writingamongther0ses

[writingamongther0ses]

"Concept: we place a bee on the barrel of a weapon, stinger pointed out. I call it a beeyonet."

"Won't the enemy have to be too close for that to work? Not to mention the environmental cost of using those bees for warfare. This project is ridiculous."

"But sir, imagine how cool it would be: one bee for every soldier, like a grand swarm, and- and we could call our army a 'swarmy'!"

"That-- *long pause of quiet consideration* No."

"Your rejection sure stings, sir."

"Get out of my office already."

"Alright, excuse my beehaviour."

[writingamongther0ses]

EMERGENCY: PRIDE.2 7/17/25

0/54 please keep sharing and please consider d*donating been without my meds FIVE DAYS I'm going through bad withdrawal I've been on them since I turned 24. I have OCD, BPD and severe depression/ paranoia sometimes I have hallucinations which my meds help prevent & my physical health is bad my meds arent optional and on top of it all I'm going thru withdrawal

Our cupboard is empty I'm not asking for much. I know ppl are tired of this but we have ZERO choice. We have nothing for the kids to eat I'm not asking for much but I literally feeding 7, 2 kids & school is now out so no school meals. Please help me, a disabled autistic lesbian, take care of my family this disability pride. If ppl can just donate or reblog, I need any and all help, cause I've no other help. 1 dollar helps us so much just so u know every single bit helps. If 54 ppl each donated 1 dollar id reach my goal in no time

p3ypal: avatarerin

c3sh app: $avatarpyler

v3nmo: skiesofperiwinkle

k0fi: onedollopofsourcream

meal train (can donate money & gift cards for food, which we uh desperately need also safe way to donate, however takes 2-4 days to get money, idk about cards)

[writingamongther0ses]

power signalling

Kneeling.

Ordered to kneel as punishment or as a show of deference.

Shoved physically to the ground by hands on their shoulders, maybe a kick to the back of the knee.

Picking themself up off the ground but only getting as far as hands and knees.

Crawling because they haven't got the strength to stand anymore.

Dropping to their knees from exhaustion or despair.

Personal space.

Casually invading it.

Uninvited touch - from the deeply creepy to something as simple as a firm hand on the shoulder.

Standing too close - especially if taller or otherwise physically stronger.

Conversely, hurrying to get out of someone's way.

Eye contact.

Staring someone down. Who is the first to look away?

Averting eyes for one's social superiors. Trying to de-escalate by avoiding eye contact.

Too frightened or ashamed to look someone in the eye.

Insisting that someone maintain eye contact while you're talking to them. Insisting that someone never look you in the eye.

Singling someone out just by looking at them.

More generally, Attention.

The room falls quiet when they walk in.

Who cuts in, and who gets talked over. Ignoring those who are beneath your attention.

The excited attention given to the object of respect and idolization.

The careful, wary focus given to a potential threat.

Deliberately attending to something else to appear less threatening. Deliberately burying oneself in something else to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

Codified status behaviours.

Bowing to one's superiors. Bonus points if there are differentiated kinds of bowing for different status differentials.

Soldiers coming to attention when a superior officer comes.

Saluting. Who greets whom first?

Serving food in a particular order.

Standing up when a respected person enters the room.

Non-verbal threats.

Just resting a hand on a weapon, or perhaps even just near a weapon.

Cracking knuckles or rolling shoulders. Clenched fists. The little come-get-some-then life of the chin.

Stepping from a conversational stance into one that's balance for fight or flight.

Pointing a weapon at someone. Casually brushing aside a weapon.

Conversely, de-escalation and surrender.

Open hands, spread in front of them. Hands above head.

(Raised slowly, transitioning from the simple whoa-calm-down gesture to full on surrender as the situation gets tenser.)

Going still. Slow, careful movements being sure to keep hands where they can be seen. Laying down weapons.

Hands on head. Getting down on the floor. Deliberately making oneself vulnerable to prove non-hostile (or non-resisting) intent.

Alternately, deliberately showing "vulnerability" to demonstrate how little of a threat you consider the other person.

The slouch of villainy. Open posture, casual, relaxed in the face of apparent danger.

Casually putting weapons away or turning one's back, confident that they won't do anything.

Signs of fear.

Flinching. Trembling. Closed defensive posture. Tension. Backing away. Fidgeting. Lip-biting.

Arms hugged close to chest. Or refusing to lower defences. Checking for escape routes. Trying to insist that they don't come any closer.

Offer of or requests for help.

Extending a hand to help someone up off the ground. Reaching out a hand in silent plea.

Do they have to ask for help? Are they willing to accept it? Do they get a choice? Who has plenty and who has to rely on the other's goodwill?

Picking someone up off the ground. Carrying them. (Dropping them?)

Adjusting someone's clothes. Withholding aid.

credit:@just-horrible-things // @whetstonefires suggests:

A character can vastly expand their area of influence by laying a hand on a table, for example. If you're standing on opposite sides of a large table, and one of you puts your hand down, that can symbolically take you up into the other party's personal space in a much subtler and more deniable way than actually getting up in their face.

This can be used equally well to convey affection or threat.

[writingamongther0ses]

Hi guys this is my normal fish oc. He is very nervous pls be nice to him.

[writingamongther0ses]

‘capitalism works’ factoid actually untrue. the 62 people who own half the world’s wealth are outliers and should be eaten.

[writingamongther0ses]

Long ago your world was saved from a corruption by the hero taking it into themselves. Ever since, each generation has a “hero” who takes in the burden of the corruption until it overwhelms them and the new hero must kill them. You were the hero, but you plan on being the last

[writingamongther0ses]

I typically don't do horror of any type, whether it's watching, reading, or writing... I get scared easily. 🫣 but I did write a short psychological horror story which turned out to be a lot of fun!

To me, the genre evokes a sense of dread, fear, and general discomfort in the audience that other genres typically do not. If done well, it can be absolutely gripping- but what I find really interesting (and part of the reason I can't do horror) is the way that it doesn't need to do much, but it thrives in the imagination of the audience members. Out of all types of horror, psychological is my favorite because it messes with the mind, and typically when I watch or read horror, my imagination wanders all over the place and it can keep going long after the story is finished.

Bonus: I haven't explored that, actually. One character in the fandom is seen as unlucky (Bennett) but I don't think the main characters I write about are superstitious. I probably haven't explored it either since I was born on Friday the 13th and don't believe in luck.

@writeblr-live

[writingamongther0ses]

Happy STS!

I'm going to be a bit busy today, so I'm making a general post-

What would a cafe themed around your WIP (think Pokemon or various anime or the Amazing Digital Circus cafe) be like? What would they serve?

[writingamongther0ses]

as the wind blows; antelope valley, california

instagram - twitter - website

[writingamongther0ses]

I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.

[writingamongther0ses]

[writingamongther0ses]

The struggle of finding good clothes

[writingamongther0ses]

ⓘ Tip You can skip part of the day by taking a nap.

[writingamongther0ses]

reblog if you have skilled writer friends and you're damn proud of them

[writingamongther0ses]

*Dead media (assassinated)

[writingamongther0ses]

Being an adult in this recession and being like wow I am totally "splurging" on 3 new sets of cotton underwear and 3 pairs of socks like whoaaaaa hold your horses duke of the land where's all this money gonna come from

[writingamongther0ses]

what does turkish delight taste like and is it worth the events that occurred in chronicle of narnia: the lion the witch and the wardrobe