#snobkilled

everything was meant to be simple;   a damn piece of cake compared to some of the mission briefs that Eggsy had been given before.   there was nothing out of the ordinary when it came to this——   and maybe Eggsy had been careless.   maybe he had been thoughtless,  too focused on the outcome and the target to not see what was right in front of him.   unable to stop it before everything spiralled out of his control and there were civilians screaming for their lives.   Eggsy didn’t know what to do.   now his hands were covered in blood    (  red,  red,  red  )    and his fingers were trembling from where he’d tried to stop death.   from trying to save a life that was slipping away from him all too quickly.   panic wrapped around his throat and unable to save them.   what sort of agent was he?   what sort of person was he,  unable to save those that he had joined the ranks of kingsman to help and protect?   there’s blood everywhere,  Merlin’s voice in his ear rather than his usual handler;   telling him that he needs to get back.   that he needs to leave.   police are on the way——  maybe something higher ranking than that,  for another attack,  and Eggsy nods dumbly because he can’t feel anything but the warmth on his fingers.   he was told not to go back to HQ,  that they would go over a debriefing the next day.   when his hands stopped shaking and he could breathe without an insistence that he needed to help dying on his lips.   he’d been informed that Arthur was aware   –——   Harry,  he thinks, and hurts even more    –——   but Eggsy had signed off without a word…   and so he went home,  sat in the back of the taxi;   blood on his face,  his clothes,  and still on his hands.   under his nails,  he realises.   covering his glasses,  and Eggsy wants to cry.   the world outside the house dark and unsuspecting as he opens the door.   he toes his shoes off and climbs the stairs.   needs to find him,  needs to find———     “Harry.”

My Tumblr Crushes:

scotborn

somcthingtoboos

suitsandliquor

singlemaltscott

charleshesketh

upstatespirits

thankfxckforthat

snobkilled

shotgunrodeo

A pensive silence, that’s what it was called. At least that was what Anne imagined, not an awkward silence in which they both not knew what to say. Or they knew precisely, but didn’t want to say it, or didn’t need to. After all, they could trust each other, they were friends, even after this long abscence of both.

Stirring tea in a porcelain cup, she stood not sure if she should sit. It was her own home, despite it looking more like from an IKEA catalogue, glistening white, with so little personality that it conveyed it’s own sterile charm. But then again, her legs felt almost restless, taking silent steps in front of the sofa, occasionally looking out of the window into the dusk setting down on London.

“I wish I would’ve had the possibility to help you.” Time to break the silence, her voice seemed loud,even though the words were spoken almost dismissively, as if she was telling him about a nice little series she just started yesterday. 

“But then again... I doubt it would’ve changed what happened.” Maybe it had been fate, all of it. And it didn’t help going through possibilities and hypotheticals of what could’ve been done, what 

      “ i think a lot of us are jus’  HURT  over what happened with whiskey---  &  confused,  ‘cause he really wasn’t all that bad.  he jus’ made some shitty choices--- ”  okay,  sangria.  you trying to  apologize  or is galahad sr now your  therapist?  “ sorry.  what i’m tryin’ t’say is that y’all saved our asses.  and while people are kinda upset right now,  y’all can always call if ya need anythin’.  i don’t mind helpin’ with recruits or anythin’ if ya want. ”

smooches:

chavspy

snobkilled

hydradaddy

kngsmnmerlin

somcthingtoboos

pueroimmersi

singlemaltscott

rcgaliisms

BEST  FOOT’S  PUT  FORWARD,   LIKE  PRISON        scare tactics,  stretching a phase of settling straight-laced   &   void of flaw until the example’s set as concrete as Arthur’s position consumed in the unmoving geriatric variety   —-    and it isn’t any sort of knee-jerked  desire  to be the preliminary fuck up,   strolling casually into the halted beginnings of a tuesday morning meeting some healthy thirty or forty minutes behind schedule   (  it’s  UNHEALTHY  the amount of times he’s had to stomach some variety of  ah,  galahad …  )  because fact was,    any day as potentially charged with opportunity for  light’s  out was a day not worth giving a complete  &  total damn for protocol,  old as dust,  older than the boards beneath their heels.

she’s an  EXEMPLARY  example of the should,   the ought-to  ;   Harry’s gone silent in smiling to himself,   and pours her tea for her in wordless apology once holograms flicker away   &   files tuck back into their manila folders.  

    An unknown sense of urgency woke Eggsy in the early morning, eyes squinting against the first rays of sunlight. A glance at the alarm clock blinking in green at his bedside made him groan; he was used to getting up at this time every day, but he still had a few minutes before he would really need to rouse.