no one:
elphaba, shoving a barely legible parchment with endless, messy, nonsensical biology notes in your face: look at this. it’s so beautiful. look at it.
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proditeur:
“No. This is Peeves, the Poltergeist,” comes the response from beyond the doorway; though the voice is undeniably that of Regulus and he does not wait long before inviting himself in. “I’m here to shave the feathers from your quills.” Which sounds very much like something the Poltergeist would do, anyways.
He closes the door behind him and begins a slow, methodical pace towards the desk; and he notes that her candle is nearly expired, understanding how long she must have sitting in that same spot, working away at her business.
“What will you do when the flame goes out?” he wonders, picking at some of the dripped wax with his fingertips. A section breaks off in his hand and he closes his fist around it, crumbling it into smaller pieces that fall to the floor where the rest of the candle has dripped, “Is that when you know to stop working, or will you shift your desk closer to the window and work by moonlight?” It is both a tease and not—he is smiling, though perhaps near-imperceptible in the dim light, and carefully watching the lines of her face.
“I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who works as tirelessly as you do. It’s both impressive and… a little intimidating. Some of the others think you never sleep at all.”
Elphaba’s mouth flattens in a rather thinly veiled amusement at the Peeves comment, though she does not stop working, nor does she glance up from the parchment. Truly, of all the professors residing in the castle, she certainly does seem to be one of the unfortunates sitting higher on the entity’s list of Those to Terrorize, and she’s certain that everyone knows it, too. Elphaba suspects it is likely due to her aloof nature and her somewhat dramatic temper; absolute fodder for a poltergeist. Children, of course, were not much different. She’s working on curving that.
“ That depends, I suppose, ” she answers his candlelight comment with a swift humor, glancing quickly at the wax crumbling from his palm and onto her floor. Anyone else may have been met with a quick and sharp dismissal at such a bold notion -- certainly they could not have even come in here in the first place . . . but there is something Elphaba enjoys about Regulus, and his company. He is not an imposing person, despite his genuine skill; not pompous, or at least not in the show-y way she so vehemently despises. His showiness comes out in his wit. And this is a little more tolerable. “ On if I’m satisfied. Of course, I AM a Witch. Some say we rather enjoy a good MOON BATH, so. ”
She finishes dotting her letters with her quill, and lifts it up, toward the aforementioned moon, to use it almost as a backlight. She stretches the parchment apart with her spindly fingers; tilts her head, as if looking at it sideways might grant her the answer. For a long moment she does not address her unexpected - yet - not - entirely - uninvited company. Squinting, she finally shakes her head, and rolls up the parchment at last, placing it upon the desk. “ Drat and damn, damn, damn. ” With a sharp sigh through her nose, she looks at Regulus. She can see that he is smiling in the dim light of the flame; his handsome, silvery smile that offers a chance to bounce her own ideas off of its subtle cunning. She finally speaks.
“ All the better, then. No attempts on stealing anything from my stores. It’s a blessing, keeping awake all hours. Contrary to popular belief I DO sleep, Regulus -- I am not a dragon. But you can keep that to yourself. I certainly enjoy the peace and quiet from those who assume otherwise. ” She raises both brows, now. “ And just what might you be up to, prowling about my study at this time of night? Dumbledore wouldn’t be having you up to something, would he? ”
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wicked novel ending: a long, slow burn tragedy, of the death of elphaba and heartbreaking deterioration of the mind of someone who has never properly recognized and recovered from childhood trauma; a commentary on what guilt and xenophobia does to a person, with some elements of mythology tied in to give it extra spice
wicked musical ending: but what if there was.... a TRAPDOOR!! and she LIVED???? and her pretty white boyfriend was.... a scarecrow!!!
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* ❛ headcanon: elphaba & touch.
Elphaba is quite touch shy. She is not necessarily touch averse, but she doesn’t particularly like being touched by others unless she is very fond of them. She loathes being touched as a comforting gesture, and most likely will not react well to a hug unless it is from someone very loved.
This shyness stems from the fact that as a child, she was often used by her father in convert missions; he paraded her around like a freak of nature, almost, and many of his target populations would be permitted to, and thus, touch her in awe, brush her face, etc. which was very humiliating and dehumanising for her.
Elphaba also does not like to be touched below the waist. She would much rather be the giver in a sexual relationship, and is likely to redirect any wandering hands to her chest, if one gets there with her.
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❥ CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT QUESTIONS
What they value most in other people (e.g. compassion, a sense of humour, intelligence, creativity, etc.)
Things they like most about themselves
Things they like least about themselves
What’s your character’s greatest fear?
What bad habits do they have?
How do they want to be seen by others?
How competitive are they?
How do they react to praise?
How do they react to criticism?
What will they stand up for?
What sense do they most rely on?
How do they treat people better than them?
What quality do they most value in a friend?
Who are their natural allies?
Who are their surprising allies?
Did they grow up nurtured or neglected?
What is their greatest achievement?
What is the most offensive thing they ever said?
Has anyone ever saved their life?
How do they behave in a relationship?
Have they ever had their heart broken?
How do they respond to a threat?
What are their hobbies?
What is their favorite book?
Which movies they absolutely hate?
What are your spending habits?
What words or phrases do they overuse?
What is on their bedside table?
What is in their purse or wallet?
What is their most treasured possession?
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THIS IS AN INDEPENDENT & SOMEWHAT SELECTIVE ROLEPLAY BLOG for Elphaba Thropp of Gregory Maguire’s Wicked: The Life & Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, as well as the Broadway musical of the same name. There will be canon influences of both works present here as well as from the classic Wizard of Oz film. If you know the story of Oz, you will have the basics; my canon is mixed and divergent across all works, and in a number of ways, but does not compete with the film’s storyline. Also, Liir (Elphaba’s son in the novel) as well as Shell are not present in this blog’s canon. You can view my rules (also temporary for now) for a more concise breakdown.
WARNING: some themes of political and social oppression, racism, xenophobia, mental illness and violence, as well as gender, or lack thereof, and body dysmorphia will be present here. if this content is triggering to you, it may not bode well for you to follow. i try to tag all of my triggers.
MUN is named jenn! 21+, she/her, eastern time zone of the usa. i’ve been writing elphaba since 2012 and have loved her for even longer. my activity can be sporadic but i do love to write with all of u when i can manage one whole braincell. i am very approachable and not much offends me. just be polite and don’t steal, kthxbye.
* ❛ PROMO.
* ❛ RULES.
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god i’ve read the novel a number of times but just. the last half -- the amount that elphie has truly Lost it is . . . so damn heartbreaking? like gregory maguire has a way of satirizing it so it’s very witty but it really gets me like almost no other work. elphaba’s fully pacing constantly, paranoid, barely making sense, driven insane with grief and guilt, like she can’t even speak in complete sentences. it’s terrible :(
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Send me a scene that happened in canon and I’ll write in detail how my muse felt in it!
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unelectedofficial:
𝘈 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘌𝘕𝘛 is destined to love their children , even if they don’t like them . and nessa , being around her father for long periods of time ( or , at the very least , for much longer than her sister ever is ) can see that the man doesn’t completely hate his eldest daughter . at times , albeit on rare occasions , she has seen him beam at her amidst her rantings ; they are more similar , than they are different . the two share their passion , even if for different things . they have a way with words , although they can’t seem to convince each other about anything . separated by beliefs and household power , nessarose becomes their middle ground .
❛ i think he felt sorry for how he reacted at dinner , ❜ she says , noting silently how even frexspar had left quickly after their quarrel . while nessa has no proof that it had come from guilt , she likes to believe that he’d felt at least a bit bad about it . a half frown , hoping that elphaba would buy into what she was saying if she did so . ❛ he retired to his room almost instantly – and i tried to get him to understand . ❜
she was not only suggesting that their father would be more likely to send elphaba than nanny to be polite . nessa did feel as though that would be the case . and if she were to ask , to say that it would make her feel more comfortable , he would have to agree . elphaba was more than capable for the task , and could act as a tutor as well .
❛ i think he would , ❜ nessarose says with complete sincerity and a smile to her sister . too often , does her father threaten to take things away unreasonably from the other – and perhaps nessa does feel the weight on her shoulders of having to always resolve these sorts of things . ❛ he’ll do it for me , you know he will . ❜
Elphaba can see that Nessarose is, as usual, the mediator, and she lets herself exhale, attempting to extinguish her fire once and for all, if for no one’s sake but her sister’s. There is a long moment of silence – – she blinks, once, twice, slowly, taking in her sister’s words. I TRIED TO GET HIM TO UNDERSTAND. I TRIED. Well, and there was the rub, wasn’t it? Nessarose still has that youthful, soft and light word so aligned with her own skin, her own fragility, etched into her chest; her skin, her soft face. I tried, I tried. It’s no wonder she is the favorite, Elphaba realizes, once again, calmly, and she is mine too. She tries. Nessarose still is convinced; faithful – – even hopeful. That to try in the face of all is worthwhile, even in matters of faith itself. A far better person than I. I cannot hope; hope has cost me too much. Hardly do I know what it feels like at all. But it is very human, I suppose, to hope.
HE’LL DO IT FOR ME, YOU KNOW HE WILL.
That I do, Nessarose. THAT I DO. AND SO WILL I, FOREVER, FOR YOU.
“ Nessie, ” Elphaba says, at last, clasping her sister’s hand tighter, now. “ Tell me one thing. Do you think it’s wrong, to let the Rats live here, under the manor? Father doesn’t like it and I suppose his reasonings are well-intentioned; they steal food, grains, what have you. But can you blame them? Life is hard for them. ” Elphaba meets Nessarose’s eyes intensely, now, a piercing gaze light, sharp, and anew; it’s not very often that they discuss things like this. Elphaba knows Nessarose is too burdened a being to carry the weight of politics. But she is, genuinely, curious.
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@dorothyytm >>> dialogue starter.
“ YOU. So it was YOU. The famous DOROTHY. The one all of Oz seems to be TALKING about. WE MEET, AT LAST ! How SORRY I am that I haven’t prepared a celebratory feast ! I am preoccupied since the death of my sister, you see. ”
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i noticed a bunch of animal / anthropomorphic muses following my blog and i always love playing elphaba off of them because she is very kind and makes friends with them more easily, so, in short, come at me!! or give this a like and i’ll hop into your IMs, fuzzy babies.
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knowledgegraced:
silence had veiled the atmosphere. an eerie one, at that. in throat, syllables had begun to mould, but hadn’t fled right away. thoughts had been gathered afore it. ❝ the world has wonderful things to offer. i know, ━━━━ i’ve read about them. i’ve seen a few as well. why not give it a chance? ❞ atop all other sentiments, one had always been illuminated. the memory so bittersweet, so tangible. the enchantress’ gift [ … ] one that’d allowed her to escape. even if for a little while. ❝ why not see the beauty of it? ❞ cautiously had a hand been placed on the woman’s shoulder, no hidden motives behind caring orbs. / @westvvitch .
THE WITCH glances up, yanked from her deep crystal of jade, a silent, curt jump at the touch; she stares at the hand upon her shoulder; the touch heavy as lead and deeper a proof of her failure in this world still. CAN THIS WORLD EVER RELEASE ME FROM THIS CRUELTY, THIS LONGING FOR A FORGIVENESS I NEVER RECEIVED ? WAS IT ENDLESS ?
“ Yes, yes, wonderful things. DO NOT DOUBT ME, MY PRETTY -- I’ve seen enough WONDERFUL to last a lifetime and then some and already I am begging for my own to finish, ” her reply is a hissing retort; a response devoid of irony that still seems sarcastic, somehow, but the Witch is being truthful, and she is thinking of the Wizard.
Closing her eyes, the Witch takes a sharp inhale, suddenly, and almost screeches at Belle’s last statement, teeth grit in fury.
“ Oh, BAH! The beauty! What is beauty but a spectre of theatrics? Spare me the partonising, you, ” and she shrugs the hand from her own shoulder, jerkily; as if in pain, “ for whatever my faults I can’t BEAR any more false sincerity ! ”
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* ❛ headcanon: elphaba’s relationship with frex
Also known as her relationship with her sense of self worth, or lack thereof.
There are a lot of differences between Elphaba’s relationship with her father, Frex (notably he is not her biological father, but Elphaba doesn’t know this and neither does he) in the novel vs. in the musical. The novel sets their relationship as tragic and difficult, but with a sense of unrequited love (on Elphaba’s side), while the musical is more outright in its assumption that EIphaba has been neglected and possibly abused by an angry Frex. I am portraying the dynamic with a mix of both, but more canon to the novel, as I think it’s more nuanced.
Elphaba’s father was a minister of Unionism (basically Oz’s equivalent to Catholicism) and as a parent, he is also what I would pin as a covert narcissist. Elphaba’s entire existence, in his eyes, was about him: his own failures, what she could do for his cause, etc. She was green according to him because of a curse; because he had failed to protect his parishioners on the day of her birth, and he does not shy away from telling her this. He also claims, repeatedly, that Elphaba was a terror as a child, and only calmed down and became “more human” once Nessarose was born: thus, Elphaba apparently has her sister to thank for all of her “goodness.” (This is quite untrue, as Elphaba was a very quiet, observant, and calm baby, even before Nessarose is born)
From the very beginning Elphaba was viewed as a mark of Frex’s own failure, with Nessarose being the golden cure, the treasure, the pet. Frex projected all of his own shortcomings onto Elphaba, and she was never treated as anything but an extension of that. He also used Elphaba constantly in his sermons and conversion missions; she was a tool to convert others to his cause. He would have her sing solemn hymns, lead in prayer, and show his converts that, if the Unnamed God can love someone like HIS cursed child, he can love and accept anyone.
Elphaba was always treated as a child worth less than any other human; a child not of her own being, but of Frex’s will.
At the same time, confusingly for Elphaba, Frex did not go without his show of affection from time to time. They would get into fights often, as Elphaba was a headstrong individualist despite this treatment -- even rebelliously so, as she grew older. But Elphaba also always loved her father, despite being incredibly angry and frustrated with him, and she wanted, more than anything, to help him, to appease his sadness, to be the child he needed.
It is a dyanmic she never truly understands, and never recovers from the trauma of.
Elphaba’s relationship with her father paves the way for her behavior in life. She pours her entire being into her cause, her anarchy, her fight for the Animals, and everything else, her identity, her health, her mental wellbeing, her relationships with others . . . it’s all not even considered as holding any sort of importance; everything else is a sidenote. Elphaba truly has no sense of self identity, besides guilt, and the guilt she projects onto everyone into her life -- a mark of her traumatic childhood as a symbol of failure -- as everything that goes wrong for Frex being her fault.
Were Elphaba to have had a healthy relationship with her father, and been brought up with love and encouragement, rather than blame, she would not have carried the burden of guilt for her entire life so heavily. She wouldn’t have projected this onto Fiyero and his family after his death, onto Nessarose, onto her own family, quite so strongly. She probably would have been able to have had an actual relationship with Glinda, should Glinda have been willing. She would have been able to have healthy relationships with others, and had more of a sense of self. In short, she wouldn’t have been driven mad toward the end of her life, with guilt, projection, and resentment.
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hatteir:
westvvitch: ELPHABA
“Foolish? Grotesque?” He was nearly in SHOCK his presence had been described in such a way. Truthfully, he had indeed arrived unannounced and on a WHIM, however he felt it was rather flashy- arriving in style was his specialty. “I find it rather- intriguing, don’t you?” He wondered, a hand placed onto his hip while the other moved in motion with his words. Brows furrowing, but only for a moment- before his lips pulled a SMIRK. “What would be the point of a proper entrance when I could just- “ He made a swirling motion with his fingers, “Magically appear?”
“ Well. Many points, all of which seem NOT to be of any particular worth to the likes of you and your personal values, or lack thereof, and so certainly my explaining of them will be largely lost -- -- but here I go anyhow. Sorcery, magic, the likes of any of those other glittery, false and fun trickeries; it’s nothing more than theatrics. A way to make an impression. Those who value theatrics likely value others viewing them as impressive, entertaining. Or, well, intriguing, as you say. Perhaps even powerful. I, for one, have exactly the opposite reaction: I view one making an entrance like that immediately as a straw-man, and a silly one at that. But as all of Oz will tell you, I am a freak of nature; an accident -- wicked. My opinion should mean absolutely nothing, therefore, and truly, what do I know ? This is all coming from a green girl. I am a theatric in myself. ” Elphaba raises both brows, crooks her head -- stares at the other from one side of her face, akin to a parrot, one palm balancing her rigid body upon the cold, stone window. “ So out with it, then. What is your business with me ? ”
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@irnmaidn >>>> dialogue starter.
“ WELL, MY STARS ——— you certainly have a way with words, don’t you? ”
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