moralambiguities-blog
WONDERFUL!
then suddenly i'm here. respected — worshipped, even. just because the folks in oz needed someone to believe in.OSCAR ROSARIO.MAYOR OF FABLETOWN.POINT COUNTER: 119
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WHEN: October 11.
WHERE: Oscar’s home.
WHO: Closed, ft. @goldi-locked.
So she gets out of work late. That’s fine, of course. He can work with late. It was a solid Friday night, after all, and it would be rather ridiculous of him to turn her down on the basis of not wanting to stay up past his proverbial bedtime. Besides, he did want to see her. Very much so, in fact. And he had told her that he would wait up for her, and so he intended to. Which is why he was sitting on the couch now, with a glass of bourbon in his hand, waiting up for her as he’d said he would.
He wasn’t entirely sure what she saw them as. Given the type of person she was, she could honestly go either way, looking at him as merely someone she slept with on a regular basis or someone she could see herself in a romantic relationship with. He hadn’t, ahem, seen anybody on a serious basis since before the Exodus -- And not in Oz, either. He contemplated the idea of dating, of being somebody’s boyfriend. It was a strange, foreign sort of thing that he’d assumed upon entering the position of Wizard had become an impossibility.
When he heard the door open, he smiled. Once she’d entered, he said, “I took the liberty of pouring you a drink -- I know whiskey isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I find myself indulging once in a while. How was work?”
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WHEN: October 9.
WHERE: The bookshop.
WHO: Closed, ft. @wndybird.
There was something about this place that was so easy to lose himself in. And in the amount of time since the Exodus, Oscar had a lot of reading to catch up on. On the Kansas prairie, there hadn’t been many books in his childhood home, and as plentiful in books as the kingdom of Oz was, you’d be hard pressed to find a tome of Keats or Shelley among the stacks of Ozian literature.
Which is why Oscar often finds himself deferring to the employees of the shop more often than not in these situations. After wandering among the stacks for a good while, no closer to finding a new read than he had been when he’d arrived, he sidled up to the front desk. He’d exchanged friendly hellos with the girl who stood behind the cash register before, but no extended conversation. Still, he smiled, and said, “I know you probably get this question a thousand times a day, but indulge me -- Are there any newer releases you’d recommend? I suppose I’m in the mood for something a bit lighter. Take my mind off work.”
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WHEN: October 10th.
WHERE: Castle of Dreams.
WHO: Closed, ft. @ellabellamy.
It was stupid of him to have even come here in the first place, but of course, where else could he and Marigold have gone? She lived here, and besides, they both knew this was the sort of place where nobody asked questions. Was it the illicit nature of a no-tell motel rendezvous that had turned their heads in the direction of the place? They’d spent the night at his place more than once, but still, nobody could deny there was a certain sense of getting away with something naughty that made him feel like a younger man when they had slipped into Marigold’s room.
She was long gone now, caught a cab to work and left him here, standing outside the building with his cell phone out (ostensibly to call a cab, but he was mindlessly scrolling through Twitter). The exuberance of being able to do this sort of thing had left him like an exhale, and in its place was the sad realization that maybe he was nothing more than a sad old man sneaking around with a girl half his age.
So busy in thought, and with his eyes directed downwards towards his cell phone, that he hardly notices practically crashing into somebody. Thankfully, he sidesteps just before it ends badly, but when he lifts his eyes and notices who it is, he lets out an awkward laugh. “Ella Bellamy,” he smiles, glad for some reprieve from a friendly face, albeit one he’d only spoken to a few times. “Sorry. Guess I wasn’t really looking where I was walking. I forgot you worked here.”
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oogieonthefritz.
There’s a thrill up Fritz’s spine every time Oscar dips himself into the black tar of the casino. He always looks uncomfortable, borderline disgusted, and yet he stays. He visits because it’s necessary. It’s that very necessity that tickles Fritz. The boogeyman can hardly contain himself. When he looks at Oscar through the smoke of his cigar, he’s all smiles and barely contained guts.
“Oh-ho, I bet you would,” he retorts, his voice a low, humorous hum. “Lookin’ like you need something good to keep you afloat, Oscar.”
His knuckles rapped at the door and their glasses are refilled with a learned quickness. Fritz could be patient, but it was a different situation when he was hosting friends.
“Is it what’s-her-face? The one with the hair?” He takes a pug of his cigar and blows it sideways, away from Oscar. “Ivy. That’s the one. Y’know, have you tried just nailing them to the wall? It couldn’t hurt to try. Wouldn’t hurt you, at least.”
Finally, he laughs in great, obscuring puffs of smoke.
“You’ve got a thankless job there, don’t you?”
“You could say that again.” He chuckles bitterly, taking a swig of his newly filled drink. That was damn obvious to anyone who had spoken to him for more than two seconds, that his job had its fair share of difficulty. Being the mayor wasn’t all glamour and glitz, much as sometimes he wished he could pretend otherwise.
At the suggestion about his deputy mayor, Oscar lets out another humorless burst of a laugh, shaking his head. Nailing her to the wall -- An idea, surely, and one that was rather characteristic of the style of the man in front of him. “That might work for you, Omdurman, but some of us prefer a somewhat more humane approach to dealing with our subordinates. It’s not always a matter of scaring them straight.”
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goldi-locked.
SENT 10/11, 1:33 PM.
( text: me → sucker ) I could get in without you ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ you really need better locks
SENT 10/11, 1:38 PM.
( text: me → sucker ) I’m working tonight, so I wouldn’t be there until late
SENT 10/11, 1:39 PM.
( text: me → sucker ) Wait up for me?
SENT, 10/11, 1:40 PM
( text: me → m. locke ) Alright, now you’re just messing with me.
SENT 10/11, 1:41 PM
( text: me → m. locke ) Acting like you’ve broken into my home before.
SENT 10/11, 1:43 PM
( text: me → m. locke ) Of course I will.
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[ BREAK MY CHARACTER’S HEART ] You helped a lost girl find her home. Her friends to see the truest things about themselves. You don't need magic or power to be a great leader, you just have to believe in the truth about yourself and remember how to help others see that too. You're doing a the best you can in a terrible place. Don't lose hope, believe in yourself and others will believe in you again too. You're doing great, Mr Mayor.
Sue him -- he’s suspicious. Such an outpouring of affection, apropos of practically nothing, could be sincere... but it could easily be an attempt to catch him off guard, to flatter him while covertly drawing a knife to stab him in the back. The mayor’s eyes narrow, and he has to carefully formulate his next sentence.
“Thank you,” is what finally comes out, followed by a brief flash of a smile that’s gone before you have much time to register that it even happened. “It’s always nice to meet a... fan.”
#ya didn't break his heart#but you sure confused the fuck out of him#* THE GREAT OZ KNOWS WHY YOU HAVE COME / asks.#Anonymous
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oscar rosario + text posts.
#i absolutely stole this concept wholesale from aslee#but yk what#this man cries out for some top tier fuckery edits#so here yall go#* A TRIBUTE TO OZ / graphics.
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Your legacy will be a coward's legacy.
There’s a moment where he considers the implications of those words. He’s had dreams since childhood of being remembered, being celebrated and admired and worshiped, and while those might not ever come to fruition, he can get as close as he can. If not in Oz, then here. Still, he plasters his signature wry smile on his face, barely glancing up when he finally does respond.
“My legacy will be whatever I want it to be.” Keep telling yourself that, Oz.
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green doesn't even look good on you
“That is... I mean-- you are... How dare you.”
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𝖌𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖎-𝖑𝖔𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖉.
UNSENT 10/11, 1:19 PM.
( text: me → sucker ) Maybe I shouldn’t.
UNSENT 10/11, 1:20 PM.
( text: me → sucker ) Will you be there?
SENT 10/11, 1:27 PM.
( text: me → sucker ) If you want to see me again all you have to do is ask, Oz.
SENT 10/11, 1:30 PM.
( text: me → sucker ) People would see if I came now. Don’t you have a reputation or something?
SENT 10/11, 1:32 PM
( text: me m. locke ) I’m not suggesting you show up at my door right now.
SENT 10/11, 1:32 PM
( text: me m. locke ) I’m not even at home.
SENT 10/11, 1:34 PM
( text: me m. locke ) However, if you were to drop by tonight to look for it, I wouldn’t be opposed.
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MARIGOLD & OSCAR
“ May you fall in love with someone who never gets tired of saving you from your own chaos. ”
#OH YEAH BABEY!!!!!!!!!!! OH YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!#G OOD SHIT#* A TRIBUTE TO TO OZ / graphics.#goldie tag tba.
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⊕ meme me up scottie ghirluzgjs
here u go! :D
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moodboard / briar & oscar.
( for @rvsethorned. )
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⊕ !!!!!
right here!
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moodboard / oscar + marigold.
( for @goldi-locked. )
#* A TRIBUTE TO OZ / graphics.#LMAO THIS TOOK ME WAY TOO LONG#BC I HAD TO IDEA HOW TO MESS WITH THE COLORS#BUT HERE U GO
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𝖌𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖎-𝖑𝖔𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖉.
SENT 10/11, 1:12 PM.
( text: me → sucker ) it’s diamond, and I didn’t steal it.
SENT 10/11, 1:12 PM.
( text: me → sucker ) It was a gift. Very sentimental.
SENT 10/11, 1:14 PM.
( text: me → sucker ) I won’t accept anything less than $100 for compensation.
SENT 10/11, 1:16 PM
( text: me → m. locke ) You’re really pushing this ‘paying you back’ thing, huh?
SENT 10/11, 1:18 PM
( text: me → m. locke ) If you want it back so badly, maybe you should swing by and get it yourself.
SENT 10/11 1:18 PM
( text: me → m. locke ) Seeing as it’s apparently so important to you.
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Send me a ⊕ for an aesthetic graphic for our muses.
Friendships & Romantic ships both acceptable !! If you’d like it to be as if our muses were in a relationship please add “love” after the symbol.
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