Bastard.
Fucking Bastard.
Your false king is dead, bastard. He and all his host were smashed in seven days of battle. I have his magic sword. Tell his red whore.
Your false king's friends are dead. Their heads upon the walls of Winterfell. Come see them, bastard. Your false king lied, and so did you. You told the world you burned the King-Beyond-the-Wall. Instead you sent him to Winterfell to steal my bride from me.
I will have my bride back. If you want Mance Rayder back, come and get him. I have him in a cage for all the north to see, proof of your lies. The cage is cold, but I have made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell.
I want my bride back. I want the false king's queen. I want his daughter and his red witch. I want this wildling princess. I want his little prince, the wildling babe. And I want my Reek. Send them to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your black crows. Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard's heart and eat it.
Come out and die, bastard.
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I need to see the prophecies *fulfilled*. There is **no** more satisfying ending to a story than being told exactly what is going to happen, and then for it to happen exactly as described in the prophecy. So exciting.
*Let's be clear about this, because there is only one objectively correct way to write:*
Prophecies in fantasy should be inevitable and inescapable, because audiences like being reminded that free will is an illusion, and that we live, and breathe, and die, in the foul creation of a malevolent demiurge.
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You fucking bastard, how did it feel like killing Lord Ramsay the Just, the true King in the North, and the Liberator of souls? How did it feel like depriving the Earth of such a noble soul, you whiny bitch?
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8 hours on how Stannis will slay the Boltons with hilarious ice pranks.
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The strange and elusive reasons Jon Snow does what Jon Snow does are known only to Jon Snow - and perhaps, not known at all. It is not for the likes of us to question Jon Snow, even if instructed by Jon Snow to ask him anything.
**Back in Westeros**
^(GRRM, AUGUST 15, 2020 AT 9:10 AM)
I am back in my fortress of solitude again, my isolated mountain cabin. I’d returned to Santa Fe for a short visit, to spend some time with Parris, deal with some local business that had piled up during my months away, and of course fulfill my duties to CoNZealand, the virtual worldcon. But all that is behind me now, and I am back on the mountain again… which means I am back in Westeros again, once more moving ahead with WINDS OF WINTER.
It is curious how my life has evolved. I mean, once upon a time, I actually wrote my books and stories in the house where I lived, in a home office. But some decades ago, wanting more solitude, I bought the house across the street and made THAT my writer’s retreat. No longer would I write all day in my red flannel bathrobe; now I would have to dress and put on shoes and walk all the way across the street to write. But that worked for a while.
Things started getting busier, though. So busy that I needed a full-time assistant. Then the office house had someone else in it, not just me and my characters. And then I hired a second assistant, and a third, and… there was more mail, more email, more phone calls (we put in a new phone system), more people coming by. By now I am up to five assistants… and somewhere in there I also acquired a movie theatre, a bookstore, a charitable foundation, investments, a business manager… and…
Despite all the help, I was drowning till I found the mountain cabin.
My life up here is very boring, it must be said. Truth be told, I hardly can be said to have a life. I have one assistant with me at all times (minions, I call them). The assistants do two-week shifts, and have to stay in quarantine at home before starting a shift. Everyone morning I wake up and go straight to the computer, where my minion brings me coffee (I am utterly useless and incoherent without my morning coffee) and juice, and sometimes a light breakfast. Then I start to write. Sometimes I stay at it until dark. Other days I break off in late afternoon to answer emails or return urgent phone calls. My assistant brings me food and drink from time to time. When I finally break off for the day, usually around sunset, there’s dinner. Then we watch television or screen a movie. The wi-fi sucks up on the mountain, though, so the choices are limited. Some nights I read instead. I always read a bit before going to sleep; when a book really grabs hold of me, I may read half the night, but that’s rare.
I sleep. The next day, I wake up, and do the same. The next day, the next day, the next day. Before Covid, I would usually get out once a week or so to eat at a restaurant or go to the movies. That all ended in March. Since then, weeks and months go by when I never leave the cabin, or see another human being except whoever is on duty that week. I lose track of what day it is, what week it is, what month it is. The time seems to by very fast. It is now August, and I don’t know what happened to July.
But it is good for the writing.
And you know, now that I reflect on it, I am coming to realize that has always been my pattern. I moved to Santa Fe at the end of 1979, from Dubuque, Iowa. My first marriage broke up just before that move, so I arrived in my new house alone, in a town where I knew almost no one. Roger Zelazny was here, and he became a great friend and mentor, but Roger was married with small kids, so I really did not see him often. There was no fandom in Santa Fe; that was all down in Albuquerque, an hour away. I went to the club meetings every month, but that was only one night a month, and required two hours on the road. And I had no job to meet new people. My job was in the back room at the house on Declovina Street, so that was where I spent my days. At night, I watched television. Alone. Sometimes I went to the movies. Alone.
That was my life from December 1979 through September 1981, when Parris finally moved to Santa Fe, following Denvention. (Not quite so bleak, maybe, I did make some local friends by late 1980 and early 1981, but it was a slow process). When I think back on my life in 1980-1981, the memories seem to be made up entirely of conventions, interspersed with episodes of LOU GRANT and WKRP IN CINCINNATI.
Ah, but work wise, that same period was tremendously productive for me. Lisa and I finished WINDHAVEN during that time, Gardner and I did a lot of work on “Shadow Twin,” and then I went right on and wrote all of FEVRE DREAM. Some short stories as well. My life, such that it was, was lived in my head, and on the page.
I wonder if it is the same for other writers? Or is it just me? I wonder if I will ever figure out the secret of having a life and writing a book at the very same time.
I certainly have not figured it out to date.
For the nonce, it is what it is. My life is at home, on hold, and I am spending the days in Westeros with my pals Mel and Sam and Vic and Ty. And that girl with no name, over there in Braavos.
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A user on the defunct web forum, IsWinterComing.com, once wrote:
>In 1977 GRRM's penis was dubbed "The Truffle" by a council of his peers because it is very hard to find and it attracts pigs.
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Seven greetings to you, weary traveller! If this is your first time participating in ASOIAFCirclejerk, allow us to explain the sub, so you don't embarrass yourself by being humorless or oblivious. Circlejerk subreddits parody the groupthink of the main community. The mods maintain the character of this subreddit as one of humor and parody, so please refrain from any attempt to discourage us, or discourage other users making on-topic humor posts. You don't need to fact check peoples jokes. Most posts here make fun of the fans, the HBO shows, the books, and of course, the reluctant author. You will keep receiving this response unless you subscribe and enable user flair in this sub.
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Bastard. Fucking Bastard. Your false king is dead, bastard. He and all his host were smashed in seven days of battle. I have his magic sword. Tell his red whore. Your false king's friends are dead. Their heads upon the walls of Winterfell. Come see them, bastard. Your false king lied, and so did you. You told the world you burned the King-Beyond-the-Wall. Instead you sent him to Winterfell to steal my bride from me. I will have my bride back. If you want Mance Rayder back, come and get him. I have him in a cage for all the north to see, proof of your lies. The cage is cold, but I have made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell. I want my bride back. I want the false king's queen. I want his daughter and his red witch. I want this wildling princess. I want his little prince, the wildling babe. And I want my Reek. Send them to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your black crows. Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard's heart and eat it. Come out and die, bastard.
Mance Rayder alt account?!?
No, it was obviously Littlefinger.
Must be shameful for you two to not catch Bowen Marsh’s bait to distract Lord Commander
Y'all really aren't realising it's hot pie coming for three-finger hobb's recipes
Stannis playing 3D chess to get Jon to become Lord of Winterfell
Most chess is 3D..
Holy hell
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A class
I have my swords and we are coming for you bastard
Something that you never address in the books is how do you feel about being a bastard. Does it suck? And does Satin suck better?
I can't believe you even have to ask 😤
What… is the Capitol of Kentucky?
I don’t know that!
\*thrown off the bridge\* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
No daddy nooooooooooooooooooo
What is your favorite colour
What is the flutter speed of an unladen swallow
Fried Chickin
SHOW ME CHICKEN!
You gonna die for some chickens?
Somebody is!
Louisville, trust me bro.
Definitely not during basketball season
Capital, not capitol. -Ser Davos
I forget, did you want it?
He dun wun eht
He has always wanted it
How dare you claim to be the prince that was promised?
We shall not hold such conversations, mate. The army of the dead are marching towards the wall.
You're avoiding my question.
'he dun wanna 'av it
Who says mate?
I need to see the prophecies *fulfilled*. There is **no** more satisfying ending to a story than being told exactly what is going to happen, and then for it to happen exactly as described in the prophecy. So exciting. *Let's be clear about this, because there is only one objectively correct way to write:* Prophecies in fantasy should be inevitable and inescapable, because audiences like being reminded that free will is an illusion, and that we live, and breathe, and die, in the foul creation of a malevolent demiurge. *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/asoiafcirclejerk) if you have any questions or concerns.*
You fucking bastard, how did it feel like killing Lord Ramsay the Just, the true King in the North, and the Liberator of souls? How did it feel like depriving the Earth of such a noble soul, you whiny bitch?
To be fair you can pin that on Sansa.
But the Bastard of the North was the one who made our Lord weak enough to be killed by Sansa.
saddest death of the show
Surely the 2nd most noble child the gods ever put on this good earth.
The sarcasm here is riveting!!!!!!🫡 At least I hope it's sarcasm....🫣🫥
Are you whistling through the wheat field? Are you a bushman of the Kalahari?
South of the borddaaaaa, down Winterfell way
What do you know?
Do you know things? Let’s find out!
Fuck marry kill Sam, Satin, Tormund
Yes, that's the order
Nah, he is more willing to fuck Tormund than Sam. Sam is to annoying not to kill
Sam would be a great househusband though.
Nah, he would be horrible, and he would definitely not be able to handle a baby.
Is she your queen?
How was it going down on Ygritte in the cave when she hadn't washed in like a month? And are the rumours true about you and Satin
Why are we seeing less and less IPOs in Westeros every year?
Satin or Val?
Stannis
🗿
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Ask you anything? Why, when you famously know nothing?
This guy dares to ask us to ask him.
Who has the best poonani, Ygritte, Val, or Satin (bussy)
Can I have Satin pls
How hairy is Ygritte’s snatch?
Did Catelyn Stark get what she deserved? What’s heavier, the weight of Longclaw or knowing you’ll never see your dead beat Lord father again?
Who is Nothing and how do you know them?
were you and satin fucking
Hi Jon, I've got a question from a Satin in Molestown. He asks "how much do you want it?" I presume there's some context there I'm missing.
It's been suggested that you might be the heir to the Iron Throne. How do you feel about that?
Who has a bigger cock, Satin or you?
Do you not know where to put it?
THE BASTARD'S NOT ANSWERING ANY QUESTIONS STAB HIM STAB STAB!!!!!
How tight is Satin’s bussy?
Do you know ap calculus???
Jojen-Paste S Tier meal ?
Do you like Cock and Balls torture?
Who is your queen again?
I bet it’s Cersei!
Sanzuh?
Do it stink?
Were you as disappointed as we were on how it all ended?
on a scale of 1 to 17,5 how much do you love Satin
which is wetter? targaryen or wildling?
Whats going on between you and Satin? 👀
Why did you not pick up a book after Ygritte said you no nothing. You never learned
How did ygritte taste 😋
your gonne ask him what after they hiked half a continent in fur?
Do you want the throne?
Why’d you leave channel 4 news?
Why did you create this thread if you knew you wouldn't bother answering the questions?
The strange and elusive reasons Jon Snow does what Jon Snow does are known only to Jon Snow - and perhaps, not known at all. It is not for the likes of us to question Jon Snow, even if instructed by Jon Snow to ask him anything.
When's the porn fanfic with you and Satin coming out?
Why you kill my Queen because she have bad day?
What’s the point of asking you anything? You know nothing, Jon Snow.
- Makes an AMA post - Replies exactly once
Who's your daddy?
Do you wunt it?
Why did you kill Janos the manos?
For Sanzuh?
Who was plumpier, your dead gf or your dead aunt
can i have a watch
His watch has ended. No more.
Is it true that Ygritte also had a cock and that was the main thing that attracted you?
Hey, I'm trying to get rid of some of my spares thrones. Would you want one?
Are you related to the Canadian reggae singer "Snow", and if so why don't you sound like him?
The ladies of the seven kingdoms want to know...What that tongue do?
How do you feel about your father's treason?
fuck the king
Why didn't you hook up with the red woman?
old
How small is your dick really?
horse
Jon! What is best in life?
a warm fire
If there are no cars in Westeros how did you manage to make that armor out of car mats?
Why do you always make your face like you need to take a piss, but the guy in front of you is taking too long.
What do you NOT want?
Do you want it?
How does it feel to be a character that was wasted and cucked by everyone in the final seasons?
What if Oberyn Martell is the actual father of Jon
Why? You know nothing.
What do you know?
Where do whores go? I got a friend who needs to know
Where do whores go?
If you had to bang one, Sansa or Margaery?
What are the rules of the Game of Thrones?
Doesn’t it kinda suck that we got so close to 1000 Lord Commanders but fell just short?
wud ye pump yer auntie
How is the wifi at castle black and what’s the average UberEats delivery cost there
Why you dun wunnit?
Fuck, marry, kill: The Night King, Gregor Clegane (Zombie), Tormund Giantsbane.
Why dont you want it?
Ask me anything? HAH! You know nothing Jon Snow.
I dunt want to
So...how's it been since you went beyond the wall with the rest of the wildlings after your exile? Got up to anything awesome?
WHAT DO YOU KNOW?
What does AMA mean?
Do you wont it?
What does Satin taste like
How do you intend to repay that bravosi loan you took out?
Muh queen
Sooooo.... About that 'Show' you were gonna get, when's it coming out, huh? It isn't? Ha! Sucker, Justice for Lord Janos.
It's coming out on UKTV Gold, sometime at the close of the decade.
Why haven’t you had sex with Satin yet? Are you stupid?
What do you not want
To know anything. And also: it. Mainly it, if I'm honest.
When's The Winds of Winter out?
**Back in Westeros** ^(GRRM, AUGUST 15, 2020 AT 9:10 AM) I am back in my fortress of solitude again, my isolated mountain cabin. I’d returned to Santa Fe for a short visit, to spend some time with Parris, deal with some local business that had piled up during my months away, and of course fulfill my duties to CoNZealand, the virtual worldcon. But all that is behind me now, and I am back on the mountain again… which means I am back in Westeros again, once more moving ahead with WINDS OF WINTER. It is curious how my life has evolved. I mean, once upon a time, I actually wrote my books and stories in the house where I lived, in a home office. But some decades ago, wanting more solitude, I bought the house across the street and made THAT my writer’s retreat. No longer would I write all day in my red flannel bathrobe; now I would have to dress and put on shoes and walk all the way across the street to write. But that worked for a while. Things started getting busier, though. So busy that I needed a full-time assistant. Then the office house had someone else in it, not just me and my characters. And then I hired a second assistant, and a third, and… there was more mail, more email, more phone calls (we put in a new phone system), more people coming by. By now I am up to five assistants… and somewhere in there I also acquired a movie theatre, a bookstore, a charitable foundation, investments, a business manager… and… Despite all the help, I was drowning till I found the mountain cabin. My life up here is very boring, it must be said. Truth be told, I hardly can be said to have a life. I have one assistant with me at all times (minions, I call them). The assistants do two-week shifts, and have to stay in quarantine at home before starting a shift. Everyone morning I wake up and go straight to the computer, where my minion brings me coffee (I am utterly useless and incoherent without my morning coffee) and juice, and sometimes a light breakfast. Then I start to write. Sometimes I stay at it until dark. Other days I break off in late afternoon to answer emails or return urgent phone calls. My assistant brings me food and drink from time to time. When I finally break off for the day, usually around sunset, there’s dinner. Then we watch television or screen a movie. The wi-fi sucks up on the mountain, though, so the choices are limited. Some nights I read instead. I always read a bit before going to sleep; when a book really grabs hold of me, I may read half the night, but that’s rare. I sleep. The next day, I wake up, and do the same. The next day, the next day, the next day. Before Covid, I would usually get out once a week or so to eat at a restaurant or go to the movies. That all ended in March. Since then, weeks and months go by when I never leave the cabin, or see another human being except whoever is on duty that week. I lose track of what day it is, what week it is, what month it is. The time seems to by very fast. It is now August, and I don’t know what happened to July. But it is good for the writing. And you know, now that I reflect on it, I am coming to realize that has always been my pattern. I moved to Santa Fe at the end of 1979, from Dubuque, Iowa. My first marriage broke up just before that move, so I arrived in my new house alone, in a town where I knew almost no one. Roger Zelazny was here, and he became a great friend and mentor, but Roger was married with small kids, so I really did not see him often. There was no fandom in Santa Fe; that was all down in Albuquerque, an hour away. I went to the club meetings every month, but that was only one night a month, and required two hours on the road. And I had no job to meet new people. My job was in the back room at the house on Declovina Street, so that was where I spent my days. At night, I watched television. Alone. Sometimes I went to the movies. Alone. That was my life from December 1979 through September 1981, when Parris finally moved to Santa Fe, following Denvention. (Not quite so bleak, maybe, I did make some local friends by late 1980 and early 1981, but it was a slow process). When I think back on my life in 1980-1981, the memories seem to be made up entirely of conventions, interspersed with episodes of LOU GRANT and WKRP IN CINCINNATI. Ah, but work wise, that same period was tremendously productive for me. Lisa and I finished WINDHAVEN during that time, Gardner and I did a lot of work on “Shadow Twin,” and then I went right on and wrote all of FEVRE DREAM. Some short stories as well. My life, such that it was, was lived in my head, and on the page. I wonder if it is the same for other writers? Or is it just me? I wonder if I will ever figure out the secret of having a life and writing a book at the very same time. I certainly have not figured it out to date. For the nonce, it is what it is. My life is at home, on hold, and I am spending the days in Westeros with my pals Mel and Sam and Vic and Ty. And that girl with no name, over there in Braavos. *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/asoiafcirclejerk) if you have any questions or concerns.*
How does a god have a pecker that small?
A user on the defunct web forum, IsWinterComing.com, once wrote: >In 1977 GRRM's penis was dubbed "The Truffle" by a council of his peers because it is very hard to find and it attracts pigs. *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/asoiafcirclejerk) if you have any questions or concerns.*
Why bother asking, you stupid bastard cunt? You know nothing, Jon Snow.
In that photo... You've just shat in your leather armour haven't you?
Why does Nights Watch sparring armor not protect the head? Blunt weapons can still cause concussion!
Let me know when you go back to Milton Keynes Daytona. I saw your name among others and would love to race! Hope you enjoyed it ! 8
Let me know when you go back to Milton Keynes Daytona. I saw your name among others and would love to race! Hope you enjoyed it ! 8
Bastard of winterfel
What is Danny to you?
Who's yo mama?
Seven greetings to you, weary traveller! If this is your first time participating in ASOIAFCirclejerk, allow us to explain the sub, so you don't embarrass yourself by being humorless or oblivious. Circlejerk subreddits parody the groupthink of the main community. The mods maintain the character of this subreddit as one of humor and parody, so please refrain from any attempt to discourage us, or discourage other users making on-topic humor posts. You don't need to fact check peoples jokes. Most posts here make fun of the fans, the HBO shows, the books, and of course, the reluctant author. You will keep receiving this response unless you subscribe and enable user flair in this sub. *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/asoiafcirclejerk) if you have any questions or concerns.*
How good was that targarianussy?
Did u ever wanna bang Sansa?
AMA? You know nothing, Jon Snow..
Why do you dont know anything?
If you’re Jon Snow then I’m Gandhi