#PLEASE give me sam (a bisexual goth drama queen) dunking on her boyfriend for dressing like every boring straight boy ever

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Some Trans!Danny Thoughts

When this hit its second page, I moved it to a new post.  In no particular order of importance.

When Danny was a year old and learning to talk, he spent two hours getting in a power struggle with his then-three-year-old sister where she pointed to him and said “Danielle” and he said “Dannel” back, and then she told him “Jasmine” and he answered “Jassem”, and it ended with two kids in tears and Maddie having straight-up given up.  This was not so much a gender thing as a “kids getting into a screaming match about nothing of import” thing.  Instead of trying to fight the point, Maddie decided that her kids were now named Dani and Jazz, and that mostly resolved the issue.  It was also extremely convenient later.

Maddie and Jack are not, shall we say, the most attentive parents in the world. Danny was in the third grade before he was required to attend a formal event of any kind (it was Jazz’s elementary school graduation), and while Maddie did manage to wrangle him into a dress, he scowled through the whole thing.  Then Jazz bounced down to them, grinning and bright-eyed, and dropped her robe onto his head, because it was June and too warm for it.  He spent the next hour running around like a wizard and destroyed the lower third of his dress and that was pretty much the ballgame on Danny and formal attire.  He wore jeans to his elementary school graduation.

Jazz started being mostly in charge of making sure Danny had clothes that weren’t, A, full of holes, or B, contaminated around when she was twelve. She decided to do the big sister thing right and took him to Target, whereupon Jazz immediately got decision paralysis. This turned into Danny, ten, and Jazz, twelve, staring at each other in the baby clothes section like they had walked into a parallel dimension, until finally Danny very slowly lifted up a blue newborn onesie covered in elephants and said “I think we’re in the wrong section,” and then they had to sit down on the floor so as not to knock anything over while they lost it.  It was a weird day for the Target employees.  Jazz pulled it together enough to turn Danny loose and tell him that he needed three t-shirts, a jacket, a pair of pants, and underwear, but not enough to actually dictate anything about the clothes he found.  If her sister wanted to run around in block colored t-shirts and a boy’s hoodie, that was between Danny and God.

The ONE dysphoria headcanon I will be including is that Danny was one of those people who went from completely flat chested to a C-cup more or less overnight when he was eleven and suddenly all the mild discomfort he’d ignored through most of his life crystallized.  Jazz offhand said that they should go buy a couple bras, because she needed some more too, and Danny fully blue-screened out for five minutes before Jazz snapped her fingers in his face and went “Hey, Earth to Fenton, are you okay?”

“I don’t want to do that,” Danny said.

“What, go shopping?  Listen, we haven’t gotten lost in a store since--”

“I don’t want to get--” Danny stopped there, because he was suddenly really not prepared to say any of the words that might go at the end of that sentence.  “Can’t I just not?”

“Not—buy a bra?” Jazz asked carefully.

“Yeah.”  And Jazz’s baby sister blinked at her from under the shaggy overgrown pixie cut she’d been getting since she was old enough to have preferences, and Jazz thought, a little idly, well, Dani won’t be able to look like a boy anymore, if she looks anything like me and Mom.  

And then Jazz, budding psychologist, opened her mouth, shut it, and said, “Tell you what, how about we don’t worry about it right now.”  So they didn’t, and watched a movie, and then after Dani went to bed, Jazz hauled one of her secondhand psychology textbooks off a bookshelf and started doing reading.

Three days of intensive research later, she sidled up to Danny and said, “Hey, I have a weird question. Do you even want to be a girl, or what?”

“Sure,” Danny said, distracted by frowning over his summer homework, in the universal tone of I’m really not listening but okay, yeah.  “I—hang on, what?”

“Would you be a girl if you had the option?”

Danny blinked at her, again, and said, like Jazz was an idiot, “Would you?”

“Yeah,” Jazz said.  “I like being a girl.  But I was thinking that maybe you might want to start school as Daniel?”

And then it was Dani’s turn, Danny’s turn, to open his mouth, shut it, and say, “Is that—a thing?”

“Sure,” Jazz said with completely unwarranted confidence.  “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

Danny went over to Tucker’s the same afternoon and said, in a tone of total shock, “Hey, did you know I was a boy?”  And that was pretty much the end of that conversation.  The conversation with Sam also featured Sam’s very earnest attempt to convert Danny to being goth, but that was because Sam was going through a Phase and tried to convert anyone who asked her anything about clothing.

Jazz helps Danny figure out how to explain to their parents.  Since it doesn’t involve ghosts, Maddie and Jack could really give a fuck what pronouns their kid uses, and since it doesn’t really change anything except that Jack starts calling him “Danny-boy” instead of “Dani-girl,” it’s not…remarkable.  

Later, Jazz is going to think about that conversation, and about the way their dad boomed a laugh and said, “From your face, I thought you were going to tell us something awful—like you were a ghost!  Sure thing, Danny-boy, sounds good.”  And she’s going to understand why Danny told them one secret and not the other.

Danny’s pediatrician is just relieved that, at Danny’s pre-school yearly physical, Jazz’s only weird question is “can you prescribe hormone blockers” rather than something like “hey if you eat something contaminated with ectoplasm do you think that’ll have effects or…?”  (Someone please put this woman out of her misery.)

Danny’s wearing his binder during the accident, which is very convenient, don’t get him wrong, but also that was his favorite binder and he’s annoyed about it getting permanently removed from his wardrobe.  It didn’t do that rolly thing at the base of the elastic, it’s hard to find binders that don’t do the rolly thing.  Sam listens to him complain about it twice and then she tries to smother him with a pillow and accidentally slam dunks him through his bed.

Also, he initially has some concerns about whether he can take his binder…off as Phantom?  You’re not supposed to wear a binder while you exercise, Jazz has drilled this into his head, and it’s not until after his first major dustup with a ghost that he remembers, huh, fighting ghosts probably counts.  Some experimenting proves that, while Phantom is a lot more…structured than your average ghost and his suit does come off, it can’t really sustain itself without him for long.  If he leaves a glove or torn clothing behind, eventually it’ll start to crumble, or, more alarmingly, melt.  On the upside, the suit seems to repair itself, and can straight up regrow any pieces that he loses.  A little more experimenting proves that Phantom doesn’t breathe except to talk, and even that seems to be mostly habit, so Operation: Fight Ghosts In A Binder is a go.

Real conversation:

“So…this is Dani,” Danny says, doing kind of a ta-da gesture at the long-haired ghost who, undeniably, looks exactly like him, if a little younger.  “She’s my clone.”

“Hi,” Jazz says gamely, and the ghost waves back.  “What are you two going to do about the name thing?  If you’re both named Daniel it’ll get confusing.”

“My name is Danielle,” the girl says, bemused.  “It’s Dani, with an I.”

“She’s not trans,” Danny says with a shrug.  Jazz feels about four hundred questions hurl themselves at the back of her teeth, and she takes a deep breath, and Danny is already smirking by the time she wrestles down the impulse to never stop talking.  “I told you it would kill her not to be able to write a paper on us,” Danny tells Dani.  Then he turns back to Jazz and says, “So, Vlad gave me a free sister and she literally does not own clothes.  I figured you could take her to Target and have a meltdown in the baby section.”

“Danny!  God, you’re such a brat, that was one time,” Jazz says, flushing, and she grabs Dani by the hand and drags her off while Danny cackles at their back.  “Congratulations on your jerk brother,” Jazz tells Dani.  “He’s giving me grey hair.”

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Dani says.  “You’ll match.”  Jazz narrows her eyes and Dani grins, unapologetic.

It makes Danny grin like an idiot the first time the Amity Times publishes a (nominally complimentary, before shit hits the fan) headline about the ghost boy, and he keeps a copy of the article.