#what if Wednesday

[safrona-shadowsun]

What if Wednesday: One day the Courier shows up with her eyes bandaged/blindfolded, with an Eye of Kilrogg at her side to grant her sight. This status quo remains for about 2 weeks, then she is back to normal. What happened to her? Would she tell anyone if some cared enough to ask? Would she tell the truth, or lie?

The price of power often came at sacrifice. 

It was a law of fel magic that Safrona initially did not think could apply to such a basic evocation as the Eye. It went underused, as she often relied instead on the phased figure of her succubus to scout ahead if needed. But as Safrona decided to evolve her abilities in summoning, it only seemed sensible to strengthen the Eye and push this trivial connection to the next plateau as well. 

The dispractice and blind arrogance cost the Warlock senses she did not know how to function without. The punishment came without pain, only the dread feeling of the ritualistic channel fizzling and failing her. The fiery thread of magic dying at her fingertips was the last sight her eyes were granted.

Day 1, Week 1:

A shriek echoed in the chambers below the Sojourn, more outrage than fear, though the sound was laced with its aura of panic. She heard the shadows waft into the chamber, sensing her beloved Soulsinger - even in her blindness she reached in the direction of his puzzled voice, needing the solid sanctum of his arms in that moment more than ever. But she would not cry. She would not dare mark this failure with tears.

Day 3, Week 1:

Isolation. Safrona did not leave the altar chamber stinking of her failure, did not drink, did not eat. She sunk into her own outrage, fuming with this pitiful blindness, this vulnerability. No one could see her this way, Courier or no. The smallest summon, the most unused spell in her arsenal, the Eye of Gul'dan had been nothing to her until now. Now it had effectively become her curse. This stupid, useless, novice spell. And it had taken her sight! Fuming at every failed attempt to reconnect to the Eye and take her sight back, even the First gave the irate Harvester her space.

Day 6, Week 1:

Paranoia gripped her as blind sight began to shift into abyssal darkness, shadows winding, writhing. The desire and desperation to see was answered in a way, shadowed vision opening upon nothing she recognized, faces foreign to her, blurred expanses. Heavy words in the Forgotten Tongue tried to wrap around her mind, causing her eye sockets to ache, head throbbing. A giant eye opened in the ceiling of the chamber, staring directly onto herself, pupil swirling. Vertigo and the pounding migraine was a vicious combination through her tender flesh, urging her to vomit. The eye dissolved from the ceiling.

Day 8, Week 2:

She finally began to connect through the Eye in brief flares of hazy vision, but she had not yet been able to maintain it. Still, she imprisoned herself to the chambers, knowing that her blindness could be a handicap as well as a threat. Power evolved in unforseen ways, and she would not give up until this too was conquered. It had not been a curse, or a punishment, her blindness. It was a test, she came to realize, and there were flares of progress. 

Day 11, Week 2: 

She felt her Soulsinger's eyes boring into her as she attempted to remain concentrated on the floor of the chamber. She bothered with a bath upstairs once, but her neglect of food and drink was obvious. "If ya don' want ta' eat, don'." His voice seemed to throw across the chamber around her, omnipresent. "When ya body grows weaker an' the daemons sense it, start taking over ya body, I'll simply end ya and then myself." 

"Stop this grim talk," the warlock muttered, pulling herself up from the cold floor, mildly irritated. Her voice became brittle, thickening with a pretense of emotional fallout she was consistently holding herself up from. "I am supposed to be your Eyes. And I feel I have failed us both." A clear of her throat, and she smoothed her tone to quiet resolve. "But I will rise from this. I must." Safrona offered a hand in the dark for him to take, the blind warlock presenting herself rather than blindly grope for him in the low light. "I'll get some food in me if that sets you off this dark talk. But keep me like your best secret in the Sojourn, my love. No one else needs to see me this way."

Day 12, Week 2: 

Madness took the summoning chamber in Safrona's reaching - her focused channeling did not manifest one floating ocular orb, but many manifestations of void-based eyestalks drowning the chamber in abyssal energy. If allowed to permeate, greater forces of the Dark would breach through. Understanding the threat, Wraafenn was quick to tear into the nearest eye to its mistress, but it was the First's blades that cut through several eye stalks in quick succession. When the whirling noise of the chamber was set to a silence, the abyssal veil enveloping the warlock dissipated, and she took in a gasp of clean air. She felt the wary edge in the First of the Perished, the doubt punctuated by a flick of one of his blades, ready to sever her from the world. "I am me. I am here." Safrona promised, able to track the vague flicker of his silhouette separating from the rest of the darkness - another small sign of progress.   "I can do this. I just. I need a moment." A breathless chuckle. "Or a strong whiskey."

Day 13, Week 2: 

The answer had been at her heels over so many years, she came to understand in an epiphany. And he was here now, nudging at her feet, a tentacled limb pricking her leg for attention. Lowering herself slowly, she let her fingertips guide her in a visual of what her eyes had lost: the length of chintinous scale leading to rough, wiry hair crowning the Felhound's eyeless head. Wraafenn flinched, uncertain of the peculiar touch from its mistress. The demon dog in all its years was unaccustomed to her physicality, only knowing her by voice, by scent, by the dark ties of binding and unnatural hunger. Her fingers gripped one of it's spearing, bone-like horns to steady the demon, she confided words in the base Demonic it understood most.

 "I have no sight, like you now." Her fingers traveled downward with uncharacteristic tenderness to cradle its maw.  "Show me how to be."

A guttural sound of acceptance trilled from the many-toothed maw, though like any canine it was not fully aware of what it's owner meant, only desiring in that moment to serve. Her finger tips pulsed violently at its snout, and with a sudden whimper the Felhound expired, giving up its momentous energy to the warlock. 

A brief sacrifice, the felhunter would reform in the Nether and be called again to her soon. Perhaps with the reward of a large soul shard of a very special hunt.

Day 14, Week 2: 

Elernia was often the demonic sacrifice, most times out of a flare of anger, or spite. But the intentional sacrifice of the Felhound did not go to waste. Where some might have found the felhunter and its kin to be monstrous, understanding the evolution of its function had been a compelling key to manifestation. However basic a creature, Wraafenn was a hunter of extraordinary sense, attuned to soul and the aura of energy. The manifestation of the Eye opened wide for her now when she learned to disconnect from her own inferior senses, and give herself over to the extension. This was the lesson she needed…and with it came void singularity. 

Normal sight returned to Safrona after a day of much needed sleep. The Eye of the Great Dark was still not often a spell Safrona relied on in her day-to-day, but it was an evolution she held pride for, all the same. It was a long trial she divulged to none; it was enough that her Soulsinger had been present through the most harrowing of it. 

Exchanges with other Warlocks for knowledge was of course its own temptation, but for those newer to the Path, the Harvester would only smile enigmatically and offer: "Preparation is everything."

{ Thank you anon for this wild wind of inspiration. Brief reference to @thefirstperished, who helped to contribute to some of the writing. <3

Thank you for reading this, if you do. This was an exhaustive effort from me. }

[spinderella-umbrella]

What if Peter and James had dated at Hogwarts?

Would that be motive enough to give him up and sentence him and his child to death? Would that be enough to betray everyone he called a friend?

I think it could have been. I think love is an incredibly powerful motivator. I think a lover scorned and a capable of great atrocities.

[boombambaby]

#WhatIfWednesday ??

WHAT IF: The events of the movie never happened? If Yzma never tried to kill him, & Kuzco BUILT Kuzcotopia. What if Kuzco NEVER learned his lesson, or found a family?

Snap. “Hellooo, where’s the Emperor’s smoothie?” Silence greets him in reply, and Kuzco heaves an annoyed sigh as he reaches up to push the sunglasses he’s wearing to the top of his head. A quick glance around the room confirms his suspicions, and he slouches a little further against the cushion in his chair while he considers his options. “Lousy servants– what do I pay them for, anyways?” Humidity has his tunic sticking to his skin, and when a hand brushes against it to fan himself with, it comes away wet. Disgusting. With no other choice but to sit there and languish, Kuzco pushes himself up out of the smaller version of his throne built specifically for Kuzcotopia, and takes a moment to stretch before heading in the direction of the open entryway and his outdoor pool. Not only doesn’t he have the drink he requested forever ago, but his fanning-girls are missing AND he has to walk himself down to the pool? Someone’s getting thrown out of a window today, that’s for sure. The walk from his casual audience room to the outer deck of the pool area isn’t exactly long– this much smaller and more laid back summer home was built for ease of access and maximum relaxation, after all. Silk drapes hang artfully from the walls like those in his palace, but instead of the reds and golds of nobility, they’re made in different shades of blues and greens– pairing elegantly with the sand colored stonework the walls are made of, and the gray marble flooring. Overall, the feel is luxurious; a summer retreat fit for a King– or a highly deserving Emperor, in his case– and Kuzco could not have enjoyed his birthday gift to himself more if he tried. . . . Even if the help was lacking. Sunlight streams through the opened windows he saunters past along his walk, and he lowers his sunglasses once more to shield his eyes from the light shining into them. If there was one thing that whiny peasant was right about, it was the direction of the sun and which spot it hits perfectly at the top of this hill. Easily his favorite thing about his summer home is waking up to the sunrise from his bedroom each morning, the large floor to ceiling window built in giving him a perfect view of the sun as it rises above the neighboring hilltops. When the first rays of the sun make it over the ridge, the hills effectively ‘sing’, as the peasant said– and it’s a beautiful representation of his privilege as the Sovereign Ruler of EVERYTHING the sun touches. Sweeping aside the curtain to the outside deck reveals the missing servants he’d been looking for, and Kuzco pointedly clears his throat to get their attention. “Ahem. I’ve been waiting for my smoothie for like, five minutes now. What’s taking you so long?” The servants just about jump out of their skin in their haste to move over and cater to him. He stands for a moment, letting them help him out of his tunic– Kuzco has never exactly been a fan of modesty, why should he be, with a physique as perfect as his?–  and once he’s down to nothing but swim trunks, they usher him over to a lounge chair. A hand is held out in anticipation of the smoothie he's been waiting for, and he clears his throat again when the servant who hands it to him doesn't position the straw at his mouth. Its mango flavored at least, his favorite. And just like that, his sour mood from waiting so long and actually having to walk down here on his own is gone. Idly, he wonders what mornings used to be like for the peasant family who used to live on this hilltop. Did they wake up with the same view of the sunrise? Were they content to just sit here and bask in the glow of the sun, or were there more boring, peasant-y matters to attend to? Oh well. The hill is being put to much better use now. And after some arguments and protests, the displaced villagers finally moved on to find new housing on the neighboring hilltops. Now all that’s left to do is to relax and enjoy the most appreciative, excellent birthday gift he’d ever received. "Happy Birthday, ME."

[peterpettigrewproject]

What if?

We encourage the masses (you) to come up with/suggest a what if prompt, such as:

What if Peter had been devilishly handsome?

Or,

What if Peter had dated James at Hogwarts?

Every What if Wednesday a new what if prompt will be posted to ponder and create with.

This week’s suggested prompts:

You can suggest a “What if” prompt in our asks, through DM’s, or join the server (link in our pinned post).

You would then use the prompt to create content, IE:

- A character study (any creative format): this can be as short as a poem or even just a head canon based on the prompt.

- A drabble: Pretty standard to see 100-500 words for a drabble, but there is technically no maximum WC.

- A dialogue (ie. The kind of short posts you usually see on Tumblr)

- Comic, art, mood board or a video edit.

- Playlist

This activity was created with collaboration in mind- we actively encourage working together and expanding on them where you can. There is no time limit on What if Wednesday prompts.

An example of how collaboration could look:

>Someone creates a dialogue

>>Someone takes the dialogue and makes a drabble

>>>Someone takes the drabble and makes art to accompany it

The more the merrier!

We encourage tagging, at the very least, Peter Pettigrew. Other tags to include to keep track of this content and to help collaborators would be:

#Peter Pettigrew Project

#What if Wednesday

#Take the Tag

If you are collaborating, and you are compounding on someone else’s work, please reblog. You do not need to re-post.

If you would like your work to stand alone but have been inspired by another person's expansion on the original prompt, that is fine, but tag the person that inspired your work- or better yet, link the original post.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Must be a Sugondese joke.

[steelsartcorner]

nobody took my pen away so the hades-crossover-fever continues. i’m ill

others: the dark urge (OC); minthara (bg3), karlach (bg3), shadowheart (bg3), gale (bg3), halsin (bg3), lae'zel (bg3), astarion (bg3), kotallo (horizon)

[mangozic]

michael shelley I would die for you

[bluescalearchivist]

What if Wednesday - What if she was secretly a cat instead of dragon?

Viragosa sat at the front desk, one arm draped across it and the other propped to cradle her face. She watched the library as students and other visitors walked back and forth across the floor, some of them in a hurry and some of them seeming to delay their steps. Perhaps it was some imagined dread miring their speed.

Interesting was the wrong word. But they were present, they were moving, and movement did catch her eye even if it did not incite her to action. Even the little movements caught her eye but didn't necessarily stir her.

"Miss? Excuse me, miss?"

Her gaze rolled to the elf now standing in front of the desk directly in her vision, carrying what appeared to be a relatively heavy stack of books in their hands. That was so many books, so much studying they clearly had ahead of them. Viragosa did not reach out to take any from the elf, and quirked a brow instead.

"I - I was hoping to check these out?" Finally getting the idea, the elf put them down on the desk, and Viragosa leaned off of it to get out the check-out log, and stamp. "I need them for my classes and I was glad to see that you still had them on the shelves. I was so sure someone else was going to get to them first!"

She let them ramble on. She couldn't stop them but she didn't necessarily have to respond, either. Pulling each of the books forward off the stack, one by one, she checked them each over, writing them in the log. Then she turned the log to the still-rambling elf, and tapped where they needed to sign. "Legibly," she tutted, "or printed and then signed."

It wasn't just a signature of course, it carried with it the promise of return; and if they didn't, Viragosa would use the signature to hunt them down. "Thank you," the elf exhaled with relief, "I'll take good care of them!"

Finding herself briefly amused, with the flicker of a smirk on her face, Viragosa found she believed the elf. Indeed. They would take very good care of that study material.

[Thank you, Asharinhun! 💙 Please enjoy this snippy little cat!Vira, hehe.]

[mothman-etd]

I think my favorite culture shook conversation between myself and Joy happened when the first time she (British) was visited me (USA) for longer then a month.

Joy calling me at work in a panic: "WHY ARE THE BOMB SIRENS GOING OFF."

Me: "Oh yeah it's Wednesday."

Joy: "..."

Me: "..."

Joy: "THAT EXPLAINS NOTHING!"

[an-established-butt-dent]

I'm a bald Solas lover I swear!!!!

—> Process video under the cut because of flash warning.

[0vergrowngraveyard]

mangey and werehog/boscage sonic 🫶

[spinderella-umbrella]

Peter did it all for love.

I have this head-canon that Peter was in love with Bellatrix; all consuming, obsessive, love at first sight that took him by the throat from the first time he saw her.

I think 11 year old Peter made a decision then and there, that he would do anything to be in her orbit, and his line of thinking landed him in Gryffindor.

At first, this was in the form of befriending Sirius. This looked like an obsession in itself, with Sirius and by extension, James, because he didn’t have anything in common with either of them, and had no idea how else to ensure they kept him around.

But then Sirius was disinherited, and no longer Bella’s favourite cousin. He turned to Regulus, which ended up being a much better fit. They bonded because at the time, they were both feeling as if they had something to prove and were both disgruntled and disappointed by Sirius’ decisions.

Things were heating up in the war, and when the marauders hadn’t even noticed that Peter and Regulus were friends, Regulus realised that Peter is in the perfect position to be a double agent.

Perhaps they were friends for a while. I think that the war would have separated them, some, which is why when Regulus turned on his master, Peter was none the wiser. Perhaps Regulus knew he couldn’t trust Peter- he was a demon of his making, wasn’t he?

Of course, Peter said yes to being a double agent. Because if he became a Death Eater, he would be closer to Bella. And that’s what it came down to, impressing the Dark Lord, and by extension, Bellatrix.

It wasn’t enough that he had been a successful double agent for years, it wasn’t enough to be on their side. To get Bella to love him, he had to do something big. A grand gesture, if you will. She would surely leave her husband for him if he demonstrated his power and dedication.

He gave up one of the first people he had been able to call a friend. Someone who trusted him enough to be the secret keeper and protect his family. And for all Sirius had done, he had to pay for his crimes. He convinced Sirius not to tell anyone of the change of plan- he already didn’t trust Remus. He was ripe to be framed. And framed he was. Peter led him to a street full of people, and blew it up. For Bella. For Regulus. For the hell of it.

[jen-iii]

I made a Spiderman!Enid AU thread on Twitter so I drew it lmfao

Her name is WolfSpider (duh) and her costume is BLINDING and she owns her own fan blog where she takes her own pictures ala the OG Peter Parker

Wednesday found out her secret identity the literal first day they became roommates and for the longest time didn’t say anything because she found it fascinating how someone so BAD at keeping their identity a secret could still REMAIN a secret.

Later on when the reveal happened (and subsequent confession) Wednesday would help Enid track down whatever the next villains plan was and they become an unstoppable due

[peterpettigrewproject]

What if Wednesday

Welcome to week five, we have some great what if prompts for you this week.

Imagine the change in dynamic!

For more on how to participate in What if Wednesday, see below the line:

Each Wednesday we’ll set out a couple of What if prompts for you to use to create something to post in our initiative to “Take the Tag”.

Highly recommended are the following (but if you decide to write a one shot by all means, go ahead);

- A character study (any creative format): this can be as short as a poem or even just a head canon based on the prompt.

- A drabble: Pretty standard to see 100-500 words for a drabble, but there is technically no maximum WC.

- A dialogue (ie. The kind of short posts you usually see on Tumblr)

- Comic, art, mood board or a video edit.

- Playlist

This activity was created with collaboration in mind- we actively encourage working together and expanding on them where you can. There is no time limit on What if Wednesday prompts. 

An example of how collaboration could look:

>Someone creates a dialogue

>>Someone reblogs the dialogue and makes a drabble

>>>Someone reblogs the drabble and makes art to accompany it

Don’t forget to tag Peter Pettigrew, Peter Pettigrew Project and What if Wednesday.

[meorcie]

wenclair figure skater au ❄

What if we were both professional figure skaters and kissed on the ice?

[pieofdeath]

President Hancock: "We are not going to have any more nukes blowing up. My fellow Americans, we are going to tighten up around here-"

Jacob:

"DAVE."