man that mirror was a douchebag

anonymous asked:

With the upcoming 13x06, not to mention its cousins 6x18 and 8x11, I'm reminded how much Dean loves to dress up. Are there any other instances where he's excited to dress up as something - even just something mundane?

I think his excitement to dress up comes from the excitement of that thing more than just an overall love of dressing up. The other times he’s been super excited to put on a costume it’s because he loves the thing he’s dressing up as like in 7.12, he’s excited about the Untouchables and Elliot Ness so he’s super excited to get to play a role with him: 

In 6.18, again he loves cowboys so he’s excited to get to dress up and be a cowboy for awhile: 

Look how smuggy and smirky he is what a cutie. And in 8.11, it’s because he’s excited about LARPing. Throughout the entire episode, he’s been excited about the idea of LARPing and when Charlie tells him he has to dress up to blend in and be able to walk around with her: 

That’s the face of an excited man, and we get another let me check myself out in the mirror scene: 

He does dress up at other times but there’s not really any indication that he’s terribly enthusiastic about it like in 9.13 when he has to the lunch lady: 

And in Night Shifter, he dresses up as a tech guy, and then gets out of the costume as soon as possible: 

You could make a case for him enjoying the dress up in 12.07

because of the way he’s playing it up with the douchebag sunglasses and because we know Dean had a childhood fantasy of being a rock star (9.07)

which the episode reminded us, when Sam asks skeptically if Vince is acting out some rock god fantasy: 

but sadly there’s no accompanying montage or overt scene about his excitement like there are for other ones. Another one is when he plays a gym teacher in 4.13 because clearly he’s having a lot of fun doing that

but again, I’d say it’s more about playing a role and having a good time than about the actually dressing up. I don’t think he has a particular excitement to wear the shorts and polo shirt so much as to inhabit a role and just have fun for a minute rather than the normal drudgery of their work. I think Dean does enjoy dressing up, but more than that I think what he really likes is getting to enjoy some of his interests without fear of judgement (because it’s for the case) and/or because he gets to enjoy playing a part that has nothing to do with monsters or being responsible for someone or the bigger picture. 

~Warning // Pt. 1~ (Hamilsquad X Reader)

A/N: Hello hello hello! My power only came back on about three hours ago and the first thing I did was write this because I’m a dweeb lol. IDK how many parts this is going to be, we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it. Anyway, I’m going to go sleep for a million and a half years. Enjoy!!!!  

T/W: Attempted rape, roofying, alcohol, swearing, blackmail

Pt 1  Pt 2  Pt 3  Pt 4  Pt 5  Pt 6

Thomas Jefferson was a name you had heard too many times to count.

A pompous, indignant, rich prick in a magenta suit – or so you had been told. His reputation was widely-known, though, it wasn’t like you were the only one who knew who he was. No, the Jefferson family was a popular and feared household that had worked in the law business for over nine decades.

Anyone who was anyone knew the name, and either brightened or cowered at the sound of it.

Alexander and John, however, were by no means afraid of him, nor did they like him. In fact, it was well known around the office that Alexander would rather chug a whole cup of bleach than speak to Thomas for even thirty seconds. He would come home from a long day of work looking absolutely disheveled and yet somehow still have the energy to rant and rave and fume about how bad this man was at his job.

John had a much calmer approach, but still said that he would, given the chance, gladly hurl Thomas into the sun. Laf worked on a completely different branch than John and Alex but had still had enough encounters with Jefferson to learn the American phrase ‘shit-faced motherfucker’ just to call him that behind his back. Hercules didn’t even work with the rest of the boys, but he still managed to be the one Jefferson came to for all his clothes. He swore that the man only wanted magenta suits with black trim because he knew how hard it would be to get the fabric like that.

You were the only one to hate the man without knowing his face.

“He’s nothing but a douchebag with enough money to buy Canada.” Alex huffed, pulling his hair into a floppy bun in front of the mirror.

You flattened down your dress, one of the ones Herc had made that made your boys practically salivate to see you in, and fixed your hair slightly. Alex broke his intense gaze with his hair in the mirror to look back at you, his jaw dropping as his eyes skimmed up and down your figure.

“Damn, (Y/N), you look…” He swallowed thickly, voice dropping to a growl. “Edible.”

You giggled slightly. “No touching.” He deflated slightly, pouting. “I have to look good for your friends.”

“I’d hate to think you’re implying my male colleagues, (Y/N).” He smirked, coming to stand behind you and watch your reflection over your shoulder.

“Why, Mr. Hamilton,” You put on your best southern accent, placing a hand over your heart and dropping your jaw as you looked back at him. “Are you saying I would dress this way for anyone but yourself and our lovely boyfriends?”

He smiled dopily, resting his chin on your shoulder and snaking his arms around your waist. 

“God, I hope not.” He pressed a quick kiss to your mouth and ran off before you could yell at him for smudging your lipstick.

As you pelted from the room behind him, Laf stepped out from the guest room across the hall, half dressed with his bow-tie dangling, wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up, spinning you around. You giggled as you struggled, trying to get to Alex, but Laf only held you closer to his body.

“Laf put me down! I have to make Alex pay for messing up my makeup!”

A squeak sounded from the kitchen, and Alex’s voice was heard, “Hide me, John!”

Laf only chuckled, setting you down to turn you to face him, smiling at you as your eyes darted to the side, as though you were trying to see where Alex went. Laf tutted and took your chin gently, moving your head to make you look at him. You stopped trying to move away as his sparkling eyes met yours; your heart melting a little as he slowly retracted his hand.

His eyes moved to your lips, and he gave a soft smile. 

“You are still as beautiful as the day we met.” He mumbled, running his thumb over your cheek. A blush spread out over your cheeks and you shuffled slightly, bathing in his compliment.

“Well, so are you, Frenchy…”

He chuckled at that, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, leaning in close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your ear.

“Go get him, sweetheart.”

You broke into a grin and took off towards the living room as Laf chuckled, ducking back into the bedroom to finish getting dressed. You stopped as you entered, almost running straight into John, who stood in the middle, smirking and doing up the buttons on his jacket, avoiding your gaze.

“Hey, Jacky…” You asked breathlessly, looking around for any sign of Alexander. “Have you seen Alex?”

“Alex?” He asked, confused. “I don’t know any Alex’s.” He shrugged, his gaze not breaking from the TV in front of him, playing some game that he was pretending to be interested in.

You gave a breathless sigh. “John, where is he?”

“Alex… I’ve heard that name before. Alex-is? Alex-andria? Alex-andro? Nope, nothing rings a bell…” He shrugged, tucking his tie into his vest and turning to you. He did a double take as his eyes trailed down your figure, but he was quick to snap his gaze back to your face.

“You sure you don’t want to tell me where Alex is, Johnny?” He bit his lip as you got closer to him, placing your hands on his chest and sliding them up to his shoulders. You had to get on your tip-toes to reach his ear, but as soon as your teeth nipped at his earlobe, his knees were weak, and you could reach his head with ease. “Or am I going to have to make you?”

You could hear him swallow thickly as he stood back up, looking down at you as your lips trailed down his neck, hitting the sweet spot and making him gasp.

“B- Behind the curtains.” He whimpered, screwing his eyes shut as your teeth grazed his skin. You looked behind him, and sure enough, there was a lump behind the curtain.

You smirked against his collarbone, nose brushing the nape of his neck as you slowly pulled away from him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek like nothing had happened. 

“That’s it?” He asked, looking like a lost puppy as he held onto your hand so you wouldn’t leave.

You smiled, winking at him as you let go. 

“You’ll get the rest later.” A pink blush crept out over his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck, walking off towards Laf’s room.

Keep reading

What Punk Rockers Might Have Been Like On Facebook (this is kind of a joke sorry):

Joe Strummer would have probably posted political photos, news pages, and videos- and maybe even a few rants on politics- that could’ve gotten likes from his band members who were actually interested as opposed to his friends who weren’t. Every once in a while, there might be some lyrics he’s been working on.

Mick Jones would’ve been the drama queen and the selfie queen. He would have a whole album for pictures entitled “Me” full of 74 selfies. There would also be rants about his band members picking on him for being late to practice with his frappacinos talking about how they didn’t care that he was “sensitive” and also a few “why isn’t anyone liking my selfies” statuses. His facebook page would practically be his diary and his bandmates would hate it. 

Paul Simonon would have 1 profile picture that was a little blurry and didn’t even look like him. He wouldn’t have any pictures of himself other than that one and almost no information about himself except for maybe that he is male and single. There would be hardly any status updates and the ones he posted would be very mundane and a little confusing. He would probably stalk his bandmates’ facebooks though.

Topper Headon would probably share Joe’s political photos, like all of Mick’s statuses just to tease him- never the selfies though- and all of Paul’s statuses just because he could. He would probably make a post right before he went to work out and afterwards talk about how much he worked out and all the karate he does. 

I put Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen together because they would be the facebook couple- and you know which one I’m talking about. There would be endless amounts of selfies and kissing pictures and statuses about how much they love each other. They would probably tag each other in every status they post and annoy almost every one of their facebook friends. Aside from posting about each other, Sid would probably post a few- decent and not douchebag title worthy- selfies for a profile picture and pictures of every meal he partakes. Nancy would post many half-naked selfies to assure everyone that she is attractive.

Steve Jones would post a lot of shirtless mirror selfies to in fact show that he is a ladies man. His profile pictures would include those selfies along with pictures of him with as many girls as he could get a picture with because that is how Steve rolls.

John Lydon would stalk everyone- especially Ari Up to make sure she wasn’t getting herself into trouble- and would absolutely not be ashamed of it. Any pictures of himself would probably not be selfies and he might occasionally share some of the political things posted by Joe Strummer. John’s statuses would be full of witty comments about his friends and family that could at times be insulting, but always funny.

The king of friend selfies would be Paul Cook. Almost every single picture of him would probably be with Steve Jones who might untag himself in said pictures because they weren’t hot enough for him. Paul’s statuses would usually be checking in somewhere and he’d probably tag all his bandmates in it.

Glen Matlock would have a fair share of selfies- not on a douchebag level, though- that his mother would comment and tell him that they didn’t look like him, which would result in numerous comments from his bandmates teasing him. He would also probably post lots of artsy looking pictures of his bass that were too impressive not to like. On average, his statuses would get likes from two people: Malcolm McLaren and his mother.

Ari Up’s statuses would all be in German and all be rants on the fact that she is single or currently going through a breakup. There wouldn’t be any likes or comments because nobody on there who spoke German would want to say anything. There would be some selfies with Nina Hagen which would probably end up as her profile pictures.

There would be endless breakup statuses about Mick Jones from Viv Albertine about how trapped he made her feel and how she’s glad she’s out of that relationship but she still misses him. There wouldn’t be any comments or likes because everyone would probably scroll past. She wouldn’t be ignored on facebook though: her tasteful and occasional selfies would get many likes from many people.

Patti Smith’s facebook would scream arty. Every single status would be a poem brilliantly written and beautiful that would get quite a few likes from her friends who enjoy her music. There would also be quite a few artistic selfies- maybe posted from instagram. She would be facebook popular for her mysterious artistic taste.

Joey Ramone would post a lot of pictures of his cats and all his selfies would be Joey ft. his cats. There would also be statuses of his cats that no one would understand.

Malcolm McLaren would be the ultimate facebook stalker just so he could know all the hot gossip about the bands he manages. He would have a small collection of selfies and would also be the one you’d get numerous FarmVille notifications from.


Andrew Lincoln in These Foolish Things

…I grew a moustache for a film These Foolish Things. I wanted to see if I could get away with it. I’m not sure I succeeded. It made complete sense when I was in a 1940s tuxedo with slicked back hair, but with a hoody I looked like a serial killer.