I figured I'd write something based on a thought I had that ended up making me cry. So, pretty much...warning for really venty things. Also a warning for grief over deaths of 2 family members. Everything Star says here is true, which essentially means: This is a highly personal work.
In terms of the story I'm currently writing, this doesn't fall anywhere specific IN the storyline itself. These events happen after the scenario I've been writing these past few nights.
Note! Part 4 of said story has been being workshopped for a few days, and I don't feel like finishing it RIGHT NOW. I've just been dreading writing so many characters, which has resulted in Daisy, Basira, Georgie and Melanie being thrown out of the narrative (sorry, lesbians). I can't guarantee when it will be posted, but do stay tuned. Sorry to keep you waiting.
Star, who had a thought and needed to talk to someone about it, slipped back into the TMAverse. Immediately, without greeting anyone at the Institute, she headed to the Lonely.
In the desolate landscape, the girl walked and walked through the fog. She began marching towards the lighthouse, despite how the fog makes the place seem impossible to navigate. She's been here so many times, to the point that she practically knows this domain like the back of her hand.
As she walked, the lighthouse came into view. Eventually, she saw Peter there.
"Cap'n Findus!"
"Star. I told you not to call me that."
[timeskip to when they're in the lighthouse, in a kitchen of sorts because yes that definitely exists; I can't really write an intro interaction and I don't want to suddenly get hit by writers block bc I NEED to get this down]
Star sat at the table while Peter made himself some tea. He briefly turned towards her to ask,
"Care for some tea?"
Then he remembered that she, in fact, doesn't drink tea, or barely anything for that matter. That was proven by her shaking her head.
"Can I just have some water instead? Please?"
"'Course."
A few minutes later of the kettle brewing and him waiting by the counter, the girl suddenly spoke up.
"I've been thinking," she began, "about how much of a dysfunctional family I have."
Now that made him pause.
"And what, exactly, do you mean by that?"
"Well, we've got a father who's barely around busy with work—he's always got his hands full working on something, lawyer-related or not—and a mother who stays at home and yet somehow her children barely talk to her. A daughter—not me, but my sister—who is almost always out of the house, with her friends, oftentimes coming home late. And then we have me."
She said 'me' with a little bit of...resentment? Disappointment? Disgust, maybe?
The captain got his cup of tea and water for Star and sat down at the table across from her. He handed the glass to Star, and she quietly said thank you. He was lookin' all serious, clearly listening intently and waiting for her to continue.
"And it's funny. I've always tried to deny it, but the improper dynamic is so clearly there. I say I'll make an effort to get closer with my family, to talk to my mother about my issues more, but I just haven't. So many years have passed, and I don't know what to make of it." She paused to take a sip of water. "And today? Oh, I was crying in a parking lot. My mom had gone into the store to get some stuff, and came back to her daughter crying. I passed it off as simply crying because of a few sad—although relatable—songs, but gods was that a half-truth. I wish I could tell her I've been grieving my grandparents, despite my grandma passing a whole seven years ago. The wound from losing my grandpa is still fresh, 'cause it's only been a year, but I can't— I can't fathom it. How am I supposed to tell her about this, and that I've been having dreams—nightmares—where either her or my dad die? I can't possibly tell her about that. Ever. I need to avoid it, not tell her that I'm already grieving someone alive. That's a bad omen. It's very, very bad."
As she spoke, she sounded like she was spiralling. Tears in her eyes, her elbows on the table and head being held in her hands; the whole package deal. She looked like the world was crashing down on her. He watched as this happened, and soon thought enough is enough.
He stood up and walked around the table to stand behind her, putting a firm hand on her shoulder. He focused for a moment, and soon fog appeared, surrounding her. This time, it did the exact opposite of amplify her emotions—it dulled them, just enough to make her feel less stressed out. He grabbed the cup with the other hand, putting it to her lips.
"Here. Drink some water."
So she did. She held the cup in her hands and took a sip, breathing heavily. She put the cup down and leaned back into the chair, trying to steady her breathing. She wiped her tears as she felt Peter wrap his arms around her from behind (completely ignoring the back of the chair btw), and resting his chin on the top of her head. She closed her eyes, breathing in then out, and leaned further into the chair and also his embrace.
"You'll be alright, Star," he reassured. "Everything's going to be okay."
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Takes forever to find a perfect spot for a base, she gets fed up after three days and just builds somewhere with trees and easy land access
Builder + fighter!!!
Has pinterest boards of base ideas and tries to do different themes in every world and refuses to go near ocean monuments
Thinks the idea of them all having a town is rlly cute but no one can build proper shit except her
Uses shaders
Has a railway system to Randy's
Gets a dog which billy accidentally kills
Tatum
Her main job is miner although she also does others if help is needed. Likes mining cause you don't need to pay that much attention to it and she can focus her mind elsewhere
Loves trying to get every achievement in the game & does it with stu when their bored
Very indecisive about her minecraft skin
Would rather fish for rare stuff then actually explore and insists it's more efficient
Only really plays for Sidney
Billy
Acts like tough shit but then gets killed by a skeleton
He uses bedrock edition cause he has a crappy switch that he refuses to let die and gets made fun of for it
Plays duo bedwars with stu and gets kicked for hateful speech in chat
The only one who cares about beating the game
Tried to be a Minecraft speed runner and failed miserably and no one knows not even stu who made fun of the speed run to billys face
Stu
Thinks those shitty horror mods are hilarious and in general installs the worst mods in his and billys private server
Uses those stupid "realistic minecraft" shaders that are plain ugly and if you say they are he'll ask if you think life is ugly
Really good at building (especially secret bases) he just chooses to build some bullshit
Had multiple pet birds and fed them cookies. He cried for a week and made everyone attend the funeral and give him diamonds
Randy
Redstone engineer
Tries to get as many mods as possible and his pc crashes
Only really plays regular minecraft when hanging out with the others
Loves to play really old minecraft maps or dropper maps and when the others play the old maps with him he explains everything in great detail
Makes jokes about minecraft youtubers like when staring at stuilly he'll say smth like "omg guys these HEATWAVES are crazyyyyy right??? :D"
Venting out my emotions via writing because I'm not feeling the greatest! Yay!
Under the "Keep reading" because I ain't evil
Star popped into the universe of The Magnus Archives, far after the 2 years she had originally come here. Of course, she visited after having done everything she needed to, and felt satisfied enough about it.
She appeared in the Institute, walking over to the Archives hoping to find Jon, Martin, or someone. She needed a hug, or a listening ear, desperately. Although she wouldn't admit that, ever.
It's been such a long time since she'd been here, at least a few months. The statements looked far more organized, seeming as though Uzi had visited far more than her for that outcome. Things weren't as she remembered them, at least not exactly. Some furniture was moved.
"Uhm..."
Seeing as the Archives were practically empty, she broke the silence.
"Anyone here? It's me again."
Some shuffling was heard, coming from one of the bookcases as if someone was rearranging papers just a moment ago. But they stopped and walked over.
It was Jon. Of course it was.
She gave a little bit of a shy wave.
"Oh, Star! Been a while since we last talked, hasn't it?"
"Yeah, I suppose it has. Umm......how have things been going? After the whole... the-world-almost-ended-but-we-managed-to-stop-it-thing?"
"As normal, actually. As if nothing happened."
"Oh! That's...good? And how's Martin?"
Jon's face almost lit up at the mention of him.
"He's doing well too!"
"Great to hear." :)
Star took her bag off, held it up by the straps, and pulled out some photocopies of her poems.
"I...started writing poetry! I brought some poems with me, in case you, or Martin, wanted to read them. You can show them to the others if you'd like."
She handed the papers to Jon, and he, in turn, placed them on a nearby table.
"Oh? You, writing poetry? How come?"
"Well...someone came into my life, helped me get back to the light after almost 2 years of darkness."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Who?"
"Just a little someone called Apollo."
She smiled.
"Apollo?" The Archivist looked nothing short of surprised. "Like, the god?"
She nodded, which made him whistle.
"Wow. How lucky must someone be to be able to meet a god..."
"Anyway, enough about that. I uh..."
Her mask slipped little by little, and Jon noticed that something was wrong, not quite right.
They locked eyes for a moment.
And, then, without warning, Star hugged him. He froze for a second, but adjusted quickly, in turn wrapping his arms around her.
"What happened, Star?"
"I just...I don't know. Things haven't been going the greatest," she admitted. "I know just a second ago I had been acting, y'know, cheerful, but that was an act."
"I was almost sure of it, actually. You can't exactly fool me."
"I know." (pun not intended)
She buried her face in his shoulder, hugging him tighter. Finally, some comfort at last. He, almost on instinct from the several times this has happened before, started trailing his fingers up and down her back, in comforting motions. That. That was exactly what she needed. She melted.
"Can we stay like this for a little while?" she mumbled.
Ferus: I can’t tell you because you’re not a member of the club.
Anakin: What club?
Ferus: The hating Anakin club.
Anakin: …The fuck? I should be the leader of that club!
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Okay. Seeing as the roleplay has paused since the other person went to sleep, I'ma just...write a skit that's been sitting in my mind for quite a bit now, before I actually typed out Apollo's response after learning about the Fears. So...here goes nothing!
Star and Michael were now out of the Corridors, yes. But what about Apollo? Where was he?
After his little talk with Clio (nothing major, simply discussing how to shape out a universe with tangled history), he called up a meeting with all nine of them. Regarding, you guessed it, the TMAverse.
Here's a quick rundown of how that went:
"Okay. WHAT do you mean there's a universe with Entities that feed on humanity's fear? Why did you authorize this???"
"Well, we didn't want to turn down such a...unique imagination and story. So we followed through with its creation, put it to fruition," Erato explained.
"Also, it's an interesting topic! There being Avatars too, embodying said Fears and all," Thalia continued.
"Quite tragic if you ask me," added Melpomene. "Imagine people's phobias being manipulated like that..."
"Well, I think it's comedic! They are entirely unaware, yet they fear, and fear, and fear—"
Flashback to that one time in the graphic novel Apollo by George O' Connor (I recommend) where Thalia and Melpomene were arguing what the situation with Marsyas should be called: the Comedy or the Tragedy of Marsyas xD
"Is it a good time to mention that, since there's a sequel to said podcast, there's also...a second universe with similar Entities (if not the same ones)..?" Urania cut in.
That's where their half-brother cut them off. "Oh, great! So there are TWO universes with fear-eating Entities. Wonderful!"
He began pacing back and forth, back and forth, arms crossed behind his back. His pace was rapidly increasing, growing more agitated, and concerned, by the second.
"And who, might I ask, thought this up?"
Calliope pulled up a scroll with the list of people who teamed up to create the podcast. Writer, writer, writer...
"One Jonathan Sims, sir," she answered.
"Someone needs to get that mortal checked..." he mumbled under his breath. "Okay. Great. And we're just going to leave things as it is? Let this slide? Let the people of those universes suffer?"
"Well, there's not much we can do. It's creative freedom, after all."
"I suppose it is..."
He held up a hand.
"Alright, meeting's over. I need some time to process all of this..."
With that, they all filed out (not like there's a room. they're out in the open in Olympus) and did whatever they do on the daily.
And Apollo was left to process all of this. This whiplash of informa— Wait. did she say there are embodiments of the Fears? Avatars? Well then I suppose that's what that being was...
That was when he realized he didn't really catch their name. Shoot. (pun intended)
megumi is lowkey going through an emo phase, well he denies it’s a phase, but gojo is adamant it won’t last.
he’s been begging for an eyebrow piercing for weeks on end, shockingly so, but gojo refuses, saying how it’s not worth the trouble if it ends up rejecting.
megumi being the stubborn teenager he is, goes behind his back going to this hideout he’s heard his peers talking about - apparently it’s where all the ‘no good’ upperclassmen hangout.
there he meets a very inviting kirara and they surprisingly hit it off. it’s not long before they get chatting and megumi explains his dilemma.
normally kirara would refuse to help, not wanting to deal with an angry parent later on, but she couldn’t resist when she examined megumi’s face & realised how perfect it would be.
safe to say megumi started coming home with a new piercing every couple of months for the next year or so, and it drove gojo to his wits end.
