#trustingwitch

IT ISN’T PROPER, to make this kind of show out of herself. Madonna’s always been a messy drunk, perhaps the closest to a functioning alcoholic a girl could be  —--  not that she thought about that often.

She hears the door open from her spot on the sofa, bottle of sherry toppling over as Madonna bolts upright. Glazed eyes seek out the intrusion, and her vision soon settles on the returning Madison.

There’s a half smile on her lips.

i read every single one of ehm

❛     well we’re past that .       ❜      her ego was wounded , in a way . such value had been placed upon the girls that any squirming and writhing was immediately taken as a personal dig against the headmistress , who felt that the likes of council could never properly curtail the misbehavior of her girls . arms folding over the flat of her belly , dark hair piled atop her head begins to slip out of its tenuous clip . she stalks closer , manicured digits grasping and lightly digging into madison’s jaw . 

she’s pretty good at keeping her rage in check . concentrates it into the pupils of her eyes , till they’re burning with acid that drips from her lashes . the witch displays a half smile , watching madison for a few long moments . 

pretty girl , if she hadn’t been so fucked up (  and probably fucked , too  ) .  madonna releases her , figuring that she doesn’t need to charm madison into shoving her finger down her throat . she’ll ask nicely .