bakerstreet | New-Year's Party Meme

New-Year's Party Meme

New-years Party Meme!
Because not everyone kisses at midnight :D

Drinks, music, low lighting. This is the perfect evening for that little black dress or sharp new suit. Come together, everyone, for a toast to the future!

This is straightforward - just post to the meme with your character and play out what they're doing here at the party. Most everyone is lazing about, chitchatting and drinking. Does someone catch your eye, for better or for worse? Why don't you go say hello? It's a perfect night for making new friends - or new enemies - after all...

Need prompts? Have a few to get you started!

1. Schmoozing. Maybe you're gossiping with friend about that ugly dress someone wore or rubbing elbows with a boss. Maybe that stranger across the room is looking finer and finer the more you drink.
2. Getting a little too tipsy. You've had too much to drink and the results aren't pretty. It might be time to go home.
3. Pigging out. It's an endless buffet here and you are taking full advantage of it. Is that... bacon-wrapped shrimp??
4. Dancing! There's a dance floor and musicians performing, so don't waste it. Wait a second, is that person over there dancing with your date?! Or maybe someone else has to convince your character to take a step forward.
5. Being an immature party animal. You're just here to have fun and that includes having olive pit-spitting contents with your buddies, singing drunkenly out on the balcony, or fashioning a headband out of your tie.
6. Fireworks! Watch some fireworks or maybe do some stargazing with your sweetheart.
7. A scuffle! Maybe someone ticked you off, insulted your friends or that colorful tie you decided to wear today. Now you're in an all out brawl with them, glass is breaking, and it's a free for all.
8. Midnight kiss! Share a kiss with someone at midnight!
9. Freespace. Perhaps these scenarios aren't pinging you just right. Feel free to make up your own if that's the case.

(Snitched in part from here and altered to fit the New-years.)

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The Vongola New Year’s Eve Party was already in full swing.

But, instead of enjoying it with everyone, Gokudera Hayato was sent on an errand. If it wasn’t requested personally by the Tenth, he wouldn’t have bothered. Actually, he would have straight out refused. He had returned for the Winter Break to spend the holidays with all of his friends, having been studying abroad for the first half of his Freshmen year at one of the world’s top Explosives Engineering colleges. He hadn’t returned to play “Fetch the Mist” which was exactly what he was assigned to do.

Pulling the collar of his coat closer together against the winter cold, he fought down the familiar feeling of exasperation as he made his way into the latest hideout of the Kokuyo Gang. He couldn’t be bothered to be subtle about it, but he didn’t make any unnecessary ruckus either. Maybe he would have if he was in a more “sociable” mood. Letting the door close behind him, he unraveled the scarf around his neck, stuffing it into the fold of his jacket. It was relatively warm inside – certainly warmer than the temperature outside. Locating the stairway, he tucked his gloved hands into his coat pocket before he began his steady ascent up. Intel had said the most likely floor would be the fifth, so the fifth was his destination.

Once he reached the fifth floor, Gokudera exited into the hallway where he was met by a row of closed doorways. His expression remained impassive (if not a tad bit displeased) as he stopped right outside of Room 509. Releasing a small sigh, he removed a neat, little card from inside his jacket, his eyes darting down to it. “To the Kokuyo Gang,” he called in a loud, yet spectacularly unenthusiastic tone of voice, “which would include the Stupid Ass Chimp, Beanie Guy, Whiny Bitch, Kermit the Frog, and their leader, Pineapple Head, the Vongola Famiglia formally invites all of you...” His words trailed off as he wrinkled his nose in distaste. He might as well just finish it off his own way since he’d already taken the liberty of declaring their infamous nicknames. “...to get your asses to the New Year’s Eve Party already. It’s almost midnight, I need a drink, and the Boss made it pretty damn clear that I can’t go back until all of you show your ugly faces there. Didn’t he send the invitations out weeks ago? You could have RSVPed back that you’re not going. Chrome being there doesn’t count, by the way.” Even though he honestly wished it did.

The Kokuyo gang had moved into this apartment a little over a month ago. Kokuyo Land had grown far too drafty in the winter months, and a few near misses with collapsing roofs and walls had led Mukuro to the decision that the place was simply too dangerous - even for them - to reside in any longer. So he'd had Ken and Chikusa search for a suitable neighbourhood for them to migrate to, and Mukuro had eventually chosen this apartment to be their new abode. Entirely in secret, of course. Chrome had mentioned the move to the two girls who visited occasionally to deliver them bento, but no-one else knew that the abandoned, desolate Kokuyo Land now truly was abandoned.

(Well, until Tsuna had found out a week later while trying to deliver the invitations.)

Mukuro is woken from his nap by the sound of footsteps outside their door. Everyone inside the room tenses, eyes on the entrance as the footsteps come closer and then halt. Right outside their apartment.

"To the Kokuyo Gang..."

Everyone relaxes marginally. They've all come to know the Storm's voice and manner at some point in time. Mukuro doesn't even move from the couch and closes his eyes again as he waits for Gokudera to finish reciting from the invitation. The others take their cue from him and sit quietly, waiting to see what their leader will say or do in response. Once silence falls, Mukuro's eyes flick open again and he meets Ken's gaze. Whatever silent instructions were passed along in that brief glimpse, Ken marches over to the door and yells at it.

"We ain't interested in your dumb party, pyon!" Mukuro has his eyes closed once more. "Tell your boss we ain't comin'!"

Well, that'd just confirmed their presence.

“If you hadn’t heard me,” he responded mildy, “I can’t go back to that ‘dumb party’ until all of you agree to show up. Can’t you make this easier for the messenger? It’s not like I want a bunch of ingrates there either, but the Tenth says you’re Famiglia. Or at least the one who looks like a fruit is.” Glancing between the card in his hand and the entryway, he paused in his speech for a moment as he rubbed at his nose. “I see that stick has somehow shoved its way far past your ass by now, huh, Rokudo?” He continued his head tilting slightly as he took a step back. “Here,” he sniffed, returning his hands to the depths of his pockets, “let me do my proper duty as the Right Hand Man of the Vongola by examining how far up it’s gone.” And, with that, he reeled back, kicking the door wide open.

“Oh,” he stared at the unhinged doorway without a flicker of remorse, “it miraculously broke and opened on its own accord. You might want to get it fixed. Not very safe for security purposes, if you ask me.” Taking a step inside, he looked around the perimeter of the room before nodding his head once. “Okay, grab your coats, ladies and gentleman,” he sent a meaningful look M.M.’s way, “Don’t want to miss the countdown.” Or the feast, for that matter. He heard Mama made a lot of delicious food in preparation for the start of a new year and he'd be damned if he was going to miss out on it because of Rokudo Mukuro and his motley crew of snotty-nosed delinquents.

By the time Gokudera had stepped inside, Mukuro was sitting upright and gazing at the bomber coolly. In three years, the illusionist hadn't changed much. His face seemed a little longer, perhaps. His hair definitely so. It wasn't quite to the length that he'd had it in the future Tsunayoshi had saved, but there was no denying the tail of hair down his back (not that Gokudera could see it right now). Ken looked ready to bite the Storm for kicking down their door; Chikusa had his hand in the pocket where he kept his yoyos; Fran was...well, despite the bland look on his face, he'd already created another door to replace the one just kicked in. And M.M. simply glared.

Mukuro stood leisurely, straightening the leather jacket he was currently wearing. He brushed back his fringe and folded his arms casually across his chest, refusing to be baited into anger. "I thought I'd made my position clear to Tsunayoshi regarding social events," he said evenly. "Chrome is my representative at them."

“It’s like all of you have simultaneously contracted an ear infection today,” he said, clicking his tongue rather pointedly, “Chrome being there doesn’t count. How many years have you known the Tenth already? He’s not going to give up that easily. One ‘no’ just doesn’t cut it.” Ignoring everyone else in the room, his green hues had snapped unfalteringly over towards the Mist Guardian’s own heterochromatic pair. “This dump is really the last place I want to be at right now,” he went on, “I could be drinking a glass of whiskey or eating a plate of mouthwatering food while enjoying a working heater. But, no, instead, I’m stuck here trying to get you guys to show your faces for a nanosecond.”

He knew the Boss should have sent someone else for the job. Socializing was never his strong point. “Well, if you refuse to go, then I guess I’ll have no choice but to stay here until you do. You won’t mind, right? I didn’t think so.” Taking a few more steps into the room, he glanced around with mock curiosity, “So, do you guys have a fridge or something? I didn’t get to enjoy any of the food they've laid out because I was sent on an errand and I'm famished. Hey, is that a TV or...?”

Mukuro considered forcefully kicking the teen out. He could do it if he really tried. It'd probably involve the destruction of this entire floor, but it was possible. The Vongola often underestimated how strong he was in person after his defeat at Tsunayoshi's hands. The don was in a class of his own - even Mukuro acknowledged that.

Deciding that humouring the Storm rather than trying to go against him would be a wiser course of action, Mukuro sneered and collapsed back on to his couch. He made a pillow of his interlaced fingers and closed his eyes once more. "Let him stay," he said aloud to the others - namely the two most devoted to him. "He'll leave when he gets hungry."

There was no food to be found in the fridge or the pantry, or anywhere else in the apartment for that matter. Gokudera could share Ken's gum, but Mukuro doubted that the other would grow that desperate. As for the TV, it was an old CRT set and was there for show. Turning it on would only produce static.

Edited 2014-01-03 12:55 (UTC)

So permission was granted for exploration. Flashing a grin at Joshima, Gokudera began to poke his nose into the handful of rooms inside, pulling open any cabinets and rummaging through any drawers. There was barely anything remotely interesting though, which was a shame. But, then again, it wasn’t outside of his initial expectation nor was he actually interested by what they had. No, he just needed the excuse to leave some well-meaning presents behind – the same well-meaning presents he’d planted during his gradual ascension of the near empty infrastructure.

Once his “curiosity” was sated, the bomber plopped down on the end of the same couch his favorite illusionist was sprawled out on. “Man,” he started, leaning back, “even a mouse wouldn’t want to come live here. There isn’t a crumb in sight. Do you guys just survive off of junk food and takeout? That can’t be healthy.” A cigarette magically appeared in his hand as he slipped it between his lips. If he couldn’t eat, smoking was the next best thing. “So, uh,” he stretched out his legs, “I’m not one to beg and I really hate repeating myself, but I recommend attending that party.” Flicking open the cap of his lighter, he ignited the tip of his cig in one smooth motion before returning it to his pocket, “I hear a nasty storm is coming your way. Best to avoid it, you know?” He made a nonchalant gesture at the room with his hand, “Considering how shitty this apartment is, I wouldn’t be surprised if it just suddenly – oh, I don’t know – collapsed. Now, that would suck. Not a great beginning to a new year, right, Rokudo?”

Edited 2014-01-03 13:22 (UTC)

Mukuro seethed quietly upon hearing the telltale click of a lighter being flicked open. Cigarette smoke was a pain to dissipate and smelt even worse. But he made himself appear calm and continued to feign a nap. He wouldn't react to Gokudera's deliberate attempts to provoke him.

Except, the Storm's next words simply couldn't be ignored. He sensed Fran leaning over him.

"Master, the octopus head's been putting bombs in the drawers," the boy drawled blandly.

Mukuro opened his eyes and flicked them down to where the bomber was sitting nonchalantly, puffing at his cigarette and filling the air inside the apartment with its disgusting stench. He stared impassively at the other teenager for a long moment before tilting his head back and letting out an aggrieved sigh.

"Everyone: out," he ordered. He pushed himself up and swung his feet back to the floor, wearing faint annoyance as he waved away some smoke. "Go ahead to Tsunayoshi's...party while I deal with our visitor."

Ken complained most vocally about it, as he expected. But he followed the other three in shuffling, tramping, or flouncing out the fake door. Only once he and Gokudera were alone did Mukuro turn to acknowledge the Storm. His mouth was a thin line and his expression clearly spoke of his displeasure. "Let me remind you of something," he began, voice ice-cold. "I am not part of Tsunayoshi's family. I agreed to be one of his Mist Guardians in return for the guaranteed safety of my followers. No amount of coercion will see me appear at that gathering, not even the destruction of this building."

It’d worked.

Waving the four exiting the building goodbye, a satisfied smile settled over his features as he turned his attention back to Rokudo. He took a lengthy drag of his cigarette, filling his lungs with the nicotine-induced fume. Then, with an intentionally smug expression, he steadily exhaled a puff of smoke in the general direction of the Mist. “Yeah, yeah,” he replied, crossing his ankles, “You don’t have to remind me. I remember. ‘Not part of the Vongola Famiglia,’ ‘Don’t need to listen to the Vongola Tenth,’ ‘All Mafioso are horrible, so their parties must suck too’....”

Shaking his head slowly, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “You’re going,” he stated matter-of-factly, “You’re going because your gang has gone and I’m not about to miss out on Mama’s cooking just because one stuck up asshole decided he’ll play stubborn and refuse to show up at a harmless, little party.” Pushing himself gradually up to a stand (despite how comfortable it was getting on the couch), Gokudera jerked his thumb back towards the entrance, “Let’s go. I’d really rather not resort to violence today, but, if I have to, I’ll drag you down those steps and out of this pathetic, little apartment even if I have to sacrifice this entire area to do it.”

Okay, Hayato. Play nice. Holding up his hands, he started over again, “Alright. How about this? Let’s pretend we don’t irritate the hell out of each other and be civil here. If I ask you politely, will you come with me? I’ll even say ‘pretty please’. I’m not here to argue or fight with you. I’m here because the Boss wants everybody to enjoy the end of another year together. You should feel grateful that he’s included you in the mix.” A pause and then, “But you don’t know how to be grateful, do you? That’s always been one of your major flaws – aside from your hairdo.”

Before it could reach his face, something blew the smoke aside. Mukuro smiled thinly as he also stood. He wouldn't let Gokudera tower over him and give him any illusions about being in charge here. This was his territory.

"You're right, I don't," he responded, ignoring the jibe about his hair. "If Tsunayoshi wants me at his little gathering, he can come fetch me himself instead of sending his loyal dog to lace my apartment with explosives and threaten me into attending." Gokudera couldn't see them, but Mukuro was preparing to wrap himself in a thick layer of Mist flames in case those explosives did go off. Soft flames such as Mist weren't ideal for fighting, but enough of them could provide a cushion against other flames. "Leave," he said threateningly, trident materialising in hand. "Don't think I won't send you back to Tsunayoshi with your tail between your legs."

“You’re right,” he agreed, his eyes darting over to the illusionist’s favored choice of weaponry, “The Tenth should have come himself. But, let’s be completely honest here, who are you to have the Boss travel all the way from the comfort of his own home to invite you to a celebratory event. He’s extended his hand to you and it’s your choice whether you want to accept it willingly without issue or reject it with consequence.”

Resting his hand on his buckle, he readied himself for the offensive, a wary smile on his lips. “I might be just the messenger, but you shouldn’t dismiss me so readily. It’s been years since our last battle.” His green hues narrowed ever so slightly as the curve of his mouth arched upward. “I’ve been curious how much I’ve improved recently. You wouldn’t believe the resources the right kind of college can provide. It’s given me plenty of time to practice and hone my skills.” It had also given him the chance to study the other Flames too. Always useful in the field. “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is,” he remarked good-humoredly, “bring it on.”

Mukuro laughed derisively. Despite his having brought his weapon out he looked completely at ease. It was all part of his deception though - Gokudera should have known what he was getting into by stepping through that door, because entering the apartment meant entering his world. Mukuro controlled this space.

"As you wish," he said with a cruel smile. One of the rooms that Gokudera had rifled through (and, he assumed, planted a bomb in) suddenly exploded, obliterated in a smattering of concrete, wood shards, and steel. Dust and smoke filled the air, obscuring Mukuro from view. Given time for the dust to clear, Gokudera would see that the illusionist was gone. But Mukuro didn't plan on giving him that long. He'd try to take advantage of the explosion to attack from the side.

The sound of the explosion managed to catch his attention for a second. Although it didn’t surprise him, he knew it had effectively deterred him from the Mist. He didn’t waste a single second after that, initiating the Sistema C.A.I. Bone Loops materialized systematically around him covering part of the room with its shield of Storm Flames. His lips quirked up in anticipation of Mukuro’s next move. He might not have been able to see where he was or sense him very well for that matter, but his reflexes had improved and his Flames had grown stronger over the course of the past few months.

“Come on, Rokudo,” he taunted lightly, “Do you honestly think you can hide for long? Or that your cute, little illusions will actually hold? You’re just going to end up hurt, so why don’t we try to be civilized here?” His eyes scanned the small expanse of the room cautiously, all of his senses on high alert to any sudden movement or peculiarity. At this point, he’d rather not attack aimlessly or waste ammunition until he had a better analysis of the situation at hand.

Silence met Gokudera's taunt. Those 'cute illusions' the bomber mocked could atill be lethal, particularly if the Storm let them be. Mukuro was too skilled to allow any oddity to show in his deceptions, so Gokudera would be searching in vain for a tell. Better to use Storm flames to burn away the deception.

A projectile flew at Gokudera from his right. A small piece of concrete that could have been thrown by Mukuro, yet no sign of the teen himself. From below came another explosion that shook the building alarmingly. The floor began to buckle underneath the Storm's feet. In a few seconds it would collapse and send him plummeting to the floor below, if he was lucky. It would send him plummeting several if he was unlucky.

"Maybe you'd better run if you don't want the building collapsing on top of you," Mukuro's voice came finally, from nowhere in particular. "I won't be responsible for your death." If Gokudera looked outside, either through the window or the ruined remains of the damaged room, he would see Mukuro apparently outside already, looking up.

He might not have been able to throw off the illusions just with his basic five senses, but he was at least confident enough to protect himself from whatever stunt Mukuro was trying to pull. As the infrastructure began to shake violently and his balance became askew, Gokudera initiated his Storm Disc, propelling him above the ground. “You don’t have to worry about my well-being, Rokudo,” he answered, his grin widening, “Actually, I’m feeling pretty generous today, so why don’t I lend you a hand? Since you clearly don’t care about the destruction of this crappy place, I’m sure you won’t mind if I add a few additional cracks to it, right?”

Shedding himself of his jacket, he tossed it to the side as he revealed his Flame Arrow attached to his left arm. “If you think a couple of explosions can scare me,” he continued, inserting a thin tube of dynamite into the slot of the weapon, “you’re dead wrong. I’m a bomber. How many explosions do you think I’ve seen, how many I’ve been in.” Calculating the extent of the damage he could potentially cause in the room, he readied the cannon, aiming at one of the doorways he’d left open. If he aimed the projectile in that direction, it’d give it enough time to detonate. The damage would leave some cracks in the walls, but nothing irreparable.

He wasn’t aiming to destroy the building; no, if what Mukuro was doing had any authenticity to it, then he wasn’t about to help quicken the process. The issue was his current inability to differentiate between what was real and what were mere illusions, so that was the main objective of this particular Rain Tube. He had managed to decrease its overall destructiveness while retaining its ability to penetrate through other Flame’s defenses. It was especially perfect for disintegrating the Mist proponent. “Let’s make this perfectly clear though,” he murmured, tipping his head to ignite the end of the stick with his cigarette, “I’m not paying for the damages.” And there it went – his dynamite. He didn’t know how effective it was going to be, but it should at the very least weaken the opposing Flames considerably and hopefully provide him with the reality he sought.

As soon as he sees the dynamite headed for the area, Mukuro gets out of its potential range. He has no idea what its effect is but it is never a good idea to be near an explosive when it goes off. He's actually out in the corridor, peering in through the doorway behind the illusion of concealment he's erected all around, when it detonates.

The Mist flames in the vicinity are immediately consumed by the harsher Storm flames, causing the illusion that they're supporting to waver and distort visibly. Cursing, Mukuro channels more through his ring to fix it, yet the damage has been done. It would be stupid to assume that that one tube was all Gokudera had on him - now that the bomber knew that he wasn't looking at reality, he'd send out more of them until the entire façade crumbled.

Mukuro fled down a floor with more Mist trailing in his wake. Even knowing that what he was seeing was an illusion, Gokudera would have to spend time stripping away his flames in order to locate their owner. The illusionist didn't want to be in a confined space if he had to fight the bomber personally.

It’d worked.

The Rain Tube managed to confirm illusions were at work. But he was still at a huge disadvantage. For one, he couldn’t even be sure Rokudo remained in the vicinity of the room. Guess he had no choice then. He didn’t want to waste any more of his dynamites until he was certain of the Mist’s location. It was time to bring out Uri. Releasing her into the room, Gokudera sent her a warm smile, “Hey, girl. Let’s catch ourselves a prey. Then, we can go back to the Tenth’s to eat.”

She purred at him, her tail flicking back and forth in agreement. Lifting her head, Uri sniffed the air as her ears perked up, alert and attentive. It was time to sniff the target out. Although she couldn’t dissipate the Mist flames, she could at least follow its trail and she soon bolted out of the door in pursuit of where it’d lead her – and consequently him.

Gliding after her on his disc, he retained his caution since he knew he wasn’t completely in the clear yet. He couldn’t be sure if there was going to be any traps along the way, but, at any rate, he could still count on his Rain Tubes. Using a few of them to break through the Mist flames, he descended the stairs after Uri to the fourth floor. “Hey, Rokudo,” he called out, once he exited into the hallway, “what exactly are you so afraid of? It’s just one party. Show your face for like a second. It’s not that hard and it’s far better than playing this stupid, little game of cat and mouse with me.”

The floor below looked shaken by the explosion which had occurred upstairs. The rooms below the one which the Kokuyo teens had been living in showed the most damage, fine cracks slithering through the plaster around the doors. Mukuro was already on his way down to the third floor after having set a small trap for the Storm. It would trigger once Gokudera walked past the broken down lift. A bomb of his own, you could almost say.

From inside one of the rooms below 509, Gokudera would hear a weak cry for help. A woman by the sound of the voice, hurt by some fallen rubble which had crushed her legs. She would plead with Gokudera to come help her, but once the Storm entered the room which her voice seemed to be coming from, he'd get a nasty surprise in the form of a gun set to fire on anyone opening the door.

Oh, he’d heard the cry alright. It was clear as day and convincing as hell. His first impulse was to rush to the rescue because, believe it or not, he was a good person at heart. But, before he could follow through with his instincts, his skepticism and then his logic kicked into gear like good sports. First of all, he was fighting a Mist user which meant illusions were constantly at play. They loved to fuck with the senses and they were fantastic at it. Secondly, this was an abandoned building. Why would there be a random woman in an abandoned building? Thirdly, even if it wasn’t an entirely abandoned building, this was the Kokuyo Gang’s hideout. They were far too paranoid to share space with any outsiders – no less some perfectly normal and defenseless person.

So, there was only two ways to look at this: either there really was a woman in there or there wasn’t. If there was, she might just be as dangerous as Rokudo; if she wasn’t, it was still a trap. But, only if it was to clear his conscience, Gokudera sent a bomb to blow up the door anyway, standing clear away from it – and, boy, was he glad he did. The evident sound of a gun firing could be heard and he cursed under his breath. “We wasted enough time,” he directed at Uri, “Let’s go get the asshole.” And off they went to follow the trail of Mist flames down. God, he hated illusionists.

Mukuro heard the explosion go off and knew his first plan had most likely failed. Well, that was to be expected. It wasn't a trap for someone like Gokudera. At least it had slowed the man down enough for him to prepare a second obstruction, after which he continued to flee further down until he had reached the lobby. Considering the mood the Storm would be in, he'd likely just try to blast the second trap apart - and that's what Mukuro was counting on.

He glanced back at the building as he melted into the shadow of the alley opposite Kokuyo's former home. In the state it was now in, it was no longer inhabitable. A pity.

Blocking Gokudera's way, meanwhile, was a wall of thick, flowering vines. Whether the bomber tried to blast them apart or erode the illusion with Storm flames, Mukuro had also concealed something that would release a stinging irritant into the air upon reacting with the use of either.

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New-Year's Party Meme

Gokudera Hayato | Katekyo Hitman Reborn! | Closed

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