Harry Styles & Lizzo | WMYB | Coachella 2022

How i sleep knowing I’ll never bring a child into this world

Black Friday is such a joke nowadays. “Don’t miss out on 30% off” don’t piss me the fuck off. People used to hit each other over the head for a microwave that’s how low the prices were. People literally died. We used to be a country

Harry Styles | Don’t Worry Darling (2022)

august is like the sunday night of summer

Margot Robbie at the European premiere of the Barbie movie. 💓💖

might invite this guy that works at the same school as me I’m crushing on to The Weeknd concert this Thursday with me and a couple coworkers 🤪

Update I did this and my love life was never the same so recommend but also don’t

Idc idc idc I NEEDED to be a fly on this wall

via daylitedreamin

Lovebound - Snowbound Part 012

This is it for now, guys. You guys have waited as long as they have for this, and it feels right. We’ve not seen the last of them, I don’t think. These three and their unit are special to me, and they will be for a very long time. Thank you to every single person who has read/liked/disliked/messaged me/reblogged/the works. You’re superstars, and thank you for believing they could do this with me. I love you. x

Dad Masterlist

Everything has sounded louder all morning – stronger, sharper, and not at all unlike the pain deep in your abdomen feels. Your boisterous boy is always a little rowdy before school, but today he is wearing you down at a startlingly quicker rate.

“Love, please,” you request. “Can you be quiet for Mummy for a bit?”

“Are we having pizza tonight, Mumma?” he asks as he all but bounces behind you.

The idea of gooey, cheesy, tomato-y, starchy pizza makes your stomach roil. Pizza is heavy, and greasy, and salty, and it’s a little slimy underneath the hot cheese and not at all something that is appealing to your belly.

“I don’t know, baby,” you tell him after swallowing down a lump and exhaling slowly through your nose. “We’ll have to see. I think we have something in the fridge to eat still. That roast Daddy made us over the weekend?”

Your son pulls a face and it pinches like he’s about to whine when another wave of nausea hits you. “Mummy’s got to lie down for a bit,” you tell him, the words brittle, as you push away from the counter and walk with shaky legs towards the bedroom.

“What about school?”

Dread hits you with another punch of unease and that twisting sensation deep in you. You sit on your bed while your son hovers in the doorway and you swallow with some difficulty and take a deep breath. “Get my phone, sweetie,” you tell him. “Call your daddy – Harry, right?” you confirm he knows who to call.  

Your son looks so like his father when he’s worried and you smile as best you can and open your arms with some effort. He darts towards them, although somewhat hesitantly, and you give him the biggest hug you can manage.

“Mumma’s fine, ok?” you say. “Just not feeling that good. Got a bit ill, I think.” You brush hair out of his face with numb fingers. “Go get my phone,” you repeat. “It’s in the kitchen.” You kiss his forehead several times before lightly patting his bottom as if to order him to scram.

You wait until after he has left to pull your waste bin close and vomit acidic bile into it. You squeeze your eyes closed and spit remnants into the bin before lying back on your bed with a spinning head and a groan.

This is going to be a long day.

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