oh, lord.

trans woman danny zuko, somewhere around nineteen years old.

she’s a hugely disastrous lesbian.

her dead name was not a derivative of danny. it was something else entirely. she’s known from a young age who she wanted to be and she chose the name danielle for herself. it was her grandmother’s name.

in her proper 1950s verse, she doesn’t have the chance to transition physically until the late 60s or so. (maybe later, considering the first ftm reassignment surgery wasn’t until 1966.) she has to wait until she’s on her own and making enough of her own money to do anything past social transition.

in her modern verse she’s able to swing it better.

kenickie was the first person she came out to, and, like, he didn’t know how to deal with it at first because hey this is the 1950s i don’t want you to get hurt but he’s been her best friend since basically birth so why the fuck is he gonna ditch her / talk her down now. he’s fiercely protective of her and so are the rest of the guys.

@shewrit. 

gently brushing tracey’s hair back with her fingers, faith settles a bliss flower behind her ear, touch trailing over her cheek. it’s been so long since she’s seen her former love, so long since she’s touched her. 

‘ hello, tracey. welcome to the bliss. ‘

          tracey vaguely remembers a struggle; spitting out curses and running and dodging and, ultimately, the sting of a bliss bullet hitting the meat of her thigh. ( remembering, faintly, the way she was choking back tears borne of anger, tears borne of fear. ) the memory weaves in and out, rushing away with the delicate brush of faith’s fingers. the beat of her heart is sluggish and hurting at the sight of her. the flower is bitterly sweet, the waves of its perfume threatening to choke her--- tracey leans into the touch despite herself, posture tilting forward, hands lifting and falling back to her sides in a slow, aborted movement.

        dina. deanna’s never actually spoken to her, but she’d be a fool to not recognize who she is purely because of how often she sees ellie’s lovesick puppy look when dina’s around or even mentioned. grin already in tow, she shifts the bundle of wood she’s got in her arms and clears her throat. “hey, you’re ellie’s girl, right? like – her main girl. friend.” 

                her smile remains even. // @shewrit ; dina.  

          ‘ ha -- maybe so. ’ dina’s been caught, jolted out of a daydream, but her reply comes smooth enough, punctuated by a short laugh. ( dina likes ellie; she really does. as a friend, and ... well, yeah, in that sort of way ellie’s been a bit too thick to realize dina returns. they’ll get there eventually, even if dina has to take matters onto her own terms. ) ‘ i don’t think i’ve met you yet. pretty sure i’d’ve remembered. ’ ah, and there it is: a gleam in her dark brown eyes. she likes to think she’s charming. similar to the way some people might offer a hand to shake, dina steps close enough to offer a hand-- both of them, in fact-- with the firewood. 

@shewrit. 

it’s another coughing fit. too long since she’s eaten, her body protesting the lack of substance in its own unique way. producing a handkerchief from a hidden pocket and pressing it to her mouth, alice can taste ink in her mouth. still coughing, she only lifts the white cloth to speak to the nearest person. 

‘ do you — ‘ cut off again, ‘ do you have water? ‘

          the space between li’s eyebrows creases, skin wrinkling. what with the near incessant stream of coughs, she’s surprised she can’t see red soaking through the square cloth. ‘ oh, uh, i don’t think so. shoot. ’ somehow, it feels wrong to curse in front of such a pretty lady. it’s one of those unbidden thoughts that she’s cataloging to look at later. ‘ lemme see. ’ li rummages in the inner pockets of the bag slung over her shoulder. all she has is a lighter, a nearly empty pack of cigarettes, her wallet, and -- oh. she’ll be damned. li pulls out the bottle, tiny as it is, extending it towards her with one hand.