Now, do you think that Percival and/or Theseus has any tattoos?
Ooooh this is a great question my dear. It really depends on the fic/the setting for me I think, but I can def see them with tattoos? But now that I’m thinking about it:
I can totally see Theseus having at least one localizing charmed tattoo able to track down Newt’s specific life signature. Also we’re in the Wizarding World, so it does make sense if portraits have a life of their own tattoos have too, right? I can see Theseus going to a magical tattoo parlor as soon as Newt leaves home, when they’ve just fought harder and fiercer in their whole life and they’re both miserable and angry and sure the other will hate them forever, but still brothers. I can see him choosing something discrete, somewhere he can hide if he needs to during his secret missions/black-tie fundraiser events, like the hollow of his wrist. A small fox head, maybe, outlined in black ink - humming with a steady rhythm with each of Newt’s heartbeat, and prickling uneasily everytime something is very, deeply wrong and his lil brother is scared or hurting or desperate. In the beginning it feels strange, this kind of closeness; but it rapidly grows normal, comforting, the steady hum of Newt’s life pulsing against his wrist the quiet background noise of Theseus’s days.
When he meets Percival, he thinks of getting a twin tattoo - oh, he sure does. He thinks of it as he watche him sleep on their shared cot in the trenches, half-covered in dirt and half in bandages, as he listens to his laughter, as he hugs him tight before letting him slip through a discrete public Portkey and go back to NY. He talks about it with him, too, because there are very few things he wouldn’t talk with Percival about. His best friend simply smiles a tight smile and tells him he trusts his judgement.
In the end, Theseus doesn’t get a second tattoo. He knows how highly Percival values his indepence, his freedom, his self-sufficiency, and he respects those things too much to even take the risk of tainting them.
He regrets that decision, too. Deeply. Madly. He regrets it as he digs frantically through the spot of mud and rock Grindelwald has finally told them to look under, thinking of treacherous letters lovingly sheltered in his bookcase for months, scratching at his bare left wrist as if it’s somehow all its fault. Because if he had had the tattoo, he would have immediately known something was wrong, and now he’d know if Percival is still alive, and oh Scamander, Scamander, how could you have not seen?
When they find Percival, and the Healers let him hug him for exactly three point six seconds before wheeling him away with worried faces, Theseus stumbles away - winding his way through the city. He turns corners, and follows the scent of the sea, and finally finds the port, and in every port there’s at least a tattoo parlor giving goodbye marks and inked love tokens to hopeful sailors, and usually, in every tattoo parlor there’s at least one person knowing their away around magic. He’s right. He finds one, and tells him what he wants, and Theseus Scamander’s left wrist gets covered with the black-inked scorpion, tied to the life and blood of Percival Graves.
The first shot of feeling running up Theseus’s arm from the tattoo is shocking.It’s white noise, and horrible absense, and underneath it all a frantic thudding - the sound of a heart struggling against impossible odds, of a body trying to live despite itself. It’s so intense it’s almost enough to make him sick, but Theseus endures it, gladly. He endures it for days, brushing off Newt’s concerned questions and not fooling anyone. At least it’s a beat. At least it’s something - something still working and feeling in Percival’s chest. Till the thrumming gets better, slowly, marginally, and dark eyes finally open to stare dazedly at Theseus’s tear-stained, ashen face.
“Theseus,” he croaks out.
“I got you, Graves,” Theseus says, voice shaking, leaning in to run a trembling hand through Percival’s tousled, unwashed hair. The still-raw tattoo brushes against his cheek - tears a shiver out of Theseus. But he’s already growing used to it.
“I got you. I promise.”