infinitethree

[infinitethree]

Theo is so restless that he can't sit still.

The tangled mess of anxiety in his chest is almost making it hard to breathe.

He can’t remember the last time he felt like this. Most of his problems can be solved with a sword or through talking, but–

This time, it's all out of his hands. He can’t affect anything.

Maybe the last time he was this weak and useless was when he was facing down Darkza, then mutilated and forced to hear Dee be robbed of his wings.

A bluejay and a falcon. Dee's wings had been a beautiful chocolate color, sleek and silent. Theo's own had been vibrant and glorious, bringing him up above the clouds with his Dad.

Then those wings were taken from them by a cruel, vindictive man. So much was taken from them that day, and in the years to come.

The losses had been almost more than they could take.

But they escaped. They're free now– free to be happy, free to be safe.

Free to have actual friends, too. Maybe even a partner, someday.

Yet they're not really free, are they? They're entertainment for a pair of gods.

Gods who have proven themselves to be cruel and capricious.

He jumps when he hears a static-y laugh.

Oh, boy, aren't you just a ball of sunshine! 

Shit.

No need to look so dismayed. Or, well, you probably won't like this. So maybe it is justified!

Wary, he asks, “And…what can I help you with, Showrunner?”

Well, y'see, I'm a little peeved! A certain clever little mortal decided to make a deal with someone else! Can you believe the nerve of that?!

Fuck. He may have tried to appeal to The Scribe's ego, but he didn't account for The Showrunner taking offense.

He laughs nervously. “I…see. Uh– real…real fuckin’ bold, that mortal.”

Scribs wouldn't like it if I broke their mortal, so I can't show you the true meaning of terror.

Their voice is cold and bitter. The threat makes him shudder, wings curling around himself.

He's not stupid enough to think he'll escape their wrath entirely. 

Swallowing, he asks, “S– so…what happens, then?”

You're lucky, Theseus. Being bold is a quality I don't dislike. What's going to happen is that I'm going to make you an offer. You can refuse it…but we both know you won't.

AFTER ALL, I KNOW YOUR WEAKNESS. NOTHING SAYS I CAN'T MAKE THEM SUFFER IN YOUR PLACE.

His heart drops.

Fuck, fuck, fuck–

So, with that in mind, I'll be generous and give you a fancy warning system! You'll be able to check the bastard's mental health. In exchange, you won't be able to explain that side of the deal and you'll see both his and Aster’s lives! Oh, and they may see yours as well.

There could be infinitely worse terms.

He gives a bow, trying not to show his fear or anger. “...Thank you for your mercy. I'll accept, n’ remember not to overstep again.”

Hmph. See that you do that.

Theo feels the presence of the Showrunner fade, leaving just the observers.

He collapses onto his bed, almost dizzy with relief he wasn't subjected to worse.

Gods don't like their egos being bruised. He knew that, and yet–

Fuck, though. He may very well end up triggering Daz into another spiral.

Keeping it a secret won't help, so...

Well. He supposes he'll be talking with the two of them soon.

Great.

[infinitethree]

Daz can't help but be amused by Aster’s choice of date location.

“An aquarium,” he snorts, and his boyfriend almost seems to pout. “I looked up date ideas, and it was suggested!”

That, at least, is kind of charming. “Aww, you did research?”

Aster huffs at him, shoving something into his hands.

Oh, lord, he brought flowers.

Slowly, he turns his gaze from them to his red-faced boyfriend. “...Did you give me asters, Aster?” “...Maybe…” “And– goldenrod? Are these goldenrod?”

He's looked at blankly.

As cute as this is, Daz can't help but double over with laughter.

“I–! What, what's so funny?!”

He wheezes, “You– asters mean patience and elegance, for one!” “I– I forgot about flower meanings.” “Goldenrod are also known as solidago.”

It’s obvious that Aster isn’t aware of the hiccups with that fact.

“Growth, encouragement, good luck, good fortune–” “Those don't sound that bad.” “And caution.”

Aster looks dismayed. “But they're– little and stuff! They mean caution?!”

Deeply amused, Daz tells him, “More importantly, they’re Lucid’s flower.”

“...Fuck.”

Giggling to himself, Daz looks the sad bouquet over. It looks like Aster tried to make it himself, probably thinking it couldn't be that hard.

Even though it technically sends a really weird message, it's also incredibly charming. He must have put thought into it– just not the right kind of thought.

“You’re so sweet. I know what you meant.”

There are several rapid blinks, Aster asking him, “You– you do?” “Of course I do. Asters from Aster, mixed with yellow-colored goldenrods. You must have wracked your brain to find something just right. You even made the bouquet yourself. It's…”

He gives Aster a warm, genuine smile. “I might have laughed, but it’s also really cute of you. I love them.”

Aster chokes a little as Daz drags him into the aquarium. He links their arms together at the ticket booth, beaming at the person manning it. “Two, please!”

The expression on the Sapnap’s face is priceless. “...Are…you here on– on a dare?” “What? Don't be silly, we're on a date!”

He scans his card before either of them can recover. “It’s our first one! I even got flowers.”

Aster’s face is bright red, unable to look at the guy. “And you– you dressed up. It…looks nice. Uhm– y…you, look nice.”

As awkward as it is, Daz is once again deeply charmed by him.

He's clearly trying, even if he's not good at it yet.

It's a surprise that Aster noticed the change, actually; his usual breathable cotton shirts under butter yellow hoodies have been swapped for a short sleeve black turtleneck and grey-and-yellow pinstripe blazer.

His pants are still grey jeans, meaning he's not out of place next to Aster’s heretofore unseen polo shirt.

“You did, too. I'm pretty sure your shirt is new, right?” “...Yeah.”

Daz grins at him. “Silly to spend money on that now.” “I– don't follow…?”

He lowers his voice to a playful hum, telling his boyfriend, “I'm going to redo all of your clothes. I'll sulk for weeks if you wear someone else's work. Only mine.”

Tone returning to a normal chipper one, he adds, “But I haven't been clear enough about that yet, I guess! I'm going to be remaking all of your clothes and then some. You'll have a nice, big wardrobe made by your expert tailor boyfriend.”

Aster stares at him, mouth agape.

The reader chimes, so he takes his card back and steers his date inside.

“A– all of my clothes? But they work just fine–” “They can be improved. Also…it'll make me happy. It's a form of claiming, you know? A way for me to show how much I care. You're mine, Aster. That means I'm going to give you the best of the best. If I had enough free time, I'd be weaving the fabric, too.”

Taking the opportunity to take charge while Aster tries to wrap his head around it, he heads to his favorite area.

Axolotls swim around, playing with each other. A few of them break off and swim up to the glass near them– a blatant show of favoritism, since they're not the only people in the room.

He has no doubt they're instinctively drawn to him, either because he's a mod or because San likes him so much.

It's something he's used to by now. Mobs, especially animals, gravitate towards him.

At least axolotls are a hell of a lot cuter than other ones; any venture into areas with hostile mobs renders him a target.

Even cows and sheep can be a headache, given their bulk.

Wiggling his fingers at the cuties, he coos, “Hi, little guys! How nice of you to say hello.”

Aster, to his credit, manages to clock the situation faster than Daz thought he would. “You've been here before.”

“It’s been a while though,” Daz tells him. “Plus you'd have trouble finding somewhere I haven't been. I check out places to be able to add them to the database. You could have taken me anywhere from the movies to blackjack to a strip club and I'd have been there.”

It’s actually a problem, because he’s desperately tried to convince people to willingly submit their new businesses for the database. There’s a fucking reward system, and yet nobody bothers!

He’s even tried adding it into orientation, and yet it did nothing. Why the fuck do none of them want the free money he’s trying to hand them?! 

Disbelieving, Aster echoes, “You've been to a strip club?” “I was curious what it was like, I was curious if I'd enjoy myself, and I wasn't going to ask one of the others to do it for me. Weirdchamp thing for a boss to ask you to do, and I try to have some idea of the places in the database.”

The others might give him shit for some of his actions, but he does still have lines he won’t cross.

The stare gets more intense. “And?”

“I didn't care for it. Kind of boring, honestly? I decided that I'd exclude that genre of establishment from my research.”

He'll choke down shitty food, but he's pretty sure it wasn't fun for anyone involved to have him politely disinterested at even what's supposedly one of the nicer strip clubs.

One of your few smart decisions. It was weird.

It was awkward and uncomfortable. He couldn't see any appeal, at which point he just kind of assumed he had no interest in anything of that nature.

Now, he's reconsidering that he might just be…selective.

Aster seems to relax a little.

…Was he jealous?

Leaning against his boyfriend's side, he teases, “Now, if you want to put on that kind of show for me–” “Daz.” “I'm just saying, it'd be way more likely to do something for me.” 

“I don't appreciate being mocked.”

The quiet mutter makes him scoff softly. “Teasing, sure, but mocking? You're being silly. Almost as silly as you sulking at the idea of me liking the sight of anyone else like that.”

Consider the third person that's going to get tangled up in your bullshit.

No, actually, he will not be doing that. Innit can fuck off and stop providing unwanted commentary!

Aster makes an affronted noise, protesting, “I was not sulking.” “You relaxed when I said I didn't like it.” “That– that's not sulking.” “If I had said yes you definitely would have sulked.” “Daz.”

He grins, twining their fingers together. “Yes, honey?” “You’re giving me mixed signals.” “Oh? How so?”

Heaving a sigh, Aster explains, “You– keep laughing at me, then calling me cute or sweet. You got– kind of possessive, and then mocked me for not liking the idea of you looking at someone else.”

Daz’s eyes widen as Aster cups the side of his face. “Drape me in your work, fuel me with your cooking, curl up in my arms every night…but don't laugh when I want to have some part of you that's all mine.”

He breathes out, head fuzzy from instincts, “Yours.”

A pleased smile curls on Aster’s mouth as his thumb runs just under Daz’s cheekbone. “Mm-hmm. You’re mine, just like I'm yours.”

Daz sways against him, clinging to Aster for support. Aster hums, his arms circling around his middle. “You look drunk.”

“Instincts,” he mumbles into his partner's shoulder.

He can feel how much Aster likes that answer. “Just hearing that wrecks your brain?” “Affirmation of bond. Feels– warm. Accepting. Good.”

There's another hum. “Makes me wonder if you'll be able to walk after I give you a claim.”

Definitely not. Tell him not to do it before I'm free, I don’t want to be there if things get weird.

Instead of bothering with that, Daz asks, “You’re– have you started it yet?” “...No. But I– I mean, I want it to be special. Using the ones we've seen feels like cheating. I have some ideas, though. I– uhm, I want to be sure it's right. I know it's really important, so…”

He tilts his head to be able to study Aster’s expression.

It's such a familiar face, but the look on it– subtle for most but clear as day to anyone familiar with him– isn't.

Warm. Fond. Like nothing exists but the two of them in this moment.

Reluctantly, he pulls back a little. He wants to stay like that, but Daz is aware they're in public.

This is already going to cause a firestorm of gossip and rumors as it is. Daz can handle it– has handled worse– but he doesn’t want to totally ruin Aster’s peace of mind.

Instead, he twines their fingers together again. Bringing it up and kissing the back of Aster’s scarred hand, he says, “We can plan on a day to give them to each other. I'm– it's going to wreck my ability to do much of anything. I will tell you that I am going to be weaving for it, though.”

Aster seems surprised. “You will?” “It's important. I can…”

For a moment, he hesitates. He usually doesn't want others around, and it's important to him to have some secrecy.

But at the same time…

“I haven't– haven't done it in a while. If you want to watch me while I get familiar with it again…”

A wide grin spreads across his boyfriend's face. “Yeah– yeah! I'd– I'd really like that. Will you let me watch you work on an endless number of undershirts for me, too?”

He scoffs. “You’re thinking too small. Once I'm happy with one, I'll just copy it to a suitable number. It's my own work, my time is valuable, and if Aver whines about fabric I can throw more money at him.”

That seems to take Aster by surprise. As they meander through the aquarium, his boyfriend asks, “That makes sense to me, but I know you're worried about perceived abuse of power.” “Anyone else who wants to complain is first required to handle at least one fourth of what I get done in an average day. It serves nobody's interest for me to make the same thing a dozen times. I've already been doing it for my own stuff, anyway.”

The reflection of the water shows on Aster’s face as they watch dolphins playing. A few of them come closer, showing off and vying for his attention.

“I’m surprised you decided that was fine,” Aster notes.

After a moment, Daz admits, “You get used to taking certain shortcuts. Even if you break them, it’s easy to fall back into the habit.”

A shadow passes over Aster’s eyes, his hand squeezing Daz’s.

It’s a gentle squeeze, though; careful and measured, in spite of whatever Aster just saw. He knows his own strength, and knows how to make sure he only hurts what he intends to.

He can tell that Aster saw something, though. There’s always a subtle shift in his expression, and it makes it easy to tell.

Instead of commenting on it, Aster instead tells him, “If you start making a whole wardrobe for me without making anything for Lee or Raine, I’m pretty sure they’ll kill both of us.” “You’d get wrecked by Lee, of course, but mostly because you’d sooner take the L than hurt him. Raine, though…I mean. C’mon, now.”

“I feel like he’d be insulted if he heard that.” “He’d be delusional if he thought he could beat you in combat. Even with a perfect trap, I just…don’t think that’s possible.” “I can think of a scenario where he could,” Aster chuckles.

With the sidelong glance and faint quirk of his boyfriend’s lips, Daz knows immediately that he means that it’d be possible if Daz was involved.

Pleased, he answers, “You’re so sweet.” “You don’t get enough credit for how capable you are. Prime help us if you ever use that against us.” “Aww, you’ll make me blush,” Daz giggles, leaning into his side again.

The gossip spawned from tonight is going to dominate the minds and mouths of Sanctuary for at least a month. Like it or not, both of them are capital-I Important. They serve in very public roles doing very public good.

The server knows them and their habits– or at least thinks they do– and this is going to feel like a radical departure from that.

Aster surely knows this. He might not be the kind of schemer that Daz is, but he’s not stupid. If nothing else, he’s surely aware of how much everyone gossips just based off of how much Daz has bitched about it over the years.

Thus, his boyfriend is clearly exploiting the rumor mill on his behalf! Aster is setting him up as being capable, something that people will take notice of.

Aster’s own reputation means his words on such things carry weight.

There’s no way that’s intentional. You’re reading too much into it.

Spitefully, Daz murmurs in Aster’s ear, “You’re doing this on purpose, right?”

The corner of Aster’s mouth twitches upwards. “I think you’ve been underestimated for too long, is all.”

He’s definitely enjoying the subtle, almost subconscious flex of power that Aster is using. The renown that Daz half-bullied him into obtaining is now being used to make Daz feel all the more special.

His instincts pulse in the back of his head, making him grin back at him. “I’m so tempted to kiss you right now.”

Face turning red, Aster mutters, “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” “Why do you think I’m lying?”

Turning towards him to look into his eyes, Aster answers, “There’s no way that you would want to kiss me for the first time in public. You’re already acting tipsy. You’d never make it worse by doing something with so many unknowns in a place like this.”

Gods, the way that Aster is right makes Daz wants to prove him wrong.

Evidently sensing that, his boyfriend turns a little more red. “Please don’t risk me needing to cancel the rest of my plans to literally carry you home.” “But–” “If you’re going to kiss me, shouldn’t you make sure I did a good job first? You might hate what else I planned on.”

If it was given as much thought as everything so far, that’s impossible.

The effort is clumsy, but all the more endearing for it. Aster so obviously has no experience with anything remotely like this– not that Daz doubted that, of course– but is still trying so hard.

It’s exactly what he needed. He’s spent so long planning and scheming that…he finds himself willingly, eagerly helpless in the face of this kind of awkward care.

“This is amazing,” he finds himself answering. “I– I know you did a good job.” “Really?” “Really. It’s…just right. I don’t need perfection, not from you. You did research for me. You made me a bouquet. You bought clothes, even! I…I’m really happy.”

Aster lights up, clearly pleased with that praise. “Good. That’s all I wanted. You deserve it– deserve happiness. Even if you can’t believe it yet…I’ll wait for you to accept it.”

Good god, get me out of here and find a fuckin’ room. In that order, don’t you dare try the other way around.

Really not Daz’s fault that Innit keeps trying to stir the pot rather than focus on the task of crafting a body that won’t end up with one or both of them dead.

Which it really should be aware of. Its causing its own hell, so maybe it should be quiet and tune this all out.

Aka, if it doesn’t shut the fuck up and stop third wheeling Daz’s date, he is going to turn into a petty little bitch and bother it right back.

Despite Innit sulking and huffing in his head, he says, “You’re right, though; kissing you can wait. I’d hate to ruin your plans! Besides, this is too public for that.”

Aster nods, looking at once relieved and ever so slightly disappointed.

“You know,” his boyfriend says, “I can’t help but notice that all of the animals keep swimming over to us.”

Oh, he was wondering how long it’d take for him to notice. “Yeah, that’s normal. All mobs kinda just– gravitate towards me? I’m pretty sure it’s ‘cause San likes me. It uh…causes some problems. At least with hostile mobs.”

“Wait– how long has this been–?” “Mm,” Daz says, sucking in the air through his teeth. “I dunno, kinda the whole time I’ve been here? I’ve always been good with animals, though. They just– cooperate? Are nice, I guess…?”

With a shrug, he watches as various marine life linger nearby before eventually moving on. Usually, once mobs see him for a bit, they’re content to continue with their usual routines. “Piglins really like me, too. Then again, I mean, I wear a ton of gold.”

Aster hums in agreement, brow subtly creased. “You do.” 

There’s a short pause, and then Daz feels scarred fingers gently rub the piercings of one of his ears. “I think you should try some new shapes, though.”

“L– like…?” “I think a silver star would be nice. Maybe with a piece of basalt in the middle, yeah? It’d be a nice compliment for your actual item.”

Daz’s breath hitches. “You’re going to make me want to do more for you.” “Then I’ll double down until you run out of things to do.”

A laugh bubbles out of him. “Are– are you seriously getting competitive over that?” “Maybe,” Aster hums.

It’s obvious that his boyfriend is enjoying flirting with him, and Daz finds that he’s enjoying it too.

The attention of someone he cares about being focused on him in such a public way is absolutely intoxicating.

Despite Daz having to push him to have a date at all, Aster seems to be making the most of it and making his intentions very, very, very clear.

Daz…has gotten used to a certain type of hunger. Of being touch starved; of his admin soul thrashing against his netherite-willed refusal to harm the people he still struggles to admit he cares for.

It’s still new and startling not to flinch away from the thought that he does care for them. He keeps starting to try and bargain with the curse– try to convince it that there’s no true connection in much the same way he was able to argue with his enchantment– before remembering that he doesn’t need to.

Before remembering that there is no curse. He’s free to love and be loved, and such a thing is so alien that it almost hurts.

A good kind of hurt, though. It's not unlike lancing a boil; the misery as you force the infection out, and then the bruised skin that's left behind.

This ache is a good ache. He’s flushing the toxins out of his body, mind, and soul, leaving behind…

Well, Daz isn't normal and never will be. But despite the long-festering wounds inside of him, maybe he can reach a state that could be called healthy.

“Boss?!”

Daz startles out of his thoughts as they’re approached by a Dream Team trio he immediately clocks as part of the Swords and Shields.

Kind of hard not to, given they're all wearing the earcuffs identifying its members.

“Holy shit, you’re at an aquarium?” “I thought you hated stuff like this,” the Dream notes. “You said it sounded boring.”

Aster clears his throat, still awkward as ever in situations like this. “I…might have said that, yeah.”

Daz squeezes his boyfriend's arm, leaning against his side to pout, “You took me somewhere you think is boring?! Star.”

“It’s not–! I didn’t know for sure, and I was–”

Seeing him flounder like this, a flash of panic in his eyes, is maybe a little too entertaining.

With a tone like he's making a joke, the George scoffs, “Took you here? What, like a date?”

Daz beams at him, wishing he could kill all of them for intruding. “Got it in one! I got flowers and everything. He even got a new shirt, which I told him was silly ‘cause I'll be remaking all his clothes soon–”

“Pfft, yeah, right.”

He lets his smile fade until his expression is entirely serious. Staring at them with wide eyes, he says in an even, almost warning tone, “I'm not kidding.”

Because Aster isn’t an idiot, he intervenes before Daz takes things any further. “He's not. We're dating. This is our first one, actually.”

Evidently concerned about him, Aster turns his head to study him. Threading their fingers together, he murmurs, “It’s going to take some getting used to. We knew this.”

“I don't like being called a liar about things I take seriously,” Daz mutters. “Especially when we were already…I've been making food for you for almost a month. And we– you've been helping me with my…problem.”

He's tugged forward into a hug, even though Aster must know part of this is just him being pissy they were interrupted.

“Other people don't really know about that, though,” his boyfriend gently points out. “We've both been extremely firm about being aro/ace, too. It makes sense that others would be confused.”

Sullenly, he slides his arms over Aster’s shoulders and presses his mouth to his shoulder. “But it's annoying,” he mutters, willing the interlopers to fuck off already.

“I– uhm, yeah, what the boss said,” the Dream stammers, seeming the most uneasy out of the trio.

Makes sense, given he had been in a rough place with his original Tommy.

None of this group came from the same world, instead having formed a bond within the Swords and Shields.

Aster sighs softly, carding a hand through Daz’s hair. He can’t help but sink against him, relaxing from the familiar motion.

Then his boyfriend leans in to murmur, “I planned on us doing Bedwars after this. You want to drag them there and let them see how well we work together?”

Daz perks up, pulling back just enough to grin widely at him. Leave it to Aster to know exactly how to lift his spirits. “Date saved! Let's do that, please.”

He extracts himself from Aster in order to turn to the trio. “Because you were jerks and interrupted our date and called me a liar, you're going to come play Bedwars with us! Then we'll be even.”

The George protests, “How is that fair?!” 

“If you don't want to do that, it's okay! I'll just hold a grudge and exact revenge in less obvious, immediate, and stoppable ways.”

With a giggle, Daz says, “Gosh, did you know that I, like– know a whole lot of people? It'd be suuuuuper easy for me to make a few calls and kinda just–”

He mimes an explosion, complete with a sound effect.

“--y'know? I don’t usually use my connections for that kinda stuff, buuuuuuuut for this? Mm…yeah, no. Be it a tithe of bruises or a tithe of gossip, you will pay for this.”

Aster warns, “I'm not going to be able to stop whatever he starts. If you have any sense at all, you'll just come play the damn game. Then, at least, you'll get a chance to see Daz in action.”

Bright and bubbly, Daz giggles, “Surely my nosy juniors want to know just how good I am, right?”

“I’ve heard rumors the only person good enough to spar with you is Aster,” the Sapnap says, clearly doubtful. “And didn't you join after us–?”

“Daz was an early member, he just never came into the training hall,” Aster tells them.

Ever-so casually, Aster rubs the shield charm on Daz’s earcuff.

Maybe, one day, he'll wear his real one. For now…he still needs to keep some secrets.

“I was there for the Blind Man’s Bluff game, you do not want to fight him,” the Dream mutters. “It was– it was like he was hacking!”

Again, Aster says, “If he decides to retaliate, I can’t do anything about it. Not just because we’re dating but, I mean–” “You’re still mad about the Among Us games, huh?” “So mad.”

Daz grins at his partner’s sullen expression. “I’ll make it up to you later?” “You could make it up to me now.”

He laughs, bright and cheerful. “Oh, Star…you don’t want me to make it up to you here. There are witnesses, yeah? I thought we agreed to save that for when we’re alone.”

Adorably, red spreads across Aster’s cheeks and his gaze skitters away. “I– uhm. Didn’t think you meant– that.”

“You can be embarrassed,” the Sapnap says, like that’s an alien concept. “He’s all shy at the thought of getting a kiss! It’s so sweet, and I’m going to abuse that fact ‘cause I love this side of him,” Daz giggles.

“Daz,” Aster squawks, staring at him in minor horror. “Yes, dear?” “Do you have to be like this?” “You know the answer to that,” he hums, idly twirling a strand of his own hair around a finger.

Because he’s staring at his boyfriend, he sees the exact moment that he decides to get even. Chin kicking up, Aster tells him, “I’m going to carve a bracelet for you and I will need multiple tries to make sure it’s perfect. So while you’re plotting all those clothes, make sure anything you make for yourself shows off your wrists. Mine, too, obviously.”

His brain breaks a little.

“You’re– doing a bracelet?” “Mm-hmm.” “For me. I’m getting a bracelet from you?” “And I’m going to carve it myself. I bet I can get help for the stones and any metal, because I know it’s important that I do the work on my own.”

Oh. Oh.

Warmth fills his chest so much it’s hard to breathe. He almost feels dizzy from it, from–

Love, maybe? He’s not sure; he’s not entirely positive he’s capable of that feeling.

A pair of hands cup his face, and Aster smiles ever so gently at him. “You like the sound of that?”

He nods, unable to find words.

“Good. Are you even able to think right now?”

He shakes his head.

“Even better. That clever admin brain getting wrecked was the entire point of saying it,” Aster hums. He’s clearly pleased, his thumbs running over Daz’s cheeks with unexpected tenderness.

Meekly, he nuzzles one of his boyfriend’s palms. “M’ yours?” “For as long as you’ll have me.”

The idea of rejecting him makes his chest sting. He mutters, “You’re mine now, too. Goes both ways.”

Aster snorts, smile growing. He teases, “It’s really unfair how cute you are like this, Daz.” “Mmh?” “It’s…I dunno. You looking at me like this, all– all sweet and vulnerable…makes me want to give in to your every whim.”

Right now, the only thing he wants is to be as clingy as possible. Eyes getting bigger, he pleads, “Then let’s go home? Takeout and a movie sounds really nice.”

“...On one condition.”

At this point, he’d do anything.

Aster turns his head, and Daz abruptly remembers that they have an audience.

…An audience that has actually grown a fair bit since this all started.

“Forgive them, and you’ll get all the cuddles you want. I’d be very sad if you tainted our first date by getting revenge for people not immediately realizing it’s a date.”

You should tell him no. Revenge is more important than anything else.

Damnit. Daz huffs, “I– fine, sure. Forgiveness, or whatever. You said you couldn’t do anything if I retaliated–” “Technically still the case. I’m acting preemptively, though, which is different. Damage control before the damage. Or, well, more damage than people realizing you’re not as innocent as you seem.”

“We have mandatory therapy for a reason,” he points out. “Very much not the point, Daz.”

Rolling his eyes, Daz shoves his wrist upwards. “Shut. I’m getting my cuddles, damnit, and now I’m going to pick where we eat from.” “Oh no, what a terrible price to pay,” Aster snorts, “you taking the task I have no idea how to do from me and I get to watch you be clingy. Truly, the worst timeline.”

“I know where you sleep.” “No shit, it’s literally next to you!”

Annoyed, Daz keys in the coordinates for his own home.

Aster stumbles, but quickly catches himself. “Did– wait, you teleported us?!” “Yeah, duh? Our business there was done, we decided to come home. Teleportation is a perk of my station, I’m going to use it when I don’t feel like dealing with annoying situations. Other people can set up stasis chambers anyway, it’s not like I did much different.”

His boyfriend opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again to say, “I– I guess? I still think it’s a bit–” “If you keep debating, I’ll pick the movie,” Daz warns.

“Is now a bad time to admit I don’t really know any movies? And, uh, kind of trust your opinion more…?”

The sheepish admission does make Daz snort.

You know, he had more things planned. You kinda ruined everything by being weird.

Annoyed, he hisses, “Will you stop?! You're the one who keeps wanting to indulge in drama, so shut the fuck up! Let me have my date in peace, asshole!”

“Didn't you two leave like, less than an hour ago? Daz, did you set something on fire?”

He grumbles in displeasure at the realization that Raine is lounging in the den.

Aster sighs. “We came home early. Daz’s brain kept getting wrecked from instincts. Aaand he was about to start throwing punches because someone asked why I was there.”

“Bold to think I wouldn't shank them.”

Raine's head tilts. “...So, out of curiosity–”

He's startled when Aster cups his face in both hands. Staring into his eyes, his boyfriend hums, “It’s kind of a relief that you wanted to just watch a movie and have takeout instead of the rest of what I had planned. Not only do I not have to worry about fucking up, but I don’t have to share this– this weirdly adorable side of you.”

Warmth blooms on his cheeks, his body swaying forward a little. “Mm. I just– it's hard to think. Or act. You keep…doing it on purpose. I'm– half tempted to just…order from somewhere we can get drinks…”

“Absolutely not. Do not get double drunk. Just because I can carry you home–” “You have a bed, too.”

Aster chokes a little, seeming at a loss for words.

What, is it that weird? They sleep in Daz’s bed, but Aster’s is somehow more intimate?

He doesn't understand.

Raine breaks in with a baffled, “This is weirder than I expected. I regret asking. Do I need to, like– go somewhere else tonight?”

“No,” Daz says, right as Aster says, “Yes.”

They stare at each other.

“Aren't we going to your house?” “That– okay, yeah, I kind of forgot that was an option. It's– small, though, and–” “Small means cozy.” “My bed is tiny.” “Ehh. I used to sleep on a couch. Your bed can't be that bad.”

There's a soft flinch, likely because Aster has seen just how tiny it was.

Daz tells him, “But getting drunk was a joke. You're free to cradle me in your arms all the way back to my room–”

With a soft whistle, Raine notes, “I've never seen you blush before. Fascinating that you're capable of doing that.” “So sue me, Daz is– he's good at making me feel all…flustered.”

“It’s my new favorite thing to do, I think. I'm pretty sure flirting is– oh, shit, right, let me put the flowers in something!”

As Daz locates an old vase he doesn't remember when or why he got, he senses Raine give Aster a confused look.

Whatever unanswered question he has is answered by Daz putting water in the vase and then carefully transferring his bouquet into it.

“...You got flowers. You brought flowers to Daz,” their mutual friend says slowly, seeming not to be able to process that fact.

He gushes, “Aster brought me asters! And also goldenrod.” “That…isn't that one taken?” “Solidago, Lucid’s flower. But it's really cute that he thought so hard about it! He got a new shirt, too. It was– clumsy, and awkward, and I'm like five seconds from kissing him.”

Aster slumps onto a nearby stool, burying his face in his arms. “Please stop teasing me about that.” “Still barely a joke.”

“Y'know what,” Raine says, abruptly heading for the stairs. “I'm gonna go– uh, it's early enough that Khons and Aleph are probably awake still…? Or maybe I can go hang out with Theo.”

“Theo is dealing with some rough emotions right now,” Aster admits, wincing when Daz levies him with a suspicious look.

Slowly, his boyfriend admits, “Theo might have– look, I swear I didn't do anything crazy or obvious! But, uh, well…he kind of guessed exactly what we've been seeing. Soooo��I didn't feel right just– just lying to him about it when we were already gonna come clean soon.”

Is that why he's been so nice? Hah!

A little growl rises up from his chest. “And?” “He doesn't– it feels weird. He doesn't want to feel like he's your enemy, but more importantly, he just…doesn’t even know if he does want it.”

Daz’s sight is overtaken by the future versions of both Aster and Theo gently swaying in place. Twin little girls are nestled safely in their arms, old enough to be able to cling to their dads but young enough that they must weigh nothing.

Soft, cooing noises slip out of Theo. Avian sounds? There's a little chirp from the one future-Aster is holding, making future-Theo melt with blatant adoration.

Future-Aster laughs, “What, what did she say?” “She called me Dad,” Theo says, kissing the little girl's fluffy golden hair.

She trills, swapping to clinging to Theo. The other girl chirps the same way, trading with her twin to hang on to Aster.

“That's right, Aurora. We're both your Dads. Your poor Mama is taking a well-deserved break–” “We had to fuckin’ negotiate with him so he'd take a nap. You'd think he's raising you two alone.”

Aster snorts, cuddling the little girl– Aurora– and teases, “They won't understand how stubborn he is.” “That'll change real fuckin’ fast.” “I dunno– we're not exactly slouches in that regard.” “Meaning…?”

Aster grins, kissing Aurora's chubby cheek. “Our kids have so much stubbornness in them that it might beat our husband.”

Daz blinks, brow furrowed as he processes what he just saw.

“...How the fuck does that happen,” he mutters, baffled at the prospect of– what, kids with all three of their genes?

Heaving a sigh, Aster admits, “I– I saw that we have three kids. Twin girls and a boy. The girls have bluejay wings.”

…He doesn't follow.

“Theo’s wings were bluejay wings. His original ones, the ones that were taken from him. When I mentioned we have kids with bluejay wings– just, talking out loud, wondering who the surrogate is–”

Ah. “That's how he realized.” “Mhm. I– I didn't want to keep it a secret, I just…didn't want to ruin the date. I promise I was going to tell you tomorrow at the latest.”

Surprisingly, Aster seems genuinely concerned…and utterly sincere.

Is he really that worried about ruining the day?

He laughs softly, despite himself. He really can't bring himself to be mad at him over this.

“You did still break the agreement,” he notes.

Aster deflates. “I just– couldn't lie to his face when he already figured it out.”

He hums, “I'll have to punish you.”

Heaving a sigh, Aster shoves a hand through his hair. Tone defeated, he admits, “I– I deserve that.”

Daz tilts his chin up with two fingers. He tells his boyfriend, “We'll go on a date to a nice restaurant. You'll wear something fancy– really dress up for it. That means that one of the first things I make for you will be a suit. I expect you to wear it more than once, hmm?”

As Aster’s eyes go wide, Daz leans in and purrs, “The Christmas gala. You'll be wearing it there, too. I bet you clean up nicely– nice enough that it makes me the envy of the rest of the server.”

Swallowing hard, Aster stammers, “I– they'll be too busy being jealous of me. I mean…you're you. It’s– they probably already…”

Adorably, Aster’s face has turned red.

His boyfriend abruptly shoots his arm out, catching a pillow that was heading right towards them.

As Aster looks at the object in confusion, Raine huffs, “Get a room! I'm right here, and this is weird! Stop– being gross, and flirting like that right in front of me! Sure, I think you two should bang–” Daz chokes on nothing, and Aster turns tomato red, “--but I don’t need to be subjected to this nonsense in my own damn home!”

“I– you think we should–?”

Raine stares at Aster, then pointedly gestures to Daz. “He might chill the fuck out. Maybe.”

Affronted, Daz protests, “My problems are not that easy to fix!” “Says the guy who didn't bother to use the direct line to a god to ask if he’s actually cursed. And who has quite noticeably calmed down after allowing himself to admit he's gotten attached. Oh, and who now actually sleeps.”

Uhg. He hates that those are valid points.

Still, though. “Aster would probably explode if we did that anytime soon. If I don't take it slow, he might have a heart attack.”

I refuse to be stuck in here during that. Make sure I'm free first or you'll regret it.

“Innit is voicing objections as well. Technically, its making threats, but that’s besides the point. Doing anything before giving it a body would be unethical.”

Raine stares at him. Daz stares back.

Slowly, his best friend says, “I'm not going to engage with this further. It's pointless.” “Of course it is.”

He turns to Aster, who seems shell shocked. ��C'mon, let's go to your place and finish our date.”

There's a little nod, and Aster allows himself to be dragged away.

[infinitethree]

Hi hello! I'm here now too XD In case my user didn't tell you who I was, I'm that reader who has been spamming your comments recently.

Completely off topic to anything that is happening on the blog (I didn't start catching up yet), do you think this song somewhat fits Daz's universe to an extent?

https://youtu.be/YCKfg6kHKTg?si=CWqIvw9ya34KUeda

OOC::

Ooh, yes, very Daz-coded! Also adding it to my folder of songs to grab.

And yeah, you have the same name both places! I figured it was you. I was kinda surprised to see you send something here bc you're not through SwSh&B yet, but sending a song makes sense haha!

[infinitethree]

Aster gets the distinct impression that the Showrunner is upset at him.

That, or they just think that making him lose to Theo five times in less than an hour is the height of comedy.

He curses to himself, rubbing his throat– leave it to Theo to go for his neck so often– as he flops onto a nearby bench.

His best friend seems concerned. Given he’s come over to the training area in Summer Hills instead of working his anxiety out at the training hall, that’s a fair response.

“You’re kinda shit today,” Theo notes.

Instead of thinking about how he keeps seeing visions of what they’ll look like at some point– candy-sweet domestic bliss, the three of them obviously in love and enjoying every moment of it– he grumbles, “So sue me for being distracted.”

Theo shifts, his wings flicking anxiously. “...Trouble in fuckin’ paradise already?”

“What? No, we’re going on a date tonight. Everything is fine with us.”

Why the fuck would Theo assume things were bad with Daz?

He reminds his friend, “He didn’t see me cheating on him with you.” “You’re both being real fuckin’ cagey about it, so…I dunno, I feel like you’re both lying.”

Aster winces. “I mean…Daz is, uh. Needing…some time. To admit it. ‘Cause it’s– kind of a lot.”

“That’s so fuckin’ sus,” Theo groans, plopping onto the bench next to him. “The fuck does he have to be concerned about?”

More than Theo can ever fathom. “...Future might have changed,” he says, knowing Daz might get mad at him for admitting even that much.

Theo looks concerned. “D’you two not get–” “No, we– we do. It’s…” he chews on his lip.

This is such a dangerous path. The fuck can he even do to appease Daz, assuming he missteps?

“We’re– we still get married,” he finally settles on.

His friend’s head cocks to the side. “Then why the fuckin’ weirdchamp shit?”

It seems like Theo listens to the Fates, because he frowns. “Kid you two have still exists, right? I was kinda interested in being an uncle.”

Aster blinks, and he’s in another vision.

He boggles at the sight of not one, but three kids flinging themselves at future-Theo.

Two girls, one younger boy. The girls both have gorgeous bluejay-like wings, though the boy doesn’t.

Future-Theo scoops all three into his arms, beaming at them. “Kids!” “Dad, dad! Doctor Aryll said my wings are gonna come in soon!”

Visibly thrilled, Future-Theo asks, “Yeah? You ready to go flying with your old man, uncles, n’ grandpa?” “Yep! Grandpa keeps saying he can teach me if you don’t wanna, though.”

“Dad can fuck off, you’re my kids. I’m gonna teach you all myself,” Future-Theo grumbles.

Future-Daz teases, “You sulk every time he brings it up.” “He had his fuckin’ turn, n’ again– my kids,” Future-Theo complains.

The future version of Aster snorts, “And here we were, thinking you’d be less overprotective.” “Shut. Now, Boreas, did Aryll say about how much longer it’d be?”

And that’s all that Aster gets.

He stares into space, and then says, “Three?!”

“Huh?” “Three kids, with wings! Who the fuck even– I don’t even know anyone with bluejay wings, let alone a woman,” Aster groans, raking a hand through his hair.

Theo freezes. “You two have kids with fuckin’ bluejay wings?” “Apparently!” “That’s…”

His friend’s brow furrows. It’s like he’s trying to put the pieces together.

“...Aster, if I fuckin’ guess what you saw, you’d tell me if I’m right– right?”

…Fuck. If he guesses directly, it’d be kind of a dick move to say no.

He grimaces. “Uh…maybe. It– yeah. If it’s…close enough. Daz just– needs some time, so–”

Theo grabs his shoulders, making him jolt in surprise.

Hands gripping him tightly, Theo demands, “You two keep fuckin’ seeing me with you, don’t you? N’ that’s why you’re both being so fuckin’ weird about it.”

Damnit.

He averts his gaze. “Please don’t say anything to Daz. He’s– uh, he’s actually deeply insecure. I had to strongarm him into telling you after a week, so…”

A noise of distress escapes Theo, whose head thunks onto his shoulder.

Aster frowns. “Theo?”

“...Three kids, huh?” “...Yeah. I– it looks like you’re really happy to be their dad.” “Never fuckin’ pictured myself in a…marriage? We get married?”

“Seems like it. We all have earcuffs that look like wedding jewelry.” “Bet Dad’d love being a grandpa.”

Awkwardly, Aster pats his back. “He apparently kept offering-slash-threatening to teach them how to fly–” “Absolutely fuckin’ not, I’d teach my kids myself,” Theo snaps, sounding affronted.

“Which you got mad about.”

A grumble escapes Theo, who seems sullen.

After a moment, his best friend asks, “So…what if I’m– not really fuckin’...sure about that?” “As in?”

Theo pulls back, seeming uncharacteristically serious. “I dunno that I really want to get into a– relationship. Feels…weird. N’ with both of you…”

Aster resists the pang of hurt he feels. It’s not even like he seriously considered it before, so it doesn’t shock him that Theo is hesitant.

He shrugs. “I mean– things changed once, right? So…enough time and big enough ripples, they’ll probably change again.”

“N’ if you see something where you’re not with Daz?”

That feels impossible. “Then I’ll fight against that future. I’m pretty set on being with him now. Even if the details change, I want to be at his side. He’s complicated and deeply traumatized, but…I think I like the futures I’ve seen with him. I think I like seeing him so happy to be with me, too.”

With a snort, he adds, “And, uh, I’m kinda hooked on his cooking? It’s– it’s really nice, actually. I’m not really used to food being so…thought about. Or sharing it like that with someone else. He keeps threatening to make clothes for me, too, which is sweet.”

In this new future, Daz has a carved bangle that’s clearly from Aster. Given the disparity between the two timelines, maybe it’d be better to just…make something similar but different.

Enough to prove he’s not being lazy about it, and whatnot.

Daz would probably cry if he gave him something like that. The insecurity would ease, because he’d be proving that he’s not discarding Daz for Theo.

Assuming it ever happens, Aster would accept nothing less than all three of them being on equal footing in the relationship.

“He’s a good guy, though. Even if you decide not to be with us like that…he’d still end up basically your brother in law. You might as well get to know him better.”

Theo sighs deeply. “It’s…yeah, I fuckin’ guess. Just– weird. Didn’t think any of us would ever…”

A flash of annoyance shoots through Aster. “Apparently, people keep asking him out.”

“...Daz?”

Aster rolls his eyes. “According to him, he turns people down all the time. Something about being the primary support for refugees?”

Theo grimaces. “Ah…yeah, the hero worship shit. When you put it like that…yeah, I fuckin’ know what that's like. Kinda annoying, actually? N’ I guess he did mention he has to fuckin'-- turn people down a lot…”

Uhg, right. “True, you have a lot of experiences with people asking you out.” “Lots've ‘em in life-or-death situations, too! Weird as shit.”

His friend squints. “Wait, didn't you say he's stupid fuckin’ rich?” “I didn't know it was possible for anyone to have as much money as he does.” “N’ he's a good cook.” “Better than your dad, and I don't say that lightly.” “N’ powerful as fuck in a bunch've ways.”

…Goddamnit, he's starting to see Theo's angle. “Fuck, he's actually a crazy good catch. I mean, I knew he was– really great, but not everyone has seen what I have. So I just– I guess, subconsciously, I assumed nobody else has thought about it…?”

Theo snorts, but his amusement quickly turns serious. “Aster…man, you know you can't walk away, right? If you choose him, I mean. If Daz is so fuckin’ fragile he tried to kill himself over what you were seeing…? I don't wanna fuckin’ know how hard he'd snap if you left.”

Theo sounds genuinely concerned.

As much as Aster knows he's right to make sure the stakes are clear…it stings to think that Theo would assume he would abandon Daz.

“We're both loyal to the death. I've seen a softer side to him lately– a side I want to keep seeing. I'm not planning on leaving. I– I've seen what abandonment does to admins. To him.”

A cold sweat runs down his spine at the thought of how Daz tore himself in half to be good enough for his own family.

If Aster broke his heart, the best case scenario would be if Daz became his mortal enemy.

Worst case scenario…Daz would seek the ultimate refuge.

Even if that wasn't the case, he would shatter everything about himself to become whoever, whatever, Aster wanted.

Because Daz is lonely. Even in a sea of people, he feels isolated. He doesn't think the real him is worthy of love or kindness.

At the same time, he’s desperate for affection. He's starved himself of touch out of a misplaced fear it would hurt others.

Strangling his soul in exchange for love would be easy. He would pour himself into a mould so lovely that Aster would be smitten– lie until even Daz himself believed it.

He shudders. Even if he would never want that, Daz might think he needs to do it to earn love.

Theo’s hand grips his shoulder. “Aster? You okay, man?”

“Daz could break so easily. It scares me. I want him to be happy. I– I want us to be happy. I want…I'm kind of warming up to the idea of eventually being a dad.”

He sees himself, gently swaying and cradling young, fussy kid in his arms. “Shh, shh. It's just a nightmare, Hemera.”

“But, but, woke up, n’, everyone was, was gone–!”

A kiss is pressed to a mop of golden curls. “Aurora was just in the bathroom, and you know that Mama, Daddy and I are always right down the hall. Plus, all your uncles, your grandpa, Lucid, even San…there’s a whole server out there. The whole world would end before you'd be alone, sweetheart. And we love you too much to let that happen, hmm? We love you too much to leave you all alone.”

Future-Daz, who was watching from the doorway with the other little girl dozing in his arms, melts at how much he likes seeing future-Aster comforting their daughter.

Aster blinks a few times. “Aurora, Hemera, Boreas.” “Huh?” “The kids. I think Aurora and Hemera might be twins…? Boreas is younger.”

Theo’s head cocks to the side. “Dawn, day, n’ the north wind? Interesting fuckin’ choices for gods.”

“Dawn makes sense; gold, stars faintly there, and the sky. It's the three of us combined. Not sure about the others…?”

Oh, wait. Aster points out, “North wind.” “Ah, yeah. N’ it's also the winter wind.”

“What a cruel father, to set our poor son up for snowflake jokes for the rest of his like,” Aster teases. “Or maybe you like being called that, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Theo grumbles, visibly sulking.

If he really thinks about it…Aster can see how they'd work together as a trio.

He and Theo are already close– best friends, and as many people say, cut from the same cloth.

Aster knows Theo pretty damn well. He knows that Daz, the real Daz, would fascinate him.

If it were just Theo and Aster, very little would change in their dynamic.

But with Daz in the mix, he'd strongarm both of them into shutting up. The ruthless, clever man Aster is increasingly seeing the charms of would coax and threaten them as needed, until they did whatever he wanted.

He sees just a flash of all three of them cuddled up in what looks like Daz’s bed.

Both he and Theo are messing with that fluffy blond hair, Daz completely conked out between them…and Theo’s wing draped over top of them.

Huh. Yeah, once Daz gets past the stage of jealousy, he'd probably be very interested in having a second fanatically loyal husband.

God knows Daz melts into physical affection from those he trusts, and Theo is used to giving affection to loved ones pretty freely.

There's a sigh from Theo. “Eh. No fuckin’ point stressing about the names. Bigger fish to fry– I have questions why the fuck I'm the bio dad!”

Aster frowns. “Why would you think that?”

Theo stares at him. “The fuck d'you think made me figure it out? My original fuckin’ wings were bluejay ones! I have Dad's wings now, but those aren't genetic!”

That's…not right.

“That doesn't make sense.” “There’s no reason to fuckin’ lie about–” “No, I mean– that makes sense. I don’t think you're lying. But the kids seem like admins. Eyes are all really vibrant– which I'm pretty sure is a sign of that.”

He's pretty confident they're admins, but it's such a weird thing to pair with the wings.

…Wait.

“Daz is an admin.” “...Yeah, kinda a big fuckin’ deal.” “Admins can do impossible shit.”

Theo’s brow furrows, and then his eyes go wide. “Wait. Are you fuckin’ assuming–” “He's exactly stubborn enough to find a way to– to let you both be the bio parents.”

It actually makes a lot of sense in that context; neither Lucid nor Lee would stop Daz from doing…whatever process that would entail.

Huh. It's…sort of weird, sure, but knowing Daz…it's shockingly plausible.

It makes the most sense for it to be the two of them, anyway. As far as Aster is aware, he's just a normal human.

Both of his eventual partners would get so much more out of being the biological parents than Aster would; not just because of what they are, but who they are.

He does think he wants kids, sure. 

But the kids having his genes is– would it be nice? Probably, sure!

Daz, however, deserves to raise kids who are admins. Theo would be thrilled to raise kids who could eventually fly.

He's stared at. “That's fuckin’ crazy.” “I'm actually fairly sure he could do it.” “Lot've faith in him.”

Aster snorts. “I got a peek in his head when he coded something on the fly. It's…hard to think he's not smart enough for it after that.”

A long, tired sigh comes from Theo. His friend stretches his legs out one way and his wings another.

Weird to think that he may raise kids with wings.

In a good way, obviously. In a way that, despite how unfamiliar it is, he feels a sense of bittersweet yearning for.

…His arms feel a little empty. Like something that's meant to be there isn't.

He's pretty sure he knows what that thing is.

Shaking his head a bit, he says, “I think you'd like Daz, the real Daz, if you gave him a chance. No matter if you end up with us or not, I plan to stay with him. You should get to know him.”

Theo groans, scrubbing a hand over his hair. “Feels fuckin’ weird!” “I'm not saying you have to fall in love. But…”

Aster shrugs. “He's going to be an even bigger part of my life. Kinda weird for you to keep my partner at arm's length, y'know?”

He knocks their shoulders together. “You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t tell you to make nice with someone you'd hate.”

“It’s– it's just real fuckin’ weirdchamp, man! I'm not real used to you two being…together.” “Neither am I, honestly. But it's…”

He smiles to himself, thinking about the candy-sweet life he's gotten glimpses of. He wouldn't have considered being with anyone, especially not Daz…

But, gods, he’s already a little charmed by him. Stubborn, clever, mercurial, damaged Daz; someone just as fiercely and fanatically loyal as Aster, someone who has suffered in silence out of a misplaced sense of guilt.

Aster finds himself wanting to shore up the walls of Daz’s heart and mind. Not to close people out, but rather to be stable enough to let people in.

Even now, he sort of wants to go bother Daz at work. Surely there's something he can do to help out, right…? Some little task he can do to ease what he's pretty sure is a Sisyphean work load.

He's heard Raine, Aleph, and Khons all complain about how much there is to do, so he's reasonably sure there's more than his wildest estimates.

…Actually, he’s pretty sure he’s only heard Daz complain about people doing things he doesn't like.

If Daz has complained about his job otherwise, it wasn't to Aster.

However, Daz has admitted that he was overworking himself well past the point of exhaustion to try and sleep, so that doesn't mean much.

He knows Daz, or at least his work ethic. For a long time, that was one of the only things that Aster could bring himself to praise.

Hmm. Maybe…he should plan to go in at some point.

There's a shove against his side. When he looks over, Theo has bumped him with his wing.

Rolling his eyes, his best friend says, “You look like all fuckin’ lovesick.” “I'm shocked you can put a name to that.” “Oi, fuck off! I was just sayin'--”

There's a long sigh, Theo rubbing the back of his neck. “You have your date later, right? Orph has talked about the fuckin’ Welcome Wagon hours enough that I'm pretty fuckin’ sure he'll be off soon. You should go…I dunno, do you even have nice clothes…?”

There's a brief vision of himself trying something on in Daz’s sewing room.

“I think I will be, soon,” he says, feeling a little excited about that fact.

Maybe he should figure out what exactly a claim looks like to Daz.

If Aster is in it for the long haul– and he is– then it's only right to declare those intentions in the right way.

He nudges Theo back, grinning widely. “Thanks, Theo.”

“For…?”

“Being my best friend. And, uh, being chill with…everything. I'm going to make sure that he never feels trapped again. Even if you decide not to join us, I hope you'll be proud of my efforts to make him happy.”

There's an unreadable expression on Theo’s face, before it shifts into a smile. Slinging an arm and a wing over his shoulders, Theo tells him, “You'd better. I'm gonna be real fuckin’ pissed if shit goes south n’ you're both miserable. But for– joining you two…”

The warrior makes a face. “I dunno. Maybe, eventually…? But you said he's real fuckin’ insecure, n’ it'd be– real, real fuckin’ weirdchamp to do that right now. Need to sort my own fuckin’ thoughts out, n’ whatnot. Even if I did wanna do that, it's kinda…fast. I'd rather give it some fuckin’ time, let you two figure out if you want it.”

Why wouldn't they? If it's the current future, then of course they'd accept him.

Theo sighs. “Future clearly isn't set in stone. Just ‘cause you see it doesn’t mean it has to fuckin’ pass. We've got…agency n’ shit, yeah? So…maybe one or more've us isn't okay with that. I dunno, maybe I decide I wanna be monogamous or never be with fuckin’ anyone at all. Maybe Daz isn't comfortable sharing you– maybe the reality of us being together isn't any good for you, either.”

…Huh. Theo has already given it a lot of thought, hasn't he?

Well, he can’t really say that any of that is wrong. He knows he wants to be with Daz, but beyond that…he's willing to keep an open mind, if nothing else.

“You’re right. I might’ve jumped the gun a little. I'll have to tell Daz I admitted what happened, but…maybe after the date. So, uh…if you get a sudden demand to meet, that'd be why.”

Daz is going to be furious, but Aster didn't see a point in lying to Theo when he guessed correctly and would be hearing about it soon anyway.

And Daz feeling insecure doesn't have to be a big problem now, right? Aster is going to do his best at all that sappy, romantic shit.

…Starting with his date.

[infinitethree]

Daz paces in the Council rooms as Innit laughs at him.

You have a type! “Shut up,” he hisses, seething at the very idea of the thing he just witnessed.

He doesn’t need to deal with this! He’s only just warming up to being with Aster, he doesn’t need–

They’re practically twins! Clones, even! If you like one of them, I mean, it makes perfect sense that you’d also be into–

“No, fuck off,” he snarls, furious he can’t throttle his admin half.

How the fuck did the timeline twist so hard that he ends up with both of them?!

Innit titters, You seemed pretty damn happy about it.

That’s not the point! He might be happy eventually– Like you eventually came around to getting together with Aster? –but he doesn’t need to suddenly grapple with also figuring out being with Theo!

Especially not when things are still so new with Aster.

He hears the sound of someone coming up the ladder, and wheels to see–

Ah. Of course he shows up now.

His– boyfriend, that still feels weird to think of him as– looks at him with concern. “You okay? Theo said you stormed off. He, uh…said he’s not a homewrecker, so I’m kind of worried about what the fuck happened.”

Daz takes a deep breath, only for Aster’s jaw to drop. “Oh, what the fuck,” he says, baffled.

Annoyed, Daz mutters, “You saw it too, huh?” “A poly thing with Theo?!” “I think the timeline got twisted.” Very twisted. “So what we knew is…”

His heart aches a little at the idea that the adorable kid he saw isn’t…actually going to ever be his.

Aster looks so confused that it's almost funny. “But he’s aro/ace!” “Evidently not.” Wild thing to state with such certainty when you two get married.

That's a valid point, for once. “We thought that about us too, remember?” “Okay, but Theo was pretty damn sure. Unlike us, he’s actually been tested.”

Daz stares at him. Does he seriously not know…?

Doesn't seem like it, no.

Uhg, great. Now he has to explain this to his boyfriend.

“I got ‘tested’ on a regular basis. Shockingly, when you’re the primary support for people escaping a nightmare, they tend to want to try and keep you around. Being kind, clever, an amazing cook, well connected, and more also led to me turning down countless people,” Daz sighs.

Rolling his eyes, he adds, “You definitely got hit on a ton and just never noticed. I saw it happen on multiple occasions. Honestly, kinda funny you were that clueless.”

Aster makes a face, at least as much as he can. “Bullshit. For you, I can see it. But me?”

“You’re aware that you’re idolized, right? Like, even outside of the Swords and Shields. You’re living proof that anyone can rise from the dirt and become incredible. You also help others gain power. No fuckin’ shit people want you.”

…Huh, he actually feels disgruntled about it now that he’s putting it into words.

Are you seriously jealous of people he didn't even realize were flirting with him?

Shut up, he’s not jealous and that's not even the point.

He huffs, “We're getting sidetracked. I say we ignore what we saw and pretend it didn't happen.”

Aster gives him a look. “You know why we can't do that.” “First of all, you underestimate me. Second of all, the timeline seems malleable! If I don't engage then I don't have to worry about it. Third of all, even if we do tell him, we don't have to do it immediately. Isn’t it better to settle into you and me before throwing Theo into the mix?”

“Counterpoint,” Aster says, “We tell him within three days, because I can't stand to keep a secret like that from him. I already kept several bombshells from him on your behalf, Daz. I need to confess this particular one for my own peace of mind.”

He has a point. “You just want to see a trainwreck.” Can't both be true?

He doesn't have the patience for this. “Are you seriously prioritizing drama over finishing your body?”

Uhg…it can't take that long, can it? “There will be so many questions. His family will get involved. The timing is shit, because he's dealing with some pretty big emotional hurdles. Dumping this on him won't help.”

There’s an annoyed groan. For all you know, this is one of his hurdles! Maybe he’s got secret gay thoughts, asshole! Like, you might not have been paying attention to him lately, but I saw the look on his face when he saw you two flirting!

…What.

Dude was jealous. Timeline probably changed because ‘cause he got some harsh truths and is on a trajectory of confessing he’s madly in love. With Aster, obviously, and you’re the sidepiece.

He bristles at the idea.

Even if it had seemed like future-Theo was very much into him too, the thought of being sidelined in his own relationship makes him want to get violent.

“Daz?”

The sound of his name, alongside Aster putting a hand on his arm, makes him feel guilty about doubting his sincerity.

Just admit you’re anxious about it and don’t want to share him. 

He burrows into his partner’s arms, mumbling into his shoulder, “It makes me feel nervous. I don’t know him like I know you. Can’t we settle into this before making things more complicated…?”

“Theo is–” “Your best friend.”

Clinging to him, he reluctantly adds, “Can’t– am I not allowed to be jealous of the idea of that?”

There’s a long beat, and then Aster groans. “It’s not fair, Daz.”

He tenses, but his boyfriend continues, “How am I supposed to argue when you’re being vulnerable and cute?”

A noise of protest escapes him. “I am not cute!”

Aster wraps his arms around him, teasing, “I bet you’re blushing at being called cute.” “Shut up.” “I can’t actually say I hate you being possessive, though.”

…Wait, what?

“But being possessive is bad.” “Isn’t that a fundamental part of an admin’s psyche? To want to hoard and protect?” “But it’s weird to non-admins.” “I’m weird to everyone, Daz,” Aster reminds him.

He doesn’t actually believe that, or at least not in a negative sense.

Shh, don’t burst his bubble on how idolized he is. It’s kinda funny to see him think nobody would make a pass at him.

As he rolls his eyes at the peanut gallery, Aster sighs, “I really don’t think it’s a good idea to put it off for long, though. You know the Observers will rat us out eventually.”

Uhg; he fucking hates those bastards sometimes. “They would, wouldn’t they?” “Mm-hmm. So, if I give you a week, do you think that’s enough time to settle your feelings and steel your nerves? ‘Cause even if we tell Theo, we don’t have to do anything. He’d understand wanting to give you time to figure out how you feel.”

It’s deeply unfair that he’s providing such a reasonable solution. “...Promise?”

His voice sounds smaller than he meant it to be.

Aster cards a hand through his hair. “I swear on whatever kids we end up having.”

Oh, shit, that’s a good point. No way in hell Theo wouldn’t want a platoon. Takes after his dad too much.

“Since when do you have opinions on Theo?” Since this involves shit I can’t really tune out. Also, super easy to clock that he’d want to be a dad. Just ask your boyfriend.

Daz sighs, knowing he’ll regret asking. “Innit is sure that Theo will want a swarm of kids.” “Yeah, uh, if kids are on the table? His opinion will probably be ‘we should outdo my dad, because it’d be funny’. He’s been quasi-parent to Lee and arguably his other siblings for basically his entire life. Being Uncle Theo would have been everything to him. Being Dad would make him the happiest guy on the server.”

…Huh. Interesting.

“Well…I guess he can lose his mind about it when we tell him in a week,” Daz shrugs, pulling back and taking both of Aster’s hands in his.

His partner smiles softly, seeming endeared by that. “Thank you for agreeing.” “Don’t thank me yet, I’m making demands,” Daz huffs at him.

“Oh?” “Mm-hmm. I demand you take me on at least two dates. I won’t make you pay for it, so go crazy. Even if you find the fanciest restaurant on the server, it literally won’t make a dent in my bank account.”

Aster stares at him. “...Seriously?” “It doesn’t have to be that, but like– it’d be nice, yeah? I’m sure you have something halfway decent to wear.”

Does he, though?

…Actually, he might not.

Hmm. Project for himself, then; some decent, dressier clothes for Aster to wear.

A dismayed look enters Aster’s eyes. “Please don’t make me dress up. I hate how those clothes feel.” “You’re the one choosing the places we go to,” Daz reminds him.

He’s already making plans, because that sounds like a challenge.

“It’s not like it has to be fancy. Just…something we do together, yeah? We haven’t exactly gone on a date yet. I can plan the next ones, so just…do something that sounds enjoyable.”

There’s a long moment of consideration. “...For you, or for me?” “Both. It’s not going to be fun for me if you’re miserable, yeah? Not the point of a date.”

Despite how doubtful Aster seems, he sighs. “Okay…okay. I think– I mean, it’s going to be…a struggle. But I can try, at least.” “If it ends up being terrible, we can laugh about it later.”

That draws a soft smile out of Aster again. “So you won’t be mad if I pick a terrible place?” “Not if it’s an accident and you’re appropriately embarrassed by it.” “Given you don’t seem to know what shame is, I’m not sure I want to know what you mean by that.”

His eyebrows raise. Aster immediately looks chagrined. “Sorry, that was mean.”

Daz beams at him, putting his arms over his shoulders. “There we go! That’s the amount of shame I’m looking for. Now, don’t be afraid to do something lowkey for our dates, hmm? It doesn’t need to be fancy. I just want to have a nice time with my boyfriend.”

Aster snorts. “You sure you don’t want to plan it?” “Learned helplessness is a real phenomenon, and I’m trying not to encourage it.”

There’s a sullen expression. “I’m not going to foist everything off onto you, I just– I know it won’t be as…good.”

He laughs a little. “It’ll be fine, Aster. I’m not looking for perfection. The world won’t end if it ends up bad. As long as you make a sincere effort, I’ll be happy.”

It’s not even a lie. He just…wants proof that Aster isn’t bored of him before anything even happens.

If they’re going to have a life together, especially one with Theo, he wants a solid foundation. He wants that candy-sweet future that was shown to him. He wants…

Fuck, he wants to be loved.

Deeply, intensely, fanatically loved. Loved so much that it makes him breathless with awe; loved so much that the jagged edges of his heart are sewn back together.

He’s already an outsider for so much, isn’t he? Even among other admins, he’s different– he’s worse. His trauma and misery has made him sharp, ugly, and cruel. It’s honed his mind into a wicked weapon against even the barest hint of harm.

Aster, despite his rough exterior, has a big heart. He can’t help but try to be a hero.

Daz knows good and goddamned well that he’s a villain. Even when he’s doing good, he’ll only ever rise to being an antihero.

Theo, similarly to Aster, is a hero. He’s a bloodier one, according to some stories, but…still a hero.

Maybe Aster wanting something– someone– more his equal was always inevitable. Maybe the future they were seeing was a one-in-a-million; the only timeline in which they’re truly happy together.

But the future has changed. The old one probably won't ever come to pass.

He's used to choking on disappointment, though.

Even if he can’t have the ultimate ideal, he’ll settle for not being obviously sidelined.

As pathetic as it would be to accept being second, as long as he’s not neglected…

Well. He’s known the soul-deep agony of rejection and loneliness for longer than he hasn’t.

Maybe the past rhymes. Maybe he’s damned to brush his fingers against the sun but never grasp it– cursed to taste the sweet ambrosia of love for just a few moments before he plunges back down to the unforgiving ground.

It would make sense. He doesn't need to have a literal curse, not when a god hates him.

You're catastrophizing, Innit tuts. He’s not that kind of person.

Hah. Its bias is showing.

Whatever. He should focus on soaking up this brief period of love before it all goes wrong.

It always goes wrong.

[infinitethree]

Theo has to take a few minutes to calm down after that clusterfuck of a meeting.

What a nightmare.

Not just the chaos, but knowing he has two devastating secrets he can't speak of.

Both of them fuck with his head in vastly different ways. He hates the idea of whatever the words being written about him say– hates how he's become brutally aware of the level of intimacy that entails.

He gets sick to his stomach reading books written by mere mortals.

How much worse is whatever the Scribe is writing– has already written?

On one hand, he feels stupid for ever pleading for the mercy of who he has known as Time, because they obviously don't care about such minor slights.

He's spent a lot of time seething with directionless, righteous fury every time his Dad is forced to relive new versions of his living hell, after all.

It's not like he hasn’t blasphemed in his own head.

There's no way a divine author wouldn't know about that. They probably thought his attempts to appease them were funny.

Yet, even still, the idea of so much as breathing his resentment out loud chills him to the bone.

And then there’s the second secret.

In theory, it's so much smaller. Maybe a surprise, sure, but plenty of people would be relieved to know their future wasn't set in stone.

He's not even sure that Aster would care. Maybe be a little upset for various reasons, but he'd take it in stride.

Daz, however…

The real Daz is alien to him in many ways. Theo only really knows what Aster has told him or that he's witnessed firsthand.

That combination, though, paints the picture of someone exactly fucked up enough to use himself as a weapon against someone who he feels wronged him.

Mostly because he’s already tried to do that at least twice.

Theo doesn't have faith that he won't feel betrayed by the future he was seeing being someone else's future.

It's impossible that it'll stay a secret forever. For all that Theo sees the ugly side of Daz now, he can’t deny that he's smart.

Shit, he was teaching Lee right under their noses for a while! Theo's own baby brother has, despite repeated claims of Daz being an asshole, also admitted he thinks the guy's kinda a genius.

And despite the real Daz's prickly nature, Lee wants to exchange duo items.

Claims, Daz apparently calls them. The signifier of being beloved and backed by an admin.

For that reason alone, Theo can't let Daz do something stupid.

Beyond that…

No matter what else he thinks about him, Theo can confidently say that Daz’s work is vital to Sanctuary functioning.

The Welcome Wagon, mostly. But, assuming nobody has exaggerated the extent of Daz’s secret efforts– assuming the glimpses Theo has seen are only the tip of the iceberg…?

Sanctuary might be crippled without him.

Maybe that wouldn't have always been the case. Maybe things could have turned out differently.

But now, Daz has rooted himself so deeply into the heart of the server– metaphorically, at least– that it’s almost impossible to remove him by force.

Theo has no fucking clue what would happen if Daz killed himself.

There's a good chance that they'd never recover– that Daz would be angry and cruel enough to set off a nuke in the aftermath.

He jumps about a foot in the air when he hears a sudden, “Alright, you’re clearly having a rough time.”

Goddamnit. He forgot that Daz is still in the room.

The guy's arms are folded over his chest, looking vaguely concerned, but also potentially just annoyed he's still here.

Hard to tell which.

It's not like he's able to be sneakier about his distress, though, so he admits, “I have two earth-shattering fuckin’ secrets I'm not able to talk about. No fuckin’ shit I'm having a bad fuckin’ time!”

Daz folds his arms over his chest, clearly unimpressed. “Sounds like you're a pussy, then.”

What Hey what the fuck?! Kick his ass kick his ass kick his ass His face looks soooo punchable right now One good punch and he'd stop being a lil bitch–

Offended but definitely not willing to jump to that kind of violence just for that, he says, “Fuck right off. Just ‘cause you can handle secrets doesn’t mean you could fuckin’ handle these ones!”

There's a toothy grin. “I think you’re overthinking things. You can't exactly do anything about it, so stop being a little bitch and do what you do best.”

He gets to his feet and stands right in front of him. 

Daz is a few inches shorter than him and significantly slimmer, plus Theo has wings.

Despite looming over him with what he damn well knows to be an intimidating expression and body language, Daz seems entirely unphased.

“Yeah? The fuck do I do best, huh?” “Get your ass kicked by my boyfriend, obviously.”

Hold on a second What, why?? Oh my god is he pulling a Theo Holy shit you might be right ohhh fuck he's pulling a Theo I still think you should punch him tho yeah he doesn't have permission to use that against us!!

…Goddamnit.

Daz doing exactly what Theo does to his Dad and brothers when they're lost in their own heads is deeply unfair.

More than that, he feels like it might be a power play– proof that Daz has been observing him and knows how he thinks.

He's suddenly struck with the realization that, for better or for worse, Daz is the best candidate to try to force the secret out to.

After all, if he’s really as smart as he's claimed to be…he might be able to do something.

“I need to tell you–”

The first sign that he fucked up is that the words burn as they come out.

The second sign is that Theo is no longer himself.

The body he’s in– the mind he’s in– claws at itself and screams as a Tubbo comes closer.

“Bossman, I got your com!”

Words continue as the person hugs the Tubbo with one arm. There’s a faint tremble as the body withdraws a sword, the mind howling in a way that Theo will have nightmares over. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t think about– that you might be upset over– over everything. I told them I quit. I’m leaving the coun–”

The sword is pierced through the heart at an angle that Theo abruptly recognizes.

Oh, gods.

He’s in Daz’s head at the moment he killed his Tubbo.

The awareness of why Aster is so worried about him becomes crystal clear as Daz shatters.

Every detail is crystal clear. Daz and what must be Innit die and wither in the moments it takes for Tubbo to breathe out a confused, “--Try?”

Is this what it feels like when an admin loses someone they’ve claimed?

It’s like going insane; even though they’re not his own, the emotions are so visceral and violent that Theo gets swept up in them. 

Abruptly, he realizes he’s back in his body. He collapsed on the floor at some point, his hands tangled in his own hair and dry heaving.

His wings are curled protectively around himself, trying to block out the grief and agony from a past not his own.

Daz has dragged him into a hug, rubbing his back and murmuring words that take a new moments to register.

“--Keep stealing blankets no matter how much we beg them not to, so I had to order another twenty. We go through even backups so fast that we probably account for a significant portion of the store’s sales. And it’s not even like I couldn’t track them down. I always know who takes them. I just don’t bother, because it gives them a sense of security despite the cost to my sanity–”

He manages to croak, “The– the fuck’re you on about…?”

Daz pulls back enough to grab his face with both hands. He answers, dead serious, “Panic attacks mean I bring up something to ramble about. You are far from the first person I’ve had to do this for. Welcome Wagon sees a shitload of breakdowns, so– I’m used to them. Not from you, granted, but I know how to ground someone.”

Theo stares at him. Daz stares back, visibly concerned. “What the fuck happened? You were trying to say something, and then you collapsed and started hyperventilating.”

A shudder goes down his spine. From how Daz acted at the meetings after he tried to commit sucide-by-Theo–

Shit. He’s gonna hate this.

“Price for fuckin’ up isn’t– s’ not physical pain,” Theo mumbles, unable to meet his eyes. “I– I saw…probably the worst fuckin’ moment of your life.”

Did you see his Tubbo die?! Yeah we didn’t see shit! This isn’t very pog of the Scribe Yeah if Theo has to suffer, we should all suffer! Wait a second, that’s not what I meant–

He ignores the chattering of the Fates as Daz’s expression shutters.

“Saw, or were in my head for it?” “Latter.”

Daz’s mouth forms a grim line. He searches Theo’s face. “Did you know, or even suspect–” “The fuck would I think pain’d mean the worst fuckin’ moments of someone else’s life?! You think– shit, I don’t wanna know your life! I have enough on my fuckin’ plate without dealing with your baggage too!”

The guy opens his mouth, and then it falls open.

“I– what?!”

A sputtering comes from Daz as he reels backwards so hard he falls on his back.

Staring at the ceiling, expression baffled, Daz snaps at nobody, “No, I will not– fuck that! It doesn’t make sense!”

Theo is so goddamned confused.

Daz growls, “It can’t change that much–”

“The fuck are you talking about? Is Innit up to something?”

He gets a middle finger. “I’m dealing with something here, shut up.” There’s a beat. “No, that doesn’t– no! I refuse!”

This is actually kinda entertaining oh oh oh can we guess what he saw?! I mean, probably something about Theo and Aster? Shit yeah he only sees in Aster’s head, right? Ooh do he and Theo have an affair or something?!

It’s Theo’s turn to be offended. “Absolutely fuckin’ not, I would not go after someone in a relationship! N’ I’m not– I’m ace! N’ aro! N’ I’m not gonna fuckin’ fool around with my best friend’s marriage, that’s fuckin’ crazy! Even moreso ‘cause I mean–”

He gestures at Daz, making a face he damn well knows the Fates can see. “He’s him!”

“Fuck off,” Daz snaps, leveraging himself upright and glaring at him. “I turn people down left and right, you are not too good for me!”

Theo stares at him. “That’s– not what I fuckin’ said?” “It’s what you implied!” “No?! I meant you’re ruthless n’ an admin, I’m not gonna– shit, even if I was that kinda person on any fuckin’ level, trying to steal your partner is fuckin’ suicidal.”

Daz stares back. “...You think I saw you having an affair,” he says, slowly.

“Is– I mean, the Fates thought–” “Oh, if I thought that would happen, I would shatter Aster’s sanity. What I saw was…”

Annoyance crosses the guy’s face for a moment. “Uhg. I’m not getting into it.” “It fuckin’ involves me, yeah? Shouldn’t I know?”

Daz rolls his eyes, getting to his feet. “You aren’t aro/ace. Not entirely.”

Before Theo can answer, Daz teleports himself away.

He stares at the wall for a long moment before screeching, “Wait, who the fuck did he see me with?!”

What timeline does he get together with someone, and more critically, who the hell would it be?!

He can’t fathom being with anyone, but if it was someone–

Wait.

It’s not cheating, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still the person the Fates first suspected.

…Do Daz and Aster…not get together in that timeline? Or, the worst case scenario– do they break up?

It would be crazy if he didn’t know that, one, they were never seeing this timeline. At least, not the ‘future’ parts of what Daz and Aster see.

And two, that this means that there are other timelines, and thus, it makes sense that they would eventually see those, too.

Daz being pissed at him because he thinks that he ends up stealing Aster makes sense, unfortunately. And he can’t exactly correct that assumption– not without paying a price.

Goddamnit. He flops against the ground, glaring at the ceiling and wishing he could just explain that, actually, Daz can chill the fuck out because the version of Theo in this reality isn’t gonna be a homewrecker.

This sucks so bad.

[infinitethree]

A meeting is once again being held in one of the Welcome Wagon's orientation rooms.

This time, though, it's Theo up at the front.

He took a cue from Daz and Aster and enlisted Raine to illustrate what he saw, and also to get the images on the screen.

Once everyone has turned up, he takes a deep breath. No sense in sugar coating it. “I met the Scribe.”

The group's expressions are grim, and understandably so.

The Showrunner had been harrowing for Daz and Aster– oh, and Innit– to meet.

He flicks the screen on, showing the visage of the god he's been doing the bidding of for years.

“I requested a meeting. I…wanted to make a deal.”

He takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

When he opens them again, he confesses, “I asked for Dad's immortality to be revoked. He'll age n’ die like normal now. In return–”

His words falter a moment. He has to take another deep breath before he can say, “I was– I was given knowledge…n’ a fuckin’ geas. I can’t– the two things I learned, I can’t speak of ‘em. If I try directly, the words die. Indirectly…they said it'd cause me pain.”

Daz’s mouth twists further into a frown. “Can you be very vague about who they affect?”

Hah. Of course he's the one who wants to test it. “First one– affects everyone. N’ once other people figure it out…they can't fuckin’ talk about it, either. Not unless it's to others who know. Has to– everyone has to fuckin’ figure it out on their own.”

Aster’s eyes go wide. “Is it dangerous?”

A loaded question. “Not…directly. Could be, in certain circumstances. Definitely fuckin’ bad for our peace've mind, though.”

Vio's tail flicks in a sign of anxiety. “Is there anything we could do about it, if we knew?”

A shudder goes down his spine at the idea of anyone doing anything about it.

“No. S’ not for us to fuckin’ meddle with.”

The words sting as they come out in a warning that he's verging on triggering the punishment.

Quickly, he refocuses on the other part. “Second one is– uh, directly affects only a few fuckin' people. It…could have some– real fuckin’ far-reaching consequences, though. Uh, like– fallout wise.”

His gaze goes to Aster. What would happen if the bombshell snaps Daz in half?

His best friend is already in pretty damn deep. Aster has twined his fingers with Daz's, likely for support.

They think they'll have a kid together– a kid who they're getting attached to. 

What happens when they realize that kid won't ever be theirs?

…What if Daz spirals because he gets too deep into a relationship on false pretenses? What if he tries to kill himself again?

Would Aster be able to live with himself? Would Theo?

Fuck.

Daz's gaze is sharp. “Could the fallout endanger Sanctuary?”

Hah. If only he knew. “...Technically. It– those people're…”

The words feel worse and worse as he speaks, so he ends the sentence.

He looks away. “That one, though, s’ not under the geas. Others can talk about it once they know it. Once enough fuckin’ people know, I'll probably have that one lifted entirely.”

Aster squeezes Daz’s hand. It's hard to tell if he's giving or seeking support. “Which one is the bigger threat to Sanctuary?”

He has to think about how to answer. “...Second one. But neither– not fuckin’...immediately. The first one is– we really can't do shit about it. Real fuckin’ scary to think about, though. It rec–”

Theo winces from the harsh sting of that word. Too close, then.

He wants even one person who is aware of this truth. Someone to share this awful burden with– even if that's a selfish desire.

Cassandra and Echo. His words aren't that strictly limited, but he’s still on a pretty short leash.

All he can do is hope that someone will put the pieces together.

With another deep breath, he says, “When I get too fuckin’ close to indirectly saying it, the words– they hurt. S’ sharp n’ sting-y. I can’t…”

He feels his face screw up and his wings tuck in close. “If I decide to break it, I wanna be sure it's real fuckin’ deliberate.”

Day looks sad Of course he's sad, Theo is upset! I still wanna know what the secrets are I mean, we'll figure it out eventually If we work together it should be easy!

Theo huffs softly in amusement at them. The Fates always know how to cheer him up.

Then again, they've been with him for well over a decade. The Fates have been his eyes and the momentum behind his fighting– to the point where he doubts that Theseus Was-Taken, The Blue Death would exist without them.

For as much as they tease and poke at him, he knows they care.

Daz studies him for a long moment, then flicks his attention to the screen. “So, tell us about the Scribe. As far as I'm aware, nobody but the T3 have interacted with them at all.”

Vio corrects, “Jacobs and Styll were contacted to build the portal, then served as conduits to give us the marching orders. Otherwise, I think you're right.”

There's no doubt that Daz would like to ask more. He just recognizes that doing so is a dangerous game.

…If there's anyone who can figure out either secret, it'll be Daz.

Theo sighs softly, using the large console to show the strange location he had been in. “The Scribe's domain is an endless library in a white void. Real fuckin’ unsettling for a void to be white. Uh– saw lots've books, obviously.”

Aleph seems intrigued. “Did you read any?”

“Fuck no. I didn’t get permission n’ I was in the domain of a fuckin’ god among gods. I wasn’t gonna piss ‘em off by touching their work! More titles I saw, more fuckin’ obvious it was that I was being tested, too.”

He shudders at the thought of what might have happened if he was more ignorant.

Wings flicking anxiously, he continues, “The Scribe is named real fuckin’ fittingly. Arms spun around ‘em, writing in books that shrank n’ grew over n’ over. Editing on the fly, maybe. So…they probably wrote all those books themself. N’ their mask–”

He flicks back to the illustration of them. Raine is an excellent artist, having captured the imposing nature and subtle details of the god.

“It shifts. Subtly, usually, but when I asked for– for Dad's immortality to be taken…eye turned into a mouth.”

He goes to that slide, goosebumps rising at the sight. “They speak slow n’ deliberately. They like when people're clever. I can’t say for sure, n’ definitely can't speak for ‘em…but I got the fuckin’ impression that they don't feel real fuckin’ interested in stepping into shit here. At least, not for the moment.”

Chewing on his lip a moment, he adds, “If I had to guess? Scribe is busy with other shit. Showrunner is the one we'll interact with the most. Showrunner also seems like the one who deals with the Observers.”

His Dad leans forward, bracing his arms on his knees. “...Do you think the Scribe would help us, if we asked?”

“Not freely. Might make things worse, if the wrong person asks the wrong fuckin’ way. I don’t…trying to interact with ‘em is a real fuckin’ risky move. I don’t even wanna say how I got my audience. I don’t even fuckin’ know if I could get it to work again,” he answers.

With a grimace, he adds, “You know how fuckin’ little we get told when doing their bidding as it is. Just their fuckin’ laugh felt…wrong. Felt– eldritch. Things no fuckin’ mortal should ever know burned on my fuckin’ tongue. We don't wanna fuckin’ test ‘em. I amused ‘em, sure, but I don't think they're any fuckin’ kinder than the Showrunner.”

Daz leans just a little into Aster’s side, even as he pulls his hand away. Gaze sharp, arguably the smartest guy in the room asks, “Why did they laugh?”

“Like I said; I amused ‘em. I did something unexpected, bold, n’ clever. That has diminishing fuckin’ returns. Assuming they answer at all, repeated attempts to make deals may just piss ‘em off. N’ this–”

He scrubs a hand down his face. As much as he doesn’t like admitting this…

He confesses, “I was trying to find a way to become immortal. I didn’t wanna leave Dad alone with no fuckin’ end in sight. When I learned that Time was the Scribe…I saw a way to do the fuckin’ opposite. N’ it's not fuckin’ like I wanted to live forever. Not for its own sake, anyway.”

Aster is suddenly in his face, throwing a punch at his throat.

For once, Theo is caught off guard enough that he can’t defend against it.

His friend yells at him, “You goddamned idiot! Why do the people around me– stop trying to fall on swords for others!”

“Hey, I never tried to be a martyr,” Raine protests. “Some of us do our therapy right,” Khons agrees.

Annoyed, Daz says, “Stop being vague, everyone knows who you mean.”

Aster pinches the bridge of his nose. “Daz.” “Yes, dear?” “I–”

An odd look crosses Aster’s face. “Dear?”

Eyebrows raising, Daz answers, “We’re dating. Pet names are normal…I think.”

After a beat, Daz rolls his eyes. “It’s not like anyone here knows better, at least. I see more couples than anyone else.”

They're dating.

Aster and Daz have started dating, and that means–

Fuck. What happens if Daz goes supernova when the truth comes out?

If Aster has agreed to date, then he would be devastated if it happened now.

The longer it takes them to realize, the worse it could be.

“Worst possible way to phrase that,” Raine snarks, unaware of how Theo is scrambling for stable footing.

Daz shoots back, “I can think of worse ones!”

Hands press on his shoulders. 

His attention is pulled back to Aster, who seems concerned. “Theo?”

“I didn't realize you two started fuckin’ dating,” Theo answers. He shrugs, rubbing his throat despite barely feeling it. “Just– caught me off guard. Would've been fuckin’ nice to hear personally, Aster.”

With a wince, his friend apologizes, “It’s been less than a week. You've been kinda busy, so…”

Not like he can argue.

Daz’s eyes narrow. He drapes his arms over the back of the seat he’s sitting on, one leg resting on the opposite knee.

The pose is imperious, like this is Daz’s castle and he's a king about to pass judgment.

“I wasn’t aware you had an opinion on our love life. Also, you know we get married, so. This was inevitable.”

Immediately, Aster tells Daz, “If Raine, Khons, and Aleph found out just now, they'd be mad, too. Just like you got pissy that I didn't tell you about the earrings–” “Still not over that, by the way.” “--Theo can be upset his best and pretty much only friend didn't tell him about getting into a relationship.”

It takes him a moment to decipher what the fuck the two of them are talking about.

He holds his hands up defensively. There is no way in hell he's getting on Daz’s bad side. “I mean– yeah, just feels…I dunno, I just didn't realize things got that far! I'm not– gonna fuckin’ object to you dating or some shit.”

Mostly because there's no way to do that without explaining why.

Daz huffs, even as Raine pats his arm. “At least Aster is learning to communicate with most people.” “I was the one who told all of you.” “A trait that will either rub off on him or you'll train him into.”

Naturally, Aster is offended by that. “I have great communication skills! Also, the fuck am I, a dog?”

Cheerfully, Daz answers, “You can give orders, dear, that’s not the same thing. Also, everyone is trainable. You’re not special.”

Aster inhales, and then looks baffled. “He made you pay when you swore? That's why you don't do it as much?!”

Theo squints. “...Daz had a fuckin’ swear jar?”

“It was to teach me self control, because he was unaware how short of a leash I put myself on by following his own stupid fuckin’ ethos.”

Aster’s brow furrows. “Didn't you break a ton of his rules?” “I followed the spirit of leveling the playing field. Not my fault he thought I wouldn't spy on everyone, him included.”

Concerned, Day straightens up. “Spy how–”

Daz rolls his eyes. “Nothing that can't be done easier with tech here. Not that I bothered, because I literally don't have enough time to utilize that properly. I'm not saying more, for hopefully obvious reasons.”

Despite nobody looking at him, Lucid makes a face. “I'm not dumb enough to take away something that makes you feel safe. I like my bones on the inside, thanks.”

“You’re surely not implying that I need Aster to fight my battles for me,” Daz warns.

“My mind being broken too is kind of a given. It's a two for one deal.”

Tone flat, Vio tells them, “I have to stitch him up after anything you do. Don't give me more work.”

Aster points out, “We've eliminated countless fires before there was any smoke. Even if Lucid fucks around, finding out a thousand times won't budge the scales.”

“What’s this we? I had to bully you into doing the barbecues. You hate socializing,” Daz complains.

When Aster gives his…boyfriend? A long look, Daz rolls his eyes. “It’s a valid point!” “You still need to stop picking fights.”

“Children, can we focus,” Day complains, snapping his fingers a few times.

He’s given a death glare by both Aster and Daz, neither of whom Theo would really want to talk to like that.

As much as he loves his dad, and as much as Aster is his friend, the idea of snipping at him feels wrong.

Then again, maybe he’s just on edge because of the dual bombshells he has no choice but to sit on.

Theo worries at a few of the beads in his hair, trying to draw comfort from the familiar textures. “I– I dunno if there’s really anything else, though. It’s…I mean. Hopefully this never fuckin’ matters.”

Wait, fuck. He almost forgot.

“No– I fuckin’ take that back. Scribe said one thing, when they were laughing. Invoked someone they called the Overseer like we’d invoke Prime. I didn’t ask anything else.”

Daz’s irritation vanishes. “Someone exists above them, then?” “Sounds like it. Dunno who or what they are, or if we’ll know more, but…s’ probably good to know they apparently exist.”

A shudder goes down his spine and through his wings. Given what the Showrunner and the Scribe can do, he dreads the thought of knowing what the Overseer is even capable of.

He preferred when gods were beings trapped within the confines of a story. Having to interact with them as much as he does…

Having someone so far above him makes him uneasy. It was already bad enough that he met them every so often when traveling, but adding the Showrunner’s meddling on top of everything else grates at him.

Especially now that he knows that it’s not just watching.

What gets written, and who decides what is described? Whose perspective is it from?

Fuck. He never properly appreciated his Dad’s stance on the mind being a sacred place that nobody else could or should peer into.

Now that he’s facing the idea that his thoughts might not be as private as he assumed, he’s suddenly a hell of a lot more worried about what he’s thinking and how it might be taken.

…Can he knock on wood in his own head? Do either of them even care?

Not like he can ask, even if he wanted to.

[infinitethree]

OOC:: Omg, I love them! I always call Vio hard mode, but that's pretty damn good! Like the only big not-quite-accurate thing is that he doesn't actually have hair, just some light fuzz. He's otherwise perfect!! :D

@infinitethree

@cocomere

So I went a lil crazy and decided I had to try drawring Vio and Day,

for some reason Vio was easier tho that could be the coffee……

[infinitethree]

When Day gets a message from Theo to meet him in the bunker under said eldest son's room, he knows something is wrong.

As far as he knows, Theo doesn't go down there often; he rarely feels the need to hide things from San.

The fact that he wants to do so now, with no prior warning signs…

It's enough to make him scrap his plans for lunch and head down immediately.

There's the distinct smell of smoke and something more that puts his feathers on edge as soon as he opens the hidden trapdoor.

Yeah, fuck the ladder; this is why they have padding at the bottom.

He jumps down and immediately sees Theo on the couch.

His son is hunched over, head in his hands. His wings are curled around himself, evidently lost in his thoughts.

Day sits next to him, jolting him.

Theo–

Theo looks wrecked. There aren't a lot of times he's seemed more upset.

It's definitely not as bad as when his brothers were hurt or killed, nor learning Day's past.

But…this might be close to the distress he showed when they first rescued Daz.

Maybe even Raine.

Drags his eldest son into a hug. Theo shudders, clinging to him like a kid instead of well into his twenties.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

Theo flinches a little.

Is it his fault? Theo doesn't really flinch unless he feels guilty.

Slowly, his son tells him, “...You know…the myth Orph took his name from, yeah?”

“I– what? Of course I do, you made sure I knew all of them by heart.”

“N’...how you can– how, sometimes, you can made deals with gods?”

There's only one thing this points to.

Gripping Theo’s shoulders, he demands, “What did you get, and what was the price?”

He knows his son– knows him better than he knows anyone else.

Theo would never even entertain anything like this without a damn good reason.

A weak, watery laugh comes from his eldest. “The alternative was so much fuckin’– I couldn't leave you alone, old man.”

His grip tightens. Horrified, he demands, “Tell me you didn't make yourself imm–”

“No. I was…that was the plan. For– for a while. But…shit, we have a real fuckin’ powerful boss, yeah? So I did the opposite.”

Opposite of immortal? So he…

Oh, gods. His bleeding-hearted son sold his soul to make sure Day wasn't immortal.

Grief surges up. He had made his peace with outliving his kids, and despite how upsetting it was–

Shit, he would have been able to protect them.

Now, Theo has not just upended that, but paid a price that's deeply upset him.

“What…did you pay,” he repeats. Getting emotional about the other part can wait until he knows what the cost was.

A half-hysterical laugh slips from Theo, who grips his shirt tighter.

“Compared– fuck, it could be worse! Could be so much fuckin’ worse! I– I didn't…I didn't lose anything.”

That's not a comfort. “Then what did you gain?”

Quietly, and finally meeting his eyes, Theo tells him, “Knowledge. I learned– two things. Two…real fuckin’ big things. I– I can't say ‘em. Uhm, if I try, I just– can't fuckin’ speak. N’ workarounds…I dunno. I haven't– ‘s a punishment. Pain, the Scribe said. Dunno…shit, these're– big enough I can't not try.”

A shudder goes down Theo's spine. He looks stricken. “One is bigger. If anyone else figures it out, they fuckin’...same geas. Only those who already know can fuckin’ say it around each other. The other is– technically smaller. Still a big fuckin’ deal. That one, no server-wide geas. Just me.”

It…

Theo is right; it could be worse.

It's definitely not good, of course. It's clearly deeply distressing, after all, and Theo can’t truly talk about it.

But he could have had so many things taken. Sight, memory, flight, just to name a few. Or he could have been made to do something like sacrifice someone he loved, or do an impossible feat.

As far as dealings with gods go, and especially this god?

It's a disturbingly light cost.

Theo adds, almost hesitantly, “N’...there was– I learned something that’s not fuckin’ protected.”

Day tenses. “What is it?”

“Someone…there's another fuckin’ god above the Showrunner n’ Scribe. The, uh– the Scribe called ‘em the Overseer. They– they invoked ‘em like we'd invoke Prime. Like, uh– like Thank Prime, kinda shit. I saw the Scribe, too. Just…fuck, I can’t do a fuckin’ meeting about it. Not right now. N’ I don't wanna…”

Theo scrubs his face, looking exhausted. “I don't wanna fuckin’ describe the whole thing over n’ over.”

It’s understandable. He nods, running his hand between Theo’s wings like he used to do when his son was younger.

Back when the wings he had were his own, and not a copy-pasted version of Day’s. Back when Theo showed vulnerability more openly; back when Theo was just a kid who was opening up to a parent who actually cared.

He should still be that kid. He never should have had to grow up like he did– never should have had to shoulder so many of their burdens.

Maybe then he wouldn’t have felt compelled to take this one on, too.

But neither of them can undo it. Day doubts he’d even get an audience to do so– and if he did, it would likely end with things far worse than before.

There’s nothing he can do but support Theo as best as he can.

Later, he might find it in himself to feel anything but guilty and worried, but…

Fuck. For now, that’s all there is.

[infinitethree]

Theo pauses in the act of setting something up, but only for a moment.

Now that he knows that the Observers can be clocked, he's tapped into the same sense that has served him countless times before.

Most notably, they once screamed at him that something unwelcome was lurking around Cobble Keep.

Later, he learned that it had been Hero, and the fact that a blind, infamous warrior sensed his presence made the not-dog decide that he wasn't someone to be messed with.

But he had been reminded of that incident recently. His thoughts had gone to the Observers, and he wondered…what if he could do the same with them?

Evidently he was right. He can sense them hovering, a presence he had previously dismissed as the Fates.

Good to know.

Since he hasn’t been asked anything, he doesn’t bother to acknowledge them. Maybe keeping it a secret will be useful, who the fuck knows?

From the look of it, Theo is setting up an altar in the bunker under his room. He’s not in the living room, but instead in the room that would be used as his and his dad’s room.

Less likely that the smoke will be noticed that way. The air purification system will get rid of traces fairly quickly, but it pays to be cautious.

He’s dragged a small cauldron, candles, a books, and a few other things into the room.

To the side is a health potion, a dagger, and a rag.

Once he’s satisfied with his altar, he lights a fire within the cauldron and stokes it.

Then, he places items inside.

A book, some of his own feathers, and a wooden puzzle box. Once they’re all burning, he takes the ornate dagger– which usually sits among various trinkets in his room– and cuts his hand open.

Letting the blood drip into the fire, he says, “As your proxy in the mortal realm, I request an audience. I invoke your name, Scribe, and wish to know the face of the god I have served for all this time.”

The smoke rushes forward, filling his lungs with the taste of ash and knowledge.

When it clears–

He’s in a void.

The white void makes him uneasy, even more than a black one would. It feels wrong for a void to be white, to be able to see forever and yet see nothing.

His blood drips down, and when he glances at it, he sees it keep dripping unnaturally quickly in one direction.

With no other options, he follows it.

Knowing how long he’s walked is impossible. The Fates are silent, too, which is unnerving as hell.

Between steps, he finds himself in a library.

The floor and ‘ceiling’ are still the void, but now he’s surrounded by bookshelves. Glancing behind him, the shelves stretch into the horizon.

It’s so incredibly tempting to take one of the books and look at it. Most people would, but…Theo knows better.

This is the domain of a god among gods. He has not been given permission to touch anything, and thus, he will not risk their wrath by doing anything more than glancing as the titles as he passes.

The temptation grows, though. He sees names he knows, scrawled in characters that should be illegible yet are not.

Definitely a test, then.

Even when he sees a book labeled The Life and Death of Achilles Was-Taken: Sanctuary’s Greatest Admin, he only lets his stride falter instead of stop.

Eventually, a break in the shelves reveals a large, open area.

Theseus Was-Taken, living legend, nightmare made flesh and bone, The Blue Death, loving brother and son, and hero to hundreds of people, comes face to face with the god who set his story into motion.

The Scribe towers over him, their robes billowing in an unseen and unfelt breeze. The runes on the hem shift constantly, and as Theo watches, a galaxy dances across the rest of it. 

Their many hands are tipped with dark purple claws made of densely packed together words that shift in a headache-inducing way. Those claws hold quills as they scrawl in books that hover in the air.

The books grow and shrink constantly. Sometimes subtly, sometimes very obviously.

If they’re the Scribe, then are they editing on the fly…?

In the same manner as their claws, the crown growing through their hood and the mask they wear are made of more of those words, as is the halo around a massive, lavender eye sort of like an ender eye hovering above the crown. More eyes dot the halo-rings.

The only ‘skin’ that Theo can see are the mannequin-like arms, of which there are at least a dozen, hovering around them. He notes that, aside from the claws, they’re a silvery white color.

Silver and lavender, the same colors that the travel portals use.

Instead of a face, they wear a mask. Not a hard one, but instead it seems to be some sort of cloth. A large, sideways, geometric eye design stares at him.

So do all the slit-pupil ones.

Since they seem to be waiting for him to start, he drops to one knee and bows his head. “Scribe. I’m honored you agreed to my request.”

“The Showrunner is not the only one who possesses curiosity,” they sigh. Unlike their fellow god, the Scribe’s voice is measured and methodical.

He dares to ask, “Because I thought outside the box?” “It was a bold move, yet a calculated one. I do not dislike such things.”

Pleased with himself, he lifts his head. He blinks in surprise as he realizes the Scribe is holding the book he burned as an offering.

“A curious choice, to burn a diary,” the god notes.

He admits, “My actual one felt too mundane, so I copied everything by hand n’ made sure it was suitably fancy. But I’d be a fool to try n’ outdo a writer. I figured you might appreciate a first-person account of events.”

They hum, “Your subtle flattery does have its charm, I suppose.” “I’m glad you appreciate it.”

Next they ask, “What made you decide to include a puzzle box?”

Theo grins and replies, “You like putting me in situations where I have to be smart n’ clever. Hard to represent that in a physical object. I could’ve done a Rubix cube, but, uh– to be honest, I was worried about the smoke that’d make. Also it’s cliche.”

There’s a little chuckle, and the Scribe agrees, “Yes, it is cliche.”

He’s relieved they’re being so cordial. He expected…well, he wasn’t sure what he expected.

Something like the Showrunner, he supposed. A person who fucked with him and his seemingly just for kicks.

The sideways geometric eye of their mask subtly shifts. The Scribe tells him, “Very well, Theseus. Tell me what made you decide to do this.”

He knows an order when he hears one.

Taking a deep breath, he says, “I’m sure you’re aware of my– my quest. To find a way to be immortal, alongside my dad.”

“Indeed. An interesting reason for immortality, one that inclines me to not inflict upon you a fate worse than death.”

Theo shudders. He has no doubt they could, if they so chose.

He continues, “But– I figured, instead of going around, looking for that– selling my soul, as it were? I could come to you. N’ instead of immortality, the opposite.”

Asking his dad about it had been a tricky thing. He didn’t want him to stop this– because he would have, his dad would never condone doing something so dangerous– but he had to know.

He’d asked if his dad would be happy if he would start aging. If he’d be at peace, without the looming threat of outliving all of them hanging over his head.

Day had said yes.

And Lee, who had happened to come in, had agreed that their dad would be better off if he would have the promise of rest, instead of a life of heartache and loss.

That had been that. He had gotten the confirmation he needed from the two people it would most affect.

He continues, “I want my dad to start aging again. Not all at once, but just…from now on, his stopped clock continues. He doesn’t– turn into dust, or a fifty year old, or whatever. From the point his body looks like it is, it just continues at a normal rate. He lives his life n’ rests in peace. He doesn’t have to bury all of us n’ be left alone.”

Dropping to his other knee, he leans down and touches his head to the floor. “Please. Whatever price it costs, I’ll pay it. Let me make things interesting; let me shift the narrative. A new story, with new rules. A chance to remind us that we’re not actors in a show, we’re characters in a book.”

It’s a risk, using that kind of wording. But he’s banking on a rivalry between the Showrunner and the Scribe; on gods being egotistical and arrogant, and eager to prove that they are the highest power.

A sudden peal of laughter echoes through the shelves.

Startled, Theo looks up and–

The Scribe is laughing. It booms, echoing in his head with an aftertaste of things no mortal was meant to know, and that he knows better than to try and decipher. The mask shifts, the sideways eye turning into a sideways mouth.

A mouth with sharp, inky teeth. 

As the Scribe laughs, their arms spin around them, the hovering books they were writing in left unattended to.

He doesn’t dare speak. He doesn’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

Eventually, the scene ends. The arms stop spinning, and the Scribe stops laughing.

The mask, though, remains a mouth.

That mouth subtly shifts as they chuckle, “Yes, yes, this is what I enjoy! A bold, clever thing you are, trying to outwit me and gain the upper hand! Using your knowledge as such– by the Overseer, such a delight!”

Someone that the Scribe invokes like that must be above them. Despite his curiosity, he opts not to ask. He just files it away for later use.

They drift closer, making no sound but the soft rustling of paper. “For being so entertaining, I will grant you this. As for your price…hah. You are familiar with the story of Cassandra, yes?”

The prophet cursed to never be believed. He nods, steeling himself for that.

“And of Echo?”

Brow furrowed, he nods again. A nymph who could only repeat what she heard. Where is this going…?

“In a similar vein, Theseus, I will impart upon you knowledge. You will be unable to share it. Your tongue will fail you and attempts to circumvent this will cause you pain. This knowledge will eventually be known to others, but they must uncover it themselves. When they do, they will fall under the same geas. Only those aware of this truth will be able to speak of it to each other, and each other alone.”

A shudder goes down his spine. He’s making things harder for everyone else, but at the same time…

They continue, “And, additionally, you will have a second burden. This one you will similarly be unable to share, but once that one is known, its knowledge will not be sealed.”

Whatever he learns will doubtlessly fuck him up. He's not naive enough to think otherwise; though he's technically gaining something, he's still paying a price.

It’ll suck, he knows that much for sure. But…maybe he can find some sort of way to use these secrets to help everyone.

He might be getting too used to playing the hero.

Taking a deep breath, he nods. “I accept your terms n’ the burden of knowing.”

The Scribe laughs again. This time, though, the sound shatters the domain he was in.

He returns either to his body or to the real world– hard to know which– and starts hyperventilating.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Aster and Daz aren't seeing their future, they're seeing the first of many alternate timelines.

But, far more pressingly–

The Observers are named incorrectly. Daz had named them based on the assumption that they were being watched, which was what they all assumed.

But, no; they should be named the Readers.

They're not being watched, they’re being read.

Theo? You okay? What happened, did it fail? The fire went out after all that smoke blew in your face. You look like you're gonna cry, what's wrong?

He opens his mouth, trying to blurt out the truth, but–

The words stick in his throat.

…The Fates weren't there. They don't know the secret.

Tears slide down his cheeks and a sob is wrenched out of his chest.

Nobody knows either secret, and thus, he alone is burdened with knowing.

He's not Daz; he won't be able to hide his distress.

Especially not from his dad.

Fuck. He'll have to come clean about what he's done.

First, though, he’s going to have a breakdown in the bunker for a while.

[infinitethree]

i'm

i

i'm

I'M LIKE YOUR TUBBO??/

INNITT!!!

i. this is a positive reaction by the way

*so many hugs*

i'm honoured!!!

oh!! by the way! you've been referred to by it/its by default, but do you have other pronouns you prefer?

oh and we can't forget the food.. how about some eggrolls andd pancakes?

Innit perks up as Asher scrambles into its arms, their paws patting excitedly at its face.

It beams, hugging them as they chitter at it. “I'm glad you're happy with that. You're here the most, and you– you really care, y'know? So…so, of course I treasure you. I'd be crazy not to.”

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.

Especially some powerful ones. Ones who can raise a huge stink if anything happened to them.

[infinitethree]

“No, what the fuck is wrong with you,” Daz says, annoyed as he takes the knife away from Aster.

His– whatever they are to each other– glowers at him as he yet again demonstrates how to cut vegetables.

“It's going to be cooked anyway,” Aster complains.

He scoffs at him. “Cutting them so haphazardly fucks up how cooked they are. The tiny ones will be overcooked, the big chunks will still be half raw.”

Rolling his eyes, Daz tells him, “Just go sit down. I clearly overestimated you. I swear to fuck, if anyone knew how dogshit you are with cutting something–”

Aster  evidently annoyed by the dismissal, leans in and murmurs, “You’re the one who marries me. I wonder how many times you'll take care of me before we…how do you put it? Die of old age together in our sleep?”

Heat blooms across his face. “Shut up, that's–”

He's dragged into a vision again.

Aster stares at a loaf of crafted bread that's visibly been tampered with.

Dream laughs as he looms above him. “Weren’t you hungry? I can hear your stomach from here. Go on; eat up.”

Looks like weakness. Better than poison, Aster thinks, taking the loaf and scarfing it down.

And then another vision.

The two of them are snuggled up together on the couch, a blanket over them. There’s a movie on, but Future-Aster can't stop looking at Future-Daz.

As his fingers slowly twist around fluffy, golden curls, Future-Aster suddenly murmurs, “I'm yours.”

The future version of Daz snaps his attention to him. A shy smile creeps up. “Yeah?” “Just like you're mine.”

Back in his own body, Daz fights the surge of misplaced longing he feels.

They're not that close, not yet. Just because it happens eventually…

Goosebumps rise on his arms as Aster suddenly asks him, “What does it mean when we tell each other ‘yours’ and ‘mine’?”

He jolts, his earlier blush morphing into a fire. He's sure his face is as red as a tomato right now. “I–! It’s– it's an admin thing, it's–”

“I don't think I should be having this much fun making you flustered. But also…you do kinda deserve it,” Aster hums.

He glares at him. “Fuck off. Don't abuse what you learn about me like that.”

It startles him when he's suddenly backed against the counter. Aster is too close, and there's this look–

“Do you have any idea how much it hurts to see inside your head?”

…What?

Aster stares at him, voice low as he continues, “It makes me feel like a piece of shit for never noticing you quietly bleeding out in front of us. Your nightmares– how many nights did you wake up choking down screams and then text me a stupid question, because you were terrified I was dead?”

There's a lump in his throat and his gaze skitters away. He lost track a long time ago.

With a shuddering breath, Aster rests his head on Daz’s shoulder. “Do you have any idea what it's like to realize that while I was resenting you, your mental stability hinged on whether or not I told you what my least favorite kind of fruit is at four am? To know your nightmares are haunted by me being dead or suffering a fate worse than death? That–”

Horrifyingly, Aster’s breathing hitches and there's a dampness at his shoulder.

“That I was so fucking important to you, but you hid it behind being a bastard! If you had just said something–!”

Daz awkwardly hugs him, shifting his weight to be a bit more comfortable.

He knew his mind was an ugly place, but he hadn't really…given much thought to how poorly Aster, of all people, would be handling it.

For some reason, he didn’t expect it to really phase him. For a while he was sure that it would be used against him, but instead…it’s like it’s a bigger weakness for Aster.

“It wasn't just you,” he tries to reason.

Pretty sure that's worse.

Aster tells him, shoulders shaking, “Don't fucking lie to me. Not about this. Your nightmares about me are uniquely horrible. When I'm dead, I look like I've been mauled. When I'm not, death would be kinder.”

No matter how much he tries to wrack his brain for which ones could have triggered this sort of response, he can’t think of any that are especially bad.

Yeah, that's the point. They all suck. Kinda funny how he often has such a big role, though. Sure you weren’t into him already?

He’s not going to dignify that with a response.

Daz swallows. “I can see how that would be…upsetting.” “I resent seeing it, and then I feel even worse because you don’t get a break from this– this bullshit.”

On impulse, he frees Aster’s hair from the low, short ponytail he keeps it pulled back in. It makes it easier to be able to card a hand through his hair, trying to mimic the motions that soothe Daz.

Seeing Aster, of all people, break down like this…hurts.

It hurts, because he knows Aster is strong. He’s stupidly, superhumanly, impossibly strong, honing himself into a deadly weapon to protect those he loves.

Seeing someone break down like this reminds him too much of–

Of others. Wilbur, Dream, Innit. Himself, maybe. The rug getting yanked and showing that what he assumed to be floor was nothing more than sand that simply hadn’t shifted yet.

In a desperate attempt to stop that sand from collapsing entirely, he murmurs, “I’m used to it. I don’t know how to be any different.”

It’s not even a lie. He’s lived with nightmares for most of his life, though they only got this bad in Sanctuary. Before, he could mostly tolerate them…though with Dream, he didn’t need to.

And then everything went wrong, and his safe haven turned into a waking nightmare.

“That makes it worse,” Aster mutters, and at that point Daz realizes that dinner is pretty much impossible.

He gently lifts Aster’s chin up. “Go get ready for bed. I’ll clean up real quick and join you. Getting this emotional is exhausting, you’ll end up passing out in the food anyway.”

For a long moment, Aster searches his expression, and then scoffs. “Not like I could tell if you were hiding something,” he mutters, and Daz feels a pang of guilt.

Still, he confirms, “No. Not unless things were really bad.”

Aster steps away, and for a split second Daz feels surreally unmoored without his weight.

Metaphor, Innit hums, once again playing the unwanted peanut gallery.

Once I'm out, you won't have to deal with it any more. 

True. Daz makes quick work of storing or trashing the ingredients, turning appliances off, and making some sandwiches so they don't go entirely hungry.

He opens the door and finds Aster anxiously messing with his earrings on the edge of the bed.

Daz sits next to him and offers a sandwich.

Aster wordlessly takes it and starts eating.

Once Daz finishes his food, he finally talks. “You shouldn't feel guilty. I'm a good liar, and I know how to make you overlook things you'd otherwise question. I spent years making sure you never liked me too much.”

“Which you're aware is fucked up, right?”

He sighs. “Can you really blame me? In my shoes, with that belief– that pattern…would you really not make plans?”

Aster is quiet.

Slowly, he says, “I see the logic, yes. But that doesn't mean it doesn't kill me to know you’ve lived with that for so long.”

“Nobody would believe that between us, you're the one with a bleeding heart,” he huffs.

Aster twists to look at him, brow furrowed. “You care, too. You care enough to be the unflinching support the server needs, both openly and not. You care enough to see the potential in four people who were floundering. You care enough to build a fortress for someone who you want to keep safe.”

He swallows. “Those were for my own benefit.” “You think the rest of us got nothing from working with you? C'mon– don't make it a double standard,” Aster scoffs.

His future partner continues, “Like I told Day– you built us into who we are today. You're somebody precious to us, no matter how much you don't want to accept that.”

Daz’s throat is tight as Aster cups his face and presses their foreheads together. In a voice heavy with emotion, his something says, “I dunno if I'm in romantic love yet, or anything. But I know I already love you platonically. You have been a central pillar of my new life. Everything I have now, I can trace back to your influence. Let's not kid ourselves; my relationships with Theo and Lee are as strong as they are because of you. The support and guidance you've shown me is clearer than ever, now that you're not trying so hard to make me hate you. I keep finding new ways you’ve helped me without ever taking credit for it. How can I not love you for that?”

I don't think he ever could have killed you. Not for real.

Yeah, Daz is beginning to suspect that, too.

Is this really how Aster feels about him? It's not that he actually thinks it's a lie– he knows Aster too well to think that– it's just that, well…

It feels strange. He worked so hard to keep a gulf between them, yet they're closer than ever.

Some deep part of him– not Innit, an actual instinct– purrs, mine.

So he follows his gut and murmurs, “Saying yours and mine reinforces a claim. Admins need claims to function properly. A two-way claim is…really, really important. Being allowed to claim someone is monumental as it is. Having that claim reciprocated is something else entirely. Being reminded of that kind of claim makes an admin feel more secure in it.”

He hesitates a moment, then snuggles up to him. Into Aster’s chest, he admits, “That’s why I used to braid Dream’s ribbon into his hair every morning. It reinforced our bond and reminded him that I cared about him in that specific way.”

Aster’s arms wrap around him like a habit. It feels warm and strangely safe. “Day called me a while back and asked what would happen if someone I had a duo with lost their half. I didn't really understand then, but…claims aren't just signifiers, are they? To an admin, that is the bond.”

“Rejecting a claim item is like rejecting the admin. It– as far as we could figure out, claims are like…a form of protection. A warning to others that harming a claimed person will invoke the wrath of the admin who loves them. So by rejecting it, it's like a– a signal that we're not good enough to do that. That we're unworthy.”

Aster’s breath hitches. Quietly, he whispers, “Oh.”

Daz peers up at him. There’s a stricken look on his face.

“Tubbo was the only one who accepted you until Dream. He didn't understand, but he did it because you needed it. If admins need people who they've claimed…”

Heart aching, Daz admits, “He kept me sane most of my life. I loved Dream and wished he had been my brother, but Tubbo already was my brother. The Dream SMP was meant to be a paradise. A land of peace and safety, where I wouldn’t ever have to be lonely or scared. A place where my family– my real family, the people who loved me more than anything– where they would be happy and protected. As long as I had the two of them, I would have been happy.”

“And then you lost them both in one fell swoop.”

“Yeah. I lost the only real family I’d ever had, my mentor, my sense of safety, my peace of mind, my plans– fuck, I was going to have everything! I was going to be an admin, standing side by side with my mentor! Tall and proud and worthy, unable to be hurt or taken away from the place and people I loved. That server was my home, that base was my home!”

He started gripping the front of Aster’s hoodie at some point, the dam of memories and emotions too overwhelming not to reach for an anchor. “And it was my fault! That stupid fuckin’ enchantment was my idea! Dream hated it– he fought it over and over and over, and it was me who kept pushing for it! I wanted us to be safe, to have peace of mind– to give us an edge so that even if someone fucked around, we would be alive to make them find out.”

Aster is quiet, letting him get it out. He just strokes Daz’s hair, because he’s probably learned that’s one of the best ways to calm him down.

“But that stupid fuckin’ bastard got in the way. He tried to use me as bait– would have killed me, if they fucked the potions up. Almost did it anyway, from magic overload. Dream was terrified to even try a totem, y’know? That’s how much magic was in me. Even after the effects were wiped, I spent the night sobbing and having seizures in his arms. Whatever control Dream had– whatever kindness he had left? It shattered. That single fuckin’ act, it triggered everything. But the enchantment…that was me. That was my fault. I should have pushed harder for an item. It would have been so easy to enchant an anklet or something, but I was stubborn. So was he.”

It was what we thought was best. How could we have known it would end like that?

“We wanted to give him peace of mind. He was so scared something would happen– that I’d be in danger. We thought…we thought that if we had protection in our very souls, or respiration, or whatever, that he’d breathe easier.”

We were proud of it, though. Proud that he needed us so badly.

“We were his only hope. His– his sun. His heart. We hollowed out his chest and made it our home. Every time he chose us, we rejoiced. Our base instead of the Dream Team house; his days spent in our company instead of with his friends. His nights protecting us from nightmares. Teaching us everything he knew and delighting in how we grew, and grew, and grew. We were a force to be reckoned with,” Daz murmurs.

Aster is watching him, still letting him get this out. But, softly, his friend and future partner murmurs, “You’ve become the king of rabbits, haven’t you?”

It makes him laugh, softly and sadly. “Even a mouse will fight, if cornered. Don’t we embody that?” “We do. Pyrrhic victories were good enough for us, as long as those bastards lost something, too.”

He shifts to snuggle closer, hands tangling in Aster’s hair. “I think I’m starting to see why I fall for you. You’re a good person, Aster. I don’t…I don’t think I’d want someone else to see my past. Or be my future.”

Aster toys with a strand of his hair, and from the tone of his voice, it sounds like he’s smiling. “You wanna tell people we’re dating, then?”

“...Yeah. I– I think that’d be nice.”

Daz grins, shifting to look up at him. He was right; Aster’s expression is warm. “You’re not ready for being taken on dates.”

“If you take me to Serf and Turf, I will walk out, consequences be damned,” Aster warns, eyes thinning a little.

He scoffs, “No, no, that’s too obvious. If I was going to mess with you…hmm. You’ll see. But, nah, I mean just– real dates. Sanctuary has a lot of fun places I know you’ve never even heard of. Plus, I dare you to tell me you wouldn’t want to team up for Bedwars.”

Aster’s eyes light up. “Nobody would stand a chance.” “It’d be really funny to do it as a training exercise, you know.”

There’s a bright, cheerful laugh. “That almost sounds cruel.” “They’d just take it as a challenge,” Daz scoffs, “The Swords and Shields aren’t going to bow out just from getting nuked from orbit.”

He’s glad the topic shifted, because this sort of banter is a lot easier than the heavy stuff from before.

Voice still warm and fond, Aster hums, “Thank you. I’m honored you shared some of your past with me like this. It means a lot. Any time you want to talk, I’ll listen. About your past, about your present, about dumb things that bother you. If we’re gonna have a family eventually, we should…get used to that kind of communication.”

Daz’s throat feels tight, and he finds himself blinking tears away. “I– yeah. Uhm…yeah, you– you’re right,” he mumbles, feeling oddly shy.

Aster smiles, and lets his hand drop. “I’d lay down right now, but you’re not ready for bed. I don’t wanna risk falling asleep without you.”

He feels his cheeks turn pink. “I– uh, why?”

“I don’t sleep as well. I get restless and wake up over and over. So you help me too,” Aster answers.

Daz…doesn't know how to answer that.

He's reminded of Dream, who said something similar. How he just– could sleep easier, with Daz curled up in his arms.

For once, the comparison to Dream doesn't grate against from as badly. Of all the things to have in common with that bastard– and Aster really does have a disquieting amount of them– this is one he can accept.

It's good he isn't making things worse, anyway.

You probably gave him a shitload of new nightmares, Innit unhelpfully points out. Your mind sucks to be in.

Daz sighs, reluctantly getting up. He really doesn't need Innit to ruin this moment more.

I'll ruin your weirdchamp budding romance once I'm free, it reminds him.

“Yeah, yeah, you know I'm working on that,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. To Aster, he says, “I'll go get bedworthy–” “Bedworthy?”

Aster incredulous and amused tone makes him grin, too. “I mean– my bed is nice, yeah? Can't just get in with anything.” “At this point, it's really more our bed. And I say that's stupid.”

Daz blinks. It's…a fair point.

Actually, do beds count as assets? He’s pretty sure houses do, but he’s unsure about furniture.

Huh. Something to look up, he supposes.

Well, it's not like it really matters. Future-Aster is completely and utterly smitten with him, and Daz sure as fuck would never consider a divorce.

Come to think of it, he's going to need to smother his future husband and current boyfriend in so many gifts.

Especially clothes. He'll have to inspect the construction of Aster’s current wardrobe to dissect and improve.

And if he sneaks in some swirls or hidden golden thread, well…

Hey, it'll get the point across.

Because Aster is his now. They know they get married and have a family together, yeah, but not many others do.

But dating and visibly being claimed would–

Wait.

He realizes all at once that he wants to claim Aster. He wants to create something for him, wants to make an item to declare that nobody is allowed to harm him.

And he knows what he makes, right? It's a bit grating to just copy it, though, almost like cheating–

You know, Innit murmurs, an odd tone to its voice, I'm pretty sure the timeline changed a bit. I don’t think the versions of you you’re seeing saw the future. If things have already shifted, I don't see a point in doing the same claim. Do something new.

That's…a fair point, albeit a distressing one.

He's gotten attached to the sweet, stubborn kid he keeps getting glimpses of. He's gotten attached to the life he sees, too.

If things have changed, how much of that will be different? How much of the future he sees is already or will become impossible?

It's something to discuss later. For now, all he needs to focus on is getting ready for bed and sleeping.

How wonderful, to be able to look forward to falling asleep. How precious, to know his sleep will be gentle and unburdened by nightmares. How lovely, to feel safe in someone's arms again.

Much like Aster, Daz doesn’t really know if what he feels is romantic love.

But he’s familiar with platonic love. He can’t help it; he’s an admin, and when he cares, he cares deeply.

Aster has been in his heart for longer than he's wanted to admit. Not solely, of course, and definitely not romantically.

But he’s still been there. He's been there physically, too; despite the bullying and active attempts to piss him off, Aster has been a bedrock. 

They’ve been united in their goal in a way none of the others are. They definitely care more than average, sure, but he and Aster are just…devoted.

And that level of devotion will be directed at each other, eventually.

It would be terrifying if he didn't know that Aster will care for him so deeply. It's impossible not to notice; any time he's in Future-Aster's head, he's mushy and warm and adoring.

He's a simp, basically.

Maybe that's what he needs, though; someone who he can truly let down his guard with. A person who loves him enough to start a family with him; a person who he can spill his secrets to and then have his tears wiped away and fears soothed.

It sounds so wonderfully impossible, yet he knows it's real.

[infinitethree]

“I don't understand how you're still sane after dealing with him for so long,” Day bitches.

Aster snorts softly, a bit glad that he has more people to commiserate with over Daz.

They hadn't even been discussing him. They were catching their breath after a sparring bout– two to one in Aster’s favor, which of course does wonders for his ego– at the training area in Summer Hills.

This place is one of Theo’s stomping grounds, even though it's technically meant for the entire family.

Leaning back on the bench as he enjoys the breeze, he answers, “Sanity is relative. I do end up marrying him, after all.”

“Only sounds more like bullshit,” Day scoffs, clearly salty about something.

He considers his own feelings.

…Honestly? Seeing a softer side of Daz, and knowing some of the most gnarled parts of him…it’s impossible to hate him like he used to.

All the snarling, biting, and fighting were ways to protect himself, after all.

And to protect the rest of them.

Granted, he’s pretty sure Daz does genuinely have a fucked up sense of humor and a struggle to empathize fully with others he doesn’t consider his, but still.

Sure, Daz can act the part, but Aster suspects that those mentally sorted into being the out-group– aka nearly everyone– just kinda…fail to register as full people.

They're puzzles to be solved, informants to exploit, and sheep to pacify lest they try to revolt.

…At least, that's what he suspects is going on. He could be wrong, who the fuck knows? Even with the glimpses he gets into Daz’s mind and life, it’s nowhere near the full picture.

But that's contrasted against how deeply Daz cares about those that are in the in-group.

Hell– he, personally, has seen the shift from being treated like an outsider to an insider.

He does suspect that he was always considered an insider, just kept at arms length because Daz believed in his curse. Having a way to end things was more important than Aster’s feelings, thus Daz had to be quiet about how he showed his care.

It's also really hard to be pissed off at him when he looks so peaceful when he's cuddled up in Aster’s arms.

It…kind of feels nice, actually?

He's not really sure it could be called love, not really. But it feels good to fall asleep with someone beside him– someone who needs him there.

It's not hard to clock that his own rest is better, too. He expected the opposite, but…

Maybe, despite everything, Daz is just a reassuring presence.

“He’s not that bad,” he finally answers. “Not unless he chooses to be. Or if it's one of his fucked up trauma responses. But you forget– I've seen the nasty side of him, sure, but I've also seen the good sides.”

Day makes a face. “You sound like you're falling for him.” “Maybe? I don't know what that's like. My heart doesn't race unless he does something to make me anxious or angry or scared. I still think he's got a habit of being a shitty person. I don’t spend all my time thinking about him.”

Aster shrugs. “I mean…he’s definitely an acquired taste who you have to approach in specific ways. He's a minefield and stepping on a mine ruins everyone's day. If you can figure it out, though…”

He trails off, considering how to phrase it.

After a few moments, he takes a deep breath and begins. “Me, Raine, Khons, Aleph– we'd be worse without him. You have to understand– our willingness to stand behind him isn't unearned. Daz saw four people with potential being wasted, and decided to build us up. I can tell you, without exaggeration or hyperbole, that Daz made us who we are today.”

Day’s lips tug into a frown. “Made as in supported, or made as in reshaped?” “A bit of both.”

He withdraws his axe, Comet Strike, letting the sunlight glint off of the enchanted netherite head.

“I can use this because of him. He made a bet with me, kicked my ass, and then made his prize teaching me. I was already pretty decent by then, but…”

Aster smiles softly at the memory. “He’s why I started using axes. Told me I'd never beat Theo while mimicking him– that I needed to do my own thing. And he was right! Once I changed my approach– after he taught me– I finally started winning tournaments.”

He laughs a little, putting the weapon away. “I didn't get shit from Dee until a while later, after I was able to consistently stand toe to toe with Theo. I can pretty confidently say that my relationship with both Theo and Lee is as good as is because of Daz’s machinations.”

As if to prove his point, he brings a hand up to touch his pair of earrings. The more he learns about how precious claims are, the more honored he is to have them both.

Sure, Theo isn’t an admin. But he was raised by one and has spent a long time traveling and relying on one.

The lack of a spark doesn’t erase that Day is still instinctually an admin.

Claims– and duo items– are incredibly important. Only Lee and Day are admins doesn’t erase that fact, nor does the rest of the family giving out items far more freely.

Earrings, however, are capital-I important to the family. The fact that, thus far, only Aster has formed a bond worthy of one post move to Sanctuary…

That’s a huge deal. He knows that it only adds to his mythical status; from a powerless mostly-dead street rat with nothing to his name but the spite in his veins, to The Comet, a force of nature who stands toe to toe with the strongest fighters of Sanctuary…and wins.

Someone who calls Theo– a myth in his own right in multiple aspects– and Lee– admin-in-training, beacon of sunshine and hope, and beloved fixture of the server– his not-quite brothers.

A person who serves as living proof that anyone can become powerful, if only they decide to buckle down and git gud.

All of that is thanks to Daz.

If Daz had never reached out his hand, he never would have formed the Swords & Shields or Council. He never would have learned from Daz and become the force of nature that he is today. He never would have given countless people the confidence of knowing that if things ever went wrong, they could defend themselves and their loved ones.

He wouldn’t be Theo’s equal. He wouldn’t be Lee’s not-quite-brother. He wouldn’t even be speaking with Day like this.

It’s a debt that he’s never forgotten, nor can he ever hope to repay.

Day is watching him, clearly digesting this information. “...And the others?”

“Khons and Aleph would have never interacted with anyone else outside of their prior groups. They’re more comfortable now and are able to make sure that hybrids or other nonstandard races are able to have their needs met. It gives them both a strong sense of pride and a sense of security,” he answers.

With a grimace, Aster continues, “Raine…shit, I've watched him come into his own. You've seen it, too– he was practically glued to you at first.”

There's a nod. “Raine was…an awful case. I just figured having friends made him bounce back.”

No shit. Raine had been terrified of any benchtrio member, especially Tommys. Even Theo, who literally helped saved him, was treated as an active threat.

He shakes his head. “The more important thing is that, as Daz likes to put it– he has way bigger monsters who are in his corner. Between Daz and I, he feels safe. More than that, though? He's got power of his own. You underestimate the healing effects of giving someone powerless a place on a secret Council who quietly holds a lot of power. Is the premise insane? Sure, we know that. But it's a cause we believe in…and it was started by a person we believe in.”

Day seems doubtful. “The caustic, angry, paranoid bastard who lashes out instead of talking about anything?”

Aster stares at him. Does he seriously not…?

No, wait, he might not.

Sucking a breath in through his teeth, he replies, “I say this with affection–” “Or you could not–” “But, Day, the person you described is literally you.”

There’s clear offense at that, from the way that Day’s wings flare out. “I am not–!” “Remind me how the server’s admin feels about you, again?”

The immortal glares at him, visibly resentful of the reminder. “That’s different.” “No shit. But it’s not that far off, honestly.”

Day grumbles, his wings snapping once in annoyance. “Starting to miss when you were wary of me.”

Aster’s eyebrows shoot up. “Bold fuckin’ words from the man who bawls like a baby when he gives me away at my wedding.” “I–”

Making a face, Day mutters, “Still very surreal to think about that happening.” “Theo cries when our daughter first says his name, so, y’know…”

For several moments, Day seems to digest that. Then he says, “...Daughter, huh?” “Mhm. Azira, we get a surrogate. Daz is her bio dad. From what I saw of her– admittedly, not a ton so far– I believe it.”

He taps the corner of his eye. “She has the same eyes.”

Head tilting, Day points out, “You two have the same face, though?” “Nah, not the shape. The color. Even before mine got fucked up, they were never anywhere near that bright.”

“...Mine are duller, my second life.”

By now, he knows what it looks like when the wheels in Day’s mind are turning. There’s a soft furrow to his brows, his gaze sliding to the ground or a wall.

Slowly, Day murmurs, “Daz, Lee, Lucid. What do their eyes have in common?”

His heart skips a beat. “Really, really vibrant colors.” “Mine dulled when I traded my spark.”

Day straightens, staring at him with wide eyes. “Sparks are genetic. You’ll be raising not just any kid, but an admin.”

He’s sucked into another vision.

Azira scowls at future-Daz, who feels a sense of fathomless joy he does not let show on his face. “Zira, you can’t just ignore your coding lessons to go play.”

Their future daughter, who looks to be about six or seven, whines, “But they’re boring!” “But you need them.” “I hate working on the console, though!”

Future-Daz hums, pulling her into his lap with ease. She wraps her arms around him, pouting with adorable puppy-dog-eyed energy.

Even despite not really knowing her, Aster finds himself wanting to bend to her tiny whims.

He’s going to be helpless against her, isn’t he?

But Future-Daz laughs softly, tapping her nose with his finger. Confirming his suspicions, his eventual husband tuts, “That works on your Papa, not me.” “Cruel, evil, wretched Daddy,” Azira mutters, her sullenness amplifying.

Yeah, that vocabulary tracks with being Daz’s flesh and blood alright.

Warmth fills Future-Daz’s heart. He so clearly adores her, and every time Aster sees her he feels more and more fond. 

“Hmm…what if we make a deal? You do the lessons– actually do them– and we do fun stuff afterwards,” Future-Daz offers.

There’s immediate interest. “Like what?” “You can decide. If it’s within reason, or you can make a good enough argument for why I should let it happen, then you can pick anything.”

Azira’s eyes go wide, and she scrambles to shift around so she’s able to shove her wrist upwards. “Deal!”

Aster is left speechless and even more attached to her than ever before.

Knowing that she’s so precocious and clever makes him want so badly to have her in his life now. He knows it doesn’t work like that, and that it’s a terrible idea to rush things for a dozen reasons, but–

But, gods. He’s already looking forward to the day he can hold her in his arms and watch her grow up.

He whispers, “She– she is. Gets a console and everything.”

Day can’t help but laugh a little. “Fuck, yeah, I bet she does. For all that I have issues with him? Can’t really argue that Daz is smart. And, well…San seems pretty damn attached to admins. No way they wouldn’t throw a fit until Lucid agreed.”

“He’s one of San’s favorites,” Aster huffs. He knows that because Daz has bitched about it repeatedly…not that Aster is gonna admit as much where San could hear about it. 

He continues, “They’re probably beside themself over the idea of Daz’s daughter being the first admin born on the server. Or, uh– probably, at least.”

Aster shrugs. “Who the fuck knows? We could very well wind up with a refugee who comes in already pregnant, and the kid happens to be an admin. Hard to guarantee much, with how weird shit gets for us.”

Day huffs softly. “...Any idea of timeframe?” “None. I know we don’t take that long to get married, but that’s different. Uh…we look older, with Azira, so I think we do take our time for her.” “Makes sense. Marriage is a lot as it is– but a kid is a whole other ballgame.”

Amused, he points out, “You’re pretty much the only dad we know.” “I know nothing about infants, I’ll warn you now.” “Yeah, but once she’s older…” “I also know nothing about raising girls.”

“You still know how to be a parent. Especially to an admin.” “Mhm…true, I guess. Really doubt Azira will be anything like mine, though,” Day sighs.

When Aster tilts his head to the side, Day points out, “Five out of six were traumatized before I adopted them. Lee– okay, well, technically he probably was, too? But he doesn’t remember it, given the whole…memory wipe thing. Which functionally means he doesn’t remember it, so he doesn’t really have that baggage. So I had five sets of trauma to help unpack, and one flurry of trying to stop my kid from trying to breathe underwater or eat glass.”

A shudder goes down his spine. “Or jump off a roof because Theo is there to catch him.” “Yeah.”

They’re silent for a while, and then Day asks, “You know, both you and Daz have insisted you get married relatively soon. He claimed it’d be within a year. Why?”

Aster blinks. “Oh, uh– well, I mean…for me, at least, I could see Lee. He doesn’t seem much older than he is now. Ages are tricky for me to tell, so I’ll believe Daz’s estimate over whatever I could come up with.”

“...Are you two even dating?”

He makes a noncommittal noise. “In…a manner of speaking…”

“Aster.”

With a sigh, he admits, “We have a deal. He cooks for me, I sleep in the same bed so he can actually get some rest.”

“...What.”

Day seems confused, and Aster realizes that he might not be aware of the horrific insomnia.

Because Daz would be furious if he says too much, he tries to be extremely careful with his wording. “Well, uh…he kind of wasn’t sleeping before. I…I saw one of his nightmares.”

He's yanked into a vision.

The grave that held Tubbo has expanded to rows. The T3, Council, and Lee are laid out inside. Some only have small bloodstains at the heart, but others…look like they fought.

Daz's Dream stands at his back, a hand on his shoulder. “They all came running from just that. It's funny how easy it was to deal with them…but that's my protege for you! You knew how to get rid of them.”

Hands soaked in blood and trembling, Daz whispers, “They were trying to save me.” He looks haunted and like he wants to slide into one of the graves himself.

“Save you? Why would you need saving?”

Dream spins him around, a manic expression on his face. “This is where you belong. This is our Paradise, Tommy!”

Aster stares at a mangled vision of himself– mangled like he had fought like an animal and then put down like one– before everything abruptly changes.

The whole of Sanctuary is a blackened husk, blood raining down on the bodies that carpet the ground.

Daz stands in the wreckage, staring numbly at the only other survivor…at Aster.

“It's your fault,” the nightmare version of himself screams. Righteous fury is etched into his expression. “I trusted you! And now– now, everyone is fucking dead, we're trapped in a dying server, and I'm going to make sure you pay for what you've done.”

Daz doesn’t fight it when he's grabbed, feeling in his bones that he deserves whatever punishment he's given and more.

Fuck, this is the shit that drove Daz to try and kill himself. He's so terrified of others being hurt because of him that he would rather self-immolate than risk it.

Nausea roils in his gut as he’s snapped back to reality. He has to hang his head down, squeeze his eyes shut, and take slow, deep breaths.

It's not real. Daz’s ruined psyche was throwing the worst things it could at him.

When he’s no longer at risk of puking he lifts his head again. Day is watching him, visibly concerned. “Everything okay?”

“No. Yes. Sort of, it's–”

Fuck, Day might be able to help here, right?

Inhaling sharply, he admits, “Daz’s nightmares are– miserable. He thinks he's a failure as a friend and admin.”

Day’s mouth forms a grim line. “How bad is it?” “Everyone dies. If I think about how many times he must have seen us dead and then went about his day like nothing was wrong– I might scream.”

Naturally, he's shown something to make it worse.

Daz stands outside Raine's room from the balcony, looking intently at the lump of his best friend under the sheets. Dawn hasn't even broken yet.

His shoulders slump with relief once he sees enough movement to believe Raine is still alive.

And then–

Daz sits in the hideout under his house, anxiously jittering his leg. He stares at his com, then looks at the clock, then back. It's the wee hours of the morning again.

A near-sob of relief escapes when he gets a reply.

ShiningAster: why the fuck are you bothering me about this at 3 am

RazzleDazzle: woke up thinking about it. Answer my question, bitch.

ShiningAster: i dont have time to read

ShiningAster: which is YOUR fault remember

RazzleDazzle: skill issue tbh? I do more and have time for books.

RazzleDazzle: try gitting gud?

Aster feels sick again.

He fumbles with his com, scrolling through the chat logs.

Daz loves to bother him with questions at unreasonable hours. They're pretty much never important, so Aster long since dismissed them as a facet of the bullying.

It never crossed his mind that Daz was groping for an excuse to get any sort of response to make sure he was still alive.

Fuck, most of their conversations start at weird hours. Scrolling back, he tries to figure out timing.

He stops at an instance where he didn't respond. He's not sure why; time has erased whatever made him not give Daz the reassurance he secretly needed.

Pieces click together, because going down to his next message only a day later–

ShiningAster: ANOTHER FUCKING SURPRISE PARTY?!

RazzleDazzle: Ooh, caps and an interrobang! I feel special :D

ShiningAster: i hate you so fucking much you bastard

RazzleDazzle: Is that REALLY something our shining north star should be saying to poor widdle Dazzie?

ShiningAster: fuck off you fucking sociopath

In his gut, he knows the truth– that it was retaliation for not answering.

Daz needed Aster to hate him, or his precarious mental state would crumble further. But he also needed Aster to be safe and alive, or he'd be even worse off, so–

“Wait, was he the one behind all those fucking surprise parties?”

Aster jumps, having forgotten Day is right there.

He blinks, and nods. “It's– he wanted me to hate him, remember? Fucked up insurance policy against himself.” “Still–” “If someone kept bothering you at weird hours with stupid questions despite supposedly hating your guts, what would you think was going on?”

Day isn't anywhere near stupid enough to fail to understand who he means. Still, the immortal mulls over it for a few moments.

“...That they wanted my attention.”

A bitter laugh escapes him as he stows his com and puts his face in his hands. “Years, Day. I spent…years, thinking he was just being annoying.” “Yeah?” 

There's a lump in his throat. “He was making sure I was still alive. But if he just asked like a normal person, it would be suspicious. So instead…instead, he did things to get a response. I just– just assumed he was being a dick. But this…”

Voice laden with concern, Day asks, “...Are you doing okay? Because I can't help but notice you're, uh–” “Daz’s head is a fucking miserable place to be. I hate learning more, because it’s always depressing. The future is such a relief, because I don't feel like an idiot for failing to catch something–”

He's cut off with another vision.

The future versions of himself, Daz, and their daughter are in what looks like a blanket fort. Azira seems roughly around Lee’s current age, so maybe ten or so?

She looks like she’s been crying. She’s clinging to Future-Daz, who slowly cards a hand through her hair.

Future-Aster murmurs, “She’s finally calmed down.” “I don’t blame her for freaking out,” Future-Daz sighs, looking pained. “But it still…”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s not like she really understands how ugly the world can be. She’s never seen you as anything but completely loving. The idea of revoking a claim would never have occurred to her.”

Future-Daz grimaces. “I wish we didn’t have to do this now.” “But she understands, once she learned that it won’t happen to her,” Future-Aster tells him.

The future version of himself reaches over and plays with his husband’s hair. “Get some rest. We’ll be right here.”

There’s a long, searching look, and then Future-Daz sighs softly. “You don’t need to stand guard.”

“But it’ll make you feel better. Nobody expects either of us to do anything tomorrow. We’ll have a lazy, family-bonding day. Maybe go over to Summer Hills and watch some movies with them. You know they’ll be happy to reassure her. Day has threatened to steal her enough times that I’m starting to think it might not just be a joke.”

He blinks as he comes back to himself.

Immediately, he teases, “How’s it feel to know you’ll have a granddaughter?”

Day huffs, “Not sure I like being a grandpa, but–” “You're old as balls and have six sons. Frankly, it's a minor miracle none of them are interested in anyone where that's a risk…yet.”

There's a laugh of, “Shut! Don't curse me with that!” “Hey, remember how me and Theo are so damn similar? And if I'm not actually aro/ace–”

Day wheezes, “Fuck off, I don’t need a second hellion like that!” “Third,” Aster smugly points out. “You give me away, that makes you kinda a parental figure.”

“Changed your mind on that, huh?” “I'll point out that there's not really another option. Who am I going to ask– Lee? Theo?” “Theo would be funny, gotta admit.” “He'd hold it over my head for eternity. And we both know you're not actually against it, Day.”

They both laugh. It's nice that the earlier distress has faded into this.

He's going to choke down the bile from thinking about how ruined Daz is by focusing on something lighthearted.

Otherwise, he might head right into a breakdown of his own.

[infinitethree]

Daz, Lucid, Day, and Lee are all sitting together in Lucid’s cabin.

It’s the easiest place for them to meet for this– Daz’s house comes with blackstone exposure, Day’s entire area is basically guaranteed to have interruptions, and everywhere else they have control over poses other challenges.

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.”

Yeah, whatever is going on in there is definitely not something he wants to be privy to.

[infinitethree]

The group of people gathered is eclectic, to say the least.

Jeste, the Punz from the SMPza; Spark and Caper of the Prank Guild; Quizzy, making a rare appearance awake; and, lastly, Raine.

The purpose of their gathering is pretty obvious, at least. There’s some sort of poker game going on.

“C'mon, you gotta give us more than that,” Quizzy begs Raine, who shrugs a little. “Not unless you win, Quiz.”

“Real fuckin’ cruel t'bet such juicy gossip,” Caper huffs, looking quite a bit like he’s sulking.

Flatly, Raine responds, “I can always call Aster instead so he can give you the scoop himself. I'd love to watch you try to explain how you're trying to dig into his personal life.”

His smile is a technically-pleasant one that he learned from Daz.

Spark laughs nervously. “Hey now, there's no need for that–” “Or there's always asking Daz. Oh, wait– you did.”

Which had ended with Caper and Spark feeling guilty and learning nothing, because Daz wasn't interested in telling two notorious gossips why the fuck he and Aster were now awkwardly flirting at the Swords and Shields.

Usually it would be Daz here. He's a stickler for socializing, because he turns it into information gathering. 

But he had called out due to fatigue and, most likely, an attempt to avoid having to deal with the questions that he’d be badgered with. In a fit of boredom, Raine had opted to show up in his place.

Whereupon he learned that his two best friends are the hottest gossip in town.

Given what they've put him through over the years…he feels justified in dangling little morsels over this group's head.

Spark protests, “We weren’t trying to hurt his feelings!” “He can be touchy about certain things,” Raine shrugs. “It’s easy to forget, but my best friend is extremely traumatized. The wrong words at the wrong time send him into a tailspin.”

The fun part about that statement is that it’s entirely true.

He smiles at Jeste, who is still studying his cards. “C’mon, we don’t have all day.”

The guy sighs deeply and sets his cards down. “I fold. I try not to lose too much money here.”

“You play poker with Caper. Losing money is inevitable,” he answers.

Said Tommy makes a noise of offense. “The fuck does that mean?!” “You’re a ruthless capitalist. You’re literally in a capitalism groupchat. You’ve also had fuck only knows how long to hone misdirection and deception,” Raine scoffs.

Quizzy laughs. “He’s got you read for filth.” “Shut! I am not ruthless. I’m a fuckin’ bleeding-heart do-gooder.”

Spark pats his shoulder comfortingly.

Ah, there’s the Observer he could sense.

Because he’s got the most experience with questions, he answers first. “Sanctuary is my home. I’d be dead without it, and so would almost everyone I’ve become friends with. Anyone left alive would wish they were dead.”

Quizzy nods, the little ornaments on his jagged diamond horns swinging with the motion. “Things were bad in the SMPza. Atlas was trapped and his family wasn’t gonna leave him behind. I didn’t have a lot keeping me there besides him, so…following was an easy choice.”

Arms flung out, he exclaims, “And I love it here! Pranks are a part of life, I can get rich as heck, and there’s always something new.”

Jeste flexes the hand of his artificial arm. “SMPza was a hellscape by the end. I lost my arm to the Egg. The rest of me wouldn’t have been far behind. Even before then, though…it wasn’t a good place. I like it better here. It’s…fair. People are taken care of and treated with dignity. The jobs I get asked to do are less grim. Instead of trying to protect someone from a murder, I’m asked to stand guard while someone sets up a prank.”

The heads of the Prank Guild glance at each other. Caper speaks first. “Time loops were fuckin’ miserable. There were some good times, yeah, but it was…fuckin’ scores of years. Probably a few hundred, even. Nothing I could fuckin’ do but– flail uselessly. Try not to go fuckin’ crazier than I already was.”

“I don’t miss the Vault,” Spark says with uncharacteristic bluntness.

Caper leans against his side as his friend continues, “I don’t miss everything being erased. I don’t miss feeling alienated from everyone because I can’t– the person they knew the day before hadn’t been be for ten, fifty, a hundred years. It was hell.”

The two timeloopers seem somber for a moment, before Caper takes a deep breath. “But here? We’re fuckin’ free. We’ll age n’ die like we fuckin’ should. Our skills n’ shit– we can make people laugh n’ be entertained. We can get filthy fuckin’ rich n’ make friendships that won’t fuckin’ vanish.”

Impulsively, Raine reaches over and pats his hand. “And you have stupid amounts of power.”

“Gods, I love the fuckin’ power,” Caper agrees, grinning at him.

He flips his cards over. “Full house, by the way.”

Caper throws his cards down. “Fuck off!” “Yeah, I can’t beat that,” Quizzy groans, scowling at his own cards like they’ve betrayed him.

Spark grins and spreads his own cards. “Royal flush, stormboy.”

Extending his hand and making grabby motions, the Dream demands, “Fork over the info, I’m cashing it in right now.”

Because he’s not going to reneg on this, he answers, “Daz has been cooking most of Aster’s meals. They’ve gotten pretty close.”

“Holy fuckin’ shit. Are they– Raine. Raine. You’d fuckin’ tell us if they’re dating, right? Right?!”

He shrugs. “Probably! Assuming they put an actual label on it.”

The table is dead silent.

Slowly, Spark says, “They’re both kind of freaks of nature– in a positive way, I mean. But they’re weird, is my point.” Quizzy breathes, “We have no idea what dating would even look like for them. And Aster is so secretive…”

It looks like Caper has an epiphany. “They’re already fuckin’ dating n’ just not calling it that.”

Because he is, at heart, a troublemaker, Raine hums that little wedding tune under his breath as he shuffles the cards.

If his best friends want to get mad at him for this, well…

They can fuck off, frankly. He’s been in the middle of their unreasonable bickering for years, and besides that– they’ll get married and eventually have a goddamned kid.

It’s his turn to be petty and childish. He’s earned it.

[infinitethree]

Lucid!! I haven't talked to you in a while!! How are you and San doing?

Lucid jumps a little at the sound of that question.

He's been deep in codework, trying to figure out the best way to program Innit’s body.

It’s a lot more intense than what he usually does, in all honesty. Not only is he having to alter the code of two extremely mistrusting admins, but he’s helping create a body from scratch.

Not just any body, of course– a body that suits Innit’s needs.

As shitty as it is to say, this has much higher stakes than usual. Fucking this up could very well lead to Daz and/or Innit being maimed or killed.

Codework always has risks, and he never wants to hurt anyone. He’s never liked altering mobs, let alone players.

Daz, though…Daz is someone he knows. He’s attached to him– not just because of his shiny false persona, though.

He’s a person who has shouldered the impossible, unenviable burdens of both newcomer orientation– a hell in its own right– and secretly being the first and last line of defense if something goes wrong.

There have been some talks with Day, and more with Lee. That’s not even counting what Daz, himself, has told him.

The scope of Daz’s efforts just on the surface are breathtaking. Adding the hidden ones, the ones that only a scant few people knew about until recently…

Lucid is sort of humbled and awed by him.

Maybe a little weird to say about someone who holds him in such contempt, but also, Lucid still feels queasy when he thinks about the wreckage of Daz’s code.

Saying that it’s miraculous that he’s still alive isn’t an understatement. It makes– a terrifying amount of sense that the program not only wasn’t meant for that, but that it wasn’t even remotely ready for human testing.

How the hell can he blame Daz for his lack of trust? From what little Lucid has learned about his original Dream, he was someone who may have had an even more intense desire to be fair than Lucid did…before he snapped when he was pushed too far.

Someone like that, someone who Daz clearly trusted, being the one to hurt him so profoundly…

That’s the big reason he marvels at Daz.

Lucid struggles to be around most Quackities and Sams, after all. He avoids them as much as possible, and most of them understand.

The fact that Daz puts himself in such close proximity to Lucid on a regular basis at all is kind of a miracle. His mistrust and anger are pretty understandable– even moreso than when they all thought that his original Dream was just a pure monster.

That kind of betrayal cuts deep. When you put every ounce of your faith in someone, only for them to plunge a knife into your back…it’s a special kind of hell.

It was bad enough when his friends distanced themselves from him. It had hurt like hell, but now he knows that they just didn't understand why everything went wrong.

Daz’s Dream, though? He understood exactly what he was doing. Soul erosion or not, he would have been acutely aware of the unspeakable trauma of not just failing to protect a claimed person, but being forced to kill them with your own hands.

Lucid being good now can’t possibly erase that, one, he’s fucked up before, and two, that there’s no way to know if or when he might snap again.

Even aside from that major reason to be impressed by him…well, he’s kind of enjoying being taught by Daz. It might come with a heaping side of snideness and sneering, but the way he thinks about code is fascinating.

Daz is smart. Daz is one of the vanishingly rare types of born admin with a spark. Daz is a pillar of Sanctuary, holding his hand down on the scales to stop the server Lucid calls his own from going into a tailspin.

So, yeah! He’s kind of frazzled, because he’s terrified of the consequences of fucking this up.

It would ruin him emotionally and socially, and potentially ruin the whole damn server.

“Tired,” he answers, squinting at the clock on the wall and realizing that it’s four in the morning.

…And also that Hope is pawing at his face.

He tells her, “Sorry, sweetie. I got caught up in coding.”

She meows with a distinctly reproachful tone, her tail lashing a few times.

“It’s an important project. I’m not making a habit of it– once this is done, things will go back to normal,” he assures her, scooping her into his arms as he gets to his feet.

His body aches from staying in place for so long, but it helps to move.

…Also that he’s got heated floors.

Sometimes, especially during winter storms, he could just about kiss Vio for that choice. He knows it must have been expensive, and yet the alien did it anyway.

Out of faith that he could do better, be better, if he was treated with humanity, dignity, and a little kindness.

Oh, and bullied into actually dealing with his issues. That too.

He coos to his self-appointed therapy cat, “You’re such a fuzzy little snowball, yes you are! My little guardian angel snowflake.”

He kisses her little nose, getting a few licks in return. Laughing, he whispers, “Don’t tell the others, but I’m gonna give you some treats.”

It isn’t until they get to the kitchen that he sets her down again. He’s long since given up on keeping any of them off the counters, but Hope gets a double pass. She only really hops up when she’s trying to get his attention or otherwise has a good reason.

Unlike the others, who just try to steal his food or get in the way.

As Lucid makes a sandwich– giving his special girl a few bits of it as payment for her services– he resumes his response.

“San is still reeling from everything, to be honest. I get the impression that you all knew already, but it’s…weird. Daz has always been a bright, cheerful person for us, so learning he’s– like that…it’s a lot to wrap our heads around.”

His server tells him something he can’t understand; a previous question, the day they learned about the Showrunner, then curiosity.

It takes a few increasingly frustrated cycles before Lucid remembers what had been asked on the day San is showing him.

He was told he's among the favorites of one of the Observers.

…The same Observer who also told them to be kind to Innit.

The same Observer who is currently checking in on him.

Huh. He’s…not entirely sure how to feel about that?

Good seems like his predominant gut feeling. Surely an entity who likes him and San wouldn't beg for mercy for someone who would destroy the server, like Daz has argued Innit wants.

He chews on his thumbnail a moment, then asks, “You…said I'm your third favorite, right? And you definitely like Innit, too. So…who's the other one in your top three?”

He blinks and then adds, “If that's fine to ask, I mean. I'm just curious if there's, uh, some kind of similarity there. Observers know a lot about us, but we know almost nothing about you.”

San ever-so-helpfully shows him the point of that meeting where Aster told them that Innit is friends with three of them.

He amends, “Well, aside from Innit. I'm sure you've told it plenty about yourselves. But I can’t really ask it that, y’know? Not just because it'd have to go through Daz–” and their relationship did not seem good, “--but also it's a bit weird to go behind the back of entities that can just…watch us.”

And torment them, if they so chose.

Lucid is aware of the occasional, cruel questions lobbied to some parties. Maybe not the details, but he does know they happen.

So pissing off the Observers and risking that sounds stupid as hell.

No; it’s better to play nice and not make waves. He'll be polite about this sort of thing, but unless he's told to back off he's still gonna ask.

Turnout is fair play, after all.

[infinitethree]

It’s only a week into his time more seriously going to the Swords and Shields’ training hall that someone suggests that Daz take part in a training exercise.

The idiot who suggested it was clearly trying to do it as hazing– to make sure he understood his place.

Unfortunately for him, he picked one of the worst possible ones.

Blind man’s bluff– a game in which one person is blindfolded and has to try and suss out the location of nearby hiders. Once located, they need to hit their target with something.

It’s a terrible pick because, see– Daz helped get this specific one as part of the roster. Once Aster started bringing in games like Bedwars and Manhunts for training, Daz kept an eye out for similar things that could be of use.

He sees Aster immediately clock that not only is this happening, but that Daz will make them regret trying to test him.

His eventual husband looks vaguely pained as he says, “I’m…not taking part in this. To ensure it’s fair, I’ll only be observing.”

The group thinks that he’s being harsh to Daz, when really, he’s just saving his own skin. Daz knows more about Aster’s behavior and physicality than most of the hopeless idolizers in this group could ever fathom.

In short, Daz would hit him first and hit him hard.

Setup is fast. Aster gives him a dedicated bow and arrows, letting him get a feel for it before tying the blindfold on.

“Go easy on them,” Aster pleads as he spins Daz around, voice quiet enough that it won’t carry. “I’d rather die,” Daz hums, equally quiet, but also cheerful and petty.

A long, tired sigh comes from Aster, even though Daz knows damn well he sleeps just fine.

Retreating on light footsteps, Aster barks with surprising authority, “Ten seconds!”

Daz stays completely still, cataloging where everyone goes. It’s not hard– they’re in the fairly small cafeteria and there’s barely more than a dozen people present.

Audibly resigned, Aster announces, “Go.”

He doesn’t need any hesitation before firing shots– one, two, three, four, all in a cluster.

“Holy shit,” someone breathes, and promptly gets shot for it.

There’s a protest of, “That has to be cheating–” “I’ve had eyes on him since this was suggested. He hasn’t opened his console, nor taken anything. I tied the blindfold and gave him the bow myself. Are you calling my integrity into question, Lorne?”

A meek mumble of, “No, sir,” comes, along with an annoyed huff from Aster.

Out of spite, Daz shoots them again despite them being out.

“Hey, what the fuck?!” Aster tells him, “Don’t hit people that aren’t active, Daz.” 

He shifts his aim around, giggling, “Oopsie, my bad! I thought there was a mouse over there.”

There’s a soft huff of laughter, and he fires at that person. Based on a muffled squeak, he fires another.

After several long moments of failing to hear anything else, he slowly makes his way around the room. Avoiding the tables is easy, because he’s easily able to orient himself based on the hum of the vending machines against one wall.

There are only tiny tells that give the others away, but it doesn’t matter. Soon enough, Aster tells him, “Congratulations, that’s one of the fastest times I’ve seen.”

He smiles brightly as Aster undoes the blindfold. There’s a wry smile as his future partner says, “So, you know– good job.”

In a move he knows is going to ruin Aster’s entire week, he flings himself forward and hugs him tightly. “Yay! I’m sure they went easy on me, but that’s okay! I’ll get good enough that I can beat them when they really try.”

Someone says, “Uh, maybe you shouldn’t cling to the boss like that–”

He looks at Aster, who is completely rigid and seeming to struggle to react properly. “Star, does this bother you? You’d tell me if you were mad at me again, right?”

Aster looks away as he awkwardly pats Daz’s hair. “It’s– I would, yeah.” “And you’re not saying anything, so…”

“Daz.”

He giggles, beaming brightly at him. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist!”

There are several long moments of silence, during which Daz does not let himself enjoy the hand on his head or think about how it’s both familiar and not.

Then Aster clears his throat, and Daz sheepishly withdraws. “Sorry, I’m just really clingy with people I like.”

“People you like?” The question from a nearby Puffy makes Daz giggle again. “I mean, like– gosh, Aster is super admirable, you know? That kind of strength is like…super impressive, especially when you’re starting from like, nothing. And– I mean, I’ve always thought that? From the first moment I met him, he’s kinda been larger than life!”

Like he’s shy, he steals glances at Aster, whose eyes abruptly go wide.

“Wait,” he says, a rushed tone to his words that makes Daz deeply curious what he just saw, “was that…”

There’s a moment of hesitation as Aster seems to work out how to phrase what he wants to ask.

“Daz, have you given me special…wait, what’s the usual budget for clubs and groups?”

Ah, so he finally found out about one of his little secrets.

Deliberately donning a nervous look, he laughs and stammers, “I, uh– I mean, it’s not really– I’d have to look, you know?”

“I’m going to assume I got much more than usual, then. Where did the extra money come from, Daz?”

He pretends to try and come up with another answer, and then makes his body language deflate.

Awkwardly, he admits, “I paid for it myself.”

There’s a long, tense silence, and then someone asks the obvious question of, “Paid for what?”

With a little shrug, Daz fiddles with his earrings. “You know, uhm…startup costs. Not– not all of it, there was still the usual stipend, but I kinda…maybe…”

He gestures at the room around them. “Uhm, paid for this. Like, the building. And the planning. The stipend mostly went to, like…some equipment and upkeep and stuff.”

It’s really, really, really obvious that Aster is having a bluescreen from trying to accept this information.

But, what– was Daz supposed to let this be shitty?

He’s rich. He’s been rich for a long-ass time. His pay compared to his spending is completely unbalanced without even touching his extra trade deals.

This is his project; his goal. Not leveraging his resources properly is stupid.

Aster, an unfamiliar tone to his voice, asks, “Why?”

Though he knows what Aster is actually asking, he answers, “I have, like, lots of money and I super believed in the cause. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make sure it was as good as it could be, you know?”

With a little laugh, he admits, “It’s kinda nothing for me, anyway? I have, uh– I get paid a lot. Like, a lot a lot.”

Because it’ll be good cover, he perks up. “Oh! I can show you, maybe? I’ve seen what you do here, maybe you can come see what I do? I know you’re kinda a hermit on your days off–” “Which you know how?”

Daz blinks at him a few times, then cocks his head to the side like it’s confusing why he’s asking. It’s all for the ruse; he knows Aster is a hermit because he had to threaten the idiot into bonding with the Swords and Shields outside of training.

Barbeques, and thus Aster’s grilling setup, were Daz’s idea-slash-demand.

He answers, “We live next to each other, duh? Also, like– you kinda draw attention, and people talk when you go places. That means that it’s abnormal for you, so like…it’s kinda obvious you prefer being at home.”

Then there’s a soft, wry huff of almost-laughter from Aster. “Alright, I guess. Might as well see what the hell you even do to get that kind of money.”

Good, that'll provide a reason for this. No sense in being sloppy about that, after all– not when that kind of thing would lead to some messy questions getting asked.

Cheerfully, Daz says, “I’m one of the highest-paid people on the server! Only Management gets more. I’m, like– not to sound like I’m bragging, but I do kinda do something really important.”

A Dream, baffled, asks, “What’s important enough for that scale of a paycheck?”

Daz hums, cracking his neck as he mentally orders what he does in a day.

“I mean…I, or other Welcome Wagon employees, are the first consistent contact most people have. Even for exceptions like Protege Tommys or other stuff that involves drawn out code alteration, we visit and ensure everything is taken care of. A non-exhaustive list of our responsibilities include coordination for housing, therapy, banking, coms, and groups of interest; obviously orientation is a huge deal, because, like– information gets lost in the shuffle otherwise, leading to people being confused and frustrated; we provide temporary shelter and supplies while long-term plans are made; we help those who decide that Sanctuary isn’t to their liking in finding and getting prepared for going to a new reality…for people who have been here a while, we’re also like an information desk. You can stop by and we can tell you or direct you to things to do, places to eat, maybe even stuff for, like, weddings!”

He beams at the way that list has made everyone have a sudden and near-violent reconsideration of what his workload is like.

Also at the way Aster chokes a little at the word wedding.

I thought you were being nicer to him, Innit huffs, and Daz retorts that it’s funny to bully him like this.

With another giggle, he repeats, “But that’s, like– not everything. I’m sure I’m forgetting stuff.”

Then he steps forward and grabs Aster’s arm. “Since we’re sparring buddies now, I made lunch!”

As expected, Aster perks up. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Because it’s a habit and because he’s himself, Daz teases, “Careful, I might start to think you’re, like– starting to crush on me.”

Aster extracts his arm and ruffles his hair again. “Blame yourself for being charming, then.”

Daz freezes, bluescreening as Aster gives him a smug look and turns to walk away. With a little wave, he’s told, “When you’re ready to eat, I’ll be in my office.”

In his head, Innit cackles mockingly at how easily it got flipped around on him.