Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

"[I] Rescue, nurture, and protect them. And gently try to educate my fellow wizards about them." | Independent roleplay and askblog for Newt Scamander from Fantastic Beasts and JKR's Wizarding World | Tracking tag: #fantasticmagizoologist | Sideblog of @doctorattackeyebrows and @cristobalrios

[you-are-another-me]

[beardedmrbean]

One of those situations where, 'you're turning into your father' is the furthest thing from a insult possible.

[rosslynpaladin]

Robert Irwin has grown up into his own man, but dang I bet he does make his family proud.

[oliviawhen]

A solid way to accept someone’s feelings.

[roachpatrol]

i’m gonna die still laughing at this

[montagemode]

I gleefully showed this to at least four people and nobody got the joke so

[end0skeletal-undead]

Hold still. This creature was recorded going 2,569 days without moving.

Salamanders play the long game, with many species living surprisingly long lives. But among these enduring amphibians, there is one outlier – the olm, also known as the proteus.

It has been well documented that these small white cave-dwelling salamanders can live well into their hundreds, but scientists have now gained new insight into the creatures’ glacial pace of life.

In a study which makes sloths look recklessly hyperactive, divers documenting the movements of olms in Herzegovinian caves found that over a decade, individuals tended to move less than 10 metres in total.

However, one extraordinarily inert individual was found not to have bothered moving once in over seven years.

Olms have no predators, are highly resistant to starvation – able to go without food for several years – are blind and live in complete darkness underground and underwater.

They are apparently only compelled to move in order to mate, which they do on average around once every 12.5 years.

In the caves in which they dwell food is typically scarce, but when they are able, olms feed on small crustaceans such as small shrimps, snails and occasionally insects.

Read the full article here.

Photo credit here via Getty

[blackpyrefly]

*wakes up after 12.5 years* oh god i have to fuck

[asapscience]

[faebee-deactivated20190106]

roses are red, tomatoes are sweet, HE BOOTS TOO BIG FOR HE GOT DAMN FEET

[the-plural-of-cris-is-crises]

Happy Threshold Day have Newt Scamander saving the salamander babies for Reasons this totally makes sense

[fantasticmagizoologist]

[ There is (1) Occamy who does not sit in the nest with its siblings, it is outside of the nest and Big, about human-size (which isn't actually that big compared to how big it can grow if it wanted to), because it imprinted on Paris and thinks Obviously this is The Right Size. It mimicks Paris when he's around, follows him around, and likes to display its wings whenever Paris has his wings out.

The nifflers love to steal Paris's feathers, often directly from his wings, plucking them out because they are shiny, but when Paris's Occamy is around it pecks at them (gently, just enough to push them away) because it's Rude to steal feathers and it's Protective of its mum Paris ]

@assasenach

[assasenach-a-deactivated2022011]

CAPTURED IN HIS EYES ( && NEWT. )

Newt closed his eyes and leaned into the gentle touch of Paris’s wing against his cheek. He touched the other’s cheek with his hand in return with a soft smile as he opened his eyes to look at him. Then back at his wing. “… I’ll just go get the salve. Lay back and spread your wing out, carefully. I’ll right back,” he instructed, then stood went to fetch the ointment he made that will help both with the pain and the regenerative process.

It didn’t take him long before he was back with the salve, and he came back to carefully examine the more heavily damaged wing. He already knew where all the injuries were so it was easy to check on them by now, and he gently applied the salve to the injured spots. “I should do this to the other wing as well, just to be sure,” he said. “Since I already have it.” Might as well. It is still injured.

Paris watched him with a slight tilt of the head, taking a moment to admire both Newt’s beauty and his dedication. If it wasn’t for him, Paris doubted that the healing process would be even half as far along as it currently was. No one had ever cared about Paris’ wings, not like this. Paris usually just contented himself with standard healing spells (which weren’t exactly suited to his particular problem) and numbed the pain when he could. But Newt cared about them and he cared about Paris. It was…unusual and it made Paris’ heartbeat race. He reached over to take the other man’s hand in his own when he’d finished with the salve, and kissed his fingers. “Thank you again. I apologise for the fact that this is taking considerable time. Though it’s not… entirely implausible that certain aspects of our current situation are to blame.” The last time Paris had been called into the ministry, a mere two days ago, the wizard examining his left wing had accidentally dislocated a joint. The sentiment that the Veela’s wings wouldn’t have been damaged if he’d had no wings was one shared by many.

But Paris’ focus wasn’t on the bigotry or the specifics of this incident, which he hadn’t told Newt about (not in as many words.) His wings still appeared to be externally healed. The fact that only one of them was healing properly was a fact that he didn’t want to think about. And he didn’t quite know why. For as long as he’d existed, Paris had fought to rid himself of his wings, of their dead weight and lack of usefulness. He didn’t understand why he was displaying this distress towards the idea of their damage becoming more severe. Perhaps it had less to do with the fact that they were still a part of him and more that without them, he couldn’t have saved Newt, and if he couldn’t have saved Newt… Paris instinctively tried to curl his wings in around the both of them. Emotional reactions made his wings much more difficult to control.

[fantasticmagizoologist]

Newt's focus was on Paris's injuries, but he was also paying attention to Paris's words. "Well, it's definitely not helping," he said, of the ministry's rough treatment of him, what Paris had meant by 'certain aspects of their current situation.' "But you got the injuries protecting me. You certainly have no reason to apologize to me. Helping them heal is the least I can do, but I would still be doing this if you had gotten them for other reasons, as well. No matter the reason," he assured.

As Paris curled his wings around them protectively, Newt knew it was a sign of distress. "Hey, shh, it's alright." Newt touched Paris's cheek and kissed the top of his head. "We're alright. Nothing will hurt us here," he assured, and he gently ran his hand through Paris's hair (after making sure all the salve was off of it; his hair is not the ideal place for it).

Paris shifted to bury his head in Newt’s shoulder. “It’s my fault” He pointed out, “𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗜 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱.” What with everything that had happened leading up to the moment Lorian had allowed his emotions to cloud his judgment, Newt had had enough to deal with already. Paris didn’t regret saving his life, or the manner with which he had done so despite its lack of logical strategy, he regretted the fact that what he had done had caused so much trouble. It wasn’t fair to Newt to have to handle the bigotry of a world that wasn’t used to betrayals such as the one that Paris was responsible for. Newt was gentle. Empathic. Paris could only imagine the strain of the matter on him. He was used to it; Paris didn’t know a time or place where he wasn’t shunned for what he was, wasn’t deliberately singled out. 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝗡𝗲𝘄𝘁.

Paris pulled away enough to meet his lover’s gaze for a moment, but resumed his original position, almost immediately. He didn’t want to impose any further on him and yet he couldn’t find it in him to stop imposing on him. Paris’ wings curled back in again and he mirrored the movement unconsciously— the fingers of his dominant hand were now curled into Newt’s shirt, his pulse aligned perfectly with the other man’s own, only much faster. “I’m sorry” Paris heard himself say, and he didn’t count just how many times he repeated it, 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝘄 𝗺𝘂𝗹𝘁𝗶𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺.

[assasenach-a-deactivated2022011]

CAPTURED IN HIS EYES ( && NEWT. )

Blood purity is a rising issue and Newt knew this wasn’t over. Paris concealing his true identity and bloodstatus from the ministry was a serious issue to them. Grindelwald’s fanatics are still seen as that, but he has stirred up in a lot of even loyal people to the ministry issues that are deeply rooted in their culture and many want to bring back. People who see it as their right, but Newt was absolutely prepared to do whatever he needs to to protect Paris.

Newt looked up as he felt feathers hit his head from Paris’s failed attempt to move his wing, and he frowned. “I’m fine. It didn’t hurt. But that wing is still giving you trouble. Do you need me to take a look at it?” Its injuries were more extensive than the injuries of the one already wrapped around him, which was doing a lot better. He reached his hand around to gently stroke some of the feathers on the more injured wing. “Be careful with it,” he said gently.

It was solely due to Newt and Theseus’ interventions that Paris wasn’t facing imprisonment, or further ‘studying’ on the part of ministry officials to determine how much of the truth he’d been concealing. Granted, they still made him undergo constant and somewhat questionable testing, but none of it was as cruel as that conducted semi-illegally at Durmstrang. If the Scamander brothers hadn’t vouched for him, Paris knew that he would be in a far worse situation than he was in currently. He didn’t have a job anymore, and he didn’t know how long his former superiors would make him wear admonitors and restrict his travel, but he knew he’d gotten off easy. He still had his wand, and still had some degree of freedom. He didn’t want to think about what else could have been done to him if Newt and his brother hadn’t saved his life.

“Yes sir, I believe that would help, thank you.” Despite the severity of the pain, Paris leaned into Newt’s gentle touch. It was unfortunate that his dominant wing was the one with the larger problem, but there was nothing he could do about it. Except perhaps letting Newt continue to treat him with that unusual gentleness he was rapidly warming to. He brushed the other man’s cheek with his right wing, rubbing it against him like a cat. Paris wasn’t extremely well-versed in displaying affection, but he was doing his best to show his lover that he was very grateful.

[fantasticmagizoologist]

Newt closed his eyes and leaned into the gentle touch of Paris's wing against his cheek. He touched the other's cheek with his hand in return with a soft smile as he opened his eyes to look at him. Then back at his wing. "... I'll just go get the salve. Lay back and spread your wing out, carefully. I'll right back," he instructed, then stood went to fetch the ointment he made that will help both with the pain and the regenerative process.

It didn't take him long before he was back with the salve, and he came back to carefully examine the more heavily damaged wing. He already knew where all the injuries were so it was easy to check on them by now, and he gently applied the salve to the injured spots. "I should do this to the other wing as well, just to be sure," he said. "Since I already have it." Might as well. It is still injured.

[assasenach-a-deactivated2022011]

CAPTURED IN HIS EYES ( && NEWT. )

The Dark Arts… That’s what he’d suspected. He wanted to believe it had been a spell backfiring but somehow this felt more likely. It had been Paris’s own Dark magic, though, not someone else’s. The thought of what Paris had gone through making him want to hurt, destroy his own beautiful wings broke Newt’s heart, but he wouldn’t be mad about it. Mad at those who hurt him, yes, but not mad at Paris.

Newt closed his eyes and leaned into Paris’s wing as he moved it from Newt’s lap to around his shoulder, not putting any weight on it but pressing into it tenderly, feeling the softness of Paris’s feathers against his cheek. Did hearing Paris mention being knowledgeable in the field of the Dark Arts disturb him? Likely not as much as it should. He hardly gave it any thought. He was more concerned about Paris’s clear distress. “It’s alright,” he said softly, and he ran his hand through Paris’s hair and down the back of his neck to calm him. “Limbs lost to Dark magic are difficult to replace. Nearly impossible to regrow, depending on what exactly caused it. But you do fine without it. The offer will always be there about a prosthetic, though, if you want it.”

Despite how common the marrying of a Veela was in Paris’ native land, he had been an anomaly with his genetics leaning more towards being Veela than wizard. No one had wanted to be friends with him, and some of his professors had been interested in studying him once they’d realised what he was, and it was far more unpleasant than the young boy had expected or imagined. He’d been physically tortured until he’d produced results, one way or another, and there was barely anything preventing that. Bulgarian magical law allowed for many legal loopholes, especially when Paris fell into that grey area between wizard and magical creature. He was wizard enough to be chosen by a wand and perform surprisingly excellent magic, but it was mostly nonverbal. He struggled considerably with verbal magic. On the other hand, he was Veela enough for his natural beauty and spellbinding nature of his presence to weaken those around him. Enough to have these wings.

Paris leaned into Newt’s touch immediately, and his other wing moved to try and replicate it by coming up over Newt’s other shoulder. Except…all that was accomplished was a sudden shower of feathers over the unsuspecting magizoologist’s head. This wing had taken most of the spells in the fight, which made it a little harder than the other to maneuver, even after all this time. Just like using a wand required a dominant hand, using his wings required a dominant wing, and that dominant wing was unfortunately the more damaged one. Paris was still relearning how to control it without hurting it. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? The sensitivity is still somewhat painful.”

[fantasticmagizoologist]

Blood purity is a rising issue and Newt knew this wasn't over. Paris concealing his true identity and bloodstatus from the ministry was a serious issue to them. Grindelwald's fanatics are still seen as that, but he has stirred up in a lot of even loyal people to the ministry issues that are deeply rooted in their culture and many want to bring back. People who see it as their right, but Newt was absolutely prepared to do whatever he needs to to protect Paris.

Newt looked up as he felt feathers hit his head from Paris's failed attempt to move his wing, and he frowned. "I'm fine. It didn't hurt. But that wing is still giving you trouble. Do you need me to take a look at it?" Its injuries were more extensive than the injuries of the one already wrapped around him, which was doing a lot better. He reached his hand around to gently stroke some of the feathers on the more injured wing. "Be careful with it," he said gently.

[lilu-the-almighty]

Hot take!!!

Basic husbandry and animal care needs to be taught in school. Holy shit. The amount of times I’ve had to explain to people that, no you can’t feed your cat on vegetables alone, there is a lot of blood involved when animals give birth she’s not being abused, the baby rabbit doesn’t care of your dog is being “friendly” it’s terrified and likely to die of shock, no the baby deer wasn’t abandoned it’s waiting for it’s mother to come back do not pick it up holy shit stop taking perfectly healthy baby animals out of their environments your literally dooming them

animal care is fucking important. We share this earth with animals, they are a part of out daily lives. It’s not just people going into animal care that need to know this shit, it’s terrifying how much people don’t realize

[sirredmayne]

There is a mating dance in the film, which was written: ‘And Newt does a mating dance.’ I was like, ‘Oh, he does, does he? Okay.’ And I worked with a choreographer that I’d worked with on Theory of Everything and The Danish Girl called Alexandra Reynolds. And she knows that I have two feet, and I am literally the worst dancer in the world. I sent about seven videos to [Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them director] David Yates, which are the most humiliating videos. If they ever saw the light of day, my life would end. And then, they were always the call that I would dread. I’d just sort of sit there waiting, and [David] would go, ‘Yeah, I don’t know if that one’s a bit too–pause, dot, dot, dot–eccentric?’ Oh, okay. That means insane.

[assasenach-a-deactivated2022011]

CAPTURED IN HIS EYES ( && NEWT. )

‘It must be given freely to work.’ A brilliant defense mechanism, and unfortunately necessary. There are so many creatures, both beasts and beings, who are hunted for parts when they have something useful for spells or potions or any other kind of magic. Some people might still try to take Veela hair forcefully, if they don’t know what they’re doing, but they would soon learn that wouldn’t get them anything useful and move on to something else.

Newt gently stroked through Paris’s feathers, and moved them around to carefully check on where some of the injuries were located. The marks were faded now. “It’s looking good. And you have a good range of motion. The sensitivity will remain for a while, I’m afraid, but moving them around is good for them even with the strain, as long as it’s not too much,” he told him. He watched Paris twirling his wand in his hands with quiet interest. He trailed his fingers across Paris’s own, his fingers coming down to meet his damaged finger. Given that Paris has not had it regrown, he assumed that it was caused by magic. There are multiple ways to lose a limb where it can’t be fixed by magic. Certain spells going awry… Or something far darker. “Have you considered a prosthetic? I can make one for you if you want. I’ve never lost a limb I couldn’t fix, personally, but I do have some experience with making prostheses. A finger isn’t so hard.”

Paris’ feathers seemed to shake slightly with this new movement, but he didn’t seem to be in any pain as Newt checked his healing injuries. He obligingly spread his wings in order to make the examination easier. Paris’ wounds had originally been devastating, but with his lover’s assistance, that had slowly changed. Newt had taken gentle care of Paris’ wings, care that had been more kind than any Paris had had in his entire life. Which brought him right to to the matter of his missing finger. Paris gently caressed Newt’s fingertips with his own for a moment as the other man offered to help him, then finally looked up to meet his gaze. “I have spent my years at Durmstrang attempting to remove my wings. Severing them manually only caused them to regrow painfully, so I turned to the Dark magic I knew instead. I failed, despite being knowledgeable in that field. My finger was lost then and I did not wish to replace it. There is… no point.”

“I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me. My wings were responsible for the unfortunate treatment I was met with in my youth. I…attempted to rid myself of them nearly as many times as I have been—” Paris fell silent again, still stroking Newt’s fingers. He knew him well by now, but some part of the Veela’s mind wondered if a recollection of the past would anger him. Paris did not want to see his expression change. He couldn’t. Not when…Paris instinctively brought his wings closer, wrapping the one on Newt’s lap around his shoulder instead; a typically protective action. He didn’t seem to realise that while he waited for a potential emotional outburst, his mind had already decided that Newt was Home. That he was Paris’ safe haven and he would protect him without thinking about the consequences. As many times as he had to.

[fantasticmagizoologist]

The Dark Arts... That's what he'd suspected. He wanted to believe it had been a spell backfiring but somehow this felt more likely. It had been Paris's own Dark magic, though, not someone else's. The thought of what Paris had gone through making him want to hurt, destroy his own beautiful wings broke Newt's heart, but he wouldn't be mad about it. Mad at those who hurt him, yes, but not mad at Paris.

Newt closed his eyes and leaned into Paris's wing as he moved it from Newt's lap to around his shoulder, not putting any weight on it but pressing into it tenderly, feeling the softness of Paris's feathers against his cheek. Did hearing Paris mention being knowledgeable in the field of the Dark Arts disturb him? Likely not as much as it should. He hardly gave it any thought. He was more concerned about Paris's clear distress. "It's alright," he said softly, and he ran his hand through Paris's hair and down the back of his neck to calm him. "Limbs lost to Dark magic are difficult to replace. Nearly impossible to regrow, depending on what exactly caused it. But you do fine without it. The offer will always be there about a prosthetic, though, if you want it."

[assasenach-a-deactivated2022011]

CAPTURED IN HIS EYES ( && NEWT. )

Newt blinked in surprise at Paris’s sudden ‘No!’ and looked at him as Paris tore out two of his feathers freshly for him, and handed them to him. He wanted to protest, he shouldn’t have to pull his feathers out, but Paris did it too quickly for him to express this. He looked down at the feathers, and ran his fingers through the soft barbs, admiring the way the colour blended from gold to white and the different ways the two feathers from different parts of his wing did this.

“Thank you, Paris. I appreciate it. But you don’t need to pluck any more of your feathers, especially not when you’re still healing from your injuries.” He didn’t exactly mean to scold, but he did mean what he said. “But yes, having variety will certainly help in the accuracy,” he confirmed. “You know, Veela hair can be used as a wand core. I’m sure that counts for feathers too. I wonder if three-quarters is Veela enough for it to be an effective wand core. Three-quarter Veelas are obviously very uncommon, you’re the only I’ve heard of.” He looked back at Paris’s wings. “Your injuries are coming along nicely. How does it feel when you flex your wing like that? As far as the injury goes, I mean.” The way Paris had instinctively flexed after the pain of tearing out his feathers was a good range of motion, which makes it a good test for the progress of the healing.

Paris hadn’t meant to overreact, even that lasted only a second or so, but he felt…strongly on the matter. He hadn’t had many possessions himself, and feared having them lest he lost them. It felt wrong to take something from someone when there were different ways (albeit slightly more painful ways) to solve the issue. Paris didn’t mind taking the pain himself. He inclined his head slightly when Newt told him not to pluck out any more of his feathers, knowing that the other man was right. “My wand core is Veela hair.” Paris slipped a hand into his pocket, withdrawing what appeared to be an inflexible wand made of hawthorn. “The tradition of marrying Veela has run in my family for many generations. The men are…drawn to them. To us. This hair was from my great-grandmother. She set aside some for wand cores. If you would like to test the validity of my hair for a wand core, I can do the same. It must be given freely to work.”

“Strained but not so bad. There is slight sensitivity that accompanies the movement.” Paris twirled his wand in slender fingertips, inadvertly putting his mangled hand on display. His brow furrowed. He hadn’t told Newt how he managed to lose his finger so cleanly before, but if the other asked, he wasn’t going to deny him the knowledge. The story just wasn’t all that cheerful or particularly interesting. And if Newt didn’t want him plucking out his feathers, Paris doubted that he’d be too pleased about all the times that Paris had tried to rid himself of his wings, which was how this had happened. Durmstrang taught the Dark Arts openly, and Paris had had an aptitude for Dark magic. And still, he hadn’t succeeded in this task.

[fantasticmagizoologist]

'It must be given freely to work.' A brilliant defense mechanism, and unfortunately necessary. There are so many creatures, both beasts and beings, who are hunted for parts when they have something useful for spells or potions or any other kind of magic. Some people might still try to take Veela hair forcefully, if they don't know what they're doing, but they would soon learn that wouldn't get them anything useful and move on to something else.

Newt gently stroked through Paris's feathers, and moved them around to carefully check on where some of the injuries were located. The marks were faded now. "It's looking good. And you have a good range of motion. The sensitivity will remain for a while, I'm afraid, but moving them around is good for them even with the strain, as long as it's not too much," he told him. He watched Paris twirling his wand in his hands with quiet interest. He trailed his fingers across Paris's own, his fingers coming down to meet his damaged finger. Given that Paris has not had it regrown, he assumed that it was caused by magic. There are multiple ways to lose a limb where it can't be fixed by magic. Certain spells going awry... Or something far darker. "Have you considered a prosthetic? I can make one for you if you want. I've never lost a limb I couldn't fix, personally, but I do have some experience with making prostheses. A finger isn't so hard."

[assasenach-a-deactivated2022011]

CAPTURED IN HIS EYES ( && NEWT. )

Newt touched Paris’s wing carefully once Paris had his wings extended and one resting on his leg. His feathers were soft and the sight still took Newt’s breath away as his eyes slowly followed Paris’s wings. Newt’s sketch… paled in comparison to the real thing, but it served its purpose well enough. He couldn’t possibly capture the full beauty of the man sitting next to him no matter how much he may try. But he was right. It was definitely incomplete like this. “The colour is very hard to duplicate and it wouldn’t be right if it was off…”

He frowned in thought for a moment. “I’ll need a feather. I can get the colouring right if I have a feather to aid in the enchantment. One of yours, not just any feather. The Niffler usually has some, I can get it from him with some persuasion.”

Paris’ own magic was…different. He preferred non-verbal magic, which came to him more easily than verbal magic, but the nature of it was creative in different ways. The most artistic spell he’d performed had been rather dark, come to think of it. He glanced between Newt’s expression and the wing he’d settled over Newt’s knee in quiet interest. It still surprised Paris how the other man thought of his wings— he wasn’t repulsed by what they meant or interested in hurting Paris over them. He was gentle and kind and he seemed to genuinely love them. It was odd as it was beautiful, the thought that these very wings that Newt had loved were what had saved his life.

“No! You don’t…have to do that. He loves his nest of feathers and there’s plenty here to spare.” Paris tilted his head to the side for a moment before reaching over to tear out two feathers from the upper and lower parts of his left wing. This action caused an uncomfortable burning sensation, but he ignored it, flexing the wing a little. “Here you go, sir” Paris gently placed the feathers against Newt’s palm, his touch as light as the feathers themselves. “The colour variance occurs only in these two regions of the wings themselves, so perhaps this will aid you further in your enchantment. If you require more, then please let me know. I’m willing to give them to you.”

[fantasticmagizoologist]

Newt blinked in surprise at Paris's sudden 'No!' and looked at him as Paris tore out two of his feathers freshly for him, and handed them to him. He wanted to protest, he shouldn't have to pull his feathers out, but Paris did it too quickly for him to express this. He looked down at the feathers, and ran his fingers through the soft barbs, admiring the way the colour blended from gold to white and the different ways the two feathers from different parts of his wing did this.

"Thank you, Paris. I appreciate it. But you don't need to pluck any more of your feathers, especially not when you're still healing from your injuries." He didn't exactly mean to scold, but he did mean what he said. "But yes, having variety will certainly help in the accuracy," he confirmed. "You know, Veela hair can be used as a wand core. I'm sure that counts for feathers too. I wonder if three-quarters is Veela enough for it to be an effective wand core. Three-quarter Veelas are obviously very uncommon, you're the only I've heard of." He looked back at Paris's wings. "Your injuries are coming along nicely. How does it feel when you flex your wing like that? As far as the injury goes, I mean." The way Paris had instinctively flexed after the pain of tearing out his feathers was a good range of motion, which makes it a good test for the progress of the healing.

[assasenach-a-deactivated2022011]

CAPTURED IN HIS EYES ( && NEWT. )

“I don’t know… I suppose some people might see it as an invasion of privacy.” Maybe it was. He didn’t think about it like that until Paris asked about it and he started trying to analyze everything he might have done wrong. He forgot that’s not usually necessary with Paris. He could relax with him, not have to worry about that, but that doesn’t mean he does all the time.

Newt watched Paris’s fingers intertwined with his own, and gently squeezed his hand. He tilted his head when Paris said he’s never been appealing enough to anyone. He can’t understand that. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a smile at the compliment. “Necessary skill to pick up for my work,” he said. “And it’s easy with you, I find.” Newt took out his wand, tapped the sketch, and the drawing of Paris began to move his wings.

Paris shifted to rest his head against Newt’s shoulder, watching his sketch move with that same soft expression as before. He wanted to thank him for being… what was it exactly? Open-minded? Kind? Surprisingly gentle?… but as those words all seemed insufficient, Paris didn’t say any of them. He only stroked the other man’s hand, the tension having drained from him completely when Newt squeezed his fingers. Whatever they had, whatever this was, it was entirely worth it. Granted, in an ideal world, Paris would have preferred that finding the man he loved wasn’t accompanied by so many complications— what with the Ministry and their decision to start an inquiry, the fact that Paris was no longer as free as he previously had been, the suspicions and the disapproving glances— but he still would not trade this for anything in the world.

And if keeping it, and keeping this meant it could only happen with two steel bracelets at his wrists and endless questions and restrictions then so be it. What he’d done had been justified despite the risks and Paris owned it. He always would. Aloud, he said: “Have you considered enchanting the wings to show their colour?” Paris then extended his real wings, which only showed the slightest signs of their former damage now, and lightly rested one over Newt’s knee. The long, white-gold feathers sparkled pleasantly in the afternoon sun; unruffled and almost fully healed after the magizoologist’s gentle, careful care.

[fantasticmagizoologist]

Newt touched Paris's wing carefully once Paris had his wings extended and one resting on his leg. His feathers were soft and the sight still took Newt's breath away as his eyes slowly followed Paris's wings. Newt's sketch... paled in comparison to the real thing, but it served its purpose well enough. He couldn't possibly capture the full beauty of the man sitting next to him no matter how much he may try. But he was right. It was definitely incomplete like this. "The colour is very hard to duplicate and it wouldn't be right if it was off..."

He frowned in thought for a moment. "I'll need a feather. I can get the colouring right if I have a feather to aid in the enchantment. One of yours, not just any feather. The Niffler usually has some, I can get it from him with some persuasion."

[assasenach-a-deactivated2022011]

CAPTURED IN HIS EYES ( && NEWT. )

Newt looked down at his notebook, then glanced up in his direction. "Anatomy sketches. For your wings. If I'm to help you understand how to use them I need to understand them myself." He looked down at his sketch again, his hand lightly tracing it, blushing slightly. "Felt strange drawing your disembodied wings so I added the rest of you." He frowned. "I hope you don't mind. I suppose I should have asked first."

“Why would I mind?” Paris tilted his head slightly, an unusually soft expression coming across neutral features. “I've never been...appealing enough to anyone in this regard. The reactions caused by my natural biochemistry hardly count.” He frowned for a moment, before pushing the thought away, instead reaching out to place his hand very gently over Newt's own, intertwining their fingers. “You have an eye for detail, Mr. Scamander.” Paris wasn't used to being seen —truly seen for what he was, wings and all— with a favourable eye, even after spending so much time with Newt, with his soft heart and passionate love for all things strange and unusual. It still felt... like an anomaly, despite knowing that Newt cared for him, and despite seeing the evidence of that bond in front of him.

Paris stroked his lover's fingers with that same gentleness he'd shown when he'd intertwined their hands, a gesture of quiet affection. Paris wasn't that talkative a person but he still wanted to express his appreciation nonetheless. To show Newt that this small action meant to him what no words could, that he felt... Less displeased with what he was when the other man could illustrate it with so much passion. I appreciate you, Paris was saying with every soft caress of his thumb against Newt's knuckles, I appreciate you for your love and support but also for you.

[fantasticmagizoologist]

"I don't know... I suppose some people might see it as an invasion of privacy." Maybe it was. He didn't think about it like that until Paris asked about it and he started trying to analyze everything he might have done wrong. He forgot that's not usually necessary with Paris. He could relax with him, not have to worry about that, but that doesn't mean he does all the time.

Newt watched Paris's fingers intertwined with his own, and gently squeezed his hand. He tilted his head when Paris said he's never been appealing enough to anyone. He can't understand that. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a smile at the compliment. "Necessary skill to pick up for my work," he said. "And it's easy with you, I find." Newt took out his wand, tapped the sketch, and the drawing of Paris began to move his wings.