/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
