#that thought hurts

[stil-lindigo]

lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)

if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.

--

no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.

I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.

I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.

If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.

[catskullery]

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

imagine getting twenty four hours of a fraction of a taste of what marginalized bloggers on this fucking site have been told "doesn't break TOS" for the past 15 years and deciding to openly threaten to just nuke the entire website lmfao

[druid-for-hire]

[images ID: three images of a comic titled "one must imagine sisyphus happy" by druid-for-hire. it is a visual narrative beginning with someone with wrist pain (depicted by bright orange nerves) working at a drafting table. the reader is shown the same wrist as the person uses it for many everyday tasks such as carrying a grocery basket, pushing elevator buttons, typing, and doing dishes, until the pain dissolves all the panels into chaos. the person then performs several physical therapy exercises until the pain subsides. they sit back down at a desk with their laptop, sigh, and begin typing. a small spark of pain reappears. end id]

a fun little piece i made during the semester and submitted into our school comic anthology! (which you can buy at the Static Fish table at MoCCAFest in NYC ;] ). it's about artists and injury

[sa-dnesss]

nobody talks about the fact that you can have all this crazy shit in your head, and want to open up and talk about your feelings but no matter what, you just can't make out the right words and properly put your thoughts and emotions into words

[chloesimaginationthings]

The tragedy of being William Afton’s daughter in FNAF..

[bixels]

Just gonna have to wait and see, right? Just wait and see! Just gotta wait and see! Who knows, we'll just have to wait and see! It's anybody's guess, we'll just have to wait and see! The future is exciting, we just gotta wait and see!

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

[cerisereids]

𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿, 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿- 𝘀.𝗿.

wc- ~3k

pairing- young dad!spencer reid x bau!mom!reader

summary- for spencer’s first father’s day, you take baby diana to meet her namesake.

warnings- s1!spencer, r is younger than spencer by two years (23&25 respectively), just lots of sweetness and fluff. lmk if i missed anything!

a/n- happy father’s day! i hope you’re all able to spend time with loved ones, and if not, hopefully this can provide some comfort 🩷 this exists in the same universe as this fic! dividers from @saradika-graphics and @reveriesources !!!

“the doctors said she’s been having a good week,” your husband whispers as early morning light casts over your las vegas hotel room, “we should be good to go over there later this morning.”

“good, i’m glad to hear that she’s doing well,” you say back, tone hushed as you rub his scalp. he lets his eyes fall closed, you kiss him on the nose, he sighs contently, “first father’s day…” you trail off, giggling when his eyes snap open.

“i know, i can’t believe it,” a smile grows on his face, and you can’t help but kiss his bunched up cheeks.

it seems like just yesterday you were knocking on spencer’s door, tears in your eyes, a palm flat on your stomach. you remember the nerves swelling in your stomach, acidic bile rising in your throat as he answered the door. you remember his furrowed brow as he asked what was wrong, the panic in his eyes when you pulled out the positive pregnancy test.

you were so young when you’d gotten pregnant, a fresh 22. you were hired onto the bau team only a month before one salacious night out completely altered your lives forever. back then, you could have never imagined the life you’d create with the shy, awkward guy you work with. the fear that once paralyzed you has since dissipated into the most infectious joy, all thanks to your baby girl, diana reid.

she lays to your left in her portable crib, her tiny lips wrapped around her- somehow even tinier- thumb. you and spencer now both lay on your sides, cuddling back into his chest as you watch your baby girl, savoring each breath she takes.

“she’s so special,” spencer whispers against your temple, fingertips lightly raking up and down your arms.

“i know,” you respond, smiling gently at the way her chubby cheeks droop into the mattress. there aren’t enough kisses in the world for those cheeks, you and spencer both agree.

the sun rises on las vegas, still busy from the night before. a warm golden glow filters through the window on your baby, illuminating her as the angel she is. she starts to stir as the sun comes up, rolling over onto her back as she brings her chubby fists to her eyes. you two both smile at the tiny squeaks that escape her lips as she stretches, coming back to the world once more.

spencer’s the first to get up, as always, eagerly hopping over to the crib, leaning over it at the waist.

“hi my sweet baby!” he coos, long fingers wrapping around her tiny belly.

he pulls her to his chest, lightly swaying her back and forth. you revel in the sight. his mussed hair, no gel constricting the natural texture of his curls, the way diana automatically curls into him, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder as if the safest place in the world was spencer reid’s arms. you would argue she’s correct in that.

“good morning, my love,” you coo, and diana smiles at your voice.

“we’re gonna go see grandma today!” spencer exclaims, his volume is hushed but his tone is light and excited, “what do you think? huh?” he lightly rubs her belly and she lets out a tiny squeal, throwing her arms at her dad’s shoulders as she curls in for a hug.

he pulls her to him, deepening the hug. the sight melts your heart. a large hand covers the expanse of her back, the warmth no doubt nearly lulling her back to sleep.

“let’s get you some food, hm?” he murmurs into her temple, carrying her over to the hotel mini fridge, now full of milk bottles.

he hands her to you so he can take off his sleep shirt, before he situates himself on the armchair in the corner of the room, bottle in hand. skin to skin contact has proven to be something healing for both spencer and diana, bonding them tightly. she’s completely a daddy’s girl, and he’s wrapped around her tiny little finger. you love it, especially when you awaken to your shirtless husband cradling your child. the sight could be in the louvre.

you take a few more moments to say good morning to your girl, holding her close and peppering her face with kisses. you reluctantly hand her off to her dad, though you’re eager to get back in bed. it’s early, both of your sleep schedules still haven’t completely caught up to hers. thankfully for you, spencer wants nothing more than to take care of his girls.

once she’s fed well and burped, you finally drag yourself out of bed. you head over to the bag you packed for diana, pulling out a couple outfit choices for the day. she’s insanely spoiled, your team constantly comes to work with gifts for her- clothes from penelope, a toy from hotch that jack no longer plays with, stuffies from derek.

you pull out a frilly top-skirt set from penelope, and a pale blue dress from jj, “which one?” you ask, looking at spencer over your shoulder, each outfit held up in one hand.

“the dress. my mom’s favorite color is blue,” he looks up smiling as he finishes his sentence. the smile fades quickly, though, as his eyes scan your twisted figure, still clad in your lace camisole and matching shorts, “you look really beautiful, by the way.”

your face flames, a smile pursing your lips, “right back atcha,” you wink, dropping the top and skirt back into the suitcase.

“does my baby girl wanna get dressed?” you ask, reaching for her excitedly. she waves her arms, her own expression of joy as she sees her mama.

she giggles lightly as she’s passed from spencer to you, you lightly pat her bottom and sit with her on the bed. you lay her down, flat on her back as you change her from her pink onesie littered with white hearts (from auntie penelope, of course), and slip her into the dress. spencer, now fully dressed for the day, tosses a white headband onto the bed for her.

you stretch it over her head and smile at the white flower resting atop the mess of curls on her head. the prettiest baby girl in the world, you’re convinced. she got her dad’s hair, his big, brown eyes, but your nose, your smile. she’s an amalgamation of you and the love of your life. she’s perfect.

“you’re so pretty sweet baby!” you coo, your pointer fingers lightly digging into her tummy. she squeals, the cutest smile on her face as her chubby hands wrap around each finger.

spencer scoops her from the bed, occupying her so you can get dressed yourself. you tug on a flowy babydoll dress, it’s white, so you pair it with light blue accessories to match your mini me. you gather all of your parenting essentials, as well as your wallets, room keys, and phones before heading out in search of coffee. what spencer doesn’t see, though, is the large bag of gifts you’ve discreetly placed in the bottom pouch

there’s a small restaurant on the corner of the block, advertising their breakfast with a big, bright sign. you are in las vegas, after all. diana’s a huge hit inside the restaurant, she always is, your waitresses and patrons alike just gushing over her as you and spencer eat your meal.

spencer doles out small pieces of egg and sausage onto the tray of diana’s high chair, which she gobbles up immediately. she eats like she’s starved, you swear. you fiddle around in your purse while he does this, smiling when your fingers land on the firm card stock you were looking for.

“spence…” you trail off, “this is your first father’s day, and i know you want to spend it with your mom. i can’t wait,” you smile genuinely, you mean it. things with spencer happened so fast when you got pregnant, your parents arranging a wedding, to the birth of the baby itself. between that and work, you’d only gotten the chance to meet spencer’s mom once, shortly before the baby was born.

“you have presents for me, though, don’t you?” he eyes you wearily, figuring you out immediately, of course.

“i couldn’t not!!!” you gush, a smile breaking forth on both your faces, “it’s your first father’s day!!! some of this stuff i bought before you even mentioned coming to vegas, i was so excited!” you defend yourself as you push the card across the table.

it’s a small, cheesy one you nabbed from cvs. a large star amongst smaller ones lays in the night sky, with white text underneath it that reads ‘you’re a star!’ he chuckles, opening to the inside, where it says, ‘keep shining! happy father’s day!’

you couldn’t help but write your own note to him at the bottom. gushing about how good of a father he is, as much as you could in a paragraph. you see tears well up in his eyes when he sees the small scribbles at the top of the card, courtesy of baby diana.

“do you like it? i gave her the pen and held the card up to her hand, like her own little signature!” you exclaim, lightly clapping your hands together in excitement.

“it’s perfect. i love it,” his voice is wobbly as he presses the cuff of his sleeve to his damp eyes. you take his free hand and squeeze it, soothingly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles before reaching into the large bag that’s sat underneath the table the whole meal.

“ok, this first one is from diana!” you pass him a small gift bag, green tissue paper sticking out of the top, “we were at the store together and she kept pointing at it. i don’t know how she knew. i think she got your smarts.”

you smirk, resting your chin on your folded hands, elbows planted on the table as he opens it. it’s a book, one he can read to diana before he goes to sleep, titled ‘i love my dad!’ the tears finally spill over his lash line, and you well up yourself.

“you’re lying,” he scoffs, an awed smile on his lips, “no way she kept pointing at this?” he shakes his head in disbelief, “you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“spencer!” you giggle, “it’s the truth!” you reach for his hand over the table, lacing your fingers together, “i took her to target a few weeks ago, and i had already finished shopping for you. we were over by the books and we headed over to the children’s section, so i asked her which one she wanted to see if she would point,” you explain, and he hangs on to your every word, “she did. that was the one. like i told you, she’s got your smarts, babe.”

“that’s incredible,” he breathes, his free hand reaching for diana, a long finger rubbing against her chubby cheek, “you’re so sweet! thank you, baby!” he punctuates his gratitude with a kiss on her cheek, before leaning across the table to kiss your lips.

“you’re the best wife ever,” he murmurs against your lips, low and gravelly, before sitting back down in the booth.

“you’re the best husband ever!” you exclaim, before retrieving the rest of his gifts.

spencer leaves the restaurant with his family, heart- and belly- immensely full. it’s then that they begin their journey to the bennington sanitarium. nerves begin to bubble in his chest the closer they get. though he’s excited for his mom to finally meet her namesake, he can’t shake the feeling, like a puzzle piece out of place, whenever he’s back home.

he pushes the stroller up the pathway to the front entrance, smiling warmly at the nurse at the front desk. her eyes immediately light up at the sight of the baby, wide eyed and smiley in her stroller.

“dr. reid! it’s so good to see you! this must be little diana!” she coos, getting up from behind the desk to get a better look at his sweet angel.

“hi! yes it is, she’s here to meet her grandma,” he beams.

“well, she’s been having a great morning. she can’t wait to see you guys, she’s been talking about it all week,” the nurse smiles as she goes back to her seat to check them in.

his heart stops when he sees his mom, her hands are fidgeting with the book in her lap as she sits in her favorite armchair. her gaze turns upward when she senses him approach, her eyes lighting up at what she sees.

“spencer!” she gushes, “who have you brought to me?” she smiles gently, her hand reaching for the edge of the crib.

“hi mom,” he says gently, “this is your granddaughter, meet diana reid.”

“wow…” she trails off, eyes shining with pride, “she’s so beautiful,” she shakes her head in disbelief as she takes it all in. she then reaches for his wife, taking her palm in hers as she gazes up to her, “thank you for taking care of him. of both of them,” diana pats the top of his wife’s hand after she says it, and all three of them are tearing up.

“of course,” his wife replies, her voice shaky, “wouldn’t want it any other way,” she reassures his mother, and he swears his falls in love all over again.

“you’re treating her well, yes?” diana points accusatorially at him, and his cheeks tint slightly pink.

“course i am, mom. just like you taught me,” he smiles, leaning down to get baby diana from her stroller.

“here,” he huffs, passing the baby to his mother, “she wants to say hi.”

“she does?” his mother coos, her eyes glossy as she gently holds her granddaughter. spencer stays right next to them, unable to remove his eyes from the scene unfolding in front of him. his heart strings twist and turn, a wave of emotion flooding through him like a tsunami.

“isn’t she special?” he asks, looking up at his mom.

“she is. she’s perfect, i’m so proud of you, my spencer,” she glances at him, a soft smile spreading across her lips.

“i think she might like the garden, do you want to go on a walk?” he asks her, and she’s keen to this suggestion.

he takes baby diana back, placing her back in her stroller. his wife takes over the pushing, as he and his mom walk arm in arm to the garden. they park the stroller up front, the nurse at the front desk watching over it. his wife holds baby diana as they walk, and his daughter takes in each and every flower. they’re her new favorite things recently, she lights up when they take her on walks past their neighbors’ flower gardens. he knew she would love it here, and he’s validated with every gasp and giggle that escapes his baby’s lips.

his wife eventually sets baby diana’s tiny feet on the ground, holding her hands as she tries to walk with her. she takes a few steps before she stumbles, and his mom just lights up at the sight of her walking.

“i can’t believe she’s already taken her first steps!” his mother gasps, and spencer’s heart cracks just a little.

“we can’t either,” he breathes out as his wife scoops her back up.

they find a bench underneath an apple blossom tree, taking a quick break for diana to rest, and baby diana to have a snack. the chubby baby rests on his wife’s lap, sucking on an applesauce pouch, while his mother plays with her. it’s a perfect image, so much so that spencer takes out his phone, opening the camera.

“say cheese!” he prompts, holding up the phone.

the two women lean into each other, his wife propping up the baby in between them. their smiles are huge, infectious, and it makes his heart swell, warmth flooding his veins.

“beautiful!” he cheers, “my girls are so beautiful,” he murmurs once more, it’s low, more for himself. his wife hears, though, because of course she does. she leans up to press a kiss to his lips, passing off baby diana in the process.

“would you like to keep going, diana?” she asks his mom, and he takes a backseat, for once. he’s in awe of the calming effect you have on his mother, eternally thankful that he’s found someone who loves him and his family this much. it’s a luxury he never thought he’d be afforded, and it’s one he clings onto for dear life.

diana’s tired, so they return to the lounge. they exchange their goodbyes, which consist of many hugs and promises to come visit more. diana pinches his cheek before they leave, a reminder that he’ll always be her baby.

once they’ve exited the building, his wife leans up on her tip toes, her arms wrapping around his bicep as she presses a light kiss to his lips.

“that was so nice,” she coos, her lips resting on hers before they continue walking.

“you’re so sweet to my mother. thank you,” he says earnestly, “she really likes you.”

“i know how much she means to you, spencer,” she says, arm staying looped in his as they walk back to their hotel, “i love you, which means i love her, too. it helps that she’s an amazing woman, who’s raised an amazing son,” she lightly nudges his shoulder, and he blushes.

“this was an amazing father’s day, thank you so much,” he stops to kiss you once more. his heart flutters at the softness of her lips on his, the taste of her sweet lipgloss dancing on his tongue. his heart pounds against his chest, butterflies swarming through his stomach.

“i already can’t wait for next year,” she smiles, looking up at him with a cunning gleam in her eye. he returns her loaded stare, eager to return to their hotel so they can put diana down for her nap, and spare a few minutes, just the two of them.

[qiinamii]

crown swap

[yousaveeveryonebutwhosavesyou]

I'm proud of you for making it this far.

[ro1971]

Yo so it’s April 27 you know what that means. Happy Death Day, Jason Todd

[barghest-land]

ata tu corazón, mi amor, y arrástralo por la tierra

[egophiliac]

well, I can't say I expected the new chapter to feature Idia (metaphorically) going to (metaphorical) hell, getting a pep talk from his (metaphorical) Phantom brother which helps him finally move on once and for all from his brother's death, and (metaphorically) overblotting again to fight his way back out of (metaphorical) hell, only to have his darkest fear (non-metaphorically) come true when his mom goes through his computer and finds all his secret files. but I am glad it did!

also this is all a flashback for the purpose of explaining to our group what the heck is going on (whether or not any of it is getting through is another matter)

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF game Vanessa is starting to control Glitchtrap,,

[bixels]

Scary Sunset.

I'm concepting things way outta order in this story, but I'm sure you can piece things together. Context is for a storybeat where, after defeating and capturing Adagio (thus having all three sirens in her possession), Sunset enacts her revenge plot to release the sirens on Canterlot as Thea discovers she's been manipulated. In a confrontation, the two scuffle and fight over the siren orbs while Sunset struggles with her conflicting wants and emotions.