#lets also pretend that harry lived in kingsman 1

[jaygrahamns]

kingsman doodles from twt

[madamebaggio]

FATE CAN SUCK IT - Kingsman Fanfiction

Summary: Agatha didn't have an easy life: ran away from home at 15, became a prostitute, met her soulmate at 17...

Harry Hart was everything she had dreamed as little girl, but life destroyed that little girl. She had no use for him and she knew he would never want her, so she left.

10 years later she works for an agency that loves trouble and Harry is back.

Fate is such a pain in the ass.

***

Notes: This work is unfinished, but can be found here. Also, this is a Kingsman soulmate AU with a whole cast of OC.

I hope you enjoy the first chapter.

***

Chapter 1

Nikki was not a complaining person. Well, teenager, to be more honest. She’d had her rebel phase, thinking that she was smarter than everyone else around her and that her parents were stupid tyrants.

Running away with her good-for-nothing boyfriend of the time seemed like a great idea. She had been a very stupid 15-year-old.

Nikki was now 17 and the street had made her cold and cynical. Most days, she felt like she was 90. That’s what being a teenager prostitute did to you. She should not have been surprised.

Good-for-nothing boyfriend left her alone in the middle of London with no money, a fondness for LSD and too scared – and ashamed – to call her parents.

Nikki had always been too pretty and looked older than she actually was. The street was cruel to stupid young girls and turning tricks had been the only answer for her, even if it ate at her faster than the drugs. She was way too skinny now, but at least she was alive and had a roof over her head.

She had been lucky, honestly. Some of the girls had felt sorry for the lost 15-year-old and took her in. She had cried on her first night, until Foxy – one of the older girls – slapped her and told her to grow up and deal with it.

Six months after that, Nikki didn’t give a shit anymore. She felt dead inside and was just waiting for her body to catch up on that.

She wished now that she could look into the eyes of her 15-year-old self and tell her she was a stupid little bitch. She wished for a lot of things.

Right now, she wished she had a jacket.

The asshole of the night had put her in a car and drove her to some fancy neighborhood, then stopped in front of a house and demanded a blow job. Apparently it was his ex-wife’s house. Everybody had weird kinks and ideas; she could not care less about his.

What she did care a lot about was the fact that the bloody bastard refused to pay her for it, then slapped her – hard – in the face, before throwing her out of the car. So now she was in the middle of a posh neighborhood with no idea how to get back home.

It was after one, so there was no living soul on the street and even if there was, she could hardly see one of those blokes wanting to help a hooker. She would be lucky if she didn’t get into even more trouble.

Nikki hugged herself, hoping for a bit more of warmth. She had split lip, her shoulder hurt from where the arsehole had pushed her against the door, before he managed to open it and throw her out of the car. That lovely action left her with skinned hands and knees. The worst part was that she ripped her damn stockings, and they were bloody new!

She sighed and saw her breath in the air. Well, great. Just fucking peachy. She would freeze to death out here. Although… If she thought about the headlines of the next day (“Young hooker found frozen in a respectable neighborhood!”) she could even smile a bit.

She had to get fun from the very few places where she could.

She turned into another street – they all looked the same – and saw a man walking in her direction. He was wearing an honest-to-God suit at this time of night and carrying an umbrella on his arm. He looked like a fucking lord coming down the street.

When he saw her, he stopped for a second to access her – there was no other word for it – before coming in her direction.

“Are you alright, miss?” He asked, a small frown on his too pretty face.

He was older, she could see it now. His hair was perfectly styled, his glasses probably were of some fancy brand and his accent was as posh as it got. But he called her “miss” and Nikki had to laugh at that.

“Miss, darling?” She huffed in a laugh. “Need stronger glasses?”

He arched a brow. “Are you lost?” He insisted.

“That obvious, huh?” She scoffed. “Just need some directions.”

“You’re hurt.”

“Very observant of you.” She rolled her eyes. “Look, darling, either you point me to a direction or…” She looked him up and down. “Ask me the price.”

His lips thinned in obvious reprove. Then it was like he had thought of something. “Alright. What is your price?” He asked politely, like he was asking her what time it was.

Well, she was not expecting that. At all. But she did not trust this guy for a second. He was way too good looking and proper to want a hooker like her. If he wanted one, he could get way better, but she could play the game.

“Depends on what you want, sugar.” She put her hand on her hip and cocked it.

“I want you to come home with me so I can take a look at your bruises, then ask a taxi to take you home.” He said with a simplicity that left Nikki feeling actually shocked.

“You wanna play doctor?” She asked flatly.

This time he rolled his eyes. “Yes.” It was amazing how much sarcasm a person could inflict on one single word. “So?”

“Why not?” She shrugged. What was the worst he could do to her? Kill her?

She walked a bit behind him, but they didn’t have a long way to go before he walked into a street that had a very charming house. It figured.

He opened the door and made a gesture for her to walk in first. She chuckled again at that, being treated as a lady by one of those guys.

He told her to sit on the couch and went to get something. Nikki started regretting a bit not having a knife hidden in her boots like some of the girls did. Maybe she had been a bit too harsh.

She was considering getting up and leaving when the man came back, carrying a small first aid kit.

“Let me see this lip.” He said, sitting by her.

“You can’t possibly be serious.” She was looking at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, because there was no way this man was this nice for absolutely no reason. “I’m not letting you fuck me for free, just cuz you’re being nice.” She warned him deadly serious.

The man looked at her like she had just said the stupidest thing ever. He had this curious look about him, a cross between outrage –at what she said -and disappointment –that she really thought that.

“This is not why I helped you.” He said firmly.

“Why was that again, sugar?”

“I do have a name.” He told her with exaggerated patience.

“OK. Do you want me to ask you what it is?” She made a face of such extreme innocence, that she knew he would see right through it. “I can even pretend to care about the answer.”

The man sighed – once more – and fixed his eyes on her. “Why so hard on the world?” He asked gently. “Why such tall walls?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” She snapped. “I’m a junkie and a whore, you don’t even know me. Why do you care?” She demanded of him. Yes, she was pushing, because she wasn’t exactly a junkie, but she wanted to make him cringe.

She was so pissed at him! Angry that he dared to make her care, that he scared and pressured her. Mad that he made her feel anything at all.

“Because we already live too harsh lives to be unkind to other people for no reason.” He replied honestly, his eyes looking at her like he could actually see her, the real her, not just this empty shell. “Because someone – anyone – ought to care about another human life.”

Oh Lord, this man couldn’t possibly be serious. How could anyone believe in something so cliché and naïve? How could a man at his age – she was guessing late 30’s to early 40’s – even think that the world was anything but a terrible place?

“You’re delusional.” She informed him, her voice shaking a bit.

“Maybe a little bit.” He had this grin on his face. “I’m also Harry Hart. Nice to meet you.”

He offered her his hand, but Nikki was not seeing it. The name kept playing over and over in her head.

“Harry Galahad Hart?” She asked, her voice now really trembling.

His face became shocked, then suspicious in a second. His eyes fell to her chest, not to ogle, but she knew what he was looking for.

Nikki had been born with the name “Harry Galahad Hart” on her chest, right over her heart, in the curve of her breast, the name of her soulmate, the one person in the world that was meant for her. She spent years trying to figure out who that person was, imagining thousand ways in which they could meet.

Then good-for-nothing- boyfriend came along and reminded her that Harry had her name too and was probably older – since she was already born with his name – and he had not come looking for her. Harry might not want her.

Maybe, if she hadn’t been in such a bad place back then, she wouldn't have listened to him so easily, but she was desperate to leave, so she pretended she didn’t care about Harry Hart anymore.

Nowadays, she just knew she had nothing to offer and with her luck Harry would either be a drug dealer or a pimp.

She never thought, in a million years, that she would really meet him, or that he would be so… This.

Harry was frowning now, because there was nothing on her chest. Clients didn’t appreciate seeing soulmates names on their hookers – maybe it reminded them that they were likely cheating – so most girls covered theirs.

Nikki licked her index finger and passed over her chest, revealing some of the letters, enough to read “Galah”.

“So…” He cleared his throat. “You are Aga…”

“I go by Nikki, it’s more whorish.” She had no illusions that this man would want her, so she might as well destroy this now.

“God, you’re 17!” He seemed beyond shocked now. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then his eyes started going from one direction to another, never looking at her.

“I’m also not interested.” She declared getting up; she had to leave this place. This was all she could never have, not now, not ever. Harry might even be a decent man, but he would never be able to handle this.

Even if he thought he was, one day they would fight and what would he say to her? She could hear him calling her a whore already.

“Look.” He got up too, “It’s not that you…”

“Spare me.” She threw her hair back, the picture of nonchalant. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

“Nikki, my life is complicated…” He tried again, but she had enough.

“I don’t care.” She told him with finality. “Because I know where this is heading and I lived 17 years of my life without you in it. I can sure as fuck live the rest of it.”

She walked to the door. “Let me call you a cab.” He asked politely, but also nervous.

“I can walk, darling.” She called over her shoulder before stepping once again into the cold night.

She started walking fast, but Nikki only realized she was crying when the first drop hit her arm. Yes, it still hurt, even knowing she could not have it. It would get better, then again, it was not like it could get any worse.

[carnationbooks]

One Year: Carnation Books Staff Q&A- Lee, CEO

What do you do for Carnation? 

I like to describe myself as the Captain of this Starship, but I guess you can technically also call me the CEO (that's my legal title). I was fortunate enough to be in the right time and place and have the resources to bring Carnation Books to life, but it's been a tremendous group effort as well, bringing a company up from zero with no outside investment. We're 100% fandom-powered, and everyone who's involved with us is also involved in fandom in some respect. As the Captain, I guess I steer the ship, but there are a lot of great people who actually make it go. 

What’s your main fandom? 

BBC Sherlock was the unquestionable impetus for Carnation's creation. It was the catalyst for me getting back into fandom after a long axe battle with depression over the better part of a decade. I first got into Sherlock when I was stranded and terribly bored on the worst vacation ever, and I was in the mood to read something completely new. "I do love murder mysteries," I said to myself, "and I've never read Sherlock Holmes. And that Benedict Cumberbatch fellow is very handsome, isn't he? He was so good as Khan in Star Trek, and isn't he Sherlock on television? And Martin Freeman is a cutie, too, and he's Watson... Well, I wouldn't mind imagining Holmes solving some mysteries together with his BFF Watson!" Ohoho, little did I know how much my life would change, from the first moment that Sherlock "gripped" John's hand at the beginning of in "A Study in Scarlet." This was in early 2015, I think? It was well after Season 3 had ended, and just before the special episode "The Abominable Bride" was announced. Since then, the BBC Sherlock fandom (and specifically Johnlock) has changed my life in ways I never could have imagined. And when people ask me this question about my main fandom, my instinct is to say Sherlock. But, to answer the actual question, uh, my fandoms and ships are:

-BBC Sherlock (John/Sherlock and Greg/Mycroft)

-Star Wars (Kylo Ren/General Hux and Matt the Radar Technician/Clan Techie (the "crack ship" that blindsided me with feelings so strong I cried literal tears))

-Harry Potter (Draco/Harry and Remus/Sirius)

-Star Trek (Reboot Kirk/Spock and some miscellaneous pairings; I share this fandom with my husband!)

-Cabin Pressure (Douglas/Martin and Arthur/Martin, I love them both)

-Hannibal (Hannibal/Will, aka The Only Ship)-Marvel (Steve/Bucky)

-Tolkien (Sam/Frodo and Thorin/Bilbo)

-Kingsman (Harry/Eggsy)

Also, my main hobby outside of western media fandom is video games, which is kind of a fandom in itself, in addition to fandoms for individual games that spin off great fanfiction and fanart. I'm also in the Game Grumps fandom, which, as a comedy Let's Play channel, is kinda peripheral to video games.

What’s your OTP?

I have three answers to this question:

1) My first OTP (before the phrase "OTP" came into frequent usage) was Mulder/Scully from "The X-Files." I had a yellow accordion folder full of G-rated fics that I carried everywhere with me for the entire summer of 1997, including on three vacations. (My parents were pretty tolerant of their quirky kid.) I read a handful of slash fics (mostly Mulder/Skinner) but I definitely didn't ship Mulder with anyone but Scully. I mean, they're totally canon.

2) My OTP for my whole adolesence was Sirius/Remus from Harry Potter. From 7th grade on, I was well obsessed with Harry Potter, and after the third book came out, I read and re-read it, and carried it everywhere with me. It was my first slash pairing where I really saw the romance, and really believed that the characters were meant to be together (and, in the case of Sirius/Remus, had already been together in the past). I read hundreds of Remus/Sirius fics during high school--definitely a formative time in my personal and fandom development. (And really, aren't they the same thing?)

3) The OTP that changed my life, John/Sherlock. What can I say about these two that haven't been said by people much cleverer and more passionate than me? All I can add here is that I'll love the two of them forever, no matter what.

What are your favorite tropes? 

FAKE RELATIONSHIP! I've been on that fake relationship drug since Mulder and Scully had to pretend to be married to solve cases. It's just as good when John and Sherlock have to do it. I love all the attendant tropes, too, like bed-sharing, awkward PDA, mutual pining, and that kiss that starts out awkward but blossoms into the real thing and leaves both characters breathless. You know, the usual. I don't know if this counts as a trope, but I only read fics with happy endings. You can have as much angst as you please, but as long as no good guys die and the pairing ends up happily living together and in love, then it's good enough for me. I love some good old-fashioned hurt/comfort, but "Happy endings only" is kind of my personal motto. 

Most fic read in one sitting? 

My longest total fic binge would probably be that one holiday where I did nothing over a 4 day weekend aside from reading the complete masterpiece "Children, Wake Up" by Holly Hark, @hollyhark aka hollycomb on AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/series/386986). It was absolutely glorious.

What are you reading right now? 

Right now my imagination is totally taken with the Johnlock surfer AU "Gimme Shelter," by @sincewhendoyoucallme-john (https://archiveofourown.org/works/11578941/chapters/26020017). It's a total breath of fresh summer air. I don't usually read WIPs, but this one's like a vacation to the beach. A sandy, salty Pacific ocean beach in the 1970s. Listen, just read it. I'm also slowly making my way through the back catalogue of @berlynn-wohl​ (http://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/), but I've been at it almost a year, and my progress is frankly a bit embarassing.

What are you working on for Carnation right now? 

*conspiratorial whisper* a lot of secrets! Keep watching our blog for a ton of awesome book announcements coming so very soon!  

What would you like to tell people about Carnation Books? 

The number one thing I want people to know is that we're doing everything we're doing for the love of fandom. The company is 100% devoted to fandom and fanfiction writers. We're doing this out of love for fandom, with the sole goal of uplifting and celebrating fanfiction writers. People should also know that we are a startup, we've only been around for a year, we're entirely bootstrapped with no outside funding, and we're pretty much a ragtag gang of plucky outsider underdogs when it comes to publishing (although we've gotten professional assistance where it counts, like our great publishing specialist lawyer and our accountant). We're just fans who are trying our best to support other fans, because we believe in the power of the fandom community. If you believe, too, then we want you to join us. I also want anyone reading this to know that we fully believe that the world of books is big enough for everyone. We support other publishing companies, and we support writers who choose to publish elsewhere. We just wish everyone the best :) I am incredibly lucky to have the circumstances that enable me to captain this starship, and I also understand the tremendous responsibility inherent in caring for other people's creative endeavours. I wish I could personally thank every single person who's ever said an encouraging word about us, or to us. I'll have to just say it here--thank you so much for your support. We look forward to proving you right over the next 12 months. Here's to Carnation Books: Year Two!

We’re all really lucky, and really happy to be working with Lee on this amazing adventure. All of Carnation Books’ staff wishes Lee and this wonderful dream of theirs a very happy birthday. We can’t wait to see what the next year brings. <3

[thisbirdhadflown]

May Fic Rec Round-up, Part II

Agree to Disagree by out_there

Yaaas! Eggsy x Roxy BrOTP forever!

This fic perfectly captures the platonic yet sometimes teasing tone of their friendship. What I loved:

1. All the snarking!

“Oh, hey, Eggsy! It’s your type. Two o’clock.”

Eggsy kept a calm grip on the newspaper he was pretending to read and flicked his gaze across. White, male, average height with wispy white hair that revealed a bald spot when the wind picked up, and an off the rack suit that pulled tightly across his paunch. “How is that my type?”

“Old, fastidious, boring? Probably used to being called grandpa?”

2. Roxy being a good wingman.

“I’m flying to Frankfurt in the morning and scaling the outside of a ridiculously tall building,” Roxy said, leaning across to steal a few crisps from Eggsy’s packet. “If I can do that, you can ask Harry out again.”

3. All of their conversations- the catching up, commiserating over Not!Old!But!Oblivious!Harry- take place while they do badass spy stuff.

Shore Leave at Cornwall by FreshBrains

V-shaped poly relationships are rare in this fandom, and this story is a welcome addition. Not only is this fic hot as hell, but it also features some very interesting relationship dynamics, particularly between Merlin and Harry. All in all, a lovely, intimate story with indelible imagery, including: new Kingsman gadgets; Eggsy splayed across the sheets like a pin-up; and Merlin giving Harry and Eggsy instructions in bed. Ooh la la. ;-)

Now Let’s Play a Little Game by INMH

This is fantastic. Hilarious with great banter, and I really enjoyed the characterization of Merlin. Here he’s sneaky and cheeky and out to game the system in the best possible way.

Son by Cimila

It’s weird because I love my Hartwin porn, but I also absolutely adore this fic.

I have a soft spot for the family of choice trope, and Harry’s gradual realization that he sees Eggsy as his surrogate son (and his subsequent mortification- how dare he presume to feel that way toward Eggsy!) was touching to read. Eggsy’s reciprocation of his feelings  made me so happy- he has finally found the father figure he deserves.

Take What You Can by Tibby

Interesting character study of Harry. This fic takes that memorable one-liner in the church, fleshes it out, and builds a backstory around it. There are also some lovely lines, including:

After all, for as long as the two of them had shared their lives, Mr. Pickles had been a constant reminder that whatever love Harry Hart held, if it was asked of him, he would kill it dead.

[agentdagonet]

Echoes, Ch. 8

can’t believe I forgot to put the last 2 chapters of Echoes up here. Seeing as I’m about to upload chapter 9, I’ll put 7 and 8 up beforehand. Thanks for sticking around, guys!

Find it here on AO3

Find it here on tumblr:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

        And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

          'Why did we watch this again?' The credits are going, and a film Eggsy would love to erase from his memory is finally over. 'Rotten Tomatoes said it was good!'           'The popcorn was empty Rox, tha' means people didn't like it!' '40 percent isn't an awful rating, and we did say we were going to watch a shitty film.'           'There are limits! If I had a time machine the first thing I'd do is prevent this shit from existing!'

          'Really? The first thing you'd do with the ability to go back in time is stop this shitfest from existing?' He knows what she's getting at, but he can't think of that, not just then. He still needed time.           'It's called the butterfly effect, Rox, changin' one thing can affect a million others- who knows what erasing this film would do to the future! Imagine the good I could do!'           'Wow, Eggs' I'd never've guessed you knew about the butterfly effect- so full of surprises.'           'Oh, fuck off.' He shoves her off the arm of the couch, and she thumps to the ground with a yelp. He pretends he did it for comedic effect, but knows he did it to distract himself. He didn't need more will-o'-wisps of Harry in the house. 'Gotta have shit to impress the birds with, y'get me? An' alright some of the blokes, too; but I've always been wicked smart when I wanna be.'           'Sure you have, Eggsy. Whatever helps you sleep at night.' She pats his shoulder, nods sympathetically, and that's what pushes things from teasing to all out war.

          'Oi!' He throws a pillow in her general direction, sure to avoid the greasy pizza boxes sitting on the table in front of him. It knocks the glass from her hand, thankfully empty, and serves its purpose.           The night passes with relative ease, thankfully. The pillow war had resulted in them both being far too tired to move, and instead they had ended up cuddled up in the wreckage- JB curled up at their feet. Unfortunately, good things can't last, and they're woken by Roxy's glasses ringing from the coffee table.

          'Yes, Merlin?' She's stood up, all proper posture despite there being no one to impress, and faced the wall. He guesses it's a concentration thing, or maybe she (rightfully) thinks Eggsy would be making crass gestures and funny faces at her. Small pleasures.           'I'll be right in.' It's fucking weird to only hear half a conversation, but Eggsy's pretty sure he wouldn't have paid much attention even if he could hear. Being half asleep does that.           'I'm sorry to cut this short, Eggs-' She froze, mouth still open, eyes focused on something by the stairwell that he couldn't see. Sitting down on the floor made it difficult to see past couches and such.           'S'okay, Rox, Kingsman comes first- wouldn't have you withou' them now would I? ...Rox?' He waved a hand in front of her face, which wasn't such a smart idea because a startled Roxy is a dangerous Roxy, and she gripped his wrist so tightly he was certain it would bruise.           'How the fuck is Harry Hart in your house?'           'Oh, that don't you worry about it; it's just a thing Harry had that turned on after he died to show us his Will. You can ask Merlin and everythin'- why d'you think I don't wear my specs inside?' please don't ask anything else, please don't ask for details, I don't think I can say more without breaking, please, please, please... She looked at him for a moment, head tilted slightly, before she nodded.

          'Merlin's backing you up, so I guess I believe you; but, can't you just turn it off? I mean, Eggsy, avoiding a problem doesn't make it go away, you know? You've got to let him go; I don't like seeing you in pain.' She looks at him like one would look at a natural disaster from a distance- with pity and immeasurable sadness- and it takes everything in him not to scream. Can't you see I'm trying? But that wouldn't help anyone.

          'Dunno how to turn it off- not like Harry left instructions, we don't even know how it turned on. Or how it works, honestly. So I'm just working around it. We'll figure it out.' They're empty words, things he has no real intention of expanding on, but they placate Roxy into leaving. A mission can't be delayed for too long- they are, after all, usually matters of international importance- and he's incredibly glad to see her leave.           Roxy's an incredible mate, she is, but she had too much distance between herself and her emotions to really sympathise with him. Or maybe it was that Eggsy didn't have enough space between himself and his emotions. He was the one who was out of whack, not her. That made a fair bit more sense- she wasn't nearly as messed up as he was. It was probably just another defect of his.

          'Fuuuuuuuuuck.' Eggsy flopped backward onto the floor. He was messed up. He was living his life to the standard of a man who would never see the results. He was so set against actually working through his grief that he'd snapped at his mum and ran out on her.           (Though, honestly, it wasn't like she'd been all that sensitive in how she'd tried to tackle the issue, right? "Hey a guy you know came to tell me about how your dad died, also why are you crying about his dead mate over a year later?" is just not a tactful way to try to deal with an emotional situation. At least, he didn't think it was. Was it? He doubted a lot of things, at the moment)           He'd apologise, once he knew what to say. It wasn't like there was one of those self-help books "what to do when your mentor dies, you had to see the bullet come at you, and you may or may not have been in love with the idea of him" cos shit that would be a mouthful of a title. Probably wouldn't sell a lot of copies, neither, being so specific an' all.           'I fucked up... Mum def don't deserve that shit from me...' He hadn't meant to be so harsh with her- but he hadn't lied. He wouldn't lie to her like that- and, no (he told himself harshly) withholding the truth wasn't lying. She'd never asked if he'd known how his dad died, had she, so he hadn't lied to her. Not really. But that didn't excuse what he'd done- even if she was pushing a bit much. Honestly, he was a grown man with his own house and he could handle himself- had done for a long while now.

But was he actually handling himself?           He was living in the house of a dead man to keep alive yet somehow avoid his memory. He was avoiding the Hologram of said man, who had in fact spent the majority of their acquaintanceship (because, honestly, were they ever truly friends?) in a coma. A man he had barely known, but had nonetheless believed in him and seen something behind the grime that life in the estates had covered him in. Had seen someone worth something; not someone to rescue (at least, not solely) but someone to be given the tools to rescue himself. Someone to give a chance so that their overall success or failure couldn't be handed off to someone else; their results would be their own.           He'd never mourned Harry the way he deserved to be mourned, with laughter at his expense and drinks to his memory. He didn't have any stories. Oh, the drinks would be easy enough to procure, but drinking without a purpose and drinking to mourn were too close to the things his mum had done growing up; that was a road he did not want to walk down. He wasn't mourning Harry by living in this house, or by taking up his name, he wasn't honouring the memory of a dead man because... Eggsy didn't really believe he was dead. They hadn't ever been able to find his body, they'd buried an empty coffin, Merlin had basically taken over as Arthur, and Kingsman had moved on.           But Harry, the ghost of him or the live one whichever was the reality, wouldn't have wanted him to live like this. Wouldn't have wanted to see an Eggsy stagnated, operating on autopilot in the cenotaph of a man who (by his own measure) was undeserving of such sentiments.           'The fuck are you doing, Eggsy- pull yourself together,' Harry had looked at Eggsy and had seen potential and now Eggsy was squandering it by living in a past he was never actually a part of. Eggsy was still on the floor, flat on his back with the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, hissing breaths through his teeth. Everything'd changed when he'd seen that Hologram what seems like a lifetime ago, but maybe- maybe it was stuff that needed changing.           It hurt, there weren't enough words in every language he'd heard of to describe the pain to think about this. Eggsy wanted to let go of Harry Hart about as much as he had wanted to leave the Marines. But, the needs of the many over the wants of the few (or one, in this case) and all that bullshit; he had a duty to Kingsman to be at his best, and this wasn't it.           Eggsy sat up slowly, pulling up the bottom of his shirt to wipe away the few tears that had escaped, giving himself a few more moments to pull himself together. He made his way upstairs to the guest room, pulling open the drawer that contained his specs before going back downstairs empty handed. Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow and maybe not next week but soon he was going to face at least one of the ghosts that haunted him.