this ugly mess of a graphic is for you

NEWT GEISZLER’S MIX - An assortment of songs for a certain tiny punk feminist to sing and dance his little heart out to.

i. Body - Mother Mother | ii. Hey - Pixies | iii. Anarchy In The U.K. - Sex Pistols | iv. Bad Karma - Ida Maria | v. Your Mangled Heart  - Gossip | vi. You’re on Fire - They Might Be Giants | vii. Dancing With Myself - Billy Idol | viii. Transgender Dysphoria Blues - Against Me! | ix. Standing in the Way of Control - Gossip | x. Arkansas Heart - Gossip | xi. Sixteen - Iggy Pop | xii. True Trans Soul Rebel - Against Me!

So I’ve been messing around with coloring lately, and I’ve made a ton of icons. I decided to just throw them together in a page in case anyone wanted to use them. The page will be updated regularly with new icons, and you can always request a player if you don’t see one you like. You don’t have to be following me to use them, but it’d be totally cool if you did. No credit needed! Thanks! You can find them here! (x)

vaticancas  asked:

Hey can you write a fic where Harry sends all these flowers to eggsy by accident in their business company bc he keeps sending it to Gary instead of gabby? And eggsy's coworkers are all teasing him bc he has a secret admire?

Okay, so you probably meant that they all worked together and there was a mix-up, but…but flower shop au? (with a little bit of TMFU) Also this is super late and I’m so sorry LOL (OTL)

“Got anotha bunch o’flowers Eggsy?” Jamal asks, staring at the horrendous mess of reds and pinks gathered on Eggsy’s desk in terrified fascination. Eggsy lays his head on his desk in frustration as Jamal grins cheekily at him in amusement. This was the tenth arrangement to come to his desk this week, and each day the flowers became gaudier and louder, leaving his coworkers to wonder if someone hated Eggsy or if he had a confused secret admirer. It was only Wednesday, Eggsy wasn’t sure he could take anymore flowers.

“I’m not sure if they hate you or love you,” Roxy quips from her desk, eyes focusing on her work rather than the ugly mess on Eggsy’s desk.

“Thanks Rox,” Eggsy says scathingly, pushing the heavy arrangement out of sight until he could call up Gaby to dispose of them. It was handy having a mechanic on the bottom floor of the office building, Eggsy muses to himself, Gaby was pretty much the strongest person in the building (if you didn’t count the two fit guys who kept lingering around her office.)

What a strange building he worked at, with U.N.C.L.E. Garage on the bottom floor, Hesketh Finances on the first floor, a bank on the second, Kingsman Law on the third, and finally, Eggsy and Roxy’s graphic design start up on the third floor. Somehow it worked, since most of the floors got along with one another.

Gaby came up to talk with Roxy and Eggsy on a daily basis, and Percy and James from Kingsman had pseudo-adopted Roxy as their own. Charlie was a prick from the financing office downstairs, but he was useful with Eggsy and Roxy when they had Beer Pong tournaments against the Kingsman folks. Arthur was like the old uncle you avoid, the managing partner of Kingsman who occasionally crept around the other offices, but Merlin kept him in check while sneaking glances at Roxy. It felt like a dysfunctional family, but at least they felt like family.

“Bruv!” Ryan crows from the entrance of the office, “You got anotha one!”

“You’re fuckin’ with me,” Eggsy hisses, but he gets up from his desk to where Ryan is standing in the doorway, facepalming as the delivery boy stands in the hallway with another ungodly flower arrangement.

“U-um, t-this is for G-gary?” the boy stutters under Eggsy’s withering glare, reading from a delivery form. Ryan snickers, taking the flowers from the frightened worker and leaving him alone to face Eggsy’s wrath.

“Mate, I ain’t mad at you,” Eggsy starts, trying to calm the trembling kid in front of him. Shite, he couldn’t have been older than eighteen, and here Eggsy was scaring the shite out of him for something he couldn’t control. “Hey, don’t- are you cryin’?”

“S-sorry sir!” the boy sniffles, “Y-you look mad a-and also I’m a-allergic to flowers!”

Eggsy wasn’t even going to mention how stupid it was to work as a flower deliveryman when you were allergic to flowers.

“Sorry,” Eggsy says softly, “Like I said, I ain’t mad at you, I just need t’know who these flowers are comin’ from. Can ya help me with that?”

The boy shakes his head. “M’sorry Mr. Gary, but only the s-shop owner has the c-clients names.”

Eggsy sighs. Of course, it looked like a trip to the flower shop was in order after work today. He dismisses the delivery boy, who runs away like the devil is chasing him, and goes to find the name of the shop from the latest arrangement. There’s a small card hidden within the display, all black with the name Galahad hand-printed elegantly along the front, with the address typed into the bottom right corner of the back.

“Galahad,” Eggsy mutters and tucks the card away in his wallet for later.

“Gaby still hasn’t received my flowers, Hart!” Napoleon exclaims as he barges into Galahad. Harry groans from his place behind the front counter, regretting all of his life decisions that had led to his opening and management of a flower shop. Usually he felt good about his work, watching his customers grab flowers for their loved ones, or ordering arrangements for weddings and birthdays, loving how flowers and their meanings could bring comfort and love to others.

He did not like it when Napoleon Solo came into his store like a raging lunatic, especially when a small blond Russian tended to follow.

“Perhaps she just did not want your flowers?” Harry drawls, standing to meet Napoleon face-to-face as the American fumes from the other side of the counter.

“Why wouldn’t she? I always choose the biggest and most expensive arrangements you have to offer!”

“You’re referring to the purposefully loud and clashing displays I make that no one could possibly like?” Harry snarks back, “No wonder she ‘hasn’t gotten them.’”

The bell for the back door rang and Harry let out a sigh of relief as Napoleon stares at him incredulously. “There’s my delivery boy now, you can ask him yourself if they were delivered to Gaby and her reaction to the horrid flowers you bought.”

“I will,” a voice pipes up from behind Napoleon, and Harry doesn’t jump in surprise. He doesn’t. Illya Kuryakin just appears from thin air and trudges forward. “My flowers were not delivered either.”

Hesitant shuffling could be heard by the back door, and Harry knew his young assistant could hear the two upset men in his shop.

“Rufus, would you please come out here with me?” Harry asks softly, encouraging the boy to come out. The boy usually completed his tasks quickly, and very rarely made mistakes, there shouldn’t be any problem.

“Mr. Hart,” Rufus mutters, shuffling his feet as he walks into the shop, joining Harry behind the counter that separated them from Illya and Napoleon.

“Rufus, please tell these men that you indeed delivered their flowers to Gaby at the Saville Business Complex,” Harry prompts, brandishing his hands in the upset American and Russian’s direction.

Rufus froze.

“G-gaby?” he whimpers, “I-I thought they said G-gary.”

“Oh dear,” Harry says as Napoleon and Illya turn towards the teen. “You two settle down. I’ll have your orders refunded and make new arrangements to send to her tomorrow.”

“You will deliver them personally,” Illya demands with a hard look as Napoleon agrees.

“Yes, fine,” Harry sighs, “now please leave. Rufus, if you’ll start cutting down some blooms for me?”

“Yessir,” Rufus whimpers before he disappears, leaving Harry alone in his shop again.

Well, almost alone.

“Hello, how may I help you?” Harry asks distractedly, calculating the losses he faced from the multiple orders Gaby’s suitors had sent.

“Yeah, can ya tell me whose been sendin’ these?”

“Sending wha-,”Harry begins, pausing when he sees the monstrous vase in a handsome young man’s arms. “Oh. You must be Gary.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Gary confirms, walking forward to drop the flowers onto Harry’s counter, a tight smile plastered on his face. “So I’ve been getting these things for a week now, and I was wonderin’ if you could tell the person sendin’ them to stop?”

“My apologies,” Harry purrs, taking the flowers from Gary’s hands, “I was going to send you a message tomorrow morning about these incidents. We discovered it was a fault to my handwriting.”

“Handwriting?” Gary manages out. He can feel his face turn red as he shivers, the low purr of Harry’s voice getting to him.

“Yes, at the base level of your office building is Miss Gaby. I’m afraid with my handwriting, my driver read Gaby as Gary.”

“Oh, that makes sense!” Gary says brightly, “so the flowers will stop then?”

“Well, the flowers to Gaby will stop. What if someone wants to send you a small bouquet?” Harry teases, watching as Gary turns even redder.

“W-well, in that case, the person would have to send it to Eggsy,” Gary stutters, though he sounds more confident towards the end.

“Eggsy?” Harry asks, confused but flashing the most charming smile he can muster. Gary’s skin looked so nice with the flush of his blush spreading down his neck.

“That’s what I go by,” Gary confirms, “Eggsy.”

“Well then, Eggsy,” Harry says, “I hope you like the flowers for tomorrow then.”

“I’m sure I will.” Eggsy stumbles out of the shop, face still red as Harry watches. Harry smiles, the last thing he sees is Eggsy’s arse before the young man gets into his car and drives off. He’ll have to give Rufus a raise.

The next day Harry puts together the bouquets for Napoleon and Illya, giving Rufus instructions to deliver them in an hour, and makes a smaller and less obnoxious arrangement that he takes with him on his lunch break. The walk to the U.N.C.L.E. and Kingsman building isn’t too long, so he makes it over in good time, straightening his tie before he rides the elevator to the third floor.

“Can I help ya?” a young man asks from the receptionist’s desk.

“Yes, I have a delivery for Mr. Eggsy Unwin?” Harry says, holding up the small arrangement.

“Oh geez really? I thought he got the flower thing sorted out yesterday?” the young man whistles before he leans back and hollers, “Bruv! Ya got another one!”

“What?” Eggsy’s voice yells back before there’s the sound footsteps drawing closer, “what do you mean- Oh. Harry.”

“Hello Eggsy,” Harry greets him. “These are for you.”

Eggsy looks at the amaryllis, calla lilies, and ranunculus and smiles, walking up to Harry and taking the bouquet into his hands. “Thank you, Harry,” he says, smelling the flowers. “They’re lovely.”

“Not quite as lovely as you,” Harry remarks, smiling when Eggsy chuckles at the obvious come-on.

“That the best you can do?” Eggsy teases.

“Give me your number and a lunch date and I’ll show you better.”

“Oh shit Eggsy get it.”

“Shut up Jamal,” Eggsy huffs at his receptionist before turning his attention back to Harry. “I’d love that.”

“I’m on my break now if you’d like to join me?”

“It would be my pleasure.”