big twitter meme, i'm dumb

	SIX PICS, SIX BLURBS GO

	>https://twitter.com/Barthurs_64/status/1246668192153509888?s=20

	“You attempt to seduce the handsome-sounding paladin, but as you take off her helmet, you realize that the boyish voice belongs to a woman! The incorruptible knight you were promised was a trick!”
	Much to the surprise of her Dragon Zombie and Anubis playmates, the Lamia swaps the mighty-looking knight figurine with a meek-looking, busty maiden.
	“How dastardly!”
	“These villagers will pay for their insolence!”
	The Lamia peers at them from behind her screen, “What are you planning to do?”
	The Dragon Zombie, always quick to form ideas, raises a finger. “I say we ransack the place, take all of the men for ourselves, and leave the women to fend for themselves.”
	“No no no,” The Anubis objects, “We're trying to stay Mirthful Sinister, remember? We should occupy the village center, and seduce every man in sight, until every hume in the vicinity monsterizes or incubizes.”
	“Sounds like that could take a while.”
	“To them, it'll be a war of attrition. To us, it is Friday.”
	The Lamia giggles nervously to herself, amused, and simultaneously terrified, of her friend's idea of fun.

	>https://twitter.com/Snistra1/status/1246669278499287041?s=20
	The Parasite Slime-infected nun admires herself in the mirror, her hands gliding over the smoothness of her new outfit.
	“Is that a cosplay?” Her husband asks from the other room.
	“Of course! From one of your games. I always wanted to try on a skin-tight suit.”
	“Is that so? I thought your habit was already pretty form-fitting.”
	“It is, but not like this. I mean, look, you can practically see my nipples. It's enticing, isn't it?”
	The maid walks in, carrying a tray of baked sweets and hot drinks. “You look slutty.”
	“Exactly! It's liberating, especially when you consider how easily you can tear open the fabric.”
	“Does everything have to be kinky with you?”
	“Don't act like such a prude while you're wearing that skimpy maid outfit I made for you. Or, is this just your way of expressing sexual frustration?”

	>https://twitter.com/genuinefrugert/status/1246670140994760705?s=20
	The radio crackles with static. “Do you think we're gonna make it back home?”
	“Of course we are. You're a grown-ass man. Have a goddamn spine.”
	“I know, but I can't help but wonder. Have you ever fought these things?”
	“No one has, at least not in America. But, it's a weapon that's too close to American soil for comfort, and we, being the loving nannies of our wonderful country, are going to bomb the ever-loving shit out of it.”
	Suddenly, a dark, green lump slams into the plane next to the pilot. The plane tumbles out of the sky like a crumpled tin can.
	“Shit! Plane down!”
	A volley of ballistic projectiles whiz past the flock of bombers soon after. The radio becomes a cacophony of harsh buzzing, rattling metal, expletives and gunfire.
	“We're under fire! We're under fire! Fan out!”
	“Climb, dammit, climb!”
	“I'm hit!”
	Another plane tumbles out of the sky, being hit by a massive ball of flame. Another plane's turret whips around and takes pot-shots at something behind it. The green lump crashes into the backside of the firing plane, dragging it down into the sea. For a moment, the pilot catches a glimpse of what was happening, but he could hardly understand how it could possibly be real.
	“Fuck! They hit my leg!”
	“Grin and bear it! We're almost at the target!”
	“Skipper, this is Warthog, my pilot has fallen unconscious! We're going down!”
	The sea was closing in, fast. Amidst the chaos, he too had been taken down, and was spinning nose-first toward the deep blue depths of the pacific. He closed his eyes, and awaited the inevitable.

	With a sharp gasp, the pilot wakes up in a crude hammock fashioned out of two palm trees tied together with a wool net. His chest aches, and his body tingles with sharp pricks.
	A young girl approaches him, handing out a drink inside of a coconut. She has curled, ram-like horns jutting out of her curly hair, and that same curly hair can be seen growing out of various parts of her body. She wasn't quite human, but had just enough womanly qualities to pass. “You're awfully sweaty this morning. Did you have another bad dream?”
	The pilot takes a sip from the coconut, the sharp sting of strong alcohol burning his throat. “Yeah.”
	“We managed to find another one of your friends. He washed up along with a Scylla who got stuck under his plane. Do you wanna talk to him?”
	“Sure, gimme a minute to get ready.”
	“Sure thing, hon. Your uniform is in the hut.”


	>https://twitter.com/F0RG0TTEN_S0U1/status/1246670959609876485?s=20
	A young dragon girl cautiously pushes open the door, her thick, scaly tail wrapped tensely around her legs, a midnight snack of bone-in ham in tow.
	“Mama? Papa?”
	A middle-aged man groggily groans as he sits up from his comfortable spot on a king-sized bed. He rubbed his face as he asked, “What's wrong, sweetie?”
	“I had a bad dream. I got lost in the grocery store, and I couldn't find you or Mama. Can I sleep with you and Mama tonight?”
	“Yeah, sure. Just make sure you eat that before you...” Her father dozed off back to sleep mid-sentence. Her mother, always a heavy sleeper, was still comfortably snoring with her husband tightly tucked away under her scaly arm. The young dragon girl crawled in between the two, made herself comfortable, and ate her midnight snack quietly.
	Unconsciously, the mother's clawed hand found its way to the top of her daughter's head, and softly patted it.
	“Thanks, Mama.” the daughter muttered, before tossing the bone of her ham aside, and snuggling up. “Good night.”

	>https://twitter.com/RataFag/status/1246673231093923840?s=20
	A man and a ratatoskr are having a private conversation in a cubicle within a news company's main office. The ratatoskr is awfully smug-in-the-face, never a good sign for whoever she's talking to.
	The ratatoskr crosses her legs, and takes a quick sip of extra-dark coffee. “So, you don't want any of this getting out to the public?”
	“Of course not.”
	“Especially this juicy bit right here?”
	The ratatoskr points to a photograph of the man prostrating before a demon, who seems very pleased by the display of submission.
	“Absolutely not that one.”
	“I dunno, you have a history of making a fool of yourself in front of women. Intentional or not, the people want to know the method to your madness. It's my job to uncover that.”
	“Right, and I already told you, it's all business. I have debts, they make offers, and I can't really say no, even if I want to.”
	“So... you don't want me to imply that you and this demon, who just so happens to be the third most powerful woman in the underground criminal network, are dating?”
	“Yes, because we aren't.”
	“What about casual sex?”
	“Not my thing?”
	“Come on, there's nothing wrong with being a little fire-and-forget. You're a man.”
	“Are you mocking me?”
	“Of course I am. What are you going to do about it?”
	The man grunts in frustration.
	“Now, if you'd like me to drop this scoop, we'll need to talk about what I would write about in its place.”
	“It doesn't matter. Just don't make it about me.”
	“Oh, but I have to. Everyone's asking about you. You're like a mini-celebrity right now.”
	“Alright, what do you want to know about me?”
	“Who do you like?”
	“What?”
	“Are there any girls in your sights?”
	“Not right now, no. I don't think I could burden someone with my debts.”
	“How honorable, but people aren't going to be interested if there's no girl involved.”
	“I already told you, I don't want anything to do with the women out here.”
	“What about me?”
	“What?”
	“Do you want to clear everything up? If so, you should just come out to the public about dating someone. Everyone will leave you alone right then and there. If you pair up with me, then I get exclusive info on how well you perform in bedroom scenarios.”
	“So you're asking me to do that with you.”
	“It's my fee, in exchange for tearing up all of the photos I have on you. Clearing up your name is free.”
	“In other words, you're blackmailing me?”
	“I prefer the phrase, 'securing a scoop'.”
	The man angrily scratches his head. “Fine. Whatever it takes.”
	“Oh, you're that desperate, huh? In that case...” The ratatoskr climbs atop her desk, and takes a seat. “Wanna do it here?”
	“Here? You're crazy. Someone could walk in.”
	“Wouldn't it be scandalous?”
	“You're out of your mind!”
	“And you're out of luck. I'm already riled up. Don't make me do anything irrational.”
	The man silently grits his teeth. The ratatoskr, knowing she has already won, lifts both of her furry legs up, proudly presenting her shapely hind quarters to the defeated-looking man. “Are you ready for your interview?”

	>https://twitter.com/losenis/status/1246676173129728001?s=20
	Every day, every single fucking day, this little shit comes up to me, and asks me to pick her up so she can sit at her desk. Why is she so tiny? Why can't she climb up into her own office chair? Why did she order a five-foot-tall desk that she has to stand up on top her office chair to use? It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense. Why am I here? Why do I work for her? I'm tired of this. I'm going to run. I'm going to get as far away as fucking possible from this fucking madhouse. No more.
	She raises her arms up, and grasps at the air, a signal that she's growing impatient. No. Fuck you. Go find someone else to do it. I'll be gone in an instant. Just watch me.
	Ffffffuck.
	“Thankies, underling. You may return to your post!”
	Fuck that stupid fucking childlike voice, too. You're going to get it someday. Everyone here is. And when I'm gone, you'll all come crawling back. You, and your stupid army of bean-sized hooligans.