francesca @yourshasbeenblue - Tumblr Blog

not the "tumblr swifties" and "twitter swifties" fighting again.. can y'all be productive and work together to eradicate tiktok swifties?

issweeterthanfiction

tiktok is the common enemy guys let’s take them down already

re-pu-ta-ti-on

Me and the girls trying to get taylor back on tumblr:

tearsricochet

funny how taylor walked the streets of nyc for a minute and suddenly i have the will to live again

likeadevils

happy seeing a taylor outfit and running to taylorswiftstyle day to those who celebrate

likeadevils

happy forgetting taylor is in fact very rich and the clothing item you wanted is far to expensive day to those who celebrate

lingeringswift

tiktok doesn’t deserve you. your children miss you @taylorswift

a-g0lden-tattoo

PLEASE 😭

hellooooooo swifties

@taylorswift hello…..

kayleeheartstay

your braids like a pattern, love you to the moon and to saturn <3

lovestory

8 YEARS OF RED October 22, 2012 I see all of these moments in bright, burning, red. My experiences in love have taught me difficult lessons, especially my experiences with crazy love. The red relationships. The ones that went from zero to a hundred miles per hour and then hit a wall and exploded. And it was awful. And ridiculous. And desperate. And thrilling. And when the dust settled, it was something I’d never take back. Because there is something to be said for being young and needing someone so badly, you jump in head first without looking.

treacherous

and when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone’s bed

you put me on and said I was your favorite

juliens-bakery

there’s something really resonant about teenage taylor writing about weddings and banquets and grand gestures, a vision of a life to come; and now adult taylor going back and writing about being a mess of a teenager, where nothing could possibly matter more than showing up on her doorstep and hoping she loves you

lovestory

Folklore (2020). Taylor Swift Stars drawn around scars. A cardigan that still bears the scent of loss 20 years later. Battleships sinking into the ocean, down, down, down. The tree swing in the woods of my childhood. Hushed tones of “let’s run away” and never doing it. The sun drenched month of August, sipped away like a bottle of wine. A mirrored disco ball hovering above a dance floor. A whiskey bottle beckoning. Hands held through plastic. A single thread that, for better or for worse, ties you to fate.