unianterested

[unianterested]

mia-calloway​:

A feigned look of horror came to the girl’s face as Mia even went as far as to place her hand against her chest. “Excuse you, are you trying to say that I share gross things with you. I would never.” That was a lie, but whatever. Sometimes she let it slip out about her latest hookup, didn’t mean Ian had to get all squeamish about it. They were both adults here, he could handle knowing that his little sister was having sex as long as she didn’t get into all the dirty details. She pulled out a container and handed it to the boy, rolling her eyes as she did so. “Yes, there’s bacon in it, weirdo. Just don’t get all weird. It’s not any of that fancy crap you’re fond of, but it’s food and for some of us normal people, it’s yummy food.” She leaned in, pressing a quick kiss against her brother’s cheek then offering him a smile.

When first finding out about his diagnosis, she had wondered how this would change them. Would she still be able to tease him as she did? Would she still be able to call him a freak or a weirdo? Ultimately, she had decided to keep things as they had always been. After all, changing would have been far too apparent and who knows, maybe it would have made everything worse. “But, no. My news has nothing to do with my recently anti-climactic love life. It has more to do with the fact that we hired a new person at the bar, which means I won’t be practically dying every weekend night.”

Ian cocked a look at Mia’s feigned horror that said that he saw right through her. He wasn’t a particularly nosy person when it came to his little sister’s love life but there was an inherent protectiveness that came with being an older sibling. Nothing taught him boundaries better than snooping through her things at seventeen but in case he hadn’t learned the hard way, scraping Mia’s drunken body from various steps would surely cement that idea that he was better off not asking.

“Bacon is fancy in its own right. It has a very distinct flavor that separates it from pancetta. You’d know that if you ever got home before I eat all the leftovers.”

He fiddled with the plastic bags, despite not wanting anything in them. Then he fidgeted with the boxes, picking them apart and folding them back together while he passively listened. He was usually good at listening, and happy to do it, but that evening, his mind ran a mile a minute. Thoughts about what he was going to accomplish tomorrow-- or even the next few hours popped into his head like spring daisies. 

“That’s great news. I definitely needed you to come home with more energy than you do,” he commented. 

“What happened to the last guy? What’s his name...” Ian gestured vaguely in front of his face, imitating a hairdo that he couldn’t think of.

[unianterested]

sacha-fowler​:

Sacha was a morning person, she’d been raised that way, and she arrived at the rink earlier than when she was meeting Ian, fresh faced, bright eyed and bushy tailed as ever. She’d stood in the lobby for a little while, warming up and running her routine a few times, practicing her jumps on solid ground until everything felt good and limber and performance ready. Part of her wished she’d brought her metal spinner but that might have been overkill when she could practice that on the ice. 

When she finally got on the ice at eight thirty, Ian was nowhere to be found but she assumed he’d be in shortly, he was probably just putting his skates on! She decided she’d run a couple moves until he arrived, but after ten minutes and he still wasn’t there, she decided to put the music on and she could get into the routine so she was at her best when he arrived. 

Sacha loved this routine, it made her feel pretty and it made her feel powerful as she soared around the ice, landing every jump and finishing the routine with a flourish. That final fast upright spin ended and she finished with a pose and bright grin. That’s when she spotted Ian standing against the barrier and she skated over, wringing her hands together because he didn’t exactly look enthused. 

She didn’t think that was a bad performance, she knew there was a shaky jump in there and it wasn’t perfect yet, but it wasn’t awful. 

A sigh of relief when he explained what he was thinking, returning back to her smiley self. “You really think so? Thank you,” She grinned, placing her fingers on the barrier and nodded as he listed where she needed to improve. He was right, she did know that those needed to get better before competition season,. “You’re right, I felt it.” Sach nodded along, making mental notes of every critique he made so she could work on them in the future. 

Ian bobbed his head at her enthusiasm, a little taken aback at how easily she took his criticisms. Most people didn’t take him well, much less his tips and pointers but failure had taught him that perfection was rarely something one just happens by. 

He smiled at her and stepped onto the ice, skating a languid arc around her. “It took me a long time to get my lutz right too. Lots of falling. I remember one time I got my skate stuck in the ice and ate shit. Blood, everywhere. It wasn’t pretty.”

Ian laughed a little after explaining, as if there was something inherently humorous about spilling blood all over the rink. With how much people regarded the place, it was sacrilegious to dirty it (but Ian would’ve argued that the Knights did that all the time already with their presence). 

Once his laughter died down, he took off on the ice. He crossed his skates one over the other, picking up momentum as he glided backwards before kicking off into a simple lutz with an extended leg, just to demonstrate the technicality behind the maneuver. He opened his arms out to the rink.

“No blood,” he declared. “It just takes some practice-- not that you need me to tell you that. I’m sure your coach has gone through it with you already.”

[unianterested]

caroline-evergreen​:

Caroline watched him fumble about with mirth in her eyes. It must be awkward to even think about touching another person, but, well, what the fuck did it matter to her. This was all for some fun and a moment to break out of her shell. Some fun. That’s all she needed right now. A distraction.

She skated closer to him before taking his hands and putting them on her hips. “I promise I don’t bite. Much.” Caroline snorted before realizing just how awkward it was to be this close to another person, to trust them into throwing her somewhere. “If you drop me I am going to be so pissed.”

Suddenly this whole thing was getting a little overwhelming. Usually she didn’t trust people enough to get this close to her, let alone teach her something she rarely let others know she loved so much. Nervous, she swallowed hard and started to move just a little bit. “Do we skate together first or do you throw me first?”

“We’re skating first. If we can’t sync a promenade, there’s no use trying to coordinate anything else.” 

Ian said it matter-of-factly as if he and Lorelei hadn’t struggled with it upon reuniting. At one point, it felt like second nature to fall by her side and then the next, it was like learning to walk again.

He gave Caroline a sideways look before moving his hands from her hips to take her hands delicately into his. Ian took the lead, using his own momentum to take her along with him. He was careful to avoid her feet, knowing all too well the hazards of getting chopped by a skate after one too many clumsy swizzles.

“When we get to the end, we’re going to do a simple lift. All you have to remember to do is keep your arms and legs straight. Got it?”

[unianterested]

mia-calloway​:

She knew that she probably shouldn’t be coming into their home being loud as all hell. In fact, they had probably had a conversation about that at some point, but it was too easy to forget all of that as she was practically bouncing with excitement. It wasn’t really anything important or monumental, but she was still as excited as ever as she placed a paper bag of takeout food onto the counter and started to pull things out. “Ian! Broseph, you around? If not I’m gonna eat all of this food on my own!”

Hearing that the bar was getting a new hire to work some of the busier nights with her had just made her feel a million times better. Of course Mia loved her job. That job allowed her to meet interesting people and if she wore the right kind of top, she got plenty of tips for her efforts. It was just also insanely exhausting on the weekend nights and not worth it to come home ready to fall over in the doorway. “Ian, get your happy ass in here. It’s not fancy stuff, but I brought you a salad and I have things to tell you!” @unianterested​

Ian poked his head out from his room, looking a bit like he’d been up for way too long and maybe he had been. There was a restless energy that congealed in his chest like a big ball of gum, sticking to all the insides of his limbs and keeping him wide-eyed and lively past a period where he wanted it to. For once, a part of him was glad that Mia came home with a ruckus because it gave him something to pour his energy into.

“There better be bacon in that salad. I’m not a herbivore,” he said as he entered the kitchen, hovering over her shoulder to take a gander at what she brought home. It smelled good but did little for his appetite. Still, Ian went through the motions of looking interested. Acting, after all, was something that required energy.

“What is it? Don’t tell me if it’s gross, I don’t need to know anything about your latest fling.”

[unianterested]

☎ (for Caroline)

NAME:  ❄️ 💙 Caroline

RINGTONE: Don’t Dream It’s Over by Crowded House

PICTURE:

[unianterested]

☎

NAME:   👊 👊 Kyle

RINGTONE: Just A Girl by No Doubt

PICTURE:

[unianterested]

☎

NAME:  ❄️ Manning

RINGTONE: Anything Goes/ Anything You Can Do

PICTURE:

[unianterested]

“That’s a face you’re making. I don’t know what it’s called but you’re making it.”

Ian was very much a morning person, to the dismay of all his housemates whose chaotic schedules left them in shambles until the very last hour of the weekend. He wouldn’t have minded it so much if it didn’t occasionally get in his way. Whether it was a smoking toaster or a jammed pipe, Ian was the only one responsible enough in the apartment to stop and take a look at it, call the building manager and wait for them to show up before he could leave.

This made him frantic in his lateness to the rink. He hardly knew Sacha but first impressions were everything and the last thing Ian wanted was to seem like he’d offered to come for show. 

Ian arrived in the middle of her performance. It looked to be a warm-up or a practice run of one of her programs by the distant noise of music coming from a tiny device on the bench. He leaned on the barrier and watched as she whipped across the ice like a gazelle, spinning and moving in a way that rang nostalgic for him. Her blonde hair swished in a flurry behind her and for a moment, if he blurred his eyes, it almost looked like...

He batted his eyes when she addressed him and cocked his head at the anxiety radiating off of her. She really was green. His expression softened a little.

“That’s what you call shock and awe. It was amazing, Sacha. Ambitious and could us a little tightening up but it’s got personality. The last jump was under rotated and I think you know that you need to work on that lutz. You’re pre-turning too early and losing momentum in the pick which isn’t giving you a lot of height. Maybe try a single until you can get a bit higher.”

@sacha-fowler​

[unianterested]

☎️

NAME: ❄️ Sacha

RINGTONE: New In Town by Little Boots

PICTURE:

[unianterested]

☎ (but now it's isa)

NAME: ❌ ⚠️ Do Not Answer ⚠️ 🚨

RINGTONE: O Fortuna - Carl Orff

PICTURE:

[unianterested]

☎

NAME: ❄️ Lorelei Lyons

RINGTONE: The Devil’s Daughter by Laura St. Jude

PICTURE: 

[unianterested]

Put ☎ in my ask for your muses info in my muses phone:

[unianterested]

🎭

🎭 - How does your muse handle their emotions? Do they bottle them up or pour them out as soon as they start to feel?

Ian is a mixed bag. It depends on his mood since it can be very difficult for him to hide his feelings when they shift so dramatically. For the most part, he does his best to keep himself contained but tends to lean into sadness more often than not, which, despite it being his default, is an expression of his depression.

It’s not a secret to the people around him how he’s feeling, but he tries to upkeep the cold and unfeeling persona as much as he can. Ian doesn’t like to be seen as an emotional person, but he is. He’s very empathetic and anyone within an eye’s distance can see it, which is why he tries to be as reclusive as possible. 

Although it’s obvious, he doesn’t always express them with words. Often, Ian subverts his feelings with a frostiness that is more of a projection than anything. It doesn’t hide the fact that he’s uncomfortable or feeling some kind of way. He’s a pretty obvious person, if one can suss out the patterns.

[unianterested]

💸

💸 - What does your muse think of wealthy people? Do they resent them, or do they believe they earned what they have?

Ian definitely has complex feelings about rich people and wealth in general. He didn’t grow up having a lot of money since his mother was kind of a train wreck so he’s always been a little resentful of those who could afford what he couldn’t. He’s cultivated a very DIY/thrifty lifestyle because of it but he also really wants that luxury and comfort of not having to work so hard for pennies.

I guess it’s safe to say he’s a bit jealous. He also doesn’t think wealthy people earn their keep. On principle, if that was true, he’d have a lot more money than he does now but he doesn’t so there must be more to the equation than just hard work.

Ian is also extremely aware of what a wealthy and well-to-do appearance gets him so he puts a lot of weight in that too, even if he wished he didn’t have to.

[unianterested]

Thought-Provoking Headcanon Meme

Send a symbol and I’ll answer the question about my muse. (Or answer in character. Whatever works for you!)

⛔️ - How does your muse react to others breaking the law? If they would do it themselves, what is their reasoning? 🚑 - If your muse was the only person around and someone was injured, would they help? Would they have the experience needed? 💸 - What does your muse think of wealthy people? Do they resent them, or do they believe they earned what they have? 🆘 - What does your muse think of poor people? Do they think they’re a waste of space, or do they want to help them? 📩 - Does your muse prefer to physically write letters or send them online? What is their reasoning? 📢 - Does your muse have a loud personality or a quiet one? Do they enjoy being the center of attention, or would they rather watch and listen? 📊 - How does your muse feel about the state of the world? Could it be better? Could it be worse? 👨 - What is your muse’s relationship like with their father? Is it good, bad, or complicated? 👩 - What is your muse’s relationship like with their mother? Is it good, bad, or complicated? 👧 - What is your muse’s relationship like with their siblings? Who do they get along with best? 👶 - If they have any, what is your muse’s relationship like with their children? Do they feel like they’re a good parent? 👻 - Does your muse believe in an afterlife? What do they think it’s like? ⏰ - Does your muse feel like they need to do things quickly or do they take their time? ⌛️ - How often does your muse think about death? Do they think about it at all? 🔗 - What are your muse’s standards for meaningful relationships? How quickly do they form relationships like these? 🚹 - How would your muse react to losing their father? How would they cope? 🚺 - How would your muse react to losing their mother? How would they cope? 🚼 - How would your muse react to losing a child? How would they cope? 💧 - How would your muse react to losing a best friend? How would they cope? 💔 - How would your muse react to losing a romantic partner? How would they cope? 🐜 - How does your muse feel about animal lives? Do they treat them the same way they’d treat a person, or do they feel they’re inferior? 🌎 - Does your muse want to change the world? How would they go about it? 🎭 - How does your muse handle their emotions? Do they bottle them up or pour them out as soon as they start to feel? 💋 - How does your muse feel about people who cheat? Do they see a reason for it, or is it completely immoral? 🌠 - Would your muse make a wish on a star? If so, what would they wish for? 🎁 - Does your muse celebrate their birthday? If yes, how do they celebrate? If no, why not? 🍟 - How does your muse feel about their body? Would they change it if they could? 💅 - How does your muse feel about gender roles? Do they conform to them, or do they play by their own rules? 🌺 - Does your muse have a favorite flower? Why do they like it?

[unianterested]

Ian was a creature of habit and routine, to everyone’s dismay. He was staunch and particular and uncompromising when it came to his daily rituals whether it was his diet or the way he parted his hair. After punching it into his head that things went sideways the moment he did anything out of order (thanks to his disorder), his routines started taking on a more superstitious value than he’d like and that morning, it crossed his mind that maybe sticking in order was contributing to his bad luck on the ice.

 Things with Lorelei were, for the most part, fine, but things always looked good before the turning point. He’d failed enough times to know that getting cocky before the moment of truth was a sure route to failure which was why he decided to take the elevator instead of the stairs that evening.

The elevator hummed as it descended the floors, the bell chiming in tune as the numbers counted down to the bottom. A restless energy sat heavy in his gut, building up the anticipation for something he wasn’t sure of yet but it was there and waiting anxiously. 

Then it came in the form of a dark-haired girl with bushels of what looked like props and costumes-- or maybe it was all recycling. He couldn’t tell, but instinct told him to slam the button to close the doors before she got in.

Isadora Morgan was likely another one of his plentiful mistakes-- not that he’d call her one to her face but their relationship felt like a whirlwind of impulses that amounted to a disastrous end. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but two people seeking solace during rough times did not a relationship make. Their differences were quick to fill the chasm between them at first chance and Ian didn’t really look back in fear of piling on the self-hatred again (as if he needed more of that).

He shuffled aside when she shuffled in with her load, making no comment on the fact that the elevator soon became representative of their relationship. Her, loud and boisterous and demanding of the air in the room and him, trying to keep a piece of it for himself.

Ian blew out an annoyed breath at the distance she put between him and the panel. Of course,  this was what he got for deviating from his plan.

“I thought you moved out,” he said plainly, staring intensely at the numbers at the top of the cell. 

@isadoramorgan​

[unianterested]

Ian was a particular person with a particular schedule that he rarely deviated from. It was practice, work, practice, sleep; rinse and repeat. It made for tough social interactions with his peers who wanted him out late to which he always dismissed with the fact that he wasn’t very fun to begin with. His roommate and sister tended to fill in the blanks where he couldn’t be, having enough respect for his aspirations to let him do this thing. Mia, especially, understood that he had things in place for a reason and made some effort to keep the ruckus down past 9PM.

Not everyone was so kind, however. Ian didn’t come with an instruction manual that said ‘don’t bother me between the hours of now and ever’ but it was heavily implied by how little attention he paid to his phone. 

That evening was different. The restlessness that crept up on him as summer neared had gone from annoying to unbearable, wrestling with his meticulous schedule like an unruly dog that wanted to get out. It was the only reason he was up past 9, scrolling through his phone which allowed messages to bleed through the DND settings on his phone. 

Message after message popped up from one particular person he didn’t really care to talk to anymore but they persisted until his phone rang. Ian stared at the IDless number; a fragment of a history he didn’t care much to excavate past puberty. It was a hurried, stupid mistake he couldn’t seem to find reason to other than it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Like most things in his life, Ian could never quite find a way to explain what he was thinking.

His mind pawed at him to answer like his subconscious was hankering for the trouble to pour its energy into. Ian answered the call.

“Why are you calling at this hour?” he demanded gracelessly. It wasn’t absurdly late, but he was absurdly annoyed to be haunted. “Don’t tell me you’re drunk.”

@jacexcollins​