📖 🔥 The Immortal Gazette: Rumplestiltskin's New Meltdown Over Alice's Blog
The air in the studio crackled with tension, a silence thick enough to choke on. Loki sprawled across the couch, an irritatingly calm smirk on his face, eyes twinkling as he sipped a drink that could’ve been 99% poison and 1% delicious—just the way he liked it.
Rumplestiltskin stormed into the studio, his cape swirling behind him like a storm cloud ready to unleash. His normally composed appearance was unhinged, his face a mask of frustration. He was holding his head in his hands as if he’d just discovered the world had a fatal flaw he’d been blind to.
“WHAT. IS. GOING. ON. HERE?!” Rumple's voice was a low growl, each word dripping with a mix of disbelief and fury. “This place—this so-called ‘Immortal Gazette’—is spiraling into utter chaos, and I’m the one left to pick up the pieces?!”
Loki didn’t even blink. He took another slow sip, clearly enjoying the show. “Oh, Rumple, I’m thrilled to see you’re awake today. Wasn’t sure how long you’d sleep through this.”
Rumplestiltskin spun around, his eyes wild. “Don’t you dare make light of this, Loki!” He pointed a finger at the air, the gesture punctuated with crackling energy. “It’s Alice. That fool and her godforsaken Mad Tea Party Blog! She’s out there, putting her fingers all over the Annunaki, the Nephilim, the Watchers—hell, even the stupid tea, and turning it into some kind of... of... absurd spectacle! It’s not right! We should be the ones owning the stage—writing the stories that matter!”
Loki’s grin widened, savoring every word like a glass of fine wine. “Oh, I see. It’s Alice that’s the problem now. Not that you’ve been sitting on your hands all week while the world burns. Or that you are responsible for half of this nonsense.”
Rumplestiltskin’s nostrils flared, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Don’t start with me, Loki. I’m not in the mood for your nonsense today. I’m talking about good stories—stories with substance! I want depth! The Annunaki? The Watchers? The Nephilim? I mean, you can’t even take one of them seriously without her over there ruining it with her teas, and cakes, and that nonsensical obsession with those ridiculous biscuits.”
Loki stretched his arms, settling deeper into his seat as though he'd never been more at home. “You know, Rumple, I’ve been hearing wonderful things about her blog. Apparently, her ‘time-traveling biscuits’ are all the rage. They’re creating real chaos across the realms. Maybe you should try one. They’re apparently made of immortal flour or some nonsense like that. Quite a subversive snack.”
“I’m NOT in the mood for biscuits, Loki!” Rumple snarled, eyes narrowing. “I’m talking about powerful stories—tales that will echo through the ages. Something with a little bite. You know, the kinds of stories where gods fight ancient beings for control, and the fate of the universe is on the line. Not... this!” He waved his hands around, as though trying to physically banish the absurdity of Alice’s blog from existence.
Loki raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “And you think you’re the only one who can deliver such tales? Please. The Annunaki story—what a classic. Alice? She’s bringing them down to the mortal level, giving them a nice little tea party where they talk about their day. Who wouldn’t want to read that?”
Rumplestiltskin’s face turned beet-red. “But it’s wrong! I spent decades weaving the mythologies, the bloodlines, the secrets—and now this madwoman is acting like she’s writing the ultimate drama with her tea cakes and whispered prophecies? We’ve built worlds, Loki! Worlds! And she’s making a mockery of it with her fluff!”
Loki leaned forward, his grin turning more mischievous. “Fluff, you say? Or are you just... jealous, Rumple? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like someone’s upset that Alice has become the queen of the blogs, and you—well, you’re just the king of sour faces.”
Rumplestiltskin froze mid-rant, eyes flickering. For a moment, the fury in his expression shifted. He clenched his fists and growled. “You think this is about jealousy, Loki? I don’t do jealousy. This is about respect! This is about legacy! She’s walking around acting like she can rewrite history with her silly stories and her teapot, and what am I supposed to do? Sit back and watch as my—our—stories get butchered in the name of tea time?!”
Loki leaned back, crossing his legs, a devilish smile creeping across his face. “Oh, I think you’ve got it, Rumple. It’s about legacy. About your legacy. You’re jealous that Alice is out there making waves, writing stories that have people laughing, thinking, feeling. And here you are, all brooding in your corner with your big, bad tales... looking for something that will stick.”
Rumplestiltskin sputtered, trying to gather his thoughts, but Loki was relentless.
“Admit it, Rumple. You’re mad because she’s taking the gods, the mythical beings, and bringing them to life with fun, with wit. And you can’t stand it because you want all the power—all the control. But, let’s be honest, it’s her that’s stealing the spotlight now. You can’t handle that, can you?”
“Shut up, Loki,” Rumplestiltskin muttered, eyes blazing. “I’m serious.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Loki replied casually, picking at his nails like this was just another ordinary conversation. “But don’t you think it’s a little... old? The brooding, the doom and gloom? You’re still waiting for someone to come along and sing the song of your greatness, when maybe... just maybe, Alice is writing the stories everyone wants to hear.”
Rumplestiltskin seethed, taking a deep breath as he held himself back from throwing something at Loki’s smug face. “Fine. Fine. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should try something new. But—if I’m going to write these better stories, I need you on board, Loki. Tell me, who’s in charge of picking the damn stories around here, huh? Who?”
Loki smirked, leaning back as he relished the moment. “Oh, that’s easy, Rumple. I’m the one who makes sure you don’t burn everything to the ground while you’re busy sulking. But hey, if you want to write stories that matter, I’ll happily let you try. I’ll be here, watching the meltdown.”
Rumplestiltskin’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “One day, Loki... one day, I’ll write a story that puts everyone in their place. And when I do, no one—no one—will dare question my stories ever again.”
Loki chuckled, settling back into the couch, eyes sparkling. “Well, when that day comes, Rumple, I’ll be the first to buy a front-row ticket.”
And so, the studio settled into an uneasy silence once again. Rumplestiltskin was lost in thought, his mind swirling with the potential of his next big story. Loki, of course, was enjoying every second of the show—because, in the end, no one ever did melodrama quite like Rumplestiltskin.
After the dramatic meltdown in the studio, Loki leans back and gives a knowing look to Rumplestiltskin, who’s now pacing, his mind racing with the idea of outdoing Alice's latest tea party blog fiasco. There’s a spark in Rumple’s eye—he’s ready to write something big, something that will make everyone sit up and pay attention.
Loki raises an eyebrow, amused, and stretches lazily on the couch. "Well, you can’t just sit there all day brooding and stewing. We need a story that’ll knock their socks off. A real showstopper, don’t you think?"
Rumplestiltskin stops mid-step, his mind finally catching on. He eyes Loki suspiciously. "I’ve got it. We’ll tell a story that redefines the ancient, immortal struggle. A story where the past isn’t just dead and buried—it’s alive, ready to come back and bite them all. This one will have power, drama... and betrayal.”
Loki perks up, intrigued, his fingers tapping on the arm of the couch. "Betrayal, huh? That's your game now?"
Rumplestiltskin’s lips curl into a wicked grin. "You bet. And it’ll start with them—the gods who think they’ve won. The ones who buried the truths. The ones who locked away a power they didn’t understand, but should’ve feared." He pauses dramatically. "It’s time for the gods of the Old World to face what they’ve hidden."
Loki’s grin spreads wider as he leans forward. “Ooooh, this sounds juicy. So, what—some ancient deities come back from the dead, angry, hungry for revenge?”
"Exactly," Rumplestiltskin replies, his voice low and full of dark excitement. "But here’s the twist: these gods aren’t just coming back for revenge. No, no. They’ve been manipulating the fabric of time, secretly feeding off the chaos of the realms for centuries. They've created a powerful force—an army of the forgotten—the Nephilim."
Loki raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “So... an army of fallen angels or... something like that?”
"Not just fallen angels, Loki," Rumplestiltskin says, stepping closer to the desk. "These Nephilim were born of betrayal and cursed from the start. Half-god, half-human, they were never meant to exist. But now, they’ve awoken and their mission is to undo the gods' tyranny over the mortal and immortal worlds."
Loki’s smile turns into something almost predatory. "Mmm, I like it. An army of betrayed children of the gods, ready to tear the place apart. But what’s the kicker? I mean, what’s the thing that makes this more than just another apocalypse story?"
Rumplestiltskin pauses for a moment, letting the suspense build. Then, he leans in close, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "The Watchers, Loki. The Watchers—the ancient beings who once guarded the secrets of the universe. They've been silently watching all this time, waiting for the moment when the balance is tipped. But what they didn’t expect? The Nephilim have already infiltrated their ranks. Some of the Watchers are in on it."
Loki’s eyes gleam with wicked delight. "A secret within a secret? So, it’s not just about the Nephilim versus the gods—it’s a war between those who created them and those who’ve been hiding behind their own lies.”
Rumplestiltskin’s grin widens as he paces again. "Exactly. And the best part? The Nephilim don’t care about the gods’ petty games. They’ve formed their own allegiances, their own alliances with mortals who’ve been wronged—heroes who’ve fallen through the cracks of time. It’s a war of forgotten gods, desperate mortals, and a bloodline of broken angels.”
Loki sits up, clearly hooked now. "Alright, I’m in. But tell me, who’s the main player in all this mess? The one we should all be watching?"
Rumplestiltskin’s face grows darker, almost sinister, as he pulls a parchment from the desk, the ink swirling as if alive. "Her name is Aurelia. A Nephilim born from the blood of a god and a human sorceress. She’s the key to everything. If she falls... everything will. If she rises? Well, let’s just say the old gods might want to pack their bags."
Loki chuckles, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, great. Another brooding, tragic heroine with a god complex. I can already see the teaser trailers.”
“Shut up, Loki,” Rumplestiltskin snaps, a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “She’s not just some tragic heroine. She’s the wild card—the catalyst. And, just to make things interesting... she doesn’t know she’s the one pulling the strings. Yet.”
Loki leans back again, clearly enjoying the chaos unfolding. "Oh, Rumple, I can already hear the clicks of the readers. I can see the title now: ‘The Nephilim’s Shadow.’” He leans forward, dropping his voice dramatically. “‘When gods die, the real war begins.’”
Rumplestiltskin smirks, the tension easing slightly. “That’s the one. Perfect.”
“Well, well,” Loki stretches again, “looks like I’ll need to pour another drink. This could be a very fun mess to watch unravel. Especially when the gods realize they’re not in control anymore.”
Rumplestiltskin’s grin returns, dark and mischievous. “Oh, it’s going to be more than a mess, Loki. It’s going to be the story that resets everything.”
And as the two of them sat there, plotting the downfall of gods and the rise of the Nephilim, one thing was clear: their next story would be a storm of betrayal, chaos, and immortality—a storm that would shake the very foundations of the realms.
With the Nephilim story set in motion, Loki looks over at Rumplestiltskin, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Alright, that’s all well and good, but what’s the next story? You can’t just have one big plotline running. We need variety—like, spice things up a bit. I’m not saying let’s abandon our beloved gods and their Nephilim drama, but what about mixing in a little... chaos on the side?"
Rumplestiltskin cocks his head, deep in thought. "You’re right, Loki. We need something... personal this time. Something that hits close to home for all the immortals. A story that challenges them, makes them doubt their own reality. Let’s bring in someone who’s been hiding in the shadows for too long."
Loki raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Do tell."
Rumplestiltskin leans forward, his voice taking on a low, conspiratorial tone. "We’re going to tell the tale of Aeryn the Shadowbinder—an immortal so ancient and so powerful, no one remembers she even exists. She was once one of the greatest sorceresses of the Old World, but she vanished, lost to time, when the gods decided they didn’t need her anymore. They erased her memory from every realm, every scroll, and every mind—but Aeryn? She never forgot."
Loki grins widely. "Ah, I see. A woman scorned by the gods, huh? Love it. So, what—she comes back to remind them why they shouldn’t mess with her?"
Rumplestiltskin nods. "Exactly. But here’s the kicker: she’s been living among mortals, hiding in plain sight. She’s built a quiet little empire in the shadows, pulling strings, manipulating the course of history without anyone knowing. But now, the gods have started to feel her influence again. And they’re not happy."
Loki’s grin widens. "This is good. I’m loving the power play here. What’s Aeryn’s goal? Revenge? A little light chaos?"
Rumplestiltskin taps his fingers together, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Aeryn has one goal: to remake the world in her image. She doesn’t care about gods or kings—she wants to reshape everything. Bring everything that’s been buried and forgotten back to the surface. And she’s going to use every last thread of magic at her disposal to do it."
Loki sits up, clearly excited. "And the best part? She’s got no loyalties."
"Exactly," Rumplestiltskin replies, his smile dark. "Aeryn’s alliances are as shifting as the wind. She’ll play anyone, betray anyone, and turn anyone to dust if it gets her closer to her goal."
Loki chuckles. "You know, I’m starting to think I want to be on her side."
Rumplestiltskin gives him a sideways glance. "Oh, you’d be fun in her corner. But don’t forget—Aeryn plays a dangerous game. And no one, not even you, Loki, can predict where she’ll strike next."
Loki’s eyes sparkle with mischief. "That’s why it’ll be so much fun to watch. So, when do we drop this bombshell?"
Rumplestiltskin leans back, satisfied with their latest plot. "Soon. It’s time to remind everyone that immortality isn’t always about control—it’s about freedom. Freedom to destroy, rebuild, and tear down everything in your path."
Loki gives a nod of approval. "Alright, Rumple, I’m in. Let’s do this. And this time? We’re really going to mess with their heads."
And as they prepare to launch their next tale of chaos, power, and betrayal, the stage was set for an even deeper plunge into the mysteries of immortality—one that would leave readers questioning everything they thought they knew.
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