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#there was a Lot to Unpack here!!
mayasaura · 2 years
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Everyone thinks Nona is Alecto but I think the fact it seems so obvious she is Alecto is proof she isn’t. Tamsyn muir wrote this. Also pyhrra met Alecto and if Alecto and Nona were weird in the same ways I think she would have mentioned. Also, side question: ianthe as a lyctor has babs eyes, mercymorn and augustine have their cavs eyes, John has Alectos eyes and Alecto has johns eyes, g1deon has pyrrhas eyes when he’s in control and Pyrrha has g1deons eyes when she’s in control, Camilla has Palamedes’ eyes when she’s in control and Palamedes has Camillas. But Harrow as a lyctor has her own eyes and when gideon takes over she has her own eyes. What?
I'm personally leaning toward Nona being Alecto, but I'm open to being surprised. I don't think "we guessed it so it must be wrong" is any more reliable as an assumption than "we guessed it so it must be right". The story doesn't do random plot twists with no groundwork. It makes sense, and builds logically on itself by connecting what seemed like minor mysteries and details into a larger picture. Tamsyn Muir is very very clever, but she's not completely inscrutable. I've scruted her before.
Pyrrha did know Alecto, but unless the Sixth has broken Gideon's confidence, Pyrrha doesn't know that the Tomb is opened. And no one in their makeshift family knows that Alecto has been haunting Harrow. They don't have all the pieces that make it seem obvious to us, and honestly I don't think Pyrrha is trying very hard. In the breakfast scene Nona says that Palamedes would accuse Pyrrha of skewing the data by deliberately making ass jokes to make Nona laugh, and that's the only interaction Pyrrha has with the deduction process at all. While she obviously cares about them, Pyrrha doesn't seem to be invested in the same goals as the Sixth. She and Palamedes have different baggage about souls inhabiting bodies not their own, Pyrrha's baggage could easily push her in the direction of refusing to see the problem. Her endgame is to take all three of them with her to a hidden moon with arable soil and make a life there. She sees a future with Nona, exactly as she is.
As to the eye stuff, yeah. What the fuck? Pyrrha said that her necromancer "took more from [her]" than Harrow took from Gideon, and Ianthe's eyes were changing back and forth while Naberius fought her. Harrow's eyes had just started to change when she cut Gideon out of her brain, and she didn't have access to most of the neat tricks that come with having vored your special someone's soul, so presumably Harrow stopped the process before it reached the stage of integration that triggers the eye change.
What's very interesting is how Gideon does get access to the perks (and then some!) of lyctorhood when she surfaces in Harrow's body, but without any further integration of their souls. Her eyes still don't change. Whatever is fueling Nona's body, whatever lyctoral connection Gideon and Harrow have, it's different from any other connection we've seen.
There are some interesting parallels to Anastasia's attempt. John said that the "right way" she discovered was slower, and more methodical. Harrow held the process back as long as she could. It took her two days to get as far as her eyes changing, a step that seems to have taken Ianthe about twenty minutes. John also said that Anastasia got it wrong because she "panicked midway through" and "hadn't got his soul inside her all the way". Harrow also stopped midway through, and it sounds like she never fully integrated with Gideon's soul. And somehow, it eventually still worked. It makes me wonder if, had John not interrupted her, Anastasia's second thoughts might have led her to discover a entirely new way to be a lyctor.
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platoapproved · 3 days
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— Do you want to hear my story? — Yes.
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hyakunana · 4 days
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"My friend, my partner… my Guardian."
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buttl0rd · 6 months
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competitive shitting who's gonna win
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wombywoo · 10 days
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album 📔
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 5 months
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Turtle Takedown Teamwork.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#lan wangji#tulu xuanwu#Something about changing the action sequence to something gentle is hilarious to me.#The lesson here is “Be nice to turtles. They are gentle creatures. And many are very endangered.”#don't get me wrong here; I love this scene a lot. LWJ's string technique is one of my favoyrite things.#We do get a fair amount of LWJ fighting but I always loved how the theme of strings comes into play.#There is actually a lot to unpack with LWJ being associate with 'strings'.#The musicianship: Of dedication and rigor in one's practice.#The tension between following along a path or composing your own way forwards (playing what has been written vs composing)#A string is a tightly coiled/taunt entity; The same tension that makes it sing so beautifully can be it's downfall if pushed too hard.#And as a non-musical string - something that binds. Be it to his sect and family or how he binds his fate to WWX -#LWJ cannot exist without his binds. It is not something which ties him down though. It keeps him together.#And he himself *is* a bind. He 'ties wwx down' in ways that are initially negatively viewed ('come to gusu' - feels like: come be trapped)#But later it is shown how (despite being introduced as a free spirit) WWX truly wants to be bound to something and someone.#Marriage is a bind he wants. He wants to be tied and grounded by LWJ.#It's starting to sound like innuendo. Let's call his fondness for being literally tied up smart thematic writing.#Finally. Sex scenes that are important to the plot and characters
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seasononesam · 27 days
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supernatural meme: (7/9) scenes | 4x22 “Lucifer Rising”
No, you sound like your dad. Well, let me tell you something. Your dad was a coward. My dad was a lot of things, Bobby, but a coward? He'd rather push Sam away than reach out to him. Well, that don't strike me as brave. You are a better man than your daddy ever was. So you do both of us a favor. Don't be him.
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romansmartini · 6 months
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can we hold hands and listen to this together
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stil-lindigo · 7 months
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While reading this interview with a West Bank settler, it's important to remember her views do not represent those of all Israelis just like Israel does not represent all Jews. There has been sizeable protest in Tel Aviv against the genocide (quickly squashed under Netanyahu’s police force just like all other pro-palestinian sentiment) but it’s worth reading to get insight into the minds of average people who cheer on Palestinian deaths, and draw up a chair to watch hellfire rain down on innocents. This is the impact of years of settler-colonial propaganda - a complete dehumanisation of a scapegoat population.
It also has to be said that ALL colonialist countries are complicit in encouraging this kind of extremism, by facilitating and stoking the fires of islamophobia post-9/11. Israel is not an outlier - this kind of sentiment is festering EVERYWHERE and attempting to detach yourself and your country's identity from it is like burying your head in the sand.
If you stand on the side of Palestinians in this crisis, you have to be prepared to recognise the signs of islamophobia and fascism everywhere, and stand against them.
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98chao · 1 year
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suffering from demotivation so heres a dump of doodles/shitposts/unfinished art thats been collecting dust in my art folder from the span of a week to a year ago
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acecroft · 7 months
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🍫🧸
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undying-love · 3 months
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Paul being very secure about his sexuality: A compilation
"The reason why we didn’t do Up Against It wasn’t because it was too far out or anything. We didn’t do it because it was gay. We weren’t gay and really that was all there was to it. It was quite simple, really. Brian was gay…and so he and the gay crowd could appreciate it. Now, it wasn’t that we were anti-gay – just that we, The Beatles, weren’t gay."
“It was always obvious Brian was gay and we could talk to him about gay things, but he would never come out with, ‘Hello, Paul, you’re looking nice today.’ I was quite obviously un-gay, due to my hunting of the female hordes. I think we all gave that impression."
Q:  You must be very secure with yourself.
Paul: I think it is that. I'm OK with gay people, too, because I'm essentially comfortable with my sexuality. I can goof around with gay people. I sort of know who I am by now.  And it's about time.
"I imagine he heard it [Dear Friend]. I think he listened to my records, but he never responded directly. That wasn't his way. We were guys; it wasn't like a boy and a girl. In those days you didn't release much emotion with each other."
"One thing he told us was that one in every four men is homosexual. So we looked at the group! One in every four! It literally meant one of us is gay. Oh, fucking hell, it’s not me, is it? We had a lot of soul-searching to do over that little one."
"There's a song I do called Here Today which is specifically written for John. That sometimes catches me out. I realise I'm telling this man that I love him and it's like I'm publicly declaring this in front of all these people I don't know. I sometimes wonder what I'm doing.
Q: In “Here Today”, you talk about your love for John. Did you ever say that to him, in those days?" Paul: No. I'm sure we both felt it. But that is not something two boys use to say to each other. If they were gay, maybe. Otherwise it is rare that that happens."
"My view is that these things are there whether you want them or not, in your interior. You don't call up dreams, they happen, often the exact opposite of what you want. You can be heterosexual and be having a homosexual dream and wake up, and think, 'Shit, am I gay?' I like that you don't have control over it. But there is some control -- it is you dreaming, it is your mind it's all happening in."
"We were in New York before he [George] went to Los Angeles to die, and they were silly but important to me. And, I think, important to him. We were sitting there, and I was holding his hand, and it occurred to me — I’ve never told this — I don’t want to hold George’s hand. You don’t hold your mate’s hands. I mean, we didn’t anyway. "
"Yeah, I think he [John] did [love me], yeah. It wasn’t actually a spiky relationship at all. It was, uh, very warm, very close and very loving, I think. All The Beatles. We used to say, I think we were amongst the first sort of men to come out openly – and you remember, it was quite sort of strange in those days, we’re talking about a long time ago now when homosexuality was still sort of largely illegal."
"Because he [Robert Faser] was gay, it raised a few small-minded eyebrows, and funnily enough, one or two of them were from within the Beatles: ‘Hey, man, he’s gay, what you going off to Paris with him for? They’re gonna talk, you know. Tongues are going to wag.’ I said, ‘I know tongues are going to wag, but tough shit.’ I was secure about my sexuality. I always felt this is is fine. I can hang with whoever I want and it didn’t worry me. I mean, we didn’t share a room or anything."
"With Robert’s thing of course there would be gayness. But there was no open gayness. If there was to be gayness it would be a quiet phone call that Robert would go and take in the bedroom or something. That was one of the good things, actually, because I knew he was gay and he knew I wasn’t gay so we were quite safe in our own | sexuality. We could talk to each other. "
Lastly, there is this odd anecdote that may or may not mean anything, but here it is:
One of the strangest of these incidents came at the end of 1992 when Mark Featherstone-Witty attended the MPL Christmas lunch. Mark took an accountant friend to the meal, a McCartney fan he'd known for years, which led to a strange and unpleasant row. By Mark's recollection, Paul's manager Richard Ogden summoned him into the MPL office the next day where he read him the riot act for bringing an unwelcome guest to Paul's party. 'What do you mean by bringing someone who was so obviously gay to Paul's Christmas party? Have you any idea about the responsibility you carry in this project?' he allegedly asked. 'What are you talking about?' replied Featherstone-Witty, explaining who his friend was. 'But he was gay, you stupid fucker!' 'No, he isn't.' 'You've got to be careful. You can't do anything that would embarrass Paul...'"
Fab : An intimate Life of Paul McCartney by Howard Sounes
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self-aware-sawtrap · 1 month
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so my peter strahm headcanon (strap in folks) is that his least favorite film of all time is holiday classic “how the grinch stole christmas.” this is mostly out of bitterness because when he was younger he enjoyed the film in a way similar to how certain men enjoy “fight club.” this is to say, he completely overlooked all of the grinch’s character flaws and did not understand that the film was very much Anti Grinch. like he watched this film and interpreted it as a tragedy in which the central character, the only normal character in the story, eventually succumbs to societal pressure to conform to ideals such as empathy and Not being a dick. this illusion was shattered when his now ex-wife pointed out the subtle anti-grinch messaging of the film, finally causing him to realize that a: perhaps his similarities to the titular character had caused some blindness to the grinch’s character flaws, and b: he and his wife needed a divorce.
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cunning-pope · 1 month
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there's something deeply and sharply depressing about clicking on the icon of a tumblrite who posts intriguing, beautiful art, and seeing that their pinned post reads "FUCK OFF TERFS DNI"
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feyreswaterybowels · 2 months
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⭒The Silent One⭒
#4 Azriel x Fem!OC
⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒
Word Count: 4.3k
Summary: Cassandra visits Vale. They get the information they need and Cassandra…gets revenge and we see a glimpse of her powers lurking under the surface.
Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence. mentioned/implied rape. mentioned/implied castration. female rage. protective!azriel. protective!bat boys.
Authors Note: All likes, comments and reblogs are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! Bold italics are mental communication, regular italics are inner thoughts.
⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆
“What’s going on?” Cassandra asked, looking at Rhysand then Azriel. 
“Is everything okay?” Morrigan asks, setting her bags down, Cassandra following suit. 
“We tried to question Vale today,” Rhysand responded, straightening out his suit jacket. Glancing at Azriel, who still wore that look of pure death. 
“Tried?” Morrigan asks, her own arms folding across her chest. 
Rhysand took in a deep breath, looking at Cassandra, a slight frown on his face. 
“He said he’ll only answer our questions if you’re in the room—” 
“No.” Morrigan cuts him off immediately, straightening her spine.
“Mor,” Rhysand warns. 
“You’re actually considering it? You would let her be in a room with that—that monster,” She snarled, stepping closer to her friend’s side.
Cassanda’s eyes met Azriel’s again, less intense as if to comfort her but his shadows still a fury around him.
“He wouldn’t get anywhere near her. It’s not your decision, Morrigan,” Rhysand said, mouth in a tight line. 
“It’s not yours either, it’s Cassandra’s,” Azriel said, “He doesn’t have to touch her to cause more trauma. You do not have to see him if you don’t want to.” 
“But it would be a great help to easily get the information from him,” Rhysand said, giving his brother a warning look. 
Cassandra chewed on her bottom lip. Morrigan was still standing partially in front of her, legs spread apart, arms crossed as if she would fight Rhysand if he tried to step towards her. Rhysand had an expecting look on his face and Cassian looked…awkward? Maybe he didn’t like his friends arguing this way. Cassandra knew she didn’t. 
“What would I do, just stand there? Would I—would I have to talk to him?” She asked, and Rhys shook his head. 
“No, of course not and yes you would just be there in the room,” Rhysand answers and Azriel hisses. 
“That is not the full truth,” He says, siphons surging on the back of his hands, shadows darting in every direction. 
“Azriel—”
“Tell me, Rhysand, please. I can handle it. I want to help but I have to know what I’m getting into,” She said, straightening herself out, stepping from behind Morrigan. How could she expect them to believe she could handle things if she stayed cowering behind Morrigan or Azriel? She could do this.
Azriel fixed her with a look, as if he was proud of her actions. 
“He initially asked for Neema. She shut that down quickly. He then specifically asked for you because he…wants to look at you,” Rhysand explains and Cassandra felt her stomach flip, nausea overcoming her. 
“I can get the answers we need in other ways without traumatizing her further,” Azriel growls at his brother, noticing her distress, “Cassandra, you don’t have to—”
“Look at me,” She repeated breathlessly. Blinking her eyes furiously to fight the images trying to flash before her. “That’s what he used to do. He couldn’t touch me because I would be damaged goods—he’d get less money for me. So he would make me stand there unclothed and look at me while he touched himself or Neema. Just let me look at you is what he would say.” 
She heard the harsh breath Rhysand let out, she didn’t look his way. 
“Cassandra,” It’s Azriel’s voice in her head but she shakes her head, breathing deeply.
In. Out.
In. Out.
In. Out. 
She opens her eyes and looks into those hazel ones, patients and concern swirling there. 
“You’ll be there?” She asked, and he nodded instantly. 
“Of course, I’ll be there,” He answers.  She nods to herself. Thinking. 
“What happens to him after he’s questioned?” She ask, would he be let go? Locked away?
“He’ll be killed,” Rhysand answers bluntly. 
“Good.” Is her answer. “I’ll do it.” 
“You’re sure?” Azriel asks, worry creasing those brows while a relieved look comes over Rhysand’s face. 
“Yes,” She answered. “When?” 
“The sooner the better,” Rhysand said, and though he still looked relieved that Cassandra agreed she could see the apology in those violet eyes. 
“I would like to put my things away first,” She said, Azriel crossing the short distance between them. 
“I’ll help you bring your bags up,” He offered, giving her no room to protest before he scooped her bags up easily. 
As they entered the house she could hear Mor as she began yelling at Rhysand. 
Azriel let her lead the way to her bedroom, she was getting fairly good at navigating the halls. She liked to roam around in the middle of the night when everyone else was sleeping. This house was huge but she was sure she could get to the main areas of the house with little to no help. 
When they got to her room she pushed the door open and walked in. She looked over her shoulder to see Azriel standing at the door. She raised an eyebrow in question and the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. 
“I can’t come in, remember,” He says, and she was glad to see some of that light amusement return to his eyes. 
“Oh, well, come in,” she said, he looked skeptical for a moment before slowly extending his leg through the doorway before stepping fully in. 
“Rhys doesn’t mess around with his wards,” He says when he notices the look on her face. “If you hadn’t invited me in and I tried to just walk in I would have ricochet off it straight into the wall back there.” 
Cassandra let out a breathy laugh, gesturing to the bed for Azriel to put the bags down. 
“Did you have a good day with Mor?” He asked gently and she turned to him with a small smile and nodded. She was grateful he asked. Talking about the day would distract her from what they were going to do after this. 
“It was amazing, Azriel! I've never experienced anything like that. It was a bit overwhelming if I’m honest but Morrigan made it easy to enjoy myself,” She smiled again as he perched himself on the end of the bed, his attention focused fully on her. She grabbed one of the bags pulling it over—the one with all of the pastries in it. 
“We went to this lovely little bakery,” she started, pulling out various treats. “Morrigan told me to pick out anything I wanted—everything looked and smelled so good, it was hard to choose.”
“It does smell delicious,” Azriel agreed, eyes scanning over the arrangement of food laid out on the bed, wrapped in papers and boxes. 
“These two bags are just some clothes Morrigan helped me pick out, that one is a gown, I’m still not sure what I would need it for but it is very pretty,” She told him, grabbing that bag, unzipping it to show him the gown, the one that perfectly matched his siphons. If he noticed he didn’t comment. 
“That is very pretty, you could wear it for Starfall coming up,” He said, a small smile on his face when she looked up at him. 
“Do you think it would be possible for me to visit my mothers grave that day?” She asked, as Starfall was one of the few good memories she had with her mother. 
“Of course, you never have to ask, we can go visit her any time you’d like,” Azriel promises, “What else did you get?”
Cassandra smiled at him, showing him the rest of her haul from the day. He snickered at the books but just as Morrigan had, said he would be more than happy to help her learn to read. It made her happier than he probably realized. 
After she finished showing him everything he stepped out of the room so she could freshen up—change her clothes and mentally prepare herself. 
She changed into an outfit that was a bit too big for her. Long sleeves and long pants. She didn’t want him to see her skin, she didn’t want him to see her at all. But what he did to Neema? To so many other girls? To her? She couldn’t sit by and not help get answers, justice. 
She knew Azriel noted the outfit she was wearing but chose not to say anything. 
“We’re going to winnow there, are you okay with that? We haven’t done it since that first night,” Azriel asked and Cassandra simply nodded, stepping closer to him, tucking her wings close to her back as he wrapped an arm around her. 
The place they arrive at was beautiful yet terrifying. 
“Where are we?” She asked, looking around. He doesn’t answer out loud as he leads her down a dark avenue. 
“This is the Hewn City. The rest of Prythian does not know of the existence of Velaris. They believe Rhysand only rules over this part of the Night Court—the Court of Nightmares.” 
“Oh.” Is her answer, she tries not to look at anything or anyone as thet move through the streets of this underground city—no, not underground, inside of a mountain. She wondered if it was the same mountain the House of a wind was on—she would ask later.
The walk was mostly silent. They walked across many bridges and flights of stairs. Going through most of the city. Down and around and down some more. Her legs and feet hurt and just when she was ready to tell Azriel she couldn’t go anymore they halted. 
Cassandra looked at him in question. He simply nodded towards the wall, she didn’t see anything. 
“He’s behind here,” Azriel explains, his eyes scanning her face. 
“Okay,” she nodded slowly, not totally understanding since there was no door. 
“Rhys will be there the entire time. Cassian will be there the entire time. I will be with you the entire time. Don't be fearful. Don’t let him scare you. If you find yourself feeling uncomfortable tell me immediately and I’ll get you out of there. He’s chained up, he will not lay a finger on you. If he even tried he would die,” Azriel promised. She looked up at him, unease filling her and took in a deep breath as he added , “Would you feel safer if I gave you this?” 
She looked down, in his outstretched hand laid a black hilted dagger with a sharp and shiny blade. 
She reached out, taking it gently from his hand. 
“I’ve never used one before,” she whispered, looking down at the knife in her hand. 
“You won’t need to use it, but if you did Truth Teller wouldn’t let you miss,” Azriel spoke confidently. “You ready?”
 She looked up at him and nodded her head. 
⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆
Azriel hated this. Hated it. His shadows hissed in ear not to bring her in. To protect her. To grab her and take her back to the House of Wind. 
And though he wanted to, he wouldn’t do that to her. She deserved to make her own decisions but this just felt so wrong. 
But after he sheathed Truth Teller and tied it around her waist he felt slightly better. 
She didn’t know the weight of the dagger, its power or what it meant to him. All that mattered in this moment is it made her feel safe and it gave him some peace of mind that if somehow this piece of shit got through three warriors she had a weapon that could kill. 
“Lets go,” he says, offering his hand to her, she places it there gently and much to her surprise they turn to the wall and he led her straight through. 
On the other side was a dark hall, no doors, lit only by a few lights and she grasped Azriel’s hand tighter. 
“This is where we keep a majority of prisoners that haven’t been sentenced for crimes or are being questioned,” Azriel explained, voice low and quiet.  
“Is Kamari here?” 
“No, she’s in a cell under the House of Wind. She’s not dangerous—a terrible person yes, but not dangerous to anyone she could potentially interact with. We don’t want this guy anywhere near the females and too many of them live and work at the house. That’s why he’s here. No one can get in here except Rhys, Cassian, myself and anyone we choose to allow in,” Azriel explained, stopping at another seemingly empty stretch of wall. “How are you feeling?” 
“I’m okay,” she said, fingers twisting at her side. “I’m scared to see him.”  
“You don’t need to be scared but do you want to leave?” Azriel asks, taking a step closer to her, ready to scoop her up and take her home. 
“No, I want to do this,” she shook her head. 
“Okay, he’s right on the other side of this wall,” Azriel explained, trying to prepare her. “When we first walk in, his back will be to us so you don’t have to see his face straight away. You’re welcome to stand but there are chairs if you’d like to sit. Rhysand will be in charge of the interrogation if you believe he’s lying about something or leaving details out don’t hesitate to tell one of us. Rhys says he’ll have communications open so you can talk to him or Cassian easily if you need to. You do not have to speak to this guy but he will try to speak to you. He’s going to want to scare, to tell you all of the things he’s done—he knows what his fate is after we get what we want from him. You have the power here. You say stop then we stop and I take you out of there.” 
Azriel watches as she takes a shaky break, closing her eyes to calm herself. When she opens them Azriel is still standing there patiently. 
“Okay. Okay, I’m good,” She nods her head in a way that’s reassuring to herself, grazing her hand over Truth Teller before dropping her hands to her side. 
She watches as Azriel approaches the wall, stepping through easily as they had done before. Another deep breath, wiping her sweaty palms across her pants before she too walks forward, straight through the wall. 
The room is a bit brighter than the hallway and it takes her eyes a moment to adjust before they fix on the figure in the middle of the room. His blue skin and the clothes he’s wearing looks dirty, he’s chained to a chair and his head turns slightly as if sensing she entered the room, but not enough to see her yet. She wanted to cling to the wall and beg Azriel to come back to her side.
But she didn’t. 
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of cowering.
She knew the three men in this room wouldn’t allow any harm to come to her. She scanned the room, there were two chairs further away from where the male was sitting while Rhysand sat in one directly in front of the male just a few steps away. Cassian stood with his back to a large stone, giving her a small nod when they made eye contact and Azriel stood there behind the man—in a spot she could see him from wherever she chose to stand, a look on his face she hadn’t quite seen before. She could tell only one thing about that look though, he would enjoy killing Vale. 
Cassandra made her way to the opposite wall of where she had entered, choosing not to sit but to stand, using the wall as support, keeping her wings tucked as she leaned back against the wall. 
“Come on High Lord, give me my sight back now. You said I would be able to see her,” Vale hissed, the sound of his voice like a shot of ice down her spine, she suppressed the reaction easily enough. 
Rhysand looked over his shoulder at Cassandra, silently asking her if she was okay, if she was ready. She simply nodded. He waved his hand and those eyes, the ones she still had dreams about suddenly zeroed in on her. It took everything in her to suppress any reaction that time. 
A grin spread across his face as his eyes tracked her body. Up and down, taking in every detail. 
“Wow. Look at you,” he said, licking his lips, “you look even better than I remember. I…wish I could see more.” 
“Yeah, well you can’t,” Cassian is the one to answer. 
“What no hello?” Vale grinned again. 
“She’s not required to speak to you, that wasn’t part of the deal,” Rhysand’s voice thundered through the room. 
“Not that she could anyway” Vale sniggered, nodding his head, eyes still trained on Cassandra. “Alright come on, ask me the questions.” 
He sounded bored but Cassandra wasn’t stupid and neither were any of the males in that room. There was fear in those black eyes. He did indeed know his fate. 
“How long have you been in the business of purchasing females and selling them to sex houses?” Rhysand asked. 
“I don’t know, a year maybe,” Vale groans at the look Rhysand gives home. “Look, man, I drink and smoke myself out every day I lose a good bit of time.” 
“I was at the pleasure house with Kamari for 2 years and with him for almost a year.” Cassandra says, and Rhys nods in acknowledgment. 
“Wanna think a little harder about that? It’s definitely been more than a year,” Rhysand said, Vale narrowing his eyes into slits. 
“How could you possibly know that? Why ask if you’re just gonna say I’m lying?” Vale bares his teeth at Rhysand. 
“Why lie in the first place? You know your fate, lying won’t change that. You know I could enter your mind and destroy it in a second while getting the answers I seek. I’m doing you a courtesy by asking this way.”
Vale is silent for a moment before glancing at Cassandra. “Four years.” 
“How many women did you buy and sell during that time? How did you find them?” Rhysand asked, Vale took a deep breath, looking up at the roof as if thinking. 
“Probably eighty,” He says, Rhys’ face hardens further at that—Cassian’s mouth falling open slightly. 
“Eighty women in four years? Or 80 every year for four years?” Rhys asks through clenched teeth.
“Eighty in all four years,” Vale confirms and while it’s a relief, that’s still a lot of women. “Most of them were sold to me by family members who owed me money, but couldn't pay it back so they sold me a daughter, wife, sister instead.” 
“How did you learn of these pleasure houses buying females from people like you?” Rhysand asked. 
“Word gets around the streets. There’s only three that will buy the females. The Velvet Pearl, Hidden Desires and Lavender house. Kamari recruits men to find the women and sells them for money—usually addicts looking for a fix. She buys her drugs from me, that's how I got started.” Vale explained. 
“How many of them did you keep for yourself?” Rhysand asked, and Vale just laughed. 
“Not as many as you might think. It never even crossed my mind to have a little fun with the merchandise before selling to the pleasure houses. Neema—she’s the only one I ever kept seeing as she’s my mate and all,” Vale confessed and Cassandra couldn’t stop the gasp she took in. 
“That’s right,” Vale grinned. “The bond snapped into place the night her brother sold her to me.” 
“And you thought that was the proper way to treat your mate,” Cassian snarls. Vale simply shrugs his shoulders, looking back at Cassandra. 
“If she hadn’t been my mate though, I would have kept you,” Vale said, smiling at Cassandra. “Everything I did to her I would have done to you—including removing those horrid wings. Tell me, which one of these bastards got the pleasure of bending you over and fucking you—”
Vale’s rant is cut off when one of Azriel’s shadows wraps around his throat. The blue skinned male chokes, eyes widening. 
“I’d watch your fucking mouth if I were you,” Azriel hisses, only letting up his shadow’s grip when Cassandra nods her head at him. 
“At least any one of these males could get a woman into their bed without having to rape her,” Cassandra retorts, Cassian snorting out an amused laugh, relaying the message when Vale looked his way, turning back and snarling at Cassandra like a rabid wolf.
The interrogation went on for what felt like hours. Vale answered the questions Rhysand asked. Cassandra confirmed if he was being truthful or not for certain things. And they all stood there as he described every awful, vile, disgusting thing he did to the women he bought and sold. How he had brutalized and assaulted them before selling them off to be salves for pleasure houses. 
He knew none of their names. None except Neema. He didn’t even know Cassandra’s name and she was standing right there in front of him. 
He did however know the names of all the ones who sold the females—they now had a list of where to start, of how to find the females that had been sold off to the three pleasure houses. 
It’s was when they were getting ready to leave that things started going sideways. Azriel had check in many times with Cassandra to make sure she was okay. And she had been, despite this feeling in her stomach, this thrumming that made her skin feel like it was vibrating. 
“So, I guess it would be out of line to ask for a turn with you before I go out?” Vale laughed, leering at Cassandra. And it was Cassian’s fist that landed the blow to his face. 
“Fuck! You know,” Vale continued with a  laugh, blood dripping from his mouth, “your father almost sold me your sister instead. Pretty little thing she is.” 
He just wants to rile you up. 
He wants to scare you.
He wants a reaction. 
“Only he wouldn’t have got as much for her cause she’d had sex with some male. She was used—but man, if he had I would have kept her, too, I would have taken both of you and kept you just like that little bitch in my basement—“
Cassandra snarled and something inside of her snapped. Before anyone could blink she was across the room Truth Teller gripped in her hand and pressed against Vale’s throat as she crouched over him. Black eyes widened in shock—fear. Good. He wasn’t expecting it. 
“Cassandra?” Azriel’s concerned voice sounded muffled and far away. She didn’t take her eyes away from the man cowering beneath her. 
“She can shield?!” is Cassian's alarmed shout. 
“Cassandra?!” Rhys calls out, feeling whatever shield was around her vibrate as he sent a blast of magic into it. 
“I don’t think she can hear us, Rhys!” Azriel calls out. 
Cassandra could hear them but the look on Vale’s face was too satisfying to look away from. She pressed the dagger harder against his neck, digging it into the skin there, scenting his blood. 
“Are you afraid?” She asked, faces only inches apart. She wasn’t sure how she was talking to him but she didn’t care either. Not when the smell of blood mixed with urine as he pissed on himself. 
“Please, p—please,” he begged, trying to pull away from the blade digging into his throat. 
“Cassandra, come on, let the shield down, love!” 
“I remember begging you like that before you took my tongue. I shouldn’t let them kill you, everything you did to me, to Neema, to all those other girls you deserve to have done to you,” she snarls, Truth Teller thrumming in her hand as if encouraging her to slit his throat and watch him bleed out. 
“What the hell is happening, Rhys?” Cassian’s voice rings outside of that shield. 
“Fuck!” Azriel hisses as he tries to touch that shield, his hand bouncing off of it immediately. 
“I should take your eyes,” she declared. “So that you can never look at anyone again. I should take your tongue the way you took mine. Chop off your cock so you can never fuck again. I should do all that and let you live with it every day of your miserable life!” 
He cries out, struggling under her and she laughs. Right there in his face she laughs.
This is the male she had been afraid of?
This is the male that tortured her everyday in that basement? This pathetic excuse of a male. 
“Absolutely pathetic,” she spits, snarling at him. 
She drops Truth Teller from her hand, falling somewhere between their bodies as she grips his head on either side. “Look at me!” She bellows, forcing his eyes to meet hers. Panicked terror looked back at her and she smiled. 
“Kill me, just kill me, please!” He begged, thrashing under her, her wings spreading to keep herself stead where she was crouched over him—drowning out the voices beyond the shield. He’d had no remorse for anyone else, he deserved no remorse. She leans down, close to his ear, changing her grip on his head. 
“No,” she mouths against his ear as it echoes in his head. Then her thumbs are pressing into those black soulless eyes, his screams echoing around them with nowhere to go, pressing and pressing until they pop. Turning into a bloody mess under her hands. His screams don’t stop as she speaks. 
“You’ll never see again,” she said, grabbing Truth Teller once again sliding it along his exposed skin. “You're lucky I don’t take your hands and tongue. I won’t take your life either. You’ll suffer the way me and so many other girls did.” 
She slides off of him, his screams turning into whimpering cries. 
“Cassandra?” The voice sounded normal again and she looked up, green eyes meeting violet. “Are you okay?” 
“Am I okay?” She asked, glancing at the man she had just maimed without a second thought. 
“I’m not worried about him, are you okay?” Rhysand asks again, taking a step closer to her.
“I’m okay,” she nods, slipping Truth Teller back into its sheath, not hiding the angry tears that welled in her eyes. “I want him to have to live with what he’s done. Death will be too kind for the offenses he’s committed—for the way he’s violated so many.” 
“If you no longer wish death on this male so be it, we will lock him away to rot for the rest of his days,” Rhysand promises and I nod my head. 
“I only have one request,” I tell him, glancing at the man still moaning and whimpering—whispering to himself about his eyes being gone and begging for mercy. 
“What is it?” Rhysand asked. 
“Take his cock,” I demand, there’s no question or judgement in those eyes. He nods but Azriel is the one to speak up. 
“Done.” 
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