Some of Twitter are filled with grim determination.
Stevie Van Zandt, for instance, sees former humans any time he sees a red hat, and cocks his single-barrel shotgun.
Brenda Siegel knows a valuable protip: To defeat the cyberdemon, tweet at it until it dies.
Sabrina Kayes is only one poorly-aimed fireball away from a spectacular close-quarters infight.
gay_seniors, on the other hand, is only one thrown lemon away from a spectacular geriatric orgy.
Mary Raynes revs her chainsaw and gets ready. Rip, RBG. Rip and tear.
The suicide hotline in the United States is 1-800-273-8255, Doc Rocket.
Molly Templeton backs into the corner of her apartment, toward the open window, as she imagines a swarm of spiders clad in tiny MAGA hats approaching, blanketing the floor.
Nor are there enough dancing crabs to reflect the mirth, Angela Garinger.
While Molly Knight reflects on what the October Surprise may bring, joanne schlesinger starts mechanically loading her flintlock pistol like that one dude in that one scene in Attack on Titan.
The Pit of Despair experiment was most horrifying for what the despair-ridden monkeys would do to their own offspring. I hope epiphanyinbmore doesn't have any.
jessaflecht felt a great disturbance in the Force, as though millions of voices suddenly tweeted out in terror, and were suddenly triggered.