fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme | Prompt Post #2

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Prompt Post #2

ROUND 2

Seeing as we've reached 4,000 comments in Round 1, it's time to make a new one. Same (lack of) rules apply. Gentle reminder to everyone to refrain from posting extremely long prompts, though. While no word limit will be imposed, take note that it is very unlikely for someone to fulfill your prompt if your prompt alone is already several paragraphs long and containing a number of specifications.

ANNOUNCEMENTS:
-(01/14/2016) We now have a TRADING POST where you can exchange fills with people.
-The prompt freeze is over! You may resume posting prompts. The next freeze is scheduled on February 8, 12:00 AM (PST) or if this round reaches 4,000 comments; whichever comes first.
-Due to popular demand, we now have our first couple of rules!
RULE #1: No prompt must exceed 250 words. Any prompt that exceeds that WILL be screened.
RULE #2: Please state RPF in the subject line if your prompt involves real people.
RULE #3: No kinkshaming.

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If you have free time to do one or the other, go ahead and e-mail us at fantasticbeastskink@gmail.com.
Thank you to those who have already volunteered, and have a nice day.

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Hope you like it OP
Chapter 1: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9250007

So glad you like this OP! And I'm relieved the letters worked - I wanted to get into the main story so I didn't want to spend too long on the background, but I wanted it covered. I will eventually reach get to your prompt, but I'm going to cover the New York incident first, thank you for your patience!

(Thank you so much for your comments! I've put the fic up on AO3 as well: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9239051/chapters/20978933)

New York was huge. Newt had seen large buildings before - palaces in India, Hogwarts of course, and mountains - there was the incident he’d had in the Alps a few months ago, where Theseus had had to come and bail him out of jail after he got mixed up in a smuggling ring. But New York was different. These buildings reached up higher than he had ever seen, and the Muggles walking past didn’t even glance at them. This place was full of adventure, full of hope. Of course, he was just passing through - it would be a poor idea to stay close to MACUSA with his case, but Theseus had been insistent before he left. He was to meet Percival before travelling deeper into the country.

He had his visa in his pocket, Theseus’s signature in place. The visa was a little burned after Iceland, but it was still usable. He had permission to travel, and the muggle border guard had waved him through with only a cursory glance at his muggle passport. He already had a cover story in place for anyone who asked too many questions - that Theseus wanted him to meet someone. If he said that, they would normally leave him alone. He was just an omega. No one expected him to travel on his own whims - no one except Theseus. Theseus liked Newt for who he was, and he thought that Newt’s travel was interesting. He’d come back with stories to share that didn’t involve the kind of horror his auror brother dealt with on a daily basis. His travels were full of hope, and Theseus was proud of that. Proud of him.

That thought made Newt blush a little, as he glanced around. MACUSA was around here somewhere. He didn’t have a booked appointment, but he hoped his brother’s name would get him through the door. It normally did. He checked the paper. Theseus’s writing, spelling out directions that he would be able to follow without having to speak to any strangers.

He had intended to head straight to the Woolworth building and see Percival, but shouting caught his attention and he approached a crowd cautiously. There was a banner displaying a broken wand held above flames, and there was a woman shouting out her message. His attention was drawn to a young man nearby, body curled in on itself. He felt a pang of sympathy. The woman started to question him, and he suddenly cursed the potion Theseus had given him that allowed him to pass as a beta in front of muggles. An omega would be allowed to walk by in silence. He had no such luck.
“You, friend!” The woman shouted, and Newt shrunk into himself, recognising the challenge of an alpha. He tried to look anywhere but towards her face. “What drew you to our meeting today?”

The entire crowd was looking at him, and he clutched his wand in his sleeve. To stave off panic he started mentally repeating the phrase Theseus had insisted he learn before this trip. My alpha is a close friend of Director Percival Graves. He swallowed.
“I… I was just passing.”
“Are you a seeker? A seeker after truth?”

Newt thought back to Hogwarts, to the joy of flying, of feeling accepted while he soared through the air after the quaffle. He tried not to think about school, not with what happened after.
“I’m more of a chaser, really.”

He was rescued from the conversation by the sight of Niff making his way up the steps towards a hat of coins. Newt glanced up, and realised with a sense of horror which building this crowd was outside. The worst possible building for Niff to get into. He ran through the crowd after the creature.

The next few minutes passed in a blur as he focused on getting Niff back into his case before he managed to cause an international incident. As it was, he ended up dragging a beta muggle with him through the vaults, and pocketing the occamy that he had been carrying in his coat so his body heat could help it hatch. Then he petrified a muggle, tried to un-rob a bank, and disapparated just in time to avoid being shot.

He leaned against the wall, panting, and shoving both Niff and the occamy into his case and out of trouble.
“For the last time, you pilfering pest - Paws off what doesn’t belong to you.” He slammed his case shut and forced the locks closed, looking up at the muggle.
“I’m awfully sorry about that-” Newt began. He meant it - he knew about the Statute of Secrecy, knew he could be in a lot of trouble. It would be best to obliviate the poor man and let him get on with his life. “Nothing that need concern you. Now, unfortunately you have seen far too much, so if you wouldn’t mind, just stand there and this will be over in a jiffy…” He started to search through his pockets for his wand. That was the only problem with having enlargement charms on his pockets - it wasn’t easy to find his wand, and without his wand he couldn’t very well accio it.

Something slammed into him, and he fell to the floor, rubbing his head in pain as he watched the muggle’s retreating back.
“Bugger.” He sighed, trying to pick himself off the ground. He didn’t notice the alpha approaching until she grabbed his shoulder and disapparated with him.

***

Newt tried to breathe slowly, reminding himself of the phrase that would save him. My alpha is a close friend of Director Percival Graves. Hopefully it would be enough to keep him safe. She disapparated him and that meant she was a witch and that meant she could see that he was an omega. That made him vulnerable.
“Who are you?” She snarled, sounding angry.
“Newt Scamander. And you are?” He asked carefully, hoping he could get out of this conversation. He just needed to get away and then he could go to MACUSA.

“What is that thing in your case?”
“That’s Niff. He’s my niffler.”
“Why did you let that thing loose?”
Newt flinched, not liking her tone. He didn’t want his creatures to be taken away. They would get back to Theseus given time, but he had promised Frank that he would be let go and being sent back to England would be a huge delay.
“I didn’t mean to.” He murmured. “He’s incorrigible, you see, anything shiny-”

“You didn’t mean to-” She looked like she was about to start yelling, and he cringed, ducking away and staring at the wall behind her. “You could not have chosen a worse time to let that thing loose! We are in the middle of a situation here. I’m taking you in.”

For one horrible moment Newt thought she was kidnapping him. There were alphas out there who thought an unguarded omega was open prey. He fought down the wave of sickness which clawed at his throat.
“You’re taking me where?”

As she pulled out an official ID card he relaxed. She was taking him exactly where he wanted to go. If she was running an investigation, she probably worked with Graves. This wasn’t a disaster, this was the very guide he had been hoping for.
“Tell me you took care of the No-Maj?”
“The what?”
“The No-Maj. No-magic-The non-wizard!” Her voice was getting louder and angrier, and Newt shrunk back, trapped between her and the wall.

“Sorry.” He mumbled to her shoes. “We call them Muggles.”
“You wiped his memory right?”

Newt was silent, and her face grew angrier. He was frightened now, wondering where he would be taken. His alpha was friends with Director Graves. He’d be expelled from the country perhaps, but he wouldn’t be taken back there. He fought the urge to be sick, and she was looking at him with barely concealed disgust.

“Show me your papers.” She demanded, and he pulled them out - the visa at least wasn’t lost in the bottom of his coat. He kept that close to hand, a charm to ward off the worst of his memories. She looked it over.
“And does your husband know you are here?” She said, and that made Newt cringe. He recognised the voice she was using - the one that meant someone thought that Newt’s alpha couldn’t control him, that he was unruly, disobedient. It was a voice that lead to bad things happening.

“He’s my brother.” Newt whispered, and looked up to see the confusion in her eyes give way to righteous anger. For a moment he didn’t speak, but Newt had seen this happen often enough to be able to follow the thought pattern she was having - Newt was an omega second son of a pureblood family - his mother was a Fawley. He was a disgrace to the family name. In the past, it hadn’t been unheard of for families of the sacred twenty eight to kill omega children, or for them to disappear from public view. That combined with Newt’s clear fear of unknown alphas led to people making assumptions.

He used to correct those assumptions as soon as he could. But before his journey had started, Theseus had told him it was alright to let people think that, if it kept Newt safe. He’d said he didn’t mind what kind of monster they thought Theseus was if it meant Newt came home.

He flinched from the hand on his shoulder, but her voice was gentler now.
“I see.” She said softly. “You know, MACUSA offers asylum for omegas who wish to leave their alphas. Although there are better ways of getting our attention than letting dangerous beasts loose. You could have asked and we would have taken you to an appropriate refuge.”

To Newt, that sounded an awful lot like a reorientation program. Somewhere to be kept away from your life, and shaped into something more suitable - he fought the urge to panic, gasping softly.
“My brother is a close friend of Director Graves.” He managed to say, as breathing got faster, his heart hammering in his chest and the world spinning around him. The woman frowned slightly, and placed her hand on his arm, not gripping so tightly this time.
“Breathe…” She told him, carefully guiding him through a few deep breaths before disapparating them both again.

In front of them loomed the Woolworth Building, the very thing Newt had been looking for. He managed a weak smile.
“Come on.” She said, but she released his coat, watching him closely. “We need to speak to someone about the section 3A.”

He followed her meekly. It was alright. Graves would keep him safe, Theseus had promised.

(Sorry! Forgot to say!)

Oh god your plus one idea opens up a whole lot of possibilities!!

Filler here. Graves won through a landslide victory-- that house never stood any chance against him. Newt was rather nonplussed when Graves started aiming at the walls deliberately, you know. :)

I've finished the fic, the first chapter of which is above: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9150742/chapters/20789617

Credence is born touched by original sin, and raised to know that he is an unnatural monster. Moments from his life emphasise this, but there are spots of brightness as well, times when he manages to be good

Theseus is a wonderful older brother. Willing to let people misjudge him if it means his younger brother gets to go home... It is such a sad but sweet sacrifice.

Thanks for the update!

Hope you don't mind some art, OP

http://qed221b.tumblr.com/post/155625603942/

Oh, author, that was painfully great. (Except I want someone to save him now!) Well done.

glad you liked it! ^^ thanks for the comment!

thank you, thank you, thank you!

I like the pentagram over the patch, it's a nice touch.

Graves got one over Bandit! Good for Mr G.

I'll admit, I'm curious to see him interact with the demiguise, that quiet, wise, foreseeing animal. Looking forward to more!

When Percival Graves was found it would have been easier to list how many parts of his body were not bruised and/or broken than the ones that were. The healers recommended he be on bed rest for at least six weeks to ensure a full recovery.

He had Seraphina bringing him paperwork within the first week and had escaped the hospital and was back at his desk by the third. It was a good thing too, because the backlog caused by the Grindelwald/Scamander fiasco was enormous. It turned out that raining an untested potion over an entire city had less than perfect results, and so people were being pulled from their regular departments to help put out the figurative and sometimes literal fires all over New York. It also seemed like the entire Wand Permit Office had gone on vacation while he was being impersonated, and if he ever discovered who had destroyed the lock on his office door his was going to have them fired.

***

Gnarlak sat smugly across the interrogation table from aurors Prescott and Clarkson.

“I got nothing to fear from you two.”

Prescott made on exaggerated motion to look over the file in front of him.

“Smuggling and distribution of bootleg alcohol, aiding and abetting known criminals, and the release of a class XXX creature on an untrained populous. That’s going to get you some serious time on the rock.”

“I’ll beat it even without your deal. It’s all over the underbelly of this city that your head guy’s gone soft. If you guys can get taken for a ride by Grindelwald for months you’re no threat to the rest of us.”

The aurors decided taking a break was a better option than slamming him through a wall and went out into the hallway, Clarkson offering a cigarette that Prescott declined.

“He does have a point,” Clarkson said, lighting up.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean crimes in the city are up 30% and we all know it’s Graves’ fault. We’re supposed to be the force that intimidates people to stay on the straight and narrow. How the hell are we supposed to do that when our own boss is a patsy? Everyone always totted about how great he was, how skilled, how we should all work to be just like he is. But he goes up against Grindelwald and that high and mighty barbarian doesn’t end up a smear on the sidewalk? Please, Graves isn’t half the man he thinks he is, if he ever was.”

“Yeah, and you know maybe if he wasn’t such a bluenose one of us would have noticed he’d been replaced.”

“Is there something you wish to discuss with me, gentlemen?”

Both men spun around to see Graves, with a steely glare leveled at both of them.

“No, Sir.”

“Then get back to work.”

“Yes, Sir.”

7.

“Floor 32, please,” Sam said. “That’s a swell hat you’ve got there, Red.”

“Thanks.” Red tapped the button he’d attached to the band, smiling a little. “Not part of the uniform, but who’s gonna complain? Going up!”

Sam’s own “Graves Lives” button was on his lapel. “If someone does, you send ‘em to me.”

Red rolled his eyes a little. As though he’d ever need help from some junior Obliviator bozo. But the kid meant well.

8.

NEW TREND SUPPORTS MISSING DIRECTOR
by M. Carneirus

“Graves Lives,” or so proclaim the campaign-style buttons worn by hundreds of wizards and witches here in New York City--and beyond. The trend started with one Melantha Park, an employee of MACUSA, who says of her creations, “I just didn’t want anyone to give up on finding [Director Percival Graves] alive. I think he’s out there, and he needs our help.”

The brightly colored buttons are ubiquitous now at MACUSA headquarters, and have begun to spread through the wizarding population of New York City at large, and even the world.

“I sent one to my cousin in Billings,” said Augustus Fitch, a broom salesman. “He was in Director Graves’s class at Ilvermorny and still talks about the pranks they used to pull on each other. I knew he’d want one.” And the buttons have gone overseas, as well. It has been rumored that British war hero Theseus Scamander wears a “Graves Lives” button on his lapel.

A top-level staffer confirmed that even President Picquery is sporting a button. “President Picquery encourages all efforts to find Director Graves,” this reporter was told. “And this awareness campaign might help bring in new leads.”

Where can you get your own “Graves Lives” button? Park is still making them and handing them out, free of charge. “I am running short of supplies, though,” Park said. “If anyone wants to pitch in.”

9.

Beryl got back to the typing pool a bit late after her lunch, and took a moment to check her makeup with the compact mirror she kept in her purse. She fixed her hair a little, smoothing an errant curl, then adjusted the “Graves Lives” button on her blouse, making sure it was straight. The real Mr. Graves would hardly approve of a crooked button, she was sure. He was always so elegant and tidy, with his tailored suits. The impostor had copied those, but it was a surprise that no one had noticed he wasn’t Mr. Graves, really, considering the little details. Beryl wrinkled her nose in memory.

Queenie, from Wand Permits, was walking by with a stack of paperwork and suddenly tripped, almost dropping it.

“What was that?” she said.

“What?” Beryl asked.

“What did you just say?”

Beryl frowned at Queenie. “I didn’t. I wasn’t talking.”

Queenie bit her lip. “Um, I think you were. Talking to yourself a little, maybe? It’s just that you said something about Graves…”

Beryl’s frown turned to puzzlement. Had she really been talking to herself? That wasn’t a usual habit of hers.

“I was just thinking that the real one always smelled so nice. You know? Some kind of cologne or something. And Grindelwald looked like him, and acted like him, and probably used his cologne, too, but sometimes he smelled like…” She wrinkled her nose again. “Like a sewer. Just a little. But I’ve always been sensitive about smells.”

Queenie set her stack of papers down on the corner of Beryl’s desk, too close to the edge, and didn’t even look as they tumbled off and fell to the floor. “You have to come with me,” she said intently. “Right now.”

“What? Why?” But Queenie seemed so intent on it that Beryl was already standing.

Queenie grabbed Beryl’s wrist, and started towing her to the elevator. “I think you just broke the case!”

oh gosh this is amazing!!! thank you anon!

Oh, I hope they'll find real Graves soon. I'm curious to see what he will make of the button campaign.

OMG I am so excited this is getting filled. And what a pair of cowardly aurors, they don't even tell it Graves to the face, who is a patsy then. I think the fact that they didn't spot Grindelwald tell more about them and their observational skills then about Graves.

Much love for Awesome Big Brother Theseus and this fill - looking forward to more.

The first time it occurs to him that his marriage isn't going to work out positively for him, is the first time he is raped made love to by his husband a mere 4 hours after saying his vows. It been barely 6 months since the Grindelwald incident and a little over 5 since the man's escape from custardy. He’d been told in no uncertain terms that this was his only way to remain helpful. There had been no suggestion that he might keep his career as head of department. It was marry for political gains and get a foothold in their department, away from the rumour and stain, or quit. Quitting had been discouraged as he would have been on trial himself then for providing assistance ( however unwilling ) to the enemy. He'd agreed and this is what it got him.
On his knees on his new husband's bed, fists tightly clenched in the sheets, fighting down the moan of pain that was desperate to escape, while his new husband ( and the source of his distress) ploughed into him from his position wedged between the thighs that Percival was fighting instincts that were screaming at him to close to prevent further agony.
It didn't surprise him that the sex made him think about Grindelwald, after all he was the only man Percival had ever been with before this so naturally his mind responded to the feeling of another man inside him by finding the closest reference point. What did surprise him was how different these two acts could be. An act had only ever been pleasurable,was currently sending waves of pain up his spine and down the backs of his aching thighs.
The thrusts into his unprepared body became jerky and uncoordinated before his husband came, then pulled out painfully. Percival heard the other man vacate the bed and the bathroom door slam, and he sat up from the huddle he'd been in. As he did so his belly cramped painfully, Percival winced and pressed the flat of his palm against his lower belly in an effort to soothe his pain. Percival worked to right what little of his clothing had been displaced it wasn't hard his pants were at this knees but nothing else had been touched, another difference whether with Gellert with any previous partner he'd always enjoyed striping to the skin and getting his partner just as bare to feel their skin on his. He lowered himself gingerly to sit on the edge of the bed and looked down at himself, he was shaking he noted with surprise. Despite considerable, conscious effort he was unable to bring the tremor under control, bringing the hand not kneading his belly up he rubbed anxiously at his mouth, wondering how things had gone so wrong. He was far from home in Italy, newly married, shaking and in considerable pain on his wedding night.
Lost in his pained musings, Percival was taken off guard when a fist caught him square on the outer ridge of his left eye socket, and he was knocked off the bed by the blow. A foot then caught him square in his aching belly causing him to groan and curl tighter around the injury, not tightly enough as the next blow caught him hard in the bollocks. He keened and fought down the wave of nausea that assailed him at the impact, all the while trying to work out what was happening, and why. He was unsurprised but dismayed when a hand grabbed him by the hair and he came face to face with his husband of 4 hours. Struggling to kneel up due to the pain in his abdomen he nearly fell when his husband shook him like a terrier shakes a rat (he would have had it not been for the hand holding his hair tightly) his husband then dragged his face over to the bed and mashed it into the covers.
Percival had a moment of total panic, thinking that he was going to be taken again and worrying about the pain he was already in whether he would be able to take another round so soon after the first. “What is this?!” The shouted query was punctuated with a slap around the back of his head, before the hand pulled his head back enough that he could focus on the bedspread before his eyes. Blood, there was blood on the sheets. Percival felt dazed looking at that stain, this had never happened before he'd been held by the most wanted man for a year and it was during his marriage that he bled after sex. He had only a fraction of a second to ponder this before his face was smashed into the carpet where Percival presumed that he'd spilled more blood while dressing.
He was however unable to confirm his suspicion as he was hauled up and shoved bodily from the room and into the hall. Not expecting the move he bounced off the opposite hall wall and fell. A final kick glanced off his shoulder before another slammed door told Percival that he was alone.
He paused for a second, before the panic that was still thrumming through him at the idea that he might be asked to endure another rape?, touch? lovemaking session tonight, forced him up to his feet. One hand on the wall ( it was still shaking, why couldn't he stop it shaking?) he stumbled along the corridor along to the rooms that were him. It was only once he'd nearly fallen into them and got the door shut on the rest of the world that he felt able to relax.
Striping his clothes off hastily, almost angrily despite not being able to pinpoint how or when the emotion had occurred,he went to shower. Getting under the hot spray he hung his head, dropped slowly to his knees and cried. When he'd first had sex with a man ( he'd offered himself as a decoy to protect one of his own, having seen the other's interest, not that they had regarded themselves as such nor that they'd ever noticed he was gone, or missed him) he'd expected what had happened today, no prep, pain, blood and his own miserable shame. However on that occasion he'd been astounded when the other man had kissed him softly, wrapped one calloused palm around both of them and had brought him nothing but pleasure, after Percival had come Gellert Grindelwald had followed soon after then sucked their combined come from his fingers while telling Percival how lovely he looked when he came.
His marriage had been such a different turn of events he didn't know how to process it, he hadn't expected romance but neither had he expected this.
Eventually having cried himself out under the comfortingly hot spray he climbed out of the shower, cast the few healing charms that he knew on himself, the got a few painkilling and anti septic potions from the first aid kit he'd brought thinking eagerly towards his return to field work and considering patching his husband's wounds in the meantime. He'd never considered having to patch himself up after a rape sex a mere day after leaving the US.
Briefly he toyed with the idea of fire calling home and telling them what has occurred. Two things prevent him, firstly the knowledge that his position here is necessary, war is brewing and they need all the manpower they can achieve, and all the contacts they can forge, he is more useful here that at home in a cell. The second is his own shame he can't call home and tell them he's struggling a day after leaving. It's no wonder people think of him as week, why he is talked about behind closed doors and why he's been sent to aid his country on his back rather than on his feet wand in hand facing down the enemy. No he knows he cannot call, but as he curls into bed that first night in an old creepy house far from home, pain still curling in his gut, in his genitals and other places he's trying to ignore, he wishes he could.

10.

Tina had buttons in different colors for each day of the week. She was wearing a yellow one when they finally found him.

The typist’s sense of smell had provided the clue they’d been missing. They had searched every building that Graves had any connection with, and every building that Grindelwald’s supporters had even breathed near, it seemed, and they actually had checked underground near Graves’s residence, and a few other key areas around the city. But not in the sewers surrounding the Woolworth Building.

But once they had a reason to direct the hunt downward, Tina’s search team was able to detect a space that had been magically carved out just past the anti-Apparation wards. The next trick was figuring out how to get in.

“I wonder if no-maj explosives would do it?” Roberts wondered aloud, after they’d tried the fifteenth thing that didn’t work.

“Do you know how to use those?” Smythe asked, a little more sincerely than Tina was comfortable with.

Roberts shrugged. “How hard can it be? Don’t you just set them on fire?”

“I guess one of us better jog back to HQ and get some backup,” Smythe said. “Someone will be able to crack it, eventually.”

“Oh, fuck it,” Tina said, and Apparated blind.

It was the kind of thing she had been taught to never, ever do at school. And the message had been driven home when she was in training as an Auror, when a fellow trainee tried it and lost an arm inside a wall. It was a stupid, stupid thing to do. But Tina couldn’t even chastise herself properly once she saw Graves, chained to a wall and barely conscious. She couldn’t have let him stay in that, that pit for one second longer.

“Graves!” she said. She knelt by his side and put one hand on his neck, reassuring herself that he was actually still alive. He breathed, had a pulse, even flickered his eyelids, but he didn’t respond to her voice or her touch. “I’m here. You’re safe, now. Hang on.”

Grindelwald had used actual chains, spaced far enough apart that Graves could barely move his arms. It had probably prevented him from using wandless magic at first, Tina thought, as she examined them. Malnutrition and general ill treatment would have made that even more impossible, with time. The dried blood staining Graves’s sleeves and the raw, torn skin circling his wrists showed that he had struggled to free his hands repeatedly, even so.

There was probably a spell that would be perfect for gently removing the cuffs from Graves’s wrists, but Tina couldn’t think of it, and his pulse was so faint already… She blasted the ends that were sunk into the walls, instead, destroying them with brute force. Graves’s arms dropped, the chains hitting the ground with a jangling clatter.

“It’s okay, Percival,” Tina said, as she put her arms around him, half-lifting him - she shouldn’t have been able to do it, but he was so thin - and got them both out of there.

“Goldstein!” Smythe yelled, when she popped back into the sewer proper. “You damn fool!”

“Help me with him,” Tina said, ignoring him completely.

Rogers was a big man, and he took Graves from her, hefting him easily. “Morgana’s tits,” he muttered. “What did that bastard do to him?” In the light of Smythe’s Lumos, they could see bruising all over Graves’s face, and marks that looked like the result of some viciously nasty hexing.

“We’ve got him now,” Tina said, wiping away sudden, messy tears. “He’s going to be okay.”

+1.

He knew that he’d been rescued. He had a blurry impression of light, fresh air, gentle hands. Goldstein crying unattractively. Potions tipped down his throat, clean sheets and a soft bed, competent-sounding people discussing his condition in largely favorable terms. But Graves wasn’t really aware until he’d been in the hospital for about a week.

He opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling. It was a clean white. Nothing stank. Graves smiled, and turned his head to take in more of the room.

There was a bouquet of pale roses on a bedside table, with a ribbon tied in a cheerful bow around the vase. Pinned to the center of the bow was a button with the words “Graves Lives” on it.

Percival Graves frowned, and spoke the first words he had said aloud in weeks.

“What the hell?”

~fin~

Thank you for reading! :D

Hah! I did some research on pinback buttons before I wrote this (because of course I did. Which would be funnier if a) I wasn't anonymous and b) you knew me, but trust me, it's an of course I did sort of thing), and there's a collector's market for some campaign buttons, even though they tend to be produced in bulk quantities and are durable enough to last for generations. The main factors seem to be sentimental attachment and notoriety.

PERSONALLY, I think "Graves Lives" buttons would become highly collectible. Just saying.

I'm so glad you're enjoying this story! It's been really fun to write. I'm doing some really heavy stuff, also, and a light, upbeat (you know, mostly) fic like this one is a delight.

Thank you!

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Page 44 of 142

Prompt Post #2

FILL: Dirty Paws - Chapter 1/?

Re: Fill: A Gilded Cage is Still A Cage (Prologue/?)

Re: Fill: A Gilded Cage is Still A Cage (Prologue/?)

POST ABOVE IS Fill: A Gilded Cage is Still A Cage (1/?)

Re: Newt/any cockblocking creatures

Re: Fill: Graves/Newt Moving On

Kind of a Fill... Born a Sinner (Complete)

Re: POST ABOVE IS Fill: A Gilded Cage is Still A Cage (1/?)

ArtFill - Graves with an Eyepatch

Re: Fearful Symmetry

Re: Fill: Unicorns

Re: ArtFill - Graves with an Eyepatch

Re: [Fill] Beastspeaker 3/6? - Graves/Newt, Graves can talk to magical beasts

Re: Graves and Grindelwald - Victim Blaming - fill 1/?

FILL: GRAVES LIVES button campaign 3/4

Re: FILL: GRAVES LIVES button campaign 3/4

Re: FILL: GRAVES LIVES button campaign 3/4

Re: Graves and Grindelwald - Victim Blaming - fill 1/?

Re: Fill: A Gilded Cage is Still A Cage (Prologue/?)

Re: Graves/Grindelwald, Graves/Other- Devil You Know, non/dubcon, domestic abuse

FILL: GRAVES LIVES button campaign 4/4

Re: FILL: GRAVES LIVES button campaign 2/?

Re: FILL: GRAVES LIVES button campaign 2/?

Re: FILL: GRAVES LIVES button campaign 2/?

Re: FILL: GRAVES LIVES button campaign 3/4