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I saw a list of someone’s book boyfriends and, no joke, it was Rhysand, Rowan, Cassian, Josh from lights out, Xaden. I also saw a post that Rowan’s punch doesnt count 😜 ha ha so funny!
There is something seriously wrong with romantasy fanatics like I am begging you to understand that:
Yes these men are fictional
their terrible behaviour is permitted by characters and writers who don’t ever acknowledge they’re terrible men
Young/impressionable people read this and think that these sorts of relationships are fine that your partner can treat you this way
The bulk of these “relationships” are based on lust alone, no solid friendship or foundation
Why would you fucking want a single relationship like that?!?!
I laugh with my husband every single day. Our marriage is built on being each others best friends, communicating and having fun together. How many of these dream book boyfriends even like their damn partner? Take away the end of the world drama and lust, can they cook dinner together? Can they spend a boring weekend together and actually talk?
Raise your standards!!!
This is why you also share TikToks about your shitty husbands who do nothing around the house and leave you to manage everything
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Summary: The night of Starfall stirs an unexpected (very expected) heat in a newly mated Azriel when Gwyn shares a dance with another.
WC: 1.2k
Written for Day 2: Tropes of @gwynrielweeksofficial!
Hope you all enjoy :)
The bright glow of the night sky illuminated every arch and balcony of the House of Wind. Even with every lantern extinguished, the shimmer of Starfall’s ribbons left no room for darkness or shadow. Decorations spilled like liquid glass across the air, the night delicate and luminous and achingly beautiful.
And yet, even against the splendor of Starfall’s light, no star shone brighter than Gwyn.
She moved easily through the room in a dark blue gown that trailed just slightly on the floor behind her, sheer, light sleeves whispering against her arms. Starlight caught on every inch of the fabric, illuminating her as if she were part of the night sky itself. Her neckline dipped just below her collarbone, and with her hair pinned up, the long, elegant lines of her neck were bared and unguarded. Azriel couldn’t look at her for long without feeling heat crawl up his spine.
He had attended hundreds of these nights before, each one bleeding into the next. A parade of music, light, and politely empty conversation. He’d endured it all while secretly dreaming of one day having his mate beside him, to watch the beauty of the sky’s display. And now she was here. And she was his. It was the happiest he’d ever been.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” Cassian stated, coming to stand next to him against the wall.
“What are you on about?” Azriel replied, a teasing edge to his tone, although he never took his eyes off Gwyn as she spoke to Nesta with an animated sweep of her hands.
“I mean, look at you. You’re smiling so wide I’m shocked your lips don’t burst. Usually, you sulk through this and bolt the second you get the chance.”
Azriel let out a slow sigh before turning to look at Cassian. Unsurprisingly, his eyes were also fixed on the same spot, watching his own mate engaged in conversation. “It’s a beautiful holiday, brother.”
Yes, they had truly become two pathetically lovesick males. First, it was Rhys, and Azriel thought back to when he and Cassian used to tease him about his lovestruck expression. How the tables had turned.
He only looked away for a moment, but when his gaze returned, Gwyn and Nesta were no longer alone. A tall, golden-skinned male stood with them now, dressed in flowing silks that shimmered with every movement. The High Lord of the Day Court. Helion’s easy, brilliant smile made Nesta smirk at something he said before his gaze shifted to Gwyn.
Azriel wasn’t intimidated by Helion. Not in the slightest. And it wasn’t as if Helion was a threat; he would never do anything to Gwyn, or try anything with a mated female. If anything, he would make some outrageous invitation to both him and Gwyn to his bed for the night.
Still, something sharp twisted low in Azriel’s gut, an ache that had very little to do with logic. His shadows curled tighter around his shoulders, restless. The bond inside him twisted hard, flaring with a burst of possessiveness that sent him pulse into a flurry. It increased tenfold when he saw Helion take Gwyn’s hand and lead her to the middle of the dance floor.
Azriel’s jaw locked, the smile quickly fading from his face.
“Keep a lid on it, brother,” Cassian warned from beside him. Azriel had forgotten about his brother’s presence next to him.
“I’m fine,” Azriel gritted out, the words coming out far harsher than he intended.
“Tell that to your Siphons,” Cassian replied, amusement curling in his tone.
His siphons had, in fact, taken on a small glow, painting the corner of the House he was watching from in dark blue.
Helion turned to face Gwyn in the center of the floor, taking her other hand in his. Every muscle in Azriel’s body tensed at their closeness. And when Helion’s palm slid to the small of her back, guiding her into the first step of the slow dance, Azriel was unable to suppress a snarl from ripping from his lips.
“Easy there, tiger.” Cassian laughed. “Helion is our friend, yes?”
Azriel didn’t respond, keeping his eyes locked on the dance floor, on Helion’s hand as it rested on Gwyn’s back.
Cassian muttered something again, although Azriel didn’t care to listen too closely. Likely a plea for Azriel not to make a scene, that it was just a dance.
“Need I remind you of a Solstice dance last year between Nesta and Eris Vanserra?” Azriel retorted, not sparing Cassian a look as he kept his eyes on Helion’s hands. “Was that just a dance?”
“That was very different.” Cassian countered without hesitation. “That was Eris.”
“Right.”
The more primal and basic side of his mating bond dared Helion’s hand to wander, to give him an excuse to pummel the High Lord into the ground. Azriel could take him; he was sure of that. It would be worth it, too, he figured, to keep any other male from Gwyn.
His shadows curled tighter, restless and agitated, their whispers sharpening into a single, unanimous urge: Go. And deep in his chest, his Siphons pulsed in time with the mating bond’s demand. Protect. Claim. Keep.
Helion leaned in to murmur something to Gwyn, and whatever he said drew a small laugh from her, soft and warm. Azriel felt it jostle his chest like a blow to the ribs.
Gwyn’s hand shifted in Helion’s grasp, and Azriel’s fingers twitched at his sides. His shadows were a dark halo now, curling low and sinuous around his boots, agitated enough that Cassian swore under his breath.
“Az,” Cassian murmured, once again, that warning note back in his tone.
He ignored it, and instead, his eyes tracked every turn, every step, memorizing the distance between their bodies, the angle of Helion’s palm, the dip of Gwyn’s smile.
The music swelled once more, then tapered into a soft final note. Helion bowed, all gleaming charm and golden smiles, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of Gwyn’s hand before releasing her. Azriel’s shadows hissed at the gesture. He didn’t move, but his eyes followed every motion. She parted from Helion and began to make her way towards him, a chatising smile on her face. When she reached him, her cheeks were flushed from the dance, teal eyes bright under the spill of starlight.
“Azriel,” she started, tilting her head, “plotting murder over here?”
“Maybe,” he said, unable to stop the softening of his expression when she reached for his hand. Cassian snickered from next to him.
“Helion is very nice. Funny.” Gwyn laughed, moving in to hug him, nestling herself into his side.
“Careful, Gwyn,” Cassian said, outright laughing now, “Before Azriel starts a war with Day.”
“Ah,” Gwyn said, “jealous much, shadowsinger?”
“I am not jealous,” Azriel replied, though even he could hear how unconvincing it sounded.
“Well, if you were,” she said breezily, “I’d think it was cute. Just saying.”
Heat crept up the back of his neck, betraying him entirely. “I’m a better dancer than him,” he muttered.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Gwyn said with mock sympathy, her lips curling into the most infuriatingly endearing pout.
He looked down at the floor, trying to hide the blush coloring his cheeks.
“Don’t worry, my love. You’re still my favorite dance partner,” Gwyn cooed, brushing her hand along his jaw.
His eyes snapped to hers, the lovesick feeling from earlier swelling again in his chest. Out of the corner of his vision, he noted Helion watching them discreetly.
Azriel’s mouth curved into something that was almost a challenge. “Helion’s looking this way. Come, mate, dance with me.”
Ever since I heard about the idea of Azriel having a monstrous or demonic side because he's a Shadowsinger, I've been coming up with a whole story around it. I've been thinking, what if this monstrous side isn't something in his biology but something that happened to him recently? (As y’all can see him clutching his chest, which is partially covered in something disgustingly dark) Let me know if you're interested in hearing about my fun story!
A possessed Shadowsinger vs a very pissed of Priestess? Yeah.
I also found these old sketches. I‘m really invested in this story I imagined, so I hope to get the time to make it come to life one day. I have to study perspective more though..
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The reason fat cadavers are not accepted for medical programmes is that you need to cut through every layer of fat carefully. Which takes time, and lab sessions are inherentely limited in that. It's better for med students to spend that time looking at what organs actually look like in bodies. This isn't fatphobia, it's just .. the way dissecting bodies works? In the same way surgeries on fat people take longer because there's just physically more tissue. The alternative would be to force the med students who get fatter cadavers to do more lab sessions at weird times outside of the usual schedules. Or force them to stay over the holidays. Or not let them get enough time to do the lab work they need to. Which imo would be a bit fucked up especially when med school is already so difficult and time-consuming.
It’s fatphobia. Fat bodies absolutely need to be studied. To ignore an entire demographic of oppressed individuals in the medical field for the sake of convenience(?!) is violence. Did you even read the article? They called working on fat cadavers “unpleasant.” It’s fatphobia and it’s unacceptable.
The internal organs aren't the end-all be-all of medicine, even for surgeons. It is still incredibly important for med students to learn about the skin and adipose layers. The point of doing these dissection exercises isn't just to give med students a chance to poke around human guts. It is to familiarize themselves with every part of the body. I only got one semester into a nursing career that didn't work out, but in that one semester I took an Anatomy & Physiology course and we did do an animal dissection and the very first thing we spent time on was the skin layer.
Not only is the practice of dissection meant to familiarize med students with every part of the body, it's meant to give them a chance to see real human bodies. Because what you see in anatomical diagrams in text books isn't normal. Bodies aren't mass manufactured, they do not all look the same, and the practice of examining cadavers gives med students real world experience seeing different ways bodies can vary.
Purposefully rejecting a certain body type is actively detrimental to their education. When institutions refuse to teach their students how to work on certain bodies, the industry then treats those people as "difficult to work with" because they don't know how to. You see it all the time in more low-stakes industries as well — fashion institutes not teaching how to dress fat bodies, leading to designers who think creating plus size clothes is too hard; beauty schools not teaching how to work with Black hair, leading to hairdressers who think Black hair is uniquely difficult to work with rather than just a texture that requires a slightly different technique.
How much extra time are we talking here? Because Anon you make it sound like it can take HOURS, if not DAYS. And yet I, a certified Superfat, had surgery on the fattest part of my belly a couple of years ago, and the whole procedure took 90 minutes. And that, of course, included the time it took to put me to sleep and controlling the bleeding, all things that a med student working on a cadaver doesn't have to worry about.
The alternative to med students using fat cadavers is doctors working on living patients who do not have the skills to care properly for their fat patients. Which leads to them either refusing to treat those patients, or to them getting hands-on experience on living patients, instead of on a cadaver, which is the whole point of med students working on cadavers.
So, Anon, what you're arguing here, is that it's far more important and humane to save med students an extra (let's be generous) hour in lab time, than it is for fat patients to have a doctor who's willing to help them and has experience working on bodies like theirs, and therefore is less likely to cause them harm in the process.
Over and over, the argument being made, which I'm expected to agree is purely objective, logical, and unbiased is:
It doesn't matter if fat people die.
These are all arguments I've actually heard, and all by people claiming that they don't hate fat people, that they aren't fatphobic, that their argument is just common sense, and everybody knows it:
"If EpiPens aren't made with needles long enough to work on fat bodies, fat people with allergies should just lose weight." - It doesn't matter if fat people die.
"Fat people are a financial burden on the healthcare system. The NHS is wasting money on making ambulances that can accommodate fat people." - It doesn't matter if fat people die.
"The reason firefighters shouldn't have to save fat people from burning buildings is because they aren't easy to carry out, and firefighters can get injured in the process." - It doesn't matter if fat people die.
"Covid is actually a good thing because it's mostly only killing fat people." - It doesn't matter if fat people die.
"The reason so many doctors have patient BMI limits on who they will perform surgery on, treat, or even agree to have an appointment with, is because it's too hard to treat fat people." - It doesn't matter if fat people die.
And now: "The reason fat bodies aren't studied is because dissecting their cadavers is inconvenient."
It doesn't matter if fat people die.
There is nothing that's not more important than fat people's lives. Convenience, money, time, comfort, ease - nothing. Because fat people aren't important at all. We are expendable. We're actually not even something that gets cut because we were never being accounted for to begin with. We are worthless.
It doesn't matter if we die. Actually, if we all died it would be convenient. A bonus.
This isn't fatphobia, "it's just...the way it works?"
#It's so wild how often fatphobia is this extreme and yet always coming from someone who consideres themselves completely impartial#The most common fatphobic argument being expressed is literally that it doesn't matter if fat people die.#It is that extreme and yet so commonplace that it's entirely casual and most people don't even blink. Don't think anything of it all.#And I'm just expected to not be in a constant state of seething rage over it like how do you expect me to be normal in this world?#How do you expect me to stay sane? When literally even the most casually fatphobic people in the world can't understand why#fat people shouldn't have to die to save money or time or effort?
"How do you think Gwyn would feel if she knew Azriel had sexual fantasies about Elain?, that he saved her and gave her TT"
Babes. You do realize you’re describing... a normal person with a past?
Like, welcome to adulthood?
E/riel fandom’s obsession with purity culture is WILD.
You seriously think that if a character has ever had sexual thoughts or feelings for someone, it disqualifies them from ending up with someone else later? Are y’all okay?
Have you met humans?Let’s run with this logic for a second:Feyre had sex with Tamlin. She loved him. She was emotionally and physically into him. But plot twist she still ended up with Rhysand.So what was the point of Tamlin? To show growth. To set up her story because that is real life. To set up the real love story.
You know .... plot.Now suddenly Azriel thinking Elain should be his endgame once upon a Solstice because of forced symmetry means he can’t fall in love with anyone else in the future? Cry me a river
You do realize everything Azriel did for Elain the gift-giving, the saving, the silent brooding obsession he’s already done before.
With Mor. Only deeper. Longer. And with actual emotional feelings not surface level like He has with Elain. He literally was ready to die for her.
The man was emotionally crippled for centuries over Mor, but sure, tell me again how Gwyn would crumble upon learning he once fantasized about Elain during a horny Christmas.
Also, are we gonna ask how Elain would feel about Azriel’s 500-year pining for Mor? Or does that not fit the narrative?
If every ship is only valid if the characters were born in a romantic vacuum with zero past desires, then congrats, everyone’s sunk.
You’ve reduced relationships to some tradwife fantasy where the first person you kiss must be your soulmate or else it’s invalid. This isn’t alpha romance wattpad sweetie.
It’s 2025. People are allowed to have feelings, grow out of them, and fall in love again. If your ship can’t handle that reality, then maybe it’s not the epic love story you thought it was.
You know if we are going down the umm actually road technically Elain didn't kill the King of Hybern either.
Nesta looked down at the king before she made the final
pass, his hands still trying to rise, to claw the blade free.
This was him after Elain stabbed him with TT and stepped back. He was trying to push out the blade from his body which would imply he wasn't DEAD dead the way that side says.
And then she pushed the blade, like a worker heaving the
spoke of a mighty, grinding wheel.
The king’s eyes flared—then his head tumbled off his
shoulders
So the kill count that elriels love to say even though they don't like women who would wield weapons is actually 0.
And honestly Elain going back to baking is not the iconic behavior you think of. Poor girl wanted a sense of familiarity after all that trauma so she went to what she's most familiar or comfortable with. Just like Gwyn
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