#foot dysphoria

[the-rockinahard-place]

let’s talk about feet :)

specifically foot size/getting new shoes dysphoria.

Now I know afabs generally have smaller feet than amabs. But, I personally don’t think that is a good enough excuse for creating two separate categories of shoe (men’s and women’s). Enough with the corporate shit, just let me buy clothes for my feet without having to tell you my gender.

I hate how small my feet are, okay? I’m 5ft 7-8” but my feet are like a size 6 in youth. My feet are not proportional to the rest of me and what makes it worst is cis guys the same height as me have size 10 feet. THATS A FOUR SIZE GAP. This obviously makes me hella dysphoric. So to combat this I no longer own a black pair of shoes, vans are off limits, converse are a hit and miss, but white nike shoes are golden. This is because everything else make my feet look small while the lengthy, and blocker white nike creates the illusion that I have normal looking feet. Also its a plus that their trending rn.

Getting running shoes is a whole different story. I’m an athlete so their an integral part of my life. Yet, my nike trick stops working because nike actually sucks at making good supportive runners. And because I’m looking for high quality shoes my parents want to look with me. This brings me back to my men’s and women’s category dilemma.

Because there are these two separate categories companies had to make sure there was a distinct difference between the two beside foot size. So what do they do? they make men’s black and grey with blue or red accents. And women’s typically black or white with accents of purple, and pink. Can men wear any color and still be a man? yes. Does my dysphoria care about this? no. So when I go shoe shopping while my parents misgender me to the employee, I get presented with these “girlie” options. I hate all of the shoes I try on because they make me dysphoric. It would be easier to win the lottery, than find a women’s running shoe that doesn’t make me want to kms. They make my feet look fatter, stubbier all while covering it in black and fucking purple.

conclusion? buy grey or white shoes, and do so alone.



[millenari]

as someone whose never seen Cats live I feel like I totally miss out on the experience of macavity (& the macavity doubles) appearing in the audience-- I always forget that's a thing that happens bc 98 is Bad at establishing where newly introduced figures are standing & most boots dont show whats going on in the audience, you just hear macavity laughing during the scares. But I feel like there's really Something to looking to the side while watching the kitty cat musical and finding a 6 ft+ grown ass man dressed up like a cat just chilling in the aisle like 4 seats away from you

[stars-and-branches]

Dude I got perceived as my agab today and immediately wanted to peel myself like an onion. Time to compartmentalize and not address this until five years later and in therapy!

[contagious-watermelon]

It's interesting to me that understandings of transsexuality have been almost exclusively filtered through the lens of queerness and the social aspects of gender. In other words, that the "T" was added to "LGBT." I've thought for a while that in a lot of cases, transness — and specifically dysphoria — makes a lot more sense when analyzed through the lens of disability rather than through queerness. (Personally I see it as being at the intersection between those things.)

I think that a theory of transsexuality would be incomplete without taking into account the societal aspects of gender, yes, but it seems to be similarly incomplete in the popular understanding of it.

I've seen a lot of discussion in the stuff I've read by disabled people about the contention between being objectively harmed or, well, disabled, by your disability, but still wanting to be proud of it or finding identity in it regardless. A lot of autistic communities, I've noticed, talk a lot about the fact that being autistic is difficult; it's made worse by other people's reactions to it, but it still is hard on its own (e.g. auditory overstimulation); yet people still can say that they'd rather be autistic than not. Or they may say they wish they weren't, but that they've come to terms with it because it's not exactly changeable.

Point is, there's open discussion about the differences between inherent challenges to your disability regardless of society, the ways which ableism makes things more difficult, and the contention of finding identity and community in your disability despite that. (And I use autism as an example because I'm autistic; I don't want to speak for, say, a physically disabled community as I'm able-bodied. But I have seen similar discussions there as well.)

The trans community, as I've seen, doesn't really have that. We're polarized between the extremely self-hating people who think that being trans is a curse and that people who like being trans are just fakers co-opting transness, and the toxically positive contingent who refuse to engage with the fact that sometimes dysphoria really does just hurt. And also that transphobia exists.

There's also the fact that in many ways, dysphoria is actually disabling. It isn't for everyone, and part of the problem is that transness as a concept covers so many things that analyzing it through just one lens will always be incomplete, but for me at least it caused me a lot of depression and dissociation, and made it difficult-to-impossible to interact with other people or function at my classes. Back before I medically transitioned, I related a lot to some descriptions by disabled people about their chronic pain, because my dysphoria effectively was chronic psychological pain. I don't want to say it's the same thing, because obviously I've only experienced one of those things, and dysphoria has a treatment while many (all?) chronic illnesses don't, but nevertheless it was a comforting lens to think of my dysphoria through in the time before I got top surgery.

Also of note is the way both our communities are treated by the medical establishment. I've heard many horror stories by disabled people of how doctors simply refuse to diagnose them or give them issues with their meds. Trans people obviously also have to deal with the shit that doctors put out in order to get access to HRT and any necessary surgeries. People deride HRT, saying that we shouldn't take it because it'll "make you a medical patient for life." People act like mental pain isn't real — calling depression fake, acting like because things like fibromyalgia aren't "real pain" that it shouldn't bother you so much, etc. — and that extends too into the way they dismiss the pain of gender dysphoria.

So, I don't really understand why the trans community has taken so many pains to disavow themselves from being considered even remotely similar to disabled people. I know that the common refrain, "we're not mentally ill!" is meant to combat the idea that we're deluded into thinking that we're a "different gender" than we really are, but the effect is throwing actually mentally ill trans people under the bus. The insistence that there's no way that dysphoria should be considered a disorder because there's nothing wrong with us — I just think that we could take a hint or two from the way that disabled people theorize about this subject.

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Chapter 5

The pack discovers Dew is missing. Dew's journey begins, and he reflects on his past.

Rating: M Content: parental problems, trans dewdrop, accidental misgendering, self-hatred, gender dysphoria, dew makes decisions that hurt him mentally and physically, he's scared of rejection and also, potential starvation, found family, dew faces his past Words: 5105

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

Quite a lore/backstory heavy one for Dew this week! I wanted to get a bit more plot in, but there's a fair bit of history and some other characters that need introducing first!

hi hi @revengeghoulette @everybodyshusband @rainsbasspick (an additional thank you for your advice on some basic horsey words haha!), as always tysssm for your interest in my silly little fic!!

Read below, or on AO3!

Dear Aether, Mountain, Swiss,

Don't wait for me, get out of here. Help Rain, but don't put yourselves in danger. They'll kill you too.

I'll be back when I can. I love you always.

Dewdrop.

“What does he mean?” cried Aether, “How can he just run off and leave like that?”

“I can't believe the selfish little bastard, after all we did for him!” Mountain growled, anger winning out over Aether's sadness at the fire ghoul's early departure.

"You don't mean that, Sprout.” Swiss tried to sooth him, wrapping warm arms around him from behind and pressing his warm nose in-between the taller ghoul's shoulder blades. His visions had stopped as Dew fled, the future too uncertain now even for his supernatural predictions. The numbness had caught him off guard leaving him feeling empty and hollow, stumbling outside to find his packmates. The sudden clarity felt sharp, like he had been doused in ice cold water.

They had discovered Dew's note soon after, propped up in the middle of the kitchen table. Aether had read it aloud, over and over until the words became noise in their ears and his voice disintegrated into choked-off sobs.

“I'll wring his scrawny neck when I catch him!” angry tears started to fall down Mountain's cheeks. “He's doomed Rain and doomed us all!”

“I thought we were pack...” Aether whimpered, clutching the note to his chest.

Swiss's head still reeling slightly from the sudden departure of his painful visions, he found himself the one in greatest control of his emotions. He tried to push some of his own quintessence into the room to calm the situation down. His visions having stopped so abruptly made him uneasy, and he knew they wouldn't return until they left the farmhouse where their fate was sealed if they stayed. They had no future here, that was clear to him.

“Dew's right,” he ventured, ignoring the slight growl from the earth ghoul in his arms, “we have to get out of here, we're all dead if we stay.”

Aether sniffed and nodded slowly. Mountain seemed like he wanted to resist further, but eventually huffed out a sigh, before turning to look at Swiss.

“So we leave then. Let the village destroy everything we've worked for, and hope it's not too late for Rain.”

Swiss nodded solemnly. “I don't see what else we can do. As long as we sit here, I see only nothingness ahead. We can camp out somewhere, and decide what to do from there.”

“We were wanderers before, we can do it again.�� Aether whispered, getting to his feet. Swiss felt bad for pushing him when he seemed so close to cracking apart, but there was a clock ticking over their heads for as long as they stayed here.

“Let's pack up and leave, the sooner we get out of here the better, for us as well as Rain.”

Mountain reluctantly agreed, albeit with a scowl. “If Dew wants to take his chances on his own, he's welcome to.”

~~~~~~~

By the time Dew reached the nearest stables, his ankle was already screaming at him again in pain. Aether’s magic could only do so much, and Dew had pushed it past its limits. He had skirted round to the eastern edge of town, heading for the main path that led away from the village and up to the cold northern shores. The constant pounding of his footfalls against the dry and cracked earth made shooting pains lance up his calf with every step, and he cursed himself for pushing it so hard even once he was out of view of the farmhouse.

The sun was beginning to set, so Dew sat down under the leafy canopy of a tree to watch and wait until it was darker. The stables were old, leaning against a sandy-coloured stone building that looked as though it had been standing since humans first walked the earth. Still, it seemed cosy inside, the smell of dinner wafting out of the chimney alongside the curl of smoke from the fire. His stomach growled at him, the tempting aroma reminding him of how limited his own rations were. Dew saw the farmer emerge to call in his dog for supper and used the distraction to make a run for the stalls where the horses were kept.

Entering the lean-to building, the dark chestnut horse nearest the entrance looked over the half-door at Dew with curiosity in their dark eyes. Further into the outbuilding, a dappled grey horse bared their large teeth at him with a snort. Dew didn’t have a death wish, so he snatched a blanket and saddle from the wall and began tacking up the chestnut horse. The final hurdle was the thick chain connecting the horse’s halter to an iron ring in the wall which Dew easily melted through. The horse whinnied nervously at the smell of smouldering metal, but was easily placated by a gentle stroke to their nose. Dew grabbed a few more items he thought could be useful and filled the horse's saddlebags, stuffing his own knapsack in on top.

As quietly as he could with all the brass tack jangling, Dew led the horse outside. She, he deduced, waited patiently next to a mounting block for him to scramble inelegantly into the saddle. Checking over his shoulder that he hadn’t been spotted, he gently nudged the horse to begin walking out of the yard, back onto the road. She snorted anxiously at travelling in the near-dark, but Dew kept the pace slow and encouraged her gently, one step at a time.

He knew there was a river a few miles out from here, and shelter that was well hidden from the path. It was out here where Aether and Mountain had found him, after all. The deep green trees full of summer leaves formed a canopy overhead, and the path was soft underfoot from those leaves that had fallen early. In the twilight, Dew finally spotted the small clearing alongside the river that he was looking for, and the camouflaging greenery at the edge of it.

Dew encouraged the horse to drink from the stream, before retreating to the cover of the thick shrubbery. Looping a length of rope he had stolen around a tree trunk, Dew tethered the horse to it for the night. He emptied the fistfuls of hay he had also taken onto the grass in front of her, before settling down under the saddle blanket in the shadow of the bushes. Dew always rose with the sun, and then they would be on their way.

The next morning while the sky was still pale grey, Dew was on his way further north towards the only salvation for Rain and the pack that he could think of. The horse beneath him trotted along happily as he ate his meagre breakfast of dried meat and water in the saddle. He was making good pace, travelling with a well-bred horse and a slight knowledge of the paths. It was a stark difference from when he had made the same journey in reverse all those years before. Then, he had been on foot, exhausted, and any plan beyond survival had been long abandoned.

Dew thought back on his old life as they travelled, on the many previous chapters he had tried to supress. Back to his early life as a kit; unloved and used as a pawn in his mother's mind-games. He had never known his father, the water ghoul long gone by the time Dewdrop was old enough to walk and talk. Even his mother, a fire ghoul born to parents with strict views on elemental purity, had only known him superficially before he left.

An act of youthful rebellion, her brief romance with a water ghoul had ended shortly after Dew's birth when he fled back to his original clan. Ghouls inherited their elements from their mothers so the fire kit was raised amongst his own, but with a conspicuous water ghoul name that made him stand out as a target. As Dew had gotten older he had realised just how much resentment his mother had for him, and how he had ruined her young and flighty life. The realisation that his existence was merely a tool to further antagonise his grandparents had made his decision clear and Dewdrop had left his home clan as early as possible.

Life hadn't gotten much easier from there. A young ghoul, alone in the wilderness, Dew weakly struggled onwards following a faint mixed ghoulish scent towards what he hoped was a friendly clan. After several hungry and cold months of wandering, he had found himself outside a grand Abbey on the northern coast, the tall oak doors with carvings of the elemental symbols daring him to ring the brass bell nearby.

The tall air ghoulette who answered his call wore a warm face, in contrast with her militaristic uniform. She had led him inside by the hand, bringing him to a room brightly lit by candlelight, with a roaring fire in the hearth. She'd brought him food, water and a blanket, even offering to help brush the tangles out of his long hair. Dew had wondered if he was so exhausted that he was hallucinating; he'd never been shown this kind of care in his life. The gentle fingers on his scalp were sending him to sleep, when there was a quiet knock at the door.

“Come in Lus, we have a guest!” called the ghoulette softly, setting down the hairbrush.

Another ghoulette entered, wearing the same black uniform. Her white-blond hair bounced round her shoulders like a cloud, and she had the same caring smile.

“Hello!” she'd dimpled at him, “I heard of your arrival on the winds, what's your name?”

"Dewdrop, Ma’am.”

She pulled a face at the formality of his reply, her peal of laughter sounding like bells chiming in the wind. “That's quite enough of that! Call me Cumulus. I hope Cirrus is taking good care of you?”

Dewdrop nodded shyly, letting his hair fall in front of his face to hide from her inquisitive blue eyes.

“Great! I'll tell Copia that the new ghoulette is settling in well, he can't wait to meet you!” Before Dew had a chance to correct her, she'd spun around and flounced back out of the room.

Dew knew all too well what he looked like, knew what he smelled like to other ghouls, but it still stung. He hated what his physical vessel implied; especially after the months of malnutrition and living in the woods. His increasingly skinny, bird-like frame didn't exactly scream big tough ghoul, nor did the security curtain of long blond hair he hid behind. They had seen what they thought was a young ghoulette, alone and scared on their doorstep, and Dew had done nothing to correct them. Still, it hurt.

Dew bit his tongue for now – he was too grateful for the hot meal and promise of a warm bed after so long outside to jeopardize his place here, if ghouls weren't welcome. He had spent so many years of his earlier life denying who he was, and having received easy acceptance among his birth clan once he had told them, he had gone and thrown all of that away to go and starve in the woods. How selfish. Maybe he deserved to suffer a bit longer, he thought, for running off and being so utterly useless at life that he had become a burden, yet again.

Smelling the anxiety rolling off him, Cirrus started purring reassuringly and picked up the hairbrush again.

“Don't worry, Copia's no one to be afraid of. He probably just wants to see if he can recruit you into the choir!”

Dewdrop stayed quiet and let her calmly braid his hair with precise fingers. The warmth of the fire continued to seep into his bones, and he felt his strength returning. Soon, he could be on his way again and this would just be another in a strong of upsetting memories.

From that day forward, the pair of air ghoulettes had treated Dew like one of their own. They showed him to a small room, sparse but cosy, and told him he could stay as long as he liked. Over the coming weeks as he recovered – slower than he would have liked – Dew had discovered that the Abbey was a safe haven for those without pack or clan, those persecuted by the humans they walked amongst, and even just those who wanted to learn about and spread the Dark Lord's word. Run by a distinctly ghoulish-scented human, who Dewdrop suspected might be more similar to him that the man realised, they spread His message through song, and housed the largest library of unholy texts Dew had ever seen.

Eventually, he'd found there were other ghouls around, not only ghoulettes, although they were fewer in number. Every day, Dew thought about correcting them, telling the air ghoulettes that he was actually a fire ghoul, but every day something stopped him. They’d done so much for him since he had arrived; from the start they had treated him like pack, and he knew deep down they would most likely take the information well. Dewdrop felt like he’d gained two older sisters to watch over him and guide him in this new life, and he couldn’t stand the thought of admitting that he’d been lying to them the whole time. The voices in his head telling him he was pathetic for not managing life outside without starving were the same ones that screamed him how he would be betraying their trust, having waited so long now to say anything.

Living at the Abbey could be wonderful, he would be stupid not to see that: if he could just come clean and inform them that he was actually a ghoul, and not a ghoulette, he knew he could make a good life here. He sang with their choir, the euphoric feeling of praising Him with music nothing like he’d ever experienced before. The library too, was a new discovery to him. The librarian, a water ghoulette called Mist, had taken a shine to him and helped him decipher some of the oldest texts. Dew had never felt such a kinship with a water ghoul before, and his curiosity about her, and by extension what his own father may have been like drew him closer to her.

With Mist’s help, Dew learned a great deal from the library. From some basic knowledge about what plants he could forage and how to set traps for small animals, he had progressed to reading ancient tomes on ghouls and their nature. He learned how to adjust his scent and mask his more ghoulette-like features; how to craft the changes to his form he so desperately wanted. He studied hard until he was able to bind them to him, much like the chosen glamour all ghouls wore around humans. Mist directed him through the maze of bookshelves with practiced ease, and recommended texts with a confidence that he thought could only have come from prior experience.

Despite Cumulus, Cirrus and Mist’s unwavering care and support, Dew felt himself nearing a breaking point. The longer he stayed, the more he felt like his lies were swirling endlessly around him. The spiral descent into self-loathing felt unstoppable, like the easier option was to just leave and take his lies with him. It became clear to him that he would not be able to stay here, and stay sane. Although he was still weakened from his previous attempt at a solo wandering lifestyle, Dew trusted in his new-found knowledge to keep him safe.

He could not have been more wrong. Dew had told no one he was leaving, simply slipping out the main gate into the early morning fog. He’d walked for miles, the freshly-healed blisters on his feet ripping back open and the damp air penetrating every fold of his clothes, sapping the infernal heat from his body. Even with his painstakingly copied diagrams, his traps failed. He’d read pages and pages on edible plants, but recognised next to none amongst the flora that grew along his path. Try with all his might, Dew hadn’t succeeded in catching a single fish.

A few weeks into his slow and painful trudge south, Dewdrop found himself following a river. He’d come across a few human encampments along the way, stealing food from them when he could, making tea from leaves and bark to fill his stomach, but was empty-handed and starving again by the time he reached a small clearing edged by tall shrubs and trees. He sat behind the bushes, watching the road. Dew had no strength left to hunt, so he curled up to desperately hope a foolish traveller would make a camp he could steal from in the clearing in front of him.

There was no other way out for him now; he’d waited too long and travelled too far to make it back to the Abbey with his tail between his legs, either he would steal food for one more day, or he would starve. Dew didn’t want to be returned to the pit like that: he had heard of it happening, ghouls who failed to take care of themselves being pulled back to His realms, but he was scared. He only knew life on the surface and, as painful as it was, it was home.

Dew hugged his knees to his chest and tried not to cry. He’d failed at everything; thrown his best chance at life away and for what? To starve alone in the woods. As his sniffed back tears, he felt a strange scent tickle the back of his throat. It was sharp like the air before a thunderstorm, yet calming like lavender and chamomile. He took a deeper breath. There it was again, and behind it the deep, earthy smell of damp forest floors, cut through with the lively, resinous scent of pine sap. Dew felt the hairs stand up along the back of his neck, and a tingling in the base of his glamoured horns. Could it be… other ghouls?

He stumbled to his feet, using the last of his energy to force out a submissive, non-threatening scent. Dew started tracking the scent, following it down to the river’s edge where he could smell it drifting downwind from the north. Had they been following him? He hunkered down in a defensive couch, in case the ghoul, or ghouls, were hostile. Dew heard them before he saw them, a pair of male voices carried towards him on the breeze. He locked on to the sound like it was a lifeline. They sounded casual, relaxed.

Two tall ghouls came into view, although they looked distinctly human with their glamours in place. They paused at the edge of the clearing, going silent as they clearly smelled Dew before they spotted him. Dew huddled to the ground suppressing a shiver, from cold or fear he wasn't sure. Quiet voices drifted towards him,

“Is that a ghoul?”

"Maybe a kit? They look tiny...”

Dew tried to keep his eyes glued to their feet as they cautiously moved closer, not wanting to look like he was challenging the much larger ghouls. An involuntary hiss escaped his lips at their approach making the pair pause slightly and look at each other, having some kind of unspoken conversation.

“He's all skin and bones, look at him he's terrified!” The slightly shorter of the two, a quintessence ghoul, exclaimed and broke away to move even closer with his hands outstretched, palms up like approaching a wild animal. Dew raised his eyes to take in more of the ghoul, and was struck by the kindness he saw in his facial expression.

Warm violet eyes crinkled down at him in concern, the only ghoulish feature on his disguised, yet weathered face. Dew made no move to stand; his legs felt disconnected from his body. The quintessence ghoul offered him a smile, as he joined Dew in a crouch on the ground.

“You’re not a kit, are you.” he stated. “But you do look like you need some help. I’m Aether, and this is Mountain,” he gestured at the earth ghoul who was still hovering awkwardly a few paces back, “what’s your name?”

“Dewdrop.” His voice cracked with disuse, ripping its way out of his throat.

“Well Dewdrop, let’s start by getting some food into you, shall we?”

Dew nodded guardedly, hardly believing the pair were real. The odds of meeting other ghouls, and friendly ones at that, were minuscule compared to the likelihood that they were merely the hallucinations of his desperate brain. With some more coaxing and a pair of strong arms, Aether helped him to his unsteady feet. The earth ghoul, Mountain, fished around in his pack and produced some rations for him to eat, while Aether unfolded a blanket from his own to wrap around Dew’s shoulders. He thanked them in a whisper.

“We live close by, if you’ll let us take you there?” Aether asked. Dew looked at him warily, before answering haltingly,

“I- I don’t know how much further I can walk.” he admitted. Everything about the pair seemed trustworthy so far, but they were still strangers, and could probably overpower him with a single finger in his current state.

“Nonsense,” Aether cracked an encouraging smile, “Mount can carry you!” The aforementioned ghoul made a show of flexing his arms as Dew turned to him, sceptical. Following them was one thing, but being willingly carried off to their den?

“Don’t look at me like that, little one,” the earth ghoul smirked, “my pack weighs more than you!”

That was precisely what Dew was worried about. Still, he didn't think he had many other options in his current state, and at least with the small amount of bread now in his stomach he might now have the strength to burn them with his element if he found himself in danger.

The journey in Mountain’s strong arms went by in a blur, as Dew tried not to think how pathetic he had become, to need to be carried like a kit. Dew saw them pass a stables, and then a montage of farmhouses and hedgerows that all blended into one as the gentle rocking motion began to lull him into unconsciousness. The earth ghoul was warm, warmer than he should have felt to Dew as a fire ghoul, but he slowly felt his own temperature recovering as they travelled. For the first time in a long while, Dew found himself beginning to feel almost safe.

The pair had brought him into their own farmhouse, a place that was sparsely occupied yet homely, in the way only long-time dwellings could be. Quintessence and – especially – earth ghouls were known to be solitary and nomadic beings, yet these two had clearly absorbed the best of the human creature comforts available to them. They soon had Dew warming up under a pile of plush furs and blankets in front of a roaring fire, recharging his dwindling internal heat. Fire ghouls were greatly valued for their ability to keep themselves and others warm in even the harshest conditions, providing they were healthy themselves, yet as soon as they became hungry or tired their internal fire was the first thing to suffer and could be challenging to reignite.

Mountain had brought him a bowl of warming soup, the light broth gentle on his stomach, while Aether sat nearby funnelling healing magic into Dew’s weak frame. In spite of their gentle care and kind actions, Dew found himself growing suspicious of how willing they had been to help him and invite him into their den and let him remain there. In his experience, lone ghouls never let a stranger encroach on their space without a reason: dens were for pack, potential mates, and prey. Then again, the ghouls seemed to go against every other expectation Dew held, by travelling together despite clearly not being mates and living in such close proximity to humans and their civilisation. Dew resolved to stay alert, and see what ulterior motive the ghouls had, if any.

Over the following weeks, things began to settle into a routine. Dew was feeling much stronger, and had moved into an empty room within the ghouls' farmhouse. He had to admit, they seemed to have a nice life out here. He'd seen the way they intermingled with the human population of the nearby village, how they had gained their trust. As far as Dew's desire for a fresh start was concerned, he seemed to be doing well. Neither Mountain or Aether had asked any questions about his past or why he had come to be starving and alone in the woods, and it didn't seem like it mattered to them.

Dew had learned that they had found him while returning from a week-long hunting trip. They had both been solitary ghouls for many years before meeting each other, and had bonded initially through a more transactional relationship as lookouts and allies before later becoming friends. For the moment, they had paused their transient lifestyle to see how a more settled existence would suit them, while still striving to keep their own survival and hunting skills fresh should they decide to move on. Mountain and Aether were clearly both more pack-oriented than usual for their elemental types, yet they were still independent, strong ghouls.

A month in however, they were still treating Dew with kid gloves. He knew he was perfectly capable of many things and was a quick learner despite his apparent ineptitude with survival skills, and it irked him that he was barely left alone with his thoughts. After Aether had insisted on joining him on his walk for the umpteenth time that week Dew had become snippy, reminding him that he wasn't a kit and could easily pace a lap of the field without his hand being held. Dew knew that his hot-and-cold attitude hadn't helped his integration into their lives, and Mountain especially had been suspicious of him for several more months. They were just trying to help a fellow ghoul – and a young one at that – not get returned to the pit due to their own incompetence, and Dew seemed to be plain ungrateful at times.

Dew wondered what they must think of him now; as he rode as hard as he could northwards and away from the village. He had to come alone, that was clear to him, and the others would have never let him go by himself if he had stuck around longer to tell them his plan. They must think he had abandoned them, selfishly escaping and leaving them to face Rain's fate and the village's wrath alone. They must be cursing his name; agreeing on what a pathetic excuse for a packmate he was, leaving their youngest hung out to dry in his time of need. Dew had never been the perfect packmate, he knew that, and at every step he'd let them down.

Mountain and Aether had bonded so quickly with Swiss when he arrived; rolling into the tavern one night, and into their lives and house the next, and then again with Rain when he arrived. With Swiss it was understandable that he would have a closer kinship with the older ghouls as they all had experience with the outdoor travelling lifestyle, and had a greater shared history of experiences. With Rain however, he and Dew had arrived in almost identical circumstances. Both were young and unused to the harshness of the world, both having been weakened by it. Aether had clearly tried to push them together, seeing the opportunity for both of the relatively withdrawn and private ghouls to find a meaningful bond with each other. Dew had never given Rain a chance however and had pushed him away, once again leaving Aether and Mountain to pick up the slack of introducing a new ghoul to their unique way of living.

Dew only hoped that he wasn’t too late to make amends, and wouldn’t be too late to save Rain. Only now, with the threat of losing them hanging over his head, did Dew realize exactly what was at stake and how much his pack meant to him. He hadn’t had a detailed plan when he took off towards the Abbey and was no closer to forming one now, but if anyone could help him find a way out of this mess for Rain, it was Copia and the ghoulettes. With knowledge well beyond his human years, perhaps he would know of an extra powerful incantation, one which could smite the village while leaving the ghouls intact. Maybe Mist could help them locate such a spell in the library, or a way for Rain to cheat death despite the mob’s murderous intentions? Dew was certain the five of them, regardless of their magic, wouldn’t stand a chance at saving Rain and escaping with an entire village baying for blood otherwise.

On the evening of the second hard day of travel, both Dew and the horse were tired and hungry. Dew had stolen food and hay when he could, but they were both beginning to flag. As they turned a bend in the road, the curling spire of the Abbey rose from the darkening treetops in front of them. It drew closer and closer, and Dew felt his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He was scared of returning after so long, scared of the reception he would receive after the way he left. The Dewdrop of before had been too proud to ask for help and yet too desperate to assert himself, he had allowed himself to be squeezed into the box of their expectations to the detriment of his very identity and his happiness.

This time however, Dew was a different ghoul. He had grown in confidence through the kindness of his pack, and would allow himself to take up space. Most importantly, Dew had something which had been so sorely lacking in his life before: purpose. He had a pack to save, a reason to face his fears, and the determination to right the mistakes of his past.

As the horse skidded to a halt outside the imposing oak doors of the Abbey that he had sworn never to see again, he was finally prepared to do something he had never done in his life before. Dewdrop was going to ask for help.

[redlanternz]

junkrat's horrible terrible top scars that make it really obvious whoever did that did NOT know what they were doing vs roadhog's NON OP HUUUGE BOOBS!

[red-dye40]

it would be bad of me to wear new rocks to six flags right

[aethernalstars]

Height dysphoria not in the sense that I feel like less of my gender for being tall but height dysphoria in the sense that I feel too tall for physical affection. I'm so much taller than my wyfe that hugs are a little awkward with me bending down to hug them. And I'm always the big spoon. A girl wants to be held sometimes, you know?

[gonzoinamaskandcape]

someone will make a joke about how short they are and i instantly become aware of the fact that im wearing thicker shoes than them and if i took them off the size would uhhhhh not make them the shortest in the room anymore

[thelasthalloween]

Ah yes dysphoria my old friend

[sacrilegious-skeletal-scribe]

a knife to the floor, a swear between teeth (hubris, meet euphoria)

those concerned bystanding/ demand answers/

the second your tongue laced back into something they recognized/

offered smiles/ that glinted like evenly spaced fluorescent lights/

like the state-sponsored buzz of light bars and vomit/

you said it burned/ 

because that was the first word you could grate your teeth across/ without gagging/

they told you it felt like fire/ like ash/

that it must’ve charred your insides/ poor soul/

turned those softredpinks/ to bleedyellowpus/

they might’ve even been correct/

if fire feels like lightning/ and jagged metal/ and a conduit between heavens/

if the concept of fire is flexible enough/ to convey a bolt of the sky itself/

that slammed through your spine and refused to let go/

if ash/ is the correct word form for the gummy surety that blaze left behind/

something holy and agonizing seethed through your body/

and all that is left is debris/ and cold grey viscera/

you are clearly a patient/ in need of a hospital and supervision/

who better to asses your body then overworked strangers/

you wouldn’t want the news vultures to get ahold of your address/

assure the bloated ticks/ with microphones taped to their mouths/

there is a question on the tip of your tongue/ when the spotlights start to shift/

a knot of syllables/ that renders little more than perfunctory attention/

as dead eyes settle/ into knobs and bedsprings and what’s left of your blinds/

when the tangled sheets halfway down your throat really start to make a fuss/

burning still isn’t the right word though/ is it?

unless fire can feel like the back trail of an ice cube/

like a cool hollow/ the space between sunrises/

where insistence likes to scrabble toward the roof of bleeding mouths/

it feels like death/ like a barrel of roaches climbing over each other/ 

climbing over you/ climbing towards that refrigerated terror/ 

pain and fear and vomit thawing under the excited eye of a fresh-faced moon/

the cool loam of being waterboarded with pond scum/

the average weight of a lifespan slipping down your throat faster than your gag reflex can buck/

a horrid parasite/ content to curl in your stomach and subsume all that falls above it/

it feels like the worst eight hours of your life/

but keep that description to yourself/ in case of future use/

night’s still young/ after all/

scream until your anguish echoes back/

having filled the sky and found no other direction but back down/

let your chest empty in as many ways as you can manage/

turn that churning cavern to the air between the notes/

to black space in a packed theater house/

let silence define the edges of noise/

darkness is color and only the ocean could tell you otherwise/

find the depth within core metals and molten rocks and decompression sickness/

anticipation spoiling the dread already laced in exhaustion/

as much as lead could ever poison mercury/

let the poison reach your tongue and find surface tension/

let it dribble to the concrete/ without form/

no bear trap/ no lantern-fish/

just stomach bile/

past and future/

wander into the pool once the drains have swallowed all there was to take/

as tiles reach air for the first time in millennia/

and try not to scream when the lights kiss low fog/

lay against water-smoothed rock/ and breathe/

feel your limbs drag across sand/ and cement/ and breathe/

the stars were always a threat/ but they aren’t for you/

you need not breed fear for the silence/ the vast and empty/

it presses in only as greeting/ a directionless hello/

from the gash between the whole/ the filled/

the nowoncealways broken/

the hissing vacant/

whatever its worst qualities/ the hollow between orbits is not cruel/

fill a rusting pot/ and drown your callouses in pine needles/

but don’t take that waiting eye from your stove/

a saucepan of burnt water has little to fear of the hole behind your clavicle/

and the mess on your floor can’t seep into your cabinets by itself/

force the volume higher until your teeth ache with it/ until the air starts to claw at your chest/ 

beating its way into any cavern big enough to hold it/

let it scrabble and tear/ until the landlord slides out from the nest in your kidneys/

and really starts to writhe/ trying to cry and scream its way past the sheer noise/

let it peel back skin until somebody’s throat goes out/

burning really skews the pull of ash and crumbling teeth/

pulls at the edges of spotlight burns/ heat and pus and dangerorangecaputuredsun/

that lapped up cave paintings/ killed fields and devoured trees/

but what else is there/

the owner of those shrieking nerve endings is not known for their brevity/

and fire is nothing if not succinct//

[new-wave-worm]

funny how transmedicalists will call trans people that dont align with their perception of transness extremely bigoted insults targeting said transness. its almost as if theyre... dare I say it... transphobic

[bloomburnburial]

.

[curiously-a-dreamer]

I guess this is a me problem but gosh it rubs me the wrong way when I’m looking for transition related resources and I have to read through slogs of people labeling fairly neutral (and occasionally somewhat feminine) things as being extremely feminine or womanly or whatever. Like I really do get that dsyphoria is hard but man I wish people would be more normal on posts that people are using to get help

[hgfictionwriter]

Discovery: Part Two

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's nervous about a date at your apartment. Despite enjoying the evening and a chance to talk, she's left with lingering doubts about how to handle your evolving relationship.

Warnings: G!P content. Body image issues or even dysphoria; mental and emotional anxiety; internal conflicts; themes of self-acceptance. Reluctant gaslighting??

A/N: Thank you all for the interest in this piece. Still heavy on the angst here. Things will move more significantly in the next chapter. First chapter is here.

"Hey, for Saturday I was thinking of making us reservations at that new place on Greenwood. What do you think?"

"That sounds nice. But I was thinking maybe you could just come over instead. I'll make us dinner. We've been going out a lot and while it's fun to check out new places and it's sweet of you to plan all these dates, I miss our chill nights in."

A pit formed in Jessie's stomach upon reading your message. It was inevitable, really. You two couldn't have an entire relationship outside of your apartments. In fact, this whole going out every week thing was draining for her, but it was the lesser evil compared to hanging out at either of your places and what would, eventually, follow.

She ran a hand through her hair with a sigh.

"Yeah, sure. That's fine." She paused, staring at the message before exhaling in frustration. What a lackluster response. She deleted it.

What you were offering was legitimately what she wanted. She had the most fun when it was just you two, relaxed and in the comfort of your own homes. Just, now, there would be nothing relaxing about it. It would be coded with all sort of hints and allusions to something more now that you were dating. That tentative dance of will you, won't you, and when.

"That sounds great. What do you want me to bring?"

"Just yourself 😉"

Her shoulders slumped with a sigh. She should be excited. Instead, her mind ran rampant with thoughts and scenarios, each one more concerning than the last.

Through the rest of the week, she couldn't quite shake that weight in the pit of her stomach. Sometimes she forgot about it, but as soon as she had space to think or rest, worry came rushing back.

"Still want me to come over?"

Jessie hit send though she was standing at her bike already, helmet on and ready to go. And it's not like she wanted you to cancel. She really wanted to see you, but she was so torn.

"Yes lol. Of course I do. Been looking forward to it all week!"

Her chest panged and another text came through.

"Do you want to do something else?"

Now she really felt bad.

"No, no. Just checking. Just about to hop on my bike. I'll be over soon, then 😊"

"Sounds good. Ride safe."

Jessie's heart was racing as she shifted anxiously from one foot to the next as she rode the elevator up to your apartment. She looked down at the bouquet of flowers she picked up along the way and shook out a hand as she let her head fall back and she stared vacantly up at the ceiling.

"Calm down," she said to herself.

Soon, she stood tentatively in front of your door, hand poised to knock. She stood there frozen for a second before she brought her knuckles to the door. She fidgeted with the straps of her helmet and the paper around the bouquet as she waited.

A few seconds later the door opened to reveal your smiling face. Despite how she was feeling a second ago, the veil of worry that weighed on her dissipated upon seeing you. She couldn't help but smile back.

"Come in," you said cheerfully as you waved her inside before your eyes fell to the flowers. Distracted by seeing you, Jessie momentarily forgot about them and glanced down to follow your gaze.

"Oh," she voiced in belated realization before she smiled brightly and held them out. "For you."

You gave a wide smile and took them from her, smelling them and smiling once more before wrapping her up in a hug.

Her grip around you was slack to begin with, but when you held her tightly she found herself reciprocating. Her chest tightened as she held you close; she really missed you and it was a relief to hold you in her arms again. She felt herself relaxing a touch.

When you pulled your head away from her, you two locked eyes.

"I missed you," you said. Jessie felt a small blush forming and she gave you a coy smile.

"I missed you, too."

Her eyes closed as you gently closed in and soon your lips were on hers. It was chaste and sweet, but it sent a shiver down her spine and she couldn't help smiling into the kiss. Her heart warmed as she opened her eyes to see you smiling affectionately at her as your hand came to her cheek and gave her other a peck.

"Okay, let's get inside. And thank you for these, they're beautiful," you said as you ushered her in and closed the door. "Gosh. It feels like you haven't been over in ages. I guess you haven't - not since we started dating."

"Yeah," Jessie agreed with a faint laugh as she scratched the back of her head, nervousness starting to creep back in. She tried to remain relaxed as you stood close to her.

"Make yourself at home. Dinner should be ready soon."

Jessie followed you with her eyes as you returned to the kitchen and found a home for the flowers. She was lost in her thoughts before shaking her head out.

"Can I help with anything?"

You looked around briefly with the cutest frown on your face before giving a shrug.

"I guess you can get some plates and cutlery out."

She did so, carefully laying everything out before returning to the kitchen and standing awkwardly waiting for further instructions.

"Go sit down," you laughed as you shooed her away.

"No, let me help you," she insisted, a smile finding its way onto her lips, your mannerisms infectious.

You placed your hands on your hips and cocked your head at her. "Fine. Go get me these things," you unlocked your phone and handed it to her with a recipe on screen. You nodded to the pantry cupboard. "The shaker's in there. I saw this on a mixology account I follow and wanted to make us some tonight."

"Oh," Jessie voiced as she looked at the drink recipe. "Tequila?"

"Don't tell me you're scared of a shot of tequila," you teased lightly. "I thought some of you varsity athletes partied hard - especially in LA."

"Yeah, some," she emphasized as she scanned the cupboard for the items.

"You don't have to drink anything if you don't want to," you added. She gave you a fleeting look over her shoulder before returning with the supplies.

"It's fine," she said. "I'll try it."

It's not that she never drank, she enjoyed a relaxing beverage as much as the next person, but alcohol seemed like a dangerous thing given her current circumstances. However, perhaps it would take the edge off.

She started measuring out ingredients into the shaker and sealed it before shaking it all together. You looked back and gave her a not-so-subtle look of appreciation as your eyes fell to her biceps. You even reached out and gave her nearest arm a brief squeeze.

"Oh," you said with a quick raise of your eyebrows, a hint of a smile at the corner of your mouth before you turned away. Jessie blushed under your attention.

"For you," she announced after she poured out the drinks and handed you your glass.

She smiled softly as you cheers each other and took a sip. You both immediately winced and she started coughing at the overwhelming taste of alcohol.

"Shit," Jessie coughed, her eyes started to water.

You burst into laughter, but took another tentative sip.

"They are not joking with these drinks. Either that or you're heavy handed," you teased.

"I measured!" She insisted.

The drink certainly took the edge off for Jessie. By the time you were done dinner and settled into watching a movie together, her body was void of tension and her head still felt a bit light.

It wasn't long before fleeting pangs of concern started to edge in though. You two had watched shows and hung out on the couch together before, that wasn't the big deal, but as Jessie became acutely aware of your hand brushing up against hers, she found herself fidgeting lightly. She cleared her throat.

She tried to view you out of the corner of her eye and got the sense you were doing the same. Eventually, you took charge and slipped your fingers between hers, giving her hand a light squeeze. She turned and gave you a tight smile that caused your cheeks to grow flush.

While you'd both been quietly watching the movie, now you started to talk - making comments about the movie or other things. She responded softly as you chatted, cluing in that you were nervous and trying to distract to some degree. Soon, your clasped hands were resting on Jessie's thigh as you leaned into her, eventually resting your head on her shoulder.

Her heart started to pound with increasing intensity in her chest. She cursed inwardly. This shouldn't be a big fucking deal. She wanted to cuddle with you. She wanted to put her arm around you and pull you close. But it was the possibility of what would follow that had her wary.

She completely lost track of the movie, fully preoccupied with what to do. She was so conflicted. You drew small circles on her thigh and at one point laid a soft kiss on her shoulder. She cast her worries aside and lifted her arm to wrap around your shoulders. A rush of affection went through her as she caught the smile on your face as you cuddled in.

If she hadn't forgotten about the movie earlier, it was certainly forgotten now as you grew more handsy. Jessie tried to not appear affected, but her body was so tense in apprehension; she just didn't know how to relax.

When your lips suddenly made soft, sweet contact with her neck. Her free hand dug into the underside of her leg as she fought to remain indifferent. Your lips were sensual and teasing, your breath hot on her neck and she could feel sensations building within her and threatening to spill over. When your tongue grazed the sensitive skin of her neck she instinctively jerked away, fully breaking away from the embrace. She'd done it before she even realized it. An apologetic frown etched onto her face already before even seeing you.

That pit in her stomach hit deeper than ever when she saw the hurt and embarrassed look on your face, even if it was just for a second before you quickly masked it.

"Sorry," you said with a forced smile and a breathy laugh.

"No, I-" Jessie stammered, struggling to find her words. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess and she could just picture the pathetic look she was giving you. You forced another chuckle and tucked your hair behind your ear self-consciously.

"No, no. I'm sorry. Must be that heavy pour," you faintly joked, forcing a fleeting look. You straightened your posture and seemed to recenter yourself. You looked to her, earnest. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have pushed. I think I just-" you paused, collecting your thoughts, "I think I just thought you were being, I don't know, really...chivalrous? Or just shy. I don't know." Your face fell briefly before offering her a brave, half-hearted smile. "You clearly want to take it slow, and I should respect that. I do respect that."

Jessie turned to you, shifting on the couch to face you more fully.

"Hey, don't apologize. Seriously. It's completely okay," she assured you. You looked far from comforted, so she reached out and took your hands. Your grip was nearly non-existent until she gave you a squeeze and you mustered up a soft smile and squeezed back.

"Y-yeah, I do want to take things slow, and it doesn't help that I'm super awkward and shy," she said self-deprecatingly. "But please don't feel bad. I'm just...I'm awkward."

You made a slight face at her.

"I made you uncomfortable," you countered.

"I liked it," Jessie said, and it was absolutely true. "I just," she looked away briefly as she found her words, "I just want you to know that I'm interested in more than just physical with you." That wasn't a lie either.

You frowned deeply and your mouth quirked up in a smirk. "I think I sorted that out," you said somewhat flatly. You seemed to contemplate your words, choosing to move forward. "You know. After going on five dates and having barely kissed."

Jessie could feel her face start to heat up and her mouth felt dry. While she struggled to figure out what to say, you scratched at the back of your neck and spoke further.

"I don't know. Maybe it's in my head. You seem less comfortable with me now than before we started dating." You relaxed your shoulders, taking a breath as you sat straight and gave her an earnest smile. "I really like you, Jessie. And I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, at all, so. If there's something I'm doing that's making you feel like that - you know, other than trying to make out with you unprompted-" you rolled your eyes, "please tell me. I don't want to push you away."

Jessie's jaw was clenched hard and she didn't realize her fingers were digging into her palms. She hated that she was making you feel this way and making you doubt yourself, and her.

"Y/N," she said your name imploringly, "I really like you, too. Please believe me. I really, really do." She searched your eyes, hating the hurt and uncertainty she'd sparked in you. Her shoulders fell and she thumbed the back of your hands softly. "I haven't dated in a long time. I don't really know what I'm doing. And I think I'm just in my head. I don't want to mess things up with you."

Your gaze softened and you gave her hands a light squeeze.

"You're not messing anything up. And, it's good that we're talking this through. I think that's really good and I'm grateful for it," you told her and she nodded readily.

"Hey," she said softly as she shuffled in closer to you. "I really like you. Please don't doubt that. Even if I'm being stupid. Thank you for being patient with me."

You gave a faint frown. "You don't need to thank me. Nor are you stupid."

"Mm, I'm kind of dumb," she said as she gave you a comical expression. You chuckled, but frowned further. She smiled at you. "I have this gorgeous, incredible girlfriend and I'm getting so stuck in my head that I'm making her think I don't feel the same way about her as she does about me."

You rolled your eyes briefly, but looked at her in thanks nonetheless.

"You're not dumb."

"Mm," she voiced further as she slowly leaned in. She whispered, "I kind of am," before her lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Though you reciprocated, it was passive. Tentative.

Jessie kissed you anew, deepening it. Something she hadn't initiated before. Your reaction was delayed. She could almost feel the confusion and hesitation, but she stayed the course. Her hand came up to the side of your face, her thumb caressing your cheekbone and she kissed you more. You met her briefly, but paused, your hand coming up to her cheek, your forehead resting against hers as you broke the kiss.

"Wait - we don't have to do this," you said, opening your eyes and looking at her.

"I want to," she assured you as she kissed you again. And she did want it. And she didn't want her fear and apprehension to control her.

This time, you returned her kiss fully. Whereas all of the kisses between you two had been relatively tame and mild, now, with Jessie opening up just so, things were heating up quickly.

Kisses deepened and grew hungrier, breathing was heavier; soft, subtle moans starting, and hands began to wander.

Jessie was immersed in the moment, in you, before a tightening sensation in her pants brought reality crashing back down upon her.

Her eyes shot open and she became keenly aware of your hand drifting up her thigh. She cleared her throat and did her best to gently pull back without it seeming too abrupt. She forced a smile as your eyes belatedly drifted open and you blinked at her, confusion settling on your brow. She shifted away, positioning her body as best she could to conceal the bulge that was threatening to reveal itself.

"That was really nice," she said, trying to somehow feign that the make out session had reached its natural end.

"Um, yeah," you said slowly, a subtle frown still on your face and Jessie could see your mind trying to process what happened. You eventually offered a smile of your own. "Yeah. That was nice," you reciprocated. Your eyes studied her.

"Do you want something to drink?" Jessie asked as she got up from the couch and turned her back to you, already retreating to the kitchen. She released an inaudible sigh of relief as she rounded the counter and out of your view. She opened your fridge and glanced down. She ground her teeth together upon seeing the bulge in her pants.

"Fuck," she mouthed, upset with herself.

She peeked up over the fridge door to look at you again. You were looking vacantly at the wall before you realized she was watching you. Your expression immediately brightened and you gave a small shake of your head.

"I'm okay, thank you."

Guilt washed over her again.

The night wore on and though you both cuddled and it was less awkward than before, there were still hints of unspoken tension. That aside, it was a nice evening and Jessie was glad to have this alone time with you. It was just different than being out together.

At some point, you were both stifling yawns. She was keenly aware of the time and knew another key point in the night was fast approaching.

"If I'm exhausted, I can't imagine how tired you must be," you said as you covered your mouth as another yawn forced itself up. "You just got back into town on Monday, training all week, game yesterday and now today."

"I'm good," Jessie dismissed, despite the yawn yours pulled out of her. "But I should probably go."

You watched her quietly for a moment, before giving a nonchalant shrug.

"It's really late. I don't want you to have to bike home at this hour. Why don't you just spend the night?"

Jessie was shaking her head already and stood up by the time you were even done speaking. She waved off your offer.

"It's totally fine," she assured you.

"Babe," you beseeched, giving her pause. It still caused a small flutter in her chest when you called her that. She faltered, rubbing the side of her face briefly. You rose. "I can sleep on the couch," you offered and she shot you a withering look.

"Babe," she reciprocated. "You would never sleep on the couch on my watch. I would take the couch."

You didn't respond immediately and Jessie felt like you were going to say something else, instead saying, "Well, offer still stands. I really would rather you not go home this late."

She was tempted. God, she was so tempted. Again, it ate her up that you were paying for all of the baggage she now carried. In another time, she would've gladly taken you up on the offer. Hell, you two probably would've slept together by now - assuming you wanted to. She'd certainly dreamt of it enough and you seemed keen to move things forward. Instead...

"Thanks baby. But it's okay. Really. I'll text you when I get home." She tried to ignore the expression that flashed across your face before you gave a small smile of resignation.

"Be safe," you warned.

She put on her shoes, grabbed her helmet and jacket, but was fully distracted with how quiet you'd become. She put on a bright smile for you.

"Thank you for an amazing night," she said as she wrapped your arms around your waist. You reciprocated, wrapping your arms around the back of her neck, but you hesitated for just a moment. It was subtle, but Jessie noticed it. She gave you a kiss in hopes of bridging whatever thoughts you were having.

"Thanks for being okay just staying in. I enjoyed it," you said once you pulled back. Your gaze flicked away and a faint smirk crossed your face. You looked back to her, your cheeks growing rosy. "I swear I didn't invite you over just to try to make out with you or to try to convince you to spend the night." You shrugged. "I just like spending time just the two of us at home. It's more relaxed." Jessie nodded.

"I know. Me too," she agreed. Her tactic of booking dates around town had expired; she'd have to let it go. She gave you an encouraging smile. "We can do this more often."

"Okay," you accepted with a nod. You gave her another quick kiss. "Well, you better go."

"Okay," she said. She started to thumb the small of your back and stopped immediately. "Goodnight." She stepped out of your embrace and opened the door, taking a step out into the hall before pausing and turning back. "Raincheck on spending the night?"

Your smile reached your eyes this time. You nodded. "Of course."

A/N: Forgot a couple of folks asked to be tagged. @multifandomlesbianic @marvelwomen-simp

[esmeblaze]

But she steps backwards again, and manoeuvres them both into a complicated circle, and she seems, for the moment, content. Almost-still, her usual frenetic energy gone, the stench of her divinity faded into the background behind sandalwood soap and rose perfume. Two hatchlings, curled into one another beneath the floor of a church. … Above their heads, he hears the low rumble of the Oratrice coming to life, as if it has decided they need music — as if its master has decided the world is waltzing, and so it cannot help but take part.

— Tails From the Court by longk

this fic has everything: dragon dysphoria, high heels, the delicate and uncertain balance of pre-canon neuvillette and furina still trying to figure each other out… go read it (and the other fic in the series rn) and understand the inherent tenderness of being wobbly little sea creatures finding their footing together