finding out picasso died in 1973 feels like the fakest thing ive ever heard. everyone talks about him like he lived in a cave with nothing but a torch and paint he made from berries or bear shit or somethin but nah this dude probably sat down watchin looney tunes thinkin “damn i should draw some dude with a nose on his forehead thatd be dope” i feel so lied to
me, an aged monarch lounging on my fur-strewn throne, gesturing for my servant to bring me my monacle: Bring them here! Bring them here, I say. Let me look at them.
guards: *drag the unwitting blog before me*
me, peering intently at the new blog and poking them with my scepter: Is this a real person? Hmm? What have you to say for yourself? What are your fandoms? Your interests? Speak up, these old ears aren’t what they used to be.
guards, tentatively: they do seem to be a real person, sire. We found them in possession of several memes and a fandom rant.
me, subsiding back into my sumptuous furs and waving them away: most extraordinary. It has been an age since there was a real person, but just as well, the dungeons have been overflowing with those tacky pornbots. This newcomer may remain in my domain. Make them welcome. And fetch me a quill! I feel a ficlet coming on…
on a scale of luke skywalker to jaime lannister how well would you deal with losing your right hand
or, on a scale of luke skywalker to jaime lannister how well do you deal with latent sexual feelings for your sister
or, on a scale of luke skywalker to jamie lannister how well would you deal with your dad being an utter bastard with unresolved issues about the death of his wife
or, on a scale of luke skywalker to jaime lannister how well would you deal with the fact that your nephew is a complete and total douche