#we stan one (1) romantic doofus

[sapphiresandsunlight]

Jaime is Big Sad about not being married to Brienne and it hurts my heart. How many times are his fantasies obliquely mentioned?

*Unbidden, his thoughts went to Brienne of Tarth. [...] Other men might be fathers, sons, husbands, but never Jaime Lannister, whose sword was as golden as his hair. He was a warrior, and that was all he would ever be.

*That took him by surprise. Brienne had never mentioned a betrothal. "Her father made a match for her . . ." [...] For any such, the Maid of Tarth would have been a sweet plum indeed. "How is it that you did not wed?" Jaime asked him.

*“[Y]ou are a lion of the Rock, a lord. You have a wife, a castle, lands to defend, people to protect. If the gods are good, you will have sons of your blood to follow you. Why would you throw all that away for . . . for some vow?"

*"Do you have a little wife, ser?" No, I have a sister. [...]

“And what is it you like in a woman, m'lord?"

"Innocence."

Not to mention his very firm opinions on how to treat a bride on her wedding night, which of course is what would be expected given his position as... [checks notes] the official leader of a celibate order of knights.

*His cousin squirmed uncomfortably in the saddle. "I know enough to do my duty as a husband, ser."

"That's just the thing a bride wants on her wedding night," said Jaime. "A husband who knows how to do his duty."

*“If you bed her, though, be kind to her."

"Kind, my lord? How . . . how would I . . . ?"

"Sweet words. Gentle touches. You don't want to wed her, but so long as you're abed treat her as you would your bride."

This is not meant in any way to contradict the fact that Jaime is a horny monster dying for some strange, btw, just to remark upon the fact that he also has a boner in his heart.

how much does Jaime need to get laid in affc?

Sleeping with the Mother and the Maiden, when he has a warm wife just through that door? Jaime did not know whether to laugh or weep.

[yourheartistrue]

Stay Golden, Part 1

It was a balmy October afternoon in Miami, and roommates Blanche, Dorothy, Rose, and Sophia decided to spend an hour or two at the local ceramics-painting joint, Glazed Expressions.  They enjoyed the freedom to each choose their own item to paint, then have it fired in the kiln to become a shiny piece of art.  Rose chose a gnome figurine, nine inches tall, with a pointed hat, big boots, very big belt buckle, and very very big beard.

 “It reminds me of the Hagenisse in our garden in St. Olaf”, she said.  “The Hagenisse looked innocent enough in daylight, but sure enough if there the tomte would cause all sorts of mischief at night.  Why, after our parents would put my sisters and brothers to bed, we would hear all kinds of moaning and screaming.  Dad said the Hagenisse would go to the barn and bite our cow Bertha’s ear and nip at the bunnies’ tails!”

“Yeah right,” said Sophia.  “The moaning and screaming was the cow and the rabbits like the ladies in windows at the Red Light District in Amsterdam are setting up department store Christmas decorations.”  Sophia was painting a sizable ceramic candlestick.  She dipped her brush into the silvertone paint and globbed it onto the stick.

“Oh, Sophia,” scolded Blanche, “Christmas happens all over the world.  Even in Amsterdam.”

“You would know!”

Blanche continued to paint her ceramic bowl a creamy peach.  She glanced over to a surly Dorothy.  “What is that, Dorothy?  A toad?”

Dorothy raised a single eyebrow and replied, “It’s a frog”

“Reminds me of Stan!” interjected Sophia.  “Why, with what he’s been up to, I oughtta whack him over the head with this candlestick!”

“Shady Pines, Ma!!!” warned Dorothy.

“I mean it,” replied Sophia.  “What that doofus has been doing is downright stupid.  Getting engaged to that floozy.”

“I didn’t know you were seeing Stan!” Rose whispered to Blanche.

“I’m not seeing Stan, Rose.  Stan is marrying that beauty queen from Des Moines.  ‘the Pork Princess’”

“Bacon Queen,” corrected Dorothy.  She’s a fine young lady, I’m sure.  It’s none of my business, and I wish them the best.”

“Why, that’s awfully big of you,” praised Rose.  “In St. Olaf, when my high school sweetheart Hans married the Lutefisk Princess--I hate to admit this--I stooped pretty low.  The night before the big Lutefisk parade, I let all the stray cats out of the animal shelter into the lutefisk barrel warehouse.  There was no lutefisk left in the morning and the parade was ruined!”

“That doesn’t sound like you, Rose!” Blanche was shocked.  You must have really took a shine to Hans.”

“Oh well, Hans had the most beautiful yodel.  I can remember milking Bertha one afternoon, and all of a sudden, at the barn window, there was Hans, serenading me.  ‘Ricola!!!!!’ he sang.  The most romantic gesture, I really was beside myself.”

“Good grief!” snapped Sophia.  “A kraut twink sings about cough drops and you are ready to drop your panties.”

“Shady Pines, Ma,”  snapped Dorothy.

“What?” squawked Sophia.

“Think that’s romantic,”  mused Blanche.  Once, a young man climbed the magnolia tree outside my bedroom window and sang, ‘My Darling, Clementine’  I let him in and we had the most entertaining evening.”

“I bet.” Sophia snorted. “What are you painting, anyway,” she asked Blanche. Blanche had painted a second peach bowl, both bowls had a one-inch mauve perfect circle in the center of the bowl.  

“It’s a breast, if you must know,” replied Blanche.  It is in support of that poor Susan, two doors down from us.  So sad, you know she’s having a mastectomy on Monday.”

“I didn’t know that, I’m sorry,” said Sophia.  “So you are giving her boobie bowls.”

“I like that!  Boobie bowl!”  Blanche exclaimed.  I’ll have to use that.  

A chime dinged as the door swung open, and there at the door was none other than the Bacon Queen, and Dorothy’s ex-husband Stan!

...to be continued...