merestaff-blog

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It /aches/, how utterly unable she is to offer any real aid. All Galahad can do is call for a doctor, hands slowly reaching forward, always reaching, moving herself onto bleached sheets. Forgets, for a moment, that the other's lower legs needn't be made room for. Not anymore. 'They will be here shortly to increase your dosage, Greer. I...' That rare /fidgeting/. Wants to help, but does not know how. 'What can I do?'

    Slams against frame, as much as weakened limbs allow       those that remain, others like phantoms of sharp pain, no, agony. Hisses become whimper against longer frame, curled weakly and broken and covered in gashes. Bare registers futile words. Mussed black hair and the rigor of a hospital gown, the indignity far belittled in the wake of the pain of nightmares, reliving the explosion without full recall. 

    She wakes up without remembering what happened. The realization devastates. 

    Breathing eventually evens, croaking softly against throat. Exhaustion compels relaxation, even as the pain rides her spine, throbbing in new amputations. Shakes her head. 

           ❝ … Harry… ❞  

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galxhxd:

❝Rather the opposite.❞

DOES not comment on state, or what caused it – has no right to remind of rules, when  she  herself  so  frequently  breaks  them. Little  distance  separates, once Harriette takes a seat, crossed legs nearly, though never quite, touching wounded ones. Her remaining eye catches blues with usual, steady calm.

❝Would you offer the truth, if I asked?❞

        ALWAYS CHEEKY, GALAHAD. Even though Harriette has another title now (several,  in fact,  beyond that of Arthur)  she will  always  be Galahad, even though Eggsy carries the mantle quite well, with occasional penchant for getting into just the same amounts of trouble as his predecessor. Greer downs the last inch and puts down the glass, fingers still possessing grace to play Tchachovsky if requested, the dullness far inferior to the one wanted. 

    ❝ Dubitable. ❞  A scoff, no slur in speech although undoubtedly would be if raising from chair to swagger (stagger) away. Bitterness lingers upon ton- -gue, cannot even walk away without needing help.  ❝ I would think you had a briefing to attend, Arthur.❞

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Eggsy: What about your license?

Merlin: Oh, you mean my pilot's license? That's out back in the Cessna. Or perhaps you're referring to my license to kill. Revoked. Trouble at the Kazakhstan border. I could give you the details but then I'd have to kill you, which I can't do because my license to kill has been revoked.

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Ask a headhunter why he cuts off human heads. He’ll say that rage impels him, and rage is born of grief.

                                                                    by dee 

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Anyways I’m traumatized and I want my wife

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do you know what that means?

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Shit! 

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phaeleah :

fake/pretend relationship with one of them kissing the other unexpectedly and being totally casual about it while the other is freaking out internally

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trauma didn’t make me pretty, trauma didn’t make me timid or anxious or soft or delicate trauma made me angry, trauma made me hateful, trauma made me distrusting and mean and bad and undeserving of pity or help.

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Do you ever just wanna be covered in bruises but like that’s not very practical

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Merlin - Kingsman: The Secret Service (2014)

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#the footage we all deserve #IN 3MB

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   It is never the easy jobs. Not with Kingsman agents who make her life wholly more complicated, seemingly making it the bane of their existence. Merlin does not insist upon formality in these sessions, but the delicacy of their resentment implies it. They both know it a farce, a remnant from restraint, but she must keep her own feelings regarding the matter unspoken as she makes her way down the list of questions; a list she must have made her way through dozens, if not hundreds, of times. 

    Maintaining a monotonic voice, she pauses when she comes to the next. Wonders idly what the other thinks of the procedure. For Eurus, it is surely a path of isolation, but given the rather complicated situation of her family members--- brothers, if Merlin recalls correctly, --- there is simply no other choice. 

    ❝ Elaborate, ❞   she invites, knowing it pointless as to the polygraph’s design; the very instrument which Eurus has been trained to be able to manipulate. ❝ Have you never been tempted towards establishing contact? ❞

( @valetpilot touched the glass )

     She severely dislikes this. Evaluation days are the bane of her existence, and not only because she is called for them more frequently than any other agent or operative at Kingsman. Eurus is very aware that it’s done to ensure she’s not about to snap and kill everyone in sight, but she still resents it nonetheless.

     Tactical observation first, then a few examinations, then a physical in which she’s pushed to a literal limit—she has to escape from the edge of a cliff whilst being pursued by a pack of rabid dogs. Finally she sits down, exhausted but upright, to take the polygraph. It’s useless, given her rather unique skillset…even if their technology is more cutting edge than most, she’s still able to trick it every time.

     The electrodes on her arm make her fingers itch, wanting to rip them off, but she remains still as she focuses on answering the latest posed question: have you had any contact with your family or persons who know you are still alive? “No.” They wouldn’t want to, even if they knew.

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it was  i n t i m a t e .

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A message from an old friend. (x)

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galxhxd replied to your post “valetpilot /     — —  merestaff”

Bitter are we

merlin will always be a lil’ bitter about not being missile worthy

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Kingsman 2: The Golden Circle Countdown ― 8 days Favourite Friendships (as voted by my followers) : 2. Merlin & Harry