BlackGirlTired

Black Girl | Knitting, Crochet, & Lego Enthusiast | Nap Lover | Book Worm 20s

[readingforaneternity]

Hi all! Welcome to my Craft Store!

I'm Button or Buttons (she/her)

Basics:

I'm in my 20s

18+ only

Most of my writing will contain a chronically ill black female character

My Link(s):

AO3

Masterlist:

Chronic Migraine Snapshots

Recently Updated:

The Pitt: Meticulous Patterns

The Pitt: Lights On

Chronic Migraine Snapshots: Care for Me

Notes:

I DO NOT consent to any of my work to be inputted into AI programs

DO NOT come onto my blog with bigotry of any sort, you will be blocked

DO NOT copy or repost any of my work

Ageless blogs will be blocked

Blocking is not personal

I don't do tag lists, my Masterlist will be kept up to date

I do have a life outside of this site so do not be in my comments demanding updates. I have things to do.

If you don't like my writing, block me and move on

*All dividers used are from @saradika-graphics

[readingforaneternity]

I came across this video and I wanted to share it.

If you get the chance this week, please blow some bubbles in the memory of Cyrus Carmack Belton.

The life of another Black boy was stolen from us three years ago and although we mourn him, we can also celebrate him by doing something he loved.

Rest in Power Cyrus

[vigilskept]

really i think the most insidious part of white supremacy is the way it will convince white people everything is actually About Them. being called out isn’t about you. poc expressing frustration at your behaviour isn’t about you. it’s about how you are affecting others. step one is literally just de-centre yourself from the conversation. anyone who’s not white has already had to learn this lesson the hard way and it gets tiring waiting for the rest of you to catch up

[readingforaneternity]

And let’s just say i’m pissed bc the song my guitar teacher said would be hard is actually hard

[patrochilles-or-bust]

I will never take serious or pity the Great Replacement fears of white people, no matter how "academically" or "accurately" they put it.

Ain't no way my people had to survive the complete and purposeful destruction of our own cultures to be assimilated into one Color and slave class, to create and be stolen from and erased from our own creations to this day, every day. Ain't no way Native Americans were genocided in every way possible and are still fighting the good fight to maintain their cultural norms and practices.

Ain't no way we survive ALLA DAT... And I'm supposed to take someone seriously because they think not seeing white people in their media or in their governments, as if we haven't seen them everywhere all the time by force, means they're being culturally and physically eradicated as a people. Shut the fuck up 🤣 "multiculturalism" and it just means "I will consume you and you will allow me to do so, but there will be no real cultural exchange".

[readingforaneternity]

forever grateful that The Great Divide came out now when I'm an adult and not a teenager

I would have been fucked if I was still in high school and Noah Kahan dropped TGD

[phleb0tomist]

he would not fucking say that, but with disability.. he would not fucking be able bodied. sick n tired of characters walking away from multiple life changing injuries without a scratch. let’s get some natural consequences in here.

give that knife/sword fight survivor nerve damage. give the character who was shot in the gut a stoma. give that fire survivor lung damage and an oxygen cannula. give that leg injury survivor a cane. give that starvation survivor gastroparesis. give that spinal injury survivor a manual chair or powerchair.

while we’re at it, give your characters congenital disabilities too, just because. give them intellectual and development disabilities. give them acquired and postviral illnesses. dare to make somebody bedbound. for me.

[readingforaneternity]

Got blackberry cherry jam at the Market.

I’ve been tearing it up

[aretasreads]

GODDESS!

[srdcovka]

ever since i was a little girl i knew i was tired

[glitchy-haha]

INCREDIBLY CONCERNING SPIKE IN ANTI-BLACKNESS IS HAPPENING RN.

Some of yall may have heard some of the shit that has been going on right now. I'm gonna give a quick run down of some of the stuff that has been happening. Note, this is not all, and it may never be all as much as I will try to update this.

(I am going to try and compile and briefly explain these as much as I can. There may be misinformation. Please inform me if I got something wrong.)

(This will also be updated with additional information and new topics added.)

1) Racist Chinese Dolls.

There are these dolls in China that are being called "Natasha" baby dolls. These dolls are not only very obvious caricatures of black people, but they are being advertised as a "stress relief" in which the people who buy these abuse it in various ways.

This links to a video of a compilation of the various "uses" of the doll. There are more in the replies of the tweet. (Another link to the same tweet just incase)

2) The Mocking, Abuse, and Dehumanization of Black Children.

Apart from the aforementioned doll, there are apparently people going around mocking, abusing, and dehumanizing black children.

Some people have compared black children to the doll.

Others have been going into African countries and have found ways to mock, abuse, and dehumanize black children for clout.

(Source 1 + Full Video) (Source 2)

There are more videos surfacing.

3) Black people are going missing.

Black people, especially children and teens have recently been going missing at an alarming rate. Some of these same people are turning up dead, deaths being ruled as "suicides."

While it generally unknown why many of these people are going missing, many suspect that their disappearances, deaths, and even lack of coverage is rooted in anti-blackness.

The following is a list of black people that have been reported missing as of recently. Please note that this is not a complete list (it may never be completed due to the fact that many of these disappearances will still occur as time passes) this may contain inaccurate information. Please inform me if that is the case.

By the time you see this, some of these people may have already been found either alive or deceased. This post will be updated overtime.

It is also heavily encouraged that you reblog this with more links to recent cases of missing black people if you are aware of any that aren’t included on this list.

Alexis Shaver

Payton Diver

Nasir Tacuma

Ka’Laya Cooper

Makaila Monae Adam

Moriah Kerre Smith

Uchechi Chijindum Nkemdirim

Victeria Uriah Spear

Rilen Wade (Found. Is Safe)

Leara Sessoms

[blackjame]

Viral Instagram post highlights disproportionate number of Black children reported missing in Virginia

A viral social media post stating there have been 63 Black children reported missing in Virginia since April 1 underscores a serious issue i

[clinquantribbons]

kyle’s always been the pretty boy. the one birds fawn over at the pub, and in the cereal aisle at the shop, and on the midnight train after the captain bullies him into going home and getting some well-deserved rest. old ladies coo at him, waitresses draw hearts on his cheques, his own teammates tease him, for fuck’s sake.

“maybe if kyle bats his eyelashes at ‘em, we can slip past before they notice us.”

“the only way you’re comin’ out with us tonight is if you were a fuckin’ bag over your head. i never get laid when you’re around.”

“price might fall for those eyes, but i won’t. paperwork on my desk by noon, garrick.”

even when he was young, his ma’s girlfriends would laugh about how much trouble he’d cause, all the hearts he was bound to break, when he grew up. he still remembers how his sisters made fun of him come prom season, when he couldn’t decide which of the dozen invitations he received to accept.

kyle’s always been the pretty boy — until an untimely explosion melts the entire right side of his face into something unrecognizable and, in his eyes, horrific. gone is that heart-stopping grin, his silken skin, and quarter-deep dimples. no more of the cheesy winks he loved to throw around, what with his lack of an eyelid.

no-one’s swooning over him anymore. rather than the blood rushing to a handsome someone’s cheeks when he says hello, it drains from their face completely. no-one will look him in the eye nowadays. the pretty single mum down the street who he once had lunch with now goes out of her way to cross the road when she spots him, shielding her children’s’ eyes like the mere sight of him might traumatize them. the grandmas who used to compliment his warm eyes and soft curls stare at him blatantly, piteously, whisper behind their hands when he passes but won’t dare to address him directly. his favorite bartender turns his flirtations to johnny, who, uncharacteristically, doesn’t even have the heart to poke fun at him for it.

but he should be grateful, right? he could’ve died. he’s lucky to even be here. to be walking, talking, his limbs in tact, heart still beating. it could be worse.

that’s what he tells himself every time a toddler wails at the sight of him standing behind them in line at the coffee shop. whenever price gives him that look, full of worry and self-loathing. it could be worse, he tells himself, the first time he sees his mother after the explosion, and she gasps like she can’t recognize her own goddamned son. but he should be grateful.

he damn near throttles laswell when she suggests that he check out a local support group, saying that he needs to talk to someone since he clearly isn’t going to talk to them. talk about what, he wonders. it isn’t as though there’s anything that can be done about it. it’s beyond fixing, the doctors said so themselves. talking about it will only make him out to be some shallow, self-obsessed little prick, who obviously cares more for his vanity than his life.

he knows what he is. he certainly doesn’t need anyone to point it out.

the flier collects dust on his kitchen counter, gets lost in all of his junk mail and get-well-soon cards, damned to oblivion. he forgets about it — for a while at least, until his oldest sister forces her way into his flat and starts cleaning, claiming that their mother would have his head if she saw what a mess he’s made. she tacks it to the fridge, where kyle has no choice but to see it.

“what harm could it do, ky? you’ve been hiding from us for months — we’re worried about you.”

that’s what finally convinces him. not because he thinks he needs it, or believes it’ll do him any good, or even because he wants to soothe their spirits. simply because he wants them off his back, wants to be allowed to wallow in his misery, in peace, just for a little while longer.

so, he goes. he surrounds himself with a bunch of war-torn veterans, with stories so gruesome that even his stomach churns, he sits alone and speaks to no-one, doesn’t look anyone in the eye, and he listens.

he listens to them talk about their dead friends, their battles won, and their loves lost, about their journeys back to health, and their wisdom hard-earned.

one man — pushing eighty and missing both legs — says something that sticks with him.

“you can be mad, you can curse god, you can spend the rest of your life thinkin’ ‘what if’, but it ain’t gonna change shit. you either grow a pair and get over it, or you don’t — if you can’t make peace with that, you’re better off dead.”

yeah, maybe.

he goes again the following tuesday, and the next, until it’s become a regular part of his routine. he sits alone, still, he doesn’t talk much, to anyone, but they come to expect him. they recognize him. they smile when he walks in. no one flinches at the sight of him, no one’s pitying him, no one’s demanding answers he’s not ready to give. they accept him without expecting anything tangible in return, sans his company.

it doesn’t necessarily make him feel better, it doesn’t make him hate the man in the mirror any less, but it gets him out of his flat. it gives him something to tell the team about when they check up on him on sunday nights.

then, about two months into his newfound routine, he spots you, sat on the opposite end of the room, holding space like it’s been yours all along.

the last time your paths crossed was in boot-camp. a lifetime ago, it feels like. before the 141, before the incident. he was somebody else back then. and so, it seems, were you.

he remembers you as an over-eager, overly-confident recruit, like he, himself, was. you’re older now, battle-weary, weathered by war, grief, and the world itself. you sip your coffee through a straw because your hands tremble too fiercely to hold a mug. an angry, red scar cuts your face in two.

you aren’t new around here, that much is made clear by the way they greet you, with hugs and well-wishes. how long’s it been, he wonders, since you got out?

sammy, who runs the group, goes down the line one-by-one, like she always does, asking all the right questions. elijah saw his grandbabies this weekend. cody’s been cleared for active duty — he’ll return to the front lines next month, for better or for worse. olivia’s met somebody, she thinks she’s found the one. kyle listens, but pays especially close attention when it gets to be your turn.

“how was your trip?” sammy asks, and you laugh, albeit nervously.

“weird.” you admit, profoundly. “first vacation i’ve ever taken in my whole fuckin’ life, y’know? i tried to enjoy it, but— my friends wanna go swimming with dolphins, and tan on the beach, and, whole time, i’m thinkin’ that i’ve got no goddamn business flouncing around in a bathing suit, looking the way i do. i just couldn’t wait for it to be over, honestly.”

and, fuck, he gets it. he knows. it’s the very thing he’s been grappling with for the past year. nobody likes to talk about that part, the doubt, the insecurity. but you do, honest and unapologetic, and he wonders if this is what making peace with it looks like.

and then, sammy looks to him. “anything you’d like to share with us today, kyle?”

usually, he’d wave her off. offer her a tight-lipped smile and shake his head. he almost does, if only out of sheer habit. but he catches your gaze from across the circle. your eyes brighten with recognition, and the hard set of your brow softens. you smile at him, a little crookedly, as if you’re eighteen again, unburdened, naive as to what awaits you.

you might as well have grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him around, the way that smile knocks loose all of the things he’s allowed to fester in his heart. for the first time since he started attending the meetings, kyle’s honest. not only with this motley community he has infiltrated, but with himself.

“i had to take all the mirrors outta my flat. couldn’t stand the sight of myself.”

“i always wanted kids, but now— now, i’m scared they’d think me the fuckin’ boogeyman.”

“i dunno who i am anymore.”

his lungs feel tight, his palms slick with sweat, cheeks warm with an awful, feverish sort’ve heat, but he feels lighter than he has since his brothers dragged him from the wreckage. the old man from that first meeting, colby, lays a hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

no one scoffs at him, or calls him petty, or reminds him of how lucky he is. sammy smiles, soft and empathetic. “sometimes, the man who comes back from the war isn’t the same man that left for it. it’s okay to mourn him, kyle.”

you’re waiting for him, standing on the sidewalk outside, stiff with an indefinite, inescapable ache, but smiling still, when it’s time to leave. he hesitates only momentarily when you open your arms for a hug — he’s careful, weary of whatever injuries you might’ve sustained on the field, but you grab him tight, like you know how desperately he needs it.

“s’good to see you, garrick. s’been a long time.”

“fuck, has it.” he laughs, and it sounds foreign in his own ears, before sobering. “it’s good to see you too. really. i didn’t know you were …”

“yeah,” you help him out before he can start floundering. he isn’t the smooth-talker he once was. “a couple years ago, now. s’a long story. one i’m much too sober to tell today.”

“another time then,” he offers, wryly. he understands. he doesn’t like to talk about it either. talking about requires thinking about it, which isn’t good for anyone involved.

you soften, and he watches the scar on your face stretch as your lips pull down. it’s been years, but he still thinks you lovely. “you haven’t been out long, have you?”

“not long enough, no.”

“hm.” you nod, like you understand, but you don’t say you’re sorry, or tell him that it’ll get better. he appreciates that more than you know. “fate’s a funny thing, ain’t it? what’re the odds,”

“it’s a small fuckin’ world,” he murmurs, and your laugh thaws the ice in his chest. “you live close by?”

“just a couple o’ blocks, not too bad.”

“i could walk with you, if you want. or we could—” he stops, swallows hard, trying valiantly to find his nerve. it used to be so easy for him to ask a sweet someone out, he hardly even had to work for it. hell, he’d flirted with you plenty, back in the day. “we could go get that drink,”

it’s soft, uncertain, timid in a way that kyle garrick is not. you simply stare at him for a moment, as if considering him, your gaze painfully soft, before, finally, “i’d like that.”

“yeah?” he murmurs, hopeful.

you laugh, but it isn’t mocking, or cruel. it’s mirthful, almost flattered.

“lead the way, pretty boy.”

[beam-me-up-daddy]

More human!rocky! I wanted to draw him with some of Eridian Rocky’s mannerisms, to get a better feel of how he would be as a human :) his little taps and jazz hands are definitely becoming stims of mine

[fellshish]

i know you said we ride at dawn but i’m not a morning person actually. can we ride after lunch

[readingforaneternity]

No we gotta push it further past lunch bc I need to take my post lunch nap.

[helsinore]

I’m starting to realize we may not all be ready for Racism 102, aka “often times, you don’t think ‘I’m going to be racist,’ you just act on it.”

It does not matter what other reasons you have for being racist. It was still racist. White people lashing out on people of color when In Their Feelings About Something is still racism. White people objectifying people of color for WHATEVER reason is still racism.

[readingforaneternity]

A lot of white ppl get offended when Black, Indigenous, or other POC call them out on racist behaviors.

Not even calling them racist, but being like “hey that thing you did/said is racist and you shouldn’t do it again. Do some research as to why and be better!” Learned behaviors don’t necessarily make a person racist. Especially when they don’t know what said behavior means (but i’m not giving ppl too much grace bc everyone can do research and figure things out).

It’s not necessarily the initial behavior, but the refusal to learn and correct yourself is.

Cause and effect for ppl who still aren’t following.

[readingforaneternity]

Shoutout to people who actually finish tv shows.

I watch enough to get a grasp on the characters and the universe and then go straight to fanfiction

[readingforaneternity]

Dan by Noah Kahan but make it Grace and Rocky