#i wouldn't have been able to think of half of this

[papasbaseball]

The Wizard x Reader (Wonderful Wonderful Girl) | Chapter 18

Pairing: Wizard x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Power Imbalance, Boss/Employee Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Sexual Content, Spanking

Summary: Being a maid in the Royal Palace of Oz is not half so bad. Despite the meager wages, everything else is provided for you for an honest day's work. It can be unnerving working for the most powerful man in Oz, but you are able to avoid him most of the time. This changes during Lurlinemas, your paths soon becoming inextricably intertwined.

Word Count: 2,565 of 47,525

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There are forty-seven steps between leaving the Upland Estate and killing Fiyero. The rest of the War Council has cleared out except for General Minkus, the Wizard, Madame Morrible, Tomathy, and me. The meeting and plans are on a strict need-to-know basis: no need for financial backers or anyone else that might let something slip from loose lips. The Wizard doesn't let me out of his grip the entire time, pulling me closer at any mention of possible danger.

"There isn't much cover," General Minkus says, sweeping his index finger down the straight railroad markings. "The train has been shut down, but the dirt road is still open. Over here, to the west, that's where they have their base camp set up. It's sheltered by some hillocks. They've set up some spike barricades here and here." His finger points to two hillocks that butt up to the walls of the Emerald City and dovetail perpendicularly together to form a triangle... except for a narrow sliver of a valley between them.

"One way in, one way out," I say.

"It's a good thing you sprained your wrist," Minkus says, pointing to the dirty bandages. The Wizard tightens his grip around my waist. "You sure Fiyero has a soft spot for you? The wounded animal ploy will only work if he wants to help."

"I'm sure," I say. It's a lie. Nothing was certain anymore

General Minkus looks to the Wizard. "He might take her as collateral if he thinks it'd make you surrender faster. We'd have to cut our losses."

"Yeah, well it won't come to that," The Wizard says, pulling me more to the side of him, away from the general. "We're going to be running scouts along the perimeter. She takes her time to go outside of camp to.... uh..." He waves his hand, and I try not to be embarrassed by what he’s implying in front of the most important people in Oz. "And we make sure she's okay. We’ll do it every day until she kills him, and then we’ll get her out immediately"

"It might be dangerous if we meet up immediately," I say. "I think we should give it two days. He's going to be watching my every move."

General Minkus nods at this. "She's right. If I were Fiyero, I wouldn’t even trust a known ally if they walked in halfway through a war. I wouldn't take my eyes off them. It’s been a week since the Lurlinemas ball."

"I don't care for this at all," the Wizard says. "Isn't there some other way? This… It just seems too risky. We've got the five thousand."

"Five thousand was good yesterday,” General Minkus says, “when our inside resources were twice as strong. With the barricades they've got set up, we're going to need everything we can get on them, including inside intel, maybe even a distraction."

"Or kidnapping," I say, grabbing the Wizard's arm. "I could seduce him out into an open area where it would just be him and me, and then you could take him hostage. It would put the war to an immediate end."

Oscar looks down at me with a chastising look of doubt, and I think for a brief moment I see his eyes darken at the thought of me seducing Fiyero at all. Best to be more mindful.

There's a knock on the doorway, and we all turn to see a blonde woman so thin and petite she could have been blown away with a strong breeze. She’s dressed all in pink, with a ridiculous arrangement of rose-colored ostrich feathers in her blonde hair. This must be Lady Upland, but it can't be: she's much younger than the woman in the portrait that hung in the office.

"Oh! So sorry," she says, her voice high and soft as a wind chime. "Auntie Lorinda didn't say anything about guests. It's so nice to meet you all." She offers a white gloved and thin hand in greeting, but startles when she notices General Minkus. "Oh!"

General Minkus says, "Miss-"

"Galinda," she says with a smile, crossing the room to offer her hand to him.

"Miss Galinda, this is a confidential meeting."

"How perfect! I just love meeting confident new people, They make life more exciting." Giving up on her vanishing goal of shaking the General's hand, she snaps in a pivot to me. "Don't you think so?"

I offer my hand to her, hoping not to call any attention to the private information behind her on the map. She takes my hand, and wraps her other hand around the back of mine, saying, "You know, I can tell a lot about a person just by saying hello." She stares into my eyes, narrowing hers. I think she's doing it to avoid blinking, to better stare all the way through me. "You've been traveling for days," she says, nodding her head. I nod with her, trying to play along. "Something tragic happened. You've been hurt recently." I try to steady my breathing, as if that will stop any reddening in my cheeks. Were the Wizard and I really that loud in the office? She grabs my injured wrist suddenly, gasping, "Oh! How horrible!"

"Are you a doctor?" I ask. How had I managed to turn this war meeting into a meet and greet?

"Me?" she says, blinking in disbelief. "No. Why? Do I look like one?"

"Ms. Galinda," Tomathy says, approaching us from the other side of the map table.

"Yes?" she replies with a cock of her head. Whatever image I had of her being taken away by a gust of wind was false. She was a perky pink parakeet, the way she chirped and flit with each new passing thing that caught her attention.

"You said that you knew she had been traveling for days. That's quite a remarkable observation."

"Oh, not really," she says with a laugh. "It's just the way..." she swallows and gives a nervous, high-pitched laugh. "Even if you all are confident people, it would be rude."

Tomathy smiles broadly. I think it is supposed to be an affable smile, but on him, it is always frighteningly toothy. "You're Lady Upland's niece, yes?"

Whatever faux pas she had imagined in her brain, it is now washed away and Galinda the parakeet is back. "Yes. I'm up here for Lurlinemas. I didn't know that she would have more guests. I heard you all talking up here, and I thought it was family, but, well, friends or family it makes no difference. The more, the merrier, right?"

"Of course, of course," Tomathy reassures her, putting an arm around her bird-boned shoulder. He takes me in his other arm, and I feel Oscar tense for the briefest of moments before he lets me go. "We're all here for Lurlinemas with Lady Upland, but your words got me to thinking."

"Yes?" Galinda says as we are escorted out of the library.

"My friend here, we can't have her looking like she's been traveling for days. Not on Lurlinemas."

"Oh. Oh, no!" Galinda agrees, grabbing his arm in excitement.

"Is there anyway you could make her look like she's ready for the best Lurlinemas party that anyone has ever thrown?"

Galinda gasps, and quickly hops out of his grasp. "I know it! I know just what to do! Stay here! I'll be right back. I- My luggage – oh, my luggage – it's downstairs. I'll..." She snaps in a pivot and is off flying down the foyer stairs.

"What in the name of Oz was that?" Tomathy breathes as he watches her hop across the white marble foyer on her pink parakeet legs.

"Lady Upland's niece, I'd say," Oscar says, scratching his cheek.

"How'd she know about the accident?" Tomathy asks.

"I don't know," Oscar says, "but I'm curious to see what else she's seeing that we're not."

________________________

We spend the rest of the day succumbing to Galinda's fashion whims, as she picks and prunes me into nearly what I looked like the night of the party.

When the night comes to a close, an Upland maid escorts us to our rooms. Oscar pulls me into his with an excuse that I am his personal valet and a generous tip to the maid (probably to keep her mouth shut).

"What happened to me being your daughter?" I ask after he closes the door. The room is dark, but rays of moonlight throw silvery shapes onto the cream carpet of the guest-of-honor room.

"If you want to call me daddy, I'm not going to stop you," he says, tossing his jacket onto one of the pale rococo chairs up against the wall. "One last night together. We can do whatever you want."

"You're not still mad from earlier?" I ask.

He walks through the moonbeams, letting them paint excitement onto the boring brown waistcoat and pants. I watch in envy as they trace his body, eager to let my fingers do the same in these last few hours of familiarity.

"Are you talking about the spanking?" he asks. "I wasn't mad. I just had to-"

"You were mad," I stop him. "It was wrong, but I knew it would make you mad to bring Fiy- him up. I could see it in your eyes."

He steps closer, shrouding himself in darkness once more, the ghostly glow kissing his cheeks and the silver stubble of his beard. "It doesn't matter if I'm mad or not," he says quietly, "we... I have a nation to run. Consequences are consequences."

I take his hand, admiring the taut skin of a foreign palm under my fingertips. Bringing it to my lips, I kiss a small scar on the side of his thumb. "What's the consequence of that?"

Our hands together come up to touch my face as he stoops to kiss me. His tongue tastes like warm cinnamon, and I remember looking over at him during Galinda's Great Big Fashion Makeover as she was slipping a green velvet dress onto me. His eyes were wolfish as he hollowed and unhollowed his cheeks, his tongue tossing a cinnamon candy he had grabbed out of a complimentary dish. Now, his tongue plunged into me, slipping warmly against mine in a plea as he pressed me closer to him, stomach to stomach, his fingers threading into my hair.

"Is it so severe?" I ask, breaking the kiss.

"Yes," he growls, picking me up so that I can wrap my legs around him. He walks us to the fluffy and overly-beaded and pillowed white bed, and kneels on it, careful in laying us down on the opulent quilt.

"What are we going to do?" I ask. The question could be about anything, really. I think, in the moment, I want the world to stop. I don't want the sun to rise, I don't want Oz to have a leader. Why can't it just be me and Oscar in the warmth of a stranger's home, tangled in an embrace without any fighting?

"Don't ask those kind of questions," he says, kissing my neck, biting but quickly releasing it before he ruins the carefully curated image we had prepared. "We'd better get you out of this dress, put it somewhere safe." He turns me over, dragging the zipper down slowly. The zipper comes to a stop, and he asks me to sit up before helping me shoulder off the velvet sleeves. He stares at my bare breasts, watching as I get up from the bed and let the rest of the dress drop to the floor.

"You said I could have anything I want," I say, standing there naked in the moonlight. I step out of the dress and throw it haphazardly into the chair with his jacket. "I want you."

"You have me."

"No, not the Wizard of Oz," I say. "I want Oscar. Show me who you are. No mechanical heads, no magic."

"No, you don’t," he says.

"Let me meet him and see for myself," I say quietly.

I go back to the bed and straddle him where he's sat on the edge, my hands sinking into the soft and curly white of his hair. My lips meet his in a gentle kiss that doesn't last. Oscar doesn't have the patience or will to conceal the need to fuck me, to claim me. The cinnamon of his tongue is a taste of how he paints with movements and touches: a violent red that is all-consuming, a warning of an overwhelming and dangerous lust made of clawing and scraping teeth. His mouth finds my neck and the plan to keep me as pristine as possible is gone as he inhales the scent of my neck in between painful kisses. "I don't want you to go," he breathes.

I push him onto the bed, rocking my hips against his pants and his hardened cock beneath them. "I want you to make me forget all of it," I say, kissing him. "I need you."

"Yes," he says. “Whatever you want.” He grabs me and flips us. Ridding us of the rest of our clothes, he then has me pinned to the bed by my wrists, sinking his cock into me.

"Oscar," I gasp.

"Shhh," he says, kissing me. His hips set a steady pace, not hard, but careful enough to catch the places within me that pull my back from the bed in an act of magic. He's true to his word, because as he pins me to the bed and takes me, I don't think about the war or the kidnapping or any of it. I can only focus on how I can’t move my wrists in his grip, the way his stubble pricks my lips in between the bites and lashes of tongue, the way he seems to alter the arc of his hips if I moan a certain way.

I feel the thread of pleasure tighten, and I struggle in his hands, fighting for anything to grab onto as his grip tightens even further around my wrists until I cry out in pain.

"Feel it," he pants. "Let it take over you. You can handle it."

A strangled bleat escapes my throat as I struggle against my restraints, desperate for any kind of tension to avoid feeling the full gluttony of pleasure that snaps within me. I need to rake my nails against his skin, grab fistfuls of quilt, anything to not bear the sickening sweetness that he has brought upon me as I feel my walls clenching around him again and again.

He pulls out before he can spill inside me. Warm spurts of cum land on my stomach, accompanied by his gasps. He stares at the way the moonlight falls on how he has marked me, his shining chest heaving from the effort, before falling down next to me.

"I like it better when you cum in me," I say, laying a hand on his still-heaving chest.

"I had to," he breathes with shut eyes.

"I know we haven’t talked about it,” I say, “but if it’s about me getting pregnant-"

"No," he says, pulling me closer so I can rest my head against the warm and sweaty skin of his chest. A smattering of silver hairs tickle my cheek and mouth with each rise and fall of breath. "Just... had to. That's all."

[markantonys]

my hot take is that i think 6 would be the ideal number of seasons for wotshow! i know everybody gasps and clutches their pearls anytime i suggest that less than 8 seasons could actually work and be good and be plenty of time haha and for that reason i will make this unrebloggable, mostly just musing to myself over here, not looking to start an argument! but if we put s4 finale as dumai's wells, which is a big turning point in the series.........i honestly struggle to imagine 4 full seasons' worth of story for most of the main characters after that point. most of them kinda only have 1 major story arc between dumai's wells and last battle prep, tbh, and the rest of the pagetime in all those books is made up of either cuttable sidequests (ebou dar, far madding, etc) or cuttable minor characters and their cuttable subplots eating up an absolutely inordinate amount of pagetime while the mains tread water and take 4 books to accomplish something they should've been able to do in 1. it's also worth noting that stuff often takes less time to do in the show than we might assume; for example, a lot of people might assume mat's moiraine rescue heist should take up half of an episode since it's important, but it's actually not that long of a sequence and i bet they could do it in like 10-15 minutes.

now for a layout of how each main character could do 6 seasons!

rand: s4 dealing with caemlyn and maybe also cairhien with anvaere as colavaere, finale dumai's wells leaving him ready to downward spiral into a dark place next season; s5 darth rand as the season-long emotional arc with smaller plot beats like the cleansing and semirhage peppered throughout (cairhien could also be placed here), finale epiphany; s6 loose ends (like bonding with his partners, which i feel could work great as a post-epiphany narrative reward rather than being crammed in before he starts going downhill) and last battle

egwene: s4 going to salidar and being raised amyrlin maybe as the midseason climax, then second half of season heading for tar valon with finale cliffhanger being kidnapped; s5 tower arc, finale seanchan battle; s6 loose ends (gawene, TAR battle with mesaana's substitute unless that somehow gets folded into the seanchan battle) and last battle

perrin: s4 maybe masema is dealt with early to fill up perrin's TFOH absence, finale dumai's wells; s5 faile kidnapping arc married to his TOM whitecloak alliance storyline by having galad's whitecloaks be his devil-deal for rescuing faile rather than the seanchan (and maybe it's the seanchan who kidnap faile, thus letting the shaido be done with after dumai's wells and ensuring all the main characters are narratively connected to the seanchan during s5); s6 loose ends and last battle

mat: s4 forming the band and maybe leading them at dumai's wells as the culmination; s5 some kind of storyline that covers his tuon and seanchan involvement, though i imagine the circumstances would have to be fairly different from canon if ebou dar is indeed cut (maybe he absorbs ituralde and leads campaigns against the seanchan on rand's behalf, which brings him into tuon's path, though idk how it would play out after that since he wouldn't abandon his own army to haul her off on a solo roadtrip, unless maybe something happened to force him to); s6 loose ends (moiraine rescue - i think it would make more sense as an early-season event in the final season, and in the penultimate season finale all we get is a cliffhanger tease that moiraine might be alive) and last battle

nynaeve: barely has any story to speak of after ebou dar besides being a cheerleader for rand/lan/elayne, so even for a 6-season model they'd probably have to make stuff up for her (i still like my previous suggestion of rand having sent ALL his partners away during darth rand time, which here would be s5, and so nynaeve is the one he almost kills during the collaring incident, and this causes him to send her away too, to the black tower where she and logain basically replace pevara and androl in cleaning up that mess, thus ensuring this important storyline is in the hands of a main character, neatly paralleling egwene's efforts to clean up the mess at the white tower during the same season, tying out nynaeve's connections with logain as the one who healed him AND in showverse as someone who also witnessed his gentling and whom he was impressed by, and being a poetic conclusion to the show's flirtation with the idea of nynaeve joining the red ajah by having her instead be a key figure in *helping* men who can channel)

elayne: s4 rejoins the waste crew to get folded into avirand's relationship and work with rand on retaking caemlyn; s5 succession arc; s6 loose ends (cairhien throne maybe) and last battle

the main issue here is that that's putting a whole bunch of major climactic events in the s5 finale (rand's epiphany, egwene vs. the seanchan, perrin's battle of malden, elayne's battle that makes her queen), but i'm sure they could spread these across two different episodes like s3 is doing (perhaps elayne & perrin in ep7 and egwene & rand in ep8). and there also isn't a great way to *not* have all these late-series climaxes coincide unless some characters have their single late-series storyline stretched across 2 seasons, which i'd say is a big no-no for TV.

so, yeah! i'd never say no to 7 or 8 seasons of course, but when *i* game it out, 6 is the number i naturally land on, although i know i'm much more merciless about cutting stuff than a lot of readers are! hell, even rafe is taking s3 at a slower pace than i'd initially proposed back before we knew anything. 6 also has the advantage of being a pretty reasonable and realistic number to hope for in today's television landscape (WOT's sister-show ROP is slated for 5, so reasonable to imagine WOT might land somewhere around that number too). 5 seasons would be tight but doable, 7 or 8 would be luxurious, but i would be extremely pleased to get 6 even if that's less than rafe's max possible number.

my final note is that i suspect we are now around about the Decision Point where amazon has to let rafe know how many total seasons he'll get so he can plan out s4 accordingly, and thus i also suspect that s3 will leave everyone pretty much exactly in their TSR ending spots, which would make them all well-positioned to pivot into different things in s4 depending on the future plan. (for example, say elayne and nynaeve are still in tanchico at the end of s3. this way, if it's decided there will be 7 or 8 seasons, they can head off to salidar in s4 and take time for a sidequest, whereas if it's decided there will be 5 or 6 seasons, they may have to scoot straight over to rand & co right off the bat in s4 to get ready to launch into the caemlyn arc.)

[starman-john-tracy]

Garden Party Gale [RP]

@socialitesleuth:

The tension in the library was palpable. Penelope had sat herself far enough away from the crowd of guests so they couldn't hear her conversation. It hadn't been entirely purposeful at first but Penelope was glad of it upon hearing the latest update. It provided little comfort. Outside, Penelope's well kept, neatly arranged gardens battled against the thunderous winds of the storm. Inside, Penelope herself was beginning to battle the rising tide of fury as she considered the implications of what John had been relaying. "Stolen or escaped... I'm not sure which outcome I'd prefer." Penelope mumbles, half to herself but loud enough for John to hear. "Would Thunderbird One be able to fly through a storm like this? I know Scott is a mighty fine pilot, but I wouldn't want him to risk himself, or the ship, if it wasn't safe enough. The same goes for you too." John's suggestion of bringing himself down was ludicrous, and Penelope had to agree with EOS's attempt to question the sensibility of the idea, but she knows that look. She knows that grin, and she knows there would be very little point in arguing a case against it if her only argument was because she thought it wasn't safe. But, with Parker still busy tending to the guests, Penelope figures there's little alternative she'd be able to find. After all, going out completely alone on the wild goose chase would be just as dangerous an idea as John's was. It would undeniably be better for the two of them to brave the storm together. Forget strength in numbers; Penelope's current concern regarded safety. Her eyes find the spider-web crack, stark against the pristine condition of the inner frames of the window. How long would it be before the glass took another hit? How long until the storm damaged more of the manor, possibly worse? Depending on how long the rogue drone could sustain itself, it could be hours before the storm is over. They had to act, and they had to act fast. "Are you absolutely certain you can make it down without putting yourself in too much danger?" It mattered little that John had already given her those reassurances; Penelope would be concerned until his feet were firmly set on the ground — which she realises was now a definite actuality. The drone had to be found and so the word 'no' was no longer an option. She stands from her seat, dusts off her skirt and heads over to Parker and the gathered crowd. Parker's initially hesitant but understandable once Penelope explains the situation and plan. Once she's adequately reassured him, she leaves the library and ascends one of the manor's staircases — if they're going storm chasing, appropriate attire would be needed. As she walks, Penelope offers John a nod; a go-ahead for their plan. "Alright, but be careful! When you're Earthside, meet me at the garages. I'll bring the car around."

"Brains over-engineers everything." John flashes her that TracyTM smile, all white teeth and endless charm. "The Space Elevator should have no trouble with the current meteorological conditions." It might be a bumpier ride than John's used to, but he's got no doubt at all that Brains' engineering will land him safely. In fact, he seems to have been more shaken by the crack in Penelope's glass than at the thought of plummeting at 7.8 kilometers per second through a force ten gale.

Eos, busy clucking at him from up on the ceiling, seems more dubious, but, for a sentient AI who once nearly murdered him in open space, John thinks she worries far too much. He chivvies her into her mobile unit, and clips the circular device safely to his belt.

"Eta seventeen minutes." He tells Penelope, "see you on the ground."

John checks that he's finished sending out the bright, IR branded weather warnings to Penelope's guest list, then steps into the Space Elevator, flicking his fingers deftly over it's controls. The ride down from orbit is certainly rough, the whole cabin shaking around him, but it only ranks somewhere low in the top twenty of the worst reentries John's ever done. He sets the elevator neatly down on her lawn, as close as he can to the garages, and strides out; all long legs, pointy elbows and efficiency.

"Penelope." He greets with his hair swept back across his forehead, the short strands whipping about in the strong winds. He almost has to be shout to be heard over the wail of it.

Penelope, in contrast, looks stunning. As fastidiously put together as always; makeup flawless, blond hair meticulously coiled and pinned about her head, and her pink, silky cocktail dress pristine, curling almost elegantly around her legs in what, to her countenance, may as well have been a light breeze.

Gee, nothing ever really seems to ruffle Lady Penelope. Its one of John's favorite things about her.

He's got the telemetries for the epicenter of the storm pulled up on his wrist comm and he waves them at her like a bull rag.

"Lets go hunt down a weather drone."

[turtle-tot-tournament]

The Wild King By @mystic-findings-collection

Splinter would read to his sons every night before bed. Stories of cats in boots, science and animal facts, and fairy tales where unicorns and dragons reside. Over time however, Splinter had drifted away from them more and more, being too attached to mindless television to even look at them anymore. Leo seeks to change this, but once faced with troubling truth, he runs away to where the wild things are.

Yellow Skies By @super-weed-ninja

In this au, instead of being mutated directly into teens, the turtles mutate as young children. Splinter raises them alone until they're about 7, when they meet April O'Neil, an aspiring reporter looking for a good scoop to jumpstart her career. A little family of mutants living in the sewers might be the perfect story, if only she didn't up loving them like her own family.

(Art by @super-weed-ninja )

[lucifer-kane]

Adrift in seas with a violet dawn Where meaning dies in mazes long And waves ascend with bones and teeth You twist and turn beg for relief

[ancient-romes]

Since the shisno trilogy has been retconned can i just say i never actually believed in Locus redemption

[ladyinthebluebox]

[stillfruit]

i love not knowing if i'll ever be healthy again i love all of the time i've used to move my body become nothing i love spending my adulthood wasting away year after year for various reasons baby!

[ferberus-skull]

pixel cat's end i love you.

flight rising.... you're okay (joking, i love you too)

[medieval-canadian]

got breakfast at a campus tims before the exam. didn't realize until after i'd left that not a single thing in my order was taken down correctly

[skydigiblogs]

the dcg has given us so much

(thinking about the wild and wacky digivolution trees you can do because of how open dcg evolution is)

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

"[...]and... your family."

miklan is still alive in this route and is referenced immediately after this scene, he's literally telling sylvain to take care of miklan too

[shivunin]

do you ever run into a poem that fixes all your plot holes

[masquenoire]

Circe wasn't the first girl Roman kissed. He actually hit it off with another girl at the All Girl's Boarding School his parents sent him off to during his early teens, the two sneaking off for a bit of 'private fun' until the bullying incident occured where he lost his temper and glassed his tormentor's face.

[euclydya]

i am surw we've said this before but hannibal would absolutely kill me for food crimes and that's hilarious. love that 4 me

[kurthorton-moving]

me spending weeks going "and i probably cant afford the eras tour and thats okay i just have to deal with it" during my breakdowns vs. eras not even coming here and only doing 5 shows in australia so probably being impossible to get tickets to