Snakes Reads A Terrible Book: Manhunt, by Gretchen Felker-Martin - An utter waste of everyone’s time inspired by the Tranny Sideshows thread and its new favorite author

[Accept Only Substitutes]

That's not controversy. That's propaganda.

 

[umami's milk]

It's only an hour old, but
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Spoiler: on Julie Bindel's tweet

Mostly people who either are "TERFs" or are reasonable human beings capable of understanding why this is a problem. Just some of the supportive ones, not much funny here. Will look at Retchen's tweets and replies more later, feel free to snipe me if any of you like.
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It's some fuel for those of you dipping into despair that not all of humanity is Retchen and pals.

maybe if wretched fucker wrote "i've always wanted to ratio julie bindel" he would've got more engagement

edit:

Are the Barnes & Noble ratings not showing up on Google? I swore they were up there. Is it just me?

 

[Sourceress]

It's a funny bit of obvious hypocrisy the way Micah hides behind being a horror writer as an excuse for why none of his work can be criticized and he can't be held accountable for the things that he writes even when they're about real living people, but he also believes "TERF" writers should be silenced and no one should ever listen to them, read what they write, or speak to them, to the point that he refuses to talk to any media outlet that also speaks to a wrongthinking woman.

I wonder what his thoughts are on the trans activist "critiques" of Harry Potter that assign every possible bigotry to the work and through the work to the author even if they don't make logical sense (ie "HP is anti-Semitic because obviously any nonhuman creature working with money is supposed to be a Jew!" and that load of shit that says more about the person complaining than it ever has JKR or her books). She's a fantasy writer, so does that mean her work should be free from criticism? After all, it's all just fantasy. Something tells me Micah would have a problem with that assertion.

I do love that women are speaking out about this bullshit, and especially about the obvious and horrendous double standards being used by publishers right now who have no problem publishing shit like this woman-hating, rape-filled screed that literally encourages (sexualized) violence against real, living women but refuse to publish books by women who believe in science and fact. Someday, they'll have to answer for this shit, hopefully.

ETA: I also find it super rich whenever trans-identified men accuse "TERFs" of working with the right-wing or secretly being eeevil right-wingers, as if there aren't scores upon scores of trans-identified men who openly admit to being racist neo-Nazi incels "before they transitioned" who are constantly saying misogynistic, racist shit that even most right-wingers wouldn't say.

 

[luigismanslave]

It's only an hour old, but
View attachment 3210469

Spoiler: on Julie Bindel's tweet

Mostly people who either are "TERFs" or are reasonable human beings capable of understanding why this is a problem. Just some of the supportive ones, not much funny here. Will look at Retchen's tweets and replies more later, feel free to snipe me if any of you like.
View attachment 3210491View attachment 3210493View attachment 3210494View attachment 3210495View attachment 3210496
It's some fuel for those of you dipping into despair that not all of humanity is Retchen and pals.

I like that it's doing all this peaking and generating outrage based on the one JK Rowling paragraph. Imagine if they saw all the rape, woman murder, sexual assault, creepy thoughts, euphoria boners, womb theft lmao.

 

[Hongourable Madisha]

I want fanart of teach and the Chrome Chromosomers.

Also the author is fat and nobody will sex him.

I gave it a go. The scene where they find our boy's bike.

It's a funny bit of obvious hypocrisy the way Micah hides behind being a horror writer as an excuse for why none of his work can be criticized and he can't be held accountable for the things that he writes even when they're about real living people, but he also believes "TERF" writers should be silenced and no one should ever listen to them, read what they write, or speak to them, to the point that he refuses to talk to any media outlet that also speaks to a wrongthinking woman.

There's been a few cases in England where coomers have written fanfiction about murdering real celebrities and got arrested for it. The last one I saw in the news was a gross basement dweller who wrote a story about raping, murdering and dismembering all the members of Girls Aloud - would've been perfectly legal if he'd had the imagination to write characters of his own, but since he'd used real people it was a credible threat.

 

[AMHOLIO]

More tweets:

Apparently Gretchen won't just not debate with TERFs, she won't debate with anyone on HER OWN side.





Also, some genders are more equal than others. Why bother saying the person's name when you can just be dismissive of everyone else their gender?



He seems to dislike her so much he needs everyone who doesn't subscribe to his patreon to know. (And someone archived it first, thanks!) He's probably pissed because all XY disappear....including transwomen.


I look forward to the spotless portrayal of race in Retchen's book.

Also shows proof she sent an email to the news:

Spoiler: Gretchen Fans

Spoiler: Gretchen Roasters

Yes, you can have the original too.

Spoiler: Jesus lovers who can't read a room

How do you look at someone like this who actively hates and insults Christianity and think you can turn them to the lord by guilt? I'm thankful most Christians aren't oblivious enough to do this.

It all reads as if Gretchen is TOTALLY not mad, guys. Totally.

 

[Sourceress]

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I'm sorry, is this the same white man who has had his majority white male (and one token woman of color) characters endlessly complain and shit-talk about "white girls" and how evil and horrible "white girls" are at every opportunity, including having a white male character claim that a white woman deserved to die for having her hair in braids because she's white?

The same white man who only has what, two characters of color with names and lines?

He really wants to be throwing stones from this particular glass house he's sitting in?

 

[umami's milk]

sex offenders vs sex defenders.
that one micah minion that went 'YES OF COURSE MADAME GRETCHEN' after being told to untag.

You cannibal.

 

[Accept Only Substitutes]

I gave it a go. The scene where they find our boy's bike.

View attachment 3210608

There's been a few cases in England where coomers have written fanfiction about murdering real celebrities and got arrested for it. The last one I saw in the news was a gross basement dweller who wrote a story about raping, murdering and dismembering all the members of Girls Aloud - would've been perfectly legal if he'd had the imagination to write characters of his own, but since he'd used real people it was a credible threat.

I am not surprised. Fanfic is such a grey area wrt copyright and so forth in the first place. I think it was finally decided that it was legal, publishers couldn't go after people for writing it because they were creating transformitive works. Taking X property and adding Y components and creating Z new thing. That's always been legal under US copyright law. You just can't make money directly off what you write, because you haven't transformed it THAT much.

Thus 50 Shades of Grey.

But once you start getting into RPF - real person fiction, which is exactly what it sounds like - the law gets fuzzy again. Ao3 thinks RPF is legal, at least in the US, they have lawyers who volunteer with them, so I can only take their word for it. That's people's perverted (usually) fantasies about real life people. Actors have been told about these stories and even tried to be given these things, which is fucked up enough. Imagine what the more unhinged do.

So, yeah. RPF writers are squicky as best, dangerous at worst. Good for them for taking it seriously. Most people who write this shit, even the idiots who harass the talent with it, are just garden variety perverts. But there are always dangerous people out there.

You couldn't pay me enough to be famous these days. Saw a video of Taylor Momsen doing insane parkour - including climbing a parking garage / just to get away from the paparazzi. Who wants that kind of life? I mean, mad impressive upper body strength, but damn.

 

[AMHOLIO]

that one micah minion that went 'YES OF COURSE MADAME GRETCHEN' after being told to untag.

The poor thing shouldn't even bother. Some exciting tweets from DiH:




Noble cause, worried though since the tweeter is a spoonie. DiH also says LGBTQ+ then mentions trans only. Seems like they are at least familiar with the rest then.


DiH also retweeted THIS autism (archive so you can enjoy the whole thing?)



Apparently it's an RP account of sorts. I know we had a Kevin and the Tranch fanfic that was majorly autistic too but man, put more effort into your dunking on JKR and Bindel (imagine having Lovecraft in an RP and not addressing his /pol/ tier rhetoric.)

 

[umami's milk]

He keeps retweeting his pateron. It's hilarious.

This, however, is not.

Spoiler: islam

 

[Hongourable Madisha]

The poor thing shouldn't even bother. Some exciting tweets from DiH:

View attachment 3210685

View attachment 3210687
Noble cause, worried though since the tweeter is a spoonie. DiH also says LGBTQ+ then mentions trans only. Seems like they are at least familiar with the rest then.
View attachment 3210686

DiH also retweeted THIS autism (archive so you can enjoy the whole thing?)

View attachment 3210688
View attachment 3210689
Apparently it's an RP account of sorts. I know we had a Kevin and the Tranch fanfic that was majorly autistic too but man, put more effort into your dunking on JKR and Bindel:
View attachment 3210708
(Imagine having Lovecraft in an RP and not addressing his /pol/ tier rhetoric.)

I thought I recognised that banner art. David "Davoul" Mumford's a guy who shows up in a bunch of nerd circles, mainly organising LARPs and drawing thinly veiled fap material, often of people he knows. There's been some allegations about him being handsy with women in the past, no idea if there was anything to it though. His Twitter looks unchanged for years (as does his art style) but his Facebook is here. Not much lulz to be had these days, but he used to be a minor cow at gaming conventions and the like. https://m.facebook.com/david.e.mumford

 

[cherrysour]

Previous chapter

Part Two, Chapter V: Daddy Issues

“Daddy issues” is going to be a weird sex thing, isn’t it? Let's find out!

A pool.

Yay!

The smell of chlorine. The echoing slap of wet feet against white tile. The intermittent splashes as women launched themselves off of the diving blocks and plunged through their rippling reflections.

Sounds delightful! This is Fran’s POV, BTW.

She’d woken early, the lights in the main thread still dimmed when she ducked into the hall, and padded barefoot to the refectory, where she ate browned onions, bacon, eggs, and mushrooms with a fat slice of brown bread dripping with butter.

Wait, I thought a refectory was part of a church.

OK, Googled it, and: not exactly. Per Oxford Languages, a refectory is “a room used for communal meals in an educational or religious institution.” Per the Cambridge Dictionary, it’s “a large room in a monastery, college, school, etc. where meals are eaten.” So I’ll allow it, but only because The Brat said that her dad and stepmom built the Lesbian Slumber Party Guggenheim as a post-apocalyptic medical school.

That said, Fran’s breakfast sounds delicious. I hope he remembered his please-and-thank-yous. (He didn’t; it’s enough for him to bless the LSPG with his saintly presence).

There was an aquarium set into one wall, and for a while Fran watched iridescent fish flit in and out of beds of waving water weed as snails progressed at glacial speed across the glass.

What’s the timeline for the fish tank setup? Were the fish there prior to T-Day? Or were they brought in afterwards? I like the latter because it’s funnier. I’m picturing Ziploc bags full of water and fish tossed underhand through closing blast doors.

A few minutes’ walk up the thread, the murmur and rustle of women changing, showering, toweling off in the locker room, and here she was at the pool’s edge, watching slender figures glide over the depth markers stenciled on the tiled bottom.

See, bigots? Fran got his dick out in the locker room and everyone was JUST FINE.

Fran Lia-s it back and forth in the pool while thinking back on his time as an adolescent Speedo-clad boy swimmer. There’s a thorough description of his adolescent junk because: Manhunt.

I could do this every day, she thought, turning to look back out over the pool at the bobbing blue and white segmented buoys, the soaked fiber cords, the timing board over the deep end, and the lifeguard sitting on a bench with a battered paperback and an iced coffee. Is it finally over? She drew a deep, shaky breath. I don’t ever have to run again.

So there’s breakfast, and aquariums, and a pool, AND a lifeguard? With a paperback and an iced coffee? These ladies have their shit together!

* * *​

POV: Indi, disinfecting the lab.

The stink of solvents burning her nostrils as she transferred disorganized jumbles of instruments—she’d found an engraved nutcracker mixed in with a mismatched set of antique scalpels—from tray to tray, leaving bits of dirt and grime to float in the solutions.

NUTCRACKER. That’s no accident. But you’re telling me that the builders of the LSPG remembered the fish tank but forgot the medical instruments? When they were building it as a med school? (This is not the most farfetched detail in the chapter. Just wait until you see what Beth's been up to.)

Indi is working with “motherly Ecuadorean woman” Mariana, “who spoke little English but who Indi was fairly sure had been some kind of orthopedic specialist.”

She must be from the camp, thought Indi, looking up from the mind-numbing task of plucking each part of a disassembled speculum out of the first tray with long-nosed tweezers for deposit in the second. Everyone else in this place is pure Wonder Bread.

Unlike the author, who—oh. Right.

The twins certainly were. Corinne and Sylvia Slate, identically blonde, identically tanned, identically slender and toned.

We can 100% add “Wakefield twins” to the author’s list of sexual fetishes.

Corinne headed the Screw’s administrative apparatus, the web of favorites and functionaries who allotted rations, assigned jobs, and oversaw maintenance requests, intercom switchboard operation, and power distribution from the compound’s geothermal and hydroelectric setups.

That’s the LSPG power question answered, I guess? Anyhoo, the twins are passing on Sophie’s (a.k.a. The Brat, a.k.a. Tori Spelling) complaint that Indi and company have been at the LSPG for six weeks already and Sophie’s not pregnant yet:

Indi sighed, pushing her rolling chair back from her workstation and moving her cracked protective goggles up onto her hair. “With semen from an uninfected donor,” she began, forcing herself to speak patiently, “we’d only have to monitor Sophie’s testosterone production throughout the pregnancy. Ninety-nine out of a hundred times there are no complications, no matter the baby’s sex or chromosomal makeup. With ejaculant from a new man, it’s a different story. When they impregnate a victim, the baby is XY. No variation. It undergoes viral metamorphosis in utero and eats its way out of the mother at three or four months. A few hours later, it can hunt for itself. In a year, it’s sexually mature.”

Took me a minute to realize that Indi calls zombies “new men.” Maybe she’s being polite for Mackenzie’s sake.

“So you’ll do in vitro,” said Corinne, inspecting her flawlessly tanned complexion—there was a little salon up on the presidium level, near the pool—in the mirror of her compact. “Make sure the baby’s XX.”

Not to beat a dead horse, but: fake tans and compacts yes, medical instruments no?

Also, and bear in mind I’m no medfag, if they don’t have the right equipment and they’re only just now scraping the grime off the nutcrackers, what has Indi been doing for the past six weeks? I’m with Sophie on this one.

Indi, fat (like the author), explains that she needs specialized equipment and staff.

“We got you that Dominican.”

Hee. Bitch. But Indi needs a chemist, which Mariana the "Dominican” is not.

"Right now, without a microarray, I can’t be sure whether or not the”—muzzle on his face, skin scabby and peeling, black tongue wrapped tight around Sophie’s little wrist—“donor can even contribute an X chromosome.”

The author has made too many careless errors for me to take his (Indi’s) word for it on the necessity of a “microarray,” but okay, sure.

Indi hates Sophie, feels conflicted about working for her:

In some ways it made it easier, focusing solely on the technical problem at hand. She didn’t have to think about the snotty little child empress she was doing it for, or the people starving in the camp outside the blast gate. There are people starving everywhere, she told herself sometimes, when guilt crept close as she lay on her memory-foam mattress, cool filtered air blowing over her, the taste of butter lingering on her tongue. There always were, and always will be. Being here, making a place for Fran and Beth and Robbie … a place for me. Is it really so bad?

It's not. This is the apocalypse. Get it, Indi! Air out that gunt under that sweet, sweet blood AC!

But hey, I’ve seen enough My 600-Pound Life to know that Indi, deathfat, is eating at least three or four people’s worth of calories every day to maintain her weight. While there are people starving outside her literal front door. I think even Beth could connect those dots.

“Give me a month,” said Indi. “And get me what I need.”

* * *​

POV: Fran, in a truck with one Nam-joo, “haggard bunkerite.” Driving along the coast. The man flu has apparently caused beachfront houses to collapse into the ocean, which is why I don’t trust the author re: the necessity of whatever a microarray is.

Fran and friend arrive at a checkpoint womanned by a sauntering 50-ish type, “a little cross-eyed, hair cropped to gray stubble.” This is Legion (Teach?) territory. We learn that Fran’s last name is Fine. He’s nervous and twitchy.

No one knows, she thought giddily to herself. No one knows at all.

Haha. Sure, Fran.

“You’re all set,” said the woman, grinning broadly as she reached in through the window. In her hand she held two laminated cards, one stamped with Fran’s name, the other with Nam-joo’s, and both subtitled with a neat, perfunctory XX. Fran’s heart skipped a beat as she took hers, the soldier stepping back from the window and waving them on through the blockade with a shout of “Welcome to Raymond, ladies!”

Hang on, a laminated card stamped with Fran’s name? I have questions. Why on earth would the TERFs have a stamp with Fran’s name on it? Well, OK, maybe it’s one of those rotating-character stamps, but in that case, wouldn’t the ink from the stamp just rub off the laminate? Or are they stamping the cards and then laminating them? In which case they're just chilling outside with a laminating machine? Powered by what, a bunch of extension cords?

And more importantly: fucking double haha. We are to believe that Fran is the mythical Passing Transsexual in the age of no filters, no MySpace angles, and no drag makeup. But if such men exist, surely the TERFs have encountered one before? And if they have, and are therefore aware of such men, surely the TERFs would give everyone passing through their checkpoints a quick crotch patdown? Or a little looksee down the waistband? Would that not be the most efficient way to exclude potential cannibalistic rape zombies? Oh, I forgot, this isn’t about efficiency, or logic; it’s about author wish fulfillment. Beth is who the author is; Fran is the pretty princess he wishes he was. And pretty princesses never, ever get clocked.

* * *​

POV: Robbie. She’s in a truck too, with Doe, a.k.a. Pit Stains, along with four more women and lots of projectile weapons.

Robbie, hungover, remembers confessing to arson the night before, which makes her think of being "inside" Fran (really). I get the impression that the author’s definition of “woman” is not “adult human female,” but rather something to do with sexual penetration. Which: fuck off, and counterpoint one of many: gay men. Try again, creep.

Anyway, the bunker truck drives through the LSPG-adjacent refugee camp. Like Indi, Robbie feels guilty about her cushy situation.

Why am I here? Because a girl held my hand and asked me to go steady?

Well, yes. But this is the apocalypse, Robbie. Revel in your good fortune! Or at least recognize that your guilt does precisely dick to improve the refugees’ living conditions. If you want to help, figure out a way to help. Marinating in your own feelings is just narcissism disguised as sympathy.

I don’t like any of it.

That makes two of us.

* * *​

POV: sad-sack Beth. He's hanging out with one Dani:

The other trans girl was a little younger than her, tall and bony with jutting cheekbones and black hair tied back in a messy knot. Her breath smelled overpoweringly of licorice root.

Dani is leading Beth on a tour of a part of the LSPG we haven’t seen before.

They passed through the lounge and into the dressing room, a little bigger than a galley kitchen, the long mirrors on the north wall ringed in fairy lights. Men’s clothes hanging from pegs like discarded snake skins. Suits and silk pajamas and sweat-smelling flannel shirts. Fake beards on dummy aesthetician heads; Beth could hardly bring herself to look at them.

Does the LSPG have a theater? Is this the flip side of Shakespeare’s day, and they have lady actors playing Hamlet or whatever?

“This is where the, uh, magic happens, I guess.” Another smile, rueful and a little sad. “Sometimes they just want a dick, sometimes they want the whole deal. It’s not that bad, once you get used to it.” A hand placed gently on her forearm. “Have you ever daddied before?”

HOLY SHIT, NOT A THEATER. So the women of the LSPG assign the otherwise-useless men to the male harem? The failures as fuck fodder? And that's where goddamn Beth ends up? DISBELIEF UNSUSPENDED.

Oh, and let’s not forget that Beth is the author’s stand-in. Let's all take a minute to picture the author as a sex slave in the post-apocalyptic white-lady Nazi fuck bunker. I cannot emphasize enough how utterly goddamned ridiculous this plotline is. And how definitively it reveals that this book was written by a man. Jesus Christ. I'll take my top hats now.

Unlikely sex-slave Beth, crying again, remembers graduating from high school with Fran:

That night, Fran posing naked in front of the mirror in Beth’s bedroom, one hand cupped over her cock. What if I were a girl? Wouldn’t that be weird?

All together now: Would you fuck me? I’d fuck me.

Beth’s crying in the flashback, too. When doesn’t he?

They’d had The Fight a few days later. After that, she hadn’t seen Fran for five years.

What fight? Whatever. Beth's a "daddy" now!

* * *​

POV: Robbie again. She’s out manhunting with Doe and the girls. Some have eye black smeared along their cheekbones. That’s hot. Because this is Manhunt, Robbie has her period again, but she’s using a menstrual cup rather than a pad this time (thanks, Manhunt!).

Robbie’s feeling some class anxiety and prefers the outdoors to the LSPG:

The bunker stank of money. Of wealth. New England women idling their days away on private squash courts and the cocktail lounge down on the second thread of the Screw.

“Private” squash courts and a cocktail lounge? Sounds fancy! But—like our man Beth being kicked out of the stinky lady collective—what’s the alternative here, Robbie? If the women in the bunker stop using the squash courts and the cocktail lounge, how does that help the people outside? I don't think it does. Neither does narcissistic posturing. If you want to help the refugees, Robbie, figure out a way and do it! Maybe Fran could pitch in. He doesn’t appear to be doing anything but swanning around the LSPG in a swimsuit.

Like Indi, Robbie's noticed that the LSPG is mighty white:

The women who lived there were mostly white. Mostly young. Mostly pretty, in a kind of Abercrombie & Fitch catalog way. He saw the way they looked at him. He always felt like a rat when he went out into the main passage, scurrying from shadow to shadow. They were trying to puzzle out whether he was white or not, whether his deep tan was just that—a tan—or evidence of something else, and then whether they wanted to fuck him.

Are they really, though, Robbie? Trying to puzzle out what you “are” and whether they want to fuck you? Or are you just a bog-standard narcissist?

Robbie, still menstruating and apparently half-Pueblo, makes conversation with one Sam (who?):

“How long have you been in the bunker?” he asked. They’d stopped by a narrow stream to fill their canteens and rest their feet. Clean water chuckled over mossy stones. In another life he might have hunted in a place like this, might have had someone like him to show him how to be something other than white people’s version of a man.

Sam, not having it, just wants to shoot some zombies with arrows. Which they do.

A quarrel, Robbie remembered out of nowhere. That was what you called them, like they were a way to end an argument.

If you’re a man, maybe, which the author is. What was it that Louis XIV engraved on his cannons? Ultima Ratio Regum. The Last Argument of Kings.

Anyway, they fill Sam’s red lunchbox with zombie balls while Robbie wonders what happened to the LSPG’s last doctor. (I’d say DUN DUN DUN, but I don’t think this is ever explained besides “got sick,” so whatever again.)

* * *​

POV: Fran, still in the truck.

From the TERFs standing guard outside the town hall—two middle-aged white women, head to toe in riot gear, with an unmistakably suburban aura —they learned that the council was meeting up at the Shaw house, that Fallingwater knockoff on the hill overlooking Indi’s house. Town hall was closed for renovation.

How does he know they’re middle-aged suburbanites if they’re covered in riot gear? Is the author commenting on their fuckability? Does he imagine himself competing with these women for the affections of the barb-donged rape zombies? We already know they're into Beth; I think he has a shot!

Fran frets about being outed as a man. He thinks about his Adam’s apple and “the single speck of razor burn” under his jaw. We learn that his shirt has “a small cum stain which, thankfully, was down low enough to tuck into her pants.” Just lesbian things, right, ladies?

Now Fran and Nam-joo arrive at the Fallingwater knockoff.

In the house’s vast, empty great room, its plate glass wall overlooking the ashen expanse of the burn zone and beyond it the shore’s rolling dunes where the wreck of the destroyer Tecumseh—which had run aground when its dying crew attempted to scuttle it—lay heeled over and beached, two women Fran recognized from the handful of city council meetings she’d attended were seated at a folding table with two others she didn’t know, one in her late thirties or early forties, her coarse black mane of hair thrown over one shoulder and half her skull cropped down to stubble, the other tall and broad-shouldered, a swimmer’s body, absorbed in conversation with a younger TERF kneeling beside her chair.

Fran and Nam-joo are introduced to the council and the older Skrillex TERF is like, enough small talk. I like her.

The other stranger turned back to the table as Fran and Nam-joo took their seats, her whispered conversation ended. Fran nearly froze. That short blond hair. That stupid flower tattoo. And in her nose, its belled ends shining, a septum piercing.

Ah, she thought. Fuck.

Uh-oh! Fuck indeed! Will Septum Piercing, a.k.a. Ramona, remember Fran from their encounter in Part One, Chapter II? Will she out him to the TERFs? Cliffhanger!

That's it for the chapter. I wholeheartedly look forward to your comments on Beth-as-sex-slave.

 

[AMHOLIO]

That's it for the chapter. I wholeheartedly look forward to your comments on Beth-as-sex-slave.

I'll let someone else handle it instead:


Prediction: the blonde twins are aryan super soldiers or the whole compound is dedicated to it. We will descend into LITERAL nazi terfs where Fran and or Beth blow up or decapitate HitlerTERF. Because, as we all know, radfems love the alt right.

 

[jumboseafood]

Nothing is more funny than a dude in a dress calling himself a homophobic slur aganist Lesbians

 

[Hugbox Kommissar]

Oh, and let’s not forget that Beth is the author’s stand-in. Let's all take a minute to picture the author as a sex slave in the post-apocalyptic white-lady Nazi fuck bunker. I cannot emphasize enough how utterly goddamned ridiculous this plotline is. And how definitively it reveals that this book was written by a man. Jesus Christ. I'll take my top hats now.

Before the apocalypse, trannies had two career options: prostitution and programming. There is no more internet after the apocalypse, so....

 

[AMHOLIO]

Before the apocalypse, trannies had two career options: prostitution and programming. There is no more internet after the apocalypse, so....

Chris-chan finally gaining a cult following for his "healing" abilities.

Edit: I'm sorry I wrote that but it would be a pussy move to remove my retarded horrendous statement. Take comfort in Chris probably being killed by rape ape men over food or legos instead.

 

[luigismanslave]

The zombie babies become sexually active at age 1? There are baby rape zombies? Was it really necessary to expand on this detail? We're supposed to believe trannies aren't pedos?

 

[Niggaplease]

The poor thing shouldn't even bother. Some exciting tweets from DiH:

View attachment 3210685

View attachment 3210687
Noble cause, worried though since the tweeter is a spoonie. DiH also says LGBTQ+ then mentions trans only. Seems like they are at least familiar with the rest then.
View attachment 3210686

DiH also retweeted THIS autism (archive so you can enjoy the whole thing?)

View attachment 3210688
View attachment 3210689
Apparently it's an RP account of sorts. I know we had a Kevin and the Tranch fanfic that was majorly autistic too but man, put more effort into your dunking on JKR and Bindel (imagine having Lovecraft in an RP and not addressing his /pol/ tier rhetoric.)

to answer diversity in horrors question, I don't read splatter punk, so if how the fuck do I know male writers write this kind of depraved shit on a regular basis? I read man hunt because it overlapped with post apocalyptical pandemic fiction, which is what I normally read other than the occasional bodice ripper. if the male writers write this kind of shit all the time in splatter punk, then guess what, you have a serious misogny problem that you need to look into, that I won't touch on because I am not going to subject myself to intentional rape and gore if I don't have too. If the writer indentified as their biological sex I would still have issues, if the writer was a biological female I'd drag her harder for betraying her own sex and being the ultimate handmaid with no back bone. My disgust would be the same regardless of what the writer is, rape as a casual literary tool isn't okay, I spend literally fucking weeks writing out shitty amazon kindle books on my free time as a side hustle on fivver, I take my writing seriously, I may not be the best writer, but atleast I understand enough about horror when it comes to details less is more, you don't have to be over explicit to send waves of disgust and horror in your readers, you just need to give your readers just enough details to ponder and chew on, and keep chewing on to trigger their apprehension and anxiety before revealing what we should be scared off. Gretchen has failed in that most basic task, keep me the reader in a state of apprehension, fear and disgust, instead I just feel annoyed and angered.

 

[Niggaplease]

The zombie babies become sexually active at age 1? There are baby rape zombies? Was it really necessary to expand on this detail? We're supposed to believe trannies aren't pedos?

i hate double posting but while I can handle zombe babies and children, zombie babies and children that are capable of sexual reproduction, yeah gretchen the fbi need needs to be digging on your harddrive asap, I am pretty sure aside from rough drafts of rape zombie baby sex scense, there might be csam.
why hasn't any one mentioned the zombie rape baby on twitter yet?