They are the League of Extraordinary Shitposters
There's something about them, but you can't quite grasp what. Is it the smell, that pleasant but menacing scent reminiscent of scrib jelly mixed with the musk of a guar? Perhaps it's that air of defiant godhood; you can feel just through their presence that they are the masters of their own realities. Whatever it is, you've come to realize what they truly are, or maybe just the beginning of what they are. You can read their stares, and you know that they can and won't tear you apart. That they are above you, and below you, and beside and inside you. In this moment you take the next step, you become they, they become you. Conqueror and alterer. You've come to the end and found the holy syllable. Royalty.
I ARE ALL WE
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