#edit: added the relevant fic passage

[astralprisms]

A comic page based on a fic I was writing, with art by @/LaFrenchbroiche in twitter, text is my own.

The Emperor gave us that recipe and it seemed a shame not to be able to do anything with it in game, so Xa'rok makes some adjustments (and some familiar mistakes)

The Emperor's voice rang suddenly in their mind, urgent. Take care not to--

It didn't get to complete the sentence before Xa'rok saw the smoke curl up from the fire in a great black plume. Xa'rok cursed and shifted the pot from the flames.

..burn it. Despite the momentary panic, the Emperor seemed almost amused. A beat passed before its voice slid back into Xa'rok's head again. Why do you think I included that note in the recipe?

Xa'rok licked an errant splash of cream from their thumb and shifted the pan back to the fire again.

"You wrote that?"

Xa'rok didn't rise to the bait. "You must have been close."

Copied, from a book of my mother's. That note was a late addition. Its attention grew pointed. She often complained that without it, I would become distracted, and forget.

Of what I recall of my human memories, very. Its voice grew distant, as if lost in another place. She was, without a doubt, the greatest woman that ever lived.

Xa'rok hummed thoughtfully. "There aren't any relationships like that, among my kin. I don't really have anything to compare it to. Rearing was the job of the Varsh, and guidance the purview of our instructors -- but I wouldn't call their instruction 'care', exactly." They gave the soup another stir.

"They readied us for life beyond the creche, yes; trained our senses, and strengthened our bodies, but it was nothing like this."

They removed the pan from the fire. The soup had grown thick and boiling, its creamy broth churning with butter and spices, studded with the thick-cut vegetable from which it got its name. It smelled strongly of the soil.

"We ate what we could find and fought one another for what we couldn't. Taste was hardly a factor in those calculations. I can't say I've eaten ferns before, though."

Had you been paying closer attention, you could have sampled them for the first time unburnt.

Xa'rok snorted. "And whose fault is that!? Your stories are a lot more interesting than watching some pot boil over."

As I've said, I've made the same mistake. Consider it...a rite of passage.

Xa'rok ladled themself a helping and posted up with the bowl balanced on their knees. "Maybe I'll like it better this way." They said, just to be contrary.

The Emperor laughed. I said that, too.

A moment passed in silence while Xa'rok lifted the first spoonful to their lips. They swallowed, and the Emperor's presence seemed to solidify, almost as if it sat beside them in the flesh, instead of trapped within the prism at their side.

What do you think?

"I've definitely had worse," Xa'rok started. They swallowed another spoonful, savoring the flavors as they mixed on their tongue. Despite the char, the fiddleheads were surprisingly tender as they tore beneath their teeth. Earthy and hale, they were strongly reminiscent of the ground they had been plucked from.

"Gale says that it's human custom that a meal is only as good as the company that shares it. In that case," Xa'rok glanced beside them at the artefact, the empty space. "I suppose I haven't had better."

[palmviolet]

for the ask game: 11, 13, 18, 22. lol sorry this is many but i want to know!

ooh don't apologise i love these (despite how long it took me to answer this... sorry about that)

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

interesting question. the thing is with fanfic that i actually don't really edit... quick proofread, maybe a sentence or two added but rarely deleted, and any corrections from my lovely beta @shdwsilk, but i don't tend to murder my darlings alas. original fiction is an entirely different matter. editing process is ruthless, but each time i begin a new draft it's a whole new document (even if just duplicated) so i always have my darlings safe in a prior version. and yes, i grieve. such good stuff relegated to the graveyard

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

in terms of what's difficult, i've honestly always found it hard to write about things close to my own life, even the most mundane things like going to tesco, getting on the tube. i guess its authenticity reads as somehow uncanny to me, feels performative and too false. that goes for people in my life as well — i try not to consciously base characters on people i know, but if i do find myself doing it, i immediately feel like the writing is somehow cheap and pretentious and otherwise just not very good. which is very much the opposite of 'write what you know.'

and then the flipside, it comes very naturally to me to write about america and american culture, despite not being american in the slightest. i just seem to like my own writing more when it's further away from my own experience, even if the feelings in the work are my own. but i think this is probably a mental block more than anything else.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

this is the reason it took me so long to answer lol there's too many to choose from. i was tempted to go for one of my PB fics, since that's the interest we have in common, but my TD stuff is much fresher in my head, so here:

Rust doesn’t dignify that with a response. He lights another cigarette — number eleven out of twenty, all smoked in the vicinity of the last hour and a half — and taps out laboriously a reply to Laurie’s text. Cowboy hats. Number keys as letters: what he actually writes, in the physical sense, is 222666922666999 44287777. There’s no function for a question mark. Everything delivered assertive, strident, grammarless, a speech-act. A fact already in motion. And her immediate response: 733777333332228 627778999 222266 4338 844336. Or, perfect marty can get them.

this is from chapter four of out of time man. it's set in 2000, and i knew there'd have to be a text conversation at some point, which got me thinking about the mechanics of texting back in the day and how annoying it was, and how that disconnect between action of typing and sense that comes out (signifier and signified...) maps onto rust's larger deal about body vs. self ('sentient meat'), which is specifically relevant to his relationship with laurie, in which he's very much just going through the motions because he believes that's all he needs to do to maintain the semblance of a healthy life.

and this is mirrored in the text here: 'a fact already in motion.' his belief in the inevitability of his biology translates into the primacy of the physical act of typing, which supercedes its sense or personal, grammatical inflection.

there's also a level of irony here that i couldn't help but imbue, reflecting the series' own wry humour: rust here is being predictably existential and dramatic about the notion of wearing cowboy hats to a costume party. which in itself goes to the heart of what i'm doing with this fic, which is exploring the notion of masculinity as a performance through the arena it's made most explicit — gay rodeo. to dress up as a cowboy invokes america's frontier colonial past, invokes rural masculinity and the violence of the movie gunslinger (himself related to the detective archetype), the death drive as represented by the rodeo — and all of that a costume, a performance of something hollow at the heart of american culture. to transmit this through the code of a phone keyboard only heightens its camp ridiculousness.

anyway. all this to say i'm having a lot of fun with this one. this paragraph did require me a) double checking how many cigarettes are in a pack of camel blues and b) looking up the old phone keyboards to make the numbers accurate. but my favourite paragraphs are the ones that take half an hour of thought and research ahaha

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

....not very lol. all the writing proper is on google docs, original fiction on one account and fic on another, and i tend to do all my planning just... in the bottom of the same document? which gets annoying and means i don't know what the actual word count is but. idk. i also jot ideas in my notes app if i'm on the move. as for actual research, i keep my notes in word. for some reason. why do i do this. idk.

i've also become extra disorganised with TD because i don't even keep each fic in separate documents anymore, mainly because each of them has begun with a scattered snippet and slowly grown legs over time, while i'm working on about five different ones at once. hence it's impossible to find anything. again, why. who knows.

thank you so much for the asks! i had a lot of fun answering these, sorry it took me so long lol

[this-is-krikkit]

Heeeey!

19 and 23 for the Writer's Ask? XDDD

❤️

hey, you ! thanks for the ask !!

send me some writer's asks

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

these always make me nervous, because i edit so much that this is probably not going to end up in the actual finished fic. but here we go anyway:

“You know, it's a shame that you two don't get along,” Hange called out from behind him, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the empty room. “You're both freakishly strong and obsessed with cleanliness, I mean... if that isn't a match made in heaven!”

23. Dialogue or description? Why is the other one so hard?

OH MY GOD, DIALOGUE FTW, are you joking?? dialogue is so much easier! it's usually how i get ideas for fics, and no prompt works better on me than the "include this quote in your fic" ones. i can hear and see the characters speak in my head and adjust whenever i realize i wrote something that was ooc or useless, or when i think of a powerful line that i'd like to include that echoes either canon or something else i've put in the same fic/universe... i love dialogue so much, and it's so fun to play with all the different options of it: spoken out loud, in the character's head, adding details about how or why they're saying it or what they're doing as they say it, put an emphasis on howwri it's interpreted by other people when i'm writing from another character's pov... i just. LOVE. IT.

description... sucks. can't people who read my fics just see what i'm picturing in my mind without me having to describe it??? uggggh. i think it's so hard because a) english is not my native language and i'm not as good as i thought i was at it, and as a result i find myself lacking in vocabulary to express stuff i'd be perfectly able to depict in my language (and i know i could just search for translations, but it's tedious and frustrating work and i loathe how it interrupts the flow of my writing and makes it feel like homework, brrr); and b) i usually find it's the most boring part of both writing or reading? like, of course it's necessary, but description feels to me like either a break or a soft way to ease into a scene, and as someone who's very hands-on and likes to jump right into action rather than being gently led to it, i have very high standards for it. it needs to be relevant to the plot or the scene, or to be a necessary break (in a particularly action-packed scene, to mark the passage of time, to put emphasis on a character's feelings, to take a lil break in the middle of smut, to hike up the suspense...), and i don't feel like i'm good enough to write it so it fits those conditions. which is why (and i'm painfully aware of it) it's blatantly lacking in my own writing oops x)

[thetpot]

Happy FFWF!! Tell me about your editing process! Do you edit as you go? Create multiple drafts? Have other people read your work? Read through it a thousand times? I'm always curious about what happens to other people's writing between first creating words and publishing.

happy ffwf, friend :)

i edit as i go! i write every 2-3 days and when i do, i read what i wrote before and do line edits before i proceed to adding more. it's rare for me to adjust entire scenes once the draft is finished, and i definitely don't create more than one draft. i work in a onenote file so whatever i'm scrapping or adjusting goes into a column of text adjacent to my main body of text. so it's there if i need to refer to it or decide to reintegrate it.

this kind of flexible workspace is great for me while editing because it removes the need for any extra files and takes the stress out of editing for me. whatever i remove or tweak is right there alongside my main text and i can go back and get it any time i want to. i'll have like 2-3 versions of a certain passage next to each other but the one i decide on or am currently working with will be the one in the main body.

as an example (because i think you'll get a kick out of this), this is for the undone and the divine:

so on the side, i'll have anything from story bits, freeform journaling(?) about the fic, characterization notes, screenshots of discord chats where i've talked about the fic, bits from the show that reveal characterization that i intend to use in the fic. literally whatever i find relevant.

i share snippets of my work with friends but not the entirety of it. in general, i don't really want any creative input on my work (by which i mean that i may not always know where i'm going with something but i do know that when i get there, i'll be able to recognize if it's right or not. and that feeling is so obscure and intuitive that i don't really trust anyone else to get it nor would it be helpful to the final quality of the work or productive for anyone to put their time into that). i do, however, solicit advice on certain phrases if my bilingual brain is having a tough time figuring out grammar rules or certain americanisms.

i do read through my work a thousand times! i hadn't written for many years until i started writing fanfic recently, and just the fact that any of my writing even exists is endlessly fascinating to me. i'm always rereading. i also write zukaang fic that i'd like to see so i need absolutely no convincing to read my work at any time lol.

[kangaracha]

1, 4, 5, 8, 9, 13 :)

de1: of the fic you’ve written, which are you most proud of?

not counting my fics that aren’t zombies, if only we knew. I often feel like I lose the thread of my themes and stuff while writing my like longish stuff, but on this it all just sort of....came together and Worked. also I really challenged myself with the themes of this, and I’ve continued challenging myself with the themes of the sequel, and the chasm grows and I’m really happy I stuck to my guns with it because I think it came out really nicely.

also that one prompt I did for you where zed lowkey killed addison? yeah I’m pretty proud of myself for that. (but really, I turned that out in thirty minutes total, which is probably the fastest I’ve ever had something that feels so complete finished ever, and I was so happy with the twist and the clues I worked in there and it’s probably the only short thing I’ve ever written that doesn’t feel like the pacing is weird or rushed)

4: what are some themes you love writing about?

hmmmmmmmm. I think friendship is my like, go-to, I love building/exploring relationships between characters and generally I latch on to friendships over romantic relationships. death is always a good one, I enjoyed exploring that in if only. I don’t like coming of age or the ‘chosen one’ sort of plots, but I do like strong characters and taking them on a journey of discovery/leadership/growth into being a hero. My one true love is apocalypse stories, and all the things that come with them - the loss of hope, the losing or finding of humanity, the state of the world/humans, corruption, rebellion, the choice of whether to be good or bad, the ability to question if there is a point at which it isn’t worth it to live in a world like that anymore.........there are just endless, really deep and solemn themes to explore there and the added bonus of these twisted and sometimes unrecognisable worlds.

5: what inspires you to write?

in the day-to-day, music is a huge help in just...setting my mind to writing, getting in the right headspace, and it’s a great source of ideas sometimes too. I have a playlist for everything that takes more than a couple of days to write, so when I need to settle into the vibe of a piece or I want to spend some time thinking about what I’m doing with it, I’ll throw on the playlist and spend an hour or so like...sinking into it. 

otherwise, my fanfic ideas mostly come just from lines or things I see in the source material - identity came from that scene when they return from zombie containment, zed’s explanation of containment and eliza’s spiel. the beginning of if only came from your prompt fill but the rest of it sprouted entirely from the line ‘we die. we be nothing.’ and you will run and run and run came to me during eliza’s verse in ‘my year’. 

my favourite place to come up with fantastic scene ideas and/or plot twists is in the shower, or while driving. on my way to work is a particularly good time, because it’s just so early and my brain is still half-asleep and doesn’t care about plot holes.

8: is there a character you love writing for the most? the least? why?

well I mean, right now I am l i v i n g for that Wyatt-centric fic. he’s a character that’s calm and thoughtful and leaves a lot of room to fit in contemplations and explain plot elements and leave space between dialogue without it feeling out of character like it might for a character that is more hot-headed and faster-paced. I really like Eliza for similar reasons, even though she’s a much sharper character - where Wyatt is slower, a mediator who evaluates options, she is clever and cunning, still a character who is always thinking and who can be used in that way, but for a different sort of outcome (which I desperately hope to explore in run and run one day)

my least favourite is Willa; I took a pass at her in hunters (it’s do or die, to everyone who isn’t keeps xD), and while I really like writing her as a secondary character, I find it really hard to get into her brain while maintaining that ruthless, ruled-by-pride version of her that I’ve built up without accidentally softening her. I just find that she stands up a lot better when I am writing from another point of view looking at her, rather than trying to get inside her head, and the way that I’m going towards breaking her down in a current wip is the only way I’m really interested in doing it - I don’t think I’d ever be interested in writing anything like if only we knew with Willa as the focus.

9: a passage from a wip

this one is just mean because you know that the only wip I have enough to show you of is and the chasm grows, and you know that you’ve seen everything I want to show you and that I’ll want to show you something new because I like it when you yell at me xD

“I don’t need your help, Wyatt,” Wila insists, unaware of the way such a cold sentiment splinters his heart into a million pieces.

“You always need my help,” he replies, his voice rising and rising. “You asked for my help just a few days ago!”

“And then you went and caught a fever, walking around out in the rain!” Her words are hot and angry, but for the first time, it is not directed at him. “I haven’t needed you all week, Wyatt! And I don’t need you when you’re half dead!”

13: who are your favourite writers?

s h i t.

out of the zombies fandom, you and @fist-it-out, although I’ve tried to read all the stuff from you guys in the discord and everyone seems to have their own little niche (even my tumblr friends who aren’t in the discord have their own corner of the fandom, everyone is rocking it, I’m just over here trying to carve out my own piece of paradise). i have nothing to say to you and sarah because I tell you all the time that you’re amazing so I’m just gonna name everyone else I talk to on a regular basis.

@rainfallingfromthesky is honestly the mvp like if I’ve read anything of yours then I don’t remember but you’re a godsend for editing and you’re the only thing holding river cold together and you fix my words when I don’t know what to put there so you’re one of my favourite writers even if you’ve never given me anything to read.

@kokinu09 and @gayce-ventura over here in fluff city keeping the balance on the relevant fanfiction sites between my everyone dies nobody’s happy bullshit and y’know, actual good fic. I don’t get like, pms bugging me to read your stuff so I think I miss it sometimes or I’m like ‘oh I’ll sit down and read that later’ and then I’m busy for four days and that’s honestly pretty shit of me but I’m still reading and I still love your shit, I promise xD

@gogoseabrook i mean..............weather warning. that’s....that’s all.

I didn’t think you’d be writing shit like that brooke like I think I still have whiplash. you’re over here telling me I intimidate you and then you just quietly put the link to that in the discord. like........holy shit

[hellcheer-munson]

Flu - a Newt/Tina fic

Tagging: @pinkdiamonddolphin

Prompt: Hey I am sad anon again. Can it be a worried Newt over sick Tina (it can be morning sickeness or just a cold). Thank you so much! ❤

This started with Newt taking care of Tina and then became sick!Tina helping Newt with the new edition of his book, and then back to sick!tina followed by fluffy!newtina so…? I hope it’s alright!

This is quite early in Newt and Tina’s marriage, so I hope you enjoy!

“’m fine, honestly…”

“Tina, you have a rather high temperature,” Newt stated, somewhat fretfully. “You’ve been coughing and hacking all night, and your voice is going…I think you’ve got the flu.”

His wife frowned half-heartedly at him. “No, I haven’…jus’ a cold. I can go to work still…” She paused to sneeze; he looked concerned. “Urgh. Jus’ bad cold.”

“I’m definitely cancelling my meeting with the Mr Worme,” He muttered, rolling up his sleeves. “The new manuscript will just have to wait… I’ll get you some Pepper-Up potion and some tea, but I still think the best thing you can do is to sleep.”

“No,” She disagreed, and she seemed slightly more desperate now. “I don’ get sick. I never get sick, Newt, ‘m fine…I can…” She stopped speaking again and coughed violently, wheezing slightly. “Mercy Lewis.”

“Tina…”

“Alrigh’,” Tina relented miserably, sagging in defeat. “I’ll owl in – jus’ for today.”

She allowed him to drape a blanket over her, despite the fact her cheeks were burning bright red and her temperature was high; Newt retreated downstairs for a few minutes to make some tea, and when he returned he carried a tray with two mugs, toast and a vial of Pepper-Up potion.

“Wha’ are you-?”

“Why, I’m going to stay with you, of course,” He said, rather matter-of-factly. “You don’t honestly expect me to leave you on your own?”

Tina raised an eyebrow. “Bu’…the mee’ing for the book…”

“I’ve owled Mr Worme,” Newt assured her. “We’ll have to reschedule the meeting for another day. Now, this might make you feel a little better.” He uncorked the vial and handed it to her. “You’ll probably still feel a bit rotten but…well, it’s better than nothing.”

She did still feel rather stuffy and ill, but she didn’t bother saying anything; the two of them quietly ate the toast he had brought up together and drank their tea. The warm drink cleared her sinuses slightly, much to her relief, but she still felt utterly awful.

“Newt,” Tina murmured once they had finished eating. “I don’ wan’ you to catch anything…”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” He dismissed, waving a hand at her. “I’ve had worse than the flu before, believe me: I just want to help you get better, love. Here, I’ll get the washing done – you rest.”

There was no arguing with him – he would be stubborn on this matter, no matter what. With that in mind, Tina huffed half-heartedly and pulled her robe tighter around herself; she was freezing for some reason, despite the fact she had a soaring temperature, and she was suddenly glad she had gone to bed in her usual vintage pyjamas the night before (as opposed to one of the lacy slips her sister had gifted her for her wedding night…the idea still made Tina blush like a schoolgirl).

Even when ill, though, she didn’t want to rest; part of her knew it would be for the best to allow her body to recover so that she could get back to work sooner…but the other part didn’t want to have to take days off. She wanted to be successful, and as she was still so new at the Ministry she felt that it was necessary to work hard to prove herself. A day off would do her no favours.

It wasn’t too long before her husband returned, this time with two fresh cups of tea, a pile of papers and a quill; when she raised an eyebrow at him, he gave a shrug. “I need to finalise some edits on the new manuscript – some of the information on Augerys needs updating.”

Tina took the tea gratefully and watched as Newt settled himself on his side of the bed; he was barely dressed, the top of his shirt open and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, deliciously dishevelled. He set to work immediately, his quill moving over the page to cross out certain sections and scratching out certain notes; she could only observe, rather captivated by the sight of him concentrating diligently.

“Can I…?” She sneezed violently, nearly spilling her tea. “Mercy…Can I help?”

Newt cast her a glance, somewhat unsure. “Well…I would love very much for you to help, I would-” He was cut off by another violent sneeze. “But I think you should focus on resting…a nap perhaps?”

“’m fine,” Tina gritted out, and she put her mug down on the side-table with slightly too much force. “Le’ me help, Newt.”

“Alright,” He sighed, and he passed her some papers. “I’ve made some notes already, but I still need to come up with the phrasing for the book…if you start to feel tired, though, don’t feel obliged-”

“I’ve go’ it.”

Despite the fact her head was pounding, it felt rather nice to be sitting beside him as they poured over his latest manuscript. Tina knew that she wasn’t as acquainted with the creatures in his book as he was – most of them she’d never even seen – but as she read over the passages she couldn’t help but feel herself start to smile; it was like reading it for the first time again, and it brought back memories of the first time she had read her husband’s book. She could clearly remember sitting in the apartment she had once shared with her sister, engrossed with the copy he had given her (as promised) – just like then, she read the words with his voice in mind, smooth and comforting.

For a while, they worked together quietly as they looked through the half-edited manuscript; it was rather nice, a calm kind of peacefulness settling over them. It was only as she was reading about the Niffler that she felt her eyes start to droop against her will, a wave of tiredness rushing over her.

Newt seemed to realize and put down his papers. “I think you should get some sleep, Tina – my mother always insisted that sleep is the best thing to do when you’re ill.”

Tina wanted to disagree, but she just didn’t have the energy; reluctantly, she handed him his manuscript drafts back and allowed him to help her under the duvet. It was far too warm for her liking, but she felt herself starting to drift off almost immediately. “Jus’ five minu’es,” She mumbled with a yawn.

“Of course, dear,” He said, voice full of both amusement and affection as she fell asleep in front of him.

She woke up to a running nose and a hacking cough sitting in her chest.

Newt was ready with a ridiculous amount of tissues and a mug of tea (kept warm by a charm) as she spluttered and gagged, patting her on the back and wiping her nose; she tried not to go red, reaching to take the tissue from him. “I’ve go’ it, Newt, please…”

As Tina blew her nose, she made a noise that sounded more alike to an Erumpent than a normal human being; her couldn’t help but grin as he looked away, amused despite himself.

“I mus’ look awful,” Tina sighed miserably.

“No,” Newt disagreed, quite unperturbed. “Not awful…unwell, yes, but awful might be a push.”

She huffed, blowing her nose again. “How’s the book coming?”

“Nearly there, I’d say… I’m just debating what’s relevant and what’s not, really. Your suggestions really helped,” He added quickly, knowing it might make her feel slightly better; after a moment, he grinned at her. “Perhaps you should consider a change of career?”

“Yeah, righ’,” Tina snorted, slumping against the headboard of the bed.

By the time dinner rolled around, Tina was rather sick of being stuck in bed; insisting that having the flu did not mean being unable to walk, she ventured down to the kitchen to eat. It was a rather watery vegetable soup, nothing appetising at all, but Newt insisted that it would make her feel better in the long-run. Once they had finished eating, he offered to do the washing-up again and told her to have a sit-down on the sofa in the front room. Aching and too tired to put up a fight, she agreed and left the kitchen.

Once he had finished the dishes, Newt set off for the front room; he’d offer her another mug of tea, discuss something that needed discussing, and then attempt to coax her into a good night’s rest, he decided. Being sick had made her somewhat more agreeable, so perhaps it would be easier to convince her than it would usually.

“Alright, Tina, I was wondering… Tina?”

To his surprise, his wife was curled up fast asleep on the sofa; he knelt down in front of her and gently pressed the back of his hand to her forehead – her temperature was burning right through her, and he hoped it wouldn’t be too long until it broke. Her cheeks were flushed, eyelashes fanning out, mouth open as she breathed uneasily…despite the fact she was ill, he couldn’t help but find the image rather adorable.

“Not to worry,” Newt murmured, standing up; he reached to take the blanket that was folded over the back of the sofa and opened it out. He draped it over his wife carefully, not wanting to wake her up, and then leaned down to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “You sleep, love. We’ll talk later.”

Tina barely stirred as he left the room, still snoozing peacefully.

It took a couple of days for her to feel well enough to return to work – and a part of her didn’t want to go back, really, because despite the fact she loved her job it had been positively wonderful to spend some time with her new husband. They really hadn’t spent a lot of time together at all in the last month and a half they had been married, too occupied with other matters such as work and an upcoming war…it would be bittersweet returning to those things after such a lovely couple of days together.

He watched her as she dressed that morning, looking somewhat uncertain for some reason; it was only when she sat on the bed to tie her shoes that he cleared his throat.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Newt suddenly said. “The book…it’s going to be the first edition published since we got married.”

Tina raised a brow at him. “So?”

“Well, usually when a book is published there’s a section at the back about the author,” He mused.

She knew this – she had read over the “About the Author” page countless times before they had entered a relationship, hoping to learn some more about him and his past experiences.

“Do you know what it says at the moment?”

She nodded – in fact, she had read the book (especially the author’s page) so many times she had memorised it. “Yeah: it talks about your mother being a breeder of fancy hippogriffs, and how you used to work for the Ministry…then something about traveling to look for new beasts.”

“Indeed. It’s just that recently I thought it…it might be time I updated it,” Newt informed her, and he gestured to the manuscript on the chest of drawers across the room. “This is only a rough idea, of course…I wanted to have your permission first…”

Still having no idea what he was talking about, Tina moved across the room to pick up the stack of papers, flipped to the back page, and began to read: it was exactly the same – until the very end.

Scamander continues his research and work in the field of Magizoology, traversing the world to collect more information for new editions of his current bestseller, ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’. When not travelling, he resides in Dorset with his wife Porpentina.

“Newt…”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Newt murmured, and his cheeks were slightly pink. “It’s only a small sentence, just a little something…I just thought…”

Before he could finish explaining himself, however, she was embracing him and burying her face into the crook of his shoulder. “Thank you,” She breathed, and he could feel her radiant smile against his skin.

“So…you have no problem, I take it?” He joked, and he grinned when she laughed. “It’s nothing overly grand or romantic, I’m afraid-”

“You don’t understand,” Tina interrupted, and when she pulled away she was looking rather awestruck. “A part of me has wanted to read that in your book for years.”

“That we reside in Dorset?”

She rolled her eyes fondly, shaking her head. “No – that I’m your wife.”

Blame the new edition of the FBAWTFT textbook :3