Arias vs. The Eternal Party
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Arias, in his boundless enthusiasm and complete disregard for logic, decided to throw a surprise party for no reason whatsoever.
“There doesn’t have to be a reason,” he declared proudly. “We exist, so we celebrate!”
Darian, staring at the absurd number of invitations Arias had already sent out, sighed. “You invited half the supernatural world.”
“Not half,” Arias corrected. “More like… three-fourths.”
Darian sighed harder. “Do you even know all these people?”
“Not personally,” Arias admitted. “But if you extend an invite to enough entities, the right kind of chaos will find its way in.”
And oh, did it.
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THE GUEST LIST OF ABSOLUTE CHAOS
By the time the party began, the house was dangerously over capacity with a mix of supernatural beings, ancient deities, and beings that probably shouldn’t be in the mortal realm.
* A pack of confused werewolves, who had been lured in by promises of free drinks and meat platters.
* Nyxa, the Goddess of Mischief, who arrived simply because she heard the words “chaotic energy.”
* A wandering necromancer who wasn’t entirely sure how he got there but decided to stay for the ambiance.
* A djinn bartender who kept offering drinks that may or may not grant cosmic knowledge.
* A sentient ball of fire that hovered near the chandelier, vibing to the music.
* An ethereal librarian who had arrived strictly to return a book that someone had stolen from another plane of existence.
* A minor trickster god who immediately declared a challenge: steal something from Darian without him noticing.
Darian took one look at the scene and considered teleporting anywhere else. He had learned from experience that when Arias threw a party, it never ended quietly. The last time he had attended one of his brother’s grand social experiments, it had resulted in an impromptu interdimensional scavenger hunt, three separate time loops, and a minor god declaring a vendetta against his furniture. He wasn’t eager to repeat that mistake.
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THE PARTY GETS… ALIVE?
The night started off relatively normal—if you ignored the werewolf territory disputes in the backyard and the fact that half the food developed sentience.
* The cheese platter staged a rebellion and had to be subdued by a very amused Nyxa.
* The punch bowl started whispering unsettling secrets to those who drank from it.
* The cake walked off the table and attempted to escape before Arias tackled it.
* A roast pig started giving life advice to partygoers, mostly unsolicited. "Invest in property, not potions," it advised a baffled necromancer. "Love is fleeting, but a well-cooked meal is forever," it told a starstruck werewolf. At one point, it locked eyes with Darian and sagely declared, "Your greatest enemy is paperwork." Darian, to his horror, found himself agreeing.
Meanwhile, the necromancer accidentally animated the furniture, leading to an impromptu dance battle between the dining chairs and a very competitive werewolf.
Darian, watching all of this unfold, pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is why we don’t let Arias plan things.” The last time Arias had organized something on this scale, it had ended with an accidental summoning of a cosmic entity that demanded a three-hour poetry recital before it would leave. This time, at least, the chaos seemed more contained. Relatively.
Arias, riding a floating couch, merely grinned. “This is exactly why we let me plan things.”
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THE WEREWOLF SITUATION
Outside, the werewolves—who had, up until this point, been peacefully enjoying the festivities—suddenly started arguing over backyard dominance.
One particularly large werewolf growled, “This is our space now.”
Another, equally large werewolf, narrowed his eyes. “Says who?”
A beat.
Then, without warning, they transformed mid-sentence and lunged at each other, knocking over the buffet table and causing several guests to cheer.
A group of minor deities started taking bets.
“Should we—” someone started to ask.
Nyxa, watching the fight while sipping celestial wine, waved a hand. “They’ll sort it out.”
Darian considered intervening but decided against it. If anything, this was the least chaotic thing happening.
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THE TRICKSTER’S CHALLENGE
Meanwhile, the minor trickster god had spent the evening trying and failing to steal from Darian.
First attempt? Darian’s coat. Didn’t work. The coat tried to bite them.
Second attempt? A drink right out of his hand. Failed. The drink froze solid mid-air and shattered.
Third attempt? His patience. This worked slightly better.
After the third failure, the trickster simply handed Darian a note that read, Fine, you win this round, before vanishing.
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THE DANCE THAT NEVER ENDS
At some point—no one was quite sure when—the party transitioned into an unstoppable dance event.
The djinn bartender played enchanted music that forced even the most reluctant guests into motion. The necromancer, originally an unwilling participant, was now breakdancing with a wraith. The werewolves, apparently having settled their dominance dispute, had joined the dance floor. Even the sentient cake, revived and accepting its fate, was getting down.
The minor trickster god reappeared mid-dance battle, just to smugly steal Arias’ shoes and disappear again.
Darian, arms crossed in the corner, watched the entire scene unfold with the expression of a man who had seen too much.
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Arias, twirling in the center of the madness, raised his hands. “We dance until the sun rises!”
And they did.
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THE AFTERMATH
By the time the first rays of dawn touched the house, half the guests had collapsed from exhaustion, the other half had disappeared into the ether, and the werewolves had formed a treaty over breakfast.
The djinn bartender packed up his mystical bar and vanished with a wink. A few guests, still holding half-finished drinks, blinked as subtle magical effects began to take hold—one werewolf suddenly found himself speaking fluent celestial, a vampire discovered he could temporarily see his own reflection, and the necromancer’s robe had inexplicably changed colors to a shade that shifted depending on his mood. No one was quite sure if these effects were permanent, but no one was willing to ask. The necromancer, now reconsidering his entire career path, gave Darian a solemn nod before shuffling off into the mist.
The ethereal librarian finally found their stolen book, glared at Arias, and disappeared into a portal with a disappointed sigh.
Nyxa, stretching and yawning, patted Arias on the shoulder. “10/10. Would cause chaos again.”
Darian, staring at the devastated house, the scorched furniture, and the lingering magical effects, exhaled slowly. “You’re cleaning this up.”
Arias, sprawled on the now-floating couch, grinned. “Worth it.” As if in agreement, a final burst of residual magic rippled through the air, turning every remaining piece of furniture into sentient beings that promptly began singing an off-key victory anthem. Darian closed his eyes. "I'm burning this house down," he muttered.
Darian & Arias vs. the Time-Traveling Portal (Who Invited This?)
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Mornings at their apartment were usually quiet—if one ignored the occasional supernatural disturbance. But even by their standards, a glowing, unstable portal appearing in the middle of the living room was an unwelcome surprise.
Darian, still nursing his morning coffee, barely reacted. “Arias.”
Arias, lounging on the couch, blinked at the swirling vortex. “Huh.”
A figure suddenly stumbled out of the portal—
—Arias.
Arias, but older, slightly disheveled, and extremely hungover.
“Ugh,” Future Arias groaned, shielding his eyes from the light. “Okay. So. We need to talk.”
Darian stared. Arias blinked at himself, then grinned. “Damn, do I age well.”
Future Arias groaned, collapsing onto their couch. “I don’t have time for this. We are dangerously close to unraveling time itself, and if we don't fix this now, we’re going to have a paradox so bad that even the gods will start panicking."
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TIME TRAVEL IS A BAD IDEA
As Future Arias chugged a suspiciously familiar bottle of water from their fridge, Present Arias leaned forward with a grin. “So, I get hotter with age?”
Darian sighed. “Focus.”
Future Arias, rubbing his temples, groaned. “Listen, time travel is the worst. Do not mess with it.”
Present Arias scoffed. “What, did we break something important?”
Future Arias let out a pained laugh. “Oh, you mean aside from literally everything?”
Darian, unimpressed, crossed his arms. “What did we do?”
Future Arias hesitated. “Okay, so technically it wasn’t our fault—”
A new portal opened beside him.
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SHENANIGANS, SHENANIGANS EVERYWHERE
Out of the second portal stumbled Future Darian, looking equally exhausted but significantly more annoyed.
“Nope,” Future Darian said immediately. “Close it. Right now.”
“But we haven’t even—” Present Arias began.
Future Darian pointed at Present Arias. “No. More. Stupid. Decisions.”
Present Darian smirked. “That sounds like a losing battle.”
Future Darian rubbed his temples. “You have no idea.”
At that moment, yet another portal opened, and a third Arias tumbled through.
This one was wearing armor, covered in glowing runes, and had an eyepatch.
“Okay, we definitely need to talk,” Eyepatch Arias declared, brushing off his shoulders.
Present Arias pointed at Future Arias. “Is this me, too?”
Future Arias groaned. “Gods, I forgot about this version.”
Darian pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate time travel.”
Then a fourth portal appeared, and an elderly version of Arias stepped out, leaning on a staff. His robe was embroidered with celestial symbols, his hair was silver but still wildly unkempt, and he exuded the air of someone who had seen far too much nonsense for several lifetimes. “I warned you idiots!” he snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at his younger selves. Then, muttering under his breath, he fished a flask out of his sleeve, took a swig, and sighed dramatically. "This is exactly how the First Timeline Collapse started. But no, I was young and stupid, just like you. And now look where we are."
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A MONSTER PROBLEM (BECAUSE OF COURSE)
Before anyone could make sense of the mess unfolding, the portals flickered violently—and something else started to come through.
The apartment shook as a gargantuan, reality-bending creature forced its way through the unstable portal.
Tentacles. Too many eyes. The distinct sense that it wasn’t meant to exist in this dimension.
Future Arias groaned. “Great. It followed us.”
Present Arias blinked. “Okay, that wasn’t on the invitation list.”
Eyepatch Arias cracked his knuckles. “Alright, you all handle the portal—I’ll deal with that.”
The monster roared, distorting the air around it. Time itself seemed to glitch in protest.
Future Darian sighed. “Here we go again.”
Darian set down his coffee. “I’ll get the sword.”
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SEALING THE RIFT (FOR GOOD, HOPEFULLY)
The ensuing battle trashed their apartment. Furniture was destroyed. The walls flickered between centuries. At one point, Arias was briefly five years old before snapping back to his normal age. The coffee table started narrating the fight in an ancient tongue. The toaster spontaneously evolved into a sentient being and screamed before disappearing into another portal.
A beat of silence.
Arias blinked. "Okay. So that just happened."
Darian, still holding his coffee, stared at the now-empty spot where the toaster had been. "You know what? Not even in the top ten weirdest things today."
It took three versions of Arias and two versions of Darian working together to shove the creature back through the portal—
—before sealing it shut permanently.
Panting, Present Arias collapsed onto the floor. “That sucked.”
Future Darian dusted off his coat. “Yeah. Now imagine doing it twelve more times.”
Darian groaned. “We did this twelve times?”
Future Arias pointed at Present Arias. “Because someone kept reopening the portal.”
Present Arias grinned sheepishly. “That does sound like me.”
Eyepatch Arias clapped his hands. “Well, that was fun. See you all in, oh… twenty years.” He vanished through his own portal.
Future Darian and Future Arias exchanged tired glances before stepping back into their own timeline, leaving the brothers in their thoroughly wrecked apartment.
Elderly Arias muttered something cryptic about the timeline never truly closing before stepping into his own portal and vanishing. As the portal flickered shut, a faint echo of his voice lingered in the air: "Oh, and don't ignore the comet in three years. Trust me." The brothers exchanged glances, then simultaneously decided they were not dealing with that today.
A long silence stretched between them.
Darian took a sip of his now-cold coffee. “So. Breakfast?”
Arias, still lying on the floor, gave a thumbs-up. “Yeah. But maybe let’s… not do time travel?”
Darian nodded. “Agreed.”
And then, in the corner, a small glowing portal reopened.
Darian growled. “Nope.” He grabbed a chair and threw it straight at the swirling rift.
It snapped shut immediately.
Arias chuckled. “I love our lives.”
The sentient toaster, now a god in another dimension, vowed vengeance. Somewhere earlier in the night, it had sparked suspiciously when the first portal appeared, as if aware of its impending ascension. Now, with newfound divine power, it whispered across the void, "You will regret this," in a voice only the bravest appliances could hear.