reckless romantic 🦋

I’m so tired of this GA argument. It is taken out of context so much and it is so frustrating to see how it has evolved into a in indomitable monster that has fueled a crackship and turned it into cult.

Here is my take on the four key pieces of Azriel’s bonus chapter that GAs have latched onto like a leech feasting on fresh blood.

We’ll start when Azriel lands at the training ring after the fight with Rhys, then move onto the supposed “the shadows sing for Gwyn” part, and end with spark in his chest and the reaction of Azriel’s though of Gwyn smiling at receiving the necklace.

At the end, I’ll throw in what we know about lightsingers in here too because of how I believe it relates and justifies how and why Azriel is feeling and thinking these things without realizing it.

 One thing I think gets lost in these “ ship” discussions is the difference between a passing detail and narrative emphasis.

Authors don't spend pages on something by accident.

Elain rescue scene

the truth teller scene

Azriel carrying Elain over the threshold to then take her into the Garden

Azriel figures out Elain is a seer

Azriel taking the potatoes from Elain and making sure everyone waited for her before starting dinner.

The headache medicine soltice gift scene

Etc.

When a story slows down, lingers on imagery, dedicates multiple paragraphs to describing an interaction, has other characters comment on it, ties it to symbolism, and then makes that moment pivotal to the plot—that's the narrative telling you to pay attention.

Azriel giving Elain Truth-Teller wasn't a throwaway moment.

Feyre literally pauses to describe it like a painting. The scene is given weight, imagery, and emotional significance. Then Elain uses that same knife to kill the King of Hybern, one of the defining moments that ends the war.

That's how stories create meaning.

So yes, I struggle when fandom turns a one-line interaction, a glance, or someone lifting an eyebrow into "proof" while simultaneously dismissing entire scenes that the narrative itself put under a spotlight.

Bone

Bloom

Like the second half of the Book of Breathings sang:

Life and death and rebirth

Sun and moon and dark

Rot and bloom and bone

•

Love me, touch me, sing me.

•

And as Feyre concluded, this was Chaos. The force the Princes of Hel would never defile with violence.

My little Elriel 🦇🌸

just look

at

all

this

YEARNINGGGGGGG

Months had passed, and life, relentlessly and practically, had filled the space where something fragile had once tried to bloom. Azriel had thrown himself into duty, helping Cassian train the priestesses, spending long hours at the House of Wind, where discipline and purpose could drown out everything else. Elain heard of it only in fragments, in passing remarks not meant for her, and she started to quietly and stubbornly make herself smaller around his absence.

On a mild afternoon in Velaris, the middle Archeron sister kept her head down as she moved through the busy streets. She had a basket looped over her arm which was half filled with herbs and carefully chosen seed packets. The city glowed in soft sunlight, but a cool breeze announced the first touches of a dying summer. Elain pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders, more for comfort than pure necessity, while drifting from stall to shop with quiet purpose. She paused here and there, her fingers often gently brushing the displayed goods, exchanging soft words with merchants, before wandering toward a row of smaller storefronts where books and fabrics spilled into the street.

It was the fabrics that caught her attention this time, their rich colors draped in numerous colours, as well as gold threaded silks and soft rose linens. Elain slowed, drawn in by them thinking about which fabric Feyre would love or which colour Mor would look spectacular in. Her gaze lifted to the open glass shop door they belonged to. Inside stood a female, strong grounded and totally in her element and Elain tilted her head to the side. Her sight whispered that it was Emerie and flashes of her training alongside Nesta pushed themselves into her periphery. As quickly as they had emerged, they disappeared again and let the seer stay in the present. Elain watched her for a moment, noting the ease in her posture and the quiet confidence and smiled in envy at the strong female who had found a place in this world. As she was about to turn away her attention snagged on a low sound she would have recognized in a screaming crowd.

Azriel.

Her breath caught as her eyes found him inside, standing near a red-haired priestess. They stood close together, speaking easily, as though the space between them required no effort at all. Azriel murmured something she couldn’t hear, and the female leaned in with quiet interest. Emerie laughed at something that was said and then Elain heard her sister’s voice and Elain froze like a deer in the headlight. Nesta emerged from a changing room, holding some leather pants in her hand, chatting easily with the group. And Elain… Elain remained motionless outside, watching a world she did not belong to. It wasn’t jealousy that struck her, not really, but something quieter and heavier. It was the realization that there were parts of their lives she would never be part of. She just didn’t belong.

She tore her gaze away slowly and turned to leave not being able to bear the reality of her situation. She pulled her oversized hood up slowly, shadowing her face, and began to walk measured and calm steps to put distance between herself and the store. She swallowed and schooled herself to blend into the background and not let her emotions surge to the surface but the bell above the shop door chimed and Elain heard voices spilling out behind her. Panic rose, sharp and immediate. She could hear them now; Nesta’s voice and a female’s lighter tone and she gritted her teeth, pushing her emotions down as they stirred restlessly.

Elain took a deep breath and let her hidden magic brush outward and veneered to the closest refuge: an old bookshop just ahead. She pushed the door open and she stepped inside letting the scent of aged paper wrap around her. Elain fought the urge to turn around and look to see whether her sister and the Shadowsinger had already passed. She paused just beyond the threshold, breathing once and twice to steady herself before smoothing her expression into something gentle. By the time the shopkeeper looked up, she was already smiling. “Good afternoon,” she said softly, as if nothing had happened at all and no one could have guessed her inner turmoil.

Azriel was standing inside Emerie’s shop, and he had not intended to linger. He had shadow walked Nesta and Gwyn there at their request and faded, as he always did, into the edges of the room while they spoke. He was only half listening to their chit chatting when it hit him soft and unmistakable: jasmine and honey. Elain. Every instinct in him snapped taut, and his shadows reacted before he could stop them, darting out beneath the door, chasing the scent with a hunger he could not contain. They returned in a rush, a chaotic chorus flooding his mind: outside, she’s here, just beyond and he was already moving before thought could intervene. Just one look, that was all he needed, he desperately wanted to see her face again, but Nesta’s voice stopped him. “We’ll head out with you” and he forced himself to wait, every second stretching thin as his shadows pressed restlessly toward the door.

The moment they were finally finished, he stepped into the sunlight and there she was. Just ahead, lifting her hood over her head, but the briefest glimpse of Elain’s face was enough to send his heart slamming hard against his ribs. Azriel recognised her instantly, even as the hood fell and hid her from the outside world. He watched her walk away with careful calm and his shadows surged after her, desperate to follow but they struck something solid and unseen, and recoiled violently, hissing loudly. It was a magic barrier, deliberate and unyielding which she had risen like a quiet wall between them. His shadows lashed against it, hissing like an angry serpent and desperately searching for a way through, but there was none. As she slipped into the bookshop and the door closed behind her, she was cut off completely from his sight.

You mean my BREAD AND BUTTER??

It truly baffles me when the Eluciens are like "ALL of SJMs couples hate each other and then fall in love it's enemies to lovers"

LIKE I SOMEHOW WOULDN'T RECOGNIZE A TROPE THAT PRACTICALLY RAISED ME?

I have been an avid enthusiast of enemies to lovers since I learned to consume media in all forms. Not even joking, I was out here shipping Zuko & Katara from SEASON 1. I was out here contributing to the epic literary works belonging to the Dramione ship.

I love this trope. In all flavors, and time periods, and universes. Whether it's Elizabeth Bennett and Darcy, or Jude & Cardan, or Kate & Anthony, Damon and Elena--

I. Love. It.

So for that entire side of the fandom to say "oh HEUEHEUE Elriels are so dumb they don't recognize it's SJM's classic enemies to lovers trope"

GENUINELY WHAT ARE THEY ON?

Because the fuck you mean I don't recognize it?? I have recognized this trope from a singular first line - nay - a first GLANCE.

Because enemies to lovers starts with chemistry. It starts with that sense that something is significant. Like a little bell making you sit straighter and pay attention. It feels all consuming even from a GLANCE. It is burning passion. The floor, the looks, the barbs, the banter - it's all lava.

What Elain & Lucien have is room temperature, tepid water.

I would describe their interactions as a plate I left on the counter and avoid eye contact with instead of just putting it into the dishwasher.

(Idk why I went with that analogy but just... bear with me ok, yk what I meant 😔)

It's NOT enemies to lovers. It's nothing. It is two people who do not want each other but are forced to say awkward hi hellos over and over for the sake of being proper, until they die.

Wow. What a romance.

It's not that Elriels don't recognize enemies to lovers. It's that Elucien DOESNT CLASSIFY as enemies to lovers. They're missing like the literal only requirement:

Because ignoring tf out of each other isn't being enemies or hating one another. It's that... Ignoring each other, being uncomfortable around each other for years.

They never wanted to admit Elain resented Lucien for being directly associated with the man that kidnapped and turned her and Nesta against their will. They insisted she was SO head over heels for him and just needed to "stop being a brat" and then romance would develop.

And then SJM came in with a chainsaw and said the bond was like forced marriage and that Lucien threw her into the Cauldron and they still refuse to listen to reason.

• Elain who is a bright light in the sea of darkness. Who has time and again been referred to as light

• Azriel barely had a taste of light before it was snatched away from him again

Two thoughts:

1. Silver Flames should’ve been two books. Parts 1 and 2 were amazing, part 3 was still solid, but part 4 felt insanely rushed. Literally all the major events (the Blood Rite, Feyre’s pregnancy, Briallyn) happened back-to-back with barely any depth or breathing room. It’s sad because the setup was so strong.

But that eye symbol? That changes things completely.

You cannot convince me that it doesn't mean anything. There's just no way that the team at Juniper Books randomly selected this eye for the symbol of ACOTAR6 with no significance.

Genuinely ask yourself, who else could this possibly hint towards? Cause only a handful of characters have any links to eyes, but only one makes sense.

Elain = She's a seer with unexplored powers and someone that SJM has constantly discussed as a future MC.

Lucien = Has only 1 eye, sure, but SJM said it was obvious who the next book would be about and this guy has barely gotten any attention from her.

Jurian = Was nothing but an eye once. Not a priority character currently.