Mens Tits. You Agree. Reblog.

Wayne’s World

in theaters 14.02.1992

1979 Hair posters, art by Bob Peak

i fucking love fanfiction cuz ppl’ll be like “he would not fucking say that” and others’ll be like “okay but he would fucking say that” and i’m sitting here from a throne of half truths and half lies and all manic glee like “oh but he needs to fucking say that cuz how else will i traumatize this babygirl?”

Joseph Quinn and a guitar. That's it.

Lol I'm posting the first few paragraphs of the HOTD fic I'm writing so I feel compelled to continue

Resentment burned like an inferno in the Aegon's chest. It was a feeling the youth had never seemed to grow used to, and one he knew no other means of quenching other than with goblet upon goblet of Arbor Gold, Dornish Strongwine, hells, even piss-weak spice mulled hippocras from the Reach. It mattered little the varietal, so long as it eased the resentful fire in his gut and dulled the echo of his mother's voice, which had long since burrowed deep into his psyche.

"Disgrace."

"Drunk."

"Lout. Lech. Rake."

Those were the easiest to drink and fuck away. There was always a waiting bottle to uncork, a wet hole to claim. By right he ought to be free to explore the life of a libertine. His lot was to enjoy everything a prince's station had to offer without the obligations that would be his sister's, the princess's royal. As his rotting father refused to let anyone forget, she was rightful heir to the iron throne. She would be Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

Alas, his mother and scheming grandsire would allow him no peace. Even in solitude they remained with him, words repeating. And so he drank, and fucked, and ate, and did precisely as he pleased. Perhaps he thought to spite their machinations. Certainly he acted as he desired to.

It was not long before his inner tormentors expanded their vocabulary.

"Smell-Feast. Hogling. Glutton."

"Fat."

It's not much but it's honest work