Summer Evening, Wheatfield with Setting sun (1888) by Vincent van Gogh
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Summer Evening, Wheatfield with Setting sun (1888) by Vincent van Gogh

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i saw this post on reddit the other day that said jaime's arc in feast is about him becoming tywin and that's not even worth engaging with for just epically stupid levels of ignoring what's in the text but it got me thinking about how much of feast is jaime mining the carcass of tywin's existence for anything of value
jaime's an accidental and reluctant philosopher but there's this overt hand of george element to watching jaime pick through ilyn payne's rooms looking at the absolute wreck that devoted service to tywin made of ilyn's life and you have jaime there dragging ilyn out of his cave into the sunlight to try to give him a chance at living the sort of worthwhile life jaime imagines he once intended to live
there's nothing subtle in the way this relates to jaime's view of his own life.
then jaime's wandering through the crownlands and riverlands looking at the absolute decimation tywin left in his wake with no delusions about tywin's responsibility for it (or his own tbh) which makes it almost magical when jaime reaches down tywin's gullet into the guts of his dad's advice and legacy and looks at the gore he pulls out, weighing and evaluating what's worth using and what isn't. and then he's like well i can use this song as a weapon, i can use words as a weapon, i can weaponize the horror of tywin in a way that spares people the actual physical harm of tywin's favorite methods as much as i possibly can
Ok I need to talk about this for a moment.
It’s the verb here.
Jaime scrambled to his feet.
It’s not rose, it’s not stood up, it’s not got up, it’s not pushed himself to his feet.
Scrambled.
It’s haste, it’s a loss of composure. Immediate movement. Instinct, really.
Throughout the first part his chapters of AFFC, Jaime cannot think about Brienne without reaching for some protective layer of mockery. Everytime he wonders where she is, or remembers her, or hopes she’s alive and well, he cushions those thoughts with insults. Stubborn, ugly, a face that could curdle milk. Wench. The longing for her is there, but so the reflexive need to disguise it from himself.
Then two very specific things happen, shortly from one another:
1) Ronnet Connington. Learning from her ex that she was once engaged, hearing him sneer and mock her. Ronnet laughed. Jaime did not. Golden slap as we all know it. Sending the guy away because he can’t stand the sight of him. After this, something changes in Jaime’s head. The insults disappear. The wench disappears. She becomes Brienne now.
2) He remembers the bath they shared in Harrenhall. It’s a very specific scenario. He’s kind of aroused by Pia hitting on him, and his mind recalls this other time where he was also aroused, when he saw Brienne naked and he had a boner. And he thinks that now, with Pia, he no longer has an excuse like he did before. Which is an astonishing thought when you stop to look at it, because no longer has an excuse for what? The implication is obvious. Deep very very deep down he knows he has been making excuses. It’s interesting because he doesn’t feel the need to excuse his attraction to Pia or to Hildy later on. But he felt the need to do that with Brienne.
And after these two very specific scenes, there’s almost a silence where Brienne is concerned. It’s as if Jaime is deliberately avoiding thinking about her.
And I wonder if it’s because he’s running out of ways of explaining things away. Running out of excuses. He can’t hide behind the insults anymore, behind the disrespect, behind the jokes. He lost the taste for it after Ronnet, he doesn’t want to be Ronnet for Brienne. So silence is the next best defense. Which is Jaime’s preferred method for dealing with anything that genuinely moves or unsettles him and that he’s not ready to confront yet. Avoidance. Ignore it.
And then in his last and only chapter in ADWD, there’s that little thought:
Brienne, where are you?
It almost feels accidental, like something that slipped out before he could stop it.
A few pages later, a guard tells him a woman is demanding words with him.
A moment later, Brienne walks into the tent. For one brief second, before the defenses come up, we see exactly what Brienne causes him when he doesn’t have a moment to compose himself.
He scrambles.
Christmas / Sevenmas / Holiday
in light of the season, i thought i'd share some christmas/holiday/winter themed fics! a healthy mix of asoiaf & got fics (its christmas, after all), just check the fandom tag.
enjoy! as always send love to the authors of these fics!
ASOIAF
Merry & Bright by winterkill (T, 5k, 1/1)
Brienne wasn’t present for the conversation between her father and Galladon, but she’s pretty sure she can imagine it. Galladon probably said something like, “Don’t get too excited, Dad, but Brienne mentioned bringing a friend for Sevenmas.” Galladon has never been one for details, and her father absolutely hears whatever he likes best. The horror of Brienne’s mistake dawns on her the moment her father greets Jaime and her at the front door. He looks so, so pleased when he says, “I got your room all ready for both of you!”

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THE ARISTOCATS (1970)
dir. wolfgang reitherman
I think part of the reason why we feel so sad is that we're too far away from raw, numinous experiences. Like you know that post with a picture of the unpolluted night sky where people are reacting in terrified awe not realizing that's what the stars really look like?
I think it's like. You need vivid experiences that can't be easily repeated. You need elemental things. I don't mean this in a crunchy hippie just-try-yoga way I mean this in a way that's like...we're inside all the time and most things we experience are scheduled ahead of time. When there are sidewalks, we follow them, and there's always some boring place to go. You need things that no one has any control over and that no one can sell for money.
You need to be outside in a storm and see lightning strike very close to you. You need to meet a wild creature and have to stand very still and almost not even breathe and watch before it vanishes. You need to be alone somewhere very big. You need to go to a place because it looks interesting and be at the wrong place at the wrong time. You need to climb over a fence instead of going in by the gate. You need to hear the exploding sound of a huge flock of birds flying. You need to watch live theater performed by kids on a low budget. You need to be lost somewhere. You need to be barefoot somewhere. You need to sing with other people who are singing. You need to get soaking wet with all of your clothes on and come inside shivering.
You need to stand next to a very tall very old tree and feel small, you need to see a new born baby bird and feel very big. You need spend the night in a field or around a bonfire with friends in the middle of nowhere. Fall in a creek, take a random trail on the woods. Be young and dumb in nature, no matter how old you are.
I feel so insane about ai. I've had face-to-face conversations with people who use it for therapy, who use it to calculate the safety of pill interactions, who use it for all their emails and grant applications and legal documents and academic papers and finance sheets and for every single question they have about the world, and if you tell them about the ecological costs they just laugh and say "I guess I've used a lot of water." and I've been in multiple gatherings of 10+ people where I'm THE ONLY PERSON who doesn't use chatgpt. it's turning me into a ranting raving pariah, because how don't you people see??? why don't you understand??????? this bullshit didn't exist five years ago, you absolutely do not need it, and it is destroying everything
you picked me
Bwienne
Babygirl

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The greatest trick GRRM ever pulled was using a single act in the beginning of book one to convince the reader that Jaime Lannister, the biggest procrastinator this side of Rhaegar Targaryen, is impulsive.Â
Even defenestrating Bran isn’t truly impulsive. A quick decision, sure, but an impulsive act is one that is performed in a moment when it could’ve been delayed until further consideration could be given. So, a bad choice? Sure. But it isn’t like he could’ve put off killing the kid until later on.Â
Same with everything else he does. Going back for Brienne? A considered choice performed within the available time limit. Leaping into the bear pit? Same.Â
This is a man who spent fifteen years knowing Robert was abusive, yet did nothing to stop him. True, Cersei asked him not to…but wouldn’t an impulsive man have done it anyway? Sometime over those fifteen years? A man who even as a teenage boy waited well over a year, until the last second, to kill Aerys…and even changed clothes to do it. A man who waited until the last possible second to bust Tyrion out. A man who hangs around King’s Landing pretty much watching the Kettleblacks humping Cersei’s leg and does nothing. Who finally gets Lancel, the “other man,” alone, and instead of attacking him listens and counsels and tries to get him to eat something and encourages him to get out there and live his life.Â
Now Cersei? She is impulsive. Falyse and Mr Falyse, go kill Bronn for me. Oh no, Qyburn, here’s Falyse for your vivisection needs. Oh hey Qyburn send Falyse back I have use for her. This pattern - decisions made in the moment based upon whims that she forgets she even made at all and then when the whim turns out to have been a massive fuckup she covers up with even more impulsive bad moves - repeats for her. But Jaime is not this way. This is yet another of the million ways Jaime and Cersei - who are truly nothing alike - differ.Â
The only truly impulsive act I can remember seeing from Jaime Lannister? That one time he busted Red Ronnet Connington upside the head for trash talking Brienne. The Golden Bitchslap was performed without thought or planning and did not have to happen.
But other than that? Nah. This man is not impulsive. And to be fair, though he waits until the last second, unlike Rhaegar, he does know when the last second is.Â
"This is very significant to me...this time I didn't have to do that," says Gwendoline Christie on how different this emmy-nomination felt unlike the last one
"I feel a great confidence and gratitude to the production for putting me forward and having faith in me"
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Virginia Woolf, A Passionate Apprentice: The Early Journals, 1897-1909
Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

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Emily Bronte 's "Wuthering Heights" illustrated by Rovina Cai.
Pride and Prejudice S1.E2 | 1995 Adapted by Andrew Davies