#wijjfusionau

[subtlescribbles]

f.. fhdhdh.. fusions..

OK so this took two weeks cuz I could NOT decide which fusion I wanted to draw but in the end!! I decided on Patron because I love her and she deserves to be drawn.

(if some of y'all don't know this funky little guy, he's from my Fusion AU! Check out my main @subtlereferencetomyinterests masterpost or my ao3 WaeRose if you wanna read about him <3)

(rbs are appreciated! ❤️❤️❤️)

#my art #tss #wijjfusionau #sanders sides #ts patton #ts roman #royality #sanders sides fusion #sketch

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Sharp Spikes and Glamour - Fusion AU

Ao3,   MasterPost,   More of This AU

Relationships: Romantic Dukeceit, mentioned Romantic Royality and Analogical. 

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex/sexual innuendo, violence against inanimate objects, mentions of injury- for perspective this is Remus-centric, and he’s just like that. Also mild arguing, some self-deprecating thoughts. The Dukeceit fusion uses it/its pronouns (as do I, so no clowning). 

Word Count: 3,992

Remus let himself fall backwards onto the hardwood floor, huffing. A satisfying thump echoed through the empty room, but the dull pain at the base of his skull stopped him from slamming his head down again. If Remus kept tripping over himself when his body was in top condition, he probably wouldn’t do any better with a cracked open skull and shattered vertebrae all the way down his back (however fun that might be).

Schmaltzy music lingered in the room still, and with a snap Remus willed it into silence. Now, Remus hated silence, but in that moment it felt like a blessed mercy in the wake of fucking classical fucking ‘music’. He laid flat on the floor, enjoying the quiet and wallowing in his aching muscles. As disgusted as he was by the orchestral garbage, he liked the dancing that went along with it even less- maybe for the simple fact that he was so very bad at it. 

So, the big question was why he was doing this to himself. Why had he gone through the trouble of making a dance studio in his side of the Mindpalace? Why the hell was he using it to learn waltzes, rather than his usual style of fast-paced and very suggestive movement? 

The answer was simple enough: Janus.

Now, just a month ago, Remus could very confidently say that his and Janus’ relationship was perfect. And it still was, really, but back then he’d been safe in the knowledge that they were also as affectionate and intimate as they could be! Which is to say, very very intimate. Wink, wink, if you catch his meaning. That was the way he liked it; Remus didn’t want there to be a step he hadn’t taken in any situation, but especially a relationship like that!

But then, that month or so prior, a very weird and crazy and impossible and fucking awesome thing happened right in the middle of the goddamn living room, proving Remus unfortunately and/or fortunately wrong about his boyfriend. His brother and his best friend had fused. Like, actually, Roman and Patton had pulled some cartoon bullshit that none of them had ever known they could even do before!

Obviously Remus was floored; everything there was to know about his (and other people’s) physical forms, he knew it and he’d pushed it to the limit before! Except for now, with something he had somehow never found out about that his brother got to first. That was the kicker, that was what made it both shocking and anger-inducing. 

There was no question. Remus was going to learn to do that. 

So, here he was, trying to learn, but he was not good at like, actually dancing. Which would’ve been fine, if he was dating anyone other than Janus- the most elegant, classy, coordinated side of them all! And Remus knew, somewhere in his sick-and-twisted guts, that Janus deserved to have something special, something that wasn’t more fitting in a sleazy nightclub. He wanted to give him that, no matter how hard it was.

Which was much harder than he’d originally assumed, actually. Before Remus knew it, Virgil and Logan had also managed to form a fusion before he had even gotten the hang of a waltz. And those two hadn’t even danced to get it! Wasn’t that just cementing his confidence?

Remus shook his thoughts away with a frustrated growl. He sat up on his knees braced against the ground, scraping his talons down the shiny wooden floor of his horrible, horrible dance studio. He was gonna get this right, because if there was one thing he wasn’t, it was a fucking quitter.

Swinging up to his feet, Remus pushed his hair back from his face and fixed it into a tangled mass of ponytail. He brought his arms down, and then back up again, shaking them wildly. When he deemed that job done, he kicked his legs out in much the same way. Seeing as he was the embodiment of energy, he never managed to get rid of all of it, but the wiggling definitely helped his focus. With a huff of finality, Remus settled, stared at nothing, and snapped his fingers. Shitty ballroom music filled the room again, and it took all of Remus’ effort to count his steps instead of willfully vomiting onto the floor.

But he did restrain himself, he kept his focus for once and propped his arms up on the empty air. Under his hold, the very absence of material wavered, shaping itself into something like a person. And so he laid his hands on that, in relatively respectful places, and began to lead the mannequin around the room in choppy movements. It matched him beat for beat, but it could not offer its own, organic responses like an actual dancing partner might- and that was by design.

It was boring, that was the real problem. How was he supposed to get invested if it was the same four movements, over and over! Each new attempt, he got maybe five minutes in before the fatigue hit, the need to do anything more interesting. What was just a couple of twirls, maybe a dip? Janus would still probably appreciate those additions anyway!

None of the flair attempts went well. He stumbled, hit the wall, tripped, all of it. By the end of twenty minutes Remus was waving the mannequin out of existence, feeling frustration pricking the corners of his eyes. What was he thinking, he wasn’t Roman, this was so stupid!

Remus straightened up (ha, ha) and spun around. He made his way to the corner of the room, fell into a crouch, and sunk his claws into the edges of the glossy wooden floor. Splinters bit his fingers, but he barely noticed them as he began to peel back the panels. They came free in a series of crunches and snaps, spitting shards of wood out and revealing the void beneath the ground. Remus held the chunks of flooring, feeling sharp edges digging into his palms, and he shredded them to pieces. When they weren’t much bigger than pencils, he let them fall into the newly made hole. Once done, Remus set his hands on the new edge, and he did it again. 

But, like almost everything he did, the destruction was loud. Shrieking, splitting, crunching kinds of loud. The kind of loud that didn’t go unnoticed. 

And the mindscape was as infinitely big as it was claustrophobically small.

Within minutes there was a sharp knock against the doorframe. Remus jolted upright, spitting out the hunks of plank that had one way or another found their way to his mouth. As he turned, he grinned manically, tucking his hands behind his back. 

Janus lifted a brow at him from across the room. The side stood with one hand propped on his hip, the other raised above his head so that he leaned on the doorway. His mouth was a thin, quietly concerned line, his eyes flicking around in tiny movements as he assessed the situation. 

“This is quite unlike the other rooms you've created,” He observed, clicking the back of his heel on the floor. Remus turned his gaze to the wall just above Janus’ shoulder, discreetly picking the splinters from his hands. In all honesty, this situation wasn’t unexpected- Janus was known to wander around in Remus’ new creations, whenever he wanted to catch his attention- but Remus had been under the impression that when that happened, he wouldn’t be right in the middle of tearing it all down. 

Which had clearly been a stupid assumption from the start, because he was. Himself.

“Hey, J.D.!” he chirped, scraping the last of the rubble from his fingertips, “Thought I might try out something new!”

Janus’ eyebrows arched up, a bemused smirk gracing his lips.

“An empty room?”

“Yeah, but obviously it got boring, so-” he gestured at the corner he’d torn into non-existence. “Time to get rid of it! It was probably a dumb idea, anyway.”

Even to his own ears, his cheery tone sounded forced. He threw in a gargled giggle to make up for it, but that came out even worse. Janus narrowed his eyes in that knowing way of his, then, and Remus knew he’d have to explain himself properly.

“Darling,” Janus slipped into the room with long strides, “What is so wrong that you’re using half-truths to talk to me?”

He wasn’t embarrassed that he’d been learning to dance- he was 99% sure he wasn’t able to feel shame (which was very sexy of him, in his opinion)- but he was upset that he was so disappointed at it. 

He didn’t need anyone’s approval… but he certainly wanted Janus’. 

“It doesn’t really matter,” Remus’ statement rang with honesty. He met Deceit in the middle of the room, his smile challenging, only to be met with calm and patience. 

“I don’t care if it doesn’t ‘really’ matter. I just want to know why my partner was angrily devouring housing material in a brand-new corner of the mindscape.” 

“It’s not that weird, I’ve eaten a lot worse than plywood!” 

Janus huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You’re clearly frustrated.”

“I’m frustrated all the time,” Remus argued, “There are so many stupid things to be frustrated about, you know that. It’s a very easy feeling to have, you get it without even noticing! Like, if it were an injury, it’d be a papercut; everyone has a papercut somewhere on their body most of the time.”

“What?”

“It’s an analogy, I think!”

Janus gave a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Remus felt a small bit of pride at how annoyed he looked, despite the uncomfortable situation he’d gotten himself into. 

“Whatever, if you’re really doing so well I suppose I should spare my worry and save us both the headache.”

“Exactly! See, just because I’m feeling a bit manic-panic doesn’t mean it has anything to do with you, scaleface.”

And that was his mistake. 

Janus stopped turning away as soon as he’d started, his mouth curving into a deep frown. He crossed his arms over his chest, and he almost seemed to be offended.

“You just lied.”

Remus, internally, screamed. He hadn’t even fuckin’ lied on purpose! That couldn’t be fair!

“So it is about me, then,” Janus went on slowly. “Are you angry with me?”

Remus blinked, falling untense oh-so quickly at what he now saw was Janus’ nervous face. 

“Wha- no! That’s not what this is about!” 

Janus only narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Remus grabbed the snake’s hands with his own scarred ones, pulling him near. He felt his hesitation leave as soon as it had arrived, replaced by his usual affinity for just spitting out whatever he had to say. It wouldn’t turn out any worse than having to see his baby hurt or worried. 

“It was supposed to be a surprise. For you.” 

The suspicion melted off of Janus' face in increments, leaving him with a confused little half-smile.

“For me?” He echoed, “What was it?’

Remus huffed, snapping his fingers. The lyricless music returned to the desecrated room, and he gestured around with both hands. 

“It didn’t really work out the way I planned, so,” he rolled his eyes and huffed. “I was teaching myself to dance all proper.”

Remus could basically see Janus’ thinking, and for some reason it was grating him. 

“You want to dance with me? Dear, you know you don’t need to give me traditional romantic gestures like that-”

“It was to fuse!” Remus blurted, “I wanted to fuse with you. Like, properly.”

Janus made a soft sound of realization, his eyes going wide. He was silent for a long moment, holding too-tight onto Remus’ hands. But he had yet to let go, which the creative trait counted as a good sign.

“Oh, Love,” he whispered at last, “You’re really serious.”

Remus would’ve winced, if not for the fact that Janus' face was split in a smile, open and sincere in a way that showed he'd really been caught off-guard. His face was warm, and he looked pleased for all the world. He wasn’t judgmental, then, only surprised.

“Um… yes? I wanna fuse with you?”

Janus shook his head musingly, laughing almost exasperatedly.

“No, no, I understood that bit, but-” he waved a hand at the barren room, smirk growing wider, “Ballroom dancing? You? Really?”

He had a point. The walls were a pristine white, shot through with neat marbled patterns. There were mirrors stretching the surface of either wall, reflecting onto each other with clean clarity. There was no clutter, no objects, nothing but the little box itself. And Remus felt no more frustration as he burst out laughing. He tipped his head back and cackled, tugging Janus’ arms until they were pressed together.

“I don’t know why I thought this would work!” He cackled.

“I never know why you think anything that you do,” Janus’s nose wrinkled as his own resolve cracked, leaving shrill giggling behind. Remus snorted, holding onto his partner just to keep himself upright.

“Sorry, Jay,” he almost wheezed, “There’s no way we’re gonna be able to fuse like this, I’m horrible at it.”

Janus’ giggles tapered to a stop sharply, turning to trills of confusion before cutting off completely. Remus met his eyes, and was surprised to find renewed concern. 

“Now, that’s entirely what I meant by that remark, you aren’t misinterpreting at all.”

Remus squinted at him, at the sudden spout of backwards talk.

“...What?” 

Janus scoffed.

“Of course I don’t want to fuse with you, it’s not like we’re in a committed relationship, or anything.”

Janus got very lie-ey when he was heated; the ferocity had Remus taken aback. 

“Soooo, you… do want to try it with me?”

Janus glared in a very duh-obviously--you-idiot kind of way. Remus might have been annoyed with his little tsundere, but the snake’s grumpy face edged just too much on the endearing side for it to spark any of that. It wasn’t too much of a shocking revelation, he supposed, but when he admitted to failing before it felt pretty final, in his opinion. 

“Uh, Okay! You have to lead, though, and I’m at least 60% sure it won’t work, because like I said I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Janus hummed in satisfaction, his grimace curving up into a smirk. 

“To start, we’ll need a change of scenery.”

Remus nodded agreeably. They couldn’t risk falling into the nothingness pit he’d made, after all- those were very difficult to get back out of and not a whole lot of fun in general. So when Janus held his hand out invitingly, Remus took it, letting the trait transport them to wherever he had in mind. 

But that place was no better than the destroyed dance studio at all. The room they ended up in was also very much destroyed, and cluttered, and generally very slimy. 

Remus’ room. From the corner of his eye, he saw Janus’ lips twitch in amusement. 

“Dear, let me explain,” he tilted his head back just so, making eye-contact with his boyfriend. “We’re going to fuse. It could be in here, for all I care, or somewhere bigger for our needs, but whatever it is most certainly will be a dancefloor. Because we’re not doing this your way.”

Remus made a startled chuckling noise, almost convincing himself that the doublespeak was somehow triplespeak- which just looped back around to ‘speak’, come to think of it. 

“You- that’s a really bad idea.”

Something teasing glinted in Janus’ eyes.

“Aren’t bad ideas your specialty?”

“Yes,” Remus ground his teeth together, “But not yours!”

“Your point?”

Remus breathed exhaled, loud and puffing, as he tried to explain. He wasn’t going to deny the excitement this was all bringing him, but it was hysterical, an almost negative side to enthusiasm. There were so many things that felt needed to be said. To be warned, before Janus made a horribly bad decision for himself.

“My point,” he managed, words heavy in his throat, “Is I don’t think about things, so one of us has to. I want to do this the right way, Jan, this is like the one thing I don’t want to fuck up.”

Janus narrowed his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching down.

“You think it won’t work this way.”

“You like doing things so fancy and dramatically!”

“You called it the ‘right way’,” it was hardly above a whisper, he looked surprised at his own words as he said them. Remus could only scoff.

“Well, yeah! If we do it how I would, then you probably won’t wanna be part of the creature that comes out of that!”

Janus’ pupils went from circles to slivers in no time at all, pain washing over his expression. Remus held his hands tighter and leaned in, ready to apologize for whatever he’d said to hurt him, but he couldn’t get a word in. 

“It’s going to end up more of you than me. That’s what you’re worried about.”

It wasn’t a question. Remus felt some of his usually infinite energy slip away from him. It left a hole behind. 

“I know you, baby,” he was tired, maybe desperate, “You won’t want that.”

“Why shouldn’t I want it?” Janus snapped suddenly, “I’ve already made it clear that I want you. Clearly I must find some of your qualities desirable, why else would I spend nearly all my time with you, around you, thinking of you?”

There was a fragile kind of quietness, broken only by Janus’ hitching breath. Remus found himself blinking and blinking, his eyes stinging like someone was pushing needles into his tear ducts, agonizingly slow. He pulled Janus to his chest, propping his chin on the side’s hat and shivering.

And Remus, to his own shock, had no words. He didn’t have much on his mind at all, knowing only that he felt so much in the moment, so much and so powerful and all serving to remind him why he loved Janus as much as he did.

He wanted to ask more questions, to make sure that Janus was as sure as he said he was, but he couldn’t. His snake was stubborn, would stick to his words no matter how much Remus badgered him, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. He pressed a kiss to the top of Janus head, closed his eyes, and let the emotions wash over him. 

He breathed in, out, and suddenly the second wave hit him in the chest, his eyes forced open.

Or…

It. Its eyes were forced open. Yes, that sounded right.

It stood in the middle of a room- a familiar room, but certainly not Remus’. It was much bigger, the ceiling higher to accommodate the inhabitants height, and much more organized. There was still plenty of clutter, plenty of skulls and bones and preserved creatures, but all in neat little rows on pretty rustic shelves. The place had the distinct vibe of a house belonging to a very ominous, eccentric, wealthy old murderer. Perfect.

The new creature turned its attention to itself, stretching out its limbs curiously. All nine of them, it turned out; seven arms stacked on their torso, four on the left and three on the right, all of which ending in sharp talons covered by gloves. A wicked grin split its face, and it wasted barely a moment before dashing out of the new room and down the hall. It came to the bathroom door, threw it open, and leapt inside. Two hands gripping the basin, it peered at its reflection. Two piercing, yellow eyes peered back, the pupils mismatched in shape and size. Lime-green scales covered its face and neck in splotches, smooth and diamond-shaped.

As its gaze traveled downwards, it appreciated the too-wide mouth filled with dangerous fangs, those snake-like slits up both sides of the face. Its hair was kept pinned back from its face, partially hidden beneath a black, metal crown. It was clearly messy- probably greasy- colored very dark with shocks of silver running through.

The collar of its shirt rose to nearly past its jaw, then plunged down to reveal a lot more of its chest than necessary. Its clothes were almost entirely black, broken up by the lemon/lime embellishments travelling up its arms and around the clasps in the front. The overcoat had long coattails and striped sleeves, ending in cuffs of fabric about the wrists. Moving lower it had very tight pants that did not leave much to the imagination, and boots that were more than a little over-the-top. Finally, there was the cape, hung around its shoulders and reaching floor length. It billowed when it moved even as much as an inch, looking at first like more black. Then the material caught the light, showing a dazzling display of green and yellow, glittering like a perfectly formed geode. 

A laugh sprouted from it, giddy and exuberant. It twirled in the small space, its many hands twisting and toying with its outfit, hair, anything it could reach. From its hazy mind came then came its first intelligible thought, just from its appearance: it was called Rennet.

It stilled, hands hovering in scattered positions. The sharp laughs were quieting, but it still shook like it was laughing. Just shaking in general, probably. The worries of its more excitable half weren’t all gone, not that easily, and it knew it wasn’t yet stable. 

Rennet took a breath, but its head didn’t clear, if anything it grew fuzzier. It was two creatures, two creatures that spent hours and hours inside their own heads as it was, and now both of those over-stuffed brains were in one too-small skull. It could almost feel the weight, leaning heavily on the wall just to keep upright. 

“Should we stop?” Rennet verbalized the question in a thickly accented voice, knowing that otherwise it would never be able to understand the words through the mess of its mind. 

“I don’t know,” it’s tone dropped in pitch, the sharp edges smoother, “Is that what you want?”

But it had barely gotten a chance to be. It couldn’t give up already. 

So what was wrong with it?

“Oh, I don’t know. Everything?” Rennet threw its head back, because of course the worst thought was the only one that ended up audible. It sighed, dragged a hand down its face, shook its head. “Just remember the saying- two wrongs don’t make a right!”

Rennet’s mouth shut with a snap, and it felt quite angry with itself. On behalf of itself. It wasn’t sure, really- the indignation was much like something felt when a loved one was insulted, not when one’s self was insulted. That somehow made the sting worse. 

“You think you’re wrong?” It said in a whisper, clutching its own wrists tight. Rennet knew the answer, though, knew it as it was ingrained into them.

And with that, its resolve sharpened. It was not going to come apart so easily, it would not accept either bits of it thinking anything so bad about himself, and…

Rennet was going to be the sexiest, baddest bitch the Mindpalace had ever seen. That was for damn certain. 

It stood straight up, clapping three pairs of hands together and snapping its fingers with the seventh. It had to bear in mind that it was, for the time being, a giant sparkly monster babe. Now, being sad under those conditions just wouldn’t make any sense, and it intended to keep that thought at the forefront of its newly formed mind. Because Rennet was smart, it’d certainly retained that part of Janus, and it was peppy, if Remus had any part in it at all. 

And, it mused, as it walked through the hall and down into the living room- it was undoubtedly very mischievous.

Taglist: @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob 

#sanders sides #ts #fanfiction #dukeceit #fusion #my writing #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic #fanfic #janus #remus #WijjFusionAU #I kin rennet and also i want it to maul me so it was a very fun character to write

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

also patron gives me He/She/They vibes dunno why

GENIUS take actually. His gender in my head was really vague when compared with the other two fusions' but yeah Patron definitely isn't cis. Maybe I'll implement he/she/they for the next time patron appears- that's a rly good idea.

#maybe just he/she tho #cuz i personally like the idea of all the fusions having completely different pronouns from each other #wijjfusionau #tss #sanders sides #ask

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Soft Walls and Roses- Fusion AU

Ao3,   Masterpost,   More of this AU

I think this is my first AU wow,,, So yeah this is definitely just the first installment. It can be read as a stand-alone, but I do intend on writing more with a couple of other fusions later! And then we’ll see how it goes from there. Essentially this is just a series where i get to describe a lot of cool things because descriptions are fun for me and i don’t get to do them enough. Hope u like it :3

Relationships: Royality, mentioned platonic logicality and platonic logince.

Warnings: Lots of Prose (seriously i went insane i think, this is flowery and sappy as hell), Remus makes a sex joke at one point, there is a small argument, food mention. Idk this one’s just sweet and unrelentingly fluffy.

Word Count: 3,216

Daylight streamed in through the wide windows, casting golden and bright beams across the carpeted floor and the various pieces of furniture. The patches of light were warm, comfortably so, and there wasn’t a cloud to disrupt it. Such perfect weather conditions were only mirroring the sunshine out in the real world, but Roman couldn’t help but feel that it was made especially to fit the mood in the Mindpalace. That was to say; sunny and blanketing. 

Music lilted through the living room and kitchen, a cheery little ditty chosen by Patton. It was pleasant, melodic, and not too loud to disturb the peace. Though this ‘Ingrid Michaelson’ woman wasn’t exactly Roman’s usual taste, he couldn’t help the bright smile that curved on his lips at the tunes. 

‘Relaxing days’ were a mostly foreign concept to the Sides of Sander. Someone was always either a), stressed out of their mind with work, or b), starting arguments and generally being disruptive. But today was a miracle, a dreamy noon wherein everyone was happy and sociable with each other. A once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence that everyone was keen to take advantage of, all six of them spread out in the common room to enjoy each other’s company. 

Logan was sitting on the couch, enthusiastically infodumping with Janus, the subject of the discussion requiring many big words and drawn-out sentences to explain (most of which sort of gave Roman a headache trying to think about, so he mostly tuned them out). Remus was lounging almost calmly on the floor by the two left-brained traits’ feet, an enormous sketchbook propped up on the coffee table in front of him. He interjected into the conversation constantly with irrelevant and explicit additions, but nobody seemed to mind letting him lead them on tangents. Virgil had twisted into one of his contortionist-esque positions in the corner of the couch, his headphones stuck over his ears. Occasionally he’d slip one side back, listen briefly to the current topic, chip in some snarky comment, and then go back into his own little world. But regardless, he was still offering his presence, which was well enough. 

Then finally, there was Patton. He flitted between the kitchen and the living room, swaying with the songs and singing along without much care what key he was in. He smiled so wide that his already prevalent smile lines were surely deepening even more, his eyes pushed so far up in the corners that it seemed cartoonish as the light glinted off his big, square glasses. The mouth-watering aroma of whatever it was he was baking filled both rooms, something rich and chocolatey with just a hint of lemon. 

Patton wore a stained apron overtop his soft-colored clothes, all of which were bulky and the precise opposite of form-fitting. He was the furthest thing from a fashion icon in that respect, but the way he didn’t seem to care either way rendered that fact entirely irrelevant; he looked perfect. His pitchy singing only quieted when he jumped into the conversation with a handful of jokes, which Roman always laughed at (even though he definitely wasn’t paying enough attention to understand any of them. Needless to say, he was a little distracted). 

Beautiful, adorable, precious, and countless other flattering adjectives were the words Roman would use to describe Patton in that moment. And most other moments. God, he was practically perfect in every way, wasn’t he?

The wonderful day, the lively company, and Roman’s own overwhelming affection for his oblivious friend swirled together in an almost painful surge of emotion in the Creative side. It filled up his chest, pushing hard against his ribs and making him feel even more brainless than usual. His heart felt more breakable than glass, but it only served to remind Roman that the object of his affections would never take advantage and break it, making the feeling more of a comfort than a concern.

In the end Roman could not bear the emotion quietly, rising to his feet and striding across the room as theatrically as he could. He was bursting into song before he knew it, thankfully familiar enough with the lyrics of Time Machine to belt it out like he was on a stage. 

Virgil slipped one headphone off his ear just long enough to groan at Roman, tossing a throw pillow in his vague direction.

“Dude, chill, can’t you just be happy without being loud?”

Roman shrugged, stopping in his path to the kitchen to lean over his best friend and tap the volume button on his headphones. 

“If it bothers you such, feel free to drown me out!”

Virgil hissed at him, but he was already waltzing away.

Roman slipped through the open wall and onto the kitchen counter, sliding along it elegantly, hopping down to stand near the stove.

The side spun around with a grin and a laugh, silencing his own mumbled version of the lyrics at Roman’s much louder singing. 

As he fell into place beside Patton- gorgeous, giggly Patton- an instrumental hit.

“Dance with me?” Roman asked in a slow, sultry voice (determinedly ignoring the laughing and groaning from the other sides as they overheard), his hand outstretched to the breath-taking creature before him.

“Oh, I'd love to, Roman, but the batter-”

“We can wait a little longer for sweet treats, Patton Dear- dance with me!”

Patton bit his lip through a smile, round eyes flitting between the oven and Roman himself. After trying and failing miserably to look reluctant, he huffed a little laugh and turned the oven off, shoving the batter-filled pan to the back of the counter. Roman watched as he moved, keeping his arm out and a charming smirk on his lips. 

Patton turned back around. He met his gaze. And he placed his hand in Roman’s. 

The response was immediate as Roman swept Patton up in his arms. It was surely a humorous sight, Roman leading the dance even though he was much shorter than Patton, but he was perfectly aware that if he let the taller being lead then they'd both be tripping over their feet in mere seconds. 

Roman twirled them around the small kitchen, crooning along to the peppy little love song that had replaced the previous number. Patton was making a good effort to sing along, but he wasn’t getting many words out through his laughter. Roman hardly minded the tunelessness, as long as he was graced with the sound and sight of that exuberant giggle. 

The limited space grew to be too little quickly for the pair, who’s movements got more flowy and circular. Clumsily, they maneuvered into the living room, dancing around the coffee table with some struggle. 

“Do you two have to do that in here?” Logan sent them a half-hearted glare, clearly not that annoyed with the display- but if there was one thing he was good at, it was acting aloof. 

Roman scrunched his face at the logical side, twirling Patton with a flourish out of spite.  Logan rolled his eyes, turning back to his and Janus’ (and to a lesser extent, Remus’) debate. 

Patton and Roman continued to dance, carefully avoiding the minefield of furniture and discarded items on the floor, for a good few minutes. Just as what would be their third song began, Patton brought them to a stop.

“Can I lead? Just for a second, I wanna do something!”

Roman quirked a brow, a confused smile on his lips. His curiosity nearly took control, desperate to ask what Patton meant, but at the look in Patton’s eyes he got the distinct impression that he wouldn’t want the surprise to be spoiled. 

With a decisive nod, Roman moved his hands from the sides hips to rest on his shoulders. Patton’s hands settled on Roman’s waist with a secure grip. Patton took a breath, a determined and focused look crossing his face as he went through the steps. One, two, three, a twirl, one, two, three, and then-

And then Patton dipped him.

Roman wrapped his arms around Patton’s shoulders instinctively, a startled laugh bubbling up from his throat. He needn't have worried about being dropped, though, as Patton's strong arms curved tight and supportive around him, cradling him desperately near to the moral trait’s chest. 

Warmth flooded Roman, starting in his sternum and spreading out, out, outwards, so much so that he could barely hold it all. His skin was flushed hot, especially in the places where Morality touched it. Along with the physical heat, there was also the almost painful adoration burning in him- and that smug little smile on Patton's face, slowly slipping into something softer and sweeter, Lord. It was too much to handle, and Roman felt like he was losing himself in it. His mind felt fuzzy and his body light-weight, blissfully unaware of his surroundings. Oh, he was just glowing, basking in it. 

No, wait- he was glowing. Literally! 

Actually, no, he wasn’t glowing, Patton was! No, both of them were? Or was it just one? No- yes- but then, there was only one of them. Where was Patton- no, Roman?

He opened his eyes, a gasp escaping him. 

Who was he?

He was tall, certainly taller than Roman, but even taller than Patton, too. He could just reach up and touch the ceiling if he really wanted, pressing his full palm against it. His four full palms, actually, that were attached to his four full arms. One set in the usual place, the second set placed just below them. God- nuh-uh!- Goodness, he was something else. 

His hands were big and flat, with thick, stubby fingers. That matched his general physique indeed, as despite his height he was very wide. His stomach was round and prominent, his thighs even bigger, and even his arms were flabby. But all of the fat was very obviously sitting over impressive muscles- if he flexed, there surely wouldn’t be a part of him that wasn’t sturdy and stiff. Considering that Patton and Roman were the two bulkiest sides, that wasn’t exactly shocking.

His outfit was ornate- and yet it was remarkably soft, falling in waves of fabric down his body, but clinging in all the appropriate places. Sheer, pale-blue sleeves hung well past his hands, slits running up the inside of them all the way to the elbow. The transparent material revealed smatters of freckles all over his skin, right down to the backs of his hands. 

His sleeves connected to an eggshell-white blouse, which sported shining golden buttons about the chest and collar. There was a shining yellow belt, then, from beneath which spilled a flowing and slightly ruffled white skirt. This, too, was accented with golden buttons looping around the hem. The brown leather tips of his shoes were just visible from underneath it. And the final component to the ensemble was his scarf, plush, hugging around his neck and shoulders, the color a deep crimson, shot through with streaks and speckles of gray. 

He was engrossed in his new form, examining himself with a seemingly ever-growing self-love. It took him quite a while to notice the hush that had fallen over the room, brought on by his presence. 

He glanced up with a start, seeing four pairs of incredulous eyes trained on him. 

“Oh, um,” he offered a small wave, “Hi?”

There was a beat.

Janus was the first to reply, stone-faced and blunt:

“What the fuck.”

“Yeah, I second that?” Virgil had pulled his headphones down around his neck, sitting up normally for once, posed tense as if he were about to stand. 

He- what was his name? He really ought to have one, seeing as he existed now!- Well, regardless, The Currently-Unnamed Side cleared his throat. He stood up a little straighter, flashing a wide smile for his audience. If he was going to be anything, it would be someone who made an excellent first impression. 

“Goodness gracious- it is just a pleasure to meet all of you! I’d really love to get to know you all better, but first I would really like to get to know myself. What am I, exactly?”

Logan jumped to his feet at once, his eyes sparkling like little stars. He was across the room and inspecting Currently-Unnamed in just a few long strides, pulling at the side’s arms and examining his face. He even pushed up C.U.’s oversized glasses to get a closer look at his eyes.

C.U. politely allowed the poking and prodding, knowing that Logan would probably be able to explain the situation. (Ah! There was one thing to know about himself; he admired Logan greatly.) 

The rest of the sides had gathered, one-by-one, to form a semi-circle around the new entity. They kept a respectful distance- well, mostly. Remus deigned to walk right up and audibly sniff C.U., which he was not a fan of (part of him was annoyed, but another, louder part of himself felt strongly amicable towards the trait. He’d have to talk more to his sibling- half-sibling?- later, then.)

The stunned silence was growing to be a bit awkward, as was all of the scrutiny C.U. faced. On one hand: attention!!!! On the other hand: attention… 

“You,” Logan spoke at last, an air of importance in his tone, “Seem to be some sort of fusion created between Patton and Roman.”

There was a respectable amount of gasping.

“A fusion?!” C.U. exclaimed, as though it hadn’t been so very obvious what he was, “We can do that?!”

“Evidently,” Logan was barely hiding his own excitement at the situation, smiling widely. 

“Oh- Oh my gosh! That’s awesome! I’m awesome! And awe-inspiring! And- and- and-” he sucked in a deep, gasping breath, and the word appeared in his mind as clear as a neon sign, “PATRON!”

“... Patron?” Janus muttered, looking him over appraisingly. 

“Yes, it’s a name- my name! That’s my name,” Patron confirmed with a nod, grinning broadly at nothing in particular. 

“We need to find out more about this,” Logan summoned a small notebook and pencil, flipping it open with one hand. “Now, given that we’re imaginary figments, it’s entirely possible that this is a result of Thomas’ affection for the show Steven Universe. It could be that his obsession incidentally resulted in granting us these, ah, abilities, via him subconsciously projecting elements of the show onto us. Or, it could be viewed as an extension of our abilities to shapeshift! Perhaps there’s more-”

“TEACH ME HOW TO DO IT!” Remus howled at Patron, draping himself over the much taller being. Patron gave him an indulging smile- it was only slightly strained- and opened his mouth to say he didn’t exactly know how he’d managed to fuse. 

“Wait,” Virgil interrupted, “How do we know if this is safe? What if they get stuck that way and we can’t get them out?”

“Well, the best way to figure it out is to study it, which is what I was saying,” Logan gestured to his little notebook.

“I’m just not sure about this.”

“When are you sure about anything?” Janus snarked, earning a hiss from Virgil. He hissed back, and it was unclear if it was playful or actually aggressive. Both sides then devolved into making senseless feral sounds at each other, disrupting pretty much any chance of civil conversation. 

“Who cares if it’s safe?” Remus spoke, mostly to himself, “It looks like fun.”

“It would benefit us to learn how it works before we-”

“That takes time, though-”

There was a particularly shrill hiss from Janus, exacerbating both of the budding arguments. It was headache-inducing.

“Okay!” Patron said, his voice surprisingly commanding. Immediately the squabbling silenced, the others looking guiltily in his direction. He coughed, suddenly unsure how to use this newfound power.  “Okay…” What was he saying? Oh, right- “You guys can keep arguing about me, if you wanna, but I think I’m going to go get to know myself a little better, before worrying about- any of that, actually.”

He extricated himself from the group. 

“Ooohh, get to know yourself, you say?” Remus winked. 

Patron was torn between laughing or maybe kicking him, so he settled for a nice middle ground.

“Shut up,” he slowly sunk out, “Please,” he added politely, as he left the living room behind him entirely. 

The room he rose up in was foreign and familiar in conjunction. He knew, immediately, that this was his home- one that had existed for about three seconds, but a home nonetheless. 

It felt like a dream. 

Happiness washed over Patron as soon as he arrived, it felt like walking on clouds. His vision was pleasantly hazy as he looked over the comfy-cozy room, filled to every corner with wonderful plush furniture. Every surface was patterned with flowers and lace and gold; every bit of them was as soft as loose spools of cotton and fluff. 

Patron went wide-eyed as he took it all in, smelling sweet candy, fresh roses, and earth. Almost unconsciously, he fell onto a loveseat, curling himself up in the pillows and blankets arranged on it. The lights were warm and soft, casting the room in a bubblegum-pink glow. Somewhere, distantly, music played.

“Oh, this is so pretty,” he whispered to himself. It didn’t feel like just himself, though. 

He couldn’t remember the last time either of his components had felt this way. This particular brand of contentment. The polar opposite of lonely. He felt… loved.

Patron laughed softly to himself, and it was a melody.

“I guess that answers that,” he laced his hands together, both sets, “You must adore each other, for me to love being me as much as I do.”

He imagined that the ‘revelation’ would embarrass the stuffing out of his components. They might be shy of each other, even. But, whole as he was, there was really no need to feel any embarrassment when he knew perfectly both of their perspectives. Yet again, Patton and Roman find a short-cut that means they don’t have to actually talk about their feelings! 

He laughed again, mostly at his own expense. 

“There’s one mystery solved,” Patron hummed, laying his head down upon the arm of the loveseat. His glasses were knocked up on his face, ones that he was only half-used to having, so he took them off and carefully placed them on the coffee table. It was already littered with various other objects; bright pink and pastel blue fidget toys, small bottles of nail polish, adult coloring books, small ceramic animal figurines- all of which he found himself immediately affectionate about.

Every item in the room seemed to give him a little bit more information about himself. Little things he knew intrinsically that he adored, things that hinted at his dislikes, tiny contradictions everywhere. It was almost overwhelming.

Patron huffed out a breath, sinking his fingers into foamy pillows beneath him. Before he knew it, his near-sighted eyes had fallen closed. He thought that, perhaps, it would be nice to learn about himself on his own terms. To take things slow. 

There would likely be a lot to figure out when he unfused, but unfortunately/fortunately for Patron, both of his components were quite the procrastinators, content to bask in this for as long as they wanted.

(I feel I should say that it’s pronounced “PAH-tron” not like the actual word patron haha.)

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob 

#royality #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #sanders sides #ts #ts fusion au #fusion #WijjFusionAU #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic #ts patton #patton #ts roman #roman #sympathetic sides #romantic royality

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Black Cloth and Star Systems- Fusion AU

Ao3,   MasterPost,  More of This AU

Legally speaking this is the second installment in my fusion au, and u should definitely read the first one!! but it is not necessary to understand this one.

Relationships: Romantic Analogical, (briefly) mentioned romantic Royality

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, minor insecurity (it is Logan after all), one (1) kiss, excessive cuddling, Virgil and the Logan/Virgil fusion both have monster-like traits (big teef, pointy ears, nocturnal eyes, etc.), the fusion is also agender because I said so, and seriously lots of flowery descriptions cuz I was really having a good time with this one. Oh, and lack of sleep/unhealthy sleep schedules, brief mention of paranoia (very very minor), and I think I accidentally implied that Virgil has ADHD but that’s par for the course. 

Word Count: 3,797

Logan stared at the ceiling of his room, tired eyes tracing over the patterns etched into it. They were irregular, scrawls and lines that bumped up from the plaster and stretched on and on. If he squinted, they could almost look like maps- charting and directing the reader across a very foreign land, and in addition the reader might not be good with following maps, which would explain why this one seemed so vague. Or maybe it wasn’t showing a place at all. Nowhere real, at the very least. 

Oh, what the fuck was he talking about. The ceiling was a goddamn ceiling, and Logan was exhausted.

Sleeping would be the ideal solution, and it was something he definitely wasn’t opposed to, but by this point it was borderline impossible. Logan could shut his eyes, but he knew all he’d see would be that blinding flash of pink light. He could try and try to relax beneath his blanket, but still he would see double-set of eyes, swirling between emerald green and cinnamon brown, set behind big cutesy-framed glasses. He’d picture those two pairs of arms, that staggering display of height, and the body that was decorated with gold and crimson and sky-blue. 

What he was seeing was beyond understanding, and it was all that he could think about. His friends had fused. Patton and Roman, out of pretty much nowhere, had become one being right before everyone’s eyes. One burly, talkative, and endlessly fascinating being.

Like any person who persistently sought knowledge, Logan had taken to investigating the new creature at once. He’d had questions, burning questions, but Patron- as he’d named himself- had requested some alone time in his new form. It was a perfectly reasonable ask, so Logan resolved to postpone his interviewing until Patron was ready. But then, just as he was looking forward to finding out more about him that next morning, he was back to being two sides. Two sickeningly sweet sides who were way too caught up in their new relationship to answer any of Logan’s questions copacetically (All their answers had been full of purple prose, talking about how fusing was just the most amazing thing, and providing no real insight into it at all). 

Logan, presented with bizarre occurrences and offered no explanation, was understandably restless, abuzz with curiosity, and frustrated. And, if he was being honest, he was interested in the topic beyond what could be considered objective study, as well.

Very interested, in fact. He found himself wondering that… perhaps… Was he also capable of fusion?

Yes, the best way to learn about it would be to experience first-hand, so that would solve that problem. But that was hardly Logan’s entire reason for wanting to try it; Patton had soundly reported that forming Patron helped his and Roman’s communication by miles. Specifically vis a vis their more affectionate emotions, which really ended up being the thesis of the whole ordeal. It was, fundamentally, a very affectionate thing. 

Logan sat up abruptly, shooting a glare at his door from across the room. This was getting ridiculous; it would be a horrible idea to try something as significant as fusing with so little information on it. Just because it seemed self-explanatory didn’t mean that it was, and the results could be unstable and catastrophic!

But. 

But it wouldn’t be. There was the side he knew- the side he trusted- well enough to believe that it wouldn’t really go so awry.

Logan was making excuses.

What was there to be explained verbally that wouldn’t be much easier to just experience? Patron had proved two things: 1, fusing could happen, and 2, fusing could un-happen without issue. Any of the specifics would be figured out best by firsthand experience, that was pretty evident.

So Logan was making a few excuses, and maybe he was a bit scared about the whole thing, but so what? It was a moot point anyway, because Virgil would never want to participate in it, anyway. The idea of fusion would only upset the anxious side, maybe send him spiraling, and that was the last thing Logan wanted. 

With a groan, Logan flopped back down onto his bed, resuming his studious observation of the popcorn-patterned ceiling.

… 

Yeah, it wasn’t working.

Logan dragged himself up yet again, flinging the covers off of his legs harshly. He sat, immobile, glaring down just past the foot of his bed for an uncertain amount of time. He then heaved a very over dramatic sigh, kicked his legs over the side of his mattress, and stood. He set his feet down as though the carpet had personally wronged him, trodding across the room and throwing his door open with the same temperament. 

 The hallway was pitch dark, but Logan barely noticed it. He made his way down the stairs, the map of the Mindpalace splaying out in his head and directing him as well as light would. As soon as he hit the bottom of the stairs, his (moody) stomping ceased, for the time being. He tipped his head to one side, confused, as he listened out. 

There was a perfect silence.

An abrupt perfect silence. The very specific type of quiet that was too clearly manufactured. Such a- a tense hush could only be brought about by someone deliberately holding their breath. 

Logan shuffled his feet, peering into the blackness. Something shifted over by the couch, and the gleam of two reflectively-paneled eyes made themselves apparent. Logan yelped in fright, stumbling over his legs and bumping his back into the wall. 

There was a thump from across the room, a curse of ‘oh, shit’, and another shimmer from those eyes, animalistic and narrow. 

“Logan?” A gravelly voice asked, “Is that you?”

Logan blinked, staring at the dark silhouette that had come to stand before him. Animalistic, perhaps, but very very tall, and very very person-shaped. 

“Virgil?”

A lamp clicked on, washing the room in low and orange light, revealing that the creature was indeed Virgil. He looked considerably more human, now that he could be seen past his imposing outline- and he also looked more tired. 

Somehow, despite all of the other oddities in their situation, Logan found himself preoccupied by the smallest detail.

“Your eyes, Dear,” he drew forward for a closer look,  “How haven’t I noticed? They’re reflective!”

Virgil shrugged impassively, leaning down to let Logan hold his head and examine the unusual feature. 

“You can’t really tell unless it’s very dark out, or if you know what you’re looking for. I guess it just never came up.”

“But you can see in the dark, then?” Logan asked, perfectly aware that he sounded more than a little awed. Virgil just snorted, looking endeared. 

“Yup,” he popped the ‘p’, “Is it that big of a surprise?”

Logan turned the question over in his mind, but after a moment he shook his head, no. Virgil already had a multitude of unique attributes- his fangs, his claws, and a few more distinct things that only appeared when he got particularly stressed. (All of the sides had traits like those, actually. Of them, Logan was certainly the most average- the only discrepancy had to be his slightly exaggerated proportions, and even that couldn’t compare to some of the others’.)

Virgil hummed vacantly, shifting his weight a few times over. He kneaded his shoulder, glancing down at Logan with sudden interest. 

“So, what’s up with you? It’s like, three in the morning.” 

Logan stiffened, but tried to disguise the worry. 

“I could ask you the same question,” he deflected, ineffectively. Virgil only smirked in response. 

“I mean, I guess you could: paranoia, pent up energy, general inability to focus- you know, the stuff that keeps me up every night. You, though,” Virgil hovered over him, making him tilt his head back to keep eye-contact with their height difference. Logan felt his face flush, though it was only partially due to embarrassment. “You don’t stay up late, L, like ever.”

“I’ve just been thinking a lot,” he once more evaded. 

“You’re always thinking,” Virgil responded with a laugh, but he stood up straighter and gave Logan his space. Logan glanced up, confused, only to get a shrug by way of reply. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, babe. I’m not gonna, like, interrogate you. I just… wanna make sure you’re okay, is all.”

“Oh,” he smiled, “Yes, I am. Thank you.”

Virgil gestured to the couch, returning the smile.

“Wanna stay up with me? Might help you get your mind off whatever it’s on.”

Logan relaxed at that, nodding a bit sleepily as he followed his partner to the sofa. 

Virgil’s arm was twined around Logan’s waist, holding him into the taller trait’s side as they sat comfortably on the couch. In the near pitch dark, Virgil’s laptop was propped up against the coffee table, the screen lit up by slightly unnerving YouTube animations. 

Truth be told, though, Logan had paid attention to exactly none of them. He had a few reasons for this: one, he was very sleepy. Two, Virgil was warm- much warmer than himself, as Logan had always had strangely cold skin, and the heat was calming. And three, he was still caught up in his own thoughts, albeit less frantic and frightened versions of them by this point.

He knew that Virgil could easily sense his anxiety, but still, Anxiety did not pry. Add that to the many-paged list of reasons why Logan appreciated him as much as he did. 

Appreciate him he did, yes, and he also- he trusted him. Completely. To such a degree that, in the serene partial-silence between the couple, Logan found himself wondering what would happen if he just… told Virgil? If he explained what was on his mind, would it really upset him as much as he feared? The idea of fusing, well, just talking about it couldn’t be too much of a disaster. They were too strong, too stable for that.

“Virge?” Logan didn’t turn to look at him as he spoke. The name was really just a murmur on his lips, uttered noncommittally and with the hope that it might just go unheard.

With a soft click, the video paused, and Virgil shifted. 

“Yeah?”

Oh. He was really doing this.

“Could I ask you about something?” Logan would’ve left it at that, but feeling Virgil tense up beside him, he hurried to elaborate: “It’s nothing bad, my love, I just- it’s what’s been worrying me, this evening.”

“Uh- ask away, I guess..”

Logan took a deep breath, feeling his heart rate increase concerningly. He was thankful for the lack of light in the room; if the embarrassed heat spreading across his face was any indication, he likely looked just as nervous as he felt.

He exhaled, trying to focus on Virgil’s arm around him instead of the worries. Everything would be alright.

“You remember when Patton and Roman fused, I trust?”

There was an almost subtle intake of breath from Virgil. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t about to forget something like that, L.”

“Right, of course,” Logan found Virgil’s hand and wound their fingers together, fiddling with them. “I just wanted to know your thoughts on the situation.”

There was a beat.

“Um. I’m just relieved that they could get back to normal, I guess. I was sorta worried they’d get stuck- which doesn’t make a lot of sense in hindsight, but with how clingy they both are, I mean…” 

Logan hummed, encouraging him to go on, despite the intelligent side’s swiftly fading hope.

“But, like, now that I know they’re okay, I guess it’s not really any of my business?” Hesitation laced Virgil’s voice, as though he wasn’t sure what he was meant to say. “Other than that, though, I just think it’s kind of weird. Like, the whole idea of it. Fusion.”

“‘Weird’ in a negative sense?”

“I don’t know, man,” Virgil huffed, “I mean, I’m not a big fan of cartoons but- it’s weird like it’s interesting, weird like I wanna know more. If that makes any sense.”

Oh. That was promising.

“It does make sense,” Logan whispered, desperately emphatic. The glow of Virgil’s eyes turned to him, wide enough that they looked like little full moons.

“Did you-” he stopped short. Inhaled sharply. Then asked it all in a rush: “Are you asking because you wanted to try it? With me?”

Logan stayed silent, gripping too-tight to his boyfriend’s hand. He sounded… surprised? But maybe not upset? 

Oh, who was he kidding, he’d never been able to read tones, really, and it was too dark to try and figure out Virgil’s body language. He’d just have to go blind on this one.

“Yes,” Logan blurted, immediately holding his breath for a response.

Virgil was as stiff as a board. His hand was frozen in place, his gaze boring into Logan. 

“Are you sure?” 

His tone was soft, sweet, and so so careful. Logic blinked. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from Virgil, but he knew that it wasn’t something so… gentle.

“I- maybe? It’s not necessary, if you don’t think you’d be comfortable with-”

“That’s not what I was asking,” Virgil interjected, “I wanna know if you’re sure that you want this, not how you think I feel.”

Logan mumbled an apology, feeling oddly chastised. He collected his thoughts and tried again.

“Yes, I’m sure. I- I trust you, Virgil.”

Virgil relaxed considerably, his head dropping to rest in Logan’s hair. 

“Okay. Good.”

And with that, he went quiet again. The show was not unpaused, though. Logan wondered if he was meant to say something, and if so he wondered what it was. But in the end he couldn’t make any sound at all.

Virgil’s hand slipped out of his, instead moving to the back of his neck. Logan instinctively leaned forward with its direction, letting himself be held close. In turn, he wrapped his arms around Virgil’s waist, turning sideways into him. He was close enough now to hear the beat of the anxious side’s heart, which was always rather quicker than anyone else's. This time, though, it was like a hummingbird’s, hammering loud and excited.

Logan tilted his head (as much as he could) in confusion. Had the conversation somehow affected Virgil more than it first seemed? Was something about the situation that spiked his anxiety? But that didn’t add up, either, because his breathing was completely even, and he wouldn’t let anyone be this close to him if he really was panicking.

Before Logan could ask what- if anything- was wrong, Virgil nestled his face in his hair, holding him impossibly tighter. And at that point, they were pressed flush together head-to-toe. And that was what made it click. 

Oh, they were doing this now. This- this was Virgil’s way of attempting- 

Logan hooked his ankle around Virgil’s, clumsily attempting to reciprocate the- erm, the Thing That They Were Trying. Heat rose in his cheeks at even the thought of it. 

What was he supposed to do? Was there some way to activate it? Was it enough to simply touch, or was movement required to fuse? What if they couldn’t get it to work at all? That would make plenty of sense, Logan was logic and what was the possibility that he’d follow the same rules as, say, Roman-

“Hey.”

Logan glanced up, his neck straining at the angle. Virgil was gazing down at him, pupils expanded with fondness, his fingers easing through the hairs at the back of Logan’s neck.

“Calm down, okay?” 

Logan might have commented on the irony of that, but Virgil was leaning forward and pressing their lips together oh-so gently, and all his thoughts flew out of the proverbial window as he kissed back. 

It was soft, light, maybe a little clumsy. The touch was barely-there, really, just ghosting. And then it wasn’t there, at all. The feeling faded, as did so many others, but neither of them were moving apart- or at least, they didn’t think that they were. If anything, they seemed to be getting closer, and closer, but-

Closer to what, exactly?

They opened their eyes. Wait, no, they blinked a couple of times- ah, there, they opened all- five?- of their eyes. Not only was it no longer pitch black, but it seemed that lights had been conjured above them, dozens of tiny purple and blue tea lights that cast the living room in a pleasant glow.

Had- had they caused that? Somehow?

Conjuring on accident- how did they manage that? And what else could they do? What couldn’t they do, though, in this new form? Something like them was bound to have limitations.

They stood up sharply, and immediately cracked their head against the ceiling. They yelped in pain, silently amending that standing up straight while indoors was the first limitation to note. They hunched over, managing to keep upright if they just bent their knees and tilted their neck. And that brought on a much more important investigation into themself: their new physical form.

They were obviously very tall, but also sort of- long in general? Their limbs, their fingers, their face, every feature was very narrow, almost spider-like. And, on the topic of spider-like limbs, they had two sets of arms; one in the usual place, but another placed behind that, curving around from just under their shoulder blades. In addition, their fingers, lithe and spindly, were six on each hand. Despite the unordinary length to many of their appendages, though, they were still noticeably muscular. Wide shoulders, a defined abdomen, and sturdy legs.

With a sharp wave of their hand, they conjured a full-body mirror to hang in front of them, promptly leaning over to examine themself.

Their face was made of edges; sharp cheekbones, pointed ears, and blocky glasses that covered all of their eyes but the middle one. They ran their fingers through their shaggy, curled up hair- a good deal of which fluffed forwards past their forehead and into their face. It was mixed colors, swirls of purple and blue blending together in soft, bouncy locks. 

They had interesting features aplenty, but one thing stood out dramatically. One thing that drew their attention at once. 

The mouth.

Their lips were dark- almost black, with hints of color toned under it. They dragged a finger along it, but it didn’t wipe away like makeup. They opened their mouth, revealing long needles of teeth, dozens and dozens of them top and bottom- all except for the upper canines. Those were thick, overly large, and tinted with purple. They ended in dangerous looking points, shoving out past the new side’s lips even when they closed their mouth, appearing much like an arachnid's venomous mandibles. 

They took a step back from the mirror, experimentally poking their big fangs. To their surprise, the teeth moved; just a wiggle, but enough to show that they were mobile, that they could be flexed and retracted. Well, that was...

That was sick as hell.

Now, to investigate their outfit: they were a little monstrous, sure, but also very smartly dressed. They wore a navy blue plaid waistcoat, laid overtop of a pastel purple sweater, which in turn was beneath a plain, black, short-sleeved button-up shirt. Their tie was a simple white with subdued flecks of violet and sapphire, dotted to look intentionally asymmetrical. 

Their lower half also bore a layered aesthetic: sheer lavender leggings beneath strategically ripped black jeans. They also wore a short, tight skirt over it, the color and pattern matching that of their waistcoat. A few chains dangled from the belt loops on their hips, clinking a little as they moved. They had sleek black shoes with small platforms, something vaguely Demonia-style. Altogether, the look was a strange blend of elegant and alternative. Strange, but very, very, very… becoming, to say the least. 

They couldn’t help staring at themself. Actually, ogling might be the more accurate word. They were hot, was that vain to say? If it was, they didn’t particularly care, because it was true. Of all the things they could have been together, confident wasn’t expected, but it was more than welcome. Because- damn.

Five minutes of gawking at their own reflection wound up being enough, in the end, and they forced themself to wave the mirror back out of existence. There were so many more things to consider about themself, after all, and that just couldn’t wait any longer. There were infinite things to know, God, they were a new creature entirely.

It was… it was overwhelming. They had so many questions. They had so many concerns, millions of them, and millions of thoughts that didn’t fit into either of the aforementioned categories, thoughts that existed just to fill up space in a head that suddenly felt overpacked. Too many minds in such a reduced space.

It’s okay, they thought, sucking in a deep, slow breath, One at a time, Dear.

There’s too much. I can’t see it all. I can’t explain all of it.

Which half of them was that? Was it… both? Both of them, comforting and receiving comfort? What an impossible creation they’d become! Wait, no, they had to focus on calming down before they gave that any thought. 

We can’t get to all of it, they agreed with themself, Some of it, though, certainly.

Like what?

They thought for a moment.

We could start with a name?

Oh. That’s probably important.

Yes, just a bit. 

They let their breath out in a laugh, pulling their sleeves past their hands and curling their fingers in the fabric. It took only a second of contemplation before, quite promptly, they knew what they were going to be called from now on. They knew their name, and everything else began to click into place from there.

Livril.

They sighed, contented, and sat back into the corner of the sectional. They didn’t exactly fit, curling up on the couch as they had before, but they were easily flexible enough to find a way. Now that they knew their name, they could really start learning who exactly Livril was.

There was so much they could learn from this, so many things they could enjoy this way. What music did they like? (Probably sad. Most certainly folk punk.) How did they speak? (sharply, they would guess.) How did they move? (Quick, startling, definitely fidgety.)

And that was hardly all, though it was a good start. There was so much more to get to, and they intended to answer all of it as soon as possible.

...But that ‘as soon as possible’ would probably be in the morning, because Livril fell asleep exactly two minutes after their head hit the couch cushion.

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob 

#sanders sides #ts #analogical #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #fusion au #sanders sides fusion au #logan #virgil #WijjFusionAU #look i havent watched steven universe in like a year but dammit if fusion isnt cool as hell #anyway livril could make fun of me and id thank them

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

hi there ! idk if u remember but im the person on ao3 who asked if i could draw ur fusions for the sides. rlly sorry 2 bother , but im starting w livril first n just for clarification the order of the top part of their fit is dress shirt-sweater-vest and not sweater-shirt vest right ? just with the way its worded its kinda tricky to tell and i dont wanna get it wrong ! again sorry 2 bother hope u have a good day

Oh don't worry, you aren't bothering me at all!! I actually had to check to remember and ur right I phrased it weird, but it was supposed to be sweater underneath shirt underneath vest. Hope that helps- and thanks again for wanting to draw my fusions, that's so cool of you!

#ask #wijjfusionau #hi hi i definitely never forget when ppl offer to draw fanart of my fics ajsjsj

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Bitter Licorice and Bright-Blue Bubblegum - Fusion AU

Ao3,   Masterpost,   More of this au!

Part five time baby! Livril is back and they get to have their character developed. This fic includes entirely too much talk of folk punk music and alt subcultures so prepare to be a teensy bit alienated /hj. 

Relationships: romantic analogical, background romantic royality and dukeceit, platonic moxiety and logicality (via Livril)

Warnings: Cursing, a bit of caffeine dependency, bickering, non-human features, insincere threats of violence. Livril seems like they hate most of the other sides but they’re kinda just Like That. Everyone’s sympathetic they’re just very catty. 

Word Count: 4,665

Livril liked existing. In fact, they would even say they were quite good at it. 

They ended up existing more and more often as time went on. If Logan got himself a free moment, and if Virgil ramped up his energy enough, then there Livril was. Each time, their body became easier to pilot, their personality sharpening and defining itself all the while. They could eventually navigate the Mindpalace without much struggle, despite their unreasonable height- although their own room was undoubtedly their favorite place. Livril’s limbs fit together naturally, they spoke confidently, and they had even- with a good deal of trial and error- figured out how to eat around their massive fangs. 

The entire experience of it was… comforting. It was educational. Calming. And it was fun. There was only one fault with it that they could bring themself to admit. 

Logan and Virgil brought out the worst in each other. 

Oh, not in a terribly serious way, of course. Not in an unstable, cruel-and-manipulative, genuinely bad person sort of way. Livril didn’t cross any lines with anyone, and they were decently considerate, especially between their components. They were obviously a healthy, loving relationship.

But dear God, was Livril a bitch.

A bitchy, bitchy, bitch, and about that nearly everyone could agree- themself included! What could they say? Flaws and all, they were still an honest creature (if a little sarcastic), and what they lacked in politeness they more than made up for in smarts, efficiency, and most of all, looks. But really, what were they to do when everyone around them was in desperate need of humbling if not happily provide those much needed takedowns?

How was it their fault that the unbelievably pretentious Janus had walked right into their space so arrogantly, utterly warranting his own verbal assassination?

“I am telling you,” Livril enunciated, shockingly calm despite their urge to snicker. “That you are wrong.” 

“How?” Janus spat back at them, fuming already and it had only been a handful of minutes. “No, no, you tell me right now how I’m wrong, when I’m the one who’s read everything that there is to read on this subject, including this mess of a book that you recommended to me? This issue is incredibly complex, and you can’t begin to appreciate it’s intricacies!” 

-and on and on he continued like that, riled up in a way he seldom ever got. Every single one of his S’s was slurred and emphasized. Livril was genuinely proud of themself for getting such a rise out of him; they liked to think they had a talent for that sort of thing. 

“Oh, you’ve read everything, right?” Livril deadpanned, “Sure, sure. That’s completely believable.”

“Everything relevant on the topic, I’ve read.”

“Well, I don’t remember when it was that you learned Mandarin. Or Spanish. Or, you know what, any language spoken natively by more than a few million people- because such a widespread subject as this is covered in a hell of a lot more languages than ours, and I can tell you right now that not nearly everything quote-on-quote ‘worth reading’ has been translated appropriately into English. That’s some Western-centric bullshit, Janus.”

The human half of Janus’ face reddened, and he crossed his arms defensively over his chest. Livril leaned against one of their enormous bookshelf of a wall, smug.

“You’re being needlessly semantic,” Janus snipped.

“Needlessly? One would think that with such a- what were the words you used?- complex and intricate subject, being specific would be pretty damn important. Unless-” Livril pressed a hand to their lips in mock surprise, their fangs twitching joyfully, “-Precision isn’t really your concern, but rather you just want to be correct. Oh wait, that does sound like you!”

Janus slammed a paperback on Livril’s desk, no doubt crumpling its pages. A book he’d borrowed from Livril the last time they had spoken, and only once Livril was reformed was he able to discuss with them. The idea that he’d been waiting a few days, expectant, perhaps anticipant, for what turned out to be such an infuriating interaction for him- well it just made Livril positively delighted.

Janus was vibrating angrily, but they knew just how much he loved the arguments, seeing as he kept seeking them out each time Livril was ‘in town’. Maybe it was out of a sick stubbornness more than anything. 

“You,” Janus seethed, “You are such a- a-”

Livril laughed. It was not a nice laugh.

“Oh? Do insult me, please. It’s clearly the most respectful way to wrap up an argument.”

In the end, Janus’ determination to be so stiffly put-together and in control won out, and he drew back. He cleared his throat, still distinctly flushed, and as the anger was forced out of him one got the sense that he was wringing himself out like a sponge. With a sarcastic thanks, and a positively withering glare over his shoulder, he swept out of the room in haste. Livril could’ve sworn he even stuck his tongue out at them, maybe. 

But all the better that way, as far as they were concerned. The guy needed to lose his composure once in a while, emotional catharsis was pretty critical and all that. Livril was happy to provide such a useful service for their friend. 

And besides… Janus had been wrong. 

Livril was themself once again. It was the sixth, perhaps the seventh time they’d fused recreationally, over the course of a few months. Open in front of them were imprecise notes written with a scratchy, inky scrawl in purple pen. Their bangs were pinned back from their face, five eyes peering studiously down at a notebook, while they tapped out a rhythm on the kitchen counter with a free hand. Headphones were jammed over their ears, the heavy accessories blaring out only the most depressing of The Mountain Goats’ discography. 

Generally, Livril worked in their own room. They liked to appreciate it while it was existing: its wide black walls, the glowing star-like lights spread across the tall ceiling. Endless fidget tools and puzzle toys were placed neatly on their sizable desk, ready to be tossed from hand to hand to hand while they focused. Then there were the heavy curtains and draperies decorating the walls, or the posters and picture frames and unique little paperweights in the corners of their bookshelves. Their room felt… mysterious. Intriguing. A little on the colder side of things, but Livril preferred a colder temperature. 

There was also the fact that they could actually stand up without cracking their skull against the goddamn ceiling, of course.

Unfortunately for Livril, it had become necessary to be in a common space, for once. Ugh. 

It was only because they wouldn’t tolerate having food in their working environment, and they were hungry enough to be attempting to eat a sandwich around their swollen teeth rather than waiting until unfused to get a bite (taking notes on the process all the while, as they usually did when they tried anything new. Notes with doodles on the margins, in their darling little leather-bound notebook). 

So, at the kitchen bar it was for them. Hence the large, intimidating headphones, because surely no respectable person would see those and still try to-

“Depressomorph!”

Rough hands grabbed Livril’s shoulders, spinning them around and shoving their headphones down around their neck. Their heart rate spiked and they hissed viciously, barely stopping themself from smacking Remus across the face with their hastily raised hand. Not that they hadn’t realized it was him, no, they just really wanted to hit him for that little stunt. 

“Get the fuck off,” Livril pushed him, brushing themself off huffily and running through a couple of breathing exercises. It was fine, if everyone could just- not leap out at them like a wild animal. 

Roman, trailing into the room after his brother, had the decency to look at least a little apologetic. He frowned sympathetically at Livril, but it was obvious that even he was trying to stifle a laugh. 

“Can I help either of you?” Said Livril, in the opposite of a helpful mood.

Remus circled around to the kitchen side of the bar, propping his elbows up on the counter and grinning broadly at Livril. As always, his eyes were locked on to their inhuman features, expressing a mix of envy and unfortunate horniness. Livril fixed him with a glare.

“We made something super fucking cool,” Remus announced, like it was the best news in the world. Roman perked up, taking a seat just beside Livril with obvious agreement, and just like that, they already felt boxed.

“We did, actually,” Roman nodded proudly, “You ought to like this one, really, seeing as you’re, um. Logic and anxiety, that just has to have an appreciation for the avant-garde arts!” 

Livril did not dislike Roman. Livril’s components did not dislike Roman. But if Roman was easy to argue with for both their halves, well, it got about a million times worse when they were together and also being accosted by him. 

Livril gave the twins a disapproving look.

“The list of things I appreciate is short and upsetting.”

“Wow,” said Remus, “Okay, Trad-Goth.”

“More like Trad-gic Goth,” Roman chimed. 

Remus snickered. 

Livril slammed their pen down, because no, absolutely not, that was the last straw. Their violent need to correct people coupled with their deep appreciation for subcultures could not let that slide.

“Okay, no, no, that’s not what Goth means, you dumbasses. I was being angsty, but gothness- especially traditional gothness- has nothing to do with an emotion, or even really an attitude. Have you ever met a goth? They are disturbingly cheery,” Livril stood up, ducked to avoid bumping their head, and set two hands on their hips. “Remus, you’re a God-forsaken Aurelio Voltaire fan! I would expect this kind of behavior from Roman- he’s such a prep,” Livril jabbed a finger at the side in question, earning an indignant squawk of hey! “But you, Remus? I’m surprised. I mean, I thought you were crustpunk. Or was it… cyberpunk? Since you want to use these terms interchangeably, apparently.”

Remus had looked absolutely delighted at Livril’s annoyance for most of the rant, but he jumped up suddenly on the last point, and they knew they’d hit their mark. 

“Okay, don’t compare me to that depressing techie-emo garbage!”

“Wait,” Roman interjected, glancing bemusedly between them, “What is the difference between them? If they’re both punk?”

Livril looked at Roman, patronizing. Remus looked at Roman, aghast. 

“The fucking- Okay, I’m gonna peel your skin back layer by layer, you bimbo!”

Roman blinked, obviously caught off guard by the sudden jump in tone. 

Livril threw a bit of fuel on the fire, smugly: “Now, see, that is more Horror Gothic.”

“Goth is punk, isn’t it?”

While they had found the question annoying as well (because good Lord, Livril knew the extent to which Virgil had talked about the various alt subcultures with his friend, and apparently Roman has retained none of it), they stepped away from the bar and brought their journal with them. Remus looked fired up enough to handle berating the fuck out of his brother himself, about something of absolutely no importance, for what would likely be a long while. It was few things that got him so genuinely upset, but his passions could usually be counted on to do the trick when picked at just so. 

So with the twins turned against each other completely, Livril was able to slink away unnoticed, to find somewhere a bit more quiet to think about themself. 

If Livril was mean when they were awake, then that had nothing on Sleep-Deprived Livril. 

They didn’t usually sleep, actually. Even if they were planning to be themself for more than one day (which was a very rare occasion in and of itself), then Virgil and Logan always found it better to unfuse, fall asleep cuddled up embarrassingly close, and re-fuse in the morning. But again: uncommon. There had been that brief nap the first time Livril had formed, late at night, but that was essentially all Livril knew about sleeping. 

This time, however, they’d been both far too caught up in what they were doing, and far too keyed up to relax. Livril’s components had insisted on remaining together, though, because the Virgil within them knew he was being hit with a big wave of meaningless anxiety, and when Virgil was a part of them, it all became easier to handle. Logan, for his part, did not mind taking the edge off the stress by enduring a bit of it himself. He adored being connected to his partner in the first place, and the trust that came with it, and so. Livril had stayed. 

And then Livril had passed out on their couch, sleep-deprived, and woke up with an overwhelming urge to give themself a stern lecture. They felt a similarly pressing need to tell themself to shut up. 

What they needed most of all was caffeine. 

Livril entered the living room and collapsed into a chair, all their limbs folding up antisocially, a cup of coffee each in two of their hands. They slumped over the small table, positioned either drink beneath one of their mandible fangs, and slurped in a way that was definitely disgusting. Whatever, who gave a shit, it was nine in the morning and this was their own goddamn business. 

Livril was halfway done with their first round of coffees (black, bitter coffees) when footsteps thumped their way down the stairs. With very little warning, Roman was then singing his way into the room. 

Roman was admittedly a wonderful singer, voice of an angel, sure- but he was so goddamn loud and the clock was still in the a.m., so Livril couldn’t really have cared less about how technically skilled he was. He could’ve been Conor fucking Oberst, and they still wouldn’t have hesitated to feel Rage and Rage alone. 

Livril made a show of jamming their free hands over their ears, scowling murderously at Roman as he strolled past their table. 

He did not stop. He did not look at them or acknowledge them. He was officially The Worst Person Ever. 

Livril sucked down the rest of their coffees desperately.

“Excuse me?” Roman cut off his solo rendition of Suddenly Seymour abruptly, turning to look at Livril over the kitchen bar. “Could you not drink like a giant drooling tarantula? The noise is horrible. Thank youuu.”

Livril narrowed their eyes at him, hoping that made it abundantly clear that the only thing separating Roman and a broken nose was the small amount of decorum the Logan-half of them still valued. It was a very thin thread.

“And you definitely know a lot about horrible noise,” Livril snipped. 

Roman blinked in offense, placing one hand over his chest and looking about ready to launch into an argument, when yet another series of awful sounds came thundering down the staircase.

Well, not really. It was just Remus talking, but… still. It was really too early for him to be saying anything at all, in Livril’s humble opinion. 

Remus barrelled carelessly into the living room, followed by an exhausted-looking Janus- and at the very least maybe Livril could get some sympathy there, but Janus was obviously not their biggest fan so it wasn’t particularly likely. Besides, the pair of them, however much they got on each other’s nerves, never seemed able to turn on each other no matter the argument or cause. It was almost sweet, the unified front they presented. 

Livril was not in the mood for sweet. 

Livril darted into the kitchen, pouring another set of coffees and determinedly ignoring Roman. They hopped up onto the counter and curled their legs beneath them, spider-like and almost elegant.

Remus assumed the now-abandoned spot at the table- on the table, that was- chattering about this or that or the other thing that might have been a breakfast request for his partner to make, or might have been a grocery list for an auto body shop. Could’ve been both.

Janus swept into the kitchen, glancing over a disgruntled Roman and an exhausted Livril, and smirked. 

“Well, aren’t you an early bird today, hm?”

Livril glared tiredly into the middle distance. 

Janus laughed: “Oh, what’s wrong? Does having two minds at work make it harder to sleep, or are you always so caffeine dependent?”

Roman glanced between the two of them, smiling triumphantly, and ugh, it was so like him to swoop back into an argument as soon as there was a winning side. What a normie.

“Yeah, Liv,” ew ew ew, “Aren’t you the one who bemoaned it so when Patton and I wanted to take a nap as Patron? ‘Cause we ‘couldn’t know the consequences’,” he gave a shoddy imitation of their voice. And sure, they had expressed such a concern, but apparently being worried about their coworkers was just entirely a crime!

“I’m not surprised,” Janus chimed wickedly, “That hypocrisy is a trait they retained.”

Which was when Remus thought it apt to lean his upper body over the kitchen bar, grinning: “Did they get any of the good ones, actually?”

Okay, they would not stand for this attack, not in any way. Livril was perhaps bitter, but at the very least everyone around them was to match, and so they did not have any qualms about raising themself up and (verbally) tearing everybody’s goddamn heads off. 

“Okay, listen up you little-”

“-Virgil?”

Livril’s mouth shut with a snap- more or less- and their head swiveled to the doorway. So, too, did the three others’, all to find a sleepy Patton standing just inside the kitchen. 

He was smiling bemusedly, still wearing sleep-clothes, and glancing between the arguing sides sort of blearily. His hair was fluffed up around his face, and he hugged himself unconsciously around the middle. He was, in a word, adorable.

“No, wait,” Patton squinted, lifting his glasses up to rub at his eyes, “Logan? No, you’re not- is that-?”

Ah, right. 

Livril, in all of their times popping into existence, had never interacted with Patton at all. Was it intentional? Yes, of course. Was it malicious? The entire opposite.

They were quite brash, as they’d admitted plenty enough. And, well- the twins could handle that, Janus could most certainly handle that, but Patton…

Patton was Virgil’s best friend. He was something of Logan’s, too. No part of Livril wanted to be mean to him, so, it was for the best that they kept away from him as long as possible. It didn’t help how often he begged to meet them, either. He seemed so excited to, and to be blunt- however attracted to themself Livril was, they had the distinct impression that to Patton, they would be a disappointment. 

But, oh well. There he was. Staring at them.

“Um,” Livril said, “Hello.”

“Hi,” Patton replied, “Are you- you’re… both of them? You are, right?”

He took a few steps into the room, smiling uncertainly. Livril, just as uneasy, nodded their head. 

Then Patton beamed.

“Don’t get your hopes up, mi amor,” Roman tossed a glance between the two (three?) of them. “They’re a whole handful.”

“I have! Two hands!!”

He seemed positively delighted at the opportunity to say that, as well as at the situation in general, completely oblivious to the hostility the room had been doused before he popped up. Or maybe it had all just evaporated thanks to Patton, anyway.

But still, Livril prickled under his attention, unsure what to say or do or avoid saying or doing.

“Um, I have- uh, four,” they tried for a joke, spreading their spindly fingers out on display.

Patton grinned somehow wider, jumping fully into the room and basically bouncing on the balls of his feet- almost like he’d never been tired in the first place. A little ball of energy (little compared to them, anyway). 

“Do you have a name? What should I call you?”

Livril tried to avoid curling back from him, not wanting to offend, and found that it wasn’t as hard as they’d thought it’d be.

“It’s Livril- my name, I mean- um, they/them.”

“Oh!” Patton’s eyes were, like, anime-levels of sparkly, “That’s so cool,” but if he was talking about their name or their gender, it wasn’t clear. Either way, the reaction was… endearing.

Livril tried to soothe themself with the assurance that they knew Patton- between the halves of themself, they knew everything about the guy! But a small, Virgil-ish part of their brain continued to insist that it didn’t matter, because he didn’t know them and it was entirely too possible that he wouldn’t like this mashup of his friends. And the part of their mind that was independent, the sum of them, was oddly terrified of that. 

“Thank you,” Livril muttered, ducking their head.

“So now they’ve got manners,” Janus sneered, oozing to the other side of the room and leaning beside Roman. Roman snickered. 

If Patton heard him, he didn’t acknowledge it. He scooched a little closer to Livril, and at the very least he was making an effort not to stare at them. Not a good effort, but an effort, despite his clearly growing fascination that made them want to squirm. 

“It’s- it’s nice to meet you, Patton.” 

“Isn’t that my line?” Patton tipped his head to the side, laughing, “You already know me!”

“Only kind of. Logan and Virgil know you- like, properly know you, but I only know about you. There’s a difference.”

The difference is how I’ll treat you, they didn’t say, the difference is how you’ll make me feel and what sort of a friend I can manage to be.

But… they hadn’t slipped up yet, and that must have been a good sign. 

Patton kept having to restrain himself from hopping on the balls of his feet, trying forcibly to smooth his expression into calmness. He was never good at restraint, having to bite his lips to stop a grin, still practically vibrating with energy. Was he-? He was, he was doing the Thing he always did when he got particularly proud of Logan or affectionate over Virgil, where he tugged his arms to his chest like he was making a straightjacket of himself. It was so deeply familiar, and that was a comfort. 

“I’d love to get to know you properly!” Patton chirped, “But, uh, I’m really hungry and breakfast is the most important meal of the day so I think I’m gonna- you can stay if you want! You can help- I’ll make us something.”

Yes, definitely, that was entirely Patton. The way all his sentences fell over each other, the clauses out of order, when he got particularly excited.

Livril smiled at him.  “I think that’d be, um, agreeable.”

Patton really couldn’t hold back a bounce at that, holding his hands together excitedly, before darting off to get started right on God-knew-what. He moved so quickly, and never were his frog-traits more obvious than when he was excited. 

Livril looked up to find that the twins were already arguing over the TV in the living room, Janus at the small table barely paying attention to them in favor of a disgustingly thick novel. He glanced occasionally towards the kitchen, smirking a little mischievously, and Livril knew that there was really no hope of escaping the situation, with all the possible distractions gone. 

Which maybe wasn’t a huge concern, now.

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” Patton asked, abruptly.

“Oh. Um,” Livril set down the cups of coffee in either of their hands, nudging the offending items behind them surreptitiously, “Nothing of substance, no.”

Patton’s eyes followed the movement, narrowing ridiculously, before he huffed in fond, familiar exasperation. 

“Lo- Virg- Livril, you cannot have coffee for breakfast! Honestly,” he shook his head, setting a few things out on the counter, “You’ll jitter out of your skin if you keep drinking that stuff.”

(“Fun!” Chimed Remus, from the other room.)

“That’s not how that works,” Livril said, crossing both pairs of arms. 

“How much have you had?” 

“Only two cups.”

“Only?”

“Fine, two and two-halves, which I guess amounts to three. Happy?”

“Three cups of-!” Patton glanced at the clock, looking exactly the part of a scandalized parent, “It’s not even ten!”

“I drink fast,” Livril practically whined, gesturing at their mouth. “Plus, bigger body means I can handle the extra caffeine, right?”

Patton sent them A Look. 

Livril rolled their eyes, but conceded the point. “Okay, okay, I’m getting rid of the rest, are you watching? And I’ll eat whatever you cook, are you satisfied?” 

Patton watched the cups vanish, a semi-amused, semi-stern look on his face, and he sighed. “You’re just like them, I swear.”

Livril hopped off the counter, ducking from the ceiling and standing hunched. They hovered by the stove, by Patton, self-consciously, and for the first time in their limited existence they felt a bit of a desire for… approval, almost.  

“Just like them how?”

Patton glanced over, surprised, before a fond and syrupy smile spread across his face.

“It’s nice, I mean. You’re silly and stubborn and it just reminds me that two of my boys are in there. But I know you’re your own you, and that’s good, too!” 

He accentuated the point by leaning forward, having to stand on his tiptoes to boop them gently on the nose. They blinked down at him, going briefly cross-eyed, but he was pulling back just as soon as he’d touched them. 

Livril stared numbly for a moment, processing. 

It was without a doubt the first time anyone else had touched them- without garnering a threat or a punch, anyway. 

But they hadn’t the slightest urge to be vicious with this one. Nor were they annoyed, like, at all. 

Well. Hm. 

“Patton,” Livril said, gently, “Would you maybe want to, I don’t know- eat together? We could get to know each other more, if you’d like.”

They saw a brilliant smile flare across his face as he turned back to the stove, barely smothered. “That sounds- I mean, I wouldn’t want to interrupt all your research. I hear it's very important that you figure yourself out, I don’t want you wasting your time just for my sake.”

And that made them a little annoyed, but certainly not at Patton’s expense. 

“This could be educational, you know- it’s got as big a potential for learning as anything else I would do. I mean, I really should know what I’m like interpersonally. With, um, friends, that is to say- which is a bit of a blindspot for me right now. And you’re, well… you know,” Livril felt a little flushed, a horribly odd sensation on their skin. “I’m just rambling. Sorry.”

Patton’s eyes sparkled like glitter, and Livril found that they absolutely had no reason to worry about being mean to him. Never would they be even capable of such a thing, they determined. Not with him.

“I’d love to hang out with you! Oh gosh, this is gonna be so much fun!”

Patton started a ramble of his own, which made Livril considerably less wary. It was hard to follow, the plans that he immediately began outlining as to what they could do together, and Livril found themself nodding mutely along and fighting down a smile despite Patton’s borderline incomprehensibility.

And when breakfast was finished, and Patton would grab their hands with his and lead them down the hall and up the stairs, they would duck their head because that smile refused to stay down. When Roman would swoop in, stealing Patton ever-so-briefly to shower him with abhorrent goodmorning PDA and toss a few scathing remarks at Livril, for once they found it within themself to not tear him a new one. 

Patton’s influence on them- now, that was something Livril was actually looking forward to learning about.

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#my writing #sanders sides #tss #WijjFusionAU #analogical #analogical fusion #platonic logicality #platonic moxiety #creativitwins #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #ts janus #ts roman #ts remus