writeblr. the writer goes by many names, some of which are crowley, halcyon, and sirius. 21. he/him. queer. punk. cryptid. writer. actor. here to try and be more regular about writing.
so iām revamping this blog. i need a fresh start, especially since all but one of my WIPs started because of my exes, and i canāt bear to think of them anymore.
iāll follow everybody over on the new one when i create it.
āYouāre still stressing out about that stupid graffiti?ā Delilah asked, winding a lock of chestnut blond hair around her fingers.
The words held no malice, only slight incredulity and perhaps a hint of confusion.
āI canāt explain it,ā Griffon replied, rolling his shoulders and tilting his neck from side to side in an attempt to soothe his sore muscles. He had been scouring Instagram posts of everyone in the town his friend lived in, desperate to find someone that seemed like the culprit committing the so-called crime. āLook, just be happy Iāve found something else to talk about beyond how shitty my parents are. Youāve gotta be sick of listening to me rant about them by now.ā
A long pause fell over the room before Delilah shrugged, smirking at him. āYeah. But I donāt want you to get hurt.ā
āHow would I get any more hurt than I am sitting at home with a dead-end job, transphobic parents, and no college degree?ā Griffon scoffed, tossing his phone down on the soft dandelion yellow sheets of Delilahās bed. āIf anything, having a new thing to focus on will be good for me. Not that hanging out with you isnāt great for my mood, but you know what I mean.ā
Delilah spent a few moments of moderate silence before replying, skipping songs on her phone until she decided on one that she wanted to play on the speakers. The warm voice of Billy Joel crooned into the room. āSure. I dunno. I justā¦ you know me. And you know YOU. Youāreā¦ yāknow. Kinda impulsive? And itās gotten you into messes before.ā
Despite wanting to argue, it would have fallen on deaf ears. Primarily because she was right. āI mean, hey. People who are too stupid to learn from their mistakes will forever repeat it, yeah? If Iām that stupid, Iām that stupid.ā
The only response he received was an exaggeratedly annoyed grumble, and the volume of the speakers being cranked up to full volume, blasting Billy Joelās My Life throughout the currently empty house.
The song had just ended when Griffonās phone rang. He stared at it, vibrating almost mockingly on the other side of the bed. Finally heaving a sigh, however, he reached out and picked it up, answering it just as Delilah shut off the music. āHello?ā
āBreanna, I told you to be home by five, and itās nearly six! What did we say about missing family suppertime? I thought--ā
āThatās not my name.ā Griffon set his jaw, gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes as his mother ranted on about his third repeat crime of not spending dinner with his parents.Ā
Outside of a dramatic, weary sigh,Ā his mother had no response to his retort. āCome home. Now. Youāre lucky your dad is too tired to be angry.ā
āOh yeah. So lucky,ā Griffon muttered. Without confirming or denying his plan of action, he hung up. One look at Delilah was all it took for her to catch on.
āParental units again?ā
āYeah. Pissed cause I didnāt show up for dinner.ā
āSorry if I distracted you.ā
āYou didnāt.ā Griffon slid off the bed and shoved his phone into the pocket of his leather jacket. āI knew what time dinner was. I justā¦ didnāt wanna go.ā He slung his backpack over his shoulder and gave his friend a tight hug. She patted his shoulder, saying nothing. Both of them knew what it felt like, to have parents who didnāt understand. āIāll see you later.ā
āYou better.ā Delilah lightly punched his shoulder and pushed him toward the bedroom door. āText me tonight, okay? After the storm passes. ācause itāll pass.ā
āI know.ā Griffon managed a slight smile. āI dunno when Iāll text you but I will at some point.ā
āPinky promise?ā She narrowed her eyes, hazel and rimmed with silvery eyeshadow.
āPinky promise.ā Griffon thrust his hand forward and quickly linked his pinky with hers before breaking away. āI better hurry though.ā
āSee you, Griff.ā
āSee you, Lilah.ā
It didnāt take him long to get home; despite his best friend living just a fifteen minute drive away, he made it in five. Legally? No. But it was just another item on the long list of things he didnāt care about in this town.
He made a beeline for the stairs in his parentsā two story home, ignoring the sound of his motherās voice calling him - or who she thought he was - from the kitchen. Taking the steps two at a time, he all but lunged for his bedroom door, the only one in the upstairs hall with a sign on it: one emblazoned unapologetically with CRIME SCENE: STAY OUT.
The curtains he had pinned all the way around his bed, creating a small cave of refuge, barely had time to still from his swift entrance before Griffon heard the door open. It was as if the sign saying to stay out didnāt exist. āHoney. You need to come down and eat something, stop sulking and start acting your age.ā
i didnāt reblog the original thread but itās a tag game to see where all of us differ on random decisions. when i love both equally theyāll both be bolded, if i dislike both (somehow), neither will be, and if i like one over the other itāll be bolded.
coffee or tea | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees | macarons or eclairs | typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens | masquerade ball or cocktail party
my love language is simple. i *hands you a mushroom sticker* *hands you a rock* *hands you a rock* *hands you a dried flower* *hands you a mushroom sticker* *hands you a twig* *hands you a leaf* *han
š»: have you ever seen a ghost?
š: if you could choose how youād die, would you? What would your ideal death be?
š½: do you Believe?
š: are eyes the window to the soulā¦or something else?
š¦: favorite creatures (real or myth) that go bump in the night?
š¦: are you a mothman fan?
š·: spider killer or catch and release?
š¾: ever found any suspicious footprints? if yes, what do you think they where? if no, do you believe in Bigfoot? why or why not?
š: do you believe the full moon has supernatural powers?
š±: do you believe in fortune tellers? have you ever trusted a magic 8 ball?
ā°ļø: whoās a dead person youād love to speak to? bonus points if thereās a conspiracy about them that says they arenāt dead! i.e. Elvis, Tupac, etc.
š¤: favorite cryptid?
Donāt judge me, I made this using Google Slides, and itās very vague since I wanted non-sci-fi wips to be able to do this. Wanted to join in on the fun, though!
I did this for my WIP Metanoia since itās the only one that would have practically any of the items on the board, and even then I still didnāt get a bingo, rip. XD This sounds like so much fun though!
so iāve been seeing lots of WIP bingos and stuff going around! iām too nervous to do the ones belonging to people Iām not mutuals with, but if any of my mutuals have done it, let me know so i can fill out the bingo. :3
āThere has to be something more. More than backwoods towns. More than the lives our parents settled for. More than what they want for us. Please. Come with me. We can explore the wonders of the world together.ā
welcome to yet another WIP that my chaotic brain has decided to work on. as always, i still donāt have a proper page for my WIPs yet. (please. someone help me with that.) but for now, if you wanna find more about this novel, it will be found under #wip: watercolour moon! as for the characters, so far all i have is #oc: griffon swaine and #oc: blaine lennox, but iāll be adding more as i come up with surnames!Ā if anyone wants to be added to a taglist, please let me know!Ā
genre: romance/coming of age, sort of. itās a mix.
status: in progress || outlining
pov: third person, possibly with switching viewpoints between two characters.
warnings (thus far): violence, varying sorts of abuse from both family and others, and thatās about it for now.
features: queer characters (a pansexual trans man and a questioning nonbinary person are the protagonists!), hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, found family, rebellion and delinquency, road trips, and a whole slew of other things.
In small towns, everyone has expectations. Graduate high school. Procure a job. Find a good husband or wife. Settle down. Create babies. And life goes on as it has forever. But what happens when someone realises thatās not all there is, and that the plans of parents and peers is not the path you have to take?
Griffon Swaine is a 23-year-old drowning beneath his parentsā expectations. They want him toĀ āgo back to being a girlā, to find a husband and a home, and have kids. Griffon, an aspiring writer and artist, has other ideas. He isnāt sure what those ideas are yet, only that thereās an entire world outside of his small town, and he wants to see it all.
Blaine Lennox. A 21-year-old seen by all in his backwoods town as a delinquent, a reject, someone with no addition to society. His parents threw him out, he has no job, and the only family member to talk to him is his cousin. He fights tooth and nail to survive, and to come to terms with his feelings on gender and sexuality. He expresses those feelings in music and graffiti, wondering if heāll ever find a reason for his existence.
The two donāt know each other and have never met, but like two comets colliding, they have no idea what will come.
When Griffon begins to see blue crescent moons showing up all over town - all in the same style, all graffiti, all in the oddest of places - he feels a connection to the symbol, and begins to hunt for answers that, for all he knows, may not exist.Ā
Who is painting these moons? When were they painted? And the one that intrigues him most: where is the one painting them?
Social media begins to give more answers that come with more questions. A friend from a town a hundred miles away posts a few photos on their Instagram featuring the same exact moon, and other art done in a very similar style. When Griffon asks if she knows who did it, she says she doesnāt, but that she sees that style of art all the time where sheās at.
So, Griffon makes a decision. It might be foolish, it might be useless, but he canāt fight off the feeling that maybe, just maybe, the adventures that exist outside of his hometown might just be calling to him through the paint.
He takes his car, and he begins to travel, and as he travels, he leaves his mark along walls and bus stations leading to the town his friend found the art in.Ā
That mark?
A blue crescent moon and a golden star and a simple inscription:
the following is the first page or so of a story i randomly thought of a few weeks ago. iāll be posting a moodboard shortly with more information, but until then, thereās a snippet below the cut.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The blue crescent moon showed up in few places, which made the mystery all the more fun to attempt to crack, at least for Griffon.
When he first saw it, it had been painted in watercolour shades of cerulean and azure on the walls of the bus station, lit by nothing but the fluorescant lights posted a few yards away to illuminate the paths for late night travelers.
It differed from the graffiti he found elsewhere in the small town. The usual fare consisted of dicks spray painted onto fences and barely legible text ranging from gang names to pleas directed to ex lovers.Ā
But thisā¦ this graffiti was different. Not just in the content of it, a crescent moon hanging at eye length on the walls, but the beauty of it. Whoever had painted it put thought into their movements, carefully traced out every detail of their art; they hadnāt sprayed it on in a hurry, head on a swivel to keep watch for security guards. No, there had been time put into this. Effort.Ā
Griffon had forgotten a bout the moon some time later; and then it showed up again. Emblazoned onto a wooden pallet that lay forgotten against a fence miles away from the bus station, the crescent moon practically glowed in the dawn light.Ā
It held the same details; the same trails of blue that trickled off the edges, the watercolour style of it allā¦ there was no doubt that the same person who had painted the first moon had painted this one as well.
Was it a calling card? The signature of a popular street artist? If that truly were the case, what would a street artist with any cred be doing in a small town like this?Ā
Griffonās friend, Delilah, insisted that he was overthinking it. There was no mystery here; just some kid with a newfound skill excitedly showing it off wherever they could.Ā
But he didnāt agree. The moon kept appearing; in the bus station, on the fence, on an old and faded neighbourhood sign, on the wall of the barbecue area at the local lake.
And months after the first āsightingā, Griffon saw the moon again; not gracing his boring town, but on the Instagram story of a friend who lived across the state.Ā
āFound this on the wall of a local churchā, the caption said. āAnother addition to the gorgeous street art I find around here!ā
Maybe Griffon was bored. Maybe he had tired of the constant fights between his parents at home. Or maybe something really did call to him from the curve of that crescent moon. Whatever the reason, he made it his mission to find the creator of the art. He had to know, and he wasnāt quite sure why; only that it felt important.
The title says it. Thereās an elephant in the room.
The elephant herein being the fact that I vanished for about two months, with nary a word to anyone, and have somehow worried people. Call it my crippling depression, but I didnāt really expect anyone to care.
As for said crippling depression, itās why I havenāt been around. December and January have been hellish months for me and full of hospital visits and mental breakdowns.
I wonāt go into the details but I wanna make an effort to be back, so! Here I am. Iāll post a snippet of something I wrote soon; itās the first page or so to a novel Iām hesitantly calling Watercolour Moons, about two people from small towns 100 miles apart from one another who find each other via the magick of street art and graffiti, and soon decide to leave their old towns in the dust and run away together!
With that said, thank you all for checking up on me, and tagging me in stuff regardless. I very much appreciate it. Hope all is well with you folks. <3
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