Fics Written in the Stars

"Is that my shirt?"

So far, being roommates with Amity Blight was surprisingly okay.

Willow had mentioned her being a bully to her in the past, but so far, Luz's hopes of having a good roommate relationship were... sort of answered. Amity was polite but quiet, mostly keeping to herself and studying. She was polite when Willow and Gus came over, to the point that Willow seemed to relax around her. She did try to have her own friends over, but Boscha being rude once had Amity refuse to bring her over.

She especially lit up when Luz brought up The Good Witch Azure, but she claimed that she was only a "small fan".

Admittedly, Luz may have been biased. Amity was pretty and smart, especially when she brought her siblings over to dye her hair from mint green to a pretty cotton candy shade of lavender. But, she was fine! She could be cool!

Except right now, with her wearing Luz's shirt.

Amity glanced down. "Oh, yeah," she said, like it was nothing. "It ended up in my laundry and..." Her cheeks went red. "I'm sorry, I should have given it back-"

"It's okay! You look nice in it!"

She had meant for it to fix any awkwardness.

Instead, Amity made a sound, turned, and marched out of the kitchen.

...well, hopefully, this would be fine. This definitely wouldn't cause any issues.

Right?

There was a moment of silence.

It lasted long enough that Angel's heart ached, wondering if they were just holding a dead body. The Prototype had been acting as though Preston was alive, but, honestly? They wouldn't blame him for being insane. They were pretty sure they lost their own mind a while ago.

And then, a soft noise.

Preston's eyes, his human, human eyes, moved up.

Angel felt themself relax, just slightly.

"So… your name is Preston, right?"

Up. Yes.

"Are you here willingly?" That felt like a non-question. Preston could barely move.

Up. Yes. Down. No.

"Is that a maybe?"

Up. Yes.

"Okay. So… do you want to leave?"

Up. Yes.

"Do you know where the negation formula is for the poppy gel? The Doctor is…" What was the best word for this? "Being himself?"

There was a faint noise. Was Preston laughing? Before they could ask, his eyes moved down. No.

"…do you have ideas where it might be kept?"

Up. Yes.

And then there was another noise, so low that they had to strain their ears to hear it. "I didn't hear that… hang on." They held him closer to his face and fought to keep their face from scrunching up. Preston smelled like gore, like fresh blood, and it wasn't his fault. "Say that again?"

It was raspy and soft, almost more of a moan than a proper word. "…don't…don't kill…"

"…don't kill him?"

Preston's eyes moved up.

Be it how Sage came up with the idea, the aftermath of the whole thing, whatever other steps Sage was talking about, or Truthlesses POV during this horrific event.

Take your pick but please I’m starving 🙏

There had been an outfit waiting for him after all that.

An outfit.

A fucking outfit, made of layers of white and gold, too close to resembling his Beacon outfit for comfort.

Truthless Recluse licked his lips, trying to ignore the pain pulsing through his jaw. The Sage had yanked out all of his canines, replacing them with smaller, more cookie-like fake teeth. They felt strange in his mouth, and that didn't even mention the grinding of his other teeth, shaping them to the Sage's liking.

"I'm not wearing that." His voice sounded weird, and his throat ached.

"Of course you are! Look at your robes!" The Sage tugged on what remained of his outer robes, torn apart in the struggle. "They're little more than rags. Dearest, you can't wear them." He paused, a dark flush forming across his face. "But, I mean, if you wish to walk around naked-"

Nope. Absolutely not.

"I'll get changed. Out."

"Fine, fine, I need to check on your accessories anyway." The Sage gave a little wave before walking out of the room. The door locked behind him.

It should have been child's play to unlock the door or just blast a way out. However, the cuffs on his wrists, forced on him after the pain had grown too much, blocked his power. And, based on the view of the swirling night sky, the Recluse wouldn't get anywhere anyway.

He stared at his reflection and tried for a smile.

It wasn't his smile, not with the sharp teeth he took such comfort in. It wasn't his face, not with his horns lopped off. The only thing that remained was the wool that stretched from under his collar, and the Sage had spent too much time cooing over that to try to get rid of it.

He looked like a cookie.

He looked like the Beacon.

And that was what the Sage wanted. What all of the Virtues wanted, wasn't it?

He hadn't heard from the other Beasts in months. And that screamed a terrible truth, one he could not pretend he did not know.

Day 1 and 5 for @burgertimewifi's TRSOT week!

"Why are you here?"

"Ah, Truthless Recluse! Good morning!"

"Good evening, rather," his other half scoffed. He wrapped the shawl tighter around his body, his usual robes discarded for a simple nightgown. "You didn't answer my question."

"It is 3 in the morning, technically."

"Sage."

He laughed at his other half's annoyance as he adjusted the telescope. "To answer your question, I thought we would have a lovely time together!"

"You're dragging this out."

Okay, okay. The Sage pulled out a basket and set it on the blanket before he sat down. "To answer your question," Truthless Recluse opened his mouth. He held up his hand. "Fully," He shut his mouth. "Your Peak, regardless of how much you guard it, is the perfect location for some star-gazing, especially this morning!"

Truthless Recluse stared at him. After a moment, he sighed. "What's this evening?"

He was just going to be a pain about this, wasn't he? He was so lucky that he loved him. The Sage smiled. "This morning is the summer solstice, meaning that the summer stars will begin to show!"

"…you came all the way up here to stargaze?"

"With a perfect view, and with you." The Sage offered his hand. "Unless you wish to go back inside?"

Truthless Recluse stared at him, and then he sighed, settling down next to him. His warmth eased the slight chill of the mountain peak, and the Sage curled up close.

"You're lucky I love you."

"I know."

Pause from the askee being taken aback.

"Uh, that's kind of a subjective question..."

Isabela pushed the curtain aside. "So, how does this-"

"WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE?!"

Isabela froze. Not just at the sudden uptick of volume from Xiaojiao, but the question.

Cute.

Nobody had called her cute before. At least, not any time she could remember. What she could remember was precious, adorable, moving to lovely, gorgeous, beautiful as she got older. Cute was reserved for the other grandchildren.

She liked it.

"…That's kind of a subjective question…" she said, stepping out of the dressing room fully. "Do you like it?"

Xiaojiao nodded. "I really like the little cactus print across the upper shirt," she said, tugging on the hideous print button-up Isabela had placed over her top. Her smile faded from its adorable squeal to something gentler. "What do you think?"

Isabela turned to the mirror.

She looked…

What the Fates and a certain.. Giver.. have in common?

Strings.

Or. Nico wants Percy to take the protagonist stick back.

"You feel… familiar."

Nico bit back a shiver as a string caressed his cheek. The voice was not like other ghosts. Other ghosts tended to sound soft and breathy, as though it was taking material from their see-through forms. This ghost, if it was a ghost, sounded alive, with a faint echo underlining their voice. It sounded like a little girl.

"…I am the son of Hades, the King of the Dead," he offered. He didn't really play the do you know who my dad card, but this was a different situation. "You are dead. You should have moved on to his hall."

The strings gleamed in the faint light of his sword.

"I should have," the voice agreed. "But not yet."

"Why not?" Despite his instincts, he stepped forward. "The others are hurting-"

The strings hardened in a second. Nico grunted as they wrapped around him, tying him up. His sword fell from his hands, casting the storage room in further shadow.

"The others are like animals… only able to understand their base emotions." Something shuffled and this thing could move silently. It wanted him to hear it walking forward. "But I?"

The mask came into view.

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Old hardware back in the right hands :)

Doughael dragging Truthless out from the Peak of Truth accompanied by an angry mob of cookies, all determined support what they've been convinced will "fix" the Truthless Recluse, and restore him to his former glory. They held down the hermit as he thrashed, trying to knock the icepick in their leader's hands away from his face-

The pain lasted for only a few second, yet it felt like an eternity...

Time feels... far away now...

He's... sitting on... an altar...

Cookies, are... kneeling...

Everything hurts...

Sage finds out what they did to his other half months after the procedure, and he is absolutely LIVID. Nobody lays a hand on his darling and gets away with it, that's for sure, but destroying his cognitive function? Oh, they. Are. DEAD!! He doesn't care about the eyes that now share space with the stars in his hair, those deranged Heathens hurt his other half, and they Must be punished for this heinous transgression they have committed!!

Truthless doesn't know what's going on, but he feels... something after he's changed out of the scratchy ceremonial robes his... worshippers(?) put him it. Might be relief, might be anger, whatever it is, he doesn't care.

Sage dabs away at the tears that fall from his Recluse's dead eyes.