Boy: A Trans Poem

Boy: A Trans Poem

"You can't possibly call yourself a boy in that outfit, are you serious?"

"If you really want to be a boy or whatever, you should join the military, show everyone you're not part of the freak show."

"What are you, a fucking lesbian?"

"Boys don't wear makeup, you should wash it off."

"You like cooking? Ha-ha, fag."

"Why don't you have a girlfriend yet?"

"Come on, stop crying and stick your chin out."

"Be a man."

"You should beat up that guy, show him who's boss."

"Don't call yourself pretty. Say handsome instead. Pretty is a girl word."

If I'm neither, then what do I call myself?

"Dyke."

"Faggot."

"Wuss."

"Tranny."

"Trap."

"Pussy."

"Fop."

"Whore."

"If you want to look manly, you'd better start working out."

"The girls can grab shields. Boys - take it like a man."

"Can't you just say you're a girl? Things will be complicated otherwise."

"If you want them to like you, ditch the silver suit, you look gay."

"Why aren't you having sex yet? Don't you wanna be a stud?"

"Men are providers. Do you really think you can provide for a family one day?"

"Chest out, shoulders back. Slumping makes you look like a girl."

"Boys don't play with dolls, why haven't you thrown those away yet?"

"You will never be a boy, no matter what."

Me

served my duty as an autistic artist and made a bunch of autism creature reaction images

i updated it due to current happenings

edit: FUCKING REBLOG IT. LIKES DONT MEAN SHIT!

Alastor and Lucifer: *fighting*

Lucifer: HOLD IT!!

Lucifer: Say Alastor, why we fighting again?

Alastor: Uhh because we’re not supposed to?

Lucifer: Oh right!

Alastor and Lucifer: *continue fighting*

it possessed me I had to

Orange Eyes, Blue Eyes: a Short Story

Aeryn didn’t remember anything.

Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t want to.

All he knew was that his head spun like a roundabout and he couldn’t move his left hand at all. He had remembered at some point that he had lost his hand, but always seemed to forget once again. The infirmary room was usually dark, allowing him to sleep, but anytime he opened his eyes they were their own source of light. The Majesty had told him about this - apparently the eyes were supposed to glow when he felt strong emotions. That made sense - all he could feel lately was a pounding sense of dread, surely inflicted upon him by the memories he couldn’t quite reach.

Andromeda visited him sometimes. She talked to him quietly about things that happened outside, soothing him to sleep with her voice. She was always so good at that - she was the only one who could put him to sleep as a young child, even better than their parents. He couldn’t ever find the strength to answer her, but her voice put him to fitful but blessed sleep every time.

Sydney visited too, but they were different. They rarely came to see him, but when they did they would come in crying, and they would apologize a million times over for not being able to protect him. They would hug him, and he would hug them back. And then, they would just sit there. He didn’t mind - it was comforting to have them there, even in their bitterly anguished silence. He knew Sydney loved him and Andromeda - ‘more than life itself,’ they had confessed in a hushed tone the night after the fire.

Aeryn didn’t know how long it had been since the nightmare had happened. He rarely even knew what time it was. All there was were the soft bedsheets and the slowly resurfacing memories that he couldn’t want less, and the stark sense of lacking where his left hand should be.

Eventually, he regained his voice. It wasn’t that it had ever been gone, really, but speaking had been just too much effort. But finally he was strong enough to speak. Andromeda was delighted to finally hear him speak, but her happiness had an undertone of desolation.

“Why are you sad?” he asked curiously, feeling disconnected but still wondering what was upsetting his sister.

There was a pause, as the air changed.

“You’re a different person now,” she told him, voice breaking. “I can hear it in your voice. She hurt you badly, I knew that… but I still kind of hoped that I’d… have my baby brother back.”

Soon, they told him he could go home. He barely remembered the walk, accompanied by Andromeda, to their small apartment. She had brought him his coat but he was still shaking, keeping his hood up and his head down for sheer anxiety. As soon as they were home, he collapsed into bed and didn’t wake up til the next morning.

When he woke up, Andromeda was next to him. She sat at the edge of the bed, reading her book. There was a slice of avocado toast on the bedside table, still warm. It was ironic - a throwback only the two of them could understand; how their mother used to wake them up on their birthdays as kids. They’d wake up and she’d be there, with a smile, a plate and a gift box in indigo or scarlet. But now it was Andromeda sitting there at the end of the bed, and the atmosphere felt somber, mourning the loss of the young boy that Aeryn felt so disconnected from ever being.

“I made you something,” she said, putting away the book robotically. As Aeryn’s eyes wandered to the toast, she shook her head. “No, not that. But you can have that while I explain.”

He reached for the plate with his left hand, but his heart dropped as he remembered. He cursed himself for forgetting - it was an all-too-common experience nowadays.

“Um…”

Andromeda noticed. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry… I forgot.”

She helped him get the plate in his lap, before bending down to grab something from the floor. “Actually, this is to help with that. If you’ll accept it, that is…” She held out the object to him, with a kind of solemn pride in her work.

It was a hand. Well, sort of. It was made of metal, and appeared to have clawed fingers. There was a band with holes in it at the wrist area, with corresponding hooks - a beltlike feature. In the center of the back of the hand was an orange gem - he recognized it as a Magykal power gem, a Firestone.

“Is this… for me?” he breathed, looking into Andromeda’s eyes. She nodded, eyes sparking in cerulean for a second. “It’s to help you function better. I can show you how to put it on, if you like…”

The brief blue light in her eyes reminded him of something, making him flinch. However, she didn't seem to notice. Trying not to let on his feelings, he nodded enthusiastically, shoving the last of the toast into his mouth and wiping his hand. Andromeda laughed shakily - he hadn’t realized how nervous she was until now. “All right, hold out your- uh…”

Aeryn nodded, understanding her and holding out his handless arm. She carefully slid the hand-thing onto him, fastening the belt part tightly around his wrist. She looked at him expectantly. “So…?”

He blinked back tears. He wasn’t sure if they were tears of happiness or sadness, but he collapsed into his sister’s arms anyway.

“Thank you…”

Aeryn didn't leave the house for a bit. People were constantly knocking on the door, asking to come in and see him, but Andromeda kept them out. She was the only one he saw for two weeks… which would have been nice, had it not been for her eyes. Those damn eyes, that whenever they flashed blue took him right back to his cell, back to the shackles turning his wrists and ankles raw, back to the blood, the pain, the fear, her icy touch that he still feared so much…

Andromeda couldn't help it, he knew. It was a physical response, akin to quickening and slowing blood pressure - did that make it better, or worse? To know that Andromeda, his sister, his protector… the one he loved and trusted most… was related, even so distantly, to that monster. He knew it wasn't her fault - he knew she could see the fear in his eyes every time, and he knew that new pair of sunglasses she'd gotten weren't a coincidence. He appreciated her efforts, but she couldn't understand. He knew she'd never know what it was like to have nightmares every night, making him afraid to sleep… to jump at loud noises, especially screams… to hate knives, hate them so much, to the point where he refused to be in the kitchen while Andromeda cooked… to be terrified of his own sister, for sharing a simple physicality with the woman who'd maimed him physically and emotionally… to constantly feel unclean, tainted, as if the blood and ichor had never washed off, as if he'd never be clean again…

He used to love makeup and women's clothes. People called him "Drag Show" and "Twinkie" and a good deal of more unsavory words, but he would simply laugh and make a snappy comeback. Nowadays, he couldn't seem to bring himself to even touch the containers of eyeshadow and lipstick, let alone the red dress he'd been wearing that day.

He didn't want anything to do with the outside world. Only Andromeda and Sydney mattered right now - everyone else was a needless energy sap. Sometimes Sydney came to visit; he dimly remembered opening the door on day eight of being home, to them standing on the doorstep, shuffling awkwardly in their chunky heels with a plate of cookies in their hands. "I brought you something…" they'd said nervously, "think of it as a 'sorry-about-your-hand' gift," they added as their mouth stretched into a shaky grin.

That wasn't the last time Sydney visited - eventually, they came over nearly every day. Aeryn felt comforted by their chatty, energetic, anxious presence, though they weren't nearly as calming and motherly as Andromeda was. Eventually, however, they decided to ask the question he had been dreading.

As the laughter from a hilariously bad joke faded away, Sydney looked away from Aeryn nervously. An awkward silence filled the room, only to be broken by a small but weighted sentence.

"What… happened there? To you, I mean."

Aeryn's breath hitched, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to dispel the memories that were all of a sudden vivid again. He had hoped to wait a bit longer to deal with this. Unwittingly, he let out a small cry of discomfort, at which Sydney took their cue to wrap their arms around him. And he wept, and he told them everything, spilling the worst three days of his life out into his best friend's loving arms.

Sydney was horrified. In hushed tones they expressed their sorrow, fingers digging into his back as they hugged him like they'd never let go. They offered to avenge him, in true Sydney Dorcha fashion, but he shook his head no, shaking now. And they nodded solemnly, holding him as he collapsed into sobs.

Andromeda came into the room and saw them, muffling a gasp. She ran to the bed and wrapped her arms around both of them, burying her face in Aeryn's back.

The three of them fell asleep there, on his bed.

When Aeryn felt well enough to go outside, it was fall. People were rushing to gather food and find places to preserve it, but some still spared him a glance.

"Aeryn!" His head jerked up at the sound of a joyful, vaguely Scottish accent squealing his name. A small woman in an orange prairie dress bounded up, strawberry-blonde curls bouncing - a longtime acquaintance of his, Vinnie. She threw herself at him, enveloping him in a huge hug. He let out a growl, jerking away automatically, but she didn't seem to notice. She looked up at him, beaming with happiness. "We thought you would die in that bed of yours, boy!" she exclaimed, releasing him. "Glad to see ya back at last! We'll catch up later!" She twirled away, leaving him panting from the shock. As his eyes, briefly glowing orange from surprise, faded back to a calm brown, he sighed and continued his walk.

The leaves were beautiful, coating the ground with reds and oranges, yellows and browns. Though the wind blew, causing the red scarf Sydney had lent him to flutter, it was warm that day, and the sunlight was calming. Aeryn found a low tree branch and attempted to climb into it - only to fall with a yelp as his shiny prosthetic hand slipped off the bark. "Dang it," he muttered.

He tried again, digging the sharpened fingertips into the bark. This time he managed to pull himself into the tree, boots scrabbling against the trunk, and sat down on the branch with a sigh of satisfaction.

He remembered the day the war came to them. Andromeda had been sitting in a tree in the yard, and he had climbed up after her to tease her… Sydney had jumped up and grabbed his waist, tackling him to the ground as the three of them all laughed. Aeryn smiled at the memory, but then a pang of sadness hit him when he remembered that that tree had been destroyed in the fire, during the attack later that day.

He sighed, and jumped down from his branch. He was tired now. He wanted to go home.

People accosted him every time he went out, asking him where he'd been, when he'd be performing again, why nobody had seen him in so long, how losing his hand felt… and of course, some were laughing at him. Some made fun of him. Said he deserved it. Saying it wasn't a big deal, what she'd done to him. It made him sick. Andromeda always comforted him after this happened, and Sydney made sure to discipline his harassers - and suffice it to say that the same people rarely came after him twice. Aeryn was grateful.

A few days afterwards, he was out for a walk when he heard a shout. Three men were following him.

Aeryn attempted to ignore them, walking faster. But it was difficult, as they were laughing at him, making fun of him for his hurt - and he was becoming more annoyed, rage bubbling up as their words cut deeper.

"You're a guy, you obviously could've taken her. Like, what's the problem? She was a water guild, you're a fire guild - what, was she just that sexy, or something?"

And at those words, he snapped.

Before he knew it, his right hand had snapped out just like he'd been taught, smashing one man's nose. As the attacker yelled in pain, stumbling back, Aeryn whirled around to face the other two with a grinning snarl. From there, he remembered nothing.

When he came to, he was lying in the infirmary, the healer holding a piece of ice to his eye. She seemed to notice his free eye blink open, but didn't speak. They sat in awkward silence for a bit.

"So… you finally clocked those morons one?" she said finally, removing the ice from his eye and placing it in a tray. He nodded, sitting up. "Good for you," the healer continued, her back turned to him now as she fussed with something on the counter. "You don't deserve that."

He grunted, stretching. "Yeah… those guys were being jerks, so…" He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, swinging his feet absentmindedly. "What did I do?"

The healer sucked her teeth. "Well, uh… let's just say that it wasn't nice. They're in the other room right now. One of them's still out cold."

"Good," Aeryn said, surprised by the viciousness in his own voice. He hadn't felt or sounded very willful at all for a long time. Huh… maybe he was starting to get himself back.

Aeryn smiled. It was time to get back in business.

He started training again, learning to fight with the prosthetic. He learned to adjust the fingers before a fight, so he could punch, stab, deflect, or power up without moving the fingers. He started lifting weights again, getting stronger. He went back to Sydney's hand-to-hand combat training, as well as joining a new class offered by the Majesty for Magykal youth. And slowly, he began to build back his confidence. When he proudly showed his friends his growing muscles, Sydney whistled. “Dang, if I looked like that I'd have so many-” Andromeda elbowed them.

Soon, he was ready to go back on the battlefield. Andromeda protested, not wanting to risk her baby brother again, but was overruled. And soon, Aeryn was going back to war.

The night before his first strike, he was going over his training in his mind, reminding himself of the tips he’d been given by Andromeda and his instructors as to how to fight with his hand. Confident in himself, he put out the candle and settled himself into bed.

And then, it hit him.

She would be there.

Suddenly, he was wracked with anxiety. How could he have made such a mistake? If he went back to war, he’d have to face everyone - unless she’d died in the meantime, but he was sure someone would have told him if she was gone. Maybe he should just stay home… be safe…

No. He couldn’t let her keep him down. She’d already taken enough from him, he couldn’t let her take his confidence and his autonomy as well.

Turning over in bed, he was now more determined than ever.

He’d go into battle tomorrow. And he would win.

“Take that!"

As he sunk his metal claws into an enemy, throwing them to the ground, he twirled around - and caught a glimpse of a pair of all-too-familiar eyes.

Blue eyes.

His breath stopped completely, head spinning with fear. All of his instincts were suddenly in hyperdrive, urging him to run, get out, get to safety-

Twenty feet away was her. That woman, that face that he saw in his nightmares, still wearing the exact same cyan lolita dress she had on the day that she hurt him. The same huge, shining, hand-stealing cleaver still in her hands…

He unfroze suddenly, running at her and crashing into her side, causing her to yelp as she was nearly knocked down. He kicked her in the chest hard, taking her down properly. As she screamed, the sound drew him in, wanting more of it. This was karma, he thought breathlessly, as he threw his whole weight down onto her chest. Twisting the knife out of her hands with his living hand, he choked her with the other. The sharpened tips cut into her flesh. For the first time ever, she looked terrified, and it filled him with a vengeful satisfaction. "G-get off," she choked, "please," she added, trying to appeal to the empathy they both knew she didn't share with him.

Aeryn gave a breathless, bitter laugh. "You know when else I heard those words?" he asked her, leaning harder on her neck.

"When you had me in the same position. And do you remember what you did?"

Her eyes flashed even brighter blue with fear.

The metal flashed too.

And then the cleaver was in her neck.

Aeryn stood, blood dripping from his metal hand, the prosthetic replacement for the one she'd taken from him - how ironic. He looked down at her, mouth open in a bitter smile.

"You laughed."

And with that, he kicked her dying body one last time, before turning and running back into the fray, leaving choking on her own blood the one who had taken his childhood.