#dazzlingvoid

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.

It's been weeks since the truth behind Daz’s shiny facade was stripped away. Theo was the first ‘outsider’ to see the broken, mangled, wretched thing underneath all that carefully-crafted image.

In the moment, he had felt a numb sense of horror.

Out of everyone on the server, he should be able to spot someone like.

Someone using care for others as a form of self-harm; someone hiding their trauma behind a smile; someone who has been running for so long that stopping feels like death.

…Someone exactly like his dad.

He still remembers the first time he saw Daz. He had been wrapped up in the arms of his Dream, looking up over the back of the couch like he was waiting for them.

His surprise had been so genuine that he wrote it off, but…

How much was a surprise?

Maybe it doesn't matter. Daz had bluntly said he planned to use whoever showed up to commit a form of suicide by cop, so– does it really matter if he was surprised it was them or surprised it was anyone?

The awareness of how close Theo came to doing that the second time leaves him cold in a way he hates.

Frost is his refuge. When rage and fire fail, he knows he can retreat to the ice and become something untouchable.

This chill, though…it leaves him feeling small and helpless.

He knows Aster didn't enjoy hiding this from him. He also knows– or is pretty damn sure– that Daz did…all of that, as a fucked up form of self defense.

But he’s still hurt by it.

Aster had been in tears from whatever he's seen of Daz’s past.

He explicitly said he'd rather deal with the monster that made him sit still as he carved a brand into his neck than Daz's own brother.

If Aster was so distraught about Daz’s past…was it worse? Was it really–

He scrubs his hands over his eyes. Sleep is gonna elude him again because of how jumbled and chaotic his thoughts and feelings are, so he reluctantly gets to his feet.

Pretty much the only thing he can think to do is go upstairs and try and watch something, but he spots Lee's light on.

Worried, he pokes his head in.

Lee is hunched over his desk, hard at work on what looks like a bracelet.

Calcite beads! For Daz? Aww he's serious about claiming him!! Baby bro best bro

He walks up and taps Lee’s shoulder. His little brother yelps in surprise and jumps in his chair.

A snort escapes him as he’s glared at. “Don’t sneak up on me,” Lee snaps, putting his work down to try and smooth his ruffled feathers.

“Sorry, baby bro,” he replies, glad that this, at least, hasn't changed.

His brother huffs softly, looking away.

A sudden and familiar shift comes over Lee’s expression, though.

“You'll find what you need at the Swords and Shields building,” his brother murmurs.

Brow furrowed, Lee asks, “What do you need Aster for?”

Theo grimaces. “I mean…”

Lee straightens up. “You've talked to him since everything, right?” “...In a manner of fuckin’ speaking–”

“Theo.” “It’s a lot to fuckin’ deal with!”

Not the smallest part of which is that Aster and Daz apparently get together.

Which is weird! He and Astet had a goddamned heart-to-heart about how they had no interest in that sort of thing!

Lee points at the door. “Go talk to your friend, coward.” “I'm not a–!” “Go.”

He sounds just like D3! Oh my goddd he's adorable Best!! Bro!!! He do got a point tho Face the music my guy it's time to dance

Uhhhg.

======

After a flight filled with mild bickering and trying to figure out what to say, he opens the doors to the Swords and Shields training hall.

He can hear the sounds of a fight. Huh, weird– who the hell did Aster call to spar with him at this hour?

Silent as possible, he slips in and–

Holy shit! Oh my god?! THE BASTARD CAN FIGHT?!?!?

He finds himself in mute agreement.

Daz doesn't look to be having an easy time, exactly, but he’s also wielding an axe like he’s right at home doing so.

…Wait, doesn't he use daggers?

He sees that familiar, feral grin on Aster’s face that says he's enjoying himself– giving him another weird pang that he definitely doesn’t want to identify any time soon.

That expression suddenly falters and Daz lunges forward, slamming his axe down.

Aster stumbles as he respawns on the spot, then glares at Daz. “That’s cheap.”

“That’s pressing the advantage against a stronger opponent,” Daz scoffs, leaning on his axe.

“So you admit I'm stronger.” “It's been years since I thought otherwise. Unlike some people in this room, I'm not fixated on my physical strength.”

I think he means you? Yeahhh sounds like you crazy to throw shade after what he's done but he's also not wrong lmaooooo

Annoyed, Theo stalks forwards. “Don’t be a fuckin’ bitch.”

Daz rolls his eyes and turns to sit down on a nearby bench.

Without his shirt on, Theo gets a glimpse of weird scars across his back.

Those are magic burns. What kind of magic? I don't recognize that one. 

He clears his throat. “What made that mark on your fuckin’ back?”

Daz squints at him. “...What?” “Fates say it's from fuckin’ magic. Was that the fuckin’ enchantment?”

Understanding seems to dawn on Daz. “Ah. No, but it was the inciting incident.”

Lightly, Daz answers, “I was shoved in a one-by-one cage and pelted with dozens upon dozens of potions, poison and instant health back and to back, in the span of about twenty minutes.”

There's a pause, and then Daz amends, “Forty-nine, apparently.”

He remembers Daz mentioning that cage years ago. It pissed him off at the time that anyone would think of doing something like that.

Daz hadn't mentioned he was actually inside it, though. Actually, he explicitly said he only saw it.

Aster sits down heavily on the bench, looking ill. “What the fuck was– all of that was for Dream?”

“I was just bait. The only thing he gave a shit about, unable to do anything but wait for rescue…again.”

The words are bitter, and understandably so.

Slowly, Theo says, “That much magic is fuckin’ lethal.” He’s picked up enough from his dad to know that much, even if he's never come anywhere near abusing potions to that extent.

There's a little shrug. “Dream’s obsession was probably kept me from dying. My theory is that that's the same reason the enchantment didn't immediately kill me, too.”

Tone way too fucking light for what he’s saying, Daz muses, “The world itself was even more closely entwined with admins than here. His will could have been powerful enough to bridge the gap…probably.”

Aster looks horrified. “Probably?!”

“I saw what he did to the program. I should be dead.”

It’s said so matter-of-factly that Theo doesn’t even know how to begin to respond.

Daz studies him, and Theo realizes that the scars on his back aren’t the only ones he has.

The guy has seen more fighting than Theo ever gave him credit for, huh?

Swallowing, scrambling for something that isn’t deeply depressing to latch onto, he mumbles, “Thought you used fuckin’ daggers, not an axe.”

He gets another shrug. “Axe is what I trained with. I’m too good to write off but not good enough to hide it better. I don’t have bullshit reaction time like you and the Comet, here.”

“I hate that fucking nickname,” Aster grumbles. “I know. That’s why I started it,” Daz tells him.

Wait, Daz came up with it?

“That was you?” “Among many other things, both good and bad.”

Daz gestures at the room around them. “All of this is because I went to him with a vision, after all. His switch from copying you in combat to being his own damn person was from me, too.”

…Shit, Daz really has done a lot, hasn’t he? Those two things alone really lead credence to why Aster didn’t ever come forward about him before now.

Aster is who he is because Daz pushed him into it. His best friend would be…fuck, he would be so much smaller, if he hadn’t been put on this path.

He’s not sure how to feel about that.

There’s a stretch from Daz, who idly notes, “He planned to keep an eye on me and report what I was up to, by the way. At least, at first. After a while…it was harder and harder to admit I didn’t have a point.”

Aster sighs deeply, not quite looking at either of them. “...He’s persuasive. I– I never liked keeping his secret, but–”

His friend’s face twists. “Theo, you know I don’t really like him. I think he’s–” “Careful how you speak about your future husband, dear.” “You’re a borderline sociopath who fucks with others for reasons ranging from petty to unresolved trauma, you’ve positioned yourself so you can’t be effectively helped, and you have so many fucking secrets it gives me hives,” Aster finishes.

Daz clicks his tongue softly. “I’m sure we’ll deal with this in couple’s counseling one day.” “I’ll setting for you dealing with your shit in regular counseling, that’d be a great start.”

Weird dynamic Familiar tho?? Yeah nah they obviously do this a lot Oh I meant that they’re, like, Theo and Day lmao

“Excuse the fuck you, Dad n’ I aren’t like them!”

That outburst makes Aster grimace. “I mean…” Almost smug, Daz hums, “Apparently I’m ‘just like Day’, and you and Aster are practically twins, so…”

He glares at both of them. “Fuck you.”

Daz’s eyebrows shoot up. Amused, he says, “Careful, Aster seems the jealous sort.”

Aghast, Aster tells him, “Shut the fuck up.” “But hon, it’s really funny to see you all flustered!” “I could strangle you. You fucked with the server code so deaths wouldn’t show up here, anyway–” “Yeah? How sure are you about how that works? Because I could have given it a limit, Aster. I could have made it so that it shuts off when I kill you,” Daz cackles, and fuck is it still weird to see him acting like this!

Aster’s jaw ticks, and then he slams his eyes shut. After taking a long, deep breath, and visibly calming himself in a way Theo suspects he learned mainly to deal with Daz, Aster answers, “If you keep being a bastard, I won’t sleep with you again.”

WHAT NANI THE FUCK HOLY SHIT WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN THEO GET AN EXPLANATION NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW

Face turning red, Daz snaps, “Don’t– say it in a way that’s– fuck you, don’t imply shit!”

Sounding and looking smug, Aster tells him, “Doesn’t it suck to get your bullshit turned back on you? I’ve already told you–”

Oh, so this is– so fucking weird, because Aster grabs Daz’s chin and continues, voice low, “I’ll go as low as you do.”

Daz all but throws himself away from Aster, ending up on the floor.

Evidently satisfied at whatever the fuck just happened, Aster turns back to him and explains, “He went missing for about sixteen hours yesterday. Apparently he was in a hidey-hole we overlooked, working on code with Innit. After he tried to storm off and failed miserably because he hadn’t eaten in ages, we had a chat. I made him lay down and have decent sleep for probably the only time since before he showed up here.”

Having apparently recovered, but still a bit red-faced, Daz mutters, “The coma was pretty good sleep.”

Hmm, that’s definitely not a good enough answer by literally any metric.

Instead of even beginning to touch on– literally any of that, Theo asks, “The fuck did you do before?”

“Dream. It stopped working when he betrayed me.”

…Shit, that’s depressing.

Aster adds, “Daz was working on that code because he made a deal with the Showrunner, by the way. He sees me like I see him, so…”

Daz suddenly squints. “You two had an entire pow-wow about how aro/ace you are? When the fuck was that?” “First party you inflicted on me about my earring from Theo. You know, where you riled up my own goddamned subordinates into thinking it was an engagement thing?”

Scoffing, Daz– who seems to not want to get up off the floor, at least for the moment– tells him, “In my defense, it wasn’t my idea to start with.” “Yeah, no, you still caused enough parties and well-wishes that that doesn’t actually matter, Daz.”

Theo remembers that party. He also remembers how Daz had seemed so damn hangdog about upsetting Aster.

Yeah, Aster’s dislike of him continues to only make more and more sense.

Flippantly, Daz says, “Pissed me off that you got earrings.” “Why the fuck–”

Aster goes quiet, suddenly looking stricken. Weakly, he says, “Oh.”

…Is this what it’s like to see him talk with the Fates? Or with his Dad?

Annoyed at being left out of the loop, he asks, “The fuck did you see?”

Daz looks up at him right as a beam of moonlight hits him. He looks surreal and dreamlike as he answers, “I abandoned my only claims before I came to Sanctuary. I couldn’t properly reciprocate anything I got here because I thought it would kill the other party.”

His heart sinks and squeezes at the same time.

Theo knows, better than pretty much any other non-admin, the impact that bond items have on an admin.

His mind is cast back a long, long, long time ago. When his dad was teetering on the edge of deciding if he’d take Theo and his brothers in…his eyes had gone to little trinkets they had given him.

Those were claims to him, he suddenly realizes. His dad had spent a literal lifetime adrift, but what seemed like clumsy attempts to reciprocate his kindness were the lifeline he had so desperately needed.

All over it again, it hits him how mangled Daz actually is. He was never a wounded baby bird, but instead a weasel that a cat had gotten ahold of and torn to shreds.

Even if he left plenty of wounds in return, he’s still been bleeding out in plain sight for years.

“...Why did you fuckin’-- why Lee?”

He’s stared at almost like he’s stupid. “If I was going to reject half of myself because I wasn’t ready to kill him, it’s dumb to do that by halves.” “But why,” Theo presses, still not understanding.

If it had been the Fates screaming at him, he doesn’t know that he could have held strong. At the time, Lee was basically nothing to him– so why was it so important to Daz to keep him alive?

Daz sighs, stretching his legs out into a more comfortable position. “Kindness like that is easy to snuff out. Is it really so hard to believe that I needed a liferaft, too?”

…That’s it? Everything Daz has done, all the secrets and lies and scheming– all because Lee was kind?

There’s a wry smile. “There was only ever one other person who was kind for mostly-selfless reasons. Even Dream, for all he did for me…he needed me. He needed to have someone who could never leave. I was his salvation, his chance at turning his prison into a paradise.”

Quietly, Aster murmurs, “Friendship isn’t selfish, Daz.” “Tubbo didn’t have anyone else to turn to, but he also wasn’t completely trapped. Not until…”

Despite Daz trailing off, Aster looks sad. “You still blame yourself.” “I was the one who made him stay. Without me, he would have gone off to sail the seas with his cousin. At every step, he stayed for me…and it led to a shallow grave.”

Almost unconsciously, Daz rubs the bracelet on his wrist. Dark green and red– bloodstone, Theo is pretty sure.

Has he…worn that in memory of his Tubbo? Theo remembers him getting it before he even left Summer Hills.

“Nobody stays without a reason. In Sanctuary, I’ve made sure people had ample reason– power, manipulation, food, even gratitude. The useless and worthless are discarded, so I made sure nobody would ever see me like that,” Daz continues.

His need to be useful wasn’t just a part of the lie? The shape maybe but not the content fuuuuuuuuck he’s so– so– can we go back and kill his Dream I feel like that’d be good for everyone Yeah actually let’s go kill him Murdertrip!!

Theo doesn’t dignify the Fates with a response. They damn well know that nobody is going back to that place– a berserk admin with nothing left to lose is too dangerous to go against if there’s any other options.

He sighs deeply. “Really need to do fuckin’ therapy, Daz.” “It’s easier to talk to people I know. I don’t like most Technoes.” “Isn’t fuckin’ Aleph in your secret club? N’ don’t you fuckin’ hang around Attie all the time?”

Daz rolls his eyes. “Most is the operative word, Theo.”

Reaching up to yank his hair out of its ponytail, Daz continues, “Atlas is one of my closest non-Council friends, actually. I think highly of him and like watching him work.”

Wait, don’t they have duo items?

Aster notes, “You should probably back that up if you really care.” “Shut up.” “Consider– no. You never have, after all.” “Let me work on the people I care the most about first, then I’ll work my way outwards.”

Resting his elbows on his knees, Aster stares Daz down and tells him, “And where do I fit into that?”

Daz looks like a deer in headlights. “I– what?” “I mean– we already know we get literally fucking married, Daz. With a kid–” “That’s then, this is now!” “I dunno, if we’re not fighting…maybe it’s worth working towards that future.”

They have a kld?!

“A kid?!”

Both of them seem to startle, almost like they forgot he was even there. Aster laughs, “Yeah, we uh– with the whole…future vision shit, uh– we both saw her.” “The fuck did this happen?! Why didn’t you fuckin’ say anything?!”

Aster opens his mouth, and then breaks out into laughter. Daz joins a beat later, smacking his hand on the floor. “Holy fucking– gods, yeah, that tracks!” “Oh my gods, she’s gonna be untouchable. Literally, the aura of her power will make people part in fear,” Aster cackles.

He’s not following. “The fuck’re you two on about?”

Theo is definitely not grumpy and feeling weird that the two of them have this– shared knowledge that Theo can’t even begin to touch, on top of years of existing secrecy.

Daz snickers, “You bawling like a baby when she says your name for the first time.” “Looks about ready to pass out the first time he holds her, terrified he’ll drop her,” Aster adds, grinning at him.

Yeah that tracks honestly idk man maybe Theo shouldn’t be trusted with a tiny kid how do they adopt her actually??

Disgruntled, he asks, “How do you two fuckin’ adopt?”

Still amused, Daz tells him, “No. Surrogate, I think.” “She has your freakishly blue eyes, Daz, even as a newborn.” “And she’s named after you, so–”

Ohhhhh fuck, that’s– that’s a whole different ballgame, then.

After giving himself a minute to let his brain reboot, he says, “...Dad’ll have a fuckin’ grandkid, huh?”

They both give him weirdly similar looks of confusion, so he stammers, “I– uh, if dad walks Aster down the fuckin’ aisle–”

“I’m already family in all but name, so– yeah, actually, she would be his grandkid,” Aster murmurs.

Daz snorts softly. “Don’t look so sour, Theo. I know you’re jealous I’m stealing your fiance–” “I can literally snap your fuckin’ neck, Daz.” “--but you’re gaining a godchild and niece.”

That…is so fucking surreal to consider that he doesn’t even know what to say.

Daz continues, “Alongside Lee and Raine, obviously.” “Can you even do three?” “Why not? Our kid, our rules. Anyone objects and we can direct them to the three of them and say, ‘okay, so you get to tell them to duke it out for who gets to stay the godfather.’ Actually, wait, that sounds funny.”

Do we even know how to like…deal? With girls? Uhhhh should we start looking into shovel talks now? I feel like now. What why literally LOOK at Daz. a kid that’s the spitting image of him??? A GIRL??? Oh my god that poor thing she’s beauty, she’s grace, she’ll probably be able to supplex you into your FACE

The server is in no way, shape, or form ready for a kid of any gender raised by those two.

Theo is reminded of how Daz ever so gently pleaded with Lee to let him go. How his primary reason had been to protect Lee, no matter the cost– how he had been willing to throw his own life away because he thought that Lee’s safety was in jeopardy.

It had been his primary angle when trying to convince the rest of them, too.

He shivers at the idea of that kind of loyalty and devotion being given to anyone, but especially a kid that they’ll be planning for. 

Deciding that, actually, he doesn’t want to think about that right now, he switches topics. “So why’re you both out here this late?”

“I was indulging the fightslut tendencies of my future husband. He did something nice for me, I did something nice for him,” Daz answers, evidently unbothered by the shift to something else.

Aster rolls his eyes. “I am not–” “Up until apparently me, the closest thing you’ve had to that kind of feeling is during a fight,” Daz retorts, looking smug, “Tell me I’m wrong, bitch.”

“I– shut up.” “I’m totally convinced, what a persuasive argument.” “I–!”

Obviously floundering, Aster sputters, “If I am, then so is Theo!”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Don’t fuckin’ drag me into whatever the fuck is happening.” “I’m just saying–” “Aww, babe…are you already bored with me? I’m sure I can find some way to make things more fun–”

Euuhg, gross gross gross, hearing that kind of simpering tone from Daz, directed at Theo’s best friend–

Aster, evidently in agreement, lunges forward and slaps a hand over the bastard’s mouth. Daz looks painfully smug as he ends up flat on his back, looking up at his evidently future husband’s bright red face.

“I’m going to kill you,” Aster growls at him.

Daz reaches up and rips Aster’s hand away. “Go on, do it. I fuckin’ dare you.”

There’s a long moment of seething, before Theo visibly sees a lightbulb go off in Aster’s head.

Grabbing both of Daz’s wrists, he slams them against the ground and leans in so close that Theo would swear they’re kissing.

Instead, his face moves to Daz’s ear and he tells him, voice low, “I thought you didn’t want to play this game, love. I can stake a public claim on you any time I want– make the server think of you as mine. If we’re going to get married eventually anyway, I don’t see the point in waiting.”

Daz squeaks in dismay, looking like he’s trying to shrink away.

“When you aren’t being a bastard, it’s not hard to see why I turn into such a simp for you. Having someone like you all to myself…I’m starting to see the appeal.”

Holy shit When did we start watching a romcom is this like– how you catch an admin?? Nah fam I think Daz is just a freak

Aster suddenly pulls back and grabs Daz’s shirt. Tone back to normal, he demands, “Your paycheck is what?!”

…Huh?

“You goddamned bastard, you bitched and moaned about getting me paid more when you make that much a month?!”

Daz gawks at him, still bright red, but eventually seems to recalibrate to the shift. “I– yeah, dipshit, I perform a vital service! I’m one of the highest paid people on the goddamned server, right after Management and the T3!”

Aster shakes him. “Theo does not get paid that much!” “Wait, really? Huh, then I guess only Management makes more than I do.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and then Daz rolls his eyes. “Your paycheck isn’t nothing, asshole.” “It’s not– that!” “That money is literally going to be half yours eventually, why are you bitching?” “I–”

Aster sits up so he’s kneeling. He sounds unsure as he says, “That’s…not the point…?” “You already know I’m stupid rich, this shouldn’t be a shock to you.” “Still not the point.”

A long, annoyed sigh comes from Daz. “If you can promise to keep your fucking mouth shut and let me work, I’ll let you spend a day watching me at the Welcome Wagon so you see why I’m worth that much. Shockingly, I do actually have a lot of things I have to get done, and if I’m busy answering stupid questions, I won’t be able to be as productive as I need to be.”

There’s a long, contemplative silence.

“...Only on one condition.” “The fact that I’m graciously allowing you watch a master at work is more than you deserve, so choose your words carefully.”

Aster leans down just a little again. Staring into Daz’s eyes, he demands, “Feed me.”

Daz is silent for a moment, and then asks in a tone both exasperated and confused, “Why?”

“I have spent literal fucking years having you spike any food you make for me. I want the real thing. I want to actually enjoy your cooking for once, without being afraid it’ll come back to bite me later.”

…Is Daz’s cooking actually that good?

Clicking his tongue, Daz answers, “Incentivize me.” “...What do you want?”

There’s a long silence, and then, very quietly and not looking at Aster directly, he mumbles, “You should know what I want.”

With a weirdly gentle expression, Aster says, “...That can be unrelated to the whole– seeing what you actually do. Cook for me and I’ll be your sleep aid.”

“Does your…nevermind. We can talk about it later.” “It’ll have to be your room, obviously.”

Daz turns his head to look up at Aster, seeming to search for something.

Then he blinks and says, “I don’t go in tomorrow. Today, technically.” Aster snorts, “I’ll grab something to sleep in, then. Make me lunch or something.”

There’s a relived smile, and then Daz says, “I’ll go get ready. See you!”

Theo can’t even begin to move fast enough, even if he wanted to, to stop Daz from opening his console and teleporting away.

Aster is left kneeling on the ground, a look between happiness, frustration, and confusion on his face.

Slowly, his friend gets to his feet, then looks at him. “That’s the best conversation we’ve had since I’ve known him, by the way. He’s just– like that.”

Finally able to find his voice, Theo demands, “The fuck was all that?” “All what?” “All of–” Theo grimaces, gesturing at the place Daz had been.

It seems to take Aster a moment to realize what he means. “Oh! Yeah, that’s– psychological warfare. I already told him that if he wants to take the low road, I’ll go lower. I’m sick of putting up with his petty bullshit, so…I’m punishing that, but rewarding good behavior.”

That very much does not sound like something one should say about their future spouse.

“Like a fuckin’ dog?” “Theo, I understand you aren’t aware of his sociopathic tendencies, not really,” Aster laughs, an edge of mania in his voice. He grips Theo’s shoulders, saying in a way that sounds almost like seething, “I finally have a way to give just as good as I get. Maybe he’ll stop being a bastard once I stop letting him shove me around.”

He squints. That sounds even less like a good thing for a partner to say.

Then again, what does he know about this kind of thing?

Daz IS kinda a bastard tho Maybe some snork mimimi will fix him? Power of love, baby!! He literally thinks any kind of affection is like, transactional, though I dunno…Aster seems to kinda just want food? That seems like a low price??

He shakes his head. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ understand it. Go fuckin’ appease your man, or whatever you fuckin’ are.”

“No idea, honestly. I might have to actually ask him out or something– taunting him like that…”

He knows for a fact he’ll have way more important battles to fight. He has to pick and choose what to direct his energy towards.

Daz glares at him and kicks his feet up as Aster flops into one of the chairs across the desk.

The bastard snaps, “You literally used one of my weaknesses against me–” “I didn’t actually realize you’re fucking touch starved until you reacted like– like that! Sure, in the future, you’re clingy as fuck–” “With you? I’d rather die.” 

Ignoring the scoff, Aster continues, “Clingy enough that you pass out from getting your hair messed with. I thought it was– I dunno, just a thing about it being someone you care about? But, no! You’re just–”

A vision of the past comes to him. He knows that’s what it is because he doesn’t see any of the usual hallmarks of the future.

…That, and Daz is in that old shoebox of a room he used to live in before he had his house made with Raine.

Oh, fuck, that place is infinitely more fucked up in hindsight actually! Given that hellish, claustrophobic nightmare of a closet in Pogtopia and how there’s only a short window high up with blackout blinds over it in this room…

A odd certainty comes over Aster. Daz was using it as a way to punish himself for his perceived failures and sins.

Past-Daz is drenched in sweat, evidently having woken up from a nightmare. A keening sob escapes him as he curls into himself.

The outside sight is bad enough, but on the inside–

I miss him I miss him he was my brother my friend my mentor, he kept the nightmares at bay with just a hand in my hair. Why why why why WHY?! I haven’t slept in so fucking long, nightmares come back every time. But I can’t even tell anyone.

Anyone but…

The thought trails off, and Daz looks at his clock. It’s the early hours of the morning– earlier than most people would be up.

I can’t tell him either, not really. But I can at least go piss him off– make sure he doesn’t get attached.

Attachments to me are deadly. I need his hatred.

Aster is left with another odd certainty that the person Daz went to go bother was him.

…How many times did he seek Aster out in a fucked up attempt to have some sort of semi-genuine connection? To have someone he could lash out against without it ruining everything he’d built up for so long?

Especially in the months before Khons and Aleph came into the mix…

Daz had nobody who knew the real him.

Nobody but Aster.

Back in the present, Daz glowers at him. Aster can’t even remember his original train of thought; another reminder of exactly how broken this person is makes it hard to fight with as much vehemence.

He sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “...Look. Now that you know it won’t– literally fucking kill the people you care about? You can be clingy with them. You know that Raine or Lee would be happy to– fuck, I don’t know, sit and watch a movie with you. Shit, Raine would probably help with your nightmares–”

The next vision he sees is the future.

They’re in an unfamiliar room– maybe a hotel? And…cuddling. It doesn’t look like they did anything gross, thank fuck.

Blehg, maybe that’s the wrong expletive for that.

Future-Daz is snuggled up to Future-Aster. The latter is smiling fondly at the former, whose nose is pressed into the crook of his neck.

“You slept better if I just…”

Future-Aster starts messing with Future-Daz’s hair, and he goes boneless.

There’s a soft, amused huff of air from Future-Aster. Future-Daz mumbles, sounding a little dazed, “Feel good…”

“Yeah? You want me to keep doing it?” Future-Aster sounds hopeful– excited, even, at the thought of doing this.

It must be fairly early on, then. He definitely doesn’t see anything that looks like a claim, and if future-him is unsure if this’ll be allowed…that’s the only way that makes sense. Despite that, Future-Aster must already be in pretty deep, based on how he’s smiling so tenderly despite Future-Daz not being able to see it.

Is it method acting, or is it sincere? Aster isn’t sure.

There's a little nod. “Mhm-hmm. Feels like…safety n’ love…” 

That smile grows as Future-Aster presses a kiss to Future-Daz’s hair. “You know I love you. And I’d murder anything that breathed at you funny. I’ll do my best to guard your nightmares, too.”

Aster is yanked to a different time, a different place.

It must be the past, because it's in that blackstone-lined base that Daz once called home.

Daz is sobbing, curled into himself and clutching the lime green hoodie he’s wearing despite seemingly being asleep. Dream seems distressed at the sight, reaching out and–

And getting yanked down so Daz can latch onto him in what seems like a death grip. A small, pained, desperate whimper escapes Daz of, “Don’t leave me.”

Dream seems to abandon any idea of getting up. He gets comfortable, wrapping one arm around Daz and gently, fondly, carding the other through his hair.

It's almost identical to how Future-Aster held him.

“I can't leave,” Dream murmurs.

Daz almost immediately relaxes…but keeps his death grip on his mentor's shirt.

And, finally, Aster understands the depths of the betrayal Daz experienced.

Dream wasn't just his mentor. As Daz said– he was family. This was the person who saved him from what seemed like hellish nightmares and actual danger many times over.

When he’s back in the present, he feels a lump in his throat.

He asks, quietly, “Aren’t you tired of nightmares?” “They’re not as bad if I’m exhausted. All I have to do is overwork myself,” Daz answers, as if that’s an actual solution instead of another way to torment himself.

Aster sighs deeply. “I want to keep hating you, but it’s so fucking hard when I see– so much of why you’re like this. You…”

He doesn’t even know how to finish that. Daz snaps, “I’m what, asshole?”

“You’re not happy. You’re running on fear and spite and have been…god, maybe for forever. Don’t you want something good? Don’t you want to feel at peace instead of hating yourself?”

Daz, instead of being angry about that…laughs. It’s a soft, bitter sound, almost like he resents the idea that that’s even possible.

“Even if I got better, I have a person in my head that would hate me enough for both of us,” Daz scoffs.

Right. Sometimes it’s easy to forget about Innit.

He leans forward and stares Daz down. Daz doesn’t even flinch, merely kicking his chin up as a show of pride.

“Maybe Innit is capable of getting better, too.”

He’s yanked into that white void again, and Innit is suddenly in his face. “Get better? And, what– accept that I’ll always be trapped in here, forced to watch that bastard life a live and be happy–”

Aster, as he’s done on many occasions, makes a snap decision.

He pulls Innit into a hug, carding his hand through its hair.

“I’m going to tell you a secret. The wedding I saw– you were there. In the flesh, happy, and nobody batted an eye.”

A keening sob comes from Innit, even as it shoves its weight against him like its a starving man set before a feast.

He sways a little, keeping his voice gentle like he would with Lee when he’s upset. “So I know it’s possible. I know you could live a life without him. But…not when you’re a threat to everything we care about. Not when we’re worried you’ll try and hurt everyone else.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” Innit wails, shuddering violently. “I can’t let it go, I’ll have nothing left! All I’ve wanted is to die, because– because I have nothing, nothing, and you took my only chance away from me, so you can’t just–”

Aster runs his blunt nails over Innit’s scalp and is startled when it suddenly becomes dead weight. He’s worried for only a second before he realizes that it’s purring, tail swishing like a happy cat.

“You can have something good, though. You can be happy, Innit.”

It mumbles, “I’m a monster. I don’t deserve to be happy.” “...You really are part of Daz, huh? But– no. You’re not a monster. You fucked up and took your fear out on someone completely innocent, yeah, but– but I know Daz, Dream, Theo, myself, and the rest of the Council wouldn’t let you free without you having proven you’re good. Good enough to even come peacefully to the wedding…and, uh– and hand Daz off to me.”

There’s a quiet snort. “That bastard takes the bride’s role?” “Uh, well, Day hands me off to him too, so…”

Innit is quiet, seeming deep in thought as it luxuriates in getting this affection.

…If Daz is touch starved, Innit must be a thousand times worse.

Its pupils, which had dilated, slowly return back to normal. Quietly, it says, “...Not even the Scribe or my friends have offered to free me like that…”

Pupils thinning, it suddenly amends, “Not that I’m not– very grateful to them, of course! I didn’t– I was in hell before. But they can’t give me full freedom. I think my friends want to, but…”

Aster glances around and notices that the creatures are nowhere in sight this time.

“What…are they, anyway?”

It blinks at him. “Observers. Break, Asher, and, uhm– they never told me their name, so I’ve been thinking of them as Mithra.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but Aster’s more pressing realization is that he had insulted three different Observers.

…Fuuuuuuck.

Head cocking to the side and studying him in the way that Daz often does, Innit suddenly seems a little amused. “They weren’t happy you called them things, by the way. You might wanna grovel.”

He grimaces, but is distracted from his distress by Innit shoving its head upwards. “Hey, if you’re gonna be nice– keep petting. You’re warmer than the mannequins.”

Aster complies but asks, “Mannequins?” “Yeah, sometimes weird mannequins show up and give me headpats. It’s nice, but they’re not really…warm. Or talkative. Or– capable of much vis-a-vis dexterity. They don’t really have fingers, either.”

Weird.

Innit rambles, “I still– I don’t really like you, you’re annoying and full of yourself and so much like Dream it hurts, but…”

It looks away, an odd expression on its face. Its claws dig into his hoodie, and it mumbles, “But– but if you…if you can save me? If you can free me? I’ll– I’ll do anything.”

There’s such raw misery and desperation in those words that it makes Aster shudder. When Innit meets his eyes again…

It looks less like a person and more like a scared, wounded animal. Something longing so desperately for a scrap of kindness but terrified it’ll only be hurt again– scared that it will lose what little it has.

Quietly, tears welling up in its eyes, Innit tells him, “I’ll devote myself to you like a dog. You think I have any pride left after being trapped for so long? I don’t. Not– not for this. So please…please, let me out. I want to feel the sun; I want to pick out my own music; I want to decide where to look. I want to be a person. Or– not even a person! Being a pet is fine, too. If it’s you on the other end, I don’t even care if you leash me with loyalty. Not– not the same one, obviously, but– but a stable one. I– I know you. I know you wouldn’t abuse it. So…so, it’s okay. It’s better than nothing. It’s better than this.”

That’s– such a horrifying idea on so many levels that Aster can barely breathe.

Why had he been so quick to dismiss Innit? Why had he not questioned what led it to act the way it had– or how its punishment would have made its hatred and resentment fester?

He swallows and pulls it into a fierce hug. “I don’t know that I can stomach that.” “Fuck your discomfort. I’m an eternal prisoner in the head of my jailer, who is also the person who betrayed me. Tell them, please. Tell them I don’t care, not if it lets me out. I’ll even play nice with that bastard if we see each other. Just– just as long as I’m free.”

Voice cracking and tears spilling over, it begs, “Don’t abandon me, too. I can’t take another betrayal. It– it might kill me in all the ways that matter.”

And then he’s back in the office, head swimming as Daz snarls words he can’t hear.

Still dazed, and vaguely aware tears are burning in his eyes, he confesses, “I talked to Innit. I– I saw its life before, too. Daz…” “This is exactly why I didn’t want you to know about it! It tried to kill Lee, you stupid bastard!”

He laughs softly and without humor. “Obviously I’m not happy about that. But I know it’s set free eventually. Shit– do you know what it told me?” “Whatever it needed to to get your sympathy, obviously!”

“It told me that as long as the one on the other end  is me, it’ll let itself be enchanted with loyalty. That it’ll take living as a– as a dog. Daz– Innit may have fucked up, yeah, but…shit, what am I supposed to do with that? We can come up with contingency plans and shit, but I can’t just– do nothing.”

Daz opens his mouth, clearly ready to argue, but Aster leans across the desk and grabs his forearms. Staring him down, he says, “It has three friends who are Observers. Observers, uh, look like animals apparently? Weird animals, though. Not shape, the shapes weren’t that strange. But they were all this– silver and lavender color–”

The bastard suddenly looks alarmed. “Did it swirl and shimmer together? Otherworldly, sorta dream-like?”

He nods.

Sure, the cats are a bit of an annoyance, but that’s solved by releasing a chicken into the zoomies track.

Lucid had not been happy to learn that that little prank started with Daz.

“--no, if you do that, the stasis state will be triggered while Innit sleeps,” said admin huffs, like that’s obvious.

Day argues, “If the trigger is linked to–” “It’s an entire extra fucking headache, because the line is thin. The trigger needs to be respawn. An extra failsafe can be made for niche circumstances, but also, that can literally be as simple as a buddy system! Innit or I have to check in regularly, to make sure neither of us are in a fuckin’ coma.”

Daz rolls his eyes. “Given I’ll literally be married, it’s the easiest solution.”

Lucid frowns. “Okay, but when does that even happen?” “Relatively soon,” Daz answers, shrugging. The ascended admin sounds doubtful as he sighs, “Define relatively.”

Uhg, Prime forbid he be allowed to keep some mystique. “A year or so, max. Even before then, Aster is like– literally spending nights with me.”

There’s a little snort from Day. “I heard about that. Theo looked ready to get into my cooking wine.” “Given he watched Aster flirting with me– which he did to be an asshole–” “No, I’m pretty sure he was doing it because you started it?” “Fuck off, he was doing it to be a dick.”

Lucid looks lost. “When was–”

He cuts himself off, looking increasingly confused as he must be shown that night at the training hall. That’s pretty much a given with this sort of conversation, and why Daz doesn’t talk about things he doesn’t want Lucid to know where San can see.

“Magic burns?!”

That’s what he’s gonna focus on?

Daz makes a face. “Yeah? I was hammered with a shitload of potions in a very short timeframe. Splash potions can soak into fabric if enough are used. They taste awful, by the way! Even worse than normal poison.”

As he makes sarcastic jazz hands, Lee states, “He had your code open, ready to do whatever it took to yank you back from Death’s embrace.”

Bitterly, Daz replies, “Then he fucked it up by subjecting me to infinitely worse. Even if– if, he thought it would protect me…”

An ugly laugh echoing with years of a wound left to fester and rot escapes the hollow cavern of his chest. “The fact that I screamed from every order should have made him rethink it.”

“...Not that anything excuses it,” Lucid starts, slowly, though flinches at Daz’s glare, “but– soul erosion…it wears away your common sense. Your ability to– to think, to be rational. To empathize, I suspect.”

Sneering, Daz tells him, “No fuckin’ shit. We planned to do Doomsday, and he was going to slaughter the entire server. You drove a guy to the brink of suicide, among other things.”

Flatly, Lee reminds him, “Your views on suicide are uniquely fucked up, don’t throw that out so lightly.” Definitely an effort to defend his dad’s feelings, Lee doesn’t care about Lucid that much. Probably.

“I don’t appreciate apologism for the single fuckin’ worst–” “It’s not apologism. I hate him too– I’m glad you killed him! Just because it explains why doesn’t mean what he did was right. I still have nightmares about– shit, Daz, I thought your fake backstory was ugly enough. The real thing is worse,” Lucid states, tone grim.

He looked ready to pass out. Day was leaning more towards hurling.

Because he’s that kind of person, Daz laughs. “You just about passed out, and Day was two seconds from puking. Honestly? Kind of cathartic.”

“Still wanted to kill us, though,” Day notes.

He shrugs again. “Can you really blame me?” 

The immortal grimaces.“...Not really. My own betrayals were bad enough, but that…”

It takes him a moment to recall the conversation they had…it feels like a lifetime ago, but it wasn’t actually that far in the past.

There are a lot of ways an admin can feel betrayed, but the one he’s interested in a very specific kind of action.

Evidently, they’re taking a bit of a break, so he stretches out and asks, “So, not to be too nosy, but– I’m curious. The fuck happened with that tattoo that got covered up?”

He nods to Lucid, who seems confused. “He’s not on too shitty terms with them, after all. What was the difference?”

When Day doesn’t immediately answer, he points out, “You know my trauma, shouldn’t turnabout be fair play?”

The immortal sighs, long and tired. “...When I was at spawn, at the very end. Styll was there, with Time– with the Scribe, I guess– speaking through him. It was raining. Smoke saw us. In a flash of thunder, I saw his arm.”

Ah. Daz is familiar with the tattoo on Sapnap Prime’s arm. He hadn’t given it too much thought, but knowing that that was Day and Lucid’s claim on him…

“Headband and goggles. Those were what my Dream used. One was thrown back at him for refusing to reject me,” he tells them. Might as well give him that.

Lee murmurs, “You wove the ribbon to mend the gaping wound his loss left.” “I did,” Daz confirms.

There’s a long, pregnant pause. His student stares at him. “...That’s why you don’t consider anything you’ve given so far to be real claims, isn’t it? You didn’t make them. At best, you designed them.”

He reaches out and taps the brooch on Lee’s shirt. “Yep. Otherwise, you’d be claimed already.”

Lee looks down at it, brow furrowing. “...You designed this?”

It’s kind of nice to be able to tell him that. He answers, “More or less. The ear cuffs were my idea, too.”

Unexpectedly, Lee surges forward. “Show me the one you have!” “I– what? You can see it–” “No, no, not that one,” Lee huffs at him, “The real one!”

He blinks several times, and then breaks into laughter.

“Real one?” The question from Day makes Lee huff. “Daz was the whole reason the Swords and Shields exist! The cuffs were his idea, so–”

The child points to the one he’s currently wearing. “Do you really think he’d have such a new one? I don’t even need vibes to know that much!”

Daz uses his console to remotely open his ender chest, into the contents of a shulker box, and withdraws the little box he keeps the cuff in.

He flips it open, showing it to Lee. “Satisfied?” “What number is it?” “First shield, second overall. Aster’s is the very first, obviously. Aleph and Khons have three and four. Raine has five– though, obviously, he wears a newer one like me. There’s a sixth, but it’s not used. We kept a sword and a shield in reserve for whoever wound up being our fifth.”

He traces the shape of the charm. “Those first six were the prototypes. After that, a mould was made. So…we all have ones that were hand-forged– the only ones like that. I felt like that carried too much meaning to pass up.”

Taking off the one he usually wears, he places them side by side. “See? You can tell elements shifted and were refined.”

They all stare at it.

Quietly, Day murmurs, “Every time I think I’ve wrapped my head around how insane you are…you reveal something new.” “And you’re aware all over again why Aster couldn’t rat me out, hmm?” “Yeah. Even if we have disagreements on some things…”

Day sighs, wings rustling a little. “I mean– I question the amount of it that’s for Lee, versus that just being an excuse to not deal with your shit.” “Definitely not zero,” Lee mutters.

I wish it was zero, Innit grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah, you still resent the literal child, get over yourself,” Daz scoffs.

I think I’ve earned my resentment. “I think you should stop being a fuckin’ pussy and hate the right person, actually!” You wildly underestimate how much I hate you, too. “Oh, trust me, I know you hate me.”

Bitch. “Fuck you right back.” I’m going to kill you at least once. “Good fuckin’ luck, you’ll have to get used to walking before you can come for my throat!” Watch your Prime-damned back, asshole. “Likewise. Good luck explaining why you stabbed me to the rest of the server,” Daz sneers.

“That’s still really concerning,” Lucid says, grimacing. “Don’t like you fighting your admin half.”

“Don’t like our pow-wow being observed, but there’s nothing to be done about either,” Daz retorts.

Day grimaces. “Why didn’t you say something?” “Why bother? They come and go as they please. Recently they don’t even say anything, so–”

Of course he has to be proven wrong.

Annoyed, he says, “I just know pity when I see it. Sometimes niceness is pity, sometimes it’s not. Sometimes concern is pity, sometimes it’s not.”

Day leans forward. “How do you know?”

Rolling his eyes, he says, “Because I know how to read everyone. You’re an extremely shitty liar, for the record.”

“Excuse me?” “You struggle to maintain the correct expression and your eyes are a dead giveaway anyway.”

The immortal looks offended, but Daz flips his false persona on. “Plus, like– you totally don’t modulate your tone or phrasing! I’m still kinda shocked nobody clocked your whole like, deal, even before you were forced to tell everyone!”

Day’s eyes thin. “Don’t think I’m not aware what you’re trying to do.” “Gosh, you make it sound like I’m doing something sinister!”

Keeping his tone bubbly, he makes his expression a tonally dissonant, teeth-baring threat display masquerading as a grin.

“Maybe you shouldn’t, like, poke a volatile person when they’re already on edge! It’s kinda like– a super obvious thing, you know? Sorta just common sense!”

Day levels him with a look. “Your caustic personality and violently cynical worldview do wonders to explain why you avoid letting people close, but try to remember that I’m not your enemy. I can be, if you really want. You sure you want that?” 

He reverses his acting; sneering tone, saccharine mask. “You sure you want to threaten me, DayDream? ‘Cause I guarantee you won’t win a war of attrition. My methods are outside your expertise. Can’t fuckin’ hit me to end it, you’d have to fight socially.”

Daz laughs, blatantly mocking. “And, gosh, I wonder who has better connections, better friendships– better ability to persuade, rather than intimidate?”

Lee physically gets between them. “Daz, knock it off. Dad…try not to let him get under your skin.”

“Hah,” Daz scoffs, flipping his masks off. Face and voice normal, he mutters, “As if anyone, especially him, can manage that.”

Day glares at him, wings poofed up in anger.

Good. He hates when people try to dig into his head, and even more when they try to threaten him.

Unlike most people on the server, he’s not afraid of DayDream. Wary, sure, but scared?

Fuck no. The man would be easy to take down in whatever ways Daz saw fit to do so. Sure, there would be consequences, but he’s still capable of that.

Lucid, who has tried to stay out of a pissing contest between the two people he least wants to upset on the whole damn server, jumps at the answer to a question he had asked several nights ago.

Yeah, you know what, that’s probably a good enough distraction from that whole…ordeal.

“Innit, Vio, and me are your favorites? That’s…huh. I guess I’m only more interested in meeting Innit, then,” Lucid says, loudly enough to ensure the others don’t have a choice but to catch it.

Daz makes a face. “That one– fuckin’ Asher?” “You know their name?” “Yes. Innit told me,” Daz huffs.

There’s a pause, and then he rolls his eyes. “Because Aster asked, yes, I’m aware you’re simping for him.” Another pause. “Then what the fuck am I supposed to call it, huh? You whine when I say anything negative.”

Daz glares at a wall. “Don’t twist my fuckin’ words. Just because we get married doesn’t mean I have to be nice.”

“Generally, people like their spouses,” Day mutters, earning a middle finger but no further reaction.

Daz scoffs, “This is still an upgrade, remember? He’s damn near crying tears of joy because I make his fuckin’ food.” “You’re cooking for Aster?!”

Ignoring Lee’s outburst, Daz rolls his eyes. “Why are you such a petty bitch?”

The guy’s expression darkens, seeming almost…guilty.

For once, Lucid wishes he could peek inside his head to know what could get under his skin like that.

…Then again, knowing what he already knows…it’s probably something nasty enough to fuck his sleep up even more.

Nevermind, then.

Quietly, Daz murmurs, “...Let’s get back to work, then. I want you out of my head almost as much as you want to be out.”

It takes him a few more minutes to decipher their answer. He relays, “Uh, kind of? The subtler signs of someone being invisible are hard to notice if they’re not focused on that exact area and looking for them. San just has the benefit of being able to go back and look for clues, y’know?”

Not that it’s impossible to evade their gaze. Hell, it’s one of the key pieces of information given during orientation; blackstone and obsidian block the sight of the perpetual security camera that otherwise sees everything.

Yeah, he’s not terribly surprised there have been more than a few people who couldn’t cope with the idea of that. He’s glad they could help them relocate to less…upsetting homes.

Given that San can still be iffy on respecting boundaries– like not randomly showing Lucid things they really shouldn’t be showing him– he can’t even be upset that pretty much everyone has a secret room or even bunker they can relax in.

Rather, he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to keep the truths of being an admin hidden…but that he can still offer them privacy when they decide they want it.

Though he does feel a bit guilty that because blackstone and obsidian are literally dangerous for him to be around for extended periods of time, Zephyr and Iatros had to build their hidden areas a bit further out.

He does know that the meeting room for the Syndicate had been retrofitted into one such place. And…it’s one that Iatros sometimes uses to have his appointments with Day in.

…Also, another one is in what used to be the wither vault, for some unholy reason.

‘Tros has a weird sense of humor sometimes.

He makes a confused face at that statement.

Not a lot of people consider him their favorite. Hell, even Aver– for as much as he loves to pester Lucid and drop by to spend time with him– has stated that, sorry, his favorite Dream is actually Lee.

That statement had been followed up with a rambling, “He’s the second poggest kid on the server! N’ I’m not just saying that ‘cause his fuckin’ family n’ dedicated army would murder me otherwise. Or ‘cause he’s apparently gonna get deep in the fuckin’ weeds about poison, n’ frankly with how scary the people around him are I really don’t wanna get on his bad side–”

At which point Lucid had told him that he wasn’t going to be mad that he liked the kid.

Hell– Lee has wormed his way into pretty much everyone’s heart. To…perhaps a concerning degree, given the aforementioned Swords & Shields.

Yeah, if it were for anyone else, he’d be worried. He’d also be worried if it were helmed by anyone other than Aster.

The guy is basically a zealot vis-a-vis his dedication towards the absurdly overpowered kid. From the glimpses he’s gotten or been unwillingly shown, Aster does not fuck around when it comes to Lee.

Which is nice. He’s glad that his probable future co-admin has a dogmatically loyal person at his side.

More importantly, though– at least for the moment– he can smell lemongrass and pine. The tell-tale sign of his server getting indignant at him.

Right, he hasn’t answered or conveyed their response.

Dutifully, he says, “Sorry, got lost in thought. Uh, we’re good? And San likes cats owned by players. They kind of made do when not many people had cats, but now that there’s a ton owned by various people…they’re having the time of their life.”

His head tilts to the side. The person– Observer, he thinks they’re called?-- just spoke, and yet is talking like they left and came back.

Hmm. Are…the messages not being given immediately?

Definitely something he should bring up with the T3. Nobody is really positive whose authority all this weirdness falls under, but the three of them are definitely the most affected.

He parses the rest of the message and blinks several times.

“...Instincts? That sounds wrong. I’m not a hybrid, and neither is Day…?”

Upon directing his mental attention to San, his world gives him the equivalent of a shrug.

Great. That’s…comforting.

The rest of the message is even less welcome to hear. He really hopes whatever the hell the Observer is talking about, it’s not something that’s going to bother him any time soon.

A sudden knock at the door distracts him from his thoughts. He’s not expecting anyone, but few people bother making appointments with him anyway. If he’s needed, he gets called or they just show up.

He’s more than a little surprised to see Daz at his doorstep. The guy smiles at him, but it’s not as bright as it usually is. “Hey, Lucy,” the head of the Welcome Wagon says.

By now the nickname doesn’t bother him. It’s a sign of friendliness, and given how messed up Daz had been when he first got to Sanctuary…

Well, the fact that Lucid got such a cutesy nickname so quickly is pretty much a miracle.

Since it looks like Daz has a lot he wants to say, he opens the door for him. “Thanks,” the guy says, smile growing just a little. He politely wipes his shoes off and then flops onto one of the overstuffed armchairs.

Daz seems to steel himself and takes a deep breath, and declaring, “I– I want to be trained as an admin. Not instead of Lee, but alongside him.”

That’s…a surprise. Lucid slowly sits down in his usual spot, and Hope immediately climbs into his lap.

“What brought this on?”

Daz is quiet for several long moments, anxiously messing with the many gold earrings crammed into his left ear.

Eventually, he says, “I think…I think that’s– that’s why everything happened to me. The– the stuff that brought me here. I think it was– I think he needed another admin.”

That had been something Lucid had thought might be the case, but he still winces. “I don’t know how rare admins were where you are, but…” “I didn’t even know I was one. I, uh– I also didn’t get out much. I see more people at the average Welcome Wagon picnic than I did in my entire life up until Sanctuary.”

There’s a slight shake of his head, and Daz sits up straighter. “But, I can help. And I want to do it! Even if I might not become a full admin– I still haven’t really wrapped my head around that…I can still help. And I’m good at explaining things! Maybe if I figure stuff out with code and it’s not clicking for Lee, I can help him.”

If this had been before Daz had proven himself over and over again with the Welcome Wagon, Lucid might have hesitated more. But…for all his bubbly, somewhat ditziness, Daz is also full-throatedly dedicated to helping others.

In every action that Lucid has seen him take, Daz has been determined to make the server a better, happier place.

A lot of other people, he might suspect of making some kind of weird power play. But…Daz?

There’s no way in hell that the guy has a malicious bone in his body.

“I mean– it’s not really up to just me. But…I’ll talk to Day about it.” He glances out the window, and stands up again. “It’s getting a little late, though. I don’t want you to get stuck outside at night. Respawns still kinda suck.”

Daz stands up and hugs him tightly. “Thanks, Lucy! I knew I could count on you. Uhm, I can make my case to Day if you want? Since it’s kinda…”

He huffs and awkwardly pats the guy’s back. “Nah, it’s probably better if I do it myself. Nothing’s decided yet, though, so don’t get your hopes up too much.”

There’s a bubbly laugh, and Daz grins at him. “You underestimate my capacity for hope,” he teases, before breaking away. “I’ll go, then. Thanks again! Have a good night– and you too, San!”

Just as quickly as he had showed up, the abnormally upbeat Tommy leaves. In fact, he does so so quickly that Lucid isn’t able to convey the flurry of delight from his server at the prospect of having one of their favorites as another admin.

Everything has gone to absolute shit. Daz’s spark, Lee’s spark, Innit’s freedom, Observers interacting and coddling Innit– none of that is good!

And, the icing on the cake is that Theo and Day are now apparently getting a special visitor.

That has to be the Scribe. There’s no way that there’s some other mysterious entity tied to all of this running around.

He’s fighting a panic attack, the urge to puke his guts up, and flashbacks of how it felt to bury Tubbo.

What a mess you’ve made for yourself! Hah– you’re pathetic. Just as lost and stupid as you were every other time. Hey, why don’t you try running to Lucid and beg him to teach you, instead of Lee? 

Instead of dignifying that with a response, Daz snatches the magic 8-ball that’s he’s been seen playing with a few times. He studies it like it could provide an answer, a way forward–

Wow, this is pretty sad. 

The sudden voice makes him startle, and then set the toy back down. “...What do you want?”

Mmmh…that’s not the tone you should be taking with me.

He snarls, “You can’t just–”

I can do whatever the fuck I want, actually. You want to play stupid games? You won’t like the stupid prize you earn for that.

Sugar and rot coat his mouth and mind. The broken enchantment tries to turn him into nothing more than atoms. The sword he spent countless hours laboring over pierces his best friend’s heart. The sword. The grave. The deal. The sword, the grave, the deal. The deal, deal, dealdealdealDEAL–

Daz stumbles, suddenly caught off-balance. He catches himself on the edge of the central table and sinks down into a chair. His head is throbbing and his lunch is threatening to come up even more than it had before.

Just past the pain, there’s a sense of loss that he can’t understand. Why does it feel like he’s forgetting something…?

What the fuck did you do, jackass? Innit’s groan of pain gives him a spiteful spark of happiness. At least he’s not suffering alone.

Petty little– look, if you’re going to bore me, I can just go find someone else to talk to. 

The unspoken threat of what that conversation would look like is enough to make him swallow and ask, “I don’t know what you consider entertaining.”

Tittering, the voice replies, I mean, plenty of things! But pacing like this isn't gonna cut it. Make a move, or I'll flip the chessboard over.

Daz stares at the nether star set into the meeting table. The magic inside it makes it shimmer and gleam.

He bought that star in part to fuck with Aster. Having a symbol so blatantly tied to him in this place, and displayed so openly, makes it impossible to deny that the Council is linked to him.

Ditto for the pattern in the floor beneath the table. Smooth quartz and glowstone in the shape of a four-pointed star.

But, ultimately, the Council is Daz's creation. Even though they're meant to be equals, in times of crisis the group looks to him for guidance.

The result of his blood, sweat, tears, and trauma is a beautifully efficient system that protects the server.

And, in doing so, protects Lee.

They can't afford to shrink away from this responsibility. No matter how little they want to do it…

Daz shuts his eyes and steels his nerves.