#adult life being shitty

[lonelysucker7]

Strangers on a Train

Pairing: Kaine Parker x gn!Reader!!!! Might be even the first one lol.

Summary: You’re just an average person making their daily living, surviving adulthood as it is. You live in Houston, Texas where even the hero the Scarlet Spider lives. And then there’s a guy, who looks like he’s gone through hell, on a train you’re crushing on.

Word count: 4.6k

Reader is a bit insecure but still shown to have confidence in themselves. Tried making this as neutral as possible and let me know if I need to make any adjustments or corrections! And tell me what else to add in the tags as I am so unsure! This is not edited by anyone. Reader is between 20-30.

Warnings: Profanity (for those who don’t tolerate it), mentions of violence, angst

Anywho enjoy!

⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴

You lived alone.

Practically an adult now, not needing anyone to worry about you. At least that’s how you felt trying not to doubt your new independent life. Your parents suggested one of them could live with you temporarily until you felt truly ready.

Did they not trust you enough?

Trying to ease their worries by saying how you would be fine and how your job helped keep you financially stable, was more than enough to take the hint you didn’t need them.

And yet… the little kid inside you berated you for being so stubborn and perhaps wrong at your choice. You practically dismissed what may have been more than a helping hand. Or something. And not only because you were confident finding your way around purely by instinct but the fact you alone moved far away from home— landing yourself in Houston, Texas.

Why out of all places, you’ll never understand.

Maybe because like most popular states in the United States of good ol’ America, Texas was politically wild. Always something new coming up in controversial and culturally relevant ways. It applied the same to Houston. It was grand. It was sophisticated and complicated. It was intimidating. You’ve only been there once in your life to visit a relative and somehow that experience never left you. It stayed.

It was perfect for you, your siblings said. You were complicated enough already, why not move to a place that met people of your type? Most nights as you stared at the popcorn patted ceiling, you mulled on their words with a dumb grin on on your face. A new form of excitement you began to secretly crave outside your typical hometown awaited in Houston. Outside of your own comfort zone being a ‘neighbor next door.’

In school, many of your fellow peers and teachers saw your potential leaving and pursue anything that outweighed them career wise. The big bucks waited for you. For others, they might have envied you to your grave as you gained immense approval that they could not. In your chair as spoken approval words filled the air, the sharp stares of fellow students stabbed around your body.

What a goody two shoes… what a liar… you weren’t better than anyone.

I’m sorry, leave me alone, you thought painfully to yourself. Your nails forcefully digging a little on your thighs. Yet you smiled all the way through.

Through a series of obstacles that included breaking up with childhood friends reducing to one trusted, a close call with drugs, off and on flirting with peers you thought had something going on but never resulted in anything, and maybe a couple drinks that you sneaked in your system…you graduated high school with average grades and made your way to college. You left everyone behind. And you felt nothing but pure numbness that eventually emotions caught up to you three days later. Not that you let anyone know.

College was the first time you felt your parents had trusted you with the most faith they had in their children. It was far away from where you lived, breathing new air and feeling the change of atmosphere as you walked around campus. Occasionally you called your parents and siblings to check up on you and them in return. College gave you a taste of what independence was, some form of responsibility that only you felt could navigate yourself through the ups and downs.

And it surprisingly tired you. But it was okay, you assured yourself. Somehow you’ll make it just fine.

You always did.

…………..……………………………………………………………

BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEPPPP— SLAM!

6:00 A.M.

The alarm had abruptly woke you up with a start. That horrible sound of the typical ‘beeps’ that only grew louder by the second if you ignored it until it finally wakes up your ignorant ass. You slammed it with a hand, a low grumble emitting from your lips as you flexed your palm from the stinging pain. Must you live in such a way? Sure. You could’ve used your phone instead, whereas provided you with elegant ringtones not needing to stress you and make your morning hell.

But no. You’d only feel too relaxed, feeding more pleasure to sleep than waking you up to fullfill another uneventful but still lively day.

Another day in Houston, your mind mumbled to itself. This wasn’t college anymore. Now you were a full time working adult.

So you woke up, turning your body on your back as your eyes scanned the room. Surprisingly unlike back at home, the sunshine here arrived early. Light peaked through the white satin curtains and filled the bedroom with a happy glow of orange hues. You took in the soft noise of a fan running in the background to keep you fresh in the night. After all the temperatures here weren’t merciful to your body.

Your eyes squinted a bit moving another direction of the room, taking in the sight of your desk becoming more untidy. Pens, paper, a couple of thumbtacks, and paper clips spread across the surface calling to be cleaned up. You frowned a little from the sight. You weren’t messy most of the time. You had to do something about it later. Eventually you set your sights on a calendar from across the room. A big red circle marked in about a week from today, black bold letters scattered over the number as if there was much enthusiasm to give but you clearly knew what it was.

Your birthday! A small half smile crossed your lips as the thought settled in. Obviously you would get phone calls from your family in the next upcoming days so it won’t be too hard to go forget.

Okay that’s it. A small giddy feeling bubbled in your chest and you felt it was enough to start your day. You squirmed a bit on the bed, stretching your stiff muscles from your arms and legs (even getting an ankle spasm scare hah), and sat up. From the heavy warm cotton blanket you were comfortable underneath, your body departed with a goodbye as you got off the bed.

………………………………………………………………………….

6:15 A.M.

You pulled down your boxes of cereals from the cabinet trying to debate which one was better, eventually sticking with the colorful “Lucky Charms”. Shuffling your way to the living room, you grabbed a chair and dragged it to you sitting down with the cool bowl in hand.

As you ate comfortably, your hand reached for the remote of the T.V and flipped through the channels. Various channels displaying morning cartoons, advertisements for useless things, and then…

BREAKING NEWS: THE SCARLET SPIDER DOES IT AGAIN!

Your eyes widened a little as you watched the hero of Houston swing down in front of what must have been a shootout and (you couldn’t help but laugh) watch him grab a couple civilians from the scruff of their shirts and toss them out of the way. Live coverage from earlier you figured as the background barely showed any sunlight. Seemed that the activity happened near by the Houston Zoo.

It was comical the way he did his work. Munching on your breakfast you observed how flexible and fast he was, noting the red and black suit hardly become untouched by the flying bullets. The camera ducked down behind injured cars, capturing the action in jagged movements and you heard a breathless reporter talking to the station.

“We’ve obviously seen Scarlet fight before, but this— this absolutely boggles your brain. I mean just look at those fists, and those — oh my god, did you see that?! That guy just sliced a finger off!”

The cereal in your mouth almost spat out as you jumped seeing the Scarlet Spider whip his head around to face the camera and jumped from a lengthy distance and landed in front of the car they hid. The cameraman let out a strained yelp as he clutched the camera, daring to raise it up… to his figure.

Shit, you had enough fans in your home but seeing him in his suit and muscles practically stretched out from his work absolutely made you sweat. The red glare of his lenses reflected back the image of the camera and his fists were clenched seriously by his sides. A smug smile and dumb giggling got you choking on your cereal, even more so when the hero grabbed the reporter and the cameraman in the air.

With all that strength, you could imagine it wasn’t a problem. The camera panned down at the Scarlet Spider; him shaking just the minimal. Heavy breaths sounding hot and stuffy from his mask were heard through the camera as the hero finally spoke

“THE F——…?! What, doesn’t this scream to you ‘Save your a—es?’ Stop recording and get yourselves out of here! Move it!”

His ragged breathy words sent chills to your spine. He seethed it with so much intensity that it was harsh, it was intimidating… maybe even a bit sexy. You swallowed a spoonful of those bastard little marshmallows, making a face as you felt them enter a wrong tube.

More popping noises of guns in the background could be heard, and the Scarlet Spider dropped both men on the ground as he returned with a growl to his work. The cameraman and his fellow reporter somehow managed to escape the scene unharmed, and unsurprisingly they laughed the whole situation off.

“Wow, that was… quite the experience! Better write that part in my resume, huh Mark? Not that it matters…”

Your sights still drifted to meet the cameraman’s focus from a now safer distance still catching the action happening. The Scarlet Spider grabbed a gun out of a mobs hand and flipped it to punch him with the butt of it, then grabbed another man and slammed him into a wall.

You noticed the time and it was almost 6:30. Sighing as you left the table, you quickly washed your dish without much to think and placed it aside. As you moved to the bathroom, the T.V in the background still exclaimed the success of The Scarlet Spider and tried to get a word from him. Of course, nothing.

In the shower, you reminisce the Scarlet Spider and his unusual style of being a hero. You didn’t know if it was normal, but it was something that you found yourself thinking about most of the time.

Earlier when you meant by how comical he worked, you meant to say how strangely funny the Scarlet Spider worked with fists and not the webs he had on him. Unlike Spider-Man in New York, you noted silently how it seemed that the Scarlet Spider intentionally brought himself to face the danger. Made contact directly with the person, stepped in and pushed away whatever morals he may have (or not at all) and went down with it in a brutal way.

Didn’t seem he’d shy away from a bloodbath. Rather he welcomed it. He was different. You were aware of the supernatural forces that Houston encountered now and then and his webbing seemed to have only been useful then. For now, with the normal civilian and criminal, fists were his only friend.

Warm water poured on your back, slid down to your feet as you pondered on a single thought.

Who was he?

…………………………………………………………………………

7:15 A.M

Once after a rather lengthy shower, you changed into your work clothes and kept your eyes on the clock. Your work required you to travel by commuting on a train so it was necessary to arrive sharp on time. One thing you learned arriving in Houston were people, elderly and youth fought for a seat. No one liked standing just to sway from the movement of the train whenever it stuttered to a stop. It was just painfully awkward.

You chuckled at a memory that resurfaced from your dense brain. On the day of your first ride, you had a job interview and as you reviewed the paperwork in your hand, the train stopped and caused the papers to fall out of your hands. You were one of the unlucky ones standing that day. You remembered how you had to get on your knees and mumbling apologies that fell on deaf ears just to get your papers back in your hands. Even more so you felt embarrassed as one stranger grabbed a full fist of them and shoved them on you.

You didn’t catch who it was, but you faintly remembered scars on their hands and you raised your head to see who it was. And no one with scars in their hands seemed to be in sight. Maybe they left abruptly as soon as the train stopped.

But despite the wrinkles on the paper and leaving you mad all day, you were thankful they were all there. And thankful to the stranger who bothered to help when no one else could…

………………………………………………………………………….

Making sure you had everything in your worn out duffle bag, from your lunch, extra pencils, and some other miscellaneous item, and a last minute check of your face by the mirror, you hurried out of your apartment.

You were greeted by the warm morning sunshine glaring down at you, and you responded to it with a little smile. For a second you fumbled with the keys as you locked the door and then quickly moved down the brittle metal stairs, feeling the wind blowing your still showered head.

Some of the neighbors that stood outside their lawns mowing the grass greeted you and you automatically greeted back, quickly picking up more speed on your footing to avoid conversation. They were all very friendly and who had noticed you new and fresh to the neighborhood. But even so you couldn’t help but notice a couple of them stare at you with a feeling of uncomfortable interest. For now as they didn’t say or do anything out of line, you were safe.

You crossed the streets with a little jog as the pedestrian light turned white with the little person, eyeing the cars almost with a suspicion never knowing if they suddenly moved an inch of their car. You made it safely, continuing to jog to the station just about 5 minutes left from where you were.

The morning was still early, but Houston jumbled and rumbled with life. You could hear the distant drilling of concrete from a construction site, the vendors preparing their carts with a sizzle of their grills, and kids goofing past you on their way to school. Today seemed to be a good one, and you clenched your duffle bag close to you with the faith on set.

7:45 A.M. and finally you arrived on time at the station. Out of breath you leaned on a post to calm down your racing heart and gulped cool air to your lungs. You ignored the people next to you staring at you oddly and took your time breathing (maybe even exaggerating just for your own amusement.) As if breathing wasn’t normal, good god.

But you pulled out your wallet, lining up behind a couple people as they stood in front of a machine that gave them their ticket depending on the train they were to aboard.

The METROrail was a system you had difficulty understanding at first, figuring out the routes and time through trial and error. It took a while but overtime you got into routine and it became familiar to you. You were young, but old enough to remember something that big made you proud. You could have bought a pass sure, but there were METRO police officers who usually got on board the train and checked either way if you truly got on. No one could be sure.

But you were going to take your usual. “The Red Line” as the station coined it was a more popular route that took everyone to the main destinations in the important parts of Houston tourist attraction. Hence the morning train being full of people. The train passed by districts, medical centers, museums, etc with ease.

In fact a museum, you worked in one to anyone’s shock. To be more precise the Museum of Fine Arts as a tour guide to youth and anyone who cared.

As soon as you got your ticket in hand and waited by the sideline, you flipped your wrist to check the time on your watch.

8:00 A.M. Where was that—ah.

At last the train arrived in all its glory, breaks making that familiar soft screech on the pavement. The doors opened with a swift movement with the cool air of a running AC inside. You realized how suddenly the weather outside must have gotten hot already, the sun now burning on the back of your body.

You waited a few moments, politely letting a group of ladies with children and a man in a wheelchair get on first. Eventually it was your turn, getting on with ticket in hand and small stepping a bit behind people. Once on board your first instinct was to find a seat. And what do you know.

A seat.

You sat your bum immediately down, a silent cheer of happiness as you completed the first part of your morning with no trouble. Well your face showed a smile and a hint of smugness as you eyed those standing. Even better your seat was right close to the exit. You let yourself relax on the seat, the chill of the AC cooling you.

And then you were off.

………………………………………………………………………….

Whenever you boarded the light rail train, you kept to yourself. You liked talking, but most of your conversations seemed to end abruptly or fade once the other person drifted off. You once tried engaging in a conversation with a man next to you asking for helpful survival tips when you were new to Houston, but he waved a hand saying a mere

“Sorry, I’m just not feeling it today. Bother someone else okay?”

And you did. But the same thing happened, you might as well you quit trying and figure it out yourself. Sometimes you went back to that thought: If any of your parents lived with you, would things be simpler? Maybe. That way they’d immediately get their answers from connections and some sort of extroverted communication to anyone. They were good at that sort of thing.

You sighed, brushing that thought away. Now you were bored.

For fun you did one of the few: checked your phone to read the latest pointless celebrity gossip, the weather, politics, your messages, just adult stuff. Or you observed the people who rode the train with you, different or new. You weren’t afraid to think you had favorites. Of course you did.

There was a elderly woman in her mid 60’s who smiled to herself as she read an absurdly erotic novel with the typical hot, young, hair shoulder length blonde cowboy on the cover carrying a pretty woman in his strong muscles. Oh and shirtless too, how can you forget. The woman was a regular, often waving at you occasionally as she saw you but never engaged in conversation. Sometimes you picked up a heavy scent of vanilla? Jasmine? Well she reminded you of your mom somehow.

Then there was a wannabe DJ, a young man in his early 20’s sitting in between two men with newspapers in hand, as he jammed his head to a tune in his headphones. You often saw him chatting out loud as he bothered a stranger next to him about the plans of becoming a musician and tried showing off his set. And you felt bad as the rest on the train argued with him to silence his instrument. But you admired his determination.

And finally… him.

He sat alone in a corner, a heavy serious expression on his face as he snoozed. A rather buffed guy in his late 20’s you assumed. His arms were crossed, stretching the material of his black sweater in small wrinkles and you wondered what had him so bothered. Or was he like that already?

You stared at him a little more, watching his sleeping figure lean onto the wall, his gloved hand coming up to scratch his stubble alongside his jaw. You don’t remember if he was there the first time you rode the train but if he was you did feel somewhat upset never to notice him.

A man with shaved growing brown hair, you thought he rocked in it so well unlike most. You could tell he was very tired, noticing dark circles forming around his eyes. Perhaps he took the train home, maybe working at night as he was always here hours before you. Sometimes he didn’t ride at all. For someone so young, he seemed to have seen worse days. His face changed every time you saw him. Either he was covered in dried up blood near his lip, a swollen bruise under his left eye, or a bunch of unicorn themed bandages stuck unevenly on his face. What did stay the same were a few peppered scars across his face. You felt yourself start smiling.

He’s really handsome.

You shifted in your seat as your brain whispered that confession, even glancing at him to see if he may have read your mind. As if. But his injuries left you concerned all the time, the urge to ask him if he was okay stayed on your tongue. Did he not have anyone to tell him anything at home? A family? A…significant other? Nope, better not start getting there. Your thoughts moved on trying to take in another thing from him. Standing out to you as amusing was something in his expression as he slept.

He frowned in his sleep. Almost pouting, as his bottom lip jutted out a little and his dark thick eyebrows knitted together. Not many people frowned from your knowledge, so you’d always ask yourself what he was thinking. And he gave you the vibe that he was intimidating. The clothes he usually wore weren’t, just a simple black leather jacket or sweater, a plain t-shirt of any color underneath and blue weathered out jeans with work boots. His hands were covered in leathered gloves, and you didn’t piece together a reason. It was summertime, the worst time to wear gloves at all. Unless it was for a job? He did look like he worked hard for a living. Yet the opinion didn’t stick the same for others. Most of the time the people standing stared at him with unease and maintained a distance away from him. Like if he were some sort of thug.

He just slept peacefully. And you liked that.

You wondered if he knew this was common for him. To be seen in some sort of inferior way. You shook your head, knowing you were assuming way too much.

Never once have you made a move to talk with him, unsure if he’ll take it in a friendly way. You always wanted to, sometimes lingering your stare on his sleeping form way too much for the sake of moving. The questions always burning with curiosity. Butterflies always formed in your stomach whenever you rode the train, taking a seat near or far from him. You were always daydreaming what would have happened you were lucky enough to sit next to him. However they weren’t good ones. The what-if’s filled your mind

What if he doesn’t like me already?

What if he gets annoyed that I talked to him first?

What if I’m the reason he stops riding this train?

The thoughts were loud in your head, making you clutch your bag with a nervous swallow. And suddenly the weight of stupidity fell on you.

You weren’t anyone to anyone here on this train. Much less to him. You didn’t know each other. You didn’t understand why it mattered to you.

You were both strangers on this train.

Traveling to a destination that drops you off without much of a beat.

DING!

Your thoughts were broken when the train stopped. Was it your stop already? Your head turned upwards towards the little sign on the doorway that indicated the stop. And the robotic voice of the announcement made itself clear.

No… it wasn’t yours. It was his.

Both your eyes met as he finally awoke and briefly seemed to take in your presence from across the cart. You felt yourself freeze and unable to look away, blood rushing from your neck to your ears. Your heart thrummed excitedly and yet terrified against your chest. He just simply blinked and the corner of his lip made a funny jump pulling back. You couldn’t tell what that meant but his deep brown eyes seemed to tell another story.

Like they said, “Fuck off.”

He reached down his seat, pulling out a backpack of sorts and slung it over his shoulder. There was another thing that always impressed you when he stood.

It was his height.

Good grief… He practically towered everyone here. What was he? 6’2? 6’4? Whatever he did for a job must have been easy with a height like that. No doubt it made you feel small. The only con there was for him unfortunately the ceiling of the train itself. He needed to duck his head just by an inch to get out. You weren’t sure what the average height for a person in Houston but whatever it was certainly did not meet his standards.

He stood up from his seat, moving towards the exit that happened to be next to you.

Oh no.

To your silent panic, the door was being stalled by the man from the wheelchair, a train assistant putting down the accessible ramp for him. That wasn’t a problem, no it was okay. Just the fact he was now lingering next to you as he waited to exit, your knees almost touching his leg.

You lowered your eyes to your duffel bag on your lap, playing mindlessly with the pins of popular bands you loved. You could feel his stares looking down at your head, and you didn’t want to look up. Oh my god why did this have to happen…?

But eventually the group of people who were waiting for the whole process to finish began to move. His legs disappeared from your sight in front of you, now moving to the exit.

The doors closed, and now your stop was on its way. You didn’t want to look back. But you did. You looked behind you from out the window, and as the train moved, saw the back of his figure walking away from the station. Head down with his legs producing smooth strides as he shoved his hands in his pockets. Even his hips swayed a little.

Huh. He had some sass to his walk.

You returned to your original position in your seat, exhaling a breath you didn’t know you held. Was it really that scary? Hell yeah it was.

Some impression you made there. Must have been a pain for both of you, but much more for him. Your thoughts kept drifting back to his eyes. They held so much intensity you could tell they judged you in some way, silently looking for a reason to even bother looking at you at all.

Was it personal? Did he actually seem to show some interest in you or was it nothing? Whatever it was, you chose not to assume immediately. He just seemed like he had a bad day. That’s all…

Time passed by so quickly, you arrived to your stop in no time. The Museum District. And off the train went as you left the station. From there you kept grounding a simple reminder:

Stop overthinking, overreacting, you are a damn adult! That’s kid stuff!

You grind your teeth, as you climbed the steps to the Museum and opened the door to enter.

But one thing was clear. One thing you finally understood from this whole thing of complicated absurdity. It wasn’t even hard. You just simply refused to accept it.

You entered the locker room, placed your bag inside and pulled out your ID card. Closing the locker door you made your way outside the room to start your day. As you exit, you swung the door closed with a rough slam to it.

Admit it will you?

You sighed.

You had a crush on this stranger.

⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴⚫️🔴

11/18/23

Hey… thanks for reading this :)

I don’t know if I’ll put out another chapter, but we’ll see okay? Bye.

Edit: Chapter 2 is up

—-LonelySucker7

[rookflower]

you see, i don't hate ivypool, but i also think dovewing should be legally allowed to kill her if she ever wants to at this point because come on

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

The whole discourse about the privacy/secrecy/support thing has been sitting with me for a few days (I mean other than it always does to a certain degree) thanks to all the excellent discussion happening and I know I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said a million times before, but I think what we're seeing and what we're going to learn (e.g. from TTPD) is that it wasn't just the support issue, but how it was shown/handled.

We've all gone out of our way to show that introversion =/= lack of support. Someone can be shy, reserved, etc. and still show up for their partner, whether in public or at home. To chalk any of the differences up to the clash between introversion and extroversion is unfair to folks who count themselves among either tbh.

@thisisctrying said something the other day that hit the nail on the head about how if that support had been offered in private, there very well may not have been a Joever to begin with, or at least not at this point in time. (Sorry for loosely paraphrasing, and for namedropping you! Long time listener, first time poster.)

If this were a case where the "shy" partner said, "I am really uncomfortable with the spotlight personally and do not want to court it, but I will support you in your ambitions and offer you whatever you need to make them happen and make the glare bearable," I suspect that would have gone a long way to making Taylor feel seen and comfortable in pursuing her goals in the way that she now has. Again, that might have been more akin to the balance that seemed to have been struck around 2019 from what we can see, but even speaking in a general sense, there are lots of couples out there, celebrity or not, that have similar approaches where there are highly driven people and busy careers involved.

(A famous example being Dolly Parton's marriage. Tbh I know next to nothing about her and Carl, but she's always heralded as an example in this regard, because her husband is famously uncomfortable with the spotlight and hasn't accompanied her to public events in decades, but she's said that she never minded that because that was always work to her, and what was important was that he supported her in pursuing all her career goals and basically ensured she had a place to call home to return to at the end of the day.)

We're kind of in a brave new world with her current relationship because it felt like, at least at the start, we were maybe watching her figure out her boundaries in real time as to what she was comfortable with or not and adjust accordingly. Like so many have said, I fully believe the extreme privacy thing was initially driven by herself and her experiences in 2016, and she needed that quiet time to recover from all of the things and figure out how to exist in the world again.

Stating the obvious, it seemed like eventually privacy was equated with secrecy, turning the relationship and the celebrity into the elephant in the room and something to never be spoken of to the outside world. People are free to choose whatever works best for themselves and their relationships, and for some the separate public lives might work, but the “kept me like a secret but I kept you like an oath” theme is all over her work and it’s clear that it’s a sore spot for her, because she’s been made to feel shame just for the life she leads so many times in the past.

What I’m trying to say is that it’s pretty obvious something Not Great was happening behind the scenes, which didn’t just amount to “she wanted to be a public celebrity and he wanted to be a private hermit.” (Also, in case anyone forgot, this is a person who also chose a public-facing career who also has to engage in press for it, but I digress.) As her career reached new heights post-folklore, if she had the support at home to do all the things without judgment and with encouragement, and in turn offer the same support to her partner, she may have very well lived just fine with that, not unlike Dolly Parton’s case.

By reading between the lines in all the press since, as well as comments on tour and general ~vibes~ with TTPD teasers, it seems like one of the issues was that that was likely not the case. There was all the stuff that we saw — the reticence to acknowledge each other in the media (particularly on one side), the lack of public support even at events at which they were both in attendance for their respective jobs, the great lengths they went to not to be photographed together at events they attended yet no problem taking pictures with other friends and coworkers, the jobs that separated them, the withdrawing from the public even for work accomplishments, etc. Which could all be manageable if a couple chooses to do so together and are not inherently a sign of trouble in themselves.

But what we’re seeing now I think is a reflection of the things we weren’t seeing then, and it seems to indicate some very deep hurt. (I know, call me Captain Obvious.) And like so many have been saying, it feels likely that that part of that hurt is rooted in that very lack of private support where a person would expect it from their partner. Obviously as a Taylor fan blog I’m going to be more inclined to understand her side of a story, but tbh, it’s also because… this is sooooooo common, and something I’ve experienced in my friend group. (@taylortruther is right when she says most breakups are the same one way or another lol.)

One partner is resentful of the other’s success, or resentful that the other’s priorities begin to evolve as new experiences unlock new goals, or feels the other’s ambitions are not worthy of pursuit, and coupled with perhaps their own struggles in the same domain, it’s easy to see where that can chip away at the other partner’s morale and faith in the relationship. I know I’m just speculating here, but I also don’t think it’s totally unfounded. (Again, because a) I’m picking up what she’s putting down and b) it happens to sooooooo many women even among us dull normals.)

With all the pointed mentions about how much Taylor feels supported in her current relationship and how she in turn loves to offer the same show of support to not only her partner but other loved ones, how she’s stepped out more in the last year to a whole host of events, how she’s mentioned feeling like she locked herself away for years and she’s just proud of her partner and happy she can show up for him even if the chaos around it is unsettling, it paints a picture of what perhaps was happening before last year.

To feel like you’re all alone in carrying the weight of the relationship (or burden of it), of twisting yourself into knots to accommodate the other person’s boundaries (or insecurities) but not feeling reciprocity for your own has to be so painful. (The idea that it may have been even darker and to have a partner not only be unreceptive to your own needs but even perhaps resentful/dismissive/belittling of them is even more painful to think of. I guess we’ll find out when TTPD comes out if that was the case, too.)

At a certain point, that lack of acknowledgement will force your hand to be able to reclaim yourself. And it feels like the further removed Taylor in particular is from it, the more she moves from being sad about the life she felt she gave up by leaving, to angry at the life she felt she was giving up by staying. Especially being in a relationship now where it seems like everything comes much easier, where she can be open about the person she’s with and show up for them, all the stuff that seemed as challenging as climbing Mount Everest in her past is nothing more than a molehill at best in her current life.

TL;DR: I don’t think it’s privacy that inherently spells doom for a celebrity relationship like this; it’s the mutual support and respect that does. If Taylor had felt that in the later years of her previous relationship, I think we could be seeing a different, though not necessarily unfulfilled, person right now in 2024, who’d be happy on tour but whose personal life would look a little different. But it seems like by losing that support she lost parts of herself, and we’ve seen her reclaim that in spades in the last year, and perhaps to degrees she didn’t even realize she could from before all the Bad Stuff started happening in her young adulthood.

I know this was extremely long-winded and unnecessary, especially about total strangers we only know through scraps fed through the media, but I just always bristle at this idea that issues like these boil down to “personality differences,” as though one person wants to live in a city and the other on a remote island, or some shit like that. The whole support (and gender tbh) issue is one that’s just very close to my heart because again, I have seen it play out with so many of my friends in long term relationships and marriages and I just think people in relationships (and women in particular in some circles) deserve better than to feel like they’re being, well, tolerated.

[ghost-bard]

Youre kidding me. Porter is a multiclass teacher and he wont let one of his students multiclass your fucking kidding me he called gorgug a c+ student while hes taking freshman-junior artificer classes i hate his guts so much my fucking goodness maybe gorgug wouldnt be a c+ student if he wasnt taking on a 400% workload you bitch i hate himmmmmm

[bunnihearted]

🐰🌧️

[goldkirk]

.

[threadsun]

Thoughts on non con fics or just people who are into non con in general?

[like-it-or-not-i-am-alive]

Tw: menstruation, vent post, parents.

Thinking about how when I was a teen, I had really painful menses. At times, it was so bad that my legs felt like they were tingling, and standing was difficult. I was sent home from school on a number of occasions due to vomiting during my menstruation.

Overall, a really shitty time.

Not only was I frequently told I was being over dramatic, that I just needed to "walk around," eventually restricted from going home or seeing the school nurse... But I was told because I'm trans, it shouldn't be an issue.

My mother told me on a multitude of occasions, "If you're a boy, then you shouldn't be having these issues, huh?"

"Boys don't have these problems."

I hold so much bitterness over the fact that no one ever took me to the doctor for my painful menstruation. My mother told me years later that she didn't believe cramps actually happened during menstruation because she had never had them before. She only began to believe people get cramps when she had some herself, years after I was now missing menses all together.

Sometimes, that bitterness of feeling pain that no one believed me for, out weighs being invalidated. Other times, like now, I see the whole picture and feel so much anger.

The same adults who told me my pain was a lie, told me I was just trying to get attention, or get out of school, are the same ones who told the doctors, "She has a really high pain tolerance, we just know something is wrong when she complains about the head aches!"

Why is it that no one took me to the doctor? Why is it no one believed me when I never complained about pain before? The years of perfect school attendance suddenly questioned when I couldn't stand up from the desk. Was it all for nothing?

Why is it that the people I was supposed to trust the most were the ones who never listened?

Maliciously never listened.

I was punished for having a body that I didn't ask for and feeling a way I couldn't control.

I'm allowed to struggle with my anatomy, trans or not. I'm allowed to feel pain.

To be told I wasn't allowed to express the physical pain I was dealing with because I am transgender is heinous. They laughed when they would say it. I don't care if they thought it was funny. It was a mockery, and they knew it.

I should have been given some support. I should have been given at the VERY LEAST a supportive pat on the back.

I could have dealt with the pain on my own if they had just given me the space to do it. Without the shame and mockery.

Just before my menses went away, they started to believe me. I guess because it had been years at that point.

Even though the only change was that they would let me go lay down rather than be forced to socialize or do their activities. It really made a difference. Sure, it was painful, I was sick and couldn't eat. But it was a million times better than being made to continue as usual and burden everyone with my inability to function.

It still irks me.

[im2tired4usernames]

Ugh I was excited for today until I found out I'd have to spend it with people that actively make me hate being alive hate the future and drain me off all energy physically mentally spiritually like a vampire I can't stand to be around her she is the definition of stupidity and even then that's generous as fuck this bitch has filled her brain with so much garbage I watch her brain cells die at alarming rates every single time she uses her vocal cords her giggles make me want to jam a sewing needle into my ear repeatedly so I can never have to hear it again its a friendly reminder that my parents decisions this time my dad's constantly makes me want to die

[piplupod]

second hater post of the day: I am glad that not everybody has experienced abuse at the hands of their parents, but sometimes these people say honestly really unbelievably stupid (insensitive or just plain baffling) things because they are so disconnected from the experiences of abuse survivors/victims

[vamptastic]

it's kinda weird that when you look at health recommendations for various medical conditions associated with fatness it's always 'just lose 10% of your body weight to see a risk reduction' (so like 20-30 pounds for the average overweight or obese person according to the bmi) but then in day to day medicine there's not really a way of like, removing obesity as a diagnosis on your insurance paperwork for example, even if by a certain standard you've lost enough weight to reduce the risk of health conditions that insurance would be concerned about. if you're an average height weighing 300 pounds and lose 30 pounds, which seems to be the amount that's considered reasonable to lose and maintain if you want to like, reduce your cholesterol, you've gone from morbidly obese to morbidly obese.

[astridthevalkyrie]

feeling like you’re 12 when you’re 22 is genuinely such a humiliating experience.

[kareenvorbarra]

i'm like. desperate to get back into doing music regularly but the thought of doing it by myself is really depressing. i could sing, but what i really want to do is sing with other people. i can't accompany myself because i only really have experience with wind instruments. i could start practicing recorder again, but recorder is also kind of a bummer to play on its own, especially after having the experience of playing in a small group. i could try to learn guitar, but i know i don't have the motivation to teach myself and i don't really have the money to spare for lessons.

i know if i don't want to do it alone, i have to be more proactive in either getting together with my few musical friends who live close enough and persuading them to do the kind of things i want to do (we have varied interests that don't always overlap), or finding an existing group that i can join (nobody near me is doing exactly the things i want to do and i don't have the contacts or the skill to get in touch with strangers and start something)

[firefurious]

still making my way through kith & kin and sounding like a broken record i'm sure but i just. really like how the book shows the scorn the twins were treated with and the source for vex's deep desire for acceptance and recognition. the trying to be perfect thinking that was what would win over her father's affection and the respect of those around them. i just really love how the twins face it very differently; vax is challenging — he doesn't have to prove himself to these people, he doesn't have to give a shit for what they think (i think from the start he understands better that it isn't about how capable they are; it's about prejudice and even if they are perfect nothing would change, they'd always be found lacking somehow).

vex tries to conform; she wants to prove them wrong and to prove she's worthy, she craves the acceptance and love and respect. it hurts her deeply to not have it, so she keeps trying even when it hurts her (even! when! they deliberately hurt her. syldor outright calls one of her attempts 'pathetic', even though he forced her to try to prove her skill after she was exhausted and with a weapon she had only just started training with; there's no sympathy or understanding, there's only derision)

Every word they spoke hurt, like they took the fragile, tender parts of her and broke them, one at a time. Her pride in her archery. Her inquisitiveness. Her sense of home.

this part also stood out to me as someone whose first source of knowledge about her is the series because it's so very in line with things that still plague her there. dear, broken vex'ahlia, saundor says to her, and he's not wrong. there are parts of her that were broken and never healed. the book so far also shows that in the 'present' parts; she hates cities not because of the cities, but because she always feels she has something to prove, because people always treat her as worthless. vex admits to wanting to prove to syldor he's wrong about her when they're looking for fenthras; and ultimately she chooses not to go back there and rub it in his face, but that's not the case before facing saundor. she's still hurt by her father being at best indifferent and at worse disdainful; she's still hurt whenever anyone treats her as lesser. vax can be angry and not care but she can't. she surely can resent (she definitely wanted nothing with their father after they left), but that doesn't change that she longs to be seen as worthy and treated as such.

[hishighnesstheprincess]

vent in tags

[skrunksthatwunk]

jumpscared by least favorite seasonal chore