Prompt Post #1

[fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme]

 ROUND 1

FUCK IT WE'LL FIGURE OUT SPECIFICS LATER

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Newt Scamander's Scars

[(Anonymous)]

That's is nothing else.

I just really want a fic talking about his scars. Especially the one on the bridge of his nose. Where did that come from? And the murtlap bite on the inside of his left thumb? What was the recovery like after that? Tell me about Newt Scamander's scars!

Mini-Fill: Newt Scamander's Scars

[(Anonymous)]

The newest were thin lines blooming over his chest and arms, raised and dark against his skin like only new scars could be, and he spent more time covering them with thick paste than actually thinking on the patterns Pickett pointed out. They’d never fully go away; curse scars tended toward that, often lingering decades after the event. Newt wasn’t sure he’d like to remember how much of a bitter failure trying to save Credence had been.

His hands shook now, too.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose with a sigh and breathing in the lingering medicinal smell, the younger Scamander stared down at his palms, the trembling appendages both disconcerting and fascinating. They felt like they weren’t his own, despite knowing he’d gotten the silvery scar across his palm from a unicorn’s horn and the mottled, unevenly spaced ring circling the base of his thumb from a wounded murtlap. A nick on his wrist that hadn’t healed quite right was from his own stupidity, climbing up a rather aggressive tree after a neighbour’s kneazle.

Slowly, Newt traced the pale, jagged line that spanned the entire length of his right pinky.

Jarvey, he knew.

Miserable thing had called him dung-breath and hadn’t liked being moved out of Mother’s garden one bit. Leta had liked it, though. Hadn’t liked seeing bone or the blood, but she’d adored the jarvey.

Newt steered himself away from those thoughts before they could go any further, tucking his bare back against the cold wall of the steamship and tilting his head back to close his eyes. Cataloging the different marks was one thing, but the memories associated with each one were not something he looked forward to. Most were mistakes and, even in his fairly short twenty-nine years in the world, he’d made many, many mistakes.

The twinge of taut skin every time he tried to bend over made that obvious.

The remains of sharp teeth made sure he would never be as limber as he used to, but he didn’t hold a grudge against the nundu. It had only been protecting its cub, after all, and all humans looked the same in a panic. He was probably lucky it had only bitten him, though Theseus had thrown an absolute fit over that particular incident.

Newt took a breath.

The first he remembered getting was on his ankle. An adder bite, the scars so old they were practically invisible. But he knew exactly where they were, fingers caressing the skin through his sock. That, and the regrown flesh splotching his entire torso - slightly paler than his normal skin tone - from his time with the dragons, were the only times he’d ever felt like he was going to actually die.

His hands were shaking again.

He could feel the trembling against the tops of his thighs, spreading his fingers out as far as they could and trying to calm himself down. It wasn’t really working. Scrubbing his palm against the side of his face, Newt opened his eyes before scooting towards the edge of the cot and swinging his legs onto the floor.

His creatures would take his mind off the past that he couldn’t change. They always did.

(a quick little musing since newt's scars are one of my favourite subjects to write about, hope you enjoy OP~)

Re: Mini-Fill: Newt Scamander's Scars

[(Anonymous)]

Not OP, but this was absolutely beautiful, and I love how you write