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fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme) wrote2016-12-25 04:42 pm
fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme) wrote2016-12-25 04:42 pm
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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.
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Newt/Graves - Date Auction
(Anonymous) 2017-01-14 03:43 am (UTC)(link)Except the guy who starts seriously bidding on Newt is well known as a sexually harassing sleazebag, and nobody has the extra money to bid against him- except Percival, who to everyone's shock readily bids a ridiculous amount in the name of saving Newt from an awful night of being leered over.
Go where you want from there!
Re: Newt/Graves - Date Auction
(Anonymous) 2017-01-14 04:27 am (UTC)(link)FILL - Going once, going twice... (1/2)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-14 02:39 pm (UTC)(link)Queenie has pinched his wrist twice already in the course of a pumpkin cocktail (alcohol-free, Madam President's orders, although the word is already out that Tod from Portkey Frauds has spiked the root beer), six crisps, two iced shrimps and eighteen oversalted peanuts. Newt wishes she'd stop.
"Who?" He twists his head cautiously. Probing new terrains is part of a Magizoologist's pride and joy, but tonight's fauna is well past his expertise. He's still not used to human affluence, and MACUSA's ballroom is crammed door to door with witches and wizards wearing their Samhain best. Sequin-sewn dresses and orichalque cufflinks and, Merlin, he did remember to lock Niffty in before he left?
"Gordon 'Flash' Lockhart!" Queenie peeps excitedly. "Bravest and handsomest wizard this side of Manhattan! Winner of the "Inspire Your Own Legend Award"! And he's..."
"...your entertainer tonight, ladies and gentleman," quoth a tall wizard with curly blond hair and a smile that would have Niffty swoon in ecstasy at first sight. The man opens his arms wide. "Now! While I am aware that some of you have most kindly campaigned for my, ah, personal involvement in tonight's revels, I am loath to tell you that I shall have to stand aside from the prize row. But you're all getting a free apéritif with Gordon Lockhart! Now, MACUSA's Dating Auction this year is dedicated to the war orphans relief fund, and I am certain that you will all..."
Well, yes, Newt knows this. It's the very reason why he's sitting here in his bow-tie, tucked between Tina's and Queenie's bare arms, opposite a beaming Jacob who has no call looking so amused - No-Majs, even honorary ones, won't be on the line tonight.
"Chuckle up, honey!" Queenie leans sideways. "It's all in good fun, promise. D'you think Tina here would doll herself up and climb these steps otherwise?"
"I'm not a doll," Tina says firmly.
"Well, me, then. And with a gentleman friend already," Queenie laughs, and Jacob lifts his hands good-naturedly.
"Long as I get the last dance," he says, eyes to the floor where six witches are doing a dance called, to Newt's indescribable outrage, "the Thunderbird Trot". Thunderbirds don't trot. Birds don't trot. Why is he here again?
Oh, yes. Orphans. He couldn't resist his friends' appeal, not when he himself has taken so many motherless babes under his wing. As MACUSA's new consultant, he was nominated by default. As MACUSA's latter-day saviour, he was strongly urged to say yes and crank up the whoopee. "It's a bit silly, but all very harmless," Tina told him. "The highest bidder gets to spend an evening with you up to midnight. You, well, you dance with them, smile, listen, make yourself generally pleasant. Sometimes they take you to see a late no-maj show. These, how d'you call them - evil vaults?"
"Vaudevilles, Jacob edits. "They're all the rage, these days."
"Whatever. Then, when midnight calls, it's over - a polite good-bye, and off you toddle to your bed. Or case."
"Each to his own," Queenie says, adding mischieviously. "Unless decided otherwise by both parties."
Newt still feels a bit stiff, possibly because of the number of Scourgifies he's treated his coat to. He knows about dating - in theory, that is; somehow, the practice has never quite come to more than sitting his date down and jumping to his own feet again due to some beast alert or other.
But MACUSA is his terrain now. MACUSA has given him friends, opportunities, a jaunty new lifestyle and a local publisher's advance that will see even the Erumpent through for the next ten years or so. This is the least he can do to repay MACUSA.
He nods to himself, the jerk of head bringing him back to reality and the current event.
"...gone! And to none other than Madam Seraphina Picquery, our highest bidder tonight! Well scored, Gertrude Goodwin! Don't forget to pick up your copy of How I Defeated Grindelwald's Lesser-Known Fourth Cousin by Marriage on your way out!"
"Too bad yours is still under print," Tina murmurs. "I'll take the Death Cell over any of Lockhart's prose."
"Yes, but Gertie's still a lucky girl. Picquery always does that," Queenie adds for the men. "Picks up one of the smaller fry and makes sure they get a good time. Also, everyone knows Gertie's engaged to Bert of Potions Control, so there won't be any tittle-tale. Oh, my turn? Goody!"
"I wish I could bid for you, sweetie-pie. But I'll just sit and clap for the lucky fella, right?"
"We know who that is in the end." Queenie brushes her lacquered lips to Jacob's moustache and trots up to the platform. Five minutes later, to a riproaring clap of applause, she is tucking her arm under that of the infamous Tod.
"Don't worry," Auror Tina Goldstein confides rather loudly to the air. "Any ill-advised stunt, this boy knows who he'll answer to tomorrow."
She pats Newt's shoulder and rises in turn. The bidding, slightly wobbly at first, soars up past "galleongate" (Tod) when Tina waves her handbag, telling the crowd how it holds Theseus Scamander's personal autograph to her, and wouldn't they like a peep at that?
"Clever girl," Jacob says. He looks over at Newt and giggles over his root beer. "Think I heard your name, pal. Go bring the house down!"
Newt stands up. Newt flashes back a faint smile at Gordon Lockhart's come-hither grin and MACUSA's standing ovation. Newt steps over to the platform.
All fun, his friends say. And he trusts them. And it's not like he can't socialize for a few hours, can he? It will be nice to make a new acquaintance - his mother's words, so long ago, enveloping him like her arms while they stood on 9 3/4 Platform. Perhaps they'll want to know about ashwinders? He's just revised his chapter about them, could tell them about the beautiful incandescent...
Then Newt hears the silence.
Re: FILL - Going once, going twice... (1/2)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-14 02:59 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL - Going once, going twice... (1/2)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-14 03:13 pm (UTC)(link)But a little angst first. Hehe.
Re: FILL - Going once, going twice... (1/2)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-14 03:28 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL - Going once, going twice... (1/2)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-14 03:44 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL - Going once, going twice... (2/3)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-15 02:55 pm (UTC)(link)The man crossing upstage to Picquery’s vacated table, right at the foot of the platform, is known to many. He is Jaeger Jackson, heir to the Family that gave MACUSA its first-ever president and kept it afloat in its post-Salem days. This Jackson mostly keeps himself afloat: he owns a roadster, a Hippogriff racing stable, nine parts of a no-maj skyscraper, and a bank account that could allegedly drive both Gringotts’ Treasury Board and the gold bullion to their knees.
And he likes his little fun.
While presidential heirs hold a right of access to MACUSA, what Jaeger does there has never been clear. Presumably, he holds some sort of office rank – although the very opposite of a desk worm. If anything he’s a hound. The sort that will let his arm slither up and round your neck while he leans ver t check yur work, and flick his tongue at the tip of your quill. Newt remembers Red the Bellboy giving him the tiniest shake of the head, once, when the elevator’s doors pinged open and there was Jaeger, striding past him into the cage, his hand wooing Newt’s hip as he did. Newt slapped his forehead brightly and turned on his heels.
Rumours of girls, boys, men and women too, asked to bring in a report well past office curfew. Elusive, yet clingy; never a big boom, because Jaeger’s smart, a touch-and-go hound in the workplace; but enough to set the word going – and once set, it runs like fiendyfire – that you really, really do not want him on your side Problem is, you don’t want him on your bad side either. So it seems that the only victory over him is flight, when Picquery herself, Tina once said, lips hard and angry, can’t afford to pluck that thornbush off MACUSA’s side.
Only, now, flight is not an option.
He watches as Jaeger sits, both hands on his thighs splayed apart, nodding casually for Lockhart to move. If Lockhart has any clue why the atmosphere has dropped to subpolar levels, he doesn’t betray them – merely graces Jaeger with a peer-to-peer smile.
"And here we have a strapping young specimen –" Oh god, Jaeger is leering. Newt has a dramatic view on his heavy-chinned, heavy-lidded face, his patrician looks gone to waste. When his eyes spider up to Newt’s face, Newt has to look away, the heat flagellating his cheeks.
"… shared the front page with me in Transfiguration Today, after Director Graves refused to… but some of us have their reasons that reason knows not of. A prize escort, ladies and gentlemen!"
Somebody shut that fool up!
"…blushes so charmingly…"
"Four Dragot!" Heads turn, Newt’s too, swirled by gratitude. The infamous Todd grins sheepishly, rubbing at his wrist.
"Ha, ha, Mr Greencoin – no buyer’s remorse, I hope?"
"Forty Dragots." Jaeger Jackson stretches his legs out platform-ward.
"Now we’re talking!" Lockhart parades Lockhart’s smile once more around the room. "Do I hear…"
"Fifty." The quiet voice of Elijah Bienvenu, Newt’s superior.
"Two hundreds."
"Two…two hundreds and ten!" Tina and her bidder, their heads close together – with six others. Opal from Floo Statistics is emptying her pearl-beaded bag: obviously, they’re pooling resources.
Jaeger Jackson throws his head back and laughs. "Five hundred Dragots. He’s worth it."
The unease is thick enough you could slabs of it and sell it by the pound. Breathe, Newt tells himself. Breathe. You’ll live – you can ask to stay here, Tina and the others will too. Just a few hours, that’s all. Just a few hours of dancing with Jackson, with Jackson’s roving hands and vile-storied breath… Newt’s sweat is staining his peripheral vision, a grey-green mist.
"A year-round, all-you-can-eat voucher for Kowalski’s!"
Jacob, Newt thinks, eyes closed, stinging at the brave, hopeless rush unto the breach.
"Mister…" Lockhart’s voice is sickeningly bright. "Mister No-Maj, I’m afraid any degradable currency is off the cards!"
Silence.
"Well, Mr Scamander, you can boast of a record bid! Going once…"
For the orphans.
"Going twice…"
He can do this.
"Five thousand Dragots."
Re: FILL - Going once, going twice... (2/3)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-15 03:23 pm (UTC)(link)All right, so Jaeger is a major asshole and I already dislike him. Can someone curse him for that laugh? After that comment "he's worth it" I'm sure Newt wouldn't have to ask to stay at MACUSA - his friends would make sure he doesn't leave it as long as Jaeger is at hit side.
I need to read memo about Dragots too, but five thousands Dragots seems like a lot money if Tina had to team up with someone else to bid (or they just didn't take too much money with them).
"Auction date" is one of my favorite tropes and there are not enough "thank you" in the world to thank you, A!Anon for writing this story. Characters are alive, the plot is good, dialogues are great too, Newt's inner monologue and behaviour were just perfect. I can't wait to read next part!
Re: FILL - Going once, going twice... (2/3)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-15 03:27 pm (UTC)(link)Thanks for that long and lovely comment! I love this trope too, but had never written it so far, this is precious encouragement indeed.
Re: FILL - Going once, going twice... (2/3)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-15 04:20 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL - Going once, going twice... (2/3)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-15 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)FILL - Going once, going twice... (3a/3)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-18 10:45 pm (UTC)(link)Lockhart’s are the first to leave the field.
"Director Graves. Why, that’s… that’s rather…" Lockhart shimmies self-consciously. A joke is a joke is a joke? Haha. Ha. Not that I’d have pegged you for a wag…"
"I have never" – Graves’s eyes are not on his interlocutor – "been more serious."
Newt can’t see Jaeger’s face. But he sees it flinch alert; raise a tick, half-buried into the fleshly cheek. Slowly, heavily, Jaeger returns his hand to his knee.
"Five thousand Dragots," Lockhart repeats, tilting the scales further away from centerstage. "This is very –"
"This is an I.O.U.," Graves cuts in, holding up his napkin – the linen still immaculate – with his pencilled initials on it. "I think you will find I am solvent, Mr Lockhart. Shall we carry on?"
It takes the next words – also a repetition – to do the spell: to Transfigure the pillory back into a platform, and Leviosa Newt down in two steps. He doesn’t care if they send him bang into Jaeger’s vision field, and in fact they don’t: not when Graves is standing between them. Graves bows and Newt, still light-headed, bows back and takes his proferred arm.
The band strikes up again, and the floor is no longer theirs – much to Newt’s delight.
-----------------------
"Why?"
The man he only saw twice before – once in a hospital bed, briefly, Percival being a man of few words at the time, and once on Newt’s first and hopefully last job interview – signals for two new cocktails. Newt takes a long sip, relishing the solid coldness of the glass under his palms.
"Why?" Graves smiles a little. "Let me see. Why would I hate the thought of a piece of scum appropriating you so he can take liberties with your physical presence?" Graves runs a hand through his hair, and Newt’s mind flashes back to the gaunt, odd-cropped head on a hospital pillow. "Because I’ve been there?"
Newt lets the understanding in, then says simply "Thank you".
"Please. Consider it a kindness repaid. And do not worry about Jackson – you won’t have cause to again. The President and I are – doing some intra-ward planning." Graves raises his glass. "Newt."
Newt raises his. "Percival."
The dark eyes light up, and suddenly it is as if the man – friend – across the table looked younger; the golden walls and bright music less of a foil to his gravitas. They clink glasses, and Percival says, "How’s the book going, then?"
-----------
"They’re still looking at me."
"Of course they are. You’re tittering."
"I’m doing… nothing… of the sort." Graves wipes at his eyes. "Seriously, Newt? You shared your nursery with a… with a…"
Newt sighs dramatically. "Only part time. I told you!"
"Now I know why you bow so gracefully. Nothing like early practice."
"Hippogriffs are slow-paced and Mother thought it would be all the better to socialize them early on. Also, it saved bottle time, once she’d taught Fido not to shred the rubber teat – will you stop?"
Percival clutches the table and makes absolutely no effort to stop.
-----------------
"…My grandparents had Leprechauns – a whole dozen of them. They flatly refused to stay back in Eire, so my Morai poked a few holes into her witch-hatbox: she was always one for tradition. I used to visit them on school holidays, the Leprechauns. Well, until they discovered the Wisconsin wood fairies and decided to go forth and multiply."
"Did you go back to see them?"
Percival leans forward and taps a gentle finger to the edge of Newt’s spoon. The ice-cream, well past liquefaction, gives back a blobbing sound. "I’ll tell you if you resume eating. You’ve been holding that spoon in a death grip for the last ten minutes."
"It’s delicious! No, really!" Newt hastens to bring the freeze-framed spoon to his mouth. "I’d never tasted marshmallow cream before. But did you?"
"No." Percival sighs across his smile. "I’m not sure I could even find them now - they must have learnt natural camouflage."
"But they’d know you."
"Would they?" Loaded lower tones, deeper than Percival’s customary baritone. "Am I so knowable?"
"Yes," Newt says, carried away by a fierce, fond instinct he does not try to parse. Then keeps his nose to the ice-cream bowl for the next ten minutes.
------------------
Re: FILL - Going once, going twice... (3a/3)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-18 11:41 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL - Going once, going twice... (3a/3)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-18 11:58 pm (UTC)(link)FILL - Going once, going twice... (3b/3)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-19 12:22 am (UTC)(link)Newt, a moving target who can Apparate and Disapparate within a two-foot radius, loves dancing with a passion. He side-slips past Tina on their second turn of the room and wonders at her baffled face, but she waves back readily, and Newt lets the joy spread on his.
Dancing is like riding Artemis at dawn, when there’s nothing but speed and the sun, and the strong wind at his back, tightening his hold to swing him round a corner, safe and anchored.
----------------------------
"It’s good to see New York back in one piece," Newt says. They’re sitting on MACUSA’s roof, sharing a warming spell and a cup of late-night coffee. ("Elevenses": Percival, with half a smirk at his staple diet.)
"I don’t know if I’m sad or glad I missed that." Percival raises his chin, his face upturned to the sky. "I know that I missed these."
The Dragon is right above MACUSA: Newt greets it like an old friend. "Ashwinder-bright," he says. "Did I tell you about the eggs?"
"Yes." Percival leans back against a chimney pot, not caring if his black tails end up sooty. Newt’s coat already sports a few smudges, as per usual. "Tell me again."
And so Newt tells him of the eggs in his case, how Frank wrapped them in their own microclimate before he left, leaving it to Dougal to foresee the birthdate. "They’re so, oh, so pure and incandescent and restful, Percival. As if they had no idea of the light they give. If you get my drift, I’m not very good at –"
"Yes," Percival says quietly. "I think I do see it."
-----------------------
The floor is a battlefield when they return. Most of the guests have vanished, but the remaining couples spin and totter with gusto, including Jacob and Queenie. Newt thinks he can make out Todd’s legs sticking out from under the platform dais.
"I should see you safely home," Percival says after Newt has yawned three times in succession. "Is it all right if I Side Along you? Or, if you want another never-before taste of America, my De Dion-Boutton is at the door."
Newt chooses the De Dion-Boutton on the safe assumption that it will provide the longest way home.
Percival is in fact reluctant to fly it on a Saturday night, when the crowds are out and the Broadway lights an additional hazard. They progress in starts and fits – Percival is still getting the hang of no-maj driving – then, upon his releasing the hand brake, in smooth, companionable silence. The longest way is still too short for Newt, closing his eyes so that peace can reach out to memory...
…unless decided otherwise by both parties
He opens them to a gust of night air from his open car door.
"Is this the right place?" Percival is looking at his little house, a relic of Greenwitch Village’s early days, before the condos took over.
"Yes. Yes, I…" Newt disentangles himself from the car seat; feels the familiar tug and give of the wards. "I’ve had a wonderful evening, Percival."
"The feeling is mutual." Percival takes his offered hand, takes a breath. "I should leave you to your rest."
Newt’s next words do what they always do: blurt their way out of his unlatched mouth, eager on escape, when there is a bright new perspective within reach. "Would you like to come in and see my eggs?"
Percival’s puff of laughter is all right, if unexpected: kind, a gift of breath and warmth to the air between them.
"This must be the most pure-hearted innuendo…" Percival checks himself. "Yes. Where are my manners? With very great pleasure, Newt. If, if this is what you want."
"Yes. Oh god, yes." Newt takes a step back, hears the door click softly open in his back. "Going once…"
A light kiss to his hand. The doorway awaits them.
"Going twice…" Percival turns his hand over, presses his lips to the long lifeline.
"Gone," Newt tells the kiss, and lets the door shut them both safely home.
FILL - cleaned-up version on AO3
(Anonymous) 2017-01-19 12:57 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL - cleaned-up version on AO3
(Anonymous) 2017-01-19 03:31 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL - cleaned-up version on AO3
(Anonymous) 2017-01-19 06:40 am (UTC)(link)