what we've got here is a failure to communicate

dale seaworth. DPG. baratheon.

[seaworthd]

oh yeah the drinks on me (lester & dale) | march 18th

[lester-morrigen]

Dale’s so enthusiastic, not only about this, but everything, it seems.  He doesn’t really seem to get that from Davos.  Davos never seems to be this optimistic, or happy, or anything like that.  Lester can’t seem to sum up this much energy for anything in life.  "You should meet my brother, Guy.  I think you’d get along great."

Lester nods to Dale’s reassurances.  Is that what they are?  It’s not as though Lester said anything to doubt how nice the place that Dale was taking him was.  "I’m sure it’s very nice."  Dale tells him that they have more of a drive and Lester sighs, though contentedly.  It’s nice, to just sit here.

Lester raises his eyebrows, as Dale starts to explain about the bar.  It doesn’t really sound like a bar or a restaurant or anything like that.  It sounds like they’re going to go to someone’s house and eat their food.  "It’s like someone’s house?  Well, ok then.  That sounds…interesting."

Lester wonders why Dale would want to go anywhere that he would describe as shit.  At least there’s good food there.  Though Lester can’t really say that he wants to eat anything.  He’s stopped really wanting to go back to work and started imagining that he’s home.  "Are we almost there?"  He must sound like such a child.

[seaworthd]

Dale raises an eyebrow; Lester's never talked about his family before.

"Oh yeah? What's he like?"

Lester's always been some sort of a mystery to him -- no matter how close they get, Dale feels like he knows him a little less. That stupid saying -- two steps forward, three steps back? He's pretty sure it's more like one step forward, 90 steps back. But he can't help being interested, and he can't help trying. 

"I hope you like it!!" he says, a little ridiculously eagerly and hopefully. He really does want him to have a good time. "Yeah, next corner!"

[devanseaworths]

But he too is swimming away, an inch more every year. [dale and devan; august 24]

[devanseaworths]

"I outgrew those cleats, they’re Stannis’ now." Devan says simply, resting his arm against the door. Even if their father was practically best friends with the new prime minister it didn’t mean he asked him for anything, and he certainly never got anything other than a good position. They still lived in the same house, and had hand-me-downs from Dale himself. Maybe some people thought it unusual, but it was normal for the Seaworth clan, a simple life, no big cheques or anything…just simple.

And that’s what Devan likes about it.  

Devan does smile however, when he mentions what he’ll do with his room. He knows that when he returns, it’ll be the same as it ever was, it’ll just look smaller now that he’s had a whole new perspective on things. “Yeah, I reckon that’s where all your beds are too." He turns to Dale and raises his eyebrows. 

Maybe if he wasn’t so….well, what even was he? Nervous? Anxious? Eager? He glares at the glovebox, as if it will give him all the answers when all he hears are just the wheels on asphalt and his own breathing. If he has to choose, maybe he’d like to be eager. That means he’d be excited, and therefore jumpy; jittery. One look at his hands tells him that’s probably it. He’s fidgeting, running the top of his index finger across the top of his thumb, over and over. He brings the two fingers to his lips, but doesn’t bite them. Calm down, he tells himself. If Dale sees him like this he’ll notice and be…worried. No, Devan can’t have that, he simply can’t. So he forcefully puts his hands on the tops of his thighs and briefly looks at his brother before looking straight, outside the windshield.

[seaworthd]

“‘Course they are, Stanny will be tripping over himself in them in no time," he laughs, shaking his head. The passing of time in the Seaworth family has always been marked by clothes and shoes and things passed on — Dale knew he was getting old when he saw that Stannis could fit into his smallest clothes, even the things that Devan couldn’t. It was a little weird, but he liked it. He liked knowing that one of his favorite shirts used to belong to his dad.

He rolls his eyes. “Hey, listen, just ‘cause you’re the one who’s gonna be moved into the basement doesn’t mean we don’t love you. It’s just we love full-screen cinemas more. Or, oh, a minigolf. We could convert the whole top level. Imagine?" 

He glances over at his brother out of the corner of his eye and smiles. He’s overcome with the urge to ruffle his hair, but he stops himself on purpose. He doesn’t want to embarrass him.

[seaworthd]

oh yeah the drinks on me (lester & dale) | march 18th

[lester-morrigen]

Lester imagines that Dale is the type of person who internally screams everything he thinks.  He has this nervous energy even when he’s saying the most simple of things and Lester lets out a small sigh as Dale leads him outside.

Lester aims a smile at him when he says he’ll take him in the car.  He was not exactly looking foreword to biking anywhere tonight, though he wonders exactly how he will get home tonight if he doesn’t have any of his own transportation.  He supposes that he’ll have to beg Dale for a ride.  Not that he thinks the boy will be particularly unaccommodating, given his insistence that Lester goes with him.  Still, it’s good to worry about these things.  Be prepared.

Dale leads Lester to his car and Lester slides in besides him and sighs as his face warms, suddenly inside and out the cold.  He rubs his hands together, fingers warming at the friction as Dale starts the car and pulls out into the street.  ”So.”  He starts and doesn’t know exactly where to go from there.  ”What type of bar are we going to?  I honestly don’t know too many.”

[seaworthd]

Dale grins as they start driving; luckily, the distance isn't too far, which means they can be drinking and eating in no time. Thank God. He's incredibly hungry -- something which, again, isn't too surprising for him.

"It's a good place! Good food. Good drinks. Kinda like a dive almost but like, a good one." 

He realizes that description is unhelpful for anyone who doesn't go to many pubs, so he tries to backtrack.

"It's like... when you go to someone's flat and it's kinda shit but the food's good and so's the beer and so's the company, so it's good even though the outside is crap?" 

[valdling-blog]

(this color, this summer night) | val & dale | aug 24th

[valdling-blog]

Val inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine hit her and feeling blissfully lightheaded at once (it was honestly some form of torture that she wasn’t able to smoke at work). She cocked an eyebrow at Dale and smirked before taking another drag.

“Careful,” she said. “I just might get comfortable with the fact.”

And — looking at him — it could be difficult not to get comfortable, she knew. Dale was tall, and well-built, and handsome. He worked an important job for the important government and Val was tiny enough to fold neatly into his chest, if she let herself. He knew how to take a joke, she had already learned, and he looked strong. It would be easy to get comfortable with a guy like Dale. It would be easy for anyone, Val thought distantly, watching him, the smile still on her lips (she made sure it reached her eyes), though she didn’t feel anything.

“Well! — Shall we?” she asked theatrically, reaching for his hand with her free one. “I could be halfway to my bed right now; I think you owe me three burgers. Lead the way.”

[seaworthd]

Dale smiled back, trying his best not to feel utterly charmed, while knowing (deep down, embarrassingly) that he was -- taken already. "I'll take your word on that," he said in reply, nodding faux-solemnly at her threat.

When she grabbed his hand, he fought his smile from growing wider, determined not to seem like a college student, giddy over hand-holding. Instead, he laced their fingers and tugged gently, quirking his head to the left.

"Three burgers, yeah?" he asked, leading her down the street and around the corner. "Onion rings or french fries?" 

And God, that's a stupid question, he realizes, especially when he's trying to make small talk. But the only thing worse than this conversation would be so how was your day? and he can't give this date the kiss of death, not yet.

[gcraster]

FOLLOW THE MAD HUNTSMAN

FOLLOW THE MAD HUNTSMAN SIDEBLOG CAN’T FOLLOW ETC ETC :))))

[aftertherainyafternoons-blog]

[valdling-blog]

(this color, this summer night) | val & dale | aug 24th

[valdling-blog]

If Dale was nervous — Val couldn’t tell. This was, it had to be said, for the best, as Val couldn’t stand nerves — couldn’t stand them on her, couldn’t stand them on other people. The jitterier the person in front of her was, the jitterier she became, and frankly the last thing she needed after a late night shift serving up drinks to the local drunks was to be jittery when all she wanted was to 1. curl up and go to sleep 2. in lieu of that, have burgers with a cute boy.

For herself, she felt fine. Besides the usual — I hope he’s not a creep/I hope he’s not boring/I hope I don’t have to use my pepper spray/I hope I don’t need to use the “phone an emergency friend” option headline worries zipping quickly through her head — she felt fine. She hated first dates, she remembered again, leaning forward to take the cigarette into her mouth, no hands.

“Thanks — oh, I’ll need a light too,” she realized, pulling the cig back out of her mouth, laughing. “How do you like that? I’ve barely said hi and I’m already putting you to work.”

She grinned. It said, Get used to it, if you wanna stick around.

[seaworthd]

Dale laughed easily, breathy and natural. Something about her made him both uneasy and at-ease, which was a strange combination -- there was part of him that felt like he was walking on needles with her, like one misstep could land him in a lifetime of never seeing her again, which was totally possible. Val didn't seem to be like the kind of girl who would hold on to friends she didn't care about or ex-boyfriends/one night stands who she didn't want anymore. At the same time, Dale felt comfortable with her already, comfortable enough to (almost!!) act like an idiot in front of her. Not that it was hard to do that.

He balanced the cigarette in his mouth and fished around his pockets for his zippo, a silly thing his father bought for him when he finished school engraved with his initials and an anchor. When his fingers caught hold of it, he nearly sighed audibly; the feeling whenever it took him a second too long to find it could only be described as "near panic."

He lit the cigarette for her before letting out a puff of his own smoke. 

"Maybe I don't mind being put to work," he replied with a smile. 

[seaworthd]

oh yeah the drinks on me (lester & dale) | march 18th

[lester-morrigen]

Lester wonders if a human being can literally buzz with enthusiasm.  Lester sometimes thinks of Dale as a rather overgrown bee with legs.  He’s sweet, but also tends to buzz around your ear and you want to catch him and release him outside.  Dale meets him outside his office with a grin and they walk outside together, Lester shrugging on a jacket as they leave the building.

It’s strangely cold outside and Lester thinks he can feel a breeze.  Lester nods as Dale announces his intentions on where they should go.  ”I biked to work today.  Didn’t bring my car.  Do you want to go in yours?  Or you could give me directions and I can get there on the bike?  Your choice.”

[seaworthd]

Dale wants to -- BUT DOESN'T!!! -- shout: "ARE YOU KIDDING OF COURSE I WON'T MAKE YOU RIDE YOUR BIKE AND THEN MEET YOU THERE WE'RE NOT IN FOURTH YEAR THAT'S NOT HOW ADULTS DO THINGS!!!!" But, he doesn't. Primarily because it'd be kind of rude, but also because he doesn't think Lester would respond well to that sort of joke. He'll save that sort of thing for his other friends. 

Instead, he replies, "We can go in my car. It's kinda cold out tonight."

(And it's true, it's chilly and nippy and one of those nights where Dale is reminded of how far away spring truly is.)

"I'm parked over this way," he says, nodding towards the small outdoor car park outside the building. He stole his dad's spot, but he doesn't think he'll care. He leads Lester there, hoping the man's warming up to the idea of spending a night out with him. 

[valdling-blog]

(this color, this summer night) | val & dale | aug 24th

Aside from the occasional one night stand, Val hadn’t really the time or interest to date since she’d moved to London: a situation she was altogether satisfied with. Relationships were messy, commitment took patience and compromise, and truthfully… there was nothing more uncomfortable or boring than a first date. She liked her space and her freedom. She liked being able to come home and flop down in front of the TV and not have to impress anybody. She felt exhausted and uncertain with where her life was going at this exact moment in time — and though she didn’t like to admit it — Val wasn’t entirely sure she had the room or energy to let anyone into that dull sort of madness. So why say yes to Dale? Maybe there was something charming about his earnest attempt to get her attention. He was a regular at the bar, though he never bothered her before. In fact, he never seemed to bother anyone much — a good sign, considering someone was always trying to cause a problem — mostly keeping to himself and his group of friends, cheering on his footie team when the game was on, etc. He seemed… nice. He wouldn’t last, Val knew. But he might be a good fuck, at least. They’d agreed to meet outside, much to her relief, (by the end of her shifts, Val couldn’t stand the place anymore), and as she swung the door open Val spotted Dale loitering against the wall, smoking a cigarette. She had nearly forgotten (had she ever really noticed? she was noticing now) how handsome he was. Not just the kind of hot she found around the clubs downtown — but. Handsome. She shook it off. “Got one of those for me?” she smiled.

[seaworthd]

Dale was nervous.

He wasn't usually nervous about things like this -- or many things, really. He'd get nervous now and then, when there was a riot outside and he knew he'd have to march through it, or when he thought his family might be in danger and he hadn't heard from any of them in an hour. He got nervous whenever a news bulletin comes on, and he thought that he'd failed at his job, that he'd failed to protect the Prime Minister, or the public, or that he'd failed, full stop.

Dating? One-night stands? He didn't bat an eye at those. He was straightforward and no-stress/no-frills when it came to dating -- a dab of cologne and (maybe) a brush of his hair and he'd be set, and either the girl he was seeing would like him or she wouldn't.  And if she did, brilliant. If she didn't -- well, that's what pub nights were for, right? 

(Anyway, usually they liked him.)

Anyway. Anyway.

He was nervous. He wasn't sure what was different -- what it was about Val that made him breathless in a way that other women hadn't. There was something about her that attracted him past her beauty (though god, she was beautiful)-- how little he knew her and how much he wanted to, the way she looked at him like she'd already read his mind before he has spoken and thought (/knew) he was ridiculous.

He knew it'd be a miracle if they made it past the first date; the fact that she said yes at all was a miracle. As he stood outside the pub, he smoked a cigarette and kicked at a stone on the floor, too preoccupied to worry about looking "cool" when she came out to meet him. Also, he'd already figured out that she would probably never think he's cool. 

(And usually people think he's cool when they first meet him!!!!!)

He didn't notice her until she spoke, and shocked him out of his reverie -- he glanced over at her and was struck silent, stupid. She was beautiful. Stunning. In a sort of classic, non-duplicatable way. Women would try their whole lives to look as beautiful as she did, effortlessly, after a long day of working.

He smiled at her and nodded, holding the cigarette in his mouth and fishing around for his pack in his jacket. He pulled one out and motioned for her to put it in her mouth. He prayed his hands weren't shaking.  

[seaworthd]

text (dale & erren) | sept 1st

[errenflorent-blog]

txt: it just seems like a band that someone who cries a lot would listen to

[seaworthd]

txt: i don't cry txt: i do fuck up assholes who don't know how to shut up though

[seaworthd]

fine you're cute i guess we can date

oh thank god

[seaworthd]

oh yeah the drinks on me (lester & dale) | march 18th

[lester-morrigen]

Lester opens the door, which Dale was polite enough to close on his way out, and finds Dale still standing out in the hallway.  Lester blinks at him, certain that he had gone outside, but here he was, standing in the hallway.  ”So,” Lester starts, shifting from one foot to the other.  ”Where are we going?”

[seaworthd]

Of course Dale didn't go all the way downstairs!! That would give Lester the chance of slipping out round the back and ditching him, and that would be too sad (sad emotion and sad pathetic) for Dale to deal with. When Lester steps out of his office, Dale smiles again, clapping Lester on the shoulder jovially before realizing that maybe Lester isn't as comfortable with physical affection as Dale is. He tries to smoothly remove his hand and shove both of them in his pockets instead.

"Pub!!" he replies brightly, nodding towards the exit. "I know a good one." 

[anno-zero]

[seaworthd]

phone call (devan & dale) | september 5th

[devanseaworths]

[He rolls his eyes, but of course his brother can’t see it. He has to admit that having a conversation with his brother over the phone was…not as entertaining as having him right in front of him.]

Angry nose? [That bit just sounded ridiculous, how did one have an angry nose? He didn’t remember Dale’s nostrils being egregiously flared even when relaxed…but it’s like he tries to remember exactly how his brother looks, and there’s a shade, a fog over it.

Devan shakes his head,] Yeah, I’ve noticed. Hard not to, you know. [He bows his head, looking at the floor, and thinks of something else to say. He feels…tired, suddenly, and rolls his shoulders in an attempt to shrug it off.] Right then, angry nose..I think I’ve got to go, course work to do, maybe you can come by and visit..[He searches for a date, something not too far, but definitely not too close. He doesn’t want his brother to see his face, not until it’s mostly healed.] Next week? The rest of this one is all intros to the courses and well, you know how it goes.

[seaworthd]

[ This conversation is making Dale wish Devan was in front of him -- because he'd  grab him, ruffle his hair, and rough him up a bit, throw him around lovingly before challenging him to a game of football. As much as he loves talking to his brother, seeing him and being with him is better. But, whatever. University has him now, and Dale has to learn to share. ]

Yeah, angry nose! Like. One of those strong ones. You don't fuck with a guy who's got an angry nose. 

[ And then Devan's going, and Dale feels like reaching out through the phone for him. He's two seconds away from coming up with a random excuse to talk longer, desperate for his connection with his brother to last. But he can't do that. He nods, but Devan can't see him. ] 

'Course, Dev. Yeah, I need to go too. Just wanted to talk to you, y'know. [ He smiles into the phone. ] Okay. Next week, then. Better not flake out on me!

[seaworthd]

text (dale & erren) | sept 1st

[errenflorent-blog]

txt: this has been txt: a conversation  txt: with dale seaworth

(a moment later)

txt: how much maroon 5 do you listen to honestly

[seaworthd]

txt: i don't listen to maroon 5 txt: what about me makes you even think about maroon 5

[bloodandglory-rp]

character: dale seaworth →  seaworthd baratheon 2012 GARRETT HEDLUND

Dale Seaworth never had high expectations for himself. Born to Davos and Marya Seaworth, he grew up in a modest home, where he never allowed himself to want for anything outside of what he could realistically get. A realist by nature, he knew at a young age that nothing would be handed to him, that he wouldn’t have the best laid out for him, and that his path wouldn’t be easy — and that was just fine. (Paths shouldn’t be easy, he reasoned. Things shouldn’t be given to you just because you have a famous last name.) At school, he sat in overcrowded classrooms, kept to himself, didn’t bother people — but he’d defend himself against bullies, against “popular kids” who wanted to fuck with him. He’d come home bruised and bloody-knuckled and his mother would clean his wounds, but he’d tell his dad, “I won, though.”

He learned about hard work from his parents — especially his father. He got his first job when he was 14, working in construction and lying about his age. He was proud to bring home money to his family, proud to contribute somehow, give something back to the people who had given him so much. (His proudest moment is still the day he brought home dinner and cooked it with his brothers.) He never resented his family for being unable to give him the best schooling or clothes (he loved, and loves, his family more than anything else in the world); instead, he resented (and resents) the rich, the people who had everything handed to them.

(Dale fights for the weaker man. He doesn’t have time for people who think they’re better than him/others. He will fight a bigger man to prove a point. He doesn’t care about losing as long as his point is made.

After high school, Dale went to the best college his family could afford (a small, two-year technical college; there were a million other baby Seaworths getting ready for school, little brothers clambering to do things and go places and have futures of their own; he wasn’t going to hold any of them back by wasting time “finding himself” at a fancy university). He finished, did what he needed to do to get a job, moved on. Once his dad started working for Stannis, Davos pulled enough strings to get Dale a job he loves, for the most part, though one day he thinks he’ll want to work protecting the other side of the equation: not the rich or powerful, but the poor and powerless. Until then, though, he’s here for Stannis, his father, and his family.

[seaworthd]

phone call (devan & dale) | september 5th

[devanseaworths]

[Devan rolls his eyes, knowing full well that his brother is there for him. He could call him at 3 am and not hear a word unless it is layered in concern. Nodding his head, he returns to the couch and sits.]

Yeah. [He says bluntly. Though he’ll never call him at least, not for that reason. Sure, he’s his big brother, but Devan’s an adult now, he can…handle things on his own. He wonders if Dale thinks so as well.] I reckon that’s for the best, don’t want your delicate features getting messed up. [He laughs at his own joke, making his cheeks pull higher, and a small bout of pain lances through, making him wince. He hopes Dale only hears a sigh.]

[seaworthd]

[ Dale can hear the bluntness in Devan's voice, and he knows that he's bordering on overstepping his boundaries. He remembers being Devan's age -- it's not like it was a long time ago -- and feeling like he didn't need anything from anybody. He wants to learn how he can offer his support without being overbearing. There must be a way to have it all.

He lets the subject drop, though, and laughs. ] I don't have "delicate" features! I have very manly features. [ He touches his chin slowly. ] A... ah. Chiseled jaw, and. Angry nose. [ He laughs again as Devan sighs. ] I'm sure you've noticed the same features on yourself. It's the sheer Seaworth masculinity, I tell you.