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        Animals, Ass, and Bad: Hey since I haven't been active in forever, who wants to hear a story
 about how 1 became a local cryptid in my town?
 Heck yeah!
 Yes
 Reply
 Alright lets do this
 So l live in a small neighborhood kinda thing, Its honestly shaped like
 someone connected two bongs with a straw that leads out to the street,
 so very tiny and not a lot of people drive through cause its a dead end
 and surrounded by woods Anyways, so it's Saturday morning, like 3 am
 and my sister has taken her behemoth of a dog outside
 Little background, this dog is a saint bermard, lab mix, so he big. Hes
 also amazingly stupid. He's only three and we got him a year ago so he
 still does stupid shit all the time. Anyways hes got a long lead line on
 him, probably 30 ft, so hes off doing whatever and ny sister is kinda
 dazed, still sleepy.
 Homeboy fucking TAKES OFF and runs into the woods behind y
 house, taking that lead with him and a good chunk of my sisters pal
 skin. Whatever he's chasing has speed, and hes keeping up with it. So l
 run outside cause shes screaming his name and start to take off after
 him. 1 thought that mother fucker would get caught on a tree due to the
 lead but nope was I wrong. Now the woods probably go a mile back
 before they hit road, and then stretch around s miles hotizontally
 I'm worried this dumb dog is gonna run into the street and get hit, so l
 run the mile to the street (with my very out of shape body. 1 honestly
 thought I was going to die). After like r5 minutes of tripping and trying
 to make my way through this damn jungle, I get to the street. At this
 point 1 still look a human so nothing happens, 1 dont see him anywhere,
 and 1 run back to the house cause I've realized I'm in a tank top and
 boxer shorts with no shoes and its tick season. So I change into a big ass
 sweatshirt and sweat pants and boots even though its almost oo degrees
 out because I do not want to have to deal with ticks
 After chugging some water 1 take back off, this time going horizontally
 1 caught sight of something running so l took off, yelling ny brains out
 managing to sprain my ankle and rip half my hair outta my ponytail in
 the process Around a mile downl lose sight of it so l turn and hike the
 mile back to the street just to make sure it didn't go that way
 After that I go back to my house, and then return to the spot where i
 last saw him and continue walking till Imlike 2 miles away
 So my trip so far has been
 mile to street> mile home > i mile hotizontally>t mile to street >2
 miles home> 2 ½ miles horizontally
 So I'm about ready to die. I'm covering in blood from smashing y arm
 one of my eyes has turned red cause a stick poked it, I've got a limp, I'm
 breathing like a dragon with asthma, and I'm covering in leaves and
 sticks
 I start yelling his name again and hear a bark in the distance so 1 take off
 and after like 5 minutes I spot him He is now howling like a banshee in
 distress I book it towards his dumb ass and practically tackle him,
 which ended up with me covered in a random assortment of shit. Cool,
 whatever. His leash is tied atound two trees so I unravel it and he
 pounces on me in relief. He's salivating like crazy so I take him to a
 stream near by to let him drink
 Mother fucker pulls me in. I'm too tired to be pissed. At this point now
 that I'm calming down I realize my boots are now soaking wet with
 both blood and water. I've got several scars on my thigh and they all got
 ripped open So Im gushing blood like no tomorrow.I soak my jacket in
 water and put it on this stupid dog so he wont get burnt on the way
 back and itll be a bit cooler. So now he looks even bigger then usual 1
 take my shoes off and toss then over my neck and we're about to start
 the trek back when he takes off AGAIN. This time I'm holding the leash
 and 1 do not let go. He ends up slipping on a mud bank and taking me
 with him With are now covered head to toe in nad, shit, dirt, blood
 and whatever the hell else is in those woods.
 Some how he has ended up with no major wounds, but now I have a
 rock lodged in my forehead and blood in my eyes. And my shoes are
 gone. Whatever, 1 just want to get home. 1 pick a direction and walk
 until 1 end up in the back yard of someone who lives down the street.
 Lucky for me, this person has barbed wire in their back yard on the
 ground for some reason, which I trip on Now I have barbed wire
 practically wrapped around me like some crazy fashion statement. I
 wanted to get home so bad 1 didn't even bother to rip it off. I'd do that
 So now its like 6am, so its dark, but you can still see, and its dead quiet.
 I pull my sisters dog along with me, holding his collar so he cant take
 off again. So heres me, covered in blood, mud, and barbed wire, limping
 down the street, no shoes on, with a large dog wearing a jacket, which,
 from a distance, you cant tell. Now I smell like whatever was in those
 woods, and it is a strong smell, so as I walk by any house with a dog
 outside, that dog starts barking. Eventually the quiet is replaced with
 dogs howling, barking, snarling at me. 1 eventually make it back to my
 house, but not before passing a dude getting his newspaper or whatever
 He's a good distance away from me and he hesitantly calls out asking if
 Im okay. I respond with "yeah but I've been yelling for like 3 hours
 t as ungodly rasp. He goes right the fuck back in
 l get home, get cleaned up, get the dog cleaned up, and everythings fine
 UNTIL a couple nights later my mom goes to a neighborhood meeting
 story
 Turns out, there had been a black bear in the woods near my house,
 which people had been keeping an eye out for, but instead they saw
 (what they thought) was a "humanoid figure covered in spikes dragging
 a bear covered in blood around by its neck
 For the next few weeks people were talking about how they heard
 the "hortiie screeching" and how there was blood all down the streets
 and on the trees. The dude who asked if I was okay was telling
 everybody that the "thing growled at him and he could see it had blood
 red eyes
 So now theres a rumor about a demon with razor sharp tendrils who
 feeds on wild animals by slashing them open and drinking their blood
 Rumor states that you'll hear it before you see it, and the sound it makes
 sounds like a howl and a scream People later found my boots covered in
 blood and said it was a "victim of the demon. A week later a house that
 was being built caught fire and that was blamed on me, as well as an
 accident where someone swerved to avoid something and crashed
 through a house. The stream turned blood red after some heavy rainfall.
 which was due to the mud, but also blamed on me and some mote
 for a couple nights (coyotes most
 people "spotting" the demon (which was either their imagination or the
 actual bear) the rumot grew and grew so now its famous in my
 neighborhood
 So yeah thats how 1 became a bear killing demon in my neighborhood.
 I was too embarrassed.
How to become a cryptid
        

            
            

                
                
                    Animals, Ass, and Bad: Hey since I haven't been active in forever, who wants to hear a story
 about how 1 became a local cryptid in my town?
 Heck yeah!
 Yes
 Reply
 Alright lets do this
 So l live in a small neighborhood kinda thing, Its honestly shaped like
 someone connected two bongs with a straw that leads out to the street,
 so very tiny and not a lot of people drive through cause its a dead end
 and surrounded by woods Anyways, so it's Saturday morning, like 3 am
 and my sister has taken her behemoth of a dog outside
 Little background, this dog is a saint bermard, lab mix, so he big. Hes
 also amazingly stupid. He's only three and we got him a year ago so he
 still does stupid shit all the time. Anyways hes got a long lead line on
 him, probably 30 ft, so hes off doing whatever and ny sister is kinda
 dazed, still sleepy.
 Homeboy fucking TAKES OFF and runs into the woods behind y
 house, taking that lead with him and a good chunk of my sisters pal
 skin. Whatever he's chasing has speed, and hes keeping up with it. So l
 run outside cause shes screaming his name and start to take off after
 him. 1 thought that mother fucker would get caught on a tree due to the
 lead but nope was I wrong. Now the woods probably go a mile back
 before they hit road, and then stretch around s miles hotizontally
 I'm worried this dumb dog is gonna run into the street and get hit, so l
 run the mile to the street (with my very out of shape body. 1 honestly
 thought I was going to die). After like r5 minutes of tripping and trying
 to make my way through this damn jungle, I get to the street. At this
 point 1 still look a human so nothing happens, 1 dont see him anywhere,
 and 1 run back to the house cause I've realized I'm in a tank top and
 boxer shorts with no shoes and its tick season. So I change into a big ass
 sweatshirt and sweat pants and boots even though its almost oo degrees
 out because I do not want to have to deal with ticks
 After chugging some water 1 take back off, this time going horizontally
 1 caught sight of something running so l took off, yelling ny brains out
 managing to sprain my ankle and rip half my hair outta my ponytail in
 the process Around a mile downl lose sight of it so l turn and hike the
 mile back to the street just to make sure it didn't go that way
 After that I go back to my house, and then return to the spot where i
 last saw him and continue walking till Imlike 2 miles away
 So my trip so far has been
 mile to street> mile home > i mile hotizontally>t mile to street >2
 miles home> 2 ½ miles horizontally
 So I'm about ready to die. I'm covering in blood from smashing y arm
 one of my eyes has turned red cause a stick poked it, I've got a limp, I'm
 breathing like a dragon with asthma, and I'm covering in leaves and
 sticks
 I start yelling his name again and hear a bark in the distance so 1 take off
 and after like 5 minutes I spot him He is now howling like a banshee in
 distress I book it towards his dumb ass and practically tackle him,
 which ended up with me covered in a random assortment of shit. Cool,
 whatever. His leash is tied atound two trees so I unravel it and he
 pounces on me in relief. He's salivating like crazy so I take him to a
 stream near by to let him drink
 Mother fucker pulls me in. I'm too tired to be pissed. At this point now
 that I'm calming down I realize my boots are now soaking wet with
 both blood and water. I've got several scars on my thigh and they all got
 ripped open So Im gushing blood like no tomorrow.I soak my jacket in
 water and put it on this stupid dog so he wont get burnt on the way
 back and itll be a bit cooler. So now he looks even bigger then usual 1
 take my shoes off and toss then over my neck and we're about to start
 the trek back when he takes off AGAIN. This time I'm holding the leash
 and 1 do not let go. He ends up slipping on a mud bank and taking me
 with him With are now covered head to toe in nad, shit, dirt, blood
 and whatever the hell else is in those woods.
 Some how he has ended up with no major wounds, but now I have a
 rock lodged in my forehead and blood in my eyes. And my shoes are
 gone. Whatever, 1 just want to get home. 1 pick a direction and walk
 until 1 end up in the back yard of someone who lives down the street.
 Lucky for me, this person has barbed wire in their back yard on the
 ground for some reason, which I trip on Now I have barbed wire
 practically wrapped around me like some crazy fashion statement. I
 wanted to get home so bad 1 didn't even bother to rip it off. I'd do that
 So now its like 6am, so its dark, but you can still see, and its dead quiet.
 I pull my sisters dog along with me, holding his collar so he cant take
 off again. So heres me, covered in blood, mud, and barbed wire, limping
 down the street, no shoes on, with a large dog wearing a jacket, which,
 from a distance, you cant tell. Now I smell like whatever was in those
 woods, and it is a strong smell, so as I walk by any house with a dog
 outside, that dog starts barking. Eventually the quiet is replaced with
 dogs howling, barking, snarling at me. 1 eventually make it back to my
 house, but not before passing a dude getting his newspaper or whatever
 He's a good distance away from me and he hesitantly calls out asking if
 Im okay. I respond with "yeah but I've been yelling for like 3 hours
 t as ungodly rasp. He goes right the fuck back in
 l get home, get cleaned up, get the dog cleaned up, and everythings fine
 UNTIL a couple nights later my mom goes to a neighborhood meeting
 story
 Turns out, there had been a black bear in the woods near my house,
 which people had been keeping an eye out for, but instead they saw
 (what they thought) was a "humanoid figure covered in spikes dragging
 a bear covered in blood around by its neck
 For the next few weeks people were talking about how they heard
 the "hortiie screeching" and how there was blood all down the streets
 and on the trees. The dude who asked if I was okay was telling
 everybody that the "thing growled at him and he could see it had blood
 red eyes
 So now theres a rumor about a demon with razor sharp tendrils who
 feeds on wild animals by slashing them open and drinking their blood
 Rumor states that you'll hear it before you see it, and the sound it makes
 sounds like a howl and a scream People later found my boots covered in
 blood and said it was a "victim of the demon. A week later a house that
 was being built caught fire and that was blamed on me, as well as an
 accident where someone swerved to avoid something and crashed
 through a house. The stream turned blood red after some heavy rainfall.
 which was due to the mud, but also blamed on me and some mote
 for a couple nights (coyotes most
 people "spotting" the demon (which was either their imagination or the
 actual bear) the rumot grew and grew so now its famous in my
 neighborhood
 So yeah thats how 1 became a bear killing demon in my neighborhood.
 I was too embarrassed.
How to become a cryptid
                    
                
            

            
            
        

    

    

        
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        Bad, Community, and Facebook: СИТ
 Нлаn
william-shakespeare-jr:When we see, or meet someone we feel the need to label, categorize, and stereotype people. It gives people solace. We are so used to labelling others and ourselves, that sometimes we forget who we are. We forget to shed all the layers of labels society has attached to our personas, we don’t realize that we are all human. It’s time we take back our identity, and see people for who they are.There are various negative stereotypes associated with the heavy metal community. Many believe that we are violent, worship Satan or are just plain angry. I can’t think of any other music fanbase with negative stereotypes like these. I acknowledge that the stereotypes associated with metalheads are not as bad as those associated with POC or the LGBT community, however any and all stereotypes are unkind and it is not fair to judge a person’s morals by how they dress or the music the listen to. To all who genuinely believe negative stereotypes about metalheads, I suggest you get to know one. You may be surprised how kind us “angry, violent, satanic” people can be. I am a metalhead. I am not a bad person. I am human #takeitback PC: Mori Peri
I’d like to thank everyone who is being so supportive of my participation in this project. I have been receiving a lot of messages on Facebook saying that because I am a straight, white man, that it’s not my place to have taken a part of this project. The director stated that it is supposed to be about stereotypes and being mislabelled, not marginalization. I did not intend to offend anyone.
        

            
            

                
                
                    Bad, Community, and Facebook: СИТ
 Нлаn
william-shakespeare-jr:When we see, or meet someone we feel the need to label, categorize, and stereotype people. It gives people solace. We are so used to labelling others and ourselves, that sometimes we forget who we are. We forget to shed all the layers of labels society has attached to our personas, we don’t realize that we are all human. It’s time we take back our identity, and see people for who they are.There are various negative stereotypes associated with the heavy metal community. Many believe that we are violent, worship Satan or are just plain angry. I can’t think of any other music fanbase with negative stereotypes like these. I acknowledge that the stereotypes associated with metalheads are not as bad as those associated with POC or the LGBT community, however any and all stereotypes are unkind and it is not fair to judge a person’s morals by how they dress or the music the listen to. To all who genuinely believe negative stereotypes about metalheads, I suggest you get to know one. You may be surprised how kind us “angry, violent, satanic” people can be. I am a metalhead. I am not a bad person. I am human #takeitback PC: Mori Peri
I’d like to thank everyone who is being so supportive of my participation in this project. I have been receiving a lot of messages on Facebook saying that because I am a straight, white man, that it’s not my place to have taken a part of this project. The director stated that it is supposed to be about stereotypes and being mislabelled, not marginalization. I did not intend to offend anyone.
                    
                
            

            
                
                
william-shakespeare-jr:When we see, or meet someone we feel the need to label, categorize, and stereotype people. It gives people solace. We...

                
            
            
        

    

    

        
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        Bad, Bones, and Books: 1:47
 About Act Issues
 Why is there a frog standing
 directly behind Trump?
 That's Pepe. He's a symbol associated with
 white supremacy.
 Wait. Really? White
 supremacy?
 That's right.
 Please explain
 Here's the short version: Pepe is a cartoon
 frog who began his internet life as an
 innocent meme enjoyed by teenagers and
 pop stars alike.
 But in recent months, Pepe's been almost
 entirely co-opted by the white
 supremacists who call themselves the "alt-
 right." They've decided to take back Pepe
 by adding swastikas and other symbols of
clint-thrasher-barton:

evil-bones-mccoy:

darkseid:

glamourweaver:

dangergays:

doomy:

what did we do to deserve this election season

THIS ISNT A TUMBLR P AGE THIS ISNT MADE UP , THE ACTUAL DEMOCRATIC CANDIDATE SAID THAT?? popular internet meme… PEPE the frog… is ?? WHITE SUPREMCISIST???? in response to the fucking republican nominee using a MEME on TWITTER in the first place???2016 is one for the history books

They’re right though - you don’t see it necessarily on your tumblr feed, but if you look at the most shared pepe images in recent months on the Google searchable web they’ve been alt-right white supremacist ones.  So yeah, it has absolutely been co-opted.  It’s bizarre that this has happened, but the Clinton website pointing it out is not the truly bizarre part, the fact that it happened is.

well shit. that is a really fucking weird thing to do and I had no idea

RIP Pepe, he was so rare and pure


It’s so weird. Yeah he’s been co-opted by those jackasses but it’s also baffling how much of a piece of sensationalist, click-baiting yellow journalism this article is.It’s like if someone took all the bad parts of 20th Century history and just jammed it all into one year.Lest we forget the true pepe is a commie“Shoot, you are only going to kill a frog.”
        

            
            

                
                
                    Bad, Bones, and Books: 1:47
 About Act Issues
 Why is there a frog standing
 directly behind Trump?
 That's Pepe. He's a symbol associated with
 white supremacy.
 Wait. Really? White
 supremacy?
 That's right.
 Please explain
 Here's the short version: Pepe is a cartoon
 frog who began his internet life as an
 innocent meme enjoyed by teenagers and
 pop stars alike.
 But in recent months, Pepe's been almost
 entirely co-opted by the white
 supremacists who call themselves the "alt-
 right." They've decided to take back Pepe
 by adding swastikas and other symbols of
clint-thrasher-barton:

evil-bones-mccoy:

darkseid:

glamourweaver:

dangergays:

doomy:

what did we do to deserve this election season

THIS ISNT A TUMBLR P AGE THIS ISNT MADE UP , THE ACTUAL DEMOCRATIC CANDIDATE SAID THAT?? popular internet meme… PEPE the frog… is ?? WHITE SUPREMCISIST???? in response to the fucking republican nominee using a MEME on TWITTER in the first place???2016 is one for the history books

They’re right though - you don’t see it necessarily on your tumblr feed, but if you look at the most shared pepe images in recent months on the Google searchable web they’ve been alt-right white supremacist ones.  So yeah, it has absolutely been co-opted.  It’s bizarre that this has happened, but the Clinton website pointing it out is not the truly bizarre part, the fact that it happened is.

well shit. that is a really fucking weird thing to do and I had no idea

RIP Pepe, he was so rare and pure


It’s so weird. Yeah he’s been co-opted by those jackasses but it’s also baffling how much of a piece of sensationalist, click-baiting yellow journalism this article is.It’s like if someone took all the bad parts of 20th Century history and just jammed it all into one year.Lest we forget the true pepe is a commie“Shoot, you are only going to kill a frog.”
                    
                
            

            
            
        

    

    

        
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        Advice, Alive, and Being Alone: HARRY POTTER
 pumpkins leered from every corner. Harry led the
 Dean and Seamus, who were discussing those
 students of seventeen or over who might be entering
 There's a rumour going round, Warrington got up eaty au
 put his name in,' Dean told Harry. That big bloke f
 Hogwa
 Slytherin who looks like a sloth.'
 Harry, who had played Quidditch against Warrington,she
 his head in disgust. We can't have a Slytherin champion!
 'And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory,s
 eamus contemptuously. But I wouldn't have thought he
bait1598:
sprout2012:

madoneworld:

parseltonquinq:

peaceheather:

blueboxbellethethird:

prismatic-bell:

cinematicnomad:

aplatonicjacuzzi:

crazybutperfectlysane:

So I was rereading Harry Potter, when I came across this and thought- what if instead of Cedric Diggory, Cassius Warrington had been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?
Imagine Dumbledore calling out the name of the Hogwarts champion and it isn’t a Gryffindor, or a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff, but it’s a Slytherin. A student from a House most people hate.
Imagine Cassius Warrington getting up, and three out of four Houses are booing at him and shouting things like “NO!” or, “We can’t have a Slytherin champion!” or demanding a retry. But he’s a Slytherin- he’s been dealing with this shit since he got sorted, so he keeps his head high and joins the other champions.
Imagine Harry trying to catch Warrington alone because he doesn’t really want to associate with Slytherins (plus Malfoy has this tendency of being around the guy ALL THE TIME since he got chosen), but at the same time he’s also fair enough not to want him to walk into the first task unprepared.
Imagine Warrington walking over to Harry a few months later, and Ron and Hermione both jump into a protective stance, wands out, but instead of attacking Harry he just tells him to stick the egg underwater. (Because Slytherins don’t forget those who helped them out).
Imagine Warrington and Harry helping each other out in the labyrinth.
Imagine Harry being devastated when Peter kills Warrington- because Voldemort doesn’t care what house they’re form, a spare is a spare.
Imagine the uproar that causes among the Slytherins, because some of their parents really are Death Eaters and they know what really happened.
Imagine Slytherins fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts and shouting “This is for Cassius!”

Imagine Harry returning with Warrington’s body, and the crowd realizes what’s happened, but Warrington’s parents don’t show up. There’s no one to mourn him, to cradle him in their arms and cry for their son. The Slytherins know why. His parents were Death Eaters, too.
Imagine Slytherins reaching out, asking for help from classmates from other houses. They’re terrified, truly terrified because the being their parents claimed would never hurt them because they’re pureblood, they realize that he does not care.
Imagine Slytherins in the 5th book sneaking off to join Dumbledore’s Army, to learn more about who Voldemort is without their parents acting as a filter. 
Imagine the shock when they’re told what he’s really done.
Imagine that a few talented Slytherins went with Harry and the others into the Ministry of Magic. The others are a bit wary but they prove themselves as friends.
Imagine them being confronted by Lucius Malfoy in the the Hall of Prophecy, and when the Death Eaters descend, they know that any one of them could be their parents.
Imagine the shocked gasp of a Death Eater as they realize their own child, a pureblood, is standing defiantly with Harry Potter. They choke back a cry. They can’t let their child know that they were about to duel to the death.
Imagine a DA Slytherin facing off against their own Death Eater parent. That they make the decision to let their child defeat them, because in that moment, they realize that they love their child more than they fear Voldemort. They go down, mask unveiled, and the Slytherin kid has to be dragged from the fight before he gets killed.
Imagine Book 6 Slytherins getting more friendly and cooperative with the other houses. Two years of Voldemort terrorizing the muggle and Wizarding world, two years where their parents just up and leave some days, cringing from the pain in their arm, two years after the death of the first Slytherin pureblood, Cassius Warrington, killed by Voldemort’s right-hand man, and they’re slowly hitting the breaking point.
Imagine Slytherin kids keeping tabs on their parents, sending the information to Harry, who shares it with the Order of the Phoenix, and hoping that their parents won’t be killed.
Imagine Book 7 Slytherins low-key rebelling against the new oppressive Hogwarts staff.
Imagine the final siege on Hogwarts, where Slytherins stand proudly by their fellow houses, knowing full-well they could be fighting their own parents. Some Slytherins know their parents were in the fighting. They hope to find them first and sneak them away. Their fellow students understand. Professor McGonagall allows 7th Year Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, to duel a death eater in her stead; her father is under that veil. She knows it.
Imagine the aftermath of the battle; every house suffered loses. Slytherin students crying over the deaths of friends they made in every house.
Imagine 

 a Cassius Warrington statue made in his honor, the first Slytherin to fight and die nobly with Harry Potter, the boy who lived, in the face of ultimate evil. He was a true Slytherin, and it’s in his name that Slytherin children and their families have cut all ties with the Death Eaters, denounced Voldemort, and are finally living in peace.

#i do enjoy cedric #but this would have been immensely wonderful in many ways (via batty4u) 

Imagine a story in which Harry wasn’t in love with his fellow champion’s girlfriend, but after her boyfriend’s death just hugs her so long, so hard, and says “he wanted to win for you. You should know–you should know he won, he did it for you” and gives her the best hug and shoulder he knows how to be because her parents aren’t there either and she must know why.

Imagine Harry staring over her head at everyone else until Hermione steps up–it doesn’t take long, but it takes long enough that when she does all eyes are on her as a source of motion–and says “we’re never going to forget this. They’re not going to get away with it” and the girlfriend just latches onto Hermione and everyone is in wands-out stance convinced she’s about to attack the shit out of Hermione, and then the girlfriend stares into her eyes and says “do you promise me” and Hermione just gives her this super-firm nod and says “I promise” and the girlfriend just collapses on her, sobbing. 

Imagine Dumbledore trying to give some flowery speech about inter-wizard solidarity while glossing over why, because Slytherins have always been a touchy subject, and Ron gets to his feet and says “Professor, I need to say something important” and Dumbledore is so surprised he just cedes the floor, and Ron–after that awkward moment when he realizes everyone is staring at him–says he didn’t know Warrington particularly, but he knows how Warrington and Harry played. That each was always cheering on the other. Both wanted to win, but neither was willing to undercut the other by underhanded means. He finishes up saying “I think–I think it’s important everyone should know he died being what a champion should be. Because he could have abandoned Harry and instead he stood up with him to play the game the honest way, and he died for it. And–and Slytherin House should be proud, and we should all be proud, because Warrington was a good bloke.” He sits back down all flustered because he didn’t actually stand up meaning to make a speech. And then Pansy Parkinson stands up before Dumbledore can take back control of the room and says “I want to tell Weasley thank you.” And all of Slytherin House raises a glass–to Warrington, to Weasley, to Potter–and the other houses follow suit. Many years later, Wizarding scholars will say that was the moment Voldemort truly lost.

Imagine later that summer. Harry gets several owls on his birthday, all unsigned. The birds are plump and pretentious and well-cared-for. He will never know which Slytherins sent him their treasures: parchments with hexes developed by the Death Eaters; a strange locket that will only open if he whispers a special spell but that always shows him the picture he most needs to see; a page torn from a potions book that, brewed properly, will allow him extra time to summon a Patronus by giving him a few crucial seconds not just of happiness but of bliss. It doesn’t matter. Harry knows these gifts not as birthday gifts but for what they really are, and he treasures the locket and copies out the potion to send to Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, and when first summoned by the Order of the Phoenix he marches straight up to Dumbledore with the hexes and says “I can’t tell you where I got these, Professor. But they’re in use by the Death Eaters and I think you should have them.” Months later, Sirius will recognize the spell Bellatrix shoots at him, and will dive out of the way just in the nick of time.

The final battle. Everyone is there. Sirius somehow ends up herding a group of Slytherins. They all stare at him and he at them, across a centuries-old divide Voldemort has only succeeded in deepening. Then he remembers the hexes. Harry’s locket, now tucked under Sirius’ shirt because Harry’s friends are with him in this battle but most of Sirius’ are dead. The moment that happiness potion saved Remus’ life, his very soul. Snape’s final words to Harry, finally seen not as mockery but real true advice. What Harry said Voldemort said–his first words in his new form. They are kids, and they are sharing the same kind of hurt he once wouldn’t admit to, watching his mother burn his name off the family tree. “When we go in there, it’s going to be hell,” he tells the Slytherins. “Some of you are probably going to die. I might go down too, and if I do I want your best curser in the front. But I want you all to remember one thing. There are no spares.”  Later retellings of the battle never fail to mention the moment a group of angry, screaming teens burst into the Great Hall, wearing their green and silver as the badge of honor it should be, shouting NO SPARES, NO SPARES at the tops of their voices in between hexes and curses and the occasional physical punch. When Hermione is present, she always interrupts the storyteller to be sure everyone knows about the moment Blaise Zabini shoved her to the floor, dropped on top of her, fired off three curses in rapid succession and said “stay alive, Granger, we need you” before jumping back to his feet and vanishing into the melee–how, for all anyone knows, those may have been his last words, and she will not let his sacrifice go unnoted. 

The aftermath. Malfoy holds out a hand to Sirius, badly injured on the floor. Sirius asks how Malfoy is willing to trust him. Malfoy nods at his chest. “You’ve got my godfather’s locket,” he says, and when Sirius and Harry finally speak after the battle Harry gives his full agreement to the very first thing out of  Sirius’ mouth. They give the locket to Malfoy. Sirius grits his teeth and closes his eyes and opens them and says “He probably saved my life, giving Harry that.” He doesn’t say thank you. Malfoy hears it anyway. 

The school reopens under a single banner: the four Houses united. The House rivalry is reduced to just that–a competition in fun–with those deep divides slowly healing to scars, and eventually away to nothing at all.

Imagine it.
When we stand, we stand united as one

And then there would be no hope for any uprising of evil, no users of the dark arts would dare to attack. There would be no neglected Slytherins turning to a darker cause. The unity Cassius Warrington’s death caused would come to save the world, time and time again, as would-be-Voldemorts find no followers. No children will ever have to fight their parents, or family. There would always be peace. 

oh christ somebody added to it and now i’m a soggy emotional wreck

I’m crying because this is what slytherins should have been and truly are

This is beautifully written and I wish it was in the books xx


This is such a fantastic read. A Slytherin triwizard champion sounds awesome.  

Best Harry Potter post

        

            
            

                
                
                    Advice, Alive, and Being Alone: HARRY POTTER
 pumpkins leered from every corner. Harry led the
 Dean and Seamus, who were discussing those
 students of seventeen or over who might be entering
 There's a rumour going round, Warrington got up eaty au
 put his name in,' Dean told Harry. That big bloke f
 Hogwa
 Slytherin who looks like a sloth.'
 Harry, who had played Quidditch against Warrington,she
 his head in disgust. We can't have a Slytherin champion!
 'And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory,s
 eamus contemptuously. But I wouldn't have thought he
bait1598:
sprout2012:

madoneworld:

parseltonquinq:

peaceheather:

blueboxbellethethird:

prismatic-bell:

cinematicnomad:

aplatonicjacuzzi:

crazybutperfectlysane:

So I was rereading Harry Potter, when I came across this and thought- what if instead of Cedric Diggory, Cassius Warrington had been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?
Imagine Dumbledore calling out the name of the Hogwarts champion and it isn’t a Gryffindor, or a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff, but it’s a Slytherin. A student from a House most people hate.
Imagine Cassius Warrington getting up, and three out of four Houses are booing at him and shouting things like “NO!” or, “We can’t have a Slytherin champion!” or demanding a retry. But he’s a Slytherin- he’s been dealing with this shit since he got sorted, so he keeps his head high and joins the other champions.
Imagine Harry trying to catch Warrington alone because he doesn’t really want to associate with Slytherins (plus Malfoy has this tendency of being around the guy ALL THE TIME since he got chosen), but at the same time he’s also fair enough not to want him to walk into the first task unprepared.
Imagine Warrington walking over to Harry a few months later, and Ron and Hermione both jump into a protective stance, wands out, but instead of attacking Harry he just tells him to stick the egg underwater. (Because Slytherins don’t forget those who helped them out).
Imagine Warrington and Harry helping each other out in the labyrinth.
Imagine Harry being devastated when Peter kills Warrington- because Voldemort doesn’t care what house they’re form, a spare is a spare.
Imagine the uproar that causes among the Slytherins, because some of their parents really are Death Eaters and they know what really happened.
Imagine Slytherins fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts and shouting “This is for Cassius!”

Imagine Harry returning with Warrington’s body, and the crowd realizes what’s happened, but Warrington’s parents don’t show up. There’s no one to mourn him, to cradle him in their arms and cry for their son. The Slytherins know why. His parents were Death Eaters, too.
Imagine Slytherins reaching out, asking for help from classmates from other houses. They’re terrified, truly terrified because the being their parents claimed would never hurt them because they’re pureblood, they realize that he does not care.
Imagine Slytherins in the 5th book sneaking off to join Dumbledore’s Army, to learn more about who Voldemort is without their parents acting as a filter. 
Imagine the shock when they’re told what he’s really done.
Imagine that a few talented Slytherins went with Harry and the others into the Ministry of Magic. The others are a bit wary but they prove themselves as friends.
Imagine them being confronted by Lucius Malfoy in the the Hall of Prophecy, and when the Death Eaters descend, they know that any one of them could be their parents.
Imagine the shocked gasp of a Death Eater as they realize their own child, a pureblood, is standing defiantly with Harry Potter. They choke back a cry. They can’t let their child know that they were about to duel to the death.
Imagine a DA Slytherin facing off against their own Death Eater parent. That they make the decision to let their child defeat them, because in that moment, they realize that they love their child more than they fear Voldemort. They go down, mask unveiled, and the Slytherin kid has to be dragged from the fight before he gets killed.
Imagine Book 6 Slytherins getting more friendly and cooperative with the other houses. Two years of Voldemort terrorizing the muggle and Wizarding world, two years where their parents just up and leave some days, cringing from the pain in their arm, two years after the death of the first Slytherin pureblood, Cassius Warrington, killed by Voldemort’s right-hand man, and they’re slowly hitting the breaking point.
Imagine Slytherin kids keeping tabs on their parents, sending the information to Harry, who shares it with the Order of the Phoenix, and hoping that their parents won’t be killed.
Imagine Book 7 Slytherins low-key rebelling against the new oppressive Hogwarts staff.
Imagine the final siege on Hogwarts, where Slytherins stand proudly by their fellow houses, knowing full-well they could be fighting their own parents. Some Slytherins know their parents were in the fighting. They hope to find them first and sneak them away. Their fellow students understand. Professor McGonagall allows 7th Year Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, to duel a death eater in her stead; her father is under that veil. She knows it.
Imagine the aftermath of the battle; every house suffered loses. Slytherin students crying over the deaths of friends they made in every house.
Imagine 

 a Cassius Warrington statue made in his honor, the first Slytherin to fight and die nobly with Harry Potter, the boy who lived, in the face of ultimate evil. He was a true Slytherin, and it’s in his name that Slytherin children and their families have cut all ties with the Death Eaters, denounced Voldemort, and are finally living in peace.

#i do enjoy cedric #but this would have been immensely wonderful in many ways (via batty4u) 

Imagine a story in which Harry wasn’t in love with his fellow champion’s girlfriend, but after her boyfriend’s death just hugs her so long, so hard, and says “he wanted to win for you. You should know–you should know he won, he did it for you” and gives her the best hug and shoulder he knows how to be because her parents aren’t there either and she must know why.

Imagine Harry staring over her head at everyone else until Hermione steps up–it doesn’t take long, but it takes long enough that when she does all eyes are on her as a source of motion–and says “we’re never going to forget this. They’re not going to get away with it” and the girlfriend just latches onto Hermione and everyone is in wands-out stance convinced she’s about to attack the shit out of Hermione, and then the girlfriend stares into her eyes and says “do you promise me” and Hermione just gives her this super-firm nod and says “I promise” and the girlfriend just collapses on her, sobbing. 

Imagine Dumbledore trying to give some flowery speech about inter-wizard solidarity while glossing over why, because Slytherins have always been a touchy subject, and Ron gets to his feet and says “Professor, I need to say something important” and Dumbledore is so surprised he just cedes the floor, and Ron–after that awkward moment when he realizes everyone is staring at him–says he didn’t know Warrington particularly, but he knows how Warrington and Harry played. That each was always cheering on the other. Both wanted to win, but neither was willing to undercut the other by underhanded means. He finishes up saying “I think–I think it’s important everyone should know he died being what a champion should be. Because he could have abandoned Harry and instead he stood up with him to play the game the honest way, and he died for it. And–and Slytherin House should be proud, and we should all be proud, because Warrington was a good bloke.” He sits back down all flustered because he didn’t actually stand up meaning to make a speech. And then Pansy Parkinson stands up before Dumbledore can take back control of the room and says “I want to tell Weasley thank you.” And all of Slytherin House raises a glass–to Warrington, to Weasley, to Potter–and the other houses follow suit. Many years later, Wizarding scholars will say that was the moment Voldemort truly lost.

Imagine later that summer. Harry gets several owls on his birthday, all unsigned. The birds are plump and pretentious and well-cared-for. He will never know which Slytherins sent him their treasures: parchments with hexes developed by the Death Eaters; a strange locket that will only open if he whispers a special spell but that always shows him the picture he most needs to see; a page torn from a potions book that, brewed properly, will allow him extra time to summon a Patronus by giving him a few crucial seconds not just of happiness but of bliss. It doesn’t matter. Harry knows these gifts not as birthday gifts but for what they really are, and he treasures the locket and copies out the potion to send to Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, and when first summoned by the Order of the Phoenix he marches straight up to Dumbledore with the hexes and says “I can’t tell you where I got these, Professor. But they’re in use by the Death Eaters and I think you should have them.” Months later, Sirius will recognize the spell Bellatrix shoots at him, and will dive out of the way just in the nick of time.

The final battle. Everyone is there. Sirius somehow ends up herding a group of Slytherins. They all stare at him and he at them, across a centuries-old divide Voldemort has only succeeded in deepening. Then he remembers the hexes. Harry’s locket, now tucked under Sirius’ shirt because Harry’s friends are with him in this battle but most of Sirius’ are dead. The moment that happiness potion saved Remus’ life, his very soul. Snape’s final words to Harry, finally seen not as mockery but real true advice. What Harry said Voldemort said–his first words in his new form. They are kids, and they are sharing the same kind of hurt he once wouldn’t admit to, watching his mother burn his name off the family tree. “When we go in there, it’s going to be hell,” he tells the Slytherins. “Some of you are probably going to die. I might go down too, and if I do I want your best curser in the front. But I want you all to remember one thing. There are no spares.”  Later retellings of the battle never fail to mention the moment a group of angry, screaming teens burst into the Great Hall, wearing their green and silver as the badge of honor it should be, shouting NO SPARES, NO SPARES at the tops of their voices in between hexes and curses and the occasional physical punch. When Hermione is present, she always interrupts the storyteller to be sure everyone knows about the moment Blaise Zabini shoved her to the floor, dropped on top of her, fired off three curses in rapid succession and said “stay alive, Granger, we need you” before jumping back to his feet and vanishing into the melee–how, for all anyone knows, those may have been his last words, and she will not let his sacrifice go unnoted. 

The aftermath. Malfoy holds out a hand to Sirius, badly injured on the floor. Sirius asks how Malfoy is willing to trust him. Malfoy nods at his chest. “You’ve got my godfather’s locket,” he says, and when Sirius and Harry finally speak after the battle Harry gives his full agreement to the very first thing out of  Sirius’ mouth. They give the locket to Malfoy. Sirius grits his teeth and closes his eyes and opens them and says “He probably saved my life, giving Harry that.” He doesn’t say thank you. Malfoy hears it anyway. 

The school reopens under a single banner: the four Houses united. The House rivalry is reduced to just that–a competition in fun–with those deep divides slowly healing to scars, and eventually away to nothing at all.

Imagine it.
When we stand, we stand united as one

And then there would be no hope for any uprising of evil, no users of the dark arts would dare to attack. There would be no neglected Slytherins turning to a darker cause. The unity Cassius Warrington’s death caused would come to save the world, time and time again, as would-be-Voldemorts find no followers. No children will ever have to fight their parents, or family. There would always be peace. 

oh christ somebody added to it and now i’m a soggy emotional wreck

I’m crying because this is what slytherins should have been and truly are

This is beautifully written and I wish it was in the books xx


This is such a fantastic read. A Slytherin triwizard champion sounds awesome.  

Best Harry Potter post

                    
                
            

            
            
        

    

    

        
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