Trans Writers - Blog Posts

On being gay (a poem I regret writing for class)

I am afraid someone will know. I am afraid they will smell the rotten thing in my mouth, on my hands, between my legs.

I'd like to proclaim this rotting growth is dying under bigotry and insults. But I grew around hatred, leaving a hollow shape that looks like kids carrying signs they can't read, holidays for mass I get dirty looks at, "sodomite" the worst thing to be called. My parched broken pieces embrace all too eagerly the sweet poison that smells like cow shit and magnolia.

"What have you done to my little girl", the sentence hovers, unsaid, the knife that is yet to be thrown, that already left a hole in my stomach. "What have you done to my little girl," dad, I'm going back to Ithaca.

Beyond the sea are the best part of me, the haircuts head in the bathtub that stinks of cheap dye and the tattoos I wanted when I was eleven. Behind the sea it's New York in 86.

It's unfurnished apartments, empty cupboards. It's glitter and luxury just a five fingers discount away, envy like ice cube in the spine, anger towards all the honest people who don't convert prices into week-worth-of-groceries. It's sewing in a makeshift workshop when you don't know how to sew, under the careful guidance of a makeshift mother. It's the teeth, the biting, the original sin behind the masks of decency. It's ambition, desperate, relentless, bloody.

I see it, my Ithaca, on a stage in Marseille, and in Arial 12, black and white, on a flimsy piece of paper ; someone saw a man love someone like me and thought,

"This love needs glitter, warm lights and electric guitars."

This poem deserves a steady voice, precise gestures and a perfect mastery that gives an air of clumsiness. It is so sincere, so raw, that tenderness, it needs a ballet of smokes and lights.

Jean Genet loved Abdallah Bentaga and it's like a broken raft in my odyssey. Because I too am a painted creature obsessed with my own spectacle, and when Jean loves Abdallah, it's like he loved me too. 

Even if we need makeup to conquer the unthinkable, the grotesque of what we are. Even if our Venus got murdered on a moldy mattress in a cheap motel ; on stage, in front of a full audience, an old man almost touches an adonis. Even if a man lays with a man the way one lays with a woman, they both did something terrible. Even if we are out too late at night, we go home bruised or we don't go home ; on stage, in front of a full audience, an old man almost touches an adonis.

But maybe we are wrong and they are right to try to save us. Maybe God is real and he hates me. Maybe there is something profoundly treacherous and vile inside of me. Maybe I will have regrets and admit that Oh wasn't Troy that much better? Wasn't there in this time of bloodshed, some kind of comfort? Oh the honors, oh the glory!

But there is Philippe Torreton, at night, in the theater, under warm lights and glitter showers. And holy shit how hot are we, we the faggots, when we love each other on stage. How fabulous for a man to love an artist, how tender, for a man to love a boy trying to kill himself.

I recognized Ithaca when I picked my name. I disown her every time I introduce myself.

"Antharès? Where is that from? Is it greek?"

I answer well actually ehm basically it's it's a star in ehm a constellation and ehm well it shines brighter than the others.

Anthares, it's Trans, actually. Just like Noah, Aiden, Eliott, Alex, Sacha, Ariadne and Jasmine. To the mean laughter waiting to happen, that's the answer. It's trans, and when I picked it it was meant to be obvious. To tell the whole world, fuck the tides, fuck election day, fuck the groundswells, I'm going back to Ithaca.

Not as Captain, but as a half baked writer not old enough to be a fuck up yet, in all the the stain of my obsessive perfectionism, my obsessive ambition, my obsessive pessimism. In all the forbiddance of what happens in my bedroom.

I count the coins of my entertainer's allowance that I put in kraft envelopes for the black priest that will mutilate the divine feminine off of my body. And all of Ithaca's ghosts count with me. They smell of dirty streets and hospitals, they are made of glitter and seafoam. If they send me to hell I'll suck Lucifer's dick like it's the body of Christ and I'll know if angels are circumcised.

Michelangelo saw David in a marble cube, and he saw me too like I was always there. I sculpt the curve of my shoulders with a needle, the flat of my chest with a kitchen knife. I learn my voice and how I smell. I learn with the sweet words of the poets how you say sweet words to a man when you are a man. From boys I learn to be a boy, how to behave and what to say ; what is a man on stage on what do I need to do to be applauded.

I make myself with powders and push ups and birthday presents a body Argos will recognize. I was always there, like the flour before the bread, like the grapes before the wine, like the mud before the home. I am Pygmalion. I am Galatea. My hands are the divine creation. I am going back to Ithaca.

I have been running to you since my first step

I have been kissing you since my first kiss

My Ithaca

Shout out to my 7th grade reading teacher who was the first person to ever encourage my creative writing. He took one look at a kid who was struggling to find a way to communicate how much they were suffering, took a look at a mess of a short story they'd written in an attempt to convey all their big heavy feelings, and fully embraced them.

I constantly talked to him about writing and how to get better. I showed him everything I wrote. Sometimes, it was so I could have critiques. Sometimes, it was just so someone would tell me I'd done a good job. I needed that. He gave me a healthy goal to work towards.

I wish he hadn't just been a long-term sub. I wish I could have told him that I go by something different now. I think he'd really like what I'm writing these days.

Write👏trans👏essays👏

Write them. Just do it. Write essays asking questions about trans identities in media and literature. Write them about trans history and its impacts. Write them about scientific findings on trans identities. Write them about yourself! And your own trans experiences! It's a great way to examine your own thoughts on your identity.

Right now, when so many misconceptions on trans identities are being pushed onto us, I feel like we need these resources more than ever. Even if you don't think you can write, even if you think essays are boring. You don't have to share them with anyone, but just doing the research, answering questions for yourself about our existence and history is something I feel is worthwhile.

Don't let people tell you it's too controversial or that you're pulling something out of nothing. Write the essay.

Hello my little stars! I’m Hayden! and here’s what I will and will not write!

This will be added too over time

Will write

• fluff

• character x male!reader

• character x gender neutral!reader

• suggestive stuff (making out, etc)

• hurt with comfort

• angst

• FtM

• sometimes MtF

I won’t write

• Smut (this could change in the future)

• topics like self harm and suicide as those are triggering topics for me

• racist or homophobic shit.

• abuse or things like that to humans or animals

• piss and shit kinks and others like that

• Murder in detail

• Female readers YALL have enough content (respectfully of course)

Fandoms I will write for

• the little vampier (the newish animated one)

• Undertale (Aus as well)

• Yuurivoice

• TWST

• TMNT (rise, bayvers, 2012)

• Danganronpa

• ATWOW

• Avatar

• Obey me! Shall we date

• Arcana

• Gravity falls (platonic only for dipper and mable)

• The Black phone

• The lost boys (1987 movie)

I love you characters who dug themselves out of their own graves. I love you characters who won't let the narrative kill them. I love you characters who won't stay dead. I love you unburied gays I love you metaphors for transness I love

Writeblr Introduction

Dotted in secret stars and whispered moons lies The Warden O' Wyrd; too bright smiles and sharp eyes linger on her skin, miasma orbiting their visage. When dusk's hands sweep fluttering eyes closed her shackles, in turn, loosen.

Greetings and welcome all, I am Wardenwyrd - connoisseur of messy queers, the freaky & occult, and all things speculative fiction! I am freshly new to Writeblr and am keen to dig my claws so fellow denizens of Writeblr interact if you enjoy my vibes < 3

Open to ask and tag games !

◈What I write ◈

Anything and absolutely everything speculative, weird horror, all shapes and forms of queerness, and a metric ton of worldbuilding.

Genres: Fantasy (Low, high, dark, fairy tale-esque, etc), Sci-Fi, Paranormal, Romance, Horror, Mystery

Fantastical, often ethereal and treacherous worlds flavoured with flowery prose

Queer, neurodivergent, and disabled characters and themes. All kinds of diversity really. Always looking to broaden and grow my noggin' with wisdom

Gender queer characters. An UNBELIEVABLE amount of dyed hair and pronounces.

Body horror: elegant body horror; gross, grimy body horror; wonderfully queer body horror 'til I burst at the seams; all sorts. Twisting of the body into something other than human as a form of beauty my beloved < 3 < 3

Characters who desperately need therapy (That would be my fault)

Rich settings and worlds. Give me intricate magic systems !!! give me ecology that could be shown in a nature documentary !!!

🌔About Me 🌒

Goblin in my (late) teens. I've been writing for a whiiiile but started really getting into it about half a decade ago. I will ravenously consume all forms of creative media.

⭐Likes ⭐

Favourite colour: Purple my beloved Favourite band: Mili (I'm so normal about them) Favourite genre/s: Gothic lit, Fantasy, Horror romance, whimsical fairies Fav insect: Moths/Butterflies

Stats:

Creative writing college student

Panromantic Ace | Queering my gender to the max

English (Regrettably)

Autism kreachure

Revolving door of hyperfixations on science-y stuff

Purple hair (Not beating the stereotype allegations)

WIPs

[Note: I am very bad at deciding on WIP names]

Prisma

My surreal fantasy WIP comprised of a collection of different stories linked by a unifying setting.

Colour-Coded to the max. Each central story focuses on a character assigned a colour, differing in tone, POV, and focus. Main three are purple, blue, and red.

Literal becomes figurative, and figurative literal

Charms and incantations of old swirl in from afar, weaving our hands together with something much deeper than flesh – a curious sentiment oozing from the recesses of Damsel’s cloak as the feeling of moss and stone wove through my veins; cold and refreshing.

◉

‘What absurdity’, The Arbiter would think to himself. After all, those carmine red eyes of his delve into the primaeval madness: in their muddy depths lies the shivering madness - Fear. From fear is the knowledge wrenched from uncertainty and bloodshot eyes. Dread is the light; tugging on world-weary watchers. 

Sort of portal fantasy, sort of not. The stories in this WIP span across many eras and places, yet often find themselves connecting and mingling. Incredibly queer.

Main characters:

MC of Red, Jack Pronouns: He/Him Bnuuy ass trans Victorian boy. Pasty and WILL combust in the sun. Autism creature. He gets a himbo bf and sick asf t-surgery scars as a treat &lt; 3 Character Playlist

MC of Blue, Hel Pronouns: Any/All seemingly innocent girl but remove the innocent and girl part. Kind of an eldritch horror after a character arc but like, that's the good ending. So old surnames weren't a thing in the era they're from. Character Playlist

MC of Purple, Dorothea Pronouns: She/They Gatekeep, Gaslight, Girlboss. Autistic adhd precocious mess who WILL make it your problem. Genuinely manipulative but has great hair so it's fine. Character Playlist

Other notable mentions

[Note: I will elaborate on all of these later]

Witch WIP

My beloved blorbos < 3 Once I figure out how to frame and present it in a more refined way I like I shall be posting about this.

Personal & Cultural struggle within a fantasy context | Disability & Identity as a main theme | Aroace protagonist and Queerplatonic relationship | Magic inspired by folklore and myth | Found family

Low Fantasy setting in a somewhat alternate earth

Sprawling magic system

Conventional fantasy groups but with a spin: revamping those vibes

Witches aren't just funny flying women but genuinely inhuman creatures with spicy shit going on

Demons and angels but: demon is the colloquial term for a class of magical beasts characterised by dense essence, not like hell demons. Angels are living algorithms born from patterns and don't have an actual association to any gods.

MC Playlists:

Branwen | Ingram

Five Steps From Hell

Biblically Accurate Angelic-Flavoured paranormal apocalypse

Autistic MC

More horror oriented than action

Lots of vibes.

MC becoming something not very human, but they're more worried that they aren't worried too much about it

I've got some dastardly plans for this one. Vibes and atmosphere whilst the world falls apart and neurodivergence is a great combo.