#rowena crest

[garyquayphotography]

“Rowena Path and Tree, September 2023.”

©2023 Gary L. Quay

Getting ready for Fall with an exploratory mission to Rowena to check on the white oaks. They haven't turned colors yet, but they're close.

Camera, Hasselblad 500CM

Lens: 80mm Zeiss Planar with a yellow filter

Film: Rollei Superpan 200 developed in 510-Pyro

[ivankosovan]

Even though spring is here I will be missing the winter. Been to Montana and Idaho over 15 times in the last 2-3 months the views were breathtaking.

[swittersb]

Columbia R. Gorge from Rowena Crest...

[theodoreangelos]

Falling into a Dream (May 2023), photography by Erwin Buske Wildflowers such as Arrowleaf Balsamroot (Balsamorhiza sagittata) and Lupine (Lupinus) blooming in synch at Rowena Crest in the Columbia River Gorge.

[thatawaydad]

Touring the Columbia Gorge

Find mountain-high waterfalls and a deep river canyon in the Columbia River Gorge in Oregon. Our family did a trip to the Pacific Northwest seeing Seattle, Portland, North Cascades National Park, the Columbia Gorge, and sites in between. This is what we did on our vacation, hope it helps you in planning your trip to this amazing area! We drove from Spokane, Wash., where we stayed the night to…

[elinerlina2]

Rowena Crest, Oregon 🌍

[travelella]

Rowena Crest Viewpoint, Mosier, Oregon, USA

Cameron Stewart

[rabbitcruiser]

Robert Gray commanded the first expedition to sail into the Columbia River on May 11, 1792.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A foe most frightful 1

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. 𝐌𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧. 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐱!𝐋𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐰𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭, 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞.

𝐀𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥, 𝐈 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬! 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞.

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 (𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐏𝐬, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞!)

𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞. 💖

A carriage rattles by as you pull Altun out of its path. The boy is the second youngest in your charge, a rowdy rabble bunching around you with hopping and vibrant chittering. Your siblings, six in all, hang off of your skirts as you carry a basket in one arm and Adela on your other hip. Marcella, nine-years old and quiet walks ahead of you, shoulders low as she trods grimly towards the sweltering horizon.

Beyond, the village awaits you. You are to barter at the market for some wool and grain, and several other things your mother listed as wanted but not required. She also warned you not to stay too long even if the sun may linger.

As you press on, the early summer beating down on your swarm, Rowena, only just three, tugs on your dress and whines. You tell Sidney, the second eldest to you, to take your skin and give her some water. Milo, Marcella’s twin, asks for a drink too.

The noise of horse hooves hammers in the distance, an unusually fleet pace that bears down on the party of the children. You move further onto the grass, withered yellow patches burnt where the sunlight beams most hotly. Your siblings sidle along with you, Milo craning to see the approaching cacophony.

A train of horses dressed in livery approaches. You glance over your shoulders as the children are distracted and stop in their tracks to watch. You turn as Adela’s eyes round at the jostling noblemen in their saddles. How odd, you don’t know you’ve ever seen Duke Hansen's men outside the fair days.

The group is headed by two young pages, their haircut short in the current style, not shanky or scraggly like the men and boys on the farm. Then older men in dyed vests, their sleeves bloused in a most fashionable way. At the centre is a man sat high on a warhorse, its limbs and rump nearly twice as wide as the rest. 

The man’s silver hair shines in the summer hue, the sides of his head shorn close in a warrior’s cut, and a trim of hair across his lip. His blue eyes are dark even in the bright morning and he wears an overcoat with a high-collar unsuited to the season. On his breast is the Duke’s crest, a dragon with its tail curve in a perfect arch around its body.

As you try to quiet your siblings and keep them from wandering underfoot, your gaze meets that of the party’s centerpiece; the man with the silver hair and stony jaw. You almost gasp, quickly retracting your gawking eyes. It isn’t proper to stare at a man of his stature.

Adela covers her ears as the clomping of hooves grows discordant. She starts to whine and you hug her closer in an effort to calm her. The men do not slow, they do not stop, as they barrel by upon a mission. You stare after the horse tails, another four men at the rear.

Milo lets out a noise of awe and the children begin to chatter about the knights and their pages. You smile to humour them but your curiosity is much more sober. Your parents always warn to be weary of the rich.

The basket grows heavy so you hand Adela to Marcella as you come across the plateau right before the village. You cross the wooden bridge as the furor of the market roils in the air. You pass the stables near the cobbler's stead and enter the square where booths are set up with wares as sellers holler about their goods.

The crowd clusters to one side as marketgoers are distracted from their bartering by the men striding along the stalls. The nobles in their coloured cloth peruse the lengths of woven wool and the handcrafted figurines. Milo stares and you tug on his sleeve. 

“Stay close,” you bid your sibling, “we need eggs and wool, yes?”

“I want to see his sword!” Milo proclaims and Altun agrees giddily. Before they can run off, Sidney herds them back to you.

“Don't! They are knights,” she hisses as she holds them by the wrists.

“Row,” Marcella calls as the little girl dawdles across the dirt. The elder sibling can do little as she holds the youngest in her arms.

“Rowena,” you cry out and follow her, hanging the basket from your arm as you give chase. 

Before you can reach her, she is amidst the men, barely able to escape their treads. You bend and scoop her up, an arm hooked around her as she wriggles and fusses. She shrieks in your ear as you try to escape unnoticed.

You turn to flee but stumble back as a figure blocks your path. The man with the soldier's hair and the badge sewn across his chest. You gulp and your eyes flit past him to the rest of your clan, huddled together as they watch agape.

“Sir,” you keep your chin down, “apologies, I did not mean to impede–”

“That would be ‘your grace’,” he corrects you, “though I can assume you don't oft entertain dukes. Likely the farmers in their hay by the looks of your brood.”

“P-pardon, your grace,” you eke out as Rowena continues to squirm and you fight to keep your hold on her.

“Yes, pardon, run along before that thing should dribble onto my coat,” he sneers.

You wince and bend your knees slightly, trying to curtsy but are unused to the gesture. You clumsily sidle past him and go back to your brothers and sisters. You shove Rowena at Milo and wiggle your nose. It isn't the man's words so much as his assumptions that sting.

“Come,” you bid the children and point them to the stall with a pen of hens clucking around it, “we will fetch some eggs.”

Sidney steps up next to you as the others follow behind, “was that knight very mad?”

“Duke,” you swallow dryly, “that is the duke and he was not very kind, no.”

“Duke…I thought…”

“Perhaps he is retired from the battlefield, or there is no war to be fought,” you shrug, “it hardly matters, sister, let us stay clear of him.”

“That is what Jeremy says,” she counters, “his brother lost a hand when a hunting dog went missing.”

“Oh my,” you murmur.

“Particularly cruel with how little the duke is in house to seek game,” she shakes her head.

“Yes, well, we shouldn't trouble him or ourselves,” you gird, “mother wants a wooden spoon if we can have one at a good bargain.”

🏰

You have your eggs, your wool, the wooden spoon, and even some goat cheese to take home to your mother. Rowena sleeps in Sidney's arms as Adela snores in yours. Marcella and Milo carry the basket between them, and Altun clings to your skirt as he drags his feet. It's a far walk back to your family's plot but it must be done before night falls.

As you set off, the sun begins its slow descent. The village is still in its throes as those more local continue their barter and some begin to sink into their cups. Your back aches and your soles throb. It's not a pain you haven't bore before. It is much better a journey to town than a day in the field.

Further down the road, you stop to sit for a while. The summer has the days stretching longer. You share a truncheon of bread among you, even the children saying little as they chew. Up again, you take Rowena and let her have the lighter toddler for the last leg of the trip. As you begin anew, hooves once more pound the ground, shaking it like thunder as they approach.

You step into the divet of grass that runs parallel to the beaten road. It is no farmer's cart but the nobles upon their return to the castle.

As they pass, a soft tomato splatters across Sidney and Adela, tossed by the riding men. She cries out as Adela wakes and begins to sob. You hush them as the horses trot unbothered ahead of you. You stop once more, this time to help your sisters get clean. A sickly red stain remains on Sidney's wool dress and Adela's hair is flecked with gooey seeds.

"That was mean," Marcella pouts.

"Be happy you were not the one hit," Sidney snaps then turns on you, "you did not lie, sister, when you said they were unkind."

"Perhaps they didn't see us," you murmur, "no matter being upset. We have some way to go."

"Ugh, you are too meek," Sidney remands, "if they'd let their horses trod over us, you'd say it was our fault."

"Not at all, sister, but what can we do? The duke owns father's plot, he pays for the land we till and the scythe, he makes sure we have what little we do."

"Oh, valiant knight," she drawls dryly.

"And he's got a big sword!" Altun proclaims.

"That too," you tilt your head at Sidney, giving your brother's innocent fascination another gleam of meaning.

Sidney rolls her eyes and hitches Adela higher, turning down the road ahead of you. You let her lead as the twins pick the basket up again and you bring up the rear with Altun and Rowena. The boy is the only one with the energy to bounce with his steps.

You hear hooves again but not from behind you. It is rather late for any to be coming to market just then. You look ahead and see two horses. You squint as your siblings' heads perk up in curiosity. It is the nobles, not all of them, only two. A page and the silver-haired duke, lazily cantering in your direction.

You put your head down and quiet the others, bidding them to keep along. There's whispers and mutters but they listen. The day stretches on like the road, winding and tiring.

“Aye,” the holler frightens you as the horse kicks up dust not far away, “you, boy!”

The page points at Milo who stops and nearly overturns the basket. You flutter your lashes and peer between the nine-year old and the man on his steed. Behind him, the duke slows on the speckled gray war beast.

“Think you're clever, eh?” The page accuses as he draws his horse to a halt. “Small as you are, that voice is like a squawk.”

You step up and put a hand on Milo's shoulder, “respectfully, sir, my brother did not speak of your passing.”

“Aye, aye, we heard. Our men do have keen ears. We heard the little imp say it,” the page continues anon. “So say it again, boy, let the duke hear it.”

“I… I didn't…” Milo stutters and look up at you, squeaking your name, “sister, I swear it, I didnt–”

“It is the duke who asks,” the page insists, “so confess.”

Milo shakes and sniffles, his sobs breaking through as he chokes. You put yourself in front of him protectively. You know even if he had spoken, it could never be anything wrong.

“We all heard as well and he said nothing, sir,” you stare at the horse's snout, not brazen enough to look at him straight. 

“You are defiant, woman,” the duke speaks at last, “you speak in the place of men. The boy must face his own words.”

You frown and peer over towards the tall warhorse. What game is this?

“What was it the boy said?” The duke asks, “Llewellyn has a sharp ear.”

You watch the duke's gloved hands, folded calmly around the reins as he sits slackly in his saddle.

“Bastard…” the page hisses sinisterly.

“No!” Milo exclaims, “I wouldn't… I do not know that word.”

“We are only peasants, honest,” you plead as Marcella begins to tremble and Rowena wakes in your arms. Sidney coos at Adela as she rouses at the voices. “Please, your grace, sir, we would swear it on the lord–” 

“Then the lord would have you a liar,” the duke insists, “Llew,” he flicks his fingers brusquely.

The page swings himself from his horse and his boots send up a cloud of dry dirt. He comes towards you and Milo. You know you should not but you try to obscure him from reaching your brother. The man gives you a harsh shove and you stagger, barely keeping from dropping your sister. 

You whimper and apologise to Rowena. You put her on her feet and turn back as the page grabs Milo's arm, jerking him so that he drops the basket and Marcella does the same as she tries to smother her bawling. You rush forward and clasp onto your brother's elbow.

“Please, sir, do not hurt my brother–”

“You are petulant,” the page faces you and reaches to his belt where a danger is sheathed, “a woman like you would fare better without her impetuous tongue.”

“He's done nothing–”

“Carry on on your defiance and I shall take the younger too,” the duke declares.

Your breath catches at the threat, the malice that tinges his voice. Your eyes snap up and meet his, forgetting yourself as you find him smirking. Just as quickly you tear your gaze away.

“Where do you mean to take him?” You plea.

“I do not answer to commoners,” the duke snorts, “but he looks fit enough to dump my pot.”

Your lips part as you're left speechless and helpless. You look at the others, Sidney hugging a wailing Adela, Marcella hugging Altun, and Rowena babbling wetly as she grabs at your dress. Milo quavers as he's caught between you and the page.

“Sister don't let them take me, please,” he whines.

“I–”

“We take you, boy, or leave you here holding your innards,” the page barks and cackles.

“Milo…” you croak, “I don't… I don't know what to do…”

“I'll go. I said it.” Sidney steps forward, “I sound much like a young boy, don't I?”

The duke guffaws, “all of them liars.”

“It was me,” your sister insists.

“Enough. You will surrender the boy or you will all face the king's justice,” the duke puts his hand to the pommel of his sword.

You drop your head as Milo trembles violently in his terror. You let your hand fall too and utter a hollow apology. You can only hope the duke does not harm him much before you can fetch your parents.

[flyingiseasy-landingnotsomuch]

Rowena Crest at the Columbia River Gorge / May 2022

[ayemkew]

So I'm just joining the lovely tumblr HP fandom from AO3, and I'm hoping to gauge interest in an Age of Sail/Pirates AU! I've started plotting and written a few short scenes for this fic, which will be longform and mostly gen (with a few canon pairings featuring). Marauders and Auror gang will be the main POV characters, with other POVs making appearances here and there. But I'm not well-read outside my usual pairings! Has this been done to death already? Am I missing out on pirate shenanigan fics?

Who am I kidding, I'm writing this anyway. Here's an excerpt, see you soooooon

-

The waters were calm under vivid magenta skies.

If Tonks had learned anything from her years at sea with the Ministry service, it was not to trust Muggle superstitions about harbingers of good weather. The ocean was a fickle thing.

The magenta was quite nice, though, and worth trying out.

It was just a moment later, with her nose scrunched up and her hair shifting from acid green to deepest pink, that something on the horizon caught her eye.

She gripped the wooden railing with one hand, fumbling inside her scarlet Auror’s coat with the other. Once the telescope was in her grasp, she aimed it across the water and peered at the offending object with a frown.

A smooth-sailing brig ambled along the horizon, her white sails set aglow by the radiant pink of the setting sun. From the stern staff, blowing gently in the patient evening breeze, a flag of crimson and gold was stitched with strange, unfamiliar designs.

“Captain!” Tonks called back to the quarterdeck, where her commander was stationed at the wheel. “A ship, on the larboard side.”

The step-thump, step-thump of Captain Moody’s approach echoed over the noise of Dawlish up on the quarterdeck, scrambling to see what Tonks had caught sight of before him.

“Bearing?” grunted Moody as he drew level with Tonks and drew his own telescope.

“Two points abaft the beam, sir. I don’t recognize their colours.”

“Hm.” Moody’s scarred lips pursed. “Whatever that daft flag is, it doesn’t look like any Muggle ensign I’ve seen.”

He switched the telescope from his regular left eye to the swiveling electric blue one, metal touching upon glass with a disconcerting clink. Tonks had always wondered how well the eye’s penetrating abilities functioned through the lenses and mirror of a telescope, but Moody had never given her a straight answer.

“Not a Death Eater flag either, though,” she said, peering through her own scope again at the strange ensign. It looked handmade, and overly complicated in design, like a futzy crest of arms overpopulated with creatures of some kind. Dogs, maybe, and…were those antlers?

“Their heading is the same as ours,” Tonks added. “North-east toward Founder Isle.”

“Porting in Rowena,” said Moody.

“Maybe with prizes in their chests,” said Tonks, nodding.

Moody snapped his telescope shut with a frown. “Not without running them past us. Admiral Scrimgeour’ll have a bloody fit if he sees any more pirate booty smuggled through our port.” He stomped toward the hatch that led down to the lower decks. It was habitual for him, whenever they encountered a new ship, to retreat to his great cabin so he could inspect his foe glass and at least one sneakoscope.

“Dawlish!” he cried, already halfway down the ladder. “Hail the vessel a-larboard. Tonks, set course to intercept.”

“If they make a run for it?” asked Tonks.

Moody paused, gnarled hands just visible around the edges of the ladder, and his face twisted into a frightening half-smile as he looked up at her.

“Then we’ll bloody well pursue them, won’t we?”

[garyquayphotography]

“Autumn in Rowena, Orgeon, November 2024.”

©2024 Gary L. Quay

Fall colors in the shadow of Rowena Crest in Oregon.

This is quite possibly an old wagon road. Note the “cut” in the center of the image.

Camera: Hasselblad 500CM

Lens; 40mm Zeiss Distagon

Media: CFV 100C Digital Back

[ivankosovan]

The Dalles. Expired film can be a risk. Capturing over 4 rolls of expired film from the 90's that I got for free. There were a lot of duds but I have to admit some of the shots turned out okay! Had to share this set since I like the look.

[sleepdeprivedstoat]

Hogwarts Houses

Alright, so we’ll all know the basics of a Hogwarts house name. But what do they really mean? Well let’s go into a long and probably useless post about it!

Slytherin, sounds like “slitherin’” 

Ahh, clever wordplay, Salazar. Of course, a snake slithers. What does it mean, though? That Slytherins are cunning and clever, even when it comes to a terrible pun.

Gryffindor, sounds like “Griffin door.”

Well, the name takes from a very noble creature, the half lion half eagle. And for their crest, they chose the one that represents bravery and nobility, the “kings,” if you will, the Lion. 

The fierce kings of the jungle,(even though they live in the savannah???) the heroes of the animal kingdom. Subtle, Godric. Real subtle.

Ravenclaw (I think you can figure this one out)

Their name is simple, the Raven is meant to represent wit and cleverness. But what about the eagle house crest? Well, remember how I said the Griffin’s other half was an eagle?

Yeah.

Yeah Rowena stole it from Gryffindor.

She wanted something to show that Ravenclaws aren’t just smart, they’re brave too. So what do they do? They take an animal from the brave house.

And Hufflepuff. The one everyone is confused by.

Now, do you remember the story the three little pigs? Specifically the line, “I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down!”

Hufflepuff

Huff and puff

Y’all, Hufflepuff is meant to resemble a wolf.

And not only that, but they have a badger on their house crest! Two of the most dangerous predators, (a badger being the most dangerous) on the nice house??

Well, if we’ve learned anything from Cedric, it’s that Hufflepuff can be brave too. And I think Helga wanted to show that. Hufflepuff, in the outside, is nice and kind and cinnamon rolls.

But on the inside? They’re fierce and brave like a Gryffindor.

Slytherins can be stupid jokesters.

Gryffindors can be self-centered.

Ravenclaws can be brave.

Hufflepuffs can be fierce.

And these aren’t theories. They’re not even based off the characters in the story, but by something so simple as the house names and crests. 

But if we’ve learned anything from Harry Potter,

It’s that your house does not define you.

[belokhvostikova]

Ooh for the record as well, I bet Eddie would want to be Slytherin so bad because the crest is ' very metal' with the snake and everything, and their common room is in the dungeon, and he'd be sat having a full on whine to the sorting hat because it's trying to convince him he's actually either a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. And then he remembers that Ravenclaw's are pretty eccentric sometimes and that Rowena and Helena's backstory is pretty intriguing, and Sybil Trelawney, probably one of his favourite teachers is also a ravenclaw.

I've thought about this a bit too much.

If one thing's for certain, Eddie Munson is not a Slytherin despite his insistent efforts to claim so, lol 😭

I was dead set on Eddie being a Hufflepuff (because, I mean, come on, it's so obvious) but he vehemently refuses to accept that. Modern!Eddie takes the "Which Harry Potter House Are You" quiz and fucking seethes when Hufflepuff comes up. You're wondering what's so wrong with being a Hufflepuff, you think it's cute, and he just whines "It doesn't look cool like Slytherin does!"

Him jumping onto being a Ravenclaw would be the next best option for Eddie, because he finds out they're stereotypically the smartest house, and goes "Oh, yeah, that's totally me, psh!" And you're just like "Why, because you're weird?" And he just deadpans you. (I love my weird Ravenclaws, I'm a weird Ravenclaw 😌)

Side note: Someone brought up the fact that there's a chance he could even be Gryffindor, because he proved to be brave at the end of season four, which is such a fun thing to think about!

But I stand clear, Eddie Munson is a Hufflepuff in my books, despite his best efforts to claim otherwise.

P.S, I fucking love Sybill Trelawney.

[haedoji]

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