So @danielhowell, you said your wish for your birthday was to be alone and eat a lot of food. Since I can neither send you a cake nor teleport you to a deserted island, i drew you in a swimming pool surrounded by delicious food. Have a fantastic day!
(No reposting please; reblogging is appreciated of course ♥)
I honestly wouldn’t mind if someone wanted to be my internet friend? I wouldn’t mind random late skype calls or staying up/ waking up early to catch up with different time zones? I wouldn’t mind sending funny pictures? I wouldn’t mind staying by your side and listening when you have hard times? I wouldn’t mind laughing until my stomach hurt over jokes that really aren’t that funny. If you like any of the things/people I put in the tags, don’t be afraid to message me :)
phil says them and a few friends are going to meet for dinner somewhere because they cancelled on his original meal. except dan said they had gone out to eat with their friends in his liveshow for sushi,
Hey, Sea. Would you mind if I asked to hear what you seem to take from Louis' body language/facial expressions during his "denial" of Larry for DW (S*N). I find it a bit transparent, but since you go more in depth, I'd like to know what you think about it.
I finally watched this bit of theater. So, here it goes:
1. This wasn’t the first take, I don’t think. Louis is talking fast, the words tumble out, the ideas come one after the other. It’s been scripted; that’s why it’s on video rather than live. The gestures seem rehearsed and acted. “Obviously” with the eye roll, holding up an iPhone when he says “iPhone”– who does that in real life? It’s a sit-com, “acting,” gesture… it’s what you see television actors do (even comedic movie actors don’t do this because it’s transparent and clichéd). Louis appears annoyed– not annoyed at the question, just annoyed that he has had to do this segment multiple times, maybe.
2. The lack of eye contact throughout. The way he says “people I love, such as Eleanor.” It’s weird. Isn’t she the only one who should feel disrespected, at the moment? To lump her into a group seems– very formal, very stand-off-ish. For example, if my husband said, “A birthday was given to me by people I love, my wife, for example,” when I was the only one who threw him the party? It’s just odd.
3. Why not just straightaway say, “I know people enjoy ships, but it’s not real and never has been real. I’m so sorry. We’re just good friends.”? Done. Put to rest. Instead this talk of conspiracies– which is very reminiscent of 1DHQ. And the “genuinely.” Reminds me of “some people genuinely think…” Seems like we know who wrote the script.
Anyway those are the few things I noticed. Dan is a vomit basin and smells like bad sushi.
There’s something to be said about early mornings. She doesn’t have many charitable things to mention about it–waking up before noon is considered a sin in her eyes–but there’s something…peaceful about the pre-dawn mornings in Los Santos.
Maybe it’s the stillness outside, birds barely begun to wake and few cars blaring their horns miles below their high rise penthouse. Or maybe it’s the pale sunlight just beginning to filter in through their blinds, casting the room in a soft, washed out hue. Or maybe it’s just the stillness around her–Penny and the cats sleeping restfully, furry limbs strewn across all corners of the bed, alarms all mercifully shut off and electronics set to their dimmest settings, her boys sound asleep, the only noises coming from them snuffles and Dan’s soft snoring. She grins.
She can’t say she expected to find herself in this position. When she had moved to Los Santos all those years ago, she’d been a naive girl with her eyes set on grandeur, with some hope of erasing her past as she took the city by storm. She scoffed at the concept of love, weaponized the idea and used it to her advantage on marks, knowing exactly what her red hair and a gorgeous backless gown did to those with weaker resolve. And yet.
She turns her head up to look at Dan, grinning even wider when she sees his mussed hair and slightly agape mouth, a small line of drool trickling out. She stifled a snort at the sight–the mark of a truly jet-lagged man. She’d missed him while he was away, a trip to talk with some weapons dealers in Liberty City that was immediately followed by a flight across the pond for some SMG matters she couldn’t recall had kept him away from them for far too long. She’d missed his warmth and steadiness, his bright smile and raspy laugh and tight hugs. His ability to make a complete mess just somehow feel infinitely better. They could’ve used a bit of that, this past week. She shakes her head, burrowing into his shoulder. She kisses his collarbone and he snorts a little in his sleep, shifting slightly before settling.
Gavin stirs a bit at the shift, eyes scrunching, brow furrowing fitfully before smoothing out again. He nuzzles into Dan’s chest and reaches out blindly for her hand. She grabs it, threads their fingers together, and kisses the knuckles. His lips twitch unconsciously and he relaxes with a sigh. It takes all her willpower not to lean across Dan and give him a chaste kiss. She doesn’t want to risk waking him, he hasn’t been getting enough sleep as is. This last week had been hard on them, so say the least, but especially on Gavin. Pure exhaustion brought upon by an overload of work reached its climax with a deal gone wrong. He was lucky he made it out alive, much less with just a graze and some extensive contusions. She rubs her thumb across his knuckles. Too close. Too fucking close.
She shuts her eyes tightly. This is why she hates waking up early, too much time alone with her thoughts. She feels Dan’s arm tighten around her and she relaxes; she didn’t even realize she had tensed up. She looks back up at him, slightly surprised to see gorgeous, half-lidded brown eyes peering back at her.
“Mornin’,” he rasps, quietly.
“Wouldn’t go that far,” she whispers back, with a pointed glance at the clock. He follows her gaze and makes a face, burying his face in her hair with an almost inaudible whine.
“Damn you jet lag.”
She turns her head up to kiss his cheek, but he turns at the last second, kissing her lips with a grin. She breaks it a second later, fondly exasperated.
“Your morning breath is disgusting.”
“I thought it wasn’t morning yet,” he responds cheekily, drawing her in closer.
“Just for that, I’m not making you breakfast.”
“B’ll make me–” Dan cuts off his usual retort to look down at the man still sleeping soundly on his chest. Dan takes a breath, fingers moving to skitter across Gavin’s bare back, gently skimming the worst of the bruises and the edge of the surgical tape and gauze pressed against Gavin’s side. It’s silent for a few beats before Dan whispers, “I should’ve been there. I should’ve been with him.”
“Don’t,” Meg snaps instantly. “You were halfway across the world–”
“If anyone should’ve been there, it should’ve been me.”
Dan sighs, “you were luv. You went after them.”
“You bet your fucking ass I did,” she mutters darkly, remembering with pride and sick satisfaction as she hunted down every single one of those fucks, broke out her good knives to really drive home the point: the Golden Boy, their Golden Boy, was off limits.
A kiss to the top of her head breaks her out of her reverie. Dan looks at her with a soft look, warm and fond and proud, she can feel herself flush in response.
“I love you,” he whispers. He leans down for a kiss and this time, she doesn’t deny him. She grazes her teeth against his bottom lip, grinning when he inhales sharply.
“Without me? Weak,” a voice croaks near Dan’s shoulder, startling them enough to break apart. They both turn to Gavin simultaneously, and he gives them a sleepy smirk in response. “Was I interrupting something?”
“Spoiled twat,” Dan snaps, but the wide grin belies the harshness of the insult. Gavin hums in response, angling his head for a kiss of his own. Dan obliges readily, kissing him deeply and ending the kiss to press their foreheads together. “Scared the shite outta me, you know that? Bastard.”
“B, it was fine B.”
“Yeah?” Dan raises an eyebrow and gently pokes one of his bruises, snorting when Gavin’s attempt to stifle the pained grunt is unsuccessful.
“Turney, Dan’s being a tosspot,” he whines then, gripping Meg’s hand tightly and turning those glittering green eyes towards her.
Meg shakes her head, hiding a grin. “Not even a kiss before you start bitching to me? I see how it is, Gavino.”
“Aw Turney, lovely Turney,” he sits up on his elbow with minimal groaning and leans across Dan to press a kiss to her cheek. “Saved you from my morning breath.”
“Aaaand, that’s why you’re my favorite.”
“Aw what! Weak!” Dan whines.
Gavin gives him his patented smug look and collapses back against his side with a grunt. Dan immediately buries his hand in Gavin’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Gavin hums happily, closing his eyes.
“What’re you lot doing up anyway? Both being up ‘fore noon is a sign of the damn apocalypse.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Meg sighs and cuddles further against Dan. “Would totally be willing to try again though. Geoff gave us the week off anyway; we have no where to be.”
Gavin grumble of “I don’t need the bloody week off” is largely ignored by both his partners.
“Let’s go for sushi,” Dan suggests excitedly. “That place by the pier.”
“That sounds lush! Let’s make it a beach day; it’s been too long since we went for swimmies.”
“If you get your stitches wet, you’re dealing with Caleb on your own,” Meg warns. Gavin shrugs dismissively as she sighs fondly. “Fine, beach day it is.”
“Class,” Gavin whispers. His bruises stick out in the pre-dawn glow, making him seem more fragile, breakable. Human. Less the coveted Golden Boy, and more the easy-going, intelligent prat that stole both their hearts without an ounce of effort. Dan smiles and runs his hand through Gavin’s hair again.
“Go on back to sleep, B. It’s still–” he breaks off to yawn. “Hours away.”
“You too, jet lagged baby,” Meg pulls on his ear, rolling her eyes at his betrayed look.
“And you luv, honestly I’m worried for your health. Before noon?” Gavin mumbles, eyes closed. She scoffs in response, reaching out to tweak his nose. He scrunches up, but falls asleep soon after, Dan and Meg looking on fondly.
Dan kisses the top of his head, and then hers before settling, dropping off soon after. Meg stays up a bit longer, petting Columbo who woke up to sleepily curl up on Dan’s stomach and holding vigil over her boys.
When she moved to Los Santos, she was sure of two things: love wasn’t real and mornings were God’s bane on the earth.
Now, as her eyes droop and her body relaxes against Dan’s warmth, her fingers still entwined with Gavin’s, she can admit she was wrong. About the love thing. Mornings can still suck her dick.