#i'm genuinely thinking of splitting the household entirely

[sometownie]

so now that i've given quick makeovers to all Whitewave sims, i'm now thinking of moving every sim out of their houses and building new ones! the need for rework on the houses is just that much 😩

ofc i won't build entirely new houses for the Blacks or the Limestones, the houses are too grand and i really love them.

[aghoststorycomic]

A GHOST STORY HAS (NOT) UPDATED!! THE AUTHOR IS DEAD....TIRED.

TODAY’S UPDATE: HERE START THIS CHAPTER: HERE START FROM THE TOP: HERE

first, because of how flighty i've been with updates, i would like to encourage you to use an RSS feed reader and add the "a ghost story" RSS feed to it by clicking "find feeds in page" or "add new feed" and entering www.aghoststorycomic.com/. or dragging and dropping it if you use a different RSS feed reader. rss feeds are how the ancients used to navigate the web and through it they knew when things updated immediately. using an RSS feed has 2 major benefits: 1. you can get updates without having to use any social media or following my social media. 2. you can keep up with the comic when updates get sporadic without having to hopefully remember to check it some day in the future.

second, i do not like to advertise the patreon when i am behind on rewards and have been unable to deliver anything of interest beyond comic pages for a while, but consider throwing a buck a month at me to see pages a month early. that's something.

i realize that webcomics really need reliability to survive, so i'm genuinely so annoyed and so unhappy that i'm in this situation. i toughed it out as long as i could, but this final leg has been the fucking pits. it sucks. effexor is a notorious nightmare of an antidepressant to get off of and boy were they not kidding. i'm down to a quarter pill doses, but my body is rampaging because i'm not dosing it with the norepinephrine treat its become accustomed to. its never so much that i'm like, in acute physical or mental distress, its just bad enough that it makes working consistently hard. i had a buffer up until this last month when it was completely used up because i was too busy thinking about how bad my entire face hurt. or how my eyes felt like they were vibrating out of my skull.

i started effexor two years ago and was on a pretty high dose. i got the most bizarre and unpleasant side effects on this drug and the reason i didn't do anything about it was because the drug's primary effect was to instill me with a sense of overwhelming apathy. this is a great effect (intentional? i'm not sure) to have when the symptom you were trying to treat was "unbearable anxiety". not joking, it worked incredibly well for at least getting me mentally back to a baseline level of sane. after that, though, with nothing irrational to be apathetic about, my brain decided that household chores, basic hygiene, and my job were pointless and stupid or unpleasant. food tasted bad. not bland, bad. showers felt annoying instead of relaxing. i would look at the dishes piling up in the sink, the barest minimum i should be doing around the house on a daily basis to maintain a comfortable living space and would think "well that is just impossible".

but i was also putting up with a lot of stupid shit from my body. it made my right hand fingers and lower back feel distractingly stiff. my lip was split for a year straight and would re-open every time i opened my mouth. my nose and gums had open sores. i got a rash on my face that lead me down a rabbit hole for months trying to figure out if i do or don't have lupus (i dont)(neat). i would get insomnia so bad i would be up for 36 hours regularly, but i was too tired to get anything done. and with the withdrawals i would get all of those and as an added bonus i got to enjoy body aches that felt like bruises all over my body. they hurt so bad that laying on the couch was uncomfortable as a consequence of newton's third law. and i'd have weird meltdowns about the cats hating me (?). i am only boring you with all of this whining to try to explain the amount of distractions i was fending off while still trying to be a productive member of a household, experiencing common adulthood problems galore (basement....), and trying to create comics for you and for me. i am telling you this because it sucked, and sucks, so bad.

on top of everything else, the impact the effexor has had on my creativity has been eye-opening. i realized there was a correlation between my dosages increasing and my ability to draw nosediving. the "impossible" feeling of the dishes carried over to my comic work which got lazier and worse and i knew it and it was frustrating. there is a special kind of shame and guilt you develop when you charge someone for something you know is not your best work, just the best you could do in the moment. or when you are just sitting in front of your computer staring at it blankly and thinking about how much you'd like to draw if only it wasn't the hardest thing in the world. you feel like a lazy sack of shit, knowing that there is nothing physically preventing you from working. your brain simply cannot make

i started the weaning process in i think november so am pretty much on track for this to actually be over soon. there's light at the end of the tunnel. its happening. and there are bright moments in between doses where i can actually do things. like right now! i drew this very easily instead of being in hell for hours. but these precious moments are short lived until the withdrawal symptoms start up and i have to take another pill that nerfs me.

anyway APRIL 6th! dont forget me or ill cry.

[queenofbaws]

Do you have any headcanons for Kaylee and Caleb? I'm writing a fic about these two and the way you wrote Kaylee in my last ask was so fascinating cuz it's like the complete opposite of how I write her and now I'm just really curious about how you interpret them in your works.

kdjfhsjdkfh oh man, DO I EVER!!! honestly, a HUGE reason i started writing like wringing blood from a stone is because after playing the quarry, i just had...too many hackett headcanons and needed to put them all in one place, but ahhh i'd be thrilled to talk a bit about how i headcanon the hackett kids!!!

(fair warning, i am POSITIVE this will end up being a long, rambly jumble, haha!)

before i split them up, i just want to say that genuinely i think the most important piece of how i characterize the hackett kids is...they're best friends. while we see some (read: a lot) of friction between the rest of the hackett fam, in my heart of hearts and soul of souls, kaylee and caleb are best, best friends who would do anything for each other and always have each other's backs. i think they fight sometimes, like siblings do, but they never stay mad, and a lot of the time they rely on each other to balance each other out and keep each other in check in an otherwise dysfunctional household.

them being besties is just really important to me personally 😭

kaylee - athletic, considerate, lonely, defiant

so, obviously with kaylee, we get...just about nothing, right? very, very little. we have tidbits like travis saying she's one of the kindest people in the world, we have constance's explosive response to losing her, and we have the letter she writes to constance. for me, a lot of how i picture kaylee comes from that letter - she wants to tell people about what's going on with the family, she thinks the world will understand if only they can stop keeping it a secret, and she keeps having nightmares about the fire.

she does not, however, mention feeling any kind of guilt (past "wishing it never happened"), which i think is a very important thing to note for the hacketts in general, BUT is sort of the key aspect that i find so fucking INTERESTING about kaylee specifically. she wants out. she wants to be free of all this. she wants to be anywhere else but in hackett house...

and she's fucking angry. PERSONALLY, i don't get the sense that she's angry AT anyone in particular - she's not BLAMING constance in her letter, even acknowledges that the family's just trying to keep them all safe - but boy, she's MAD, and for me, all that stuff mashed together formed the image of a girl with a hell of a chip on her shoulder. that isn't to say i don't think she's still kind, or sweet, or any of that - i do! i do, in fact, think she's very likely the hacketts' buoy, so to speak - but i also think she's probably got...one hell of a temper on her.

so in my head, kaylee is sort of a wildcard, and a risky one to play, at that - she's the baby of the family and (judging by constance's...everything) is probably used to being spoiled to a certain degree, her desire to get away from the life they're living combined with her kind/helpful nature leads me to believe she's probably something of a people-pleaser, or at the very least, quick to try and make friends with, say, the campers/counselors...and if you cross her, she might forgive you, but she will not forget, and she probably won't feel too bad about doing whatever it takes to get even.

(sidenote: a LOT of how i headcanon kaylee aaaaaaactually depends very heavily on how i headcanon chris. i imagine the two of them are very, very, very similar. people love them! but watch out! there's something not entirely pleasant hiding juuust below the surface, if you go poking around.)

caleb - brooding, responsible, sensitive, creative

oh caleb. OH caleb. my sweet summer child.

i don't want to reduce how i characterize him by saying "whatever kaylee is, he's the flipside," but it's not TERRIBLY far off. it's not totally right, it's just not totally wrong either.

i think the trait that i hinge caleb's characterization on the most is, uh, guilt. when i think of caleb, i think a lot of guilt. different kinds of guilt, too - guilt because of what happened with silas, guilt because he was the one to bite chris and kaylee and make them sick, guilt that everything the family is going through comes from something he did when he was too young to really think it through, and just your plain old run-of-the-mill eldest sibling guilt that we're ALL dealing with and definitely not projecting onto fictional characters, right? right???? ;P hehehe

what he and kay definitely have in common, at least insofar as i see them, is that anger. that temper. i think all the hacketts have it, i just think they present it differently. so while i imagine kaylee is more prone to sudden outbursts, i feel like because of his guilt, a lot of caleb's anger is the quiet, slow-burning sort that he mostly turns inward, at himself...until the full moon. then you better watch out, you better watch out, you beTTER WATCH OUT, YOU BETTER WATCH OUT...

outside of that, though, i imagine him to be the quieter sibling, and the more even-keeled. he's sort of kaylee's edit function, and is very used to being the one who gets to cash the checks her mouth writes. since he's the older of them, he wants to be the more responsible, and he's always trying so, so hard to prove himself to the rest of the family. because of that guilt.

(sidenote related to my previous sidenote: a lot of how i headcanon caleb is, SURPRISE, based on how i headcanon travis. maybe it's just for my own fic-writing motivations, maybe it's a healthy dollop of that projection i mentioned before, but i very, VERY much imagine that the caleb - kaylee dynamic echoes the travis - chris dynamic...but since we don't REALLY see travis and chris interact much, this is just headcanon inception, huh??????)

[momentspassd]

"I suppose I should put something in my stomach," the brunette's lip curled unfavorably, "if I'm gonna go drown my veins with alcohol." In doing her best not to get too handsy with the cupcake Nell split the thing and handed over half to the waitress. "To—" the chef began, bumping the torn mess with Tefi's piece as she began a toast, "life savagely making us thirty-two." Before she took a bite Nell visibly shuddered. That teenage dreamer whose only goal had been to get out of Blue Harbor never fathomed that this day would come.

The woman truly was Forever Young come to life.

It was easy to feel old in her early thirties. Since she had been a preteen she'd been living an adult life. A job too young, a household to take care of and support before she genuinely knew what it meant, and a dependent when that was what she should have been. Nell had been working and grinding for decades by now. Which gave way to how she partied and let loose when those rare moments were upon her.

Maybe the local couldn't sympathize with Tefi over exact reasons, but she could recognize the loneliness and they could bond on the sheer fact of their desire, no, make that a need, for a bigger life. Individually they'd both known they were built for something bigger and brighter, and to find themselves stuck where they hadn't been destined was heartbreaking and isolating all on its own. When they'd first met maybe something in Nell had recognized that familiar thing in her friend, something that over time had begun to develop deeper ties.

A friendship that had growing roots.

As the chef tugged Tefi along she nibbled another bite of the birthday dessert in hand. She'd never really had much of a sweet tooth but the bittersweetness of the moment damn near compelled her to nose dive right into the sugary comfort. So many of her emotions had dried up and become a desert, a self preservation thing ( because how would she still be standing if she let herself feel each and every one of her losses? ), so her friend's tears were difficult to manage. "So, how do we dry up those eyes?" It was attempted humor, evident by the smirk on her lips and the playful tone she spoke in. To further assure she was only lightly teasing Tefi, the local gently nudged her elbow into the figure made for Hollywood at her side.

"Should we go get dressed the fuck up to the nines and slaughter this town? So damn hot we have Vogue putting us on speed dial?"

Fake it til you make it, right?

Plus, Nell had never forgotten what her mother had responded with when she'd once asked why she always did up her hair and makeup before leaving the house. Always dressed nice as well. 'Because, baby, you never know who you're gonna run into.'

You hear a few stories of a model or actress getting spotted at a mall or hailing a cab and think it's possible for you too.

"Darling babe," emerald hues latched onto Tefi's sad gaze, "that's my specialty." Unfortunately there was no easier way to forget who the fuck you were and what your lot in life was than that. "But I think we need to do it up bigger than that. It's your birthday and I feel like this entire sleepy little town needs to know that. So let's ring in thirty-two years of terror with a bang."

No more of this feeling sorry for herself garbage. Tonight Tefi was going to remember who the fuck she was.

tefi had been known for many things throughout her life, but having tact was not one of them. decorum was probably a better word for it. whether she never learned how to behave in public or just never bothered to learn, bursting into tears outside of a bakery was very low on the list of things tefi did that were considered inappropriate in polite society. in other circumstances, crying was a good tool to get sympathy from people that were all too willing to make a pretty girl smile. sometimes, it made people look at her like she was insane. nell didn’t run for the hills, at the very least, when her recently made friend let sadness overcome her.

what was that saying? like called to like. tefi and nell found each other in the blue harbor wasteland like a lighthouse beacon in the darkest sea. instantly, a friendship blossomed on the basis of both being beautiful and a fan of alcoholic drinks, much like most of tefi’s friendships since middle school. there was a hint of their relationship deepening, turning into something more genuine than nights at bars and mimosas over brunch. though tears were still flowing freely down her cheeks, nell made her laugh when she grabbed for her hand and pulled her up from the table. “okayyyyy!” tefi whined childlishly, though didn’t make much of a real protest.

so, everyone else in her life didn’t want to celebrate her birth. most of them had plenty of reasons not to, but even her own brothers couldn’t spare a simple text? her mom couldn’t answer the phone when she called? even the few friends she had made in blue harbor, sans nell, were unavailable for some reason or another. it was all so depressing. tefi had burned many bridges without ever realizing it, unable to feel the heat on her back once she lit a match and turned away, so when it turned out that no one cared enough about her to wish her a happy birthday, it was somewhat of a surprise. thank god for nell, then.  they were two extremely hot women in a podunk town. they should’ve both netted at least two marriage proposals by now. by that very hour, in fact! what tefi needed was some inebriation to make her forget just how shitty her life was currently.

she laughed again, tears drying up, when nell pushed the cupcake into her mouth. “only if you split it with me.” it had been an impulse purchase, something sweet to make her mood just a tiny bit better, but sugar didn’t seem to lift her spirits like it did when she was eight and her parents gave her a whole box of fruit by the foot just so she’d get out of their hair. “well, thank you, fellow young, gorgeous lady.” though thirty-two surely didn’t feel so young anymore.

tefi mulled her next question… hm, within reason? well, that was the crux of her problem. she didn’t know what she wanted. she knew exactly what she wanted. she wanted foster to feel as terrible as she did; she wanted to be famous and never have to serve a plate of roast beef to some old ass man ever again; she wanted to go back in time to last year before she was reminded of her marital status and all she had to worry about was getting to a beverly hills estate sale first so she could have first pick of everything. she wanted her collection of vintage clothing that her now ex-fiancé donated to goodwill. most of all, she wanted to know that somebody loved her. really loved her, flaws and all. none of that was attainable, it seemed (especially the whole time travel thing). so, she settled for the easier answer of all: “within reason, i want to get so fucking fucked up that i can’t remember my name. think you can help with that?”

[masterwords]

Hey! I know I have send a lot of asks by now, and I'm sorry, but I just really enjoy you're writing. If you ever feel like you are not in the mood to write a certain thing I wouldn't mind at all.

Anyway, I just reread "Fall On Me" for like the fifth time and I just would love more of someone stepping in to help Hotch when he's having a bad day. Because sometimes out of nowhere for no reason at all everything that ever happened to you just comes crushing down on you and you just need a little help. Pairings (romantic or friendship) and setting are entirely up to you- I'm open for anything.

I would however not mind if you included Jack a bit (you obviously fon't have to). I personally come from a household of depression, so I know how it affects a child, especially if they don't really undertand it yet and I firmly belive that it's possible (or even likely) Hotch suffers from (high functioning) depression.

Hope you have an amazing day!

~🍉

Hi 🍉 anon! First of all, thank you so much! I hope things are going great for you! I could never get tired of asks, really. I may not get to them quickly (mostly because I have to wait until the inspiration hits and then I get very carried away with them) but I LOVE to get them so much. Please never feel bad sending me ideas you have, I love to hear them and I love to write them! <3 I agree very much, I think it's very likely that Hotch suffers from depression - both situational and chronic. I had an idea for a story, and began writing it but it got a little off topic - I will continue the story and post it soon because I'm really liking it, but in the meantime, I found another way to honor this ask that fit better and I really hope you like it! I was watching 03x09 - Penelope and this struck me as a perfect opportunity. It is Hotch + Morgan, but only platonic in their own unique way. Honestly based this entire story on Rossi telling Hotch he looks like crap and Hotch saying he felt like crap. Felt right.

Warnings: faith, blood, divorce, depression

Words: 2375

**

“How's your faith?” Rossi asked, peering up at Morgan with a strange look on his face. It was part superiority, part genuine concern. He'd crossed some lines over the course of this case, played bad cop more often than he cared to in order to crack it and was feeling some guilt. His relationship with Morgan was already rocky, he hadn't earned the other man's trust but he was doing what he could in the way he thought was best – brutal honesty. Morgan wouldn't tolerate lies, that much was certain. It was clear from the start. He'd get further by pissing him off with the ugly truth than placating him with pretty lies. He watched the way Morgan absorbed the question and glanced immediately at Hotch, didn't even consider where his eyes would go. Hotch wasn't looking at him though, he was lost in the distance, in a faraway thought that read as purely sad on his features. He looked tired, ready to collapse right there in the middle of the BAU. For a split second, while Morgan regarded Hotch, he thought he saw something. A flash, something that coursed like electricity through Morgan and then it was gone. A skilled profiler didn't miss little things like that, but it didn't mean he knew how to interpret every single one. He puzzled over it while Morgan chose his words.

“Day to day...” he replied, letting his eyes drag from Hotch to Rossi to the floor before leaving. It took a moment of contemplation, but soon after Rossi pulled himself to standing, clasped Hotch on the shoulder and silently took his leave. There Hotch stood alone with his memories, with the weight of the last week, the bullet that tore through Penelope Garcia and threatened to rip apart his entire team and he knew he had to wait. This was his floor, the Captain had to go down with his ship and that meant that tonight, there was no rest for the weary. He would answer questions, fill out reports, justify JJ's shot and submit a request for a new door. One by one people left, jobs done, until Hotch was alone with his pounding headache and the deafening roar of his failures. They should have been able to apprehend Colby without loss of life, they should have been able to do a lot of things differently.

His car keys burned in his palm, the shiny new silver key staring up at him. Taunting him. He'd signed the lease a week ago, spent every day during any break he got slowly throwing boxes Haley had packed for him into his SUV and carting them into the new apartment. Nothing was final, they were separated he kept telling himself. Things could change, it was all he had and deep inside he knew it was only a matter of time. Penelope had been shot, the team was rallying around her and trying to solve a case they weren't supposed to be a part of, they had IA in their faces and during the only hours he had to himself, no matter what time of day, he was hauling his life from the home he wanted to the one he despised. He would show up and, if it was a decent hour, Haley would smile, hand him a mug of tea and visit with him on the porch while Jack hugged his legs. She would ask about Penelope, genuinely concerned, tell him to keep her in the loop because Penelope was family, they all were. And then he would throw his boxes into the vehicle and leave them behind. Hope dashed, time and again. Each time he thought maybe she would ask him in if he just gave her enough. If it was too late or too early, he would find the boxes stacked in the garage with a little note. Maybe he could have gone inside but it wasn't his home anymore, he had a new key on his key ring.

He needed to use the doorbell now.

It was late when he made his stop by Haley's and grabbed the few boxes that were outside, stacked neatly with a note letting him know she was thinking about Penelope, she'd seen the news coverage of what happened. He hefted the boxes into his car and drove away into the night, wondering whether he wanted to deal with them or just find a hotel to sleep at.

He chose the apartment, and with an arm full of boxes he approached his door, keys at the ready. On the stoop, waiting expectantly, was Morgan. Hotch stopped and blinked, wondering if he could trust his tired eyes, he hadn't told anyone where he lived.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, and Morgan groaned, extending his hand and letting Hotch pull him to his feet while balancing his box precariously beneath the other arm. He had a pretty good guess as to how Morgan got his new address, but it didn't matter. It really didn't, he was private but he wasn't trying to go out of his way to hide things. He just didn't advertise his private life, there was a distinct difference in his book. He watched as Morgan crouched and picked up a bag of Chinese takeout and a six pack of beer, followed it up with an almost childish look of expectation. There was an immediate rush of irritation, all Hotch wanted to do was sleep, not entertain a visitor.

“I thought you looked like you could use some company,” he said softly. He hesitated, thought about leaving it there, making it about Hotch, but it was more than that and he owed Hotch the truth. “And I could use the same. If you don't mind. It's been a rough week.”

“Figured my face would be the last one you'd want to see for a while...”

“Yeah, well, you're not wrong. But here's the thing...I don't have to make those decisions and I'm glad. IA comes down on us, you put yourself right there in front and take the heat. You had to look Garcia in the eye while she was in a hospital bed and reprimand her, put her on suspension...I know that was hard on you, I know you hated every second of that...I'm not stupid. I was mad, of course, but you put your entire career on the line because of your faith in her...Hotch, come on. I mean if you want me to take my dinner and go...”

Hotch fumbled with the key, turned it over in his hand. His head was throbbing, all he wanted was to throw his box inside and find a hotel. Somewhere to hide, no strings attached. He could handle a lot, he could deflect most of the ugly things that happened but a case that involved his colleagues, someone like Penelope, his shields were down. There were tears burning hot behind his eyes and something about Morgan's warmth was frustrating and appealing.

“I assumed you'd be with Garcia tonight,” he whispered, and Morgan moved closer, pulled Hotch's eyes to him, refused to release him from the moment.

“Well, Prentiss and JJ insisted they have a girl's night and I didn't make the invite list...”

He paused, cracked a smile and expected Hotch to mimic it but it didn't happen. He'd never seen Hotch look so defeated.

“Hotch? Look man, if you don't want me here, I can head home...”

“No,” Hotch sighed, unlocking his door. He wasn't ready to let anyone into his apartment, to see how he'd been living but his desperation for Morgan's company outweighed his need for privacy. He pushed the door open, hung his head in shame as he hefted the box up against the wall. Waiting for Morgan to say something, comment on the unpacked boxes or the lack of furniture, the way a pile of boxes was where he threw his jacket or set his briefcase on the kitchen counter. “I'm sorry I don't have much...”

Morgan stood there for a minute, refused to back down or run away from how raw Hotch was. He could count on one hand how many times over the years he'd had to be gentle with Hotch, and standing there, eyes darting around the room, he knew this to be one of those times. Something had drawn him here, he could have gone home, could have gone anywhere but just like he'd prayed for the first time in 20 years as Penelope was clinging desperately to life on the operating table, something inexplicably out of his control had pulled him here to this moment. Good or bad, he was in it now.

“You got a floor, and some boxes, that's a good enough table for me.”

Seated cross-legged on the floor, they spread their food over the top of a couple of boxes, ate with disposable chopsticks and argued over the validity of water chestnuts as a food item, whether egg rolls should be dipped in hot mustard or sweet and sour sauce. The smiles were genuine if not a little ragged, both of them exhausted and just clinging to the release of a case being done, the danger abated for the time being. A few days off, some rest. Morgan wanted to ask Hotch when he moved, but seeing him with the box in his arms that night he knew the answer already – somehow, during any spare moment, he was picking up the pieces of his broken life. Taking Morgan's phone calls and saying goodbye to his son in the same breath. Promising he'd be back to each of them, pulled in both directions over and over again until he was threadbare, ready to snap.

His phone buzzed on the floor beside him and he excused himself, it was Haley. Morgan could tell, his mood seemed to sour immediately, he couldn't hear what she was saying but he could hear the tone of her voice. Instinctively he looked down, poked at his food until he was full and began nosing around inside of one of the boxes they'd eaten on labeled KITCHEN. Easy things to find places for, plates and silverware, a few coffee mugs wrapped in tissue paper. He could hear Hotch's voice soften, knew Jack was on the phone now and he'd be on his own for a bit so he tossed their empty boxes into the trash, threw the rest into the empty fridge and stood to stretch himself out. When Hotch's bedroom door shut, he thought about leaving, but something pulled at him, made him stick around so to keep his hands busy (and because he knew Hotch would hate it) he began unpacking the KITCHEN box. First he set out the coffee pot and the tea kettle, and then he went about choosing cupboards and drawers, overstepping about a million and half boundaries in one fell swoop. Thought he was hilarious more than once at the items he chose to put in certain places, hoping to get a smile or a rise out of the other man. He realized as he was unpacking that Hotch had probably not even slept there yet, that he'd more than likely been moving himself in while living out of a hotel room and a suit case, showing up to work like everything was perfectly normal. To his knowledge, no one but him knew about Haley though Penelope had asked him if he knew why Hotch submitted a change of address. He skirted the issue, said he had no idea and felt terrible about lying but it isn't his secret to divulge. He would rather ask Penelope for forgiveness later than betray Hotch now.

By the time Hotch reappeared in the front room Morgan had unpacked nearly the entire kitchen using his nervous energy as fuel. Morgan didn't say a word, could see that he'd been crying and was doing his best to keep it under wraps. His instinct was to ask questions, to pull at the truth until it was a gaping wound but that wasn't what Hotch needed. He'd been bleeding out all week right under their noses, he needed it closed up, he needed a break.

“So, you got a bed or you sleepin' on the floor?” he asked and Hotch shrugged. Not sure what to think of that, Morgan slipped around him and peeked into the bedroom, saw a a bed neatly made, crisp military corners, entirely surrounded by walls of boxes. His suspicions were validated.

“Don't profile me,” Hotch warned and Morgan raised his hands in surrender.

“Wouldn't dream of it.” He already had, they both knew it.

They fell silent for a minute, and Morgan just threw caution to the wind. Why the hell not? He plopped down on the bed, back against the headboard like he owned the place. At this point he felt like he had done more living there than Hotch anyway. Hotch had no idea what was going on, but he followed suit, felt the pull of the bed calling to him. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in longer than he could remember and it was making him feel sick, headache still raging unchecked. Kicking his shoes off he made his choice, he was at home, in his bedroom, may as well follow Morgan's lead. He slid himself onto the bed. It didn't feel strange or invasive that Morgan sat there, how many sleepless hotel nights had they spent watching stupid old movies or infomercials or playing a game of cards? Looking at strange brochures for the towns they traveled to gathered from hotel lobbies. Morgan flipped his phone open, dialed Garcia, and put her on speaker so Hotch could hear her too. He didn't say where he was, never said that he was with Hotch, and they both just listened to the girls laughing, Penelope assuring Morgan (and everyone else) that she was fine, she was great. Prentiss and JJ had been drinking, they could hear it. Hotch stayed silent, settled himself deeper into the pillows and listened to Morgan talk with them, ask them about their night, roll his eyes at their ridiculous comments about Kevin Lynch. By the time Morgan ended the call, Hotch was asleep beside him. He was sure it was the first time Hotch had fallen asleep in that bed, and he poked around until he found a box of throw blankets, not wanting to disturb the other man while he sank deeper into a well-deserved sleep. It was late and Morgan was exhausted, just wanted to crawl into his own bed and sleep so he spread the blankets over Hotch as gently as he could, turned down the lights and let himself out.

How's your faith? Rossi had asked him. Thinking about Hotch, Penelope, Colby he sighed.

Day to day.

[grey-eyed-menace]

Like A Dame (Snapshots)

Mammon: *trying his best at being casual* ...so, uh, why're you and Flower-Girl in suits?

Sora: *looking down at her watch in vague interest, frowning at the time* Diavolo provided our outfits for the evening, I complied, Mio guilt tripped Lucifer and Satan into providing a mishmash of their clothes.

Mammon: *visibly disappointed* Don't ya still have a bunch of leftover dresses from the other times?

Sora: And deal with Asmo's appraising glare? No thanks, I get enough flack from him as is about my lack of taste in fashion. I mean, fuck the rest of the Devildom, but I live with Asmodeus. I have to deal with that shit, I'm not Mio, I can't just zone out.

---------------------------------------------------

[Pan behind the refreshments where Leviathan, Mio, and Beel have decided to hide out for the night. The latter two of which are currently splitting what looks like to be an entire raspberry cheesecake, and the former seems to be playing a Gacha game on Mio's phone.]

(Luke stumbles upon them, wearing a rather pretty sailor dress, with his hair done up in pigtails. He puts his hands on hips, frowns cutely, and looks down on them in disappointment.)

Luke: Is this really how you spend every event? No variation?

Mio: *casually fork wrestling Beel away from her three claimed slices of cheesecake* Not every event, no. Sometimes, Belphie or Satan join us, other times Levi and I shack up in the coat room, or Beel decides too safeguard the entire refreshment table. There's plenty of variation.

Luke: That's not what I meant and you know it.

Mio: And you're hiding from Phenex, aren't you?

[In the distance, a rather high pitched call of 'Luke!' can be heard as an incredibly pretty female looking aqua haired demon traverses the dance floor.]

Luke: ...*sighs* Can you slide over?

------------------------------------

Sora: So that was Marchosias?

Satan: Yes, unfortunately, it seems she's not incredibly fond of you.

Sora: *blinks stupidly* Not fond? She's my lab partner. If anything, she loves me. It's just... Well, I'm hanging out with the guys she kind of... You know, followed into hell? It's awkward dude. Like... I think I've seen her vault out a six story building just to avoid Beel.

Satan: Truly?

Sora: *shrugs* Hey, a large majority of people avoid their family like the plague, others try to stay connected, and some, like Phenex, decide that they're gonna be said families problem. Whether they like it or not.

Satan: And you? What's your category?

Sora: *without so much as pausing to think* Reluctant orphan adoptee with five siblings, three cousins, and a really fucking weird extended family.

------------------------------------

Solomon: Ah, Diana!

[Solomon rushes over to his old student with a bright smile, clad in a black form fitting dress with white accents, paired with a gold sash, and silver heels. He also, rather inexplicably, has a rather modest set of breasts.]

(Diana, by comparison, is dressed in a rather oversized midnight blue tux with a grey bowtie, and a white sash around her hips, a large spade sewn over her heart.)

Diana: *blinks tiredly, presses a hand to her face, and sighs, preparing herself for an oncoming clusterfuck* Yes Solomon?

Solomon: *grin persisting* I'm calling in a favor, I need you to help me with something.

Diana: *closes eyes, breaths in, and then exhales* ...next time, next time, I'm taking Bridget and Eirny up on that fourth honey moon.

------------------------------------

Spade: Has anyone ever told you that you're infuriating?

Phenex: *humming as they drag him around the dance floor* Constantly, you?

Spade: Only my children.

------------------------------------

[As the party begins to wind down, Mio has decided to briefly venture out from behind the refreshments table, only to come upon a staring contest between Phenex and Simeon.]

(Simeon looks incredibly uncomfortable. Phenex is simply Smiling, it's not a pretty smile, no, it's the smile that got Diavolo to back down from including them and Luke in the butler fiasco.)

Mio: ...do I want to know?

Simeon: *still uneasily meeting Phenex's gaze* No.

Phenex: *still Smiling* It's just drama between siblings, you understand don't you Mio-chan?

(Mio raises an eyebrow at Simeon, then turns to Phenex, and back to Simeon, before casting her gaze to where Luke and the others were at before sighing.)

Mio: Right, uh, well, I'll be leaving then, see you guys at R.A.D. tomorrow, I suppose.

(Mio proceeds to speed walk back to where Beel, Levi, and Luke are without a second thought.)

------------------------------------

[By way of an escaped Lucifer, the Ubuyashiki-Shibata cousins are currently dancing with one another.]

(Mio is leaning against Sora's shoulder, as the latter leads her through the steps of a butchered slow waltz.)

Mio: How's day been so far? Well, I know mine hasn't been the best, Levi stole the last cupcake.

Sora: *sighing* I see you've been dreadfully bored.

Mio: Bored doesn't begin to cover it, I miss the more... Nerve wracking events!

Sora: Mio, we nearly die everytime those events happen.

Mio: Not always! Sometimes I get lucky! I got to hold Mammon's hand during that room by room puzzle!

Sora: ...Lord above *pointedly ignoring the scandalized gasps from passing demons* you two are pathetic.

------------------------------------

[After what seems to be an eternity, Diana and Spade join together on the dance floor.]

(Sora and Asmo watch from by the refreshments opposite to the one Beel, Levi, and Mio are hiding behind, Diana and Spade gliding right by them, completely ignorant of their presence, only focused on one another.)

Sora: *eyes following them* Please tell me you feel like your intruding, please, I don't want to feel alone.

Asmo: *humming, already going about fixing Sora's bun* I don't know why you're hoping to find solidarity with me Sora, I mean, it's cute, but honestly? This just excites me. To see something so intimate and gentle... Ah, it makes me ache for simpler times.

Sora: *whimpers*

Asmo: *pats her shoulder reassuringly*

------------------------------------

[It's the last dance of the night, and the Ubuyashiki-Shibata cousins are each dancing with their own prospective partners completely stone-faced.]

(Sora, dressed in a silver suit and black tie, with her hair up in a braided bun reminiscent of Arturia Pendragon, is dancing with Mammon.

Mio, by comparison, dancing with Belphie, and therefore helping support him, is dressed in an odd mishmash of Lucifer, Asmo, and Satan's clothes. A pair of navy blue slacks, a black dress shirt, dark pink tie and white blazer. Her hair is gathered into a short ponytail at the base of her skull, tied off with a red ribbon. Asmo is distinctly glaring at her from where he's dancing with Diana.)

Mammon: What's got you pissed off Girlie?

Sora: *still completely stone-faced* Fate, the world, Phenex's continued existence, an array of things. Most glaringly, perhaps it's the fact that you couldn't ask my cousin to dance so you stole me away from Beel and Belphie?

Mammon: *clears throat, as Sora leads him into an awkward dip* ...right, got me there Girlie.

(Across the floor, Belphie stirs enough to ask a question.)

Belphie: Why're you so stiff? Actually, why aren't you Sora, and where is Beel?

Mio: *pointedly smiling at Asmo as he passes by with Diana before answering* Mammon's a coward, and Lady Rose is genuinely convinced I'm a man.

Belphie: *already drifting off again* Got it...

------------------------------------

[After the ball ends, the brothers and the Ubuyashiki-Shibata cousins proceed with the trek home.]

(Beel has taken to supporting Belphie with his left arm, while Sora, on his right, proceeds to routinely supply him with snacks.

Mio has taken to trying to convince Levi to give her phone back before they arrive at the House of Lamentation, while riding on Mammon's back piggy back style, grin plastered on her face, with Levi arguing hotly about being in the middle of raid on a mobile dungeon game of some sort.

Asmo is on Mammon's left side, mumbling obscenities about Mio's fashion choices.

Meanwhile, Satan and Lucifer are at the back of the pack quietly bickering about something or other.

Phenex, as usual, is stocking the poor 'family' of nine from the shadows.)

Sora: It was a good night, you know.

Beel: *chewing around a candy bar of some sort, and shifting Belphie's weight slightly* Yeah, it kinda was, wish there was more food at the refreshments table though, it was good.

Sora: Meh, I'll take your word for it, all I had was some of that Blood Punch, which... Yeah, not really for me, I think Solomon spiked it with something for the lesser demons.

Beel: Is that why Diana looked like she wanted to drop dead every time Diavolo came by for a drink?

Sora: Mmh, that and I think it was because she was forced to dance with Phenex for most of the night, she and Mister Spade only danced once, even if lasted the rest of the night.

(They silent the rest of the way to the House of Lamentation. At which, they all separate, undress, and promptly pass out, well, except for Levi, who remains with Mio's phone held hostage well until early morning.)

------------------------------------

[The next morning, the household is rather groggy as they make their way down to breakfast.]

Mammon: Last night must 'ave been something else, my feet freakin' hurt.

Beel: You're one to talk, I feel like my ankles are planning a mutiny.

Mio: I woke up in a binder, guys, a binder. What the hell? I thought I wasn't going to be the Dame!

Sora: At least you didn't feel like you were suffocating the entire night, my chest still feels like it's about to cave in, fucking hell...

Levi: *shrugs* I'm actually fine with whatever happened.

Belphie: *head thunks against the table*

(Several moments later, there's an array of notifications from Asmo's phone. Loud shrill beeps are all that make up the next two or so minutes.)

Lucifer: *sighs* ...It seems I forgot about the social media ban, lovely.

[usertoxicyaoi]

'me and daf analysed all of yousef's dialogue last friday and we found out so many new things that just do not add up at all' what things??? I'm curious,please share,Faiza!!

Not really a question: But i feel you with the suspicion on Yousefs story about Even, something doesn’t seem right with how he is describing Mikael and what we have seen from Mikael as of now!!!! Maybe im reaching but i need answers!!!

faiza! hello! please elaborate on the inconsistencies in mikael’s behavior & yousef’s story because i am seeing a ton but feel like i’m going cray because everyone’s talking about the even part and no one’s talking about these! (i really hope they’re not slips in the writing tho lol.)

Hi, Anon!

So, I’ve gotten 3 asks in one go, and me and Daf - @josteninski - are on IM right now, and Daf is literally telling me, “Faiza. Do it.” … So, here we go. 

Me and Daf were on the phone yesterday for like … 3 whole hours? about this. But, urm, yeah, Yousef’s choice of words, and dialogues last Friday. Something’s not adding up.

So 3 lines we focused on were these, particularly the bold bits:

You know Even? The guy we used to hang with? I think he’s gay.. Because he tried to kiss Mikael and Mikael is really religious, so he totally flipped out and was really out of it. So it turned into.. Even like trying to cure himself by reading the Quran. And it ended up with him posting different verses from the Quran where it said like.. gay people go to hell. You know he.. tried to kill himself? So I just feel like Islam.. Or religion in general.. Just creates a lot of anxiety in people. 

Sorry, I don’t know. I personally feel like I’ve taken the best of the religion and thrown away the rest.

If religion is so good, why does it split society?

And now I want you to focus on Mikael, who “was religious”.

Mikael drinks.

Mikael wears nail polish.

Mikael who is completely okay with being physically affectionate with the boys in the balloon squad, even out open in public.

Mikael who talks about polygamy.

Mikael who has on a couple of occasions, used sign language.

Mikael who still has Even’s phone number.

So, Yousef starts off by saying to Sana, “You know Even? The guy we used to hang out with?” … like, if The Balloon Squad used to hang out at Sana’s place, then … of course, Sana would know Even! She wouldn’t forget Even, she wouldn’t need reminding of Even being “the guy we used to hang out with” … which seems a bit … distant? For Yousef to call Even “the guy we used to hang out with”, because I’m pretty certain he was a lot more than just “a guy they used to hang out with”, they were all friends, part of a circle. Notice how Even called The Balloon Squad, “the boys”, when he asked Sana, “how are the boys”, and Yousef calls Even, “the guy we used to hang out with” … like Even holds them so dear to him, but Yousef seems so distant in calling Even a friend, or a part of them, and instead calls Even “the guy we used to hang out with” … something seems … odd about that.

Then, Yousef says, “I think he’s gay.” He thinks? So, the boys still don’t know about Even’s multiple gender attraction? Yousef “thinks” Even’s “gay”, so … Yousef is assuming here. Yousef is assuming that Even might be gay.

Which then leads onto the next big, perhaps the BIGGEST, most IMPORTANT word in this entire dialogue: “it turned into …. Even like, trying to /cure/ himself.” Notice how, based off this assumption that Yousef’s had that he thinks Even might be gay, Yousef is narrating THE ENTIRE STORY from the point of view OF HIS ASSUMPTION. Not Mikael’s assumption or POV, but YOUSEF’S OWN POV. That Yousef assuming Even might be gay “turned into” Even trying to “cure” himself by reading the Qur’aan. Yousef himself makes these links here, that … well, I think if Even is gay then that must have resulted in him trying to make himself better by reading the Qur’aan. 

Which, to be honest … is that true? Can he really speak for Even here? What if Even wasn’t trying to “cure” himself. What if Even GENUINELY wanted to read the Qur’aan, to gain some understanding? To feel closer to Mikael and the boys? What if Even just wanted to do that for reasons that may not be for “curing” himself? How can Yousef just … ASSUME all these things?, as he again, ASSUMES, when he says “so it ended up with him”. It’s basically Yousef trying to add all the pieces up here from what HE’S seen FROM HIS point of view.

Do you see where I’m going with this? It’s ALL based off, of HIS point of view.

And what is Yousef’s point of view, right now, on religion: that he DOESN’T believe in a religion. He doesn’t BELIEVE in Allah. 

Because “Islam, or religion in general, just creates a lot of anxiety in people”. People? Is he talking about Even here, or somebody else too? “People”,not just 1 person, i.e, Even, who this story is about, but people, more than one person. He means himself. He is the 2nd person here, making “person, into people”.

Do you see the projection here, Yousef is placing into this story? There are little bits, where he is inserting himself into the story, because it’s ALL BASED on what HE believes.

So, of COURSE, when Yousef pauses in between when he says “So it turned into […] Even, like, trying to cure himself”, Yousef is trying to find the best word to fit in and describe the situation, but he ultimately will only, and can only, describe the situation from HIS point of view. And so, keeping that in mind, it’s astonishing (but is it really), that the word that comes into Yousef’s mind to best fit and describe the situation is “cure”. Yousef could have just as easily have said “read”, but no, he used the word “cure”. Again, Yousef is projecting, and inserting himself into the narrative. Because, ultimately, what happened? Yousef became so anxious, that Yousef’s cure to the anxiety was to “take the best parts of the religion, and throw the rest away”, and that’s EXACTLY what “curing” means … curing means to get rid off the negative, and keep and improve on the positive. So, why project that onto Even for, then? 

And also, denouncing your faith. Denouncing your faith, is a HUGE HUGE deal. It’s not something that just happens overnight, or something you do based off of ONE event, especially if you’ve been born and raised within a practising, religious household. So, Yousef MUST have been thinking about this for a very, VERY long time, to the point where he must have been in a conflict of his OWN about religion vs no religion, and him literally trying to see what all the good bits about religion are, against what all the not good bits about religion are. Yousef in HIMSELF was trying to find a cure for HIS anxiety about this whole issue, and I feel like whatever happened with Even, was the final straw, the last nail in the coffin, that thing that sealed the deal for him, that, yeah … i can’t be doing this anymore. 

There is SO much projection here of Yousef, and of HIMSELF and HIS experiences and HIS POINT OF VIEW, that shapes the ENTIRE narrative of the story based on how HE saw it, based on HIS agnostic/atheistic non religious beliefs. So, of COURSE, Yousef would find the word “cure” to be the fitting one here, for him to think it is the best word to explain the situation as to why this made Even do this thing which then made Even do that thing.

But, again, how can he just speak for Even, like that? How does he KNOW? 

And then, perhaps, comes the most contradictory statement from Yousef from the entire night. So, all this time, Yousef’s been saying “he’s take the best part out of religion”, so he agrees, that religion does indeed have some good parts to it, but then, he says “if religion is so good” … which, doesn’t make sense? Because only a while ago, you just said that religion in fact is so good, in fact, the best, in certain key parts, so much so, that you decided to take those parts, which you agreed were in the religion, and implemented them into your life. So now, why all of a sudden, is he saying this, religion isn’t all that good? That religion isn’t so good.

And then there’s that battle 2015 pic …. why “battle” … if both Yousef and Even were friends, or “guys that used to hang out with each other”, why battle over something for?

And then, if we go back to the words Yousef uses, “then then turned into,” “it ended up with” … so what happened in between the points “A to B, from where things turned”? And so if something “ended up” with something happening, then what about the “start and middle” of those things? And how long before or after did the suicide attempt happen? 

So, in short, what else is there that we are not being told? Because we, for SURE, are not being told the full story at all.

Because, I see Mikael now, and …………. I just … cannot understand how he went from, as YOUSEF described, “being TOTALLY freaked out and distant”, to becoming a guy wearing nail polish, who, if he was so insensitive, is shown to be repeatedly using sign language, and still having the phone number of his best friend who made a pass at him that he then “freaked out” from and “became distant” to, whilst going from being so religion, to now drinking openly? To going from being so “freaked out”, to now being completely fine in being openly affection with boys in public, on the road! 

So … where/how/when did THAT happen?

There’s … stuff, not adding up here. Stuff, we’re very clearly not being told here.

[transmulier]

Warning for heavy mentions of suicide and rape. This is me getting shit off my chest in a place where I'm confident the police won't be called on me again.

A few months back, there was a period of about a month where I felt really good. I felt positive about life and myself. I was teaching myself to think less critically and to treat myself as someone who deserved kindness and respect just like everyone else. I had gotten a promotion and slight pay increase at work. I was doing well. I wasn't thinking of suicide on the daily. It was much less frequent.

I don't really know what happened. Maybe I relapsed in the negativity I was trying to force away. Trying to force myself to be positive, or at least neutral toward myself at all times might have been too much. But it was nice while it lasted. I had tried that 'if you cannot outright love yourself forst, start with self-tolerance/self-neutrality' concept and it really worked. For a time. I stopped with the gallows humor and reminded myself that every person deserves basic respect and that I, too, am a person. It genuinely, miraculously, worked. I cannoy think highly of myself. Never have been able to. But if I can remain neutral, at least eliminate the absolute negative...

I thought it would work longer than it did. I'm not really sure what happened. I think I slipped up somewhere. Or something went wrong, probably at work. I really don't know.

I've been thinking of suicide more often again. More than before. The only thing that has stopped me in the past was knowing my death would be a nuisance. Someone would have to clean up the body and I don't want to inconvenience someone or leave that on their conscience. But then, here lately, my brain has countered that thought with, 'well, it's their job. They've surely seen worse.'

That's how I know I'm getting worse. I'm on the verge of suicide and, fuck, I just want to do it already. But no I don't. There's so many things I want to see and experience. But I also know that will never happen. I'm poor and stuck in a household that treats me like I'm worthless. My parents are working on splitting, but keep getting back together. My step-dad is addicted to meth and when he doesn't get it, he kicks my mom, and sometimes me, out of the house because we're the only ones bringing in any money to supply his habit.

I had a child entirely against my will over a year ago and am still expected to be in his life when I want nothing to do with him. Even after bringing light to the means of his existence, no one cares that I want nothing to do with him. They insist that I must be in his life, that I must do this or that and everything else. I never wanted this. It was not my fault he didn't listen when I said no time and again. Of course I was bound to get pregnant. I couldn't afford any help.

I lost a large group of friends about eight, nine months ago. I miss many of them, but it was for the best that I leave. After everything they put me through and accused me of without any elaboration on what I had supposedly done... I couldn't handle it on top of everything else.

I found out less than two weeks ago that all of the back pains I've been dealing with are incurable. I have scoliosis and nothing can be done except surgery, which I'll never be able to afford. Between the operation itself and having to take montha off of work after? Not gonna happen when I'm poor. I'm seeing a chiropractor, but it only helps so much, honestly.

I've just had a shitty past two years. I am very tired. I'm tired of feeling numb. I'm tired of having no reactions to things I should. I'm tired of depression killing me, both physically and mentally.

I feel like I wont be alive long enough to see 2020. I kinda hope I wont be.