#enchanting cup

[clickedge23]

(via Merry Christmas White glossy mug)

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Embrace the enchantment of the sea with each delightful cup! 🌊✨

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Enjoy your favorite beverages with a touch of magic! 🌟 

[zetterbabe]

salts (05.24.24)

[queer-ragnelle]

The Enchanted Cup by Dorothy James Roberts

[comparativetarot]

Ten of Visions. Art by Meraylah Allwood, from the Forest of Enchantment Tarot.

[beliscary]

he panicked coffee shop au + reincarnation + terence forgor but dion rember

[pennaraptor]

introducing: Sigourney, my juvenile female Psalmopoeus irminia

[sbd-laytall]

Look, say what you want about Troy and Gabriella as a ship, but the scene after they sang kareoake together where they talk about their singing experiences and Troy makes Gabriella laugh and they both look everywhere but each other when the countdown starts but after looking at the fireworks, they can't help but share a deep glance as they clearly think about kissing each other even though they don't and they fumble with saying goodbye and Troy says that singing with her has been the best part of his vacation? That slaps so hard.

[elliemarchetti]

Enchanted to Meet You

Hello @corcracrow, your Secret Santa here! I know I haven't filled you with questions as I would’ve liked, and you probably have the feeling of not knowing me that well, but unfortunately real life has hit hard both on my creative process and my free time. Anyway, I don’t want to spoil the mood for I'm very happy to reveal myself and I hope you likethe first chapter of the fic I have prepared for this year’s @acotargiftexchange

Plot: The Archeron sisters are prominent members of the Upper East Side, as are the Vanserras. Elain is fresh out of a disappointing relationship, while Lucien is the neglected seventh child of a couple who haven’t loved each other for a long time. Will they be able, after a chance meeting at a Christmas party, to build something they could cherish or will gossips and meddling families stifle the budding interest they feel for each other?

Words: 2241

Elain looked around, a glass of champagne held firmly in her right hand. The celebrations were going well, Feyre was having fun, laughing at a joke delivered by her new boyfriend, while Nesta twirled on the dancefloor like a ballerina in a music box, barely noticing her partner. It was the second Christmas party they attended this year, but since their business was booming, she guessed it wouldn’t be the last. At least the host picked some quality wine, a competent catering and classy live music. All the participants belonged only to the best families of the Upper East Side although, and she suspected not by mere coincidence, the Nolans were missing from the guest list. Some had already begun to whisper ill-will about their absence, but since the event was being held on one of Rhysand’s properties, Elain had the privilege to screen out those who were no longer welcome in her vicinity. She was aware she shouldn’t have been so naïve, a marriage proposal so hasty and at such a young age could only come from the heart when net worths like theirs weren’t at stake, but since she still struggled to figure out what to do with her feelings about it, she thought it wiser to let those social climbers stay in the dark place they called home.

Graysen had defined the architecture of his house as designer modern brutalism, but Elain, for the short time she had spent within its walls, had thought it nothing more than a luxurious prison. There were few windows, practically no natural sunlight, it didn’t have a balcony, a veranda, or even a garden, and although the underground swimming pool and spa had done their duty when she needed to relax, everything, including the obsessive order kept in the rooms by a bevy of maids she had never met, appeared fake. Like the love of its heir, after all, like the glittering gifts of his mother. There was no sentiment in everything they did, and since nothing was more distant from the teachings of her father, Elain had decreed that what happened before it was too late was for the best. Not that she would’ve completely ruled out the idea of a divorce if she found out after she married him that Graysen had joined their families only for financial benefit, but it was a nuisance she preferred to avoid, just like the fast-approaching gossips.

Luckily, someone was ready to save her, or so it seemed from the twinkle in the russet eye she met.

She knew Lucien Vanserra only by name, but his story was almost legendary and the reason most rich parents won’t let their kids go to public schools anymore, even if they were renowned and the courses were the best in the US: coveted heartthrob while still in college, a young professor not in her right mind developed a crush on his socially anxious best friend. When he’d rightly rejected her, she had decided to disfigure him with a kitchen knife. Lucien had been quick to push his mate away from the blade, but had been hit in turn, losing his eye and, despite countless surgeries, finding half his face permanently disfigured by a deep white scar, in stark contrast with his amber skin.

“I wanted to wait for some mutual acquaintance to do the honors, but given the situation it seemed like an appropriate time to come and introduce myself,” he said by a way of greeting, extending a manicured hand. The sleeve of his green jacket ran up a little, showing off a probably priceless watch, matched with the eccentric gold prosthetic with which he had replaced the missing eye.

 “We’ve really lost our manners these days,” Elain joked, offering him a firm shake. It was her mother who told her, before she died all those years ago, that a weak hand was a sign of a weaker character, and after the misunderstanding with the Nolans, she was determined to convey confidence in every detail of her being. That was why she had chosen the dress she was wearing, with a neckline not too exaggerated but not even as chaste as she would’ve once preferred, the skirt narrower on the hips, where previously would’ve been tulle and wide pleats.

“Who do you think is the rudest?” Lucien asked, scanning the people by the bar. Being caught red handed, those who had distracted themselves from their conversations to glance curiously in their direction suddenly turned back to their interlocutors, making Elain smile bitterly. She could already imagine what they would say about them at the next brunch they were going to attend, she could already hear them referring to Lucien as the Beast to Elain’s Beauty regardless of the fact he was extremely charming, his disability just a means to spout malice.

“After careful consideration, I think Keir wins the prize,” Elain admitted, glaring at a blond-haired man who was displaying his voluptuous daughter like a beast at the farmers market to a group of older guests. The young woman seemed incredibly uncomfortable but didn’t leave her father’s side until a scary guy, all cradled in black, asked her to dance.

“He has been trying for nearly a year to convince my father that she and my brother would be a good match, but I think Eris’s interest lies elsewhere,” Lucien replied, nodding at Nesta’s current dance partner. His hair was a little more orange than Lucien’s, way shorter but still long enough to be tied at his nape, and although his skin was lighter, the resemblance was uncanny despite the age difference.

“She’s a though nut to crack,” Elain warned him, wondering if at least this bachelor would last a few months with her. The previous suitor didn’t get to the end of the third, retreating in his chase because of her cold and detached attitude.

“Who knows, they might have found each other, then,” Lucien muttered, drawing a surprised laugh from Elain. She was happy not to be an only child, but sometimes being three sisters and with such different characters was a real challenge. She couldn’t imagine how Lucien managed to get along with everyone in his large family, although, being the seventh, it probably meant nobody paid him much attention.

“Are you as difficult as him?” she asked, once the silence stretched for a little too long. She was enjoying their conversation, the ease with which Lucien opened up, as if he wasn’t used to be associated with the same high-class circles as the rest of the presents. His quick remarks had the same taste as notes passed under the desk during boring lessons, thrilling and personal, even if they talked about nothing of substance, and his presence was grounding, capable of freeing her mind from unpleasant thoughts and calming her anxiety.

"If I want to, but fortunately it’s not something I have often to retort to,” he replied, before downing the glass of liquor in his right hand in a single sip. “And are you the gentles of the bunch as is rumored?”

Elain thought about it for a second. Regardless of how she wanted to behave, her nature wasn’t as wild and showy as Feyre’s or as relentless and demanding as Nesta’s: her qualities lay in diplomacy and understanding of her surroundings, she liked to observe more than act, and make thoughtful decisions to prevent mistakes. She was reserved, always composed, and knew how to keep her opinions to herself, but that didn’t make her any less dangerous, just easier to underestimate.

“I suppose so, or maybe I’m just really good at my job,” she replied, finishing the champagne herself and depositing the flute on an empty tray.

“Which, if I’m not mistaken, is sadly required,” he murmured in her ear, sending a shiver down her naked back. Elain followed his line of vision, and saw her father suspiciously pale and unsure on his legs.

Her eyes involuntarily rolled back in her skull. It was always the same damn story: he was the CEO of a multi-million-dollar company, not a small-town carpenter unfamiliar with open bars, therefore he should’ve known better than to get wasted before midnight, but punctual like a Swiss clock, he proved to be unable to complete even such a simple task. Elain didn’t expect him to suddenly stop drinking, despite all the help his daughters offered and the professionals they were handsomely paying, but she felt like it wasn’t too much to ask for him to not make a fool of himself at public events.

“I could show you where the backdoor is,” suggested her interlocutor, offering his arm with a wink of his good eye. “That’s where I usually sneak out from anyway.”

Convincing her father to move away from the corner of the room where he had retreated, probably in vain search of the poorly positioned bathroom, wasn’t as simple as it may sound, but once they succeeded, Lucien helped her to keep him upright, to make as few guests as possible notice his state.

“After you,” he told her with a polite smile, when they finally reached their destination, before opening the plastic door and bowing to let her pass like the humble usher of one of the luxurious hotels where he too surely used to stay when he did something his parents wouldn’t have approved of.

As soon as she stepped out, the acrid smell of New York immediately flooded her nostrils, and she was sure that if it hadn’t rained so heavily a couple of fat rats would’ve welcomed them back into the real world too.

“My usual luck,” Elain muttered, trying to keep from shivering in the cold. Her jacket had remained in the wardrobe, as to attract as little attention as possible, but the taxi Lucien had kindly called was at least a couple minutes away, so she could only hope that the thin fabric of her dress didn’t show off her nipples hardened by the winter air.

“My mother told me cream goes great with green,” Lucien whispered, and before Elain could ask him what the hell he was talking about, she felt the weight of his blazer settle on her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she murmured, meeting his gaze perhaps for the first time since they’d taken shelter under the tiny plastic canopy. He wasn’t pitying her, he wasn’t amused nor even annoyed, he simply seemed used to helping strangers in need and vaguely sorry that their time together had come to a premature end.

“No need to thank me Cinderella,” he replied, very tenderly, the corners of his mouth slightly raised. “But now we have to load your father into the carriage.”

The taxi had indeed arrived at the only exit of the dead-end street, as close as possible to its future passengers. The pouring rain didn’t take long to soak her hair, and Lucien’s white shirt stuck to his arms, the muscles tense from the effort. The cold seemed to have brought her father a little back to his senses, but his tremors, mixed with an innate lack of coordination exacerbated by the alcohol, weren’t helping.

“Your jacket…” Elain started, once she was seated, but the owner shut her with a shrug.

“See it as a reason to look for me if you ever want to see me again,” he replied, and with that, he closed the door, gesturing for the driver to start moving.

“Where am I taking you, miss?” asked the man, who was already taking the road furthest from the entrance of the venue to avoid the paparazzi camped nearby despite the adverse weather, when he realized she wasn’t going to give him directions soon, the girl too focused on the encounter she just had. Blushing for the embarrassment, and with her mind focused mainly on the heat emanating from Lucien, whose shadow remained on her in the form of his velvet jacket, she absentmindedly provided him her address.

In a moment of clarity, Elain forced herself not to be delusional. Such a handsome and charming guy was certainly already taken, or at least he had a roster of sexy lovers. But then why be so nice? Why help with her father? She was still up wandering the kitchen and asking herself questions she couldn’t know the answers to when Nesta returned home, fortunately alone.

“Judging by your state no redhead was lucky tonight,” she tried to joke, but Nesta’s expression was deadly grave and she plopped down on one of the chaises longues in the living room dimly lit by the fireplace.

“Do you think we should send him back to rehab?” Elain asked, sitting down on the expensive rug the subject of their conversation had bought on his last trip to the Middle East.

“I say give him a second chance, but only one,” she replied, her gaze following the dancing flames.

“You should’ve stayed at the party,” Elain scolded her, resting her head on her thigh, left bare by the deep slit of her dress. “The situation is under control.”

“I can’t have fun when I know you’re shouldering his addiction alone,” Nesta replied, stroking her still damp hair, destroying definitively the elaborate hairstyle. Elain didn’t say anything else, but for some reason, as Nesta recounted her version of the evening, her eyes kept slipping to the door in hope a certain gentleman would ring the doorbell just to say goodnight. 

[i3utterflyeffect]

i HATE being scared of bugs. how much better would my life be if i didn't have a paralyzing fear of them

[lilacskiesapothecary]

Cup of Enchantment

Chapter 1: Dreamer's Connection

GOJO X You

In the heart of the city's lively energy intertwined with the quaint charm of hidden streets, You, found yourself drawn to a small coffee shop with an intriguing sign that read, "Dreamer's Delight." The narrow entrance led you into a cozy haven, where the aroma of exotic teas filled the air, and soft whispers of possibility lingered.

Inside, the only other occupant of the café was Gojo, a charismatic man with a ice blue gaze that mirrored your curiosity. Your eyes met in a fleeting glance, an unspoken connection sparking between you two. The atmosphere felt charged with an unexplained energy, as if the universe had orchestrated your meeting.

The wise old woman behind the counter, her silver hair framing kind eyes, sensed the invisible thread weaving between you and Gojo. With a knowing smile, she approached you. "Welcome, dear ones. It seems fate has brought you together today. How about a cup of our special brew, the 'Dream Weaver's Blend'?"

You and Gojo exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. The proprietor prepared the magical tea with care, pouring the warm elixir into delicate cups. As you sipped the tea, a subtle warmth, with fragrant bergamot and cardamom enveloped them, leaving an indescribable sensation in its wake.

As you and Gojo sipped the Dream Weaver's Blend in the cozy confines of Dreamer's Delight, a transformative magic unfolded. The cafe, once bathed in the warm glow of ambient lights and the soft hum of conversation, began to radiate a subtle, otherworldly luminescence.

The air shimmered with an ethereal energy as the tea's magical properties activated. The dreamlike glow emerged from the very core of the cafe, casting a gentle radiance that danced across the walls adorned with plant vines and fairy lights. The colors seemed to intensify, taking on a surreal quality, as if the air itself was infused with the magic of possibility.

"Do you feel...?"

You started Gojo giving you a light smile encouraging you to continue. However you felt silly asking a stranger if they had strange feelings while drinking the tea.

"Never mind...lost my train of thought." You chuckled

"Well, if you ever find it... come find me." Gojo said with a grin, and winked with those icy blue eyes.

In a moment of contemplation, You watched as Gojo gathered his belongings, his movements echoing a silent farewell. The ambiance of the cafe seemed to hold its breath, as if acknowledging the transition from one chapter to the next. The plant vines that hung in the shop gently swayed, catching the last remnants of the magical glow.

You felt a bittersweet pang in your chest. The magical encounter had brought a moment of joy and wonder into your life, but now, it was time to face the reality outside the enchanting haven. With a decisive nod, you made the decision to leave.

As you stepped outside, the cool night air greeted you, and the bustling sounds of the city surrounded you. You scanned the area, half-expecting to find Gojo lingering just beyond the door. However, to your surprise, he was nowhere to be seen.

A moment of uncertainty washed over you as you gazed at the empty street. The glow from Dreamer's Delight spilled out onto the cobblestones, casting a faint light on the path ahead. You hesitated for a moment, contemplating the connection you had shared with Gojo and the connection it felt you both had woven together.

However the connection that had sparked in the coffee shop continued to grow as you and Gojo left Dreamer's Delight. You both couldn't shake the feeling that something extraordinary had been set in motion. The old woman's knowing smile lingered in your minds as you both went about the rest of your night.

In Gojo's cozy apartment, he moved through the familiar routine of winding down. The scent of the Dream Weaver's Blend lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of the enchanting moments shared with you. His fingers grazed the edge of his own nighttime cup of tea, tracing the memory of your laughter and the small connection you two had forged.

Meanwhile, in your own sanctuary, you got ready for bed with a sense of lingering magic. The echoes of Dreamer's Delight reverberated in your room, and the small potted plant you had placed by your bedside seemed to sway in response to the ethereal connection you had formed with Gojo.

As you fell into your slumber your dream built around you became something only magic could conjure up. In the dreamscape's enchanting meadow, bathed in the soft glow of otherworldly flowers, You found yourself standing alone, surrounded by the surreal beauty of the landscape. As you gazed across the meadow, a figure emerged in the distance, initially blurred by the dreamlike atmosphere.

The male silhouette moved closer, and a subtle recognition tinged with curiosity dawned upon you. The dream's magic seemed to lift a veil, revealing the familiar contours of the approaching figure. With each step, the details became clearer, and your eyes widened with realization.

Gojo with a smirk said "Did you find what was lost?"

🌸Thank you for reading 🌸 Don’t Forget to Check Out Our Shop🌟

We have a few Gojo Soaps left!✨

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[lovefrombegonia]

Ahem....CHAPTER 24 OF THOUSAND AUTUMNS IS WILDING WILDING!!!!?!

[snappiderg]

Spell iCUP

I guess the cup is quite large now... or at least very very full! xhhy17's powers sure are something!

[marshfeldman31]

A Goblin Tea Party

Scene: A Dimly Lit Glade in a Dense, Overgrown Forest

(Four goblins are seated around a rickety table adorned with mismatched tea cups and a teapot that's seen better days. The air is filled with the scent of over-steeped tea and mild trepidation.)

Gobnob: (Pouring tea, which looks suspiciously like mud) Now, remember, pinky out. That's how the fancy folk do it.

Snizzle: (Eyeing her cup suspiciously) I heard the fancy folk also drink tea that doesn't look like swamp water.

Grubwort: (Sniffing the air) Is it supposed to smell like a troll's laundry basket?

Muddles: Peace, friends! It's about ambiance, not aroma. Imagine, we are sophisticated beings partaking in high society's rituals!

Gobnob: (Grinning) Right, sophisticated! That's why I wore my best hat. (Points to a hat that appears to be made from an old boot.)

Snizzle: Sophisticated? I still have mud under my nails from yesterday's grub-digging fiesta.

Grubwort: (Takes a sip and grimaces) This tea tastes like it's been steeped in the tears of a disgruntled pixie.

Muddles: A touch of imagination, Grubwort. Imagine it's... an exotic blend from the far-off lands of... um, somewhere far-off.

Gobnob: Speaking of far-off, did anyone remember to invite the hobgoblin from the eastern marshes?

Snizzle: I thought you were going to do that!

Muddles: (Sighs) It appears our grand tea party is just us... again.

Grubwort: (Smiling) Well, at least we've got the best company. Who needs hobgoblins when you've got tea that could double as potion ingredients?

Gobnob: To us, the finest goblins in these woods!

(They all raise their cups, clinking them together, a chorus of laughter mingling with the clatter of teacups in the dim forest glade.)

[comparativetarot]

Nine of Visions. Art by Meraylah Allwood, from the Forest of Enchantment Tarot.

[jellys-compendium]

Imagine Nanami Kento waking up from anesthesia after surgery, his bleary and unfocused gaze landing on you (his wife) standing beside him and holding his hand in yours. You smile at him warmly, softly reassuring him that he's okay and that you're right here beside him as he stares at you silently.

Nanami looks down at your joined hands, his gaze seems to focus on the wedding band adorning his ring finger. He stares at it for a moment before looking back up at you.

"Who are you?" He slurs, his words sloshy and imprecise. So unlike him, and so very adorable. "Are you a nurse?"

You giggle at Nanami's question.

"No, I'm not a nurse."

Nanami seems puzzled at your response. His brows furrow as his fingers move against yours, thumb stroking across your knuckles in that gentle motion he always does to soothe you. Your smile widens. Looks like there are some things that even ketamine can't erase.

"Wow. You got the most gorgeous smile. Are you a model? You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my whole life. You got really pretty teeth too..."

Kento's fingers tighten around yours, his voice falling into a groggy whisper.

"But...I think I'm married. We shouldn't be holding hands like this."

You bite your lip, fighting against the bubbling laughter in your throat and failing.

"O-Oh?"

Nanami nods, his expression shifting from one of appreciative awe to adorable seriousness.

"I want to be a good husband."

Well that just about melted your whole damn heart. Even the hospital staff in the background can't repress their "awww"s and "that's a keeper"s.

"Don't worry, you are a wonderful husband, Kento. I know that for sure."

He's confused again, those unfocused honey brown's searching yours, trying to figure out the situation as best as he can given the circumstances.

"How do you know?"

You raise your left hand, bringing it into his line of sight and wiggle your ring finger, the golden band surrounding it captures Nanami's attention in an instant.

"Because I'm your wife."

Nanami's eyes instantly grow wide, his expression morphing into one of childlike wonder.

"You're my wife?"

You laugh.

"Yes."

He squeezes your hand with a surprising amount of strength given that he was knocked out cold not that long ago.

"We're really married?"

"Yes."

"Wow..." Kento breathes, drifting off for a moment before asking you another question. "Have we kissed yet?"

His innocent yet hilarious question sends you into another fit of laugher.

"Y-yes! Many times."

Nanami rewards you with a dopey smile, his gaze so utterly loving, enchanted by your unrestrained joy.

"My wife." He murmurs adoringly, his fingers reaching up to caress your cheek.

"I love hearing you laugh." His palm cups your face. "You really are so beautiful. I hit the jackpot, didn't I?"

Grinning from ear to ear, you press a tender kiss to Kento's fingertips before guiding his hand back down to the bed.

"Alright sweetest man alive, you need to stop talking before you make every person in this room fall in love with you. I'm going to grab a snack for us for later. I'll be right back, okay?"

Kento nods.

"Okay. Can I get another kiss when you come back?"

[mrs-snape5984]

Wir möchten noch dran glauben

Wie leicht es für uns wär

So nah, so nah und doch so fern