iffy-kanoknit reblogged
angelic-breeze-deactivated20191
Anyone tells him to stop that look now!!! I can’t take it anymore
iffy-kanoknit reblogged
Specific areas of interest:
Male actors who have had to slim down/buff up for roles talking wistfully about carbs.
“Are you gonna keep in shape?” “Nah, I like cake” “But you put all that work in!” “CAKE.”
UPDATE: apparently this extends to awkward 9am girlboners over ‘lad’ lads getting excited about buying cakes/pastries.
So, settle down, here we go. Having always been A Bit Weird ™ about food, I realised this was a thing around about the time I found this gif set… (thanks @bethboltn for reuniting me with the post and @alfieallendaily for posting it)
Look at that full on daydream face.
I am separately fond of the visible glottal stop where he doesn’t even go for the second T in potatoes, heart of my heart that he is. And, further:
Ambiguous London chicken shop chicken gets the seal of approval.
I have some feelings about this.
And then, THEN I stumbled into the Kingsman fandom and the wonder that is Taron Egerton happened to me.
I’m talking about this.
And this.
Oh fuck it
Seriously people, you see any of this shit you tag me in it right away.
And having veered slightly, to return to my initial point:
Never stop.
Unfortunately I’m not able to grab you a gif of the cute construction worker opposite my office who keeps shyly asking for Bakewell tarts. But it’s a thing that happens.
Annnnd thanks @fyeahegerton and @ibbyibkod . Keep it coming!
Love it when I suddenly have a bunch of inbox notifications. “Ahh, Taron’s been gleefully stuffing his face again hasn’t he.”
Yes, yes he has. Credit to @lookinggoodeggsy for the lovely gifs!
Have a reblog because it’s come to my attention the last gif failed yesterday and it won’t let me edit
I’ve been off tumblr for like a week, I’m back and look what I’ve found. Gifs are I think courtesy of @fyeahegerton but do correct me if I’m wrong.
Honestly I thought this was going to diversify eventually but.. I’m totally happy with being wrong.
My boy. Same here
iffy-kanoknit reblogged
What about you, Harry? You were sick enough to shoot a puppy. Do you remember?
My tears still running down 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
iffy-kanoknit reblogged
HARTWIN + Staring and smiling at each other.
A master class in how to say I love this man with all my heart via gazing.
I could see relief, trust, faith, thankfulness, and...love? Yeahhh true love, I swear.
iffy-kanoknit reblogged
I’m dead
iffy-kanoknit reblogged
Reblog if you wish Kingsman has a tv series with the same cast of actors.
YESSSSS
iffy-kanoknit reblogged
No, Taron. That's not yours. That fan gave to Colin. To him, not you. And please concentrate on your fans, not HIM, please. Thank you.
iffy-kanoknit reblogged
Why are you so cuteeeeeee
Why he looks playful then shy and then...dangerous...within 4sec.
iffy-kanoknit reblogged
Inktober Day 5. Fallen
Hey Harry. S’me, Eggsy.
S’probably not the call you’d expect t’ get fro me. But I’m 90,000 fuckin’ feet in the air above the Pacific, me jet’s been hit by that Aussie thug’s rocket launcher, an’ losin’ altitude fast. Merlin’s tearing his eyebrows out, since he’s got no hair, tryin’ t save me as we speak, but we both know it ain’t gonna happen. Both engine’s are fucked, the ejector seat is jammed and I didn’t pack a parachute. I’m losin’ altitude pretty fast. I know you can ‘ear all the beepin’ and wailin’ going on here in the cockpit, but jus’ try t’ ignore it, yeah?
I gotta come out wiv it now, uddawise I’ll never get the fuckin’ chance. I’m sorry t’ tell ya like this, but I won’rt be able t tell ya when ya fish wahteva’s left o’ me outta the ocean. Oh wait, Kingsman leaves bodies where they fall, eh? Being buried at sea ain’t so bad I ‘spose. Better’n being burned. Yuck.
So here’s the thing. I need ya t’ take care of Mum n’ Dais for me. I got enough money t’ keep em tidy, don’t worry. There’s enough t’ keep payin’ the rent, n’ Mum’s pay from hairdressin’ should keep just fine. There’s anovver account for Dais’ when she gets t’ uni age, for ‘er education, so you make sure that stays untouched, ‘kay?
Tell ‘em I died alright. Tha’ I wasn’t in any pain, tha’ I didn’t suffer. I don’ give a fuck wha’ the truth is, jus’ tell ‘em that. Make up some lie that’ makes my death as painless as possible for ‘em, ok? Say I’m missin’ if ya have to. Just make sure they don’t suffer, ‘kay? An’ tell em I love em.
Tilde’ll be right cut up. I love ‘er too. But not in tha’ way bruv. We jus’ married cos she needs the throne from ‘er dad, cos he’s well sick. Motor Neuron disease, early stages. She didn’t want people t’ see him suffer. So is it okay if I tell ya how much I fuckin’ love ya, and ya’ll be the last thought in my mind when I go?. Cos I’m fallin out of the sky, hard an’ fast, just like how I fell fa ya. Bruv. M’sorry Harry. Really didn’ want ya t’ find out like this, in a fuckin’ voicemail. But I’ve loved ya since ya bailed me out. I loved ya when ya copped tha’ headshot in Kentucky. I loved ya when ya were my best man, but I hadn’t the guts t’ tell ya. Cos I know ya don’t feel the same. An it’s fine.
I’ll be wiv Rox, Jb an’ me dad soon. I got bout 10 seconds. It’s kinda beautiful out here, in a way. Goodbye, Harry. I love ya, I love ya, I love ya, I love ya, I love ya, I love ya I love ya I love ya I lo-
Recording has ended. Press 1 to delete, or 2 to replay.
Death is white.
Blurry, blindingly, eye-wateringly white, with white walls, a beeping vitals machine, and a bed with warm, soft sheet.
Harry Hart, with bloodshot, baggy eyes, gripping Eggsy’s warm hand with his larger one, head bent in prayer.
“Don’t you ever, ever leave me a voicemail like that again”.
Damn 😭😭😭
@iffy-kanoknit @iiamsatisfiedwithmycare part 2, as requested 😇
••••••••••••••••••••••
Death has to be one big hallucination, where everything you’ve ever wanted, but can’t have, just…happens.
Eggsy’s in a white room. Or at least he thinks he is. It’s too bright, too blurry; too blinding, so he squints, blinking furiously to try and sharpen his focus.
Death is a comfortable bed, with cozy sheets and several fluffy, pillows stacked beneath his head. He’s in a room, with blinding white walls that looks like the Medical wing in HQ, the vitals machine next to his bed ticking along steadily-
Yep. Definitely a dream. Dead people didn’t have vital signs.
Death also contained a hand linked with his, larger fingers interloped between Eggsy’s. A hand that was attached to an arm, that was connected to a torso, which was connected to a head that looked like Harry Hart. A very woebegone, sleep-rumpled Harry, with gogantic purple bags beneath his eyes and coffee stains on his bespoke.
Eggsy sighs, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. If only Death’s dream was real. When he was alive, he would’ve killed for Harry to be holding his hand. At least he got to tell the real Harry how he felt, before it was too late. To bad he never got a response.
The sigh awakes the Harry-look alike with a jolt, and he sits back in his chair, wild, bloodshot eyes trained sharply on Eggsy. There’s a split second. And then the older man postively flings himself at Eggsy, whose, cast bandaged body protests painfully.
Wait, bandages? Plaster casts? And wasn’t death supposed to be painless?
“Ow.”
“I’m sorry, sorry,” not-Harry-but-might-actually-be-Harry apologises hurriedly, untangling his arms from around Eggsy’s rigidly bound body. But he stays close, running a hand through Eggsy’s light locks of hair. The younger man almost closes his eyes to the touch.
“Merlin, he’s awake,-”
The doors- death has rooms with doors?- slam open, and Merlin zooms inside as fast as his cybernetic legs can carry him. Merlin, who Eggsy knew for a fact was definitely not dead.
“Oh thank God. We didna’ know if yeh were gonna wake up, Galahad,” the Scot addresses him, coming to a stop next to Eggsy’s bed.
“Wake up?” Eggsy replies with a hint of derision, looking between the elder men.
“Yes,” Merlin replies slowly, concern creasing his forehead. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes, there is, I fink, considering I’m dead?” Eggsy responds a tad snarkily, his ribs stinging in reproach. “I fell 30,000 feet in the jet? The ejector seat failed? This is a hallucination created by me brain t’ try an’ cope wif the fact I’m gone, an’ I’ll never see either of ya two again?”
Silence. Until the Quartermaster and Kingsman chief burst out laughing.
“Oh darling,” Harry chuckles, and whilst the pet name is comforting, it does not soothe Eggsy’s indignation. “You do have the penchant for dramatics.”
“I’m sorry to inform you of this, Galahad,” Merlin adds, a humorous curl to his lip as he clutches his trust clipboard. “But you are very much alive.”
“You’re serious?” He was alive. The blood he could feel thrumming through his veins was alive. The breath that his lungs summoned to fill them, was real oxygen. The dull pain that seemed to stretch from his toes to his head, throbbing achingly, was real. Which meant- which meant- that Merlin, and most importantly Harry, who was stroking the back of Eggsy’s hand comfortingly, was real.
“What the fuck. How?” His own voice sounds incredulous, but so hopeful, as a smile threatens to capture his mouth.
“You can thank Merlin for that, Eggsy,” Harry explains, turning his eyes to the tech whiz, who ducks his head modestly.
“I managed to hack the jet’s failing systems with 10 seconds to spare, and activated the internal airbag system,” the Scot extrapolates humbly, tapping away at his clipboard.
He flips it around, Eggsy observes the internal cam inside the jet located behind the pilot’s seat, and watches as upon inpact with the glassy Pacific, a wall of puffy white airbags erupt out of the panels of the jet. He watches his unconscious frame flop around from bag to bag for several seconds, before the footage cuts out.
“The bags not only cushioned the impact, stopping the windshield from shattering, but managed to keep the aircraft afloat for the next hour, until the extraction team happened upon you,” Merlin offers up, as Eggsy lies there; dumbfounded by his own sheer luck. “You had a probable survival rate of .5%. Moderate brain bleed, 5 cracked vertebrae, shattered ribs and arm, perforated spleen, punctured lung, broken hip, overextended muscles and joints nearly everywhere; yet here you are.”
“Right,” Eggsy replies a little faintly, a whoosh of relief escaping his sore lungs. Harry just gives his bandaged hand a gentle squeeze.
Merlin departs with firm orders of bed rest until otherwise stated, and to buzz the big red button if he needed anything. And then Eggsy is alive, alone with Harry Hart, and feeling sick to his stomach.
A few moments of untouched silence tick by, before it bursts out of Eggsy.
“M'sorry about tha’ voicemail, forget itever happened please, Har-”
“I stick to a solemn code of manners almost all the time,” Harry interrupts, brown eyes locked with Eggsy’s green ones. “But today, they matter naught. My dear boy, I really must implore that just for a few minutes, you shut right up.”
Eggsy blinks, eyes wide with surprise, but obliges willingly.
“Thank you.” Another comforting squeeze of his hand.
“That voicemail was the most heartrending transmission I have ever received, in my entire life.”
“Haz-”
“Eggsy, please,” Harry implores him beseechingly, and reluctantly, the younger man reverts to silence.
“But it was also the most important wake up call I have had the fortune of receiving. The was no way, in utter fucking hell, that I was letting you go off and die after you sent me something like that”.
“ You’ve been unconscious for nigh on two weeks now, and every single day, I have sat here.” Eggsy is paralysed by Harry’s gaze.
“I have not moved. I have prayed to every single god and deity that might be up there in oblivion, to grant me this one courtesy, after everything I’ve done. To spare you, so I could finally, selfishly express what I have surpressed for a foolishly long time”.
“Eggsy,” the young man can barely breathe as Harry leans in close. “I don’t care you are married, especially considering it is a ‘marriage of convenience’, as you put it. I don’t care that I am your mentor, or that you are young enough to be my son.”
“All that I care about,” Harry says huskily, a hint of moisture swimming in his tired eyes. “Is telling you how completely and utterly enamored I am with you, and have been since I met you. And how foolhardy I feel for not realising it much sooner. My dear, dear boy-”
But whatever Harry is trying to say is lost, as a plastered arm forcibly pulls him down for a tearful, long-awaited kiss.
Because Eggsy is alive. And the man he is so utterly gone for, the gentleman who made him, loves him to.
Their moment transcends time, but eventually, they separate, foreheads pressed tightly together.
“I just have one request, if you are not opposed to my suggestion.”
“Anything for you, Harry.”
“I will singlehandedly murder you if you ever even think about leaving me a voicemail of that ilk ever again.”
Oh my love. you're angel💕💕💕so sweet thanks for noticing me I think I will sleep well tonight😇😇😇
iffy-kanoknit reblogged
The Breakfast Scene™
This is what my life waited for
iffy-kanoknit reblogged
notbrogues
"So, you've taken my house?" Said Harry to Eggsy after returning to London 😈😈😈
Eggsy stops short, his shoulders hunching up to his ears in a way that Harry finds all at once concerning and rather charming, and Eggsy says uncertainly, “Uh–well, sort of? I mean, before it got blown to bits.”
Harry blinks down at his shoes, for a moment befuddled, before the memories catch up to him in a stomach-turning lurch and he remembers–ah, of course. “But you did stay there,” Harry remarks decisively, finding pressing on with the original matter much more bearable than addressing the fact that he hasn’t quite got a full grasp on all that he has missed.
Harry watches Eggsy scuff the edge of his Oxford against the pavement and has to stop himself from scolding him and instead focuses on Eggsy’s fists shoved in his trouser pockets, the furtive way he had glanced over his shoulder and caught Harry’s gaze and looked so–unguarded, almost reluctant. Harry is entirely aware that Eggsy could have had his pick of houses within London, anything his heart could desire, and he knows that Eggsy knows this.
In all, Harry’s not entirely sure what to make of Eggsy keeping his home and his things when he certainly did not need to, neither expected or asked of him.
Then again, he wasn’t yet sure what to make of Eggsy at all. There were many things left unsaid and Harry found himself unsure how to even start.
“I’m sorry,” Eggsy says timidly, in lieu of actually answering the question but maybe it is answer enough. “Maybe I shouldn’t have, actually a bit fucking weird if I’m being honest,” Eggsy admits with a miserable little laugh, his hand scrubbing over his face, dragging through his hair to wreck the neat part and Harry wanted to reach out to fix it.
“Don’t be,” Harry says, gripping the handle of his brolly just a little tighter. “Just–things. Possessions.” He waves his hand in front of his face. “Easily replaced. But you–”
Eggsy’s gaze goes unfocused for a second, sad and dim in a distressing way where there was once so much, and Harry forgets how Eggsy has yet to live this life long enough to learn to take every new hurt, every new ache with a type of apathy that wears away at you until you are nothing by hardened steel, smooth alabaster, untouchable.
Harry forgot what this life would do to Eggsy; he still has hope that it will not come to that.
Then Eggsy purses his lips, nods his head and the dull sorrow clearing, and he swallows, his tightly clenched jaw ticking when he does it again. He shrugs, a little jerk of his shoulder, finally pausing in his efforts to completely rub out the stitching on his shoes. “I wasn’t even sure if I should but it was just…” Eggsy sighs and shrugs again and looks so much like how Harry had last remembered him, standing in his bathroom: apologetic and worn, regret written in those tired, brilliant eyes. “I couldn’t let them just get rid of all your stuff.”
“Thank you, Eggsy,” Harry manages after a moment even when he feels the words sticking in the back of his dry throat. “Even if I didn’t get to see my things again, it’s nice to know that they were well looked after, even if it was only for a short while.”
“Yeah?” Eggsy’s downturned mouth twitches in the corner, the beginnings of a smile. “Yeah, okay. Well, you’re welcome, Harry.”
Harry had spent a lifetime in that house at the end of the mews, had filled the walls with his butterflies, his drawings; he held his collection of postcards from around the world and Sun covers and expensive crystal tumblers in high regard, was inordinately proud of it all, despite it’s absurdity. He would be a liar to say he did not miss all those things, both for practical and sentimental values, because they had been his. But, he thinks, after all the years he spent surrounded by his things, curating all manner of eccentric hobbies and interests and souvenirs, giving him a place to lay his head after a mission and to drink his scotch at his dining room table and just somewhere he wanted to go at the end of the day, he thinks the best thing his little house ever gave was a place for Eggsy to call home.
So many feelings, so many reluctance but pure and white😊😊😊 love this so much. Cheers♥️
I think I found a yoga ball under the desk in Harry's cell room...
and there's no chair, mate. No Fucking chair JUST THAT YOGA BALL!!!!
Sorry guys
I'm a fan of Kingsman sequel and yes I went to watch The Golden Circle already and yes I don't know why some of you guys are saying many mean things to what they've provided us. Since we're gonna ignore EVERY dislike canons and fix them up as we're pleased (as always) anyway.
And thanks to Matthew, 'cuz we will able to create other MILLION versions of fix-it fics and enjoy them infinitely.
Ps. I've watched it 3 times and yes I want to watch it again if I have more time. And this is my 2nd time of my life needing repeatly watching one movie again and again and again.
iffy-kanoknit reblogged
Eggsy having to stand on his tiptoes to hug Harry, reblog if you agree
Yasssssss
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Oh my...... He's so cheeky
Source: t.co
iffy-kanoknit reblogged
Mark Millar, one of the creators of Kingsman, out here giving stellar running commentary of the Golden Circle press tour
This cheeky creator...🤣🤣🤣
iffy-kanoknit reblogged
I can't stop screaming. This is too much. Everything they've shown us till now is too much. I think I'm not ready for this. I've tried to simulate them once twice more than ten times but still unacceptable.