#InnerInnit

[infinitethree]

Given the nature of the information they're dealing with, the decision was made to drag Vio and Lucid into the mix as well.

Aster is relieved that Daz agreed to do so. He’s even more relieved that because Lucid is involved, they can't meet in the secluded bunker of the Council HQ.

It's a dual-purpose meeting. Firstly and most importantly, they need to share the information they learned about the Showrunner. 

Not just the new stuff– though those bombshells are, of course, the driving force of this. The older information that the Council is aware of will have to be shared, too.

Secondly, though…they need to figure out how to free Innit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuckin’ shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

“This is so fucking weird,” Lucid mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The room is quiet.

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

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

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

Aster huffs at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Theo repeats, “He was six!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This’ll be fun to discuss with his therapist. The poor Puffy has no goddamned idea the shit he’s kept bottled up until now, but it’s beyond time that he start doing so.

[blueconure]

Imso excited

[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]

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]

INNIT HELLO! I finally get to speak to you! You're one of my favourites! One of my- because I am physically unable to pick one or rank them. Unless we're going with the order in which you became my favourite- in which you would be second place, but only because I knew about Vio far before I knew you existed! (You wouldn't believe how I felt after seeing you were shut off AGAIN- the Showrunner- or Scribe- or both or whatever, very cruel. CRUEL.) But I am getting horribly off topic. You! Innit! Is there anything you want? Things, information? I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to give but I sure will push the limits! I've seen you like physical affection, though, and you deserve all the hugs and head pats in the world!

*hugs Innit (with enough time for it to pull away if it wants to) and gives many many headpats*

Innit perks up at the new entity that enters its space.

An adorably round, silvery, slightly wispy raccoon bounds up to it. It laughs with delight as its new friend scrambles up its sweater to perch on its shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about your name? I think that would be a good place to start.”

[infinitethree]

AH SHIT NO INNIT I SAID THAT BEFORE ASTER OFFERED TO SET YOU FREE

god why do i always say the wrong thing that brings you down :(

*lots of hugs if wanted*

Innit buries its face in the fur of one of its only friends.

“It’s fine,” it assures them, though its voice says otherwise. “I– if I know now, then I can try and make sure that he doesn’t know until he can’t take it back.”

That point may have already passed, granted.

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

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

Well, honestly? It was kind of charming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he’ll even be a friend, at least until he abandons it like everyone else.

[infinitethree]

Innit is downright giddy.

Finally, finally, things feel like they’re working out. For so long it has nothing, but now–

Now it has friends. It has friends, a powerful ally, and someone who wants to give it a body.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Despite the bastard seething with resentment, Innit is thrilled.

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

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

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

It feels like the floor falls out from under it.

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

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

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

…What if he changes his mind entirely?

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

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

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

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

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

Even if he forces it into isolation, he can’t completely cut it off. If it stays in Sanctuary, it has to be seen by a therapist. It will have its friends, too, so…it will manage.

[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]

My name? I wasn't planning on giving out my name, but just for you, Innit! I go by Asher around here! Also I'll live on your shoulder now, if that's okay.

Also also! I drew you and me :D

What do you think? I know there are some artistic liberties heh

Unlike when others are given art, it seems as though Innit receives such things as a tangible object.

It is no longer completely shocked when things are given to it. Delighted, of course, but receiving gifts no longer feels entirely alien.

A wide grin splits its face as its clawed fingers delicately trace the lines on the paper in its hands. No art has ever seen quite so incredible as this; masterpieces of all-time geniuses pale in comparison to this seemingly humble drawing.

And that is for the simple fact that it was created for it. Someone drew something purely out of a desire to give it something.

Sniffling, it carefully sets the drawing aside to be able to gather the shimmering, pale blue and lavender raccoon into a hug. The creature chitters and pats its head, seemingly happy to have gotten such a positive reaction.

“I love it,” it laughs, tears pricking lightly at its slit-pupil eyes. The raccoon withdraws a small handkerchief from seemingly nowhere and dabs at its eyes.

Its ears angle downward at this particular question.

Bitterness sings in its heart as it thinks about how that bastard abandoned it in favor of that Trojan-horse child.

What it wouldn’t give to dig its claws into his chest and trigger a few dozen respawns. Death is too much of a mercy for that wretched thing– it wants him to live in fear and suffering.

Suffering like what Innit endured for years on end because of him. Because Daz chose that child over someone who was a part of him.

But saying as much risks upsetting the Observers. They don’t seem hateful towards the child, and thus, Innit can’t afford to be seen as irrationally aggressive again.

“My opinion has never mattered,” it mutters, staring at the cup in its claws. Its grateful for something to do with them, lest they try to find something– anything– to rip into.

It takes a sip and smiles softly. The taste is dulled by fear and worry, but it still says, “It’s nice. Thank you.”

It tilts its head in confusion, unsure why its friend is saying they miss it when they’ve been talking.

…Oh.

Swallowing, it runs its claws through the raccoon’s fur. “...You’re delayed for me too, aren’t you? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were waiting…”

The rest of the message only makes it confused. As much as it’s tempted to panic about their friend’s cooled anger towards Daz, there are more pressing things to focus on.

Mind-numbing terror can happen later. Despite what some think of it, Innit understands how to prioritize. And also how to shove ugly things inside of a box never to be seen again.

“I– yeah, I’d appreciate that. But what do you mean, you’ve seen what he could be like? Are you–”

It laughs a little, almost disbelieving it could be the case, “Are you seeing other timelines? And– and he’s…no. No, he wouldn’t– couldn’t be good. Not to me…never to me.”

Innit’s tail lashes a few times, then curls over its leg.

During the time it was imprisoned, it fantasied endlessly about what-ifs and how things could have gone better.

But that’s pointless. And knowing that happiness was a coin flip away would only make it hate Daz more for the cruelty of this failed bet.

“Asher, you’re already on his shitlist. You clearly know more than a little about us, so you should be well aware that we’re not the sort to forgive easily.” It gives a faint smile and suggests, a little bitterly, “You’re probably better off trying to push him into a complete mental breakdown. Given sufficient motivation, those idiots will put their heads together and figure out a way to make you suffer, too. As much as I hate that bastard, I will reluctantly acknowledge that he’s the lynchpin for that sort of thing.”

It accepts the food and the headpats, smiling at these little gestures of kindness.

If nothing else, it can rest easy that Daz won’t get these any time soon. 

[infinitethree]

daz you confuse me

anywho! why must you call me an asshole? i haven't talked to you in A While! maybe i'm nicer now!

admittedly i was kinda rude to you in the past. maybe when Innit's got a separate body i'll apologize!

you do have to understand, though, that the level of civility you give to Innit, is the level you'll receive from me! at least from now on! which will probably actually matter as i plan to talk to you more-

ta ta then!

Daz glowers at the wall when he hears that.

It’s not like there’s a tangible form to glare at, so generally a wall, floor, or ceiling is the next best bet. Same thing with talking to San, just more annoying because of the nature of Observers.

He’s currently in his kitchen cooking a late lunch. Aster is watching him from where he's awkwardly perched on one of the stools at the counter.

“It hasn’t been anywhere long enough for me to believe that,” he scoffs. “But, hey, at least you recognize your faults! Maybe it can lead to some character growth.”

“Don’t taunt an Observer, Daz,” Aster sighs, brows furrowed in annoyance at him instead of at the divine messenger harassing him.

Daz knows what it looks like when Aster is annoyed with him versus with anyone else. The difference is subtle, but Daz sees it often enough to clock it.

Be nice to Asher, Innit hisses, making Daz roll his eyes. “They’ve made a habit of trying to get under my skin. You’re all insane if you think I won’t make jabs back, let alone play nice.”

Aster, evidently hunting for a different avenue of discussion, asks, “Hey, Innit– which one is this Observer? Like, uh– which of the critters.”

Innit audibly perks up. Raccoon! Asher is the best friend I’ve ever had.

There’s a pause, and then it adds, Not that I don’t appreciate the others. But Asher is– really special. 

Daz opens his mouth, but there’s a quiet murmur of, They’re like my Tubbo.

And…

He feels guilty.

It’s not like he wanted to lock Innit up. But he’d been left with no choice, and he knew that trying to backtrack would be suicidal.

Hell; the only reason he agreed to let it out now is because the Showrunner agreed to ensure that it couldn’t just do the whole sleep-deprivation-torture thing again.

Knowing Innit’s lack of agency in pretty much any matter used to make him angry. At him family for breaking him like that; at himself for being so easily broken.

But…

Well, it’s not like that’ll matter soon. Innit will get its own body– a project that never should have been needed and is years belated.

The issue with splitting them apart is that, well, Innit is functionally his admin traits personified. There’s not really a way to fully split them without it causing…issues.

The best direction that the assembled mods and admin have come up with is something close to a wireless link to an organic robot. Innit will still be grounded in his head, and as a safeguard it will be returned back if a respawn is triggered.

Its body will be fine, and is being developed as a sort of shell. It can remain in what’s functionally ‘stasis’ for weeks, maybe even months, without issues.

The body would need to be given nutrients and such in a hospital if it took more than a day or so to fix, granted, but it won’t die if Innit get yeeted back at a bad time.

That’s all assuming it works as intended, of course.

Something this complicated could very easily go wrong. They’ve been testing various functions on Lucid’s testing sub-server environment– a sort a blank slate space where simulations of code can be run.

Daz’s free time is mostly spent on this project. It’s a massive undertaking, even with two minds working in tandem and several helpers.

Because make no mistake; Daz and Innit are the leads on this.

Day and Lucid have experience with extreme codework, sure, but they’re not as personally invested in this as Daz and Innit are.

Lee, of course, is there more in the hopes that he’ll learn from them than anything else. There’s a slim chance his vibes will kick in and help, but nobody is really counting on that.

Heaving a sigh and resuming his meal prep, Daz says, “Asher is the raccoon.”

“If we’re right about the audience in the Showrunner’s domain representing the Observers– or are the Observers, not like we know how they work– then…they’re definitely one of the VIP ones,” Aster murmurs to himself.

Daz says, “My theory is the more they interact with us, the more obvious they are. So Asher was the most solid-looking one. Fuck knows who the other is– Break, maybe?”

Be nice to Break.

“Break is one of Innit’s buddies, seems like. What were the other two ones– a small dragon and a mouse?” He’s pretty sure he’s remembering that right, from when Aster explained it.

“Looked bigger than a mouse. Rat, I think,” Aster corrects.

If you really have to know, Break is the dragon. And, yes, the last one is a rat. I don’t know their name, so I’ve been calling them Mithra.

He frowns, going into the Welcome Wagon name database. It’s a handy resource for anyone looking for help in finding a new name, and thus is freely accessible to anyone.

His first try– Mythra– gets close enough to get the actual entry.

…Fuck, it’s an ancient god of light, justice, and friendship.

With a long, tired sigh, he sets his com on the counter and slides it over to Aster. “That’s what they call the rat one.”

Aster’s brow creases and a horribly pitying look creeps into his eyes. “You’ll…” He hesitates, and then continues, “You’ll both be happier when you can have some space. When Innit can have some control again.”

Daz’s com is slid back, and he adds, “You still need to pick a new name, by the way.”

It won’t feel real until I can touch grass and feel the sun. I don’t want to jinx it.

“There’s nothing to jinx,” Daz scoffs as he pockets his com and finishes meal prep and shoves it in the oven. Anxiety buzzes under his skin so he does what he does best and grabs the stuff to make a dessert.

Cooking is half art half science, but leans even more heavily into science when it comes to things like baking.

He decides on something simple enough that Aster won’t look at it weird and yet has a lot of intricate steps involved.

Continuing, he reminds it, “I can’t back out, remember? I made a deal with your– fuckin’ patron god.”

I have faith you could find a way around it, if you really wanted. If you thought I was unworthy enough.

That makes him flinch. He hates that they had such a comparatively brief time being as thick as thieves, and now…

Now any goodwill is shattered.

But Innit made the first strike. It attacked when he wouldn’t follow its will– how the fuck could he trust it any more after that?

There was no other option.

Instead of letting the silence linger more, he tells Aster, “I have tomorrow off. I’m going into the Swords and Shields before lunch, but I won’t stay for long.”

His evidently future husband blinks at him. “...Okay? I don’t know why you’re warning me.” “Do I need a reason to do anything?”

Aster gives him a withering look. “You’ve never done anything you can’t justify or isn’t because of your deeply fucked up and entirely unresolved trauma.” “I resolved plenty when I watched Dream bleed out on his stupid fuckin’ blackstone brick floors.” “You know damn well that wasn’t enough, Daz. How long have you woken up in a cold sweat from nightmares he caused? How much–”

Uhg, he catches the signs of Aster seeing something again. “Fucking Prime,” Aster mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face.

Resigned by now, Daz sighs, “What’d you see this–” “The cookies.”

He really doesn’t want to dwell on it, but the amount matters. “...How much.”

“I…I think it was a timelapse, sort of. So, uh, pretty much all of it.”

The look on his face makes Daz’s skin crawl. He wants to pick a fight, because it’s so much easier to accept Aster’s wrath than Aster’s pity.

He’s a good person, Innit repeats, almost like a warning. If you’re not gonna be good to him, maybe you should give up on him before you hurt him.

…What.

“The fuck does that mean,” he growls, bristling for reasons he can’t really put a name to. Hey, maybe if it’s just someone like you he’s into…I could give him a try.

Immediately, he snaps, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare you fuckin’ bastard! He’s–!”

He closes his mouth with an audible click before he says too much.

Fuck no, he can’t say that. It’s– it’s too weird, too untrue, too–

He’s what, Daz? Share with the class.

Through gritted teeth, furiously whisking the bowl he’s dumped things into on autopilot, he warns, “I’m not discussing this.”

Not like Innit has a chance anyway– Daz and Aster have been seeing the future, their future.

It’s…almost comforting, to have that sense of security. To know that no matter how miserable and painful it is right now, he’ll end up in a place where he’s happy.

But what if knowing is changing things? Maybe you’ve already started a new timeline, just by seeing it.

Maybe it’s not set in stone. Maybe the future is more malleable than you’re giving it credit for.

That’s…

No. No, he doesn’t want to– can’t believe that. Not when he sees something so precious and rare on the horizon– that ephemeral moonlight he can never hold onto–

Daz shakes his head, scowling. He’s not going to let these stupid mind games get to him.

He’s startled when he feels a hand on his arm, making him stop his mixing. He looks up and sees Aster looking at him with concern, having leaned across the counter.

“You okay?”

…Yeah, of course he’d be worried about this kind of thing. He’s weirdly purehearted like that– doesn’t like seeing others unhappy in front of him.

He sighs softly, forcing his body to relax. “...It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” “Daz–” “I’m not gonna talk about it with you. Push and I’ll make you go home without the damn food.”

Aster stares at him, but reluctantly pulls back.

“...Tell me if whatever it is gets to be too much. Please.” “Sure,” Daz lies, shrugging a shoulder.

He’s not going to discuss this with him any time soon, or ideally ever.

…Especially not the potential that things could be different from what they’re seeing.

Because a quiet fear has now nestled into his heart.

What would it take to push Aster too far and shatter that idyllic happiness they’ve been seeing? What would Daz be left with if the person who has seen him laid so bare decides he’s unworthy?

In his gut, he knows it would destroy him. He knows that getting confirmation that he’s truly too mangled and broken to love would kill him in all the ways that matter.

If he loses that future in his attempts to chase after it…what does he have left?

[infinitethree]

Daz is still in the hidden room, working on the code with Innit– which is surreally nostalgic– when Aster suddenly shouts at him.

“You planned to kill me just because I didn’t buy your act?! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He squints up at the traitor, needing a few moments to recalibrate to sudden conversation.

“Oh,” he says, blinking. “You were a threat. You still are, technically.”

Aster glares at him, and Daz rolls his eyes. “Save your bullshit. The more you talk, the less able I am to work on the damn code.”

Naturally, Aster is suspicious of that. “Code for what, some new sociopathic plan of yours?” Daz shoots back, “Innit and I are working on making its body, actually. Y’know, the thing you pushed for so bad?”

Suddenly, the bastard is in his personal space. He’s got one palm against his shoulder like he’s keeping him pinned back and growls, “You did something, didn’t you?”

It’s surprising to see him get so handsy. “Don’t fucking touch me–” “What did you do, asshole? We both know that you wouldn’t suddenly decide to be a decent fucking person without a reason. So– what. Did. You. Do.”

Daz’s sight is hijacked to see the past again.

Aster suddenly stops dead in his tracks in the middle of doing work in his office. He’s fumbling with his com, scrolling through the player list as fast as he can with trembling hands. His face has gone ashen and his thoughts are–

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck c’mon, c’mon you bastard, tell me you haven’t done it yet!

A shaky laugh escapes from Aster, but he only takes a moment to revel in the overwhelming sense of relief he feels. Not dead yet. Thank fuck…I might actually become religious from this.

Aster takes a sharp inhale and then quickly flicks through his com to find a specific menu, one Daz knows too well. It’s the one for activating remote stasis chambers, and thus the only way most of them can access the Council HQ.

I might kill you myself for this, though. Fuck, Daz– why do you have to be so broken…?

…Was that how Aster reacted when he saw that Daz was about to get himself killed for good?

A twinge of guilt threatens to tug at him, but he bats it away easily.

None of that would have happened if Aster stayed in his own fucking lane, after all.

He’s yanked to the future, which he knows is the future because Future-Aster is looking at Future-Daz, and he looks older.

Plus there’s the whole– sappy emotions, and the earcuff in Future-Daz’s ear.

The eventual version of himself is asleep on a couch that Daz hasn’t seen before. The room is unfamiliar, too– is this where they live?

Actually, from what he can see of a window, he sees some of those trees Aster loves so damn much. He must have remodeled the traitor’s house, then.

The weirdest part is that there’s a kid conked out on Future-Daz’s chest. She looks pretty young, maybe only four or so. Her hair is done up in pigtails and ribbons.

The ribbons are what gives it away, though. Daz knows his own handiwork, and he knows he’d be gun shy about giving anything like that to anyone, but especially to a kid.

Any kid but his own, that is.

…Shit, they have a kid? That’s so fucking weird!

Future-Aster thinks to himself, She looks just like him. I guess I’m just used to kids who are adopted; it still catches me by surprise. That’s genetics for you.

Daz is suddenly thrown back to the present again, reeling at the baffling and surreal implication that they– what, get a surrogate?

Uhhhg. Gross, on multiple levels. In no way shape or form does he want to– have any of that, and especially not with Aster!

Said bastard grips his shoulder and repeats, “I asked you a question–”

It’s not worth hiding it. He can’t effectively torment him without spilling the beans, anyway. “Made a deal with the Showrunner. I work on Innit’s body, meaning Innit can work on its body, and in exchange I see the same shit you do.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and then Aster scoffs and steps away. “You’re such a petty bastard.”

Even though it might prove his point, he retorts, “That’s not what you say at our wedding, you know.”

“Are you seriously going to–” Voice flipping to a mimickry of how Aster sounds, he recites, “ ‘I won’t say ‘til death do us part’. Death is too soon to let you go, so…instead? Instead, I’ll follow you through a hundred thousand lifetimes. Death, rebirth, oblivion– I don’t care. As long as you’re there, and as long as you want me…? I’ll follow you,’ ” Daz smugly tells him.

Aster glares at him with a surprising amount of venom, and then answers, “ ‘You stole my heart, but I can’t even be mad. Nothing in my life has been as good as you. Your devotion is the balm against the long, miserable, lonely years before I was with you. I can take on gods with you at my side, but without you I’m less than nothing. What I want more than anything is the die of old age in our sleep at the same as you. I love you to the point of madness; to the point of ruin.’ “

Goddamnit.

The bastard folds his arms over his chest. “You want to go low? I’ll match you. I’m not quietly putting up with your shit any more, Daz.”

He scoffs. “This’ll be fun to talk about eventually.” “Oh, I’m sure we’ll laugh and laugh over what an insufferable sociopath you used to be.” “No, I mean–”

Wait a minute.

He pauses. “...Have you seen anything big aside from the wedding and the– whatever the fuck you saw that had the suits?” “Christmas celebration, and no. Why, what did you–”

The wary question is cut off by Aster’s eyes suddenly going wide.

“Oh fuck no,” the bastard breathes. “A kid?!”

Uhhhhg, of course the Showrunner would decide to show him the damn kid.

He rolls his eyes. “Great, there goes that plan–” “To not tell me we have a goddamned child?!” “Well, evidently you adore her.” “I had fucking better, given she’s named after me!”

“Bullshit. She’s– uhg, apparently we do some shit with a surrogate–” “Then look up what ‘Azira’ means. Go on, I dare you.” Aster tells him.

He’d sound threatening if Daz wasn’t immune to him by now.

With a scoff, he pulls open one of the databases they use.

…Fuck. It means ‘a rising star’.

As he glowers at his com, Aster tells him, “I remember because it's a name related to stars. You know– my whole thing?”

“Clearly, I take pity on you and throw you a bone because I'm the biological dad.”

Aster stares at him, an odd expression on his face. “I– the rest of how fucked it is aside? That tracks. If I did love you and did decide to start a family with you, I'd rather– uhg, our kids, as gross as that feels to say– I would rather they have a shot at your freakish intelligence.”

…Huh. That's weirdly mature of him to admit.

“Granted, they'd also be at risk for inheriting your sociopathy, so maybe not. Tell me– was that genetic, or learned from your monster of a brother?”

Aaaaand there’s the loss of any goodwill that gained.

Sneering, he shoots back, “I know that about as well as you know if your stupidity is genetic.”

Aster’s gaze narrows, and he grabs a fistful of Daz’s shirt. “Careful, you don't want to piss me off.”

“Or what?”

A slow, ominous smile curls up on the bastard's lips.

“You made it so that nobody else can be an effective sparring partner for you. That means you're going to get your ass handed to you if you keep fucking around.”

He laughs in his face. “That’s your big threat?! Oh, honey…that's pathetic. You can't fully beat me up, you'll look like an asshole.”

Aster’s smile only grows. “You underestimate me, Daz. You always have.”

Is that really what he thinks?

Daz might have manipulated him, sure– but he always saw Aster as someone with potential.

That's why he extended a hand for the Council. It's why he pushed and bullied and forced Aster to grow.

Left to his own devices, he would be a fraction of the person Daz helped shape him into.

Aster, for years, held the most vital role in his plans. Daz never would have let someone he deemed unworthy control the Swords and Shields, nor hinge his last resort on them.

As little as he likes the traitor…Aster is competent, determined, and surprisingly humble.

He scoffs, “You understand me even less than before.”

With that, he forcibly removes Aster’s hand and gets up.

…Only to get hit with a dizzy spell and start going down immediately.

Aster catches him, probably without even meaning to. “Daz?”

Huh, he actually sounds worried.

Blinking dark spots from his eyes, he shoves his wrist upwards to look at his console. It takes a few tries to get it right, which he’s aware is a problem.

He struggles to focus enough to see the time, but Innit notes with surprise, it’s been sixteen hours since you ate. Were we really here for that long…?

Ohhhhh. Yeah, that’d do it.

He mumbles, distantly aware that the words aren’t coming out right, “Big pr’ject. N’t used to it. Forgot t’eat.”

He’s set down on the couch with a surprising amount of gentleness, considering they were fighting just a moment ago.

“I’ll be right back,” Aster tells him, going back through the passage he came from.

Right, sure.

Daz closes his eyes to fight the way his body is suddenly screaming at him to take care of it. He’s exhausted, starving, and sore from both the repetitive motions and not moving around much.

There’s the sound of a throat being cleared, and when he opens his eyes, two sandwiches are being held out to him.

…Huh. He didn’t actually think Aster would come back.

He grabs them and damn near inhales the food, ditto for the water he’s given.

Finally feeling a bit better now that he’s sitting and with something in his stomach, he asks Aster, “...Why?”

A long, tired sigh comes from the other Tommy, who sinks down next to him on the couch. “...I think you’re a petty, selfish bastard. But I don’t you to suffer,” Aster tells him, brow furrowed a little.

Weird.

“I still hate you for seeing in my head.” “Aren’t we even for that? I’ve explained my reasons. I reluctantly agreed once the wish was brought up; you did this all on your own our of petty spite.”

That gives him pause. “...You never mentioned it was reluctant.”

Aster stares at him in bafflement. “I was ready to refuse, but it’s a literal fucking reality warping wish– one I can hand over to anyone I want. There’s– shit, Daz, I might not have known but it was being offered by the god of time and reality. And fuck knows what else they reside over!”

He hates that he has a good point.

“I thought you jumped on the chance to pry my head open.” “I hated the idea, actually. I know you’ve secretive and I didn’t want to invade your privacy. But I assumed, stupidly, that I’d just– be told things. Like how Observers ask questions. In what fucking way was I supposed to know that I’d see things, and be in your head? I knew you’d be mad, but I, again stupidly, figured that you could recognize that the wish was worth the mortifying ordeal of being known.”

Daz knows he’s sulking as he mutters, “You could have asked me.” “Really didn’t feel like that was an option. Would you want to tell the Showrunner ‘please wait while I call up the guy you hate for permission’?”

Goddamnit.

See?! I told you he’s a good person!

“Shut up,” Daz mutters, scrubbing at his face. “I don’t need you yammering in my ear, too.”

Stop being a dick ‘cause I was proven right yet again. You always ignore me and it always fucks you over.

Aster asks, “Innit talking?” “Mhm. I’m not acting your gofer, you’ll have plenty of time to talk soon enough.”

There’s a little bit of blessed silence, and Daz feels his eyes getting heavy.

Fuck, he doesn’t want to fall asleep like this. But he’s tired, and…

And, as little as he wants to admit it, it’s nice to have someone next to him.

A small, stupid, childish part of him wants to ask Aster to stay right here so he might not be tormented by nightmares.

But also, he’d rather die than voice that tiny desire.

There’s a little disappointment as the other him starts moving, but it was inevitable.

Then he’s scooped up.

He sputters, “Wh– what the fuck?!” “Unfortunately for you, I know what you want. Even worse, I’m not enough of an asshole to refuse,” Aster tells him, just before tossing him onto the bed.

His heart hammers. “If you try anything weird–” Giving him a withering look, Aster snaps, “The fuck do you take me for? No, asshole, I’m dealing with your nightmares, insomnia, and touch starvation in one fell swoop.” The bastard undoes his shoes and flops down.

Oh hell no.

He tries to get up, but Aster yanks him back down. “I don’t trust you to get home on your own, and you’ll sleep like shit anyway. If you’re doing something nice– even if it’s for extremely fucked up reasons– I’m rewarding that by letting you actually fucking sleep for once in– what, four years or so?”

…It sucks that he can’t muster up the energy to fight this more seriously.

But, gods, real sleep sounds amazing. And his body is screaming for it, practically forcing it on him already.

So, reluctantly, he lets Aster wrap his arms around him and start messing with his hair.

“You can go back to being an insufferable asshole tomorrow. For now, just take this with a little grace.”

Daz can’t reply, because he’s already out like a light.

[infinitethree]

Daz is still recovering from the Showrunner’s display of power when his sight and senses are hijacked.

He’s yanked to another time, another place…another body.

A boot slams into what must be Aster’s stomach, hard enough that Daz can hear and feel something break.

As Aster cries out in pain, a hand grabs his hair and forces him to look up.

Dream looks furious. He’s definitely not an admin, based on how dull the green of his eyes are.

The asshole’s face is littered with scars. Some of them look impossible to have been inflicted in a fight– a handful even look like cigarette burns.

Interesting, but Daz can mull over that later. Dream snarls at Aster, “How dare you try and run away! You know what the price of that is, Nightmare.”

Between gasps of air and through his teeth, Aster hisses out, “Fuck you.”

And then he spits at his abuser, whose expression only darkens further.

Aster, and consequently Daz, is dragged by his hair to what must have been his cell. He’s thrown inside and the thick iron door is slammed shut and locked.

“You get to stay in there except for when I work on the enchantment. No food, no sunlight, no nothing– not until you’re under control.”

Dream audibly walks away, and Aster gives a weak, miserable laugh.

The asshole crawls into his shitty little prison cot, curling up in a ball.

Ranboo is in on it, Aster seethes, bitter and angry. He led Dream to me. If I had been a little luckier…

The thought trails off.

I’m gonna miss the stars.

And then Daz is shown something wildly different.

Thankfully, he’s not quasi-possessing Aster anymore. Instead, he’s sort of…vaguely floating above both Aster and himself as they stand in what is so obviously a wedding arch.

This is the fucking wedding, then?

And, sure enough– when he looks to the side, he can see Innit on what would be his side of the aisle.

Their friends and loved ones stand nearby, and Day actually looks like he’s tearing up a little.

Aster– Future-Aster– looks like nothing exists for him but Future-Daz. They’re wearing suits that Daz immediately can tell were made by him, and a pair of netherite earrings rest on a pillow on the little stand behind them.

Something tugs at his heart to see the set. It’s weird; he doesn’t want this, not even remotely, and yet…

And yet a part of him longs for that kind of commitment.

Ugh– it’s probably just a side effect of not letting himself properly claim anyone for years on end. Once he’s finished with the things for Raine and Lee, he’ll feel normal about this bullshit.

Future-Aster, hands gently cradling Future-Daz’s, stares at him with a big, dumb grin and says, “For a long time, I hated you.”

Okay, that actually makes him laugh. It’s a very Aster way to start something like this, that’s for sure.

“I thought you were hiding something sinister behind a shiny mask. I was sure that falling for the lie would be disastrous. But then…”

A soft, fond look enters Future-Aster’s eyes. “But then I saw the real you. And, slowly, I realized that you weren’t a secret monster. Traumatized to hell and back with fucked up coping mechanisms, sure, but not a monster. And…and I fell for you. I fell for you hard.”

Future-Aster snorts softly. “I know you had no idea what to do with my new feelings. But…I’m so fucking happy you gave it a shot. I’m the luckiest man in the world, because I’m marrying you.”

Bringing Future-Daz’s hands up, Future-Aster presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I won’t say ‘til death do us part’. Death is too soon to let you go, so…instead? Instead, I’ll follow you through a hundred thousand lifetimes. Death, rebirth, oblivion– I don’t care. As long as you’re there, and as long as you want me…? I’ll follow you.”

So please, Daz. Please don’t abandon me. I need you.

And then Daz is back in the Council HQ, reeling from the depths of how much Future-Aster meant those vows.

What the fuck happens that makes the traitor fall for him so hard?  More than that, what makes Daz decide to actually play along with– that?

He knows himself all too well. He knows his face, and critically– that his eyes can betray his feelings, for those who know how to look.

In the future, during that ceremony, he’s happy. Beyond happy; the awed, adoring expression, to Daz, screamed that it’s his wildest dreams come true.

It’s so strange. His focus might have been on Future-Aster, but he did look around at others. Lee was there, and…

And he didn’t seem that much older than he does now.

How fast can their mutual hatred flip into love? How does it even start, when they can barely stand to be in the same room together right now…?

There are so many questions that Daz has none of the answers to.

Maybe doing your fucking therapy makes you less of an insufferable sociopath, Innit huffs at him.

Great, just what he needs. Did it see all of that, too?

…Kinda. I think you see it clearly, and I see your view of it. It’s weird. But I don’t like that I’m forced to invade his privacy.

Yeah, well, it gets to contribute to making its own body, so it can consider that the price for that.

You’re such a piece of shit. I can’t wait to be free of you.

That makes two of them, Daz thinks as he gets to his feet. He closes the compartment that the 8-ball is in and then flops down on the sofa in the hidden room.

Putting his feet up on the table and opening his console, he tells his admin half that they should get started on this now.

Speedy of you. The faster this gets done, the faster Daz can have his head to himself again. Plus, y’know– the omnipotent god was pretty fucking clear that this isn’t even remotely optional.

Innit doesn’t offer any more snide comments, instead choosing to really dig into the monumental task ahead of them.

[infinitethree]

Like most Tommys, Daz doesn't easily let go of his spite.

Unlike most of his cosmic brethren, however, he's both positioned and skilled enough to forge his bitterness into reality.

It took him a while to decide exactly how best to cut that damn traitor off at the knees. After a while of slogging through all the new bullshit he has to deal with, though, he realized he had the perfect bargaining chip with which to strike a deal.

As he teleports into the Council HQ, Innit tells him, you realize you're the bad guy here, right? This is low, even for you.

Funny how quickly it turned into a simpering sycophant for Aster, of all people.

He's a good person who realized I deserve better than you.

Whatever; he doesn't have time for this.

Grabbing the 8-ball from its new hiding place, Daz says out loud, “I want to make a deal, Showrunner. I think you'll be interested in my terms.”

If I'm not, I'll make you miserable, the god warns.

He sets the holy object back in place and then gives a small bow. “I'm sure you're busy, so I won't beat around the bush. I want the same ability Aster has– the other half, if you will. He sees my secrets, I see his. In exchange…”

Uhg, he hates making this offer, but the alternative is worse. He taps his temple. “I'll contribute to freeing Innit– which means Innit can work on that, too.”

There's a peal of laughter. Oh my GOD, you're so fucking petty! Why should I enable you when Innit’ll get free anyway?

He huffs softly. “Because that’s much more boring.”

…Oh?

“It might take them years to figure it out on their own. Aster could use the wish, sure…but that's such a lame use of it.”

Daz circles his finger a little. “And wouldn't it be poetic– cathartic, even– if the two of us came together one final time before splitting apart? Not to mention the meaning behind Innit having a hand in making its own body!”

His smile is friendly, technically. In practice, it looks more like a threat display. “And you'd get a far more interesting show if I see inside his head. What do you think you and your audience would find more enjoyable; Aster one-sidedly seeing things and wasting the wish on something so obvious…or Innit freed, the wish still in play, and me getting visions as well?”

There's silence for several long moments, and then the laughter comes back.

Loud, booming, manic, the edges of it warping in a way that makes Daz shudder.

Hah! Haha, holy SHIT! You're such a piece of garbage! You're so goddamned petty that you'll make a deal like this with someone who doesn't like you!

“I never claimed to be a good person. I'll ruin myself as long as I can bring others down with me,” Daz replies.

He cocks his head to the side and adds, “The game stays fresh for longer like this, too. The more entertained you are, the less likely you are to demand things change at a bad time. It's better to try and set my own terms than be left in check again.”

The Showrunner giggles. Alright, sure! I'll humor you this time.

The room suddenly floods with power and pressure as the god growls, But if you fail to hold up your end, you'll regret it.  He's left gasping for air as their presence fades and they murmur, So don't be stupid about this, yeah? I’d hate to lose such an interesting game piece.

[infinitethree]

As Daz is reeling from that revelation and Aster turns ashen, the world around them…changes.

Colors all blur together and then kind of just– melt, streaking down into nothingness and leaving behind only black. The furniture suffers the same fate, along with the walls, ceiling, and floor.

As much as he loathes Aster, Daz isn’t so stupid or petty that he’s not going to scramble over to him. Aster withdraws his axe, obviously on high alert despite them not being able to see anything.

There does seem to be a floor of some sort, but it’s not something that looks any different than the rest of the inky, Void-like…void.

Neither of them say anything. Daz is close enough that their sides are touching, his daggers in hand. He’s facing the other way to scan for anything that might sneak up behind them.

Everything is that disturbing, eerie kind of quiet. A quiet so absolute that your brain screams that something is wrong.

The only sounds are their breathing and the shifting of their clothes. They all sound like gunshots amidst the lack of even subtle ambient noises.

And then, in a split second, everything changes.

They find themselves standing in what looks like an old-fashioned theatre. The giant red velvet curtains are drawn and the overhead lights are off.

Daz realizes they’re in the middle of the aisle of seats. A plush red rug stretches from about 10 feet away from the stage back off into the far distance. The rows of seats stretch along with it…and off to sides, as well.

It feels like the majority of this place is just seating.

Something moves, and Daz snaps his head to look at it.

Whatever it is, it isn’t anything he’s seen before. Two of some kind of bizarre, blob-like creatures sit in what seem like VIP seats. They wobble like Jello as they…maybe? Watch him back.

There’s more of them scattered around, including more in that section, but none are as distinct as those two– some are barely more than shadows.

Suddenly, from above, there’s a giggle. “Don’t mind them, they’re just representations of the audience!”

He takes several steps back to put distance between himself and whatever just spoke.

Floating above their heads in an absurd ringmaster-esque costume and smiling, Daz had to take a moment to wrap his head around their appearance.

Their head looks like a flat-screen monitor, with a simple and pixelated animating ‘face’. Said animation looks like a very rudimentary GIF of blinking. Six phone-sized screens circle their head, displaying what seem like random emojis.

They giggle again. “Oh my god, the look on your faces! Hah– this is definitely worth the hassle. Although…”

Well, their ‘face’ seems to update when they talk. It’s not in sync, though.

The entity hums to themself. “Yeah, nah, this won’t do.”

They withdraw a round-top cane. It suddenly extends and reaches to tap on Daz’s head.

And then Innit is there.

It stares at them with wide eyes, and then looks up at the entity. After a long moment, it gets to its feet and bows.

“You’re– you’re the Showrunner, right? Not the Scribe.”

A sound like the correct answer in a gameshow plays. “Yeah! Hell-o, my favorite little metaphor!”

The…Showrunner, evidently, settles down on the ground and reaches out to squish Innit’s cheeks together. “Awww, look at you! You’re so smart and unexpected!”

Innit seems to be in shock, which makes three of them.

Aster recovers first. “So, if you’re the Showrunner, then– where is the Scribe? And what do you do?”

The Showrunner blows a raspberry and rolls their eyes. “I borrowed Scribs’ name for reasons. It was always me!”

Daz is able to gather himself enough to ask, “So– you’re Time?”

They laugh, bright and uproarious. Finally letting go of Innit, they turn to face him.

Their smile isn’t terribly kind or fond as they tell him, “Time was just a sock puppet for Scribs. A useful tool and nothing more. It’s really just a name and some divine pressure, there’s not much else there.”

He laughs shakily. “So– we weren’t chosen on a whim. You just…have been toying with us all along…?”

“Yes! See, despite what an miserable little cunt you are, you are clever enough that dealing with you is sometimes worth it,” The Showrunner confirms.

There’s only one thing to ask, then. “Why? Why do you care so much about us? Not just Sanctuary, but– the people you have rescued?”

The Showrunner starts laughing.

Again, it’s not nice or kind, but instead manic. Almost malicious; something that screams that this entity is not someone that can be reasoned with if he makes a wrong step.

Their expression, despite its lack of fidelity, is borderline unhinged as they giggle, “You haven’t earned that answer!”

Daz shudders, then jumps as Innit speaks again. “How do we earn it, then?”

The Showrunner reaches down– they’re absurdly tall, easily clearly eight feet– and pats its head. “Figure more secrets out, little monster. Figure them out on your own and you won’t have to share what you learn.”

Despite how unhinged this divine being is, Innit smiles warmly up at it. “Thanks for the hint. I’ll make you proud.”

“Aww, you’re adorable.”

From his side, Aster asks quietly, “...When do I know when I’ve earned the– the wish?”

In between blinks, the deity stands in front of him and has its screen-face barely an inch from his. This close, Daz can hear a faint, electronic buzzing.

“Depends. What d’you want to use it on?”

Aster, tense as a strung bow and as rigid as a netherite sword, tells them, “I haven’t decided yet. But if– if it’s not going to be for a while, I can rule some things out.”

The traitor’s eyes flick over to Innit, and resentment burns in Daz’s chest. After ripping his past open and destroying his plans, Aster wants to use this– this impossible fucking thing on Innit?!

Grin wide, The Showrunner tells him, “For that, I might be willing to…be a bit more lenient. You might have to see the things you least want to see, and agree to do that, but, well…I’m not completely heartless.”

Aster’s expression conveys how little he likes that condition.

“Oh, and it won’t make it end. It ends when I decide it’s not fun any more. Talk it over with your little group first. You never know– you might have some clever bastards decide to step in and make that unnecessary.”

Yeah, no, Daz can read the implication there. He’s being threatened to cooperate, and probably helm, Innit getting a body…or else the wish paid for by his past and future will be given to another.

The Showrunner laughs a little. “Alright, alright. That’s enough fun for one of the lowest rungs of secrets. I’ve given you plenty.”

Their surroundings melt away until only the Showrunner’s backlit smile remains. “So entertain me more by figuring the rest out, yeah? You haven’t even scratched the surface of the truth.”

[infinitethree]

As soon as Aster shuts the door to his office, he says, “Talk quietly enough and other people won’t hear.”

That seems to finally snap Daz from his trance and get him to shove his arm away. “What the fuck is wrong with you–” “You literally came here specifically to torment me. Me playing into your goddamned act about wanting to be friends should be exactly what you want,” Aster hisses at him.

There’s a scoff, and Daz stalks away from him…and takes Aster’s chair.

“You are such a petty asshole,” Aster mutters, but isn't willing to fight him on that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyone but…

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

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

Attachments to me are deadly. I need his hatred.

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

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

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

Daz had nobody who knew the real him.

Nobody but Aster.

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

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

The next vision he sees is the future.

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

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

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

“You slept better if I just…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can't leave,” Dream murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What…are they, anyway?”

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

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

…Fuuuuuuck.

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

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

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

Weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods.

Daz turns ashen and leans back in his seat. Quietly, a sense of dread in his words, Daz tells him, “Aster…we haven’t been talking to something called the Scribe. We’ve been making deals with Time.”

[infinitethree]

It doesn’t take long for Daz to clock that Aster is acting weird in a way that doesn’t fit with just seeing his past.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long to have an opportunity to corner him.

He does so very literally, too– Aster having gone to grab food in the little kitchen in the Council HQ.

Daz gets in his space to set him on edge. “What new secrets are you hiding, asshole?”

Aster blanches, pressing himself back against the counter behind him. “Uh– nothing. It’s– it doesn’t–”

Eyes thinning, Daz steps closer and braces his arms on either side of the bastard. “You owe me a bigger debt than you can even dream of repaying, so talk.”

A strangled noise escapes Aster. “Don’t do that, it’s–”

…Wait a fucking second. Is he blushing?

Blushing and not looking at him, cowering as far away from Daz as he can possibly get–

Disgusted, he laughs, “Sweeting fuckin’ Prime, did you get a crush on me? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Offense sweeps across Aster’s face. “No! I mean, not–”

Suddenly, his expression shifts to something resigned and dismayed. “...So, uh. I’m not– not just seeing your past.”

“...Who else are you seeing? And what the fuck does that matter now?” “Uhm, still– still just you. It’s, uh…more like–”

A nervous laugh escapes Aster. “More like the future?”

Of all the answers he could have expected, that was not one of them. “...Excuse me?”

Now Aster rambles, “It’s– I mean, honestly, you seem pretty happy? Uh, so do I, and the thing is that I don’t know that much so maybe we shouldn’t talk about it–”

“Aster.”

With a defeated slump to his shoulders, Aster admits, “We get married.”

He waits for some indication that Aster is lying or fucking with him.

None comes.

Disbelieving, he says, “...You’re serious. You actually–”

Aster swallows and says, “I, uh– you were serious about it. Very serious. We were dancing at one of the Christmas parties and it was…we had netherite earcuffs and matching suits. You made them, apparently. And…and they were, uh– they were…based on me.”

Wow, he didn’t know Aster’s face could get that red, he distantly notes, as he struggles to conceive of that kind of world.

Continuing, Aster quietly tells him, “You looked at my soul, somehow. And you made us suits based on that. I…I think hearing that made me happy.”

His breath catches. Something that intimate, being on full display– a powerful, potent symbol of claiming.

He knows he would never do something like that without being sure that it was actually wanted. 

“You…you told me, uhm. That you loved me. To the, uh– the point of madness and ruin. That I– that I was everything to you. That…that your deepest wish was to die of old age in our sleep together. It was–” A weak laugh escapes Aster, who admits, “I don’t exactly…know anything about that? Like, uh, romance or– or whatever. But it, uh– it was a bit…”

Daz realizes he’s still got Aster pinned against the counter. Logically, he should move away and put as much space as possible between them.

On the other…

Aster is uneasy and flustered, being made to recount this. He’s feeling something, and it’s not an emotion this bastard knows how to handle.

In other words, Daz can use this to torment him.

“A bit what?”

Instead of answering, Aster’s gaze skitters even further away. “Nothing. I– nevermind.”

Because he’s not stupid, he has a decent idea of what Aster meant. “You were charmed by it, weren’t you? That’s funny. Almost cute, even.”

Annoyance flashes across Aster’s face. “I know you’re just being an asshole.”

Daz’s tone is deceptively light as he asks, “Are you going to argue I don’t deserve to be angry? To want revenge?”

“...No. I– I’d be pissed, too.”

He hums. So he’s not completely stupid, then– good to know.

“So you can learn! What a good boy you are,” he mocks.

He does not expect Aster to turn completely scarlet and make a pathetic noise.

Ooh, what’d he learn? What– does Innit have an investment in this melodrama?

I’m bored and he fucked me over, too. I want to see him suffer. This…and only this? I might actually work with you on. Maybe.

What a messed up scenario– that this is the one thing they can join hands on.

Cooing, he uses two fingers to forcibly tilt Aster’s chin back towards him. “Now, now, don’t be so shy. Share with the class, hmm? What could you have seen that got you so flustered?”

“I– I don’t want to talk about it,” Aster croaks.

Chuckling softly, Daz murmurs, “You know that won’t work with me.” “You probably don’t want to hear about it, either!” “Oh, but see– I don’t care if I’m dealt psychic damage, too. The thing I care about is completely humiliating you.”

There’s a visible resignation in Aster’s posture and voice. “I…we aren’t, uh. It’s– we do all the. Married stuff. So it's not just…romantic. It's– physical, too.”

Oh, that’s weird as hell. The idea of sex is kind of just…unappealing? And on top of that, with Aster of all people…blehg.

Whatever; he can still use this.

“No wonder you're so flustered. Me so close– am I making you think about it even more? How curious you are if it's as good as it looked…” his purr of a tone drops into something hopefully seductive.

“If being mine is really as incredible as it seemed.”

Aster turns scarlet, gaze darting away again. “Oh, don't be so shy! It's adorable, watching you grapple with the fact that I take very good care of those I get attached to.”

He laughs and forces himself to focus on his amusement rather than the way he feels vaguely ill at the idea of tying himself to Aster.

His hand slides down to wrap around one bicep and squeeze. “If you really want to know…grovel like a dog. Earn my forgiveness. Humiliate yourself for my enjoyment until you can crawl back into my good graces.”

Tone light but menacing, he warns, “Otherwise…I'll sever that future with my own two hands.”

Aster shivers, and it’s hard to tell what his dominant emotion currently is.

“Only then will I let you convince me you're worth my devotion. Assuming you aren't a coward and back down, of course. But…maybe you are, hmm? Maybe you're just too weak to even try and win me over.”

Then he opens his console and goes back home.

Really, he just wants to humiliate him and eat up his time. The less he can focus on Daz's past, the better.

He has no intention of ever accepting Aster like that. The bastard will be lucky to earn any sort of forgiveness, let alone love.