Eminem’s Throat Goat

You feel that itch?
          That annoying, restless feeling that makes you open Wattpad at 2 a.m. even though you swore you were done.
          Yeah. That’s Slim in your ear. Don’t play dumb.
          
          This is The Shady Writers Room. Not a cute little server. A place you end up because something in you is already wired wrong in the right way. We read Eminem fanfiction like it’s research. We write it like we black out mid sentence and wake up to paragraphs we don’t remember typing. It’s loud, messy, reckless, and powered entirely by Marshall Mathers discourse and bad ideas that somehow work.
          
          Writers come in feral with unfinished drafts and too many feelings. We rip scenes apart, fight about pacing, and turn full spirals into chapters that actually hit. Readers come in just as loud. Screaming in real time. Losing their minds publicly. Hyping, enabling, making it worse. No lurking. If you’re here, you participate. Silence is suspicious.
          
          We don’t do fake polite or gentle feedback.
          If your fic hits, it gets worshipped.
          If it doesn’t, it gets dragged until it improves.
          That’s love in this house.
          
          We are a community that feels like family. Loud, messy, ride or die family. We fight, spiral, drag each other relentlessly, and still show up every time. Explaining us makes about as much sense as explaining the Mathers family tree. We hype hard, call bullshit fast, and protect our own like it’s blood.
          
          And yes, we talk about Slim Shady like he’s the toxic ex we block, unblock, and text again at 2 a.m. fully aware this ends badly. We know better. We keep coming back anyway.
          
          If this sounds like a red flag, leave now.
          If it sounds like home, stop fighting it.
          
          Enter the chaos:
          https://discord.gg/xDVZs9Mcta
          
          Stay shady. Keep creating. Never stop being unapologetically you.

You didn’t find this by accident. Nobody ever does.
          
          This is The Shady Writers Room. A gathering place for people who read Eminem fanfiction like it’s a personality trait and write it like something is actively wrong with them. It’s loud. It’s chaotic. It’s honest to the point of concern. And yes, it revolves entirely around Marshall Mathers in all his unhinged glory.
          
          Writers come here to tear scenes apart, fix pacing, scream about plots, and turn half-baked ideas into full emotional crimes. Readers come here to react in real time, lose their minds publicly, argue theories, and feed the chaos that keeps the writers alive. Nobody lurks. Everybody participates. Silence is suspicious.
          
          There’s no fake polite energy here. If your work hits, it gets worshipped. If it doesn’t, it gets fixed. We hype hard, drag honestly, and show up for each other like a dysfunctional family that argues loud and protects louder.
          
          We talk about Slim Shady like he’s the toxic ex we swear we’re done with until he shows up again and suddenly we’re cancelling plans. We know better. We do not care.
          
          If this sounds like too much, close the tab.
          If this feels familiar, congratulations, you’re already one of us.
          
          Enter at your own risk:
          https://discord.gg/xDVZs9Mcta
          
          Stay shady. Keep creating. Never stop being unapologetically you.

Wattpad I’m at the end of my fucking rope, and I’m done pretending this is just annoying glitches.
          
          The stats are fucked.
          
          Explain how stories with barely any reads are ranked higher than stories with hundreds of thousands.
          
          That is not exposure or fairness, that is the system lying.
          
          This is not me coming for new writers.
          
          New writers SHOULD get exposure, but not fraudulently, and not by stealing placement from writers who’ve put in years of work.
          
          You don’t fix discoverability by breaking the maths.
          
          If the stats don’t reflect reality, what’s the point.
          
          That’s the ranking system being broken.
          
          And the chapter rearranging glitch, it’s happened too many times, opening your own book and seeing chapters out of order makes you feel insane, like did I fuck this up, no, Wattpad did, again.
          
          That makes writers look incompetent, and WE are the ones wasting time having to unpublish and republish for a bug that shouldn’t exist.
          
          Then there’s the comments, disappearing, not loading, readers unable to comment, the ONE thing that keeps engagement alive is broken too.
          
          That kills community and motivation.
          
          Wattpad knows they’ve got us in a chokehold, even while doing the bare fucking minimum.
          
          Instead of fixing this, Wattpad is chasing money while the foundation cracks, the damn app can’t count, search, notify, keep chapters in order, or keep comments visible.
          
          You could be fixing stats, rankings, discoverability, comments, adding a publish all button, adding co-writing tools, investing in the people keeping this platform alive.
          
          There is so much potential here and watching it get wasted is infuriating.
          
          I’m angry because I care, I’m exhausted from fixing Wattpad’s mistakes, and I’m still writing out of spite.
          
          Fix your shit Wattpad.

December 26th.
          
          Which means congratulations you feral little survivor, you lived through another calendar year that tried to spiritually mug you in a dark alley and steal your last functioning brain cell.
          
          If you’re still breathing right now, even if you’re doing it out of spite, caffeine, or pure dissociation, that counts as resilience.
          If you wrote nothing, deleted everything, rewrote the same chapter seventeen times, or stared at a blinking cursor like it personally betrayed you, you’re still a writer.
          If life body slammed you with trauma, grief, burnout, executive dysfunction, or a full existential meltdown in the cereal aisle, welcome to the club, snacks are emotional support only.
          
          This year was a flaming dumpsterfire rolling downhill with a megaphone screaming character development while throwing plot twists directly at your forehead.
          Some of us survived on drafts, some on delusion, some on maladaptive coping mechanisms that would not pass peer review.
          And yet here you are. Still standing. Still unhinged. Still capable of picking up the pen and choosing violence in a Google Doc.
          
          You don’t need a perfect comeback arc.
          You don’t need clarity.
          You don’t need motivation.
          
          You just need to keep going badly, loudly, messily, and with the unearned confidence of someone who has already survived worse.
          
          So cry if you need to.
          Scream into the void.
          Delete the draft. Rewrite it. Start again.
          Light the year on fire in your rearview mirror and keep driving.
          
          Stay Shady, keep creating, and never stop being unapologetically you.

Children of Marshall. Worshippers of Slim. Survivors of Eminem’s discography. Gather round.
          
          If you are reading this, congratulations, the Shady Spirit has chosen you. You did not click this by accident. Something inside you heard a distant Detroit echo whispering My Name Is and your dumbass followed it.
          
          Welcome to The Shady Writers Room, also known as the Church of Unhinged Fanfic and Questionable Life Choices. All hail our lord and saviour Marshall Mathers. God bless Slim Shady for our sins.
          
          Inside this holy house of chaos:
          • Writers sacrificing chapters like offerings to the Mathers altar
          • Readers catching the Holy Ghost every time Marshall smirks in a fic
          • Brainstorms that start sane and end in demon possession
          • A congregation that drags you, hypes you, and resurrects your ego in the name of Slim
          
          We practice aggressive worship here.
          No sugar. No softness.
          If your writing hits, we praise like Slim just dropped a surprise album.
          If your plot crashes, we fix it like Paul Rosenberg on damage control.
          If you want gentle feedback, Walmart is open. Go buy a journal.
          
          Here, Marshall is not a man.
          He is lore.
          He is scripture.
          He is the patron saint of backshots and emotional instability.
          We speak his name like a prayer and a threat at the same time.
          He ruins lives. We thank him.
          He disappears. We forgive him.
          He comes back angry. We cheer.
          
          Readers, bring your feral reactions and unholy thirst.
          Writers, bring your chaotic drafts and trembling offerings.
          Everyone else, bring your last brain cell and kiss it goodbye.
          
          If you feel the pull, that is Slim Shady claiming your soul.
          If you feel unwell, perfect, that means you are one of us.
          If you are laughing, you are already initiated.
          
          Enter the sanctuary:
          https://discord.gg/xDVZs9Mcta
          
          May Slim watch over your chaos, may Marshall forgive your delusion, and may Eminem guide your unholy creativity. Go in Shady, and blessed be the backshots.

I’m alive.
          Barely.
          But somehow still breathing and causing problems.
          
          Quick little update because I know half of you assumed I wandered off to turn my mental breakdown into a full Slim Shady skit and just never bothered to return to reality.
          
          Plot twist.
          I’ve actually been busy getting jumped by the boss level trio of severe depression, anxiety, and an adjustment disorder.
          Peak side quest energy.
          Zero stars. Would not recommend.
          
          But the good news.
          My doctor finally ripped me off Prozac and launched me onto Valomel.
          The one that actually lets me sleep instead of pacing the house at three in the morning like 2000s Shady on a bender.
          
          And surprise.
          I’m sleeping again.
          I’m writing again.
          My brain isn’t running Windows ninety five with the fan screaming for mercy anymore.
          
          The manic episodes are still clocking in because apparently I can’t have a single hobby without chaos tagging along.
          But at least now I’m unhinged and medicated.
          A win’s a win.
          
          If I was chaotic before, just know the dopamine has unlocked my final form.
          
          Anyway.
          Hi.
          I live.
          I’m no longer hanging on by a thread dipped in delusion.
          And I’m writing again. Slowly. Chaotically. Delusionally. But writing.
          
          Unfortunately for everyone who thought they were safe while I was gone.
          Brace yourselves.
          I’m back bitches.

Fanfic Degenerates. Readers. Writers. Unstable creatives. Get your asses in here.
          
          If you have ever read an Eminem fanfic so intense it rearranged your spine or written one like you blacked out and let your trauma type for you, welcome. You officially found the only place on Wattpad that matches your level of unfiltered insanity.
          
          The Shady Writers Room is loud, messy, and built by people who have not known peace since Marshall said guess who is back.
          
          Inside this madhouse:
          • Writers dropping chapters that feel like emotional assault
          • Readers reacting like someone just pulled their soul through their chest
          • Idea dumping sessions that start normal and end in FBI watchlist territory
          • A community that hypes, drags, supports, bullies with love, and never shuts up
          
          We are not polite. We are not soft. We are not here to play nice.
          If your writing hits, we will scream.
          If your plot falls apart, we will rebuild it with duct tape and audacity.
          If you want sugar coated feedback, go find a cupcake server.
          
          We talk about Marshall like he is the emotionally unavailable ex who ruins your life every time and somehow makes it worth it.
          We spiral together. We scream together. We lose our minds together.
          That is the point.
          
          Readers, bring the chaos.
          Writers, bring the delusion.
          Everyone else, bring your last brain cell and sacrifice it at the door.
          
          If you are still reading, you belong here.
          Do not question it. Just get in.
          
          Enter the madness:
          https://discord.gg/xDVZs9Mcta
          
          Stay shady. Keep creating. Never stop being unapologetically you.

CHAPTER SIX IS UP: WHO’S YOUR DADDY?
          
          It’s Marshall’s POV. Which means it’s filthy, loud, and not safe for the innocent or the jealous.
          
          Morning hits.
          Sheets trashed.
          Sweat dried in all the wrong places.
          There’s a black lace secret buried in the bed. Nobody else will ever get close.
          
          He’s marked up and grinning.
          King of Detroit loose in LA.
          Body humming with the taste of the most wanted woman on the planet.
          
          This chapter is chaos.
          Grey sweatpants. No apologies.
          Blunt smoke in the air.
          Last night’s victory still written all over his skin.
          
          No cameras.
          No rumors.
          No one gets the proof but him.
          
          It’s raw.
          It’s dirty.
          It’s the kind of win that leaves the whole city aching from his afterglow.
          
          CHAPTER SIX IS LIVE.
          Read it before the high wears off.
          https://www.wattpad.com/1579204852?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_on_publish&wp_uname=SlimShadysFeverDream

Hey, you. Yeah, you pretending you were not just doom scrolling through my Wattpad like you are normal. Since you are here, you might as well join the circus we call The Shady Writers Room.
          
          It is loud. It is messy. It is unfiltered. It is full of Eminem fanfiction addicts who write like their trauma has a deadline and readers who react like they are watching a live breakdown in HD. If you are tired of fake polite spaces and people who crumble at honesty, you are going to thrive here.
          
          We are real. We are chaotic. We are unapologetic as hell.
          We say what we mean and we do not babysit fragile egos.
          If you have seen me shut down nonsense with a smile, you already get the vibe. We do not shrink ourselves or pretend to be softer than we are, but we always show up for our people. If you can handle honesty with loyalty behind it, you are going to fit right in.
          
          Writers:
          Drop your drafts. Scream about your plots. Cry about your pacing. Get hyped by people who get it. We write with delusion, rage, and a crush on a fifty three year old man who could ruin our lives and we would still thank him for the experience.
          
          Readers:
          You do not have to write a word, just bring your reactions, your chaos, your thirst, and your honesty. We want the caps lock meltdowns, the theories, the feral commentary, the I need help energy. You keep the room alive.
          
          And yes, we talk about Marshall like he is the back breaking toxic ex we all know we should not want but would still fold for on sight.
          
          If that offends you, run.
          If that excites you, baby, you already belong here. Welcome home.
          
          Enter the playground:
          https://discord.gg/xDVZs9Mcta
          
          Stay shady. Keep creating. Never stop being unapologetically you.

Savage Love Chapter 135
          
          She’s burning out, bored of patience and ready for war.
          He’s running his mouth, taunting fate, and acting like the world owes them a break.
          
          This chapter is about the countdown you feel in your bones, the chaos that follows you everywhere, and the kind of joy you can’t trust until it’s almost too late.
          
          It’s ugly, it’s loud, it’s alive in every crack and corner.
          Three weeks out and they still can’t walk into a clinic without turning the place upside down.
          
          It’s hope with a sharp edge.
          It’s fear you laugh at so you don’t break.
          It’s Savage Love.
          
          Chapter 135 is now live
          Go read, go scream, go tell me who needs the most therapy after this one.
          https://www.wattpad.com/1589737326?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=postToProfile&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_on_publish&wp_uname=SlimShadysFeverDream