meadowlark | @ian.fowler

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@ian.fowler

I've put some plans together for some safehouse improvement. One of the biggest complaints was a lack of privacy & nowhere secluded to withdraw to, particularly when trying to sleep. Some people mentioned not being able to sleep whatsoever around strangers.

I'm thinking one wall of stacked sleep pods, and then the opposite wall with (fewer) sleep boxes for people who might be more claustrophobic. We should net out to having more beds than we started with thanks to the vertical space sleep pod stacking.

I know this doesn't solve the overall issue for people who don't want to be stuck in the safehouse to begin with, but I think it might make things a little easier.

Does anyone have any issue with me starting construction this week? I'll only be doing one wall at a time, so everyone currently staying there should have minimal disruption to their sleep.

A few features I plan on incorporating, in case anyone's curious about the functionality:
-interior locks & curtains
-exterior emergency release in case of fire etc
-temperature control & vented airflow
-personal lighting
-noise cancellation

I'm open to suggestions, but I may or may not be able to incorporate them in version 1.

( feel free to collaborate with anyone, but please take private threadjacks to personal contact posts for the sake of my inbox, rip. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( Tech kindly stowed, Ian settles back at his little kitchen island breakfast bar situation so he can live his best muffin and coffee life. God bless you, Lance, it's such a minute thing but it makes his day a little.

Probably totally the muffins and coffee that got him looking so pleased rather than his actual answer, don't look into it too much. )

Good. We're good. We, um-

( He curls fingers around his mug, not quite committing to drinking it even though when he picks it up. )

I asked him on a date, actually. And he said yes, so we... went on a date. Together. So that was cool.

[Lance catches himself before he follows Ian back to the kitchen this time, and instead just wanders the small distance necessary to be in appropriate speaking range. He takes a sip of his own coffee, allowing himself the moment of enjoying the flavor and the warmth of the drink before he refocuses on Ian's answer.]

That's great, I'm glad to hear that.

[He very much means it, because he wants both of them to be happy, and it sounds like this is a good step in dealing with their very complicated situation.]

What'd you do for the date? If you want to say.

[He'd love to hear all the gossip, but he'll manage to be respectful with great effort.]

Edited 2021-02-28 06:12 (UTC)

Oh yeah, I definitely wanna brag about it, I'm pretty sure I nailed it.

( Answered pleasantly, that nice calm shade of amused and self-mocking he gets sometimes. A little sincere, a little aware that he's an idiot for being smug about it, totally fine with both those things. )

There's this architecture museum downtown, it has these... really immersive hologram displays of historical buildings and significant locations, it's kind of like a maze. It's shut down because of... you know, everything, so we broke in. The whole place was empty, it was... really cool, actually.

( He lowers his cup, raises up an empty hand. )

You wanna see part of it? I'd love unbiased confirmation that I won at Date.

That sounds really cool.

[And like something Nate would definitely enjoy; something to explore is definitely a good choice, and breaking into it just adds to that.

The question is unexpected and Lance gives the offered hand a blank look for a moment before he snaps out of it, hesitant but knowing he shouldn't be. It'll be fine, as long as--]

Do you think Nate will mind?

[He's not totally sure if Ian's offering to show a memory of the actual date itself or some previous experience at the museum, but this'll clarify either way.]

Edited 2021-02-28 06:37 (UTC)

I'll leave out the part where we strip naked and do weird things with a statue of St. Christopher.

( Obviously a joke, but the sentiment is serious: he doesn't plan on flashing anything particularly intimate. Just a glimpse of the first five minutes of the date, which provides a good enough example that Lance can pretty much get the gist about how cool the rest of the exhibits look. )

Except—

( That hand lowers a little, cautiously. )

You just made a face. What was that face about?

[Lance scrunches his nose a little in a show of vague disgust at the first comment, going along with the joke by playing into it, though that fades as soon as Ian calls him out. He gives a weak shrug at the question, and offers a very vague--]

Nothing, it's fine. It just took me a moment.

[Which is not an explanation, and he knows that, so he hesitates briefly before trying again.]

The empathy bond and memory sharing are a little risky, so I was just weighing the pros and cons.

[Still not entirely truthful or a great explanation, since the hesitation was not that deliberate, but whatever. It really is fine; that part he was being genuine about.]

( They've talked about it before, maybe that's what makes it stand out a little. Granted, it had been under slightly more serious circumstances, but he doesn't remember quite the same kind of hesitation then. Could just be totally circumstantial.

He doesn't know for sure, and he doesn't wanna make it a big deal if it isn't. He also doesn't wanna sweep any red flags under the rug knowing how not okay Lance has been the last few weeks, so-- )

I'm gonna take your word for it, but I'm gonna do it by guilting you first and reminding you that we have like... an open... bonding... sharing agreement trust-y thing we're doing. This is, like, an honor system moment.

( Just checking. )

[Lance hesitates a few moments further at that response, partially because of what Ian says and partially because Lance is figuring out more specifically what had caused his own hesitation and so can give a third try at articulating it.]

I've been thinking about what we talked about before.

[Specifically those more serious circumstances, when they'd discussed using memory sharing to deal with particular issues.]

I'm not um, quite there yet, but it's just... It's on my mind, and I was worried about the risk of accidentally getting into that. But I don't think it's going to be a problem, I've got it under control.

[That, at least, is mostly the truth. He does think it'll be fine, as long as he's careful.]

Sorry, I didn't mean to go all weird on you.

( You know what, the answer's actually a really good one. It wipes that uncertainty and skepticism clean out of his body language, replaces it with a comfortable and easy understanding. )

Don't worry about it, you just helped me figure out guilting people is a flawless strategy that totally works one hundred percent of the time, so. We both learned something today.

( Totally, totally joking. Probably a response that would earn him an exasperated look from a few parties who shall not be named, but dismissing things easily and lightly is a habit. He's probably never really gonna break it.

The hand comes up again, his fingers wiggle. )

Please come spy on my date, weirdo.

[Don't worry, Lance will make up for the lack of presence of others who would give Ian looks by giving him one of his own at that first response. But he's glad for the understanding and the easy shift off the topic, back to the lighter one.]

Only if you promise me this isn't some sort of weird exhibitionist fetish you're involving me in.

[But he makes the dry comment while moving closer, setting his coffee carefully on the counter. Probably best not to risk holding anything while memory-sharing, especially not something as precious as coffee.]

( Ah yes good, the pattern continues. He seems way too amused by that look, more pleased with himself than chastised. )

I swear on my toolbox.

( Which is, you know, the most relevant thing that popped into his head that could replace the bible for him. Leave him alone, he loves them.

He'll leave his hand up, elbow propped on the table arm-wrestling style, and let Lance be the one to initiate. When he does, as promised, he only gets about two minutes of memory. The descent down transitioning stairs, Nate admitting he'd never been to the the place recreated around them, and Ian's quiet pleasure at having been able to give him some version of that experience. Short and sweet, and he thinks it's a pretty decent, succinct look at the overall feel of how it went.

In the split second between the memory ending and Ian retracting his hand, Lance might recognize the flash of feeling buzzing somewhere under Ian's comfortable calm, under his curiosity, his optimistic contentment about the whole thing — an underlying touch of nervousness. He can't really shake that background insecurity, that constant question; am I doing it right? )

[He mouths the word 'toolbox?' with an incredulous look, the whole thing for show, and after a moment of amused contemplation at Ian's arm-wrestling posture he copies it, making sure to clear his mind before making contact and allowing the memory share to begin.

The memory is very cute, and when he comes back to himself and out of the memory the first thing he really thinks is just what a nice moment it was. He's happy to see people he cares about happy, and that very much seemed to be the case.

He also hadn't missed that little bit of uncertainty through the bond, and so he very purposefully confirms--]

I think it's fair to say that you did win at Date.

I knew it.

( Mused aloud like he just proved someone wrong (you totally CAN win at Date, Nathan) but it's really just for the bit. Stupid, how his brain works — joking to make it seem like it's not actually a big deal to him, but he finds a little node of genuine relief in the reassurance.

Hands go back around coffee cup where they belong, thumbing absently at the texture around the rim because he can't keep completely still.

That's probably not the caffeine kicking in. Totally not that.

He slips back into something a little less jokey. )

So yeah, we did that, then we went to that... ball... rave... party earlier this week. I think it's going... bizarrely well, somehow.

[Lance rolls his eyes at the first comment, but he's smiling a little all the same; he's happy to let Ian enjoy his victory, especially if it means both he and Nate had a good time.

He is slightly concerned at the mention of the Ball, if only because he's sure heard some stories about that, but Nate and Ian are both adults and can make questionable choices all they want. Besides, obviously it went fine by what Ian's saying, and Lance retrieves his own coffee to help keep things casual as he replies.]

I know you were probably prepared for the worst, but 'somehow' isn't giving either of you enough credit. This must be an incredibly weird situation for you two to navigate, but you obviously care a lot about each other, and that's the important thing. Everything else you'll figure out as you go.

Yeah, no, it might be just a little unusual.

( He agrees wryly. That's just, like, the biggest understatement of all time is all. So, here's this guy I met in a train bathroom who sewed up my massive monster gash wounds, then a while later I kissed him as an eighteen year old in a dream while he was crying, and then we went to another universe where we were secretly kind of married and last week we finally had our first date. They don't really make guides for navigating that particular dynamic.

But you know what, considering how hard Ian tanks normal relationships, maybe it's because he's meant for weird as fuck ones instead.

He shakes his head. )

Anyway, brace yourself, because if I fuck it up somehow you're morally obligated to do the crying into pints of ice cream to sad movies trope because it's written in the small print on your degrees. I know, I did my research.

Oh no, not crying into ice cream. How will I ever suffer through that.

[Although, now that he mentions it--]

Though I think I'd have to be doing that for both you and Nate, so I'd prefer if you don't mess up after all. I'm not sure I actually need that much ice cream.

Real friends sacrifice their hips and thighs to the cause.

( He informs Lance kindly, taking another sip of his coffee more to cement the point than anything. Stupid play acting. Once the bit's done, he absently hugs the mug somewhere near his sternum. )

So that's my stuff, what's going on with you, man?

[It's such a stupid comment that he can't help but laugh a little, though he soon gives Ian a bit of a flat look for turning the conversation back on him. But despite that, after a moment to sip at his coffee he does answer, even if it's still somewhat reserved.]

I'm just... Adjusting, I guess. Reevaluating.

[Being incredibly vague, apparently, and one of the things he's been reevaluating is being so closed off, so after a moment--]

Trying to figure out how to start actually dealing with things without like, putting myself out of commission for a month.

[He says it more into his coffee than at Ian, even though it's definitely meant for him.]

( The honest answer earns Lance a quiet, appreciative little smile. Just a brief tug of his lips in understanding, not quite sad but perhaps some lighter offshoot. )

I'm glad you're at least thinking about it. That's a good start.

( Because it probably could've been very easy to just keep on ignoring the fact that there was a problem at all. Not acknowledging splinters under your skin is a tendency Ian definitely has — arguably, he might be burying his own right now, too. )

What options have you been mulling over? Any ideas so far?

[The encouragement without making a big deal out of it helps put him a little more at ease, not that he'd really expected anything different from Ian, but although Lance tends to be optimistic he's also prepared for the worst. So it's always nice when the outcome is his optimism being rewarded, instead of the alternative.

He shrugs at the question, as if the topic is casual, but his gaze is still fixed on his coffee even as he does offer a real answer.]

Right now I'm just trying to identify as many aspects of everything as I can, so I'm not surprised by or end up missing anything I should be working through when I start doing so.

[It's easy to mistake one trauma for another, or to not recognize a connection or underlying part of it. Without facing all of it, the process can drag out and become disheartening, because dealing with what's thought to be the issue doesn't yield the expected results.

And because the followup question is probably obvious, and he's doing his best to hold to that decision to actually talk, he elaborates a little.]

You know, um... When I woke up in Hadriel, I was healed enough that I could survive, but that was it. Healing naturally took months; I still have some lingering effects, and I'd have more if some of my friends hadn't been able to use magic to take care of the worst of it.

[He taps the fingers of his right hand against his coffee mug in an indication, but doesn't explain that particular part further.]

I've been thinking about what I do remember of that whole experience, but mostly I've been realizing that there's so much I don't. At the time--and up until now, I guess--I'd kind of just brushed it off as something that was necessary to get through because I didn't have any other choice, but maybe it was a little more serious than that if I've blocked it out.

[It sounds really stupid to put into words, which is part of the reason he doesn't like to talk about his own problems, even though he'd never think that about someone else.]

( He's got a quiet, patient energy to him. Happy to silently sit, moving only to gently lower his mug and absently thumb around the rim of it while Lance talks. Not that he's ever attended more than like two undergraduate psych classes, but he's got the vague notion in the back of his mind that sometimes it's more about letting someone talk about something out loud than anything else. Just talking about things can be hugely important. Especially someone like Lance, who even plays "playing things close to the chest" close to the chest.

It doesn't slip past him that it's probably a really rare display of trust. )

I don't know how... impactful it is from a mental health standpoint to remember every detail of what happened, because I just, like... build trash compactors and have strong opinions about screwdrivers. You'd know way better than me. But, I think... at the very least, the fact that not knowing is weighing on you even now means it's probably important to you at least on some level. If it's been this long and you're still thinking about it, it seems like... the only way to get that to ease up is to maybe like... detail what you remember. Somehow. Write it out, or... have someone help you replay it, or something. It's probably hard to analyze why you don't remember what you don't remember, or... analyze what upsets you about what you do remember if you don't have the whole picture.

[There are many reasons why Lance is so guarded, most of them coming down to two main categories: not wanting to make other people have to worry about dealing with his problems, and a fear of how they'd react if they knew about them. He doesn't want to hurt people, and he doesn't want to deal with their judgements.

But for now, so far, he's been convinced that neither of those main reasons are an issue here. Of course he's still hesitant, still waiting for something to go wrong and to realize he's made a mistake by extending the trust and belief that this is all okay, but so far that hasn't happened.

So he's able to talk and to listen in return, even if he hasn't been able to actually look at Ian again yet and is still speaking to his coffee when he responds.]

That's good advice. You have the right idea; that's the sort of thing I'd normally suggest.

[And in fact Lance had kept a journal in Hadriel, at least for awhile; in doing so, especially in writing down things as they happened and as he'd figured out how they affected him, he'd learned most of the things he knows are still problems now.

But he realizes he hadn't really made his point clear, which isn't Ian's fault at all, and so after a moment more of hesitation he clarifies a little.]

I remember the important things, I think; meeting people, learning about Hadriel itself, even some casual conversations. But it isn't so much that I'm concerned about what I might've blocked out, it's...

[He stops because he finds it difficult to talk for a moment, a rush of sudden tangled emotion that he has to try to control taking all of his attention. Great. Another indicator that dealing with these sorts of things--whether or not this issue specifically--is long overdue.

It only takes a few seconds before he finds his voice again and he tries to pass off the pause as just a moment of choosing his words, though how his grip on the coffee mug tightens probably gives him away all on its own.]

There wasn't really any medical care, in Hadriel. There were a few healers, and some really basic supplies, but that was it, so I was just kind of... On my own, not just for the emotional aspect, but the physical part of it too. I guess I've just never really stopped to let myself realize how hard that was.

[It's hard enough dealing with finding yourself in another world to begin with, let alone doing so after something like what happened to Lance at home. But having to handle of that while also going through the kind of physical aftermath that came with his altercation at home, to the point where a few of the moments he does remember are just nothing but how much pain he was in, is its entirely its own trauma that he hasn't really allowed himself to consider until recently.

But although he's convinced himself to share this much, the urge to deflect and make himself less vulnerable is too strong to ignore, so he adds with a false lightness--]

At least that's one good thing about this place, right? Free medical care.

( That deflection at the end is exactly the kind of thing Ian would do himself. He gets the impulse, he really does, he understands a few dozen potential reasons why. He's always been decent at letting people talk about themselves, and he's always been decent at being fake as fuck. He knows wise-sounding kind things to say that make people feel heard, but that don't actually involve giving away any part of himself in the process.

He could do that here really easily.

But he's got Kyna now, and he's got Nate, and he's learning from both of them. Plus, like, five minutes ago he dropped the whole we have a trusty honesty bond-y thing, so.

Yeah, maybe he'll keep on this whole streak of trying to do stuff right. )

I can't say that I get it. I mean, I get it in bits and pieces. I survived it, but I went through the end of the world alone. It's kind of like falling down a well and just... living down there not acknowledging the fact that it's dark. Physically, I was usually fine. When I did die in the aerie... that fucking sucked, but you actually... kind of made it a point to be there immediately, so I never really had to deal with being alone after that. So like—

( They've never been particularly touchy, him and Lance, but he's... kind of channeling somebody here, and it feels like it might be... the right call? So he reaches out to slowly wrap a hand around Lance's sleeve. )

I know this doesn't really... help fix the stuff you're still gonna have to work through over that, because that's a huge box of trauma to unpack. But. Just so we're clear, you know you don't have to deal with stuff on your own anymore, right?

Edited 2021-03-01 08:43 (UTC)

[He isn't really expecting Ian to share anything, and so when he does--especially as an expression of understanding--Lance listens carefully, even if his gaze is mostly on his coffee and only briefly flickering toward Ian. He's still listening, taking in what Ian says, that connection there in different situations and yet similar experiences.

'Not acknowledging the fact that it's dark' is a very good descriptor of the last two years.

The slow movement means Ian reaching out toward him prompts more confusion than alarm, but then it's just a reassuring touch and even more reassuring words, and suddenly Lance realizes something as though pieces have finally clicked together.

Maybe it's less that he needs anyone to help him in actually dealing with what happened--he knows how to do that, knows how to face things and identify them and work through them--and more that he just needs an acknowledgment that what happened was really difficult to go through. That it's valid to be so traumatized by it all, that he isn't overreacting, that so many things happened at once and all of them were horrific in their own rights. That someone cares, even if they can't necessarily understand all of it, and that he isn't expected to just be okay.

He knows, logically, that this is something that he's been denying himself by refusing to truly talk to anyone. Even people he truly, completely trusts, like Nate, he'd always found a reason not to talk to; he hadn't wanted to give him more problems, or put that kind of pressure on him. And with others, even people he'd logically known would care, he'd still be so afraid he'd be wrong. That they'd judge him, or dismiss him, or not even attempt to understand, and in a way he wouldn't have been able to blame them; this is so much to deal with, and he still feels that irrational sense that it isn't fair to put that sort of thing on someone.

And so he never really has. He's told some people pieces of what happened, or sometimes even the entirety of one of the particular experiences, but always in a way in which he wraps it all back up at the end and moves on.

So he wonders, really, if that acknowledgement might be a lot of it. Not all of it, of course--like Ian said, it's so much to unpack--but much of what he couldn't just do on his own. A missing piece right at the start.

It isn't an emotional revelation, more of a logical one, and so it isn't so overwhelming; not just yet, anyway. Maybe it will be more when he thinks about it later, but for now it's just new understanding, and maybe a little hope that dealing with all of this won't be quite as daunting as it feels.

And so, with a weak smile and a quiet but certain tone, he manages to look at Ian as he responds.]

Right. We're clear.

[Then, slightly stronger--]

Thanks. For...

['For listening' is what he'd normally say, but that's not quite right.]

For caring.

[To listen, to try to understand, to offer support and want to help. Any one of those things is more than he expects from anyone, let alone all of them.]

( Ian doesn't always get to know when he's made the right choice in a relationship or a dynamic. That's one of the reasons he struggles with them so much. With machinery, with math, there are rigid rules and logic. There are clearly defined solutions with unmistakable outputs that tell you whether or not you were successful in the work you've done. Relationships are a wide and turbulent ocean, they're abstract and things ripple out in ways he can't preemptively quantify. He rarely gets an immediate payoff that makes him feel confident.

But he's pretty sure he just nailed it. It isn't that it hits his ego, it's not that it makes him feel smug or anything. It just feels satisfying, like taking a deep breath after holding it for a while. Amazing what can happen when you actually let yourself connect with somebody instead of taking the less frightening dodge action.

He gives Lance's shoulder one last soft squeeze, and then his hand drops away. )

You're welcome, man. Of course.

( It's genuinely his pleasure, he's got a lifetime of fucking up to balance out. )

I think this is the part where I deflect with humor to gloss over the emotional vulnerability of the moment, but I can't really think of anything witty and off the cuff, so... You know. Fill it in with your imagination.

@ian.fowler

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