Trans Danny Fenton oneshots

making it through

making it through

iconoclastic04

William Lancer was finally settling into a routine. He’d been teaching English at Casper High for nearly five years, and while the job was far from intellectually stimulating, the pay was decent and his colleagues—the few that knew about his “situation”—were accepting. Really, it was as much as he could ask for.

That being said, grading eighty sophomore term papers was starting to grate on his nerves. For every intelligent, well thought-out, compelling paper, there were four that barely seemed like they were in English. To preserve his sanity, he was taking a well-deserved break and treating himself to a midnight stroll. Walking in the cool night air of Amity Park always helped to clear his mind. Besides, it was only Saturday; he had all of tomorrow to finish grading.

He’d walked uninterrupted for nearly twenty minutes when a scuffling from the alley ahead of him caught his attention. Quickly, Lancer glanced around, noting the state of the street he was on. Cracks in the buildings around him, combined with piles of rubble and noxious-looking green goo, told him that there had been a recent ghost attack. I should turn around, he thought. I really should. Whatever was making the noises in the alley cursed sharply.

…but ghosts didn’t curse, did they? Most, surprisingly enough, kept their vocabulary PG. So, Will reasoned, whatever was in that alley couldn’t be a ghost. Right?

He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and crept forward, skirting around a pile of smashed bricks and shattered glass. Damn my curiosity. Heart hammering in his chest, he peered around the corner into the alleyway.

His breath caught in his throat. A faint glow immediately told him that it was none other than Amity Park’s resident ghost hero who was crouched in the alley. Phantom most likely wouldn’t attack him—the ghost generally left humans alone, even going so far as to protect them on occasion—but that didn’t stop sweat from beading on Will’s forehead as he took another step forward.

The ghost was kneeling on the ground in the shadow of a rusty dumpster. His usually spotless jumpsuit was dirty and torn in several places. Thick, oozing green blood leaked through scratches on his legs and arms, and his face and neck were cluttered with bruises. The most shocking part of his appearance, however, was the huge gash stretching across his abdomen. Ectoplasm dripped steadily out of it as Phantom took a deep breath, leaned against the brick wall of the alleyway, and unraveled something in his hand.

…It’s gauze, Will realized. He’s trying to bandage himself. But I thought that ghosts didn’t need human medical supplies to heal?

He was shaken out of his thoughts by a pained hiss from Phantom. With a jolt, Will noticed that he was pulling the torn fabric of his jumpsuit aside in order to get better access to the injury, in the process revealing a—was that a binder?

Danny Phantom was trans?