only moustaches

  • what she says: i'm fine
  • what she means: if hannah montana was an internationally recognized pop superstar, why was miley's only form of disguise a blonde wig? how would the people at her school not recognize her face? if you saw a girl at your school with the face of taylor swift walking around but with black hair, you wouldn't see it and assume it was just a student with her taylor swift's exact facial features, would you??if lorde suddenly dyed her hair blonde she wouldn't become unrecognizable to everyone, right?? and wasn't billy ray famous before she was even born?? ignoring the fact that his only disguise was a moustache, did word not get out in the media that he had a kid??? wouldn't tmz still exist in this world? how did he convince everyone that his daughter was named hannah and not miley??? wouldn't they assume that "hannah montana" was a stage name anyway considering billy ray's last name was stewart?? wasn't billy ray her manager??? didn't he perform with his daughter multiple times??? how was he not recognized???? he was famous enough to have dolly parton be the godmother of his daughter, right????? why is jason earles so creepy????????

it bugged me that the stubble that came with parenthood came with only moustache’d options so here’s a version with just the jaw stubble. made this for myself but decided to upload in case anyone else has been wanting this   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

teen-elder, includes only ea colors

probably requires parenthood im not sure lol 

download: x

anonymous asked:

Girl, I saw this close up picture of Yuzu once with like stubble or something (not sure but sure look a bit like stubble), and now I can't stop imagining him with facial hair and his LGC hair style. Daym.

Originally posted by pilesofsmile






“You tease me
Oh, please me
I want you to be my love toy
Come near me
Don’t fear me
I just can’t get enough of you, boy”

Gunther - Ding Dong Song

I swear…I dare someone to make a fan mv of Yuzu with this song. I would die.

Why a moustache you ask?

Well, he only has a moustache stubble.

Yuzu could tango toe-to-toe with Javi…

Originally posted by boysinblades

Professor Evans (4/?)

Summary: Y/N and Chris’s realtionship is becoming much more serious. And Chris “accidentally" flirts with Y/N. 

Pairings: Professor!Evans x Student!Reader 

Warnings: Not a single one, except for fluff that could give you a heart attack :)

Word Count: 1,440

A/N: You guys are the absolute best! Every one of you guys keeps me going and keeping me motivated to write more, thank you!!! 

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Originally posted by mackievanstan

Monday turned out great, Y/N apparently is good at assisting and Chris is good at making her feel comfortable. They both agreed that Mondays and Wednesdays were the days that she could come in and help him and if she had any spare time she would also be able to work then. Everything about those three hours was amazing, Chris would ask her about her future and what was she planning on after college and sometimes they would transition the conversation to their personal lives. Families, friends, relationships; Chris was now certain that she was available but he still couldn’t figure out if she liked him back.

Keep reading

Ok, so I really love what they did with Nikola Tesla in Fate/Grand Order. From what little I know of him he was an exceedingly brilliant man whose achievements were either stolen from him or downplayed by his rivals.

In FGO they present him as a Star Attribute Heroic Spirit. People in this group typically are extraordinary humans who have achievements large enough to be considered “the hope of humanity”. Other heroes in this group are Romulus (who founded Rome) and Francis Drake (who was the first person to circumnavigate the world). Out of all of the Star Attribute heroes we’ve seen so far, only Francis and Tesla have the Pioneer of the Stars skill.

Pioneer of the Stars
A unique skill bestowed to a hero who became a turning point in human history. Having brought down to the world a power that was endowed only by beings from the Age of Gods and raised civilisation up, [Tesla] possesses EX Rank on this.

The reason for all of this is that he “revealed Zeus’ thunder to the world”. He took something that belonged to the gods, and made it commonplace for humans. His entire fighting style in FGO is based around this. Not to mention that he is a 5 Star Servant, meaning that at least gameplay wise, he is on par with heroes like King Arthur and Gilgamesh.

The more I think about it, he is kind of an Anti Gil

They are both Chaotic Good 5 Star Archer Class Servants.

They both have Noble Phantasms that deal bonus damage to Servants of certain Attributes. Gil’s deals bonus damage to Servants that aren’t of the Star Attribute and Tesla deals bonus damage to enemies that are of the Earth or Sky Attributes. In other words, Tesla is resistant towards Gil’s NP, and deals bonus damage towards enemies who are from folklore or mythology. 

Gil is the oldest Heroic Spirit known to man, Tesla is the youngest Heroic Spirit we’ve encountered so far.

Gil wishes to cull mankind in order to restore the world to the Age of the Gods. Tesla wishes to complete his World Wireless System, granting the whole world free electricity, which no doubt would advance mankind even further from the Age of the Gods.

EDIT: Fixed a factual error regarding Francis Drake

Dear Hairy Girls,

when I was eight I noticed my eyebrows were thick

like black caterpillars over tired, baggy eyes

I was already worried I wasn’t pretty enough to be

a popstar like I wanted

I took a pair of scissors and knelt behind the teacher’s desk

in front of a plastic mirror

and tried to cut them smaller

I walked around with a patch missing from my left brow for weeks

I couldn’t explain why I did it

just one of those weird things kids do.

Dear Hairy Girls,

when I was eleven I sat in a treehouse at a barbecue

with my older sister’s friends

I felt mature, cool even

then one of them looked at my legs and said

“those sure are some furry legwarmers”

I looked down, my legs were bare

save for the thick black hair 

moments later she asked if I was wearing eyeliner

“no,” I said, “I just have thick black eyelashes”

she said I was lucky.

Dear Hairy Girls,

I begged my mother to let me shave my legs

she gave me Nair, afraid I would cut myself

it gave me chemical burns that caused sores on my skin

but I never went a shower without using it

grateful to be free of what I felt was a plague.

Dear Hairy Girls,

I was sitting in gym class in grade seven

talking to a boy

that warm feeling in my chest, the safety of knowing

you’re too young for anything to mean something

but you can still pretend

and then the boy to my other side

pulled the back of my shirt down and shouted

“whoa, you have a hairy back!”

he turned me around to show everyone

including the boy I liked

I laughed it off but to this day

I can’t wear a backless shirt or dress.

Dear Hairy Girls,

the same year my mother plucked my eyebrows for the first time

I cried because it hurt, but when it was over

it was like another stone had been lifted

by fourteen years old I could shape my eyebrows

with the expertise and speed of a beautician 

and a year later it stopped hurting.

Dear Hairy Girls,

I was a girl who always wanted a nickname

I thought it would make me cooler, more popular

nothing ever caught on

until someone in the first month of high school

looked at me and said “moustache”

only a few people called me this to my face and when they did

it was gleefully, with broad smiles

but what bothers me more are the people who graduated

five years later

who had to ask my friends

what “Moustache’s” real name was.

Dear Hairy Girls,

I was told I was the kind of girl that boys would never like

(which I’m fine with now, because I’m the kind of girl

who prefers girls to boys anyway

with very rare exceptions and high standards to meet).

Dear Hairy Girls,

I was afraid to wear a swimsuit when I was fifteen

because people would see

my hairy arms, my hairy back, the patches I missed on my legs

and my hairy stomach.

Dear Hairy Girls,

I am the only girl I know personally who has

a fully defined happy trail.

Dear Hairy Girls,

I am fucking beautiful.

Dear Hairy Girls,

I know I can’t ask you to love

the hair on your arms

on your back

on your neck

on your face

on your legs

on your stomach

because I know how something as stupid as hair

can be used as a weapon against you

but if long, thick hair is a symptom of femininity 

then we have it in spades

and should never be afraid to show our gorgeous selves.

Dear Hairy Girls,

never settle for anyone who loves you

and thinks you’re beautiful

“despite” the hair

we deserve better, our hair is beautiful

and I hope you know 

that I’m rooting for you.

grimes: thru sheer force of will and gut wrenching patience, i have grown out my hair without dying it for almost 6 months so this is p much all my natural hair color for the first time in almost 17 years. (b4 u judge my parents for letting an 11 year old dye its hair let it be known it was in the service of playing anne of green gables in the school play). natural moustache 2. i plucked only one side to see if it would grow back darker (which it did) so now i have a prominent moustache on only one side of my face which sucks but i guess its my fate. also im getting a tattoo in 2 days and forgot to think about it until now. any suggestions?

Birthday (Simon x Reader)

@rickdixonandthefandomlifeposts. Here is the second one, containing our one and only moustached hero. Enjoy. <3
Wait, one warning before enjoying: this one is silly as fuck. But I had a lot of fun writing it, as his character is pretty comical to begin with. 

Originally posted by neganfreakydeaky

Ever since yesterday on your run, when you had revealed to Simon that it would be your birthday today, he had been looking at you funny. These glances today were driving you crazy, and you just wish you’d know what they mean.

At some point, you’re done, so you grab him by the arm and drag him down the halls of the Sanctuary to talk privately. It’s not a big deal, everyone here knows you are good friends ever since he found you all alone, being horded by walkers.

He keeps stammering protests until you let go of his arm. It’s not like he couldn’t have just walked away if he wanted to, this guy is strong as fuck.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off by saying sharply, “What the fuck is going on today?” He wiggles his eyebrows before slowly starting to walk away again. But before he leaves, he throws you the biggest grin, showing all his teeth. “Well, wouldn’t you like to know, my birthday girl?” He quickly ‘boop’s you on the nose before running away.

Sometimes you want to rip that stupid moustache off his face.

The rest of the day he avoids you, so you decide to just turn in early with a nice book. And maybe fall asleep at like 9 PM with your head on said book.

A sharp knock on the door takes you out of your peaceful sleep. Peaceful as can be with your head in a book. At least you didn’t get papercuts.

You grumble a half-hearted “go away” at the door. You hear someone sing-song in a high-pitched voice, “Come ouuuut,” and you snort loudly, just knowing it is Simon putting on a weird-ass voice. Why are you friends again with this tit? No one knows.

Why do you have feelings for this tit without him knowing? No one knows. Literally.

Yeah, yeah. You’ll address it when he does. So never.

You throw the blanket over your shoulders and rub your eyes before opening the door. There are arrows drawn in white chalk, literally from your door to his.

It’s just that you’re too tired to facepalm. Otherwise you would have facepalmed.

You throw open his door, fully intending to chew him out for this even-for-him weird shit, but you close your mouth as you look around his room. He has set up a little coffee table, full of gin, wine and other booze. And not to forget, bags and bags of your favorite chips. Pillows litter the floor around the coffee table. It’s like a big, fluffy, alcoholic cloud.

“I thought your birthday would be a good excuse for getting smashed,” he grins, throwing his arms out in a welcoming gesture.

“Are you kidding me? This is just what I needed today!” You pause a moment to look at the amount of bottles and bags of chips on the table. “How did you get all this stuff?” You ask with awe.

“Well, we just went to the Hilltop, remember? I got a fuckload of gin there. I wanted to give it to Negan, but when I heard it was your birthday, this seemed like a much better destination.”

You plop down onto the pillows, which are just as soft as they look.

“Well then, don’t just stare at me. Poor me one, you hairy idiot!” You say to evade silence. And insulting him in the process is always a bonus.

He side-eyes you. “I’m not the one who fell asleep on her book again.” He trails the lines that the pages must have made on your face with his finger. You suppress a shiver.

“Hey, you have to be nice to me, it’s my birthday!”

After two hours of this, the alcohol buzzes pleasantly in your veins and you both are giggling, your head resting on his shoulder.

Suddenly, he frowns, mumbling something, the alcohol probably tripping his tongue.

“Wha’?” You slur.

“Why don’ you like me?” He manages, looking at you with honesty and confusion.

“’Cause love you.”

Shit. It’s out before your stupid brain could stop your stupid fucking alcoholic mouth.

But before you can beat yourself up about it too much, his mouth is on your (alcoholic) one. It starts out soft and reserved, but soon you taste him, and God this is better than you’d ever dreamed. For all the teasing about the moustache, its soft scraping against your skin makes it tingle beyond belief.

The kiss seems to sober you both up a bit. You break away for a moment, looking at him.

Your eyes dart between his. “Not just for one night?”

He smiles softly, looking down at his knees and shaking his head a few times.

When he looks up at you again, his eyes bore into yours so earnestly that it almost compels you into sobriety.

“For as long as we have. If you want,” he clears his throat, before breathing, “I do.”

You are so hypnotized by him in this moment, that you don’t try words. You nod meaningfully at him.

At which point you fling yourselves at each other again, lips on each other and your hand in his hair.

Your other hand roams under his shirt. Your eyes widen as you feel his abs made of stone. Who is this guy, Hercules?

No. He is your Simon, your best and (you can finally admit it) smoking hot birthday present, and he is yours tonight as well as many, many nights to come.