ian couldn't escape it anywhere. he'd spent the week being dragged in and out of the police station and now he lacked peace even in his own home. he had just finished scrubbing the splash of red paint off his truck when gravel crunched next to the trailer. headlights pierced his vision illuminating him into a haunted, gaunt thing. he dropped the soapy sponge back into the bucket and stalked forward, figure imposing against the night sky. "if you're here from that stupid podcast." he called out. "you should know that the cops will still arrest you even if you think you're doing vigilante shit." he peered around trying to see who was in the driver's seat.
aiyla was a morning person. she wasn't sure if it was genetic or ingrained in her after a lifetime of 5 am rehearsals, but regardless it meant that she got to people watch while she enjoyed her tea and oatmeal. she was able to observe little things, like how some people struggled to open their eyes in the harsh fluorescent lights or winced every time someone shut a door a little too loudly. others tapped their feet impatiently and stared at the chalkboard menu like it would make their order magically appear in their ( usually ) manicured hand. she turned a page of her case report and glanced at one of these poor, unfortunate souls, “looking for a ditch to lay face-down in? i can recommend one.”
for all that aiyla was beautiful ian reckoned she probably didn't like him very much. given the sheer amount of times he'd been dragged into the police station and accusive of vandalizing a car, robbing a store, or most recently murdering hope mercer he doubted anyone in the police station actually liked him. he gripped his black coffee a little too white-knuckled and frowned. "has anyone ever told you that you're charming?"
"what just because of... everything happening in town, i can't go out and have a good night? i'm in mourning or whatever. i should be allowed to have fun. not sit in a room and wait like a little psycho." he had an image of some serial killer in a room full of photos of hope and girls who look like hope and obnoxious red string and cork board. that's what cops should be looking for, not asking him to stay in town the next few days.
"i'm buying shots, i'm going dancing, i'm not going to sit around and wear a black veil or whatever high society expects."
god this kid was a fucking punk. ian could taste the spit in his mouth as he clenched his teeth trying to keep himself in line. he really couldn't get in trouble on parole and with everything going on he doubted anyone would cut him a break if he punched him in the nose. he squared his jaw finishing off the soda water he'd been sipping at. "have a little tact man." he grunted, rising to his full height. "your girlfriend's dead." a harsh phrasing but it would get his point across. he just couldn't listen to him moan about how hope's death was a problem for him any longer.
family: siobhan mcneal (mother), robert lund (father), billie dimaggio (half-sister)
𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘
ON THE RAINY september day when ian was born robert lund demanded a paternity test, a chronic bastard he had barely waited for his girlfriend at the time-a whip-smart, irish immigrant named siobhan mcneal to stop laboring before declaring that the baby didn’t look like him at all and he wasn’t paying any goddamn money for someone else’s kid. though he was an ass it was at least easy to leave him for siobhan. a newly minted citizen she was happy to raise her son without anyone’s help. she work nights at the gas station and mornings at the diner just to scrape by, but gave her son the best life she could, called him cillian to give him a good strong name that would serve him will in life.
cillian, or ian as he preferred, learned from a young age how to take care of himself and his mother. he was a trailer park rat through and through with summers playing in someone’s hose and knocking each other’s teeth out rolling around in the dirt. he never let anyone talk down at him-learned quick not to pull his punches because nobody else would. he was a natural-born protector always trailing behind his mother in case anyone had the bad luck to try. life was peaceful mostly, robert would swoop in from time to time and fuck up his psyche but that was given. he saw some of worse habits reflected in his father, his anger, his paranoia. he’d always felt like the world was out to get him and his mother.
in high school ian grew into his own, he started playing football and besides having been 6′3″ since he was 14 with shoulders as big as a door frame he had a natural aptitude for the sport. his star quickly rose and for the first time in his life he was someone people wanted to be around. that kind of popularity was addicting to someone who’d never had a taste of it. he was on the road to a d1 scholarship and a possible career in the pros when he blew out his knee senior year. just like that all of his hopes of giving his mom a better life were dashed, he sunk into depression and cut off any friends he’d made in his short time in the in-crowd.
in the following years the crowd he fell in with was a less than desirable young. he was constantly getting in trouble, dragged into the police station for public intoxication or starting bar fights. he had a lot of pent-up anger from having his future stripped away and channeled into every bad choice he could make. when he was 23 some serious shit went down and he took the fall for all of it, his so-called friends leaving him to deal with the consequences of their actions alone. the prosecution’s star witness was none other than hope mercer, pushed by outside forces to edit her story into confirming that ian was solely responsible for the crime. and just like that his freedom was gone, sentenced to fourteen years he got out last year on good behavior and overcrowding need on parole.
as small towns are like to do the tragic tale of ian mcneal was spun and twisted in his absence. when got back the story had turned into a tale of murder and mystery around the football star that went crazy after losing his shot. he was a social pariah, squirreled away as the town’s black sheep. his mother had grown sick, contracting lymphoma. there was no hope of leaving mercer hollow any time soon and very few job opportunities for an excon. he got a security job at the bank in the day and worked weekends at a strip joint in liberty. even with his mother’s medical bills bankrupting it was still nearly impossible for him to accept help.
with hope mercer dead and his tire tracks in the dirt where her body was dumped all eyes are turned back onto ian as one of the main suspects. he finds himself the subject of a witch hunt lead by the more judgemental residents of mercer hollow who couldn’t possibly believe that one of the distinguished, wealthy residents of the town could be responsible for such a tragedy.
𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘
ian’s always been a natural protector and defender. his entire life he’s been the first one to throw a punch or stick up for the little guy. he had quietly hoped for a better life than the one he’s been handed but now he knows that it just won’t come. he’s a lowkey sweetheart who just wants the people in his life to be safe and happy. his overprotective streak can sometimes spiral into control issues and the one thing he fears more than anything in life is ending up like his father. he’s a serious, responsible kind of man who still doesn’t take shit from anyone. he can seem hard on the surface but once you get to know him he’s got a soft heart.
𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒
the one that got away: this muse would have known ian in high school. where everything else was real they were real. ian, a romantic at heart was over the moon to have someone. they seemed to fit together perfectly but ian broke up with them when he blew out his knee. there were a few letters sent to ian in prison but he never responded. now that he’s back in town what will happen?
friend for life: this is ian’s bro, someone who’s stuck by him through thick and thin and one of the few real friends he still has who hasn’t ducked and run after he’s become the town pariah.
scooby gang funny business: ian is currently the subject of a witch-hunt to find hope mercer’s killer. so in order to clear his name he’s been doing his own investigating trying to figure out who killed hope so it doesn’t get pinned on him. your muse is assisting him in the search for their own reasons.
gummygunk
2087
snowghoul
tangentwithtanner
dededos
