#SJM crackship appreciation week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nikethestatue · 2 years

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Hello! I'm new here and I'm not sure if I'll be active. I just went here to ask something. I felt like I'm reading the whole series wrong or I missed something but I am sure of what I read. After finishing acosf, I was sure Elain will have the next book. I have a hint that her story will contain breaking of a mating bond, a choice, and her seer power and another unknown. I was excited how she and Az would face Koschei but at the same time I think Vassa will be the one to kill him. That was my whole thought. And truth be told, I am excited for Elain and Azriel. I went to fb and tiktok and also started looking for fanarts. Now, I appreciate crackships, but I was still surprised to see Gwyn and Azriel. I thought I missed something, and someone told me to read the extra chapter,but it only confirmed Elain and Azriel for me? And tho I think the scene with Gwyn and Az are there, it only reminds me of Cassian and Emerie. Nothing more. Someone also told me to read their theories, I did because I was so confused. How did it happen that a crackship, which is okay, became like a "true" ship?

I read Gwyn's heritage theory, her mating bond with Azriel, Elain's pliant bone, light and dark, and everything but I noticed one thing. Gwyn's a side character that was given too much importance by the fandom. It's okay but most of who she is is not who the fandom paint her to be. It didn't make any sense for me but I still tried to understand it since they said sjm confirmed Gwynriel. As far as I know, Gwyn was written to be Nesta's friend, her story was already told, and she somehow have this power I can't point yet but not really important for the whole acotar series plot? But somehow the whole acotar world revolve around her.

And it saddened me to see Elain haters. Like everywhere. They want her to be evil or get killed or raped or something. It kinda disappoint me that they see her as a boring one who do nothing. She's not my favorite, she's not even in my top five favorite but I think she's getting this massive kind of hate because Azriel has feelings for her while she's mated with Lucien. This is supposed to be an interesting plot but the fandom thinks it is too ugly. I also noticed the way everyone hated Azriel "lusting" over Elain, which I disagree since we see how he cares for her from Acomaf to acosf and the extra chapter just proved their feelings are mutual. They paint Az as someone who barely controls himself and would fuck Elain anytime he want, which is not true, but still ships him with Gwyn who is not ready to be with a man in the books? And don't get me wrong, but I thought Gwyn is a like a teenager or a child?

I think acotar fandom are so obsessed with the ships that they will ignore everything and ship Azriel with the first person who breathes the same air as him except Elain. I am more baffled to see Tamlin fans and shipping him with Elain, because, isn't he abusive? And I see people comparing Rhys and Tamlin. Haha I am still new but I am over acotar fandom already. I don't think I will last long here. I'm sorry to say but acotar fandom by far is one of the most toxic I've seen again after so many years. The series is good, not great but good, and the fans are too misogynistic and hateful and pro abusers. I've been told by a friend the fandom wasn't like this before Acosf but I guess I'm too unlucky not to witness it.

I reached to you because I saw you got reblogged by one of Gwynriel and I'm still like one week new in acotar fandom but honestly I am so relieved to see your blog. And also other Elriels. It felt like I wasn't alone and people see Elain's true capabilities and choices. I read the series correctly. So sorry for the long rant. Thank you!

Oh Anon,

I totally understand everything you've said. And I get it. Nothing you've said is incorrect and no, you DO read the books 'correctly'!!

You are clear and concise, but people in this fandom are so lost, so utterly confused, can't tell the difference between fanart/canon/and headcanons. There is no critical thinking--just nonsense from TikTok or Reddit. Like the other day, there was a huge post on Reddit 'proving' that Elain and Tamlin will end up together. And like--just 3 weeks ago, the author herself yet AGAIN said that Tamlin is an abuser. So how can you reason with people like that? There isn't a way to argue or have a logical conversation.

Canon's been lost a long, long time ago in a sea of (non)'theories', loud TikTokers and artists who add fuel to the fire to keep interest on them.

At the end of the day, nothing surprising or unexpected will happen. Elain and Azriel will be the couple. Elain will get her book. There will be bond related issues that they'll have to overcome. Lucien will end up with Vassa. And Gwyn will remain a character in the background for the duration of the series.

That's all there is to it. SJM will write an Elain book, just like she planned for years, and Elain will end up with Azriel.

And no one will care, in the end. Some will seethe and be all mad, but then it will pass and no one will remember the Gwynriel / Elriel shipwars.

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goforth-ladymidnight · 2 years

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An Impartial List of ACOTAR Character Appreciation Weeks 2022

I put this list together for those who want to support their favorite characters and ships, skip the ones they don’t, and revisit old favorites! Did I miss any? Let me know!

Gwynriel Week (Mar 6 - 12)

Gwyn Appreciation Week (Apr 17 - 23)

Elriel Month (May 2022)

Elucien Week (Jul 24 - 30)

Azriel Appreciation Week (Jul 31 - Aug 6)

Vassien Week (Aug 15 - 21)

Neris Week (Aug 28 - Sept 3)

Elain Archeron Appreciation Week (Sep 4 - 10)

Nessian Appreciation Week (Sep 11 - 17)

Azriel Shadowsinger Week (Sep 18 - 24) [Yes, there are two Azriel weeks!]

Lucien Appreciation Week (Sep 21 - 27)

Emerie Appreciation Week (Oct 2 - 8)

Cassian Week (Oct 10 - 17)

Tamlin Week (Oct 17 - 23)

SJM Crackship Week (Dec 11 - 17) [Was the 2022 event cancelled? I had it marked, then couldn’t find it again.]

Feyre Week (Dec 19 - 27) [Yes, it’s 9 days long.]

P.S. There’s still room in the 2022 calendar for any Rhysand or Feysand events if anyone wants to contribute. Are there any other characters or ships you’d like to see celebrated before the year ends? (Note: I’m not offering to mod any of these. I’m just putting this out there.) Have fun, everyone!

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #character appreciation week #calendar of events

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fireheartfaery · 3 years

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one bed fits three

day 1: favourite trope > there was only one bed//fenrowcan

when I first started writing this I expected it to be short and full of filth but it is neither of these things (I hope you won't be too disappointed) but I adore it so much. I love exploring dynamics between new ships and this one was truly delightful because...well you'll see.

I'm hoping if I post these at 5pm my time it'll cover all the time zones so it falls in the correct days for everyone but apologies if I'm a little too late or a little too early.

to miss Cass for always being my biggest hype person I love and adore and cherish you so much my dear <3

@sjmcrackshipweek

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“Lorcan,” Rowan’s powers are a whisper past his ear, there and gone in less than a second.

Lorcan Salvaterre pulls a blade from his breast pocket and flings it directly into the swirling mass of debri and disgust.

A streak of starlight-white blurs past him and jumps directly into the tornado before them.

“What is he doing?” He mutters, racing along the outskirts to try and pinpoint any weakness, any area he can freely and quickly exploit. Nothing stands out to him. Even his wisps of darkness are struggling to get past the blizzardous onslaught. He’s about to follow the white wolf’s lead and simply dive into the mess when he hears a single low growl.

With a grin at Rowan both of them palm pretty glinting blades and drive them straight into the whirlwind. They are met with goo and gut and a living being. He had begun to doubt they were fighting anything more than a determined wind. But no, around his obsidian blade he can feel contorting organs, blood sizzling on his hands. That’ll be a pain to clean up later. There is a moment of bated stillness and then the beast disintegrates before them. Lorcan’s tendrils of death suffocating the body through his blades. With a swipe of his hand, Rowan lets the wind— a cool and hurried breeze— disperse the dust around the world. It is no longer their problem.

In a flash of gold, Fenrys Moonbeam stands before them, hair matted to his forehead and a gleam in his pretty black eyes.

“It tasted disgusting.” He shudders, breaking their silence as they all stare at the charred spot of earth left behind.

“Really?” Rowan raises a brow, “I thought it’d taste delightful. Like a sorbet swirl.”

“Shut up—” Fenrys is retorting, already knocking against the white-haired male in retaliation.

Lorcan blurs them out of his focus as they trail along the worn path into the village. It had been a long and arduous week, filled with petty tasks such as getting rid of village monsters and razing small forgotten cities. He’d do almost anything to be home, in his own bed, his own space. One where he doesn’t have to keep his power throttled to his ribcage. One where he can watch his dark magic explore the room like curious snakes, knocking gently into everything as it finds out what this corner holds, where this crevice widens, why this box sits there. They are almost as animated as he used to be, back when he was young, fresh-faced, arrogant beyond reason.

“Oi Salvaterre,” He is yanked back into the world with a good shove on the back.

Glaring, he turns to Fenrys. “What?” Short, snappy and full of blunt-tired. Gods he really is a wreck today.

“You good to stay here?” Looking around he realises with mild surprise that they had made it to the outskirts of the village.

“Yea sure whatever,” He nods, giving the small two storey a quick once over. The roof looks like it keeps rain out and the windows close enough to keep wind seeking refuge elsewhere. There really isn’t much to complain about.

Rowan frowns at him but he just looks away, pretending to scope out the area. Might as well do some recon while their friend gets everything sorted with the rooms. Anything really, to distract himself from the forest gaze of his ex-boyfriend. No-one had ever been able to read him the way he does. A seconds look and the white-haired male can pinpoint every single thing wrong, right, and in between about him. When they were dating it used to be charming, and now it’s everything in Lorcan’s power to keep his face stoic, his movements precise. One blink too many and the worry from the hawk comes back in full force. What do you get when you never stop loving someone? Wounded.

“Okay,” Fenrys’ cheerful call comes from the door of the house. “We’re in. But there’s no food here so we’re gonna have to go into the village for that.”

Rowan is already walking towards the building muttering something about needing to shower first.

“Where’s my room keys?” Lorcan holds out a hand.

“Uh,” And the golden-haired man is looking at him in a way he knows all too well. Mischief and muddles painted brightly across his brown skin.

“What did you do?”

Rowan stops mid stair at the tone of his voice, and turns around slowly. Their eyes pierce into the wolf, waiting less than patiently.

“So, um,” Fenrys scratches the back of his neck.

“Spit it out.” He is preparing himself for the worst, body already thrumming into new symphonies.

“They sort of only had one room left and i had to book it because this is the only inn in the entire village and I didn't know what else to do but they reassured me we have the biggest room so we shouldn’t be completely smothering each other I'm sorry.”

For a breath they all stand very still, holding time in suspense as they process the situation they’ve been handed.

It would have felt less like a sabotage if it had been the beginning of this long journey, or if they had had more than four hours sleep in the last three days or if they had known beforehand that this would be the situation. But this is a jenga tower and someone has picked out the two blocks at the very base. Everything shakes, threatens to topple, with each round.

The white-haired male simply continues walking up the stairs. Lorcan blinks at Fenrys, cocks his head, blinks again. And walks up too.

There is no point in fighting. There is nothing any of them can do. There is nothing they want to do anyway.

***

Dinner is a warm affair. Shoved into a booth in the back of a small tavern. Warm bread, steaming soup, and a pitcher of ale laid out before them. He has never turned his nose down at a feast but hearth food, like this, designed to warm you from the inside and keep you comforted through the night is where his heart truly lies. Especially surrounded by people he loves. Thoughts he will keep to himself but he will think anyway.

The matter of the room is forgotten while they doll out cards and wager anything but money. Coins, as it turns out after centuries of living, are a dull and elementary means of compensation.

Instead Fenrys must secure a date with the man at the table over. Instead Lorcan must take his weapons off his person and if there’s more than five, he has to give one away. Instead Rowan must turn into a bird and hope not to get caught and cooked by the chef roaming the tables. Instead they must laugh. Instead them must sing. Instead they must dance, and if toes get stepped on well ‘why did you make me do this?’. Instead they must practice, like hand puppets with ghost hands, living and let live again. You go out to kill a monster, keep going, and at some stage you can't decipher if that means you. So you have to bring yourself back to the earth and the people and anything except the blood on your hands that never seems to be yours despite how much you have to give.

They settle their owings with little fanfare, and leave behind them friendly hollers and discarded weapons. The walk back is not far, and while they do it in little time it seems almost too long before they’re all crowded into their room staring at the bed before them.

Now that food sits warm in their bellies, and liquor warm in their veins it doesn’t seem so brutal. This sharing business. One bed. Three of them. They are the monkeys who won’t roll over. If they do, they'll be caught before they hit their heads. There’s always a corded arm, strong fingers there to catch them.

“I sleep on the end,” Rowan says, pointing to the side nearest the window. There isn’t a force in the world that could stop the smile tugging on Lorcan’s face. The whole world could rearrange itself and still fundamentals like Rowan needing the night air would not change.

“I sleep on the other end.” He raises a brow as he collapses on the side nearest the door.

“Wait wait wait,” Fenrys looks at them in alarm, beautiful glittering eyes blinking rapidly. “I love being the little spoon as much as the next person but I don't know if I want to be in between your broody ex-boyfriend asses.” His look of horror is enough to make Lorcan laugh, which sets off Rowan, as it’s always done, which makes Fenrys more horrified. They’re in a circle and it is becoming a sphere by the sheer force of joy bubbling between them.

“It’s worse when you laugh,” The golden-haired male is looking at them. “I would rather sleep on the roof.” He takes one step, two towards the window, before Rowan wraps a hand around his arm and pulls them both down to the bed. Laughter still courses through his throat, flipping against his tongue. He feels like the bread they’d eaten for dinner. Soft and fluffy and warm.

“You guys are plain evil.” Fenrys is grumbling.

“Sleep Fen,” He pokes at ribs, shoulders, legs. ‘We promise not to bite… unless you ask.”

“I’m not worried if you bite me!” Their friend is still full of comical horror, “I’m worried you’re gonna bite each other over me.”

“We would never be so rude.” He can hear Rowan’s grin in the dark. Voice like gravel instead of water.

“Shut up.” Is his finally mutter before they all settle into the surprisingly comfortable mattress and close their exhausted eyes.

***

Lorcan feels a hand on his thigh. It is warm, distinctly male. A thumb brushes against the fabric clad to him and he shudders softly. He knows this gesture. It’s one he’s felt a thousand times before. One he never thought he’d feel again. With struggle he opens his eyes, blinking in rapid succession to try adjust to the little light. The night is still fresh, ripe in the sky. The moon shows off her size and her glow, hanging in perfect balance against the inky blackness. It is her light he uses to make out the shapes and figures around him. He sits up a little, leaning on his elbow to try wake himself up. He had been in one of those deep sleeps, where nothing and no-one could have brought him to reality. Except this. Always this. He had often wondered if his body would forget the things that made it sing, with time, and distance. Well he has gotten his answer. Not even a century of years, and sprinkled decades of distance could make an amnesia out of him.

“You up?” A lighthouse in this sea of darkness. “I can’t believe that still wakes you.”

“Me neither.” He sighs, no strength to filter his thoughts, no strength to push the hand away. “Why did you wake me?”

“Look.’ He sees a silhouette nod towards the middle of their bed.

And gods what a sight it is. Gold hair fanning against stark white pillows. Brown skin shimmering in the pale moonlight. A face carved from the best artists in the universe. Perfection born, bred, laid here between them.

“Should he have been worried about us?” The hawk asks.

The question surprises Lorcan, enough that he looks up from the bed, searches for green eyes in this endless night. “I don’t know, maybe?”

It is quiet for a beat, two, three. “Does it matter?”

“Does what?” Because there are so many answers depending on the context. Did they matter? They were the only thing that ever did. Did their friend’s worry matter? Nothing would have happened without him knowing.

“You know everyone used to say ‘right person, wrong time’ when i told them about us.” Rowan’s voice is still soft, gentle in a way he reserves for the fire and the night.

“There is no such thing as a wrong time when we are immortal.” He replies, matching softness, but unable to match calmness. He is bitter to the core about the way the world weaved them. Unfinished tapestries left to rot under spider silk and dust. “When time doesn’t end, how do you tell what parts are right and what aren’t?”

Fenrys moves between them, curling into Lorcan’s back, grabbing ahold of Rowan’s shirt. His brow furrows briefly before smoothing out once more. It’s everything in Lorcan not to groan and bury his face in that supple neck.

“I guess you don’t.”

“We didn’t.”

“We couldn’t Lor.” Nickname that takes him a thousand years behind him, three seconds in front of him, chains him to this bed.

“We stopped trying.” He falls back onto the bed, arm giving out under him. Heart gave out moons ago. “That’s where we went wrong. We just stopped trying.”

Another bout of silence, suffocating only to his lungs. His body draws it in, lets it crash down his throat, sit against his stomach undigested.

“And now?” The question to end it all, the question that becomes the moment, and then the memory, and then the epitaph.

He looks to his side, sees Fenrys not even a nuzzle-distance away from him. Moves his gaze up to that ever-green tree. “Not without him. I can’t go back.”

“Who said it would be?”

Fenrys spreads his hand across Rowan’s chest in that moment and Rowan places his over it. “I would not be able to give him up.”

“Is he ours to give and take?”

“Well I am his,” Rowan brushes golden hair out of the wolf’s face, looks up at him. “And I am yours.”

“So we are each others?” The idea forms in his heart, changes the course of his veins, becomes a new and integral part of his organs.

“Yes.” The hawk looks at him, into him, with him.

“Yes we are.” A voice, embroidered with sleep adds to their discussion.

And the words that wrap around him start to feel like the first tendrils of a new galaxy. They are stars barrelling between every pocket of darkness. His power protecting the room almost shimmers with this new found knowledge.

“You are mine? Both of you?” He wants to hear these words in this air, in this room, in this lifetime.

“And we are yours,” Fenrys whispers gently.

Rowan takes his hand. “And we are each others.”

The village bell tower clangs as if to mark the moment out loud. With the reverberating sound they are surging towards each other. Lips on skin and hands on heart and heart laid bare and skin presented the same. Over and over, encased by sounds they will hear a thousand times more, by sights they will paint again on a thousand different canvases. Motions that resemble the sea, push and pull and give and take, and love and be loved.

Their final dance ends with a single note, symphony coming to its grand crescendo. In this room they accidentally shared on a mission they didn’t want to do in a time when restlessness thrummed amongst them as well as lightning does a storm.

mine and yours. ours.

#Rowan x Lorcan x fenrys #fenrowcan #Rowan Whitethorn #Fenrys moonbeam #lorcan salvaterre #fds fanfic #sjm crackship appreciation week #sjm crackship week #scaw #day 1 #crackship appreciation week

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aelingalathyniusrailme · 3 years

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Crackship appreciation week-day 4

headcannons

some malide headcannons for all you lovely’s who saw the romantic chemistry and were disappointed but not surprised when sjm gave us nothing

elide kissed manon first. she took her by surprise and she didn’t hesitate

manon takes elide on rides on abraxos and elide while she doesn’t have magic or the traits of the iron teeth witches she does hear the call of the wind. and flying means letting that suppressed part of her free

elide was the only one who could soften manon and taught her it’s ok to be vulnerable. and the only person manon has ever let be on top

manon is obsessed with elides clever mind while elide is obsessed with manons brutality and very turned on by her claws

they have this easiness between them, they are each other’s persons. they have this deep relationship where they don’t need words they know each other so well that they can read every eyebrow raise and smile

elide loves trying to find ways to surprise manon and manon thinks it’s cute

elide makes sure that manon stays calm when dealing with the daily struggles of being a queen of a combined people

elide paints manons claws.

while manorian has very rough sex malide sex is very soft and sweet. it’s a lot more sensual.

manon proposed to elide in the skies. she said yes they eloped

manon learned how to bake so she could make elide the most obnoxiously extravagant caked for her birthday

#crackship appreciation week #malide #manon blackbeak #elide lochan #manon x elide #headcanons

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fireheartfaery · 3 years

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the diamond family

day 7: free day > social media au// lorcan x amren

when I was planning out what to do for each day of this week I did not have any real idea of what to do for the last day but I figured I'd probably just write a fic. but but the time I had finished all the other days I didn't really want to write another fic and I was debating doing another moodboard but it just wasn't appealing to me. but then genius struck me! social media-esque au with one of my fave and most badass crackships: Amren x Lorcan. this is my first social media au type thing so please don't critic too harshly hehe okay enjoy!

more about the au under the cut but I hope you can gather enough of a story from these images alone <3

@sjmcrackshipweek

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gold diamond> I love you and im glad you're a with me.

red diamond> we are under attack

I just fucking love these two and they are the hottest couple alive for real. this was honestly so much fun to do and I'm totally debating adding more parts to this at some stage.

#amren x Lorcan #Lorcan x amren #crackships keep fandom alive #sjm crackship appreciation week #sjm crackship week #crackship appreciation week #scaw #day 7 #social media au #lorcan salvaterre #amren #lamren #that is the worst ship name I swear #fds moodboards #fds social aus

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fireheartfaery · 3 years

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recreate. recreate? recreate!

day 2: alternate universe > Percy Jackson// braelin

you know I considered putting them into a million different universes but ultimately decided combining my first love (pjo) and my forever love (tog) id have the best outcome. so I hope you enjoy some braelin in the Percy Jackson universe (well the Roman version anyway)

@sjmcrackshipweek

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Her bunk bed groans as she turns to her side, groans again as she turns back, and again as she flips over entirely.

“Would you stop moving!” A tired, annoyed voice whispers from underneath her.

Aelin stills immediately, muzzling the urge to scream into her pillow. No matter how hard she tries she cannot get comfortable.

The events from the night are racing through her mind, competing in olympics to win her gold medal of distress. Her getting claimed by Venus. A rare and honoured outcome. And Bryce. Bryce fucking Quinlan. Being claimed by Vulcan. Ugh she could tear her hair out at the very thought of it.

Aelin how should i do my eyeliner for the claiming? In a way that says ‘im cut-throat queen’ —more like cutthroat bitch— or in a more subtle ‘i’m coming for you legacy?’ sort of way?

Aelin what do you think would look better with this shade of ‘winning our bet?’ the black or the red? Nevermind i’ll wear the gold so you know i’ve beaten you.

Aelin do you think it’s better to go all out for my claiming ceremony or just have something small with a select group of friends?

She didn’t even know why Bryce had asked her the last one. She would never be a part of that “select group” anyway. Probably just to rub that fact in her face.

Ever since Bryce Quinlan had gotten to Camp Jupiter she had been after everything Aelin had built. Right off the bat she had shown enough godly power to be placed into the First Cohort and had immediately taken to the stupid elitist idea that they make every other cohort’s life completely miserable. To make matters worse, Bryce had specifically chosen Aelin as her little pet project of disaster.

Every quest, Bryce volunteered, and then spent the entire time riling her up or ignoring her. Every game was a competition even if they were on the same team. Every meal time was a chance to pester Aelin. It was never ending. Bryce was always in her face. Behind each corner. Under all her quiet moments.

It wasn’t to say she didn't fight back. Where Bryce had claws, Aelin had fangs. They were constantly tearing at each other. But it became exhausting. Like carrying a spear for too long. Always ready to attack, but muscles flexing so hard they shake.

Their little feud is legendary at camp. Spreading across dining halls and between dormitories. They’ve had witnesses to their slaughter on more than one occasion.

And now with their claiming confirmed and celebrated it’s going to be nothing short of a disaster. The Goddess of Love and Her Scorned Husband. It’s disgustingly poetic how this is all turning out to be.

“Aelin,” A whispered shout comes from below, ‘I swear to the gods if you move even one more time i’m going to staple you to your mattress.”

“Sorry Elena,” She mumbles, before sliding off the bed and falling less than gracefully to her feet on the cool wood floors. She hadn't even realized she was tossing and turning again.

“I’m just going to—” She waves her hand, already trailing off as she attempts to gather what she thinks she’ll need for her late night trip to her favourite spot.

“Whatever,” Elena is already turning away to go back to sleep. “Don’t let the ghosts see you. They’re the biggest tattle tales.”

Before she can even mutter a thanks her bunk-mate is asleep, breathing evened out into a quiet lull. Aelin would be jealous if she didn’t know it was as rare as any good night sleep she gets.

With the nightmares, and the constant night-challenges and quests, it’s almost unheard of that any of them get more than one or two proper sleeps in any given week. Just a couple nights previous, Elena and a few of the younger campers were out clearing the Little River Tiber of the oil spills that had washed in from the mortal world and polluting the naiads' home. They only finished the task yesterday afternoon.

With a quick glance at the immediate vicinity, and any potential threats, Aelin takes a deep breath and sprints for the forest.

If she cannot go to the city of New Rome and eat her weight in fresh pastries and sweet bread then she might as well take her hike to the top of Saturn’s Hill and stare at the moon. It is full tonight and provides ample light for her journey.

She catches the blue glow of their camp’s ghosts every now and then but there are enough hiding spots between her dorm and the forest that she makes herself invisible easily.

The dark hood over her golden blonde hair— her most discernible feature from far away— does a fairly good job of keeping her face concealed. She is mostly cloaked in shadows and comforting darkness. Although her favourite time of day is early morning, when the sun is just gilding the world, there is something so peaceful about the dead of the night. Noise is a foriegn concept. It almost feels as if it’s just her, the thrumming ground, and the brilliant stars. She is the center of the universe and the universe itself.

The forest comes into view and before she can stop herself she is sprinting the final distance, wind against her cheeks and sweet air filling her lungs.

Part of being a child of Venus is learning how things fit into their place in the world. People often overlook the idea of beauty and aesthetics, believe something is either pretty or not, in that regard. But that’s not really how it is.

The sky is just the sky until you’ve been staring at the ground so long you’ve forgotten what the colour blue looks like. Food is just food until your friend offers you the last bite of their chocolate cake and then it is a Moment and a Memory. A face is just face until you catch eyes in the sunlight, and cheeks in a blush, and lips in a kiss, and jaw in a caress, and frown in concentration. Beauty does not simply exist; it is created and then found and then appreciated. At least that’s how Aelin has always looked at the world, and how so many of her— well siblings now, she supposes, have seen it too. A million tiny components creating big artworks.

She is almost to the top of the hill when she finally pulls herself back into the world and its present. The air is cooler here, less crowded by warm campfires and free laughter, but no less refreshing. And the trees sway gently, as if dancing their final waltz before retiring from the ball for the evening.

She almost wants to stop and dance with them. Her feet already moving in time to a beat only they and she can hear.

But then a distinct human rustle sounds to her right, and before the trees can sway back her sword is in her hand and the hood of her cloak is pushed off off off.

Her blue eyes gleam as they narrow to the space the sounds came from.

“Come out or i come in.” She says low, controlled.

There’s a heavy familiar sigh and then long, brown legs step out from behind a stilled tree trunk. And there in all her fire-bright glory is Bryce Quinlan.

“What are you doing here?” She growls, tucking the sword away and crossing her arms in annoyance.

“I wanted to know where our little prodigy runs off to in the middle of the night.” She smiles so sweetly and it makes Aelin want to give up sugar.

“It was actually none of your business Quinlan.” She clenches her jaw, counting down from one hundred in her head. The starting number increases or decreases depending on how much she needs to calm herself down. It’s never been below one hundred when it comes to Bryce. “Go away.”

“How are you feeling after the claiming?” As usual Aelin is ignored. “Everyone has been congratulating me. I’m almost sick of the words ‘Wow Bryce you’re—’”

“STOP!” The shout bounces off the wind, crashing through the space between them like demolition. “I don’t want to hear it, Quinlan. I don’t care. Do you hear me?” She glares, knows her eyes are almost gold with how bright they glisten. “I. Do. Not. Care.”

There’s a single suspended second of silence, something disturbingly close to hurt flashing across Bryce’s face, and then a sneer graces her beautiful features.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Aelin splutters, brain buffering in 120p. Her problem? HER problem?

“All i was doing was asking how you were and you just go and lash out at me?” She is carrying on, oblivious to the inner turmoil the Daughter of Venus is going through. ‘You know you always do this?” She’s snapping. “I try to ask how you are? What happened? Where you’re going? And you just bite at me. It’s been like that since day one.”

“Don’t act like you care.” Aelin has found her words and they are poisonous. “Don’t act like you’ve ever actually cared about the answers. You just use them as fuel to annoy and insult me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You have never been kind to me. And every kindness i have tried to show you has been met with ridicule and scorn.”

Bryce scoffs, amber eyes turning all sorts of fire shades in her disbelief, her anger. “You being kind to me?”

“Yes Quinlan.” Her voice is hard. Truth galvanizing it into an intricate iron sculpture. “I have tried to be nice to you. I even tried to just leave you alone when that didn’t work. But you are always hounding me. Pulling at my hair like five years olds in the sandpit.”

“You tried your best not to pay attention to me.” The Daughter of Vulcan stares at her. Harsh voice now shaking. “For so long i tried to be your friend and you just kept ignoring me. Eventually i found people who did actually want to spend time with me.”

“Be my friend?” Aelin feels almost hysterical. “What? You thought adding dish soap to my water and changing my spear heads for sponges was being my friend? Dipping my hair into the fire wall and adding crickets to my morning oats? Claiming my victories on quests and asking people to sign a petition to have piano playing removed from the dining hall when i was the only one that ever played? All of that was you trying to be my friend?”

“I was trying to get your precious attention!” Bryce yells.

It makes her stumble back, hard enough that her back hits the boulder she hadn’t remembered was behind her.

The silence that engulfs them is burning. An inferno of unchecked emotion. Bonfire out of control.

“I was trying to get you to notice me.” Quiet, so quiet the wind can barely carry it. “You were so calm and cool and collected. You knew everything about this world. And i was this little kid with too much blood on her hands and not enough soap in the world to get them clean. I wanted to be like you.” She takes a shuddering breath, and somehow Aelin feels it in her own rattling lungs. “And that changed to wanting to be with you but by then you hated me and i couldn’t stand that fact so i hated you too.”

“You could have just asked.” Five simple words, that could change an entire past, will rewrite an entire future, suspends the fragile present. “Not once did you ask to be my friend.”

“I couldn’t bear the idea of you saying no.”

They both fall to the ground hard, unable to process the weight of these heavy years on their feet.

“We ended up like our parents didn't we?” Bryce whispers softly. “Not giving each other a chance before saying no.”

“Do you think that’s how it always is?” Aelin frowns up at her, tears spilling over her cheeks. “Every demigod just keeps rewriting their parents’ stories?”

“Gods i hope not.” The red-haired girl casts her gaze to the sky, moonlight streaking her wine strands to make scarlett. “I hope we can be better than them.”

“What if we can’t?” Blue eyes have dried, but fear of recreating the past in every future rings through her voice. “Look what happened to us. Without even realising it we became the characters in the story of Aphrodite and Hephaestus”

“We have to try. And keep trying. Especially when we fail.”

The quiet, piercing and loud, but full of resolve weaves between them once more. They are as far apart as they were when they sat down but something about the distance no longer seems so cold and frightening, so….. distant.

“No more fighting?” Aelin looks up tentatively. Amber eyes are already on her.

“No more.” Bryce Quinlan nods and it is full of finality.

A small hopeful smile tugs at their lips. The wind changes direction. The moon shines a little brighter.

Here, the past starts to mend itself. Here, in this cool forest on Saturn Hill, the future rewrites one word at a time. Here, at Camp Jupiter, the Daughter of Venus and the Daughter of Vulcan change their present.

#Braelin #Bryce Quinlan x Aelin Ashryver #Bryce Quinlan/Aelin Ashryver #bryce quinlan #aelin ashryver whitethorn galathynius #Aelin Ashryver Galathynius #bryce x aelin #sjm crackship appreciation week #sjm crackship week #crackships keep fandom alive #scaw #day 2 #crackship appreciation week #fds fanfic

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fireheartfaery · 3 years

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songs I associate with crackships

day 6: song association

it's no surprise that I use music a lot when I'm writing. especially when im writing violence or smut so allocating songs to different ships was not a difficult task. there would be more if tumblr didn't have an audio clip limit of 10. but I hope y'all enjoy what is essentially a mini playlist

@sjmcrackshipweek

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Manon x Aelin: genghis khan by miike snow

Fenrys x Hunt: there's no way by lauv and julia michaels

Bryce x Aelin: as you need by alex aiono

Rowan x Lorcan: chicken tendies by clinton kane

Fenrys x Lorcan x Rowan: love back (piano version) by gabrielle aplin

Fenrys x Asterin: breathless by shayne ward

Aedion x Azriel: if I could by brynn cartelli

Rhysand x Dorian: serotonin by santino le saint and cruz cafuné

Rhysand x Rowan: secondhand heart by ben haenow and kelly clarkson

Rowan x Dorian: wild by john legend and gary clark jr.

#sjm crackship week #SJM crackship appreciation week #scaw #crackships keep fandom alive #day 6 #maelin #Fensterin #moonthalar #Braelin #Rowcan #rhysian #rowsand #rorian #I had more cracks and songs but tumbles has an audio limit so😔#Spotify #crackship appreciation week

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fireheartfaery · 3 years

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escaping towards me

day 5: favourite crackship > maelin

what do I say except, please have my beloveds. oh I adore maelin more than I could ever express they just have it all and in another time line, another universe, I just know tog ended with them being canon.

@sjmcrackshipweek

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Within these words, trailing along lines, skirting around paragraphs, lies the story of a queen and a witch.

In the beginning it is not clear who is the witch and who is the queen. Not even to them.

Maybe that is the point of it all? Maybe they are not so different. Maybe one must read on to find out.

——————————————————————

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius has but one duty in her life. One sole purpose for being born. One sole reason she would die for. Protect her people.

This is an ancient story. A story ignited in her bloodline. One her father had passed on, her mother had seen through. One the crown had bled for and will bleed for again.

So why is she currently staring at the backpack she had stuffed into the deepest darkest most dust filled parts of her closet, hands twi/tch\ing to reach for it, full moon bright as if ready to guide her. Why is her only thought: escaping?

This is your duty, she can hear her father's soft voice. This is your place, she can hear her mother's firm resolve.

It is tattooed onto her ribcage in small neat writing. "the crown is your destiny and your denouement.”

The wind lifts her hair, sets it down, lifts her whole body and she is gone g/o/n/e gooooooonnnnneeeeee.

Destiny be damned. Destined to be damned.

•••

Manon Blackbeak Crochan has been trained for one thing and one thing only. Protect her people. Before she could talk she was learning to fight. Before she could stand she was learning to bite. If you can rip them apart with your teeth Manon, her grandmother grins, there is nothing they can do to you.

She knows the sound of Blackbeak blood by the way they breathe in her presence. She knows the look of Crochans by the way they glance at one another. She is the center of them and the protection around them. A radius and it's circumference all at once.

She can hear her calling even as she stands on the stone balcony overlooking sloping hills. She must simply run her hand along her collarbone and feel the glistening stones to remember the depth of her promise. One stone for every year she has kept them safe.

The wind howls at her feet, yanking her cloak off her skin, wants to cloak itself. She taps her foot once and it is in time to her grandmother's counsel. “Onus.” It has the same deafening amount of syllables as “burden”

The cloak unclasps around her throat.

She re a c h e s for it.

And with her hand the rest of her goes.

Onus forgotten. Onus to forget.

—————————————————————

This is a story that begins in the middle, ends at the beginning, and concaves the start.

This is a story about finding and being found.

This story cannot be told twice. For you only get one chance to escape.

#maelin #Manon blackbeak x Aelin Ashryver Galathynius #Manon blackbeak/ Aelin Ashryver #sjm crackship appreciation week #sjm crackship week #crackships keep fandom alive #scaw #day 5 #manon blackbeak #aelin ashryver whithethorn galathynius #Aelin Ashryver Galathynius #crackship appreciation week #fds drabbles

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