You know, the ones who stand around the Twatterville clothesline with them gossiping like schoolgirls, the ones who punch them in the mouth and/or bruise and beat them to the point of bleeding and welts just to show that someone cares enough to ease their hate with pain, the ones who gladly support them when they decide to kill the bastard babies they test-tubed together.
Ie, the femboys of Twatterville.
Ie, the femboys of Twatterville.