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#Creative thinking workshops

dyaaustralia · 1 year

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Art Courses in Melbourne

Starting out as an artist may be challenging. There are many various art forms to discover, and gaining inspiration from others may help you expand your artistic horizons and inspire you to produce your own works of art.

Taking art courses in Melbourne may be a fantastic way to develop your creative abilities. From total beginners to expert students, there are art lessons available for people of all ages and ability levels. A good experience and confidence booster is taking an art class.

A student pass is available, providing unrestricted access to all teachers, coaches, and masterclasses. You can find new friends, new hobbies, and new passions in this way.

You may study a range of artistic techniques from a professional, including painting, drawing, and portraiture. Your ability to create art from visual concepts will improve with practise, according to an art tutor. You may improve your creativity and practise self-care by learning a new art form.

Beginner painters will benefit greatly from watercolour painting workshops. The basics of painting and colour mixing are the main topics covered in the lessons. They are also perfect for artists who wish to hone their craft and are intermediate or seasoned.

The Victorian Artists Society is another excellent location for art classes. The historic VAS studio is where these courses are held. The tutors cover a variety of methods and are renowned painters.

You might also enrol in a group painting lesson with your loved ones or friends. There will be a helpful instructor on hand to demonstrate various techniques and inspire you to be your own artist.

#Online art classes australia #Online painting classes australia #Art workshops melbourne #Painting classes melbourne #Painting workshop melbourne #Creative training #Creative thinking workshops

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dannyphannypack · 5 months

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Happy Holiday Truce @ghozteevee !

I'm so sorry about the wait! I'd say the holidays got away from me, but I think procrastination is pretty true-to-form for me. Something I'll definitely work on in the New Year. I really hope it's still January 3rd for you!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little story <3 I took some inspo from two of your prompts: post identity reveal family outing and sibling bonding. The sibling bonding is in the first quarter or so, the parental bonding is in the last bit. Also, the conclusion definitely ran away from me! Very Brother Bear vibes up in here. I hope that's okay!

Enjoy! :3

Word Count: 3280

Danny gasped awake with a shiver, barely catching the green of his eyes as it caught on the shiny, canvassed ceiling of their tent. His breath fogged in front of him, visible in the quickly dimming glow. It served as a warning of what he already knew had awoken him, but it was nice to get the confirmation anyway: there was a ghost nearby.

He rubbed the crust from his eyes as he allowed his brain time to wake up the rest of the way. The good news was that it didn’t feel like anything overly powerful. The bad news was that if it tripped his Ghost Sense, then it was powerful enough—and more than likely causing havoc, because it was clearly feeling some big emotions and those emotions usually amounted to some brand of anger. It also felt distinctly feral, and given their locale, it was safe to bet it was an animal spirit of some kind. Those could be especially unpredictable, and he wasn’t in the mood.

Danny looked over at the sleeping bag where his sister slept—seeing in the dark hadn’t been a problem for a long time, with or without the aid of glowing eyes—and he watched the slow rise and fall of her chest as she quietly snored. Now, whether or not to wake her was the question. The Ghost Assault Vehicle would be the safest place for her if things went haywire, but undoubtedly she’d be worried and clingy and want to help, which he also wasn’t in the mood for.

Ultimately, though, safety overruled whatever annoying sibling feelings she might stir up. Danny dislodged himself from his own sleeping bag and crawled across the floor to her, the waterproof fabric beneath him making rustling noises all the way.

“Psst,” he whispered, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Jazz.”

“Whazzat?” she asked, jerking. “Danny?”

“Hey. There’s a ghost.”

Her eyes blew open. “Like, here? Now?”

Yeah, maybe he could’ve handled that better. “Not yet,” he amended. “But I’m heading out. You should probably get in the Gav, just in case.”

“The G-A-V, Danny, not the ‘Gav.’” It was an old argument, one they hadn’t really argued over in years. Danny figured that Jazz probably found it endearing now that she was out of the house and missing him for most of the year. She sighed as she sat up and reached for the ground, hands fumbling towards her glasses. “You’re going alone? At least tell Mom and Dad first. And help me with a light, please.”

Danny summoned a ball of ectoplasm and sent it floating up towards the domed ceiling, where it lit the whole tent in a dim, soft blue. He grimaced. “I was kind of hoping you’d do that.”

Danny’s parents had been informed of his little secret only a week ago, and all-in-all it had gone down pretty well. The timing had been strategic, of course; Danny was going off to college at the end of the summer, and his parents needed to know why their newest ghostly ally would be disappearing from Amity for the entire school year (barring holidays and emergencies, if all went well). Going to college was a failsafe he knew he hadn’t needed, but wanted anyway—seeing alternate timelines where his parents were accepting of his after-school activities was very different from actually experiencing it in his own, after all. They’d reacted much as expected, though. Surprised. Excited. Sad. Guilt-stricken.

Jazz looked at him with something that bordered on pity, and it made him squirm. “I can if that’s what you really want, Danny,” she allowed. “But you know why I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Okay, no need to get all mopey about it,” Danny deflected, clambering up to his knees (the tent wasn’t tall enough to stand, which kind of put a damper on his whole ‘stoic’ front. Not that he’d admit that). “It just…still feels weird. But I can do it!”

Jazz raised her hands in fake surrender and fought a smile. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a big boy now, I got it.” She unzipped her sleeping bag and cast the cover aside. “I’ll go hide. Though…if it’s big enough that you needed to wake us up, maybe you should do more than just let them know.”

“Like?” Danny asked, just to be obstinate. He knew what Jazz was hinting at.

Jazz rolled her eyes. “Like ask for help, you big dummy.”

Danny sighed. It’d be the first time working with them since…“I don’t know if we’re at that level yet, Jazz.”

“You were before you told them,” Jazz pointed out with a raised brow.

“It’s different,” he stressed.

“Okay, well, different or not, you need to tell them you’re leaving, at the very least.” Jazz crawled over her sleeping bag towards the door and unzipped it with a practiced, fluid motion. “After you,” she said with a dramatic gesture towards the dark campfire and forest beyond.

Danny grumbled as he passed, and once out of the threshold he let the ectoplasmic ball lighting the inside of the tent wink out, just to hear Jazz’s indignant “Hey!” from behind him. Seconds later he heard (and saw) her flashlight click on behind him; ectoplasm-powered and too big for its own good, Danny was sure that thing created its own light pollution. He refused to use it on principle.

Danny walked the short trek to his parents’ tent and crouched to get the zipper, deciding against intangibility just in case one of his parents was awake enough to notice a shadowy silhouette phase through the wall. On the other side, Jack snored with the force of a train engine; Danny could swear it was rattling the zipper out of his hands as he fumbled with it.

The inside was dark, but Jazz’s flashlight outside cast long shadows across the floor. Danny moved out of the way so that the light could hit his parent’s faces; Danny knew his mother would have in ear plugs, so this was really the only safe way of waking her beyond shaking, which Danny knew from experience could be…startling, sometimes.

He watched her brows furrow before her eyes squinted open. She rubbed at her eyes with one hand and took an ear plug out with the other. “Danny? What happened?”

“Um, there’s a ghost,” Danny said (muttered, more like). “I was gonna go—”

“Hold on, I can’t hear you,” Maddie said, turning to shake her husband. “Jack, wake up. Danny needs something.”

“Whazzat?” Jack yelled, in much the same way as Jazz. Like father, like daughter. “What happened?”

“Uh,” Danny said, feeling tenser now with both their attentions on him. “There’s a ghost.” He pointed north. “Half a mile that way, maybe. Getting closer. I was gonna go deal with it, but I told Jazz to get in the RV just in case.”

Maddie frowned. “You were gonna go deal with it? By yourself?”

Danny glanced behind him, where Jazz was giving him a thumbs up from across the campsite. “Um, no,” he lied, turning back around. “You guys can come. If you want. You don’t have to.”

“Of course we want to, Danno!” Jack shouted. He had positively lit up, like grogginess wasn’t and had never been an issue for him. “I’ll go get the Fenton Grappler!”

“Do you know what kind of ghost it is, sweetie?” Maddie asked, still watching him. “What equipment do we need to bring?”

Danny hadn’t thought that far ahead. “It’s an animal, I think. It feels pretty feral. It’s not that strong, either, but—”

“Animal spirits can be unpredictable,” Maddie said, echoing Danny’s earlier considerations. “Alright, we’ll bring the capturing gear.” She paused. “If…that’s okay?”

Danny almost laughed; he’d never heard his mom sound so unsure when it came to ghost hunting. “That sounds good, Mom,” he said. “I’ll go get my boots on.”

— — —

Danny led the way through the timber with his parents, feeling a little silly in human form but unwilling to change nonetheless. It was nice to walk, sometimes, even when flying would be quicker and less taxing. And he could pass his feet intangibly through those pesky fallen branches and thorny bushes, so really it wasn’t all that worse than strolling down an Amity sidewalk. There was, he told himself, no other reason he might want to stay human in this scenario. He certainly wouldn’t feel uncomfortable otherwise.

“Are we getting close, honey?” Maddie asked after helping Jack over a rotted trunk.

The irony wasn’t lost on Danny; he’d asked the same question on the RV ride there. He felt around in his chest, feeling for the speed at which his core buzzed it’s steady warning, the strength of the tug. “Nearly there,” he promised.

“That’s a real neat trick, Danny-boy,” Jack praised. Danny could hear the smile in his voice. “You know, I always wondered how Phantom heard wind of a ghost faster than we did. Didn’t I, Mads?”

Danny kicked at some dead leaves and sticks at the ground, embarrassed. “That ghost alarm you guys developed works similarly. It maybe doesn’t have quite the range, though.”

Maddie hummed, contemplating. “And that’s what woke you up tonight?”

“Yeah.”

Maddie reached out to set her hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He closed his eyes before he turned to face her, bracing. If he hadn’t caught on to the concern in her voice before, he was definitely feeling it now. “How often do ghosts wake you up?” she asked, quiet.

Danny opened his mouth to lie and then thought better of it. That was a habit he was determined to break with his family, whether they’d like the answer or not. “Once or twice a night,” he admitted, slowly. When Maddie made a pained noise, he quickly added, “Usually it’s nothing to worry about, though, so I just go back to sleep. Like, at least half the time.”

She bit her lip. Guilty. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that, hun.”

“Can we not do this?” Danny pleaded. These were the kind of conversations he’d been trying to avoid for the past week. “It’s my fault for not telling you guys, not your fault for not noticing.”

“We know that’s how you feel, Danny,” his mom allowed. She shared a glance with Jack from over her shoulder. “But we can’t help but feel like some of that lies on us, too. For noticing the clues but not acting on them in the ways we should have.”

“We want to know now, though,” Jack said, coming up behind his wife. “Warts and all.”

“Is this an intervention?” Danny asked, nervous. It felt like his core was constricting in his chest. “Because I get enough of that from Jazz.”

“It’s not an intervention,” his mom denied, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s just…Why haven’t you turned into Phantom yet, Danny?”

Danny wasn’t sure if he heard that right. It felt like the conversation had spun 180. “What?” he asked.

“This isn’t exactly an easy hike, sweetie,” she said. “Mostly uphill, through brambles and across fallen trees.”

“It’s been fine,” he argued. “I’ve been phasing through most of it.”

“If we were Tucker or Sam, you would have flown us there,” Maddie finished, and, well, he couldn’t deny that logic. “So why haven’t you?”

Danny frowned. “I didn’t think we were at that stage yet.”

“We’re not on a date, Danny; we’re your parents,” she sighed, shaking her head. “There is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you. I changed your diapers; I should know.”

Danny frowned. If she had said that two weeks ago, before they’d known, he might not have believed her. He did believe her this time, but it was marred by something else—this aching, squeezing feeling in his chest, riddling his core with fear and anxiety and confusion and—

Oh. That wasn’t from him.

“Look out!” Danny yelled, grabbing hold of his parents and shoving them to the ground. His shield came up just in time: a glowing black bear, absolutely massive for its species, came barreling down upon it, scratching and growling and baring sharp, sharp teeth with saber-toothed tiger levels of length. He flinched against its strength but held steady, keeping his hands in front of him to feed ectoplasm into the bubble that surrounded them.

Perhaps realizing that its efforts were futile, the bear backed away, roared once in warning, and then took off running in the opposite direction, taking a moment to pause awkwardly at a hollowed tree stump before disappearing over the hill.

“Okay,” Danny breathed, allowing the shield to dissipate. There was that conversation out the window. He was almost grateful for it; he’d always been better at fighting than he was at talking, and staying human during this battle was quickly becoming a moot point, anyhow. “Alright, here’s the plan: you guys follow from back here, and I’ll fly up and cut it off from the front. Sound good?”

He was about to run off then, but Maddie grabbed his chin and twisted him to face her. Her eyes scanned over him faster than Danny could even blink, checking for injuries at a near-inhuman speed.

Once he got over his shock at being grabbed, he started to squirm. “Mom, stop. I’m fine,” he murmured, trying to turn away to hide the way embarrassment was quickly flooding his cheeks with red.

Once satisfied, Maddie nodded and placed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Be safe,” she commanded in a no-nonsense voice, like he’d be grounded for a week if he came back injured. Then, she finally let him go.

“You too,” he said, turning away. Squeezing his eyes shut, he transformed—focusing on the way his core bloomed outward instead of the stares on his back—and took off into the air.

Going on a bear hunt. He was sure there was a kid’s song about that.

Danny followed the tug in his gut from the sky; it was even stronger now that he’d transformed and they’d gotten…acquainted, for lack of a better word. He couldn’t shake that weird anxious worry in his gut—the one that seemed to be emanating from the bear in waves—but he could fight through it, and that’s what mattered.

Animal spirits were all instinct and emotion, wrapped up into something tight and cohesive that ectoplasm wouldn’t have trouble latching onto. Usually that something was governed by anger, which, as far as Danny knew, was the strongest emotion in a living animal’s arsenal. Human spirits could end up governed by that too, but there was more nuance to the reasoning behind anger with a person: jealousy, revenge, even loneliness could rearrange into different flavors of the same base emotion. It was easier to assuage because of its complicatedness; when there was a direct physical link to someone’s anger, there was something to solve.

It was more difficult to get angry animal spirits to move on. They were angry at everything and nothing all at once. The whole world fueled their anger, and so there was little that could calm them down.

Fear, though…He’d never met an animal spirit governed by fear, or worry, or whatever anxious instinct this bear’s ectoplasm was releasing. Maybe he could turn this into a happy ending, for both him and the bear. He hoped he could, anyway.

Danny dived down in front of it, and from the way it twisted backwards and picked up its pace in the direction opposite of him (the direction towards his parents), it seemed the bear could sense him, too. He went intangible and picked up the pace, letting trees and leaves fly through him at a dizzying pace. Finally, the forest opened into a little clearing, and Danny threw up a green wall at the end of it, where the bear was trying to escape. It skid to a halt so fast it left deep gashes in the dirt, dropped something fuzzy and black from its mouth, and turned to face him.

Danny froze. There, curled beneath the ghost bear’s legs, was a single cub. It peered out from behind her, oblivious to the danger and curious as to the reason for their night’s interruption. More importantly, it did not glow like it’s mother. It was still alive.

Mother Bear growled a warning at the same time Danny’s parents started crashing through the brush nearest her. “Stop!” he shouted out, holding out a hand despite his parents not being able to see him. “Uh, stand down!”

“Danny?” His dad called. “What’s going on?”

Mother Bear was looking increasingly frantic. Panicking a little himself—whether from the emotions that he was accidentally leaching off her or the situation, he wasn’t sure—Danny made a split-second decision and thrust a dome over the top of her and her cub. It would shield them from any sudden bear attacks, true, but it also served as makeshift protection from any Fenton weaponry.

He trusted his parents not to shoot him. He wasn’t sure if he trusted them not to shoot Mother Bear.

“It’s safe now!” Danny called to his parents. “Um, leave your guns outside the clearing! And walk slowly!”

Danny was almost surprised to hear them listening. He didn’t know why. He had to stop doubting them.

“Oh,” Maddie said when she breached the tree line. Mother Bear rotated to face her and Jack as they stepped out, gnashing her too-long teeth and backing further over her cub to put it safely beneath her belly. It peeked out from beneath her paws. “It’s…a mother.”

She sounded shocked. Danny concurred.

“Come over here,” Danny told his parents. “Behind me. I’m gonna try something.”

He stepped forward as his parents came around the dome. Mother Bear watched them walk until they’d settled behind Danny, and already he could feel that fear worry stress easing, just from having all potential predators in-sight instead of surrounding her.

“Danny,” Maddie warned when he took another step forward. “Bears are extremely protective of their young.”

“I know,” Danny murmured, keeping his voice low. He inched forward, getting lower to the ground as he walked. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Mother Bear snarled statically, touching on Ghost Speak but unable to form full coherence. Worry, is what Danny was able to read from it. Worry. Baby. Danger.

Danny switched tactics, changing to Ghost Speak as he set his hands gently against the wall of the dome, emanating as many calming emotions as he could summon. Calm. Safe.

She flinched, but her teeth were shortening, growing less sharp. Baby Bear yawned beneath her, a kind of squeaking hum. Almost like a puppy. Like Cujo, maybe.

Calm. Safe. Danny promised, at the same time voicing sentences in English above the Ghost Speak’s static: “It’s okay. You’re safe. I won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt him. You can let go. I’ll protect him. It’s alright.”

Mother Bear swayed, grew smaller. Promise. She growled. Staticked. No-nonsense voice.

Promise. Danny responded.

Baby Bear nuzzled into Mother Bear, and she licked at his cheek as her body grew brighter and began dissipating, moving on. Baby Bear purred and purred.

She looked at Danny. Looked behind him, where his parents stood. Mother? she asked. With the emotions clogging her speech finally gone, he could actually understand her.

Danny nodded. “Yeah. That’s my Mom.”

Good. Mother Bear hummed, closing her eyes. Safe.

She disappeared, her glowing green fragments scattering on the wind.

Danny turned around to face his parents, and for the first time noticed that they were both crying. That was okay. He was crying, too.

He cleared his throat. “So. Anyway. Where’s the nearest Animal Sanctuary?”

#danny phantom #tayscreams #tay writes #holiday truce 2023 #phanfic #danny phantom fanfic #jazz fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #danny fenton #featuring: animal spirit inspo from shift by captainozone if i'm not mistaken #been a while since i read it but something something animal spirits being unpredictable feeding off instinct and emotion yaddah yaddah #happy holiday truce! i hope it's a good one <3 #this is the first time ive written anything for the phandom in … years #anything ive posted anyway #college has been ;-; taking the creative energies out of me ;-;#ive resorted to turning old dp plot bunnies into creative writing assignments for workshop classes. it’s rough out here #at least it’s working. people just think i have a thing about ghosts. and they’d be right but it’s much deeper than that #holiday truce

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hesbianyaoi · 6 months

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Hear me out

But Atsushi x Lucy x Akutagawa, they're yaoi and Yuri at the same time

have been sitting on my ass thinking about this and i think the funniest + most logical possibility for this to work is if atsushi is the hinge because i do not think lucy would like akutagawa much and vice versa. they'd probably be like this

#richie asks #i think getting ship asks is so funny because the fandom is so creative #any dynamic they can think of they workshop to hell and back #its a power i dont have so i respect it a ton

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poetryorchard · 6 months

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Join Blossom in our next creative writing workshop inspired by new beginnings!

🍊 As always, even if you can’t make it to the video session, sign up anyway because you will still receive all the workshop materials including unique writing prompts. Our past workshop documents are available on our Patreon! Support us there for one free ticket a month to a workshop of your choice!

🪩 Sign up here! Tickets £1+

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adventurerswritingguild · 1 year

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Hark, Adventurers! @poetryorchard is excited to welcome the newly re-branded Adventurer's Writing Guild for a workshop celebrating the work of poets in community! Please join us for the first of four workshop held in collaboration between Poetry Orchard and the Adventurer's Writing Guild.

These workshops are especially open to those who have not attended a writing workshop before!

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vulpinesaint · 4 months

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favorite compliment i get ever is when people say “i don’t normally like poetry/i don’t get poetry/i find poetry difficult to really engage with. but reading your poetry made me Get It.” gently holding your face in my hands and kissing you… let me show you the beautiful world of what poetry could be…

#like knowing that my work is good And accessible And gripping in a way that transcends the limits of what people assume poetry to be…#like obvi i’m a big believer in nobody actually hates poetry people just haven’t found the poem for them yet/the way to read it/etc.#but knowing i can be that for some people… oh my goddddd #someone said it in my creative writing workshop today and it made me think of the ask i got ab the same kind of thing. makes the heart soar #valentine notes

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thelostboys87 · 7 months

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does anyone else get writing "advice" posts on their fyp (usually from blogs that promote themselves as solely a writing advice account) that is all very neatly laid out but when you read it is actually like. nothing-advice? like i got a "how to plot a book" post and all the points where incredibly vague, "start with an idea" "consider themes and message" "create well defined characters" and i don't think even a beginner writer would benefit from this because what does a "good" idea look like? how do you define characters well? how do you consider and approach an idea thematically? at first i thought maybe i need to remember that im not a beginner writer and dont need things laid out like that, but then i remember the times i was a beginner writer and and would watch similar videos on youtube and just feel overwhelmed by all the steps being laid out in a whistle stop tour with nothing about how to tackle each step, or reassurance that you dont have to a follow a set line of steps in the first place. feel like there's a whole genre of writing advice content, typically marketed at beginners, that's like, the advice isn't bad but it's so surface level and presented in a easy to digest way that it can look helpful but when it comes to actually being helpful you'll realise it's actually saying nothing. coincidentally it's also the easiest content you could make re writing LOL

#it also had outline your book and the basic inciting incident rising action etc like not the freytags pyramid on MY fyp!!!#i think about this a lot with the authortubers i watched when i was just starting out and a teen #the advice wasnt bad it was just so. stripped of all its complexity and nuance?#and i would watch these and TAKE NOTES like i was in a class or smth but could never figure out how to apply it to my own work #and i think that's because the advice was so low effort lol #i watched a whole video on passive voice because my writing tutor at the time (intro to creative writing worst workshop of my life btw!!!#who wants tea!!!)#said i used too much passive voice and then left me to my own devices about that #and yeah that video taught me what passive voice looks like and how to switch it to active #but it didnt teach me at all what passive voice actually was beyond that. what effect it CAN have #which is why im a big believer in writing theory over writing advice #explain passive voice in a neutral way so beginner writers know how to discern when its effective and when its not #cause all that video did was basically teach me how to robotically edit random sentences of my work into 'active'#basically tldr the advice isnt bad but they never really present effective advice on how to apply it #actually i may move this whole post to my main but i have more shit i want to say abt other things today

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onwriting-hrarby · 10 months

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Engraved — Writing workshop week I

I needed to get off my novel for a while, so this exercise helped me a lot in imagining other things! It is quite long, but I don't think I have ever uploaded any og fiction inn here...

This is part of the Writing workshop by @books and @bettsfic!

Engraved

The wife later swore under oath it had been an impetuous reaction—lights on her face and the moustache man holding a clickety pen in front of her—but the truth is that she had seen it from the first instant she had entered the kitchen.

Her legs felt stiff and wobbly, that day. They carried her body like a strange weight, even though the scale had shown her that she needed to eat more. All bones, all bones, her man had sighed while lunch, gnawing at his steak. She would later think that the effort in which she walked was telling her that she should have stayed quiet. To never enter the kitchen. Never lay her eyes next to the stove. Never begin cooking. Never saying to her husband that she would begin cooking. Never hearing him exclaim, Finally, for fuck’s sake. Never thinking she was not a worthy woman, never feeling so angry, so ready to burst up, so—never never. But she did carry herself to the room, and her eyes did focus next to the stove, where it had been years she hadn’t seen it, the cutting knife her mother had gifted her on her wedding day.

It came along with a lot of fine china. They had shoved them away in the living room, where they couldn’t be seen and wouldn’t get dirt on them. She had said to her husband, “What a pity, those are very expensive”. He had hummed, had kept on putting thin ceramic plates and golden-rimmed teacups into the wooden cabinets, and had barely thrown her a glance as she inwardly apologized for the ingratitude. When she found the knife in the box and took it in her hands, it weighed. She felt it into her fingers for some seconds. The steel was cold and polished. It reflected the orange light of the living room, the way the snow was pouring outside, and shone in a myriad of decisions not taken and secrets better kept. The wife faintly heard his husband say, That will come out handy. She had glanced at him, held the knife sturdier against her palm.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a fine blade”, he had answered. “It will cut meat just great.”

But the knife had been left unused for almost all of the marriage, stuffed into the utensils drawer just like any other knife. Upon inspection the day of the china, she had found her initials engraved: M. A. The lettering was beautiful, adorning one of the tangs of the handler. The M was curvy, the ends pointy in riveting ribbons, and the A had a full stomach, protruding to the interior part. Years later, the wife realized the knife hadn’t lost the scale, nor the sharpness of the blade, but the letters had mysteriously given up their fullness and were starting to fade onto the metal.

Nevertheless, the knife was there after so long, so she thought, I better use it. She couldn’t imagine why her husband must have taken it out of the drawer and left it next to the stove. He had long given up seeing her cut with it, although it was true that no knife she had tried quite cut the meat like he wanted to. Always too thin, or too thick, or it couldn’t get through the veins, maybe couldn’t tear into the grease well enough.

She took the filet for supper out of the fridge. It had defrosted well, but some icy tears were still stuck to it. She brushed them off with her hand and they melted on her fingers. She brought her fingers inside the mouth and sucked. It tasted like watery iron. She put the meat on the cutting board, grabbed the engraved knife made an incision in the middle. He would complain that they had the same amount of meat. But then again, she could say, Wasn’t I all bones? As she cut the meat, the knife boiled in her hand. Strange, she thought. She felt a rush of dizziness overcome her, and as she closed her eyes, she could hear her mom’s voice—no, a scream, so loud she had to brace herself onto the marble counter, the knife hanging from her fingers nimbly.

She recomposed herself. The cut was perfect, though. She thought, a momentary anaemia. She was old after all, too many memories and too many years on her back.

The pan sizzled with some oil. It splattered all over the knife she still had in her hand. I can’t let go, she realized. Maybe I don’t want to. Her mom had died in a painful scream, her father had confessed. She had looked at him through the plastic glass and saw his eyes full of grief and guilt, and swore to herself not to be consumed by rage. “Some things run in one’s blood”, her dad had chuckled, “even though you hate me so”.

On the pan, the meat smelled like burnt.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck it”. She swore some more and then swore to herself she could never swear again. Her husband didn’t like it, and wasn’t she such a proper lady?

She left the knife next to the stove and took the pan off the fire, but the meat was far off saving. The wife sighed, felt the tears coming to her eyes. They wet the rim of her eyelashes. She patted her free hand against them. She breathed out, invoked patience. He could hear him say, It’s not raw enough. I want to see the blood, see? I want to see it, for fuck’s sake. If it’s not raw, then—It tastes like a shoe! Have you ever tasted a shoe?, and she would say, no, I’ve never, and he would put the filet away, or maybe smash it against the wall, and the dish would crack, yes, she could evoke it because it had happened before, and the husband would say, You’re such of no use, why did I marry someone that useless, yes, you, I’m taking about you.

She heard the steps approaching the kitchen. Light as ever, but threatening. She knew the sound because she had to train herself to listen to it all of her life. He appeared on the door frame, watching at her with his mouth open in surprise, the canines hanging pointily, the tongue layered with yellow saliva onto it. His spit reached her face as he screamed:

“What the hell have you done?!”

And because she had seen it in the first instant she had entered the kitchen, the knife rested on her hand, with a weight of something unconfessed and the pride of something long foreseeable.

#tumblr writing workshop with betts #show don't tell #i don't think i did it right or i don't if i followed the prompt but #just the fact i wrote it ready to share it feels like a big step #so i'm sharing it anyways #writing #creative writing #writeblr #writing community #writing exercise #writerscommunity #writer problems #aspiring author #writers of tumblr #writing life #hrarbywritingdiaries

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significant-ace-nnoyance · 1 year

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the whole having to make a disclaimer when you make a joke about like. white people. or allocishets. or just oppressor groups in general is so messed up bc like. i would LOVE a disclaimer before every sitcom episode my family watches (help) like just. jennifer aniston at the beginning of friends like

"hi! this episode contains 3 instances of 'jokes' made targeting the queer community with an intent to capitalize on harmful stereotypes (instituted by the oppressor class with a goal of otherization and degradation) for a ridiculing and unnerving effect! thus delegitimizing queer voices and identities in the mainstream and contributing to subconscious biases and ostracization of minority groups by viewers at home in the favor of "edgy" comedy!! plus a bonus of wlw sexualization at the end :) that's all, enjoy <3"

like ARE YOU KIDDING!?!??! then i wouldnt have to sit there the whole fucking 45 minutes on the edge of my seat waiting for the fucking jumpscare of queerphobia. like, i know its coming at some point every 2-3 episodes but i would like to have some preparation??? like slap a warning label on that thing frfr (*smack* "this baby can fit so much transphobia disguised as light-hearted humor!")

but nOoOOOoO we're the sensitive ones having to sit through EVERY MAINSTREAM MEDIA SHOW ON THE PLANET just WAITING for That One (1+) Gay Joke and knowing you cANT make a big deal about it because its "JUST a JOKE" and we DO. IVE LITERALLY CONSUMED STRAIGHT MEDIA THAT MAKES GAY JOKES FOR 17 YEARS. ALL THE WAY BACK TO FUCKING DISNEY VILLAINS. AND IVE LET U HAVE YOUR FREAKING JOKES BC IM NOT IN A SAFE SPACE TO ACTUALLY SAY ANYTHING

and yet anytime someone dares make a SINGULAR joke generalizing white or straight or allo or whatever people EVERYONE FREAKS THE FUCK OUT like i know karen its not ALL. STRAIGHT. PEOPLE. can i make a sINGULAR joke based on my personal experience and perception of a shared "straight" culture and norms that often benefit the oppressor class and make my everyday life difficult JUST ONE JOKE. JUST ONE. THIS IS NOT A PERSONAL ATTACK. JUST LIKE EVERY FUCKING GAY JOKE IN A SEINFIELD EPISODE EVER WASNT A "PERSONAL ATTACK" RIGHT?!?!?!?!?

stfu. we're tired. you're literally lucky we aren't less depressed or sleep-deprived or you'd be bkjldsjfljfs

#sorry yall i just ABJDKLJVASKLDJF at my LIMIT I SWEAR TO GOD #also side note dont you love those jokes that are like 'that's a trans/gender nc person...... (thats funny!)'#and ur just sitting there like. am i. naturally hilarious??? a bORN COMEDIAN!??!#anyways #LET US MAKE FUCKING COMEDY OUT OF OUR TRAUMA #TRAUMA THAT LITERALLY CAME FROM YOUR 'COMEDY'#i say 'comedy' bc its NOT FUNNy.#GAY PEOPLE ARE FUNNY #POINTING OUT A QUEER PERSON EXISTS IS. NOT FUNNY??? THERES NO CREATIVE THOUGHT????#ITS LITERALLY JUST LIKE 'hey! here's someone different from my norm and i perceive that as weird because im uncultured and uneducated and #trained to perceive anything outside the norm as dangerous and/or lesser than myself'#EVEN THOUGH I WEAR A SHIRT THAT SAYS I HATE MY WIFE AND DRINK BUD LIGHT AND MAKE MY SON WEAR 'LADIES MAN' SHIRTS AND HIT ON 14 YR OLDS #AND NO ONE THINKS THATS WEIRD #like. maybe u need to workshop that one a little bit. idk. just a personal opinion #/j they need to workshop everything about their everything #like maybe splash a little respecting women juice on ur face while ur at it #actually a little respective everyone juice #get ur shit together #like gay people may not have their shit together but STRAIGHT PEOPLE DONT EITHER #ITS JUST SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE FOR THEM??? TO BEHAVE LIKE THAT????#LIKE I DONT NEED TO KNOW UR 'TRYING FOR A BABY' STFU AND GO HOME TO UR LITTLE GENDERED HOUSE U WEIRDO #anways #thats enough tags #sorry yall skldfjklsjfskldkfjdkl #the straights are not okay #the allocishets are not okay #nO ONE IS OKAY #and its okay to not be okay but NOT IN THAT WAY U ABSOLUTE WACKOS #lgbtqia #kiri’s ramblings

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poetryorchard · 1 year

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Sprites of the Orchard! Ring in the Equinox with us in our next creative writing workshop this 10 March!

While one half of the world celebrates soon-to-be-blooms, the other is preparing for an ending anew. Earth abounds in rich hues as we march onward– in this workshop, we will process all that has come to pass & part with the remains of 2022, clearing the way for a new season of experiences unique to 2023.

#workshop #writing workshop #poetry workshop #open mic #poetry #writeblr #creative writing #writing community #spilled ink #prose #prompts #equinox #spring #autumn #on march #on equinox #web weaving #<- sorry i know this isn't a web weaving post and i don't very much like to spam but that is the exact community i am hoping to reach! lol #because i love web weaving and i think this workshop will be v inspiring for ppl who make those kinds of posts :)

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effervescentleaf · 4 months

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in the middle of reading 17776 for the first time ever (crazy i know) but this is exactly the type of thing i want to create like just fun little interweb things

#leafposts #i think websites & the internet in general are such an interesting storytelling medium #okay leaf summer goals go to a creative writing workshop or something #my god do i need it

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