#//whistleblower anon hi again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rapturously · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! Love your stuff and I've been binging it a lottt!! Saw that requests were open so I wanted to send one.

I've been having a brainrot over Eddie Gluskin meeting a virgin!reader that has always wanted to be a wife (and a mother 😳).

┊ 𝐅𝐎𝐑��𝐀𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — one-shot.

┊ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — eddie gluskin x afab!reader.

┊ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — SMUT/18+! abduction, dubious consent, virgin!reader, eddie is his own warning lmao, descriptions of gore, breeding kink, choking, dirty talk, slight degradation, vaginal sex/rough sex, biting. not a nice character.

┊ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 5,020.

┊ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — thank you so much for your request & I apologize that I took awhile! I actually went back and played some of whistleblower for this lmao ,, I remember when I was obsessed with this character (you have reinvigorated the outlast spark, anon !!! ❣️) if you aren’t familiar with outlast (taglist) that’s totally fine! I hope y’all enjoy! ❤️

┊ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — @peachygothgirl ; @mrs-heelshire ; @slasherfantasy ; @loraxlola ; @the-wordis-bird ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @dootys ; @mehidktbh ; @darklylucid ; @lttlegore ; @the-anxious-youth ; @callmemeelah ; @comicalrage ; @horrorstories123 ; @krakersy ; @bloodwithpeachmilk ; @suguruswife

“Did I frighten you? I’m awfully sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to.”

Pinned between a table and the splintered, dilapidated hardwood, you were biting into your palm to keep from making any noise. Perspiration built up upon your back, sending cold shivers up your spine as echoed footfalls began to stalk closer and closer, weaving their way through the numerous shelves and sewing units. You could hear your heart, hear your blood pumping, ringing within your ears.

Mount Massive Asylum had become your personal hell — your own dimension bent on tormenting you. You were only there for what seemed like less than an hour, desperately hoping to visit your brother, a patient at the facility, but the carnage began with you inside of the building.

You’d been beaten and thrown, chased and maimed, but you were far more resilient than you’d ever let on. Your brother was the only remaining family you had left, and you had a sick feeling that he might not have lived through whatever disturbed carnival this place had turned into. There was gore everywhere you turned, countless corpses, maniacs running everywhere.

If your brother was alive, you prayed that he wasn’t like them, that he hadn’t succumbed to whatever nightmares these people dreamed. You weren’t going to be allowed to see him whatsoever until you threatened to slam them with a lawsuit, but of course, something terrible always intercepted something good.

There was a stranger prowling around within this room, you were locked in with a murderer. One of the patients that had chased you down here called him Mr. Gluskin. To your complete bewilderment, he spoke with a clarity that many others in the facility lacked, a suave, debonair charm that almost coaxed you out from underneath the table, at first.

And then you saw the bloody knife and the corpses — the absolute strength of the man, dressed as if he’d come straight from a vintage bridal magazine, a groom complete with a bow tie and a patchwork vest. He was moving about the tables, humming to himself as if this were commonplace for him.

His appearance happened to remind you of your own engagement, called off a few weeks ago. You were keen on being a wife and finding your happy ending, so to speak, but after you found out about the vast amount of lies fed to you by your fiancé, you backed out. Even then, you were young — early twenties with plenty of time to try again.

It all hinged upon whether or not you would survive, of course. There was the mounting possibility that you would die here, and this would be your final resting place, some hellscape of an asylum crawling with horrors beyond your wildest imagination. Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard, fighting back the onslaught of anguished tears.

As the bulky man crouched down to inspect the table across the room from you, you could barely make out your disheveled, terrified expression within the reflection of his knife. Your breath hitched, and you fought hard to stay quiet, pushing any and all thoughts aside, shoving lamenting to the recesses of your brain.

“Hm, quite a recluse, aren’t we?” He sighed, exaggerated and exasperated, growing tired with your state of hiding. He knew that you were close, that you were here in the room with him. One of the shelving units happened to obscure you from sight, but not for much longer.

The man clicked his tongue, tapping the blade of his knife against the top of the table. His movements were akin to a seasoned predator, searching for his prey, eerie-blue eyes fluttering over his surroundings. You couldn’t stay hidden forever, and as much as he thought about waiting you out, he was growing impatient.

He stalked forward, standing only a few inches away from the shelving unit and table you were huddled underneath, and it allowed you a closer look at him, even if it was dark. Moonlight pooled inside of the room, pale slivers dancing across his pale skin, one side of his face marred and riddled with scars.

You almost let out a squeak of terror, shoving yourself as far back into the table as you could go, your legs beginning to shake. He was so close, and if you were to reach out, you might’ve been able to touch him with enough straining. Your teeth were sinking into the flesh of your palm to keep from making noise, no matter how much it might’ve hurt.

“Where could you be, darling?” He hummed, gaze flickering toward the shelves and tables on his left. There was something terrifying about his glower, laced with sinister intent, intermingled with a misplaced adoration. Placing the knife back into his belt for now, he walked forward, giving you the illusion that he was searching elsewhere.

With an indomitable amount of strength, he wrenched backwards, gripping the table you were hiding underneath, and practically tossed it to one side, watching it fly across the splintered floorboards. He heard you scream, paralyzed and trembling where you sat, clad in the jumpsuit of a patient.

“There you are, my love.” He purred, standing tall above you, clasping his hands together. There was nowhere for you to go — you were trapped, pinned within the jaws of this man. “Not such a recluse now, I see.” The man grabbed you by the back of the jumpsuit, hauling you forward.

“P—Please don’t kill me!” You wailed, whimpering when he jerked you forward with an inhuman amount of strength. He dragged you from the darkness and into the vast stretch of moonlight upon the floor, and it hurt to feel some of the splinters catching upon your skin. “Please!” You begged.

The man was quick to crouch down on top of you, so much bigger and much, much stronger. In such close proximity, he was more human than the rest of them in appearance, save for that tangled web of livid scars on the right side of his face. His eyes were bloodshot, a sea of red around cerulean irises. A snarl left him when you wriggled underneath him, hands tangled into the front of your jumpsuit.

You were no patient — not at all, he realized.

You were clever enough to disguise yourself as one, for whatever purpose, but he wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t stupid. There were no female patients at Mount Massive Asylum — at least, none that he hadn’t created himself. Wherever you were from, whatever you were doing in this place, he took it as a sign that you were placed here just for him.

Why else would you be here?

Grasping your chin within his hand, he inspected you, your pretty face and doe-like stare, the small cut you’d endured along your jaw — nothing that he couldn’t fix for you before the wedding. You became quiet, letting out the occasional whimper, and you didn’t struggle nearly as much as he thought you would. The pad of his thumb stroked across your skin, brows furrowing together.

“So beautiful,” He uttered, lips curling into a lovesick grin. “It seems that I won’t have to do any sort of alterations this time.” You were perfect — at last, had he found his true love? Confusion permeated your gaze, accompanied by a furrowed brow yourself as you were completely still underneath him. No use in fighting to make it worse, you figured. “Marvelous.”

Alterations? You were baffled — this man was caught within his own nightmarish fantasy, just like the rest of the patients. You shivered when he caressed your cheek, your chest rising and falling with your quick, labored breathing. He terrified you, but not nearly as much as some of the patients you’d encountered here.

“So very quiet, aren’t we?” His thumb trailed across your lower lip, head cocked to one side. “You do speak, don’t you darling? It would be a shame if I couldn’t hear you,” His sigh was exaggerated, dramatic. He clicked his tongue, reveling in your softness. You were the silkiest thing he’d touched in ages. “Especially on our wedding night.”

Trapped underneath him, you didn’t even know what to say — words coagulated within the back of your throat, unable to force themselves out. Your breathing was sporadic and panicked; you were a canary caught within the jaws of a cat. He held your face with a strong grip, one that was demanding and not entirely gentle, commanding your attention.

“Wh—What are you going to do to me?” You gushed, swallowing hard as the man released your face, gloved hand falling to your sternum. The way he towered over you and enveloped you was wholly intimidating, and you wouldn’t dare try and fight this man, no matter how he presented himself. You ogled the knife on his belt, instead.

“What you were made for,” He uttered, palm finally coming to rest across your belly. “To be my beloved bride,” He leaned in toward your face, inhaling a gust of your saccharine scent. “To bear my children.” You couldn’t tell if he was serious, but his tone indicated that this was what he planned to do to you.

It sounded insane, but it was ultimately better than dying. Your head told you to run, to scream and flee, but you were fighting against all rationale. If you could subdue him, maybe it would be easier to get away. You couldn’t tell if he was toying with you, but it didn’t seem that way. You remembered the hand-stitched wedding dresses you saw when you’d first escaped downstairs.

You said nothing — maybe it was shock, the words coagulating within the back of your throat, or maybe you were unwilling to speak. Your chest rose and fell at a panicked pace, heart hammering so hard that it rang out within your ears. This man was glowering down upon you with a twisted smile, trapped within fantasy and not reality.

“Use your words, darling. I would hate to pry that mouth of yours open,” His words took on some frightening edge, dark and dangerous as he squeezed your chin so hard that you whimpered, and you opened your mouth right then. “Such beauty.” He sighed, petting your side with his other hand.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you reluctantly spoke, your tone kept sickeningly sweet in an attempt to subdue him. “Marriage?” You breathed, swallowing hard as you put on some sort of facade. “Ar—Aren’t you going to propose?” You inquired, and that seemed to delight your future “husband”.

He hummed, hastily removing something from one of the breast pockets of his crudely-made vest. “Of course,” He purred, and sure enough, he presented you with a tarnished, silver ring, topped in tiny diamonds and crusted crimson. You wondered whose finger he cut off to obtain the trinket. “There we are.”

Snatching ahold of your hand, he practically jammed it onto your left ring finger, no matter how ill-fitted it happened to be. You gulped, hand trembling throughout the whole ordeal as he managed to get it onto your hand. The ring would’ve been pretty if it weren’t for the environment, the dingy blood, or the man forcing it onto your hand.

“Now it’s official.” You squeaked, your finger throbbing with pain as you let your palm settle next to you. There was a tremulous tremor within the bottom of your throat, making your voice quiver whenever you spoke. It was some conscious response to fear, to the amount of stress you were feeling in that very moment.

Sweeping you off of your feet, your newfound groom held you like a blushing bride, squeezing you against his wide chest. His countenance was contorted into a lovesick grin, glittering eyes glowering down at you, but there was some unhinged malevolence behind it, lingering beneath the surface.

He carried you through his labyrinth of sewing machines and wreckage, humming to himself as he made his way toward the torture table. You almost gasped when you saw one of the patients bound and wailing on the wooden surface, completely stripped bare. His skin was mottled and strange, like the rest of the patients here.

You looked away, breath hitching within your throat, and your new companion seemed to notice your immediate discomfort. “If his screams bother you, darling, I will get rid of the little whore.” He murmured, and you shook your head. You weren’t about to have anymore blood on your hands.

You had no idea where he was hauling you off to — you could barely remember the way out, if there was any getting out at all. This man seemed far more cunning and more intelligent than most of the patients here, just as brutal and crazed as the rest of them. You intended on playing the long game, making him as docile as possible first.

“Oh, my love,” He sighed, pressing his lips against the top of your head, “I am so fortunate to have found you. I certainly hope that none of those filthy creatures have laid their hands upon you.” It was all said with such sincerity that you knew, for him, it was completely real — but delusional, all the same. “I will take such good care of you, I swear it.”

This was insanity — you should’ve run when you had the chance, try to find your way out of this hellish labyrinth, but it was too late now, wasn’t it? Tears pricked at your eyes, but you worked swiftly to blink them away, pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek. You didn’t know what to say or how to respond to whatever left this man’s mouth.

Even if it all sounded outlandish and strange, you needed to keep up the facade, you needed to subdue him, get him to trust you. Playing along was the only way that you knew how. “Thank you,” Your voice seemed much steadier than you thought it would. “For taking care of me, Mr. Gluskin.” Despite the anxiousness wrought within your tone, he paid it no mind.

This was a maze — a horrible, bloody maze. The more this man winded through corridors, marked by crimson stains and the stench of decay, the more your heart sank into the pit of your stomach. You were involuntarily clutching onto him out of fear, attempting to suppress your shudder as he passed by a set of doors — you swore you saw hanging bodies.

“How formal,” He uttered, lifting an eyebrow before shaking his head. “It’s Eddie, darling.” Eddie Gluskin — the man downstairs. You nodded several times over, terrified of upsetting the man. As Gluskin took you deeper into the depraved clutches of his own personal hell, you subtly searched for exits, for windows, any shred of potential escape.

At last, he arrived at a room at the very end of a corridor — a dead-end, of course. Wherever you were, it looked like a wing for a handful of patients. Moonlight pooled within the confines of Gluskin’s quarters, windows barred by wrought-iron bars, the pounding of rain reverberating against bulletproof glass. He locked the door behind him, unceremoniously depositing you onto his unkempt bed.

Scrambling to gather yourself, your gaze tore away from the macabre scenery of his room and toward the crazed man himself, eyes glistening like pinpoints of bright light. Gluskin only stood a few feet away from you, but the distance seemed so thin, as if he were pressed against you, weighing you down with his indomitable presence.

The sinful, hungry sheen within his stare only solidified why he’d brought you here — your stomach sloshed with a turbulent worry, goosebumps collecting themselves at the base of your spine. An equivocal tension built between the both of you, marked with your mounting awareness and Eddie’s violent lust. The gleam of the knife caught upon silvery rays — you knew you needed to tread carefully.

“Irresistible you,” Eddie crooned, his voice emerging as that familiar husky lull he’d used with you upon your first encounter. “I must admit to my vulgarities, darling.” He hesitated, breathing uneven and tight with excitement as he stalked closer, akin to that of a fearsome predator. “I don’t think that I can wait until our wedding night.”

Swallowing hard, you felt the knot within your gut, words coagulating within the bottom of your throat, unable to emerge to the surface. Your digits wrenched themselves into the sheets beneath you, heart hammering so hard that it threatened to burst from your chest. You were afraid, you were nervous — but you knew better.

Rejecting Gluskin would only spell your doom, and so you played along, played right into his hand, into his maddening delusions of lust and of eternal matrimony. Your lips parted, and only a stuttering breath emerged, your eyes fluttering between his grinning visage and the bloodstained knife hanging from his hip.

“You know how a man gets when he wants a woman.”

Eddie’s voice was nothing more than some seductive purr, and admittedly, you found it alluring, deep down. It was vile to come to the conclusion that you were getting some sliver of enjoyment out of this, and you wanted to vomit, but you steeled yourself instead. The closer he stepped, the more you crumbled underneath the lascivious ogling he gave you.

You’ve never done this before — you’ve never been in this situation. It certainly wasn’t playing out how you expected it to be within your mind, but that's besides the point. “I’ve — I’ve never …” You left your sentence vague, but your implications ignited something dark and deadly within Gluskin.

“Oh?”

At last, there was nowhere left to go, the Groom looming directly in front of you, a malignant shadow that refused to depart. You caught the pearlescent sheen of his teeth through the caliginous room, feeling unnerved at the sight of his countenance. His grin was wolfish, chilling — it sank right into your bones, making you shiver.

“Saving yourself for me,” Eddie hummed, gaze raking across your form before he motioned toward your threadbare, bloodied garments. “Remove your clothes.” He stepped back enough to allow you proper room, but he wanted to watch for his own enjoyment, watch you unwrap before his very eyes.

Your hands trembled as you sheepishly unfastened the buttons at the top of the patient’s jumpsuit, attempting to suppress your nervousness. Your obedience was enthralling to Gluskin, whose hands tightened into fists in order to restrain himself, knuckles white underneath his gloves. He watched you like a predator would watch prey — obsessed, ravenous.

Sucking in a sharp breath, tears pricked at your eyes, but you fought against them, quivering as you peeled off the top of your jumpsuit, letting the tarnished fabric collect around your hips. Sheepishly, you adjusted yourself enough to wriggle the jumpsuit past your thighs, discarding it in a pile onto the splintered floorboards.

Instinct told you to shield yourself from this man’s grotesque stare, but you didn’t, sitting in your undergarments with skin so hot that you felt completely feverish. Laid bare before your newfound ‘husband’, his breath hitched, surveying your flesh, the canvas of perfection set before him.

“You must lack proper hearing, darling,” Eddie rasped, taking one step forward, “I didn’t say to stop, did I? It would be unwise to keep your beloved waiting.” He reveled in your doe-eyed stare, throat tensing, jaw tightening as you nodded, fingers clamoring toward the metal hooks at the center of your back.

Shrinking underneath his stare, you hastily removed your brassiere, terrified of the consequences if you went any slower. However, your mind bristled with an idea — your mouth began to move before you could make a rational decision. “Maybe you could remove the last piece?” You asked, bewildered by the sultriness that permeated your tone.

Christ, you were so fucked — you’ve never been looked at in the way that Gluskin stared at you, as if you were the incarnation of perfection, living and breathing, placed before him. You despised yourself, hated that you reveled in the way he worshipped you through eyes alone.

Foaming at the mouth, Eddie swarmed forward, brazenly stepping in between your legs, absentmindedly licking at his lower lip. “You’ve found your voice,” He purred, inhaling a gust of your saccharine scent. “Such a little whore, aren’t you? I find myself unsurprised,” Those strong hands curled into the waistband of your panties. “Always the quiet ones.”

You nearly choked, hands flying toward his biceps, thick and taut underneath the dirtied fabric of his dress shirt. You hoped that you weren’t thinking straight, prepared to excuse this all away by means of fear and intimidation, but you couldn’t — desire crept into your mind, poisoning all sense of coherency.

He kissed you then and there, devouring your mouth with a sloppy passion, if one could call it that. It was domineering, hellbent on making you fully succumb, but to your chagrin, you were reciprocating his kiss, clutching onto him for dear life. You were cursing yourself tenfold for this — maybe it didn’t matter now.

A sonorous groan fell upon your lips, and Gluskin didn’t remain static for very long. Wandering hands wrenched your panties aside, just enough for his fingers to deftly stroke at your slit. You gasped, hips involuntarily jolting into the sensation of his hand. It ignited a fire within the pit of your belly, a fire that now demanded to be extinguished.

“Darling,” Eddie hummed, brazenly licking at the corner of your mouth, “So soft, so …” He kissed you again, famished and in desperate need of your embrace, rutting his fingers into your clit. A grunt ripped past his throat when you ground yourself into his hand again. “So very needy, aren’t we? I’d like to remedy that.”

You wanted to beg so bad — you couldn’t. It would leave you stranded with nothing but regret if you did, but he touched you with such want that it sent you spiraling. You were going to surrender your virtue to this man — this monster, this deranged killer.

So be it, then. You were tossing caution to the wind.

After he stroked at your soaked cunt, he brought his fingers to his mouth, greedily sucking on glistening digits before he let out some strangled noise. “You taste divine,” He panted, clicking his tongue. “If you behave, perhaps your husband will reward you.” Gluskin growled, pressing a palm into your chest as he pushed you down.

Squirming and writhing atop the mattress, you listened to the unbuckling of his belt, watching him wrench his vest open, buttons ripping from their sockets. He was deliciously toned, some bulky mass of musculature, some of the scarring having made its way down his collarbone. You wanted to hate him, and you couldn’t.

You couldn’t.

“You are going to make an excellent mother,” Gluskin husked, hunching over you, animalistic and tangled up within his own fervor and fantasies. He spread your legs apart, teeth gnashing together as he freed his cock, unbearably hard and slathered with precum. “Swollen with my seed,” He groaned, guiding himself to your cunt. “A gift to be savored.”

He was going to break you in half — you had no idea of what to expect, but your lovesick paramour was very well-endowed. Gluskin was cunning enough to pick up upon the momentary terror that settled within your gaze, and he grunted, callously pushing his cock inside of you without much warning at all.

You whimpered, crying out in both shock and uncertainty, but after pain, came pleasure. It was all rushed — it lacked tact, it lacked any shred of romanticism, all falsified within the twisted mind of Gluskin. He set an uneven, sporadic pace from the very beginning, pent-up and needing you.

“Let me,” Each word was enunciated with the brutal thrust of his hips, cock driving into your tight cunt with no amount of gentleness. “Let me fill you up.” Eddie snarled, growing somewhat impatient as he attempted to find some sort of rhythm. One hand settled against the swell of your hips, thumb caressing along the side of your stomach.

A wanton moan tore past your lips as you held onto him for dear life, eyes squeezed shut, your stomach flooding with a rush of relief. Warmth pooled between your thighs, and the more your arousal grew, the easier it became for Gluskin to fuck you without much hindrance. It wasn’t perfect — it was a little uncomfortable, his pace, but you didn’t care.

Grunts and snarls emerged from the man above you, voice strained with exertion as he let his other hand tangle around your throat. His grasp wasn’t exactly suffocating, but it was far from tender, thumb pressing just above your pulse point. Wisps of air were stolen from your lungs, but not enough to draw concern.

Gluskin rutted into you like a man possessed, groaning all the while, wanting to cum inside of you so very terribly. He fantasized about what you might look like, doting and full with his child, providing him with the family he’d always craved. Lacking the proper upbringing, he would replace such neglect with you — with a new life, with his aspirations.

His mind turned salacious very quickly, beginning to focus on now — on stuffing you with his seed, fucking you until every shred of energy was expended. Your cunt clenched around his cock, and you sang to him with your symphony of needy whimpers and mewls, panting his name as if it were the only word you knew.

“You like this, don’t you?” Eddie rumbled, pervious to your arousal — your subdued demeanor had only given way to the festering desire inside of you as he destroyed your walls. “Oh, you whorish madonna,” An amorous chuckle escaped him, followed by a breathy growl. He didn’t pause, no stopping him as his cock battered your poor, abused cunt. “I want to hear you say it.” He snapped.

Gluskin had flipped a switch inside of you — you wanted this so badly. The life you desired had been stolen from you when your engagement broke into a thousand pieces, and now, he was giving you everything. Albeit, he went about it in such horrible ways, but you couldn’t keep lying. You loved this.

“I—I want you so bad,” You whimpered, unable to stop yourself, now. “Please,” Doing the one thing you wouldn’t do — beg. “Eddie, please, please,” He was filling you up, cock pumping inside of you over and over again, pulsating with heat, fucking you ragged. “Cum inside of me.” The rational side of you cried out in dismay, in disappointment — you elected to ignore it entirely.

The noise that Gluskin made sent shockwaves right into the pit of your stomach, soaked slit giving way to the brutality of his thrusts. He stooped down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, biting at the thin flesh, tasting a swarm of copper during the exchange. Eddie was frenzied, face burying itself into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin, marking what now belonged to him.

With a strangled moan, you rolled your hips into his, feeling his cock pound into you until it could go no further, stretching your cunt with his size. Stinging bruises and bloodied marks were littered across both neck and collarbone, accompanying your myriad of injuries received from the rest of the Asylum. His hand held your throat, pressing underneath your jaw.

“Darling,” Eddie nearly moaned, using whatever wave of strength he had left to obliterate you, fucking you so hard that you swore you saw stars. His cock lewdly slapped into your womb, aiming to fill you up, carrying out his goal of breeding you. “Such a sin, you filthy,” He panted, sticking two fingers into your mouth, “Filthy little slut.” He rasped.

Sputtering and choking around his fingers, you felt them press toward the back of your throat, and you wanted to fly off the edge. Gluskin’s cock didn’t stop, not for a second, fucking you into oblivion, pulsating with heat, making sure each thrust reached for your insides. The tension was climbing, the coil threatening to burst for the both of you.

The sight of you gagging and sucking on his fingers was what really did it — Gluskin saw right through you like a thin, threadbare veil. You were just as desperate as he was, and his lips curled into some devilish grin, throwing you off-guard. “You’ll be perfect,” He grunted, purring next to the shell of your ear, “I am going to make you perfect.” Eddie snarled, and that’s when you came undone.

You felt weightless, floating — you made a mess all over his cock, tendrils of drool leaking from the corners of your mouth as he kept his fingers lodged into your mouth. Tears stung at your eyes, and instead of fighting them off as you had for so long, you let yourself sob from the pleasure.

Eddie’s hips finally lost their unyielding brutality, stuttering as he came inside of you, buried so deep that you thought he’d snap you into two. Rope after rope of hot, virile seed pumped inside of you, coating your insides, leaving you unbelievably full. He rasped and grunted, hunched in above you as he bred you.

He was staring at you again, slowly drawing his fingers out of your mouth before wrenching his hand around your chin. The suddenness of his gesture took you by surprise, but this hold wasn’t nearly as painful as the one he’d executed earlier.

Gluskin kept himself inside of you, ensuring that his attempt at a legacy be sealed, thumb tracing across your bloodied lower lip. His countenance contorted into one of pure delusions, an unrestrained obsession, the swell of possessiveness that threatened to swallow you whole. He wrapped an arm underneath you, pressing you close to his chest, lips lingering next to the shell of your ear.

“In sickness and in health.”

#eddie gluskin x reader #eddie gluskin x you #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x you #slasher fanfiction #eddie gluskin #outlast #outlast fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #sunkendreams masterlist

2K notes · View notes

jmdbjk · 3 years ago

Text

My last nerve...

The chatter about no one supporting Jimin’s OST is false. The song is breaking records left and right, SOMEONE is supporting it.

I saw a ton of promotion and positivity happening on Twitter by Army. If you saw a lot of negativity, then you are following the wrong accounts. Can’t help you there. That’s on you.

The song was not a BigHit product therefore not their responsibility to promote. The entertainment company that produces the television show promoted it. Maybe not like all you suddenly expert public relations and marketing people on social media think it should have been, but they promoted it. The song is not the property of Jimin or Sungwoon. YamYam Entertainment were the executive producers. That means they hired PDogg, Jimin and Sungwoon for the song. Their main interest is promoting their television series. The song was part of that.

Be mad at Spotify but also be realistic. That app is not very organized. Never has been, so no surprise they were not timely in updating Jimin’s profile, not to mention the confusion to begin with because there are multiple artist accounts called “Jimin”. Was it done on purpose in order to diminish the song’s success? I highly doubt that, this is a billion dollar organization, why would they spend energy on trying to sabatoge one artist’s song? For what reason? Regardless, I don’t care for Spotify, it certainly isn’t the be-all, end-all of streaming services, but I suppose I only feel that way because I use Apple Music.

I understand the importance of song ranking and artist following numbers. The song is doing well, Jimin is doing well. But I understand fans want him to be #1 and his song to smash all records that can’t ever be broken again. I get it!

However, the story that came to light regarding the unpaid insurance incident definitely was timed to mar the songs release. I tend to ignore sources that are non-official when it comes to serious news.

But K-media sure is something else��this is how it’s gonna be huh? This is just me talking but if this group of 7 humans is generating over $5 BILLION USD to Korea’s gross domestic product I would think y’all would report better about them but that’s just me.

Unfortunately, Twitter played right into it and engaged wholeheartedly. They will never learn that in order to diffuse those sorts of things, you should ignore. They just added fuel to the fire they wanted to put out. And this is why this story is appearing on entertainment news outlets like Billboard News. Y’all made it a big deal. It’s a shame.

And anons here saying words that are not fully informed are just helping a topic stay alive even though it appears to have been resolved as well as perpetuating false information:

1. It’s been resolved (months ago). I already said that.

2. BigHit is aware of the situation, have taken responsibility and I am 100% certain people got fired and others got hired, security protocols have been re-evaluated, so there’s really nothing more to add to the discourse. Talking about just keeps it at the top of everyone’s mind.

3. If it’s a security or legal issue it sure as hell is none of our business. Stay out of it.

4. Whoever was the “whistleblower” did so in order to mar Jimin’s OST release. It all played out exactly as they planned because people thrive on drama and negativity.

And ya know another thing about that? Drama Llamas sometimes don’t even realize they are being a drama llama. They think the entire world is just like them. Because the box they live in is very tiny with high high walls that they can’t see over.

Learn to keep your mouth shut. I know it’s a challenge for some of you but really you should try harder to be a good human. People chattering about matters that SHOULD BE PRIVATE with all the gatekeeping and screaming about respecting their privacy...STOP TALKING OUT BOTH SIDES OF YOUR FUCKIN MOUTH.

Don’t get me wrong. I understand the outrage. We all love Jimin and want to protect him. We worry about him when we hear this kind of bullshit going on. But to trash his company, his friends, the other BTS members and even Jimin and Sungwoon because you don’t think they’ve done enough to promote the song or protect Jimin in general is wrong. Evil people will succeed in being evil as long as they can figure out a way. THAT’S WHY IT’S IMPORTANT FOR US TO BE GOOD HUMANS!

Just me posting this is whole rant is wrong but you guys plucked my last nerve on it.

Keep being mad and outraged if you want to but you aren’t helping Jimin or anyone else by doing that. You are just making yourself wallow in negativity and bringing down everyone else.

We have a lot of good fun things to look forward to. Let’s just move on already.

#y'all gone make me lose my mind up in here #stop the insanity #foolishness on twitter #anons be anonning

13 notes · View notes

papirouge · 3 years ago

Note

That article you posted about lesbians and pedophiles really resonated with me. Its something Ive observed over the years lurking on gay and lesbian blogs and so on when i was younger and thought i was bi. I remember that gay men would write about their first relationships being with older men on their 20s, 30s, 40s, even 50s when they were young teens, and while some were critical of it, a lot others recalled their memories with nostalgia and longing. And sadly, if someone dared criticize the older man for being a creep, these guys would get defensive and claim that there was nothing wrong with what happened, that the man treated them right and they consented to everything. On the other side, you got lesbians usually sharing about having their first relationships in their 20s and sometimes even in their 30s...

And Im not saying that every gay man was preyed on by an older gay man and that there are no lesbians predators, but one cannot deny that there are obvious patterns, and that is that theres an obvious pedo problem in the gay male community. And it isnt talked about anywhere but some communities exclusive to gay men, and sometimes by lesbians, which i guess its out of fear of being seen as homiphobic.

Some lesbians nowadays seem to try to gloss it over, but i think it's because they don't want gay men to turn against them (because sadly many gay men try to sweep this issue under the rug out of fear of homophobic backlash) due to the fact that gay men have more visibility and higher positions than lesbiana, thus they need their support if they want to achieve anything.

Also a little off topic, but youve been talking lately a lot about misogyny, female socialización and male approval, and i think this seems to be an issue even within gay spaces. Like Ive seen lesbians do the most for gay men while gay men barely even have the same energy for lesbians. Some even spout outright hatred towards them... Like a while ago this gay man said he wished lesbians would get r*ped straight by het men. Super sad.

You nailed it anon. I myself witness this creepy enabling or male abuse on gay relationship on twitter with people sharing their first sexual experience and it was with much older males.

Honestly this inclination to gloss over sex abuse and inappropriate age gap isn't exclusive to homosexual but men as a whole. There's this TikTok of a mature woman saying she hit on a boy who was a just graduating (so barely 18 y'o), and a few years later he came back to her and they hooked up. She had the age to be her mother.... And apparently the only people finding it inappropriate/predatory were women, while males cheered on that groomer and saying how lucky that boy was... Men are inherently more predatory than women / more prone to overlook/enable abuse, and that's the hill I'm going to die on. Sorry not sorry.

You're also right about the weird caping of lesbians towards gay male. I once made a post calling out Alfred Kinsey & his institutional pedophilia, and lesbians started freaking out bc the whistleblower exposing Kinsey endorsed a book which theory is that the Nazi regime used gay SS as a leverage for recruiting Nazi youth. They accused her, and then me of being homophobic... And I was like "girl.... is caping for gay nazi really the hill you wanna die on? 🙄" like, they were so caught up in the fact that some criticism was directed at gay men they totally overlooked the fact that these psychopath were nazi and didn't deserve any respect/defense whatsoever lmao Being gay doesn't make anyone above reproach IDC. I don't get what's homophobic to acknowledge that the nazi regime did weaponize gay men for their recruiting. As far as I know, they did the same for children and women.

I'm not familiar enough with LGB space but you might be right about women/lesbians being afraid of 'losing' men on their side if they started more straightforward in their criticism of their problematic behavior. Once again, regardless of their sexual attraction, females are always catering to males feelings....

I'm not surprised there are gay men being outright verbally abusive about women... I mean, look how 'straight' transwomen behave with women...

#answered

2 notes · View notes

mythgirlimagines · 3 years ago

Photo

I hope this talentswap is to your liking! Introducing the royal, loyal, slick and quick Myth, the Ultimate Gymnast!

————————————-——————

BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Being born in the Eurasian territory of Zaurius, Myth was born into a very high-class family that had slight connections to the Royal Family. Myth was usually tasked with entertaining the guests at banquets and other assorted events, and from there, Myth’s parents found out that she has unprecedented talent in gymnastics, with a particular speciality in rhythmic gymnastics, and is able to dazzle just about anybody with her beauty and grace. Upon the discovery of Myth’s skills, Myth’s parents signed her up for rhythmic gymnastic courses, and time after time again, Myth proved considerable skill with ribbons and batons, to the point that she has a near-unbeatable win streak in competitions, and was even chosen to represent Zaurius in the Olympics. With her stellar appearance and equally stellar skills, it’s not hard to see why. When the currently crowned Zaurian princess was scouted to attend Hope’s Peak as both an exchange student and the Ultimate Princess, Myth was soon invited alongside her childhood friend, as the Ultimate Gymnast, much to their mutual elation. Despite the burdening workload of both of their careers, they took well-deserved time off of their busy schedules to return to Hope’s Peak and chaperone this year’s Ultimates and Jr. Ultimates.

——————————————————-

RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Princess

One would expect the crowned princess of Zaurius to be calm, mature and dignified (so more like Myth), but Wyre is the complete antithesis of these expectations, being loud, uncouth and isn’t afraid of getting themself dirty. Despite these negative qualities being completely unbecoming of a crowned princess, they have excellent political and war acumen, which helped fight off political threats. Ever since Wyre was little and met Myth at a royal banquet, Myth and Wyre have been practically attached to the hip. Myth has always been like Wyre’s keeper, always making sure the reckless princess stays in one piece and out of trouble.

Outfit: Longer hair in a ponytail, a gold headband with a ruby in the center, the suit worn in their Picrew draft design, plus gold gauntlets and boots.

Anon Scar, Reserve Course Student

Despite acting like an evil overlord, this all belies a very intelligent girl that managed to get into Hope’s Peak on academic merit alone. Scar is a member of Hope’s Peak’s reserve course, and is currently studying to become a medical professional. Myth wonders if Scar’s behavior is a result of this “chuunibyou” phenomenon that she heard about during her travels to Japan, and is constantly baffled by Scar’s eccentric behavior and constant mentions of the occult. Scar remains stunned at Myth’s grace and elegance with her signature ribbon, and Myth regularly lets Scar practice treating wounds on both her and Wyre.

Outfit: An ahoge sprouting out of her sidebun, a white turtleneck sweater, a brown jacket slung over her shoulders like a cape, a brown skirt, black leggings, brown slip-on shoes.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Animator

Having been an animation fanatic ever since he was little, Fusion is famous for being the mastermind behind various animated edutainment series, which are famed for their educational content, fluid animation, and the lovable characters with adorable designs. Myth’s family usually watches high-class stage performances, so looking at Fusion’s work was really the first time that she ever saw an animated work, but she could tell that Fusion puts all of his big heart into his animation. Fusion regularly watches and records Myth’s exercise routines, in order to use as reference for the movement of his animated characters.

Outfit: A blue and silver hoodie with the Disney logo on the back over a black t-shirt with a Mickey Mouse head on the front, black artist gloves, glasses, pants and shoes from the original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Lucky Student

As the winner of Hope’s Peak’s yearly lottery system, Fusion II regularly tries to act cool and aloof around her peers and claim that she got her various wounds from fighting her enemies. In actuality, Fusion II has terrible luck and is notoriously clumsy, and gets injured from her regular pratfalls, with the lucky events coming right after to soften the blow. Fusion II’s sarcastic “bad-girl” facade can easily break to reveal the easily-embarrassed nerd that she truly is. Ashamed of her clumsiness and wanting to be cooler, Fusion II regularly arranges secret “gracefulness lessons” with Myth, and the two are making surprisingly remarkable progress.

Outfit: Messier hair with a long ahoge on top, black sunglasses that she has several copies of (in case her current pair breaks), a black leather jacket with a white clover design on the back over her lucky green t-shirt, ripped jeans with scraped knees, black boots to make herself look taller, bandages all over her person.

Just Anon, Ultimate Team Manager

Despite his own hatred for exercise or doing anything really, Janon is the manager for a whole barrage of sports teams, ranging from track to softball to even swimming. Despite his uncouth speech, cynical attitude, and claims towards the contrary, he has a soft spot for the young and blossoming athletes that he manages, and can’t help but tear up, whenever one of the athletes goes on to achieve bigger and better things. When Myth first heard that she was chaperoning the genius behind several prolific sports teams, she definitely wasn’t expecting such a lazy and cynical shizdoodle, but it’s very clear that Janon knows what he is doing.

Outfit: Hair tied back into a small ponytail, a black baseball cap on his head with a pink bunny clip on the right side, a pink and red tracksuit, his lucky silver whistle around his neck, red socks, white and black sneakers.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Yakuza

Despite being loud, eccentric, and having a flair for the dramatics, Sparkle comes from one of the most expansive and dangerous yakuza families in all of the country. When Myth and Wyre traveled to Japan, they were warned by their families to watch out for yakuza families, but it wasn’t until they chose to chaperone the yearly Kibo-Con tour that they actually managed to encounter an actual yakuza. Myth is used to seemingly eccentric people that secretly attempted to assassinate her, Wyre, or either of their families. Because of that, Myth tries her best to use her skills to avoid the hammy and dramatic yakuza heiress whenever possible.

Outfit: Hair shaved on one side, a black vest over a long-sleeved white dress shirt that has the left sleeve ripped off to reveal her sparkly tattoos, a brown trench coat that rests on her shoulders like a cape, black pants and matching shoes with red socks.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Traditional Dancer, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Swordfighter

Coming from one of the most traditional and influential families in all of Japan, Egg and Wet Sock are both masters in their respective traditional craft, Egg at traditional dancing, and Wet Sock at swordfighting, respectively. Despite living in an old-fashioned temple without any form of access to the internet, Egg and Wet Sock regularly spout out cursed comments and meme references that wouldn’t be out of place in a high-schooler’s chat log. Very little else is known about this elusive duo, for they don’t seem to speak much when participating in their respective hobbies. Out of the twins, Myth gets along better with Egg, thanks to their similar domains.

Outfits: Kimonos (black and purple for Wet Sock, and yellow and green for Egg), white socks and brown geta sandals, glasses from original design.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Chef

Despite starting out as the cook to a random backwoods diner, Curious’s cooking skills were so good that the backwoods diner grew and grew, until it became a high-class and 5-star restaurant. All the while, the polite and courteous Curious still is behind the counter and making only the greatest of meals, even after all of these years. Curious regularly cooks for everyanon at the Kibo-Con, much to everybody’s (Fusion, especially) delight. Whenever the chef cooks, Myth can’t help but be reminded of her family’s personal chefs, who make only the classiest in delicacies. For that reason, the young culinary prodigy endears Myth on a personal level.

Outfit: Hair pulled back in a small ponytail, a white chef’s outfit with a green cravat and matching pants, brown shoes.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Gamer

The sheer epitome of “Angry Video Game Nerd”, Nerd’s rage is truly unavoidable, if he either breaks his win streak or if he encounters a game-breaking glitch. Many controllers, televisions and computers have been broken in his fits of rage. Despite all of this, he is an expert at any sort of e-sports. When put next to each other, Myth and Nerd are like chalk and cheese, especially when you compare their temperaments and domains of their talents. Because of this, Myth and Nerd share a mutual dislike of each other. Myth thinks that Nerd should control his rage and act like more of a gentleman, and Nerd is envious of Myth’s coolheadedness.

Outfit: Messier hair and eyebags, red and grey headphones, a black hoodie with a Space Invader design on the front, black sweatpants, brown sandals.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Photographer

Wishing to expose the world for the terrible and dystopian wasteland that it is and waking the blind masses up to the inevitable apocalypse and collapse of the world as we know it, Eldritch uses his small height and his camo-patterned clothes to sneak into buildings and take pictures of the businesses there committing unethical practices. Because Myth is “bourgeois scum“, according to the photographer and whistleblower, Eldritch seems intent on exposing Myth for the “corrupt magnate” that she allegedly is, and always tries to snap pictures of Myth in “compromising positions much to the confusion of the high-class gymnast.

Outfit: A camo-colored hooded jumpsuit and matching gloves, boots, face paint and Polaroid camera.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Musician

As the leader, guitarist and lead vocalist of the band “Power Spike”, Dream’s cheerful and determined personality, along with her sheer skill at playing music, has earned her a massive following in the world of rock music. Myth usually listens to classical music, when she is practicing her ribbon-dancing routines. Listening to Power Spike’s music was an entirely new experience for her, and it gave her new ideas for new ribbon-dancing routines, and for that, Myth thanks Dream, much to the young rocker’s delight. Dream really wants Myth to be a backup dancer and choreographer for Power Spike’s concerts, to which Myth might possibly accept in the future.

Outfit: Wild hair with streaks dyed pink and blue, a purple leather jacket over an orange shirt with Power Spike’s logo on the front, purple fingerless gloves with nails altering between pink and blue, a purple denim skirt, grey and black striped stockings, purple boots.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Nurse

Having been superbly clumsy ever since she was little, Iris took it upon herself to patch up and treat her bumps, bruises and boo-boos, before eventually moving on to patching up her friends and eventually deciding that she should work to become a professional doctor. By her middle school years, Iris became a full-fledged nurse and was regarded as a prodigy by her college-aged classmates. Iris regularly likes to give health tips to Myth, before she starts some of her more strenuous performances and routines. Myth regularly performs ribbon tricks at the hospitals that Iris volunteers at, and the smiles of the children were simply unforgettable.

Outfit: Two barrettes shaped like red crosses, an oversized white labcoat over a blue t-shirt, a black pencil skirt, black stockings, red Mary Janes, glasses from original design.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Mechanic

Despite Purple’s fancy and eccentric mode of dress and equally-fancy vocabulary, Purple is an unparalleled expert, when it comes to repairing mechanical devices. Purple would much rather stay in her workshop all day, than interact with her clients, for she is painfully timid and socially-inept. Myth has heard of Purple’s works and heard that her repairs can go for quite the fortune and rich business magnates speak well of her repairs, and always wanted to meet her. But it seems that Myth’s seemingly cold-hearted attitude and sheer gracefulness just scared the timid mechanical genius away, much to the confusion of the gymnast.

Outfit: A black and purple top hat with brown goggles on top, a black vest over a purple dress shirt and a matching cape, a black skirt, black stockings brown gloves and boots.

This AU will center around this aloof gymnast just constantly wowing people and being damn proud of it!

——————————————————-

PERSONALITY

Thanks to coming from a very influential family, Gymnast!Myth is calm and disciplined, in both her gymnastics and the way she behaves around others. Gymnast!Myth is calm and hospitable, which clearly came from her childhood days spent entertaining guests, always treating people with respect and dignity, regardless of their class and reactions towards her performances. That being said, Gymnast!Myth just loves to flex and boast about her skills to anyone willing to hear them, and you could hardly have a conversation with her without her showing off one of her many gymnastic skills. Gymnast!Myth often functions like a keeper or even a motherly figure to a majority of the other Anons, which came from years of disciplining Princess!Wyre.

——————————————————-

APPEARANCE

Gymnast!Myth ties her naturally-brown hair in a tight bun on the back of her head with a bunch of purple bobby-pins that resemble flowers and wears a black and bi-flag-colored leotard with transparent sleeves patterned by lace flowers. To not reveal too much, she covers up the lower part of her leotard with a sparkly black skirt. On her legs, Myth wears black thigh-high “boots”, that are actually just thigh-high socks that get firmer on the bottom. She is hardly seen without her prized ribbon, which is colored like the bisexual pride flag.

——————————————————-

I hope you like this talentswap! Let me hear your opinions on it!

3 notes · View notes

kennedysharper · 4 years ago

Note

me, watching the last two episodes of Infinite Darkness: leon leon stop, they have a point here. leon, dont be a bootlicker, they're whistleblowers, come on dude.

*cracks knuckles*

tbh anon, I can totally understand both sides in this, like leon's and claire's... it's just, the thing is, leon is a protector at his core, it's his one trait the one thing he promised he'd always do no matter what. he's not a bootlicker, he knows there's corruption there, he was in RC, he hates what the government did there, but it's just like he said himself "you cannot save a country if you don't give a damn about the people in it". I think he didn't give the chip to claire and went public with it all bc he doesn't want people to be terrified like he was in RC bc going public would cause worldwide terror and let's be honest, it wouldn't end the problem at all not in the short term at least...

but like I said, I understand both sides (this is not marvel's civil war lol), I understand claire wanting to go public and getting at least some immediate justice for some of the shit that happened...

and also thinking logically, I was reading an interview the director and the writer gave to ign japan and they said that the ID story couldn't be something too big bc if it was too big it had to be mentioned in the games somehow since ID happens in 2006 but since time travel is not a thing yet... you know what they mean? so yeah if they went public with it, it'd be a fucking huge thing in RE lore so yeah... but let us see! they're experimenting with ID, maybe we get a season 2? maybe another movie sequel soon? leon and claire starring revelations 3? a girl can dream... I'm just hoping really hard that we get a follow up somehow!

and just one more thing is that no I didn't like at all that leon and claire kinda "fought" at the end and parted ways in not so friendly terms but their relationship is stronger than some bumps it may find along the way, that's just how life is, it has its ups and downs, even tho they want the same thing at the end of the day, they walk very different paths so it's only logical some disagreement would happen from time to time but I am very confident they will get through this and be in good terms again!

btw the writer and director also said we should pay close attention to that conversation at the end so.... maybe there's more than meets the eye here...(I can't find the interview in english but here's the original in jp and a pt-br translation)

#sorry it got long-ish but yeah #jay talks #RE:ID #id spoilers

3 notes · View notes

malewifehenrycooldown · 5 years ago

Note

☀️ My type is Problematic Favs:tm: that inevitably destroy everything they touch, that are also authority figures.

Ahh problematic faves, I feel you on this anon, I feel this.

I actually have a few options so I hope you don’t mind!!

Wilson Fisk (Marvel’s Daredevil)

Please don’t let this man's appearance fool you, if anything it’s a perfect front for the kind of man Fisk is. He is honourable, intelligent, strong, devoted and cares about the city he lives in. He has everything, money, status and political power. Practically everything you could want! He is a well made business man with a taste in the fine arts and for food! He’s a good cook (he makes the best omelets!!) and enjoys dining out!! He’ll surely treat you right! If you need help with something he’ll gladly assist!

Sure he has ties to the criminal underworld, has some anger issues and has attempted to get other people to do his bidding, but he is nevertheless an ideally devoted lover!! (RIP if anyone dares interrupt your date).

But if a powerful business man does not suffice, perhaps try a more ‘‘progressive’ leader;

Vivienne Rook (BBC’s Years and Years):

Vivienne is a businesswoman, prime minister and all round controversial leader of the UK. She doesn’t give a shit what people think about her opinions, and she certainly doesn’t mind the spotlight the media gives her. Whether you agree or disagree with her views, you cannot help but stop and think about what she has to say about the world and the country. Her charm and charisma knows no bounds. She knows how to get people on her side, regardless of the words that come out of her mouth, you’ll be entrapped into believing and rooting for her, her party and her cause before you can even look critically at her policies. Her party has her own tv channel, and she’s gonna do her best to Make Britain Great Again!

The price of loving these figures means you have to come to terms of going down with them when the truth comes out. It’s hard to stop a whistleblower from speaking the truth. Know that the ideals of these leaders inevitably harm the people that they constantly reassure the public that they are helping.

(Other suggestions: Light Yagami & Teru Mikami (from Death Note), ones a detective who wants to be god, the other is a prosecutor who aspires to serve under said god. It ends up costing their lives to fulfil those ideals)

Hopefully these suggestions are okay!! They aren’t world ending-level scenario problematic but they are still very human and have a lot of power at their fingertips!!

#ask me anything #assigned f/o game #anon asks #f/o suggestions #Answered Questions #answered asks

1 note · View note

jerseydeanne · 5 years ago

Text

Dems wanted impeachment? They got it!

Goodwin: Impeachment trial is the ace up President Trump’s sleeve

Here’s my slam-dunk choice for the Quote of the Year: “I want a trial.”

The President of the United States said that Friday morning, and his title alone would be reason enough to make it the most significant thing said in 2019. But there’s much more to it because Donald Trump’s demand highlights the historically unique set of circumstances he and the nation face in 2020.

As of now, the new year will feature an impeachment trial in the Senate followed by the presidential election. If Trump survives Democrats’ effort to remove him, he would be the first impeached president to face voters again.

Andrew Johnson, impeached in 1868, was later denied his party’s nomination for a second term. Bill Clinton won his second term before he was impeached.

While there’s some skepticism that Trump really wants to put everything on the line over allegations involving his dealings with Ukraine, I’m convinced he’s serious.

I’m also convinced he’s crazy like a fox. Given the flimsy allegations and the unfair, one-party nature of the House process, beating impeachment in the Senate seems close to a sure thing. And doing so would dramatically boost Trump’s chances of getting four more years.

Indeed, it’s probable that as impeachment goes, so goes the election.

Of course, there’s no question Trump would much prefer the House not brand him with the “I” word, but that’s a pipe dream.

If Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Rep. Adam Schiff can’t muster 218 votes on a set of articles after five long days of public testimony and hyperbolic assertions that the president is an existential threat to the world, Trump will claim he’s been exonerated. Who could blame him?

Pelosi can’t let that happen, having picked her poison by embracing the whistleblower complaint before she saw the transcript of Trump’s call with the president of Ukraine. Turning back now is not an option, so she’ll beg, bribe and twist the arms of any reluctant Dems to get to 218.

That vote will probably come in December, with a Senate trial starting in January.

There, the president will enjoy all the advantages Schiff denied him in the House’s kangaroo court. Most important, Trump starts with 53 GOP senators in the jury, and with a super-majority of 67 votes required for conviction, Dems need to flip 20 of them. That assumes they can hold all Democrats, which is not certain.

In addition to Trump having home-field advantage, a Senate trial, presided over by Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts, would be expected to follow federal rules on evidence and procedures.

One clear change from the House: no hearsay testimony. Thus, much of what passed for evidence there — and spurred the most sensational headlines — would not be permitted in the Senate.

For another, Trump’s lawyers would have wide latitude in a witness list and would use it to turn the tables on Democrats, the resistance and the Bidens. Trump likes nothing more than being on offense, and his aim would be to put his accusers on trial.

Already the president has named three people he wants grilled, starting with Hunter Biden and his lucrative gig on the board of Burisma, a corrupt Ukrainian energy company, while his father was vice president.

Some sample questions Hunter Biden can expect:

Is it true you were discharged from the Navy for cocaine use months before being named to Burisma in 2014?

Do you speak Ukrainian?

What do you know about energy exploration and markets?

How many board meetings did you attend?

Is it true you were paid more than $3 million over five years?

How much more?

Did you discuss the job with your father?

Did you ask your father to intercede in Ukrainian politics to help Burisma?

Joe Biden is already showing the strains, blasting Sen. Lindsey Graham for asking the State Department for documents relating to Joe Biden’s calls with Ukraine’s then-president and his own documented efforts to oust a prosecutor.

“Lindsey is about to go down in a way that I think he’s going to regret his whole life,” Joe Biden told reporters.

Actually, you would assume Biden might be filled with regret, given the shameful way his son profited from his father’s position.

Moreover, there are legitimate questions about the 2016 anti-Trump campaign waged by Ukrainian officials and oligarchs, which included millions of dollars in contributions to the Clinton Foundation. Were the payments to Hunter Biden and the foundation aimed at buying Democrats’ silence over Ukrainian corruption? What does Joe Biden know about that effort?

Trump also wants to call Schiff, and GOP lawyers believe there is ample precedent. They note that Bill Clinton’s lawyers grilled independent prosecutor Ken Starr during Clinton’s Senate trial.

Schiff acted as chief prosecutor against Trump and his dealings with the whistleblower would make him a key witness to the initial allegations.

Trump also wants the whistleblower to be named and forced to testify because he had no first-hand knowledge of the president’s Ukraine call. Some of the initial allegations were proven false by the transcript and some of the whistleblower’s sources might have broken the law. His links to Dems could also undermine his assertions about Trump.

A fourth possible witness would be Mark Zaid, one of the whistleblower’s attorneys. Zaid tweeted in January 2017 that a “coup has started” and that “impeachment will follow ultimately.” Trump has called Zaid a “disgrace” and suggested he should be sued for treason.

Naturally, a trial poses risks to Trump as well. New evidence and witnesses could emerge, chief among them John Bolton, the former national security adviser Trump fired. Bolton is writing a book on his time in the White House and dropping hints he’s eager to air dirty laundry.

There is also the danger that, even if Trump beats back the effort to remove him, a trial could dirty him enough that he loses at the ballot box next November.

For now, though, the president has picked a path that appears to give him the upper hand. As he likes to say, we’ll see what happens.

/by Micheal Goodwin/

We are winning! Trust the plan!

Thank you anon for your submittal, 😎🥰💋

#dems #impeachment #good luck with that #submission

2 notes · View notes

tpthvegebulevents · 7 years ago

Text

MAYHEM 2018 - WEEK 2 - [ANON A] “THE FINAL PRICE” (2)

Title: The Final Price

Genre: Thriller

Rating: E

Warnings: Profane language; Nudity; Torture; Character death.

Summary: Vegeta fights to keep Bulma safe as malevolent forces creep closer towards her, leading her to make another wish. However, they discover that things may not be as simple as a human conspiracy, as something about Bulma may have been intricately tied into Vegeta's past, as well.

Chapter 3: The Mysterious Blue Moon

(Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8)

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

The attack was over in seconds.

Bulma was unable to tear her gaze away as Prince Vegeta flew towards her fleeing attackers, teeth bared in fury, and a scream lodged in her throat as she watched him effortlessly tear their heads off with his bare hands.

She stared, almost as if in a trance, as the decapitated heads rolled towards her feet.

She noted with morbid fascination that the eyes were left wide open, mouths frozen in their horrified screams as they watched certain death charge at them in the form of an utterly enraged warrior prince.

Prince Vegeta had paused, then turned around, his eyes landing on the petrified, dark-haired woman huddled in the corner, her eyes wide in horror as she watched a single man easily dismember her large comrades within the blink of an eye.

He walked slowly towards her, seemingly relishing the terrified stuttering of the woman who seemed too scared to move.

“P-p-please,” Mai was begging. “No. Don’t k-kill me! I can help you! Have mercy!”

Within a second, the Prince was upon Mai, holding her by the hair as he levitated, so she dangled helplessly above the ground, trying vainly to twist free from his grasp but unable to even budge from the strength of his grip.

“Mercy?” Prince Vegeta growled, the sound guttural and utterly hair-raising in his fury. “You were about to stand back and watch in glee as another female is violently defiled before you.”

He shook her viciously, and Mai gargled as her breath was knocked from her lungs, cringing in fear when the Prince shoved his face before her.

“What measure of mercy would you be deserving of?!” He hissed, raising his free hand, forming a ball of red energy that sizzled and sparked as he pushed it near her face.

She recoiled, and Bulma stared, half curious and half horrified as the Prince threatened the dark-haired woman.

“Please! I can … I can tell you who’s responsible. He commissioned me, Pilaf and Shu. He told us to kill the Blue Moon!”

The ball of light from Prince Vegeta’s hand suddenly dissipated, and he dropped the woman to the ground.

Bulma looked up at him and realized that the Prince looked… shocked.

She herself was confused. “The Blue Moon?” she thought, as she wrapped her arms around her bare breasts, curling her legs close to her body to cover her nudity.

The Prince floated down until he was inches from the criminal, who was now shaking, tears flowing down her face as she looked in abject terror at the glowing man before her.

“Speak. What do you know of the Blue Moon?” he demanded, his voice deceptively soft.

“That was what he called Bulma Briefs,” Mai replied throatily. “Kind of like his codename for her. He kept saying that we had to stop her from setting him free.”

“Setting him free? You mean, my father?” Bulma asked as she finally found her voice.

She glanced at the Prince, only to see him clenching his hands into fists, and she couldn’t help but notice that the glow around him kept growing even brighter.

Before Mai can answer her, Prince Vegeta stepped forward, blocking her view of Mai as he addressed her in a voice colder than ice.

“What is his name?”

“The conspiracy is being handled by Ginyu Lewis, he is responsible for Briefs being in jail,” Mai said.

Bulma gasped, finally putting together the last bits of scattered information that she had retrieved.

It made so much sense.

Lewis had been the supposed whistleblower, an English banker who held all the evidence, and she had long suspected that he was hiding a long paper trail behind a fake one that he had made to implicate her father.

Her thoughts halted when she heard the Prince yelling at the woman.

“I don’t give a fuck about Lewis! I need the name of the man trying to destroy the Blue Moon!”

Bulma reared up in shock. “What… what is going on? Prince Vegeta…”

He ignored her, leaning down to violently shove Mai, pinning her to the ground with a powerful hand wrapped around her neck. “Tell me the name of the man who pulls Lewis’ strings. Now!”

Mai whimpered, hissing as his fist began to glow red once more, and Bulma realized that the power within his hand was burning Mai.

“Give me his Earth name! Now!” the Prince screamed as he shook the woman, lolling her around like a rag doll.

Mai looked at him blearily, clearly in pain, as she whispered, “Cold. His name is Cold.”

As soon as the words left her lips, Prince Vegeta’s fists grew an angry scarlet hue, and Mai screamed in agony, trying in vain to push him off her as his hand began to ignite.

His hand burst into flames without warning, enveloping Mai in a fantastical display of tremendous power, and in less than a second, her entire body was gone… obliterated by the flames of the Prince’s power.

Bulma stared in shock, cowering into a corner of the room as she stared at the Prince, cringing back as he turned to regard her.

In a second, he was beside her, his hands hovering over her shuddering form, and Bulma closed her eyes as she thought of the ferocious flames that disintegrated the dark-haired woman before she could even deign to scream.

True terror overwhelmed her at the feel of his heat, and she remembered his ferocious snarls as he dismembered the two men before he also killed the female criminal.

She closed her eyes, whimpering as she felt his hand on her head, skimming her blue hair.

She felt him hold her face in his hands, and she realized that he was handling her with utmost care as he tried to make her uncurl from her fetal position against the wall.

“Bulma,” she heard him whisper. “Bulma, look at me. Open your eyes and calm yourself. I am not here to harm you.”

She peeked an eye open, and she noted with astonishment that the earlier furious red glow around him had dissipated, leaving behind a soft, golden light that shined like a halo around his form.

His hands were gentle as he pulled her, holding her wrists away from her body so he could asses her with his bright green eyes.

“Let me see you. Are you injured?” he asked, and Bulma shook her head, unable to speak.

He snapped his fingers, and a long red cloak appeared in his hands. He draped the cloak over her nudity, and her eyes misted over as she spotted the unmistakable concern in his face.

“I am glad that you called for me. Though I wish you had done so sooner, before they…”

He trailed off, and all of a sudden, everything that had happened to her, all that had nearly happened, and the deaths that surrounded her at that very moment rushed into her head, clouding her mind with gruesome images that she knew she could never, ever forget.

Her eyes met his as the tears began to flow once again, and she began to shake as all the fear, disgust, anger and grief from the past few minutes washed over her, threatening to drown her as her tiny body fought hard to manage everything that she had experienced.

Before she knew it, she was wrapped in the Prince’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably into his armored chest as her arms curled desperately around his neck.

She cried, loud, ugly heaves wracking her as she screamed, cursing at the gods, the people who had destroyed their lives, and the people who had gone so far as to try to end hers.

All the while, the fearsome warrior prince who had the power to destroy a human being with less than a single hand just held her, letting her use him as she mourned her ruined life and the deaths that she now felt responsible for.

It felt like hours, but she finally felt the tears begin to run out, and as she sobbed brokenly against Prince Vegeta, she felt his warm hands caressing her back, soothing her softly as he whispered foreign words of comfort into her ear.

When she had finally calmed down, she looked into his eyes, losing herself in the now-obsidian orbs, and she realized with a start that he had powered down from his god-like form and was now back in his dark-haired state.

“P-Prince Vegeta-” she began, but he cut her off with a soft but stern word.

“Vegeta,” he whispered. “Call me Vegeta.”

She nodded, nuzzling her face into his chest as the tenderness behind his softly-spoken words sent tendrils of delight through her chest, unfurling within her petrified heart.

“Vegeta,” she tried again, a small hiccup making her voice catch in her throat. “Thank you.”

She felt him nod against her head, even as a slight stiffness went through him.

“There is no honor in forcing oneself upon a woman,” he growled. “I, along with my men, have hunted down and destroyed countless civilizations… but I would never condone this putrid violation.”

A shudder went through her as she began to understand exactly what kind of person Vegeta was.

He was a warrior prince. A true conqueror, who had formidable power that could wipe out people, perhaps cities, with a single well-aimed blaze. He was a terrifying force of nature, but in spite of his awesome strength, he was honorable, a man of his word.

And right now, he was her rock… the only thing keeping her fragile self from shattering into a million pieces.

“What… what should we do about those… those men?” she asked, thinking of the headless corpses that she knew was just a few feet away from her.

He pulled away from her, and she watched as he lifted a hand, pushed his magnificent power into the tips of his fingers, before he aimed at the scattered bodies, making them disappear.

He turned his hand to the bloody sack near the doorway, and Bulma choked as she watched him disintegrate that as well, and her heart felt heavier than lead as she thought of poor little Dende, who had lost his life due to these ridiculous machinations.

Vegeta moved again, gathered her into his arms, carrying her effortlessly as she curled into his chest.

He lifted a hand to his forehead, two fingers raised, and Bulma felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her before she suddenly found herself within the safe confines of her tiny apartment.

He set her down to sit on her bed, before he opened her cabinet and pulled out a shirt and a pair of loose pants.

“Get dressed,” he whispered. “Your mother is cooking. I believe it would not be a good idea to let her know of tonight’s events.”

Vegeta turned around as Bulma dressed, and she called out to him once she was decent.

They both peeked around the thin wall, finding Panchy flittering around the tiny kitchen and dining area, which was separated from the tiny living room by a thin divider.

“I shall leave now,” Vegeta whispered.

“No!” Bulma cried, grabbing his arm in a tight, white-knuckled grip. “Stay, please… I… I’m still scared, Vegeta.”

“I can’t let your mother see me, woman,” he answered. “However, I assure you… I will not stray far. And the moment she falls asleep, I shall come to you.”

She nodded reluctantly, letting go of his arm. “Tonight then… and please be ready because…”

Bulma swallowed, opting to speak before either her nerves got the best of her, or her brain realized that she was about to give in to a very stupid idea.

“Vegeta, later tonight, I will make another wish.”

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

The moon was high in the sky, looking forlornly down at Bulma as she opened the door out into the rooftop.

She took a deep breath, summoning her courage as she held her amulet, and softly called out.

“Vegeta.”

He materialized before her, and Bulma noted that he was still in his dark-haired form. However, he was now wearing a sinister grin, and he cracked his knuckles, as if in anticipation of a good fight.

“I expect to bathe in the blood of an Englishman tonight, woman,” he remarked, a feral gleam in his eyes.

Bulma shook her head, looking him dead in the eye as she spoke.

“I don’t wish for Lewis to die, Vegeta. At least, not now. However, I want to bring him to ruin,” she said vehemently, seething at the thought of the man who had caused her so much misery.

If she were being completely honest with herself, a bloodthirsty part of her wished so much to have Vegeta kill him… but that would not serve the purpose she needed.

“Vegeta… I wish for him to confess to every single wrongdoing that implicated my father into this mess. I wish… I wish for my father to be proven innocent, immediately. Can you do that?”

Vegeta’s grin widened, before he began to glow once again, his hair and eyes changing back into the menacing gold and green that she had first seen him in. He raised his hands, and Bulma watched as a small orb of power once again gathered between his palms.

The orb cast light upon their faces, and it began to grow until it was a sphere twice as large as the one he made during her first wish.

“You wish for the complete confession of Ginyu Lewis, to exonerate your father from the crimes he did not commit. In return, I shall add this debt to the one you already owe me, and the final price shall be named at a later time. Do you accept these terms?”

Bulma nodded, resolute.

She needed her father to be freed.

The cost of the final price be damned.

“Yes,” she responded. “I, Bulma Briefs, accept these terms.”

Vegeta smirked, smacking his hands together, as if crushing the orb of light, before thin slivers of red light flew from between his fingers, heading out in the direction of the main city.

He stared at her, unblinking, before he hissed.

“It shall be done.”

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

The morning news exploded as the unbelievable confession of Ginyu Lewis became the most trending international headline of the year.

The man brought forth every single financial document that he had in his possession, a look of terror in his eyes as he voluntarily owned up to every single embezzlement scheme that he had spearheaded, implicating over twenty different politicians in what has become apparent was a widescale scheme that spun the government’s funds around aimlessly until it landed in a corrupt official’s pocket.

Within a week of the confession, all of the guilty parties had been arrested.

Trunks Briefs was exonerated, all charges dropped, accompanied by a public apology from the Supreme Court and a large settlement equivalent to ten times the amount he had been accused of embezzling.

But all those had been nothing compared to the unparalleled joy on the haggard scientist’s face as he was finally reunited with his wife and daughter.

Once their properties and finances were released, Bulma promptly gave a huge sum of money to the owners of the diner she had been working at, as her way of expressing her gratitude to them for hiring her at a time when no one else will.

The employees of Capsule Corp were ecstatic to have the family back, and the Briefs used the settlement money to provide a bonus to all the employees who stayed with them through the months of embargo.

Bulma cut herself off from all of her so-called friends, none of whom had been brave enough to stand by her in her time of need, and threw her ex-boyfriend, Yamcha, out of the Briefs compound a second after he set foot within the premises. He too, had left her when she needed him, and she had no use for a man who could not support her during the worst moments of her life.

There was, however, one man that did, even though he wasn’t exactly a man.

Bulma called upon Vegeta every day as she began to settle back into her old routine.

His silent grins and scoffed remarks kept her on her toes, and Bulma realized that having the strange warrior spirit around her filled her with a profound sense of comfort that she had never felt with anyone before.

He was strangely protective of her, hovering in the shadows, and she welcomed his slight intrusions as he slowly injected himself into her daily activities.

It was like having a friend who you could literally depend on to save your life, and it didn’t take long at all before Bulma realized that he had turned into her most trusted and valued acquaintance.

It certainly did not hurt that the man was absolutely striking, and she had seen enough of him to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that every single inch of his amazing body was molded to perfection, a canvas of sculpted muscles and delicious caramel skin.

It almost made her forget that he was a man capable of leveling cities, and had the uncanny ability to manifest anything he needed with a literal snap of his fingers.

She only wished that he would just tell her what the price that he wanted was, since her dread of the inevitable payment put a damper on her happiness, as she kept wondering what he could possibly want from her, and why he was taking so long asking her for it.

She almost feared that his price was so high, that even he was reluctant to charge her.

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

On a tiny island far from the cities, was a small house that was occupied by a very old man and his elder sister.

The small house, to any ordinary man, was a simple little yellow bungalow that hid beneath the shade of a single palm tree.

What the ordinary man wouldn’t know though, was that the tiny home hid a small dark door that served as a portal that opened up into the netherworld…

And guarding that portal, was the elder sister… a tiny woman with faded pink hair, and piercing red eyes that saw centuries’ worth of mysteries from the depths of her large crystal ball.

Uranai held the crystal ball in her hands, concentrating on locating the last of the men.

The Prince would be needing them all, he was so close…

She had guarded the ball for years, waiting for the one who could set him free. And she knew that the prince was one step closer to reaching his goal.

A bountiful award awaited her, if she succeeded in assisting him.

The sensation of a great power erupted from behind her, alerting her to the arrival of the most formidable force that she had ever encountered.

She grinned. Her sources at the netherworld had been correct. The Prince truly was, awe-inspiring.

“Oi. Uranai,” his low voice called as she turned, facing the Prince.

Prince Vegeta stood in his usual battle armor, a golden glow surrounding his body, before he powered down before her, returning to the form that was native to all people of his race.

The dark hair and dark eyes of the mighty Saiyans.

“I have gathered them, my Lord. The last one, Son Goku, known to you as Kakarot, is on his way here from his home in the mountains. He has a son, but he is too young to join you…”

“A young son? How was this possible, there are no Saiyan females anymore…” the Prince asked in clear astonishment.

“A Saiyan-Earthling hybrid. Kakarot, had managed to marry an earthling and have a child with her. The child, Kakarot says, has amazing potential, but is not old enough to fight for you.”

Prince Vegeta glanced away. “Interesting…”

“You can truly rebuild the Saiyan race here, if you wish, Prince Vegeta.”

“There is no need for that. We need only to follow the intended plan.” he answered, turning away from Uranai. “Besides, there is no Earthling female that interests me.”

The crone straightened at the Prince’s last words. There was a strange edge to his statement, a defensive sort of anger that did not escape the old woman’s attention.

“Could it be…” thought Uranai.

“How fares the girl, Prince Vegeta?” she asked, slyly hiding her suspicions from the now-distracted Saiyan.

A very small, nearly unnoticeable smile graced the Prince’s lips before he wiped it away with a scowl.

“She is the one, Uranai. The Blue Moon. I feel it in her, screaming from every pore. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her.”

“Then what is taking you so long, My Lord? You have been biding your time for months…”

“Do not question me, crone,” he snapped. “I have my reasons.”

“You realize that for you to be restored fully, you need her to-”

“I know what I need to do!” he shouted, angrily turning to her, fists blazing with flames in his aggravation. “But I still need time. There would be no use rushing into it if the living Saiyans are not even complete yet.”

“It is up to you, My Lord,” she responded, bowing low at the display of his power.

“I shall defeat the monster who destroyed my people, Uranai. And I will definitely use the Blue Moon to achieve that goal. You need only to do what I have asked you to do, and I shall take care of the rest,” he growled, before he flared into a massive ball of energy and shot out of the tiny house amid a furious flurry of fire and wind.

Uranai frowned as the Prince flew off. Looking at the Prince now, she realized that the Blue Moon, as much as they needed her, may potentially cause them a problem, as well.

Unless Prince Vegeta does what he needs to do with the Blue Moon, all their carefully-constructed plans will fail…

And it would not do at all, for the Prince to fail this time.

I.i.I.i.I.i.I.i.I

To be continued…

Read Previous / Read Next

#tpthvegebulmayhem2018 #week2mayhem2018 #tpth #anon a #thriller #fantasy #ratedE #violence #character death #fanfiction #mayhem #smut #au #romance #horror #dark #fluff #trigger

23 notes · View notes

lopezdorothy70-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Ex US Dept. Of State Official Says Existence Of Elite Pedophile Rings Are “NOT Shocking!”

Steve Pieczenik is a former United States Department of State official and a Harvard trained psychiatrist with a doctorate in international relations from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT). He held many roles within the US political system, including as the Deputy Assistant Secretary of State under Henry Kissinger, Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, Ronald Regan and George H.W. Bush.

Now, if you've done research into US politics, being associated with names like Kissinger and Bush automatically raise a red flag. What's even more concerning is that he was a member of the Council on Foreign Relations, a group many consider to be 'wicked' while hiding behind good deeds. However, he was removed from the membership as early as October 2012, which was around the same time he started to “blow the whistle.”

Not everyone from 'within' is part of this strange clique that many people are becoming aware of today. The clique that Donald Trump doesn't seem to be part of, which is a huge step, and is something we haven't seen for a long time. That's not to say we support his presidency whatsoever, we're just stating that he doesn't seem to be part of the Deep State. Nevertheless, many from within are starting to have a shift in consciousness, and feel a deep need to let the public know what's really going on.

Despite his credentials, Pieczenik's statements have gone completely ignored by mainstream media. In 1982, Pieczenik was mentioned in a New York Times article as “a psychiatrist who has treated C.I.A. employees.” In 2001, he operated as chief executive officer of Strategic Intelligence Associates, a consulting firm.

He's been an insider for years and is one of many from within who have a much clearer idea of what is going on behind the scenes, despite the narrative that's controlled and televised by the establishment's media mouthpieces.

Pieczenik is a legend for speaking his truth, and he deserves to at least be listened to.

It's interesting to review how 'elite level pedophilia' hit the mainstream over the past couple years, bringing up Pizzagate at first, which was quickly labelled a 'conspiracy theory,' and then again when the 'Q anon' phenomenon began to surface, which mainstream media brushed off as a 'conspiracy' yet again.

You don't have to look far to see that this kind of thing isn't a conspiracy theory. The victims are starting to come forward, and people like Pieczenik are speaking up about it. Not long ago, an MSNBC news report even implicated Hillary Clinton in covering up a pedophile ring within the state department.

A lot of this is simply labelled as 'fake news' by the establishment because it implicates many of its members. It's also easy to label it as such because some of it is so unbelievable that it's hard for the mind to accept.

The truth is that we have more than enough information to at least warrant a proper investigation.

The more we continue to refer to this type of thing as a conspiracy theory, the more we allow those who are involved to continue hurting and abusing innocent women and children who have no way out.

We are talking about ritual abuse, and it seems to start at the Vatican, bleeding down into the government and other power structures. It's a big club, and we're obviously not in it. Let's not forget Jeffrey Epstein, a convicted pedophile of the Royal Family, similar to the relationship Jimmy Savile had with the Royals as well.

Even foreign politicians have suggested that western politics is associated with pedophilia and Satanism, Vladimir Putin being one of the latest examples.

This is why I wasn't shocked when I came across the tweet below, discussing the news that came out at the end of last year stating that celebrity Sacha Baron Cohen found a potential pedophile ring while taping the show “Who is America.” Cohan was quoted as saying, “We immediately turned over the footage to the FBI because we thought, perhaps there's a pedophile ring in Las Vegas that's operating for these very wealthy men.”

You may be asking: Why hasn't the FBI done anything? (Ted Gunderson, former FBI special agent and head of their L.A office did a lot of work in this area). If you want the answer to that question, retired police detective Jon Wedger, with over 25 years of service in the investigation of child abuse, explains who is involved in this ring and how it operates continually without ever being taken down. It's because, for the most part, when you take this information to your superior, they are already aware of these activities and fail to act on any information. The ones we go to solve this problem may actually be condoning it.

Pieczenik has also implicated the Clintons, stating that“We know that both of them have been a major part and participant of what's called The Lolita Express, which is a plane owned by Mr. Jeff Epstein, a wealthy multi-millionaire who flies down to the Bahamas and allows Bill Clinton and Hillary to engage in sex with minors, that is called Pedophilia.”

It's important to note that Trump's name was found once on the flight ledger to Lolita Island but not repeatedly as with many other people, like Bill Clinton who appeared 26 times for example. It is often believed that Trump appears to be working so hard to stop sex trafficking because of what he saw when visiting Lolita Island.

Again, given his background, and all of the evidence that's already been put out to the public, why should anybody deem this a conspiracy theory? Why have there been no investigations? Why were Australian media outlets forced into silence when Cardinal George Pell was recently convicted on five counts of child sexual abuse? He is now the most senior official ever to be found guilty, serving as an advisor to Pope Benedict as well as Pope Francis. He's one of the Vatican's most powerful officials.

Children are being subjected to torture, murder, and a life full of trauma. We must understand that pedophilia within the realm of politics goes far beyond just that, it goes into ritual abuse and Satanism as well. And it's not just politics, it's Hollywood too. You can find it in many institutions that have amassed massive amounts of power.

Weird connections have always been observed from within, take the Obama administration for example. He appointed Kevin Jennings as Assistant Deputy Secretary of the Office of Safe and Drug-Free Schools at the US Department of Education. He's a member of NAMBLA (North American Man/Boy Love Association) and supports Harry Hay, who is also in support of NAMBLA. This was more than a decade ago, but these strange connections exist all over the political system.

Another example of institutional pedophilia support can be found within the UK government and the Catholic Church, which have come under public scrutiny for claiming that victims of child sexual abuse can “consent” to their rapes. They did this in order to avoid compensating victims. The Criminal Injuries Compensation Authority (CICA) establishes which victims get compensated, and they do so by determining whether or not the victim gave consent, even if that victim is a child. You can read more about that here.

A lot has happened since Former U.S. representative Cynthia McKinney blew the whistle about pedophilia within the government in 2005. She grilled Donald Rumsfeld on DynCorp's child trafficking business of selling women and children. (source)

Not long after that, retired Army General James Grazioplene, who worked in the Pentagon and as the Vice President of DynCorp, faced six rape charges against minors.

There are so many connections, whistleblowers and investigations that have uncovered examples of institutional pedophilia - we just aren't aware of them because the mainstream media often fails to report on them.

The Takeaway

What does this tell us about who we are electing as our leaders? Are they that two-faced? Many of these people are powerful members of the elite, and some of them have been made for us to idolize and almost worship. They hide behind philanthropy and good deeds, masking some very disturbing things taking place behind the scenes.

We've been turning a blind eye to this topic for too long and it's time to pay attention. A big issue here is the fact that many of the people involved have also experienced the same type of trauma as a child. It's considered normal to them, and it's normal to many of the children who are involved today. If we as a society are going to bring this out into the open, a discussion has to happen from a place of compassion, not judgement. This is still something the human race needs to work on, because if we continue to punish and ostracize people for their wrongdoings, we will never address the root causes of the issues we wish to rid the planet of.

0 notes