#azriel supremacy

[sapaul]

All I know is that in 7 months we finally get to find out the freak that Azriel truly is

[silver-flames-of-dusk]

Something I've been thinking about

The healers in ToG were hunted to near-extinction because they were a threat to the Valg.

The thunderbirds in CC were hunted to near-extinction because they were a threat to the Asteri.

We know shadowsingers in ACOTAR are rare, but it makes me wonder if they were hunted to near-extinction because they were a threat to the Daglan.

[rosabelle-lives-inthewoods]

I realised why many Gwynriels disagree with the elriel version of the Lightsinger theory.

Hey, this is my first Tumblr post, though I have been in fandom on FB for a long time. And for my first post I'd like to discuss my favourite theory to talk about: The Lightsinger theory..

I saw this post on Tumblr and realized why the LS is widely disagreed by the gwynriels

I’m going to mention directly the text in this post, quoting the original text so nothing is misrepresented. (Also used this post because I feel like it sums up the elriel version of the LS very well)

> "When elriels mention Gwyn as a LS even if they disclaim that its not to paint Gwyn as an evil villainess, antis take it to personal offence because it disproves their ship. If she is a LS, it proves the shadows singing back and the one that danced with her breath, didnt do so because it knew Gwyn is Azriels mate but that they where compelled to do so."

This is a false cause fallacy. You’re assuming that if Gwyn were a Lightsinger, every interaction Az’s shadows had with her must be “compulsion” rather than a genuine response. The problem is, the shadows have reacted in similar ways to multiple characters -Feyre and they recognized Koschei, even the Cauldron’s song so it means that **Gwyn is stronger that the cauldron and koschei** which seems OOC even for SJM imo, and also without anyone deciding those characters are secretly Lightsingers. If your theory works only by treating one example as unique while ignoring identical patterns elsewhere, it’s not a strong theory.

But also it feels icky to me because **all** of Azriel actions and reactions to Gwyn are "compelling" implying that Azriel didn't want to feel or do those things but Gwyn made him not erasing her from the narrative but vilifying her and putting her in a place that feels a lot like internalized misogyny even if done unknowingly but also dimishes Azriel's power and strength because it paints him as a helpless creature who can't identify being manipulated when he could easily identify the cauldron and koschei...

> "It means Gwynriel no longer parallels (never did in the first place) other endgame couples meaning the spark and glow Az felt was due to power not a mating bond like Gwynriels claim."

Three issues here. First, “no longer parallels” assumes the only valid romantic trajectory is a direct parallel to other endgame couples, which isn’t supported by the series SJM has never made those parallels a requirement. Second, you’ve reduced Azriel’s emotional response to nothing but magical influence, stripping him of all agency. That’s not canon; that’s headcanon being used to override character choice. Third, it dismisses other people's parallels.

> "They can only do that by acknowledging the fact she is a potential lightsinger… Lightsingers are the compatible companions of shadowsingers (not true) it is where the whole light x shadow aesthetic comes from for Gwynriel."

This!! I saw a lot of arguments like, “Azriel has shadows and he sings, so he’s a Shadowsinger — so why can’t Gwyn, who glows and sings, be a Lightsinger?” Right? But then, when Gwynriel shippers who actually agree with the Lightsinger theory consider them compatible, some people turn around and say, “Yeah, no, they’re not.” Which is completely contradictory to the very foundation the theory is built on.

> "So they only believe the LS theory whenever it is convenient for them. And they’ll use the theory to hate elriels whenever it suits them. They’re fickle and inconsistent which checks out."

This! As well. because this exact version of the LS theory is itself selectively applied it’s only brought up when it serves the purpose of dismissing Gwynriel. The selective use goes both ways, and in this case, the inconsistency is in ignoring other shadow reactions that would logically also need to be called “compulsion” if the theory were consistent.

Final point:

The version of the LS theory in this post is built on selective evidence, removes character agency, and leans heavily on non-canon “rules” invented for aesthetic purposes which I find in majority of the elriel based LS hence I choose this as a base. It doesn’t actually disprove Gwynriel it just reframes Gwyn in a way that’s both narratively unconvincing and inconsistent with canon in my opinion and also feels a lot like internalized misogyny.

[leilousblog]

I know it doesn’t perfectly fits but still… I think the second part of BLUE by Billie Eillish kinda applies to our Shadowsinger:

You were born bluer than a butterfly

Beautiful and so deprived of oxygen

Colder than your father's eyes

He never learned to sympathize with anyone

(…)

Don't hate you (don't hate you)

But we can't save you

You were born reaching for your mother's hands

Victim of your father's plans to rule the world

Too afraid to step outside

Paranoid and petrified of what you've heard

————

Anyone ? Or I’m just overreaching?

[leilousblog]

Elriel vibes 🥀🦇

[leilousblog]

Imagine Elain wandering through a little nursery in Velaris, buying herbs and blooms, when a kind older illyrian female starts chatting with her. She gives her gardening advice, talks about her son, how he keeps bringing her rare seeds from the continent, always asking what they mean, how to grow them… saving them for someone special who loves gardening but never went to the continent. She gives Elain a knowing look. Elain just smiles, flustered. It’s not until hours later, lounging in the sitting room that it clicks : she looked a lot like Azriel. 🥹

[theswordwrites]

but daddy i love him (part two, bedroom eyes like a remedy)

Summary: In the glittering decadence of the Hewn City, you're expected to play your part—dutiful daughter, perfect noble, soon-to-be wife. But everything shatters the night you stumble into fate: a mating bond with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court.

Warnings: angst!

Word Count: 1398 tag list: @bookandtealover @tele86 @sour-patxch @willowpains @ladyescapism @oldernotwiser26

The weeks passed, and the aching in your chest only worsened.

Gnawing, incessant, cruel. The bond pulled on every rib, every muscle, with every beat of your heart. Like a phantom touch you couldn’t escape.

You had heard the stories—rumors whispered between wine glasses and behind closed doors—of what happened to those who denied the mating bond. The slow descent into madness. The way it festered, like rot in the soul. You hadn’t believed it, not really.

But now, you knew.

Sleep had become a stranger. You tossed and turned, caught somewhere between longing and fury, your thoughts always returning to him. Azriel. His name a curse and a comfort in equal measure.

You spent your days looking into shadowed corners, your mind conjuring up hallucinations in your peripheral vision.

He had been so infuriatingly beautiful in the moonlight. Eyes unreadable, voice quiet, kind. Not soft, no, there was too much power in him for that. But steady. Steady in a way that felt like safety. Every word from his lips had been a promise. And worse, you believed him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at your fiancé without bile rising in your throat. Not that he noticed. He rarely looked at you at all, too busy indulging whatever courtesan had caught his eye this week.

You didn’t feel guilty. How could you, when there had never been anything real between you?

He sat across the table now, three glasses of fae wine in and wearing it clearly. His arm slung carelessly over the back of his chair, his attention fixed on the conversation—and the pretty serving girl lingering nearby.

Your father sat beside him, murmuring with another colleague, their words low and meaningless.

There was no love at this table. No connection. No trust.

Just obligation and performance. Masks and shadows.

You wondered what dinners would be like with Azriel. With his family.

Would they welcome you? Pull you close and call you theirs?

You didn’t know. You didn’t know him, not really, and certainly not your High Lord or the rest of his Inner Circle.

But that bond still pulsed in your chest, steady and sure as your heartbeat. Undeniable.

You pushed your chair back abruptly, fists clenched at your sides. You needed a moment to take a breath, still your mind. You needed to go anywhere but here.

“I—I need to go,” you stammered. “I don’t feel well. My apologies.”

Your face flushed, humiliated by your own lack of decorum, but no one stopped you.

With the most graceful nod you could muster, you slipped away from the table, your pace quickening down the hall and to your door.

Your heart thundered. Your chest ached.

And Azriel was waiting in your room.

Shadows clung to him like a second skin, and his eyes moved slowly over your shelves—your books, your things, your life. He turned at the sound of the door, shadows retreating just slightly, gaze raking over you like he hadn’t seen you in years.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, breathless from more than the walk.

“I had to see you,” he said quietly.

His voice was rough, too rough for a casual visit. His eyes didn’t just look at you— they devoured.

“Why?” you asked, throat tight.

“I can feel you,” he murmured, voice hushed like he didn’t want to admit it—even to himself. “Through the bond. I can feel you, and I… I had to see you. Had to know if you were alright.”

The words struck something deep inside you, cracked it open. Like he’d peeled you back without permission, exposed something you hadn’t even realized was hidden.

The idea that he could feel you, your dread, your restlessness, your ache, was dizzying.

Violating. Comforting. A contradiction you didn’t know how to name.

“Oh,” you breathed.

It was all you could manage. Azriel didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just looked at you like you were a question he didn’t know how to answer.

Like he wanted to answer.

“I felt you leave the table,” he added softly. “It was like someone pulled a thread in my chest. And when you started to panic—”

He cut himself off, jaw flexing. “I didn’t know what they’d done to you. I just knew you needed to breathe.”

You swallowed hard, hands twisting in your skirts. “I’m okay. I-It was just a dinner,” you managed to say.

Azriel took a step forward and your breath caught.

Another step, and you moved back, just slightly. Barely an inch, but it was enough. His eyes tracked the motion, dark and unreadable, catching the flicker of retreat. You wanted him closer—Gods, you ached for it—but the moment he moved, something in you flinched. You were engaged. Your fiancé and your family were just down the hall.

This was dangerous. Reckless.

And yet, your body betrayed you—frozen between fight and surrender, between duty and desire.

“I’m not going to touch you,” he said gently, like he didn’t want to startle you. “Not unless you ask me to.”

That should have comforted you. It didn’t. It only made the space between you feel heavier. Charged.

He took another step.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, voice quieter now, more shadow than sound. “Why are you shaking?”

You didn’t know. Or maybe you did and couldn’t admit it.

Because he was here. Because he saw you. Because part of you had dreamed of this and hated yourself for it.

Because standing this close to him made the bond hum like a live wire beneath your skin.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” you whispered.

Azriel stilled. His shadows curled tighter around him, like they, too, were waiting.

“I don’t know what to do with this.”

His gaze dropped to your chest, where your hand had unconsciously drifted to where that invisible bond thrummed steady beneath your palm.

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he said, voice rough with restraint. “Just say the word.”

“No,” you said, the words falling from your lips without a thought, “You don’t have to go.”

Azriel’s gaze stayed locked on yours, the air thick and heavy between you. His steps were slow, deliberate. Closer, until you could feel the brush of his breath, the quiet hum of his shadows like a pulse against your skin.

And still, he didn’t touch you. Didn’t dare.

But you did.

Your fingers moved before you could stop them, reaching out, curling around the worn leather of his gloved hand. The contact was slight, fleeting, but it lit through you like fire catching dry tinder. His breath hitched. His eyes—Mother above, those eyes—darkened to something almost unbearable.

The bond roared to life, uncoiling inside you with greedy satisfaction.

Like a held breath finally released.

Azriel’s throat bobbed, his jaw working as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. His other hand rose slowly, so slowly, toward your cheek—hesitating just inches away, waiting for permission he didn’t need to ask for.

You wanted to lean into it. You almost did.

But your breath caught, sharp and strangled, and everything came crashing back.

The weight of your family. The ring on your finger. The man waiting down the hall.

You jerked back like you’d been burned, releasing his hand as though it had scalded you. Your chest heaved, panic crowding your throat.

“I—I can’t do this,” you choked. Your voice broke on the last word. You shook your head hard, backing away from him as if distance could muffle the bond clawing at your ribs. “I shouldn’t.”

Azriel’s expression shattered with raw, unguarded pain flashing across his face before his mask slammed back into place. His shadows curled tighter, as if to shield him from the blow you’d just dealt.

“I understand,” he rasped, voice rough. “I understand.”

A sharp, sudden knock cracked through the room. You both froze.

“Darling?” Your fiancé’s voice, slurred faintly from wine, slipped under the door. “You’ve been gone too long.” A pause. “Are you alright?”

Azriel didn’t move, but his shadows lifted slightly, ready to make a quick escape.

You swallowed hard, smoothing your skirts with shaking hands.

“I’m fine,” you called back, forcing steadiness into your tone. “I’ll be right there.”

By the time you turned back to Azriel—he was gone. Only a lingering curl of shadow remained, dissolving into nothing.

And the hollow in your chest felt cavernous.

[harperbrynne]

With all the massive ACOTAR books showing up in places, I wonder if it’s a hint for the next installment.

*pauses dramatically*

I think it’s about time we ask ourselves who has the biggest wingspan.