fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme | Prompt Post #1

Or, in which taking over the life of a high level government official is not nearly as easy as it seems and what the hell does Act1895 Article 5 Subsection B1312 have to do with anything and why does it need to be in triplicate?!?!

Seconded!

Thirded! Pretty Please!

I'm imagining Grindelwald stumbling into Graves' house in a daze after a looooong day of paperwork at MACUSA and dragging poor Graves out of his imprisonment in a closet or something. Graves is expecting another round of torture, but Grindelwald is just like "I will heal you and feed you and let you sleep in a bed and not torture you for a whole 24 hours if you will just tell me what this Merlin-damned form is for!"

And Graves senses an opportunity and agrees, and so his imprisonment turns out to be not that bad because Grindelwald is terrible at paperwork and needs Graves to do all of it for him. And Graves might not be able to escape (he tried that and it did. not. end. well.) but at least he can keep on top of his department and make sure criminals keep getting caught and that Grindelwald doesn't screw with his people (because Grindelwald wouldn't care that Auror Jameson needs Form X3-217 filled out to get his paternity leave, but Graves definitely does care).

And Graves takes every opportunity he can to leave subtle hints in the paperwork that he's being held prisoner and Grindelwald is impersonating him and someone should do something about it! But of course no-one is as anal-retentive as him about paperwork, so no-one actually notices.

Graves is not pleased about this when he is finally rescued and gets his revenge by putting his staff through a grueling week of remedial administrative training.

(... Well, that was meant to be a comment and turned into a mini-fill. I may have to expand this into a real fic now...)

Yes, want.

OP LOVES THIS

This, this, this! Would read!

I saw this prompt and my fingers twitched... whoops? I've never really written a fic before but... lol I tried:
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His plan was perfect; the capture and replacement of Percival Graves’ was a thing of beauty. The man himself made it easy. He lacked the meaningful interactions with his colleagues and had rarely contacted family or the few friends he possessed. It was perfect. He had thought through all of the minute details and all the steps in his cunning plan went flawlessly. Except… he had forgotten one, tiny, detail. He didn’t account for (with much self-loathing and many a ‘I made a huge mistake’s’) the amount of work, more specifically, paperwork that was involved with the position. He was quickly realising that he actually had to do this job correctly, lest someone would become suspicious in the early stages of this (not so) brilliant plan.

It was with great trepidation, and admittedly some regret, that he approached Graves’ – his – desk (and the visibly growing mound of paperwork) for the unforeseeable future. As he settled into the plush leather of the seat, he removed the form with the most tick boxes and the least writing on it, ushering a silent prayer that this whole affair was a lot simpler than it looked… What am I actually looking at here?

He read and reread the form once, twice, thrice and more but none of the terms made sense, he didn’t know what this form was even for! Notice of Contravention? Alright, a form for ‘covert diligence and no-maj obliviations’. That much Grindelwald understood but… all these numbers… what do they mean? ‘What the bloody hell does 81406.01 refer to? What does 51779.41 have to do with anything?! You'd think that the forms with tickboxes would be a easier to deal with... apparently not.

As the pile grew, he felt as if he was shrinking, he hadn’t felt this way since his childhood. It was wrought with perilous escapades, which, more often than not involved his enraged mother catching him red-handed with the cookie jar for the umpteenth time that week. He shakes his head slightly, if his mother could see him now, he had no doubt she would be brandishing that evil wooden spoon or one of her comfy slippers (which was decidedly not comfy when it was repeatedly smacked against one’s backside, but, that is neither here nor there).

He spends another painful hour trying to look productive before he just can’t take it anymore. He stands a little shakily and briskly slams open his office door. He aggressively makes his way to where his prisoner is being held. The murderous aura he exumes doesn't need to be fakes, nor does he need to feign the stormy expression that crosses his face. A few of the newer recruits to the division bodily throw themselves into empty offices, under desks, one even manages to look as if they're trying to become one with a corridor pillar (No, Jerry, stop shimmying up the damn thing! For god's sakes don't be obscene!).The rest of the aurors scatter as if the fires of hell were decending upon them, trying to make themselves as scarce as possible. Grindelwald pays them no mind, his thoughts elsewhere, mostly on the increasing dread of returning to that godforsaken desk he's inadvertantly shackled himself to.

---

To be continued...? Assuming I didn't do too terribly. hahahaa...

This was awesome, anon! I'm looking forward to more! I'm not the op tho.

Percival Graves, the original, (thank you very much, said man’s thoughts supply), expected a lot of things when his imposter stumbled slightly into his holding cell. He had mentally prepared himself for a number of things; torture, interrogation, some threats here and there. This… this he was not expecting. His dishevelled look-alike stormed up to him and shoved a fistful of… were those forms? Before he could ask as much his doppelganger beat him to it, ‘what the fuck does this do and why must I complete it in triplicate!? I will heal you, feed you, leave you be for the next twenty-four hours if you just tell me what all of these bloody forms are bloody for,’ Grindelwald waved the crumpled bunch in front of him.

Graves sat in shock, no amount of mental preparation could have helped him with the current situation at hand. Despite the potential danger, despite the pain that could follow, and despite the fact these would probably be his famous last words, he uttered them anyway, ‘what? Are you telling me you took my place without considering what you’d have to do… Mercy Louis, did you actually think this through?’ He’s sure he should feel insulted that he was bested by this man, maybe a little worried about this rare occurrence of personal loose lipped-ness, but what the hell was this situation even?

The imposter gave him a rather dangerous look, which admittedly was a little disconcerting to see from his perspective but… well, there’s not much you can do against anti-magical wards and bonds. They held eachother’s gaze until his double sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his unoccupied hand, ‘your sass is not appreciated, Graves, but no… I may have not have planned this as well as I would like to admit,’ for a moment Graves would have dared to say the slightly red tint that graced the face of his unwanted twin was a sign of embarrassment, possibly a dash anger.

He’s not sure whether this was bravery or foolishness on his part but his mental filters seem to have failed him in this moment because again, what the hell, was this actually happening? He responded with the same level of ‘sass’, ‘No, really,’ Graves voice dripped with dry sarcasm. Grindelwald looked as if he was about to skip the ‘pleasantries’ and just go straight to cursing him.

Graves, ever pragmatic and sensing an opportunity, released a calculated sigh, ‘for starters that form, the blue one, is a request for paternity leave, the green one behind it is an obliviation request form, that oddly shaped one is a wand permit -’ he was interrupted by Grindelwald snapping, ‘but what do the terms mean, what the hell are these numbers in reference to!?’

Percival Graves was a calm man, in general, but he did not have the patience to teach someone (nevermind the fact that he is the dark lord) how to do paperwork that took him years of auror training and experience to turn paperwork management into a form of art. It was another calculated move and admittedly some mild panic (you will not mess up my system damn it, I don’t care who you are) that he practically yelled, ‘Merlin’s beard, release me now and give me those forms, I’m not explaining ten plus volumes of law to you, Mercy Louis,’ Grindelwald did so in equal parts relief and wariness.

The anti-magical hexes were still in place but Graves now had the freedom of movement to complete all the paperwork to ensure that his department didn’t burn to the ground. At least, with this, the department was more likely go shit from a random attack from a magical creature (not that it would but still) than the backlog of paperwork that Grindelwald would have likely produced. Now Jameson can have some time off to spend with his newborn, and this wand permit… actually this wasn’t supposed to be here, but he’ll make the exception for, ‘Newton Artemis Fido Scamander’… what were his parents thinking?

He may or may not have also taken this opportunity to embed secret messages into every. Single. Form... what a whoopsie on Grindelwald’s part.

(I continued it anyway XD)

Prompt Post #1

Humor. GrindelGraves VS Paperwork

Re: Humor. GrindelGraves VS Paperwork

Re: Humor. GrindelGraves VS Paperwork

Re: Humor. GrindelGraves VS Paperwork

Re: Humor. GrindelGraves VS Paperwork

Re: Humor. GrindelGraves VS Paperwork

Re: Humor. GrindelGraves VS Paperwork

Re: Humor. GrindelGraves VS Paperwork [fill] [p1/?]

Re: Humor. GrindelGraves VS Paperwork [fill] [p1/?]

Re: Humor. GrindelGraves VS Paperwork [fill] [p2/?]