#FIYERO WHERE ARE YOU?!?!

[cherryluvss]

what's your favourite song?

True Love - Ariana Grande

Like Him - Tyler, The Creator

Peggy - CeeChyna

What's YOUR favourite song?? Put me onnnn

[thetorturedlovergirl]

So you're telling me that if Elphaba hadn't been able to turn Fiyero into a scarecrow, Dorothy would have found a beaten and nearly dead man tied to a post.

[tending-the-hearth]

"no one mourns the wicked" but from glinda's perspective, she's not singing that elphaba is wicked, but that she herself is.

at that point, glinda fully believes her best friend is dead, and the only other friends she had from schiz are scattered around with no intent to see her again.

glinda blames herself for what happened to elphaba, she lost everything the moment nessarose died. she lost fiyero, she lost elphaba, she lost the two people she loves most in the entire world. elphaba and fiyero run off together, and glinda is left behind to pick up the pieces.

she is so convinced that she is the villain in elphaba's story that her singing "the wicked die alone/it just shows when you're wicked you reap only what you sow" shows her knowing her own choices led her to this moment, where she is so utterly alone. she has fans, she has supporters, but she has absolutely no one who truly knows and loves her.

[saccharii]

Unexpectedly, I found myself liking Fiyero an awful lot after watching the Wicked movie.

Man lived a privileged, comfortable life, and when he was exposed to the persecution of others he did not look away but instead went through the emotionally and mentally difficult process of challenging his world view and growing as a person.

[a-couple-of-notes]

hey sorry i wanna talk some more about no one mourns the wicked.

when glinda's introduced, her first celebratory lines slide into a question:

Isn't it nice to know that good will conquer evil, the truth we all believe'll by and by outlive a lie for you and - [I]?

and in a song full of double meanings, glinda isn't asking that question (only) to the ozians. she's asking it to elphaba, who has always been that other half of "you and i." even though glinda has promised not to reveal the truth, she's still hoping that it will come to light someday for her and elphaba. and it's also a heartbreaking call-forward to defying gravity, because just like that moment where glinda almost gets on the broom, there can't be a "you and i" here--it's cut off by the world they exist in.

[ethanrayne]

i've been in the Wicked fandom for, basically, a hot second at most, and already i am extremely fucking tired of some nonsense i'm seeing-

-pitting glinda and fiyero against each other/comparing them in a way that's about saying one is better (as opposed to comparing them in a character analysis/literary analysis way which is obviously great and fun)

-whining about fiyero's existence because "ew, het nonsense" as though that's not the most childish biphobic bullshit in the universe (bonus hatred points for actually claiming movie!fiyero is in any way heterosexual. bestie you need to rewatch dancing through life. that man is bi.)

-the word comphet everywhere. mostly about glinda/fiyero (which is a little bit a valid interpretation but i disagree with it) but also just about fiyero's existence in the story which. see point two.

anyway as usual when i get into a big fandom i clearly need to limit my interactions to the people who ship whatever niche poly ship (well. less niche this time) i fall for, because dear god monogamous monosexual fandom is the most asinine hellhole of bad takes. give me the bi/pan polyam corners of fandom where i am so much less likely to want to yell at people.

[just-some-guy-at-shiz]

“On the day before I met the Scarecrow,” Dorothy said, “I was invited to stay at the home of a Munchkin farmer named Boq and his family, and—“

“Boq?” both the Scarecrow and the Tin Man repeated in surprise, almost speaking in unison. They then turned to one another in confusion.

Dorothy was taken aback by this reaction. “Yes,” she continued. “He was very kind. He hosted a wonderful dinner, and an evening of dancing where I almost wore out my feet.” The girl giggled. “Of course, these lovely shoes are as pristine as ever. I suspect we’ll all wear out before they show even the slightest sign of age.”

Dorothy’s companions seemed oblivious to her attempt at humor. “Can you describe this Boq?” the Scarecrow asked curiously. The Tin Man stayed silent, watching for Dorothy’s response.

“Well, he was an older man,” Dorothy began, putting a finger to her lips as she recalled, “Grey haired and barrel-chested, always laughing good-naturedly. He reminded me of my Uncle Henry. Except that Uncle Henry is tall and thin, and doesn’t ever seem to smile at anything.” Dorothy frowned, realizing the fault in her comparison. “Well, they’ve both got gray hair, at the least. And I feel very safe and protected around the both of them, as I imagine one would with a father or mother. I was a bit sad to say goodbye.”

“He sounds wonderful,” the Scarecrow said, though there was a certain disappointment in his voice that did not match his words.

“He was,” Dorothy said, beaming, “I’m so happy to have met so many good people on my travels, even in such a short time.”

The Tin Man nodded absently, then spoke. “How are his children?”

“Oh, yes,” Dorothy said in surprise, “He does have several children. I played games with them after we ate, long into the evening. It was quite nice to be with other children, as I spend so much time back home with only Toto as my company.”

“Then his family is doing well?” The Tin Man pressed.

“Oh, certainly,” Dorothy confirmed with a nod, “They seemed as contented as a family could be, with all they desired from life. In fact, the family seemed to be rather wealthier than any other I had encountered—though of course they were generous with what they had, inviting many of their surrounding neighbors to join in on the celebration of their newly gained liberty.”

“They are well-off enough to send some of the younger children to college, perhaps?”

“You seem awfully concerned with the well-being of this Boq and his family,” the Scarecrow interjected, casting an inquiring look towards the Tin Man.

“I am Munchkin myself,” the Tin Man responded quickly, “I knew the family once, and I only wanted to be assured of their continued well-being, if such assurance was available.”

“How can you care for their well-being?” Dorothy asked plainly, “If you are without a heart, and therefore without compassion? I ask only because you yourself have told me of your inability to love.”

The Tin Man paused. “Call it simple curiosity. Nothing more important than that. Whether they prosper or suffer, it no longer has anything to do with me, and has not for some time.”

“Do you miss them at all?” Dorothy asked.

“Perhaps in another time, I might have,” the Tin Man mused, his voice measured. “I’m not sure that I can miss them at present.”

“Oh. Yes,” Dorothy said solemnly. “Well, perhaps once you have your heart, you can return and visit them. I’m sure they would be very glad to see you.”

“Would they?” The Tin Man asked quietly, more to himself than to his companions. He hesitated a moment, then shook his head. “I cannot visit them in this state. I am not myself.”

“Of course,” Dorothy smiled with understanding. “We must return to our quest, so that we all may receive that which makes us complete. Do you agree, Scarecrow?”

“Yes, of course,” the Scarecrow said without looking at Dorothy. His gaze was instead focused on the Tin Man with a concentration unexpected from one lacking a brain. The Tin Man glanced behind himself, then back at the Scarecrow’s steady stare, with slight unease.

“Are you all right?” Dorothy asked the Scarecrow, noticing the intensity in his expression.

“Oh yes, just trying to… figure it all out,” the Scarecrow murmured, pulling his eyes away from the somewhat bewildered Tin Man. “I haven’t got a brain, you know, you must be patient with me. It’s very difficult to understand things when you don’t know… things…”

“Do you think you’ve got it now?” Dorothy asked patiently.

“Oh yes,” the Scarecrow said, “I cannot be certain, of course… but I think some things are starting to make sense.”

[helioptilie]

Elphaba promise and the Boq and Elphaba talk are so good but also I understand why they cut them. we can’t be too transparent in act 1, all those feelings need to bubble under the surface a bit more

[crokitheloki]

i just wanna watch porn but specifically porn that makes me feel the way I do when i read fanfiction

like. I don't wanna just watch people fucking I want the emotions and the feelings behind it.

basically. I want to watch my blorbos fuck and I think it's incredibly unfair that I cannot watch my blorbos fuck

also sorry not sorry but the sexiest part about my blorbos is their shared history and how well they know each other and the amount of love shared between them and the sexiest part about fucking is just knowing and loving someone so much that they live in your fucking soul that's how much you love them

[ghostmaggie]

personal affirmation: I'm going to finish writing these fics I'm so excited about and they're going to be so good. I am not going to burn out and leave them unfinished for years. PLEASE.

[defyed]

Her  life  has  never  been,  truly,  her  own.     What  little  choice  afforded  to  her  before  her  birth  stripped  from  her  newborn  grasp  with  the  emerald  pigment  of  her  flesh,     so  Elphaba  never  knew  the  'ease'  of  life,  and  the  possibility  of  future.     This,  she  had  known.     Reminded  at  EVERY TURN,  every  opportunity-     her  life  has  never  been  her  own.     It  was  her  father's,  to  do  with  as  he  pleased,  and  it  was  her  sister's,  self-sworn  to  stand  at  Nessarose's  side  until  the  day  Death  chose  to  intervene.     And  even  then,  he  would  find  only  resistance  in  the  clawing  of  Elphaba's  fingers  and  the  dragging  of  her  heels.    Now,  her  life  is  forfeit  again-     This  time,  to  a  Prince.    Oz  forgive  her,  but  fuck  her  life.     "   You're  staring.   "     Words  catching  indifferently  in  the  hollow  of  her  throat  as  she  turned  her  eyes  toward  her  .  .  .  betrothed.     "   Again.   "     And  she's  used  to  staring,  grown  accustom  to  the  varying  ways  they  linger  on  her  skin-     Judgemental,  horrified,  DISGUSTED,  terrified  .  .  .  pitiful-   Perhaps  that's  the  worst  of  all.     But  @slashaer's  gaze  is  not  one  she  can  pinpoint  with  ease.    It  bothers  her.     A  feat  none  have  managed  in  years.     A  sigh  befalls  from  her  lips,  and  she  rolled  her  eyes  away.    "   If  you're  bored,  might  I  suggest,  I  don't  know,  reading?   "     Her  only  consolation  to  this  arrangement  being  her  enrolment  in  Shiz  almost  makes  this  worth  it.     Almost.

[obstinaterixatrix]

to be clear I think polyshipping is valid in wicked but fiyero is nothing to me. he’s fine but I don’t see him. stick him with boq if you must. I think all the time about If Glinda Was In The Lion Scene Instead…

[lenzimanot]

@rthlss ( from here )

"i've been up for three days, everything is haunted. " liir's sleep deprived body almost falls to the floor. tired boy has had the longest days in the world. "everybody's evil and there's bugs inside the carpet." there are no actual bugs, he's just been up long enough to feel them. which is probably bad. instead of thinking about how bad that is, he turns to fiyero, his father. gaunt eyes. magic curling at his finger tips. look what you've made fiyero. a boy. " do you think i'm frightening? organ chords and lightning? "

Instinctively his gaze drops to the carpet, in search of the bugs, before meeting Liir's. "No." The reply comes quick, perhaps too quick to be fully convincing. Had he been scared of Elphaba? Perhaps a bit, in certain moments. But Fiyero hadn't loved her in spite of it, but because of it. He can't see why that shouldn't apply to Liir as well. Elphie's son. His son.

That notion still feels strange and unnervings, as he examines the boy and notices his tired eyes, the magic swirling in the air around him,. "I just think you need some good rest."

[ruler-of-oz]

@dancedthrough sent: ∗ 3o﹕ sender wraps a blanket around receiver’s shoulders .

It was the feel of the blanket that woke her; the weight and warmth of it as it draped across her shoulders. Lifting her head, Ozma blinked away the sleep before looking to see just who had discovered her hiding spot -- the small corner of the palace's attic that she had turned into a reading nook. A place where she could pour over her mother's notes (and the Grimmerie) uninterrupted.

As so little of her time was uninterrupted these days. Ever since they had left Kiamo Ko. Moved to the Emerald City.

At the sight of her father, the young queen relaxed. "What time is it?" The question was half a yawn. She had clearly been up there for hours -- even before passing out...

[o-wild-west-wind]

While I’m still a bit bummed that they didn’t go with a more book-aligned POC Fiyero for the Wicked movie, I’ve been thinking (heheh) about how his being white highlights the really interesting foil relationship between him and Glinda (and, in many ways, the audience yourself).

At its core, Wicked is a cautionary tale about propaganda, (literal) scapegoating, and what it means to uphold the status quo. The audience is watching through Glinda’s eyes—it is through her, arguably the most beautifully tragic character of the show, that we learn how lonely life becomes when you forfeit your values in favor of systemic power and likability (“No One Mourns the Wicked” is, in many ways, about HER).

Now, this is where Fiyero’s whiteness can get interesting—if you consider him and Glinda to share roughly equal footing at the beginning in terms of privilege/how much they have to lose (applying our real-world lens of race and power here, where whiteness is the apex), his storyline essentially represents what could have happened if Glinda had made the brave (and arguably wise and loving, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down 👀) choice to go with Elphaba and fight the good fight (this is also why I feel like a queer reading of G&E’s relationship is almost implicit to the story, but I digress).

As the POC/marginalized allegory, Elphaba has much less of a real choice in her curtain-pulled-back turning point. But Fiyero and Glinda—both representing privilege—get to choose. So in Act II, we see the consequences of both the choice to stay (Glinda) and to go (Fiyero). In Fiyero’s case, his ultimate rejection of his own power, privilege, and even beauty leads to immense physical loss—including his own body—but that is then compared to the loss of love, community, and identity that we see Glinda left with by the end. And this brings us to the question that the audience is left grappling with: in an unjust system where loss is inevitable (a.k.a. our own world, as the Wizard himself represents), which of these things are YOU more willing to give up?

It’s important that Glinda is an empathetic character because, in reality, most people are going to be Glindas (obvi this is nuanced among us Elphabas of marginalized identities, but I’d still argue that there’s some level of Glinda in us all)—and it’s important to be rattled by the end of the show when you realize that she is the one who has the sad ending. But it’s also so important that Fiyero is empathetic (which I’m SO glad this movie leaned into)—because he’s ultimately who Glinda—and thus we, as the audience—should have been.

And especially given the state of US politics right now…this is just all more relevant than ever.