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luxaofhesperides · 5 months

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For the ghostlights drabbles: “Say my name” with a favor being called in?

Duke had saved Phantom years ago, back when he was just out of high school and working to take down a branch of the government that was kidnapping and experimenting on people, targeting magic users and metas. Phantom had been working on his own to take them down, and they met in the middle, trashing a lab and freeing as many people as they could.

They had managed to shoot his back, knocking him down and making him bleed a glowing green. Phantom couldn’t move, protecting two kids with his body, and Duke couldn’t reach them in time before they were taken away by another swarm of agents.

He was able to go after them in time, free Phantom and the kids, and evacuated the victims before Phantom rained hell down on the facility.

At the end, standing in the background as they watched paramedics treat the victims and take them towards the nearest hospitals, Phantom had turned towards him and thanked him.

Or rather, he thanked the Signal and offered him a bracelet with a rounded orb of ice, glowing faintly in the dark. If you ever need me, he had said, Hold this, and call me name.

Phantom vanished once the last of the victims were transported to a safer location, and Duke hadn’t seen him since.

He’s kept up with news about Phantom as best he can, but from what he could tell, Phantom is based primarily in Amity Park, Illinois, and the town is fiercely protective of their hero. News rarely leaks out of there, and with them running on their own servers and independent internet, it was nearly impossible to get in from the outside.

Phantom remained a curious and distant figure in Duke’s life. He holds onto the bracelet still, guarding it carefully and sometimes running his fingers over the ice that never melts.

But he doesn’t call in that favor. He’s never to.

At least, not until now.

Sucking in a breath, Duke prepares himself and holds the orb of ice in the palm of his hand. He’s in civies, unable to hide his identity for this, and closes his eyes. “Phantom,” he says.

For a moment, nothing happens. Duke blinks his eyes open and frowns, mind already forming new plans to contact Phantom. Then the ice goes bitingly cold, almost painful, and the temperature in the room drops dramatically. The ice lifts up from his hand, floating in the air, then cracks open.

White-blue light spills out of it, growing brighter as it seems to swallow up the room entirely. Duke hurries to back up, an arm thrown up to protect his eyes. His breath mists out before him and he shivers as the sound of ice cracking fills the room.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the light disappears and the cold fades away like a bad dream.

Slowly, Duke lowers his arm and looks up at Phantom, floating in the middle of his living room with a crown made of ice, engulfed in blue fire, hovers above his head. He looks older, more regal, holding his head high.

He regards Duke carefully for a minute, then tilts his head and says, “Signal?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Man, I’m so glad you came.”

“You… need help with something? You’re calling in your favor now, right?”

Duke nods. He understands Phantom’s confusion; being in the hero business means that favors like these tend to be used only during the most hopeless of times, when the world is close to ending, when the chances of getting out of a situation alive is close to impossible. It’s exactly the kind of thing Duke was expecting to call Phantom in for.

Not the kid sleeping on his couch.

“You’re a ghost, yeah?”

Phantom blinks at him. “Ghost king, now. Why?”

“Well…” Duke rubs the back of his neck, nervously. “I didn’t really know who else to call, and I can’t do this on my own since I’m not a ghost. But this kid got attached to me and won’t leave, so now I’m taking care of her and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know why you think I have any experience with kids but—”

“She’s a ghost.”

Phantom stops short. “Ah. I see.” He floats down until his feet touch the floor, and then he’s standing like any other person. “Where…?”

Duke looks past Phantom’s shoulder, and Phantom turns to follow his gaze. Chelsea, the ghost girl, looks to be around nine years old and is fast asleep on the couch, curled up under Duke’s softest blanket.

“Signal,” Phantom says quietly, “What, exactly, is the favor you need from me?”

“You can say no,” Duke starts. “I get that this is a lot. But I need help raising her. And since you’re a ghost, I figured you could help me learn about the ghostly side of things. You don’t have to raise her with me or anything! Just… I would appreciate any help you’re willing to give me.”

Phantom doesn’t say no. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at Chelsea, an unreadable expression on his face.

On the couch. Chelsea shifts in her sleep, brows furrowing as she makes a choked noise in the back of her throat.

Moving on autopilot after so many nights of this routine, Duke kneels next to the couch, fishing one of her hands from beneath the blanket. He gives it a few reassuring squeezes, keeping it a slow rhythm to pull her gently from her nightmare. She settles down in just a minute, brow smoothing out as she continues to sleep.

The silence grows and Duke is all too aware that his heart is the only one beating.

He doesn’t hear Phantom move. Doesn’t realize he’s right next to him until he sees Phantom’s hand reach out towards Chelsea. When Duke looks, Phantom is sitting on the floor next to Duke, looking at Chelsea with something soft and devastated in his eyes. His hand hovers about her head for a long moment, then slowly lowers to rest on her head.

The touch looks gently, barely putting any pressure on her head, but it’s enough to make Chelsea’s eyes snap open, suddenly wide awake. She stares at Phantom with wide eyes, then sits up and looks between him and Duke.

“Who are you?” she asks in a small voice that makes Duke want to stand against the world to keep her safe.

Phantom smiles. It’s casual and charming and makes him look like anyone else, as if he’s not a powerful king from a realm unreachable to humans. “Hi there,” he says, “I’m Danny. I’m a ghost like you. Signal called me and asked me to meet you.”

The Ghost King is good with kids. Who would have thought?

Chelsea looks at him for confirmation and only relaxes when he nods. “I’m Chelsea. What do you mean ghost? I’m not dead.”

Both he and Phantom tense, carefully keeping their expressions neutral. She hasn’t told him much at all, just that her parents were gone and forgot her and she got hurt, so she wanted to stay with ‘Mr. Signal’ because he’s a hero and heroes keep people safe and he was the only one who was Black like her. Duke hadn’t had the heart to say no, and began searching for her family, only to find that her parents had fled the state, and likely the country, after killing their only child through neglect and a dangerous environment.

It was then that he realized that her powers were not because she was a meta, but because she was ghost.

It still hurts to realize how young she is, how much of her life had been stolen from her in an instant. Duke hadn’t been brave enough to broach the topic with her, instead choosing to let her grow comfortable in his presence, get them both settled into a routine now that he was her primary guardian.

“I know it sounds scary,” Phantom says, “And you may not want to believe me, but it’s true. I’m sorry that you died so young, but that just means you get to hang out with me and other ghosts from now on!”

Chelsea crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “I am not dead,” she says.

“Cici, I’m sorry to say this, but you are,” Duke cuts in. “That’s why I called… Danny. You have new powers as a ghost, and he can help you get used to them.”

“I’m not dead!” she says again.

“Kid,” Phantom begins, but Chelsea shakes her head hard and hops off the couch.

“I’m not lying! Watch, I’ll prove it to you!” She closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose, concentrating. Her hands curl into tight fists by her sides, and the glow around her grows dim. Two faint, stuttering rings of light appear around her waist. They flicker and wobble in the air, as if weak and uncertain of their own existence, then split apart, one moving up towards her head while the other falls to her feet.

Beside him, Phantom sucks in a sharp breath, but Duke can’t turn to see what’s wrong when he’s trying to take in the sight of Chelsea suddenly full of vibrant color, looking more solid that he’s ever seen her, very much alive.

“See?” she says proudly, lifting her arms and doing a spin to show off her right she was. “I told you I’m not dead!”

“No, you’re not,” Phantom agrees, sounding shell-shocked. When Duke is finally able to look away from Chelsea to check on him, he looks awed. There’s the smallest smile on his face, just the slightest upturn of his lips, but it makes him look softer.

Duke turns his attention back to Chelsea before he can be caught staring. “Cici, can you come here for a second?”

She goes before he’s finished speaking, crossing the space between them in a single jump, then grins up at him. Her hair is a bit of a mess, the two buns he managed to get her hair into falling askew. He makes a note to visit the old aunties in the Narrows later to ask them to teach him how to do hair. For now, he holds out a hand and Chelsea drops an arm into it.

It seems to good to be true, having her be alive, but her pulse is steady and strong when he presses his thumb against the inside of her wrist.

“Well,” he says, leaning back and letting go of her arm. “You certainly proved us wrong.”

Chelsea doesn’t have much time to look smug before PHantom quietly says, “You’re like me.”

“What?”

“You’re like me,” he tells Chelsea. “A halfa.”

She tilts her head to one side. “What’s that?”

“Someone who is half human and half ghost. Both dead and alive.”

Duke blinks, taking in the words, then turns to face Phantom so quickly he’s worried he might give himself whiplash. Halfa, he said. Like me, he said.

And sure enough, two rings of light, bright and strong, appear around Phantom’s waist before splitting in half, moving over his entire body.

Gone is the Ghost King, all powerful and adorned in dark clothing with a crown of ice above his head. In his place is a guy who looks to be Duke’s age, eyes a deep blue and his black hair messy, feet set solidly on the floor. He looks completely normal, completely human, and no longer an impossibility.

“You still up for learning how to use all your new powers?” Phantom asks.

Chelsea grins. “Yeah!” And then, with a quick flick of her eyes going from Phantom to Duke that he almost misses, very innocently asks, “Are you going to stay with us then?”

“I… don’t know?” Phantom looks to Duke for an answer.

Already, Duke can see this going two ways. The correct way forward, the normal one, has Phantom popping in every so often, taking Chelsea out for a few hours to work on training her and her powers. It’s easy and routine and they can keep their boundaries uncrossed and be professional.

The other path is what Duke wants most that he shouldn’t impose onto the literal Ghost King. He could have Phantom living with them while he’s on Earth and out of Amity Park, having a place at the table, a section in the closet for his own clothes, a quietly domestic night together while Chelsea sleeps where they can get to know each other more, get to know each other outside of news reports and texts on a screen.

“You can stay with us if you want,” Duke offers, casually, “It might keep my apartment safe from her powers acting up on their own again.”

“Are you sure? I could always just fly in on the weekends or something.”

“I’d appreciate having you around. So you can help Cici.”

“If you don’t mind,” Phantom says, looking away. Like this, fully alive with a beating heart, it’s easy to see the blush steal away across his cheeks.

“I don’t.”

“I don’t either!” Chelsea pops in, looking far too gleeful by their awkward conversation.

Duke can’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than he had in ages. The relief of knowing that Chelsea is alive, for the most part at least, eases the guilt of thinking he had been too late to save her, that there was no chance she could have made it out and had a future, makes him feel weak. All the exhaustion of the past few weeks hits him all at once and he wants nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep for twelve hours.

“Alright, squirt,” he says, reaching out to pat her head. “It’s late. We can talk more in the morning, so go to bed. In your actual bed this time, not on the couch.”

Chelsea stands up taller, ready to argue, but Duke gives her a Look™ and she quickly shuts her mouth, nods, and drags her feet back to her room (the former guestroom he can never give any of the other Waynes ever again, once they find out about her).

Sighing, Duke collapses onto the couch once he hears the door shut behind her. Phantom joins him after a few seconds, sitting tentatively on the edge of the couch. The cushion moves beneath his weight, another reminder of how solid and alive he is right not.

Duke wants to touch him, to reach out and feel for himself his pulse, the warmth of his body, his chest lifting with each breath.

He doesn’t move. He stays where he is, hands carefully still, and tries to think past the dizzying thoughts of she’s still alive, I’m not too late, he’s still here, he’s alive.

“Rough week?” Phantom asks, voice purposefully light.

“Something like that.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can. Not after everything. My mind’s too loud right now.”

Phantom shifts closer to him, hesitant in a way that Duke has never seen before in him, and asks, “Want me to stay with you until you mind quiets down some?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks, Phantom.”

“You know, if I’m going to be around so often as Chelsea’s halfa mentor, then you might as well call me Danny.”

Truth be told, Duke didn’t think that was his real name. He’s glad to know it’s not.

“Then call me Duke.”

“...Are you sure? You could still hide your identity from me.”

“Nah, I trust you. A name for a name, yeah?”

Danny smiles. “Duke,” he says, testing out the name, and it’s never sounded better than when it falls from Danny’s mouth.

“Danny,” Duke returns. He belatedly realizes that they’ve leaned towards each other, drawn together like gravity, stuck in each other’s orbit. It feels natural. It feels like this is where they’re meant to be.

Maybe he should be more cautious. They’ve only meant once before, after all. But he’s read all he could on Phantom and has seen how Amity Park loves him. He’s stressed and exhausted and trying to figure out how to look after a half-ghost child that’s already been dealt a bad hand in life. He should be keeping Phantom at a distance, watching over him carefully to ensure he isn’t a threat to Chelsea.

But Duke saw how he acted with Chelsea, so gentle and understanding and kind. That’s all he needed to see.

He may not know much about Danny, but he knows this: he is trustworthy.

Enough to entrust his identity to him.

Enough to entrust Chelsea to him.

It’s more than a favor; it’s a promise to walk this road together.

There’s no one he’d rather do this with.

“Thanks,” he says again, “For all of this. I know it’s a lot.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t mind. Really. It’s nice to know there’s another halfa out there, no matter how she came to be one. Makes things feel less lonely.”

“Will you tell me more about halfas?”

“Later. Once you get some proper rest. We’ve got time, haven’t we?”

“We do,” Duke agrees, affection settling warm in his chest. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Learning how to control her new powers won’t be easy for Chelsea. Learning how to take care of her won’t be easy. Learning how to do things together, as Duke and Danny rather than the Signal and Phantom, won’t be easy. But Duke knows with a certainty he feels in his bones that they’re going to be fine.

So long as they’ve got each other, they’ll be fine.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #thought a lot abt what the favor could be but i could not resist the idea of surprise co-parents once i thought of it #here's a kid who clings to someone she knows is safe bc she is scared and alone!!#heres a stressed out hero trying to take care of a kid with no knowledge of how to do that!! and the kid is a ghost!!#heres a ghost king expecting to be used as a weapon and called in for a big battle suddenly finding another halfa!!!#so much going on here. so much to think abt with this!!!!!#i do love found family like this where they all kinda stumble into it and do their best to make it good #also could not resist making yet another oc. chelsea has my whole heart i love her <3 shes my daughter first #the bats dont know abt chelsea yet!! bc she can go invisble. its all been instinct every time they pop over to visit duke #soon she'll be able to control it and meet them properly #by properly i mean dukes gonna go over for sunday brunch and a little girl is gonna pop out from behind him like 'hi! im new!'#they will all love her of course. they will be shocked but happy!!#and a little less happy abt the GHOST KING duke has been hiding in his apartment that hes co-parenting with #sorry for the long tags im obsessed w this idea i want to Expand on it #maybe one day... with my other wips out of the way...

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florallylly · 4 months

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i've seen model steve harrington aus. i've seen child steve harrington aus. i present: child model steve harrington

note: this came from my own desperate need to see this conceptualized and i SWEAR i've searched, i just can't find any content with child model steve so. :(

bc little steve harrington was remarkably cherub-like. his large brown eyes and soft pout ensured endless cooing and fussing from his mom's friends. and when he blushed and ducked his head in shyness, they only complimented him more. when he got home that day, his mom smiled at him.

so steve decided that he would put up with the cheek pinching and the squealing. he sat upright in his chair, sitting on his hands so he wouldn't fidget and ruin the image. because he'd do anything to keep his mom smiling at him. if he was being particularly good that day, she'd let him lay his head on her lap on the drive back home.

but everything changed at his father's birthday gala. a nearly eight year old steve harrington sat prim and proper in his seat, but a smile lit up his face--his cheeks round and his dimples showing up. he raised his hand up to cover his giggle, but he couldn't help but laugh at some silly old man with a loose toupee. then he sees his mom approaching, and his face quickly smooths over, going back to the more polite smile he usually adopted when it came to these events.

he'd ruined it. he hadn't continued being the sweet boy his mom wanted. but then, she smiles at him. and introduces him to the man behind her, who says he's a designer. the man holds out his hand, but when steve puts his hand into his palm, he doesn't shake it. the man simply holds his hand, his eyes scanning steve's face. steve tries not to squirm under the attention. but the man nods and smiles at his mom, and he gives two brief cheek kisses to steve, whispering in his ear "you're going to be a star, darling." steve looks at his mom, confused, but she waves him off to continue talking to the man.

a few months later, steve's mom whisks him off on a trip to france. and steve is so excited to go, nearly vibrating in his seat as the airplane prepares to take off. but instead of the eiffel tower and the seine, steve is taken to a studio. he's posed and changed. once again, he's being fussed over, but instead of wealthy socialites, gossiping make-up artists squeal over him. he's "perfect for the shoot" and "the most darling little boy." steve doesn't understand, but his mom is still smiling, so he lets the nice ladies brush powder over his face.

and he looks in the mirror. his hair is a little more tousled and his lips have a slight tint to them and his eyes seem to take up much of his face. he's put into new clothes, and he feels like a doll in their hands. and when he's put in front of the camera, he simply follows the photographer's directions. afterwards, he's bundled into the car and his mom can't stop gushing about how good he was.

apparently, he's a natural. and then she goes back to fussing over him, focusing more on appearance than his behavior now. but she takes him out shopping and they eat at an upscale restaurant along the champs-elysses. and steve is happy.

and then they go back home, and his mom is so much stricter than before. she has him try out all kinds of different hair products, determined to find the best combination to keep it looking shiny and soft. she controls his food intake and what he wears and makes him use weird creams and serums on his face. but this is what makes his mom happy, so he's happy to let her.

his mom is also on the phone a lot more lately, whispering harshly about the quality of brands and steve just assumes she's being picky about the clothes she buys. later, his mom picks him up and holds him, and asks if he'd like to move to italy. she looks at him intently and it's obvious what answer she wants, so steve nods. she smiles and holds him close, and it's the most loved steve has felt in a while.

so they move to italy, and suddenly steve is a lot more busy. he's put in front of more cameras for more people he doesn't know. but he's smiling and pouting and doing whatever they want him to do. his compliant attitude and polite nature have photographers and designers alike singing his praises, and steve always looks to his mom for approval. but she's been arguing with his dad a lot lately, so she's upset more often than not. but that's okay, the make-up artists are always kind to him.

but then one day, his mom takes a phone call in the middle of the shoot. and when it finishes, she's gone. steve goes back in, close to tears, but the make-up artists still hanging around look after him until a car is sent to pick him up. this becomes a trend. and eventually, steve goes alone to his shoots. he's always taken care of by the crew and someone is always there to pick him up, but it's not fun without his mom there.

but he knows that she's always enjoyed him taking pictures, so he continues to do so, hoping that she'll come watch him again sometime soon. and he busies himself with befriending the chatty make-up artists and the bossy photographers and the eccentric designers. and he's such a cute little thing that they can't help but dote on him.

steve is never catapulted into child stardom, as his mom is picky with his jobs, only choosing luxury brands and well known designers for him. but within the industry, they call him the "little prince."

and then steve is catapulted into puberty, but his intense skin regimen prevents him from getting acne, save for the occasional zit. and his diet and religious exercise schedule help maintain his look. and he's still doing remarkably well, especially now that he's fully aware that he is a Model.

and steve has truly grown into his looks. with time, he's grown more comfortable in front of the camera and made numerous friends. nearly all of them are older than him, but they're fun and loud and it fills up the space that normally surrounds him. and they're the ones who get him hooked on american movies. steve remembers living in america, but he's been in milan so long that everything he recalls is vague.

but he watches them and falls in love with the american high school experience. so when he finally catches his mom off the phone and actually in the house, steve asks if he can go to school in america. and his mom laughs. but steve keeps asking, which devolves into begging. and his mother snaps, slapping him across the face and calling him ungrateful. she cries and begs for forgiveness, cowed into shame by steve's desperate attempt to hold back tears.

and so she lets him go to school in hawkins, indiana. an odd choice, but his parents just so happened to own a property there. (in truth, both of his parents expected him to change his mind within the year). but steve finds his place at hawkins high, because even though nobody in hawkins has ever heard of versace, steve is pretty. he's pretty and charming and he knows the right thing to say. after all, he's spent his whole life perfecting his mask.

and even if his mom ended up moving back home with his dad, leaving steve all alone in that big empty house, steve is happy. he's finally hanging out with people his age and high school is so far removed from the glitz and glam of the fashion industry. and he's settled and content with tommy and carol by his side. while he misses his friends back in milan, steve finds himself longing for the clothes more often. hawkins was certainly the opposite of milan, what with the nearest mall being two hours away and only equipped with a macy's and jcpenny.

through it all, steve is determined to be normal. he laughs along with jokes he doesn't quite get and rolls his eyes at carol's cue, and he joins the swim team. and he joins the basketball team. and he goes to parties and kisses girls and wears dumb little polos with his letterman jacket and does everything that he saw in the movies.

but nancy wheeler is different. steve can't forget his time in italy and who he is and was, and he's reminded of his old life in everyone and everything in hawkins. but not nancy wheeler. she's all hawkins and all his. and then the upside down happens.

and then nancy wheeler breaks his heart.

even after three years, his parents continue to ask when he'll go back to modeling, but he's different now. the upside down and billy hargrove beat that starry eyed little kid who thrived in the spotlight. and nancy wheeler proved that adoration and love is fleeting, so what would even be the point of trying anymore? his dad was a little more approving of steve's retirement/hiatus, saying that steve must want to go to college so he can take over the family business.

but when steve doesn't get into college, he's once again badgered by his mom to go back. but he's grown and changed and he's not sure that he can pretend anymore, so he says no. and they cut him off. enter: scoops era.

the measly scoops salary is not nearly enough to cover all of the new bills and expenses steve has, but he's not willing to leave hawkins. so he reaches out to his friends back in italy, and they refer him to their american connections. steve doesn't model at the same level as before, but he poses for a couple of zines and one artist who got a little too handsy at his exhibition. but he's able to make it through until the mall blows up.

this routine continues and he starts working at family video with robin at his side, but he keeps his side job a secret from the kids, using the excuse of visiting his parents to leave town for his shoots. he's not ashamed, but he knows he wouldn't "be normal" anymore if they found out.

but how does he explain his near mental breakdown at the sight of his healing demobat scars. they're raised and ugly, ruining what should have been a perfect body. and even though he uses scar cream everyday, they refuse to fade away completely. and how could anyone stand to be near such an ugly thing when all his life, steve was meant to be pretty? after all, love and adoration is fleeting.