#briefcased

Tina can sense Newt’s surprise by her running her fingers across the scars on his hands. She is intrigued by them since she has noticed for the first time that all of his previous adventures are written on his skin. 

a softer world | accepting

“It’s a terrible thing, loneliness. Creeping up andbreaking your heart before you even know it’s their.We have to carry it, though, because we wouldn’tbe wishin’ that kinda pain on anyone.” Queenie responds with a soft smile laced with a knowingsadness.

“But it ain’t forever. Someone comes along andwithout even knowin’ it they get rid of that feelin’.They carry it off and fling it to the sun.” She wantsto tell him that he’s already met her. That Tina is perfect, and will take away his loneliness if only he’llgive them a chance to grow. But she stays quiet,knowing it’ll be better for him to learn on his own.

burn in hell, yesteryear // nye asks !

“ english !” pure exasperation moves tina from one room to the other. she hefts up her box of astral fiasco fireworks ( imported ----- a gift, and as very rare find. ) sans magic. because she means to -----

                          SLAM it down on the floor. a purple plume of explosive powder snakes between the dust motes in the air. 

Tina had been planning on giving Newt a quick kiss on the cheek as the new year chimed in. Just for tradition’s sake.

He, however, had other ideas: Just as the clock struck midnight and she leaned up to reach his cheek, he turned his head and kissed her mouth. Tina’s eyes flew open in surprise, but she quickly shut them again as he continued to kiss her. She practically threw her arms around his neck as she kissed him back.

“ All other men are specialists, but his specialism is omniscience. ”

               don’t reply --  just look frightened and scuttle.

me: spends a very long time whether to use mainstream Crystal Reed as baby!Tina or not. Realizes she’s the only one who has a jaw like Katherine’s.... Very unique to their faces. So voila.

via: that one verse that is digging my grave

He’s brooding about something. It’s easy to tell. He’d been quiet over breakfast and silent through Charms. Newt is reserved by nature, but more so this mid-morning. Even being outside in the sunshine isn’t helping much. She keeps glancing up at him from over her book before finally dropping it to her lap.

dear god I finally re-wrote it for the third time.

She looks up at the source of her stumble forward. A tall figure seizes the blame of bumping into her shoulder with a quick “Sorry”. The clipped British accent catches her off guard. She doesn’t hear it all that often. At least...not as much as she used to.

A mop of unruly rust colored hair draws her gaze, partnered with the peacock blue of his coat. Amidst the crowd of grey clad New Yorkers he is standing out like a rose among dandelions. It’s only when he turns his head and she catches his profile that she’s

Sixteen with her chin in her hand, watching the international students walk through their sorting ceremony. It’s always cute: the aged wizards and witches among the nervous little first years. A taller freckled face wizard with the Hogwarts crest on his chest steps up. Queenie catches her sister’s gaze across the Great Hall and winks. Tina realizes her sister is reading her thoughts and blushes.

“Hey - !” Tina’s voice isn’t loud enough to carry past the people separating them. She takes a few steps forward but halts as a newsie runs in front of her. The Second Salamer pamphlet flutters to the ground. “Hey - wait - !”

“Hey, wait!” she’s sixteen and a quarter, laughing as she calls after a freckled faced wizard as they run down to one of the two ponds on the grounds. “If you think I’m eating Gillyweed you are sorely mistaken!”

Tina closes the space between them in a few quick strides. He looks so much older. Did she look that way too? What did she expect, she wouldn’t always look

Sixteen and a half,  standing next to him in her heels at the Yule Ball, wondering if he is going to kiss her. They weren’t under any mistletoe, but he’s standing so close she can smell the mint and lavender from the greenhouse still lingering on his skin from Herbology class.

Finely boned hands reach out for his arm. What is she even going to say? The last time she had seen him she was

Seventeen and crying at the train he’s leaving on. We’ll write. I promise.

Her hand catches lightly on his forearm, suddenly terrified at her decision. Would he want to talk to her? Would he even remember who she was? He had talked so much about Leta - maybe he’d returned to England and put her straight out of his mind. Maybe she was still foolishly

Nineteen. When the letters stopped coming.

it’s ok to cry !! u dont need a man <3 sending u my love