Dan Sagittarius (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hallelujahjunction) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nightlogs2023-10-12 05:19 pm
hallelujahjunction) wrote in nightlogs2023-10-12 05:19 pm
Everything It Seems I Like's a Little Bit Harmful for Me [Open to All]
Who: Dan Sagittarius and you!
What: Dan tools around in the workshop and tests the limits of North's homeowner safety compliance, makes some presents for people, acts helpful.
Where: The Workshop and outdoors near the kitchen.
When: Early October
Warnings/Notes: The usual warnings associated with Dan - alcoholism, drug use, swearing, potential references to dead children, sex work and/or firearms. Lots of nicotine addiction in this one.
Dan hates the cold.
He fucking hates the cold, because his circulation has gone to shit and sucking down cigarettes all his life has left him with a permanent sensitivity to chill along with an inconvenient and unpleasant nicotine addiction, and that combination, here at the North Pole, means he has to run a regular gauntlet throughout the day to go on smoke breaks outdoors. Instead of just popping outside to take a leisurely break from whatever he's doing, he suits up with gloves and coats and hats like he's putting on armor for battle and then houses each cigarette in record time, shivering and wincing the entire time.
When he isn't on smoke breaks and isn't running around with Bunny on missions, he's recuperating from whatever adventure he's been on by working with the elves in the workshop. Dan's father was a carpenter, a tailor and a woodworker who expressed his affection in showering his wife and seven children with gifts and attention. Dan inherited that, and he fills his idle hours with woodworking and sewing, making Christmas gifts for the people at the Pole who've been pulled into this adventure, mostly practical things like warm socks and step stools, but sometimes just tchotchkes like carved effigies. He's excited that North apparently had a bevy of goose down, and is starting to piece together cozy coats for people, and he's been building various hurdles and tunnels for Cammie to test her holon on.
Throughout the day he tries to think of a way to not be colossally rude while smoking indoors. It's poor form to light up under someone's roof and make everything reek of tobacco, and it feels all the more inconsiderate to do so in the Pole, where the merriment is unilaterally pretty child-friendly in a way cigarettes are not, and even more rude to do so while the homeowner is in captivity. Still, after a particularly frozen smoke break where he returned to warmth with his hands so near-paralyzed and bone-white that it took over an hour to get back to doing his woodwork, he decides that North would be understanding, and decides to undo the smoke detector in the kitchen. After all, the kitchen is ventilated, and smoking in here just during the coldest part of the night isn't too harmful.
I. These Are Just a Couple of My Cravings
Most things in the world are made for adult men slightly taller than Dan, but most things at the Pole are made for North and the yetis, and that means Dan can't just accomplish his goals by standing on tip toes. On account of the elves constantly getting into things they shouldn't and causing accidents, the kitchen is equipped with a smoke detector, which is about eleven feet off the ground. Standing on the highest shelf of a ladder, Dan can just barely scrape the corner of it with his fingertips. His only hope of reaching it is to jump, which may be unwise, but the siren song of nicotine has been known to wreck many a man on its rocks.
"Hey, do you mind holding this ladder while I try to reach this?" he asks the next person to come in.
II. A Little Bit Sweeter
By a few days in, Dan's got a straight-up workspace in the workshop, a table festooned with the tools of his crafts. Right now, it's covered in fabric and threads and scissors and rulers and a mannequin and all the deadwood of tailoring and mending as he works on a big, puffy coat to swaddle Elle in. He's at a frustration point, because at some juncture he fucked up the circumference of the sleeves, and he's realizing that his error might be so serious as to necessitate scrapping the coat entirely. He's chewing his nails in annoyance at himself when someone comes in, and he pounces on the opportunity to distract himself with some new task.
"Hey, you need anything mended? The tailor's open for business right now."
III. So Please Be Kind If I'm a Mess
The second Dan's cigarette is burned down, he rushes back into the communal relaxation room, teeth chattering and hands tucked into his armpits. Snowflakes dot his hair, and his cheeks are flush red. He strips off his gloves, and his fingers are a mix of angry red and bloodless white. He hastens over to the fireplace and groans as the transition from too-cold to too-hot makes his hands cramp, then reaches for the rice pack he set over the fire to warm up without having to hunch over the flames.
"Oh God damn it," Dan mutters, as his clumsy-with-cold hands fumble the rice pack and drop it straight into the fire. He huffs with frustration as he gets the fire poker and tries to retrieve the rice pack, but by now the pack is decidedly on fire, looking like a burning baked potato. "I owe North some rice."
What: Dan tools around in the workshop and tests the limits of North's homeowner safety compliance, makes some presents for people, acts helpful.
Where: The Workshop and outdoors near the kitchen.
When: Early October
Warnings/Notes: The usual warnings associated with Dan - alcoholism, drug use, swearing, potential references to dead children, sex work and/or firearms. Lots of nicotine addiction in this one.
Dan hates the cold.
He fucking hates the cold, because his circulation has gone to shit and sucking down cigarettes all his life has left him with a permanent sensitivity to chill along with an inconvenient and unpleasant nicotine addiction, and that combination, here at the North Pole, means he has to run a regular gauntlet throughout the day to go on smoke breaks outdoors. Instead of just popping outside to take a leisurely break from whatever he's doing, he suits up with gloves and coats and hats like he's putting on armor for battle and then houses each cigarette in record time, shivering and wincing the entire time.
When he isn't on smoke breaks and isn't running around with Bunny on missions, he's recuperating from whatever adventure he's been on by working with the elves in the workshop. Dan's father was a carpenter, a tailor and a woodworker who expressed his affection in showering his wife and seven children with gifts and attention. Dan inherited that, and he fills his idle hours with woodworking and sewing, making Christmas gifts for the people at the Pole who've been pulled into this adventure, mostly practical things like warm socks and step stools, but sometimes just tchotchkes like carved effigies. He's excited that North apparently had a bevy of goose down, and is starting to piece together cozy coats for people, and he's been building various hurdles and tunnels for Cammie to test her holon on.
Throughout the day he tries to think of a way to not be colossally rude while smoking indoors. It's poor form to light up under someone's roof and make everything reek of tobacco, and it feels all the more inconsiderate to do so in the Pole, where the merriment is unilaterally pretty child-friendly in a way cigarettes are not, and even more rude to do so while the homeowner is in captivity. Still, after a particularly frozen smoke break where he returned to warmth with his hands so near-paralyzed and bone-white that it took over an hour to get back to doing his woodwork, he decides that North would be understanding, and decides to undo the smoke detector in the kitchen. After all, the kitchen is ventilated, and smoking in here just during the coldest part of the night isn't too harmful.
I. These Are Just a Couple of My Cravings
Most things in the world are made for adult men slightly taller than Dan, but most things at the Pole are made for North and the yetis, and that means Dan can't just accomplish his goals by standing on tip toes. On account of the elves constantly getting into things they shouldn't and causing accidents, the kitchen is equipped with a smoke detector, which is about eleven feet off the ground. Standing on the highest shelf of a ladder, Dan can just barely scrape the corner of it with his fingertips. His only hope of reaching it is to jump, which may be unwise, but the siren song of nicotine has been known to wreck many a man on its rocks.
"Hey, do you mind holding this ladder while I try to reach this?" he asks the next person to come in.
II. A Little Bit Sweeter
By a few days in, Dan's got a straight-up workspace in the workshop, a table festooned with the tools of his crafts. Right now, it's covered in fabric and threads and scissors and rulers and a mannequin and all the deadwood of tailoring and mending as he works on a big, puffy coat to swaddle Elle in. He's at a frustration point, because at some juncture he fucked up the circumference of the sleeves, and he's realizing that his error might be so serious as to necessitate scrapping the coat entirely. He's chewing his nails in annoyance at himself when someone comes in, and he pounces on the opportunity to distract himself with some new task.
"Hey, you need anything mended? The tailor's open for business right now."
III. So Please Be Kind If I'm a Mess
The second Dan's cigarette is burned down, he rushes back into the communal relaxation room, teeth chattering and hands tucked into his armpits. Snowflakes dot his hair, and his cheeks are flush red. He strips off his gloves, and his fingers are a mix of angry red and bloodless white. He hastens over to the fireplace and groans as the transition from too-cold to too-hot makes his hands cramp, then reaches for the rice pack he set over the fire to warm up without having to hunch over the flames.
"Oh God damn it," Dan mutters, as his clumsy-with-cold hands fumble the rice pack and drop it straight into the fire. He huffs with frustration as he gets the fire poker and tries to retrieve the rice pack, but by now the pack is decidedly on fire, looking like a burning baked potato. "I owe North some rice."
II. A little bit sweeter
Jennifer greets Dan with that usual happy go lucky air she has to her. That mostly fake cluelessness (the part that is real is VERY real, though) makes her very endearing, but she came prepared, she has something in her hands.
"The Elves mentioned that you were here sewing and it just reminded me..." she unfolds a sweater "I made you this! You hate the cold, don't you? And I figured I could make something for you."
She tries to align it with the visual she has of Dan, to see if it would fit him well.
"I should have got your size right, but let me know. Oh, and do you mind dog hairs? I made sure to check for Brown's and keep it clean, but you never know."
Jennifer gives Dan a warm smile. As distracted as she might be she is very observant. She sees, she understands, and she knows way more than she lets on. She does however believes in keeping a respectful distance, knows how not to be nosy, and so she won't insist on making Dan voice his frustration, but she did already give a look at the coat he was making.
no subject
Dan scoots aside on his workbench so she has a place to sit. He's fond of her. He worries for her, because there's a certain naivete that she's maintained in spite of some obvious neglect and trauma, and he's concerned about her stumbling back into a situation to be exploited, but he admires that she's managed to hold onto something innocent and open.
"That's so kind of you. You're right. I don't tolerate cold well at all." He holds his hand out to her, so she can see that he's got some bandages around his fingers. "What's your sizing? You were on my list of folks to make some warm clothing for."
He pulls the sweater on, ignoring the dog hair. "This is so cozy."
no subject
Holding onto the little things has made her feel pathetic in the past, talking to the Bucket Knight when everyone around her would be so mean, everything felt a bit like a mockery, didn't it? What a poor, unlucky girl. But eventually, she needs the good to outweigh the bad, it has to. Nevermind that she almost drowned in the Swamp Of Sadness and no one realized, she really believes in the little glimpses of happiness that she sees.
"Hmm...Let me think about it. I'm not sure, I keep growing in height."
Not in weight, though, despite eating so many sweets that it's concerning.
"Thank you, it's a very nice thought. Who else are you making clothes for? I could help you out."
no subject
He's aware that a lot of people have baggage associated with knowing their measurements. Jennifer doesn't give that vibe, but he doesn't want to pressure her anyway, and her tone makes it clear that she's welcome to say no without offending him.
"Right now this disaster of a coat was supposed to be for Elle, but I think I done fucked it up irreparably." He sighs. "I'm just making something warm for each of the youngsters. It makes me feel like I'm doing something instead of just watching the world chuck them into dangerous situations over and over."
He feels so helpless, watching all these teenagers get dragged into wars and life-threatening situations. He feels like he sees his siblings, who all died as teenagers or younger, in each of them - like he knows how it'll feel to watch them die, because he's felt it before. He's felt the catastrophic, crippling loss of watching a youth under his care get killed.
no subject
Her size is the last thing she's worried about. Plus she's still growing, they're bound to change a lot. While Dan takes her measurements, she looks over at the coat he's making for Elle.
"You might need to start anew...But you can always reuse the fabric. What is the little one's name, Branch? We could make many little sweaters just with that sleeve!"
no subject
"Yeah, that's Branch. I fixed up some of his cardigans but I ain't made him anything fresh. Want to do that with me?"
no subject
She nods not too energetically, but sincerely. Something is on her mind.
"I think we could all use some distractions. Even if we don't have to burden ourselves with responsibilities, it's hard not to try and make sure to do all we can to protect everyone else." Jennifer starts musing, now, thinking of Brown, Gregory, Hoffman, Wendy, and all the other kids "Sometimes you regret being overbearing, while other times you regret not having done enough. But only in hindsight you can see the overcorrections."
Perhaps if she didn't overcorrect with the maturity back then, things could have shaped up differently for her. And Dan's avoidance is an overcorrection, too. But she could never judge him for being in so much pain. Especially knowing that his heart has not hardened despite all.
It's way more complicated than it looks, isn't it? Many don't understand, they wonder what is the point of maintaining and extending that grace despite all, warn that it's like asking to get hurt again. But someone has to do it. If pain is meant to come, it will come anyway. There is no such thing as dodging it. She might as well be here and soak in everyone's tragedy.
no subject
He and Cammie have leveled with each other that he's overprotective of her and the other youngsters because of how his daughter's ghost haunts him. He knows Elle is also consciously patient with him when he treats her as younger than she wants to be treated. And he and Stacia have already had their heart-to-heart about his tendency to detach entirely when he panics.
"I try to avoid regrets, you know? I try to just learn from them and then move forward. Guilt ain't a useful emotion." He pulls out a box with different color threads from underneath the table. He hopes this is a lesson Jennifer's already learned and internalized. Her sweet nature could be fertile ground for guilt to grow. "What color are you thinking for thread for Branch?"
no subject
And yes, Jennifer is very prone to guilt. Sometimes she traps herself in the circles spinned by her own mind. It's the way she constantly tries to see where everyone is coming from. The more problematic and dangerous the individual, the more she has to understand. It wouldn't be smart not to understand, right? But understanding behaviours is not the same thing as being able to prevent them, and that's where she tends to fail.
To let herself off the hook a bit she likes to think that there some degree for which it's right that she's not capable of fixing others, because they deserve to be the main force behind overcoming any issue, it's intimate, it's a matter of honour, but still. How much is this true? What amount, what proportion? She's never been the type to be technical or precise, but she wishes she could have a helpful map with little numbers. Or a recipe with ingredient dosages, like a cake. Mmm, she could use some cake.
"You are very wise, mr Sagittarius." she then compliments Dan. He's right, guilt really isn't a useful emotion. It disrupts so much. Is it guilt that manifests Brown being here with her? Just to remind her to be strong because when she is weak her friends die? Or is it really just her cherishing his memory? These both feel like very true explanations, but knowing which one outweighs the other makes a huge difference for sure, and she doesn't feel like she does.
"But I think you should be careful with it. When you try too hard to learn from your regrets, love starts feeling like a burden, you lose sight of comfort, and the hot cup of tea that used to make your day better becomes just an empty ritual that doesn't work anymore."
She bites her lip. Is she really in the position to make this speech? Probably not, but she has to brave through it just a little bit, if only because Dan deserves to hear her message. Well, her reminder, her life experience was always contained and sheltered, so how much can she really know about life? How much can she teach to a man who is older and has seen it all? Of course she's self conscious, but if anything concentrating all of this in one sitting means they can move on from it quickly if necessary, without the awkwardness of coming back to it later and deciding whether it's appropriate to do so. If this has to be inappropriate, it will be in a single drawn out moment, and then she will apologize and adjust her behaviour accordingly.
"...And then you start spiralling, because maybe it's better like this, to be hypervigilant and in pain just to make sure that when it's time to step up you will do it, because sometimes pain is the only way to keep alive things that shouldn't be gone in the first place. Moving on feels like betrayal...Towards the truth, towards loved ones, towards anything you are mourning. It feels like you love them less because you are leaving them behind and like you are siding with whatever took them away, but you know that it's not true."
Damn, this really is going too far, Dan didn't ask for none of it. Nobody wants to be lectured on perception by a girl that talks to inanimate objects!
"I still struggle with it, sometimes...And I wouldn't wish that on anyone, much less on you. You deserve to be indulgent with yourself. Actually indulgent, not just eating sweets or smoking cigarettes only to internalise that it's unhealthy. You need kindness as much as everyone else does."
no subject
Dan gives her a soft smile, but he doesn't want to let Jennifer in further than this. Some of the things she says are correct, and others feel like misinterpretations of the coping mechanisms written into Dan's behavior. He doesn't feel like moving on from his grief is a betrayal or that continuing to mourn is a ritual; he feels stuck, utterly powerless to do anything else but go through the same awful loop every morning, the cycle of remembering what he's lost and trying to move forward and falling back into old sorrow unspooling through the hours until he sleeps and does it all over again.
"But I know I ain't betraying nobody. Don't you?" He reaches into the cabinet under the work desk and pulls out some candy. "If you're worried about me eating sweets, you should take some off my hands."
no subject
Jennifer chuckles as she accepts some of the candy, making sure to leave some in Dan's hand. No matter how unhealthy they might be, she doesn't believe in taking away meager consolations. They could be one last reason to stay alive, to someone.
"But I mean it. I wouldn't want you to lose enjoyment of the little things."
She starts examining the fabric of Elle's coat more closely, and starts reminiscing.
"I don't remember if I already told you this story - If did, by all means, stop me. There was this girl in the orphanage where I stayed as a child, her name was Amanda. She cared a lot about fashion and her appearance, her hair would always be perfectly styled in beautiful ringlets and she would steal Martha's lipstick, but most importantly, she loved sewing. She loved sewing so much that sometimes she would pass rags through the sewing machine with an empty thread.
She made clothes and gifts, and she was so talented! But she was constantly mistreated by the other girls. Exploited, too, along with her talent. She tried so obsessively to impress them and make friends with them that she would sew relentlessly, all the time. She lost the joy in it and she would panic. It was very sad to see something so precious to her being taken away like that..."
Jennifer becomes genuinely sad as she remembers.
"I like to think that if she had not died so young, she would have found a space to rediscover the joy of her craft. It's what inspired me to learn sewing myself."
no subject
He didn't rediscover joy, he doesn't think. He just turned all his hobbies and skills into ways to stay busy, and that's as close as he gets. Staying busy.
"I ain't at any risk of losing my love for working with my hands," he says. He pushes away from the table to give Jennifer some space at the workdesk. "If you want, I'd love to could see what kind of sewing you can do. Maybe we might could work on something together."
cw animal death mention
There's surprisingly a lot of material available, which speaks volumes on the Elves' hospitality, they must have worked so hard to provide it. Eventually, Jennifer's attention is caught by leather.
"Not sure what is in style today, but back in my day we would use a lot of lapped seams."
While touching the fabric it comes to her mind that she could make a gun holster, surely it would come in handy during a mission. Almost intuitively, she draws the project on paper - she remembers how big Gregory's gun felt in her hand, how Wendy gave it to her, saying they had to take it away for his own good...
No, no, she should make something else.
She probably takes more time than necessary, painstakingly cutting and working with such small pieces compared to what she has avaialable that one could see her needing glasses soon. It's not exactly a coincidence that she chooses something that requires much focus. She's not the type to escape from feelings, but the pity she feels for Wendy usually makes her spiral. So absurd to imagine that concerned child be the same person who killed her girlfriend's dog out of jealousy.
No, she doesn't need any help, and knows that Dan is too polite to intervene early, so she actually manages to finish: behold, what you could only describe as the tiniest leather bag you will ever see.
"Branch might need this."