Efelion

Creative Writer///Australian Socials -Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/xefelionx.bsky.social -Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@EfelionOfficial

[efelion]

Writeblr Intro

Tag Walls, Punch Fascists.

Who Am I?

Hey, I’m Effy (he/they) Writer of philosophical and existential fiction — the kind that digs under the surface of things like found family, and asks deeper questions about capitalism, humanity, identity, and the systems that shape us.

About Me

🛹 I like 90s baggy clothes, happy hardcore, street culture, and the kind of art you find on the side of a building. political, alive. 🖍️ I’m into philosophy, activism, and anything that challenges the status quo. 🌏 I’m Australian. 📚 I’m currently working, but writing is the dream — not just as a job, but as a tool to tell stories that matter.

About My Writing

Genres: YA and NA, usually some flavor of sci-fi or fantasy — cyberpunk, near-future, steampunk, etc. Themes: Always deeper than the surface. I write stories that ask why and how, not just what if. Tropes? I’m not sure I follow them. I build what the story needs. 📖 I only write original work, with hopes to publish someday.

Current WIP

🧬 Abnormalities – Set in a near-future society, Abnormalities explores what really happens when people start developing abilities beyond human limits. It’s not about powers — it’s about systems, consequences, fear, control, and survival. How would governments react? What rights would be stripped? Who gets to be “normal” in the first place?

A story that tackles systemic oppression, moral gray areas, and the line between human and tool.

🧠 printf("Soul") – In a decaying future, neural ports offer an escape into endless virtual worlds, where the mind drifts free and the body is left behind. Ghosts—human consciousness trapped without a physical form—haunt the digital depths. When reality becomes unbearable, what separates a soul from a program, a person from a memory?

A story that questions the nature of humanity, identity, and reality itself — and how easily we abandon the truth for a dream when the world outside falls apart.

About This Blog

This is my main and only blog. Expect: snippets, inspirations, probably a few long rambles about worldbuilding, identity, and writing as rebellion. I might reblog aesthetics too, but mostly — this space is for connecting with other writers and sharing the process.

Interaction & Community

✅ Tag me in things (I may not know what’s going on but I’ll vibe with it) 📭 Inbox is open 🌀 I'm an introverted extrovert online — sometimes quiet, sometimes chatty, always open to connection 💬 I’m definitely looking for Writeblr friends, so if you're working on something cool, I’d love to hear about it.

[efelion]

Solidarity

I've been rather busy between work and also working on books, etc. In saying this, however, I wish to show my solidarity with the people of California during the current invasion that you, as a state, are facing from a fascist government. I feel (even before this) for the people being abducted by ICE, and although I am Australian, I wish I could be there on the front line. It's fucked to see so many families torn apart for simply a skin colour. It's fucked to see those fighting for fundamental human rights being hit with rubber bullets and tear gas. All I can say is—at least on a personal level—those on the front line deserve nothing less than honours for standing up for the downtrodden.

From the land down under, know this: we, as a country (yes, even the conservatives here), see this as fascism, plain and simple. Stay strong, and if you ever need someone to talk to from the outside, to validate your contributions to the betterment of society, tell me, and I'll rush to remind you of what you are fighting for. I might be asleep, but I promise I'm here to steelman you where I can.

Stay strong, resist fascism, and protect your people.

[writing-with-melon]

Setup: immaculate

Ending: planned

Middle: vibes and visions hanging on a wet string and held together by duct tape.

[efelion]

How every single one of my WIPs currently are. This must be a writer's curse.

[efelion]

The Loss Of Meaning

The more I read and learn, the more I realise that art is dying—but not in the way most people expect. It isn't that artists have stopped creating. Instead, capitalism has embedded itself so deeply into the arts that the only things being produced now are what will make the most money.

Movies are no longer made to be interesting or bold. Instead, we get Marvel movie number 301, which is just another rehash of a rehash. Books aren't sold for their themes or the ideas they explore on a deeper level, but for their potential to be adapted into a Netflix series. There are countless examples across every art form, but those two come to mind first.

This isn't the fault of creatives, and it doesn't mean a story must have more meaning than its plot. The problem lies with publishers and studios who chase trends without considering long-term value. It lies with companies prioritising growth and profit margins over consistency or integrity, as if staying steady is somehow a failure.

A huge part of creativity has been sacrificed in the name of profit. Real artwork now exists primarily in online spaces, ignored and overlooked, when it deserves attention and appreciation. Watching some of the most beautiful things be cast aside for the sake of shares and revenue is disheartening.

This isn't a critique of writers who want to tell a good story or experiment with style. There's nothing wrong with that. The real issue is the industry pushing everything else out, not because it's bad, but because it isn't immediately profitable.

[glassfrogforest]

[efelion]

Feel this in my soul.

[efelion]

How Capitalism Killed Subculture and Sold You the Skin

Subcultures didn’t emerge from style, they came out of pressure. Punk wasn’t a haircut or a pose. It was a scream choked out of kids who knew they were never going to be welcomed into the clean parts of society. Hip hop wasn’t a trend, it was survival. Language built in the ruins of American neglect, rhythm stitched from broken sound systems and blackout silence. Rave wasn’t neon aesthetics. It was defiance in motion, a refusal to sit still, to stay quiet, to accept the boredom of submission.

They weren’t hobbies. They were countercultures, born from resistance, trauma, and need. Answers to a world that refused to make space for the people inside them.

But capitalism doesn’t need to outlaw resistance when it can defang it instead. It doesn’t kill subculture, it harvests it. It strips the rage, keeps the fashion. It sells the aesthetic but buries the meaning. Punk becomes a mall tee. Hip hop becomes a playlist with all the politics gutted. Rave gets branded and fenced in with ticket prices and corporate lighting rigs. Every movement that once said “We will not become what you want us to be” gets rewritten to say “Buy this if you want to look like you’re not like them.”

And most people don’t even notice that it happened.

But some of us do. Not because we were first, or better, or more real. But because we remember what it felt like when it meant something. When every jacket, tag, tape, or track wasn’t a costume, it was a message. A lifeline. A declaration.

If you’ve ever scrolled past the polished, pretty versions and felt like something was missing, like the air in the room was wrong, you’re not imagining it. You’re not broken. You’re remembering something you never got the chance to hold.

[efelion]

The Truth About the State’s Monopoly on Violence

Cops aren’t neutral. They’re the weaponized fist of the state’s violence monopoly, and every one of them chooses to swing it. They don’t have to enjoy it to be complicit. Enforcing amoral law with obedient violence doesn’t make them civil, it makes them collaborators. Evil isn’t always snarling, sometimes it just wears a badge and calls it order.

Obedience to amoral law isn’t neutrality, it’s evil. Every cop’s a class traitor. The badge just makes it official.

Fuck the state.

Fuck amoral sociopaths.