☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party Presents:

☕️ Tea, Chaos, and a World That Exploded ☕️

Well. Where do I even begin?

Picture this: I’m minding my own business, sipping something that tastes faintly of secrets (and no, not the kind that get you arrested… mostly), when suddenly the world - yes, the entire world - decides it’s done with existence. A place of flying cities, moonlit forests, dragons with commitment issues, and more immortals than anyone could catalog - one. Vaporized. Toast. Kaput.

And who do I have to thank for saving me during this delightful apocalypse? Naturally, chaos incarnate himself, Loki. Calm, smirking, with one eye amber and one gray, strolling into the maelstrom like it was a weekend stroll through a perfectly ordinary park.

The Chaos Was Astounding

First, the subtle stuff I remember: tremors, flickering skies, clouds that looked suspiciously like boiling soup. Then came the roar. Mountains crumbled like sandcastles, forests screamed themselves into oblivion, dragons flapped like frantic umbrellas, and every spell, potion, and magical contraption in the vicinity either backfired or spontaneously combusted.

Rumple was running around, muttering curses that could have powered a small volcano, clutching his impossible headlines as if sheer stubbornness could stabilize a collapsing continent. Classic.

I tried to keep my teacup steady. That lasted… approximately seventeen seconds.

Loki, Being Loki

Loki appeared, of course. I knew he would. Always does. His timing is immaculate and incredibly convenient. While the world was imploding, he strolled in and basically said:

“This is going to be spectacular.”

Yes. Spectacular. That’s the word he used while entire cities were folding in on themselves. Spectacular.

He moved with that ridiculous grace only he can manage, ripping open new portals with a snap of his fingers, scooping up the Immortal Gazette studio, my Rosehaven manor, the studios, some castles, some homes, and whoever happened to be screaming at the time.

NOTE TO SELF: Always scream loud enough for ancient God's and Godesses to hear you during an apocalypse!

Honestly, he probably saved a few dragons that were screaming about being left behind. Bless him.

Rumple barked orders at everyone as if he could organize a collapsing dimension. I rolled my eyes. Hard. And then I tried to figure out which of my tea leaves could predict the exact moment the world would vaporize completely. Answer: none.

Who Didn’t Make It

Some were lost. Sadly many. Presumed vaporized. Entire cities vanished. Dragons, witches, and others didn’t make it.

The rest of us? Plucked out of the chaos by Loki and some other gods and goddesses. Somehow, against all odds, we landed… somewhere. An unknown realm. Solid ground, breathable air, quiet enough to hear my own incredulity echoing back at me.

Adjusting To A New Realm

Inventory of survivors:

Myself, shaken, flown through the air at warp speed yet still fabulously intact. Teacup intact. Ego intact. Mostly.
Rumple, muttering about insurance and ownership of new studios like it’s a real priority in the aftermath of global apocalypse.
Dragons. Some angry, some bewildered, some deeply insulted by the whole “Loki saved you” situation.
Magic folks, Fae and Elevn Kin Testing their powers. Laughing nervously. Occasionally Screaming at each other. Classic.
Our Quills. Always ready to write, chronicling everything

And Loki? Gone. Vanished. Like a puff of absolute, untraceable mischief. I have approximately three feelings about this: frustration, admiration, and… mild crush. Maybe. Okay, definitely.

The Tea on Everything

If you’re thinking: “Alice, surely someone else could have handled this,” let me stop you. No. No one else could. Dragons? Flailing while getting vaporized. Vampires? Screaming. Witches? Exploding. Shapeshifters? Having identity crises. And I? I’m just the poor immortal-who-can-narrate, sip tea, and apparently survive the apocalypse.

So here we are. The old world is gone. Poof. Just Gone.

We’re here. Loki’s disappeared. Rumple is already claiming property rights over the new Immortal Gazette studio. Dragons are grumbling. Magic folk are muttering curses. And I… I am sitting here, tea in hand, marveling that we survived.

What Comes Next

Well, me, obviously. New studio. New realm. Same tea. Different hair. Same sarcasm. Same chaos-magnet friends. And yes, new stories. New legends.

So for now? I sip my tea. I watch dragons cautiously reorient themselves to solid ground. I grin, knowing that the stories aren’t over. Not even close.

- Alice

Survivor of the Apocalypse

✨ A tale woven from shadows, whimsy, and imagination. Purely for your delight - totally made up!