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transformersandturtles · 19 hours ago

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Couldn't find any of this SO I WROTE MY OWN FOR A ONE SHOT‼️ I will write more but I thought this would be good for now‼️ I'm really sorry if this seems out of character for either of them, I've never written anything for them before. 🥲

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CW - Swearing, reference to explicit content, possible spelling errors (non reviewed)

Word Count - 2,017 words (10,995 characters)

𝑳𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝑮𝒐 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈!

"Wade, is there anything you need from the store?" The gruff voice of Logan Howlett grumbled from the kitchen table, reading glasses resting on his nose as he held a small notepad and pen. He'd asked Al earlier if she needed anything, that wasn't illegal substances he had no way of getting his hands on, so now it was just a matter of asking his partner, who had just gotten back from walking Mary Puppins. He tapped the closed pen on the wooden surface, peering over the ridge of the glasses Laura made him wear. Who knew it was easier to read with glasses? He'd have to get something to thank her next time she came by.

"Oh! You're going shopping! Ooh, let's see!" Wade had quite the grin on his expression, taking off the harness and leash from the ever loving Dogpool, who he totally didn't get the owner of murdered so he could take her, and he picked her up, letting her lick his face as she was coddled like a baby in his arms. "We need more dog food," he spoke as he waltzed over to Logan, his hood falling down as he did so, "and more milk. Maybe some more eggs, and a pack of XL-" before he could finish, he felt something sharp poke at his throat.

"All that's on the list, except that last one. YOU can get that on your own time." The old Canadian scoffed a bit, not exactly in the mood to entertain Wade's thoughts. But he couldn't hold back a small grin when the other Canadian whined at the threat.

"Whaaaaaat? But Honey Badger, I can't go alone. They'd look at me weird." He protested, trying to be dramatic all for the sake of being dramatic.

"Uh huh, sure bub. . ." Logan put his claws away, grabbing the napkin off the table by his empty plate to wipe the blood away as the spot between his knuckles healed quickly. "So, there's milk, eggs, toilet paper, new beddings, steak, vegetables, beer. . ." He mumbled, setting the notepad down to write a few more things that came to mind. Wade set down Mary Puppins and he leaned over Logan's shoulder to figure out what other things were added. Toothpaste, mouthwash. . .

"Oh absolutely not." Wade reached for the pen to scratch out the body spray. "No way in HELL are you gonna buy Axe. Are you TRYING to smell like a skunk? Your musk is enough to make a room full of E-Sports players sick!"

". . . The fuck is E-Sports?" Logan wasn't sure if he should be insulted, confused, or both. But he wasn't too happy about the comment either way. "Also what the fuck is wrong with Axe? It's cheap and smells fine." He scoffed a bit. "I'm not trying to spend over $100 to smell good." He took off the metal framed glasses and placed them on the collar of his T-shirt under the teal-blue flannel.

"And I'm not saying you need to spend $100 to smell good, I for one think you smell amazing. Gets the body goin'. . ." Wade gave a cheeky grin with a chuckle, looking Logan up and down for a moment before looking back at the list. "But Axe is the worst one to use. If you want something to smell decent for work, I'd recommend Old Spice at the very least. Sure, the smell names are weird as fuck, but that comes with all male hygiene products. Women get all the sweet and nice sounding scents like peach vanilla or sunset cinnamon. . . Meanwhile we get stuff like Pine Jizz or Whales Fucking or-"

"Shut the fuck up, Wade. . . . Just shut up. . ." Logan let out a groan of annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. Wade had a grin on his face, laughing a little at how Logan told him to stop talking.

"I'm just saying, Peanut, if you get Axe then you're sleeping on the couch or out in the hallway." Wade warned, before leaning in to kiss Logan on the cheek. "I'll go get ready." He hummed, and left to the bedroom to change out of his sweatpants and hoodie.

"Yeah, yeah. . ." Logan mumbled in annoyance, putting his hand to his cheek to hide the light blush across his face. He huffed and stood up, stretching as his joints popped and cracked, from his lower back to his legs and neck. He popped his jaw a bit, before going to the coat rack to grab his brown leather jacket he got for a fairly good price last week. It was nice, not too tight but not too lose, and had some decent pockets. Perfect for carrying booze. . . Or other stuff he didn't want to pay for, maybe. He was THE Wolverine, and taxes were too expensive sometimes. Who was gonna throw him in jail if he shoplifted? No one, that's who. He adjusted the collar of the leather jacket, getting it how he wanted before stopping when he heard the bedroom door open. He looked at Wade, and stared at him almost dumbfounded. "You are NOT going out like that. . ."

"Why not, Peanut? You always like it when I dress this way." Wade teased, he wasn't serious about wearing the outfit in public, but he wanted a good reaction out of Logan. Besides, the outfit was pretty comfortable but no way in hell was he having enough confidence to show off his unicorn crop top and short-shorts. He didn't mind wearing it when he was having his great days; where he was overly confident and eager to show off his body despite the scarring. But today wasn't one of those days, especially since it was getting cooler as Autumn was coming in after what felt like eons of Summer. Wade did notice how Logan's complexion had turned a few shades of a deep red while looking, which also made Wade's cheeks turn a soft pink.

"Alright, alright, hurry up then. . ." Logan sighed softly, not even making a comment or retort to what was said because Wade was right. Logan crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Wade but was surprised when the bedroom door closed again and he frowned. Did he say the wrong thing? Did he upset Wade? The mutant stood quietly but worriedly, his nose twitching a bit as he sniffed the air, trying to figure out if Wade was upset or not. It was hard to tell, so he stepped closer to the door. There didn't seem to be any low serotonin levels, they seemed about as normal as they could be for Wade. His nose continued twitching as he kept sniffing past the door, still trying to figure out if he upset his boyfriend or not, his ears twitching a little as well as he listened carefully. Before he could figure it out past the smell of everything else on the other side of the door, he was met once again with the face of Wade who seemed surprised at how close Logan was to the door. But that surprise soon turned to playful, mischievous grin.

"Aww, was someone worried about me?" He teased, wrapping an arm around Logan and leaning in to rub his nose against Logan's cheek. The gruff man scoffed with a growl, not out of hostility but annoyance, as he bit Wade's cheek with his big canines.

"Like hell I'd worry about you, dumbass. . ." Logan grumbled, moving away from Wade but didn't move too far so they could at least hold hands. "Let's go. . ." He sighed heavily, taking Wade's hand and going to the door to get their shoes on as Logan grabbed the keys to the apartment and put them in the pocket of his leather jacket with the notepad.

At the store, Logan had to keep holding Wade's hand so the younger wouldn't run off, who knows what that undiagnosed dork would go find and beg to have. Logan had his glasses back on as he looked down at the list in his hand. He had a specific order to get everything in, and if he had to deviate from that plan he might just lose it. Wade was very aware of his boyfriend's thoughts and methods, and honestly he didn't mind holding hands and walking with Logan, though he did stop a few times to look at something that caught his attention.

"We really gotta get you an appointment. . ." Logan mumbled as he gently tugged Wade along so they could keep shopping to get everything on the list. He headed over to the produce section, his hazel eyes gazing over the different fruits and veggies, letting go of Wade's hand for just a moment so he could find the perfect vegetables to cook for dinner. He'd started learning how to cook lately and had a nice dinner planned, so he made sure that the ingredients would be edible and not rotten inside or anything of the sort. He grabbed some potatoes, a few peppers, and for something sweet as a snack for later he grabbed some apples, a grapefruit, and a cantaloupe though it was slowly coming out of season and probably wouldn't taste as good as it does in the summer but he didn't care. He goes to check the ingredients off the list and turns to hold Wade's hand again, only to find the other Canadian had vanished. "Great. . ." Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before grabbing the shopping cart and continued with his shopping, knowing he'd find Wade eventually, tracking his scent wasn't that difficult due to the constantly dying and regenerating cells, along with the citrus-pine smell he had. His ears and nose twitched every so often as he leaned his elbows against the cart to push it, walking around and glancing around as he got cheese, milk, eggs, and some other things in the aisle, a gruff and raspy hum vibrating in his chest as he tapped his sharp nails against the metal bar of the cart while listening to the music playing through the store. It was crappy compared to what he liked, some hit pop song the youth enjoyed, but damnit was it catchy in the kind of way that it was really annoying but kinda good. He whistled a little, getting everything on the shopping list and went to the aisle full of booze before an announcement rang over the store's system.

"Logan Howlett, please come to the front. Your child is waiting." A bored teen girl sounded over, the tone of her voice a mix of boredom, with a hint that screamed she did not get paid enough to watch over someone or help. Logan raised a brow at this, confused. Laura wasn't here, was she? But then it clicked, and he groaned slightly with some annoyance. He grabbed two packs of the good beer and headed to the front, finding Wade near a desk who seemed happy and relieved once Logan arrived.

"Honey Badger! I was so worried you left without me!" Wade nearly tackled the older man the moment he could, and Logan grunted, a bit startled.

"You're the one who ran off, idiot. . ." Logan scoffed, glaring at Wade before looking down at the soft thing between them. "Wade. . . What the hell is that?" He frowned. Wade looked down, and a big grin was plastered on his face.

"Pompompurin! He'd be great to sit with Hello Kitty and Cinnamoroll!" He beamed, excited even as he held the large dog plush. Logan wanted to say no, to make him put it back, because who knows how much money that thing cost, but the longer he saw those big eyes, Logan eventually let out a groan of defeat.

"Fine. . . But you're payin' for it, bub. . ." Logan patted Wade on the shoulder, before taking him and the cart to the self checkout aisle so he could scan everything himself. Logan didn't like strangers touching stuff sometimes.

"Fine by me!" Wade grinned, watching Logan scan everything and he snorted a bit, amused by his odd yet loving boyfriend.

#seven’s nonsense #seven's drabbles #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #deadclaws #poolverine fanfiction #deadpool #wolverine #logan howlett wolverine #wade wilson deadpool #dogpool mention #xmen #deadpool 3 #d&w #Deadpool & Wolverine #deadclaws fanfiction

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sgt-tombstone · 2 days ago

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y’all don’t mind if I ramble about a fic idea that’s been knocking around in my head for a while but will never get written, do you?

cool

it’s a grumpy-and-sunshine-professor AU where Simon is a history professor studying the history of death and Johnny is a professor of chemistry studying pyrotechnics. They both have fierce reputations within their departments; Johnny for being a lenient grader and an excellent teacher, and Simon for being a complete hardass

They’re secretly married to each other, but no one ever takes classes with both of them, so there hasn’t ever been a student that has found out. Johnny talks about his husband constantly, never by name, but his computer background is a picture of two unmistakably masculine hands with matching rings, obviously a wedding photo, and he usually starts class with a little story about something funny that his husband did the day/night before. It’s well-known that his husband is blond, massive, and an utter sweetheart. They obviously adore each other, if the weekend date stories that he tells are any indication (always innocent, of course)

Simon, on the other hand, never talks about his personal life at all. He starts class on the dot, getting straight to the point without any fanfare or chitchat. He’s a man of few words, and he uses them well and efficiently. He wears a ring on a necklace, and it sometimes slips out of his shirt during lecture, but no one dares ask (stories are told of the one student who did, and got a glare so acidic that he had dropped the class on the spot)

Then along comes (insert OC’s name here), who is a biology student focusing on infectious diseases. Johnny is her advisor and she adores him (not in that way, she’s a lesbian and he’s obviously besotted with his husband). She had him for her introductory chemistry classes and he was the only reason she passed; she’s trusted his judgment and advice implicitly ever since. So when she asks what class she should take for her required history elective, he recommends a class called The History and Impacts of the Black Death, and it sounds right up her alley but the professor listed gives her pause. She’s heard of Dr. Riley, of course; nearly everyone on campus has heard the stories of traumatized history majors avoiding Dr. Riley’s classes (ironically) like the plague. But she trusts Dr. MacTavish, so she registers anyway.

The class is tough. In her opinion, it’s way too difficult for an elective class, especially on top of her other upper level science classes, but she hasn’t gotten this far without knowing how to step up to a challenge, and Dr. Riley’s scathing feedback on her first assignment has her digging her heels in instead of throwing in the towel. The topic is interesting; she’d never really looked into the history of infectious diseases, and the Black Death is morbidly fascinating. She struggles a bit with the historical aspects of the class at first, especially when Dr. Riley expects his students to already have a firm grasp on Medieval history and she very much does not, but she’ll never pass up an opportunity to do some external research to catch up to where the rest of the class—populated mostly by history majors—is in their studies.

Towards the end of the semester, close to the end of November, the student’s mother finds out about her girlfriend and kicks her out late at night. With nowhere else to go, she remembers that Dr. MacTavish is both openly gay and has invited groups of students to his house for club meetings and field trips. It’s a little awkward, but she doesn’t have anywhere else to go, so she walks to his house in the rain. When she knocks on the door, Dr. MacTavish answers with clear concern, and he waves her inside quickly. She explains her situation, panicking about the entire thing because she’s standing in her advisor’s house at 10pm, her parents have just cut her off, and she’s scared and wet. Dr. MacTavish calls into the other room, presumably to his husband, asking for a towel.

The last person she expects to round the corner is Dr. Riley, holding a fluffy towel and an expression equally as concerned as Dr. MacTavish’s. His husband.

She has to sit down.

They sit and talk as she dries off and warms up. Johnny makes her a cup of hot chocolate while Dr. Riley—Simon—builds a fire in the fireplace. She huddles close to it as they talk, and she eventually ekes the story out of them; how they met, how they hated each other at first, how they fell in love. Simon is talkative and animated, drawing energy from the man sitting beside him, and the student finds herself enchanted by the two of them, the side of her professors that she never gets to see. It should feel like a breach of privacy, a line crossed, but it feels like staying up late with her uncles. They make up the guest bedroom for her and all go to bed, reminded that they all have class tomorrow.

The student ends up staying with some friends, couch-surfing in their apartment until she can get her feet back under her, but she spends several nights a week at the Riley-MacTavish household, delving into the intricacies of infectious diseases and their connection to society with Simon. She enjoys the friendly arguments the two professors get into and often chooses sides arbitrarily to keep them on their toes. She switches her advisor from Johnny to Simon (Johnny pretends to be upset, but he’s secretly overjoyed that Simon is connecting so well with a student), and ends up writing a thesis paper under his tutelage.

Idk how it’s gonna end yet, maybe with a far future scene where she sees the two of them at a conference and throws herself at them, wrapping them both in massive hugs. It earns her several very odd stares, especially from those who know Dr. Riley’s reputation, but she doesn’t care. They were there for her in the darkest night of her life, and she’ll always have a soft spot for both of them

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #fic idea #tombstone's epitaphs

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lizzybeeee · 3 days ago

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DATV Spoilers - The Handling of Previous Story/Lore In DATV

Quick PSA: If you’ve read my post on the lore/story threads dropped – it’s not a list of what I expected or even wanted to see addressed/answered in DATV.

It’s pretty much a given that Kieran and the Architect were never going to come back in any meaningful way, I understand that. Questions about what happened to Anora, Anders, Cullen’s clinic etc...never expected to get an answer about them – at all. The line of succession in Ferelden and Orlais? I expected that sometime down the line it would have to be streamlined into one option for both nations, not a problem – there’s so many choices it’s impossible to account for, and I understand that.

A codex entry or letter would have been nice – but my expectations for DATV was solely for a good story that added to the lore and world of Thedas. Instead, it felt entirely reductive – glaringly so when you account for the ‘Executives’ twist. The slavery in Tevinter is non-existent, the Crows being an organization that indoctrinated children is never touched upon, any mystery of ancient Tevinter and the elves is answered (badly!), the Dalish have effectively disappeared and become the Veil Jumpers...it all feels so hollow, so shallow, that I ever cared about these things in the first place.

There’s no DLC planned – the team is working on Mass Effect 5 now. There’s no conclusion to the fate of the south of Thedas outside of two codex entries and some dialogue. They can patch the Executors cutscene out, maybe - perhaps they could even do the same to anything relating to the south of Thedas. Yes, these areas were not completely destroyed by the Blight – they can rebuild – but it comes across as being so meaningless that I ever cared for these places in the first place. To learn that after ten years of waiting all we cared for get devastated and left in limbo...it’s hard to put into words the bitterness I felt at that realization, and seeing that final cut-scene drove the nail into the coffin of how foolish I felt for even caring in the first place.

The issue is that the dev’s gave us only three choices, told us that as the story was contained to the north of Thedas – that our other choices weren’t relevant to the rest of the game – that their intent was to not effect anyone's head-canons...before doing so with ‘the blight has devastated most of everywhere you went previously’.

These were story/plot threads that were woven throughout the narrative of the first three games – the things that made me care and become invested in the world of Thedas to begin with. In a game that was set-up to be a direct sequel to Inquisition and Trespasser I hoped that, at least, what was brought up in Inquisition would be mentioned.

Perhaps my list is a little too detailed with plot threads and issues – if anything that can be attributed to the incredible world-building done in the first three games! I love those games, I love the world of Thedas...which is why this game utterly baffles me with its choices.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a good game but not a good Dragon Age game.

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Edit: DATV absolutely has a lot of problems outside of its handling of the lore and story of the previous games. I would not say its a good rpg in any sense, but as a weird 'action-adventure rpg lite' game I did have some fun moments and enjoy myself. Would I recommend it to anyone? Absolutely not.

I heard someone describe it as a 'junk food' game and I very much agree with that statement. I found enjoyment in it, but to do so I usually had to turn off my brain, which is not a compliment towards DATV.

The game released very well optimized (especially considering how most companies are content to release half-baked games and patch them later) and did create some really interesting visual set-pieces like the Battle of Weisshaupt. But those moments I enjoyed were few and far between, and far overwhelmed by the negatives of the game - such as story, lack of conversation/conflict/role-play options, bad character writing etc...

Calling the game 'good' is, perhaps, a stretch, and I totally get that. Calling it 'mediocre with some good parts' may be more accurate.

#if anything take my list as a love letter to these games!#incredible world-building and lore #incredible characters!#each game has its strengths and faults but I love them all the same <3 #the amount of character sheets / lore threads I have devoured is absurd haha #lmao magical illuminati were certainly a choice #dragon age #datv spoilers #dragon age the veilguard #datv critical #bioware critical #edited a keep reading in! sorry it was so long lol #edited the title to make sure that people know there are spoilers to the game under the cut of my post #final edit to clarify that my definition of a 'good' game is absolutely messed up thanks to other games I've played lmao

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queerliblib · 3 hours ago

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I'm from the USA and am trying to take hope and inspiration from our queer predecessors who faced dark times in the past. How did they keep going even when it felt like the world was ending?

Do you have any recommendations for queer historical essays, poems, books, anything to find comfort and hope for these dark times?

I've been asking this question to a few different blogs in hopes of collecting a good long list. (Just in case you see this question again)

hi there. yeah we’ve got a few collections in our library I can point out. while only members of our library (sign up here) can check the books out, any & everyone can browse the lists from our Libby I’ve linked below <3

first up, not necessarily historical but we’ve got a Words for Resilience, Community Care, & Survival list up right now.

then in our Pride guide, there’s several more: Pride was a Riot: legacies of protest & resistance, and We Have Always Been Here which digs more into our historical presence

(you mentioned poetry specifically as well, you can browse all our queer poetry here)

love & solidarity! 🌈

#queer liberation library #qll #asks #<3 #libby

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markrosewater · 1 day ago

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Hi Mark,

My name is Isaac Holguin. I sent a detailed email regarding your work on the color pie over the years to [email protected]. I hope that is the correct avenue to reach out to you. I had the pleasure of being answered on this blog as well, so I thought I'd double check by contacting you here. In case the email listed isn't in service anymore, I've copied my message below. I hope this reaches you and that you're doing well. If you're able, I'd love to hear back at [email protected]. Thanks for all you do!

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Hello Mr. Rosewater,

My name is Isaac Holguin and I'm a nurse studying leadership and education in Tucson, Arizona. Before I get into the topic of my email, I'd just like to say thank you for being a spokesperson for Magic the Gathering all these years! I've played the game since I was thirteen years old, all through college, and well into my career. Magic the Gathering has helped me make new friends and deepen bonds with people I already had in my life. Though I've stopped participating in recent years, the game will always hold a special place in my heart and I've still got an Alpha Serra Angel that is as old as I am!

One of the best memories I have from my time with Magic was diving into the color wheel breakdown series from your "Drive to Work" podcast. During my pursuit of a Bachelors in Nursing Science, I often cited the color wheel as a tool to determine personality traits and compared it to other topics in my studies. Now that I'm pursuing my Master's degree in Nursing Education, I'm interested to see if there were any references or inspirations for the development of the color pie. With the recent popularity of the Myers-Briggs assessment (16 Personalities), Ten Faces of Innovation, and other similar tools I'd like to try and adapt the color pie as a leadership/personality assessment. I understand there will be multiple steps involved to publish such a study with respect to Hasbro and Magic the Gathering as a company, but I would like to attempt to lay the foundation of this project during my studies.

The goal of this project would be to introduce an existing, incredible, fun, and easy to use tool to a vast new audience. Helping others acknowledge that all aspects of the personalities presented exist within them to some degree and can evolve over time has become a core belief for me both personally and professionally. Examples of "your greatest weakness is your greatest strength pushed too far" and the idea that the capacity for good and evil exists in any aspect of a personality are incredible insights that I haven't seen cited enough throughout my studies. My wildest hope is that this tool would be utilized in coursework for multiple professions, similar to the curriculum I'm studying now, to help future leaders reflect on their strengths and develop effective leadership styles.

In short, I hope that you're doing well and would love to hear your insights, recommendations, and references for the work you've so passionately brought to thousands of others of the years. Even if you're unable to share certain aspects of your work, I'd like you to know that your endeavors have not only brought relief and happiness to healthcare workers like me, but that you've inspired so many others to apply the lessons of fictional works to improve our reality. The lessons gained from my long history with this franchise have helped me connect to others in their most vulnerable moments, and improve their quality of life. Thank you for all that you've done, and I wish you continued success in a field you've already become an exemplary expert in.

Sincerely,

Isaac Holguin

BSN, RN

I’m always excited to hear about ways people can use the color pie outside the context of the game. I’m not sure what I can do to help you.

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 2 days ago

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A heart that hurts is a heart that works - Something Rotten sequel.

first part can be read here

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x afab!reader x Dark!Tess Servopoulos

Words count: 3829

Rating: Mature, absolutely NSFW and again, this shit is triggering. Please, read the tags carefully and if you're a minor don’t interact.

Tags/warning: This happens the morning immediately after the events of Something Rotten, pov second person, no use of y/n, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, heavy degradation, angst, smut, DUB CON/NON CON, reader is barely described, she has breasts and vagina, no mention of her skin tone, she doesn’t blush, she has hair but it’s not described, it is mentioned that Joel's clothes are too big for her (pics are just for aesthetic and don’t represent reader), the only thing is that reader's father died of lung cancer (like mine), depressive thoughts, as said in the first part: reader is held prisoner by Joel and Tess, on her leg is carved the word “pet” (Tess did it), use of a knife, groping, a large amount of bites, mention of wounds, mention of bruises, no kindness whatsoever towards reader, Joel and Tess are both EVIL, fingering (Tess receiving), oral (Tess receiving) spitting, nipples sucking and biting (it's not my ff if there is no attention towards nipples OKAY), unprotected p in v (both f receiving, wrap it up IRL), pussy slapping, cum eating, Joel comes on reader’s face, pissing, a little more scissoring, a little bit of chocking, squirting, brief insert of reader's thoughts in italics… I think it’s all 😅 If I notice I've forgotten something important I'll add it right away.

A/N: Title comes from a Placebo song called Bright Lights. It seemed right to continue with them since "Something Rotten" is also one of their songs. Anyway, I leave you the entire playlist that I listened to while I was writing both this and the first part and again thank you very much to those who recommended songs to me ♥️

There is something of my experience and pain in this so please be particularly kind. English is not my first language and I have no beta, I apologize for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy it, thank you so much to anyone who reads it.

[I started a tag list, if you want to be added let me know, I never tag people because I don't want to impose anything on anyone but if you like it I'm happy too ♥️ ]

Your mind is completely clouded. You open your eyes and for a moment you don’t remember where you are, you rub your eyes, feeling your aching body awaken, the pain of every joint coming back to you. You reach out and press a spot on your stiff neck, a stab of pain shooting up your brain like a gunshot and then sliding down your spine, making you grit your teeth to stifle a moan.

You shut your eyes as images of what happened flash before your eyes, a piercing pain taking over your head.

You don’t know how much time has passed but when you manage to sit up, biting the pain between your lips, you see a bright light coming in through the dirty window, a speck of dust stirring in the beam of light that illuminates the messy bed, the crumpled sheets and the two people lying on it. Tess is on her side, her arms folded, her hands resting on the pillow, near her head. There is always a kind of tension in her, you see it even when she is sleeping, in her huddled body that seems ready to attack and unleash its claws on anyone. She is wearing nothing but panties and Joel’s shirt left open, revealing the outline of her breasts.

She should disgust you, but instead as soon as you see one of her nipples poking out from under her shirt salive pools into your mouth. You put a hand to your forehead, overwhelmed by yourself, by what you feel and by a shame that creeps up inside you and makes your temples throb.

This is so wrong. Yet you would like to lace your lips on that little button and suck it, if only she would let you do it, if only she would let you lie next to her gently, allowing you to be the good pet she expects you to be.

Shifting your gaze to Joel doesn't help soothe your twisted mind. He’s on the other side, lying on his back, in his boxers, your eyes wander on the defined muscles on his chest, the softness of his belly, and a strip of sunlight hitting his abdomen highlighting hair leading to his groin.

He seems carved out of a block of marble, skimmed by scars, exuding power and sex, the tips of your fingers graze your swollen lips and you still feel his taste, the weight of his cock on your tongue, his relentless thrusts, his hungry eyes on you.

They must have fallen asleep, which gave you some respite even if you don’t feel rested at all.

You look at your thigh and it's still there, the pulsing sign that you should leave, just run while you can, sneak out of this place quietly and look for somewhere to hide. But you feel like a mouse in a cage, your body not moving an inch. You’re still untied; it would take nothing to reach the door and close it behind you. But what if they woke up? If they felt the bed lighten with your weight? You know they'd have you back in an instant.

Your brain, you can't decide whether very stupidly or very wisely, thinks that it is better not to make any risky moves to stay alive.

Helpless and desperate you lie back on the bed staring at the ceiling, the silence broken only by Joel's soft snoring.

Your arms spread across the bed as you sink into your thoughts and your fingers casually graze the knife abandoned on the sheets. The coldness of the blade sends a chill down your spine.

You have to do something for yourself. At least try. You cannot be so spineless. You move one leg off the bed, your eyes fixed on your captors, seeming not to notice anything so you move the other leg as well, letting yourself slide cautiously along the edge of the bed, finally resting both feet on the floor. You pick up the closest garment you can find on the ground, it's a Joel T-shirt, wide and long enough to cover your butt. You just have to get up, you can do it. Leaning your weight on your legs feeling your knees crack in the effort, you wonder what in your body is not sore. You are on your feet. Joel and Tess are motionless in the same position as before. You walk on the floor resting your toe and then your heel, silent and terrified like a prey trying to evade before falling into the lion's jaws, hoping that the wood will not creak under your gait. You reach for the door. You almost make it. Just rest your hand on the handle and lower it. A moment and you're out of here. As soon as your hand touches the cold metal you hear a voice behind you, “Where do you think you're going?”

You feel your heart falling out of your chest, freezing where you are, your eyes at the door, your breath getting heavy.

“Turn around”

You do it slowly, praying you don't feel a blow immediately afterward. Joel is standing in front of you. “Please” your voice is a barely audible whisper ”please.”

Joel reaches out, grabs you by the wrist “no fucking way”

He doesn't add anything more, he takes you back to the bed, forcibly lays you down and lies on top of you. His eyes look at you fiercely, he drops down next to your ear “maybe I was wrong about you, you're not the good pet I thought you were. Let me teach you your priorities straight“ he growls, his voice low, sharp.

His body weighs down on you, completely overpowering you, his legs blocking yours, his hands resting on the sheets on either side of your face.

"I give you credit for that. You were brave to think you could sneak away. But also incredibly stupid." His voice vibrates close to your ear, it is eerily calm and controlled, sounding as if it came from the darkest part of him, straight from his gut.

A lump rises from the pit of your stomach to your throat, sickening. "I'm sorry," you stammer, Joel's eyes lighting up with that sinister hue you now know like the back of your hand.

He retrieves the knife from above the bed and places the blade under the fabric of the T-shirt, cutting through the sleeves and tearing it from the neck to the hem, reducing it to a shred of fabric lying beneath you. You tremble when the icy blade touches your skin.

His boxer-covered erection presses against your thigh, against your wound.

Again you wonder what substance your mind is now made of because feeling him against you, demanding, claiming your body, makes your pleasure slide down your legs. You can feel it on your skin, a shiver, a wetness, a trickle of you leaving you to become his. You mold under him, relaxing your muscles, ceasing to resist, submitting to his stern eyes nailing you to the bed.

He takes your hands and intertwines them possessively with his own as his legs push between yours, forcefully spreading them apart.

He crawls on you like a rabid dog, inhaling your scent on your neck, down to your sternum, reaching your breast, licking the skin above your ribcage “You were Robert's, weren't you?”

His teeth close on one of your nipples, biting it, your back arches pushing against his mouth, demanding more. “This? It's mine now.” he whispers in a rough voice ‘This is mine too.’ he adds, twisting the other nipple, he moves one hand to your mound, grabbing it ”What about this wet pussy? She's mine too. I own you now. Make sure you don’t forget that, you little cock slave”

And you feel it again. The desire coursing down your body, clinging to your nerves, flowing into the middle of your thighs.

It lingers on you deeply. And you’re pleading at that. Before you sense your own voice saying it, like it doesn’t belong to you, coming out of someone’s else body “Please” you babble “please, more” as he run a single finger through your folds.

Everyone you knew died. Every person you loved is gone, ruined by the spreading epidemic. Except your father, who passed away a few years before the pandemic broke out, obliterated by lung cancer. You still remember his jagged, exhausted breathing getting more and more labored, small and thin, until it died out completely. You still remember the smell of the hospital room, the dimness, your gripped heart, your silent tears. It was something you never wanted to see, the moment when death takes someone. It stays inside, digs deep into you, rattles in the walls of your brain until one day it subsides and remains a creeping awareness you have to live with. A brick in your pocket that will forever weigh of absence, of pain, of lack.

And when you thought maybe you could make it, one day when the brick seemed lighter, pandemic came and your mother turned into a monster. From a fragile woman, still bent by your father's absence, to a ferocious beast with bloodshot eyes that tried to break your neck.

You had had to tear it down yourself, with your own strength, that thing your mother had turned into. And you couldn't explain it for days, or how you had done it, or what had happened. People were running around terrified, not knowing where to take refuge, not knowing if it would ever end. Until they came and loaded you onto trucks, promising to escort you to a safe area. What you were not told was that there was no solution, for some of you there was not even a place in the QZ. The epidemic took away not only the people you cared about but also your dreams, every hope you had for your future, every plan to become a good teacher, to accompany young minds in creating a better world. There is nothing left to create, only destruction.

You could have offered yourself as a teacher in the Qz but you had decided not to bow to a system that spread only government propaganda, instilling in kids that there was nothing else to believe in but FEDRA.

And even in the face of desperation the cruelty had not stopped, some soldiers had tried to take you at night, traumatized and without strength, you had been saved only by the good heart of one of your neighbors who had defended you. You had jumped out of the truck, along with him and some other people, looking for an alternative that would never come. They had fallen like skittles, one after another. You were tired of seeing it, the cold hand of death reaching out to everyone around you.

Your heart still aches horribly, but after all, a heart that hurts is a heart that works. And you're still alive.

He takes the finger away and shoves it in his mouth, enjoying the taste of you and then he’s close to your ear again grazing you with his beard and graveling “I knew you were a little slut,” Joel's heavy breath warms your skin, driving your being back into your body. “When I'm done with you you'll want nothing more than to be my brainless whore”

You’re bucking your hips against him, mindlessly, while he takes your body with his mouth and hands, furiously licking, biting and groping your flesh, moving impatiently over you on the bed and waking Tess up. She takes a few seconds to focus, abruptly recovered from a deep sleep, but then you hear her dry voice, “oh, are you having fun without me?”

Joel does not tell her that you tried to escape. which in itself is a miracle for you. He turns to her just a moment, leaving your nipple with a loud pop .

“Come” he tells her, and it's almost sweet. Almost. Tess comes crawling up on the bed like a feline and looks down at you, smiling cruelly.

“Lie on top of her, make sure this bitch doesn't move” Tess nods, he makes room for her, and she crushes you with all her weight, her scarred back against your tits, as if you were a mat, clinging to your arms as Joel watches the scene smugly "Quite a picture" he growls.

He pulls down Tess's panties, tossing them aside. He does the same with his boxers. “This is exactly what I want. Two pretty cunts all for me”

He stoops to observe you both, his eyes roaming your sexes, his thumb touching you first, a creamy river in between your folds, and then Tess. She snorts “will you hurry up?”

“mmm you're not wet enough honey, but we can fix that”

“Honey”, you think he is the only person who can call Tess that. Anyone else would be out of balls in a heartbeat.

He buries his face in her cunt and you feel Tess stiffen on top of you, her whole body reacting to the first touch of Joel's tongue. You seem to catch a glimpse of submerged fragility behind all that violence and resentment she always displays.

She grips your wrists in a vice as her hips rise toward Joel and a low, deep moan escapes from her throat.

Joel's fingers run hard and calloused over your folds, collecting what drips from you and spreading it over Tess's pussy, mixing your essences, then returning to lick her. And you can feel her, crumbling on top of you, conceding willingly, every muscle in her asking for more.

Each lapping of Joel's tongue on her vibrates over your body like a wave, Tess's butt sliding over your folds, crawling over your clit, giving you reflex stimulation.

“Mmmm just like that, baby, that’s fucking good”

She whines so sweetly under his ministration, an undertone so vulnerable and tender in her voice you almost think she turned into another person. And you are in the front row watching this, a silent witness to the other Tess, the one who still has a shred of humanity hidden within her.

It’s unique, you think, how sex with the right person, a person we care about, a person we share a path with, makes us. Defenseless, no mask to wear against the world. Even Tess, perhaps the coldest woman you’ve ever met.

“Nice and drippy” Joel murmurs, nuzzling at Tess’s cunt “fucking gorgeous”

He dips his nose in there, moving through her folds up to her clits, brushing the tip over it. “You smell so good, babe, such an nice mess for me to feast on”

“Fuck” Tess gasps “just fuck me”

“Yeah baby, I’m going to stretch you both so damn right”

Tess rolls her eyes in twisted need, impatient like the bossy woman she still is and you whine like the shy mess that you are.

So different and yet ready for the same cock.

You noticed the way Joel’s voice soften when he speaks to Tess, the intimacy between them is palpable, in this moment you’re just an appendage.

You want that desperately, belong to someone, to him, to her, to feel his voice and his whole body going unshielded for you.

Joel spits into his palm and takes his cock in his fist, pumping it and then tapping the tip on her cunt, once, twice, three times, rubbing it on her folds, lubricating it with her juices, before getting it all the way inside her. Tess's body arches so desperately over yours, merging with Joel's as he begins to thrust inside her.

She thrashes on top of you, clinging to your forearms, pushing you back against the mattress, her hips swaying over yours again giving secondhand attention to your clit, now so swollen and needy that each thrust you emit a moan in sync with her, shyly participating in her pleasure. You bend your neck slightly to one side to look at Joel standing before you, bronze and sculptural, a cruel god who leaves you breathless. His chest glistens in the dim sunlight streaming in through the window, revealing tiny droplets of sweat beading on him, a grin painted on his face, brows furrowed, lost in Tess's wet walls, focused on pounding on her special spot again and again.

“You like that huh? You like this cock splitting you, yeah, I know you do, fuck you’re so drenched I could take a bath in it, all slippery and warm...mmm baby, just like that. Take it.”

He rests a hand on her belly to hold her more firmly, a sense of possession different from that manifested with you, purer and deeper, made up of silent, recurring gestures between them. It's as if you feel it all the way down into your stomach as he sinks into her, the forced closeness making you almost delirious, sensitive and wanting.

Tess is almost at her peak, sliding on you now unceasingly, her back kneading your breasts, up and down, your nipples impossibly hard against her skin, she stammers "there- there- I'm almost there- oh fuck"

"Not yet, baby, hold it back" he challenges her and she growls in disappointment and frustration, as he comes out of her. Joel brushes against you "it's time to put this slut in her place. You want it huh?" he roars as he looks at you "I can see it from here, you're flowing like a fucking river, clenching around nothing like a whore”

His eyes sparkle with evil. He spits on your cunt, a glob of saliva right on your clit. He spreads it quickly over your entrance and thrusts into you unceremoniously, all the way down, in one breath-breaking stroke. "You're full now huh? Clench around my shaft, bitch”

You feel your walls strangle his cock, eager to hold him inside, to belong to him, to be broken through. "Yes" you moan, not even sure why you had tried to run away from this anymore. Tess wouldn't even need to hold you with her whole body but you'll never say it, the way she bounces on top of you drives you crazy. You are back on the scene now, eager, drunk with a dark, all-consuming desire burning in your veins.

He grips your hips hard, digging his fingers into your thighs, going out and back in you harder, deeper each time, using your cunt as his personal toy, beating on your cervix as if he were to fill it with bruises. And you don't care, welcoming each thrust as if it were the last thing you will ever receive.

Your mouth proceeds alone, bellowing and wailing each moan like an off-key song you can't stop singing, irrepressible, obscene, feverish.

"You're tight for a whore, pet, but don't worry, I'll take care of it." Joel grunts, Tess echoes you, her harsh voice protesting uselessly to let her finish, her legs wrap around Joel's waist claiming him but he is focused on ruining you now with the cruel and unrelenting force he has not reserved for her.

Her nails sink into the skin of your arms, you feel them barely disconcerted by Joel's stabs but a tiny part of your brain knows they will leave more marks on you.

There is nothing gentle about it, no attention, no care, just animalistic thrusts that make your body shake like an earthquake.

You are less, obviously less, but you are still something.

Tess turns on you, looking into your eyes, lowering a hand to your clit, rubbing it furiously and then colliding it with her own, clit against clit, pressed together in sloppy kissing, hips rocking back and forth, sliding up to the point where Joel joins obscenely with you, seeking on her own the finish Joel has not yet given her by using your body.

“Oh fuck, yes,” she screeches, "here we go little slut, give it all to me" biting your skin on the marks Joel left, on your neck, on your tits, sucking your nipples between her lips, unrestrained. She's a wild amazon riding you, untamed, fierce and mean, teeth, tongue and hips demanding no permission and taking from your body what they want.

And then again her hand descends between you to rub her clit as her knuckles press against yours, squirting letting out a guttural sound, flooding you, Joel's cock and the sheets.

Joel growls at the vision “oh that’s fucking right, babe, yeah spurt all over me, FUCK, so good”

And you lose yourself, your sanity flying out the window with your attempts to escape, you are caged by Tess's body, hammered by Joel's cock, you feel their eyes on you looking fiercely, them calling you their slut again and again, that's all you can do.

Tess pulls away from you, Joel holds you firmly by the hips, his face contorts into a grimace, he bites his lower lip as he thrusts himself possessively into you, reaches down and puts a hand around your neck, squeezing your pulse point, smiling cruelly as your air diminishes and your mind becomes rarefied “keep it up slut, milk me” and she scolds him “you can't cum inside her”.

“Fuck” he snorts "you're right". The grip on your neck loosens and you gasp, panting hard, trying to regain oxygen.

Joel slaps your pussy hard with his hand open, ordering: “on your knees, pet.”

You sit complacently on your lap on the bed, uncertain of what he wants to do. Tess is at your side, sneering.

“Stick out your tongue for me.” He says harshly, Tess's hand bends your back, making you squat, waiting.

“Good kitten” Joel grunts stroking his cock up and down, the angry red tip aimed at you. You don't realize it in time that long, thick, streaks of cum hit your face, your mouth, slide down your chin. You close your eyes just a moment before you feel his semen hit your eyelashes and run thickly down your cheek.

“Mmm now you look just like a proper slut” Tess giggles wickedly, then pauses "In fact no, we can do better". She grabs you by the arm, drags you naked as a maggot into the bathroom, and gets you on your knees inside the tub. “Hold still” she barks at you. You close your eyes, trembling, not knowing what to expect, until you feel something warm hit your forehead, run down your face, partially wash the cum off. An acrid, pungent smell makes its way into your nostrils. As soon as it reaches your lips you realize.

You open your eyes, clouded by Tess's piss, her degrading gaze penetrating your bones along with Joel's laughter, standing in the bathroom enjoying the show.

“Now you're perfect.”

tag list: @aurorawritestoescape , @baronessvonglitter

#dark!joel miller #dark!tess servopoulos #dark!joel #dark!tess #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel tlou #joel miller au #joel miller angst #joel miller #tess servopoulos #the last of us

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sunnirayss · 2 days ago

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To everyone fighting with this person in comments and reblogs, save your energy because they're clearly not looking for a thoughtful conversation on LOA. Instead they just want to start drama and will interpret any counterpoints you may have as "cult propaganda" and "coping".

AKA they feel insecure, frustrated, and miserable in their own life and are taking that out on the people they see being the opposite of that. There's nothing wrong with realizing that LOA isn't for you anymore, but don't pretend like you escaped some malicious group on par with real cults like Scientology, Q, NXIVM, Heaven's Gate, etc..

Cults are insidious groups that control, exploit, and abuse their followers. Cults ruin their followers' lives by taking all their money, cutting them off from the outside world (including their own families), and making them completely dependent on the group no matter what.

They are not just groups of people that you personally disagree with and claiming otherwise just helps actual cults appear as harmless (making it easier to recruit and hurt more people).

I'd highly recommend the book Combatting Cult Mind Control by Steve Hassan. The author is an ex-cult member (Unification Church/Moonies) who has dedicated his life to cult research and deprogramming since he was deprogrammed himself in 1976. The book goes into detail about what cults are, what separates them from regular groups (spoiler: high control and manipulation), the techniques they use to transform people into dedicated followers, and how to help rescue someone if you believe they're in a cult (among other things).

And if you don't want to/can't read his book, at least take a look at his BITE model which illustrates signs of authoritarian control. It's good to know to help you avoid getting sucked into cults, but also makes it very easy to understand why LOA is not a cult.

LOA is the exact opposite of being dependent on someone or something, if you feel otherwise then you're doing it wrong. You are not following some charismatic leader, you're trusting yourself and embracing your own power.

You are not cutting yourself off from anyone who disagrees with LOA, you're being secure in your own beliefs about how you control your reality.

There's no doctrine to follow, no propaganda being made, no controlling what people do/eat/think/dress/etc, no surpression of self expression, no punishment for disobedience, no approved list of media to consume, no us vs. them mentality... I could go on.

Saying otherwise is simply dishonest and shows how little people like this understand about LOA or cults. If you were able to leave the "LOA cult" easily with no negative consequences, then congratulations...not a cult.

That's some actual cult education for you, from an actual person who was raised within a cult (Jehovah's Witnesses) :)

LOA IS A CULT. Everyone Including myself and those who are familiar with it, know it’s a cult! I know everyone lies for attention or to live in the end because I used to be a big blogger myself. I won't reveal who I was, but I saw firsthand how these bloggers, claiming to be friends in real life, are actually deceiving everyone—they're all liars. Behind the scenes, they're working regular jobs while curating content from friends and family to share as their own as proof. Many of them have multiple accounts and blogs to give the illusion of authenticity. If you don't believe me, create a fake account and replicate the process—fabricate a success story, and watch as bloggers emerge from the shadows seeking help. Most of them have disappeared now... I wonder why that is, lol. It's time to open your eyes to the reality behind these façades and question the true motives driving this deceitful tumblr .

Despite the presence of manifestors, witches, and astrologists manifesting against Donald Trump in the world it's amusing to see that he still emerged victorious and by a whole lot!!!

It's worth noting that among the founders of the law of assumption and the void state on platforms like Tumblr, inconsistencies and inaccuracies have surfaced in their stories over time – there seems to be a trend of untruthfulness, among them (it might be interesting for you to verify this observation by checking out posts from your favorite bloggers, especially the newer ones; I've taken a look and it appears they're all just making their posts using GPT !

"Persist with belief"; A call to continue holding onto faith and dedication similar, to how spiritual groups encourage their followers to stay steadfast in their beliefs.

“Embrace the mysterious without needing evidence." This mindset echoes the inclination towards accepting the unknown and intangible elements of existence often upheld by certain groups that prioritize faith in the unseen, over concrete proof.

Echoing the cults claims of enlightenment or salvation, without tangible evidence but guaranteeing miraculous transformations assures me of its validity.

Despite the uncovering of deceit and dishonesty by individuals within a system built on mistruth; trust and belief persist unshaken. Mirroring the resilience shown by groups, in the face of revealed falsehood.

"When someone blindly follows something or someone else – it's, like trusting without proof of why or how things work out in the end."

“Discover the truth within yourself”. Encouraging the exploration of truths and insights through belief in something greater; a familiar motif, in spiritual practices.

Encouraging connection, with the energy of the universe is a spiritual idea that highlights the importance of harmonizing with greater forces beyond our sight.

"Fulfill your destiny"; The concept of shaping your own future through faith alone is frequently referenced in spiritual communities as a means to claim authority, over your own life path.

“Rise above the boundaries of the realm " suggesting the possibility of surpassing earthly restrictions through belief in something greater; mirroring stories of spiritual groups seeking elevated levels of existence.

Calling upon the power of the Encouraging believers to tap into mystical powers is a common theme, in teachings of spiritual groups that offer promises of special intervention or extraordinary abilities.

These instances provide insight into the use of language, with spiritual cult like tendencies that focus on faith and commitments that extend beyond tangible proof.

Please, there are bloggers out there sharing and telling us to save Palestine, claiming you can manifest a trillion dollars out of thin air, yet they can't manifest an end to war or even a simple solution. They say you can't control other people, yet they talk about manifesting specific people,, changing your family completely, or even your own race. You all were claiming you were manifesting Harris. I thought manifestation never fails, loool. "Oh, just persist, it will reflect like Neville leaving the war," they say, but all Neville managed could very well fall under the coincidence category, just like healing a burned hand, hahahahah. It's baffling that people are wasting their lives on something they know deep down is false. For the children in this community, just stick to a routine, focus on school and work, and foster your own life. While doing so, perhaps listen to subliminals, but don't rely on these vicious lies. Your time and energy are too precious to be spent on such unfounded claims.

Before you start getting defensive in my comments, take a moment to think and tell me how long you've been manifesting. How long have you been persisting in this process? Share in the comments first, and reflect on how little has actually changed. When you ask questions of these bloggers, why do they always seem to victim blame you instead of providing real answers? They claim to love and care about you so much, yet they charge for subliminals and can't manifest even simple things like you entering the void state. They won't manifest for your mental health desires, despite all the supposedly enlightening infographics they share. They talk about being able to shift reality and consciousness, yet they can't offer real help. Isn't this just typical cult behavior? It's time to question the authenticity of these practices and recognize the inconsistencies.

Some of these bloggers are in their 20s and live on disability, which gives them both the time and money to spread misinformation and false hopes. If you're young and still have potential, please make wise choices. Some aspects of spirituality are indeed real, and manifesting can be a genuine practice, but remember there's a reason why 99% of these bloggers are deceitful. They all eventually leave before their lies catch up with them. It's a disgrace that they pretend to help you in their DMs while knowing you're struggling with issues like poverty and abuse. I truly hope things improve for you, but don't rely on this cult-like mentality.

Critics might come into the comments and claim you just have doubts, but that's not the case. Once I left the Law of Assumption and started genuinely working, studying, and ensuring my grades were satisfactory, my life changed. I got a boyfriend, landed my dream job, and even took steps towards my desired appearance with a nose job. These achievements didn’t just materialize from thin air; they came from hard work. I accomplished more in three months after leaving the cult than some do in five years. I know people who've been in this community for a decade—when will they wake up to reality? That nagging feeling of doubt is actually common sense trying to prevent you from ruining your life.

How many times are you going to think, "I can't tolerate my life; I'm just going to shift," before it becomes unbearable and you realize you're stuck? How many liars need to be exposed? How many times do people have to be scammed before they see the truth? The so-called void masters aren’t helping; if they could truly access the void, they'd expose the liars. But then they’d have to admit they're lying too, and that no one has achieved these creative writing promises. It's all for attention and affirming to manifest is not a magic solution.

Let's be real here—your favorite bloggers allowed the Turing administration to achieve a landslide victory, with the court gone, the Senate gone, the House gone, and the residence done. Project 2025 is in motion, but sure, everyone’s supposed to be GOD, right? You people are worse than religious fanatics. I secured my visa because I knew otherwise, I'd be stuck here; you can't rely on the fake law of assumption. Go ask your bloggers why Trump won, and they'll just tell you to persist or claim it's all an illusion. Seriously? We'll see how much of an illusion it is once Palestine is wiped off the map, and all these so-called void masters can do is make a note to ignore the 3D world, loool. It's absurd that they think such real-world issues can simply be brushed aside with wishful thinking. Time to question these beliefs and face reality.

This message isn't directed at the older members of this cult because, at this point, only you can wake yourself up. But to the younger ones, please focus on building your life in the actual world. It's very real, and your suffering will only worsen if you keep clinging to false hopes.

To all the bloggers who know they're spreading lies, go ahead and manifest that my post gets deleted. I apologize for even considering that some of you revise events where people have literally died. Try revising this post or imagine me apologizing. It's time to stop spreading deceit and start facing the truth. Your actions have consequences, and it's crucial to start acknowledging the reality of the world we live in.

Even those who claim to manifest outside of time are no different—they're all selling courses for hundreds of dollars each month, with packages reaching into the thousands. It's ironic, isn't it? They preach about manifesting abundance yet charge exorbitant fees for their wisdom. Just think about it for a moment: if they could truly manifest unlimited wealth and success, why would they need to profit off of your hard-earned money? The truth is, their business model depends on your belief in their promises, and they capitalize on that by offering overpriced courses that are often filled with recycled content. This practice raises questions about the authenticity of their teachings and whether they genuinely have your best interests at heart.

The feeling you’re having is your body and mind trying to tell you there's truth in what I'm saying. It's like they're working to save you from falling into the trap of delusions. You are caught up in loa and you’re actually caught up in their own illusions. Many of these successful loa folks outside of tumblr grew up in wealthy families, living good lives, and got richer with a mix of luck and hard work. That's why so much of this community feels ridiculous; it's mostly made up of kids chasing dreams and adults spinning lies or looking for attention because they have too much free time.

Society keeps these cycles going, making it easy to fool ourselves. The temptation of quick success and promises of an easy life are hard to resist, especially for those always surrounded by comfort and now searching for something deeper than just money. For some, the LOA community seems like a beacon of hope and purpose. But it's important to see that while some find value, others get caught in a loop of broken promises, clinging to the idea that just thinking positively will bring success without real effort.

This way of thinking can will you ppl away from reality, you’re following and worshipping people seeking likes and attention takes the place of real achievements. LOA IS A CULT. Please wake up

#cult #law of assumption #loa is NOT a cult #void state

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