Randomly thinking about “tolerate it” (narrator voice: it was not random) and how under the cloak of fiction it is ostensibly inspired by works like “Rebecca” (which Taylor said she read during the 2020 lockdowns I believe?), with the line of “you’re so much older and wiser” indicating that the speaker is significantly younger and inexperienced compared to the person she’s speaking to and a pretty direct reference to the plot of the book.
But I saw something somewhere once that stuck with me about how it might not be referring to relative age between the characters but chronological age as in the passage of time in a relationship. And that made me think about how in a contemporary context, it might not necessarily be referencing an actual age gap between the two characters, but rather a sarcastic or cynical response to the man’s claims that he has matured (“you’re so much older and wiser [than you were before/than you were when we met/etc.]”), which then made me think about that line in relation to the woman. And that it could be taken like, “you act like you’ve matured so much in our time together and like you know everything, while I’m supposedly still stuck as the girl I was when we first met.”
Which then made me think of the “right where you left me” of it all and did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen time went on for everyone else she won’t know it and the bit in Miss Americana where she talks about how celebrities get frozen at the age at which they got famous, and how she’s had to play catch up in a lot of ways not just in her emotional growth but kind of in general. (Which also made me wonder if she’s ever been called out for immaturity/lack of curiosity/lack of education about things in her life…)
Which then made me think about the rest of the song, and @taylortruther’s posts yesterday about “seven” and “Daylight” and the way Taylor idealizes her youth yet contrasts it with an almost sinister reality in its wake, and the line, “I sit by the door like I’m just a kid,” because the discussion raised that her relationship let her recapture some of the childlike joy and wonder she’d lost. So this line is a double-edged sword: the speaker sits by the door with childlike hope that the person will come home and cherish her, but on the darker side, feels like the child dealing with the monsters she doesn’t have names for yet and the feelings of isolation she felt as she aged.
I’m not saying the song is necessarily autobiographical; like most of the songs on folkmore, it’s clearly a fictionalized story based on media she’d consumed and created, but we know a lot of the fictional songs were infused with her own feelings and experiences and… This idea swirling in my head picked up steam and now I kind of can’t stop thinking about it. Sorry but I’m a little obsessed now.
Like maybe it might start to shed light on why she identified so strongly with the novel in the first place…
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am i the only one who wants a fic where dany is transported to hotd time, preferably around that dinner right before viserys died, so that this entire mess of a family is confronted with what will become of their dynasty — a girl who calls herself the mother of dragons, who grew up as a beggar and was sold by her own brother in exchange for an army, who has never set a foot in king’s landing, who is the last of her kind, the last of the targaryens
and for dany to look at these people, her ancestors — her family was so large, there are so many of them — and their dragons, who wear saddles, who are tended to in the dragonpit, by keepers who know what they are doing, who have a long history with these creatures
and she knows, she knows her histories, she knows about the dance, she knows these individuals are the ones who brought her family to ruin, who made the dragons disappear — and she thinks of being stuck in the desert with a half-dead khalasar and three newborn dragons, of struggling to feed them, of not knowing how, of all these things that have been lost to her, these birthrights that were stolen- her dragons were gifted by a pentosi merchant, not placed at her cradle as it should have been— and seeing them all take it for granted, knowing they will destroy all of it in a war that has no victor-
can you imagine daenerys, who has only ever wanted to go home, who has only ever wanted to have family- can you picture her looking at them, at these people who hate each other, who will kill each other, who will take so much from her, even if they don’t know it yet
can you imagine her rage, at all of them, for taking it all for granted. for turning on each other over the throne, when it would be theirs regardless, would be targaryen, would be the dynasty’s, and don’t they understand, a targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing
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WIP WEDNESDAY
This is a snippet from chapter 36 of TBBW, a very very rough draft - I haven't done much for this chapter because I'm obvi focusing on editing. However, I'm sure you'll still find it exciting - and a hint to where the fic's plot is taking us next.
Klaus eyed the new girl standing in the Lockwood study, watching as she perused the family’s various collectables and ornaments decorating the room, admiring a painting which Klaus thought rather tacky that was hung over the fireplace. There was a scent about her, tainting the entire room, wet fur and damp earth - a werewolf. Interesting.
“You’re a new face,” he commented, making her jump. She hadn’t noticed he was there.
To give her credit, she recovered quickly, spinning around to face him, taking in his appearance with a sharp eye. Klaus let her look, stepping further into the room, his hands behind his back.
“And I take it from your accent you’re an old one,” she pointed her finger at him, tilting her head in question. “Klaus?”
He smiled down at the floor, amused by her valiant attempt to hide her fear. Unfortunately, her jumping heartbeat gave her away.
“My reputation precedes me. Hopefully not all bad.”
She curled up her lip in obvious disgust. “A little bad. Mostly repulsive.”
His smile dropped, no longer amused at all. He couldn’t work out if her disrespect was foolishness or arrogance.
“So you’re a friend of Tyler’s-” he continued, walking closer towards her, eyes narrowed. “That’s strange. He’s never mentioned you.”
The girl clamped her mouth shut, suddenly with little to say. And that was when Klaus heard his name being said, far away at the other end of the house, by a voice whose cadence he recognised instantly: Caroline.
“You’re kidding me? Klaus?”
Klaus turned his head slightly, frowning as he listened in more intently. He could practically hear the wince in Tyler’s response.
“Yeah, and I really don’t want to piss him off so…You should go to the party. I’ll be fine here.”
“But I’d rather hang with you,” he heard Caroline reply, so tentative and so very hopeful.
Regardless, Tyler shot her down.
“Trust me, I am no fun right now.”
Why would Tyler turn her away? The petty, vindictive boy Tyler was, no doubt he’d jump at the chance to have Caroline on his arm while Klaus was in the house. A childish fuck you, since he couldn’t turn the hybrids protecting him away. So why say no? His mother was out, so she wouldn’t intrude, he was alone in the house except for-
Klaus’ gaze fell back on the new girl, looking at her in a new light. Suddenly, her presence took on an entirely different meaning, one that Klaus didn’t like at all.
“And I think I know why,” Klaus continued, shooting her a smile that was all teeth.
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you later then?”
“Yeah, I’ll call you,”
“Yeah, okay.”
Klaus felt his hands clench behind his back, an anger settling his chest at sheer disappointment and hesitance he heard in Caroline’s voice, like she had done something wrong. The nerve of this boy-
“Tell me…” he trailed off, pointedly looking at the girl.
“Hayley,” she answered quickly.
“Hayley,” Klaus echoed, beginning to circle around her. “Tell me, Hayley, how did you and Tyler meet?”
She shifted her weight to one side, folding her arms around her chest. Defensive. “I ran with the pack he sought help from.”
“To break my sire bond?” Klaus asked, her face confirming his suspicions. He waved the panicked look in her eyes away. “Yes, I know all about that. So, you are one of the Outcast then.”
Hayley frowned, shaking her head in confusion and looking rather impatient, as if he was rambling nonsense. “Outcast?”
“Werewolves like yourself and Tyler: descendants of the same wolves that stabbed their brethren in the back for a chance of mercy. Doomed to forever wander in aimless, disjointed packs,” he explained, stopping behind her, forcing her to turn to face him. His mouth curled into a sneer of his own. “Traitorous little things.”
She scoffed, smiling a little. “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No. You wouldn’t,” Klaus drawled, tilting his head again, in that wolf-like way. Her smile fell. “Allow me to enlighten you,” he continued, pointing a finger at her, “You see, werewolves like you, like the others I made my hybrids - they know not of our nature. Instead of making a stand, staying to fight against the vampires and witches alike - your ancestors ran and hid. And in hiding, they failed to teach their children the ways of our kind. The traditions, the knowledge, the culture. All was lost until they were so far from what they are, they believe their wolf is a curse. Outcast. Alone. Forgotten.”
“Lycanthropy is a curse.”
Klaus grinned. “Is it?”
Her eyes narrowed, taking a step back from him, clearly ill at ease with what he had just said. “What would you know of our histories? You’re more vampire than wolf, I know that at least.”
“My father is what we call an Alpha of Alphas. A King,” he said, closing the distance between them, not allowing her to escape. “Do you know what that makes me, Hayley?”
“Am I supposed to say Prince Charming?” she sneered, all disgust and foolish defiance.
Something dangerous settled in Klaus’ gaze, violent and spiteful.
“Werewolves follow power. They do not follow weak Kings.” His hand shot out, enclosing around her throat and lifting her up by the neck. His eyes bled black and gold, veins crawling across his cheeks. “Do I look weak to you?” he growled out through sharp fangs.
“No,” Hayley choked out, fingers scrambling at the hand holding her throat.
“Then tread more carefully then, because unlike my father, I am not prone to mercy," he snarled in her ear, tightening his fingers around her throat for emphasis. "And learn to curb your tongue or you will find yourself without it,” he said, almost as an after thought, before letting her go. She dropped to the floor, gasping in lungfuls of air and curling over, coughing. Klaus cocked his head, his expression suddenly serene once more. He looked almost bored. When she looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes, he raised a brow, gesturing to the door impatiently. “Go.”
She didn’t need telling twice.
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