/lit/ writes Winds of Winter for George. One paragraph at a time, I’ll start!>In a crypt buried under the snow, there lay a Jon R’lhorr Targaryen. He was once first of his name. But now he would also be the last. The Last Hero, you might say. He got up from his coffin and stretched his legs
>And before he could muster a word, he ran to the bushes and begun to shit. But the more he shit, the more it came out. Late into the night, he had shat all his shit, and so followed his inner organs. By dusk, the grass beneath him was brown of shit and red of his organs. Jon lay dead once more.
>>25249789>R’lhorr
>Jon’s spirit screamed as he traveled at a speed unimaginable, looking for a suitable host to warg into. It wasn't long before he found himself in the body of a young white haired maiden, with a perky ass that was perched upon a great dragon of terrible size and scale.
>>25249789>jenna lannister had just successfully conducted a siege of horn hill, the tarly’s had surrendered without a fight
>>25249976>Perky it was, but perkier was the flow of excrement streaming out of her buttocks. A fierce rain of brown colored the snowy roofs of Winterfell. Such a mix of brown and white nobody had seen since the Stark's trip to the Summer Isles.
>>25249789>nigger
>Jon began to walk into the stark clearing.>Though the sun was obscured by clouds forever in torment by the breath of the gods, the land was quiet; yet screaming in brilliant reflected light as if to mirror the heavens above.>Dazed by the chilling purity of his surroundings, a whisper of cold wind swept along the ground and spoke to Jon.>"Turn back.", it whispered quietly.>Jon proceeded into the ivory landscape, ignoring the little voice.>The zephyr became a gust with teeth and spoke fiercely, "Leave this pure land!">Furrowing his darkened brows, Jon clapped his hands to each ear. The light and the cold had been harsh, but tolerable. The noise and the facts it presented however, pained Jon more than any cucking by BDD (Big Dragon Dick).>"56% are not welcome here!", shrieked the windy voice, rising to a gale force.
>>25249789Kek, that pic
>>25249789>Hey, this is George RR Martin, writer of A Song of Ice and Fire. I wanted to stop the narrative for a second to let you know I'm planning to find you and lick you. I'm going to give you a big wet lick on your face sometime between now and when I die. I'll decide when I come lick you. I might lick you when you're on the toilet, when you're in line at the bank, when you're waiting for the bus, when you're at a funeral, when you're at work. Whenever I get around to it, really. But I'm going to find you and lick you. Just wanted to let you know so you can prepare.
