I Am Not Ready - Tumblr Posts

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit

I know the angst is gonna hurt so good, and I am totally here for it. I will cry, but my heart will be safe in the knowledge that there will be a happy ending. At some point.

😭😭😭

[ 3tan10 ] …🥲

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a/n: last one for awhile unless mr. min does something incredible lmao WHAT ARE WE FEELING 3TANNIES ARE WE EVEN READY??? (spoilers: i’m not😀)

Still A Sunbeam

Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Read on AO3

There was no hungover Arina to join Elain that next morning when she woke. There was a box, with a small, pink swim suit tucked against pretty white tissue. That was from Arina, an apology Elain thought for falling asleep in the library, leaving her to make her way through the palace alone.

She hoped, anyway. 

There was also a note in masculine script. 

Two o’clock. 

She supposed it was childish to go to his mother and demand a new teacher. Lucien acted as if she’d personally wronged him, when he was the one who’d shoved her. And yet Lucien acted as if she’d committed some grave, unforgivable sin against him. He was going to ruin everything for her, prove Killian right, and more than anything, Elain couldn’t abide by that. So she’d let tears fall down her cheeks and begged Amera Spell-Cleaver to please, please let someone else tutor her. 

Clearly that had failed. 

She didn’t believe Lucien could reign in his temper long enough to give her a worthwhile lesson which was the only thing that kept Elain from stalking to the throne room for his mother again. Let Lucien prove was a spoiled princeling he was. No one could accuse her of not trying, at least. She’d had her fair share of males like Lucien—Killian was just the same. Self-satisfied, pompous and arrogant, with a handsome face and a title that ensured he was never without company.

Elain dressed in blue and tried not to feel out of place with the satin sleeves hugging her arms despite the choking humidity. Elain wasn’t ready for breezy gowns with open backs and long slits up the sides, nor was she ready for pants.

Or teeny tiny swimsuits.

Instead, Elain chose to be dutiful. In the library, she pulled a book of all the current trade deals made between all seven courts over the last century and a half. The book held nearly a thousand pages of transcripts, documents, and testimony—and all of it was terribly dull. Four pages in, and Elain caught herself wondering if marriage to Killian wasn’t so terrible.

And then she remembered he was born the same year her mother was, and how often he’d picked her up when she’d been a little girl, and Elain went back to writing out detailed notes.

Sometimes agreements between courts was simple. Night and Day had built roads between their border cities, and seventy four years earlier, had arranged to have a guard of two soldiers from Day, and two from Night, inspect all goods that came in and out. Merchants were required to have matching seals—a sun and a moon—in order to sell their goods between the two courts. 

Other times they were more complex, such as when Summer imposed a tariff to all incoming ships looking to dock at their harbor. For Autumn, who relied on goods from the northern part of Prythian to make their way through Summer, this had been especially fraught and had nearly resulted in a war. 

Elain didn’t know how any of the High Lords managed any politicking when their overly large egos constantly got in the way. More often than not, simple things caused major fights that could go on for years. 

Decades, even. 

Elain rubbed at her eyes. She wanted to go back to her book about Seers—to read the firsthand account of a young girl grappling with visions, and the observations of a philosopher pondering the nature of such magic and why the Cauldron saw fit to pass it down the way it did. Seers rarely came through genetic lines, and were borne of all seven courts indiscriminately. 

Though, they showed up most frequently in Hybern, where Elain’s father was from. He was unremarkable unless you counted his head for numbers. What were the odds he had three extraordinary daughters? 

Elain compiled her notes, prepared this time for if Lucien asked her about trades. She hadn’t covered all of them, but she’d done just enough to hopefully impress upon him that she was serious. If he was the best, then Elain wanted him to show her how it was done. How to gather information, how to sit at the table with lords far older and cannier than her, and still have her way. Elain already knew the value of a pretty smile, of a well-placed hand and a well-timed laugh. 

But that was merely feigning interest and not getting her way. It was what saw Elain in her current predicament. She’d been too nice to Killian and now he believed she had genuine affection for him. 

He tried to sleep with her before she left. Pinned up against a wall, grinding himself against her as he’d murmured in her ear, “Something to remember me by.”Part of her thought it might just be better to get the whole thing over with. It might even temper Killain’s own lust once he realized he’d had her and no one else would ever get that distinction. She’d been too afraid, squeaking out an apology and excuse until he stopped kissing her neck and let her go. 

It seemed like sex was the favored pastime in Day. Elain knew of the orgies, the parties—had seen the prince on his knees, even—and didn’t think that was how she wanted her first time to be, either. She wanted to at least like the male. To be able to look back on it fondly rather than cringing at the memory. 

She was thinking of, maybe, if she could get her bearings, finding someone in the Day Court who was charming. Kind, even. Someone who would understand the limitations of her situation without being a massive prick about it. That wouldn’t expect marriage but not be cold or callous with her, either.

She pushed open the door to the small study, disappointed to find Lucien lounging in the high backed leather chair at the head of the square table, sandaled feet. The material of the fabric slung over his hips had ridden against his long, muscular thighs to a near indecent length. As he so often was, his chest was bare save for the white that cut diagonal over the broad planes of his torso, clasped with a golden brooch shaped like the sun. 

His auburn hair was half braided off his handsome face, and his wrists and bicep were cuffed in gold. He looked powerful, rakish even with that long hair, and still well-mannered and elegant. Every inch of him betrayed what he’d one day become. High Lord of Day—and an ally, if he ever stopped hating her.

If she could ever get past how much she loathed him.

Lucien looked up from the book in his hands, russet eyes sweeping over her before landing on the clock on the fireplace mantle.

“On time today,” he said, swinging his legs to the floor. Elain closed the door behind her, dropping her stack of notes to the table before sitting primly in her chair. 

Lucien drummed his fingers over the table for a moment, his jaw clenched. Elain braced herself for an onslaught of his temper, for him to slice her to bloodied ribbons for going to his mother.

“About yesterday,” he began in that deep, rich voice of his. Elain suppressed a shiver, bracing herself. “I’m sorry.”

Her mouth fell open. “What?”

Lucien’s full lips pulled into a thin line. “I’m not going to say it again.”

“You’re sorry?” she gaped. Of all the things he might have said, she’d never considered an apology.

“Yes,” he agreed crisply. “I—regret my words.”

He didn’t sound wholly convinced of that, and yet he was still apologizing. Elain nodded, deciding she wouldn’t outright forgive him. Not until he’d proven he would at least work with her. They didn’t have to be friends—he didn’t have to even respect her, really. So long as he trained her well enough to never have to return to Spring, Elain would be satisfied. 

“We’ll be going to Summer,” Lucien began, pulling out a large pad of paper. He propped it against an easel he’d dragged in, standing beside it with a black pen in hand. “There are things you need to know before you ever step foot inside.”

“Like what?” she asked, moving aside her own notes to jot down whatever Lucien said. 

His eyes swept over her. “Like the way they dress, for starters,” he said, making his distaste for her attire plain. 

Elain’s eyes widened, though she wrote it down anyway. “Okay.”

“Unlike other courts, Summer doesn’t conduct their meetings in a hall or a throne room. They take foreign dignitaries to an off-shore pleasure barge.”

Elain forced herself to remain unbothered, though the mention of a pleasure barge made her uncomfortable. She knew exactly what that meant and from the way Lucien was decidedly not making eye contact with her, she knew he understood, too. Elain wanted to ask him if the expectation was for her to have sex with one of them, but that was wild—and far too cruel, even for Lucien. 

He began writing on his large sheet of paper. “Dominic is who we’re trying to sway. He oversees the narrow channel between the Gulf of Adriata and the Prythian Sea. He had immense sway with the High Lord and right now imposes a tariff of thirty percent of all incoming goods against foreign ships.” Elain nodded, writing so quickly her hand was cramping.

“Summer has long coveted a relationship with Day outside of our usual dealings—one the High Lord is prepared to ink on paper if we can get them to lower the tariff to ten percent.”

“What’s the deal?”

“Saffron,” Lucien said, eyes sweeping over Elain. “It’s costly, especially to export.”

“So you’re offering to, what, exactly?”

“A wholesale price of saffron without the export fees and taxes in exchange for passage through the strait. Passing the straits lets us avoid the dangerous waters of Prythian’s southern sea and make more direct routes to Hybern and beyond. Without it, we’re forced to go up around night where the icy water damages our ships.”

“What am I supposed to do, exactly?”

Lucien glanced over his shoulder. “Surely I’m not required to teach you the art of seduction as well.”

Elain hated him for saying that. “Is that what you’ll be doing?”

A wolfish smile spread over his face. “Yes.”

“I thought there would be more…negotiation…” Elain replied lamely, hating that stupid look on his ridiculous face. Lucien arched a brow before turning back to his paper. 

“You thought we’d spend more time sitting around a table arguing when every court has a celebratory orgie? Truly, Elain?”

She did choke on her air, then. “Excuse me?”

“This is why I thought bringing you here was a bad idea. You don’t have to fuck anyone. It’s the illusion, Elain. The game—”

“And when they visit you, is that how they get what they want?” she demanded. 

He was still grinning. “Sometimes.”

Elain believed it. Against her will, the image of Lucien ducking his head beneath some nameless females skirt flooded through her mind. Elain pushed it aside, determined she wouldn’t be distracted. 

Elain let Lucien drone on about Dominic, the Summer court noble they’d be expected to charm and woo, until her hand ached. Two hours was all she got with him until it was time to go. Elain meant to sprint out that door in order to escape Lucien.

“Elain? Can I ask you a question?” he called when she stood, reaching for the door handle.

“No,” she replied, walking out without a look back. Elain had no interest in Lucien’s questions. He might have gotten himself together to educate her today, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he was back to insulting her.

The less they knew about each other, the better.

LUCIEN:

Lucien exhaled a breath, his head hitting the marble wall behind him. He didn’t know who was on her knees in front of him, pushing the fabric of his clothes up over his hips. He didn’t care. Lucien was more than a little intoxicated and was back to doing what he did best when he didn’t want to confront his feelings.

He was fucking. 

Well, he was getting his cock sucked, to be precise. He groaned when soft fingers wrapped around his aching shaft.

“Is this what you like, lord?” she whispered, pumping him roughly. Lucien bucked into her hands, gripping the strands of her hair.

“I’d like it better in your throat,” he growled, angling himself so the tip of his cock smeared precum against her bright red lips. She opened wide, tongue stuck out in invitation. Lucien was going to get caught. Despite the late hour, he hadn’t managed to get back to his bedroom before he’d lost control of himself and the writhing female he’d been hauling over his shoulders. 

He didn’t care. Not when she swallowed him nearly to the root, gagging softly on thick length of him. Lucien’s groan of pleasure bounced off the high ceiling, echoing around him. This was what he needed, he told himself. A release—a pause from the stress he felt and his regular life. 

Something was off. Lucien watched her bobbing head, fingers threaded through thick, dark hair and yet where he ought to have been building higher, he found himself stalled. He wasn’t so drunk that he’d become numb.

Lucien closed his eyes, which helped. Thinking of nothing specific, he let himself be overtaken by the silken heat of the females tongue. Of her wet mouth and the sounds of soft gagging that seemed to spear straight into his balls.

He didn’t try and hold himself back like he so often did, drawing out pleasure until the last possible second. He didn’t want to risk losing the cresting pleasure and the orgasm he so desperately needed. Lucien tightened his hold in the sucking females hair, spreading his legs ever so slightly. 

A flash of big, brown eyes stole through his imagination. Of Elain staring up at him from the table, her lips sucked around the tip of her pen. Elbows on the table, pushing her small, pert breasts higher until they practically heaved against her rather modest neckline.

“No,” he groaned, but it was too late. Lucien came with a violence he wasn’t accustomed to, spilling himself all at once. He couldn’t stop, nor could he recall a time he’d ever felt that good. Pleasure quickly sluiced into cold dread when he realized he’d come, whether intentionally or not, to the image of Elain taking notes. 

The female pulled back, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock. “Was that good for you?”

“I—”

Clipping shoes down the hall caused her to rise to her feet while Lucien adjusted his clothing. A moment later, Arina rounded the corner holding a pile of clothing in her arms. She narrowed her eyes when she saw him, eyes sliding down his body to the bulge of his still erect cock straining against the white fabric of his clothes.

“Charming, as always,” she said, glancing toward the female. “Larissa.”

“Arina,” she murmured with an incline of her head. Lucien saw his opportunity to escape and took it. He shot Larissa an apologetic glance before trailing after Arina.

“You stink,” Arina complained the moment he fell into step beside her.

He only shrugged. “Where were you tonight?”

“Trying to make Elain Archeron feel welcome like your mother asked me,” Arina said. “She asked me what kind of clothes were worn in Summer Court and I went and dug some up for her.”

“You should have made her do it,” Lucien grumbled, unwilling to be charitable despite how his pulse was still pounding in his cock. He didn’t want to think about her like that. Lucien imagined Elain as a nervous, silent thing besides. Exactly what a Spring Court prince would want. Seen and not heard, legs spread silently, unconcerned about pleasure. 

If she could even feel it, of which Lucien doubted. What kind of High Fae didn’t like to fuck? Elain looked as if her eyes might pop out of her head when he’d suggested seduction as a political tactic. 

Arina only sighed. “Not everything needs to be so difficult, Lucien.”

“Try telling her that–”

“Spoke like a true child,” Arina snapped, rounding on him. “And Larissa? Really?”

“Why not Larissa?” he asked defensively, though in truth, Lucien doubted he’d see her again. 

“You don’t remember last summer? The fight in the garden—”

“Oh, that was her?” Lucien asked, thinking of that muggy night when Arina had come to physical blows with another female at court. She’d never said what had happened and Lucien knew better than to ask. “What was the fight over, anyway?”

“My father,” Arina gritted out. Lucien’s smile died, nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath. Arina’s father had once been a respected member of Helions court. Now he was little more than a drunk pissing away generations of wealth at the gambling tables. He’d never recovered after Arina’s mother died, though from what Lucien remembered, the male had never seemed to show much affection for her, either. 

“Oh,” he said, feeling like a shitty friend.

Arina cut him a sharp glance. “It’s like I said, Lucien. Not everything has to be so difficult.”

“Arina,” he pleaded, but she took off ahead of him, tossing her glossy waves over her shoulder without a look back. Lucien was fucking everything up lately. He knew he was. He just barely had friends anymore. His parents were disappointed in him, Arina didn’t like being around him…fuck, Lucien didn’t like being around himself, either. 

He thought about that until the sun rose—how he couldn’t figure out how he’d ended up like this. Jaded and angry despite having no reason to be. And he knew where Arina would be first thing in the morning. Padding out to the blue mosaic tile and the sparkling, inlaid pool that his family used when they couldn’t be bothered to go to the beach, Lucien stretched himself out on Arina’s favorite raft in nothing but a pair of orange shorts. He’d spent half the morning floating with her and the other half dragging her into the city for food and drinks until the bridge of her nose was sunburned and she didn’t look at him with such open exasperation. 

He was pleased when Arina rounded the corner wearing matching orange. She put her hands on her hips when she saw him, sighing loudly.

“Haven’t you heard of just saying sorry?” she demanded, wading down the steps while tying her hair messily against her scalp.

“Nope. This is all I know,” he replied with a grin.

“The least you could have done was bring drinks.”

“That comes later. On me,” he added, as if there was ever any doubt. What good was being the High Lord’s heir if Lucien couldn’t get his best friend rip roaring drunk on occasion? 

Lucien slid into the warm water, holding the raft still so Arina could fling herself on top of it gracelessly. They both couldn’t fit, so instead Lucien braced his arms against the side and propelled them around the pool lazily, flooding her with water without sinking her. 

“Tell me the gossip,” Lucien said, even though he knew just as much as she did. It was a peace offering.

Talk to me.

“Is it true your mother is inviting all of Autumn Court for her birthday?”

Lucien sighed. “Just my brothers. They’ll be here for three days.”

Arina glanced over at him. “I’m sorry, Lucien.”

He played dumb. “Why? Mother loves them—”

“But you don’t. They’re awful. I hear the rumors too, you know…”

“It’s not that I don’t love them,” Lucien murmured, his heart pounding in his chest. “It’s that…I just—I wish they didn’t exist. They tie her to that place where she was hurt and I know they’re angry she left, too. They all think she should have stayed and endured Beron Vanserra and—”

Lucien was breathing so hard he thought his chest might cave in. Arina turned her head and poked him in the cheek.

“We could leave. Spend a week in another court?”

“And leave my father with four Vanserra’s? I know they’re only coming to spoil things for mother. No. We need to be here as a reminder of how much better off she is. That leaving them was the right thing to do—that she has a son who she wanted, and wasn’t forced on her.”

“Lucien,” Arina murmured again, but he shook his head.

“One day she’s going to realize they were rotten from the start. There was nothing she could do to fix them and no amount of bringing them around is going to free them from the Vanserra genes. I want to be here as a reminder that leaving was the right thing to do—and if she’d met my father first, she could have had more sons that weren’t such obvious and terrible disappointments.”

“So we throw her the most obscene party Prythian has ever seen,” Arina said with a smile. “I know Helion likes to celebrate her in the palace, but imagine the whole city celebrating their Lady. Given how Beron has never said one kind thing about her, I would imagine it would be difficult for his sons to enjoy themselves. And ruining it just proves everyone right about them.” Lucien straightened himself. “And it might convince them to even leave early.”

He felt as if he could breathe again. It was, perhaps, a devious plan—a cruel plan given how much her mother wanted to bridge the gap between her sons from her first marriage and her happy life now.

She didn’t understand how much better off she’d be without them. 

Lucien could show her though. He’d free her from Autumn.

Fear. Y’all I logged out of Twitter today wtf is going on-

(Dana art)

I am going insane.

Z E N O.

W H Y D I D Y O U D E L E T E I T.

I FUCKING SWEAR TO GOD

[screams externally too]

HAPPY NANO’S EVE

I am so not okay

HEARTSTOPPER S3 TRAILER HEARTSTOPPER S3 TRAILER OH MY GODDAMN DAYS I AM SOBBING AND LAUGHING AT THE SAME TIME AHJFKHRK-

NOOO I AM NOT READY FOR THIS AGAIN!!!

I already suffered the first time from reading the Manga. To witness it animated and for that freaky special grade ass to laugh at killing when he killed Junpei- NO

Gege when I catch you Gege-

imma about to un*live myself goodbye

Awakening 🕯️ (12)

After Kid and Teth found themselves in the Void, where Kid had regained his memories somehow, they end up returning to the Hidden Forest. While Kid is asleep, the Forest Elder thinks about the past, one which quite obviously wounds her enough to cover the sky with rainy clouds. Her thoughts are interrupted by Kid, who has woken up, and asks her why she is crying. What is strange however, is that he didn't refer to her as "ma'am", as he had consistently been doing before, but as "mom". Teth regains some courage and goes to find her dear friend, Lamed, as she seems to be ready to tell her the truth she wasn't capable of uttering years prior.

👀👀👀👀

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

the episode is an hour long?!?

Oh god, I’m gonna be a high school senior in like a week, I am NOT ready!!

WHAT???

EPIC THE CIRCE SAGA COMES OUT FEBRUARY 14th!!!

HERE IS THE TRAILER!!!!!!

I’m freaking out—

YouTube

EPIC: The Circe Saga 🪄✨🐷 Official Release Date Trailer

EPIC: The Circe Saga 🪄✨🐷 releasing February 14, 2024featuring Talya Sindel as Circe, Troy Doherty as Hermes, and Armando Julián as Eurylochu

first day of the semester: this isn’t so bad! maybe i actually won’t be an absolute mess this time around.

third day of the semester:

WAIT. I. AM. NOT. PREPARED

I’M NOT MENTALLY NOR PSYCHOLOGICALLY READY!!!!!!! 

like, when is Ducktales coming back? anyone?

Welp, gotta go cry in my lil dark corner again, I guess QwQ

Someone please prepare my funeral,

Ducktales season finale is tomorrow.

Ok now What's this about the special teahouse? 👀👀

oh god. oh god. oh god

ITS TIME FOR 109

AHAHAHAHAH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

My humble gift for the owl house fandom

Don't worry I'm in the grave too

sorry i was thinking about love death + rollerskates again