#talking with: enchant

[magic-is-something-we-create]

hallo, pax! i know it has been so damn long since i've spoke to ya. however, i'm dropping a virtual pat and high five for all the awesomeness you've been up to. and i root for you constantly even when i'm busy. ^-^ 💐💫💐💫 - ✨️ Enc

awwww, thank you enchant!!!! i'm rooting for you, too!!!! ❤❤❤

how's it been?? how's uni going?? it feels like its been forever since i've seen you around!!!

[uwhe-arts]

daydreaming . . . | uwhe-arts

[biowho]

Do you guys want to know the thing that pisses me off about Inquisition the most? If you play your cards right (have Alistair stay a warden and side with the mages instead of the templars) You can have Alistair and Fiona both at Skyhold at the exact same time and there's not a single interaction between the two of them. Which from Alistair's perspective is stupid because Fiona is a grey warden who's been cured of the blight and from Fiona's perspective is frustrating because she is his mother and she knows she's his mother

“Oh I shouldn’t talk to him because his father asked me not let him know he’s my son” Girly Maric’s dead and you have agency over your life. Get your ass to the courtyard and at least introduce yourself as the cured warden??????

[katelfiredemon]

List of some movies that I enjoy and the books they’re based on which often have different vibes than the movie but both are equally good in different ways

Howl’s Moving Castle: The book is titled the same but has very different vibes (movie is more whimsical fantasy while book feels more like realistic fantasy if that makes sense) and also has two companion books in which Howl and Sophie make appearances! Book by Dianna Wynne Jones

Kiki’s Delivery Service: The book is titled the same but again very different vibes (Movie Kiki deals with depression and losing your passion and Book Kiki is cute little witch dealing with people’s problems in cute little witch ways) Book by Eiko Kadono

Stardust: Book titled the same but different vibes (movie is intense and life threatening adventures, book is more fun travel adventures and much slower paced) Book by Neil Gaiman

The Secret of Moonacre: The book is titled The Little White Horse (similar to Stardust the book is a lot slower paced and less life threatening adventures but just as fun and interesting as well as a lot of characters have more depth to them than in the movie) Book by Elizabeth Goudge

The Last Unicorn: Book has same name (from what I remember the book is almost word for word exactly like the movie) Book by Peter S Beagle

Ella Enchanted: Book has the same name (ok this one is a little more controversial. In my opinion the book has a lot more depth and is a lot more interesting in the world building and characters, and the movie is a horrible adaptation. But if you look at the movie as a completely separate thing it is still enjoyable and has fun songs and is a classic from my childhood) Book by Gail Carson Levine

Mary and the Witch’s Flower: The book is titled The Little Broomstick (I have yet to read it but I have just checked it out so I will make sure to update this once I’ve read it! I expect the book will probably have better world building as the movie was fun but didn’t have time to go into depth and the mechanics of the witch’s world) Book by Mary Stewart

Earwig and the Witch: Book titled the same (I also have yet to read this book but have just checked it out and will update later. I think it’ll probably be similar to what I expect with the Little Broomstick where it will probably show a more developed world) Book by Dianna Wynne Jones

Ronja the Robber’s Daughter: Technically not a movie but a tv series. Book has the same name (I also haven’t read it but have just checked it out and will update but I think the show was very well done story wise though the animation wasn’t my favorite and I expect that it probably followed the book fairly closely) Book by Astrid Lindgren

Avalon High: Book has same name and similar plot but characters are switched around (this is actually one where I like the movie a lot better. I feel like the book is extremely predictable and does exactly what you expect to happen while the movie switches it up in a fun way that I feel like also makes sense and isn’t just doing it for the shock factor) Book by Meg Cabot

Tales From Earthsea: One book from the Earthsea Cycle has the same name (I’ve only read the first two books and so technically haven’t gotten to the book that the movie has been adapted from but it’s on my list and I will update once I eventually get to it. So essentially I’ve read the prequels that lead up to the events in the movie and I’ve heard the movie is vaguely different but has similar themes and plot points to the book) Books by Ursula K Le Guin

That’s all I can think of for now but if you have any suggestions to add let me know and I’ll see if I’ve watched the movie and read the books and if so I’ll make an addition to this post!

[laurapetrie]

You made a princess of me.

Louisa May Alcott, Little Women (1869)

[bleue-flora]

Ok, I recently wrote an essay [here] talking about the definition and duties of civil engineering as well as the ethics because of the brain rot @swordfright gave me with calling Dream Sam’s ultimate engineering project. So, because I actually am a civil engineer I took it upon myself to design the title and summary of quantities sheets just like I do at work for roads but with Dream as the project instead. And in honor of angst day sponsored by @sixteenth-day-event, I figured I’d share it because I feel like it kinda works for the prison of the mind prompt.

“Sam’s “ultimate engineering project” he deemed too damaged like a bumpy road or crumbling building that wasn’t worthy of patching and filling in the cracks or reinforcing, that’s too eroded to be fixed and preserved. So, Sam strived to tear him down to the bedrock so he could remake, remold, and reengineer Dream according to his design for the common safety, public health and well-fair.”

{These are very similar to the actual sheets I make day to day, which I shall not share for the sake of doxing my location, but yea pretty much everything has a significance. Some of it doesn’t necessarily make sense but that was because I was more so taking inventory of what we see in lore (so you know I counted ;) lol)}

[yesloulou]

F1 Live in London, 2017 🇬🇧

[thegreatimpersonator]

I WAS ENCHANTED TO MEET YOU | EDITING PROMPT OF THE MONTH: PINK

[kexing]

theo’s ass was NOT listening!!!!!!!!

[worstloki]

// Fortesa Latifi, The Truth About Grief //

[ghost-proofbaby]

Hi!! I’m your friendly neighborhood Swiftie BEGGING you for Eddie - Sparks Fly

sparks fly (eddie's version)

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff. mutual pining. the works. <3

wc: 2.1k+

a/n: this one got mad cheesy. maybe a little too cheesy. idc. i had fun with it.

“You know, one of these days, you’re gonna have to talk to Ed,” the older bartender, Phil, muses as he wipes down the counter behind you. 

You hardly hear him over the current symphony of electric guitars, riveting bass, and crashing drums filling the Hideout. You had one focus tonight, just as you did every Tuesday and Friday night, and that was the band on the stage currently commanding an even larger audience than last week. 

You’d seen it coming. Building crowds, more buzzing conversations around town in hushed tones about the band that owned the stage of the hole in the wall. You’d stumbled upon them by accident, coming in and telling yourself you were just grabbing one drink after a particularly rough shift. But one drink immediately turned into four that night when the band had taken the stage, playing song after song, keeping you glued to that bar stool and completely enamored with one particular boy on stage.

Eddie Munson. 

Every time you watch him command that stage, wild hair and vibrant eyes, it’s like the first time all over again. You can’t get over his wicked grin, the way he puts his entire self into each performance, the rasp of his voice – you’re down bad for a man you’ve never even properly spoken to.

By some miracle, you tear your eyes from the stage, swiveling to face Phil, “Excuse me?” 

“Ed. You know, Eddie,” he repeats himself, leaning both palms on the bar, “He notices you, you know? Always asks me where you ran off to after their set’s done.” 

Your heart is suddenly in your throat, embarrassment red hot in the pit of your stomach, “H-He notices me? Why would he notice me?” 

“You’re at every show. Even before they started getting a proper crowd. The damn boy hasn’t shut up about you since that first night,” Phil pauses to hand off a beer to another patron wordlessly, “You’re lucky you pay with cash and not card, or I’m sure he would’ve tracked you down outside of here by now. Calls you his Cinderella.” 

Like a clock chiming midnight, the final tinny note of the set rings through the bar, and you can hear that rasp of Eddie’s voice booming through the speakers.

“We have been Corroded Coffin! Thank you very fucking much!” 

And just like clockwork, you’re rushing to dig into your purse, yanking a twenty from your wallet and smacking it onto the bar before grabbing your drink to down the last of it. 

“I’m not Cinderella,” you choke out over the residual burn of the alcohol, face still scrunched up as you glance over your shoulder to see the boys have already left the stage, “I just like the music.” 

“The music,” he hums, “Right. Well, your money’s no good here tonight, little miss Cindy,” he reaches out, and with a singular fingertip, pushes the cash back towards you over the sticky wood. When your mouth opens and closes in confusion, Phil’s eyes flicker up towards the side door beside the stage where a commotion has begun, signaling that the band is coming out, “It seems the music likes you, too. So much so that he demanded I add your drinks to his tab tonight.” 

The coals of embarrassment burn even brighter, igniting you from the inside out. Your hand flies out, grabbing back the twenty and shoving it aimlessly in your purse. You keep looking back at the crowd, catching glimpses of dark curls over the small sea of people singing their praises, watching your seconds run out in real time. It’s not that you didn’t want to speak to the man who has had you captivated for several months now; you were just mortified that he’d noticed you in that crowd, noticed the way you attended each show. 

One of these days you’d talk to him. But tonight, you had no bravery left for such boldness. 

“You’re gonna have to leave behind a glass slipper for the boy eventually,” Phil only chuckles, watching you fumble to clasp your purse before you shoot up from the stool, “Hey, hold on-”

“Another night, Phil!” you call out, not even looking back as you make a beeline for the bar’s exit. 

If you had, you would have seen your favorite ring that Phil was holding up, the one that you had taken off your finger to fiddle with endlessly before sitting it down at some point without thought, now left behind like some kind of glass slipper. 

—

You were late. It was Friday night, the day had been a nightmare, and you were fucking late to Corroded Coffin’s show. 

Your attendance had never faltered like this before. You were always right on time, sometimes five minutes early once the crowds doubled in size in order to secure one of your regular seats. 

The deviation from your routine has you reeling, amongst other things. Your Friday had simply been shit.  A nonstop rampant attack on your sanity, one thing after another testing what was left of your patience. You’d slept through your first two alarms this morning, you hadn’t realized you were out of coffee creamer until you’d grabbed the scarily light container of it this morning, you had to take a dreadfully cold shower rather than waste precious minutes letting the water warm, you’d worked through your lunch to clean up a mess made by your coworker – the list goes on and on. 

You burst through the entrance of the Hideout, probably looking a bit crazed, stopping dead in your tracks when you realize two things.

One, It’s fairly empty. And two, Corroded Coffin is not on the stage. 

“Look who decided to show!” Phil calls from his place behind the bar, waving dramatically to you, “Cinderella!”

“Phil, for the last time, I’m not-”

“Your favorite band canceled tonight, I’m afraid,” he bulldozes right over your retort as you approach one of your usual stools.

Your brows furrow, “Canceled? Is everything okay?” 

Phil’s mouth opens. But it’s not his voice that answers you. 

“Gareth’s sick.”

A voice you’d only heard on the stage, through crackling speakers and enthusiastic addresses to a crowd. A voice you had never heard one-on-one, and for good reason. 

Your breath escapes you as you turn slowly, facing the man you’d managed to elude for months now. 

“Pardon?” you squeak out, voice hardly audible. 

Eddie still grins shyly, hearing you loud and clear due to how uncharacteristically quiet the bar is tonight, “Our drummer, Gareth – he’s, uh, sick. Sorry to disappoint.” 

He’s just as captivating up close as he is on the stage. There’s still something wild in him, something electrifying that he seems completely unaware of. 

“Don’t apologize,” you’re still whispering, internally cursing yourself for it. You probably look ridiculous right now; you can only picture your starry eyes and parted lips, looking at him with palpable shock, hardly able to utter a word, “I- I’m not disappointed. There’ll be other shows!” you stammer your way through your words, and when Eddie only continues to look at you with gentle amusement, the softest ripple of possible nerves from the way his hands shoved into his pockets, you continue to over explain yourself, rambling on, “I just- I, uh, hope he feels better.”

“Yeah, me too,” he nods in agreement before he buries his hands even deeper. Suddenly, as if he’s found something in those pockets, his face lights up in delight, “Oh! Hey, I-” his left hand pulls out of his pocket at lightning speed, still curled into a fist as he thrusts it into your direction, “I think this might be yours.” 

Slowly, he unfurls his fingers, and in the center of his palm rests your ring. You had assumed it was lost to the fire, that it might have fallen off at work or outside your apartment, never to be found again. Just another thing to add to your checklist of things gone wrong. 

And yet there it was, like a perfect glass slipper, right in the palm of Eddie’s hand. 

Your nerves are all but forgotten as you get giddy, reaching out without thinking to take the ring from him. A gentle brush of your fingertips against this palm, and you swear you feel sparks flying from the minimal contact, “Oh! Oh my gosh! Thank you, I-” you slip it on easily, smiling widely before you look up at him gleefully, “I thought I’d lost it for good. Thank you.” 

Eddie turns bashful, tilting down his chin and letting stray curls fall in his face that half hide his own contained grin. If the lighting in the bar had been better, you would have caught the pink spreading across his cheeks. 

“And so the prince finally meets his Cinderella,” Phil mutters from behind the two of you before he suddenly smacks his palms on the countertop, “Alright! Well, if you two will excuse me, I have to…. Do some stock count in the back,” a blatant lie, “Don’t burn the place down, yeah?” 

Eddie snaps out of his daze to look up to the older man, mock saluting him in a way that has an involuntary giggle leaving your lips. In an instant, he’s looking back down to you, almost surprised at the sound. 

Cheap bar lighting can no longer hide his blush. Or your own adoration.

“The bar is yours! Make good decisions!” Phil continues to shout as he moves to the backroom, voice fading with each step.

Finally, you and Eddie are alone. 

“And then there were two,” he murmurs, taking a step closer to you, finding something brave in him at the way you’re looking up at him in reverie. 

The rockstar that had been enchanting you for months from a distance. The man who had been occupying all your thoughts far too much for having been a stranger. 

This is your chance. No more hiding at the back of the bar, only admiring him with the safety of a crowd between you two. No more wondering, no more imagining, no more pining. Time stands still, not a single clock daring to strike midnight as the electric currents between you two come to a rise. 

“Say,” you say right when he looks to be preparing himself to speak first. It’s time to be bold, take a risk, no matter the costs. “Do you… Do you want to grab a drink?” 

His wicked grin is even better right in front of you, directed at you, “Well, he did say the bar is ours. What’s your poison?” 

“Jack and coke?”

He shrugs, still a vibrant fool, like a schoolgirl with a crush, “I’ve been known to have a heavy hand with the jack, but… I think I can manage that.” 

Electrifying, pulsing, the beginning of something new. You can see it now – the way you’re going to cling to his arm when he makes you laugh so hard you nearly fall off your chair, the way he’ll be able to charm you better over a jack and coke than he ever had been able to from behind a guitar, the way those eyes scream trouble. And yet at the end of the night, you know he’ll still walk you to your car through the empty parking lot. He’ll probably use the excuse of the bad weather looming overhead. When the sky finally breaks open and the first drops of rain fall, neither of you will be brave enough to admit what you both already know. Tonight’s not the night for kisses in the rain or talk of what-ifs. 

That’s fine. For tonight, the sparks of something new are enough. 

Eddie moves to walk behind the bar, but you throw out a reckless hand to catch him. Your first curls around his forearm for the first time tonight, and even with the layer of leather that separates skin, you can feel it. “Hey, did you really call me your Cinderella?” 

Flashes and arrays of what’s to come flood both of you. It’s only the first drink. It’s only the first night.

It won’t be the last. 

“I mean,” he nods subtly down to the hand holding him, where your ring glitters on your middle finger, snug on your knuckle, “If the ring fits, right?” 

He’s right. The ring fits. 

And a different ring fits years later, after all those kisses in the rain and many more jack and cokes that Eddie never quite perfects. And you’re still right where you belong, front row at every Corroded Coffin show, Eddie’s own personal Cinderella. When the clock strikes midnight, he’s no longer afraid – he knows you’ll be coming home to him now. 

Phil only laughs when he receives the invite, chuckling to himself at the chosen theme for the two idiots that once haunted his bar who now had moved onto bigger and better things.

A gothic fairytale wedding, on a Tuesday night. How fitting.

"you touch me once and it's really something. you find i'm even better than you imagined i would be."

[magic-is-something-we-create]

Hey, Pax! Just sending some flowers in your inbox. 🌺 🌷 🌼 🌺 🌷 🌼 🌺 🌷 🌼 Along with good 🌌 vibes 🌌 and good luck to ya! 🍀🍀🍀^-^ - 💫 Enc

Hi Enchant!!!! Thank!!!! Here are some vibes and flowers for u too <3<3<3 ✨🔮🌸🌷🌻🌻🌺🌹🍀🌌

[gofloresgo]

[roberrtphilip]

I just want her to be strong, you know? To be able to face the world for what it is. That's why I don't encourage the fairy tales. I don't want to set her up to believe in this "dreams come true" nonsense.

[blamemma]

Daniel Ricciardo with fans | 11.9.23 | ft. Enchanté Records

[zeb-z]

also can I just say. the difference between the joy of fit and bagi having a full day with blue, getting acquainted with the base, reuniting with their loved ones, all relieved to have more materials and more of a team - and then the absolute misery of etoiles and roier, moving the few valuable possessions red has to a new base that got immediately discovered anyway, losing all their gear, getting it back, then burning it themselves before killing eachother, is just so fucking funny. the new blues had freshman orientation while the new reds had a trial by fire canon event