#fuck these fucking stupid ass pieces of shit

[emgemwritesthings]

If Mr Beast has no haters then I'm dead!

Y'all should also look into his productions treatment of contestants on his stupid ass Squid Game show.

THEY WITHHELD FOOD! WATER! MEDICATIONS!!!!!!!!!

I CAN NOT PUT INTO WORDS HOW MUCH I HATE THIS MAN AND HIS STUPID PIECE OF SHIT SHOW ON AMAZON!!! AND FUCK YOU TOO AMAZON!!!!!!!

I hope this guy fucking dies because

A) he's Mr Beast

B) he has WAY too much money if he's renting out the PYRAMIDS OF GIZA????

C) renting out actual historical landmarks that have already been desecrated and destroyed over thousands of years for a goddamn youtube video is actually disgusting.

idk if you think that they're "just the pyramids", they're the ONLY remaining wonder of the ancient world!!! Not to mention!! they're TOMBS!! sure, the people who were inside are long gone, but like?? idk, maybe i'm oversely sensitive, but being a white dude and desecrating an ancient burial site (for profit) and thus disregarding thousands upon thousands of years of history and culture is probably Up There with the scummy stuff this jackass has done

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Fingers Sifting Black Earth 1 - That Awkward Moment When

Happy Yuletide, motherfuckers! Next story's up.

On AO3.

It is important for me to be down on my knees, my fingers sifting the black earth, making those things grow which will grow. —Ann Struthers, Planting the Sand Cherry

So you’re in hell. The air scorches the back of your throat and your pits are beyond dank. Your new (relatively) tunic clings to your back beneath your new (also relatively) drow armor, and your tit region is a full blown swamp.

Even Astarion, famously undead, shines with sweat.

“Everyone present and accounted for?” Gale says. Poor man is more soaked-through than you. Turns out wizard robes, without cooling enchantments which he’s short of at the moment, ain’t all that good for running around a magical forge embedded in a mother fucking lava lake.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Shadowheart says. She at least got a sweet, new set of armor outta that forge.

Lae’zel sways, and then glares when you notice. You don’t say nothing.

Only Karlach stays chipper. She’s waiting over with Wyll next to the big ass lever. On Gale’s nod, they manage to kick and shove the creaky bitch down. The metal platform y’all stand on groans. Jolts. You expect, for a pants-shitting moment, for the fucker to crack in half and drop y’all onto that lake. You read somewhere that people don’t actually sink into lave, like that volcano movie. Cause it’s melted rock with the same density. It’s a lot more like dropping a square of cold butter onto a hot-ass, stainless steel pan. Lots of sizzling and skittering around as the water in the body boils off. Course, you’re dead before you hit, since the superheated air sears shut the lungs—

Everybody’s staring at you. Wyll grimaces.

Oops. You’re all up in the brainworm group chat with that one.

“Sorry,” you say.

“That’s pretty accurate, actually,” Karlach says.

To which Wyll turns his horrified look to her. She just shrugs.

The platform shudders. Wheezes. Screams a little. And then starts to rise. All in one piece.

You sigh and slump. Let your head fall back to try to keep breathing the oven-hot air. You grew up in Oklahoma-sticky, been caught out in one-hundred-thirteen degrees with ninety percent humidity and northerners are always surprised when you tell that that yes, you can actually sweat on the backs of your hands.

Ain’t none of that compares to this hellscape. Literally.

Eventually, the first drafts of cooler air brush your cheeks. You’re beyond things like modesty right now, so you loosen the sides of your armor—thank you Gale for the perfect-fit enchantment—enough you can flap your tunic and try to relieve some of the tiddy sweat.

Catch Astarion watching you with one eyebrow quirked.

You try not to think about that just now.

It’s been a helluva few days. Fresh off escaping a drow hunting party, y’all ran into a group of duergar slavers working a bunch of gnomes half to death to free some Absolute cultist piece of shit. They’re all dead, now. Between them gnomes, the cave buffalo, and all y’all, you’re pretty sure every slaver got ganked.

Astarion…

He really does not fucking care about other people. Not even people in a position a lot like his own. You met others like that. You were others like that for a while. But when he made that “joke” (cause it ain’t never actually a joke) about “motivating the staff” (and by that he meant “torturing defenseless people”) you cold-shouldered him. Hard.

He’s been slinking around your peripherals ever since.

You wipe the sweat from your face as best you can. Which mostly means smearing it around.

It ain’t right to let him carry on like that and treat it like it’s fine. It ain’t. And you’re pretty sure he knows that—you try hard not to think of him as a dog tiptoeing around after getting yelled at. Especially since this dog seems way more used to kicks than words. But you ain’t sure what you should do about it. If you should. Because…you care about the stupid shit. And then you think you shouldn’t because the man has screaming red flags. But…but so did you. When Sasha first tried to talk to you, you went full, flaming Testimony on her.

But she didn’t give up. She saw something in you. The part you would later find in the root cellar, covered in sticky pear juice, staring down at a piece of shattered glass. All the talk you ever heard—the books, the podcasts, anything you could listen to before it got too much and your chest got too tight to breathe and you was right back there again—says that bringing people outta shit like that is work. It takes time. Patience.

If it can be done. If the person ain’t too far gone.

If your sorry ass can possibly navigate the fucking minefield you’re starting to realize that man is.

Fuck.

At least y’all found explosives. Lots of them. Including a giant fucking barrel of something called “rune powder” that y’all sorta stole that made all them other gnomes real fucking nervous about. You’re gonna find whatever controls the cult and the fucking brainworms, and you’re gonna paint ���fuck you” on the side of that barrel before you have Karlach—or Lae’zel, actually—chuck it right at their face. There’s an easy answer for one of your problems (ninety-nine problems and that man is one).

The rest of the group is run fucking ragged right now. Between all the murder and the coups y’all have initiated, between the fight with that murderfuck Absolutist and the giant fuck off robot at the forge, y’all can probably sleep for a collective week.

Astarion is still watching you.

Shadowheart raises an eyebrow for you to catch. Turns out stepping off a boat with your neck fucking purpled from hickeys tends to tip off everybody that you was fooling around with that goblin of a vampire man. Elf. Shithead.

You look away.

You just don’t know. He kissed you and you liked it. You liked the whole fingerbanging, too. Like, a lot. Then he ain’t letting you talk to him about it, then suggested you two do it again, then goes off to be a fuckhead racist and then y’all almost got squashed by the iron giant.

And now he’s sidling up to you just as you’re starting to savor the suggestion of cooler air on your skin.

“Hello, darling,” he says.

Okay, fine, he’s stupid handsome. You actually see it now, despite the granny hair (fine, it adds to his “bisexually hot” vibes). Now he’s all sweaty, and that’s gross, but the gross part of your brain fucking perks up anyway.

“Hi, Astarion,” you say.

The elevator rattles and clanks around you. Y’all are lifting up through a shaft cut so smooth, you’d think it had to be made with either water, or modern Earth drilling equipment.

Probably fucking magic. Fucking Middle Narnia.

The magma glow has receded, and now the only light comes from Karlach’s thrumming hellfire heart engine and the tiny flames dancing through her hair and on the tips of her nails. And from Shadowheart’s glowing face-smashing mace that Astarion stole, which then obliterated a whole ass Githyanki creche.

It’s enough to give the illusion of privacy.

“You know, I can’t help but feel we’ve grown somewhat…distant, the last few days,” Astarion says.

“We been kinda busy,” you say.

He hums. Shifts beside you. Then he leans in, his breath cool as it tickles the hairs on your neck. “We never did find an answer to my question, either.”

You know damn well what he’s talking about. Sidling up next to you in that dead temple. Leaning in as he’s doing now, his scent washing over you, voice low and silky in your ear when he asked “your tent or mine.”

“Huh,” you say. Like a smart person.

You got no idea what you’re doing. No idea what you should be doing. You are stumbling around in an unfamiliar, pitch-black room, half drunk, tits swinging, banging into every goddamn piece of furniture in there.

“So,” Astarion says. Leans so close he could kiss your cheek if he moved another inch.

Seems he wants that answer.

What are y’all? What is this? A one-time fling after surviving some bullshit? Stress relief? A new hobby?

You ain’t never done this before. Certainly not with someone like him. Don’t know the rules. You…you’re scared. If you ask him, if you question this or press him for any of the thoughts in your head, he’ll spook.

And deep down (maybe not so deep), you’re a greedy little shit yourself. A whole childhood denied things like cellphones and internet, like steady meals and safety and any kind of privacy and not getting publicly switched in your underwear. And then coming out of that and the group homes, the food stamps, the public health insurance and barely scraping by until so, so recently.

When you got kidnapped by a squidward alien and dropped without so much as a stitch of clothing (but with a fucking dildo, jesus) into another dimension.

You want something nice. Just for once. Just without having to think about the shoulds or should-nots. The morals and the risk and being able to fucking afford it.

This is a terrible fucking idea. Maybe you really are a weak piece of shit. Because you turn to look at him. In the dim glow of y’all’s companions, his eyes reflect a predator’s shine: two copper pennies glowing in the gloom.

You gotta figure all this shit out. Sort the mess in your head. Maybe after y’all find this cult shit and throw a bomb at it and the brainworms is gone.

Astarion is a bitch and an asshole. He makes you laugh. He stabbed a man like eight times for you, and goddamnit, kissing him feels like it paints your skin in electricity.

God ain’t real and neither is sin. And if sin ain’t real, then there’s no reason to feel shame or guilt about engaging in consensual tomfoolery.

Right?

You clear your throat. “We can, uh. Mine. I guess.”

Jesus.

His fangs is shockingly white when he grins. He brushes the tip of his nose against your cheek. “Excellent. I can’t wait.”

“Aww,” Karlach coos.

Right as Shadowheart says, “Do try to remember we can all hear you.”

You jerk away so fast you almost trip right off the edge of the magic fucking elevator. Which they all saw, and which makes you consider hurling yourself off on purpose just so you don’t have to deal with any of this.

Until a faint sound bounces down the shaft at y’all.

Shadowheart lifts her face. Squints. “Is that a dog?”

[punk-pangolins]

current mood: DM stressing over the campaign too hard

FUCK

[theonewhowails]

Golden Fleece

[devilith]

crazy how this unhinged rant manages to not only be objectively wrong, but also somehow queerphobic and misogynistic all at the same time. wild

mc is NOT a "total pushover" there are many many cases where you get to directly call out the brothers bullshit to their faces. the characters DO apologize for shit, just not at every single opportunity for every single slight up to your personal expectations. its almost like they are flawed characters. its almost like theyre DEMONS. its almost like them not being wholesome, pure, untrained, and virtuous is literally the entire fucking point

obey me has never been "aimed at women" and the players pronouns have ALWAYS been they/them in the game from day fucking one. no idea why youre lying about "getting to change mcs pronouns later on" because that has literally never been a thing, not ever. the people who made the game have explicitly said that they made the decision to have a genderless protagonist early on in development and that inclusivity was their main goal. the only reason obey me gets classified as an otome game is because the love interests are all men. the player is not not supposed to be a woman and the game has been intentionally, deliberately aimed at men, enbies, and queer people in general since before it even came out. shut the fuck up about this "ultimate female fantasy" about men groveling because youre talking out of your ass. thats some radfem terf shit and you have no fucking idea what youre talking about

"ooohhhh the world is full of nasty evil male cruelty, and the pure angelic afab girls are desperate to have their suffering eased by anime characters prostrating themselves" this is actually so hilariously bad i dont even know where to start. shut the entire fuck up forever

women are not pure, wholesome, simpering angels and men are not ontologically evil monsters. shove your disgusting bioessentialist and genderessentialist radfem terf shit up your ass. afab ≠ women, and dont fucking erase and speak over obey mes VAST audience of men, trans folk, enbies, queers, etc

the obey me characters HAVE growth and development, youre just too fucking stupid to read the words that the game puts in front of your face

the reason why "theyre demons" is an irrefutable argument that you cant counter is because THEY ARE LITERALLY FUCKING DEMONS and their flawed negative character aspects ARE THE ENTIRE FUCKING POINT. you cant just disregard the fact that theyre demons as if thats just a piece of bad writing, ITS LITERALLY THE ENTIRE POINT OF THE FUCKING GAME. theyre SUPPOSED to shitty, bad people. if that doesnt please your delicate sensibilities then play a different game

"oh, those poor stupid afab women are too corrupted by the fictional anime demons. obviously theyre just coping because they dont know whats good for them and theyre too dumb to understand the themes of an anime mobile game. those helpless, incapable girls need me to be their divine savior and tell them whats actually good for them, otherwise theyd never even know what they REALLY want. they need me, a misogynistic radfem, to utterly police their every thought for their own good"

you should be fucking ashamed and embarrassed

stop writing fucking call out posts for fictional anime characters as if theyre real fucking people causing harm in the real world. this is the most egotistical, performative bullshit just for you to play moral police over how random strangers play a god damn mobile game. you are a fucking joke

I think why we all feel unsatisfied with Obey Me is honestly just the lack of accountability or closure on ANY conflict. The characters are never really held responsible for any of the shit they do to MC, MC is a total pushover who endlessly forgives them, and we never, NEVER get a single apology.

It doesn't matter how suave or romantic they make any of the boys: the most vital requirement of any romance aimed at women (because OM was originally written for a female protag even if they let you change pronouns later) is The Grovel. The ultimate female fantasy is accountability.

In a world awash with male cruelty in our daily lives, what so many AFAB players ache for in romance media is just an apology, an honest to god admittance of "I hurt you. I'm sorry."

The most beautiful phrasing of the Grovel Trope I've ever seen is this post:

--and it's the mark that Obey Me just fails to hit over and over. Real growth means accountability and there is none.

What I see behind every "well thEy're dEmoNs" and "if they were NiCE wouldn't it be boRiNG?!?" is a lot of AFAB people learning to cope with never getting the real satisfaction they crave.

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Well, at least Fukuzawa got his wish granted, I guess.... he's finally inside Fukuchi <3

[messenger-of-stupidity]

It's midnight and I have a test today.

But I can't sleep dude. This is so fucking stressful

Edit: if you could vote and you didn't, fuck you. Eat shit. I hope both sides of your pillow are warm and your charger doesn't work. You're part of the fucking problem.

[dittobooty]

You really gonna make me watch Ace die then give me this cute image of Usopp and Sanji to try to appease my wrath, Oda? I'm still mad but I'm gonna take it anyways

[shima-draws]

Perona and Zoro are so sibling core...

[fully-caulked-wagon]

Tried some lineartless shit for once uhh

[moongothic]

Absolute hate how all Oda has to do is make one (1) fictional man with pretty hair to give me raging gender envy

Like this was so unnecessary and cruel, towards me specifically

[starlight---starbrights]

Undertale yellow flowey embroidery

This took about 40 hours, give or take a few

[naughtynanzhu]

I need to finish my nanqiu fic

[demobatman]

going back to my roots but if i have to read another post talking about how robin and eddie wouldnt be friends/it would be hard for them to be friends im going to scream those two fucking terrorize steve harrington and are gay married. he knows her. from BAND.

[ronanlynchbf]

and then an overwhelming sense of dread apear.

[love-songs-for-emma]

am i going to single-handedly create a fandom about jay holt from the video game "as dusk falls"? i just fuckin might