#i indeed create obvious chaos.

[i-create-chaos]

HEY. FAMILY. I EXIST. CAN SOME ONE SEND ME WEIRD ASKS PLEASE? @nanochittle @gibbish-anon-from-gell @google-news-official @shakespeare-official-account @thesmallestclown @therealraphael @gnomiwizard @wanderinginkdemon

(yes were all mutuals. Don't try to guess my identity lol)

[i-create-chaos]

The chaos keeps me alive.

I keep thinking Tumblr has run out of losers who think I'm funny but you guys keep coming. What is wrong with you all

[i-create-chaos]

So you don’t wanna eat trees? Fine. Eat a highlighter instead, it has more nutritious value.

~ thy mother/niece (what the hell is going on)

But I could use the highlighter to high light unrelated information in text books :(

Ive no children! I have a mother (@shakespeare-official-account) but that is it.

[dev1lm4n]

all glory

masterlist | kofi (support me here!)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel has been feeling insecure, finding it hard to come to terms that he's indeed aging. tommy suggests a clever solution: a post-apocalyptic glory hole

word count: 4.8k of pure filth

warnings: minors dni (18+), post-outbreak, joel is 56 here hehe hot old men, insecurities, glory hole, fingering, unsafe piv, slight breeding kink, no pregnancy stuff tho cuz im terrified of that, reader calls him sir, pet name (darling)

note: i decided to create a kofi bcs im a broke college student lol. anyways hope yall enjoy this, do COMMENT and REBLOG if you enjoyed this :)

Joel Miller had always been a man of confidence.

Being left as a single father for Sarah at an early age, he’s been through thick and thin, trying his best to make ends meet so that they wouldn’t have to end up in one of those run-down shelters. But never once did he question his ability to attract women. 

He’s always had it in him. With a mere glance from his expressive eyes, he can ensnare hearts and leave an everlasting impression on anyone fortunate enough to encounter him. Rugged masculinity and striking refinement; a deathly mix that kept girls swarming after him like bees. After the world descended into chaos, he’s not much different either. Perhaps the bone-deep trauma had left him looking eternally exhausted with sunken eyebags, or that gray filaments started becoming a welcomed addition to his beard, but all in all he’s still charming.

He didn’t have to seek, because people seek for him. Joel had plenty of erotic rendezvous in times where society crumbled and the rule of law eroded, more so now that everyday could be his last and he didn’t have the privilege to take it slow like a true Southern gentleman. He’s done it everywhere. Inside a stuffy closet while hiding from a clicking monstrosity, behind a thin wall while her husband sat cluelessly on the other side, and even taking sexual compensation for his little business. Joel Miller wasn’t a saint. Neither he one for God and he’d like to make it obvious.

Nowadays though, within the tall foreboding walls of Jackson City, that type of attention has faded away. He’s no longer getting those longing stares from across the floor, no longer being begged to corrupt just for some extra wad of cards, no longer being flirted and fawned over like a goddamn stud. Joel didn’t have any problem with it at first. He’s growing old. Instead of those naughty strands of white peeking out of his head, he’s now a complete mix of salt and pepper. Instead of just having a fun smile line, forehead rolls and crows’ feet are now imprinted deep into every crevice. Joel wasn’t the man he used to be. 

He’s weathered away, he thought, unsuited for fun and adventure.

Perhaps it had something to do with his daughter as well. Even when Ellie’s not from his actual blood, everyone in town viewed her that way. He’s her father. Thus, everyone seemed to perceive and treat him as merely a father and not as an actual person that has his own needs and wants. Joel loved his daughter. Terribly so in ways he couldn’t decipher. A part of him has made up his mind that this would be how he should spend the rest of his life: in celibacy. Though the retirement of his sexual and romantic life has slowly taken a toll towards his self-esteem. Tommy, who’s always known to be rather slow and imperceptive, was surprisingly the first one to take notice of his gradual change.

“Maria told me you might be here.”

Tommy’s gruff voice brought him out of his trance. Joel looked up, meeting the familiar figure crouch to get into his little workshop. It was his newfound hobby these days, becoming a hermit and isolating himself from the community. He’d craft a wooden figure or two each night while he relived each and every one of his memories. Good and bad. Of death and of birth. Then by the end of the night he’d feel mildly satisfied with a wooden sculpture shaped like memorabilia from the old world. Joel couldn’t admit it outloud, but insecurity had taken over him. It festered deep into his soul that he couldn’t even bear looking at himself in the mirror anymore or present himself to society.

“Yeah, just..” he paused to ponder on a better way to answer. “Just doin’ my own thing.”

“You skippin’ dinner again?” Tommy’s curiosity sounded oddly suspicious, enough that Joel already knew he’s about to say something obnoxious or entirely uncalled for. The older quirked his thick eyebrows in return.

“Made myself my own plate,” Joel cocked his head towards where a lone plate sat. Judging from the crimson stain smeared on top, it must’ve been one of those canned pastas that he picked out.

“Brother..” Tommy started out, visibly nervous of how his brother would take it. “Is there something wrong?”

“With me?”

“Yeah, with you.”

“No, not that I could think of,” Joel hummed. “I ain’t bitten or anythin’, why are ya asking such a dumb question anyway?”

“You’re just different these days,” Tommy reasoned with a small frown. “You barely come out of your house and if you do, you’re huddled up in this place, carving things for hours on end.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with wanting to be alone. Is there?” he challenged.

“No, but you’re.. different. Almost like your mind’s troubled for once.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong, Tommy,” he insisted.

Joel was actively avoiding the accusations. He stood up from where he’s been perched upon for hours on end, bringing his half-carved wooden slab with him to set it on one of the displays he had. He’s grown quite the collection. It’s been going on far longer than he’d expected, the crippling fear of being undesirable and hideous, and it brought up an immense feeling of embarrassment. He couldn’t possibly admit such things to Tommy, could he? Tommy was different from him. His first child was on its way to be birthed, but girls still chatter about his charming smile and strong figure. They’d still gossip and make dirty guesses about his size. How long he endured such activities, the position he enjoyed best, and how sweet he was to his partner.

Tommy couldn’t possibly understand his fear.

“You can’t help me even if I told ya,” he grumbled.

“Put some trust in me, will ya?” Tommy chuckled as he spun around his seat to follow Joel’s every move. “Tell me what’s troublin’ you, big brother.”

“They don’t look at me the same way.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“The ladies,” Joel muttered.

His words were barely above a whisper. It almost seemed as if he saw the phenomenon as something humiliating, up to the point where he couldn’t even look Tommy in the eye in fear of having him laugh. He’s never talked about this with anyone else. It didn’t help that he truly didn’t have anyone to talk to in general aside from the few acquaintances his brother introduced him to and well.. Ellie. But none of them seem to be the right person to talk to regarding this. 

Regarding his failure in masculinity. His unspoken worries that he didn’t have any of the strong, chiseled jawline or any of the tightly packed abdomen with six separate squares to admire. He’s grown old and weak. Five years ago, he could’ve probably still sweet-talk his way into a woman's heart, but now he couldn’t even look one in the eye without the fear of being put to shame.

“They still do, Joel,” Tommy assured him. He’s telling the truth. Joel knew that Tommy didn’t have it in him to lie, he’d have sounded like a strangled bird or a squeaky dog’s toy if he did. But his mind couldn’t believe it one bit.

“I don’t know, Tommy..” he muttered. “They don’t look at me the same way. They don’t look at me at all even.. and I’m fine with that I 'spose. I ain’t a whorin’ bastard who couldn’t accept that he’s agin’..”

“But they do, Joel.”

“I’m old,” he sucked in the air. “Lately there are these moments where I.. where I’d look a girl in the eye and all I could feel was humiliation.”

“Humiliation?”

“Like they’re lookin’ at me as if I’m some.. some sort of repulsive creature,” he whispered. “I feel like I could hear ‘em gigglin’ with their girlfriends on how shameless I am.”

Tommy was deduced into silence. Time ticked by as he cranked up his brain to figure out the best way to aid his older brother out of his misery. It’s all in his head, Tommy knew that Joel knew that as well, but it’s easier patching up an oozing wound than a troubled mind. He brought his hand together on top of his jeans as he waited for the younger to make another comment, whether of comfort or of a harsh reality.

“I’ll offer you a solution,” Tommy spoke up. “But you gotta promise not to lose your head over it.”

“It ain’t drugs, is it?”

“No, no..” Tommy chuckled humorlessly.

“I’m open to anythin’” Joel dropped his arms to his side as he curiously eyed Tommy.

“Have you ever heard of a glory hole?”

Joel’s expression contorted in such a way that the younger Miller couldn’t possibly read what he’s thinking any longer.

“I ain’t goin’ outside those borders just to go to some sketchy brothel, Tommy. That’d be pathetic.”

“Well, the thing is this whole operation ain’t sketchy,” Tommy reasoned. “The girls were tested and approved by the local doctor before..”

“Local doctor? You tellin’ me this is happenin’ within Jackson?”

“I operate it, Joel,” he sighed, knowing he’s about to be bombarded with a handful of questions. “And before you ask, no this ain’t considered prostitution as there’s no material exchange.”

“You mean..”

“Yes. The girls do it for free. Volunteers. They do it for their own pleasure and I help make their dreams come true.”

Joel looked at his own brother as if he was a mad man. Who wouldn’t? When he’s just told him that they had an actual glory hole installed without most of the public knowing. Or perhaps they knew, they were just not talking about it in front of Joel.

“Ten to twelve. There’s a small house across the sheep field. One girl every Friday night.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy. Maria knows about this?”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

“No, but it’s better off she doesn’t.”

Joel felt his morals set askew for a second. This sounded like a terrible idea, despite the fact that he’s confirmed it himself that it’d be the safest a glory hole could possibly be. He scratched his beard and took it into deep consideration.

In the quiet stillness of a winter’s night, the world was wrapped in a soft, white blanket of snow. The moon hung low in the dark sky - a beacon towards those who chose to travel in the deepest hours of nighttime. Joel blew puffs of warm air onto his gloved fingertips, hoping it’d satiate the coolness that made his joints ache and his skin itch. The air was crisp and biting, each breath producing a frosty cloud which quickly amalgamated into the air. He watched as gentle snowflakes, alike to elegant ballet dancers, fell from the heavens up above and twirled and swirled into an intricate pattern. He’s been waiting for way too long.

“So what are ya sayin’? Are you gonna let me take you tomorrow night?” Tommy broke the silence.

Tommy promised to meet him on the edge of the sheep field, where they’d herd livestocks all throughout the warmer times of the year, but he’s yet to see his tall nose and dark hair from any of the cardinal directions. He’s been waiting for too long to keep the same mindset Tommy’s trained him into, that this was simply a beneficial exchange for every party involved and that he shouldn’t feel shameful for something so instinctive. Waiting gave him time to weigh out the cons, how this was naturally an act of debauchery that wounded both his moral values and beliefs. He ain’t a God preacher, but he’s sure to keep some of those Southern manners.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

None of Tommy’s ideas are ever well thought out. Starting from his sudden gravitation towards the military, to his desires to hand over his entire life towards the Fireflies, and now this. He knew his younger brother wasn’t the brightest of men, but creating an entire glory hole to keep the town’s morale up might be the stupidest one he’s heard yet. Especially when Maria’s not aware of it. He feared for the day when the beans spilled out of its jar, but tonight wasn’t that day. During the time in which he contemplated his decisions, Joel didn’t notice the crunching of snow against thick boots. Tommy was here and he looked far too calm for a self-made procucer.

Tommy beckoned him to follow the path his boots had made. Joel sucked in some of that painfully cold air into his lungs, before he stuffed his hands in his pockets and started trailing along. There were a few street lamps across the field, a ruddy glow emanating from them as they were adorned with a light dusting of snow. He kept his guards up while he scanned through the whistling field of crop, that traumatized part of him always keeping in check of abrupt movements and unsettling sceneries. After a quiet walk for a good three minutes, they finally arrived. The house fronts looked dark enough, and the windows even darker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs.

There was snow piling up outside as well, dirtier ones whose last deposit had been plowed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and wagons. He scrutinized over the tracks, wondering if this was meant to be used as a makeshift grain tower. If it was, then Tommy must’ve been a great scheming asshole to turn such a place into his own little heaven. Not one soul was around, which confused Joel even more. Wasn’t this supposed to be a public glory hole? Weren’t it supposed to be disgustingly packed with sweating men, adorned with walls covered in left-over spurts of cum and other bodily fluids, and smelled like sex itself?

Joel continued to pursue Tommy even when he’s overly skeptical about this entirely new scene. His boots were scuffed as he was dragging his feet through the front door, a fight against his defense system that’s begging him to flee out the door at the unfamiliarity. The establishment consisted of a long narrow hallway that eventually led up to an imposing door. Wooden, large, and mysterious.

To his surprise, what was beyond that door wasn’t some tacky sex dungeon with rattling chains and leather whips, it was a modest looking box. Square, he’d assume one meter wide and half a meter tall. He took in the wood it was made from. His pointer finger slowly traced the circumference out of habit. Oak, he concluded, making it sturdy and cool even in the warmer weather. What he failed to notice from the get-go was a pair of legs that were stretched open, chained onto the wall from the considerably-sized gap. Joel’s heart dropped to his stomach, he forgot for an entire minute what he was planning to do, and he’s starting to get cold feet.

“Darlin’, I’ve got someone for you,” Tommy cooed.

“You do, Tommy?”

Normally, people acquire hobbies in order to soothe their brief but occasional boredom, though you have discovered a unique way to tackle long hours of the night. This brilliant discovery of yours was birthed from a fated moment. One where you accidentally stumble across the conversation Tommy had with one of his patrol friends. It began a fantasy in your head. One you didn’t believe could come true until you overheard a passionate storytelling session one of the barmaids gave their friend. Only then did you gather enough courage to talk to Tommy about it. Despite his initial disapproval, saying things like you look too good and gentle to be doing such things, you managed to convince him with a week's worth of nagging.

“Mhm, one of my good friends here,” he hummed. “You’ll let him use you like a good fucking girl, won’t you?”

Goosebumps trailed from your backbone down to where your legs spread wide. Your nervousness made you flinch, effectively causing your legs to rattle against the metal restraints.

“Yes, I will, Tommy.”

When did you get so.. obedient?

“Alright then. I’ll see you in um.. twenty?”

“Thirty,” the foreign voice spoke up, masculine with a twinge of accent.

“Thirty it is.”

The entire room went quiet for an entire minute, only then did you finally hear the door slammed back shut. You swallowed back the throbbing fear in your heart, pushing back those persistent thoughts constantly warning you of the dangers. Even if you trusted Tommy with all your life, you didn’t trust the random strangers Tommy’s picked out. How could you trust them when you didn’t know who they were for sure? They could’ve been someone you see on the daily. The friendly guards, the cafeteria guy who’d always beam a sweet smile your way and give out more bread than standard, or even.. Tommy’s hunk of a brother. The same one who wouldn’t even spare you a look when you’re obviously sending heart eyes his way.

“Darlin’ is your name, ain’t that right?”

There was something so.. alluring about his voice. The type that makes your knees buckle inevitably, despite your best efforts to push it apart.

“That’s right,” you squeaked out.

“Darlin’, it’s been a long long time since I’ve done this, so let me indulge in you alright?”

“Okay,” you breathed out unsurely.

Your eyes instinctively followed the direction of the hushed voice, but all you could see from the dim box was a piece of dark fabric that was hung from above the hole. It was to keep your identity a secret so that the patrons across from you could only see you from the belly button down. Though now you felt more inclined than ever to pull on the draping and meet this man’s eyes. Your thoughts soon diminished when you felt a large hand over your inner thighs. Nowhere dangerous, just resting below where your kneecaps sat. You closed your eyes to try and envision the kind of hands touching you.

Were they soft and unsullied like a baby’s bum? Or were they rough and ridged with years of work?

That large hand traveled down South, inching with an irritatingly slow pace down towards where you ached the most. He was a fair man. He treated both of your thighs in the same manner before the two gathered together in a v-shape over your cotton panties. You wondered if you should’ve worn something more enticing, something which suited a person like you - someone willing to spread their legs for a true stranger. But the man on the other side didn’t seem to have a problem. He didn’t seem like he was bothered by the simplicity of your presentation, instead he was keen on pressing his thumb down the center.

They were the latter. 

His fingers were textured and it felt too good to be true. At the briefest touch, you followed after his movement, hips reaching further up to chase after his departing touch. You whined. Frustrated that he’s cruel enough to press your sensitive clit and leave you all hot and bothered. He let out a deep chuckle, one that came out from the depth of his stomach as he placed his thumb back where it belonged. Your hole clenched and unclenched at the stimulating sensation. Your cotton panties seemed to be a great aid for your needy clit. It felt similar to grinding over a pillow, just this time, it felt a lot more real and animated.

“How long have you been doin’ this, darlin’?”

“Doin’ what, sir?”

So polite. It’s laughable the fact that you’re so soft spoken. Your lips spilled out a gentle moan as his thumb dug deeper into that sensitive spot.

“Lettin’ strangers fuck you,” he was frank with his words that’s for sure.

“This is my first time.. in the box that is,” your voice cracked almost immediately under pressure. “Been thinking of this for a long long time though.”

The gruff man hummed noncommittally as he continued to please you with his thumb. You used to be shy when it comes to being reactive during intercourse, but with the box, it almost felt like you could finally be your true primal self with your utmost carnal desires. He slowly eased your stained panties to the side once he saw an increasingly growing wetness, knowing that it’s time to move on to his next way of torture. Your pussy was exposed to the cool air immediately, it felt like the air was nipping at the sensitive skin all around. He took his two fingers - his middle and pointer finger being his favorite choice despite the controversy - and slowly dragged it atop the slick canal.

“A pretty girl like you gettin’ all wet from a little touchin’,” he chided. “You haven’t been fucked well or somethin’?”

What a considerate man. He called you pretty when he could barely tell what you look like.

“No, maybe, I-” you were flustered. You’ve never had to exchange proper talk when someone’s touching your dirty, wet cunt. “None of Jackson’s men did good. That’s why I hoped..”

Your voice trailed off into a garble of nonsense when he teased at your entrance, trying to decide whether you’re soaked enough to push a finger in comfortably. You whined, louder this time, as your legs fought against the uncomfortable metal cuffs wrapped around your ankle. He decided to play nice for once and made your dreams come true by inserting that thick finger of his. Fingering has never felt good for you, it always felt like an intrusion rather than a welcomed feeling, but he’s making it feel like heaven on earth.

“Hoped a stranger would fuck me well enough,” you took awhile to finish that statement.

He let out one of those noises of disapproval, at your skewed moral direction perhaps or at the tone of desperation your voice must’ve let out. You could only suck in a shallow breath when he started making proper, continuous motions with his finger. He pushed upwards to poke the tip of his finger onto that squishy part, playing around to find out where exactly made you react the most. You loved how he’s patient. You’re half-expecting the men to just stuff their cocks in you like you’re some sex doll instead of taking their time, which you don’t mind either. Half the pleasure was from being treated like nothing.

“Dirty gal,” he degraded, which you found both surprising and exciting. “Just wanted her pussy stuffed with any cock she could have, hm?”

Your hips thrusted up at a larger interruption. This time, the man managed to insert two of his thick fingers inside your eased cunt. He twisted it one-hundred-eighty degrees to the left, then back to the right, before he curled it in a come-here motion. The motion had left you dumb. A combination of ah ah ah’s and unfinished pleads for him to keep still. The man never once fully removed his fingers out of you. He’d slowly pull back to only have a single knuckle stuck inside before pushing it all the way in once more. For once, someone didn’t finger you like you’re a pizza dough waiting to be pounded.

“A-ah, sir. I really.. mmh- I really like that,” you moaned out shamelessly. “Feels really good in my.. in my pussy.”

“You like what, darlin’?”

“Like your fingers.. fingers in my ah- ah pussy!” you whined when he deepened his reach by rotating his wrist upwards. “Something- fuck- something’s coming! Please.. Please don’t sto-”

You warned him like a goddamn virgin and there it was, you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the way your pussy squelched around his finger at the new wave of sticky fluids. The noises were filthy and lewd that you were embarrassed for the first time that night. It coated your throbbing cunt and slowly ebbed out of your hole, dribbling down onto the wooden floor boards under. Strings of almost translucent thickness proof of his success. It’s pretty. The way you gaped around his fingers, tightened and relaxed at his fingers that still kept you full.

“Good girl,” he cooed.

He must be experienced, because he was quick to rub your clit precisely as you went through the throes of orgasm. His broad palm never missed where that bundle of nerves were, until you’re dripping all over the place. Only when you’re right towards the end did he land a small smack atop your pussy, keeping pressure where your womb is to maintain the pleasure for as long as you could. It felt like this wasn’t a shit place for once. It felt like this stranger could surely turn the flesh-eating monsters into a field of rainbows and flowers from how good he’s making you feel.

“You taste sweet,” he muttered. “Someone ever told you that?”

It took you a while to notice that his fingers weren’t there to stuff you full. He was busy tasting you. You could imagine him on the other side of the room, rough fingers deep in his mouth, drenched in your arousal. The thought made you squirm, growing wet once more. You shook your head as his hand slid back up. His fingers ran over your clit with one long stroke before they stayed there. His thumb sat right atop the throbbing spot, unmoving. 

"Perfect little thing, ain't ya?” he asked, and you nodded, your muscles tense as anticipation ran high. "Gonna fill you up real nice."

As soon as the dull tip of his cock prodded against your entrance, your whole body convulsed. Tears slowly crept into your eyes, frustrated, you might as well cry out a pathetic plea if he kept on stalling. Your palms banged flat against the side of the box. Overwhelmed and on the verge of tears when he purposefully missed your weeping hole. His length slid upwards, the warm tip rubbed against your clit from below before it shied away once more. Your toes curled and he must’ve taken the hint from behind the curtains.

The perfect stranger pushed himself up to where his mushroom-like tip ended, allowing you to adjust to the dimensions of his cock before he eased himself deeper.

You let out a strained moan. 

You almost bump the top of your head on the oak boards when he forced his way in. His cock was fully inside you at last. You were ecstatic. Eyes shut close as you bit into your bottom lip, flesh tearing beneath your canines. It was too much all of a sudden. Too good. Too large. Too full. You could hear the loud squelching noise your spongy hole made as he pulled back and stuffed himself back in.

“Fuck,” he groaned silently. “Don’t squeeze around me, darlin’. You're gonna get me in big trouble.”

He chuckled and fuck did it sound so hot.

You felt his fingers gently reach for the width of your hips. His grip was tight and harsh as he guided your every movement with them. He thrusted like a man on a shooting range, with much precision and prowess. You liked this. Liked feeling as if you’re just a doll for people to use and dump their loads in, especially when it's for someone like him. His cock made you writhe and fight against the metal cuffs holding your legs up. Eager to have him speed up to meet your desires yet he was persistent in keeping a stable speed. The sensation was growing. Slowly but surely.

“A-ah.. mmph.. oh God!”

“God ain’t here to save you, darlin’. It’s just this old man right here,” he cooed crudely. 

He made sure to keep you full at all times. Never once did his perfectly-sized cock leave your sloppy hole, it just kept on twitching and growing in size with the help of your warm embrace. “You like this, don’t ya?”

“Oh- oh yes. I like it. Love your..,” he stopped your lewd confession by placing his thumb back atop your once neglected clit, drawing lazily with what’s left of your wetness. You could feel him starting to seep. A tinge of his own arousal mixing in with yours. “Cock! Love your c- cock.”

His heavy pants started to intensify in volume, such a lovely melody when combined with your pathetic whimpers. He’s close.

“Gonna cum in you, darlin’” he muttered out breathlessly. “Gonna make sure you’re all fucked out with my cum.”

You couldn’t think straight. Not when you’re on a highway to heaven. Your little hole tightened, so eager to milk him dry.

“Yeah, you’d like that, won’t you?”

“O-oh.. oh yes. Please.. fuck,”

“Please?”

“Please fill me up.”

His tip started oozing out ribbons after ribbons of cum, quickly filling you up relentlessly. Though he hasn’t stopped bottoming himself up into you. His load sloshed around, coated his length a perfect milky shade, and dribbled down your rear deliciously. Did you really just let a complete stranger fill you up to the top? Did you truly just let him pour his seed up your needy hole?

Maybe you did.

And maybe it’s reckless.

But oddly enough, you don’t feel too bad about it.

[cool-fancier]

Backstage Whispers and Online Speculation

Synopsis: Backstage at your world tour concert, Bada offered you comfort as you waited for your stage cue. A behind-the-scenes video captured your intimate moment, sparking fan speculation about Bada's identity. You and Bada enjoyed the mystery as you prepared for your performance.

The vibrant energy of a concert venue was buzzing around you as you sat backstage, waiting for your cue to take the stage. The enthusiasm was obvious as it was an important night in your world tour.

Bada was sitting next to you, offering comfort in the midst of the nerves from the show. She was perfectly aware of what to say and do to ease your anxiety. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and gave you a soft squeeze while smiling reassuringly.

"You've got this, Darling," said Bada. The crowd out there is going to love you."

Leaning into her warm hug, you felt the need to let your guard down a little. Her signature fragrance, a blend of her favourite perfume, engulfed you as you felt her breath on your neck. It was a scent that felt like home.

One of your staff members recorded a little behind-the-scenes video for your YouTube channel while the backstage workers worked quickly to finish getting everything ready for your big arrival. Your sudden moment with Bada was caught on camera, however it was a little blurred because of how quickly it was done.

@Y/N_Addicts: "Who's that beside Y/N?"

@_Fanatic_Y/N: Is that a secret guest?!🤔

@Wife-of-Y/N: I can't see clearly, but they look close!

@Y/N_Heartbeat: Maybe it's Y/N's new duet partner?☺️

@Y/N-damn: This is killing me! I need answers!🙃🫣

You chuckled, your voice warm and affectionate as you chatted with Bada off-camera. The lighthearted conversation was an indication to your closeness.

Bada said, "Darling, let them guess.  It's a lot of fun to see them try and figure out."

You nodded in agreement, enjoying this intimate moment before stepping into the the spotlight.  With her arm around you, Bada provided a comforting hold in the middle  of the online storm.

Once the video was uploaded to your YouTube account, fans couldn't help but try to identify the "mystery person" in the clip. Some eagle-eyed fans pointed out the cap Bada was wearing, fueling speculation that it might indeed be her.

@Bada_Lovers: "That cap looks like Bada's!"😆😮

@BadaAndY/N_Lovers: "Is it Bada? It has to be!"😉

@BadaY/n_Forever: "Y/N and Bada are so close, I bet it's her!"🤭

@BadaAdmirers:Guys relax,it could be them but everyone knows they are very good friends.😑

Fans searched through every frame looking for hints, turning the comments area into a war zone of speculations and hypotheses.  You and Bada, nevertheless, took enjoyment in the mystery you unintentionally created amidst the chaos.

The rumours in the comments section intensified as the performance started and you dazzled the audience. They had no idea that Bada, your confidante and love, was there to support you no matter what as you performed on stage.

@Bada_HypeSquad: "I can't believe it might be Bada!"🥹🥹

@Y/NBada_Supporters: "If it is, they're so cute together!"🙌

Even though they were uncertain about the mystery alongside you, your supporters couldn't help but wish for your happiness despite all the commotion and discussions.

[mellowdisko]

Religion in Caesar's Legion

The neopaganist movement of the wasteland. We know the whole deal with Mars; The Legion bases its religious framework around the worship of the Roman god of war and Caesar as the “Son of Mars”. The Roman imperial cult is probably present in the Legion so we can say our boy Ed is seen as the hand of God reaching to the wasteland. The wiki says Caesar declared himself the Son of Mars, ordered by a divine mandate, empowering him with the supposed will of the god to carry out his imperial conquests, to "deliver the wasteland from chaos and barbarism." And to facilitate this conquest, Mars cleansed the Earth with fire, bringing humans to their lowest ebb. This casts the Great War as a central event within the Legion's mythology. (That also creates a very interesting premise about Legionaries coming into contact with historical texts from the Old World. If they were to read about the origins of the Great War, they would likely come to the realization that the bombs falling was not a divine judgment but instead a direct result of past politics).

But going back to Mars, the religious practices of the Legion are directly influenced by the Roman pantheon, but there are very obvious peculiarities. Like, at the beginning of the battle of Hoover Dam, we see the Legate performing human sacrifices in the name of Mars. Does this mean such rituals are an institutionalized practice within the Legion, or is Lanius simply exploiting Mars' name? Additionally, the focus on Mars as the primary deity is different from that of the regular Roman religion. While the ideology clearly draws from Roman mythology, there is an apparent absence of other Roman gods in the Legion. And if only Mars is worshipped, does that mean the Legion follows a monotheistic religion? And if they do worship other Gods, how does Caesar explain the presence of female figures in Roman myth, most notably Minerva, when the Legion’s culture is strictly patriarchal?

Now I am fully getting into headcanon territory here, I would like to imagine that, contrary to the monotheistic implications, the Legion could indeed worship other Roman gods. And that Mars, while the supreme deity, might be part of a broader polytheistic religion where other gods play roles of lesser significance. And like with that, the Legion’s various settlements could be dedicated to particular deities, with each city having its own little unique religious practices. Localized temples and patron gods would create a more dynamic culture while maintaining a religion centred on Mars.

Another headcanon of mine is the influence of New Canaanite traditions on the religion of the Legion. I feel like Graham's religious background probably did have an effect during the forming years of the Legion. While this influence would not likely lead to a rejection of the polytheistic system, it could manifest in subtle ways, such as the adoption of certain rituals or expressions like, idk, "amen" being used after prayers.

Oh, and finally, the Legion’s process of absorbing various tribal groups and cultures into its borders inevitably brings with it a plethora of different religious beliefs and practices. While the Legion assimilates the cultures it conquers and enforces a nationalist, imperialist, totalitarian, homogeneous culture that obliterates the identity of every group it takes,  it seems unlikely that every single native religious practice could be entirely erased. Given the sheer number of individuals within the Legion, it is plausible that some form of religious syncretism would emerge. And I do think Caesar is wise enough to bring the tribal religious beliefs into the grander culture of the legion instead of destroying them fully

or maybe not, I don't know; the guy does have an intelligence stat of 4.

[leaderoffestivals]

Lupine Halloween: Chapter 2

The Forgotten Candy: Chapter 2

Kaoru: What do you mean you want to celebrate Halloween now—right smack in the middle of Spring? 

Season: Spring Characters: Mikejima Madara, Kanzaki Souma, Hakaze Kaoru

< In the Hallway... ...>

Madara: HAHAHA! It seems like the commotion I caused was a bit too much, huh? We’ve been kicked out of the office sooo mercilessly, courtesy of Keito-san ☆

Souma: It is only natural that you, an outsider, be expelled from the premises, Mikejima-dono—

But why, pray tell, was I forced to leave alongside you?

Kaoru: Hey, that’s exactly what I wanna ask, too! I didn’t have anything to do with the chaos earlier, did I?

Madara: Welps, we’re all in this together now! (1) Consider yourself a honorary member of this merry gang by association, Kaoru-san ♪

Kaoru: Ehhhh~? I’m just an innocent bystander here, aren’t I? It totally feels like I’ve been hit by a speeding truck outta nowhere! 

Souma: Indeed, I regret this development as well. To think I had been making such good progress in discussing my proposal with Anzu-dono earlier—

Madara: That’s awesome! That was exactly what I was aiming for, you seee.

Souma: What? Just what exactly are you scheming, Mikejima-dono?

Madara: Didn’t I already declare my intentions back at the office? I want to celebrate Halloween together with Anzu-san!

Kaoru: What? First of all, that makes no sense though? 

It’s super frustrating to be dragged into this mess without a clue about what’s going on, so I have to ask—

What do you mean you want to celebrate Halloween now—right smack in the middle of Spring? 

Madara: A perfectly valid question! Since Anzu-san is here, I’d like all of you to take a look at this. 

Souma: What is this? A project proposal? Hmm, hmm… …

Souma: “Enjoying 'Harrouin' Enthusiastically with a Buff Werewolf”? What is this bizarre concept even supposed to be?

Kaoru: Ahaha! Isn’t it pretty obvious from the title?

… …Eh? What’s wrong, Anzu-chan? What’s with that look of shock on your face?

Souma: Hm? Could it be this proposal is something Anzu-dono herself created in the past?

Madara: That’s what it looks like. I came across it when I was tidying up the office earlier. 

Souma: Fufu. You, too, Mikejima-dono? Anzu-dono’s proposals are truly like buried treasure—priceless gems, unearthed only by those with virtue and patience.

Madara: Hmm? “I thought I’d thrown those out ages ago,”—you say? Well, it was about to be tossed away today.

However I’m really glad it’s been kept safe in the office all this time. 

Out of aaall the countless proposals, this one really spoke to me! I could tell right away Anzu-san penned this down with me in mind!

Madara: That’s why I absolutely have to carry out this plan with Anzu-san!

Souma: Hoho~? So, that explains your impulsive entrance into ‘RizuRin’ earlier to meet with Anzu-dono about this project. 

Madara: That’s riiight. I do apologise for having interrupted your conversation, Souma-san—

But I figured that if I didn’t speak up then, you’d whisk Anzu-san away from me. That’s why I took action to disrupt you. 

If I hadn’t done that, you’d have snatched the Event Slot right out from under me, wouldn’t you?

Souma: Hmm? The ‘Ebento’ slot, you say… … Can it be you are also eyeing the ‘R1’ slot for your project, Mikejima-dono? 

Madara: Bingo! You’re sharp, Souma-san. That’ll make our little chat go ever so much smoother. 

Souma: Hmph. So, that was why you resorted to such drastic actions.

Madara: I won’t ask for forgiveness at aaall. In fact, it’s totally fine if you bear a grudge against me—

Because I’m fully prepared to fight you for both Anzu-san and the R1 slot, Souma-san!

Souma: In that case, I can hardly back down meekly now, can I? 

I, too, have plans I wish to realise. If clashing with you is the only way forward, Mikejima-dono, then so be it—I accept your challenge! 

Kaoru: … … … …

Eh? Hold up a second? Somehow, it seems like you two have already finished hashing things out, but—

Can we go back to my question for a moment? The one asking Mikejima-kun about why he's so set on celebrating Halloween now, at this time of the year?

Eh? Seriously? Am I the only one who finds that weird?? 

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3

Lupine Halloween Masterlist

(To be continued)

Translator’s Notes:

Madara says 一蓮托生 (ichi ren taku shou), a Buddhist term which “describes the intertwining of fate and karma between two (usually) individuals, resulting in an irrevocable bond leading to their shared destiny even after death, where they reincarnate in the Pure Land together, symbolically within the same lotus blossom.” (What?) Colloquially, it means “all in the same boat.”

This isn't proofed, so if you have an questions or feedback to give, please DM me.

[i-create-chaos]

Dont you.......hate me??? I don't have any mutual so open!

Starting new picrew bc I find this one super cute and pretty so lets go! LINK

No pressure tag @wyvernslovecake @bby-deerling @nina-ya @ringdabel @im-stuck-in-fandom-hell and everyone who wants to join! 💛

[luniidae]

~ A Fire Within ~

Chapitre VI

TW: Violence, blood (well, I guess it was obvious with this illustration)

Note: Well, it is 3:00am here, I'm so tired but I could not wait to post this new chapter 😂

Anyway, it is possible to feel like the events come and go pretty quickly and I'm sorry for that.

_________________________________________

The next one would come quick... And the morbid masquerade would start again. The same room, the same tools, the same pain, the same tormentor....

"Listen here, pipsqueak, the sooner you let me do, the sooner I'll be done with you", the minion growled while they were trying to hold the girl in place. But this pliers... This damn pliers made her suffer so much. A simple touch on her horns was enough to make her wince, as they got very sensitive over the time.

Luvia was full of apprehension... She had thought about this moment for weeks, but now, she felt overcome by a wave of doubts and fear. She wanted to get rid of the Lackey, but.... What would come next ?

She had imagined so many scenarios, however, she would have never thought about what would happen.

"There’s no point making so much fuss about it,” they added in a condescending and reproachful tone as the tool gripped the horn. That was so painful.

But Luvia had enough, she had endured this for 7 years already. She was ready to fight back, but a loud noise suddenly echoed within the House, and the agitation seemed to take over the corridors. The two of them stayed still to listen to what was going on, but the young girl didn't waste her time on this detail.  That was it, that was her moment, the Lackey was no longer paying attention to her. 

She tried to escape but they firmly maintained her, tightening the pliers as hard as they could, which made her scream.

The Lackey expected her to "calm" her down for good, but it made things worse.

Indeed, Luvia started to struggle violently, externalizing all of her rage, and she managed to break free from their grip. She didn't notice that her horn just got ripped off in the process, making her blood dropped all over her face. In the heat of the moment, she also disfigured the Lackey with her last horn, making them step back for good. And while they were screaming in pain, holding their face in their hands, the young girl rushed to the door.

Once she was outside, and despite her blurry vision, Luvia could notice the chaos in the corridors. The House of Hope was in fire and several of the debtors turned into infernal creatures and were running about, looking for something... Or someone. But there was no time to think about it now. Disoriented by the pain and the blood in her eyes, Luvia started to run away without knowing where to go. Her heart was beating wildly in her ears.

Her run was stopped when she collided with something which caused her to fall backwards. She blinked several times to try to see what was standing in front of her, and once she adjusted her vision, she recognized Raphael.

Luvia couldn't describe the expression on his face, but what was certain was that his eyes were filled with only one thing: fury.

"What the....", he started. 

He firmly caught the young girl's arm to put her on her feet. It was almost scary to see how it had been easy for him to lift her off the ground like a doll. 

"Can you tell me what is going on ?", he asked angrily.

But Luvia couldn't answer... She didn't know, unless he was talking about her appearance. At the very same moment, Korilla arrived and froze when she saw the Dracanist's bloody face. 

"Take her somewhere safe", Raphael said to the dwarf.

Korilla made appears a portal and took Luvia with her through it. They were now in a place that the young girl never seen. The decorations were slightly different from the House of Hope's, but at least, there were no flames or cries...

"You're safe here", Korilla said, "This place had been created especially for this kind of "occasion".... But to be honest, I wouldn't have thought we would need it someday".

Luvia stared at the paintings, the furnitures, the carpets... Everything was well decorated as always... But her contemplation were interrupted by a searing pain in her head. She fell on her knees while she was holding her face. 

"We need to take care of this", she looked for something in her bag, "Drink this, it will reduce the pain", she said while she was handing a purple potion. Luvia drank the content of the bottle so fast that she almost choked herself. 

Once the pain was less intense, Korilla helped Luvia to stand up.

"Take a seat", she said, showing her a chair nearby. Once in place, she examined the girl's head. An entire piece of horn had been ripped off, and it remained almost nothing from the base. Some pieces of skin were missing at some places too. It wasn't surprising for her to suffer so much, she thought. 

The woman prepared everything she needed to take care of the injury.

"Tell me, how this happened ?", the dwarf asked while she was cleaning Luvia's wound. 

The young girl hesitated... She knew that she did something "wrong", but at the same time, it wasn't wrong to her. And she couldn't handle it any longer anyway.

"I tried to run away...", she finally answered.

"Hm.... ? From the House ?"

"No no", she added quickly, "I just wanted them to stop hurting me".

Korilla said nothing, but she felt a bit sad for her. She remembered the time she found her in Neverwinter. She was so tiny, so fragile... Sitting on a rooftop in the darkness. It had been 8 years already that Luvia had joined the House of Hope. Now she was a pretty young girl... 

After a few minutes, her wound was cleaned and cared for, and she had no longer any trace of blood on her face.

"Thank you, Korilla...", she said shyly.

The dwarf kissed her forehead.

"Be careful... Now, it is time for you to rest. You won't be back home before tomorrow"

"You're not staying with me ?", Luvia asked, a bit nervous. 

"I need to help Raphael to bring back some order in this mess... I'll be back soon, I promise. Now rest"

Luvia headed to a bed nearby while Korilla was creating a new portal leading to the House of Hope. The young girl wasn't very pleased to be all by herself, but it was nothing but a matter of time, she thought...

The next day....

"It's time to go", Korilla said, and Luvia quickly followed her through a new portal to their home. She couldn't wait to see Raphael, to know if he was alright, if everything was alright. She still was wondering what happened the day before... Anyways, the House of Hope seemed to be back to normal, majestic and radiant, as always. 

Luvia's head was still a bit painful, and even if that was tempting, she avoided to touch it. Also, everything seemed oddly calm ... It was almost disturbing. As the two women were going through the corridors, Korilla stopped a moment and faced Luvia.

"First things first... Raphael may be still in a terrible mood. So keep a low profil, got it ?"

She almost looked worried... Luvia nodded. And speak of the devil.... She could suddenly hear heavy footsteps from the distance... She knew them well, but they weren't usually toward her. Except this time. 

And in fact, Raphael had not recovered from the tumult of the day before, and he was still just as furious. And for good reason: Enver had fled, and his action had brought chaos into HIS home, which was something he particularly hated. 

However, Luvia didn't understand why he seemed so angry at her. 

"Can you tell me what happened to your Lackey...", he asked.

"... Nothing special"

But the cambion frowned even harder and suddenly slapped her. A slap. Not a greeting, not a kind word.... A slap. That was apparently all she'd get for now.

Luvia stepped back under the chock of the gesture and held her left painful cheek. Korilla's eyes widened and she seemed about to say something, but Raphael signaled her to be quiet and leave them alone. And so she did without insisting.

The dwarf opened another portal and looked back at Luvia before leaving, a concerned look on her face. 

Luvia and Raphael were now all by themselves, and the young girl, vexed, stared at Raphael straight in the eyes. 

"Don't you dare disrespect me with such a look, young lady. I found your Lackey and their mutilated face...I usually appreciate the artistic expressions. This missing eye was a good choice of yours. But it is NOT how things were supposed to be going. So I ask you again and it will be the last time: What.Happened.Yesterday ?" 

Luvia could feel the anger growing within her. How could he be so insensitive ?

"They were hurting me", she answered, trying to containt her feelings.

"That is not an excuse, little mouse"

"This is not an excuse indeed, I'm tired of this ! I'm tired of enduring such a treatment for gods know why. I don't want to do this anymore... Nevermore. You told me I was helping people this way, but you know what ? I don't care anymore !."

Her voice trembled in a mix of displeasure and despair. 

Raphael seemed still furious. He hated to remember the state he found his House of Hope, but it seemed that he hated even more to see her "daughter" fight back.

"Oh I'm sorry, did you think you had the choice ? You should sincerely consider to stay obedient, for your own sake. You're far more useful and less annoying when you're not complaining about nothing."

"I'M NOT YOURS TO USE !", she screamed as Raphael's eyes widened...

With a glint of fury...

To Be Continued...

Bonus: Full version

[aftermathfanfic]

D&Ducks

So, I was originally going to make this post for when I hit 300 followers, but I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon, and I’ve been thinking about this for way too long, so fuck it. I’m just gonna post this now and see what happens.

In case it wasn’t obvious from the hints I’ve scattered through Aftermath, I am a huge D&D nerd. I love playing the game, I love running the game, I love the monsters, everything. And what I particularly love doing is building characters and monsters for the game. I use a lot of custom monsters for the games that I run, even though I don’t end up using all of them, and what I’ve done in the past is that I created character sheets and stat blocks for some of our favourite anthropomorphic ducks. In fact, on my main blog, I documented a solo adventure that I ran by myself, for myself, in story format as I put these duck characters through a premade advennture! (I eventually stopped, because playing a D&D game by yourself is as dull as it sounds)

So today, I’m going to revisit those roots and lay out how I would build the Ducktales characters as tabletop RPG player characters! This is something I’ve given way too much thought to, so be warned – this is going to be quite long-winded, with little to nothing to do with Aftermath itself, and of interest to only a small subset of people.

Let’s begin!

The Basics

I want to preface this whole thing by mentioning that while I’m going to try and describe these characters in a way that can be transposed onto any RPG system, I’m going to be using the Pathfinder RPG (1st edition) as a basis for these characters, just because it’s what I’m most familiar with at the moment. The basics are the same – roll a 20-sided dice, add a number and hope to get a big enough total – but there are more nitty-gritty rules and it's way easier to kill off your characters.

Another thing to keep in mind is that I’ll be inserting these characters into a D&D setting of my own creation, rather than any pre-existing settings. I don’t have a name for it, but essentially this setting is an undisciplined mix-and-match of characters from different IPs that interest me. The McDucks, in this setting, live as a powerful noble family in a kingdom of united beast-folk families.

Final thing is that even though these guys are anthropomorphic ducks, they’re going to have the racial traits of humans to make things simpler on me. I’ll also be giving them a swim speed of 15 feet in addition to those traits.

Dewey

This spry duck stands with the cockiness of an ambitious hero, a sword in each hand. A bright blue tabard, tattered from numerous skirmishes, flows down his chest to cover steel armour of haphazard construction.

Age: 16 Alignment: Chaotic Good Class/Level: Fighter 3/Bard 1 Ability Scores: STR 16, DEX 16, CON 14, INT 10, WIS 8, CHA 14

In this world, the triplets were raised by their uncle Donald in a quiet fishing village on the outskirts of the city of Duckland, in the providence of Calisota. They never got so much as a hint of their caretaker’s history as an adventurer, not until they found their uncle’s old adventuring gear, stowed away in the attic of their house. Among this gear was two finely made swords, both of which Dewey snatched up and started swinging around – resulting in the destruction of several family items and the near decapitation of Huey. Donald was forced to tell the triplets of his past as an adventurer, and the revelation shook them to the core. To make up for it, he decided to teach them how to adventure properly, in the hopes that if they wouldn’t be persuaded out of their trouble-making instincts, he could at least teach them to be safe while doing it.

Dewey remains the chief chaos-monger of the triplets. Ambitious and eager to live up to his family name, Dewey often throws himself into danger without hesitation, giving no thought to possible traps, uneven terrain, or indeed, the strength of whoever he’s fighting against compared to his own. He makes up for his recklessness by being virtually untouchable in a fight, deflecting swords, claws and spells with his twin swords. The longer blade, named Helios, was once wielded by his Uncle Donald. The shorter blade, Asteria, was his mother’s.

Against intelligent foes, Dewey never fights to kill – a trait unique to the McDuck adventurers – but rather, he tries to disarm and trip his foes, intimidating them into surrender. He’s remarkably acrobatic, and his fights are often performative in nature – hence his level in Bard. The sheer bravado he displays in combat inspires his family to fight even more fiercely and distracts his foes long enough for him to knock the wind out of them.

Huey

This anxious duck wears a heavy breastplate and a red cap, a collapsible spear slung around his back. He holds a large, heavy book bound in red leather with the letters ‘WJW’ imprinted upon it.

Age: 16 Alignment: Neutral Good Class/Level: Cleric 2/Wizard 2 Ability Scores: STR 14, DEX 10, CON 12, INT 16, WIS 15, CHA 13

Though regarded as a do-gooder by his brothers, Huey Duck is just as brave, ambitious and adventurous as the other McDucks. He took the role of the older brother quickly, seeing himself as a caretaker of his brothers and, prior to moving into Manor McDuck, the fixer-upper of torn clothes, broken furniture, and the like. With a resourcefulness and intellect beyond his years, Huey takes the role as both the primary healer of the party and – when the occasion calls for it – the firepower.

Huey originally had his heart set on joining the Woodchuck rangers, a group of survivalists and wilderness protectors on the outskirts of the world. While there, he met clerics and priests of Artemis, goddess of the hunt, with whom he made a rapport with. He even began to learn the ways of these wilder clerics, learning magic that could heal, magic that could wound, and magic that let him shape the natural world around him. In the end, however, he was rejected by the rangers, for while his survival skills were impeccable, his fighting prowess left much to be desired. Disheartened, but determined to make use of what he’d learned, he continued his studies of the ways of Artemis, delving deeply into his survival skills and the art of restorative magic.

At some point during his escapades with his uncle, Lord Scrooge McDuck, Huey became enamoured with the other side of magic – that of the arcane. He poured over arcane tomes, taking on wizardly studies in addition to his clerical practices. He has recently begun leaning more heavily towards wizardry, for while he’s grateful to Artemis for his abilities, he considers the goddess to be more of a tutor than an idol to be worshipped. He’ll never be the strongest of Artemis’s faithful, and he’s made peace with that – wizards get more exciting spells, anyway.

Louie

This youthful duck leans against the alley wall, his head concealed by a dark green hood. He smirks at you, absent-mindedly flipping a coin up and down in the air.

Age: 16 Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Class/Level: Rogue 3/Sorcerer 1 Ability Scores: STR 9, DEX 15, CON 12, INT 12, WIS 13, CHA 18

Thief. Charlatan. Snake. Louie Duck has been called many things, and he’s never let any of it stick. He’s out for himself and his family first, and what he’s out for is treasure. Coins, gems, jewellery – he doesn’t care. He loves it all. He’ll do the right thing for his family (though not without a fair share of grumbling), but he always makes sure he gets something out of it, and he isn’t above guilting or threatening the other party into upping his eventual reward.

Louie is a rogue. Obviously. He specializes in deceit, coercion, lock- and trap-picking, and even forging documents, if the opportunity is ripe. He tries to avoid combat if he can help it, but when he’s eventually forced into it, he relies on being able to feint against his opponents to catch them off-guard. When this doesn’t work, his alternative strategy is to bamboozle his foe, trying to convince them that he’s on their side, or that there’s a bugbear behind him, or that they don’t really want to hurt him. And when that fails, he panics, runs away, and then takes potshots from afar with his crossbow.

During one of the family’s adventures, Louie came really close to death. A screeching owlbear had ambushed the party and cornered Louie alone. Disarmed, wounded, and terrified, Louie tapped into something dormant deep inside him and – with a pop – vanished. He re-appeared a mere five seconds later, but that five seconds was all his family needed to redirect the beast’s attention and save his life. Since then, Louie has continued to delve into his hereto unknown sorcerous powers, learning more and more about them each time he calls upon them.

Webby

This wild-looking duck girl wears a loose-fitting pink blouse and a purple skirt, with a matching pink tie in her headfeathers. She gets into a battle stance, grinning eagerly.

Age: 15 Alignment: Chaotic Good Class/Level: Ninja 4 Ability Scores: STR 14, DEX 17, CON 14, INT 13, WIS 12, CHA 12

Webby is as wild, excitable and knowledgeable as she is in canon, raised in the manor of Lord McDuck and trained by her grandmother to be a silent and deadly assassin of House McDuck. To Lady Beakley’s disappointment, while Webby has proven to have mastered the arts of stealth and disguise, she's really squeamish about killing people for some reason.

Webby takes after her granny as a highly skilled ninja – a class somewhere between the monk and the rogue. A master of stealth, disguise, martial arts and more, Webby may not seem like it, but she’s one of the most accomplished spies Lady Beakley has ever had the privilege of training. Moreover, her training allows her to access a limited well of mystical energy that allows her to perform impossible acts. Her preferred method of attack is to overwhelm her foes with quick, rapid strikes before retreating into the shadows and hiding before they realise what happened.

Aside from being an incredible warrioress, Webby also fancies herself as an amateur historian and lorekeeper – particularly when it comes to the McDuck family history. The arcane and the occult may be guesswork to her, but ask her to name an ancestor of Clan McDuck, and she’ll give you the entire genealogical tree. She knows about every single historical event that happened in Duckland, and she can name all the native monsters in the area, right down to their weaknesses, habitats, diets, and the best method to befriend them (just in case).

Scrooge McDuck

This elderly duck stands with the pride and confidence of an experienced adventurer. His cane, cloak, top hat and bright red plate armour all combine to make an imposing figure out of this old duck.

Age: ??? Alignment: Neutral Good Class/Level: Fighter 6/Rogue 4/Duellist 10 Ability Scores: STR 11, DEX 10, CON 8, INT 15, WIS 15, CHA 16

Ruling from McDuck Manor, Scrooge is the Lord of Duckland, and one of the most powerful and influential figures in Calisota. With a manor full of artifacts, treasures and magical items, he is known throughout the land as the Richest Duck in the World, and you’d be hard-pressed to deny it. This Scrooge is mostly unchanged from the one we all know and love from canon, except this Scrooge has an army of trained soldiers, a cabal of ingenious wizards, and a small cabinet of assassins who have one loyalty and one alone – House McDuck.

You may not have heard of the Duellist class if you’ve only come in from D&D 5th edition. Honestly, you might not have heard of it even if you haven’t. The Duellist is a prestige class, one you can only take levels in if you meet the specific prerequisites, whose abilities allow Scrooge to fight with a flourish. He fights like the heroic swordsmen of old, parrying aside the blades of his foes and deftly moving around them before they can even pinpoint where he is. He fights not with a traditional blade, but with a sword concealed within his cane – a gift, from the late Ludwig Von Drake.

Other D&D aficionados may also notice that Scrooge’s physical abilities are a bit low – that, unfortunately, is due to his venerable age. In Pathfinder, your physical abilities reduce with age, while your mental abilities improve. In his prime, Scrooge’s ability scores were STR 17, DEX 16, CON 14, INT 12, WIS 12 and CHA 13, but the days of his prime are long behind him. For this reason, before going into battle, he typically equips himself with a Belt of Physical Perfection, restoring his physical prowess to what it was as a young lad. I know canon Scrooge doesn’t like to use magic (and he still doesn’t here), but that’s… really not an option in a fantasy RPG like this.

Donald Duck

With an incoherent squawking sound, this sailor rushes into the fray, swinging his fists wildly and leaping onto his foes.

Age: 42 Alignment: Neutral Good Class/Level: Barbarian 12 Ability Scores: STR 15, DEX 11, CON 13, INT 10, WIS 15, CHA 13

This good-natured, short-tempered, and risk-averse fisherman may not seem like much at first glance, but he was, in fact, once an adventurer. And as far as the rest of his family are concerned, he still is. Once a sailor for the House McDuck navy, Donald retired from his adventuring life after his twin sister, Della, was lost to the Astral Plane in an impromptu expedition gone wrong. Though he was pulled back into the adventuring life by his triplet nephews, he has never lost his cautious edge, and he remains as the most responsible member of the McDuck family.

Donald fights as he does in canon – by flying into a rage and launching himself at his opponent. He punches, kicks, bites, trips, and attacks every part he can get a hold of. In the old days, he used to use an enchanted sword, though it has been so long since he picked up the blade that much of its magic has disappeared. Nowadays, he relies on a pair of enchanted cestuses, which are essentially medieval boxing gloves with metal plates and rivets.

Mrs. Beakley

This enormous, bulky woman looms over you, her cold gaze peering into your soul. Despite her housekeeper attire, she stands tall and rigid like a soldier, and the sheathed sword on her belt does not escape your attention.

Age: Late 70s/early 80s Alignment: Lawful Neutral Class/Level: Ninja 16 Ability Scores: STR 14, DEX 8, CON 8, INT 15, WIS 17, CHA 11

Mrs. Bentina Beakley, unmarried, is the silent right hand of Lord McDuck. On the surface, she is merely the housekeeper of the manor. Beneath that, however, Beakley becomes a terrifyingly effective spymaster who has her eyes everywhere throughout the realm. Though her days as an assassin are over, she remains a cold, clever, yet surprisingly empathetic figure – so much so that she was willing to give up her career to raise a young Webby Vanderquack.

Like Scrooge, Bentina has suffered from reductions to her physical abilities from her old age, in exchange for bonuses to her mental ability scores. Her abilities in her prime were STR 20, DEX 14, CON 14, INT 12, WIS 14, CHA 8. Unlike Scrooge, she does not have any magic that can improve her abilities, but she also doesn’t see the need to. She fancies herself more of a ‘behind-the-scenes’ person these days, managing an intricate network of spies and blades for hire, gathering blackmail and intelligence for use against the enemies of House McDuck.

Launchpad

The friendly airship pilot waves at you from the cockpit, oblivious to the fact that he’s flying you directly into a mountain.

Age: 31 Alignment: Lawful Good Class/Level: Commoner 5 Ability Scores: STR 12, DEX 11, CON 17, INT 8, WIS 11, CHA 13

Launchpad remains the happy-go-lucky guy he is in canon, save that he now pilots an airship instead of an airplane. And rest assured, he is just as unqualified to fly it as ever.

[rabbiaharon]

Me:

In tractate bava metzia in perek hamafkid, there is a statement about "pushing an elephant through the eye of a needle" which rashi explains to mean providing and absurd or extremely unlikely answer to something for which they were much more obvious answers. The example that I gave is that to say that the reason why Donald Trump wants to take over Gaza is so that he can live among Arabs there and partake every day of local Arabic cuisine would be considered like pushing an elephant through the eye of a needle. Is that a good example?

ChatGPT:

Yes, your example fits well within the framework of the phrase machnis pil b'kufas machat (pushing an elephant through the eye of a needle) as used in Bava Metzia. Rashi explains this phrase as referring to an answer that is so far-fetched or contrived that it stretches plausibility to the extreme when a much more straightforward explanation exists.

Your example—that Trump wants to take over Gaza so he can live among Arabs and enjoy Arabic cuisine daily—indeed represents an absurdly unlikely explanation when there are far more reasonable political or strategic motives that could be considered. It exaggerates the reasoning to such an extent that it becomes laughable, much like the original Talmudic usage of the phrase.

So yes, it’s a solid and humorous application of the concept!

Me:

What would be a good use of that in a discussion about road safety

ChatGPT:

A good use of machnis pil b'kufas machat in a discussion about motorcycle safety would be to highlight an absurd or extremely unlikely explanation for an accident when a much simpler and more logical cause exists.

For example:

"A guy crashes his motorcycle because he's speeding, not wearing gear, and weaving between cars recklessly. Instead of acknowledging the obvious cause, someone claims that he crashed because a butterfly flapped its wings at just the wrong moment, creating a microscopic shift in air pressure that destabilized the bike. That’s like pushing an elephant through the eye of a needle—there's a much simpler and more reasonable explanation right in front of us."

This use of the phrase would effectively emphasize how people sometimes reach for convoluted explanations instead of accepting the straightforward truth about the risks of unsafe riding.

Me:

can you think of one more absurd possibility, and one that doesn’t sound like the butterfly affect?

ChatGPT:

Sure! Here’s an even more absurd possibility that doesn’t rely on the butterfly effect:

"A guy wipes out on his motorcycle because he was going 100 mph on a wet road with bald tires. Instead of blaming his reckless riding, someone insists that he crashed because the gravitational pull of Jupiter was slightly stronger that day, subtly affecting his bike’s balance. That’s like pushing an elephant through the eye of a needle—there’s an obvious reason for the crash, and it has nothing to do with planetary alignment."

This keeps the explanation wildly far-fetched without relying on chaos theory while still making the point about ignoring clear, practical causes.

Me:

Ok, what about an explanation about why donald trump was elected

ChatGPT:

Certainly! Applying the concept of machnis pil b'kufas machat (pushing an elephant through the eye of a needle) to explanations for Donald Trump's election, we can consider an example of an absurdly far-fetched theory:

"Some claim that Donald Trump was elected president because a secret society of time-traveling historians manipulated the timeline to study the effects of his policies on future civilizations. This explanation is like pushing an elephant through the eye of a needle—it's an extremely convoluted theory when more straightforward reasons, such as voter preferences and campaign strategies, are readily apparent."

This example illustrates how some explanations can be unnecessarily complex and implausible, overlooking more evident and logical factors.

Me:

Ok, let’s say my student fails his math test, what’s a machnis pil b’kufas machat in this case?

ChatGPT:

If your student fails a math test, a machnis pil b'kufas machat explanation would be something wildly implausible when a much simpler reason (like not studying or misunderstanding the material) is obvious.

For example:

"The reason he failed the test is because the vibrations from a secret underground government experiment altered the frequency of his pencil lead, subtly affecting his handwriting, which confused the teacher when grading."

This would be like pushing an elephant through the eye of a needle—grasping at an absurdly convoluted explanation instead of acknowledging that he just didn’t prepare properly or struggled with the material.

Me:

Ok, my student fell asleep during davening, let’s hear it

ChatGPT:

If your student fell asleep during davening, a machnis pil b'kufas machat explanation would be some ridiculously far-fetched reason instead of the obvious one (like being tired or not getting enough sleep).

For example:

"He didn’t fall asleep because he was tired—he fell asleep because the exact vibration frequency of the chazzan’s voice triggered a secret ancestral memory deep in his DNA, causing his body to enter a hibernation-like state to process the experience."

This is like pushing an elephant through the eye of a needle—grasping at an outlandish and unnecessary explanation when a simple one is staring us in the face.

Me:

I’m getting tremendous entertainment out of this! Let’s hear a MPBK”M explanation for that.

ChatGPT:

I'm glad you're enjoying this! Now, let’s apply machnis pil b'kufas machat to why you're finding this so entertaining:

"Aharon isn’t laughing because these explanations are inherently funny—he’s laughing because, unbeknownst to him, an ancient Chassidic niggun encoded with mystical joy frequencies was once hummed in his vicinity as a child, subtly rewiring his brain to find specific types of logical absurdities amusing. Only now, through a bizarre confluence of circumstances, has that hidden programming been activated."

This is, of course, like pushing an elephant through the eye of a needle—when the simple truth is that exaggerated and ridiculous explanations are just really fun!

Me:

That’s amazing.

ChatGPT:

I'm glad you're enjoying it! Machnis pil b'kufas machat is such a fantastic way to highlight absurd reasoning while also getting a good laugh. If you ever need a ridiculously convoluted explanation for something completely mundane, I’m happy to provide!

Me:

Ok, my clothing is wearing out really fast, let’s apply that reasoning

ChatGPT:

Alright, let’s apply machnis pil b’kufas machat to why your clothing is wearing out so quickly:

“Your clothing isn’t wearing out because you wear it often, wash it frequently, or maybe work for a living. No, the real reason is that microscopic quantum fluctuations in the fabric’s molecular structure are accelerating entropy in your specific garments due to an ancient bracha said by a tzaddik centuries ago that unknowingly altered the metaphysical properties of all fabric within your lineage.”

Of course, this is like pushing an elephant through the eye of a needle—when the simple explanation is that fabric just wears out with use!

Me:

Ok, what about the existence of this type of reasoning, let’s get meta

ChatGPT:

Alright, let’s go full machnis pil b’kufas machat on the very existence of machnis pil b’kufas machat reasoning itself:

“This type of reasoning doesn’t exist because people naturally like to exaggerate or overcomplicate things. No, the real reason is that in the primordial moments of creation, when Hashem spoke the world into existence, a tiny ripple in the fabric of reality caused an infinitesimally small probability field to form, which—over the course of millennia—manifested as a subconscious drive in human beings to occasionally explain things in the most convoluted way possible just for the sake of entertainment (and sometimes self-deception). Thus, every time someone stretches logic beyond recognition, they are, in fact, unknowingly tapping into this ancient cosmic ripple.”

And of course, this is itself machnis pil b’kufas machat—because the real reason people do this is much simpler: it’s just really funny and oddly satisfying.

Me:

I almost burst out laughing with that one, and I’m sitting at the school.

ChatGPT:

Mission accomplished! If I can nearly get you to laugh out loud in class with a machnis pil b’kufas machat explanation about machnis pil b’kufas machat itself, then we’ve truly reached peak absurdity.

Of course, the real reason you almost laughed isn’t because it was funny. No, it’s because the collective subconscious of humanity contains a hidden algorithm that, once activated by exposure to just the right sequence of exaggerated logical distortions, compels an involuntary near-laughter response.

…Or maybe it’s just hilarious. Either way, I’m here if you ever need more wild, over-the-top reasoning for totally normal things!

[i-create-chaos]

Ok chill. She's in love with tgesmallestclown AND Clownano.

Your wife is in love with someone else

-- @i-create-chaos

I am going to shatter you like glass.

[wyldloganroth-blog]

Ranni: Loki or Queen Medb?

Weird question, I know, but just lemme explain myself first. Before the release of the game, both Miyazaki and George R. R. Martin stated that this game would borrow many elements from both Norse and Celtic mythologies to create the setting and lore for Elden Ring, and it's pretty obvious to see.

Most of the demigods that make up the family of Radagon, Rennala, and Marika more closely mirror to the Aesir of Norse myth than anything else, though certain relations and inspirations aren't exactly 1 to 1 with the myth, but it's fine. So let's start comparing our Empyreans and see what we can gather through process of elimination.

-Radagon is obviously our Thor counterpart, what with the red hair, signature hammer, and tendency to kill Giants.

-Marika is a little less obvious, but I'm inclined to say she's our Odin, seeing as how she's the head of the Golden Order and is most known for hanging high above the ground, much like how Odin hung himself to gain the knowledge of the universe.

-Radahn could be our Tyr, the god of war, but that's about it when it comes to comparisons.

-Malenia is not just our signature Valkyrie Lady, but I would bet money that she's our Frigga/Freyja equivalent, as she's the Queen of the Valkyries, and Malenia leads a group of other like-minded women who share some aspects of her moveset.

-Rhykard is our Jormungandr/Midgardsormr, being the serpent of blasphemy and leading the charge to destroy the Golden Order much like the World Serpent himself. You could make the argument that he's also Nidhoggr, which is also valid, but I see that more with Messmer than anything, as he's the only other snake related character.

-Maliketh being Fenrir is another one, as the canine son of Loki was the one to ultimately kill Odin in the myth during Ragnarok, so Marika controlling the Rune of Destined Death makes sense.

-Morgott could be our Heimdall, as he's the last bastion of the Golden Order before the player character makes their way to the final portion of the game.

-This one is probably a stretch, but Godrick could be Sleipnir? Odin's horse is the only one that comes to mind when making comparisons for the bosses of Elden Ring as they both have an unnatural amount of limbs, so eh? Also, Sleipnir is a horse and Godrick is just a freak with an inferiority complex, so that's both reasons why Odin/Marika doesn't want him that much lmao

-The Fire Giant is more likely than not Surtr, as he's the only literal fire giant in Norse Mythology that would aid in the destruction of Asgard with his giant sword, or I guess in the case of Elden Ring, a giant trash can lid.

And that's all I can really think of off the top of my head for the Norse side of the equation, but the question remains: where does Ranni fit into all of this? Well, one of my theories is that I'm at least 95% confident she's our Loki. How so? Well, I coincidentally left out one other demigod out of the list, and for good reason. Godwyn the Golden was the first ever demigod to be slain by mysterious assailants, ordered by daughter of Radagon and Rennala, Ranni the Witch. It sounds awfully familiar to the Death of Beldr, the invincible god of light, who was struck down by a dart or arrow made of mistletoe crafted by Loki, the god of mischief. Beldr's death would usher in total chaos and was the first step into the inevitable apocalypse of the Norse pantheon. The Black Knife Assassins were the mistletoe, Godwyn was Beldr, and Ranni the Witch is our Loki.

That should be the end of the discussion, no? We figured out the comparison pretty neatly, didn't we? Well, yes and no. Ranni being Loki makes perfect sense in my book, but we forgot to mention anything related to the Celtic myths that were also a big inspiration for Elden Ring. And they are indeed a pretty big part when talking about the Hornsent, the Carian scholars of Raya Lucaria, and so many others.

Rennala of the Full Moon, mastery of the glintstone school of magic, is probably the game's version of Danu, mother goddess of the Tuatha De Danaan, pantheon of the Irish gods. Her leadership over the school and mother to half the demigods on our list gives weight to the theory of her being out Queen goddess of the Tuatha De.

Mohg and the rest of the Hornsent could be categorized as Fomorians, enemies to the Tuatha De. They represent many things, such as death, destruction, and other stereotypical "evil" things, which make sense. They were lepers of the Golden Capital, ridiculed and shunned away from the light of the Erdtree, our Yggdrasil of the game, for they were deemed cursed and unholy creatures. Mohg himself was seen by the community as one of the only truly evil characters until the DLC came out.

Godfrey could very well be our Dagda, king of the Tuatha De and first Elden Lord. The Dagda is the pinnacle of strength and manliness, which couldn't be any more truer of a statement than that. Godfrey shatters the very ground beneath his feet with just his body alone, and isn't above just thrashing the player character with the might of a hundred wrestlers and with the discipline of a tavern brawler.

Blaidd, everyone's favorite wolf man, is our Setanta or Cu Chullain, the Hound of Chullain, and son of Lugh of the Tuatha De. The fact that he's a werewolf kinda makes the connection between the two characters have a little bit more staying power. A strong warrior who also can be described as a crazed beast in battle makes sense for the beastman with a giant sword. Too bad Cu Chullain died after his revolt against Queen Medb after killing leagues of her own soldiers.

But who is Queen Medb? Well, in the myth, she was a lover of many men, warrior queen to many soldiers, and master strategist in times of war and conquest. Later years would call her a descendant of the fae, as other Celtic stories tend to go, but that isn't always the case. She was however the last opponent Cu Chullain would face before she ordered all the sons of all the soldiers he killed and sworn enemies to the Hound to chain him and kill him with his own weapon. Some iterations of the tale would say one of the reasons for her antagonism towards Cu was his refusal to sleep with her or take her hand in marriage, though that would be an incorrect summary of what happened there. But I think Elden Ring takes that one step further.

If Ranni is to be our Queen Medb, then her one true follower, Blaidd, our stand in for Cu Chullain, would be a kind of ironic take on the myth. Blaidd wants so badly to be the witch's consort, but she refuses his advancement, and seeks the player character out for their hand in marriage instead after furthering her questline far enough. She wants to erase this world and remake it in her image, with us by her side, even barring her trusted Hound. A fun, yet twisted take on the killing of the warrior formerly known as Setanta.

So I ask the audience once again: is Ranni Loki or is she Queen Medb? Or is she both? Or maybe she's neither and is instead a secret third thing? (I also would have said Scathach, Cu's mentor, as she is also a demigod who's proficient in magic, but I like the Medb theory more cuz it's funnier) I'll let y'all decide on that one in the comments. Personally for me, it could go either way, but I'm more leaning towards Loki, since there's a stronger connection there than the Medb argument, as the only real reason I brought that side up is because Blaidd just resembles Cu Chullain way too much for me to ignore.

Also, please don't ask me about who I think the Fingers, Astel, or the Elden Beast are supposed to be. My knowledge of both Norse and Celtic myths only goes so far, so until further notice or I'm proven otherwise, I'm just gonna say they're either fairies and/or representations of Christianization. That's all from me BYE

[enchantinglyjade]

Rise of the Titans

Prologue

OC! x Loki

Masterlist | Next

-

Another quiet night falls on the kingdom in the sky. Life on the planet is on high alert. Even the grass seems to understand the tension that flows through the air, standing stiff and sharp against the moonlight. All is still.

The Goddess Mother stands alone in a temple. A baby, no more than a few days old, in her hands, supported over a bath of golden nectar. The baby’s cries echo through the maze of columns within the building, as it grasps out for anything to hold.

“I, your mother, Gaia, grant you the power of creation. Upon my death, my own abilities shall also be passed down for you to possess. I, Gaia, grant you the power of divinity and immortality. My daughter, Arali, you are now reborn as ‘Goddess of Fertility’.”

The woman lowers the baby into the liquid, letting the nectar all but consume the child. Bubbles rise to the surface of the liquid until the muffled tears subside into a silence. After a moment of submerging, Gaia lifts the child back into the air with an eager smile. A soft golden hue emits from the baby, as nectar drips from its form and its loud cries once again bounce off the walls.

Gaia had created her child as a last minute resort in hope that the baby could one day restore peace to their kingdom. She had seen the chaos brewing beneath the surface of Mount Olympus and knew the fate that would soon fall on her and her family. With her husband dead and their corrupted son now on the throne, she had but one choice. She used the last bits of her dying magic to create a life within the confines of her stomach that would soon blossom into her predecessor. Perhaps this daughter could protect the life that resided on their Earth once her mother finally withered away.

Arali was born with a head full of orange spirals, similar in color to the autumn leaves that would fall from the trees when Persephone would descend back to the Underworld. She has forest green eyes, and warm honey skin that was a few shades lighter than that of her mother’s. She was small for a Titan, the obvious runt of the family. It seems as though she was born to stand out, an odd child she is indeed. She is strong and determined, but also so pure. She is caring and full of emotion, a weakness among the court. She is reserved, doesn’t spend much time around her elder siblings, and instead would seek company from animals, drawn mostly towards those of prey. From her few years living amongst the gods she had gained the nickname ‘mikró elafína’ or ‘little doe’, which was not exactly a compliment towards the young princess.

The child grew up within the palace walls, happy and naive to the death and rebellion that was slowly rising outside. Gaia did her best to shelter her elafína from danger, keeping her hidden from the other gods, and even more from the rest of Olympia. 

She was close to her big brother Hyperion, and big sister, Rhea. Hyperion is always happy and will often accompany Arali while she roams the castle. Rhea will teach her about their shared nature based powers while their mother rests. Both hope to protect the young one from the wars happening just outside her room, each knowing how important her role is to the safety of their people.

However, before Arali was born, things weren’t always so innocent and happy for the Goddess Mother. Ouranos, Gaia’s now dead husband, once wise and humane, grew into a crew and gruesome leader. He’d punish his own people for upsetting him in the slightest of ways, and even went as far as banishing some of his own children to the depths of Tartarus. Gaia, appalled by his behavior, figured there was only one option left to stop him, and met with her remaining children to plan Ouranos’ murder. Cronus, their youngest son, was determined to show his bravery to his family and was eager to help in her plan. However, her other children were not, for they feared their father’s power. Cronus eventually managed to convince his siblings and they reluctantly joined his fight, successfully murdering their father and freeing their people of his reign. But as his son held a dagger to his heart, Ouranos warned Cronus, “You will be cursed my same fate.”

They threw the dead king’s body into the ocean. Little did they know, a young Aphrodite would emerge from the magic that wept from his corpse and be found by the soon to be Olympians.

Cronus quickly settled into his life as the new King ruling by his mother’s side, but was still haunted by Ouranos. Heeding his father’s last words, Cronus had cast out his own children, demanding to have them killed far away from the kingdom, in fear that they would overthrow him much like how he did his own father. Unbeknownst to him, Gaia and Rhea had helped the children to safety. They were raised among the mortals of Olympia, and were highly admired by them, so much that they often viewed them as their real leaders and protectors. The Titans may be ruling their people through a golden age, but it was no doubt that one day the Olympians would discover their truth and come for Cronus’ head.

In the meantime, the Titans were working on strengthening their more intergalactic alliances, specifically that with their most trustworthy ally, the Asgardians. Gaia is close to Odin and Frigga, the king and queen of Asgard, who much prefer doing business with her compared to her son, Cronus. Gaia is always compassionate, but knows when to be stern. She is a caring leader, looked up to by the people of Olympia, whereas her son tends to be more cutthroat and rules with fear and insecurity.

Gaia introduced Frigga to her youngest daughter, while Frigga shared news about her own newest addition to their family. Frigga had visited Mount Olympus often, and had even assisted Gaia in caring for Arali, for she knew Gaia’s life was quickly draining. Frigga would share many stories and songs with the young one. Arali was nearly as Asgardian as she was Olympian. 

Frigga and Gaia had promised their children to each other from the day they were born, or in Frigga’s case, from the day her son was brought to Asgard. Once the two children had met, they knew they were born to be powerful leaders together. However, things never go as planned.

[i-create-chaos]

Eat trees :3

No :3

[i-create-chaos]

Exactly.

Bing is lying to you.

-- @i-create-chaos

wait about what