#because i hate submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I go to the same restaurant for lunch almost every day, and today they had my order memorized, so I can never go back

[anxious-lee]

The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known || Hazbin Tickle Fic ||

A/N: this entire fic was inspired by that one scene where Al threatens Husk in ep 5. it broke my heart to see him so utterly petrified so I wrote this as a hurt/comfort for myself

Warnings: mentions of Alastor's control over Husk, slight NSFW language but it's not actually sexual I just didn't have any synonyms for what I meant lol

Word count: 2,466

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When you're an Overlord of Hell, you tend to get pretty comfortable with staying in control.

Because one wrong move can mean the end of the line.

Husk knew that better than most.

And even now, after all that power of his was lost, he still found himself more suited to calling the shots in whatever situation he found himself in. It was just easier that way. If he could remain on top of things, then nothing would go wrong. Mostly.

That feeling of security never lasted long, though, because sooner or later, he was reminded of the terrible choice he made long ago. That he gave away his autonomy to the most psychotic demon in hell.

The way he spoke to him. Like he was so small. And insignificant. Like he existed purely for the bastard's own amusement and nothing else. Any input given was condescended to, patronized, and dehumanized. It formed an ugly little pit in Husk's chest. How little control he had once Alastor stepped into the room. It scared him, in a way that so few things did.

At least he had someone else to talk to who knew how he felt.

Speaking of whom, Angel Dust strutted into the bedroom, sporting a fluffy silk robe.

"Hope I didn't make you wait too long~" he whined seductively.

"Not long at all," the other purred.

The two settled down together in bed, soaking in each other's embrace.

Tonight was all about them, huddled together in hell's moonlight.

Husk remained still as Angel shifted downward until his head fit under Husk's chin, knowing just where to go.

He loved to be pampered, that much was obvious.

It was peaceful for some time before Angel's eyes suddenly blinked open.

"Hey. How come you never want a turn at being the little spoon? I'm not unreasonable, I'm sure we could share," he said coyly.

Husk didn't quite know what to say to that. It wasn't something that needed to be spoken in words. Husk dominated, Angel submitted (in more ways than one). It seemed almost absurd to suggest that Husk would be the one being given affection.

"Nah, I'm good. You look pretty comfy down there, anyway."

Angel, however, wasn't satisfied with that answer. He pulled himself back to get a good look at the cat's face, cocking his own head curiously. Who wouldn't want to be on the receiving end? Even once? It couldn't be understated how warm and protected one could feel in the arms of another. And Husk didn't want that? Did he feel pressured to say that because he knew Angel liked to take that spot?

"Really? You THAT much of a top that you can't play second fiddle once?" said Angel.

"I'm just not a big... "softy-cuddles" kinda guy, as if you already couldn't tell," Husk admitted, gesturing to his overall gruff demeanor.

Angel studied his face.

"Not buying that for a second," he said, punctuating each word with a poke to the chest. "Come on, you're missing out!"

"That's sweet, babe, but I'm-"

"Just five minutes?" Angel pleaded, holding five fingers up in front of him, "Five minutes of me cuddling you for a change. If you decide you hate it, I won't bring it up again. I just... you're always taking care o' me. I want to give some of that back to you, ya'know? You deserve it."

Fuck.

How was he supposed to say no to those puppy eyes?

Besides, it couldn't hurt... right?

"Fine," Husk relented.

"Yay!" His boyfriend cheered.

They rearranged their positions; Husk now farther down the length of the bed and Angel wrapping all three pairs of arms around him like a furry burrito. His knees and head also tucked themselves inward to cradle the cat properly.

It still made Husk a little tense, letting someone handle him so willfully, but the touch was too nice to deny for very long. Thoughts of safety oozed into his brain as his body relaxed against the chest behind him.

"See? Now isn't this nice?" said Angel softly, barely above a whisper, "For a man who supposedly doesn't little-spoon, you've got the moves down pat."

"I'm not making any moves," Husk mumbled, smiling loudly in his voice.

"Well, you're relaxed, aren't ya?"

In a way.

Angel peered down at the bundle of fuzz, taking in how much shorter he was in comparison.

"Awww! I never noticed how cute you were from up here." His hand began petting the top of the kitty's head, smoothing down the hair.

And there was that feeling again. The one that couldn't let Husk enjoy a good thing while he had it. The fear of releasing control.

"I'm not a pet," he grumbled, having no control over the defensiveness in his voice.

Angel, ever oblivious, pressed on. "Oh, but you are to me~. My sweet little Husky~."

Finally, the camel's back broke under that straw.

"Just stop, okay?! I don't-" Husk took a much-needed breath, sitting up, "I know being treated like a toy is your thing, but it's not mine. I don't like being talked to like I'm a pet. Like all I am is your little dancing monkey." It dawned on him just how much of all that was directed at Alastor. The words sunk in like cement in a lake, and he turned his eyes away, unable to look at what he just ruined.

Angel blinked. All of sudden, the moment had soured, and he had no clue why. Was it something he said? Husk said he didn't want to be treated like a toy. Is that how he felt? Like he wasn't valued? That wasn't what he was trying to say at all! It was adoration! Not condescension.

"What...?" Angel breathed.

"Forget it. Just, I'm sorry-"

"No! No, don't apologize," Angel interrupted, choosing his next words carefully, "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. It wasn't what I meant to say. I wasn't tryin' to say you were weak or small. I was... I was trying to tells you that I adore ya. You do so much for me and our friends. You look out for us, and protect us, and listen to our bullshit problems all the time.

"I think so highly of you, Husk. You don't take shit from no one, not even me. You're unafraid to speak your mind. You know how to keep your head when life gets messy. I got nothing but respect for you. That's why I wanted to do all this. That's why I want to pamper you with love and shit. Because you're always so strong, and I wanted to... I don't know... give you the space where you didn't have to be strong. Not with me."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Husk couldn't find the words even if he tried. He had never heard such meaningful things spoken about him. Him, the grouchy barfly. How could he possibly come back from such a beautiful declaration? Especially now with how foolish he felt. It had never occurred to him that accepting affection was an act of good, and not an admission of weakness. That someone could be trusted to hold him in their hands and lift him up rather than drag him down.

Angel could never be Alastor. This was not a hostage situation.

This was a security.

One that he felt that he needed in this moment more than ever.

"Fuck... I'm sorry. I messed up everything and spoiled the mood. I'm still not very good at this whole intimacy stuff," Husk sighed.

"I know, and it's okay. I can teach you," Angel cupped his hand around Husk's cheek.

Husk leaned into the touch. "And uh... thanks. For what you said."

"I meant it."

What did Husk do on Earth to deserve such an Angel?

"Look, if uh. Ahem. If you still wanted to... to do what you were doing before... you know, I won't fight you," Husk stammered, falling quieter with each word.

If that's the only means of permission that Angel can get right now, then he'll take it. He gently eased Husk onto his back once more.

"Good. 'Cause I still have lots more love to give you, sweetcheeks." Angel's iconic smile returned.

Even though Husk basically just admitted he wanted Angel to keep going, his praises were beginning to fluster him. The corners of his lips started to rise, and the only defense he had against them was to turn his face away from the man in front of him.

"You like it when I talk to you like that, huh, baby? Do you hear in my voice how much I'm crazy about you? How I'd do anything for ya? Cause I would~. There's nothing that you don't deserve," Angel said, scratching oh so lightly beneath Husk's chin.

Husk squeezed his eyes shut as he surrendered to his smile and tried to crush Angel's hand with his neck.

"It's true~. Because you're just the cutest little thing alive! Er, unalive, so to speak," the spider said, feeling encouraged by this reaction, and bringing another hand to scritch in the middle of his side.

Before he could stop it, a giggle escaped from Husk's mouth. Mortified, he then clamped his jaw shut, holding any more upcoming laughs in.

"You don't have to pretend for me, baby. It's just us here," said Angel, now bringing all three sets of arms into the mix. One pair was tracing his sides, another scritching either sides of his neck, and the last drumming their fingers torturously over his belly.

The giggles rose back up again, and this time shutting his mouth wasn't keeping them at bay. If he weren't so stubborn, he might've given in by now. But it was just too embarrassing.

Husk clapped his paws over his mouth, and while it did (partially) succeed in quieting his laughter, it didn't do anything to remedy the tickly sensations now all over his torso. He twitched and quivered under the touch, but with Angel hovering over him, it didn't leave much room for reprieve.

"This looks like it really tickles. I'm sure you'd feel better if you let all those laugh out!" Angel encouraged, "Pleeeeeease? For me? For yourself?"

Still, he didn't budge.

"Okay. I didn't wanna have to do this, but you've left me with no otha' options." Angel took one hand that was scratching his chin and took both of Husk's paws in it, holding them above the cat's head.

The effect was gradual.

At first, you couldn't hear a peep. Then, over a matter of seconds, Husk's giggles began to bubble up once more, fighting their way to the surface, and tickling him from the inside out.

It was over. Before long, there was nothing between the loving attacker and the melodic sound he adored so much. It started out deeper and huskier, much like his normal speaking voice, but with each passing moment, it grew higher in pitch; the kind of laugh he reserved only for his softer moments with Angel.

The spider took this as a sign to continue and deepened the pressure of all of his appendages, digging into the jittery muscles.

Husk couldn't even recognize himself anymore. He sounded nothing like the bitter old drunk he normally was. In its place, was a goofy little lovesick fool who laughed like no one in the world could hear him. He guffawed and chortled and cackled with reckless abandon.

"There it itihis! There's that gorgeous laughter!" Said Angel. "For a moment there, I thought you was bout to explode!"

The compliment somehow made everything worse. The helplessness of the situation was still there, the feeling of being small, but it was... different. Like he was small enough to be held in someone's palm and protected from all harm. It felt safe.

Husk's cheeks began to burn red.

Hopefully, Angel would be too distracted to notice.

"Aw baaabe! Are you blushin'?!"

Fuck.

As if on cue, his cheeks burned brighter.

"Am I making you feel flustered~? Does it make it tickle more?"

"WOHOHOULD YOU SHUHUT UHUHUP?!"

"So it does. Hmm," Angel hummed as he started moving his hands faster and faster up and down his body. Up his sides, then down his sides, up his tummy, then down his tummy.

It was maddening.

It was tortuous.

It was wonderful.

If Heaven didn't feel like this, he didn't want it. If salvation didn't give him the same amount of relief and safety and joy that playing with his lover gave, then it wasn't worth it. He'd stay in this inferno of hell forever if it meant he could stay with Angel. Stay in this moment.

The demon in question kept on with his teases.

"Who's the cutest little thing~?" Angel cooed as he noticed Husk jump when he touched the lowest portion of his belly, "Ohoho, looks like someone's ticklish! Coochie coochie coooo~!"

Just when Husk thought he couldn't laugh any harder, he did.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA YOU FUHUHUCKING PRIHIHICK HAHAHA!" Husk snorted.

"Oho my gosh! You sound just like Fat Nuggets!" Angel chortled.

Husk's laughter was beginning to go silent, and started getting wheezier. This, Angel knew, meant it was time to stop.

"Alright, doll, I think you've had enough," Angel said as he released his prisoner.

As the spider removed his hands from his body, Husk started panting and giggling hysterically, still feeling the phantom sensations on his skin.

"Need some help there?" Angel offered, moving his hands back towards the other's belly.

Husk curled away from his hands, "Dohohon't!"

"I'm not gonna tickle ya, I swear! I'm just gonna get the leftover tickles to go away. Okay?"

Husk nodded hesitantly and revealed his stomach to him.

Angel's hands met his fur, and although it did jump at first, the firm pressure and massaging motions rubbed away the remaining tickles, just like he said it would.

"Dahamn. That really works." Husk breathed.

"Right? Now do you feel better?"

"Yeah," Husk sat up as Angel gave him room, "You know, for such a compliant gentleman, you sure do know how to take charge."

Angel swiveled to Husk with his mouth agape. "I can be a boss when I wanna be!"

"Heh. Sure, power bottom."

Angel reached for Husk's right foot (or paw) and skittered one set of fingers over it.

"NonononONONOHOHO! I'M SORRY, I TAKE IT BACK! I tahahake it bahahack! Hehehehe!"

"Uh huh. That's what I thought," Angel stopped and huffed with a wink, nothing but kind love behind his eyes, "So. You ready for bed?"

"After all that laughing? Hell yes I am. I might even sleep through tomorrow." Husk said tiredly.

Angel chuckled, sidling up behind Husk and gently cacooning his arms around him again.

"This okay?"

Husk sighed.

"It's perfect."

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Wooh! That was a rollercoaster! 😅 Hope the people that wanted lee!husk enjoyed this fic 🫶

[wqnwoos]

warnings! reader is sad for unspecified reasons.

“everything hurts.”

“i know, baby.”

“and my throat’s dry.”

seungcheol shifts to pass you a glass of water he’s had ready on the nightstand.

“and — ” your voice cracks ever so slightly “ — and i’m sad.”

“i know, baby,” he repeats softly. his hands cradle your face, the gentlest of kisses pressed to your forehead. “i know. i’m sorry. if i could fix it, i would.”

and you know he would. seungcheol would move mountains to see you smile. hates it when you cry, but even more than that, he hates when he can’t fix it. when can’t shoulder it all on to himself to keep you light.

you drink your water. he traces gentle patterns over your free hand. he kisses your aching head and wipes your nose and kisses you again.

then he makes you drink more water, and as you do, he shifts to get out of the bed; you whine. immediately.

he stops, immediately. he turns back to you, a soft little smile on his face as he brushes your cheek with a warm hand. “i’m just going to get you some food,” he promises, “i’ll be right back.”

“don’t want food. i want you.” you’re being childish, and you know it; but as if on cue, your stomach rumbles. loud.

your boyfriend raises one eyebrow at you, and you offer him a watery, sheepish smile. “that was digestion.”

his smile grows, just the tiniest bit. “i’m getting you food. just from the kitchen.”

“don’t leave me. i love you.” you claw at him dramatically, because the sight of his dimples can brighten any kind of darkness.

“and i love you. and so i’ll come back,” he replies, patting your head affectionately as he gets up. “with food. you always get hungry after you cry.”

if we want the rewards of love, we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known. only it’s not so mortifying, not any more. it warms you, inside out; aches deliciously in your ribs.

seungcheol pauses at the door and turns to you. “like that poem you like so much. what is it again?” he thinks, smiles when he remembers. “i love you, i want us both to eat well.”

an / i might delete tomorrow idk i don’t like this but. love u guys sorry i haven’t been writing recently!!

the poem referenced is called our beautiful life when it’s filled with shrieks btw. by christopher citro :)

and the quote about the mortifying ordeal of being known is from an article by tim kreider

perm taglist: (sorry it’s formatted so weird!! the only way i could get it to work 😭) @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud

@tokitosun @hannyoontify @sahazzy @icyminghao

@nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts

@astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager

@wootify @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt

@onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

@iamawkwardandshy @twilghtkoo @yuuyeonie @lllucere @pearlesscentt

[adhd-pixie-nightmare-girl]

D20:FH Characters as Tumblr Text Posts

Kalvaxis: I'm so sick of being thwarted. I swear to you, my next plot shall not go comically awry. The Bad Kids: I'm not like other girls. I don't die when I'm killed./ Loneliness is so stupid let's do illegal things together instead/ This is how I win *loses*/ I don't think we can 'lmao' our way out of this one, girls. Fabien: Self-care is being evil when you want to, especially if it's revenge./ One day I'm gonna say, "fight me!" and someone's just gonna fucking deck me Kristen: The doctor just diagnosed me with kindness in my eyes that can't be put into words. Riz: it sure is fun being private and closed off but just once i would like to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known without it being such a mortifying fucking ordeal/ violence is always the answer because it's funny Riz to Biz: Bro unlearn your victim mentality already you're scaring the hoes Adaine: Imagine being able to handle things. that's wild/ Being intuitive is just like...i don't like this and no i will not elaborate Fig: Take me down to paradise city where the grass is green and the girls are (remembers that I'm playing at a gay bar on bear night) men Gorgug: In my defense, your honor, I really am the dumbest bitch alive/ You are small potatoes to me. And brother I'm about to start mashing Biz: putting "live laugh love" and "home" signs in my MURDER MAZE DUNGEON to make my MURDER MAZE VICTIMS feel more at ease Aelwyn: oh of COURSE "miss"demeanor and murd"her" are illegal. just admit that you hate to see women having fun Gilear: he's got that previously neglected shelter dog rizz. he looks like he wants to quietly sit next to you on the couch while you watch TV. he looks like he lets out a pathetic little sigh sometimes for no reason

[arcadekitten]

Arcadekitten, how do u deal with sm people loving your content and loving you? My friend wants to make a game but they’re absolutely terrified in the spotlight, if u have any links or anything may i please have them?? No pressure or force ofc!

I'm not sure what kind of links you mean. Like, links of things to help? I don't got anything like that!

Putting anything out into the world is scary, and I can only imagine it's more so when you desperately want to share your art but are terrified of being perceived. But as that one saying goes, "if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known."

And I too am a human and it can be hard not to get overwhelmed by it all sometimes, even with a small following like myself! But there's ways to take breaks from it too. Not to sound like a "touch grass" kinda person, but I find that often times even just stepping outside into the sunshine helps put things into perspective. It's great to step away from social media and just go about your daily life or do things with your friends! Even if it's just for stuff like doing chores or playing a game for yourself in your room. You don't have to become your art.

Similarly, you are entitled to your privacy and you don't have to share more than you want to ever. If all you wanna do is post a game and then not touch it afterwards you're more than welcome to. You're also free to just exist on your own social media without having to explore outwards from it to see what people are saying about it.

Block buttons also exist for a reason, and if someone is giving you trouble then block them and move on with your day because your time on this earth is finite and you're better spending it not interacting with people who give you a hard time or make you upset.

I hope these help? Again I understand how scary it is to put yourself front and center and be like "look at me! Look at this thing I made! Please don't hate it!", but you'll never know how you really feel about it until you try it.

I am often afraid of regret, and I think that if I went through my whole life and never shared my art in a way i felt was meaningful I would've regretted it. And that's why I make things like this now! And maybe your friend will feel the same way and maybe they won't but you can always try it and see! I wish them luck in whatever it is they plan to do!

[queeraang]

we're all healing and growing and whatever but come here for a minute so i can just complain

obviously you have to express a desire/feeling for it to be known but also sometimes it's like surely a basic inference can be made without me having to openly beg for an emotional connection?

i will share an example i am emotionally over so it doesn't matter

my family would constantly push me to reach out to my father because he "loves and misses" me and for a while i did do that but it would be phone call>he talks about missing me>we make plans>he flakes without ever following up>no contact for months>repeat

so i simply stopped caring or trying and my mom was like "you should tell him this bothers you, he misses you" and i'm like no he doesn't, he has a phone, a car, and my address. it is actually impossible for him to miss me with those resources. If he goes months without making contact with me then its because he doesn't want to.

(and to clarify about communication styles, he calls and speaks to my brother often, he regularly will drive 30 minutes to go meet up with people, that is not the issue)

i'm not going to beg for attention from someone who doesn't like me. also he's like a weird homophobe sexist so i'm not exactly pining for our long talks about how the cartoons are trying to make kids gay.

i say all that to say

it's like yeah you have to ask for things you want in personal relationships but also i have a bunch of NDs and shit so (example) if i tell someone who previously didn't hug me that i like hugs and then they start hugging me it feels like i've bullied them into it and they're doing it out of obligation/pity and actually hate it so it's not even a real hug anymore and actually worse than not being hugged in the first place so why would i do that??? like you want me to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known and i don't even get the fucking rewards of being loved? repulsive.

anyway i'm very normal and the emotional neglect doesn't affect me at all in my adult life

[turbo-toast]

Writerly Thumbprint Challenge!

Rules: look back on your work, both past and present, finished and unfinished. what are five (or more!) narrative elements, themes, topics or tropes that continuously pop up in your work?

@thana-topsy tagged me, and I'm happy to indulge in some self-reflection!

I tag @tafferling, @moriche and @expended-sleeper. Submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known. C'mon.

Monstrous Is Who Does Monstrous Things - I really like writing characters with some aspect that makes others afraid of them, or hate them because they pose an apparent danger. Be it vampirism or having been kidnapped and turned into a killing machine, I like writing characters who through choices and their own principles prove that just because they're capable of atrocities, it doesn't mean they have to conform to the prejudice leveled at them. Yeah, you're a monster, but you're not a monster monster.

You're Lovable - This goes hand in hand with my protagonists often having "monstrous" aspects: They just as often don't think they're capable of love or being loved. I like to make them see they're wrong by pairing them with someone who, either slowly or immediately, goes full-on heart eyes for them (and vice versa).

Power Couples - While we're on relationships - usually, both parties of my couples are highly competent in their fields. Sometimes I think that kneecaps my ability to write character development or throwing actual challenges at my characters, but I think even if a character is nigh unkillable, there's still a lot of anguish they can be put through that isn't mortal combat, for example. I just like the dynamic of a couple kicking ass and figuring stuff out together a lot.

Romance Isn't The End Goal - A famous idea about the Romance genre is that as the author, you have to answer the question "Why can't they be together right now?" until the very end when they finally get together. The story usually ends when the main couple (and it's usually a couple, not a polycule) finally admit their love for each other and get their happily ever after (or something along those lines). The journey to get there is the whole point. This usually leaves me a bit unsatisfied though: I want to know what they're like when they're comfortable with each other. I want to see domesticity and solving problems together. Show me how they work when they can fully rely on each other. So... I write that. The chase is fun, yes, but let me eat the cake I have too, please.

Found Family - Look, I just like this one a lot, okay? It's extremely common in narratives with queer protagonists, and I'm here for it. It crops up in my writing a lot not necessarily because my protagonists have a bad relationship with their blood relatives. As a matter of fact, most of them just don't have any of those anymore. But in any case, they make their own families. Because that's what you do, I guess.

[drivemysoul]

my bad habit of running so i never have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known etc etc but my girlfriend knows my favourite flowers and how i like my toast and she measured my right hand for my ring size because she knows i hate wearing jewellery on my left

[laminy]

I’m sure I’m going to regret posting this, but it’s been on my mind, and if I don’t at least type it out, it’s going to stay there, driving me up the wall, and the last thing my brain needs right now is this rattling around in it. please ignore or scroll by if you are triggered by talks of depression, suicide, or just general sad stuff.

(I am also aware that this is a writing sideblog but when your writing is as important to your mental health as mine is, posting it here seemed more appropriate than on my main.)

September 10 is World Suicide Prevention Day.

one day, this story will be done. there will be no more parts to publish, nothing else to write. I will answer my last ask, and then turn them off. everything will stay up, here and on AO3, because I know that people enjoy what I write, and some stories are important to people. I wouldn’t want to get rid of anything that I’d put so much work and thought into. since for the most part, these stories are all I have.

I have struggled with mental health for my entire life. I’ve had anxiety since I was a young child, and been depressed since at least middle school, though insecurities about my body, my family, my friendships, my life, my talents had all started by the time I was ten. 

I’ve been happy at times, it would be a lie to say that I haven’t. I’ve had beautiful friendships, traveled to wonderful places, eaten delicious food. I’ve seen my favourite musicians in concert, seen my favourite actors on stage.

I’ve also wanted to die almost every day for the last 3+ years. for reasons that would be too mundane to explain, because someone who is mentally healthy would have bounced back from what happened in May/June 2017, I haven’t been a happy person since then. and since then, it’s never be a question of if I would kill myself, but when. I truly have no retirement plan, no idea of what life will look like as an old woman. most days, I’m surprised I made it to 30; the idea of making it to 35 or 40 sounds like a damn near impossibility. I can no longer conceive of myself dying from anything other than my own hand.

so for 3+ years, my life has just been trying to find things that can hold my attention long enough to get me to the next thing. I have two Stranger Things tattoos because at the time, literally the only reason I didn’t kill myself in the summer of 2017 is that I wanted to see the second season of Stranger Things, so, thanks Steve Harrington (and I loved season two, but gosh, season three was a disappointment, wasn’t it).

in this time, I moved to a new city, in a new province. I did it because I needed a job, but in doing so, I had to leave my best friends behind. I was alone when I came here, and I’m still alone. I have one friend who lives here, but in the last few years, our lives have diverged quite drastically to the point that we don’t really fit together anymore. I love her, and love to see her, but we have almost nothing in common now. all my other friends are people that I went to school or university with, or met here on tumblr, and who all live hundreds or thousands of kilometres away. in short, I feel totally empty and wholly alone.

just in case you were wondering, I lost the job that I moved here for. so. kind of a waste. though, it was during my months of unemployment that I started to write ITBASM. 

(it was also during my months of unemployment that I started to obsessively watch Bohemian Rhapsody in theatres, because I had the time, and I was sad, and it comforted me like a warm blanket)

so, I didn’t kill myself because I had to see Rami win his Oscar. then I didn’t kill myself because I was looking forward to a couple weeks in the summer of 2019, which was probably the greatest few days of my life (during which I saw Queen, and for a couple hours I felt like I actually belonged somewhere). then it was a live episode of one of my favourite podcasts. since then, there hasn’t really been a lot of reasons to keep going. so basically, I had to come up with my own, and for now, that’s writing. because believe me when I say, my job, my living situation, my family, my finances, my body, my brain, everything else makes me want to claw my wrists out.

before anybody asks, yes, I’m in counselling. I’ve gone every week, give or take a couple missed sessions when lockdown started or I couldn’t get out of work. and it doesn’t help. why? almost certainly because when you have no hope, and have accepted the inevitability of your death, and your failure, it’s really hard to take any of the advice that they give you. and it’s also really hard to open up. turns out, being “therapy resistant” is a thing. it’s me. every week, she asks how I am, I say fine, we talk about things that came up that week, and we never go any deeper because I can’t and I won’t. I have well and truly given up. I’m currently doing my therapy homework for the week, which is: how fulfilled are you in life right now? and what are the steps you can take to get there?

pretty sure we gave up on fulfilled a long time ago.

which brings me back to the beginning. 

tomorrow is World Suicide Prevention Day. I haven’t seen any posts about it, or any hashtags trending. and you know, that’s probably fair. 2020 has kind of sucked in a lot of ways, people are distracted, and there are only so many causes people can focus on.

but I’ve just been trying to use my words and my characters and this universe to prevent my own suicide for awhile now. if I hadn’t made the decision to keep writing and writing after the original thirty-nine chapters, who knows where I’d be now. but one day, this story will be done. that will be it, and it may be it entirely.

[spaceoutdreamer]

Right so who wants to appear in my report's acknowledgement part ?

[padawansuggest]

Aayla and Anakin: *watches Quinlan leave the brunch table with Obi-Wan after he got annoyed with Anakin’s glaring the whole time, probably gonna get daydrunk with Bail and Padme*

Aayla: *immediately turns back to Anakin* Bly let’s me call him Mommy in bed. And I get to suck on his tits.

Anakin: *snorts up his drink* Oh my god?

Aayla: Ya! It’s super awesome and he likes anal. Giving and receiving.

Anakin: Are you trying to… give me a sales pitch, or something?

Aayla: I’m just saying, if you want Padme to call you baby girl while pegging you, you gotta start somewhere. Obviously the kinks themselves aren’t that obscure.

Anakin: *sigh* Yeah, but. She already tops? Why push it?

Aayla: Because you could be living out your deepest want to get pegged while sucking her mommy milkers and calling her momma.

Anakin: First of all? Never put it like that again? Second? How do I get this without baring my soul to her?

Aayla: You don’t. Sometimes we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known. For mommy milkers.

Anakin: I hate you.

[theghostnugget]

So, I LOVE a good sibling reveal fic, but what I really want (my deepest wish) is an entire spin-off series with Yukina and Hiei (and the rest of the cast too but mainly Hiei and Yukina) awkwardly learning how to be siblings.

The scene I’m thinking of right now is there first real argument (most likely over something to do with Yukina’s safety - she hates being controlled and worries that people, especially Hiei, think that because she abstains from violence that she’s weak - Hiei, on the other hand needs his sister to be safe so it’s the only thing he’s willing to fight her over) and while he trusts her more than anyone, his paranoia gets the best of him - they’re not super great at communicating any of this (Yukina had to repress all her thoughts and feelings to have a chance of being accepted by the Ice Maidens and Hiei associates feelings with weakness that can get him killed) and at one point, Hiei raises his voice against Yukina for the first time in their relationship - Yukina starts to tear up (terrified that she’s ruined her relationship with the only family she has left) and suddenly Hiei is faced with his greatest worry about having a sister: he’s going to fuck it up like he fucks everything up and he’s going to hurt her because that’s the only thing he’s good at

He INSTANTLY starts backpedaling and apologizing - he keeps reaching out to touch her, comfort her, but then pulling back because surely he could only make things worse

Mostly, I want the blissful relief of that moment after when they both FINALLY communicate that they don’t hate the other (they could never hate the other) and they hug (Yukina still struggling not to be too emotional and Hiei barely holding back an anxiety attack) until all the tension drain from them both

Hiei briefly submits to the mortifying ordeal of being known, just long enough to communicate that he does trust her 100% but his relationship to her is the only part of himself he doesn’t hate and he’s shaking as he admits “I know you can take care of yourself… but just… Let me come with you… I can’t - if anything ever happened to you I’d-“ and she finally realizes that the whole scenario was never about him judging her - it was based solely on his trauma history and his love for her

[petrichara]

When Michael Dempsey said “To know someone is to understand their inner workings. It is to know the foods they hate, the ways they deal with stress, the goals they have, the secrets they keep, the time they spend, and hundreds of other smaller things that define someone, and your journey with them as you get to each other’s cores.” and Tim Kreider said “Years ago a friend of mine had a dream about a strange invention; a staircase you could descend deep underground, in which you heard recordings of all the things anyone had ever said about you, both good and bad. The catch was, you had to pass through all the worst things people had said before you could get to the highest compliments at the very bottom. There is no way I would ever make it more than two and a half steps down such a staircase, but I understand its terrible logic: if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.”

and Maria Popova said “the paradox of love is perhaps the same as that of art, which Jeanette Winterson so elegantly termed “the paradox of active surrender” — in order for either to transform us, we must let it turn us over and inside-out.” and Richard Siken said “Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.”

and Ocean Vuong said “Because the sunset, like survival, exists only on the verge of its own disappearing. To be gorgeous, you must first be seen, but to be seen allows you to be hunted.” and Marguerite Duras said “I don’t know if love’s a feeling. Sometimes I think it’s a matter of seeing. Seeing you.”

and Jenny Slate said “On purpose, on purpose I am going to care about you.” and Casey McQuiston said “That's the choice. I love him, with all that, because of all that. On purpose. I love him on purpose.” and Taylor Myers said “I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.”

and Dr Leslie Becker said “Love is more than a flickering emotion. It involves an unwavering commitment to the happiness of another.” and Lemony Snicket said “Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope (..) I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.”

and Ali Smith said “I feel met by you, he says afterwards. It’s weird. (That’s exactly what it feels like. I felt met by him the first time I saw him. I felt met by him all the times we weren’t even able to meet each other’s eyes.)” and Eve Sedgwick said “You know, when I start telling you something by saying, ‘I was thinking about what you said about … ,’ it always gives me pleasure to say that, to let you know that I was brooding on your words. And I think the pleasure is … well, I know how much I love it when you say ‘I was thinking about what you said about …’ It’s somehow as though the part of you that’s in me will be able to nourish the part of me that’s in you, or-something-I don’t know how to put it. But that there’s some circuit of reciprocity between these holding relations: your ability to hold me inside you, and mine to hold you inside me.”

[tma-ficrec]

Five All Time Mod Recs

To start off this blog, we decided to submit ourselves to the mortifying ordeal of being known and show y’all our TMA top fic recs!

These are fics of very different premises and categories that stayed with us and soothed our souls. Feel free to ask for more recs (or more specific stuff) because we’re definitely not done. Enjoy!

Mod Ami:

Statement Ends  by @martivist 4k words. Jonmartin. Angst. Post-canon AU. Ending Speculation. Lore speculation. S5 AU.

"Final statement of Jonathan Sims. The Archivist. Statement given… I think it’s June? We haven’t done very well counting time since the days stopped. Summer 2019, call it that. Statement begins.

We’ve found a way to send them back where they came from. All of them."

Forty-some years after the apocalypse abruptly ends, the final acts of Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood come to light.

Mod note: This fic... goddamit this fic. I read it halfway through s5 and I genuinely think this is one of the best endings the show could have had. It hit all the points Jonny made and then some. This fic is pain, yes, but the best kind.

Ninety Feet To Home by @judesstfrancis 33k words. Jonmartin. No Powers AU. Baseball Players AU. Fluff. Pining.

Jon isn’t really Martin Blackwood’s biggest fan. And he knows it’s a him problem, because it’s not like Blackwood is a terrible person or like he loses on purposes just to ruin Jon’s life, but he can’t help it. In his defense, if you were on a hot streak and the same person kept coming in and ruining it for you every single time, you'd harbor a bit of resentment towards them, too.

Mod note: I’m so obsessed with this AU that I broke my vow of not making fanart for TMA and made fanart of it. Yeah. Sue me. It’s the perfect levels of pining, ridiculousness and it brought me (an argentinian whose only baseball reference is the HSM musical number) tremendous joy. As the us-statians would say: home fucking run. ALSO, MARTIN BLACKWOOD IS LATINOOOOO.

Maybe not the stuff of legend by imperfectcircle. 14k words. Jonmartin. Post-canon AU. S5 AU. Ending Speculation. Lore speculation. Angst with a Happy Ending.

Martin forgets slowly at first, and then all at once. One moment he's grasping at memories, desperate without knowing why to retain even a single image of an angry, scarred stranger saying incomprehensible things about eyes, and the next, nothing. He can't even remember what had him so anxious just now. A car alarm, probably, or a dog barking in the distance. He's always startled easily.

Mod note: I still quote it to myself from time to time. ‘’Martin, you ate the megalodon’’ makes me giggle and also terribly sad. This is an excellent way of exploring entities lore, as well as grief and hope. 

the garden of forking paths by @bibliocratic. 49k words. Jonmartin. Post-canon AU. Ending Speculation. Angst with a Happy Ending. Use of Spiral Doors.

Whatever he had predicted might happen, Jon wasn't expecting to survive upon demolishing the Panopticon. He certainly wasn't expecting to be rescued.

Instead, he wakes up in an alternative universe where he's never been the Archivist, and Martin Blackwood doesn't exist.

Martin Blackwood wakes up somewhere else entirely.

Mod note: I’m argentinian and the major element in this story is a Borgues book. OF COURSE IT’S HERE. This fic is an absolute ride and so so so beautiful - multiple universes and Jon and Martin doing the same thing over and over and over again, with hope of finding each other.

Family, Found  by Dribbledscribbles. Gen fic. 9k words. S4 Divergent. Canon Divergence. 

It’s Basira who catches onto it.

The collective shift that seems to come over them when heading in or out of the Institute. Not just the oppressive sensation of being observed, their every move catalogued for the voyeuristic cravings of some unseen Eye(s). That feeling remained with them even when they left the Institute these days, but it was always stronger inside its walls. That wasn’t the change. Nor was it the point.

The point was: making life worse for Jonathan Sims.

Mod note: Do you want to hit the Eye? Do you want all the Entities’s plans to be twarted by the power of found family? Do you want everyone who blamed Jon for everything in S4 to sit down and apologise? This is your fic.

Mod Ebby:

the apple of the eye by  gocrazygostupid. 2.8k words. Fluff. Lore speculation.

TELL ME, ARCHIVIST

WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE SONG?

i'm not sure. i don't really get the chance to listen to music

if i told you, what would you do with it?

Mod note: I am absolutely weak towards any fic that gives the Entities some form of sentience, no matter what canon said. Especially when these interactions are so surprisingly soft. 

I WOULD PLAY IT

I WOULD LISTEN

in the chillest land and on the strangest sea by  imperfectcircle and raven (singlecrow). 19k words. S4 Divergent. Canon divergence, in the space between 159-160

Jon remembers a statement he read years ago given by a Jesuit priest, who said that the shortest prayer he knew was, just, fuck it, as in fuck it; it's in God's hands. He takes Daisy's hand and trails on after her.

or; hope is a thing with feathers.

Mod note: Everytime I read this fic, I end up at least a little teary eyed. It’s not exactly happy, more bittersweet, considering, but I still love it.

Come Love This World (Come Hate It, Too) by cedarbranch. 3.3k words. Character Study, fluff and angst, spans s1-5. Canon Compliant. 

Jon never liked poetry, until Martin.

Mod note: Yes I am picking fics that personally came for my heart one way or another, not much else to say, besides that “it feels like loving you” haunts me still to this day, in a good way.

i love you, i'm glad i exist by kissyourlocalmoth. 1.7k words. Scottish safehouse period. Fluff.  Established relationship.

Martin was thinking of a poem. It’s name sat on the tip of his tongue, aching to get out. It was a lovely one, too: something about how life felt easy now, at peace; how the small things felt like everything, a poem about… the importance of the little moments. These last few days had been like that, he thought. He couldn’t stop smiling to himself recently, and even Jon teased him about it sometimes, though he was hardly less giddy. He thought of the immense joy the little things brought him now, the mugs of tea they made for each other, how he would lay in their bed late at night staring at the ceiling, his love nestled against his chest, overflowing with so much contentment and fondness he did not know what to make of himself.

Mod note: Short and sweet, it was the first time I read that particular poem, and now it’s forever intertwined in my head with little scenes of jon and martin in the scottish safehouse before 160 happens.

exit wound by autoclaves. 3.1k words. Post-canon AU. Ending speculation.

Suppose there is a house on a hilltop. Suppose there is a story. There is always a story, and every universe is always expanding.

Mod note: I would’ve liked to tag this more, but it would probably spoil the twist it has. Reading back on it, the narration reminds me of the statement from 196, which I find fitting and a funny coincidence, considering. 

[wesawbears]

Posting here in its entirety now that it’s complete. Featuring the favors Neil used to get Andrew to go to Aaron’s wedding, Neil being a menace, and Andrew and Aaron talking, as well as Andrew submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

Enjoy!

--

Andrew shut the door with his foot, letting his bag sit by the door for a minute. He knew Neil would call out his hypocrisy the moment he saw,considering their previous conflicts about what apartment etiquette entailed, but for now, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Walking into the kitchen, he set his keys down on the table and scratched at Sir’s chin where he was headbutting against his hand. He stopped when he saw something unfamiliar on the fridge and walked over to inspect. They weren’t the type to keep mementos or reminders there; the dark blue stood out against the bareness there.

In loopy script, it read: “Save the Date! October 21st. Aaron Minyard and Katelyn Winters”.

He began peeling it off the fridge. Neil had wanted him to see it, but there was no way. Just seeing their smiling faces made something surge up in his stomach. He had let Aaron go years ago, but he never said he had to be happy about it, and he certainly had said nothing about supporting Katelyn or their relationship, the same as Aaron had never said anything to Neil that wasn’t strictly required for Exy. He could tolerate talking to Aaron, more than he had when they’d been in the same state, but that didn’t mean they did things like this. Nicky’s wedding was bad enough.

“Oh, you found it.”

Andrew turned, determined to not give Neil the satisfaction of seeing that he’d startled him. The slight smirk told him he hadn’t succeeded, but he kept his face placid and unbothered. “So you put it there on purpose? I assumed it had been put there by mistake.”

“No. I put it there so I’d remember to put it on the calendar...eventually.”

“What for?” Andrew asked, tilting his head in mock confusion. Better to not give him the satisfaction..

Neil raised his eyebrow, a look of condescension that had Andrew’s hackles up. “Because I’m going? I assumed you would too, but I can go alone.”

It was true. Neil was an adult who could make his own choices and Andrew wouldn’t stop him from going. But somehow he doubted that Neil would leave it there. The very fact that Neil had taken the time to put it on the fridge meant that this was premeditated and that, likely, this was an argument he wasn’t going to win. That didn’t mean that Andrew didn’t intend to gain as much ground as he could.

“So eager to go play with your friends?”

“Our friends.”

“Presumptuous.”

“You’re right. Aaron will be there, considering it’s his wedding. So he would be just yours then.”

“Aaron is no longer my responsibility. He can fuck up his life however he wants.”

Neil leaned against the kitchen counter, staring back at Andrew with the same level stare. “What do you want for it?”

Andrew held himself against the weight of being known that well. He kept his voice casual. “Skipping ahead so soon? You haven’t appealed to the fact that he’s my brother yet.”

Neil huffed. “Wouldn’t work. I’ve already worked through all your arguments. Had about a week to practice.”

Andrew drummed his fingers on the table. It was unnerving, as always, to know that Neil knew him well enough to anticipate his arguments, to have already taken the time to work this through in his head. It was as irritating as it was calming, in a way only Neil could manage to be.  “You assume you have something worth that much to me.”

“Don’t I?”

“This conversation is starting to bore me. Get to the point.”

“I can sign the papers. One phone call and I’m transferred to Chicago. Same schedule, same weekends off. No more watching each other’s games on TV.”

Andrew worked his jaw. Neil’s status states away had been a source of more irritation than he wanted to admit. It had taken him a long time to be able to admit that Neil was a part of his life that was maybe permanent, as close to permanent as he could allow himself, and now that he had, he felt every mile like a slow healing bruise. Neil’s contract was due for renewal, but Andrew’s team conveniently needed a striker. No coach would turn down one of the best strikers in the game. It was the one thing worth saying yes to and Neil knew it.

“Yes or no?”

Andrew knew that Neil would drop it the moment Andrew said no. Neil didn’t pick fights he couldn’t win. He was only asking because he knew from the start Andrew would agree.

“I’ll go.”

Neil grinned, and moved closer, hovering his hand close to Andrew’s. Andrew took the next step and linked their fingers together. For once, Neil didn’t push his luck with some smartass comment, but Andrew could practically see him biting it back. 

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m just glad you’ll be there.”

“Don’t say stupid shit,” he countered, pulling Neil in. 

“Yes,” Neil said, before Andrew could ask.

He pressed him to the counter and kissed him, letting the invitation fall to the ground.

--

It takes another favor for Neil to convince him that threatening Katelyn at the wedding wasn’t worth the trouble. Andrew severely disagreed, but pushing the issue wasn’t worth it, when Neil would pull back on both their agreements if he did. He didn’t linger on what that meant, on the fact that somewhere along the way he’d decided that keeping Neil meant more to him than settling past scores, and more to him than his brother. He wasn’t sure if that was healthy or not, but healthy had never been in his lexicon either way.

Neil still looked like a disgruntled cat any time he had to wear a suit, but Andrew had picked out a nice fitting one for him years ago, and he takes a moment to appreciate his handiwork. Neil is oblivious as always, though, and it takes him about two minutes of trying to get his tie right until Andrew can’t take it anymore.

“Impossible,” he huffs, and moves closer to secure it properly. Neil grins down at him and Andrew still feels the urge to push his face away, not knowing what Neil finds there to look at. “Staring.”

“Says the man who was literally standing there for two whole minutes.” Not as oblivious then.

Andrew doesn’t dignify that with a response, turning with a hum and heading towards the door. He’s timed it so they’ll be just close enough to on time for the ceremony that they can slip in the back. He lets the hum of the highway drown out the tight feeling in his chest.

When they get there, there’s an annoying sign that says “We’re all family! Pick a seat, not a side!” and Andrew considers walking out, but Neil is swept up by Matt and carried away, so Andrew has to follow, despite his misgivings. Nowhere in their agreement did it state that Andrew had to pay attention to the ceremony, so he tunes out and recites some book he has memorized to himself instead. 

It becomes painfully obvious at the reception that Neil is keeping an eye on him, so Andrew leaves him with Kevin, fighting over something inane and exy-related, and goes outside for a cigarette. He steps onto the terrace, only to find his brother leaning against a fence.

“I don’t think this is how weddings work,” he says as a greeting.

Aaron glances up, scowl as familiar as a mirror. “I told Katelyn I needed a minute.

Andrew nods and leans against the fence, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Didn’t think you were going to come.”

“Thank Neil.”

“After you thank Katelyn. It was her idea to send you the invitation. I told her not to bother.”

“And yet here I am.”

“Here you are,” Aaron agrees, leaning further back against the fence.

Andrew lets the conversation drop for a moment. He’s about to head back inside, when he hears, “Why?”

He turns back. “Why what?”

“Why did you come? We both know Neil isn’t here as a favor to me. So why would he think it’s important for you to be here?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question. Why had he bothered to come, when he and Aaron only spoke a handful of times a year? 

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully.

Annoyingly, Aaron scoffs. “Yes you do.”

“Enlighten me then,” he plays along.

Aaron shrugs. “I didn’t say I knew why. I just know that you don’t do anything without having some convoluted reason for it.”

“I didn’t know I was coming out here to have a conversation with the cheshire cat.”

Aaron chuckled and the sound was foreign to him. “We’re not 16 anymore. Hell, we’re not 20 anymore. We’re grown up.” He holds his glass up, toasting to nowhere.

“When did you start philosophizing? Andrew asked.

“It’s my wedding day-I’m allowed,” Aaron says, shaking his head.

“You’re so weird,” is all Andrew can think to say.

He looks at Aaron and wonders what he sees. Wonders if he mirror the relaxed posture, the way Aaron looks comfortable in his own skin. He wonders how long it’s been since he woke up screaming, if it’s a dull ache in the back of his mind, or an almost healed bruise, flaring up only when pressed on.

He hears the tell tale sound of heels on cobblestones. “Aaron? Honey, we’re about to cut the- oh.”

He looks up and sees Katelyn, wide-eyed and hesitant. He feels long forgotten anger well up, but thinks of Neil and pushes it down. With a long forgotten salute, he turns and leaves Aaron to his future.

Inside, Neil is leaning against a table, sipping his drink that Andrew can tell he hates. He takes it from him and downs it in a quick swig.

“That was mine,” he complains, nudging Andrew’s hip.

“You were too slow.”

“Everything okay?” he asks.

Andrew looks down at their hands, sees the newly acquired neat letters on the side of Neil’s thumb that match his own and feels something settle back into place. He looks up and past him to where Aaron is laughing while Katelyn puts whipped cream on his nose. 

“Yes or no?” he asks instead.

Neil smirks. “In the middle of their moment?”

“Yes,” he taps Neil’s thumb, “Or no?”

“Yes, Andrew,” he says and pulls him in the rest of the way. He hears Nicky yell something and flips him off. 

He’s okay.

[addictedtostorytelling]

In 7x17 at the end of the episode when Sara says to Grissom “you trust me?” And he says “intimately” (I screamed btw , how intensely he was looking at her I died) do you have a detailed description on what you think he is meaning I mean I get the gist of it but would really love your thoughts

hi, anon!

i do have an old meta on that scene here, if you're interested.

to add on to those thoughts:

in episode 02x08 "slaves of las vegas," heather kessler (correctly) surmises that the thing grissom fears most is "being known."

it's not that he necessarily fears just anyone knowing him but rather the people he cares most about. it's also not that he necessarily fears people knowing general trivia about him—like that he recreationally races cockroaches or that he used to work in minneapolis—but rather that he fears people knowing his character, and specifically his character flaws.

grissom fears that if the people he loves were to know all of his weaknesses, shortcomings, failures, and vulnerabilities, they wouldn't be able to love him in return. he fears their rejection.

consequently, he hides himself from them behind a wall of professionalism, keeping those he is closest to—i.e., his team family—from getting to know him on a personal level.

that's why even as late as the end of s1—at which point they've already been coworkers for around six years—warrick can say "who knows anything about that guy?" in reference to grissom's private life (see episode 01x20 "sounds of silence").

grissom curates a very purposeful mystique surrounding himself outside of the lab, making himself an enigma so as to preempt the rejection he believes will inevitably come should anybody really see him as he is.

enter one sara sidle.

because she is the person grissom loves most and because hers is the opinion he most cares about, he is absolutely terrified of letting her "in," fearing that if he does so, she'll be repulsed by him.

as he talks about in his monologue in episode 04x12 "butterflied," he believes that if he were to let sara really see him up close, beyond the safe setting of the lab, within the context of an actual romantic relationship, she'd soon realize that he was an old, ailing, misanthropic man and leave him for someone better.

that's why for so long he tries to hold back from being with her, even though he (secretly) wants nothing more than to do just that—because he's too afraid to give her the chance to see him outside of the context of their work.

of course, the operative word in the above sentence is "tries."

grissom may attempt to remain aloof from sara so as to prevent her from seeing the parts of himself that he can't stand (and thinks she won't be able to stand, either), but he ultimately fails to do so for two major reasons:

because for as terrified as he is of letting sara truly know him, he also (deep down) wants nothing more than for her to do so. for as much as his brain is screaming at him that there is danger in allowing her to witness all of his rough edges, his heart secretly longs to be known by her and hopes that maybe there could be a way for her to completely accept him, rough edges and all, if witness him she did. he is constantly thinking, "i can't show her that part of me because then she'd hate me," only to then immediately think afterward, "okay, but what if she didn't hate me, though? what if she actually could love that part of me, too?" you know that tim kreider quote "if we want the rewards of being loved, we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known"? grissom is perpetually negotiating that dichotomy within himself, always torn between his fear of rejection and his hope for love. and the thing is, while his first impulse is always to hold back and play things safe, there are times when he heeds his better angels and allows sara to see him as he is because he desires so much to be close to her, and that desire overwhelms his fears. to whip out a goo goo dolls lyric, when everything's made to be broken, he just wants her to know who he is. for every time he pulls away from her, he always eventually comes back and lets her hold his hand and stroke over his cheek and look into the depths of his eyes. and it's a slow process, to be sure, but over the course of years, he does eventually allow her get to know him, more so than anyone else.

because for all of his obfuscating, dodging, and attempts to keep himself aloof from her, sara takes the time to learn everything about grissom, and gradually over time she is able to prove to him that there is nothing in his character that's going to scare her off. the truth is, grissom is never as good at hiding himself from sara as he'd like to be because the tactics he uses to hide himself from other people don't work on her for the simple reason of her unfailing interest in him. while everyone else on the team takes him at face value and is put off by his quirks and abrupt exits and laconic answers, she doesn't and she isn't. she always looks for the deeper meaning with him and doesn't just give way when he attempts to downplay. it's like that poem "connubial" by stephen dunn: "because with alarming accuracy/ she'd been identifying patterns/ i was unaware of—this tic, that/ tendency, like the way i've mastered/ the language of intimacy/ in order to conceal how i felt—/ i knew i was in danger/ of being terribly understood." in spite of his efforts to remain unknown to her, she comes to know him better than anyone—and the thing is, every time she proves that she knows something about him he had tried to keep secret and that she is accepting of it, she reassures him that it's okay for him to show more of himself to her, even despite his fears. while she's not afraid to call him out when he does something genuinely shitty (such as, for example, when he acts like a jealous bastard when he finds out she's dating hank at the beginning of s3), she also shows him that so many parts of him that he thought would be "deal-breakers" for her simply aren't. she doesn’t consider him insufficiently human in the way he always feared he was. she's not repulsed by his vulnerability at all. she does in fact love him as is.

so it's a process, certainly, but over time, grissom does start to show more and more of himself to sara, allowing her to come to know him as no one else does. he allows her to see not only the polished public parts of himself that he puts forth for everyone else but also the parts of himself he's most insecure about.

and that's what true intimacy really is: feeling safe enough with someone to be vulnerable with them.

by s7, grissom trusts sara enough that he doesn't try to hide from her anymore.

he allows her to see him as he is, and he isn't afraid to do so because he knows that she will always be gentle with his heart.

while this statement certainly applies to their sex life, it extends far beyond anything they do in the bedroom.

it has to do with how they relate to each other—with the honest, genuine comfort they've developed between them over the course of their years together.

grissom knows that sara loves him for who he is, and considering where he started from and how guarded he is otherwise, that knowledge is such a huge thing for him.

it's all in that one word.

"intimately."

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.