starlightsconstellations

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slumber party

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syd march sensory aesthetics:

smell: bleach, fresh blood, bactine, hospital linens, rare steak with salt and black pepper, isopropyl alcohol 99%, the sweetness of rotting flesh

sound: white noise, sick voice, fire alarm, heart rate monitor, ambulance siren, your therapist asking the head nurse what she is allowed to bring you when she visits and you are not allowed to talk about your feelings lest it interfere with insurance so you tell her about memes and you tell her about tumblr and you tell her about your favorite characters and how you have a hard time distinguishing yourself from them sometimes and she never makes you feel bad or weird or wrong, the echoes your own retching off tile, the splatter of popsicle vomit on the pavement of the santa monica cvs parking lot near your treatment center, your own moans of pain and ecstasy when she digs her stiletto into your guts, your own ragged breath, the harsh and all seeing commands of the staff who hold you down and handcuff you to your hospital bed, her voice. her voice. her voice. the lilt of her fucking voice.

taste: v8 tainted with isopropyl, metallic, fresh meat, blood in your mouth, hospital turkey sandwich no cheese no confinement just bread and dead flesh fucking eat it or fucking starve, cum that tastes of bleach, bleach, creek water cleaned with drops of iodine, the salt of your own tears, the bitterness of a half dissolved half digested 10mg diazepam tablet as it comes back out your throat

touch: hospital linens against itching wounds, ice chips melting and sliding down your throat but never quite enough never enough to satiate your thirst, the feeling of the needle against the soft skin of your inner forearm, piercing, poking, prodding, plotting, the blissful detached numbness of a front-loaded ketamine infusion blossoming in your veins, your queen’s hair tangled within your trembling grasp, the feeling of his flesh severed beneath your fingernails when he dares to think he can throw you off of him, the feeling of rage in her eyes when you’re on top of her and she thinks she should be able to fight you off but you’re just so fucking hungry

sight: her beautiful fucking face. his handsome visage. their echos in your mind, behind your eyes, in your thoughts, dreams fantasies. stapled, sutured, scratched, carved. etched into your mind. the dark red of her sickly blood against her pillowcase. the smear of her lipstick on her phlegm covered tissues. your own pallor, your own lack. the deep purple that explodes across your skin. the contrast of the bruises he leaves you so that you know he loves you.

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well if you incest

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Break Those Bones Whose Sinews Gave It Motion - Submitted by: fastman27

#010F10 #041929 #122659 #2B2FA1 #7838D1 #AF57EB #F777EA

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Embroidered Flower Earrings // Ayumi

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Horse figure of the day: Spirit Riding Free Blind Box Series 2 No. 6

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it's well and truly amazing and you make it all so easy and joyful to do darlings 💛

i love seeing who from your system reblogs which posts my system’s blogs and theorizing about the different ways each person relates to each post

i love figuring who might get along with who, especially from wildly differing sources

i love collaborating internally to figure out how we can approach something more effectively and i love proudly showing your system our findings

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Lily Flower Lamp // Florensa Artisan

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Pouring liquor down your throat while you hump my knee and thank me in between each swallow

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dont care + im the prettiest doll

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fuck her like a princess, treat her like a queen.

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Ship dynamics are always like Sunshine and Sunshine protector~ Cinnamon roll and their grumpy one 🤗 Well what about 2 cunts. They're both cunts and that's the dynamic. cunt4cunt.

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Feelings tonight

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2004

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by g.kayutei