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12 July 2013 @ 09:30 pm
Glee!fic, AtOG: Grey part 15  
Grey part 15, AtOGverse, superhero!AU. I'll do a separate admin post in case of LJ notification borkage . . .

Disclaimer: I own far too many books because I now have to box them all up and move them up a giant fucking hill, but I don't own anything that might make me any money, no.
Rating: R? I think R.

Warnings: The thing about all the warnings on part one is that they genuinely might pop up whenever, this is just not a very nice universe to live in, I'm sorry about that; things happen this chapter to people too young for all this crap, but I promise there are superheroes there for them. Also, all the shit that comes up in any individual chapter, you never know when that's actually *over*, so, all the bad things that might have already happened? Might come up again. Sorry <3 (Though, sometimes the good things rear their heads again too . . .)

Summary: Everything that was done leaves a ghost; they outnumber us as the dead do.

Note: Bobby Bland died recently, I've danced to a few of his songs played as tributes at soul nights since; he's responsible for both one of the cutest and one of the nastiest songs I know (he takes far too much pleasure in that last verse o_0), god love him; thank you for the dance, honey <3 Thus ends Rainjoy's most recent broadcast about sad times for soul. In happier news Bobby Womack fucking rocked Glastonbury. Fuck yeah Bobby Womack <3 (I cried THREE TIMES it was AMAZING =D )

Kurt has a 'throat infection' that weekend.

He actually is hoarse as hell afterwards - getting electrocuted by the neck while screaming your throat ragged is apparently a really stupid thing to do. He's done dumber, as the Ghost, he's just never really done anything that dumb in front of Blaine before.

There was the time that he crouched to roll someone into the recovery position and it turned out that his face-down friend wasn't actually unconscious and really wasn't unarmed. There was the time that he thought that helping a guy out when the fight spilled outside a bar turned from knives to a sudden pulled gun would make him in some way grateful enough to not try to stab him in the back after saving his life. There was that one time that he thought the roof of a derelict building could take his weight and that turned out to be embarrassingly untrue.

(Oh, there was the time he tried to slow Sam down with a rope and his own weight, a moment he was very glad their 'paparazzi' didn't catch. And the time he realised that the super he was fighting was David Karofsky and stood there like a slack-jawed idiot for him to flatten. Oh god, and that time he tried to be nice to the giant snake-monster who just tried to kill his boyfriend, okay, no, Kurt has done a lot of stupid things Blaine is very aware of and his hero-worship of Kurt probably died a long while back, actually . . .)

You learn to count these things as a win. New York is still standing and no-one died - miracle that that might be, but while the hospitals' ERs are pretty crazy that Saturday, no-one actually died, and Kurt could pray but actually he just marvels at probability's occasional, ephemeral mercy. No-one died and they escaped unseen from the scene, jettisoning SIM cards so Agent Sylvester can't get hold of them before they're ready for it. No-one died, and Blaine is very insistent about taking him home and putting him to bed. Then he goes out to buy a really enormous amount of ice cream and Popsicles and frozen yoghurt, everything to soothe Kurt's wrecked throat, and on his return Kurt pulls Blaine back into the bed with him.

His superhero boyfriend deserves his rest too. Also, Kurt's feet get cold without him in there.

So they do take Saturday night off, checking over each other's bruises in bed, Blaine putting his hand over Kurt's mouth to keep him from talking, then putting his mouth over his, then slipping his hands down his sides and rolling him onto his back.

There's something about a post-near-death-experience orgasm . . .

Kurt's not going to make it to yoga on Sunday morning. So late that morning he has his own mini-practice in his bedroom, Blaine watching from the bed, very attentive-dark-eyed.

He says, "You do that in front of other people?"

Kurt, settling into an easy dog, says through a still-rasping voice, "What? Why?"

He glances across and Blaine's smiling, a little. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you doing that in front of other men."

"Really, Blaine."

"Some of those poses are obscene."

"Yoga is not about sex. Not everyone has a one track mind."

"Maybe you should start wearing something frumpier for it."

Kurt actually stands up and folds his arms and looks at Blaine after that, because no human being on this planet (not even his dad, which means that no-one ever will) has ever told him what to wear, not even back when his insistence on wearing knee-length sweaters was part of the reason he was getting slammed into lockers and targeted by pee balloons, not ever, not once, the things he puts on his body are his choice -

Blaine holds his hands up, head ducked and grinning, and says, "Maybe I should just come along as a chaperone, then."

"Oh because you're seriously getting up early on a Sunday for it."

"Don't talk if it hurts your throat."

Kurt signs to him - something else it had been necessary for the Ghost and Phalanx to learn, after the Ghost helped a runaway hearing impaired kid once and found that he had no real way of communicating with her and felt almost too guilty to bear it - I'll hurt your throat, Blaine.

Then he goes sniffily back to doing yoga, and Blaine goes back to watching, like it really is that fascinating to him.

He Skypes his with dad since he can't really call him, and his dad won't let him talk anyway. So mostly he just sits there watching his dad's face while he gets berated in a very rough voice for being so goddamned stupid and careless and what was he even thinking, Kurt . . . ?

Kurt croaks, "I -"

"Don't talk. Shouldn't you be in the hospital or something?"

Blaine leans over his shoulder to say, "He's doing okay, sir, he's just resting his voice."

Kurt Morse code thumps into his side A S S H O before Blaine skips away again, and his dad says, "I thought I was gonna throw up on the living room floor, Kurt, I can't watch that -" and Kurt scrunches his cheek up on a fist, propped on his elbow on the desk, giving his dad in his laptop screen a look like an annoyed cat because he didn't ask for this to happen in broad daylight in full glare of the nation's media . . .

Rachel's out for most of the day, and Kurt does suspect that her current work schedule has as much to do with distracting her from thoughts of Finn as it does with supers tearing up the city and all the fallout from that. Through Detective Hudson Agent Sylvester has requested the suit the Ghost hid back, and he's ignoring her. She wanted that damn suit under his city, fine, it's under his city. If anyone wants it now then they have to come through him. Isn't that what they wanted in the first place?

Skipping through DVD menus to get to the movie Blaine murmurs, "I wonder what that team . . ."

Kurt glances at him, and quirks his mouth. He's been thinking about them too. Thinking about Artie, and what he's probably going through right now if the rest of the team blames him for all that - Kurt knows what it is to be shoved to the outskirts of that team and unwanted, after all. And the rest of them . . .

They'd always seemed so cocky and clueless and young to him. And maybe, for the first time, they see that in themselves too. Maybe for the first time they understand what they're actually doing. Most of them have seen action before but mostly it's been against him and he was never going to hurt them, not really - not the way Hunter would have, not the way that could have turned out.

He puts his cheek on Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine tucks the throw around the two of them as the movie starts.

They wake up again Kurt doesn't know how far in when Rachel closes the door to the apartment, and stands there blinking in the dim, just the glow of the TV's screen and the remainder of light outside illuminating the evening apartment. Kurt rubs his eyes, looks back at her, looks at the screen - when did he fall asleep? - and says, voice all rough-rutted, "How was work?"

She takes a breath. There's something fragile in Rachel these days, something more hesitant, something softer. Something that always used to be so buried under layers of certainty that, suddenly exposed to air, it's so tender it must sting. She says, "Don't talk. I'll make you some tea, we have honey . . ."

Blaine pauses the movie, says, "Do you want to watch with us?"

Rachel moves around in the kitchen, clinking mugs. "How far along is it?"

They look at each other. Blaine rubs his eyes and says, "I can't even remember what movie it is."

"We can go-"

"Don't talk," Rachel and Blaine say simultaneously, and Kurt rolls his eyes, picks up a cushion and hugs it to sulk with while Blaine says, "We'll start again, I think we were both asleep two minutes in."

They shuffle apart to let her sit between them and watch a movie with Rachel, and eat ice cream. As far as evenings go for them it's not a bad one at all, as Rachel puts her head on Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt wonders about Finn, and when he can pin him down to talk to him. Towards the end Blaine yawns and says, "I should head out tonight."

Kurt says, "I c-"

"Don't talk."

"It's not that -"

Rachel puts a hand over his mouth. "You sound like you're trying to cough up a bird."

Kurt takes her wrist and pulls it off his mouth. "I didn't hurt my powers."

"Stay in tonight," Blaine says, and rubs the back of his hand, eyes all worried on his. "Please?"

Kurt sighs very heavily to let them both know how tedious they are, and Rachel cups his jaw to bring his face in so she can kiss the other cheek, and Kurt rolls his eyes to the ceiling, again.

He hates when Blaine's out without him. He sleeps restlessly, dreaming odd half-dreams - why is he dreaming about the zombie apocalypse? This must be Blaine's fault - until the door clicks closed behind Blaine, smelling of the cool night outside, pushing his bag underneath Kurt's bed for now and saying as Kurt's hands try to tug him into the bed, "Don't speak. Just let me brush my - my teeth and -"

He loses the rest of it to a yawn, and Kurt stubbornly kisses him before he can leave for the bathroom.

He doesn't remember him actually getting into the bed.

On Monday morning Kurt goes to work still 'recovering from a throat infection'. Sophie gives him a wide berth and Brian finds it amusing to send him notes all day long to be replied to strictly in writing. A couple of guys in the office who have never liked him and Kurt knows it - older than him and more junior than him and jealousy is really a very unattractive trait - make bitchy comments in his general direction all day long which he can't really respond to with his dignity intact, his voice is so very ugly like this. So he ignores them. They think they're big mean bullies? Amateurs. Kurt could take them before breakfast without it denting his day.

(Chandler gives them dirty looks but doesn't dare speak up; Robbie, lazily playing ceiling darts while seeking inspiration, manages to ricochet a pencil into one of their mugs and, judging by the way he leaps out of his seat hands in the air, that was his target anyway. Kurt keeps his head down and works, but feels the warmth in him knot. The world is a balance of good things and bad things, and he really has been very lucky in some of his good things.)

He does, when one brings a design up to his desk affecting indifference, get to vent some of his feelings via a very righteous red pencil. Because their bitching might actually get to him if they were a lot more competent than they are . . .

He does go out that night, ignoring Blaine's insistence that he doesn't. He hangs back, and doesn't speak much. He likes when Phalanx takes the lead, likes watching him be that hero, assured and amiable even to crooks and gang members. The same crooks and gang members catch sight of the silent Ghost in the shadows and they freeze like stunned animals, and the Ghost who earlier today was Kurt Hummel in a canary yellow jacket and black and white striped tight-fitting pants thinks, Am I really so scary to you . . . ?

But they don't know him. No-one really knows him but Blaine. They see what they see, not who he is. It's what every newspaper and all the internet sees too, the cloak, and the Ghost inside it is invisible to them.

Well. He made his choices a long time ago.

By Tuesday his voice sounds almost normal, you'd have to know him well to know there's still a slight coarsened edge to it. Once he's really got as much honey down his throat as he can feasibly manage - his sugar crash is going to be pretty epic when it does happen - he costumes up with Phalanx, and sings a scale for him in his bedroom to prove that he's fine, really, Phalanx. And they step out again together onto a bridge of shields over New York, and the Ghost's city sings electric through his skin, every nerve ending snapping upright. He loves this place. He loves this place. Phalanx would be happy anywhere really and he knows it but this city is his, this city is his heart, high buildings his ribcage, his blood pumps through its streets to its rapid buzzing beat. He knows every scent, almost every street, he knows its moods and its seasons, he's been out in pitch black power cuts and midsummer dawns hauling light back into the sky before he's even made it to bed, he knows his city.

And on its concrete, in its air, it knows him. It knows he belongs to it, it knows that he recognises no god but it, that he consecrated himself to the service of New York and was offered in return a purpose and a home. Why do people insist on picking fights with the Ghost here? Don't they know that here he always has a home turf advantage?

New York's air shakes his cloak, expands his lungs, wakes him for the night. He squeezes Phalanx's waist in his arms, and Phalanx murmurs, "Let's go." and steps onto the shield's tilt, sending them into a slide. The Ghost closes his eyes, and between Phalanx and his city, he couldn't feel more right.


The girl curled on her side on a subway bench, cheek on an open magazine, snorts her breath in and puts a hand down to sit when a gentle voice says, "Excuse me."

She blinks, dazey and drowsy; everyone else is off the train, and Phalanx stands back against the door to the next carriage, keeping it shielded so the guard on his way through the train can't interrupt them. "I know you must have a reason for being here," the Ghost says, kneeling next to her seat as she stares at him. "But they will keep bumping you between trains all night long, it's really not a good way to get some sleep. There's a women's shelter not too far from this stop if you need somewhere to go."

She brushes her hair back under her hood, looks across at Phalanx who gives her an encouraging smile, looks back at the Ghost, and her hand shifts that magazine. "You . . ."

"We can walk you there. Invisible if you like. It's just - I'm sorry, it's not really safe for you to be out alone at this time of night. But there are people who'll help. People who understand if you can't go home. I promise."

She must be about fourteen years old, and when her sleeves fall back, she's got bruises and scars on her wrists. She stares at the Ghost, drawing her breath in long through her nose, then looks down at the magazine and flips through it, and holds it out to him. "You seen this?"

Phalanx recognises the magazine and puts his head back like it might disguise his grin if he aims it at the ceiling, as the train's guard shakes the door behind him, banging it a little against his shields, swearing when it won't move.

Five years back, the Ghost of New York made it onto the Time 100 list. Blaine keeps the cutting on the wall by his computer, another one that used that image of the Ghost outside that burning building, gasping down oxygen like it's the first time he's breathed at all in minutes. And this year, on the page the Ghost is looking bemused at now, 'ghostlanx' made it onto the list.

The Ghost used to ignite discussions about supers; the two of them now start arguments about both supers and homosexuality in America, because an entire generation of kids are growing up with those two as their heroes, and doesn't that just . . . if they never achieved anything else, that alone would sit warm in Phalanx's heart. Just because they love each other, other people are making room for more love in their lives. Isn't that just . . . ?

"I'm . . . we're aware of it. That guard really does need to do his job, if we could just move out of the carriage . . ."

"I'll come with you," she says, sounding young and trying not to be, "if you'll sign it for me."

He blinks at her, then gives a startled single laugh, and looks across at Phalanx, leaning back on his shields as the guard yells at him and slams the door into them, and he grins.

They walk her invisible until they're almost at the entrance, a nondescript brick building, one they haven't been to in a while - the Ghost visits these places more often than he does, his powers are more practical for moving people unseen. The girl is clutching her magazine close, shaking a little, as the Ghost murmurs to her that it's okay, he knows them, they'll make sure she's okay, she's doing everything right and people will help her.

They don't really have 'signatures'; her magazine now bears the doodle of a ghost, and a hexagonal phi and smiley face.

They have to get buzzed in, and it takes a moment, there's some kind of confusion happening on the other end of the intercom, until the door gives a harsh noise and clicks. Phalanx pushes it open, and she looks very young and scared again, and the Ghost touches her back. Her hands ball into fists, her face has gone drained and her eyes seem far too big for it, as the Ghost just waits, patient as ghosts are, and Phalanx follows his lead.

She takes a breath, and she walks in.

One of the volunteers in the reception area touches her shoulder and says hi and asks for her name, looking at the Ghost for some details of what circumstances brought them here. Phalanx looks down at a kid sitting on the linoleum playing with a toy truck, who looks up at him open-mouthed. Phalanx smiles back.

A door bangs open down the corridor and shoes are clap-clap-clapping towards them. The volunteer looks across and quirks her mouth and begins leading the teenage girl holding the magazine tight away, who looks back at the Ghost - he gives her a smile, though Phalanx can see how he's tensed slightly not knowing who's approaching them in a hurry and why. Phalanx doesn't recognise the woman with a crazy bush of hair who runs around the reception desk and chokes, voice straining, "You." but evidently the Ghost does, because he doesn't panic and vanish, just stumbles back under the force of her hug and then stands there looking bewildered for a second before he closes his arms around her back too.

"Carol . . ." he says.


He rubs her back a little; she's a very small woman, no taller than Rachel though plumper, banging him in the side and saying again, "You." as the teenage girl gives one glance back, amusement wakening in her, before the doors swing and she's gone, deeper into the shelter and safe.

The Ghost says, "I take it . . ."

"You." she chokes, and fumbles a blind arm out, finds Phalanx's arm and yanks him into the hug as well. "You."

Hugs are nice, even when you don't really know why you're getting them.

In a paper-demented office - it would be cramped even before all the boxes and filing cabinets and the three plastic chairs dragged in - she gives them cups of quite bad but always welcome coffee, and jerks the door closed with some difficulty, kicking a box out of the way, probably in deference to the Ghost. He does lift his head higher in the hood once the door's closed and they're safely private, safely unseen. "She came early in the morning, Dawn was on the front desk, she said she'd thought she'd fallen asleep at the desk and dreamed it."

"We didn't ask her to visit," the Ghost says, raising his coffee to his nose.

"Well she did," Carol says, sitting with a flump in her own seat. "Mercedes Jones with a bodyguard and a scarf over her head and shades over her eyes like that makes her less obvious, she wanted to 'look around' and we have - it matters that this is a safe space for the people who use it, we take confidentiality seriously -"

"Carol, honestly, we didn't tell her to visit."

"- and Dawn couldn't get hold of me on the phone because I sleep through earthquakes so she showed her the places she could, the kitchens and the laundry and that baseme-"

She starts crying again. She's been crying on and off since they arrived. Phalanx would guess her about forty but she has a soft-skinned face that makes her age hard to tell; she could be a well-preserved fifty, or a too-long-lived thirty. She has the sort of heaviness under her eyes that he and the Ghost know intimately, a sleep deficit that never will be caught up on, so long familiar it's ingrained.

The Ghost says, "I take it she, um -"

Carol gives a shaky sobbing breath, and blows her nose, and says, "Finally fixed the damp in the b-basement, we got fifteen more beds in down there, there was the money to p-partition off family rooms and -"

And then she's gone again, crying too hard to talk, and the Ghost finds her hand, and she squeezes his back hard.

"You," she chokes at him, and he says, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry -?"

"I don't really know," he says, and starts laughing, taking a Kleenex from his belt to help clean her up. "I'd forgotten I'd even . . . I'd forgotten we'd asked her to do that, you know our lives are sort of . . ."

She draws herself up, takes the tissue from him to wipe her face off more firmly than his patting, sniffs hard and looks at Phalanx. "You I don't know."

Phalanx keeps his smile polite. "I usually let him walk people to these places if they need to come here, he's more, um, discreet. It's nice to meet you."

Carol looks at the Ghost. The Ghost looks at his coffee cup and presses his lips together hard, Phalanx thinks in an attempt not to blush. It's half-successful.

"It's nice to meet you too," she says to Phalanx, with the smallest, slyest smile.

And Phalanx wonders how many people there are out there, the Mr Contis and the Carols, who must have so long wished for some indication that the quiet, serious, solitary Ghost had something in his life to be happy about . . .

She sniffs again, and takes a gulp of coffee like she doesn't even feel the scalding heat of it. "You remember the first time you came here?" she says.

The Ghost cups his coffee in both hands, and nods. He looks calm, smiling a little, eyes on his coffee. Carol says, "You looked terrified. I don't even know how old you were, you looked -"

"Secret identity," he murmurs, and she waves a hand.

"We're good at confidentiality. You looked utterly terrified and I thought, That boy is in way over his head."

The Ghost rolls his eyes to the ceiling, and takes a sip of coffee.

"I gave you a cup of coffee then."

"You did."

"You asked if there were things you should know, to help people."

"I did."

"I said you should go home to bed because it was a school night."

His smile twitches at his cup, and Phalanx grins, and drinks some coffee.

"But you came back."

"I did. Someone has to, Carol."

She looks at him, and the Ghost looks back at his coffee, swallows and then takes a drink. She says, "I just kept thinking, even after you'd stopped looking so scared, when it was all normal to you, I just kept thinking, That boy should not be on his own."

"I wasn't," he says quietly. "I never really was. I know it might sound weird to say I liked coming here, but I liked . . . I've always liked knowing that places like this exist. Knowing that you're here doing everything you can. Knowing that I'm not the only person doing anything. Not that I'm not glad that he's here now too," Lifting his eyes to Phalanx, who smiles back.

"We don't do what you do. We saw that thing last week on the news, all those other supers, that was . . ."

"It probably looked worse than it was."

"I couldn't - all I could think was, oh god, that boy . . ."

The Ghost is visibly pink now. Phalanx hunches his shoulders a little and smiles. He says, "He looks younger than he is,"

"I should hope you both do." she says, as the Ghost murmurs, "Secret identity, Phalanx."

"You are okay?"

"Fine," he says, softly. "We both are. I know what we do is - flashier, but Carol, if it wasn't for you and people like you I couldn't do a thing, you know that. What could we do for every kid sleeping on the subway on a night if there wasn't somewhere to bring them? If it wasn't for this place, places like this, we couldn't even scrape the surface, at least together we're all making a dent."

Carol blows her nose, and gulps more coffee. "She wrote us a cheque for twenty-five thousand dollars." she says. "Do you know what that kind of money means to us? When Dawn finally did wake me up I started crying and I didn't stop the whole day, do you know -"

"I know, Carol. I know."

"It's - toys for the kids and a new dryer and - one winter ahead not spent worrying myself sick every single day in case a pipe bursts and we can't - do you know what it means to us?"

"I know, Carol, I know . . ."

He takes her hand, and Phalanx can hardly help but be reminded by Carol of Carole, and how Kurt's behaviour so often teeters somewhere on the edge between motherless and motherly, as if he after all does know what it is to need so much something you just don't have.

By the time they're heading out back onto the streets again, a little crowd of kids have gathered in the reception area, clearly hoping they'll come back this way. They stare at them - they're mostly in pyjamas, they must have clambered out of bed as the word spread through the shelter, and Carol claps her hands and says, "Guys, it is eleven at night and you should be -"

But you can't get between a child and their favourite superhero. Two kids touch the Ghost's cloak like it might be magic, and when it doesn't disappear they hang on to it; a little girl very shyly presents a drawing - sunny sky at the top, jagged New York buildings at the bottom, and a smiling pale blue (presumably she didn't have a grey, or it wouldn't have shown up) ghost in the middle of them, apparently flying. "Did you draw that?" he whispers to her, bending so he's not so much taller, and she pulls the picture up under her nose to hide as much of her face as she can and nods and nods.

A boy missing a front tooth pulls at Phalanx's arm. "Are you super-strong?"

"I'm so strong," Phalanx says, "I can lift two whole eight year olds." and hikes him up and hangs him upside-down, and the kid laughs like it is the best thing that has ever happened.

"Gina, god, you're s'posed to be in bed . . ." a mother says, yawning, at the side of the counter. The Ghost looks across and smiles, but the girl tugs at his hood for his attention again. She whispers to him and he whispers back, "Really? Thank you so much -" and hunts around in his belt for candy, he stocks up every Hallowe'en. "Not until the morning," he warns as he doles it out. "Crazy time of the night for sugar, ask your moms when it's okay to eat it."

The picture he folds up and slots in his belt, and the girl won't let go of his cloak. Phalanx rights the boy and he stumbles around on the linoleum, laughing and dizzy, Phalanx quickly grabbing his shoulders so he doesn't pitch face-first into the desk. But the girl wraps the Ghost's cloak in her hands so he won't leave and draws her trembling voice up and says to him, shaking, "I wanna be a superhero."

His smile twitches, happy-sad, and he says, "I bet you already are one. I bet you've been really brave and helped your mom out a lot."

And then she starts crying, and the Ghost doesn't abandon crying people, so he sits down on the floor to hug her for a while, as Phalanx gives piggybacks around the desk to a queue of bouncing children.

This can't be an easy way to grow up. There's no good reason for kids to be in a shelter like this. And Phalanx knows what superheroes mean to people, as the Ghost slits a fine strip from the bottom of his cloak, slots his knife away again, and hums quietly as he braids back and ribbons off the girl's dark hair, and wipes her eyes off again.

A slightly older girl says, "Superheroes don't cry."

"Everyone cries sometimes," the Ghost says, and holds the tissue to her nose. "Blow. I cry every time I read The Little Mermaid."

Secret identities can clearly go screw themselves when crying children are involved, then. Carol says, "Guys, come on, they need to go rescue people, let 'em up . . ."

The Ghost stands up, and lifts the girl to her feet by her hands. "Thank you for the picture," he says. "I love it. I can't wait to put it up."

Phalanx currently has one boy and two girls hanging off his armour and can't get upright, and the Ghost helps him pick children off his back laughing, then holds his hand and says to Carol, "I'm sure we'll see each other soon."

"It'd be nice if we didn't need to, but I'm sure we will too." she says. "Look after yourselves, you two."

"You too." he says, and Phalanx waves at the kids, and they vanish. Half the kids gasp; that little girl with her hair braided back goes eyes-wide delighted; two of them scream. The Ghost squeezes his hand and tugs Phalanx out of the wall, back into the night, and Phalanx's step skips fast and happy, dragging him forward now, the laughter balls out of him even though they're invisible and they ought to be silent, he just -

"Phalanx -"

"You're amazing."

He fades a little into view, tugging him towards a nearby fire escape and a rooftop they can escape to. "And so is my boyfriend," he says, grinning, "Super-Phalanx, who can lift three whole eight year olds -"

Phalanx puts his arms around his waist from behind and lifts the Ghost off his feet, carries him staggering to the fire escape while the Ghost laughs and smacks at his hands and laughs.

Phalanx is glad to know Carol exists, always glad to know of any extra person who cares about his boyfriend the right way. He finds thinking about the Ghost's lonely years too painful to bear and he's not even the one who had to live them, he really can't think what doing this on your own is like. Those little pockets of love, those people who worried and fussed, he's so glad they were there, before Phalanx was, to care about him.

A 'normal' night; car jacking, unconscious and unresponsive homeless man to call an ambulance for, they stop to help some firefighters called to get some kids out of a derelict building with the roof pitched in (Phalanx carries a teenager with a twisted ankle out on his back while the Ghost holds his hand and gets them through the rubble and sagging walls intangible, Phalanx really is a superhero packhorse tonight). They do a pass over a street of gay haunts just to keep an eye on them and on the open top floor of a parking garage at the end -

The kid had come flying out of the car in a tearful panic but a hand grabbed his ankle and he went down hard, his bag falling to the ground, catching the door and banging one elbow, screaming. The Ghost is instantly gone from Phalanx's side. Phalanx kicks off a building's roof onto a path of shield-slides, sees the kid jerk and stumble and fall to his knees outside the door, and the guy still on the back seat -

Yelps, as he's wrenched out of it in invisible hands and the Ghost reappears pale and grim as he slams him over his shoulder to land winded and retching his breath out on the concrete. Phalanx skips off the shields and hurries over, grabbing the coughing guy by the shoulders and dragging him back from the kid scrabbling and kicking to get his back to the car, to get all the space he can between himself and that man.

The Ghost hangs slightly back from the kid, hands held up, speaking quietly and urgently. Phalanx cuffs the guy to the door handle of another car and says, "I hope you don't need to pee or anything because if that kid isn't pressing charges, no way in hell I'm uncuffing you." and walks over, but slowly, because he doesn't want to interrupt . . .

"It's over," the Ghost is saying, body bent so he's small and unthreatening, hands held weaponless and open. "No-one is going to hurt you, it's over, no-one is going to -"

The kid stares at him wet-eyed and tight-shirted, and he looks about fifteen but then teenagers have started looking younger and younger to Phalanx, he must be getting old. The Ghost says, "It's going to be oka-" and the kid launches himself at him, arms around his neck and dragging him down to one knee, shoulders shaking as he starts sobbing into his cloak. The Ghost looks surprised for only a fraction of a second before he wraps his arms around his shoulders and lowers his head and Phalanx hears the fierceness of his voice as he promises, low and meant, "No-one is going to hurt you. No-one is going to hurt you."

Phalanx would not want to be the person to make the Ghost keep that promise. He sounds like he could snap necks to make it true.

Phalanx picks up the kid's dropped messenger bag, clinking with keyrings, as the Ghost rubs his back and the kid cries, and the Ghost says, "You're okay. You're going to be okay. It's over. No-one's going to hurt you. No-one is going to hurt you. No-one."

Phalanx looks at the keyrings - one is a white plastic ghost, and there's a rainbow-painted love heart. On the bag's flap, faded and crumbling, white paint spells out, I BE IEVE I THE GHO T.

He looks down at that crying kid, as the Ghost tucks his head closer and lays a gloved hand over his hair, closes his eyes and whispers to him, "No-one is going to hurt you." and Phalanx knows that even if this is the first time he's needed it so immediately, this is not the first time that the Ghost has saved that kid's life.


He says he can't call the cops, his parents don't know he's out, they can't know, and he wipes his eyes again. He can't call them, they can't know, they'll -

And his face looks almost grey, like he's waiting for them to look at him the wrong way. The Ghost says, "You didn't ask for that to happen. Nothing you did meant that that should happen. Nothing."

And he starts crying again, over the cup of coffee Phalanx brought up for him.

He'd snuck out, come into the city with a fake ID just to see what the bars were like, for a kid from way out in the suburbs this had all felt so distant and wild and real, the dream of the life he'd always wanted. And he'd talked to people over the music and it had been amazing, like someone turned all the lights on, like the world was suddenly every colour of the rainbow instead of dishwater-grey - until he'd needed to get back home, and some guy had offered him a lift. It had seemed like so natural a part of the new camaraderie he'd found that he hadn't known the man had wanted anything else.

Phalanx watches the way the Ghost watches him, and hands him another Kleenex.

(No-one is going to hurt you. Doesn't he know what that kid wanted to hear in that moment . . . ?)

The Ghost says he'll take him home, ghost him on the subways and buses, get him safe back to his parents' house. They don't have to know if he doesn't want them to. All that matters is that he gets home safe, and that he's okay.

Phalanx will patrol while he takes him back. Phalanx hands the kid's bag to the Ghost and murmurs to him as the kid blows his nose, "There'll be posters." The Ghost looks at him, eyebrows nipping a frown, not quite understanding. Phalanx raises his own eyebrows and grins. He'll understand soon enough.

He trips a guy running out of a convenience store with a gun in one hand and a bag of cash and cigarettes in the other, knocks over and ties to a tree a guy who opens his overcoat in front of two girls walking in the park, shields into their pick-up two guys who've wrenched a cash machine out of the wall and holds them in the street, waiting for the cops to come for them. It's already late when he gets the text from the Ghost and texts back his location, and waits for him on a rooftop, swinging his heels, humming to himself.

He knows that the Ghost isn't always comfortable with the superhero persona, the person he has to be because people expect it of him, but put a hurt kid in front of him and he could do anything and Phalanx doesn't doubt it. He's adorable with little kids and so understanding as they get older, as they look at the Ghost and need him to understand them because he's their hero and if he looked at them wrong it would break their life. He does understand them. He understands that they have a complicated life they're only beginning to learn to navigate, understands the size of the world they're dealing with, understands that life isn't a movie and the things children deal with don't happen in appropriately age-rated categories, understands their fear and the ways other people will hurt and confuse and use them. He understands the quiet, everyday bravery of getting by, and the heroism of loving people and doing your best for others in a very difficult world.

It would be criminal for no child to ever know that man as a father.

Adoption, he thinks, leaning back on his hands and kicking his heels, humming a little to the neon-sickly sky. Put a child who needs someone in front of him and he'd do anything, wouldn't he? He'll want to adopt. One day. Eventually. When we know where we stand and we're older and we can cope, not now, we're practically kids ourselves and this - this is still too big for us, but if those other supers get up to speed, if more supers come along, if we can actually take some time to ourselves to look at our lives and decide . . . how could he not want a kid? He loves kids. And they love him, and he would do anything for his kid (No-one is going to hurt you.) and he would just be the most amazing parent and . . .

"Boo," a voice says fondly behind him, and a hand touches his hair, the Ghost sits with a sigh on the edge of the building next to him. "God, that was a trek."

"Is he okay?"

"Yes. I think so. He promised he wouldn't do it again, I told him all he has to do is be sensible and stay safe. He shouldn't not be a kid, I just . . ." He presses his lips together, stares at the skyline. "I just want him to be safe."

Phalanx reaches across and takes his hand. "Were there posters?"

"Oh my god. There were action figures, he'd practically built a shrine. Luckily I've come to find that sort of thing sort of cute, so." He swings Phalanx's hand, and grins. "How was your evening?"

"Same old. I got some incredibly inventive swearing from one guy getting arrested, it was almost poetry."

The Ghost smiles a little, and lifts a hand to yawn into the back of his glove. "Half an hour . . . ? Or call it a night now?"

Phalanx tugs his hand a little. "Hey."

"Hey, what?"

"That girl on the subway - and those kids earlier, and then him -"

"What?" the Ghost says, and yawns again, squeezing his eyes closed as he does.

Phalanx presses his hand. "You're amazing with kids, you know that?"

The yawn seems to catch his breath; his chest spasms. And then he lowers his hand but he doesn't look at Phalanx, looks at the skyline and wets his lips and says, "Maybe we should take the slow route back, patrol the way home."

Okay, so he's not ready to talk about it. He knows exactly what Phalanx actually meant by that and he's deflecting, he's not okay discussing it now, but that's okay. It's fine. They have years. They have years and years of this to work through, years to get themselves together, years for Phalanx to convince him that it's okay for him to take something for himself, to want something for himself, it's okay for him to have a family when family means to him what Phalanx knows it does. He holds his hand and says, "Sure." and helps him up, and the Ghost turns away from him, doesn't look at his face. Phalanx touches his back through the cloak.

It's okay. It is okay. We'll get there, one day.

I never mind taking the slow route with you.


He dreams they've got a bunch of kids they've brought on patrol with them, he's worried and frustrated the whole dream trying to keep the rabble together while they fight crime, trying to keep them out of the chaos when the brawls start. The Ghost has a baby in one of those pouches slung to his chest like his shoulder belt and he's in a really sour mood. I told you this was a bad idea.

Dreams are weird.

Kurt's already in the shower when he wakes up, so he goes through to put coffee on, yawning, not really looking forward to Wednesday, he's not really good at Wednesdays, he knows they have to head to that team tomorrow night and it feels like they need to do far too much on a Wednesday night to make leaving New York for an evening okay. Plus Paul makes an agonising amount of 'hump day' jokes. Like seriously. Lay face-down on your desk and pray for a quick end agonising. Blaine knows he mostly does it because he knows it drives Blaine crazy and why, why is that a reason - ?

Cooper comes out of his room singing, loudly, "Oh what a beautiful mooor-ning - good morning Blaine! Did you sleep well?"

Five whole luxurious hours. "Did you? Do you want coffee?"

"It'll stunt your growth, you know."

"I think that ship sailed, Cooper. But, you know, it's fine, I'll just make it for me and Kurt. You have a lovely day. A lovely, coffee-free day."

Cooper sits on a breakfast bar stool. "Don't be like that. Sometimes I think your boyfriend likes me better than you do."

"My boyfriend doesn't have to live with you," Blaine says evenly, tapping the spoon to dislodge the last crumbs of coffee and closing the machine, snapping it on. "Why're you up so early?"

"I'm, you know, I'm just, hi Kurt!" as Kurt peeks slowly out from Blaine's room, eyes falling on Cooper and smile twitching automatically on. "Come on out, Blaine's making coffee!"

Blaine opens his mouth, hesitates, says, "Is this about that review?"

"Don't you have coffee to make? Kurt, come sit here -" Theatrically dusting off the stool next to his as Kurt creeps over, doing the Cooper-stare - he blinks less, like he doesn't want to miss anything - "and let's talk about getting you and your roommate complementary tickets to my show this week! How'd you guys like front row seats?"

Kurt puts a hand over his mouth for a second, gulps a breath in and says, "Oh my god."

Blaine clatters mugs around, mutters, "What, should I just wait outside and hold their coats?"

"Hm? That'd be great, Blaine. So how about you tell me all your favourite parts of my show again so I can do them extra well when you -"

"My boyfriend is not your ego-boosting device when you get a bad review!"

"Blaine, I notice we still don't have cups of coffee here, maybe you should get on that!"

Kurt's eyes flit between them and he stays silent, neither wanting to jeopardise free tickets nor an imminent cup of coffee.

"If you like my boyfriend so much then maybe you should get one of your own!"

"Why are you so hostile about me getting along with your boyfriend? Anyone would think you felt threatened or something, but then I am very attractive and talented and-"

"Cooper in all seriousness start dating you are driving me-"

Kurt nervously turns a spoon in his fingers. "Should I - wait outside?"

"No!" they both shout, then stop and glare at each other.

"He's my boyfriend -"

"It's my kitchen."

"You don't even need to be up at this time!"

"I've decided to become a morning person!"

Kurt gives a little choked -

Blaine glances over, doesn't really see what happens; the spoon pings off the counter and then clatters to the floor, that's all. Kurt doesn't reach down for it immediately. For that first second, he just sits there going pale.

Blaine doesn't understand. It's only a spoon.

Then Kurt takes a breath and pushes out from the breakfast bar, leans down and picks it up from the floor. "Never any good," he whispers, voice hushed dry, "before the first cup of coffee."

Blaine looks back at the machine, and takes the first cup of coffee for Kurt since he clearly needs it. Sugar and cream, same as the first cup of coffee he ever had in this kitchen, and Cooper says, "It's fine, rom coms have taught us that klutziness is cute, you should cultivate it!"

Kurt stares at the spoon, and turns it in his fingers as Blaine pushes a cup of coffee across at him. Kurt then stares at the coffee, like it might do something terrible and unexpected.

Maybe Kurt really doesn't want to be the ping-pong ball in his and Cooper's arguments. God knows he gets enough stress on a night, he can hardly want to wake up to this kind of crap too. Blaine touches his hand, just for a second, catching his eyes with a small sorry smile, and Kurt stares at him, then looks down at the spoon, and puts it firmly on the breakfast bar.

Cooper says, "Three tickets. Guys, I could use the moral support . . ."

Blaine turns back to the machine, and pours Cooper the next cup. "It was one bad review, Cooper, he's only one guy. You have hundreds of -" He puts a hand on Kurt's arm, puts the cup in front of Cooper. "- adoring fans. I need to go get a shower, you two . . ."

Kurt's smile twitches faint at him. "We'll be fine. Thank you, Blaine."

Blaine kisses him, catching the corner of his mouth, runs his hand down his arm and heads through into his room again as Cooper says, "So what are you working on right now? Would I look good in it?"

"Oh, you look good in everything," Kurt gushes, and Blaine rolls his eyes, and closes his bedroom door behind himself.


I don't care if it wasn't iBorg in the suit, it's still his fault the Ghost got hurt, FUCK iBorg.

Sometimes I think Ghost fans are a bit crazy but then I remmeber Phalanx fans and I think actually we're quite sane and stable :/

You know what after *that* kind of crap you'd think us turning on each other all the time would get put into some sort of perspective, LOL NOPE

They're still not saying how the suit got 'compromised' but speculation is the guy in the wheelchair on that rooftop is the usual pilot? Phalanx did seem to be asking for his help . . .

ohhhh boy the nutcase media stuff on the 'reemerged super threat' after that big super fight is just *exhausting* and I'm not even a super having to deal with it

*Technically* the threat came from an ordinary person wearing a super-suit, *not* an actual super, it was supers who *saved* us. I mean, really we should be arguing for weapon technology control, not control of supers? Yeah? Ok no then ¬_¬

(Ghostly, you online?)

(For my sins. Fandom makes me want to weep right now.)

(Are you ok? Barely seen you online recently, is everything ok?)

Fic: Right Through You, Ghostlanx, R, H/C: He says he's fine, but Phalanx always knows.

For every reblog of this in the next ten minutes Sociallyspooky has to do a shot, and just to make sure there's plenty of reblogs, lots of gifs of butts! <3

Butts butts butts mmmm

(Nothing much changes.)

(Have you seen bb recently? It doesn't look like she's been online in days.)

(She's allowed to be busy offline, Draxie.)

(I guess, it's just, I always worry when she's not online for a while :/ )

(I know you do. You're not actually her mother, you know.)

(I just worry, that's all.)

(I mean, you even call her 'bb', sometimes I think you're not aware that you haven't *actually* adopted her . . .)

(How're you, Ghostly? How's your mom doing?)

(Not well.)

(Oh god, I'm so sorry, is that why you haven't been online much? I'm sorry Ghostly :( Is there anything I can do?)

(There's nothing that anyone can do. Such is life.)

Will people STOP REBLOGGING THAT SCREAM I mean just that it *happened* makes me want to vomit I can't cope with it coming around again and again and again

Blackbindings' last piece should really have inspired more phandom poetry, like:
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
#1 is obviously dat ass

I saw the greatest minds of my generation drool over lycra-clad superheroes on the internet, screaming hysterical weeping
dragging themselves through the batshit blogs all night looking for a keysmashing fix

Roses are red
Violets are blue
You have a PERFECT ass
Fuck, so do you!
cuz i am like literate and stuff? <3

(Do you want to talk about anything? I know you don't want to complain but you know I'm here if you ever need anything.)

(My dearest, I have almost nothing to complain about that isn't definitely my fault anyway. Congratulations on your new job, Draxie. You always have deserved it.)

(Thank you <3 The weirdest thing is having a full time job means I have *more free time* since I'm not hauling myself around three stupid little jobs all the time, I have a Victoriana!verse chapter brewing! :D )

(Enjoy, my dear. Goodnight.)

(Take care, Ghostly, good luck with your mom <3)

so drnuk hate my girlfriend so drunk hATE MY GIRLFRIEND

I love you tooooo <3

For every reblog this gets in the nex ten minutes Shieldbearingsoldier has to drink a shot: the noze-nuzzling on a bridge edition. MWAHAHAHAHAHAH

ho *shit*

Reblog if you’ve ever been rescued by the Ghost. Let Figgins know what an assbutt he’s being. We love you, spooky <3
Reblog if you've ever been rescued by Phalanx. (let the new guy get a look in!)
Reblog if you've ever been rescued by the most courteous gay supercouple in New York, and fuck the right wing media asshats. SUPERBOYFRIENDS ARE SUPER
Reblog if you got rescued by supers, 'cause people being bigots to them never made them treat us the same way - *thank you*, people with powers!
Thank you for everything, I'm so sorry I was so stupid, thank you so much, I'll never forget what you did for me and I'm going to make sure I use my life to help other people because I know that's what you do, you're just perfect, thank you xxxx

Crap I think we're going to run out of alcohol


If I ever meet iborg, I don't even care that it'll hurt me more than him, I am *so* smacking him one.

The Ghost has been seen out since and he seems fine <3

Brave, brave bb <3 Glad Phalanx is ok too, nearly choked myself on my own tongue when we went over the edge of that building 0_0

They are far too young and pretty to die

If prettiness is actually what swings it they'll live forEVER

imagine them just like snuggling for actually *ever*

ack ack acksklsdfrguuuuuuuuuuuuuusj,CAN'T


does anyone know how old puckzilla is is he like older than the ghost?

Ghostlanx: a haiku
pretty pretty so
pretty pretty pretty just
so fucking pretty

It's really amazing the amount that I actually just can't.

Part 16

Current Mood: Little bit drunk actually
Current Music: The Decemberists - Clementine
Lizzielsugaralmond on July 12th, 2013 09:24 pm (UTC)
So everytime Kurt has involuntarily ghosted it's been in the aftermath of Blaine bringing up kids... Hmmm... This will be interesting to watch play out.

Another splendid chapter. I love just getting to read about them doing their super hero thing. Just the relatively normal nights in New York. I never get tired of it. And bonus Cooper at the end! You write him wonderfully. I can see Matt Bomer delivering those lines so perfectly in my head.
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:09 pm (UTC)
Oh look, patterns ^^ This will be interesting to watch, I'm sure (interesting like a car crash ^^;).

The relatively normal nights are some of my favourite bits to write, they're kind of at their *happiest* then which is weird ^^; And Cooper! I love Cooper so so so much. I'd probably even watch the show again if he came back, ahem ^^;

Thank you for reading, a while back now honey - I hope you're well, and thanks again <3
Laura Healylittlepinklola on July 12th, 2013 10:02 pm (UTC)
OMG AMAZING,the playing with the children was just so fluffy and adorable.I love how you mix those sweet moments with the Miscommuncation between these boys,b wants kids and kurt not over what they are(super heros) and when there out helping people.I am worried about Kurt and his fading when holding things.

Edited at 2013-07-12 10:03 pm (UTC)
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:10 pm (UTC)
They lend themselves to cute very well <3 I'm glad you enjoyed it despite the angst honey, and thank you for reading it - hope you're doing well <3
chuchootrain122chuchootrain122 on July 13th, 2013 01:04 am (UTC)
omg, ghostlanx playing with kids--I teared up and my heart swelled to ten times its usual size. Ghost braiding the little girl's hair and Phalanx hanging the little boy upside down is just.. waaaah. *_____* SO PRECIOUS~~

Still side eyeing Blaine. wtf dude. Way to take Kurt's 'no' to mean 'not now.' Can someone just smack his adorable gelmetted head? Does he not see what he's doing to Kurt? *grumpy face*
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:11 pm (UTC)
Their very different methods of bonding with children, ahem ^^; But, yeah, Blaine's ability to actually grasp what other people are saying: not always so much no -_-; But thank you for reading honey, and I hope you've been well - thank you <3
The Talking Malibu Stacey Dollspecialj67 on July 13th, 2013 01:06 am (UTC)
Kurt's crush on Cooper will never not be adorable. Same with Blaine's exasperation.
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:13 pm (UTC)
Oh Kurt and Cooper, I just want to put you in a room together and watch you absolutely love being stuck in a room together and giggle, very quietly, to myself <3

Thank you for reading, honey, and I hope you've been well <3
perry_avenueperry_avenue on July 13th, 2013 03:18 am (UTC)
This chapter was just wonderful. We see those touching moments with the Ghost, Carol and the children at the homeless shelter, the girl in the subway car, and the boy rescued from the assault. They all love him. I also loved you having Ghostlanx make this year’s TIME 100 Most influential list! But Kurt and Blaine are as far apart as ever about what they want in their future lives, and Kurt is involuntarily ghosting objects through his hand again, and I’m worried about what has to happen before they finally talk about things. It killed me that Blaine brought up children again and Kurt was so gutted by it he couldn’t even look at him, and Blaine completely misread his body language.

Edited at 2013-07-13 03:29 am (UTC)
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:15 pm (UTC)
Chris Colfer in all guises deserves utterly to be on that list <3 And little moments of cute and happy endings for people really help *me* get through all the angst, I don't know about you guys ^^;

Thank you for reading, honey, and I hope you've been well - thank you <3
(Anonymous) on July 13th, 2013 07:10 am (UTC)
Mr. Colfer
So this is really random, but I'm curious, in your head with the fandom bits, is it one of the OCs' dash, or the ghostlanx tag? Idk I always think about pointless things like that heh. And oh still no update on bb and Ghostly, I guess we'll just have to wait. :(

Oh, if you could see my face at some points during this chapter! There's always several lines in each chapter that make me stop and clap a hand over my mouth to quit from yelping out some kind of emotion, but this one had LOTS. The kids, Blaine being clueless, the kid they rescued. The idea of Kurt trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he has fanboys/girls, although that's kind of old news. But omyghod figurines, does that mean there are figurines of (*technically*) Kurt Hummel in this universe? Even if they are the Ghost, that is the best thing I have /ever/ heard in my life. ;___;

Kurt ghosting through objects again though ugh. I saw someone else in the reviews theorizing that it might have to do with Blaine bringing up children, considering it seems like every time he's ghosted through objects it was after mentions of it, and honestly that seems likely, which is sad. I don't know how that whole problem's gonna' get settled, but hopefully some time soon or Kurt's just gonna' break down one day, poor thing. Bless Blaine's heart, he *means* well, but he should really let it go. And if must bring it up again, don't for like, another good 10 to 15 years lol.

Thanks so much for the update!! :)
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:21 pm (UTC)
Re: Mr. Colfer
The fandom bits are just kind of bits of anything from all over the fandom, in my head - I'm not very tumblr-savvy so maybe stuff from the tag, or random blogs? Just, little slices of whatever crazy is currently going on . . .

I'm imagining that given the number of fans superheroes have, illegal or no people are going to be making posters/action figures/the infamous plushes, so yeah, there'll be 'Kurt' figures ^^ Though given that the Ghost doesn't exactly hang around posing for the cameras, god knows how *accurate* they'll be, ahem.

Kurt's ghosting, well, it has its triggers, but the reasons . . . I'll let you guys work that one out, anyway ;) Thank you for reading, honey, and I hope you've been well on this really weird week - thank you for reading, very much <3
Sorry we said fuck so much: I've been looking for you forever20thcenturyvole on July 13th, 2013 08:09 am (UTC)
Gaaahhh, their continuing miscommunication over the kids issue absolutely guts me. I mean, it's such a big deal, and it causes Kurt so much anxiety that it makes his freaking superpowers malfunction, while Blaine is still completely oblivious to how Kurt really feels. UGH I JUST WANT THEM TO UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER.

Ghostly and Blackbindings... ooh, what is going on there? ):
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:23 pm (UTC)
It really is a big deal, and, yeah, it would be really nice if they just understood each other ;_; Because really that should be about a five line conversation and all taken care of, but people are difficult, and stubborn boys very much so -_-;

Ghostly and Blackbindings, we shall see <3 And thank you for reading, honey - I hope you've been well, I know it's been a fucked up week. Thank you, and take care <3
Flossflosspyromaniac on July 13th, 2013 11:23 am (UTC)
Oh lovely. I do adore the fallout, the reality where they have to *deal* with everything and you do it so well. Loved Carol. Poor boys, those conversations needs to actually *happen* but people never are very good at that, are they? There were so many lovely touches in the this, with the work colleagues and Cooper and the kids and the spoon. I really, really enjoyed it.

Sounds like you've been having a pretty amazing time of it as well, long may it continue. I just hope you're not melting quite a much as I am.
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:26 pm (UTC)
All I seem to do is fallout, sometimes I wonder how the characters get around to doing anything to have fallout from they're so busy with the fallout ;) They seriously do need to talk but *god* they are weird about talking, sometimes they're all word-vomity about their feelings and sometimes they just clam up. Silly boys.

The weather is insane and can it stop now. I'm from Yorkshire. I'm not constituted for this. Luckily I haven't burned yet because I'm actually so pale I reflect sunlight . . . ? Hope you're keeping cool, honey, and life's being kind, and you're okay after what has been a fucking awful week - take care, and thank you for reading, thank you <3
Beth: Glee: Klaine Whitebrighton_girl on July 13th, 2013 04:08 pm (UTC)
So well written,I loved the focus on Ghost and Phalanx and Kurt and Blaine this chapter. Loved that Ghost sees how he affects people and how important that is...really well done.
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:27 pm (UTC)
I'm really glad you enjoyed it honey <3 I hope you've been doing well, and thank you for reading it - thank you <3
itallstartedhp on July 13th, 2013 06:26 pm (UTC)
so for some horrific reason I discovered I was about 4 chapters behind, and bless my soul I just read through all of them this morning and I just...I honestly think the fandom owes you something for your writing, because this honestly keeps getting better and better. Some stuff from a bit back but Jesse's power was *terrifying* and seeing how it hurt the boys so much just showed how fragile even the strongest things can be. And the super-battle was crazy in intensity. I bet it was really humbling for the other supers to see how little they know and understand about what the Ghost and Phalanx deal with all the time. And your description of the fight on the rooftop just gave me chills. The fact that the team is actively planning the ability to take down the Ghost and Phalanx is terrifying. I'm so so glad they have each other they can trust. But I'm glad they're not naive enough to follow the group blindly. And the issue of Ghost/Kurt's solidity continues to terrify me, along with Blaine's dream of having children. The scene with them with the kids absolutely warmed my heart, I don't blame Blaine in the slightest. Amazing job as usual my darling. This fic is a gift.
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:30 pm (UTC)
Welcome to current 'canon' =) Really I could've given lots of the characters Jesse's power - so many of them are performers, so the idea of 'making people feel things' fits - but it *is* a scary power, if it's abused, an awful one. And the others supers seriously did need a clue on what they're actually involved in, because I don't think any of them grasped why those two *are* so serious ^^;

I'm glad you've enjoyed it honey, and thank you for reading it - I hope you've been well this week, I know it's been an awful one generally; thank you for reading, and take care <3
ruler of the grand illusionkarmaqueen on July 13th, 2013 07:57 pm (UTC)
Yay for a relatively fluffy chapter! Yay for autographs! Yay for Mercedes! Yay for Kurt losing control of his powers again (hee :P)!

A lovely reminder that you don't need superpowers to be a superhero. And the never-ending web of love and friendships surrounding ghostlanx is all just so very sweet.

(Hope your move goes splendidly! ♥)
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:31 pm (UTC)
This is what counts as 'relatively fluffy', and here I don't think of myself as an angst writer ^^; But yeah, the 'ordinary' people without whom the supers couldn't do a thing - we are all so very powerful, when it comes to it <3

I'm glad you enjoyed it honey, and thank you for reading it - I hope you've been well, I know it's been a bad week. Thank you for reading, and take care <3
long shadows and gunpowder eyes: nekoabby20 on July 13th, 2013 08:26 pm (UTC)
I'm going to try not to make this inappropriately rambly, but basically I'm pretty new to Glee fandom (hooray/poor me), and I've spent the last few weeks mainlining every single thing you've written. One thing I love about new fandoms is finding great writers within them, and finding your stuff was (forgive me) totally the "oh, there you are" moment of Klaine fic for me. Because you just get them -- no matter what universe, Kurt is Kurt and Blaine is Blaine, with all of their particular weaknesses and strengths and humour and their unique KurtandBlaine-ness and and and. The universes are so intricate and well-drawn, you write beautifully with clever metaphors and lovely turns of phrase and I laugh, I cry, I flail, I fall even more in love with those dumb boys; it's good times all around.

And the fact that you have referenced Joni Mitchell, The Decemberists, Anne Carson (!!!!), etc. . . . yeah, I do a lot of flailing.

Anyway, I'm leaving this here because I particularly love this world and this version of Kurt and Blaine, and I shriek a little every time there's a new chapter. You are amazing and may you never stop writing.

Okay. Failure to avoid rambling complete. :)
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:35 pm (UTC)
Hello, sorry for the delayed reply, obviously this week in this fandom was really, really not 'normal' =/

Anyway, I'm really glad you've been enjoying the fic ^^ And I know Anne Carson right omg I can't even say I 'like' her poetry because that word just can't cover what she does to me, I come out of reading her feeling a bit . . . submerged? Weirdly waterlogged (wordlogged ^^;), that *woman* . . . <3

And can you tell I'm particularly attached to this world too ;) I really am glad you've enjoyed the fic honey, thank you for reading it all (I know there's a hell of a lot of it o_0) - and I hope you've been okay, given it's been a very bad week. Thank you for reading, and take care <3
nannaxnannax on July 13th, 2013 09:27 pm (UTC)
Aaaaah this chapter was perfection <333 so so so sweeeet (and sad and funny at times):3 I love reading about these two with children they'll make perfect superdaddies one day I'm sure *U*
The last part made me a little anxious though :-S I can't wait to see where the ghosting thing is headed.. nothing good I presume :(
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:36 pm (UTC)
We always need a bit of fluff or else I lose all will to live-slash-write ^^; I'm glad you enjoyed it, honey, and thank you for reading it - and I hope you've been well, given the week, take care <3
heart_to_wordsheart_to_words on July 14th, 2013 08:18 am (UTC)
I loved this chapter! You know how to let us relax after a whole bunch of crazy while still keeping us on the edge of our seats. Ghostlanx with kids is so freaking sweet I need to see a dentist. But the teen from the suburbs, the parallel to Kurt and conviction of the Ghost's protectiveness - gosh, you're wonderful in the sneakiest, meanest way (or is it sneaky and mean in the most wonderful way? Either way I love it.). And their precious snark, Blaine and Rachel shushing Kurt with his sassy eye-rolling... And YAY COOPER'S BACK! I love their rapport so very much... Though oh lord though the fandom, Ghostly and Blackbindings seem such a mess I'm dying for more of their story!

(I really hope this made sense it's super late and a bit crazy of an evening I scrambled to read your update as soon as I found it. But basically just another fabulous chapter I can't wait for more!)
Rainjoy's writings: <3rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:38 pm (UTC)
Kurt and sass is still one of my OTPs. I know he's a lot more emotionally battered and restrained in this universe than canon, he still knows how to bring the snark when he's in a particularly bad mood . . .

I'm really glad you enjoyed the little puddles of fluff in the chapter, honey <3 And some of the darker parts, and FUCK YES COOPER \o/ too ^^ Thank you for reading it, and I hope you've been well, given the week - thank you, and take care, honey <3
hazyv on July 15th, 2013 08:58 am (UTC)
I saw this update just before I heard about Cory, and just couldn't bring myself to read it straight away. However, I've read it now, and can honestly say that it's helped me feel better, so thank you Rainjoy. I love how you're dealing with the kid issue - Blaine is still so convinced that Kurt is going to come around. I just worry that it's going to blow up in his face. Although, Kurt/Ghost was just adorable with the kids at the centre. And it was nice to see Cooper back. I can't believe he's still so oblivious to the boys!
Rainjoy's writings: kurt!rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:41 pm (UTC)
I know, it's been a really weird week for fic =/ But I am really honestly so glad if this helped at all, honey - these are difficult times and I know this isn't exactly an easy fic, but I think some kinds of distraction are good? I hope so, anyway <3

Cooper \o/ No, he is completely clueless, isn't he? But then he notices very little that doesn't directly involve him, so ^^; I'm glad you've enjoyed the fic honey, and thank you for reading it - I hope you're doing well, take care <3
stillsnowing on July 17th, 2013 12:27 pm (UTC)
I`m sorry i`m super late commenting this chapter but with all that`s happened lately i couldn`t just bring myself to do it before. Anyway, i don`t really have that much to say-it`s perfect, as always. The part at the women shelter made me tear up, they`re so *good* with kids, and so sweet, i just can`t. And the part after that with that kid was beautiful, too. I`m kinda scared by Kurt that keeps ghosting through things (or things ghost through him? Idk man), i just hope everything turns out fine :)
Hope you`re well honey, thank you for this, take care <3
Rainjoy's writings: kurt!rainjoyswriting on July 19th, 2013 05:42 pm (UTC)
I know, it's been a fucked up week for anything to do with fanfic, seriously =/ But I'm glad if you enjoyed the chapter, honey, including the little bits of fluff (god knows we need the little moments of fluff <3) - thank you for reading it, and I hope you're doing well, honey - thank you, and look after yourself <3