#Anyway. Sorry I poked an old hyperfixation and this came out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherrehx · 3 years

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okay so its 2am right now and I just thought of something really cute hhhh, so basically, how would kaminari, kirishima, todoroki and bakugou react to finding ship art or something of them and their crush?? I love your writing btw, it's so awesome 💕💕

super long wait, i know. half of this was written when bnha was still my hyperfixation, hence why it's one shots. the headcanons were written now, because i felt bad leaving out denki and eijirou. -cherry

katsuki bakugō:

it was just after nine in the afternoon. katsuki had already gone to sleep as per usual, though tonight he was rudely interrupted by loud knocking on his room's door.

"the hell do you want, loser?!", he shouted, still unsure of who was even at his door. everyone knew by now not to disturb him, so who dared to do so anyways?

getting out of bed and proceeding to open the door, the ash blond was slightly less angered when he saw eijirou standing there. said red head looked frantic because of something. bakugou honestly didn't even want to know what had got him so distraught, but he knew he wouldn't get his well deserved sleep otherwise,

"spit it out, shitty hair."

"we were looking at pictures from the sports festival online and we found something that you should maybe see for yourself!", eijirou started, realizing that he wasn't getting his friend's attention, so he added, "it's about you and (y/n)!"

kirishima was the only one that knew about bakugou's secret crush on you. that's why he wasn't laughing like everyone else in the common room; because what they found may cause complications.

after kirishima had mentioned your name, bakugou was swiftly jogging towards where almost all of his class was sitting gathered around a laptop, which seemed to be mina's, judging by all the leopardy and pink stickers on it.

"out of the way extras!", katsuki stomped over to see what all the fuss was about. from the corner of his eye he saw how you were cowering next to one of the couches, face covered by your hands. at first he couldn't understand why, but when he saw a particular piece of artwork displayed on the laptop screen, he figured you were just majorly embarrassed.

the art that his class found on google was from somebody's blog that was all about the 'heroes of the future!'. needless to say, the blog didn't only deal with the heroes, but also the relationships of them. ever since an encounter at the sports festival that a lot of people saw and shared around, you and bakugou had become a popular so called ship. (the girls explained that 'ship' didn't mean anything related to boats when they teased you about mentioned moment in front of him.)

katsuki couldn't help but feel embarrassed himself, but he also had to keep his cool to not seem suspicious. looking at the drawing of you and him one more time, the ash blond walked over to you, ignoring anything his class was saying.

"(y/n), you ok?", he crouched down to your level, poking your head once. his only response was a quiet hum, followed by a hiccup. worried, katsuki grabbed your hand tightly and pulled you outside the dorm.

the air was nice, not too hot, nor too cold. a light wind was blowing as the moon shone brightly.

bakugou gave you a little space and some time to calm down. when you did, he was quick to ask,

"what's the matter? did you get THAT embarrassed by it?"

you shook your head no. it was something more, but was this the right time to tell him?

"i was really embarrassed at first.", you started, "but then i thought about something and cried."

"about what?", the usually loud boy asked softly. silence was all he got for a good minute until you finally responded,

"you know how they say 'life imitates art'? i really wish it w-was like that..."

now you were the one getting silence as a response. did you really just say that?

"idiot, being all cryptic and shit.", katsuki tried to stay calm, even if he was freaking out on the inside, "if you want a kiss you can have it."

shōto todoroki:

mr. aizawa's classes had a pretty strict schedule most of the time: first the class would get an assignment, that they'd do until said teacher falls asleep. after that, everyone would quietly - in order to not wake up aizawa - do anything they want, really.

for shouto this was more or less just plainly boring, as he was one of the few students that actually did what they had to. he'd finish his work and then wait, because he had nothing else to do. he was most likely to bother midoriya, but today he was very into whatever he was writing down in his little book. so shouto settled for observing the classmates behaviour. well, rather your behaviour.

the half and half boy knew it was weird, but he liked watching you. he liked seeing you, especially when you were happy and smiling. todoroki knew what these 'symptoms' were, but he wanted everything to stay as it was for now.

why he had caught those feelings, he didn't know. he figured it was the way you stood out. you didn't get lost in between the others and he liked that.

while todoroki was deep in thought, ashido had walked over to your desk, where you were doing the assignment in peace and quiet,

"(y/n), look! the other's and i thought about how todoroki always stares at you so intensely, so we created these shipnames! which one do you like better?"

you looked at the paper or rather the newly created words and little pictures drawn by some of your classmates and immediately turned red. flailing your hands around a little, you lied,

"none of these, i don't...like todoroki in that way."

mina looked a tad upset at that, but she understood, nodded and walked back to her table. you sort of felt bad, having killed her excitement, but you didn't need anyone knowing about your secret crush on the stoic one.

speaking of the stoic one, he couldn't hear anything you and mina had talked about. he only saw her walking over, showing you something and you freaking out and sending her away. needless to say, he was curious what had caught you off guard so much. when shouto saw mina throwing away that suspicious piece of paper, he decided to look at it when class ended. even if he thought sticking his hand in the trash was a little gross.

the end of class came sooner than expected. shouto was packing his bag slower than usual, waiting until everyone had left. after they did, he skipped over to the trash can, pulling out the latest addition: a piece of paper that embarrassed (y/n)!

he stuffed it in his bag and carried on walking to his dorm room, where he finally felt safe looking at it, " 'ship names'? why would they want to name a boat after (y/n) and i?", he asked himself, before a certain doodle on the page explained your reaction and the girls' name-mixing. even shouto couldn't help but react in some way, thinking about said doodle happening in real life. that's when he got startled by a knock on his door.

"hey, todoroki. i know you always do your work in class, so i thought i'd come and ask you about...", you drifted off, seeing the light blush on his cheeks and his fire side burning, "...umm, am i interrupting something?"

he was hiding a piece of paper behind his back. you could see just the corner of it, but that was enough for you to identify what paper it was.

"didn't take you for the nosey type.", you akwardly laughed in order to drown out your embarrassment.

"sorry, i got curious.", he looked unusually upset, averting his heterochromatic eyes and letting his arms drop on his sides. you confirmed the paper was indeed the one that mina showed you earlier.

"did you dislike it a lot?", shouto asked without thinking.

now it was your turn to blush.

denki kaminari:

-ok hear me out

-his love language has to be physical touch

-so naturally, when you guys and the rest of the bakusquad had a sleepover, you cuddled

-platonically of course (even though both of you had feelings for one another, but shh)

-oh, but mina couldn't let this one slip

-she HAD to take a picture

-in the morning, when you were still only half awake, mina ecstatically showed her phone into your face

-"LOOK, (Y/N), YOU GUYS ARE THE CUTEST!"

-queue embarrassed (y/n) and denki

eijirō kirishima:

-i feel like with him, you had been like childhood friends

-and back in the day, you guys were all like

-"i'm gonna marry you when i'm older!"

-so you engraved a little "eijirō & (y/n)" into a tree

-years and years later you guys go back to that spot

-just because you wanted to reminisce the good old days

-you guys find the carvings

-"you know, (y/n), i still haven't changed my mind."

-"what do you mean, eijirou?"

-"i'd still marry you."

#headcanons #eijirou kirishima x reader #one shots #katsuki bakugou x reader #denki kaminari x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #x reader #shōto todoroki #eijirō kirishima #katsuki bakugō #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha x reader #fanfiction

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itsallavengers · 7 years

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I present to you - Tony gives Peter his first weighted blanket

The only reason Tony noticed was because Tony knew what he was looking at.

The fidgeting. The hyperfixation on certain tasks. The sudden and seemingly random bouts of disassociation, where Peter seemed a million miles away from the situation, and then flinched wildly at the slightest touches or quietest of sounds.

Tony Stark knew ADHD and a sensory processing disorder when he saw it. He looked in the mirror every fucking morning, after all.

(read more, mobile users)

It made sense, once he thought about it. What had the kid said, at the very start- ‘it’s like everything is dialled up to eleven’. Yeah. Superhuman senses would do that to a kid. And Tony thought he’d had it bad. At least he’d had his whole life to learn how to deal with it. Peter had just woken up one day with… all of that.

Hell, medication probably wouldn’t even work on him. His enhancements just ate up most drugs and spat them back out immediately after, so it wasn’t like Tony could just hand him some Adderral and be on his way. And that was about as far as Tony went when it came to treating himself- for the rest of it, he just dealt with the sudden and overwhelming bouts of sensory overload by curling up in a dark corner and drinking until everything numbed out again- not exactly something he’d ever recommend to Peter. Ever ever ever.

So he was kinda stumped.

He kept an eye out as best he could- took the kid out of situations where he knew that sort of thing might get triggered, gave the suit an emergency Cleansheet mode that pretty much cancelled out everything other than basic functions and manual control. He did his best not to get pissed off when Peter would not stop fucking tapping at the desk, because God only knew he did it enough himself, and generally just attempted to guide the kid through methods of controlling it without actually admitting he faced the same problem himself.

Because it wasn’t exactly something he wanted to go around telling everyone, was it? I’m Tony Stark, biggest genius around, and that actually sucks a lot more than you’d think because for some reason it makes my brain hate me.

“Peter, Peter- slow down. You’re jumping again,” Tony told him, not looking up from the circuits his hands were fiddling with as Peter spun around on the chair beside him and talked a mile a minute about what appeared to be 4 completely different subjects at once. Tony could keep up, yeah- but it was more about trying to let Peter become aware of it so he didn’t do it around those who weren’t quite as quick as he was.

Peter paused for a good long moment, and then said “Huh?”

“Jumping, Peter,” Tony glanced up, wry smile on his face, “A to B, not A to Z, remember?”

The kid stared for another second, and then it seemed to click, because he blushed. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“No worries,” Tony said, turning back around. I do it to Pep all the time, he didn’t add on.

“Peter?” Tony said slowly, watching the kid from across the room as he curled in on himself, suit half hanging off his shoulders in the big open-plan space of the living room, “Peter, are you good, buddy?”

He knew there was nothing he could have done to stop the situation from unfolding- they’d needed spiderman to pick out the perps as they’d blended in through the massive carnival that had been running through New York, and Tony had had to prioritise. And Peter was already good enough at compartmentalising his shit that he’d been able to effectively pick out the guys and save the day.

He wasn’t so good with the after-effects of said compartmentalising.

“JARVIS, put the lights down, sound off, you know the drill,” Tony said quietly, removing his shoes and the jacket he knew probably smelt like all kinds of stuff to Peter’s sensitive nose. “Peter, I’m going to ask you one question, then I’m going to leave the room. Do you want me to put some quiet music on, or is that going to make things worse?”

Jerkily, Peter shook his head. Tony didn’t say anything- just grabbed his shoes off the floor and turned away. It was difficult and he didn’t want to, but he knew that staying there would be like a nightmare for Peter, who could hear his heartbeat and his breathing and the creaks his bones made when he flexed.

So he shut the door of the workshop and left Peter to come back to himself.

He knew Peter hadn’t been sleeping well, because neither had Tony.

It came with the territory, he guessed. And Peter was far, far too much like Tony for his own good anyway.

When the sensations and the nightmares and the sheer frustration at having almost every thought he tried to take hold of slip through his fingers became too much to handle, Tony brought out the bottle of whiskey he kept under the bed and put half of it in his stomach. It made his brain quieter, if only for a few hours.

Peter didn’t have that option. Tony hoped to god he didn’t, anyway.

He watched the boy move through rooms like a ghost, rubbing his eyes tiredly and jerking at every movement. The things he and Tony had been carefully working on were slipping- he’d gone back to jumping almost incomprehensibly through every conversation. and could not seem to concentrate on anything that wasn’t active fieldwork. It seemed the lack of sleep made everything worse, and in all honesty, it was driving Tony nuts.

“Peter?” He asked, clicking his fingers once in Peter’s face and giving him something to focus on, “Peter, just come with me for a second. I wanna show you something.”

He’d fished it out of storage weeks ago, but never quite found the courage to hand it over. Something he’d used as a teenager before discovering alcohol, and something he would probably still be using now if it weren’t for the fact that it wasn’t so much the ADHD or SPD keeping him up now as it was the horrifying depictions of world apocalypse.

Yeah. Anyway.

Peter stared at the blanket in Tony’s hands blankly for a few seconds, before looking up. The question was evident in his eyes.

“It’s a weighted blanket,” Tony huffed, trying to sound exasperated, because it was better than sounding vulnerable, “it helps with… sensory stuff. I used to use it when everything got loud in my head. It’s great to help you sleep. I think you need it.”

Peter was still looking at it, and it was obvious he’d zoned out again, so Tony poked him on the shoulder. “Blanket, Parker. For when you’re sleeping. To help with the sensory overload or whatever the fuck this is,” he waved a hand, “I don’t know, it looks similar to my own… my own thing, so I thought it might help.”

He shoved the thing into Peter’s arms and turned away, feeling mortified. God, the first person Tony had admitted any of that to, and it was a fucking fifteen year old boy.

Peter called him. He didn’t reply.

There was a thing and it was a Really Cool Thing and suddenly three days had gone by with Tony doing nothing but focus on the Really Cool Thing and that was fine by him, meant that there were no awkward conversations between him and Peter, so there was really noting to complain about.

“I didn’t even know you had those sort of problems,” Peter said suddenly at the table, and his eyes were brighter and he didn’t look like a zombie any more, so Tony guessed the weighted blanket had worked at least a little bit. “I just thought you were…”

Peter trailed off, and Tony didn’t say anything. He knew exactly what Peter was thinking- it was what everyone else did.

“Thank you. Thank you for… helping me. I see now, what you were- it was nice of you. And I know it’s probably a really private thing for you, so- yeah. Thanks.”

Tony looked up, then. Peter was wringing his hands and looking at the ground, but the words seemed sincere. There was no judgement there, no venom. Just… gratefulness.

He frowned. “Did it work?”

Peter nodded. “Weirdly, yes.”

Tony smiled, just for a moment, and then turned back around. “Good. Keep it. Don’t try anything else- if you do want to, talk to me first, alright? You promise, Peter?”

He had to make sure the kid wouldn’t go down the same roads as him. Tony would try literally every other form of help he could get his hands on before that happened. He’d breathalyse the kid every damn morning if he had to.He wasn’t going to go there.

Peter nodded a little. “Yeah. Yeah- promise.”

Tony paused, and then nodded. Promises meant a lot to Parker. It was enough for now. “Okay, glad we got that sorted. Now at least I can tell you to quit your fucking tapping in my lab- it ruins the rhythm of my tapping, and my tapping is more important here.”

“Why is your tapping-”

“My shop. My ADHD-fuelled workshop of design and creation. My rules.” Tony waved him off, turning back around to the boot of his suit. “Now scram- I’m trying to focus.”

“See, now I understand why that’s such a big deal for you-”

Tony chucked a pencil at him. Peter caught it, but he did end up wandering off in the end, so Tony counted it as a win.

He couldn’t help but smile a little into his circuitry. The kid would be alright. He had a mentor who was old hat at this shit, anyway. What could possibly go wrong?

Hm. On second thoughts- best not get into that.

#I love ADHD Tony with all my entire fucking being okay & it has been brought to my attention that Peter could have it Also and so. yes #peter & tony #peter parker #tony stark #itsallavengers writes #Anonymous

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penumbra-rp · 5 years

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Congratulations Aman, you have been accepted for the role of Alastor Moody!

This does mean that he has unreasonable standards for the world, sometimes. He can expect it to be…better than it is. He feels the presence of the younger order members a lot and considers it a personal failure that they’re involved. The ‘adults’ should be handling this on their own.

Admin Ash: Aman, it was all about the details when it came to your application. The fact that you didn’t shy away from Alastor’s disabilities ( the lost sight in one of his eyes and his utilizing a cane to get around after his leg amputation ), the fact that he’s so close with his little niece to allow her to interview him for her school project, the way that you carefully selected traits that showcased both the positive and negative points of his personality, even the pleasantly surprising music minor he took in school! All these things and more added something to our rough and gruff Moody that made him all the more human, all the more intriguing, and those special touches are why we can easily leave him in your capable hands. I, for one, am rooting for Order Dad Moody try to fix the world to his vision of ‘better.’

Please check out our checklist for joining Penumbra.

01. Out of Character

NAME: Aman

AGE: 24

YOUR BIRTHDAY: 9/11.. Why do you need this

PRONOUNS: She/her

TIMEZONE: PST

02. In Character

CHARACTER: Alastor Moody

CHARACTER’S PRONOUNS: he/him

FACECLAIM: Charlie Hunnam

CHARACTER’S BIRTHDAY: November 5th

PERSONALITY: Let’s go with 6 personality traits, and throw some negatives and positives into both of them.

Decisive

He’s not one to linger over decisions. He decides where he aligns very quickly and sticks with it unless something contrary smacks him upside the head. This includes but is not limited to how he feels about people, his alcohol of choice, and what fruit to toss in his bag for a backup snack later.

He’s a creature of habit. A lot of decisions he’s made are because they work (or because they’ve worked once).. Or even the other way around. He ate shrimp and got food poisoning once? Alright, forget shrimp, who needs it anyway.

He can usually fit things into neat boxes. We’ve got good, bad. Any shades of gray are tossed right into the bad. Better safe than sorry, after all.

Steadfast

Once he commits to something, he’s gonna do it. Doesn’t matter if it seems impossible, he’ll figure out a way. This can and definitely does lead him into some messy situations, especially because he’ll sidestep some rules to do it.

He’ll often butt heads with people who feel differently than him. It is very possible for him to argue for hours over something. He likes to think that eventually, enough reason will make someone change their mind. So yeah, he’s the old dude that gets into facebook arguments with the person who posted an anti-vaxx article. And then he’ll spend the next hour grumbling about it to everyone around him.

He’s not easily won over by the ups and downs of mass media. Whatever the hell Amazon did now is gonna have no sway on whether or not that HDMI cable is getting delivered to his place.

He can be a very strong pillar in times of doubt. He might not be the warmest, but he definitely is there to remind you you’re doing the right thing. Or call you out when you’re being a shit.

Extroverted

He gets energy from being around people. It helps him keep his head straight when he’s with company he enjoys. A lot of his friendships are built on mutual respect and bickering. His sense of humor has grown a little twisted over the years.

That being said, he picks and chooses who he trusts very carefully. People fit in very specific roles and tend to learn about him accordingly. It’s very possible that those he works with might not know about his sexuality or that he adopted a dog last year. He tries to keep talk of work out of his romantic relationships, which has definitely led to a weird encounter or two when they stumble across his guns.

He can be pretty candid in situations and knows how to deal with the consequences of his actions/words… or at least he thinks he does.

Adventurous

He can be a bit of a thrill seeker. He’s spent a lot of his younger years with various adventure sports and enjoys the outdoors. Mountain biking, hiking, ziplining, skydiving, paragliding, and outdoor climbing have been a thing.

He’s been in a shit mood about his injuries fucking up his ability to do some of what he’s used to. He has definitely had to reassess his limits, but… he definitely gets a rush out of pushing himself to his limits.

The rush can come inside a city, too. He isn’t the type to sit still and is always poking his nose into something.

Obsessive

He can be very single-minded and has a tendency to hyperfixate. Often times, his cases take the spotlight (at the moment, it’s about The Dungeon). It can be hard for him to pull away even when work is over. He’ll spend his free time doing research, recon, lining up clues. This leads to a lot of falling asleep at his desk and then waking up with a bad neck.

Sometimes he’ll sidestep his own care while doing it. His leg, for example, definitely needs some attention every day. He’ll eat rushed meals just so he can get done faster.

The obsessions can def go somewhere else. He’ll get a crockpot and spend 3 weeks trying out different recipes and make more servings than can fit in his tupperware.

He has a lot of miscellaneous knowledge of random things.

Idealistic

His niece dragged him out to watch Captain America: Civil War a couple years back when he was visiting (shut up). Since then, Captain America is his fav superhero (fuck off, he’s never gonna say this out loud). He likes a man who knows his good from his bad and sticks up for his ideals. Doesn’t matter what the government says, what the red tape is. You should know where you stand.

This does mean that he has unreasonable standards for the world, sometimes. He can expect it to be… Better than it is. He feels the presence of the younger order members a lot and considers it a personal failure that they’re involved. The ‘adults’ should be handling this on their own.

He tends to hold himself to a higher standard, often involving pushing himself beyond his limits. He struggled a lot with losing his leg, since he still wants to do everything he could before.

BRIEF BULLET POINT BIO:

Irene Moody likes to blame her gray hair on Alastor. Honestly? She might not be wrong. A healthy baby boy should not have found himself in as much trouble as her son did. But where there’s a will, there’s a way– he’s a Moody, after all. The young Alastor collected bruises, scabs, and scraped knees like most boys collected comic books. Hell, she’d even bought a stack of them in the hopes that he’d sit down. It’d worked for the month that it took him to read through them all, and then he was jumping off beds with the sheets tied off as a cape.

It’s a good thing his mother is a nurse because the boy found himself back in the hospital on a monthly basis. His father claims that they could have bought a yacht with how many bills piled up, but as a writer, he’s always been a man of hyperboles. Alastor never quite minded the hospital atmosphere when he was younger. He’d lay back on his bed with his eyes open to all the possibilities in the white walls.

Their cozy little apartment was never quiet, between the two kids squabbling over toys, the radio cranked up to full volume in the kitchen, and the TV buzzing in the living room. His father was possibly the only person in the family who could keep an inside voice for longer than an hour. Alastor likes to think that things have calmed down since then, but their yearly Christmas gatherings show otherwise.

With a sister 3 years his elder, Alastor’s the baby of the family but was never quite treated like it. In fact, he complains that he got all of the problems with being the youngest with none of the benefits. Marie would argue back that he never actually fetched anything she asked him to so he’s not allowed to complain. The pair would argue over everything, only ever aligning on the decision to get pizza for dinner. Leaving them alone always led to markers to the wall, ruined cushions, shredded bedsheets and, if their parents were unlucky, a food fight. Prank wars were not uncommon in the Moody household.

As a child, he picked up on concepts quickly, but would have a hard time keeping focus. His grades fluctuated as he danced from subject to subject. When he looks back, all he remembers are his red hot ears, ringing, and unable to process the long lectures from his father. Once they began, they never quite stopped. He began to dread the updating of the progress sheets that were fixed to the fridge, with more frowny stickers than smiling ones.

Alastor his report card once. He’d lied and said it’s delayed while forging his mother’s signature. For the month after, he held his breath around his parents, waiting for it to come around and smack him in the face. Miraculously enough, it never did. His sister likes to blackmail him with it even now.

At age ten, he discovered the Hardy Boys. Despite all his indecision, he latched onto the concept of becoming a detective and never looked back. The boy collected memorabilia and had about 3 different magnifying glasses. Grabbing his dad’s glasses from the other room became the mystery of the missing spectacles. Figuring out what to wear became the Closet Case. There was an unfortunate year where he insisted on wearing a detective hat at all times. He’s tried to consolidate and burn all the evidence, but a few pictures keep coming out of the woodwork… another mystery.

The kid never quite managed straight As, but he excelled where he applied himself. A little elbow grease and some late nights set him up for an admission at Hogwarts. Hit parents never quite got off his back about his performance, however, slipping away to college made it easy to unsavory hide the bits and pieces. He quickly picked a major in criminology and settled into it.

The music minor wasn’t planned. In truth, it was him foolishly following a crush into a entry level piano class. He fell in love that year. With piano, with music theory II, with the history of rock 101.

Before he knew it, his college years were over and he was thrust into a job in law enforcement. With his sights set on detective and an unwavering determination, he muscled his way into the role within a few years. They blur together quickly as he hops from case to case, head bent down, crease between his eyebrows and small frown on his face. His days and nights are spent wrapped up in his newest obsession.

Never one to turn down a good adrenaline rush, Alastor took to adventure sports quickly. At first, it was simply a few good hikes and some mountain biking, but outdoor rock climbing, hang gliding, and bungee jumping quickly became favorites. He’d poke and prod people into trying things out.

Alastor’s the type of person who’s cut out for being a detective. He’s the type who can’t sit still when he knows he can be doing something. It’s probably why he keeps going back. The first accident involved losing his eye. The second, breaking his nose. The third, his leg’s amputation. Plenty of scars and bruises litter the spaces in between. Each time, he was put on desk duty and each time, he found a way to remind his peers that he’s still up for the job. The loss of his leg’s still fresh but the invitation to join Operation Auror is one that he’s meant for.

Misc Headcanons/Thoughts

His colleagues are pretty smh because he keeps getting hurt and coming right back. There’s a betting pool somewhere about wtf Moody’s gonna end up getting himself into next.

He’s actually a bit of a klutz since losing his eye.

He adopted his dog, so he didn’t name her. But he really wants a dog named Jovi

His sister lives in America and his parents spend most of their time there

He has a really nice sound system set up in his place

He can play piano, guitar and is currently learning the flute

He has a bad habit of biting his nails

INTERVIEW:

i. How do you feel about your current occupation?

“Alright, kid,” Alastor starts gruffly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, looking down at his niece. A flicker of regret flashes across the ten year old’s face as she sits in front of him, worksheet in hand. He grins and gets going before she has a chance to pick someone else to interview. “Let’s get one thing straight. If I didn’t like this job, I wouldn’t be doing it. You’re gonna be hearing this damn debate your whole life.” He puts on a voice as he continues, pulling a face as he mocks the voices that he remembers looking up to as a child. “Do something you love so you’ll be happy. No, you don’t need happiness in work, just stability. Blah, blah, blah. It’s all bull. Do what works for you. You’re the only one who knows what you need… This job, though? With what I’ve got going on’d, it’d drive a guy crazy if he didn’t live for it. ”

ii. What song would you say describes yourself?

“Ah…” He trails off, scratching his beard as he thinks over it. “Ya ever heard of Akimbo? It’s by Stradeus. This beat that gets me every damn time, you can feel it in your bones. Actually, hey Google.” Alastor leans back, squinting a little to see if it lights up in response. “Play Akimbo.” He nods and sits up a little more as the music fills the room. “You can just feel the tension build in this song. It just keeps going, and going, like when you know you’re onto something.” He holds up a hand, listening, forcing his niece to sit through the rest. “And right there in the middle, it backs off, for maybe just a second to breathe. Everything’s just still, pulling itself back together, then we’re going hard again.” His fingers strum against his thigh along with the music as he squints down at his niece’s page. “What’s next.”

iii. Does reputation matter to you?

“I mean I’ve done plenty and people better damn well respect that. But you’re not gonna find me tripping over my feet trying to kiss ass for approval, if that’s what you’re asking.” He’s been told it might make things easier, sometimes, especially with all the damn red tape in the department. Alastor, mind your own business. Don’t be so rude. Be careful about how you approach them. But then, maybe in the end it just comes down to the question of how well you’re willing to compromise yourself just to take the easy way out.

iv. What is your relationship with your parents like?

Alastor doesn’t answer this question immediately. Like any relationship, it’s changed over the years, and peeling back the layers is a process that could take a couple hours in it of itself. His parents have always pushed him to be his best, whether that be in grades or etiquette. He’s taken some of the lessons, shunted others, but there’s no denying that he wouldn’t be the man he is today if not for them. But none of that is a conversation for their grandkid. “Not bad. They in your hair, kid? Get overbearing sometimes, don’t they?” he asks, deflecting any further questions.

v. What languages can you speak?

“I had to learn French in high school, but that’s a bit rusty. Damn French people get annoyed when we use English and then get snarky when we use broken French. Can’t win unless you figure out how to dislodge the sticks from their asses. Anyway, I picked up some German a couple years back when I was working on a case. Mmm, that’s about it.” He pauses, then frowns, as he thinks about the ex who taught him some Arabic, but that was only enough to figure out when her parents were talking about him.

vi. If your home was on fire and you could only save one item, what would you choose?

“We’re going to use the term 'item’ loosely and say Luna.” He gives a small nod towards the dog asleep on the rug by the… fireplace. He frowns. “Oi, that wasn’t a hint, was it? Go put out the fire and turn on the heater.” He responds to her hesitation by picking up his cane and knocking her legs gently. He has to smother a smile as she grumbles and gets up. “Go. I’ll wait.”

vii. Which Hogwarts University faculty did you study at? The Gryffindor School of Applied Science, the Ravenclaw School of Humanities, the Slytherin School of Social Science, or the Hufflepuff School of Art?

“Slytherin, criminology. Want to know the secret, though?” He leans in a little, smiling playfully, and doesn’t wait for an affirmation before going on. “There’s a bit of puff in there. Did a minor in music. See, now get what I mean about the what you love, what makes money debate? I’ve heard everyone talk shit about the other twenty times over.”

vix. What is your social media username?

“AlastorMoody. Luckily I’ve got a unique name, so it wasn’t taken. Not gonna lie, if I had to come up with some nonsense, I wouldn’t have made one.” He might enjoy the avenue for arguing with people online, but any butchering of his name leaves him cringing. His unique name has opened up to more ridiculous puns than he knows how to respond to. Alastor shakes off the thought and continues. “Let me know if you take a look, there are definitely a few articles I’ve linked to that I think you should read.”

#accepted

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