#it's about!!!!! how the thunder CANNOT exist without the lightning and how ei is actively trying to reach out to people more

[alchemania]

I'm feeling absolutely bonkers rn so I wanna talk about music again because I'm crazy about the OST of this game so!!!! Here I go!

I've been thinking about Raiden and Wanderer's themes a lot and I love how they contrast - so, you have Raiden, who like. Her theme starts OFF strong and triumphant you have the horns you got the drums and everything is crescendoing and you feel it in your soul and your bones and then it drops and it's more muted but then by the middle of the song it crescendos again like thunder do you feel me it's about insane power all at once and then it's gone and it builds and builds and builds again and that's the cycle!!!

Whereas with Wanderer it starts off gentle and slow but there's a steady beat that only gets stronger as the song progresses and unlike Raiden who starts off virtually capturing your soul with the baseline this song steadily keeps on moving and building and building it's like a gentle hand that gently takes yours and begins to walk with you and gradually gets faster and faster until you both are virtually on the wings of the angels, running as fast as you can possibly go!!! Power showcased in completely different ways and I love love love them both Raiden is like power just. In who she is you LOOK at her and you know she'll mess you UP but in Wanderer's case he's like. A wild card who seems unassuming but is extremely dangerous if not taken seriously it's like dormant. Dormant power. Do you feel me.

AUGHHH I LOVE THIS GAME'S SOUNDTRACK IT'S SO GOOD IT MAKES ME WANNA CRY PLEASE TALK. TALK TO ME ABOUT IT .

[sourbat]

Nategaar R or U (Sorry (I'm not sorry) I keep sending you Nategaar I really love how you write it)

R: Romance Under the Stars

Wow. I actually have something to say about this. 

Warning: Set during Galaktikon

The Falcon could not withstand the heat that ripped through earth’s atmosphere, and the sound of metal turning, massive plates groaning and giving under the increasing pressure, could be heard all throughout the ship. And yet it persisted, chasing after the increasing heatwave that only grew more tumultuous and unbearable, turning the band’s one way ride into a giant, flying oven; a coffin that would no doubt cook them alive if there weren’t other, greater issues at hand. A wave of demonic evil swept across the darkening skies, igniting the dwindling oxygen in an immense flurry of wild fire that struck the Falcon’s side. Emergency lights flashed, and amidst the chaos, the cracking glass panels and increasing light as the Falcon drew nearer its goal, all Nathan could think about was how nice the stars looked tonight.

Stars of prophecies aside, just about everything else in the sky appeared the same. Each bright dot flickered, shining a once insignificant beacon of hope, now so impactful as time began to drag. Nathan could feel it slipping before him, coming to a still as his eyes locked with what he hoped was part of the dipper. He didn’t care which one it was, so long as there was something recognizable within the black, empty sea of space.

Skwisgaar’s hand squeezed his. “What ams you lookinks at?”

“The stars,” Nathan answered without breaking contact.

A final decision had been made, though it’s unclear when each member gained their resolve. Nathan’s confident Toki and Pickles’ made theirs before setting foot on the Falcon, and Murderface, despite his lamenting, had become increasingly determined on the ride up. Nathan knew this was it, accepted it as such, but Skwisgaar by his side, wavered.

“Remember when we passed out drunk looking at stars?” He mentioned it absentmindedly, as a filler to help cover the dread he was sure Skwisgaar was feeling. Skwisgaar squeezing his hand? No, should be the other way around. Or maybe Skwisgaar was trying to reassure him… did any of it matter now? 

Skwisgaar uttered an airy chuckle. “We does that all the times, Nathans.”

True. Nathan cannot count the times he and Skwisgaar passed out drunk during “x” activity, and when Skwisgaar brought it up, was almost taken aback by the remark. Then Skwisgaar laughed–actually laughed–at Nathan, and also at his own comment. It was a hearty, boisterous laugh, one so powerful it clogged Nathan’s overwhelmed senses. A laugh that deafened the flaring alarm. A row of shiny, white teeth that blinded the red flashing lights.  

“Sorry,” Skwisgaar said, shaking his laughter away with a few sharp flicks of his head. Each one produces a serene, blond flash that Nathan greatly preferred over the impending lightning storm. “I was just thinkinks. All of them silly memories…” Skwisgaar’s eyed began to strain, and his bottom lip sank. Nathan gripped Skwisgaar’s hand, sending a silent, but firm order to finish the comment, no matter how painful. Skwisgaar’s head shakes a nod. “I thinks I will miss thems very much.”

“Yeah, well.” Nathan stopped. He stared at the vast, darkening sky, watching the blue begin to sink beneath them, replaced with the black void of space. A sharp pain shot through his heart at the sight of the millions of stars across the universe. Stars that he wished on, counted, and stars that lighted him the way home. Stars that shined when he and Skwisgaar kissed, glimmered when they fell in love, and stars that ignited in fury whenever they performed. The agony persisted, and Nathan relinquished his hand from Skwisgaar to pull him close. Their hips bumped, and Skwisgaar wrapped his arm round Nathan’s waist, and although the screen was almost completely warped from the mounting pressure and heat, the two remained together and stared at their battered version of the night sky. “They were all good,” Nathan stated, feeling Skwisgaar’s cheek brush against his. “Each one of them.”

 Skwisgaar rested his head on Nathan’s shoulder. “Mhmm.”

Time continues to slow, coming to a near standstill. Nathan’s sure he’ll need to call the band to order soon, though when is still up in the air. Air? Sky? They were in space now. They were all amongst the stars. He and Skwisgaar were surrounded by the stars. Nothing mattered now. Not even time.

Time… 

“Skwisgaar?” 

“Yeah, Nathans?”

“I…think.” Nathan’s throat tightened. Skwisgaar shifted, pressing his weight into Nathan. “I think I’m really going to miss that,” he confessed, and felt Skwisgaar’s hair drape and spill over his shoulder as he turned to stare up at him. “Us. Together. Doing shit like that.”

The moment’s ruined, Nathan thought. Soiled with too much emotion. Stupid feelings that raised up fear and doubt, longing and so many unspoken words Nathan failed to get across with his lyrics, messages that could only be relayed through private stares or hands reaching and sending notes of desire. Now as not the time for doubt, for second-guessing and silently pleading for time to just freeze so that he could properly formulate the words he needed to say.

But Nathan knew he could have a million years, and it would never be enough to fix the pain in his chest, and in a few seconds, he would have no choice but to let Skwisgaar go.

Skwisgaar pressed his chin into Nathan’s shoulder. “Nathans?”

“Yeah?”

His lips pursed into a thinning, pale crescent. “Them stars looks very beau-tificals.”

Nathan hissed, stopping an exhale from turning into a groan, then gave Skwisgaar a sharp nod. “Yeah,” he said, then turned, brushing his nose across Skwisgaar’s silken crown. Nathan pushed his lips into the center, producing an audible kiss that could be heard through the vibrating metal. “You’re not half-bad looking yourself.” 

Skwisgaar’s arms squeezed his waist. “I could say them same things abouts you.”

Time. Nathan remembered a time where a lightyear was unfathomable, when such distances could only be “explained” with fancy programs and numbers. Formulas had always been meaningless to him; it was only through experience that Nathan could truly understand the meaning behind such terms. As the Falcon continued forward, disregarding pieces of its tearing wing, or outer layer chipping away, Nathan finally got what it meant for something to stretch on and on, maybe even forever.   

Perhaps this will last forever, Nathan pondered as the weight of his body began to lift. How perfect would it be if he and Skwisgaar’s final seconds together could last a million lightyears, could spread across the cosmos and be seen and wished upon forever? Was that too gay, or just too much for ask for? 

The Falcon’s front peeled under the heat, and finally gave way, and the massive beast ahead unleashed a final blast of lightning towards them.

And then they ascended.

Just as planned, they united against the demon, and with their combined powers, pushed back the evil storm with one of their own. Dethlights flashed across space, swallowing up the lightning, thunder and flames. Their powers fighting, consuming and mixing with Salacia’s resulted in a massive reaction. Metal melted, evaporated under the unfathomable heat that coursed through Nathan’s entire being, that sweltered and scorched each band member. Just like the Falcon before them, they persisted, consuming all the evil in their path.

Such combined power proved to be too much, and as Nathan began to feel his every atom give under the intense, magical force, somehow found and pulled Skwisgaar into his chest, embracing him one final time before their physical forms ceased to exist. A massive pentagram filled the sky, burning through the booming thunderclouds. The pentagram remained for some time, fending off the residual magic that once threatened the planet, spreading across the damaged atmosphere and blanketing it with its force. It soon vanished, replaced with the promising formation of rain clouds that healed the planet with its soothing rain.

That, too, ended.

The clouds shifted, shrank and returned to the sea from which they came, unveiling the magnificent array of purple and white. Stars glowed, radiated across the clear night sky, shining their brilliant light over earth, and other, greater pieces shot across the cosmos, stretching long tails of burning light and vanishing once they breached the atmosphere.

Underneath an old, abandoned wooden set of high school bleachers, Nathan drunkenly peered outward, head lifted to the sky. His heavy jaw sank, and a harsh stare turned agape at the many shooting stars that birthed and died before him. He rested a hand against the ancient, rusted support beams. A single, massive light burst through the sky, soaring across Nathan’s line of view before disappearing into the darkness. Its sudden death sent a peculiar, if not melancholic, sensation up Nathan’s spine. 

“What ams you lookinks at?”

Somewhat startled, Nathan turned around, facing Skwisgaar. The man sat under one of the better covered portions, and was nursing the last of the cold cans they had taken with them on their objectiveless adventure. Despite sequestering under the more covered portion of the bleachers, the man’s long hair was drenched, sticking to parts of his face. Under the shadowed frame, Nathan likened Skwisgaar to a handsome phantom, an angelic, but haunting figure that could lure him into the dark recess of the bleacher if he so commanded.

“A star,” he answered without breaking contact.

Skwisgaar’ eyes reflected, glowed menacingly like a tomcats under the shadows. “Instead of lookinks at silly stars, we coulds be... admiring each others more, ja?” He slipped his arms over a leg, then rested his chin on top of his knee as Nathan drew closer. “After alls,” Skwisgaar continued, voice dropping into a sultry whisper as Nathan’s eyes set upon his glowing form, “one day we wills be real stars…” 

[confinesofpersonalknowledge]

the m diaries

a series of short fics i wrote for my friend, who I am lucky enough to share a birthday with! this is for you, m, even if it’s late <3

pairings: logicality, background prinxiety

word count: 3667

warnings: i don’t think there are any for this? its the most fluff i’ve ever written. please tell me if i need to tag something!

taglist (general): @romanamongthestars @heir-of-the-founders @anthoscopus @ocotopushugs

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part one - a worthwhile ‘whisk’

It’s not a secret that Patton likes to bake - he does it often, and he does it well, and the others are not hesitant to show their appreciation of Patton’s baked goods. To say that Patton is a lover of food is to underestimate greatly, in Logan’s observations of the other Side.

It’s commonplace to find the other Side in the kitchen, a delicious smell wafting from the room alongside the hum of whatever song Patton was deciding to obsess over that day. Many days, it was a tune from Disney. Roman was quick to join in, happily singing along to whichever song Patton chose, dancing majestically in the dining area - alone, or with a partner. These days, he seemed to enjoy tugging Virgil into his dances, much to the blushing chagrin of the anxious Side.

Sometimes Roman or Virgil are recruited by Patton to help bake. Usually, this is a subtle maneuver from Patton whenever he notices that either is feeling particularly high-strung that day, lashing out more, or simply a bit quicker to give a reaction. And usually, he’s successful in cheering the others up, two flour-covered cheeks stretched in a dimpled simple difficult to ignore even by someone having the worst of days.

He’s yet to invite Logan into such an activity, though Logan supposes that, too, makes sense. Logan is rarely prone to the overly-emotional outbursts of the other three - he finds them frivolous and oftentimes unnecessary to achieving the best possible task. As such, Patton is less likely to notice when Logan is feeling particularly uncharitable, or, as he likes to put it, down in the dumps.

Usually, though, when Logan is feeling in such a way, he finds himself in the Commons, curled with a book he pretends to read as he listens to the consistent, calming noises of Patton rustling about in the kitchen, with his consistent humming. Logan finds comfort in the softness of their home in such moments, the simpleness of simply existing alongside Patton without need of their interaction, and getting along without saying a word. It’s… nice.

So finding Patton curled on one end of the couch, the cardigan Logan gave him fully on, no music or light streaming from the kitchen as the Commons are unusually enveloped in darkness is… surprising to say the least. Patton doesn’t say a word when Logan settles down next to him, barely glancing up at him. Though, in the brief moment where their eyes met, Logan suspects that he spotted a glimpse of bright tears swimming in Patton’s eyes.

Frowning to himself as he stood, Logan quietly made his way to the kitchen, flicking on the lights and ignoring the twing of something deep in his chest at the way Patton sniffled quietly in the Commons. Gathering the ingredients, vessels, and utensils necessary for Patton’s favourite dessert - triple fudge brownies - he began to quietly and gently place them on the counter, hoping they would catch the other Side’s interest.

When it’s been a few minutes and Logan has found himself halfway through the recipe with no sign of gaining Patton’s attention, he decides a more nuanced approach may be appropriate. Wiping his face on his shoulder, unknowingly smearing flour on his face, Logan washes his hands and quickly exits the kitchen, making the short way over to where the huddled form of Patton Sanders continues to sit.

Sitting down gently next to him, Logan waits until Patton spares him a glance to offer him an uncertain smile. When Patton does a double-take, that smile becomes a little more genuine, and surprisingly, a laugh bubbles in Logan’s throat when Patton pulls out of the curled position he had previously assumed - which must have been terrible on the Side’s back - to stare at him in shock. Standing up, offering a hand to help Patton do the same, Logan gently asks, “Would you like to bake with me?”

The beaming, though slightly wet, smile that Patton gives him is answer enough. Hours later, when Roman and Virgil descend the stairs into the Commons, drawn by the housewarming, drool-inducing smell of the triple fudge brownies set to bake in the oven, they find the forms of Patton and Logan in the kitchen, covered in flour and other various ingredients. Both are laughing, faces aglow under the crappy kitchen lights as they steal unknowing glances each other, admiration clear in their gazes. Both are oblivious to the outside world, and the knowing glances that Roman and Virgil slant at them, lost in each other’s eyes and the happiness they find hidden deep inside.

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part two - a four-am snack

See, the problem isn’t really the time; four-am is no stranger to Logan, not with his tendency to go off on late-night binges on Wikipedia, always constantly searching for new information, new things that he hadn’t known before, something to settle the restless itch in his mind that always pushes him to learn more, know more, find out more. It usually ends in badly-hidden dark circles under his eyes, and the slightly disapproving frown Patton slants at him in the mornings, forcing Logan to hide the slight hurt he feels at the look.

That is - being awake at four-am is not something new for Logan. For Patton, however, is another story altogether. The man is the very definition of early mornings and early nights - Logan doesn’t think he’s ever seen the pure embodiment of sunshine stay awake beyond 11pm on any night. And he’s always awake, no matter what, at 6am, in the kitchen happily humming as the delicious smells of breakfast waft through the house.

So, on the rare night in which Logan is actually asleep at four-am, he’s rather surprised to find Patton gently shaking him awake, grin bright and happy under his glasses. It’s far too bright for four in the morning, but Logan finds that he cannot bring himself to truly complain. Not when the full force of the same smile is directed straight at him, even if it is at four in the morning.

Speaking of which.

“Patton… why, exactly, are the two of us awake at four in the morning?” Logan asks, voice heavy with sleep as he pushes himself onto his elbows. Patton doesn’t reply, simply raising an excited finger to his lip in a shushing motion and grabbing Logan’s wrist, warm fingers curling snuggly around it.

Logan is suddenly glad it is too dark for Patton to see the red that crawls up his neck. He lets the shorter Side bounce ahead of him, eyes watching the bounce of soft curls as they head down the stairs.

The Commons are silent, save for the quiet fall of rain in the backyard outside. For once, the TV and the radio are off, silence settling into the Commons in a way that it rarely does when all four of them are awake. Darkness has quietly befallen the Commons, shadows gently reaching sleepy fingers towards the center of the room, where Patton happens to be dragging Logan anyway.

Logan follows the Side, mostly in a sleepy haze of confusion, until Patton is dragging him to sit down on the couch, the blinds having been opened to the outside world. Rain falls heavily and steadily, the world occasionally illuminated by flashing glimpses of lighting far in the distance, thunder rumbling quietly and comfortingly. Patton doesn’t say a word, but aims another one of his blindingly beautiful smiles at Logan, and Logan… understands, suddenly, what Patton wants from him without a single word.

Gently, he relaxes into the couch, feet drawing up underneath him in a comfortable fold as Patton settles in comfortably next to him. Silence curls around them, blanketing the moment in a kind of peace difficult to find in their rushing, energy-filled home during the day. And Logan could understand why Patton awoke him - for this, for a moment such as this, Logan wouldn’t mind waking up a million times.

The peace is a fragile thing, really - easily broken by the slightest of movement or the softest of noise. The background of the falling rain is soothing, a quiet reassurance to busy minds that moments of solitude and recuperation are available. Moments like these are difficult to find and even harder to catch. Some distant part of Logan is unimaginably grateful that Patton invited him to one - and chose to share it with Logan.

Eventually, Logan’s eyes slip close, his head tilting dangerously until he finds himself leaning on Patton. It draws a wide-eyed gaze from Patton, one that is quick to soften into something highly akin to fondness and love. Shifting them slightly into a much more comfortable position, Patton places a gentle kiss at Logan’s dark brow before slipping off both their glasses. Closing his own eyes, Patton allows himself to drift off.

In front of them, rain continues to gently fall. Lightning flashes illuminate both their faces as they sleep, a soft, different kind of peace settling quietly over the sleeping pair.

All is well.

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part three - a field day of flowers

It starts with Roman and Patton, and their overly-enthusiastic love of flowers, gardens, and flower gardens. And Virgil, who apparently spent one Wikipedia-fueled night with Logan on a binge of flower meanings and is unable to say no to Patton’s puppy dog eyes. Not that he has to, with Roman aiming a hopeful smirk at him. Virgil is especially weak to those, as Logan has come to note over the last few weeks.

It ends with Logan’s hair full of flowers, and Patton bounding up to him, grin firmly in place as he shoves bouquets of multi-coloured roses into Logan’s arm. How they end up there is the true story.

Logan finds that Roman has a very unsubtle way of trying to subtly pushing him into asking Patton out. That is - the field they are currently in is absolutely chock full of flowers that symbolize romance, and different forms of love that Logan does not necessarily want to admit that he feels.

They are bright and beautiful, much like Patton, who very much has a fondness of bright and beautiful things. Which means that when Patton goes running off to the fields, hands curling around wild red carnations, Logan cannot help the red flush that travel up his neck. And at the question Patton poses him, curls bouncing as he tilts his head, Logan has to take a moment for himself before he can bring himself to answer. After all, red carnations represent deep romantic love, as well as passion, and Roman is really bad at being subtle.

Logan spots Virgil’s influences when he sees jasmines in the distance, the long-stemmed white flower catching Patton’s eye at the same time it does Logan’s. And Logan remembers a distant conversation, months prior under a starry sky and a nervous Virgil far too anxious about approaching a certain prince in regards to his feelings. Logan had remembered jasmines, then, sitting under the stars with his best friend - remembered that they had a symbol for unconditional and eternal love. Patton comes dashing up with a gentle handful of them, quietly threading them into Logan’s hair as he stands stock-still, a blush alighting both their faces even as they avoid each others’ gazes.

Purple bellflowers are next to join the wild array of flowers in Roman’s field and Logan’s hair. Patton finds them, quietly cooing over how they remind him of Virgil even as he picks them, holding them out gently to Logan. By now, the blush is something far more permanent, stuck on his face as Patton gently tucks two bellflowers behind each of Logan’s ears. He’s not entirely sure that Patton is truly understand the meaning of the flowers he is presenting to Logan like a gift - bellflowers are said to symbolize unwavering love, after all.

It is the similar story with the asters, though Logan is the one to point out the small area where the white-and-yellow flowers grow. He isn’t really sure why he did it, though some instinct drove him to do it, some art of him wondering if Patton would appreciate the flower as he quietly explained the meaning of asters. (They were symbols of love, of trust.)

And that is the story of how they end up here - with Logan and an arrangement of flowers in his hair, each one more romantic in meaning, and Patton running up with more in his hand.

Except these are roses - red and white, together, coming together to represent a union, and red alone to mean true love - and Logan is not sure Patton is fully aware of the meaning his actions hold, of the things he has communicated silently to Logan. And Logan - he cannot bear it, cannot have false hope in the light of things unsaid, not when a large part of his world teeters hopefully on the axis of the brightness in Patton’s eyes, and the pangs of sadness that overcome him when that brightness dulls, even for a moment. Of this, Logan must be sure.

And so he asks, voice quiet and gentle and hopeful despite his every attempt to keep it impassive. To be sure that he is not selling his heart away to someone who does not want, has never wanted it.

Patton only smiles and boops Logan’s nose, smiling as he calls Logan silly, saying that he’s been trying to send a message the entire time.

Logan smiles.

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part four - a midnight wait

It is 5 minutes away from midnight on the night of April 30th, and Logan is suddenly nervous. It’s like every minute has slowed down to a crawl as he awaits the inevitable striking of midnight, and the shift into May - May 1st being, of course, Patton’s day of birth.

He’s likely being irrational about this event in its entirety. It is not, in any shape or form whatsoever, unusual or irrational to stay awake until the moment when a new day is born simply to extend birthday wishes to a friend - Logan has experienced the same from his friends often. But Patton - Patton is not just any other friend. No, he cannot be, not with the giant crush Logan has on him.

4 minutes now, and all Logan can think about is Patton’s bright blue eyes and the way they light up behind his glasses whenever he sees Logan. The rush of happiness Logan gets at seeing the happiness in Patton’s eyes, the way the blue eyes see more, understand more than anyone else Logan has known. Here is the truth, raw and honest, if Logan was to ever give it: Patton is much smarter than others make him out to be, much smarter than he himself makes him out to be. After all, intelligence is not simply a measure of knowledge useful in schools - there are countless kinds of intelligence, and Patton is the most emotionally-intelligent person Logan has ever had the pleasure to know, the pleasure to be friends with. It is all written in his eyes.

3 minutes, and Logan’s thoughts shift to Patton’s smile. It has never failed to draw the attention of people - it’s the biggest compliment Patton gets, that his smile is wide and beautiful. And, seeing it from an absolutely objective viewpoint, it is a beautiful smile - the most beautiful Logan has seen adorning the frankly perfect beautiful face of the most wonderful human Logan has had the privilege of knowing. Patton’s smile is enough to light up a room, enough to bring cheer even to the most of upset of people when all else has failed. It’s one of the most wonderful things about him.

2 minutes, and Logan is suddenly struck with the image of Patton’s freckles. They’re everywhere, adorning most of Patton’s face with their grace and their beauty, and Logan wants to spend every day of his life counting them over and over again, tracing the constellations in them and finding new ones. They’re mini-stars on Patton’s cheek, an universe spreading itself across the bridge of Patton’s nose for Logan to appreciate in the moments when there is quiet and peace across the room - and sometimes in the ones where there is not. He’s often been caught staring at the freckles, mentally counting them, tallying up the counts in his mind and committing them to his memory.

1 minute - Logan is truly nervous now, a strange kind of energy humming in him as his grip tightens around his phone. This birthday feels different somehow, as if it means more than a simple wish on a simple minute. He and Patton have been dancing around each other for awhile now, neither acknowledging their emotions or doing something that would bring their awkward dance to a stop, neither willing to take the initiative if the other isn’t. But of course, each moment is important, and as Logan sits in bed, phone in hand, he knows that this birthday will bring something new into his life, and into Patton’s.

0 minutes.

Me to Patton <3: Happy Birthday, Patton. May all the wishes you may want come true.

Patton <3 to you: Aww, thank you Logan! See you later today! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

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part five - dental shenanigans

Logan has a tendency to wear a straight face like a mask - neutrality is his natural state, and oftentimes it is mistakenly misread for displeasure. It’s highly ever the case - Logan is a serious man, and he does not like to display his emotions for everyone to see. He takes them for a sign of weakness - he should be strong enough that he is the only one he needs to deal with, and understand his emotions, in his mind. It’s a mentality Patton works hard to get rid of.

Of course, that is a Logan who is not high on anesthesia following a dental procedure. A Logan who is high on anesthesia is a completely different story, as Patton is about to learn.

It’s like this - a high Logan is one that lowers the boundaries he has, the walls he has built to exclude almost every and isolate himself into a fortress of solitude, as illogical as it may be. Which means he’s no longer suppressing the emotions that rise and fall in his chest like waves.

Patton sees this when he first enters the room, Logan’s eyes immediately jump to Patton, forgetting everything and everyone else in the room as a wide grin splits his lips, Patton’s name tumbling out his mouth in a happy cry. The nurse shook her head fondly in the corner, knowing she’d lost the war for the man’s attention from the moment a nervous-looking Patton had stepped into the room.

Patton, for his part, was no less dramatic. He was quick to run over to Logan’s side, grabbing his hand as he stared in worry at the usually stoic man, not registering that Virgil had ducked into the room behind him, phone ready in his hand as he snickered quietly to himself, video already rolling. He had eyes only for Logan, and it seemed that Logan only had eyes for Patton.

This would be fun to show to Logan when he wasn’t quite as loopy in the morning, but for now, Virgil was going to take as much advantage of this as he could. Nothing like a little bit of blackmail for the man who had piles of blackmail on the others, stored safely away.

Virgil has to bite his lips to stop his laughter when Logan suddenly throws his arms around Patton’s shoulders, loudly declaring him the most perfect of angels, giggling as Patton automatically hugged him back before quietly whispering that Patton gave the best hugs, ever.

Roman was really going to hate that he’d missed this, especially because Virgil was too busy shaking with laughter to really hold the camera steady. It was an experience in-and-of itself to see Logan so… open with his emotions, especially in front of people he wasn’t familiar with in the first place. And for the man to do it so flamboyantly, as well, in a manner that didn’t fail to remind Virgil of Roman’s overly-extravagant way of speaking and acting altogether. It was as if Logan was a whole new man in such a loopy state.

Though it was becoming clearer that Patton didn’t quite know how to handle Logan in such a state, judging by the way that Patton clung to Logan, not allowing him to fall but not really holding him as if he was hugging him. Virgil supposed it was fair enough - none of them had really ever seen Logan so… extra, before.

Before Virgil can do anything, however, Logan pulls away, hands coming up to grab Patton’s face as he gasps, before loudly and suddenly asking, “Oh my god, are you an angel?”

Patton giggles lightly, reaching up and fixing the crooked glasses on Logan’s face before responding, “No, I’m Patton, silly.”

Logan gasps again, hands covering Patton’s own on his face, “But that’s the best thing to be! Patton’s are so cool, and fun, and nice, and sweet, and smart, and funny, and they make the best puns! My Patton is really, really cool! Have you met him?”

Virgil laughs at the blush covering Patton’s entire face, though Patton’s voice is steady as he responds, “Really? You should really tell your Patton you feel this way. I bet he would be really happy if you did.”

Logan smiles sleepily at Patton, eyes blinking slowly as he whispers, “Okay, Patton! If you say so, though no telling him! I want to tell him when I wake up, okay? No telling Patton, you have to pinky promise me.”

Patton pinky-promises Logan, and Logan only smiles again, before succumbing to his own exhaustion and slipping into sleep, hand still holding Patton’s lightly, their pinkies linked. Patton makes no move to unlink them, even as Virgil approaches quietly, ready to tease the hell out of his friend.

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Comments and reblogs are highly, highly appreciated and also lifeblood. Ofc, no forcing. <3 have a good night