#darkaleph

Regardless of Daz’s stance on the matter, leaving Innit trapped isn't an option.

For one, it's unimaginably inhumane. Innit clearly just wants to be able to do basic things. Its willing to be enchanted with loyalty to be able to do something as simple as look where it wants to and read books.

Daz and Innit being forced to stay together like that is a recipe for disaster, too. Innit can't get therapy when it doesn't have a voice, after all.

Plus its already proven willing to punish Daz. If it decided to go nuclear…what could they really do to stop it, bar putting Daz in a coma?

So, yeah. Innit deserves to be free, and Daz deserves to have his head to himself again.

…Even if that’s a bit hypocritical for Aster to want for him.

Their chosen gathering place is the Welcome Wagon. It's meant for discussions, there aren't currently any people in the rooms upstairs, and all four employees are a part of the meeting.

The first matter of business is to give Vio a brief rundown of Daz, the Council, and associated information.

Daz is the one who starts the main topic, and he does so by projecting a drawing of the Showrunner on the screen.

Raine’s style is immediately obvious, at least to Aster.

Deadly serious, Daz says, “This is the Showrunner. What we knew as the Scribe– that entity is someone else entirely. Their name was just…borrowed. Aster and I– we met the Showrunner.”

Aster adds, “Innit, too.” “Are you seriously still– this is fucking important!”

He snaps back, “Can you stop being petty for like five seconds? Its presence there was kind of a big deal! The Showrunner likes your admin half, asshole! We can't ignore that fact!”

Daz glares at him a moment, then turns to the others. “The bigger piece of info is that Time isn't real.”

Day, Vio, and Theo all look incredulous. “They’re very fuckin’ real, don't say shit like that,” Theo tells them. It’s a warning, because to Theo that kind of disrespect is liable to earn the wrath of a god.

Since Theo is not only a mythology buff but has met several gods…if anyone has reason to be twitchy about that sort of thing, it's him.

He is the that started the knock-on-wood trend of assuring Time that any potentially negative thing is said without any negativity, too.

“I'll humor this if you can explain who the fuck we've done– everything for. If you can't, I'm walking out right now,” Day warns. 

It’s clear he’s not kidding about that.

Aster takes a deep breath and says, “The Scribe, apparently. The Showrunner claimed that Time was just a ‘sockpuppet’ to be used as the Scribe needed.”

He grimaces. “Which, I mean…if the two of them are working together, and the Showrunner is the one behind the questions and Observers…”

Theo suddenly straightens up in a way that Aster realizes means he’s actually using his head. When he wants to, Theo can be smart…he just generally doesn’t bother to want that.

“Are you fuckin’ sure the one who was chatting with us was the Showrunner? Not the Observers, but the fuckin’-- the other shit. You two must know what I mean, yeah?”

Daz’s expression is grim. “There’s no doubt in my mind.”

A soft hiss escapes from Theo as he slumps backwards. He scrubs a hand down his face and looks to Day.

“They fuckin’-- first time we heard them, you remember what they said? We fuckin’ pointed out that Time would be pissed, n’--”

Realization visibly washes over Day as he finishes, “And they laughed. That we ‘weren’t supposed to know’, but it was still funny that we’d try to get Time involved.”

“Fuckin’ shit.”

That’s a sentiment that Aster can fully get behind. None of this is remotely fun to learn, and in fact radically alters what they assumed were core facets of their lives.

Lucid looks stricken. “What are we even supposed to do with this info, anyway?”

Rolling his eyes, Daz tells him, “You? Nothing. But given your position and how big of a deal this is, I can’t justify keeping you out of the loop.”

There’s a long beat, and then Daz adds, “And I wasn’t going to bring anyone else to the Council rooms. If it’s not a full secret from you, it’s pointless to shut you out.”

Aster sighs. “Yeahhhh. The Council HQ is kind of special to us.” “You’ve always hated how it looks,” Daz scoffs. Aster rolls his eyes and tells him, “Yeah, well, it’s grown on me. Kind of hard for it not to, with how much time I spend there.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Lucid mumbles.

Raine pats his shoulder and tells him, “You’ll get used to it. They fight constantly.”

“For fucked up reasons, apparently,” Khons reminds them.

“Do I want to–” “It’s literally none of your business,” Daz hisses at the admin.

Lucid shrinks down in his seat, hands raised defensively. “Okay, not asking then!”

Daz scrubs a hand through his hair as he swipes the screen to show the next image. “This is the Showrunner’s domain. I have no fucking idea how useful knowing this will be, but I’m not leaving something like that on the table.”

Aster studies the art piece for a moment. It’s very close to what he remembers– Daz’s memory and Raine’s skill are an excellent combo.

He says, “The seats seemed like they stretched forever. A few were occupied, but only two were clearly taken. The figures had different levels of definition and the Showrunner called them ‘representations of the audience’. I’m…guessing those are Observers.”

With a nod, Daz confirms, “If I had to make a theory…the more clear they are, the more frequently they show up.”

He reaches up and smacks a hand on one of the solid ones in what seemed like the VIP section.

“One of these two is probably the new one who’s been an asshole.”

Aster grimaces. “Speaking of Observers…” “There’s no need to bring up–”

Ignoring the bastard, Aster continues, “Innit needs to be given a body. Keeping it there goes beyond caution and into inhumane. It fucked up, yes, but– shit, didn’t all of us do that, too? Half of Sanctuary are war criminals in some capacity!”

Theo immediately argues, “It’d fuckin’ attack Lee, wouldn’t it?”

Aster shakes his head. “No. It– Theo, I spoke to it. I saw a– a timelapse of its entire life. Before the Observers came, the only people who knew about it were Dream and Daz. Both of them hurt it deeply.”

He gestures at Daz, continuing, “You’re asking a fully sentient and sapient person to be trapped with someone who tortured it for three years. Daz didn’t just ignore it, Theo– he shut it out entirely. He trapped it in a room and left it to rot.”

“It put me in a coma because I refused to kill a child,” Daz snaps. “A child it still hates!”

“I believe it wants freedom more than it wants revenge,” Aster argues.

Day’s arms fold across his chest. “How can we trust that? How can we trust it won’t try anything?”

Aster stares him in the eyes. “It said it would willingly be enchanted with loyalty, as long as I was the one it was bound to.”

The room is quiet.

“Day– you know how bad Daz’s enchantment was. The fact that it wants freedom so badly that it would be the one to suggest that…”

Daz tells them, “It couldn’t feel it. It’s never had any senses beyond sound and sight.”

Hands thrown wide for emphasis, Aster snaps, “And you think that isn’t fucking horrifying?! It wants to choose where to look, Daz! To be able to listen to the music it wants or eat or walk outside!”

Aster huffs at that.

“The reason I got on this topic is because Innit has at least three Observers it considers friends. I saw them as animals with a silvery-lavender swirly color–”

Vio sighs softly. “Same as the portals. No wonder you realized the connection.”

Sneering, Daz corrects, “No, this dipshit didn’t put the pieces together himself.”

Choosing to ignore that particular jab, Aster continues, “And, again; the Showrunner likes Innit. They sure as fuck don’t like Daz, but they– literally gave his admin half headpats. And squished its cheeks.”

He points out, “As cynical as it sounds? We have a person who the omnipotent ruler of time and reality is fond of. That same person is, as most of this room just heard–”

“I fuckin’ heard it too,” Theo tells him. “Fuckin’ Observers love it back. Enough to ask for it to be treated fuckin’ nice.”

Aster nods. “Either we have someone with all that weight behind them on our side, or we make an enemy out of all of them.”

“Innit wants to see Sanctuary burn,” Daz tries to tell them. “It fucking hates every single person here, and none more than Lee.”

Eyes narrowing, Aster argues, “Pretty sure it hates you the most, actually.” “Yeah, well– I’m used to dealing with it.” “It’s proven willing to make you suffer, and forgive me for not wanting to see what a full mental break looks like from you.”

Daz opens his mouth, but Aster cuts him off by turning back to the others. “One way or another, Innit will be freed. I haven’t just been seeing Daz’s past– I’ve been seeing the future, too. And Innit was sure as fuck walking around there!”

The bastard looks alarmed. “What? When the– why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!”

He folds his arms over his chest. “I didn’t exactly want to get into it.” “You know full goddamned well that’s not good enough. Answer the fucking question, Aster.”

Uhg, there’s no way he’ll let this go.

Reluctantly, he admits, “...At some point in the future, Daz and I get together. And, uh– I saw Innit at the wedding. It…handed Daz over to me, actually.”

Daz takes a deep breath, and guessing what he’ll say, Aster rolls his eyes and adds, “And Day handed me over to you, before you get pissy.”

“Excuse me?”

He shrugs helplessly at Day’s bafflement. “I desperately wish I were making it up. The idea of getting together with Daz, of all fucking people–” “Says the one who apparently gets fucked by me.” “Really? Really?”

Like a lightswitch, Daz flips his personality to a much warmer one. Unfortunately, Aster can tell the difference– there’s too much of an edge of malice in the way he smiles as he drapes his arms over his shoulders.

Cooing, Daz asks, “What’s the matter, baby? Worried you’ll think too hard about it here?”

He feels his face heat up despite himself. “First of all– I haven’t actually seen anything, just enough to know that– that happens. Second of all, get your hands off of me before I break your arms.”

Pouting at him, the fucking sociopath he apparently marries says, “But, Star…despite claiming you hate it, you’re getting all flustered.”

Aster gets a split-second flash of a warm giggle from Future-Daz of, “My sweet, snuggly Star!”

He grimaces. “I’m pretty sure I suffer a psychotic break to actually be interested in you.”

And he sees himself yet again, this time sitting in the Swords and Shields training hall. He’s next to Future-Theo, who seems like he’s really looking at Future-Aster for the first time in a long time. “...If it’s not too weird n’ personal, uh…how did you know? That you, y’know– fuckin’ liked him.”

Future-Aster seems to need a while to gather his thoughts. “Once I got closer to him, I started seeing all the things that were…really good. His quirks stopped being annoying and started being charming. I would get excited to come home, not because we did anything all that interesting but just because…I liked spending time with him.”

There’s a soft, fond smile as Future-Aster absently runs a thumb over what looks disturbingly like a bite mark on his shoulder. “I don’t really even remember what it’s like not to love him. He’s…he’s everything to me. The world feels brighter and happier now that I wake up next to him every morning.”

Future-Theo opens his mouth, but is interrupted by Future-Daz coming into the room.

The moment he clocks Aster’s lack of a shirt– which is how he usually works out, it’s annoying to have them get soaked with sweat– Future-Daz turns bright pink and demands, “Star, why are you– where is your shirt?!

Instead of a normal, reasonable answer, Future-Aster just grins and leans back. “I forgot you bit me, sorry.” “You don’t look sorry at all.” “And you don’t like you hate seeing me like this, soooo–”

Future-Daz huffs, hands going to his hips. “You’re– you’re the worst.” “Mm-hmm.” “Awful. Just, just terrible.” “Indeed.” “A jerk who likes making fun of me and making me embarrassed.”

Future-Aster reaches out and tugs his significant other into his lap. “And yet you still like me.”

Despite another, somewhat sullen huff, Future-Daz doesn’t argue that point.

When Aster is back in the present, Daz is staring intently at him. That faux-flirting is gone, though he’s still got his arms over his shoulders. “What did you see?”

Though he could answer this in a dozen ways, he chooses the pettiest he can think of. “You being easily embarrassed and down bad for me.”

Ignoring the way Daz splutters, he shoves his arms off and turns to face the others again. “Anyway. It doesn’t actually matter if you agree or not. Either you cooperate, or I use the wish I’ve earned via seeing Daz’s bullshit and grant it a body myself.”

Lee finally speaks up. “Ignoring all of– that? I think we should do it. It’s fucked up to keep it locked up like that. If I’m the one supposedly in danger, I should be the one to decide if it’s worth it or not. I think it is. Innit doesn’t have to like me– the server is plenty big for both of us.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Aster smiles fondly at his charge.

Then Lee continues, “And I don’t think it’s fair to make it be enchanted, too. It sets a really nasty precedent and would erode trust in not just Lucid, but everyone who had a part in that. Myself included.”

It’s an extremely good point. Aster nods, brow furrowed. “It– the idea of doing that makes me really uncomfortable.”

He gestures at Theo, who seems unsure. “You’ve got oceans of blood on your hands. I don’t think Innit was right, but I think it felt it was justified.”

“Lee was fuckin’ six,” Theo tells him. “It felt a baby admin, one who could control them because he’s a Dream. Unlike with Day and Lucid, who Daz did not trust–”

“Wait, you didn’t trust us? Then why did you let us undo the loyalty? Especially if you knew about code already,” Lucid interrupts.

Daz, visibly annoyed, snaps, “We could track your coding. If you had done anything we didn’t like, I’d have ruined you.”

Despite the admin’s doubt, Lee nods. “He can do that. He’ll correct my work when I’m not even showing him my console and when I didn’t even think he was paying attention. It’s freaky.”

That little side path resolved, Aster continues, “Daz was way less willing to hurt Lee. Innit, freshly betrayed, deeply traumatized, and desperate to die, went on high alert because it saw Lee as a threat.”

Theo repeats, “He was six!”

Aster responds, “And when Daz was six, he decided to rip out the parts of him that were ‘bad and wrong’ because his brother is a fucking monster. Again, I’m not saying Innit was right! It was a fucked up thing to do! But it was also a trauma response. For trauma that has only festered in the meantime, because unlike Daz, Innit has been alone.”

As much as he hates to do this, he appeals to the one who will hold ultimate authority in this matter.

“You know damn fucking well what isolation does to a person. You’re debating condemning someone to a fate very literally worse than death because you don’t like that they fucked up. Let me remind you that you fucked up pretty damn bad, too. And, again– if all of you refuse, I’ll use the wish on this. Having the memories of its life in my head is bad enough, but knowing I’ve abandoned someone in those conditions…I’d never be able to live with myself.”

He can tell Daz is seething, but for once he doesn’t care.

The bastard is wrong about this. Whatever punishment Innit may have deserved– what its gotten has far outstripped that.

Vio says, “Aster has a point. I know this is a touchy matter, but leaving Innit in there…that’s not acceptable. Not only would we incur the wrath of the Observers and likely the Showrunner, but we have no guarantee that it wouldn’t find another way to escape. We can extend a hand, or risk Innit being free with no reason not to raze the server to the ground.”

Day scrubs a hand down his face, which has a sour expression. “...If we’re doing this, its getting put into therapy with Iatros, too. And I want it nowhere near Summer Hills.”

There’s a sudden, bitter laugh from Daz. “Oh, wow. That’s actually– actually an interesting idea.”

The bastard grips his shoulder with more force than Aster was aware he was capable of.

“It proposes that it could live with Aster. If its so fucking attached to him, and Aster is so goddamned determined to go forward with this stupid fucking plan– surely he can open his shitty little house to that thing, huh?”

He considers where would even work. “I– there’s literally nowhere for it to go. I’m willing to have an extension or something, I guess?”

Daz’s fingers dig into his shoulder. Voice a low, dangerous hiss, he warns, “If you can’t keep it in line, I’ll personally make your life a living hell.”

A shudder goes down his spine. Daz’s wrath is not a small thing, as proven by him killing his ex-mentor in cold blood and destroying him the worst way he could.

“And you should try group counseling with it. Maybe you’ll be less of a fucking sociopath when you learn to at least tolerate a fundamental part of you.”

Flippantly, and forcibly removing Daz’s hand from his shoulder, he adds, “If you want to do the whole song and dance about me getting on your good side? Maybe be less of an insufferable bastard, first. Your trauma is valid but your responses to it sure as fuck aren’t.”

Getting into his space, he growls, “I should be at your throat for the fact that you’ve spent three fucking years conditioning me to hate you. I should be furious you’ve actively abused my trauma to make sure you never had to deal with yours! You’ve refused to actually let yourself heal because you’re a coward, Daz.”

Daz’s eyes thin into slits as he snaps back, “I don’t need your preaching, considering you–” “I’ve fucking told you, I had no idea it would be like this! I also, shockingly, didn’t realize exactly how broken you actually are! I was sure you’d hate me for not taking the offer. It’s a wish that can bend the laws of reality, and I thought you would be mature enough to recognize that even though it sucks to have someone know more than you wanted…that you’d agree it’s worth it.”

He takes a step back and scoffs, “Fuck, at times like these, I can see why the Showrunner hates you. You’re a selfish asshole who only seems to do good things when it’s convenient for you.”

As he turns on his heel and stalks out, he finishes off with, “Lately, I wonder if I was right to take your hand at all.”

Aster knows he’ll regret those words later, in one form or another.

But he’s also sick and tired of Daz kicking him in the dick because he’s pissed that he’s lost control.

At no point did Aster ask for any of this! He hates having to be the one to drag Daz kicking and screaming into a better place! He hates seeing his past and the trauma that have shaped him into the paranoid bastard that he is today!

A lot of the time, he kind of hates seeing the future, too. It only makes their current relationship feel worse, because Aster can see that Daz is capable of being good to him.

Even something as simple as the two of them watching a movie together feels so fucking bittersweet, because it’s clear they do eventually come to love each other.

Yet, right now, Daz hates him. Whatever his actual feelings before, right now they’re at the lowest they’ve ever been.

…There aren’t many times that Aster has seriously considered the benefits of getting drunk. The idea of losing control of himself gives him hives.

But, honestly, the chance of shutting off his own heavily leashed anger and resentment for the night sounds amazing.

Aleph squints up at the ceiling. “Uhh…I mean, me and Khons are pretty affectionate, but…”

Aster frowns ever so faintly. “Other than them, not really. Not that I know of.”

There’s a nod from Raine. “Daz is touchy-feely when he’s acting, but in private…not so much. Freezes when he gets a hug, pretty much. Ignoring his boundaries is a one-way trip to a psych ward, so…yeah, I don’t really want to press him on that.”

“Fuck even knows what half his boundaries are, though,” Aster mutters, looking like he’s eating a lemon.

Raine grimaces, not quite willing to nod in agreement but not entirely unaware of how prickly Daz can be.

Instead of saying that, though, he confirms, “Yes, I hear the emojis, somehow, and I want to unhear them.”

Aleph squints at the air, visibly confused by the question. "...Are you askin' if we bathe?"

Khons tugs a lock of the dense, curly, metallic-looking golden wool that forms his hair so that he can inspect it. He makes a face and says, "...I can't 'just run a brush' through this. That's not how any wool works, and mine is– extra finicky. And 'Leph doesn't even have fur, he has bristles."

"Wool isn’t fur either,” Aleph notes. Khons sighs, “That’s not the point.”

Daz emerges from a hidden trapdoor just in time to see everyone’s reactions to that question.

Aster wordlessly lifts up a small charm on his com made from melted discs in the shape of a comet; Aleph and Khons withdrawing small stuffed golden sheep and black-and-gold pig keychains, respectively, and Raine looking even more puzzled.

His closest friend lifts up his lightning bolt-shaped pendant, from which some shimmering clear crystals dangle. “Yeah, this is our duo item. What about it?”

“Oh, they’re here too! Great, wonderful, spectacular,” Daz says, the hint of mania in his voice catching the others off guard. Raine leans forward in his seat. “You know this one?”

“Seems like they hate me, given they deliberately tried to trigger me about the reason we’re all gathered here today.” Daz slumps into his seat, looking every bit as exhausted as he feels.

Khons reaches over and pats his arm. “Yeahhhh, some of them are…” “Mhm,” Daz grunts, taking only a moment to gather himself.

Then he straightens up and declares, “We’re conducting official business. That means, according to the deal, you have to go.”

The screen abruptly shuts off then, the contents of the meeting kept a secret.

…It may have been the wrong move to immediately agree and say that San deserves someone competent and capable, not whatever you wanted to call what Lucid is.

Anyway.

Day is interrupted from the music on his com and the steady, rhythmic progress of his new worst creation by an image popping up between his face and the garish monstrosity.

It takes him only a few moments to realize what he’s seeing. He narrows his eyes, pauses his music, and says flatly, “That’s not funny.”

This statement causes a half dozen more images of sand to pop up.

The substance is up there with some of the literal worst ones he knows of. Lava? Hazardous, occasionally triggers violent flashbacks, but largely acceptable. Obsidian? Sometimes will catapult him into a catatonic state, but useful. Raw potatoes? Will make him scrub his hands until they bleed, which does the opposite of help his mental state. Eldritch goop? Treated with extreme caution because it made Theo’s eyes turn solid black for a good ten minutes when he curiously poked at it.

But sand?

Sand is the bane of his existence. Any kind feelings he had towards sand died first in the prison, then a second time when he realized he has the memories of Philza fucking Minecraft (the most boring man alive) slowly and laboriously draining not just fourteen ocean monuments, but a dozen chunks’ worth of nearly all the lava in the Prime-damned nether with sand.

And then, finally, fatally, a third time when he had to stop Orph from trying to eat sand in their first home. And then Dee kept encouraging it, largely by distracting Day via trying to do it too.

He still doesn’t know if they both just decided that this, THIS was the ideal way to test his patience, or if they genuinely enjoyed it. The memory of Orph’s long, melodramatic rants on the subject still make him shudder hard enough that his wings will poof up. And then, of course, Dee would join in, and egg him on.

It’s coarse, it’s an irritant, it gets everywhere, it’s heavily tied to some of the worst parts of his life. He has made it a point to make one of his kids deal with smelting the stuff for glass for over a decade, and pointedly rejected the idea of having glass in most of the ‘windows’ of his own home.

Sure, part of that was so he and his kids could more easily enter and exit in an emergency…but it was also partly to do with not wanting to deal with the amount of sand it would take to fill those openings.

“I will find you and break every single one of your bones, in alphabetical order,” Day hisses, feathers fluffing up with anger.

Another dozen popups appear, and he gets to his feet, throwing his project on the ground in frustration. “Why?! What brought this on?! Are you sadistic assholes just enjoying my suffering?! Is this funny to you?!”

He’s interrupted from screaming at the ceiling by a wary, “...Uh? You okay, there?”

He snaps his head towards the sound of the voice, and sees the rather confused-looking Aleph and Khons staring at him.

They both seem worried, too, which Day would be more concerned about if he wasn’t dealing with otherworldly entities needling him for apparent funsies.

“Question askers are being assholes,” he says, making a noise of frustration as more popups appear. “If you’re looking for Theo, he should be out in his studio with–” He cuts himself off, slamming his eyes shut and taking a long, pointed inhale.

He is calm. He is very, very calm, and not about to start figuring out which god he can drag down from the sky and slaughter like the worthless dog they are for this active transgression against his patience, sanity, and most importantly, peace.

Through gritted teeth, he tells them, “With Perce. They’re working on something. If they’re not there, check Dee’s workshop.” His second eldest–actually, all of his kids–have various ways of using the multiple versions of the internet they can access to their fullest extent.

That is to say, they troll people with them.

Each of them has a unique niche of chaos they inflict on unsuspecting people. Perce will edit together well over a dozen versions of a movie or show, use memes that don’t exist and don’t make sense, and otherwise use and abuse his nerdery to make people absolutely furious.

Theo argues with people about folklore, myths, and legends, often cited and sourced with information from other worlds. He can and will post full essays about historical context for a myth that doesn’t exist using sources that are from a dozen other realities.

Orph will release songs or versions of songs specifically to piss off a world’s version of Wilbur, if he’s a musician. There have been multiple occasions where he’s tricked other realities into believing that there’s a new album or single coming out.

Atlas is, somewhat hilariously, the most low-key troll. His post histories in rock, mineral, gem, and bead groups are storied and often entirely genuine…and then he’ll pull some absolute nonsense out of left field. His favorite is arguing with Theo about carved versions of various myths, often poking holes into his points…by using data and a different version of the myth.

Lee, bless his tiny, golden heart, likes to give other realities media they wouldn’t otherwise get. Games that were canceled, movies shut down, projects that otherwise failed to see the light of day; any and all of them are liable to be offered up to others. He does, however, refuse to explain where or who he gets it from. His favorite phrase is ‘I’ve been advised not to disclose that, for the safety of others.’

And then there’s Dee. Easily the most chaotic of them, his method is to do livestreams. Has amassed a following on well over a dozen worlds’ internet, always showcasing some sort of impossible, improbable thing that can’t possibly exist in those worlds. And yet, he makes a point to react to the chat, donations, and other ways that make it clear it’s not prerecorded footage.

He can, has, and will, talk at length about redstone, and the second someone asks about redstone, he gives an entirely too-sincere confused look. “...Redstone? That sounds like a band. Oh, wait, do you mean my wall? Yeah, that’s red sandstone, good eye!”

Questions about Minecraft are met with similar confusion, though more pronounced. “I don’t actually know what you’re talking about. Is that a new show? Is it any good?” And then he’ll put a shulker down sideways on a wall, open it, dig something out, and set it down.

It’s gotten to the point where if his brothers know he’s streaming, they’ll go in and bug him. Sometimes it’s Orph, there to deliver a melodramatic rant. Sometimes it’s Lee, sitting with him and trying to follow his ramblings to glean insight into the mystery that is technology or just be an extra pair of hands.

And, sometimes, it’s Day himself.

Is it maybe a little mean-spirited that he thinks it’s funny? Yeah, probably. But considering he had to deal with some sort of issue in that world for it to be connected to Sanctuary…he thinks he can be forgiven for thinking it’s hilarious when nobody can tell if he and Perce are the same person. There have only been a handful of times anyone guessed–usually very sarcastically–that he’s the dad.

Day answers them the same way; a direct message that says ‘you were right.’ And as soon as they replied, he’d tell them, ‘I’m the dad on Dee’s streams. And nobody will believe you.’ And then he blocked them.

No further attempts to contact him are answered from that world. In fact, half the time he isn’t even so much as a regular in Dee’s chats.

But right now, Dee’s chaos–and Day’s habit of making it even more chaotic–aren’t the focus. Day is too busy trying to deal with the wall of floating images of sand literally encircling him. Moving doesn’t help, because they follow. Turning his head doesn’t help, because they’re forming a half-transparent wall around him. Cursing the gods isn’t helping, because they seem to be actively enjoying his misery.

“...Did they ask something rude, or…” Khons’ wary question is answered by Day telling the literally golden-wooled sheep hybrid, “They’re showing me sand.” He can feel the further confusion that causes, so he adds, “I hate sand. Sand is a fucking awful substance. I feel to sand as Vio does to snow. That being that it should stop existing.”

He’s sure he sounds absolutely insane, but frankly, until someone has well over a literal week’s worth of memories just of tedious, mind-numbing sand placement, then they don’t get to judge him.

“...Do you want us to get someone? Maybe call Vio, so you can commiserate about how much you hate a part of nature? And possibly work out some aggression?” Aleph’s offer makes Day’s eyes narrow slightly in thought. But, in the end, it’s not a terrible idea.

“I’ll call him. Thank you, though. Is there something else I can help–mother FUCKER that’s just a dick move, it’s not my fault someone gave a fictional character the same issues as me, but it’s NOT the same and it’s NOT fictional–” What starts as an attempt to get his anger control abruptly goes sideways as a clip of the infamous Sand Rant starts playing.

He pauses and amends, “...At least, not entirely.” “It’s still amazing how you’ve managed to weaponize being a borderline sociopath,” Raine says, earning a loud bark of laughter. “I can weaponize anything. Give me enough time and I’ll weaponize the fucking air–”

“That one isn’t hard; just make it so nobody can breathe. Get a better example, Gilt.” Aleph’s monotone interruption makes the other roll his eyes. “Fine, then. I’ve learned to weaponize the perception of Tommys, especially Protege Tommys. Is that fucking better, your highness?”

The piglin hybrid smiles a little. “Yes, yes it is.” “Don’t antagonize him, ‘Leph. He’s just gonna get even more surly than usual,” Khons says quietly, though even that makes Daz bristle. “I don’t need coddling–” “I didn’t say you did. I was implying that you’re on edge because this is beyond anything you could have possibly planned for and you need your alarmingly thorough plans,” the sheep hybrid cuts him off. “I’m sure if you saw your therapist properly, he could spend weeks unpacking just that part of you.”

Daz narrows his eyes at the mask. “I’m sure he would, yeah.” He shifts his attention to the wall, huffing a little. “I have no idea where you got the idea that there’s other shadowy councils instead of, you know, putting two and two together when I literally called myself the hidden point–”

“It’s not that big of a leap of logic,” Aster says, earning a withering look, “I know you’re trying to regain control however you can, but maybe don’t be quite this big of an asshole.” “Consider going and fucking yourself, Aster! I know you play at being the leader to everyone else, but in here you’re not special!”

The far more heavily scarred Tommy leans forward, voice dropping a bit. “I never asked for that role and you fucking know that.” Daz leans forward as well, eyes thinning and a slow grin starting to form. “Maybe not, but you sure seem to be suited for it. Funny, I’d almost think that you were the–”

“Both of you, shut up.”

They look over to Raine, who has been watching them bicker with increasing unease. “Daz, are you going to explain the other thing you were told?”

It almost seems like Daz is disappointed when Aster settles himself fully back in his chair. “There’s more?” Khons sounds concerned, though his body language relaxes slightly when Aleph places a hand on his shoulder.

Daz’s attention flicks between the three of them and he sighs. “We were told that in some timelines, I’m not the only actor. My death is apparently a harbinger of the death of everyone. The Council should be notified in such an event in a way outside of the com system.”

Instead his expression is blank to a rather creepy degree and he has a hand of cards. Seated around a table with him are the rest of the Council, who all have poker faces of their own. That’s fitting, because they seem to be playing said game—and by the looks of things, Daz has been winning. Not by much—the rest of them have decently sized piles, too. The smallest of them belongs to Aleph.

There’s only a slight raise of Raine’s eyebrows when he feels the strange sensation of the Observers starting to watch them. “I guess we all get to hear all of the questions directed at any Council member,” he says, earning a soft hum of agreement from Khons. It sounds a little odd because he has his mask on, which feels just a tiny bit like cheating. Then again, he was squarely in the middle as far as winnings went.

“Music,” Daz starts, expression still eerily blank, “Is...a bit weird, for me. If you know about me then you already know I don’t really care about Cat or Mellohi. Those are...relics. Relics of a life I’ve discarded twice over. No, now the music I like is more...mmm. It’s less specific songs and more a specific artist. Orpheus does wonderful work and has become a good friend because of my interest in his music. Not quite as much so as these chucklefucks--” he gestures at the rest of the Council, earning a soft scoff from Raine and a middle finger from Aster, “but moreso than most others. I don’t like them all equally and I don’t like all of them...but overall, I enjoy most of his original pieces and his covers. There’s a flair to them that clicks with me, especially now that I know a decent amount about what his influences are.”

“Make your move. Some of us have places to be.” Khons’ request is quiet, but still heard plenty well enough. Daz grins slightly at it. He gathers his cards and tosses them in the middle. “Fine, fine. I’m folding. Happy?” “Very. Feel free to continue waxing poetic about music,” Khons replies, sounding slightly amused.

“I planned on it. So, while Orph is unquestionably my favorite artist...I’m in the very unique position of having access to a massive library drawing from several realities. I have a bit of an eclectic taste and what I feel a draw to listen to depends on my mood,” Daz continues.

Raine rolls his eyes a little. “I know when he’s brooding because he puts on what I can best describe as opera but metal. It’s his brooding music. I fold too, by the way.” He pushes his own cards forward and then leans back a little. He gets shot a glare by Daz, who sounds indignant. “Go to hell, Raine, I do not brood.” “You definitely do, actually--” Aleph’s answer is cut off by Daz barreling on like he said nothing, “I plot. If someone pissed me off, they will regret that.”

It seems like Raine is enjoying this, if nothing else, because he continues, “I know when something good happened because he puts on pop music--” “Why are you telling them this?!” “--Spite and having fun seeing you show emotions. His sulking music is that sort of rock-alt emo stuff. Then you have the really bouncy stuff with a solid beat—that’s what he puts on when he goes and actually trains. He insists it helps him focus. I’m pretty sure it’s more that he enjoys seeing us be baffled as to what new song he put on the playlist.”

“I raise. Gotta admit,” Aster says, ignoring the righteous fury Daz is directing at Raine, “it does throw you off your game when it switches from an angry breakup song to something about going out to party and getting laid. It’s the worst kind of gamble because there’s no way to win. There are only degrees of losing. Much like anything with Daz--” “Why are you all being assholes?! I’ve done nothing to deserve this treatment--” The protest is met by four loud laughs.

“If you’re going to lie to the Observers,” Khons gasps between wheezes, “at least do it believably!” “You’re all horrible co-workers and I regret gathering you all together,” Daz scoffs, though he doesn’t really seem all that pissed off. More annoyed than anything else.

“Raise. You’re popular today,” Aleph says, that usual Techno monotone holding just a bit of amusement. Daz makes a face, though seems a little displeased by the question. “Dual daggers. We all have armor and weapons from Dee, though we’re not unique in that. There are a decent amount of people who are close with his family who he’s made stuff for. Armor is rarer than weapons because...what was the reason again, Raine?”

“His perfectionist tendencies. If he’s going to do it he’s going to do it right. There’s a lot that goes into making armor perfect for a person—at least, armor that’s been smithed rather than crafted. Weapons are easier, though he doesn’t do those that much more,” Raine answers. Daz leans back in his seat, watching the rest of the table like a hawk. “My style is fast. My favorite game...mm. Again, that depends on my mood. I have a lot of them that I like.” His attention flicks over to Khons, who pushes his cards inwards. “Fold. I’m the one he usually plays those games against. It’s fun, even if he’s insufferable when he wins.”

“You’re just as much so,” Daz says with a shrug. “Call. Also, nah. It’s just satisfying to see you get beat at your own game,” Aleph retorts. Aster sighs as he flips his cards over. “You probably win this one,” he mutters, looking unsurprised when he does, indeed, lose the hand.

Aleph smiles as he pulls the pot to his pile. He’s ahead of Daz now, though that doesn’t seem to bother him much. He rolls his eyes a little as he tells Aleph, “You would excuse anything Khons did. He could kick a three legged puppy and you’d say that the puppy probably deserved it.”

“Well,” the Techno says, eyebrows raising a tiny bit, “considering he’d never normally do that...he would have an explanation.” Khons laughs softly, bumping his shoulder. With a scoff Daz retorts, “That’s my point. He can do no wrong in your eyes—” Aleph cuts him off, eyebrows raising a bit more. “And for good reason. He knows me and I know him. Even if he didn’t have one, I’d still stand by him.”

Khons, despite his mask, is visibly pleased. He leans some of his weight against his friend and says, “Same here. He’s my person. I trust him more than anyone else, including myself.”

The rest of the table bursts into laughter that only grows louder at Daz’s clear confusion. “What the actual fuck are you talking about.” It’s not really a question, more just a statement of bafflement and quite possibly wondering if the asker is sane or not.

“But Daz,” Aster gasps between laughs, “do you have one?” Daz makes a noise of frustration as he says, “I don’t know! What the fuck is an ant brush?!” “Clearly something important,” Raine wheezes out, slumped over on the table from how hard he’s laughing. He manages to compose himself long enough to say, “Oh, that’s—thank you, whichever one of you asked that! He’s going to spend days staring at everything that might possibly be called a brush and wondering if that’s an ant brush. This is the best gift you could have given me.”

Daz glares at him, arms folding over his chest unhappily. “I’m feeling targeted. The rest of you answer the next ones too, or else--”

The threat is cut off by the question, and Daz grins. “I demand everyone else answer first.” “’Leph for both,” Khons says instantly, getting a nod from Aleph. “Moony for me, also both.” “We all get along pretty well—the occasional petty bickering aside,” Aster starts, “But...Raine for talking to, but working with really depends on the task. Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses.” “I’m close with Aster and Daz, though Khons and Aleph are good friends too. We all have things we do together outside of Council-related work. Partly so that Daz doesn’t lose his mind from the stress of keeping up his batshit web of lies and manipulation.”

“It's not as bad as you’d think,” Daz says, tilting his chair back a little, “it’s fun to keep it up. People are puzzles and talking to them is a game.” This is met by amusement from the rest of them. Aster grins a little and says, “That’s our borderline sociopathic jackass for you. Alright, we answered, your turn.”

Daz makes a soft noise of thought, visibly thinking. “...I get along, for a given value of such, with all of them. Aster the least so, because he’s a prick sometimes--” he pointedly ignores the middle finger he’s given by said alternate version of himself, “--then probably Aleph, then Khons, then Raine. Despite his prick tendencies, Aster is right—working with really depends on the task. For instance, I wouldn’t want Raine to be at my side if I’m trying to beat a problem best solved by brute force. If I need something done without drawing too much attention, Aster is a shit choice—too much focus is on him wherever he goes because of the perception and vague role he has as the public head of the Swords and Shields.”

The rest of them seem entirely unsurprised by the response. Daz gives a slightly sharp grin and adds, “I could rattle off cases where each of them is the best to work with, but why would I go and do that?”

All the good humor among the group vanishes in an instant, especially from the two who were asked the question. Daz turns icy, while Aster has a familiar spark of Tommy anger in his eyes. Even Raine looks pissed.

The ones who look least distressed are Khons and Aleph. It’s not that they’re without anger, it’s more that they have a carefully detached way of showing it. Aleph slowly says, “...We weren’t paying attention to their identities. They didn’t and don’t matter.” Khons says nothing, but there’s a tiny shiver that makes Aleph press against his side protectively.

There’s an edge of dark anger to the frigid tone Daz has. “Leave. You’ll get no more answers, not while you’ve made them feel unsafe.”

Whatever subject was touched on is clearly still raw, and the defensiveness from the rest of them underscores the point that was made—that they’re close, despite any disagreements or bickering. It also underscores that Daz is more than willing to find and use loopholes left in the deal he made.

That could go both ways, though. It’s not out of the question that there are loopholes that favor Observers that could be used in the same way.

Theo, Perce, and Lee are once again in the arena, though they’re joined by three of the Council members–Aster, Aleph, and Khons.

Lee sits attentively in the stands with Khons and Perce, attention zeroed in on the other three. They're having some sort of three-way spar and it's...fast. Very, very fast; so fast it's easy to miss the identical, feral grins that Theo and Aster have. Aleph doesn't seem as blatantly enthused, nor quite as speedy, but seems to be enjoying himself and holding his own just fine.

Especially when Theo falters for a fraction of a second and gets a sword through his chest for it.

Almost immediately he starts shouting, darting back into the arena from the respawn room. "That didn't fuckin' count! Interference!" The other two disengage, glance at each other, and then over to Theo. "...Are you sure you aren't just being a sore loser? There wasn't anything that I saw," The piglin hybrid's mostly monotone voice carries a bit of amusement, even if he knows damn well what's going on. All of the Council members do, actually.

Observers are present and almost certainly have asked something.

Theo scowls at him. "Fuckin' question popped up! S' still weird as shit!"

Aster, still catching his breath, squints at him. "...How is it any different from the Fates? Isn't it just one more voice?" The warrior rolls his eyes, flopping down near his brothers in the stands. "No, n’ it's hard to explain why it's not the same," he grumbles, “It just is.” Aleph and Aster both take seats nearby, since there wasn't much point in continuing without him. They had plenty of time to spar just the two of them.

Perce speaks up from his place next to Khons. "As funny as it would be if Theo was just making excuses for fucking up," he says, ignoring the indignant squawk from said brother, "I got it, too. I'm sort of surprised, though–and a little confused about how much they all know. Theo and Dad are the ones in the family who travel a lot--the rest of us only occasionally go elsewhere. For me, it's less of a 'kind' and more a specific one. I like visiting my original world. It's nice meeting up with my friends and seeing how things have been. I don’t regret moving here, but...I still miss them sometimes."

Lee grins, elbowing him. "I was too adorable to not move here for, right?" Perce laughs, reaching over to ruffle his younger brother's hair. "Of course. You'll only be tiny for so long. Plus I thought it would be good to give the rest of them more space. I'm not even the admin any more--and before I get asked, I was...different, from how Dad and Dream Prime. I just kept things running smoothly, no world-talking or link to it like they have. Had, in Dad’s case. From what everyone back on my original world has told me, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo are doing a great job. I figured they would–wouldn’t have given them control otherwise– but…it’s still nice to be proven right."

There's a grin from the eldest brother at that. He extends a fist towards Aster as he says, "Tommys are just fuckin' pog like that." The Sword bumps his fist back, smiling a little. "We're pretty capable, given the right motivation."

"Best world is Opinionated Ranboo's. Cookie Dream n’ the rest of the cookie team are awesome! Even Ranboo is funny, if a little...likely to give me a headache. The cookies are worth it though! Nothing beats getting one right out of the oven," Lee declares, earning a few smiles. "Capitalist Tommy is another very pog one of us,” Theo comments, “Pretty fuckin’ sure we’d end up signing our souls over if he, Tommy Prime, n’ Caper ever went into business together. We’re just real fuckin’ lucky that Capitalist Tommy is more focused on his own world.”

Khons adds mildly, “And that Caper is more focused on the Prank Guild. Most Tommys are…pretty scary, when they want to be.” Really, though, Khons had his own opinion of who the most terrifying Tommy was. It took a special kind of person to quietly create an entire organization with a secret council at the helm, hide all evidence of said council’s existence from someone who could be shown anything that happened in the world and seamlessly lie to countless people for three years. It took an even more special person to do that for the defense of an admittedly already very safe child, and to then thrive on the deception.

There were a lot of things about Daz that were baffling. Most of them tied back to whatever the hell his original world had been like. A lot of the details of that were withheld even from the other Council members. Though, to be fair, the rest of them weren't exactly open books about their own first worlds either.

“And you, Theo? Favorite kind of world?” It only takes a few moments after Perce looks to his eldest brother before the answer comes. “Probably peaceful-weird ones. Y’know, where shit’s fuckin’ strange but there’s not any real danger. Or, if there is, s’ more like we need to bring people back ‘cause the world is fucked, but not in an insta-death way. More like, uh…there was one with fuckin’--Dream on a little island, n’ the world had flooded, right? But he refused to go unless his friend–fuckin’ merman Quackity, which was wild for a few fuckin’ reasons–could go with him. S’ you might be able to guess, was sorta hard to bring a person who doesn’t have legs n’ can’t breathe air through a portal with us!”

Perce’s eyes narrow slightly. “...Wasn’t that the one where Vio reverse engineered a water breathing potion out of spite? Even though he has basically a magic allergy?” Theo laughs cheerfully, “Yeah! Fucker scared the shit out of the two we were fuckin’ there to help, ‘cause he flat out didn’t sleep for about four days. Dream asked at one point what was up with him, and Dad fuckin’ said that Vio has a personal grudge against water. Fucker then shouted back that water had a personal grudge against him, n’ I think I laughed so hard I blacked out for a few seconds.”

“Sounds about right,” Aleph says, smiling faintly. “He was…interesting. In the world Moons and I came from, he decided to leave a message for the group we were running from that time.” Khons has stilled, an uneasy expression on his face. Aleph carefully leans against him ever so slightly, a gentle reminder of his presence. Theo watches them for a moment, then says helpfully, “So, yeah–that kind of place. Or just…ones without all the real fucked up shit. I’m real fuckin’ sick of finding another fuckin’ Protege Tommy world. No offense, Aster, but–”

A shrug meets the apology. Aster says mildly, “None taken. It’s depressing to see how common they are, anyway. Granted, a lot of them do end up in the Swords and Shields because…well. Lee is a sweet kid and one of the least threatening Dreams we have.” He looks at the kid in question, whose smile falters a bit. “...Would be nice if nobody was hurt at all, but…if they end up here, bad stuff happened to them or their world. I didn’t really…deal with any of that. Or, at least–I don’t remember it. I’ve gotten a lot of kindness from everyone here. It’s sort of…the least I can do, to try to make the really messed up people feel a little safer.”

One hand goes to touch the brooch worn over his heart. “...I just want everyone to be safe and happy. They deserve that much.” The quiet words linger for only a moment, and then he feels a hand settle gently on his head. When he looks up, Aster is smiling softly at him. “You’ve got a big heart. It’s what made all of us decide to stick by your side–we don’t want you to stop being that kind.”

The sheer weight of that draws a tiny frown from Lee. “I know, I know. It’s…” he trails off, struggling to put the feeling into words. After a few moments Khons gently offers, “It feels like you’re being given too much, right? Like you haven’t done enough to earn that sort of loyalty?” Lee nods a little. “Mhm. That’s how we all felt, you know. What had we done, to make us worthy of being taken back here? What had we done, to merit the kindness and empathy we’d been given? What made it okay for us to finally be safe?”

The rhetorical questions make Lee look a little offended. Feathers puffing in outrage, he protests, “Nobody has to earn–” “We know that, now. But at first…it’s hard to believe that. It’s easier to accept flower crowns and scrawled drawings and disarmingly sweet compliments from a little kid than it is to believe that the world really is safe. ‘Leph and I would probably never have gotten as involved in things if you hadn’t opened that door. It might not have been your intention to start anything bigger…but you did. We’re glad for it.”

Aleph inclines his head a little. “All of the Swords and Shields are behind you because of that. You didn’t say anything about Khons’ wool or my fur–you just said that his eyes are kind and that I looked like a good friend. It’s still not what we’re used to; a lot of new people will make comments about what we look like.”

Silence falls over them for a few moments, Lee clearly considering all of it. “...Okay,” he says with quiet reluctance. “Baby brother, just accept that you’re pog. S’ just a fact. Can’t turn the sky green or the fuckin’ grass blue, can’t change that you’re the best tiny brother I’ve ever had. None of the others fuckin’ compare,” Theo declares. Perce rolls his eyes, and elbows his elder brother. “Don’t rank us; I’ll tell Dad.” “Don’t be a sore loser, Perce. I can still kick your ass,” Theo retorts.

Perce grins at him, a toothiness to it that spoke of mischief and the innate competitive drive he had. “That really depends on what we’re going against each other in, but sure. Tell yourself you’re the best–if you say it enough times it might become true.” There’s a scoff from the elder brother, who ruffles his wings a little. “I can come out on top in anything–” “Manhunts, trivia nights, ability to keep my fucking mouth shut for more than five seconds–” “Fuck you! I could beat you if I wanted to–”

It quickly devolves into petty bickering, though there’s still that ever-present affectionate edge to it. Then Lee jumps into the verbal fray, which drags the two Swords and the Shield with him, and…it’s unlikely that the sparring will resume any time soon.

=================

Over in the flower fields next to Summer Hills, the second eldest of the family barely has to stop and think about the question. “Best worlds to visit are any of the peaceful ones with big societies and a lot of advanced tech. New things to take apart, new media, new internet to dive into. There’s always something unique in those worlds and I fucking love them.”

The two with him–Raine and Tubbo Prime–both stare at him. The other Tubbo looks confused. “Uh…Dee, who are you…oh.” He stops, realization dawning. “Did you get another question?” “Mm. Wanted to know the family’s favorite kind of world to visit,” Dee says, idly watching as bees float by them.

“...The whole…question thing unsettles me,” Raine admits quietly. “Yeah, shit’s weird. It’s just one more to add to the pile, though, and we can’t do much about it. Better to answer than be stubborn and piss whatever or whoever is asking off, right? Unless they’re assholes. In which case, I’ll meet that assholery in spades.”

Tubbo Prime grins a little. “Oh, definitely. Vee was pretty annoyed about the first few–last time I saw him go all eye twitchy like that was when he heard the names of Boo’s picks. Which was fair, because he’s been stabbed for those.” Raine’s expression turns deadpan. “His axe is bad, too. Not as bad as some of the other names I’ve heard, but…” “It’s okay,” Dee says earnestly, though with a mischievous grin. Putting a hand on his shoulder he continues, “This is a safe place. You can tell us how terrible Dream Prime’s equipment names are. We understand. We feel your pain.”

The three of them all crack up, Raine being the first to break. He wheezes out, “I still can’t believe he went from naming everything Nightmare to–whatever the fuck his current ones are–” Dee scowls, gesturing with his hands as he talks. “Dad knows what they mean. He refuses to explain beyond saying that they’re melodramatic and dumb as hell. I keep trying to get him to fucking crack, but…he’s him. So, you know, he’s a stubborn asshole who refuses to let me have any fun–”

Tubbo Prime shakes his head sympathetically. “Truly, he’s the head of the Fun Police.” “Yeah, but he’s pretty alright. And…a little scary,” Raine says as he lays back against the grass. “Oh yeah, no, you didn’t see him fight a fucking god with Theo, Techno, and Vee. He’s weird, but good weird. Like everyone else from that world!”

Dee makes a face. “No, there were assholes. There were a lot of assholes, actually. Hell, Vio used to be one of them. Still is, a little bit! I could start listing them off, but that’s fucking depressing. I’d rather watch the bees.” “Bees are superior to most things,” Tubbo Prime agrees, watching two of them drift by.

=================

Day sighs softly at the sound of a question. He’s in his living room with both Atlas and Orpheus, all three involved in their own projects. Day is in a chair and knitting a sweater in dark green, white, and light blue yarn. Atlas is positioned sideways on the couch with some sort of odd-looking board that he’s deftly knotting thin wire and beads onto in a complex pattern. Orpheus is…well. He’s got a ton of papers with notes and music on them spread out across the floor, his com propped up off to one side, a guitar halfway in his lap, and is chewing on a pencil.

“You two get that one, too?” “Yup,” Atlas says, not looking up from his project. Orph makes a noise of distracted agreement, eyes narrowed as he stares down at one of the pieces of paper like it personally offended him.

“Any of them I can go see musicals in,” Orph mutters after a moment. Atlas nods in agreement. “Yeah, those ones usually have good stuff for jewelry. It’s a pain to put away our wings, but worth it to just…go have a day of fun.”

“I keep getting mistaken for their brother. It’s funny,” Day cheerfully adds. Orpheus makes a face, finally looking up at him. “You get smug about it. It’s not their fault immortality isn’t a thing for most people–” “He gets so smug,” Atlas groans, glaring at their dad.

Day is entirely unrepentant. “Yes, well…it’s still very funny.” Orph points his pencil at him. “Hypocrite!” “Mmm, special Dad privileges. I’ve earned being a chaotic asshole from time to time,” Day says with a little shrug.

Orph starts intoning, “Every day spent here is a nightmare–” “No, that’s an axe. And a set of armor. And a sword–” Day’s interruption makes his son make an infuriated noise and hiss, “You know what I meant!”

That only makes Day raise his eyebrows slightly. “Of course I did. I also know that you’re a terrible gremlin child and deserve every single terrible dad joke I make. All of you do. I’m getting belated revenge for the raccoons, Orpheus.” Day shifts his attention to Atlas, who laughs nervously. “So, uh–your favorite kind of world, Dad?”

Day shrugs. “Anywhere that’s peaceful. It’s nice to not have to immediately deal with some horrible, nightmarish crisis involving pain, suffering, and death. The solution in those cases is usually more death. Or making everyone talk. Either way, I don’t like those. Ones that are just…silly, or lighthearted, or just generally aren’t deeply depressing. Or…hurt my head. We’ve had a few of those.”

“...Wilbur being married to XD was weird to hear about,” Atlas says, and all three of them make similar faces. Orpheus’s voice is slightly higher pitched as he rants, “How do you think it felt for me?! I had to hear about an alternate self that was married to a god who my Dad created here!”

“I had to meet a version of someone I fought a war against and another of whom is my son who married a god that is, for me, little more than an admin program I created. I had to have a little scream into a pillow after that one, because it was so baffling. We didn’t even do anything; we were just there to see it existed!” Day’s voice goes from oddly flat to somewhat frustrated as he speaks. He takes a moment to set his knitting down and stare blankly up at the ceiling. “I feel like the butt of a cosmic joke sometimes.”