#innerinnit

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.

The question makes it hum in thought, its tail swishing back and forth. “Uhm…I've never really thought about it? I know I'm not a she, though. He is closer, but not quite right…”

It takes a moment for it to remember the other one. “Ah, right! They/them would be nice. Since…I mean, it was really ‘cause I was…I was always thought of as the bad parts of him. A monster, really. Something to cage and fear, not…a person.”

Dwelling on its pain about that is exhausting and depressing, though.

“So, uh, maybe…I guess I like they/them better than it,” Innit says, ears perking up a little. “I don’t think I’d have changed it without– I mean, it never crossed my mind. Thank you, Asher. I appreciate you a lot.”

They beam, nuzzling their face into their friend’s fur.

It actually catches them off guard when food appears, and they have to scramble to grab the plates without also dropping Asher. They laugh, proud that they managed to do it, though.

They squeak in alarm, having to let go of Asher– who scrambles onto their shoulder instead– in order to grab all of the food.

A pout forms. “That was mean! I almost dropped them all…”

They sit down to eat, and their other friends come to sit beside them. They hum happily as they enjoy the treats being given to them.

The pancakes are its favorite. Fluffy, stuffed with chocolate chips, topped with whipped cream, and gloriously sweet, it knows it will have to try and find someone who makes something similar.

They reply, “I’m really gonna enjoy walking around, too. I think…I think, as soon as we know everything is stable and I have just– the basics of having an actual body down? I want to go and explore. There are some groups that do that kind of thing, y’know? Uhm, some clubs and stuff. And there’s some jobs for it, too– people need places to live, and some people really like being super far out. There’s cavers, gatherers, and whatnot, since some stuff you have to find rather than grow.”

According to the gossip that Innit has had no choice but to hear, there are often new biomes, structures, and even loot that shows up. Supposedly, the newer something is, the more likely you are to find good stuff.

San, being a sucker, can’t help but baby their residents.

Innit would love to know how much control they have and if they tweak things based on who is finding it.

They also wonder if some of Daz’s favor will rub off on them. Maybe if they talk to the server like they wish someone had talked to them, San will love them even more than they love Daz.

“I’m really excited for the chance to do stuff like that, though. I know I said I'd live with Aster, but, I mean–”

They can't help but feel a little bitter about how he's mostly forgotten about them. Instead, his focus is on the bastard and their burgeoning romance.

No matter how much they want to burst the bubble, they also don't have the heart to do that.

And…it’s a risk, too. 

Everyone is willing to let them out because they're free in the timeline Aster and Daz are seeing, but if that certainty in their goodness goes away–

Well. All the more reason to weasel their way into an exploration team.

If they bond with someone there, maybe they won't need to rely on Daz’s circle.

And the more people who know and care about them, the less likely it is that they can be forced back into Daz’s head again, or exiled, or otherwise forced to leave Sanctuary.

Maybe, during the period where they’re gaining enough trust to be allowed to wander like they want, they can make good use of being in Daz’s head and make some friends.

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 reaches up to put a clawed hand on their back, purring from the warm greeting and affection.

“Thank you,” it says, gently scritching the chittering creature, who is enthusiastically patting its head. Having someone upset at its treatment is a balm on old, festering wounds; all of its suffering has not gone unnoticed.

Having others who really, truly care for it is one of the things it used to fantasize about.

…At least, before the fantasies nearly drove it mad. It couldn’t afford to go insane– not if it wanted to one day pay Daz back for his cruelty.

The way the newest member of its circle speaks of the Scribe gives it pause. Break had said something similar, hadn’t they? ‘There’s no point in lying to the scribe. Or the showrunner.’

Are…are there two entities? As far as Innit has seen, only the Scribe has been present, though, so…what does this Showrunner do? And, more importantly, what are their allegiances?

Those questions can wait, though. It needs some time to ruminate on them a little more.

Currently, there’s a new friend present. It can’t stand the thought of being rude to them, especially not on their first meeting. “For things I want…hmm. I don't suppose you can get me a real body, huh?”

Its tone is rueful, the statement made half as a joke. There’s no way the Observers have that much power; if they did, surely that would have already happened. After all, it seems to have gathered a small collection of critters-and-mannequins that enjoy its company.

Seeing how Aster argued so vehemently that keeping it imprisoned was morally wrong, and stupid to boot…Innit couldn’t help but get choked up by that.

The point of who is in its corner, from anyone else, would have pissed it off. But from Aster, who was using it to emphasize how little sense it made to keep Innit trapped– who had seen, at least in part, the misery and isolation and loneliness…

Well, honestly? It was kind of charming.

Not in, like– a romantic way. That’s reserved for whatever the fuck is going on with Aster and Daz the timeline that is being shown to its savior and new favorite person.

No, it had been more like a puppy or a kitten. Something small and cute, making stumbling steps towards doing a task they’ve not yet mastered.

Aster isn’t terrible at speaking to others, nor in swaying them to his side, granted. It’s just so obviously not his strong suit.

…Maybe Innit can help him with that. It knows that Daz has toed a fine line on that front, and definitely won’t be helping him out any time soon anyway.

But maybe Aster won’t hate it too much if it offers its skills for him.

Having a roommate will be nice. Aster might not be terribly touchy-feely, but Innit might be able to convince him to give it headpats sometimes if it plays its cards right.

Of course, that will probably go out the window once he realizes that he’s not seeing the future. He might become furious at it for hiding that information as long as it does– enough so to eject it from whatever comfort its eked out in his company.

But in the meantime…maybe they can bond over Daz being an asshole. And having the singularly unique experience of having been inside the bastard’s head– even if Aster’s has been for only brief blips.

How long did it spend dreaming of living a life of its own? How long did it console itself about how surely, once they were an admin, Daz and Dream would give it a body of its own?

It shaped itself to prepare for that day. The loss of that had been devastating, of course– but it had been willing to settle for death.

Death would have been a kind of freedom, and it would have been revenge. So it was okay.

But it lost that, too! It lost that, it lost even what scraps of agency it had.

Daz betrayed it. Daz caged it, let it scream and rot in a forgotten corner of his mind for so long that it lost itself to its hatred.

But now there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

Even if everyone else tells him no, Aster seems like he’s planning to use that wish to give it a body.

Something so precious and impossible, for a dream Innit had long since given up on.

The bastard and its savior parted ways not long after they returned from the place that the Showrunner had been in. The touch of their jointed hands had been almost as invigorating as Aster’s.

Despite the bastard seething with resentment, Innit is thrilled.

Aster can see the future, and the future he sees is one of kindness and joy. Not just for himself, not just for him and Daz– but for Innit, too.

It perks up as Asher scrambles up onto its chest. Its currently curled up in a nest of blankets, pillows, and other soft things. Its pretty sure that its friends keep adding to it, which is sweet.

Asher splays out on its chest, their little racoon paws papping delightedly at its face.

It feels like the floor falls out from under it.

Aster is seeing another timeline? Then– then that means that its freedom isn’t as set in stone as it thought.

He made that offer because he believed that it was going to be given freedom anyway. Sure, he feels pity, but–

But how much of that might change if he’s less sure it will work out? How long will it be forced to wait for him to decide if it deserves to be set free?

…What if he changes his mind entirely?

Maybe, maybe, maybe, being favored by the Showrunner will sway him. Maybe his sense of justice won’t let him turn his back on Innit.

Can it really count on that, though? It believed that Dream’s sense of justice was immutable, too– and yet it still warped and twisted into something monstrous all the same.

So telling him immediately is out of the question. And as long as it can keep him from backing out until its gotten its freedom, it can’t afford to be noble.

…It can tell him afterwards. Even if he uses the enchantment– because surely it’ll still be enchanted– to punish it for keeping that from him…

Well. He can’t do worse than what Daz already did.