for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

Of course the guards were going to the city. Where else would they take Fiyero? It was apparenly too much to ask thay they would take him somewhere Glinda or an angry mob wouldn't be. And she had turned her beloved into something that could burned or torn apart... unless she got to them first. No! She couldn't think like that, she couldn't just let the anxiety or the wickedness win so easily, especially when someone was offering to help her endevor to get him back. She needed the help.

She had to get a grip. She took a long and steady breath. 

"I would welcome the assitance, thank you-" 

She tried to muster a personable smile as she spoke, only failing slightly. It was a genuine relief for someone to just offer her help and maybe with someone with her she could keep her mind and temper at bay. She did note his careful wording when introducing himself, and she was tempted to do the same. Then again, surely he had to know who she was? Unless he wasn't from Oz at all.

She considered this, if he didn't know her face which was the most likely scenario as he wasn't afraid of her, then he couldn't be from Oz. It would make a good amount of sense as she had never heard of other living scarcrows in Oz to begin with. And if he didnt know her, she should try to welcome that. It could be something of a clean slate.

Or this was all somehow an extremely elaborate trap for her and she was playing right into it.

Either way, she was approaching very little to loose again. 

"-I'm called Elphaba." 

She suddenly wondered when was the last time she had introduced herself. It took her a moment to pick it out. It had been that fateful day in the Emerald city, the day it all went wrong. 

She shook off the odd thought and jestured to the direction of the the city, "They would have taken him back to the road and would follow it back to the city. They also likely have horses so if we have even a prayer of catching them then we need to get moving."

She looked back to the Scarecrow, "After you."

•°•°| Continuation of the thread with @for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked here |•°•°

•°•°•°•

"Oh, well..." He began, turning to look over the edge of the ditch.

Had he seen where they'd taken this Fiyero? It had all happened within seconds, and he'd fallen by the time they were dragging the other scarecrow away.

He raised a padded hand, rubbing his left temple as he racked his brain, desperately trying to remember what he'd seen. Going as far as pushing one of the nails deeper into his brain, for surely the point will help him pinpoint the memory.

"They came from the east." He finally said, gesturing in the direction they had come from, "Towards the Emerald City, I believe. It appeared they wished to take him back in that direction."

Now he knew, giving this information could be dangerous. He did not know this women, nor did he know this other scarecrow. They had called him a traitor. For all he knew, of them, and this world, they were dangerous and he was helping them.

And so, he also knew, the offer he was about to make could very well be foolish.

But this woman's reaction. The broken look in her eyes, the desperation. The pause when he told her this other scarecrow had been taken, she had looked so afraid, so defeated and...something else he couldn't quite pinpoint at this moment.

She loved this, Fiyero. How Scarecrow didn't quite know, though he had a guess.

Besides, he had his own mission on the way to the Emerald City...his offer shouldn't cause too much harm, now, should it?

It would, he knew that well. He knew it would be getting him into matters he did not know, dangerous matters. But with the look on her face, he couldn't help it.

"I could come with you in search for him." He offered, finally, "I am on the way to the Emerald City myself, and as I was last to see him...well, I'm sure they couldn't have gotten far."

Now, he was being rude. He seemed to realized, he was offering to join this woman on her trip, and hers on his, and he hadn't even introduced himself yet.

"Pardon me, ma'am." He went on, offering her another smile, "It seems the situation of our meeting, as grateful for it as I am, has resulted in me being quite rude in lacking a proper introduction."

He took off his hat, suddenly bending dramatically low in a proper bow. Bending lower then any meat person could without pain. He straightened, gesturing towards himself.

"Please call me Scarecrow." He told her with that gesture, soon placing the hat on his head again.

He had lived in the fae land of Oz long enough to realize the dangers of having a name. So he'd never given himself a proper one, preferring his title. Even then, he was sure to word his introductions carefully.

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

Detective Comics #1100 - "Lost & Found" (2025)

written by Tom Taylor art by Mikel Janin

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

'No,' was all she could think, or maybe she had gasped out the word, she wasnt sure. Her mind was too consumed by the single word. 'No, no, no!"

Elphaba's heart dropped to her stomach and if the scarecrow before her had contiued speaking after the words, 'emerald guards, ' she didn't notice or hear. Her ears were ringing and she couldn't breathe, just like that, their plans up in smoke in an instant. She could feel her magic trying to rear it head, like a rumbling storm inside her chest or a band about to snap. It was anger at the world and fear, so much fear. Fear of what they would do to him, fear of the betrayl Glinda would surely feel, but above all that this would never end now. 

The last time she had been so afraid and angry was when Fiyero had nearly been killed after being caputured. But then she had the Grimmerie, which she had given to Glinda. Not knowing if her love was dead or alive she had gone off the deep end so to speak. She couldn't turn into that version of herself again, she didn't want to be that way again.

That being said-

The entire point of faking her death was to remove the wicked witch persona from Oz for good, with the intense hope that with that move Glinda would be able to start to do good. That the land and its people would start to heal. The whole plan hinged on her and Fiyero staying 'dead'.

She swallowed hard.

"All right," she was shaking. When had she started shaking? She took a trembling breath. "Which way did they go? Did you see?" 

On top of her most concerning dilema was the fact she was talking to another scarecrow, one that was distinctly not her handiwork. The thought nagged at the very back of her mind. If she hadn't made this scarecrow, then where had he come from?

| Closed Starter for @for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked |

| Muse: Scarecrow |

•°•°•°•°•°•

Glinda had warned him, it was highly possible, traveling to another version of his world, he could meet his counterpart. Another Scarecrow, a mirror of himself, but altered. Different. Perhaps in appearance, perhaps in personality, perhaps in his last.

Scarecrow had known this. He'd even found the possibility intriguing. If it weren't for the mission he'd been sent on, he'd have wanted more time to study these other worlds, the many different reflections of his. Some altered slightly, some altered so much they were barely comparable.

So he'd known, it was a possibility, to meet himself.

He just hadn't expected it to take three minutes since arriving.

He had, quite literally crash landed into the world. Nothing that couldn't be dealt with, he simply had needed a few minutes to regain himself. Rearrange and soften out the lumps created in his straw stuffed body.

And this, is what he had been doing, when he'd heard him.

A familiar crunch of straw. A sound he heard so often as it followed his every movement, he barely gave it thought, if ever. But it had been when he'd heard that familiar sound, from a few feet away.

He froze in his movements of tending to himself. Careful, not to make a sound of his own as he listened. Painted eyes examining the nearby forest for what had made the so familiar sound.

It was then he saw him. Careful as he moved through the woods, attempting, desperately not to make a sound but being damned by the very straw that created his very being, a Scarecrow.

Like him.

In green, for some reason, rather then his blue clothing that represented the Munchkin country he'd been made in. His face wasn't painted, either. No, the sack creating him had been altered, there was a mouth cut, even eyes made of what Scarecrow could only assume was glass of some sort.

There wasn't much time, for Scarecrow's lovely brains to spend wondering on this, strange version of himself. For the once the other saw him, a look of horror seemed to almost morph from his features.

"Good evening." Scarecrow quickly began, hoping to calm the stranger, for he had misinterpreted the fear on the other's face, "I do not mean to alarm you, but-"

The other Scarecrow lunged forward, putting a hand over his painted mouth. His movements were awkward, which were to be expected, his own often were, but they were uncontrolled. As if this other wasn't used to this body.

Newly created?

He took a step back, but stayed quiet, as clearly that was what the other wanted. The other looked at him with wide eyes, surely those had to be glass, shock and fear clear in them, before looking back.

In the future, Scarecrow would question if what followed was his fault. If it had been him speaking to him, stopping him in his retreat. If it had been his crash landing, bringing attention to his direction.

For within the span of seconds, gaurds appeared from the trees. Wearing the green and emeralds that represented the capital of Oz. As soon as their eyes landed on the other Scarecrow, they lunged for him, shouting something about how he, Fiyero, was wanted traitor.

His unpracticed, awkward movements didn't allow him to run fast enough. Nor did it help Scarecrow, who, though was more experienced, was still awkward and clumsy.

Somehow he ended up falling back trying to help the situation. He stumbled, fell backwards into some type of ditch, his right foot getting caught on a branch along the way.

A few seconds more, and all went silent again. The gaurds were gone, the odd other Scarecrow was gone, and he, was stuck.

Well, this was quite the predicament he'd found himself in.

He signed, with non-existent lungs and air he could not breathe, and let himself go limp. Quite a lot had happened in the span of three minutes. A lot to take in, a lot to process, a lot to decide on, how to proceed.

So, he simply leaned back against the dirt wall, the best he could in this position, and let himself think. He had great brains, given to him by the wizard, and had handled worst before, he was sure all he needed was time.

The ditch wasn't deep, his head near touching the ground. Anyone could easily climb in or out. But it was just deep enough he couldn't exactly reach up to release himself. He was in no pain, of course, but the branch that had cut into his fabric to hold him there, releasing quite a bit of straw in the process, was a concerned.

Of course, he wanted to think on the situation that had just happened. The other Scarecrow, the emerald city gaurds that had called him traitor, even his own mission. But all that he was sure he would have time for later. For now, he needed to figure out how to get himself out of this situation.

So the Scarecrow of Oz, with his lovely brains given to him by the wizard, stayed in place. Thinking.

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

PSA: Stay out of RP tags for a while.

For the uniformed, over the previous week there have been sock accounts that have indeed been posting shock images of irl gore of a variety of subjects in the tags. Even if that doesn't make you personally squeamish, the clear intent is to expose people to it to potentially trigger / traumatize them. The tags they're spamming with these images range from 'oc rp' to outright '(fandom) rp'. While other blogs have been informing people of these accounts to block, and thankfully tumblr staff appears to be taking the blogs down within a 24 hour timespan, the fact that as of writing this person (or a copycat) is on their third blog and probably won't stop. And if they do, it might just be for a short period of time to get people's guards down. The best way to avoid this is, for the time being, stop browsing rp tags for a while and try to stick with the dashboard. On top of that, while I imagine it is tempting to commentate on these situations, outside of telling people the new URL to block, simply try to continue to use your blog as normal. Don't feed the troll, especially when this is a blatant case of using 'shock images' to elicit a reaction out of a niche community. The 'person' will get bored or realize that their blogs will continue to get banned eventually. PS. If you're concerned that you may get stuff sent directly to you, remind yourself of tumblr's safety features and how if a non-mutual tries to send you an image, it will be blurred out. You are safe as long as you stay out of the tags and avoid the 'for you' page (I'd recommend blacklisting popular rp tags if you feel exceptionally antsy about this situation).

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

Reply to @odditiesofoz

---------------------

An hour.

That is exactly how long the peace that Elphaba and Fiyero so desperately wanted had lasted. It took all of an hour for their plan to fall apart. One could put the fault on them for this, after all it had not been a very thought-out plan, but honestly one hour was ridiculous. It seemed any moments of peace shared between the seemed to last that long if not less and frankly Elphaba was tired of it. There had been emerald guards investigating the outskirts of Kiamo Ko, something they hadn’t accounted for in their haste, their horse had been spotted, and they had split up in hopes of losing them.

In hindsight this hadn’t been the smartest plan either.

She had doubled back on the horse, dismounted and sent him on his way, not wanting the animal to get mixed up in it all. From there she had stuck to the shadows, moving quickly and silently, she had ditched the guards quickly. But she worried for Fiyero, knowing he hadn't had the practice she had running from the law, and the last time he had tried had eventually resulted in her having to turn him into a scarecrow.

Elphaba sighed as she tracked him, it was a bit trickier without the bird's eye view, but she still managed. In fact she managed so efficiently that it only justified her fears. And Fiyero was captured then their whole plan, faking their deaths, it would all be for nothing and she couldn't face Glinda after what she had done.

Back in the castle she had been able to hear Glinda through the trapdoor, she had been able to hear her crying. The sound had been like a knife to her heart and it had taken every shred of self control not to emerge and call off the whole charade. The ache in her chest had remained until she heard Fiyero pounding on the door. Since then she had tried to focus on him and them, and not Glinda's tears.

But now she was alone and the thoughts in her head were swirling, one anxiety after another. Her pace quickened, as if trying to outrun them rather than reckon with them. Her heart began to pound harder and she was unsure if it was from exertion or worry. She had to find him.

A tiny wiggling inkling in the back of her mind hissed at her, 'No good deed-'

A warning or a taunt? Or worse-

A reminder.

She had been fighting for so long, and she was so, so, so tired. All she had wanted was to run away, to live the rest of her existence in some sort of peace beyond Oz, so she had done what she believed was good and right, and she had gotten all of an hour. But then again, was she owed that peace?

She was running now, her hood had fallen back and her cloak billowed behind her and she kept on running. She was so lost in her own mind she had stopped actually paying attention to where she was going on the terrain. Which is how she consequentially tripped and fell face first into a ditch.

She landed with a loud, "Omph!"

She had expected the impact to hurt more but something had broken the fall. She had landed on something soft and alive, the smell of dry straw filled her nose. She sprang to her feet.

"Fiyero! Oh thank Oz I was afraid-" Elphaba halted, she had in fact landed on a scarecrow, and it was in fact alive, but it wasn't her love. For one of the very few times in her life, if only for a moment, Elphaba was struck speechless.

She didn't quite know how to begin to process this and all she finally managed was, "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else..."

| Closed Starter for @for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked |

| Muse: Scarecrow |

•°•°•°•°•°•

Glinda had warned him, it was highly possible, traveling to another version of his world, he could meet his counterpart. Another Scarecrow, a mirror of himself, but altered. Different. Perhaps in appearance, perhaps in personality, perhaps in his last.

Scarecrow had known this. He'd even found the possibility intriguing. If it weren't for the mission he'd been sent on, he'd have wanted more time to study these other worlds, the many different reflections of his. Some altered slightly, some altered so much they were barely comparable.

So he'd known, it was a possibility, to meet himself.

He just hadn't expected it to take three minutes since arriving.

He had, quite literally crash landed into the world. Nothing that couldn't be dealt with, he simply had needed a few minutes to regain himself. Rearrange and soften out the lumps created in his straw stuffed body.

And this, is what he had been doing, when he'd heard him.

A familiar crunch of straw. A sound he heard so often as it followed his every movement, he barely gave it thought, if ever. But it had been when he'd heard that familiar sound, from a few feet away.

He froze in his movements of tending to himself. Careful, not to make a sound of his own as he listened. Painted eyes examining the nearby forest for what had made the so familiar sound.

It was then he saw him. Careful as he moved through the woods, attempting, desperately not to make a sound but being damned by the very straw that created his very being, a Scarecrow.

Like him.

In green, for some reason, rather then his blue clothing that represented the Munchkin country he'd been made in. His face wasn't painted, either. No, the sack creating him had been altered, there was a mouth cut, even eyes made of what Scarecrow could only assume was glass of some sort.

There wasn't much time, for Scarecrow's lovely brains to spend wondering on this, strange version of himself. For the once the other saw him, a look of horror seemed to almost morph from his features.

"Good evening." Scarecrow quickly began, hoping to calm the stranger, for he had misinterpreted the fear on the other's face, "I do not mean to alarm you, but-"

The other Scarecrow lunged forward, putting a hand over his painted mouth. His movements were awkward, which were to be expected, his own often were, but they were uncontrolled. As if this other wasn't used to this body.

Newly created?

He took a step back, but stayed quiet, as clearly that was what the other wanted. The other looked at him with wide eyes, surely those had to be glass, shock and fear clear in them, before looking back.

In the future, Scarecrow would question if what followed was his fault. If it had been him speaking to him, stopping him in his retreat. If it had been his crash landing, bringing attention to his direction.

For within the span of seconds, gaurds appeared from the trees. Wearing the green and emeralds that represented the capital of Oz. As soon as their eyes landed on the other Scarecrow, they lunged for him, shouting something about how he, Fiyero, was wanted traitor.

His unpracticed, awkward movements didn't allow him to run fast enough. Nor did it help Scarecrow, who, though was more experienced, was still awkward and clumsy.

Somehow he ended up falling back trying to help the situation. He stumbled, fell backwards into some type of ditch, his right foot getting caught on a branch along the way.

A few seconds more, and all went silent again. The gaurds were gone, the odd other Scarecrow was gone, and he, was stuck.

Well, this was quite the predicament he'd found himself in.

He signed, with non-existent lungs and air he could not breathe, and let himself go limp. Quite a lot had happened in the span of three minutes. A lot to take in, a lot to process, a lot to decide on, how to proceed.

So, he simply leaned back against the dirt wall, the best he could in this position, and let himself think. He had great brains, given to him by the wizard, and had handled worst before, he was sure all he needed was time.

The ditch wasn't deep, his head near touching the ground. Anyone could easily climb in or out. But it was just deep enough he couldn't exactly reach up to release himself. He was in no pain, of course, but the branch that had cut into his fabric to hold him there, releasing quite a bit of straw in the process, was a concerned.

Of course, he wanted to think on the situation that had just happened. The other Scarecrow, the emerald city gaurds that had called him traitor, even his own mission. But all that he was sure he would have time for later. For now, he needed to figure out how to get himself out of this situation.

So the Scarecrow of Oz, with his lovely brains given to him by the wizard, stayed in place. Thinking.

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

Fiyero, Captain of the Guard, interrogates the captured fugitive, Elphaba Thropp, Part 1

Fiyero: So… Elphaba: So? Fiyero: Have you been seeing anyone, or…? Elphaba: Are you seriously leading with that. Fiyero: It’s a multi-pronged investigative approach.

1 | 2 | ?

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

Think of what we could do together.

WICKED: FOR GOOD (2025) dir. Jon M. Chu

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

Jacob Seed 💕

Getting back to developing my new style

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

Thinking about how Elphaba breaking her promise not to leave G(a)linda alone (in the deleted scenes) could have played into their future catfight...

(context)

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

sorcery study session of sorts

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

Ooc~

Currently starting a wicked/sw fiyeraba rp with a friend and I just had to rave about it because my goodness I am nerding out on these concepts

Mirialan!Fiyero with diamond tattoos to reference the blue diamonds on his skin from the book

Twi'lek!Elphaba with humunoid ears instead of cones to go hand and hand with the theory of her being intersex in the book

One a jedi hunter, the other a former jedi padawan turned smuggler for the rebellion

Its combining two things I love and I am GIDDY

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

🩷💚

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

WICKED (2024) dir. Jon M. Chu

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

My Intermission Glinda Headcanons

✨ Glinda keeps a drawer of little gifts she “might give Elphie someday” and pretends it’s not a shrine. (A hair ribbon, a half-finished letter, a pressed flower she thought looked like her.)

✨ She makes an extra cup of tea every morning, just in case. She never drinks it. It just goes cold on her desk while she tries not to look at it.

✨ Sometimes she catches herself turning to say something clever to Elphaba before remembering there’s no one there to answer.

✨ She rereads their old notes, the ones passed in class, and tells herself it’s just nostalgia.

✨ She keeps practicing the speech she’ll give if Elphaba ever comes back. It never sounds right, so she starts over.

✨ She’s terrified of losing her memories of Elphaba’s laugh. She repeats it to herself in her mind like a song.

✨ When the press calls Elphaba “wicked,” she feels something hot and sick twist in her chest, and then she has to blink that away and smile.

✨ She still reaches for Elphaba’s hand when she’s nervous, out of habit. Every time, she catches herself and pretends she was fixing her gown.

✨ She saves every newspaper clipping that mentions the Witch, even the cruel ones. She can’t help it. Some part of her still wants proof she’s alive.

✨ Every night, she tells herself she doesn’t believe in miracles. Every morning, she hopes for one anyway.

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

My Intermission Fiyero Headcanons

✨ He still goes out with Glinda sometimes—state dinners, charity galas, public appearances they can’t avoid. From the outside, they look golden, effortless, perfect. Inside, he feels like a ghost in his own life.

✨ He tries to laugh at her jokes, tries to remember what it felt like to be the boy who could dance through life. But the laughter sticks in his throat, because nothing feels light anymore.

✨ Some nights, Glinda touches his arm and looks at him too long—like she knows exactly who he’s thinking of—and he has to look away.

✨ He refuses to let anyone call her wicked in his presence. He doesn’t raise his voice, but something in his face makes people stop talking.

✨ He accepted the title of Captain of the Guard because he thought if he was closer to the center of power, he’d hear any rumor of her sooner. He tells himself it was strategy, not desperation.

✨ There are nights he stands at the ballroom’s edge while everyone is spinning and laughing, and feels completely separate. The boy who never took anything seriously is gone, and he’s not sure who replaced him. Now he envies the people who can still pretend the world isn’t breaking.

✨ When people say he’s grown more serious—more responsible, more disciplined—they mean it as praise. But sometimes he misses the version of himself who didn’t know what it meant to lose her.

✨ He dreams of her more often than he’d admit. Sometimes she’s angry, sometimes she’s smiling. Always, she’s leaving.

✨ He wonders, privately, if he deserves this numbness—if this is the price of loving someone who refused to be contained.

✨ Once, when a diplomat asked why he looked so serious, he almost said it out loud: I loved someone who taught me how much the world matters. And I don’t know how to unlearn that.

[for-the-first-time-i-feel-wicked]

True magic has become all too rare. WICKED: PART ONE 2024