#mind logic heart

[wardinespurrit]

redid my hms designs. i go on a ramble in the tags beware

[allgremlinart]

streets are saying the next Avatar is a girl

[rectanglebrain]

If Mind cried what do you think caused it

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

hal should become a real boy and also a rabbit (prototyped with the piece of the bunny in lil seb) and also a sylph of mind send tweet

[hmsdoodlin]

I think we as a society need more Heart and Soul interactions. They have a lot of potential to be really interesting in BOTH fluff and angst.

Idk y’all but positive Heart and Soul dynamics are really nice. They deserve to be friends and love each other and bond.

They share the same night sky.

[dismas-n-dismay]

Having OSDD and playing STP and seeing how other people interpret the voices is crazy. Mostly because I attribute all the Voices as just being smaller parts of the Whole (You, the player) so it’s harder to take their flaws seriously when it’s like. Yeah but I’m not like that and I don’t wanna do that, ur just a thought bro.

Like L + Ratio imagine not being the guy in control of the body today, ANYWAYS-

(Mini ramble undercut!!)

It what makes certain routes like the Spectre so fun when she joins the mess and is like “??? Is it always this loud” because like yeah. Being apart of a system in real life is really just fine tuning the noise and making your own choices, especially since the voices are usually shown at face value and when you dig deeper they all usually want the same thing: To survive.

And when you realize that it’s easier to take agency of the control you Do have as the player and therefore the vessel. They each have their own different ways and thoughts of surviving but ultimately they either just want to survive or they want to survive and end the pain of the cycle they’re forced through.

They’re just thoughts, just voices, brought forth from trauma and trying to escape, give them grace.

All this to say, being apart of a system and playing a game that involves multiple voices is really just like playing a real life simulator and is probably why I have such an easy time playing and understanding the characters in the game

[rusquared]

man. you ever think about how anna croft, anna "i will sacrifice as many people as necessary for the greater good" croft, who was willing to betray yjh and side with the constellations if it saved the most people, REPAIRED and KEPT the ark because she knew kimcom would eventually want to use it. earth's strongest incarnations were going to abandon the world to save just one, small, inconsequential life. and she agreed. she supported them. she asked him to be the only constellation in her world that was supposed to be without any stars. like.

kim dokja, an ordinary, average, wholly unremarkable human, still changed so many lives that even anna croft wanted to save him.

[feral-ass-raccoon]

hms is so fucking funny to me bc its the classic "head vs heart" shit except there is a Secret Third Option and the secret is that he is Unhinged

[44-moved-44]

I think the best interpretation of the lyric "(when you tell me one and one does not equal two, ooh)" is the idea that Heart is in math class and Soul is just gaslighting him on one and one equalling one and not two

[sainteclectic]

what about covered in discontent 🥺🥺🥺

discontent and before are two sides of the same coin. they're named castor (discontent) and pollux (before) after the twin gods, and because of their contrasting roles, they serve under the gods that contrast each other!

castor is under pathos. he's the god of entropy and injustice. despite this, he's not generally a misanthropic god. instead, he's the god you turn to when you need strength in the face of an uncaring universe. fighting an oppressive system, getting vengeance for your suffering, seeing the beauty in decay, that kind of thing. he's representative of pathos' domain in justice and the cruel world that requires it! still, the efforts are futile without the logical understanding of your situation, which is why pollux is equally important to truly make a change.

pollux is under logos. she's the misanthropic one, representing apathy and downward spirals. she's the embodiment of the kind of nothingness you feel while trapped in depression. despite this seeming like an emotional thing, it's instead symbolic for the pit you can fall into when you can't feel emotions healthily. so she serves under logos, because while logos represents progress, that doesn't mean anything without the emotional drive to move forward.

basically, they both represent different responses to the same circumstances - castor understands entropy on an emotional level so he can appreciate and live with it, while pollux understands it logically and so she lacks the somewhat illogical motivation to fight against the inevitable.

[cinnamonsly]

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

no but we need to talk more about how violent and physical heart can get. how emotions can get so intense and blinding that you see red and all you can do is lash out in a physical way. punching, hitting, biting, pulling hair; nothing mind (and soul on occasion) aren’t used to. it takes a lot to get heart worked up to the point of getting physical, but he definitely doesn’t shy away from the chance to beat the crap out of someone when he gets to that point

i mean. he literally attempted to kill mind at some point so i really don’t think any of this would be far from the truth

[throughpatchesofviolet]

One thing that I never mention is just how much influence Moriarty has over Sherry--I have imagined her encountering him throughout Limbus Company's story many times, and it's really hard to describe the way he makes her feel ...

She's of course angry at him and wants to take revenge for what he did to Watson, but she does also have this nagging fear of him, too. Yes, there's the fear of him hurting the Sinners, since they're her friends, but there's also this lingering fear of knowing she could be just like Moriarty--it's the classic ''you and I, we're the same'' trope for the hero and villain. The key difference between these two is that Sherry, despite her claims, does care about others, and has developed meaningful relationships built on trust, while Moriarty views his subordinates as pawns that he can command as he sees fit.

But, since I imagine Sherry heads out alone to face Moriarty in her Canto (at first, that is--I have plans /lh), it's very easy for him to get into her head by pouncing on her decision to come along and drilling in his belief that she doesn't trust the Sinners and Dante enough to help her defeat them. That Sherry can only truly depend on herself, and no one else. And, though this is untrue, his words would be enough to make her falter, because ... well, he's right, in a way. Sherry has a very hard time trusting people after the one person she loved most was killed because she trusted him.

So, sure, she can say she went off alone because she wanted to keep the Sinners safe from Moriarty, but is that really the truth? It may appear she's thinking of them, and putting their well-being first, but isn't she truly doing this so she doesn't get hurt again? Or is it because she wants the satisfaction of bringing Moriarty down herself, without the others trying to intervene and stop her? Does her vengeance--the justice she feels she deserves--matter more to her than her friends?

That, I feel, would be her lowest point. The moment that her deepest fear has been realized--that she and Moriarty are the same.

[andersdotters]

I think most people would agree that gift giving is Zhongli's highest love language (giving). After that, I think would be words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, then physical touch. As for his highest love language (receiving), it'd probably be quality time.

[edupunkn00b]

I Love You Heart and Mind, Ch. 7: We Did It!

Prev - We Did It - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

And so our story ends. But first, we see what happened in the middle of the night after Patton fell asleep in Logan's room.

Rated: G - WC: 4283 - CW: mentions of blood, peril. A twinge of Remus at the end. Written for the Sleepy Bean Café for @always-anais -

Patton dreamt of the sea. Just like from Treasure Island or maybe even Treasure Planet, too, he dreamt of salty air, of the gentle rocking of a ship. He imagined himself nestled in a warm, soft hammock, swaying side to side, carrying him across the stars as he slept.

He opened his eyes, the stars outside Logan's window bright and twinkling and close enough to touch. Well, the stars weren't that close, but the window was. Patton's fingers grazed cold, hard glass and he blinked, the rest of his senses slowly catching up.

It wasn't only in his dream that he floated, swaying gently. Logan's ceiling was inches from his head, the window not much further away. High above the floor, Patton was aloft, less than an arm's length from the ceiling and the wall. The bed beneath him had risen up and was tucked into the corner of the room furthest from the door.

No, not the bed. Something kept him high in the air. Something warm and firm and—

It was only then he heard Logan's hitched breath.

"Logan?" he murmured, turning in the not-bed. Surrounded on two sides by the ceiling and the window, it was hard to move, hard to see. The not-bed beneath him almost looked like… "Logan?" he called, panic gripping his chest. "Logan, where are you?"

"I'm here." Though only a whisper, Logan's voice boomed, buzzing through the walls and the soft surface holding him up. "Try not to thrash. I—I promise you're safe," he added, voice cracking. "I won't hurt you—I won't—"

Suddenly the ceiling drew closer as he was lifted higher and Logan let out a shuddering sob, muffled like he hid behind his hands or…

Patton shifted with the movement, laying flat as he was squished into a tighter spot. He came face to face with the not-bed holding him up. Starlight streamed over his shoulder, shining over a wrinkle in the surface. A familiar wrinkle.

He reached out and stroked it. Warm and soft. Skin.

"Logan?" Patton whispered, already knowing the answer, no matter how impossible it was. Was it really so impossible? A year ago he'd been a frog. "Logan, is this you?"

Another sob and the surface, the hand, Logan's hand beneath him shuddered. "I'm sorry," Logan choked. "I—I—I can't control it, I—" The ceiling rushed up to meet him and Logan's fingers formed a cage around him, nails digging into the paint and plaster. "I won't let you get hurt, Patton. I—" One of Logan's nails cracked, blood welling as he fought his own movement to keep Patton from being smashed against the ceiling. "I—I—I can't—"

"Hold on, Logie," Patton murmured, stroking Logan's hand even as his own voice shook. They had to get out of there. There had to be somewhere big enough, somewhere Logan would fit no matter how big he grew. "I have an idea!"

Eyes screwed shut, Patton found the memory of an old story Thomas' parents read to him as a child. "'Once up on a time there was a Giant.'" he started in a rush. Logan's hand trembled around him and plaster crumbled over his head. "'The Giant squeezed Jack and said, "Tell me a better story or I will grind your bones to make my bread."'"

Logan gasped and the ceiling disappeared. Patton opened his eyes. Crayola green and brown trees surrounded them. Stretched overhead were fluffy white clouds drawn over a light blue sky. The sun shone in the distant, a big yellow disk with squiggly long and short lines spiraling out of it like a flower.

"Where…" Logan's voice rolled over the swooping hills beyond the trees, also drawn with the same jagged green crayon. "Where are we?"

"The Imagination. Well, the memory of Thomas' imagination when he listened to a story about a giant. I thought…" He started to sit up then caught sight of just how high up he was and thought better of it, clinging to Logan's hand. "I thought it would be a place with room for you while you're…"

"A giant that will grind your bones to make my bread?" Logan finished, voice choked. In the bright light of a child's picture of a sun, Patton watched Logan's hand grow even larger.

"No!" Patton insisted. Shaking, he pushed up to his feet and wrapped both arms around Logan's thumb, hugging what part of him he could. "No, you promised you wouldn't hurt me and I know you won't. Logie, you were getting hurt!" he said, touching just below the sticky blood dripping down from his wounds.

"It's… it's nothing important," Logan finally said. "I… I should put you down. Just… Please… I… I'm sorry."

The crooked green line of the ground grew closer and Logan set him down before turning, bare back curled as he hugged impossibly long legs to his chest. He hid his face between his knees, but he couldn't hide the stuttered sobs that seeped out or the puddles of tears collecting in the dips of the ground around them.

"Logie?" Patton began, stepping closer. Giant goosebumps dotted Logan's flesh and he shivered when Patton touched his back. "Are you cold?"

"It's not important. I… If you can tell me how to return after I change back, you can go now," he said, breath stuttering with a stifled sob. "I—I just need—"

Patton closed his eyes again, this time recalling a far more recent memory, but hopefully one that might do something to help. After a few moments, something soft thudded onto the ground next to them and he peeked.

"Here," he said, lifting up one end of the massive striped scarf coiled on the ground.

Far, far larger than the prop was in real life, the giant-sized version of the Fourth Doctor's scarf was also softer than it was in real life, as soft as Thomas had imagined it might be the first time he'd seen it. Far warmer, too, than the acrylic blend the real prop likely was. "This might help," he said, grinning when Logan took the scarf and stretched it over his shoulders.

Grabbing the thick knit with both hands, Patton picked up one end and walked around Logan's form, winding it around him. After he finished with one end, he took the other, giving Logan what protection he could.

When he was done, he craned his neck to look up at Logan. He peeked from over the tops of his knees, eyes wet but no longer actively crying. "You… That was not necessary," he said, a bit of his old voice coming through. "But thank you."

Patton sat on the ground next to his foot and leaned against his ankle. "Of course it was necessary, Logan. You were cold."

The ground shook beneath them and Logan grew just a bit larger. Burying his face between his knees again, Logan mumbled. "I… I won't be able to get back to normal if you say things like that. I'll—" He shuddered and grew again, the scarf stretching around him.

"Logan? I'm really sorry." Patton stood and rubbed a bared spot of skin just above his ankle bone. "What did I say wrong? How… Do you know what causes this?"

"It's not—" Logan shuddered and held his breath, tapping one giant finger the way Virgil did during a panic attack. He slowly exhaled and repeated the process. The next he spoke, his voice was calmer. Flat. “It is not your fault or concern, Patton. I simply need to better manage my… myself when—” His voice caught, and he trembled again, fighting something Patton couldn’t see.

Patton couldn’t see it. But here, outside of Logan’s room, he could feel it. Feel them.

“Do you mean when you feel things?”

Hands clawed into the scarf and his skin beneath, Logan froze. He wasn’t even breathing.

“That’s what’s causing this, isn’t it?” Patton asked carefully. “I can feel how scared you are. When you feel scared, you grow?”

“When I feel anything I grow!” Logan shouted, voice thundering across the sky. “Don’t you see? I can’t feel anything!” The trees and the ground shook, the stitches in the scarf pulling and snapping as he stretched up in to the sky. The scarf fell in tatters at his feet so Patton let go of the memory, letting them disappear. Logan’s tears pounded the ground, and Patton dodged the splashes.

With nothing for the tears to soak into—four year olds don’t understand ground water—Logan’s tears pooled, rising quickly to Patton’s shins. He jumped onto Logan’s foot to stay out of the deluge. He cupped both hands around his mouth and shouted up at him. “Logan, of course you can feel things. You do feel things! All the time! It’s totally normal! There’s nothing wro—” He squeaked when Logan stepped and he lost his footing.

Luckily, Logan felt him fall and bent to scoop him up. Cradling him in enormous hands, he brought him up to eye level. “This? You call this normal?” he cried, looking down at Patton through huge bloodshot eyes.

Kneeling on his palm, Patton stroked his skin, massaging the shaking muscles beneath him. Just like Logan had done for him. “I call you normal,” he said.

A valley deeper than Patton was tall grew between Logan’s eyebrows as he frowned back. But he listened.

“I went all frog-hulk because I wouldn’t let my real feelings out so we could talk about what I really meant,” he said. “And what I’d done,” he added, meeting Logan’s eyes. “Maybe…” Patton swallowed hard. If he said the wrong thing, if he was wrong about what was causing this and he made Logan grow any larger, he would slip right between his fingers. If he was wrong, he might break this fragile thing between them, like the yarn in the scarf.

~

Unclothed, stranded in some strange corner of the Imagination, standing in pools of his own disgusting tears, Logan could not imagine being more bared, more, well, naked.

Until Patton looked right at him and spoke his secret.

“D’you mean when you feel things?”

I don’t feel anything.

Already lost to the sea of emotion churning in his chest, Logan exploded, rising up larger than he’d ever experienced. The giant trees that had once loomed over them shrank down to green pinpricks, the crudely drawn sun far below. His tears rained downs, each drop enormous as his lacrimal glands grew with him.

"… It's totally normal! There's nothing wron—" Poor Patton, out of guilt or optimism, stubbornly clung to him in thought and body, to this monster he'd become, this mass of uncontrolled feeling. Animated, and probably afraid, he slipped and plunged into the flood below. Gathering just enough of his faculties to protect him, Logan retrieved him from the salty waters at his feet.

"Normal?" he asked, holding him aloft. Without his glasses, Logan could barely make out Patton's bright shining eyes, filled with hope and something soft and warm that…

Logan shook his head. "You call this normal?"

Steady and sure and far more confident than he should be a hundred feet in the air, Patton stroked his palm. "I call you normal."

He let Patton's words wash over him, his reminder that it wasn't so long ago when, in a moment of emotional overwhelm, it had been Patton who'd burst out of his clothes and attacked Thomas and Janus.

"Maybe…" Patton began, a fearful quaver in his voice. Had he looked down? Did he see how far up he was?

Logan fought to steady his trembling hands, a wordless promise to never let him fall.

Patton rose to his feet and stumbled forward, catching himself with both arms wrapped around Logan's thumb. His hands couldn't meet around its circumference. “Maybe you’re growing so big because your feelings don’t have anywhere else to go.”

I don't feel anything.

The lie soured in his own mind, the watery evidence of his emotion gathered at his feet, eyes burning as he choked on everything he couldn't say.

"You should go," he said instead. "I'll find my way back."

"I'm not leaving you like this." Patton shook his head and tightened his grip. "Talk to me, Logan. Tell me… what are you feeling?"

I don't feel anything. I don't feel anything. I don't feel—

He felt everything.

He felt Patton's warmth in his hand, the tickle of soft hair against his skin. The wetness of Patton's tears joining his own. He felt a tremor as his own twitching muscles threatened to knock Patton off his feet.

Logan had never before grown so large and he didn't actually know how he would get back to his normal size. But even as he feared his ludicrous size might harm Patton, that he might grow so gigantic he would lose him, he felt safer with him there.

"I'm scared," Logan finally said.

Warm, wet cheek pressed to his skin, he felt Patton nod. "It's okay to feel scared. I feel scared, too."

"What I feel is illogical." The words spilled out in a whisper. "I'm afraid you'll leave but I'm afraid I will hurt you if you stay."

Patton stared back at him. Was he smiling? "You won't hurt me."

Tears shone in Patton's eyes as he begged him to stop complaining about his nostalgia.

"But I have." Logan found clarity in the contradiction. The very clear memories of each failure to say the right thing. Each instance of saying precisely the worst possible thing and watching Patton's expression shatter. "Many, many times."

Stretching one hand high above his head, Patton touched just below a bit of dried blood on Logan's hand. "You hurt yourself trying to protect me tonight," he said simply. He hung his head then but clung tighter to Logan's thumb. "And I've hurt you. I care for you so much but still I hurt you, too."

'I care for you…'

Logan held his breath, parsing Patton's words. No. No, as much as Patton was their Heart, as much as he held the lion's share of their emotional intelligence, he was imprecise with his language. Patton did not truly mean what that sounded like.

"Yes, you do care about all of us and you—"

"No, Logan," Patton interrupted, voice fierce. He trembled in Logan's hand but held tight. "I care for you. I… love love you."

The ground fell away as Logan shot up higher. The crayon sun but a speck far, far below, Logan teetered on the edge of green, just big enough for the balls of his feet. He cupped his hands, encasing the warm, feather-light weight of Patton's relatively shrinking form. If he fell… if he fell, Patton would still be safe.

"Logie, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay!" Patton was calling up to him, his muffled voice so small, he could barely hear him over his own ragged breathing. "You don't have to—"

"But I do, as well," he whispered. Patton grew in his hands and his feet steadied on the sopping green line beneath him. "I… I f—feel the same," he pushed the words from his lips.

As tall as Logan's fingers now, Patton poked through the gap between his thumb and index finger. "Say that again," he called up to him, almost giddy. "Say what you feel!"

"I—I'm afraid to," he stammered. The wet green stripe below them grew closer, once again recognizably the ground. "What if—what if it's wrong?"

Patton kissed him then. His knuckle, at least. Gentle and warm, Patton's breath tickled against his skin. "Feelings aren't wrong!" He kissed him again, and pressed his cheek against the pad of Logan's thumb. "Your feelings aren't wrong."

He was close to the same size he'd been when he'd first brought them to this odd corner of the Imagination. Patton looked around them, smiling. "Your feelings just want to come out. And I want to hear them. Please? Keep going!"

None of this made logical sense. If his feelings were what had transformed him, how could his feelings restore him? The only thing that had helped in the past was finding that silence, that calm, that—

"No, Logan! No!" Patton was shaking him, panic in his voice.

Eyes shut, he'd dropped to his knees, some fortunate instinct keeping Patton aloft and safe. The familiar, cold quiet had begun to wrap itself around his chest, letting him breath without pain, to move without the noise of his thoughts longing for…

"You're going numb!"

Logan opened his eyes. A smile cracked through the worry in Patton's face and he nodded. "Good, good! You're back!" He stopped shaking his hand and pulled Logan's fingers closer, hugging them to his body. "Keep talking!"

A sob fought its way past his seized throat. "I never—" Patton stroked his hand, full attention on him. "I never thought you'd say that to me. It…"

Nodding, Patton stayed silent. Listening.

"It… it hurts when you don't listen to me."

Tiny tears glistened in Patton's eyes, spilling over his cheeks. Holding him steady with one hand, Logan used his pinkie to dab at his face. "I've made you cry," he murmured, his own tears growing heavier.

"We're both crying," Patton said, reaching for him. Logan needed to hold Patton properly now to keep him out of the waters below. He was much larger now, almost the size of Logan's head, and growing. When had that happened?

Patton curled against his chest, upper body tucked under his chin as he circled his neck with both arms. "I'm so sorry, Logan," he whispered near his ear. "I'm so, so sorry. I want to do better."

"As do I," Logan whispered. Patton filled his arms, hugging him back. They sat together in the pool Logan's giant tears had left behind.

Patton had been right. Logan was only slightly larger than him now. Words wouldn't come and there was still so much more to say. So he let his body speak for him. Eyes shut and face buried in his hair, he held Patton tight, relishing the brush of Patton's kisses against his shoulder, his temple.

Eventually, the ground beneath them dried and grew warmer, softer. Logan opened his eyes. They were in his room, sitting on his bed, well, his mattress. The frame had shattered when Logan had woken to Patton sleeping in his arms and suddenly tripled in height. Jagged gouges remained in the corner of his ceiling, the edges stained a rusty red. Plaster dusted the floor beneath.

His eyeglasses had fallen when he'd knocked over the nightstand, his sleep clothes lay in tatters on the floor.

Leaving Logan very, very naked.

"I—" He cleared his throat and—reluctantly—pulled away. "I—I must dress," he said, rushing to his dresser and pulling out the first clothes his hands touched. He yanked on a thick pair of flannel pants and poked his head through his favorite NASA shirt before he dared look back at Patton on the bed.

He wasn't there. A cold rock settled in the center of his chest and he turned to fetch the small dustpan he kept in the en suite.

"I found your glasses." Patton's voice was at his elbow. Logan looked and Patton was right there, frames held up in offering. "I can help you with your room, too. It's still late, I bet we can finish before morning."

His shirt grew tighter and his eyeglasses pinched the sides of his head. "I thought—" Patton smiled up at him and gave him a little nod. "I—I feared you'd left."

As his frames lost their uncomfortable tightness, Patton took his hand. "I'm not going anywhere." His grin wavered. "I mean, unless you need me to?"

Patton's hand was warm in his and, after a long moment, Logan threaded their fingers together. Patton was smiling, but shadows framed his eyes and Logan's own limbs ached with fatigue and the stretch of his growth. "Perhaps we should rest now and address the repairs in the morning." He looked around his room. The recovery from his incidents could be draining. But as Patton squeezed his hand, he suspected this time it would—potentially—be a little more manageable.

"We could sleep in my room." Patton's eyebrows arched, a pure, joyful smile brightening his face.

Logan was surprised to feel a matching smile stretch across his own. "I would like that very much."

Epilogue

"Patton, stop!"

This was meant to be a nice day.

They'd been to the library, they'd—finally—started watching Spanning Time and Space, they'd even shared a few bites of his favorite non-Crofter's based snack. But now?

Temples throbbing and collar growing dangerously tight, Logan took several slow deep breaths before speaking. He'd already split the knees of his jeans and now balanced on a knife's between blowing up in the middle of the Mindscape dining room or locking himself in his room and, well, blowing up.

"Patton, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but—"

"I—" To his credit, Patton clamped his jaw shut after the single word slipped out. He sat down across from him and nodded with a little 'go on' gesture.

"Thank you." Logan slipped two fingers between his neck and his necktie, willing a bit more space to breathe. "I appreciate what you are trying to do, but we are jumping too quickly from place to place. This breakneck pace is too—" He blew out a short breath as a seam near his ankle popped. "When I do not have more time for each… selection, I… feel rushed and cannot relax."

"Oh." Patton's lower lip trembled as he fought to regain his smile. Shoulders slumped, he looked down at the note cards in his hands. The note cards onto which he'd, rather diligently, collected each and every small treat or excursion Logan had mentioned over the past three months. Logan began to rise from his seat, ready to retract his statement, to tell him to disregard, that he was fine.

Surely Logan could keep himself together long enough to finish Patton's list. He would cope with the consequences later.

~

"Patton, stop!"

Patton froze, cards clutched so tight they started to wrinkle. He finally looked at Logan, really looked at him.

He sat tall in his chair, much too tall. The skin beneath his collar pinched, straining against the now too-small polo. His eyeglasses bowed out, frames dangerously close to snapping against his suddenly wider head.

Stopping everything, Patton sat down across from him, eyes wide. Certain if he spoke again he'd fill the space with apologies or more ideas, he pressed his lips together and nodded, showing Logan he was listening.

His heart fluttered when Logan caught himself giving a numb recap of their day and instead told him what he was feeling. It worked, too. As soon as he spoke the words, his glasses eased back against his face and his voice sounded less choked.

"Oh…" Patton had been so sure about this surprise. To be honest, he'd first noticed the videos on TikTok because the first one reminded him of Logan whipping out a blank card to jot down the latest new word he'd heard. Watching more of the challenge had gotten him thinking that it could be a good way to show Logan he was listening. Logan had a lot of ideas and it wasn't easy figuring out how to fit them all in to one day and…

It sure wasn't working out the way he'd planned.

"Well," Patton began. If this wasn't something Logan wanted, then he could— "Wait!" He'd done all this to show Logan he was listening to him so, what if… All he needed was a pen. "I have an idea! I'll be right back!"

Already on his feet, Patton dashed off to the kitchen. Pens were easy to find, tucked away in the little drawer dividers Logan had suggested. Forcing himself to write slowly, he carefully copied out his idea on two cards and raced back. "One more try?" he asked, offering the cards for Logan to choose. He gave Logan his brightest smile and hoped.

Face stone, Logan avoided his eyes as he plucked a card from his hand. He was already shutting down. This had to work. Patton held his breath and waited for him to read what he'd written on both cards he'd offered.

I love love you. Let's redo today and I'll chill out this time. -P

Logan had the tiniest start of a smile when he looked up at him. He nodded.

Patton grinned and slid his chair closer. "Back to the library?" he asked, offering his hand. "We'll take our time—or… or do anything you want. For as long as you want."

Logan laced their fingers together and brought his hand up for a kiss. "That would make me very happy," he whispered before leaning in to brush another kiss against his lips. "Thank you, Patton. I love love you, too."

Kissing back, he giggled and pulled him into a hug. Logan melted against him, relaxed and happy and just the right size. "I did it!" he whispered, cheeks warming when he realized he'd spoken aloud.

Logan chuckled, nodding against his shoulder. "You certainly did."

"No, Logie," Patton shook his head and, keeping his arms looped over Logan's shoulders, pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "We did it."

~

Author's Note: When Logan suggested this particular escapade for a video, they cut the romantic Logicality aspect from the final script but kept the tear in Logan's jeans, even if no-one else understood how it had happened. Virgil said the rip had made him look less uptight. Remus said he'd spent too much time on his knees and should give Patton a turn.

Janus just smiled knowingly and washed out more of the 'fake' blood from Remus' hair.

[studio-sneebs]

is there a reason why Mind is named Helio? and why Heart is named Lune? are those names you guys chose for yourselves? I MUST KNOW!!

"[if you must know, yes, we did name ourselves; mainly due to the fact that whenever we split physically from Harmonia, we need to look rather 'normal' and civilized to other friends or remaining families of Harmonia.]"

"(it's to also remove any confusion and also because a certain NERD doesn't like my puns!)"

"[for the love of every star in our skies, your puns we're starting to get annoying.]"

"(oh shut it, it's funnier that way!)"

"[ugh.]"

[bloodmoon-cerberus]

sometimes I think DID is also waking up in the headspace of a main character in a Lovecraft-esque novel and I must shout about the horrors and the madness I have seen and witnessed and been part of, but when anyone looks I'm not yelling about Elder Gods, it's just. women