calamity's child

Emma Goldstein Twenty. Hufflepuff '22. Middle sister. Cornish bint. Puddlemere Institue student. ❝ She refused to be bored chiefly because she wasn’t boring. ❞

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jamesnotserious:

~*~*~*~*~apparition~*~*~*~*~

“That didn’t make me lose any of my finger nails, did it?”

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arrangoldstein:

“we’re letting a knut decide my fate?”

“No. You are---that little voice inside your head.”

“You’re getting ahead of me. A knut, please.”

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jamesnotserious:

“If you are.”

“Yup.”

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jamesnotserious:

“Ready?”

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arrangoldstein:

“hit me–”

“Alright. Give me a knut.”

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jamesnotserious:

“Are you gonna explain, or—?”

“Are we going to Falmouth or what?”

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arrangoldstein:

“nothing – i’m getting nothing from it”

“it seems like all parts of me are stumped–”

Hm.

I have a thought. It’s harsh, but I think it’d help.

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jamesnotserious:

Thank fuck.

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arrangoldstein:

“I don’t know what to do –”

Trust your gut.

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arrangoldstein:

So.

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arrangoldstein:

“what would i do without you–” 

Drink up, buttercup. 

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miss-shafiq:

“Got it.”

Thanks.

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jamesnotserious:

Depends. Is that at all related to Cornish pixies?

Those bastards? 

No. 

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miss-shafiq:

“What’s it look like? I’ll keep an eye out.”

Black, has a couple of holes, definitely worn-in. Looks cozy.

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jamesnotserious:

What am I getting myself into?

I think it’s called Cornish madness. 

Still game?

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arrangoldstein:

“it’s too early to drink, right?”

I have tequila. 

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arrangoldstein:

“She’s coming over later – to talk. She needed to talk or well, it seemed like she needed too and I couldn’t say no. I mean, I could have but I didn’t want too–”

Do you want more tea?