#i’ve been crying for Hours this is enough

[meadowfics]

lockscreen

namgyu x f!reader

who wouldn't put their cute boyfriend as their lockscreen?

warnings: mentions of drug addiction. angst into fluff

this was requested <3

loving namgyu is never hard.

it was the easiest thing in the world, really.

what was hard was watching him destroy himself, knowing that no matter how much you loved him, no matter how much you wanted to save him, he had to want to save himself first.

those first months together were some of the hardest of your life.

namgyu was drowning in his addiction, and you were barely keeping your head above water trying to pull him out.

you spent too many nights waiting up for him, only for him to stumble through the door smelling like alcohol and smoke, eyes red and unfocused.

there were arguments, slamming doors, nights where he passed out before you could even say goodnight.

still, you stayed, because you loved him.

because you saw the man he could be, even when he couldn't.

love alone wasn't enough to fix him.

eventually, after one too many broken promises, one too many nights spent crying yourself to sleep,

you made the hardest decision of your life...you walked away.

not because you stopped loving him, but because you loved him too much to watch him keep destroying himself.

it was during that time apart that namgyu finally decided to change.

he checked himself into rehab, cut off the people who enabled him, and found a new job...one that didn’t have drugs and alcohol in every corner, one that didn’t drag him back into temptation every night.

you didn’t know all of this at the time.

all you knew was that, after months of silence, he showed up at your door sober, steady, and more sure of himself than you had ever seen him.

he told you he was clean. that he had been for months.

most of all, that he still loved you.

taking him back wasn’t a decision you made lightly.

when you looked into his eyes, really looked, you saw the man you had always believed he could be.

that was all you ever wanted.

now, three years into your relationship, things were different.

they were better.

namgyu still had his moments of doubt, but he had grown so much.

he smiled more now, genuine and unburdened.

he let you love him without questioning why you did.

he loved you in return in a way that left no room for doubt.

the two of you never minded using each other’s phones. there were no secrets, no reason to hide anything.

so when namgyu needed to check something online and his phone was charging in the bedroom, he didn’t think twice about picking yours up from the coffee table and unlocking it.

what he didn’t expect was to see a picture of himself staring back at him.

it wasn’t a picture he had taken or one he even remembered being taken.

as he looked at it, his breath caught in his throat.

it was from when you both visited your family in your home country over a year and a half ago.

the golden hour sun cast a warm glow over his face, softening the sharp lines of his jaw.

his black hair, always brushed, looked almost blue under the sunlight.

he looked… healthy.

he remembered that trip well.

it had been just three months into his sobriety.

he had been shaky then, still learning how to exist without numbing himself with substances, still wondering if he even deserved to be happy.

he hadn’t realized you had captured him like this...at a moment when he was still struggling, still doubting himself.

yet, somehow, in this photo, he looked at peace.

he stared at it for a long time, fingers hovering over the screen as a strange feeling swelled in his chest.

“when did you set this as your lock screen?”

his voice came out quieter than he expected, almost hesitant.

you had just stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around your body, damp hair dripping onto your shoulders.

at the sound of his voice, you glanced up, eyes flicking to your phone in his hands.

when you saw what he was talking about, a soft smile tugged at your lips.

“i’ve had that as my lock screen since the evening it was taken.”

namgyu blinked. he looked down at the picture again, then back at you.

“wait, really? but that was… that was over a year ago.”

you nodded, walking over to him.

“yeah. i never changed it.”

namgyu felt his throat tighten. of all the pictures you could have chosen, you had chosen this one.

a picture from one of the most vulnerable times in his life.

a time when he still wasn’t sure if he was worthy of a second chance, of happiness, of you.

yet, you had seen something in him then that he hadn’t seen in himself.

setting your phone aside, he reached for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck.

you smelled like shampoo and warmth and everything safe in the world.

“you’re a great photographer,”

he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin.

you let out a soft laugh, running your fingers through his hair.

“and you’re a good model.”

he huffed out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

“nah. you just make me look good.”

“you make yourself look good,”

you murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

“you always have.”

namgyu tightened his hold on you, his heart full in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.

he had spent so much of his life convinced that he wasn’t enough.

that no one would ever look at him and see something worth loving.

but you did.

you always did.

masterlist

[spideysbruh]

Far Away

warnings- phone sex, masturbation, dirty talk, cursing. if i forgot anything let me know!

~~~~

Y/n and Timothée have a pretty healthy sex life. They have sex at least once a week, and that's not including oral (that's probably once a day… at least) 

So when Timothėe is away filming and Y/n is also away working, they get a little agitated.

Y/n just got to Los Angeles, and Timmy is still going to be away for another few weeks, they haven't seen each other in two months.

That's two months without each other, with nothing but their hands to keep them satisfied.

Y/n is in an Airbnb for the night, since she has a meeting tomorrow with her producer. She sighs as she lays on the bed and looks for a movie to watch before she goes to sleep.

She sees ‘Little Women’ and chuckles at that, deciding to play it. It is a good movie, it’s just a coincidence that her boyfriend is in it.

When Timothée pops up on the screen, she snaps a picture and sends it to him with the message- i miss you.

She sighs and locks her phone, he’s halfway across the world right now and probably in the midst of filming right now. He’s not responding any time soon.

But even with the time zones, they still talk every day, no matter how short the conversations are. There have been days where all they texted each other was ‘love you’ or a picture of something that they found funny.

Y/n keeps smiling whenever Laurie does something that she recognizes, her heart aching due to missing him. Towards the end of the movie, her phone dings, even with it being on do not disturb. Only one person does that to her, Timothée. She hums and checks the notification. He responded.

Maud’dib 🧡- stop. I don’t wanna cry right now :(

She laughs and reacts with ‘haha’ to his message, replying- how’s it going over there?

He responds immediately

Maud’dib 🧡- good. missing you. on lunch right now for two hours. missing you. almost done, few more weeks left. did i mention that i miss you???

She giggles and her thumb hovers over the facetime button but she decides against it, he’s around other people, it’d probably be rude. She instead replies- i thought you didn’t wanna cry ? 😕

Maud’dib 🧡- ahhhhhhh 

She snorts at that, then another message pops up. 

Maud’dib 🧡- wyd right now?

She types- literally nothing. watching you yearn for Amy March rn.

Maud’dib 🧡- well now i’m yearning for you…

Her heart skips at that, it’s been so long. She’s masturbated, but it just wasn’t the same without him. She responds- hmmmmm you need help?

Maud’dib 🧡- fuck yes.

A Facetime from him pops up immediately and she quickly answers it, “Babyyyyy I miss you.” he whines, his face incredibly close to the camera as he pouts. 

“I miss you more, baby.” She replies.

“I haven’t touched myself in weeks.” He sighs. 

“Me either! I’ve tried, but it’s just not good enough.”

“We need each other, huh?” He smugly asks, smirking at her through the camera. She giggles and nods, sitting up in her bed. 

“I’m alone in my trailer, thinking about you… all of you.” The camera is moving around as he presumably unbuttons his pants.

She shoves her hand into her pants, sliding her finger between her folds, “Yeah? What about me?”

He hums, “How beautiful you look when you’re under me, bent over in front of me... and especially on top of me. Your pretty tits sit so perfectly right in front of my face.” He moans, spitting into his hand and then moving it off camera again.

“Fuck, Timmy. I miss how deep your fingers get inside of me.” She groans as she pushes two of her fingers inside her pussy.

He chuckles breathily, “All that guitar practice also helped… show me, baby.” the pet name makes her wetter, making it easier for her fingers to slide in and out.

She whines and pulls down her pants to below her knees before flipping the camera, showing her fingers in her leaking pussy.

His eyes roll back at the sight, “God fucking damn it, baby. You're gonna kill me. I miss that sweet little pussy so much.” 

She clenches around her fingers at his words, trying to imitate the way he curls his fingers inside of her. “Let me see you.” He simply says, which makes her moan.

She brushes against her g spot and whines as she flips the camera back to her, “Fuck, Timmy. Show me what you're doing.”

He flips his camera, his dick in his hand as he slides it up and down, also trying to replicate the way y/n usually does it. “I wish I was inside you so bad, babygirl. You're so fucking tight and warm. Always so wet for me.” He says through his moans, Y/ns hand speeds up along with his hand.

“God, I'm so fucking wet for you, my boy. I wish it was you inside me right now.” She whines as she rubs her clit, Timothée flips the camera back to his face, the camera shaking as he strokes his cock.

“Keep going, baby. I'm so close, fuck it's been so long.” He moans.

“I wish you were with me right now, Timothée. Leaving hickeys all over me and fucking me so hard I'm sore the next day.” They moan in unison as their hands get even faster.

“You're so fucking sexy, y/n/n. I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you the second I get home I swear to god.” He says through his heavy breaths.

“I can't wait.” She moans, “You have no idea how badly I need to cum around your cock, baby.”

“Yeah? I think about cumming on you every fucking day. You always look so pretty with my cum on your tummy. You're a fucking work of art.” He moans, “I'm gonna cum.”

“Me too.” She whines, “I wish I was there to lick it all up.” 

He groans at her words, “Say my name when you cum, babygirl.” 

She rubs her clit faster and cums while moaning his name, which throws him over the edge.

“Y/nnn.” He moans, his eyes shutting as his hand slows down, "God, we've gotta do that more often."

She hums, "We really do."

He looks off camera, “Fuck, I came all over my laptop.”

Y/n giggles as she pulls her fingers out, “We've all been there.” he laughs and shakes his head.

“I'm gonna cum all over you when I get home.” He promises, she can only see his forehead as he reaches for a tissue.

She blushes and licks her fingers, Timothées eyes come back into frame and widen at that, “You're naughty.” 

She blinks innocently at him, “What? I've gotta clean up, too.” She shrugs and lays back down.

He huffs, “That's too much. Officially too much, you're too fucking sexy. How did I get so lucky?” 

She giggles and admires him through the screen, “I wonder the same thing about you all the time.”

“You wonder how I got so lucky?”

She laughs, “Shut the fuck up.” he grins and his whole face comes back in frame.

“Ugh, I miss you bullying me so much.” He sighs, resting his head on his fist.

“Well, three more weeks and it's back to normal.” She giggles, turning to lay on her side, he smiles at her. “Can you stay on with me until I fall asleep?” She softly asks.

He nods, “Of course, my love. I'll just run some lines, okay? Quietly, I swear.” 

She smiles and sleepily nods, “Okay, baby.”

She sees him grab his script and smiles before shutting her eyes. Timothée admires her on his screen before turning back to his script, making notes here and there.

He stays on with her until he has to get back to filming, whispering a quick “Love you” to her before hanging up.

Y/n wakes up early the next day and sees that their facetime was a little over an hour and a half long, making her heart swell.

She sees a text from him, from right after the call ended.

Maud’dib 🧡- had to get back to set, my sweet girl. love you.

*

[dulcescorderitas]

parings: clark kent x reader

song: nothing matters but you by madison beer

warnings: 18+, smut

i don't know how i survived

the rain taps against the old kent farmhouse like an insistent whisper, the kind that seeps into the skin, into the bones. you sit curled up on the couch, knees drawn to your chest, arms wrapped around them like if you let go, you’ll fall apart completely. your breaths are shallow, uneven, and no matter how many times you tell yourself you’re being ridiculous, the weight in your chest doesn’t lift.

before i met you

“y/n?”

his voice is a quiet thing, gentle, warm, so achingly familiar it nearly undoes you. clark stands in the doorway of the living room, socked feet silent against the floor, brows knitted in concern. you don’t have to look at him to know his eyes are soft, filled with the kind of patience and understanding that makes it impossible to keep anything from him.

watching you through glassy eyes

“hey,” you whisper, forcing a small smile. “couldn’t sleep?”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he moves closer, sinking onto the couch beside you. he’s warm, always warm, radiating this quiet, steady heat that makes you want to crawl into his arms and never leave. he nudges your knee with his, tipping his head slightly. “you’re crying.”

sinking into blue

“it’s nothing.”

his expression doesn’t change, but his silence speaks louder than words. clark has never been one to push, but he doesn’t let things go either. he waits, ever patient, ever steady, until you sigh, letting your forehead rest against your arms.

if you never stop me (stop me)

“it’s stupid,” you murmur. “i just—” you exhale sharply, voice trembling. “i don’t know why it’s so hard to say it.”

then i'll just keep falling

he frowns slightly. “say what?”

“that i—” your throat tightens. the words are right there, clawing at your chest, but they won’t come out. the weight of them presses down, heavy and suffocating, until it spills over in another sharp breath, a quiet, shuddering sob.

Nothing matters but you

clark doesn’t hesitate. in an instant, he shifts closer, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against him. you bury your face in his shoulder, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline as his arms tighten around you, anchoring you to the moment, to him.

hold me while i cry (hold me while i cry)

his hand moves gently, soothing over your back, slow and careful, like he’s afraid you might break apart in his arms. “it’s okay,” he murmurs. “i’ve got you.”

swimming underneath moonlight

it’s so easy to believe him. so easy to let yourself sink into the warmth of him, the safety. minutes pass, maybe hours, before your breathing slows, before the ache in your chest dulls just enough to let you lift your head.

taken by the tide (taken by the tide)

his face is close, impossibly close, and you can see every detail—the way his dark lashes frame those impossibly blue eyes, the soft furrow of his brows, the way his lips part slightly like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if he should.

“clark,” you whisper, voice barely more than breath.

nothing matters but you

he swallows. “yeah?”

“i love you.”

nothing matters but you

the words hang between you, a fragile, trembling thing, and for a moment, the world holds its breath. then, before doubt can creep in, before you can take it back, clark exhales, a quiet, relieved sound, and cups your face with both hands.

nothing matters but

“i love you too.”

you make a girl think the world’s only spinning for you

his lips are soft when they meet yours, slow and searching, as if he’s memorizing the way you taste, the way you feel in his arms. his hands stay gentle, fingertips brushing along your jaw, your cheek, like he’s afraid you might disappear.

you belong to me tonight

when you pull back, breathless, his forehead presses against yours, his thumbs tracing soft circles against your skin. “you're mine, princess,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

nothing matters but you

something shifts. the air between you thickens, charged, and when he kisses you again, it’s different—deeper, needier, full of every unsaid word, every stolen glance, every moment that led you here.

nothing matters but you

his hands skim down your sides, careful, reverent, as he guides you back against the couch. his touch never rushes, never demands, only gives, and gives, and gives. he’s patient, unhurried, taking his time to map out every inch of you, like he’s memorizing the way you come undone beneath his fingertips.

nothing matters but

his lips trail down your throat, warm and lingering, pressing soft kisses over the racing pulse at your neck. his hands press against your waist, fingers tracing reverent patterns as he peels away layers of fabric, baring you to him. the heat of his body against yours is overwhelming, grounding, every touch sending slow, aching tremors through you.

you make a girl think the world’s only spinning for you

his mouth moves lower, trailing slow, deliberate kisses down your stomach, worshiping every inch of you. his hands part your thighs gently, spreading you open as he presses a lingering kiss to your inner thigh, teasing, savoring. his breath is warm against your skin, lips ghosting over your most sensitive spots as he whispers your name, voice thick with hunger.

his tongue glides over you, slow and torturous, tracing circles around your clit before sucking it between his lips, his moan vibrating against you. his fingers dig into your hips, keeping you still as he devours you with aching precision, lapping up every drop of wetness, his tongue plunging deep before swirling back up to flick and tease.

he eats you like he’s starving, like he needs this as much as you do, his pace unrelenting yet measured, making sure every stroke, every flick, every hot exhale against you sends waves of pleasure crashing over your body. he groans into you, the sound vibrating through your core, his tongue never ceasing, never slowing until your thighs shake around his head, your fingers buried deep in his dark curls, pulling, pleading for more.

his hands slide up, thumbs brushing over your trembling stomach as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, drinking in every gasp, every breathless plea. he flicks his tongue faster, alternating between deep strokes and gentle teasing, every motion designed to unravel you completely. he wants you lost in this, lost in him, no doubt in your mind that he is yours, and you are his.

he whispers your name against your soaked heat, voice thick with reverence, with possessive devotion, as he keeps going, keeps making you fall apart on his tongue. and when you do, when your body tightens, thighs clenching around his head, when your back arches and his name leaves your lips in a desperate, wrecked cry, he doesn’t stop—he works you through it, lets you ride it out, his tongue still stroking, still loving you, refusing to let you go until he’s sure you feel everything, until there is no part of you left untouched by his devotion.

"i love you" he finishes panting, his mouth wet with your arousal.

nothing matters but you

taglist: @legalmente-loca @soangelbaby

[kathlare]

fast times

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In the middle of a busy day at the McLaren motorhome, Lando Norris stumbles upon Amelie Dayman’s latest music video release. What starts as a casual watch quickly turns into something else entirely as he realizes just how much has changed—and how much hasn’t.

Wordcount: 1.6 k

Warnings: kinda mature content

full masterlist // request over here!

February 25th, 2022 - Barcelona, Spain

liked by schecoperez, emiliamernes, and others

ameliedayman: fast times song/video are out now ❤️‍🔥

i’m always told how fast life goes and to make sure i really live it to the absolute fullest and appreciate the moment I’m presently in, cause we don’t get any rewrites- so i wrote this to remind myself of that and hopefully this song makes you feel that way too.

too many people to thank that help my silly little visions come to life!! so i put them in this scroll

go stream go watch go go go fast fast fast

View all 1,382 comments

madisonbeer: fast fast fast but why does time slow down when I’m staring at u? 🤨 → ameliedayman: @madisonbeer girl be so serious rn 😭

fan1: BLONDE AMELIE SUPREMACY IS BACKKK 🔥🔥🔥 → fan2: @fan1 we won but at what cost 😭 brunetties stay losing

fan3: "fast times" ?? nah cause i’ve been stuck on this post for 3 hours 😭

shawnmendes: this song is actually insane. proud of u always 🤍 → fan13: @shawnmendes SHAWN??? OH WE REALLY IN THE 2014 TIMELINE HUH

stelladayman: so this is what ur hair actually looks like huh?? wild. → ameliedayman: @stelladayman i KNOW u didn’t just expose me like that 😭

jackdayman: i’ve only ever known brunette amelie. who is this stranger. → ameliedayman: @jackdayman don’t be dramatic omg 😩

fan14: the fact that this is just the beginning of the wicked era… we’re so not ready 😭 → fan15: @fan14 nope. we’re DONE. i already feel overwhelmed 😵‍💫

fan9: SHES SO BLONDE. SHES SO HOT. SHES SO TALENTED. HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE GOD’S FAVORITE???

fan5: brunettes just took a major L… but I’m lowkey okay with it 😩 → fan6: @fan5 she didn’t just go blonde, she returned home 🫡

fan7: nah cause she just casually changed her whole identity and dropped a BANGER?? 😭🔥 → fan8: @fan7 glinda era is gonna be dangerous i fear 😳

taylorswift: my pop princess era queen!!! this is a BANGER 👑🔥 → ameliedayman: @taylorswift ur the reason i write songs so. crying now.

florencepugh: the song? the video? the hair? the serve is too strong 😵‍💫 → ameliedayman: @florencepugh ur approval is all i ever needed 😭

-------------

The McLaren motorhome in Barcelona was buzzing with activity as the team prepared for another round of testing. Engineers were going over data, mechanics were discussing car setup, and drivers were in and out of briefings. Lando had just finished a long debrief with his engineers, his body still thrumming with adrenaline from his last stint in the car.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head before grabbing his phone. His group chat with Max and a few other friends had been popping off for the last ten minutes, all of them sending the same link over and over again.

Bro, have you seen this??? No fucking way she did that Holy shit, blonde suits her TOO much

Lando furrowed his brows, clicking on the link. It redirected him to YouTube. The thumbnail alone was enough to knock the air out of his lungs.

Amelie Dayman - "Fast Times" (Official Music Video)

He felt his stomach flip. This was her debut music video. He knew she had been working on her music for years, but he hadn’t actually paid attention to when her first song would drop.

And fuck. She looked stunning. Even in just the thumbnail, she looked unfairly good. Her big green eyes, her lips slightly parted, that undeniable presence she always had on screen. Lando swallowed and tapped play.

The video started with Amelie as a brunette—her hair just the way he remembered it, cascading over her shoulders, looking effortlessly beautiful. The opening shot was cinematic, her sitting in the driver's seat of a car, sunglasses perched on her nose. The song kicked in, upbeat and confident, her voice dripping with charm.

Lando barely registered the lyrics, too caught up in the visuals. And then—

Blonde.

His grip on the phone tightened as Amelie appeared again, but this time her hair was golden, flowing in loose waves, framing her face like she had stepped straight out of a dream. His jaw slackened, heart stuttering in his chest.

What the fuck.

She looked insane. Like, painfully, achingly beautiful. His brain short-circuited trying to process it.

Lando felt heat creep up his neck, his pulse pounding in his ears. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, pressing his lips together as the music video continued. Every shot of her blonde, confident, untouchable—it did something to him.

His mouth felt dry. His palms were clammy against his phone.

She had always been beautiful—he knew that. He had been obsessed with her back when she was brunette, back when she was his. But this?

This was something else entirely.

She looked unreal. Ethereal. And so fucking hot.

Lando sucked in a sharp breath, shifting in his seat. His racing suit suddenly felt way too tight, the fabric pressing against his body in all the wrong ways. He had to blink a few times, drag a hand down his face to try and snap himself out of it.

But the video just kept going.

There was a scene where Amelie was leaning against a car, twirling a lollipop between her fingers, lips slightly pursed in a way that made his mind spiral. Another where she walked through a hallway, her hips swaying, her confidence radiating off the screen. And the final shot? She tilted her head, staring straight into the camera, lips curling into the smallest, cockiest smirk—like she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

—Fucking hell,— he muttered under his breath, adjusting himself in his seat.

This was bad.

Lando didn’t know how long he sat there, phone still in his hand, screen frozen on the last frame of the video. His heart was beating way too fast. His head was spinning. His lower stomach felt tight, hot, needy in a way that he really didn’t need right now.

He swallowed, clearing his throat, trying to will the feeling away. But it wasn’t going anywhere.

He needed to do something about it.

With one last glance around the motorhome, making sure no one was paying him any attention, he pushed himself up from his chair and made his way to his driver's room. His legs felt heavy, stiff, as he walked down the hallway. He barely registered the greetings from the team members he passed, only nodding in response before slipping inside and locking the door behind him.

His chest rose and fell in deep breaths as he leaned against the door for a second, squeezing his eyes shut.

This was insane. He shouldn’t be reacting like this.

Amelie wasn’t his anymore.

But fuck, she had to know what she was doing. She had to know how good she looked.

With a low groan, he pushed off the door and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

Yeah. He was gonna need a few minutes.

[stillagoodwitch]

repeating the sentence “i’m a person” in my head to prepare for my parents visiting

[seilon]

love when this is referred to as the gifted kid website. shockingly my mental disorders made me mentally disordered and school never really vibed with that so. couldn’t be me

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It

[cybervom1t]

i hate getting sappy on main but i think things are actually gonna be okay, y’know?

[vcnom]

I could simply cry forever

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

honestly if all the people over my many years of living were in fact correct in their horrible horrible assumptions I was the most evil despicable inhuman person.

I’d still not care,

does the dog that bites because it’s only known pain evil?

Is the cat that kills a bird to show you it’s love evil?

is the plants that grow through the pipes in the ground cracking and puncturing them evil?

is the curious shark evil for taking a inquisitive bite?

Are the strikes that take the young and skewer them on thorns evil?

are the parasites that depend on its host evil for having no choice?

Am I evil or unsavory, who knows.

but if people wish to dehumanize me I shall make myself happy with the creatures you call evil, the ones who are scary and cruel the ones who hurt and chew and claw.

for we are one in the same, and I will happily accept that from you.

[skhardwarevers1]

that feeling when you want to post a rant/vent but it just feels like another attempt to get attention <<<<<<<<<(x one million)

[elysiumcalled]

I feel like i have to go on this work trip even tho I really don’t want to and I’m being pushed for an answer but no feels like I the wrong answer (not wrong for me but wrong to my boss) 😭😭 help I feel so pressured LOL

[callixton]

it is the second week of class and i have been up until at least 3 am multiple days

[placeinthisworld]

pls elaborate on how the brand became icky? im interested in that

ever since tn took a step away from taylors merch and branding, everything is a fucking cheap cash grab. quality of merch and customer service has been absolutely shit, yet the PUSH and constant limited edition/ only available here/ signed items that are ALWAYS brought back is just so annoying!!! UMG has made collecting merch so miserable it’s not even worth it anymore. The quality of a majority of the merch released lover- present is astronomically priced and almost ridiculous???? like who’s paying $25 for a metal keychain???? what about a set of four coasters?? but don’t forget you have to pay sales tax plus shipping, plus you have to wait 6+ months for all the items in your cart to ship (unless you choose ship separately, which is like $20+ extra to get your items shipped when they’re ACTUALLY available). It feels like Taylor is only on social media when she has something to promote or sell and it’s like I don’t feel like I’m supporting my fav artist anymore, she’s a millionaire and she’s Taylor Swift™️ now and not just like….taylor!! like I want to be supportive and I’ve built my life around this blonde girlie but everything just feels so icky.

like, they definitely thrive off of fomo and the cult/ hive mind of swifties :/

[rosesradio]

.

[hotroadkill]

today 2 years ago i was in america and i had the worst hangover of my life and i was in a waffle house with my friend in awkward silence bc we’d fought in a stranger’s kitchen the night before and the server refilled my water for the 5th time while i fought to swallow half a forkful of hashbrowns and she said “i know that look, y’all had a good time at the superbowl last night” and i was thinking actually we had a mediocre time at a nerd bar where u throw darts and all the drinks r named weird things and anyway my friend gives the fakest laugh ive ever heard followed by “yep we sure did” like are we in a CW show right now what was that line delivery and also what even is the superbowl i was born here and should know but honestly i’ve always just pictured everyone gathering at a comically large bowl of cereal but her nametag says leslie and she’s really nice and she’s refilling my water for the 6th time so yeah sure whatever i’m a red blooded american i’ll be anything for leslie in this moment anything and she tells us stories about working at bars downtown and my friend tells me bad jokes and i feel a little better even though my heart is kind of withering away because my flight is in 17 hours and theres not enough time never enough time i won’t see him for another year and a half and i won’t ever see leslie again and if i ever run into the italian stranger who fell in love with me over darts then it won’t be the same because we won’t be dancing and i’m sitting in a waffle house while the sun sets and i’m sweating gin and tequila and my flight is in 16 hours and i have so many goodbyes to say in this

city because when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the fracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out much less back together but i feel like ive been trying for eight years all the same and my flight is in 15 hours but maybe if my friend brings me home now i can spend three of those looking for more shards even though i’ll cut my hand because time never wore down any of the hurt because time might heal wounds but it cant really do jack shit about a metaphysical glass shard its still gonna make me bleed and my friend brings me home and we curl up beside each other in my childhood bedroom thats too small for us it was really a supply room but it became my bedroom when i was eleven and i painted it blue and put up stickers of fish and never took them down but someone someday will take them down and hopefully the house burns to the ground before anyone can touch them theyre mine i grew up here theyre mine dont touch them dont please dont please please please i grew up here and my flight is in 12 hours now because i fell asleep beside my friend and he let me because he knew i needed it he kept watch even though we dont have time we never do because he has to go now and all i can give him is a hug and my hoodie to keep safe until i can see him again and fight him in a stranger’s kitchen again and the sun is gone now and i go and i sit with my dad and my flight is in 10 hours and im trying

not to cry im trying to stare at the stickers because maybe if i look at all of it hard enough i’ll get to stay but i dont because thats not how it works and now my flight is in 4 hours because i fell asleep in my childhood loft bed and now i have to leave i have to pack up and go for the fifth time and it never never gets easier and i know i only have a few more trips left until someone takes my stickers down and paints over my ocean but for now my best friend’s stepmother comes with me and my dad to the airport because my best friend is in college two states away and my flight is in 3 hours and i cry i cry so much and she cries too because she loves me and i think it is such a beautiful blessed thing that i am so loved but oh it is so painful too because i spend more time in its absence than its presence and my flight is in 2 hours and i have to go and my dad is waving goodbye and i see it because i looked back because im stupid i always look back i never look forward i’m forever walking blind through my life because i’m looking back and i can tell my dad is crying and now i have to go through TSA sobbing and it’s awkward because they ask are you okay kid and im not but i cant tell them sorry its just that when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the cracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out i cant tell them that so i nod yes im okay and i go and my flight is in 1 hour and i hope it fucking crashes and my flight is in the air and im so far away from all those shards on the kitchen floor now but they’re hurting me all the same and i think i look kind of insane sobbing in the middle seat but how can i miss so many people and so many rooms at once and not lose my mind a little bit? i was going to tell you a short witty little joke about the time i realized i was 21 and didnt know what the superbowl was but i think i slipped on a shard. i’m sorry. maybe next time i’ll get it right. maybe in another two years. maybe you’ll never see me again. maybe this is all the time we had.