#but... you know exposure therapy

[vidalinav]

im so happy you’re accepting prompts!! just know that there’s no pressure at all, and that we love your writing🤍 prompt: cassian and nesta talk about whether they’d still inevitably end up together if they weren’t mates and just alot of fluffy sweet banter

I did yours first because I really appreciated you saying that there was no pressure in completing it. I felt that and I thought it was the nicest thing in the world.

BUT It came out really stupid sorry so... I'm not going to tag anyone. However I will own my shame so here you go.

It's banter in the form of pillow talk, where Cassian constantly keeps Nesta up by asking her questions. In my brain, he goes on tangents and Nesta is the pragmatic one. That's like... okay Cassian. But again. STUPID!!!!!

~

“Do you think it would have been me?” Cassian asks as he tries to count constellations in fresh paint. “If we didn’t have the bond... would it have been us? I guess the real question is did the bond choose us from the start--our relationship destined? Or did the bond see us... how we acted and felt about each other, and some cosmic force recognized our love?

Nesta shifts in the bed, her eyes blinking up at him slowly. “Cassian these are not the type of questions you ask right before bed.”

But he has to ask, he always has to ask. There’s something about the darkness that has these questions bubbling out of his throat. “But think about it Nesta, don’t you think we’re sort of... odd.”

Cassian thinks about it all the time. There's no one more perfect for him then her and yet, he sees the way people look at them. His hands will always be stained with blood and Nesta is more fitted for white gloves and lace. And he knows she can hold a sword and fight with the best of them, but Nesta can fit anywhere and Cassian can’t fit.

“I mean I understand opposites attract,” he rambles on, “and we do have similarities, but we mostly fought in the beginning and yet I still wanted you even then. Was my want for you a part of the bond? Or was the bond part of wanting you? And if it’s the first, in another universe, in another time, would it have been me? And if it’s the second what if you hadn’t wanted me, too.”

Cassian turns to face her, the bed creaking as he moves. He watches as she frowns, her lashes casting shadows on her cheek. “I promised we’d have that time, but I never considered that in another life it might not have been me at all.”

It's not the first time he keeps her awake with some question or another.

Usually, she merely sighs exhausted at what do you think the meaning of life is? Does time even exist if we really think about it... Do you ever think about how you can know a person you’re entire life and only scratch the surface of who they are? Does that mean you can never really know a person truly in the first place and if that’s the case aren’t we all living with practical strangers?

More often than not Nesta’s covering her ears with the pillow, groaning while Cassian tries to pull it from her face. They’ve had a hundred and one nights like this. He wants a million more.

Cassian tries to catch his breath, almost wishing she’d groan or sigh or roll her eyes, play it off like it’s a stupid question because it is. he knows it is.

“So tell me,” he says, his words a whisper of worry, “what do you think? Was it always going to be us?

Nesta's brows furrow quizzically and she purses her lips. “I don’t know if you can tell this about me Cassian, but I don’t like many people.”

Cassian frowns at the words, “Is that an answer?”

Nesta shrugs, “I find it hard to believe I would have loved anyone else.”

“So you’re with me... by process of elimination?”

“Or...” She offers, her gaze alight with mirth, “you’re the exception.”

Hmm.

Cassian needs to think on that one.

“But hypothetically, what would you have done if it wasn’t me?” he goads. “We only exist because you turned fae, what if you hadn’t? There may or may not be a bond but the relationship is impractical if you’re human and I’m fae. You’d just get married to some poor bloke who gives you this large diamond ring and you have 12 children?”

Nesta scoffs, “Twelve?”

“Whatever number,” Cassian dismisses.

Nesta raises her hands to stop him, “we are not having twelve children.”

“That’s... a topic for another day,” Cassian waves off.

“No,” Nesta sings, “that’s a topic I will resolve now. We are not having twelve kids.”

“But I want a big family,” Cassian pleads, grabbing her hands and giving her that look that he knows makes her take pity on him.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “You’re head is big enough to fill up the entire house. We have no room for that many people. No. No!”

“The House is four stories. What are we suppose to do with all those rooms?”

“Cassian unless you are birthing these babies yourself in which I will fully support you emotionally, spiritually, and financially, we are not having twelve children. End of discussion.”

Cassian only grumbles out a response.

“And regarding your other question, I don’t know what I would’ve done. That scenario doesn’t exist. I’m fae, you’re fae. That’s it and unless we plan on dying tomorrow, I don’t know if we’d end up together in the next life. I don’t know if the bond keeps us coming back to each other. I don’t care. I want this life with you. I chose you and you chose me and we’re here together. And I guess, if the bond, or what I deem as love, means I’m going to have to answer these questions every night, then I guess that’s what I’m going to do.”

Nesta reaches for him, and Cassian shifts to make room for her. She settles her head on his outstretched arm. It tickles at his skin, but he can’t believe she’s just satisfied enough with that answer.

“Would you have married someone else though?”

Nesta sighs, but Cassian waits for the answer. She groans, mumbling about not getting any sleep.

“Probably,” she says at last. “Yes. If you want that answer, then yes. But quite honestly knowing my character and knowing the males in my town, we probably wouldn’t have lasted long. I would have killed him long before we ever reached twelve.”

Cassian laughs and Nesta brightens at the sound.

“Or he might have run head first into a moving carriage on his own accord. I wouldn’t have judged him.”

“How would you kill him?”

Nesta smirks, her eyes maliciously bright. “Poison... knives... a trip down the stairs.”

“Make it look like an accident.”

“Of course,” Nesta beams.

“You’ve thought about this a lot,” Cassian says, noting his mate’s excitement.

Nesta sets her hand on his cheek, rubbing her thumb along the rough stubble of his chin. “Murder is always on my mind.”

“I should probably stop keeping you up with my questions, then.”

Her lips are impossibly close to his, and he can feel her breath on his skin. “Maybe you should. I’m sure the House knows how to hide a body.”

Cassian laughs, the sound bright in the shadowed room. He’s sure that’s true and her lips raise at his calm shrug of acceptance. His eyes dart to her mouth.

Cassian wants to kiss her, but he has to tell her first.

“I love you.”

“I know,” she says, her lips nearly touching his.

Being near her is a relief. But hearing her speak is something else entirely. Maybe he asks her these questions because he wants to hear her voice into the last moments of the day. At all hours of the night.

Nesta wraps her hand around his hair and tugs.

But another question forms in his mind. “Would you’re family have approved of me?”

Nesta rolls her eyes, pulling away from him. Cassian grasps her arms, pulling her back. “Hey, come on now. You’ve indulged me this far.”

Nesta pretends to think about her answer, and as he waits she looks to the ceiling as if she’s actually thinking about it. Cassian can practically hear crickets.

“It’s taking you this long!”

“Well... I’m trying to be accurate!” She throws up her hands. “You know maybe they wouldn’t, because you’re not... princely. No offense.”

“None taken,” He remarks. Because he knows all too well the differences between them. Cassian doesn’t mind. She’ll be his queen. He can be her guard. Her knight. Whatever keeps her next to him.

“But then again, maybe they would because you are rich--hey!”

Nesta catches the pillow he throws and she throws it back at him. He catches it easily before it hits his face.

“Who hits their mate upside the head?” She yells.

Cassian rolls his eyes, “You hit me all the time.”

“I smack your butt. That is not the same.”

Cassian scoffs, “You won’t let me smack your butt.”

“That’s because you try to do it in public places!”

“Oh, so you’re okay if I tap your ass in private. You trying to tell me something Nes? Who knew you'd like to be spanked?”

Her cheeks redden and Cassian shrugs, thinking about it. "Actually I should've known that."

“I change my mind," She announces, grabbing his pillow, "they’d hate you and you know what? I would marry that man and I’d have twelve beautiful children!”

Then Nesta simply turns away from him and pulls the blanket over her head.

Cassian tries to pull the blanket down, but she doesn't loosen her grip. “Take that back! Nesta, take that back. I’m serious.”

“Nesta!” He hisses. “Nes, I’m not going to stop bothering you. Nesta!”

But Cassian slumps as the lump of blankets stays still. Nesta doesn’t even make a sound. 

“How about I pretend you didn’t just tell me about one of your fantasies and I'll bring it back up later. I’ll even pretend I found it in one of your books."

He rubs at what he thinks is her ass and Nesta shoves down the blankets with a flourish. Her hair is a mess of tangles all over the pillow.

“I hate you,” she says.

Cassian grins, setting his palms on her reddened cheeks.

“I love you,” He says softly, lightly tracing her soft skin with his thumb. It’s a privilege to be near her, to touch her, to be loved by her. To laugh and laugh and laugh. It doesn’t matter how, when, what, or why. “I wouldn’t want anyone else but you.”

Cassian kisses her lightly, “I still think we should talk about those children though.”

He merely gets smacked in the face with a pillow.

~

Fin.

~

I keep reading this and I can't make it better, so.... you win some, you lose some, you know.

[mawofthemagnetar]

Written in the Diorite

WARNING: Implied/referenced character death, a possibly-incorrect depiction of exposure therapy, implied violence, unreality, existential crisis, and psychological horror. 

Doc had prescribed it, you see.

It was called “exposure therapy” and it apparently helped with...well, that was where Doc had lost him a bit. Iskall had looked it up and exposure therapy wasn’t really used for “soul-deep hatred”- it was more meant for overcoming fears or anxieties. 

But hey, if it helped, it helped.

He shouldered his rucksack, shrugging a bit as he walked up the hill towards Bdubs’ monolith. One night in a diorite tower, Doc had said. Exposing him to the thing he hated would hopefully lessen his hate of it. Sounded good in theory, but then, so did a lot of things.

Iskall shrugged and walked towards the tower.

Bdubs was waiting at the door with a slightly…pinched…smile on his face.

“You got everything? You okay?” Bdubs said nervously. He started tweaking his forefinger with his other hand, wrapping it up and bending it back and forth- a classic Bdubs stress tell. “If you don’t wanna do this, I mean-“

“No, I think- Doc’s right. This has gone on long enough. I need to do this for myself.” Iskall said firmly.

Then he looked up at the monolith and his guts lurched.

The diorite stared down at him, accusingly. White and ugly and awful, blinding him with its hatefulness. He felt the bile rise up in his throat, the desire to just reach into his ender chest and extract some TNT and wipe this hideous mistake off the-

No. No. Calm down, Iskall. Calm down.

Doc…had a point.

Iskall took a deep breath.

“I got my overnight bag, so I’ll be fine. I even brought my own bed. Make sure my carrots get watered, okay?” He said, and Bdubs nodded.

“Yeah, sure. Just…think of it like a little mini base swap!” he said brightly, still jerking his forefinger around. It was starting to look a bit painful.

“Yeah, exactly!” Iskall said brightly, “I…I have to do this. For myself. And if it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t work. You’ll see.” He said with a smile, stepping up the stairs.

“Just don’t, uh…don’t…blow the place up.” Bdubs said nervously, “Please. I worked hard on that.”

Iskall chuckled, and threw his last ender chest at Bdubs’ head.

“Here. There you go, bro. Now I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Bdubs’ shoulders fell in relief.

“Alright. Have fun! Maybe you’ll learn to like diorite!” he said brightly. 

Iskall nodded and slammed the door behind himself.

He put his pack down on the floor.

And he blacked out.

~*~*~*~*~

Eight hours of absolute silence followed. Bdubs was starting to get worried. Rather than staying at Iskall’s starter base, he whipped together a humble little tent on a hill overlooking his monolith. A humble little tent with a spiral staircase and a bath big enough for three, but humble enough for his purposes.

Also moss instead of wool because he ran out of wool but the point was it was a humble tent and he was staying in it.

The dawn broke, and Bdubs crawled out of his tent in his (Moss) bathrobe, toothbrush in one hand and eyes on the horizon.

His monolith was still there. Thank god.

He shakily opened his console and typed out a message.

<BdoubleO100> Iskall? You good?

<Iskall85> yeah I’m good. great actually. Had a good sleep!

Bdubs smiled. Okay, awesome. Maybe Doc was right! Exposure therapy was good. Maybe next he could build a little something out of birch and prismarine to help Keralis get over his own issues?

He brushed his teeth in the ensuite he’d built (every humble tent needed an ensuite), got dressed, and skipped up the hill to his monolith. Everything looked fine on the outside. Lulu was happily snorting and snuffling at the grass, the flowers were happily swaying in his garden, and oh yeah, his house was still perfectly intact.

Bdubs raced up the steps and burst in through the front door without bothering to knock. It was his own damn house, he had nothing to-

…to…

“Hallo, Bdubs!” Iskall said brightly, looking chipper and hearty and none the worse for wear, “Sleep well last night?”

“…Y…yeah…” Bdubs said, his eyes going wide as he scanned over the walls.

“Great! I’ll be honest, I don’t remember a lot about last night, but I feel pretty good! Honestly, I think Doc’s right- this exposure therapy thing really works. I mean, sort of. I’m even thinking, maybe- maybe I’ll use some diorite myself in one of my builds!” Iskall was heading for the door, cheerfully oblivious to Bdubs’ panic.

“M- maybe- maybe-“ Bdubs stammered, and Iskall nodded.

“Yeah! Maybe I will! Anyway, thank you so much. I did my best to tidy up. See you!”

And with that, he slammed the door.

And left Bdubs alone in his monolith.

Staring at the walls.

BDOUBLEO100 was scrawled on the nearest one in Iskall’s hand, in some kind of paint or marker or something. A scrawling, sprawling message, twisting all across the diorite, gleaming black pen on stark white stone.

Bdubs’ hands started to shake.

His entire life was scrawled out in the penstrokes, things Iskall couldn’t possibly- his birth, his mother’s sickness after, the time he fell off his dad’s shoulders and split his chin open-

Tumbling off a log, skinning his knee-

School, friendships, first kiss, first date, the first build, his comm-

And then-

bdoubleo lends diorite monolith to iskall

bdoubleo reads summary of his entire life

bdoubleo cries in terror

bdoubleo will run for help, scream

bdoubleo will-

Bdubs’ eyes fell lower. And lower.

Build after build, season after season, and then he- and then-

He dies and respawns and dies and respawns and then at the bottom corner of a wall the words abruptly stop and he reads, he reads, his death, his eventual-

Tears started leaking from his eyes as he spun around, and saw, and saw,

DOCM77 CREATED IN A

MUMBO JUMBO BORN TO

GRIAN HATCHED FROM

KERALIS1 SPAWNED FROM VOID PRIOR TO

XISUMAVOID CLONED FROM-

Bdubs ran out of the monolith, screaming till his lungs were raw.

[marlinspirkhall]

The spiders in my bedroom have got me so well-trained. Today I noticed that Harold II had moved from his perch in the corner to sit beside the window again (which he hasn't done since Wednesday evening when the heatwave finally let up), and it struck me as odd.

But lo and behold, it's too warm tonight, so I had to open the window, and he's just sitting there smugly on his second web, like it's his summer home.

The most upsetting part is, there haven't been any flying bugs in my room all summer, so he must be doing something right.

[chamomile-g-tea]

[inflicts my ocs with my mental illness] Jules/button has OCD !! good luck little bastard

[buildoblivion]

the fun thing about my job is it gives me whole new ways of projecting on my best boy klaus - for example, i’ve spent 20 minutes formulating a headcannon that reggie used to take him to funeral homes too and now as an adult he knows a worrying amount about how to prepare, embalm and/or get rid of a body

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

If you're a "mental health advocate" who thinks triggering people's phobias is "funny" or "helps them get over it" I am going to punch you in the face. If you can understand why triggering someone's PTSD is bad you can understand why triggering someone's phobia is bad.

[hychlorions]

my ambition will be my downfall someday. good thing i’m only ambitious when it comes to ace attorney

[seoafin]

[whaleofatjme1920]

This is not your domain, emotionally unavailable man with commitment problems but secretly has a heart of gold.

[starshine-selfships]

Certified gayboy moment

[pipcoded]

fighting back against my scrupulosity in the nerdiest way possible aka kinning irredeemable characters and imagining them being redeemed and developing ocs/a fursona who are abusive serial killers

[misanrist]

ILL FOLLOW BACK I PROMISE…IVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS PRESENTATION AND SLEEPING

[kakusu-shipping]

Hey I just wanted you to know that I think youre really cool! if you ever wanna chat in DMs or Discord or anything I'd be down. Sorry if this is weird or you'd rather not me send you stuff like this aa

--redacted-scrybe

@redacted-scrybe NO IT'S ALL GOOD!!! DM me any time they're easier to respond to than asks anyway and I'm so down to chat!!

[lemememeringue]

okay so we all know it's gross and wrong to ever expect or ask someone to censor or add disclaimers to their own bodies that are just existing out there,, so what actually are some good ways to engage w ppl whose appearances are triggering without making the other person feel uncomfortable?

I think the answer involves exposure therapy, which I am familiar with, but I don't know how to safely use the techniques in this sense.

[my-chemical-rot]

If you tag pictures of lizards & salamanders & such so that people with herpetophobia like myself can filter the tag and don’t have to see them when mindlessly scrolling through tumblr, this is for you: 💖💕💘💖💞💓💕💖💞💘💕💖💞💗💞

[gottagobuycheese]

to everyone who doesn’t turn into a paranoid flesh-mannequin full of so much adrenaline that death would be a more pleasant alternative every time you see a spider move (or not move, even): how does it feel to know you’re one of the most powerful beings on the planet