Prompt Post #2

[fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme]

  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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Comments

Graves/Newt StarWars!AU

[(Anonymous)]

Newt and Graves in Star Wars universe, any timeline. All I ask for is for one of themm to be a starfighter pilot, the rest is up to the author.

Lost and Found, SW (New Republic Era) AU, pre-Graves/Newt

[(Anonymous)]

I don't know what I'm doing, wheee! I might write more or this might be it.

***

“I usually don’t—“ Scamander was interrupted as the vornskr’s tail swept his feet out from beneath him, depositing him ungracefully onto the muddy, uneven ground. He yelped.

Graves took advantage of the lull to fire two blasts at the vornskr. Three smaller beasts were unconscious nearby, but this one was apparently the alpha, and mildly resistant to stunning. Combined with the fact that Graves’ blaster was low on power, the blasts prompted nothing but a stagger, a snarl, and the shifting of animal attention from Scamander to Graves.

Graves paused a moment, cursing his luck, and the beast charged.

In the scrambling confusion, Graves heard the distinctive snap-hiss of a Jedi’s lightsaber. Then he had no more time to think; the vornskr was on him, jaw clamping around his right forearm in place of his throat. His flightsuit had enough armoring to keep the teeth at bay, but the pressure was intense and he heard himself bellowing, all thoughts of strategy flying from his mind. Instinctively, he clawed at the beast’s face, its eyes and then it’s mouth, trying to distract it, startle it, pry it off.

Instead, it lifted him off the ground and shook him briskly, slamming him repeatedly into a nearby tree trunk. Winded and in pain, Graves’ attack subsided, body limp. His head was full of listless floating, the edges of unconsciousness. He almost welcomed it. The creature planted a clawed foot on his sternum and leaned in close, his arm still tight in its maw, and growled in pure menace.

A beat later, Scamander was there, straddling the massive creature’s back. From his up-close perspective, Graves saw the moment Scamander wrapped the remains of his Jedi cloak over its face, blindfolding it.

With one last, bone-jarring shake, the vise around his arm released, the vornskr preferring to attack the nuisance on its back instead of a captive fighter pilot. Swearing, Graves rolled away from the monster, cradling his injured arm to his chest and crawling towards his blaster. With it in his hand, he turned back to Scamander, prepared to see him locked in a desperate struggle with the animal—

Instead, he found them in a stand-off. Scamander saw the blaster aimed at the vornskr and made a cut it out gesture. Graves scowled – what the hell his wrong with you? – and Scamander gestured again, a sharp, unequivocal no.

In deference to his obvious insanity, Graves lowered the blaster, but didn’t holster it. The vornskr staggered and howled, a strangely mournful sound. Graves realized that Scamander hadn’t just blinded it; he’d also tied his cloak around the beast’s head, blocking its ears.

“I was saying,” Scamander said suddenly, voice low and quiet but startlingly loud in the Ithorian forest, “that I usually don’t have this much trouble with animals. This fellow is—“ He paused, mouth twisting wryly. “A rare case.”

Somehow, blinding and deafening the animal seemed to have neutralized its combat instincts. It used its sense of smell to locate its packmates and subject them to a thorough sniffing; then it turned its face from Scamander, towards Graves, and then back again. It’s mouth was half-open, drool spilling between needle-sharp teeth, as it inhaled deeply.

Reminded, Graves inspected his arm. A few tears and cuts, but the majority of the pain was from something deeper. He grimaced, picturing broken bones, a stay in a bacta tank or – worse – time spent grounded. How was he going to fly his fighter with a broken arm?

“They use the Force to hunt,” Scamander continued to explain, still low and soothing. The vornskr rumbled, and it occurred to Graves that Scamander wasn’t really talking to him. Apparently, the animal wasn’t completely deafened. “Or at least they used to, far in their evolutionary past. On their home planet, their prey have adapted to block the Force – creating a sort of bubble around themselves. So they rely on their other senses, like most animals.”

As he spoke, Scamander stood carefully. His lightsaber was still glowing in his hand. He must have used it to cut his cloak, Graves surmised, and to create a blindfold. It would have been smarter if he’d used it to kill the creature. No wonder General Solo always said Jedi were more trouble than they were worth.

“There’s nothing to block the Force here, is there?” Graves asked, suddenly concerned. He’d been relieved, at least initially, when a Jedi stumbled over the camp of Imperial mercenaries who’d taken him prisoner. If Scamander couldn’t use the Force, however, he was going to end up being even more of a liability than he already was.

The vornskr turned towards his voice, and then huffed. It was a strangely … non-hostile sound. Almost amused. Graves tightened his grip on his dying blaster warily.

“No, no,” Scamander said soothingly. He took a step closer to the vornskr – Graves inhaled sharply – and then crouched, spreading his hands. “Not at all. That’s the problem, of course.”

The animal sniffed and moaned, low in its throat, and then nuzzled it’s fallen packmate. Only unconscious, Graves recalled, but it made something in his gut twinge nonetheless, reminding him of his pilots stranded somewhere in this dark forest.

“You’ll have to explain,” Graves prompted nervously.

Scamander shifted to crouch a bit more comfortable, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “You see,” he said, in that same nervous, professorial tone, “being cut off from the Force – when you’re Force-sensitive, at least – is like losing a sense. Sight, or hearing. Your other senses sharpen. And then when the Force returns….” He gestured, grimacing.

Graves narrowed his eyes, thinking of how the light from Scamander’s blade had sent him recoiling, when the man removed his blindfold. “More intense?” he hazarded. Scamander looked blank, so he sighed and clarified. “It’s more intense. Overwhelming.”

“Yes. Precisely. It becomes just this … deafening roar of sensation and noise. Quite frightening. And that’s only after a – a brief exposure to a ysalamiri field. This fellow….” Scamander shuffled a step closer to the vornskr, and then another. To Graves’ astonishment, the animal – taller than Scamander in his prone state, and probably weighing three times as much – bowed its head. “This fellow grew up with that silence, and then was brought here, to hunt for Jedi artifacts. The chaos in his head made it hard to break through. So I needed to….”

Scamander’s voice trailed off as he reached out one, trembling hand, touching the vornskr’s snout. Graves lowered his blaster the rest of the way, watching in captivated silence.

Eventually, finally, Scamander stood. Graves flinched as he removed the blindfold, but the vornskr just blinked, it’s deadly tail wagging. Wagging. What the hell.

Graves shook his head, catching Scamander’s attention. “You needed to dim its senses to communicate with it.” He sighed, holstering his blaster at last. “It’s not going to attack us? It’s calm?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ve promised to help him get back home.” Scamander straightened and brushed forest detritus off his knees. Given that the rest of his Jedi uniform – tunic, vest, and loose pants – were torn and muddied, it accomplished very little. “He’ll help us, I believe, although it might be safer for him to stay in the camp and hide instead.” Scamander put his hands on his hips, looking over the scene of their brief, pitched battle, and then to Graves. “You know, I never did find out why you were here. Or how you came to be captured.”

Graves snorted, flashing back to the ambushed patrol, Queenie’s X-wing shot down, Tina following her wingmate and sister despite his orders to retreat. He’d been so busy arguing with her, he’d failed to notice the Ugly on his tail until a lucky blast got past his shields and hit his forward stabilizer. And then that had been it for him.

“It’s a long story,” he finally said. He took a few careful steps in the shadowy darkness, trying to find his footing; was it his imagination, or were things spinning? His suspicions were confirmed when the Jedi caught him, bright eyes capturing his gaze and holding it.

Graves blinked, dazed. “I’ve … never met a Jedi before,” he admitted. His tongue felt thick, unaccustomed to honesty.

“Most people haven’t,” Scamander said absently, unperturbed. A strange sensation, like gentle rain at dawn, washed over him, and the throbbing in his arm abated, his head felt clearer. He blinked, glancing down at Scamander’s hand on his bicep, and then back into his clever, pointed face.

Scamander released him and took a step back. “We’re just like everyone else,” he said nervously, twitching an insincere smile. “I assure you.”

Graves glanced at the vornskr, who regarded him with something like commiseration, and then down at his arm, still an injured mess but considerably less painful. And then, finally, at the lightsaber which Scamander had refused to wield as a weapon, but still carried in his hand.

With a twitch of his thumb, the Jedi extinguished the blade.

“Right,” Graves said sardonically. “Sure. Just like everyone else.” He sighed, shook his head one last time, and started an inspection of the camp. “Come along, Jedi Scamander. Let’s see if we can’t find a way out of this mess.”