Princess Bride themed restaurant. Waiters say “as you wish” after taking your order.

Finish the Fezzik in an hour, your meal is free.

Come in a wheelbarrow, your meal is 10% off.

Every so often the hostess will say “bye bye boys, have fun storming the castle!” as people are leaving.

Miracle Max’s Cure for the Mostly Dead is on the menu and its a giant chocolate cakeball.

The servers will sometimes switch your wines after distracting you.

They sell Anybody Want a Peanut Brittle at the door.

“There are a shortage of perfect chicken breasts in the world. Twould be a pity not to order these.”

“Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. I’ll be your server. Prepare to dine.”

Instead of “large,” you get an item of unusual size.

People on their anniversary get to listen to a recitation of the mawidge speech.

The kitchen door says “Brute Squad.”

Oddly specific things my D&D players are no longer allowed to do

21. Buy any amount of centipedes exceeding 0.

I’m taking notes.

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.

ATTENTION PEOPLE WITH ONLINE FRIENDS AND/OR IN LDR’S

There’s this kick ass site called Synaptop. And it’s perrrrfect for a person like you! Wanna know why???

The site is here. I have date night with my boyfriend in PA here all the time and it’s amazing. Check it outttttt.

WELL I know what I am going to look into tonight.

puNCHES U I TOLD YOU TO GET THIS AGES AGO GOD

Annie!  Ab!  Dorki!  Nis!   Ran! 

Hmmm…….I think I will check it out. 

being a cishet looks boring why do people do that

Idk maybe bc sexuality/gender isnt based on how cool or interesting an individual wants to look

yeah but why be boring when u can be awesome and not cishet

yeah but why treat lgbt+ identities like some trendy fashion accessory that ppl can just slap on to look cool when u could not act like a complete idiot

2008 was a better time…

That one time the whole nation got rickrolled but no one was mad about it bless

Happy birthday Gene Wilder (6/11/33)!

#did seeing this on your dashboard scare the hell out of anyone else

Oh, trust me, it did.

Yall almost gave me a fucking heart attack after today

Replace “bullies” with “the government”

Or police.

Same thing. Without government laws, LEOs are just normal thugs. The police are government, and vice versa.

Smash the state.

Is there an appropriate Ron Swanson gif for justifying police brutality against fourteen year old, bikini clad, girls?

“ugh pixels are so ugly”

“I turn dithering on so it doesn’t look so choppy”

“attention to art didn’t go into videogames until 3D became the norm”

I start to get worked up, but I gotta calm down and remember “Mountains’re nice.”

Workout clothing

This is a Tarahumara man. A tribe of people in the desolate Chihuahua desert. They’re known for running over 50 miles, non-stop made out of sandals fashioned form discarded tires.

I’ve been a long distance runner for 12 years and I’m a student of economics. I run over 2,000 mile per year. I’ve bought one pair of shoes since 2013. I’ve put over 5,000 miles into one pair of shoes. I can run a miles in 4:38. I can run a 5k well under 17 minutes. I work a minimum wage job.

You’re looking at the top of the line running shoes for the newest model year. You can get quality shoes for $20 anywhere else, or be truly determined and run with the Tarahumara, wearing sandals made from tires, evading drug cartels in 100+ degree heat. 

To even begin to tell me that capitalism is the reason people can’t get fit when I’ve broken both legs, my back, and still get out and run despite nerve damage boggles my mind.

I’m not a big runner, but I have a pair of cheap tennis shoes (about 20 dollars) that I’ve used for all my exercise and yard work and they’ve lasted me for years and have the most amazing arch support that I’ve ever had the pleasure of stepping on.

The only reason I had the option to choose between a pair of 20 dollar shoes and a pair of 120 dollar shoes is because capitalism gives me that option. It provides high quality choice, for lowers prices, while giving many different options to fit every persons wants.

>Capitalism at it’s best

WAAAAH I CAN’T AFFORD SOMETHING THAT OTHER PEOPLE CAN, THEREFORE CAPITALISM IS EVIL. 

These people are a disease. No, a plague. 

Why is everyone so bent on saying you can’t be racist to white people?

While it may not be as severe, it’s still racism and it’s still something that needs to be fixed. Why say prejudice against a race is racism against your chosen race while, at the same time, saying prejudice against another race is not racism - just because it doesn’t happen as often?

Any race can experience racism, and ignoring or dismissing it isn’t going to change anything - just make it worse.

Racism is a finite resource, apparently.

look at all the insults from the commie.

When I was a sophomore in high school, near the end of the year the band went on a trip up to the mountains and on the last day that we were there this freshman took my case of CDs and wouldn’t give them back. It was a case with probably 50+ CDs in it.

He said that I had stolen his gummy worms. I guess they disappeared and for some reason he blamed me. I dunno. But I guess he thought he would get back at me supposedly stealing a 98 cent bag of candy by stealing hundreds of dollars worth of CDs from me?

Anyways, they were missing, I asked if anybody had seen them and he told me he had them and wasn’t going to give them back and accused me of stealing the candy/said that was why he took them.

So I asked again. He said no. I tried to physically take them from him and he resisted.

So we end up on the floor wrestling over the CD case and a bunch of seniors show up and pull us apart. They ask what’s going on and we explain. They then tell him to give the CDs back to me and he says no. So there’s some more arguing. He won’t give them back. Then when I finally get them back he says something to me. I forget what but he was talking shit and I punched him in the face and he fell on the floor. He starts crying and his nose starts bleeding all over the place.

About a week later I got expelled from that high school.

It was a mess. I regret nothing, though. If you’re gonna pull some shit like that, you better be able to back your shit up because, while I’m a pretty calm person and I really try my best to avoid conflict, I will not let you walk over me. I’ll fuck you up or get my ass kicked trying.

Man I’m so fucking glad I punched that little rat fuck in his fat face.

This is such a great story. I’m in awe. I never could stand up for myself. Even when I got punched in the arm or kicked or, alternatively, had shit stolen from me.