wishcamper

[wishcamper]

WIP Wednesday

Enjoy this snippet for Cassian week. @wishcamper is the only reason this exist. I had enough planned for Cassian week.

Illyrians didn’t feel fear. It was as ingrained into their culture as bastards dying in the snow. Cassian knew both were lies. The seven siphons strapped to his body was proof that bastards didn’t die in the snow. Fear clung to him though he tried not to let it effect his scent. Cassian had to wonder if the other grunts were doing the same. This was not their first battle, the war had been going on for three years now, but the high had worn off. They had seen atrocities during that time that Cassian knew would haunt him if he made it out the other side.

The sweat coating his skin helped mask the scent of fear. The heat in Évora, a small town in the center of the Summer Court, was like nothing he had ever felt. At first it had been welcomed. Winter in Illyria was cold and harsh. Even those with the largest tents could succumb to the elements. Crossing the border into Summer had felt like life had been breathed back into his frozen skin. That feeling lasted for a day.

Now as he helped dig a trench Cassian longed for the mountain wind. The work was mind numbing. The sweat from his hands made the wooden handle of the shovel slick and harder to grasp. Dirt flew up into his eyes each time a shovel dug into the ground.  The trench wasn’t for anything. Just busy work to keep the grunts in line.

Cassian didn’t know the other Illyrians standing next to him. No one wore a camp crest once they were out on the field. They weren’t from Windhaven, maybe one of the northern more nomadic camps based on their thicker accents. His seven siphons had earned him awed respect at first, but males gossiped more than females when they had nothing to do but dig trenches and wait for orders. Word spread quickly about who he was. A bastard. A bastard who had so little control of his rage that he wiped out a camp shortly before the war fell upon them. Strength was honored in Illyria, but every lost fell on him now. Durk Ridge could have provided support if they had still been around.

It compounded his guilt. The isolation was familiar, like a wound that had healed but still ached when the chill set ii.

[wishcamper]

“I don’t know anything, but I miss you” had my chest physically aching with Nesta’s inner turmoil, and that’s how I know it was beautiful writing 😩

You have such a way with words to make the reader feel what the character does and it is amazing to read! Thank you for blessing our eyes with your amazing works!!

Do you have any works in progress that you are excited to share?

Ahh thank you anon, this is so sweet! I'm so glad that fic is resonating with people.

As for your questions, I do have a few wips that I'm planning on sharing soon. Both for Cassian week!

I have my first ever Cassian monster fic! It's your standard 'maiden sacrificed to the beast in the woods,' with a small twist. Cassian finds himself in a bit of a bind ;)

Here's a snippet of it that I posted a few weeks ago, and I'll probably also be posting one later today.

And then I have some modern nessriel (which is actually a love letter for @wishcamper). What's the plot, you ask? There isn't one. It's just smut and Azriel being pathetic.

[wishcamper]

5 and 10 for the fandom asks!

5. something you see in fics a lot and love

look, i'm a simple woman. i see only one bed and my brain goes ooooo!! i do also love when authors have characters or world-building that they carry across otherwise unrelated fics, like yes give me the full cinematic universe

10. a blog (mutual or one you follow) that has made your fandom experience brighter

i have to say everyone who works on creating event weeks. my involvement amounts to making suggestions for things, but the folks really running shit behind the scenes do so much work and bring so much life to the fandom that i think they deserve more credit!

ask game here!

[wishcamper]

I love everything that you've written! Smoke Signals is one of my favorite Nessian fics at the moment. Every chapter hits so hard. They just feel so raw and so human and I love it so much

flattery will get you everywhere, here's a sneaky peek of a few chapters from now:

but for real thank you, it's been cathartic to write and i like knowing whatever of me i'm putting into it makes it all the way over to you!

[wishcamper]

✨ love your fandom asks ✨ 

Saw the opposite of this floating around and thought the reverse might be fun.

list 3 positive things about your current fandom(s)

a headcanon you weren't sure about at first but have come to like!

a character that fandom has helped you appreciate

say something nice about a ship you don't ship (it can be another ship in your fandom, a mutual's OTP, etc)

something you see in fics a lot and love

something you see in art a lot and love

your favorite tropes to read/write/draw

you hope more people will come to appreciate ___ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc)

a ship that isn't your OTP but that you enjoy

a blog (mutual or one you follow) that has made your fandom experience brighter

if you're a writer or artist, what fic or piece of art are you proud of making?

compliment someone else in your fandom

your favorite type of fandom event (gift exchange, ship week, secret santa, prompt meme, etc)

the ship that always makes you smile

the character that always makes you smile

a tiny detail in canon that you want more people to appreciate

the thing in canon that everyone loves and that you also love

a fandom tag that you track

your current fandom(s)

your very first fandom!

a fandom you're not active in anymore but that you still really like

the fandom friend you've known the longest

the fandom you're curious about because of a mutual

how has fandom positively impacted your life?

a piece of advice for taking care of yourself in fandom spaces

[wishcamper]

Reblogging bc I’m going to the beach today and this one still hits!

Cassian Appreciation Week Day Six: Birthday

here's a late night submish for birthday day for @cassianappreciationweek inspired by a summer i spent in the Outer Banks and some hardcore 2017 nostalgia

You can read it here or on ao3!

Hands Down

In which Nesta avoids her life in New York, and accidentally helps Cassian avoid his birthday.

CW: brief mention of rape, addiction, and verbal abuse

The words are hushed, let's not get busted Just lay entwined here, undiscovered Safe in here from all the stupid questions "Hey, did you get some?" Man, that is so dumb Stay quiet, stay near, stay close, they can't hear So we can get some My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me So won't you kill me, so I die happy? My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or bury Or wear as jewelry, whichever you prefer. “Hands Down”, Dashboard Confessional

The warm blanket of the sun lay over her skin, cares drifting off with every gentle gust of the wind, gulls crying overhead instead of traffic, the smell of salt and sunscreen instead of smog.

The beach was beautiful, paradise, but mostly Nesta was just so fucking glad to be away from her life.

A Hot Girl Summer was exactly what she needed, according to her friends, at least to get the hell out of New York for the summer. There was no better way to reclaim herself than to join Emerie in her oceanside hometown, they said, to help her aging parents run the hotel they’d owned for decades on the Outer Banks. And on their days off to lounge on the sun-drenched beach drinking White Claws and talking shit and ranking the steamiest passages from their respective novels.

And, of course, checking out The Lifeguard.

They called him The Lifeguard because they didn’t know his name, but Emerie and Gwyn were too perceptive not to notice Nesta had been ogling him every chance she got. Forbidden catnip man , Gwyn sometimes called him, as he was everything Nesta denied she was attracted to even though she totally was: long hair, rough around the edges, covered in tattoos. Just admit you have a thing for men who look like they’ll ruin your life, Emerie said.

Nesta’s typical type skewed more straight-laced, finance guys and trust fund yuppies, or else the semi-starved academics who could quote Salinger but couldn’t find the clitoris. There was a comfort in knowing they’d turn out to be shitty, but it was all so fucking shallow, the idea of a couple instead of two people really into each other. In the end she got fed up, or they cheated, or some stupid argument made it clear that things were going nowhere.

It was never surprising, but the breakups always left her with a pit of self-doubt deep inside, that perhaps she was really the common denominator in all these relationships, that the treatment she got was earned.

And then there was Tomas. Her ex-fiance was different from the others, which she’d first thought was a good thing - understated, from a working-class family. Nothing electric about their dynamic, but steady, normal. He didn’t embarrass her at work events, didn’t flirt with her sisters. He would cat-sit occasionally for a friend, which she saw as a green flag. They dated for a few years without incident, and so when he proposed in front of Bethesda Fountain in Central Park, Nesta thought to herself, This is fine. 

I can make this work. I can figure out how to be happy.

Over the next year the venue was booked, dress bought, her conservative mother finally gave up on a religious ceremony. Then three months before the wedding Nesta got a DM from a girl claiming she’d slept with Tomas after meeting him at the Biergarten at The Standard. 

Nesta remembered that night vividly. Tomas had told her he wasn’t feeling well, and she’d assumed he didn’t answer her texts because he was sleeping, going so far as to send an Instacart delivery to his apartment with food and medicine.

The girl had receipts, and Nesta’s self-respect had no choice. When she’d gone to his apartment to break things off he verbally attacked her, spewing a laundry list of her worst fears. That if she’d put out more regularly, been more affectionate, a better fiance, he wouldn’t have needed to cheat on her. That what she saw as her autonomy was actually his inconvenience, and she was selfish for wanting it in the first place. Nesta remembered his face twisting with fury as if his skin was splitting open, revealing the monster who’d lived inside all along as she wondered if this was all her fault.

So she preferred to admire The Lifeguard from afar, afraid of what might emerge if she were to do something he didn’t like. Perhaps more afraid that something about her brought that side out in the men she dated, whatever flaw lay within.

They were giggling about Gwyn’s book now, a little tipsy from a few hours on the beach, the hum of a four wheeler passing by. Nesta felt the muscle between her neck and shoulder relax for the first time in months. She turned back to a juicy part in her own novel when a shadow blocked the sun, and she looked up to find The Lifeguard standing over her with a smirk on his stupid, handsome face.

“Oh it’s you! Nesta’s Life-” Gwyn said brightly, and Nesta suppressed the urge to kick her, though thankfully her friend caught herself. “-long dream is to, is for me to learn how to.. Surf? We saw you out with your friend the other day.””

Nesta would’ve covered her face in her hands if his eyes didn’t slide to her then, stealing all the breath from her fucking lungs. God, it had to be a crime to be that good-looking. Curly black hair thrown up in a bun, tattoos over his tanned chest and shoulders that would’ve looked douchey on anyone else, anyone who didn’t have the muscles for them to dip and swirl across. He had an annoyingly nice smile that made her want to be mean to him, though something about those mischievous hazel eyes made Nesta think he’d probably like it.

“That is very specific. I’d love to once you get rid of those,” he said, pointing to the cans buried in the sand beside them. “You know you can’t drink on the beach. I’m gonna have to ask you to pour those out.”

The Lifeguard smiled then, and she saw he had a dimple that made her want to chug her drink in front of him defiantly. His accent was like honey whisky. A giant red buoy was slung across his back, but he was so huge Nesta could only see the top poke over a tattooed shoulder, which annoyed her for some reason. Her voice came out harsher than she meant it to when she sat up on her elbow.

“Are you kidding? We’re not bothering anyone.”

“I know, but I really need to go bust those douchebags and they’ll give me shit if I leave y’all alone,” he said, crouching down right next to Nesta’s towel so he could whisper conspiratorially, indicating over his shoulder at a group of twenty or so frat guys who’d been at it for a while. “I’m telling you to pour it out. If it happens to fall into a cup on the way, like say the cups we have at the guard stand over there, then so be it.”

His breath smelled like cinnamon and Nesta felt her friends vibrating behind her from holding in their giggles, praying her face looked red from the sun and not her mortification.

“Fine. Thanks.”

“Thanks. And if you do ever want me to teach your.. friend how to surf, you know where to find me.” The Lifeguard had the audacity to wink at her then before standing and walking up the beach without so much as a backwards glance, Gwyn and Emerie dissolving into excited conversation the moment he was out of earshot.

“Nesta! Why didn’t you ask for his number?” Gwyn whacked Nesta on the arm, exasperated.

“Because he was reprimanding us, hardly sexy.”

“Mm, speak for yourself,” Emerie said, they all turned to watch him walk toward the rowdy group of guys, his red shorts hiding nothing.

Suddenly, The Lifeguard stilled, his body rigid and attention drawn to the shoreline. Nesta turned her head to where he was looking and saw nothing, but before she knew it a flash of red streaked by and he was racing toward the water, rescue buoy in hand, diving into the waves and paddling with strong arms toward where Nesta could now just make out a young boy’s head slipping under the water.

Activity exploded around them - the screeching of a whistle, another guard racing back to speak into a radio at the station, red light flashing atop it. People were standing and pointing, chatter sweeping down the beach and The Lifeguard had almost reached the boy who still wasn’t resurfacing, water spraying around him before he dove, the buoy a startling marker of where both were underwater now in the churning sea. Nesta felt dizzy and realized she was holding her breath, the seconds stretching into years in her mind until two heads broke the surface and all the air rushed out of her, mesmerized by the way he gently guided the child to the float and smiled .

Then he turned so his back was to the beach and began to kick toward the shore. She could see the boy nodding as if The Lifeguard were speaking to him, giving him instructions, before he tipped his head back and let himself be pulled. When they reached the surf another guard ran down to meet him, and Nesta realized an ambulance had arrived, two EMTs jumping out in preparation.

The next half hour was a whirlwind of flashing lights and higher-ups coming to file reports, gawkers and bottleneckers crowding the parking lot. Nesta saw The Lifeguard chewing out who she guessed was the kid’s father, a man so drunk he leaned against the guard station to stay upright, sunburnt with unfocused eyes.

At last the ambulance cleared the parking lot, no lights or sirens as the boy was awake and talking. Emerie said it was probably protocol to get evaluated for something called ‘dry drowning’.

“Yeah, it can kill you even hours after you get out of the water. Not worth the risk.”

The Lifeguard had come up behind them somehow and was watching the ambulance turn onto the main road. Gwyn beamed in that way she did where her face became the sun, grasping him on the forearm.

“That was really impressive. I’m so glad you were able to get to him.”

“All in the job,” he said vaguely, waving a bored hand. Nesta couldn’t help but notice it was shaking. “Let’s talk about nicer things. Are y’all working here for the summer or just visiting?”

“I grew up down in Kill Devil Hills,” Emerie said, shading her eyes to look up at him. “My parents run The Windhaven. Gwyn and Nesta are escaping New York for the summer with me.”

“You might know my friend Rhys’ family, the Nights.”

Emerie snorted. “You mean the Nights who own half of Corolla? Yeah, I know them.”

“I’m Cassian,” he said directly to Nesta then, a look in his eyes she didn’t recognize, and that feeling of wanting to be mean to him rose once more. “We’re having a party tonight if you want to come by.”

There was a shuffle in which Gwyn and Emerie somehow couldn’t find their phones, forcing Nesta to hand over hers for The Lifeguard - Cassian - to put his number in. He typed for an absurdly long time as he and Emerie continued to chat about people they both knew before handing the phone back to Nesta, turning to leave with a little salute.

“So we’re going right?” Gwyn said, bouncing up on her toes with a vigor usually reserved for karaoke night at The Brass Monkey.

“Oh absolutely,” said Emerie. “I have to see how disgustingly huge their house is.”

Nesta ignored their matching grins and looked at her phone to where this supposed mansion was, how much of a pain it would be to go. Cassian had sent a text to himself, an address for somewhere in the Four Seasons complex, and saved his number as ‘Nesta’s Lifeguard’. 

It was followed by an emoji of waves and, absurdly, a bat.

—

Cassian couldn’t believe he was sitting across from the hottest woman he’d ever seen and it was his birthday and she was at his house and oh god there were so many ways this could go wrong.

Mor went all-out for his birthday as usual, flickering lights in the magnolias, Jell-O shots and jungle juice, her signature ‘Get Everyone Laid’ playlist pouding from the outdoor speakers of the giant Night estate. It still boggled his mind sometimes how wealthy she and her cousin were, despite living in proximity to it for nearly two decades.

Cassian wasn’t in the mood for celebrating though, his body still humming with adrenaline after the close call on his shift. He’d swallowed the more colorful insults he’d wanted to hurl at the kid’s father, recognizing it was his own shit coming up, the past becoming present as his therapist would say. His image of his own deadbeat dad was rotten at the best of times, though it always festered more strongly on his birthday.

There wasn’t any use in running from the facts: his father had raped his mother, she’d given birth to him while addicted to heroin, and then he’d been in the system long enough to leave a few scars before getting a long-term placement with the Nights. They’d tried over the years to make his birthday a happy time, but it never took. And so another sad kid hated his birthday, then turned into an adult who pretended it didn’t happen. Case fucking closed.

But Mor wanted a party, and so a party they were having. And Cassian couldn’t be too annoyed with her given it was the perfect opportunity to ask The Librarian to speak to him for more than five chilly seconds.

Nesta, a name as unique and lovely as she was. Not the name he’d imagined for her when he snuck glances from the chair, though he’d never pegged her as a Brittany or a Chelsea or any else so common. In his head he started calling her the Librarian, because every day he saw her she had a new book, and every day she’d leave having finished it. God, she was so, so far out of his league.

He’d nearly choked on his beer when she and her friends walked through the back gate, drawn by the sounds of the party in full swing. Azriel clapped a knowing hand on his shoulder and pushed him forward, encouraging, as if Cassian weren’t already spearing toward her to intercept her group before Mor or Rhys tried to hijack them. They both loved to compete over women, and though Mor had the better average Rhys was the winner for repeat customers. Cassian himself had the highest count the first few weeks of summer, but he’d dropped off the ranking altogether the first time The Librarian laid down in front of him on her powder blue towel.

Cassian showed them around to buy time, the cavernous house large enough to get lost in. Her redheaded friend was fascinated by the elevator, but he saw the way her sunset sound-colored eyes lingered on the secluded porch swing, wondered if she was picturing herself curled up there with a book.

From there the evening went surprisingly well, all told, his friends giving him a wide enough berth which they likely considered a birthday gift. Once Nesta shot a few glares at them when they tried to hover nearby, eavesdropping, and Rhys winked at him over her shoulder, crossing himself for prayer and mouthing Good luck .

But Nesta seemed to like talking to him for some reason, didn’t try to drift away or lose him like women did when they weren’t interested. He even managed to be funny despite usually losing all his wits when he really liked someone, which was a blessing as it allowed him to hear her tinkling laugh above the music. A lock of her hair brushed his shoulder when she tipped her head back and he was so fucking gone, so nervous about doing something to mess this up.

As the party wound down they ended up on a couple of sun loungers pushed together by the pool. Cassian was mystified that Nesta was still here, still talking to him about New York, tide patterns, his childhood cat Devlon. There was nothing she didn’t have an opinion about, and when her smooth leg brushed his, the coconut scent of her lotion begged him to run his tongue all the way up to where her freckle-dusted skin disappeared beneath her shorts.

Cassian excused himself before he lost his head, and once back in the kitchen for a refill Rhys and Mor cornered him, demanding to know why he wasn’t halfway inside The Librarian already.

“Y’all are creepy, you know that?”

Mor’s tongue was bright blue from the Jell-O shots when she stuck it out at him, Rhys’ waving a bored hand in front of his face. “You never wait this long. You must be head over heels.”

“He is,” Azriel mumbled as he shuffled in, noise-canceling headphones slung around his neck. “He turned down that girl we met at Avalon pier yesterday.”

Cassian said nothing, only stuffed his head farther into the fridge to reach the two non-shit beers he’d stashed in the back. He could smell Mor’s cherry chapstick when she leaned down beside him, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny when he turned. 

“Oh my god, you like her!”

“We’re just talking, nothing is happening.”

They didn’t believe him, obviously, but were kind enough to only smirk after him as he went back outside to where he’d left Nesta lounging on a deck chair. 

“Follow me,” he said furtively, adding when she looked confused, “My friends are being assholes, I don’t want to subject you to that.” They had a few minutes lead time before the vultures descended, and he didn’t want his nosy housemates fucking this up.

“Assholes about what?” She twirled a lock of gold-brown hair around her finger, silver nail polish flashing in the low lights surrounding the pool. “Oh, because you want to fuck me.”

She said it like it was a test he’d already failed, and Cassian was so caught off guard by the whole thing his response came out stammering, over-cautious.

“No, no, not at all.”

Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering across her face. “You don’t?”

Just then Mor’s laugh sparkled above them as she heaved the sliding door open and stepped onto the upper deck, followed by Rhys’ voice asking, “Where the hell did Cass go?”

“He better be getting his dick sucked so he’ll stop being so grumpy.”

“A hundred bucks says the closest she gets to his balls is a swift kick.”

Cassian was grateful for the darkness that hid his blush as they crept on silent steps to the end of the dock, past where the lights could pick out their silhouettes against the midnight bay. Back at the house they could see the others playing beer pong now on the deck, Nesta’s red-headed friend - Gwen? - bouncing up and down in victory after making a shot. He buried his surprise that Az had yet to go to bed despite his 7:00am shift start, and couldn’t help but wonder if a certain pair of long, slender legs had anything to do with it.

Smirking to himself, Cassian produced the beers from his hoodie and Nesta cracked one open.

“Done policing my drinking now, are you?”

“Just doing my job, Nes. You’re lucky I didn’t bust you for reading porn in public. There are children around, you know.”

She gave a defiant sniff and sipped her beer primly, the night wind whipping her hair about her heart-shaped face. “If women enjoying their sexuality intimidates you, just say so.”

He grinned, a thrill running through him at how self-possessed she was. Most women he dated were either under- or over-impressed by him, neither one earned, but he felt like Nesta was challenging him to rise to her level, to show up unapologetically as she was.

“You’re the only one who intimidates me, sweetheart, but I get the feeling you like it that way.”

She started shivering once the wind kicked up, and he offered her the hoodie too after a while, the gray fabric swallowing her, long sleeves pooling around her wrists. She looked so fucking cute he had to concentrate hard on what she was saying, though he couldn’t avoid the dopey grin that surely split his face in half watching her wave her arms about as she described their encounter with the rowdy group after he’d finished work. Apparently the guys had tried to pick up Nesta and her friends, albeit unsuccessfully.

“They thought it was going really well. It made me a bit sad for them, actually. Are your friends upset?”

The sharp turn in topic threw him, but Nesta just stared at him in that same increasing way, demanding truth in everything. Cassian swallowed, deciding to chance just that, to tell her what only three other people at that party knew.

“They’re fine, just pissed because I’m not letting them give me alcohol poisoning for my birthday.”

“Today is your birthday?” 

“Yeah.”

“This is your birthday party, the party we’re currently at.” Nesta looked flabbergasted, one hand at her forehead, the other gripping his arm.

“Uh huh.”

She released his arm and quirked her head to the side then, eyes narrowing. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I don’t really feel like celebrating. My birth wasn’t exactly a happy occasion.”

Her expression fell into one of understanding, and Cassian felt the rest of the truth stick in his throat, too dense and painful to dredge up now. Nesta scooted a bit closer and allowed her thigh to rest against his, her skin warm in the night air.

“Is that little boy okay?” she asked quietly, and for a terrifying moment he thought she was asking about his fucking inner child before remembering the rescue earlier.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Well, he has a negligent fucking father, but physically he’s fine.”

Cassian was surprised when she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He dared to pick up her hand and hold it, and when she didn’t immediately pull away he stroked the back with a thumb, tracing the bones.

“Look, my friends - they can be pushy,” he sighed. “I just want to be clear that I don’t have any expectations of you. I’m having a really good time just doing this.”

“Thanks. I’d gathered as much, but it’s nice to hear out loud. I’ve sort of sworn off men for the moment, anyway.”

Her hair was rippling behind her in ribbons and she looked so beautiful amongst the elements like this, but there was a sadness, a grief about her he’d never noticed before. As her words registered Cassian flipped her hand over and traced the lines of her palm. There was that piercing authenticity again, and it made him feel bold even as he fully expected her to shove him off the dock into the sound.

“Look, I don’t want to be presumptuous but you did come to my party. And I can’t even say it was for the free booze, because that’s the only drink you’ve had all night. Your friends have let you be all night. So if you’ve sworn off men, then why are you here?”

She didn’t answer, looking away, but he felt the pulse of chemistry between them, sharp and aching. Whatever National Geographic pheromones her body was giving off sent him into caveman brain, but even more so he wanted to pull her closer, to press his lips to the soft skin of her neck.

“Why are you here, Nes?” he repeated, squeezing at her hand until she looked back at him.

“Because I wanted to see if I could do it. Talk to a guy and have it be normal, feel nice.” Her voice was shaking, palm turning slick with sweat. “And it has. Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a while after that, listening to the waves lapping against the dock, the quiet rippling of the sound until she launched back into the story of the bros from the beach and they were off once more.

As the moon sank lower he took his phone out and shined it close to the water, pointing out the spade-shaped flounder on the bottom, their creepy, crowded eyes making Nesta shudder and draw her feet up from where they’d been dangling over the edge. Too bright to go gigging , he told her, and a blue crab scuttled by under the light, tiny claws raised with bravado.

“They say nature has an aspiration to be crab-like. Apparently evolution has made and remade crabs around five to six times,” she replied, and his heart was about to explode for wanting to kiss her. 

She was so sharp, so interesting it staggered him. Cassian knew he was right to have named her The Librarian, some freaky premonition, because she knew fucking everything about everything. He ran her through an exhaustive list of topics, her gestures getting more and more animated, smile flashing with the thrill of winning his game. Finally he discovered she knew nothing about constellations, and instead of gloating he pointed out Scorpius and Sagittarius, lining their arms up with her wrist in his grasp, drawing her pointed finger between dots in the sky.

The porch lights back at the house shut off before either thought to look at the time, and Cassian watched Nesta scroll through a few texts, finger twirling once more in her wind-tousled hair.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked, but she shook her head.

“My friends are already home, I was going to get a car.”

“Not many Ubers after 2:00. Let me take you home.”

They walked over to the ocean side and rode down the deserted beach on a pilfered four-wheeler from the guard stand. Moonlight casting everything in a silvery glow, gentle waves lapping at the shore. He told her over his shoulder about a time they’d tricked Rhys into eating a bowl of sea oats when they were younger, drawing forth once more that world-changing laugh.

As the houses grew closer together along the shore he felt her rest her head on his shoulder, and her breath tickled his neck as she yawned quietly. Everything felt very fast and very slow at the same time, some sort of delicious chaos that made him dizzy enough he had to grip the handlebars tighter to avoid tipping over. When they arrived at her house Cassian was punch-drunk and heated, so he was delighted when she accepted his offer to walk her to the door. 

He hopped the fence to unlatch the gate from the inside, didn’t miss the way her eyes roved over his arms when he secured the lock at the top once she’d passed through. They stood there for a moment under the porch lights, moths fluttering, staring as if waiting for the other to say goodnight first so as to not be responsible for ending this.

“I’m trying to think of something rude to say to make you go away, but I’m drawing a blank. I like you,” Nesta said. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I do. Like you.”

Then Cassian felt he might like his birthday after all as she leaned upward and kissed him like she meant it.

A few magical moments later she pushed off from his chest and smiled, disappearing into the house, the cool rush of AC carrying the scent of coconut out into the night. He was smiling so hard his jaw might break as he vaulted back over the fence, hopped onto the four-wheeler and drove home as fast as he dared, wind screaming in his ears, though nothing could sweep away the feel of her lips on his, the soft curve of her waist under his hand. The way he felt like he already knew her, had known her forever, and this was just the beginning of something that would change his entire fucking life.

About a mile from the house, Cassian paused to look out over the ocean, the briny tang filling his nose and lungs. Seagrass whispered along the dunes, and he saw the eyes of a ghost crab light up when he pulled out his phone, scuttling toward a thatch of seaweed where it disappeared.

Az: hey i can’t cover your afternoon on saturday, i’m taking the redhead surfing Mor: SO BABY PULL ME CLOSER IN THE BACKSEAT OF YOUR ROVER honestly get a new gimmick, the four-wheeler thing is getting not cute but if it ain’t broke yknow Rhys: Happy Birthday, I hope the prickly one is giving you a nice present. Rhys: I might have already stalked her instagram Rhys: And I also might have sent her sister a dm Rhys: Have fun Cassie 😄

He was about to put the phone back in his pocket when another notification popped up, one that made him feel like his body, his soul, his whole world was made from moonlight.

Cassian’s Librarian 📖🦀: call me later Cassian’s Librarian 📖🦀: i mean it Cassian’s Librarian 📖🦀: i know where you live

[wishcamper]

Kudos are great. Comments are great. But the true goal is becoming your favorite fanfic writer’s favorite fanfic writer.

[wishcamper]

OOOOKKAAYYYY

here's chapter XXX

eat up my beefy bois

prev below

The shop near Bone & Salt was easy to miss.

It was a strategic location. The scent of blood permeated the air, better to hide the fights below, rounds cycling even this early in the day. The more prized fighters brawled at night, when nobles and commoners alike squashed into wooden pews, money changing hands faster than the Sidra rushed from high in the mountains.

All off the books, of course. Rhys knew of the rings before he’d gone Under the Mountain, but in his absence the they'd had a resurgence like so many of the seedier parts of Velaris, grown unchecked like weeds.

“Prince of Bastards,” said the female lounging on a divan in the back of the shop. “Your nose is looking remarkably unbroken these days.”

“Jesiba. I’d like a word.”

She wasn’t High Fae but she wasn't far off, the silk scarf wrapped about her head hiding most of her white-blonde hair, her rounded ears. The female oozed an aura of power, evident in the opulent surroundings, the built male knelt massaging her feet.

“I stopped believing in ghosts a long time ago, but I might have to start again. Arthur, go find something to dust,” she ordered, wriggling her foot away in annoyance. “I have a haunting to attend to.”

Jesiba Roga ruled these parts, though she’d never cop to it. A ‘business owner’ she called herself. But Cassian knew all too well what coin funneled through the antiquities trade that was her cover. He wished he could say that was the reason for the tremor he fought to keep out of his voice.

“I need your help.”

Giving a cruel laugh, Jesiba rose gracefully, circling him where he stood in the center of her ornate showroom. “Mhmm. Leave without a word, then show up like a stray hound, begging for scraps. I should’ve guessed.”

“Come on, I’m much handsomer than a stray hound.”

She gave a skeptical hm! but led him to the back room anyway. Sumptuous and moody, every surface not covered in velvet or silk was littered with jewels and trinkets. Amren would’ve wept with joy.

Cassian felt more like he was going to be sick.

Gaze avoiding the low bed in the corner, he eased both pieces of the stone disc out of his pack. Set them on the table affixed with various glass lenses, so heavy they almost toppled over a spindly glass.

“It’s this. I need to find out what it is, if it can be put back together.”

The lenses whirred and clicked as Jesiba searched for the right magnification. “Where did you get it?”

Cassian only arched an eyebrow, and she pursed her lips, smirking.

“Any information about its provenance helps.”

“It’s from Illyria, a place called Stone Canyon.” The name clawed its way out, leaving his throat raw.

Unanswered questions still festered. Why now? How had he found the other piece? What was she—Rhiannon—why did she have it in the first place?

And then what had someone been yelling as he was torn away? He'd thought it was her name, Cerys, but after all he’d learned from Sulevia, Cassian didn’t know what to make of it. The images of the moment fragmented, as if he’d made them all up.

Jesiba muttered a few things to herself, turning the pieces over.

“And if I help you, what will I get in return?” she asked, fingers drumming against the worktop.

“My immortal gratitude.”

“Gratitude doesn’t keep the Guild from nosing around, asking too many questions.”

Her acid smile flashed.

“Always angling. Haven’t you ever done something just from the goodness of your heart?”

He didn’t blame her for the scoff, nor the derisive laughter that followed, rippling the jet black silk of her gown.

“You sound like the High Lord. How noble of him, to help rebuild the Wall. Surely there were no other motivations to leave his mate and heir.”

Something whirred on one of the high shelves—an orrery, much smaller than Rhys’.

“You’re the one saying so,” he deflected. “Not me.”

“I remember all those nights you soaked my lap with your tears as I patched you up. I know what the High Lord was Under the Mountain.” Cassian felt all his muscles lock up. Jesiba rasped her shimmery nails against the stubble at his chin. “You see? Altruism is for kings, precious. We smallfolk can’t afford it. Though I do miss running my fingers through this hair.”

Her hand trailed upward, as if to do just that, but Cassian side-stepped her, feigning interest in a pair of glowing silver triangles strung on a gossamer-fine thread.

“Tell me what you want, Carrion Queen.”

[wishcamper]

OOOOKKAAYYYY

here's chapter XXX

eat up my beefy bois

prev below

The shop near Bone & Salt was easy to miss.

It was a strategic location. The scent of blood permeated the air, better to hide the fights below, rounds cycling even this early in the day. The more prized fighters brawled at night, when nobles and commoners alike squashed into wooden pews, money changing hands faster than the Sidra rushed from high in the mountains.

All off the books, of course. Rhys knew of the rings before he’d gone Under the Mountain, but in his absence the they'd had a resurgence like so many of the seedier parts of Velaris, grown unchecked like weeds.

“Prince of Bastards,” said the female lounging on a divan in the back of the shop. “Your nose is looking remarkably unbroken these days.”

“Jesiba. I’d like a word.”

She wasn’t High Fae but she wasn't far off, the silk scarf wrapped about her head hiding most of her white-blonde hair, her rounded ears. The female oozed an aura of power, evident in the opulent surroundings, the built male knelt massaging her feet.

“I stopped believing in ghosts a long time ago, but I might have to start again. Arthur, go find something to dust,” she ordered, wriggling her foot away in annoyance. “I have a haunting to attend to.”

Jesiba Roga ruled these parts, though she’d never cop to it. A ‘business owner’ she called herself. But Cassian knew all too well what coin funneled through the antiquities trade that was her cover. He wished he could say that was the reason for the tremor he fought to keep out of his voice.

“I need your help.”

Giving a cruel laugh, Jesiba rose gracefully, circling him where he stood in the center of her ornate showroom. “Mhmm. Leave without a word, then show up like a stray hound, begging for scraps. I should’ve guessed.”

“Come on, I’m much handsomer than a stray hound.”

She gave a skeptical hm! but led him to the back room anyway. Sumptuous and moody, every surface not covered in velvet or silk was littered with jewels and trinkets. Amren would’ve wept with joy.

Cassian felt more like he was going to be sick.

Gaze avoiding the low bed in the corner, he eased both pieces of the stone disc out of his pack. Set them on the table affixed with various glass lenses, so heavy they almost toppled over a spindly glass.

“It’s this. I need to find out what it is, if it can be put back together.”

The lenses whirred and clicked as Jesiba searched for the right magnification. “Where did you get it?”

Cassian only arched an eyebrow, and she pursed her lips, smirking.

“Any information about its provenance helps.”

“It’s from Illyria, a place called Stone Canyon.” The name clawed its way out, leaving his throat raw.

Unanswered questions still festered. Why now? How had he found the other piece? What was she—Rhiannon—why did she have it in the first place?

And then what had someone been yelling as he was torn away? He'd thought it was her name, Cerys, but after all he’d learned from Sulevia, Cassian didn’t know what to make of it. The images of the moment fragmented, as if he’d made them all up.

Jesiba muttered a few things to herself, turning the pieces over.

“And if I help you, what will I get in return?” she asked, fingers drumming against the worktop.

“My immortal gratitude.”

“Gratitude doesn’t keep the Guild from nosing around, asking too many questions.”

Her acid smile flashed.

“Always angling. Haven’t you ever done something just from the goodness of your heart?”

He didn’t blame her for the scoff, nor the derisive laughter that followed, rippling the jet black silk of her gown.

“You sound like the High Lord. How noble of him, to help rebuild the Wall. Surely there were no other motivations to leave his mate and heir.”

Something whirred on one of the high shelves—an orrery, much smaller than Rhys’.

“You’re the one saying so,” he deflected. “Not me.”

“I remember all those nights you soaked my lap with your tears as I patched you up. I know what the High Lord was Under the Mountain.” Cassian felt all his muscles lock up. Jesiba rasped her shimmery nails against the stubble at his chin. “You see? Altruism is for kings, precious. We smallfolk can’t afford it. Though I do miss running my fingers through this hair.”

Her hand trailed upward, as if to do just that, but Cassian side-stepped her, feigning interest in a pair of glowing silver triangles strung on a gossamer-fine thread.

“Tell me what you want, Carrion Queen.”

[wishcamper]

Prythian OSHA like:

[wishcamper]

wow, thank you for thinking of me!! i still really like this idea, maybe i'll update when some other wips get finished

A huge shoutout to @wishcamper for this heartwarming fic, Dark Matter, which tenderly portrays Gwyn taking her steps toward healing and love

Blurb: With her friends by her side Gwyn begins to understand just how deeply she’s loved and slowly learns it's okay to lean on to others too.

Thank you @wishcamper for this. We truly appreciate you sharing this with us ��

[wishcamper]

Literally I was JUST writing Cazriel last night, thank you for the delicious food 🙇🏻‍♀️

a lil cazriel for pride 👀

okay I may have gone overboard with this one but I just have such a soft spot for cazriel I love them so much 😭 they love each other so much it kills me

just don't look too close at the hands or tattoos lmao

[wishcamper]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love

This is actually like so hard.... I don't want to just say all my chaptered fics, but like....

When We Howl, the Moon Will Cower

Werewolf Cassian and Witch Nesta my beloved! Truly one of the fics I'm most proud of from a world building a lore perspective. And because of what I know is going to happen next 👀

My ACOTAR Regency Series

How can this not make the list? I mean Scottish Cassian interrupting a wedding? And then Lucien being an absolute down bad simp? What's not to love? And every week I think about maybe one day returning to this world to finish the set....

If Honesty Means Telling You The Truth (I’m Still In Love With You)

Probably one of my favorite one-shots I've written. And we love the DC representation ya know? Pandas!

I Can Take the Upper Hand and Touch Your Body

Truly the best smut I've ever written, hands down, and honestly, most days I can't even believe I actually wrote all that

How am I supposed to pick a fifth...??? Can Pirate Cassian and Single-Dad Cassian just tie? Is that allowed? I give up!

[wishcamper]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love

I love that this ask is going around! Thank you so much for sending it my way.

The Knight and his Witch

I think this one will always be my favorite. It's the first real story I've told start to finish. Is it perfect? No, but I'm proud of it, and I learned so much while writing it.

Knight Cassian and witch/princess Nesta. Who's the real monster? Is it the monsters that live in the woods, or is it society?

I fell in love with the fire long ago

(Are we noticing the theme here). This is my current baby, I will literally never shut up about it if given the chance to ramble. It's becoming the longest thing I've written, which is both fun and terrifying (long fic scares me)

Knight Cassian, princess Nesta. Plenty of angst and yearning. Some possible kidnapping. What more do you need?

Modern Nessian

This is technically a series of fics - all one shots set in the same universe. I love stepping back into this dynamic whenever inspiration strikes. It's so soft and cozy.

Tell Me to Leave

This is one of my older ones, but still one of my favorites. I wrote it in one sitting. How did I do that? Great question, I'm incapable of doing it again.

Soft, healing Nessian vibes. Basically Cassian makes spending time with Nesta after the war a priority.

The Next Chapter

A short one, but full of Nessian fluff, lumberjack Cassian, and bratty Nesta.

[wishcamper]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

So, I only have 6 published fics on AO3. You are making me leave one behind lol.

Troubles Brewing: Detective Cassian and consult Nesta the witch. This is just a one shot, but I loved the world and really want to work on a longer fic with this premise. (Complete)

A Court of Fallen Stars: My very first published fic. A fix-it of Silver Flames with the vibes of The Mummy. A quest for ancient magical objects and buried secrets. It is going to be incredibly lore heavy. I have so much planned for this. Because if Sarah isn't going to invest in her world building, then I am going to make it my own, (Ongoing)

Etched into Skin: The soulmate AU that nobody asked for but me. In a way it is a soft rewrite of MaF and WaR. It spans from their first meeting to the first solstice after the war. Nesta's journey through the four chapters was my favorite to write so far. (Complete)

That time I got reincarnated to save my mate's life: A webtoon inspired reincarnation fic the spawned from my desire to make Cassian suffer for his actions in Silver Flames but also give him the chance to be better. This will be a full rewrite of MaF and WaR with maybe a hint of FaS at the end. While fun this work has themes of Family, fate, regret, and childhood trauma. It is my "Make Cassian cry" fic. (Ongoing)

It's Such Good Parenting (and Politics) : A Nessian Swan Princess retelling. This one is so much fun. A political engagement, teenage stupidity, and a lurking evil bring these two together and possibly tear them apart. (Ongoing)

[wishcamper]

it's actually so funny how challenging it is to write bona fide graphic, horny smut. like people don't give smut writers enough credit. you are constantly running out of words to describe the same 2-4 body parts and same 4-6 motions. you are constantly attempting to do interesting and dynamic things in the prose with this extremely limited set of words. you are looking at your prose for the nastier bits and wondering if it actually sounds hot or if it just sounds goofy. you are then toning down your prose and then wondering if it now sounds tasteful or if it's just boring. you do ctrl+F for the word "cock" and there are 37 instances of it in the doc but you hate the 1-2 acceptable synonyms so there's nothing much you can do about it

[wishcamper]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

Oh thank you anon! I'm trying to give myself credit for more things recently, so I appreciate the opportunity to do so.

in no particular order:

smoke signals: my sweet disaster babies. i love writing cassian fucked up and boy is he fucked up in this. trauma, romance, family dynamics, all my favorite shit. i could go on indefinitely, kind of sad it has to end at some point.

Thicker Than Water: this one makes me laugh still, not to mention it pioneered the Amren/Cassian tag on ao3. and Nesta learning about Cassian's own slutty past gives me life.

i can picture it (after all these days): probably my most personal, true-to-life fic. i love it because it's a small story but it feels very rich, idk.

You Love When I Fall Apart: i'm a mating bond hater, and so it was fun to explore what it looks like to have it be a real obstacle for nessian. they can bring out both the best and worst in each other and I really like how it turned out.

A Court of Vice & Victors: my first child, my beautiful beast of an acosf rewrite. besides the satisfaction of fixing canon, it's been a really fun exercise in plotting long-term, worldbuilding, and tracking character arcs over time. and so many subplots. so. many. subplots. definitely the fic i've learned the most from, and while the early chapters make me cringe a little, it's fun to see my writing improve in real time.