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An obese fifty-year-old with long, straggly dark hair, her legs were like water-filled sacks of skin; when she walked it was with a painful waddle.
Jesus fucking christ
You’re going to stop the boys from screwing me and Jemima and Kay, are you? Then where are they going to go for it? Huh? Lotsa your good parishioners got daughters. You think they want Ivets prowling round at night? And how about you, Father, do you want Leslie and Douglas giving your sweet little friend Jay the eye? Do you? Because they will if they can’t get it from me.
Oh for fuck's sake.
And Jay as in... the very small child? She's like 5 or 7? Seriously.
"Yea, verily, witness the community-destroying power of young cishet men not getting their sexual desires met --god only knows what might happen if they aren't assigned a body to use."
Now Lawrence belonged to him, his sweet arse, the golden length of his dick, and his mind. Lawrence’s devotion to Quinn had evolved to a form of worship.
You mean to say that the antagonist, who's a Satanist, murderer, rapist, animal abuser, etc., etc. *also* happens to be the only gay character in the whole wide future-world? This is my I'm-not-shocked-I'm-just-disappointed face.
And yeah, rape survivors falling in love with their rapists totally sounds like it's a thing.
A nonplussed frown creased the folds of spare flesh on Gail’s gibbous face for a second.
Wow. Back to this again. Enough with the fat-shaming already, omg!
A splash of light from the galley shone out, showing the sweat beading on her blubbery arms.
Dear gods
“That T-shirt’s nice and tight. But it hardly flatters your figure, now does it?” “I paid you,” Marie said in a frail voice. “All the way to Durringham.” “That won’t cover our costs, lovie. We told you, it’s expensive travelling this river. You have to work your passage.”
Are you fucking kidding me. Whether it's willing or not, basically the Thing that teenaged girls do is have sex, enter sexual slavery, get raped... huh, have we left anything out? Oh, get pregnant. Don't worry, that's another way in which biology will dictate plot for other female characters.
Look at the contrast, I’m like an albino compared to you. I like it, he told her. All the girls here are coffee coloured or darker, how are we supposed to tell if we’re African-ethnic or not?
A career officer who had left his Polish-ethnic world of Mazowiecki twenty-nine years previously, he was forty-seven:
Does the religious factor affect our chances of getting a cargo?” “Definitely not, they’re English-ethnic, far too polite to be prejudiced, at least in public.”
