reny! (/'rɛniː/) [she/her] since 1988 | go listen to my podcast it's good! [replay >> rewind] | sometimes i make podfics! | #itfdb ⚾💙 | desktop background credit @goat-soap | always taking applications for pen pals | ask me and i'll tag anything | if i'm not danhalen now then i used to be |
you know what i don't have a pinned post yet maybe it's time to make one for my AO3 works! you can find the links under the cut!
while i've got you here go check out my podcast!
MY WRITING
careful creature - a RPF baseball fic [barely] feat. your favorite blue-eyed idiot [teen+, roofie mention, no assault occurs]
the last of my kind - a look into david's [lost boys] perspective before and after the untimely death of his friends [teen+, no archive warnings, sad sack emo shit]
charcoal and iron - lemon and tangerine [bullet train] get separated during a mission [teen+, blood and injury]
a joy, in every possibility - [911] buck leans on eddie after tommy breaks up with him, and it comes up that buck has lakers tickets [teen+, alcohol, heads up this fic is not nice to tommy. like it's not mean it's just buck's post break-up feels]
MY PODFICS
in which 2 + 2 equals... 5? - [911] buck comes out to the team. ravi is confused. [gen, a collaborative effort, short and sweet, really fun!]
this mortal coil [shuffle] -[911] maddie and eddie bond over their shared comatose connection [mature, no archive warnings]
drawing battle lines - [911] a car accident turns into much more when one of the participants pulls out a gun [teen+, gun violence]
tell me about despair [ch1] [ch2] - [911] unrepressing eddie diaz one agonizing step at a time [mature, no archive warnings, blood mentions]
there's a wild thing in the woolshed, and it's keeping me awake at night - [baseball RPF]
im sitting on a patio at my favorite cafe rn and im hand stitching them hem of a dress im working on. and i can see why someone would say im being performative by working on something like this in a public space. but frankly theres no element of that. i just want to work somewhere that isnt my apartment. i want to be in public, i wanna chat with strangers, i wanna see the world. it’s nice to hang out somewhere that isnt my home!
what i mean is when you say people are being performative you discourage them from doing shit they love in public. and thats no way to foster the world we want to see.
PEOPLE OF COLOR in VIDEO GAMES APPRECIATION: HAZEL FLOOD in SOUTH OF MIDNIGHT
"South of Midnight is set in a Gothic fantasy American Deep South setting. The game follows Hazel Flood on her journey after a hurricane devastates her hometown of Prospero."
South of Midnight
→ please don't use, download, or screenshot my gifs without permission or credit! these are specially made and took time to create, so please ask first!
Experimented a bit with a new way of detailing the tiles. Kinda like it? This particular piece took a hell of a lot of work. I’d love if you shared the vibes it’s giving off, for research purposes 💖
Experimented a bit with a new way of detailing the tiles. Kinda like it? This particular piece took a hell of a lot of work. I’d love if you shared the vibes it’s giving off, for research purposes 💖
this is a great time of year to buy from native stores or donate to native organizations. you can figure out who's land you're on here, and below i've listed some (of many) businesses you can support ♡
B.Yellowtail --- jewlery, clothing, and home goods designed by Bethany Yellowtail, citizen of the Northern Cheyenne Nation and from the Apsáalooke (Crow) Nation
Cheekbone Beauty --- sustainable, low-waste beauty products from Jenn Harper, an Anishinaabe artist based in Canada
Trickster --- atheletic products from Tlingit and Deg Hit’an Athabascan siblings (Alaska)
NativeHumboldt on Etsy --- the artist, Shayna McCullough, and their fiancé make designs inspired by traditional designs from their culture; she is from the Yurok tribe and descended from the Hupa, Karuk, Redwood Creek, Pit River, Yuki, Wintun, Pomo (tribes in California), and Chetco tribe (in Oregon)
OklahomaThirtyNine on Etsy --- they mostly sell beaded work, particularly earrings, as well as some necklaces
xBeadsByMandyx on Etsy --- handmade beaded earrings, from a Cherokee veteran
food products, from wine to sauces to teas to mixes to fish to jerky and nuts, sorted by store with details beside each store
Peeling off the broken breastplate of a stoic knight who only fights and never speaks, just to realize there’s nothing in there. Not metaphorically—the armor is literally empty. It doesn’t appear to affect him. If the armor stays mostly in the shape of a knight, he just gets back up to keep fighting. But with the chest plate off he just sits there, equally impervious to curiosity as I reach up into the cavity where his body might’ve gone. Stubbornly, no answers are found anywhere in there.
So I forge him a new breastplate and on the inside, because I know he has plenty of room, I put a little pocket. Not big enough to hold anything functional of course. Just a little extra piece to see what he’ll do with it.
He comes back next time with some grievous injury to his nothing, presumably from the massive shredded gash across his thigh plates. He sits and waits. I fix it for him. He is still nothing in there. I decide to add a drawing on the inside, of the type of beast I imagine could rend metal into scraps with a single blow. He puts it back on. He no longer moves as if he is injured.
Over time the interior of the knight becomes decorated with whatever odds and ends I could think to attach to the inside of a guy who’s got room to carry it. What really gets me is that he never removes any of it. Never requests a change. Not even when I installed a curtain rod for a small tapestry, or a bud vase to carry roses for his beloved, or an accordion folder for letters. He didn’t say a word for any of the many, many drawings of mythical beasts that now fight forever inside of his shell.
There are plenty of other forges. I’m not entirely sure why he keeps coming back here anyway. We’re pretty popular, but he could get his armor fixed a lot quicker (and with fewer ridiculous modifications) literally anywhere else. I asked him if I could get a look at his nothing again. He flipped up his visor and nodded his head so I could take a look. It was the same as it had been, filled with drawings and trinkets and weird little fixtures I’d put in there. I asked if he was annoyed by it, or liked it, or felt anything at all, but he literally only ever says nothing, so I’m not sure why I asked.
There’s not much room left in his nothing now. When he comes back for repairs I’ve had to fix my own foolish additions. Some of these pieces are intricate and irritating to repair, but I fix them anyway. It feels wrong to take any of it away from him now, even though I’ve been rudely encroaching on his nothingness to the point where it’s barely even there. How he squeezes his nothing back into a body so full, I’ll never understand. But it’s a game to me now, finding a spot not yet filled and putting something there. A dark part of me wonders if he ever gets filled up completely, if whatever sorcery holds the nothing-knight together may break, and it will all clatter unceremoniously to the floor.
When he hands me his breastplate yet again, it is so shockingly disfigured that I wonder if being made of nothing has somehow kept him alive. No ordinary knight could sustain such injuries. So I fix it. And he waits, unmoving, in a quiet corner of the forge. It’s like he’s watching, even though I know the reading glasses I put inside his helmet were just for fun. I’m careful to put it all back exactly the way it was when he last left. There’s no room to add more this time.
He examines the breastplate, and pauses before putting it back on, like he’s looking for something. Is he worried about the fit? But it suits him just as it always did. He calmly points to a little space, about an inch, between a miniature shelf and one of many pockets. There’s nothing there. I ask him what’s wrong, and again he points. It’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen from him, and it’s barely anything at all. I take it to mean he wants something there.
I spend some time engraving a little snail in the gap. He watches, as much as nothing can watch. When I’m finished he holds the breastplate, but he doesn’t put it on right away. I ask him if something’s still wrong. He says nothing, and puts it on. I tell him I can’t add anything else. Even if he could ask, there’s no room left.
Next time he comes back, there’s nothing wrong with his armor—he lets me check to make sure. I ask him what he’s doing here. Out from one of many pockets, he retrieves a tiny rusted knife. It’s in miserable condition, barely worth saving. I tell him I could make him a nice new one, but I’ll fix it if he likes. He puts it away and reaches around to find something else, a needle and thread. Better condition, but I’m not a sewist and I tell him as much. He puts them away. He then retrieves a little twisted piece of wax paper. I open it. It’s candy. I ask if I can eat it. He says nothing. I eat it. It’s flavored with cinnamon. I’m surprised he let me take it.
He keeps bringing me candy now. His armor is the most laborious to repair out of every client my forge serves, but it’s my own fault so I can’t complain. Sometimes he keeps me company while I work. I wonder if he is trying to tell me something when he hands me mints. I wonder again at the lemon lozenges. He stares at me when I eat, as much as nothing can stare.
One day he brings me a little jar of honey. I thank him, I tell him I’ll save it for dinner. He watches me work, he puts his repaired armor back on, and he stays. My shift passes slowly, and when I finally pack up to leave it’s dark outside. He follows me out of the forge. I ask him where he’s going. He points to the jar in my hand. I ask him if he wants to watch me eat it. He says nothing, but the nothing-knight clearly wants something, so I open the lid and dunk my finger in the honey. I try not to get any on my chin. He stands there, inches away, watching me try to consume this jar of honey without a utensil. It tastes like clovers. About half the jar is left when I’ve finally had enough of pretending to be a bear, but he doesn’t move to leave.
I ask if he’s going to follow me home. He says nothing. I tell him he can if he wants to. Again, nothing. I start walking, and he follows at my side. I know he’s not going to say anything ever, so I fill the silence. I tell him I’m grateful for the sweets, I tell him about how his various components are made, I tell him I’ve never met anyone made of nothing before. I tell him it’s a rare opportunity for a smith to work so much on the inside of something. He says nothing. I tell him again how much I like the candy.
It occurs to me that maybe filling me with sugar is as close as he can get to filling someone else’s empty armor with trinkets. I’m not sure if that’s really why he does it. I tell him I don’t have room to be filled with anything on the inside, not like him. I’m not a container for much besides food. He offers me another piece of candy. Maybe he likes containing something, the way I like to feel full. Maybe it’s nothing at all.
—
I didn’t edit this even a little bit. Thanks for reading!
origamiaround
ellievsbear
yousharknotpass
amandla
vaporwave
