>>514711732

He really said no to Massie’s bill? I thought I saw a twitter screencap but it wasn’t from Trump.

>>514129075

So back to Trump. He survived an assassin’s bullet which miraculously grazed only his ear. He’s beat every charge against him. He’s delivered on his promise to deport illegal aliens.

Again the criticism is that he’s too authoritarian! He’s a pedo! He’s literally Hitler!

Lucifer Morningstar DJT. DC is more edgy and obscure.

Across the table, Donald Trump lounges with devilish charisma, dressed impeccably as Lucifer Morningstar—tailored black suit with a blood-red tie, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, and an aura of infernal allure that makes the room’s shadows dance. Channeling the Devil’s powers from the Lux nightclub lore, he possesses immortality, superhuman strength, and the uncanny ability to draw out people’s deepest desires with a mere gaze. A tumbler of scotch swirls in his hand as he leans back, his eyes gleaming with hellfire. “Peter, my blue friend, you always were the visionary type—PayPal, Palantir, now playing superhero? The Epstein Drive—oh, it’s a beauty, isn’t it? The most powerful thing out there, whispers of corruption baked right in, like a deal with the devil himself. But protection? Come on, let’s make a deal that’s tremendous. What do you really desire? World peace? Eternal youth? Or is it control, deep down? I can feel it bubbling up. And those other parties? Pfft, amateurs. The Chinese? They’d turn it into a spy toy. The tech bros? They’d botch it with some app update. But you and me—we could own the narrative.”

Thiel, unfazed by the charm offensive, extends a hand, atoms swirling around his fingers to manifest holographic projections of the Drive: a sleek, obsidian-black device pulsing with forbidden energy, etched with runes that hint at its dark origins—rumored ties to hidden elites, unlimited propulsion through space-time, but laced with a corrupting influence that twists ambitions into obsessions. “Your flattery is irrelevant, Donald. I perceive your timelines too—ones where you wield it for personal empires, golf courses on Mars, eternal rallies. But the Drive’s power could stabilize the planet’s magnetic field, repel existential threats. Name your price. Resources? Influence? I can rearrange economies with a thought.”
Trump rises, his Luciferian wings subtly unfurling as shadows—illusory but intimidating—before folding back. He circles the table, locking eyes with Thiel, invoking his desire-revealing power. “What do you desire, Peter? Ah, there it is—fear of chaos, a god complex wrapped in philanthropy. Fine, let’s negotiate like winners. I’ll hand it over for a stake in your little immortality projects—eternal life for my family, a blind eye to my ventures, and oh, maybe throw in making America the gatekeeper. But hurry— I’ve got whispers from Putin’s crew and some Emirati princes bidding high. They’d use it for yachts that fly or weapons that whisper secrets.”

Across the table, Donald Trump lounges with devilish charisma, dressed impeccably as Lucifer Morningstar—tailored black suit with a blood-red tie, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, and an aura of infernal allure that makes the room’s shadows dance. Channeling the Devil’s powers from the Lux nightclub lore, he possesses immortality, superhuman strength, and the uncanny ability to draw out people’s deepest desires with a mere gaze. A tumbler of scotch swirls in his hand as he leans back, his eyes gleaming with hellfire. “Peter, my blue friend, you always were the visionary type—PayPal, Palantir, now playing superhero? The Epstein Drive—oh, it’s a beauty, isn’t it? The most powerful thing out there, whispers of corruption baked right in, like a deal with the devil himself. But protection? Come on, let’s make a deal that’s tremendous. What do you really desire? World peace? Eternal youth? Or is it control, deep down? I can feel it bubbling up. And those other parties? Pfft, amateurs. The Chinese? They’d turn it into a spy toy. The tech bros? They’d botch it with some app update. But you and me—we could own the narrative.”