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)
nightlogs2023-10-24 01:08 pm
hallelujahjunction) wrote in nightlogs2023-10-24 01:08 pm
Entry tags:
I'm Not the Kind of Man to Live Comfortably [Closed]
Who: Dan and Bunny
What: Dan confronts a devastating tragedy.
Where: Their bedroom at the Pole.
When: Prior to Hocus Pocus
Warnings/Notes: Usual Dan warnings about potential references to substance abuse and mental illnesses, firearms, sex work, etc. In this case Dan's insane libertarian politics may come up.
It’s a bad day.
Dan has a lot of bad days - fewer, now that he isn’t slumming the single life in a stolen car and always teetering between financially under-resourced and actively ruined, now that he can regularly sleep up to four hours without interruption, now that his existence has been improved in all the many tangible and intangible ways that a loving relationship with an immortal can deliver - and today is a bad one. A tragic one, even.
It’s not the worst day. Dan’s had many days awful enough that he can’t even get out of bed, or gets hammered starting the moment he wakes up until he’s blackout drunk by noon, or starts the day off hyperventilating from a nightmare and then doesn’t catch his breath for thirty hours. It isn’t a day that bad, and he hasn’t had one that bad in a few years.
But it’s still a bad enough day that he locks himself in his and Bunny’s bedroom and slams out four straight hours of embroidery, drinks eggnog until he’s woozy, and takes a nap in the six layers he went outside to take a smoke in, leaving the top of the bed somewhat damp from snowmelt. He wakes up with no awareness of what time it is and with his hurt feelings still smarting. He does some more embroidery, gives Bunny’s favorite flannel a trail of vines and flowers going all the way down one sleeve to an ornate design on the cuff. He slams doors and cabinets, which is uncharacteristic for him. He throws his jacket and coat on the floor, also uncharacteristically. He keeps trying to nap away the pissiness without success.
It isn’t a big deal. He knows it isn’t a big deal. He knows that in the grand scheme of things, the thing bothering him is extremely small potatoes, and that he’s just perseverating on it because he’s wrapped himself into a narrative where he’s the victim of forces beyond his control and said forces are just rubbing salt in all his open wounds. He knows he’s being dramatic.
But it keeps rolling around in his head, they took my home and they took my dad and they took any car I could get my hands on and they took my cash so often I wouldn’t ever be able to might count it up and now they’re taking-, unceasing. And he knows Bunny won’t understand.
“Hey, honey.” Usually, when Bunny gets in and he’s still in bed, he greets Bunny by jumping out of bed and wrapping him in a hug before Bunny’s even finished opening the door. This time he just sits up and runs his hands over his face, then reaches for Bunny to come and sit next to him on the bed to get an embrace. “How was Mongolia?”
What: Dan confronts a devastating tragedy.
Where: Their bedroom at the Pole.
When: Prior to Hocus Pocus
Warnings/Notes: Usual Dan warnings about potential references to substance abuse and mental illnesses, firearms, sex work, etc. In this case Dan's insane libertarian politics may come up.
It’s a bad day.
Dan has a lot of bad days - fewer, now that he isn’t slumming the single life in a stolen car and always teetering between financially under-resourced and actively ruined, now that he can regularly sleep up to four hours without interruption, now that his existence has been improved in all the many tangible and intangible ways that a loving relationship with an immortal can deliver - and today is a bad one. A tragic one, even.
It’s not the worst day. Dan’s had many days awful enough that he can’t even get out of bed, or gets hammered starting the moment he wakes up until he’s blackout drunk by noon, or starts the day off hyperventilating from a nightmare and then doesn’t catch his breath for thirty hours. It isn’t a day that bad, and he hasn’t had one that bad in a few years.
But it’s still a bad enough day that he locks himself in his and Bunny’s bedroom and slams out four straight hours of embroidery, drinks eggnog until he’s woozy, and takes a nap in the six layers he went outside to take a smoke in, leaving the top of the bed somewhat damp from snowmelt. He wakes up with no awareness of what time it is and with his hurt feelings still smarting. He does some more embroidery, gives Bunny’s favorite flannel a trail of vines and flowers going all the way down one sleeve to an ornate design on the cuff. He slams doors and cabinets, which is uncharacteristic for him. He throws his jacket and coat on the floor, also uncharacteristically. He keeps trying to nap away the pissiness without success.
It isn’t a big deal. He knows it isn’t a big deal. He knows that in the grand scheme of things, the thing bothering him is extremely small potatoes, and that he’s just perseverating on it because he’s wrapped himself into a narrative where he’s the victim of forces beyond his control and said forces are just rubbing salt in all his open wounds. He knows he’s being dramatic.
But it keeps rolling around in his head, they took my home and they took my dad and they took any car I could get my hands on and they took my cash so often I wouldn’t ever be able to might count it up and now they’re taking-, unceasing. And he knows Bunny won’t understand.
“Hey, honey.” Usually, when Bunny gets in and he’s still in bed, he greets Bunny by jumping out of bed and wrapping him in a hug before Bunny’s even finished opening the door. This time he just sits up and runs his hands over his face, then reaches for Bunny to come and sit next to him on the bed to get an embrace. “How was Mongolia?”
no subject
Dan could see Miguel being the most competent one in the room or being the one who loses sight of the big picture just as easily. He would need to observe in action to come down to a firm conclusion, and he'd rather do that in a relatively easy situation than a truly dangerous one.
"Plus, he got a great ass. Almost as nice as yours." Dan grins and gives Bunny's haunch a pat. He gives a grunt to the comment about the elves. He's been doing his best to tell them to just not get too close to Price, but it's hard to do so without poisoning the well, and Dan figures that well is on the way to being toxic sludge at this rate.
"Stacia? She...yeah, she's alright. Told me some alarming shit about her world and her past and..." And they can't change what's already happened to these kids they've come to care for. They can't go back and untraumatize Stacia.
no subject
He smiles about Dan's ass comment, but hardly wants to be making commentary on some other mortal he hasn't met, even though he is fully ready to assume his anything is better than most people's.
"Is her past weighing her down?" he asks, of Stacia, because he's aware Dan knows that he knows Stacia's world is a fustercluck of trauma that they can't undo for her. Maybe they'll get lucky and be able to attend to it sooner than later, but right now, the problem in front of them is managing this crisis in this world with these overworked kids. "How's she handling command?"
no subject
He draws in the sand with his fingers. "She's fine. I'm fine, which is what I could tell both of us were worried about when she told me what she'd done been through. Reckon she thought I'd cut and run again like I almost did last time."
Stacia's forgiven Dan for that; Dan will too, in time, but it may take him a little longer.
"I told her that if she wants to avoid going back to her world, you and me would might find a way to make that happen, but more than anything, it sounds like the idea of never growing up scares her. Which makes sense. She don't want to be trapped as seventeen years old forever like she'd have to resign herself to here."