these are spirit fingers

anonymous asked:

Hi Lis! So I know you really love Mick Jagger and I wanted to ask how you think Harry did impersonating him. I don't know much about Mick's mannerisms so I thought you'd have the best answer x Thanks!

OH I COULD TALK ABOUT THIS ALL DAY

Something that I was really surprised about what that it seemed like a lot people thought Harry was exaggerating A LOT when he did his impersonation. He did embellish, but…Mick Jagger genuinely talks/performs just like that. I mean, you think Harry was eccentric? Watch Mick perform Sympathy for the Devil then come back to me. 

THE SHOULDER SHIMMY WHEN HE TALKS

SMILEY TROUTY MOUTH TWINS

HARRY IMITATING MICK’S T-REX WALK

A BEAUTIFUL TWITCHY T-REX

Mick makes Harry’s finger point

look incredible tame

Dear, God, they became kindred spirits 

BUT WHAT REALLY SOLD ME WAS WHEN HARRY STAYED IN CHARACTER WHEN HE WASN’T EVENT THE FOCUS

HIS EXPRESSIONS

WERE PERFECT

Overall, a 10/10 performance 

what she says: im fine

what she means: in spirited away (2001), chihiro is told to go to the top floor to meet yubaba to get a job, but the radish spirit gets on the elevator with her, indicating with one pointed finger that he wants to go up too. when chihiro gets to the top floor, the radish spirit is still there!!!!! where is he going!!!! she got off at the top floor!!! does the elevtor go to the roof?? whats he gonna do up there??? go have a smoke break??? wheres my spinoff movie about the adventures of the radish spirit i gotta know what this guys story is. this has haunted me for over ten years

“Remember, the light is always inside you. And every day, by remembering it, you feed it, and it will grow. When life is joyous, the light will be there. When there is hardship, the light will also be there.” — Annie Kagan, author, The Afterlife of Billy Fingers

Anonymous said: May I request a Jeff imagine where he’s been asking you out for a while now and you always turn him down? So one day you hear him talking to Clay and Tony about how it’s actually starting to hurt him a bit and he thinks something’s wrong with him because of constant rejection by the one girl he likes. The other jocks keep teasing him about Y/N’s rejection which upsets him, but you shock all of them by going up and kissing him which leads to a hot makeout session and ask him on a date.

Originally posted by cutie---kisses

JEFF X READER

You’re sitting in the bleachers, letting Sheri show you the newest cheer routine that she wanted to teach her girls. While you aren’t the cheer type, you don’t mind letting your best friend bounce any and all ideas off of you.

“Woo!” You obnoxiously shout as Sheri ends the routine in a split. “Now show me some spirit fingers and the routine will be perfect!”

Sheri laughs, shaking her head in amusement as she slowly stands to her feet. You feel the bleachers shaking because someone’s  either running on them or just acting a fool, and you turn your head just in time to see Jeff slide in next to you and wrap an arm around your shoulders.

“Smooth, Atkins. Very smooth,” you laugh.

Keep reading

Nicknames (Philip Hamilton x Reader)

Words: 5400+

Warnings: Cursing, death, blood, 

A/N: this was a request and i can’t find it! but yes this got out of hand and i hope you enjoy!


It started with the knocks.

You just moved into your home. It wasn’t the biggest, only two bedrooms and one bathroom. Wanting to explore the world fueled your soul, and you felt like this was the beginning. This was the beginning of a long journey that you were willing to go on. Your parents didn’t want you to own a house so early, but you insisted, ignoring their frightening words like mortgage and high property taxes. You would figure that out along the way.

Because you were your own boss. You created a company from the bottom up, using all your savings and extra cash to make it successful. And now, at eighteen years old, you owned a multi-million-dollar business. And hell, if you wanted to buy a small home, it was feasible.

You were carrying your boxes into your home when you first heard the sounds. It was an even rhythm, three taps in a row. At first, you thought it was just because you bought a fixer-upper, but then it continued to get louder and louder.

“What is that sound?” You questioned, unpacking your clothes in your room. You were alone today, your family on vacation for the next few months. You placed your clothing on the hanger, and chuckled to yourself, “How about this: One knock for no, and two knocks for yes. Okay?”

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Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part V)

Part V – “But we’re still sleeping like we’re lovers”

Twenty-six

I stood there, transfixed by the overwhelming feeling of her in my arms, unbelievingly real against the paleness of my tired memories. I didn’t know what had happened to her – clearly something had happened – but was only glad I had found her, right in the moment when my arms seemed to be so needed to hold her.

“Will ye tell me?” I murmured against her hair – fragrant like a freshly squeezed lemon, like a garden after pouring rain -, my hands rubbing her back in soothing circles. “What happened?”

“I will.” She tilted her chin, allowing our eyes to meet – hers were dry but glassy, as if her body was wrecked with fever. “I want to tell you.”

“Good.” I attempted a calming smile, but felt the muscles of my face stiff from concern. “Do ye want to sit down?”

“We can’t talk here.” Claire told me, finally stepping back, away from the comfort of my body – I felt the loss of her warmth as acutely as I would miss a limb. Phantom pain, permanent and excruciating, constructed by the mind to deal with unbearable loss. “This is Geillis place – she is a close friend – and she’ll be arriving shortly from work. I thought she had forgotten her keys when you knocked.”

“Ye can come to my house.” I offered, almost biting my tongue in eagerness. The image of Claire in my home - the tips of her fingers brushing the book spines in the shelf, her lips drinking from one of my glasses - a kiss shared through the marks we’d both leave there – made my heart swell to the point of bursting. “I mean, we can have a conversation there without being disturbed or interrupted.” I babbled, struggling to explain myself over a bout of flushing cheeks.

“Alright.” She nodded in agreement – trusting me implicitly. Naturally. “Let me just feed Adso and grab my coat.” The feline meowed in agreement and rubbed against Claire’s legs, sleek and charming, as if he had been waiting to be acknowledged.

We made our way through the pleasant streets of Edinburgh, headed towards my house, located just a few blocks away. We traded some words, but were mostly immersed in our thoughts – preparing what we would say and do, when we finally could expose ourselves in a safe haven. As we walked, we didn’t touch – not even our arms bumped into each other, in that casual way of shared movement. We were both consciously avoiding to touch, keeping a safe distance, even if acutely aware of each other.

“It isna a big house.” I apologized in a jumbled way as we entered my apartment, collecting unmatched socks and forgotten papers along the way.

“I love it!” Claire smiled in a reassuring way, admiring the big flat screen and black speakers. Her butterscotch eyes covered my pictures and books, the quilt thrown over the back of the sofa, the magazines and pamphlets I had sorted inside a little basket next to the bookcase. “I can tell you live here – it’s warm and alive. It’s a real home.”

I grinned in content – almost purring in satisfaction -, as she took off her coat. She wandered around, touching objects with a respectful hand and clicking her tongue in appreciation of my book collection. Eventually she talked again, her back turned to me.

“Where is your bedroom?” She asked in a rough voice, unhinged – and then, predicting my puzzlement, she added in a low and hesitant tone, as if talking to herself. “I haven’t been sleeping much – I didn’t want to close my eyes and let my mind roam freely. I can barely stand on my feet, to be honest. Besides,” Claire turned and glanced at me, fumbling again with her sleeves. “I think it would be easier to talk if we touched.”

“Aye.” I breathed deeply, walking towards my room. “Whatever ye need.”

I watched as she laid down on my bed, above the plaid that meant home to me – taking off her boots and socks in the process. Her movements were slow and calculated, as if she wished to cause minimal impact with her presence, so that I would carry on with my life after her departure. Claire rolled to her side, curled like an unborn child, safe and peaceful in the womb.

I came around the bed and managed to lay down – silent and precise as a thief in the night -, leaving an empty space between us, as I faced her. She seemed tired beyond her years and utterly broken.

Without a word she slid her hand to the middle of the bed, where I could reach out and touch it – I did so, softly playing with her fingers until she relaxed and our hands were entwined.

“Why are ye here?” I asked, my voice husky. Her face was a duality of shadows and bursts of light, coming from the window to dance on her features. “In Scotland?”

“I had to come.” Claire adjusted her face on the pillow, caressing the nail of my thumb with her fingers, her golden wedding ring cold like a fetch between us. “I couldn’t be in Boston right now – I needed time to think. This is the one place that has been home to me.”

“Are ye still married?” I risked, watching in anguish as she winced in pain. She sighed – but the movements of my hand in hers seemed to calm her enough to go on.

“Separated.” She licked her quivering bottom lip, avoiding my eyes. “It turns out Frank wasn’t the man I thought he was.  He wanted to own me.” Claire pursed her lips in anger. “And when he couldn’t own me, I wasn’t enough. Everyday became a war between us. A long and tiresome war.”

I gulped, taking in the shrapnel of her destruction. With a swift movement of my spare hand, I rolled up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing bruises the colour of mustard and moss, screaming against her marble white skin – marks of resentful fingers, forceful enough to break vessels and spirits. A lonely tear streamed down her cheek.

“He hurt ye!” I hissed furiously between clenched teeth, fighting the urge to maim the husband who had so recklessly broke the vow to protect her – to love her. She needed my restraint and I could offer it to her – not another display of bad temper by a man she had trusted. I hesitantly touched the bruises, wishing to erase them with kisses, to heal them with the adoration I would bestow upon her.

“I hurt him back.” Claire assured me, a look of shame crossing her face – as if I could pay witness to the degradations inflicted by both during their marriage. “He didn’t want me to leave. Frank said he still loves me.”

“Does he?” I asked with gentleness, battling the urge to ask her if she still loved him.

“I don’t know.” The tear track on her face glistened like a dry river, leaving thirst in its wake. “His love didn’t hurt like this, before.”

I wanted to ask her details on her failed marriage – her unhappiness was patent and unbearable – but restrained myself. She must have spent hours replaying the film of her derailed life, echoing words meant to harm – there was no cure to be found in saying them once more. I wished only to placate her pain – to take it all into myself, if I could. I longed to be the bringer of her smiles and not of her tears.

“I called ye.” I suddenly revealed, half embarrassed. “I waited too long – ye were gone by then. Maybe if I did…things would have been different.”

“Perhaps.” Claire agreed, haltingly. “But you were right – I shouldn’t have settled for less.”

I risked to brush her hair – silky and curly, so elementally Claire that took my breath away – and she closed her eyes in enjoyment of the intimate touch.

“What will ye do?” I asked, so afraid of the answer I could die. I wished for nothing more than to have her in my bed, lying so close to me as I memorized her, for the rest of my days. And yet I knew I had no guarantee of intimacy, of another conversation, of another touch – I savoured them all as a gift, for they were precious and not promised.

“I have to go back to Boston.” Claire explained, gripping my hand with strength. “I have a life there – a nursing job, medical school, friends and - .” She stopped, her eyes wide open.

Frank.” I swallowed hard, fighting against myself to offer her an encouraging smile. “Ye are still married to him.”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes, almost sobbing. I brought her hand closer to my mouth and kissed her knuckles.

“I won’t tell ye what to do – that is for ye to decide, mo nighean donn. But I need ye to know something, Claire.” I touched her chin with tenderness, urging her to open her eyes. “Ye alone hold all my heart – even before I knew yer name, ye meant light to me. I’ll wait for ye my whole live – and gladly so, even if it means that I’ll watch ye from afar, happy and fulfilled with another man, worthy of ye.”

“Jamie, I – “ Claire started, but I kissed her hand again and brought her against my chest, where my heart kept pounding, speaking enough to silence her.

“I’d rather ye dinna make promises ye may not wish to keep afterwards, when yer heart is less sore. When – if - ye mean them, I’ll be here.” I pleaded, staring into her eyes – she held my gaze for a while and nodded back. “Rest now, mo nighean donn. Let me watch over ye as ye sleep. Let me see ye safe.”

“I’m always safe with you.” She whispered.

I cherished her and held her hand until she fell asleep – finding new reasons to love her while she dreamt. She felt safe and protected with me – and, for that moment, it was enough.

Even when night came and we were left in complete darkness, I listened to her breathing, absorbing the symphony of the lover I craved. Once in a while I closed my eyes, making sure I could remember her perfectly – opening them again to correct a small detail, to drink another drop of her, afraid I would forget. Tormented I wouldn’t.

In the wee hours of night, I fought against sleep. I felt raw and tender, heart and body aching, calling me irresistibly to slumber.

I must have surrendered at some point. I had the vague recollection of a chaste kiss against my lips – timid, yet burning.

In the morning, she was gone.

“More and more I’m beginning to think the first half of life is like a beautiful piece of pottery that seems destined to either shatter under tragedy or crumble under the weight of worry and fear. Maybe the second half is about scouring the landscape for those lost pieces, those chips of spirit, combing them out of the grass with your fingers, figuring out a way to piece them together, make something beautiful again.”

- Gary Ferguson, Through the Woods: A Journey Through America’s Forests (Torrey House Press, 2015}

So I’ve been wanting to do something X-Men related for a while now, so enjoy this cute little bean.
Requests are open. Don’t be afraid to drop one in the ask box ✌🏻️
00000000000000000000000

Charles Xavier headcannons:

-Probably the BIGGEST gentleman you’ve ever dated.

-Like seriously, so polite. Even after dating him for almost a year now, he still rocks the princely attitude towards you.

-So comforting to be around.

-His powers always come in handy when your mind won’t stop racing. Having trouble sleeping? He’s probably on top of the issue before you get the chance to bring it up to him.

-Lowkey dirty minded. Seriously though, the things he’s said to you. Instant panty dropper.

-Never once rose his voice at you. Always thinks of a logical way to settle arguments without having to use harsh or vile words.

-Such a smooth talker. You think when you first meet him, that he’s just an English boy with a good head on his shoulders, but you are SO wrong when he takes you on your first date.

-His voice, HIS VOICE. If that accent isn’t the death of you.

-He loves reading your thoughts. It fills him with such love to hear what you’re thinking about, especially when he hears you think about him.

-Lowkey wants children with you, but chokes up every time he brings up the idea.

-It seems like he’s got everything under control, but behind closed doors with you, he just lets it all out. This poor boy has the whole world on his shoulders, and being able to vent to you makes it so much easier to handle.

-Wants marriage but doesn’t know how to propose. Mostly worried about the war that’s happening, so he doesn’t want to drop the question during such a difficult time.

-You are his world, even if he doesn’t look like the type, he would definitely throw a few punches here or there to keep you out of harms way, hell, he’d probably use his powers for something other than good if it means you’d be safe.

-Loves to spend his nights off with you. Anything you want to do he’s right there. Wanna get a manicure? Well you’re in luck because he’d probably get his toenails done.

-If he did get his fingernails painted, he would wear that nail polish with pride knowing that every time he looks at it, you’re there with him in spirit.

-Never EVER laid a finger on you, only if it’s to give you back rubs, hugs or cuddles.

-He once was drunk and accidentally slapped you, that incident happened almost 2 years ago and he’s still beating himself up over it.

- Such a worry wart.

-One time you went out grocery shopping and he literally sent one of his students to follow you.

-“Sean? Is that you?”
-“Uh, Hi Mrs.(l/n).”
-“What are you doing here?”
-“um checking the weather, lovely isn’t it?”
-“Sean were inside”

-Probably kinda mad at him because he doesn’t trust you to be on your own long enough to get food for the large house.

-Erik is probably super protective of you too. Would sacrifice himself for you, you’re like the niece he’s never had.

-All the students think of you as a mother, just like they think of Charles as a father.

-If anyone, and I mean ANYONE is to lay a finger on you, look at you the wrong way, or have perverted/ nasty thoughts of you? They best watch their asses, because they’ll have one angry mutant on their case, and it WONT be a happy ending for them.