Warnings: none really, professor is lowkey toxic as fuck but i had a professor like this so i based it off that <3
Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated!
please do not repost my content to other platforms <3
Business major!Sylus who would rather be anywhere other than his 8AM Economics class, not just because is grueling to be up this early but because he hates his major, most of the aspects are boring
he's only there because that was the only way to get his tuition fully paid off, at least until he could fund himself and by the time that happened he was too far in to quit
Sylus who normally has his computer out to pretend to take notes during all of his lectures when in reality he's doing work for the online computer science classes he's been taking,
Who skipped the first week entirely and knows the professor can't stand him because he skips all the time and has still passed all of the classes he's taken
its not his fault he really cant be bothered.
The one time he actually bothered to show up in weeks was the first time things actually got interesting, because then there was you, trying to sneak into he back of the lecture hall, 10 minutes late with a million things in your hands.
The professor, who clearly cared way too much about tardiness for a class they paid him for, stops whatever he was talking about to berate you in front of the class
Sylus who for the first time in weeks actually looks up from his computer for the first time in weeks, its the third week of classes and this is the first time he's seeing you
he's almost amused that there's someone else who could care less about the class than he does.
He finds out you just transferred in, and have a packed schedule, explaining why you seem to be late to every class which pisses the professor off to no end
He almost can't beleive he's found someone who wants to be there even less than he does
the professor who starts locking the door when class starts to deter you, only for sylus to get the door for you when you knock despite the professors threats
He starts seeing you almost everywhere by then, youre in most of his General classes and despite the way you glare at him when he tries talking to you outside of class he is determined to get you to at least speak to him.
the fifth week in Sylus spots you drafting a hefy email to the dean about the professors behavior after the man had an outburst, clearly it hadn't been the first time you had to do this.
the man cheers on the inside when you giggle at something he says when a classmate starts derailing class
Sylus who's determined to get you to laugh like that again.
What if Tilly wasn’t the one to Amelie entrusted with Drew?
Following up the poll I had posted, I wanted to break down how I think this what if would go in each of it's possible situations.
I should note, as much as there is a possibility for others beyond Tilly, Bergan, Manfred and Vega to have been entrusted with a baby Drew, the named characters that could be are few and questionable if possible given the time line.
This post will contain and discuss spoilers for future books/seasons
As much as I would be interested to explore Drew being raised by Huth in Redmire or by Griffyn (or even Shah) on the run, these have a few too many asterisks attached for me to explore in this post.
For this hypothetical, I'm only exploring three possibilities. If Bergan raised Drew. If Manfred raised Drew. And if Vega raised Drew.
First, I want to set ground rules of how I'll treat the possibilities for each potential timeline. I want to be as logical as possible while
Unless there's ample reasoning to assume otherwise, events that transpire in the canon timeline (book or series) will happen. Ie Lucas (if born) being betrothed to Gretchen, Whitley becoming a scout of the green cloaks, Hector training to be a magister, etc.
If there are competing pieces of canon across Wereworld and Wolf King, I'll defer to Wereworld as canon.
If details from Wereworld and Wolf King don't contradict each other, then they are treated as canon to both.
I’ll only cover the ‘certainties’ of the what if. Feel free to explore and expand on any of these as you like.
In any situation that Leopold is killed, defeated or otherwise removed from the throne, word will find its way to Bast.
Whomever Amelie entrusts Drew to swears an oath to raise and protect him. They can't abandon him or sell him out (*cough* *cough* Vega), they have to raise him as their own.
Leopold finds out about Drew and sends Vanmorten to kill him on the Hunter's Moon. This feels like an event that will happen regardless of with Dad Drew has, setting off his journey but it will play out differently each time.
I'll also try to theorize what could change about Drew's character if he didn't grow up with the Ferrans.
Timeline 1: Manfred raised Drew (Stagdad!Drew)
Stagdad!Drew is probably the variant of Drew that is the most incognito amongst his new family. As he could arguably pass as one of Manfred's children or as Mikkel's son.
Growing up alongside Reinhardt, Milo and Mia, Drew likely would be trained as a knight. Being a much more refined fighter than he is in the main timeline. His personality would likely be similarly effected, more honor and duty-bound. Acts like a werelord noble, not a farm boy of the Cold Coast. More willing and prepared to take up his destiny of being King.
As pointed out by @jgvfhl, Drew growing up in Stormdale would likely be one of the safer options for him. Far away from Highcliff and, if push comes to shove, he could be sent to Omir for safety from the Lions.
Stormdale also has its close proximity to Tor Raptor, the Screaming Peak. The resting place of Wergar's sword, Moonbrand, and the way to call the return of the Hawklords. The only wrinkle in that being that only Griffyn knows Moonbrand is there, as he put it there before Leopold took his wings. And his opinion of the other allies of Wergar would make him not inclined to share that secret.
But in the Stagdad timeline, likely during the tour the Lions did of Griffyn and his wings through the Barebones, while at Stormdale Manfred would earn his trust back in revealing he's taking care of Drew.
So, when Drew comes of age (on the night of the Hunter's Moon), Manfred takes him to Tor Raptor in preparation for retaking the throne from Leopold.
Paralleling what happens to canon Drew in SotH, Stagdad!Drew and Manfred are attacked by Vanmorten. Who likely brought a few crowlords with him.
Though Drew is able to make it to the tombs to retrieve Moonbrand, Manfred wouldn’t. Vankaskan sticking him with a silvered dagger. But not before the Duke of Stormdale took the rat bastard with him.
I like to think the last thing Drew sees of Manfred is the only father looking proud one final time. And for Manfred, maybe he sees a shadow of his former friend in Drew.
With Moonbrand in hand and the Hawklords returning to the Barebones, there’s not much else for Drew to collect allies and storm Highcliff keep.
When you're flat out rejected, it takes time to force yourself to forget how you once felt. Though, an unexpected shift makes things way more complicated than they already were.
a/n: I used to write a lot more angst, but it's been a while since I've gone out and done something this detailed... a friend gave me this idea and I immediately thought of writing for Suna.
So recently there was this overflow of ai slop on twitter, and one of the people involved started taking commissions for their “ai artwork” 10 dollars a piece. Which is obviously ridiculous. People started retweeting it showing how much better hand drawn art was with their own examples. Then some asshole made a python code to train the ai off of the retweet art just to spite the artists.
I of course saw an opportunity for comedy and made a bunch of funny little fucked up creatures, and then retweeted the original post with them to add a little poison to the water supply.
Warnings: descriptions of chronic illness/pain, implied suicidal ideation, some coarse language
Part 3 || Part one & Part two.
Last fall, Rosa dropped you off at college and it all went as smoothly as you both wanted. Contrary to popular opinion, freshman year was a breeze- you adjusted quickly and made a couple of close friends. You liked to keep your circle small, but you were well-liked.
Barely a month into your second year, you woke up one night to the worst pain you’ve ever experienced. One just like what you felt before you were officially diagnosed with your illness. Your breath gets caught in your throat. It’s back. The thing was back. You didn’t like to call it what it actually was, no way- absolutely not. You were alone, well, you felt alone because you never wanted to ask for help with much, especially not for your chronic condition and pain flare ups.
Even if this was way more than that, you have always detested talking about it. Your roommate, also one of your close friends knew that and knew you. She helped in whatever way she could, and silently. No mentions of it. Just the way you liked it.
At first, you stayed curled up in bed refusing to believe the pain was happening. Then, over the course of the hour, it kept happening and happening at pretty fixed intervals, varying in intensity. You stumbled out of bed, grabbed your water and swallowed a Tylenol then went back into your bed, successfully sleeping through your alarm for your morning lecture. You woke up at 10am, someone had just entered the dorm.
“Rae?”
“What the fuck, y/n. You’re here. You could’ve at least told me you were gonna ditch, I was worried.”
“…sorry, I—”
“Well, you look like shit.”
“I feel like it too.” You admitted.
“Do you need anything?”
“What do you think?” You blurted, “No. I already took my meds and slept in. That’s enough, I don’t have a valid reason to skip classes in the first place.”
You went to your afternoon lecture after grabbing something to eat, but you really just spaced out through most of it.
Days became weeks, and weeks became months. Months of increased pain, fatigue due to lack of sleep. Still, you pushed through and managed to keep your grades up, not wanting to risk being told you could flunk out and had to repeat your classes— or worse, the whole year. Within a week, Rosa started to have her suspicions. So, you couldn’t keep the current situation from her if you tried. She would know eventually, so you thought letting the cat out of the bag sooner would be better.
Be that as it may, you still pretended you could keep going.
You were good at that, you never wanted her to worry about more than you already have.
Keeping to your usual routine of Sunday night dinners in Brooklyn with your mom, then heading back into the city for your classes the next morning. It took a toll on you, and it had become easier for that little voice to creep up on you, tell you lies, make you overthink, make you assume the worst of the worst.
You were also good at that, letting your mind wander and take over your life. Now? Easier than ever, without your Mom, your rock, your biggest cheerleader and advocate. The stress from college was the cherry on top of the cake, pushing you over the edge. You even thought that school would be a distraction, but evidently, that wasn’t the case. It was distracting you…chipping away at you more and more.
You struggled to wake up in the mornings, stay focused in lectures, and feed yourself proper meals. Slowly, you began to keep to yourself, stop going to after school clubs, brunch with your friends. Also, slowly, you were running out of your white lies whenever Rosa asked how your week has been.
Text message from: Rae
>> Movie tomorrow at 6:30? Join ussss. It’s been weeks since we hung out. And I *know* you have a free day.
Fuck.
Rae, your roommate. She was the one that helped you quietly. She doesn’t push, she nudges, and if you wound up not going she would know why without having to ask. Isadora, who is your other best friend apart from Frankie. She was less aware about your situation, but you simply didn’t want this weight on more people than needed. That was just how you worked, but not how you were raised. Rosa raised you the exact opposite of what you turned out to be.
That day was a Thursday, you never liked Thursdays. Anyway, your day started out at your baseline level of pain. But your happiness didn’t last long. The pain level gradually went up over the course of your morning alone. By 10am, you were in bed clutching your microwaved heat pack over your abdomen. You had your eyes shut to focus on your breathing, but pain was all you could feel, all you could focus on. It felt seriously suffocating, and it was as if a switch flipped. You went, fuck it and reached for your phone somewhere next to yourself and clicked on your Mom’s name in your recent calls log.
Within three rings, she answered. You never called her while she was at work like that. Only texts, and if you had to call, you knew when to do so: when she was on her lunch break.
“Mami?”
“Yeah, honey? What is it?”
She knew something was up. She definitely knew.
————
Rosa froze in her swivel chair, free hand clutching the armrest of it as she held her phone to her ear. Rosa could swear she felt lightheaded for a second, but she kept it together. When the call ended, Rosa bolted to Holt’s office to tell him that she had to leave.
“You…look disturbingly pale and distraught.”
“Um-” Rosa stuttered, “It— it’s my daughter. She just called and she’s not doing well. She asked for me, and she never does that so I—”
“Go, go. You need to go there and be with her.”
“Thanks, Holt.” Rosa ran out of the office, ignoring the concerned stares and questions from her team— which she knew she would have to answer later on, but she couldn’t care less right now.
————
“I need you.” You nearly broke into tears, “I don’t want to do this alone anymore.”
“It’s okay, I got you. I’m on my way. I’m on my way. Don’t go anywhere.”
You hung up, then found yourself staring at the bottle of painkillers on your desk. Just staring at it, that was all you could see and think about. But, you didn’t do it. Before you knew it, someone was knocking on the dorm’s door.
“I’m coming in.”
Rosa was here.
You heard the door shut, then you saw her walking towards you. Immediately, you rushed towards her, throwing yourself onto her. Without hesitation, Rosa wrapped her arms around you. “I’m here.” She said softly, “I’m here. You wanna talk about it?”
You choked on a sob, “It’s the pain, mami. It’s back. I don’t— I don’t want it to be back.”
“It’ll be okay.”
“No, it won’t. I’ve been through hell trying to get help. It takes a long time, I’m sick of it. All the questions and scans, the poking and prodding, procedures and staying in the hospital, infections…everything weird and uncomfortable…I’ve been through. I’ve toughed it out, and mami, I don’t want that anymore.”
“Baby.” Rosa sniffed, “Remember what I said?”
You swallowed painfully, tears continually streaming down your cheeks as you buried your face in her chest.
“I know you remember what I said.” Rosa continued.
“It hurts so bad, so often.” You revealed.
“I know, I know.” She cajoled, “But it’s okay. It might be hard, but you have me. We will figure it out and get through it. Like always.”
“It’s exhausting.”
“I know. Just let it all out, I’m not going anywhere.”
“What if it comes back? Again?”
“Hey.” Rosa pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “None of that, okay? We made a deal- we’ll take things as they come. And?”
“Focus on what we can control.”
“And what can we control?”
“What we do after something happens.”
“Good.” Rosa said back, “And what’s the thing I told you?”
“…No hay mal que dure cien años.”
“Exactly.” Rosa nodded, “As bad as things may seem…these things are only temporary. They will come, but they will also go. It’s okay to feel like you need a break, it’s okay if you need to cry, if you need help. Because I’m here, you have Frankie and Isa, too. We’re your people. We will be here for you, me most of all. It’s always been you and me from the beginning. Okay?”
“Why is it so hard this time?”
“Because life…is full of stuff that needs our focus and attention, and energy and bit by bit we can lose ourselves. Lose what makes us who we are for a bit. So we need each other, to remind ourselves…that, hey, we’re not alone. You have someone. It’s going to be okay, someway, somehow. Because I know us, I know you. I know all that you’ve overcome and achieved, you are so much more than what it says on your medical records. You are kind, you are intelligent, you are caring. You love your morning jogs, your sunset walks, snuggling up with me to watch TV with pizza and Cheetos. You love animals, you always wanted a pet dog, you like to have your hair in two braids- not one…you—”
“I get it, mami.” You managed a chuckle.
“Every little like and dislike, every habit, every little mannerism. Something as little as the way you see someone else and smile at them and nod and wave instead of just walking on by. Anyway, my point is that…you should never ever, ever let something bad overtake you. Because you are so much more than that, there’s so much to do in life. So much to think about, so much to want to do and see. We get this day, we see it and we decide how to work through it, then it’s on to the next day, the next thing…whatever it is.”
“I just, got in my head too much” You murmured.
“And I get it.” Rosa broke away from the hug and held your face, “Believe me, I really do. I get it. You’re alright, hm? Deep breaths.”
“We need to talk, don’t we?”
Rosa nodded, “Sure, but later. Calm down first, then we’ll talk.”
You two sat in silence for a handful of minutes until you spoke up. “I know you must be thinking that I should pause on school and take some time…”
“Ay, y/n. It doesn’t really matter what I think. What do you think? What do you want?” Rosa urged, “No more of this…alright? Thinking everything through so much, thinking everything from the point of view of what I might think? Please? That’s not who you are. I want that fiesty girl with just a bit of attitude back. You always say I know you best. But you know what you want. I need you back, that’s how we will fight the hell out of this bullshit. Do some things for yourself, find yourself again, toss whatever came back up into the air. Let me worry about that.”
“I want to take a break. At least until we get rid of this.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to the school.” Rosa agreed, “First thing’s first, meds. You need to get a handle on the pain, stat. Let it actually die down, so you can focus on being you.”
“I only have Tylenol.”
“Let’s go for a drive. We’ll get your prescription refilled. Come on, let’s get a change of scenery.”
Rosa’s phone was blowing up. Now with the room calm and quiet, you could hear the device buzzing in her jacket pocket. “Maybe you should get that.”
Rosa fished her phone out, “It’s just the squad, checking in. To see if everything is okay. I didn’t tell them, that’s up to you. But they do want to have dinner with me. Though I’m sure they would be so happy to see you. Be prepared for a ton of questions, though. From—”
“Peralta?”
“Actually, Boyle. But those two are besties. So you get one, you’ll get the other too.”
“Friday. Let’s do Friday. I need some time with my mom first.” You told her.
“Friday it is.” Rosa replied while texting the group chat back, “Now, let’s go get your meds refilled, then we can go home and watch some movies with pizza.”
“You have to talk to the sch—”
“I know. I want to focus on you first, get you home and settled in. Then, I will call the school to explain everything. Deal?”
“Deal.”
————
As agreed, the 9-9 was at yours and Rosa’s apartment for dinner. Rosa’s made pasta and dessert, both your favourites. Which, clearly shocked and impressed the squad. They really did not know her. “Just eat, guys.” She grumbled, but not without a little bit of a laugh.
You kept to yourself, staying on the couch to eat so you could watch TV. The table could barely sit everyone on the squad. Amy joined you soon enough, said hi, and nothing else.
Then she was done eating. “How are you doing?”
“It’s rough now, but I will be okay. I’m— fine, my Mom’s fine. I called her the other day, it was me. I just needed her to help me through something.”
“That’s good to hear. I believe in you. If you are anything like Rosa, you are also a badass. Life may seem like shit sometimes but you are the shit.”
You blinked.
“Sorry, bad joke?”
You cracked a smile at how terrified she looked when you barely reacted to that. “Thanks, for that. I just really hit a rough point in my life with school and something…but I’m working on it.”
“Good, good. That’s all you need, to try. And try again.”
“Time for your meds. Take this, then I’ll give you the Reese’s.”
You chuckled, “Can’t you just give me them now?”
“A deal’s a deal. Take the pills, then you get something sweet.”
Jake quipped, “Still soooo not used to seeing you smile, Rosa.”
Rosa glared at him.
“Don’t kill me.” He squeaked.
“Oh, trust me. She won’t ever do that.” You laughed, popping the pills into your mouth and gulping them down with some water, “Done. Chocolate?”
Rosa handed over the Reese’s Sticks and you happily took them, “Thank you~”
Rosa chuckled.
“See?!” Jake gestured dramatically.
“Cut it out, Peralta.” Terry commented, “This is a perfectly normal situation. Work is work, personal life is personal life.”
“Right.” Holt agreed, “And we are here, not because of work. But because we are concerned about our coworker and friend.”
“Well, I appreciate this. Though I’m loving the shock that this is giving you guys. That’s fun.”
tags: Donald x Joe Biden, Infidelity, Melania trump mention, mentions of sex, Jeffery Epstein, Obsession, "Secret Relationship", mlm, Donald's a whore, uhh idk what else to tag
Warnings: Cringe unless you're free
Word count: 2.8k
The chilly November breeze welcomed the late morning dawn in the Oval Office. Autumn leaves glided onto the floor from the open window—trump would have the staff sweep them out later, well, after his “White House ghost” saw himself out. The two entangled themselves on the couch right of the room, not bothering to whisper careless nothings in between their staggered breaths.
“You were late this morning….”
Finally, “the White House ghost”, Biden, spoke. The two stared at each other for a second. Trump looked away shamelessly and reached for Biden' s hand to which Biden pulled away. He looked at him woefully in vain.
“I’m sorry, I was…busy. With work.”
Biden hummed in partial satisfaction before leaning in again. The president's world was a busy one—trust he knew that. Guilt dripped from his lips, tender from Donald’s kissing, into the pit of his stomach. He knew what he meant by “work”. Revoking financial aid, covering up the Epstein files, sending the military on citizens. Sometimes if the two were next to a mirror and he looked at Donald’s reflection hard enough he’d see Andrew Jackson, Andrew Johnson, or Chester A. Arthur for all the wrong reasons. He knew the man he laid with so well it was almost painful to admit it even in the confines of his own mind. Almost. Despite his better judgment—despite justice’s judgement, he simply couldn’t pull himself away from this “king” of America. It was hard to think of him as one anyways… After all, he was so gentle with him when they hid on the couches of the Oval Office.
The two melted into each other, totally absorbed by their warmth’s until—
“Mr. President sir. I’m sorry to interrupt but—“
“Yes Sergio I know.”
Donald cut his assistant off harshly. Sergio nodded his head. His gold name tag twinkled in the new day's sunlight. “Sergio Gor” scribed in the metal. This man who was originally tasked with aiding the president in normal day to day affairs, found himself tasked with being a lookout. His new job was scandalous to say the least. Sneaking misters and mistresses out of the whitehouse, driving his shameless boss around the country to indulge in his lustful vices–it wasn't a job you’d see yourself doing in 10 years. He warned the president and his lovers of the day's start–their sign to wrap up whatever it is they were doing. And if they just couldn't pull themselves away from each other it was his job to make excuses. Some would assume he hated this job–being an accomplice to infidelity like this. But his paycheck satiated the ach in his moral consciousness as well as any clean one would.
Biden waved meekly. Sergio nodded to the former president politely and shut the door behind him slowly. Then, he opened it again.
“Also…” he gulped.
“Your wife is waiting for you.”
Donald stood up quickly and straightened his tie.
“Wake up.”
Donald shook his lover's shoulder. Biden fell asleep in the small moment Donald turned away. Without another word, he left. Any normal person would feel bad for Biden. Living as the mister to a married man’s life. But this was the life he agreed to downsides and all. Plus, he wasn’t really paying attention most of the time he was over anyway. Donald closed the door roughly behind him, then, with Sergio shyly by his side, he stomped down the stairs to the ground floor. Melania stood at the entrance patiently. Her eyes narrowed as her husband click clacked down the stairs. The sounds echoed non-rhythmically until he met her by the door.
“Thank you Sergio.” She nodded to Sergio, his sign to go attend to other things. Like all First Ladies, Melania presented herself with the most elegance. Her smile, her expensive clothes, and soft conservative demeanor. It was true proof of her acting abilities.
“How was work?”
She said, pulling him down for a kiss.
“It was fine.”
He reciprocated. As he pulled away Melania whispered sternly
“Wipe him off your lips before you kiss me text time.”
Donald nodded half-assessedly. Melania was no idiot and she had walked in on the two many times. Yet again, she knew a lot of things about him. Why she stayed despite that was a mystery. Most people speculated that the cost of her morals was one Trump was able to pay in abundance. After all, why else would she stay with a man like him? And in a world centered around money and power, who was she to decline when it offered itself? In a strange way misunderstood even by her, the high she got being where she was—above others, was exhilarating.
“Are you coming with me and the kids to dinner? They’re expecting you.”
She pressed a hand to his chest. Donald stepped back.
“No, but tell them I’ll make it up to them. I have meetings all day.”
Melania scoffed.
“‘Meetings’ “
Trump rolled his eyes and marched out the building to his car.
“Don’t be like that, Melania. You’re too needy.”
He said slamming the passenger side door of his car shut and rolling up the window.
“Let’s go Sergio.”
Sergio jogged past Melania and into the driver's side. Then, the engine revved once and with that he was off. Melania sighed. The silence left over revealed the faint shutting of the thick office doors and the secretive shuffling of someone roaming the tile halls. The ghost of the white house was once again haunting its visitors.
——————-meanwhile ——————
Fox News blared in the president's car. Trump rested his head against the window, lost in thought. Fox News found itself being a conflicting part of his day. Before, it was his hype of the morning. Recently though, they rejected his admin's pentagon rules! How could they! The thought made him grit his teeth in frustration, truly, it was a heartbreak he almost couldn’t abide by. Sergio ignored his boss's obvious distress, keeping his eyes on the road.
Just then, as the news reporter defamed a democrat as a spineless lib for the tenth time, Donald’s phone rang. “JD“ illuminated his screen in big letters in front of his business picture. His deep eyeliner blaring louder than the ringtone. Donald furrowed his brow in disgust. Gor looked down at the phone, then back at Donald. Donald paused the news broadcast and clicked the green phone button.
“Yes Vance”
He answered unaffectionately. A gross tension permeated the air, then, JD spoke.
“I’m going to a rally today… it would mean a lot to the people if you’d come with.”
“I can’t, take her with you instead.”
Quiet again. JD let out an exasperated sigh. It was obvious his president didn’t mean his wife. He meant Erika. Sergio gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“Mr. President, I implore you to be more professional. Think of the people.”
Trump snapped.
“Don’t use big words to confuse me you piece of shit! I don’t give a damn about the people, that’s why I’m sending all their money to Argentina this month. Go to the rally by yourself, Vance”
He waved his hand as if JD could see him shoo him off. Defeated, Vance hung up the phone without saying goodbye. On his end of the line, Erika rubbed his arm.
“Don’t worry, he’ll come around.”
She said in that silky voice that made him melt in a way he hadn’t since he found his couch.
“I’m getting tired of this. It’s not like he has an excuse to be so aggressive anyway, he has affairs all the time.”
It was true. Donald was a certified government hooker if you’d ever seen one. Somehow though, he found it in him to berate JD for letting his affair find itself under the suspicion of the public. As if by now the world hadn’t had its brows raised at Donald.
JD leaned into her touch, just enough to feel her, but not to push the line they had so thinly drawn in the sand. After all, through the grief of her late husband Charlie they had realized each other. Well, more of Erika realizing his money. The millions of dollars her husband left behind was wonderful, but the vice president offered her much more leverage. Either way; for them and their families, this was territory more than uncharted.
——————back in the car—————
Trump slammed his head into the glove compartment. Ignoring the flat pain in the side of his fist, he turned to Sergio.
“Sergio.”
“Yes sir?”
“How far are we away from the office?”
Sergio checked the gps display just above the center console.
“Not far.”
“Sergio…”
“Yes Mr. President?”
“Who am I, as a president I mean.”
“Why, the finest president since Reagan."
Gor answered with faux confidence. This was a trick question made to boost his ego.
“I’ve never seen a man so dedicated to his cause. Truly. I don’t know a man who could pull off 34 felonies and a presidency like you can.”
“Ah, you flatter me. I don’t need to worry then.”
Not that he would’ve if he said anything different. Finally, the two reached their destination. Gor stepped out the car and punched the code into the keypad in front of the house, then drove through the driveway. Trump exited the passenger seat, almost tripping over the small step at the base of the door.
“Go take lunch.”
He ordered before walking to the front steps of the mansion before him. His own private, secret estate hidden away in the peak of otters mountains. Surreptitiously, he looks around before rhythmically knocking on the large oak door three times. After a few seconds, a woman in uniform opens the door without making eye contact. The mansion was cold despite its bear skin rugs on the carpet and the warm colored chandeliers that hung over the first living room. Donald sped up the spiral staircase to his bedroom. At the top of the stairs sits a shelf— hanging on the wall above it—portrait of Jeffery Epstein.
“I’m home Jeff.”
Donald greets it in passing as if the painting itself could respond. Down the hall, pictures of the two line the otherwise austere walls. Memories of the two flood Donald’s mind. Laughing together, faint touches as they drank on the island, trafficking girls together, the fondness could overcome him. Donald sauntered into the master bedroom. His worn body flopped onto the bed. Tiredly, he removed the red velvet covers from the left side of the bed to reveal a pillow of Epstein himself. Longingly he caressed the face of the pillow. It carried the scent of his cologne with it. Trump hid his face in the crook of what would be Jefferey’s neck.
“It’s hard out here…” he inhales, reminiscing in the familiar scent.
“So hard”
Then exhales.
“But it’s all for you Jeffery. Oh goodness it’s all for you. They’ll pay for everything my love.”
Donald squeezed the pillow closer, knuckles white with yearning—begging for what he had left of his true love to carry him further in his quest to punish the American people. Images of the Epstein files played like a movie. He squeezed the ‘hand’ and brought it to his lips. They would never get their hands on it, after all, how would his beloved stay relevant without them? All the lies, all the bullshit, it was all to keep his dearest in the picture. And to ragebait the democrats and republicans that dared ask for them. Unable to intertwine their fingers, Donald settled for holding the pillow's wrist. For a while, he was so lost in the fantasy, the lack of touch made his ego falter. Then, a knock at the door disrupted him.
“What is it?”
No response. Sluggishly, he opened the door to find two letters on the floor. One addressed to him in fancy cursive, the other less so. Each tell tale of their origins. Donald looked back at the pillow regretfully, then in a pleasing voice reassured him he would be back. Trump entered his study several doors down and opened the letters. The first one, the one addressed in fancy cursive read
“Dear Donald, This letter should find you in good health. Per our relations I’ll be making a presidential visit to the white house to reconvene on unfinished business. I hope it’s within your convenience to have me and discuss any further matters. I know you’re still upset about our disagreement however, to put that aside would be in our interest. Regards, Putin. “
Putin, or, who Donald so affectionately “puddin” was always so strict in his writing. Probably because he didn’t want anyone to read it and find out. Why he still sent letters was a mystery, but that was neither here nor there.. By disagreement, he meant Russia’s relationship with China. It was a constant cause for argument among them. Heated arguments fueled by Donald’s racism as gasoline and Putin's anti US nationalism as the spark. Their relationship in that aspect was a contradiction. At the end of the day though, toxicity was the name of the game and the two loved to play. What could they say? The ups and down of loving your enemy was an adrenaline inducing experience especially considering their countries historical distaste for eachother
Donald placed the letter aside gently and opened the next.“Donald, I put my ego to rest at night in hopes I will dream of you. The stars above Pyongyang cannot hope to shine brighter than the twinkle of your eye. Your embrace leaves an indent which I cling to in the dead of night. Words of confession chip away at my teeth as they fight hidden behind my lips. My lips that crave yours. Even as I look at the pictures of your idiotic country, I still think fondly of you.
Till the day they may be fulfilled, Kim ”
Trump read the bottom line over and over again. Each reread made his heart skip a beat, and the thought of the two fulfilling the words Kim so earnestly hid away, well, it made him flutter to say the least. Excitedly, he pulled a piece of paper from a drawer in his desk. He dug through the stack of line paper, careful not to accidentally push the tens of envelopes that sat neatly next to it. Deep down Donald felt a little guilty for keeping so many men at his hip. If anyone asked him, it was purely diplomatic. But in reality their attention—the attention the people gave him, it filled the hole Jeffery and his misogyny left behind.
The few staff that wandered the halls gossiped among themselves while another diligently reported to Twitter. They joked about how shocked the public would be, however, they knew no one would take word from their anonymous accounts seriously. In the midst of writing his reply letters, Donald’s phone rang. Thinking it was Vance, he answered it expecting to argue. Why did he answer it if he knew they were gonna fight? Well just the type of ignorant shit Donald was into. To his surprise, it wasn’t Vance. It was Benjamin—Benjamin Netanyahu.
“Hello—“
“40 billion?”
Barked Netanyahu
“Let me explain—“
“And what’s this ‘peace treaty’ Donald I can’t commit genocide with a peace treaty! You nimrod what in the fine print of ‘defending ourselves from Hamas’ doesn’t get my point across to you! What’s next? You’re going to speak out against the Congo next? What? You’re against slavery too now?”
“Benjamin please. It was an act of political strategy! You know you’re my number one racist and genocider. I just, have to act for the other side sometimes. It’s all business. I mean think about it. With this treaty, now, Palestine—I mean, Israel number 2, status is in your hands. I can see it now, headlines ‘Gaza violates treaty in preference of HAMAS’ “
“I was doing fine as was. You better not be playing me. Don’t forget. 31.5 billion worth of imports, my diamonds. Don’t make me punish you Donald.”
There it was again, that familiar flutter in Donald’s stomach. Aggression, degradetion, attention--oh how lovely it felt. He'd be a dishonest to say he didn't do things on purpose just to see the furrowed brow of an angry man he'd be a liar to deny the very thought made him grind his thighs together. Especially when it involved such violent threats to his country—nothing besides Epstein's pillow made him feel that good.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself Benjamin, don't forget who's been sending you aid–lest you bite the hand that feeds you.”
Silence drifted in the air. Donald smiled as a muttered “go fuck yourself” left Benjamins lips.
“Don’t worry, I’m doing what’s best for the rich and important of the world. For the leaders. For us.”
Donald leaned back in his chair. If he had a cigarette he’d drag it right now. Like all their calls, they were quick. Benjamin ended the call bitterly, still not convinced his situationship was acting in his interest. Donald wiped his face with his hand, the wrinkles pulling on his lips individually. Then, in a lagged fashion, returned to the master bedroom.
Upcoming chapter: Chapter 2 -- Proofs in the Puddin
Authors note--
I'm Sorry this chapter is so short, I'll strive to make them longer in the future. :) This is my first time writing and posting fanfic (what a way to start, huh?) I hope you were amused by this chapter; it was fun to write. I want to try and upload every three days If I can, but, like I said this is my first time so it's subject to change.
Exploring the idea of the reader/Tav being sent by Raphael's daddy to spy and distract him from power grabbing INSTEAD of Haarlep. Throwing into the plot that the reader is still kidnapped by the Nautiloid and thus becomes a keystone in Raphael's crown heist.
I'm starting this off as a drabble, to set the scene and get a feel for the reception of such an idea before I fully commit.
I really want this to be a multiple part series, perhaps with a prologue of how the reader was sent by Mephistopheles to spy on Raphael instead of Haarlep (or whatever Haarlep's name was before HoH).
Raphael x reader (gn) | reader's race is up in the air, though probably from infernal persuasion, I like giving you guys the freedom to use your imagination as much as possible | rivals/enemies to assets with benefits
“’Go distract my son’ he said, ‘it’d be easy’, he said.” You growled in frustration as, for the umpteenth time that week, you cleaned up after Mephistopheles’ infuriating son. “I can hardly report back to the old chap while elbow deep in his son’s shitter.”
You felt the familiar warping press of the planes flexing, signaling Raphael’s arrival back home.
You heaved a sigh. “Great.”
“What a lovely sound to return to.” Raphael greeted, strolling into the boudoir, not deigning to look at you. “Ready to return to my father with your tail between your legs?”
“For the thousandth time, no.” You sat at his ornate desk and propped your chin upon your hand. “Though I am putting my foot down. Utilize the slaves you have to do your menial labor, I’m done.”
“You are one of my slaves, pet.” Raphael murmured, a hard edge to his voice.
“I serve your father, Raphael. Or should I double check with him really quick?”
Raphael rounded on you, eyes burning. You stood to meet his anger, your defiance flaring corporeal flames around your body.
“You serve me.” Raphael said each word with dangerous emphasis.
“I’m going on strike.” You seethed back.
He towered over you, your noses almost touching, the mutual enmity palpable in the hot air.
“You are yet protected by the archdevil, for now.” Raphael’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he regained composure. He didn’t step away. “That does not shield you from my wrath, little impling.”
That rankled. “What’re you going to do, fuck me sideways on the floor again?”
“Begone, nattering pest.” Raphael waved a hand in agitation and turned from you.
“I know about your plans for the crown, Raphael.”
That stopped him in his tracks.
You smiled slowly. “This is precisely the kind of thing that led to my being sent here.”
“Then it is evident you are failing at the job my father appointed you.” Raphael tsked and began his daily ritual of setting in order his contracts. The rustle of parchment mingling with the crackling fireplace as he feigned disinterest. “What do you plan on doing with this information?”
“I’m keeping it close to my chest, for now.” You cooed, stepping near him and sliding your hand along his tense back. “Just wanted to let you know, master. I am a player not a pawn.”
Raphael caught your hand and held it tightly, squeezing until your fingers hurt. “Naive creature. Then you are bound to lose.”
“Who said I’m playing against you?”
The question hung in the air. Raphael breathed in slowly, deeply, his hand relaxing ever so slightly around yours. You slipped your fingers from his grip and kissed his cheek coyly. “Just a thought.”
Then you deftly made your way from his boudoir before you devised other ways to tempt the Fates.
You had indeed been dealt an interesting hand, and were determined to explore your options to determine which path would be most self- beneficial.
A plan that might have come to fruition had the Nautiloid not thrown a wrench in it. Traversing the vast barren fields of Avernus near the House of Hope, you saw the Mindflayer ship blast into being. Too close to where you were. You felt the horrible ache of familiar helplessness as the monstrous ship bore down on you.
A flash of white, an excruciating pain, then all went dark.
