Most prevalent galra ears (from the flashback episode. Zarkon’s ears are also like this but I can’t get a profile shot):
(Ezor also has this type of ears despite not being fully galra, although her lobes may be slightly longer than full galra)
Half galra half altean ears:
Lotor’s ears seem to be an even mix of altean ears and prevalent galra ears. The top part is more angular and slightly longer than altean ears and, though he doesn’t have the elongated lobes of the galra ears, his lobes do seem significantly different to the alteans- more pronounced and squared.
I don’t know if these are deliberate design choices but I’d like to think they are and the vld crew is as nitpicky about design as I am.
If they are deliberate, I can’t help but wonder about Acxa:
Her ears look even less galra than Lotor’s, with the top part almost identical in shape and length to altean ears. The difference is with the lobe, where Acxa’s, similarly to Lotor’s, are more pronounced and squared.
This design choice (and her more ~human~ appearance than the other generals) makes me wonder what exactly Acxa’s background is. Combined with her obvious future significance (apparent by her meeting Keith in the weblum and then the time taken to animate his recognition of her) I find myself yet again asking:
inspired by tom looking hot as fuck while boxing (gif credit to tomhollanddaily)
warnings; lots of cursing, plenty of smut and also tom just being his hot self
Tom decided he wanted to take up boxing as part of his training for Spider-man, and he knew you were a skilled boxer - you’d been training for 8 years and had plenty of ring experience - therefore asked if you would spar with him, when he wasn’t training with his personal trainer. Of course you agreed, but you were very cautious as you never wanted to hurt your boyfriend. A few weeks, and many personal training sessions at the gym later, Tom brought up going to the gym with you for a little spar, which you agreed to with a smile.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.” You tell him.
“I’m not worried, darling, I know you’d never hurt me.” Was his response, smiling at you as he said this. You kiss his nose and go to get changed into some workout clothes.
Whilst Tom knew about your experience and skill set, he’d never seen you in competitions before, therefore slightly underestimated your actual skill level. You get to the gym and warm up together, then put your wraps and gloves on to start sparring. Boxing is one of the only times where you’re absolutely in your zone, your footwork is sharp and fast, your guard never dropping, blocking every punch that comes your way, rolling under every hook, countering with jabs and uppercuts - the adrenaline pumping through your body, fuelling your energy.
Tom goes easy on you - although he’s not yet as skilled as yourself, he is a fair bit stronger making his blows more impactful - however all coherent thought flies out the window with you when you step into the ring, and as you roll under a hook from Tom, you throw a right cross. Unfortunately, your boyfriend was unable to see the punch in time, and got hit square in the face, causing him to stumble back a little.
“Shit!” You gasp, seeing Tom’s eyes water. You hated seeing him in pain, and your stomach immediately drops with guilt, knowing that you’re the reason he’s hurt.
“Nice punch, babe!” He says, laughing, as if he hadn’t just been punched in the face.
“Tom, I’m so sorry! I completely wasn’t thinking - oh, baby, I’m so sorry - we need to get you some ice,” you ramble on, still in shock that you punched Tom in his face.
“Baby, stop fussing,” he tells you, taking his wraps and gloves off, “I didn’t see that punch quick enough, my reflexes need working on, don’t blame yourself darling.”
Tom walks closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other guiding your chin up to look him in the eyes.
“Besides, you look so damn hot when you spar, I couldn’t help but be a little distracted.” He smirks down at you and leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back, softly at first, your wrapped hands going around his neck, playing with his hair. Tom deepens the kiss, bringing you closer to him with his grip on your waist, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip.
“Tom, not here,” you tell him, pulling away from the kiss.
“I can’t wait to fuck you senseless, darling.” He tells you, smirking cockily.
You whine at this, gathering your gloves and water bottle and practically running out of the gym, Tom hot on your heels.
The car ride home is full of sexual tension, Tom’s hand coming to rest on your thigh, teasingly running a finger along your inner thigh.
You reach down to entwine your fingers with Tom’s hand - mostly to stop his teasing fingers, but also to just hold him. You couldn’t help but stare at him the whole journey home, admiring his side profile. He’s still sweaty from the workout, his muscles are more prominent as he grips the steering wheel with one hand; he looks incredible like this. Luckily, the journey home was fairly short - you were back at your shared flat in about 5 minutes.
The moment you’re both inside and the door is closed you’re pinned against it. Tom’s strong arms lift yours above your head, holding them there with one hand, while the other wraps around your hair, guiding your lips to his. You moan into the kiss, allowing Tom’s tongue to slip past your lips. He kisses you deeply, you reciprocating just as passionately, both of you letting out grunts and groans of pleasure.
Tom’s hand unwraps from in your hair and slides down to your ass, which he squeezes roughly, emitting another groan from you. You’re both breathless, panting into the kiss. Tom’s hand grips your ass firmly as he lifts you up, you wrapping your legs around his waist. You continue kissing as he lets go of your arms with his other hand, bringing it down to your ass to support you against him. Your hands immediately cup his face as you continue the kiss, Tom guiding you both to the sofa. He sits down, your legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, causing you to sit on his lap. You reposition yourself so you’re straddling Tom, your knees on either side of his hips, as his hands travel to the hem of your t shirt, breaking apart from the kiss to pull the tight top over your head, leaving you in your sports bra and leggings. You lean back in to kiss Tom as his hands now rest on your hips, you’re both panting and breathing heavily, his hands roam the surface of your hips and ass, while yours travel down his torso, feeling his abs. You start to kiss down Tom’s neck whilst he tilts his head back, his arousal evident beneath you. You grind against him slowly, sucking on the skin where his neck meets his shoulder, leaving a small bruise.
“God, darling, you’re so fucking good.” He pants as you continue sucking his neck, grinding down onto his bulge slowly, his hands guiding your hips.
You pull Tom’s top off and over his head, once again feelings his abs beneath your touch. His chest is glistening with a sweat, you rest your hands there, still moving your hips back and forth on his cock. Tom reaches a hand into your hair and pulls you back in for another kiss, still grinding against his cock. You push your torso against his, the feeling of his hot skin against yours adding to your arousal. Tom grips your ass in his hands, guiding your movements against his bulge, causing you to rock against him faster.
“Take these off, sweetheart.” He tells you, referencing your workout leggings. You stand up briefly to pull the article of clothing off, while Tom pulls his own workout shorts down, leaving him in his boxers. You immediately sit back on Tom’s lap, returning to your previous position, but now with less layers between you. You kiss him again, cupping his face with one hand, the other resting in his hair. His hands go back to your bum, squeezing the flesh and guiding you along his cock.
“God, I love your ass.” He tells you, while you kiss down his neck again, your hips still grinding against Tom’s erection. He grunts as you speed up your movements, while you kiss along the areas of his neck that make him squirm beneath you.
“Tom, babe, I need you.” You breathe onto his neck, your hand still grasping his luscious locks, “you make me so wet.” You whisper this into his ear, causing Tom to let out a growl. He slips one hand between you, where your pussy is rubbing along his bulge, feeling how wet you are. He groans as he looks back up into your eyes, feeling you through your underwear.
“Shit, baby, you’re so wet for me.” You groan as he says this, still running his finger along your soaking pussy through your underwear.
“Tom, quit teasing,” you moan as he begins to tease your clit through the cotton fabric, “I need you to fuck me.”
“Fuck, darling, anything for you.” He tells you as he works on getting your underwear off, you lift up so he can slide the fabric down your thighs, you take them off the rest of the way as Tom lifts his hips to pull his own boxers off.
You sit back down on his legs, one of your hands reaching down to stroke his cock, you tease the tip with your thumb, spreading his precum. Tom throws his head back against the sofa, moaning loudly, your hand twisting up and down his hard cock. This exposes his neck to you, allowing you to reach down and leave a trail of open mouthed kisses up his neck leading to his jaw, where you suck another hickey.
“Darling, I need to come inside you. Please.” His hands are gripping your hips tightly as his head comes back up to face you, your movements on his cock becoming too much for him, unable to control his rolling hips.
“Well, since you asked so nicely.” You tease him, smiling down at him as you guide the tip of his cock to your wet entrance. You slowly sink down onto him, Tom once again throwing his head back in pleasure, feeling your tightness around his cock. You moan at the feeling of him inside you, the tip hitting your g-spot as you sit down fully on him. Tom grunts and grabs your hips as you lift up slightly, only to sink back down on his cock, riding him slowly. You lean forward, hands clutching the sofa, on either side of Tom’s head, causing your boobs to push against Tom’s bare chest.
“Take this off, baby.” He tells you, referring to your sports bra. You sit back to take the garment off, pulling it over your head and throwing it somewhere across the room.
You lean back down, holding Tom’s jaw in place, leaving trails of kisses up his neck to his jaw, your hips still moving up and down his cock.
He groans as he thrusts up into you, your pussy feeling incredible around him. You both are sweating from the hot sex as well as your previous gym session, all the exercise causing you to perspire. This makes your body slip against Tom’s easily, you still riding him whilst your torsos push together, Tom reaching a hand to your upper back keeping you pressed against him. Your slick bodies move together as you fuck, your hips coming up only to slam back down onto Tom’s dick, the sound of skin slapping skin can be heard throughout the living room.
“Shit, babe, I’m so close.” Tom is panting at this point, each of his words punctuated by a thrust into you, his voice shaky from the immense pleasure he’s feeling from your sweet pussy.
“Me too, Tom, fuck.” You speed up the movement of your hips, riding Tom’s cock faster now, both of you chasing your release. Tom reaches a hand back around to your pussy, rubbing your clit, eager to make you come.
You moan louder at the unexpected stimulation, Tom’s cock hitting every perfect angle inside you, while his finger rubs figure 8’s against your sensitive clit. You feel the knot in your stomach tightening, causing your pussy to clench around Tom’s thickness. Tom moans loudly at this, the feeling of your pussy clenching him making him come undone. He comes inside you with one last hard thrust, you sat fully on his cock, his finger still rubbing your clit. You come afterwards, the feeling of Tom still thrusting into you post orgasm along with his finger rubbing circles on your clit brings you to the edge. You arch your back, breasts pushing against Tom once again, legs shaking from the intense orgasm.
You collapse into Tom, head resting in the crook of his neck, arms on either side of his head on the sofa. One of Tom’s hands is around your waist, while the other one runs through your hair. Your breathing slows after a while, you could fall asleep like this.
“I think we should clean up and get to bed, sweet, don’t you?” Tom asks, noticing your sleepy state.
“Mhm.” You respond, too tired to form a coherent sentence.
Tom let’s out a breathy chuckle at your sleepiness, and carries you to your shared bedroom, laying you on the soft sheets.
“I’ll just be a second,” he tells you, while heading to the bathroom to grab a damp towel. He returns and cleans your legs, before cleaning himself up. He grabs a t shirt of his for you to wear, and a pair of boxers for himself. You pull the t shirt on, and crawl under the covers, Tom following closely behind. He pulls your body against him, the warmth of his chest and his fingers running through your hair lulling you to sleep.
Did i not say that I had a lot of ideas for this one. Luckily i also had the entire weekend off from work so I was able to write down a lot of my ideas, so here’s part 3. enjoy, sweaties.
Summary: Going on a Hike with Minseok isn’t you ideal date, but everything that comes with the date is the undeniably perfect.
Word Count: 2,676
Characters: Reader (Y/N), Minseok, Luna
“I thought you said this was going to be a hike?” You asked him as you walked over to the entrance of a beautiful, green walkway. The walkway was a wooden bridge built over shallow green pools and small flows of water, tiny orange and white fish swam in the pools, and dragonflies hovered close over the water.
“It’s less of a hike and more of a relaxing walk.” he responded, reaching his arms around your waist, and guiding you forward onto the bridge.
“I prepared myself all week for a hike. I hate hikes. I got ready for nothing.”
Can you give advice on how to draw side profiles? (If it's alright!)
this is just the way i do side profiles, but i did a really quick generic head side shot to show how I work, since I think the only way to really give advice is to show how i do it.
1. start with a circle. i always start with a circle.
2. i draw a guide line to show the front of the face and the approximate location of the eye. that horizontal line shows the general direction of the eyes. Normally, you’d curve it to guide your drawing to be more dimensional, but I have definitely become pretty lazy with how i do my guidelines as time has passed.
3. add more guides. here’s a jaw, neck and some of the back of the head.
4. i’ve gotten pretty lazy with knowing how i draw, so i just kind of know where i put noses and the curve of the nose and the eye placement. none of this is really all that accurate to anatomy, but this is just the point where I put features on. I also do fix what i know is off (the back of the head is usually too flat when i draw it), and get it ready for lining. But I did draw a crude sketch to kind of show what kind of guidelines you can draw for these features.
5. a guide to where the nose and eyes and mouth kind of just end up. go into as much or little detail as you want. notice how the top of the eye lines up with the top of the ear, and the bottom of the nose lines up with the bottom of the ear. The eyebrow and eye usually line up on the same vertical line, and the mouth at a resting state is usually on the same vertical line as the eyebrow and eye.
6. expanding on detail
7. here’s another side view, but tilting the angle. you can see how the horizontal line is used here to do a different angle face.
a lot of this comes with practice and observation. Draw from life and just keep practicing. do a whole page of side profiles. do a page of realistic side profiles, do a page of cartoon profiles. draw them until you’re sure that you have improved, then draw some more.
this is just how i do things, and i’m not trying to teach you how to be good at anatomy here (the way i draw is so off of realism that it’s laughable), but hopefully this helped a little bit with side profiles.
Michelle Fairley interview: 'Hollywood? I hate everything about it'
After her shocking turn as Catelyn Stark in Game of Thrones, Michelle Fairley tells Serena Davies why she’s switching Westeros for the West End
Of all the lesser-known actors upon whom Game of Thrones has endowed instant celebrity, Michelle Fairley may be the most deserving. The hit fantasy series has displayed a rare knack for casting stalwarts of the London stage whose names scarcely register beyond the West End, and letting them loose to steal plum scenes of the bloody, blistering saga from under the noses of the mainly American ensemble. On the whole, even the higher profile actors from this side of the Atlantic have been given little more than extended cameos: Ciarán Hinds as Mance Rayder, an unkempt leader of a wild tribe, for example; or David Bradley as a sadistic, ancient lord, Walder Frey.
But Fairley, a Northern Ireland-born actress who has been based in London since 1986 – and given standout performances in everything from Oleanna at the Royal Court in 1993 to Brian Friel’s Dancing at Lughnasa at the Old Vic in 2009 – got rather freer rein in Westeros. For three seasons she played Catelyn Stark, first wife, then widow of the leader of the North, Ned Stark. Proud parent to a clan depleted in the cruellest of ways, Catelyn is a towering figure. Fairley played her with light flashing from her eyes, as a maternal Boadicea. Along with Peter Dinklage’s scheming dwarf, hers has arguably been the series’ greatest performance.
She was offered the part after the Game of Thrones writers saw her play Iago’s wife Emilia in Othello at the Donmar Warehouse in 2008. Now she’s returning to the same stage in a revival of Abi Morgan’s 2000 play Splendour. “I think in retrospect [the writers] needed somebody to go on an emotional journey,” she tells me. “Catelyn goes through the loss of her husband, the loss of her children and eventually makes the decision to kill herself because she thinks that there’s nothing left to live for – and they thought, because of the final scenes in Othello, that I could maybe achieve that for them.”
At the end of Othello, Fairley’s Emilia was scrunched on the floor, raw and guttural, as she exposed her husband’s sins. In her stint on Game of Thrones, culminating in the terrifying scene known as the Red Wedding, Catelyn was also raw but standing tall, slitting the throat of her enemy’s wife, even though she knew that her violent actions would precipitate her own death. Fairley says that the episode’s director David Nutter told her to play the scene “on a level” with her character’s nemesis, Walder Frey. “It was not to be as a woman pleading with him. It was to be commanding in some way. That they are two equals meeting each other.”
The characters of Emilia and Catelyn share both a nobility and a cavalier attitude to the consequences of their actions. “They are very intelligent and strong and they know how to play the game, but they’re mainly operating in men’s worlds,” says Fairley, which links the characters to her role in Splendour. As Genevieve, she’s best friend to the wife of a dictator whose unnamed regime is collapsing around him. The piece, says Fairley, is “a reminder that when the history of these kinds of events is told it’s always from the male point of view”.
Morgan, as the screenwriter of TV’s Sex Traffic and The Iron Lady, the intimate biopic of Margaret Thatcher, has form in bucking this trend. Splendour presents us with four women stuck in a room together in the presidential palace as all about them is falling apart. As we get to know them better the playwright digs out themes of identity and memory. Genevieve, bereft of her family, has had to learn how to suck up to the dictator’s wife in recent years in order to survive. “She’s a woman who puts on many fronts,” says Fairley. “She is a quiet, guarded person who has maintained a friendship with this woman out of need. She has made such an effort to become someone else.”
I meet Fairley, 52, during her lunch break from rehearsals, in the Donmar offices, a few blocks from the theatre. She is highly strung and birdlike; she quivers when she talks, as if her voice, several semitones lower than average, is vibrating through her.
Her return to the stage follows a spate of American screen roles (also including Suits, 24 and a forthcoming film version of Moby-Dick called In the Heart of the Sea). She’s notched up a number of appearances on British television over the years as well, but says that theatre remains her preference. She’s certainly immune to the charms of Hollywood: “I hate the place,” she says. “I hate that world. I hate everything about it.”
Fairley lives on her own in Kensal Rise, west London, having separated from her partner of seven years three years ago. “My decision to be on my own was my decision,” she says. “There are times when you have to face the truth, you have to face reality in your life and you either go in with someone or you go, ‘No, I want a change, I need a change. It’s my life’. It was a voice in your head that you can’t not listen to. Though you ignore it for a long time.”
She doesn’t have children. “I missed the gene. I was never born with that in my psyche, in my body. My sister Simone, from very young, you could tell instantly she did. I have many nieces and nephews and I am godmother to many children but it’s never been in me. Sounds awful, doesn’t it?
“I expect people to always go, ‘Oh my God, cold b—-’. Why? Why have children just because I’ve got a womb?”
I say it’s interesting since those who first encountered Fairley in Game of Thrones could be forgiven for thinking of her as the ultimate matriarch.
“And I’m the antithesis,” she says, laughing deeply.
“Do you know, I love people. I have a responsibility thing, though. I’d be terrified of f—ing someone else up. I’m a coward. I should want to: I’m from one of six.”
Fairley is the second in the pecking order. She grew up in Co Antrim where her father owned a number of pubs and her mother worked as a nurse before giving up to raise her children. None of the rest of the family acts, though they are “big readers and musicians”. What Fairley learnt from her parents, she says, was a “very strong work ethic. A respect for others and to be truthful. To be honest. And to know that you are no better than anybody else.
“My parents, they had a business in the North when the time was not easy,” she says. “But their pub and their premises were always mixed – Catholic and Protestant.”
“Born Catholic”, as she puts it, she’s no longer practising though, “there are things about that that I carry with me even so. Guilt, mainly.
“I was taught by nuns and I could see there were nuns who were unhappy. But that’s life. The whole thing about life is questioning yourself and your value in it, what is important to you, without being narcissistic.”
When the interview ends, Fairley goes off to be shot by our photographer (something she says she “hates and has never gotten used to”), leaving her lunch untouched. Before she leaves, she tells me how nervous she still gets before every performance. She says when she took on Splendour, a tough piece: “I thought, right, this is going to f—ing kill me but I want to do it.” Make no mistake, Fairley knows what’s important to her.
Can I give you a one-word prompt? If so, the word is PROMPT ;)
After the first night that they made love to each other,
Carol slept more deeply and more restfully than she had in years. The sex had
been hungry and messy and short, but, God, the release of it, just being that
close and that immersed in each other…It had been bliss.
She woke up at dawn out of the habit, to the cool, empty side
of the bed and the sound of the shower running. The door to the adjoining
bathroom was half open, and she’d gotten one good look of Daryl’s whole side
profile in the shower, before sleep was tugging her back under again.
The next time she woke, the sun was pushing more light into
the room and she was alone. The smell of something cooking was drifted up from
downstairs, but she couldn’t hear any movement in the house. Laboriously, she
climbed out of bed, threw on a pair of shorts and a dark green camisole, and
headed down to investigate. Her body ached a little, and there were a few
hickeys and other love marks rising across her skin. She wore them proudly as
she headed into the kitchen.
Daryl had his back to her and looked to be the only one on
the entire first floor. She almost double took, having never seen him like
this. It looked like he’d just thrown on whatever clothes were nearest that morning
too: grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. She could see the tattoo on his
shoulder blade through the thin fabric of the shirt, where it was tighter
across his broad shoulders, hanging more loosely down around his waist.
He was rustling something over the stove, maybe powdered
eggs or something quick and easy. It could have been stir fried grass for all
Carol cared, because, mercy, she just wanted to stand there and look at him.
Touch him. Be near to him. So that was what she did.
Carol drew closer, across the kitchen in three languid
strides. Daryl heard her and half-glanced behind him, but not far enough to
meet her eyes, before he was turning his attention back to making breakfast.
She walked directly up behind him and, without preamble, looped her arms around
his middle. She folded her hands around her forearms in a hug, pulling herself
flush up against his back.
“Mornin’,” he greeted, not breaking stride as he fiddled
with the skillet.
Carol hummed as she breathed in the groove of his spine
against her cheek. He smelled like generic soap and fresh cotton and a third
element that was just something uniquely Daryl. It was intoxicating, and she
closed her eyes.
“You didn’t wake me up,” she teased lightly. “I’d have
joined you in the shower.”
“Nah, figured I’d let you sleep,” he replied. “Besides, I
wanted to, uh, surprise you.”
She pulled away just enough to look around his elbow and see
what he was concocting. Powdered eggs, as she’d suspected.
“You were going to make me breakfast in bed?” She smiled.
“Well…now it’s just breakfast,” he snorted.
She wiggled against him slightly, causing them both to sway
a bit in place. “What prompted this?”
Daryl put the hot skillet on the cold burner and shut off
the stove top, swiveling around in her embrace to look at her. His hair was
fluffing out as it dried from the shower, sticking up in odd directions.
“Did you really just ask me that?” he asked with a lopsided
She leaned in, pushing up on her tiptoes a bit, and kissed
him tenderly on the lips.
“That’s very romantic. Thank you,” she murmured against his
He returned the kiss, then followed it with a brief one on her
nose. “I can be romantic sometimes.”