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.

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Part of how Grindelwald tortured Graves was removing all his good memories. There weren't all that many to be honest but now he has none. After he is finally rescued Newt is the first person to give him a happy memory and he just breaks down. Newt fumbles his way through comforting him and eventually realizes whats going on and becomes determined to give Percival as many happy memories as possible. Bottom!Graves if there is sex, please. And since all happy memories are gone, if he has any memories of having sex they are obviously horrible.

+The creatures are super protective of their mummy's mate and try to help Newt make him happy.
+Really gentle, loving sex with Newt holding Percival.

YES

I really like this and I love your implication of his sexual memories too. It doesn't even have to mean he's had a terrible time in bed, think of all those awkward first times. His only memory of having sex with someone could be him accidentally kneeing them or when he banged his head against the wall and almost gave himself a concussion during a blow job.

There's just so much to love in this prompt!

OP here, this comment makes me happy :)

So I love this prompt and it's been buzzing around my head for a few days now. I don't have much of an outline but I think I have a start. What do you think?

*****

The worst part isn't the holes in his memory.

When he thinks about it, he can work out most of what he's missing. Not all of it but most.

He can't remember his promotion to Director. He can remember the late nights and early mornings as he worked his way up the ranks. He can remember the never-ending paperwork that came with being the Director and he can remember sitting alone in his office, missing the camaraderie of having a partner and being just a simple Auror. So at some point, he was promoted.

He can't remember enjoying sex. He can remember being naked in bed with a very attractive man before Percival rolled the wrong way and accidentally kneed him in the groin. He doesn't remember the man's name or if he even saw him again but he does remember the sharp humiliation as the man apparated away shortly after that. He can remember Terrence kneeling in front of him and swallowing him down to the root just before Percival threw his head back and banged his skull against the wall hard enough to make his ears ring. Neither of those times feels like first times so presumably, he had other encounters too.

He can remember Terrence.

Not a lot of Terrence. He can remember waiting for him for twenty minutes in a restaurant because Terrence was running late and he remembers how he kept clutching at the ring box in his pocket as if it would disappear at any moment but he can't remember the rest of that night. He can remember calmly and rationally discussing the job opportunity in Chicago that Terrence would be a fool to pass up and how neither of them wanted a long distance relationship. He can remember insisting Terrence take the gold leafed books on ancient curses with him so that they didn't break up the set but he doesn't remember how those books ended up on his bookshelves in the first place.

He can remember practising how to tell his parents that he didn't just prefer men but he had absolutely no interest in women at all. He can't remember how telling them went but as he remembers telling them of his broken engagement a few short years later, he assumes it went well. He can remember his parents funeral and the eulogy he gave as their only child. He can't remember any of the fond times he referenced but he knows he wouldn't dishonour them by lying at their funeral so those events must have happened.

He can remember the feel of a coming home to a lonely apartment and the cold acknowledgement of wards keyed only to him. He can remember night after night of falling asleep alone and the monotony of eating breakfast alone.

The worst part isn't the holes in his memory. The worst part is how few holes there are.

this is beautiful and so sad. I nearly cried at it, but it was lovely. Excellent work

As the OP I think this is perfect and I hope it keeps buzzing around in your head so you continue it! And that last line hit me right in the feels.

(I read it three times already)

Writing Graves' train of thought while he's being tortured is incredibly depressing and I couldn't even get into anything explicit. I'm going to make myself a hot chocolate now before starting on the next part. Luckily, the next part has Newt but Percival is still going to be very depressed.

In other news, the fact that I haven't written anything in years is showing.

@>-;--

Percival knows that his memory is not to be trusted. He’s an Auror. He’s listened to enough witness accounts to know that the suspect of a crime will be a tall man wearing a suspicious cloak with the hood drawn up and be a scantily clad young witch with short blonde hair depending on who you ask. Sometimes, the same witness will wildly contradict themselves and not seem to even notice it.

Memories are fiddly things at the best of times and he’s sat through enough lectures from angry Obliviators to know that the mind will try to fill in the gaps so he tries to concentrate on what he knows. Just the facts.

It’d been a Friday when it’d happened on his way home. He’d been last out the office as normal. He’d said goodnight to the few Aurors that staffed the office overnight and -

(Some of the Senior Aurors were heading off to a poker game. He heard them laughing as they passed his office door on their way out. He wasn’t invited. He’s never been invited. They’ve never wanted to…

Stop.

Stick to the facts.)

- He said good night and started to walk home. He preferred walking to apparating. It allowed him to clear his head from the days’ work. Let him leave his job behind before he got home and could relax.

(Walking let him avoid going home for that little bit longer. Let him pretend that he had a home instead of a cold and empty house. It’d always been like that, from the empty echoing halls of his family’s house to the distance of his dormmates in Ilvermony. He’d never had a ‘home’. Never felt happy…

Stop it.

That’s what Grindelwald wants. Just stick to the facts.)

He’d been close to his house when he’d been attacked from behind. He supposed it was a compliment that Grindelwald hadn’t wanted to risk duelling him but the truth was, it just made him burn that he’d been snuck up on. That he’d never gotten a chance to even try and fight back. When he’d woken up, he’d been chained to a wall, his own face smirking back at him. He’d still had his memories then. He’d still known that no matter what happened, his team would notice the imposter.

(They hadn’t noticed. They would never notice. They never cared. He’d sacrifice his life for them and they never even saw him.)

Days passed.

(Weeks passed.)

Grindelwald would keep coming back for information. Sometimes it was trivial, ‘how did Picquery and him meet?’, sometimes it was essential, ‘what are the codes for his office safe?’. He could fight him off most of the time, resist telling him things despite the pain but too much information slipped through, no matter how good his shields.

(‘Not a natural Occlumens,’ his tutor had said. ‘Must work harder to separate his emotions.’ And he was trying, he was but it was so hard.)

He concentrated on his duty. How important it was to keep his shields up and not speak, no matter how often the Cruciatus curse lit up his nerves. He had to keep everyone safe.

(His team. His department. Picquery. The other Heads, his colleagues. No one came, no one cared. Why did no one SEE?)

Weeks passed.

(Months?)

He lost track of time. It wasn’t important anymore. There was no schedule to keep and he couldn’t tell how often Grindelwald visited him in that dark, little cell anyway. Time no longer existed. There was nothing beyond his next breath, his next heartbeat and above all else, his duty.

(Only ever his duty. That was all there ever was.)

And then one day, Grindelwald appeared with a potion that tasted of dust and tears. The pain that followed had been mild, just a headache really. The bizarre feeling of losing his memories had been terrifying until Grindelwald had started gloating. When that lunatic had said that now he’d lost what he was fighting for, he’d no longer be able to resist, Percival had almost laughed. It’d been then that he’d known for certain that Grindelwald would lose.

He didn’t know how that the dark wizard could pose as him well enough to fool Aurors and still not understand him. He had never served the MACUSA for glory or the pleasure of it, but because it was his honour. His duty.

Grindelwald had been furious to find his shields as strong as ever. More curses than just the cruciatus had been used on him after that. He still couldn’t uncurl his legs and his lungs crackled with every breath. Even with the best Healers, he probably wouldn’t fully recover from this if he ever got out.

It didn’t matter.

(He didn’t matter.)

He knew his duty.

(There’d only ever been his duty.)

He’d die to protect the MACUSA and his people.

(He was going to die.)

OP - I understand why you need a break, that is heart wrenching. Wonderful, but heart wrenching. (Also, if you hadn't mentioned being out of practice I'd never have known, this is lovely)

This was wonderful! i really enjoyed reading it, but it is so painful, poor thing needs all the hugs. He's been through so much...

...stealing a person's happy memories is *exactly* what a Dementor does; did Grindelwald find a /potions/ equivalent of their effect?! They're regarded as /the/ punishment for the worst crimes imaginable; it only hammers in that what Graves is going through is /excruciating/ to the extreme.

...and unlike Dementors, where simple distance and/or a Patronus is enough to reverse the effect, he won't ever get those memories back.

AA - Yep, it was a potion someone was mucking about with way back when so they could get all the benefits of having dementors without actually having to deal with dementors. Which considering the effects on any guards near Azkaban, I'm assuming a lot of people have tried that.

It didn't quite work because it doesn't suppress anyone's magic and without the constant drain on happy thoughts, it's easy for a strong willed person to mostly brush it off even if they are more prone to severe depression afterwards. It is why I made Graves' character duty-driven. Honour and duty are not exactly happy thoughts, but they'll sustain people with nothing else left and with no hope of reward.

I don't think the potion origin will become relevant later on, but we'll see. I don't really have much of a plan.

cant wait to see more of this! amazing so far!

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Prompt Post #2

Newt/Original Graves - Making Memories

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Making Memories pt1/?

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Making Memories pt2/?

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