfied, he drew his digit away, using the fluids from your mouth to lubricate his next two fingers. His other hand grazed further down your torso–pausing at the hip and tracing dangerously close to your folds. Just enough to make you arch further into him, whimpering when they danced along your thigh instead. You rolled your hips again and he skated his soaked fingers down directly to your aching sex, giving it a light smack. Typically it would have felt softer against his bare hand, but the material bound around it made you yelp and with the unforgiving sting.
He repeated the process again, “Enough, pet, that’s not how my whore asks.”
You bit back another whimper, settling your hips and allowing him to continue his teasing. Instead, you tried concentrating on the feeling of your saliva leaving thin trails around the sensitive flesh at your center. How it left moist chills behind with the rough threads catching every so often on your slit. Finally, you felt a prodding finger dip inside, stroking at the hood of your clit and slithering down to your entrance. Another digit joined that and he pumps into you quickly, hooking up over your pubic bone, running his fingertips over the nerves.
“I’m not sure which end of you is drooling more for me,” he drug his hand away from you, pulling an obscene amount of liquid with it, “maybe you should taste it to find out.”
And with that he pushed those fingers past your lips, letting you taste the sharp yet sweet juices. You drank it down like it was the only thing that would satiate you, licking the film you created off of his digits entirely.
“Such a good girl. So filthy, so needy to please her Commander."
You nodded in agreement and sucked his fingers all the way in, letting him rub at the roof of your mouth, thumb dragging over your upper lip.
His other hand trickled down your side and back up again, applying soft pressure to feel each protrusion of your ribs. When he made it to the curvature of your chest, he began palming at your breast and snapping your nipple down with his thumb.
The touch was so gentle, yet you knew it was the calm before the storm, soon those light caresses would turn into unforgiving kneads against your skin. The small strikes he left on your cunt would become full spanks and you were certain he would leave colorful blotches of bruises over your hips, stomach and neck. Each experience was another reminder of how you belonged to him and how he needed to prove it continuously.
Two of the perks we’re offering are our Backer Blog and a production artbook. The production artbook is essentially a condensed, downloadable version of the blog and it will contain the production art we’re using to create this short. And we’re going to show you one of the many excellent pieces our lead animator, Avian Anderson has been working on.
Avian came to us shortly after submission deadlines with an animatic of Miss Officer, including a recording of the lines for voice actors. She wanted to know if it was enough. Zof and I were completely knocked on our butts because she nailed Miss Officer’s look, acting, and personality, added her own touches to the scenario including a background and a brief appearance by Mr. Truffles based off only a few drawings. Was it enough? She’s our lead animator for a reason and we love her to bits.
For those interested in pursuing a career in animation, many of the positions are in TV and even in film, you usually need to show you can draw on model. This means that for everything you’ve heard about plagiarism (which you should never do), you’ll need to learn how to draw the characters and style and other people’s work exactly like how they were designed by someone else These production papers usually don’t leave the studio for confidentiality reasons, but we wanted to show our process and how Avian figured out how to do a turnaround of Miss Officer from Ami’s original designs.
These is a brief breakdown of what a model sheet looks like. You usually get a front, side, ¾ and rear angle of the character, usually with examples of them in action, how to draw this part of their body, how not to draw it, what their personality is like and not like, and these are your guides for keeping the character on point. When you apply for an animation, layout, or storyboard job, you usually get a test to show you know how to do the work and you can stay on model. The better grasp you have of the characters, the less work the director has to do, the less likely you have to do retakes, and the more likely the episode gets delivered on time and on budget.
For an excellent resource on model sheets and how important it is to stick to it, you should check out The Simpsons Handbook: Secret Tips From the Pros, which is a how to draw book by the actual animation artists on The Simpsons and you get to see how much detail goes into these cartoons. If you want to see what happens when you don’t stay on model, check out the special features of The Simpsons season 1 DVD, and watch the unaired episode with the commentary on. Despite how Mr. Brooks feels, I think it’s an excellent experimental take on The Simpsons, but I respect why it was important for them to clean up the look. :)
In the mean time, thank you Avian for your brilliant model sheet! Stay tuned for more art updates!
In which there is a question of whose heart belongs to whom, and Regina makes it clear what her thoughts are on the matter. Companion piece to (Pretty) Woman. For @belleoftheballpoint, who requested a scene about just how that lipstick wound up all over Robin’s face and clothes. 2k. [ffn | ao3]
They’d gone to bed later than usual that night, after a row over something rather trivial had left them both spent and simmering with unfinished anger.
He had been the ridiculous one this time, Robin knew – they were in the middle of a job and he really ought to have kept a level head, but the fact of the matter was that he never could seem to think objectively whenever the Sheriff of Nottingham was involved.
“You’re being absurd,” Regina had scolded him heatedly while he nursed his throbbing hand, sincerely hoping that he hadn’t broken something else apart from that smug bastard’s nose. “We talked about this, Robin.”
“Odd,” he’d shot back, “I don’t recall discussing the necessity of having his bloody tongue down your throat – or was that part of the plan implied when you told me the Sheriff would be taken care of?”
Older model of the 1911′s that Auto Ordnance sold before I believe Kahr took over production. Note the slightly angled rear slide serrations and adjustable sight. The wrap-around Pachmayr grips always make me think of the much bigger LAR Grizzly 1911. (GRH)
Chinese AK variant that was imported into the U.S by Norinco and Polytech. They were originally brought in as standard semi-auto AK’s but later models were made into sporting configurations to meet ban requirements. There are also two types of receivers you’ll encounter with MAK-90′s, not counting milled versus stamped. MAK-90′s will have either a regular straight cut rear receiver or an angled receiver. (GRH)