#lucien alexis

[kemetic-dreams]

Lucien Victor Alexis (1887-1981)

Not very much is known of Lucien Alexis’ early childhood in New Orleans, but what is known are the achievements he would make in later years to come. Born on July 8, 1887 to Louis Victor and Alice Saucier Alexis, he was educated in the local schools where he excelled academically. Alexis was determined to attend Harvard University. Not having the finances to do so, he began working in 1907(at the age of twenty) as a railway mail clerk, saving for the education he so desperately desired.

By the time he reached twenty-seven, he had set aside enough money for four years of college. He applied and was accepted at Harvard but was asked to attend (for one year) Phillips Exeter Academy in New Hampshire, a prestigious preparatory high school. While at Exeter, he lived in the home of Mr. H.F. Quimby and soon developed a keen interest in foreign languages and the sciences. By now he had only enough money for three years upon entering Harvard, so he managed by graduating “cum laude” a year early (1917). It was there, at Harvard, that he earned the nickname: “The Negro Einstein.”

That same year, Alexis entered Officers’ Training School in Des Moines, Iowa and was commissioned as a 1st lieutenant and assigned to the 367th Infantry on October 15, 1917. World War I was raging in Europe and Alexis sailed for service in France on June, 1918. Two months before departing, Alexis married Rita Holt in Gulfport, Mississippi and together they would have one son, Lucien Victor Alexis Jr.

Upon returning to New Orleans, Alexis took up the profession of teaching. He was assigned to McCarthy Elementary in 1921 and appointed Assistant Principal in 1923 at Willow Elementary. But his greatest reward came in 1926 when he became principal of McDonogh #35, the only public high school opened for the education of colored students in the city of New Orleans. For the next nearly 30 years, he would leave an indelible mark on this institution which is still being echoed by many of his formal students up to the present day.

“It was not unusual to spot our principal walking up and down the corridors of the Rampart Street School reading scientific works printed in German. Noted for his mastery of Latin, he often found time to instruct advanced classes in the subject.” (Class of 1936)

Other graduates affectionately tell stories of his successful administration but also his dreadful “army”. Being a former military man, Lucien was said to be strict but fair as well as famous for his method of disciplining students. Students who violated his dress or discipline code were forced to join Alexis’ “army” and ordered to march up and down the second floor of the school building.

Respect for Mr. Alexis soon extended beyond the school grounds and into the community. Since McDonogh #35 was located on South Rampart and Girod Streets, the students had to pass through a neighborhood of sleazy bars, houses of prostitution and various other vices. Often the girls were meddled by men on the way going and coming from school. Fortunately, once it was known that you were an “Alexis” girl, you were never meddled again. They respected Mr. Alexis and knew to show respect to his students.

The “Negro Einstein” did not give up his interest and love for science once he became principal. For five years he engaged in serious scientific study and soon published a 40 page brochure outlining his principles of a new theory which he termed his “ethonic” theory.

From 1929 to 1937, he published the following scientific articles: Fundamentals in Physics & in Chemistry, The Thermo-Electric Formula, The Riddle of the Magnetic Field, An Empirical Disclosure of the Fallacies of Relativity, A Counter-Deduction from Bent Alpha Tracks, Radiations-Their Loci of Travel and Their Loci of Origin, The Co-Origin of Gravity&Cosmic Rays, Simple Formulae for Measuring Atoms, Their Speed, and the Speed of Light.

Upon retirement, the brilliant educator and published author opened Straight Business School on North Claiborne near Esplanade Avenue and Mrs. Alexis basically ran it. Lucien Alexis also was president of the Supreme Industrial Life Insurance Company, founder and executive director of the School of Post-Modern Science in New Orleans, and a charter member of Sigma Lambda Chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity.

Alexis also spent a great deal of time on his favorite hobbies at home. On the 25th Anniversary of his graduation from Harvard, he told the Harvard press of these hobbies:

“Don’t interfere with my physics and chemistry, which I have raised from the ignoble position of a hobby into the dignified status of a science. Don’t interfere with my Italian which I have picked up since leaving you fellows. Don’t interfere with my German, my French, or my Spanish which I have kept plugging at. These are my near hobbies. You may interfere with my gardening and my frequent efforts at directing operettas, especially the Gilbert and Sullivan ones, for there you are in the field of real hobbies of mine.”

Lucien Alexis passed away December 18, 1981. He is buried in the family’s tomb in St. Louis Cemetery No.3.

[skygemspeaks]

Boyfriend material au where luc decides early on that he's never going to be able to live an anonymous life, so instead he just sets out to become even more famous than his dad.

He gets into acting, ends up becoming super famous, and the first time he sees an article that refers to Jon Fleming as "the father of popular actor Lucien O'Donnell" instead of the other way around, he laughs so hard his stomach hurts, and immediately screenshots the headline to send to his mom

Meanwhile oliver is still a barrister and all his coworkers think he's just the most boring person on the face of the earth. He prefers to keep his personal and professional lives separate, so he never talks about his husband. Then one year he goes as Luc's date to the oscars and when his coworkers see him on tv they freak the fuck out and start spamming the work group chat like "!!!???!?!?!?!??!????!!!??"

[hussyknee]

If you aren't reading KJ Charles's books I sincerely do not know what you're doing with your life.

[hagnoart]

Dark blue: Luc and Oliver

[timecatcherstarchaser]

unblocked rc since i only care about spoilers for wtc and immediately started seeing spoilers for eeeverything lmao

i wanna play. so bad. but i spent like 500 diamonds on time catcher. so im gonna b good. and wait for dr.

[gaydelgard]

I FORGOTTTT THIS HAPPENS

[azures-grace]

Team Dragonborn drawn! There's a lot of them!

Character L-R:

Alexi Woodrow, Auri, Lina Woodrow, Cicero, Kaidan, Lucien Flavius, Luna, Martin Septim, Inigo, Teldryn Sero, Armina Woodrow, and Lucien Lachance

There might be a lore dump later if/when I get the mental will to rewrite what I lost by accident.

I absolutely love the modded followers I use and also I forgot to add in Rumarin, but he just kind of hangs out in the gang sometimes.

[petervintonjr]

Meet the "Negro Einstein," Lucien Victor Alexis, Sr. Born in 1887 New Orleans, Lucien originally worked as a railway mail clerk, saving up for his ultimate dream --to attend Harvard University; a phenomenally daunting challenge for a Black man at that time. At the age of 27 he finally accumulated sufficient funds and he was accepted, though the university asked him to first attend the Phillips Exeter Academy in New Hampshire for one year. During that period Alexis discovered his talent (and love) for foreign languages and excelled in all of his classes, managing to graduate cum laude from Harvard a full year early (1917) so as not to exhaust the offset from his tuition savings.

During World War I Lucien was commissioned as a 1st Lieutenant in the famed 366th Infantry (see also Lessons 60 and 117 in this series). After the war he returned to his hometown of New Orleans and married Rita Holt, with whom he had one son, Lucien Jr. (who would himself one day also attend Harvard and overcome a great many prejudices of his own). After working as a teacher at a number of elementary schools, he secured an appointment as principal of McDonough High School, where he would truly cement his reputation. Alexis brought some of his Army discipline to his principalship and also to his German and Latin classes, quietly enforcing strict dress and behavior codes. McDonough was situated in a poor neighborhood and was the only public high school available in New Orleans for Black people and endured a bad reputation... but under Alexis's leadership over the next 30 years, the school not only succeeded, it flourished (so much so that local ne'er-do-wells made a point of never picking on any of Alexis's students as they passed through dangerous neighborhoods on their way to and from school!).

Over the course of his tenure, Alexis published a number of additional research articles on ethonic theory, and also physics, chemistry, atomic theory, and even Relativity. After retirement, he and Rita founded and administered New Orleans's Straight Business School (no connection to Straight University). He also founded New Orleans's School of Post-Modern Science, and even served as president of the Supreme Industrial Life Insurance Company --then one of the largest Black insurance firms in the United States. Alexis died in 1981, sadly having outlived his own son, who himself died in 1975. (Teachers: Need some resources to engage your students this Black History Month? I'll send you a pile of these trading cards, no cost, no obligation. Just give me a mailing address and let me know how many students in your class. No strings attached, no censorship, no secret-relaying-of-names to Abbott or DeSantis or HuckaSanders.)

[ombwarrior47]

10 Things That Never Happened by Alexis Hall

Title: 10 Things That Never Happened Author: Alexis Hall Series: Material World #1 Number of Pages:  386 Genre:  LGBTQ+ Romance Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca Date of Original Publication: October 17, 2023 ISBN:   978-1728245102

Even though I was disappointed by the last book I read from Alexis Hall, Husband Material, I decided to give this one a shot. It is a spinoff of a character who was introduced in Husband Material. I understand that it may be a part of another series that the author intends to continue called Material World.

I liked this book nearly as much as I liked Boyfriend Material. The characters take a while to warm up to. It seems like the author likes to write broody characters. Lucien and Oliver are very similar to Sam and Jonathan. Like with Boyfriend Material, it took me a while to warmup to the secondary partner. Oliver was nearly as dislikeable as Jonathan was.

The author had an interesting concept where the main character fakes having amnesia in order to try and save his job. His boss ends up taking care of him and they become a complicated couple. The book was interesting and kept me entertained until the end. I do not feel that there were any slow parts in the book. I would be interested in reading book 2 if Hall was willing to continue on with the series.

★★★★  

~

Up Next:  

-Dark World by Zak Bagans

-Wrongful Deaths by Tom Combs (Drake Cody #3)

-Those Empty Eyes by Charlie Donlea

-A Touch of Darkness by Scarlett St. Clair (Hades x Persophone #1)

Yearly Goal Markers:

Book Goal: 29/75  = 38.7%

Page Goal:  9.6/15k = 64.3 %

Follow me on LibraryThing, Goodreads, and Amazon. Same handle: OMBWarrior47

[federicodimarco]

Denzel Dumfries of FC Internazionale, Stefan De Vrij of FC Internazionale, Lucien Agoumè of FC Internazionale, Lautaro Martinez of FC Internazionale, Emil Audero of FC Internazionale, Alexis Sanchez of FC Internazionale, Federico Dimarco of FC Internazionale and Nicolò Barella of FC Internazionale celebrate after winning during the FC Internazionale training session at Suning Training Centre at Appiano Gentile on August 31, 2023 in Como, Italy. (Photo by Mattia Pistoia - Inter/Inter via Getty Images)

[skygemspeaks]

My first instinct, born from years of practice, was to...Actually, I didn't know. Five years ago, I'd have gone out, got wasted, and got laid. Six months ago, I'd have gone home, got drunk, and got under my duvet. Now I just wanted to be with Oliver. And I could? Because he was downstairs? This semblance of a healthy lifestyle was going to take some getting used to.

"Boyfriend Material," chapter 35, Alexis Hall

[mf-means-matthew-fairchild]

Yes I really liked the book I just finished reading. And I know that it's got a sequel that I already have a copy of. But does that mean Im gonna read it? No, because I'm just that messed up.

[koisplosion]

Sebastian id pack !

Names:

August, Alexander, Alexandra, Alexandria, Alexandro, Alex, Alexis, Alexia, Aiden / Ayden, Auden, Ashton, Asher.

Benjamin, Bastion / Bastien / Bastian, Bastille, Basil, Beckett, Brien / Brian / Bryan.

Casper, Caspian, Cassian, Callum, Callister, Castiel, Cillian, Crispin, Cyprien / Cyprian.

Desmond, Damien / Damian / Damion, Darien / Darion / Darian, Dorien / Dorion / Dorian.

Emiliano, Emilia, Ethan, Evelien / Evelian, Evelin / Eveline / Evelyn, Evelyne.

Felix, Finnian, Finnigan, Fletcher, Felician / Felicien.

Gabriel / Gabrielle, Gabriela / Gabriella, Grayson / Greyson, Gillian, Griffin / Griffon, Griffith.

Hawthorn / Hawthorne, Hector, Hectare, Hadrien / Hadrian, Hasien, Hastien.

Imogen, Irving, Isadore, Isadora, Ien / Ian / Ion, Irine.

Jasper / Jazzper / Jesper, Julian / Julien / Julion, Julius, Jesker, Julio, Julie, Julia.

Kasper, Killian, Kaspian, Kassian, Kasabian, Katrine, Katrina, Katarina / Katerina, Katrien / Katrian.

Lucien / Lucian, Lucifer, Lien / Lian, Leon / Lion, Lillian / Lilian / Lillien / Lilien, Lucianus, Lucio / Luceo.

Matthew / Matthieu, Matthias, Morgen / Morgan, Mien.

Nicholas / Nickolas, Nathaniel, Nyx / Nix, Nyxton / Nixton, Nox.

Obsidian, Onyx, Oren, Orius, Orion, O'Brien / O'Brian, Octavian / Octavien, Orien.

Parker, Preston, Porter, Poet, Poem, Paien, Peregrine / Peregrien.

Russel / Russell, Rien / Rian / Ryan, Racien / Recene, Regien / Ragien.

Savannah, Sterling / Stirling, Sullivan, Sylvester / Sylvestre, Sylvanus, Sylvania, Spencer.

Theodore, Tristan , Tomas / Thomas, Thatcher, Tobias, Terien / Terrien.

Urien

Void, Victor / Viktor, Victoria / Viktoria, Vespian / Vespien / Vaspian / Vaspien, Vien, Vivian / Vivien / Vivienne.

Wilbur, William, Wacien.

Xaydien

Zadrian / Zadrien / Zaydrien.

1st p prns:

I / me / my / mine / myself.

Ci / cige / ciggy / cigarine / cigaretteswlf

Ei / ege / eggy / eggine / eggself

Fi / fre / froggy / frogine / frogself

Fri / froze /frozy / frozine / frozenself

Mi / me / mounty / mountine / mountainself

Oi / obse / obsidy / obsidine / obsidianself

Pi / pe / pumpky / pumpkine / pumpkinself

Si / se / sebby / sebine / sebself

Si / sebe / sebby / sebastine / Sebastianself

Si / soe / soupy / soupine / soupself

Si / sashe / sashy / sashimine / sashimiself

Si / se / summery / summerine / summerself

Smi / sme / smokey / smokine / smokeself

Ti / te / teary / tearine / tearself

Vi / ve / voide / voidy / voidine / voidself

Wi / wine / wintry / wintine (winterine) / winterself

2nd p prns:

You / your / yours / yourself

Co / cigar / cigars / cigarself

Eu / egger / Eggers / eggerself

Fro / freezer / freezers / freezerself

Fro / frogger / froggers / froggerself

Mo / mounter / mountaineers / mountaineerself

Ou / obsidianer / obsidianrs / obsidianerself

Po / pumpkiner / pumpkiners / pumpkinerself

So / sebber / sebbers / sebberself

So / Sebastianer / Sebastianers / Sebastianerself

So / souper / soupers / souperself

So / sashimir / sashimirs / sashimirself

So / summer / summers / summerself

Smo / smoker / smokers / smokerself

To / tear / tears / tearself

Vo / voider / voiders / voiderself

Wo / winter / winters / winterself

3rd p prns:

They / them / theirs / themself

Ci/cig, cig/cigs, cig/arette, cig/ar, cigar/cigars, cigar/ette, cigar/cigarette, cigarette/cigarettes

Eg/egg, Egg/eggs, egg/eggy

Fro/zen, froze/frozen, frozen/frozens, frozen/tear, Fro/og, frog/frogs, frog/froggy, frog/egg

Mount/ain, mount/mountain, mountain/mountains, mountain/road

Obsi/dian, obs/idian, ob/sidian, obsidian/obsidians

Pum/pkin, pump/kin, pump/pumpkin, pumpkin/pumpkins, pumpkin/soup

Seb/sebby, seb/Sebastian, sebby/sebbys, seb/by, sebby/Sebastian, seb/astiolan, se/bastian, sebas/Tian, Sebastian/sebastians

Sou/p, so/up, sou/soup, soup/soups, soup/soupy, sa/shimi, sash/imi, sash/sashimi, Sashi/mi, sashimi/sashimis

Smo/ke, smo/smoke, smoke/smokes, smoke/smokey, smoke/smoker, su/mmer

sum/mer, sum/summer, summer/summers, summer/summery, summer/summertime

Te/ar, te/ear, tea/er, tear/tears, tear/teary

Vo/oid, vo/id, voi/d, voi/void, void/voids

Win/ter, win/winter, wint/er, won't/winter, winter/winters, winter/wintry, winter/time

Titles:

The gamer, the smoker, the mountain dweller

The seasonal smoker, the village smoker

The farmers smoke buddy, the cigarette owner

The void egg admirer, the frog egg fan, the sashimi lover

(prn) who loves sashimi, (prn) who enjoys pumpkin soup

(prn) who treasures obsidian, (prn) who smokes

(prn) who owns frog eggs, (prn) with the cigarette in hand

(prn) who admires void eggs, (prn) and (prns) addicted self

(prn) who plays games with friends, (prn) with the bottled emotions

Coinings:

Sebastian + romance

Smokerscentstellic - dissomeismoker

Stardewanatomic - stardewgender

Voidchickspritic - obsidiagem

Mascorette

Tagging:

@the-church-of-strabismus @sanguinaryfreaks and @hewasanamericangirl

Request status on the inbox

Please read the byf linked in fox's pinned post

[timecatcherstarchaser]

[YELLING]

[gaydelgard]

the difference here is interesting

[achaotichuman]

Our house of hunger

House of hunger Made of meat and bones Flesh and blood And with thread it's sewn Its terror well feared By the old and fair Seekers take hold Readers beware

A/N: When I made the title of this fic, I thought it sounded so good, that it must be the title of another book and yes it is! I will be reading House of Hunger by Alexis Henderson now.

Summary: A Feylin Affair Story, love has turned bitter, and they cannot bear affection. But they desire each other carnally anyway

Part One Here

Warning: Graphic descriptions of violent sex (consensual)

“You’ve gone from treating me like I can handle anything you throw at me, to treating me like I’m something fragile.” He snapped. 

Tamlin stared at him, he did not say anything. 

It was a cloudy day, thunder rolled in the distance, it felt fitting. Lucien shook his head, stepping closer to his desk, Tamlin didn’t tell him otherwise. He could have ordered him away, but that would achieve nothing. Lucien wouldn’t leave anyway. He’d take it as a challenge. 

“I’m not made of glass, Tamlin.” He hissed. 

Maybe he wasn’t, but he was too soft, he was too kind. Tamlin didn’t want to hurt him anymore, and he knew he would. He hurt everything. He couldn’t help it. 

He was on a path that might lead to healing now, but it was still covered in thorns. 

“Maybe you are though,” Lucien muttered, “I’ve seen you shatter before.”

He left, and Tamlin didn’t know if he would come back. Usually when he stormed off, Tamlin didn’t want him to come back. He wasn’t sure this time. 

“I think Mor suspects something.” Feyre murmured, her chest still heaving. Tamlin heard her speak, but he didn’t understand for a few moments. His mind still lost in post-coital bliss, and the mind-numbing pain he was in. 

She’d been rougher tonight, he’d wanted it, it drowned out Lucien’s anger still lurking in his mind. His words burned into his head. I’m not made of glass, Tamlin. I’m not made of glass. 

He wouldn’t understand this, he wouldn’t want to, Tamlin told himself. Lucien was kind, but he didn’t know, and he wouldn’t be able to wrap his head around why this would be something Tamlin would, could, want. 

He couldn’t know, and thinking about this was too much. Tamlin wanted Feyre to break his bones, and maybe that might stop his mind. 

He reached out for her, his fingers splayed across her leg, she pushed him away and he was forced to focus on what she had said. 

“What makes you think that?” He asked breathlessly, it was hard to focus, to think. When all he could imagine was her pulling his ribs out one by one, lips around his flesh, carving her mark. 

“She keeps asking me questions. Insisting on joining me whenever I leave. The other day when I was out getting another box of cigars, I caught her following me.” As she spoke, Feyre sat up, wincing as she moved, her open wounds dragging along the smooth silk sheets, turning them wet. She reached for his bedside drawer, where she’d started keeping her spare cigars for when she came here.

“She wasn’t very smart about it.” Feyre continued, an ember spark on the tip of her finger casting an amber glow over her face and hand. 

Smoke plumed from her mouth as she exhaled, “Hiding behind a cart and peeking around whenever she thought I wasn’t looking.”

“Morrigan was never the sharpest.” Tamlin quipped. 

Feyre cast him a long side look and he shut his mouth. He’d learned, or should have learned, that only Feyre could speak about Feyre’s friends. 

Friends. He almost laughed at the word. It wasn’t his place to say her relationships were far from friendly though. She would learn that on her own. 

Maybe she already had. 

“She might be worried about you.” Tamlin tried. He tried to imagine if Lucien started disappearing from him, slipping away in the dark of night, not returning until morning or days later and giving half-hearted excuses. That would hurt right? 

“I have to go.” Feyre said, and again, she slipped between his fingers. 

The sun was a kind soul, dancing along his skin, kissing warmth to his face. The grass underneath held him gently, the winds of Spring, the scent of rebirth. The distant fog of winter long passed, and the oncoming blistering rage of summer. A mediator, reprieve, an end to survival, the beginning of living. He was biased, but Tamlin loved spring of all the seasons. 

His spring was always kind to him, even when the roots had turned to rot, the trunks were hollow and the grass was burned. When the sun was blotted out by the overgrowth, when the foundations were being undone. The wind still sang for him, begged for him. A distant screaming painful sound. It wanted him. The one thing that always wanted him. 

It’d consume him if he let it. Ground opening up, the roots wrapping around his wrists and legs, pulling him down, pushing through his chest, opening his insides to the splendor of twisting vines and cunning fungi. It would eat him alive if it could. 

Hungry. It was hungry. Claws pricked at his fingers. He was hungry. 

Feyre. He needed Feyre. 

She was already naked in his bed, he was not allowed to touch her clothes. They were something of Night, and here everything he touched must be of the Green. 

There was no push and pull tonight, she laid upon the covers. Legs spread and waiting, the insides of her thighs glistening in the dusk light. Eyes clothes, her arms were spread out. An angel with her wings clipped. An angel sick of heaven. 

He was quick to shed his shirt, they said nothing, as the lock on the door clicked. His trousers next, and he was between her. There was no politeness, no introduction. This was to be painful. It was something they both craved, the hurt was filling and he was starving. 

Barely registering the hard crack of his knees against the floor, he fell without hesitation. Tongue lapping at her insides, she was warm and soft and pliant. She grabbed at his hair and ripped until his skull felt like it might come apart. Her thighs wrapped around his head as his lips suckled her bud. 

She arched her back, and he slid his hands around her flesh. He pulled and pulled and pulled, and skin tore, and she screamed. 

He found himself above her, cock ramming into her core as she cried, she dug her own claws into his ribs, she pushed and pushed and pushed, her nails slid between the bones, and blood gushed over her bouncing breasts, he sucked it up as it dribbled over her. 

Teeth sunk into soft skin, his tongue flicked her nipple as she tore his back open. His fangs pushed deeper and deeper and deeper. As the taste of metal flooded his mouth, he came undone. His claws tore the sides of her thighs wide open as he pulled her down against him as he came. Spurts of come buried deep inside her, a drop of drool fell from the side of her mouth, pulling out slowly, her hole spasmed around nothing. 

Eyes rolled back, head thrown back, she looked fucked out. Or possibly dying. The sheets were dark, sopping wet. Blood continued to flow freely from their open wounds. He felt it drip down his back, covering the backs of his thighs in smeared red as he moved. 

She laid there, her pants coming fast and shallow. More blood bubbled up from the tears on her thighs, the bite marks weeping. Blinking her eyes open, she stared blankly at him. 

He still felt hungry. 

It was all consuming. He wished to break her into many pieces. She looked as though she felt the same. Hips slamming down against his, the wetness dripping from her core coating his cock, shining in the low lamp light everytime she pulled up. Making a loud squelching sound when she came back down. Blood mingled with their fluids, smeared across the skin. He groped her hips and ass, moving up her middle, dragging his nails as he did. He found her breasts, squeezing them between his fingers, he pulled them apart until he felt the skin begin to rip. Until sobbing tears fell from her eyes. Until she started screaming in sweet, horrifying agony.

She dug her fingers into his middle, hooking her fingers just underneath his ribs. She pulled up and up until a bloody, torn scream was ripped from his throat. She pushed on his shoulders until he heard a popping sound in one of them, his arm went limp and a choked cry shuddered through her as she came. 

Hollowness always followed these long nights. She left him, and took his world with her. 

Emptiness, a long, vast chasm. Sitting, waiting. A balancing beam stretched across it, he walked without confidence. Afraid he might fall down, be lost to the never-ending hunger lying beneath. 

Going about your day when there was nothing but a crippling want, rising up at every given moment. The love around you was easier to see. And it was drowning. 

The maid blew kisses to the gardener, who caught and pressed them to his chest. The cook telling the latest story of what his kids got up to, leaving his wife and himself desperately trying to wrangle them. Two males ducking away on their breaks, giggling and speaking in hushed tones to each other as their faces blushed. A female and her wife holding each other’s hands as tightly as they could on the walk home at dusk. A sentry and their partner distracting each other from work whenever they might pass each other. 

The want for her underneath him was growing restless. He couldn’t see the work in front of him, there was only want, only ever want. He didn’t know the difference between want and need anymore. Was there ever a difference? Was she nothing more than a relief to him for a blink in time, or could she be something more? 

She had once been something more, but he didn’t remember what that felt like now. 

In the back of his throat, he tasted honey and vodka. 

He stood in his bedroom. Long hair fallen over his shoulders, down his back. Tamlin know realised how long it was, scarlet red hitting the back of his knees. 

Amber eyes gleamed in the silver light, dripping blood was nowhere to be found, but he grasped for it anyway. If he clenched his fists in the sheets pooled around him, it might become soaking. He could still smell her. Even if he had burned the covers they had used. 

He came closer, Tamlin did not stop him. He stood at the edge of the bed, Tamlin moved to hook his legs over, feet now planted on the cold floor. Legs spread, Lucien stood between them. His fingers caught his chin, tilting his face up. 

“I know she’s been here, I’m not stupid. Nor am I blind.” Lucien said, he tapped his metal eye, running a nail across the spidering scars, “You forget this one can still see.”

“Will you tell him?” Tamlin asked. 

“Rhysand?” Lucien raised an eyebrow, “My loyalties do not belong to him.”

“Who do they belong to?” Are you still mine? 

“I don’t know anymore.” Lucien whispered, his breath soft, still kind, even now, “The man I thought they belonged to belongs to the woman who destroys even now. I don’t know if I can serve someone like that.”

“You will never serve me.” Tamlin said. Lucien was a being of the wind, of the sky, of freedom. He blew from place to place. Dazzling all, then as quickly as he came, as soft and beautiful as the early morning mist, he was swept away again. Tamlin couldn’t hold him down. 

“That's where you’re wrong, Tamlin.” Lucien snapped, gripping his face with his whole hand. He leaned down, “You think I’m fragile. You think I’m something you need to protect. I’m not soft clay, nor am I glass. I do serve you. I did serve you. I am locked around you. It kills me to leave you.”

Tamlin stared at him, at the raging fire beneath, rising up. Reaching, burning, consuming. Hunger, hunger, hunger. 

“I need you. I need you like air. I feel like an addict.” Lucien murmured, “I serve you, and I do it well. I’ve done it well for years. I cannot leave you. It’s simply impossible.”

“Do you hate me?” The question slipped from his throat without his permission. He was lost, lost in burning amber eyes, eaten up by fire. Lucien’s hand was burning, his eyes were burning, his hair was burning. Tamlin tasted ash on his tongue. 

“In some ways, yes. I hate you for not understanding. For not being capable of letting go. For not loving me-”

“I love you.” Tamlin choked. Fire rose in the back of his throat, “I love you, Lucien.”

Lucien shook his head, fingers slipping away from his face. Tamlin felt his entire being lunge forward, desperate for those hands again. Grab him, choke him, dislocate him, rip his entire body to pieces and let their souls be tied. He needed to be closer. He wanted to crawl into Lucien’s chest and nurse his heart. 

“You love me, but you love her also?” 

“I don’t love her.” What we have is not love. 

Lucien was silent for a moment, “Would you give her up for me?”

Tamlin did not answer, and Lucien’s face twisted with disgust, “You want too much Tamlin, you’ve confused it for need.”

Lucien turned on his heel, but Tamlin did not let him leave. 

He screamed at him, he shoved him back, he pointed and accused him. It all made him feel whole again. Tamlin’s back against the door. Lucien’s hands curled into fists.

Night consumed them, the moon was dark, and there was no candle nor fire light, just the burning of Lucien’s eyes, and the never-ending stream of hatred that fell from both their mouths. 

Everything resurfaced, all he’d done and was yet to pay for, all they were, and what they could have been. A reminder and repentance. It felt terrible to feel good right now. 

Lucien knew all his soft spots, knew how to sink his teeth into them. How to twist the pain and lodge it further in. The salt he threw into the wound, he rubbed it in. It was talent, skill. It was what made him so good at what he did. 

Tamlin felt like kneeling, asking, begging for forgiveness and he wanted to shove Lucien back and rip his throat apart. Neither happened, he just spat back what he could, and let the rest sink into his bones. 

Soon dawn came, and like a fire being snuffed out, their anger was gone. Lucien was framed by the spilling, golden pinkish light. And Tamlin felt the rays reflected in his eyes. They looked at each other with new light. It felt too intimate. It felt too soft. Tamlin was afraid. 

“I love you,” Lucien said at last, “But you don’t know how to love me.” 

Tamlin was still silent, Lucien added, “Or you don’t know how to love without thorns.”

“Could you love me with them?” Tamlin asked, his voice choked with tears. Rough from screaming. 

Lucien pushed him away from the door, and left. 

Feyre stopped coming. It was sudden, abrupt. She sent a single letter, her name signed beautifully at the bottom. She was getting better at writing. 

It was short and sweet. 

I cannot thank you enough. 

I will never forget you, Tamlin. 

Yours truly, Feyre. 

It was an end to the end. And Tamlin felt a weight lift from his chest, even as his hatred. His anger, slammed back into him. 

The letter was shredded and burned. His room was torn to bits. Every part of her. The cigar smoke staining the wood, the blood stained into one of his favourite shirts, the memory of her being, he ripped it away. 

It felt like regression. Some left immediately, not wanting a repeat of what one drove them off before. Some were more hostile towards him after, but his anger blinked out almost as quickly as it came. 

Maybe it was her being here that kept him hungering for more. Maybe it was just the push and pull of healing. He didn’t know. 

He didn’t know how to sort through his feelings, how to pluck one away from the other and examine them carefully. Say what they meant and what he thought about them. He felt everything at once, or nothing at all. 

Things got less difficult after it was done. The nights were longer, they felt lonelier, he dove into his work and didn’t resurface. When there was no paperwork to sort until his fingers were worn down, he went to help on the grounds, with patrol, with every duty he could think of until the day was done and he was so exhausted he passed out on his bed and fell into a dreamless sleep. 

Lucien did come back, eventually. His hair was longer. Nearly reaching his ankles. How long had it been? Tamlin couldn’t remember. 

Lucien said something, that might have been an apology, or an ‘I love you’, or he told him to wake up, he didn’t know. He couldn’t tell. All words mixed together. But why would he say wake up?

Oh, he was on the floor. 

Right. 

He was so tired. 

The ceiling was white. The chandelier was beautiful. It sparkled in the day light. The cold tiles beneath him were piercing, his whole body ached. Like he had fallen. 

Did he pass out? The light around him darkened, his body started to feel lighter and lighter. 

Was he dying? 

He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything anymore. Thinking was hard, and he was hungry. When was the last time he had eaten? When she was here?

How long had it been?

Her memory still burned alive in this place. Living around him constantly. He saw her being in every place. He saw those amber eyes now above him, in the walls, in his bed, in the gardens. He saw red hair, he saw blue eyes. No escape, he was consumed. 

He couldn’t escape it, couldn’t escape them, in these halls of loathing. In this house of hunger.