#(or well off screen Gramander

[aethelar]

Hey i just had the idea of daddy percival. Not sure whether you have done this before with your mummy newt... Anyways overprotective and caring percival. they could take credence with them and he becomes part of their family. And percy is so sorry for that boy how could grindelwald dare to use and hurt him hiding himself behind his face. And he cares so much for him and credence loves it until at one point it's just a bit too much and yes percy that boy is 23 and he can go out after midnight.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Dad. C’mon. Seriously.”

“Do you have any idea - any idea - what could happen to you? You could get robbed, kidnapped, you could be -”

“Held at wandpoint and marched into a pocket dimension from which the only way to escape is to get eaten by a leviathon and ride out in its stomach, I know Dad but have you considered that I might not?”

Graves glared. The wine glass in his hands squeaked in protest at quite how viciously he was drying it. Credence, elbow deep in frothy washing up water, glared back.

“You forget who your mother is,” Graves said finally. Credence winced, because, fair. “We spent the better part of a week in that stomach and I wouldn’t wish the experience on my worst enemy let alone my only son.”

“It still might not happen to me,” Credence felt the need to point out, trying to push down the warm-fuzzy that rose every time Graves called him his son. He was a grown man, damnit, he was attempting to assert his independence.

“No, but what if you ended up in something worse, hm? No one to get you out of it because you went marching off with only your own damn self to look out for you - “

“Or,” Credence snapped, all but throwing the next plate in the drying rack and coming perilously close to sending the whole thing clattering to the floor, “Or I could go out with my friends and spend a nice normal evening and call you for a lift when the party ends and actually be happy for once, did you ever consider that possibility?”

Graves’ brows lowered and his jaw set and Credence felt like screaming because he knew that look, he fucking knew that look. Any chance of a reasonable conversation spiralled down the drain the moment that look entered the scene and nothing, not a single shitty thing about that look was fair.

“What’s the strongest shield charm your friends can cast?” Graves asked, voice low and calm.

“Dad - “

“How many,” Graves cut across, “How many of your friends can apparate while drunk, high, or mortally wounded?”

“Dad, please, that’s not - “

“Which of your friends could stand up to an ambush attack from an armed and dangerous dark wizard?”

“I could, ok?” Credence spun round, uncaring of the soapy water that slopped down his shirt as he did so. “I’m not a helpless little kid Dad, I’m not going to stand back and just let people attack me, if they attack me which they won’t because it’s just. one. night. out!”

For a long moment they stood there, staring - glaring - at each other across the draining board, the only sound the faint popping of the bubbles in the sink and the quiet drip drip drip of water from the tap.

Finally Graves let his glare soften into something fond and sad and far too old to belong to Credence’s over-dramatic, over-protective Dad. He blinked, taken aback, as Graves turned in silence and put the wineglass in the cupboard with the others.

“Dad?” he asked softly, feeling wrong-footed and not sure why.

“That’s what I thought,” Graves said, almost to himself as much as to Credence. He closed the cupboard but left his hand on the door, his eyes seeing something long past in the pale wood grain. “I thought I wasn’t helpless, I thought I’d be fine if ever anyone attacked me - not that I thought anyone would.” He blinked slowly, voice low and quiet as the memory resurfaced. “As you say, it was just one night out.”

Credence swallowed, because that, that is why he hated the look. What could he say? What the hell could he say? He knew how much Grindelwald messed his Dad up, he knew that his Dad still had nightmares about being taken, still had nightmares about Credence being a target, or his Mum, or the creatures or any of them. He couldn’t exactly say he didn’t care because he did, and those times when his Dad forgot where he was, forgot that his family were safe and started raising shields and looking round for enemies that were defeated years ago -

Credence knew that the rest of the world may have moved on, but there was a large part of Graves still stuck in a time when he wasn’t careful enough and it nearly cost him everything.

But at the same time, Credence was twenty three. He couldn’t live his entire life with his Dad hovering over him, ready to apparate him to a hospital the moment he got a papercut.. Much as he loved his Dad, much as he understood his Dad, he needed some chance to be independent or he’d go mad.

“Dad,” he finally said, his voice rough and dangerously close to tears. “Dad, it won’t happen.”

Graves gave a disbelieving snort, still facing the cupboard with his back to his son and his eyes closed. “You can’t promise that,” he said lowly.

“No, but I can take Swoop. And - and Pickett, and Susie, if I bribe her.”

Graves shook himself back to the present and glanced over his shoulder. He saw Credence, standing with his shirtsleeves rolled up and soap bubbles on his hands, his little boy with his a hair a mess because he refused ever to let them cut it and his mismatched socks - but, also, a man with broad shoulders and a determined stance, Graves’ immovable shields and Newt’s tricky spells combined with Credence’s unique brand of strength.

He took a breath. There were very few things, he reminded himself, that could overpower an obscurial. He forced himself to raise an eyebrow and quirk his lips into a smile.

“A nightmare yoyo, a demented twig an unreasonably protective occamy?” he asked, deliberately light. “What exactly are you planning to get up to at this party of yours?”

Credence’s face brightened. “Nothing,” he said, speaking too fast and tripping over his words. “Nothing, I swear, it’s just friends - I won’t even drink anything I promise, not a single drop.”

“Oh, screw that,” Graves dismissed, flapping a hand and frowning. “It’s a party, you’re going to drink. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Credence laughed, leaning forwards in delight. “You mean it?” he asked breathlessly.

Graves braced himself. His little boy, all grown up, and still an overgrown puppy at heart. “I mean it,” he said, and flicked out a levitation spell to catch the frying pan Credence knocked onto the floor. “And don’t bother Susie, Newt says she’s broody at the moment. Swoop and Pickett are fine, but only if they want to go.”

“Swoop and Pickett, yes, one hundred percent,” Credence babbled, already halfway to the door. “I’ll ask them now, I’ll -” he stopped and gave Graves a heart-stoppingly wide smile. “Thanks, Dad. I mean it.”

Graves allowed himself a full four seconds to smile back before he waved Credence off. “Scram, kid. I’ll finish the dishes.”

He watched after Credence’s retreating back and he knew, he knew he wasn’t great at this whole father thing but he thought, maybe, sometimes he did ok.

I promised I’d keep you safe, he thought despairingly to himself, then shook his head chidingly and turned back to the sink. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, old man.

Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

[funkzpiel]

Happy to Help | Gramander (?)

Newt remembered talking to his brother through the two-way mirror they shared.

“I’m worried about him, Newt. He’s taken the whole Grindelwald affair quite personally - as he has every right to do… But you know what that kind of darkness can do to a man… Just look after him for me, please? I’d come if the ministry’d let me, but I have strict orders to remain in London,” he said, a drawn look on his face. Antsy and unhappy with the orders. Worried. “A man shouldn’t have to face that darkness alone, and knowing Percival, he’s hellbent on trying.”

“He doesn’t know me, brother. I’m not sure what you’d like for me to--”

“Help him. He doesn’t have to know you for you to help him,” and the sentence was pointed, knowing, and Newt sighed.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Newt stayed in New York not so much because he was offered, but because he was needed. Grindelwald’s agents had seen fit to begin using the release of magical creatures onto muggle populations in an effort of revealing them all -- something Newt was uniquely trained to handle. The Madam President had not seemed keen on the idea, but her director of magical security would not be swayed from the plan. He would not put his men in the path of potentially dangerous creatures if they had a more than capable expert available to guide them in the field.

Newt is more than happy to stay. To help the aurors just as much as to ensure the safety of the creatures being used so cruelly -- but also because of his brother’s request.

Help him.

And oh, how the director needed help.

His subordinates were shockingly blind to the man’s plight, just thrilled to have their leader back and stronger than ever. They saw his wandsmanship as a sign that he was capable and his keen intellect a sign that he was back in every way that counted. He showed no sign of slowing down at work. He was quick, he was capable, he was reactive -- everything a leader should be. He guided them. Led them on successful investigations. On paper and in the field, the man was back as though he had never been kidnapped a day in his life.

But to anyone who cared to look -- who knew to look -- he was drowning. Every day the circles beneath his eyes bruised a little more. His hands began to tremble when he looked through files, he swayed when he thought no one was looking. He’d stand in his office -- hand braced on his desk -- and stay that way in silence for extended bouts of time as though he had lost track of what he was doing.

It was one such day when Newt had caught the director tottering drowsily alone back to his office after a raid that Newt finally acted. He followed him to his office -- quiet on his feet not on purpose, but rather out of habit -- and slipped the doors closed behind him. At their soft snick, Graves jerked up to look at him, surprised.

“Mr. Scamander, I-- is everything alright? Is this about the mission?”

“No, sir, everything is fine. I just wanted to check on you. See if you needed anything.”

“Oh,” Graves sighed, obviously relieved as he melted somewhat back into his chair, sure the conversation were about to end. “I’m quite alright. Thank you for asking, Mr. Scamander. Feel free to head home and recover. We still have a lot ahead of us.”

“Indeed we do. That’s actually why I’m here. You haven’t been sleeping, and like you said, we still have a lot ahead of us. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

Graves blinked, genuinely unused to having his ruse called out, only to lean forward a little -- too exhausted to defend himself, it would seem.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I have a number of tonics and potions--”

Graves immediately shook his head and stood, hands braced on his desk, “No, I don’t take anything that might inhibit my ability to react to the world around me, Mr. Scamander. No drugs, no potions. It’s nothing personal. I just can’t afford it.”

The words not again felt unspoken.

Newt nodded.

“I had thought as much. That’s why I wanted to offer something else.”

Graves quirked a brow at that.

“And that is?”

“Hypnotism.”

Graves relaxed, a soft if pitying smile on his face, and chuckled a soft sigh.

“That’s rather generous of you to offer, Mr. Scamander, but I’m afraid I don’t believe in the practice. That would complicate your process, wouldn’t it?”

Newt shrugged, eyes trailing around the room.

“It’s not quite like the process I’m sure you’re thinking about. I’ve come across a lot of practices in my travels. It will work, if you’d like to try.”

Graves blinked.

“You’re quite confident.”

“I’ve experienced it first hand, both as the giver and the receiver.”

The director nodded graciously at that, not altogether convinced but willing to listen it would seem.

“And what can I expect, if I accept?”

Newt held his hands out innocently and kept his eyes demur, low on Graves’ cheek.

“Relaxation. It merely helps one calm their mind and relax; does wonders with falling asleep.”

Graves stared at him for a long moment, considering it.

“And that’s it? It just helps with winding down, so to speak.”

Newt nodded, eyes on the space where Graves’ hands braced the desk -- shaking.

“I… I suppose it doesn’t hurt to try,” Graves uttered softly as he sank back into his chair, quick to hide his hands on his thighs to hide their trembling. “What do we have to do?”

“All you have to do,” Newt said softly, walking forward to sit in the seat opposite Graves’ desk, “Is listen to me.”

Graves made a short, amused little sound but nodded all the same.

“Simple enough.”

“Before we start, do you mind if I…” Newt trailed off as he slowly pulled two glimmering metal balls from his coat, gaze averted. They tinkled and hummed oddly as he did until finally they stilled in his outstretched hand and fell silent. “Twirl these? They tend to help. With the anxiety. My brother sent them to me.”

His gaze flickered up to catch the keen look Graves gave the two orbs, only for the man to soften at his explanation.

“Of course,” he said softly, and Newt nodded gratefully.

He began to spin the orbs in his hand, slow and methodical, and in the room a soft and steady hum began to rise -- like wind chimes tinkling in the wind, laced with the beating of hummingbird wings or the gentle sound of a fingers pulling songs from the rim of a finely made glass.

“I’d like for you to close your eyes and think of a relaxing place for me, Mr. Graves.”

In front of him, Graves gave him a slightly exasperated look before relenting. He closed his eyes and said, “Alright.”

“Describe it for me, if you would.”

Graves grunted.

“I’m at my family’s lake house.”

Newt chuckled and when Graves’ opened his eyes, he stilled his hands. Graves fidgeted in the silence.

“Describe it for me, Mr. Graves. If it’s your favorite place, surely you can do better. Tell me what it’s like.”

Graves sighed, and when it was obvious that Newt expected him to try again, closed his eyes.

Immediately, Newt began to spin the orbs again and the humming rose once more.

“It’s a quaint little cabin, unlike most of my family’s properties.”

“What’s your favorite place in the cabin?”

“The porch. It’s screened in, carpeted. Has a nice couch that looks over the lake.”

“Describe what you can see from the couch.”

“Mist. There’s mist on the lake.”

“A thick mist?”

“Yes.”

“Is it menacing or soothing?”

Graves paused.

“I don’t know… but I like to watch it. It’s beautiful.”

“What are you doing while you’re watching?”

“I have a cup of strong black coffee in my hands. It’s burning the calluses on my palms. It’s… nice.”

“What time is it?”

“Before dawn. Everything’s in muted grays -- the way things get before the sun. Not quite night, but not quite day.”

“How do you feel?”

“I… nice. At peace.”

“Are you worried, looking at the lake?”

“No.”

“How does your body feel?”

Graves hummed and it nearly matched the pitch of the orbs’ song.

“Soft. Loose.”

“Are you sinking into the couch?”

“A bit, yea.”

And as he said it, Newt saw the man relax further into his office chair until he was quite nearly slouching, his immaculate clothing scrunching cutely.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I don’t sleep well much.”

“So are you tired?”

“...a bit, yes.”

“Do you feel heavy? Do your limbs feel like packed sand?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sinking into the couch?”

“Hmmm.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it? It’s your favorite couch.”

“It is.”

“Soft, plush. You prefer to sleep here instead of the bed sometimes.”

“Hmmm.”

His hum of affirmation was even closer to the pitch of the orbs now.

“You’re rather tired after such a long night, aren’t you? Your eyes are tired from all those reports. They’re heavy. Heavy like the sand in his limbs.”

“Heavy,” Graves murmured softly, muzzy and mumbled.

“You’re leaning into the couch more now. You’re sinking. SInking into the feeling. How are you feeling?”

“Tired... Soft... Heavy...”

“Of course. You want to sink in further, don’t you? You want to feel better.”

“I do.”

“You’re relaxing more now. Releasing the tension in your arms and shoulders, in your thighs and calves. It’s nice, isn’t it? To finally relax.”

“Hmmm.”

“Are you feeling relaxed now?”

“Hmmm.”

“Are you listening?”

“Hmmm.”

“Good. Because I need you to listen closely. You’ll listen closely for me, won’t you?”

“Hmmm.”

“From now on, when you’re feeling tired or you haven’t slept. Or you’ve been injured or sick or aren’t taking care of yourself, I want you to come to me. Do you understand?”

“Hmmm.”

“Who will you go to?”

For the first time since falling so deep, Graves hesitated. A look of discomfort crossed his face, only to smooth over quickly.

“...You.”

“If you’re not sleeping, who will you go to?”

“You.”

“If you’re sick, who will you go to?”

“You.”

“If you’re overwhelmed or injured, who will you go to?”

“You.”

“You’re a private man. You hide your pains from your aurors and your friends. But you need someone to go to, you understand that, don’t you?”

“Hmmm.”

“Who will you go to?”

“You.”

“Do you promise?”

“Hmmm.”

“Good. You’re feeling better now, aren’t you? More relaxed. Ready for bed. Right?”

“Hmmm.”

“Good. When I stop spinning these orbs, you’re going to wake up. Okay?”

“Hmmm.”

“Good boy,” he praised, let the warmth of the statement settle in the man’s mind, and then slowly, Newt eased the balls in his hands until they stilled and with them, the humming. Newt watched patiently as in front him, the director’s lashes slowly fluttered. They opened slowly and as they did, he remained thoroughly slouched in his seat.

“Your lake house sounds quite lovely, Mr. Graves. You’re lucky to have it.”

Graves jerked up like a man who had realized he had been dozing. He looked up at Newt, cheeks pink, and coughed. “Apologies, Mr. Scamander. I didn’t mean to--”

“Don’t apologize, Sir. Relaxing you for a good night’s sleep had been the point, hadn’t it? Perhaps you should go ahead and rest on your couch while you’re feeling so relaxed. I’ll make sure no one enters your office.”

Graves opened his mouth to protest, only for his lips to fall slack for a very brief moment. Then: “Yes. That sounds nice. Thank you, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt smiled.

“Happy to help.”

[gramanderlove]

Gramander ;)))

Okay so omg I took so long to get back to you on this I apologize 8’333 So yeah this is in reference to a post I reblogged like two weeks ago that asked about ship headcanons :D I put everything below a cut because it’s kinda long :’33333 Thank you for asking me!!! :DDD

- Who hogs the duvet → Honestly I think they’d both be pretty good at sharing it, though I think Newt definitely takes most of it when he’s deep in dreamland and is attempting to make a nest from the sheets ;3

- Who texts/rings to check how their day is going → Newt the most!!! uwu but Percy definitely does it sometimes too~~

- Who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts → these boys…. probably have no idea what to get each other and each is the worst when it comes to gifs XD tbh I think they’re equally creatively bad when it comes down to it haha, though they each try in their own way

- Who gets up first in the morning → they’re both probably way early risers! owo I kinda want to say that Percy gets up at the ass crack o’ dawn because he’s just unreasonable, but then Newt’s probably up at all hours tending to his creatures that need him ;w; but I think that Newt at least sleeps a decent amount

- Who suggests new things in bed → UMMM I think they both do that in equal amounts personally :3

- Who cries at movies → Newt!!!! ;wwwww; this boy has a heart of steel when he needs to but when it comes to movies he’s the absolute biggest softie. he loves movies so much, I know this for a fact! Newt’s always been fascinated with movies. he loves them so much. like sure wizard images have been moving since forever but there’s something special about going into a movie theater and watching the action unfold on screen. I think the first “talkie” opened in 1927 or something so up to FB they were silent films, which Newt loved. but movies with sound was, he would probably say, magical. Newt probably drags Percy to the movies every second week or more if he can, and he adores watching the actors and actresses laugh and cry and fall in love. he especially loves Charlie Chaplin though; he loves the physical comedy of it, and even later when movies are mostly talkies, he still appreciates chaplin’s classical approach to movie making. (cue lots of movie theater cuddles with Percy; Percy probably pays more attention to Newt than the movies though ;)

- Who gives unprompted massages → I kinda want to say Percy?? I feel like he’s in tune with when Newt is stressed or anxious and wants to help him get through that. I feel like Newt might want to help Percy in other ways, or offering something like a massage is a bit foreign to him. he’s a little nervous when it comes to things like quite I think, though I think as he gets to know Percy more and they get older he’s more used to Percy’s moods and gives him massages a lot more often :)

- Who fusses over the other when they’re sick → Newt the most! ;A; he would definitely be a fussy mum when it came to illness, offering Percy everything and anything he wants as he desperately tries to make him feel better. though he’s very good handling animal illnesses, when it comes to Percy he gets a bit flustered until he can calm down enough to actually help get his fever down and such :’) if Newt was ill though I think Percy would try to do his best, asking Newt if he wanted anything and getting anything he wants like a dutiful boyfriend

- Who gets jealous easiest → Percy by a long shot holy shit >___> Newt’s kind of oblivious to flirting so even when people flirt with Percy (which happens rarely; usually it’s a young waitress who doesn’t know him personally… ) he just kind of gets an uncomfortable upset feeling in his stomach, though he isn’t certain why. but when people flirt with Newt (which happens a lot…. from a lot of people who should know better!!) though he’s oblivious to the romantic nature of their attentions and is always super nice to people who are nice to him! but this makes Percy pretty damn jealous lmao. he wants to keep Newt all to himself, though he does make himself ease off when it comes to people like tina, jacob, queenie, etc., because they never flirt with Newt and he knows they just want his friendship

- Who has the most embarrassing taste in music → do I even have to say it? ;) Newt loves music but he has the most odd collection of records Percy’s ever seen, the one time he perused the dusty box hidden by an extension charm under Newt’s worktable in his shed…

- Who collects something unusual → well I would say Newt in general aha 8’)) but Percy probably has a collection of something unusual hidden away ;) who knows what it is….

- Who takes the longest to get ready → prooooobably Percy lollll. Newt’s probably ready quickly but that’s just because he isn’t used to dressing up when there’s a need haha ^^ if they’re going to something fancy… so Percy has to slow him down and help him get into the proper clothes. and just in general, Newt doesn’t really see the need to make himself look “pretty” so he’s ready almost as soon as he’s thrown on his clothes and ran a hand through his hair. he does have a tin of mints hidden away in his jacket though :’3 so yeah Percy’s probably the one doing his hair and putting on a bit of cologne and making sure everything he’s wearing is pristine. you can’t walk around wearing just anything as director of magical security, after all.

- Who is the most tidy and organised → Percy of course! though Newt does have his own system that works perfectly well for him ;)

- Who gets most excited about the holidays → Newt :3 though sometimes he forgets their happening haha. I feel like Percy keeps track of them out of a sense of duty, but once Newt comes along he learns to enjoy them more

- Who is the big spoon/little spoon → Percy wants to be the big spoon most of the time and Newt’s perfectly happy with that, but sometimes Newt is the big spoon and Percy realizes just how much he likes it

- Who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports → Percy by a long shot! Newt isn’t very competitive at all. when people are trying to be competitive with him he usually doesn’t recognize it for what it is D: Percy’s professional but sometimes his ego gets the better of him and he’s a bit more aggressive towards his fellow aurors than he’d like to admit… if Newt sees this he tries to get Percy to back off a little bit, if he can…

- Who starts the most arguments → Newt probably unintentionally?? I feel like a lot of things Newt does might frustrate Percy in the beginning and his temper gets the better of him just a little bit, before reason takes over and he calms down. I can’t see Newt getting into an argument with anyone unless they were a truly awful person.

- Who suggests that they buy a pet → well I mean…. 8’) but you *know* that Newt’s the one who’s constantly trying to save more creatures, much to Percy’s distress >w>

- What couple traditions they have → Okay I have no idea about this one aha >.>

- What tv shows they watch together → I Love Lucy later??? What’s My Line? I have no idea omg probably not very many or none at all XD

- What other couple they hang out with → Queenie and Jacob, Tina and whoever she settles down with (maybe nobody?? who knows… >w>)

- How they spend time together as a couple → Taking care of Newt’s creatures, cuddling, helping MACUSA and the Ministry of Magic, travelling~~~

- Who made the first move → I have headcanons for either so ;))

- Who brings flowers home → Percy!!!! He very much brings flowers home :)

- Who is the best cook → Maybe Newt?? But just by a little??? Hahaha they are both pretty horrible about it general, so ;)