#correlated to the sister that always thought they were lesser than her

[pixiecactus]

so... we're still doing "jon and arya (the both siblings that sansa barely cares about) they purely exist in the series to give her the things that she has previously lost" takes?

yeah, no thanks.

[haloud]

things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 9

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Michael and Isobel reckon with the fallout from Michael’s choices; Maria and Max catch up with him post-recovery.

Excerpt:

Maria sat on the steps, an old CD radio of Rosa’s beside her playing a classic Rosa mixtape, a Third Eye Blind track Michael only half-remembered flowing around her, her humming running under it, glittering minerals in a riverbed. She was surrounded by papers, pinned under painted rocks to keep them from being snatched away, her hair tied back by a rainbow scarf, and she bent over to write in a binder propped on her knees.

Michael rapped on the pillar behind him to get her attention, and when she looked up she smiled and set the binder aside.

“Guerin! You’re up! What brings you here with the sun in the sky?”

“Where else am I gonna go to get my sea legs back?”

“Well, come pull your ass into port and sit with me.”

She patted the low stair beside her and Michael did as he was told, swiping his hat off his head as he approached her. For her it was wordplay, but Michael cradled to his chest something more true than maybe she’d intended—Maria was a safe harbor, a port in a storm. No matter how bad things got, her warm heart and practical mind were a reminder to never give up. Just sitting beside her was enough to make him smile, even though he sat with a good six inches buffer between them, still unsure what boundaries were appropriate, still navigating the uncertain waters of being friends with an ex who meant something.

 (Wednesday, 11:00 am)

  Michael flipped Alex’s key over and over in his fingers, running it along his knuckles, pressing his thumb into the teeth until they left a locking-imprint on his skin, then doing it all over again. At some point, maybe it would start to feel real, if he reminded himself of the thing often enough.

The repetition and stimulation of the rough teeth, the cool, smooth metal, soothed him as he waited on Isobel’s porch. She’d called him here in the first place, so eventually she’d open the door. Until then, he waited. And as he waited, he thought of Alex, because what else was there to think about these days?

(A thousand things, like Jones and Project Shepherd, Max and Liz, and all the work piling up at Sanders’s, but Alex had a way of blotting everything else out, and, no matter how much his brain tried to get him to feel stupid or naïve or childish for hoping yet again, he was going to let himself bask in that shade for once in his life.)

He hadn’t left Alex’s house, still, except to go to work and get things from his own place. At Alex’s, he was still sleeping in the guest room, the both of them afraid that they’d fall back into their old patterns too fast if they fell right into bed. But during the day they shared that space, a kitchen, a den, existing alongside each other as they read or cooked or composed, and the routine wasn’t so different from the tense and quiet days right after Michael’s injury, but at the same time they were nothing alike, not when each tiny glance could mean so much, not when fingers on the soft rasp of turning pages were fingers he could touch, that could touch him.

Everything was different. It was terrifying, and exhilarating, brand new and nostalgic. It had only been a day; it had only been half their lifetimes.

“Ew, you’re glowing.”

Isobel’s voice started Michael out of his thoughts, and he jumped, shoving Alex’s key into his pocket. She was glaring at him, but still he relaxed, because Isobel’s snark was a form of love and her turning scorn in his direction was a sign things were getting back to normal between them.

“It’s all natural,” he drawled as she stepped aside to let him inside.

“Right. Did something happen, or is this just some lesser known side effect of being brought back from the brink of death.”

“Uh…”

In a way, sort of, if only because Michael’s own stupidity had driven him and Alex closer together, but that wasn’t exactly a direct correlation or anything admirable.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “Just…”

He fell silent. How was he supposed to talk about being in love? He’d never done it before, and this was a first he hadn’t anticipated facing.

“Alex and I…” he tried again, but found himself only able to smile, still without words, and he raised his arms in a helpless shrug.

Isobel’s eyebrows raised. “Oh my god.”

“Yep.”

“I’m still pissed at you, but if Manes is making you his side chick after everything, I’m going to rip his spine out through his—”

“Isobel, no! It’s not like that,” Michael laughed, shaking his head.

“Well what’s it like, then? I cannot handle him breaking your heart again when we’re already dealing with Max.”

He replied, “My heart is fully intact,” as he headed in and dropped down on her couch, throwing a hand over his heart for dramatic effect. “No, uh, Alex and Forrest had a fight, which sucked, but it led to us getting a chance to talk more about, y’know, us, and what we wanted, and each other, so…”

“So this is rebound,” Isobel snipped.

“Can you stop?” Michael said, half-laughing. Even her pessimism on the subject of love couldn’t pop the bubble around his heart right now. He patted the couch beside him, and she hesitated for a few seconds with her arms crossed, before capitulating and joining him.

“Oh, fine,” she groused, leaning against the arm of the couch farthest away from where he was sitting. “Your funeral.”

The words landed like a lead balloon, and Michael winced as her face grew stormier.

“I’m—”

“Don’t,” Isobel held up a hand in his face. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well, what do you want to hear?”

“An explanation, Michael! What the hell were you thinking? Why would you do that? What if he’d just straight up killed you, did you want us to find your body in a cave somewhere or, or never, blown to smithereens by a man who literally breathes fire! You’re so stupid, and selfish, and—” She cut herself off, furious tears welling in her eyes even as the rest of her face didn’t change.

“I know! I know, you’re right, it was stupid. I wasn’t thinking, or, well, I was thinking, but my head was all messed up.” He rested his forehead in his hands and running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think any explanation is going to make any sense now, out of the moment, but I just…everything was going to shit, and I couldn’t do anything for Max, and I thought Jones might have answers, or could help me unlock new powers like you’ve done on your own. So I could protect everyone.”

Isobel threw her arms up and got to her feet, pacing around the couch; Michael tracked her, anxiety dipping and spiking every time she circled him. Her anger pulsing when she passed behind him made his skin crawl, and he shifted in his seat.

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” she finally spoke, stopping in front of him.

He kept his head bent forward, staring at his knees.

She continued, “I really don’t. I’ve been trying for twenty-one years, but I still don’t know how to get through to you. How to convince you that you’re not alone, that people want to protect you. To help you. But I’m not Max. I’ve never pushed or pried or fought to cling onto you when you shook us off. I just hung around because I knew you’d always come back.” She took a deep breath. Her voice stayed steady and deliberate. “But Michael, this has gone on for too long, and you went too far this time. You have to let us help you. Otherwise—I don’t know. I just don’t. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Drops of water speckled the tops of Michael’s knees, and he sniffed, swallowed, mouth dry, throat tight and aching. His sister’s gentle hands threaded through his hair, cradling both temples, right hand over Max’s lingering handprint, but no matter how careful that touch was, he flinched.

Isobel tipped his head up so he had to look her in the eye and said, “You’re my brother, Michael. I love you so much. And I would do anything for you, just like you would—and have—do anything for me. But you need to let me! From here on out, I need you to fucking work with me. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

Tears trickling down his face and dripping from his chin, Michael nodded, not trusting his voice, and Isobel fell forward, his arms opening up to catch her, and they stayed like that for a long time, Michael rocking her back and forth, her clinging desperately to his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he finally croaked, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or Max. I just, I can’t stop myself, sometimes, I know it’s not an excuse, I know it was stupid, I know—”

“I know,” she interrupted his stream of self-loathing, sitting back to look him seriously in the face. “I was in your head, remember?”

She’d found him beneath a vaulted ceiling, stained glass in shifting, alive, alien colors, walled in with his demons. Defining himself inside the devouring maelstrom by the battles he understood. His whole life, he’d sewed himself back whole, and his work wasn’t pretty, but the patterns made sense, and they kept him sane even when the odds demanded otherwise. The image flashed behind his eyes, but that’s all it was, an image. He shook his head.

“Not really.”

“Well. I didn’t really go snooping, no matter how tempting it was,” she said with a self-deprecating roll of her eyes. “But let’s just say…you don’t owe me any explanations you aren’t willing or ready to give. Those belong to you. I know I haven’t always understood that in the past. We both have things to work on, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael rasped, squeezing her tight again. “I…want to work on them with you.”

“Then it sounds like we’re going to be okay,” she softly replied.

(3:00 pm)

Isobel didn’t let him leave the house until both their eyes stopped being red and puffy from crying; It took multiple episodes of some Food Network show he’d never heard of before she agreed to let him out of her sight, and, in deeply un-Isobel-like fashion, she followed him to the door and pulled him into another hug for the road before she let him leave.

The drive from Isobel’s to the Wild Pony wasn’t really long enough to fully ruminate on how bad he must have scared Isobel to warrant this level of reaction. Logically, he’d known, but emotionally it was just beginning to sink in.

Over the past year, he’d been faced with losing Isobel and with losing Max multiple times—had lost Max, in fact. He knew how it felt. Why should the loss of himself be any different to them? In low moments, sure, thoughts shifted beneath the murk of his mind, lurking demons from childhood, that they didn’t need him, they had each other, a more special bond, he was the odd one out, outside, out in the cold. But on the day to day, he didn’t devalue himself like that, not in so many words, did he? But—

To be surprised? That Isobel was afraid, that Max was afraid, that the both of them stood on the precipice of grieving him and had to process the horror of that fall after snatching themselves back at the last minute? It was a slap in the face, a rude awakening. A lesson that for all these years he’d resisted learning.

The first step to protecting those who loved him was to protect himself. He couldn’t keep shelving it as the lowest priority. They were one and the same.

It sounded fake to his own ears, but he’d just have to say it until the lesson sunk in.

With the windows rolled down, the idle breeze tugged Michael’s hair across his face and cooled the late-summer stickiness from his skin. It was just after lunchtime, a little early for Max to be at work, but since he wasn’t at Isobel’s house, it was faster to check for him here than to drive all the way out to his own place.

If there was one positive to his near-death, it was the way Max was invigorated by a purpose. The healing drained him, of course it did; it could have killed him, and that weighed on Michael’s conscience, but afterward, after it worked and he’d pulled Michael back from death, he smiled. He slept. He bustled around Alex’s house babysitting Michael while Alex was at work, and now, with a little distance from fragile death, that didn’t chafe as badly.

Max deserved a better thanks than Michael had thus far been able to render, and with Isobel’s words still ringing in his ears, there was no better time than now.

He pulled up to the Pony, the fairy lights strung across the patio dancing in the wind, the wood of the old building all pale and real in the sunlight. The old, familiar sign above the door was off as long as the bar was closed, but Michael still took a moment to glance at it nice and long, remembering the feel of fixing it under his hands so the whole place felt less liminal, less like a mirror vision of the beating heart that was the Wild Pony glowing under the night sky, lit from within rather than from the sun.

Faint music played as Michael parked and left his truck, so he rounded the corner of the building to suss it out and smiled at what he saw, leaning against one of the trellis supports.

Maria sat on the steps, an old CD radio of Rosa’s beside her playing a classic Rosa mixtape, a Third Eye Blind track Michael only half-remembered flowing around her, her humming running under it, glittering minerals in a riverbed. She was surrounded by papers, pinned under painted rocks to keep them from being snatched away, her hair tied back by a rainbow scarf, and she bent over to write in a binder propped on her knees.

Michael rapped on the pillar behind him to get her attention, and when she looked up she smiled and set the binder aside.

“Guerin! You’re up! What brings you here with the sun in the sky?”

“Where else am I gonna go to get my sea legs back?”

“Well, come pull your ass into port and sit with me.”

She patted the low stair beside her and Michael did as he was told, swiping his hat off his head as he approached her. For her it was wordplay, but Michael cradled to his chest something more true than maybe she’d intended—Maria was a safe harbor, a port in a storm. No matter how bad things got, her warm heart and practical mind were a reminder to never give up. Just sitting beside her was enough to make him smile, even though he sat with a good six inches buffer between them, still unsure what boundaries were appropriate, still navigating the uncertain waters of being friends with an ex who meant something.

“What are you working on?” he asked.

“Oh, you know me.” She gestured vaguely to the arrangement of papers and tucked her feet up beside her, leaning toward Michael, cutting the space between them in half like it wasn’t worth noticing. Some of the tension in Michael’s chest unwound at her ease around him.

“Hustling?” he prompted.

“Yep. I’m just organizing the events I have planned for the upcoming season and making sure I have space set out for scheduling, details, budgeting, the works. High school me would die with envy; my system was never this good when I was trying to study.”

“I’m definitely impressed. Let me know if there’s anything I can help with, anything you need built, or an extra set of ‘hands’ for decorating.”

“How is that going?” she asked, brows furrowing.

“I’m still getting my strength back. Just gotta keep pushing through and hope whatever Jones did didn’t mess me up for good.”

“I’m sure he didn’t.”

Her hand extended but stopped before touching him, until he turned his hand palm-up, asking her to take it. She did, squeezing him.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said. “And the TK aside, have any of the other powers cropped up? The light, the teleporting? Those were the ones Alex told me about.”

“That’s all I remember, really. And no. I haven’t even tried, honestly.” He looked at their joined hands, her wrist bare of the pollen bracelet he’d promised her and wasted, thrown away like trash in a corner of Jones’s cave. This is blasphemy…

“Do you think you will? Try?” Maria asked, head tilted.

“I…hadn’t thought about it. Been focused on getting back to square one with the TK, but…”

Was doing more with his powers still an option? Was he willing to try, and fail, and fail again, without folding and submitting to all the voices in his head that told him every failure was proof positive of the erstwhile adage that he was worthless?

“Well, you have time,” Maria said, squeezing his hand again.

“What about you?” Michael asked. “Any visions?”

Her face shut down. She let go of his hand to smooth both hers down her knees then fold her arms around herself, turning her head away. “No. Still nothing. A few dreams, but it isn’t always easy to tell what’s a normal dream and what’s a vision, and with you out of the woods, the most dire ones are already Jossed.”

“What about Mimi?”

“Huh.” Maria pursed her lips for a second, then said, “I haven’t noticed any change in her? But I’ll have to ask and see what she says. I’m not even completely sure our powers work identically, with the things she’s said about being unstuck in time…I don’t always get that same feeling.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Michael promised her. “Even if it means having to go back to Jones and ask what he knows—”

“No!”

She wheeled on him and smacked his arm lightly.

“Absolutely not! Michael!”

“Not alone, obviously!” He defended.

“Not at all. Jesus Christ. I’ll tell Isobel you said that—I’ll tell Alex—”

“Maria, c’mon,” Michael whined, taking her hand again in an attempt to connect them and calm them both down. “I just don’t want to rule out that he’s meddling in more ways than we know. I still think he’s fucking with Max. You deserve answers, if that’s what’s going on.”

“Not at the cost of your life. Not ever. It could be a hundred other things, too. Stay away from him, Michael, I’m serious.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good,” she said firmly, wrapping her arm around his again and leaning into him. He let out a long, slow breath as she relaxed.

“You know, in Jones’s cave…”

“Mm?”

Michael carefully encircled her wrist with his fingers. “I lost the bracelet I made for you. The backup one I promised.”

“Are you feeling guilty about that? Because please, don’t,” she replied, covering the hand on her wrist with her other. “That is the last thing on my mind.”

“But I—”

“Hush. I’m glad you had it with you, whatever happened to it. It’s good that you opted to protect yourself, even if it didn’t work.”

“I thought your powers were offline.”

“The visions, maybe. But I don’t need to see the future to read you, Guerin.”

“You are something else, DeLuca.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“Hey, Maria—oh! Michael!”

The two of them turned toward the backdoor at the sound of Max’s voice.

“Hey, Max,” Maria said. “Is the inventory finished?”

“Yeah, I was just coming to report back.”

“No need to be so formal,” she teased, standing up and brushing dust from the seat of her pants, looking at the papers around her with her hands on her hips. “I was hoping to get your opinion on some plans, Number One, but someone interrupted, so they’re not quite ready yet.”

“Guilty as charged,” Michael drawled.

Max reached out a hand, and Michael took it to humor him, letting him haul him to his feet.

“I’ll let you off the hook this time,” Maria said as she led the way back into the bar, cool and dim in the daylight. “You can sweep up to say you’re sorry.”

“My pleasure,” Michael said, reaching out a hand, hoping he could summon the broom as nonchalantly as he once could. It sat unresponsive until a spike of formless frustration zipped through him, at which point it flew to his hand fast and hard enough to sting his palm when he caught it. Great. Just what he needed right now—puberty flashbacks.

“I need to run,” Maria said, stowing her binder behind the bar. “Late lunch with Rosa. I’ll see you later, Max—Michael, it was so good to see you. Say hi to Alex for me, okay? I know you’re gonna see him before I do.”

She left with a wink while Michael was still pink and stammering. Maybe Alex had told her already—or maybe that was just Maria, putting him so at ease it was easy to forget how much she saw. His chest glowed so warm he couldn’t stop blushing at that casual acknowledgement, that easy validation, that he and Alex—that Alex and he were what they were to each other, now, again.

“Wait, is she talking about you staying over there, or does she mean—dude!” Max grinned ear to ear and bounded out from behind the bar to pull Michael into a back-slapping hug. “Congratulations!”

Old, brotherly habit had Michael squirming out of Max’s affections, but it didn’t dent his exuberance; he retaliated with a swipe through Michael’s hair, making him duck further out of range, huffing and laughing all at once as he tried to fix it again.

“Yeah, um, Forrest and Alex broke up, and then one thing led to another, so.”

“I’m really happy for you, man.”

“I—thanks. I’m…I’m really happy, too.”

The sudden urge to comfort Max gripped him, a strange survivor’s guilt that things would be working out for him and Alex and Max and Liz would still be so far apart. But it wasn’t his place to throw that in Max’s face now, so he bit his tongue and basked in Max’s honest happiness for him.

“Could you feel, uh, any of my emotions through the handprint?” Michael asked. He ran his hand through his hair over the spot on his temple where Jones had held him, erased by Max’s healing hands, then dropped it back to his side abruptly, flexing away the phantom stiffness that still plagued him, that probably always would. He gave it a shake as if to chase away nervous tingling.

“Nah. But it’s not like I’m looking; I respect your privacy, man.”

“’preciate that,” Michael snarked, and Max just shrugged.

“Any particular reason you ask? I don’t need to know what you and Alex are up to,” Max joked.

Michael considered his answer for a little bit as he made his way between the tables. After all, it wasn’t as if this was the first handprint Max had ever given him. The ones on his neck and hand cut off by his death aside, dozens of times over dozens of years, Max had practiced healing on him and they’d explored that connection. Michael was always the guinea pig; he never wanted for injuries to work on, after all.

But there’d been a lot of handprinting over the past year and change. Max felt something from Liz; Liz felt something from Noah; Rosa and Max had a connection strong enough to tether Max to the world of the living. And then there was Michael, with Jones’s voice in his ear, dripping condescending words about his lack of psychic ability being phenomenal, considering.

At various times in his life, Michael had looked up at the stars and wondered in the silence what it was in him that was irreparably broken.

“Just curious. It’s been a while, and all juiced up like I was, I was wondering if anything felt different.”

“Nothing different. Just you.”

Max smiled like that was a good thing, a comforting thing. And you know what? In between the adrenaline of change, good and bad, in between the rock of Project Shepherd and the hard place of Jones, on an afternoon in a closed bar, a home to both of them, alone with his brother, Michael let it be.

He cleared his throat. “Good. So there’s no…interference or anything? Nothing weird lurking around up there?”

“Not that I can tell; Isobel would probably know better than I would. Whatever he did to you was bizarre, man. It wasn’t like the way, uh, the way I’ve killed people before. Or the way Noah killed.”

“I don’t think he was just trying to kill me.”

Michael made his way over to a booth and beckoned Max over; he lingered over his work for a glance at the clock and then came and joined him.

He continued, “He kept going on about teaching and knowledge and this being the wrong way but the most efficient. He knew it would hurt me, but maybe it would have worked better if he did it to someone more, uh, receptive than me.”

“What are you talking about?” Max leaned over the table, brow furrowed. This close up, the dark circles below his eyes were more noticeable. “Michael, what he did to you wasn’t in any way your fault—”

“I know, I know, that’s not what I mean. Just…look, I saw the security footage from Caulfield, from the day of the Valenti incident. The way that alien approached Jim Valenti and put his hands on him was identical to what Jones did to me, and I think maybe that guy was just trying to communicate but it fucked up a human in a way he either couldn’t expect or was too out of it to realize. And, well,” Michael gestured to his own head. “I’m the most human of the three of us up here.”

“I…huh.” Max sat back and drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he processed that. “Well, whatever the case, it proved you and Isobel were right about him. He can’t be trusted. Nobody should have any more contact with him. We’ll start doing our monthly drop offs contactless until we all figure out what should be done with him.”

His voice was firm, businesslike. Traffic Stop Max was Michael’s least favorite version of his brother and he’d hoped that his turn to the civilian would’ve put that guy to rest, but he had a tendency to rear his head in a crisis.

But in this case, he saw through him, and that façade was hiding something.

“How do you feel about that?” Michael asked, leaning back and slouching, reflecting Max’s rigid body language the way he had for a decade, cops and robbers style.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about it. He almost killed you; we’ll do what has to be done.”

“Uh, it definitely does matter. You’re the closest thing to a next of kin he’s got, as far as we know. If anyone gets to decide what happens to him, it’s you.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Is it? ‘Cause, look, I know I fucked up a lot of stuff running off to Jones half-cocked like I did. I don’t want to set off a chain reaction of more bad mistakes that rips us apart again when we’re just startin’ to…” Michael trailed off with a self-conscious shrug. It was realer than he’d intended to get, but it was the root of the issue, wasn’t it?

Max’s face softened, and Michael slumped lower in the booth.

“You’re not. You won’t.”

“You’re just saying that—”

“Michael.”

That tone was always a coin flip if it’d get right under Michael’s skin or if it’d shut him up. It landed on the second one this time, to Michael’s relief.

Max said, “No chain reactions. What we were doing before wasn’t working, okay? I knew I wanted something from Jones, but I couldn’t bring myself to reach out and take it. All you did was force us to make a choice when I would’ve dug my heels in and not been able to for a long time otherwise.”

“The answers you’re looking for, though, you deserve to look for them if it’s what you need,” Michael forged on, battling his clumsy tongue. “I should’ve said that before. You deserve to know who you are and to learn who that is in whatever way you can. Everybody deserves that.”

“Thank you. I mean that. But I was getting so desperate—the things I was thinking of doing—I scared myself, okay? I didn’t think—I don’t think I am that person. And being this person I am right now and who I want to be right now is more important than any answers about the past, if that’s what it means to find them.”

Michael sat with that, looking Max up and down, sitting with his own feelings as much as Max’s words. Parsing his own reactions to Max was something he took steadier, more carefully than most other things in his life. It was a set of muscles he needed to practice with as much as he needed to get power back to his telekinesis.

“Okay, man. I respect that,” he said finally, leaning over the table to punch Max in the shoulder. Max made a face and rubbed that spot.

“Ow, man, thanks, I guess.”

“Damn, did I get you in your writing arm?”

“Try my drink-mixing arm. If I’m off tonight, I’m ratting you out to Maria.”

Michael let out a scandalized noise and slipped out of the booth.

“Where are you going?” Max laughed, dark eyes shining with life in a way Jones’s never could. For all they were identical, Michael barely saw the resemblance.

“To lay low, what do you think? You’re makin’ me a fugitive.”

“Uh huh. Good luck; you know she’s just going to ask Alex.”

“Damn it. The things I do for love.”

A smile on his own face as soon as he turned his back, Michael was almost at the door when Max called his name and he turned to face him again.

“Michael? Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Asking. Listening.”

Those two words held a lifetime of desperate loneliness between them, and Michael would be sitting with that, too, as long as he was holding it in his head, making it a conscious decision, to do right by his brother.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said.

“I wanted to,” Max replied simply.

“Well in that case…I guess you’re welcome.”

Michael’s phone buzzed in his pocket, not the single pulse of a text but the longer jangling of a phone call. He fished it out, smiling when he saw the name, and he didn’t even wait to get privacy from Max before answering.

“Alex—”

“Thank God. Where are you, Michael? Are you okay?”

“Alex? I’m fine, I’m at the Pony, what’s wrong—”

Max hurried to Michael’s side.

Alex repeated, “Thank god. Don’t come home, do you hear me? Do not come back to the house until I give you the all clear. Stay with Max and Maria.”

“What? No!”

But the line cut off midway through his protest, leaving him with nothing but the dial tone.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

New Years Day’s Ash Costello: “I try not to give a f**k, like Marilyn Manson”

The lessons life has taught New Years Day frontwoman Ash Costello

Ash Costello has seen the best and the worst the music industry has to offer. Her band, Californian goth-metallers New Years Day, rose to prominence in the 00s on the back of MySpace buzz, only to find their career derailed when their record label went under following the release of the band’s debut album, My Dear. Where lesser bands would have crumbled, Costello refused to give up and eventually got things back on track with the follow-up, 2013’s Victim To Villain. Since then, she and NYD haven’t looked back, releasing their aptly-titled fourth album Unbreakable in 2019. This is what she’s learned from a life at the sharp end of the music industry.

Never have regrets

“In 2008-2009, New Years Day got shelved by a now- bankrupt record label and we didn’t even own our name so we couldn’t do anything for two years. That was really depressing but would I go back and warn myself not to sign to that record label? No way: everything happened exactly as it should. I’m a big hippy at heart; I’d rather let the universe point me in the direction, that’s how I’ve always lived my life and it’s worked out for me. I feel like I walk amongst my peers my age and at the same level as New Years Day and I feel like I know so much more than them. I’ve been in a band since I was 14, I’ve seen and been through it all, so a lot of people come to me for help, but at the same time I know I still have so much to learn.”

Social media opened up my world

“It’s so strange to think how much the music industry has changed since the MySpace days, but I was around even before social media came in. I was printing flyers and standing outside venues advertising to people from that area, there wasn’t a way to advertise to people across the world like there is now. The only thing more helpful than social media to artists is the home studio experience; since Pro Tools became accessible to everybody, anybody can make a demo or album in their bedroom.”

Keep your eyes on the prize

“I read somewhere that if you want to make it, you have to be obsessed with your craft, which I really am. I live this scene – it’s all I think about. Every day, I think about what’s going on in the scene around me and in other scenes outside of mine. I’m watching everything 24 hours a day. I make it a point to learn as much as possible every day.”

Sisters are doing it for themselves

“I can see how hard it is for bands to put butts on seats and sell tickets to shows, not a lot of bands can do that. So for only a three-band bill of three women selling out arenas one after another like it’s nothing, I know enough to know that’s a big deal. Our tour with Halestorm and In This Moment isn’t even finished yet – we have the UK and Europe left to go – but I never want it to end. To the credit of Lzzy Hale and Halestorm, though, they don’t need In This Moment and New Years Day to do that. They could do it just fine on their own.”

Sharing is caring

“Our label president came to our hotel room and saw all of our makeup and he goes, ‘Is this for both you guys?’ And Nikki [Misery, guitar] went, ‘Yeah, we share both our makeup.’ And they all ended up talking about how women’s makeup is better anyway. I’ve taught Nikki how to do his makeup – when we met, it was ghastly. He was using his fingers to put on eyeliner, I had to show him that there was an actual pencil and/or a brush to do that! He’s got really good now though, I don’t have to look over his shoulder anymore.”

Always be yourself… or be Marilyn Manson

“There’s a combination of front-people who, if they didn’t exist, without a doubt I would not be who I am, and Marilyn Manson is absolutely one of them. Both artistically, in his personality and his overall worldview, too, obviously his music is part of it but it’s more his intellect that inspired me. He’s intelligent and very well-spoken, very to-the-point and there’s no bullshit there. I’ve tried to not give a fuck like he does, but sometimes I fall off the wagon and I lash out at someone online who says something stupid. I have to remind myself, ‘This isn’t what Marilyn Manson would do, reel it in!’”

Gwen Stefani is an underrated idol

“Gwen Stefani has been a huge influence in my life since I was 10 years old, she’s the perfect mix of masculine and feminine. When she gets onstage, she’s incredibly powerful like one of the guys, but she’s not overly masculine, she’s still very cute and feminine. I don’t think she gets enough credit for mixing the two so flawlessly, especially when we all look back on her work. People accept her and move on but they don’t stop to think that what she does must have been very difficult.”

The best fashion statements are accidents

“I didn’t expect the popular response to my hair. A lot of people think it was calculated but that’s giving me way too much marketing and branding credit. It happened a long time ago, way before I started taking social marketing classes. I’ve dyed my hair since I was 10 and I’ve tried every colour combination and style you can think of. I just happened to do this one day around the time my band started taking off and people really liked it, so I kept it. I wish I could say there was a drawn-out thought process but there really wasn’t. What’s crazy is there are wigs out there that have definitely ripped off a photo of me on their packaging and people come to our shows wearing those wigs!”

Being a role model is tough

“I feel a lot of pressure to be a good role model but I’m very vocal that I’m an accidental role model. I didn’t ask to be one but I’ll do my best with the position and the importance of it. I try to use my voice for good as much as I can. My favourite thing we did on Warped Tour was when I had a class every day that 50-100 kids could sign up for, and I would talk to them about their issues and how much I understand the pressure they’re going through. Being a kid today with social media, I can’t imagine the pressure they’re under every day. We never had that as kids and it’s fucking them up. At this time depression, self-harm and suicide is at a high rate, and I think that definitely correlates to the influence of social media.”

Life goes on

“I’ve been on Warped Tour seven times over 10 years, the most any female musician has been on Warped. It’s a huge part of my life and that’s a whole decade to me, it’s one of the things that inspired me to pursue music and give my band a chance. Without it, I think it’s going to be very hard for smaller bands to get traction and exposure but, as a music listener and lover, I know things move on. Look at all the tours over the years that were so important and TV shows that were so important to exposing bands on a mass level; they have all come and gone but music has been just fine.”

Pick yourself up and dust yourself off

“My clothing brand Bat Royalty was one of the shittiest lessons in my life. Explaining it in terms of music: my bat boots, that have been copied by three dozen companies now, were the equivalent of writing a No.1 song. Imagine you’ve been in a band for a long time, you’ve written a song that’s gone to No.1, and the label rips it all out from underneath you as soon as you’ve finally made it. They take away the money you made for it and your rights to it, they take its chance of success afterwards. It was a very successful company but because of a lawsuit over my product, you can lose that success as quickly as you gained it.”

[joannalannister]

Do you think grrm could have based the targaryens on the aryan race? Their obsession with keeping their Valariyn blood pure, with being exceptional and special (superior = master race anyone ?). Their looks set them apart from the rest of westeros too, they're meant to have white hair (blonde hair) and violet eyes (blue eyes). They seem like a mix of colonizers and arryans the more deeply I think about them, a Targaryen restoration seems like the worst possible idea to me.

Why would you ask me, a Lannister blog? Me, a Lannister blog. Yet here I am hoisting the Targaryen banner; the things this fandom makes me do smh. Nobody’s even gonna read a post this long but I’m not doing this by halves. 

So, GRRM has said that the Targaryens have an “obsession with the purity of their blood”. Let’s look at the text to get more details:

The tradition amongst the Targaryens had always been to marry kin to kin. Wedding brother to sister was thought to be ideal. Failing that, a girl might wed an uncle, a cousin, or a nephew; a boy, a cousin, aunt, or niece. This practice went back to Old Valyria, where it was common amongst many of the ancient families, particularly those who bred and rode dragons. “The blood of the dragon must remain pure,” the wisdom went.

The way the Old Valyrians maintained a “pure bloodline” was by marrying “kin to kin”. Marrying one Valyrian-blooded person to another Valyrian-blooded person was not enough in Old Valyria to keep the blood of the dragon “pure.”

What historical precedents could GRRM have been drawing on when he wrote that Targaryens  “marry kin to kin”? Fortunately we don’t need to speculate, especially when speculation leads to … this anon. GRRM has told us that he based the Targaryens on the Ptolemaic dynasty, which ruled Egypt from 323BC to 30BC:

The Targaryens have heavily interbred, like the Ptolemys of Egypt. As any horse or dog breeder can tell you, interbreeding accentuates both flaws and virtues, and pushes a lineage toward the extremes. Also, there’s sometimes a fine line between madness and greatness. Daeron I, the boy king who led a war of conquest, and even the saintly Baelor I could also be considered “mad,” if seen in a different light. ((And I must confess, I love grey characters, and those who can be interpreted in many different ways. Both as a reader and a writer, I want complexity and subtlety in my fiction))  [SSM]

The Ptolemaic dynasty included Cleopatra, who married her brothers and whose parents were the products of incestuous unions to keep their Macedonian bloodline pure. Here is an interesting article comparing Daenerys and Cleopatra. Another fun article. (I am throwing this wish out into the void that I would like to see in-depth Dany-Cleopatra comparisons on my dash please.)

It’s interesting to me to read that the doylist reason GRRM chose to include interbreeding among Targaryens to accentuate “both flaws and virtues.” To me, GRRM has written ASOIAF as a story much larger than life, like the Paul Bunyan of fantasy, with impossibly large castles and impossibly vast geography and impossibly long seasons, an oversized place where GRRM’s characters do superhuman feats. GRRM’s characters have glaring flaws, but they also have glorious virtues to which I can only aspire. That’s the point tho. That’s one reason why we read: to see ourselves, only magnified. 

Why do Targaryens have a tendency to interbreed and keep their Valyrian blood pure? GRRM says the Targaryens intermarried to avoid conflict. It’s a matter of  common sense to avoid fights when giant fire-breathing lizards are involved, as the Dance of the Dragons illustrates. 

The Targaryens are the extreme example of that policy [to reinforce the family’s bloodline]: they only marry within the family to keepthe purity of the blood, and that way you avoid the problem of having several candidates for thethrone or the rule of the family. 

If you have a generation of five brothers and each of them hasseveral children (sons?), after two or three generations you could find yourself with thirtypotential heirs: there could be thirty people named Lannister or Frey, and that produces conflict,because all of them are going to get involved in hereditary fights for the throne. 

That’s what originated the War of the Roses; An excess of candidates for the throne, all of themdescendants of Edward III. Laking an heir (like Henry VIII) is just as bad as having too many ofthem. If you have five sons and you want to avoid that kind of problem, maybe it’s not such abad idea to marry the firstborn girl of the oldest son with the third son (or with the firstborn of thethird son?), and that way you avoid fights and the bloodline remains united

Something to note about this SSM entry is that GRRM was discussing all this blood purity stuff in the context of Tywin. The asker was literally asking why Tywin married Joanna, and GRRM answered that it was a love match and to reinforce the Lannister bloodline. Now, why would GRRM jump to discussions of blood purity when Tywin Lannister comes up?? Why ever could that be?? 

I know why. If we’re looking for the family that was inspired by fascist ideology, we don’t need to look far. 

This issue of blood purity is a way to maintain dynastic power in a feudal system. 

Which is bad, in the sense that feudalism is inherently a bad system, especially in comparison to, say, democracy. Even Ned Stark’s benevolent feudalism is bad compared to democracy. Lemme say that again - Even Stark feudalism is bad. 

There should be a populist revolution in Westeros and literally every noble should lose their aristocratic status and wealth and power, and all this wealth and power should be redistributed to the common people, and everyone in Westeros should be given equal rights and there should be free and open elections to choose democratic representatives. 

But I suspect anon isn’t interested in TWOW detailing their fav aristos losing all their fancy jewels and samite, and I don’t think anon is making signs saying “Down with feudalism! Down with monarchy! Down with the aristocracy! Eat the rich!” Somehow I really don’t think that’s what this anon is campaigning for. 

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(Note to self: is there a correlation between real-world economic systems and the types of fantasy produced under those systems? In other words, does capitalism motivate medieval fantasyland? And how do real-world levels of income inequality influence income-inequality in fantasyland? These are questions I am interested in.)

*~*~*~*~*~*

 Anyways.

If we accept feudalism as par for the course in medieval fantasyland, I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing that the nobility wants to maintain their dynastic power in a feudal system. It’s what they do with that power that’s important. 

As the original asker of this SSM question pointed out, marriages are a way of maintaining power and building alliances in a feudal system, but such marriages also raise up the lesser House and make it more powerful

For example, I believe Lord Roger Reyne wanted to marry one of his sons to Genna Lannister to gain more power in the Westerlands, but was thwarted when Tytos betrothed Genna to Emmon Frey instead. Similarly, the previous Lord Reyne, Lord Robert Reyne, arranged a marriage between his daughter Ellyn Reyne and Gerold’s heir Tywald Lannister. The Reynes wanted more power and influence in the west, perhaps even to go so far as to topple House Lannister and become the dominant House in the West. 

The Targaryens face a similar problem, on a much larger scale. Whatever House they marry into, it raises that House up and grants them considerable power, potentially creating a disequilibrium point in the game of thrones and causing more innocents to suffer. (…honestly why do you think Tywin wanted his daughter to be queen?) 

This is why the Targaryens (and all the nobles really) need to consider their marriages (or even mistresses) very carefully. If you choose your partner poorly, without concern for dynastic politics, it could throw the land into chaos. (See: Tytos Lannister, Rhaegar Targaryen, Duncan the Small, etc) 

So, who are the Targaryens marrying? Because anon seems to be making the assumption that the Targs don’t marry outside their bloodline in any significant numbers, and I intend to challenge that assumption. 

The Targaryens certainly do have a tendency to intermarry, as we see in The Sworn Sword:

Egg spoke as if such incest was the most natural thing in the world. For him it is. The Targaryens had been marrying brother to sister for hundreds of years, to keep the blood of the dragon pure. Though the last actual dragon had died before Dunk was born, the dragonkings went on. Maybe the gods don’t mind them marrying their sisters. 

“The Targaryens had been marrying brother to sister for hundreds of years, to keep the blood of the dragon pure.” And yet, despite Dunk’s observation, the Targaryens have been marrying outside of House Targaryen for hundreds of years as well, suggesting to me that dynastic politics rather than blood purity is their greatest concern. 

I will attempt to compile a list of people who are not of Valyrian descent who married a member of House Targaryen. I have not read Fire and Blood yet, so I hope that someone will let me know if I’ve forgotten anyone and I will edit this post to include them (I do not mind spoilers). Any corrections to this list are appreciated. 

Ceryse Hightower 

Elinor Costayne 

Alys Harroway 

Jeyne Westerling

Tyanna of Pentos (Tyanna of the Tower)

Argella Durrandon (who married Targ bastard Orys)

Rodrik Arryn

Rhea Royce

Alicent Hightower

Corwyn Corbray

Garmund Hightower

Rohanne of Tyrosh (who married Daemon Blackfyre)

Michael Manwoody

Ossifer Plumm

Ronnel Penrose

Aelinor Penrose

Betha Blackwood

Dyanna Dayne

Mariah Martell

Maron Martell

Jenna Dondarrion

Kiera of Tyrosh

somebody from House Tarth

Jenny of Oldstones

Lyanna Stark (I believe in R+L=J. I personally do not think R/L got married in the books, but even without a marriage I think this relationship should be included here. When Rhaegar chose someone to have his ice & fire prophecy baby with, he did not choose someone with valyrian blood.)

I think it’s also important to note that there are various Targaryens who wanted relationships outside of House Targaryen, but who couldn’t marry outside their House / couldn’t marry who they wanted, for various reasons. For example, Aerys and Rhaella did not want an incestuous marriage.

And gay marriage is not legal in Westeros but anyways:

Daeron Targaryen, son of Aegon V - in love with Jeremy Norridge

Rhaena Targaryen, daughter of Prince Aenys - idk if she was bisexual or a lesbian or what but Rhaena definitely liked a lotta non-Targ girls, and Westeros is a homophobic, misogynistic place that hates women and hates wlw so it’s not like Rhaena could have married any of these women

I am counting this as (at least) two non-Targ “marriages”. Fight me.

This makes a total of 27 non-Targ relationships. 

There are also instances where a Targ has married someone outside of House Targaryen, but that person has some Valyrian blood. As mentioned above, tho, keeping the blood of the dragon “pure” is defined in the books as marrying “kin to kin” but I will keep this as a distinct subcategory for now. 

Valaena Velaryon

Alyssa Velaryon

Jocelyn Baratheon (valyrian blood through Orys)

Corlys Velaryon

Larra Rogare

Aemma Arryn

Laenor Velaryon

Laena Velaryon

Alyn Velaryon

Daenaera Velaryon

Ormund Baratheon

Elia Martell

This brings us to a total of 39 non-Targ marriages. These 39 marriages do not fit the in-world definition of keeping the blood of the dragon ~pure~. 

So how many Targ*Targ marriages do we know of exactly, so that we can figure out if blood purity was the main concern for House Targaryen?

Gaemon and Daenys

Aegon and Elaena

Aegon and Visenya(+Rhaenys)

Aegon and Rhaenys(+Visenya)

Aegon and Rhaena

Jaehaerys I and Alysanne

Baelon and Alyssa

Rhaenyra and Daemon

Aegon II and Helaena

Aegon III and Jaehaera

Aegon IV and Naerys

Baelor and Daena the Defiant

Aelor and Aelora

Aerion and Daenora

Jaehaerys II and Shiera

Aerys and Rhaella

I’ll list Targ*Targ affairs too to make it fair, since I included potential gay marriages above:

Aegon IV/Daena the Defiant

Brynden/Shiera 

Aemon the Dragonknight/Naerys (this is only speculated and I honestly don’t actually think this was consummated but let’s throw it in here)

This is a total of 19 Targ*Targ relationships. 

It is possible I’ve forgotten someone and I appreciate corrections. 

So I have a total of 58 relationships here in my sample. 

25+12+2+16+3 = 58

Let’s break that down:

~pure dragon blood~ relationships = 19/58 = 32.8%

~impure~ relationships = 39/58 = 67.2%

Roughly two-thirds of known Targaryen relationships do not keep the blood of the dragon “pure” by the book definition of blood purity. 

If you wish to break the ~impure~ relationships down further:

Targ*Valyrian-blooded relationships = 12/58 = 20.7%

Targ*non-Valyrian-blooded relationships = 27/58 = 46.6%

At the very minimum, at least 46% of Targ relationships were not motivated by blood purity reasons. Note, I think this number is too low, because like Queen Victoria “the grandmother of Europe” and her descendants, the nobility tend to intermarry a lot (because of classism). People like Aemma Arryn have valyrian blood because everyone is intermarrying. 

I will say again, roughly two-thirds of known Targaryen relationships do not keep the blood of the dragon “pure” by the book definition. 

Targaryens intermingled with the people of Westeros, they didn’t keep their blood “pure”. This is a very different attitude from, say, the 20th century anti-miscegenation laws that made it illegal for people of different races to have sex. 

I already pointed out above how GRRM has said these incestuous unions were motivated at least in part by dynastic politics. Could there be any other reasons?

Why did the valyrians before the Doom all practice incest? The “blood of the dragon” is not just about valyrians marrying valyrians, although that’s how anon is trying to spin it. The text specifically says that maintaining “the blood of the dragon” is about marrying “kin to kin.”  

We do not yet know why the valyrians practiced incest. Why is it important that “the blood of the dragon must remain pure”? It has not yet been explained. But there are theories. @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly​​ has already addressed this issue, so I will refer you to her posts: 1, 2 and her entire tag for #the blood of the dragon.

Why is it important that “the blood of the dragon must remain pure”?

I don’t know, but we’re definitely not reading books with magic. We’re definitely not reading books with blood magic. We’re definitely not reading books with giant magical fire-breathing lizards. We definitely don’t need easy ways to control those lizards. Definitely not. 

I mean, we still don’t know exactly what “the blood of the dragon” means but I  think what GRRM wrote with House Targaryen’s incestuous ~blood purity~ is something different from Aryanism. 

Which isn’t to say that all this blood purity bullshit GRRM wrote shouldn’t be criticized. Placing importance on the ~purity~ of someone’s blood in any context is … not a good look. GRRM has been kinda playing this trope straight so far, but I am hoping he smashes it in future books; Tyrion is eager to ride a dragon, and A plus J does not equal T.  

To quote what @moonlitgleek​​ said:

I hate it when people start talking about percentage of Valyrian blood as if that’s the measure of who rides a dragon. Whip up your calculators, everyone. We need to figure out how much Valyrian blood it takes to ride a dragon, be the subject of prophecy or be a savior. Anyone below a certain percentage can not measure.

This blood purity bullshit is bad, I actually agree with anon on that. But I’m not sure why that means we should condemn the entirety of House Targaryen. 

Especially when GRRM loves the Targaryens so much he keeps writing history books about them instead of finishing the series…

Like, from Fire and Blood, Jaehaerys I and Alysanne Targaryen are one of those Targ*Targ marriages that I admit help reinforce Targ blood purity. But this marriage was how Alysanne exercised her own bodily autonomy, by marrying who she wanted, because she and Jaehaerys had their dragons and no one was able to stop them. But anon … anon gonna call that Aryanism …

Anyways. I want to move on to anon’s other claims, but first I think it might be useful to define Aryanism, since anon seems to think it is about marrying brother to sister, which it is not. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aryanism grew out of 19th century fascist ideologies. The term Aryan is related to the root -arya which is related to a Sanskrit word meaning “honorable, respectable, noble.” In the mid- to late-1800s, the term “Aryan race” was coopted by racists to justify their repellant “scientific racism” that claimed that “blond” Germanic / Nordic / Northern European people were a “superior race.” Note that “blond” is specifically mentioned by these ~scientists~ espousing their racist ideology. They claimed that “Aryans” were “natural leaders, destined to rule over” the other races. According to Jackson Spielvogel, Hitler described the Slavic peoples as “a mass of born slaves who feel the need of a master.” Himmler said, “whether nations live in prosperity or starve to death interests me only insofar as we need them as slaves for our culture. Otherwise it is of no interest.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Anon was correct that racial superiority is a characteristic of Aryanism. 

But do the Targaryens consider themselves to be a superior race to the other peoples of Westeros, or other peoples in general?  

GRRM says he wanted the Targaryens to be “a race apart”:

Speaking of Valyria… right from the start I wanted the Targaryens, and by extension the Valryians from whom they were descended, to be a race apart, with distinctive features that set them apart from the rest of Westeros, and helped explain their obsession with the purity of their blood. To do this, I made a conventional ‘high fantasy’ choice, and gave them silver-gold hair, purple and violet eyes, fine chiseled aristocratic features. That worked well enough, at least in the books (on the show, less so).

But in recent years, it has occured to me from time to time that it might have made for an interesting twist if instead I had made the dragonlords of Valyria… and therefore the Targaryens… black. Maybe I could have kept the silver hair too, though… no, that comes too close to 'dark elf’ territory, but still… if I’d had dark-skinned dragonlords invade and conquer and dominate a largely white Westeros… though that choice would have brought its own perils. The Targaryens have not all been heroic, after all… some of them have been monsters, madmen, so…

Well, it’s all moot. The idea came to me about twenty years too late.

What does it mean to be “a race apart”? Does “apart” automatically mean superior? To me, “apart” here means different or distinct.  But does that mean “superior”?

I’ve already addressed the fact that Targaryens are on average twice as likely to marry someone outside their House than to marry a Targaryen, so I don’t think the incest can be used to say the House as a whole claims superiority. 

There are certainly some Targaryens who view themselves as racially superior. Aerys Targaryen comes to mind; he said of his newborn granddaughter that she “smells dornish.” The Blackfyre cause is certainly racist (for example, Team Blackfyre did not like it that their ~precious white princess~ Daenerys Targaryen, was married to Maron Martell). There are many other Targaryens who were racist. But racism isn’t exclusive to members of House Targaryen. Many nobles in Westeros are racist: Joffrey, Cersei, Tywin - but we were talking about House Targaryen.

What of Daeron Targaryen, who married a Dornish princess, who surrounded himself with Dornishmen and women and artists and intellectuals, and he wanted to include all these people at his court? I don’t know where the textual evidence is that King Daeron adopted an attitude of racial superiority.

What of Maegelle Targaryen? Would you truly accuse her of an attitude of superiority? Maegelle was a septa who nursed children with greyscale, until she herself caught greyscale and died. 

When Aegon the Conqueror became high king, he adopted some Westerosi customs to assimilate. For example, 

Heraldic banners had long been a tradition amongst the lords of Westeros, but such had never been used by the dragonlords of old Valyria. When Aegon’s knights unfurled his great silken battle standard, with a red three-headed dragon breathing fire upon a black field, the lords took it for a sign that he was now truly one of them, a worthy high king for Westeros.

Aegon the Conqueror literally wanted to join with the Westerosi nobles and become one of them. Compare this to Tywin, who disparages nobles from another continent as nothing but "spice soldiers and cheese lords”. So who has the superior attitude? 

And what of Daenerys Targaryen? Dany embraces the Dothraki customs of her husband. (Contrast this with how her brother Viserys belittles the Dothraki.) Daenerys befriends orphans, former prostitutes, former slaves, people of many different races. I don’t think Daenerys adopts an attitude of racial superiority. (It’s true that GRRM does fall into some racist tropes when he writes ASOIAF, but I don’t think this means that Daenerys supports Aryanism, or that GRRM was inspired by white supremacy when he first imagined Daenerys. (Like, srsly, wtf??) Daemon Blackfyre I can definitely see being inspired by white supremacist movements in the real world, but Daenerys?)

Anon accuses the Targaryens of being “exceptional and special”. idk I thought controlling dragons was special.  Kinda like controlling direwolves is special. Controlling magical creatures is special. But I didn’t think controlling magical creatures made you a fascist or a supporter of Aryanism. 

If you want to make the case for a group of white people in ASOIAF posing as ~the master race~, I would actually suggest the valyrians of Old Valyria. The sorcerer-princes of Old Valyria captured and enslaved people and used people to fuel their magical empire. The attitude of Old Valyria actually seems very similar to that Himmler quote I gave you above:  “whether nations live in prosperity or starve to death interests me only insofar as we need them as slaves for our culture. Otherwise it is of no interest.” The dragonlords of Old Valyria definitely colonized other places and practiced imperialism. 

But the Targaryens were like the hillbillies of Old Valyria. They weren’t very powerful. Shortly before the Doom they relocated to a rock in the middle of nowhere on the edge of the Valyrian empire, and then the Doom and the Century of Blood meant suddenly the Targs were on top by accident (and a really smart woman). It’s like an episode of The Dukes of Hazzard or The Beverly Hillbillies, and this is why Tywin and his ancestors before him were so fucking pissed, because who the fuck even is this hillbilly targ family with their ~dRAgoNs~ and their ~InCeSt~ that’s ~bEtTeR~ than our ~LAnNiCeSt~ and ~~~We were kings in Casterly Rock for thousands of years, so who the fuck are these hicks~~~

Anon mentions the characteristic silver-gold hair and purple eyes of House Targaryen. GRRM explains that he “made a conventional 'high fantasy’ choice, and gave them silver-gold hair, purple and violet eyes, fine chiseled aristocratic features.” 

Is there racism in conventional high fantasy? Yeah. 

Does ASOIAF have racist writing? Yeah. 

Is GRRM playing some of those racist tropes straight instead of subverting them? Yeah. 

Could GRRM do better? Yeah. GRRM himself thinks he might have made the Targaryens dark-skinned.

Despite GRRM’s racist writing, I don’t think this means that the Targaryens as GRRM wrote them are all, without exception, terrible people. 

I would also like to point out that House Targaryen exhibits a variety of phenotypes. They are not all the same, they’re not all blond and fair and ~Nordic looking~. Here is a partial list of Targaryens without the traditional look. If someone has statistics on the percentage of Targs without Valyrian features, I would appreciate a link, but I’m math’d out right now. 

Speaking broadly, House Targaryen has certainly done some terrible things. For example, I think the Targaryen conquest of Dorne was imperialistic. Many people have already addressed imperialism in ASOIAF in detail, so I will refer you to this tag. 

Was Aegon’s Conquest of Westeros a good thing, or a bad thing? I don’t know. Truly I don’t know - there is good and bad both in what Aegon the Conqueror did. 

GRRM says this about him:

“Aegon finally decided to take over Westeros, and unify the Seven Kingdoms (that existed at the time) under a single rule. There is a lot of speculation that, in some sense, he saw what was coming 300 years later, and wanted to unify the Seven Kingdoms to be better prepared for the threat that he eventually saw coming from the North – the threat that we’re dealing with in A Song of Ice and Fire.” 

Individually, some Targaryens were certainly awful. Others were good and kind. Some of them were mediocre. I think we should evaluate these characters individually, instead of condemning an entire family. I think that is what GRRM is trying to get us to do, judge each character individually based on their crimes and/or their heroism. 

“a Targaryen restoration seems like the worst possible idea“

Anon thinks the worst possible thing that could happen to Westeros is that Dany becomes queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

That’s “the worst possible idea” of what could happen. 

The Others could win the War for the Dawn and enslave/murder every single living creature on Terros. That’s a distinct possibility. 

But anon would rather have every single person on Terros die than for Dany to become queen of the Seven Kingdoms? 

And people say this fandom isn’t misogynistic. 

I really don’t think it would be a bad thing for a person as compassionate as Daenerys Targaryen to become queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

Westeros could certainly do worse than Dany. The Lannisters could stay in power, for example. 

Cuz you know which family is repeatedly described as blond and fair and there is a LOT of uniformity in their appearance? Which family didn’t want to marry a Dornish girl? Which family described the Westerlings as “doubtful blood” and wouldn’t marry them? Which family had a common girl gang raped because the heir married her? Cuz it sure wasn’t Aegon V’s family.

Who said Lannisters are “worth more” than other people? Who captured and enslaved people at Harrenhal while burning their lands?

Tywin Lannister did that. GRRM ain’t exactly subtle about pointing out the fascist. It’s Tywin and Randyll and people like them who are the fascist who support Aryanism.

Daenerys is repeatedly in direct opposition to Tywin’s philosophies. Daenerys is one of the heroes. She’s a complex, well-written hero. She flirts with darkness but ultimately rejects it. She’s a grey, complicated hero. 

This fandom doesn’t deserve Dany, but she’s gonna save the world anyway.

[defenestrata]

Jiwon (the only enfp I will stan 👀) + all

you just want me dead. also if anyone is interested first thank u sm i love u ur my new best friend. and secondly here’s the pinterest with all my babes discussed so far on it !! brunner is erich, kim is hyeonjin and choi is jiwon. 

QUESTIONS FOR YOUR OCs

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

like three seconds ? jiwon has the attention span of a goldfish and must be constantly entertained otherwise he’ll die

How easy is it for your character to laugh?

so, so, so easy ! my boy is a ray of sunshine. he’s laughing at his own goddamn joke before he even tells it.

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

listen ? whale songs and all that cutesy stuff ? for losers. if you’re a real alpha you surf youtube for eight hours till your eyes straight up don’t work anymore.

How easy is it to earn their trust?

surprisingly difficult. jiwon has a big circle of acquaintances that he’ll do a lot of things for but if you want to know the man’s deepest darkest insecurities you won’t get them very easily. he has only four or so friends that he would trust that shit to.

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

again, not very easy. jiwon is not very good at cutting people out, and he tends to keep giving people second chances to sully his trust again and again. save this fool.

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

laws are generally there for a reason, and jiwon respects most of them. and the fact that they exist makes it all the more fun for him to try and break some of the lesser ones like speeding laws. on a scale of 0 meaning inflexible to 10 meaning ‘a light suggestion’, jiwon considers laws to be a 6. 

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

meeting younger people and generally being in environments previously visited may sometimes trigger a feeling of nostalgia in him. but this isn’t very frequent. he’s always thinking about the new, not the old. the rare times he does experience nostalgia, he can get kind of mournful about it — where did the good old days go.

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

child jiwon was louder and more confrontational than adult jiwon. one story i am absolutely convinced happened was that he was painting in the first grade when the teacher came up to him, looked at his work and said ‘it’s wonderful but don’t you think it needs more colour?’ so my man jc dipped his fingers in paint and held her cheeks saying ‘you need more colour!’ so, yeah, he definitely was told to be nicer and more respectful.

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

jiwon swears without abandon, but doesn’t have a natural inclination towards especially vulgar words. his first swear word was probably 년 ( equivalent of bitch ). likely directed at his sister.

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

jiwon’s parents and sister are pretty liberal, and he’s managed to get his way without offending them too much. he’s only ever frequently lied to teachers about work and skipping classes, and occasionally to the house warden about why his window was open, and why so many stones were thrown at the finley hall down the street. no, it absolutely doesn’t haunt him; it’s too insignificant.

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

ask. ask like sixty questions. sometimes he’ll play devil’s advocate and poke holes in people’s knowledge. just as a test, you know.

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

you know how baloo in the jungle book rubs against a tree when his back itches. yeah. he tries to make it look natural. 

What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

i mean, jiwon’s face and body ensures that he looks good in any colour. and he also believes he looks good in any colour. 

What animal do they fear most?

listen. jiwon doesn’t trust horses. back when he was 14 or so, he wanted to learn to ride and for some reason the horses didn’t take to his absolutely irresistible charm. the one called johnny knocked him off after less than ten seconds. other than that he’s also not a fan of rats and crows.

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

jiwon speaks with ease, he’s fluent in the language of flattery and charm. he hates to put too much thought it what he says, and can end up mumbling a lot if he’s distracted. 

What makes their stomach turn?

the idea that one day he’ll have to start wearing suits and talking to shareholders and live a normal, boring working life. oh, and rollercoasters and oysters. 

Are they easily embarrassed?

jiwon is near impossible to embarass. his confidence in himself mixed with a natural talent at shrugging what may even be serious things off as jokes enables him to take everything in his stride. compliment him ? he’s flattered. insult him ? he’s unbothered. upload a picture of him spongebob underpants on twitter ? he’ll retweet with 😍.

What embarrasses them?

the only thing that might embarass him to any degree is being reprimanded in public. he has an image as a good boy gone bad with a heart of gold that’s he’s cultivated in the years he’s been on social media. so interrupting that with a lecture about responsibility in public ? no thanks. 

What is their favorite number?

10. a perfect score, his birthday, just a nice number. 

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

jiwon doesn’t think about this much, but he doesn’t make a big difference between platonic and familial love. his best friends are family, and his sister is his best, best friend. he figures that romantic love and sexual attraction are correlated (which of course isn’t really true but). aka, if you wouldn’t mind banging them, you’re probably in romantic love.  

Why do they get up in the morning?

to upload a good morning ‘woke up like this’ selfie, duh. nah but on a more serious note — because each day is a day that he’s gonna have fun, right ? wrong.

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

jealous jiwon is … messy. the last time jiwon got jealous was about his girlfriend in high school, and he made it a point to act extremely romantic and charming whenever rivals for her affection were around. that, and he was remarkably cruel with anyone he considered so. if he was ignored, he’d get mopey. 

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

jiwon doesn’t feel envy one goddamn bit. life is so good, other people envy him. be a better bitch not a bitter bitch, is his motto. of course, it’s easier to be better when you’re the one with a hundred million wons to your name. 

Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom?

again, liberal family. jiwon has no trouble talking about sex. with his friend vicki from school, with hyeonjin (although he’d rather not hear), with anyone but family (for obvious reasons). he gets annoyed about the conservatism of society on the topic, especially among the elder generation. 

What are their thoughts on marriage?

marriage is — okay. he still feels way too young to be even thinking about marrying, but he’s not averse to the idea. 

What is their preferred mode of transportation?

jiwon’s very glad you asked. in the spring of his 19th year, god aka his father got him a ducati panigale bike to celebrate his graduation. that baby is his goddamn pride and joy, and he zooms everywhere he can on it. the only problem is that it’s constantly on and off — every time his mother hears of a new motorcycle accident she forbids its use. 

What causes them to feel dread?

the future in general. realising that he’s going to have to buckle down after college. also, i don’t know about you, but have you noticed that hyeonjin’s acting really weird lately ? like, he barely talks on the phone anymore, looks exhausted, goes out to strange places at night. weird. hope he’s okay. 

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

jiwon doesn’t like being lied to, period. hypocrite that he is, he has no trouble telling white lies to cover his ass. but, telling a lie to cover something unpleasant — he’d rather not. it’s him who’s going to deal with consequences if the truth comes out.  

Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

well, his ideal, so to speak, would be a legendary actor/musician with millions of adoring fans around the world. so no, he hasn’t really gotten to that point yet but he’s getting there, chill. 

Who do they most regret meeting? 

well, nobody. #noregrets. actually no there was this one bitch in 9th grade who used to keep calling him oppa even when he told her to quit —

Who are they the most glad to have met?

hyeonjin. best friends since they were like seven. haven’t ever had a major argument. plenty of minor ones, but what do you do. vicki, a closeted lesbian pal for whom jiwon was a beard for a couple of months. she’s amazing. 

Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke? 

at least six hundred. there was the time that he crashed his bike at his country club. another time that he almost died while on a glass bridge in the mountains in china. oh, how about that time that he was almost scouted for uh…. adult movies ? not exactly the talent range he was intending to go for.  

Could they be considered lazy?

if jiwon doesn’t want to do something, he won’t. and that’s the tea. he’ll get it done through a third party, or just let it die until he finishes it in a 2 am red bull panic. 

How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?

obviously depends on the severity of the event, but in general — jiwon’s pretty good at moving on from things. he’s especially good at changing subject and throwing himself into something new, forgetting the past entirely. 

How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?

ehhhhh a catch here. if you’re close to him, yes, he will try to be excited for you. but you can’t really force him to be excited about anything. if you start talking about how absolutely mindblowing axolotls are, he’ll nod and zone out. 

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap?

seek out. life’s too short for anything else. 

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)?

my man makes little jingles about everything. it’s honestly pretty annoying at this point. his magnum opus would have to be the english conjugation table rap. it was popular at his old school for months.

What memory do they revisit the most often?

memories are kind of fuzzy with him, he doesn’t remember the details of places as much as he does the feeling of them. some select memories are of dance nights at ketterbridge ( his english boarding school ) and holidays in jeju, kyoto, bangkok and hawaii. what can i say, he’s a big fan of beaches. 

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?

fairly easy. unless he’s being especially catty, which he certainly can be, people’s flaws don’t matter to him. he’ll make up for them. and if they share flaws ? too bad. the world will have to deal. 

How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

not much, no. i’d say his biggest flaw is detachment from reality and his sheltered lifestyle. he doesn’t know how to do anything on his own. if he was abandoned somewhere (not even like a deserted island, i’m talking apartment in seoul) he’d die. but because it’s unlikely he’ll ever have to be alone ( devil emoji at least that’s what he thinks ) he doesn’t really care about his own flaws.

How do they feel about children?

on surface level, jiwon looks amazing with kids. they’re funny, he’s funny, they’re reckless and silly, he’s reckless and silly. but jiwon would be an awful, awful father, and he knows it. handling a kid is too much work, he doesn’t like hanging with them, because it’s like hanging with slightly less capable clones. 

How badly do they want to reach their end goal?

here’s the thing. his end goal is to become a legendary actor/musician. the path he chooses to follow to get there is still really unclear in his head — he has an impression that it’ll just happen. 

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so?

jiwon would just say he likes cute girls, and because all girls are cute, he likes all girls. i envision him as bisexual with a ginormous preference for women. he definitely express attraction to men, but brushes it off as bro stuff. basically, when hyeonjin confesses to him later in the plot, he’s going to be pretty confused emoji. like … he’s straight … but he would maybe date hyeonjin ? he doesn’t mind the idea ? what

QUESTIONS FOR CREATORS

A) Why are you excited about this character?

he’s a dumbass !!! also his attitude makes him so much fun to write. constant quips and jokes and not taking anything seriously. also, karma is gonna get him very soon for that sheltered, pampered life he’s been living :) 

B) What inspired you to create them?

uhhh nothing tbh ? i needed a lighthearted foil in hyeonjin’s story, that’s really it, and he evolved over time to be this monstrosity. 

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

not for the first little arc. but after that, absolutely idk what’s gonna happen to my son.

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

actually, jiwon was supposed to be relegated to the position of minor character in hyeonjin’s story, and was never part of the eight mcs of this particular idea. later, after i dropped one of the characters because she was getting a bit controversial, i plopped him in. so his physical appearance was only properly defined once he became an mc. and it hasn’t changed since. 

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

i’d be filled with immense intrigue and admiration and also deep hatred. like he’s a goddamn idiot but i know i’d love his silly sense of humour and his attitude. 

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

just — happiness tbh ? i lov him. he’s my son. 

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

that he doesn’t NOTICE ANYTHING. ffs jiwon TAKE INTEREST in your surroundings and maybe then you’d realise that your friend is STRUGGLING WITH ADDICTION AND BEING INVOLVED IN ORGANISED CRIME. 

H) What trait do you admire most?

he’s just. impossible to insult. that kind of self esteem. where can i buy it. how much is it. is there a warranty

I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe?

yes. although he’d fit in awfully well anywhere tbh. 

J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?

yes, sort of. again, it was mostly related to fleshing out his history, getting a better idea of his family dynamics and so forth. 

[mumsles-blog]

Seven Sisters, blisters on blisters and a misty dawn…

Tuesday 29th August and I’m currently sitting with my feet up nursing some very sore blisters after my most recent 100km walk along the South Coast. Two days later and I can barely shuffle from room to room, what a difference a day or two makes. I’m happy though that I completed this one in just under 23 hours, my fastest time. Thames Path took me 19 hours but that is all flat ground, a very different walk to these hilly ones.

Taping and padding my feet is a priority and I had covered heels, toes and balls of my feet but I hadn’t banked on the massive amount of rough flint paths we would be covering and it’s really tough on your feet. Consequently I’ve ended up with my worst blisters yet and boy do they hurt. It is amazing though how the power of adrenaline, with the help of Nurofen,  gets you through pain, I must have walked over 20km with my feet on fire but I was so determined to get to the end that I just kept going, putting one sore foot in front of the other.

I wonder if this has any correlation to the inner strength that comes to the fore when people are dealing with cancer and other awful diseases. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to make out what I do is anything like that but it does seem like the body and the mind can cope with far more than we sometimes realise and I have been astounded how sufferers of cancer and other dreadful illnesses can rally round and often be the strongest person dealing with it all. To a lesser degree you see people on these challenges who are battling along with all sorts of physical pain and often mental anguish too but a huge majority of them still cover massive distances, another testament to human resilience.

So back to the title and the Seven Sisters…for anyone not aware, these are a series of cliffs between Eastbourne and Seaford. From the beach they appear to be gently undulating hills but trust me when you are walking over them they are anything but gentle, each one is a steep ascent followed by an equally steep slope down. What’s more, I’m sure there are more than seven of them, it felt more like twelve!

But before we even got to these though we had set out from Eastbourne along the seafront, “we” being myself, Alex, the daughter of my best friend Pat who is a large part of my motivation for these walks, and a lady called Stella who we had met up with at the start and who was walking alone. From there we were almost immediately heading up the first hill towards the sadly, infamous Beachy Head. It should just be another clifftop with a stunning view but unfortunately it is where many people have chosen to end their lives and consequently there is an eerie feeling especially where the small wooden crosses and flowers have been placed.  Many of the walkers are raising funds for suicide related charities and I sincerely hope they all manage to get their targets and beyond to save too many more of these being put here.

Coming down from here we reach the first rest stop at Birling Gap. Here the sea is fighting back against the land and taking huge bites out of the cliffs, spitting out chalk and even houses and gardens onto the beach below. Apparently the erosion averages around 1 metre a year, I can certainly remember taking my girls there back in the 90’s when you parked your car near the cliffs and walked back to the café. Today the café is at the cliff edge and the car park level with it and what was a row of seven or eight terraced coastguard cottages are now down to just two. Thankfully the rest stop marquee was a way back from the cliffs so no worries there!

After a quick top up of water and use of the facilities…we called it “water in and water out”, we were off over the aforementioned Seven Sisters and then on to the Cuckmere river, a welcome long walk along flat paths.

Initially we were all pretty evenly matched for pace but I found that all my hill training really paid off again as I was managing to stride up the hills fairly easily. They made me out of breath but the legs were good, no burning calves or tight thigh muscles which I was really pleased about. Alex and Stella found them a bit tougher though, not helped by them having considerably shorter legs than me to be fair. By the time I had used my new found sidestepping down the last hill I could no longer see them behind me so I messaged Alex to say I would carry on and wait at the next stop.

Following the Cuckmere meanders as they are known it was nice to be alongside the river but very hot and absolutely no shade for several miles. As one side of my face and arm got warmer and warmer I did contemplate walking backwards to cook the other side but decided that would no doubt only lead to a spectacular fall. Anyway, I managed to save that until I was almost at the stop when somehow I tripped over in a gateway and ended up on my hands and knees in some mud. Dry as a bone in most places but I managed to find a small stodgy patch to fall in. Thankfully I could clean up shortly after while I waited for the others to join me and pretend it never happened.

Soon we were all off together on the next sector and back up more hills to Firle Beacon, one of the higher points on the South Downs. From here you can see across to Lewes, the County town and another hill, Mount Caburn,  which was surrounded by paragliders, a popular spot for the sport. After a lovely trek across the downs we could see the Amex stadium which meant Brighton and halfway was coming closer. A mini stop at Woodingdean was a chance to patch up Alex’s blistered feet which were quickly becoming more plasters than skin and turning out to be very tough to walk on.  Stella and I were still ok and keeping up our pace which Alex said she couldn’t manage so we ended up heading into Brighton separately.

Somehow we missed the sign for the side street to the seafront which wasn’t a problem as we headed down the next parallel one. It did mean however that we missed the 50km marker which is always a good psychological boost, silly women! Brighton alternated between very quiet residential streets and a real buzz of nightlife on the seafront, together with the lights on the pier, promenade and the stunning new i360 observation tower which was slowly rising up above the seafront like a giant doughnut on a stick.

Into the neighbouring town of Hove and the much anticipated halfway point, although actually at 55km but who cares, it was a chance to remove the boots for a while and have dinner. This was probably an absolute highlight for Stella as she was tucking away the snacks and food at every rest stop. It became a joke that she made a beeline for the food each time leaving others in her wake and restocking her backpack with snacks. She’s right though as you do need to keep fuelling up so you have enough energy to keep going, especially through the night.

Sadly Alex arrived here in a very desolate state having endured extremely painful feet and a panic attack and she knew she could not continue any further particularly as it was toughest bit coming up. We got her sorted with some food and spoke to the organisers to make sure she would be helped to get home, fortunately she lives in Hove so not too far to go to the comforts of her flat. For Stella and me though  it was boots back on, the glamorous head torches out and joining a group to leave on the second half.

Now we came to a very interesting part of the route… back onto the downs and Devils Dyke, a deep valley which is a popular beauty spot. It’s also popular with a particular group of people who like to gather in a car park there for dogging sessions. Anyone who doesn’t know what that means can Google it, I’m not explaining it here!  Suffice it to say that I’m not sure who decided it was a good idea to send us right through the middle of this particular car park but that’s exactly where we went and I think it probably added enormously to the participant’s pleasure to have several hundred potential voyeurs striding past, in our case quite quickly.  As Stella commented as we got to the other side, we weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or a little offended that we didn’t get propositioned. Anyway it seemed fitting that the very next point on the downs route was Fulking Hill….my thoughts exactly!!!

After all that excitement the next couple of stops were fairly uneventful apart from being two of the steepest and highest climbs and the start of the unrelenting flint and chalk paths. They are awful to walk on, hard and unforgiving and great knuckles of flint sticking up all over the place. Absolutely perfect for stubbing toes, rolling ankles and generally making your feet hurt, hence the hideous blisters.  A lot of the time you can’t even walk on the verges as they are sloping and at night with the dew on them the grass was pretty slippery.

The first night stop was north of Shoreham where my friend Pat lived and the second was near the A24, directly south of my home. As always the night stops are a much quieter affair, a lot less people as walkers become more spread out and several people withdraw at each stage. Everyone is drained from the concentration of walking with a limited field of vision as well as obviously being tired from lack of sleep. It’s important to eat and drink still though and keep those reserves topped up…I didn’t need to remind Stella, she managed to find something to eat ok! Black coffee, as ever, is my friend here.

Once again though I hit my wall at 75 to 80km, my nemesis, it never fails to be the harshest part for me, the bit where I do actually wonder why I’m putting myself through it and I retreat inside my own head, full of thoughts of mum and Pat and I keep telling myself it’s nearly done. I even told myself I would never do another challenge…hmmm, I have said that before! The last stop however, was in a stunning location and that helped lift my spirits again. Heading down the last hill to the River Arun at dawn it was all shrouded in a low mist, absolutely beautiful and very atmospheric. Crossing the river on a footbridge with the mist swirling around our feet and on the river below us was one of the sights I won’t forget.

We hadn’t intended to stop here other than the water in and water out bit but we both felt so exhausted from the hard paths that we did take a bit more time. It was sad to see a couple of people having to withdraw at this stage with injuries. I cannot imagine having to give up when you only have 8 km to go, they looked gutted, poor guys.  Once we left here I was relieved to find that we were walking through woods on fairly flat dry mud paths. Unusually this was the only woods we walked through on the whole route. It wasn’t quite so straight forward though as there were loads of large tree roots to negotiate, not easy on tired drunk legs that want to go in a different direction to the rest of your body. You end up looking like you are doing some sort of demented Irish jig trying to negotiate them!

On one small downhill section I felt two blisters burst which is far more painful than if they are manually popped. At least I thought I would get a bit of relief once the initial pain subsided but it wasn’t to be. I discovered later that I had secondary deep blisters under the top ones…I don’t recommend them, they’re not pleasant, every step of the last few kilometres hurt. Another short stretch along the river though and we were soon passing the majestic Arundel castle and heading into the football grounds where the finish was.

Despite our tiredness and extremely sore feet, Stella and I held hands and managed a short and painful jog across the finish line at 2 minutes to 8am Sunday 27th August, 22 hours and 59 minutes after we had set off from Eastbourne.

Prosecco in hand, medals round our necks and with congratulations all round we posed for the obligatory finishers photos and then collapsed into chairs for the recuperation to start. Mark and Amy came down to meet me with Brodie and after a brief chat it was time to give another new walking friend a hug and head home…leaving Stella to wait for her next train home. She didn’t waste her waiting time though, I left her tucking into breakfast, bless her!

So now I’m done for another year, it’s been different again, not all in a good way as I don’t much like this foot pain but it will soon heal and I’ll be back out walking the hills round here with my woof. Aside from that though, it was a stunning walk and through a lot of my home county so it was nice to be reunited with it for a while and I was lucky again with walking buddies, thanks ladies. Stella was great through the night and we managed to laugh a fair bit as well as keep each other’s spirits up.

South Coast was definitely challenging but I did it and most importantly the fundraising has gone up a bit more… Macmillan have now received over £5300 and the overall total for all charities is £6800…I’m chuffed with that. Thanks again to everyone for the donations and also for the ever present support, it really does help me get through it.