DCxDP Fanfic Idea: Ecto-Specialist

DCxDP fanfic idea: Ecto-Specialist

Danny Fenton gets sent by his parents as a Fenton Ecto-Specialist at the request of the Justice League. They would have gone themselves, but unfortunately, every other Fenton had come down with the flu.

Danny was happy about his ghost immune system because this meant he could present Ghosts in a much more favorable light. He left behind all his parents' weapon blueprints and research reports.

He switched them out with his PowerPoint, ghost notes, and interviews he managed to obtain from the friendlier spiris. He arrived to the Hall of Justice, was given a special access pass and was told to set up in a board room.

He nervously plugged everything in, smooth down his suit, and practiced his speech. He's given presentations before, but they have always been school assignments. It was still nerve-wracking, but at least everyone else had to give the exact same topic for the same five to six minutes requirement.

Here, he was going to speak before some of the best heroes of the world to convince them that ghosts were sentiment. To prove they should have rights.

No pressure.

"Hello, I'm Danny Fenton. I'm going to speak about Ecto-beings and their vast culture within the Infinite Realms, " He says to the empty chairs. He pauses for a moment before, as if though he was gathering the attention of a audience before pressing the clicker abd watching his slide move.

"What are Ecto-beings?" He makes a gesture, that he once saw Tim Drake do on TV. It was a smooth wrist roll that he thought look sophisticated. "They can come in all shapes and sizes. Some are naturally formed from their environment, others are born to Ecto-beings and a few or deceased spirits. But they all share a core build from ectoplasm. That's what classifieds them as-"

"Maybe start but explaining what ectoplasm is" a voice cuts him off. Danny is not proud of the high pitch scream that releases from his throat. He is even less proud that he jumps so badly, he ends up tripping over his feet and falling over.

Bell-like laughter, fills the air, and Danny swings his head to the doorway only to further choke on his spit. Standing there looking like a Greek god is Tim Drake.

The very person he was attempting to imitate.

"Are you the Fenton Works representative?" Drake asks, strutting in with a wink. "I'm here on Wayne Enterprises behalf. We may be doing a joint charity effort for Ecto-beings rights. I'm Timothy Drake. And you?"

"I ugh, I'm Danny. Ugh- Danny Fenton. My parents own Fenton Works." He scrambles to his feet, flushing dark red when Drake smiles. "I'm presenting today. I was um practicing?"

"You're doing great" Drake assures. "Just remember to not stand in front of the screen. You want people to ready your bullet points."

"Oh." Danny drags his podium over. He cringes when he realizes that causes it yo scrap against the floor, leaving two long lines.

Drake's grin widens. "It has wheels. You just press the little lever on the right"

Danny wants to die "right. Sorry"

"Nothing a wax machine can't fix." Drake tilts his head, studying his face before asking,"Want to get a quick coffee to calm your nerves? They sell a great brand in the cafeteria"

Danny rubs his hands "Coffee makes me more nervous but thank you"

Drake's smile flatters before it switches back. "Icecream then?"

"No thank you. I run cold naturally and ice cream makes it worse"

".....how about afterwards? We could go watch a moive? Dinner?"

"I would, but I'm supposed to stay in the hotel my parents rented for me. They'll know if I'm not."

The other teen nods and looks a bit disappointed. "Alright, you can't blame a guy for trying . Well, good luck with your practice. I'll be back in an hour for the presentation."

Dannybwaves goodbye, trying to slow his fluttering heart rate. He just spoke to Tim Drake! He can't wait to text Sam and Tucker.

It's only after re-running the presentation once, about thirty minutes later, that Danny jolts in place "HE WAS ASKING ME OUT?!"

"Who was?"

For the second time that day, Danny released a high pitch scream. It's much worse to find Wonder Woman fighting a amused smile standing in the doorway instead of a Teenage Hearttob.

He hasn't even started. Maybe he should have fake being sick, too.

Prompt 304

SO. Turns out that Danny is apparently a clone. Who knew? Not him! Would have loved to know that earlier, but he doesn’t exactly have time to freak out about that because Ellie is melting. She’s going to die if he doesn’t do something and he already gave so much ecto that they both look ten now, but the only thing he can do is pray to everything and Clockwork that this portal works. 

Because Ellie needs their Original’s dna to stabilize her, not his own slowly destabilizing blood, and that means going to another dimension to where they’re still alive. This has to work- even if they can never go back, it’ll be worth it if he can just make sure Ellie lives. She’s all he has now.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU, Danny Phantom Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Danny Phantom & Kon-El, Danny Phantom & Match, Danny phantom & Batman, Danny Phantom & YJL Characters: Danny Phantom - Character, Kon-El, Match - Character, Batman, Superman, Red Robin - Character, Robin, Nightwing, Red Hood Additional Tags: Danny got reincarnated into a superbat clone, He’s physically three years old, Kon-El Match and Danny are all sort of brothers, The idea is from a writing prompt on tumblr, I got permission to make a fic for it Series: Part 3 of Danny Fenton x DCU Summary:

Danny got reincarnated into a superbat clone. Physically he’s three years old. There are two other clones, Match and Kon-El, that are physically older than him. (Mentally not so much) When Danny finds out that he is scheduled to be terminated and his brothers will continue to be experimented on, they all escape. They end up at mountain where they meet some of the young justice league and their mentors. The physically older two clones don’t trust them and to be honest neither does Danny (he didn’t come thing far by trusting random strangers dressed in weird costumes even if he does sort of recognize them) but he at least doesn’t outright snarl at them like some people.

This was inspired by one of puppetmasters13u prompts https://www.tumblr.com/puppetmaster13u/749443565613170688/prompt-295?source=share 

@puppetmaster13u

@joey-dragon

@shadowkatt99

@leafyeyes417

Hunger Chapter 2

“Well, if it's the lone star tick, that only makes you allergic to red meat, right?” said Sam.  

“Yeah, I guess,” said Danny, staring hard at the plate of chicken nuggets Tucker had just pulled from the microwave.  He was also under the impression that the tick thing got you all at once, not gradually if rapidly over the course of a few weeks, with the effects going from thinking meat tasted off, to just ‘not being in the mood’ for it, to actively throwing up upon taking a bite of a hamburger.  

He tried to determine if the faint sense of nausea he felt while looking at the chicken was from his memory or, well, from looking at the chicken.  

“Cheese was fine,” observed Tucker.  “Eggs were fine.”

They had been.  Danny picked up a chicken nuggets and tried to ignore how his skin crawled as he did so.  Before he could double-guess himself, he popped it into his mouth and swallowed as quickly as possible, hardly even chewing.  

His body immediately rebelled.  

Luckily, he had a good mental map of Tucker's house, so he was able to dive through the wall and into the bathroom before he started puking his guts out.  

“Not the tick, then,” said Tucker, sounding like he was going to barf himself.  

“You know,” said Sam, “I'm all for having more vegetarians in the world, but I think you should maybe… see someone about this.”

Danny finished emptying his digestive system and went to the sink to rinse out his mouth.  

“Who?” he asked, tone matching the bitter taste.  “It's not like I can go see a doctor.  Half ghost and all.”

“I know that,” said Sam.  “I meant your ghost friend.  The one that helped you with your other changes.  The freckles and skin color and ghost puberty stuff.”

“Oh,” said Danny.  “I don't really want to bother him too much, though.”

And, when he wasn't actively experiencing the need to be eaten, or the disorienting second childhood that came after, he was rather shy about the whole arrangement.  Understandably so, he thought.  

Sam crossed her arms and stared at him, unimpressed, through the bathroom mirror.

“What happens when this does spread to eggs and cheese?  Or fruit?  Or vegetables?  Would you go see him then?”

Danny grimaced and went ghost, hoping he could get rid of the foul taste in his mouth that way.  If anything, it made it worse.  

“Whoa!  What's that on your back?” asked Tucker, pointing.  

Danny looked back at him, alarmed at the tone of voice, then twisted so he could see his back in the mirror.  Pushing up on his suit from below were two bumps, just under his shoulder blades.  He quickly unzipped and pulled down the top of his suit.  It wasn't something stuck on his back.  It was part of his back.  Two upwards distortions of skin.  

“I don't know,” he said.  He touched one of the tiny knobs.  It was sensitive, though not in a bad way.  On the other hand, it didn't really feel like skin.  More like… petals, maybe.  Soft and silky.  

He swallowed.  As strange as it may sound, being eaten had removed some of the sense of wrongness Danny had felt about his body since the Accident.  But this… this mutation… he didn't know what to do with this.  

But maybe Clockwork would.

.

Half curled in Clockwork's lap, listening to him rhythmically list off things he thought were appetizing, things that Danny could feel his core taking special note of, he didn't know why he'd been so nervous.  

When Clockwork finished his list (which included things like statues, silver, gemstones, the smell of lilacs and lilies, chocolate, vanilla, cream, sugar, and the sound of clocks) Danny looked up.  “So my wings will bloom… like a flower?”

“They tend to be similar in appearance, yes.”

“And my body will change to be tasty.”

“As you ripen.”

“And then you'll eat me, and that's it?  Things will go back to normal?”

“What do you mean by normal?”

“You know.  Like it usually is for me.”

“You will have to grow up again, and when you near ripeness, the wings will grow back, but, to some degree, yes.”  He paused for a moment, playing with Danny's hair.  “Once your wings bloom, you will find yourself compelled to seek out places with high concentrations of ectoplasm, so you can feed.  You may also find yourself losing mobility, either from physical changes or psychological pressure.  At least, those are all things experienced by other ghosts with this adaptation.  I cannot tell you your future, after all.”

Danny wrinkled his nose at the obvious loophole-ing, but pressed on.  “To make it easier for someone to find and eat me.”

“Yes.”

“And this will happen again?”

“It may happen more slowly, if you are not under quite so much pressure to improve, but yes.”  Clockwork started to braid some of Danny's longer hairs. 

“Can I, um, can I come here, when I start to bloom, then?”

“Of course,” said Clockwork.  “I believe the garden will be most suitable, should you feel the need to plant yourself, but your bedroom is also available, and you may choose any space you like.”

Danny hummed.  “And you'll still eat me?”

“Of course.”

Danny's stomach rumbled, jolting him out of his half-doze and reminding him that he'd thrown up everything he'd eaten today.  

He blushed, then blushed harder when he realized that, without his top on, Clockwork could probably see the blush working its way all down Danny's back to the base of his spine.  

Clockwork chuckled.  “Speaking of eating, growing wings is hungry work.  Come.”

Reluctantly, Danny got up and followed Clockwork to the kitchen he had stocked with human things.  Danny hadn't thought about it much, but he must have made it especially for Danny, for when he was growing up again after being eaten.  

Clockwork reached into the fridge and removed a large, clay jug of something, then a smaller glass bottle full of something red like wine.  He examined the bottle for a while.  “I could,” he said, after a moment, “accelerate the growth of your wings.  Just this once.”

“Why only once?”

“The cycle of consumption and regrowth would become unbalanced if done too frequently.  You may eventually wind up growing wings shortly after hatching.”

“Yikes,” said Danny.  “Um.  I think I'll pass this time and just go at the normal rate.”

Clockwork nodded and put the glass bottle away.  Then, from the jug, he poured Danny a cup of what looked a lot like thick paint but smelled so good Danny's mouth was watering before Clockwork even gave it to him.  It tasted a lot like a vanilla milkshake, and as soon as he was done drinking it, he fell asleep.  

.

“He says it's normal,” said Danny.  

“Really?” said Sam, with all the sarcastic bite a goth teenager could manage, which was a lot.  

“The type of ghost I am doesn't eat other ghosts, and since I'm half human, that crosses over to animals.  It's not going to get worse, it's just…” He sighed.  “A thing.”

“And the stuff on your back?” asked Tucker.

“Same kind of thing.  They're like antlers.  They'll fall off eventually.”

“Well,” said Sam, when Danny failed to elaborate, “I can at least give you some vegetarian meal recipes.”

.

Danny found himself eating more sweets.  And more cream.  A lot more cream, since usually he didn't eat any.  He wasn't sure why, since it wasn't like eating those would make him taste like them.  Unless it did?  Ghost logic was strange, sometimes.  

Whatever.  It was food.  It wasn't like he was eating flowers.  

.

The process of growing wings was both painful and satisfying.  Painful, because the growing buds made his back ache in both forms, despite only existing in one.  Satisfying, because the bigger they got the less wrong they felt.  

Like he was growing back into himself.  

.

Okay, so he was eating flowers.  It wasn't like he was eating anyone's jewelry.  

.

He'd thought he'd have to change his jumpsuit to accommodate the wing buds.  He didn't.  His jumpsuit changed on its own, not stretching, but weaving itself over the buds as they grew.  It was like the suit was part of the buds, too, that way.  

Even the seams lined up with the edges of the petals.  

.

He booted Johnny Thirteen from the jewelry store, then froze, looking at the display cases.  His stomach rumbled a little.  

No.  Just, no.  He wasn't an animal.  He had control over himself.  He wasn't doing that.  

.

In the dead of the night, he woke from the kind of deep, heavy sleep he only got when he had truly exhausted himself.  His core sang with resonance.  

With an automatic response that came from being taught it from early childhood twice, Danny rolled out of bed and followed the pull down the stairs and into the basement.  He transformed sluggishly, groaning a little as his wing buds came into being.  They were still furled, but they had grown long and heavy and while the weight and tension could feel good in some positions, the same tension could stress every muscle in his body if he moved the wrong way.  

He flew through the Zone on autopilot, following the resonance all the way home to Long Now.  He snuggled into Clockwork's side, seeking the core that had called him.  

“Hi,” he said, tiredly.  “What's up?”

“Hello, Daniel.  Your wings are about to bloom.  I thought it best to call you here.”

“Oh, thanks,” said Danny.  

“Here, I've set something up for you in the garden.”

“Hm?  Why?” asked Danny, letting Clockwork steer him.  

“The garden has the best ectoradiation and flow of ectoplasm.”

Those things did sound good…

When they got to the garden, in all its multi-season glory, Clockwork took Danny down a path he'd never noticed before.  At the end of it was a cool, pleasant glade, with a small pond and a wooden bench and table.  On one side of the pond was the statue of a veiled angel, holding a mirror.  Directly opposite the mirror, on the other side of the pond, was a clear space and a a moss-covered rock that was just the right size for a pillow.

Clockwork guided Danny down to kneel by the rock, then to rest his head on it so he was looking at the mirror.

The first thing that Danny noticed was that Clockwork had arranged him in the classic, semi-fetal “baby angel” pose.  The second thing was that it was absurdly comfortable, the position perfectly accounting for the weight of his wings.  

“I thought you would like to see,” explained Clockwork.  

Danny, still only half awake, was about to ask see what when his whole body was seized with acute, anticipatory tension.  

The covering of his jupsuit peeled away first, revealing the silver-freckled purple of the outside of his wings.  Then, with a sticky, tearing sound, the petals themselves separated, falling open to the sky.  There were three for each wing, their insides a dull, clouded green.  

He trembled with the sudden influx of energy.  He could taste the sky, the wind, the delicate variations of ectoenergy.  But none of that energy was available for him.  He could feel it being stored away, packed tight and out of reach, a treat for whoever ate him.  

He tried to stay awake, but the exertions of his new functions bore him under swiftly.  He didn't even remember closing his eyes.  

.

An advantage of his wings senses was that he knew exactly where he was when he woke up.  Directly in front of his face was a ladle with a note that said “stay hydrated!” on it, and a plate full of… clock parts?

He picked one up - a small silver plate with emeralds pressed into it - and popped it in his mouth without thinking about it.  

The freak out was immediately followed by the rest of the clock parts disappearing. 

Danny's jumpsuit was shredded and didn't seem to be reforming like it usually did, so Danny put on the pair of pajama pants that had been left, folded, on the bench.  Then, he went to look for Clockwork.  

(Stepping inside made his wings droop ever-so-slightly.  The environment outside really was better.)

“Thanks for calling me over,” said Danny, floating closer to Clockwork, “and for the, um.  Snack.  But should probably go back to Amit–”  Danny was hit with a massive wave of disorientation.  He very much wanted to go home, but at the same time, he was completely certain that was a bad idea.  He would have fallen out of the air if Clockwork hadn't steadied him.  His core whined, confused, and a very small part of him was pleased to detect a slightly mechanical, ticking note to the noise.  

“Daniel,” said Clockwork, very gently, “Amity Park is back on Earth, outside the Zone.  There wouldn't be enough ectoplasm there for you.” 

“But,” said Danny, uncertainly.  

“Can you turn human right now?” asked Clockwork.  

Danny tried.  He couldn’t.  His wings held him firmly in ghost form, refusing to be banished before their task was done and Danny was being digested in Clockwork’s stomach.  

“I intend to keep our arrangement from earlier,” said Clockwork, before Danny could panic.  “You will not be missed.”

Danny relaxed.  The times Clockwork had eaten him, he'd stopped time until Danny could go home.  “Thanks,” he said.  

Clockwork nodded graciously, then pulled Danny towards him to kiss his forehead.  “I can already tell that you'll taste delicious in no time.  Please, relax.  There is no hurry.”

.

“I think I have more freckles than before,” said Danny.

“Indeed,” said Clockwork, setting a bowl of what Danny knew was just cream, sugar, vanilla, and ectoplasm mixed together in front of him.  

That didn’t stop his body from craving the mixture like nothing else.  

Clockwork stopped him from grabbing it, and emptied a small jar of flower petals into it.  Then flakes of silver and diamond dust.  

Danny made a hungry noise.  One layer of it was human enough, but whirring and ticking and something bell-like were clearly audible.  

(Danny could not match any clocks, yet, but he was working on it)

“They’re getting bigger, too,” he observed, after guzzling half the bowl.  

“I see,” said Clockwork.  

“And they feel different.  The skin.”  The freckles felt smoother, slicker, and cooler than the skin around them.

Clockwork picked up one of Danny’s hands and ran his thumb over a tight cluster of freckles.  “Like icing on a cake.”

Danny took his hand back and finished off the bowl.  “Do you think I’ll taste like cake.”

“I think you will taste like yourself,” said Clockwork.  “Sweeter than any cake.”

.

Danny tried to sleep in the room he’d grown up in, the last two times, but the air in there felt so stale when compared to the garden, and he found himself sleeping at the pond, resuming the position Clockwork had put him in the first time.  

Well, he supposed Clockwork had foreseen how well it would work.  

Clockwork spent a lot of time there, too, sitting at the bench and reading out loud to Danny as he dozed.

.

The freckles started to merge together into broad silvery-white patches.  When those patches were around a joint, the joint became hard to move.  Extra force was needed to bend the tough, shiny, skin.  And within those silver patches, gems grew, set into his skin like bearings in watches.  

.

Danny’s wings started to pale.  Streaks of color - silver, bronze, blue, palest lilac and pink - made appearances, organizing themselves into complex fractal patterns.  

.

“I know I’m sleeping more,” said Danny, “but I don’t know how much more.”

They were still in the garden.  Clockwork was rubbing a cream into Danny’s back, near his wings.  There were complex structures there, under his skin, woven through his ectoplasmic muscles and around his bones, and they were working hard, all the time.  Even in the best position Clockwork could put him in, they often ached.  

And even the satisfying ache of a job well done was still an ache.  

“How much time you spend here doesn’t matter,” said Clockwork.  “You should sleep as much as you need to, and not worry about it.”

.

When Danny woke up, he couldn’t open his right eye.  He looked at the mirror across the pond and saw that a silver patch had completely covered the eyelid.  

He groaned and tried to push himself up.  Tried.  His wrist didn’t bend when he told it to.  He glared at it, one-eyed.  Silver had circled it, too, and the thumb on that hand.  He tried to bend it again, and had some success, but as soon as he stopped actively forcing it, it returned to the position it was in before.  

A quick check showed that his eye and wrist weren’t the only body parts affected.  His left hip was partially covered, and so was a great deal of his spine.  

This would have been a much bigger problem if he couldn’t fly.  

“I can bring you breakfast in the garden,” said Clockwork.  “You don’t want to be stuck in an uncomfortable position.”

Danny was already itching to go back to the garden.  His wings had started to produce a thin, fragrant nectar from their bases the other day, and since then, sitting upright made his back feel bloated and leaky.  

He opened his mouth to say as much, but instead of a human voice, a complex series of ticks and chimes rolled out.  The ticks sent pleasing vibrations through his bones and flesh, and the chimes hummed in his throat.  It was all completely incomprehensible to him, but it felt good.

He glanced up at Clockwork, who was smiling.  “Go on,” Clockwork said.

Danny grinned - skin moving strangely around the silver patches - and started to chatter.  

.

The next day, Danny couldn’t open either of his eyes.  The air smelled strongly of vanilla and lilac.  

“Don’t worry, Daniel,” said Clockwork as he tipped a cup of cream into Danny’s mouth, “I will take pictures of what you look like ripe.”

.

Having spent so much time at Long Now, Danny hadn’t released the cold energy that naturally built up in his core over time.  It spread outwards, now, freezing him from the inside out even as the silvery-white coating his skin did the same from the outside in.  

But it did not touch his wings, which stayed soft and flexible and took in energy and ectoplasm at the same steady rate.  

.

“I wonder if you are even aware of all the sounds you are making,” said Clockwork, fondly, as he rubbed Danny’s back in that way that felt so good.  “They’re enough to make me want to eat you right away, but I can tell you aren’t quite ripe yet.”  He patted Danny’s back.  “Just a little longer.”

.

Danny knew when he was ripe.  Not from any external stimulus, but because something like a switch popped up in his brain.  Not a literal switch, of course, he wasn’t hallucinating, but he knew that if he flipped it, if he made this one, last, tiny conscious decision, he would send out a signal that said eat me, I’m tasty!

He flipped the switch.  

.

(The next thing he consciously remembered, he was hatching from an egg in Clockwork’s hands.)

Sick of this guy

bro is a cutie patootie