I know you don't like discussing the muses but i love your takes and perspectives and i had to ask you about this. after listening to ttpd, did you have the impression that she really loved matty more than any of her exes/previous relationships?. And listening to the whole album as a whole would you call it the ''matty album'' or do you think there are more prominent themes in there than their period together?. (hope this doesn't bother you, feel free to delete if you don't feel like answering it)
hey anon! You're right, I don't really like to get into the muses as I don't really think there's anything to add to the conversation at this point, and ultimately I don't think it matters.
That being said, and with the caveat that I am not Taylor and I do not know Taylor so I cannot speak to her thoughts and can only make relatively educated guesses based on being an avid consumer of her work and a student of the human condition (lol), no I do not think Taylor loved Matty more than anyone else. I think there was maybe a brief period in the thick of things where she *thought* she did because she was not thinking clearly and was in full-on denial, but to me the message that is loud and clear in the album (and more or less explicitly stated in the epilogue) is that it was not any kind of real love affair. It was certainly infatuation and lust and the promise of something more, and there may have been some love as well, but he was in no way the love of her life by any measure.
I would call it a "Matty album" insofar as they're about events in which he was present, sure. But I feel it much more as a Taylor album, if that makes sense, even though I know that's a cop out because every album is to a degree. I can't explain it well, but I don't see TTPD as a Matty (or Joe) album in the way that I would maybe say Red is a "Jake" album or 1989 may be a "Harry" album or even Lover being a "Joe" album whatever, because even if they don't figure in all the songs, that kind of heartbreak permeates so much of the material.
The thing about TTPD and the Matty situation is that the Matty situation is really a Joe situation (which in some ways is actually partially a Jake situation). I always say I hate treating Taylor like a character so I hate speaking about her and her work in this way, but you don't get the Matty situation without the Joe situation precipitating it. It's @taylortruther's now-infamous donut vs. hole analogy. The reason Taylor makes the choices she does with Matty is directly tied to what happened with Joe that made her feel she needed to. Which is not to say Taylor isn't responsible for her own actions or doesn't have agency in her own life, but I mean it in that the situation in which she found herself with Joe, and the pain it caused, is what made the alternative so comforting and perhaps even necessary in her mind. It's why it makes it so hard to "paternity test" the album, because the stories are inherently intertwined and you don't get the former without the latter.
The major "theme" of the album to me is the loss of a very specific, very personal dream, and the way in which she lost it, and the way in which grieving that loss drove her to make the choices she did. We're all talking very delicately about it because it's a sensitive topic, but it's late on Friday and few people are going to see this, so I'm going to say it: it's the give you my wild, give you a child of it all. The yearning she expresses both overtly and sub-textually for having a family in the album is palpable in a very iykyk kind of way, and it's the realization that those plans are not going to come to fruition in the way she had once imagined that drives a lot of the pain she experiences, and makes her jump at the chance to find that again with someone else.
I started a draft post about the theme of womanhood and motherhood on TTPD three months ago that I never finished because I ran out of time and ran out of steam, but it was the most striking thing to me on the album, not because I didn't know that she wanted those things because that's been obvious for years (definitely since Lover, and again, peace put it all on the table), but because the vulnerability she expressed about it on the album is incredibly moving, and it's so generous of her to trust listeners with those feelings and experiences.
Again, it's the thirtysomething of it all.
She is in relationship A which she at one point believes is forever, one which she at one point believes is going to lead to marriage and children. She is so committed to that dream that she either ignores or tries to fix serious issues that may otherwise lead others to think the two people in the relationship are incompatible, both because she loves the person deeply and because she feels that this is meant to be the way she achieves that dream. She gives it her everything, and it still dies a slow, painful, onerous death, and she feels like it may take her along with it. The dream of getting married and presumably having a family gets taken off the table: how we don't know and will likely never know because that is private between the parties involved. All that matters in the context of the album is that those plans never come to fruition and never would.
Then you have relationship B, an old flame who knows just enough buttons to push both to trigger and to flatter. A person who she presumably trusts with very sensitive, personal information as her life slowly crumbles, and this person is telling her all the things she wants to hear because he knows about what is happening in relationship A because she's told him. Person in relationship B doesn't get an "in" with her and sell her this dream unless what happens in relationship A precedes it. It's not a grand love affair for the ages, it's not a mutual decision on building their own dream together. It's Person B learning about what is happening with Person A and saying "I can do that!" even if he can't or doesn't. The dream he sells her is a rental car; it's not his own, he's just borrowing it from someone else and selling it back to her.
And the reason she falls for it is because it is what she aches for the most in her personal life, and she is grappling with it disintegrating, so she (unfortunately for her) falls for the easy way out, and in turn sells herself a story about how this must be fated, and this must be meant to be, because this person wants all the same things she does and she didn't even have to bargain for it! Well, yes, because she fed him the dream in the first place. (Like a mark falling for a sleeper cell spy.) It's too good to be true because it isn't true. IMO Person B doesn't come running out of the gate with the marriage/baby/dream life promises unless he knows that is what she most desires. But what's left unsaid out of all of it is that: those dreams were her dreams because they were her dreams with Person A. It was a whole life they had together, and a whole life they had planned for in some fashion, and a whole life that has to be dismantled in the aftermath.
So all this to say, yes, on the surface, Matty is a "main character" on the album, but truly he's a side character to Taylor as the narrator and person experiencing it and Joe as the ghost bit-player-who-haunts-every-scene. (Again, I hate referring to real people as characters, it gives me the absolute ick, but in this case it's the only way to answer the question.) I jokingly call it the Matty album for shorthand or when I want to say something out of pocket, but really, it's a disservice to the album to say that because it's not a muse album as in it's about the romance (like, say, Red often is), it's about a soul-crushing heartbreak that goes beyond it. The romance is the symptom, not the cause.
The loss of youth is tied in with all this: she's not 22 anymore. She isn't even 32 anymore. She had a very specific idea of what her life was going to look like at this point and had planned for that life, and it goes up in smoke. But again, to bring the womanhood into it all: there is, unfortunately, a deadline for these things. You're with someone for over half a decade you think is going to be your life partner and father of your children and and then he's not. You spent half a decade building this relationship for it to crumble, but now you're in your mid-30s and you don't necessarily have another half-decade to build that trust and faith in someone else before being ready to start a family. And maybe you're scared that anyone else who may become your partner will need that much time to build that trust and faith, because that's kind of all you've ever know in relationships. But lo and behold, someone comes into your life you once had feelings for and maybe now do again and is offering you everything you want and thought you'd have by this point in your life right now. It feels like an elixir that as we find out is actually poison.
That youth is not just the chance for motherhood, but it's also the hopes and idealism and belief in the future that often gradually erodes as we age. But for Taylor as well, it's also tied into the trauma of what she went through particularly in 2016, which kicks off a lot of things on the album as well (her retreat, her relationship with Joe, the pivoting in her career, etc.). That event caused a pretty clear before/after in her life (like a few other events, I suspect), and another major theme in the album is her finally grappling with the full weight of that. They're all different branches of the same tree of the story of TTPD and her life.
I could talk about this stuff forever, but I'm going to stop here because it's long enough and I should save stuff for one of the dozens of drafts I have half-baked lol. But this is just something I needed to get off my chest perhaps.
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godheim alkaid | in which he has (almost) nothing to hide (anymore)
Years after you settle down near New Godheim, your sons take part in a scheme to distract their father before the big surprise party. Unfortunately, Alkaid is observant—and his sons take after him.
1.4k, post-canon, birthday surprises, really domestic stuff with slight angst, children of characters, reader is mc [mentioned only], series: an eventful first meeting
ALKAID IS TENDING TO HIS garden when the door to the quaint house he shares with his wife and three children creaks open.
Hushed whispers descend upon his blossoming garden, but he remains deliberately immersed in cooing over the flowers. His gloved fingers hover over, but never touch, the stems of the purple flower he once brought to life for his wife—back in the snow-buried Godheim he once called home.
Whatever silence his sons can scrounge up lasts only until someone starts shoving—from the yelping, he can guess it's Leo, the older of the two. They sort out the argument between them quickly, then wordlessly set out further into his garden.
And this is, apparently, how some siblings act, particularly if they're close in age. You've vouched for the statement with anecdotes of your school life, but even almost thirteen years later, he finds it hard to wrap his head around it.
He and Ehlonna were never so rough with each other—or at all. But then again, they could only ever dream of the only kind of childhood his sons know.
This is only another difference in a terribly long list, one he hopes will only grow longer.
"Hmm?" Alkaid pauses in his act, pretending to have only just noticed his sons' arrival. "Who is it?"
Silence greets him in return. He waits. A second becomes many, but they do not keep him waiting for long. Instead, they join him by the flowers, almost solemn in the way they gaze at his hard work.
And the way their eyebrows pinch together reminds him of you.
"And what brings the two of you here?" Resting his hands on his knees, he cranes his neck to greet them, one by one. A hint of amusement trickles into his tone. "Will you not be helping your mother this year?"
The two attempt to glance at each other. He leans back a little, disguising his short laugh as a polite cough. The remnants of a smile, however, linger long after his gloved hand retreats. Pressing the back of his bent fingers against his lips, he allows it to return to its former glory.
Behind his back, they converse wordlessly. He pretends he can't hear the rustling of their clothes as they gesture at each other.
"No," Leo huffs out. Forest green eyes narrow at him, carefully gauging his reaction. "There's no point in trying this year."
"Yeah," Sirius grumbles.
Unlike his brother, he's nearly the splitting image of his mother. The title is out of reach only because of the occasional reminders that Alkaid is his father—in the color of his eyes. In the thickness of his hair. In his love for gardening, and in his quiet perceptiveness, one that would leave him wise beyond his ears if he had been born into any other life.
"You always know what we're up to for your birthday."
Indeed, Alkaid thinks privately, settling down onto the ground, with his hands back on his knees. Without delay, his sons mimic him. Today is no different. But he'll pretend it is, though it remains to be seen if his youngest son will buy it.
"Oh," he utters instead. "You didn't get me a present?"
"Not a physical one," the blond says quickly. His words take on a biting quality at the end—the message is clear, both to his brother and to Alkaid, though it's aimed at only one of them. Say something. "We're going to do whatever you want to do, Father."
Turning his head to Leo, Alkaid pretends to think, "Well, I did plan on spending more time on the garden."
"Urk." His next words slip out through gritted teeth, not quite an affirmative, but neither is it a denial. The blond leans forward, unamused gaze pinned on his snickering brother. "Ahem, it's your birthday, Father. You should relax for the day. Somewhere far, far away from here."
"Your mother once did something similar," Alkaid says wistfully, obliviously. "How nostalgic."
In unison, with an ease that suggests much practice, the twins gag at his words. They cap it off with a bland, but insistent, "We know," having perhaps grown tired of hearing the same things over and over again.
"Have I mentioned it before?" he inquires innocently. He hasn't, by the way. Nor has he mentioned the ending, where you did manage to surprise him. Such a trick can only work so many times. "I must've forgotten."
"It's possible," Sirius agrees amiably, having recovered in remarkable time. His fingers lightly caress the soft petals of Alkaid's flowers. "It only shows how much you care about Mother. You make her tea whenever she wants and you've been growing these flowers because they remind you of her."
Less amiably, Leo grumbles, "And you've told us so many stories that we could recite them in our sleep. You and Mother both."
Alkaid smiles faintly. If that is the worst of his sins, of their sins, then surely, they're doing something right. That he has to listen to his children complain is a small price to pay.
"So, when are you going to give them to her?"
"I'm not sure," he admits.
It is the sense that he's being watched that spurs him to glance back at the kitchen window, but the curtain remains drawn, void of any silhouettes that would give the game away. He thinks of his wife, of the awkwardness that's settled into their home—a genuine mistake they don't feel equipped to fix, one that isn't even their own, not entirely.
But they should've expected it. They should've realized that people would carelessly bring Ehlonna up in front of the twins. They should've known better than to try and hide her sacrifice, her—
In that moment, the dark-haired boy nudges him, pulling his attention back onto the flowers. Carefully, a smile slots back into his pleasant expression. Alkaid unclenches his hand—and when had he done that?—and resolves to focus on the current matter at hand.
"Then, do the two of you have any ideas?"
"You'd know better," the younger blond mumbles, his spirits having noticeably dampened at the direction the conversation is taking. "You've known her for a long, long time. Longer than us, since before—"
As expected, Leo was—is—the bigger problem. And Alkaid understands it. He does. But he's allowed to hope that, one day, Leo will realize he has nothing to compensate for, even if he is a bit more withdrawn than his siblings.
A lot more withdrawn, actually.
Perhaps oblivious to the slight tension in the air, though that seems unlikely, Sirius interrupts him without a care. "Give them to her on her birthday!"
A sound option, but—
Alkaid glances at his oldest son. Lips jutting out into a pout, he glares at the unsuspecting flowers in front of him. Under the sun's warmth, his hair takes on a more golden hue, as if it was gold spun into delicate strands.
Brushing the boy's bangs out of his face, Alkaid asks, "And what about you?"
"Isn't it your birthday today?"
He holds his forehead and scowls. At his father's words? At his actions? The older blond remains uncertain. Scarlet blooms acroas the boy's cheeks, the color intensifying as his brother snickers.
Gently, Alkaid offers his younger son a rebuke.
"You're right. Why don't we change the subject then?" He chuckles, tapping his chin. A hint of amusement slips into his words; his next words come out almost song-like. "Now, what shall we talk about?"
"Anything else."
"From before you met Mother!"
As requested by his boys, the topic shifts. The garden soon forgotten, they talk about his childhood.
He talks about Zack, who he'd reunited with shortly after New Godheim had been established, who they knew as "Uncle Zack". He talks about Ehlonna, focusing on the happier memories—on stars, and how he thought she might appreciate the company.
He talks about the Archmage last, telling them close to everything but the period in between, where their relationship grew distant. Wording his sentences carefully, so that they won't look unkindly upon his mentor. Focusing on the happier bits, like the time he and Ehlonna threw him a surprise party, even though they—and the emperor, as well—knew nothing about the day of his birth.
And in the garden they remain, until the ringleader behind this surprise birthday operation comes to fetch them herself, when Alkaid utilizes his best acting skills to be nothing less than thoroughly caught off-guard.
They don't really believe him, but that's okay.
There's always next year.
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Thinking about Maya having intricate and close relationships with each of her ghosts, thinking about how all her living friends abandoned her.. that she can never touch, be with or genuinely know these people who want her safe because they're stuck in their own times and perpetually re-living through their deaths. She can't ever have something tangible.
Anyway, as such, here's some "Maya and the ghosts interpersonal relationships" headcanons:
Amy Bell. Maya immediately develops a soft spot for Amy, given that she was only aged ten at death, though she can provide little support and can never quite bring herself to explain to Amy that she's been dead for 30-odd-years whenever Amy excitedly tells her that she wants to be just like her when she's big, she does like to show her more of what the world has to offer. She plays video games with Amy excitedly directing her through them, completely stunned by the graphics. Loves to take her on walks and drives. Though it hurts her immensely that Amy doesn't seem to understand that only Maya can talk to her.
Doctor Bose. Bose and Maya also get off on a good foot, he's soft spoken, polite and (generally) the most emotionally intelligent ghost. I picture him being good at soothing her when she's distressed - psychiatrist and such - it starts the moment they meet, his warm, hollow self pressed against her flank trying to count her breaths as she clutches at her bleeding scalp. He wants nothing more than to tuck her under his sports jacket and chat aimlessly about her post-university prospects.
He resents her inability to cook well, tuts through the box if she has pesto pasta more than two nights in a row. Is far too invested in the gossip of her housemates and will trail them, flickering the lights if they touch Maya's food. He does not like them but tamps down any particularly scathing criticism for her peace of mind. Big old gossipy softie.
Harvey. Due to Harvey's actual chronic inability to have tact, he and Maya are not initially keen on each other. He's also incredibly old fashioned in his mannerisms and Maya has a deep distaste for being called "pet", "love" or "girl" (oh, what range a middle aged northern bloke has) and such their first interactions are pretty biting and unpleasant. Very snarky on Harvey's end.
However, they do eventually start to warm towards each other. Harvey begins to realise that Maya is a genuinely good, if nosey, person who's often left out by her peers due to her quirks. Maya realises Harvey is a deeply emotionally repressed man. They find comfort in being aware of these aspects. Harvey also decides he needs to be a protector of sorts, though he's stiff about it, Maya just likes winding him up, but knows he'd probably kill for her if he could.
Rosemary Hall. Much like with Harvey, Rose and Maya are not able to bond well initially. Rose holds herself at such a distance from potential connection, because the moment she stops playing aloof she gets hurt. And Maya doesn't understand why Rose is so cold with her. (Also, confronting the reality of Maya's experiences means that Rose will have to contend with the person Jimmy's become.) The parallels between them both are striking and as Maya becomes cognisant of that fact, the more she's able to wriggle her way into Rose's good books.
Once they settle in with each other more, Rose let's herself be a little more maternal; she'll constantly keep track of what Maya ought to be doing and remind her of it, she offers hangover remedies and insightful relationship advice. She wants to braid Maya's hair the way her mother did her own, but she's such an amorphous spirit that her fingers drift through the strands. Maya likes to listen to her go on about the hotel's glory days and watch shit soap operas together.
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