#no guyliner no man bun

[personinthepalace]

The Golden Blade looks quite different without his eyeliner 😆

from Jonathan Stroud's twitter

[uhzuku]

𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍’ 𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑! | 𝐒. 𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: tell me that you want me, that's the shit i always hear!

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: my hero academia | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: aizawa shouta/m!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 4.00k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: t4t, transmasc aizawa, transmasc reader, switch aizawa, switch reader, daddy kink, reader and aizawa both still have pussies, age gap ( aizawa is 30 & reader is in their early 20s ), use of the word cunt a couple times?? once at least, ✨guyliner✨, public sex ( in a changing room ), BUSH! PUBES! DA WHOLE JUNGLE!, reader is a fucking freak for aizawa ngl, t-dick haver aizawa ( moans ), clits referred to as cocks ( bc yum ), scissoring, grinding, fingering, blowjobs, vibrators.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: i have no willpower when it comes to this man, so happy pride, fuckers. | 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃! — @suyacho @p-ersus @herohibiscus @cathybarn @suzuki-violin-school @choerry-picking @fyodior @satorusdivinity .

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

Tick, tick, tick, tick. 

The large clock hanging on the far wall of the fancy boutique you and your boyfriend were in echoes loudly in your ears. On your lap in front of you is a small spread of paperwork, tests you were helping him grade in between trying on new clothes  for a get-together with the other teachers that was only a couple days away. You’d already decided on a dark green sweater with a pair of dark brown pants and a matching winter jacket, but Shouta had been indecisive; he quite honestly didn’t want to go to the little event at all, but after both consistent whining from his two friends and you adding in how happy it would make them he’d eventually sighed and agreed. 

“This should be fine for the thing Nem’s throwing, right?” Comes his voice from the changing room as he flicks open the lock, and you can hear the discomfort in his voice — not from the clothes, as he’d picked those out himself with only a little input from you on the pants, but from how long today had gone on. He’d been indecisive all afternoon, uncommonly more self-conscious than usual, and was getting tired — and if you were completely honest you weren’t far behind him; it had been a long day of shopping, and you could only thank your foresight to order two new pairs of comfortable dress shoes ahead of time so the trip wouldn’t be drawn out even further. Were they really needed? No, you both had a pair at home — but why not go all out? At the very least it would make Nemuri and Hizashi happy, which was all you and Shouta ever really wanted.  

You glance up from marking Ashido’s frankly confusing essay and are startled by the large lump that settles itself comfortably in your throat. Your partner is standing there in the doorway, looking as awkward as he clearly feels, but by God his hair is pulled back in a messy bun and the black turtleneck he’d picked clings to him oh-so-well. The grey slacks you’d helped him pick out fit just as perfectly as you’d known they would, and you have to make the conscious decision to swallow the drool that had began pooling in your mouth. 

“Well?” he asks, trying and failing to hide the soft nervous edge in his voice, and you blink a few times to clear your head before nodding. This wasn’t the time to want to drop to your knees, you had to make sure he felt comfortable. 

“Oh, absolutely. Those’re the ones, if you like ‘em as much as I do. Those’re it,” you ramble, your eyes drinking him in greedily as he sends you the tiniest of fond smiles. “Get back in there ‘nd take your clothes off and we might be able to pick up food from your favorite place on the way home.” 

That’s seemingly more than enough incentive for him and, with a blatantly relieved heavy exhale, he retreats back into the changing room, which almost immediately is filled with the sound of cloth ruffling as he changes back into the dark jeans and loose navy sweater he’d come shopping in. You sit there idly, your pen tapping against your lip, before you groan and shove all of the first year class’s tests into the folder Shouta had brought them in and rush over to the door. 

You knock hard and fast, startling him judging by the slightly surprised grunt that you hear from inside, and upon Shouta opening the door a little with his hair ever so slightly messier from pulling on the shirt he’d come in you force yourself inside, locking the door behind you. His eyes are wide and startled as he takes you in, and it would almost be funny if you weren’t so god-forsakenly horny for him right now. You’d not expected that the sight of him all dressed up would get you this fucking hard and wanting, but really that was on you; your boyfriend was sexy as hell in nothing but a stained t-shirt and boxers with a line of dried drool still on his face from a deep, well-enjoyed sleep and you’d be raring to go just from the sight of him ( in any setting, really ), so you should’ve known that your paper-thin willpower would crumble and you’d pin him in the changing room like you were currently. 

“What the fuck-?” He starts, surprised as you corrall him back against one of the walls, far too focused on the way you had straddled and were subtly grinding on the thigh he’d unconsciously stuck between your legs as he’d backed up.

“Need you — take your fucking pants back off,” you whisper pleasingly, nipping at his stubbled jaw and tugging at his belt loops insistently. His rough hands find yours and squeeze, and you can hear the way his breathing picks up a little as he gets into it. 

“What?!” he asks, wide-eyed in alarm as he glances back at the locked changing room door. It may be locked, but the two of you were in public — you could be caught at any fucking second, and you could be arrested. Heat pools in his lower stomach at the thought, and for a brief moment, Shouta’s brain stutters as he begins considering what he’d just learned about himself. 

Fuck. He likes it. 

“Pants off, now!” you repeat ever-so-grumpily while he has this little revelation, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. You don’t miss the way his dark eyes follow it without missing a beat as he raises an eyebrow, his own tongue flicking out to mirror your movement. 

“Why?”

“Gotta suck your fuckin’ cock babe,” you groan, grinding low and hard against his knee. Your own hard cock is pinned perfectly between your crotch and his thigh, and you moan lowly into the empty air as a familiar twinge twists through your belly. “Need it in my mouth, please.”

His hands fumble with the buttons and zipper of his jeans for a moment before pushing them down to pool around his muscled thighs, and a soft whine bubbles up in your throat at the sight of him. He’s hard, like you knew he would be, and you moan at the very thought of getting to taste him, dropping to your knees and yanking his jeans off the rest of the way before throwing one of his legs over your shoulder. If anyone were to walk in they’d see all of him, and that just wasn’t allowed — so obviously taking him into your mouth to potentially save his modesty was the only correct course of action! You were so thoughtful.

“Stay still,” you grunt, biting at his inner thigh before licking up from his taint all the way to his swollen cock. You don’t miss the way his thighs quiver around your head, or the way his own head falls back against the wall with a slightly harsh thud as he bites his fist to keep from whimpering — which just wouldn’t do at all.

One of your hands spreads out against his soft stomach, slowly sliding down along the trail of hair that made you drool every time all the way into the thick bush of pubes surrounding his cock. He shifts against the wall, looking down at you with his brow furrowed while throwing one arm back against said wall with his own free hand splayed flat as if it would steady him when he knows that it wouldn’t once you really got your mouth on him — and it didn’t. When you take him all the way into your mouth a sharp cry is muffled only by his fist and the urge to buck up into you is almost impossible to fight off, but you were already chiding him for moving against the wall. 

“I said be still,” you growl around your mouthful, ghosting your teeth ever so gently ( torturously ) along the length of his cock as you pull off it for a brief moment before taking him back in your mouth all over again. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—!” he whispers into where he was biting his hand, tiny tears springing up in his eyes as you drop him from your mouth all over again only to replace your tongue with fingers slicked from your own juices — and hems not much better. He’s absolutely dripping, his slickness soaking his cunt and running down his inner thighs; as you jerk his aching cock with one hand you lap it all up greedily, looking up at him through your thick lashes and grinning as you bite him again. The leg you had thrown over your shoulder pulls you closer, holding you tight against him as you bury your tongue in his entrance and have a taste from the source, and you laugh like the bastard you are when a soft wail escapes his mouth and the way his teeth dig into his palm. 

“Yeah, that’s it baby, just like that,” you croon cruelly as he gets closer and closer to coming in a changing room of all places. “It’s okay, you can come for me, you have permission…”

A sharp whine is the only response you get, and you just chuckle again and swap places with your fingers, taking him back into your mouth while gently crooking first your middle finger then your index inside him, your other hand carefully lifting him so his other leg also is thrown over your shoulder, leaving him bent in half and pressed against the wall while you suck him off. 

He unclenches his teeth from around his palm and slaps it against the back of your head, curling his fingers in your hair and tugging as you curl your fingers against his sweet spot and lap cruelly at his cock and slit. “God, please-!” he moans pleasingly, and you pull off of him and laugh. 

“There’s no God here, sweet boy,” you murmur mockingly, eyes glittering as you watch him begin to fall apart. “There’s only me and the fingers I’ve shoved up your greedy cunt.”

“Fuck!” he gasps, and bucks up into your mouth with one of his hands clamped over his mouth as his eyes flutter and roll back in his head as you work him over. His cunt clenches around you, milking your fingers greedily, and shaky moans fall from between his fingers like musical notes from an instrument. You don’t let up, sucking his cock and fingering him through his orgasm as he moans and cries into his palm. At some point while you’d been teasing him tears had sprung up in his eyes and had now started running down his cheeks — not much, just three little drops, but they were a sign of a job well done, and as you helped him down from your shoulders onto shaky legs and sat back on your calves with a dirty grin, he glares at you. 

“Fuck you,” he hisses through gritted teeth, knees shaking ever so slightly, and you just gather the juices he’d left on your lips and chin with your thumb before sucking it clean, never breaking eye contact with him. You knew he’d enjoyed himself and that he was just a little embarrassed, and you weren’t offended in the slightest. After all, between getting cursed at and getting to hear the way he’d moaned so prettily for you, it was a fair exchange in your opinion. 

“What can I say? I missed lunch,” you purr, standing then pulling him down to your height to kiss him slow and deep. He moans softly into your mouth, melting into your touch like always until you reluctantly pull away, picking up the pants and shirt. 

“I should get dressed,” he mutters, and you nod with a small grin. 

“Yeah, you should,” you agree, throwing the clothes over one arm. “I’ll collect all the paperwork for your class and meet you by the register. I promised you your favorite takeout, and after that performance, you’re definitely getting it.”

You don’t have to look at him to know how hot his cheeks are burning from embarrassment, and you fight off the urge to snicker when he hisses a strained, “I hate you!” your way. 

“Didn’t sound that way a couple minutes ago!” you respond in a sing-song voice, gently closing. the door and doing exactly as you’d said you would. a minute or so after the transaction goes through, Shouta makes his appearance from the back, walking into view on still-shaky legs. He shoots you a half-hearted glare, but still sidles up to you and grabs at your hand. 

“Food now,” he grunts quietly, “Then home.” You nod. 

“Yeah, babe, food and then home.”

“Don’t forget that we have the thing Nem’s hosting tonight, hun,” you call over your shoulder without tearing your eyes from the mirror, ever so carefully drawing a line of eyeliner on your top eyelid. A groan, muffled by a pillow, is the initial response you get and you fight hard to not laugh and jostle yourself. 

“You told me this morning, then texted at lunch,” comes a voice just as muffled as the groan you’d gotten, Shouta’s voice filled with such bother that you have to take away the eyeliner stick before you either stab yourself or make it look like you were wearing face paint. Instead of risking it again, you quickly swipe some onto your bottom lid then begin to smudge it out, smiling when he starts the complaining you knew was coming. “Do we really have to go? Nemuri and Hizashi won’t be surprised if we don’t, they know we don’t like going out. We could skip it.”

“We could, yeah,” you say softly, and you practically hear his ears metaphorically perk up before you crush his hopes and dreams when you say, “But we are going. We promised her, after all.”

“Why?!” He whines, face-planting back into the pillow, and you laugh for real this time, turning and looking at him with a grin while blowing some hair out of your eyes. One of your favorite parts of dating Shouta was being trusted with the hidden parts of him, the parts where he allowed himself to be whiny and greedy instead of a grump who acted like he was unshakeable. Honestly, maybe those damn kids of his were also helping him loosen up some ( the first class he’d kept all twenty of and even added one to! apparently miracles can happen! ), and you considered it a good sign. 

“Because we’re such good friends,” you say through a smile, crossing your arms. He pulls up from the pillow to throw a half-hearted, meaningless glare your way, only for his eyes to widen a little. You raise an eyebrow, barely masking your concern as you watch how he watches you, and you’re about to ask if everything is alright when you notice just how wide his pupils have blown and suddenly quiver in the knees ever so slightly. 

That tiny bit of an opening is all it takes, and before you know it your boyfriend’s flipped off the couch and is stalking towards you, looking wholly like a god to worship ( which you would ). His hands, big and rough and strong, grab at your hips with one while the other grips your chin and tilts your face up seconds before locking lips with you in a kiss that has your head spinning. 

“Bed, now,” he murmurs into your mouth, his tongue arcing across yours moments before he bites at your bottom lip. He keeps kissing you, leading you towards the bedroom while tugging off his clothes and yours in return. 

“Shouta, baby, we’ll be late-!” you whimper, and he scoffs, yanking you into the bedroom.

“Who fuckin’ cares?” he grunts noncommittally, kicking his underwear away and tugging at your own. “Nem’ll be happy just to see us show up at all, she won’t give a damn if we’re late.”

Knowing he was right and that you couldn’t really argue with that ( And did you even want to? Hell no. ) you just let him manhandle you onto your back on the bed, tilting your head to the side so he can bite and kiss his way across your neck in the way you both like. 

You moan softly as he sucks a love bite into the side of your jaw where it just met your neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair only for him to grab both of your wrists in one hand and slam them onto the mattress above your head. One of his knees nestles itself between your legs and begins to grind against your dick, and you groan as a familiar heat makes itself known in your belly. 

“F-Fuck, Shouta, please-!” you moan, hooking a leg behind his knee to stabilize yourself as you grind down on his knee while still on your back. He laughs and takes his knee away, and you curse under your breath as he climbs onto the bed and laces his legs around yours together before yanking hard enough that your crotches slam together. In your mind you praise anyone listening for your boyfriend’s thick thighs, your nails digging into his skin as he starts rolling his hips against yours while digging around in the drawer of his nightstand for lube. 

After a minute or so he finds it and, not even bothering to stop grinding, squeezes a fair amount between the two of you. As intended, each roll of your hips becomes smoother and easier, and for a moment the two of you do nothing but pant and moan as your dicks and cunts grind together. Words aren’t easy, and you get to watch with greedy eyes and a drool-filled mouth as Shouta’s head falls back, his mouth open as he moans for you. His fingers on one hand clench at the sheets and blankets while the other reaches out for you, and you lock fingers with him and squeeze while the two of you grind. With every deep roll of your hips, Shouta’s cock dips inside for the briefest second before slowly grinding up your slit and rolling over your own smaller cock, each thrust making your thighs shake and your hole clench around nothing. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-!” Shouta groans, sitting up and grabbing one of your legs. He holds it up and grips your thigh tight, straddling your other leg before mashing your cunts together and grinding down hard.  Your eyes roll back a little and you let out loud whimpers intermingled with pants of his name. Faintly your mind registers the sound of something rattling near you, but you don’t lay it any mind until the sound and feeling of harsh vibrations pressed against your and Shouta’s cock make you shriek. Your eyes fly open and you grab at your boyfriend’s shoulders in surprise, eyes wide as you watch the way he groans and angles the vibrating wand just right and hits your cocks perfectly. 

“Oh G-God — fuck, Daddy, please!” you moan, nails digging into his back. He just moans out your name and grinds down harder, thrusting up into the bulbed head of the vibrator as well as your own cock. 

“That’s right, baby boy, call for Daddy,” he growls, pressing down hard enough to make you see stars. “Wanna feel you cum on me, baby, just like always.” His hips don’t even stutter once, and in the back of your mind you know he’s holding off from coming so he can watch you fall apart first. Typically you’d be fighting to make him come first ( because who says a little competitiveness in the bedroom is unhealthy? No one! ) but you were too close and he’d been too sexy throwing you around and manhandling you, then mounting you like the two of you were a couple of beasts in heat, and now grinding his cock and cunt against you? You never stood a chance. 

The knot that had been tying itself in your stomach with each roll of his hips starts tugging itself tighter and tighter, and sharp whines and cries punctuate the air as he kicks up the speed of the vibrator a couple of notches. “Fuck yes — More, more, so close!” You dry sob, trying not to cry when you know that your eyeliner looks so nice and you have a place to be in an hour and a half or so. 

“The fuck was that?” He snaps, pulling up to slap your cunt cruelly and make you shriek again before slamming himself and the vibrator back down on you to continue grinding. “You know fucking better, baby, try again.”

“Please, Daddy, please let me cum!” you beg, one tear running down your cheek. “Fuck, I wanna cum, please? Can I? Please?”

A sharp groan falls from his lips and his hips stutter ever so slightly, and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, baby boy, cum for Daddy — cum all over Daddy’s cock!”

Your nails dig deep into his bicep and your eyes roll back as you thrust up unto him hard, your free leg not thrown over his shoulder bracing against the mattress as the two of you race to completion while clinging to each other like one of you could possibly disappear. The knot gets tighter, then tighter, then finally snaps and the wave of euphoria you’d been chasing washes over you like a tidal wave. 

“Fuck — Fuck, cumming, cumming! Shouta, fuck!” With a shriek of your boyfriend’s name cum gushes from your hole and soaks both your boyfriend’s crotch  and the blankets beneath you both, and deep, desperate grunts from above you signal how your own boyfriend has started cumming as well. Soft murmurs and groans of your name fall from his lips as he clicks off the vibrator and tosses it to the side on the bed, but the feeling of the vibrations continue for a moment as the two of you continue to grind slowly, occasionally jerking from the overstimulation, before slowing to a stop to catch your breath. 

The two of you lay there together, chests heaving, and soak up the afterglow of your orgasms while an alarm rings in the distance, telling you it was time to leave. After a moment you groan and sit up, throwing your quivering legs over the side of the bed then staggering to the bathroom on shaky legs. “I’m going to leave you for Snipe, I swear to God,” you whine, looking at yourself in the mirror and taking in how rocked you look. Shouta laughs from the bed as he sits up and stretches, watching your reflection in the mirror from the bed. “I mean it! He’d never do this to me.”

“That’s cause he’s boring,” Shouta purrs, stalking up behind you and pressing his front to your back and fitting against you perfectly like always. “He couldn’t handle you if he tried. That’s my job.” You make a face at him in the mirror, ignoring his soft snicker and beginning fixing your hair. 

“You’re damn lucky the staff knows I smudge my eyeliner on purpose, otherwise everyone would know,” you grumble in faux annoyance, and he just chuckles and clings to your back, burying his face in the crux between your neck and shoulder. His long hair tickles against your bare skin. 

“Nem’ll know anyway,” he murmurs as the two of you clean up, occasionally flinching from touching something still oversensitive. “Zashi too, I bet.”

“Of course they will,” you groan, covering your face with one arm as Shouta wipes cum from your thighs. “They always know.” 

He just laughs again. “Let’s just go. We should get dressed again.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “…Do we have to?”

Shouta sends you a dry, deadpan look ( as if asking ‘You’re fucking kidding me, right?’ ), and you laugh. 

“Fine, fine, lets go!”

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

[icycoldninja]

Beauty Day Headcanons for the First Class SOLDIER boys!

A/N: I have always imagined the 1st class bois doing a beauty day with their S/O cause why not? They're beautiful. 💅💄

♡ Sephiroth♡

-Let's start with skincare. He's not that into skin cleansing with creams and whatnot, but will definitely put on a face mask, especially if it's Moogle or Chocobo themed.

-He will allow you to put on some eyeshadow (see pic above, not mine btw) and maybe some foundation, but lipstick is out of the question because he risks getting it on his hair.

-LOVES to have his nails painted, especially black and white. I mean come on. Why do you think he wears gloves? It's to hide his shiny, glittery nails from everyone. Paint his nails for him once and you'll find it turns into a tradition. Every weekend, you two end up sitting at the kitchen table, painting each other's nails different colors, trying out new patterns and designs. Too bad his nails have to be kept short so he can fitght or he would have long-ass coffin nails by now.

-You want to brush his hair? By all means, go right ahead! Sephiroth is a living Rapunzel; to have a beauty day and not play with his hair would be to miss out on a golden opportunity. He loves it. You love it. Everyone's happy.

-What about hairstyling, you may ask? Well, he is in EUPHORIA when you braid his hair (it's soooo relaxing) and likes to have you help him tie it into buns, pigtails, ponytails and whatnot. At the end of the day, he ends up looking like a really big, muscular kawaii girl. ✌️🩷❤️✌️

☆Genesis☆

-LOOK at this man. A total pretty boy. It's likely that you were introduced to beauty days by him, and that he dragged you onto the makeup/skincare/shiny things bandwagon.

-Will wear literally anything you want him to, eyeshadow, lipstick, blush, facemasks, cleansers, you name it, he'll let you put it on his face. That can be interpreted many ways, don't sue me for your dirty minds

-Fingernail painting? He's fine with it, but he's more into pedicures because his hands get scratched up more often than Sephiroth's do.

-When it's time to paint the footsies...hoo boy. His toes are very ticklish, so you have to pinch 'em just so or he'll be wiggling and giggling, and then his feet will end up covered in nail polish and there'll be a huge mess in general.

-Like Sephiroth, Genesis enjoys getting his hair done. He'll let you wash it, style it, tie it up into little pigtails--he's basically your living Barbie doll.

-All in all, beauty days with Genesis are lots of fun. Sometimes you guys turn on a rom-com or drama and do each other's hair while watching it. ❤️

■ Angeal ■

-Aight, this man is different from the rest. He's not that into makeup, but he will don a little blush and guyliner if you ask him to.

-Angeal's preference is skincare, believe it or not. He wants the whole package, face masks, cleansers, lotions, hydrating soaps, etc. Being in S.O.L.D.I.E.R. means you have to leave for missions often--you don't get much time to maintain your skin. As a result, Angeal is now a skincare addict and relies on you to teach him how to use the products properly and help him establish a solid routine.

-Bonus points if you buy him one of those cute headbands to push his hair back. Imagine seeing your beefy boyfriend parading around the house with bunny ears and a pink sheet mask. Adorable.

-Another thing he enjoys is massages. Yes, you read that right. Coming home from an exhausting mission and being met with a warm bubble bath and then a relaxing massage? That's his kind of heaven.

-Also wouldn't mind giving you a nice full body massage as a reward afterwards. What did I tell you about double meanings, like jeez ?

[cospple]

alright alright i did it. very poorly, might i add.

left: present day costco wearing guyliner (also earrings)

right: future costco with bangs and a man bun, also wearing guyliner and earrings

(anon who had that hc was very very smart spectacular idea on their part)

oh my god im ILL i need him so bad who said that. another great fanart fron resident fanartist. MEOW.... i lvoe him thankvyou.

- 🥩

[catball]

i ueually dont like gendered terms like my dad will go out of his way to call my bag a man purse or say i have a man bun when i put my hair up but i DO wear guyliner. that is a fact

[harrysnotechanges]

.

[unofficial-sean]

I am quite peeved over the nomenclature surrounding men using hairstyles or make--up traditionally used by women. “Man bun,” “Guyliner.” Like, come on, why do we need this classification?

[biracy]

Ik this is a stupid pet peeve but the existence of phrases like “man purse,” “man bun,” “guyliner,” and “manscara” annoy the shit out of me, in my house we call them purses, buns, eyeliner, and mascara

[penitentprodigy]

theirunluckystars replied: (( * clicks the follow button for you * :'D ))

you’re too kind to me and my anxiety thanks you lmfao ♥

theirunluckystars replied: (( * leans back in chair * see, I'm just baffled by people using the word 'dudette' because I'm always just 'isn't dude a gender neutral term?' ))

DUDETTE IS THE WORST FUCKING WORD IN THE ENTIRE WORLD IT NEEDS TO BE ERASED FOREVER

[sherlock-is-ace]

If you use terms like "man bun" and "guyliner", you're dead to me.

[iknownothingihearnothing]

Game of Thrones 8.1 “Winterfell”

OMG.

ZOMGGGGGGGG.

Them dang ol’ dang ol’ Thrones are BACK!

It’s been twenty looooooooooooong months of GoTlessess. Winter came. And left. And damn came again. And now winter has come for our heroes in the glory of springtime. 

Can’t you just hear the little birdies chirping? The bees buzzing? The white walkers moaning as they shamble beyond the wrecked Wall in their endless quest for dominance and human flesh? 

You’d be forgiven if you don’t entirely remember what happened last season. Jon bent the knee to Dany after he and some of his Merry Men--the Amazing Tormund Giantsbane included--ventured Beyond the Wall to capture a wight in order to prove to Cersei that, yes, the undead were indeed real and not a conspiracy cooked up by Ser Alyx of House Jones in order to get her to let her guard down just enough for Dany and Co. to steal her crown and she sailed in on Drogon like a badass and rescued them. No damsel in distress here. So Jon lost his King in the North status but he gained a lady friend, and by “friend”, I mean--

After seeing the wight for herself, Cersei promised to send the Lannister army up North to fight for the living. But, you know...

Gratefully, our handsome Kingslayer, however, has some scruples. Finally having had enough with Cersei’s crazy bullshit, he tells her he swore to fight for the living and that is what he is going to do, damnit, and takes himself North-way, leaving his sisterlover and their maybe bun in the oven behind in the capital. 

The biggest reveal, of course, was the confirmation of the long running theory of R+L=J. AKA, Rhaegar Targaryen went off and married Lyanna Stark in secret, she got preggies with Jon/Aegon and, dying in the Tower of Joy, Lyanna made a young Ned Stark promise he’d always take care of her son. So he lied to everyone, that he was his bastard kid to protect him from the “all Targaryens must DIE” Baratheon rule (that non-Aryan head of hair helped, I’m sure) and raised him in Winterfell as a Stark but not a Stark. 

Now Jon Snow, who started the series knowing nothing, will soon know all. 

Including that he’s technically been fucking his aunt but what’s a little incest between friends on Game of Thrones? 

Oh and also Viserion was taken out and the Night King revived him to knock down the wall. We have an undead dragon, people!

Let’s get into it, shall we?

We gots a new opening, which is cool. The now defunct Wall looks like it is entirely made of ice cube trays.

We start in on a little boy who is trying to see all the hubbub but can’t glimpse over the adults, harking back to the pilot when the Baratheon-Lannisters visited the North to offer their thanks for helping overthrow the Mad King and to hook up Sansa and the Joff. Said “hubbub” being Dany, Jon, and their army entering the North. Arya’s also there, wearing a far less fabulous outfit than Dany is, frowning at the Hound’s appearance but relieved at Gendry’s. 

He has traded a small boat for a horse.

If you were taking bets on how soon Tyrion would make a junk joke, I hope you had down “within the first few minutes”:

Varys rightfully calls him out on his hypocrisy; he hates imp jokes but loves eunuch jokes. How can he be cool with that? 

Obvs, because Tyrion has balls and Varys doesn’t, duh.

#Woke, Tyrion is not.

 As the procession moves throughout the town, people are glarin’ and starin’ and Dany is obviously uncomfortable, poor lamb. Jon tells her that Northerners don’t “accept outsiders easily”. So, to use an analogy, Jon is the one guy from his small town in Pigeon Butt, Arkansas, who is welcoming to everyone when the rest of the residents are all “You ain’t from ‘round here, are ya?” *changes magazine in rifle*

I’d be annoyed if I were Dany. I mean, lugging my ass all the way up to the damn frigid North, freezing my tits off, with a fucking army and two dragons, all to save everyone’s asses, and they’re copping a ‘tude? Pfft. Y’all can kiss my Southern butt.

One of the dragons roars and Dany smiles because at least that is familiar to her, but of course the townspeople scatter while Arya stands there grinning in delight. Dragons! Cool!

The Lady of Winterfell, however...

The look to the camera she gives is like “Oh ffs.”

Jon rides into the Winterfell courtyard and when he sees Bran for the first time since he was a boy he, delighted, hops down from his horse to hug and kiss him. “Look at you! You’re a man!” And when the robot that used to be Bran replies “Almost” like the automaton he is, Jon’s face gets, well...

And, I must add, how WEIRD it is to me that, amid all these Qyburns and Sansas and Davoses, BRANDON is a popular name in Westeros/Ye Old Timey serfdom alterna-England. To me, Brandon is THIS guy:

Brandon is Jason Priestley and a delightfully 90s name, not to mention the moniker of way too many boys I went to school with. I keep expecting to see Nat round one of the corners of Winterfell with a megaburger. 

Jon hugs Sansa and asks after Arya, who is “lurking somewhere”, and hesitantly introduces his girlfriend to his sister. It’s the nightmare Meet the Parents except the parents are dead, everyone’s about to die, and it’s fucking cold as balls. 

Dany, the poor lass, tries to ingratiate herself by complimenting Winterfell’s “beauty” (eh?) as well as Sansa’s (yes, Sophie Turner is a fox and Joe Jonas would agree) but Sansa’s having none of it:

BranBot breaks in on the Mean Girling, telling Dany that the Night King has Viserion and the Wall has been de-Walled. At the Great Hall, Young Umber says that they need more men and horses “if it pleases my Lady. And my Lord....and my Queen. Sorry.” 

The Queen thing is, uh, gonna take some getting used to. 

Sansa tells Young Umber to collect his people and Jon is called “Your Grace” after giving an order and little Lyanna Mormont, that badass, rises slowly like a boss.

She continues like “Yo, we crowned you King in the North, you gave it up, wtf are you now? Just a regular old lord, I guess?”

And Jon busts out this truth--although he was honored to be crowned, the choice was either keep his title or save the North. He chose the North. I gotta side with Jon on this one, sorry, Lyanna. I love you, but y’all Northerners are being stubborn dumbasses. Crowns and titles reallllllllly don’t mean much in the wake of DYING HORRIBLY BY LEGIONS OF UNDEAD. 

Tyrion tries to calm the storm between the Northerners and the visitors, telling them that Jon risked his life to prove he wights were a threat; the Lannister army was soon going to join them in fighting for the Not Dead cause. There are grumbles amongst the peanut gallery and Tyrion concedes that they “have not been friends in the past”--

--but they all had to work together now. Sansa, still holding onto stubborn Northern pride, wonders aloud how the hell how they are gonna feed Dothraki, Unsullied, and two dragons? “What do dragons eat anyway?”

Dany: “Whatever they want.”

Booya!

Obviously, I would bend the knee to Daenerys. I likely fall over though. Hope she doesn’t mind.

Tyrion goes to speak to Sansa, whom he has not seen since season four, Joffrey’s non-wedding to Margaery, to be precise. You remember that.

Yes, Sansa, it indeed had its moments. Unfortunately, with Joffrey gone, we got Ramsay in his place so....

Sansa apologizes belatedly for bolting right after the Joff’s murder, which, admittedly, was a wee bit hard for Tyrion to explain, her being his wife and all. He kinda had to go to trial. Hire Oberyn to fight the Mountain for him. Again, we all know how that turned out.

Squishy squishy!

Sansa also can’t believe Tyrion truly is convinced the Lannister army is on its way to the North based on Cersei’s word alone. “I used to think you were the cleverest man alive,” she lays down before walking away.

Sansa has turned into Shade-sa. 

Now it’s time for a Jon and Arya reunion! Yay!

Jon: How’d you sneak up on me?

Arya: How’d you survive a knife through the heart?

Jon: I didn’t.

So Jon and Arya show each other their swords and Jon asks her if she has ever used hers and we the audience watching are like--

And then they talk about Daenerys. Jon is a wee bit pissed that Sansa is unappreciative of him risking his and his Merry Men’s asses to save the whole frigging kingdom, understandably so, and, fucking weak, Arya defends “her family”. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE HELLO DON’T YOU SEE THE BIGGER PICTURE?! NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR PETTY “I DON’T LIKE MY BROTHER’S GF, SHE’S NOT FROM HERE, SHE CAN’T UNDERSTAND US!” NONSENSE! THE DEAD ARE COMING, DAMNIT!

In K.L., Creepy Qyburn rushes to tell Crazy Cersei that the wights have broken through the Wall. Her response?

If there is one thing on this mixed up continent we can count on it’s that Cersei will do the most fucked up shit to keep that crown on her blonde head. Including letting ice zombies lose on at least one of her kingdoms.

Just off the coast of the capital, Yara is still being held prisoner of her Uncle Euron, AKA Guyliner Greyjoy. What is it with pirates and guyliner and leather pants? Euron, Captain Hook, Jack Sparrow...While poor Yara, the rightful Queen of the Iron Islands, is tied up, Euron introduces Crazy Cersei to the captain of the Golden Company, who promises all these men and horses and weapons and things. ‘Cept no elephants, much to Cersei’s dismay. They’re not good for long sea voyages. 

Euron wants to talk “in private”. 

Which in Westerosi-speak is:

Cersei tries to put him off; she told him after the war. “Wars can last years,” Euron counters. He’s given her weapons, the Iron Fleet, the Golden Company (whose captain is named Harry Strickland, that is so out of leftfield in a world of Eddards and Tywins), what else does he need to prove that he’s totally Team Cersei?

Well, Cersei doesn’t wanna lose the only ally she has left in this war she still sees herself fighting so...

Euron:

Elsewhere in the capital, Bronn is trying to get his offtime on with three ladies who cannot stop talking about how frigging cool and scary the dragons they saw attacking K.L. were and Bronn is obviously only an afterthought. A watercooler, if you will. When Creepy Qyburn interrupts and lets Bronn know that Cersei is looking for him.

The gist is Qyburn has been sent to hire Bronn on Cersei’s behalf to execute Tyrion and Jaime in case they don’t survive their “Northern adventures”. And she wants him to use a crossbow to do it because she has a keen sense of poetic irony. 

Bronn:

Bronn might be my favorite.

In Cersei’s chambers, Euron is getting dressed (because he just got Queened, you see; this show can never be accused of being subtle) and immediately asks her how he “compares to the fat king”. Cersei tells Euron that Robert had a different ladyfriend every night but still had no idea how to please a woman. Sad for Robert.

 Then he asks about “the Kingslayer” and Cersei wonders if he wants to lose his head. But he’s arrogant and she likes that (and he apparently doesn’t mind that she had a torrid affair with her twin brother; they’re either perfectly matched or perfectly psychotic). Just before Euron leaves, he says:

 Prooooooooobably not aware that Cersei’s belly just may be currently occupied at the moment.

Cersei smiles holding aloft her ever present goblet of wine as Euron leaves. IDK if she is simply humoring an ally or if she actually finds Euron grossly charming. I mean, he’s hot and all but he’s also a pig but hey I’m sane so what do I know.

On Euron’s ship, Theon and his buddies launch an attack against the assholes who have captured Yara. Theon unties her and she headbutts him for abandoning her like a sister would (”You left me, your Queen, to our bastard of an uncle! You dipshit!”), then extends a hand to help him off the floor and they say no more about it. 

Yara suggests they go back to the Iron Islands; they’ll all need a place to go if Dany and Co. fail in the North, a place where the dead can’t follow. But Theon obviously wants to go to Winterfell and fight for the Starks, to make up for betraying them and being an absolute fucklord, so Yara commands it. “What is dead may never die, but kill the bastards anyway.”

In the North, Dany is worried about Drogon’s and Rhaegal’s lack of appetites. They “only” ate eighteen goats and eleven sheep. IDK, that sounds like a lot to me but again, what do I know? I’ve never owned a dragon. I should ask the Munsters. 

Dany and Jon go visit the dragons, who are restless cus they don’t be likin’ the North. And why would they? They’ve been all over and in much warmer climes and now they’re stuck in some frozen over craphole where no one washes their hair and wears the same clothes for two weeks straight. 

Dany wants to fly them to give them some exercise and urges Jon to get on top of Rhaegal while she flies her trusty Drogon. Jon is, obvs, hesitant. He’s never ridden a dragon, he doesn’t know how. Well, no one does until they’ve ridden a dragon! So, Jon climbs on top of Rhaegal, braces himself, and off they go.

And it’s hilarious.

And Dany’s totally into it. Jon’s holding onto Rhaegal, screaming like a girl and Dany’s like “Oh YEAUH I’m all about this”. When they touch down at a really pretty spot in front of a waterfall to get bizzay, she’s looking like she’s falling deeper in love with him and the dragons are looking like, well, like they are watching their mom get bizzay. 

Kinky. You don’t see Dragon Mom-Dragon Cuckold-Ex King of the North videos on PornHub. That’s a niche they should tap into.

This scene was totally unnecessary for the plot and probably cost a lot of money to render and was hysterical. Who knew dragons had kinks? I mean, I guess they are entering their hormone-fueled adolescence and missing internet and Playboy outlets so...this is the next best thing?

Sorry about that, boys. 

Arya and the Hound run into each other for the first time since season three, where she left him to die but first robbed him. “You’re a cold little bitch, aren’t you? Guess that’s why you’re still alive.” 

She also runs into Gendry and asks him to make her a weapon, to which he hesitantly complies.

Inside Winterfell, Sansa receives a letter from House Glover letting them know that they wish the North luck but House Glover will remain in the woods. It’s a classic piss off. Even though House Glover promised to always stand by House Stark. No, Sansa denies. He’d stand behind the King in the North. They’re gearing up for another argument. Jon counters that they needed allies. He brought home armies and dragons! 

UGH!

Sansa, I love you, but Lort Almighty!

Yeah ok, the Mad King was, well, mad, but A) Dany is not her father and B) ICE ZOMBIES WITH AN ICE DRAGON ARE COMING! SOON! THEY ARE ON THEIR WAY RIGHT NOW! ALL YOU PEOPLE ARE BEING HARD-HEADED IDIOTS!

Dany and Jorah go to visit Sam to thank him for curing Jorah of his Greyscale. Dany asks Sam if there is anything she can do for him to repay him. Sam asks for a pardon for taking some books from the Citadel and a sword from House Tarly; it’s been in his family for generations. And that is when things get--

Daenerys explains that she offered to let Randyll Tarly keep his lands and titles if he bent the knee, but he refused, and we all know what happened to him. 

At the info that his daddy is toast, Sam seems to take in stride because Randyll was a dick but when Dany adds that Dickon stood by his father and was also roasted Sam excuses himself.

How good was John Bradley in this scene? He conveyed so much emotion in a single facial expression, just a shift of the eyes, a downturn of the lips. You could totally tell he was barely holding it together.

Sam goes outside and spots BranBot, who urges him to tell Jon the truth with his emotionless visage. After all, he’s not his brother.

He finds Jon in the crypt and they hug it out until Jon notices the look on Sam’s face. He thinks something’s wrong with Gilly or Little Sam until Sam confesses that Dany had Randyll and Dickon executed. Sam asks him if he would have done this if he’d been in her place. Jon argues that he’d executed men who had disobeyed him in the past, but he’d also pardoned men who refused to kneel. Jon parries he wasn’t a king like Dany is a queen. 

Sam claims he is. And he doesn’t mean King of the North.

He and Bran worked it out. Sam had a High Septon’s diary. Bran had...BranVision. Jon’s father was, of course, Rhaegar Targaryen and his mother was Lyanna Stark. 

He’s Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his Name, Protector of the Realm, yada, yada, yada.

Jon’s like “You better not be bullshitting me, man!” And Sam’s all “Would Dany bend the knee and give up her crown to save her people like you did, bro?”

Jon:

On the grounds of Winterfell, the hunting party, consisting of Tormund Giantsbane, Dolorous Edd, and five times resurrected Beric Dondarrion (be careful, Beric, Melisandre isn’t around to resurrect you again), is, uh, hunting when half the party jumps out screaming “Stay back! He’s got blue eyes!”

Brienne needs to get on that. They’d make adorable, and huge, blue-eyed babies.

Eventually, they find poor Young Umber, the first casualty of this season, nailed to a door with his innards and body parts creating a spiral pattern around him. He awakens zombified and the party lights him on fire, causing the whole spiral of gore to become alight in flames.

Ugh.

Everyone has a fucking sigil on this show. Even he dead guys.

The episode ends with Jaime finally riding into the North, climbing down off his noble steed to fulfill his promise to fight for the living, and...

Your past sins have caught up with you, Jaime. 

[eloquentmydear]

It's 2018, I never want to see or hear the words

"man bun", "man bag" or "guyliner"

ever again !!! It's a fucking bun !!! It's a fucking bag !!! It's fucking eyeliner !!! You don't need to masculinise things just because a man has them !!!

[punkrorschach]

i am pointing a gun at anyone calling it guyliner. we did not fight and die in hot topic to go back to needlessly gendering shit like “man purse” and “man bun”. guyliner is even worse bc its a fuckin portmanteau.

we need to bring back guyliner. in a big way. government mandated eyeliner on men

[not-quite-scene]

I think it's so dumb that people feel the need to put gendered terms on things that aren't inherently gender specific. Things like man buns, guyliner, mansplaining, hepeating, and manscaping. It's not like there's anything different about it either, a man bun is just a bun, guyliner is just eyeliner, etc. and if it was truly a different thing, it should have it's own name. Instead, people just take the original word, scratch some of it out, and write "MAN" in red marker. There's no rhyme or reason to it, just "it's this thing but men are doing it so now it is man thing". Fuck off with your sexist bullshit

[fandom-smut-shots]

So boyfriend watched Descendants with me...

Boyfriend's analysis of Descendants characters.

Jay: First movie: The hipster son of a dubstep choreographer.

Second movie: "Mulan man bun!"

Mal: "...Mal? That was the best they could come up with?"

Ben: First movie: Troy Bolton meets John Travolta. "What is this, some Grease/High School Musical shit?"

Second movie: "He has a Kristoff thing going on."

Carlos: "I love that he's afraid of and dogs! ...He needs to be gay..."

Harry: "Guyliner!"

Uma: "Wow, what an original name."

Gil: "He looks nothing like Gaston..."

All I got from him for Evie was that he loves her clothes. And that she looks like Demi Lovato.

[butiwannabeyoursuperhero]

"man bun", "guyliner". holy fuck imagine needing constant reassurance of your masculinity. imagine being so fragile