Pᴏʀᴘᴇɴᴛɪɴᴀ Esᴛʜᴇʀ Gᴏʟᴅsᴛᴇɪɴ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goldsteins) wrote2018-03-18 07:20 pm
goldsteins) wrote2018-03-18 07:20 pm
Entry tags:
hesitating won't make things happen
Tina remained few happy things about the later years of her childhood. The times before her parents had died were held precious and were her greatest, happiest memories. Few other memories could contend with the short time she'd had with her family. She'd stopped thinking about what she wanted the day they had died and lived, in short, to make things the best she could for herself and her sister (but of course, even in their adult lives they still had very little money).
She'd never expected good things out of her life. If there was anything good she had to work for it, and even then her own morality caused far too many hurdles. She never expected to be happy or have kindnesses happen, though she was quick to give such kindness to others.
The truth was she had so few expectations out of anything it was hard to believe in anything.
Which is why the dream she was stirring from was so profoundly odd. Newt was in it, as were many others, and for some reason she was a child. It felt too realistic, but hazy now as a dream should. There was happiness in those moments, something that had sent a pang through her then eleven-year-old heart (what did she do to deserve such things?). Hazy though it was there was a sense of longing, of a childhood she could never actually have.
Tina doesn't dream often, so to do so now was startling-- Or it would be. For at that precise moment she was only groggily aware that she should be waking up. She'd never been much of a morning person and Queenie would often claim to have torn her out of bed and pushing a cup of coffee in her hands to get her up. An accurate assessment, she supposed, given by the time she really slept she was dead on her feet.
Her brain told her it was time to wake up, but her body was content in its rest. The warmth of something (someone?) else enticing her to curl up closer to them. She'd shared a bed with Queenie plenty of times before, even recently when the boys had their apartment, it's not odd. Just notably, her hazy mind thought, not as soft as her sister. She wanted to sleep, though, her brain supplied. Just a little longer, it was such a nice dream afterall.
She'd never expected good things out of her life. If there was anything good she had to work for it, and even then her own morality caused far too many hurdles. She never expected to be happy or have kindnesses happen, though she was quick to give such kindness to others.
The truth was she had so few expectations out of anything it was hard to believe in anything.
Which is why the dream she was stirring from was so profoundly odd. Newt was in it, as were many others, and for some reason she was a child. It felt too realistic, but hazy now as a dream should. There was happiness in those moments, something that had sent a pang through her then eleven-year-old heart (what did she do to deserve such things?). Hazy though it was there was a sense of longing, of a childhood she could never actually have.
Tina doesn't dream often, so to do so now was startling-- Or it would be. For at that precise moment she was only groggily aware that she should be waking up. She'd never been much of a morning person and Queenie would often claim to have torn her out of bed and pushing a cup of coffee in her hands to get her up. An accurate assessment, she supposed, given by the time she really slept she was dead on her feet.
Her brain told her it was time to wake up, but her body was content in its rest. The warmth of something (someone?) else enticing her to curl up closer to them. She'd shared a bed with Queenie plenty of times before, even recently when the boys had their apartment, it's not odd. Just notably, her hazy mind thought, not as soft as her sister. She wanted to sleep, though, her brain supplied. Just a little longer, it was such a nice dream afterall.
no subject
It's an incredible thing to consider, really. How Tina Goldstein ended up in his bed. And now they're off to tend to his creatures together. The warmth exuding from such a moment catches in his heart like the flame of a candle, illuminating some part of himself he forgot even existed: the part of him hoping to make moments like this part of his life someday.
"The Mooncalves are the easiest," he explains. "They're gentle and will be happy to devour whatever you put in front of them."
no subject
Which is part of the reason her brow shoots up when he goes from I will teach you to if you would like. It felt more hesitant than the earlier discussions of his creatures. Her teeth caught on her lower lip and she listened as he continued before deciding.
"Newt," She started, brows pinching as she pressed a hand to his shoulder when she came closer, "I thought I made my opinions clear a while ago." Did she, she wondered? She'd tried anyway, but expressing herself never came easily and with Newt things were always...
...They were always a piece of work so she breathed out and tried again. "Of course I want to learn about them. All of them," She said deliberately, "but I also want to learn about you. Why else do you think I'd agree to something as crazy as joining you in looking for creatures?" She tries for a bit of humor there, having not forgotten she agreed to join him on a hike through the woods after feeding his creatures. Were it anyone else she never would have agreed.