#sad 80 hours

[chipsncookies]

😢

[yellowtrinity]

hooked on fonics

[marshmallowgoop]

You came out of nowhere And you opened up my eyes to sunlight

[Song links: 1, 2] [YouTube link]

[reblogglelog]

Sad Boy Hours: Billy Batson

He's trying so hard to get the screaming adults in the room to just stop screaming at each other and be reasonable.

He is immediately dismissed and storms off, justifiably insulted.

And Billy goes right back to blaming himself, trying to figure out where he went wrong, how he could have fixed things, managed the emotions of the room better--even though he is 100% correct and the adults are absolutely failing, and badly.

"Even if he's wrong...I should respect him." Honey, the thing that's eating at you is the absolute dogshit way they act and then expect you to just accept as normal. These grown-ass heroes should not be hitting each other.

And a degree, honey. Several of them.

He sounds like a teacher trying to get the class to behave and that script keeps failing him. Over and over the adults around him dismiss him for his optimism, ignore his calls for reason. And they're heroes. They're the good guys and they tear into each other regularly and viciously. And Billy is fifteen years old in a room of adults screaming at each other. The team is sometimes down right abusive, and this child is trying to keep them from falling apart.

I worry about him, ya know?

(anyway, thank you for coming to my Sad Boy Hours)

[herenya-writes]

So @marlinspirkhall tagged me to write out my username (is that what we call these?) using song titles a few days ago, and I proceeded to spend no less than an hour and a half doing it. And then I forgot to post it.

H: Hungover in the City of Dust by Autoheart

E: Everything Will Be Okay by Home Free

R: Rhinestone Cowboy by Glen Campbell

E: Elvira by The Oak Ridge Boys

N: NFWMB by Hozier

Y: You've Got The Love by Florence and the Machine

A: All Star by Smash Mouth

W: Wild Blue Yonder by The Amazing Devil

R: Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash

I: Inkpot Gods by The Amazing Devil

T: The Skye Boat Song by Celtic Thunder

E: Eat Your Young by Hozier

S: Sold (The Grundy County Auction Incident) by John Michael Montgomery

I'm also supposed to tag as many people as there are letters but that's too much work lol. So I'll tag @beria1021 @and-claudia @ambrosiasquares @mossadspydolphin @thenorsiest @ifdragonscouldtalk (sorry if there are duplicate tags)

[justfriendsbestthings]

.

[our-inspire-verse]

Simon speaking! 6 days since i formed. I thought since everyone has been begging me in the system to talk on here that i would update or something.

My name is Simon Petrikov, i am a fictive from Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake specifically. I don't know how my story ends and I'm excited to see the finale on screen in a couple weeks or. Whenever. I'm not sure what to include first.

Um, i know that I'm a subdued energy in the body, and when i do feel a rise, it's usually from anger. When someone like Mitten gets intense, it's joy or love. I've noticed i have a lot of sadness and anger. Not to say "I'm a sad angry alter" or "i can't be happy" because. That is one major difference from my source so far. My overall voice and behavior is similar, but i dont come from a, what i call a self-tragic place. A sort of negativity that ruins anything for myself, self hatred, hatred of the world around me.

I'm so lucky to be in the system I'm in, i can recognize it. Existence has been incredibly hard. Being in a body with its pros and cons, being in this dimension, this lifetime, this vessel and world. And yet, i share this system and body with Zim. With Mitten and Kiba. These beings of warmth and love and light, that's basically just. Their whole thing, and they practice it and learn it and take pride in it. I'm a tired old man, i think that's my system role. Probably why Alder and Zim latched on the way they did those first days. Probably why I'm so. Low energy? Lax? Monotone?

Strange. But im settling in. Soon, i should dare to draw myself a new simplyplural profile. Drawing is surprisingly easy these days. I assign myself to work an hour, and i do. Mitten is so entranced by it that she rarely speaks up. I ask her about it, and she shakes her head and trails off, responding in some muted positive way. Watching. I'm not sure about her, just in the way that i don't know what her actual motives and hopes are. What is she going to do next? Who is she really? What is she going to BE next?

Anyway, this isn't about her, it's about me. I'm happy to be here. I think i finally, sorta comprehend existing on this plane, in this meat. It's good. Not everything is perfect, and there's some pain and grief i have to watch over for the others while im here, but it is nothing comparatively. I can handle this. And i have Mitten, Zim and Kiba for the ride.

[elegyofthemoon]

also honkai's lucky there isn't any archives i can sink my teeth into otherwise you wouldn't see me ever i'd just be knee deep eating all the lore through that

[reblogglelog]

I was doing my haha teehee post for this scene when I realized that Batman is a walking Trigger (capitol T) for Guy Gardner.

Sad Boy Hours: Guy Gardner

Guy Gardner has severe physical and psychological trauma. His dad is canonically physically and verbally abusive. Guy is pretty frank about it. So, Guy had problems before his frontal lobe got scrambled like an egg.

There are multiple times in the series where Bruce just has to give Guy an order and, counter to the way Guy acts with everyone else, Guy does what he's told. Now, it isn't every time. It wouldn't be Guy Gardner if he didn't try and piss off every human in existence. He knows they're going to find a reason to hate him, call him a piece of shit, so he'll give it to them on his terms. Because that's one way to cope with being the punching bag your whole life. Own it before someone else does. But, there are times Guy becomes timid in response to Bruce.

Guy Gardner doesn't know how to be quiet. There is nothing about this man that allows for subtly. It is physically impossible. The only reason Guy would be quiet is if it was to be bitchy and petulant, but that's not happening here. He's whispering and his eyes are on Bruce's hand, the hand that is gripping his shoulder hard enough to wrinkle the fabric. Guy looks stricken. The little motion lines around his head look like shaking. It's a jarring switch from the frothing man in the panel before.

All Bruce did was tell Guy to say he was sorry. Just to apologize. And he grabs Guy's shoulder. Guy doesn't have all his social tools anymore, but he has muscle memory and flight-fight-freeze, and he's using what he's got.

The "It's a start." is so disappointedly paternal. "It's a start" implies there will be more later. And later is never good.

I know it's not that deep, it's the 80s, they needed someone to be the team asshole. But, I'm also right because my brain is so juicy. Bruce is a walking trigger for Guy Gardner with his perpetual "Angry Dad" energy and the the fact that Bruce is the only one who can get away with bossing Guy around is a by-product of how thoroughly fucked up Guy's head is.

[marcvscicero]

lmaooo tiktok censoring has got so insanely ridiculous + nonsensical that last week, on a crazy amount of videos, loads of people were allowed to keep up their blatant sexist, creepy, childishly mean, racist, and downright cruel comments, yet one of my replies to them got removed.................... would you like to know the awful, unbearable, horrifically offensive thing that i wrote?

"weirdo"

............................................................... i am not even kidding ??????? like 5 of my replies got removed, even though they said nothing bad (like the one above) + i was just responding to way worse, way more evil comments, yet when i appealed them, they all got restored ??????? so clearly whoever looked at my appeal agreed that it was stupid ???????

anyways !! i deleted the app yesterday bc constantly seeing so much cruel + ignorant stupidity, as well as an insane amount of people with absolutely NO empathy for anybody, was actually making me angry + miserable............. like how can these people think like this ?? and how can there be so many of them ????!!!?????!!?

its so funny to me that people on twitter n tiktok are like "ok but porns still banned on tumblr so at least we're better then them" as if they dont have to typ3 w0rd$ I1k3 th!$ to get around their censors

[preetee-wid-4-es]

Jagjit Singh is so freakin sad omfl

[moonstonejpg]

lover boy (k. bakugou x reader)

cw: fluff :)

shiggy mention for my shiggy pals teehee

katsuki bakugou never thought that in his lifetime he would experience the kind of love he saw in the cheesy 80s rom-coms that he would sometimes watch with his mom. but then you blew into his life like a tornado, and suddenly he was diving headfirst into a love rivaling anything he’d ever seen on screen.

at first, he tried to shove all his feelings down deep, but it was so hard. you’d laugh and your nose would scrunch up, or you would rest your head on his shoulder, and all thoughts of putting up a wall between you would disappear. he’d smile back at you or tilt his head to rest atop your own, his cheeks warming and heart pounding.

so yeah, he was a goner.

and then you started dating, and katsuki could honestly keel over at any minute and be pleased he was ever in your presence to begin with. however, he was hesitant to let you know how deep his feeling ran, in fear of it freaking you out. And maybe it was silly, but—he barely understood his feelings himself, so how would you be able to look at him the same way if you really knew how deeply in love with you he was?

he's walking into your apartment when he notices your door is slightly cracked, your hushed voice traveling through the opening.

“but I love him, and I know he loves me, I just—I wish he would show me. sometimes I just feel like I love him more than he loves me, and it makes me feel sad.”

and that’s all he needs to hear before he’s turning and quietly walking back out of the door of your apartment. but he’s not running—not really. he’s determined, a destination already in his mind as he jogs around the corner, the chocolate shop in his direct line of sight. he takes a few more steps forward, then stops, his attention snagging on a neon sign hanging above the tiny shop. he makes a split decision, one he feels is right in his heart, and pulls the door to the shop open.

he’s immediately hit with the flowery scent of a candle mixed with antiseptic, and a muted buzzing coming from the back of the shop. a guy with dusty blue hair, gauges, and deep sunken eyes notices him from where he’s lounging behind the front desk, his feet up on the desk. the guy pushes his feet down and leans towards katsuki.

“do you guys take walk-ins?”

the guy smiles and nods before beckoning katsuki to follow him.

+

an hour later, katsuki exits the shop, tomura’s instructions playing on a loop in his mind. he walks back towards your apartment, the adrenaline wearing off a little and the nerves sneaking back in. what if you think it’s too much? what if you hate it? what if—

“oof! kats!” his body slams into another body, but the voice is familiar. he reaches out his hands, placing them on your waist to steady you. he peers down at you, then at the iced coffee now splattered all over his shirt.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I wasn’t watching where I was goin’.” he says, lips curling up into a half amused smile.

you smile back. “It’s all over your shirt! Let’s go back up and you can change.”

and he’s not thinking as he lets you lead him back up the stairs and into your bedroom, thoughts solely focused on you and how adorable you look in your outfit. he certainly isn’t thinking when he strips off his shirt while your back is to him, rifling through your drawers for the t-shirt you stole a few weeks ago.

“found it!” you announce proudly, spinning to face him.

and it only takes you a few seconds before your eyes settle in on a small black outline nestled in the top part of his ribs under his left pec. you’re dropping the shirt and crowding him back against the door, peering closer at the mark.

“kats?” your eyes drift up to his face, startled to see a blush flooding his entire face. you look back at the mark, the tattoo, trying to place what it exactly it was. and it takes a second of staring before tears gather in your eyes.

“d’ya remember that polaroid I have of us? the one where you left a lipstick kiss on the back? tomura, the artist, he did a great job copying the lipstick stain. so now I uh, now I have you with me always.”  

 “katsuki, this is—I don’t even know what to say.”

“do you hate it?”

“no! I just, I’m surprised is all.”

“if I’m bein’ honest…I heard you on the phone earlier, and I know I suck at telling you how I feel most of the time, but maybe this helps?”

“I’m sorry, I should have just talked to you about it first.” you whisper, tears blurring your gaze in shame.

he cups your jaw in his warm palm, steady gaze locked on your own.

“aw peach, don’t cry. you know I can’t stand to see those pretty eyes cry.” he mumbles softly, thumb swiping at the salty liquid trailing down your cheek. leaning in, he presses a few soft kisses to your face, rubbing his thumb across a few stray tears.

"I love you Katsuki, so much."

"I love you too, my beautiful girl."

"sooo...when it's all healed can I get one for you?" you ask, a smile lighting your face.

he peers sideways at you, alarm bells ringing. "…as long as it's not my name."

"what about 'great explosion murder god dynamight'?" you ask, trying to hold back a giggle.

"not a fat chance in hell am I letting you get that."

[strange-aeons]

hi strange i’ve been enjoying yr videos for about four years thank u for giving me giggles for so long. however i am writing as i am not totally sure who else to ask…

my boyfriend had a traumatic pneumothorax last week and about 80% of his right lung collapsed. i don’t really know anything about pneumothorax (although i have learned so much recently lol) aside from hearing you mention it and as such i don’t know how to help him :(

i know it’s a shot in the dark but i was wondering if there are any comforts or ways to alleviate pain you could share? thank you so much strange you are super tough btw to have gone through this several times this Sucks big time

many good wishes to you and your sweet hairless babies in the new year!

If it happened one week ago he’s already gotten through the worst part! I’m assuming he’s still hospitalized with a chest tube in right now??

When I was in that situation it helped a lot having frequent visits from my partner and family. Especially when they brought snacks!!!!!! Hospital meals can be borderline inedible and there’s no way of escaping to the food court when you have a chest tube in (unless you plan to deceive multiple nurses and risk life threatening infection through the OPEN HOLE IN YOUR CHEST. Don’t do that).

Good food can be a relief in an otherwise horrible time, so finding out what he really wants to eat and brining it will definitely help. If he has no appetite then things like smoothies or drinkable soup can be very helpful. I often live off booster juice and Tim Hortona chicken noodle soup when hospitalized.

Finding the right media to keep sane is also very important!!! Your sleep schedule disintegrates entirely when laying on your back full of tube for multiple days. 2AM listening to alarms go off and 6AM getting woken up for x-rays and 1pm having the lunch slop delivered and 3pm being woken up for x-rays and 9pm visit from your surgeon all become basically indistinguishable, especially if you have no windows. Podcasts were ideal for me because it can be very hard to find a comfortable position with a chest tube / pneumothorax and looking at a screen was often too much of a hassle. Queer as fact and fall of civilizations are both excellent if you want non fiction btw. Old gods of Appalachia or welcome to nightvale if you want fiction.

There’s not a lot that you as a loved one can do about his physical pain, but I will share some of my pneumothorax expertise with you and anyone else who might go through this.

There’s no nerve endings in the lungs so all the pain/ discomfort related to a pneumothorax has to do with pressure in the chest cavity.

The pain is the absolute worst when your lung is actively collapsing so when that feeling starts SHOVE SOME EXTRA STRENGTH ADVIL OR TYLENOL DOWN YOUR THROAT, then lay down and wait for it to finish collapsing. It may seem tempting to rush to the hospital as fast as possible (or rush your loved one who’s lung is collapsing to the hospital) but trust me the last thing you want to do with a lung that is actively deflating like a sad balloon is exert yourself (this is how I collapsed my lung the full 100% and could not move my upper body for an hour. Quirky). Give it at least 30 minutes of floor time before you try to move. You will have a way better time getting to the hospital.

Wait sorry I lied lung re-inflation hurts sometimes more than the initial collapse. The sometimes are the times when ER nurses do not know how to do it properly. Immediately after they put the chest tube in, they attach it to a suction machine to suck out the excess air in your chest cavity. I do not know if these machines are the same internationally (I’m Canadian) but if you’re dealing with one where the settings are percentages, the one you want is 20% suction. NOT 100%!!! that just causes unnecessary excruciating pain without being more effective. I have had to fight numerous nurses while in the worst pain of my life to TURN THE PAIN MACHINE DOWN. fuck the pain machine. Anyway. After the pain machine they leave the tube in for a few more days to make sure the lung stays inflated. Nearing the end of that process, most of the discomfort is caused by the tube itself, so as horrible disgusting the worst getting that thing ripped out is, just know you will feel so much better after.

Throughout the healing process (and in the case of small pneumothoraxes not requiring chest tubes — I’ve had over 10 of those ones) I’ve noticed that heightened discomfort lasting a few minutes results from going from laying down to standing up or vice verse, or from bending over. This is why I have pioneered the sophisticated technique know as the pneumothorax squat. It is just as cool and hot as you’re imagining.

This post was supposed to be about how to support a loved one with a pneumothorax what the heck am I even talking about now.

Most of what he’s going to need will seem boring or insignificant. Companionship. Food. Medication. Toiletries. COMPANIONSHIP. podcast recommendations. But it absolutely is not insignificant. Abruptly losing mobility, independence, and bodily autonomy as a young person is really fucked up and I cannot fathom doing it without my family and my partner, even if most days that consisted of talking to me and bringing me smoothies and underwear.

Wishing a quick recovery to your boyfriend! Good luck with everything!!

[maxwellatoms]

In one of your last answers, you said “series reboots are usually pretty gross and sad”, and I was wondering if you could expand on that? Assuming “reboot” covers any kind of continuation of a currently cancelled or finished show (and maybe that’s the wrong assumption!), from the outside looking in it feels like a pretty mixed bag. On one hand, if I love XYZ Show, it’s cool that I get more stories with these characters and another chance to support XYZ Show and its creators. On the other, it definitely feels like a lot of ideas can only get funding if they’re tied to something already, meaning creatives are having to now tie whatever cool idea they have to some reboot/relaunch/retread, which can feel pretty disheartening if you don’t want to do a reboot/relaunch/retread. Is that a similar feeling from your side of the industry?

Thank you so much for all your answers and insight!

Usually reboots and spin-offs are just cash grabs. It happens a lot in animation. In fact, I would argue that the entire industry is just one big cash grab now. In the 80s, everyone complained that cartoons were just half-hour commercials for toys. And they were right. And we're right back there, but now that you can't legally push toys all day, it's just general "IP". Mugs, posters, more spinoffs, whatever.

I was offered three show running gigs over the pandemic. All reboots that I would consider unwise to pursue because they were "of a different time" and didn't (in my opinion) have anything more to say. Two of them were properties created by notorious sex pests, so there's also that. The animation industry loves to prop up its sex pests.

I turned all of them down, partially because I didn't respect the original creators but also because none of them had anything going for them except just being "more of the same".

I don't think any of those projects survived the intervening years, so in retrospect I maybe should've taken the job. I'd probably feel a bit gross, but at least I'd have floors in my house.

The entertainment industry is in a bad spot. The whole thing. I've had I don't know how many pitch meetings in the last few years, and they all start the same way:

"Hey! Before we start, we just want to let you know that we're not actively producing anything right now. We think maybe soon, but we won't be picking anything up today..."

And then later:

"The little we are doing is IP, so if you have a new take on our IP or a new IP you're connected to that you can bring in, that'd be great."

I always wanted to make original stuff. There came a time when I'd had my fill of Billy & Mandy and wanted to do something else new and original. That never manifested, and I was constantly being offered IP to produce. I turned too many of those down, maybe, before deciding that it was probably better that I run the IPs that mean something to me rather than having some hack do it.

But now those jobs have all gone to celebrities and fallen live-action writers, who are also slowly being eaten by the system. WB was hot for Scooby stuff a few years back, so I pitched some ideas. A few of them were turned down for being "off-brand" in a variety of ways. WB has now made (I think) all of those off-brand shows (or something close) with celebrity show runners.

I was going through a whole Midlife Impostor Syndrome thing recently where I was wondering if maybe I don't just suck. Like, it's weird that for a couple of decades I'd have people calling me trying to get me to run shows, and now nobody will call me back about the possibility of a design job.

Talking to some friends and realizing that they were in a similar situation helped me feel like I wasn't alone. That was nice. Talking to some of the most talented colleagues in my industry made me made me realize that those people weren't getting jobs either. That was unnerving. Talking to complete strangers in other parts of the entertainment industry now has me thinking that the whole house of cards is coming down. That's real concerning, yo.

It's hard not to think it's purposeful, when deranged billionaires own the entirety of our media and want to shape a society where they can't be criticized. We're letting wealthy tech bros firebomb the very heart of our culture, and it's weird that no one is talking about it. Because (for now) we still have that capability.

[comicaurora]

You mentioned in a previous ask about Arcane that wanting to do something better can be a great motivator, but recently I've seen a lot of discussion about fanworks created out of "spite" like Spiderman Lotus or that Transformers fan film. Do you think these come from different feelings, leading to their end result, or that the motivation just needs to be handled carefully?

Ah, I see the confusion. When you have ideas for what a story could do, and then the story goes in a different direction and bypasses what you thought it would do, that can be an incredibly useful motivator for using that unused inspiration for telling your own story. Taking someone else's completed artwork and saying "move over, idiot, I'll show you how it's done" is a recipe for hubristic self-immolation.

Setting out to "fix" someone's work has to be approached very carefully. Artistic criticism is a complicated skill, but it isn't treated that way. Especially in the age of the internet, several wildly different things have been conflated under "criticism", and I think that's why spite-motivated "fixes" almost always end up tripping on their shoelaces and falling flat.

Art critique - "fixing" someone's work - is about figuring out how to make the art the most effective version of itself. Determine what it's going for, and make suggestions for how the artist could improve the execution of that goal. Clarify a confusing moment, change the score a little to be more emotionally impactful, break up the pacing with moments to breathe, tighten up the pacing to maintain the frantic vibes.

However, the broad perception of what art critique is has been bundled together with several other forms of criticism, including snarky reviews (a judgment of quality rendered after a work is completed and aimed at prospective audiences so they don't end up wasting their money), general knee-jerk mockery (it is easy and fun to score points off of other people's sincerity via a little casual bullying), critical analysis (taking apart how a story works to learn from it, a useful approach for other artists trying to improve their own skills) and, of course, fanfiction.

Ahh, fanfiction! If you don't like a story, you can just take the characters, setting, premise, worlbuilding, and the general shape of the plot - ignoring the fact that at this point you've borrowed about 80% of the work that went into building the original story already - and then you can just make the characters do what you wanted instead. If you think Spider-Man would be better if everyone was miserable and grieving a dead buddy the whole time, you can do that! Two hours of misery for everyone!

This approach is ostensibly trying to accomplish what art critique does - to make a better version of the story. But in practice, it's almost never interested in interrogating what the story was actually going for. In fact, it's actively scornful of what the story was going for. It doesn't take it apart to see what did work, it just says "I didn't like that and I could do better" and produces something trying not to be like the original it disliked.

I kind of think of it like this. If you ate a meal and you were like "there's not enough salt in this," you would not produce a better meal by focusing exclusively on loading it down with all the salt you could find, even if you were starting with all the same ingredients. Do you understand how they were put together to begin with? How the meat was brined, how the vegetables were cooked, what seasonings went where? Do you think all it needed to make it work was salt?

So you get fanworks that do indeed focus on the part that the fanartist thought was missing. You get Spider-Man Is A Sad Jerk For Two Hours. It accomplished what the fanartist wanted, but it fails in its true goal of being Like The Original But Better, because it never actually made the effort to understand what made the original tick. Why do people like Spider-Man in his other movies? Well, there's lots of reasons that work for different audiences - he's funny, he's good-hearted, he's graceful and well-choreographed, his fight scenes are fluid and exciting, his dynamic with the people of New York is lively and comedic, he's hapless and hurting but he always tries his best, he gets knocked down but he always gets back up-- there are many reasons to like these stories. But if all you can focus on is what you wanted them to add, you'll have a lot of trouble parsing out what functional elements you'll need to carry over into your fanfiction to not lose the core of what made it actually mostly work.

If all you focus on is accentuating the bits you wanted them to do without recognizing the parts that were working fine, you end up with a heaping plate of salt.

✨ as the ask states, this post is very specifically about spite-motivated "I can do it better than the writers" fanworks and not fanfiction in general ✨

[frostimochi]

resolutions

(logan howlett x reader)

summary: You and Logan attend a New Years party hosted by Wade. With the countdown to midnight, you both get caught up in the moment and share an intimate moment with each other.

word count: 2.4k

author's note: i unironically had a dream about this the other night, so of course i had to share with the class, days earlier than planned. this takes place a year after deadpool & wolverine. enjoy! :>

find it on ao3 here

. . .

New Years was awfully unpredictable for you. Every year seemed to bring a different mix of highs and lows, leaving you wondering whether the holiday was even worth celebrating. This year, you didn’t even plan to—until Wade showed up with an invitation to his apartment against your will, promising the "social event of the decade." Against your better judgment, you agreed, dragging Logan along as your buffer for whatever insanity awaited. After all, how bad could it be?

It turned out, predictably, to be very bad.

The party was chaotic, as expected when Wade was involved. Streamers hung haphazardly from the ceiling, balloons were scattered across the floor, and someone had already popped open a bottle of champagne—two hours early. The stereo blasted a mix of '80s rock and whatever Wade had decided was "party music," which helped to create an unforgettable experience. And not in a good way.

Surrounding the room, couples were unable to keep their hands to themselves, unflatteringly in your direction. One group of friends were drunkenly laughing as they took selfies under a sagging strand of broken lights, while others swayed together to the mismatched beat of Wade’s horrendous playlist. You watched everything unfold, while Dogpool sat on your lap, constantly begging you for more cuddles.

Logan sat on the couch beside you, opening a bottle of beer, his expression a mix of irritation and mild amusement. He never wanted to come, but you’d convinced him. And of course, how could he say no? The promise of decent company and free booze was enough to get him to tag along. And though he wouldn't say it out loud, he also secretly loved spending time with you.

As Wade danced dramatically in the corner among the rest, Logan shot you a look that said, "This is your fault."

You laughed at his expression, your hands still on Dogpool as you nudged his arm. 

"Come on, admit it. You’re having a little fun."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Watching Wade do... whatever the hell that is? Sure, a riot."

"It’s interpretive dance," Wade called out, spinning in a circle before collapsing dramatically onto the floor. "I’m expressing the tragedy of running out of nachos."

Logan rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a barely there smile. You caught it and grinned.

“Come here, Mary Puppins! Daddy has a surprise for you!” Wade shouted, diving toward you and grabbing Dogpool out of your lap before you could protest.

You blinked, hands still frozen in mid-air. "What the hell, Wade? She’s comfortable!"

Wade cradled Dogpool dramatically, making kissy faces at her. "Oh, but I have something better," he said in a sing-song voice. "A little treat she’ll never forget."

Logan raised an eyebrow from where he sat, grasping onto his beer bottle while watching the scene unfold. "Oh boy.”

You sighed, already knowing this wouldn’t end well. "I swear, if you try to feed her something weird—"

"Don’t worry," Wade interrupted with a grin. “I made her something special, to dedicate my first year with Puppins here, of course.”

"Let me guess," you said, crossing your arms. "You’re feeding her leftover pizza crusts and ranch dressing?"

Wade’s face lit up. "Are you shitting me? I’ve got something way better than that!" With that, he dug into the pocket of his absurdly tight pants and pulled out a tiny, half-melted sandwich. You swore that you could see a tiny bit of mold in it.

 "Behold, a hot dog sandwich! You know, for dogs, because they deserve the best."

Logan stared at the sad creation in disbelief. "That’s just a hot dog in a bun. For you."

"Fuck no!" Wade grinned, holding the sandwich up like it was the Holy Grail. "This is an exclusive Dogpool meal—made with delicate care!"

Logan let out a low chuckle as Dogpool tried to squirm free from Wade’s arms, clearly more interested in anything but what her own owner had in store for her. 

You grinned at Logan. "It’s a shame. This could have been a bonding moment for the two of them.”

Wade, completely unfazed by Dogpool's lack of enthusiasm, tried to coax her into taking a bite, which ended up with him chasing her around the apartment.

 "Come on, sweetie! You can’t say no to this!”

"Guess Dogpool's smarter than all of us," Logan muttered, taking a swig of his beer as Wade continued his one-dog food fight.

You chuckled to yourself as you watched Wade flailing around the place, bumping into others without a care in the world. Logan’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile, something that only appeared when he knew you were genuinely amused.

"Well, looks like I haven’t completely ruined your night," Logan remarked dryly, leaning back into the couch and taking another sip of his beer. His eyes stayed on you, still holding the faint smile on his face.

You nudged him gently with your elbow. "You’re enjoying this more than you thought you would."

His gaze flickered away for a moment before he gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching again. "Maybe a little," he muttered, clearly not wanting to give you the satisfaction of admitting it outright.

. . . 

As the night rolled on, a few more guests trickled in, and the energy of the room continued ebbing and flowing. Wade was missing for a bit, which kept things steady for a while. Logan stayed close to you, content to observe rather than participate. You didn’t mind; his dry commentary on the festivities kept you entertained.

You checked your watch for a moment. It was 11:48 pm. Leaning back in your seat, your eyes drifted back to Logan, wanting to start a conversation amidst the awkward silence.

"So, what’s your resolution?" you asked him as the clock neared midnight.

Logan’s gaze flicked to you. "Don’t do resolutions."

"Why not?"

"What’s the point? People make ‘em and break ‘em in the same week."

"Not everyone," you said. "Some people actually stick to them."

"You?" he asked, tilting his head. "What’s yours?"

You went into thought for a moment. You? A new year's resolution? Every time you’ve attempted to stick with one, it always ended up blowing up in your face. If there was anything you wanted more than anything to succeed in, it would probably be to get with Logan. Of course, the concept of it was foreign, but you fell for him the minute you met him. You knew that under the circumstances of what the two of you have been through, there was no chance you could tell him how you felt, or know if he reciprocated the same way.

But maybe it was time to put that all behind. A new year was approaching after all.

There was a long pause before you responded.

 "To... take more risks, I guess."

Logan’s lips quirked. "Risks, huh? Like coming to a party with this crowd?"

"Sure," you said with a laugh. "Your turn."

He shook his head jokingly. “Same as you.”

Before you could press him further, Wade appeared, clapping his hands loudly. "Alright, people! Ten minutes to midnight! Time to get your New Year’s smooch plans in order. No shame in making deals, folks."

Everyone around the room had somebody close to them for the big countdown. It made you glance back at Logan. "You got a lucky someone?"

He gave you a look that made your stomach flip, but he said nothing. Instead, he took another sip of his beer, shaking his head.

A heavy sigh escaped you as you stood up, glancing around one last time. It seemed like nothing was going to change tonight. You made your way towards the kitchen, grabbing a drink to settle the quiet disappointment that had settled in your chest.

. . .

As the countdown began, the room filled with excitement. People paired off, others grabbed sparklers from a box Wade had inexplicably found, and you felt a small pang of awkwardness as you realized you didn’t have a plan for the midnight kiss. You hadn’t thought much of it; you’d figured it wasn’t a big deal.

"Ten!" Wade’s voice boomed over the music, causing the entire room to erupt into excitement. 

People cheered and clinked glasses as the countdown began in full force. You could hear the muffled echo of it coming from every direction, but your focus remained on the drink in your hand, the sudden unease gnawing at you.

"Nine!" Wade continued, getting even louder. You shifted uncomfortably, your eyes darting to the couples already pairing up, lips ready for the tradition. It was just a kiss, right? A simple tradition, nothing more. But why did it pang your heart this much?

"Eight!" 

The countdown sped on, the crowd growing louder, more energized. Your heart rate picked up in a way you couldn’t explain.

"Seven!"

 You turned your head, glancing over your shoulder to the bar, then to the group by the windows, still holding your drink. But your mind was far from the surroundings. You hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t thought much about it until now. The idea of a midnight kiss had always felt trivial before, but tonight it seemed to matter for some reason you couldn’t grasp.

"Six!" 

You looked around for something to distract you, anything to break the tension building in your chest. But as your gaze shifted around the room, you realized that Logan had somehow made his way closer to you, inching his way through the crowd, his quiet presence unnoticed by you as you remained lost in your own swirling thoughts.

"Five!" 

The countdown ticked on, but your awareness narrowed to just the space between you and Logan. You felt a presence beside you, and for a moment, you didn’t even realize it was him until you looked up—his steady, unreadable eyes meeting yours. The air felt different, and you couldn’t tell if it was just the alcohol or something else entirely.

"Four!" 

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. You felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach, but there was a softness in his eyes that made everything else fade. The crowd continued to cheer, to count down, but all you could hear was the steady beat of your own heart, drowning out the noise.

"Three!" 

Logan's hand brushed against yours. Deliberate, yet gentle, and the contact sent a small spark racing up your arm. You couldn’t help but look at him, a question in your eyes. Was this... real? 

"Two!" 

Logan’s face was in front of you, his hand reaching up to your face, his touch warm and steady against your skin. You couldn’t breathe for a moment, your heart racing at a pace you hadn’t expected. His thumb gently brushed over your cheekbone, a tender gesture that only made everything feel more overwhelming.

The countdown faded into the background as his face inched closer. Your thoughts scrambled, but there was only one certainty you understood. The way Logan was looking at you, the way everything seemed to quiet around you. 

You didn’t pull away. You didn’t need to. For the first time that night, you felt grounded.

“One!”

The room erupted in cheers, but all you felt was Logan’s lips on yours. Warm, firm, and completely unexpected. The kiss was brief, but it lingered, a moment suspended in time.

 When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, an expression of quiet uncertainty mingled with something more. His lips were slightly parted, as if he was trying to process the same rush of emotions you were. Neither of you spoke. You simply stood there, close enough to feel each other’s breath, the world around you seeming to slow down even further. His gaze softened, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. But he didn’t say anything—not yet.

The noise of the room swirled back into focus, but it felt distant, like a muffled backdrop to what you both were experiencing in that exact moment. Logan’s hand was still resting against your cheek. Warm, like it had always belonged there.

"Didn’t think I’d be here, doing this," Logan muttered under his breath, his eyes still locked onto yours. There was something vulnerable in his voice, and it made your heart beat faster.

Before you could respond, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as though trying to dismiss the weight of the moment. "Wade’s probably gonna never let us live this down," he added, the ghost of a grin curling his lips.

You couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. "You don’t have to worry about him. I’ll take the blame," you said, the tension between you easing slightly.

Logan looked at you, his gaze more serious now, though there was still a glimmer of playfulness in his eyes. "I’m not so sure I mind…”

There was a pause of silence, but neither of you moved.

“Guess this is what happens when I let you talk me into things,” he said, his voice teasing but warm.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “I’m not complaining.”

He gave you a half-shrug, a small, hesitant smile pulling at the corner of his lips. " I’ve been thinking about this. Longer than I should’ve."

A mixture of surprise and warmth flooded through you. You could feel your cheeks flush, but the sudden honesty in his words was enough to settle the fluttering nerves in your chest.

"I’ve been thinking about it too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, the truth coming out more easily than you'd expected. "Longer than I realized.”

His thumb gently traced the edge of your jaw, a gesture both comforting and intimate, as he let out a smirk.

"Guess we’ve been a little slow on the uptake, huh?"

“Let’s leave that for last year.”

You smiled, a soft, genuine thing, and his gaze softened in return. Neither of you needed to say more. You were here now, standing close, hearts open in a way they hadn’t been before. And maybe that was enough.

As the noise from the crowd picked up again, people shouting and celebrating the turn of the new year, Logan leaned in a little closer, his voice just for you.

 “Happy New Year,” he murmured.

"Happy New Year," you replied softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. The rest of the world seemed to fade away again, the cheers and music just background noise.

 And you were right where you needed to be.