☕️ Alice Spills the Tea:

♤

The Forbidden Brew of Lady Belladonna

From the Quill of the Mad Tea Mistress

Gather ‘round, my mischievous muffins, because tonight I am serving a steaming cup of scandalous story steeped in wicked whispers and shadowed sips. This tale comes from the ink-slicked corners of the Twilight Herbarium, a long-forgotten apothecary once hidden beneath the Weeping Wisteria Trees of Crimson Hollow.

Yes, we’re diving straight into forbidden tea territory. Buckle your corsets.

Once upon a decidedly cursed moonrise, there was a witch named Lady Belladonna of the Thorned Teacup - and yes, that was her full, unapologetically dramatic title. She didn’t brew tea, darlings, she summoned it. Her potions disguised as floral brews could charm serpents, unravel secrets, and, rumor had it, make time skip backwards just long enough for you to un-say something stupid.

But her most legendary concoction? The Velvet Reversal. A brew said to undo any mistake, any heartbreak, any regret - if, and only if, you were willing to pay the tea's true price.

One evening, a mortal noble (read: emotionally constipated man-child) came galloping in, begging for a cup to erase a scandalous love affair that had gone terribly public and even more terribly poetic. The duchess was now pregnant, the tabloids were frothing, and his mustache was trembling with shame.

Lady Belladonna poured him a cup of shimmering violet tea that smelled like apologies and tasted like forgotten kisses. He drank.

And vanished.

Poof.

No more drama, no more noble, no more awkward family dinners. But he didn’t die, darling - no, no. The Velvet Reversal simply unwound his presence from time itself. Like he never existed. No one remembered him. Not the duchess. Not his pet falcon. Not even his favorite tailor.

But Lady Belladonna? She remembered. And she wrote his name on a little black napkin and tucked it in her spellbook… with about a dozen others.

They say she still brews Velvet Reversal tea for the truly desperate. But the price now? Oh, honey. It’s steeper than ever. (Pun absolutely intended.)

Moral of the story:
Sometimes it's better to face the fallout than sip your way into nonexistence. And always read the fine print on magically suspicious tea blends. Especially if they sparkle.

Alice, Queen of Ink & Lore
Weaver of Truth, Lies, and Stories

🪶 Pip’s Editorial Note from the Margins of Reality

Alright, mortals. Set the teacups down.

This is the part where I clear my throat, tap the parchment, and inform you that Alice absolutely made all of this up. Every last shimmering sip. Lady Belladonna. The Twilight Herbarium. The napkin collection of erased men. All fiction. Fabrication. A full theatrical flourish of nonsense with excellent pacing and zero historical accountability.

Before anyone starts emailing the Gazette or anywhere else asking where to find Velvet Reversal tea, you cannot. It does not exist. If it did, Alice would have already used it on at least three editors and one very loud poet.

Now, credit where it is due. The woman spins a charming lie. Vivid. Entertaining. Morally smug. She wants you to think there is a lesson here about consequences and accountability. Adorable. What there actually is, is Alice doing what Alice does best - stirring drama, adding sparkle, and pretending she is not enjoying herself immensely.

No witches were verified. No nobles were erased. No herbarium was located under any wisteria, we checked. Thoroughly. Twice. Rumple brought a shovel.

Enjoy the story for what it is. A delightfully scandalous cup of narrative mischief served hot and unapologetic. Just do not mistake it for lore, legend, or anything remotely factual.

And Alice, if you are reading this, stop winking at the footnotes. You are not subtle.

- Pip Senior Fact-Checker, Professional Buzzkill,
Still Not Drinking the Tea