Avatar of Memoria

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12 mos ago
Current I hope all is well with everyone. <3
3 likes
1 yr ago
Gloating after harassing someone to the point that they quit the site (all because they didn't let you join their RP) is actually crazy. Let's leave the toxic incel behavior in 2024 where it belongs.
16 likes
1 yr ago
I wish I had a story I could really sink my teeth into, something that truly inspires me creatively. Where is that story?
1 like
1 yr ago
I love Studio Ghibli <3
3 likes
2 yrs ago
For anyone out there that feels wronged, you will never heal until you allow yourself to move on. Wallowing in the past will only cause you more pain. It is time to move on.
3 likes

Bio

Welcome to My Personal Library <3

My Favorite Books

Strange the Dreamer

The Last Tale of the Flower Bride

The Starless Sea

The Gracekeepers

Perfect Peace

The Thirteenth Tale

The Secret Garden

Most Recent Posts





@TiLocation:Dorm Building Interior, Merryweather Institute



The soft hum of conversation spilled from the auditorium doors, but the ceremony had yet to begin. Hugo peeked inside, noting the empty stage and restless shuffling of students finding their seats. With time to spare, he retreated to a quiet windowsill just down the hall, sliding his back against the cool wall and opening Francisco’s homework he'd clutched tight to his chest. His pen moved fluidly over the pages, each question answered with ease. The equations and essay prompts posed no challenge—if anything, they were insulting in their simplicity. Yet with every answer he penned, a knot of frustration tightened in his chest. Not at the work itself, but at himself, for complying so effortlessly. For being this—someone who bowed his head, who obeyed, all for the sake of keeping fragile things intact.

Outside the tall window, the sky had darkened slightly, heavy with clouds. It wasn’t until a faint flurry of snowflakes drifted past the glass that Hugo realized his emotions had slipped beyond his control. The delicate crystals fell softly, dancing against the backdrop of gray. His breath hitched. With a small, sharp inhale, he clenched his jaw, steadying his heart. The snowfall ceased instantly, the magic retreating as though it had never been there. He hated this—the delicate tether between his emotions and his powers. As if the universe conspired to remind him of what he was, every time he slipped.

The hallway grew louder, filled with the buzz of students gathering near the auditorium’s entrance. Hugo kept his gaze down, trying to refocus, but his mind wandered.

John Summers.

The thought appeared uninvited, subtle at first, like a whisper. He frowned slightly, shaking it off, returning to the scrawl of notes before him. But it came back, more insistent this time. John, with his easy smiles and casual waves. John, who was nice to everyone, even people like Hugo.

Hugo tapped the pen against his chin thoughtfully. Perhaps… it was worth a try.

Sliding the unfinished papers back into the binder, he stood, smoothing his uniform with practiced precision before weaving through the crowd. It didn’t take long to spot John in the hall, heading toward the auditorium with that same friendly ease.

Hugo approached quietly, falling into step beside him.

"John," he said softly, his voice smooth like velvet but touched with just enough vulnerability to seem sincere. When John turned, Hugo kept his expression composed, though his eyes carried a weight that wasn’t entirely feigned. "I was wondering if I could ask a favor. It’s… small, really."

He glanced down briefly, as if hesitant, then back up. "I need something from my family’s home. My diary, to be specific. But I can’t go there myself—my mother’s made it quite clear I’m not welcome. She’s…” He let the sentence trail off, as if the explanation was too painful to continue, though it was carefully calculated. "To be honest, I don’t have anyone else I can turn to."

The words hung in the air, soft and deliberate, designed to stir sympathy. Hugo wasn’t close to John, not really. But he knew kindness when he saw it, and John wore his heart on his sleeve. As John began to respond, Hugo’s attention shifted slightly. His eyes caught the crooked angle of John’s tie—a small detail, yet glaring to someone like Hugo. Without thinking, his hand reached out, fingers deftly adjusting the fabric, smoothing it into place with gentle precision. It was a reflex, born from habit more than affection.

"There," Hugo murmured, his hand dropping back to his side. His face remained composed, his usual distant poise settling back over him like a mask. "It was a little off."

He waited, his heart steady, though a quiet tension hummed beneath the surface.
Ooc will go live in a day or two!

@Aeolian

I’d wait until the OOC is up but if you want to PM me the sheet I’ll look it over!


Thanks Nori. Ill just wait for the OOC to open. :)
@NoriWasHere

Hey love. I've already got the character sheet finished. Should I post it here, or wait till the OOC is up?

Cheers!


Location: Dorm Building Interior, Merryweather Institute


The dorm room gleamed with a spotless perfection that didn’t match the chaos and clutter from the night before. Every surface was wiped down, every item meticulously placed in its rightful spot. The scent of lavender polish hung in the air, mingling with the faintly herbal aroma of tea from a steaming mug left untouched on the desk. Hugo stood near the window, his hands raw from scrubbing and his body aching from bending over the floor. Cleaning had become a ritual for him, a tempered ceremony to bring some semblance of order to a world he couldn’t fully control. Though no one had asked him to do it, not even his dorm mate Paige, he couldn’t help himself. For Hugo, there was something soothing about the monotony of it—some way it quieted his mind when everything else felt too loud.

Yet his face betrayed him. He looked unhappy, his delicate features pinched in quiet frustration. His thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ring of his phone, vibrating against the now-pristine bedside table. The screen lit up with a familiar name: Mother. Hugo hesitated, his finger hovering over the answer button before finally pressing it.

"Hello, Mother," he greeted, his voice soft but steady.

"Hugo," she began, her tone clipped and devoid of warmth. "You called earlier...What do you need? Make it quick."

"I wanted to ask if you could send my diary from home. It’s important to me," Hugo said carefully, knowing how this conversation would likely unfold.

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a sharp sigh. "Your diary? Hugo, I don’t have time to deal with your childish whims."

"It’s not a whim," he replied, the strain in his voice barely noticeable. "You don’t even have to do it yourself. Just send the butler with Athena and Malcom. I’d… I’d like to see them."

Her voice turned colder, each word like a knife. "You know that’s not possible. I don’t want you near them, Hugo. What you are—it’s dangerous. I won’t have you corrupting them with… whatever this is."

Hugo’s grip on the phone tightened, but his tone remained calm. "I don’t plan to come home, Mother. I just—"

The line went dead before he could finish. He stared at the phone for a moment, his heart sinking into a familiar ache. Even now, away from their house, the shadow of his parents’ disapproval followed him. They had always taught him to hate Primalists, to fear what they could do. Now, being one himself, that self-loathing was a quiet undercurrent in his life—one he didn’t dare share with anyone else. Though he cared for those around him with a motherly tenderness, there was always a part of him held back, unable to just let go and be like the others.

He slipped his phone into his pocket and took a deep breath before stepping out of the dorm room. The hall outside was bustling with the sounds of students, but Hugo’s attention was immediately drawn to a figure leaning casually against the wall. Francisco. The tall student’s presence was a dark cloud in Hugo’s day, and he knew exactly why Francisco was here. Before Hugo could even react, Francisco was in front of him, his broad frame blocking the hallway as he loomed over Hugo.

"Morning, Darling," Francisco said, his voice syrupy and mocking. He held out a stack of papers and shoved them into Hugo’s hands. "Homework. Due next week. You know the drill."

Hugo stared at the papers, his jaw tightening. "You’re so childish, Francisco," he said evenly, but the words lacked venom.

Francisco’s smirk widened. "And you’re so obedient. That’s what I like about you. Always the perfect little helper." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don’t forget—I’ve got a whole folder of dirt on your family. You can thank my dad for that. Would be a shame if the tabloids got hold of it, you know?"

Hugo’s chest tightened. His thoughts went immediately to his siblings, to the quiet lives they deserved. Protecting them was all that mattered. Without a word, he gave a small nod of compliance.

Francisco’s grin turned predatory as he reached out and ran a finger down Hugo’s cheek, a gesture that sent an icy shiver through him. "You’re so beautiful when you comply, you know that?" Francisco mocked, his tone dripping with condescension. "Smart, pretty, and so delicate. You’ll make the perfect bride for some lucky man someday—always following the rules, no backbone to speak of. Just a delicate little flower."

Hugo closed his eyes, letting out a weary sigh as Francisco finally stepped back. His tormentor strolled off, whistling as if he hadn’t just crushed Hugo’s spirit underfoot. The snowmancer stood there for a moment, his hands trembling slightly before he steadied himself. Hugo clutched the papers to his chest and headed toward the opening ceremony. The halls were alive with chatter, excitement buzzing in the air as the school prepared to welcome the new arrivals. As he passed by one of the communal washrooms, Hugo noticed a familiar figure waving at him—John Summers. Always so cheerful, John greeted everyone he passed, Hugo included.

"Good morning, John," Hugo replied with a slight bow of his head. His tone was polite, even friendly, but there wasn’t much else to it. He didn’t linger, didn’t stop to chat. Though John had always been kind to him, Hugo’s mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with worries too heavy to share. Hugo straightened his posture, smoothed the creases in his uniform, and continued forth, ready to bury his own troubles for the sake of the ceremony.

I'll toss in interest for this! Love a concept that blends the magic world with the modern world.

Cheers!🐸
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