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#letters summer 1926
soracities · 1 year
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when somebody dreams of us together—that is when we shall meet.
Marina Tsvetayeva, in a letter to Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters, Summer 1926: Pasternak, Tsvetayeva, Rilke
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metamorphesque · 1 year
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― Marina Tsvetaeva, Letters: Summer 1926
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eldritchboop · 9 months
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The Definitive Demonology Book Collection
The Lost Book Project is charging $13 for this collection. If you've found this roundup useful, please consider donating to the Internet Archive instead.
Other roundups here
Three Books of Occult Philosophy by Agrippa (1531)
The Encyclopedia of Witchcraft & Demonology by Rossell Hope Robbins (1959)
The History of Witchcraft and Demonology by Montague Summers (1926)
Biblical Demonology by Merrill F. Unger (1952) Ed note: This book is still in copyright; this is rental
The Goetia: The Lesser Key of Solomon the King (1904)
The Magus, Celestial Intelligencer: A Complete System of Occult Philosophy (1801)
Pseudomonarchia Daemonum by Johann Weyer (1577)
The Grand Grimoire by Unknown (1521)
Daemonologie by King I James (1597)
Satanism and Witchcraft: The Classic Study of Medieval Superstition (1862)
Demoniality: Incubi and Succubi: A Book of Demonology (1869)
An Encyclopaedia of Occultism - L. Spence (1920)
Devils, Gods, and Spirits of the Dictionnaire Infernal (1863) Ed note: The original book is in French; the translation is still in copyright.
White Stains by Aleister Crowley (1898)
The Fourth Book of Occult Philosophy: The Companion to Three Books of Occult Philosophy (1959)
The Biography of Satan (1921)
Begone Satan - A Soul Stirring Account of Diabolical Possession - C. Vogl (1936)
Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft by Walter Scott (1830)
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zeziliazink · 10 months
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Fanfic Classics, batch 5 (Drarry, hot edition)
More Serious Literary Work Book Covers, with a heat theme. Endless days, outdoor soirées, warm spring rain, and hot sweat summer! Sun-drenched shoulders and cautious optimism! Or they just feel sort of lazy and flower-bloomy to me.
Grab a cold drink in a smooth glass before reading on the porch.
Poppiholla by @moonflower-rose
Beekeeping by khalulu
Wild (orphaned work)
Even the Night by @tackytigerfic
Of Wands and Trees by Omi_Ohmy
Pages of You by by @wolfpants
Timeshare by @astolat
Sweet Creature by bribitribbit (@whineosaur)
This Summer by Saras_Girl
Sun Stroke by @peachpety
Part 1, 2, 3, 4, explanation of what I mean by "classics." Art credits below.
In order:
"Summer Evening on the Porch," by Konstanin Korovin, 1922
"Abstract Painting" by Vanessa Bell, 1914
"Femme dans un jardin" by Frederick Carl Frieseke, 1912
"Accent on rose" by Wassily Kandinsky, 1926
"Landscape at Fontainebleau Forest," by Abbott Handerson Thayer, 1876
"The Artist's Letter Rack," by William Michael Harnett, 1879
"The Swan (No. 16)," by Hilma af Klint, 1914-1915
"Shepherd and Sheep at Vlaici," by Nicolae Darascu, 1912
"Promenade," by August Macke, 1913
"Etretat, Cliff of d`Aval, Sunset," by Claude Monet, 1885
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vvanessaives · 9 months
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you lose a bit of yourself during summer: in memory of everything summer gives and takes back every single year
Cesare Pavese, Il diavolo sulle colline + Vincent Van Gogh, Sunflowers (1887) || Faye Webster - Kingston || Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility || Dalida - Love in Portofino + Filippo Carcano, Nata dal Mare (1911) || Maggie Stiefvater, Shiver || Negramaro - Estate || Selton - Estate + Claude Monet, Yellow Irises with pink cloud (1911) || Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne || Anne Sexton, Suicide Note Poem || Nuovo Cinema Paradiso (1988) || Mahmoud Darwish, A River Dies of Thirst || Antonia Pozzi, Diaries of Christmas 1926 || Righeira, L'estate Sta Finendo || Baustelle - L'ultima Notte Felice del Mondo + Winslow Homer, Summer Night (1890) || Anne Sexton, Eighteen Days Without You: love poems || Mina - Città Vuota || Salvatore Quasimodo, Vicolo || Charles H. Traub || Edward Hopper, Summer Interior (1909) || Radiator Hospital - Fireworks || Selton - Estate || Pier Paolo Pasolini, Supplica a mia madre || Luigi Pirandello, Uno, nessuno e centomila.
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vullcanica · 3 months
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   ―    𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄 ft. Avita Desalvar
There was something wrong with her. She didn't know what it was but there was something wrong with her. A hunger, a restlessness. An incomplete knowledge of herself. The sense of something farther away, beyond her reach. - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Americanah
First illustration of a black hole, Jean-Pierre Luminet // Prelude, Brynne Rebele-Henry (via geryone) // girl in the margins of the story, @ exigencelost// The Oresteia, Aeschylus // Things Haunt, Joshua Jennifer Espinoza (via hauntedbythenarrative) // A letter to love, Caitlyn Siehl // Growing Around Grief, Luis Tonkin // Once Upon a Dream, Lana Del Rey // Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal, Jeanette Winterson // Places I've Taken My Body: Essays, Molly McCully Brown (via feral-ballad) // The Singing, Kim Addonizio (via voirlvmer) // Letters Summer 1926: Pasternak, Tsvetaeva, Rilke, Boris Pasternak (via luthienne) // Nearer the Moon: The Previously Unpublished Unexpurgated Diary, 1937-1939, Anaïs Nin (via luthienne) // To The Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf
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acronychalwitch · 3 months
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In people's lives I want to be that which does not hurt.
Marina Tsvetaeva, in a letter to Rainer Maria Time, 14 June 1926, from Letters: Summer 1926
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I can’t understand you. Stop writing poetry? And then what? Jump off the bridge into the Moscow River? With poetry, dear friend, as with love: no separation until it drops you.
— Marina Tsvetaeva, from a letter to Boris Leonidovich Pasternak featured in Letters: Summer 1926
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georgecunt · 10 months
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when i didn't have your face i loved your name
cause all i've ever wanted is you
C.T. Salazar Headless John the Baptist hitchhiking | Sad beautiful tragic Taylor Swift | Vladimir Nabokov in a letter to his wife Véra (14 July 1926) | West Virginia The front bottoms | Safia Elhillo Girls that never die: Summer
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89rooms · 3 months
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What to say: all my words… all my words want to go out to you at the same time; none of them lets another pass.
Rainer Maria Rilke - letter to Marina Tsvetaeva, from Letters Summer 1926: Pasternak, Tsvetaeva, Rilke
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mybeingthere · 8 months
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Édouard Manet 1832–1883, Letter to Isabelle Lemmonier, Musée d'Orsay, Paris, 1880.
Isabelle Lemonnier (1857–1926) was the daughter of a successful Parisian jeweler and the younger sister of Marguerite Charpentier, whose grand portrait by Renoir is also in the Metropolitan’s collection (07.122). Between 1879 and 1882 Manet made several portraits of Isabelle, of whom he seems to have been fond; in the summer of 1880 he sent her a series of letters decorated with charming watercolor sketches.
The Met Museum.
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soracities · 1 year
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You don't know my life in its personal aspect. And you will never know it from my letters. I am afraid to speak out, afraid to cast an evil spell, afraid of intrusion, of ingratitude--I can't explain it. But evidently this blessed lack of freedom is so contrary to my nature that to preserve myself I keep moving into freedom--complete freedom.
Marina Tsvetayeva, in a letter to Boris Pasternak, Letters, Summer 1926: Pasternak, Tsvetayeva, Rilke
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lapinlunairegames · 2 years
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New IF idea that I am sending directly to the waitlist in my brain: you're an archivist in the future who's sent back to the summer of 1926 to retrieve the letters between Rainer Maria Rilke, Marina Tsvetaeva, and Boris Pasternak after you accidentally destroy the records.
Your perception of history and the relationships btwn the poets affects history, since you're writing the future record (and meddling with the sources).
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bookwormstarwarsfan · 10 months
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First day of summer, so it's appropiate to share my favourite Hungarian summer poem's story with Tumblr.
So there was this two poets in the early 20th century, they were superstars at the time, and they are still among the most popular classical poets. Both of them had a bunch humorous works and their friendship was legendary, they always pranked each other publicly.
So one of the guys, Kosztolányi wrote a little poem in 1926, Summer, Summer, Summer, it's really nice, playful, sounds really good, but nothing special. But there is a strange introduction to it, where he reccommends it to the other guy, Karinthy, and says he should read it from different angles.
There is a reason why this poem doesn't have any translations: if you read together the first letters of the rows, you will get 'Lick my ass Karinthi', and this makes this poem the single best written piece in my country's literature history.
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k03lover · 9 months
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Her Broken World
| The Wizarding World
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"Once upon a time, There was a beautiful Princess to be made a Queen by her Knight. This princess had an ugly twin brother whom was always mad at the world. He was the King of the Gaunt family as their father had died years back. The Princess was married off to her love, Raphael Knight and Became the queen she was always meant to be. They had a beautiful Knight Princess in the year of 1909, on a cold winter night of December 8th. The gorgeous baby was named Emelia Mariette Knight, after her own mother Mariette, and a crystal that had the magical properties Raphael hoped to encase their child. To be protected against negative energies and entities, and to have enhanced creativity and imagination.
Queen Mariette wanted nothing more than for her daughter to become the perfect wife.
King Raphael expected nothing less than his daughter becoming someone very important in the wizarding world they lived in.
Their opinion clashing causing Princess Emelia to be confused and wishing to please both of her parents.
Working through their demands daily, never wasting time to relax from the stress they put on her shoulders from a very young age.
The day she finally got her letter to Hogwarts she immediately went off to Diagon Alley to purchase her school supplies and wand, planning on studying before school even starts.
She sped through her years at Hogwarts with Merope by her side encouraging her, that is until her 15th birthday when she got called into Professor Dippet's office for the news of her dead parents whom died in their sleep by a fire set by jealous muggles of their wealth and beauty.
Though I do not blame them for their monstrous acts, but know they will fall and beg at the feet of death himself when it comes time.
Princess Emelia stayed with Cousin Merope in the summers but locked herself away in her room during the other holidays as she was reminded too much of the fact that she would only see her parents when she too died...
but in the summer of  1924 the princess met her very own prince, Tom Riddle, though a muggle- was very handsome and kind to her, they fell in love at first sight.
After being begged by her cousin she finally created her own version of a love potion, expecting Merope to only study its properties and affects like she promised.
Never did she think that her best friend since birth would use it on the man she loved, Tom.
Not realizing he was affected by a love potion she heartbrokenly watched from the sidelines, moving and living with them in London.
Though the love potion didn't stop Tom from demanding her attention when Merope was away.
Never crossing the line of betraying her cousin but never truly stopping his behavior towards her.
Things took a turn when Merope announced her pregnancy, taking him off the love potion, expecting him to at least stay for their child.
She was wrong.
He immediately went to Princess Emelia for comfort from the trauma of not being in control of his affections and action.
Avoiding Merope at all costs and seeking Emelia's love.
Emelia however always took care of Merope during her pregnancy and felt connected to the child. As if the child in her cousin was hers at heart.
Tom, noticing this, was there for the baby by his loves side.
Officially courting the princess in secrecy, fearing Merope would harm them or the baby if she ever found out.
9 months finally passed and the baby was born on December 31st, 1926, but not without tragedy.
Merope meeting the grim reaper during her childbirth.
Tom quickly stopped the nurses and changed the birth certificate of the baby, Changing the mothers name to Emelia Mariette Knight, encouraging her to name their new baby. 'Thomas Marvolo Knight'
She loved the baby with all her heart, wishing for him to be welcomed into the wizarding world, but Tom disagreed with her wishes.
He demanded I leave magic behind and marry him, so for the future of my baby boy, I ran to my family house in America with you, Thomas."
"What happened next, mummy?" a four year old Thomas questions, his head tilted slightly showing his interest. "Well, Mummy met that nice man, Percival and he helped us become legal maj-citizen of the US so we wouldn't get in trouble with MACUSA." I explained to him while caressing his cheeks, trying to soothe him more. "Percy? Where is he now?" he sleepily asks. "Percy is at work, Hun. He's a very busy and responsible man." I softly state, not wanting to disturb his drowsiness.
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literary-creature · 2 years
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Our Days in New York: Chapter 7
December 12th, 1926
It was annoying, but she was one of those people who could never sleep late. No matter how tired she was, or how little sleep she had managed to get, she knew she would be awake no later than seven. However, that particular morning Tina had some exciting perspectives. She dressed quickly, got herself a good cup of coffee, took Newt's notebook, and sat on the sofa.
Her fingers traced the leather cover, feeling excited. She couldn't believe she was allowed to do this. Newt had asked her to read his book, something he hadn't let anybody else do. Not her and Queenie, her. Just her. With steady hands, Tina removed the elastic band that kept the notebook closed, and cracked it open.
The first page was empty, except for the title “Field notes” in the middle, and Newt's initials at the bottom. His handwriting was at the same time neat and messy: The letters looked as if made by an unstable hand, but it was completely legible. She leaned closer to the pages; it smelled like an old book, with a slight fragrance of plants and herbs, and summer. Like Newt, she realized.
Smiling, she turned the page and took out a strand of paper folded in two. Opening it, she discovered a list titled “Possible classification.”
XXXXX Known wizard killer/impossible to train or domesticate XXXX Dangerous/requires specialist knowledge/skilled wizard may handle XXX Competent wizard should cope XX Harmless/may be domesticated X Boring
At the bottom of the paper, Newt had written, “Add to final draft.”
Leaving the paper aside, Tina faced the first creature of the notebook: The bowltruckle.
“The Bowtruckle is a tree-guardian creature found mainly in the west of England, southern Germany, and certain Scandinavian forests. Its height of a maximum of eight inches makes it difficult to spot, and possesses long and sharp fingers. Its primary food are insects. This creature only inhabits trees with wand quality wood. Despite being shy and quiet in nature, any threat to its home will result in an attack.”
The text was accompanied by a detailed sketch of the creature, that pointed out the body parts, and added a few additional facts. Tina noticed XX scribbled next to the illustration identifying the bowltruckle as a harmless creature. A small note at the bottom of the page read “Pickett thinks he should receive at least XXX. I admit he can be vicious when mad or threatened.”
Tina chuckled and turned the page, to find a bigger sketch, and a list of what she supposed were Newt’s observations while studying them: Entries monitoring the behavior and interactions of the species, preferred food, and timetables.
Some pages later, she found something she was looking forward to: Dragons. Tina reached for her cup of coffee and snuggled comfortably into the couch.
She lost track of time.
Newt had collected a huge amount of information, so much that when she reached the sixth creature, Tina was wondering whether it wouldn't be enough for three or four books. It was evident some decisions needed to be made regarding the amount of content. She noticed he had made a summary of each creature's data, probably thinking just the same. The numerous colors of the ink filling the pages let her know it had been going through corrections and additions for a long time. To make it even more charming, she found lots of funny annotations such as “Lettuce gave Bessie a tummy ache.”, “The niffler must have dinner before eight.” or “Ukrainian ironbellies are gentle with their babies.”
It was Newt in his purest state, poured all over the pages, as jumbled, and smart, and amusing, and curious, and nerve-wracking as he was in person, but also as confident and unrestrained as he was only in private. There was a sense of intimacy in reading him, in being the one chosen to be part of his world this way. It produced an unknown tickling sensation in her stomach; one that pleased and alarmed her in equal measure.
It was a while later that the sound of the case latches interrupted her reading.
The case, which had been placed in front of the sofa for the night, opened and Newt's messy hair came in sight, facing away from her. Tina observed, amused, how he looked around, trying to figure if they were already awake.
“Morning, Newt.”
The man jumped, startled. At seeing her, he smiled. “I didn't see you there. I thought you'd still be sleeping.”
“I'm an early riser,” she said. “Queenie's still asleep. What time is it, by the way?”
“Quarter to eight.”
“Oh,” she detected the nervous twitch in Newt's face when his eyes caught the notebook in her lap. “I think I got entertained. Do you want breakfast?”
“I came up to see if you were awake,” he admitted. “In case you wanted to come for the morning rounds.” his hopeful look was enough to make her forget all about food.
“I'd loved to join you.” Tina stood up and left the notebook in a drawer. “Just let me put on my shoes. I'll be there in a minute.”
Newt nodded and disappeared downstairs. She refrained her silly giggle until he was out of sight.
He was getting comfortable to the point of requesting her company. Last night she had agreed to wash the dishes by hand to talk to him some more, suspecting he would have asked for it directly had he dared. This small concession would cost her two or three days of teasing from Queenie, but it had been worth it.
Newt was in an excellent mood that morning, and so was she. There was a new warmth, a new understanding between them. The next hour was dedicated to the creatures, and conversation flew freer than ever. Tina completed the form she had brought from MACUSA the day before as they dealt with the feedings. It was hard to pay attention to official business while being so caught up in her surroundings, but being now familiar with most of the case inhabitants, she handled the situation without much inconvenience.
Eventually, Tina announced she was going to check on Queenie and Newt offered to make breakfast, ignoring her protests that he was the guest. He insisted, promising with total seriousness that he wouldn’t burn her place down. Chuckling, the witch allowed him to start cooking while she awakened her sister.
Tina opened the bedroom door and used her wand to draw the curtains.
“Queenie?” she called. “It's past nine, wake up.”
The only answer she obtained from her sister was a yawn.
“Newt and I finished the morning rounds. He's preparing breakfast, we should go help.”
Queenie's sleepy face surged from under the covers. “He gave you his book?”
“Oh, so for the gossip you're awake.”
“He's been thinking about his book and you a lot, but I couldn't catch the connection,” she commented, arranging her curls to keep them out of her eyes. Queenie always looked perfect, even when she just woke up.
The legilimens smiled at her sister's compliment. “You're so sweet, Teen. But we still have to talk about what happened yesterday.”
“What about it?” Tina said, coming to sit at the foot of Queenie's bed. “You knew all along, that's what had Newt so anxious. He was not sure you would keep your mouth shut.”
“That's unfair, I promised him." she protested, raizing her wand to summon her pink robe. "But oh, wasn't it hard!”
Tina rolled her eyes. “You've been plaguing him, I can tell.”
“And you stayed in the case that late? Alone and unchaperoned?” Queenie interrupted, with a theatrical gasp. “If I didn't know you two, I could imagine all sorts of things.”
“Queenie!” she exclaimed, her cheeks turning red. “How dare you suggest...?”
“I'm just kidding. You two are much too shy to ever raize my suspicion.”
With a wave of Tina's wand, her pillow flew over the room to hit Queenie's head, but not fast enough to prevent her sister’s burst of laughter.
“If you ever repeat that to Newt I swear I'll strangle you.”
The threat only seemed to encourage her. “He's such a tender soul. You have no idea how his mind gets when you’re around…”
“Queenie, I already told you I don’t want to know,” she exclaimed again, shaking her head scandalized. “I will cast a silencing charm if you...”
“And you, Auror Goldstein.” the other pointed at her accusatorily. “You have a crush on him.”
“No, I do not! Stop making up stories.”
“You've been enchanted by him ever since you invited him to stay here. If he needed something to win you over completely, helping you get your job back did the trick.”
“Newt would be incapable of planning it like that.” she asserted, careful to sidestep all the previous affirmations.
“That I know.” Queenie agreed. “The truth is he has no clue of what he's done. His intentions were disinterested. Bonus points for him.”
“Why can’t you leave the both of us alone?”
“Don't be mad at me. I saw how emotional you were yesterday.”
“Well, of course, I was moved,” she admitted, fidgeting with the sheets. “It was so nice of him to think of me at that time. He gets embarrassed every time I thank him.”
“I don’t understand why are you so fixated on this.”
“I couldn't help but feel excited about it,” Queenie told her, reaching for her hand. “For you, Teen.”
Tina stared at her, puzzled. What did she mean?
“You never have time for friends.” her sister remarked. “I know you've met people who didn't get you while growing up, and you never feel like you can be yourself around anyone but me.” she squeezed Tina’s hand lovingly, trying to make her understand the full meaning of what she was saying. “But Teenie, he sees you. He gets you. And you get him too.”
“It's a very close bond you two have formed these past days. It makes me so happy because I know how difficult it is for you. And after getting to know Newt, I can tell he is the same.” she continued. “I'll stop teasing you, but I don't want to hear you talking as if it was not important.”
Queenie seemed to be making an effort to swallow down a lump in her throat. Tina had an idea of what she was thinking about: A close bond she had formed, but lost. It disarmed her faster than any amount of teasing could. She wished, once more, that Queenie would talk to her about it. Before she could find the right words, her sister had changed the subject.
“Now, tell me everything about the book.”
Tina put a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly self-conscious. She didn’t trust herself to speak about the topic anymore. “He asked me to read his book,” she said, her voice so low it was almost not audible.
“He chose you to read it first. That’s wonderful.”
“He said he values my opinion and would like to know what I think of it,” Tina mumbled fast, staring at their joined hands. “I wanted to be helpful, so I accepted.”
“It made you feel so special.”
“Well...yes. Newt's very private, but his work is the most important for him. It means he trusts me.”
“Of course he trusts you, sweetie. You knew that already.”
The memories of the moment, of Newt’s eyes searching for hers, his trembling lips as he forced himself to ask the question, crowded her mind without warning. Their sheer intensity left her perplexed, and as she read the same emotion on Queenie’s face, she had the urge to run away.
“I need to go check on…” she babbled, jumping from the bed. “I should…”
“Go help Newt.” Queenie agreed, taking in her troubled interior. “I'll get dressed and join you in a jiffy.”
Tina walked out of the room feeling unsettled, Queenie's words echoing in her head. Newt was standing where she had left him, frying pan in hand. He pointed at it with his wand, murmuring a spell she didn't understand. Another subtle movement and three plates abandoned the pantry and landed swiftly on the counter. He looked quite at ease in the kitchen as if it was something he did often; as casual in her home, as he was inside the case. His sleeves were up, and some stains could be seen on his vest. He turned his head to the bedroom door, and his eyes found her.
“Tina, there you are.” Newt smiled warmly. “The eggs are almost ready, and I prepared more coffee as well.”
He placed the cup in her usual place at the table, as inviting her to sit. “I added just one spoonful of sugar on yours.”
The correct answer was “Thank you”, but her mouth produced a question instead. “How do you know how I drink my coffee?”
“I’ve been here for almost a week, and you always use the same amount of sugar,” he explained, innocent. “I noticed. Pickett said he thinks he saw you adding two, but I was sure you preferred just one. Is Queenie coming?”
It was a small detail. Very small in fact. But all of the sudden, it dawn on her how much she was going to miss having him around. She was going to miss the random facts about magical creatures, his disdain for rules, his voice, and his accent. But most of all, his company. Coming home from work to have an adventure in the suitcase. Talking to him, being listened to. Being the recipient of all these gestures, no matter how little, that showed he cared about her. The thought of all those things being taken away from her in a few days produced an unexpected ache in her chest.
“Tina?”
“Queenie is on her way.” she stammered, cheeks coloring.
“Are you feeling well?” he asked, his peaceful expression being replaced by one of concern.
“Yes, I'm great,” she replied too fast, trying to produce a smirk. Judging by her interlocutor's reaction, it wasn’t a success. The truth was, she wasn’t so sure she was great. “Why do you ask?”
“You look a little flushed. Allow me.” Newt came closer and carefully put his hand on her forehead, rendering her all but paralyzed. The hand was rough and callous, but so gentle. It felt so warm against her skin, and Tina found herself confused between leaning into his touch and pushing him away. She didn’t dare meet his eyes, fearing hers would give away too much.
“No, you’re not feverish.” he decided after a long moment, taking her hand away and examining her face. “Are you tired?”
“I am. Tired, I mean.” Tina heard herself mumbling. “Yes, I’m tired.”
“Something smells good in here.” Queenie's cheerful voice startled Tina, earning her another worried look from Newt. “Teenie is not feeling well?” she asked, picking the information from the magizoologist head. “What’s wrong Teen?”
Tina was beyond embarrassed at being the center of attention. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, what was that had her behaving like a fool. She had to invent an excuse right away. “It’s just a headache.”
“Maybe you’ll feel better after eating,” Newt suggested, busying himself with breakfast again. “Sit down, and I’ll bring you a plate.”
“Newt’s right Teen, sit for a bit,” Queenie took her hand and guided her to the table, with a look that demanded answers.
“I don’t know what came over me, but please stay out of my mind for a while. Just…Please Queen.”
To her relief, her sister responded with a sympathetic nod.
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Breakfast was an awkward affair: Tina was trying hard to act normal and pretend she wasn’t avoiding Newt’s eyes, knowing very well that his attention was focused on her, and that Queenie was receiving a mix of chaotic thoughts from both.
She had volunteered to help with the cleaning chores down in the case earlier, but given the circumstances, Newt didn’t want to hear about her making any unnecessary effort. Even when she assured him that she felt fine, he was adamant on her being well-rested for the next day.
If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t want to spend time with Newt at the moment. At least until she had figured out what was happening inside her head. But the alternative was staying in the apartment with her mind raging and a curious legilimens.
“I can take a book and sit somewhere downstairs for a while?” she ended up suggesting. “I don’t want to be indoors all day.”
So she found a warm and secluded spot in the thunderbird enclosure and carried the notebook there. At some point, the niffler had discovered her hiding place and came to curl by her side. She had a strong suspicion he had been sent to keep her company. Tina scratched the creature's head as she read, letting the prose ease her worries away. She didn't want to think about what Queenie had told her, or about Newt’s departure. It was easier and much more fun to learn about magical beasts and push everything else aside.
By the time Newt appeared again, she had regained control over her emotions. She accompanied him in the feeding rounds, as usual, doing only the lighter work.
He didn't seem to have registered anything strange in her behavior that morning or suspect that he had influenced it, which eased her anxiety. A little. A traitorous part of her subconscious kept replaying the sensation of a calloused hand on her forehead.
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She could feel the dark liquid bubbling under her feet. The chair she was standing on has started to burn; the smell of it was nauseating. Darkness was surrounding her from every side, and there was no escape.
Then she heard Credence's screams. She was no longer the victim, but a witness. Credence was in the chair, and she wanted to help him, but for some reason, she was rooted to the spot. She could do nothing but watch the black potion consume the boy, as he called for her in desperation.
The anguish was enough to shake Tina awake.
It was not the first time the memory of the death potion visited her at night, but the experience had never felt so vivid. She dried her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her trembling hands, staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. It couldn’t have been long since she had gone to bed, right after dinner. Everything was quiet, but her instincts alerted her: Something was wrong. A quick look was enough to see Queenie's bed was empty. Tina got up and, making as little noise as possible, opened the door and headed to the living room.
Queenie was curled on the sofa, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, crying. She noticed Tina's presence at once and tried to wipe her eyes.
“Queen?” Tina hurried towards her sister, alarmed. “Queenie, what's wrong?”
“Did I wake you?”
“No, you didn't. I had a nightmare.”
Queenie read her mind, catching some bits of the dream, and emitted a horrified gasp. “That's awful. I'm sorry Teenie.”
“It doesn't matter now,” she blurted, sitting by her side. “You were crying.”
“I was,” she said, sweetly. “But it's fine.”
“No, it's not. You're crying because of Jacob.”
Queenie let out a small sob at hearing Jacob’s name. The baker’s presence had been hanging between them all week, but Tina had not dared mention it. “I wanted to give you space, but it's been days and you don't talk to me. You keep pretending you're as usual.”
“Sorry, I didn't mean to push you away. You’ve been dealing with problems of your own, I didn’t want you to feel responsible for this too.”
“Don't be sorry,” she said, frustrated. “I just... I'm concerned Queenie. You've never kept anything to yourself like this. You're hurting. Please, let me help you.”
Queenie sighed and produced the saddest smile Tina had ever seen. “We both learned young that losing people you love is painful. I'm letting myself grieve what I've lost, there’s not much else to be done.”
“How do you know it's love?”
The thought escaped her mind unbidden, and Queenie stiffened. It was something she had been going over for days but didn't mean to share with her sister.
“I didn't mean it like that, I was just wondering because…” she stuttered, hoping it didn’t sound like a reproach. “You barely knew him. How can you tell?”
The legilimens bit her lip, as her eyes scanned the room, not offended, but rather looking for a way to explain things. A moment later, she spoke up. “Remember the story about when mum and dad met?”
The question caught Tina unawares. “Yes, I do.”
“Dad said that he fell in love with mum the minute he saw her. He looked at her, and he just knew she was the one.”
Of course, their parents would come up. Queenie's ideal of love. Tina had repeated the story, told to her by her father, more times than she could remember over the years. As a child, she had wondered many times about how that worked. Knowing the right person at a simple glance sounded difficult, but she supposed she would understand when she grew up. As an adult, the idea sounded even more impossible to her.
“So...Just like that?”
“No.” her sister admitted with a chuckle. “It was different for me. You know that I can’t help but catch people’s thoughts, even if it means listening to things I’d rather ignore.”
“I know Queen.”
“But his thoughts...” she sighed, tearing up. “They were so kind, so clean. When he saw me he thought I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He didn't... Most guys would fill my mind with the most lustful things. But his admiration was so sincere. He meant that, I know he did. Even when he found out about my legilimency he believed it was a gift, even though sometimes it’s most of a curse. He didn’t judge me, he didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. If anything, he found me even more magical because of it.”
“His mind was beautiful.” she sobbed. “But it was not just that. There was this kind of... strange affinity. I can't describe it. It was as suddenly becoming aware of something you didn't know you were missing.”
Tina pulled her into a hug, hiding her own sob into the golden hair. The sight of her Queenie bearing so much sadness broke her heart. But she knew the pain she felt for her sister was mingling inside her with some that was her own. She didn’t have the courage to take a closer look and try to separate both. It was unexplainable, disconcerting, but very real.
“He was the right man for me Teen. We could have been perfect for each other.”
“I'm so sorry, Queen.” Tina stroked her hair, doing her best to calm her. “I wish I could offer at least a piece of advice. I’m afraid I’m useless in this situation.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Queenie muttered, holding her even tighter. “Listening is helpful. Hugs are alright as well.”
“But they won't spare you the pain.”
“You can't protect me from everything. I'm no longer a little girl.”
“You will always be my little girl,” Tina said, pulling back and brushing her sister’s tears away. “I will always do everything in my hands to take care of you. I promise we’ll get through this. The two of us, as we always do.”
Queenie managed a tearful smile. “I know. We'll always have each other.”
It was a while before her crying subsided. Tina held her when she needed, murmured all the supporting words she could muster, and prepared her a cup of cocoa Queenie dutifully drank, before taking her to bed.
After their parents' death, Queenie had been plagued with nightmares for months. She would wake up screaming, calling for her mama. There were nights she was afraid of falling asleep. When the terrors came to interrupt her rest, the child would crawl into Tina’s bed, and let her older sister’s warm embrace lull her back to sleep.
So both women lay in bed together again, finding in each other’s presence the same comfort they had all those years ago. Queenie hid her face in Tina’s neck, just as she used to do when she was little, and drifted off, exhausted by crying.
Tina, on the other hand, was restless. Only when she was sure that Queenie was asleep did she indulge in replaying the memory of falling safely into Newt's arms, of his smile, of their conversations. Affinity, Queenie had said.
She stayed awake, wondering.
Hi there! I apologize for the delay. I've had a difficult month and concentrating on my writing has been hard. I hope you find this chapter enjoyable. I'll do my best to update soon, I promise. As always, you can find this story in AO3 as well https://archiveofourown.org/works/36348679/chapters/95597218 Thank you for reading!
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