bigassmoody-blog

[bigassmoody-blog]

dci-daisy‌:

The whole office was one collective headache for days. Daisy was rushed off her feet liaising between IT and detectives and forensics. She eyed every single person she came across with a secretly skeptical eye, wondering if each one of them might be the person who was stabbing her - and the team - in the back.

She’d barely had time for lunch, but she needed some time with her thoughts and some ‘fresh air’ before her headache turned into a full on migraine and her slightly grumpy attitude turned into a full-on warpath. She had been on the roof for about twenty minutes, had destroyed a chicken and salad wrap and was on her second cigarette by the time the door opened. She briefly glanced over her shoulder, but she didn’t really have to in order to know who it was.

“Don’t tell me the whole office has already gone to pot in the time I’ve been gone,” she sighed, rubbing her temple. “Any leads?” she asked. “Is the autopsy report back yet?” Daisy was usually good at separating work from her personal life, mostly because she didn’t have that much of a personal life, but knowing this poor teenager, her friend’s cousin, was dead and the murderer was still out there was more than she could handle. They needed to find the person responsible, and they had to do it quickly. 

@bigassmoody

“Not yet, told Dewen you were getting something from the other precinct. I give Dewen another...” He makes a show of checking his watch, ”Fifteen minutes before he calls you to check. Pacing the front door right now, holdin’ a pile of paperwork taller than his head,” he replies with a small quirk of his lips, half because if he doens’t find amusement among the everyday of this investigation, he’ll end up jumping off the side of this building.

“How many of those you work through already?” The cigarette smoke is all he can smell and it’s funny by now, how he’s just associated it with stress and cracks in Daisy’s calm demeanor. “You’re lucky they’re all dumbasses down there, otherwise they’d be able to follow your rank all the way up here.”  

He joins her at the edge of the roof, peering over at all the cars that have barely left the office for the last few days (John’s Camry is crooked, because of course it is). “I haven’t got word on it yet, Emma’s ready to kill me anytime I go near the lab.” He offers up a little shrug before finding a small rock to nudge over the edge with his foot, he strains to hear if it makes a noise when it reaches the bottom, but it clanks into some bushes. “The kid’s dead, it just means we can focus on one thing now instead of trying to find him and the kidnapper-- killer.”

[bigassmoody-blog]

ofandromedas‌:

Andromeda retracts her hand, letting it fall to her side. She doesn’t mind the station impounding her cell phone if it means furthering the investigation for her missing cousin, though a part of her is unsettled by the thought of a fleet of detectives handling something so personal. It doesn’t matter that she has nothing to hide. She pushes her discomfort aside. “Right, of course. Take whatever you need.” Her gaze drifts from him to a nearby oak tree, watching a bird flit through the branches as she reflects. “Hm…no, I don’t think so. If you mean before this whole mess happened. I don’t talk much to my parents. Bella and I don’t get along much lately, but I don’t know if that’s exactly unusual. And Narcissa’s generally harmless.” She turns her attention back to him, raising her eyebrows. “In regards to during this mess, nobody’s talked much at all about Regulus being missing amongst themselves aside from when the press is involved but again, that’s pretty typical Black behavior. Why? Do you think they have something to do with Reg? Or this text?”

He doesn’t have an evidence bag on hand, but slips the phone into his pocket for now, making a note to grab one later... and to talk to Daisy about it. If he were in any other headspace he would’ve made a joke about how she won’t miss the phone since she never texts back anyway, but it’s not the time or the place and his mind is on a hundred other things at the moment. With this one in hand, it means they can follow a new lead without dealing with the details of his own text-- he doens’t need Daisy breathing down his neck or trying to pull him out of the Dungeon investigation. “Good to know. And I can’t tell you, honestly. I think it’s something important though, thank you for bringing this to me.”

[bigassmoody-blog]

bellatrixism‌:

One brow pulls higher despite herself – when Alastor Moody had ghosted on her all those years ago, she thought it had been because of the usual rumors about her family; She’d never really understood why he’d chosen to draw the line between them when he did. It wasn’t as though their meet-ups had ever meant anything. Those late nights, occasional early mornings and the rare lunch sessions were only ever a coping mechanism. A stress reliever for when Bellatrix was too riled up and with no other outlet. 

His absence hadn’t upset her, but something about the way he suddenly ended their…whatever it was – fight buddies? kickboxing colleagues? alumni relations? – had bothered her. If he was really disturbed by the rumors and alleged crime, then he shouldn’t have engaged with her in the first place. To leave like that was rude. “Could have been less if you’d wanted,” came the retort, more bitter than Bellatrix had wanted to be. But that was the way she was, any slight was compounded even when she didn’t want to give others the satisfaction of getting to her. 

“But probably for the best – it was getting boring anyway.” This isn’t entirely true. It wasn’t boring then, but it would be now. Mats and gloves couldn’t compare to concrete pavement and silencers. Impatience was beginning to rear its all too familiar head again. Bellatrix crossed her arms, and straightened to her fullest height. She was the tallest of her sisters but still a few inches shorter than Moody. “We don’t have to play ‘catch-up’ Detective. If you have questions, ask. Otherwise, I have an aunt to console.”

It’s been years since they’ve sparred together but it’s still easy to feel nostalgic over those nights they’d spent pummeling the shit out of each other, the stupid bickering and banter as they tended their bruises and established the next time and place (it was always the same time and the same place). They were simpler times, back when he was only just starting to hear rumors of the Blacks, when he still didn’t know where she stood or whether he bought into the crap. Hell, he had still had a leg back then, which’d been what really had him dropping off their contact, not an actual decision on his part. Funny, lost a leg, got a sense of morals. “Something came up,” he explains, though he leaves it at that, some vindictive part of him wanting to leave her with nothing.

 “Then we’ll do questions.” And his voice turns formal, firm, as he turns away from the Bellatrix that he’d known years ago and faces Ms. Black. “Have a seat, I want to ask you about your relationship with Regulus and if you’ve noticed anything that the police should be aware of.”  It turns his stomach a little now, realizing that he’d been sharing laughs with someone who’s using her company. “That includes if you’ve seen any individuals of note keeping him company, any unsavory types around him or if you think he’d be involved in anything dangerous.”

[bigassmoody-blog]

vanityemmas‌:

Moody’s presence is, in a word, distracting. Annoying. Frustrating. A pain in her ass (though, that was five words). There’s no sense in trying to get work done when he’s around, because he only seems to court trouble and proudly tote it around with him wherever he goes, including into Emma’s lab. Still, she wants to finish this damn fiber analysis and go home, so she continues to stare into the microscope, ignoring him. She wasn’t scared of anything, especially Alastor Moody. She tries to keep scribbling notes and focusing on the tiny pieces of evidence in the lenses she’d been staring into for the better part of an hour. Observed at 100x. Thickness A = 20µm. Thickness B =  —, and at that point, Emma’s pen had scribbled a nice, long line across to the edge of her page as the paper airplane grazes the back of her head, scraping ever so lightly across the skin of her neck and disturbing a few of the stray hairs that were too small or simply missed the bun the rest of her hairs were pulled up in. Hastily scribbling her initials and date above the line she’d drawn to indicate that yes, this was indeed her fuck-up (though, was it really?), Emma then slammed her pen against the desk and angrily turned to her coworker just as the next plane fell to her desk, disrupting the envelope containing the fibers.

“What kind of fucking backup would I need?!” Emma exclaimed, brows scrunching. “You fucked up these fibers already!” And on a case she didn’t need to destroy evidence, on, she might add. “I don’t need your fucking company.” She wants to finish this damn fiber analysis and go home, but maybe she’s not going home alone, because he courts a bit more than chaos and Emma could sure use a bit of an upper hand, right now. So, seeing the challenging look already forming, she was going to snap back before he even had the chance to say anything. “Bite me, Moody. Fuck off.” Emma turned back to the microscope, knowing there was no chance she was getting anything done, but if she could at least write down her last bit of information, she might have a chance at saving the little bit of sanity she had left. Then and only then could Moody have her attention, though it would be on her terms, which she was sure he was used to by now.

Alastor winces as the plane collides with a few of her tables. He feels bad, he honestly does, but also what’s done is done and he can’t exactly un-fuck up these things. So Emma’s anger is completely valid-- he’s pretty sure he’d be pissed if he were in her place. But he’s not. And he has to resist the smile tugging at his lips as he meets her eyes. “There’re the backup, pay attention. Have you never called for air support before?” ( It’s kind of beautiful, actually, watching her go from a quiet, peaceful  concentration, to an angry snap that would have  him jumping if he didn’t know it was coming. Not that he’d admit to the beauty, anything more than the usual pigtail pulling would probably freak himself out just as much as it’d leave Emma confused). “Don’t you have an imagination?” His voice stays light, goading.

[bigassmoody-blog]

ofandromedas‌:

Andromeda watches his gears turn, trying to gauge how seriously he’s taking this. In a backwards way, it’s almost fascinating to see Alastor in his element. She wonders what he’s thinking, but doubts he’ll tell her; part of his job description, she supposes, is keeping his cards close to his chest. “Let’s see - my family. My sisters, my parents, my aunt and uncle, Regulus. Sirius’ friends, James and Remus and Peter. They’d all know the details about the disownment, at least more than the general public would. And, of course, anyone else Sirius might have confided in though I don’t think he’d talk about it beyond the three boys. I don’t talk much about my personal feelings on the matter, either, but the same category could probably make assumptions about how I’d fit into it.” It occurs to her that this conversation is probably the most personal information she’d ever shared with him. “No, I haven’t. Neither of them have said anything, but I don’t think they’d tell me or the investigation if they’d gotten something like this.” Once he’s finished taking pictures she extends her hand to take her phone back, palm brushing against his in the exchange. “What are you thinking?”

“That’s a lot of people,” he replies quietly as he jots them all down, though he’s trying to figure out how many of them would know about his little encounters with the Dunegon. It’s not hard to agree that Regulus is involved, though he’s beginning to think that there could be something going on with one of the other Black sisters or the parents. Could they fake the distraught statements that he’d read earlier this week? It’s... possible. ”Have you noticed any unusual behavior in your family lately? I know this is personal, but I need you to be open with me because this is the only way I can help.“ Alastor gives a small frown as he pockets his own phone and turns hers over in his free hand. “I have to bring your phone in to see if we can trace this call.”

[bigassmoody-blog]

mzabini‌:

“You’re always working,” Maya pouts, hands clasping behind her back as she sways back and forth. She looks down at the dirt covered ground, deliberately feigned disappointment painting along her features as she draws a thin line with the toe of her boot. “I’m quite aware that a boy’s life is on the line, Alastor,” she snippily replies, chin lifted haughtily, “I wouldn’t be here if not.” She’ll consider distractions – she’ll consider them for a moment, only to decide that she still intends on being one. Listening to him but not truly, letting his words wash over her, roll off her back. He should know better, she thinks. Deterrents didn’t usually work on a girl keen to get everything she wanted – he’d have to try harder than that.  

Rolling her eyes, Maya allow him to finish his poor attempt at passing her off and sending her away. If anything, it made her dig her heels into the dirt harder. “Maybe,” she muses softly, sweetly, taking a step closer, and then another, “I wanted you to be my buddy. You don’t have to hold my hand, I know you’re…scared. And that’s okay.” Finally, she meets his gaze, looking up at him through her lashes, a hint of a smile toying gently along her lips. He sees through her antics, knowing she hadn’t found a single thing considering she only arrived to the search not too long ago – and she supposes that’s fine, she hadn’t been trying her hardest anyways. “Wait–” she stomps a foot petulantly, frowning once more, “I want to go too.” 

“And you’re still not taking it seriously, so I don’t see why I should humor you.” No matter how many times they’ve interacted, it’s always jarring to look at her-- to see her beauty and elegance and for his gaze to wander down the curve of her ass or her legs... And then she opens her mouth and he’s mentally taking it all back. He’s wondering if everyone turns off their brains as she wraps them around her fingers or if she’s just a little extra bad with him. Honestly, it’s probably a mix of both.

“I thought you had something over there to go look at?” he asks as she insists on coming with him. He nods over to the area she’d motioned before, only remembering it because he decided to head in exactly the opposite direction. “Maya, go. And if you don’t want to be here contributing, then go home. I don’t know what else to tell you”

[bigassmoody-blog]

ofandromedas‌:

It’s not often that Andromeda catches Alastor looking surprised. “No,” she answers evenly. “I’ve looked through my contacts, Googled it even, and I can’t say for sure who it’s from.” The text had plagued her more than it probably should have, seemingly too relevant to Andromeda’s current ongoing life crisis that she’s kept meticulously private. She sucks in a breath, folding her arms across her chest and shaking her head. “I think it’s him, yeah,” she confirms. A bold statement, maybe, but it couldn’t be a coincidence. “Mostly instinct, I guess. But you know my other cousin - Sirius, Regulus’ brother - he’s been cut off from the rest of the family because he, ah….didn’t fall in line. I’ve been less involved with them in recent years. It seems like a comment on that, right? I mean, there’s more to it than that, but the gist is that few people know the details about how he left and why, and it feels like only one of those people would be able to comment on it. Would know that it’d carry weight with me, specifically. Regulus fits into that category, and now he’s missing.” She shakes her head again. “No. I wasn’t going to show it to anyone until Reg fell off the face of the Earth.”

He knows he’s tried the same thing, and, goddamn, that number’s starting to look familiar. “So it’s private information, whatever you have here. Following this thread as a possibility, do you happen to know who else may have this information on hand? You mention there are others in the category.” It’s funny, though, an hour ago, he would’ve bet his other leg that Regulus Black is wrapped up with whoever sent the text, but it sounds wild and like jumping to conclusions when it comes out of Andy’s mouth. He’s not quite sure how he feels about the message that he received, then. Could Regulus have possibly known about whatever’s been going on at the dungeon and simultaneously be waving Andy out of.... whatever? “Alright, I’m going to note this down for now,” he says as he pulls out his phone and takes a quick picture of her screen, and then, whileit’s out, takes a peek at his -- matching numbers, his a minute before hers. “Have you talked to your sisters about this or is it only you that’s got one of these messages?”

[bigassmoody-blog]

In truth, he wasn’t supposed to be here this morning  and he’s likely to get a sour look from Daisy if she sees him, but the park has been roped off and ready to go for his little search party for hours. And he has too many questions to sit still and wait. Alastor has spent the morning on his feet, squeezing between the half dozen other cops that packed into the large house for the investigation. He’s eager for answers, for new information and to see this whole mess unravel to show him what’s really underneath, which had the others redirecting the especially crabby interviews this way. 

In truth, he should have been prepared for this. But Bellatrix’s voice catches him by surprise and he’d almost laugh if this weren’t the time and place.  “Detective Inspector Alastor Moody,” he introduces himself, flashing his badge in a motion that he’d once daydreamed about years ago. “Bellatrix Black? It’s been a while.”

[ 13.06.19 \ 10:00 | 12 GRIMMAULD PLACE | @bigassmoody ]

Bellatrix hadn’t slept. She was very sure that it was simply due to her insomnia, but timing was rather convenient. It made it much, much easier to sell the lie of concern. When the news had broken that Regulus had disappeared, Bella had been alone in her office, where no one could hear her scoff. He was, what – 20? 19? Everyone went through a phase of youthful rebellion (and some never outgrew it either, hissed a voice that sounded suspiciously like her dear mother), so she truly could not comprehend why everyone was so worked up. This wasn’t even original. Sirius had ran away first, after all.

Nonetheless, Bellatrix hadn’t protested when Druella had volunteered her for the search party. Her team was to search her cousins’ neighborhood in the evening, but her mother had made several pointed remarks over dinner about family loyalty and reputation and appearances…And so the morning found her driving to her aunt’s home to offer her support, or condolences, or whatever. She’d slammed the car door shut perhaps harsher than necessary, stomped harder than strictly needed with each step she took towards 12 Grimmauld Place. By the time she reached the gate, Bellad had thoroughly worked herself into an irritated frenzy, only to be stopped by an officer flashing his badge and asking her name.

“Bellatrix Black,” she’d responded coldly, though her chin tilted up instinctually. Pride had always kept the Black girls’ spines straight. Or at least Bella’s and Cissa’s, anyway. The officer nodded and directed her towards the man in charge. His silhouette was familiar. Bloodless lips curled in disgust when recognition dawned; Alastor Moody always had a way catching people off-guard. He’s talking to another copper when she interrupts, voice an angry crackle.

“I’m told you have questions.”

[bigassmoody-blog]

mzabini‌:

— 13th of june. hampstead heath park.

This search party has become more of a photo op than anything else – and there’s a part of Maya that’s saddened by the state of things, considering a boy’s life is on the line. She and Regulus were close by no means, merely passing one another with shared tiny grins as he roamed the halls of the House of Black while on holiday from school. Sometimes, when she looked, the empire almost seemed to big for his shoulders, threatening to swallow him whole. But his disappearance caused a stir within the Black family, and as Cissa’s closest friend, whatever concerned the blonde was likely to concern her as well – as easy as that. 

As she looked about the grass at the other socialites who’ve joined the search, she wiggles her fingers at a few acquaintances of the Blacks she’d come to see at the last polo match. Maya saw a little too much of herself in these people. She saw men and women with no intention of finding a lost boy, but furthering their own agendas – whether it was being seen doing volunteer work to shed positive light on relations with authorities or to boost their follow count on FlooNet with a ‘FindingRegulus’ hashtag. But her? Her own agenda had nothing to do with the boy and everything to do with the detective inspector leading their group through the park. It’s been a very long time since her feminine wiles have fallen flat, and a first time occurrence that they’ve worked in reverse – but time and time again, Alastor Moody proves himself a rarity. Or at least, he attempts to project an immunity to her while slipping himself from her grasp. It leaves her with a rather satisfied smirk every time she finds herself at the precinct, perched on his desk as he recoils. He’s afraid, she thinks. Big bad Moody is scared of her. And even if he might not want her, there is immense pride to be taken in being able to burrow beneath his skin, and ruffle his feathers.

It’s why she gives him time as he ducks and dodges her – using other team members as distractions, trees and bushes for cover. But as any unsuspecting predator would, Maya waits. She waits for him to be alone, she comes up on his weaker side, appears in his ( literal ) blindspot. And that, brings her success. His voice sounds like gravel, and once, it had sent a shiver down her spine. “Alastor,” she coos, her bottom lip pushing out into a pout, “You’ve been avoiding me.” She’s exceedingly direct in her accusation, but makes way for another frown at his choice of words. “Business as usual, hm?” Her head tilts to the side as she considers him openly, “I think I found something, over there – but I’m….scared. I don’t wanna go by myself…” 

“You might be a volunteer, but I’m still working right now,” he replies, just as direct with his words and she was with hers, not that it’s ever put her off before. “And if you need to be reminded, there is a boy’s life on the line, here. So consider any distractions before you bring ‘em to me, alright?” He waves a hand in the general direction of the park that surrounds them. “Or before finding things around here.” Not that he thinks she’ll find anything, his one eye is more likely to catch a clue than all of these combined. 

“You can always use the buddy system. Looks like you’ve got quite a few friends around here, I’m sure someone can hold your hand.” There are plenty of socialites out and about, looking every bit as unprepared for a walk in the park as Maya does at the moment and he has no qualms about grouping her right up with them, it’s easy enough to separate into an us or them, for some reason it feels like the groups are just himself and everyone else. “You let me know when you actually find something, alright?” He doesn’t want to leave too much room for her to reply, and turns to go almost immediately.

[bigassmoody-blog]

ofandromedas‌:

The difference in greeting doesn’t escape her. This was uncharted territory for Andromeda - typically, when she was with Alastor they were either in the hospital (her turf) or getting coffee (neutral ground). All situations that she could grab ahold of to some degree. She was the one who typically withheld information professionally, not Alastor. The switch unsettles her in a way she can’t quite explain

She trails after him, dipping her head so she could slide beneath the bright yellow tape. As Alastor could have anticipated, she doesn’t like his disclaimer; she understands it, can respect it considering how seriously she takes her own job, but  she doesn’t have to like it. “Understood,” she agrees with a nod. “I’d love if you didn’t find it necessary, but I get it. I don’t do press, and family…well, the only person I’d want to tell is Sirius, but I won’t.” Unless Moody is about to look her in the eye and tell her they found a body - that would be difficult to keep to herself. The thought leaves a shiver running down her spine. “I have something to show you, first - is that okay?” Andromeda doesn’t wait for an answer, not wanting to lose her nerve. Instead, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, unlocks it with a complicated passcode, and scrolls to find her anonymous message before handing the phone to him. “Look at the date. It can’t be a coincidence, right?” 

Alastor grimaces at the mention of Sirius, of the idea of involving him in... whatever the hell is happening right now. He’d spent the far too much time on the phone after the news broke, cell to his ear, his voice raising probably more than it should be, talking in circles with Albus. Every insistence that Sirius and his friends should be kept as far away from this as possible, that they don’t know hwo to separate action and emotions, that they don’t need any more drama about this had been met with a few tuts and cryptic responses, as per Albus’ usual fare. Hell, he’s not happy that there are people like Andromeda out here, traumatizing themselves over lost family. “Let’s keep it between us,” he nods jerkily as she agrees with his words. 

He’d expected to lead this conversation, to fill her in on a few things, let her search and go home feeling like she did something. He wasn’t expecting her to actually contribute. So it catches him by surprise when he frowns down at the phone that’s suddenly in his hand, showing a vague message under a date exactly three days ago.  get out like sirius did  “Do you recognize the number?” he asks the question immediately, his mind already snapping to the one in his phone, though he can’t recall it perfectly. He doesn’t risk pulling it out in front of her and revealing his own, even with the itch to check the time stamp. “You think it’s him? Why, what would this mean?” The questions come one after another, sharp and pointed. “Have you shown this to anyone yet?”

[bigassmoody-blog]

It’s one hectic day into what looks like is going to be a long investigation and it’s late when the others start packing their files in their bags and grabbing their coats, each of them slowly filtering out. Once in a while, someone would nod his way and tell him to go home too, and he’d reply with a grunt and a dismissive wave of his hand. Another chimed in that if they leave him alone here too long, he’s gonna end up somehow cutting a finger off. He replies by showing them the only finger that matters. There’s more work to do than hours in the day, more work today and the pileup of the days before. He’s finally getting around to some up some older paperwork, sorting through some older files, but it feels like it’s taking twice as long. The missing heir case, the text from the day before, they swim back into his head every half hour. At least. Eventually, he does get out of that desk chair, if only to stretch his legs, give Minerva a call that he’ll be home late and ask her to let Luna out. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a light on in the lab. It was supposed to be just a stretch of his legs, but... maybe it could be a little more interesting. There’s no reason he can’t have any fun while he’s up. Alastor has three paper airplanes ready to go (it’s only after he’s folded them that he realizes he should write a note, but too late for that) as he approaches Emma’s lab, gets called out. “Nothing, Vanity. Just checking on you. I know it get scary for you in here all alone,” he replies innocently as he aims an airplane at the head that’s still wrapped up in the microscope. It misses. He readies the second one, which brushes the back of her head. The third follows shortly after, though it soars right onto her desk instead. Goddamn planes weren’t reliable. “Thought I’d keep you company. Or at least send in some backup.”

WHEN: June 11th, 20:21 WHERE: Operation Auror HQ WHO: @bigassmoody

Late nights at work often required coffee or tea to get through – only, Emma wasn’t allowed such luxuries in the lab. Food or drink weren’t permitted in an area where they could easily contaminate evidence or be contaminated themselves by whatever gross items came into Emma’s possession, and while the opportunity to spill coffee all over a stained t-shirt was tempting in the quest to destroy certain pieces of evidence, it was much too careless for someone like Emma, who obviously knew much better than that. Instead, she allowed her frustration to fuel her, and it grew by the minute with the increasing headache the microscope was giving her. Of-fucking-course they didn’t have the budget to get her the one that plugs into a computer, instead.

At least looking at fibers wasn’t as boring as it sounded. While she still would rather be home than staring at the little red strings, the way the colors danced under polarized light was a break from the boring, and she became entranced for a brief moment before blinking away the harsh light to scribble some notes about how a few of the fibers weren’t changing color the same way as the others, suggesting they were of different composition. Her thought process was interrupted by a presence in the doorway, however, causing Emma to sigh. “What do you want, Moody,” she called, not even having to look up from her sample to know it was him. His footsteps gave him away, as did most people on the team – with her head so often down in her work, Emma had learned to tell people apart by their gait. Plus, Moody wasn’t exactly a subtle person, and she knew he wanted her to acknowledge his presence. It’s what came after she did that she would likely dread.

[bigassmoody-blog]

CHARLIE HUNNAM as Henri ‘Papillon’ Charrière

in ‘Papillon’ (2018). | Dir. Michael Noer

[bigassmoody-blog]

The rest of the day stretches out before Alastor as he tilts his head back and squints up at the sky.  It’s only eleven and he’s pretty sure his nearly empty thermos of coffee is the only thing keeping him going right now, which is a problem, but it’s a problem for future him. Well, and future anyone else around him. He rubs the back of his neck as he pulls out his phone and checks Andy’s text for about the third time in the last ten minutes to verify the time they agreed on ( and his gaze lingers on the unknown number from earlier this week and he frowns contemplatively and quickly shoots it another text, which is unable to deliver. it’s related to the kid, he’s sure of it. The timing’s too close, it’s too placed for it to be anything else. But God, is it from him, about him, or from whatever the hell happened to him? It feels like the worst kind of threat and only ups his drive to figure out whatever the hell is going on,. He’s wondering if this kid’s even still alive. Hhe swallows the bitter taste in his mouth, ). 

He’s about to text Andy, exactly at 11, with a note about her being late, when he hears her voice. Alastor straightens slowly, picking his elbows off his thighs and squinting up at her-- hah, up at her. “Morning. It’s quiet, we roped off the area.” He pushes himself to stand and greets her with a nod, restraining himself from the half hug that they usually shared when they met outside of her exam room. “There’s a secluded area off this way..” He gestures with his head and starts to lead her, pausing to lift up the tape so she can duck under, then follows himself. “Alright, whatever we talk about stays befween us for now. I don’t want anything leaking to the press Or to your family. I’m going to let you know right off the bat that I will withold information if I find it necessary.”

— 13th of june. 11:00 AM. hampstead heath park. @bigassmoody

In the time post-news, Andromeda’s emotions became internally unpredictable. On one hand, she felt incredibly guilty that she had let her relationship with her youngest cousin crumble to dust. Then there was the fear, the knowledge that the House of Black and all that came with it could mean that Regulus was in danger. More than anything else, Andromeda was frustrated with the reactions of those surrounding her - her mother’s tears only fell in the company of the press, her sisters’ stoic complacency wasn’t nearly urgent enough, and the general public was more wrapped up in the scandal of it all than anything else. She’d been forced to undergo a social media detox lest another ‘#thoughtsandprayers’ send her over the deep end. 

However, Andromeda coped best when she felt useful, and she’d been one of the first to volunteer herself to assist in searching Regulus’ last known locations. She’d reached out to Alastor asking for details regarding the investigation, knowing very well that he couldn’t share them over phone or text but still hoping he’d have something to offer. Hearing that they’d be on the same search party was a bit of a relief - she wondered if that was a purposeful decision or a random coincidence, but regardless had jumped on the opportunity to meet with him at the park sooner. Regulus’ final text now burdened her with implications; would it be important to the investigation? Andromeda didn’t know. But her initial hesitancy to share the content had all but disappeared, now replaced with a determination to contribute as much as she could in hopes her youngest cousin was alive and well. 

When Andromeda’s Uber dropped her off she recognized the Alastor already there, scrolling through his phone and sitting on a bench next to the parking lot. She knew too much, and had already considered how much walking traipsing through the park would require; hopefully he’d brought a pocket of painkillers just in case. She greeted him with a wave, waiting for the car to pull away before she walked over to where he was sitting. He looked tired - then again, wasn’t that just his resting state? “Hi,” she greeted him, though now Andromeda’s gaze was sweeping across the tape marking off the park. “Should we talk here, or…?”

[bigassmoody-blog]

— 13th of june. hampstead heath park. @mzabini​ (x)

Missing persons cases were enough of a headache, managing the watchful fathers, sidestepping those mothers that seemed to cry anytime you asked them a question, navigating through every single damn social hurdle in the book -- which required more tact than Alastor had in his body (in his defense, he’s definitely missing a few body parts).  Throw in the public scandal of it being an heir of the Sacred 28, and the eyes on them just multiply. Regulus Black. His phone’s been ringing almost nonstop from a few nosy friends poking their heads into places they don’t belong and he almost turns it off every time (he almost unfriends them everytime, as well, to be honest), but hesitates on closing off his phone, just in case there’s another text from the anonymous messager. Missing persons are bad enough, now throw in the fucking civilian volunteers -- whose idea was this anyway-- and he’s about to lose his shit. He’s already caught a woman stopping to pick flowers (we all want to stop and smell the flowers, Beth. We don’t do it at crime scene investigations). Half of the volunteers seem to be socialites stepping in for the sake of looking like they’re helping, randomly waving their hands and pointing out various piles of leaves as suspicious whenever they interact with him, and ducking under trees to hide in the shade whenever they think he’s not looking. The other half seem like they just scrambled in to meet the socialites and spend a few hours updating their intsagram with pictures. 

And then there’s ... Maya. If he’d seen her name on the list earlier, he’d have demanded Daisy to change it, it was worth whatever awkward conversation that would follow but he didn’t see her until it’s too late. Avoiding her hasn’t been easy when he’s leading the team, but he’s been doing his best in making sure he’s not alone with her, always pulling other people in and instructing people or two to keep her occupied, or, once, pretending to take a phone call right as she bounds over. It probably helps that she’s one of the socialites that’s being fawned over. Overall, not a bad plan, and he probably could’ve gotten away with it being the whole day if not for the fact that she appeared on his damn left side. Fucking peripheral vision. He covers up his surprise with a scowl, followed out by a grunted out question. “Maya. Do you have something for me?” 

[bigassmoody-blog]

Alastor & His Body

Alastor was an active child. His parents put him into plenty of sports and... that was the beginning of the end. 

The Missing Pieces

With a missing eye and a prosthetic leg, body isn’t what it once was. He wants it to be, though.  Alastor is idealistic. He feels an overwhelming need to surge past his limits because there’s a way things should be, and, goddamn, he’s going to get there. It’s a double edged sword. The same drive that got him walking, running, and playing sports again is also the one that tells him to go just a little harder.

What’s the Damage?

He’s always in a state of push and pull with his body. He’ll keep going and going until something breaks, and it almost always does. The guy’s broken more bones than he can name and collects scars like they’re trophies. Losing his eye didn’t help either. With the depth perception and his peripheral vision all kinds of fucked up, he’s more accident prone than he’d like to admit.

Works of Art

He is a fan of ink. He has a full sleeve done (right arm) that’s all mostly floral. The top and bottom are the same design and they cut off in the middle, where he has some other nature themed accent pieces. His thigh has a cute record player with a sunflower speaker. There’s a few music notes on his chest. He’s got a set of sun and moon tattoos on his left and right arms. He had an elaborate woodsy scene on his left leg but it got amputated off and he rioted. His left arm is less deliberately aesthetic and he’s just got a few pieces he likes. 

TL;DR

His ass isn’t as great as it used to be, before he lost his leg. One day, though, he’ll truly be big ass moody. 

[bigassmoody-blog]

Charlie Hunnam on the Late Late Show with James Corden

[bigassmoody-blog]

CHARLIE HUNNAM as William ‘Ironhead’ Miller

in ‘Triple Frontier’ (2019) | Dir. J.C. Chandor.