Open Post

[just_displaced]

Voice / Text / Video / Action

This is Ginzo's open post. Anything goes.

Comments

[loveandlanguish]

Oh my, yes. But really that's just when things get interesting.

[Maybe he enjoys watching mortals do stupid things a little too much, so sue him.]

'sides, there's always things to do while you're waiting. Watch television. Write a terrible sex book. All sorts of things.

[just_displaced]

I like watching television okay, but you can't do that for the rest of your life, even if you're the kind of guy -- and I am -- who likes to yell at the characters on television for their stupid decisions.

And I'm not writing a terrible sex book.

[loveandlanguish]

I bet you'd do brilliant at it. It can't be any worse than that shit.

[Yes, he's glaring at the book all the way across the room now. He's slightly regretting chucking it away because he wants to find more horrible quotes to get Ginsberg flustered with, and standing up is pretty much entirely out of the question, at the moment. He had to use all of his not subtle tactics to get them into this comfortable position, he's not messing it up now.]

[just_displaced]

I'd have to make everything up. I have no personal experience to draw from.

[Yep, he really just admitted that. Oh well.]

On the other hand, maybe that's not a prerequisite for writing something that bad.

[loveandlanguish]

I'm not certain the author in question's ever been at the receiving end of a good cuffing, either. There might be fewer dancing goddesses, if she had.

[Oliver could pretend to be surprised by that particular admission but... it doesn't exactly contradict the clues he's had so far.]

You could write an excellent book on cuddling, you're very good at that.

[just_displaced]

I don't actually think anybody would read a three hundred page book about cuddling.

[He might read it, come to think of it. He probably wouldn't write it, though.]

You're good at cuddling, too. I mean, as far as I can tell. I don't have an extensive list of cuddlers to compare you to, but you're making it surprisingly tolerable to be stuck in here, so I'm pretty sure that means you're good at it.

[loveandlanguish]

Thank you. 'Surprisingly tolerable' is exactly the sort of feedback I was looking for.

[just_displaced]

Well, you're more than surprisingly tolerable. The room isn't, though. It's been upgraded from "oh god I'm going to die" to "surprisingly tolerable," though, so that's pretty impressive, right?

[loveandlanguish]

Well, I am very good, so it's fair enough.

[Just saying. The cuddles are the real magic. He's pleasantly surprised his arm hasn't gone to sleep yet, actually, but it does mean he can settle his arm around his waist comfortingly.]

[just_displaced]

[Oh, arm around his waist. That means he can lean his head on Oliver's shoulder, right? That's allowed.]

We probably can't cuddle forever, though. I mean, eventually you'll get sick of it.

[loveandlanguish]

Yes, probably. Warning you now, though, it may take ages.

[The head on his shoulder is totally allowed, you can stay there for a bit. Oliver's just going to sort of rub his beardy chin on the top of Ginsberg's hair because it really is amusing how floofy it's getting.]

[just_displaced]

That's okay. I've never actually cuddled with someone long enough for them to get sick of it, so that's kind of a new and exciting experience.

[Why is his beard the best thing ever? Why is Ginsberg so fascinated by his beard? Nobody knows.]

[loveandlanguish]

[Because of magical beard-related powers, of course.]

Well let me know if you get sick of it, first.

[Settling back and closing his eyes, yep. He's far too comfy not to.]

[just_displaced]

Mmhmm. I'll let you know.

[He's definitely closing his eyes, too. Not like he's tired or anything. Just resting for a second.]

[loveandlanguish]

[He does manage to doze off for a bit, the sort of half-asleep daze you tend to fall into when it's the middle of the day and you have another person half-draped across your chest. Although seeing as this room doesn't have any windows, he really has no idea what time of day it is. He certainly has far less of an idea when he blinks himself awake some time later. It may have been minutes or hours, for all he knows.

Sometimes he really regrets not owning a watch.]

[just_displaced]

[Ginsberg owns -- and is actually wearing -- a watch, but he's apparently fast asleep, so if Oliver wants to check the time he'll either have to wake him up or very carefully pull his arm closer to look at his watch. Either way, it's kind of a miracle that he's sleeping at all. He'll probably wake up in a couple seconds.]

[loveandlanguish]

[He is just going to fumble for Ginsberg's wrist, pulling it closer to squint at bleary-eyed with little consideration for the arm attached to it.

7pm. That would be more useful if he remembered what time it was when they feel asleep.]

[just_displaced]

[Yep, that wakes him up. He startles a little, having apparently forgotten that he was trapped in a windowless room and cuddling with another guy.]

Still locked?

[Apparently he's remembered about the door being locked fast enough.]

[loveandlanguish]

Haven't checked yet.

[He's still just staring at his watch, pulling it closer to take a better look and probably sort of yanking Ginsberg half on top of him in the process.]

I wish you had dates on this thing, too.

[just_displaced]

Well, shit, sorry my watch doesn't measure up to your exacting standards.

[It's not exactly hard to tug him around, considering how much shorter and smaller he is than Oliver, and so he's easily pulled halfway on top of him. And tries his hardest to be nonchalant about it.]

[loveandlanguish]

Remember what time we fell asleep? It's seven now.

[He'll pay attention to how much he's manhandling you around as soon as the much more important aspect of what day it is is cleared up. Just enjoy your perch while you're here.]

[just_displaced]

Around four, I think. That's the last time I checked my watch.

[And he does check his watch frantically when he's locked in a room.]

[loveandlanguish]

Hmm, nice little nap, then.

[He drops Gineberg's arm at last. Oh, now he notices the smallish mustached man on his chest.]

Hello there.

[just_displaced]

[Did you really not notice him before? He looks a bit amused and a bit befuddled. But he's not going to go anywhere unless Oliver's kicking him off.]

Hi.

[loveandlanguish]

[What, there was more important things to take care of first.]

Comfy?