#witchhoe

[joeylikesspn]

Who up pondering they orb?

[cinna-booty]

Happy #blackout muhfuckas! 🦇

[singedsage]

The me inside of me~

The Me Inside of Me:  how would others describe you?

most of my friends say I have a kind heart. It’s hard for me to see myself out of their eyes...

[charchimedes]

witchhoe replied to your photo “this was meant to be a fancy portrait of me and its taken me all day...”

this is so good!! it looks just like you

aw thank you :>

[neuroweird]

Perion, prompt: Finding a cat in an alleyway. That cat turns out to be somewhat grumpy and snobbish, well, for a cat anyway.

Send me a character & a sentence prompt for a drabble/para response.

At what point does one really have to admit they’re lonely? Perion can, and does so without argument, especially after what she’s been doing for the last twenty five minutes. Instead of going home like she ought to, she’d sat on the ground making kissy noises at a dark fluffy cat with huge yellow eyes. This cat turned out to be a rather grouchy creature.

Despite his upturned head and changeable attitude she had stayed outside in the cool summer night and attempted to win his favour. He was an awful tease; coming just close enough for her to reach, but swatting at her hands whenever she’d try to pet him, even when he’d lay on his back and wiggle. He was clearly testing her. She’s not quite sure if she passed that test, but after those twenty five minutes were up, she’d said a forlorn goodbye to the fluffy grouch and strode the final two blocks to her home.

She considers herself to be a rather observant person, all things considered, but for the life of her she had not sensed any hint of pursuit as she crossed a street and turned a corner-- but by the time she’s finished climbing the stairs to her door a loud meow sounds from below. Perion raises a brow and looks behind her. There at the bottom of the steps is the fluffy grump, and she can’t help but give an exasperated sigh. 

      ❝ Come on. ❞

Perion motions with her hand, but apparently Grumps needs no more encouragement than that, seeing as he bounds up the stairs and into her apartment so fast he looks like a fuzzy brown blur.

[neuroweird]

Aeryn, prompt: Angrily talking to herself while brushing knots out of her hair

Send me a character & a sentence prompt for a drabble/para response.

The sound the brush makes is making her clench her jaw tighter with each pass she makes. It’s an unpleasant ripping sound, and this time she clenches her jaw so tightly that pain flashes through the left side, prompting a slight yelp of discomfort. For thirty long seconds Aeryn doesn’t move, just trying to breathe through the sickening feeling that something horrible will happen if she doesn’t repeat the noise she just made.

Ultimately compulsion wins, and she quietly utters the whimper-yelp a couple more times before she’s satisfied. The dancer takes a deep breath and carefully places her brush on the vanity so that she can take a quick break. She rubs at her sore jaw, still taking deep breaths and decides if she’s going to get anything done she’s going to need to play some music. Helen encourages her to try to function without it, but sometimes it feels like a three way ultimatum and the girl just doesn’t want to deal with that.

Music - Compulsions - Heroin.

Music is probably the safest bet. At least that way she won’t bruise herself or repeat offensive words to avoid the asphyxiating anxiety that consumes her if she doesn’t.

      ❝ This shouldn’t be so hard. I went three hours without music yesterday. But today? Can bare--bare--barely go ten minutes. ❞  

Her words are a quiet grumble as she fetches her iPod from her bag. One of her fellow dancers, and neighbours, Lisa, tells Aeryn she’s too hard on herself, and she’s sure she’s right, but it’s hard not to be when progress and health feel so attainable, only to slip. A good week is going a few hours every day without needing music to calm the compulsions, a bad week is when she can barely function in a conversation without her vocal tics making talking a nightmare.

She sits back down at the vanity, plugging in her iPod to the small speaker next to her jewelry kit and puts on a comfortable instrumental. The sound doesn’t need to be very loud for it to have its effect, and within a minute Aeryn feels relaxed enough to resume brushing her hair. 

      ❝ I really should ask Denise how she manages to get her hair done so fast... I’m probably ripping out hairs with every pass... ❞

Aeryn finds herself grimacing at the idea, and reaches for the ‘detangling’ spray once again. It helps a little bit, but the ripping sound doesn’t quite abate. 

      ❝ You’ve gotta wear your hair down, it’s sexier like that-- ❞

Her parody of the club’s manager is one the other girls are sure to laugh at, tone almost perfect matching the owner’s niece’s borderline nasil voice. Though for all her efforts, the tangles finally come out, and Aeryn gives a gleeful sigh before carefully twisting two french braids into her already dark, wavy hair. The girl stares down at her hairbrush, glowering as she stands up.

      ❝ I do not look forward to the next time we have to meet like this. ❞

[singedsage]

doll!

mmm I already answered this one but

when I was little, I used to collect sticks. And i had a favorite one i’d carry around, but one day, my brother broke it. and he didn’t understand why i was so sad. but he came and found me, and handed me my duck tapped stick, and said “i don’t want you to cry, so here.”

and i dunno. That just always stuck with me about my stick collection.

[ghostbcy]

Fox!

sly eyes, smirks, taut muscles, foreign tongues, muffles songs

send me your name and i’ll answer with 3-5 things it reminds me of