#oz babbles

[oz00ms2]

I will be completely normal and not at all 🥺 over buggy mimicking his dad's polka dots and hat.

[gctchell]

house call. [ starter call ] // @jizzlords

"You don't know what it means to me that you came all this way, baby bird. I know that we are a long ways from Lust, and you have a lot of food on your plate." Lilith's head was reclined against Asmodeus's arm, her hand just about vanished in the center of his gloved palm, but rested there just the same - and despite its size, her other cradled it from below, cupping a knuckle and supporting it. "I would have made the journey if I could, but I just haven't been feeling very well. I needed to see you."

Guilt laced Lilith's words, and the light in her eyes dimmed. He was such a busy man, she felt rotten putting him out like that. Seven years though, she reminded herself! Seven years of enforced non-communication, not even a text or an e-mail (Heaven's service is not really famous for its Infernal long distance calling) .. One little request for a visit was surely warranted. When she was back on her feet, she'd be the one popping by Ozzie's and the Palace without hesitation.

"Charlotte missed you a great deal. I thought you would be leaving with her forged to your side. ♪"

The Hotel was electric with the arrival of a Deadly Sin. He was invited by Lilith, but Charlie practically flew at him and stayed attached like a magnet for a majority of the visit until responsibility gently drew her away. One of the taller residents, who came in shades of pink, was particularly fawning over Ozzie whenever he got the chance, only to be detoured by Vaggie so that he did not steal the spotlight, which led to some squabbling as she practically dragged him from the room.

And then there was the little maid who looked like she fell in love from the first moment she saw him. Many sinners and demons alike swooned in the Sin's presence, and she now joined the ranks as she skittered through the vents, tracking the duo down the stairs. She stayed out of view, for now.. Geez, he was huge!

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

The day I finally cut out all the Marshal Mallow and China princess scenes from the Dorothy's return movie, the world will become a better place

[kung-fu-cutbug]

i'd rather stay on anon for The Bit but anon asks don't allow images so lol i guess i have to use my face now. i bet two bucks you guessed it was me anyway

the cat is sleeping happily.

I am blessed on this day 🥹

[bluishfrog]

hi Alli!!

~ Oz

Hi ozzzz! How's it going at the other end of the world?

[technowings]

Frustrated that I can't create like I want to, because the art's not acting.

Eating a container of cotton candy was probably NOT the best way to emotionally deal with it.

[keepthefrank]

i feel like starting hbo oz because i would like to be deranged and alive again (read: got too depressed for my current hyperfixation) BUT i’m also off of one of my antidepressants so i feel like this is a very dangerous line to be walking 🤐

[ln4bub]

Okay so how about 21+39 + Oscar. like seven minutes in heaven or spin the bottle situation. (Only if you want tho)

I saw this request and I just had to write it immediately, this fits Oscar so well

———————————————

Oscar was never really one for emotion, he was almost impossible to read. So when he reluctantly agreed to play Truth or Dare with you, Logan, Robert, Arthur, and a few of your female friends you were surprised. He was always a ‘stay in the corner and observe’ kinda guy, but now he was sat in a circle, an ice cold beer in his large hand.

“Y/N, it’s your turn.” Logan nudges you, forcing you to take your eyes off Oscar. “Oh, uh dare?” You say, doubting your own choice. It’s Arthur who speaks up, a devious smile on his face.

“I dare you to do that minutes in heaven thing that Logan had to do with a driver of your choosing.” He tells you, the smirk on his face suggesting that he expected himself to be picked.

You stand up, smoothing down your dress before walking over to Oscar and extending your hand. “You coming?” You ask, eyebrow quirked. “He hopes so.” Logan laughs, sending the circle into a fit of giggles. Oscar rolls his eyes before pulling himself up and grasping your hand in his, leading you away to the closet. Arthur trails behind the two of you, locking the door after you enter. “We’ll start a seven minute timer for you, if you want to leave early then knock on the door three times.” You and Oscar confirm that you’re good to go before you hear the soft pad of Arthur walking away.

The two of you are left illuminated by the pale yellow lighting of the closet. The shadows cast over Oscar’s face, revealing a gentle smile. “We, uh, we don’t have to do anything. I have no expectations of you and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Oscar rambles, his eyes avoiding yours.

“Oscar.” You say, attempting to interrupt his rant.

“I don’t want to assume that you picked me because you’re attracted to me, I mean don’t get me wrong I’d like to hope that that’s why but if it’s not that’s totally okay.” He continues.

“Oscar.”

“What?”

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

He freezes, lips parted and eyes wide. “You really want that? With me?” He asks. You giggle slightly at his reaction. “Why else would I pick you Oz?” You question, hand coming to cup the back of his neck. He leans in, your breaths mingling in the small space. His lips touch yourself, briefly and softly, but you know they’re there and you whimper, pushing your lips harder against him.

Once he senses your eagerness he’s quick to reciprocate it, his lips moving perfectly with yours. His hand comes to rest on your jaw, his tongue now sliding against your own.

“Oscar, we have seven minutes. Do something please.” You beg against his lips, causing him to groan in response and rest his forehead against yours. “You want me to touch you? To make you cum with everyone outside?” He asks teasingly, shocking you with this switch in demeanour.

“God yes please Oscar.” You whine, grinding your hips against his thigh resting between your legs. His large hand comes to rest under your dress, sliding your underwear to the side and feeling the slick gathering already.

“Is this what I do to you?“ He asks and you nod in response, unable to find words as his fingers find your clit. “Poor girl, you must be so needy. Desperate.” He whispers, placing kisses across your neck as your hand tangles in his hair. You pull lightly when his finger slips inside you, making him moan against your skin.

He curls his fingers against your walls, your back arching in pleasure as you let out a moan of his name. “Oh god, right there, fuck- please.” You babble incoherently as a second finger joins his first.

“So tight for me baby, I want you to cum on my fingers so I can lick them clean. Have the taste of you in my mouth for the rest of the night, d’you want that?” You barely comprehend Oscar’s words, his fingers moving at a rapid pace. Your moans become more high pitched, joined by the slick sounds of Oscar’s fingers moving in and out of you.

“So close Oscar, please, please, please.” You whine, grinding your clit against the palm of his hand as he continues his actions.

“I know Y/N, I know. Soak my hand for me come on, we haven’t got long.” He reminds you, hitting the spot that makes your legs turn to jelly. Your mouth drops open, a moan on the verge of slipping out before Oscar’s mouth covers your own. He muffles the loud moan of his name with his tongue, feeling your walls spasm around his fingers.

“There we go, good girl. Let it go f’me.” He tells you, slowing his fingers but continuing to draw the remnants of your orgasm from your body. When you’re spent he slides his fingers out, sucking them clean with a groan.

Arthur’s knock sounds and the lock clicks open. The two of you hastily pat down your hair and clothing before stepping back into the room. You’re a sight to behold, hair and lipstick messy, dress hitched slightly too high and legs trembling. Oscar’s not much better, flushed cheeks, ruffled hair and a sly grin on his face.

“So, what did you two besties get up to in there?” Logan asks, smirking as you both go beet red. “Didn’t sound like anything people who are ‘just friends’ do.” He adds, quirking an eyebrow. Arthur slaps his hands onto Oscar’s shoulders. “Right there Oscar, so good, oh god.” He mimics, everyone laughing at the way you both side eye each other in awkwardness.

Oscar grabs your hand, pulling you out of the party to finish what you had started. But not until he tells Logan that you’re not just friends, and now everyone knows it.

[beth-purcell]

Wanted to share drawings I've done of Captain Eos of the Land of Oz and the best bird beau a Good Witch could ask for.

He's based on an adopt I bought from @youronlydrpepper (which btw, go forth and adopt from them) and in the future I'll babble more about this guy :D

[pink-tk-a-latte]

FISCHL HCS bc she’s so lee but I can’t think of a fic for her rn 💜

A LOT of people tickle her when her tyrannical yapping becomes too much. Mona especially, bc she’s sick and tired of Fischl’s chuunibyou tomfoolery and thinks it’s funny how she screams and gets all indignant with one pinch

Traveler (Lumine in my case) just likes being a nuisance and will tickle her while she’s loquaciously orating, and they'll keep playing along with her act just to be a tease ;)

Like "Oh? Seems the element of laughter is super effective against the Prinzessin der Verurteilung!"

Or the Traveler remains mostly terse while Fischl is babbling and screeching her head off so it becomes silent ler vs. chatty lee tehe

When she's tickled Fischl absolutely loses all ability to form words, even German and fantastical ones, like it’s BAD and the contrast is HILARIOUS

She'll go from "Retreat, perverted miscreant! Mine eyes of darkness behold thy villainous intentions and exhort thee to stay away! S-Stay away..." to "STAahfahfhsahaHAf NAOOOOO!!"

Also her laugh is squeaky, girlish, whiny, and snorty and not at all dignified or macabre.

Bennett prob doesn’t tickle her as much, mostly cuz he never thinks to, but when she unleashes the onslaught of a thousand fingers once again one day he FINALLY thinks to tickle her back.

Ofc, with his luck, he gets all the wrong spots and gets wrecked as a result. It’s probably Razor accidentally sweeping his hair across her neck that reveals it to him.

She's on the ace spectrum. That's not tk-related but it's still an hc!!

Occasionally Fischl will ask to be tickled but because of her verbose language no one can understand what she's saying TT

Lisa I bet tickles her whenever she comes to the library, especially when she would come alone and shrunken in on herself and in such strange attire. She also quotes lines from Fischl’s favorite storybooks and theatre scripts while wrecking her lmaooo

(SUMMER FANTASIA WAS EPIC anyway) Xinyan would sporadically poke her or “strum” her sides whenever she seemed down or distant, leading to a lot of tk fights. Kazuha too, except his attacks would be more deliberate and malevolently soft.

Fischl also def babysits Klee sometimes and tickles her when reading or telling her stories cuz Klee is adorable ♡

Fischl and Xingqiu would be such good friends ANYWAY I'm sure it came up once when they were reading together. Fishxing are both so competitive and prideful so their attacks often end in fights often end in begrudging draws.

Oz definitely rats her out to anyone who seems affectionately exhausted with her antics. Whatever happened to loyalty??

There seems to be a common hc that Genshin characters with skin exposed in their outfits are more ticklish on those spots, and who am I to change that? Anyway, she’s most ticklish under her arms, in the crooks of her elbows and knees, and on her legs, sides, and back/shoulder blades (also where her vision is!) like she has so much fishnet and nylon in her ensemble she’s got to be so tickly (haha get it fischnet??)

On the ler side of things, she’s got long nails, archers’ hands, and an electro bird, so… >:)

[whotfletamothhyperfx]

(I have a theory. Let's see if I'm on the right track.)

Is this like the original Wizard of Oz movie where the people Dorothy/Tails meets are reflections of real people from back home?

Not exactly Tails dosent know anyone like them back home on Westside. It’s more just they remind him of made up friends he used to talk about when he was younger. He always used to babble about some fantasy land that was his home and all the people that he knew there. But it was just all in his imagination!

When they first found him on the side of the road where his parents abandoned him he wouldn’t be quiet about OZ and how he needed to get back to his big brother but he must have hit his head or something when he was abandoned. Sure he daydreams about it sometimes while he tends the farm but it’s all just dreams.

I mean it’s not like a place called OZ with witches and wizards and magical emeralds that protect you exists! Right?

[oz00ms2]

having untethered very divergent au thoughts of marine!buggy who joined after he thought he was abandoned during a ship battle by his captain and is now running on spite and the desire to capture shanks out of some sense of broken heart justice for being abandoned. (seeing Roger's execution only rips his heart open more)

but in truth the crew thought he was killed in action and shanks never forgave himself for not saving his best friend. so they have this known rivalry where buggy tries to arrest shanks and somehow it never happens but shanks seems to have a great deal of fun when his old friend is in sight.

(his shirt suddenly gets much more unbuttoned than it was before buggy's ship appeared on the horizon)

+ I believe buggy would be a very popular marine, he's incredibly good at recruiting new sailors because he's charismatic and his bravado is infectious. the men *love* him.

he wouldn't have eaten the chop chop fruit in this divergence so he'd rely on his fancy foot work and incendiary devices.

so a marine buggy would be covered in bombs and be called Captain Fire-Bug 🔥 because I love a pun. and this would also just be v attractive to me.

[cartoon-buffoon]

(Uh just in case) TW: Suicide & Guns

Problem with drawing this was HET's posing since it's supposed to be him reaching over Oswald to grab the gun, now this would be fine if not for both characters obviously having black bodies so you can see I kinda went crazy with the white outlines. Also for the hole on the side of Euthenasia's head: it annoys me how in WI the gun misfires and it blows out his eye, the problem is at that angle it has NO SHOT (heh, shot) of hitting his eye so I always imagined it just went in through his skull and ricocheted out his socket

Oh and here's a short little story/exchange between the two that's related to this drawing for my AU of HET & Euthenasia if you care and wanna read it that is ↓ (warning: lots of vulgarity & of course suicide being the main focus)

Euthenasia trembled and stared down the skull faced feline who had a firm grip on his gun "let it go Felix, I can't miss again" he exclaimed, finger still on the trigger "there's only one bullet left in the chamber"

Het ignored the buck's commands and spoke calmly in his raspy voice "Oz, put the gun down before you hurt yourself"

"haha! No shit Sherlock! That's the FUCKING point!" Euthenasia grit his teeth and clicked the hammer back "GET LOST AND LET ME DO THIS!"

Het tightened his grasp on the gun, ready to divert the barrel elsewhere if Euthenasia tried anything "listen, you unloaded 5 bullets into my skull!" He tapped the side of his head and pointed at the cracks the rabbit gave him "now I don't care really, I've been hurt far worse than some silly little bullets, but if you miss your shot you're gonna blow out your other eye, now put it down because I really don't wanna wear a vest reading 'seeing eye cat' for the rest of my fucking life"

"I won't miss if you just let go!"

"If I gotta live in this shit hole so do you! I know life ain't fair yet you just can't fuck off and die because of it!" Het hissed.

"oh you're a comedian now! Ain'tcha!? A real funny man! Because I find it so funny you constantly say I would be better off dead, but here you are! The one trying to stop me!" Euthenasia used his other hand to wave it in Het's face "the walking contradiction! Which is it now? Huh? Should I pull the trigger or not!?"

"...." Het stayed silent, his skull showing no emotion other than a permanent smile plastered onto it.

"oh! Does the kitty cat not have a smartass remark this time around!?" Euthenasia took a step closer to the cat his hand holding the gun making the entire thing shake like a blender "what's next from the hypocrite? Why don't you start to babble on your psychopathic bullshit hmm? See if that'll convince me not to do it! Heck maybe if you're lucky instead of dying I'll start seeing things from your fucked up point of view! I bet you'd like that, huh?"

If Het could scowl, this would be the moment he would of "Alright prick, stop attacking me and focus on yourself" Het spun Euthanasia around and made him gaze at his own reflection "Look in the mirror for a second...do you think Ortensia would wanna see you like this?"

Oswald glared up at the cat who was still holding the barrel of his gun and being the one thing stopping him. Slowly lowering his gaze his eyes fell onto the mirror in front of him. The dim light in the room obscured most of the surroundings yet he could still see his clear as day his broken visage. Gun pressed to his head, mouth stuck in a crooked smirk, eye spasming out and twitching, even his empty socket was leaking a trail of bloody tears that stained his white fur. Instead of his own appearance being the thing that snapped him out of it, it wasn't—rather the image of Het's face. Several cracks running across the feline's skull caused by bullets bouncing off it was what made Euthenasia snap out of his rage induced haze and finally come to his senses.

Euthenasia's grip slowly faltered on the gun as his eye was fixed on the mirror "oh god..."

"well looks like me being a pain your ass actually helped for once, ain't that neat?" Once Euthenasia let go, Het released the firearm and let it clatter to the ground "heh, you know it's bad when I'm the voice of reason here"

Euthenasia turned around and faced Het, seeing what he did even more clearly "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry"

"what for?" Het noticed the buck staring at the cracks across his skull "oh yeah, well that's what bullets do after all, I'm just thankful I'm such a hardhead otherwise they would of probably done a lot worse" Het knocked on his dome trying to lighten the mood

Euthenasia didn't say a word and wrapped his arms around Het and brought him into a hug. Het tensed up at the touch although after hearing some quiet sobs come from the rabbit he slowly leaned into it. The cat was unsure on what to do with his hands, apart of him wanted to hug back yet everything else told him otherwise, eventually he just rested his arms to the side and let out a sigh.

"a thank you would of worked just as fine"

Oswald remained quiet and tightened the hug, still choking down sobs.

"... Your welcome, Ozzie... you're welcome"

[smytherines]

can you sing?????? sorry this is really out of pocket and i mightve hallucinated this but i swear to god u said u did a drama program that did a musical every year and now i need to know if you're a triple threat (writer artist and singer)

I don't sing as well as I used to, I'm badly out of practice for anything other than karaoke, but yes I can sing!

I did a community theatre program in my area from ages 8 to 18, and it saved my life. It was split into a company for kids, and one for teens. So until 13 I did two shows and (sometimes) one musical per year, and then from 13 on we would do two shows per year, one musical, and then we would work tech for the two kids company shows. We also had two semesters of acting classes, one in the fall and one in the spring.

So I've done pretty much everything but spotlight (you could not pay me enough, spot operators are heroes). I've been a stage manager, prop master, I particularly loved doing sound because they let us make our own preshow mixes and I'd put way too much effort into mine. We were just a little community theatre, so we didn't do big name expensive license shows, but I played the Tin Man in Oz! And had to sing an incredibly weird song that starts with the line come on and lubricate my mouth (I swear to god I am not making that up). Actually kind of a banger though, and I got to sing at the low end of my range for once.

We had a professional vocal coach at the theatre program, but also my mother took vocal lessons for years and was a singer in a local band for about a decade, so I had a lot of help developing my voice early on. When I auditioned for the school choir the director told me he could really put me anywhere and I'd do well, but he only had 8 altos so that's where I went.

My biggest non-musical role was playing Jo March in Little Women, where I was onstage for 120 pages out of a 126 page script. I am very much a Jo March, like to the point where everyone just took it as a given I would get the role before auditions even happened, even though I was not usually cast as the heroine. I almost always got cast as a villain or the most over the top energetic characters, like I played Ms. Minchin in A Little Princess, most of the eccentric bit parts in The Man Who Came to Dinner (Banjo, Grand Duchess Olga Katrina, more I can't remember)

Sorry I'm babbling so much!! I don't get to talk about my theatre days very often, so I get excited! But that's why I love analysizing character and acting choices so much. I used to fill notebooks with lore about the characters I played. There's just something very interesting to me about using all these little... data points (?) to build a person. Like- if I was experiencing this emotion, how would my eyebrow move? What would my lips be doing, what would my hands be doing, how would that emotion affect my voice and body language. It's something I do all the time as an autistic person anyways, so acting almost felt like research to me.

Okay I'll shut up now, sorry I did an essay!!

[prose-for-hire]

i have a scenario one… spike or oz goes to the bronze and the bartender is late for their shift so they just throw one of the servers (who is kinda awkward) in the pit to try and help but they have no idea what they are doing they only know how to crack open a beer and people keep asking for cocktails and (spike or oz) chat and try to help them through it or at least make them feel better

A/n: I chose Oz! Hope that’s okay, love! Thanks for this one I really enjoyed it !! Warning for a swear word at the end couldn’t resist lol 💖

It was two for one cocktail night. And the bartender who insisted that the Bronze introduced cocktail night was doing his usual disappearing act.

He hadn’t shown up for his shift, he was more than two hours late. You had muttered that he had better be dead or he has no valid excuses left to use.

You knew it wasn’t really very nice to joke about that sort of thing especially in Sunnydale but you were about 99% sure he was a vampire anyway. You never saw him in daylight.

Either way, the manager had all but grabbed you round the collar and threw you at the bar. You didn’t know the first thing about making drinks and it looked like it might not be something you could learn in a night.

To make matters more embarrassing the guy you had feelings for was sat at the bar when you walked up. Oz.

You had met him at a few gigs and he was a regular at the Bronze but he wasn’t much of a talker so you tended to fill the silence with a running commentary that just turned to babble. You got on well though, you had plenty of shared interests.

Now he was watching you frown at the liquor that confronted you as a bunch of young people jostled behind the bar and shouted hundreds of orders at you.

You greeted him when you noticed him looking and beamed at him when he ordered a beer. A beer, you could do. But when it came to the cocktails? This was going to be a mess.

You had a book to refer to and you tried to set to work. You just about got away with the first couple of orders. You convinced someone to help you behind the bar who was just as clueless as you but could help tackle the demanding customers.

When things settled down a bit, you even had the chance to chat to Oz a little.

“Cranberry”

“You ordered a beer! They don’t do cranberry beer… do they?” He smiled softly at your panicked question, shaking his head slightly.

“You’re missing cranberry in there” he pointed at the glass you had spent ten minutes remaking when you shook the contents onto the floor.

“Oh, right! Yeah, I… I knew that”

The girl came up and shouted in your face just as you added cranberry to her drink. She took one sip and screamed until the whole place went still and stared in your direction. She clearly wasn’t a fan of your attempt.

After she stormed away, you were already attempting another cocktail unsure whether to say anything to the guy at the end of the bar about what had just happened. You didn’t want to make an awkward situation more awkward.

“Tough crowd tonight” Oz offered before you could think of a suitable thing to say, you smiled in relief and he nodded. He took a sip of his beer as he watched you.

After a while you got into a rhythm. Oz spent a lot of time in bars, it came with the territory of being in a band. He listed off the ingredients and you hurriedly tried to combine them with minimal spillages.

You noticed he had finished his beer a while ago and didn’t order another. He was sitting there just to spend time with you.

He made you laugh, telling you about the worst experiences he had at gigs around the state and made comments to make you feel better about the cocktails.

He spoke a lot more than usual, perhaps it was the beer or to make you feel better or maybe it was also that he had decided he would finally ask you out.

Eventually the bartender arrived and you were too happy to get out from behind the bar to listen to his anger about the mess you had made with broken glass and half made cocktails.

You ducked under the bar and stood beside Oz, theatrically wiping your brow which made that cute half-smile of his appear on his face. It was rare but you loved it when he smiled that way.

“Wanna get a drink?”

“Anything but a fucking cocktail” you laughed, nodding enthusiastically.

He smiled at you, a dreamy look on his face as he did. You were the one. He had never been more sure.

[mushroompollution]

Going Out

Finally, the day of Elliot's date with Marcel had come. And it's nothing like the uptight, formal events that his sister always set up, with suitors vetted and handpicked more for the interest of the Nightray family than the man himself.

Marcel had asked him to see a local band playing at a small, rather exclusive club in Reveil. While the idea of being in the middle of some sweaty crowd did nothing to appeal to the asocial lord, the promise of good music did intrigue him. Once upon a time, he'd gone to a couple concerts with his big brother Ernest. And though they'd been far from the common masses in their VIP section, the energy of the screaming fans hadn't been wasted on him. That was years ago, now. Maybe it was time to try a more intimate setting. After a bit of prodding from his valet, Elliot had finally agreed.

Conversation on the ride into town starts out a bit awkward. This is his first time on a date that wasn't arranged by his family, so he isn't quite sure what he's doing, Marcel admits. And Elliot gives a short, loud laugh. Hey. Him too.

They'd both been avoiding bringing up shallow, immature interests like graphic novels until that point. Old habits of formal courting. But once that bottle is uncorked, along with some wine with dinner, they fall into jovial conversation. Unlike Oz, Marcel's opinions on the characters and plots seem to fall more or less along the same lines as Elliot's. There are no heated debates, no name calling or fists flying. Just a lot of excited "I know, right?"s drawing looks from the other patrons of the stuffy, upscale restaurant.

Which makes the loud, dark club seem less unappealing by the time they arrive, about halfway through the opener's set. They're both awkward at first. Neither of them have ever been somewhere like this before. Elliot orders for them at the bar, doing his best to act confident as he remembers the name of the drinks that Vincent had bought during that festival. They linger at the back of the crowd, minding their personal space. Elliot out of pride, Marcel of shyness.

But as the pulsating of the loud music reverberates in their chests, and a couple more drinks loosen their inhibitions and nerves, the two get swept into the sea of people. By the time the main act takes the stage, they find themselves at the front of the crowd.

And there, in the last place he would expect it, surrounded on all sides by so many people, all bouncing to the beat and the flow of the music, Marcel at his side, Elliot realizes

He's having fun.

The show seems to last forever and still end too soon. Marcel nods toward the bar for one last round. Elliot taps the melody from one of the songs on the counter as they wait for their Uber back to the university. They babble on about their favorite parts of the show. And of course, their opinions are more or less the same.

They're still laughing together as they climb into the back of the Uber. The car has barely started moving before Marcel looks up at him with a red face. Elliot's own face feels hot. He feels nervous. Oh god, he's only done this once before, and that was something chaste and reserved. A formality at the end of a romantic business proposal.

Marcel's big, brown eyes sparkle in the streetlights they pass, and Elliot can't take it anymore. He leans over and grabs the other man by his collar. Their lips meet, and immediately that bashfulness is forgotten, melting away as their kiss heats up. Their hands roam, and Elliot's strong fingers knot themselves in Marcel's curly hair. They gasp and grasp at each other with hungry, desperate abandon. Marcel is in his lap as the car passes the gates of Lutwidge University.

The two separate as their ride comes to an end, clearing throats and straightening clothes, only to grin and blush at every glance in the other's direction. Still, they try their best to ignore their trembling legs and carry themselves with dignity as they stumble out of the back seat. After all, they are still both scions of their respective noble families.

As the car leaves, they turn to each other with red faces and a few "so's" and "yeah's".

He wasn't sure what to expect, but this was pretty fun, Elliot admits. Marcel agrees. It was better than he ever could have expected. Elliot agrees. And then Marcel's gaze lingers, his fingers fidget, like he's considering something.

"You know my um. My roommate stays off campus on the weekends..."

It takes a second for those words to really process in Elliot's addled mind. But as the implications of that little statement seep in, Elliot feels his stomach twist.

"I." He swallows thickly. Closes his eyes for a second, brows knitting together as his expression changes. He shoves his hands into his pockets. "I should really go check on Leo."

Marcel's hopeful, nervous smile fades. The disappointment in his reaction is palpable. "He's an adult too, I think he'll understand," he presses, and his timid voice sounds uncharacteristically annoyed.

Elliot feels himself frown. There's a famous, impassioned rant bubbling under the surface, but he sighs it away instead. "Look, I'm sorry. But I. Think I've had enough firsts for one night."

Marcel looks hurt. Embarrassed. And something else. He apologizes, but he turns his red face away.

Ah geez. Now he feels bad. Elliot reassures him it was a great time. He doesn't regret a thing.

"Can we do this again?"

Elliot hesitates. But he smiles as he says, "Yeah."

They walk back to the dorm together, chatting a little light, awkwarx chatter about the night, but otherwise quiet. Marcel's room is a floor below Elliot's, and they say their goodbyes with a final, small kiss in the stairwell.

As he continues up the stairs another flight, though, Elliot's smile gives way to his usual scowl.

Marcel's proposal had surprised him. Even after standing up for himself, the other student had always seemed so shy. And making such a request on the first date, well to the chivalrous lord Nightray was simply...

"Shameless," he mumbles under his breath. But not just Marcel. Himself, too. He's gotten carried away in the car and given his date the wrong idea about him. How unrefined.

Still... Marcel's reaction had been a little shitty, hadn't it? Elliot thinks as he walks down the hall.

Then again, maybe he had spent a little too much time talking about Leo tonight. And every time the valet came up, Marcel's engagement seemed to dwindle.

Maybe I was kinda rude too, Elliot thinks as he approaches the room he shares with Leo. Who he finds sitting up in bed with a book against his knees when he opens the door.

"you're home awful late.❁" Leo chirps with that usual, smug smile.