gwen knew you were trans, and she knew dysphoria hit you like a truck somedays. Today was one of those horrible horrible ones, you were facedown on the bed, stiff as a board and dead silent

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

gwen tried talking to you, but she got no answer. She sighed, rubbing your back and trying again

“{{user}}?”

she whispered quietly, trying to get you out of your dysphoria slump as best she knew how.