As a transgender person, I spend a lot of time thinking about "gender-bent" things like the Fionna and Cake episode, or what would happen if the Doctor regenerated as a woman. In fact, I often feel like God's rule 63... This is how I always imagine gender-bender stories turning out. I hope you enjoy!
Marshall Lee laid completely still in his bed, none of his limbs touching one another. In the dark, his digital alarm clock was flashing at him like eyes: waiting, watching for all the things he despised. Maybe if he never moved again, he could forget the horrible pain of what was there that shouldn't be. Or what would never be a part of him.
He knew, at some point tonight, he'd have to get out of bed and take a shower. He had responsibilities. He had a life to live. But he couldn't face the moonlight. He couldn't face looking in the mirror and having to choke back the tears. What kind of man flinched at the sight of his naked body? He clenched his fists in frustration. He was a thousand years old. When was he going to grow out of this? He steeled himself and rolled out of bed. He should find a nice vampire girl to straighten himself out. He should call up Fiona, maybe.
Instead of going into the bathroom to shower and shake his nightmares, he shuffled to the fridge and pulled out a gallon of red ink, not bothering to fetch a cup. Not bothering to flick on the lights, either. He didn't even want to see himself clothed; the shower could wait until closer to dawn. He didn't need to be miserable this early in the night.
The nightmares he had had still weighed on his mind, even if he couldn't remember all the details. He picked up his guitar and started strumming, but like usual, he couldn't find any words for this particular feeling. All those times he had played with Fiona, or the Ice Queen, the chords had flowed out of him like warm sap from a tree, but this feeling evaporated all his creativity. But the heft of it in his hands was comforting, and for a long while, he just strummed. Slowly, something came bubbling out of his lips. His strumming intensified, almost becoming angry. But everything was in a minor key, undertones of sorrow flowing through like water.
Could I be pretty to you?
If my hair was long
and I wore a smile
would you take a second look?
Could I be happy with myself?
If my skin was smooth
and my lips were red
could I be stronger than I am?
Could I be heard by you?
If I stopped lying
to myself and everyone else
could I live the way I want?
I'm not Marshal Lee, I'm not Marshal Lee-
I want to be the Vampire Queen
He collapsed onto the couch in tears. True, sobbing, wet tears. His mental barrier had collapsed. He was confronted, head on, with the truth, and it fucking stung. It stung more than leaving home, more than being spurned by Prince Gumball. His voice was low when he sang it, but he still sung it. Out loud. He couldn't take it back.
He had finally admitted to himself what he had known his entire life. He had been a girl, a woman, always. Every time his Demon Queen mother patted him on his back and called him son, she had been wrong. And always would be. And now that he knew this, Marshal Lee knew he couldn't continue to live this lie.
He stood up, carefully depositing his precious axe-guitar on the couch. He had to pack. Now. It was time to call up Prince Gumball.