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sweetpinkpixie · 05-21-2026, 12:51 PM

Text Cut: BRO!

Quote:

Originally Posted by renmarie

Wesley Blackwell had quickly learned that Hogwarts was never truly quiet.

The castle breathed with noise; distant laughter echoing through corridors, suits of armour clanking at odd hours, ghosts drifting through walls mid-conversation, and the constant buzz of students who already seemed to know exactly where they belonged.

Wesley didn’t.

Not yet.

So when the castle became too loud, too crowded, or too overwhelming, he found himself wandering farther and farther from it without really meaning to. Today had carried him all the way down to the duck pond, where the world finally seemed to slow down enough for him to think.

Or at least try to.

The cool autumn air nipped at his cheeks as he sat beneath one of the old trees near the water’s edge, one knee pulled up while a thick book rested forgotten across it. He’d originally brought it with every intention of reading, but the page had remained untouched for nearly twenty minutes now.

Instead, his eyes followed the ripples spreading across the pond as a pair of ducks drifted lazily through the darkening water.

Canada felt impossibly far away tonight.

Ilvermorny. Familiar faces. Familiar skies. Home.

Everything here still felt strange in a way Wesley couldn’t quite explain. Hogwarts was impressive. It was enormous, ancient, alive in ways he’d never expected, but stepping into a school where everyone else already had history together was like arriving halfway through a story everyone else understood.

He exhaled quietly through his nose, rubbing absentmindedly at the corner of the page with his thumb.

Maybe that was why he liked it out here.

The pond didn’t expect anything from him.

No introductions. No questions about why he transferred. No awkward conversations where people tried to place his accent. Just cold air, rustling trees, and enough silence for his thoughts to untangle themselves a little.

One of the ducks suddenly let out an aggressive quack near the shoreline, causing Wesley to blink before a short laugh escaped him unexpectedly.

“Yeah,” he muttered toward the bird. “You get it.”

The sound of footsteps reached the pond before CJ himself did. They were not even remotely subtle and the sort accompanied by the occasional loud CRUNCH of leaves, a stage muttered 'who put a ROOT there?!', and at one point the unmistakable noise of someone nearly eating absolute dirt before recovering with an equally eloquent 'whoa-ho-HO, still got it!'

"YOOOO! Wil' Wil' Wes!"

The words cracked across the quiet pond with the sheer emotional force of someone discovering civilization after months stranded at sea.

CJ appeared through the trees a second later looking wildly overjoyed, scarf half hanging off one shoulder, tie loosened like he hadn't even bothered to tie a knot that morning and hooted at his fellow displaced Pukwudgie immediately.

Without invitation or shame, he promptly dropped down onto the grass beside Wes with enough force to probably startle nearby wildlife... which meant several ducks went quaking and scuttering to the other side of the pond.

"Dude, this place is INSANE." He gestured vaguely back toward the castle behind him. "I got roasted by a painting this morning because apparently I 'walk with the confidence of someone who cannot read.'" CJ stared off for a second in genuine bafflement before looking back at Wes with both hands out helplessly. "What does that even MEAN? Like… I can read. Pretty good, too. Slow sometimes and hate doing it aloud in front of people. But STILL."

He dragged both hands through his hair before scrubbing them dramatically down his face with a groan.

"Maybe it’s a British thing."

That conclusion visibly made the most sense to him.

"The girls here keep saying weirdly threatening smart people stuff to me too." he continued, lowering his voice slightly like he was sharing survival intel. "Like I'll just be standing there minding my business and suddenly BAM.” He paused for a hot second. "One of them threw a goblet at my face, bro. Another called me stupid straight to my face, apparently."

He demonstrated the trajectory with both hands like a sports commentator breaking down game footage, complete with a slow-motion duck that almost sent him off balance. Another hot second pause followed while he straightened himself back up.

"Pretty sure that could have been flirting though."

He pointed vaguely toward the castle again, except the gesture kept drifting off target because he was too busy talking with his whole body.

"And the portrait lady? Ancient. Massive powdered wig. Very busy and important, or something." He spread both hands outward around his own head, miming the extravagant size of it. "Thing looked less like hair and more like a birdcage. So honestly I don't know if she hated me specifically or if British ladies are all just kinda… INTENSE by default."

05-21-2026, 12:51 PM	#9 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie SSRPG Admin Gladrags Mod Quibbler Mod Minister for Magic Alley Proprietor Sea Serpent Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths Posts: 41,368 Hogwarts RPG Name: Professor Cox Ravenclaw Graduated Hogwarts RPG Name: CJ Miller Gryffindor Third Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Nyle Harden Hufflepuff Sixth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Iris Harden Ravenclaw Sixth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Calliope Barrington Slytherin Fifth Year Ministry Department Head: Charles Hollingberry Minister's Office Ministry Department Head: Airey Flamsteed Mysteries Diagon Alley Proprietor: Victor García Massey Ollivanders x12 x12	astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf Text Cut: BRO! Quote: Originally Posted by renmarie Wesley Blackwell had quickly learned that Hogwarts was never truly quiet. The castle breathed with noise; distant laughter echoing through corridors, suits of armour clanking at odd hours, ghosts drifting through walls mid-conversation, and the constant buzz of students who already seemed to know exactly where they belonged. Wesley didn’t. Not yet. So when the castle became too loud, too crowded, or too overwhelming, he found himself wandering farther and farther from it without really meaning to. Today had carried him all the way down to the duck pond, where the world finally seemed to slow down enough for him to think. Or at least try to. The cool autumn air nipped at his cheeks as he sat beneath one of the old trees near the water’s edge, one knee pulled up while a thick book rested forgotten across it. He’d originally brought it with every intention of reading, but the page had remained untouched for nearly twenty minutes now. Instead, his eyes followed the ripples spreading across the pond as a pair of ducks drifted lazily through the darkening water. Canada felt impossibly far away tonight. Ilvermorny. Familiar faces. Familiar skies. Home. Everything here still felt strange in a way Wesley couldn’t quite explain. Hogwarts was impressive. It was enormous, ancient, alive in ways he’d never expected, but stepping into a school where everyone else already had history together was like arriving halfway through a story everyone else understood. He exhaled quietly through his nose, rubbing absentmindedly at the corner of the page with his thumb. Maybe that was why he liked it out here. The pond didn’t expect anything from him. No introductions. No questions about why he transferred. No awkward conversations where people tried to place his accent. Just cold air, rustling trees, and enough silence for his thoughts to untangle themselves a little. One of the ducks suddenly let out an aggressive quack near the shoreline, causing Wesley to blink before a short laugh escaped him unexpectedly. “Yeah,” he muttered toward the bird. “You get it.” The sound of footsteps reached the pond before CJ himself did. They were not even remotely subtle and the sort accompanied by the occasional loud CRUNCH of leaves, a stage muttered 'who put a ROOT there?!', and at one point the unmistakable noise of someone nearly eating absolute dirt before recovering with an equally eloquent 'whoa-ho-HO, still got it!' "YOOOO! Wil' Wil' Wes!" The words cracked across the quiet pond with the sheer emotional force of someone discovering civilization after months stranded at sea. CJ appeared through the trees a second later looking wildly overjoyed, scarf half hanging off one shoulder, tie loosened like he hadn't even bothered to tie a knot that morning and hooted at his fellow displaced Pukwudgie immediately. Without invitation or shame, he promptly dropped down onto the grass beside Wes with enough force to probably startle nearby wildlife... which meant several ducks went quaking and scuttering to the other side of the pond. "Dude, this place is INSANE." He gestured vaguely back toward the castle behind him. "I got roasted by a painting this morning because apparently I 'walk with the confidence of someone who cannot read.'" CJ stared off for a second in genuine bafflement before looking back at Wes with both hands out helplessly. "*What does that even MEAN? Like… I can* read. Pretty good, too. Slow sometimes and hate doing it aloud in front of people. But STILL." He dragged both hands through his hair before scrubbing them dramatically down his face with a groan. "Maybe it’s a British thing." That conclusion visibly made the most sense to him. "The girls here keep saying weirdly threatening smart people stuff to me too." he continued, lowering his voice slightly like he was sharing survival intel. "Like I'll just be standing there minding my business and suddenly BAM.” He paused for a hot second. "One of them threw a goblet at my face, bro. Another called me stupid straight to my face, apparently." He demonstrated the trajectory with both hands like a sports commentator breaking down game footage, complete with a slow-motion duck that almost sent him off balance. Another hot second pause followed while he straightened himself back up. "Pretty sure that could have been flirting though." He pointed vaguely toward the castle again, except the gesture kept drifting off target because he was too busy talking with his whole body. "And the portrait lady? Ancient. Massive powdered wig. Very busy and important, or something." He spread both hands outward around his own head, miming the extravagant size of it. "Thing looked less like hair and more like a birdcage. So honestly I don't know if she hated me specifically or if British ladies are all just kinda… INTENSE by default.**" __________________ We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back......................................... But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass..................................... The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like