Darian & Arias vs. the Worst New Year’s Eve Party Ever

Darian knew this was a mistake. He knew it the moment Arias grinned and said, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

That was four hours ago.

Now, the remnants of a New Year’s Eve party gone horribly, cosmically wrong surrounded him. The destruction was absolute—chaotic remnants of shattered furniture, scorched walls, and lingering magical anomalies painted a picture of reckless celebration gone awry. The once-cozy loft looked like it had been hit by a meteor, set on fire, sucked into a pocket dimension, and then promptly spat back out in an act of divine rejection. Broken furniture, magical scorch marks, and suspiciously sentient confetti littered the room. Somewhere, a spectral mariachi band played on, despite numerous attempts to dispel them.

Darian exhaled sharply. “Arias.”

Arias, perched on what remained of the kitchen counter, grinned. “Hey, technically, no one died.”

THE PARTY THAT SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN

Arias had insisted on hosting a New Year’s Eve party despite having zero plans, zero organization, and zero actual invites. “The best parties are spontaneous!” he had declared.

What he had neglected to consider was that their lives were magnets for supernatural disasters.

The first issue? The Eye of Ka’reth, an ancient relic Arias had “borrowed” from a shady dealer, decided that tonight was the perfect time to go rogue. The cursed artifact teleported unpredictably, hopping between drinks, coats, and at one point, embedding itself in the back of Darian’s jacket like an inconvenient parasite. It also started whispering unsettling prophecies to anyone who got too close, causing one guest to immediately rethink their entire existence and leave in a state of existential crisis.

And that was before Thor crashed through the ceiling.

THOR, MEET CEILING. CEILING, MEET THOR.

At exactly 11:32 PM, a lightning strike shattered the ceiling, and Thor crashed through it like a comet. The impact sent dust and debris flying, nearly upending the punch bowl.

Darian sighed heavily. “Why.”

Thor shook off the dust, flipping his golden hair back with an annoyingly perfect motion, and scowled at him. “Darian, you absolute bastard.”

Darian pinched the bridge of his nose. “What did I do?”

Thor planted his hammer on the floor, causing a minor tremor. The glasses on the counter rattled, a picture frame fell off the wall, and someone near the couch let out a startled yelp before nervously adjusting their drink. “Mjølnir redirected a lightning bolt meant for someone else, and somehow, it bounced off one of your wards. You are, therefore, responsible.”

Arias, holding a martini, waved lazily. “Hey, happy New Year, big guy! Want a drink?”

Thor narrowed his eyes, but after a moment, he sighed and muttered, “Fine. But only if you have something strong.”

Arias promptly handed him a drink that immediately ignited upon contact with air. Thor, unfazed, took a sip.

ANUBIS, PARTY JUDGE SUPREME

Meanwhile, in the corner, Anubis, god of the afterlife, sat with a whiskey in hand, casually weighing people’s souls whenever they made a questionable statement.

At one point, Arias proclaimed, “This was all planned.”

Anubis snapped his fingers, summoning a spectral golden scale in the air. One side instantly plummeted like a brick, confirming the lie. He nodded, took another sip, and said, “Mmm. Thought so.”

Thor raised an eyebrow. “You just bring that with you everywhere?”

Anubis shrugged. “It’s a habit.”

THE DEMON & THE PUNCH BOWL INCIDENT

As if things weren’t already spiraling, a random demon crashed the party.

It started when the lights flickered ominously, and a sulfurous portal ripped open in the middle of the room. Out stepped a low-tier, overconfident hellspawn, rubbing its claws together.

“Ah, the new year approaches,” it hissed. “A perfect time to set the ceremonial punch bowl ablaze!”

There was a brief pause as everyone just stared at the demon.

Then Darian, without looking up from his drink, yeeted it through a different portal with a single dismissive flick of his wrist.

Arias sighed. “That’s, like, the third one this week.”

Thor, sipping his mead, gave an approving nod. “Nice throw.”

THE MOMENT EVERYTHING TRULY WENT TO HELL

At 11:55 PM, things took a sharp nosedive into chaos.

The Eye of Ka’reth activated, warping reality. The loft briefly transformed into a shifting maze, trapping Thor in the bathroom and replacing all the doors with portals that led to increasingly ridiculous places.

* One door opened to a dimension full of sentient crabs.

* Another led to an infinite spiral staircase with no end.

* The third just led to the inside of the fridge for some reason.

Meanwhile, someone (probably Arias) accidentally summoned a permanent mariachi band that no one could dispel.

Thor’s muffled shouts of rage echoed from the bathroom. "This chamber is cursed! I am beset by foul trickery!" From inside, the sound of running water and a startled yelp suggested he'd just discovered the faucet's automatic sensor, which he promptly declared an "unworthy foe." “DARIAN, GET ME OUT OF THIS REALM OF LIES!”

Anubis, entirely unbothered, just kept drinking.

Arias, now riding a floating couch, spread his arms. “Best. Party. Ever.”

MIDNIGHT FIREWORKS: A MAGICAL MISCALCULATION

By the time midnight hit, Arias (against all common sense) attempted to set off a harmless celebratory spell meant to create a shimmering cascade of floating lights.

It was not harmless.

Instead, a magical explosion rocketed through the loft, igniting the fireworks inside a pocket dimension, which then exploded outward in a kaleidoscope of unstable magic.

For a brief moment, reality itself hiccuped.

* Darian’s horns briefly turned into neon signs.

* Thor’s hammer started playing classical music.

* Anubis’s drink turned into a sentient mimosa, which tried to escape.

* Arias? Still thought it was a win.

THE AFTERMATH: THE DEFINITION OF ‘NOT OUR PROBLEM’

By 12:45 AM, the dust had settled. The party had technically survived.

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Darian surveyed the wreckage.

* The Eye of Ka’reth was gone. Probably someone else’s problem now.

* The ceiling? Still missing.

* The mariachi band? Still playing.

* Thor? Still here, demanding a proper duel before he left.

* Anubis? Casually disappearing into the void, leaving only an empty glass behind.

* The landlord (who is also a lich?) showed up, looked around, and muttered, “Again?” before leaving in silent disappointment.

Darian rubbed his temples. “Never again. We are never doing this again.” As if in response, a single piece of confetti drifted down from the ceiling and landed on his head, defying gravity as it wiggled slightly before vanishing in a tiny puff of smoke. Darian sighed even harder.

Arias clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Aw, come on. This was fun.”

Darian shot him a look.

Arias grinned. “...Okay, but next year, we get a bigger venue.”

Darian sighed. Hard.

The year had officially started.

Darian vs. the Annual "Brooding Tradition"

For as long as Darian could remember, he had an unshakable New Year's tradition: brood alone in his lair.

Of course, calling it a “lair” was dramatic even by his standards. It was just his apartment—a spacious but dimly lit loft filled with books, ancient relics, and just enough gloom to make it aesthetic rather than concerning. It was his space, his time to reflect on the past year, and his chance to stare into the abyss until it politely stared back.

Arias had other plans. Whether it was out of genuine concern for Darian’s well-being or simply an opportunity to create chaos, he never made his motivations entirely clear. But one thing was certain—he wasn’t about to let Darian wallow in solitude.

“Alright, enough of this,” Arias announced, dramatically pulling open the blackout curtains and letting in a flood of unwanted sunlight. “We’re going out.”

Darian didn’t even look up from his book. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

A pause. Darian finally glanced over, suspicion narrowing his golden eyes. “Out where?”

Arias beamed. “A New Year’s Resolution Support Group!”

Darian blinked once, then twice, his eye twitching ever so slightly. His gaze flicked toward the door, measuring the distance, calculating if he could make an escape before Arias inevitably stopped him.

Darian blinked. Slowly. “…Are you actively trying to make my life worse?”

NEW YEAR, NEW DISASTERS

Despite his better judgment—and Arias’ relentless insistence—Darian found himself sitting in a circle of folding chairs in a community center, surrounded by what could only be described as an assembly of self-proclaimed heroes and ambitious wannabe monsters.

The group leader, a middle-aged woman named Theresa, adjusted her glasses and smiled warmly. “Welcome, everyone, to ‘New Year, New You!’ Let’s go around the circle and share our resolutions. Who would like to start?”

The first to speak was a man in a self-made superhero costume—complete with a cape that was very obviously a repurposed bedsheet. “I’m The Justice Meteor! My resolution is to perfect my heroic battle cry and finally get accepted into an official league!”

Darian closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose. Why am I here?

Next was a hunched-over figure shrouded in a ragged cloak. Their voice came out in a theatrical rasp. “I am Lord Obsidian Nightfang, Master of the Eternal Eclipse! My resolution is to complete my transformation into an eldritch horror.”

Arias gave Darian a look that practically screamed ‘Are you not entertained?’

Darian slumped deeper into his chair.

The introductions continued, getting progressively more absurd.

* A woman with glowing hands declared her goal was to "achieve perfect chi balance and control every molecule in her body."

* A man in half-finished power armor wanted to "invent the ultimate exosuit" but admitted he was still working on the walking mechanism.

* A very enthusiastic vampire declared they would "finally drink ethically-sourced blood, like a proper modern undead."

Arias was loving every second of it.

SUPPORT GROUP OR BATTLEFIELD?

Things spiraled out of control almost immediately.

The Justice Meteor and a rival self-proclaimed hero, ‘Platinum Hawk,’ immediately got into an argument over who was the superior vigilante.

Theresa, the group leader, cleared her throat and raised her hands. "Now, now, let's keep this constructive—"

"He called my battle cry 'unoriginal'!" Justice Meteor interrupted.

"Because it is!" Platinum Hawk shot back.

Theresa sighed, looking helplessly at Darian just as the tension escalated.

“You’re just a guy with a flashlight!” Justice Meteor accused.

Platinum Hawk scowled. “Oh yeah? Well, at least I don’t use a folding chair as a shield!”

Tension escalated. Voices rose. Someone in the back started summoning ominous black fog.

Darian, exasperated, finally snapped his fingers—sending a telekinetic wave through the room. The two “heroes” were forcibly separated mid-charge, their feet hovering several inches off the floor as Darian pinned them in place.

“Enough.” His voice was calm but commanding. “Sit. Down.”

They immediately obeyed, looking properly chastised.

Arias, meanwhile, was having the time of his life.

Another member—a lich in a sweater vest—raised a skeletal hand. “I think this is a good time to remind everyone of our non-violence policy.”

The vampire gave a disappointed sigh.

THE UNEXPECTED HEART OF IT ALL

As the chaos settled, the group actually started making progress. A few of the resolutions were even... genuinely sincere.

* The woman with glowing hands spoke about wanting to mend her estranged relationship with her mother.

* The power armor guy admitted he just wanted to help people but didn’t know how.

* Lord Obsidian Nightfang, Master of the Eternal Eclipse, admitted that his "eldritch transformation" was mostly a cover-up for how hard it was to make friends.

For the first time that evening, Darian actually listened. Despite the absurdity, there was something refreshing about watching people genuinely try to improve themselves—even in the weirdest ways possible.

Arias noticed. He nudged Darian with his elbow, smirking. “See? Told you this wasn’t a total waste.”

Darian gave him a look but didn’t argue.

THE VERDICT

By the time the meeting ended, Darian was thoroughly done. Arias, on the other hand, was already considering making this a monthly tradition.

As they left, Theresa waved cheerfully. “Hope to see you both next week!”

Darian glared at Arias. “You are the worst.”

Arias just grinned. “And yet, you didn’t leave early.”

Darian sighed. Hard.

Maybe brooding alone wasn’t the only option after all. Still, as they stepped outside, Darian muttered under his breath, "Next year, my resolution is to barricade my door."